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skz317cb97 · 1 year

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A History of Pain

Part 3

Bang Chan X Female reader

Word count: 6.8K

Synopsis: You move back to Korea from America for good when you bomb at school, surprising not only your adoptive brother Minho but also his friends/roommates, who didn't know you existed. Your brother let's you stay with him and his band mates who have been threatened to stay away from you but Chan already has stars in his eyes for you. Issues from your past keep popping up forcing you to deal with your history or run from it all.

A/N: 18+ ONLY! This one is a bit longer do bear with me if it takes a little more time for part 4. Also be glad I didn't end it where I was originally planning 🤣😈

Part2👈 Part4👈

Warning's for this series: This story will have elements of death and flashbacks to abuse (mental, physical, and sexual) throughout. It will not be explicit or overly detailed, but it will be a vital part of the plot. If that is a topic that can be triggering or make you uncomfortable, I would suggest skipping this series! There will also be strong language/cursing, adult content, and sexual themes throughout but not in every part so I will be adding warnings for each part accordingly. If I ever miss something that should be in the warnings, PLEASE let me know and I will add it! This is an Idol AU so while they are in a group together it is not Stray Kids, hence no Jeongin and Seungmin and even though a company is mentioned it is not JYP. Just for clarification these are characters and not meant to portray the actual people in anyway.

Warnings for part 3: 18+only MDNI! Swearing and strong language. Mentions dying when giving birth a few times, nothing graphic, extreme mental/verbal abuse, mentions of child abuse, mentions of trafficking and other illegal activities, depictions of night terrors, unprotected piv sex (please use condoms!), oral (f receiving), fingering, cream pie, crying during sex (from pleasure), y/n's first time/virgin (kind of). I think that's everything for this part but let me know if I missed anything and I will add it asap!

Minho was not pleased about the picture in the paper, but he couldn’t really be mad at you or Chan, neither of you had done anything wrong. You had panicked and Chan had helped, that’s all. That camera man just took advantage of the situation. Minho knew you all had to be more careful though, people would be looking for the ‘mystery woman’ coming or going from the dorms. You started leaving for work first and never with any of the guys. Minho hoped staggering when you all left would confuse the photographers until they gave up. Your brother also told you to disguise yourself, put your hair up in a hat, wear baggy clothes or hoodies, anything that masked you being female. Luckily after two weeks of the dorm being steaked out by photographers they seemed to give up. There were a couple that lingered including the man that had gotten the initial photo, but even they gave up after a while. You still left before the guys most days just to be safe. After about a month, things seemed to calm down and the ‘mystery woman’ remained a mystery.

In that month you had impressed your bosses at the company with your ability to be so coordinated in their fast-paced work, your flexibility, and your ability to learn quickly. With the way you grew up you had to; those were keys to survival. You impressed them so much that they quickly hired you on full-time in the hair/make-up and wardrobe department. Now anywhere your brother and the guys went you would be right there too. You had grown closer with all the guys in that time. You looked out for each one in different ways and they looked out for you. In that time, you had grown especially close to Chan who you had taken to calling Chris.

Chan didn’t get called by his English name very often, so he liked hearing it come from your lips. Your soft pouty li-. Chan had to check himself constantly when it came to you it seemed like. The random thoughts that would pop in his head about you were intrusive, and he really did try to not think of you that way, but you were so beautiful, so kind and funny and the way you could get your brother to loosen up or blush telling some old story about him from when you were kids. You were good at getting people to open up like that, but Chan noticed getting you to open up about yourself was not just difficult, it was impossible.

You’d had a few more night terrors. A couple of times Chan would make it to you before Minho could even make it out of his room. Minho wasn’t sure how to feel about that. On the one hand he was glad there was someone there for you quickly but on the other he disliked seeing you two embrace when Chan would get you to come around. As much as he hated seeing it he never said anything. Chan and you, and the rest of the guys for that matter, had all made your promise so Minho trusted you. A promise between the two of you was never broken.

The next couple of months were supposed to be slammed for the guys and in turn, you. With a new album out they had TV appearances, showcase performances, MCing for Minho, and in a few months you all were getting on a plane and going to America for the first leg of their world tour. Minho loved having you around so much again. He’d missed you terribly when you were gone but he had buried that down of course, unwilling to burden you with his feelings. While he was happy to have you around, he was concerned about you going back to America. The last time you were there, your dad, he just didn’t want you getting hurt.

The more you spent time with Chan and really got to know him the more confused you were. You just never cared before, you never cared about kind eyes, or plump lips, or cute curly hair, so why him? Why now? Whatever it was Chan was the only person that could make you feel that way. All the other guys were attractive and kind. Hyunjin, just like Chan had told you, was the prettiest man you’d ever seen but you still didn’t feel the way you felt about Chan when you saw Hyunjin. You had to do something to try and stop it. You knew the best way to try and keep your feelings in check was to just stay away but it seemed no matter how hard you tried to keep a bit of distance between you and Chan the universe was against you, putting him directly in your path.

Margret had laid claim on you to assist only her whenever it was time for fittings or getting wardrobe ready for stage. More often than not she styled Chan, ergo more often than not you assisted in his styling. You tried to stay away, tried to not let that feeling in your heart grow but despite your resistance, one day you realized it had gotten bigger. You didn’t know if Chan felt the same way, part of you wanted to know, to find out, but you couldn’t even ask unless Minho allowed it. You decided to just be transparent to just ask. It was a couple of weeks before the tour when you worked up the nerve to finally ask your brother about it. You approached the topic carefully.

“Hey Minnie?” Minho was already suspicious by the use of that particular nick name.

“Yes?” You walked up to him and leaned against the counter while he finished the dishes he was doing when you decided to corner him in the kitchen.

“Well, see I have a question.” He nodded, staring at the soapy cup in his hands.

“Go ahead...” You wrung your hands nervously.

“Well, it’s about the promise you made me make?” His eyes narrowed at you.

“Yessss...” You chewed at your lips by the tone of his voice alone you could tell this was not going well already.

“Yea so, I’ve gotten really close with all the guys over the last few months, you know they’re just great, and well Chris and I...” Minho put up a hand and stopped you.

“There is no Chris and you. You can be friends, but you made me a promise, no dating any of the guys, that includes Chan.” You swallowed down your disappointment and that feeling that had grown in your heart morphed into pain. You didn’t think he was going to go for the idea with arms wide open, but you thought he’d at least hear you out before shooting you down. It’s not like you to act like some love-struck teenager. You thought he might take you seriously since you’ve never dated in the past, but he wasn’t having any of it.

You nodded and walked off not having anything else to say. There was no use arguing with Minho, you had in fact made the promise and that was that, a promise between the two of you might as well be written in blood. As you were walking out of the kitchen Chan was heading towards it, you passed him in the hall and he gently grabbed your hand to stop you, he hadn’t seen you most of the day.

“Hey...” He said as you pulled your hand away, you didn’t look him in the eyes. You couldn’t right then, not after what Minho just told you. You hadn’t even got a chance to process the emotions you were feeling. You were overwhelmed.

“Uh... hey...” You managed to finally choke out. Chan frowned a little. You seemed upset about something.

“Everything okay?” You nodded still staring at your shoes.

“Yea. I’m just... I don’t feel good. I think I’m gonna lay down for a bit.” The crease in Chan’s forehead deepened.

“Let me know if you need anything. Hopefully you’ll feel better after a rest.” You pressed your lips together and gave him a halfhearted smile before turning and heading back towards the bedrooms. You did take a nap but only after you let a few tears fall for the question you could never know the answer to. Chan walked into the kitchen where Minho still was. He hiked his thumb back towards the hall where he’d just seen you.

“I just passed y/n on the way in here, she looked... sad. You think she’s okay?” Minho felt bad, but a little sad now was better than heartbroken later.

“She’s fine, you focus on more important things, like the next performance we have coming up and let me worry about my sister.” Chan grabbed a juice and put up his hands in defense.

“Sheesh okay I was just asking.” Chan went back to his room to finish what he was working on, discouraged. Minho seemed hell bent on keeping you and him apart. He stopped before walking into his room and looked at your door across from his, like he did every time you were in there. His heart raced, he wanted to go in there and hold you and tell you whatever you were sad about, he would make better, somehow, he just wanted to make you happy. Instead he opened his own door and went back to work.

Being so busy with all the events leading up to the tour, it seemed like the days flew by you had done everything to avoid Chan during that time, it wasn’t his fault, but it was just too hard to be around him right then. Before you knew it, it was time for you all to head to America. Once you touched down there wasn’t much time to dwell on the past, or your feelings for Chan. You were all bouncing from one city to the next every other day. Things were running like a well-oiled machine and that should have been your first sign that shit was about to hit the fan. Nothing ever went that smoothly in your life.

The guys had done four of their scheduled performances, no problems and then they were asked if they would make an appearance at a very exclusive club. They felt honored to even be invited and agreed to make time for a small performance. It wasn’t a big place but somehow you had managed to get cut off from the guys and started looking for them. You had ventured away from the stage area looking for your brother, Chan, anyone really. You were checking around the bar and it was obvious this was meant to be a pretty intimate event, VIP only. You kept scanning, looking for Minho or one of the guys, and then...

At first you thought there was no way you saw who you thought you saw. You made your way from your side of the bar to get a better look and sure enough it was him. Your dad, George. How the hell had he gotten in there? What was he doing there? Was he there because he knew Minho was there or because you were there? Then as if he felt you looking at him George turned and made eye contact with you. God, he looked like shit, even worse than the time you’d seen him before and nothing like the man that, for whatever reason, you had idolized as a child. He started walking towards you and you froze, you didn’t know what to do or say. Did he recognize you now?

“Hey, can I buy you a drink?” You almost threw up in your mouth. Clearly, no, he still did not realize who you were. You rolled your eyes and scoffed at him.

“I would rather chew glass...” You turned to walk away and he grabbed your elbow, much harder than necessary.

“Listen you little bitch...” You tried to pull your arm back and narrowed your eyes at him. He took a step towards you, his grip tightening. Then suddenly Minho was at your side and George let go. Minho had seen some creep was bothering you from where he was by the stage, where he’d been looking for you. He immediately headed in your direction before George had even laid a finger on you, before Minho realized who the creep was.

“Y/N hey, are you okay?” He looked up at the jerk bothering you ready to tell him off and as soon as Minho saw his face, he knew who he was. Realization was hitting George too. He of course immediately recognized Minho and he walked up and called you Y/N so that could only mean one thing. Chan came walking up now completely clueless to the shit that was about to hit the fan. He had just seen the man grab you, then he hadn’t even thought, he just started making his way over to you.

“Ahaha. I should have known. Jesus, fuck you look just like her...” That almost sounded like a compliment from George.

“You killed her and then you grew up to look just like her. What a cruel fucking joke the world plays on people. Just stick it in and break it off. Holy shit.” Ah no there was the George you knew. Your shoulders slumped and Minho and Chan both stiffened up. Chan didn’t know who the guy was, but he knew if he didn’t watch the way he talked to you there was going to be problems and not just with Minho.

“You should watch your mouth.” Minho glared at George and George laughed.

“Little Lee Minho. I’ll get to you in a moment, we have business to discuss. First, I want to finish this little talk between me and my daughter.” Chan’s face fell in shock. This disgusting man was your dad?!

“There’s some things I’ve waited many a year to say to you.” You shook your head.

“I don’t suppose any of those things are sorry.” George laughed out.

“Sorry?! For what?! For ever putting you in your mother? Yea I’m sorry for that! For taking you from the hospital after you killed her? I’m sorry for that!” Tears were welling up in your eyes. You had always held on to the guilt of your mother dying while bringing you into the world, and George loved to play on that guilt just like he was now.

“I’m serious George shut the fuck up.” Minho spoke through his gritted teeth; his ears and neck red. Chan was on the verge of total combustion.

“Little Lee, me and you have some money to talk about.” Minho’s face contorted.

“What money? What the hell are you talking about?” George laughed; it was a creepy unsettling laugh.

“It’s the money you’re going to give me so I don’t go to the media with Y/N’s life story. I’m sure they would be very interested to know how it came to be that she was adopted by your parents. American girl being sold in a South Korean back ally and all.” Chan could not believe what he was hearing. Minho had told him countless times you’d had a hard life but never...never had he imagined.

“You stupid jackass you were the one selling her! To an undercover cop no less and got busted. That’s how she ended up with us!” Chan was in utter shock; this had been your life?! Knowing you now, you were gentle, kind, you had so much patience even with difficult people, no wonder. Jesus Christ your dad was a special kind of monster, and all Chan could think was despite George, you still turned out so amazing. George nodded in agreement with Minho’s observation.

“Yes, I was, and that may come out eventually but not before you and your parents’ names are dragged through the mud. Are you willing to take that risk?” Minho squared up with George. He wasn’t worried about himself but now George was not only threatening you but your parents also.

“Fucking TRY me Georgie. Really!” Minho’s voice was raised and he took another step towards him. People started looking over at you. You put your hand on his shoulder trying to calm him down.

“Min, don’t he’s trying to rile you up. He wants to start a fight, just get security.” George turned back to lay into you again. His favorite punching bag.

“I told your mother, I told her. When she found out she was pregnant with you, and she started getting sick and I TOLD her to get rid of you. That something was wrong with you, that you were gonna suck the life out of her, but she was so excited to have a baby, a daughter. ‘She’s a piece of both of us, she’ll be so special’” George said mockingly

“So, I gave in and then you did exactly what I told her you would. She gave you life and you sucked hers straight from her in the same moment. You aren’t special. You were born a life sucking little leech and that’s all you’ll ever be.” Just because you already knew how George felt about you didn’t mean the words didn’t still hurt. He was your dad after all. Tears ran down your face and Chan had had enough. He was about to snatch your dad by his shirt and turn him into an actual punching bag when the guys’ manager and security swooped in.

“What’s going on here?” Chan took a step back and tried to calm his racing heart, taking deep breaths.

“This asshole is threating my sister and me, get him the fuck out of here.” Security started to grab George by the arms and physically remove him. As they dragged him away, he hollered back.

“It’s a pay day either way for me. Think about it!” When George was gone the guys’ manager turned to you all.

“Backstage now! That’s where you should be and none of this would be happening!” You all started to head towards the stage area. Minho with his arm around you trying to calm you down. When you got backstage, he sat you down and Chan gave you some privacy to talk about what happened, just between family, while he processed the information he had just learned about your past. Minho crouched down in front of you, a hand on each side of your face.

“Fuck that asshole! You know none of what he said is true, don’t let him get into your head.” You cried and shook out of Minho’s hold on you.

“He’s always been in my head Minho! He never left! The nightmares, the isolation, the self-sabotage. It’s just him in my head keeping me where I meant to be, where I was supposed to be all along. I killed my mom just like he said, I leeched the life right out of her and now I’m doing the same to you, to mom and dad, to Chan and the guys. I don’t belong here; I don’t belong with you all.” Minho shook his head at every word that came out of your mouth.

“No no no! You’re wrong! You are my sister and I love you; mom and dad love you, the guys they don’t remember what it was like to function without you now. You leech nothing from anyone, do you hear me!? You give, God damn it you give so much. Even to garbage like George, who doesn’t deserve it. Your mom knew Y/N, even George just said it, she knew you were special. She knew what she was doing, she knew there was a risk. She chose you Y/N. She might not have ever gotten to meet you but no doubt in my mind she was one hundred percent right. You are so special, and you are such an important part of mine and everyone else’s life.” You threw your arms around your brother’s neck and sobbed.

“I just wish he would’ve been my dad! I wish we could have grieved for her together as I grew up! I feel so cheated out of so much because of him Minho!” He held you, rubbing your back.

“I know. It isn’t fair, it isn’t and I’m so sorry that’s what your life was like for so long. I knew from the moment you came to our house, I knew then it was MY job, to keep you safe and protect you now and I always have, well, I’ve always tried. I just hope you know; you’ve always been my sister and you always will be.” You wanted to tell Minho that if you could make up your own big brother and choose all the things about him you would still just choose Minho but before the words could leave your mouth Chan and the group manager were calling Minho over. The manager had filled Chan in on why he’d been looking for you all in the first place.

“Sit here, drink some water, try and relax I’ll be right back.” You nodded and Minho ran over to the two men. They all exchanged a few words, the two of them catching him up to speed and then Minho was visibly upset.

“What the hell! We’re in America right now, he didn’t think to tell them I couldn’t host this month?!” You could see Chan trying to calm Minho back down glancing over at you and giving you a tight smile. It seemed, from what you could pick up of their conversation, that the show your brother occasionally MCed for had him scheduled and it looked like they were going to make him go back to Seoul to make the appearance.

“Alright fine I’ll go, let me talk to my sister first. Damn!” Minho walked over to you trying to calm himself back down to speak to you. He knelt in front of you and was glad to see you had drank part of the bottle of water and were a little calmer now.

“So I guess that I have to...” You nodded.

“MC. I heard, so they’re making us all pack up and go back to Seoul just for one show?” Minho shook his head.

“No only I'm going back. Look if I ask the right people, I might be able to get it so you can come with me, it’ll be a long shot bu...” Your eyebrows scrunched in confusion Minho noticed you weren’t following.

“I mean so you don’t have to stay here without me.”

“Minho I lived here for four years without you I think I can handle four days.” He pressed his lips together tightly.

“But your da-George? He well I’m just trying... I’m trying-” You saved your brother from himself.

“You’re trying to protect me I know.” You kissed his cheek.

“I’ll be fine Minho. I’ll make sure security or the guys are always with me and I’ll text you constantly, okay?” Minho gave in nodding.

“When do you have to leave?” He pushed his hair back out of his face still visibly stressed.

“Like now. They’re gonna run me to the hotel to grab some stuff and then straight to the airport. If you need anything while I’m in the air...” You both stood up and you patted your brother on the chest.

“I’ll let you know Min but really I’ll be okay.” He hugged you.

“I know, it just feels wrong leaving you alone after running into George.” You squeezed him back.

“I won’t be alone Min.” He knew that, what he really meant was without him. You wrapped your arms around him.

“I love you, please be safe.” Minho nodded and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll see you in four days. Promise.” You smiled up at him, then Minho and their manager headed out. Chan walked over after they left to see if you were really okay. He would understand if you weren’t after all that stuff your dad had just screamed at you.

“Hey uh, so, are you alright?” Right then you remembered that Chan had heard everything your dad had said about you. You internally cringed and tried to act like you were fine.

“Oh yea I’m good.” You changed the subject quickly.

“Are you guys performing without Min or...” Chan shook his head.

“No this thing is cancelled and we’re taking a small break until your brother comes back.” You nodded along absentmindedly, staring out into nothing.

“Do you...” Chan’s voice suddenly snapped you back into the real world.

“Do you wanna ride back to the hotel with us now?” You nodded quickly and Chan let you lead the way to the van you all were chauffeured around in. The rest of the guys were already piled in and just as soon as you and Chan sat down next to each other and buckled up you were all off. Once you got to the hotel you all broke off to your respective rooms. It was getting late and you were for sure crashing, after a nice hot shower of course. You had to wash off any residual trace of George. You washed up relatively quickly but stood under the stream of hot water for what seemed like forever.

You were debating on getting out yet or not when you thought you heard knocking at your door. You quickly turned the water off and listened. Another knock at your door. You got out, dried off halfway, and threw on the plush white robe that all hotels leave guests. You grabbed your phone to see if you had any missed calls or texts but there were none. You jumped and gasped when the knocking started again as you were walking towards the door. You looked out the peephole and saw Chan just turning to leave. You hurried to unlock the door and stop him.

“Chan?” He turned around surprised and speechless seeing you there, he didn’t think you’d answer but there you were. Your hair wet, in a robe, that sweet look on your face. It made him feel warm all over when you looked at him like that.

“W-what are you doing here?” Chan had clearly come after getting ready for bed, he stood there in his signature black sleeveless shirt and black basketball shorts, hair freshly washed and curly. He was snapped out of his daze by your question.

“Oh! I just wanted to make sure you were really okay after everything tonight and to see if you needed anything.” You smiled at him.

“I’m... well... I...” You weren’t sure what to say, you were okay, but you weren’t. You were calm and feeling okay right then but there was no telling the kind of nightmares you’d have after the run in with your dad. You knew it was a dangerous game you were about to play but you really didn’t want to be alone.

“Do you mind coming in and staying a little while with me? You can leave when I fall asleep.” Chan’s heart melted and raced at the same time. His stomach was in his throat almost making it impossible to speak, he shook his head. You moved out of the doorway and let him walk in, closing the door behind the two of you. You walked into where your bed was and you both stood there awkward and nervous until you spoke.

“I-if this is weird or whatever you don’-” Chan shook his head quickly.

“NO. I mean no. It’s not weird, I just wasn’t sure what side you were laying on. Go ahead, I’ll stay. I don’t mind.” You got curled up in bed in your big fluffy bathrobe and pulled the blanket over you. Chan walked around and sat on the opposite side. His heart was so full seeing you there cozy ready for sleep to pull you under. He wanted to hold you in his arms until you fell asleep. You both chit chatted for a little while which helped relax the atmosphere again, all the while Chan was getting more and more comfortable, moving from sitting, to leaning against the headboard to laying on his side with his head propped up looking at you, finally laying on his back his fingers threaded together behind his head as he stared at the ceiling above the two of you. Your breaths had started to come out long and slow, Chan thought you had fallen asleep, his own eyes feeling heavy and then you spoke.

“Chris?” Chan hummed acknowledging hearing you. God you really just wanted to ask him to hold you, you wanted to tell him that you loved him. ‘I love you...’ but then you thought about the promise you made.

“Never mind.” You nuzzled into your pillow more, your heart ached while you drifted off to sleep. It wasn’t too long after you dozed off that Chan had also fallen asleep, face up, lightly snoring. In the middle of the night you started getting restless. Your legs fidgeting and your hands gripping at the sheets. Your breathing started to come out fast and sharp like someone was chasing you. Chan woke up just as you started pleading with whoever your attacker was in your dream. Chan tried to wake you but it was always hard to wake you when you were having a night terror.

“y/n, wake up, hey come on now wake up!” You finally opened your eyes and shot straight up in bed gripping onto Chan. You threw your arms around his shoulders. You were shaking and crying.

“It was just a nightmare, it’s not real, I won’t let anyone hurt you.” You sobbed; your face pressed into his shirt.

“It’s not a nightmare if it happened, it’s a memory and you can’t save me from my own memories Chris.” He just held onto you tighter until you had cried yourself out. When you sat up you ran the back of your hands across your cheeks wiping away the residual tears. Chan’s hand came up and his thumb grazed your cheek, wiping another tear away.

“I wish I could save you from your memories, I wish I could take away the pain you’ve endured.” He pushed your hair away from your face, his deep brown eyes looking into you as he cradled your jaw. The air between the two of you suddenly changed. There was this heat building. It had always been there but now it was reaching a crescendo. You were two charges of energy that needed to connect or else it would blow taking the both of you with it. Chan opened his mouth.

“Can I k...” Your lips were suddenly pressed against his. You didn’t even listen to what he had been asking, you just knew in that moment if you didn’t kiss him you would explode. His lips were just as soft as they looked. You pulled away and looked at him with the fear of his rejection welling in your eyes. He put your fears to rest quickly and kissed you again. Your lips parted and his plump bottom lip slotted between yours and you could finally taste him, god he tasted so good. Then his tongue slid into your mouth and his teeth pulled at your bottom lip and you could feel yourself getting wet. His hands roamed your body over the robe you were wearing.

“y/n? Do you have pajamas on under this.” Chan’s words were just over a whisper as he hovered over you, his fingers tracing the opening of your bathrobe, taking in how gorgeous you were there under him, somewhere he never even allowed himself to dream of having you. You bit at your bottom lip and shook your head no. You only had taken the time to put a pair of panties on before grabbing your robe when he had knocked. Chan’s next words were between breaths of desperation while he started to kiss down your neck.

“Can... can I touch you...” God there was nothing more in this world that you wanted at that very moment than for Chan to touch you, to keep kissing you, but your promise to Minho kept itching in the back of your brain. Chan’s lips pressed the gentlest kisses to the pulse point of your neck making you yearn for more, you had played this dangerous game and played yourself. You couldn’t resist it anymore; you couldn’t resist Chan anymore, promise be damned.

“Please... please touch me Chris.” His hand slid into your robe and squeezed one of your breasts before pinching your nipple. It felt like every touch from him was charged with electricity.

“More Chris, please.” He nodded but still proceeded to grope you while he slowly kissed and nibbled at your neck.

“Patience baby girl let me make you feel good, let me take my time, fuck I’ve wanted this for so long, wanted you for so long.” His words made you moan and arch up into his touch. You were trying to be patient, but you just needed to feel more of him, for him to feel more of you. Your patience paid off when he pushed open your robe and his soft lips wrapped around one of your nipples. God your body was on fire and your core throbbed as your fingers gently gripped his curls.

You pulled open your robe the rest of the way, sliding your arms out and Chan attached his warm mouth to your other nipple, gently biting making it harden before sucking on it again. Chan pulled away hovering over you again and, fuck, you were breathtaking. Panting, flushed with desire, desire for him, laying there in just your panties waiting for him to devour you.

He sat up on his knees and stripped his shirt off, the chest and abs you’d seen as you helped Margret dress him countless times, now were within your touch. You couldn’t help but trace your fingers down the lines of his body, down his abs, across his adonis belt, before toying with the waist band of his basketball shorts. Goosebumps had risen all over Chan’s skin and he got harder the further down his body your fingers traced. You could see the tent forming in his shorts and then suddenly you realized you were in way over your head. You had never done anything like this before, so you would’ve reached into his shorts and then what would you have done huh? You had no idea. You pulled your hand away and Chan could instantly tell something was off.

“Are you okay? I’m so sorry, I just... it felt so good, and kissing you and then you were touching me I just... I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. It’ll go away... we don’t ha-” You shook your head and pulled Chan down into another soft kiss.

“You didn’t Chris really! I want you to kiss and touch me, I want to touch you I’ve just... well I've never...” Chan’s eyes went wide with the realization of what you were trying to say.

“Well not never, I mean I have... well you know, myself, but never... what I mean to say is not with...” Chan understood. He kissed your cheek and you closed your eyes at the sensation of his lips on you again.

“We can take things slow baby; you just tell me what you want.” You chewed at your lips nodding as Chan’s mouth started to pepper kisses down your neck and chest. He kept going, placing a kiss above your navel then below. He teased the elastic of your panties and looked up at you.

“Is this okay? Can I take these off?” Your chest rose and fell faster and faster. You shook your head.

“Yes.” Your answer came out in a breath.

“You’re sure? If you don’t-”

“I want you to Chris, I do, please don’t stop.” He pulled your panties down and left a trail of soft kisses down your thighs. He pulled them off and then looked at you laying there. Every time he looked down at you he didn’t think he could see anything as beautiful.

“I really want to eat you out baby, would that be okay?” You squirmed as he ran his hands gently up and down your legs. You nodded and spread your legs further for him. You laid your head back and covered your eyes with your hands embarrassed as Chan leaned down. He slowly ran his tongue through your folds then he puckered his pouty lips and proceeded to softly make out with your clit. You let out a little gasp at the new but welcome sensation and you fought the urge to grind your hips.

“C-Chris, that... that feels really good. Please... please don’t stop.” You were panting, getting words out in between breaths. If it was making you feel good there was no way in hell he was stopping. Your fingers found his curls and held on as he continued to kiss, lick and suck on you, pushing you closer and closer to your climax. You struggled to get your next words to form instead of moans.

“Fuck mmm fin-fuck! Fingers p-please fingers.” He collected some of his spit and your juices and slid two of his fingers inside you.

“YES! Oh my god Chris yes keep going.” He would go as long as you were screaming his name like that. He focused on hitting all the right spots at the same time and then your back arched up off the bed as you came on his tongue and fingers.

“Ffuck, Chriss, fu-Mmm I’m comingmm...” He gently licked at you until you started to shake from the overwhelming sensation buzzing through your entire body. Chan climbed up next to you and ran his fingertips up and down your skin as he watched your blissed out face relax more and more until you finally opened your eyes and looked at him.

“God you’re so beautiful y/n. So beautiful.” He placed soft kisses all over your face then you pushed at his shorts wanting more, needing more.

“Chris please want you inside me please.” He kissed you, ran his thumb across your cheek, and nodded. Chris pushed his shorts off and hooked your legs around his waist. You looked down between you and watched Chan start pushing his cock inside you. The feeling was so much better than anything you had used yourself. The warmth of his body when his hips were pressed flush against yours. You moaned out and Chan froze trying and pretty much failing to get a hold of himself. You unintentionally clenched around him and Chan thought he was done for.

“Oooh baby girl try not to do that, fuck, it feels TOO good.” When Chan did finally get his wits back he slowly started to move. You wrapped your arms and legs around him pulling him close. He held you as he rocked his hips back and forth, his head buried in the crook of your neck, his warm soft pants fanning across your neck as he pushed deeper and deeper. Your breaths were also coming out more labored, tears welling in your eyes as you were overwhelmed with emotion and pleasure. Chan lifted his head and saw your tears, he swiped one away with his thumb and held your cheek, looking into your eyes as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

“I love you Chris.” Chan closed his eyes and bit his lip then leaned down and kissed you before whispering against your lips.

“I love you too y/n.” You pulled him close again as you felt your impending orgasm approaching.

“Please please Ch-Chris p-please.” He moaned at your pleas for him.

“Please what baby, please what, tell me and I’ll give it to you.” You ran your fingers through his curls holding him close as his hips rolled.

“I’m- pl- cum again... I-I'm gonna c-cum again, please please make me cum!” The motion of Chan’s hips and his whole body rubbing against yours made you explode. Your mouth fell open in a silent scream of Chan’s name. When you caught your breath all you could do was say Chan’s name as he kept moving chasing his own release now.

“Ch-Chris, fuck Chris, Chriss...” Hearing you say his name over and over as you squeezed around him pushed Chan over the edge and he came buried deep inside you. Chan fell next to you in bed and tried to catch his breath. Just as soon as he’d caught his breath he remembered your tears, he propped himself up and pushed some sweaty hair away from your face.

“You okay?” You nodded. You were, you really were. That was until clarity hit you and you remembered the promise you’d made to your brother. The promise you had most definitely just broken. You looked at Chan worried.

“What? What is it?” You shook your head.

“Minho is gonna kill us.”

Please do not repost or translate any of my works. My blog and stories are NSFW and 18+ ONLY! Minors, ageless, and blank blogs will be blocked!

@acciocriativity @caroline-ds-world @chansynie @ughbehavior @jquellen27 @hyunelixies @fixation-dump @lachinitaaaaa @rinrinndou @bangchans-angel @laylasbunbunny @owo-manii-uwu @armystay89 @b00dyguts @purplenimsicle @caticorn61 @3rachasninja

#stray kids smut #skz smut #bang chan smut #chris bang smut #chan smut #skz317cb97 #cal 🖤

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praeteritus-memories-muses · 3 months

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Name: Violet Evergarden

Series: Violet Evergarden

Continuity: Netflix series

Age: 20

Height: 5'2"

Birthday: Unknown

Orientation: Bisexual

Species: Human

Occupation: Auto Memories doll

Bio:

Violet Evergarden was an unnamed baby born to a man and woman. The woman had died not long after giving birth and it sent the man into a spiral so bad that he developed a drinking and gambling problem. The man sold a baby Violet, whose birth name is lost to time, to a trafficking ring to pay off his debts.

Due to Violet being a baby, a fresh start, the traffickers would place her into the group of children taught to be trained assassins for hire. She was taught to kill by age six and they had decided to further train this promising girl by dropping her off on an island and coming back another time as to make sure this girl was fully isolated and would only listen to the person who spoke to her.

However, a ship crashed and on that ship was Dietfried Bougainvillea and his men who were temporarily stranded. That was when Dietfried discovered Violet who had killed his men when they tried to rape her. Stunned and frightened that a nine year old girl could brutally kill a small group of grown men, Dietfried immediately decided to take Violet and use her as a killing machine for the war.

Returning to his home, Violet was given as a “gift” to Major Gilbert Bougainvillea and though he was against the idea of keeping this slave girl - he decided to enlist her in the army just to train this girl to be more of a soldier than a killing machine.

It was then that Gilbert decided to give this nameless killing machine a proper name. Though he struggled, he decided to name her after the first thing he saw, which was a patch of violet flowers.

With the name of Violet, she was a ruthless soldier who had even wiped out an entire army of twenty men in a single night. She was swift with no sense of remorse or guilt for killing these men, for Violet couldn't understand emotions and feeling.

It’s under Gilbert’s care, even if she was still a ruthless soldier for the army, that she learned to speak at the age of ten but she does have a very strange way of speaking. Violet often speaks as though she’s a robot, having never understood that you don’t have to constantly talk extremely proper with complex words. He had taught her how to read and write as well. Though her writing was terrible, she was surprisingly gifted at writing with a typewriter and gave rather detailed reports.

Though Violet couldn’t feel emotions, she loved Gilbert. He was a father figure to her, someone that her heart first learned to love and care about. Yet this happiness with Gilbert came to an end when the final battle for the war had begun.

In trying to protect Gilbert in the final battle, Violet lost both her arms and Gilbert was still shot at. She started to drag him by the teeth down the stairs of an abandoned church when he sat onto the steps while bleeding out.

In his dying words, he told Violet to live and “I love you.”. The words confused Violet, they were words she didn’t understand and as she pleads for him to explain and for him not to die, that’s when the abandoned church began to crumble down so Gilbert let his own body get crushed to death for the sake of pushing Violet out of the way to safety.

Violet awoke with no sense of purpose and her arms replaced with mechanical ones. Though she believed Gilbert was still alive, as no one had the heart to tell her that he died, she continued to live solely because she thought he was still living.

At age fourteen, Violet became an Auto Memories doll as she discovered that the profession would finally teach her what the words of “I love you” were and what emotions were.

Many years passed and even though she slowly learned to accept that Gilbert was gone now, at least she finally understands how to be human and how to live. She currently travels around as an Auto Memories Doll, a job where she writes for people who are unable to themselves due to physical disabilities or simply creatively unable to.

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azariahmiles · 4 months

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Is that PARIS BERELC? No, that’s just AZARIAH MILES. They were born on 16/10/2000 and are a BANSHEE living in Northknot Town. They work as a FUNERAL DIRECTOR. Some say they're RESPONSIBLE and TRUSTWORTHY, but I’ve heard others say they're IMPULSIVE and APATHETIC. When you think of HER, don’t you think of PRACTICED WORDS OF SYMPATHY, CALCULATED TO-DO LISTS & KEEPING A SECRET TO YOUR GRAVE?

Name: Azariah Zehava Miles Nickname(s): Za, Zaza, Zari Birthday: October 16th Age: 23 Zodiac Sign: Libra Gender: Cis-Female Pronouns: She/Her Species: Banshee Orientation: Bisexual Occupation: Funeral Director Faceclaim: Paris Berelc

HEADCANONS

She's fairly new to Northknot, just coming into town a few months ago. She got hired as a funeral director and moved here from New York City.

She has a younger half-sister, Madison, but she sees her as just a sister.

Her mother was a banshee and her father was human.

APPEARANCE

She comes off as cold and calculating at times but she can also be bubbly and high spirited. Some people would call her insensitive. She has resting bitch face. She walks with confidence, head held high.

AESTHETIC

practiced words of sympathy - calculated to-do lists - keeping a secret to your grave

CONNECTIONS

Younger Sister She and Madison are super close. They are all they have after all. Both of their dads walked out on them. Even though they are four years apart, they get along super well.

BIOGRAPHY

tw: illness, death

Azariah was born to a young couple in New York City. They were a happy family of three. It wasn't until a few months into Azariah's life that the couple started arguing more and more. They split up, leaving Azariah to be raised by a single mother. It was okay for a few months but then it became hard for the young mother to take care of her child and pay rent.

There will be so many times you feel like you failed...

They moved back in with the young woman's father who lived in New Jersey where she worked and was able to afford proper care for her child while also saving to move out one day. They spent three years living with the young woman's father. She moved out and found an apartment back in NYC. It wasn't long after that that she got pregnant again and nine months later, she gave birth to another little girl.

...But in the eyes, ears, and mind of your child, you are a SUPER MOM.

Azariah enjoyed being a big sister. She often tried to help her mother take care of the baby even though she was only four. When she turned five, her mother put her in cheerleading. She gave the little girl an outlet. She cheered until she was about eleven years old after her first black out during practice. Luckily her mother herself was a banshee and was able to explain to the girl what was happening to her.

Some days she has no idea how she’ll do it. But every single day. It still gets done.

It took some time but she was able to learn to somewhat control her abilities. She got back into cheerleading and just told her friends that she had a disorder that caused black outs to get by. She grew up a somewhat normal life with the exception of always finding herself at the scene of a horrible tragedy. It used to give the girl terrible crying spells but now she's become desensitized to death.

It is not death that a man should fear, but he should fear never beginning to live.

Upon graduating high school, Azariah decided to go to mortuary school. She got a job at a funeral home in the city shortly after finishing school. She worked there for a couple years until her mother got sick. She quit her job to take care of her mother full time. She predicted her mother's death that came not long after she fell ill.

Our dead are never dead to us, until we have forgotten them.

On her mother's deathbed, she told her daughters about her hometown, Northknot, a place full of supernaturals. Intrigued by this, Azariah left for Northknot after her mother passed. She got a job as a funeral director and an apartment not far from the funeral home. Azariah so far is loving the new city where she doesn't have to come up with explanations about what she is.

#nktintro #wc #wanted connections #tw: illness #tw: death

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cyarskaren52 · 7 months

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The article is a disgrace and so is your hewish mom who gave birth to you

This tweet from Olivia Julianna 🗳

@0liviajulianna Twitter sums it up

“I read the Kamala Harris articles—and this is what I have to say about it.

To be a woman in the political spotlight is to be criticized. The tone of the article echos a sentiment that is tossed around in a sort of insider baseball— some people “don’t like the VP.” but when pressed for the most part their reasoning is her tone or demeanor.

They don’t like that she “tosses aside” questions about her qualifications or work ethic— but don’t acknowledge that those questions undermine both of those attributes.

Her speech, her clothes, her hair— everything about her will be criticized not only from the lens of the vice presidency, but from the lens of Black femininity and womanhood. A level that no man in politics— and certainly no vice president, has ever faced before.

I think about it, and In some deluded way I feel like I understand. What it’s like to have someone else define your successes in the public eye.

Last year, when I raised $2.2 million for abortion funds off the back of Matt Gaetz insults— I was amazed. Thrilled that people where finally listening to me, a young political strategist— but instead what I found was people defining me as “the girl who was body shamed by Matt Gaetz” instead of “the activist and strategist who helped thousands get healthcare access.”

To this day, despite advising campaigns, securing fundraising positions for major groups, having meeting with White House officials, coordinating with elected officials on policy and advocacy— my career is rarely defined by my own accolades, but rather the actions of the man who attacked me. His name often time comes before my own when I am introduced— and all the other work I’ve done is lost.

The Vice President I feel faces similar struggles. She is “Joe Biden’s running mate” and “a heartbeat from the Presidency.” Her position is often times defined by her proximity to Biden rather than her own political capabilities and qualifications. Yes, she is Joe Biden’s running mate —but she is also the former Senator from California who was known for her stellar performance in judiciary hearings, for celebrating the performance of gay marriage ceremonies when she was AG of CA.

She is not a “diversity hire” she was elected by the PEOPLE as Vice President of the United States.

If I was the Vice President, I would be exhausted. Tired of my career work and life goals being summed up into two or three sentences— and constantly having my position questioned and accolades overlooked.

She is facing unique criticism and spotlight that no one else has faced before—- allowing her grace when it may be too much does not mean we’re being soft on her. It means we’re allowing the VP to be human and not an emotions less robot like those who have held the seat before. It also means we’re acknowledging the systemic inequalities that made her election that much more important and vital. Mike Pence didn’t have to worry about his words with intense precision— because frankly not many people cared. But VP Harris is so heavily criticized her laugh, her hairstyle, and her outfits are subject to headlines and controversy. That is an incredibly heavy weight to carry.

I’ve met the VP. Twice. The first time she held my hands and told me she was proud of me. She implored me to continue my education and to keep fighting the good fight. The second time she welcomed me into her home and restated her pride and support. I’ve met a lot of politicians in my life—- she genuinely has been one of the kindest.

When I cast my vote in 2024, I will not be voting for just Joe Biden. I will be enthusiastically voting for Kamala Harris. Because frankly— she’s absolutely EARNED it.

I hope you do the same.”

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serve-update · 1 year

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Erika Alexander Net Worth: She An Actress Discusses The Importance Of Backing Up Young Talent In Sundance Films Like Earth Mama!

American actress, writer, producer, entrepreneur, and activist Erika Rose Alexander is noted for her appearances as Pam Tucker on The Cosby Show (NBC) and Maxine Shaw on Living Single (FOX). It was in Winslow, Arizona, on November 19th, 1969 when she entered our world.

Erika Alexander's Net Worth

American actress, producer, and writer Erika Alexander has a $3 million fortune. Erika Alexander played Maxine Shaw on Fox's "Living Single" and Pam Tucker on NBC's "The Cosby Show" (1990–1992). (1993–1998). The films "54" (1998), "30 Years to Life" (2001), "Love Liza" (2002), "Get Out" (2017), and "I See You" (2019) are just a few of Erika's many acting credits. She has also appeared in the television series "Going to Extremes" (1992–1993), "Judging Amy" (2001), "Street Time" (2002–2003), "In Plain Sight" (2010), "And last Man Standing" (2022). https://twitter.com/celebrity_worth/status/589464586920722434 In 2020, Alexander oversaw the production of the documentary John Lewis: Good Trouble, and in 2022, she took the reins as host and producer of the true-crime podcast Finding Tamika. In addition to "Giles," Erika co-wrote the "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" comic miniseries in 2018 and the science fiction graphic novel "Concrete Park" in 2012. we hope you like this article Robert Herjavec Net Worth.

She An Actress Discusses The Importance Of Backing Up Young Talent In Sundance Films Like Earth Mama.

Maxine from Living Single, Erika Alexander, loves independent cinema. The independent film My Little Girl discovered me at 14. "That film launched my career," she says. She knows how indie films can start Black actresses' careers, but she doesn't remember if that picture went to Sundance. I did a lot of independent films because, believe it or not, that's where Black women get hired. Big-budget films hire people with lengthier resumes and more fame "she says. "By the time you get there, you've probably made numerous indie films.” Must read about this article Lisa Barlow Net Worth. Alexander, who is still well-known from Living Single's daily airings and her roles on Wu-Tang: An American Saga and Run The World on Starz, appreciates sharing her abilities with the new generation. Earth Mama, backed by A24, which produced Zola, Causeway, and The Inspection, premiered at Sundance and featured her.

Erika Alexander Net Worth Bay Area rapper/poet Tia Nomore plays struggling young mother Gia in the film made by Black woman director Savanah Leaf, who also played volleyball at the 2012 Olympics in London. Gia's third pregnancy is stressful. She fights for her two state-adopted children despite being destitute and unemployed. She only visits them under supervision. Alexander plays Miss Carmen, one of the system's caring women. “She goes about helping to lead young females through a painful process,” says Alexander. She helps Gia recognize she may not be able to care for her latest child and consider open adoption. check this Cody Longo Net Worth. Alexander admires Nomore, who she compares to her early career. “Great. New. I was her once. "I was younger at 14, but she was natural that they found and discovered from a large audition, like me," she explains. No more also had certain skills that made her excellent for Gia. “She gave birth. She's a rapper," Alexander says. That was her. Earth Mama." She says she enjoys mentoring younger actors in Wu-Tang: An American Saga, Run The World, and Earth Mama. “I'm going on set incredibly empowered in many ways that I know they need the experience to gain.” She says it's two-way. “They're giving me enthusiasm, youth, and vitality, so it's a wonderful flow and balance.” Another pleasant surprise was filming with Bokeem Woodbine, who plays her husband Jerome in Wu-Tang. “We didn't know we were both in it until we got there,” she says. “I appreciate our chemistry too,” she says. “I hope we do something more involved.” you might also be interested to read about Rey Mysterio Net Worth. Leaf highlights young women, a failing system, and loyal helpers in Earth Mama. Alexander says the issues are enormous. “I'm delighted Savanah is helping. I tried my best.” https://youtu.be/kmVcxfIdrMk Description The documentary “Erika Alexander Net Worth” is a must-see for every lover of the show. The show is about a celebrity and the details of his net worth will make you go “Geeeeez” (even if you don’t like this expression) while viewing it. Its stunning visuals and animation effects are the result of meticulous design and development. It will keep you entertained for quite some time, so if you haven’t seen it yet, please do so and then rate it and share your thoughts below. If you like this article, follow our website serveupdate.com & don’t forget to follow our social media handles. Read the full article

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arvinsescape · 3 years

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Everything to me.

A/N: My longest writing yet and i am actually really proud of this! I really hope the length doesn’t put anyone off and I will appreciate any feedback and constructive criticism. I really hope you all enjoy, this took me a few days to complete but I’m happy with the finished product.

Summary: Y/N has insecurities as a young mother and they seem to get worse all of a sudden, Tom reminds her how much she means to him.

Warnings: Mentions of smoking, swearing, smut (fingering, Oral (F rec), soft sex) Minors do not engage. May have missed a few typos...

W/C: 11K... Said it was gonna be a long one!

You’d met Tom when you were both nineteen and in university, he was studying for a Business degree and you’d been studying English. You’d met in a bar on a night out and the rest appeared to be history, you were head over heels for each other and although neither one of you were the other’s first you believed you’d be each other’s last. You both graduated with first class honours degrees and that’s when everything changed for the two of you.

You both graduated in September and Tom had taken over his father’s business by October, although he was only twenty one at the time it was what he’d spent his educational years working towards. You on the other hand fell pregnant, Tom had been supportive throughout, stuck by you and although it was a shock to both of you, you couldn’t be happier and neither of you would change Liam for the world.

“Tom, I need to tell you something.” You said nervously biting your lip as he got into bed.

“What’s wrong darling?” He asked, brows furrowed with concern as he removed your bottom lip from between your teeth with his thumb. He knew it was a bad habit of yours. “Don’t do that baby, you’ll make your lip bleed.” He whispered as he kissed you softly.

“Something’s happened.” You said and he kissed your cheek as he moved you to rest your head on his chest, running a hand through your hair.

“What’s wrong? You can tell me you know. Whatever it is we’ll work it out.” He said as he continued to run a hand through your hair. You felt sick with nerves, what if he left you? His career was only just starting and a baby would hold that back, hold him back. You swallowed back tears at the thought of being left alone to bring up a child.

“I’m pregnant.” You whispered so quietly that even in the silent room Tom didn’t hear you.

“What?” Tom asked as he brought you to face him. “Sorry baby, I didn’t catch that.” He said again.

“I’m,” you said as you gulped and he placed a reassuring hand on your cheek, face full of concern for you. “I’m pregnant.” You said again as tears made their way down your face, Tom was quick to wipe them away.

“Seriously?” He asked, a grin finding its way to his face. “You are?” He asked again and you nodded. He pulled you into a bone crushing hug as he placed kisses all over the side of your face. You giggled slightly before pulling back, hands placed firmly on his chest.

“You’re not mad?” You asked and he smiled.

“Mad? No. Shocked, absolutely but I’m happy.” He said as he ran his thumb over your cheek and you smiled at him.

“But what about your career?” You asked and he laughed slightly.

“Baby, I’m taking over my father’s business, I’m sure he’s still gonna be around to help out, especially if he knows he’s getting a grandchild.” He said as he kissed your forehead and you relaxed all together.

“I love you so much Tom.” You said as you fell back into his chest and he wrapped his arms around you.

“I love you so much, I’m so happy that we’re gonna have a baby.” He said and you smiled.

“You’re not gonna leave me?” You voiced your insecurity, he might be happy now but what about in a few months when you’d gained weight and become moody?

“Baby, I would never leave you, you’re everything to me.”

He didn’t leave you, he stuck by you through all of it. All of the cravings and mood swings, insecurities, everything. You got married just before you started to show, Tom was going to ask before he found out you were pregnant and you couldn’t have been happier together, moving things along quickly. His dad stayed on to help out, overjoyed by the news he was going to be a grandad, he facilitated Tom being able to be there for you and also helped him keep the business on track. The birth was long and painful and Tom was there for every single hour of your labour, he wouldn’t leave you for a second, when Liam was born you both cried, it was truly beautiful. It was all working out really well, apart from the fact that you didn’t have a job and that played into some of your insecurities.

“Do you ever think I take advantage of you?” You suddenly said half way through your TV show. Liam had gone down much easier that evening, you knew it was because Tom had been home to help put him to bed. Liam loved Tom, sometimes Tom was the only one who could calm him when he was screaming at the top of his lungs.

“What?” Tom asked, brows furrowed as he paused the show, attention fully on you now.

“I just worry because I don’t have a job and you do.” You said as you nibbled your lip, his thumb instantly removing it from between your teeth, this was a habit for the two of you.

“Sweetheart, you’ve just had a baby. I admire what you’re doing here. I go to work and I leave you here to look after our son on your own. I don’t expect you to have a job right now, money isn’t an issue. I don’t want you to get a job and make yourself more tired, there’s no need for that. We’re lucky to be in the position that we are.” He said and you sniffled, wiping your nose with your hoody sleeve.

“Baby, if you want to get a job, I support that but please don’t get a job because you think I think any less of you for not having one. You’re doing an amazing job here, doing what you’re doing. You’re an amazing mum and I’m so proud of you. I love you okay? Nothing is going to change that. You’re my everything.” He said and your heart melted. Tom had never shied away from his feelings when it came to you, he was always honest.

“I just want whatever makes you happy, okay beautiful?” He said again and you smiled as you nodded. “No one thinks you’re taking advantage of me, everyone knows how hard you work at home, how much you’ve taken on the responsibility of being a mother.” He continued and you hugged him, holding him tight, he was a man you never wanted to let go of.

Once Liam was old enough to be left with yours or Tom’s parents you tried to get a job but didn’t have much luck and years later you were still stuck in the same position. Tom was supportive, reminded you through each rejection that it was okay, that you’d find something eventually but no one wanted to hire a young woman with a young child. Your hours needed to be too specific for their liking and nobody gave you a chance.

You loved Liam and you wouldn’t change him for the world but the pregnancy had left you with insecurities, you tried so hard to lose the baby weight and although you lost some, you never lost it all. It changed certain elements of yours and Tom’s relationship, you became embarrassed of your stretch marks and weight. It didn’t matter how many times Tom told you he couldn’t care less about it, that he loved you for you, it never made the insecurities go away.

You and Tom had just returned home after a much needed date night, you’d both gotten a little tipsy and found yourself almost falling through the front door as you giggled. Liam was at your parents for the night, leaving you and Tom to have a night for yourselves.

“Shit.” Tom said as he caught you, arm around your waist as you stumbled taking your heel off, causing a fit of giggles to erupt from both of you. He turned you in his embrace as he kissed you, lips pressed firmly to yours as he pulled you closer by your waist, you instantly melted into the kiss, hands finding his hair.

“I fucking love you.” Tom mumbled against your lips as you fell backwards onto the couch, Tom making sure not to press all of his weight against you as he laid on top of you.

“I love you too Tom.” You said as he reconnected your lips, the kiss growing heated within seconds, his hips grinding against your own as you let out a pleasurable sigh. “Can we move to the bedroom?” You asked, nerves suddenly getting the better of you. Since having Liam, you and Tom hadn’t had sex anywhere other than the bedroom and with the light off. Tom tried to reassure you that this wasn’t a necessity, that he still found you beautiful but you still insisted almost three years later.

Tom nodded slightly as he picked you up carrying you to the bedroom. You stuffed your face into his neck to hide the embarrassment on your cheeks, you wished it was different, that you had the confidence to have sex with him with the light on but every time you tried you became more embarrassed.

The sex became different over the three and a half years. It was all missionary and the adventurous streak you’d once had had seemingly vanished, you worried he’d become bored, that the sex you were having wasn’t satisfying enough but you couldn’t bring yourself to make a change. It led to a few arguments over the years, mostly instigated by you and your insecurities getting the better of you. The one you’d had last month changed things between you. You’re insecurities had been eating away at you more than usual recently, leaving you much moodier than usual.

“Y/N…” Tom sighed as you reached for the lamp to switch it off. “You’re beautiful, you know that right. I love you more than anything.” He said again.

“I know.” You said dismissively and he sighed again and it made you angry. “Tom, I don’t want to have sex with the light on is that such a big deal?” You snapped.

“Y/N, when are you going to let me show you how much I love you? I know your body changed when you had Liam but I don’t care, I love you, I still think you’re beautiful.”

“You’ve said already.” You snapped again and he sighed as he moved off you, standing from the bed as he put his shirt back on. “Where are you going?” You asked angrily.

“I need a breather.” He said as he fished around in his jacket pocket. “I can’t keep doing this Y/N/N. I can’t.” He said as he pulled his packet of cigarettes from his pocket, fishing around in the other for his lighter.

“Can’t keep doing what?” You snapped, you were letting your insecurities get the better of you.

“I can’t remember the last time I saw you naked. You lock the bathroom door when you bath or shower now. You won’t let me watch you change and you won’t have sex with me unless the light is off.” He pointed out.

“And?” You fired back angrily, he shook his head in response, pulling his lighter from his other pocket.

“We are married.” He pointed out again.

“So?”

“I can’t keep having this conversation. We’ve done it for years. I’ve told you why it’s important. I love you I really do but things aren’t the same anymore and you know it.” He said and your anger flared.

“So what the way we have sex is the be all and end all of our marriage?” You snapped, you knew after the countless conversations you’d had that this wasn’t the case but you were letting your insecurities take over. Putting words into his mouth, you knew he was right, he wasn’t just talking about the sex.

“I can’t keep fucking doing this.” He said as he made his way out of the bedroom and down the stairs, an angry you in tow. Voices low as not to wake your three year old.

“Then why are you still with me?” You said angrily and he huffed as he made his way into the back garden.

“Because I love you, I really fucking do but our relationship isn’t the same anymore.” He said as he lit his cigarette, inhaling sharply.

“Sure it’s not just because we have a kid?” You fired back and there it was. Your biggest insecurity. He looked at you, shocked expression evident on his face.

“No that’s not why. Why are you so angry at the minute?” He said as he inhaled another drag of his cigarette.

“Fuck off Tom.” You snapped as you went back inside and up to bed. You weren’t sure why you were so angry with him all of a sudden, your emotions getting the better of you.

Things changed after that, you’d not had sex in that time and you’d kicked him into the spare bedroom. Your conversations became limited and he tried to make things normal again but you closed yourself off, your emotions became harder to control and your insecurities were getting the better of you.

“Daddy!” Liam shouted, alerting you that your husband was home. You heard as his bag hit the floor and the playful giggles that followed as Tom greeted his son. You sighed, you missed him but you were still angry with him.

“Hi darling.” He said as he made his way into the kitchen where you were.

“Hi.” You mumbled back in response. There was an awkward tension between the two of you now, the years of a changed relationship had seemingly caught up with you both.

“How was your day?” He asked and you shrugged as he sighed. “I heard you throwing up this morning, are you okay?” He asked, face full of concern.

“Yeah, picked up whatever Liam brought home from nursery last week.” You said and he nodded. You’d never had awkwardness like this, it was horrible and you wished it wasn’t there, you knew you should apologise but you couldn’t bring yourself to do so. “How was your day?” You decided to ask in return.

“It was busy, happy to be home.” He smiled sadly and you felt guilty, you loved him you really did but you couldn’t help the negative thoughts that were living in your head right now.

You missed the kiss you’d usually get and the hug after not seeing him all day, you missed being wrapped up in his strong arms as you both fell asleep.

“Mummy?” Liam’s voice dragged you from your thoughts.

“Yes sweetheart?” You smiled, he looked more and more like Tom every day, the only feature of yours he held were your eyes.

“What time is daddy home?” He asked, you looked at the clock, it was almost six, normally he’d be home around five fifteen. You bit your lip as your nerves grew, the metallic taste of your blood making its way to your tastebuds. You’d been doing it a lot recently, Tom always said this would happen; that you’d make your lip bleed from biting it so much and he was right.

“Soon love.” You answered, he’d been home late every night this week. Just as Liam was about to speak again Tom made his way through the door.

“Daddy!” Liam shouted as he ran at his dad, Tom instantly scooping him up with one arm.

“How are you doing little man?” Tom said as he kissed Liam’s cheek, free hand ruffling his curls. You watched from the couch, adoration clear on your face, he was an amazing father. He’d do anything for Liam. You missed him, missed being in his arms.

“I drew a picture today.” Liam said as Tom put him down and he made his way to his nursery bag, presumably fishing out the picture he’d drawn.

“Hi.” Tom said awkwardly and you smiled as he furrowed his brows, eyes trailing to your split lip. “You’ve been biting your lip.” He pointed out and you shrugged as he sighed. “Baby-“

“Daddy look.” Liam shouted, interrupting him, you made your way into the kitchen, Tom’s gaze following you, if you’d have turned around you’d have seen the longing look he was directing your way. He missed you, more than he could bare.

Tom looked at the picture his son had drawn, the whole family together and smiling. Tom longed for that, he wished you would see yourself the way he did, love yourself the way he did. Liam’s picture showed a happy family, everyone smiling and Tom found himself wishing it was a true reflection of what was happening between him and his wife at the moment but it wasn’t.

“I have a contract I’m finishing up, that’s why I was late.” Tom said as you boiled the kettle, making your bedtime tea, Liam had gone to bed a short while ago.

“Okay.” You answered and he huffed.

“Baby, I’m sorry.” He said and you turned to look at him. “I hate whatever this is that’s going on between us, I’m so sorry.” He said and you nodded as you sighed.

“I’m sorry too, my insecurities are getting the better of me and my emotions feel out of control at the minute.” You said and he nodded, standing, and making his way over to you.

“It’s okay. I miss you.” He said and you felt tears brim your eyes, you missed him too. “How about I look after Liam tomorrow night and you go and have some fun?” He said, he knew you’d not seen your friends in a while but this made you cry more.

“Thank you but I don’t think they’d want to.” You said and he furrowed his brows as he took you into his arms, you’d missed his scent.

“What do you mean?” He mumbled into your hair as he hugged you closer and tears slowly made their way down your face.

“Ever since Liam they’ve slowly drifted off, they don’t think I’m having the fun I should as a 25 year old.” You said and it was true, over the years more and more of your friends have lost contact with you due to the fact that you couldn’t go out with them like you used to.

“I’m sorry, how about I ask my mum and see if she’ll have him and I’ll take you out?” Tom was always conscious that you got days or evenings to yourself so you could have fun. You smiled slightly as you nodded. “I think we both need it darling.” He said and you knew he meant the two of you needed to spend some time together, especially after this last month.

“That sounds like a really good idea.” You said into his chest as he shot his mum a text. “I love you.” You said as you slightly wiped your tears on his shirt, he ran a hand through your hair and it comforted you, it always had done, he rested his chin on your head.

“I love you too. I need to go into the office tomorrow to finish up this contract, you can meet me there?” He asked as he got his reply from his mum, glad to accept the offer of having her grandson for the night.

You’d spent the entirety of the next day getting excited, it’d been a while since you’d been out and you looked at the clock as you got Liam’s things ready for the night.

“Now what do you do at grandmas?” You said as you helped Liam put his coat on.

“I do as I’m told even if she has different rules to mummy and daddy.” He said confidently. You and Tom had tried to instil the importance of respecting other people and their homes and items from a young age.

“That’s right.” You said and Liam smiled proudly at remembering the mantra you and Tom had set.

“Mummy, will I get to see daddy today?” He asked and you frowned slightly as you ran a hand through his curls, trying to tame them.

“No darling, daddy’s had to work and then we’re going out but you’ll see him tomorrow.” You said and he pouted.

“Can we go and see him before I go?” He asked and he had those same puppy dog eyes his father had managed to master. You laughed as you nodded, sending Nikki a text to explain you’d be a little later than planned.

Once you pulled up to Tom’s office building you heard Liam gasp, he always did when he saw the large building his dad worked in. You laughed again as you got him out of the car, saying hi to one of the security guards who let you straight in.

“Remember you have to behave here my love, this is daddy’s work.” You said as you watched Liam get more and more excited in the lift, you knew it was falling on deaf ears. He always got excited when he came to Tom’s office, he loved the chair Tom had because he could spin around in it. The lift doors opened and Liam almost bolted out of the lift and straight into the arms of Linda.

Linda was an elderly receptionist that had worked for the company for years, she was lovely and she absolutely adored Liam.

“Linda!” Liam giggled as she bent down to hug him, you smiled at the interaction.

“Hello Liam.” She said as she looked at you with a comforting smile. “Hello Y/N. Feels like a lifetime since I’ve seen you here.” She smiled, it had been a while, probably six months. “You look beautiful.” She said and you blushed slightly.

You were wearing sweats and one of Tom’s old t shirts, no makeup and your hair had been messily shoved up. You doubted you looked your best.

“Where’s daddy?” Liam asked as he looked around the room for his dad.

“He’s in his office my love.” Linda said and you both watched as Liam bolted towards the closed door, laughing as he did.

“Excuse me, you can’t go in there.” You heard a harsh voice as you followed Liam further into the office space, Linda huffed lightly at the voice. “Where’s your parents.” You heard again and you made your way towards the interaction. As soon as you saw her you heart dropped and you suddenly became more aware of how you looked.

A beautiful woman was sat at the secretaries desk, hair done perfectly, slim figure and beautifully done makeup. Tom hadn’t mentioned he’d hired someone new, you suddenly felt more insecure than you had in a while.

“I’m sorry, he’s mine.” You said as Liam gripped your leg, hugging you tightly, he thought he was in trouble. The woman scoffed.

“Did you have some sort of appointment, Mr Holland is extremely busy.” She almost snapped.

“Well no but Liam wanted to see him. I’m his wife.” You said and she looked you up and down, you felt insecure under her stare.

“Mr Holland is busy as I’ve said.” She snapped again and before you could open your mouth Linda spoke up.

“Gina, he won’t mind, he never does. Let them in.” She said and you felt grateful for her.

“I’ll call him and make sure it’s okay.” She said and she continued to eye you as she picked the phone up. “Mr Holland, there’s a woman here with a young boy, claiming to be your wife.” She said and your eyebrows shot up at her rudeness. Before you could say anything his office door opened.

“Hello darling.” He said as he picked Liam up. “Little man.” He said as Liam laughed loudly, you watched as Gina stared at your husband, clearly infatuated with him, then again who wouldn’t be? Liam wriggled to get out of his embrace, disappearing into his office and you knew you’d find him in Tom’s office chair if you followed.

Tom pulled you into him as he kissed you and smiled into it. You swear you almost heard Gina scoff but shook it off, he was your husband. “Not that I mind but what are you doing here?” He asked quietly.

“Liam wanted to see you, although now I’m not so sure if it’s just the chair he wanted.” You laughed and Tom playfully rolled his eyes.

“You look beautiful my love.” He said and you blushed again as you bit your lip. “Stop doing that.” He laughed as he tugged your lip from your teeth for what felt like the millionth time in your relationship.

“Hardly.” You scoffed and Tom shook his head.

“I love this chilled out mum look you have going on.” He said and he meant it, he thought you were beautiful regardless, but this had to be his favourite look.

“You look better than I did when I had kids.” Linda joined in as you turned to look at her, Tom’s arms instantly wrapping around your waist from behind as his head rested on your shoulder. You watched as Gina rolled her eyes at the interaction, attention back on the screen in front of her, she made you feel self-conscious, she was gorgeous.

“I’m sure that’s not true.” You laughed shyly and she smiled.

“You do my love. Tom is a very lucky man to have a woman like you.” Linda teased and Tom laughed.

“You’re not wrong there.” He said as he kissed your cheek before disappearing off to find Liam in his office.

“I need to go and get a coffee, do you want one?” Linda asked and you politely declined, you wanted to beg her to stay, not wanting to be left alone with Gina for too long. But here you were, awkwardly stood as she pierced you with her gaze.

“So how long have you been married to Mr Holland?” She asked, hands placed under her chin, she looked unbothered by you.

“Almost four years, it’s our anniversary next month.” You answered.

“How old is he?” She asked referring to Liam.

“Three and a half.” You said and she almost scoffed.

“Ah, so he married you because you were pregnant?” She asked, judgement laced throughout her tone.

“No. He was going to ask anyway.” You said confidently.

“That what he told you?” She asked, placing an insecurity you’d not had before into your brain, it was going to be lodged there for a while.

“It’s true.” You said, almost weakly and she shrugged, eyes going back to the computer.

“I’m sure, I’m sure.” She said unbothered and it made your blood boil as you almost stormed into Tom’s office, heart melting at the sight in front of you. Tom was spinning Liam in his chair as Liam laughed and you smiled, all anger dissipating.

“Come on you, we need to get you to grandmas.” You said to Liam and he pouted slightly. “I’ve heard she’s making your favourite for dinner.” You said and Liam jumped off the chair, making his way over to you as you and Tom laughed.

“Love you buddy, see you tomorrow.” Tom said and Liam ran back to him for one final hug. “Be good for grandma okay?” He said and Liam nodded.

“I love you daddy, bye.” Liam shouted as he ran towards the lift.

“Good bye Mrs Holland.” Gina spoke almost mockingly and you wanted to cry as you mumbled a good bye, Tom pulling you in for a last kiss.

“I’ll see you in about an hour?” He said and you smiled weakly as you nodded. “You okay?” He asked as he ran a thumb over your cheek.

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s nothing.” You reassured and Tom hesitantly nodded as you made your way towards the lift.

“I love you.” He called after you and you smiled as you said it back, Liam waving like a madman as the lift doors shut.

“Mummy?”

“Yes love?”

“I don’t like that lady, she was mean.” He said and you laughed at his childish words.

“Me neither baby.” You agreed.

The drive to Nikki and Dom’s was short as you thought over everything in your head, had Tom only actually asked you to marry him because you were pregnant? You couldn’t get the thought out of your head.

You arrived at their house, after pleasantries had been exchanged you found yourself having a brew with Nikki before you headed home to get changed.

“Nikki, can I ask you something? I want you to be honest.” You said and Nikki looked at you confused for a second before speaking.

“Of course you can my love.”

“Was Tom gonna propose before he found out I was pregnant?” You asked and Nikki’s hand shot towards yours as she ran a comforting thumb over it.

“Y/N, Tom had that ring for months. Ask your father, he asked permission months before you knew you were pregnant, he was going to propose as soon as the company became his. Love, I don’t know what’s going through your mind but my son loves you, every single part of you.” She said and you nodded as you felt your heart lift.

“I’ve never seen him so smitten. He loves you, he really does. He’d do anything for you and you know that. The day he told me you were pregnant, he cried because he didn’t think he could love you more than he already did and you proved him wrong. He loves the bones of you.” She continued and you smiled.

“I just get so insecure sometimes and I feel like I shut him out, it’s been worse recently.” You admitted and Nikki sighed.

“I did the same when I’d had Tom. I felt like everything changed. You need to let him in, he loves you, he’s not going anywhere.”

“But how do I do that when I haven’t for the last three and a half years?” You asked as a tear slipped down your cheek.

“Love.” She sighed. “You need to trust him when he tells you he loves you, you need to accept yourself for who you are and the changes you’ve been through, trust me, that boy is still as in love with you now as he was when he first brought you to meet me. The look of love and adoration on that boys face has never changed in the years you’ve been together. You’re lucky, you both are. You’ve created a beautiful human being out of the love you both share and he’s only fallen more in love with you watching you become the woman you are.” She explained and you nodded, taking in her words.

“There’s a woman at his office. She’s beautiful and I think she likes him.” You said and Nikki almost laughed.

“Sorry love. I don’t mean to laugh but my son is not interested at all. I don’t think the most aesthetically pleasing woman could turn his head, he adores you.”

You felt better after your conversation with Nikki as you headed back to Tom’s office after having gotten changed into something more outgoing. Gina had gone by the time you’d returned and Tom was just finishing up the contract before you found yourselves at one of your favourite restaurants.

“It’s good to finally be out.” Tom said and you nodded in agreement, it had been a while since your last date night. He grabbed your hand across the table and laced your fingers together, you felt yourself smile at the interaction, you really did love this man and Nikki was right, he never did anything that made you doubt his love for you.

“What can I get for you both?” The waiter interrupted and Tom gave him his order before the waiter looked at you.

“I think I’m going to go for the pesto pasta.” You said and Tom’s eyebrows shot up as the waiter nodded and disappeared.

“I didn’t think you liked pesto all that much.” He said and you shrugged.

“Fancied a change.” You answered and Tom nodded.

“Do you want to get a bottle of wine?” He asked and you shook your head.

“No I don’t really feel like drinking.” You said honestly. You hadn’t felt great for the past month or so, putting it down to the change in weather as autumn approached.

“Are you still ill?” He asked and you shrugged.

“Just a cold or something.” You said and his face looked concerned for you, he hated when you were ill.

“You sure? You’ve still been throwing up.” He pointed out, of course he’d heard your morning wake up calls, he was always up early for the gym.

“Yeah, it’s just a stomach bug I swear.” You said.

“It’s pretty persistent, maybe we should book you a doctors appointment?” He suggested and your heart felt full at his concern over you.

“I will, if it carries on I will.” You said and he smiled.

“Good.” He said as you sipped your water. “I’ve missed you.” He suddenly said, eyes full of longing.

“I’ve missed you too. I’m sorry, I’ve just felt really shitty lately.” You said and he nodded.

Your night went well, neither of you realised how tired you were until you ate and suddenly you both felt sleepy and as soon as you both got into bed you were asleep. You slept better in his embrace that night, missing his warmth and the safety you felt from having him back in bed.

You woke up as you usually did with the urge to vomit, unwrapping yourself from Tom’s arms as he groggily woke up, confusion lacing his features as he watched you bolt to the bathroom. He heard as you emptied the contents of your stomach into the bowl and sighed as he got up, feet padding into the bathroom. You were sat with your back against the wall, sweat covering your features, you looked tired. He sighed again as he sat next to you and brought your head into his chest, he felt your forehead and frowned.

“You’re quite warm baby.” He said and you nodded slightly.

“I’ll be okay.” You said and he huffed.

“You need to book a doctor’s appointment.” He said firmly and you knew there was no point in arguing. When it came to you and your health he took it very seriously.

“Okay.” You agreed as he kissed your head.

“Okay let’s get some sleep before we have to pick Liam up.” He said as he stood you both up, you quickly brushed your teeth as you made your way back into bed, you laid your head on his arm as he spooned you, arm draping around your waist as he lifted your (his) shirt to rub the skin of your stomach.

It suddenly made you feel insecure. What if he could feel your stretch marks? You tensed slightly in his embrace.

“What’s wrong?” He asked as you tried to move the shirt down so there would be a layer between his hand and your skin.

“I’ve got stretch marks.” You said quietly and he placed kisses all over your cheeks.

“Baby, I love you.” He said and you smiled. “You’re everything to me, you know that right? I want you to know that. I love you and I really wish you’d love yourself the way I do.” He said and you relaxed slightly in his embrace, Nikki’s words resonating through your mind.

You’d gotten a rare weekday off with Tom, he’d gotten up to take Liam to nursery and joined you back in bed. He’d carefully woken you up with gentle kisses to your face and neck. You woke up wet and horny, instantly pulling him into a kiss. It also seemed like a rare day you hadn’t woken up feeling ill.

“Morning baby.” He whispered against your lips as you smiled.

“Morning.” You mumbled as he pressed his lips against yours again. It was a very long time since you’d had morning sex. The opportunity didn’t present itself often but you weren’t going to let this one pass you by. Your hands slid into his hair and he groaned as you tugged lightly at the curls.

“I fucking love you.” He said as he disconnected your lips and trailed kisses down your neck. He reached for lamp that he’d flicked on earlier, intending to turn it off, you had extremely thick curtains so light wouldn’t wake you in the summer months, you were a light sleeper. You found an ounce of confidence in yourself that you’d not had for a while. You couldn’t carry on like this, you needed to start trusting him with your body, even if you only took small steps.

You reached for his hand and laced them together and he looked at you confused as you brought his knuckles to your lips.

“Leave it on.” You said and he smiled as he kissed your forehead.

“You sure?” He asked and you nodded as you bit your lip, he raised his brow at you and you instantly released as he smiled and kissed you again. His hand trailed down to your pyjama pants as he played with the hem and you almost moaned at the contact, it’d been a while since you’d felt this needy for him. He trailed kisses down your neck again as his hand found its way into your pants, you moaned as his finger trailed up your heat, feeling how wet you are.

“Fuck baby, you’re soaked.” He said and you moaned as his finger circled your clit lightly. “God you get so wet for me, so needy.” He said and you moaned again as he put more pressure on your clit. “Missed hearing those beautiful sounds.” He said as he bit your earlobe. It wasn’t often you could be loud in bed and you were seizing this opportunity to be.

“Tom, please.” You almost begged, he was putting pressure on your clit, but not enough. It had been a while since you’d been vocal in bed and he was almost shocked when he heard your voice but quickly recovered.

“Please what sweetheart?” He said and you lifted your hips to try and create more pressure.

“Tom, I want more, please.” This time you did beg.

“Whatever my wife wants, she gets.” He said as he put the amount of pressure on your clit that he knew you needed.

You became a moaning mess as he fingered you, praising you and whispering all his dirty thoughts into your ear when his phone rang. He ignored it the first few times but it was becoming a distraction for the both of you.

“Tom, will you please shut that off?” You said and he laughed as he kissed your cheek, reaching for his phone, brow furrowed as he studied the screen. “What?” You asked and he shook his head.

“Nothing just work. I’ll sort it later.” He said as he went to shut off his phone but you stopped him.

“You should probably see what it is.” You said and he shook his head.

“Not today baby.” He said and you sighed, his staff knew not to bother him on his days off unless it was important. “I’ll sort it later.” He said as his phone rang again in his hand.

“Answer it.” You encouraged and he cursed before apologising putting the phone to his ear.

“What?” He answered in an almost snappy tone that made you hold in a laugh. Your stomach dropped when you heard the familiar voice at the other end, jealousy rising in your stomach.

“Mr Holland. I’m really sorry to bother you, I hope you weren’t doing anything important.” You heard Gina’s voice.

“What’s wrong? It’s my day off.” He asked as he sighed. You sat up and crossed your arms over your chest the feeling of jealousy settling in your chest. He furrowed his brows as he watched you, taking your hand in his.

“Mr Reed has been calling all morning, he wants a meeting at twelve to go over a couple of things in the contract, he says it will only be an hour.” She said and Tom squeezed your hand as he looked at you apologetically.

“One minute.” He said as he covered the speaker with his hand that was holding yours. “Baby I’m sorry but I need to go into the office for a short while, I promise I’ll only be an hour and a half.” He said apologetically and you put on a fake smile as you nodded. He removed his hand and spoke through the phone again. “Tell him I’ll be there.” He said.

“Brilliant.” You heard her say almost excitedly. “I look forward to seeing you Mr Holland.” It almost sounded like she purred down the phone and your blood boiled as your nostrils flared.

“Bye.” Tom said in response. He took in your angry features as he put the phone down. “You okay?” He asked and you huffed.

“I don’t like her.” You said and he furrowed his brows.

“Who?”

“That secretary of yours.” You almost snapped.

“Gina? Why?” He asked.

“She likes you.” You stated and he sighed.

“Baby, I don’t think she does. Anyway it wouldn’t matter, I love you.” He reassured as he kissed your forehead. You nodded slightly in response trying to push the jealousy you felt back into your mind. “Baby?” He said when you didn’t respond for a minute. “Baby? I’ll be back soon okay, I love you.” He said and he sighed when you didn’t respond getting off the bed and disappearing into the bathroom to shower.

Your emotions suddenly got the best of you, you were angry. You felt like you’d tried to make a step and now he was ditching you to go to work. The rational part of your brain knew it was poor timing and that he couldn’t help it, he had to go into work to sort this contract, it was a huge one for his company and the man he was liaising with was very demanding.

“I love you.” He said as he buttoned his shirt up.

“I love you too.” You said from your spot on the bed.

“How about you meet me at the office? We can go for lunch?” He suggested and you nodded. “I’ll seen you soon princess.” He said as he kissed your forehead and made his way out of the door, you heard as he shut the front door and you picked up a pillow as you screamed in frustration into it. You felt like you had no control over the jealousy and anger coursing through you. You hoped your doctors appointment tomorrow would answer a few questions for you.

Tom was getting worried about you, you’d been quieter recently, you’d told him that Gina made you feel insecure and it didn’t matter what he said you didn’t seem to listen. Your emotions seemed to be out of control and you were yet to tell him what happened at your doctor’s appointment that was almost a month ago. He’d tried bringing it up but you just shut the conversation down and to say it added to his worry for you was an understatement.

You’d had insecurities for years and Tom was aware of them, he tried to help but he was running out of ways to help you, you barely had sex at the moment, although when you did, you allowed the lamp to be left on so long as the duvet was involved to cover you both. He loves you, he really does and he sighed as he played with his wedding ring thinking about the argument you’d had last week.

“I don’t like her Tom. She flirts with you in front of me and it’s starting to piss me off.” You snapped at him and he ran a hand through his hair.

“Y/N, I don’t know what you want me to do.” He sighed.

“Get rid of her.” You stated like it was the most obvious thing in the world and he ran a hand down his face.

“I can’t do that. She’s good at her job, what would I fire her for? I have no evidence that she’s inappropriate towards me and she could sue for unfair dismissal.” He pointed out.

“Tom, she eye fucks you every time she looks at you.”

"I’m not interested. I don’t know how many times I have to say it.”

“I don’t trust her.”

“You should trust me.” He said and hurt laced his tone, your face instantly dropping.

“Tom, I’m sorry. I do trust you. She just makes me feel so insecure, she’s gorgeous.”

“I don’t think she is, Y/N, I love you. Why can’t you just accept that? Accept that I love you for you. I’m tired, I really am darling, I can’t keep going round in circles with you.” Tom sighed.

“What are you saying?” You asked sceptically and he sighed.

“I don’t know Y/N, I just know I’m tired of this cycle.” He said before making his way up to bed and leaving you on the couch to think everything through.

Things had been a little awkward since, you had been quieter around him, almost frightened to speak and he hated it. He didn’t wanna lose you but he felt like he was, your insecurities had seemingly gotten the better of you, he thought you’d been making progress and then a couple of months ago you became colder, snappier and he didn’t know what to do.

“Where’s your head at?” Harrison pulled him from his thoughts and Tom sighed.

“Y/N/N.” He said and Harrison’s eyebrows furrowed.

“What about her?”

“She’s so insecure and I don’t know what to do to help.” Tom sighed. “She has been since she had Liam but it’s gotten worse over the last two months.” He continued.

“How’d you mean?” Harrison asked.

“She won’t let me see her body, hasn’t since Liam really.”

“What? You’ve not seen her naked?” Harrison asked.

“No. Well yeah, but only on rare occasions.” Tom elaborated. “I don’t understand, she’s fucking gorgeous, I love her so much. Gina makes her feel insecure.” Tom said and Harrison raised his brows again.

“Tom, mate. Maybe you’ve both let this go on too long. It’s your anniversary today, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Tom smiled, you’d been married four years today and he felt ecstatic.

“You should go home and you should take control. Don’t let her shy away back into herself. Make her understand how you feel, don’t let her get too stuck inside her head. Maybe try counselling, loads of couples have it.” Harrison suggested and Tom sighed.

“Maybe you’re right, she’s been through so many changes at such a young age and I think I need to remind my girl what she means to me, that I’m not just with her because we have a child together or out of convenience or anything, thanks mate.” Tom smiled slightly and Harrison placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“You’ll be okay. You both will. You’re rock solid.”

Tom’s day was slow, the anticipation of seeing you tonight was kicking in as he watched the end of his shift roll onto the clock in front of him, just as he was packing up his things he heard a knock at his door.

“Come in.” He said and he watched as Gina made her way through the door. “What’s up?” He asked and she smiled at him, it seemed almost mischievous.

“Mr Holland, I was hoping to catch you.” She said as she walked towards him, hips swinging more than usual.

“What do you need? I’m in a bit of a hurry.” He said in the most polite way possible.

“What are your plans for the evening?” She asked as she leant on his desk. Cleavage showing as Tom looked away awkwardly.

“It’s my anniversary, need to get home to my wife.” He said and she laughed harshly.

“Come on Tom. She can’t seriously make you happy? I’ve seen how stressed you’ve been lately. Let me relieve some of it. She’s clearly not.”

“Gina, this is inappropriate.” Tom stated firmly and she smiled cockily at him.

“Oh come on Tom. You must want someone better.” She said as she walked around the desk and set on the edge of his desk in front of him, he instantly stood up and created a distance between them. She laughed again.

“I won’t tell if you won’t. I can offer you so much more, I’m put more effort into myself, I’d look good for you every day, not just on a rare date night. I work and from what I’ve heard she doesn’t. I don’t have the body of someone who’s had a kid, no stretch marks or extra weight.” She said and every word was making Tom angrier, how fucking dare she?

“Gina, I suggest you leave.” Tom said firmly.

“Fine. Go home to your boring house wife, try not to think about me while you’re having boring, mediocre sex with a boring, mediocre woman.” She said as she hopped off his desk and his anger boiled at her words. He needed her to leave. Just when he thought he’d get his wish she spun around to speak again. “I wouldn’t keep you chained at home because of some kid.” She said and Tom’s anger boiled over.

“I expect your two weeks’ notice on Monday.” He stated firmly and her jaw dropped. “Or I am letting you go for inappropriate behaviour. You know nothing about my wife and our relationship, she is more of a woman than you will ever hope to be. She’s beautiful without having to try, she’s kind and she’s given me a son I love more than anything. You do not belong in my company and I will quickly be finding your replacement. That will be easy. You were stupid however, to believe you could replace my wife, she is one woman who is irreplaceable in my life."

“As for the remarks about her body, she has given me the greatest and most treasured gift I’ve ever received and that is the pleasure of being a dad, my son means the more than anything to me and if it wasn’t for my wife he wouldn’t be here, so I would appreciate it if you kept your comments to yourself and shut your mouth.”

He finished his rant and watched her angrily storm out of his office as he slumped back into his chair, running his hands over his face, you were right, she couldn’t be trusted. Tom sat there and thought about you for a solid fifteen minutes, alone in his office.

He loves you and he’s going to prove it, Harrison was right, he needed to take control of the situation, not let you shy away from him. Maybe some counselling would be of benefit but he didn’t care, it was nothing to be ashamed of. If it’s what you needed then he’d do it for you, he’d do anything for you. He had let this go on for too long, he realised as he sat there that you’d both fallen into a routine and not spoken as much as you should when these insecurities first made an appearance.

It wasn’t as if you’re marriage was unhappy, it was incredibly happy but the last couple of months had been hard on you both. He sighed as he made his way to his car, you were his everything, you were the person he wanted to grow old with, he didn’t want anyone else. He was itching to get home to you now, wishing the journey would be faster despite the short amount of time it took him to get home. He was glad it would just be you in when he got home, Liam was staying at your mum’s for the night.

As he approached the front door and unlocked it he was quick to throw his things to the side and hang his jacket up. His feet padded around the house until he found you in the library reading, it was always your escape, something you found comfort in and he loved catching you when you had your head stuck in a book. He found it so domestic and it filled his heart with a warmth only you could. He still loved you as much now as he did when he fell for you all those years ago.

“Hi princess.” He said and he laughed lightly as you jumped, you’d been so stuck into your book you’d not heard him.

“Tom! I didn’t hear you come in.” You said and he laughed.

“Clearly.” He snorted and watched as you smiled at him, god it was a beautiful smile, Liam had the same one. “Happy anniversary.” He said and your smile widened.

“Happy anniversary.” You said as you put your book down and he approached you, extending his hand, you took it, furrowed brows.

“We’ve got an hour before we need to start getting ready to go out.” He said and you smiled again. “Come with me.” He said as he led you out of the library and into the bedroom. “Stand.” He said as he motioned in front of him. You looked confused but did anyway. “Turn around.” You did and you were met with the mirror that was on your wardrobe.

“Tom-“ You started but he cut you off.

“Baby, I love you.” He said and he kissed your temple, eyes connected with yours through the glass of the mirror. “Every inch of you is perfect.” He said and you blushed, almost on instinct his thumb came to your bottom lip before you could bite it.

“What are you doing?” You asked and he smiled at you as he kissed your neck.

“I want you to see what I do. Love yourself like I do.” He said and his tone was so gentle that you could have cried with how full your heart felt. “You have such a beautiful face.” He said as he kissed your cheek. He lifted your top and took it off, your head instantly turning so you weren’t looked into the mirror. “Princess, look.” He said and you blushed, his hand coming round to grasp your chin, pulling your face back to the mirror.

You watched as he peppered kisses along your shoulder. “You are perfection to me.” He said as he slowly unclipped your bra, letting it fall to the floor. He continued to place kisses to your shoulder and you reached up to run a hand through his hair, you found it comforting. You swallowed your nerves at him seeing your body, he loved you, he still thought you were beautiful.

You started to say it over and over again in your mind as your nerves settled, he continued to whisper all the things he loved about you into your ear as your head rested back onto his shoulder. He slowly took your leggings and underwear off before standing back up and wrapping his arms around your waist, placing his chin on your shoulder.

“Baby, you have nothing to be insecure about, I want you to look at yourself. You’re perfect, I don’t want anyone else, you’re it for me, you’re my everything. You’ve given me a beautiful son and you shouldn’t punish yourself for that, you might have had a few changes but I still love you the same, if not more. Princess, I need you to trust me when I say it.” He said as his eyes scanned your body, you really were beautiful, every stretch mark a reminder that you’d brought your beautiful child into the world and he couldn’t be more grateful to you.

He watched as the blush in your cheeks calmed the more he praised your body, your insecurities being fought back by his truths and he knew it was a step forward, you still had many more to take but it was a start, he loves you and he’s willing to do anything for you, wait as long as you want.

You felt your insecurities dissipate the more he spoke, you had to let him in, you had to let him heal you, see you. You’re married, you love each other. You turned your face as you pulled him closer to you, his head turning as you caught his lips in a kiss, it was sweet at first until it grew deeper, needier, and more desperate.

“Tom, I want you.” You said and he peppered kisses down your neck, he turned you around to face him, one hand in your hair and the other on your waist. He pulled you closer to him as you continued to kiss, tongues finding each other’s as they fought for dominance that Tom won. He walked you back until you were on the bed, back hitting the mattress.

“Gonna make you feel good.” He said into the skin of your neck and you shivered in anticipation, growing more aroused by the second. He kissed down your body and you let out a shaky breath as his breath fanned your clit. He licked a stripe through your wet folds and almost moaned at the taste, he listened as you moaned out. “Sound so hot baby.” He spoke against you and the vibrations shot straight through your body.

He lapped at your clit as you moaned his name, occasionally sucking your clit before releasing it and gentle licking it again. You threw your head back at the sensations and Toms hand came up to lace with yours, you felt him leave your clit for a second and just as you were about to ask why he stopped he spoke.

“I want you to look at me princess. I want to watch your beautiful face as you come apart on my tongue.” He said and you almost moaned at his words when you felt his tongue on your clit again. You snapped your eyes to his and the look in them sent new waves of pleasure through your system. The intimacy making you more aroused, you could see the clear lust in his eyes but the look of love and adoration was there too.

He moved his free hand and circled a finger around your entrance as he continued to suck and lick at your clit and you moaned as he slid his finger in, never breaking eye contact and it was hot, your insecurities moving further into the back of your mind in this moment. You loved him so much and you knew he loved you. You moaned as you felt him add a second finger, curling them towards your g spot.

Every lick and stroke against your clit and g spot was bringing you closer to your edge as you looked into each other’s eyes as he brought you closer. Your orgasm was fast approaching and you squeezed his hand, using it as an anchor to keep your hips still. “I want you to come for me princess.” He said as he sucked your clit, a little harsher this time as his fingers stroked your g spot faster and more frequently.

You felt yourself barrel over the edge and into the waves beneath, getting lost in your orgasm as you threw your head back, eyes closed as you moaned his name and he fucked you through your high with his fingers. You came down from your high as he made his way back up your body, kissing every inch he could on the way. You reached down to unbuckle his belt and he stopped you.

“Not tonight my love, this is about you.” He said and your heart melted, you loved this man. He brought his fingers to his mouth and licked them clean, your arousal grew again as you watched him. He reached into the bedside table and as he was about to pull out a condom you stopped him.

“Don’t need one tonight.” You said and he looked at you eyebrows raised.

“Darling, are you saying you want to try for another?” He asked and you shrugged as you grinned at him and he kissed your cheek multiple times. “I love you so much.” He spoke and you returned the words as he slipped into you, giving you a minute to adjust, you both moaned, not having the barrier of a condom made it feel so much better. He looked at you for approval before you nodded, giving him permission to move.

He rolled his hips slowly against your own as he laced both your hands together, bringing them both above your head as you both moaned. It was slow and passionate and everything you needed, you realised the light was still on but couldn’t bring yourself to care, he was showing you just how much he loved you through his actions. You moaned as he shifted his hips to angle perfectly to hit your g spot.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good.” He moaned. “Always feel amazing.” He said and you moaned.

“I love you.” You moaned out as he continued his slow and passionate pace, this was about more than just getting off and you both knew it.

“I love you so much. So lucky to have you as my wife, wouldn’t ever want anyone else, you’re my everything.” He reminded you of the words he’d said ever since you first told each other you loved each other. His thrusts grew sloppier as you both chased your highs, moaning together as his pubic bone rubbed against your clit. He pulled back slightly to look into your eyes and that was enough to send you over the edge again, moaning as you felt him finish inside you. He fucked you both through your highs as you came down together.

He collapsed on top of you and you ran your fingers through his hair as he ran his hands up and down your sides, placing kisses to your chest every now and again. It was quiet for a while as you both caught your breaths. He was still lodged inside you.

“I mean it you know. I love you.”

“I love you too.” You said as you kissed his hair and continued to run your hands through it. He kissed your shoulder as he took in a breath and pulled out of you before getting off the bed and picking you up bridal style. He carried you into the bathroom as you cleaned yourselves up and he set the bath going as you went to the toilet.

He came back into the room with towels and bubble bath, adding the liquid to the water and you smiled at the gesture, he was never really one for bubble bath but you loved it. Five minutes later and you found yourself with your back to his chest as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and you ran a hand up and down his fore arm. The excitement of the news you had getting the better of you as you spoke.

“I’m pregnant.” You said and you felt his head lift from your shoulder.

“You’re what?” He asked in shock and you laughed.

“I can’t believe we both missed it.” You said through giggles and he joined.

“Yeah makes perfect sense. I knew you weren’t a big fan of pesto.” He teased and you laughed. “Seriously though? You’re pregnant?” He asked again and you nodded furiously.

“Nine weeks. We weren’t overly careful after one of our date nights” You confirmed and he peppered your cheek with kisses.

“Oh baby, I’m so excited. I love you so much. Liam’s gonna be a big brother.” He said excitedly as you kissed his bicep. “I’m gonna be a father of two.” He said.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I wanted to wait until today.” You said and he kissed your shoulder.

“It’s fine princess. I’m so happy.” He said and you felt a tear run down your shoulder and you spun around to look at him, happy tears in his eyes.

“Tom.” You said as you wiped at his tears.

“I’m just so happy.” He said and you smiled. “Sorry, I cried over Liam too, just once the shock of it had sunk in. I think I had my suspicions this time around. God, I’m lost for words.” He said and you kissed him. “You are perfect my love, two more and we’ll have that big family we wanted.” He said and you laughed.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, childbirth is no easy task.” You teased and he kissed you, smiling into it before he brought your left hand up to his face and kissed your wedding ring.

“I couldn’t have found a more perfect partner.” He said as he placed his forehead against yours, your heart filling with so much love for him, it was almost overwhelming. He was going to tell you about Gina but he would wait for a better day, nothing was going to ruin this moment for the two of you.

You made love so many times that night you lost count. Reminding each other how much you loved each other, he didn’t leave an inch of your body untouched by the love he has for you and although you had a long way to go, you were making progress and he knew you’d get through it together as you would anything because you loved each other and neither of you could imagine a future without the other.

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland smut #tom holland angst #tom holland fluff #tom holland au #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x reader #dad!tom #ceo!tom

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hotdamnhunnam · 2 years

Text

Frontier of Anarchy – Chapter 5 –

Pairings: Jax Teller x OC || Will Miller x OC

Rating: M (swearing, sexual content, violence)

Summary: Two brothers separated at birth... bound by one woman they both love to death. This SoA / Triple Frontier crossover series alternates between the Charming high school love story of Jax Teller and Aera Lee, and Aera’s encounter with a face all too familiar—Will Miller—years later in New York City. When Jax learns that he has a twin brother... he sets out across the country with no clue that he might find him in the arms of Jax’s ex-lover. The love that he never got over.

In the FoA playlist, the three scenes of this chapter correspond to songs 13-15 – “Make Believe” // “Ride” // “The Face”

Link to Previous Chapter // Series Masterlist

____________________

Chapter 5

🎵 Song 13 from the FoA playlist: “Make Believe” by The Burned

Charming, California || 2014

I know you’ll never be the same after this kill.

It’s all too true; she always knew. She knows him even from the grave and always will. Now that the son has raised a gun up to his mother’s head and put a bullet through, there’s only one thing left to do: ride off to meet the end that calls to him from far beyond the California hills.

It’s all so clear in his mind’s eye. The way he’s gonna fucking die. For years he’s wanted this and isn’t even sure why his dead heart is beating still.

For years it’d beat for his late wife, and for his mother till he learned what she had done, then took her life. For his two sons, and for the club that’s caused him so much fucking strife. His heart is constantly at war and there are times he’s sure he lost it in the blur, or fed the pieces to the beast that he’s become until he’s man no more. Yet in his deepest damnedest core... he knows it’s there because it always beat for her.

Hold on to the one precious thing in your life that was pure. Then even if it kills you you’ll die better. From the moment Gemma wrote those words, referring to the lost love Jax still carries as his greatest curse… she knew her son would never burn this letter.

And then there’s the other—the letter for Jax’s twin brother. Part of him feels compelled to throw this trash away. Why should the kid she gave up so long ago care today, whatever sorry shit she has to say? She may have borne him but she’s not his fucking mother.

Jax won’t be the fucking messenger. Won’t let himself feel bound by her desires now she’s died. Won’t let this madwoman control him even from the other side, the hellfire to which he’s sent her.

So today he’ll cast this damn letter aside, and then he’ll take his final ride. He’ll join the queen mother of Charming six feet under and they’ll burn in hell together.

Cut the presidential patch off of his leather. Rid his fingers of these thick metallic rings. These are the trappings of a Son, and of a king—he’s neither of those things—he’s no one—nothing. He’s done, trapping what’s left of him in the shadow of Jax Fucking Teller.

And he won’t think of her ‘cause he doesn’t deserve to die better.

There’s a deep sense of peace about him ever since he had woken determined to die by the end of the day. Everyone knows damn well. Isn’t much left to say. The transition of power is well underway; Chibs will take up the gavel, a role that Jax trusts him to handle. The air in the room is heavy where the Sons are assembled. They’re tending to some final orders of business before the king goes on his way.

The hour hasn’t yet arrived, for him to take his final drive. But it’s close. He’s already a ghost.

Someone stops by this afternoon from SAMCRO’s hired cleanup crew. Till recently the club typically cleaned up their own massacres and messes, but these past few months there’s been too much to do. This team of ‘waste management’ pros—experts at helping criminals conveniently dispose, of fallen foes—consists of trusted allies of the Sons, who run some shady businesses. Jax doesn’t like them very much for a few reasons, but they get shit done, so it is what it is. Though it’s not the best time right now for someone from the crew to come around, this nitwit doesn’t have a clue, about what’s going down. Says he’s just passing through. The whole club knows they’ve got a bill that’s overdue.

This little shit goes by the name of Dash. Jax knew him back in high school as a ratty little kid often caught cutting class, reeking of hash, who thought he was so badass. Dash had idolized the golden bad boy back then—wanted to be more like Jackson. That was until senior year when Jax’s image all throughout school started going in a whole different direction.

The ash-blonde idiot with tattered shoes and white supremacist tattoos is every bit as skinny and as spineless as he was in school. Still just as much a fool. It’s really no surprise that he now spends his life taking out human trash. Jax hopes the body count will lessen for the Sons in years to come so that the club can stop relying on the services of scumbags such as Dash.

He’s here to claim some cash. Tig goes to get it from the safe while Dash makes small talk for a minute, compulsively fidgeting and scratching his crotch like he’s got some small creature stuck in it. Most nights he sleeps with any piece of ass he can afford on his low budget so he always seems to have some kind of rash.

“Lots of Chinese takeout these past few months,” he casually remarks on all the damage done to the community surrounding Henry Lin, since Gemma blamed him for her sin, and Jax just wishes he would shut his mouth for once. “Sad to see some nice yellowtail caught in the crossfire a couple weeks ago. My guys we got a rule that we don’t fuck what we dispose, but some of those sweet-looking hoes—shit got me thinking though, like who would even know...?”

Tig is returning with the payment and even for his perverted ass that’s low. The twisted grimace on his face screams dude just no.

Jax glares at Dash and fights against the urge to throw him out the window. “Just take the money and go.”

“All you boys can’t be judging me like this when you weren’t even fucking there. That shit ain’t fair,” the lowlife tries to laugh it off as he picks up his wad of dough. Shaking his head in amusement at his own sick half-joke about breaking company rules. “That shit ain’t cool. If you were there I swear...”

Dash looks over at Jax then, pausing and squinting in recollection; his drug-addled brain barely even retains shit from high school. And just from that look on his hideous face Jax can already tell what the bastard is going to say. If Dash knew better he would have just kept his mouth shut and been on his way, but he’s too much of a fucking tool.

“Oh wait hey... am I crazy or back in the day, weren’t you banging that cute little chink—”

He chokes on a bullet before he can blink.

One in his throat. Two in his chest and then another in the center of his head. Jax doesn’t think twice as he lets his gun repeatedly explode; the beast that’s bleeding at his feet deserves to look less dignified than a wild animal split open by a cavalcade of trucks running its corpse down on the road. He doesn’t give a shit the scum’s already dead. He wants to paint him red. And make his ghost regret every damn thing he ever said.

Just one more bullet. Jax’s finger is the trigger as he stands over this piece of shit and pulls it.

That’s the end of Dash.

At least now he can stop scratching his motherfucking rash.

And no one in the room is even shocked that all that happened in a flash.

Given what they all know of Jackson, that’s of course the only thing he could’ve done. And now of course these are his words to all the Sons, as he emotionlessly tucks away his gun: “Take out the trash.”

He steps out of the room, but in his wake the air’s still raging with his fumes.

For a few seconds no one wants to touch the roadkill on the floor. It’s not as if they’d never seen the savage side of Jax before, but this was something fucking more.

Chibs notices the newest prospect in their company is just a little shaken, so he mutters words of wisdom that will surely be well-taken. In his heavy Scottish accent he’s aware the words sound scary. “Remember how I told ye, we don’t ever breathe the name of Aera Lee?”

He points his finger at the dead man’s bloodied body till the prospect nods unsteadily and looks him in the eye.

“That there is why.”

The rule for anyone who knows Jax Fucking Teller is to never speak of her unless you want to fucking die.

And in this moment something tells Chibs in his gut... that there’s a door in Jax that’s still yet to be shut. He wasn’t shooting simply for the sake of everything he’d lost those years ago—he may have lost it yet he holds it in his heart no matter what. Each shot was fired in the name of love he can’t fucking let go.

Or so believes the rising President of SAMCRO. He won’t breathe a word about his intuitions to his predecessor though. Knows better than to tell him so.

In silence he’ll hope in his bones... that Jackie Boy will hit the road and realize his road isn’t done. The king has given up the throne, but maybe once he leaves his kingdom at his back he’ll come to realize not all life in him is gone.

Maybe he’ll fucking ride on.

Finally live to see the world beyond the California sun. ********************

🎵 Song 14 from the FoA playlist: “Ride” by Cary Brothers

Charming, California || 1996

The world feels bigger now.

The sky above feels higher up somehow.

Road stretches out so fucking vast, the scenes a brighter blur of earthy brown and green as he rides past. It’s not the first time Jax has ridden at this speed out on the highway. Yet it’s never felt so fast. As if the sun tempts him to chase it through the sky and fly away. As if the color of his life has been recast.

For a second while he’s riding, he stands up to fully take in the sensation of the wind whipping so briskly through his hair. He feels so powerful and tall and it’s exciting. There’s a fresh whiff of his whole entire future in the air.

His future started just last night and he’ll be seeing her again soon—plans to pick her up when she’s finished with work this sunny Saturday afternoon—and he can’t fucking wait.

Jax never thought that he would sleep with Aera Lee on their first date.

As in literally sleep with her. They’d spent the whole night, through the dark till the first spark of morning light, both fully clothed and cuddled closely on that pink loveseat together. Wasn’t quite what Jax had had in mind when he’d set up the private movie night on the rooftop of that theater; he had figured maybe they’d chat for a minute, once the film ended and he would take her home and then their first date would be finished. But a minute swiftly melted into hours and it couldn’t have gone better.

As it turned out, he and Aera hardly even slept at all given how much they had to talk about. With her Jax finds that all the words simply fall out. And they’re all true, and that’s a feeling that’s so new—it makes him realize that so much of who he is has gotten lost over these past years honestly, caught up in who this town wants him to be. A product of peer pressure and the power of his family legacy drowning him in a sea of self-hate and self-doubt.

But he’s not drowning anymore. He’s riding high and fucking flying toward his future ‘cause something about this girl—every damn thing he can’t ignore—opens some kind of door inside him to another fucking world, within his heart and makes it soar.

He hasn’t even kissed her yet the way he’s been longing to do. God knows he wanted to, last night up on that rooftop, and could tell she’d want it too, but he was pretty sure his heart would fucking stop. Maybe it sounds overdramatic but he didn’t want to put it to the test, and possibly drop dead of cardiac arrest, before he even makes it to date number two.

When the horizon glimmered golden with the rising of the sun, they’d known they had to finally end date number one. He’d walked her home with her hand cradled in his warm grasp all the while. Told her goodnight or more like good morning or something dumb like that as they approached her doorstep mirroring each other’s smitten smiles. Gave her hand a gentle squeeze. Asked if she had plans for the weekend and if not then he would love to take her on another date after her usual Saturday shift at Lee’s.

Maybe this time she’d even get to ride the beast.

Jax hadn’t said those words aloud but they were heavily implied, to say the least. So was the answer in her eyes that she would love to let him take her for a ride. Out loud she’d just enthusiastically replied her Saturday is open wide. And so are all her holes for him but that part of the answer wasn’t actually released—just maybe very subtly teased.

At any rate, after their first date, both of them went to bed very fucking pleased.

The lyrics of the title song in Beauty and the Beast say the sun rises in the east.

It’s a sweet song. Watching the ballroom scene they’d even sung along, giggling like idiots when they got the words wrong. And yet those lyrics are a bunch of lies, Jax muses with a giddy smile as he goes for a ride this afternoon to let off steam, from last night’s wild fucking dreams. Their first date proved what he’d imagined for so long, about the sunrise: that the sun rises and sets in that girl’s eyes.

Meanwhile Aera can’t stop swooning over that boy all throughout the day with stupid schoolgirl sighs. Her shift today is noon to three. And then she’s free. Till then she really ought to focus on her job but his goddamn face won’t escape her brain no matter how she tries. She’s not sure what will ever stop this fire in her heart and flood between her thighs... no idea what could ever bring her down from this highest of highs...

It’s in the middle of this train of thought that Jess Dalton arrives.

She’s just as polished and pretentious as the cherry red convertible she drives. Tosses her glossy auburn waves over her shoulder as she struts through the front entrance, followed by two of her minions who have tried so hard to mimic her for all their teenaged lives—who think that they’ve achieved some semblance close to physical perfection with a mess of desperately applied makeup and lengthy hair extensions—but have miserably failed somehow to capture Jess’s essence. For all their efforts at resemblance, they have failed to reach that level of pretension.

Aera is manning the cash register today, as she does often ever since Steph went away. When the queen bee of Charming flounces through the door, her green eyes land immediately on the object of her enmity standing across the store. Her heels click their signature clack across the floor, as she marks Aera Lee as her targeted prey, and furiously storms her way.

Ugh. Aera really doesn’t want to start a war. As if high school’s not already shitty enough. She isn’t here for any girl-vs.-girl games this hateful bitch has come to play. And yet Jess Dalton is already keeping score; her dignity has been insulted and the culprit has to pay.

For Jess it’s not just that her recent fling with Jax has been disastrously upstaged—it’s that the enemy is someone of an inferior race, which is an absolute disgrace. Complete and utter fucking outrage.

“Does it always reek of egg rolls in this place?” she mutters to her friends just loud enough to make sure the cashier can hear the shit she says, as a disgusted grimace twists across her face. Aera just rolls her eyes in silence as she tries not to engage.

But Jessica Dalton is not to be ignored. She isn’t one for subtlety by any means—she’s never been—her flair for drama is quite honestly absurd. As Redwood High School’s reigning queen, she has a thing for causing scenes and treating everyone beneath her like a worthless piece of turd. And so she leans over the counter and makes sure that this audacious nerd can hear her every word.

“I heard the rumors you went on a nice romantic date last night. Happiest moment of your sad pathetic nerd life am I right?”

Aera bites back the thought of reaching for the gun kept in the drawer behind the register, just as she’d done when Bryce had followed Jax into the store to start a fight. She’d really like to do the same thing to his sister. Would resist the urge to pull the fucking trigger but if Jess keeps up this bullshit she just might...

Apparently the rumors had spread rapidly, of Jax Teller and Aera Lee canoodling over noodles at a lovely little restaurant. Naturally Jess received the news very unhappily. And she deflects all of her issues back at Aera in the form of racist taunts.

“I’m gonna burst your fairytale bubble up front: you are not the kind of girl a guy like Jax would ever want.” The queen proceeds to blow and pop a big pink bubble with her gum to get the point through loud and clear. “I don’t know what’s going on here—maybe it’s just some kind of bet or he’ll sweet talk you into doing all his homework for a year—but there is no way that boy’s legendary dick is ever going near your little yellow cunt.”

Before last night some part of Aera might have flinched at such a bold outright affront.

But now she doesn’t. Not at all. Something about the way her heart blossomed last night has made her soul stand proud and tall. It might not make sense but she feels secure and powerful today in ways she previously wasn’t.

It feels good. Feels good as fuck. She’s grown up more in these past few days than she thought she ever would—ever since that moment when she had grabbed that gun and held her ground with newfound courage coursing through her that she barely understood. And as she looks up at the clock and sees the hour of her second date has struck, she hears the roaring of the beast outside and turns to see Prince Charming through the window and realizes that she can believe her luck. Ever since last night she’s believing things she thought she never could.

Till recently, Aera Lee often used to doubt her wildest dreams had any chance of coming true. But now some truths are plain to see. The lines have blurred between reality and fantasy; believing is the only thing to do.

It brings a smile to her lips, now as she looks over her shoulder through the window. Jax is so excited hopping off his bike he almost trips. Chasing the dream that’s now within his grip—he’s never letting go.

Meanwhile Jessica is standing at the counter shocked that Aera isn’t bursting into tears. Glares at her archenemy’s face and can’t abide the little smile that appears.

She can’t believe she isn’t yet winning this war against the quiet little grocery store clerk. “Excuse me bitch is that a smirk?!”

The quiet girl doesn’t have time for this shit though. It wasn’t quite a smirk before but now it is with how the corners lift into a subtle quirk. “Oh, I don’t know. I’m sorry but I’ve got to go—the legendary dick is here to pick me up so I can do his homework.”

So he is indeed, to take her on his mighty steed, and Jess can’t do a goddamn thing about it.

She could pull this bitch’s shimmery dark hair or smack her hard across the cheek, but she’s too shook right now to move or even speak. All her supremacy as queen has just been flouted. And the hard fact—one she won’t accept no matter how her pride might get attacked—is that she’s nothing without it.

Of course her followers are speechless too as they watch Aera leave. Their empty heads agree that the audacity is too much to believe.

While Jess stands there and seethes, the stink of weed starts to invade the air she breathes. She recognizes the ash-blonde moron who happens to be near and couldn’t help but overhear, though it’s a memory that she’d rather forget, from a night she fiercely regrets. A tasteless whistle wheezes out between his teeth. Of course he just happens to be hanging round here. As Jess recovers from what Aera Lee just said, it’s the last thing she needs to run into this motherfucking pothead.

His name is Ash or Dax or something like that but it doesn’t even matter. Makes her skin crawl with the words he dares to utter and the way he’s looking at her. “Hey baby. Wanna do my homework maybe?”

“Oh my God no, you’re disgusting,” Jess recoils as she feels like throwing up right now like literally though. Issues with Dash aside, her frequent bouts of nausea started days ago. And in her gut she’s terrified... that this can only mean one thing.

So she instructs her girls to wait for her outside, then rushes over to the bathroom as her stomach keeps revolting. She would rather deal with this whole thing herself. And once she’s done puking up buckets, she heads down an empty aisle on her way out of the market, snatching a pregnancy test off of the shelf. Stealthily rips the barcode off the paper box and leaves without paying a thing. Why should she when her rich daddy owns everything in this town because he’s the fucking king?

As far as Aera is concerned the only king on earth is Jackson Fucking Teller. It’s only their second date and he already bought a special helmet for her—it’s a lustrous champagne gold with subtle floral accents and it fits so well on her. Makes her feel like a fucking princess but somehow it’s not too tacky or too delicate; somehow it’s got a badass edge to it.

The butterflies are back for both of them as Jax fastens her helmet. Thinking to himself that she looks hot as hell in it.

Their hearts are racing while they settle in their seats. The beast is so alive with raw power and heat. As Aera wraps her arms around his waist and clasps her hands beneath his chest, resting her face against the leather of his vest, she starts to melt from how Jax Teller’s frame and hers are now so intimately pressed. The world begins and ends right where they meet.

“You alright?” he asks her warmly as he gets the engine going. Feels the thrum of it course up throughout his bloodstream which his dangerous when he’s already got all his juices flowing. The sweet sensation of her nodding and smiling against his kutte makes all the world shine so damn bright. “Alright, we’ll take it slow at first but hold on tight.”

The way she holds him makes it clear that letting go of him is something she would never dare to do.

He asks her something cheesy as the bike starts moving forward through the quiet small town avenue. Charming still feels like home but no longer the prison of his future, as it’d always seemed before; now it feels like a place he’s passing through. An avenue leading toward something so much more. “Where to?”

Aera digs Disney-level cheesy so she says what Jax already knows is true. “Anywhere with you.”

She’d ride with him into the pit of hell itself and won’t even be scared to. Hell is heaven just so long as he’s there too.

They pick up speed slowly but surely all throughout the afternoon. Jax makes a turn onto the highway pretty soon; the Harley vibrates underneath them in a way that makes her swoon. So does his scent as she breathes in the energy that’s radiating off his skin, musky and maddeningly masculine... it makes her want to sin... sends her over the goddamn moon, even now as the sun is blazing while she sits and soaks it in...

He’s so ridiculously firm. So big and powerful and warm, the bulging ripple of his muscles underneath layers of worn leather and flannel as she wraps his torso tightly in her arms. She hopes she’s not soaking the motorcycle seat through the thin fabric of her sundress and just thinking of it makes her start to squirm.

It’s just around then that they pull up to a quiet spot of greenery, a small secluded park just off the road. In all the areas surrounding Charming, Aera’s never seen such lovely scenery. The rocky hills of California flank this lovely little haven and the beauty is alarming. It’s where Jax comes to find peace and scribble dumb shit in his journal when his head feels like it’s going to explode.

The park is quite a hidden gem, but not totally isolated as there are some others strolling down the tree-lined path or spreading picnic blankets on the grass within viewing distance of them. There’s a concession stand nearby selling big soft pretzels and ice cream. They of course run over there, indulge in one of each to share. And as Jax watches Aera’s tongue swirl all around the sweet white goodness it’s a scene out of a motherfucking dream.

For a long while they just amble through the park with constant smiles on their faces. Ever since last night, all the words that they’ve exchanged have been so happy and so light. That carries on so naturally this afternoon and it feels right given how picturesque this place is. Sun-kissed and idyllic and bright. Crack silly jokes and pick up conversations all about their passions and the stuff they love to see and read and write. With her he finally feels he’s worthy of the crazy dream he chases, and with him she holds her dreams so close and tight, till they’re the only thing in sight.

The conversation turns to family at some point and Aera talks about how she’s an only child and her mom is her best friend for life. When Minah married Aera’s dad he made the unorthodox move of taking her last name, which is why Aera shares the same. In the time since her parents split when she was ten, she’s been on good terms with her father but she doesn’t see him often, and their bond has grown more distant as he lives miles away with his new wife. The divorce left him heartbroken for quite some time though it was civil and nobody was to blame.

Aera is grateful that the fracture in her family didn’t cause any big drama—honestly doesn’t consider it a source of any trauma, and she’s truly glad for how close her relationship with her mother became.

Jax is an only child too... but wasn’t always. On his second date with Aera, telling her about the little brother he had lost to a congenital disease six years ago isn’t exactly something he had planned to do. Why kill the mood on this most beautiful of days? It took him weeks to open up about this topic when he’d started dating Tara. It’s a lifelong fucking sorrow that he carries in the deepest darkest hollow of his heart and there it stays.

Just as the afternoon sun starts to fall and fade, the touch of dusk casting its shade, she notices the sudden dimness in his gaze. The subtle downturn of the smile on his face speaks to her heart before a word he even says.

She tenderly squeezes his hand in hers so closely intertwined. Only the second date and he feels like this girl is honestly reading his motherfucking mind. The squeeze assures him that she’ll listen to whatever he may ever want to share; whenever he's ready to lay his whole heart bare, or any piece of it deep in the hollow she’ll follow him there. Roll in the deep and help him seek the hope and healing that he’s scared he’ll never find.

In silence he tells her he’ll always do the same for her and that’s a fucking promise. Someday Aera Lee will tell him all her troubles and her problems, and he’ll dedicate his whole damn life to finding ways to solve them or to help her rise above them. Someday soon... but just for now as the sun gives way to the moon, Jax sits with her beneath the twilit trees and gives her hand a squeeze and tells her about Thomas. Just how much he’d loved him. Loved him from the start and still loves him with all his broken heart and spends his days haunted and hanging on the ghost of him.

Aera can’t even imagine what he’s been through, but she doesn’t even need to—she can feel it as he lets himself break open in the cradle of her hand now as she holds him, and she’s never felt so close to him.

So close to anyone.

She takes him in just as the hills on the horizon swallow up the setting sun.

“Bad boys don’t cry, you know?” Jax laughs away the lonely tear that rises to his eye, as he relives his grief from all those years ago. The grief he still hasn’t let go. “Had to keep living by that lie. Had to be that guy, like my future as a Son is set in stone although I don’t even know why. There’s just this pressure that the king can never let his weakness show.”

“It isn’t weakness, Jax,” she reassures him as she basks in just how beautiful he looks the more he sheds his mask, the light of who he is filtering brightly through the cracks. Light of a man who wants to be the strongest king he can but isn’t certain how to. Feels so much but isn’t sure if he’s allowed to. Aera wants the prince to know it isn’t weak to feel. To know there’s strength in being real, and it’s the only way to heal. “There’s nothing weak about you.”

He believes it when she says it as they sit upon the grass, their every breath and beat so seamlessly in tune. Words rise to his mind in this moment though his lips won’t let them pass—it’s way too soon, to feel shit like this yet his young heart is so stupidly proud to—That isn’t true. It makes me feel weak to imagine ever living life without you.

Jax won’t say anything so intense out loud. Not yet at least. Although his stupid heart is proud, he tells himself not to fall too deep, sowing seeds too sweet to reap. There’s no way that such beauty could be fated for a beast.

Aera is even lovelier inside than out. He’d always thought so but as of tonight he knows without a doubt. She’s not just book-smart; everything that makes her brilliant is rooted in her heart, a heart that seeks to understand everything to its deepest core and dig in more which is why she can see the strength in him as he’s breaking apart. And that’s what he’s head over heels crazy about. Not what she sees in him because that’s not what matters—what he sees and feels when he’s looking at her. Renders the world so fucking real yet at the same time such a fucking work of art.

He shakes the feeling in his bones that something so good has to be doomed from the start.

Though it’s a feeling he can’t fight, he strives to ride away from it when they’re out on the road later that night. Drives ever faster as he chases down his dreams with all his might. The moonlight doesn’t hold a candle to their smiles, as their hearts race past the miles. Any speed feels right when she’s pressed to his back holding him tight.

He feels so free when she’s behind him on his bike. They stop for dinner at a restaurant she suggests—an authentic Korean place she really likes—and Jax officially decides their barbecue has got to be the fucking best. He wolfs down all the sizzling strips of beef and big stone bowls of spicy rice while Aera laughs and fondly wipes splatters of sauce off the black leather of his vest.

The restaurant closes at eleven, but they barely even notice time is passing as they share a massive serving of its signature shaved ice slathered with sweet syrupy fruits that taste like fresh slices of heaven. When he drives her home she’s tempted to invite him in as they hop off his Harley... but she catches herself wondering if maybe it’s too early. Knows she shouldn’t have to follow any set of rules about this kind of thing and yet she’s never kissed or even dated anyone before, so she feels suddenly unsure. Especially since Jax’s kiss tally is probably like a hundred and seven. Or even more...

He’s also well aware of this and plans to see his doctor—get some tests done, for good measure—just one of the reasons he hasn’t yet touched her. It’s not sexy or romantic to be thinking of such things but in more ways than one, he wants a real clean slate now that he’s met her. Thankfully he’s never noticed any symptoms, but he’ll count himself lucky if all his awful habits haven’t yet caught up with him. It’s not like Aera asked or ever hinted this is something he should do; he just wants to, and once he does he’s sure he’ll feel a whole lot better.

None of this is said aloud yet Aera gets the sense somehow. Not every detail of his thought process but just enough to understand the way he’s feeling now. Reaches to gently scrape a streak of dried up sauce off of his kutte and jokes about how he’d embraced the role of Disney’s cartoon Beast, the way he went about his feast. He’s beauty in this moment though, more beautiful than he himself could ever fucking know, the way his smile beams across his sweet pink lips as starlight streams across the soft gold of his brow.

Seriously too soon to be feeling such things but they’re both unafraid to feel more than fate dares to allow.

Jax walks her to her door and every step is strained and slow. A little pained because he doesn’t want to go. The hurt all fades as soon as he senses that she feels the same way though.

Then all he feels is bliss and he wants this every damn day to follow.

“Can I see you again tomorrow?” And then every day for the rest of my life ‘cause you know I’ll die if you say no?

“It’s today now I guess,” she replies, as the hour has fallen past midnight and all of the stars are aglow. “And I’ll always say yes.” And the rest of our lives?... I hope so.

It’s a promise in silence they make, knowing it might not be theirs to keep. Knowing forces of chaos and violence beyond them might break. They make it all the same, without shame, ‘cause they’re already in way too deep.

Until now they could taste their dreams only in sleep; in these past few nights given how tightly entwined all their dreams just became, now they’re both wide awake. And if these seeds are too sweet to reap... still their young hearts will plant them because that’s a chance they’re both living and dying to take.

In the meantime across town, Jess Dalton breaks down, with hard proof in her hands of the seed that’s been planted in her. Popping pills from her mom’s cabinet hoping that they’ll numb the ache. But they don’t for fuck’s sake. They just cause her to puke up the salad she’d picked at for dinner, wishing she could vomit this fucking mistake, green eyes puffy and red as she fights back the salt threat of tears till her manicured hands start to shake.

All her bottled up anger and agony turn to pure hate... and she has an idea for an outlet as she hops in her drop-top car and drives off from her family’s estate. Her big brainless brother is out late to party with his football teammates—just won a big game so they’re taking the whole night to celebrate. If she goes to meet him and asks for his help with the havoc she wants to create, she knows Bryce Dalton won’t hesitate.

Even with this unwanted weight, she’s still the crown fucking princess of Charming, whose daddy is king, and whose brother is like a big beefy henchman who will help her with literally anything. And it feels fucking great. The sensation of power is such a damn thrill, better than any cure she could get from a pill... and it drowns out the truth in her gut till she can’t feel the seed of it resonate. Feeds the delusion that she can escape from the chaos and violence and hate that have already poisoned her sad fucking fate. ********************

🎵 Song 15 from the FoA playlist: “The Face” by Kings of Leon

New York, New York || 2014

It’s honestly hard to believe this is only their second damn date.

The thought strikes her as she stares at Will sitting there looking so good it’s got to be some kind of crime. There’s a level of closeness and comfort between them that she hasn’t felt in a really long time. Then there’s that chemistry she’d initially tried to fight off though she knew it was too fucking late; when she’s with him she goes into some kind of starry-eyed state.

And if this is a sign of how their future dates will continue in such a delicious direction, deepening what already feels like a cosmic connection, she really can’t wait.

It’s insane to be thinking so prematurely far ahead, but it’s almost impossible not to with Ironhead. Drowning deep in his stormy blue gaze, falling into a daze, she can’t help but imagine how mind-blowing that view would be when he’s hovering over her body all spread out beneath him in bed...

If she treads any longer down that train of thought she is bound to go braindead.

She focuses on his drink order instead, hoping that the low light in this dive bar is dim enough that he won’t notice her cheeks flushing red. They’re together alone in Tribeca Frontier—not another soul here—it’s nearly 3:00 A.M. and the place is closed down, so that they can hang out in private after spending a lovely day strolling through Central Park and indulging in the food scene uptown. On their first date just last night she’d educated him about dozens of different obscure pasta shapes so tonight she’d asked him to enlighten her on all the countless varieties of beer.

Their first date could not possibly have gone better: dinner at a cozy Italian restaurant followed by a cheesy romantic movie at a rooftop theater. None of that had been Aera’s idea—all had been spontaneous suggestions from Will as they’d walked through the streets of Manhattan and scoped out the area. Pure coincidence that their first date had been so parallel to the sweet high school fairytale Aera will always remember from her senior year...

Anyway. Now that they’re all alone in the bar that he owns past the end of the day, Will had the bright idea to indulge in a little roleplay—though it’s not in a sexual way. They’re both still fully clothed. Given some of the conversations that had gone down today, he thought this might be fun for them both.

“How’m I doing so far?” Aera tops off the glass in her hand with some random-ass liquor and serves him her sorry attempt at a sidecar.

“Gotta say I’m impressed what a natural at customer service you are,” her date laughs as he takes a big swig and then sets down the glass on the wood of the bar, with a satisfied slam. “I don’t know what the hell this drink is, but it’s fucking delicious. Goddamn.”

Aera echoes his laugh as she takes a taste of her own citrus concoction—one sip and she’s already too buzzed to function. “That cocktail’s as much of a mess as I am...!”

Will theatrically arches his brow, which she already knows means that he is about to say something dumb right fucking now. “Guess this isn’t the kind of bar you thought you’d work when you passed the New York Bar Exam?”

This adorable bastard is too much and he needs to stop it at once. “At it again with your corny puns...”

His slick pink tongue flicks out over his lips and glints lusciously in the dim light. This motherfucker obviously knows that it’s a pussy-soaking sight. “Yeah, they’re almost as bad as my horny ones.”

He isn’t wrong; his dirty pun game is strong. Aera catches her mouth watering as she’s so mesmerized by his tongue. “Bad in a good way though.”

“If you say so.”

He’s so fucking gorgeous and so close that she could lean over the bar and just kiss him right this instant if she could get over her inhibitions. It’s been eighteen years since she’s been in this kind of position, with all of her wildest dreams within reach...

The next words from Will’s mouth come as quite a non sequitur. Clearly the captain has no inhibitions with her. “So uh, how would you feel about sex on the beach?”

Aera crinkles her nose in a grimace, not really a fan of that gritty stuff getting all up in her business. It’s just not her thing but the truth is that any damn manner of sex with him is. “I feel sandy just thinking about it but if that’s your kink—”

“It’s the name of a drink.”

Cue a mortified facepalm. Suddenly feels crazy dumb. “Oh my God I know that one! If you’d just put an ‘a’ in front of it...”

He smirks and quite frankly the sight makes her cum. “That would’ve been no fun. For what it’s worth I fucking love it.”

She bites her lip as Will holds eye contact and doesn’t dare to blink. This time it’s clear he’s not talking about the drink, the way he flashes her a dark devilish wink.

And now she’s so aroused she cannot think.

They carry on with their little roleplaying charade in which Aera’s working as a bartender here. The idea for this game arose out of their conversations about her sudden shift in career: this upcoming week is her last week at her godawful law firm. And in the immediate future her plan is to focus on writing her trilogy, while also helping her mom run LoveLee’s, as she takes some time figuring out what to do in the long term.

Years ago she had worked as a clerk at Lee’s Market but she’s never actually waitressed or anything like that before. So she’d told him on their date today that she’s not really sure whether she’s qualified to take orders and serve customers at her mom’s pastry store.

So just as a half-joke that is what tonight’s practice is for.

Will can hold down a boatload of liquor but knows Aera’s more of a lightweight, and he doesn’t want to go too hard on their second date. So at some point they stop the charade and sit down on a couple of barstools to chat about how they’re both really determined to get their lives straight.

Aera asks what brought him to New York. How he’s liking it here, how he feels about running Tribeca Frontier. Whether he feels like he could make city life work. Honestly shocked the subject had not come up yet but the flow of their conversation during their first two dates has been random as hell. It’s because they’re comfortable enough shooting the shit and being total goofballs, though Will isn’t one to avoid heavy topics and hide behind walls—he can handle those talks just as well—from that deep earnest look that sometimes enters his ocean eyes she can tell.

Yet she hadn’t expected the chat to turn down a more somber direction, when she asked those innocent questions. Had no idea she would be hitting a nerve. Shadows play on his face, in the low moody light of this place, as his lips lose their soft smiling curve.

Will grits his teeth, at first. Is it too soon to share the shit that lies beneath, to let her see him at his worst? Their interactions up till now have been the best, and felt so blessed, and he would hate for her to see that he’s so cursed.

If he were on this date with anyone but her, he would’ve brushed it all away, he’s pretty sure. Would have no clue just what to say. Would stow it for another day. But being with her makes him feel some kind of way.

The words just flow, and somehow he feels so at home letting it go. Like all the shards of grief inside him cutting him to pieces somehow fall in place. “I just wanted a change of pace, you know? My kid brother and I grew up in this small town in Colorado, then we both served. Spent some time in Florida and Benny got into the fighting scene down there and made some enemies and shit went fucking sideways. Never really got a chance to live the life that he deserved. I lost him just over a year ago.”

His sea-blue eyes hold so much sorrow. Chases down the aftertaste of that tragic confession with the water in his glass though he can barely even swallow.

Aera feels all of his pain, clasping his hand to ease the strain. “Will I’m so sorry...”

“You shouldn’t be.” He cracks a broken smile trying to assure her that she has no need to worry, and no reason to feel bad. “You asked a natural question and I just wish that the answer weren’t so sad.”

The little tremor in his voice cuts her right through.

The warmth in her gaze brings him this heart-stopping feeling that just might be the first step toward fucking healing and it feels so fucking new. “It’s been a struggle trying to go on without him. Usually I’m way too broken up to even talk about him, but I guess with you I always want the answer to be true.”

And she can tell it always will be for she sees nothing but honesty as she falls deep into that gaze of blue. Rides out the wave, ‘cause it’s the only thing to do, and finds it’s everything her heart could ever crave. “That’s what I want too. We can talk about him all night if you want to.”

His smile is whole now as he thanks her. He tells her about his brother for a little while longer, till his shattered heart feels just a little stronger. The soft touch of her palm upon his hand comforts and holds him like an anchor.

After some time Will finally feels he’s unloaded enough. Brushes the prick of unwept tears off, as he casually directs the flow of conversation back to lighter stuff. Cracks silly jokes to make her laugh. The utter beauty of the sound fills him with hope about a life and love he thought he’d never have.

Maybe it’s too soon to be thinking that he’s somehow bound to her. That someday soon he’s gonna love her. But it’s just their second date and when he thinks about his future... all he has are thoughts of her.

He doesn’t know yet that she’s feeling the same way. But just the hope of it means more to him than words ever convey.

Just then they both notice the song that starts to play: it’s that distinctive tune by Gotye. The one that played when they first sat down in this bar the other day.

Ironhead is far from shitfaced but he’s just a little buzzed from all the drinks that he had downed, and from the high of this new feeling that he’s found. In retrospect he will immediately realize this is not the thing to say... but as they mutually swoon over how great their first two dates have been, soaking their shared butterflies in, he says it anyway.

“And to think that you were gonna let this all go, just because I look like somebody you used to know...”

... Oh.

That struck a blow. Suddenly Aera’s heart feels hollow. At the same time so damn full, sharply aware of all the memories of past love that have always had such pull—most of the night she’d been so present but she finds herself tugged back in that direction and her split heart has no clue which path to follow.

“He wasn’t just somebody,” she murmurs more to herself than to him as all the purity of her feelings for Will feel fucking muddy, shards of her splintering heart cut up all bloody. He was everything to me. He still is truly. More than you or anyone could ever be.

And you and he share the same face and that is not fucking okay.

She knows she shouldn’t think or feel that way. On some level she doesn’t and it’s thankfully something that she averts the urge to say. She also had a little bit to drink tonight, so maybe that’s the reason she’s not thinking right, can’t keep her high school sweetheart flame at bay.

And as for Will—he sits stone-still. He can’t believe he fucking said it. In the weight of this moment he’s sure he’ll forever regret it. But if there are issues down deep, that prevent her from being with him due to secrets her heart has to keep... maybe he shouldn’t come on so strong when she’s clearly not sure where this whole thing is headed. Maybe it’ll be for the best to just bring a quick end to this little love story. “I get it. I’m sorry.”

“You shouldn’t be,” she tells him woodenly, but it falls on deaf ears. The beating of her broken heart is honestly the only thing he hears.

Maybe the alcohol got her extra emotional but suddenly she finds she’s fighting back a flood of tears, and biting back her greatest fears—the fear of feeling something soul-crushingly fierce, for the first time in all these years, and sowing seeds too sweet to reap. She did it once and Jesus Christ the price was steep.

At first her instinct is to turn and run, as she’s so often done…

But then she looks at him and realizes that isn’t what she wants to fucking do. That there’s no shame in being raw and true. No issue if he sees her shed a tear or two. Will already opened his heart and let her see right fucking through, so she feels safe and free to let him see her too.

Maybe she won’t share all the details just quite yet. Maybe they need to take things slow for just a minute—if they can when they’re already so deep in it. All she knows is that she’s done trying to run from it and fight it.

So she stays. At least for now she fucking stays, trusting a chance at love like this is worth whatever price she ultimately pays.

In the meantime across town a lost soul arrives in New York for the first time in his sorry life. Dead grey eyes and nothing to his name but the shirt on his back and a half-loaded gun and a small pocket knife. Walking the streets, his hefty frame and haggard face spooking off everyone he meets, he asks around for Aera Lee because he’s got something to give her. Has a message to deliver.

Sits and reads the crumpled letter for himself tonight, in an abandoned alleyway beneath a crescent moon’s faint light. It’s all he has left of his precious little sister—he can see her green eyes glimmer in the sad curve of her signature. He holds onto it tight.

What happened to her wasn’t right.

He thinks of all the things he’s done. It’s nights like these that he’s ashamed to be a Dalton.

Checks the bullets in his gun. There are a few although he knows he needs just one. ____________________

I hope you guys are enjoying so far! I’m super grateful for comments so please let me know if you are!! 😊❤️

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fett-djarin · 3 years

Text

Anything

this bitch done YEET

anyway this is Boba Fett x f!Reader! I had this idea kicking around for awhile and shit finally came together and i was able to get it done!

Rating: 18+

Length: 4.1k

Warnings/Tags: SMUT, canon-typical violence (not in the smut), PiV intercourse, unprotected sex, fingering, riding, throne sex come get yalls juice, multiple orgasms, creampie, spanking, slight cockwarming?, pet names, swearing

NSFW BELOW THE CUT!

Boba Fett was an enigma. He intimidated you, intrigued you--but he didn’t scare you. Boba could be violent, occasionally cruel, but only to those who had earned his ire. You had nothing to fear.

You still remember the day he stormed into Jabba’s palace, a wrathful spectre on a mission. You had been afraid you would be caught in the crossfire, an exchange of possession through violence. But then your chains were blasted apart, scum of men dying around you instead of finding your own demise. Instead of fleeing like the other girls, you dove towards a dropped blaster and levelled it at one of the smugglers putting up a fight. This particular one had been a thorn in your side for a long time. You’d be lying if you said you felt no satisfaction watching him fall lifeless from your well-placed blaster bolt.

“Nice shot,” the woman--Fennec, you had come to learn--commented. You had turned in a panic, pointing the blaster in her direction, her own rifle coming up in an instant, aimed squarely at your head.

“Easy, girl,” the Mandalorian--Boba--had said. “We have no interest in fighting you.”

“If you mean to sell me again,” you spat, “it would be easier to kill me now.” Your fingers flexed on the blaster, and you tried to steady your shaking hands. Fennec’s aim hadn’t faltered.

“Stand down, Shand,” Fett directed the sharpshooter, who immediately lowered her weapon. He then addressed you again. “I don’t deal in flesh.�� You slowly dropped your arm. “What’s your name, girl?”

That had been...a few standard months ago, now. Boba ran his syndicate under a tight fist. He had no use for slaves, and had told you you were free, even offered you credits to return home. Some of the others took his offer. You had opted to stay--your birth planet had nothing to offer you, and you did not want to try your luck as a newly freed woman with nothing to your name on Tatooine. You didn’t even have a name, really. You were called something different each time you moved; your birthname was no longer you. That person had died long ago.

“Call me anything,” you had told Boba. “I don’t mind.”

He thought for a minute, and then decided. “Mayen.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of you. The gruff, seemingly serious man had a sense of humor. Mayen--Mando’a for ‘anything.’ His lips quirked in a sly smirk. You liked it. Mayen it was.

“You know Mando’a?” He had asked.

“I’ve picked up things here and there,” you smiled in return.

He later on told you that you could pick your own name, you had no obligation to go by the silly pun he called you. But you had a sense of humor, and actually liked how it sounded. It was a new beginning. You decided you would keep it.

You knew quite a few languages, or bits and pieces you heard over the years. Boba had hired you as a translator, and you accompanied him to meetings with traders, smugglers, and pirates. He didn’t allow any of them to harass you. If they so much as leered in your direction, they tended to lose a few fingers or teeth, either by your hand or his. At Boba’s insistence, you now carried a blaster and a vibroblade. Fennec had been showing you how to properly aim and shoot so you could better protect yourself. He had gifted you the vibroblade as part of your payment.

Yes, Boba Fett was a hard man, but you appreciated his kindness.

His scars added to his imposing figure, and you often found yourself wondering about their origin. What he must have gone through for his skin to be marked so. You also wondered about how stupid some people could be--Mandalorians were legendary warriors, and Boba Fett had some infamy connected to his name, yet fools still picked fights they were destined to lose. His armor impressed you--and the dark stare of the T-visor when he looked your way always had something low and warm stirring in your belly.

It didn’t help that sometimes he would watch while you practiced with your blade. Your heart thundered in your ears the first time he came up behind you, chest to your back, and moved your arms into the correct defensive position. His boot also nudged your stance wider, centering your weight. It’s part of training, you told yourself. You prayed he didn’t notice the heat in your face or the way you refused to look at him. Stars, if you turned your head you could kiss him--

What could you say? He was a handsome man.

Occasionally he offered to spar with you, which was laughable. The first time you had outright refused. “I don’t want to die, thanks,” you said.

“You’re gonna have to face people bigger and stronger than you sometimes, princess,” he said the endearment mockingly.

“Most people aren’t Boba Fett.”

“You’re right about that. Still, come on, show me what you’ve learned.”

Your first fight ended miserably in about three seconds. You gave him a pointed look that said I-told-you-so, and he just shrugged. “Not bad for your first time.” Sparring became regular.

“You’re quicker than me. Use that to your advantage, stay out of my reach. Strike and retreat.”

“Arms up, but keep ‘em close--protect your body.”

“Stagger your stance, distribute your weight. Make it harder for people to knock you down.”

“Move with confidence--this is not the time to falter.”

His words of advice came with each session and stuck. After a few weeks, you could hold your own for a minute against Fett. Then five minutes. Then your sparring was like a coordinated, aggressive dance, blades flashing and deflected, ducking, dodging, weaving, spinning around each other. Once, you had even managed to disarm him, knocking the blade from his hand--you both froze in stunned surprise before Boba recovered and had you pinned to the floor in an instant.

“Very good.” He said from his place atop your legs, pride curling darkly through his voice. “But next time, press the advantage. You freeze, you die.” Now you froze for an entirely different reason--his weight on top of you caused something hot and wanting to smolder in you, his thumb gently stroking the hollow of your throat making your breath hitch. And then he was off you, pulling you back to your feet with ease.

You still couldn’t beat him--you don’t think you would ever be capable of that. The best bounty hunter in the galaxy against you? You much prefer being on his good side.

Boba had just returned from a recent bounty hunt alongside a fellow Mandalorian, having left you and Fennec at the palace. You had been helping her sort through the datalogs and contraband left behind from the previous occupants when he appeared, moving surprisingly silent for such a broad, imposing man.

“Mayen,” he called you, and you looked at him over your shoulder, having been preoccupied cataloguing the contents of the crate in front of you. He was still in his armor, adding to his bulk. The green-painted beskar gave nothing away. “I’ve got a meeting. You’ll be needed. Fennec, I sent you scouting information on the next bounty.”

You nodded, and with your acknowledgment, he turned and strode back towards the throne room. Fennec stood, brushing sand off her pants. “Careful,” Fennec warned. “Keep your blaster close. You never know how these meetings will turn out.” She patted you on the shoulder.

“Got it,” you said, adjusting your tunic so she could see the holster on your hip. It would be the first time she wasn’t there alongside you while Boba arranged deals with crime lords. Sometimes Boba would go in alone, or the both of you would attend. “Trained by the best.”

She cracked a smile at that. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to track down our next target.” She exited the storage room opposite of the way Boba went.

You gathered yourself, then followed after Boba. Entering the throne room was daunting, as the traders he was meeting with were already there and turned to stare. A few of them openly looked you up and down. Your eyes were fixed solely on Boba lounging on the throne, legs spread, seemingly completely at ease and exuding power. You strode past the group of men come to bargain, refusing to look away from the void of Boba's visor that tracked your movement. One of them muttered something as you passed that you couldn't make out, but it had not sounded pleasant. You took your place at Boba's side.

"Boba Fett, the legendary bounty hunter back from the dead," a wiry human man stepped forward, rubbing his hands together. His grin was more of a baring of teeth. "Now that you run this joint, I have a few propositions to consider--"

Since he was speaking Basic, you have to admit, you tuned out. You watched the two Twi’leks that had accompanied him, who kept throwing glances your way, murmuring to themselves. Something about them put you on edge. Of course, you never trusted the people who came to do business with Boba, but you liked this group even less.

You translated for a Rodian bounty hunter when it was his turn to speak. You noticed the Twi'leks and the first human had been getting antsy, shifting from foot to foot and continuing to eye you and Boba. The Twi'leks had never come forward. They spelled trouble. You were tense the entire time, but they reached an agreement and left without trouble.

Boba on the throne was a sight. Your mind wandered, wondering what it would be like to sit on his lap, straddle his strong thighs. You shook your head to clear it as Boba cleared his throat, drawing your attention.

"Go get some rest, little one." And with that, you were dismissed.

You touched yourself thinking of him that night. Imagining it was his fingers instead of yours bringing you to your peak. You bit your fist as you came, muffling your moans and preventing you from calling his name out into the night.

The next day, he had gone out once again. When he returned, you noted his armor had some new scratches, some of the fresh green paint chipped away. He beckoned you forward with a wave, following him to the throne room. He sat with a heavy sigh. You stood before him, waiting for his direction, when he removed his helmet and set it aside. There was a new cut on his cheek, dried blood sticking to his skin.

"You're hurt," you said, stepping forward. Boba grunted noncommittally in response, reaching into a pouch on his belt and pulling out a small container of bacta.

"Use this," his voice was gravelly and he tossed the container to you. He...wanted you to put the bacta on him? Your pulse kicked up. But you would do as he asked.

You unscrewed the lid, swiping your finger through the gel. "What happened?" You asked as you spread it as gently as you could over the cut.

"Those hunters from yesterday," he sighed. "Thought they could catch me unaware out in the dunes. Their last mistake." He chuckled. "This was really the only hit I took," he gestured to the cut along his cheek. You had finished spreading the bacta, but your hand still lingered. You were entranced, being this close to him. Your thumb mindlessly caressed his cheekbone.

"Mayen," he said your name. You met his eyes, the heat in his gaze taking you by surprise. He always had fire and fight in him, but this wasn't like that. It was wanting. Boba grasped your wrist of the hand that still held his face, his other coming up to cup the back of your head.

Then you were kissing him.

You don't know if you leaned down or if he pulled you down or if he leaned up or if it even mattered, all you cared about was his rough lips against yours. When you gasped into it, he took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. Boba's kisses were all consuming, overwhelming--he demanded all of you, and wouldn't accept any less.

He leaned back, bringing you with him so you had no choice but to straddle his lap or be pulled off-balance. You settled along his thighs, sighing as you could now grind your center against his stiffening member. He nipped your bottom lip, breaking away to press kisses down your throat.

“Tell me, sweetheart…” he murmured, worrying a mark into the delicate skin of your neck.

You whined, rolling your hips against his. His hands clamped down like durasteel around your hips, stilling you. “Tell me. We stop if you say so.”

“I want you, Boba,” you gasped, and he rewarded you with another hickey sucked into your neck. He guided your hips back into a slow grind, thrusting up against you. The layers of clothes between you dulled the sensation, but warm waves of pleasure still radiated through you. You cradled his jaw, bringing his lips back to yours, before trailing your palms down his chest. You pawed at his chestplate and robes, making him chuckle.

“Eager, aren’t we?” he teased you lightly. You squeaked when he pinched your ass. “Take this off, princess.” His hands slid up under your tunic, running up and down your sides before caressing your breasts.

You lifted your arms, helping him slide your shirt over your head. Instinctively, your arms came down to cover yourself, but Boba tutted at you. “Don’t get shy on me now, mesh’la. Let me see you.” He murmured in your ear before lightly nipping the lobe, sending shivers down your spine. He encouraged you to put your hands back on his chest. You whined against him, need building in your core as he undid your bindings and continued to guide your hips in a deep grind.

Boba’s fingers crept along the waistband of your pants before diving inside. You moaned as they landed on your clit. “This wet already? Someone’s a needy little thing.” You felt your face heat at his teasing accompanied by his rough fingers circling your clit built you up even more. You hid your face in his shoulder, grinding against his hand for more of that raw pleasure. Boba suddenly pressed hard against your clit in a tight circle, making you cry out loudly and grip his robes for dear life.

“Boba, please,” you whined, lips tracing his throat, his jaw, wherever you could reach. You brought your own hand down to cup him through his pants, running your hand along his bulge. He cursed lightly in your ear as you gently squeezed him.

“Up,” he said, patting your ass. You stood, taking the opportunity to shimmy out of your pants and panties. He lounged back against the throne, taking in your form. You didn’t cover yourself this time. “Good girl. Come here.” You stepped between his spread knees and he took you by the elbow, pulling you down and turning you so your back was pressed to his chest and your legs were spread by his own. His touch returned to your clit, sliding through your slick folds to tease your entrance. You pressed your ass back against his hardness and he groaned.

His arm banded around your waist as he finally slid a finger into your dripping entrance. You gasped, head falling back to rest on his shoulder. When he introduced a second one, you began to squirm. The stretch was so good as his fingers slid within you, curling and pressing into that perfect spot that sent you soaring. You were practically riding his hand, your hips circling as his fingers moved faster and faster.

“Oh,” you gasped as he added a third, legs trembling. Your hand shot to his where it was locked around your middle, holding you against him, while your other curled up and back, turning his head so you could kiss him. Boba found that spot in you that made you clench tight around him and zeroed in with deadly precision. You felt him grin smugly against your lips as your breathing stuttered. “Boba!”

“Look at you, so desperate for my fingers. Squeezin’ me so tight, sweetheart, can’t wait to feel you around my cock.”

You found yourself teetering at the edge of release. You turned your head, burying your nose in Boba’s neck. “Please, Boba, g’nna cum, please--” you gasped out. It was a good thing he held you to him, else you would have been bucking off his lap.

“Cum on my fingers, cyar’ika.”

Your mouth opened in a silent moan as you tipped over the edge of orgasm, cumming hard around Boba’s fingers. Your cunt flooded with wetness, the lewd sound of his fingers thrusting into you becoming even wetter. If he hadn’t been holding you to his chest you would have doubled over with the devastating pulses of pleasure rocking through you from your center. He continued working you through it until you whined, pushing at his hand that still moved between your thighs, need building up in you again.

Boba brought his fingers up to his mouth and you moaned at the sight of him sucking and licking them clean of your arousal. “Taste so sweet,” he said. “Open.” You opened your mouth, and he slid his fingers inside. Obediently, you sucked on them, swirling your tongue around his fingers like you would his cock. Boba groaned. "Dirty girl."

He withdrew his fingers from your mouth and you begged. "Want your cock, please, Boba--please fuck me, please--"

"Hush, needy pet. You'll get what you want." He bit your neck, the sharp pinpricks fading into a warm buzz that made you squirm, wiggling your hips on his lap. Boba reached down between you two and shifted himself out of his robes, sliding his cock against your soaked folds. You looked down and Maker, he was thick. You were suddenly glad he made you take three fingers--you hoped you would be able to take his cock.

He rutted against you, his cock sliding through your folds and pulling breathless little gasps from you each time his head nudged your clit. Each slick drag of him against your lips coated his cock in your wetness. Boba evidently grew tired of teasing you, because he urged you up and took hold of the base of his cock, guiding it to your dripping entrance. You moaned at the feeling of his thick tip splitting you open, sinking down the first inch.

Boba's hand came around to rub little circles on your clit, making you jerk against him, his other hand caging you in by your hip. Slowly, he encouraged you to sit back on his lap, the thick drag and push of his cock working inch-by-inch deeper into you. Stars, you felt him in your fucking guts. Your thighs trembled, and when your ass touched his lap you nearly sobbed from how full you felt.

"Look at that," he murmured into your hair. "Takin' me so well, princess. Feels fucking good, doesn't it?" You clenched around him at his words, making him choke off a moan. He rubbed your clit a tick faster just to feel you spasm around him again and he laughed at your high gasp of pleasure.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, it was too good--that ache, the raw sparks shooting down your legs and up your spine. Shifting the slightest bit pushed him right up something devastating inside you and you couldn't stop the wrecked moan that tore from your throat. Boba gave an experimental thrust and you nearly shrieked and lurched off of him, if he hadn't grabbed a hold of your hips and held you on his lap. You babbled senselessly, too overwhelmed as every ridge of his cock pressed your walls just right. "B-Boba, Boba, move, please--"

His big hand slapped your inner thigh and this time you did wail, the hot sting fading into a pleasant, buzzing warmth. His fingers dug in to the soft flesh hard enough that you knew there would be bruises in the shape of his fingers come morning. Then he lifted you slightly off him, cock sliding only a few inches out, before pulling you down in time with a thrust upwards, burying himself in you with a deep grind. You let out a choked moan, stars bursting behind your eyelids.

"Ride," he demanded. Your breath hitched as you scrambled for purchase, hands going to his strong thighs for support. It was sort of an awkward position, your feet barely touching the floor, requiring you to go on your tiptoes to pull a few inches off his cock. Boba's thick fingers cupped your pussy in a V shape, so every time you rose and fell they rolled against your clit. You couldn't tell if you wanted to push your hips back away or forward for more stimulation.

He slapped your other thigh this time, rubbing to soothe the sting, encouraging you to bounce on his cock faster. Your breath was coming in high, moaning pants as each drop of your hips buried him deep inside you, reaching places you never had and lighting up your nerves like a star gone supernova. Paired with his touch teasing your clit with every thrust, you weren't going to last long.

Boba's hands on your hips guided you faster, rougher--each downstroke hitting deep and holding you there for a second just to feel how full, how stuffed your pussy was of him. His thrusts up as you dropped down allowed his cock to hit your g-spot dead on, over and over. You felt yourself rhythmically clenching around him, heard his groans as your cunt strangled his cock, and you were so close to cumming again. The feeling coiled up at the base of your spine, the pleasure winding tighter and higher and ready to burst.

And then--then Boba hooked his hands under your knees, pulling your legs up so all your weight rested on where he was buried in you, and he slipped another inch further inside. You couldn't stop the sob of pleasure as he held you like this, open for him to take, and he set a punishing pace. The dull slap of skin-on-skin paired with the wet gush of your arousal around him, dripping down his balls and onto the throne, made your head tip back onto his shoulder and wrenched moan after moan out of you.

You were talking, babbling nonsense--begging, pleading for him to make you cum again. Boba tilted his hips just right and you keened as it pushed his cock right against the soft spot along your walls. Each thrust shoved you closer to the edge right until that coil inside you snapped. Your legs shook and your pussy clamped down so hard around Boba's cock that it stunted him to short, shallow thrusts as you rode it out. You distantly heard him groaning, praising you, telling you good girl, good fuckin' girl--you were spasming around him, each jolt of pleasure like a white-hot knife radiating from your core to your toes. Boba kept fucking you through it and you nearly begged him to stop--it was too much, the bite of overstimulation burning your nerves--when he pulled you down, fucking into you as deep as he could and he came with a groan of your name, cock throbbing as his release coated your walls.

Somehow, you ended up turned, face buried in his neck and legs wrapped around his waist as you trembled and caught your breath. His hands trailed up and down your spine and thighs in soothing motions as you came back down. You sighed and cuddled closer to him, the hard beskar plating cold against your bare skin, but it felt good on your overheated body.

"Made quite a mess on me, sweetheart," he said, deep voice rumbling in his chest under your ear. You just mmm'd and clung closer to him while he chuckled. It was true. Your arousal coated your thighs, dripped down onto the throne, soaked Boba's cock where it was still buried in you. Boba pulled his robe around you and stood, supporting you with his hands under your thighs. "Come on, little one, let's go to bed." You closed your eyes as he made his way out of the throne room and through the palace. He didn't drop you off in your bedroom, instead taking you to his and laying you in the spacious bed before stripping off his armor and joining you.

#boba fett x reader #boba x reader #star wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction #star wars #fanfic #fanfiction #the mandalorian #reader insert #no y/n #boba fett x you #boba x you #my writing

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talkingharrystyles · 2 years

Note

If Jason wanted to expose O, he would’ve done that a long ass time ago, I’m sure that man has all the stuff that the media needs in order for ass to never be hired in Hollywood ever again. But no, he didn’t do ANYTHING and it’s been over a year, a whole year and a half of her using her children as decoys to draw more attention to herself and to create a family narrative between her and Harry. Jason stayed silent in all of this, he continued to work his ass off and take care of his children all at the same time. While ms.girlboss director queen was living it up all over europe with her ‘man’. If those files were handed to her during a public setting, it means that Olivia was AVOIDING them, it means that she was HIDING her whereabouts, sounds absurd considering she calls paps on her ass all the time. But that’s what she did, she avoided a matter about her kids, simply because she couldn’t be fucked about issues regarding them, because she was too busy trying to paint herself as the supportive girlfriend by following Harry’s ass all over the globe. This woman is a NIGHTMARE, do you know why no one reposted her ‘long-awaited’ DWD pic? BECAUSE NO ONE LIKES HER. Because she wasted everyones time on a movie that’s going to flop and disregarded everyone’s hardwork by praising Harry only, considering that Harry’s the only thing in her life that’s making her money. Don’t blame Jason, if you do, then that means you’re one of those 13 year old Harries who don’t even know what a custody battle is and how wrong it is to avoid that sort of thing. We need to expose this woman, we need to drag her ass and make sure she knows better than to use 2 kids to clear her name. I hope Jason saves them from her, she doesn’t deserve those kids, they look like such angels and I just can’t fathom how she can’t even take responsibility, like bitch YOU GAVE BIRTH TO THEM. Anyways, I’m so mad rn, I hate her even more, didn’t know that was possible but now, I’m raging and I hope after the release of this forgodsaken movie, we’ll never have to see her again.

I truly hope Jason gets the kids, they need him! And yeah I agree, I didn’t think I could hate her anymore than I do

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sidespart · 3 years

Text

The Fall of King Romulus Part 6

Summary: Twin Princes Remus and Romulus are cursed at birth with Honesty and Obedience. When Romulus, who cannot disobey any order, is told to kill his brother the next time he lays eyes on him, he changes his name to Roman and runs away. Roman joins up with a misfit group of adventures and plans to never return to his homeland. But the fae have other plans for him...

Warnings (for whole fic not necessarily individual chapters): Violence, mind whammying/memory altering, curse of obedience related consent issues, references to sex, references to war related injuries/PTSD, references to child abuse/neglect (YMMV on that one but just in case), antagonstic-but-not-exactly villian!Janus, Extremly-moraly-dubious-but-not-exacty-unsympathetic-Remus

EXTRA WARNINGS - this chapter is pretty much unrelenting whump and the violence and consent issues (past) tags strongly apply. I have put more detailed (spoiler heavy) warnings at the bottom so if you’re particularly sensitive to that stuff and want to scroll down to check before you read you can do so.

Feedback appreciated.

NOW ON AO3 :D

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

In a tavern just outside of Leovan the crowd roars another! And Roman laughs and gamely starts to play another jig. He’s been playing for hours and he drinks in the attention happily, even as the cheers of the crowd become a ringing in his ears. The night is long and his throat is raw and his stomach empty and it’s harder and harder to keep his eyes focused, but his hands are steady on the strings. He sways in place, sweat dripping into his eyes, but it doesn’t matter- the crowd adore him. They sing and dance and laugh along, and after each set they call another, another, another until the room is spinning and his throat is bleeding and the audience’s laughter had turned cruel and high and lilting and-

Roman woke with a gasp and immediately regretted it.

The underground room was still pitch black, the humidity still cloying. At some point during his fitful sleep he had slumped to the floor, Lucius’ ill-attempt at binding having come loose enough to allow him to slide his arms down the length of the pipe. He was awkwardly sprawled at the base with his wrists still pinned above his head and his legs twisted underneath him. He tugged experimentally at his binding and got a sharp spike of pain down his shoulders and spine for his trouble. Whilst he had wasted time sleeping, the silk had become sodden from the moisture of the room and shrunk tight against his wrists, making even Lucius’ knotwork impossible to pull apart.

Not that it would have made much difference if he could get it loose.

Stay here until I come back with your transport.

Grunting with pain, he managed to untangle his legs out from under him and sit up. He pushed himself up on his knees as best he could, trying to relieve some of the pressure on his wrists, but gave it up quickly as the pain lacing down his shoulders intensified.

This was bad.

He chewed on his bottom lip, trying to think, but the heat was making it almost impossible. The black of the room kept swirling back in to crowded tavern, the rush of water into the jeers of a crowd…he could feel the raw burn on his throat and his mind scrambled desperately for another song-

Except it hadn’t happened like that. He shook his head furiously, his hair flicking sweat into the room, trying to banish the tavern from his mind. He had already started traveling with the others by the time he sang in Leovan and if he’d tried to perform so late into the night Virgil would have come stomping down the stairs to tell him he was being ridiculous and to go and get some sleep.

Or Patton would have sat up listening, playing bodyguard, until he couldn’t keep his own eyes open and sweetly suggested that the crowd might want to be getting home to their own families.

Or Logan would appear, pocket watch in hand, demanding he finish within a set time frame in order to allow for optimal sleeping hours.

Roman could almost hear the lecture, relief at a chance to escape the crowd mingling with exasperation at the scholars ridged scheduling.

In the dark Roman glanced over to where he thought the door should be.

The only sound was the gentle hiss of water.

He tried pulling at the rope again.

***

“Hey! It’s you!”

The man blocking Roman’s path back to the ballroom was clearly drunk. He stumbled towards Roman, half leaning on the hallway wall for support, a big dopy smile on his face. “I saw you- I saw you back there – wow!”

“Thank you friend.” Roman smiled brightly and took a step backwards, but not quickly enough to prevent the guy from grasping onto his sash.

“You’re so pretty.” The guy breathed, his eyes unfocused but his grip firm, “I saw you lookin’ at me when you were singin’.”

Roman squirmed. He was almost certainly better trained than his admirer, and he had had a lot less ale, but he was also shorter and skinnier. With the man pressed so close in the narrow hallway it was almost impossible to find the leverage he needed to push him off.

And. This was a nice place. And by the quality of the man’s clothing he was an honoured guest not a servant. Roman had been the one to convince his new companions to accompany him to the local lord’s house for the ball, he had wanted to give them to a chance to relax whilst he performed. He didn’t want to get himself, and them, kicked out by causing a scene- not when he was half hoping they would allow him to continue to travel with them even though the job he’d been hired for was done.

“I look at everyone-” he said, smile fixed and polite ”– engaging the audience is actually very important for-“

“Shush.” The man whispered.

Roman shushed. Grinding his teeth in frustration.

His assailant brought one hand up to paw at his face in a clumsy attempt at seduction, thick rings knocking against Romans jaw. His other hand released the bard’s sash to grip his wrist instead.

“Kiss me,” the man breathed, the stink of ale on his breath making Roman gag.

Face burning with mounting frustration and embarrassment, Roman attempted to plant a quick kiss on his cheek, but the man twisted his head at the last moment to meet his lips with his own. Pressing Roman back against the wall with a slobbering assault as he attempted to pry Roman’s lips open with his tongue.

Panic flickered in Roman’s belly and then just as quickly dulled. It was generally easier to let these things run their course.

And then, suddenly, the pressure on his mouth – and wrist and chest - was gone.

Roman blinked open eyes he didn’t remember squeezing shut to see Patton with an expression so furious Roman had to fight the instinct to cower.

“What.” Patton snarled “Do you think you’re doing?”

“I di-didn’t mean to-“ Roman started.

“Well?!” Patton roared and Roman realised he wasn’t speaking to him – but rather the rich man who appeared to be rapidly sobering up in Patton’s grip. The warrior held him by the scuff of his neck, his toes just scraping the floor. When Patton shook him, the plethora of chains around his neck clinked together musically.

“Roman,” Patton asked, his voice still shaking with an anger that made Roman draw his shoulders up instinctively “do you…know this man?”

“Well…no.” Roman glanced at the chains again, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as his heart rate started to return to normal “I think he might be the mayor though Pat, put him down!”

“I don’t care if he’s the King of the elves! Did you want to kiss him?”

“Well no, but – but its fine! These things happen!”

“You call yourself a Prince and this is how you carry on?”

Wait. What?

Roman blinked, feeling strangely hot in the cool hallway.

Patton wasn’t supposed to say that. Patton was supposed to ask what he meant. And Roman would backtrack and feed him some lines about people often feeling entitled to performers time off stage – which was not untrue – and Patton would look at him wide eyed and tell him that would never happen again –

“You’ve been told over and over, to keep yourself to yourself.”

- that Patton would stand guard at every performance from now on if that’s what it took.-

“If you insist on putting yourself into these situations, don’t come crying to me when the inevitable happens.”

-And Roman would be so elated at the implication that they were to keep travelling together that he would almost forget to feel embarrassed at the situation.-

Patton’s lips narrowed into a thin disapproving line, “Don’t be naive. You are far better off alone, Romulus.”

“Dad?” Roman whispered.

“He doesn’t look much like the Prince.”

“Oh, like you’ve seen him.”

“Well he’s meant to be handsome right? This guy’s not winning any contests.”

Roman opened his eyes, squinting against the light. Three men stood around him, illuminated by the glow of an oil lamp. For one wild moment elation flooded through him - his friends had found him after all!

And then their conversation registered and he scowled. Disappointment robbing him of a witty comeback to their insults.

Still. Let them travel almost non-stop for three weeks, spend a night standing out in the middle of a field whilst an old woman sang at herbs, march for five days through a forest - including a detour through he thickets brambles known to man- and then follow that up with an entire day wandering around the city, have two panic attacks and be left to sleep tied up in caller. And then see if they looked their best.

With the gag still in his mouth, Roman’s attempt to covey this sentiment were mercifully muffled.

“I don’t know.” The biggest of the three stepped forward, grabbing a handful of Roman’s hair and yanking his head back painfully, abruptly cutting off his complaints. “I can kinda see it.”

“Be careful Niki,” the one who had first spoken whispered, he was holding the lantern and keeping well back from Roman. “His nibs thinks he’s got devils with him.”

“In here?” Niki cast a glance around at the iron cage of pipework that covered the room. “If he does they’re not coming out.”

“Still.” Lantern-boy whined.

“Well let’s test it.” Niki grinned down and Roman spitefully and released his grip on his hair. In one quick movement he had produced an iron dagger, not unlike Roman’s own, and pressed the flat of it to Roman’s cheek.

Roman stared at him.

“There you see? If was possessed he’d be screaming.” Niki said smugly and pulled his knife back, twisting it slightly as he did so, leaving a shallow cut along Roman’s cheek, making him wince.

“Careful,” lantern-boy said meaningfully “he’s still the Prince’s brother.”

“Oops.” Niki smiled cheerfully down at Roman. “My bad.”

“He needs to drink.” The third man stood far enough back from the lantern that Roman couldn’t see his face, but he saw the way the other two responded to his soft voice, their posture automatically stiffening.

“Here,” lantern-boy stepped forward after a moment, holding out a water skin to Niki who rolled his eyes but reached down to rip the gag from Roman’s mouth.

Roman coughed, swallowing air greedily. His throat was painfully dry, all moisture sucked out by the silk, but he still hesitated when Niki held the skin up to his mouth.

“Listen to me.” He croaked “you-“

“Just drink it.” Niki snapped and Roman surged forward despite himself, swallowing a few precious mouthfuls before the skin was yanked away again.

“You’re from Notaleveale.” he whispered. “Right?”

“Obviously.” Lantern-boy muttered, taking the water skin back from his companion.

“Well then,” he drew himself up as much as he could, ignoring the pain the movement caused “ – as true men of The North I must implore you to assist me. The Marquis has been embroiled in some- some conspiracy of untruths, is perhaps plotting against the very crown itself and-“

“The Marquis de Orenlla couldn’t plot his way out of a paper bag.” Niki snorted contemptuously.

Roman opened and closed his mouth a few times.

“Isn’t he your Lord?” he asked eventually feeling bizarrely offended on the Marquis’ behalf. Niki and lantern-boy were both wearing chest plates embossed with the three peaked mountain range that signified allegiance to Orenlla, the royal kraken of Notaleveale floating above. They were clearly guardsmen brought with Lucius on his journey south.

The third man, who hadn’t spoken since he mentioned Roman needing to drink, wore no identifying uniform.

“It’s not an insult.” Niki shrugged, “personally I prefer an employer too daft to organise a coupe.”

Lantern-boy nodded in agreement, “It’s a, whatcha call it - a positive working environment, innt?”

“…alright.” Roman decided to change tactics. “I’ll double what he’s paying you.” This time both men laughed.

“With what?”

“Well, I. I’m still a Prince I’ll have you know - I have many rich and influential friends who would gladly-“

“Oh really. Where are they then?”

There was an unpleasant pause whilst Roman desperately tried to get his brain to think. He was supposed to be more creative than this!

“You’re no Prince of ours anyhow.” Lantern-boy stepped a bit closer to glare into Roman’s eyes. “Traitor.”

Roman flinched back at the pure look of venom on the young man’s face.

Little fae touched traitor.

“Listen to me. Whatever you’ve heard – it’s not true. My father-“

“Don’t you dare speak his name!” Niki surged froward, pulling Roman up by the neck of his tunic. Their faces were close enough that Roman could feel the spittle from the man’s mouth land on his cheek as he shouted: “After your despicable actions you would dare to-“

“Nicolas. Don’t upset yourself.”

The third man was barely visible to Roman over Niki- Nicholas’- shoulder, but as soon as he spoke the large man stilled, lowering Roman slowly back to the ground.

“Marcus. Some more light if you will.”

Lantern-boy -presumably Marcus– quickly produced a box of long matchsticks, almost tripping over himself in his haste to light more lanterns around the room. By the time he was done the room was brightly lit, the glow from each lamp bouncing off the metal pipes until it filled every corner.

The third man did not look especially Notalevealean, with skin almost as white as Virgil’s and pale white blond hair. He was dressed plainly, with pale grey robes and soft shoes, and carried only a thin walking stick. If he hadn’t spoken, he could have quite easily faded into the background - camouflaged against the dull back drop of pipes.

“Nicholas. Marcus. Go and guard the passages.”

“But we already have a dozen men out there-“

“And I’m sure they’re in need of leadership. Go now.”

The two men glanced at each other. Roman thought for a moment that they would stand their ground, but then Marcus snatched up his original lantern and headed for the door, Niki following after one last reluctant glance back.

“W-wait.” Roman called. “Is my Father alive?”

They disappeared into the gloom of the next room.

Left alone with only the quiet grey man, Roman found himself wishing they’d stayed.

The grey man smiled at him as he shuffled towards the kneeling prince. His smile was an awful thing that did not touch his eyes.

“The young Marquis de Orenlla is a rather silly boy.” He told Roman in his soft papery voice. “Much like yourself.”

Despite himself Roman let out an offended squeak, but the grey man continued unhindered. “He has very little idea how to survive alone, can barely function without his servants.”

Roman caught himself staring at the floor and snapped his gaze back to the grey man’s face. He didn’t want to miss any information he might let slip but looking at him was-

It was difficult.

When he tried to look at the details of his face they seemed to slip away. Was he young or old? What colour were his eyes?

The whole time he had been talking, had his mouth actually moved?

“What are you?” Roman whispered.

The grey man smiled again, Roman shuddered.

“But also like you, he is not wholly stupid. He has started asking some inconvenient questions.”

Within the blink of an eye, the grey man was next to him a knife in his hand. Before Roman had a chance to do more than flinch, he had cut the ties biding his hands, and was back across the room.

Dazed, Roman rubbed his wrists, trying not to wretch.

Up close, the grey man smelt of death.

“Now. Sit there, and listen to me until I finish.”

Romulus whimpered.

“Your father is dead.” The grey man told him bluntly. “You killed him.”

“No.” Romulus- Roman shook his head. Used his newly freed hands to cover his ears. “He was sick.”

“You poisoned him over many weeks.” the grey man whispered. “Disguised it as a common sickness. You tried the same on your brother but he was too strong to succumb.”

Roman lowered his hands. They were pointless anyway- the grey man’s voice seemed to be inside his head.

“That’s not how his strength works!”

“And so instead, you allied yourself with a traitor to the fae court and placed a curse of madness on the crown prince, rendering him unable to rule. You hoped to take over in his place, but luckily your father’s advisors found you out. You were forced to flea with your fae companion.”

Roman stared at him, eyes wide. “That’s insane!”

“That’s the truth.” The grey man insisted. “When The Marquis asks you for the truth, that’s what you’ll say.”

“No.” Roman shook his head. “No, no, no.”

The grey man reached forward, resting his hand gently against Roman’s cheek. Romulus stared up into his eyes.

“Julius?” he whispered.

“In a way.” The grey man’s face seemed to twist. For a single moment, it was Julius’ face that looked disdainful down at him, rendering Romulus mute with terror. And then with another twist to reality it was gone, back to the grey man’s blank visage.

“I’ve had eyes all over looking for you Romulus. I was so sure you must have died in the mountains and yet –“ His fingers tightened on Roman’s face, nails digging cruelly into his skin. “Here you are. Like a little cockroach.”

With a shove he released Roman’s face and walked swiftly to the centre of the room, where the largest pipes rose out of the floor. “Stay on your knees and come here.” he ordered. Face burning, Roman shuffled after him, knees bruising on the stone floor.

“Put your hands here.” He gestured to one of the larger pipes. Even before his hands touched the surface, Roman could feel the heat radiating from it. It was far hotter than the one he had been tied to and although he braced himself he couldn’t hold back a yelp of pain when his hands made contact.

He snatched them back quickly, his palms an alarming shade of red. And without pausing, sprang to his feet, aiming a punch directly at the grey man’s immobile face.

“Stop moving.”

Roman felt his muscles lock, momentum sending him crashing to the ground as the grey man easily sidestepped his swing.

“Don’t move until I tell you too.” The grey man added, leaving Roman frozen on the ground where he landed.

Slowey the grey man stepped around him, crouching down by his head. “Look at me, Romulus.” Roman did so, only moving his eyes to stare at the flickering mirage of the grey man’s face.

Up close, the smell was so bad Roman felt the remains of his pastry threatening to make a reappearance.

“I am going to ask you some questions. You are going to tell me the truth. Nod if you understand.”

Slowly, Roman nodded. The grey man – Julius – whatever it was, had already told him what it wanted him to consider the truth. But even so, ‘tell the truth’ was an easy enough order to get around. Truth being in the eye of the beholder and all.

“And if you don’t, I am going to tell you to hold onto that pipe again, and I am going to tell you to keep holding it until I am satisfied with your answers. Do you understand?”

Roman swallowed. He nodded again.

“Did you kill your father? Tell the truth now.”

“No.” he said quickly and then bit his tongue, cursing. Franticly he looked up at the grey man “You, you said that was a truth for The Marquis, not for everyone I can’t just –“

“Raise your left hand.” the grey man said mildly. “Bring it here.”

Romulus felt tears of frustration and fear spring to his eyes. He was stupid for thinking he had a chance at this. Julius’ tests were never designed for him to pass.

***

Roman wasn’t sure how many hours passed before the grey man seemed satisfied.

Fortunately, he had methods of persuasion beyond just the pipe. When Romans’ left palm had become completely coated in blisters the grey man had handed him walking stick and instructed him to bring it down hard on his own back instead. And then his shoulders. The side of his face. His left palm.

The grey man never touched him himself.

He didn’t have any need to.

Whenever there was a pause between punishments he ordered Roman to stillness. Time which Roman happily spent fantasising, first of smashing the stick down across the grey man’s head, then of pressing his own eyes to the hot pipe.

Even if they took him home – he could not allow himself to lay eyes on Remus. That was the one thing he could not fail on.

“Did you kill your father?” asked the grey man.

“Yes.”

The stress of raising Romulus, of hiding the curse; there was no doubt he’d contributed to his fathers early death. It was true, at least to him.

“Did you curse your brother?”

“Yes.”

When he was a little boy there had been a phase where he tried to put a curse on Remus daily, and Remus him. The kind of curses they dreamed up were for itchy feet and stinky farts, and none of them had worked, but it was still technically true.

“Why?”

“I was jealous of my brother.”

If Roman had only been born a half hour earlier he could have avoided a lifetime of being second best. He could have avoided his curse. Grown up with his Father instead of Julius. Not that he would wish any of that on Remus but. It was natural, surely, to be a little jealous of his brothers freedom.

“Good.”

Julius’ face smiled down at him. He reached out with the grey mans hands to stroke Romulus’ hair, like he sometimes did when he was a child. “You see Romulus, there is always a way to work within the confines of your curse, so long as you are willing to look for it. I taught you that.”

“Where are you?” Romulus whispered.

“I am waiting for you.” he smiled. “I have no sons Romulus, no one to pass the Stewardship to. And we must think about the future of our kingdom. When you are back, we can write a new story.”

“You…you’re ruler?”

Romulus frowned. There was a missing piece here but he couldn’t find it. The heat and pain were making his brain slosh against the inside of his skull. He found himself leaning in to the hand in his hair, even as revulsion rippled through him. “If you’re ruler then where’s –“

“Where’s the serpent?”

Roman blinked. Looking up, he found that Julius was gone again, the grey mans expressionless face staring back at him.

“What?”

“The serpent. Where is he?”

“I don’t – I don’t know what you mean.” Romulus held his injured arm close to his chest, curling over it protectively.

He heard the disappointed sigh and flinched even before the grey man brought his other hand to Romans’ bruised shoulder, squeezing hard.

“Look at me.”

Romulus did, eyes bright.

“I know he has left his prison. I know he was with you at that inn. I sent that stupid boy to get him and he found you.”

“I don’t know what you mean!” Romulus wailed, hating the childish wobble in his voice. “There wasn’t anyone else at the inn.”

“No?”

Julius eyes were peering out of the grey man again, a cruel glint to them. ”You were alone?”

“Yes.” Roman told him. Voice steady.

He’d entered the inn alone. He’d sat in the room alone. Climbed out of the window alone. Anything else was none of Julius’ business.

Before the grey man could speak again, a clatter from the next room made them both jump.

“Hmph. He’s early.” the grey man murmured. “Get back to your place.” He gestured to the pipe Roman had originally been tied to and, haltingly, Roman crawled towards it, sprawling at the base.

“If The Marquis asks, tell him nothing about your injuries.” the grey man added lazily, taking up his position in the centre of the room, fading back into the background.

Roman grunted. It wasn’t a bad plan: his most visible injuries – the burns on his hand which he couldn’t stand to look at – could be explained away as being caused by the very pipe Lucius had tied him to. As usual, nothing could ever be pinned on Julius.

They waited. But neither the Marquis or his men appeared.

The grey man stood across from him, gazing out into the darkness of the next room. Roman wasn’t even worth looking at.

He slumped further against the pipe and tried to focus on breathing. There wasn’t a single place on his body that didn’t hurt, though the worst by far was his hand. He shivered from cold, which, given the heat of the room, couldn’t be a good sign. He let his eyes slip closed. Exhaustion threatening to take him again.

And then he felt a soft pressure on his lap.

“Mrrp.”

Roman opened his eyes. Then he closed them again.

He opened one eye. It was still there.

“Mister Mittens?” he asked, slightly hysterically.

Romulus and Remus had grown up with dogs. He wasn’t sure if cats were supposed to be able to feel smugness, but this once clearly did. It butted it’s head against Roman’s chin with another self-satisfied “Mrrp.”

“What?“ The grey man was staring at the pair of them, looking as confused as his expressionless face could manage. “Where did that thing come from?”

Roman was saved from having to answer by a crossbow bolt. One that came through the open door, burying itself in the grey man’s skull.

Chapter 7

Extra warnings

Consent stuff – Roman relives a memory of being sexually assaulted (he doesn’t necessarily think of it in those terms). A drunk man kisses him and pushes him against a wall. The man tells Roman to ‘kiss me’ without knowing anything about Romans curse. They are interrupted before it goes beyond kissing. (whether anything else would have happened, or whether the man would have stopped if he had known about the curse, is not shown in the text). It is implied that this sort of situation has happened to Roman before, and that it has gone further, but this is not explicit.

Violence stuff – Roman is tortured in this chapter. This includes cutting, burning and beating with a stick. The majority of this is not described in explicit detail but it’s certainly going on. Due to the nature of his curse, most of this takes place due to another character ordering him to hurt himself. Roman briefly contemplates burning his own eyes (for ‘trying to get around my curse’ reasons rather than ‘self harm’ reasons) . Someone also gets shot in the head with a crossbow. Roman also spends most of this chapter dehydrated and suffering from heat stroke .

I’m not totally sure what this falls under but its grim stuff – a character from romans past spends a lot of this chapter tyring to gas light him/ manipulate him into believing a set of false memories. Roman retains his correct memories but gets hurt a lot in the process. Meeting said character causes Roman to dissociate (I think this is the correct term but please correct me if I’m wrong), he continuously switches between his name and his childhood name during the chapter and at some points reacts as if he was a child.

#ts roman #roman sanders #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #creativitwins #sidespart writes

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leighistired · 3 years

Text

Out Loud

A Martin character study AO3 Link

“G’night mum, love you.”

“Make sure you put the trash out, don’t want it stinking up the house.”

At 12 it occurs to Martin, he can’t recall the last time his mother said “I love you” to him. She must have. He knows she loves him, so why can’t he remember her saying it? Was it before dad left? It can’t have been that long ago. He knows if he brings it up she’ll just tell him off for being silly so he just decides to not say it unless she says it first. She doesn’t say it.

“Look how nice our neighbor’s garden is,” she says instead. “If only we could have such a nice garden.”

“The neighbors hire a man-” Martin tries to explain. He had just done law maintenance over the weekend; he would have to bring up memory issues next time they saw a doctor.

“Aren’t you happy with how I provide for you?” She snaps. “Ever since your lousy father left us I have done my best even with my health and all you can talk about is getting a bloody gardener.”

“Sorry, mum,” he says. It’s better not to argue when she gets like this.

“Forget it. Just get me my tea.”

He goes and brews her a cup of Oolong tea. It’s far too bitter for his tastes but it’s all he buys when he does the shopping. Perhaps that was it, instead of saying she loved him she just provided for him.

Martin tells himself that until she gets too sick to work and begins needling him to get a job at 14. Suddenly he’s providing for her on top of school and everything else but that didn’t mean she didn’t love him. She was just sick and the medication she was on made her tired most of the time so it wasn’t like he could expect her to be excited to see him; especially not when he’s the one bringing it to her.

“Is soup the only thing you buy?” She asks one evening when he brings her dinner.

“You didn’t have soup last night,” he reminds her patiently after a long day of school and work.

“Oh, so you think I’m ungrateful? I am your mother! I gave birth to you! You should be happy to take care of me!”

“It would be nice if you acted like a mum for once!” Martin snaps back. He regrets it as soon as he says it and doesn’t wait to hear her response. He leaves the house and sits in the park near his house for a long time and cries. Of course she loves him. It must be so hard on her to be stuck at home all day with no one to talk to and there he went snapping at her. She’s asleep by the time he comes home and neither of them mentions it in the morning.

Martin doesn’t know what he expects when he starts to transition. He hadn’t even called it a transition at first, he just likes how he looks with short hair, baggy clothes, and a sports bra. His mother disagrees. There are days she won’t even look at him and when she does it’s usually even worse.

“You cut your hair again,” she mentions one morning over breakfast. “Just when you were starting to look like a girl.”

“Yup,” Martin replies tight-lipped. He had been thinking it over for a while and he’s slowly coming to terms with the fact that he isn’t a girl. The way she says it hits him sharply. If she was never going to say “I love you” to a daughter, why would she say it to a son? He doesn’t bother coming out to her properly because he can already see the disgust on her face when he gets a proper binder.

When she decides to move into a full-time care facility, it’s almost a relief. He feels foolish for expecting her to say it when she leaves. He feels even more foolish when he says it in goodbye. The receptionist gives him a sympathetic look when she doesn’t say it back but the receptionist probably assumes his mother has memory issues and forgot who he was. She doesn’t. Still, he appreciates the gesture.

Dating is nearly impossible for most of his life. It’s easiest to blame his busy schedule; he doesn’t even have time for friends outside of school. The fact that no one even asks him out isn’t something he wants to think about. After he drops out of school and his mother leaves, dating and friendship don’t get any easier. He can’t let anyone he works with get close enough or they’ll find out his real age and utter lack of qualifications. Online dating is also out of the question for similar reasons. If one of his coworkers saw him with the age 19 in his profile they would either know he wasn’t actually 25 or they would think he was a creep and he didn’t exactly feel comfortable lying about his age to potential dates. Meeting people organically isn’t the worst thing in the world but it’s difficult. He makes a few passing friends at a local trans support group but even then, he can’t get close to anyone without risking someone discovering his falsified CV.

He doesn’t have his first real boyfriend until he’s 23 years old. They meet at a Holloween party thrown by a mutual acquaintance and date for almost five months before Martin ruins it.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Dominick, I love you,” Martin says as he serves dinner.

“Oh, uh, it’s a little fast to say that, don’t you think?” Dominick had stammered awkwardly. Was it? It didn’t seem like it to Martin and even if it was, it was true. He loved Dominick.

“I-I don’t think so,” Martin replies nervously. Some distant part of himself starts to berate him for being so needy.

“It kind of is. Let’s just pretend you never said it and we’ll see how we feel in a few more months, ok?”

“You mean we’ll see how you feel,” Martin says a little bitterly.

“Why can’t you just relax and enjoy the holiday?”

Martin had sighed in resignation and picked at the rest of his plate. They broke up a week later because Dominick felt like they were “looking for different things.”

Martin doesn’t have another serious boyfriend after that. He goes on a few more dates over the years but nothing that lasts longer than five months. Nothing that lasts long enough to say “I love you.” In some deep dark part of him, he wonders if he was ever meant for love. His father hadn’t loved him enough to stay, his mother hadn’t said she loved him in over a decade, and he’s not even sure he was in love with Dominick. He gets crushes, sure, but he just throws himself into his work at the Magnus Institute instead.

Working in the library isn’t bad. He gets along with his coworkers well enough but he can never get close to them. Not close enough to love them as friends or be loved in return.

Then he gets transferred to the Archives.

Jonathan Sims is not the first asshole boss Martin has ever had. He doesn’t understand why Mr. Bouchard sent him down to work in the Archive in the first place and his first impression with his new boss is less than stellar when a dog follows him into the building. It doesn’t help that Jon is good-looking and every once in a while Martin catches glimpses of a version of the Archivist without a stick up his ass. Like when he spends Martin’s ice cream birthday talking about emulsifiers. If only he would be clearer about what he actually wants from Martin. No report or follow-up seems to be good enough, even with the help of Tim and Sasha.

Martin works hard for Jon’s approval. He doesn’t know why he wants the recognition but it’s either this or quit and he really, really can’t quit. So he spends three full days looking for every woman named Angela over fifty in Bexley only to be berated for actually talking to one of them and then he offers to look into a case about spiders that clearly upsets Jon only to get trapped in his flat by a zombie worm woman.

When he finally escapes, he takes a few worm corpses with him and he dumps them on Jon’s desk while he’s in the middle of a statement. Let Jon try and disprove that When he gives his own statement he makes special emphasis on reminding Jon how hard he worked to meet his exacting standards. He refuses to be yelled at for this.

Except Jon believes him. More than believes him, in fact. He offers Martin a place to stay. Of course that would be enough to ignite a crush in Martin.

As soon as they get to document storage Martin sits on the cot and begins to cry with exhaustion. He expects Jon to leave but again he surprises him.

“I-it’s alright, Martin,” he says awkwardly as he pats Martin’s shoulder. “You’ll be safe here and I’m certain Elias will respond promptly to my request for extra security.”

“Thanks,” Martin sniffs. He can’t remember the last time he cried in front of another person.

“Would...would you like me to stay until you fall asleep? If- if you think it will help.”

“Oh, er...no...I’ll be fine, thank you. You should be getting home, anyway. It’s Saturday, Jon.”

Martin blacks out as soon as Jon shuts the door to document storage. When he wakes up he finds his crush on Jon stubbornly still in place.

He can’t help himself after that. He starts taking special care of Jon in hopes of encouraging the kind man he saw that night into emerging. At the very least Jon doesn’t yell at him as much and he even thanks Martin for the tea he brings. It’s then that he notices other things about Jon, like how rattled he gets by certain statements and how he’ll often go an entire day without eating or drinking anything unless someone brings him something. That someone being Martin. He also notices how late Jon leaves, if he leaves at all.

It’s on one such night of Jon still being in his office at 11 o’clock that Martin knocks on Jon’s office door.

“Jon?” He calls gently.

“Hzzmt! Martin?” Jon responds, having been startled awake from dozing at his desk. “You should be asleep.”

“And you should be home.”

“I see your point,” Jon sighs. “I’ll finish up here and head home. Unless you need something?”

“Actually….I-I was thinking,” Martin beings. “Since I sort of kicked you off your cot...D’you want to come back to document storage with me? You know, get some sleep?”

“What?”

“Er...forget I-”

“The cot would be rather cramped with both of us,” Jon warns as he gets up from his desk. “If...if you’re sure you want me to join you.”

“Yeah...I thought you had work to do?”

“It can wait until morning, no use keeping you up longer than necessary.”

Martin only half regrets offering to share a bed with his crush. Jon was right, the only way to fit both of them on the cot is for both of them to sleep on their sides (or for Jon to sleep on top of Martin but even the thought has his face burning) and it’s difficult for him to fall asleep with Jon’s back pressed against his. It’s good to hear Jon fall asleep, though, and as time wears on it’s easier for Martin to goad Jon away from work to sleep a few hours.

The more of himself Jon reveals the harder Martin falls for him. Especially after Jon accuses him of being a ghost during the Prentiss attack. Even with the guilt Martin feels every time he looks at Jon mummified in bandages. That was Martin’s fault. If he had just paid more attention then he wouldn’t have lost Jon and Tim in the tunnels. He does everything he can to try and make up for it; despite Jon becoming more and more closed off by the day. Intellectually, Martin knows that Jon has gotten like that with everyone, but something deep down makes Martin feel like it’s his fault Jon’s gotten so cold. It doesn’t help that Jon seems to have gotten friendly with the policewoman investigating the murder of the previous Archivist. Tim even seems to think they’re having an affair which does wonders for Martin’s self-esteem. Jon wouldn’t be the first straight man Martin has ever had a crush on but Martin was pretty sure Jon wasn’t straight. Again, he wonders if he’s done something wrong to push Jon away.

After Jon stumbles out of his office covered in blood claiming to have had an accident with a bread knife Martin finds all the excuse he needs to regularly drag Jon to the canteen to make sure he eats something. The silences during those lunches are hard. They had eaten together before but now Jon wasn’t talking to him. The most Martin could get out of him were a few one-word answers. He tries not to think about how it reminds him of his mum.

“So,” he tries for the millionth time while Jon picks at his sandwich. “Did I tell you what happened while you were at physical therapy the other day?”

Jon doesn’t say anything but he looks up with a gaze that bores into Martin.

“Uh...A little girl came in alone with a statement, she must’ve only been eight years old,” Martin says. Jon looks at him with an expression that almost seems afraid. “Don’t worry, it recorded fine on digital. She walked right down into the Archive, walked up to my desk, and said ‘Excuse me. My name is Beatrice Walker and I’d like to make a statement about a supernatural occurrence.’ She sounded so grown up and she refused to leave until I had recorded her statement. Turns out her dad was using the library for research and she had just wandered off.”

“What was her statement about?” Jon asks to Martin’s surprise.

“Oh, a hamster with mysteriously changing spots.”

“Ah,” Jon replies thoughtfully. “Not much need for follow-up there, I suppose.”

“Not unless you really need me to track down the shop where her parents picked up the new hamster.”

He catches the briefest of smirks from Jon before the conversation dies again.

After that Jon’s coldness and paranoia comes out in the form of a screaming accusation over letters Jon found in the trash. Martin barely manages to make it to the bathroom before he bursts into tears after coming clean about his CV. Tim thankfully doesn’t check on him while he silently curses his taste in men. Jon doesn’t meet his eye for the next week in what he bitterly hopes is guilt. He does seem slightly more willing to talk with Martin at lunch, though.

Then Jon goes missing. After trying to get Martin and Tim to go home early because Jon was feeling under the weather; he disappears. Not before apparently bludgeoning someone with a pipe and isn’t that exactly what he and Tim need to see as soon as they get back from a two-week kidnapping by a spooky door monster?

With Sasha gone, Jon missing, and Melanie King being suddenly hired by Elias, whatever’s left of Martin’s relationship with Tim deteriorates. More so when Martin becomes the only one in the world to believe Jon could be innocent. It’s probably that that makes the police detective “investigating” Jon so actively hostile toward him. Apparently, people say he and Jon are “close” and that probably only means the lunch thing but he wants to imagine it’s something more. Like people are somehow picking up that Jon likes him back.

When Jon comes back to confront Elias it’s all Martin can think to do to fall back on his tea-making. He ducks into Jon’s office with a piping cup of the overly sweet tea he spent months perfecting to Jon’s taste and finds him with his face buried in his one non-bandaged hand.

“Jon?” He calls as gently as he can while he closes the door behind him. “I brought you some tea.”

It’s when Jon looks up that Martin notices the bloody mess down the front of his shirt.

“You’re hurt. Let me go get the first aid-”

“No!” Jon interrupts frantically. “Just...Could you just stay with me for a moment?”

Martin acquiesces and they sit side by side on the sofa in Jon’s office in silence until Jon starts sniffling into his tea. He offers Jon a hug and Jon all but dives into his chest to cry. It’s the saddest most broken thing Martin has ever heard and it’s all he can do not to pull Jon into his lap and curl around him protectively.

“Martin...I-I...I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “For everything. For Sasha and Prentiss and...and for the way I treated you. You didn’t….no one deserves that.”

“None of that was your fault and I sort of deserved it. I didn’t actually know what I was doing.”

“You didn’t deserve it,” Jon insists before going back to quietly crying into Martin’s jumper. Martin doesn’t respond. He can’t recall the last time someone’s apologized to him. At least not like that. He’d been told off most of his life for not doing things up to people’s standards. A few people over the years had told him he didn’t deserve it but Jon was the first person to apologize. No wonder Martin was falling in love with him.

Damn it.

Cuddling doesn’t become a regular occurrence for them by any means but Jon begins doing more to seek Martin out after that. They eat lunch together more often and Martin stays up late to talk to Jon while he’s abroad. It drives home how deeply buried into Martin’s heart Jon has become. Especially after he comes back after going missing for a month and has the audacity to joke about being moisturized by a clown mannequin for a month.

He wonders if Jon feels the same way. Sometimes Jon will smile shyly at him, and he can almost believe that Jon would be interested in a relationship if the world wasn’t ending. The last time they speak before the Unknowing they’re in document storage.

“Are you ready?” Jon asks as he shifts nervously.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Martin signs. He heard what happened to Melanie. He knows what’s likely to happen to him. Some small part of him is screaming to just tell Jon his feelings like it’s the climax of an action movie.

“Stay safe,” Jon says.

“Come back,” Martin replies. Jon offers him a hug. It’s no movie kiss but it allows Martin to hold Jon as close as possible. Jon himself is hanging off of Martin’s neck and it feels like a final goodbye.

Then Elias confirms what Martin has always suspected deep down. That his mother never loved him or if there was a time when she did, she stopped when his father left. Even after everything. After he spent years taking care of her. After he had to quit school to care for her. All she ever saw was his father. All his transition did was to remind her further of how much he looked like his father’s son. At least it was worth it. To distract Elias so Melanie could find evidence to arrest him.

Then Peter Lukas shows up and reveals that Elias planned to get arrested. Worse than that, he offers Martin a promotion of sorts.

Then they get the news from Yarmouth. Tim’s body is found in a charred heap, Daisy is missing, and Jon is dead in all but brain activity. At least Basira is physically alive.

Martin spends as much time as he can next to Jon. He’s used to loving someone who can’t love him back. Maybe this is all he’s destined for. Love unrequited. He talks to Jon’s dreaming corpse. Tells him about his day, reads him poetry, even a statement, but nothing draws Jon out of his coma.

Then his mother dies. He barely has the emotional strength to mourn her. Instead, he scatters her ashes and mourns his childhood lost to trying impossibly to earn her love.

After the Flesh attacks, Martin makes a decision. He’ll join Lukas. It’ll probably lead to his death but what did that matter? His mother was gone and didn’t care about him anyway. Tim and Sasha were gone. Jon was basically gone. Basira and Melanie were the only people left that he vaguely cared about and by doing this he could at least protect them.

He visits Jon one last time in the hospital. He’s still covered in wires and his eyes still flit around violently behind his lids as Martin sits down next to him and takes his hand.

“Hey Jon,” he says quietly. “I...This is the last time I’m going to see you...Probably ever. I know, I know old dramatic Martin surely he’s exaggerating. I’m not. The Institute is in danger and...I have a way to keep Melanie and Basira a little safer, so I’m doing it. I just came by one last time to say...Jon, I...I love you. Goodbye.”

He gets up and presses a kiss on a part of Jon’s forehead not covered in wires before leaving. It’s alright that he doesn’t say it back. No one ever says it back to Martin.

When Jon wakes up everything becomes that much harder. Suddenly he had a reason to live and the way Jon pursues him makes him almost believe...No, even completing the thought would be dangerous for all of them. Jon trusts him enough not to be constantly badgering and that makes it worse. When Jon is there the Lonely makes Martin resent his presence and when Jon’s gone Martin resents his absence.

The final, most excruciating pain is when Jon comes after him in the Lonely. He’s excepted his fate in the chilling numbness of the Lonely. Maybe that’s why he says it. The certain, inevitable rejection would be numbed utterly. So he says it.

“I really loved you, you know?”

And Jon looks broken. Even after he rips Peter’s statement from him. Even when he reaches for Martin’s face with hands that seem far too warm and makes him See. Knowing Jon loves him isn’t like “knowing” his mother loves him. Instead of a lie born in Martin’s mind to stamp down the fear of rejection, it’s a reality pouring from Jon’s mind mingled with Jon’s fears of rejection.

Jon’s hands still feel too warm compared to the icy chill of the Lonely as he leads Martin out. Still, he refuses to let go all the way through the tunnels, the Institute, talking to Basira, packing at each other’s flats, and on to the train. The way to Daisy’s safe house feels like a blur and when they finally arrive it’s all Martin can do to remember to take off his binder before collapsing into bed with Jon’s warm arms around him.

He wakes to Jon’s quiet crying. The awful, stifled thing that breaks Martin’s heart.

“Jon,” he whispers.

“Martin? Did I wake you? I’m sorry, I’ll-”

“It’s alright, Jon,” he assures as he swaps their positions so Jon is tucked firmly against him. Jon makes another broken noise and Martin can’t stop himself from crying, too.

“I-I’m here, Martin. You aren’t on your own,” Jon soothes and Martin almost has to laugh. They lay crying and comforting each other until they both fall back asleep.

When they wake up properly they take stock of the safe house’s pantry and make a list of things to pick up in the village after breakfast. Martin gives in to the temptation to buy a new notebook to try and write poetry in. They have enough canned food to survive to the next ice age so they pick up perishable items like milk, bread, butter, and eggs. Jon also picks up fresh peaches and a box of Martin’s preferred tea. It’s easy to pretend like they going on a normal shopping trip as they walk up and down the aisles to check things off their list.

They return to the cabin and settle in. Martin sits on the sofa and tries to write out a poem while Jon tries to read a book from Daisy’s personal collection. After a while, Martin beings to feel Jon’s gaze on him.

“Is there something on my face?” He tries casually as he’s met with an expression he’s never been on the receiving end of.

“I was just thinking about how much I love you,” Jon sighs. Martin can’t stop the noise that comes out of him. All his life trying to earn love and Jon just says it while Martin’s thinking of a synonym for ‘yellow.’

“I-I don’t expect you to reciprocate,” Jon says quickly, his soft expression suddenly turning worried.

“But I do.”

“Oh…Oh!”

“Yeah.”

Jon starts giggling and it’s impossible for Martin not to follow suit until happy tears stream down both of their faces.

#the magnus archives #martin blackwood #jonmartin #jonathan sims #I wrote a fic #this was supposed to be posted on valentines day

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lazarettta · 3 years

Text

I’m Not A Witch

Characters ( Cordelia Goode, Misty Day, and Reader)

Word Count 3k

Warnings (Minor drug use 💨)

You don’t have a bad background, in fact your life is pretty cushy but not without its problems namely...you being able to do things with your mind but you have no control. Thankfully, Cordelia and Misty scoop you up before you head down a path of self-destruction. Platonic af but there could be something if you squint I think 🤔

New Orleans was a world different from New York. A world different. You were born and raised in New York—it was your whole life, and you never really thought about a life outside of the city that never slept. Why would you want to leave the city that everyone wanted to be apart of? Well that's what you thought for twenty-three years.

You lived a comfortable life your entire existence, you didn't have to struggle nor were you ever afraid of your future. Your parents always made sure that you were well taken care of, nothing but the best for you and you knew how fortunate you were especially being a foster kid. You were born to Mr and Mrs Hawthorne, a wealthy couple who couldn't have a baby of their own so they went with the next best thing that money could afford—surrogacy.

It had taken your parents months to find the perfect candidate as Mr. Hawthorne, your father, would use his own semen (yikes dad). But that was all that you knew, you had no idea the identity of the woman they hired to carry you for nine months other than she was the nicest young woman your mother has ever met.

It wasn't a topic that could've been avoided as you got older and noticed that your complexion was a few shades more than theirs. But thankfully your parents were always open and honest with you, even at a young age. Of course you had a nanny growing up, both of your parents were lawyers—their time was always stretched far too thin, but you weren't a neglected child nor were you ungrateful and they loved you so much for it.

Which was why you never told them about your newfound skill when you hit your sweet sixteen—everyone thought the candle that nearly melted your entire birthday cake was a fluke incident but you knew that it wasn't. You had felt the heat of the fire as you watched your father set the tip of the match against the wick of the candle. For a brief moment you wondered what would've happened to your cake if it was on fire, you thought it would look pretty badass. You hadn't exactly expected it to actually happen! But it did and thankfully no one was injured just thoroughly freaked out.

Your parents laughed it off, quite nervously, but you never said anything about it to them and they never really brought it up again anyway. Unbeknownst to them, of course they were always at work and the penthouse housekeeper wasn't required twenty-four seven, you were able to fool around with your newfound hobby with relative peace in your room. Well until you nearly set the place on fire twice in the same month, after that you just went to the roof and googled meditation practices on google.

You only ever couldn't control the fire unless you were an emotional wreck. For two years, you kept that secret to yourself and if you didn't have friends before you sure as shit didn't then. No one really liked you anyway, your parents were richer than most of everyone else's and your parents actually gave a damn about you and not just about how you were going to make them look in the future.

They tried to bully you about your height but you weren't a punk, so that was short lived. Students envied you but that was okay. They didn't have anything to offer you, that's what your mom always told you anyway. Besides there was nothing wrong with being short, it just meant you had more to offer. Of course.

When you turned eighteen, you discovered something else about yourself...and you weren't exactly sure what you wanted to call it but you could always tell if someone was lying to you if you listened hard enough.

You weren't sure how it worked but you never took any real notice to it until your ex girlfriend, and your only girlfriend, lied to you and you felt a bit of a...you wouldn't say it was a jolt but your insides felt the same type of tingle when your foot fell asleep or something.

That's how you figured out your first love (high school, right?) was cheating on you...you hadn't dated anyone after that. How could you when all people did was lie?

And the minute they learned that you were a Hawthorne...it was done. You saved yourself the heartache and just focused on the future. You managed to graduate college a year early and you didn't go to jail for arson, yet.

The older you got and the more you learned about how shitty people could be, meditation and yoga stopped working so well for you and you ended up joining a gym. No martial arts or anything like that, you didn't have the time for it, but you hired a trainer and five days a week that’s what kept you grounded.

Presently...

You weren't currently working, well not anymore. Less than a month ago you were a nurse at Mercy hospital as a CRNA. It was a late night already and an unruly patient was brought in for a gunshot wound. Somehow he managed to slip out of his bonds and before anyone could stop him, the bastard had his hands around your throat and you'd...you just fucking panicked and he ending up burning to death from the inside.

No one knew how it happened they couldn't even prove that you had even done anything, but you were fired on the spot anyway...and your parents had to shovel out a good amount of money and blackmail to keep your name from the papers.

You hadn't searched for a job after that, what was the point? Your name may not have been dragged through the papers but you sure as hell weren't gonna be working at any hospital anytime soon. At least...not in Manhattan.

But after what happened...what you did to that man, the cruelty of it? Why would you? You'd been high strung after that and you picked up a habit you ditched after you left college.

It just helped you regulate your emotions better and to think, plus you just liked the way it made you feel. It also helped with the nightmares that would plague you every night, and the scene was always the same. He was always on top of you screaming to a pain too gruesome for words.

Your parents tried therapy but you were stubborn besides your medicine was better than theirs anyway.

Your father didn't know about your newfound hobby but your mom did, and she wasn't going to tell him either. She was just thankful that it wasn't crack or cocaine—she could deal with her daughter turning into a weed connoisseur. But she would not support an unproductive one.

That was exactly why she was on her way back into the city to your penthouse with two guests in tow. Doing her best not to cry in front of these two women who have proven to her that they could not only help you but take care of you in a way that she couldn't.

But she knew when your birthday cake went up in flames...she had been watching you the entire time, and in that moment...every warning and tale that your birth mother told her came to light. But she made a promise to love you like you were her own, because you were, and she'd love every freaky little tic that came with you.

As a mother it was hard for your mom to accept that this wasn’t something that she could do for you. But she was woman enough not to stand in the way of her daughter's success...whatever it was that you chose to do.

You were sitting out on your balcony wearing your black robe with nothing else on except a pair of panties and your Prince tank top that you should've gotten rid of years ago but it was still one of your favorite—holes and all. You'd been blissfully in your own little world for a few hours now with your iPad sitting in your lap with some Stevie Nicks playing in the background over the speakers coming from inside your penthouse.

It was just the right volume that it wasn't too loud but the city noises didn't drown it out either. You'd just polished off your fourth bowl, something grape...whatever, you were just enjoying your time. You went back to drawing, head bopping softly and you were so lost in your own little world you didn't realize that you were alone in your penthouse. There were three different sets of high heels that you missed though you just about jumped out of your skin when your mother came into view via your peripherals.

“Oh!” you smiled bright and wide, eyes a tad bit low, “Hey mom, what are you...um...who are they?” you sat up quickly, unaware that your robe fell open with the movement and your mom nearly facepalmed. You set your tablet aside, doing a double take at the blonde with the curly hair that was lowkey dancing to Fleetwood playing in the background. You looked at your mom, your smile morphing into a confused frown, “Mom?”

“Sweetheart,” your mom soothed back a long strand of dark hair and cleared her throat softly which worried you even more because your mom was never one to be nervous, ever, “This is Cordelia Goode and Misty Day.”

Subconsciously you reached into your robes pocket and pulled out a bright orange stress ball you got from the bodega for a whopping five bucks. (You had to have been high as fuck not to argue that price down but whatever.) You squeezed it softly, licking your dry lips, “Um...hi? Did I do something to you guys too? If I did I'm so sorry, I—”

“No, baby, no,” your mother sat next to you, quickly fixing your robe and your messy hair and Cordelia's brown eyes shot to Misty, who had immediately stopped dancing, “Just...are you hungry? Orange juice maybe?”

“Mrs. Hawthorne?” you looked up at the blonde woman came up behind your mother with a soft smile, “If I may, in my experience it is always better to just rip it off just like a band-aid.”

“Rip what off?” you pulled away from your mom, scooting away and hated seeing that hurt look on her face but there was something going on, you were not that paranoid.

“Honey, this is just a little intervention and—”

Laughing, you scooted away from your mom again, “What? Mom, it’s just pot—”

Your mom waved away your comment with a roll of her eyes, “Honey, I don’t care about the grass—”

“Then what…”

“Zip!”

You quickly shut your mouth when your mom said that and have you that look, it was one you knew quite well growing up. It baffled you how it was still working on you.

Your mom sighed, “It's just for a little while and I'll make sure that this place is well cared for.”

“Wait what?! You're sending me away??”

“(Y/n).” the blonde, Cordelia, pulled your attention from your mom who was crying, Cordelia sat on the edge of your coffee table carefully while Misty continued to hover in the background curiously, but prepared in case you got jumpy, “We just want to help you, okay? We're not here to kidnap you or harm you in any way.”

“I can't be helped,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes even as the tears spilled over, “I—I don't know what you think you know, Miss Goode but...”

“I know quite a bit, (Y/n),” Cordelia held out her hand and suddenly your stash box flew past your head making you flinch but Cordelia caught it just fine and you stared at her wide eyed, “You and I? We aren't so different and at Miss Robichaux's academy for exceptional young ladies...we teach young witches such as yourself how to survive in the modern world.”

“Witches? You think I'm a witch? No way, mom c'mon...the...the stash box trick was cool and all, but witches? Mom! Mom please, you're not buying this are you?” but even as you questioned it, you knew that they were telling the truth and that's what scared you the most. “How do you know they're not trying to use this for your money?”

“We're not, I promise! We don't need your family's money, (Y/n). All we want is to help you.”

“Listen to her, honey, this is for your benefit, okay? And...these women are very nice people, so don't give them trouble, not that you would, right?”

You looked over your mothers shoulder at Misty, the woman offering you a smile and a playful wink.

You exhaled heavily, your eyes sliding back to your mom, “...and you're not getting rid of me right? Because of...what I can do? Or what I've done?”

“No! Absolutely not, it was an accident! If anything it was the faulty bonds they put that monster in! Honestly,” your mother huffed, “your father and I still have half a mind about suing that hospital…”

“But not without having to drag my name through the mud.” You mumbled, sighing heavily.

“I love you, (Y/n), so damn much. Yes, we would’ve gotten millions but you’re worth much more to your father and I, don't you forget that,” Your mom reached over and grabbed your hand, squeezing gently before standing and quickly gathering her Prada bag, “and...don't worry about your father with all of this. I'll break this to him myself but baby...promise me that you will try?”

You bit your bottom lip, nodding slowly and holding her hand tighter almost painfully so before surging up and hugging your bother tight, and even though she was in high heels your slight frame made it easy for her to catch most of your weight. She hugged you back just as fiercely, kissing your forehead twice before letting you go.

“And here—for emergencies and whatever you might need, honey.” your mom pushed her black card into your trembling hands, the weight of it denser than you expected it to be and it made you laugh, of course your mom would shove money at you. It was her love language, you stopped questioning it a very long time ago but you never took advantage of it. “I love you so so much.”

Cordelia watched the entire exchange silently with an ever curious eye, even daring to risk raising an eyebrow when she saw your mom push that unmarked card into your hands before skirting off. Your mom reminded her a bit of her own mother...money was Fiona’s love language as well.

But your mom was much more pleasant, her love for you blossomed like a rose rather than a thorn bush.

You exhaled shakily, hands fidgeting in front of you, “I...what now?”

“Now we get down to business,” Misty smiled at you, stepping into the space your mom once occupied and took your hands in both of her own, “Your mama is resourceful, she tracked us down and everything, but it wasn't like it was all that hard since Delia and I were lookin' for you too.”

“You...you were?” you looked over your shoulder at Cordelia still sitting on your coffee table, “Why?”

“We heard about what happened to the man at the hospital and even though you weren't named, it wasn't that hard to track you down and we happened to cross paths with your mother.”

“Figures...” you nodded, sniffling again and you quickly pulled your hands from Misty when a breeze hit your skin—reminding you how indecent you were among two strangers.

You fixed your robe again and quickly sat down and Misty followed you down, bouncing slightly almost a little too close—your high was completely worn off at this point, “Earlier you said that you were helping wit...people like me live in the modern world? What?”

“Yes, we help witches such as yourself avoid situations like the one you currently experienced.”

You raised an eyebrow at her wording and she smiled at you when you met her eyes. You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest—appearing unbothered even if you were still sniffling, damn. Your mood swings were going to give you whiplash one of these days.

“You don’t really expect me to go around calling myself a witch do you?”

Cordelia’s eyes narrowed a fraction, “What I expect, (Y/n), is for you to actually make an attempt. There will be rules and the sooner you drop the attitude, the easier this will be for all of us—you especially.”

You opened your mouth to argue back but then you quickly shut your mouth, your mom's words bouncing around in your head to stop causing trouble. Along with the promise you made to her.

Misty was sitting still next to you, and though you couldn’t see it—her eyes were darting back and forth between you and Cordelia with a bit of a grin trying to break free.

“Right, and um where is this school of yours again? If I even agree to this at all?”

Cordelia gave you a look that you couldn't really decipher, “Miss Robichaux's academy is in California.”

Your eyes flew back to hers immediately, “I don't wanna go around calling you a liar Miss Goode, I only just met you...but you and I both know that's not true.”

“Ah, so it is true...you do have some form divination.”

She led you right into a trap and you couldn’t even be annoyed by that, Cordelia was proving to be a lot more than she appeared. “Divination? What is that? Is there anything my mom didn't tell you?”

“Well, she didn't tell us ya favorite food.” Misty supplied unhelpfully, attempting to break the building tension with poor humor. And you couldn't hold back your smile, deciding that you liked her a lot.

“You're a walking lie detector, dear. That's quite handy in today's world.”

Misty chuckled before one of her arms came around your shoulders, “Oh yes, and Madison is just gonna love you!”

“Don't worry, you’ll fit right in.” Cordelia chuckled, still sitting directly across from you and there was a bit of a twinkle in her brown eyes, she knew you were going to be trouble and that she would have to keep a close eye on you. But if there was one thing that Cordelia enjoyed, it was a challenge.

I dunno what I’m doing for real lol it’s 1am and I’m in my garage on a tablet 😅��I thought this was fun

#ahs coven #cordelia goode #misty day #cordelia goode x reader #cordelia goode x misty day #sarah paulson #ahs coven imagine #american horror story #lily rabe #ahs cordelia #ahs misty

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soulmate-game · 4 years

Text

Continuation of the story from Day 1, because you guys requested it enough that I started Thinking, lol.

Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020

Day 3: Siblings

—*—*—*—*—*

Dinner. One day after meeting her father for the first time. She had managed to postpone any sort of… socialization and emotional bonding, during their meeting earlier for everyone to choose from Marinette’s initial sketches for them and generally consult some more, by once again steamrolling everyone with Professionalism and Business Marinette.

But no longer. She couldn’t escape. Staring at a giant wooden, elaborate door like it was her pathway to Prison—

“Stop dramatizing everything in your head, Mari,” Adrien fondly scolded, gently rapping the side of her skull with one knuckle. “I got things to do, for your company I might add, so I can’t stay. But, you’ll be fine,” he leaned in, smirking at her and winking as he lowered his voice. “Besides, you’ve been through way worse than a little family reunion, Bugaboo. You’ve faced down way scarier people than the Waynes. You got this,” he encouraged before giving her a solid clap on the shoulder and a chaste kiss on the cheek, walking back towards their sleek but understated dark red car. Rented, of course, for the business trip, but nonetheless very nice.

Adrien had driver’s licenses for just about every major country. Marinette stopped questioning it a while ago.

She waited until he was gone before throwing her hands up. “Scarier people, he says. Like the Bat clan isn’t known for being some of the most intimidating heroes and vigilantes in the spotlight,” she grumbled. When she turned around, it was to the door already being open, and she jumped a bit in surprise. She hadn’t heard anyone answer the door, but sure enough Alfred Pennyworth stood there holding the door with a small smile, with Bruce Wayne and all of Marinette’s siblings gathered behind him. At least this time, nobody had their spouses or children. Every one of them was smirking, some more sharply than others (Damian).

“Would you like to come in, Miss Dupain-Cheng?” Alfred asked, waving his hand to gesture to the fact that there was plenty of room for her to enter. Blushing, she did just that, taking a breath and forcing herself to actually look at the family she had just met instead of down at her glossy navy blue pumps. Jason, the man with the white fringe in his hair. Second Robin, current Red Hood, her mind supplied, spoke up with a grin and his arms crossed over his chest.

“You don’t look so suave anymore, little Queenie,” he teased. Marinette instantly made a face, screwing up her nose.

“No. That nickname is vetoed. One of my friend’s nicknames is Queenie, and not only will she never let me live it down if she finds out someone called me that, but, just no,” Marinette dramatically shivered. “Most of my friends call me Princess nowadays anyway,” she shrugged. “Adrien started it, and it somehow caught on. It’s too much work to protest at this point.”

“You’re not good with crowds,” the soft spoken woman, Cassandra, decided to add. Marinette winced, shifting on her feet even as she followed the group to the dining room.

“Ehhh. I’ve gotten used to dealing with press and stuff, to a certain degree anyway considering my alias. And wearing my Business persona always helps in consultations. But, I’m not…” Marinette bit the inside of her cheek, clearly a little uncomfortable as she looked around. “The best at… actually talking to people outside of my small group of friends.”

Bruce sighed as most of his kids chuckled or snorted at that. Dick, the oldest but second-shortest of the men besides Tim, came over and draped an arm familiarly over Marinette’s shoulders. He still towered over her though, so he had to slouch a bit to do so.

“Ah, that would be the genetics. Let’s hope you stay where you are at instead of getting as bad at communication as B,” he told her cheerfully. She raised an eyebrow at him.

“What about Damian?”

“He’s even worse!”

“Tt,” said teenager tutted, rolling his eyes as they entered the dining room and he was able to come up to Marinette’s other side. “That was mostly how I was raised before I met Father. I have gotten a lot better than I used to be, Grayson.”

Dick gave him a smile, graciously relieving Marinette of the close contact in favor of rustling Damian’s hair despite the fact that the younger Wayne was taller than him already. “Yes, you sure have! But you still need improvement, baby bird.”

Soon enough, everyone managed to get seated around the large dining table. Bruce insisted that Marinette take one of the seats next to him at the head of the table, across from Damian, since this was her first family dinner. Dick sat next to her, Jason across from him, followed by Tim and Duke on Damian’s side of the table. On the other side of Dick sat Cassandra, and then Stephanie. Alfred served everyone before also taking a seat at the table, on the opposite end from Bruce.

And, true to BatFam tradition, everything was a little awkward for the first minute or two. Marinette didn’t know what to say, and nobody quite knew where to begin. Dick would normally start a conversation, but he was trying to glare into Bruce’s head a silent message of “talk to her, damn it.”

Finally seeming to get it, Bruce cleared his throat and turned to Marinette. “So, I wanted to ask. When do you find out about being my daughter?”

Several people around the table closed their eyes in mourning for Bruce’s social skills. Marinette though, just smiled in slight relief at the decision of how to start talking being taken from her.

“Oh. It was in stages, really. When I was ten, we started our unit in school on genetics. I don’t usually care enough about science to do much more than the school requires, but genetics captivated me for some reason. I researched it almost obsessively at home for a while, almost instantly realizing that there had to be a reason that I had blue eyes when none of the rest of my family did. After a week or two, I found my Maman and Papan’s adoption papers in their room,” she blushed, tugging on one end of her bangs, which she had framing her face since she was wearing her hair down that day. “I uh… I’ve always been a little nosy. I never told them that I found the papers, to me it was just the answer I needed. I didn’t think about it at all after that, and my obsession over genetics went away. It wasn’t until I was thirteen that I decided to look into my birth parents,” Marinette sighed, shoving a bite of food in her mouth to buy her time before continuing. Everyone was focused on her, and it was a little unsettling. Every one of them had a sharper gaze than a normal person, and it made her feel like she was made of glass and everyone else could see right through her. “I was going through a lot, back then. I wanted someone to be mad at, I wanted to be able to blame my DNA for the things that had happened.”

“Things?” Bruce interrupted, back straight and eyebrows drawn down. “What things?” Marinette giggled, tilting her head instead of answering and just letting her eyes study him. Bruce Wayne, Batman, the Dark Knight. Original vigilante of Gotham city, one of the founding members of the Justice League. Famous for his secrecy, intimidating presence, and intelligence. Then she switched her gaze, one by one, to everyone else at the table before leaning back and taking a sip of her soda.

“Do you guys know anything about the situation Paris experienced for four years?” She asked, instead of directly answering. It was Tim who frowned, leaning forward to look at her and reply.

“I heard very vague rumors of weird things, but nothing concrete enough to investigate. What happened?”

Marinette hummed, deciding to sum it up for them. “The short version? When I was thirteen, a classmate of mine spontaneously turned into a giant rock monster and destroyed a good portion of the city. Turns out, that was the first of many attacks by our city’s very own supervillain, Hawkmoth. He had a magical artifact that allowed him to take advantage of anyone’s negative emotions to give them powers and brainwash them into being, essentially, temporary villains that he used for his own means. Two heroes showed up out of nowhere, powered by similar magical artifacts, to combat him and free the people he corrupted. Ladybug and Chat Noir, the original Parisian heroes and the leaders of the team that later had to form.”

Jason frowned, along with everyone else at the table. Finally, it was Duke who asked:

“How did we not know about villains in Paris?” To which Marinette just gave him a dangerously wicked smirk that was far too similar to Damian’s for anyone’s comfort.

“Because I do my job,” she told him flatly, sipping from her cup as everyone stared at her in various amounts of shock. “That’s why finding out that my biological father was Batman made so much sense. That’s why I wanted to find out who my birth parents were. I wanted to blame the heroism on genetics. And, it doesn’t look like I was exactly wrong.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Yeah, that was how her first family dinner and subsequent identity reveal went.

Luckily, considering that Bruce had hired MDC for a pretty long job, Marinette was able to finish school online instead of going back to Paris for it. There was no real need anyway, they had defeated Hawkmoth and gotten Adrien emancipated so for now it was calm in Paris. They didn’t need their heroes anymore, for the time being. This meant that Marinette and Adrien, along with a few employees that helped measure and cut fabric and do secretarial duties they needed help with, got to stay in Gotham while Marinette went back and forth to Wayne manor, Wayne Tower, and back to their temporary home.

After about a month, Marinette was comfortable enough with the Waynes that she found herself lounging in the bat cave as she sketched, though she kept raising her eyes to the glass tubes that held old uniforms. Damian was sat across from her, essentially laying out over two chairs while he played some game upside down on his phone. He might usually be a cold brat, even for a sixteen year old, but even he liked to abuse the way furniture should be used and ignore the world via technology.

But he still caught her constantly wandering gaze.

“You don’t like them.”

“They suck!” Marinette immediately agreed, slamming her sketchbook on the metal briefing table. “Your Robin outfit is the only passable one there is! The colors aren’t even the issue, even high fashion designers can appreciate a good color clash moment. But what was Father thinking?! Putting Grayson in that glorified onesie— why are there no pants?! Jason’s at least as a cape that can cocoon his body and prevent anyone from seeing the disaster beneath. I should thank Tim for at least upgrading the suit to having pants, but he still kept the outside-underwear look that I cannot forgive. The attempt at fashion, though, is appreciated. Disappointing, but appreciated.”

“That pretty much sums them all up,” Damian quipped, getting a snort of amusement out of his sister. Maybe that was one thing he had grown to like about her. She didn’t reprimand him for his sense of humor, and usually she even laughed along. The more morbid humor would get a playful shove and a glare, but no real animosity. And she understood him on a different level, too. One he appreciated even more.

“You said, yesterday, that the Cure brings back everyone who dies during a Miraculous-related incident,” Damian spoke up again after a moment, pointedly not looking at her. “Did you ever count?”

Marinette, this being one of the reasons he was quickly growing fond of her, immediately understood. She sighed, closing her notebook. She might have only been two years his elder, but she had had what felt like a lifetime of more experiences than he did, usually in the friendship and social department though. They were roughly equal in their heroism experience, which was weird to think about, but Damian still valued her input. It was different from the rest of the family.

“It was different in Paris than it would be for anyone else. I didn’t keep track of the number of people who died,” she finally answered, taking her hair out of its work bun and running her hands through the midnight black locks. “But I kept track of how often. Since nobody remembered their deaths, I guess I felt it was my responsibility to remember my failures for them. My former best friend, Alya. Over the course of those four years, she died seventeen times. Her boyfriend, Nino, died fourteen. The Mayor died three times. Chloe, my current friend and former bully, died twenty-two times,” she grimaced at Damian’s shocked expression, nodding grimly. “During those first two, maybe two and a half years, she was one of the primary Akuma targets. She was still either an active bully or in the beginning of trying to change for the better, so she caused a lot of negative emotions everywhere she went. Things got better once she matured a bit, though. Anyway, there’s this girl I used to babysit. Manon. She died five times before she was even ten years old,” Marinette shook her head, that look of age and exhaustion that Damian saw in every Wayne and every hero he had ever fought with seeping into her eyes. “My parents, they died thirty-seven times. They were constantly worried about me, and ran into danger on several occasions trying to find and keep me safe. But I could never tell them who I was. I physically could. I had the power to sit them down and say; Hey, I’m Ladybug. Stop running out and getting yourselves killed. But I never did. I valued my identity first. So I usually ended up seeing, in the middle of a fight, one or both of them squished under falling debris. Or drowned. Frozen solid. Burned alive,” she paused, taking a deep breath to steady herself. “So no. I don’t understand what it was like for you, to count bodies as you felled them. But hell, if it doesn’t feel like I should. Logic doesn’t mean much in the face of emotion, especially guilt. I know I didn’t kill the people I care about, but every single one of their deaths weighs on me like I was the one that caused it.”

Damian nodded, and they shared a few moments of peaceful, contemplative silence as they both ruminated on their less than pleasant memories without fear of being yelled at for what those memories contained.

“But, I do have a secret,” she admitted softly, attracting her brother’s emerald-eyed attention again. The normally cheerful woman was much more subdued even than before, sapphire irises self conscious and vulnerable, which was rare. She licked her lips, even more rare considering her love of her light pink lipstick, and moved off her chair so that she was, instead, sitting on the cold stone floor. Without hesitation, Damian joined her.

“Technically, it didn’t happen. It was a timeline that my friend, the one who I gave the snake Miraculous, essentially erased when he reversed time. But I remember it even though I shouldn’t. How could I forget?”

“You took a life,” Damian whispered, grimacing in empathy. “First time?”

“And the second, and the fifth,” she admitted. “Viperion had to try seven times before I stopped repeating it. But it was always the same person, back during our final battle. I killed Gabriel Agreste seven times. But nobody but me and Luca will ever remember.”

Damian and Marinette both knew it wasn’t the same as Damian’s childhood. They both knew that they would likely never fully understand one another’s trauma. Not the nuances of it. But they did understand the important parts, the broad strokes. Despite their vastly different lives, they understood the big parts that shaped one another.

That was why Damian took to her so quickly. If he had been younger and still bratty, naive, and angry at everything, then it would be a different story entirely. But he was matured, more willing to let himself feel sympathy. And that made the difference.

“You never forget the first person,” he remarked.

“No matter the age or timeline,” she agreed. “I saw how hard it was to stop. How sickeningly addictive it can be, but I hate what it makes me more than I like how it feels.”

“... me too,” Damian whispered. “Me too.”

—*—*—*—*—*

“Wooo!” Marinette cheered as she flew through the air, her hands latching onto Dick’s. There was no audience, but there didn’t need to be. Just the two of them, doing a routine that they’ve been working on during the few chances they had for the past several weeks. Marinette had never done trapeze before Dick helped her learn, but her time swinging through Paris streets helped tremendously alongside her general Gymnastics experience.

Marinette and Dick flipped through the air, swinging from bar to bar, Dick occasionally catching and tossing her again. They soared through the air, both curling through two flips before landing on their respective platforms with matching wide smiles. Marinette, chest heaving a bit since she was slightly out of shape (meaning that she wasn’t at all out of shape, only out of practice when it came to swinging through the air for any length of time. There’s a difference). She met Dick on the floor, who proceeded to ruffle her hair happily.

“That was awesome! Looks like you finally got the routine down,” he praised. She laughed, elbowing him.

“I bet I’m better on the balance beam,” she challenged, making Dick grin widely.

“Oh you are on!”

—*—*—*—*—*

“Ya ever died before?” Jason asked, making Marinette chuckle.

“Two-hundred and eighty-seven times.”

“You started as Ladybug at thirteen, right?”

“Yup. No training or mentor for the first year either.”

“Yeah, then that sounds about right. Wanna go break all the traffic laws?”

“Only if we take your bike.”

“Fuckin’ Duh. What else?”

—*—*—*—*—*

“You stalked Adrien?” Tim asked, smirking that insufferable smirk of his. Marinette groaned, flopping back onto the sofa.

“No! I didn’t mean it that way, anyway. I just took a lot of pictures and spied on him.”

“Yup. You’re Bruce’s kid,” he remarked, tapping away at his laptop. Marinette narrowed her eyes.

“You have noooo place to judge, Mister ‘Dick Grayson is the only person alive who can do four somersaults in the air!’ And ‘Yes, I‘ve known that you are batman since I was eight. Look at all these pictures I took when I— what was your terminology again?”

Tim rolled his eyes, but a grin was peeking through. “Yeah, yeah.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Four months later, and Marinette was staring down at all the garment bags she had painstakingly filled. Outfits for every single one of her new family members. It took a while, but they were ready for the Wayne Gala. Adrien slung am arm over her shoulder.

“You’ve outdone yourself again, Princess,” he praised, grinning at the array of coveted outfits they were about to transport. “But one teensy weeny, tiny little thing.”

“What is it, Chaton?”

Adrien grinned. “Do you have a dress for yourself? Bruce invited you, too, didn’t he?”

Marinette’s face drained of color, right as a knock sounded on the door. Adrien, seeing as Marinette was so far into Panic Mode that she could not be reached at the moment, went to open the door. A second later, plastic was all Marinette could see. Blinking, she raised her head.

It was Cass, holding out a pink garment bag with Marinette’s name on it.

“Thought you would forget,” was all the other woman offered as explanation. Marinette, after gaping for a moment, slowly took the bag from her. Cass smirked. “Present from WE.”

Marinette laughed.

“You guys are the best.”

—*—*—*—*—*

@momothefemur @ladybug-182 @starlightshield @trippingovermyfeet @greatcatblaze @sam-i-am-0222 @bluesimani @ruelukas22 @acoolspacegirl

#mlb x dc #ml x dc #maribat #b!dbwm2020 #bio dad bruce wayne #Day Three #platonic Brucinette #Platonic Daminette

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masterweaverx · 3 years

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RWBY Parents from Best to Worst

That’s right, everybody, I’m a-going to rank how terrible these people are to and for their kids! For the sake of covering as many parents as I can, I am defining ‘parent’ as either ‘legal guardian’ or ‘the one that gave birth to you’, and excluding relationships that are explicitly something else. That does mean that we’re going to miss out on some very important people, though, so before we begin, let’s have some Honorable Mentions!

Yang Xiao Long and Winter Schnee: Professional Momsisters

“That’s why big sisters come first, to protect the ones that come after.” I don’t know who said that to these two, if anybody actually did, but it’s a quote that most definitely applies to them. Not only would they take a bullet (or a sword, or a fireball) for their younger siblings, they took the time out to give them affection and training that they needed when their own parents weren’t quite doing the job. If I absolutely had to rank one of them as the better momsister, I’d say Yang, but that’s really only because Yang had less to deal with overall; a depressed single dad not being able to pull himself together just doesn’t stack up with an abusive powermonger, a self-loathing drunkard, and all the institutional bigotry and pressure of Atlas. Plus, you know, Winter went into the military for a bit. Still, pretty good track record considering!

Klein Sieben: Doing the work of seven good dads

Look, there is only one reason Klein wasn’t listed before the momsisters, and that reason is that he is technically the hired help (and could therefore become the fired help). He is, hands down, a better surrogate parent than Yang and Winter, providing guidance and care to all the Schneeblings and very effectively undoing the damage Jacques Gele (HE DOES NOT GET TO BE CALLED SCHNEE!) did to them. And he even helped out Willow! If he was allowed to do more, he would absolutely be My Real Dad of the year.

Qrow Branwen: “The only one that gets to be sad in this house is me!”

Qrow has a lot of flaws. Like, so so many flaws. As Yang said in a noncanon spinoff, he’s cool but not exactly a role model. Thing is, you don’t have to be a role model to be a good parent--you just have to make sure your kids (or nieces in this case) get good advice and the opportunity to grow into the best versions of themselves they can be. And when Qrow’s not beating himself up or drowning his sorrows, he’s actually very good at helping Yang and Ruby. Honestly the only reason he’s not on the actual list is because he’s technically not a parent.

Uncle Copper: Adopting a blind kid automatically makes you cool

So here we have a character that appeared in a single flashback in the novels, but from what we do know he was pretty likely to be a good guy. Like, raising a blind kid is hard enough; raising a blind kid in a desert after their actual parents got nommed by sand is so, so much more difficult. And yet, this guy said ‘If nobody else is going to adopt this kid I will!’ and by all measures he was a very caring and loving guy. Also, shout-out to the tribe, who took Fox in after Copper got killed by some maniac (and also killed said maniac). Fox has had a rough life, but it’s been filled with supportive people. Not everyone can say that.

Starr Sanzang: She put up with Sun

Sure, she’s only had one scene in one novel, but Starr showed patience and caring and... probably did a lot to make sure Sun stays as aggressively cheery and patient as he is. Plus she’s got a dojo in Vacuo now... okay, I’ll be honest, I don’t know nearly enough about her to really assess her. Still, as far as cousins go, Sun Wukong could do a lot worse. And there are the implications of their motifs to factor in...

Rhodes: If you’d done even just a little bit more--!

So, reasonably, what would you do when you see a little girl enslaved with a shock collar? Would you (A) get the girl out of there, (B) arrest the woman doing it, (C) try to get the girl therapy, or (D) all of the above? If you picked (E) secretly train the girl in swordplay so she can join a huntsman academy when she comes of age, then congratulations! You’ve given her hope! Good for you! And what if she snaps after five years of literal torture, kills her abuser, and then turns to you for comfort and/or approval? Welp, obviously she’s an irredeemable criminal and you have to bring her in, crushing all the faith she had in you and herself.

Seriously Rhodes, dropped the ball hard on that one. I’m only mentioning you because you had such a serious impact on Cinder’s development.

Brother Gods: Creating and destroying entire species

Like, okay. Look. These are the two that made humanity, so an argument could be made that they’re humanity’s parents. But, by the strict and arbitrary rules I have selected, they aren’t parents. And even if they were, they would be just the worst sort of parents possible. Darkbro is bad enough, what with viewing only strength as valuable and creating the Grimm and, you know, annihilating humanity that one time, but he’s at least honest and honorable. Not like the cryptic Lightbro, who doesn’t bother making sure people understand him, who doesn’t even keep his own promises to his brother... I get that they’re basically overpowered children. Yeah, they are. Still... kinda terrible.

So, now that that’s all done, let’s get to the actual list! After the break, so you don’t get stuck scrolling a lot. RWBY parents, from best to worst, are as follows:

23. Saphron and Terra Cotta-Arc: Two moms are better than none!

If I’m rating all the parents, and I am, then I have to acknowledge their flaws. And... these two don’t have any! Okay, fine, they used Adrian in a criminal scheme that one time (and that was literally just asking him to cry on command) and maybe Terra’s overworked and, to be fair, parenting a young kid is a lot different than parenting a teenager. But not only did they support their kid, they helped out all the kids that needed to room with them for a while! Saphron may also qualify as a momsister, depending on how well the Arcs managed their massive-numbered horde of kids. Look, the point is: Excellent parents. Bam.

22. Yatsuhashi's Parents: Their slipups weren’t their fault

When your kid can wipe your memories and you don’t know about it, you’re bound to get a few mistakes down the line. Luckily for everyone, after the whole incident with Hiyoko Yatsu came clean, and his parents made absolutely sure that he understood (A) that having such an ability was a big responsibility and (B) that even though he really screwed up he was NOT evil. Given the man that Yatsuhashi is now, I’m pretty confident in calling them great parents--even if they only appeared in a book flashback.

21. Coco's Dad: He exists!

That’s... honestly all I really know about him. He’s mentioned once in the books, and Coco has a few brothers. I’m kind of just assuming he’s a good parent from that, even if he didn’t figure out how to help Coco with her claustrophobia. So... yeah, shrug, Coco’s got a dad.

20: Ghira and Kali Belladonna: Actually marvelous people

Loving. Caring. Mentoring, protective. You may be asking why these two aren’t lower on the list, given that they are absolutely great for Blake, and I’ll have to admit that they only really made one slipup--letting Adam talk with Blake.

And okay, look. The thing about people like Adam is that they don’t start out showing their true colors. It’s always a slow, gentle broil. Blake was young and stupid, Adam was cute and edgy, and these parents want their daughter to be happy. So not twigging on what Adam really was--or at least not being able to properly convince Blake--that’s entirely understandable. And they did instill her with a strong enough moral code to leave when enough was enough, and they absolutely welcomed her back with open arms. Frankly, if the lower-listing parents didn’t exist, I would happily say they are the best parents in the show.

19. Pietro Polendina: He took Penny’s death flags

When you carve out part of your literal soul to bring your girl back from the dead, you get MAJOR parenting props. And even beyond that, Pietro is an absolutely caring and supportive father to everyone’s favorite bundle of sunshine. Even when she’s put in the rough position she was in, Pietro did his best to help her out. His one big flaw, though, is being overprotective and a bit presumptive. He does want Penny to live her best life, but he also can be just a touch too quick to say he knows what’s best for her. To his credit, when he’s called out on it, he does mend his ways. And he’s at least better then the GENERAL...

18. Salem and Ozma: Good parents, surprisingly!

Sure, Salem decided that world conquest was a good idea and wanted to put down anybody that wasn’t directly from her bloodline. Sure, she psychologically manipulated her husband when he had doubts. And, being fair, it’s highly likely that her four daughters were killed in the crossfire of her and Ozma’s little tuff. But! That was likely an accident, she’s been shown to still clearly mourn their passing, and before that point she absolutely loved and adored the girls. Ozma gets points for being a generally good person who fell in love with her before she became unstable and, honestly, was just trying to help his girls escape... and hey, he blames himself for their deaths. As does Salem.

Just because they’re kind of directly responsible for a LOT of Remnant’s woes doesn’t mean they aren’t good parents!

17. Will and Meg Scarlatina: Estranged but loving...

Yes, I know Rooster Teeth hasn’t officially confirmed that Bill is Will. I still believe though! Also it makes for a great picture, in any case.

Look, you can be the best and most loving parents ever--and from what we saw in the novels Will was definitely loving--but if you split up, your kid is going to get a little stressed. And hey, it’s not like these two were terrible people! Velvet’s just got a lot going on because of things entirely out of her control. Parents are people too, but sometimes the stress of one situation will leak out into another. Just... give people time to adapt.

16. Nicholas Schnee: The man, the legend, the titan!

Nicholas Schnee is the rockstar success story of Remnant. Some guy from Mantle put in all the work to make the SDC, and honestly from what little we know about him he was probably a great guy! But if we’re registering parental goodness, well... he wasn’t quite smart enough to warn Willow away from abusive gold diggers, and he’s not present when the story starts. So, yeah, even if he was a good parent otherwise--and I think he would be--he kinda... didn’t put in the work to prevent Willow breaking later. Still. Not deliberately terrible!

15. Li and An Ren: Don’t die in front of your kids, folks!

Seriously, it traumatizes them, especially if there’s a Grimm assault going on at the same time. Oh, double-especially if you reassure them that everything will be fine literally the second before the roof collapses on your head. And... well, okay, you couldn’t help your son and some random girl being the only survivors...

In all seriousness, that whole situation was absolutely out of their control. And before their deaths they were shown to be loving, wise, giving good advice to Lie Ren and helping him understand what the right thing to do was. Honestly, if they hadn’t died in front of him he’d be a lot better, mentally speaking. His trauma is not their fault. Plus Li went out distracting the big Grimm so Lie could run. No greater love hath man, indeed.

14. Summer Rose: Loving mother, ticking trauma bomb

When she was around, Summer Rose was probably the best mom Yang and Ruby could ask for. Sure, everyone could be exaggerating a little on how great a person she was--fond memories and grief can do that--but even taking that into account, she was probably a great and wonderful woman to be raised by. And hey, it turns out the reason she vanished was to go confront basically the Devil Herself so her kids wouldn’t have to live in a world where she existed! I can totally get the logic behind that.

And to be fair, “I’m going to do this on my own so nobody else suffers” is a pretty common character flaw among the RWBY cast. There are entire arcs where each character learns to overcome it. Still, wandering off on your lonesome without telling anyone was not the smartest move, Summer. Especially if you expected to die--which, you know, Devil Herself, high probability. And you know, if you had died, that would be bad enough, but now Ruby’s practically certain to have to fight your grimmified self. At least she figured out what happened to you before Salem decided to hammer in the trauma button, so she’ll be a little more ready, but... seriously.

13. The Arc Parents: Look, you try juggling eight kids!

To be fair, neither Arc parent has appeared on screen, but we can derive some of their traits from their kids. Jaune’s father said women like confident men. Jaune’s mother said strangers are friends you haven’t met yet. Jaune’s sister moved out of the house and (it’s implied) was happier for it. Jaune himself took his family’s ancestral weapon and ran off to Beacon to become a hero without any training whatsoever....

I get the impression that these two are not horrible parents, but they aren’t really stellar ones either. They slip up, don’t understand their children, give some really bad advice (as well as really good advice), and... look, it’s kind of middle of the road here. The Arcs could be wonderful people that just weren’t ready for the complexities of raising eight kids. I come from a big family myself, I know it can be stressful. And their kids turned out well anyway, so...

12. The Mother of Pyrrha Nikos: You taught your girl too well

Hero complexes are funny things. And Pyrrha Nikos... in retrospect, she was really hiding a lot of insecurities under that facade. Laying it all at this woman’s feet is unfair, I’ll admit, a lot of that came from being The Mistral Champion. But... with stories and fairy tales of heroes, it’s not hard to imagine a genuinely loving mother making sure her daughter knew right from wrong, always knew to act with mercy and protect the weak, and made her hardline into being a hero at the cost of her own... sense of self. It wouldn’t even be something either of them noticed, really. Good people can make bad choices sometimes.

11: Ilia's Parents: Oh god, can good people make bad choices...

So the idea of getting Ilia up to Atlas for a better life, that rocks (if you assume the propaganda to be true). And I’m certain her parents absolutely did what they did out of love. But what they did, you see, was tell Ilia to hide a very important part of herself from anybody who could find out, since it was likely she would be kicked out of the school she was in if people found out she was a faunus.

Which actually, did a lot of damage.

I mean look at Ilia now! She has trouble expressing herself until she explodes, she follows a crowd instead of her own morals, she broke down in tears when she finally did the right thing... Conceal Don’t Feel is never good advice, and these two went on and said ‘Honey, because of racism, you have to hide the fact you literally change color when you have emotions.’ Oh, and then they died offscreen--again, not their fault, but boy howdy did it give Ilia a complex.

10. Taiyang Xiao Long: Slumped at just the wrong time

Honestly, Tai as he is now is a wonderful dad. Supportive of his daughters in their time of need, able to lift their mood with a tasteless joke or two, frankly if we were assessing just how they were in the moment... I’d still be a little critical of his refusal to talk about the girls’ mothers, but hey, that’s minor. Compared to, you know...

Okay, so this needs serious addressing. Taiyang cannot be blamed for falling into a depressive slump. People can hurt, and need time to heal. That said, his depressive slump is at the root of Yang’s many issues, and frankly if she hadn’t had to pull herself together for Ruby she would be a major mess. It’s a bad situation all round, even if it’s not his fault.

9. Willow Schnee: “Kids, don’t wind up like me.”

Drowning her sorrows isn’t the best way to handle being stuck in an abusive marriage, but it was the best way Willow could think of. And, yeah, that really cut into her skills as a mom... but despite that, she did her darnedest to make sure her kids had what they needed to free themselves. Heck, once Jacques was out of the picture, she even pulled herself together and risked her life to save them! A broken women, to be sure, but not a shattered one.

8. Neptune's Mother: She exists!

Being fair, there’s not a lot to go on here. We know Neptune’s mother is a lawyer (insert evil lawyer joke), that their family are famous swimmers, and that his brother caused his hydrophobia by tossing him into the water. It does paint a bit of a picture, though, of everyone having expectations for Neptune that he was not able to live up to. Pretty poor parenting, if it’s true.

7. Nora Valkyrie's Mom: Come get your girl!

Literally the only factoid we have about Mama Valkyrie is that she abandoned her to the Grimm. We don’t know when this was, and it’s feasible it’s a case of ‘Oh No I Lost Track Of My Daughter In The Panic!’ But given we see young Nora scavenging for scraps of food... I’m not optimistic on her parenting skills.

6. Raven Branwen: "I wasn’t part of your life, how could I ruin it?”

Raven is just not a good mom at all. And, surprisingly, she seems to know it. Or that’s one interpretation of her character. The thing about Raven is that she plays her cards close to chest. We still don’t know why she left her daughter, and we only have inklings about the reasoning behind her behavior once they reunited. In the end, though... she did concede to Yang, she did apologize for something, and there’s a very deliberate indication that a lot of her behavior is a mask to both others and herself. So, terrible mother, for the moment, but self-aware.

5. Salem's Father: Explicitly noted as cruel

We get a bit more about Salem’s father from ‘Fairy Tales Of Remnant’, how he became possessive of the last remnant of his wife and locked her away in a tower. From what we know of him, that’s all he did--lock her away and not let her go. Still makes him a terrible dad. And with this, we transition firmly into the most definitively abusive parent figures. Everyone before this might have the excuse of not realizing what was going on or having their own damage, but now we’ve got parents actively deciding to make their kids’ lives worse.

4. Jacques Gelé: HE DOES NOT GET TO BE CALLED SCHNEE!

His children are property, to be manipulated and traded for the benefit of the company he married into, and any defiance is to be quelled instantly. He is manipulative, scheming, abusive, and frankly the worst sort of scumbag to ever wear a white suit. He does have the single redeeming quality of only leaning into the punishment if it benefits him; nobody would ever accuse the man of being needlessly cruel. His name is Jacques, and you will hate him... especially on the rare occasions he actually has a point.

3. The Marigolds: There’s no peppy tagline, they’re just mean

There’s not a picture of these jerks on the wiki, so you’ll have to make do with the woman that is no longer their daughter. See all that empty space around her? That’s about as close as they ever got. May spells out how much they hated her for having a heart, and how little they cared about her as a person, in one epic line. And even if they have other redeeming qualities (unlikely) we can tell they’d probably still be terrible parents because of how sleazy May’s cousin is. Honestly, for once I’m glad some characters don’t get pictures. They don’t deserve to be remembered. They aren’t even the cool kind of evil, they’re just... gross.

2. Marcus Black: Look if you train your kid to be a killer...

...you’re going to have to expect them to kill you. I mean, you basically ripped apart Mercury’s legs, man. He had to get cyberlegs. Also, you used your semblance to steal his. Which, given that semblances come from aura, and that aura is a manifestation of the soul, is kinda... that’s a deeply personal and intimate violation. Sure, you got your assassin kid. And can we talk about the fact that Marcus was an assassin? It’s not a pretty job. I guess I can see all the abuse--physical and mental--as a good way to train up another assassin, but... geeze, if that’s your goal, why did you use your own kid?! Why not hire some angsty teenager?! Yeah, no, Markus Black stood high on my list of parental monsters... and was only toppled by the arrival of one other.

1. Madame of the Glass Unicorn: She only appeared in one episode and she rocketed to the top of this list, that should tell you something

Let’s be clear here: What Madame did to Cinder is bad enough. It was literally slavery. Enforced by a shock collar. And because the collar looked like a necklace, she pulled it off in front of I don’t know how many clients. Granted, said clients were racists, why else would they be customers at a ‘We Do Not Serve Faunus’ hotel, but keeping her torture just out of the public eye very clearly shows both that she knew what she was doing was illegal and that she was clever enough to avoid detection.

Oh... and then there are her birth daughters.

With Cinder, she was abusive to a dangerous degree. With her daughters, she was permissive, not only allowing but encouraging them to bully their adoptive sister. The whole point of parenthood is to teach your children how to become the best version of themselves, but Madame didn’t even bother to instill a semblance of morality in these girls. She used them as extensions of her will, and they obliviously played along because that was all they knew.

You’d think the biggest monster on the show would be the Grimm woman, but no--it’s some random lady with a hotel.

#RWBY #Analysis #Ranking #I had the urge to make this #Feel free to disagree #Some of this is opinion-based

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