#He just wants to lick her but still it's not very polite on his part
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Funny pets things of the last few days:
- Bean was supposed to stay home for a errand, but when I opened the door to go out with Elliot, she ran full speed to the car. Tail wagging, staring at the door. She came with us 😂
- Elliot firmly believes that he can catch ANY bird (he never does) including flying birds that are 100+ feet up. He will inevitably jump and run after them.
- Elliot has discovered that he can jump on cat tree. He will only be stopped if the tree is surrounded by barriers.
- I looked on my phone for a few seconds. I look back up, Elliot is 3/4 of the way into a wild creature's hole house thingy. He doesn't understand that he is not, in fact, a terrier.
- We put Nelly on the other side of the house where the dogs can't go. Of her own decision, she went back to where the dogs are and was VERY shocked to discovered that they were still there. The audacity.
#By dogs I mean Elliot he hasn't quite learned that Nelly isn't a fan of getting followed by him#We keep him away from her but dang he's FAST#He just wants to lick her but still it's not very polite on his part#Pet stories
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One Single Thread of Gold
Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
Part 2 Summary: The three times Penelope tries to solve a Spencer Reid riddle and the one time she (and the team) meet the reason behind all the changes Trope: Fluff! Just fluff and team banter! w.c: 4.0k a/n: For some reason, my earlier post on this disappeared dunno why. But this is a very self indulgent fic as reader’s background is basically based on the industry I work in. I had a lot of fun writing the team banter and I hope you enjoy it too! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated 💗
The first clue presented itself on a dull Wednesday night as the team, minus Hotch and Rossi, were leaving the bullpen after a full day of pushing papers. Penelope in all of her sunshine and colorful glory was buzzing about these accessories that she once spotted on a storefront window.
“I saw a pair of earrings and a matching necklace that would look so good with that top you bought the other day, JJ. You know, the blue one with those soft sleeves—they would look great with it. It’s tres boho chic.”
JJ smiled, opening her mouth to reply, but Spencer beat her to it.
“Did you know that boho chic was actually a response to political and social movements?”
“Wait, what?” Emily interjected.
He took her disbelief as a sign to continue on. “Yeah, yeah. There’s an article written about it in Vogue—softness and femininity historically appears in moments of political stress and war. Just like in the 70s with the hippie and anti-war movement that defined their style as a generation.”
They all piled into the elevator and turned to face the boy genius like he grew another head. For all they knew, this could be a clone and a very bad one at that. The Spencer Reid that they knew had absolutely no interest in the realms of fashion.
Penelope was the first to break the silence. “Vogue?”
“Kid, what gives? Just the other time, you didn’t know how many shoes a woman owns and now you’re some kind of expert?” Derek asked with both eyebrows raised.
“Did not knowing activate some kind of button that made you want to read about it?” Emily added on, feeling like she was in some kind of TV prank show.
“What?” Spencer licked his lips, nervous with all the attention on him. He felt like he was about to slip something up that he had been keeping to himself for a while now. A hidden precious gem that was you. “I—I like to read.” A believable excuse except his voice went up an octave, giving him away.
The three women shared a look.
“But you read academic textbooks and classic literature,” JJ stated.
Penelope added on. “Not fashion magazines.”
He shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. “I don’t discriminate when it comes to reading. If it’s interesting—” he shifted his weight one side to another, thinking that the ride down on the elevator seemed to be taking slower than usual. “—I’ll read it.”
Penelope narrowed her eyes. She was no profiler but she could smell a lie from a mile away way. That wasn’t the whole truth. Dr. Spencer Reid was hiding something.
“Okay, see you tomorrow!” he squeaked out as he ran out of the elevator once it hit the lobby.
She turned to the three profilers, stunned with the boy genius’ erratic behavior. “Huh, did anybody else get the feeling that Spencer was hiding something?”
“Maybe, but the kid does read a lot. Maybe he just ran out of books.” Morgan shrugged.
The other two profilers tilted their heads and slowly nodded in agreement. It wasn’t far off on something Spencer would do. He did once pick up a pamphlet in the airport to read as mentioned before to her by Derek, granted it was for a case but still, Penelope couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something else.
So when she arrived home that very same night, she propped up her laptop and got to digging. Boy Genius was hiding something big and Little Miss Oracle of Quantico can find anything with her tech skills. She’ll get to the bottom of this mystery, once and for all.
———
Spencer was glad to be coming home to your presence. Having spied the lights still on from the outside of the apartment, he took the steps two at a time, excited to see his 2nd favorite person after his mother—you.
“Spence?” You called out, having heard the mahogany front door open. “Is that you, baby?”
“Hey, love. I missed you,” he deposited his satchel to the nearby sofa and ran to give you a hug.
You burrowed yourself into his arms. All the muscles in your body relaxing as you caught a whiff of his cedar wood perfume—the same scent you’ve gifted to him during the early stages of dating. “I missed you too. How was your day?”
“Better now with you,” his words coming out muffled as he refused to detach himself from the embrace. “Actually, I almost slipped up today.”
You extricated from his arms to give him an inquisitive look. The slight scrunch on your nose and raised brows made his heart flutter. How expressive, free, and trusting you were. It reminded him of your first encounter. How you teasingly asked him if he was a serial killer when he offered you a ride home in the pouring rain and how you easily accepted regardless.
“Yeah? Did any of them catch on?” you probed as you pulled him by his belt loops to the direction of the bedroom.
He laughed, finding your aggression cute. “No. At least, I don’t think so.”
“Maybe we should schedule dinner with them sometime,” you coyly suggested as you slowly started to unravel his tie. “I mean, we’ve been together for over a year now and I have moved into your apartment, under the guise of watering your plants while you’re away. Which is a lie, by the way—”
“I have plants!” he protested. His hands divesting you out of his sweater, bringing to view his favorite silk set in deep purple that accentuated your skin and the blush on your cheeks.
“—that I brought over, Spence,” you quipped back. “But don’t worry, I won’t spill how the intelligent FBI agent fooled naive me into moving in with him.”
There was a glint in his eyes that sent shivers down your spine. “Love, I wouldn’t exactly call you naive—” his voice going an octave lower. “—not when you’re looking at me with those tempting eyes of yours.”
Giggling, you leaned in for a kiss, one that he quickly took over. His calloused dominant hand wrapped around the back of your neck, effectively caging you in while his other cradled your cheek—a stark contrast to the other. Kissing Spencer had always felt like a religious experience that you never want to part from.
Reluctantly pulling away, you caught glimpse of his need for you. His hazel eyes now dark as ink, nostrils slightly flared, teeth sinking into his lower lip, and his dominant hand dug into the fleshy nape of your neck. It made you feel desirable, like the goddess that he would call you when he’s on his knees tasting nectar from the source.
The discussion of inviting the team out for dinner was long forgotten. No other words were spoken as you pushed him on the bed—only the cries of his and your name and moans of ‘yes’ echoed well into the night.
***
The second clue was uncovered when Spencer walked into the cold windy bullpen with new black cardigan adorning his lithe body. It was non-descriptive to the untrained eye but for fashion enthusiast Penelope Garcia, she knew what those four white lines on the sleeve meant—luxury label and priced well above their pay grade.
She narrowed her eyes. The Spencer she knew wouldn’t dare spend his salary on anything besides limited first edition books. Something was truly up and she planned to get to the bottom of it as her initial online search turned up nothing.
“Reid, that’s a really nice sweater,” she complimented, throwing in her bait.
He smiled. The thought of who gave it to him warmed his heart. “Yeah. Yeah, thanks Garcia.”
Her sparkly pink kitten heels clacking on the floor as she came closer. “Can I see it?” she innocently asked.
The request threw Spencer off the loop but thought nothing of it as he shrugged and handed it to her—still warm from body temperature.
Her squeals caught the attention of the other profilers filling into the office.
“What is it, baby girl?” Morgan deposited his bag on the table and stationed himself beside her. “It’s Reid’s new sweater. Are you seeing something I’m not seeing?”
Garcia rolled her eyes. This was why females are considered more observant that their sex counterpart. Her chocolate thunder was a profiler but how could he not notice what she was deducing?
“Huh,” Emily surmised. “Based on the fibers, it’s definitely not polyester. Possibly a 100% wool, what do you think, JJ?”
“It says here on the tag—100% virgin wool,” she read out loud. “That makes it very expensive, right Garcia?”
The colorful tech analyst smiled. Her girls could never let her down. “Right you are, girlfriends! But it’s not only that, this—” pointing at the four stripes on the sleeve. “—this is a signature Thom Browne detail. Their prices go up to at least 600 dollars—” they all turned to Reid who seemed clearly agitated. “—now why does our boy wonder have a piece that could buy at most five cute heels?”
With his vast intellect, he couldn’t think of a way to weasel out of this impromptu interrogation. He couldn’t very well say that it was a gift now could he? If he did, that would lead to another hard hitting question ‘from who?’ He raked his hand through his curly hair, taking the same path as yours did just earlier as you gave him a kiss goodbye.
When you gifted him the cardigan from your last New York business trip, he really thought nothing of its material equivalence, besides feeling grateful and loved. It was proof that you paid attention to even the littlest details about him.
“Hey Spence, I got you something,” you looked up at him with sparkling eyes. The first thing you had done when you got home was run into his arms. A simple act that healed his aching heart from missing it’s other half.
You reached into your luggage, enthusiastically pulling out the black clothing wrapped in tissue paper like some magician pulling out a rabbit from a hat. “Here you go!”
“A new sweater!” He exclaimed.
You rocked on your heels, looking bashful as you explained the reasoning behind it. “I noticed you fidgeting when you wore the cardigan JJ gifted you last Christmas, the polyester fibers used on it must have been really itchy so I got you a new one—” your eyes widened at how your explanation could be taken the wrong way. “—not that her gift wasn’t great! No, it was very cute! It’s just—I want you to be comfortable and protected during your cases in cold states. Polyester is a good insulator of heat but wool is still the best.”
He loved how unabashed you rambled about your interests. That was one of the first things he piqued his notice. How you liked to share your knowledge about the fashion industry that you work for but never coming across as stuck up or snobby, you just genuinely wanted to educate anyone who had a wrong perception of the billion dollar commerce. Admittedly, he was one of them but hearing you rave about it’s nitty-gritty details and socio-economic movements changed his mind. It also helped that a beautiful and intelligent woman, such as yourself, was educating him.
He pulled you in for a kiss, stopping all the worries that ran through your head. “I love it. Thank you.”
“It’s nothing at all, baby. I like taking care of you. Just like how you take care of me,” you reasoned. “Plus I got it on sale courtesy of the magazine connections.”
A tap on his shoulder brought him out of his reverie. It was Penelope with an eyebrow raised at the subtle smile that graced his face while he replayed the moment in his head.
“Okay,” Morgan drawled. “What’s got you smiling, Pretty boy?”
“Nothing,” he squeaked out, turning to see Hotch make his way across the office. Spencer hurriedly collected his things and started to move even before their unit chief could call their attention.
“We have a case,” Hotch announced.
The remaining BAU members all looked at each other, silently communicating about Reid’s irregular demeanor, before piling into the conference room for another grueling scene of murder.
“He’s been acting weird,” Garcia rushed out. “Definitely hiding something. What do you think, Em?”
Emily nodded. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“A girl?” JJ guessed.
“Yes, must be a special one for him to keep secret for so long,” Garcia surmised. “Do you think he’ll hate it if I go further digging around to find out who she is?”
“Further?” Emily clarified.
JJ laughed. “Probably, let’s wait for him to volunteer the information. Okay, Garcia?”
She sighed, shoulders drooping, before nodding in agreement.
***
The third clue was quite literally handed to Penelope Garcia on the jet after a case when she accompanied the team.
“Cold Alaska is so not good for my skin,” she grumbled as she rummaged her bottomless bag for her favorite hand cream. “I love going with you all on trips rather than being stuck in my own tech cave but the weather wasn’t it.”
Morgan chuckled. “Aw c’mon baby girl, don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy our time together?”
“You, my sculpted hunk, and the fireplace were the highlight,” Penelope turned to the other female profilers. “My beauties, do any of you have lotion? I think I lost mine.”
Before JJ or Emily could even utter a word, a tube made its way to her lap courtesy of her seat mate, Dr. Spencer Reid.
“Reid, since when do you carry lotion?” Emily inquired.
He shrugged. “Hand cream has it’s benefits besides from moisturizing the skin, it also provides an additional layer of protection. Depending on it’s properties, it can also repair and undo damage.”
The females all shared a look. This was another unexplainable behavior from their resident genius.
“We know that,” JJ stated. “We just thought you didn’t.”
His brows furrowed. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Well, besides from the fact that you’ve never shown interest about skincare before, isn’t it a stereotype for men not to know? Unless—” Emily slyly smiled and nodded at Garcia to continue.
“Unless you have a girlfriend that we don’t know about,” Garcia bounced on her seat.
Hook, line, and sinker.
Spencer’s eyes widened in alarm. He didn’t realize he was walking into a trap before it was too late. “What makes you say that?”
They laughed.
JJ started. “Besides from you suddenly being knowledgeable in fashion—“
“—or having a pricey sweater you’d never buy for yourself—” Emily added on.
“Or, or—“ Garcia reached out to touch his hand. Which made Spencer react with a high pitched call of her name. “—having a shea butter lotion with rough hands!” She waved the tube up in the air. “Plus, this is half empty. So either it’s not working which I doubt since this is a good brand or you keep this in your bag for a special someone to use!”
Derek chuckled. “Baby girl, you could be a profiler at this point.”
“Oh tell me something I don’t know,” she quipped back. “So Reid, want to tell us the truth?”
He sighed, finding no escape. “Yes, yes I have a girlfriend.”
The girls all shrieked with laughter and their own corresponding questions of who is she? How did you meet? How long has this been going on? What does she do for a living? Is she pretty? Oh I bet she is!
“Looks like that cat is out of the bag,” Rossi nonchalantly stated.
Four sets of eyes turned to look at one of the BAU founders. “Rossi, you knew about this and didn’t tell me?” Garcia gasped, a hand to her chest at the thought of betrayal.
He laughed. “I caught them on a dinner date once and our boy wonder over here—“ nodded in Reid’s direction. “—begged me not to out him yet, said he wanted to be the one to tell the team the news but that was like what, six months ago?”
“Six months ago?” Emily repeated.
“Wait, wait. Hotch, don’t tell me you also knew?” Morgan asked.
The unit chief smiled. “She was added to Reid’s emergency contact last February.”
“February? That’s almost a year ago!” JJ sputtered out.
The tech analyst turned to glare at the youngest member of the BAU. “Reid, you better start spilling all the details or so help me, I will stalk all your digital footprint when we land until I find out who she is, where she lives, and what her deepest darkest secret is.”
“What about hearing it all from her, instead?” He rubbed the back of his neck. The secrecy had gone on for so long and there was no time like the present to introduce his chosen family to his chosen partner—hopefully until the end of time. “She wants to treat you all out for dinner tonight.”
All four nodded vigorously as they watched him pull out his phone and send a quick text to which you readily replied and agreed to.
“My man,” Derek sighed. “Can’t believe you got a girlfriend without me being your wingman.”
“Answer me at least this, is she pretty and does she make you happy?” Garcia asked. No matter how nosey she may be, she only wanted the best for Spencer and if the recent lightness and smiles were all caused by his mystery girlfriend, she already approved.
“The prettiest,” Spencer gushed out. “She’s my own personal sunshine.”
The three girls melted into their seats. Their youngest was all grown up waxing prose over his lover.
“She makes you sappy too,” Derek teased.
***
[EXTRA - When the mystery was uncovered]
Spencer had never felt any more nervous that this moment as he, with the rest of the team minus Hotch and Rossi, wait for your arrival. He sat with his back to the restaurant entrance and his cardigan laying on the empty seat beside him as a reservation mark. His eyes had been going back and forth to his idle phone and to the conversation the team was having.
Morgan noted his state of distress and chuckled. “You okay there, lover boy? She’s still coming right, your mystery girlfriend?”
“Yeah, yeah. She said she was on her way 9 minutes and 24 seconds ago and based on the route and traffic, she should have been here 45 seconds earlier. Just worried that something might have happened.”
Penelope leaned in, picking on her bubblegum pink choice of drink as she did. “You know, if you just told me her name I could have tracked every movement by now and you wouldn’t be sitting here worrying.”
“What—no Garcia, I don’t want her tracked plus she didn’t want you to know everything about her even before meeting her,” his voice going up an octave in your defense.
She shrugged. “I’m just saying. I mean we don’t know a single thing about her—”
“We do know she exists and you’ve been together for almost a year now,” Emily interjected.
“Actually, it’s been more than year—one year and 124 days to be exact.”
“Buttercup, all I’m saying is we don’t even know how she looks—” Garcia gasped, having spotted a passerby on the window and what she was wearing. “Oh my gosh, that maroon coat is to die for and that textured leather bag—I wonder if I could track her down and ask where she got it.”
“Oh she’s pretty,” JJ noted.
Derek smirked. “Baby girl, tell me if you plan to ask her ‘cause I wouldn’t mind asking for her number.”
The tech analyst’s eyes further widened as she noted the attractive woman going inside the restaurant.
“You weren’t kidding about that coat, Garcia, it looks really nice,” JJ appraised.
Emily squinted her eyes, taking note of the garment in question. “It looks high quality, probably vintage and—is she going near us?”
“Oh gods, she is! Act natural, act natural!” Penelope chanted as she repeatedly slapped Derek’s arm.
The stranger stopped behind Spencer. “Hey handsome,” your melodic voice was a siren that called to his every being. “Fancy seeing you here.”
Penelope’s jaw dropped as she took in Derek’s flustered reaction.
“Me?” He pointed at himself, getting picked up in such a public setting was new even for him—the ladies man of the BAU.
You laughed. “Well, you too but I was more of talking to this lover of mine—“ you bent down, kissing your boyfriend’s cheek. “Hey, Spence.”
A series of gasps were heard all around the table.
The youngest stood up and turned to give you a soft kiss on the lips. “Hey, Y/N. I was starting to get worried.”
“I missed the train, sorry I forgot to send an update,” you explained as he helped you into your seat.
Promptly seating back down, he angled his body to yours—all attention on you as if you were the only one in the room. And in a way you were, with how molten his doe eyes stared, alternating between yours and your painted lips that begged to be kissed.
He always felt breathless when you were near. It was as if he found his very own Aphrodite to worship here on earth. Spencer was no believer of fates or destiny but he would pray and light a candle if he needed to, just to keep you his. Your intelligent mind complimenting his, your outgoing personality that draws anyone in, and your face that could launch a thousand ships.
Those eyes that could read the deepest crevices of his fiber of being. Those cheeks that begged to be caressed by his calloused hands. Those soft lips that deserved to be kissed and devoured until you, in turn, were as breathless as he was. He suddenly wished you both were anywhere else but here—specifically in the confines of the apartment where he was free to express his love, devotion, and adoration until you scream his name and beg him to stop. His hand, having found it’s way to your thigh, squeezed the flesh three times—communicating his promise to have your hair laid around you like a halo as you lay under him, bare and writhing with need.
The blonde on the other end of the table cleared her throat, cutting through the tension.
“Okay, Spence,” she smiled. “Mind introducing us to your girlfriend?”
He brought your hand to his lips, leaving a series of sweet kisses on your knuckle. “This is Y/N, my girlfriend. Y/N, this is the rest of the team. Morgan—“ he gestured to each one. “Emily, JJ, and Garcia.”
“It’s nice to finally meet you!” You exclaimed. “So sorry we’re only meeting now. We wanted to stay in our little bubble for as long as we could plus this handsome FBI agent—” you nudged Spencer’s shoulder. “—wanted to keep me to himself. But where’s Aaron and Dave?”
Emily whispered under her breath. “Aaron? Dave?”
“They had prior commitments, love. They did send their regards and Rossi wants to invite you to the next gathering at his mansion,” Spencer explained.
“Love?” Penelope squeaked out. This was really starting to feel like Twilight zone for the team members.
You nodded. “I’ll definitely plot it on my calendar. Now, I heard you had some questions for me?”
“How’d you two meet?” JJ asked.
“When was the first date?” Emily inquired.
Penelope brought out a pen and paper. “What’s you social security number?”
Derek snorted at that. “Do you have any other siblings?”
Spencer’s eyebrows raised further and further up with each question while your shoulders shook with laughter.
“She has all the time in the world to get to know each of you,” Spencer laid out. “No need to make it sound like an interrogation.” He was wishing to keep you forever, if you’d let him.
You smiled as you caressed his cheek, having caught on to the veiled meaning behind his words. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!
#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds fic#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid one shot#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x reader#my own fics
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This but it’s toji🤭🤭 preferably with a bit of plot <3
i never wrote for toji before so i hope you like it😩
“i’m not fuckin wit you no more toji, you gotta go!” you spit. your arms crossed over your chest as you looked down at the large man on the couch. his scarred lips twitched into a smirk, his hands itching to move towards your waist but he kept them laid in their position on the top of the couch. your words didn’t phase the man at all, his eyes low and bored as he just ignored what you said a dug for his phone in his pocket. “don’t start wit me, i told you a million times ion know that girl. she came up t’me askin about a number and i told her no. you only mad cause i was being polite and smiled at her” his smirk only grew as he watched his words crawl under your skin, your jaw tightening as you tried your best not to attack this man.
“since you like t’smile so much go smile at shiu’s house.” his green eyes saddened at the sight of your sad ones, his hands moving instantly to pull you into his lap. toji brought his lips to your neck, lightly kissing and occasionally sucking the sensitive skin before whispering in your ear. “you really mad at me mama?” he said softly, making your eyes instantly go towards the ceiling. you avoided his gaze as you lightly nodded your head. toji couldn’t help but get a little turned on at how possessive you were. never in all his years of living did he think he’d end up with a women that would get so upset just from him smiling at another woman. the whole situation just made him incredibly horny and you felt it under you. “let me fix it”
“this is your dick so stop running from it” toji grunted, his hand snatching you back onto his dick by the back of your neck. you were tore up, your panties ripped and discarded somewhere in the room, your breasts bouncing under you as your bra was pulled down to the middle of your stomach, and your sheets completely soaked from the three other orgasms snatched from you. you had tried to tap out at least five times, but your man wasn’t having it. his dick just bullying it’s way even deeper into you as he tried to atone for his sins.
“toji ba-baby please just one break” you whined, trying once again to drag yourself away from his brutal pounding, but it was no use. toji just sighed, pulling out before flipping you over on your back. “nuh uh, i wasn’t bein a good boy so i gotta fix it before you leave me” he said, a shit eating grin on his face as he lifted your leg over his shoulder. he sucked and licked at the white paint of your toes as he pushed your other leg to your chest. you were completely stretched out, his thick dick making a bulge appear in your stomach as you screamed and cried into the air of the room.
you felt him everywhere all at once. you took in the sight of him. his low, sexy eyes staring down at you as he let his tongue swirl in between your toes. his dick reaching the deepest parts of you as he squeezed at the fatty flesh of your thigh. toji was a very handsome man and it was almost impossible for women and sometimes even men to not want to get at him when he’s seen in public, but no matter who came his way he always made sure to let it be known he was with you. toji noticed that you were deep into your mind right now, his scarred lip twitching into a smirk as he pushed his dick deeper inside of you, reaching so deep your vision began to whiten as you felt another orgasm begin to approach. “you still mad at me mama?” he said, sliding his hand from your thigh up to your neck before giving it a light squeeze.
“still mad at daddy for smiling at that girl?” toji knew you weren’t going to be able to answer, his dick punching your insides in a way that made your toes curl next to his face, but that didn’t stop him from leaving a couple light slaps to your cheek. “y’hear me ma? i know you can’t talk, but can you nod f’me?” you tried your best to follow the sound of his voice, your conscious fighting with your body as you gave him a slow nod. toji chuckled at the far away look in your watery eyes, his hand moving towards your breasts before giving them some attention. “good girl, you gonna make a mess on me?” he asked moving your leg from his shoulder before leaning down closer to your face. you lightly nodded again, back arching off the bed as you felt the tight coil in your stomach begin to snap.
toji just smiled, watching the entire scene unfold as you released all over him and the bed under you. “that’s good princess, doin real good f’me” he groaned, his release right behind yours. he gave you a couple more deep strokes before stopping, shooting his thick ropes deep inside you while leaving sloppy wet kisses all over your neck.
“i only have eyes for you pretty girl, don’t forget that”
#jjk x black reader#jjk x poc!reader#jjk x black y/n#jjk x black!fem reader#jjk x black!reader#toji x black reader#toji x black y/n#toji x black!reader#jjk toji x black reader#jjk toji x black!reader#jjk toji x black y/n#jjk toji smut#toji smut#toji fushiguro smut#toji fushiguro x black reader#toji fushiguro x black!reader#toji fushiguro x black y/n#jjk toji fushiguro x black reader#jjk toji fushiguro x black!reader#jjk toji fushiguro x black y/n
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If you got a boyfriend, I'm jealous of him. But if you're single, that's honestly worse [Tyler x Reader x Bjorn] [NSFW, 18+ ONLY]
He doesn't know what's worse; his cousin's girlfriend or the fact that he can't get her off his damn mind.
A/N: 18+ only!!! i promise igddtdts is STILL in the works but I wanted to get this lil brain bunny out ehehehehe yes the song is a line from gorgeous by taylor swift also PS this is a FIC in no way do I condone cheating or anything like that so like. Don't go out and do that, it's bad!!!!! I'm DEBATING a part 2 for this but we'll see
Warnings: jealous behavior, possessive thoughts, Temptation™️, cheating, Bjorn knows he's fucked up here but he makes no efforts to change LMAO, exhibitionism, accidental overhearing of Sex, Cheeky Wank Mention™️, sexual acts, Tyler's face gets ridden, unprotected sex (wear a condom!!!), reader is a lil bit of an attention seeking minx ehehe, footsie
He can't stand her.
Tyler's new girlfriend is a sweet thing, always attached to him at the hip, it seems.
She works down at the housing offices, had met Tyler when he'd came by to pay rent and sparks had flown. Or some shite.
Tyler is head over heels, acting like a fucking sap most days. It's not surprising, he'd acted as such with Rain when that doomed relationship had been a thing.
But Rain and Tyler had broken up (damn near split the entire group too, fuck you very much), had been over for some years now, it was natural for his cousin to go out and get out there again.
Hell, Bjorn had encouraged it. In less than polite terms, of course.
But damn, did Tyler need to get fucking laid. His cousin had been tense more often than not, always frowning, always moping.
Sad sod.
And so, he'd met her.
He'd made some dumb joke about rent that Bjorn couldn't even bother to remember, and she'd supposedly found it hilarious, and bam, here they were, going strong a year later.
He hadn't minded her, at first.
Sure, her laugh was always the loudest, easy to pick out amongst others. She laughed way too easily, seemed to find everything funny.
Sure, her smile was the brightest, brighter than any star Bjorn could recall seeing. It was toothy, framed by perfect lips, which looked oh so sof-
But then that had started.
His thoughts tended to wander, now.
She would show up to the shitty bar they'd deigned their hang out, wearing those damn pencil skirts that hugged her hips and backside just so, or those slacks that made her legs look longer. Her blouse would be untucked, a button or two undone and her elegant neck exposed. Sometimes her eyes locked with his for a beat too long and he felt a fucking current shoot up his spine.
Innocent enough.
But oh, how Bjorn had thought about tearing that skirt right off of her body, collapsing to his knees and feasting on her pussy until the only name she knew was his. Hell, he'd do it in front of Tyler, if he had to, just to get the fucking point across-
Fuck, he was fucked.
If there was a hell, he was going straight there. Normal blokes didn't fantasise about fucking their cousin's girlfriend. A cheeky wank or two over it, maybe, but god, Bjorn felt unhinged.
He could feel his self control slipping, with every interaction, with every meeting of eyes.
He felt insane every time he saw his cousin's hands on you. An arm around your shoulders, a hand on your thigh, a finger tucking your hair behind your ear.
All instinctive, sweet touches between a couple. Nothing offensive.
And yet Bjorn wanted to set himself on fucking fire every time he saw it.
Jesus, maybe he needed to get laid.
\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/
You let out a strangled moan as Tyler licks another hot, wet stripe from your core to your clit, your fingers tightening in his hair as you ground down on his face.
"That's a good girl," he groans, hands tightening on your hips, rocking you to and fro against his face. He gently sucks your clit into his mouth, before soothing it with his tongue, releasing it briefly. "Always ride my face so fuckin' well, darlin', always look so fuckin' good using me to get yourself off."
"Tyler-" you damn near sob, bucking your hips faster, and faster, as you feel that ever familiar tightening sensation that signals your orgasm is approaching. "Baby, fuck- I'm so fucking close-"
He groans again, removing his mouth and staring up at you, panting softly. His handsome face is soaked in your slick, his eyes dark as they hungrily rove over your figure. A boyish grin lights up his face as you whine. He stands to his full height, towering over you as he backs you over to your desk.
"The blinds aren't down-" you hiss, only to be silenced by a kiss that tastes of you.
"So?" he hums, nosing at your neck, kissing his way down to your collarbone, where he lightly nips a mark into your skin. He kisses further, over your clothed breast, swirling his tongue against the pebbling nipple. "All people are gonna see is me fuckin' my girl, just the way she wants it."
You moan softly, rubbing your thighs together at the thought. It's sinful, downright naughty, even. But it gets you... well, hot. Thinking about someone happening to glance in, to see Tyler balls deep inside of you, making you forget your own name.
Fuck, it makes you damn near gush a fucking flood.
Tyler smiles that boyish grin again at your moan. "Such a good girl for me," he coos, as he unzips his jeans, shoving them down his legs along with his boxers. He pumps his hand up and down his shaft once, then twice, gathering the precum slowly forming at the head and stroking it up and down his cock with a stifled sigh. "Fuck, jesus- you want it-"
"Raw," you whisper, leaning back on your desk, legs spread wide for him. "Wanna feel you, Tyler. Need you to cum inside me so fucking bad, baby, I've been aching for it-"
He groans again, stepping between your spread legs and rubbing the head of his cock through your wetness. Both of your breaths catch in your chests, your eyes locking as he finally pushes his cock inside of you.
Your twin moans echo in the small building. Thank god it's your lunch break.
He doesn't start off gentle, like he usually does. No, neither of you have the patience today. The pace is damn near brutal, his hips snapping fiercely against yours, your cunt aching in the most delicious way possible as he fucks you hard and fast.
It's a miracle your desk is still standing, by the time you're done.
\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/
"You alright, cuz?" Tyler grins as he claps Bjorn on the shoulder, collapsing into a seat beside him at the bar.
Bjorn grunts, not quite looking at him as he fidgets with the tab on his can of beer.
Tyler arches a brow. "Fucks sake, must've been a shite day if it's got you all quiet."
Rather the oppsite, Bjorn wants to spit back, Got to hear your girlfriend moaning and begging to get filled with cum, got enough material to fuel a thousand masturbation fantasies and fucking more. Close the blinds next time you fucking exhibitionist.
He of course says none of that.
"Summit like that." Bjorn shrugs instead. "So where's-"
"Hey," you grin, sliding into the seat beside Tyler. Bjorn almost groans.
Of fucking course it was the skirt today. God, he hoped some fucking grunt would come along and fire a pulse rifle into his head.
"Sup?" he greets, barely looking at you.
You're well used to Bjorn's behaviour by now but...
Well, that won't do.
You're in love with Tyler, yeah. Absolutely devoted to him alone, but...
You like the attention that Bjorn desperately tries not to give you. You like the struggle of watching him try not to stare at your ass in a skirt, or your tits in your blouse. You like watching his jaw tick and his knuckles tighten on his glass whenever Tyler gets handsy.
It's thrilling.
It's maddening when his eyes aren't on you.
God forbid he even thinks about looking at another girl.
You shift in your seat, crossing one leg over the other, completely casual.
Your foot stretches out, casually gliding up and doen Bjorn's calf. He tenses, looking at you with confusion, his brow furrowed in thought. Perhaps he thought you'd aimed for Tyler and missed.
You meet his eyes, sliding your foot up his calf, over his knee, up his thigh...
He inhales sharply, taking a sip of beer as he listens to Tyler chat about his work day.
You toy with the zipper of Bjorn's pants. Of course, you can't unzip but...
The feeling of something getting firmer beneath your touch sends a thrill down your spine, makes your pussy pulse with want. Your eyes meet Bjorn's again, and oh fuck, if the sight of the blue of his eyes being taken over by his pupils doesn't make your cunt fucking damn near gush...
You remove your foot, watching Bjorn's fingers tighten on his can, his eyes burning into your face, trailing to your lips, down your neck, your breasts...
His eyes snap up to the mark on your neck, his nostrils flaring as he leans back in his chair, throwing back the rest of his can in one smooth gulp.
"Gonna head," he grunts, grabbing his coat from the back of the chair and holding it on his lap, glancing between the pair of you. "Enjoy yourselves or whateva, alright? Try not to fuck in front of everyone, yeah?"
And he's off, before you or Tyler can even say a word. Tyler watches after his cousin with concern, brow pinched and frown of worry firmly set into his handsome face.
"What's up with him?" He ponders, and you hum, taking your eyes off of Bjorn's backside in order to smile at him.
"No idea."
#alien romulus#alien#bjorn alien romulus#bjorn x reader#tyler harrison x reader#bjorn alien romulus x reader#tyler harrison#tyler harrison x reader x bjorn
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something old, something new | T.S
previous part | next part
or check out the series masterlist
summary ; how long can you keep that secret?
warnings ; arranged marriage!trope, SLOW burn, soft!tommy , fem!reader, idk what im doing,
a/n ; i would love to know what you guys think of this part<3 thank you guys for all the support i really really appreciate it <33
-
"ya should've stabbed 'im when ya had the chance to." madeline mumbles, putting rose in the crib that was dragged next to the dining table
"what the hell has gotten into 'im?...." fiona looks at celest and celest shrugs , looking back at you
"god i feel like i'm going to explode" you take a gulp of the wine in your glass "i can't lie to tommy"
"then don't, just tell him" celest swirls the wine in her glass
"i 'ave a feeling tommy might just.." fiona runs her thumb across her neck, clicking her tongue
"i mean he's not that violent," you add , your finger moving across the rim of the glass "he's sweet...sometimes.... i think"
"is she ... drunk?" madeline grabs the wine bottle, pouring some in the glass in her hand
"i'm sure he doesn't just go around killing people" you look at the three women around you, "what do ya think jeremy wants to do?"
"i mean he said he wants ya back , didn't he?" celest sips her wine
"i mean yeah , technically i guess..."
"not technically" madeline is points at you "he said he wouldn't let ya marry tommy"
"it's just so odd" your hand rubs at the back of your neck "this is so out of the blue, we ended years ago. it's not like we were in contact too or anything"
"ya attract crazy men" fiona says with a raised brow
"i don't need this." you cover your face with your hand, before taking another gulp from your glass
"come on," celest gets up, taking the wine glass out of your hand "ya need sleep."
you have your arms raised on each side. , wearing a thin white robe. standing with your back straight and head held high, the seamstress starts measuring from the tip of your fingers to your shoulders.
"how is he treating ya?"
"hm?" you snap out of whatever trance you were in, eyes glancing in her direction
"thomas shelby, how is he treating ya?"
"yes , yes he is." you speak almost too quickly "why wouldn't he?" you try to not move,
she looks at you through her spectacles, raising a brow
you raise a brow too "i thought ya knew his family very well?"
"i do, that's why i'm asking" she says with a sigh , moving to the other side to get the measurements and your eyes follow her
the room is spacious, with every kind of fabric and thread you could possibly think of. it's quiet, the light shining in through the windows. the fabric and the design of your wedding dress on a paper on the table. a sketch of it, and it looked perfect.
"he's treating me well" you repeat
"do ya know about grace?"
your eyes drift away, you lick your lips nervously. you never had this conversation with anyone, it was a topic everyone tiptoed away from. except for her, apparently
"i know of 'er, yes."
"he loved that girl, he did." she nodded, rolling the measuring tape, getting your bust measurements.
"yeah, i've heard." you cleared your throat
"ya should've seen how he looked at 'er" she chuckled, "but , the way he looks at you ..." she looks at you again, before moving to make another measurement.
your head snaps this time, looking at her before she reprimands you to stay still "me?"
"mhm."
"i don't think so" you murmur then chuckle
"i wouldn't be so sure" she said with a knowing look , she rolls the measuring tape around your waist "i've known 'im since he was a boy."
"i mean, i'm sure ya do." you smile at her politely "but i do doubt that."
"ya can doubt it all ya like, it won't make it less true" she mumbles ,
a soft knock at the door catches your attention. she frowns, pulling her spectacles down and walking to the door, she opens it slightly
"morning mrs baker."
tommy's voice makes your eyes widen slightly, and your heart flutter.
"tommy." she says with a laugh "ya 'ave no business here, boy."
"my bride is here" he nods at you "so , i do actually 'ave business here"
she opens the door, letting him in. the smile and look on her face is stern, but maternal.
"the girl tells you're treating her well" she mumbles, going back to standing at your side
"she did?" he asks with a small smile before standing against a wall, his back pressed against it with his hands in his pockets, his gaze stuck on you.
she nods, putting her spectacles back on as she writes down the measurements on a piece of paper
"ya were trying to turn 'er on me, sylvia?" he speaks again
she shoots him a glare before looking back at you "ya see what you're marrying?"
you chuckle, tying the robe tighter around you. "yeah, i see it."
sylvia walks out of the room, to the front of the store for a customer that came in, leaving you and tommy in the back.
"why didn't ya bring your mother with ya?" he asks you, getting off the wall but not taking one step further.
"she can be...... overly enthusiastic at times. so i didn't tell 'er i was coming here" you say with a chuckle, turning to look at him
"that's smart" he hums , looking you over.
"she will lose 'er mind but i think it'll be worth it , i think."
he hums again, this time walking to stand in front of you.
"didn't ya 'ave a meeting today? i'm surprised ya even had the time to come here" you tilt your head as you speak
"want to get rid of me, do ya?"
"of course i don't."
"so ya want me around?" he leans closer, and you feel your breath stop. his voice is soft and low, his eyes glance at your lips before going back to your eyes
"i...." you stutter , your eyes scan his face "i do" you speak softly
"i do too."
"yeah?" you whisper back.
the air is so heavy, you feel his breath fan over your lips. your noses brush against each other.
"are ya scared of me?"
"no" you shake your head softly
he leans in closer and his lips press against yours, your eyes flutter shut and you feel as if time stopped moving, the floor under you disappeared.
after a few moments, he pulls back but not far back , his nose brushes against your cheek and his lips press against your ear
"what are ya hiding from me?"
-
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#kadwrites#tommy shelby x reader#thomas shelby x reader#thomas shelby imagine#tommy shelby imagine#tommy shelby fanfiction#thomas shelby fanfiction#peaky blinders fanfiction#peaky blinders imagine
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Kissing an idol | Yoongi oneshot
•——————•°•✿•°•——————• idol au, vacation au, fem reader, yoongi x reader, oneshot, fluff •——————•°•✿•°•——————• You're on vacation to Korea, you're outside in a park that's right in front of the house you're staying in, taking in your surroundings. Yoongi is casually walking his dog, Holly, until he notices a foreigner who seems to be walking around. He watches you sit down on a bench near the lake, watching the view. Yoongi looks down at Holly who suddenly tugs at the leash, causing him to stumble and we he looks up again to see where the dog was pulling him he sees the foreigner closer and closer.
You suddenly feel something against your leg, you look down and your eyes widen in adoration. You quickly start to pet the little dog, not noticing who's holding the leash. "Hi there!!", you say to the dog who's clearly enjoying your touch. You hear a chuckle, "Hey, she seems to like you".
"She does, huh?", you respond without looking up, still focused on the dog. "Yeah she does", he replies with another chuckle. As you keep petting her you eventually look up to say something to the owner. You face immediately goes into shock, your lips slightly parted. He bites into his lower lip to hold back a laugh.
"Oh my god.. I..", with that Holly suddenly jumps into your lap. Yoongi is about to tell her off, but you start to cuddle her. "I uh.. god.. I love your music..", you say as you're giving Holly scratches, which she's clearly enjoying. "I appreciate that", he responds in Korean. "I have no idea what you just said". A giggle escapes your lips. He chuckles and replies, "I said that I appreciate hearing that you love my music". You feel like an idiot and let out a soft laugh, "I was super confident in my Korean when I came here, but I'm absolutely terrible at it".
He chuckled once more. "It's a difficult language to learn, especially with the different levels of politeness and such". "Yeah I barely understand any of it!", you scoot a little to the side, Holly still in your lap, making space for him to sit down on the bench next to you. He watches you scoot to the side and he smiles widely, taking a seat next to you and giving Holly's head a small rub. "Is she always so cuddly with strangers?". He chuckles, "No, not really. She's always been friendly but not usually this cuddly". You let out a soft chuckle as well, "Well I love it". He smiles at you and watches your reaction to Holly.
"I think she might like you more than me right now". You laugh and give Holly a good cuddle. "I mean, I am very cool". He laughs at that comment, "I can see that, but I wonder, how did such a cool person end up in Korea? Especially this park?".
"I've always wanted to visit Korea, and I'm staying right across from this park", you point towards the little house. "I want to travel the whole world at one point". He gives you a soft smile, "How long are you staying here for?". "A month".
"A month isn't a bad amount of time", he watches you as Holly starts to lick your hand. You let out a giggle at the feeling. "It wouldn't be that bad if I was actually decent at Korean". He lets out a chuckle and tilts his head slightly, "I'm sure you'll get the hang of it eventually. It's not an easy language, sure, but I'm sure that you'll learn enough to get by comfortably while you're here.
Holly gets even more comfortable in your lap, "She's such a sweet girl". He grins as he watches Holly get more comfortable on your lap, clearly enjoying the attention. "Yeah she really is. She's normally a little more shy with strangers so I'm quite surprised at how she's being with you". "I tend to have that affect on animals", you give him a smile but quickly look back to Holly, feeling shy.
He lets out a small laugh as he notices you shyly look away, he finds it quite adorable, "Yeah I can tell, she has officially chosen you". "Chosen me as her favourite person, too bad for you". He puts a faux hurt expression on his face when you said that, "I can't believe my dog likes you more than me now". You giggle and move your hand to pet Holly again, your shoulder accidentally touching his.
He can't deny that the brief contact had an effect on him, he looks at you with an amused expression. "Yeah, yeah, you're so cool". You let out a small giggle, "Not as cool as you though". He raises an eyebrow at your response and chuckles, still amused by you but also quite surprised you said that. "Oh really? I'm cooler than you?". "Which one of us is the world famous idol, hm?".
He laughs when you said that and shakes his head in disbelief, finding it funny how direct you are. "Okay, okay, you have a point.. But what about personality wise, hm? Who's the coolest then?". "Hm.. I don't know you enough personally to make that decision yet". You look at him and once again quickly look away.
"Well.. maybe you should get to know me then, hm?". You feel your heart beating faster, "Would you let me?". He chuckles at your response and nods, "Why wouldn't I?". You bite your lip in nervousness for a second before replying, "Hm.. Might be scared that Holly will leave you for me? That's a pretty good reason not to". "Yeah that's probably true.. Can't risk that".
Holly has closed her eyes at this point, laying comfortably in your lap. "I guess she's officially claimed you as her favourite person". "Now you can't get rid of me anymore". He laughs and looks into your eyes, "Hmm, what a shame. Guess I'll have to deal with having you around now", he slightly leaned in when he said that, teasing you. You bite the inside of your cheek, "Just to be clear, you actually want to be my friend, right?". He laughs at you, "Of course I do. I don't just sit on benches with everyone".
"So I'm special, hm?". He leans his side against yours, his arm and leg pressed against yours, "I guess you could say special.. But also just beautiful". You blush heavily at his words. Did the Min Yoongi just call me beautiful?? "T-thanks.."
He purses his lips and lets out a breath, "I don't think a thanks will do it. Y'know, not a lot of people get compliments from me". You frown your eyebrows, "What do you mean?". He gives you a cheeky smile. "Just saying that.. There's other ways you can thank me". Your lips part slightly, "You're not talking about sex, right?".
His eyes widen and his body stiffens up, "No! No. Not.. Not that.." You start to feel embarrassed, "Oh my god.. Sorry I thought that-". He moves his hand up to cup your cheek. "No it's my fault, I can't flirt for shit". "You were flirting with me?", you look at him with shock, your cheeks burning up. "Yes.."
You're speechless for a bit, just string at him. "I was trying to get a kiss from you", he says quietly, his voice basically a whisper. Without thinking you respond to him, "Maybe you should try it again". He gives you a small smirk, feeling confident. "Then I will..", he leans his face towards yours, his breath tickling your skin. "Do you want me to?", he asks, his lips almost touching yours.
"Please..", it's the only thing you manage to get out of your throat. He presses his lips against yours gently, moving in a loving pattern. You never imagined that his lips would be this soft. You kiss him back, softly deepening the kiss. His thumb caresses your cheek, yours moving to the back of his head, your flingers intertwining with his hair.
Your kiss gets cut short by Holly moving around, wanting attention. Yoongi lets out a low chuckle, "So uhm.. Could I have your number?".
#bts#bts army#bangtan sonyeondan#bts suga#min yoongi#suga bts#yoongi#bangtan#bts yoongi#suga#jungkook#taehyung#jimin#hoseok#seokjin#namjoon#yoongi fic#yoongi oneshot#yoongi gif#yoongi smut#yoongi fluff#yoongi x reader#yoongi x you#yoongi x y/n#bts fic#bts fanfic#bts fluff#bts fanfction#bts oneshot#oneshot
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DOG SITTER FIC! DOG SITTER FIC! DOG SITTER FIC! (You already know who lmao)
Lewis has a new dog sitter while he's away filming. She just so happens to be cute af
everybody say thank you to Tiff for being the reason Beth and i were talking about this -- but also if i've got his dog's name and stuff wrong i might cry lmao
Part Two
(moodboard by @nurse-sainz)
It was a little terrifying, having a stranger stay in your house to look after your dog. But his friends swore that she was the real deal. A qualification in animal care and enough good reviews on her business social media.
But she was still a stranger in his house, looking after Bodie while he was away filming. He'd met her the day before, showed her around his house and gave her the few instructions she'd need to look after Bodie.
But Bodie was instantly taken with her. Tail wagging so hard he was almost falling over as she said hello.
Lewis couldn't stop himself from watching her. Sitting on the floor, Bodie climbing into her lap to sniff and lick at her face. "Yes, yes," she said through a laugh as she scratched behind his ears. "It's lovely to meet you, too."
Her laugh was melodic. She gently pushed him off, stood up and wiped at her trousers. "He's lovely," she said, still grinning. "I'd be more than happy to look after him." She grabbed her bag from the banister post and pulled out a few sheets of paper, stapled together. It was all very professional, he noticed. "Just shoot me a text once you've read through and signed it and I'll be there when you need me."
Lewis flicked through it quickly and looked at her. "Can you start tomorrow?"
Now there was a stranger in his house, looking after his dog while he was on the other side of the country. While he wasn't filming, he couldn't stop himself from wondering what she and Bodie were doing in that moment.
On his second day away from home, Lewis got his first picture from her.
Bodie on her lap, staring down at the camera. The corner of her face, half of her smile, was just visible. Miss you, dad! - Bodie she'd written just beneath.
Missing you too, Bodes! He replied.
The next picture came the next day. Bodie sat by her feet on their morning walk. He was stood to attention, waiting for her to throw a stick or something, Lewis assumed. He's been so good, she'd texted him.
I'm glad, he replied. How have you been? It was simply being polite, wasn't it? Simply, he was asking how she was finding his house, how she was finding taking care of Bodie.
He didn't mean for it to spark into an entire conversation. But she replied to him and then he replied to her and then she replied to him and then he replied to her.
It never turned unprofessional. No, just a dog sitter talking to her employer. She sent more pictures of Bodie, including a video where he fetched a stick. When she disappeared (to walk Bodie home), Lewis couldn't stop himself from feeling disappointed. But she returned quickly and the conversation resumed.
The next week continued on in this manner. Texts, pictures and such. Lewis began looking forward to pictures and messages from her, even when she pretended to be Bodie messaging him. The better pictures had been saved to his phone.
Bodie at the beach, Bodie having a nap, Bodie on the spare bed with her.
There was maybe a week left of filming when Lewis got a phone call from her. She hadn't called him before, always opting to text instead. For some reason, it filled him with an insane amount of anxiety.
He swiped his thumb across his phone screen. Immediately, Bodie's face filled his screen. "Hey Buddy," he said and Bodie let out something of a snort.
But she was nowhere to be seen. "Is everything okay?" Lewis asked as he tried to catch a glimpse of her.
And then her face came into his view. He didn't mean for his breath to catch in his throat when he saw her, cowboy hat on is head. The cowboy hat that was normally hanging from his wall.
"Thought Bodie wanted to actually speak to his dad," she said, eyes shutting and voice coming out muffled as Bodie climbed up her to lick her face. "I love you too, Bode, but your daddy is callin'."
Lewis let out a whistle. As soon as he did, Bodie turned towards him and let out a little yap. "Yeah, boy," she said and scratched behind his ear. "That's your daddy."
"Nice hat," Lewis said, unable to hide his grin.
She pulled it down slightly, playing the part of the flirty cowboy. "Ma'am," she said, deepening her voice and putting on a country accent.
Lewis put the phone down, propped up on a counter top, and stepped back, revealing his outfit. "Holy shit!" She laughed as she looked at him, at the leather chaps and plaid shirt he was wearing. "You're a fucking cowboy!"
"I'm a fuckin' cowboy," he answered, grabbed his brown hat and put it on his head.
She was smiling so damn wide.
And that was when Lewis realised he had a crush. He had a goddamn crush on his dog sitter.
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Say Yes [Part Three]
//fem!reader x Ot8!Skz//
Synopsis: You get slipped a note from your favorite idol to meet him at his hotel room, but he's not the only one there
Genre: smut/suggestive, crack, fluff
Warnings: sexual situations, reader uses she/her pronouns
A/N: thank you @seoyeonleexoxo for the requestttt 💕 THIS PART IS PURE SMUT SO IF YOU’RE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THAT PLS DO NOT READ 🔞
~~~~|~~~~
Your breathing grows heavy as you feel familiar, rough hands travel down your stomach teasingly. It had been a staggering 15 minutes since Minho very politely asked you to lay on your back in the middle of the bed.
Hyunjin took the initiative to take your clothes off, starting with your jewelry and going frustratingly slow.
Chan leaned over the bed, his face close to yours as he asked you what you liked and didn’t like.
After going through a quick list of definite yes’s and hard no’s, Minho and Hyunjin decided they would start you off while the other boys sat against the wall and watched.
Hyunjin would mutter little praises, calling you beautiful every time he kissed your face or groped your chest. Minho was a little rougher, very excited at your approval of slight pain infliction.
He would lean down to bite and suck at your neck, always licking back over the bruise to help soothe it a little.
The juxtaposition between Hyunjin’s comforting and almost loving actions versus Minho’s rough but eventually gentle touches made you dizzy.
The sight of both men looking down at you with looks of pure want and pleasure only excited you more. Minho seemingly saw this, and walked away from you, going to the closet in the room and disappearing in there for a couple of seconds. He comes back out with a dark blue tie and walks back to you, making sure to keep eye contact.
“Close your eyes,” He says, and that’s when you realize Minho is a man of very few words. He’s still expressive, just allows his body to talk for him.
You close your eyes and he ties the tie around your head, making sure you won’t be able to open your eyes. He doesn’t tie it too tightly, and he checks up on you before Hyunjin’s hands are suddenly off you.
Before you know it, your legs are spread and the bed dips in between them. A small gasp leaves your lips once you feel a warm tongue on you. Lips then attach to your clit and force a pornographic moan out of you.
As your mouth refuses to close while you assume Hyunjin is in between your legs, someone starts to messily kiss you.
Every time Minho demands your attention at your face, Hyunjin decides to compete and flicks his tongue in a way that makes you start to scream into Minho’s mouth.
They work you for what seems like hours, in reality, it’s only 8 minutes or so. You cum twice in those few minutes, and you can feel Minho’s smirk before he moves away from you.
Hyunjin gives you once more a kiss between your legs before climbing up and kissing you on the mouth. You can taste yourself on his lips, and it makes your legs shake in anticipation.
You’re left to recover for a few seconds as an unknown member sits you up and gives you a sip of water. Next, two more sets of hands are on you.
Both these sets of hands are strong, but small. One set feels similar to Minho’s, so you assume it may be Felix. Your suspicions are confirmed when the aforementioned member stalks to your ear and starts whispering gentle degradations to you.
A slew of “sluts” and “whore” is thrown your way as the other pair of hands rub circles on your nipples with his thumbs.
Changbin reveals himself when he calls you pretty, and you melt into his touch. Before you know it, both men latch to your breasts.
Changbin is on your left, sucking more slowly while his left-hand travels down and grips at your thigh. Felix -at your right- sucks almost enthusiastically, his right hand traveling down to your clit. He touches you lightly, just enough to keep you moaning softly.
The both of them begin to bite and suck at each breast, most definitely leaving bruises on you. Felix’s finger speeds up and causes your lower body to buck.
He takes his mouth off you and starts to speak, asking you if you like what he’s doing to you. His tone is scarily condescending as he asks if you want him to slow down. He doesn’t allow you any break as he draws circles in between your legs, bringing you to your third climax.
Changbin found his way to your thighs and started to leave bruises there, making you shudder.
After they both give you kisses of appreciation, they move away. You’re left for maybe two minutes as you hear shushed conversation. The next two come and you immediately know who they are because Seungmin starts to make conversation.
“Tell me about your day,” He says, confusing you a bit. I.N must have seen your confused face because he laughs a little. The makeshift blindfold makes you unable to see Seungmin’s taunting eyes that stare down at your exposed body.
“Um, well I woke up around 8 AM- oh my God” You damn near scream as your left leg is lifted and two fingers slide into you.
You immediately start to cry out at the overwhelming feeling of pleasure that floods your body.
“Keep going,” I.N. says. His fingers rub your parted lips a little before you start to stutter out a horrible recount of your day.
Your words are soon cut off by what seems to be I.N.’s middle and ring finger plunging into your mouth. You immediately start to suck at his fingers as best as you could.
“Don’t worry, he washed them. '' Seungmin laughs, curling his fingers in a way that makes you almost bite down on I.N.’s fingers.
Drool starts to escape the side of your mouth, as I.N thrusts his fingers in and out of your mouth.
Seungmin mumbles a plethora of degrading words masked as praises as he brings you to your high. I.N. takes his fingers away so he and Seungmin can hear how loud you are for them.
Soon enough, I.N. sits you back up and gives you another drink of water.
You knew only two members were left, and you wondered what they’d do as you were gently laid back down.
Chan and Han didn’t keep you waiting for long, Han sitting near your head and taking the blindfold off while Chan sat in between your spread legs.
“You okay?” Han asks. His cheeks are flushed and he’s slightly sweaty. You notice he only had on his boxers, and the bulge he sports is everything but unnoticeable.
“Yes,” You say, “Are you?”
Changbin snorts from somewhere on the floor, mumbling “So cute.”
Han chuckles at your question before nodding, “I’m doing great”
Chan’s smile is on full display as he rubs at your leg. You look down at him and notice he is fully naked. He’s painfully hard but decides to give you a little longer to recover.
“I’m okay guys, you haven’t broken me yet” You joke
“Yet” Han agrees, winking at you, “Night’s not over”
“We wanna give you a little time to rest sweetheart,” Chan says, but you shake your head in protest
“Please keep going, I need you both”
The two let out matching groans as Han helps you to sit up. He gives you a long sip of water before directing you to lie at the edge of the bed.
Chan had gotten off the bed and pulled you down until your head dangled off. He went near the top of the bed and took his spot in between your legs. Han handed him a condom and a small bottle of lube before he walked in front of your face.
You immediately understood what they were doing, and urged Han to pull down his underwear as Chan rolled on the condom.
“You won’t be able to talk, so tap Han’s thigh if you need a break,” Chan says.
You give him a thumbs up which garners a few laughs from the audience watching you three.
Han pulls out his erection and lines it up with your mouth, just as Chan lines up with your entrance.
At the same time, they slide in.
Your eyes roll back at the feeling of Chan. The slight pain makes you tense up until pleasure fills your body.
You make sure to hollow your cheeks so you don’t bite Han as his viciously face fucks you.
Chan has your legs on his shoulders while he fucks you. They move in sync, making sure to take your breath away with each thrust.
You cum quickly, thanks to you already being sensitive to the other members. Han has a fistful of your hair, letting out a mix of high and low-pitched moans.
Chan is on the quieter side, but you can hear the tiny curses he lets out.
They won’t stop until they manage two more climaxes from you. They wanted to get at least two more, bringing your total number to 8, but you tapped out.
“Next time” You laugh, “I’m sore”
Each member checks up on you, all of them praising you as Chan cleans you off with a warm rag.
You all manage to get to know each other a little more since Felix insists on eating a late dinner while they learn more about you. A call from your friends is what makes you eventually say bye to the group.
They make sure to give you their phone numbers, Minho jokingly points at the NDA on the table before you leave, making you laugh hysterically.
Chan is the one who walks you to the elevator, thanking you for even entertaining them in the first place.
“This was a dream come true for me,” You say, making him laugh
“Oh yeah? So we’ll be seeing more of you?”
“Of course” you nod, “Especially since I get free concert tickets, dates, and time at your place”
“We’ll have to bring you to Korea” He chuckles, “I’ll call you tomorrow”
“Promise?”
“Promise” He grins, leaning down to give you another kiss before you walk onto the elevator.
~~~~|~~~~
Taglist: @chanssmiles @tinyelfperson @lyracarvahall
#skz bang chan#skz changbin#skz felix#skz han#skz hyunjin#skz jeongin#skz lee know#skz seungmin#skz x reader#skz minho#skz#stray kids smut#stray kids fanfiction#stray kids scenarios#skz fake texts#skz imagines#skz scenarios#skz angst#skz fanfic#skz poly x reader#skz stay#skz smut#stray kids fake texts#stray kids fanfic#stray kids texts#stray kids x reader#stray kids reactions#stray kids#stray kids imagine#stray kids smau
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Coalescence part 3/3
Part Two
Summary:
She’s so nervous that her breath catches in her lungs and doesn’t come back out, from her side she can hear Viktor’s foot tapping a frantic rhythm against the tiles. Without even thinking it through, her hand finds his and grabs it tight. He doesn’t pull back, if anything he holds hers even tighter. The question rises once again, unbidden. What are we? AKA: She works with Viktor for seven years, she is in love with him for five of them.
Contains: she/her pronouns, teenie tiny bit of blood kink, explicit sexual content, bittersweet ending.
Word Count: 9166
Read on AO3
“I have someone who might be able to help us,” Viktor says a few weeks later, tangled together with her in his bed. He is tucked in under her arm and she gently runs her fingers through his hair as they slowly wake up for the morning.
Viktor’s work on the Hexcore progressed quickly, but still without a lick of real, tangible success. She sat anxiously near him the first time he discovered that the core had begun to respond to organic matter and attempted to revive one of the very deceased plants from his bedroom. It still haunts her, the way its leaves began to unfurl, the brown quickly wicking away to be replaced by a virile green. She had clutched Viktor’s hand, grinning in anticipation of an answer , before the plant withered and turned to dust.
It continued that way, day after day. Jayce was absent for most of it. Though she and Viktor had what they both deemed more important work to do, Jayce was busy handling the situation with the Zaunites and only stopped by for a few hours every couple of days. Even then he seemed restless, always pacing back and forth and only stopping to see if either of them had succeeded in utilising the Hexcore, creating a cure . However, Viktor never wanted to admit his motives were at all selfish.
She wishes he was selfish. Laying in bed with him, the warm yellow light of sunrise dancing across his pale skin, “That’s good news, isn’t it?” Viktor sighs, “I hope so.” he buries his face in her shirt, “He’s an old mentor, I wouldn’t call him a friend , but-” “Do you trust him?” She asks quickly, tangling her fingers into the hair curled behind his ears.
“Regarding this matter? Yes, I do.”
She readjusts herself, sliding down so she can look him in the eye, holding his cheek in her palm, “Then so do I.” she presses her forehead to his, breathing deeply and closing her eyes, “Whatever you need to do, I trust you and I’ll be here, should you need me.”
It’s true, her faith in him is inexorable. Even after days of watching plants grow as tall as the ceiling only to collapse into dust, even after Professor Heimerdinger stopped by the lab and begged them to destroy the core immediately, her trust in Viktor never wavered. Heimerdinger had been upset. though it was many years ago that he assigned her to be his eyes and ears on the burgeoning production of Hextech, part of him obviously still expected her to defer to him in this matter, for her to agree with him without question. She didn’t, her rejection had been clipped, but polite, though she had to bite her tongue to prevent herself from asking why he was so desperate to see Viktor die for his work, instead of helping him to find any other option.
She isn’t like that. She can’t possibly be like that. She will do whatever he asks of her, she will follow him to his bed every single night just for another chance to hold him. She will keep all burning notions of what are we? buried deep in her chest because now is not the time and the time will probably never come. In all ways, she will be what he needs her to be. Slowly, Viktor’s hand slides up behind her head, holding her against him, “You can’t come with me.” he breathes. At first, she wants to ask why, to accuse him of not trusting her enough, but none of that matters, not really. So instead she replies, “Then I’ll be here when you get back.” she manages a crooked little smile, “Can I ask where you’re going?” “The undercity.” He admits, “I can’t tell you anything more.” She nods, “Okay. Just be safe, promise me that much.” “I promise.” He whispers, leaning up to press a kiss to her temple.
He leaves that evening, and she is anxious. With Jayce away on council business as he is pretty much all the time now and Sky at the botany lab down the hall, there is nothing she can do but worry. As the tensions between Piltover and Zaun reach a fever pitch, the only interest the council has in Hextech is for weaponry and the three of them have refused to even draft a single blueprint related to the matter. So there isn’t even a half-finished project for her to tinker with.
As she paces back and forth, she notices that the Hexcore seems to be following her movements again. Slowly rotating in her direction as she crosses the room, and then back when she returns to her starting point. Despite it being the only lead they have in ever achieving biological augmentation, she doesn’t like looking at it. Whenever she does it spins in a slow, mocking arc and fluctuates its pitch the same way it did the night Viktor almost died, laughing at her. Through the gaps in the runes, the Hextech gemstone is like a winking eye, flashes of it appear as the plates spin and spin. Her brows draw tight and she walks slowly towards it, there are still dust particles floating around in the air from the last plant they experimented on and the light of the moon catches on them. As she steps closer, the Hexcore’s spin slows, daring her, and as if her finger is being pulled by a string she reaches out to touch it.
Nothing. Her finger hits metal and the world doesn’t change.
She curses and kicks the stool at the workbench, knocking it to the ground with a loud clank . The Hexcore’s pitch begins to fluctuate again and she nearly starts a screaming match with the inanimate object when she hears a ruckus outside her window. Stepping over to it, her heart drops like a rock at the sight of a blockade being set up on the Piltover side of the bridge that connects to the Undercity. Unable to think about anything but Viktor stuck on the other side of it, she abandons any thought of getting work done and runs as quickly as she can to Jayce’s room.
***
“I didn’t have a choice .” Jayce says, sitting in an embroidered armchair with his head in his hands, “There wasn’t another option, people from the Undercity are dangerous.” She scoffs, leaning against the wall on the other side of the room, “Dangerous? Look, I may be from topside but I'm not exactly Piltover elite. You’ve been to my childhood home, Jayce, I grew up in the fringes, half my friends growing up were Zaunites, and my parents did most of their shopping there because it was all they could afford.” She crosses her arms, jaw tight as she tries not to blow up at him, “You’ve pushed them too far, push anyone too far and there’s no telling what they’ll do.”
“Well, what was I supposed to do then, huh?” Jayce spits, bouncing his knee at an ever-increasing speed, “Do you want to be on the council? Give it a go? See how you do?” He laughs bitterly, “We have an open spot if you’re interested.”
“An open-” she exhales a disbelieving breath, “Wait. Heimerdinger?”
He doesn’t respond.
“Fuck, Jayce, Heimerdinger? ” Jayce snorts, “It’s not like the two of you were exchanging pleasantries the last time you talked.”
“Oh sure, I’ll bite.” She snaps, “Whatever personal or even scientific issues I may have with Heimerdinger would not get in the way of me using my brain and realising that the rest of the council only wanted him removed for their own interests.”
“It’s more complicated than that-” “Viktor is on the other side of the bridge.” She hisses, “That’s why I came here. To ask my friend if there was something we could do, I didn’t realise you were the one who set this whole fucking thing up.”
“He’s what? ” Jayce exclaims, leaping up from his chair, “Why didn’t he tell me?” “Well, he shouldn’t have to, Jayce! It’s not like he knew that you were going to lock down the city.” She argues, trying hard to ignore the tears of frustration beading in the corner of her eyes, “I was already worried enough without the concern that someone’s insane idea would get him stuck on the other side of the bridge.”
Jayce lets out a shaky breath and runs a trembling hand through his hair, “I-I can let the enforcers know to keep an eye out for him, they can contact me when he arrives.”
“Then you’ll contact me, right?” He turns to her, all anger disappearing as his posture sinks with rapid exhaustion, “Then I’ll contact you.”
She sniffles, her burst of fury slowly melting and leaving her with nothing but that aching anxiety that plagued her all evening. She knows that Viktor will be okay, he’s far more familiar with the Undercity than she is and certainly knows exactly where he is going. Though she hasn't been apart from him this long since the night she found him unconscious on the floor, it makes her feel uneasy, her hands shake.
“Do you want to sleep here?” Jayce asks, sounding defeated, “I probably won’t be sleeping anyway and that way I can update you through the capsule system.”
“Yeah.” She replies weakly, unsettled at the feeling of returning to Viktor’s empty bed, “That would be nice, thank you.”
He sighs and starts heading for the door out to his sitting room, “No problem” “Jayce?” She calls out, stopping him at the doorway, “I meant everything I said, but I'm sorry for yelling at you.” “Yeah.” He says, voice high and tight in his throat, “I’m sorry too.”
***
She receives a capsule from Jayce in the early morning, letting her know that Viktor made his way back safely, but when she goes to meet him in the lab, Jayce is already on his way out. He gives her an uncomfortable look that she completely ignores as she rushes into the lab to find Viktor sitting at his desk with his head in his hands.
He peers up when he hears her coming, expression changing from anger to something more like aching melancholy, his breath rattles in his chest when he sighs, “I hear you and Jayce had an argument, also.” “Yeah, we did, last night.” She replies, “What happened between the two of you?”
He turns back to the desk, working to pull apart what looks like a makeshift grenade, “Councillor Medarda is trying to convince him to build Hextech weaponry” he peers at her over his shoulder, “It’s working.”
She crosses the room and leans up against his desk, hanging her head, “I don’t know what to do, Viktor. I thought I might have made some headway with him last night but-” she shrugs, “I guess I was wrong.”
Viktor rolls his chair forward and rests his forehead against the dip of her waist, “We’ll find another way, without him.” He lets out a shaky exhale, “At least, until he comes back around.” “I'm sure he will.” Her hand finds the top of his head and her fingers tangle in his hair, “How did things go last night? Did you find what you needed?” “I-” he sucks a breath in through his teeth, leaning backward to look up at her face, “I did, yes.” Relief rushes through her, she feels her shoulders relax for the first time in hours, “At least something good came out of this, then.” “The solution is, inelegant and dangerous.” Viktor murmurs, taking her hand in his own, “I understand if-” “No.” She interrupts, lifting their joined hands to her lips and kissing the back of his knuckles, “Tell me what you need me to do.”
___
What are we? She muses, her head resting on Viktor’s bare thigh, peering up at his pained expression above her. She shifts her head a little, for a better view, and blood smears across her cheek. He looks especially beautiful in the dim light of the lab, with only the blue glow of the Hexcore for illumination, even as he bites his lower lip in pain.
“Is that all of them?” She asks, trying to ignore how desperately the words try to stick in her throat.
He heaves a breath and the sound rattles around behind his ribs, he taps a finger to the inside of his thigh, “One more.” “Okay.” She breathes, curling her legs out from under herself and rising to her knees. Careful to steady herself using his good leg despite it being harder to reach. At the correct height, she swallows dryly, lifting the hand that still clutches the scalpel. Her hand shakes as it draws towards him, but he grabs her wrist before she can continue.
His breathing is staccato now, “You don’t have to.” the words clatter from his lips with no precision, all choppy and desperate, “I can do it, this time.” She shakes her head, removing her other hand from his thigh and pressing it over his heart, feeling its desperate pattering behind the birdcage clutch of his ribs, “Let me, please.”
Viktor’s hand slides from her wrist, up the length of her arm, over her bare shoulder and into her hair, fingers digging in tightly to the tangle at the side of her head. She can’t resist leaning into his fingers, lifting the scalpel again and waiting for his nod before she lowers it to his skin. There’s only one rune left that hasn't been carved, she had them all catalogued and knows just which one remains, so her hand is confident even as the blade pierces flesh. A hiss escapes Viktor’s teeth, and his clutch on her hair grows so tight it’s almost painful. She presses on. It aches to see the ruination, the unsightly red carvings on his alabaster skin, but it must be done and if it truly must, she would rather it be by her hand than his. Viktor’s next breath is an even more frightening rattle, she can see his chest heaving, teeth clenched.
“Almost done, I promise,” she whispers, pressing a kiss to his leg.
He nods, eyes squeezed shut and then she brings the blade down for the final cut. Too deep, blood pools around the blade and drips down her wrist, she doesn’t stop until the lines meet and complete the perverse, bloody imitation of a rune. Without thinking, she catches the blood on her wrist with her tongue before it continues its slow descent down her forearm. It's only when the metallic tang hits that she realises she's done it.
She swallows, averting her eyes. The taste of blood refuses to leave her mouth, “Well, that part is done, at least.”
“Yes,” Viktor replies, his voice breathless and wavering, “You…You already have the injector?” It’s on the floor beside her, right by her knee. Her hand shakes so much when she picks it up that she almost drops it. She was already at the academy when shimmer flooded the Undercity, so despite living so close during her childhood she never actually got to see the effects of it first-hand. Viktor showing her the vial was perhaps the only moment of hesitation she felt about this plan of his, if only because the little she knew indicated that it would hurt and it would hurt a lot . Viktor knew this, gripped both her hands and told her that he still wanted to do it, had to do it. He tried to convince her to let him do it alone, knowing that being an active participant in his suffering would only make her upset. Though the idea of him suffering without her there only made her feel worse, so her mind couldn’t be changed.
She rises back up on her knees and rests her free hand on his upper arm. Viktor’s expression softens just a little, and he covers her hand with his own. She takes several sharp breaths in through her nose, exhaling shakily as she lines the injector up with the section of bare thigh left exposed by his brace.
Viktor lets out a breath that almost sounds like a whimper, “You will need to be away from me, when I use the Hexcore.” he pants desperately between his words, struggling to swallow enough air, “Without the shimmer in your system I don't-” he grits his teeth, “I don’t know what it will do to you.”
“Okay.” She breathes, surprised at how calm she sounds, because her hands won’t stop shaking, “Tell me when to go, and I’ll go.” He nods loosely, huffing desperate breaths in through his teeth.
She lets out one final breath, “Now?” “Now.”
He starts to convulse before her finger even gets a chance to leave the trigger. Sickly purple tendrils spread out from the injection site, the whole way down his leg and up to the right side of his face. Viktor tosses his head back in a scream and she leaps up to wrap her arms around his shoulders, holding him as tight as she can with all his thrashing. Words are leaving her mouth, desperate and panicked and so instinctual that she doesn't even hear them, Viktor’s hands leap up underneath her shirt and cling to her bare skin like he’ll lose himself if he isn’t clutching to her.
His nails dig into her upper back and he howls in agony as he drags them down the entire length of her bare skin to the waistband of her skirt. She can feel her skin being pulled up under his nails and can imagine the long red scrapes left behind. She just bites down on a scream and buries her face further into his shoulder, refusing to let him go even as he involuntarily tears into her flesh. He slumps against her, his screams turning to something more like sobs as the shimmer finally settles into his veins and It’s only a few more seconds before he regains enough lucidity to whisper, “Go. Now.”
She does as asked, dropping back to the floor and scurrying backward until she hits a wall. Viktor lets out a pained hiss as he slices open the palm of his hand and she pulls her knees up to her chest, faced with the unbearable fact that for now, all she can do is watch. There isn’t much she can see from behind him, only the anxious curl of his spine and the lopsided arch of his shoulders. She sees him hesitate, retract his hand as he reaches out to the Hexcore, but then it’s like it grabs him and yanks him towards it, his hand coming in contact with a sound akin to a thunderclap and a scream louder than any she’s heard leaves his mouth as the Hexcore begins the unfamiliar process.
There is only so much she can tolerate. From her perspective all she can see is his shoulders jumping up in agony and the flash of purple light. After a few seconds, she can’t bear it any longer and buries her head in her knees, gritting her teeth and trying her best to ignore the sounds. Tears are beading in her eyes and she feels the same way she did the night he almost died when all she could do was sit by and wait . It takes what feels like hours, the sound of his pained yowling and the whining spin of the Hexcore filling the room, but it does eventually come to an end. His screams slow to gasping breaths and the Hexcore slowly returns to its usual ambient G4 hum, then there’s what sounds like a clunk and when her head shoots up she realises it was the sound of him falling to the ground.
She calls his name in a panic, scrambling towards him on all fours and nearly starts to cry with relief when he manages to pull himself up in a seated position and gives her a weak smile. Her hand finds his cheek, luckily the purple glow from the shimmer seems to have receded and she is overjoyed to see that his eyes have returned to their usual gold.
“Sorry.” She says, sniffling and quickly pulling her hand back, “Are you okay? Did it work?” He laughs, but he sounds exhausted. “Let’s find out together.” He moves to start standing, and she rushes to help him. As she reaches out, Viktor rests a hand on her own and wheezes, “Let me do it on my own, please.”
Sitting back on her knees, she lets her hand fall and watches Viktor slowly pull himself to his feet. Her mouth drops open at the sight of his leg, emitting an adamantine glow, with a sheen that would make it seem solidly metal if not for the way it moved, imitations of tendons crisscrossing up the length of it in a brilliant deep purple. With a haggard breath escaping his already exhausted lungs, he finally stands.
It feels oddly right, somehow, to sit on the ground at his feet. To watch his posture uncurl in a way it hasn't in years. His legs are completely straight, anchoring him to the ground, but his upper half still slopes down to the right, akimbo atop his solid foundation. The problems are spinal too, of course, the leg doesn't fix everything, but she still feels awash in vibrancy when he looks down at her from so high above.
He lets out another wheezing breath, that only slightly shatters the sensation of kneeling before divinity and says, “Can you take this off me?” gesturing to his brace.
“Yes! Of course!” She sputters, scrambling forward and rising up on her knees. Her hands are very familiar with the buckles and clasps by now and after only a few seconds the brace falls to the ground with a thud . Still on her knees, she leans forward tentatively and gently pushes up the leg of his underwear so she can press her lips to the seam where flesh ends and the metal begins.
“It hurt a lot, didn’t it?” She asks, breath ghosting over his bare skin.
One of his hands rests on her shoulder, the other tangles in the hair on the back of her head, “Yes, it did.”
“ Does it hurt?”
He swallows, eyebrows pinching like he ain't sure how to respond, after a moment he settles on, “No.”
Satisfied, she presses her cheek against the soft skin of his stomach, breathing slowly in and out.
They stay like that for some time, long enough that her knees start to ache from the hard tiles underneath. And then, when she finally leans back to stare up at him, and his hand comes down to press against her cheek, the question she has been asking herself for years finally decides to manifest itself as a desperate vocalisation, “Viktor…what are-”
His lips collide with hers in a frantic clacking of teeth before she can finish the question and she is all too glad to receive his answer. Her heart does something desperate in her chest, and one of her hands jumps up to tangle in the hair on the back of his head. Viktor wraps an arm around her back and with a surprising amount of strength (residual adrenaline, she assumes) tugs her up to her feet so she can slot her body fully against his. An animalistic sound grinds out from the back of his throat when her mouth opens beneath his and she instinctually hikes one of her legs up over his hip in a desperate bid to be closer forever and ever closer . His hips automatically roll in response to her bumping against him and the sound she lets out is so exhilarated that it almost sounds like a pathetic sob.
His arm tucks under her leg, and the two of them stumble backward until he is leaning up against a desk, she rests her knee on the edge of it and drinks down the sounds of his moans when she grinds her hips against him. Viktor’s mouth feels perfect against hers, his lips well bitten and chapped, his teeth crooked under her tongue. He’s so wonderfully flawed, so delectably human, she wishes that every thought she’s ever had of him could be felt through her touch. That he could just know how long and how painfully she has needed him just through the frantic yank of her hand in his hair. His hands slip up under her shirt, grabbing her bare waist as his tongue meets hers in a desperate and salacious writhe. She hisses when his palms press against the angry scrapes his nails left earlier, but the pain does little to deter her. The exhilaration fizzes and pops in her veins like an electrical discharge, and her heart swells and unfurls, leaving her lost in an addictive warmth that she feels like might wither and die without. One of Viktor’s hands begins a tentative journey up her torso, hesitating at the seam of her brassiere.
Desperate to feel him, she leans back just a little so she can start tearing her own clothes off, and it’s only then that Viktor seems to regain something like lucidity. Letting out a rattling breath against the side of her neck, “We shouldn’t do this here.” he whispers, and his breath against her skin sends shivers down her spine.
She doesn't want to stop, but he’s right, “Your dorm, then?” She breathes, whining when he licks a stripe up the side of her throat.
“Yours.” He corrects and she feels him smile against her skin, “It’s always been closer.” ***
The time that passes as they move from the lab to her dorm feels utterly inconsequential. Viktor breaks into a fit of laughter as he struggles to get his trousers back on, and again when she is so busy kissing his shoulders that he can barely get her out of the way long enough to get his arms in his shirt. His hand never leaves hers as they stumble down the halls and the few minutes it takes pass in a blur, like a skip in time, like two of them leapt completely over the space between two moments, ignoring the connective tissue in between. She arrives at her door, giddy, drunk on the taste of his mouth and the feeling of his hands. It’s hard to get the key in the lock with his arms around her waist and his nose pressed against the side of her throat, but her shaky hands somehow manage the task.
It’s only when they step past the threshold of her dorm that the raging and boiling intensity simmers down to something softer, syrupy and thick in her veins. The door closes behind them and Viktor looms over her, his breathing heavy and slow, eyes the ever-beautiful gold that she has seen in her dreams for the last five years. His brow creases and his breath shakes as he brings his palm to her cheek.
The next kiss is different, there is no clacking of teeth, no desperate groping. His lips press against hers softly, achingly, his other arm wraps around her waist and pulls her close to him. She nearly feels like crying, both her hands slipping up under his untucked shirt and clinging tightly to his shoulder blades. He tilts his head to the side, his thumb rubbing gently across her cheekbone and she feels herself melt into him, all the sharp edges of him dig into her skin and the sensation is exquisite. They separate with a heaving of breath and Viktor’s hand slides from her cheek to the back of her head and he leans down to press his forehead to hers.
“Do you have any idea how long I have wanted to do that?” He whispers.
Her face breaks into a wide smile, warmth dancing from her heart out to the tips of her fingers, “Enlighten me.”
“Years.” He replies, and even with her eyes closed she can hear the smile on his lips.
She laughs quietly, “Then we’re even.”
Viktor pulls back and when she looks up at him she sees his beautiful eyes are like molten gold, wide open and vulnerable. He reaches out to brush some of her hair out of her face, and then ducks down and leaves an almost possessive kiss beneath her ear that sends shivers straight through her.
“Wasn’t there something you planned to do to me, now that we’re behind closed doors?” He whispers.
“Many things.” She responds eagerly, “Why? Was there something you planned to do to me?”
He chuckles against her throat, “Many things.” he repeats.
Viktor follows enthusiastically when she grabs him by the hand and leads him back to her bedroom, more enthusiastically when she encourages him to sit on the edge of her bed and she swings a leg over both of his. His lips return to hers in a fervour, arms wrapping around her impossibly tight. She moans aloud when his tongue meets hers, and again when his hips buck up underneath her. Her hands leap up to the collar of his shirt, shakily undoing the buttons, “I’m glad you put your clothes back on.” She breathes, kissing along the length of his prominent collarbone when the fabric drops away, “I’ve always wanted to take them off you.”
Viktor’s head lolls back in a whine when she sucks a pretty purple mark at the join between his shoulder and neck. It’s the most significant sound she’s ever heard, she catalogues it, makes a mental note to remember the exact pitch for later. She hasn’t touched music composition in years now, too entangled in Hextech and in Viktor , but she’d like to write something with that note in it, to immortalise him, to hear him forever. The shirt slides down his shoulders and she’s delighted to find that the flush on his cheeks also runs down to his chest and up to his ears.
“Now what are you doing?” He asks, teasing, as she drops to her knees between his legs
She rests her head on his thigh, the way she always does, but this time her hands reach up to undo the fastenings on his trousers, “Helping.” She responds coyly, grabbing the waistband of his pants and undergarments in one go, “Lift up for me?” He blinks for a moment, “Oh, ah, yes. Of course.”
Her eyes are drawn back to his augmented leg the moment it is revealed again. The glow of it, the elegant replication of musculature, golden rings encircling it in all the spots she remembers his brace once being. When she peers up, she notices Viktor intently looking at her, head tilted to the side.
“Does it…bother you?” He asks, stilted, nervous.
She smiles and shakes her head, “It’s you, how could it?” she kisses the criss-cross of metal at his knee, “Do you feel that?” His brow creases, “Not precisely .” he says, “It’s ehh more pressure, than sensation.” “Okay, then.” She brings her hand up underneath his thigh, rubbing firmly from behind his knee all the way up to the crease where his thigh meets his pelvis, “Do you feel that? ” A strangled moan escapes him and his head lolls forward in a nod, “Yes, acutely .”
That knowledge cemented, she rises up on her knees, rubbing firm circles on the inside of his metal thigh. Enamoured with the odd, synthetic warmth it emanates, the ambient hum she can feel under her palm. Her other hand slides up his flesh thigh, over the prominent bump of his hipbone and to the smooth plain of his stomach. She feels his muscles tense under her hand. They tense some more when she offers a tentative lick to the head of his cock. His breath quickens above her, one of his hands coming to rest on the back of her head and he chokes when she actually takes him into her mouth, his fingers digging tight into her hair. She bobs her head and his hips buck once, shallow and without thought. One of those foreign expletives she’s gotten used to hearing escapes his mouth and she notices that his other hand is fisted in the sheets.
He’s so pretty. Chest heaving with panting breaths, throat bobbing as he tries not to moan. It feels a little bit like desecration, unravelling him like this. She moans around him, breathing in deep through her nose as the head of his cock meets the back of her throat. He’s babbling, she likes that.
“ Milackú ” He breathes, and then translates, “ Darling .”
She’s overwhelmed, the feeling of him warm in her mouth, the incessant electrical hum of his leg, the way he whispers and hisses sweet things through his teeth for her all for her. The hand she has on his stomach slides off to the side grabbing his where it is fisted in the sheets, interlocking their fingers as she starts moving her head at a more consistent rhythm. Viktor is panting desperately above her, hips twitching and writhing and she can hardly believe that she is the one doing it to him. Tears bead in her eyes when he slips down the back of her throat and the tip of her nose presses against his pelvis. His hand grips hers so tightly that her fingers start going numb and when she slides her mouth back up, fully intending to go all the way back down again, Viktor holds her head still urging her to stop
“As much as I am enjoying myself.” He slurs, voice thick and unfathomably rich, “There’s more I would like to do with you.” While she would have been content languishing with the warmth of him inside her throat for at least another hour. She does as asked, releasing his cock from her mouth with a lurid pop and wiping the saliva from her chin with the back of her hand. Viktor quickly encourages her to get back on top of him and she lets out a breathless little giggle when he falls backwards onto the mattress and pulls her down with him. Their lips meet again, though the kiss is more languid, explorative. He likes when she sucks on his lower lip and she likes when his tongue traces her upper row of teeth. There is still a lot to learn, to research . He is by far her favourite area of study, truly the only methodology able to hold her attention. She could spend years like this, his thighs trapped between both of hers, his warm and perfect mouth slotted against her own. Kissing and kissing and kissing .
Suddenly he grips her by the shoulders and pushes off the bed with his augmented leg to flip them both over, her breath escapes her lungs in a gasp when her back hits the mattress, and again when Viktor slots his lips against the side of her throat. He alternates between kissing and sucking on her skin, all the way from behind her ear and down to her shoulder and a wash of pleasure zaps down between her thighs when she imagines what a lovely shade of purple her neck must be now.
His hand reaches for the hem of her shirt, and he removes his mouth from her skin just long enough for him to ask, “May I?” “You can do anything you’d like to me.” She breathes, breath catching when his teeth nip at her neck, “You don’t have to ask.”
Viktor hums thoughtfully, lifting his head to meet her eyes, “That’s an awful lot of permission you’re giving me.”
“It’s mine to give, isn’t it?” She replies, craning her head up to press a soft kiss to his lips, “I trust you to use it wisely.”
He lets out something a little bit like a moan, resting his weight back on his knees so that he can use both hands to slowly push the fabric of her shirt up. His hands press to her sides as they move, lingering against her bare waist, holding her tightly, before continuing up and over her chest. She arches up instinctually, whimpering at the feeling of his large hands holding her ribs between them. Viktor’s pupils are blown wide, leaving only a sliver of beautiful gold around the circumference of them like the sun eclipsed by the moon. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and his brow pulls tight for a second.
“You don’t need to ask, Viktor.” She teases, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
He chuckles a little, “Why have you always been so good at reading my mind?”
The wanton arch of her spine gives him enough room to easily get around to the back of her brassiere and undo the clasps. It’s tossed to the floor a second later, replaced by Viktor’s mouth on one side and his hand on the other. The moan that escapes her comes from somewhere deep in her throat, it’s almost a howl . Viktor responds to her moan with one of his own, and she can feel the vibration of the sound around her sensitive nipple, it makes her back arch, desperate to get further into his mouth. Literally and figuratively, she wants him to consume her. If she really could read his mind, she would have begged him to take his fill of her so long ago. His fingers pinch her other nipple hard enough to make her yelp, but the sound quickly devolves into a moan once the surprise subsides.
His mouth moves, then, his fingers continue plucking at and circling her nipple as he begins slowly kissing his way down her sternum, stopping just above the waistband of her skirt. Her breath is coming quickly now. Viktor doesn’t feel the need to ask as he slides the fabric up and over her hips, nor does he feel the need to before he sucks a purple mark to the inside of her thigh. Her resounding moan is loud enough that she has to clap a palm over her mouth to quiet the sound.
Viktor peers up at her from between her thighs, she can’t see the lower half of his face, but his eyes are crinkled in a smile, “That won't do.” He says mischievously, “You are about to make a lot of noises.” he kisses her thigh, “And I would like to hear them all.”
She feels a pang of arousal in her gut and suddenly finds it difficult to swallow, “Confident, are we?” she says, though her shaky voice makes it sound a whole less teasing than she’d hoped.
“In this area?” Viktor replies, “Absolutely.”
He doesn't need to ask for her to raise her hips, the moment she feels him grabbing for the waistband of her undergarments she already has them in the air. He lets out a shaky breath as the fabric slides down her legs and then chuckles as she struggles to shake it off her left ankle. For the first time, it’s him resting his head on her thigh, the hand on her breast sliding down to cup around the base of her ribs, thumb tracing the bone where it rests beneath her skin, “have you imagined this?”
“I-” she swallows, certain that he can feel the race of her heart beneath his hand, “I have, many times.” Viktor hums, his other hand moving between her thighs, rubbing just one knuckle over her sex, so gently that it makes her shiver, “So have I.” he replies, a single finger now pressing between her folds and moving in one swipe up from her entrance to her clit, “Sometimes like this, sometimes with you on top of me.” His voice stays remarkably steady, but she does catch a shake in his next exhale. She watches with something bordering on reverence as he lowers himself to rest on his forearms, his next breath ghosting across the wetness of her sex.
“Let me give you everything I’ve ever wanted to give you.” He breathes, and then descends.
Even the first languid swipe of his tongue is enough to have her tangling a hand into his hair, her legs hiking up, heels digging into the mattress. Viktor hums against her, one hand still holding tightly by her ribs, the other now rubbing soft circles around her entrance with his pointer finger. It’s just enough that she can feel it, enough that it’s frustrating he isn't giving her more. She whimpers when he gives her clit a firm lick, her hips stuttering up towards his mouth and then nearly sobbing when he returns to softly lapping at her instead of keeping his tongue where she craves it.
Then his finger finally penetrates her, only to the first knuckle, but with how sensitive and wet she already is, it’s enough to have her tugging hard on his hair. Viktor grunts against her, so she loosens her grip in a panic. He laughs, “No need to be gentle on my account.” she gasps when he pushes the finger in the rest of the way, “In fact, I’d prefer if you didn’t.”
That thought sends a bolt of arousal coursing through her, she licks her dry lips and releases a shaky breath, “Then I won’t.” She pants, curling his hair around her fingers and using the grip to yank his face further into her cunt. Viktor lets out an utterly salacious moan and rewards her by pressing a second finger inside. His fingers are long and dextrous, thin enough that she feels the ridge of each knuckle when he slowly begins sliding them in and out of her at an utterly tortuous pace. She can’t stay still, one hand fisted into her bedsheets and the other with a white knuckle grip in his hair. Her body feels like a coiled spring, unbearable tension locks all her joints, tendons and muscles, unsure whether the feeling is too much or somehow not enough at the same time.
A third finger joins the first two without complaint, it slides in so completely and all at once that she barely notices the intrusion at first. It’s only when Viktor moans against her and mutters, “You take my fingers so easily…” that she becomes aware of the additional stretch. He had been right about her making lots of sounds, there is a ceaseless babble of moans and whimpers and half-formed words escaping her lips at every confident thrust of his fingers. Her hips move of their own volition, her throat is starting to hurt from her own panting breath. The coil in her belly grows tighter and tighter, warmth blooming out from her centre all the way out to her toes and fingers, the slick sounds of his fingers sliding inside her, curling up in just the right way to make her sob, his moans vibrating against her overly sensitive clit. It’s so much, it’s nearly too much. She doesn't even think she wants to finish, she wants to stay hovering suspended in this moment forever, the feeling of his hair between her fingers, the sound of his voice, he could keep her trapped here for all eternity and she wouldn't even have the sense to complain.
Viktor has other ideas, pressing his fingers firmly inside her, lips encircling her clit and the hand on her torso sliding up to circle her nipple. The climax hits all at once, her spine curling up off the bed in a trembling arch. The euphoria is so exact, so precise that it almost hurts and her head tosses back in an utterly sinful moan. Viktor continues his ministrations between her legs, slower, helping her come back down gently instead of with an abrupt shock. When he notices the tension leave her limbs, he presses a slow kiss to the inside of her thigh and rises back up on his knees, wiping the lower half of his face with the back of his hand. She gets that feeling again, that she is lying in prostration before the face of divinity. Viktor certainly looks the part, the dim lighting in her dorm catches on his high cheekbones, his collarbones and his leg emits a purple light that casts a gentle wash across his pale skin. She likes looking up at him, likes him looking down at her. It’s as though it is destined, a tapestry woven between the two of them, that he will stand tall and she will be honoured to kneel at his feet. The feeling only breaks when his breath starts to wheeze.
It startles her back to reality and she scrambles up to her knees, resting her hand on his upper arm as her eyes dart over him in a panic, “Viktor…I’m sorry, are you- are you alright?”
He coughs into his elbow and that only makes her more worried. There’s no blood this time, thankfully, “I’m fine.” He replies tersely.
The leg doesn't fix everything, she remembers. His lungs are still fighting against him and his spine is unused to so much strain without the support of his brace. He doesn’t want her pity though, that’s never what he wants and she knows that. So she gives him a coy smile instead, leaning in towards his ear and whispering, “You said something about imagining me on top of you, didn’t you?” He laughs, it’s more of a rasp than she would like, but she still loves hearing it, “I know what you’re doing.”
“I’m not doing anything right now, that’s exactly the problem.” She replies, leaving a trail of kisses down the side of his neck, “Care to change that?” Viktor concedes, kissing her temple before moving to the other end of the bed, leaning himself up against the pile of pillows at the headboard. He looks very pretty with his pink cheeks and kiss swollen lips, even though she can still see and hear his breath rasping behind his ribs, “I will not be convinced so easily next time.” He says slowly as she climbs on top of him, tilting his head up to press his lips to the underside of her jaw, “ Next time , I will give you everything you deserve.” Her heart thrums, beating to the rhythm of next time, next time, next time . There’s a significance to that phrase, that they will find a way to cure him and that once they do he will have her, in every way he has ever wanted. A giddy little smile toys at the corner of her lips as she reaches between her legs to help angle herself over him, “Only if you let me return the favour.” A gasp punches out from his lungs when she takes the first inch of him and he pants, “It sounds like it will be an incredibly long endeavour, then.” “I hope it will.” She replies, letting out a long moan as he slips the rest of the way inside her, “A few days at least.” Viktor has his eyes squeezed shut, but still manages to laugh, “How ever will we get time away from the lab for this proverbial gauntlet?” She loops her arms over his shoulders, breath catching as she moves her hips, “We could always do some of it in the lab.” Viktor sputters and she swears that she feels him pulse inside of her, “That would be unsanitary.” She rocks her hips again, fully this time, relishing in the blissed-out whine that escapes his mouth, “Oh? And I thought the idea might have appealed to you.” she leans in close, pressing a single kiss to his open mouth, “Viktor…” she whispers, “Have you been imagining it?”
His hips stutter upwards into her and she lets out a shocked whine at the feeling of his cock suddenly pressing deeper . Viktor’s throat bobs and he replies, “ Constantly .” his next breath sounds more like a moan, and when his eyes meet hers they are hooded and lecherous , “Though it would still be unsanitary.”
“We can figure something out, I’m sure.” She tilts her head down breath ghosting over his lips as she whispers, “Later, though.” and then presses their lips together in an addictive, luxurious, open-mouthed kiss. Both of Viktor’s hands jump to her waist as her tongue explores his mouth, gasping loudly when she finally starts moving her hips in earnest. It’s barely even a kiss, just a thoughtless press of tongues and lips as she struggles to maintain a consistent rhythm. He feels utterly divine inside of her, the stretch has her moaning and whimpering with every roll of her hips, desperate to feel him deeper, faster .
She whines when Viktor pulls his lips from hers, and then again but louder when he moves his mouth to her breast instead, sucking, biting and swirling his tongue in equal measure as she rides him. It hasn’t been long since her orgasm, so everything is so desperately sensitive and wet, even the sounds are deliciously perverse. She can hear Viktor’s breath huffing against her chest, his hands are clutching to her so tightly that she thinks- no, she hopes that she will have bruises come morning. The idea of that, the possibility of a permanent mark left by his fingertips, five perfect prints spread out across her skin. It’s enough to make her moan all on its own.
Then, with one of those foreign curses jumping out from between his clenched teeth, Viktor digs the heel of his adamantine leg into the mattress and uses the force to thrust up into her hard and deep. He hits exactly where she needs him to, her head tossing backwards in a blissed-out moan as he fills her so completely. Viktor is a quick study. Once he realises he is now capable of doing that , he keeps doing it, languishing in slow and torturously deep thrusts that leave her a writhing mess on top of him. He grunts, tilting his head up and wrapping a hand around the back of her head to press their foreheads together, “How does that feel?”
“It’s - ahh!” He cuts her off with another thrust, “It’s perfect, you’re perfect. Ahh! Viktor, please, I-” This time she is cut off by his other hand sliding around to the front of her, his thumb rubbing small quick circles over her already sensitive clit, “I love you.” she blurts, devoid of any of the sense that might have stopped the words from escaping. She’s held them for years now, somewhere in the depth of what are we, clamped tightly behind her teeth but always on the tip of her tongue and now that they’re out it's like an onslaught, she can’t stop them, “I love you!” she exclaims, hips stuttering forward into his hand, grinding down onto his cock. Tears are beading in her eyes, from pleasure, from emotion, “I love you, I love you!” both her hands reach up to cradle Viktor’s cheeks and his expression is soft, his brows lifted and his mouth hanging open in awe as if he can’t believe she is even there. He clutches her tighter, his forehead dropping to rest on her shoulder, the two of them now pressed together from collarbone down to waist. His thumb doesn’t cease its ministrations, his hips still pump up into hers, but the pace has changed, it’s languid, adoring.
“ Milackú” he nearly sobs into her shoulder, “I love you too.”
His echo of her own confession is what does her in. She clutches to him tightly, arms wrapped around his shoulders as the rolling of her hips grows loose and rhythmless. She’s burning up, she's turning to stardust and returning to the cosmos. Her voice catches in her throat on a broken sob of his name, the slick rub of his thumb never ceasing, she buries herself in him as best she can, crying out as the pressure releases with a burst, holding him so tight she can’t tell where he ends and she begins. In the midst of that, her tightness, her all around him, Viktor finds his own end. Tumbling over the edge with a cry of her name, arms wrapping fully around her middle.
Time seems to slow again. There is nothing more than their intermingling breaths, the smell of sweat and of sex, and the sound of their rapid heartbeats. Sometime later, they separate, though time feels liminal and strange, so it’s hard for her to remember exactly when. She goes to the bathroom, she cleans up, and at some point, Viktor does the same. He returns to her bed, though, and that’s the important part. He smiles as he climbs in under the sheets, scoots over to her and presses a soft kiss to her temple. She tucks some of his hair behind his ear and relishes in the fact that she is allowed to see him so close, close enough that she can count his eyelashes, and see his crooked teeth when he smiles again.
“What now?” She asks, stroking her thumb over his cheekbone.
He turns his head to the side, pressing a kiss to her palm, “We work on the Hexcore, we talk some sense into Jayce and then we make the world a better place.” She laughs, “Lofty expectations as always.” “Eh, what can I say? I’m a scientist.”
Her lips meet his in a gentle kiss, “Just sleep for now, we’ll work everything out in the morning.”
Viktor laughs quietly, his arm resting gently over the dip of her waist and his eyes fall closed. She doesn't even try falling asleep yet, instead she just watches, enamoured with him, in love with him. She traces her fingers over the bare skin of his arm, watching his face as he finally settles into a deep sleep. It’s been a long time since she last saw him sleep without his brows pinching tight, without him grinding his teeth, but for once, he seems completely at peace. She smiles. He looks perfect in her sheets, brown hair tousled over her pillowcase and the light of the moon painting him completely luminescent.
They would figure out the next step together, the Hexcore would solve all of their problems and they would have each other forever. She leans forward and presses a kiss to his temple, she wants to worship him, to subjugate herself for him, to let him use her to climb wherever he needs to reach. What they are is inexorable, two souls, spirits and bodies that cannot be untangled, an evangelical coalescence the way she always dreamed. Where he goes she will follow, unthinking, subservient. Her hand shakes with the significance of what they have become, what they will be, as she gently holds his perfect face in her palm.
What aren’t we? She wonders as she slowly falls asleep.
#bree writes occasionally#viktor/reader#viktor x reader#arcane x reader#arcane fanfiction#viktor fanfiction
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Socialite series: mentality
Here is a list of tips I keep pinned on my notes app.
You have to be competent in order for people to be jealous of you. No one is going to be jealous of a lazy bum. Making people jealous isn’t the purpose of your life but it does indicate whether you’re successful or not. The better you are, the more haters you will have. Develop a strong sense of self esteem and get rid of your mediocrity.
If you weren’t invited, not informed or given a late invite - do not go.
Nothing more embarrassing than showing up to an event where you weren’t invited. Now, if you were given a “pity invitation” don’t be rude in declining it. Be polite, cordial and respectfully turn it down.
Learn to be assertive without being aggressive and triggered. Keep a strong hold on your facial expressions and tongue. Raising your voice, rolling your voice, throwing insults only reflects badly on you. Learn to stay calm, cordial, facially inexpressive and poised during uncomfortable situations. You will be seen as someone with an upper hand because you’re clearly not falling for stupid shit and it’s very obviously beneath you.
Every group has the most influential leader. Figure that person out. See who people seek the most validation from, who makes the group decisions, who starts the gossiping - you found em. If you still can’t tell, there’s one more way - the most influential person is the richest or the prettiest in that circle. It’s normally one or the other. Even among rich circles, one person will stand out and people will lick her butthole if they could. I can give a solid example for this. A billionaire got married to his girlfriend, and she’s a part of my private business organisation. The rest of the members in our cohort are rude, indifferent, cliquey and snarky. However, when she enters the room, there is an instant reaction towards her - they all want to be friends with her, they’re nice to her, etc etc. She’s a lovely, sweet and pretty girl (thank God) but it just proves that even among the rich - the person with the most desired value (rich or pretty) stands out. The point being is this - if the most influential person tries you, nip that disrespect in the bud. Do not take shit from this person because the rest of the clique will follow suit. And keep the assertive point in mind.
Be open to different thoughts. But hold your ground and exude confidence. It’s okay if you don’t have an opinion on something. But if you do - don’t feel insecure in expressing it. I have a friend who’s really insecure. She often expresses her mind in a “questioning” way. for instance: a waiter was rude to her. She told us that story. But she seemed so hesitant: “I guess… he was rude??? I thinkkkkk he was rudeeee?” ‘I guess’ ‘I just’ ‘I think’ are what I call insecure statements. They make you look insecure and weak. A lot of insecure people tend to end their sentences in a questioning tone (pitch goes up instead of down). When you end your sentence with your pitch going down, you come across as confident.
When you are a beautiful, smart, well rounded woman, people crave for your validation. People want to be associated with you because it reflects well on them. Do not give your time or energy to bloodsuckers.
Be polite, NOT friendly. Don’t overextend friendship. You’re not their mommy. You don’t have to look out for people.
Pretty privilege exists. Being skinny and pretty 100% changes the way people look at you. They will treat you with respect and kindness.
#i’m just a girl#this is what makes us girls#female manipulator#divine feminine#just girly thoughts#this is a girlblog#female hysteria#it girl#hyper feminine#girlblogging#Socialite series#Socialite#Hypergamy#leveling up#that girl#soft life#level up journey#high value woman
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trembling still vol. 2
summary: harry and y/n try something new.
warnings: coarse language, smut, rimming (m receiving)
pairing: harry styles x fem!reader
•••
“What are you doing?”
Harry moved his head from where it was peeking out from the duvet he had pulled up all the way to his neck to look at Y/N, who was standing near the door as she was taking her clothes off. She was chuckling still as she took her clothes from the floor and tossed them to the chair on the other side of the room, sitting next to Harry’s completely covered body on the bed as she waited for a response, her head cocked to the side a little with an amused smile on her face.
“I’m just, you know… a little nervous.” Harry shrugged and turned over, lying on his back instead of on his stomach, the duvet still pulled up all the way over his body despite him being pretty naked underneath it. He had been nervous since yesterday, actually, the day he asked her to try out this new… thing with him. He was pretty okay when she wasn’t in the room, but now that she was… his heart was definitely beating faster than it was before and it felt like it was slowly sinking further and further down his chest.
Yesterday…
“Rimming? Is that what you said? I literally cannot hear you, H.”
Harry’s cheeks grew even hotter and he cleared his throat, shaking his head subtly even though he shouldn’t have because, yes, rimming was what he definitely said. He was just so nervous! So many questions were now flying through his head, the same ones he had come up with moments before the words came out of his mouth. What if she was weirded out now? What if she was too weirded out now? What if she was so weirded out that she would figure that Harry was into other weird things which would result in her leaving him because things were just too weird?
“So… it’s not what you said? What did you say?” Y/N had put all of her attention on him, her phone now lying on her lap where she had been scrolling on Pinterest for a little while, adding pins to her boards and whatnot, which was worse for Harry because now she was looking at his very hot face that he couldn’t seem to cool down whatsoever.
“You know what? Nevermind, it’s fine, it’s nothing.” He gave her a tight-lipped, polite smile to hopefully end the conversation, making Y/N chuckle from how strange and awkward he was being.
“Harry, you know I’m always open to try new things with you. Sexual or not, I’m open to anything. Have to trust me on this one, H.” She had shuffled closer and brought a hand up to poke one of his dimples after speaking, resting her head against the soft cushions of the couch. “So c’mon, what is it? I won’t judge, I won’t ever.” She reassured once more and grasped Harry’s hand, running her thumb over his knuckles as she awaited his reply.
The reason Harry had wanted to try rimming anyway was simply because he was watching some porn when Y/N was away on a business trip for two weeks and Harry was left all alone in their home, missing her presence and touch. He just accidentally stumbled upon a video about rimming and got curious so he watched it, watching the man groan and whine and whimper as the woman behind him licked into him, sometimes moaning against him purely because of the sounds the man was letting out. The video ended with Harry’s hand over his mouth, his eyes squeezed shut, and his toes curling so deliciously.
The thought of him and Y/N in those positions hadn’t left his mind since.
“I wanna try it.” Harry said with more clarity, clearing his throat before clarifying what he was talking about even further. “Rimming–I mean. It’s fine if you don’t want to, obviously, I wouldn’t wanna force you or any-”
“You want me to eat you out?”
Harry parted his lips, a little surprised from her bluntness, despite it being nothing really that new.
“Yeah.” Harry replied quietly. “Is that okay?”
“Sure, yeah, we can try that.” She shrugged nonchalantly, smiling. “Tomorrow?”
Present time.
“Well, don’t be. It’ll be fun, yeah? And it’ll feel great, I promise.” Y/N chuckled, now sitting next to him on the bed. She slowly pulled the duvet over Harry’s body down until his entire torso was exposed to the cool air of their bedroom, goosebumps rising from his skin. She leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his chest, glancing up at his face that was now more flushed than before, her lips tugging up at the corners a little as she maneuvered to straddle him, her knees digging into the spots beside Harry’s. She mouthed at the part she kissed for a moment before letting the kisses trail down, sometimes darting her tongue out to see Harry shiver.
“Just relax.” She mumbled against his skin, throwing the duvet away to the other side of the bed so she could see all of Harry, lips parting in surprise when she saw the delicate lacy white panties he had on, sneaking a finger under it to pull it back and snap it back against his skin, making Harry whimper and shift his hips away from her, as if he was embarrassed and didn’t want her to see.
“S-sorry, I wanted to try them on and-”
“You look so pretty.”
Harry hadn’t even realized he was already gripping the sheets, loosening his grip as he looked up at her, gasping wetly as he felt her hand palming against him.
“So are they okay?”
“Jesus, more than.” She chuckled, pulling them down his thighs gently. Harry’s eyes fell shut and he felt more at ease now, his heart rate slowing down as he tried his best to relax because he was just so tense. Had been since yesterday.
“Can’t believe you’re wearing these…” She murmured, wrapping a wet hand around his cock and giving him a few slow strokes, listening to Harry moan softly and shift a little. She kept up with that for a little while, teasing Harry by never going faster, staying gentle and slow to have him wanting more. She would lean down and mouth at his neck, paying extra attention to the special spots he liked and leaving a few marks, uttering filthy things that had Harry blushing furiously.
“Can you turn over?” She mumbled against his cheek before she sat back up against Harry’s thighs. “I wanna… I wanna see you.”
At first, Harry was a little confused. She could see him, but nevertheless, he shifted over so he was on his hands and knees, burying his flushed into the pillow beneath him. His forearms were supporting his weight and all he could feel was Y/N pulling the panties back up, feeling them snap against his hips. God, she was purely just admiring him, groping at his ass greedily and leaving bite marks against the soft flesh.
“You’re horrible.” She mumbled jokingly against Harry’s skin before she pulled the panties down until they fell against the backs of his knees, and finally…
“O-oh, fuck.” Harry had lifted himself up from the bed, gasping and moaning from surprise when he felt her wet tongue against him, allowing himself to slowly go back down and leaning into it, sighing from pleasure and finally getting what he had been wanting for so long. He felt Y/N’s hand glide up his back, before she moved it back down slowly whilst pushing down as well, encouraging him to arch his back further and to push back against her.
“Fuck.” Harry breathed out, gulping. He couldn’t spread his legs because the panties were in the way and were restricting him, only able to arch his back and just indulge. His hands were gripping the pillow tightly, sometimes muffling his loud noises against them. It felt so weirdly good and he couldn’t get enough of it, unable to stop himself from mumbling “more, more” and resisting the urge to touch himself because he wanted it to last.
“See?” Y/N murmured after pulling away for a second, groping at Harry’s ass and lightly digging her nails into his flesh, “It does feel good, doesn’t it?” A smile was playing on her lips and she reached around his thigh to get a hand around his cock, causing him to groan and bury his face into the pillow again, making Y/N ‘tsk’.
“Don’t hide your moans.” She said softly as she was leaning back down, “They’re what I like best.”
“Fuck, I’m- I’m close.” Harry moved the pillow out of the way and put it beside him, resting his forehead against his forearms instead, eyes closed and toes curled.
a/n: finally, here it is! the longer version of trembling still! i hope it was okay and more fulfilling than the first version, feedback is always appreciated! love you thank you so much for reading!! 🫂💋
🏷: @crow-i-guess, @planetflos, @harrycanyonmoonn, @bxtchboy69, @sweet-as-lilacs, @lyricalniall, @venusincleo (couldn’t tag you!), @bxbun111, @tenaciousperfectionunknown, @emispleased, @goldenhrry, @cinnamongirlrry, @manifestrry, @sadqn1, @judesgfirl, @taylorsreputationsversion, @violetsandfluff, @phoebebridgersforqueen, @a-strange-familiar, @moonlightbea-33 (couldn’t tag you!), @famedrs-blog, @coochiesteak, @blahblahblah-888 (couldn’t tag you!), @milesisntdonewritingyet, @harrysgoth, @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite, @cinnamonlola, @youcan-nolonger-run, @velvetrylie, @vamprry, @ellie-loveshs, @suplisurlo
#sub!harry#subrry#harry styles#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fluff#harry styles smut#harry styles x reader#harry styles x fem!reader#harry styles x you#sub!harry x soft dom!reader#soft dom!reader#soft dom!y/n#sub!harry x dom!reader#dom!reader#dom!y/n#writing
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I won't cry for yesterday (part 1); Jack Chambers:
*Mentions of death, grief, troubled relationships, dysfunctional family units, mental, emotional, physical abuse, PTSD, violence, abusive relationships, overprotective parenting, deep angst, poor self image, attachment issues, marriage problems....etc..*
Jack would always remember that one winter in December. In fact, he knew he'd never forget it that one winter's day, when San Deigo weather held this polite chill in the air, but nothing more than just a thin jacket and maybe more bulky jeans than the summer and spring ones that were stored in the closet somewhere. A quiet early evening that smelled of a husky cigar smoke- not from Jack, but from when Dean was there only a few hours earlier, sitting on the couch, legs crossed talking about what their winter break plans where for the upcoming Christmas and the looming New Year's.
Jack could almost taste how that ham tasted that day. Rich, ripe and pure; fresh from the market, Alice took excellent pride in how she cooked it- simmering it just right for it to be tender- fall off the bone type like ribs, but stern enough for a squishy clean chew.
A letter had arrived around four that day. Jack only getting to it around six, once he returned home from the store. Alice placed it neatly on the table for when Jack would arrive and see that it still neat- unopened and crisp, like how a letter should be.
But something about this letter was different. It held a more mysterious linger than a bill or a empty advertisement for nothing. Opening it with shaky hands, Jack grasped the letter and read carefully through each line.
Dear Jack,
This is your mother, Lucy. I have to inform you that your father is very sick. He's been dignoised with stage four colon cancer and he doesn't have much time. Please come visit to say goodbye if you can. David really wants to see you one last time.
Sincerely,
Lucy.
Jack held the letter, carefully re-reading it, over and over, until he finally made contact with the address. The same New York hell shack he was forced to call home until age twenty. Licking his lips, Jack set the letter aside and thought for a moment. Should I? Rang through his mind like church bells. Sitting on the surface of his brain before mellowing into the depths of it, Jack felt lost. David, his father; father and son had a complicated history with each other and to pretend as if it still didn't exist or that the pain didn't live on inside of Jack- nesting its own little home inside of the corners of his mind- something he hated the most about his brain.
Jack swallowed hard, like he was forced to ingest a nasty liquid splashing over the back of his throat. Getting up, he met with the little liqour cabinet, pouring himself a scotch before taking it upstairs with him. Giving one last look to the card, Jack shook his head slightly before going upstairs. Somehow, he already made his decision. Besides....David was miles away in New York city and Jack was settled here in California. He would never make it in time....and he never thought to try.
*********************************************
"Alice," she stood at the stove flipping eggs and sasuages in the pan. "Yes?"
"The letter that came in the mail for me the other day.... it was... it was from my mother." Alice turned around. Dead in her tracks, spatula frozen mid air in her hand. "Lucy?"
"Yeah...."
"How did she find...... why did she send that letter?" Jack raised his brows a bit. "My father.... he's dying. He had colon cancer- last stages.... she wanted me to come to New York to say goodbye to him." Alice stared at Jack before he looked up at her, meeting her concerned eyes.
"I don't know if I can..." Alice swallowed. "I know.. it's.... well.... not something that was expected. At all." She set the spatula down, turned the knob of the stove- simmering down the flames- and sat across from Jack at the table. Placing a hand over his, she looked at him with her sweet cat eyes. "I know David was never the best father... at all. But... whatever you decide... I'll support you." Kissing his thumb, Alice turned and went back to the stove, finishing up breakfast. Jack stayed at the table, eyes locked on the placemat in front of him. Biting his lip, Jack finally let his mind wander in the direction he wouldn't let it go in last night.
He didn't want to say goodbye to David. He could never make up for everything he's done to Jack. Maybe he even deserved to die in the first place. Shallow. Jack felt shallow for thinking up such a thing. But nothing else could be truer than how he felt about that. Taking a sip of his freshly poured coffee, Jack let himself settle into contentment.
Until later the next morning. The newspaper was thrown on their front steps. Jack held it- like every morning- scanning for the latest news when he saw the obituary of David Chambers in the left corner. His stomach knotted. His palms begin to sweat and his breath sped up before laboring down into small shaky gasps. Jack expected this. He knew David was going to die. A jubilant feeling warmed around him, like a knot in a rope that's been pulled to the breaking point, had finally ripped and come undone all on its own. A weight slowly fell from Jack's shoulders and a small smile crept over his face. Jack kicked himself- he should've felt sad and angry. Sad because he lost his father, angry because he didn't say goodbye. But he didn't. Not in that moment, like how it's usually planned.
In fact, Jack felt anything but love for David- even in the ounces. The chickering echo: "He deserved to die," rang through his head like bullets. Jack couldn't muster up the words to speak them out loud to anyone or even himself; only inside his head where they were safe to say. They would be stapled with memories of David's angry words, his hard slaps and his riveting stares that steamed hatred -at least to Jack- from his eyes. Sitting back in his chair, Jack tossed the newspaper to Alice's side of the table. Coming to her chair with a coffee in her hand, she stopped, read what Jack had wanted her to read and she looked up at him with sorrowful eyes. "I'm so sorry, Jack." She pressed a kiss to his temple, rubbing her cheek against his head, before sitting back to the table.
He took a deep breath in. "Knowing my parents, the funeral's going to be held in New York...." Alice looked into Jack's eyes. "I think we should go." Alice sucked in her bottom lip. "Are you sure.... I mean... can you... handle that?" Her voice lighter on the last words. Jack cleared his throat. "Yes... He was my father... and I should at least pay my respects to him and then go."
Alice soothed over Jack's hand with hers. "Susan and Roger...." Jack stiffened. "We have to tell them." Jack nodded. Alice looked at Jack- ushering Jack towards the phone. "Why don't you call Ro-"
"Susan will pick up.... she'll tell Roger." Alice sat back in her chair, watching Jack take rigid steps towards the phone. Dialing each number of Susan's San Francisco number, hoping she'll pick up. He didn't dread for Sean to pick up... only he needed Susan, his baby girl to wave her voice into him for comfort. "Hello?" Susan's voice. A sigh of relief fell over Jack for a quick moment. "Hello, Susan? It's Dad..."
"Dad? Hi. What's going on?"
"Well..... your grandfather, David... he passed away and... I needed to tell you in case you wanted to come to the funeral. It'll be in New York."
"Sure. Thanks for telling me... what about Roger does he know?"
Jack swallowed harshly. A piercing snap ran through his chest like a dagger. "No... I was wondering if you could call him- Seattle numbers are hard to reach sometimes...."
"Sure... of course. I'll tell him right now."
"Thank you." It came out more broken than how Jack thought it would sound. A splash of shame soured his cheeks.
Hanging up, Jack hoped Roger would come. He might. He might not. Biting his tounge, Jack's breath became hollow and heavy like he was inhailing sand and water. Susan was his good girl though. After living in Pasadena for all of her twenties, she and Sean moved up to San Francisco. Jack knew it to be a cozy, yet entergetic place to nest a nurturing home for a family. The bright city scene with a mellowing linger of suburbia, all bottled into Susan and Sean's new townhome. Jack and Alice had visited the place- big spacy living room, four bedrooms, finished attic, big fluttery kitchen, finished basement and then another basement underneath that looked like any other basement, big backyard, back porch, garage... everything Susan and Sean wanted. "Perfect for a family!" Susan cheered, sharing a cup of tea in the kitchen with Alice. Jack and Sean sat in the couple's bedroom, talking about how he was going to fix up the finished basement. Jack listened. Letting the words enter into his mind, a sudden flash of their family hit him. He thought of himself, Alice, Susan and Roger, when they were younger. All together, living under the same roof. Jack missed those family game nights, the funny dinner chatters where all they talked about sometimes was how wacky their day could get. The bedtime stories he used to read to the children before their bedtimes.... all of it.
And Jack wanted that back again in someway.
At thirty two, Jack wondered when Susan and Sean would make that annoucement. A grandchild would enter the Chambers family- swooning Jack off the distraction of losing one child and gaining another in some way. But... he could never replace Roger. He didn't want to. He loved him- always has. It was just that things didn't turn out the way he'd hoped for the two of them. Although, prideful- holding himself unaccountable for the everything that happened, deep down... he knew it was a lie. A lie he told to himself.
Going back to the table, Jack poured himself a cup of coffee with a hint of vodka in it and then went upstairs to the bedroom for some alone time. Alice only watched as the last of her husband's foot disappeared up the staircase.
*********************************************
The plane ride seemed dreary. All Jack could think about was the last glance he gave to the house; dark and shabby like it drenched. Everything Jack seemed to see held this drab gloomyness to it. He looked over to Alice who sat next to him, head leaning against his arm as she slept peacefully. Jack found it reassuring in some way. Like Alice wasn't facing the same internal demons he was, and she was peaceful and worry free from the simmering piteous mind boggle he was swirling inside of. Jack looked outside the window, watching the sunny skies of home turn to drab gray tints with skyscrapers poking into them like needles.
Memories flooded his brain- some good, some bad, some really bad. Jack could remember the fuggy smell of the city. The alleys that were dark- dangerous. One thing Jack could appreciate was his father- Brooklyn's best detective- warning him to never travel down an alley way. "This ain't London, Jack. Don't you go walking down no alley way- they'll shank you, boy." He said, one evening during dinner. Jack recalled how his friend, Thomas, was explaining the different shortcuts in the city and how they weren't marked because then they wouldn't be secrets anymore. "Ya know how many bodies I would find in an alley, boy? I catch you down there, I'll lick ya!" Tough to swallow, but resonable as Jack knew how risky alleys were.
The plane landed, jolting Alice awake and burning a fear ridden feeling through Jack's gut. He thought of the funeral and everyone that would be there. He thought of Susan, clinging her arm into Sean's, looking at the open casket of David. Then Roger, staring through the walls, only glancing at the casket while Jack would be glancing between him and his dead father. Alice would be silent, Lucy would crying and the whole place would stiff and chafed. Not that funerals were supposed to be joyfull. But then tension that sizzled through David's lifeline would no doubt mark his return to grave, one way or another.
Grabbing their suitcases, Jack and Alice made it out of the airport and to their cab. Their hotel was comfortable. Big cozy warm bed, nice heating- sheltering them from the icy Brooklyn rain and the picture window that stared out to the big wide city that surrounded them. Jack still loved the city. He still remembered the way his first Brooklyn apartment still lived in him somehow. The Caldar townhouses- cozy living room, little bedroom, the kitchen and nook that hung over to the side from the living room, tucked away in a small corner where it carried a small awning over the nook. His first apartment; the brick building still stood tall- updated and painted a white replacing the cream and yellow tinted walls.
Alice took in a deep breath. "I could stay here for the rest of the trip." She plopped on the bed, kicking her flats off. Alice sighed, staring up at the celling, counting the little spot decor overhead. She didn't want to, but she knew she had to say something to Jack. "Honey.... what about Lucy?"
"What about her?"
"We have to go see how she's doing and if she needs help with the funeral." Jack pursed his lips. "Yeah... yeah, you're right...." Alice sat up and rubbed Jack's back. "I'll be right there with you." Leaning her head against his back, a wave of comfort came over him. Jack always held in this pent up tight knitted feeling of guarding; needing to handle everything himself, while still keeping a tight grip over himself to not fall into the traps of his mother's woes, and his father's wrath. A young Jack could remember the biggest annoucment he made: moving out from his parents home, as his friends pulled his furniture from his room. Jack could remember the scowl across David's face- chanting how 'ungrateful' he was, while listening to his mother's sobs. Jack didn't feel too bad though. Still wheeling the relief he needed to feel from escaping the walls of his gray home. Jack could especially remember David and his yelling. The anger he felt from Jack finally breaking free from his uncontrolled circumstances- the deep hatred that festered inside of him from Jack standing up to him, like he did all his life even as a small child. The last to final time Jack would look David in the eyes and reject him from every part of himself and his life.
Jack ignored David's fury. He would glance at him, while David would stare angrily into his eyes. Jack focused himself on the movers and the new apartment he was aching to move into; how crisp the smell of a new home would smell, how safe the corners of his bedroom would feel, the closet would store clothes. Only clothes and no corners for teddy bears or brand new records that needed to be salvaged. Leaving the home, as he stepped off the front porch and walked through the little pathway from the porch to the driveway, Jack had felt like he set fire to the house. Striking a match, pouring gasoline over everything, and then throwing the lit match and watching the spark burn into blazing flames.
Around the corner, the porcelain home of the Jenn's- corner neighbors of the Chambers- was set fire to. Jack knew the middle child of the Jenn's. Grover Jenn- the forgotten, yet tortured child of the family. He was always quiet and reserved, but Jack didn't expect the lad to be as hawkish as he was that one summer. Complaining over never having a say in his life- his siblings were always given le-way, where he was always condemed as a 'troublemaker' despite never having any known acts of being a nusiance. Rumors spread that the last straw was when Mr. Jenn, was going to boot Grover down to military school. Grover argued it was because he wasn't wanted, but it was quickly dismissed. Something snapped- Grover knew how much his father loved the home he payed for with his bare hands of hard work and patience. Counting down the days to when he was to ship off the school, around the same time, Mr. Jenn was finishing up the last check that he would send into the bank.
From all the pent up years of anger and desperation for a better chance; Mr. Jenn had sold Grover's toys and teddy bears after age twelve, because ' a boy shouldn't have baby toys if he was to become a man.' Grover knew it was just his father's personal preference, but was still forced to stifle down the pain he felt from his favorite childhood bunny being compacted or creamated somewhere in a trash yard. Then when Grover rebelled over the typical slicked back haircuts the boys were supposed to wear all the time. Growing his hair out down to his shoulder, Mr. Jenn shaved it into a buzzcut to teach him a lesson of 'obedience.'
But it was that same year, when Grover had been secretly planning on moving down to Nebraska for factory job that would earn him twice the salary than a factory that Brooklyn could ever supply. Mr. Jenn was bothered from this- worried that Grover would never be able to handle himself alone without supervision from his 'superiors.' Moreso... his parents.... his father. Jack never understood why Mr. Jenn thought military school would help Grover, until he realized that it was only a city away and the parents could check up on Grover until he was officially eighteen, something Mr. Jenn dreaded. Everytime Grover mentioned his eighteenth coming up, Mr. Jenn would just brush it off and change the subject.
So, Grover finally did it. Grabbing a jug of gasoline, and dousing the family home- inside and out- before lighting a match and setting the whole house ablaze. The family escaped with first degree burns- as Grover hoped. But their home was gone. Everything that Mr. Jenn had worked so hard for, had burned down into a little ashes. Everyone expected Mr. Jenn to be furious and hellbent on finding Grover to lock him up and throw away the key. But he wasn't. Instead he just sobbed into his hands, confused to where Grover was, but understood why his home had bee burned down. Jack understood- he understood the flame that was slowly ticking and burning inside of Grover- like himself- had finally exploded. Jack set fire to his home, the day he left. Grover actually set fire to his home, and ran away- changing his name and everything about what his past was.
"I always hated my name anyway." He said to Jack one day in the school corridors. Jack felt this shiver up his spine. A sugary type spike of excitement- admiring Grover to some extent that he had the guts to do what his bagged up anger had made him do.
And despite the smoke filled air that morning, Jack would always think of it like a breath of fresh air. That him and Grover were finally free and their lives would be forever changed by their own liberation of igniting the flames and burning it down to the ashes of their pain.
*************************************************
"Jack!" Lucy greeted, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. Jack felt uncomfortable, eyes glancing towards Alice, who stood awkwardly trying to make sense of exactly what Lucy's game was. Jack pressed a tight and stern smile together, before gently pulling out of his mother's arms. "Jack...." Lucy looked into his eyes. She stiffened herself- seeing everything she saw in them, the day he left. Jack's eyes were still bold; green and sharp like they were even as a young man. The strenth never left them.... and Lucy couldn't ignore it.
"I'm sorry I couldn't be there when.... you know.... Dad died." Jack bit his lip a bit, not knowing if he said the right thing. "It's okay, baby... he was in bad shape anyway." Lucy turned to Alice and pursed her lips before smiling tightly. "Would you like some tea, dear?" Alice smiled, glancing towards Jack, who gave a slight nod. "That would be nice, thank you." Lucy excused herself to the kitchen, waiting for Jack to follow her. Alice made herself comfy on the couch, fiddling with the edges of her blouse.
"David.... he really wanted you to be there." Lucy poured the water into the tea pot, placing a tea bag inside. Jack swallowed. "I know..... he probably did... maybe."
Lucy turned to Jack. "Of course he did.... you're his only son... he needed you, Jack. Oh... he was heartbroken while we waited and waited, hoping for at least a phone call to tell us that maybe you were-"
"It was so sudden," Jack interrupted. "Two days ago, I recieved your letter about Dad... and I was still taking time to reel from that too."
"I know Jack, but...." Lucy sighed, setting the spoon down and turning to him. "He was holding out for you, until... he just couldn't anymore."
"What do you mean?"
"Well.... David... wanted to stay alive to see you.... but you didn't come.... and I guess he just died from that."
"Died from that? Me not being there? What about his cancer- the actutal reason he died?"
"Oh, Jack don't start." Jack sighed. "Fine. I won't." Going back into the living room, Jack sat next to Alice and squeezed her knee. Alice knew. He didn't need to say a word.... she knew.
"Tea's here!" Lucy set the tray down on the mantel. "So," sitting back on the couch, "what are the next steps?"
Jack cleared his throat. "Well.... we were going to help with the funeral.... in fact... I called the children and told them about what happened, and they're coming down later for the funeral."
"Oh, how nice of you to do that, Jack. It's nice to be around family, especially during times like these." Jack raised an eyebrow, flattening his smile. Lucy scanned Alice up and down, trying not to make eye contact with her. But she couldn't ignore how navy blue blouse hugged her curves or how her eyes held this ginger in them. It was always this way from the moment she met Alice.
Beyond the traces of her seemingly perfect body, there was her smile, her laugh, they sweet way Jack looked at her; admiring her with everything she did. Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, while they stood together and Jack was explaining how much he loved this woman. Or like Jack's hand was still over Alice's knee as a this gentle reminder of how much he needed her and vise versa. Put together without all the fluff of fantasy, Alice held this light everywhere she went. And Lucy wanted it to be hers.
****************************************************
It was in the spring, shortly after Jack's engagement to Alice when Lucy and David had first met her. David gawked at her- like he did with every other woman- but neverminded her. Lucy just stared- not too noticeable- she couldn't stop herself from looking at the bombshell blonde. Full of life and lust- zest for the invitation of marriage towards her so, that truly loved from the start. Alice was valiant; grabbing Lucy's hand and shaking it while wearing this big smile underlined by her cherry red lips. That's when Lucy noticed her eyes. Rich and colorful- life lived through them- inside of them, holding this light inside of herself like she was something more than what Lucy had envisioned her to be.
A hard smack of reality spat back at Lucy a second time once she realized that Jack didn't fufill the unknown understanding that his mother wanted him to. A dainty woman with a shy, but humble etiquette about her. Lucy would have no hassle showing her the ropes of what being a wife- a woman would be about. She would be able to take the ropes and tug on them without a fight, and the woman would be grateful. She would let Lucy steer her into whichever corner she would need to be in, to be set and ready made for Jack.... for his family- all of the Chambers.
Lucy wanted her to be like a daughter to her. She wanted her love her like a mother and be a willing participant Lucy being exactly that, only she would still be different. Lucy was Jack's mother and the woman would be his wife. Lucy, her long complex history with her child would leave no doubts or competition for which role would be the best for Jack. And the wife would understand.... she was the second woman in his life. But strictly because he found her secondly.
Alice, was Jack's world. Fearless, polite, yet solid in her stances and dense in her womanhood. She needed no leader, she was her own guide. She was perfect for Jack. Lucy's history with Jack was already complicated- enough to where he didn't choose for Alice to meet his parents; showing them off like they were to be these trophies. Just by chance, they at the same department store and Alice stood by Jack like Barbie next a to a Ken. "Dear, try not to cross your ankles- it's highly inappropriate." Lucy commented during a lunch date. Staring at Alice with a sly exspression, Alice stared back, politely nodded, before crossing her leg over the other under the table. Lucy didn't notice until Jack had etched out from the table and the small gap in between revealed Alice's position.
Lucy looked at Alice's legs. Then to Alice, who returned the same sly smirk, only with more politeness- the same dainty manner that she became accustomed to.
It would go on like that with the rare occassions they would meet. Lucy would tell Alice something, and Alice- not following outdated customs- would politely ignore it or do something against it. But it was one particular Sunday. Easter had come and Passover had ended. A picnic was held in Palm Springs and Jack- hesitently- agreed to bring himself and a pregnant Alice there.
The buffet was crowded with tons of people, but Alice didn't let it bother her until Lucy rang up next to her, telling her what foods she should intake with a pregnant belly. "Healthy foods, serve for a healthy baby- but don't eat too much, or else it'll be harder to lose the baby fat. And besides, there's a baby bump, and then there's just excess fat."
Alice chalked the comment up to one in her own head over the reason of Jack being a premature baby. Spotting a delicious chocolate cake, Alice grabbed a slice and plopped it on her plate. "Oh no, dear," Lucy snatched the cake from off her plate and set it back down. "Your already too big for that."
"Excuse me?"
Lucy smiled, rather the same sly one she had at the lunch. "I'm only looking out for you."
Alice smiled tensely. The times she used that smile was usually when Jack overreacted or Roger accidentally embarrassed the family in public with his own shenaigans and Alice had to save face. She stared right into Lucy's eyes- glossing past the innocent motherly act, as if she wasn't out for something else. Tilting her head up, she said: "Mind your own business, and you will be, okay?" Then she grabbed another slice of cake, shot Lucy one last look, before trolling over to Jack and explaining what happened at the counter.
Jack looked back to a red faced Lucy, who was storming over to the table. "Jack! Are you going to let your her talk to me like that? You really should get her home and let her have it!"
Jack squinted his eyes at Lucy. Standing up from the table and walking over to her. "Don't you ever call my wife 'a her' again. Her name is Alice. And further more, if you even think that I would 'let her have it', then maybe Dad 'let you have it' too many times to your head if you believe that's what a real man does." Grabbing Alice's hand, Jack stormed out of the picnic with Alice.
They went back to their hotel where room service served them limitless food- including a deluxe chocolate cake. "Would you some ice cream to go with that, honey?"
"Sure.... thanks Jack." Jack kissed Alice's forehead before scooping two scoops of vanilla ice cream into the bowl.
But Lucy would never forget those encounters and how Alice was so much different that what she expected her to be. The same boldness that Jack held in his eyes, was in Alice's. Jack was with his own type- quick to defend his wife from anyone, it became clear that she was his woman... no one else. Lucy sometimes resented that Alice held the family name in presence now. The hopeful glee of Lucy's type of woman, had wittled away like a steam in the tension of cold water. Now replaced with jaded memories of Alice, only signaled to Lucy once again, who Jack was. A strong man.... who wanted a strong woman. And Alice was nothing short of that.
Lucy would cringe at how Alice would stride causally in heels in a hip hugging pencil dress while holding her bags of groceries because she could. And she did. If the rules weren't candid, then she didn't follow them. Lucy would watch Alice get into her own car and drive off. She would watch Lucy wait until she was ready to marry- early thirties when she decided that she wanted to settle down with someone of her liking. She would see how Alice didn't need to be perfect- she just wanted to be happy. Jack was happy, her grandchildren were happy and their family worked. Lucy wasn't apart of it and neither was David.
And it unsettled her. And it would always haunt her in someway, that she only she knew why.
***********************************************
"Jack...." Lucy asked quietly, careful not to shift Alice's ear from the upstairs bathroom. "Did she stop you from going?"
"What?" Lucy cleared her throat. "I know you have responsibilities, but... Alice can't take up all your time, can she?"
Jack raised an eyebrow and let it turn into a furrow. "I didn't come, because I didn't want to see Dad. And you know why. I came to help you with the funeral because I know Dad would want to be buried here with all his police buddies and detective pals seeing him one last time- he was honored as a hero here, so... I know that's what he would want."
Lucy stayed quiet for a moment. "Why didn't you visit sooner- even if it was just me?" Jack took a deep breath. "Because I needed to take care of myself and do what was best for me. I just.... didn't want to come back. I left once.... and I'm happy."
The subject was dropped. Lucy continued cleaning the dishes, and Jack continued keeping his mother at arm's length.
*************************************************
Three days in New York and by day number four, the funeral had arrived. Lucy wanted a fast and quick one; choices about the house, David's stuff and other decisions needed to made at the proper time as well. Not to mention visits with the laywer about David's pension also fell over Lucy's mind.
Jack and Alice entered the funeral home- black dress, black suit and tie- as they made their way around the crowds of family, friends, and co-workers of David who respected him.
"Dad!" Jack turned and found Susan walking towards him with her arms stretched out. Wrapping her in a hug, Jack held her like he hadn't in a long time. "Baby...." he whispered. Pulling back to see her face, Jack felt tears looming. "It's so good to see you. Where's Sean?"
"Parking the car. It's crazy how we even made it down here." Susan chuckled a bit to lighten the mood. Then she became more serious. "Have you seen Roger? I told him about Grandpa-"
"No.. no. I don't think he's here yet." Jack took a step back to examine Susan: Knee length black dress, sheer black pantyhose, black heels and a gray trench coat. Silver jewlery- earrings, a watch and brotch, styling her outfit in just the way Jack would think of what Susan would wear.
Then he saw Roger. Taken aback by how sharply, yet tastefully dressed he was: black trench coat opened to reveal his black suit and tie, black loafers and right when he went to scratch the back of his head, it revealed the shiny new watch- thick black belt with a huge clock in the center of it. Jack stiffened and suddenly his gut dropped. As Roger was making his way over, a buzz sounded. His pager buzzing in his pocket. Excusing himself, he stood aside. He walked toward the phone booth, desperate with whatever he received on his pager. Too busy to notice his father trailing him.
Roger dialed each button carefully. "Hey Paul. Yeah, it's Roger. Listen- I can't make the meeting Monday.... yeah I know it's inconvient, but my Grandfather died and I have to stay for a few days in New York..... no I'm not going to use this as a way to advertise my book- let it sell out in Seattle first.....okay... okay, thanks for understanding....alright, bye."
Jack met face to face with Roger, jolting him a bit in surprise. "You scared me," he smiled. "Nice to see you though, Dad." Jack felt frozen; kicking himself awake to respond. "Nice to see you too, Roger." He smiled. Bringing Roger into a hug, it didn't vapor the distance inside of it. Like a stranger's arms were wrapped around Roger. But Jack still felt the same familiar air of love he felt when he always hugged a child Roger.
"What was that phone call about?"
"Oh, it's nothing.... my publicist wants to.... you know... do business at inapproprate times, that's all."
He had a publicist, Jack thought. Roger was famous, Jack thought. The realization soured him- sending this wobbly feeling over his body. Jack felt like he had been in a coma for years; Roger changed so much since the last he ever saw in person. Mature, hair styled differently- a short shaggy cut with a bang above his eyebrows and a bit of his forehead, swept the side- exspensive looking clothes.... a proper self made life he built for himself, that Jack was shunned out of. His little boy had grown several years in front of him and he was too stupid to even see it. He could see how handsome he was. How much greener his eyes became and how he stood a two feet taller than his father. Like a punch in the stomach- Jack couldn't allow the bellowing pride he had for his son, to glitter brighter than the clanking angst he felt inside.
A feeling that could bring Jack to his knees begging for redemption. But instead standing as tall as he could in his own misery of what he didn't have.
Before Jack could speak, the sound of heels approached. "Roger!" Alice ran to him and hugged him so hard, he nearly fell back. Smothering his face in kisses, she kept her arms wrapped around his neck as she looked into his eyes. "Where have you been?" She whispered audiablly.
"Seattle. I write books now." He smiled. "Oh," Alice pressed her head more into him.
"I miss you so much.... why can't you come home, sweetie?"
"Seattle's been so good to me- all the wonderful city people have just been so kind... plus.... the city sells books faster." He chuckled.
"I know... it's just...." Alice turned to Jack before pulling away and looking down.
"It's just what?" Alice shook her head. "Well..... the Chambers belong in California... and the long distance sometimes gets the best of us, right Jack?"
Jack nodded, standing aside watching mother and son reunite.
"Ladies and gentlemen, can we all take our seats? The service will now begin."
****************************************************
Jack felt hollow. His father- asleep in the cold murky mahoghany casket, seemed to just bleed him dry of any outstanding emotion. He was supposed to feel sad, but he wasn't. Lucy seemed to be only one shedding tears- pressing tissues up to her eyes consistantly during the ceremony. Susan was watching David's coffin- stiff and still in her seat, sitting in between her husband and brother. She caught Jack's eye- gave a slight smile, before joining her focus back to the priest. Roger sometimes shuffled around his seat, trying hard not to make eye contact with anyone- especially Jack- whose eyes seemed to bore into him. Jack felt more snags tugging at him for Roger, than he did for David.
The service- tense and prolonged more than it needed to be it seemed for Jack. Listening to the eulogy filled with lies and tales about the man David was, cut through Jack- a spike of slight anger banging through him. So, he let his mind drift. And it thought about all the fear and pain he suffered from David- justifying the obvious, even though David wasn't here anymore- the memories would still and always live inside of Jack. He knew he didn't have to go down the usual path of self pity and fury- David was who he was, and his death would never change that. But Jack needed to feel obliged; reasons for making him turn out the way he did today. And it was the same bottled down itchy gnawling feeling that led him to where he was with his family- with Roger. Not fitting into any part of his own son's life, and being made to see how much clearer Roger looked- how bright his eyes were. The tension he felt when speaking with his father was no longer there and this rested confidence sank into him more than it did for Jack when he was that age.
Jack wanted to chalk it up to just plain luck- not having to fight the way he did. But he knew Roger. Roger went his own way and did his own things in life. He forged his own path, making a career of something he didn't even realized he loved so much. Jack would never tell him that he bought one of Roger's first novels. He would never let him see it across his face of how much he wanted for Roger to achieve and how proud he was of him to have gotten where he was today. Jack just missed him. He missed his son.... he missed who he used to be and would never know the person he became. His hair was styled so differently and it was symbolic in some way to Jack. How much he distanced himself from being his father's son, to just Roger. And that's what people knew him as. That's what he wanted to be known as.
Glancing back to Roger again, the young man peered once to Jack before quickly looking back to the front. Jack turned around and kept his head straight, but his eyes dazed with his full mind for the rest of the service.
*******************************************************
Everyone cleared the home, brisking past David's black and white picture. A younger version of himself that favored Jack in some way from the right angles. Same eyes, same smile, same dimples. Jack took a longer look at it, before moving along with the crowd out to their cars and down the community center for the wake.
"That was a tasteful service," Alice said, walking to her side of the car. Jack hummed a response. Before getting into the car, he noticed from the small gaps in between the crowd of Susan and Roger talking. Barely able to make out what they were saying, he went to the trunk- closer enough to hear what they were saying, but appearences would look like he was getting something.
"I am coming to the wake- but I said that I was also saving my energy for dinner tonight."
"I know, Roger..... look- I know you and Dad had.... whatever differences you had, but at least show up a little."
"Of course! Susan... I do appericate you letting me know... and I am going to be there... I just have to make an important phone call and then I'll come join the family, okay?"
Susan smiled a little. "Alright. I love you, Roger.... I always have."
"I love you more." He smiled the same cheeky one he did as a child. Susan giggled before pecking his cheek and getting into the car with Sean. Roger walked to his, making eye contact with Jack. He gave a polite smile before getting into his car and driving off.
**************************************************
The wake ended at around five that evening. The snow was twinkling a bit and cars were being piled into and driven away. Lucy asked Jack and Alice to help clean. Jack carefully accepted and stationed himself with helping his mother with the sweeping while Alice cleared away the tables.
"I really am thankful for this, honey. Thanks for sticking around." Jack smiled. "No problem."
The room was quiet for a moment. Sounds of the broom sweeping up the dirt and crusty snow from shoes were all to be heard, along with some clattering dishes from the kitchen that Alice was tending to.
Lucy looked at Jack- studying him for a moment. "How are you and the kids?" Jack had raised his eyebrows for a moment before answering. "We're fine. Me and Alice are just enjoying retirement."
"I know how lonley it can get without the children around. I still think about when you were little and you would always want one more story, or one more cookie. It just made me so happy to see you be happy...."
Jack kept quiet. Lucy cleared her throat. "I'm gonna miss your father.... he was such good company...." Jack geared himself up for what else was about to be said. "You're good company, sweetie..... it would be nice to be able to have room to be with you.... and Alice."
Jack looked to the side for a moment and then back to Lucy. "It wouldn't be much of an invitation if it was made up from persuasion rather than a gesture.... I don't think so." Lucy sighed. "Jack, it would be nice to spend time with you.... I want to be your mom again-"
"Mom... me and Alice came here to help you with Dad's funeral. Now, with all that said and done, you can't possibly pretend that those years didn't happen, that Dad wasn't abusive to me or to you, or that everything suddenly went away like magic because he's not here. Me and my family are going home the day after tomorrow- we won't even be here. I would have did what my son obligations were and then.... I would have the peace of knowing that I did help, and that I was..... that I was a good son- even if Dad didn't realize it."
Lucy dropped the broom. Tears flooded her face as she stared into Jack's eyes sobbing. "Oh, Jack.... I know I haven't been what you wanted me to be, but I can still make it up to you with the years I have left..... please don't leave me."
"What about how you left me? Abandoning me when I needed you to defend me from Dad? Those cookies and bedtime stories and hugs or whatever didn't protect me. They didn't help me.... you sat back and let him touch me the way he did- slap me, beat me, punch me.... I look at my children and I could never do that to them- no one would ever do that to them, even now as adults."
"But you still can't leave me here to wallow- you did it the first time. When I was struggling and you just wanted to move out of the house because you couldn't let go of the little snags you ran into with David!"
"Those weren't little snags- they were serious problems!"
"I needed you!"
"I had to leave!"
"I'M YOUR MOTHER!"
"YOU'RE A GROWN WOMAN! ACT LIKE IT!"
Lucy stared back in stunned silence like she had just been slapped hard in the face. Jack simmered down enough to bore back into his mother's eyes, anger still bubbling inside of them.
"I was a child. A little boy. You were still a grown woman. If you didn't want Dad, then you should've picked up your things and left- and took me with you. I left because that's what I wanted to do. I made the choice to carry myself the way no one else would do it for me.... I took responsiblity for my life. I didn't abandon you..... I just moved on. And if you even half the guts you think you do.... you would've done the same."
Dropping the broom, Jack grabbed Alice and walked out of the building, leaving Lucy behind in the dim lights from the night snow.
*************************************************
"Jack... what happened? What did your mother say to you?" The car ride to the resturant was silent. The sound windshield wipers waving against the window-wiping away the twinkling snow that pecked at the windows like rain- were the only sounds to be heard.
"She said that 'she loved me'...... I said 'it wasn't enough'." Alice kept quiet and just stared out the window. Shortcutting down the country side of the city, they made it to the resturant. Jack's headlights spotlighted Roger's car that was parked neatly towards the back of the place. Jack parked a few spaces over. Maybe for small talk or for just the feeling of needing to feel close to his presence in some way. Alice noticed his car. Stroking the back of her hand and biting the side of her lip, she stopped herself before she nearly wiped off his lipstick. Narrowing her eyes at Jack a little, she stepped out of the car and waited for Jack's door to close before she started walking towards the front door.
Susan, Roger and Sean were sat at the table- a big round one towards the right of the resturant, sat in the back. Susan waved her hand to usher her parents towards the table.
"Roger you didn't tell me you were in New York before." Sean said. Roger chuckled. "Yeah, it was when my first novel came out and I had to do a press tour to promote it," Roger scooted his chair over to make room for his parents, "my publicist, Paul, thought it would be a good idea because a lot of young fiction writers were up and coming around the same time. He wanted me to stand out."
Roger took a sip of his ruma cola. Jack eyed it. "Roger, careful with the drinks,"
Sean chuckled. "Well, Roger's a big boy- I'm sure he can keep count." The two laughed. Jack sat back in his chair, cheeks becoming slightly red. The table ordered their food and chatted while they waited. Jack could only listen to some of the single man adventures Roger had back in Seattle; how shunned he felt from even knowing half of what went on with his son. From the conversation, Jack knew that Roger had the hots for a woman named, Kelly, he had written a book in a little cabin somewhere in Iceland, he had went skydiving, explored one of New York's lavish dance clubs, and had moved into a bigger apartment after he graduated university, upon getting a pet iguana named, Stone.
Jack smiled rigidly. A festering whirlwind of bitterness swirled inside of Jack. Omitted from his Roger's life, gave him this sick feeling of how much he wanted to- he should've been there, maybe to talk him out of some of those bad choices. But they weren't bad choices... they were just Roger's choices and Jack just didn't feel comfortable with them. Glancing between Susan and Sean, he hoped they show him some pity. And Susan did a bit. Nudging Roger towards inviting Jack into the conversation- he would and then make a way for Sean to need to interfere because of his amazement with something else Roger did, shutting Jack out again. And it was comfirmed- how much Jack didn't fit in.
Alice couldn't keep the smile off her face. Proud, amazed, joyful, like every mother would be to see her child do so well. Like she was meeting a superstar, Alice was comepletly absored in everything Roger had done. It was: "Roger, when did you do this?" or "I never knew that!" A smile was all that was plastered over her face the entire dinner. Roger could see Alice's motherly smile to Jack's pitited broken smile.
Even after dinner, the parents smiles never faltered. Sean scanned everyone and turned to Susan. "I'm going to go get the car." A subtle wink to his wife and she understood. Once Sean was out of sight, all eyes seemed to turn to Roger. "You're doing really good, Dad.... I know this is not easy at all with Grandpa David and... the issues surrounding it all... but you're doing so good and that's very commendable."
"Thank you, Roger.... I really appreciate that." Jack leaned in for a hug, taking Roger aback, but wrapped his arms around him anyway. Jack kissed his cheek, leaving Roger to feel somewhat uneasy. Old habits never change, he thought. Stepping back, Roger ushered Susan to hug Jack. As Jack was in a hug from Susan, he stared out at Roger, who's eyes were focused on the floor. Pursing his lips, he pulled away and gave Susan a sweet look before joining Alice like he need to cling to her for energy. And he did.
The four departed to their cars. Roger glanced over to Jack's car- parked a few spaces from his. Looking down and unlocking his car door, Roger shuffled into his car and waited until Jack and Alice left the parking lot before he did.
*******************************************************
In their hotel, Alice had already gotten ready for bed. Hair tied up in rollers and makeup wiped off her face, Alice was in bed snoozing away the day she had- David's funeral sparked several emotions in Jack that she could see, even if he bottled them up. But what she noticed the most was his responses to Roger and how much they've grown apart. It saddened her, but satisfied her to some extenet. She adored the relationship they used to have from when Roger was a child. But Alice couldn't forget everything that caused the drift in the first place- Jack being responsible for nearly everything of the reasons.
The lights were off and only the lamp of Jack's bedside was glowing. Sipping the last drops of gin from his glass, Jack's mind wandered over to Roger.
Jack was particularly agitated by the thought of Roger. Sure, he was at the funeral and even the pity dinner thrown for Jack in his honor, but it still wasn’t enough to shake what had been lingering outside and inside for so long. Jack knew the reasons behind his calculated approach, but to Roger- it was a nuisance. It stood in the way of every goal and mountain he chose to climb. Roger- much like the rest of the family- assumed it was because of Jack’s deep rooted addiction to seeing him as this helpless little infant, but it only appeared that way. Jack was very much well aware of Roger’s adult status. He was aware of all of Roger’s milestones. The first car, the first date, the first apartment.... Jack remembered them all too well. Like mementos or framed polaroids, they lived in the depths of Jack's brain like trees deeply rooted to the ground. And sometimes... it hurt to think of them.
But the intentions and the comprehension behind them, were entangled like mangled hair or branches upon bark and leaves. Carefully constructed, yet sloppily thrown in this basket of mushy emotions- it all lived in Jack. And only he would know why.
************************************************
It had happened one particular winter; November when the California air had mellowed from the steaming mist of summer. Alice- suspecting from her experience of her first pregnancy- knew she was pregnant with another. Jack burst in excitement upon hearing this news. Surprising as it would be, Jack seemingly was prepared. He always wanted another child. The couple had planned on it, but the exciting static shock of Alice's pregnancy still sparked through Jack.
Having already rejoiced in his firstborn, Jack grew anxious to be a father again. Jack had secretly hoped for a son- someone to relate to on a gender level. A round head little boy, sweet little eyes, deep dimples, a stubborn ambition, and a gentle sensitivity. Jack would love this little boy- nurture his every little daydream or wish.
He would dream of this child the more Alice’s belly grew more and more. He would think about a little boy this time; brown hair and darker green eyes than the ones his wife and daughter possessed. A playful laughter, and a smile full of innocent childlike wonder, while he ran through the backyard in the field of dandelions and grass blades.
It was in a movie that Jack was watching. A young boy- sweet dimples, a chunky mop of red hair and freckles scattered all over his cheeks with a peachy blush to them. Roger was the boy’s name. And it soon became one Jack’s favorites. Raymond. Richard. All overdone and used way too much. But Roger just glided off the tongue like butter. Like a child begging for a toy, Jack eagerly persuaded Alice to like the name. Not much effort needed as Alice saw this name as the perfect catch for a golden little boy.
“Maybe he’ll have red hair...” Alice said one night. Jack smiled wide.
“Who knows... black hair, red hair... golden blonde? It all runs on my end too,” Jack looked up again. “I always envisioned the baby with brown hair and green eyes; Susan favors you so much... I just hope this baby favors me.”
Alice kissed the temple of Jack’s head. “I think so. They’ll be perfect.” And he would be. Jack held onto the thought.
Even when he gritted his fingers into his palms from Alice’s morning sickness or when he held his breaths from Alice’s sharp labor pains that rang in that evening and lasted until early in the morning- 2:28 A.M. A soft fuss croaked out, and then a pink flesh colored baby appeared from the white sheets over Alice's legs.
And it was that summer- July- where Roger had come into the world, donning the same dark chocolate hair, emerald green eyes and the dark cherry pink heart shaped lips, like his father. Just like Jack. Even as a baby, Roger held that same fiery flame of passion inside him. Hollering loudly for something, or cooing softly for another thing. Even though Roger couldn’t speak, Jack understood him. He could sense when Roger was upset. Those scary rainy nights when thunder would boom through the house, Jack was already up from the bed before a wail could be heard from his baby son.
When Jack would try his hardest to put a diaper over Roger’s squirming legs, he would giggle and stare into his father’s eyes with a deep twinkle in them, pestering one in Jack’s.
Roger could sense his father’s emotions. His anger, his sadness... his fear. To Jack, whenever a bad night would appear; nightmares or night sweats from bad dreams of David, Roger was right there with a cry to wake Jack up from those thoughts and rush into his bedroom. And when Jack would carry Roger in his arms, he felt this warm fuzzy feeling like a warm blanket was being wrapped around him. A light in the dark or a hole at the end of the tunnel. Jack found a kindred spirit in Roger. He was more than just a baby to Jack, he was a friend. A little version of himself that he could hug and sing to on dreary nights. Roger clung to Jack- his protector from everything scary in the world.
Jack tickled Roger's belly to see him gurgle and smile. He gave rasberries to his neck to hear his giggles. Jack let every soothing touch gently swish on Roger's skin- wanting him to savor the soft warm gentle touches of his father.
Looking into Roger’s soft little eyes, he could see himself. Scared, alone, fragile, yet put up this tough strut and held a passion of ambition. Independence was something that Roger grew into even as a six month year old. He learned to to crawl, then walk, then run. All on his own, he would hold himself up and take himself where he wanted to go. Roger learned to babble, and then to speak. He spoke from his heart and conversed whatever was on his mind. Dominance in such a tiny package Jack thought. Jack couldn’t help but notice how Roger's furrowed eyebrows favored his own or how his puppy dog pout was practically a ‘copy and ‘paste’ from Jack as well. And Jack nurtured it. He held this dome over Roger- letting him be himself, never having to fight to defend himself from broken pain.
Jack decided he would give Roger everything that was never given to him. Teddy bears, kisses, hugs, bedtime stories, lullabies. It was how they bonded from the first touch to the first words Jack spoke to Roger. Linked together like chains, Jack promised he would never let go.
But Roger wanted to. And he did.
Roger loved Jack’s homemade cookies, his piggy back rides, his bedtime stories and warm hugs. His and Jack's one on one time- true and father and son bonding. Even the scent of him made Roger feel safe. It still did. Roger always knew he was loved. He never questioned it. It was the price he realized he had to pay for such affection that grabbed him in a chokehold.
The more Roger grew, the more expensive the cost became. So Roger would refuse to pay. When Jack dove for his nine year old son’s hand, Roger would tug it away. Jack would grab it back with a firmer grasp. Roger would snatch it away- quickly before darting off into the school, leaving Jack behind in the distance.
Eleven year old Roger, refused his scarf and hat for shallow fall weather. It wasn't cold enough to need it. Even more so, teddy bear prints and patterns were stiched all over them- Jack knitted them himself. Roger sliently balked at them; babyish and unappealing to him, Roger shoved them under his bed, and peddled his bike to school. Jack had found them later that evening. Picking them up and keeping them with him, it was when Roger was in the middle of English when he stormed into the classroom and gently donned Roger in the garments. "You'll get sick, baby- I can't let you freeze." Pressing a kiss to his cheek, Roger felt his face blush and warm. Roger blamed Jack for not being able to keep his head up through the whole in school. He shoved the hat and scarf into the depths of his closet- told his parents they must've gotten lost in the wash.
It went on like this for a while. Roger's teenage years were sometimes filled with Jack's constant smothering of affection. Always needing to hold Roger's hand, give him that extra push on the swing set or cut up his steak for him. Jack always had to be there, somewhere along the lines, it had to start with Jack. And Roger felt like he was drowing. Gasping for air- choking on his own resentment. And the more he drowned, the more the resentment grew. It liked to swallow him up like a wave. So, Roger would try to come up for air.
Sometimes he lied and snuck out. He learned to drive earlier than his parents had known; Susan would sometimes take rides from a fifthteen year old Roger, without Jack and Alice even suspecting that Roger knew how. Jack held Roger back from letting Roger have his license until he was eighteen. Susan was treated the same, but she had an easier time to obtain this privilage. Jack, didn't even bother to teach Roger. "I wanna make sure he's ready."
But he was never ready. At least not to Jack. So, Roger asked a favor from one of Dean and Bunny's boys; took him down to an empty parking lot, where Roger practiced his driving. He would watch Jack, Alice and Susan, along with anyone else he took a ride with, carefully scanning how they followed the rules of the road. Roger- saved some of summer job money for driving classes and then took the test. It was on a special anniversary dinner, when Roger annouced to his new driver's license. A month later, Roger got his first car. Jack stood by watching all of this, with an empty smile.
The same smile he wore with gritted teeth on the inside. A pique biting inside him, through his gut and core. Angry at Roger- angry at his intentions. Why was he pushing this so hard? Why was he trying so hard to pull away from him? A part of him was proud of Roger, the other held this fear- the same fear he had seeing his infant Susan lay in the hospital with meningitis. He pleaded with God, not to lose her. And somehow, that same fear manifested itself into one of Roger. Not for death, but from the loss. He couldn't lose Roger.
Jack began to ride along with Roger when he took his car out. He had to sit in the passenger seat and direct Roger where to turn, when to put your blinker on, when to use a turn signal... Roger began to just leave notes on the fridge and leave for errands early in the morning or when Jack wasn't home. Jack didn't give up- he made Roger hang his car and house keys towards the door like everyone else. But they would never be there- as Roger suspected. "Sometimes, I take them in my room because it's late sometimes when I get home, and I'm so tired.... I don't even realize I did it." Roger ignored Jack's rule after that, and would stash his keys on the inside of his closet. "Roger... we hang the keys up here." Jack pointed to the key rack.
"I like to keep my keys with me at all times. So they don't get taken.... I figured since, I would be responsible if anything happened to them, so I keep them with me." Roger swung his keys around his finger and brushed past Jack a bit, on his way out the door. Roger never mentioned to anyone how one day he took his car to a locksmith and had an extra set of car keys made just in case.
The pique bit into Jack harder, biting off the flesh and then becoming source of itself on its own. Roger's gasps for air became an oxygen tank, Jack's bites became infected with a rabid dieasese. It made him mad, it made Roger add on more tanks. If Roger went out, Jack wanted to go too. If Roger went on a date, Jack would go too. If Roger got a job, Jack would scruntinze what type of job it was, and if it should suit Roger- despite Roger having the skills.
And to Roger, Jack would posess the same babyish position. Always 'helping' him out. Giving gentle nudges to his 'baby.' Until, Roger moved out. Then the waves calmed a bit, and he could swim along to its sweet breeze rhythm. But the pique- still alive- clung to Jack, not wanting to let go. And it followed Jack everywhere taunting him in his sleep. Flooding him with those sweet memories of Roger clinging to him, like a baby koala to its mother. They soon became his nightmares. Fear mixed inside the pique began to haunt those memories. Why couldn't he be there with Roger? Why didn't Roger want him around? It was an obssesion. Jack couldn't think of anything else, but Roger's leave to Seattle. A personal slap in the face- a deep rejection of his love. The love he never had as a child, but gracefully gave to Roger, only for it to be rubbed in his face.
But, it was just college? Then Roger would be home because of how much he missed his family. Him and Jack together. He cooled off by then. Then they could have milk and cookies while Roger told him all about his times at college. The innocent times... Jack would like to think of those times in the same way Roger's school days were back then. Just teacher troubles or a playground bully.
It was him who suggested that he and Alice visit Roger. Hoping for some sense of regret in Roger. He would wrap him into his arms and Roger would feel the fresh scent of his familiar hug. And then he would finish his semester, go home and they could be a family again. No more plane rides back and fourth, just one bedroom knock away and Jack would have Roger back. But semester was over. The fall had sprung in, and three years after Roger even entered the college, Jack and Alice were on the next plane down to Seattle.
But it was something about that visit. The way Jack babied Roger- embarrassing him in front of his friends, shunning him back down to little third grader he once was having to face his schoolmates after being kissed in front of them by Jack, tickled under his chin like a baby, cooed to a lulling whisper. It made Roger understand. It made him look at Jack- the fluffy feeling of love from his father's affection disappearing- and now the same pique had now bit into Roger's tanks. It became a life of its own from the oxygen. Swirling into a hole inside of Roger, he met Jack's eyes- forging the same empty smile Jack wore when Roger had climbed those mountains of independence. As his parents left his apartment, Roger felt confident this time. No more resentment, no more struggling to breathe. It was clear how much he understood.... Jack would never see him as the man he was now. He would never let go.
Staring at a family picture, Roger met Jack's eyes again. An irk pecked into his gut, before he took the picture off the shelf and stored it away behind the other pictures in his apartment. Seattle was always meant to be his home. Roger never thought about returning to California to live there, until today. But, he liked the feeling of December cold on his skin anyway. Roger took one last look at Jack's face through the picture, before walking away. But it was later that night, he saw 'The courtship of Eddie's father.'
Something stuck in Roger, that maybe second chances could exist again. Roger finished his latest piece with his company, then his first draft for his first novel. A year had gone by, and hinging on twenty six and half, Roger worked his nerve to give his father the phone call that he hoped would change everything.
A phone call later that month, exspressing how Roger felt to Jack ended with yelling and angst.
"Dad..... I'm not a little boy anymore!"
"Roger, all I wanna do is protect you! I'm still going to do that no matter what, because I'm still your father! College doesn't change that!" Roger breathed heavily. "Dad... you can't do those things anymore- you know what I mean."
"Roger... is something going on up there? I need to know! What is it even about Seattle that amazes you? It's not all that to me... you shouldn't have moved away from your family.... you need me, Roger. You always will, why are you denying that?"
"Dad-"
"Roger.... you're my son- my little boy. You can't make it on your own- now just be a good boy and come home!" Roger blinked. "A good boy?"
"Yeah... you are a boy."
"Dad- I'm a grown man-"
"You're in your early twenties, you're not that old, Roger."
"So, even when I'm in my thirties- you'll still see me as just 'a boy?'"
"Roger....come on. We both know that this move was just a spur of the moment thing-"
"You can believe that for whatever reason you need to- I'm not coming home. I am not a little boy, I'm not a baby, or a some stupid kid that can't take control of his own life..... maybe you'll never understand that, Dad, but it's not going to change."
"Roger- watch your tone! No, you are not fully capable of making mature choices because you don't know much yet. You'll always need someone to be there! You'll always need someone to help you! You can't do this on your own. Maybe you want to try, but, Roger..... you are still just a kid. You know you are... you know you need me."
The other line sat quiet for a while. "Roger?"
"You need me.... more than I could ever need you!"
Click!
The line went dead. All that was left was the buzzing of the line. The last conversation, unknown to Jack- Roger would change his number and never call the Chamber's residence again.
It was past Roger's thirtieth birthday. That last phone call was when Roger was twenty seven.
Since then, Roger had never moved the family picture to full view again. Between the bookshelf of where his own books lived, instead, it sat in the back of one of Roger's desk drawers- folded and tucked away, neatly and safely, but forgotten. Or, that's how Roger wanted to see it at least. Roger had spent those years, traveling, dating, going to therapy and releasing his first novel- a drama fiction that involves a tangled romance and a broken dream of family life. Jack's heard of Roger's novel. He had read a few chapters, trying hard not to think of Roger. He couldn't finish it. He stored it away safely in his closet, and tried not to let the thought of the book, bustle him. Jack imagined it with eyes, watching his every move in the bedroom. But he just ignored it.
It broke Jack's heart more than he wanted. The pique that had been laboring in Jack for all those years- like the tank in Roger's body- had finally exploded. And the pieces fell over him. Scattered over the ground like broken potato chips, Jack couldn't let it sink in just how.... how Roger had let go of him. Those last words, rang through his mind everyday like church bells. It hit his heart and would it sting like an open wound with drips of lemon juice. Jack had to shove it into the back of his brain- those last words of his son, would never be held against him, but would try not to be remembered on any occassion.
And that's where it would stay. Locked up in Jack's brain, and etched out of his heart. Fanned down with water poured around it, but still hidden little flames brimming inside the wood, ready to ignite once again.
*********************************************
The day after tomorrow was here, and so was Jack and Alice's plane. As the family was packing up to return home, Jack ran into another snag. Lucy found their hotel. She took her time marching to the elevators, down the hall and right to the door of the couple's room. A gentle knock sounded at the door- breaking Jack's concentration with pack his bags. Like he already knew who was at the door, an irritation spiked him. He yanked the door open and was met with Lucy.
"Hi Jack..." He didn't respond. "Can I come in?"
"We'll talk somewhere else." Grabbing his jacket and room key, Jack escorted Lucy down the hall.
Finally making their way into one of the hotel's resturants, Jack and Lucy took a table in the middle. Before Jack could speak, the waiter came.
"Hello, my name's, Steve, can I get you guys anything to get started with?"
"I'll just have a coffee." Jack said. "A tea with lemom would be nice."
Lucy stared back to Jack as the waiter walked away. "Jack.... I know this is hard for you."
Jack looked up at Lucy. "Mmm,"
Lucy licked her lips. "I... know that growing up in the house wasn't easy and... I can understand that." She looked down, afraid to make eye contact all of a sudden. "When I was younger, David was different. I don't know what changed him, but when we were first dating, he was kind and gentle. Playful actually, like you. And then, when we had you- I guess..... some parents see themselves in their children- I'm sure you do in your own son, right?"
Jack tensed up. Taking a deep breath in and rubbing his fingers together, he looked around the resturant, hoping for his coffee to come soon.
"Well... David.... your personalities were very similar and sometimes when that happens, parents tend to be harder on that child because they see their own mistakes in them; wanting them to be a better person then they are. But David loved you very much-"
"Seems like a blurred line." Jack tightened his lips. "You know.... Roger is like me in some ways. And yes, sometimes I do see myself in him-"
"You see, Jack-"
"Hold on, I'm not finished. While me and Roger are alike, I still have a choice. I treat Roger they way he deserves to be treated and there is no personality that will or should move the way I feel about him, or interfere in how I treat him with that love. No disrespect Mom, but you can make those excuses for Dad, but it'll never make him into a good person or a good father. He had a choice and my personality is nothing like his- I don't get violent or petty, I don't hurt my wife and I certainly don't lay a finger to my children. Whatever fantasy about Dad and who he was before or who he became after doesn't change anything. He was violent, he attacked and abused me, he was abusive to you and there is nothing on this planet that will ever be a good enough excuse for a parent to be a failure to their children. If you can't see that- even after all these years....... even with Dad being dead and you being free from that marrige.... if you can't understand that everything that's happened, then there's no reason for me to be in New York for any longer than I have been."
"Jack... I worked hard to make our family unit work. No, it wasn't perfect the way it was supposed to be- but I just wanted you to have a father and I needed a husband. I'm so sorry you feel this way and if I could change that, I would. Being a mother is hard, being a wife is hard, being a woman is hard, Jack. You don't understand because you're still a child in some way. All we ever wanted was to have your best interests at heart and.... so we went on with life, continuing doing what we had to do to be a family. So... maybe David did lose control sometimes and maybe you did get hurt in the mist of it... but can you not think about how much we sacrificed to give you this life because we love you? The past is the past Jack, and.... the only thing we can do now is cherish and honor your father's life. So, forget about that nonsense of David doing this or David doing that- independence isn't what it's all cracked up to be. Don't fan the flames, Jack.... follow the rules... and you'll be safe.
A silence fell over the table. Jack stared hard into his mother's eyes. Anger didn't even fuel him at this point- utter complete disgust had taken over, forcing Jack to see the other ugly side of the wicked table he was forced to sit at.
"Mom.... you settled for nothing because 'as a woman' that's what you believed yourself to be. That's why Alice intimidates you, that's why you're okay with being mistreated, and that's why even after all these years, you defend your abuser. You don't take me seriously because you play into this social code of being so satuated in 'a woman's place' that earth has spun a million times around you and you still can't move. Instead of working hard and forging a path of life in the way you wanted to live it... you just... beat yourself down until anyone could come and court you and you would still take it because that's all your good for- just a housewife. Tell me, what is it that you gave up? A man? A career? A goal? What is it about you that you can't let go of and instead needs to dangle onto the pieces of my self made future, and be a passive aggressive crone to the very woman who embodies everything you could never be, because you never tried to be her. You never tried for yourself and you expect me to hold your hand as you fall down into your own hole of worthless satisfaction because of a lie you choose to live because it's easier than a being a real woman. You don't have the guts to pick yourself back up and take a good, hard, stern look in the mirror and ask yourself: 'What am I going to do about it?' What I'm going to do, is grab my wife, my kids, and my bags and get the hell out of this city before I lose my mind too."
Sitting up from the table, Jack took one last hard look at Lucy. "Enjoy your tea." And with that, he left. Lucy sat at the table, still in this thick trance of mortification. Every word whizzed around her head like flies over a corpse. Even after the tea arrived, Lucy couldn't make herself drink it. Sitting there feeling smaller than a grain of rice, she didn't even try to fight it. She understood. Lucy was back in Jack's old bedroom, hugging the cold floor, after he had moved out from the home- not looking back for a second to what he left behind. And she was one of those things. David was gone, Jack was gone.... and now Lucy would have to live in the shattered shadow of herself- dying a slow bitter death from her own hands.
There was nothing else that could be said. Lucy had written her life exactly how she imagined it. Trapped and bubbled in this promise of what would make her happy, brought nothing but misery for everyone invovled. But even through the thick wall of the unknown, Lucy still had dreams. And her dreams would live unfinished in the deepest depths of her brain where she had kept them from the first time they even appeared.
************************************************************
Lucy couldn't shake the idea of a family. Mothers strolling down the aisles of the market with one child holding her hand, the other close to her chest in a sling. Then there were the three or four kids packed into the backseat of the family volkswagon for a family day trip. Families were everywhere to Lucy. Her friend, Diane and her husband, Ethan, had welcomed boy and girl twins that spring.
"They're beautiful! Irene looks just like you!" Lucy looked over to Diane's son. "Denver's Ethan's twin!" Lucy found herself lost in the cherubical cooing eyes of the new infants. Their gentle little yawns, their chubby little legs and baby doll faces felt perfect to Lucy. She observed the way Diane and Ethan interacted with their new children. How gentle Ethan was towards his children- especially Denver. Unafraid to lift him in his arms and smooch his little chubby cheek. Or seeing how Diane dressed Irene up in little dresses like a doll and how she would sing her in a gentle song like voice to sleep while holding her protectively in her arms- swaying back and forth like a delicate wind in the middle of a calm April.
Lucy could only observe the couple enjoying their new additions. Complete with their family- complete with their lives. Lucy had always felt Diane to be one step below what she should've been. But it was now Lucy who felt like she was three steps behind. Diane had did it all- courted, married, became pregnant and now was a mother. Diane was a wife and a mother- everything she should've been. She had done it all. Her home had improved- rich and lush backyard, wide living room with velvet pillows on the matching couch. Wall lights on every side of each door in the hallway, kitchen with big ovens, bright lights over the stove and a little crystal chandelier hanging over the sink.
Different from the simple little home they lived in for the first few months of their marriage- Ethan gaining up his own business, decided his family needed to begin on a different side of the city. Big white home, balcony overhead of the front door, picture windows on each side- big house sitting on a lush thick hill of grass with roses planted towards the front door.
Diane had everything. Everything that Lucy was sure she was destined to have. Groups of families were everywhere Lucy turned. Little boys and girls, babies, teenagers, preteens- all skating along with their parents down the road of family life. Something Lucy needed. It was planned; a promise that was decided for her once she entered into the pubescent callow ambition of preparing for future purpose. Lucy began to wonder when it would happen. When her belly grow with a child, when would she be able to nurture a child. Lucy had it all set. Her and David would go for a nice dinner by the lake. Then... they would continue their night in a whirlwind of lust all the way into the bedroom. Then a few weeks later, Lucy would be pregnant- expecting her first child, like she always wanted.... like she needed. Diane had a husband, she had riches... and now she had children. Lucy couldn't think about her friend's perfect little home on her serene little hill with her wealthy husband, her perfect set of twins- of each gender.
It was all Lucy could think about some days- despite her intentions to not to. Babies, Diane, her twins, her home- they all circled Lucy's mind like a spinner. And the more it spinned, the more her desires grew... and so did her fears. Lucy needed a baby- being the housewife she was expected to be- the woman she should be- she needed a baby.... she had to be a mother.
*******************************************************
It was late winter- Febuary, Valentine's day, when Lucy realized she was pregnant. She knew she was. She was never full anymore, her periods had gone and every morning, a pounding sickness would befall her. Sometimes she would just feel nauseated and tired, other times she would being rushing towards the bathroom with lightning speed before any vile could come up.
The first few months, Lucy assumed it was just a stomach bug. "You'll be fine," David would say, "what's for dinner?"
Some nights, Lucy was humped over the toilet, gagging and throwing up into the toilet. David would turn the radio up or leave to walk down to the local bar. Then her stomach started to grow. Caught between excitment over the little fetus growing; expanding her belly large- belly button poking out a bit of her maternity dress. "Cover it! You don't want people thinking you're a whale!" David sneered. Lucy could see the looks on David's face whenever they went out in public together. Lucy felt proud to show off her little bump; a medal, she felt like. An award for how fertile her body was. How easy it was to carry a baby. No one seemed to stare, as far as Lucy could see. Men opening doors and grabbing the items on the highest shelfs for Lucy- David standing behind, chatting with the slender checkout girl who was several years younger than him.
Woman smiling and congratulating Lucy on her pending new bundle of joy. It was also around the time Lucy would find pin-up girls; bare woman pictures stashed by David's desk. Lucy just stared at the pictures- the woman- slender, nude, with bright smiles or seductive smirks. Something broke in Lucy. But she obediently placed the pictures back into David's hiding spot, rarely going by the desk ever again.
Days and nights went by. Lucy felt the sting of feeling bloated; a fat unattractive whale, like David would point out at every turn. Lucy- broken hearted and empty- reassured herself of it all being worth it. The baby would be here and their family would be complete. David would scoop their child in his arms and kiss their little face all over- proud of them for being his little baby. "They're alright," David said of children, while smoking a cigarette one evening. "Their likes cars: people have them to show em off, then stuff them in the back when they don't wanna be bothered." Lucy sighed. David... did make a point. Most parents did love their children- Diane and Ethan being head over heels with theirs. But the style of society was children were to be 'seen and not heard.' David didn't exactly dislike children himself- he felt nothing for them. No hate, no love. "Better not be no little shit or something.... I'll kick its ass if they screw with me... fucking up my time or something...."
"Oh, David, they'll be perfect-"
"It needs to be a boy. A son is a good value to pass down the Chamber name."
It made something else snap inside Lucy. As the months passed, her stress grew. Lucy pared her eating habits- slim with a slight belly was good enough. At least, to David it was. "You're too big for sex now, Lucy. I don't need you crushing me in my sleep or something."
Tiredness became faintness. Lucy would fall over on the bed, or nearly slip in the kitchen. Sudden panic attacks would plauge whenever the thought of David with another woman would enter into her brain. Never proved, Lucy suspected it. It swallowed her focus over the last trimester- so much so, that the braxton hicks simply slipped past her. And it was that October when Jack was born. Sudden contractions hit her one evening, rushing David out of the bed and to the hospital. "It wasn't supposed to be like this!" She said, aloud. "It's too early!"
"Just calm down, Lucy... it's just a month, it ain't like the baby's coming six months early- then you would've failed." David laughed.
A few screams and pushes later, Jack's cries could be heard from all the way down the hall. Rushed to the incubator, Jack lived in there for the next month. As Lucy would pace the halls and look into the little glass box that held her baby, fear overtook her. "He was supposed to be healthy," She said to herself. "He was supposed to come in November."
David never visited the hospital even once. At home, drinking down a usual six pack, Lucy would take the car to the hospital up until Jack came home on his planned due date. But Lucy would remember that month Jack spent in the hospital. A fierce passion for power. Kicking and screaming whenever the nurse would come to change his diapers. Grabbing at his feeding tube, moving his arms and legs in every direction. Eyes opened, scanning around the room for what he could see. Lucy wouls swaddle his little hand in her fingers. Eyes staring so deeply into him- seeing how green his eyes were, how deep his dimples were. Taking him home one night, Lucy let this deep sigh of relief out inside her. Healthy and free, Jack had made it out to the other side.
But the fight was far from over.
***********************************************
Jack, only a few months old, could sense something about his surroundings. Quiet most days, but usettling- a heavy mog of precarious lingered through every door, around every corner and inside every wall. Even through the bars of his crib, Jack felt cold. Unprotected- even in the arms of Lucy, Jack carried this sense of helpless exposure. Looking into Lucy's eyes, Jack saw through them. The smile she wanted so badly to carry through every inch of her. Jack could only stare at Lucy. Look into her eyes- the way she wanted- but saw nothing. A hollow facade sat still in her eyes, her smile, her laugh, the way she catered to David... the way she loved Jack. And in some way, he knew that. A deep lie sat in back of the catalog magazine picture face, she held. Bright smile, fresh skin, perfect body- everything carefully caculated down to the last detail. But Jack was a baby- a small helpless little one who needed a fresh love from their caregiver. Lucy's body carried the weight of her desires- it was the effort behind the little word she created that carried nothing. To Jack, her perfect skin was cold. Her milk was sour. Her arms were wobbly and frail. Jack couldn't depend on anything Lucy could offer- even from her own body.
It took almost a month for Jack to latch to his mother's nipples. Lucy pulled him close, only for Jack to pull away. Then when Jack was four months, Lucy tried to hold him in a baby sling while going for a stroll in the park. Jack cried the whole time- using his little arms to pull himself away from Lucy's chest. A red faced Lucy took Jack home and set him down for a nap for the rest of the afternoon. After several attempts of this, Lucy eventually gave up until Jack was nearly a year old and they would go to the park- a playdate with Diane's twins- while Jack was preoccupied with a toy.
This frustrated Lucy. Jack wouldn't want his mother's touches- her hugs or kisses she tried to pepper onto his cheeks. Not cooing the way baby Denver did when his Dad would make funny faces, or how Irene would giggle over her Mommy tickling and kissing her little feet. Jack wouldn't smile, even when Lucy would smile at him. When Jack began to crawl, he would crawl over towards his stuffed bear- scooting around his parents to reach the stuffie. Jack took his bottle- holding it in his hands himself once he learned what a grip was. Jack learned to stand on his own and took his time walking into the kitchen to reach the little block that was under the table. Jack learned to do what most babies did on his own. Lucy was there. She would wait for Jack to crawl to her; beg for her warm soothing gestures of love or fed off her motherly tenderness. But she was just forced to watch. Looking at Jack grow up for himself- all on his own.
He rejected her hand in anything- wanting to do it himself. And that's what Jack did- everything he wanted to do.... he did. All by himself.
Lucy would watch from the couch- staring at Jack, waiting for him to mess up, so she could come in and mother him. Take control of her destiny. What kind of mother, doesn't teach their baby? She thought. What baby.... doesn't want their own mother? This would sit Lucy until Jack was a year and a half. And then again when the day came for Jack to leave the family home.
The more Jack grew, the more he learned to do. And while Lucy could celebrate these things... resentment start to set in as well.
************************************************************
Lucy thought she couldn't put her finger on it; reasons piled to why Jack wouldn't want to latch close to his mother- the woman who gave him life. Nursing him inside of her body for all those months, only to be rejected- it spat back in her face. Lucy would look at Diane and Ethan and how their family was so different. Love was flooded in every corner of their home. They had the family fun daytime trips, the beach days on hot summer days, the big vans that shuttled the family of four around, wherever they wanted to go. Whenever it suited them.
Maybe Jack was just different. Maybe something was wrong with him, Lucy thought. After all, she did everything right. She let David have what he wanted; sizing herself down during her pregnancy days for his idea of what her body should look like, powdering the little stretch marks she had that looked like cracks on the edges of where her belly grew, being very strict with her calories and how much milk she pumped into Jack's bottles-David liked bigger breats and Lucy needed to please him- but it still wasn't enough. Lucy held Jack close to her and he would push her away... she'd push him harder towards her and he would cry.
It was always liked that when Lucy would steer him harder towards her. And Jack would cry. He would crawl away, walk away, run away. And Lucy would have to watch him from behind as he sheltered himself from her.
Those days, Lucy questioned why she even had Jack in the first place. But... she knew why. Lucy needed a perfect family. Jack completed that family. Except.... he didn't want to be a part of it. Desperation kicked in. The harder Lucy tried to bond with him, the more Jack wouldn't want her around. So then resentment settled in. Money- all of hers would be spent on baby clothes that Jack would either throw up on or soil. Then her time would be spent, making bottles and filling them faster than her body could handle. It exhausted her, leaving her with barely any energy to care for a baby. Lucy had comepletly forgotten about what signs of developmental issues the doctor advised her to look for. She was too tried- to angry to care. David got to sit back and jug down his usual beers and smoke his musky cigars, while Lucy- barely hanging on, had to tend to a baby that she couldn't seem to get to love her, no matter what she did.
Lucy begin to understand the deep meaning of bitter disappointment. "I tried." She would always say to herself some days, when Jack was extra fussy. Slamming bottles into the sink, practically yanking at the snips of Jack's diaper when he needed changing, Lucy felt beyond angry. She felt cheated. Like life cheated her- fooled her into the believing how perfect life would be if she just simply did as she was expected to. Jack would cry- scream through the night sometimes. Lucy would lie awake, eyes wide open from her own bitter thoughts- not the boring cries from Jack's bedroom. "Shut that damn kid up!" David rolled over and glared at Lucy. Lucy glanced over. "Dave, I'm tired, can't you do it?"
"You wanted him, right?"
"Yea-"
"Then you go change his diaper or whatever the hell he's crying over!"
Lucy huffed and stormed into Jack's room. She just looked down in his crib; didn't touch him, didn't say a word to him.... just stared. A glare forming over her face. Jack's cries made her think of when he was born....too early. He could've died. Then what would a dead baby be good for? He couldn't come home on time, ruining her chance to show him off to Diane and Ethan- rubbing it in their face of the detectives new son. But instead, she was left the pace the hospital floors, worrying the hair out of her head, whether or not Jack would even survive the night.
Her body was gone. The one David loved so much. Now was replaced with a nudie magizine and for Lucy- a slouchy stomach and stretch marks that looked like webbed little cracks. The lotion softened them and underestimated their apperance, but no matter how good they looked, David would know they were there and so would Lucy. But then Lucy started to notice the twins. They're hair had grown in- Denver's dark brown and Irene's blonde. She noticed how when Diane would walk through the front door, the children would run into her arms, each one clawing for her attention. The resentment grew from there- Lucy thinking Diane was undeserving of such a bond. She didn't marry well- Ethan barely making ends meet when they first met. Diane wasn't a typical housewife- working for the news station at the public radio center downtown. "How can she even make time for her family? For her children?"
"Mhmm," David responded. "I mean- she should be home catering to house. That's what a wife does.... and to be a mother and run around like that.... that's not what women were created for."
"Damn right." David puffed in another puff from his cigar. "Probably hoe hopping or some shit, knowing her..." And Lucy wanted to believe that. But she knew Diane: crisp, clean, sturdy in her ambitions and devoted to the only man she ever layed eyes on in such a tender way all through her life.
One night, Jack was crying for something- Lucy didn't even care what it was for. But his wailing seemed to grind inside her ears. "Oh I can't stand to hear the children cry, especially when they're in pain," Diane took a sip of her tea, "I just feel so helpless in those situations. Last week, Denver needed a small booster and when he wailed I just couldn't take it. I wanted to just step out for a minute, but Ethan left before me. He can't bare to hear the children cry either."
Lucy could relate half heartdly to Diane's woes. She hated hearing Jack cry, but more for the annoying blares of it, rather than the anxious worry of might be happening. She tried rocking him in her arms- he still cried. She tried singing to him, but he still cried. Lucy paced the living room floor with Jack tucked into her arms, but he still cried. And nothing was about to make it stop. "God dammit! Stop crying!" She snapped. Her hands clutching him a bit harder than she should, her grip tightning with every second she held him. So, she set hims down on the couch and walked into the kitchen. Whatever happens, happens she thought. But the crying echoed even into the kitchen. Scrambling to every corner of the house, she just couldn't escape Jack... haunted by her mistake. Lucy didn't want Jack... she never did. But... she wanted the perfection. So, Jack had to be born if she was to complete it.
But it still didn't eschew the crying. Lucy thought for barely a second. Her nerves and anger reaching its limit. Storming back into the living room, she grabs Jack into her arms and swaddles him into one of his warm fuzzy blankets. She grabbed the old box from where Jack's crib had been delivered in and cut it into a smaller one with the boxcutter. David was at work, the house was empty and only the glow of the streetlamps could be seen. Stepping out of the house carefully, Lucy walked down a few blocks, turned a corner here, another one there, until she hit the fire department. She carefully placed Jack into the box and slid him towards the front door of the station. His crying had stopped and Lucy turned around to walk away. But something stopped her. It made her spin around and yank Jack back up into her arms and rushed back home.
Lucy never mentioned a word of what happened that night- to David, nor to Jack.
Lucy knew the reasons why she took Jack back into her arms that night. It was because she saw a glimmer of hope in her future. She held hope that she did the right thing- she followed the rules and someday she would be rewarded. Lucy was a woman, who became a housewife and then a mother. She married well, she stayed at home and cared for the house, she tended to every need and want of her husband and made sure she obeyed and respected David when it was necessary. Everything she was supposed to be. A smile came over Lucy's face. She did do right. She may have had to sacrifice her desires, but it was worth it. The perfect family was the perfect goal in every woman's life and she slowly begin to accept that again. It was her duty to be this way and it would never change.
And as Jack grew, the more she steeped into that role. Submissive when David 'punished' Jack, or understanding when a bruise or two fell over face or her son's because of a bad work day. "He's just a little upset, sweetie." She would tell a five year old Jack. Heels neatly side by side as she stood over the sink, scrubbing out the pots and pans from dinner last night, Lucy wore this cheesy smile over her face that couldn't be broken, no matter you told her otherwise.
Jack remembered looking her up and down. A sick feeling eroded itself over him like vile in the stomach wanting to be expelled. But it was just his mother. Her obsessive dedication to the man who would continue to haunt Jack- even into his adulthood- and stand by like nothing was happening. Jack hated the grin his mother would give him after every 'fall' or 'clumsy move' and she was bandaging him up in the bathroom. Her eyes held the most intense and unsteady cynicism that he would ever see in a person. And he would see those eyes looking down into his crib, or while he would be nursing from his bottle and she would just stare at him. The same woman that he felt such a irk from the moment he met her, wouldn't even come to his defense, but asked the nerve to join her in her dizzy little daydream of what the Chambers household really was. Squinting his eyes at her, he hopped off the stool and went into his bedroom. Lucy heard the door slam; a flinch sprung through her before she took a deep breath, remembered the reward and continued scrubbing those dishes.
Jack would sit in his room and think about Lucy. He would think about how her smile, her little laugh and her jolly good nature was all crafted to fit what she need it to be. He felt it. He knew it. Jack knew the way she looked at him wasn't a motherly smile or even just naive positivity. All of it- masked into this little dance of what she wanted to be so badly, that she could even kill for it.
And for that Jack was alone. Comepletly alone. And years later... Lucy would begin to understand just how much it costs to be perfect.
*************************************************
Alice was packing her things into her suitcase carefully. Placing each item very carefully- taking her time almost stalling to leave New York. And in some way, she was. Alice wanted to be with her children. She wanted Roger and Jack to talk. She wanted Susan and Jack to talk about Roger and David.....maybe. Alice just wanted to be a whole family again.
Knock!
Alice shot up, walking towards the door and looking through the peep hole, she was met with Roger's hourglass presence. She opened the door instantly- her face lighting up at seeing her tall lanky son. His broad shoulder's seemed more dense in the lighting, his hair more browner and eyes more grassy colored. "Hi," he said. Short with words, Alice didn't even reply- only invited him in without a moment's thought.
"Where's Dad?"
"Downstairs in the lobby I think with your Grandmother, Lucy." Roger took a deep breath. "Good." Alice looked up. "Good?"
Roger shrugged. "I wanted to talk to you...... I just wanted to give a proper goodbye- we didn't have much time to chat at the funeral."
Alice looked down. "I know..." she came closer. "I'm going to miss you.... so much..." her voice cracked. Roger pulled Alice in for a hug.
She cried softly into his body, letting out the shattered pieces of their tense filled reunion. "Oh, Roger.... please just come home...." she sobbed. Pulling away and looking into his eyes, Alice faced her son and studied his more mature features than when she last saw him a person in the same lighting only a few years back. So young and ambitious with pride and such good faith. A thirty year old now stood in front of her- a chiseled jawline, piercing yet steady and gentle eyes, a few more forehead creases and a subtle little lines hidden around the corners of his mouth when he smiled and the corners of his eyes when they squinted from a deep smile.
A shockwave of pride and ire shot through her like a vodka shot. Angry that Jack made her miss out on those few years in between where she could slowly see how his face- his body... himself and how much he was shaping into through them. But they were stolen from her the minute Roger cut the off from Jack, leaving her to suffer in the middle of the downfall of it all.
"We missed your thirtieth..." she started. Roger looked down. "Yeah.... I celebrated myself with a few drinks and a fancy dinner.... I had a book release a week before and I celebrated that much harder-"
"It would've been a nice party.... you're always releasing books, honey. But what about.... making time for the other things... yourself and.... the people around you...."
"You mean like Dad?" Alice gave him a look. "Well... I mean.... you know..." Suddenly Roger's confident little smirk simmered down into a frown.
"You don't have to be coy.... I did what I wanted to do with him, and.... that's all there is..."
"He's heartbroken! I understand you want some independence, but- he's your father.... all he wanted was the best for you, Roger...."
"So... you're defending him?"
"Roger.... I'm not justifying your father's way of handling it, but you have to understand... people aren't perfect."
Roger was quiet for a moment. Alice continued to stare into him, hoping to break his concentration from whatever was forming in his mind. "What are you expecting me to do?"
Alice raised her hands before slapping them against her thighs. "Maybe... make amends?"
"No. Not this time."
"Why not?"
"Mom.... Dad.... he has problems.... for whatever they are, whatever it will be, they're there... and they're very real. I made a choice to not make those my problems... and unfortunatly, if I carried on with brushing it off like -at least how people expect me to- then Dad would've became one those problems for me too.... So.... I let it go. And in the process.... I've had to let him go too."
Alice stared for a second.
"Amends is not something that just comes out of thin air because of interchangeable expectations... or maybe.. just disappointments. Frankly, I'm just not ready to have that type of conversation with someone who I feel hasn't changed. And then that would just leave us with all those years of the same thing. I guess.... it's just inappropriate at this time for me to fully commit myself to something that.... just doesn't exist for me right now."
Alice blinked. "Roger.... how could you say something like that about your father?"
"Because you were decent." Alice's eyes grew wide with a glossy shine over them. Roger came closer to his mother, meeting her face. Pressing a kiss to her cheek, Roger stared back, as Alice had trouble rejoining her attention to her son's face.
"And I thank you for that..." Roger gave Alice one last look, before opening the door and walking out of the room.
************************************************
Everything felt hazy for Jack that evening. Jack and Alice said their goodbyes to everyone: Susan, Sean and Roger. They watched their daughter get onto her plane with Sean closely behind her, they watched Roger settle into his flight, looking down at his pager for something important, and then their plane arrived and took them back to their warm weathered cozy home in San Deigo.
As the world shifted into the next year, Jack still was somehow stuck back in that hotel room- the funeral reliving every moment of that hurt. Pain from everything around him: his mother, his son, his wife.... not able to focus his mind on his dead father buried in that casket. Jack took another swig from his Jack Daniels. No glass with him, just straight from the bottle. He wondered if Alice would know that he was gone by now- the bed empty and cold on his side and Alice would feel this light air pressing against her back.
Jack sipped down the last drop of his liquor, but still unnumbed. Wide open- his mind racing in a thousand different places, and they all led to David. His screams, his insults and belittling, his punches, his kicks, his slaps... all haunted Jack like this mirror on the wall, reflecting ghosts behind him to shatter him comepletly pale and striken with hoplessness. Then Jack thought about the casket. How it was probably heading back down to Virginia right now, where David originated from. As the circles around his eyes sunk in deeper, Jack- in a faint but grounded sense- decided he would finally end this.
His son hated him, his wife was beginning to hate him and his daughter was forced to look at the once perfect family turn broken into a million different pieces scattered all over the floor. And Jack had enough. He would find a way to fix this- to make his family whole again.
And he would begin with his own roots. Jack would finally set himself free.
And somehow... set everyone free as well.
#jack chambers#jack chambers blurbs#Jack chambers one shots#Jack chambers son#jack chambers daughter#Alice chambers#Roger chambers#Susan chambers#Jack chambers fanfiction#harry styles#harry styles imagine#dadrry#dad!harry#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fanfictions#harry styles one shots#Harry styles blurbs#Harry styles fanfic#harry styles son#harry styles love#harry styles fic#jack chambers imagines#jack chambers imagine#jack and roger#Jack chambers fanfic
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The Moon Boys as Dads
꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦
Warnings: The moon boys being girl dads and mentions of Jake teaching your kid how to fight a bitch
Author’s Snip: This would happen eventually. It's been bubbling in my mind since I've started writing for Moon Knight. It's inevitable, everyone in this fandom wants to have their babies.
Notes: I genuinely think that Jake's part is the only one that would be troubling but let's face it. If Jake had a kid, especially a daughter, he's going to teach her how to fight and send the to the ER or to the scale
I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.
꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦
Okay. First thing I need to make straight. I understand that the idea of them having a son is deep. Have it that it heals some of that inner child in Marc and thus the rest of them. And I think that idea is lovely. Honestly can't get enough of it, gets me in the bullseye of my feels
But these men are such girl dads, all three of them
So we're gonna go slightly off of that
Steven Grant
Steven strikes me as the type of guy who just fits into the family man role so well
Absolute proud stay at home dad who has a million photos of all of his kids energy.
Yep, that's right, kids, plural, he wants a bunch of them
He understands and respects if you want just one or two but... like...
He's so good with kids, come on, episode one where he was talking with the little girl??? You can't tell he's not great with kids. He can handle a gaggle of kids if you'd be okay with having a bunch with him.
"One for each of the us" is a joke he'd make
But let's go with the perspective that you have a daughter with him
Already he's just obsessed with her as soon as he gets to hold her
Kids are very chatty, which is great because Steven's chatty and also listens, so if your daughter is talking about her day at school then he listens and nods along.
He'd also do this with her as a baby when all she could do was babble. He'd just listen to it and say "And then what?"
Steven, although he can be quite sassy, is naturally very polite and I'm pretty sure that rubs off on your daughter. He teaches her proper manners like saying "please", "thank you", and "excuse me"
Teaches her about Egyptology because of course he does, you think he's not going to give her those kids books about Egypt? You think the egyptology nerd isn't going to make his kid an egyptology nerd?
If she takes on another interests that's fine too but you think you aren't going to have one more dork in your house?
He praises her all the time for being interested in so many things.
Not to make him sound like one of those dads but he's glad that his kid reads books
Marc Spector
I'll save you what you've heard before. Marc is unsure, Marc is worried that he's gonna fuck up, Gods have mercy on Marc, blah blah blah
And sure I'll go in on it a little bit too
Marc is of course worried about how well he'd do at parenting since he still has some emotional and mental scars that haven't fully been patched up or wounds he's too scared to lick
But hey, he knows what not to do, and that's at least something
He might helicopter parent a little, maybe even a lot, when your daughter is little, especially if she gets her adventurous side early and it's really strong
You and the boys might have to remind him that she's a kid, she's gonna want to navigate and explore what's around her and maybe she'll do something dumb and get hurt a bit
As long as she knows what's dangerous and what's gonna earn her a band-aid
Marc's good when she's a kid but I feel like he just feels more comfortable when she's older, like teenager age
I actually feel like he'd be one of those dads who gets it in his kids head that they can still be a teenager and do teenager things but don't get into any trouble or do something really bad
"Focus on school and stay away from those groups" type of dad that really just means "Don't get Fs in class and don't get arrested."
He's letting her make mistakes and grow from it but he's not gonna baby her either
Marc won't entirely be the "No boys allowed" type of dad either. But if she brings a boy home for any reason, even if the boy's just a classmate that she's doing a project with, then he's telling her that the door stays open till he leaves or they do the project and research in living room or whatever
He's so proud of her too. He makes sure she knows just how loved she is and that he will always be there
Marc actually wants to be the type of parent where whenever his daughter gets in trouble or make a mistake that she thinks "I need to call my dad." instead of "My dad's going to kill me."
Jake Lockley
Jake would have said he wanted a boy but that's a lie he wants a girl first
I can see both Marc and Jake not really being the types to keep their kid in gender roles, neither is Steven if his daughter wants to do things that are considered masculine or boyish then he won't stop her he just sort of defaults to thinking that she'd want to do girly things, but Jake is the type of dad that wouldn't care if he has a daughter he's gonna teach her how to stuff and to take shit from no one
She's going to be a spitfire if Jake's her daddy, that's for sure. A real Buttercup.
She once got in trouble for fighting a boy in her grade because he was making fun of her and he scolded her when you were around but he was secretly so proud
When she's older he teaches her how to fight people and defend herself, I mean he already told her to do that when she was younger but back then it was kick, bite, and scream. When she's a teen it's teaching her how to right and left hook and disorientate
Fuck, she's probably good with a knife too
Jake knows that your daughter can handle herself pretty well but he's still going to be protective over her
If she has a relationship and they put their hands on her that person's just straight up dead
She might know how to aim for the vitals and wash blood off her clothes but she's still his little princess
#moon knight#moonknight#steven grant#marc spector#jake lockley#steven grant x reader#marc spector x reader#jake lockley x reader
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How would Santi react if his usually polite Minx turned a tinny bit feral during sex?
The first round is normal; Minx is just enjoying the pleasure, not much more. Giggling, teasing, and secretly hoping he still has another round in him.
The second round is okay-ish; Minx would start crying tears of joy and screaming, 'Oh fuck yes', 'I love you, I love you, I love you' if he continued after the first round. Most of Minx's previous partners only had one round in them, so a two-rounder or more is like a special treat for her.
The third round is when things start going downhill; she starts drooling and any part of him that is near her mouth will get licked. Some examples are: if they were doing something like face-down ass up, if he places his hand on either side of her head, one of them will be covered in saliva by the time he pulls it away. If it was missionary, she'd start licking his neck, shoulder, shoulder blade, collarbone anywhere she could reach.
The fourth round and beyond is when she'd start clawing and biting at him; she'd shred his back into ribbons or bite his arm if something felt too good. In this kind of state, she's the definition of no thoughts, head empty, cause if she were strong enough, she'd rip a chunk out of him and not give a shit even when he's howling in agony.
Trying to pull out or leave will earn him a very angry Minx; she'll growl, which is more like an annoyed groan, and glare at him like, "How dare you? Are you stupid or something?" Minx is like a cat who's offended that you stopped petting them instead of a fearsome predator.
If he still insists on leaving, Minx will jump on his back, sink her nails into his chest, bite his nape, and cling to him for dear life.
She's not letting him go anywhere until she is thoroughly fucked (she might faint).
This ask was inspired by Santi in this ask https://www.tumblr.com/eldritch-spouse/744062965662285824/how-would-santi-react-if-he-sat-down-and-i-just?source=share the part here was jutting his hips I had to grip my sheets for dear life not to start barking. I want to slam dunk him into my bed sooo bad 😩
Recall that Santi is a high-ranker. Even if you aren't "feral" during sex, he can very well make you with little effort.
While it's funny to see this transformation take place in you with so little effort, and a fairly large ego-stroke, Santi isn't exactly surprised. He's got a good eye for guessing what type of attitudes people will have during sex, and while he's not impervious to misguided assumptions, he knows the quiet and polite kind like you tend to really let that beast go as soon as they're comfortable sexually.
Truthfully, he's kind of glad for this. Because sometimes clients want Santi to be more composed, and so he has to hold back some mannerisms that might frighten or shatter arousal. Not with you. If you're growling, soaking him saliva and tearing at his skin- Then you can handle a proper incubus. You wouldn't mind if he snarled loud enough to rattle your skeleton, wouldn't mind if the charming grin was replaced with bared teeth and glaring, if he held you by the neck and head sunk his claws into the meat of your ass to better hold your fragile body. You'd enter a possibly dangerous positive feedback loop of intensity thanks to the incubus' fluids, if not for Santi's self-control.
Your anger is hilarious to him. You're like a feisty house cat, honestly. Don't want Santi to pull out? Too bad, he wants to try a new position. Swipe at him and he'll snap his teeth in your face, a language that everyone understands no matter how fried their brain is.
Santi assumes that, given how hysterical you become the more you're pleasured, you won't be able to recognize your body's limits and will just continuously scream and scratch for more. The ideal victim really, who begs for their own demise- But that's not what you are to him, you're a treasure he can't afford to break.
So the incubus decides when sex stops.
By that time you're likely already properly worn out like a wrung towel and he's preparing your aftercare. But in case he decides it's not a good idea to go that far, then you can huff and puff all you want, Santi won't resume sex acts again.
People could mistake you for an entitled concubus with that attitude!
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“Well if you were worried about cool people you shouldn’t have let Peony invite that ElvenKing.” Pippin pointed out.
Bilbo almost looked a mix of disgusted and concerned. “King Thranduil is c- wait why did Peony want to invite him?”
-----
Thorin in the moonlight was something else.
Of course, he’d always loved Thorin in the sun. Thorin in the forest. Bathing in the river. Under firelight in the bedroom. But Thorin in the moonlight, surrounded by his mountainous kingdom of stone. It was something else.
The bit of grey in his hair seemed to shine in the moonlight and the silver beads and baubles in his hair and braids were gleaming. “You look like a dream.”
-----
“You’re my cup-bearer, are you not?”
Bilbo blinked,. His lips were slightly parted and he licked them, brushing his hair behind his ear. What was wrong with him?
“To make sure it isn’t poisoned?” He looked at the rim of the cup before him, entirely unable to look the king in his eyes.
“Will you not do your duty?”
“Are you ordering me?”
“Yes.”
-----
Bilbo nodded to himself and waited for the two of them to exit, fully intending to be discovered.
“Oh!” The Bekhzél gave a small gasp of surprise when she saw Bilbo leaning against the wall just outside the Great Hall. Thorin quickly rushed to join her, looking a bit guilty when he saw Bilbo there. “Chamber Master Baggins, you surprised me.”
“You surprise me, Bekhzél.” He spoke with something heavy in his voice. Bitterness? He wasn’t sure.
-----
Bilbo swallowed and let out a shaky breath. “I- A-Are you trying to get me in bed? I’ll kick everyone out right this instant.”
Thorin’s deep chuckle rumbled through the crowded hall, grounding Bilbo back to the present. The smirk playing on the dwarf king's lips was undeniably mischievous. "Not tonight, Bilbo," he replied, his voice a soothing timbre that only added to Bilbo's flustered state. "Though, the thought had crossed my mind once or twice."
-----
in a quiet hall of Erebor, Mirabella Brandybuck hit the ground.
Unhinged version:
Faramir, being led around by four of the Boggins sisters. He gave Bilbo a polite wave before he was hurried along.
“Check on him in half an hour and save him if need be.” He whispered to Frodo, who nodded while trying to hold back a laugh.
“Oh, don’t laugh at the poor man.” He scolded while barely stopping a chuckle of his own.
The Princes of Erebor were next, with Fíli and Kíli quickly being approached by Merry and Pippin. The four seem to be getting on quite well and that only made Bilbo nervous.
----
Elrond’s twins, Elladan and Elrohir, were next to enter just as the music started up. The twins very quickly caught sight of the princes of Erebor with Merry and Pippin and immediately made their way over.
Ah. There are six of them. Erebor was doomed at this rate.
-----
Peony and Thranduil were sitting quite close and were chatting away like old friends.
Why the fuck was Peony even near him? Why was he talking to Peony? Maybe it was a weird pregnancy thing, like when she once insisted that sardines and mangos were delicious together. Yes. Certainly, it was the pregnancy that was messing with her brain and making her think it was a good idea to befriend King Thranduil of Mirkwood.
-----
He still frowned at the sight of Peony and Thranduil sitting together. He even noticed Legolas giving them odd looks from where he stood, now with the group of Elrond’s sons, the princes of Erebor, Merry and Pippin. There are seven of them now. He certainly didn’t regret introducing them. The elves and the dwarves would never scheme together, but with Merry and Pippin, he felt all the worse and most mischievous traits of them all were amplified. It stressed Bilbo out enough that he didn’t notice Peony and Thranduil quietly leaving together.
#thorin x bilbo#bagginshield#the hobbit fanfiction#bilbo x thorin#bagginshield smut#bamf bilbo baggins#bilbo baggins#frodo baggins#the hobbit thorin#the hobbit bilbo#hobbit#the hobbit#fanfiction#ao3 author#fanfic#ao3fic
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Next Stop: Celebration Station!
Fluff
Noritoshi Kamo x gn!reader
It’s Noritoshi’s birthday so you decided to treat him with a surprise celebration :)
It was finally June 5. The day you’ve been looking forward to for months.
Noritoshi’s birthday!
You hopped out of bed, eager to put your plan in motion. Decorating his room and throwing a party would be the easy part. The most difficult part was making sure he didn’t catch on to what you were doing because you knew he would protest your efforts.
“I’ve never celebrated my birthday,” Noritoshi had confessed to you sometime last year when the topic arose. “I was taught that my existence was a burden. Why would anyone in my clan celebrate that?”
When your boyfriend confided in you, you felt your heart shatter into a million pieces. That day, you swore to yourself that his next birthday was going to be one he’d never forget and you immediately started figuring out everything you wanted to do to make his day as special as he was.
You were shocked that your classmates were willing to not only help distract Noritoshi long enough for you to decorate the common room, but actively participate in the birthday festivities. You thought they’d laugh at you or at the very least politely decline, but everyone was on board. Even Mai, which you never saw coming, but you figured she had a niceness buried deep, deep, deep down inside her. Their willingness to come to your aid was currently coming in handy as Momo was tasked with keeping Noritoshi in the library for as long as possible, pretending to need tutoring and study advice. If that failed, Miwa was going to ask for a detailed lesson in the history of archery. If that failed, then Todo would restrain him until you were ready. Thankfully, your first plan with Momo was going smoothly according to the thumbs up text she sent you. Kokichi was helping you, via Mechamaru, put up streamers high in the room so you didn’t have to teeter on chairs and potentially fall over. Meanwhile, you were busy baking the cake. Noritoshi loved coffee so what better than a chocolate mocha flavored birthday cake? It wasn’t traditional by any means but you figured he’d dealt with enough tradition throughout his life that this would be a welcome change. When the batter was done, you sneaked a little taste to make sure it was yummy—so did Mai, as her finger was coated in the raw dessert from dipping it straight in the mixing bowl.
“Ew, Mai! You got your germs in it,” you cried.
“When Kamo blows the candles out, his germs are gonna get all over it anyway,” she said, licking her finger.
“Yeah, but I kiss him so that doesn’t matter,” you mumbled under your breath. Unfortunately, Mai heard you.
A wicked grin spread on her face. “I can kiss you if it makes you feel better about this whole thing.”
She started running toward you and you quickly put up the spatula as your defense weapon.
“Stay away from me, you weirdo!” you yelled out, half laughing. Mai started cackling as well, grabbing one more swipe of batter and opting to leave you be as you still had lots more work to do and she didn’t want to put you behind schedule in fear of being told to pick up the slack. With the cake in the oven, you went to work on the snacks next. When those were finished, you pulled the baked cake out of the oven to cool before frosting. You checked on Kokichi, who was all done with the decorating. His last task was to just meet back here with the rest of your classmates in an hour or so when you expected Noritoshi to arrive. You neatly displayed the party plates and flatware on top of the birthday tablecloth adorned dining table and placed the snack platters where they could be accessible to everyone. When the cake was able to be frosted, you worked diligently as time was running out before the man of the hour would show up. With 5 minutes to spare, you were finished. You smiled to yourself, satisfied with all the hard work you and your friends put into this and hoped Noritoshi would appreciate your efforts. You heard a knock at the door and you peeked out the window, relieved to see your classmates. You quickly ushered them in, telling them to be as quiet as possible for when Momo and Noritoshi showed up.
“Not a problem!” said Todo, his voice booming throughout the common room. Mai rolled her eyes and Miwa visibly cringed, Mechamaru placing a gentle hand on her shoulder in an effort to calm her down. It felt like an eternity passed before you heard Momo outside the door.
“…want some lunch? I think there’s some leftovers in the fridge in here.”
You heard the calm voice of Noritoshi speak up and your heart was pounding in your chest from both nerves and excitement.
“Oh. Sure, that sounds like a good idea.”
“After you,” replied Momo, and you were grateful that she was quick thinking to let him in first to not ruin the surprise.
The door handle jiggled.
The door opened.
Darkness greeted them upon entering.
“I’ll get the light,” said Momo, reaching over.
Click.
“Surprise!”
You and your classmates shouted, catching Noritoshi completely off guard. He had no idea where to look first, his mind not comprehending what was going on as the decorations were throwing him for a loop. His brows were knitted in confusion before a look of realization dawned on his face. You walked over to him and handed him a pin with a ribbon that read “It’s Your Birthday!”, little balloons and confetti adorning the trinket.
“This is for you. All of this. Happy birthday.”
He stood there in silence, an unreadable expression on his face as he studied the pin in his hands like it was a test he didn’t prepare for. All of a sudden, he looked up, his eyes taking the chance to meet everyone’s before landing on yours.
“I… I don’t know what to say. I’m just… surprised.”
“It is a surprise party after all,” joked Momo, nudging him in the shoulder. That made him loosen up a bit, his mouth showing the beginnings of a grin. You decided to step in to take some pressure off Noritoshi since you knew he needed time to process everything.
“Well, I was able gather a bunch of games and made snacks so you all can dig in and have fun!”
Your friends didn’t hesitate, embracing this chance to finally let their guards down for a moment and have a good time. You caught Noritoshi’s gaze and tilted your head to the side, a silent invitation to step outside and talk by yourselves for a second.
“I take it this was all your idea?” he mused when you were alone.
“It was,” you said. “You deserve a day where your existence is celebrated. I hope you’re not mad.”
“Mad?” He took a step toward you, resting his hands on your shoulders. “Y/n, I am anything but mad. How could I be upset at a partner who cares so much for me?”
You let out a sigh you didn’t know you were holding, laughing a little. “Good. I don’t know what I would do if I made you uncomfortable. I would feel absolutely awful.”
“Oh no, I am definitely uncomfortable,” he said, stopping you with a raised hand before you could apologize profusely, “but only because I truly don’t think I deserve all this.”
“Oh, my darling,” you started, conviction lacing every word that left your throat, “the Kamo clan received the most brilliant, kind hearted, strong boy on the day you were born, Noritoshi, don’t ever let them make you forget that. You are so special, even beyond your cursed energy or blood manipulation. You’re clever, I love how you always have a solution to any problem I run into. You’re a great listener and your words bring me so much comfort when I crave them. I know I say this all the time but you have such a good heart. You cherish the people you care about and always put them first. You don’t hesitate to help people in need.”
You gently placed your hands over the top of his own. “I’m glad you were born, Noritoshi Kamo. You’re the light of my life and every day I thank the universe for bringing us together.”
A few tears escaped the sides of Noritoshi’s eyes and he looked embarrassed at his display of emotion. Moving fast, you brushed them away with a delicate swipe of your thumb.
“It’s okay, I cry on my birthday a lot too. It’s a very common occurrence for people,” you said, earning a confused look from the black haired man in front of you.
“Really? People cry on their birthdays and still celebrate year after year?” he asked, still sniffing a bit.
“Yeah. I don’t know why, but it happens. So I assure you, you’re being very normal.” You gave him a teasing grin. “For once.”
He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Way to ruin the heartfelt moment.”
“I can’t have you crying into the cake! It’ll make it soggy. Now, come on, we can’t leave our guests waiting!”
You dragged him back into the common area, your friends relieved that Noritoshi was okay and now smiling. Todo brought over the cake and set it in front of your boyfriend while Momo lit up the candles. When you began to sing “Happy Birthday,” you noticed Noritoshi’s eyes water a bit again but he quickly blinked them away, leaving only joy in his irises.
“Make a wish!” you all exclaimed, catching him off guard.
“This is truly all I could ever want,” he earnestly said.
“That’s so cheesy. Be selfish for once and make a real wish,” chided Mai, only good intentions behind her barbed words. He nodded, looking over every one of you before taking in a big breath and blowing out the candles. Your classmates cheered and you started cutting up the dessert, excited to see if your efforts paid off—they absolutely did. The cake was perfectly moist, the frosting not too sweet. Noritoshi was certainly enjoying it, a subtle smile never leaving his face as he took small bites, savoring the taste. As you took in the scene in front of you, your classmates clearly enjoying their time together, you felt Noritoshi lean in toward you as you ate another bite of cake.
“Thank you. From the bottom of my heart, just… Thank you.”
“You’re absolutely welcome, my birthday boy,” you said, making his cheeks dust with pink at the nickname. He may not have had any good memories of his birthdays in the past, but you hoped from this day forward you could continue making this day one he’d happily remember.
(He kept that birthday ribbon in a box of keepsakes and it made its yearly appearance from then on!)
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