Tumgik
#you cannot tell me he didn’t even cry a little when they broke up
queenimmadolla · 10 months
Note
Eddie Munson. Love. Established relationship
𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩
“I cannot believe them.” Steve huffed out, hands resting on his hips as his foot tapped against the asphalt outside of the police station.
“You already said that,” Jonathan blanched, leaning back against the hood of his car while Argyle closely examined his own hands for whatever reason.
“Well, I can’t!” He snapped again and Eddie smirked, thoroughly amused with the situation. And worried.
He was also very worried.
Half an hour ago, he’d been in the trailer, eating mac and cheese straight from the pot when the phone rang.
It was Hopper. Specifically, Chief Hopper. As in, on duty, Chief Hopper. Eddie had immediately jumped into a monologue about how he hadn’t done anything and even if he did, Hopper had no proof of it but Hopper wasn’t calling to tell Eddie he had six cop cars in route.
He was calling to tell Eddie to come pick up his girlfriend, who had gotten into a bar brawl.
He’d raced the fuck over and was surprised to see the other guys pull up as well, though he probably shouldn’t have given the fact you’d gone out with Robin, Nancy and Eden.
What the fuck kind of trouble could that roster have gotten into???
Enough to warrant being taken to the police station.
Hopper had informed him you’d all be getting warnings, leeway you all got most definitely just because he was now Jonathan’s stepdad.
“It can’t have been that bad,” Eddie rolled his eyes when Steve froze in his irritable mom-pose and slowly turned to face him.
“Can’t have been that bad—WE’RE AT THE POLICE STATION!”
“Would you rather it be a courtroom?” Eddie asked, cocking an eyebrow. He pitied Buckley for the scolding she’d no doubt get from Steve on their drive home.
“I’d rather not have to pick her up from anywhere other than her house or work!”
“Calm down, Mother Hen. It was probably nothing,”
It was definitely something. 
The doors to the station opened, Nancy was the first out with Robin trailing her, you following Robin and Eden on your heels.
You all looked like you had definitely been involved in a fight, clothes rumpled and torn, hair a mess and Nancy sported a bloody lower lip. She started crying the moment she was in Jonathan’s arms, but he didn’t think it was because of her lip or even the fight, Nancy was just a very emotional drunk and her staggering was an obvious sign of intoxication.
You skipped right over to him and Eddie knew you were drunk, too.
“Hi, baby! I missed ya!” You sang as you slipped your arms around his waist to press yourself up against him for a hug, side of your face resting against his chest.
“You okay, sweetheart?” Eddie grabbed you by the shoulders, gently trying to pry you away from him so he could look you over for injuries but you refused to release your hold. The most he could do was get you to crane back a little so you could look at him.
“Neva’ betta’. Why?” You asked, cocking your head and beaming up at him.
Eddie’s face broke out into a grin. 
“Because a little birdy told me you were in a scrap.”
You were about to reply before the sound of Steve and Robin arguing with each other distracted you and you turned your head to watch them.
Eddie had to physically turn it back, and he was laughing as he did.
“C’mon, buttercup, I need you to stay with me, yeah?”
He held your chin between his thumb and forefinger, dipping his head to the side to catch your stare and you went back to beaming at him, eyes crinkled.
“I’ll stay with you forever.”
Fuck, you were so cute.
“That’s not really what I meant, baby, but I had no plans on letting you go. What happened tonight?”
You scoffed, arms dropping to your sides as you took a couple of steps back and glared at nothing.
“You wouldn’t freakin’ believe it, babe! Me and my girls,” You gestured to Nancy who was being coddled by Jonathan, Robin who was now scolding Steve, and Eden who was high-fiving Argyle, “were out having fun, getting sloshed—I had so many midori sours, baby, so many and my throw up is gonna be green—when alluvasudden Carol fuckin’ Perkins and her group of raggedy bitches comes up to us.”
Eddie’s eyebrows shot up. He knew just how much you despised Carol. You two hadn’t been exactly friendly back in high school.
“And I’m like ‘oh wow, Carol, I was actually hoping to never fucking see you again.’ But she wasn’t there for me, babe. She was there ‘cause of Robin.” You leaned in to whisper the last sentence to him.
“I din’t even fuckin’ know it—but I should’ve ‘cause like the resemblance is there, isn’t it? Like they look kind of like each other, you know?”
“No, baby. I have no idea what you’re talking about.” But Eddie was thoroughly invested in the drama, shifting his position to lean up against the van.
“Oh, yeah!” You laughed, amused that you knew and he didn’t. “Carol is Vickie’s cousin.”
Eddie’s eyes widened comically, sending you into a fit of giggles.
Vickie was Robin’s ex….something. Towards the end of senior year, Vickie had broken up with her long time boyfriend. On the rebound, looking for some attention to prove she was still wanted as most do after a breakup, she’d entertained Robin’s infatuation with her. 
They were always together, never affectionate in public, for obvious reasons, though Robin implied they were something. Then, it stopped. Vickie and her boyfriend got back together and she never even gave Robin proper closure, just stopped talking to her, stopped taking her phone calls and obviously avoided her.
It had been an unfortunate situation, the entire group pulled together to cheer Robin up but she got over it, met another girl, and they were an official couple. Girlfriend and girlfriend. She was away for a family thing and Robin couldn’t get the time off, which is why the girls had all gone out for a night to distract her.
“Carol is Vickie’s cousin!?” He whispered back in disbelief, hand flying over his mouth.
“Yeah!”
“So where does the fighting come in—is that blood?!” Eddie nearly had a heart attack as he noticed the red splatter on the front of your shirt. He hadn’t seen it earlier because you’d been glued to him.
You glanced down, taking the hem of your shirt in your hands to flare it out so you could see it better, “Oh, yeah! ‘S not mine, though. ‘S Carol’s. She told Robin people like her weren’t allowed in the bar, so I punched her a couple times and her friends started fighting us but we kicked their asses, baby!”
Eddie stared at you, eyes clouded with adoration and awe. 
You’d been dating for a while now, and every single damn day Eddie thought he found another thing he loved about you. Every. Single. Day.
And right then, in that moment, Eddie was finally able to express what he’d been thinking, feeling for the last couple of months. It wasn’t really the things you did that he loved about you. Eddie just loved you.
He needed you to know.
“I am so in love with you,” He breathed out, hands reaching out to latch onto your waist and draw you back into him. 
He was about to go on his spew about how you didn’t have to say it back and he just wanted you to know but you caught him by surprise, took the breath right out of him.
“I love you, too, Eds. Can we go home now? I’m hungry.”
Eddie blinked, knees weak.
“Baby, I don’t think you know what I’m sayi—“
“You said you love me and I love you, too. I’m drunk, baby, I can still hear you.” You sagged into him, head craned up to give him those eyes of yours.
“You love me?” He whispered, hand moving to tenderly cup the back of your head.
“Mhm.” You nodded, leaning up on your toes as Eddie met you halfway in a passionate kiss. He was about to tease your mouth open with his tongue when Hopper pushed his way out of the station.
“HEY! KNOCK IT OFF! GO HOME!”
Eddie laughed against your mouth as you pouted before he pulled away and ushered you into the van. Once you were buckled, he headed around to the driver’s side and took note of how meek Steve looked as he got into the driver’s seat of his own car. If Eddie didn’t know any better, he’d think it was Steve who got into trouble with the law, and Robin picking him up from the station.
Jonathan, Nancy, Argyle and Eden were long gone.
You were fiddling with the radio when he hopped in.
“It’s not working,” you frowned, continuing to press buttons.
“Sweetheart, the car’s not on.” 
“Oh.”
Eddie loved you so much.
2K notes · View notes
starsandhughes · 2 months
Text
Penalty Box— Imagines Edition: Not So Happy Birthday (Part Two)
GENERAL MASTERLIST
part one
happy birthday to me! have a present🤍 sorry it's so short!
warnings: mentions of drinking, mentions of underage drinking, crying, anxiety, fighting, mentions of prison
word count: 1.9k
Tumblr media
Previously
“I can’t believe him,” Jamie scoffed. “He told me he fucked up, but that was a whole new level of fucking up.”
“He crossed so many lines,” Cole agreed in disbelief.
“Yeah, well…” you took a deep breath, “I probably did, too. I don’t even remember some of the other awful things I said before I sobered up.”
“He had no right,” Petey piped up.
You nodded and brought your knees close to your chest and leaned more into Quinn, “I don’t want us to go to bed angry.”
“I don’t want him in this house right now, Sissy,” Quinn said.
“I know; I don’t want him either. I just don’t want to go to bed angry. We’ve never done that in our four plus years of dating, and I don’t want to start now.”
“He said the same thing in the car,” Cole admitted.
“He was a real mess,” Jamie admitted. “He couldn’t tell us what happened. He could barely get a word out.”
You nodded and closed your eyes as more tears slipped out. You knew what you had to do– what you wanted to do.
“Cole, can you come sit with me while I call him upstairs?” you asked quietly.
“You don’t want me?” Quinn asked, confused.
“I love you, Quinny, but sometimes best friend number two is better suited for a job,” you slightly smiled at him.
“You got me there,” Quinn breathed out a laugh.
He let go of his hold on you as you accepted Cole’s hand to walk up the stairs with you. He sat down on the edge of the bed and kept your hand in his as you picked up your phone to call your boyfriend. Trevor picked up his phone immediately, “Hello?!”
“Hi,” you said quietly.
“Y/N, I am so sorry. I cannot believe–”
“I’m sorry, too,” you cut him off. “We’ll talk about everything tomorrow. I just didn’t want to go to bed angry.”
“Yeah,” Trevor sighed. “Me either.”
“I love you,” you breathed. You squeezed Cole’s hand in fear that he might not say it back.
“I love you, too,” he finally answered.
“Always?”
“Forever.”
— — —
You woke up just after six am the next morning after a restless night full of overthinking. Quinn was knocked out on the other side of his bed, so you carefully slid out from under the covers to go downstairs. You made yourself a cup of coffee then wrapped yourself in a throw blanket as you sat and slowly sipped your drink on the end of the couch. You were completely zoned out. The only thing going through your mind are various fake situations as to how today’s talk with Trevor will go. You had practiced the made up conversation in your head that you could probably direct a movie scene for it.
You didn’t know if Trevor was awake yet and it was killing you. Is he going to call first? Or is he anxiously waiting for you to call him since you have to give him permission to even walk in the house. Your anxiety was killing you, so you decided to go outside and sit on the front porch in order to avoid anyone that might wake up soon.
The answer to the questions in your head was answered as soon as you stepped outside. Trevor was sitting in his car at the end of the driveway with his head laying on the steering wheel. He was just as a mess as you were. You stood right in front of the door to the house, contemplating on turning right back around and going inside. Trevor hadn’t noticed you yet. You could do it and avoid what needed to happen for a little while longer. You could leave the helpless boy alone in his car. You could go sit back down on the couch and listen to your thoughts screaming at you. You could, but you didn’t want to.
You sat in one of the porch chairs and pulled out your phone. You scrolled to Trevor’s contact and pressed call, not wanting to brave the walk down to his car.
“Good morning,” Trevor said when he answered the call. The sound of his voice broke your heart. It was obvious that he had been crying.
“Good morning,” you echoed.
“Did you sleep–”
“Get out of your car,” you cut him off. Trevor whipped his head around with wide eyes as he looked to see you on the porch.
“Are you sure?” he whispered.
“No,” you sighed. “But you should do it anyway.”
You watched him as he carefully walked up the driveway as if he was preparing for you to tell him to turn back around. You put your head down once he got close to you. You were almost ashamed at how nervous you felt. He’s your boyfriend for fucks sake! He’s your soulmate, you’re lifeline.
He’s the person who hurt you last night. On your birthday. While in jail.
Trevor knelt down on his knees in front of you and slowly brought his hand up to your cheek. You closed your eyes and pursed your quivering lips. Last night, all you wanted was to see him, so why were you so scared?
“Please look at me, Y/N,” Trevor pleaded in a whisper. He slowly drew his thumb across your cheek bone, “Please.”
He sighed in relief when you finally opened your eyes to look at him. It was evident that he had no sleep, and the pain in his eyes made you want to skip the whole conversation part and throw yourself into his arms. He needed you just as bad as you needed him. This was killing both of you.
“I know you’ve thought of a million different ways for how this will go, but I need you to let me go off your script, okay? Let me talk first.” Trevor took a deep breath when you nodded. “I am so unbelievably sorry for what I said last night. I should’ve thought things through before I opened my mouth and said things I didn’t mean. You’ve been through things that no one should ever have to go through. Things that I can’t even try to relate to. It wasn’t okay for me to throw that in your face when the reason that I was upset had nothing to do with that.
“I shouldn’t have even been upset! I assumed things that weren’t even true and then got mad that you flipped it on me and I stepped way out of line. I kept replaying things over and over last night and you were right. You didn’t know who the guy was and so many of our friends have come up behind you in the same way, so I get that that was your first thought. You looked absolutely beautiful last night. Not for me, not for strangers, but for you.
“I got flashbacks to one of our high school parties before we got together when Jack said that you dressed up just for me and then you talked with some other guy the second we walked into that club and I don’t even know why. My stupid high school insecurities that you were into anybody else but me came back up and I turned into a total dick because of it. None of this is an excuse. I don’t want it to be an excuse, I just want you to know why I acted like that. The universe decided to pull a cruel joke on me and I got scared. I am so sorry, sweet girl. I didn’t mean a word I said and I’ll get it if you never want to see me again. I just need you to know that I’m sorry and that I love you.”
You didn’t know how to feel. Nothing that he just said was even close to what made-up Trevor said, and you were thrown for a loop. You understood that fear and anxiety could play tricks on you and warp your mind. It makes you act out in self defense, sometimes rather stupidly. The alcohol definitely made it worse. It certainly does for you. It did the night of the party that he was talking about.
“I didn’t want to talk to that guy that night,” you said. “I tried to walk away, but you were surrounded by girls. The beer got the best of me and I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me, so I stayed. But I did dress up for you. Jack was telling the truth.”
Trevor softly smiled and tucked some hair behind your ear, “I guess we went back in time last night, huh? Just reversed the roles.”
“Yeah,” you nodded. You decided it was your turn after the silence lingered for a bit. “I’m sorry, too. I know you have to be nice to the fans and I honestly never think anything of it. I was hurt and mad and I lashed back. You didn’t deserve that.”
“Can you give me one more chance?” Trevor asked you. His voice was shaky and ridden with fear.
You smiled and got down on the ground to be on his level. You ran your fingers through the sides of his hair and settled your hands at the nape of his neck, “You never lost your current one.”
You slowly brought your lips to his and kissed him softly. It was quick, but it said all that you needed to say. You rested your forehead against his when your lips parted and felt your body relax as soon as his steady breaths hit your face. It had only been a night, and you were used to spending nights away from him while he was on roadies, but the absence of his touch last night left you feeling like a part of you was missing. It didn’t matter that you fought, all you wanted was him.
“I love you,” Trevor breathed. “Forever.”
“I love you, always.”
“How about we go inside and I make you a fresh cup of coffee? Do you think Quinn will kill me if he sees me inside?”
“Maybe,” you joked. “But I think I can take him.”
“You can definitely take him,” Trevor said.
You laughed and accepted Trevor’s hand to be pulled off the ground. He grabbed your blanket and wrapped it around your shoulders, took your half drunk cup of coffee in his hand, and followed you inside.
You smiled to yourself on the couch when you heard Trevor softly singing as he made the two of you coffee. He always made his cup first and your cup second so that yours would be the warmest out of the two. You knew it didn’t really make a difference, but it’s one of your favorite things that Trevor does for you. You looked back and watched him as he poured the creamer into his cup and patiently waited for yours to finish brewing.
Your smile grew when Trevor smiled back at you when he noticed you watching as he walked towards the living room. Trevor kissed your forehead before handing you your mug, just as he always did. You leaned against his shoulder once he sat down next to you, finally feeling content.
“How long do you think we have until anyone wakes up?” Trevor asked you.
“Probably a few hours,” you chuckled. “Not everyone couldn’t sleep last night and got up at the crack of dawn.”
“So does that mean we have time to…?” he trailed off, but you knew exactly what he meant.
“Trevor Zegras,” you faked a gasp. “Are you asking for makeup sex?”
“I would never!” Trevor played along.
“Petey’s asleep in my room,” you said.
“Race you to the car?”
“You’re on.”
227 notes · View notes
Text
Guilt II
Tumblr media
Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
Summary: Spencer has to face up to what he has done. Will you be around to hear his apologies?
Part 1
Word Count: 2,866
(just realised pt1 and pt2 have the same word count tf?!)
A/n: Holy sh**!!!! I cannot believe how much this fic blew up! I am so so glad for all of your lovely comments so here is the long anticipated part 2. I hope you all enjoy it and I love every single one of you!!!
Spencer's leg bounced rhythmically as he sat in the waiting room with the others. Hunched over, fidgeting with his hands and trying his best to keep his breaths even to stave off another panic attack. His head was bowed so he didn’t have to look at anyone, too ashamed to take his eyes off the floor. 
You had crashed only a little while ago but it felt like an eternity to Spencer. 
The rest of the team was scattered around the room. 
J.J was sitting next to Emily, crying silent tears that she refused to wipe away. 
Emily was keeping her eye on Spencer just in case he snapped again and she had to step in. 
Morgan was standing by the window with Penelope in his arms, swaying gently from side to side.  
Penelope's makeup was a mess from crying and Morgan had a large bruise forming on his cheekbone. 
Hotch and Rossi were standing near the doorway in quiet conversation. 
This is when a sudden realisation had Spencer gasping as he reached into his pocket for his phone. 
“Reid?” Emily kept her voice soft. “You okay?” 
Spencer sniffled as he tapped on his phone, “I haven’t contacted her family. How did I not think of this before?” 
Emily sat forward and placed her hand on his knee, “Reid, it’s okay. J.J already called them, they know what’s going on and are trying to get here as soon as they can.” 
Spencer ran his fingers through his hair, “How did I forget that? How could I forget to tell them their daughter is in hospital?!” 
J.J could see the agitation quickly returning and shook her head, “Spence, you’re under tremendous stress right now. No one is going to be mad at you.” 
He scoffed but before he could retort a doctor walked in from around the corner. 
“Family of Y/n Y/L/n?” 
Spencer shot to his feet as the doctor walked in, “Is she okay?” He asked desperately as the rest of the team held their breath. 
“She’s stable.” 
The entire room let out the involuntary breath they were holding. 
Spencer felt a great weight lift off his chest, “What happened?” 
“Y/n had a cardiac arrest as a result of the stress the surgery must have put on the heart. We’ve put her on blood thinners and we will be monitoring her very closely.” 
“Can I see her?” 
The doctor nodded, “Of course.” Before she led him out of the waiting area and down the corridor to your room. 
When Spencer walked in he almost couldn’t believe it.  
You looked exactly the same. 
How could that be possible? 
You were lying in the same position. Your hair was a little out of place but apart from that you wouldn’t be able to tell that your heart had stopped and the doctors had to shock you just a little while ago. 
The chairs had been pushed out of the way for the doctors to get to you, so Spencer had to drag one back over to your bedside and sat down heavily. He took a deep breath and took your hand again. 
“You scared me. Y/n, you really scared me. I am so angry at how scared you made me too. Which doesn’t make sense does it? How can I be angry at you when you’re the one who almost- almost-.” His voice broke so he swallowed to try and get back under control again. 
A knock on the door made him turn around. 
Rossi was standing in the doorway with a bottle of water and a sandwich. 
“Thought you could use this.” He walked into the room and stopped by one of the chairs, “Mind if I join you?” 
Spencer shook his head so Rossi pulled up a chair beside Spencer before handing out the items to him. 
Spencer laid eyes on the sandwich in Rossi’s hand and his stomach churned in hunger, “Thank you.” He took the items from Rossi and took a sip from the water. 
Rossi never spoke, he only sat as a silent companion while Spencer devoured the sandwich and water.  
It wasn’t until after Spencer finished and threw the rubbish in the bin Rossi spoke up, “You want to talk about it?” 
Spencer leaned back in his chair, “How’s Morgan?” 
Rossi folded his hands in his lap, “He isn’t angry with you if that’s what you’re asking.” 
Spencer let out a deprecating laugh, “I punched him in the face.” 
Rossi gave him a stern look, “We all understand what grief can do to someone.” 
“He’s my best friend.” 
“Which is why he isn’t angry.” 
Spencer sighs as he stares back to you, “You know, I felt like there was two types of people in the world. Those that get over their grief and move on and then those who descend into an endless misery.” He turned to look at Rossi, “I always thought I was the first one.” 
“Until now?” 
He nodded. 
“She’s not gone kid. Y/n’s a fighter.” 
Spencer smiled sadly, “I know but look at me. What would I be like if she was?” 
Rossi leant forward and placed his hand on Spencer’s knee, “She’s not and that’s what you need to focus on.” 
6 Days. 
17 hours. 
21 minutes. 
20 seconds. 21. 22. 23. 
Spencer blinked out of his sleep. 
He saw the familiar walls around him that were now filled with cards and flowers brought by her family and the team. 
Stretching out he moaned in pain, every single muscle hurt. These hospital chairs were not good for someone of average height, never mind someone over six foot. 
Looking around he found the source of what woke him up, Morgan was standing at the foot of your bed with two cups of coffee and a paper bag. 
Spencer hasn’t talked to him since his fist connected with his jaw almost a week ago. 
Morgan held out one of the cups and the bag, “A peace offering.” 
Spencer gave him a small smile as he reached out but Morgan pulled it out of his reach and raised an eyebrow at him, “Only if you don’t hit me again.” 
He couldn’t help the chuckle that bubbled inside him, “Okay.” 
Morgan nodded and sat down beside him, “Any change?” 
Spencer sipped on his coffee, “She’s responding more. More eye movement. They’re going to try and wake her up later.” 
Morgan smiled supportively, “That’s great news, Spencer.” 
After a moment of silence Spencer opened his mouth, “Morgan I-” 
Morgan held up his hand, “You don’t need to say it, kid. I know.” 
Spencer sighed, “I shouldn’t have acted the way I did.” 
Figuring out that nothing else would cut through to Spencer he crossed his legs, “Did you know that around 1.5% of the population experiences anger with grief.” 
Getting the reaction he wanted he saw Spencer frown, “With what study?” 
Morgan shrugged, “Google.” and when Spencer scoffed, he leaned forward, “Look, it wasn’t right but you did it and I know why you did and I forgive you anyway. So, forget about it. You hit like a girl anyway.” 
At that the two bubbled into a fit of laughter. 
Once the laughter died down Spencer spoke up, “Morgan, can I ask you something?” 
“Yeah, kid. Anything.” 
Spencer took a deep breath, not really wanting to get into this conversation, “What did you hear?” 
Morgan raised an eyebrow, “What?” 
Spencer bit his lip, Morgan could see the nervousness bleeding out of him, “When I was on the phone to Maeve. What did you hear?” 
Morgan rubbed his head, “Spencer, that doesn’t matter right n-” 
“No, it... It matters to me.” 
Morgan shook his head, “I can’t remember exactly now, but you were talking to Maeve, wanting to meet up.” 
Spencer frowned, “That’s it?” 
Morgan shrugged, “It was enough for Y/n.” 
Spencer blinked at him, “Morgan, she’s a doctor. Of course, she wanted to meet me in person.” 
“Look, Y/n made me promise that if I ever heard anything I was to tell her. It sounded like something she needed to know.” 
Spencer couldn’t believe it. All of this over a simple meet up. He wasn’t angry though, he’s past anger, he just wants you to wake up. He coughed lightly, “I’m cutting ties with her anyway, I’m going to find a new doctor.” 
Morgan stood up and slapped him gently on the shoulder, “I think that’s for the best. Let me know if there’s any changes.” 
“Will do.” 
When Spencer was alone again with his own thoughts, he knew Morgan was right. This is for the best and all he cared about was that you were happy and he will do anything to make that happen. 
Anything. 
Speaking of doing anything, you would do anything right now to get out of whatever position you are in right now. Your arms and legs feel like pure led. You couldn’t move your head or even open your eyes. It feels like you’ve stayed in bed all day and not in the good way. 
Everything was so heavy. 
The only thing that made the feelings at all nice was the pleasant, warm, soothing weight that was on your right hand. 
You could move your eyes but not your eye lids to open them. So, all you could stare at was the weird darkness yet explosions of colour that you were well acquainted with. 
“When you wake up, I am going to do everything for you.” 
You frown, well, you try to frown. Who was speaking to you right now? 
“You’re not going to lift a finger for weeks. Any takeaway you desire, I’ll get it for you. I’ll even attempt to do a backflip.” 
Well that just sounds crazy. 
“We’ll go to that sushi restaurant that just opened that you’ve always wanted to try and I will get us those Broadway tickets too. I’ll even let you braid my hair.” 
Spencer! It’s definitely him. You pestered him for ages to go to that new restaurant and also to let you put his hair into a bun or some braids. 
“But we can only do that if you wake up, okay? So, you need to do that soon.” 
Wake up? But you are awake? 
You are awake? 
You are awake! 
Spencer! 
“Spencer...” 
Spencer’s eyes turned into dinner plates. You definitely just spoke. 
He jumped out of his seat and leaned over you, “Y/n? Sweetheart? Can you hear me?” 
His heart jumped when your eyebrows creased into a frown. 
You were waking up! 
“Y/n, open your eyes for me. Please.” 
It was slow at first, your eyes opening lazily and closing again. 
Spencer squeezed your hand and gasped when he felt you squeeze back, “That’s it. That’s it sweetheart, you’re doing so good.” 
He watched as you slowly opened your eyes, finally having enough strength to keep them open. 
Spencer felt a weight lift off of his chest that hasn’t left him in a week. Letting out a sigh of relief as tears formed in his eyes from seeing your own beautiful eyes again. 
“Hi.” you whispered. 
Spencer sniffled before smiling widely at you, “Hey there.” He let go of your hand and sat down on the bed beside you and raised both of his hands to gently cup your cheeks, stroking you with his thumbs, “I am so happy to see you.” 
Your heart swelled at the affection. It had been a long time since Spencer had been like this with you. 
“What- what happened?” your voice was croaky from not using it for so long. 
Spencer leaned over to grab a jug of water that the nurse had brought in that morning and quickly filled a plastic cup before holding it to your lips, “Small sips.” 
After you had done as he said he put the cup to the side, “You got shot in collarbone the field. You lost a lot of blood at the scene before we got you here but the surgery went well.” 
You nodded, “The UnSub?” 
“We got him, no one else got hurt.” 
“You’re in different clothes.” 
Spencer chuckled, “You’ve been out for a week.” 
“What?” you gasped before trying to get up. 
“No, no. Stay down.” Spencer gently pushed down against you until you were lying back down on the bed again, “We arrived and you went straight to surgery, couple hours after that you crashed again but they brought you back and now the doctor says you’re going to be fine.” 
It was a lot of information to take in at one time. It rendered you completely speechless. You looked down in shock and saw all of the wires in your arms. 
“Hey, look at me. Baby, look at me.” Spencer tried to keep your eyes on him so that you didn’t descend into a panic. “You’re okay.” 
You nodded as you tried to keep calm, choosing instead to focus on him, “How’re you?” 
Spencer frowned, “You just woke up from a coma and you’re asking me how I am?” 
You gave him your best serious face, which never works at all, to Spencer it looks more like a puppy trying to look cross. 
“Remember what I was like in the anthrax case and that was only a day. You’ve been waiting for seven.” 
Spencer’s stomach flipped. How could anyone ever think that there was a more perfect person for him than the woman lying right in front of him, “Better now.” he lifted your hand so he could kiss the back of it. “I mean that.” 
You frowned but before you could reply Spencer kept talking. 
“Y/n, I need to apologise to you. Our fight, which doesn’t even seem relevant anymore, I’m sorry it happened and I should’ve been more accepting of your feelings. I’m sorry that what Derek told you had you thinking about packing and going to stay with him. I’m sorry for making you feel like there could ever be any other woman in my life other than you. I am so thankful for the one I have and I love you so much. More than there are stars in the universe.” 
Tears filled your eyes at his declaration, “Oh, Spence.” You hadn’t mean to lose faith in him but when Derek came to you saying that Spencer and Maeve were thinking of meeting up you had thought the worst. You thought your fears of him leaving were coming true. That he had found someone smarter and more beautiful. 
Spencer sniffled as he lifted your left hand so you could see your engagement ring, “When I gave you this ring, I made a promise. To you and to myself. That come what may, the world will not stop me from marrying the most amazing and the most beautiful woman that was ever created.” 
You squeezed his hand and smiled at him, “You don’t have to apologise. I was just being paranoid and-” 
“No.” Spencer’s face had contorted into frustration, “No. Don’t you apologise for this. I did this to us and I’m going to do everything I can to fix it. Starting with cutting all contact with Maeve.” 
Your mouth dropped open, “What? But what about-” 
Spencer shook his head, “I can find a new geneticist, I'd never be able to find a new you.” 
A tear finally slipped from your eye before you quickly wiped it away and gently punched Spencer’s arm, “You know, for an awkward nerdy guy you really know how to pull at the heartstrings." You laughed through the tears. 
“Why are you crying?” he asked softly. 
You sniffled and smiled, “Because I love you.” 
Spencer feigned a frown, “And that makes you cry?” 
“Oh, shut up and kiss me.” 
Spencer chuckled before cupping your cheeks once again and leaning down to place his lips on yours. They were a little dry but Spencer was in no way complaining. He was kissing you again and you were kissing back. He shut his eyes tight, if this was a dream he was never, ever waking up again. 
Slowly pulling back he was so glad to see you weren’t a dream, you were awake and staring back at him. He placed his forehead against yours and whispered, “I love you too.” 
He kissed your forehead and when you tried to move you hissed in pain, “Okay, I think we’re going to have to get a real doctor in here now.” 
Spencer placed a hand over his heart and protested wholeheartedly, “I am a real doctor!” 
You raised your eyebrow at him. 
“I’m serious, I have a title and everything!” he pouted. 
“Mmhmm, yeah, sure.” You enjoyed toying with him, “Oh alright! Could you please get the M.D doctor please, three PhD Doctor Reid?” 
Spencer chuckled and booped your nose, “Anything for you.” As he got to the door he turned to you, “By the way, there’s something else you should know...” 
“What is it?” you asked apprehensively. 
“I may or may not have punched Derek in the face.” He rushed out before quickly sprinting out of the room, making it halfway down the hall before he heard, 
“Spencer Reid, you get back here!” 
God, he was so glad to have her back. 
Taglist:
I don't really post enough to warrent a taglist but so many of you requested!
@scallywag1299 @nyenye @13thdoctor-run @sebastiansstanswhore @glxwingrxse @jetblackwingsss @lagirl112 @ssa-uglywhore27 @stfu-rina @fuglyputa24 @cupidddd-d @somiaw
2K notes · View notes
ruskaroma · 8 months
Note
omg omg (i really need professional help) i had this Vision of dark+DARK+mean!john wick learning about an asshole who bullied their bunny-really-the-nicest-human-being!reader back during her school years (the reader cluelessly mentions it during conversation). john is not just angry outraged etc, he is The Rage, The War, The Biblical Day of Wrath, so he finds that guy, beats/tortures the living shit out of him and then brings his absolutely clueless little pretty bunny so that she could finish him. john is behind the reader, his arms wrapped around her arms, his hands on her shaking hands holding a gun pointing at the barely breathing man tied to a chair. the reader is crying begging to stop, and john goes "he deserves it, honey <3. now, right kneecap. go, princess, don't let me down".
Oh my god I have something for you.
Let’s give it a very dark twist, shall we? We’ll stick to this concept, but let’s make it even darker.
TW: mentions of past sexual and physical abuse, blood and gore, graphic depiction of torture, john being a very very mean man like he is fucked in the head may god bless his soul, john is also forcefully making the reader kill the man so there’s that.
It was a slip of your tongue. You didn’t notice it, but John surely did. You were used to rambling your thoughts away, a habbit that John adores so much, hearing your voice and telling him everything that’s in your head, because it means you’re not keeping any secrets from him.
A supposed to be peaceful Saturday night ruined John’s whole week, but he didn’t let it show. He kept himself composed around you, smiling so softly when you’d share a random fact about the things you’re holding or whatever comes in mind. He’s a master in the arts of keeping his expression controlled despite his emotions practically clawing their way out of his fucking lungs.
Your head was on his lap as he brushed your hair with his long fingers softly. For a hand that’s killed too many people to count, it’s surprisingly merciful around you. A shitty horror movie was playing on the TV but your attention quickly diverted to somewhere else when you watched a rather familiar scene in the film.
“Oh, man, that sucks. I know how it feels, I used to get hit by my ex-boyfriend all the time.”
What the fuck, John thought. His fingers stopped their movements as he furrowed his eyebrows. You said it as a whisper too but he heard it. He heard it fucking clearly.
“What?”
“Huh?” You moved your head to look up to him. “You said something?”
“You did,” John pointed out. “About your ex-boyfriend. What did you say?”
“Ohhh,” you said in realization, but your tone was calm. Like it was the most fucking normal thing to say in a conversation. “Yeah, he was mean. He used to hit me every time I made a very small mistake, but he said sorry when we broke up.”
John didn’t know what to say. He was frozen, trying to comprehend the words that were being thrown at him all at once.
His baby – the love of his life, someone who cannot even hurt a fucking ant – just dropped a bomb that she was a victim of abuse.
“Why didn’t you tell me about this before?” John tried to keep his voice leveled, soft, as he placed a large hand on your cheek and pulled you up so he could take a good look at your face.
“Well, you didn’t ask. And it’s not like it mattered anymore. I went to therapy and everything was back to normal.”
“No, that’s not –” he closed his eyes in frustration, trying so hard to keep his shit together. “Did he do anything else? Where is he now?”
“He’s–he’s doing fine. I don’t know where he is, it’s been awhile since we’ve gotten in touch.”
John could hear the tremble in your voice, like you knew what was going to come, like you knew what he’s going to do.
He didn’t answer after you said that. He looked away from you, put his attention back to the television.
You shrugged it off, hoping he would let it go.
*
He did not, in fact, let it go.
You came home one day after work to see him being rather... cheery than usual. It was unusual in itself. John being particularly cheery was not something you see in your everyday life.
He had already cooked dinner when you arrived, ate it beside you with an arm around your shoulders. He was also crooning at your ears, asking about your day if something special happened.
“I have a surprise for you.”
Your eyebrows flew up, curious yet amused. Is this why he was cheery all of a sudden?
He led you to his basement – a place where you’re never allowed to go, always bolted shut and completely restricted to you. You were getting a pretty bad feeling about this.
“What–what are we doing here, John?”
Again, he didn’t answer. You could see the grim, dark expression on his face as he opened the door. The face you only ever see when he was just coming back from a long, tiring day at work. The face you only see you know he just slaughtered someone.
Turns out, he did.
Not exactly slaughtered, but close enough.
The man who made you go through hell for years, tied up in a chair in the middle of the room, missing all his fingers on both his feet and hands.
“John, what the–”
Your boyfriend pushed a heavy pistol in your hand, and your heart is beating so hard inside your chest you couldn’t speak properly. You haven’t yet got the time to comprehend what was happening. It was all too fast.
“Pull it.”
“J-John, please don’t–”
“Pull it,” John repeated. He didn’t like repeating himself. You know this. He was standing behind you, his chest pressing against your back, warm and broad and his voice sounded so menice and fucking evil and– “Pull it, baby, before I do it myself.”
“Why are you–” your voice was shaking as well as your hands. You wanted to drop the weapon but you knew it wouldn’t do you any good, not when John was just behind you. “Why are you doing this, John? Please let him–let him go, it was a long time ago–”
“I don’t care,” he said simply, one large hand sneaking down to grab your wrist that’s holding the gun, pointing it directly at the man who’s – Jesus, was he still alive? You saw him move, he flinched, then let out a cough that made more blood from his mouth drip onto his lap. “I haven’t killed him yet because that’s your job.”
“N-No–” tears were forming into your eyes. The feeling of John’s hand gripping yours was already too much to bear, much worse pointing it to the man who abused and neglected you during your relationship, but why were you feeling bad? “John, I–I don’t w-want to, John, please, I don’t want–”
John sighed, disappointed, but he didn’t let you go. Instead, he leaned down closer to your ear and pressed a soft kiss there. His beard tickled, making you flinch and let out a shaky breath as you gulped hard.
“John, he–I know you’re doing this because you think it’s best, but I–I promise you that it’s not worth it–it’s in the past and, and–”
“Excuses, excuses,” John whispered, standing straight and taking a step away from you, positioning himself in front of the gun. “Here you are, begging for the life of the man who abused you in the past. Don’t you think that sounds absolutely ridiculous, baby?”
“It’s not–it’s not ridiculous, John, I promised! We–we talked one time after our breakup and he–he apologized for everything, I swear–I swear, John, it was all in the past–”
John cut off your rambling with an evil stare, and it was so unlike him that it scared you right to the very core. “Pull the trigger or I will. I’ll put a fucking hole in his head, saw it off and send it to his little wife and children back in Vegas.”
“John–” you sobbed. “John, please–”
“Did you know that I made him confess every diabolical shit that he’d done to you every time I chop off one of his fingers?” John said it in such a calm and steady tone that it made you only afraid of him even more. “I chopped all his fingers, and he still won’t stop confessing more. Can you believe that?”
“I already forgave him–I already forgave him, John, this wasn’t necessary–”
“It won’t be the same if I’m the one who pulls the trigger now, would it? It wouldn’t be fair, because I’m not the one who suffered under his hands,” John pushed even further, walking back to his original position behind you, gripping your arm and pointing the pistol directly at his head. “If you don’t pull that fucking trigger in the next five second, I’ll let you use a chainsaw to do it and trust me when I say you wouldn’t want it messy.”
You gulped, feeling yourself grow more and more afraid as John stood behind you. He was radiating anger, but he was keeping it at bay, though his swear words might be some of the leakage of his emotions he couldn’t contain any longer.
“I don’t want–don’t make me d-do this, John–”
“One...”
“John, please–”
“Two....” His voice was scary. Deep and level, and the grip on your arm tightened. You felt suffocated.
“I’m gonna throw u-up if I–”
“Three...” He was getting agitated.
The man’s head rose up from his position earlier to meet your eyes, and you swore you felt your stomach churn. His eyes were fucking gone.
The man opened his mouth to speak and a weak voice came. “D-Don’t–”
You pulled the trigger.
“There’s my little bunny.”
You dropped the gun as soon as his brains flew against your face and onto the wall, painting it red. You couldn’t bear to watch any further. You turned with a sob and buried your face in John’s chest, crying hysterically as he soothed you calmly by petting your head.
“Good girl. You did so fucking good, I’m so proud of you.”
267 notes · View notes
shiningfremi · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media
freminet when you’re sick/hurting
s/o comfort headcanons + drabble!
Tumblr media
- freminet will buy you so much stuff and deliver it right to you. fluffy socks? check. your favorite snacks + beverages? check. medicine? check! it’s like a never ending care package.
- he takes extra care to accompany you and stay close, even if he risks catching your illness. he cannot stand not to come to your aid whenever possible. and when you fall asleep, he adjusts the covers for you and dims the lights, making sure you are nice and comfortable.
- if you have a low appetite, he’ll make extra sure that you are drinking enough water. even if you’re taking the tiniest of sips, he is happy that you are trying.
🐠🍦♡ ̆̈☀️
freminet offered you some lemon water, and informed you that it can help with congestion.
“t-thanks..” you groan, shivering under the covers after you took a little taste.
“is there anything else i can do for you?” he inquired, gently reaching over to put a hand on your shoulder.
“you’ve already done so much for me, fremi.” suddenly, you wince as a horrible ache burgeons in your stomach, forcing you to curl up in a ball.
“of course, now is a time when you need it most-” he then quickly noticed your struggles and scooted a bit closer in concern. “y/n?”
you couldn’t help but cry out in pain, a single tear running down your cheek. you’ve never been this sick in a long time, and you simply felt miserable.
“my stomache..” are the only words you managed to choke out.
“shh, shh, it’s alright, i’m here.” he assured you, his heart broke seeing you in this dire condition.
you continue to sob, trying to stifle your cries the best you could.
“breathe, just breathe, as deeply as you are able.” freminet instructed you, his attention never leaving you, not even for a split second.
you did as he told you to do, breathing in and out, interrupted by a few pitiful coughs.
“there, there.” he soothed, and watched on as your breathing grew steady and your eyes blinked dry. he pulled out his hankerchief from his pocket to gently blot your tears and wipe off your nose.
“see? all better.” he playfully squished your cheeks, causing you to let out a small giggle. it seemed as if he knew exactly what do to when you were feeling down.
“there’s my y/n.”
“i’m sorry you have to see me like this.” you tell him, your voice shaky.
“there is no need to apologize.. i want nothing more than to make sure you’re not alone.” freminet leaned over you and planted a loving kiss on your forehead despite how much you were sweating.
“please don’t hesitate to rely on me.”
his gestures were so sweet, that it made your eyes want to glass over once more. you gave him a small, exhausted grin, and burrowed your head into your soft pillow as he coaxed you to get some more sleep.
🌴🐬♡ ̆̈🍉
- this amazing boy would most definitely hold your hair back in your times of nausea. he didn’t give any care to what you looked like, as that was the last thing on his mind, he just wanted to nurse you back to health no matter what.
- he would dutifully inform you about what you were missing out on, and passed on kind messages from your coworkers and friends.
- freminet would give you back and shoulder massages, hoping to ease your distress and help to relax your muscles.
- he would take great care of the place you two shared during your hiatus, cleaning thoroughly, cooking simple sick-friendly meals, and disinfecting everything.
- when your condition improves, he reminds you over and over again not to overwork yourself and continues to check up on you by touching your forehead with the back of his hand and tucking you in. you are everything to him! ଘ(੭´꒳`)°* ੈ‧₊˚
149 notes · View notes
hederasgarden · 2 years
Text
Stand By Me - Part 1
Summary: When a local ranch hand’s attention evolves into something more sinister, Rhett Abbott becomes an unlikely source of comfort and protection for you. Pairing: Rhett Abbott x F!Reader Word Count: 4K (SORRY) Rating: Mature, future chapters will be explicit and 18+ only. Stalking, anxiety, panic attack, and Rhett being protective. Future chapters will include some violence. No spoilers for Outer Range. A/N: This will be a three part series. I cannot thank @wildbornsiren, @mayhem24-7forever and @callsign-phoenix enough for their help and support putting this together. Thank you @callsignhurricane for the absolutely gorgeous header.
Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed this story. Your interactions keep me writing and inspired.
Tumblr media
Masterlist
He’s back again, lingering at the front of the store by the power tool display.
Even though his straw hat is pulled low to shield his face, you know it’s him. Greasy strands of thin blond hair peek out from under his hat and you recognize the distinctive scar running down the side of his neck that disappears into his shirt. You don’t know his name, only that he’s a seasonal worker at one of the ranches outside of town. He came to the hardware store one morning weeks ago to buy supplies to fix a downed fence. Your conversation was brief, but even then he unsettled you. His gaze lingering too long, fingers brushing over the bare skin of your forearm as you turned to leave.
You tried to forget about the strange interaction until he started showing up like clockwork during your shifts. He never bought anything, just lingered and stared. When he did speak, it was always questions that were overly personal, though never quite bad enough for you to feel comfortable calling him out. Any space you tried to put between the two of you was quickly eaten up by his imposing frame. He made you feel small, vulnerable. After the first few times, you learned to stay behind the counter when he was in the store, anxious to face him without something between you.
By far, the worst was the strange little gifts you’d find on your car windshield after he left. They started small like your favorite flowers or little stuffed animals, but quickly escalated. Sometimes it was things you remembered mentioning that you needed to coworkers or customers. New gardening gloves when your old pair got a hole or a phone charger for the one that broke. A few times you found charcoal drawings of yourself tucked under the wiper. They were nearly all of your face and always done in achingly deep detail.
That’s when you went to the Sheriff; but he wasn’t much help. He made it clear that he thought you were overreacting, even going so far as to suggest that you should take the attention as a compliment. Deputy Joy had been more willing to listen, offering to sit outside the store and catch him in the act.
He never showed on the days she was there.
Things got worse when he asked you out and you politely declined, citing a boyfriend that didn’t really exist. His 'gifts' continued, but the tone shifted dramatically. Dead flowers and sketches torn or with your eyes scratched out. You tried to go back to the police station half a dozen times but always lost your nerve. Instead you kept quiet, embarrassed and scared, half hoping he’d lose interest or move onto the next town for work.
You didn’t tell anyone else until Cecilia Abbott caught you crying in your car early in front of the store one morning. She was a regular, coming in weekly for supplies or just to chat with the owner, Mr. Anderson, always with a kind word for you and the other employees. You didn’t want to tell her about the man. Then she knocked on your window, looking so concerned, and you couldn’t help it. You didn’t tell her everything though, feeling like somehow this whole situation was your fault. It was too embarrassing to share all the things he’d done so you downplayed it.
Even though she couldn’t do much, Cecilia made you feel heard and offered you her number. “Next time he shows I’ll send my husband down, he’ll straighten the man out.”
At the time, you accepted the slip of paper but declined her offer, worried any action would only make it worse. Now, you wished you had let her help. It’s only 30 minutes until you’re supposed to close up the store and he’s your only customer. It was already dark outside, the few lights that lined the main street flickering to life. You track him as he moves through the store, your foot tapping anxiously against the barstool. You're craning your neck to follow him when the air conditioner kicks in. The jarring, unexpected sound makes you jump and the stool scrapes against the floor loudly. He looks up, the brim of his hat lifting just enough for you to see a flash of his light green eyes and pale face before you look away. You can feel his gaze on you and the memory of his warm breath on your neck when he once stood too close to you resurfaces.
You press a shaking hand over your mouth. Fear and self-doubt war inside, making your early dinner sit like a stone in your stomach. Before you can think too hard about it, you pick up the old phone by the register and pull out the crumpled paper from your pocket. Cecilia answers on the third ring, her soft, familiar voice a comfort as she greets you.
“I hate to bother you so late,” you whisper, twisting the cord of the phone around your finger. “But…” you begin, only to trail off, feeling stupid for calling her. “Nevermind, it’s nothing,” you continue quietly.
“He’s back honey, isn’t he?” She questions, the concern in her voice clear.
“Yes and I’m closing tonight.” You pause and lean to the right, looking past the register to check he’s still in the shop. He's lingering at the front display again, far enough away you can’t exactly tell what he’s doing. “I’m probably blowing this out of proportion–”
She cuts you off with an empathetic sound. “No. You’re not. I’ll send Royal or one of the boys up. Old Mr. Anderson shouldn’t be having a woman closing up all on her own anyhow.”
The relief you feel is immediate but underneath is the ever-present worry that you’re making a bigger deal out of this than you need to. It’s a 20 minute drive into town for whoever she sends to help. What if they thought you were wasting their time, like the sheriff did?
“Cecilia, I…I,” you stammer.
She makes a soft sound and you close your eyes. “It's not a problem, honey. You sit tight.”
After you hang up, the minutes seem to crawl by. You split your time watching the clock and trying to keep track where the man is in the store. It’s hard to concentrate. Every little creak of the old wooden floor and any flash of movement sends an anxious spike of adrenaline through your heart. At 9:55 you stand and lock the register, bending down to retrieve your purse from under it. When you straighten up, the man is standing on the other side of the counter. You flinch and trip back and his hand shoots out to grasp your wrist.
“Woah there, baby girl." He practically purrs the words, sending a shiver of disgust down your spine. “You’re jumpy tonight.”
An automatic apology is tumbling from your lips before you can call it back. He smirks, leaning forward and you tug your hand away, holding it tightly to your body. He stares at you without speaking for a long moment until the bell over the door jingles. He turns immediately, an unhappy tick in his jaw, but you breathe out in relief.
It’s Rhett Abbott, Cecelia’s youngest son. You don’t know him well, never moving past exchanging pleasantries whenever he came into the store or you saw him around town though you nursed a crush on him from afar throughout high school. Tonight he looks like he came straight from work, wearing dirty jeans and a blue button-up shirt over a white henley, sleeves rolled up to expose his tan forearms. He tips his hat when he sees you, cutting his gaze to the man in front of you.
“Think I forgot something,” the man says suddenly, his eyes darting angrily away from you to stare at Rhett. "Why don’t you help your new customer while I go find it."
He takes off down the middle aisle, keeping watch on Rhett’s progress towards you. You know the man is waiting for you to be alone again. The realization kicks up your anxiety even more and you have to clasp your hands together to keep from shaking.
“Hey,” Rhett greets, setting his hat on the counter and leaning forward on his elbows. His hair has grown longer since you last saw him, curling under his tan jaw but his blue eyes are just as intense and beautiful as you remember. “Ma said you got an admirer,” he tells you, a single brow raised. He glances over his shoulder briefly and then returns his attention to you. “I’ll walk you to your car after you lock up.”
“Thank you,” you tell him, slipping the strap of your purse over your shoulder.
Rhett straightens up and you look past him, meeting the pair of pale green eyes that watch you through the shelves. A cold rush of fear washes over your body and you make a little sound, something between a wheeze and whimper. You’re frozen in place, heart beating wildly. Rhett says your name but you can’t make yourself respond until he lays a hand on your arm. You flinch at his soft touch, your scared gaze jumping back to him.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Rhett asks. “Did he do something to you?”
A tear slips down your face, betraying what you want to so desperately hide. You shake your head, staring into his kind eyes and concerned face. You’re afraid that once you start, you won’t be able to stop. Rhett’s face darkens and he rises to his full height. Your arm shoots out, twisting the loose fabric of his open shirt to hold him in place.
“Don’t. Please.”
“Alright, it’s okay,” he soothes, stepping back up to the counter. His hand settles over yours and he squeezes, thumb brushing across the back of your hand. “I’m just gonna ask him to leave, alright? Nothing else.”
“Okay,” you agree, scared for more than just yourself this time. You have no idea what the man might do when confronted or if he would hurt Rhett for trying to help you.
You hold your breath when Rhett walks away, straining to hear whatever quiet conversation he has with the man. You expect him to argue or maybe cause a scene but their conversation is brief. He looks back at you, jaw clenched, and then stalks off towards the front of the store. Rhett follows him to the door, locking it behind him and flipping the sign from open to closed. Despite the clear dismissal to leave, the man remains outside watching.
Rhett makes his way to you, but doesn’t stop at the counter, rounding it to get close enough to lay a hand on your shoulder. His touch is nothing like the man’s; it’s light, meant to soothe and comfort. You stare up at him, watching him frown when he sees the man is still there. In response, Rhett gently pushes you towards the back storeroom until you’re both hidden from the view of the front windows.
Until you’re hidden from him.
“What’s going on?” Rhett asks, careful to keep his tone soft.
Your throat constricts and when you open your mouth, a little sob comes out, your shoulders shaking. Everything you’ve been holding back these past few weeks comes out in an uncontrollable rush. Your breaths come in short little gasps for air, your chest heaving. Rhett looks so alarmed that it only makes you cry harder. He doesn’t seem to know what to do, looking everywhere but at you. Then, after a moment of hesitation, he shifts forward and his strong arms encircle your body.
He holds you against him tightly, one hand coming up to cup the back of your head while other rests along your lower back. You’re not sure if he’s speaking actual words or just making some kind of low sound meant to soothe you. Either way, it works. As the low warble of his voice slowly penetrates your panicked mind, you suck in a deep lungful of air.
“That’s it,” he encourages. “Breathe for me. I got ya. You’re safe.”
You realize for the first time that you actually are safe, protected in his arms. You sag against him and Rhett grunts, absorbing your weight. For several long moments you stay like that, face buried in his chest and his chin resting atop your head. He speaks to you like a spooked animal, but you can't even find in yourself to feel embarrassed. It feels good to be held and reassured when you’ve been scared for so long.
Only after you fall quiet in his arms does Rhett pull back and look at you, searching your face. He doesn’t have to ask the question again, you know what he wants to know.
“I’m sorry,” you start, wiping at your face. There’s a wet patch on Rhett’s shirt from your tears.
“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” he assures you. “Just tell me what’s going on. Did he touch you? Hurt you?” He demands.
“I think he might want to,” you admit quietly. You’re not sure how to tell him just how awful these last few weeks have been. How scared you are. “I went to the Sheriff when it all started…” You trail off and Rhett scoffs, his opinion on the older man clear.
“It started when he began leaving me gifts. They weren’t so bad at first… Then he asked me out. I lied and said I had a boyfriend. I thought he might take that better than me just saying no, but he got scary after that.”
“Scary how?” Rhett presses, forehead wrinkling.
You close your eyes, ashamed.
“You can tell me,” Rhett encourages, a knuckle under your chin tipping your face back. Your skin tingles where he touches you.
“It might be easier to show you…” you tell him, reaching into your purse to pull out your phone.
You unlock it and bring up your camera roll before handing it to him. A muscle in his jaw jumps as he scrolls through the photos of all the gifts the man left you. You’d taken care to document everything on the advice of Deputy Joy, not that the Sheriff cared to look at the evidence.
“Does he know where you live?” He asks.
You shake your head. “I don’t think so. I’ve only found the gifts here.”
“But you’re not sure?” He presses.
“No,” you admit.
“Right, I’m driving you home,” Rhett says, handing your phone back. “I’ll bring you back to get your car tomorrow.”
You want to tell him no, worried about how much of his time you’ve already wasted. He was only here at Cecelia’s insistence, and he probably had a pretty girl waiting for him at The Handsome Gambler.
“You don’t have to,” you tell him.
“I want to,” he assures you,
There’s something in the way he looks at you that bleeds away any argument. “Okay,” you agree.
On the way to his truck, Rhett keeps his hand on your upper back, his body close to yours. His sharp blue eyes survey the empty street as he urges you along. Even though there is no sign of the man you know that doesn’t mean anything. There are pockets of darkness between the buildings and he could be in any one of them.
Watching. Waiting.
When you shiver, Rhett shifts his palm higher on your back, hand curling so his blunt fingernails catch on the patch of skin at the base of your neck. It's such a simple gesture but it does so much to calm you.
“It’s alright, I’m here” he assures, opening the car door and waiting until you’re buckled in before shutting it firmly.
You give him your address and he puts the truck in gear, pulling out onto the empty street. Both of you watch the rear view mirror for any sign of lights or a vehicle. There’s none but you don’t relax. Rhett doesn’t talk, fiddling with the stereo until an old bluesy country song crackles over the radio. A little of your anxiety subsides and you relax into the old leather seats. Every few minutes you can feel his eyes on you, but you stare straight ahead, unused to the weight of someone else's worry.
He slows the truck down when he turns onto your street, searching in the darkness for your house number.
“That’s me.” You point to a two-story house at the end of the street. “I’m on the second floor.”
It’s an older home, dated and frankly falling apart in places. The lady who owned both units, a woman in her 70s named Mabel, gave you a good deal on the rent. It was worth it to have your own space though now, as you stared up at the dark windows with a sense of foreboding spreading through your chest, you wished you didn’t live alone.
Rhett seems to sense your hesitation and reaches out to touch your shoulder. “Want me to come up for a bit? Check it out?"
“It’s silly, I’m sure everything is fine,” you tell him.
“It ain't,” Rhett says earnestly. “You have every right to be scared.”
It’s a relief to have someone take you seriously, but the disquiet in Rhett’s eyes chases away any comfort that knowledge brings because it’s clear he thinks you're in real danger.
“If you don’t mind, maybe you can come up…”
“Give me your keys,” he says, holding out his hand. “Lock the doors after I get out, okay?”
He doesn’t move until he’s sure you’ve heard him. You nod, doing as he asks after he takes off. It’s a long five minutes, waiting in the truck for him to return. You pick at your nails and chew on your upper lip, old anxious habits that give you a little bit of relief, though it’s not until you see him jogging back down that you feel like you can finally breathe.
“It’s all clear, come on,” he says, holding onto your elbow to steady you as you exit the car.
He follows close behind as you walk up the stairs, shutting the front door firmly behind him once you’re both inside. You drop your purse on the couch, eyes wandering around your apartment. It appears the same as you left it this morning but you can’t help looking at everything with fresh, suspicious eyes.
Rhett says your name softly and you turn to face him. He’s watching you, waiting.
“Thank you for everything,” you tell him sincerely, wanting him to understand how much you appreciate his kindness. “For driving me home and for, um, caring.”
You don’t even realize you’re wringing your hands until he steps forward and settles a large hand over yours to stop the nervous tick. The warmth from his touch takes the tension from your shoulders. You stare up at him, just breathing and soaking up his touch. He takes a step closer, saying your name quietly but before he can continue, his phone rings. You jerk back on instinct at the shrill sound, his hand falling away from yours. Rhett purses his lips and looks down at the screen.
“It’s my mother,” he says. “Probably wants to make sure you’re okay.”
“Please tell her thanks.”
Rhett nods. "Hey Ma,” he greets, turning away from you.
You move towards the kitchen, feeling like you should offer him a cup of coffee or at least a beer for the trouble you’ve put him through. You also want to give him some privacy, though the walls are thin and you catch pieces of his conversation anyway.
“Not exactly," you hear Rhett say. "It's worse than she let on.” There's a beat and then he speaks again. “I’m a little worried he might. Thinking I should spend the night outside in my car just in case.” Another pause. “Yeah, I know. Not exactly my first night sleeping in the truck, Ma.”
It’s already cold outside and you know the temperature will continue to drop the later it gets. The thought of Rhett spending the night in his truck for you brings on a fresh wave of self doubt and guilt. You feel like you’re back in the sheriff’s station again, making a big deal out of nothing.
“I got my rifle in the truck. It’s fine,” he continues.
The mention of the gun surprises you, kicking up your heartbeat again. You creep back to the doorway to watch him. His back is to you, one hand parting your lace curtains to look out your window.
“Yeah, I thought so too. I'll see if I can get her to go back to the sheriff with me in the morning."
Anxiety crawls under your skin at the thought of having to face Sheriff Burtt again. He made you feel so small and silly last time, but maybe it would be different with Rhett at your side.
“Okay, love you too, Ma,” he says, hanging up. He seems surprised to see you standing in the doorway though he doesn’t act upset. Instead he looks a little concerned. “You alright?” He asks.
“You don’t have to sit out in the truck for me. It’s… it’s probably okay,” you tell him, even though you don’t exactly believe the words yourself. You want to give him out.
“I’d feel better if I did,” says, closing the distance between the two of you. He slips his hat off and holds it to his chest, making sure he has your attention before continuing. “I want you to come with me to the sheriff’s tomorrow morning. I’m gonna make him listen, okay? We’ll get this handled.”
“I’ll go if you agree to sleep on the couch,” you offer. At least in your apartment he’d be warm and close by.
The corner of his mouth lifts up briefly as he watches you. “You drive a hard bargain, but I can agree to that.”
“I’ll get the spare linens and a pillow for you,” you tell him with a smile.
When you return to the living room he’s back at the window, watching the street outside. His hat sits on your coffee table. You make up the couch as best you can though there’s nothing you can do about the fact he’s too tall to fit comfortably. The realization adds to the guilty feelings you already carry.
“Much better than the truck,” Rhett assures you. “Thanks.”
You nod and leave him to get yourself ready for bed. It’s nearly 11pm and you’re exhausted. As you wash your face and go through your nightly routine, you’re overly aware of how easily every sound travels through the wall. You exchange your work clothes for your well-worn pajamas. Even though that helps you feel better, there’s still that low buzz of apprehension. You close your eyes and see the man’s scary green eyes again.
Your throat tightens in response and you move towards the door before you realize what you’re doing. Quietly, you creep down the hall to the living room, mindful of the rickety floorboards that could give you away. All the lights are off but you can make out Rhett’s sitting on the couch, hands resting on his thighs. He’s removed his blue shirt and wears only his white henley. The barest hint of golden stumble is visible along the sharp lines of his jaw. He sighs and leans back, tucking a hand under his head. The frantic beat of your heart slows and you stand there for several moments watching him.
Eventually, you withdraw and return to your room, sliding under the cool covers. You hardly know Rhett but there’s something about him that makes you believe everything will be okay. With him there sleep comes easy, you know nothing bad will happen to you.
Chapter 2
1K notes · View notes
ficbrish · 3 months
Text
Devotion
[AO3 Link]
[Kinktober 2023 prompt thanks to @absurdthirst! October 27th - Wax Play]
Rating: Explicit 18+ only!
Relevant Tags: Kinktober 2023, bg3 kinktober, One Shot Collection, During Canon, Post-Canon, Vampire Spawn Astarion (Baldur's Gate), Seldarine Drow Durge (Baldur's Gate), Demisexual Astarion (Baldur's Gate), Demisexual Durge (Baldur's Gate), Bisexual Durge (Baldur's Gate), Gender Non-Conforming Durge (Baldur's Gate), Some Plot, Porn with Feelings, Shameless Smut, Kink and Romance, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Some Humor, Vampire Sex, Vampire Bites, Blood Drinking, Dom/sub, Multiple Orgasms, Healing Sex, sex/love addicts healing together, working through trauma, Astarion's Past Abuse (Baldur's Gate), Past Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Fingerfucking, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Wax Play
[[TW/CW: Blood]]
[Click here for my other Kinktober one-shots]
Durge Vistri and Astarion on the night after the graveyard scene, in the Lower City camp church. There are SPOILERS for BG3, Dark Urge, and Astarion under the line!
Astarion could barely articulate himself over his full-chested guffaws, “You are—You are too… Cannot be serious!”
The damp stone of the ruined church crashed with the echo of their voices. Their laughter shouted and bounced between its crumbling walls as if coming from a thousand people, but it was just Astarion with his Vistri.
“It’s true!” she insisted, her voice so full of amusement it went pitchy, “We did!”
Tears were actually streaming down his cheekbones, “Why was I not there?!”
“I don’t know! You were off somewhere.”
“You didn’t wait for me!”
“We couldn’t!” Vistri laughed, “I swear!”
“Then do it again,” Astarion demanded in an even, heated tone. It made them burst apart.
Their cackles smashed crudely across the old stone. Vistri wiped the tears from Astarion’s eyes, her hands shaking with laughter. He grabbed her fingers and kissed them reverently.
“How did you do it?” he asked.
“Shadow,” Vistri collapsed on herself out of hilarity, “Shadowheart and Lae’zel pretended to get into a fight—”
“Pretended?”
“Yes, well, this time.”
“Ah. Do go on.”
“Right. They were shouting over by Wyll, because as you know, Mizora always hangs over by Wyll. Because—”
“Because she’s obsessed with him.”
“Right. Exactly. So,” Vistri broke into giggles again, “So Mizora leaves and—”
“And?” Astarion asked impatiently as Vistri struggled to control herself.
“And when she passed me by! I did a little spell! And… It shoved her stupid, devil panties up her big, blue arse!”
“I hate you!” he howled, laughing.
Vistri was so far gone she collapsed into his chest. If Astarion were to let go now, her face would surely crash into the floor.
“I’m sorry!”
“Without me there!”
“I know!”
“You bitch!”
“I know!”
They sunk to the floor. His knees weakened and his balance collapsed. He fell, and she fell on top of him.
Then there was silence in the church. Only Astarion staring up at Vistri, and Vistri gazing down at Astarion. Their chests danced with heavy breath. He reached up to tuck her little braid behind her ear.
“You are my whole heart,” he whispered.
Vistri shut her eyes, and he reached up to wipe away her tears, “Don’t cry, love.”
She laughed, “It’s so ridiculous! I don’t know why.”
A salty, warm drop landed on Astarion. He let it trickle down his own cheek, leaving a cool trail across his face of her inner life incarnate.
He sat up to hold her better, “Do you have to know?”
Her head shook against his chest.
“That’s all right. Sometimes these things just happen.”
Vistri shut her eyes and found fear woven under layers of her forgotten self. She also found it in Astarion’s care. Somehow those two discoveries were linked, she knew that, but didn’t know what it meant.
Throwing her arms around his neck, clinging like a lost child, she begged him to find her, “I think I might be afraid.”
“Can I tell you a secret, love?”
She nodded and wiped her nose on her arm, for she had no sleeves.
“I’m always afraid.”
He spoke his admittance so close to her trembling lips. She could taste him through his words, and the ache and the void in her both shouted for the salve of him. Vistri leaned in for a kiss. The warmth of it stung her frigid fear.
The moment stilled; they found the stars. His tongue slipped past her lips, and Vistri moaned her acceptance. Now Astarion knew these appetites were truly his, he found himself ravenous.
“Wait,” she interrupted.
“What is it, love?” he asked, his lips lingering on her neck. There was a nasty bite sitting in his fangs with her pulse so near.
“I had a… plan for tonight.”
He nibbled her ear, “Is it a naughty plan?”
Vistri laughed the spikes out of her skin, “A rather silly plan, but one from—Gods!—from the heart.”
Astarion loved when she went all shy, it made her perfect to tease. He chuckled “Please do tell. What does your silly, little plan entail?”
“You’re going to laugh at me.”
“You’ve already made me laugh plenty.”
Vistri rolled her eyes, but she was blushing, “Okay.”
Astarion grinned ridiculously as he helped Vistri to her feet. Her silly, little plan burned inside her pockets. She was discovering so many shades of fear this evening. She thought through this moment so many times it felt casual enough to do for real. Now her thoughts scrambled for a way out, but even with the best excuse, nothing in her wanted to lie to him. Even a tiny deception, after all they’d been through, felt like betraying everything they fostered.
Even at her bravest, Vistri still couldn’t meet his eyes, “I kept something I found in the Shadow-Cursed Lands. I’ve wanted to show you for a while. To share with you...”
Her fist pulled the keepsake from her pocket and stayed shut, “Although, as I warned you, it’s so silly—I just never found the right time.”
A deep breath, and her palm blossomed like a flower; two gold rings sitting at its center.
“…Oh…”
“Please don’t panic!” she said, ignoring her own advice, “I don’t mean it to be that serious.”
Astarion smirked, “Looking to wed me with a delicate veil of blood blooming over my white curls, darling?”
“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”
He shook his head as if the denial was delicious to him, “Never in all my days. I’m just as sure of that as I am of you.”
The impulse to forgive him was blasted away by his sudden outburst of laughter.
“Well, I meant this to be a little serious…”
“No,” he protested, trying his best to regain his composure, “You don’t understand!”
“You said you weren’t going to laugh!”
“I made no such promise, but don’t worry. In a moment, you’ll be laughing too.”
Watching him reach into his pockets, Vistri searched for the punchline. Maybe he was freaked out. Maybe he didn’t understand—
“Turns out, we think quite alike. Eerily similar, really.”
Astarion presented in his palm a different set of rings. Vistri’s mind reeled as a dizzying wave crashed over her.
His confession was shy, even though she’d gone first, “I kept these too. Found them near that Sharran nightmare of a hospital—bleak as it was. Always wanted to show you, but never found the excuse. Until now, you perfect thing.”
Vistri wiped her eyes, scoffing, “Who are we?”
“The kind of people who exchange rings in a church. Apparently,” he giggled.
“Gods, it’s so embarrassing.”
Astarion gathered her face with his free hand and held her close. He kissed the top of her head, feeling her hair on his lips, “Why not be as embarrassing as we can fathom?”
Vistri laughed into his chest, “Okay.”
“So… Uh, what do we do now?”
She cleared her throat, “How about… I’ll give you one of mine, and you’ll give me one of yours. Then we can… Oh, maybe we declare how we feel—Is that dumb? Answer me honest.”
His happiness sang though his eyes, “Every time we reach into our pockets, or look down at our hands, we’ll remember that we belong to each other.”
She almost couldn’t take it when he was this sincere, “Your rings are so much fancier than mine.”
Astarion smiled kindly, “I believe they have a warding bond, so do let me know when you plan to wear it.”
“Wait! But that’s—If I get hurt, then you…?”
“I don’t see how that’s any different. Any scratch on you is a stake through my heart. It’s all the same to me.”
A hard lump thrummed alongside Vistri’s pulse as they fought for occupancy of her throat. There was no space left for sentiments, “Mine don’t do anything special.”
“What made you keep them?”
“They belonged to a local couple—dead now,” she swallowed, “The letters on them… They appeared entirely devoted to one another. A couple of ordinary people, but they—You could just tell they were happy, even though there’s nothing left now but bleached bones.”
“And that made you think of me? Other’s devotions?”
She nodded, ashamed to hear her impulse spoken aloud.
“Then they’re special,” he stated. Astarion had more to say, but the words got caught.
Countless things tugged on her soul, haunted things and resurrected dreams. They crawled out from her arteries like roaches, skittering onto her skin.
“I’m the spawn of a murder god.”
“And I’m the spawn of a vampire lord.”
Vistri shook her head, “You’re your own person now.”
“And I still want to be here. Isn’t that funny?”
“Oh, it’s hilarious.”
That was it, though. Astarion could give his affections freely now his life was his to lead. Bhaal still owned her future, and father didn’t approve. Astarion could dispense promises, but Vistri could only give wishes. It didn’t feel fair; made it harder to take everything in.
“I don’t quite know what living is,” she said, “But I know I want to spend it with you.”
Astarion kissed her, “Put a ring on my finger, love.”
She blinked, recovering from the whirlwind of his kiss, “What should I say?”
“No cheating!” he chided dramatically, “Tell me something you feel and something you promise. I’ll do the same.”
“But I can’t make promises,” she heard herself say.
“And why not?”
“The Urge. It’s still in me.”
“I’d rather be the only dark power inside of you.”
“Astarion!” she giggled.
“What does the Urge have to do with anything? A bit of rope when you feel it coming on, and nobody dies.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Then what is?”
“Could you make promises before Cazador was dead? Really, truly give yourself to anything? Even if you longed for it with your whole heart.”
“Shit.”
“Yes. Exactly.”
Astarion held her tight and thought for a moment. He knew the answer but wanted something different. Even though there was nothing binding in their little theatre, he felt a great sorrow. His freedom didn’t feel the same without hers.
“If you can’t promise, you can’t promise. What else can you do instead?”
Her voice was thick, “I can wish for something. Wishes, I can put my whole heart into.”
He gave the tip of her nose an affectionate peck, “Then we can exchange wishes for now, and save promises for later. Actually—Please allow me one promise. And you don’t even have to return it because you already fulfilled what would be your end of the bargain.”
“…All right.”
“I know-I know it’s bullshit until it happens, but I promise you, you’ll be free of him. As free as I am now. I’ll kill a god if I have to! I don’t know. But I know you won’t be his toy forever, love. And when your life is all yours, on that day, we can make promises together.”
“I think that was three.”
“Vistri.”
“You said one promise.”
He frowned.
“Astarion, I’ll die if I think of it. I can’t hope. I can’t think of it.”
“You won’t die, love, but we can wait if that’s what you want.”
She nodded, “Give me your hand.”
“Oh, right!”
It was like marble, pretty and delicate with a solid strength. His long, pale fingers reminded Vistri of feathers. Art made of nature.
“How I feel about you and a wish?”
“Yes,” he said dryly, “But do make sure it’s only one wish. Otherwise, I’ll come for you.”
Vistri giggled, “I did not come for you!”
Astarion raised his brow, “Really? My mistake.”
“Shush! I’m trying to put together how I feel and you’re teasing me.”
One of his fingers tickled her palm, “Can’t wait to do more than tease you.”
She had to close her eyes and shut him out, or else she wouldn’t make him wait. Vistri knew how she felt, but none of it was in the shape of words. Maybe there was a language out there with some to capture it, but even from the fathomlessness of the Astral Planes, she couldn’t conceive of such a vocabulary existing.
So she settled for her best attempt, “The more you show me, the more I love. Knowing you… Every bit I see, I cherish. You are my favorite thing about the world, and-and I want you. Astarion, I want all of you.”
His tone was warmly strained, “And what do you wish?”
“For our lives to be blended, always. No matter what happens, I wish to never be rid of you.”
Her hands shook as she slipped one of her gold rings onto his finger. After finding which it fit, Vistri lifted it to her lips to bless it.
Emotion clouded his speech, “Thank you. Here let me put the other one on you too.”
They didn’t linger in the moment because they couldn’t. One glance at their matching gilded hands was like a peak at the sun, and their eyes burned from it.
Astarion still had to mark the moment before moving on, “It’s kind of like we’re wearing your heart on our fingers, isn’t it?”
Vistri laughed out of happiness.
“Let’s add mine then, shall we?” he asked, taking hold of her other hand.
“I kept these because I want to protect you. I didn’t tell you about them because I figured you’d never agree. At first. Then I felt too much to give them. Honestly, they’d probably just rot away in a drawer for centuries if you hadn’t brought yours out first. So, thank you for being braver than I. And for being patient with me. And so kind.”
“You taught me how to be all of those things.”
“I was there as you learned along the way. You, my dear, cultivated all that yourself. It’s why I love you so. Or part of why. It’s rather inexplicable actually, which makes the part where I tell you how I feel a bit difficult. How could I possibly capture all of it in the turn of a phrase?”
“Right? It’s so hard!”
“You made it seem so easy,” he giggled, “I’m just so happy that I don’t know what to say. I’m still getting to know what that is, happy, but you’re the one who first introduced it. Actually… That’s my wish. To learn enough that I can tell you. I’ll discover every detail and translate for you; whisper it into your ears every night. That’s what I feel, and that’s what I wish.”
He put the ring on Vistri that would hurt him the next time anyone dared harm her. Astarion would take the hit, even if it were from Bhaal himself. Then she dressed him with the other of the bonded pair. Now they had her heart on one hand and his on the other. Seeing the rings felt the same as when they took each other over his grave once he decided to live again.
“I’m yours now,” Astarion promised.
Vistri threw her arms around his neck, “I was always yours.”
To Astarion, Vistri was the light you see before death, and it brought him back to life. Unreal and bright, like an ideal end to a story; bliss shouted over the blight of his past, and he surrendered to its ebullience. It welled in his eyes, and she kissed it away. He brought her face closer and tasted her mouth before touching her lips. Dissolving self into an ‘us’, they slipped their tongues onto each other, slipped hands under cloth to meet the cool skin underneath.
He picked her up and sat her upon the altar, and possessed, they moaned. Helpless to whatever would happen next, each touch spurred another touch. Every taste only provoked their appetites. Powerless to the miracle of each other, they surrendered to it together.
Astarion leaned forward and crawled to her kiss.
She eagerly gave it, then stole her tongue away to remark, “Good thing our families aren’t here.”
His laughter barked through the church, bouncing down the empty aisles.
Vistri grabbed the front of his shirt to pull him back in, to devour him. He met her with a deep “mmmppphh” that she could feel the buzz of along her teeth. His intoxicating taste was the only thing she ever wanted for the rest of time. Astarion didn’t realize how lucky he was, not having to breathe. Vistri always had to eventually pull away.
“I love you,” slipped out of her so naturally, and used to be so hard to say. It was like taking flight.
Astarion kissed her, over and over, before saying it back.
“I have no gods,” he whispered softly against her jaw, “But I can worship you.”
Vistri yelped from the want that clenched around her like a vice, and she squirmed under his chest.
“I’ll have no sovereign,” she panted, “But I can devote myself to you.”
Astarion smiled so widely it broke their kiss, “You are the most precious thing.”
He stood up and surveyed her with a wild look of affection mixed with lust. Candlelight flickered against the glint in his eye. Then he turned to the long-forgotten, burning votive candles at their side, and told her—
“I have an idea.”
Vistri slipped her tunic off, exposing her back and chest to the cold stone altar.
“I think I like your idea,” she said, having followed the trajectory of his eyes.
“Lie back, darling.”
The candles dripped onto Astarion’s hands before their melted wax met Vistri’s soft stomach. He gritted his teeth and made no sounds. She cried out and laughed heatedly.
A little drop of it on her hip, a button over solid bone. A little stab of a burn that faded fast. As the lightness of pain left her, Astarion caressed her other hip, a gentle tease of his feathery finger. Vistri felt her heart expose itself a bit more with every drop and subsequent caress.
She unraveled as he lowered himself, kneeling. Her belly and hips were decorated with dried wax, and having left a satisfactory painting, Astarion tore her trousers off. Lustily, he trailed his mouth along the inside of her leg. As his touch on her skin cooled in the absence of his tongue, he tipped the dying candle to drip wet heat onto her shivering thigh.
Vistri yelped and Astarion kissed her, slowly, just above the knee.
“Does that hurt, love?”
“A little.”
“Do you like when it hurts?”
Vistri outstretched her arms. She ran her fingers through his hair, tangling herself in it. His fangs scraped along her skin, and she pulled his hair, dragging his face up and down her thigh. Astarion knew his hunger would never best him, but he trembled from the fight.
“I love it when it hurts.
He groaned, a stumble in his control that provided such relief raw emotion escaped it like steam.
Stroking his curls, she begged, “Bite me.”
His armed linked around her thigh like a serpent. Vistri gasped, feeling his teeth pierce the most vulnerable spot, the part prey should never expose to a predator. And he drank her up, sucked her down. Vistri felt the weakness in her head as she gave herself as sacrifice to his ecstasy.
“Take me,” she moaned, rolling her hips; draping her other leg over his shoulder.
He gulped her down with a whimper, then pulled back with a whine. His bloody grin was more warm than devilish. She wanted to see more of it; felt excitement at the prospect of coming days filled with it.
Astarion kissed his bloody bite mark and licked up the mess. Vistri leaned back as his tongue travelled further upwards. When it found her center, he looped his elbows under her knees, and gave it a kiss.
Vistri cried out his name, and the stone shouted it back to them. He felt her nails skate across his scalp and onto his ears. When she grew louder than he knew she wanted to be, Astarion added his fingers to her sweet torment. His sucking and stretching radiated into a beam that made existing in her body something good for once.
“That’s it, love,” he murmured along her folds, “Be a dear and die a little for me.”
Her body took his words as an imperative. The ruined stone around them hadn’t sheltered such praises for decades.
Vistri sat to kiss him with abandon. His hands worked at his tunic, and she helped him out of it. Then off went his breeches and stockings. Naked and trembling, Astarion joined her on the altar. Bodies intertwined; they reached a state of perfection.
Perhaps they were the gods this church was rotting away for.
Vistri rolled out from under him. Straddling him, she looked down and surveyed her beloved. He twitched and shuddered pleasantly as she teased him with a gradual grind of her hips. Hard and unsatisfied, the slow movement against him was equal parts pleasure and torture.
She reached out with a finger to trace his lips, “Whenever I look at you, devotion becomes my favorite word.”
Astarion brought her finger into his mouth, curling the tip of his tongue around it.
“It’s a higher form of love, you see. Most people only give such a thing to gods. It’s when you dedicate yourself, body and soul, to something else. A paladin’s oath. I never wanted to be Bhaal’s chosen, but there isn’t a moment where I don’t wish to be yours.”
He was coming apart underneath her, “Vistri…”
“I love you, and I can’t believe I found you.”
His grip on her thighs tightened enough for her to gasp. He panted, “Take me.”
Doing so all at once, he tore through her like a blade. She needed more, and raised herself for another fall, again and again. Astarion moaned freely under her, not trapped but released; his voice like that of a chanting priest blessing an offering.
Having just feasted on her dragon, god blood, Astarion grew too restless to lie there and take it. He didn’t want to spoil such a splendid sight, but he needed somewhere to put all the power roiling through him. He sat up, embracing her writhing form. Overpowering her rhythm, he wrested control; holding Vistri tight in his lap, rutting into her.
Astarion knew her ecstasy by her breath before he felt her pulse and squeeze around him. Her shouts rumbled under his tongue as he licked her neck. His eyes began to roll back, but he held on to watch her die another few deaths.
“You belong to me now, darling,” he said, “For as long as you wish.”
“I wish it. I wish it.”
“Do you love me?”
“I love you.”
“And who are you devoted to?”
“You, Astarion. Devoted to you.”
“Oh, I know that. Tell me again.”
“Devoted… to yo—Hah—you!”
He flipped her over like a cat with its plaything. On her side a while, then her back.
“Look at me,” he said, and she lost herself. Astarion tumbled into the unknowing with her. Who they were peeled away, leaving only how they felt.
Breath was their last offering to the altar. Reality returned with their clothes, but they brought their fantasy back with them. Their feelings and wishes sat solidly on each other’s fingers and beat life in their chests.
Not wanting to leave the church yet, they sat up against the altar and each other.
“You know,” Astarion remarked, “I thought last night was the best one of my life until tonight.”
Vistri’s muscles were still getting used to smiling so wide, “Every day with you is better than the last.”
He kissed her forehead, “Can’t wait to see tomorrow.”
[Click here for my other Kinktober one-shots]
30 notes · View notes
applejuicefruit · 9 months
Note
I love the way you write it's AMAZING! For real though right now my comfort fics are written by you, I hope you realize how appreciated you are <33
I also noticed that requests are open. Can I request an erling haaland angst? Smth like he loves reader but she's with someone else and he cannot stand it? You can do some jealousy and a happy ending your choice ♡♡
sorry for the happy ending part because this is pure angst 😩😩
also recommending this song !
erling haaland x reader
Tumblr media
Promise you’ll lie
promise you’ll lie
promise you’ll lie
everything that erling dreamt about was having you by his side. not that you weren’t by his side, you were like brother and sister but he wanted more.
he wanted to wake up next to you every morning, he wanted to make love to you while the sun was shining outside, he wanted to hold you when you had a bad day and he wanted to surprise you or spoil you with random gifts but he knew he couldn’t have it.
you had sleepovers every weekend, it was something that started when you were kids and even if you got older that’s something that never left your weekly list.
but for him, it wasn’t the same having sleepovers with you and sleeping with you. he loved you and you had no idea.
when you were younger you got a crush for erling, more than a crush. but you were young, barely sixteen and you had no idea what love meant.
you knew you couldn’t have him the way you wanted, he never looked at you in that way. but you stayed closed to him and supported him in every way you could. you never missed his games or his interviews or his parties, you were always there for him.
as you got older you tried to find love somewhere else and even if it got a little harder, one day you met someone who really showed you what love meant.
he was kind and patient with you, taking things slow, showing you love and respect and now, two years later you were engaged. you were the happiest woman on earth and you thought that erling was happy for you too but since the engagement announcement he started avoiding you, saying he had things to do with football or sponsors and you got tired of his childish behaviour so one day you decided to confront him about it.
you were currently in his apartment, asking him for an explanation but he looked anything but happy to see you.
“erling, you’re my best friend…i truly don’t get it” you told him.
“i know!” he shouted back.
“why are you mad at me? what have i done to you?” you asked him, on the verge of crying because in all of your years of friendship you never fought this bad.
“i’m not mad at you y/n, i’m mad at me!”
“what? erling please…what is going on?” you asked him again.
“i’m mad at me because in all of these years i never had the courage to tell you how much i love you! i love you y/n and i’m such an idiot for telling you this right after your engagement because i can see how happy you are with him and how much he loves you” it was erling the one who was crying now.
“you love me?” you whispered.
“i do, i love you so much…i want to be the man you wake up next to in the morning, i want to be the man who hold you when you cry or when you have a bad day and i want to be the one who dry your tears…i want to make love to you and show you how much you mean to me…but i know i can’t have that” he said trying to avoid his look because you were speechless.
“i know this is a lot to take in…you just needed to know…” he whispered.
i know i can’t help if you meet someone else
“erling i…” you whispered, no idea of what you were going to say.
“i know i just fucked up our friendship but you deserved to know it…”
“no, you didn’t fucked up our friendship because i can’t imagine a life where you are not here with me…these days without hearing a word from you were the hardest…i need you in my life erling, but not in the way you want me to, i’m sorry…” you apologised knowing you just broke his heart.
“i know…” he was hurting “i know…it will be hard but i’ll always be by your side y/n…you’re still my best friend after all” he wanted to call you love and not best friend but if he had to choose between having you as a friend or not having you at all he chose to have you as a friend because he couldn’t live a life where you weren’t there. 
“okay…i’ll see you tomorrow then? for our brunch?” you asked him, trying to make everything normal again.
“sure” he smiled even if all he wanted to do was crying and screaming.
with those words you left his apartment with heavy heart. 
did you made the right decision? 
what if you were going to regret your wedding? 
no, you loved your boyfriend, you wouldn’t choose it in any other way. 
you can tell him that you love him as long as it’s a lie.
promise you’ll lie, promise you’ll lie.
57 notes · View notes
captain-mj · 10 months
Text
Iced Latte
Dedicated to my Jason's lovers. Soap and Ghost also finally make progress
“You cannot be fucking serious, Simon.” Jason was staring at Ghost like he was an idiot. And maybe he was. 
“Listen, he’s a selkie.”
“He’s playing you. Again. And you’re letting him. You’re letting him play you.” Jason shook his head. “Look, I get you’re self destructive”
“It’s not like that.” 
Jason kept going like he didn’t interrupt him. “And you don’t take care of yourself. I also understand you’re hurting okay? But this isn’t the solution.”
Ghost sighed. “Jason.”
“I miss Tommy too okay? I miss him too. But you can’t just keep throwing your life away like this. Is this what he would’ve wanted?”
“Like you’re any better, junkie.” 
Jason flinched. 
“You said you’d get sober. I can’t remember the last time I saw you not strung out.”
“Fuck you Simon.” 
“When was the last time you even talked to him? Did you even meet Joseph? How the fuck do you think you understand what I’m going through? I came to you for help.” 
Jason stared up at him, suddenly looking his height. Too short. Too thin. Painfully small. He teared up, hugging himself tight. “Don’t make me lose you too.” 
Ghost remembered their conversation a few nights before. Jason’s soft ask that he just didn’t die. 
“Jason.” 
“Ghost. Don’t make me lose you too.” He shook like a leaf. “You’re right. You’re right. I’ll do better. Be better. Just…”
Ghost watched him break down silently, feeling too much like a voyeur. 
“I wanted to visit. I wanted to tell him how happy I was he got better. I swear I did, but I didn’t… I didn’t want to make him relapse. I didn’t want to drag him back into it. I was his fucking drug dealer.”
“You were his friend.” 
Jason shook his head. “I miss him so much and I never… I never told him I was proud. I never got to see him clean.” He sobbed so hard he hiccuped. “I didn’t want you to see me cry. I never wanted you to have to deal with me of all people. But then you disappeared. And I thought you were gone too.” 
Ghost reached out, not wanting to be touched, but also not sure how he could handle not hugging Jason. 
Jason put his head on Ghost’s shoulder and hugged him. He sniffled and looked pathetic. 
“I’m sorry for calling you a junkie.”
“I’m sorry for making this about me.” 
“Jason. Come on now. I’d never fault you for crying.” Ghost rubbed his back. 
Jason shook his head and clung to Ghost for a few minutes. “Fine.”
“Fine what?”
“I will be stupid as fuck with you and do a heist to steal a coat that may or may not set the man who broke your heart free.”
“He did not break my heart.”
“You played Paramore while you laid on the floor.” Jason pulled away and patted his shoulder. “You were heartbroken.” 
Ghost sighed. “Alright. A little.” 
“You’re a bit soft, Simon. It’s alright.” 
Ghost shook his head and shoved him a little farther away. “Alright. So you understand what you have to do?”
“Yes!”
“Wayne will be gone this weekend according to Soap so we have to do it before then.”
“Why?”
“To make sure he doesn’t take the coat with him. If he takes it with him, I’ll have to wait until we’re on the same base again.”
Jason nodded. “And what about Soap?”
“I’ll handle Soap. I’ll have to make sure he stays distracted so you have plenty of time.”
Jason nodded. “Alright, Simon. Alright.” 
-
Ghost talked with Soap at the coffeeshop. He looked so excited, leaning over the counter to talk to him. All of his attention was on Ghost and it made him feel warm. 
God, I love you. Ghost thought helplessly. How tragic. How terrible Being loved by Ghost was a curse. 
Soap smiled and although neither knew, anyone else who saw them knew that Soap was thinking of the exact same thing. How being loved by Soap was a curse that he selfishly, selflessly, purposefully and accidentally inflicted on Ghost. 
“Johnny.”
“Simon.” 
“Make me a random drink?”
Soap smiled, but the dark circles under his eyes gave away that he wasn’t doing too well right now. “Ever had an iced latte? Little plain but classic.”
Ghost had several times before. “Nope. I’ll try it.” 
Soap hummed as he fixed it. Ghost noted he used oat milk, though it wasn’t clear why he did. He set the cup in front of him and he waited for Ghost’s reaction. 
“Good.”
“Good…” Soap echoed, looking at him so softly. 
Ghost blushed and he was glad the mask covered most of his face. 
He stayed and made sure to distract Soap when he went to leave during his break, instead taking up all his time so he couldn’t go home. Ghost tried to get him to agree to a date afterwards, but that didn’t work so he had to walk him home and distract him as often as possible. He managed to drag out the five minute walk into almost twenty before Soap smiled at him. 
“Ghost. What are you doing?”
Ghost stared at him while Soap stared back. It clicked that there was more to this. 
“Ghost… If I go home, what am I going to see? Did you hurt Wayne?” He didn’t sound as upset about that as he possibly should be.
“No. I haven’t hurt anyone.”
Soap started to rush home and Ghost followed. “It’s okay. You said Wayne would be out today.”
“Yes, but I don’t know when he’d come home! If there’s someone in my house…” Soap trailed off at the open door and Ghost suddenly got a sinking feeling. He didn’t want to go in the house. Just in case. Just in case. 
He didn’t want to see more blood on his leave. 
But they stepped inside anyway. 
Wayne had his gun out and Jason had the coat. The two stared at each other and Jason had every right to back down. Give him back the coat and move on. 
Instead, he let Wayne shoot him right in his stomach, careful not to hit the coat in his arms. Blood still got on it. 
Ghost felt the world sinking. And then his hands were bloody. He felt hands scratching at his shoulders and someone calmly telling 911 what was happening. 
The man in front of him was telling him it would all be okay. He spoke spanish. He called him something that didn’t make sense. Ghost’s bones hurt. His chest ached. Blood on the ground. His blood. His family’s. His little brother’s. Everything hurt. 
Soap yanked him off Wayne and started to shove him. “Get out. Get lost. If the police catch you here, it’ll be harder to explain.” 
“Bu-”
“GO!” Soap shoved him and Ghost backed up, nodding. He shoved the coat in Ghost’s arms. “Just call for me. I’ll be there, yeah?”
“You’ll be there.” 
Taglist: @the-snarky-dragon @elevenclouds @lukewarm-chickensoup @nervouspsychologynerd @korym @cthulhusstepmom @princess-heathen @revenge-of-the-bucket-demon @roachboy @shadowsnowberry @crazies-unanimous @shiftylookingcrow @joltom @xenomorphee3 @thedeepvoidinmyheart
117 notes · View notes
fieldofdaisiies · 1 year
Text
Ithan x Reader | Rude Boy
type: angst, suggestive warning(s): cursing, nightclub, alcohol consumption, vulgar wording word count: 2.6k words request: Omg omg since ur writing for ithan holstrom i was wondering if you would write like a second chance fic with like a lot of angst and like them being broken up, she's tryna get over him, and he is possessive so she dirty dances with any of the other guys like flynn or tharion and he's just like get the fuck off my girl like huh?
- all rights reserved -
Tumblr media
“And what does that mean now?” “That I cannot stand it anymore,” Ithan growls, his jaw tense, his expression so very angry. 
“So you are breaking up with me?”
“Yes, I am.” Ithan shudders when he turns away from you, only to turn back at you, glowering. “You never have time for him. Everything else is more important than me. Your studies, your friends, your work, even your guy best friends.”
You don’t have guy best friends. The most you have are Danaan and Flynn as your friends but you only met them through Lidia and only befriended them through her and through your relationship with Ithan. But they are not your guy best friends, they are friends and that is it. You also only ever spend time with them when all of your are together.
“That is not true,” you say, your voice quivering. Your feel your lower lip tremble, your lashes dampening. “I was just busy this last week.” “And the week before. And before that as well.” Ithan pauses, his chest heaving with deep inhales. “If you no longer wanted to spend time with me, you should have just said so.”
“That is not true.”
It was the last conversation you had with Ithan, packing your things on that day and leaving his place. Crying you return to your own apartment, the one you share with Lidia Cervos. She is sitting on the living room couch, her legs thrown over Ruhn’s lap, both of them laughing loudly. Your heart cracks open once again, a sob parting your lips.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” you breath out, dashing through the corridor, back to your room, nearly stumbling over your own feet and the bags filled with things you had at Ithan’s place. Slamming the door shut behind you, you fall face forward into the bed, letting your tears run free, your weeps muffled by the pillow that slowly gets wet from your tears. A door falls close somewhere in the flat and you assume Lidia and Ruhn have gone to her room. But you thought wrong, as a soft knock sounds at your door a moment later and soon the door is opened.
“Y/N?” Lidia’s voice fills the room and your hear her walk in. You lift your head, your blurry vision hindering you from seeing the expression of her face. But you have a feeling it is pained. You and Lidia have gotten extremely close over the past years, you have helped her a lot to get out of the relationship with Pollux, offered her a place to stay and protected her, kept her safe when he showed up here. Her heart breaks when another sob slips through your lips and she hurdles over to you, sitting down the bed and cradles your face in her hands. “Oh baby, what has happened?”
Lidia swings her legs onto the bed, leaning against the headboard, her hands not leaving your face.
“Ithan and I…” A cry cuts your off and you bring your hand up, wiping the back of it over your face, under your nose. “We broke up,” you bubble, shaking your head. 
Lidia looks shocked, her eyes going wide, her lips parting. She has always pointed out what a beautiful couple you are, how perfectly you fit. She has been the one to get the two of you together, having loved the thought of one of her best friends dating one of her boyfriend’s friends. And you have been a beautiful couple, but apperently Ithan decided to throw it all away because of his jealousy or whatever. Maybe he had his reasons, but he did not tell you them.
“Why?” Lidia asks carefully, lying down on the bed next to you. You shift a little, cuddling up to her, your head in the crook of her neck, her arm around you, hand softly stroking your back. 
“I don’t know,” you breathe, tasting the salty tears in your mouth. “He said I did not spend enough time with him. That I rather spend time with everyone else but him.”
Lidia huffs loudly and gives her head a little shake — as good as it possible why lying. “That is bullshit, you have been at his place every weekend.”
“That was not enough I think.” You brush your face over her shoulder, feeling a little guilty as there is already a damp spot on her shirt. “You think he really does not laugh me anymore?”
Lidia turns her head a little. “I think he still loves you a lot. He loved you so much before, he would not just stop loving you. I think he might have different reasons.”
And he had, but you only find out about them later, for now your are bathing in your pain, the ache in your chest only getting more rather than vanishing. 
Lidia stays with you that night, holding you in her embrace the whole night and letting you sob until you have no tears left to cry. 
You wake up in the morning with red puffy eyes, your face swollen and your throat dry. Lidia and you have breakfast together, and later you make yourself a girls day, filled with face masks, and nail care and movies. She tells you that she sent Ruhn away last night, telling him that you were her priority then and he understood. He understood. He understood other than Ithan, that there sometimes are other priorities but that she still loved him the same way. 
It is a week after your breakup when Lidia is once again in your room, rummaging around in your closet. “That one?” She tosses a bright red and way too short dress at you and you huff a no.
“Well then that one?” Now a black dress comes flying at you and Lidia throws you a warning look when she leans backwards and looks at you around the door of your closet. 
You pick the dress up and look at it, it has low cut outs and some transparent pieces. You pull one shoulder up, shrugging a little. “I am not sure.” You are not sure for more than one reason. You don’t feel yourself so much after the breakup with Ithan, you don’t know if you will feel comfortable and secondly, it was Ithan's favourite dress on you. Would this just rip open the wounds again? You aren’t sure, but when you meet Lidia’s pleading eyes you say yes. It is Ruhn’s birthday party — he is celebrating at a club and you really did not want to go but Lidia was persistent, saying you need to get out again, mingle a little and really need the distraction. So you agreed. She also said she would really like to have you there, not yet having fully connected with Bryce and would love to have her best friend with her. So you agreed not wanting her to be alone, but in the back of your mind regret takes root. You know Ithan will be there as well. Ruhn was his friend, he was definitely invited. 
A cab drops you off at the venue, a long lineup of club goers already waiting to get inside. But Lidia takes your hand, pulling you past those people, past the people smoking outside the club, until you come to a halt in front of the door and a big Hulk-like male that gives the two of you a once over. 
“We are on the guest list for Ruhn Danaan,” Lidia says casually. The man checks but still asks to see your IDs. He checks them as well and lets you pass with the wave of his hand. 
You heart is thrumming in your chest when you follow Lidia through the crowd of dancing people, strobe lights flash from above and all around you, otherwise the club would be completely dim. 
“He is here!” you shout to your best friend over the loud music, pointing forward, your heart now beating in your throat. 
“I know, I am sorry, Y/N,” Lidia says, squeezing your hand tightly while pulling you with her. Seeing Ithan would anyway be inevitable, but still your stomach churns as you have no idea how to approach him. Would you two speak?
Ithan’s eyes, full of pain and an emotion you cannot quite place, land on you the moment you get up the VIP area and Lidia greets her boyfriend with a passionate kiss. YOu obviously follow, wishing him all the best for his birthday before greeting the others. 
Ithan watches you with a stoic expression when you wave your hand at him. He does not greet you, just looks at you and your heart cracks open. It is like he is blaming you. Like you made a mistake while he was the one to break up with you. Tipping his glass to his lips he downs it in one gulp. 
You are getting angry, your gaze holding his until arms wrap around your waist from behind you.
Tristan’s head appears next you and he beams. “Hello, beautiful. Haven't see you in a while, how are you?”
“Fine,” you mumbled, trying to turn in his hold or rather leave his embrace. But then—
“You want to dance?”
“I was just about to offer you a drink,” —Tristan holds up two glasses—- “but dancing sounds like fun.”
“Drinking as well. Thank you!” You take the glass from his hands, clink his with it and then down it in one. He does the same. 
If Ithan thinks that you spend too much time with the other boys, which was bullshit, you would show him how much you love spending time with them. It was super silly and on the edge of childish, but he had no right to be pissed right then, he was the one who broke up with you. 
You follow Tristan who is holding you hand onto the dance floor, he turns you to him, grinning brightly. "I assume we are trying to make wolf-boy jealous?”
“He is already jealous,” you groan, moving your hands up chest his chest, feeling his strong muscles underneath the shirt while his own hands find their place on your waist. 
“Yeah, but I think we are just adding oil to the fire.” A wicked glint appears in Tristan’s, his hands just moving his hands a little lower. “He has been miserable the past week,” Tristan shouts, leaning in, his lips brushing your ear.
“He broke up with me, you remember?” You tip your head to the side, eyes widening.
“I know, but you know why?” “Because apperently I have neglected him,” you grumble.
“Hmm.” You shake your head. 
He takes one hand of yours into his, swirling you away from him. Your hair shifts over your shoulder and lifts. Irritation coats your insides, but still you force a grin to your lips. Wanting Ithan to hurt just like you did — although you actually don't it. You don’t really know what you want. (imagine rude boy by Rihanna playing)
Flynn pulls you back to him while you sing a long to the text. Through the crowd you directly meet Ithan’s gaze, he has already been looking at you —glowering. Anger is etched into his features, his eyes like burning coals. 
Come here rude boy, boy
Is you big enough?
Tristan turns you a little, pulling you closer to him, his hands come to rest on your waist. You move your hands up, your butt grinding a little against his front. You continue singing, your eyes are closed. 
Come here rude boy, boy
Can you get it up?
But when you open your eyes again, you don’t see Ithan anymore. Has he left? Have you taken it too far?
You clamp down on the regret that bubbles up inside of you and turn back to Tristan, hands sliding up to his neck. 
“He has left,” you say matter-of-factly. Tristan parts his lips but right when he wants to say something, you feel another pair of hands on your hips.
“Fuck off, Flynn, get away from my girl!” Ithan growls behind you and you are pulled back towards his hard chest. You startle, fuming. “I am no longer your girl, Ithan!” you growl out when your head whips to him.
It looks like all life whooshes out of him, his eyes widen, his lower lip trembling. “We need to talk,”he shouts over the music, but you shake your head.
“Don’t tell me what I have to do!”
Ithan turns you in his hold, eyes full of pain when they catch your gaze. “Please, let us talk.”
Slowly you find yourself nodding, hurt radiating from every fiber of his body. “Okay,” you said and lean upwards a little, his scent of cologne, of wood and nature filling your nostrils. 
Ithan lets you lead, you guiding the two of you through the crowd of people until your are outside where people are lingering on the fringes, smoking. 
You try to find a place that is not so full of people and so you stop right next to the wall of the building, leaning against it and crossing your arms over your chest. 
“Now?” You raise a brow.
“Forgive me please,” Ithan says, his voice quivering and hoarse. He braces his hands on the wall beside you, leaning closer. 
“All of a sudden? Did it really need Tristan and me dancing that you realise you made a mistake?” Ithan’s throat works on a swallow, will fury blazes through your veins. You glare at him, feeling tears burn behind your eyes. 
“No,” Ithan bites out, his hand forming a fist and he punches the wall a little. “Please, forgive me. I have been such an idiot. It all got too much. The weekend I broke up with you was the anniversary of Connor’s death. I just couldn’t handle my emotions. And then you went out with Lidia instead of me and helped Ruhn choose a birthday cake and I just once again felt like everyone I love is leaving me.”
A tears runs out of Ithan’s eye and your heart shatters. You place your hands on his shoulders, squeezing them. “Oh Ithan,” you breathe. Ithan’s mask slowly cracks open further, his lips quivering, his hands trembling. “You should have told me,” you say in a low voice, your own eyes watering.
“I tried to. But I thought you no longer loved me and I would just break up so you are not leaving me. It was stupid and selfish.”
“You are right it was stupid, but not selfish. You wanted to break you heart, Ithan. Oh gods!” You pull on his shoulders, bringing him closer to you, before curling your arms around his neck. 
“Why didn’t you tell me about the anniversary of Connor’s death.”
Ithan exhales loudly into the crook of your neck, his tears falling to your skin. “I did not want you to see me so weak.”
“Ithan you are my boyfriend, I want to see all of you. You are not weak if you mourn your brother’s death.” 
He pulls back a little, staring at you with big, pain-filled eyes. Another tears slips out of the corner and you quickly brush your thumb over it. “You boyfriend?” he whispers, the corner of his mouth tipping upwards. “So I am forgiven.”
“You shattered my heart into pieces, there is a lot more you have to do to make up for it, but yes, you are a little tiny bit forgiven.”
“I can promise some making up tonight. You are coming back home with me, yes?”
You smile at him. “Yes, but only if you promise that we talk about things from now on. Everything. I want you to share with me what you are feeling, what you are going through. I want you to talk to me about Connor. I don’t want you have to deal with that all alone.”
Ithan inclines his head and then leans in to kiss your forehead. “I promise I will!”
~~~~~~~~~~
tags: @headcanonheadcase @azrielsbabyg @randomness-it-is  @brekkershadowsinger 
109 notes · View notes
dawnagustd · 2 years
Text
the matrimony || myg
Tumblr media
⇢ pairing: yoongi x poc!reader ⇢ genre: a drop of angst, fluff, smut, marriage au, wedding day au  ⇢ summary: marriage isn’t always rainbows and sunshine. sometimes it gets a little rough. ⇢ word count: 2.8k ⇢ warnings: mentions anxiety, mentions alcohol, yoongi really wants to go to vegas, crying(not the kinky kind), unprotected sex, bdsm themes, switch!reader, sub!yoongi, flogging, impact play(self pussy slapping), collars, leashes/chains, restraints/handcuffs, nipple/breasts play, blindfolds, sensory deprivation, orgasm control/denial, oral sex, face riding, deep throating, gagging, dirty talk, biting, marking, hair pulling, squirting, overstimulation, creampie, cum eating, spitting, aftercare, cliffhanger ending??(only because i don’t want to get yelled at), i think that’s all.
⇢ rating: 18+
⇢ a/n: this is half edited because i didn’t have enough time. i don’t know what to say other than life is sweet in delulu land. i wrote this faster than i ever wrote anything. anyway, i’ll stop talking because there’s just no way i can explain this lol. read part one here. 
Tumblr media
“Will you finally let me say it?”
Your husband sways you both back and forth as you dance to the sensual tune of Sade’s “By Your Side.” Neither of you love dancing, but for your dear parents, you’ll put on a show. You let him lead, of course, because you don’t trust yourself after a few glasses of champagne. This reception might turn into a nightclub if you’re in control.
“Only if you tell me what my dad was whispering about,” you challenge, earning a small chuckle from Yoongi.
He withdraws slightly to look down at you, only to find you staring at him already. It’s so easy to forget everyone else in the room when you’re this attuned with each other. Only seconds pass before you’re intoxicated in the dark hue of his rich and soulful irises.
“We really should go to Vegas because you’re good at this.”
You roll your eyes playfully. “Oh, stop avoiding the question. I’m only curious.”
“Indeed,” he sighs, spinning you around so that your back is pressed against him. “He just wanted me to know that seeing my bride before the wedding is said to bring bad luck.”
Yoongi leans down to kiss your cheek, but you turn at the last second so that his lips touch yours instead , earning you a wink before he lifts his head. “But…he says that if I’d never seen you before, then there wouldn’t be a wedding in the first place.”
The both of you laugh at the joke as the song changes into something more upbeat, causing the crowd to fill up the dancefloor. Soon you fall silent and Yoongi’s question resurfaces.
“So, now can I say it?”
You huff, but you cannot deny the smile threatening to expose itself. “Yes, Yoongi. But don’t get carried away.”
He shouts a small but victorious yes before he takes your hand and gently turns you around so he can see your face. Even though the music is lively, you both stand still with admiration and love dancing in your eyes. Yoongi takes a deep breath and says the one thing he’s been dying to tell you all night, though he kept it to himself out of respect for you and your struggles with anxiety.
“You look so beautiful.” Your husband pulls you so close that he has to gaze down at you through his thick lashes. “I only kept myself together, because I know you needed me to be strong, but I–”
“You don’t have to say it, Yoongi,” you intervene. 
“I do.” Yoongi brings your head to his chest, and you mold into him while his chin rests atop your head. He sighs before speaking, and you don’t have to see his face to know that it’s slightly dampened with fresh droplets. “I’m not used to relationships or stability, but for you, I’ll give it my all. Tonight, though, seeing you walk down the aisle, hearing you recite your vows, and knowing the meaning behind your words; it almost broke me, baby.”
“It’s okay to be weak sometimes, Yoongi. You’re human.” You feel his hand travel up to his face to wipe away his tears. 
When your hand slips beneath his tuxedo jacket, he relaxes under your touch, and your palm draws soothing circles upon his back. “I’m supposed to protect you. You’re my wife. I’ll always be the strong one.”
Aston Martin Music begins to play and you both find the rhythm again, as you both love this song because it played on the radio the very first time he took you for a late night drive. You still remember how hot he looked gripping the wheel with one hand and massaging your thigh with the other.
“That's a heavy load to carry, my husband.”
“I don’t care. I vowed to take that responsibility and I do not regret it, understand?” He quickly pulls away to search your eyes for clarity. 
You nod, gripping his toned forearms for support. Yoongi’s always been your rock, but he needs to understand that you’re his as well. Maybe you just need to show him. 
“What if we switched?... Just for tonight. Would that change anything?”
He’s puzzled, but still plays along. “Depends on what you mean, I guess.”
You withdraw and grab his hand.
“Come with me,” you suggest, and he follows. 
The both of you vanish without even as much saying goodbye. If they need you, they know where you’ll be, and to not disturb you.
Tumblr media
“I wanna see you, baby. This isn’t fair.”
Your husband’s deep voice moans so sweetly when he’s lost in euphoria. He bucks off the bed when you suddenly take all of his length into the warmth of your throat, producing a sloppy gagging noise from you. “Oh, my… Fuck, what are you doing to me?”
You slowly come up for air, but not before circling the tip with your tongue.
“I’m giving you some head, genius,” you giggle innocently. Yoongi scoffs at your answer, not falling for your gentle demeanor one bit, and of course he shouldn’t. “You’ll see once you give me what I want.”
He groans. “Y/N, I’m not coming before you–fuck! Shit!”
You bite his thigh, making his cock twitch in your grasp. Your tongue soothes the area while you stroke him with a loose fist. “Y/N? Really? Have you forgotten already?”
“Baby, baby. Okay? I’m sorry, but you know I can’t come before you do. I just can’t,” he whines.
Your mouth hovers over his length, allowing your spit to coat and lubricate it. Your eyes are focused on him, so you can watch him come undone. “Who says I was giving you an option?”
All you can hear is sharp inhales and curses leaving his lips paired with the clinking of the white fluffy metal cuffs your husband tugs to keep his grip on reality.  Your head bobs up and down at a steady pace while you purposefully make lewd slurping noises around his dick.
Yoongi’s sounds of pleasure encourage you to keep going even when your jaw is nearly stiff and sore. All you want to do tonight is please him, and you won’t stop until you milk him dry.
“Shit, that feels so damn good. Your mouth feels so good. Please, don’t stop.”
Please. It’s a word he rarely drops. He’s stubborn and hard to break, so hearing him beg is music to your ears. You feel his body stiffen beneath you right before he gives you the warning. “I’m–”
“You thought you were,” you snicker after pulling off with a loud pop. 
Crawling on top of him, you mount your feet on both his sides, settling in a straddle position. You’re facing him so you can see the disappointment etched on his face. However, he knows better than to complain. If you are never allowed to, then neither is he.
“I may be your wife, Mr. Min,” you start, sinking on his thick, lengthy cock. “But always remember…”
You grab the long chain attached to his collar and tug it roughly before ripping the makeshift blindfold away from his face with the other hand. His fucked out expression brings a smirk to your lips, knowing you’re the one that has him all caught up in lust. He looks at you as if you’re his lifeline, and who are you to deprive him of his salvation?
“...I'll always be the freakiest bitch you’ll ever meet.”
Sounds of skin slapping and sticky arousal fill the air as soon as you start riding his cock. You use his leash for leverage and begin to run your other hand through his messy black hair. He has your pussy clenching when he bites his lip. Yoongi’s just too sexy for his own good, and the fact that he doesn’t even know it, is what makes him hotter.
“You wanna come, don’t you?” 
You can tell by the way he’s grunting and trying to avoid your gaze. After grabbing your flogger, you slow down your movements and run the tiny leather tail over his chest and stomach, yanking on his chain in the process. “Answer me, Mr. Min.”
“You first, please baby,” he grunts.
You tsk. “That’s the wrong answer. I should punish you for that, you know.”
“But baby,” he cries.
You gently rub his cheek with the instrument, making his lashes flutter. “Hm?”
“You feel too good. I can’t keep this up–”
“Then come inside of my fucking pussy!” You deliver a swift blow to the bed, making your husband shiver from the sound, probably reminiscing about the way you used it on him earlier. His thighs still wear the faint red hues from the play time you had. “Just give in a little, for once. Let me show you how good I can make you feel.”
He hesitates, but his eyes show interest.
“That’s all I want to do,” you plead.
“Damn, you make it sound so easy.”
You nod, circling your hips to coax a response out of him sooner than later, and finally he gives in. “Alright, fuck it.”
“That’s not how you speak to me, Mr. Min.”
His eyes grow wide hearing you speak with so much authority, and you couldn’t hide the satisfaction on your face if you tried. “You’re so fucking hot. Can I come for you now, please?”
“Of course, you can,” you chirp, resuming your movements from earlier so you can take him to his high. Your name rolls off his tongue like a prayer when he finally releases inside of you, and you keep going until his body twitches and jerks with overstimulation.
You let go of his tether and he falls limp on the bed, allowing you to kiss your way up his nude torso until you reach his delicate pink lips. He gives you the best smile he can offer in his fucked out state.
“Everything okay?” you ask him, using the small key around your wrist to uncuff him.
“Mmhm but,” he pauses when you place a small peck on his lips. “What about you?”
Your eyebrow raises. “Oh, you’ll take care of me. I just wanted to see how you were doing first.”
Your husband hooks arms under your thighs when you climb over him, and pulls you only inches away from his face. “I’ve been waiting all day to taste us.”
“Fuck,” you mewl when he licks your cunt without warning, his hands gripping onto you as if you’ll float away.
“Sensitive, huh?” He kisses your inner thigh when your thighs threaten to close, and spreads them wider. “And wet too.”
“Yoongi.”
“Come on. Ride my face, baby.”
With gritted teeth, you glide yourself across his face back and forth, using the roughness of his tongue for friction. Soon he takes over and begins lapping up every drop of arousal that leaks from your entrance. Your eyes roll back when he slips his wet muscle in your needy hole, and he only shoves it in deeper to respond. 
Your body feels hot to the touch when your hands begin to explore your breasts and hardened nipples, eventually reaching around to unclasp your lace bralette. Yoongi’s eyes glimmer at the sight of your mounds hovering over him, so you decide to give him a little show while he buries his tongue in your cunt.
“This is what you want to see, yeah?” You tug on your buds only to let go and allow your tits to fall freely before you repeat. Yoongi can only watch in awe as they jiggle and bounce, making his mouth water for them. But unfortunately, he’s busy right now.
He ventures up to suck your clit briefly before he answers and the sensation leaves you gasping.
“That’s so fucking sexy. Let me flip you over so I can see you better.”
You nod, and before you can fully get off of him, he’s already moving to pin you to the bed. He opens you wide and attacks your clit with his greedy lips, leaving you scrambling to hold onto anything. You ultimately find his dark strands and use them to prevent yourself from withdrawing from the sensitivity. He doesn’t complain about the strength of your grip. Instead, he moans around your clit, and your back arches off the bed. Your mind goes blank, and everything after that becomes a rush.
You don’t even recall grabbing his chain again, but you somehow pull him even closer using it, burying his face in your dripping heat. Your husband just takes it as a plea for more and slips two of his fingers into you. He fucks you like this until you’re seeing stars and screaming his name, until your juices are squirting all over his handsome face. Praises leave his lips, but little does he know, that was only a light shower.
Your hand quickly reaches for the flogger and you use it to slap your pussy in swift motions, making your husband’s mouth fall open. He can only babble incoherent phrases as you milk yourself for everything you have left, creating a bigger pool of wetness beneath you.
After you’re done, you fall back onto the bed, allowing Yoongi to do as he pleases and lick you clean. All of your energy is gone and you can only lay there and stare at the ceiling. However, his voice catches your attention. “Bath?”
“Please,” you reply.
Tumblr media
“That was fun,” Yoongi comments as he’s running the sponge over your shoulder.
“I knew you’d like it.” You chuckle at the “I told you so” moment, and he joins in for a moment after he thanks you. Although when he stops laughing and you feel the air become a bit heavy, you know that something’s up.
“What is it, Yoongi?”
He sighs. “It won’t always be this way, you know?”
“I knew what I was getting into from the moment I met you. So, please don’t do this to yourself right now. You deserve this moment in life just as much as I do.”
“A man shouldn’t drag his woman into this kind of shit, though,” he scoffs.
You turn your head so you can look at him. “Is that what you’re calling this?” You point between you and him.
Your husband can only throw his head back and laugh, knowing he’s talked himself into a hole, and only the truth can get him out. 
“I’m just–”
“Worried?”
“Absolutely,” he answers, releasing a shaky breath.
You face him and wrap your limbs around his body, allowing yourself to get situated before you speak again. “I’ve seen you at your worst, Yoongi. And I’m still around, aren’t I?”
“Because you’re crazy.”
“Crazy in love.” You wink and he leans forward to give you a kiss.
“Also, corny as hell.”
“You want to go there with me after the things you just told me in bed?” you warn him playfully.
“We will never speak of that again.”
“Oh, yes we–ahh!” You squeal when he splashes water on your face. 
Your husband’s laughter warms the entire room because it’s so genuine and carefree. You love it when he lets his guard down. It means at least some of the weight has been lifted off of his shoulders.
When everything goes quiet, you just stare at each. Something you’ve been doing more often lately. Some people hold hands as an act of intimacy, but that’s not your thing. Sometimes minutes pass when you’re focused on each other, admiring everything you love about the other, until one of you finally cracks a smile. It���s the kind of peace you can only find within each other.
“I’ll be okay, Yoongi. We will be okay,” you promise him.
Yoongi lies back in the spacious bathtub, and closes his eyes while you use the warm water and body wash to cleanse him of tonight’s activities. “I hope so, baby. Once our honeymoon is over, shit’s going to get real.”
“Well, you know me, Yoongi,” you shrug, moving closer so you can leave kisses on his skin, all the way to his ear. As soon as you reach the area beneath his lobe, his hands grip your thighs. 
A low growl emits from his chest, and your lips form a sly smirk. “Careful, baby.”
Although, you neglect to heed his warning.
“...I’m always down for the ride.”
“That, I know,” he agrees. “That’s why I love you, baby.”
You can feel him getting harder as seconds pass; you already know that there won’t be much sleep tonight so you might as well kick off round two. “Weren’t you just telling me you loved me for an entirely different reason?”
His voice gets low and raspy, sending a shiver through you. “Oh, yeah? Remind me again of that reason, will you, Mrs. Min?”
With a smile, you reach between you and take his cock in your hand.
“It’d be my pleasure, Mr. Min.”
Tumblr media
ending a/n: i know y’all are wondering what the hell is happening and i have the answers because my hoe ass already wrote part 3. anyway, let me know and i’ll release it after i’m done with my original posting schedule.
Tumblr media
507 notes · View notes
strawwritesfic · 1 year
Text
Tony Stark x Female!Reader: Angel
Tumblr media
Summary: Eccentric he may be, but Tony really does have a handle on the whole fatherhood situation, it seems.
Rating/Tags: T (Father!Tony; Mother!Reader; inaccurate information about breastfeeding and alcohol; alcohol consumption; Post-Age of Ultron; Avengers Tower; not canon compliant; Pepper & Natasha & Reader; Pepper & Natasha & Tony; child-centric; domestic fluff; separation anxiety)
Challenge: “160 Collective Drabbles” challenge by BobaPop on Lunaescence Archives.
Tag List: @imaginefire​
Angel
Being a first-time mother wasn’t exactly a walk in the park. You hadn’t expected it to be. Children–especially babies–were a big responsibility, and it didn’t help that your husband was a little eccentric. Nine months ago, you had given birth to a beautiful baby girl. Your life since then had been a whirlwind of sleepless nights, breastfeeding, and changing diapers. All the books told you you’d be busy, but none of them had suggested that you’d be so busy and worried that you would barely see anyone but your husband and daughter for nearly a year.
Apparently the strain was starting to show. When he had found you in hysterical tears while rocking Jasmine at three in the morning, Tony had had enough. You needed a day off, a day of beauty, a day of rest. Please, before he started crying, too. 
You weren’t so sure at first. Leave your daughter? With her father? And who even knew if you still had friends after all this time?
But Tony had put his foot down, and, in the end, you were glad he had. You were even gladder that Natasha and Pepper had been willing to drop everything and come out with you that night. Dinner without baby food being thrown in your face? Delightful. Adult discussion between three adult women? Divine. You almost hated for the evening to draw to a close, but it was dark outside, and you did hate to leave Tony alone to deal with Jasmine’s post-bedtime hunger pangs.
“Is Tony keeping you locked up in the tower over there? Do we need to stage a rescue attempt?” Natasha demanded when you voiced this sentiment.
You shot a discreet look to see if the driver of your limousine had heard this suggestion as the three of you slid in after dinner. Luckily, Happy did not look as though he cared at all what any of you had to say. 
“No,” you said, a little too quickly, then laughed.
“Good, ‘cause your hair is nowhere near close to being long enough for me to climb. I suppose I could get Clint to make me an entry point–”
“No rescue attempts,” interrupted Pepper. “That tower is still Stark Industries property, and I cannot tell you what a headache it is to get damage done by superheroes paid off by the insurance company.”
“You’re no fun, Pep. I don’t think you’ve had enough to drink,” Natasha said.
“And you’ve had too much. If you tried climbing up the tower tonight, I’d wind up with a suicide investigation on my hands on top of everything else.”
“Please. You act like alcohol affects me.”
“Oh, sure,” you broke in, “keep talking about wine in front of the breastfeeding lady. Not like it was bad enough watching you drink it over dinner.”
“Fine, fine.” Sitting back, Natasha peered out the window as the vehicle chugged slowly through the congested Manhattan streets. You must not have been very close your destination, because she soon turned her grin back to you. “I can’t believe you let us drink in front of you.”
“I can’t believe Tony lets you breastfeed,” Pepper said as she eyed your boobs.
You frowned and held a defensive hand in front of them. “Why wouldn’t he let me breastfeed?” you asked, and Natasha replied with an immediate amused snort.
“Well, he probably thinks of them as his, and we all know Tony doesn’t like to share,” said Pepper. “And it doesn’t exactly keep you…pert.”
“My breasts are plenty pert, thank you.” Though you shook your head, it wasn’t in earnest. It felt good to be back among your best friends, even with them teasing you so relentlessly. “Tony doesn’t care if I use them to feed our daughter so long as he gets to play with them later. He’s a good dad, you know?”
“Really?” 
You shot Pepper a look that she returned with a bashful smile. 
“Sorry,” she said. “It’s just…he’s Tony. He’s never been very responsible.”
“He’s responsible with Jasmine.”
“I’m gonna call B.S. on that one. If he’s so responsible, why’d it take you nine months to leave him alone with her?” Natasha asked.
“Thank you, Natasha,” Pepper said before you could answer.
“That has nothing to do with Tony,” you said flatly.
“Enlighten us,” said Natasha.”
“How?”
“What does he do?” Pepper asked. “Whenever I’ve come by to see her, Tony is nowhere around.”
“Because he’s busy,” you hedged.
“With what?” asked Natasha.
“I don’t know. Iron Man stuff.”
“Sounds about right,” Pepper muttered.
“He helps,” you said. “Just the other day he–”
“Ladies,” Happy interrupted as the door nearest to you popped open, “we’re here.”
“Thanks, Happy.” With no small amount of relief, you hopped out onto the pavement in front of Stark Tower. Your last name blazed in giant blue letters high above your head–the only lights on, save for a few inside one of the higher floors. “Goodnight!” you called, turning around. “Thank you for…”
Natasha and Pepper, both smirking, already stood outside the car.
“Will you be joining me?” you asked.
“Please,” said Natasha.
“I’d like to see evidence of this so-called responsible Tony you speak of,” Pepper added.
A pause, then you smiled widely. “Be my guests.”
With that, your troop (minus Happy, who left to find a place to park the limo) headed inside. The lobby’s overhead lights flashed on as you marched toward the lift, but not a soul stirred. No one remained on staff this late on weekends now that most of the Avengers had moved to the New Jersey facility. Normally the echoing emptiness didn’t bother you, but then normally you were inside your floor with your family. Out here without them, said emptiness was entirely too good at reminding you of your multitude of worries.
You hadn’t lied when you told Natasha and Pepper that Tony was responsible with Jasmine. It was also true that he was not the reason behind your self-imposed exile. Still, you couldn’t help remembering the last and only time before this that you had left your husband and daughter alone in the tower together.
Jasmine hadn’t been in any danger, of course. It was just that, in only the space of time it took for you to pick up groceries, he had somehow managed to get your daughter in the lower half of a tiny, infant-sized suit of Iron Man armor. He swore up and down that he had no plans to test out the suit’s flight capability, but the fact remained that he had built your baby a suit with flight capability to begin with. After that, your worry over what other things his paranoia might cause him to try didn’t seem so far-fetched.
Not that you were about to mention any of this to your friends. They didn’t need to know that you suffered from your own personal brand of paranoia as well. Besides, you and Tony had hashed all the rules out before you had left for the day. Nothing could have gone wrong, nothing at all.
“What is that?” Pepper asked suddenly, frowning at the lift’s roof. When you followed her gaze, you noticed that the ceiling was shaking slightly–a bad sign, but you did not realize just how bad until you felt bass start to rumble through the entire elevator.
“Sounds like somebody’s being real responsible,” Natasha observed. 
Heart in your throat, you glared at her, then rushed off the lift as soon as the doors rolled open. A wave of loud music hit you like a truck, forcing your eyes to screw shut.
“TONY!” you bellowed. Your voice didn’t even carry to your own ears. You let out a groan and stomped your way up the hall, completely forgetting about your companions in the process.
The rock music grew in volume the nearer you got to the kitchen, so you had to be going in the right direction. What did Tony think he was doing? No way could Jasmine sleep through this racket. And how could he hear her if she started crying? And here you had just been bragging to your friends and his business associates that he was a responsible parent! Responsible parents didn’t have loud parties when they were supposed to watching their children!
“Tony!” you screamed again, bursting through the silver doors into the room all the commotion was coming from. 
Again, you couldn’t even hear yourself, but that didn’t matter when you fell quiet almost instantly at the sight of your kitchen covered ceiling to floor in some sort of greenish goop. You covered your mouth with a gasp, and though that was quieter than your shrieking, it was enough movement, apparently, to catch the eye of the man wiping at the mess. He looked around, spotted you, and all of a sudden the music died away.
“Hey, honey. You’re home early.” Tony approached you, dirty rag in hand, to press a kiss to your cheek.
Instinctively, you shoved him away to scowl into his face. “What did you do to my house?” you said.
He came to a full stop, confusion washing cross his features. Your pointed look at the goop dripping slowly toward the tile seemed to clear that up for him. “Me?” he said incredulously. “That wasn’t me.”
“Who else was supposed to have done it? We agreed no parties!”
“Funnily enough, I do have the ability to recall something we discussed less than half a day ago. There was no party.”
And now Tony was lying to you! “What is all this, then? Where’s Jasmine? Tony, I trusted you to–”
“[Name],” came Pepper’s voice behind you. 
Startled, you turned to see her and Natasha standing there, with Natasha pointing wordlessly to the other side of the room. You whirled about and found Jasmine’s high chair sitting at the end of the kitchen island. Jasmine sat inside it, skin and dark hair covered in the same mashed-something all over your wall. She didn’t seem to notice you were there at all as she picked at the remains of the food on her tray.
Husband all but forgotten, you let out a quiet moan and raced over to your daughter to press your face into the top of her soft head. Your heart had not quite yet stopped racing when you heard Tony ask, “What are you two doing here?” from somewhere across the room.
“We wanted to see you being responsible,” Pepper answered.
“Looks like you did a good job, too,” said Natasha.
“FRIDAY!” Tony called.
“Yes, Boss?”
“We talked about this, didn’t we? We talked about you letting people walk into the house without giving me warning.”
“Miss Romanoff and Miss Potts came inside with Mrs. Stark. Does that still require notification?”
“A little notification might have been nice. Damn, I miss JARVIS.”
You didn’t bother getting involved with the inner workings of Tony’s AI’s programming. It seemed a far more important task to caress your daughter with open hands, checking each and every inch of her beautiful skin for any signs of damage–or perhaps faint indentations left by seams of armor. There were none. Jasmine was every bit as perfect as she had been when you’d left only a few hours ago. 
“She’s fine,” you said weakly. “Just fine.”
To your surprise, Tony had followed you there. He pressed a quick kiss to the top of Jasmine's head himself before rolling his eyes at you. “Sure, I’m the one that threw baby food at the wall. Not your perfect, precious angel.”
“I’d believe it,” said Pepper.
“Nobody asked you.”
With an eye roll of your own, you finally kissed Tony back. Jasmine really was fine, save for being nearly as dirty as your kitchen. A bath would fix that, though, something that couldn’t fix her making a hole in the ceiling if Tony had really decided to teach her to fly. 
“How did you get her to calm down?” you asked.
“Put on some better music,” he answered. “I tried that classical crap you suggested, and Jazz freaked out. Wouldn’t quit screaming until I changed the channel. She’s got good taste, I’ll give her that. Must have got that from her father,” he added with a smirk.
Shaking your head, you pivoted back to your friends. “See? Responsible. He’s great. Now, I’m sorry to kick you out, but we’ve really got to get started cleaning up before this stuff dries.”
You got set to walk Natasha and Pepper as far as the elevator door. There was a lot of scrubbing to do, both of the house and of your child. Before your trio could get very far, however, Tony stepped in the way. 
“Hey. You don’t have to leave just yet.,” he said.
"They…don’t?” you asked blankly, and then Tony was herding all of you back toward the other entrance.
“Of course not. [Name], you were gone for about two hours. While I understand why you don’t think I’m capable of giving you a quiet night out, it still wounds me. Jazz and I have got the situation handled. It’s only eight o’ clock. How about you grown-up girls go into the parlor for a nightcap and some chitchat?”
He ended by pressing his forehead against yours and staring very deeply into your eyes. It was always very difficult to resist Tony when he did that, but you still had to try. “But–”
“That’s an order.” After pressing a finger to your lips to prevent further arguing, Tony stepped away and gestured for the door. 
Natasha and Pepper looked at each other, looked at Tony, then looked at you.
“Sounds good to me,” Pepper said, shrugging.
“I don’t have anywhere else to be,” said Natasha.
They clearly needed no further urging. Without anything else being said, the two of them sauntered around the corner and disappeared. You, however, remained hovering in the doorway. So maybe you were suffering from a bit of separation anxiety, and maybe you just wanted to kick your friends out so you could get back to having your daughter all to yourself. Was that really so wrong?
“[Name], what’s the matter now?” Tony asked.
“I just–you don’t have to clean the mess up all by yourself,” you answered nervously, as though Tony would catch you in this obvious lie. 
He must have, because he let out one of his most dramatic sighs, the kind he usually reserved for when Pepper started heckling him about business, before placing both his (baby food-coated) hands on your bare shoulders.
“Let me be responsible for the kid for once. Think of it as me…asking for a favor. That’s it. I’m asking for a favor. Now go.”
With that, your eccentric husband shoved you out the door. A moment later, and his music started up again–a little quieter than before, though not by much. You had been unceremoniously banished. When you looked over at the bar, you spotted Natasha and Pepper already making themselves at home.
“Got you a Sprite ready,” Natasha called, pointing to a glass sitting on the counter after she caught your eye.
You heaved a sigh of your own. “Gee. Thanks,” you said as you walked over and picked up the cup. Both women clinked their own against yours, and you all took the first swig at the same time. Once you had downed yours, you made a face. “Worst night cap ever.”
They laughed. You even managed a smile in return. After all, Jasmine wouldn’t be a baby forever, and eventually you could go back to drinking real stuff. Until then, maybe it wasn’t so bad to give her some daddy-daughter time every once in a while. Judging by the singing, screaming, and pot-banging coming from the kitchen, those two were having the time of their lives together. And what did you know? Time away with Pepper and Natasha wasn’t so bad for you either.
92 notes · View notes
dark-elf-writes · 10 months
Note
!!!!!!!!!!
Hashirama isn’t allowed to participate in the plant contests because his chakra makes them grow to absurd heights.
Naruto’s apartment looks like a literal jungle by the time he’s six.
The Aburame bugs like to visit because of the wide selection of quality plants and strong ambient chakra.
By the time Naruto is seven, all his flower pots have seals inscribed on them to help them grow, to turn colors when they need water, detect sickness, etc.
Naruto thinks Kakashi’s chakra feels like cool rain in a thunderstorm and it’s a comfort to him even when the warmth of his body gets a bit much.
Kakashi would go on a murderous rampage if someone broke a leaf off of “Miss. Storm Bringer” or “Mr. Sky Splitter.” He is also very dutiful in taking care of them and has Pakkun drop them off at Naruto’s with babysitting money.
Alternatively, Kakashi could try really hard to keep them healthy but ultimately be so so bad at it. Whenever he drops them off, Naruto has to replace it with a decoy to prevent Kakashi from being sad. Like a parent replacing a dead goldfish. He, somehow, never finds out and just thinks not seeing the plants for a while makes him think they look better when he comes back. This belief is reinforced when they start looking the same as always after a day or so with him.
Hashirama and Naruto hold funerals for the dead plants with the ghosts their named after crying in the background. Whenever a new generation is sent off, they get a speech for their “bravery and valor” and are thanked for their “sacrifice for the cause” which is making Kakashi happy.
Maybe after the 10th generation, the ghosts protest letting more of their plants die so Naruto straight up replaces it with a plastic plant which Kakashi still waters per usual. Who knows if he ever finds out.
As much as I’m a sucker for Kakashi getting way too into plant care and treating them like his actual children like he treats the ninken like his siblings, the image of him slamming into Naruto’s Rainforest Cafe ass apartment (complete with stoned looking tree frog Naruto drive at the insistence of one of the ghosts years ago) just all “HOW LONG WRRE YOU GOING TO LET ME WATER A PLASTIC PLANT” is very very funny to me.
Though I vote Naruto does this with Sasuke because boy is barely able to keep himself alive most days with all that bitter need for therapy and would absolutely forget to water a real life plant.
The Uchiha are torn between laughing and crying because this little shit is the one they all died so he could live.
Wait
Dogs can see ghosts.
Pakkun comes to the apartment for the first time to ask Naruto to babysit Kakashi’s new plant daughter and nearly loses his mind because why the fuck are there so many dead people here INCLUDING SAKUMO who even if Kakashi didn’t have the summons yet they would still eventually know of him.
Naruto has to bribe all of the ninken into not telling with the most belly rubs because boy cannot afford to feed them for their silence even with Kakashi’s complete lack of understanding of how much money is reasonable to watch a houseplant for three days.
39 notes · View notes
Note
GUESS WHO‘S BACK! BACK AGAIN! i never rly left but let’s ignore that
I‘ve got an order for a uuuuuh dead bird soulmate au! Anyone order a soulmate au? No? Well shit, it’s here now and I‘m not taking it back.
There‘re honestly so many possibilities with soulmate aus and I love them to bits! Also, there doesn’t exist one for them yet? Couldn’t let that stand. So this one is based on "whatever u write on your skin shows up on your soulmate‘s skin as well" and as tradition demands it, I shall send it to u first! afterwards ao3 obviously lmao also enjoy!! loved talking about this with u
Tumblr media
Alejandro slowly rolled his sleeve up. Another little note had appeared while they were busting a cartel house, the slight tingle of the letters being written alerting him to it. By now he knew how to not let himself get distracted by it, but he had been looking forward to reading the message for the rest of the mission. The script was slightly loopy with letters smashed together the faster his soulmate wrote.
He traced the lines on his arm, taking his time reading the message. It was just a simple update on life, some annoying employer demanding they compensate him for a job they weren’t at fault for botching. He’d be incredibly busy the next few weeks. Alejandro smiled ruefully and picked up a pen, choosing his words carefully. They were both right handed, so their left arm got a bit crowded at times, but after an incident with a note being written on his leg, making Phillip stumble and fall into a creek when they were younger, they agreed to limit themselves to their arms.
At times he mourned the distance between them, his soulmate being American wasn’t as bad compared to some he knew were continents apart, but being in the Mexican Special Forces made his life and job too dangerous to actually be together. He wouldn’t give up this city, as much as he wanted to meet soulmate.
It was a sore subject between them. Both of them knew the dangers of their work, but Alejandro was willing to die for Las Almas and Phillip definitely didn’t agree on that. The colonel had no delusions about his fate, but sometimes he liked to imagine a future where they both retired together. They could move into his family’s old farmhouse, maybe get some animals like chicken and a dog, waking up in each other’s arms.
When the tank blew up, Alejandro felt as if his heart broke into a million pieces. It hadn’t taken long for him to figure out that Phillip Graves was his Phillip, his soulmate. He thought he‘d be able to tell him after the mission, when everything was over and done. He should’ve known nothing would go as planned, but now, watching his vaqueros putting out the fire still roaring through the metal cage that had once been a tank, surrounded by smoke and stinking of gasoline, he regretted it.
The darkness around him felt almost oppressing. He tossed and turned in bed, thinking about what ifs and should haves. His arm felt weird, a slight tingle on the inside of his arm. Shooting up straight, he fumbled to turn on the lamp on his nightstand and held his arm towards the light. There, shortly under the inside of his elbow, two words were written in loopy handwriting, letters pressed together: "I‘m sorry."
i cannot even begin to explain how much i love you rn im screaming crying throwing up rolling on the floor foaming at the mouth im
i love love love the ending so much and the subtle specifics about his handwriting that tie it in with the beginning
also the mental image of phil landing face first into a creek makes me chuckle. alejandro fucking his shit up ever since they were young
graves complaining about his job i see what you did there 😌
46 notes · View notes
shmaptainwrites · 1 year
Text
[CH. 2] New Doctor on the Block
Tumblr media
Chapter 2: Confessions
Pairings: Hawkeye Pierce x fem!Reader
Characters: Hawkeye Pierce, Sherman Potter, Father Mulcahy
Summary: Reader goes to Father Mulcahy to get something off her chest
Warnings: Reader is like implied to be Christian I guess?, mentions of death, angst
Note: I honestly love Father Mulcahy so much he’s literally always so soft and gentle with everyone
Series Masterlist - NDotB Masterlist
Tumblr media
“Pierce, could you just shut up for one second? I’m the surgeon on this patient and you’re the anesthesiologist. I cannot concentrate with you constantly yammering in my ear about what I should and shouldn’t do,” you huffed while picking out shrapnel from yet another young boy sent off to fight a war that wasn’t his. 
“I’m only saying it because it’s true, look-,” 
“No, you look, come on,” you pointed to the abdominal region and explained why you couldn’t go about it the way he was previously suggesting. “I am a trained trauma surgeon, this is what I live and breathe even when I’m stateside. Today you work under me, is that clear?”
“That’s normally how I prefer it, Captain,” he winked at you and you scowled. “What, you don’t want me to come over to your tent tonight so you call tell me what a terrible partner I’ve been, maybe teach me a lesson or two about human anatomy while you’re at it?” 
“Easy Hawkeye,” Potter warned and he finally gave you an inch’s worth of breathing room. 
You were able to complete the surgery, and then some without much fuss and switching things up with every other patient so you could both get breaks from operating. By the end of it, you were both scrubbing your hands and arms from any stray blood that may have made its way on you. 
“Plans?” Hawkeye asked, leaning against the wall and drying his hands. 
“None that involve you, Captain.”
“Are you sure? I’m told that I’m a blast in the supply room, especially in the dark.” 
“I think I’ll pass,” you shook your head and pulled your wedding ring out of your pocket and placed it on your ring finger. 
“Wait, you’re married?”
It wasn’t a question you expected to hear from him, nonetheless, you didn’t want to let the conversation go any further. You’d shot him down enough for a lifetime. 
“Yes, but I don’t believe it’s any of your business. Now if you’ll excuse me I have a date with the showers.” 
You pushed past the surgeon and walked off to your shared tent with Major Houlihan to grab your things and leave. 
It was a warm Thursday afternoon, the sun was finally coming out to say hello to South Korea and the 4077th M*A*S*H couldn’t be more grateful. You had a bit of a break on your hands that day, casualties were low and post-op duty was minimal, but you had another idea on your mind. 
You walked up to the outfit’s chaplain’s quarters and knocked gently on the door. A soft, kind voice greeted you,
“Come in,” 
“Father?” you peeked your head in. 
“Yes, my child?”
“W-Would you be able to take my confession?” you asked, now stepping inside his tent. 
“Of course,” he nodded and stood up to bring another chair for you to sit next to him. “It seems like something is weighing on you.” 
“There is something Father, I-,” you swallowed thickly. “I’ve seen you with the others, you’re very understanding Father a-and I might need a hand after this.”
“Anything I can do,” he assured you and you took a deep breath and nodded. 
“I’m not actually married,” you confessed. 
The chaplain looked confused so you gathered up all the courage you could to explain. 
“I was married. Past tense. I-I’ve been telling everyone in camp who asks that my husband wasn’t able to be drafted due to a medical condition and that he’s staying with our two children back home, but the truth is he’s…he’s dead,” your voice broke slightly with your last words and you tried so desperately hard not to cry. “M-My husband was drafted when the war started and ended up dying on the front before he could be discharged. He left me and our son, and our little daughter-,” you had to stop yourself, tears now streaming down your face at the thought of your kids growing up without a father. 
“There, there, it’s alright, let it out,” the priest held your hand and gently patted your back, consoling you as you admitted everything. 
“I-It’s just easier to pretend he’s alive,” you sniffed. “At home with Grant and Julia, waiting for me to come back.” 
“I understand,” he assured you. 
“But I feel bad for lying to everyone else in the process. The Colonel knows because it’s in my file, but I asked him to keep it between us,” 
Father Mulcahy sat thoughtfully for a moment, still holding your hand and trying to see what advice was best for him to give at that moment. 
“Captain, I believe it is quite obvious I’m not a psychiatrist, but what do you expect when you go back home?” he asked. 
You hadn’t thought of that. This small lie that was giving you comfort at the moment, maybe it would do more bad than good, even for you. 
You shook your head. 
“I can only recommend you tell the truth, on your own terms of course, but I believe it will help you grieve, even if it is painful.” 
“Thank you, Father, I-I think you’re right. I just need more time.” 
“Of course,” he nodded. He then said a prayer and blessed you and before you left the tent you gave the man a tight hug. 
“Thank you again,” you sniffed, wiping away a few more tears. “It’s nice that at least another person knows.” 
“I can only imagine,” he smiled. “Now go and enjoy the day, it’s beautiful outside, not often we get days like this out here,”
“Will do, Father,” you smiled back and left his quarters and decided to heed his advice and soak up as much sun as you could before it hid behind the clouds once more. 
Tumblr media
Tags: @montyfandomlove
35 notes · View notes
formula-juanmanuel · 1 year
Text
Chapter 4
Tumblr media
pairing: female!driver x mick schumacher
word count: 3.24k words
warnings: explicit language, drinking, motorsport accidents, mentions of sex, mature themes, mentions of mental illness and side effects, mentions of prescribed medication, mentions of death, sexual harassment, harassment of intoxicated person
hey y’all, not super happy with this chapter but wanted to get something out to you all. as always any feedback is appreciated and see you for chapter 5 real soon xx
“Du hast gewonnen, Mick!” Karl yelled down my radio. This was it, the phrase I had been waiting to hear since I started in F1 in 2021. From Haas, to Mercedes and now to Audi, I was finally a race winner and I was finally going to stand on that podium.
“Vielen Dank an alle. Ich kann es nicht glauben!” I could feel the tears flowing down my face. I wasn’t someone to yell and shout or to even swear. My reaction fully encompassed just how grateful and happy I felt to be doing this. 
As I pulled up to Parc fermé, I disconnected my belt and steering wheel, taking care to set everything back where it belonged before I fell to my knees beside my car, hugging the side of it. “Only 90 more to go, Papa.” I was thankful for my helmet dulling my whispered tone as I looked to see the many cameras focusing on me.
I threw myself into my team, feeling hands smack my helmet, back and shoulders, some a little too hard but I didn’t mind at all. Getting hugs and handshakes, I made my way down the line until I was met with my mother’s face. She had an Audi cap and her sunglasses on but even then I could still see the tears that flowed down her cheeks.
“Micky, oh my goodness. I cannot tell you how proud I am of you! Papa was watching from home too and I know he is so incredibly proud of you too.” I could barely keep my composure, throwing my arms around her shoulders and pulling her into me. I could feel her shoulders shaking as she broke into heavy sobs, and for the first time in a long time, they were the happiest of tears. Unfortunately Gina wasn’t able to join us here for my race, as she was competing too. I started to make my way towards the weigh in before I whipped around, nearly hitting my trainer with my helmet-clad head. “Gina, did she win, Mama?” “All the Scumachers are winners today, now go and enjoy.”
As I walked out from getting weighed, I looked down the row of cars, seeing who had pulled into which positions. Who am I kidding? I was looking for her. The ‘Silver Arrow’ with the big ‘79’ on the front. What I saw instead made me instinctively turn to go and help. Lori was getting lifted from her car, her head lolling to one side before being set down. Lando and Alex rushing over to grab her as her knees buckled under her. I took my first step towards her, my protective nature forcing me to go. I took another step an- “Mick, congratulations, how does the maiden win feel?” Really Buxton? It feels abhorrent, of course, what do you think? The commotion and bustle that came with the win and upcoming podium ceremony meant that I didn’t get to see Lori after that. I knew I shouldn’t worry much, we were barely even friends, work colleagues at most maybe but I knew how I felt about her.
Tumblr media
“Mick Schumacher!” And with that I climbed the steps and made my way onto the podium, pumping my fist to the Audi team that chanted for me down below.
“SCHUMI! SCHUMI! SCHUMI!” It made me both grin and cry, tears running down my face, knowing that a Schumacher hadn’t stood on this top step for 20 years, but I had ended that drought.
As I stood on the top step, I removed my cap to run my hand through my hair and look to the sky. It held no meaning other than to holt the tears that were slipping down my face, the emotion becoming all too much. I took a big breath and looked back to the crowd below. That’s when I found her.
It was hard to believe that my eyes could find her in the sea of people. She was rather short, the shortest driver on the grid, even next to Yuki. Plus she was rather unassuming, she didn’t jump around and she was rather petite, taking up no space next to the Mercedes team and her friends. 
I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. 
She raised her bottle to me and nodded, giggling to herself regarding the gesture. I laughed in response, it was a simple gesture but the sincerity in her eyes shone through. I couldn’t look away from them. I felt like I was entranced, hypnotised, by this woman. She stared up at me, a smile on her face but her eyes portraying something that I couldn’t quite place. Nevertheless, she was looking at me like a guardian angel. An angel in the sense that she was completely out of reach for me, no matter how much I wished for her to be mine.
Tumblr media
It was the way I was raised, always making sure I arrived anywhere early. However, that is rarely very fun when turning up to a club. Thankfully I had Esteban and Lance by my side, allowing us to catch up after the busy first race back.
“All of us, race winners now. This calls for some drinks I reckon.” Lance was definitely the most outgoing of our small friendship group, always the life of the party and the friend that pushed me to socialise the most, sometimes to my annoyance. But he was right, tonight was the night to celebrate. “You took the words right out of my mouth, mate.”
We found our place for the night, a VIP balcony area in ‘Club Wrangler’ which was hosting the Grand Prix after party. We took our seats in the booth and immediately a waiter placed a glass of champagne in front of each of us.
“Cheers guys!” I spoke loudly to project my voice over the music coming from the dance floor below. We talked for a bit, Nyck joining us for a second drink.
I heard what could only be described as the sound of collective chaos, looking up to see the new arrivals. What I was not expecting was to turn my head and see the human embodiment of a cloudless night sky. Lori was standing there, a smile on her face as she giggled to Lando, her bright blonde hair reflecting the light, but not nearly as much as the dress she was wearing which was shining like a million stars. She looked the happiest that I had seen her in a long time and I made a mental note to congratulate her properly later on.
“You are drooling a bit, mate.” Esteban had whispered in my ear, prompting me to turn away before it became too increasingly obvious that I was staring. “You should talk to her tonight, maybe have a dance?” I turned away from my drink to look at Esteban. His wholesome and simplistic view on life was refreshing for me, a stark contrast to my overthinking and meticulous brain. “I will see, you know I can’t dance though.” “Maybe she will find it endearing?” I punched his shoulder as he laughed at me.
“I am going to go and dance with the lady of the hour, I will catch you later boys.” And with that, Nyck was out of his seat and chatting to Lori before he offered his hand, helping her down the stairs to the dance floor. “Nevermind then.” 
I knew they were just friends, Lori had only ever been just friends with drivers, that I knew of anyway. Maybe that is why my heart sank at the thought of them. Who was I kidding? It was jealousy.
After having socialised with the drivers for hours, I realised that Nyck was back, Lori however was missing. “I am getting a bit claustrophobic here, want to come stand on the balcony with me for a bit?” I elbowed Lance to get his attention. “Yeah I reckon I will, I am starting to feel a little sick.” He didn’t need to know that I was actually just worried about Lori. I had been out many times with her in the past and it was no secret that she gained the attention of everyone, I was definitely not an outlier. It was also no secret between us drivers that she consumed more alcohol than she needed each time. She also managed to then meet the biggest jerk in every club each time.
Lance leaned against the railing, hanging his head, muttering to himself about missing some girl from his past. I was scanning the dance floor below, slight panic setting in when I couldn’t spot Lori, it was hard to miss a human disco ball. My eyes caught the sparkle being pulled to the bar by a man, her feet stumbling over themselves and his hand sitting way too low on her back, probably under the guise of assisting her. She was way too inebriated to even walk, the longer I noticed, he really was just pulling her along. I felt my jaw tense, not in jealousy of his hand position but in the fact that any man buying a woman that drunk a drink was bad news. 
“Lance!” I smacked his shoulder and he looked up at me, a grimace on his face. “Look!” He turned to the crowd and followed my inconspicuous finger to Lori being propped up on a chair. “Oh fuck!” Lance seemed to have sobered up in about two seconds, immediately noticing the terrible situation unfolding infront of us. “We need to go save her!” He stood up, gripping onto the railing.
“Just give it a second, he may be getting her some water. Let’s not cross boundaries before we need to.” I was giving this man the benefit of the doubt even though my brain and heart said not to. We both stood there silently watching the man lean across the bar and order something and Lori lull her head to him and say something. He said nothing back and she moved her head to look around, staring up to find my eyes immediately. A soft smile grazed her lips but her eyes were completely glazed over. The man handed her a glass of what looked to be rum and coke and tilted her head up to look at him, it instead fell back, her muscles having turned to jelly with the alcohol. “Oh, fuck no!” and with that Lance and I were up and down the stairs, apologising to people as we ran through them.
“I just want to take a picture with you pretty girl. You raced so well today, let me give you a kiss.” It was like I saw it all in slow motion, but the worst of all was the look in Lori’s eyes, she was no longer out of it, instead she looked to be screaming without making a sound or moving her mouth. “Yeah, mate I don’t think you’ll be doing that.” Lance said stepping right inbetween them, despite the shrinking gap between the man and his prey. “And who the fuck are you?” he spat at Lance. “Thought you watched the race today? Or were you only interested in the driver you could assault?”
“Lori, hey, it is just me, Mick Schumacher, are you alright?” I had leaned in close to her in the hopes she could see my face. “Micky” was all she could get out but my heart fucking broke seeing how terrified she looked. “You are safe, I am going to get you out of here, ok?”
I turned to Lance who was now watching the guy sulk away back into the crowd, like a tiger retreating into the jungle. “Lori, I am so sorry” was all he said as he turned around to look at her. “I am going to get her home, do you know what hotel she is staying at?” The thought of then leaving her alone for the night made me feel so incredibly nervous. “Don’t leave her alone tonight, are you crazy? She will choke on her vomit and die.” Lance said, confirming my worry and I nodded in agreeance. “Can you let them know what happened? I will take her back to my hotel room for the night to make sure she is alright.” “Be safe mate, call me if you need anything” he patted me on the shoulder before turning to Lori. “Hey angel, Mick is going to get you out of here, he will look after you tonight, you are safe with him, ok?” All she did was nod and smile a bit.
Getting Lori out of the club was difficult but once we were outside the coolness of the empty Bahrain streets enveloped us. I had messaged for a driver to pick us up and drop us at the back entrance of my hotel, to avoid any paparazzi or fans, not that I expected many at 2.30am. “Micky…” I had let Lori walk next to me, leaving my hand close by if she needed to lean on it, not wanting to touch her more than necessary. “Can’t walk” was all she muttered before she slumped to the side walk. “That is alright, the car is on its way, lets sit here until then” and I also took a seat, sitting next to her to keep her propped up. We sat in silence and I assumed she had dozed off, listening to her rhythmic breaths. “I deserved that” was all she whispered out and it made my heart sink.
“Don’t say that, Lori. It is not true.” She released a quiet sob and I turned my head to see her wipe some tears away. “I got drunk, I deserved the consequences. I always get too drunk.” She said it as a fact. “You being drunk does not give anyone the right to do that. Don’t even think for a second that you were asking for that.” She was silent for a bit, it was like I could hear her thinking.
“At least I was drunk around people this time. Silly me. I always drink too much.” She said it with no thought and before I could even ask what she meant, the car pulled up in front of us. “Let’s get you in the car and off to bed” and she nodded along, letting me pull her off the floor and maneuver her into the back seat.
Sitting next to Lori, I watched as she rested, her eyes closed and her head leaning on the window of the car. I knew that comment meant more than she was letting on, even in her drunken state.
I had been acquaintances with Lori for years, our F3 and F2 careers never really intersecting, me leaving a category as she started. We had the same friends and ran in similar crowds, that was the way of Motorsport. Having the same friends also meant that I knew what happened to her over her career. 
Aside from the constant sexist comments the media and some drivers spewed, her way too public breakdown was incredibly tough to see and hear about. She had been incredibly close to Anthoine, having moved in with him when she moved to Europe to continue her dream of racing. His death broke her heart as well as tarnished her love of the sport. I remembered talking to Marcus, him saying that anytime she wasn’t in the car, she would sit there and sob, strategy meetings, media duties, she couldn’t make it through any of it. And then the awful speculations came out about her being too emotional as a woman for this sport, retirement rumours and the worst of all being the whispers of her using drugs and alcohol to cope with her loss.
I will never forgive myself for not having talked to her about it all, about ways of dealing with loss and grief, it was one thing that I knew too well. I was too scared to make her feel worse. But I remember being happy to see her take time off to heal and even happier when she got back in the car to win F3 in 2021. However, I knew that she was not the same woman I raced with in F3 in 2018, she never seemed to smile as bright anymore.
“This entrance is the best one for you and Ms Hoffmann to use.” I looked at the driver through the rear view mirror and smiled. “Thank you so much, I really appreciate it, have a lovely night.”
I hopped out of the car and came around to Lori’s door, opening it wide to allow me to get her out. “Time for you to go to bed, ok?” She barely moved. “Carry” was all she said. “Ok Lori” and with a smile on my face, I leaned down to help her.
I carried her bridal style and walked into the hotel, managing to press buttons while I held her. I looked at us in the mirrored wall of the elevator, her head resting on my chest. I was worried that in that moment my heart would beat so quick that she would wake up and realise what it meant, she didn’t though. 
Getting inside my room, I pulled back the covers and laid her down gently. She barely moved, her hair splayed out over the pillow. I retreated to the kitchen, grabbing a large glass of water, painkillers and a bin to put next to her bed. I then went to my suitcase and pulled out a hoodie and sweatpants.
“How on Earth are we going to do this, Mick?” I muttered to myself. As much as I knew that I had thought about Lori naked a few times, the thought of that right now made me sick to my stomach, looking down at how tired and vulnerable she looked. “Ok” was all I whispered to myself before I acted on my plan. Slipping the track pants under the skirt of her dress, I worked quickly, avoiding touching her for more than 2 seconds. I placed the hoodie over her head and slipped her arms in, then unzipped her dress to let it fall off her body, it being strapless made this whole routine a whole lot easier. 
On the way to the bathroom, I grabbed a coat hanger, placing her dress on it. It was beautiful and I would hate to ruin it. I ran a washcloth under warm water and went back to Lori and wiped her face down, trying my best to remove her makeup. Lastly, I put her under the blankets.
T-shirt and tracksuit pants for myself, brushed teeth and I was ready for “bed”. I grabbed the love seat from the corner of the hotel room and quietly moved it to the side of the bed Lori was on. Not so close I was in her bubble but close enough to help if I needed to. A quick text to Daniel to let him know of her location and situation was sent, incase the message hadn’t been passed on by the group in their drunken state.
“Goodnight Lori, you looked beautiful tonight. Remind me to ask you for that dance next time” and with that, I closed my eyes, folded my arms over my chest and let myself try and fall asleep.
Tumblr media
lando.jpg
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Liked by danielricciardo, arthur_leclerc, carlossainz55 and others
lando.jpg on the sparkling waters, part 537
see all comments
carlossainz55 nice invite mate
lando.jpg we let the oldies get to bed early
schuminifan look how happy our race winner is!?!?
amyluvsf1 no lori? about time. so sick of seeing her in every post
hoffmanfan79 she was in the medical bay today at the race, don’t be so inconsiderate, I hope she is alright
39 notes · View notes