#i had a bad day. i’m scared i can’t make a home on my own. have some projections | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

skeltnwrites · 1 month ago

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The Shape of Family ‧₊˚❀༉

As a single dad, Steve’s world revolves around school drop-offs, bedtime rituals, and tee-ball practices—and he's struggling to keep up. But you're always there, happily lending a hand when he needs it most. / masterlist

part three - you help steve and penelope look for cinderella 11k

a/n - this actually took me ages oh my god. but to those asking about cinderella here you go! CW lost pet (happy ending i promise)

── .✦

The clock hanging in the hall clicks annoyingly loud. Tick, tick, tick, like a bad song stuck in your head. You watch the minute hand cross another line. It hasn’t been adjusted since the time changed last week. Similarly, the calendar below it has yet to be flipped.

It’s November now, but more importantly, it’s Friday. It’s quickly cementing itself as your favorite day of the week. Friday’s mean lunch in Steve’s office and trading weekend plans and hearing about the kind of mischief Penelope’s been up to at home.

But it’s a quarter past eight and Steve hasn’t arrived yet. He’s never been late, or even absent since you started volunteering. It’s odd, but everyone has their days you suppose. Still, a dull twinge blooms in your chest. Working without him might as well be a form of punishment.

Someone had shoved a vacuum in your hands while they try and figure out if he’s coming. It’s boring work, not the kind Steve would give you. And when he has to give you boring work, he at least makes it fun. Turns most things into games or competitions. Like last week, he bet you any candy from the vending machine that he could sort donations faster than you. You bought him a Reeses, of course, but if anyone asks, you let him win on purpose.

You hear Steve before you see him. He’s not loud, but his voice is distinct against any others. By now, you could pick him from a crowd by voice alone. You find him in the threshold between his supervisor's office and the hall. He lingers halfway out, toying with the door handle like he can’t decide if he should go inside.

“Ah, look who finally decided to show up,” you overhear. “Was about to send a search party for you, Harrington.” The man cackles at his own joke, tone devoid of any edge.

Steve laughs strangely. A laugh you aren’t sure you’ve ever heard from him before. He spills a string of apologies for his tardiness, but his boss waves him off and sends him to work.

When he backpedals out of the doorway, you chide, “Tsk. Tsk. You’re late, Harrington.”

Steve spooks easily. He hates to admit it but it makes him an easy target for office pranks which you do take full advantage of now that you’re friends. But you aren’t even trying to scare him this time.

He visibly tenses at your voice, eyes snapping to yours. They’re as intense as you’ve ever seen the lovely shade of brown, yet dulled with the toll of exhaustion. The next thing you notice is his hair. It’s combed back behind his ears and by the looks of it has no product.

“Hey,” he tries, stopping halfway to clear his throat.

As if his appearance isn’t alarming enough, the lack of a comeback is triple worrisome. You try– and fail– to contain your concern. “What happened?”

He deflates in one big sigh. Any attempt at a facade vanished. It’s impossible to lie to you when you look so concerned.

“I’m the worst dad ever,” he declares, skimming your arm as he sidesteps past you.

You catch up to his long stride with practiced eloquence. “Uh-oh. What’d you do?”

“Cinderella’s gone missing.”

“Missing?”

He nods.

“But she’s an outside cat, right? She’s probably, I dunno, chasing birds or slumped over a can of tuna at a neighbor's house.”

Steve bites the inside of his cheek. “It’s been four days. Four. She’s usually around at least once a day, if not, every other. I can’t even remember the last time–”

“Wait, wait. This makes you the worst dad, how exactly?”

He forces his key into the lock of his office door, jostling the handle in frustration. “Because Penelope’s begged me since forever to let her be an inside cat and I always say no. She wouldn’t have got lost if she was inside.”

You flick on the light and hum, understanding more than agreeing. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Steve, but I think you’re exaggerating.”

He plants his bag on the desk and unzips it. “This is serious. She loves that cat more than me, I swear.”

“Okay, first of all, not true. Second of all, this is serious and it sucks but it doesn’t make you a bad dad. You know that right?”

“Besides the point,” he passes you a heavy pile of paper. “Will you help me hang these up?”

You don’t answer because you don’t need to. He already knows you’ll say yes.

Black ink across the top page reads, “MISSING CAT”. There are two patchy images of Cinderella, one of which you’ve never seen and the other underexposed beyond recognition. Steve’s name, phone number, and address are listed at the bottom too. You flick through the stack, finding each version of Cinderella has been coated in a thick layer of brown crayon.

“Penelope insisted on coloring all of them so people know what color she is.”

Steve doesn’t have time for the pity party of a look you show him. If you cry, he’ll cry. And he’s cried enough in the last few days.

You accompany Steve to the bulletin board outside his office. Unspokenly, you accept the very important job of paper-passer while he’s in charge of the stapler.

“Thanks,” he says flatly, thumb catching on yours as he takes the page you’re holding out.

“Don’t worry, Steve. She’ll come home. Cats just like their space sometimes.” You aren’t totally sure if that’s true about cats, but it sounds like the right thing to say.

He mutters something under his breath. Not mean, just doubtful.

It’s unusual to be the one filling the conversation. Steve’s good at talking, a Chatty Cathy as he often calls Penelope. But you try your best to fill his shoes.

“How’s Penelope dealing with it?”

“Awfully.” He chuckles dryly. “She’s on strike for just about everything right now. Refused to go to sleep, refused to eat breakfast, refused to get in the car this morning.”

You nod and hand him another sheet.

“I’d bet by lunch I’ll have to go pick her up. She was hysterical at drop-off.”

“I’m sorry, Steve.” You have a funny urge to tack on something other than his name. Dummy or boss are typical but ill-fitting. And honey or sweetheart would probably cross a line, though, they’re nice to consider.

He sighs, kneading his eye sockets. “I’m sorry. I’m being… I know you’re trying to help.”

“You’re allowed to feel frustrated you know.”

“I know. You’re just– thanks.”

“I’m banning that word from our conversations. You say it too much,” you tease.

He gives you a look, neither happy nor sad. “Cause you’re always helping me, dummy.”

You grin, largely at the nickname.

Every board in the building is covered with posters and every person is notified of Cinderella’s disappearance in half the time it would normally take you and Steve. He’s not in any rush, just in his head. And after that, you dissolve into separate work, never far but still apart.

By noon Steve’s on his third cup of coffee. But no amount of caffeine or sugar will erase the heavy bags under his eyes. Finding Cinderella might be the only cure.

So there’s no debate in your mind when you offer, “I can come over and help look tonight?”

Steve holds a finger up, gaze trained on an address book with his phone clamped between his ear and shoulder. “Hi, Miss Crawford?” He pushes the bridge of his glasses further up his nose. It’s rare that he wears them in front of you. Cute, nonetheless. “Yes, it’s Steve,” he says.

There’s high-pitched rambling on the other end, not clear enough to discern anything other than an old-timey affection for Steve. You aren’t sure of the nature of Steve’s relationship with the woman, but he appears equally fond, even through the somber hues of his story.

She offers no valuable insight as to Cinderella’s whereabouts but promises to keep an eye out, making her… strike seven. Steve’s determined to phone every person he knows and then every local in the phone book in the span of his thirty-minute lunch break. You joked about stealing his office neighbor’s phone to help, but Steve insisted you didn’t.

When he docks the receiver you repeat yourself.

“Sorry. You really don’t have to.”

“I know, but I can… If you want. It’s up to you.”

“I– okay,” he sighs. “Only if you really don’t mind. It would be really helpful honestly.”

“After work then?”

“Uhh, sure. I just have to pick up Penelope when I get off.”

“Sounds good.” You grin and stir your food idly with a fork. It eventually goes cold in your lap. You’re more preoccupied with what you’ll wear tonight and what to bring Penelope to cheer her up. Candy’s probably your best bet. You know she’s already run out of Skittles from Halloween.

Steve’s lips twitch happily as he dials another number.

That’s about the happiest you see him. The rest of the day is a blur, mostly busywork as Steve is consistently ushered away by someone for something not even in his job description. For the first time possibly ever, he leaves on time. And he doesn’t say goodbye. He’s clearly having an awful day so you pretend it doesn’t sting, but the walk to your car is painfully silent.

At home, you change quickly, pop something frozen in the microwave, and retrace your steps back to the car in record time. The drive to Steve’s is unfortunately not very long. It doesn’t give you much time to mull over every possible scenario like your brain desires. But you’ll survive.

It still feels unfamiliar, pulling into his driveway. Less so than the first time, but still. You notice things you hadn’t before. The long crack like lightning in the pavement, the tinkle of a wind chime against the breeze, and the stepping stone with a ‘P’ carved in it. Halloween was the last time you were here. A couple of weeks has never felt like such a lifetime. Steve’s been busy parenting and working late and all. You don’t blame him. Sometimes you wonder how he ever made time for you in the first place with his schedule.

On the front steps, Penelope plucks a weed and adds it to her bouquet. Her cheek is squished against the top of her knee and she’s curled over herself like a pillbug. Brown eyes flick up as you near. One blink, then two. The epitome of indifference.

“Hi, Penelope.”

“Hi,” she says. She sounds uncharacteristically small. And she is small, but her voice is anything but. You know her to be bold, unapologetic. But not today.

You squat, toe to toe with her little Mary Janes, and wave a pack of Skittles. “Look what I brought,” you sing.

The slightest lift of her frown before she restores the pout for good. “For me?”

“All for you.”

She takes the candy and tucks it under her arm.

“Wanna help me look for your dad?”

It’s not a bribe, though her presence does tend to balm your Steve-induced nerves. So you are a little disappointed when she shakes her head. But disappointment wanes into sympathy and sympathy to determination. Determination to help her find Cinderella as soon as possible.

You palm her shoulder as you stand. The front door is ajar, the breeze eating any warmth in the foyer. It’s eerily quiet inside.

“Steve?”

“One second!” he calls back, muffled from upstairs.

The entryway is messier than you remember it. Shoes in a jumbled heap behind the door, Steve’s unzipped backpack slumped against the baseboards, and winter gloves and hats knocked haphazardly onto the tile. You bend to pick up a knit beanie as Steve hurdles down the stairs.

He struggles to squeeze into a raincoat over the thick sweater he wore to work. “Hey,” he smiles softly, gaze sweeping across your clothes. “Thanks for coming.”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Do you want a heavier coat? Radio said it’s supposed to storm tonight.”

“Oh,” you peer down at your denim jacket. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Steve tilts his head, passing you a bundle of crumpled pink cloth. “Give this to Penelope? I’ll grab you one.” He doesn’t allow you to argue before turning around, but he stops halfway up the stairs, leaning over the railing to say, “Tell her to grab her boots too.”

You find the boots in the pile by the door and bring them to Penelope outside. She stares at you helplessly with one shoe halfway on the wrong foot.

“Need help?”

“Yes please.”

You take her ankle and prop her foot against yours. It takes a few tries and lots of wiggling but you slide the boot on and lace the purple strings all the way up. The second round is easier but you still wonder whether kids shoes are supposed to be this difficult.

The door groans behind you and a warm hand cups your shoulder. “Did you eat?” Steve asks. “I can make you something before we go.”

You rise to face him. The sky’s overcast, muting his tan complexion, making him look even more spent than he had earlier. “I ate. But thank you,” you smile, hoping to encourage one back.

He doesn’t but he unfolds the coat he’s carrying, shaking the arms free so it’s easier for you to slip on. “See if this fits.”

It’s not your typical size, but the extra weight is nice. Traces of pine and juniper linger, like it’s been taken on a hike recently. And you’re instantly warmer, a comfort that extends beyond the garment alone.

“Nice,” he nods, taking it upon himself to even out the hood strings for you. His fingernail skips across the zipper teeth and for a second, you think he’ll zip it up too.

“Daddy, are we going now?”

Steve spins on his heel, shuffling for his keys at the door. “Yes, baby. What did we talk about?”

Penelope kicks a load of gravel into the grass. “Ummm, I dunno.”

“No running off. If I can’t see you, we go home. Capeesh?”

When he jogs down the steps to her side, she sighs. “Capeesh.”

“Ready?” He pats her head, “Got your detective hat on?”

She peers up then, a flush of fresh purpose, and nods.

“Alright, Detective. Let’s roll.”

Steve’s yard is embraced by dense woods on every side but the road. He leads you to the tree line where a trail has been carved smooth with frequent use. Bark stretches tall and needle branches weave a canopy of orange above.

“Katie said I need to think more like a cat.” Penelope cranes her head up, “Do you think Cinderella went in the trees?”

“Maybe,” Steve mumbles, focused on jamming his nail under the metal tab of a can of cat food.

“So maybe I should climb up to check?”

“Not these ones, babe. Too tall.”

“But what if she’s in one? Like, a really, really tall one.”

“I think she’d pick a shorter one so she could get down,” you supply. “It would probably hurt her nails going all the way up there too.”

She hums. You drift into a steady rhythm of whistling and calling Cinderella’s name. Penelope waves a toy ball with a little bell inside while you rattle the jar of treats.

Penelope orbits off course slowly and when she hops out of sight Steve calls, “What did I say Nell?”

“No running away!”

He shakes his head at you, “This kid’ll be the death of me, I swear.”

You grin, turning back to him when you spot Penelope. Steve has a lovely side profile. You try to memorize the shape without tripping over any twigs as you walk. “How was she at school?”

“Sad, they said. She cried at nap. Refused to sleep at all.”

You coo.

“But she ate all her lunch, so that’s good.”

You hum in agreement.

Penelope crouches to examine the inside of a log. Her pigtails flip as she tips her head upside down.

“Did you find something?” you ask.

Penelope pulls something dark out, a dopey smile rounding her cheeks. “A slug.”

Steve scrunches his nose but quickly slackens it in a poor attempt to conceal his disgust. Thankfully, you don’t have to be a good actor to fool a four-year-old. “Nice, honey.”

“I think he’s dead.”

“Why don’t you put him back? He’s probably hibernating.”

“Hiding? Why?”

“No, hi-ber-nat-ing. It’s when the animals go to sleep during the winter.”

She squints, “For the whole winter?”

“Yeah, think so.”

“How do they do that?”

“Umm, I don’t know.” Steve glances at you for help but you only shrug. “They just do.”

One of the joys of parenthood you’ve discovered through Penelope is the plethora of questions that you have absolutely no idea how to answer.

Penelope replants the slug in its home, making a point to clarify, “Cinderella wasn’t in there.”

The trail dips steadily downward, covered with a mess of broken branches, scattered pinecones, and crunchy leaves that crackle beneath your feet. Steve’s leading the way, rambling about something or other and you’d swear you’re listening if he asked. But truthfully, your eyes trace the fit of his jeans shamelessly. He has a nice ass, it’s hard not to notice!

Your foot snags on something hard– a root, a branch, you aren’t totally sure– and it all happens so fast. You yelp and pitch forward, knees and hands slamming into the dirt with the full force of your weight.

Steve whirls around and assesses the damage, quickly determines there are no injuries severe enough to warrant a hospital visit, and then he fucking cackles.

You scoff, burying your own amusement as Penelope mimics him. Some example Dad is setting. At least he offers to help you up, Penelope just watches your embarrassment unfold.

“Don’t laugh!” You yank his hand, harsh enough that he stumbles forward onto your toe. “Ow– Steve!”

“That’s what you get!” He hauls you up, grip faltering with each peel of laughter.

You twist around yourself, sweeping your backside. “Do I have leaves on my butt?”

He looks for as long as he deems appropriate which is not very long at all. “Just dirt and a ton of bugs.”

“Shut up,” you smack his bicep.

Penelope points, “That is not nice!”

“Yeah, keep your hands to yourself,” Steve teases.

You trap a retort behind clenched teeth and look to Penelope. “Sorry.”

“Uhh. You’re supposed to apologize to me.”

You skip past him to Penelope’s side. “I’m helping Penelope look right now. Maybe later.”

Steve knows you won’t see it but he hopes you feel him sticking up his middle finger.

Penelope trudges along, the corners of her mouth drawn tight in quiet sadness. She fills the silence before you find the words.

“Do you think she’ll come home?” she asks earnestly.

“I do, Pen. I think she’s probably just hiding.”

“Like hide and seek?”

“Yeah.”

She considers your words carefully. “But why?”

“I dunno. Cats are just silly like that.”

She smiles. “Like dinosaurs?”

You smile back. “Exactly.”

The trees taper off, merging with the cracked sidewalk lining a cul de sac. Penelope’s ponytails are swept off her shoulders as a car whizzes by.

You cuff her smaller fingers in your own just as Steve tells her to hold someone’s hand.

He stops at her other side, surveying the neighborhood. It’s the type you’d imagine families live in. Basketball hoops, sidewalk chalk, bikes thrown against the lawns.

“I’m gonna go talk to some neighbors. Will you hang some posters?” Steve asks you. “We should hurry. I think it’s going to rain soon.”

“Can I go?”

Steve’s eyes trail from Penelope back up to you curiously.

“Yeah, I’ve got her.” You squeeze her hand, reassuring yourself more than anyone.

“Okay. Penelope, be a good listener. Don’t go on the road by yourself. I’ll be just over there.” He points to a house with yellow siding and starts across the road.

You turn Penelope by the shoulders and unzip her bag, taking the stapler in one hand and the stack of paper in the other.

“Can you carry these?” you ask, thrusting the posters toward her.

You straighten out the stapler and pick a sheet off the top before she braces them against her chest. “You know, this reminds me of when we first met.”

“Because I helped you hang up stuff?”

“Mhmm.” You line the page up against a tree, nailing each corner to be sure it sticks.

Eventually, you're passed a different poster, a painting. It’s a charming tangle of shapes and a riot of brown and orange. At the top, "MISSING" is written with two backward S’s in a crooked slope.

“Did you paint this?”

“Yes, at school.”

“Wow. Did you write this too?”

“Yep. My teacher helped me.”

“Very good!” You tack it to a telephone pole and pivot to face her, brimming with pride.

She’s not nearly as happy as you are about it. Her lips thin as she stares at her work and she hesitates before asking,“Do you think we’re bad detectives?”

Your chest aches so sudden and fierce like you’ve been punched. You crouch, rubbing the soft fleece at her elbow. “No. No, honey. We aren’t bad detectives. Detective work just takes time. We have a lot of ground to cover.”

Her frown wobbles, lashes shining. “It’s taking so long,” she whines.

“I know, Pen. Cinderella didn’t leave us many clues, huh?” You swipe a tear before it reaches her mouth. You want to promise her that Cinderella will come home but your gut won’t let you. You don’t know if she really will. “Let’s go check on your Dad. See if the neighbors have seen her. Hmm?”

She nods and you give her your best loving squeeze.

Steve’s halfway up the steps of someone’s porch, mid-conversation with a young woman. Her frown deepens as you and Penelope approach, unlike the baby on her hip who smiles at you.

Steve glances over before continuing. “Well, please call, if you do happen to see her.”

“Absolutely. I hope you find her.”

“Thanks,” he waves, descending the stairs to stand beside you.

“No luck?” you ask, peering up at the clouds. They’re getting moodier by the minute and it’s started to sprinkle.

His hand settles around Penelope’s skull like a claw, he shakes her frown away but not easily. “Not yet. We’ll keep looking.”

Penelope walks a few feet ahead of you and Steve. Every few mailboxes you and Steve stick another poster up. Penelope doesn’t stop to wait, but she’s thorough in her searching, checking under cars and in drain pipes. Enough to even out the distance that grows each turn.

You’re faced away, unclogging the jam in the stapler when Penelope gasps.

“Nell! Wait!” Steve shouts as you turn. By then she’s already halfway up someone’s lawn.

Steve jogs after her and you jog after Steve. Penelope’s made it to the sideyard when you catch up, stretching onto tiptoes and squinting through a rotted hole in the fence.

“Penelope,” Steve sighs.

“I saw her Daddy! She jumped over the fence!”

“Are you sure?” His hand curls over the top of the fence but his eyes can’t reach.

“Yes, I promise! We have to go over!”

He scrapes through his hair, judging the wood planks. They’re at least a head taller than Steve, but there’s a thin lip dividing each in half. If he angles his foot right, he could use it to boost himself over.

He shakes his head. He might've hopped a fence or two as a teenager, but he's grown now. “We have to ask. It’s someone’s yard.”

Penelope wails, yanking his arm repeatedly. “No! Daddy! What if she’s gone? We have to hurry!”

“Just go,” you wave, already backing up toward the house. “I’ll go knock. See if they’re home.”

Steve winces at himself for what he’s about to do. But one glance at Penelope’s worried little face is all the courage he needs. He tests his grip, the sole of a shoe scraping wood for a scary second before catching on the trim. With one leg on either side, he pauses to look at Penelope. “Stay there,” he says, before leaping into the grass.

He scans the backyard. There’s a swing set, a raised garden bed, a kiddie pool, and lots and lots of toys. It reminds him of his own yard. Steve takes a handful of hesitant steps, gaze flicking across each window for any horrified faces. He’s thankful not to see any.

Then, a meow—faint, but unmistakable. His heart lurches, his head whipping up to the nearest tree even faster. His eyes comb through branch after branch, then again when he comes up empty. But a second meow and he’s never been more sure. He wedges his heel into a groove, hugging the trunk for balance. His nails dig uncomfortably into the bark as he pulls himself up.

And there! Right where he swears he looked, a strip of golden-orange fur, blending seamlessly with the leaves… Except, Cinderella isn’t orange, she’s brown. Steve’s shoe slips, sending his chin hard into a thick branch on his way to the ground. The cat hisses equally if not more upset than Steve about the situation. He groans, glaring at the tree as he picks himself up.

“Did you find her? Was it her?” Penelope yells, still peeping through the hole in the fence.

Steve waits until he vaults back over to answer. “No, princess. Not her.”

“Your chin,” you point out, but your words are eaten by Penelope’s shouting.

“It was her! I know it was! I saw!”

“It wasn’t, Nell. Promise. That cat was orange.”

“But it was! I saw her!” Penelope crumbles into hysterics, batting her fists against Steve’s thighs like they’re punching bags.

Steve scoops her up, clamping her arms between their chests.

“Daddy, we have to go back! I saw her!” Several gasps slice through her sentence and tears pour down her face in even streams.

Steve shushes her gently, fanning her hood across her head as it starts to rain. You follow him up to the road and then down the street. Penelope’s relentless, squirming and screaming in his ear. It’s the first of her temper tantrums you’ve seen in person, though you’ve heard plenty about them, and you caught the beginning of one once through the phone. Steve’s more composed than you thought possible, waiting patiently until her sobs have dwindled into teary hiccups to set her down.

“It’s not nice to hit. Even when we’re mad, you know that.”

She glares at him, more serious than you’ve ever seen.

“Are you ready to go home?”

Penelope’s face starts to wilt. She nearly cries again.

“It’s too rainy. We have to go home soon or we’ll get sick.”

“Five more minutes,” she begs.

“Okay.” He buttons her coat up to her chin. “Are you tired?”

She shakes her head, though her eyes say otherwise.

“Do you want me to carry you?”

Penelope thinks long and hard. It’s a trick question. Of course she wants to be carried but God forbid Steve finds out she’s tired.

He picks her up anyway. “You can still look from up here.”

Penelope hooks her chin over his shoulder, cheek tipping to kiss the pad of his jacket. So much worry and too many days of poor sleep etched into each flap of her lashes. She looks utterly exhausted. And she really tries to stay awake– she needs to find Cinderella– but she lost that battle before it even started. The hiss of rain and the warm swing of Steve’s embrace send her straight to dreamland.

Steve feels her arms slacken and slide down his back. He chances a glimpse at you to ask what he already knows but can’t. Not when you’re already watching Penelope with a type of love he believed was his alone to give.

Alarm pulses when he registers the weight of your stare has shifted to him. The same velvet endearment skips across every feature on your face. It’s lovely and adorable but it terrifies the hell out of Steve.

His cheeks burn and he smiles like a madman. He can’t help it. It sticks long after his eyes dart away.

You drift into a comfortable quiet. The spray of rain is like white noise, making even you drowsy. Maybe Steve could carry you back too. It’s an amusing idea, enough to make you grin to yourself. You’re glad he doesn’t notice. He couldn't torture that information out of you.

Halfway home, you hit a particularly steep incline in the forest, slick with the beginning sludge of mud.

“Here,” Steve calls, boosting Penelope higher up his chest before casting his arm at you.

You accept his hand, grateful for more reasons than one, and trace the wet shoeprints he leaves behind with your own. It’s a slow journey. Steve strains with the added weight on his front, but he doesn’t let go of you until you reach the top of the hill.

You cross the threshold back into Steve’s yard as a bout of thunder splits the sky above. Penelope shakes awake and peels herself off Steve. She blinks unhappily, cheeks stamped with red lines mirroring his coat folds.

“It’s okay,” he soothes, fixing her hood after it falls.

“Cinderella,” she whimpers.

“We’ll look again tomorrow.”

She sniffles, voice so frail, hollow with sleep. “No. I–”

Another wave of thunder startles her to panicked tears. Steve picks up the pace to the front door, shuffling through his pocket for the keys. He’s well-versed in unlocking the door one-handed– between groceries, backpacks, Penelope– he always has something to carry. But he’s thankful when you take the keys and do it for him.

You scoot inside last, joining the choir of shoe squealing on the tile.

Steve sets Penelope on the floor and kneels to unlace her boots. She wrestles with her coat zipper until Steve intervenes with much gentler hands.

“We looked really good while you were asleep,” you promise while shedding your own coat.

Her miserable expression doesn’t falter.

Steve smears her tear tracks one cheek at a time. “Stay for a bit? Until the storm passes.”

You bend to collect Penelope’s coat off the floor and hang it next to yours. “Okay,” you say when you realize his words were directed at you.

“I’m gonna give her a quick bath. Do you need anything? Water? Towel?”

“Oh, no. I’m good. Thanks.”

“Okay. We’ll be upstairs. Please, help yourself to whatever. Seriously.”

When Steve disappears from view, you mosey into the living room, searching for something to keep your hands busy. And it’s not hard to find. There’s a pile of laundry that looks like it’s been trampled through more than a few times. Clothes stretch from one end of the couch to the other. You push them into a pile and get comfortable, folding each item with more care than you would your own.

Four neat stacks later and Steve spots you from the stairs. “Please don’t do that,” he says.

You clear your smirk as he nears. “Do what?”

“You know what,” he snatches a sock from your grasp. It’s one of his, longer and duller than the others. “Sorry, I know it’s a mess.”

“You know I don’t care, Steve.”

He gazes down at you in pretend petulance. “Well, I do.” With a dramatic flick of his finger, he sends the sock sailing back into the hamper on the floor.

“If it makes you feel better, I have a pile of clothes covering half my bed right now.”

“Mmm. It doesn’t,” he decides. “But I came down because Penelope’s very kindly requested that you come read to her before she goes to bed. If you want to.”

“Of course I want to.” Your lips bend into a funny little line, happy and curious and doubtful all dressed in one. “She really asked for me?”

“Yeah,” he says in the same cadence he would duh. He offers his palm, drags you up easily. “Why’s that so hard to believe?”

“I dunno.” A toothy smile slips onto your face before you can stop it. But your lips close as soon as you stand, pressed closer to him than you expected to be.

“Sorry,” he chuckles, breaking away. “Come on.”

He seemed nervous– the way he laughed, how his hands retracted like he was burned– but maybe you’re overthinking it. You forget about the interaction by the time you reach Penelope’s room.

Several books are fanned around Penelope where she stands, like fallen petals from the stem of a flower. Her shelf has been mostly stripped. What isn’t on the floor has been scooped into a flimsy stack in her arms.

Steve knocks on the door frame, “Ready?”

Penelope turns and two books slide off the top of her tower. You can’t see her mouth but you can tell by her eyes that there’s a smile behind that copy of Goodnight Moon.

“You can pick three, missy,” he says.

“Five?”

“Four.”

“Four and a half?”

“Three.”

“No,” she giggles, definitely delirious. “Four.”

“Okay.” He kneels at her feet, reshelving unchosen books two or three at a time.

It’s not an easy decision, but Penelope decides on her four and promptly thrusts them into your hands. You follow her to bed where she packs herself against the wall, politely leaving the rest of the twin mattress for you.

“Wait!” she shouts when you open the first book, “The lights!”

“I’m working on it,” Steve grumbles, standing to flip the light switch by the door. The room is swallowed in black apart from the nightlight glowing to life across the room.

Penelope stretches across you to snatch something off her nightstand. A flashlight, you realize, as she clicks the switch. She trains the light on the page and beams at you with equal vibrance.

The first story is the shortest and the second not much longer, but the third takes time. Time you get to notice the heat of her breath as she yawns into your arm and time to appreciate the weight of her head limp against your shoulder.

You don’t have to look up to know Steve is still tidying. Every second counts when you’re a single parent. But you steal a glance in between each page anyway. Find him chucking clothes in the hamper and dumping an armload of stuffed animals onto the foot of the bed. They’ll be kicked to the floor by morning and yet he straightens them up anyhow.

He concludes his rounds by the final pages of the fourth book, taking a seat on the floor just in time to hear you whisper, “The end.”

Penelope bats her dark eyes up at you. She knows you’ll say yes before she even asks. “One more?”

“No,” Steve interjects. “No more tonight, babe.”

“Pleaseee!”

“No, you already hustled me into four. We usually only read two.”

“Pretty please!” she adds, puppy dog eyes bouncing from Steve to you.

Oh the cruelty. To defy Steve or disappoint Penelope. Both are terrible choices but only one of the pair currently has a heartbreaking little pout.

“I’ll read one more really really short book if you promise to go to sleep after?”

Her head bobs eagerly as she kicks the blankets off, springing to her feet.

Steve’s head flops against the sheets, hair like satin ribbons shining from root to end. You consider if it’s as soft as you assume and if you’ll ever have the chance to find out.

“Supposed to be on my side,” he whispers through a gooey grin.

“Am I?”

He tuts, craning up to find Penelope. “Don’t take all of those back out. I just cleaned them up.”

She exchanges the two in her hand for a thick chapter book.

“No ma’am,” Steve says as she turns. “Short one, ‘member?”

Penelope huffs and lugs herself back to the bookcase. She plucks a thinner paperback and uses Steve’s calf as a stool to launch herself back in bed. He doesn’t complain but he pinches her side in revenge.

The book mirrors the length of tonight’s first, yet it takes double the time for your own selfish reasons. You linger on each word, emphasize each sound, and savor every second. Penelope is nestled against your hip as you read the final sentence, sleepy and oblivious that you’ve turned the last page.

Steve pulls himself up to perch on the edge of the bed, mindful not to sit on anyone’s legs. He runs the back of his hand across her face, giving her nose an extra tap. Enough times and it’ll put her to sleep.

“Can you say thanks, Nell? And goodnight.”

She squirms away from his touch, pushing into your thigh. “I don’t wanna go to sleep.”

“Pen, remember our deal.” You squeeze her shoulder gently. “You promised, hmm?”

You swallow the urge to smile when she juts her lip out and frowns. The drama never ends with this one but you love it.

“Goodnight,” you whisper. Your hand glides over the shape of her arm beneath the blanket. “I had fun reading to you.”

She avoids your gaze, picking a loose string from her blanket. If she sees you grinning, she’ll end up grinning too. She can’t have that, she’s protesting. “Night.”

Steve shakes his head dismissively at you, grinning fondly himself. “I’ll be down in a second,” he explains.

You stand, slotting the book back in its home on the shelf and steal one last glimpse of them on your way out. A trail of nightlights guides you to the stairs like beacons. You end up in the kitchen, hands braced on the sink, eyes drifting around the backyard through the window.

There’s a patio with chairs and string lights. In the grass, a trampoline, a sandbox, and a toddler-sized picnic bench, all draped in purple moonlight and sparkling with rain. It’s easy to imagine life here. Birthday parties and cookouts and lazy Sunday afternoons.

The swish of sock against tile knocks you from the fantasy. You locate Steve’s reflection in the glass.

“You better not be doing my dishes.”

Your lips flex instinctually at his voice. “I thought about it.”

He leans back against the counter, hip a hand’s width from yours. Strips of hair sag across his forehead like a botched set of bangs. Your height difference and the angle only accentuate how silly he looks.

“What?” Steve smiles.

You huff through your own. “Nothin’.”

“Why are you laughing then?”

“I’m not. Just…” you reach for his face but the courage fades halfway. You wave obtusely instead. “This hair,” you finish.

He flattens the piece down, then another, combing more and more over his face like a real pair of bangs until the ends graze the ball of his nose. “What? You don’t like it?”

“Oh, it’s awful, Steve. Put it back.”

“I dunno. Thinking of changing it up anyway.”

You shake your head, peeling your eyes away from him. “Stupid.”

Stupidly gorgeous, you decide. He’s a mess, no doubt; rumpled and sweaty, and still, stupidly, impossibly gorgeous.

He rakes his hair back where it belongs, “You’re too good to me, you know.”

“You’re so dramatic.” Your gaze remains on the window but you watch Steve in your peripherals. “I’m the perfect amount of good to you.”

“Well, agree to disagree. But, thank you for coming over to help look. Really I–”

You face him fully then. “Steve, you don’t have to thank me.”

“No, I do. Really, you’re… you’re great and it’s been nice, you know, having help. Even just having company. It hasn't been easy making friends the last few years.”

Your brain stalls at his choice of words. You spout the first thing that comes to mind. “That’s what friends are for, right?” The words sting like acid on your tongue but you smile anyway. You’re pretty sure your heart just split itself in half on the way to the friend zone.

He hums, pushing off the counter toward the fridge. “Let me return the favor, please. I’ll make you whatever you want. Spaghetti, PB ‘n J, uhh, pre-packaged salad?”

“I’m good, Steve. I ate earlier. And you don’t need to return the favor.”

He sets a jar of jelly on the counter. “Your loss. Penelope says I make the best PB ‘n J’s.”

“Oh, I’m sure you do.”

You settle at the kitchen table and watch him work unapologetically. His focus is entirely on a one-sided debate about the perfect peanut butter-to-jelly ratio, leaving him oblivious to your ogling.

He plops down in the chair across from yours when he’s finished. “Sure you don’t want some? You can have half of mine.”

“Steve.”

“Okay,” he sings and takes a bite.

You watch the slow drip of water from the eaves. The rain has subsided enough that you could go, but neither of you suggest it. Your mind is elsewhere. Stuck on friends.

“Hello? Anybody home?” Steve chuckles when you blink back to reality. “Did you hear me? I was–”

The trill of the phone interrupts.

“I’m holding my thought. Don’t go anywhere.” Steve abandons his sandwich and crosses the room, pulling the phone from the counter. “Hello?... Uh-huh… Yes, yes.”

The sudden shift in his tone catches your attention. He sounds borderline ecstatic.

“Okay. I’ll be right over. Thank you!”

“Who was it?” you ask.

He snaps the receiver back into place. “A neighbor saw her just now.”

“Really?”

“Yes! Well, they’re pretty sure it’s her. It sounded like her, how they described. Are you able to stay here while I go check? I don’t wanna wake Penelope up.”

You don’t even think about it when you insist, “Of course. Go!”

“I’ll be right back. Thank you!” He squeezes your shoulder and jogs out of the kitchen. The sound of jangling keys fades with the closing of the front door and before you’ve processed it, you’re alone in Steve’s house.

It’s a strange thing, being in Steve’s house without Steve. You’re not technically alone, Penelope is still tucked in bed upstairs, of course. But the silence is thick, suffocating even. So you’re admittedly glad when you hear tiny footsteps from upstairs.

On the bottom step, Penelope freezes and her hand tightens around the railing, not expecting you to be there. “Where’s Daddy?” she mewls at you, bottom lip quivering against her words.

“It’s okay. He went out to look some more, that’s all.”

“I want Daddy,” she whines, breath hitching in between words.

“He’ll be right back, sweetheart. I promise.”

A sob wracks her chest, tears escaping as she scrunches her eyes. Sniffles cut through a mush of sounds, woven between them, she pleads, “When?”

“Oh, honey. Come here.” You hoist her up against your chest instinctually. It feels like the right thing to do, and it must be– her arms wind underneath yours like puzzle pieces. “Real soon,” you reassure.

You hope so anyway. Half for Penelope’s sake and half for yours. You’re afraid to overstep, to parent her in a way Steve wouldn’t approve of. You feel the echoes of his constant self-doubt in your own mind. But you’ll try your best until he returns.

Penelope’s not heavy, but it is the first time you’ve carried another human down a set of stairs. It’s a slow descent with lots of maneuvering and readjusting limbs so you can see the steps ahead but she doesn’t seem to mind. By the time you make it to the sectional, your arms burn. Still, you’d do it ten times over just so she doesn’t have to walk herself.

She sweeps her runny nose across your sleeve and her knee digs uncomfortably into your ribcage but you can’t find it in yourself to mind. She feels safe enough with you to do so. It’s a compliment more than anything. And the weight of her head against you is a type of soothing you don’t think you’ll ever get used to.

Your fingertips trace the shape of her shoulder blades through her nightgown. “Did you have a bad dream?” you whisper.

She draws similar lazy patterns on your arm, pausing to hum yes.

You hum back. “‘M sorry, Pen. Wanna talk about it? Might help.”

She shakes her head, the slightest movement against your collar.

“Okay, I got you. Don’t have to worry,” you whisper and pat her head. “I won’t let any more bad dreams get in here.”

Steve’s gone long enough to fuel your nerves and keep your mind buzzing, though your eyes beg for the sweet release of sleep. Penelope’s not helping, like a warm, weighted blanket on your chest. She’s barely awake herself when he arrives, but you’re surprised she’s awake at all. You aren’t sure what time it is but it’s definitely late.

Two clicks from the front door’s lock and a Steve-shaped shadow slides inside. He’s being particularly quiet, like when tries to sneak up on you at the rec center. Like a ninja, he always says.

Penelope’s head shoots up to peer over the couch. “Daddy?”

Steve stops in his tracks, but his head snaps in your direction. When his eyes confirm his ears he starts toward the couch, waiting until he can sit to coo, “Hey, baby. Hey.” A hand scoops a piece of hair behind her ear. “What are you doing up sleepyhead?”

Penelope splinters off of your chest but remains situated on your thighs. She offers several half-lidded blinks to Steve. “You didn’t find her?”

He melts like her eyes are made of sunbeams, reaching up to thumb sleep from under her lashes. “No, baby. Someone thought they did but it wasn’t her. I went to make sure.”

“Oh,” she says, not sad, just tired. Penelope slowly leans over to him like a bridge, wrapping her arms around his neck as he tows her into his lap.

He looks at you then. A long look. An expression you're having a hard time untangling. His eyes flutter back down when Penelope yawns. “Have to go to bed, okay?” he whispers into her crown, planting a kiss while he’s there.

“I wanna sleep in your room.”

“That’s fine but I’m not laying down yet. You still have to go to sleep.”

She nods against his chin.

“I’ll carry you up. Can you say goodnight?”

Penelope turns so you can see one side of her face, the other glued to Steve’s sweater.

“Goodnight,” you wave and smile softly.

She only shudders out a sigh but manners aren’t on Steve’s mind, especially when he knows you wouldn’t care about that. His knees crack as he stands, hiking her up higher before he heads upstairs.

You yank a blanket from the arm of the couch, missing the warmth Penelope lent you. It’s a risky move when you’re already fighting to keep your eyes open.

But Steve’s back before you have time to fall asleep. He’s trampling down the steps with a confidence that Penelope’s out for good this time. And he flops onto the couch with the same heaviness, sighing like you’ve never heard. Pure frustration. It’s understandable. But odd off his lips.

“You okay?” you ask, the same syrupy sweetness you’d used with Penelope.

He turns to face you and he looks awfully sad. The rainwater clinging to the ends of his hair doesn’t help. But he nods anyway because he’s Steve. “It was a stupid raccoon.”

“You’re kidding? They thought it was a cat?”

“I should’ve known,” he scrubs his face. “Practically senile that lady.”

“You’ll find her, Steve.”

He takes a deep breath and swallows. “I don’t know anymore. I’m really starting to think worst-case scenarios.”

You press your lips into a firm line. It’s a possibility you don’t want to consider. “Why don’t I go look a little longer? I’m off–”

“No, please,” he leans over to cradle the shell of your knee. “You’ve helped all night. I mean this in the nicest way possible, you look exhausted.”

“Way to treat a guest, Harrington,” you smirk, peeling his pointer finger off your leg to hook it under your own.

He squeezes your finger like a trigger, shifting focus between your hands and face. “Go home, rest, please.”

“You sure?”

“Hundred percent. Rain’s let up so the drive shouldn’t be too bad.”

“Promise you’ll get some rest too?”

He smiles despite the pang in his chest and the ache behind his eyes. You're the first to show him this kind of care in years. “I will. I promise.” He releases your finger, binding your pinky with his instead.

There’s something unreal about the way you smile back at him. Like you’ve entranced him with a spell. Steve believes in a lot of things– superpowers, demogorgans, parallel dimensions– but this is the first time he’s ever believed in pinky promise magic.

He shakes his head, “Come on.”

You take his hand, groaning in sync as he helps you up.

In the foyer, Steve unhooks the coat he’d lent you earlier. “Here.” And before you can contend, he adds, “Keep it. It’s an extra. I don’t need it.”

You let him guide your arms into the sleeves. And the same deliriousness possesses you to spring in for a hug after. “It’ll be okay, Steve,” you murmur, lips skimming the embroidered design across his chest.

He deflates for half a second before reciprocating. “I know,” he says. “Thank you.”

You wait until he softens to pull away and open the door.

The wind whips and howls blowing a wave of mist onto the other end of the porch. Steve scans the yard, then the road, both slick with rain. He asks himself if it’s a good enough reason to ask you to stay. But he decides it isn’t, not yet, at least.

“Call me when you get home?”

A wild smile splits your lips. “Okay,” you blink stupidly, too tired to care.

“Careful!” he shouts as you run to your car. Steve leans against the doorframe, loitering until your headlights flash his house and your car rolls out of the driveway.

It’s only sprinkling but streetlights are scarce near Steve’s place so you turn your high beams on, highlighting lawns on either side of the road. You drive slowly, inspecting one yard, then the one opposite, hopeful that Cinderella’s still out there.

There’s a stop sign at the end of Steve’s street. A landmark you know to make a left at. But you decide to go right. I wanted to take the scenic route, you’ll say if Steve asks. You drive that road and the one beside it and another beside that.

And it’s only a few turns away when you spot something sort of cat-shaped laid at the end of a driveway.

“Please do not be a raccoon,” you mumble, squinting as you inch the car closer. The longer you look the more it makes sense– two ears, a wavy tail, it’s definitely a cat. “No way.”

You put the car in park across from the house and study it. It bats its tail against the concrete, staring lazily back at your car. There’s just no way, not after all that looking. You find her after what, ten minutes of driving? It just can’t be her.

You push your door open gingerly, slipping onto the asphalt one foot at a time. The cat perks up, ears twitching with each crunch under your shoes. You slink over slowly, crouching into an uncomfortable crab walk when she stands. Brown coat, no collar, just as she’s been described to you. But it’s hard to say. You’ve only seen one picture of her and it was out of focus. There’s no way to really know it’s her.

Honking a few streets away slices the silence and your focus in one go. You flinch back a step which spooks the cat. She scampers up the driveway, weaving underneath a car to the other end of the yard.

You stick as low to the ground as you can while skipping after her. You’d guess you look ridiculous, but at least Steve isn’t here to see. The car blocks the view and you lose her by the time you reach the other side. But there’s a swirl of shrubbery, good for hiding probably. You blindly grapple for branches, blinking rapidly, slowly adjusting to the growing darkness the farther you move from your car’s headlights.

And then the porch light flickers on, spotlighting you digging through a random person’s bushes.

“Shit.” You freeze, hand choking a wreath of leaves, embarrassment flaring hot and red through your entire body. A minute passes, then two. Everything’s still. No cat, no angry homeowners, no police cars. You decide it’s safe. Must’ve been an automatic light. You hope, anyway.

Upon further inspection, the bushes are empty, and from what you can see the porch is too. There are a few trees but it’s difficult to make out any cats through the dark web of branches. A sudden gust of wind shakes a handful of leaves loose. Your eyes track them across the yard as they tumble back toward the driveway. And there’s the damn cat, sitting on the roof of the car like it was there the whole time.

“You better not set that alarm off, dude,” you grumble.

She narrows her eyes and growls as you draw closer. Cinderella is irritable– this makes sense. Or it’s a totally random feral cat who is about to claw your eyes out.

You’re within touching distance when you realize you have no plan. She very likely could claw your eyes out or give you rabies or something else awful. But you're in it now. You’re gonna get Penelope her cat back. So you shrug Steve’s coat off cautiously, eyes never leaving the cats. It’s raining again, you realize as it starts pelting your neck, trickling like ice down your shirt. But that’s the least of your worries right now.

“Nice kitty,” you whisper, unfolding the jacket.

She hisses as you lean in but before she can pounce or swipe you throw the jacket over her and scoop her off her feet. She goes stiff and growls low and throaty.

You speed walk to your car, toeing the cracked door open and maneuvering carefully into your seat. The jacket peels open as you shut the door. She sees an opportunity and takes it, nosing her way through the hole and under your elbow. There’s a shine of teeth as she bats your face, dragging a sharp set of claws against your cheek.

“No, no– shit! I swear if you don’t,” you argue, cramming her arms back in the fabric one at a time, tucking and tightening until she’s secure.

She huffs through her nose, glaring menacingly at you from her swaddle.

“Cinderella– if you’re even Cinderella– which you better be! You’re being a real jerk right now.”

She growls in response. Steve wasn’t lying about her attitude.

You shift the car into gear one-handed and forgo a seatbelt. It’s a short ride and you’ve maxed out your risk-taking meter for the night. While it really is a short drive, it goes dreadfully slow. You’re cold and wet and you feel like you are driving with a bomb strapped to your chest.

Getting out of the car is just as easy, as in not easy at all, as getting in. But you make it to Steve’s porch, surging the cat further up your chest so there are no last-minute getaways. You tap gently on the door with your toe, hoping not to disturb Penelope.

The instant the door opens, you squeeze by Steve and release the cat onto the floor. She scampers ahead a few feet before stopping to turn around. “Tell me this is the right cat and I didn’t just kidnap some other kid’s pet.”

He shoves the door closed. “Oh my God! Where the hell did you find her?”

You exhale with one big slump of your shoulders, all the worry bleeding away. “Like, five minutes down the road. Just hanging out in someone’s driveway.”

Steve gawks, crouching and coaxing her closer with an open palm.

She considers his invitation before striding into his touch.

He strokes her from head to tail and back. “I can’t believe you. I was about to make funeral arrangements.”

Cinderella chirps happily.

Steve twists to look up at you. For a second you think he might cry. Or kiss you.

He promptly stands and cups your jaw and your stomach tumbles because he might actually kiss you. But he aims your cheek against the light instead and whispers, “You’re bleeding.”

“Oh,” you tap around your cheek blindly, “It’s just a scratch.”

“Here. Come here.”

You follow him to the bathroom where he pulls a towel from the closet and drapes it around your shoulders like a shawl.

“You’re wet,” he says like you don’t already know.

You tug the fraying ends taut across your chest and watch him dig through the medicine cabinet. “If only someone let me borrow their coat.”

“If only,” he snickers, dumping the contents of the first aid kit in the sink. “I’m sorry Cinderella beat you up. She really has no manners.” He strips the plastic cover off a Barbie-themed bandaid and lines it up with your scratch, pressing, and smoothing it over your skin gingerly.

“How hideous do I look? Scale of one to ten.”

He shakes his head, smiling at you like an idiot. You make him smile like it’s your only job. And it sends his heart flying every time. He feels out of control around you. He hates feeling that way but somehow you make it easy.

“You could never be hideous.” Steve chuckles, still in disbelief. “You're amazing.”

Any cold lingering on your face evaporates. “Don’t go soft on me, Harrington,” you tease.

Maybe it’s the adrenaline buzz of chasing Cinderella or the high of successfully catching her, but you feel like you could do anything. Like you could say anything to him. Your eyes trickle down to his lips. He’s close enough to kiss. Every nerve in your body dares you to do it. You don’t think he’d reject you. Maybe he’d even meet you halfway.

A high-pitched scream severs the moment.

Steve jerks away, alarmed and then quickly amused. “Penelope,” he grins.

And right on cue, Penelope whizzes by the open door, squeals ricocheting down the hall. She chases Cinderella, who does not look happy to be chased, but Steve allows it.

“Daddy! Cinderella’s back! Look!” She clips her shoulder on the stair post before disappearing into the kitchen

He turns to you, beaming. He hopes you understand how amazing you are. He’d happily tell you again and again.

Penelope races out, heaving through a smile with the jar of treats. She sprays the entire contents of it across the floor. Steve can’t even be mad. In fact, it’s the happiest he’s been all week.

She lies down on her back, eyes skipping between you and Steve. “How did she get here?”

“I saw her on my way home. She was just a few streets away.”

“Wow. She’s really good at hide and seek,” Penelope decides.

Cinderella prances over, using Penelope’s belly as a personal vault. Penelope splays her hand out, patting and petting to her heart's content as Cinderella munches on the treats.

Steve squats, cupping a handful of them back into the jar.

“No, Daddy! It’s her prize.”

“Her prize will make her sick if she eats it all.”

“Okay. I guess.” She giggles as Cinderella pushes a treat with her paw.

Steve squeezes her knee where it wiggles, raising his eyebrows, “What do you say?”

Penelope turns to you with a wicked grin. She practically screams, “Thank you!”

“You're very welcome.”

Penelope pushes herself up and cocks her head. “Will you stay and play with us?”

It’s entirely innocent and equally adorable. You appreciate Steve for being the bad guy.

“Nuh-uh. You’re supposed to be in bed,” he reminds her.

She whines and shoots him a mean look. But it doesn’t last. Cinderella is back. That’s all she really cares about right now.

“You can play with Cinderella in the morning.” His eyes flicker between the two like they’re made of gold. “Maybe she’ll even sleep in your room.”

Penelope’s eyes and mouth widen into three little O’s. “Really!”

“Yes. She can stay inside from now on. But! You have to train her, be a good cat mom to her.”

“I will, I will,” she nods so relentlessly her head might pop off. “I promise I’ll be the bestest cat mom ever in the whole entire world!”

Steve chuckles, gaze dancing over to you. He looks at you like you’re made of gold too. That’s an intense realization.

“I should head home,” you say.

Steve nods, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face.

“Bye, Penelope! Bye, Cinderella!”

Penelope shackles Cinderella’s arm and forces her into a rigid wave. “Bye-bye!”

Steve follows you out to the front porch, snapping the door shut when Cinderella trots after him.

“Good luck keeping her inside.”

“Yeah,” he shakes his head, hand dropping from the door handle. “I’m sure she’ll escape by morning.”

Your gaze sweeps across the lawn. It’s only drizzling now, almost unnoticeably through the overcast veil of moonlight.

“Oh, here,” you tug one end of the towel until it slides off your neck.

Steve accepts it tentatively, “Maybe you should keep it. Case she gets out again.”

“Yeah, guess I’d need something to catch her with, huh?”

His teeth seem to glow in the moonlight when he smiles. He slings the towel back over your head and smooths it across your shoulders. “I know I’ve said this like a million times today,” he trails off, rubbing the fabric up and down your arms. “But I’m gonna say it again.” He looks up, dreadfully serious. Your eyes lock like magnets, like he’s specially polarized yours to stay tethered to his. “First of all, thank you for everything, seriously.”

“It’s no problem, Steve, really.”

“I know, I just,” his attention drifts away, tension seeping in through the silence. “I think you’re like the coolest person ever.”

You shake your head and shift your weight from one foot to the other, desperately trying to shake out the scary feeling in your gut.

A warm hand clasps yours. “I mean it. You’re so amazing and are just a super genuine person and– and I care a lot about you.”

Your pulse hammers so hard you wonder if he can hear it. The icy bite of rain clinging to your clothes turns hot. Hot enough to boil every drop of it off your skin.

“I dunno, it’s just really hard to make friends as a single parent. You’ve been so kind. And I really appreciate that.”

Your heart aches. Your eyes sting. That awful feeling triples. Friends, how could you forget?

He drops your hand, knotting his own fingers together instead. Watching you, waiting for a response.

You smile, brittle but convincing enough that he smiles back. “Well, that’s really sweet. I’m happy to help. And, for the record, I think you’re super cool too.” You punch his shoulder playfully. Because that’s what friends do.

“Phew, that’s a relief. Was starting to think you were getting sick of us.”

You smile genuinely then. You don’t think it’s possible to ever get sick of them. “Ehh, I’m still warming up to Cinderella but Penelope’s my favorite, no offense.”

“No, she’s pretty cool.” He nods, pausing to think. “You can come over tomorrow– if you aren’t busy. If you want to. We’ll probably go buy some cat stuff. I dunno, it’s cool if you can’t.”

“I’d love to, Steve.”

He laughs in soft little layers. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

“See you then.”

“See ya.”

You spin on your heel, scurrying down the porch steps faster than you probably should. Forget the rain, Steve’s what you're running from. His laugh and his dopey smile and his overly kind words. You’re too young to die of a heart attack, but surely your heart won’t last much more of this.

When you tug the handle of your car door, he yells, “Don’t forget to call me!”

You bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling and flash him a thumbs-up before getting in. He’s such an idiot. Probably waking his neighbors up yelling like that. It’s probably unhealthy, the amount of emotions you’ve just experienced in the span of a few minutes.

But already all you can think about is tomorrow. It seems like lightyears away, but you’d wait lightyears for Steve– even for just friends Steve– silly as it sounds.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x you #steve harrington #steve harrington angst #stranger things #stranger things fic #tsof #skeltnwrites #the shape of family #dad steve harrington

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bleedingoptimism · 2 years ago

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The night of the events of Starcourt, Steve lies about his parents being home because he doesn't want to impose on anyone else. So he says his parents are waiting for him back home and Joyce drops him off to get some rest.

Steve gets home and immediately realizes it's a horrible idea, he's concussed, confused, alone, scared, and in pain.

He panics and ends up walking through the woods alone where Wayne finds him when he's getting home from work.

Wayne freaks out over the injured sailor boy that looks like he hasn't slept in days and who is confused about how he got there.

He convinces Steve to come in for coffee, but when they get inside Steve starts looking around fascinated by every little trinket. he ends up in Eddie's room,

"Where am I?" he wonders and even through the questions and fears it makes Wayne chuckle,

"This is my nephew's room" He answers looking at Steve walk around with stars in his eyes at the mess.

"He must be really cool," he tells Wayne.

Wayne nods and smirks but then Steve catches his own reflection in the mirror,

"is that me? Jesus no wonder you look so worried, I look like shit"

And he says something that breaks Wayne's heart a little, "I'm sorry," and he looks so sad too, and so honest like he really thinks him not looking okay is a problem for Wayne. Like Wayne would get mad at him for not being 'presentable'.

"I should leave," Steve says.

Wayne raises his arms in mock surrender,

"Woah, no kid, it's fine, you don't look that bad, I was only worried because you look tired. When was the last time you slept?"

Steve thinks for a while and frowns, "I don't remember..."

"Why don't you rest here in this cool room," Wayne asks him with a kind smile, "and then will get that coffee, ok?"

Steve agrees and falls asleep the second his head hits the pillow.

Wayne sighs and leaves the room, he sits on the couch and sees on the tv the news about the fire.

It's an explanation, not the whole truth but it's something. Clearly, Steve was there but that doesn't explain the bruises, the confusion, the fear. He feels like something else might be going on.

And why on gods earth was that kid all alone?

Eventually, he falls asleep too.

So when Eddie gets home from spending the night at Jeff's after a gig, he finds his uncle sleeping on the couch and doesn't find it weird at all, he tiptoes to his room for a change of clothes and there he finds the fucking former king of hawkings wearing the skimpiest sailor uniform sleeping on his bed, and for a second he thinks 'is it my birthday?' but then Steve turns in his sleep and Eddie sees his face and thinks 'shit'

He is instantly worried, no matter how much he dislikes jocks, no one deserves to be brutalized like that.

And to ruin that beautiful face? A crime.

Once more he tiptoes into the hallway and goes where his uncle is slowly waking up. He gets close, real close so when Wayne opens his eyes the first thing he sees is Eddie blinking at him.

Wayne jumps a little and bites back a curse, "Jesus kid!"

Eddie chuckles, "Sorry, Wayne. Might telling me about the little sailor in my bed?"

Wayne sighs and tells him.

When Steve wakes up a bit later is to the sound of Eddie's acoustic. He's sitting in his desk chair, plucking a sweet and soft melody,

"Morning goldilocks," he tells him with a smile.

Steve, who had a bunch of excuses and apologies lined up already frowns, and inclines his head, "Goldilocks?"

"I found you sleeping in my bed, didn't I?" Eddie answers sweetly.

Steve blushes, he can't help it, and once more instead of getting up and leaving he gets distracted by Eddie's whole deal.

"I'm not even blond" he argues.

Eddie bows his head at him, as if to say he got him there, but then says,

"You have locks of hair that look golden in the sun, goldilocks"

Steve really hopes the bruises cover his blush, he really, really hopes. But judging from Eddie's smile, he can't tell it's not the case.

"I should leave," he says moving slowly to the edge of the bed.

Eddie places his guitar on the desk and turns to fully look at him, "You don't have to. If you don't want to," he points to something on the bottom of the bed, "Look, clean clothes and my fluffiest towel, why don't you take a shower and then we drink that coffee my uncle promised?"

And Steve’s heart hurts with how much he wants that. He doesn't want to be alone, he wants to stay here with the kind wonderful man he met last night and Eddie, who played guitar for him while he slept and thinks his hair is golden, but still...

"Are you sure? I don't want to impose"

Eddie snorts and mouthes 'impose' to himself before leaning closer and looking Steve in the eyes,

"I'm sure, Goldie. Go, shower. I'll go put the kettle on"

And steve can't do much more than nod and smile shyly at him.

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #wayne munson #i wrote something

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darnell-la · 4 months ago

Note

Could you write something Logan x reader where she uses a safe word? Like usually she is fine and enjoys the rougher play but for whatever reason she is overwhelmed or gets scared. Maybe she is embarrassed or feels bad for it because she doesn’t want him to blame himself or something

note: our most active author's birthday was yesterday, so we’ve been pretty busy. we apologize for the gap in our posting but trust me, we have a lot of posts coming. stay tuned!

btw, I gave you guys a lil tease at the end…

———

Today has been a long day of teaching for y/n. She hoped to come home and rest, but Logan also had a bad day. Usually, when he does, he needs to kiss, feel, or be in y/n to relax.

“I’ve missed you all day. Damn kids always pushin’ my buttons,” Logan spoke low in the crook of y/n’s neck as his hips slowly moved.

“You just take all of my stress away, baby. Love you so much,” Logan growled, now snapping his hips. He loved the feeling of her growing wet underneath him. He loved her so much.

Y/n let out a small and soft moan, enjoying the pleasure, but she still felt off. She hadn’t told Logan she wanted a break today, because the man looked more stressed than usual.

“You sound so beautiful, baby. Can’t get enough,” the man rolled his hips in the right spot, getting him close to his climax.

As he was thrusting, he realized y/n hadn’t come yet. “C’mon, baby. Cum on me. Wanna feel you,” the ma buried his face into her neck to bite down a bit, just how she liked it, but right now, she felt off.

“Fuck, baby, c’mon! C’mon!” The man growled, snapping his hips at a fast and hard pace. “L-Logan,” y/n stuttered, feeling the pleasure but more pain since her body was working against her.

“Yes, baby, that’s it. That’s it!” Logan placed one hand next to Y/n’s head and used the other to grip her waist, pulling her body into his thrust.

“S-Stop,” y/n begged low, not knowing if she should stop the man, or let him relax. “Ssh, baby — So fuckin’ close,” the man said as his cock twitched in her.

Y/n tried keeping herself together, knowing this would only last several more thrusts, but her eyes began to tear.

“R-Red,” y/n said low, instantly, making Logan slow his hips down. “Red!” Y/n cried out. Logan quickly pulled out of y/n and pushed himself off of the bed.

Logan went to speak, but he cut himself off after seeing y/n curl up on their shared bed. He was afraid he did something wrong. He didn’t know if he should comfort her or stay back.

“Bub?” Logan asked, voice soft so he wouldn’t alarm her. “Baby? A-Are you okay?” He asked as he slowly crawled on the bed to look over her curled body.

“Y-Yes, I just need time,” Y/n said, shutting her eyes tighter in embarrassment. How could she stop her own husband as he got closer to finishing, just because she had a bad day at work.

“O-Okay, sweetheart, just- I’m here if you need anything, okay?” He asked as y/n slowly turned around. “No, no, don’t leave. I-I didn’t mean it,” Y/n said as she rubbed her tears away.

“Just a bad day at work. It’s nothing serious, so we can continue-“ Logan cut her off before she could continue. “Nah uh, we’ll continue tomorrow. Let’s just relax for right now, okay?” He said as she went to pull y/n down to lay with him, but she refused.

“No, no, I’m fine! I swear, we can keep going. I-It’s not that serious-“ Before she could continue again, he got her off. “It is serious if you’re shouting safe words, y/n,” Logan said.

Y/n stayed silent at his tone, not knowing how to respond.

“Baby, if you’re not down to make love, you gotta tell me. I see you every day, almost all day. I can take a little break to just lay and look into your pretty eyes,” Logan sat up and rubbed y/n’s wet cheek.

“I know, it’s just-“ y/n was cut off again. “No! No, I don’t want to hear it. C’mere and lay down, before I get upset. Mhmkay?” The man said as he laid back again, waiting for her to do the same, and so she did.

“I’m not relaxed unless you are, princess. Need my baby fully in the mood when I touch her. No exceptions. No matter how much I need to taste you,”

“But, I want you to finish,” y/n said, looking up at the man who she knew needed to release. “Baby, don’t worry about me. I can live until tomorrow or whenever you feel better,” the man said, but it was hard to ignore his hard-on against her body as they lay together.

“C-Can I watch you? I just don’t feel like doing anything, you know? But I can watch you,” she said, feeling a bit awkward, but she couldn’t lie and say she didn’t want to satisfy her man a little tonight.

“Baby, I think you should rest-“ This time, before he could dish, y/n cut him off. “Please, baby? You were so close,” Y/n said as she dragged her hand up his long and thick shaft.

“Fuck,” the man breathed out, feeling his coco twitch instantly. He was painfully hard and leaking out of his tip worse than she’d ever seen before. If he didn’t cum now, he would’ve been in his sleep.

“Fine, but don’t touch me anymore, baby. Feels too good, and I want you to rest,” Logan said as he removed her hand and replaced it with his own.

Logan began fishing his cock slowly, stroking her leftover wetness on his cock to make his hand glide smoother.

“Mhm hm,” Logan tried holding his moan in, feeling a bit off that he was the only one moaning, but when he looked to the side to see y/n’s eyes lust over him storming himself, he let them out.

“Fuck, baby — Not even touchin’ me and I feel like I’m goin’ crazy for you,” Logan said in between his grunts. Y/n placed a hand on his lower stomach, teasing him even after he said to now to uh her anymore.

“What did I say, princess? D-Don’t touch me. Just relax,” he said, but she ignored him and slightly scratched at his skin. “Augh fuck,” the man let out, hips fucking upwards as he felt himself near.

Logan’s feet curled, as his legs pointed in-word, letting y/n know he was right there. “That’s it, baby,” Y/n said, and that was it for Logan.

Logan groaned loudly, fist staying in place as his grip tightened around himself. Cum shot out of him and painted all over his thighs, abs, chest, and y/n’s hands and arms.

Y/n talked the man through his high, trying something new as she stroked his face. Logan accepted it all, softly placing his hand on her hand as he shook and caught his breath.

Logan never knew someone could make him feel this crazy with minimal touch. He’s fallen harder than he was before.

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pedroscurls · 2 months ago

Note

The reader and Hugh are in bed in the morning and the reader has to get up for work but Hugh doesn't want her to leave so pulls her back in bed in a big bear hug and she calls In sick 😉

bad influence (one-shot)

summary: already running late for work, hugh convinces you to call in sick. pairing: hugh jackman x fem!reader tags / warnings: fluff, brief suggestive sexual content (18+), no use of y/n word count: 913 a/n: to the anon who sent this in - i'm so sorry it took me a while to post this! hope you enjoy regardless. and as always, this is purely fictional! i mean no disrespect to hugh jackman.

You awake with a jolt, glancing at the clock and realizing that you’ve slept through your alarm. You glance over to the man next to you who’s stirring awake at your sudden movements. He’s lying on his back, shirtless with an arm behind his head as his eyes slowly begin to flutter open.

“Oh my god, I’m going to be late!” you exclaim, trying to scramble out of bed and bringing the sheet with you. Last night had been amazing and you hadn’t expected to spend the night with Hugh. It had only been your third date with him, but throughout the night, there had been a lingering tension of what the night would bring.

When he invited you back to his place after dinner, you were excited to accept. To be able to spend uninterrupted time with him behind closed doors without worrying about someone asking for a picture or an autograph was something you were looking forward to. You had both been sitting on the couch – you with your glass of wine and him with his – before the effects of alcohol coursed through your veins and gave you the courage to straddle his lap.

He had looked up at you in surprise, but with an excited look in his eyes. Hugh had immediately rested his hands on your hips and groaned to himself when you pressed yourself further into him. He wanted to be a gentleman, wanted to be respectful of you and your boundaries, but the more time he spent with you, the more he found it difficult to keep the pent up frustration to himself. His hand could only do so much and he was finding that he needed more relief. He needed you.

So, when you agreed to come over to his place, Hugh was excited. Not only because of what could happen, but because he was starting to like you more and more with each date. He didn’t want to scare you away, but you had promised him that his lifestyle wouldn’t deter you from pursuing a relationship with him. And it was true. When fans came up to him, you gave him the space and distance he needed but also went so far as to offer to take the picture for the fans; you knew how important Hugh’s fans were to him.

When the paparazzi would follow him, you’d be right there by his side, just as polite and kind as he was. He knew that not many people could fit into his life, especially after the success of Deadpool & Wolverine, but you managed to fit in so well – like you had always belonged by his side.

And last night… Well last night was amazing. Falling asleep with you in his arms had lulled him to a deep slumber and it had been a very long time since he had a good night’s rest. Hugh had convinced you to just spend the night, that he’d wake up early today to make sure you leave on time for work, but he was just too comfortable. Too relaxed with you by his side that he had slept through his own alarm too.

When he hears you mumble under your breath, followed by your sudden movements, Hugh slowly opens his eyes. He sees you from the corner of his eyes lifting the sheet above your chest, covering yourself. He grins to himself, having remembered that you both had fallen asleep naked.

“What are you doing?” he whispers, the hand behind his head reaching out to gently rest on your lower back as you sit up.

“I’m going to be late for work, Hugh,” you answer. “I should be at home, already on the way to leave and–”

“Take the day off,” Hugh interjects, eyes gazing up at you. “Spend it with me.”

“Hugh, I can’t. I have a big project that I need to get done.”

“Will it be done today?” Hugh asks.

“Well, no, but–”

“Then at least you’ll have something you can do tomorrow.” Hugh smirks.

You shake your head and go to climb out of his large bed before his arm snakes around your waist to pull you back into bed. He turns on his side and pulls your body flush against him as your back rests against his chest.

“Hugh…” you whisper, feeling his naked body press against you from behind. You can feel his lower half begin to harden, begin to stir awake at the close proximity.

“Call in sick, baby,” he mumbles, lips lowering to pepper soft kisses along the back of your bare shoulder. Hugh’s hand slowly dips lower past your abdomen, inching closer and closer to the place between your legs.

“You’re a bad influence,” you whimper, rolling back into him as your hand reaches down to grip his wrist.

Hugh grins against you, leaning up to gently nibble at your earlobe. “I’ll take as much time with you as I can get, baby. Now, let me have my breakfast, yeah?”

You’re about to ask him what he means before he moves to hover above you, lowering himself further and further down the bed until he disappears underneath the sheets. You feel his breath against the inside of your leg and when he licks a stripe up the center of your sex, your back arches and you reach down to grip onto his hair.

“God, good morning to me,” you whisper, eyes falling shut as you let out a quiet moan.

---

forever taglist: @haytchee @wolverigrl

#hugh jackman #hugh jackman requests #hugh jackman fanfiction #hugh jackman fanfic #real person fiction #rpf #hugh jackman x fem!reader #hugh jackman x reader #story: bad influence

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sanakiras · 4 months ago

Text

TIDAL WAVE OF LOVE

PAIRING — choi seungcheol x reader

WORD COUNT — 1.3k

SYNOPSIS — even the strongest of people break sometimes. you’re used to hiding your feelings; your boyfriend is there for you when everything gets too much.

TAGS — angst, self-esteem issues, fear of failure, mc has a bit of a breakdown :(( but also a lil comfort

NOTE — cleaning out the drafts! this is wayyyy shorter than my usual works but i still felt like posting it <3 i had a very stressful semester in uni before the summer break and i came across this video on twt of coups giving wonwoo a little comforting squeeze which i found very endearing sooo that kinda became the inspo for this!

the moment he calls out a greeting to you from his kitchen, you close your eyes for a moment. it would’ve probably been wiser to have gone home instead of his place.

you greet him the same way, hoping he doesn’t hear the crack in your voice.

“how was your day?” he asks you once he’s returned to the living room, giving you a kiss.

you press your lips together. “fine. nothing special.”

the first thing he notices is the lack of eye contact you make with him. you’re also being considerably less touchy with him than usual, which he finds strange.

“everything okay?”

“yeah.” you put up a smile that doesn’t appear genuine in the slightest.

he figures you could just be in a bad mood — but that doesn’t seem to be the case.

he knows for a fact that it’s not with the way you’re trying real hard to hide your face from him. you only do that when you’re upset about something.

“baby, talk to me.”

“about what?”

the response comes out snappier than you meant it to. you two have been together quite a while — so he’s come to know that you tend to get a little colder and distant before the dam breaks.

you look at him so briefly to the point where he’d miss the motion if he blinked. the expression equals a silent apology.

of course he always does his best to give you whatever space you need. that being said, he’s also come to know you get into your own head a lot, and sometimes there’s someone who needs to pull you out of it.

you bite your lip in a pathetic attempt to hold back your tears. “it’s fine, cheol, just let it go.”

“well, i care about you, sweetheart. what’s going on?” he’s persistent but gentle about it. you have a habit of keeping your feelings to yourself and hardly ever letting anything out, which leads to everything just piling up and making things worse.

“i don’t wanna talk about it.”

the lump in your throat begins to rise.

“i can see that, but you’ve clearly got something you need off your chest. are you okay?”

you don’t show anyone when something’s wrong unless they mention it first. and even when they do, you’re hesitant.

it’s an exhausting way to live, but you still choose to do so.

it’s one of the reasons why you hate crying. your glossy eyes always betray you.

then you make — what you consider to be — the mistake of looking into his big, worried eyes once more, and you just completely fall apart in front of him.

the tears begin to flow before you can even comprehend it.

“it’s just—god, i don’t even know why i’m so fucking emotional, i just—” your breath shudders, the mildly angry expression that was previously on your face now nowhere to be found, “everything’s been so stressful recently, and i’m scared i won’t pass my classes, and i feel like such a slow learner compared to everyone else—”

he’s rubbing your back, just allowing you to you let everything out. he keeps quiet.

“i feel fucking fragile. and weak. every little thing is just too much right now. i’m sorry, i feel stupid.”

he lets you cry into his chest as his arms are wrapped around you, one hand softly rubbing the back of your head. “don’t feel stupid, baby. you can vent to me, always.”

the sound of your heavy sobs hurt him, because he feels like you’re always so hard on yourself, but he’s glad you’re releasing them. it’s healthier to let it all out than to keep it in.

“it’s just like i can’t breathe, y’know?” you mutter in the crook of his neck, subconsciously wetting his shirt with your tears, “i can’t take a single break ‘cause i’ll fall behind. i’m so tired. i feel like i’m not even smart enough to take the damn course, let alone pass the fucking test—”

once he feels like you’re about to start hyperventilating, he moves back to let him look at you. “long breaths. you’re okay, just breathe with me.”

he purposefully takes long, deep breaths, counting the seconds out loud to guide you, and it works. your breathing is steadying bit by bit, sobs faltering, melting into soft hiccups and numbness.

with dried tears and a slightly hoarse voice, you let out a sigh. “i just hate feeling so incompetent. for once, i’d love to feel smart. i wanna feel like i’m able to keep up as well as everyone else does, y’know? i’m… i’m procrastinating everything and i don’t know how to change it. it all sucks.”

“it’s not easy, baby. don’t be too hard on yourself.” he presses a swift kiss to your skin, and you hold him tighter, as if he were to slip out of your hold if you didn’t.

“it’s not easy for me. it is for them.”

“there’s nothing wrong with that. would you think differently if someone in your class had to put more effort into passing the course? you wouldn’t, right? because at the end of the day, you both make it to the finish line. that’s what matters.”

deep down, you know he has a point. you put the pressure so high on yourself, yet don’t apply the same logic to your peers.

you don’t really understand why.

“and you say it’s easy for them, but i know for sure that they put more effort into it than you might think. trust me. you’ll get to where you want to be, one way or another. if you take a little longer to do that than a classmate, who cares. it’s your life. i know you’ve worked so hard—” he twirls a strand of your hair between his fingers, “even if you don’t pass that class now, it won’t be the end of the world, and there’ll be another chance. you’ll get there.”

now there’s just a few last tears running down your cheeks. “except i’m worried that i won’t.”

“you will. and once you do, you’ll be happy that you got to that point because you worked hard and deserve that success. if not today, then tomorrow. yeah?”

you take a deep breath, exhaling slowly, the last shudders of your breakdown bubbling to the surface as your heart rate finally slows back to normal. “yeah. thank you.”

to show your gratitude, you give him a hug, which he happily embraces, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“anytime. i’m here for you.”

even the strongest of people break — but they can still pick up the pieces and start over.

do your best (but maybe not sometimes) <3

® SANAKIRAS — do not repost, remake or copy my work in any way whatsoever. translations are not allowed.

#choi seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #svt x reader #svthub #seungcheol x reader #scoups fanfic #scoups angst #scoups fluff #choi seungcheol fanfic #choi seungcheol ff #seventeen x reader #seventeen fanfic #svt ff #svt oneshot #svt angst #svt fluff

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luvyeni · 1 year ago

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❛A BOY AND HIS DOLLS❜ ( s. jaeyun )

p. yandere!jake x fem!reader w. 1.7+

warnings? dark fic, yandere themes, kidnapping, dollification, blood, unprotected sex

— 𖦹 ( jake owns a lot of dolls, but you’re the prettiest of them all and he can’t let you go ) !

freaktober masterlist

jake opened the door to his house , it was quiet – he took his shoes off , making his way to his favorite room , his doll room. “hi my pretty dolls.” he opened the door , walking into the room full of glass porcelain dolls. “did you all have a good day?”

he turned to the bed were all his prettiest dolls sat in perfect place. “how about you girls , did you have a good day?” he smiled , looking at his favorite doll in the world , none of these doll could compare to his favorite doll – none of them could compare to you. “answer me doll.”

you nodded , your heart pounding , hoping he didn’t notice anything. “i had a great day jake.” he touched your hair , tilting his head. “your hair is all messed up doll.” he said yanking your hair back. “how could that happen if i keep my precious doll all tied up in her room?” you whimpered. “i-i don’t know what you mean.” he chuckled , letting you go.

“oh you don’t?” he said picking up a glass doll , turning to you before throwing it to the ground , you shrieked as it hit the floor , the glass shattering. “j-jake.” you were terrified , he picked up another one , repeating. “you see that doll , those are cameras.” he then proceeded to pick up different dolls , throwing them to the floor , glass shattering everywhere – he laughed manically , as you sat there shaking in fear.

“the first time it was a mistake , i thought I tied you tightly after your breakfast.” he explained. “i has only realized when i was at work , luckily i didn’t forget to lock the door , it was so cute watching you wiggle your way out the ropes , only to be defeated by the door.” he sat down on the bed , a big sharp piece of glass in his hand – which was bleeding due to how hard he was clutching it.

“you know i love playing games with my dolls , so i deciding to keep leaving the ropes untied , then i kept the door unlocked to your room , each and every-time you tired to make an escape.” he was heavily breathing , his sinister smile turned into a angry face. “i-i’m sorry jake.” you sobbed , scared of what he might do.

“oh are you?” he climbed on to the bed , holding the glass against your neck. “i give you everything.” he pressed it harder against your skin. “p-please.” you cried out , he laughed. “you’re so pretty when you cry , my pretty doll.” the blood from his hand , dripping down on to your dress. “your dress is all messed up now.”

he climbed off of you , standing above you. “you can get yourself out can’t you , show me doll , show me how you did it.” you shakily undid the ties , your wrist red from rubbing against them. he held the glass in his other hand , climbing back on the bed , grabbing your face with his bloody hand , smearing his blood all over your face. “you’re my prettiest doll , you know that right.” he squeezed your cheeks.

“y-yes.” you said through your puffed up lips. “that’s right , i don’t care about these other dolls , they were just to past the time until i found the prettiest doll on the market.” he said. “i finally found it , the prettiest doll on the market , i buy her all the things she wants , all the prettiest dresses , buy her yummy food , keep her nice and warm in a beautiful house.” he gripped harder. “and all she has to do is sit pretty here and wait for me to come home to play and she can’t even do that.”

“i-it hurts.” you cried , he frown. “does it , that’s how my heart feels , it hurts so bad that you tried to leave me.” he said , his voice almost a whimper. “is it my fault am i not treating my doll right?” he said tears coming down his face , letting your face go. “does my doll not want to play with me anymore?” he started to sob , his emotions giving you whiplash , he was good at this , good at making you feel bad.

“should i kill myself?” he said , you shook your head. “n-no please.” you begged , you hated that you still cared for him , he was crazy , but he was still the jake you met all those years ago plus the door was locked and you wouldn’t be able to get out , you’d be stuck with his body . “p-please i-i’m i’ll stay okay , i’ll stay and play with you alright.”

you slowly reached for his hand. “please just drop the glass , see you’re hurting yourself.” you put your hand on top of his , he slowly dropping the glass. “you’ll stay and play with me?” you nodded. “i’ll stay and we can play whatever you want.” he weakly smiled , his hand coming back up to your face , caressing it. “m-my pretty doll.” he pulled your face close to his , kissing you.

he shoved his tongue down your throat , moving your body until he was on top of you , unzipping the side zipper , he pulled away spit connecting you both making you whimper. “j-jake.” he sat you up , taking the dress off of you , your skin still covered in little blotches from your last “playtime” with the boy. “so pretty.” he lifted your hips , pulling the skirt all the way off , placing on the chair beside the bed.

he kissed down your stomach , nipping at your skin , you jolted. “ah!” he shushed you. “let me play with my doll how i want.” he grabbed the side of you your baby blue underwear , pulling them down your legs , spreading your legs. “so wet , my doll has the perfect pussy.” he kissed your thighs , you moaned. “so perfect.” he kissed your clit , before licking a stripe up your cunt.

“j-jake fu-fuck.” he pulled away , slapping your thighs. “my doll doesn’t curse.” you apologized , he slapped your thighs again , before diving back into your clit. “oh my god.” you bit your lip , as messily eating your cunt.

your eyes shut tightly , stomach churning with pleasure , but also disgust with yourself , you were supposed to hate him , he kept you hostage , he was mentally unstable , but you couldn’t help but grab his hair , grinding against face. "j-jake , please im gonna cum." your legs closed around his head , as you came on his tongue , he pulled away. “that’s it.” he rubbed you clit , overstimulating you. “give me what i want doll.”

once he was done toying with your clit , he grabbed your hands , caging them above your head , undoing his pants , pulling his cock out. “gonna fill my pretty doll up.” his cock kissing your hole. “f-fuck.” he groaned , pushing into your cunt. “so fucking tight.” he moved his hips. “perfect little cunt.”

“j-jake oh my god!” you shrieked as he began to sped up , his hips slamming against yours. “that’s it , scream for me doll.” he groaned , letting your hands go , grabbing your hip , ramming into your cunt. “my doll , your mines.” he groaned , throwing his head back. “mines to keep and dress and play with.” he rubbed your clit. “i’ll kill myself before i let you go.”

“j-jake i’m gonna cum!” you screamed , grabbing the sheets , back arching. “cum for me my pretty doll.” your eyes rolled to the back of your head , cumming. “jake!” he fucked you through your orgasm , “fuck baby doll , i’m gonna cum , gonna fill you up with my cum.” he grunted. “get you pregnant than you can never leave me.” he cursed , warmth spreading through your body as his cum filled you up.

he laid flat on top of you for a while , before pulling out , his cum seeping out of you. “let’s get you dressed.” he picked you up , sitting you on the sink , turning the water on , waiting for it to get hot. he put you into the tub , washing your body and your hair – leaving you , with the door open so he could watch you , so that he could clean the sheets and sweep up the glass from the broken dolls.

he returned back to the bathroom , helping you out , drying you off and your hair before carrying you back to your bed , sitting you down. “i picked out some pretty pajamas for my doll.” he lathered your body in his favorite scented lotion , putting his favorite baby pink panties on. “see pretty.” he pulled out a matching shirt baby pink night gown. “let’s do your hair.” he brushed your hair , putting two braids in , along with two bows to keep them from unraveling. “now you’re perfect again.”

he made your food , feeding it to you , while telling you about his day , his hand now covered in a bandage. “it’s time for bed now.” he said. “normally we’d watch tv , but i don’t think that’s a good idea tonight , maybe tomorrow.” he laid down next to you , wrapping his arms around you. “my doll , i love you so much , you love me too right?” you nodded. “tell me then , tell me you love me.” you reached up , moving his hair from his face. “i-i love you.” you stuttered , scared of making him upset , but also cause you couldn’t help but love him when he was like this , when he was soft with you , like the jake you used to know. he kissed your temples , snuggling into your neck.

“my pretty pretty doll , you’ll never leave me.”

©LUVYENI

#kpop x reader #kpop smut #enhypen ff #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen x female reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen smut #enhypen hard thoughts #jake sim fanfic #jake sim smut #jake sim imagines #jake sim x reader #jake sim hard thoughts #jake sim hard hours #jake sim scenarios

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kiss-me-muchoo · 2 months ago

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𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐲 || 𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

part one: valley of the dolls || part two: here

summary_ where coriolanus snow wants to win you again after recovering from Dr. Gaul’s experiments, but ends up threatening you to marry him or he’ll reveal your darkest secret, just because you were his.

warnings_ NO PROOFREAD, dubcon, oral (f receiving), dark!coriolanus, angst, fluff (well…), drama

notes_happy halloween, listen to my Coriolanus’ playlist, it’s so bad I promise you’ll hate it.

♪ ♫ Coryo playlist ✰ Index (+ fics here)

Reflections were a light of truth. Whether you liked it or not. There are no more tears to shed, you think you’ve run out of them.

“You need to put down that mirror…” your father said.

He had grown a little colder after ascending to work closely with the government. Burt you know you’ll always be his little girl. Just like you would always love him.

“I can’t stop. My skin itches, I feel like I’m burning…” you reply, looking. At yourself.

Your skin was literally shredding. As if liquid glue had been poured all over your body. Now was dry, peeling itself off. The worst parts were in your face, ribs, and thighs.

“You have visits…” your eyes almost pop out.

“What?”

“Just Clemensia…”

“I thought I said no visits until I was allowed to leave the hospital.”

“I don’t think she’ll judge you, y/n”

It was true. You were horrified when Clemensia appeared full of neon scaled and yellow eyes to wake you up and Coriolanus at the hospital.

“Fine. Let her come in…” your father nodded, kissing your forehead before leaving.

You went to look at your reflection a little more. The dry peeling skin was turning dark, creating an odd contrast with your new rosy layer.

The sound of the door made you startled, but when you turned, you spotted Clemensia already inside.

She inspects your face once she’s inches away from you. She even touches your skin.

“You look great. I’d give it a couple of days. Amazing…” You can’t resist but embrace her, which she accepts.

“It’s been two months and everyone keeps talking about you. I suspected the reason, so I patiently waited” she says, taking a seat beside you in the hospital bed. You half laugh, putting away the mirror.

“How are you?

“Good? Not? I don’t know. I don’t even know what happened” you reply.

“I guess if I was close to turning into a giant python, you were very close to turning into a mermaid” You find the humor in her words, so you laugh with her.

What was left to do either way? You thought.

“When I woke up, I had fish scales and I couldn’t stop drinking water…” Clemensia nodded. She was almost clear from the scales. Her eyes were normal again. She looked good.

“Just like I couldn’t stop my tongue from making odd sounds and movements…”

Both of you remain quiet for a little while. Until Clemensia opens her mouth and then shuts it, debating whether to speak up or not.

You already know what she’s wondering.

“Say it, Clemmie.” She sighs, surrendering to her curiosity.

“What happened with Coriolanus?…”

“He exposed me for suggesting he cheat in the games. He didn’t tell me anything the last time I saw him. It was in the Citadel, he was coming out from Dr. Gaul’s office and I was about to come in...”

You scratch your own hands for comfort. Clinging to confidence to disguise your anxiety.

“Coriolanus would never hurt you…”

“Oh Clemmie, I haven’t seen him in two months but I’m pretty sure the schoolboy we knew is completely gone. When I entered that lab, I was forced to lay in a bed and wait for hundreds of needles to attack me. And the moment I opened my eyes was a week ago…” your friend looks at you with pity, but you can’t feel bad for that.

“My mother brought me the news. Coriolanus left to the districts, he was exiled and paid to go and follow his songbird to the most filthy district.”

“Maybe he got scared. Perhaps he didn’t know Gaul was going to punish you…”

“He discovered I was sick because he called home a month after he left. A month, Clemmie. Neither one of the Snows worried for me. When I considered part of my family.” tears prick in your eyes but you can’t cry.

“He said I was important, he kissed me when he won the games. Dear lord, we promised to split the prize if one of us won. I love Coriolanus Snow, he was my best friend. I kissed him again and told him I’d see him at home the last time I saw him… All for nothing.”

Clemensia holds you tightly once again, this time brushing your dry and unhealthy hair.

“It’s going to be okay, y/n. You didn’t do anything wrong, you can rest knowing you are a good and decent person” You nod, swallowing the resentment towards that man.

“While I prepare to come back, Clemmie… Please start destroying him for me.” She smiles, caressing your hand.

“A man who chooses district over his capitol family is a coward”

…

Rumors were spread faster than disease in the Middle Ages. Coriolanus Snow was a renowned man. He let the rumors run like water. He followed Lucy Gray Baird to the districts for love. Didn’t work out, the girl was accused of murder and ran away, leaving him.

Everyone knew Coriolanus Snow had broken your heart. And that you remained confined in a hospital room. Infectious virus was the alleged reason.

When he received a call from Dr.Gaul, he internally cheered. She kept her promise of moving you to a hospital, and finally, your parents could see you. Coriolanus would be lying if he said he didn’t care about you anymore.

In fact, returning to the Capitol reminded him how lonely he actually was. Even worse when he learned Festus, Lysistrata, Clemensia and

were giving him the cold shoulder for abandoning you. Apparently, the girl he considered one of his closest friends visited you at the hospital and you spilled your side of the story. Coriolanus couldn’t blame you. He wasn’t expecting anything from you yet.

Trying to find a reason to keep his mind occupied other than attending university was to wisely make the first spend with the Plinth’s fortune. Coriolanus decided to refurbish the penthouse. And when he tried to offer a hand to your parents to do the same, he was shocked to learn it wasn’t necessary anymore.

It was a long night of talking. Your father had ascended to position quickly and now worked as part of President Ravinstill’s cabinet. Your mother had opened her own atelier in the Capitol’s downtown. When he was allowed to visit your room, Coriolanus noticed the wallpapers that looked faded and peeling now looked fresh. Your feathers lamp was long gone. It was replaced with an exotic flower look alike chandelier.

But his picture remained in your family pictures in your new bookshelves. And that’s when the guilt sank in.

The need to be okay with you grew. He remembered having an ally.

When he asked for you, your father revealed with sad but hopeful eyes that your skin was peeling, that your only cold showers felt good, but that you smiled for them.

Coriolanus got chills at the memory of you in that water tank. He supposed your process was similar to Clemensia and the snake bite.

As a man as well, your father didn’t completely blame him for growing confused about you and Lucy Gray.

He was urged to make amends with you. Tigris said it, grandma’am too. Clemensia and your parents said it too.

So he would.

…

Fixing your gloves, you look out your window. The Corso looked even more luxurious and elegant with the pink morning sky. But soon your eyes betray you, landing in your pictures. You immediately grab Coriolanus’ portrait, ready to take the paper stuck under the glass and tear it. But you don’t, you only put the picture looking down.

His memory kept haunting you. After all, he was still your neighbor.

You learned after a few more visits from Clemensia that Sejanus was dead. You sobbed so much. Sejanus was a good friend and his need to be something else killed him. Actually, Coriolanus killed him but you would never know that.

Only that his death led to the Plinths making Coriolanus their heir. That he was studying bureaucratic law and having private lessons with Dr. Gaul.

Traitor, traitor, traitor. He was even accepting classes from the woman who almost killed you.

In social matters, Coriolanus was courting Livia Cardew and you actually laughed.

Your best friend was truly gone. But you were back and you didn’t want to be overcome by the pain he put you through.

You were more than a curated girl with a broken heart that appeared in the newspapers. You were the daughter of a successful man and the daughter of the most famous designer of the capital.

And you weren’t going to start your comeback with the wrong foot.

Dr. Gaul probably wasn’t expecting to release an experiment only to return to a human body with regenerated DNA. The dry skin was replaced by a shiny and healthy new layer. Your hair grew again, longer than ever and you felt healthy overall.

The moment you stepped out of the trolley station, you slowly started to feel some heads turn your way.

The click of your heels soothed you as you made your way through the long marble stairs of the Capitol’s University. The feeling of unwanted attention grew when you went to the main office to pick up your schedule.

The secretary handed you the paper and as you read through it, someone tapped on your shoulder. You turned and it was a surprise to encounter one friend.

“Festus!…” you hug him, immediately feeling happy to see him.

“I heard you were back. Lysistrata and I split to find you. I guess I won…” he said, making you chuckle.

“You look great”

“You too. We’ve heard the craziest rumors about you and we literally spent the whole summer wondering what had actually happened” you sigh.

You wanted everyone to know what happened to you. That Gaul was a monster. That Coriolanus was a traitor. But it wasn’t the most viable. But he was your friend, you could trust him.

“What did Clemensia tell you?” You asked him, walking out of the office, and starting your way through the long halls.

“Not much. Only that Coriolanus was the biggest idiot,” he admitted.

And hearing that name out loud puts you on alert. He could appear anytime soon. And to be honest you weren’t prepared to encounter him. But you were confident that ignoring his existence would be easy.

“Well, Festus, let’s find her and Lysistrata. We have a lot to talk about…”

…

By the end of the day, everyone has your name on their lips. You spot Livia gossiping with Persephone, Iphigenia, Urban, and Androcles, the little bunch of the Academy that always made fun of you and Coriolanus for being so close.

You can’t help but remember that Coriolanus had started some sort of courtship with the mean blonde. You guess it’s because they turned out to be pretty much alike.

Overall, it hadn’t been as bad as you thought it was going to be. The hope of becoming a senator one day was still strong as the first day of classes for you turned out to be good.

You clench the zipper of your bag that hangs on your shoulder, ready to leave campus and call it a day.

It was particularly empty a few hours before the night, but there were a few still walking around. Your breathing had found a peaceful pace to follow until your eyes localized the nearest exit.

Entering there was a man, whose curls had disappeared into perfectly slicked hair, whose suit seemed to be impeccable and luxurious, whose bright loving eyes had turned into cold oceans, and whose warm smile had transformed into a frivolous expression.

Coriolanus Snow entered the hall, he hadn’t seen you, but you knew he would.

And you could have turned and walked all over campus to find another exit. But you wouldn’t.

Not when there are people already connecting dots with your presence and his in the same place.

With a big sigh, you focused your eyes on the door, in the falling sky that was preparing a sunset. You wouldn’t meet any face in the place just to avoid him. And as much as you tried to ignore the shivers, you could feel your hands shaking.

He saw you when he had you close enough to notice your red eyeshadow. He had already mastered the technique of hiding his feelings and expressions. But seeing you had erased any trace of practice. He let an inaudible gasp and almost stopped walking.

You looked very healthy in comparison to what he had heard. The scales he had seen were completely gone. Your eyes sparkled naturally and your hair looked very peculiar.

But any hope of interacting with you died the moment you passed by his side. Almost brushing your shoulders and you ignored him completely.

You had humiliated him. So he turned and started walking behind you. And the farther you moved, the more his anxiety started growing. He hadn’t even noticed he had followed you to the trolley station.

You heard him calling your name. But you ignored him. Your body relaxed as soon as the doors closed and the university disappeared from your sight.

Tears formed in your eyes, and you had to shut your eyes so harshly to avoid them from spilling.

…

It had turned into a cat-and-mouse game. You were almost running towards your apartment. Coriolanus knew your parents were working, so he had no problem chasing you to the door of your home.

“You won’t be able to run away every time, y/n… We need to talk” he said, knowing you could hear him through the other side of the door.

“I don’t want to talk with you” you replied, taking off your scarf and heels. Ignoring the way your heart still lounged for him it decreased its beats whenever you saw him talking with Livia on campus.

“You’re gonna listen to me one of these days”

“Go home, Coriolanus. Live your life and forget about me” he felt the pain in your words. And for some reason, it also hurt him.

“I can’t…” he whispered, hearing your footsteps walking away from the door.

With his obsessive nature flowing through him, he opened the door of the penthouse and was greeted by Tigris.

“Did you talk with her?” Coriolanus shook his head, and Tigris sighed.

“The other day I saw her at the market and she was so cold. I felt so sad when she said we acted like we didn’t care for her…” Coriolanus sighed at her words.

He wasn’t expecting you to encounter him with a big kiss like the one you gave him the last time he saw you. But he was getting impatient. He quickly understood that you weren’t jealous of Livia and if you actually were, you were brilliant at hiding it.

He learned that you were extremely hurt by him and his family. And he had to accept it was indeed his fault. You were the only reason he actually regretted things and wanted to say sorry.

He missed his best friend. Without you, he realized he was slowly becoming his father.

…

Of course, your mother would invite the Snows for dinner.

“Why would you do that?” You ask, polishing each fork and knife on the table, already feeling angry.

“I just want you and Coriolanus to be friends again, y/n. He’s such a good boy and he’s growing into a fine man…” you frown, leaning over a chair, facing your mother.

“He chose a filthy bohemian singer from the districts over me. That says everything about Coriolanus, mother…”

The woman also stops polishing the table utensils to look at you.

“He was just a kid, like you. We were struggling and he wanted power just like we all want… Focus on the man he is turning into, not the boy he was…” she says leaving.

“That’s exactly the problem…” you whisper.

You didn’t like the man he was turning into.

But you have to swallow your thoughts as soon as you hear voices from other than your parents. You sigh, knowing he has arrived. And it wasn’t like you wanted to impress him, but you wanted to show him that you were doing fine without him, that he hadn’t broken your heart, and that you didn’t care about him like you used to.

Coriolanus had just given your mother a hug when he saw you entering the room. To his eyes, you looked perfectly pretty.

You had an emerald dress with black tights and heels, your hair in an elegant bun, and some curls peeking over across your face. But your face was so serious. You barely glanced at him and Tigris when you greeted them. You only blink when Tigris mentions the Grandma’am was sick and couldn’t be at the dinner. Everyone noticed your awkward demeanor and your mother tried to break the ice.

“Coriolanus! Why don’t you and y/n go to check the oven?” You don’t oppose, you simply nod and leave without waiting for him to follow. But you can look over the corner of your eye at the fabric of his suit, dark grey, and his usual white rose on top of his heart. You couldn’t help but miss his curls, even when his new haircut made him mature and older.

Coriolanus saw you put on some kitchen gloves and he hurried to help.

“Let me check it…”

“I can do it myself, thanks” you reply coldly.

“Are you ever going to talk to me like a decent human?”

“Oh, I’m decent, very much compared to you. I need time, I have to put my thoughts in order” You were being honest.

“I won’t be waiting forever” he didn’t mean to sound so harsh but that’s the way he ended up sounding.

“Then you don’t really care about my forgiveness” he is about to protest, but you have moved away and taken out a giant turkey that must’ve been heavy enough to draw a sigh out of you. The whole interaction made him feel like an idiot. So he went to your side again.

“I miss you” he reveals, cringing at the sound of him being so vulnerable.

“You shouldn’t, you’re courting Livia Cardew”

“That’s not what it seems”

“I really don’t care, Coriolanus” you lied.

You start serving good portions and he has to start putting them on the table. He can hear your parents laughing with Tigris and he wishes everything was fine. Just like it was a couple of months ago. He really could see himself joking along with you, kissing you while you served the dinner, and being happy. Unfortunately, that’s not the case.

“For now, the only I want you to know is that it was never my intention to hurt you. If I could’ve avoided all the pain, I would’ve, y/n” you harshly crash the knife against one of the porcelain plates, closing your eyes to calm your sudden anger.

“If you hadn’t mentioned my name to Gaul, if you hadn’t kissed me the day you won the games if you had called the day you left the Capitol, you would’ve avoided a lot of my pain. But you didn’t… Because you care more about yourself than for the two of us as equals, Snow”

He unconsciously unlocked many unpleasant memories. So many things you would never know. But when he got onto something, he didn’t stop until he could feel like a winner.

“I won’t let go of the person that was there for me when I had nothing. No matter what it takes…” you eyed him, overcoming your fear watching him at the eye and you fulminate him, with a look of defiance that he also senses.

Coriolanus lets you pass by him and he watches you disappear into the dining table.

A couple of hours later, your father has taken away Coriolanus to drink in his office. Coriolanus is amazed by all the things the old man has achieved. He admired and respected your father. So he didn’t take too long to notice your father was drunk. He has started telling him what happened when his grandfather lived in District 1 and he visited him.

“Then our baby was born there. That house must be ashes from the war but every time I look at it in pictures, it makes me feel like it’s still there…” Coriolanus almost dropped his glass.

“So y/n was born in District 1?” Your father nods, finishing a second bottle of posca. Coriolanus had never liked to drink and he took it as an advantage most of the time.

“Let me find the birth certificate…” you father said.

To Coriolanus, this was shocking. When your father took out an envelope, he handed him the certificate. You had two names and two last names. Born a later winter baby and with a tiny imprint of your feet. His fingers traced your name.

“This is probably our biggest secret, Coriolanus. But you’re family, we trust you, boy” said your father patting his shoulder.

Coriolanus smiled, tracing your second name once again. Then turned to see you talking with Tigris outside.

Things kept getting in his favor since we came back to the Capitol.

You felt his eyes but you ignored him, focusing on an uncomfortable Tigris that wanted to talk to you.

“Me and Grandma’am asked for you a couple of days after Coryo left. That’s when we learned you were sick. I swear we asked every week, but your parents got very busy and we barely saw them. Then we had to move out because of the rent payments. It was hard…”

You analyze her burgundy lipstick and you know she’s telling the truth.

“Do you know the asshole your cousin was?” She nods.

“I do. He saw you when Dr. Gaul had you in her laboratory. Coryo was scared, he looked shocked and he knew you wouldn’t forgive him. But I told him to be a man and apologize”

“I miss the boy he was… I miss my best friend” you admit, biting your tongue because you should’ve kept that to yourself.

“I’m afraid the districts changed him… he reminds me of…”

“His father” you finish for her.

Sadly, she nods to you.

“Grandma’am keeps asking Coryo when will you be back. He always tells her he’s trying to win you back” She changes the subject, attempting to make you smile.

But you only reply with a little chuckle and a sad smile.

…

For the next two weeks, you have been drained from any sense of certainty. You have Coriolanus Snow waiting at your door every morning, insisting to walk you to university because he knew you hated having chauffeurs, the Capitol wasn’t big enough to depend on a vehicle. It was a walkable city and you loved taking the trolley. So he had been punctual and he had walked you every single day.

You barely talked and he hated that. Until two days ago when Coriolanus made you smile. He noticed you tried to hide it but it had been late. Your smile filled him with pride and he got even more obsessed with winning you back.

The luck hadn’t run out of him, because that afternoon your mother knocked on his door to invite him and his family to the release party of her new winter collection.

The invitation made Tigris extremely happy and Coriolanus knew it was a great chance to get close to you.

But you had other plans. You took your mother’s party as a distraction from him. At the atelier, you spent the following days previous to the party. Lysistrata and Clemensia wanted a dress from your mother’s hands and you had no problem with having your friends there.

Three glasses of champagne rested on the center table, you were in underwear, waiting for one of the sewers to take measurements of your body.

“I still don’t know why you want to wear light pink. It’s a boring color, y/n” Clemmie said. You giggled, and as soon as you were free to move, you slipped on a black nightgown, hurrying to grab the design you and your mother had come up with nights ago.

“Because of this… is a reformed copy of my grandmother’s dress” Both of your friends analyzed the paper and ended up nodding.

“It’s very pretty” Lysistrata replied.

Clemensia wanted a bodycon dress in silver and Lysistrata wanted a blue maxi dress. The theme of the party was flower masquerade. The winter collection was all about silver, pastel pink, burgundy, and grey.

“Hey, yesterday in the session I had of psychology, Persephone and Urban were gossiping about Livia and Coriolanus. Apparently, he called it quits with her after you returned. They only had like two dates but it wasn’t working out either way”

“In what world would Livia Cardew and Coriolanus Snow get along so well to have dates?” Your friends laugh, but you are slightly nervous about the subject.

“Everyone is so invested in you two, though. It was already a matter of gossip back in the Academy. Now that we are basically… adults? It’s more notorious” you eye Lysistrata, realizing you probably were more popular than you thought you were.

“I can’t forgive him. I can only see a selfish man. Not my boy, the one I fell in love with…” you confess.

Clemensia and Lysistrata look at each other, unsure about what they should say to you.

“You could meet the new man he is, perhaps he’s not as bad as you think,” Lysistrata says.

“But stay alert. And don’t give in so easily….” You know Clemensia is right.

And you’re still unsure about even considering giving Coriolanus another chance.

Someone knocked on the door and it was an avox, he handed you a bouquet that you took confused. It had a note.

[ I hope we can match for the party] Of course it had to be from him.

“Speaking of the devil…’

“He sent you flowers?” Clemmie asked and you nodded.

You call the avox and hand him the note. On the blank side, you wrote “I don’t think you’re wearing a light pink suit”.

“Let’s focus on the dresses…” they both nod at you.

…

It surely was one of the most beautiful parties you had attended ever. The party was letting every attendee that your family had won enough power to host something so luxurious. The saloon was full of flowers, some even scattered in the giant chandeliers that hung in the high ceilings. The avoxes all had the same black mask and were serving rounds after rounds of fine alcohol.

Your friends got a table near the stairs, they were laughing and having a good time. You stood up to get a sweet treat since you hadn’t eaten since midday. There was this guy that tagged along and he turned out to be very funny. He was getting along Lysistrata and you liked the sight.

But in the eyes of a certain blonde, who had just arrived, it set him on fire from jealousy. Coriolanus wasn’t trying to get you back in vane. He got mad after seeing you laugh with that guy. He got tired of waiting.

His evil grin grows when he overhears Clemensia and Festus saying you had confessed you still loved him but you couldn’t forgive him. That made him relax a little, so he put on his best smile and approached you at the food table.

There were cookies, pastries, and a vast variety of cakes.

You could hear many people praising your mother’s designs. As you started chewing a lavender and lemon pastry, you felt a hand on your lower back.

“Congratulations to your mother” You turned to encounter Coriolanus. He had a black suit with barely visible thin grey stripes and his signature rose, in a light pink shade that perfectly matched your dress. His mask was black as well and his look, in general, reminded you of his last-minute outfit from the day of the reaping. You felt a pang in your heart because you could see a glimpse of the boy he was at that masquerade.

“You are not going to speak?” He asked.

“I was chewing…” you said, looking away from him.

“Indeed” With his index finger, he cleaned your lips from the cream of the pastry, which took you by surprise.

“We need to talk.”

“Now it’s not the best time, Coriolanus”

“I’m pretty sure it can’t wait. I wouldn’t suit you, especially on a day like this” his words confused you and for some reason it made you feel nervous.

“Why are you saying it like that?”

“Like what, dear?” At the sound of his tone, you knew it wasn’t very good.

“Let’s go upstairs when the runway begins,” you said coldly.

The minutes pass flying and when the lights turn off and people gather to look at the fashion show, you and Coriolanus disappear upstairs.

There are plenty of rooms. Most of them are looked but you find one that’s open. It’s a restroom. It has low lights and a lot of mirrors as well as statues and paintings. In the center, there’s a velvet couch that you take to sit on.

You look at Coriolanus expectantly and he only eyes you deeply with his blue eyes.

“Would you marry me?” You frown, shock flooding you, but remain seated, gripping the cushion of the couch harshly.

“What?”

“If I told you I know you were born in the districts. Would you marry me?” You stand up furiously.

“DON’T YOU DARE, CORIOLANUS!” You yell, knowing nobody can hear you.

He grins and walks closing the distance between you two. You step backwards until he gently pushes you so you end up seated again.

“I told you I would get tired of waiting” Your eyes get teary.

“No, don’t cry, baby. I will treat you so right. I will make you a fine First Lady one day…” he whispers, caressing your face.

“Why are you so cruel?”

“I just want you to love me again”

“I did love you, Coriolanus. But it wasn’t enough for you” you retort with anger in your eyes. He smiled, an evil smile that made you mad, he gripped your chin so you couldn’t move away from him.

“I was a boy who didn’t know what it had. Now I’m not risking losing you again” You tried to stand up but he forced you to stay still. And then he kissed you.

His lips invaded yours. You couldn’t reciprocate, you wanted to run away and never come back. But he had other plans, he pinned your hands over your stomach and pushed you to lay on the couch.

When his knee had separated your legs, you opened your eyes in panic.

“Coriolanus, What are you doing?” He didn’t reply.

With one hand he bunched your dress over your lap and his lips started trailing kissing all over your knees to your inner thighs, you gasped and tried to close your legs.

“You can’t lie to my face that you don’t love me anymore. But I know you do. And your body can’t disguise it” he traced a finger over your underwear, the pink fabric denoting a darker spot that revealed your aching for his touch.

“Stop it” you demanded him. Coriolanus only chuckled.

“Who’s gonna understand you like I do? You can’t trust anyone but me, y/n” he said before moving your underwear aside and trailing your insides with his tongue.

You had to muffle a moan because you couldn’t give him the satisfaction, but that didn’t last long.

He had no experience because you knew he had never touched a woman. But he was a fast learner. Because he started making you feel so good. Coriolanus wanted to hear you moan his name, but he couldn't wait. He knew he was doing a good job because, at some point, you lifted one leg, your heel brushing his hip.

“I will never love you again,” you say between moans.

Coriolanus smirks.

“You already do. Just like me…”

You open your eyes and you turn to look at the mirrors. Coriolanus was under your dress and you were putting so much pressure on your stomach, trying to not lift your hips. You were so guilty. For giving into him. Because you still loved him and you secretly hoped he would be the man you wanted him to be.

_________________________________

Then the wedding, a trip to the districts, spooky encounter and finally love in part 3 or not?

Taglist: @sweet-n-serene @qoopeeya @ietss @commanderfreethatdust @starryyyshinomya44

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x lucy gray #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus x sejanus #coriolanus x reader #tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #corio snow #coriolanus x you #coriolanus fanfiction

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pedrostylez · 9 months ago

Text

I’m Here When You Need Me

Joel Miller x f!reader One Shot

Warnings: Angst, feelings, longing, cheating on the readers part, Joel just wants you to be happy, high key hating reader’s husband, age gap mentioned (Joel is in his 50’s, no reader age), insecurities, mentions of body and working out, insecurities, nipple and breast play, fingering, dirty talk, unprotected piv sex ( wrap it people), oral f recieving, I think that’s it

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: this has had minimal edits and I’m posting from my phone so don’t be judging me!!!! Heed the warnings. I hope you guys enjoy 😊

He’s at it again, dreaming of you wrapped around him. Soft to the touch, warm and needy, just how he likes you.

The telltale sound of his phone wakes him from the comfort of his dreams, vibrating through the pillow to his ear. When he squints his eyes to see your name on the screen, his heart freezes for a moment. You don’t typically call, so it must be important. “Hello?” He sounds groggy, and he hears your pause before a deep sigh. He knows you feel bad for calling him, even though you knew he would be asleep. “What is it, baby?”

“Don’t call me that.” You hiss, breath coming quickly through the receiver, the sound of your teeth biting at your nail.

“Are you alone?” He asks, now sitting up in bed. He’s used to a rogue text here and there, asking if he’s home so that you can slip out while your husband is asleep, or at work. He’s never texted you first, never been the initiator except for the once when he first spotted you in the bar. But a phone call in the middle of the night? Unheard of.

“Yeah.” You sigh, frustration clear in your voice.

He frowns, rubbing at his chin and shuffling out of bed. “Door’s open, baby.” It slips out, and he winces, figuring you’ll correct him again. He can’t help it.

You don’t say anything about the nickname, just give him a quiet goodbye and an ETA.

He doesn’t bother to remake the bed, doesn’t bother to clean up anything. He used to; used to make sure all the dishes were done and that the floor was swept for you. He was embarrassed, a 50 something year old man still living alone and had somehow gotten your attention. He wanted to leave a good impression.

But after enough times of you storming in, how you would grab around the collar of his shirt and thrust yourself at him to feel something, to distract you from whatever issues you were having with him, he stopped worrying.

A habit he shouldn’t get into, but he knew you would come around again and again.

Joel flicks on the outside light, looking out the curtain briefly before sitting on the couch and turning on the TV. He keeps the sound low, listening for the sound of your truck to pull up next to his. His pants are low, riding just below the elastic band of his underwear, loose and warm under the flannel.

He sighs, switching the channel and scratching at his incoming beard. He doesn’t know what mood you’ll be in, what you’ll want, but trying to wake himself up after a long day on the job is all he can do to prepare for you.

The sound of your door slamming has him turning his head, listening to your sneakers shuffle on his brick pathway. The pause at his door, where he swears he can hear you take a deep breath before twisting the knob and letting yourself in.

Your hair, swept to one side and down, loose, wild, has his mouth upturned out of habit. He loves you wild. “Hey.”

“What’s going on?” He asks quietly, letting you shut his front door and slip your sneakers off. He doesn’t dare move, afraid that he might scare you off by being too concerned. You’re in your own set of pajamas, loose shirt and flannel pants with a sweatshirt zipped in the front.

When you sit beside him, you lean into him with your head on his chest. One, two, three big breaths leave your mouth as he wraps an arm around you. It gives you the courage to say what you came here for. “I don’t think he loves me.”

Joel’s heart sinks, the sound of your voice defeated. His arm squeezes around you, looking down to the crown of your head. “No, baby that’s not true.” It slips out again, and he closes his eyes to try and recenter himself. Stop calling her baby.

“He won’t even look at me anymore.” You say again, tilting your head to look Joel in the eye. You’ve accepted it, eyes not shimmering with sadness. “He says he wants me but…never initiates. It’s like I’m begging just for an ounce of attention.”

Joel holds his face neutral, his blood boiling. He wants you, he would give you the attention you deserve. He knows that’s why you’re here, that’s why you called–

“I don’t think he finds me attractive anymore.” You whisper, an uncommitted shrug before you bury your head back against his chest.

Joel rubs his hand up and down your back, looking up toward the TV for a moment. Reruns of Seinfeld, laugh tracks and a bright screen fill his senses. He keeps quiet, keeping his hand moving to reassure you before he says, “I think the world of you.”

You shake under his arm with a brief chuckle, resting your hand on his stomach and swirling, swirling, swirling your finger around his belly button.

He resists sucking his stomach in, knowing you’ll chastise him like you have before. He wants to hold you, body against body to prove to you how much he wants you. “Do you want to go lay down with me?” He asks quietly, feeling your hair slide away from his arm as you pull away from him.

“Sure.” You reach for the remote, clicking off the screen and unzipping your sweatshirt. You turn to him, smirking as you step in the direction of his bedroom. “Just to sleep?”

“If that’s what you want.” Is his immediate answer. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve come to his door just wanting to fall asleep on his chest; he wouldn’t mind it in the least, just to have you next to him.

But the way you smile, the way your eyes shimmer with want, he knows that isn’t what will be happening.

No, not when he turns off all the lights and heads to the bedroom and finds you already under the covers. Your quiet voice asking him to turn off the lights is new, but he obliges.

He fumbles to the bed, getting under the covers and hearing your giggle when you reach for his hand and place it on your breast. He laughs as well, swiping his thumb back and forth over your nipple until it is taunt, peaked against the pads of his fingers. He presses his mouth to your jaw, lightly pinching to hear your whimper against his ear.

He sighs happily, groaning when your fingers wrap around his cock through his pajamas. Your hands are warm, pressing heat into him in ways he misses when you’re gone. He lets his fingers drift down your side, counting your ribs quietly to himself. “Let me see you, baby?” He inquires, letting his lips run down the column of your throat, pressing deeply into the curve of your collarbone.

He feels your tension, the way you freeze for only an instant before going back to your loosened and easy going movements. “What? Don’t like surprises?” You question, squeezing your hand around the head of him briefly before pushing down his pants.

He springs free, your fingers lightly dancing down his shaft making him groan. He wants to tell you that it’s not that he doesn’t like surprises, but he wants to watch you. He looks down, blankets haphazardly in the way, only giving him a peek at what your hand is doing around him.

It feels like heaven, your hand with small calluses at the base of each finger. The smoothness of the rest, silky and enticing pumping up and down, your thumb swiping at the weeping hole to spread some of the wetness around.

He moves the sheet out of the way, letting his eyes trail to your chest before looking up at you as his tongue pokes out, circling the same nipple from before. Your mouth opens in awe, eyes fluttering shut and head thrown back. “J-Joel–”

“Let me see you.” He’s muffled against your skin, flicking his tongue against you and letting his fingers drift further and further down. Joel’s fingers brush over the hem of your underwear, and he can’t help the smile that grows on his face as you giggle. He knows it’s ticklish there, just as he dips his fingers into the humid skin beneath.

Your breath hitches, eyes opening more fully as he moves the blankets with his arm. He notices how you watch it, suddenly self conscious as your legs start to spread for him. “I’m cold, Joel.”

He pauses, letting only the knuckle of his first two fingers continue their movement under the strain of your underwear. You’re slick, his fingers easily moving over your clit with a laziness that he knows you like. You don’t want to be rushed-ever; it’s why you go to his place to begin with. “I’ll warm you up.”

“N-no.” You close your eyes, shaking your head as if falling out of this fantasy. “I want the blankets up here.”

Joel’s fingers pause now, head tilting up to you and frowning. He can see you more clearly now, his eyes having adjusted to the street lamps that filter through his curtains. You’re almost naked below him, frowning with your eyes downturned, looking toward his hand instead of his face. He brings his other hand up, tilting your chin to look directly at him. “What’s wrong, baby?”

You attempt at a scoff, but he’s not buying it. “I’m cold, I told you–”

“You know I think you’re beautiful, right?” He gruffs, frown going deeper as he sees you shake your head. “You know I like to see how you react, touch you, look at you. Why do you want to be covered?”

“I’ll just put my shirt back on.” You snarl, teeth coming out to bite as you lean over the side of the bed, reaching for the shirt you had tossed off before he followed you into the bedroom.

His fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling your arm back and holding you to the bed. Unable to roll, you wiggle under him, pulling your hand free to reach again. When he catches you again, you groan unhappily, getting into a pulling and pushing match with him.

He’s stronger than you, the creases in his forehead deepening as he let’s you get away enough times to tire you out, but not letting you escape his question. “Quit fightin’ me, and tell me what is going on.”

Your hands are secured to the pillows below you, breasts bouncing from the intensity of it and your deep breaths. He can’t help how his eyes trail down, wanting to look at you, but seeing you squirm uncomfortably.

You stay silent, glaring at him and then looking to the ceiling as if you’re just going to ignore the question. Joel sighs, annoyance bubbling up in him and trying to tamp it down. It clicks suddenly in his head, that something must have been said to you. “Why do you want to be covered?”

Your eyes trail back to his, your furrowed brow slowly relaxing, the tension in your arms reducing to where Joel releases his grip and lets his fingers trail down to hold your torso. His hands wrap around you, his thumbs stroking at the soft skin under each breast. He’s not sure if your eyes are shimmering with tears, or if it is just a trick in the light when you say, “He…he asked if I had been working out lately.” You swallow, shaking your head. “A-and when I said no, he…he said ‘that’s obvious.’”

Joel’s breath comes quickly, his fingers subconsciously digging into your skin to hold himself steady. He said what? He can’t help but stare at you, waiting for more to come, but you just stare back with a slow buildup of tears in your lash line.

Another moment of silence before you’re sniffling, bringing a hand up to cover your eyes as if embarrassed. Joel releases you as he feels your body shutter, pulling the blankets up around you both and moving his fingers to cradle your head. He lets his dull nails scratch at your scalp, shushing and cooing at you until you’re pressed against him, naked skin on skin in a humid cloud under his blankets.

He lets you cry; it’s the first he’s really ever seen you do so since meeting you. You’ve always been strong, secure and confident in how you present yourself. He found it off putting, in some ways-he had never been with a woman that didn't need him. He was used to being the provider. But you’d always taken care of yourself, came and went as you pleased, and didn’t ask for anything else.

His heart swells with want. “You’re alright baby, I’ve got you.” He husks, moving his fingers to the back of your neck and massaging at the tense muscles there. “He’s a fucking moron, you know that don’t you? You’re beautiful, you’ve got me wrapped around your finger.”

You shake your head, tears having stopped and a small smile making its way across your face. “No I don't, Miller.”

“You do.” He relents, tilting his head down to look at you again. Red eyes and wet lashes, but otherwise okay. His thumb runs under your eyes, absorbing tears from your face almost instantly. “He shouldn’t be speaking to you that way.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s not a big deal. He’s right, it’s probably why our marriage isn’t going great.”

“That’s not true.” He says immediately, letting his thumb drift to your lower lip and pull it down briefly. “You think your marriage isn’t going well because he doesn’t find you attractive?”

“Among other things.” You sigh, now back to your previous demeanor. Your fingers are dancing over his chest, swirling his chest hair around. “Joel, it’s fine.”

“It’s not.” He argues. “You’re someone any decent man would want. How can he just–”

“Please just, let’s move on.” You cut him off, pressing a flat palm firmly into his chest.

He closes his mouth, breathing heavily through his nose to calm himself down from giving a full lecture. He wants you to understand, to hear him fully. You deserve better than what you have.

You both lay there silently for a moment, just breathing together and not moving. He keeps his eyes on yours, watching yours flick down to his mouth and feeling the way you minutely move towards him. He doesn’t dare move, wanting you to be the one that initiates.

Your hand is gentle against his lower stomach, gliding down again to his now softened cock. It stirs, easy to respond to you. Joel stops your hand, wrapping his fingers around your wrist. “Is this what you want?”

“Yes.” You’re breathy, pupils having gone wide as he lets go of your wrist. It doesn’t take him long to get hard again with how you move your hand, his mind both empty and racing with thoughts.

When you roll on to your back, offering a silent invitation for him to get on top, he’s eager to let his legs tangle with yours and settle between your thighs. He presses his mouth to your collarbone, trailing down below the blanket as you wished for before, his tongue peeking out when he gets to your core.

You sigh happily when his tongue meets your clit in slow, agonizing circles. He prefers to watch you when he does this, eyes up on your face as his tongue swoops back and forth, over and over the hood of your clit until you’re squirming and reaching down to fist at his hair. He likes watching your neck shine with a thin layer of sweat, the way your hair begins to stick to your face and your eyes closing tightly to just feel him.

But right now he’s below the covers, holding one leg down and open to better feast on his meal, the other reaching up and intertwining his fingers with yours. The hand not in his must be bracing yourself against his headboard, your moans muffled by the sheets and blankets surrounding him.

He lets his tongue dip into you, squeezed briefly by your walls and the yelp you let out makes him chuckle. You never expect the first intrusion, spreading your legs wider to let his shoulders be flat against you, his laugh vibrating against your skin.

He continues this pattern, dipping into you with his tongue, circling your clit, and back again. He doesn’t know how long it goes on for, over and over to the point that he’s closed his eyes to feel you instead of watching you. His cock is hard between his legs, pressing against the end of his mattress and begging to be touched by your hand.

There’s a gust of cool air as you lift the sheet away from him, tossing it to the cold side of the bed and reaching down to his hair. He groans again, missing the feeling of your hand on any part of him, and he winces at the tug you give.

You’re pulling him up, wanting his lips on yours and for him to cover you. He obliges, pressing his lips to yours and grabbing at your thighs to lift around his middle. It would be embarrassing, how hard he is for you right now, pressed to your center and grinding against the slick that he left there, but he can’t care right now.

You want him, and that’s his priority; keeping you wanting him.

“Taste so sweet, baby. You want a little?” He says gently against your lips, pressing into your again and letting his tongue sweep into your mouth. You moan, a high and breathy sound that he loves. “That’s right, you like that, don’t you?”

He waits for your nod of approval, how you lunge for his mouth again and happily kiss his lips and jaw as he adjusts his hips to better line himself up with your center. “Joel, please, get inside me already.”

“Impatient.” He mumbles, smirking at you and tilting his head to bite at your ear. He knows you’re ticklish there, wanting to hear your laugh another time before he fills you and loses all sense of himself inside you.

He feels you tilt your hips for him, letting your half-lidded eyes meet his. The head of his cock weeps, aching to be inside you. Joel moves himself to let his head rest against your waiting entrance, beginning the slow slide in.

He can’t stop the thoughts in his mind, racing around in circle. I love you. I love you. I love you.

Once fully seated inside, you both groan in unison, his arms strained to pull away just enough to look down to where you both are connected. “Fuck.” He bites out, looking back up to your face and letting one hand rest on your jaw. “You’re so fucking perfect around me.”

“Joel, move honey.” You whine, reaching out to his shoulders and pulling him back to you. Your nails dig into the taunt muscle, the feeling soothing him.

Honey.

You don’t call him that unless you’re in a different headspace–where you forget the circumstances of why you’re here. It was difficult early on for Joel to get you to relax, even though the act itself made you like putty in his hands. No, he focused on you mentally relaxing, truly forgetting your worries. When you were like this, he could say what he meant. “You’re so perfect baby.” He strains, thrusting into you at a slow and methodical pace. His hips press into the backs of your thighs, his fingers holding around your jaw tighter. “So fucking wet, you wanted this, huh? Wanted me to fuck you like this?”

You nod as he speeds up, the sound of your skin slapping against his now more prominent, the frame of the bed creaking quietly behind it. I love you. I love you. I love you.

He has to stop himself from saying it. The first time he had, he thought it would be the end of whatever the two of you had going. It had slipped out over six months ago, on your way out the door after riding him on the couch.

“I love you.” He had said quietly, watching you redress after climbing off of him.

You turned to him, a half smile on your face. “No, you don’t.” You said simply, waving at him and going on your way. He didn’t expect you to call him after that, and was shocked when just the next night you were on his doorstep waiting for him after work.

And now you’re below him, and just as every time before after that first admission, he wants to say it again. You’re crying out, asking him to come instead of announcing you’re going to, and he speeds up his movements. “You wanna finish around my cock?” He asks, his voice unrecognizable. “I’ll let you, go ahead baby. Let me see it.”

You nod, tears brimming your eyes again for a different reason than before. He feels you tighten in waves around him, sucking him in further as he tries to hold himself back. Joel continues to pump his hips, his lower back tingling with his own release ready.

“J-Joel–” you moan, digging your nails deeper into his shoulder. “Come inside me, pl-please.”

He grunts, forgetting himself and pushing forward with a whine he’s never heard leave his mouth. His eyes close as his come coats your walls, warm and welcoming of it. Joel rests his forehead against yours, sweaty skin pressed to sweaty skin, smiling down at you and breathing heavily. “Fuck baby–”

“Don’t call me that, honey.” You tease, eyes fluttering shut and an award winning smile spreading across your face.

He pulls out, wincing at how tight you are around him still, resting on his side and letting his arm wrap around your middle. “Stay?” He asks quietly, watching you turn your head and opening your eyes to look at him.

You think for a moment. “I need to clean up, and then I’ll decide.”

He grunts in disapproval, letting you slip out of his grasp and step into the ensuite bathroom. The light blinds him briefly, your ass the only thing he can see as you lean over the sink to get a closer look in the mirror. Joel props his head up, watching as you push up on the balls of your feet to get closer, your arms coming out to the door frame and leaning over to look at him. “Do you have wipes?”

He had bought some after the first few times of you being there, asking every time if he had any. He had got you to say what brand they were, and he kept them stocked now. “First drawer on the right.”

You hum happily, pulling out a face wipe and turning back to him, watching him as you scrub at your forehead and cheeks. “Did you want to clean up?”

He shakes his head. “Want to keep you on me, if you don’t mind?”

You smirk, rolling your eyes as if you don’t care. When you finish, you flick the light off and walk toward the bed, Joel blinded briefly from the change in light. “Where’d you go, baby?”

“I’m here.” You whisper, shifting the bed as you climb in and pull the covers from the other side to cover you both. You’re still naked, now cooled skin against him. “I’ll stay, if that’s okay.”

“Of course.” He whispers back, smiling to himself and wrapping an arm around your shoulder. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, enjoying how you snuggle into his body and neck, fitting perfectly with him. “I’d let you stay as long as you want. You know that.”

You sigh, circling your fingers against his chest hair. “What if…” you trail off, fear taking hold of your voice in a way that makes Joel uncomfortable. He squeezes an arm around you, waiting. “What if I’m too scared to have things change?” You whisper, tensing in his arms.

Joel remains relaxed, his mind swimming with I love you, I love you, let me love you. He sighs, pressing another kiss to your head. “I’m here for when you need me, if you want me.” He says quietly, feeling you relax in his arms again.

Your eyelashes flutter against his skin, your breath slowing down and becoming deeper. As you fall asleep, Joel swallows harshly. He’s here when you need him, and it was never going to change.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller tlou

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enhas-pov · 5 months ago

Note

Hey i was asking if u could make heeseung “My stalker “, can u add like second boy lead like jake so it be more interesting more LIKE ADD JAKE LIKE HES YN’S EX HE CAME BACK SO IT BE MORE INTERESTING LIKE HEESEUNG GETS JEALOUS HELPPP 😭 (sorry if it’s bad idea i sucks at it 😭🙏🏻)

my stalker pt.2

summary: after heeseung successfully kidnapped reader, he practically owns her now. after being stuck in heeseung’s home for a while, he finally lets her go out with him. but what happens when they stumble upon reader’s ex boyfriend, jake?

warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, kidnapping, torture, crying, blood, gore, yandere, obsessive behavior, jealousy issues, (and probably more)

word count: 5.8k

note: thank u for the idea😭 i was stuck on what to make part 2 about, but i hope u like it!! (‼️i’ve also not read through it, so ignore any mistakes‼️)

pt.1

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i don’t know how long he’s held me captive for. i’ve been in here for what feels like years, but it’s probably just been a few days. he’s been coming in and out with food and a change of clothes. i have to change in front of him every time which makes me feel disgusted. he hasn’t told me his name, i don’t know his age, i don’t know how he knows all of these things about me, he’s still a complete stranger in my eyes. if he’s gonna keep me all to himself, i might as well be able to go around freely around his home right? i can’t be stuck in this basement forever. i need to convince him to let me out of here.

“sorry for late dinner. i was busy” he walked in holding a plate filled with food in his hands. he sat down next to me and placed the meal in my lap. he also sits down with me until i’m finished eating, i guess that’s kinda nice of him. in my opinion it’s better than being all alone. “can i ask you something..?” i ask nervously. he hums in response while he looks at me. “can you-“ i pause as i felt scared to ask him to let me out, what if he’ll start going mad? “don’t stop on my account. go on” i felt his hand sliding over my thigh making me even more nervous. “can you let me out of here? ..please” i could feel his eyes on me even tho i had my head lowered. “remember what i told you?” “unfortunately, i can’t trust you yet. you’ll still have to stay down here until i can” “you can trust me. please, i don’t like being here all by myself” i heard him sigh before he got back up on his feet. “sorry pretty. no can do” “but-“ “___.” the sound of his voice when he said my name, it sounded like a warning. i kept quiet as he made his way out, but he stopped at the sound of my voice again. “can i at least take a bath? i feel dirty..” he turned back around and i expected him to start yelling at me for talking again, but he actually agreed to it? “fine.. get up” i quickly stood up and walked over to him. he placed his hand in mine as he lead me out of the basement. the second we walked upstairs my eyes went straight to the windows. finally seeing daylight after being locked up for a few days felt amazing. all though, i couldn’t recognize where we were. i could see a field and that was it. when we reached the bathroom, i didn’t expect him to close the door behind him. was he gonna watch me take a bath? he’s weirder than i thought.. “are you staying?” i asked him. you could hear how nervous i was at the sound of my voice. “uhuh” i watched him cross his arms and lean against the sink. “can’t risk anything. who knows? you could try to drown yourself or maybe even jump out of that window” he said, his finger pointing at the window next to the bathtub. “i wouldn’t do that” did he really think i was gonna try and kill myself? “enough chit chatting. get undressed” he suddenly said. he was still stood watching me, it made me slightly uncomfortable. i didn’t want to get naked in front of him. “could you- can you turn around, please..?” he looked me up and down before slowly turning around, i sighed in relief when he did. i started with removing my top along with my bra and then my sweatpants along with my underwear. i sat myself down in the bathtub and immediately loved the feeling of the warm water against my skin, i had forgotten how much i missed it.

when he heard my body touch the water, he turned back around to face me. i looked up and saw him eyeing my body. he couldn’t see much since i had covered my chest with my hands and closed my legs. it was completely silent, he wasn’t saying anything and neither was i. i wanted to know more about him but i was afraid to ask. should i? the worst thing he can say is no, right? “i never got your name” i say, breaking the silence. he eyes left my body as he was now making eye contact. “why do you wanna know my name, pretty?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. “i’m gonna stay here with you.. right?” he nodded, “that’s the plan” “then, i’d like to know who i’m staying with” how long would i be staying with him for tho? weeks? months? years? “i guess not knowing my name would be kinda weird. since, you know.. you’ll be staying with me forever” forever? i’m gonna be trapped in this hell hole forever? no, i refuse. i don’t even know this guy. he seems like a creep and- “heeseung” huh? “lee heeseung” heeseung. so that’s what his name is. “heeseung.. lee heeseung.. hee.. seung-“ “what are you doing?” he asked by cutting me off. “i just.. you call me pretty a lot and so- i just thought that maybe i’d.. make a nickname for you as well?” i stuttered which made a smile appear on his face. it was softer than usual. “cute” was all he said. “so what’s my nickname?” i went back to thinking of one, “maybe.. seungie?” i heard him chuckle before he shook his head. “do you not like it? i can make up a new one-“ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ “no, no. i like it” i watched him grab a towel and walk towards me with it. he turned his head, looking away from me while he held the towel out for me to grab. i stood up with water dripping from my body as i grabbed the towel out of his hand. i wrapped it around my body and stepped out of the bathtub. i brought my hand up and tapped on his shoulder, signaling for him to turn around. once he did, his eyes didn’t go straight to my body this time. maybe he wasn’t that much of a pervert as i thought. he grabbed my by my hand and walked me out of the bathroom and lead me all the way over to his bedroom. his room was huge, he even had a king sized bed. he handed me a t-shirt and a pair of his boxers. “i should probably get you some new underwear..” he said while scratching the back of his neck. “this is okay for now” i reassured him. “thank you, seungie” he smiled before turning around again so that i could change into the pair of clothes he gave me. i started changing after the towel fell off my body and dropped onto the floor.

“we can try” he said out of nowhere. “what?” i asked, watching him turn around to look at me again. “you can stay up here. you’ll sleep in the same bed as me and you get to walk around the house freely” was he serious? all i wanted was to not be in that basement. i swear i’ve never been happier. “really? thank you-“ i was happy and excited until he suddenly stopped me. he placed his hand at the back of my head and pushed my face closer to his. “if you ever try to run away from me, ___. i’ll lock you in that basement forever. got it?” the fear that i didn’t notice had disappeared came right back at that moment. his words scared me, the way his voice sounded, it made me feel unsafe. i nodded slightly at his words as i was too scared to talk back to him. he smiled, patting my head before he took a few steps back. “i want you to know that i have cameras in every corner of this house, in case you were thinking of running away while i’m gone” the thought of running away actually hadn’t crossed my mind. i wouldn’t try to anyway, i’m too scared of what he’ll do to me. but what did he mean by when he’s gone? “while you’re gone?” i asked him with my eyebrows furrowed. “i usually leave the house everyday to go back to town” i knew it. when i looked out the window i wasn’t familiar with where we were. “how long does it take to get to town?” he looked at me in silence for a while, like he was debating on whether to tell me or not. “about an hour” he says. an hour? he definitely thought this through. even if i planned on escaping, there’s no chance i’d get home to safety in time before heeseung would get to me first. “get in bed. i’ll be right with you” i watched him walk out through the door and i was left alone in his bedroom. i sat myself down on his bed before moving the blanket to the side and pulling it over my body, placing my head down on the pillow after. i think the reason to why heeseung suddenly changed his mind about me not having to stay in the basement, was because i gained a little bit of his trust. if i continue being nice to him and follow his rules maybe there’s a chance i could leave the house one day. maybe i could go back to town and see my mom again, maybe even ningning? i was lost in my thoughts, but brought back quickly when i felt heeseung wrap his arms around my waist. i felt his bare chest against my back and his hot breath fanning over my neck. for some reason, the feeling was comforting. i didn’t feel scared.. i actually felt kinda safe in his arms.

i woke up the next day expecting heeseung to be asleep next to me, but to my surprise he wasn’t. i was confused, but i didn’t stress much about it since i had slept so good. i was sleeping on a hard cold floor for the past few days, finally sleeping in a bed was all i needed. i sat myself up and stretched my arms out in the air. i was about to get up before i noticed a note on the bedside table. did heeseung write it? i reached out, grabbing the note before i started reading it. “i’ve left to go back to town. i’ll be back soon, but in the meantime i expect you to be good. think of it as a test. i’ll be grading you based on the choices you make while i’m gone. i’ve also left something out for you in the kitchen” a test? he’ll be grading me? as long as i don’t try to leave everything will be fine, right? i placed the note back on the bedside table before i got up from bed, making my way over to the kitchen. i stopped in my tracks once i had entered the kitchen. i was surprised at what i saw, pancakes on a plate and a bowl of strawberries with a glass of orange juice. did he really prepare breakfast for me? i smiled before i took a seat and got right into eating. i was starving, so i couldn’t help myself. i mostly spent the rest of the day looking around the house. and i’m not gonna lie, looking through the windows made wanting to escape very tempting, but i didn’t take the chance.

what ___ didn’t know was that heeseung didn’t leave to go back to town, he was sat in his car parked not too far down the road. what was he doing? he was watching her every move through the cameras he had told her about. he wanted to know if he really could trust her, and maybe he actually could. he watched her wake up and eat the breakfast he prepared for her. she walked around the house, looked at a few stuff which didn’t bother heeseung at all. he noticed how she would stop by every window she walked past, and for a second there he thought she was planning on escaping, but she was just stood there looking out the window. he thought she’d at least open it for the fresh air, but she didn’t, and he slowly started gaining more trust for her. what heeseung couldn’t stop thinking about was last night, when ___ fell asleep. his hands would travel up and down her body, god knows how many times. he loved the feeling of his hands against her soft skin. but what heeseung couldn’t stop thinking of the most was when she would rub her ass against his bulge. he’d groan every time she did, but quite enough so he wouldn’t wake her. heeseung wanted to pull his dick out and start fucking her from behind in her sleep right there, but he managed to stop himself from doing so.

i was sat on the couch while some random movie was playing on the tv. i kept on looking at the clock as i watched the time pass by, when will heeseung come back? what a coincidence. right as i was thinking about him, i heard the front door unlock and i saw him walk in. he took his jacket off, placing it on the standing rack before he took his shoes off while i watched him patiently. he walked over to the couch where i was sat, he stood over me and looked down. i looked back up at him which made me kinda nervous since he was just standing there without saying a word. he brought his hand up next to my face and placed a strand of hair behind my ear. i gave him a small smile, he bit his lip in response. “i got you something, since you were a good girl and listened to me” he said and that’s when i noticed he was holding a jewelry box in his other hand. he sat down next to me on the couch before he placed it in my lap. at first, i thought it was the necklace he had given me that i threw away, but to my surprise it wasn’t. the second i opened it i felt tears start forming in my eyes. “how’d you get this..?” it was a necklace of mine that i lost a long time ago. it was from my mom, she gave it to me when i was a little girl and now that i’m seeing it again it’s only making me emotional. “i have my ways” he grabbed the necklace out of the jewelry box, moving my hair to the side before he helped me put it on. “thank you, seungie” my voice cracked due to the fact that i was literally about to start crying, i missed my mom. heeseung noticed i was getting upset and he seemed to actually care. “hey, don’t cry. you’re okay” i felt his hand stroking my thigh. i think he was trying to comfort me? “i want to see my mom..” i lowered my head as tears began rolling down my cheek. i only heard him let out a big sigh. he leaned back against the couch, running his hand through his hair. “___. you know i can’t allow that” he moved his hand away from my thigh and placed it on my back instead. he sat there with his leg bouncing while he was listening to my quiet sobs. “alright. listen, i’ll take you out tomorrow, yeah?” i lifted my head up, turning around to face him. “r-really..?” he cupped my face with both of his hands, wiping my tears away with his thumbs. “anything to make you happy, pretty” i took a moment to admire his features. he wasn’t bad after all, he was pretty attractive i’ll admit. but there was something about him that made me want to just.. without thinking straight, my lips were suddenly on his. i could tell he was shocked but it didn’t take long for him to start kissing me back. my hands were on his chest while his was still cupping my face. i was quick to pull away, why did i do that? “i’m sorry.. i don’t- i don’t know why i did ⠀ ⠀ that..-“ he shook his head at my words. “shh, don’t apologize” he started stroking my hair and i couldn’t help but to feel comfortable with him.

it was the next day and i was extremely excited to finally be able to leave the house. i was wearing the same clothes i wore the day heeseung took me, he had washed them for me to wear and told me he’d get me new clothes, which was nice of him. heeseung also didn’t want to leave during the daytime, he thought it’d be risky so now that it’s dark out we’re finally leaving. “you ready?” he asked me. “mhm!” he took my hand, leading me out through the front door. the second the fresh air hit me, i felt like i was alive again. he walked me to his car and opened the door for me. i got in, put my seatbelt on and so did he. heeseung was right, we had been driving for almost an hour now and during the whole ride the only thing i saw out the window were fields. i closed my eyes, leaning my head back against the seat “how long until we get there?” i asked him. “open your eyes, pretty” when i opened my eyes i looked around to see that we were finally back in town, i swear i had just closed my eyes a second ago. i wasn’t surprised when i barley saw anyone, it was late at night after all. he stopped by a convenience store before he parked the car. i was about to take my seatbelt off before he stopped me. “did i say you could get out of the car?” he said, his hand grabbing my hand that attempted to unbuckle the seatbelt. “i just thought that-“ “you’re lucky i even let you come all the way out here with me, i thought you appreciated it?” he raised his eyebrows at me, cocking his head to the side. “no, i do- i appreciate it..” i removed my hand from the seatbelt, leaning back into my seat. “good. stay here until i get back, got it?” he gripped at my chin which forced me to look at him eye to eye. i gave him a nod before he let go and got out of the car. i watched him walk into the convenience store as i was sat waiting for him to get back. was he at least gonna get me something? i should’ve asked for chocolate milk.. actually, i haven’t had sprite in a while- “___?” i jumped at the sound of knocking on the car window right next to me. who was that?

i cursed to myself when i took a closer look at the guy standing outside of heeseung’s car. “fuck.. is that jake?” jake is my ex boyfriend, i dated him for 1 year before he broke up with me. i’m not sure why he did.. i kept on waving my hand for him to leave, i didn’t want heeseung to see him trying to talk to me. “go away!” i whisper yelled at him. “what?” this guy i swear to god. i opened the door which accidentally hit him in his forehead. i closed the door behind me once i had gotten out of the car, jake mumbled an “ouch” while rubbing his forehead. “i told you to go away! are you deaf?” i tried to be quiet knowing heeseung could come out of the convenience store any second now. “where have you been? everyone’s been looking for you. i was worried” he was? i expected people to be looking for me, but i didn’t think he’d be worried about me. “i was-“ “___. i told you to stay in the car, didn’t i?” shit.. the sound of heeseung’s voice came from behind me. i felt his chest against my back as he wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me closer to him. “jake” he said. “heeseung..” do they know each other or something? “so, you left town to be with heeseung..?” jake asked me. he looked confused and weirded out, which i didn’t understand why. “i-“ i felt heeseung squeeze my hip, i don’t think he wants me to talk.. “mind your business, sim” heeseung said glaring at him. “she can talk for herself” jake said glaring right back at heeseung. what was happening? “___. let me take you home” he attempted to grab me by my arm, but heeseung slapped his hand away. “don’t fucking touch her” he warned him. “she’s not your bitch man. come on-“ the second time heeseung tried grabbing my arm, heeseung pushed me to the side and unexpectedly he threw a punch at jake. i gasped at the sudden attack, why would he do that? “heeseung!” jake was already on the ground after the first punch, it didn’t help when heeseung kept on punching him repeatedly. “please stop! seungie..?” he stopped with his fist in the air, looking down at jake. “get in the car” he growled. “but-“ he got up so fast i didn’t even have the time to process it. he grabbed me harshly by my arms and looked me dead in the eye. “i said, get in the fucking car. now” the grip he had on my arms were so strong that i thought it’d leave a bruise. without saying a word, i opened the car door and got in quickly. my heart was racing at the way he had me so scared. i heard him open the trunk, and when i looked out the window i noticed how jake’s body was gone. was heeseung..? oh god. jake wasn’t dead was he? why else would heeseung place him in the trunk? i should’ve never opened the door for jake, this is all my fault. i flinched when heeseung slammed the door open, getting in the car before slamming the door shut again. “you’re gonna fucking regret this” he mumbled loud enough for me to hear. what did he mean by that..?

“please- seungie- i’m sorry.. i didn’t mean to-“ i whimpered when my body hit the cold hard floor. i was back in the basement again, this wasn’t that i wanted. i didn’t even say anything to jake about heeseung, i didn’t even get the chance to tell him anything at all. heeseung took a good look at me before he slammed the door shut, locking me inside. i was all by myself and i hated it, there’s no way i’d gain his trust again. i felt my eyes slowly start closing by themselves, and before i knew it i was out of it.

meanwhile, heeseung had jake tied up in a chair while he was torturing him. heeseung hated jake. they used to be best friends, and jake knew about heeseung’s big crush on ___, but that didn’t stop him from dating her. all heeseung felt was rage, he wanted to just kill jake, but that would be too easy. he watched blood drip down his body as he cut him up. jake’s screams were muffled by the tape covering his mouth. “i told you to stay away from her. she’s mine” heeseung said, leaning down near jake’s tear stained face. “i’m gonna make this worse than death for you”

“wake up pretty..” huh? i struggled to open my eyes, had i just passed out? my back was hurting a lot, and so was the back of my head. when i finally opened my eyes, i saw heeseung towering over me. i reacted and sat up quickly, moving away from him. “don’t tell me you’re scared of me again. i thought you had warmed up to me? you know, since you kissed me and all” he said, crouching down in front of me. “w-what did you do.. to jake..?” i asked him, barley even able to get my words out properly. “what did i do to jake.. i don’t know. would you like to see for yourself?” he reached his hand out for me to grab as he smiled creepily down at me. i wanted to know if jake was okay, so i placed my shaky hand in his, letting him help me up and lead me out of the basement. he brought me to this room i had never seen before, i wonder how i missed it. he paused in front of the closed door before he turned to me. “i can tell you’re scared already, and i wouldn’t want to scare you even more. prepare yourself for what you’re about to see, pretty” i furrowed my eyebrows, watching him slowly open the door. heeseung let me walk in first, and the second i stepped foot in that room i looked back right away. i covered my mouth in disgust at what i had just seen. “oh my fucking god..” i mumbled to myself. heeseung ran his hands up and down my back as i practically hid my face in his chest. “told you” he said. “look at him again” he leaned down and whispered in my ear. i shook my head, feeling like i was about to throw up. “i can’t.. i- i feel sick” i said with my face still hid in his chest. “you feel sick?” he chuckled. there was blood everywhere. jake had been cut up and his wounds were so bad and graphic it made me sick to my stomach. “please.. seungie- he needs to go to a hospital” i said, looking up at heeseung who was already looking down at me. “you mean to tell me that you want him to live? after he dumped you? after he stole you from me?” he was getting angry, i could tell. “no- just, please.. i won’t do anything like that ever again, i promise. i don’t need to leave the house, i can stay in the basement, just don’t let him die- please, seungie. i don’t care because it’s jake-“ “then why do you care?” i didn’t even know what i was saying, i just kept on begging and begging without thinking. “if he dies then.. it’ll be in your hands. i don’t want them to take you away from me..” did i really mean that? i don’t know. i just needed jake to get out of here and go to a hospital. heeseung didn’t say anything, he just looked at me like he was processing what i had just said. he walked past me and made his way over to jake. i wanted to look back, but i didn’t want to see jake again. “if you tell anyone about this. i will find you and fucking kill you” i heard heeseung tell him. “pretty, will you leave the room for just a second?” he didn’t have to ask me twice, i left the room as fast as i could, leaving heeseung and jake alone. was he gonna let jake go? was he gonna kill him? was he gonna continue torturing him? i didn’t know what to think.

it had been about 30 minutes and i was anxiously sitting on heeseung’s bed. i kept on bouncing my leg as i waited and waited until i finally heard the door opening. “seungie..?” he started walking my towards me and i noticed how he had blood on his hands and his shirt. he didn’t kill jake.. did he? shit shit shit. “i did what you asked for” wait, what? “you let him go..?” he simply just nodded. i let out a sigh in relief, thank god. but wait- “you’re not gonna leave the house and you’ll stay in the basement, yeah? that’s what you promised” maybe i shouldn’t have said exactly that.. i really didn’t like being in that basement. and i’d like to leave the house once in a while, i can’t be locked up in here forever. “i know..” i said, still sat on his bed. “get up then” he took a step forward so he was stood in between my legs. “i- i wanted to sleep with you..” i slowly looked up at him and saw a smirk on his lips. “alright. i’ll let you sleep with me, but i need something from you first” he pressed my back onto the bed before he leaned down, hovering over me. his face was dangerously close to mine, and before i knew it he had smashed his lips onto mine. forget passionately, he was being really aggressive with me. i think it’s because he was still mad.

his hands travelled to the ends of my top before pulling it over my head. he unclipped my bra fast and threw it away somewhere on the floor. his hand instantly went to one of my breasts, squeezing it and rubbing my nipple with his thumb. he wrapped his mouth around my other nipple, swirling his tongue around before he bit down on it making me whimper, and he groaned when i did. his hand left my breast and instead went down to the hem of my skirt before pulling it down along with my panties, he was quick with it. i looked down to see him unbuckling his belt which made me nervous. this was gonna be my first time, and he wasn’t being very gentle. he lowered his sweatpants together with boxers revealing his huge dick that was red with pre-cum. my eyes widened at the sight of it, i wasn’t sure if i could take that, it looks like it would hurt a lot. “seungie..” “shh. don’t worry, pretty. i’ll make you feel good” he shushed me and placed a kiss on my lips. not knowing how any of this works, i thought he was gonna get right into it, but i was confused when i felt his fingers going up and down my slit. “shit.. you’re soaked. is all of this for me? hm?” i let out a “mhm” which sounded exactly like a moan. i gasped when he slipped in not one finger, but two at the same time. i arched my back and moaned when he started pumping his fingers in and out of me. “can’t even take my fingers..” he scoffed. i felt him curl his fingers as his movements started growing faster. while he was busy fingering me, he went down to kiss me again. i whined into his mouth when he slipped his tongue past my lips. i tried pulling away, i don’t know why, but it resulted in him grabbing me by my chin, forcing me to kiss him back. when i felt the heat growing in my stomach, i managed to pull away from the kiss. “i’m gonna cum..-“ he was quick to pull his fingers out of me the second i told him i was about to release. “not yet, pretty. need you to cum around my cock” he repositioned us, placing me down on his lap. he placed his arms on my waist and that’s when i remembered the blood he had on his hands. did he just finger me with jake’s blood on his fingers. i looked down at myself to see how he had smeared his blood over my chest, waist and pussy. i felt disgusted and dirty, but heeseung didn’t seem to care.

“look at me” he said, tapping his finger under my chin. when i looked up at him i suddenly felt his tip pressing at my entrance. his grip on my waist tightened, “you ready?” i nodded even tho i definitely wasn’t ready. “this might hurt, but you’ll be okay” i swallowed nervously before i felt him slowly pushing my hips down on his hardened length. i squeezed my eyes shut at the feeling, it was burning. i gripped onto his shoulders as my walls tightened around him. “almost there.. you’re doing so good” he whispered into my ear. god, i felt so full and he wasn’t even all the way in yet. it was definitely too much, i couldn’t handle it. “there we go. good girl” he said pressing a kiss to my cheek. i was fully sat down on his cock and he was big, way too big. “seungie, you’re too b-big..” i whimpered, hiding my face in the crook of his neck. “i know. i’ll make you feel good, yeah?” he lifted me up slowly allowing me to adjust to the overwhelming feeling. he pushed me all the way back down letting a loud moan escape from my mouth. he started bouncing me up and down, his fingers digging into my hips hard enough to bruise. he threw his head back in a groan as he snapped his hips up to meet mine. “a-ah.. seungie.. t-too much” the pain was completely gone, all i could feel was pleasure. “shit. take it” i heard him curse under his breath. he slams me down harder making all of it too much for me to handle. i bit down on his shoulder and he didn’t seem to mind, considering how he let out a moan when i did. “gonna fill you up and- shit.. so fucking tight” once again, i felt the heat growing in my stomach. the both of us let out loud pornographic moans as we both finish at the same time. i felt his warm cum filling me up, painting my insides white as i came around his cock. he pulls me in closer and places a kiss on my forehead when i tremble around him. my face still hid in his neck as i catch my breath, i feel him grab me by my chin forcing me to look at him. “you did so good, pretty” he pulled me in for a kiss, this time it was slow and passionate. with me still on top of him, sat on his cock as his cum slowly spills out of me, he lays down pulling the blanket over us. “get some rest now, okay?” i hum, placing a kiss on his neck before i drift off to sleep.

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moon1itmemory · 4 months ago

Text

5-Star Babysitters

You thought you were up to the task of watching over your friend's baby for the day. Turns out you might need a little assistance.

Contents: Sylus/Fem!reader, almost NSFW, MDNI, making out, hickies, and humor

A/n: Came to me in a dream. Enjoy. Also, no baby fever reader because there was no baby fever in my dream because I don’t like babies, very sorry to the baby fever folks. Sylus definitely caught it though.

1.1K words

“Is she asleep?” You crane your neck from where you sit on your couch, television playing on the lowest volume so as to not disturb the little thing that had invaded your home for the day. A favor for a friend; watching her baby for the night so that she could get some well-earned sleep. Couldn’t be hard, you thought, but the baby didn’t seem to like you very much.

Sylus had called mid-tantrum and could barely hear you over its cries.

“I’ll be over in a moment.” He’d said. And over he’d come.

“Fast asleep,” he murmured lowly as he joined you on the couch, glancing at the television. “Nothing a little food and a lullaby can’t fix.”

“You sang her one of your famous lullabies?” A cocky smirk fixes itself onto your face. You’d heard Sylus’s singing before. It wasn't the best. It also wasn’t the worst.

Sylus copies the expression and gives it back to you. “She gave it a five-star review.”

You face him, tilting your head. “How could she? She can’t even speak yet.”

Sylus tuts in response. “We’ll be arguing all night if you keep this up.” He flicks your forehead gently. “Just… be glad she’s asleep. You sounded pretty overwhelmed, before.”

Your nose wrinkles in your defense. “I had it handled. I just needed to get her settled, is all.”

“Right.” Sylus leans in, tilting his head and squinting. “And are you ever settled, Miss Hunter? ‘You’ and ‘settled’ don’t seem to come to mind when I think of you.”

You squint at him and slump back against the couch. “I’m a Deepspace Hunter. ‘Settled’ and ‘relaxed’ aren't exactly in the job description. But anyway, what does come to mind when you think of me?” Looking at Sylus a little closer, and at that eye that glows a little in the dim twilight, you see him searching your face quietly. He sometimes avoided questions like these. Or left his answers vague. You were dreading the wondering he sometimes left you with. And the yearning.

Long fingers reach out to press against your sternum. You lay back, blinking up at him as your head rests on the couch's armrest. “It’s more of a feeling.” He leans forward, hand gripping the fabric just beside your temple. Sylus leans in, his weight pressing your knees apart to make room. You lay your legs on either side of his waist, eyes closed, letting him part your lips with a thumb. “Relax.” His whisper reaches your ear and you feel your muscles go lax. Slowly, you open your eyes.

Sylus is big. No matter how much you’d heard people raving about wanting a tall man in their life, it was honestly kind of scary. Not to mention—he’s the head of Onychinus. But… you felt bad for feeling scared of him sometimes. It wasn’t as if it was his fault that he was scary-looking.

“You’re thinking.” He mutters as he rubs your bottom lip. The pad of his thumb, though rough, is gentle.

“I didn’t know I wasn’t allowed.” You glance up into his eyes, which narrow in amusement.

“You’re always allowed, silly.” A strand of silver hair tickles your forehead. For a moment, his eyes seem to glance elsewhere. “I only want to know what you’re thinking about.”

“Hm,” you hum, puffing your bottom lip out against his thumb. It earns an airy chuff of a laugh from the both of you. “You’re big.”

“Is this flattery?” He furrows his brow and stares down his nose at you, teasing.

“Yes.” You smile, sliding your arms around his neck. “Will it earn me anything?”

Sylus shakes his head, unable to stop his own crooked smile. “Nothing I wasn’t already going to give you.” His nose brushes past yours and, with a tilt of his head, he presses a kiss to your lips.

You hum in response, following his motions with practiced ease. It wasn’t the first time you’d kissed, nor would it be the last. You knew his song and dance. Sylus was a sweetheart. He tried to be tender but—

A shaky huff through his nose and Sylus’s teeth nip at your lip. There it is. It was kind of an ego boost, honestly. The head of Onychinus got this worked up just from kissing you? You tease him a little, keeping your mouth closed until you hear his nails scrape the couch fabric. When your lips part, you’re met with a needy mouth working against your own. You try to keep up, but it's dizzying and he’s heavy and warm and all-encompassing.

You think he likes it—when you can’t keep up with him anymore and he’s left to give you one final, bruising kiss before he pulls away, flushed.

“That’s what you feel?” You say breathlessly and are nearly interrupted by him leaning down again, this time to nose along your jawline. When he kisses you there, you tense and squeeze your eyes shut. It tickled—sort of—but his teeth sang a different song across your skin. “When you—oh—when you think of me?”

“Of course.” He’d barely lifted his lips from your skin to answer, breath ragged.

You smile faintly, hazy eyes slowly focusing on the portion of bared neck before you. Sylus was right. The world ‘settled’ just didn’t fit you. You tilt your head and lean up a little, lips finding his skin. It feels tougher than your own. Despite this, you wonder—as you lay a couple of kisses and then a bite—if it’s just as sensitive.

Your answer comes in the form of Sylus sucking in a breath and pulling away, head bowed. You can see his ears still, bright red. A triumphant smile spreads onto your lips, though you try and bite them to hide it. When a low chuckle reaches your ears you don't feel as triumphant.

Sylus shifts above you, sliding from that hovering position so that he’s laying his weight on you, chest to chest.

“Umf—heavy—” you strain, patting his back and he continues leaving little lovebites on your neck, slowly switching sides.

“That’s the point, kitten. Just relax. I’ll handle everything.” An amused laugh catches your ear before he kisses that too.

“Okay, I’ll relax just—” you wheeze.

“Am I really that heavy?” Sylus lifts his head to look at your face, brow pinched.

“I’m not exactly six-two and made of muscle—hurry—I think I’m about to lose a lung.” Now you’re just teasing him.

Sylus sits up, shoulders shaking as he holds the back of his hand to his mouth. He’s trying not to laugh at you, lest he wake the baby. “Stay there.” He slides off the couch, smiling. “I’ll get you a blanket.”

“What about you?”

“If I need it too, we’ll share. You won’t mind, right?”

#sylus #love and deepspace #lads #loveanddeepspace #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #love and deep space #lnds #sylus x mc #l&ds #sylus x reader #sylus x you #sylus x y/n #banner creds: cafekitsune

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myungjaes-luvv · 4 months ago

Note

I was thinking about bully! Sunghoon or Jay

One day he gets too angry and horny and decides to fuck you in an empty classroom or a bathroom stall! >_<

wow what a BANGER idea🫠anyway i wrote jay for this one hope you like it!

warnings: jay kind of forces himself on reader but it’s consensual anyway, the nickname ‘doll,’ semi-public?, unprotected sex (but its not explicitly mentioned), kind of rushed towards the end because i lost motivation oops

hard hours + requests: open (bnd, enha, &team)

the sound of the school bell rang through the halls as students scramble to get to their next class. you carefully zip your backpack and sling it over your shoulder, leaving the classroom to get to your last class of the day. at least today was almost over.

you kept to yourself mostly, having a bad tendency of looking at the floor as you walked, avoiding any and all eye contact. you also zoned out…a lot.

you were mid thought, wanting to go home already, to leave this hell on earth when-

“shit- sorry!” you apologized frantically, your notebook flying out of your hands and onto the floor. you didn’t even know who you were apologizing to until you looked up.

fuck.

of all the people you could have ran into, it had to be him.

“watch where you’re going, christ,” jay scoffed at you, watching you kneel down to pick your notebook up.

“sorry…i wasn’t looking-” you tried, but he cut you off.

“yeah, obviously. fucking klutz,” he rolled his eyes as you stood back up.

you went to walk past him to carry on from this horrible interaction but he had blocked you, putting his arm in front of you and pushing you back.

“hey- wait, what are you doing?” you asked him.

you looked up at him, making eye contact with him, confused, and maybe a little scared.

“i think it’s about time i finally put you in your goddamn place,” he scoffed at you.

you were about to protest or ask a question but you didn’t have time to even gather your thoughts before he was shoving you backwards into a dark and empty room, shutting the door behind the both of you.

“what the fuck are you doing jay?” you asked, more scared of your bully now than you ever have been before.

“easy, doll,” he said, sounding way too calm for the situation he has you in.

he soon enough had you backed to the wall, his hands on your hips as your bodies were impossibly close.

this was…weird, and wrong. so incredibly wrong…but why was it so incredibly hot.

you could feel his breath against your skin as his lips just barely grazed over your neck.

“jay what are you-” you tried, but were cut off when he pressed a harsh kiss to your lips. your eyes were wide open as you tried pushing him away, still confused out of your mind as to what was happening.

“damnit, i said i’m putting you in your place, can’t you listen to me?” he said, his voice low.

as if your body had a mind of it’s own, you nodded. why on earth did you nod.

it wasn’t long before he began to palm at your clothed core, you could feel the heat radiating off of you as you bit back a whine.

“wanted you for so long…” he said, hooking his finger into the waistband of your pants and pulling down.

“gonna finally take what’s mine, right, doll?” he asked, though you knew it wasn’t a question you were meant to answer.

his finger slipped between your folds, made easy by how wet you had become. you cursed your body for being so willing for him, feeling as though you had betrayed yourself.

you whined softly as he leaned in close to your ear, “all that because of me?” he teased.

you had a dying urge to push him off of you, but something inside was screaming to let him keep going.

he played with you for what felt like ages before he finally slipped a finger into your entrance, making your legs nearly buckle.

“already needing my help to stand?” he asked, his free hand on your hip to help support you.

you bit back another whine, “fuck…” you said beneath your breath.

he removed his finger, causing you to whine. it wasn’t long before he grabbed your waist and pushed you over one of the desk’s.

he sucked in a sharp breath as he put your ass on display for him, feeling you up. his cock was practically aching to be let free from his pants.

he palmed himself through the material before shuffling his pants down enough to let his dick free from the restraint.

he rubbed himself against your folds, causing you to whine, and not a thought of stopping him was in your mind, so desperate for his cock and you hadn’t even known until now.

“jay, please…” you whimpered.

“that’s right, beg for it,” he said in a low voice.

“please, need you so bad…” you begged him.

he finally slipped inside of you slowly at first.

you gripped the edge of the desk, feeling your legs threaten to give out as he entered you from behind.

he let out a shaky breath himself, “your pussy feels so tight around me, doll…” he commented, starting to push himself in and out of you.

the noises you had started to let out reminded jay of those from a porno, high pitched, whiny, and so fucking hot.

you couldn’t help but start to try and match his pace, fucking yourself back against him. he held your hips and used you for support, driving himself deeper inside of you.

your eyes rolled back as he moved a hand to the front of your pussy and began to rub at your clit.

“gonna cum for me? gonna cum all over my cock,” he teased, speeding his hips up.

you couldn’t even answer or get a thought straight.

“got you so fucked dumb you can’t even speak, so cock hungry,” he said under his breath.

you could feel yourself getting so close, and you craved your release so desperately.

“jay- oh god- fuck…gonna-” you tried between moans.

“go ahead, cum for me, make a mess,” he told you.

after a few more thrusts, you were coming, your legs shaking, needing his full support to keep you up against the desk. he fucked you through it heavenly and as you clenched around him, he neared his release.

“gonna cum, holy shit,” he panted, fucking you roughly, causing your vision to white out.

he pulled out, fucking his fist to get himself to release before coming over your back and your ass, the sight almost enough to get him hard again.

the two of you caught your breath and cleaned yourselves up in almost complete silence, and before he left, you were about to make a comment until he spoke first.

“watch where you’re walking next time, klutz.”

#enhypen hard hours #jay hard thoughts #enhypen smut #jay smut

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cheriladycl01 · 6 months ago

Text

Back in my Day - Fernando Alonso x AustralianOlympicBoxing! Reader

Plot: Becoming a full time paddock WAG after pregnancy and a bad boxing injury and how you wouldn’t change anything in your life!

“Do you ever miss it?” He asks as he joins you in the motor home after just going fastest in FP2. He starts to pull you into a little sweaty hug, which you don’t mind as your used to it with you both being athletes.

“Miss what?” You ask walking round cleaning up after your guys son and daughter who were currently out getting ice cream with the mechanics.

“The adrenaline of a fight, the way the gloves feel, the smell of the ring?” He asks with a distant look in his eyes.

“Of course I do, sometimes I wish I could go back just to see if I’ve still got it. But there’s more important things in my life now than boxing and … I’ve made my country proud. I want to focus on everything I missed out on when I was younger. I want to see the world with you and our kids and I want to be a present mum you know, not of fighting in a boxing ring every week” you sigh, squatting while looking up at him, half cleaning half giving him your attention.

A loud sigh comes from his as he sets himself on the sofa.

“Why what’s got you thinking about this” you ask, standing up and taking a seat next to him with a pat on his thigh.

“I just … sometimes I think back to the incident with you and how worried I was seeing you that injured. I mean … I thought you died in that ring and I know it can’t be easy to watch me in the car and I’m just thinking maybe … maybe it’s time I think about retiring?” He asks almost quietly like he’s afraid to admit what he truly had been thinking.

“Fernando it wouldn’t surprise me if your 60 and racing and scaring the living daylights out of me” you laugh looking over him.

“I’m being serious, I’ve seen how … attentive you are with the kids … and me and I think it’s time I want that life too. I’ve been playing a F1 playboy for far to long. I want to come home, wherever that is as long as I’m with you, you are my home” he smiles and tears fill your eyes.

“Fernando I love you” you kiss him.

“How do you deal with not having it in your life anymore?” He asks into your neck, making it come out a bit muffled.

“Well I have a lot of other stuff that I focus on. And I still do it, I teach it in a gym to kids and I do training in our gym so it’s not fully gone. And the feeling of winning and improving after a loss is something that is more nostalgic than anything. I don’t miss it necessarily, but it’s nice to look back on and think of what I did. Winning gold twice and silver once!” You smile, looking up in a thoughtful way.

“Hmmmmm that sounds, kind of peaceful” he offers and you laugh a little.

“Yeah I guess you could say it is. But Fernando, racing is a part of you, like boxing IS a part of me. It never really leaves you, no matter whether that’s because you continue until you physically can’t and break the record for oldest racing driver, or you own a karting track in Spain and train the next generation … or you become a manager for our son who no doubt will be a world champion with the way he looks up to you or even doing a Nico Rosberg and become a journalist… but baby, the world of F1 will never ever leave you” you assure your husband.

“You’ve made me even more confused on my deduction now” he sighs laughing and rubbing a hand over his face.

“Well whatever that decision is, I’ll be here for you” you smile.

“You know, I remember that one time, I think it was the 2012 Olympics in London, before the accident when you were so convinced you weren’t going to get gold and then you just all of a sudden had this ambition in your eyes … what was that” he asks.

“You, honesty. Your pep talk” you smile kissing his cheek.

“What do you think I should do?” He asks looking at you with the face of a lost puppy.

“That’s not a choice I can make for you my love” you smile at him patting his head leaving him to his thoughts while you go to find the kids.

Fernando stays with his own thoughts for a little before he saunters out to go find you.

As he rounds a corner he sees you messing about with the kids and Lance and it’s a sight to behold. One he can’t help but think he misses far to often.

But was he truly ready to give up his career.

“Papa” your daughter cries running over to her father the 6 year old not knowing much better than to rush off into the busy paddock lane to get to her father.

“Hello beautiful” he smiles as he picks her up, nuzzling her nose with his doing an Eskimo Kiss that they had done since she was just a baby.

Once his son came up to him, offering him an ice cream, that was starting to melt a little and starting to tell him how amazing he raced today his choice was clearer than ever.

Family came first.

y/user

Liked by fernandoalo_oficial and astonmartinf1

y/user: Life Recently. Love my kids, guess the husband is okay 👍🏼

Tagged 1 Person

View all 341 comments

astonmartinf1: MOTHER 👏🏼

fan1: omg I want her life so bad

fernandoalo_oficial: my gorgeous wife! I will ignore the caption!

-> y/user: you know I joke 🥰

fan2: her and Fernando bantering makes my life

lancestroll: when will I get to see the kids again!

-> y/user: next race my first son 🤣🫶🏼

-> fan3: Y/N and Fernandos first child Lance Alonso

hater1: gold digger

-> y/user: more like gold medalist … 🥇

Instagram Story Caption:

Back at it mate 🫶🏼 🇦🇺

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfiction #fernando alonso fluff #fernando alonso x you #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso imagine #fernando alonso fanfic #fernando alonso #fa14 fanfic #fa14 fic #fa14 imagine #fa14 x reader #fa14

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thebearer · 1 year ago

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the milestones menu: nonna berzatto's homemade pasta

prompt: yours and carmen's first "i love you".

contains: fluff, general fluff. some mentions to dead relatives, carmen's self doubt, but very minimal bc it's very fluffy :)

2 cups of flour- Semolina.

4 Large Eggs

Pinch of Salt

Put flour into a mound. Make a center, and add the eggs to the middle. Whisk slowly with a fork, gradually working it in little at a time until nice and thick. Knead the mixture for about ten minutes. Let it rest in the fridge for thirty minutes. Put it in a ball, and roll it out very thin.

“Can’t believe you never had homemade pasta.” Carmen shook his head, blue eyes peeking out from under the mess of curls.

“Nope.” You shook your head, grinning over the crystal wine glass, sipping your riesling slowly. “Strictly a boxed pasta girl.”

“Fuckin’ criminal.” Carmen grinned, a playful, lopsided smirk that had you blushing.

The counter was covered in flour, stopping just where you rested, propped up on the granite while Carmen worked. Your eyes trained on his hands, hands that stirred the eggs into the flour, kneaded the dough until your thighs were clenching.

“My Nonna is rollin’ in her grave right now, you know that?” Carmen pulled you from your gaze, rolling out the dough.

“Noooo, don't say that.” You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re making me feel bad, Carmen. I swear I thought Olive Garden made fresh pasta.”

Carmen laughed, a little shy but louder now- more himself. He’d blossomed with you lately, unveiling new parts of himself every single day. “‘M just kiddin’, baby.” Carmen hummed, eyes cutting to you a little skeptical. “Sorry, I-I didn’t mean to sound like an asshole. That sounded douchey, right?”

You smiled, setting your glass behind you. “No, I was just messin’ with you, bear.” The nickname- his nickname. Hearing it more and more roll from your tongue, each time his heart skipped harder than the last.

“Is this her recipe?” You asked, picking up the faded recipe card, looped cursive on the aged paper. “Your Nonna’s?”

“Yeah,” Carmen nodded. “I, uh, so when I left to go to culinary school, right? She was sick, and… and I think she, like, knew that when I went to New York that would be the last time she saw me.” Carmen’s face dropped, slow and sad, it made your own heart sink.

“So she-she gave me all these recipe books and-and cards that were hers. We used to cook together a lot. She taught me how to cook, y’know? My mom and dad were always at the restaurant and didn’t want to cook when they got home. They didn’t want me in the restaurant either so I spent a lot of time with her.” Carmen muttered. You could see the memories playing behind his eyes.

You liked to picture that version of Carmen, a little boy with wild curls, helping his Nonna cook. Happy memories.

“That’s sweet.” You smiled, leaning against the cabinets. “She did a really good job. You know she’s so insanely proud of you.”

Carmen snorted, shaking his head lightly. “Yes, she is. Everyone’s proud of you, Carmen… I’m proud of you.” You hesitate, eyes scanning his features. It was true, of course, but handling Carmen sometimes was like handling a frightened animal. You were never sure what would make him scatter away in fear.

Carmen swallowed thickly, cheeks flushed red, lips in a tight line. “T-Thanks.” Carmen muttered, wiping his hands on his apron, tossing the flour back into his clammy hands.

“She, uh, she woulda loved you, y’know.” Carmen’s eyes met yours, intense and piercing. “I wish you coulda met her.”

“Yeah, me too.” You nod. “I would’ve loved to hear all the baby Carmen cooking stories. I bet she had some good ones.” You smiled, bright and wide- perfect. It made Carmen’s brain numb.

“Yeah, she would.” Carmen nodded, hands stilling, still buried in the dough.

He felt it in his bones, his heart, consuming his thoughts. The overwhelming need he’d felt for weeks, since the first time you kissed him really, that he’d been fighting- too scared to say. What he felt every time he looked at you, when he thought about you.

“Um, I-I wanna say something, and-and I don’t know if I should even fuckin’ say this or-or if it’s… fuck, if you-you feel the same or I just, I don’t wanna fuck this up because this is like the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and-and I’m workin’ on not ruinin’ good shit in my life and bein’ ok with it like-like my therapist says ya know, but-” Carmen rambled, words spilling out in fast, overwhelming bouts that took you by surprise.

Carmen flustered, reaching a dough covered hand to his face, the sticky batter catching on his brows and hair. He flushed deeply, hands shaking in embarrassment, cursing under his breath. “F-Fuck, I-I’m sorry. I-I, nevermind, it’s not… I don’t know why-why I would-” His hands trembled, body shaking with anger and embarrassment. Way to fuckin’ go, Berzatto, you fuckin’ ruin it. That’s all you ever do, Carmen thought bitterly, wiping his hands off on the cloth.

“Carm,” You said softly, your voice a beacon in the raging sea of his mind, pulling him out of his own harsh thoughts.

Carmen turned, a fury flush of pure embarrassment that burnt all down his cheeks to his chest. Eyes soft and wary, hesitant like he was doomed, destined for the worse.

You slide off the counter easily, grabbing the spare towel, bringing it to his eyebrows, wiping the dough off gently. The softness of your touch soothed Carmen, lulling his hammering heart- he didn’t see your own shaking hands, filled with your own adrenaline nerves.

You stood in front of him, eyes on the other, careful and watching- unsure. “I-I love you, too.” Your breath hitched, squeezing the words out in a nervous tumble. Carmen didn’t move, body going rigid, heart stopping entirely. The ringing was back in his ears, clouding his brain so loudly he was sure he heard you wrong.

“I’ve wanted to say it for a while, too, but didn’t…” You shook your head, heat in your own cheeks, eyes casting down to his dough covered hand. “I didn’t know if-if you felt that or if- I don’t know, I didn’t want to seem crazy or obsessive if it was too soon, and-and scare you.”

“No,” Carmen croaked, tongue thick in his own mouth. “No, I-I mean- fuck,” Carmen shook his head, looking to the wall. He needed a second, words jumbled in his mouth, heart racing, so high off the adrenaline he felt like he could combust at any moment.

“I-I was gonna say that too.” Carmen nodded, the quirk in your lips making his heart lurch. “That I love you. I was- yeah, I love you. I-I have for a while.”

“Really?” You whispered, voice tiny and excited, like it was a secret just for the two of you. Maybe it was.

“Yeah, fuck yeah.” Carmen let out a breathy, shaky laugh. “I love you, and-and I just love you so much it makes my brain hurt sometimes.”

“Me too.” You grin, a hand pressing to his cheek. “I love you.” The phrase you’d repressed for so long, deprived yourself of saying now spilled out of you like a mantra- like that was all you could say now.

Carmen grinned, brain bubbly and light. He let you pull him into a kiss, head tilting down, lips molding over yours so they fit perfectly.

Later over plates of Bologonese, you grinned across the table from Carmen. “If I didn’t tell you I loved you before, I definitely would now.” You moaned, pointing at the plate. “I really was missing out.”

Carmen beamed under your praise, gooey and love drunk off your words- off you. He knew Viola Berzatto, wherever she was, was boasting with pride.

And he knew his Nonna would have loved you too.

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themusingsofacurlyhairednerd · 3 months ago

Text

In Love and War (8)

Summary: The aftermath of all her family secrets might be more chaotic than Reader bargained for when her powers suddenly start to flare. Good thing her Warlord has more than a few ideas how to help navigate it ;)

Content Warnings: Depressive thoughts, Reader mentions wanting to die; Suggestiveness, Slight SMUT; Canon Typical Violence

Author's Note: To make up for the last chapter being so short, please enjoy that flirty little bastard being a menace! ;)

Chapter 7/Masterlist

---------------

I don’t sleep at all that night. I lay there, Rhysand sleeping soundly beside me, exhausted from the events of the last couple of days. He’d barely kept his eyes open long enough to eat. I’d barely managed to choke down a few bites myself. The guilt has my stomach in a perpetual knot. I’ve dedicated so much of my life to hating this male, only to be wrong about all of it, and now I’m in too deep to even do anything about it. I can’t go home. There is no home to go back to. My family slaughtered an innocent mother and daughter. Rhys received their heads in boxes like some sort of twisted gift. They were supposed to be allies and my father betrayed them in the worst possible way. He paid for it with his life, with my mother’s life; it should have been the end of it. Tamlin was given a mercy and he should have taken it. He should have abandoned my father’s teachings and become a better lord, a better man. Instead, he perpetuated the cycle of abuse and suffering. He encouraged me to hate these people, to covet everything they had as if they were undeserving of it. All these years I loathed our miserable existence thinking the Mother hated us and was being unjust in giving these people all these things that we were never allowed. But we deserved it! We were the bad guys all along.

I roll over onto my side to look at him. He still sleeps in his armor, knife still strapped to his thigh, sword resting against the tent pole only a foot away. He’s ready to be up and fighting in a moment's notice. Our father’s were so similar, and yet, he turned out to be merciful and kind and somehow, so startlingly gentle that I often forget he’s still capable of intense prowess. He is the only male I’ve ever truly felt comfortable with, because that gentleness came as a response to the violence he’d seen, not because that violence was never there. He’d felt the cold sting of it, and chose to be something gentle instead of returning it.

And here I am, with all that righteous anger that had kept me warm on my coldest days, choosing to return all the violence that had been inflicted on me onto others. Just as Tamlin did. Just as my father did.

And looking at it I don’t want to be him. He ruined my mother! He took something good and kind and locked it away and used her for his own ends! I don’t even know if he ever really loved her. Why would you keep the things you love in a cage?

I sit up abruptly. Maybe he was as scared of being alone as I am.

I can’t sit in this tent anymore! I can’t-

Rhysand jolts awake as soon as I move, hand twitching for his knife, shadows swirling off his body in response to what his sleep muddled mind thinks is a threat. “What’s wrong?”

I put a hand on his chest, spinning onto my knees so I can kiss his forehead. “Nothing, I just need to relieve myself.”

He lets me push him down onto the mat, body relaxing and pliant beneath my touch. “You sure?”

“Positive.” If he tried to follow me out now I think I really might explode. My stomach feels like it's ripping itself apart. My bones ache, my skin feels like it's stretched too tight over them. There is too much nervous energy bound inside my body. I just need to get out and stretch my legs; get some fresh air and clear my head. I will be fine if I can clear my head.

“Take your knife,” he says, eyes already drifting shut again.

I strap it to my thigh as I slip from the tent, gulping down lungfuls of crisp, mountain air as I go. I just need to clear my head. Is finding a way to survive this fucked up world really me acting like my father? I’ve never killed innocent people. I’ve never withheld necessities or lorded my power over people. I’m just not being honest about my intentions. It’s shitty. I’m using a mating bond I’m still not wholly sure is real as a means to getting food and shelter and, hopefully, a decent helping of mind blowing sex.

Cauldron that sounds really, really fucked up.

But how am I supposed to tell him? Hey, I know that you really don’t like my family and they’ve done nothing but screw you over but I also accepted your offer to try and ruin your life and take all of your land and kinda only just changed my mind about it yesterday. And it would be really super cool if you just let that slide because I have nowhere else to go.

That would go over soooooo well. He’d be totally fine with it!

I ground my palms into my eyes as I walk behind a couple trees to at least make it look like I really did need to go pee. There are men on guard duty, no doubt someone is going to see me wandering around camp.

My brain feels like it’s being squeezed by my skull. There has to be a way to go about this that doesn’t get me tossed out into the coming snow, while also not lying so deeply about it. I do care about him. It was a lie at first but now…

I put my back against the tree and slide down until I’m sitting on the rocky ground, head still in my hands. I don’t know if he’s my mate. There’s something there, I feel it pulling at me, even now, but I can’t give it a name. And I want to be here. Not just because of the story he’d told yesterday. When Lucien tried to get me to leave, I really didn’t want to go back with him. But how am I supposed to live with the truth? How am I supposed to look at him and see that he wants this so much more than I do, despite everything?

Actually, why does he want this, despite everything? He’d asked me why I stayed. I never asked him why he brought me here. There’s certainly enough bad blood between our families to make even a mate hesitate to bring me in.

I lean back against the tree, the rough scrape of the bark against my aching skin a relief. My body feels so strange, being around Rhysand’s magic has made it feel like there’s something beneath my skin.

Tomorrow, in the morning, I will ask him why he still brought me back. Then I will decide what to do.

------

He certainly doesn’t make asking him easy. Rhys wakes me up with his lips on my throat, along the fading marks he’d left a couple days before, trailing them down as his hands hike up my sweater. The heat of him against the early morning chill has my resolve slipping, all my plans slipping through my fingers as he runs his tongue over my peaked nipples.

I can’t think past the roaring in my ears; the ache in my body for more, more, more. There is nothing and no one but him as he trails lower, each kiss more forceful than the last as he heads for the waistband of my pants.

“Rhys,” I moan, voice still thick with sleep, even as my body arches under him. I want him everywhere. I need him everywhere. The stirring feeling beneath my skin is worse today, only quelled by the trail of his hands on my body. For once, my racing thoughts are quiet. If only we could stay like this.

“Hmmm,” he hums into my stomach, just beneath my navel. There’s a bit of stubble along his jaw, the scrape of it against my oversensitive skin makes my eyes roll back into my head. “Did you want something, mate?”

“You,” I groan, hand reaching out to tangle in his hair to try and move him where I need him.

He grins, I can feel the upturn of his lips against my stomach, but he refuses to budge. Just nips at the skin visible above my waistline. “You have me.”

Bastard! My whole body trembles beneath him. I can’t get a breath down fast enough. I need him everywhere all at once. “Need you inside me,” I bite out.

He simply hums again, hands tugging at my waistband with an inhumane slowness that makes me feel like I’m going to burst out of my skin. I use the hand not in his hair to grip the mat, trying to ground myself, trying to find some semblance of control again. I’m gripping so tight my bones ache, fingers feeling like they’re breaking. There’s a tearing sound, a pricking sensation in my palm and then a gush of something wet across my hand.

Even he looks up at that, and when I turn to look, I’m more than a little surprised to find that I’ve grown claws, and I’ve just tore them right through my hand!

“Shit!” He’s gone from between my legs in an instant, all the heat in my body leaving with him.

I can’t unfurl my hand. Can’t retract the claws, they’re stuck through my palm with my fist closed around it. I’ve only ever grown them in anger, how the hell had I done it now?

Rhysand comes back with a towel as I manage to sit up. “I thought you smelled different this morning,” he muses.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I hiss.

“Our magic can be protective. It can hide itself if it doesn’t feel safe. I don’t think you were born with too little, I think you were born with too much.” His fingers massage my wrist, trying to find the right pressure points to help me unclench my fist. “I think that it buried itself inside you to keep you safe. And I think, now that you’re here, it’s manifesting, and like the wards, it has its own scent.”

Fan-fucking-tastic!

“Well I’d like it to un-manifest,” I hiss. “I was doing just fine without it!” There’s blood dripping through the towel, if anything it feels like my claws are burrowing deeper into my palm. I can practically feel them trying to tear right through the back of my hand.

He can’t seem to find the right spot and trying to pry my fingers out of my palm is a no go. He frowns, lifting the towel for a better look. “I’m gonna try something.”

I’m prepared for a blow from his own magic, some form of glittering starlight or shadowy darkness, I am not prepared for him to kiss me again. The sound I make in surprise is somewhere between a growl and a gasp because what the hell is he doing? But even though my head is struggling to catch up, my body is not. On instinct, I lean back to allow him better access, his tongue slipping behind my teeth. The rolling feeling beneath my skin lessens, the tightness in my palm slowly releasing. I thread my functioning hand through his hair as my body gives what I can only describe as a sigh of relief. A moment later, the claws retract and I can finally unfurl my fist.

“Flair ups can be heavily tied to your emotions,” he says, lips barely off mine. “Probably wasn’t the best idea to tease you in the middle of one.”

It takes him all of thirty seconds to find some rags and tie up my hand, even though the blood flow is already lessening. All I can do is stare at it while he does it. This is certainly a new and unwelcome development to this whole mess.

“Is that going to keep happening?”

Azriel pops his head into our tent, unannounced as usual. “Are you two done in here or what? I, personally, cannot live with Cassian if he beats us around the mountain.”

“We’ll be right there,” Rhysand huffs.

“I’m seeing a trend with him,” I mutter.

He smirks, “It’s one of Azriel’s many charms.”

He helps me to my feet, holding onto me like he thinks something else might just burst out of my skin. Truth be told, I can still feel something shifting around, a prowling animal begging to be released from its cage. I’d thought it was my unease this whole time, but maybe it’s worse than that.

“We don’t know how deep your power well is,” Rhysand says. “And if it’s never fully manifested…” He blows out a breath. “When mine first started manifesting, I shredded a whole section of camp with starlight. There was a whole twenty-four hour period where my shadows blocked out the sun. And you’re my equal so, yes I think that will keep happening.”

Cauldron boil me!

“As long as you remain calm, it shouldn’t be too bad.”

“I should think you would know better than to tell a female to be calm, Rhysand.”

He grins, “Well you can also spend the day making out with me, since that seems to be such a lovely little distraction with you.”

I go to hiss an insult at him but the only thing that comes out is an actual, animal-like growl. I clamp a hand over my mouth in embarrassment while he bursts out laughing.

“This is going to be fun!” He declares.

I am not at all inclined to agree.

----

I only manage to ride with him for an hour or two before the pull of his magic makes my skin start to itch. He was right about magic having a scent. Half way through the hour I suddenly become very aware of the jasmine scent of him. It’s everywhere. In every breath. Every brush of his chest against my back, every movement of his hands along the reins. My body is hyper aware of every place we do and don’t touch.

“Getting all worked up again, aren’t we?” He purrs in my ear.

My jaw feels like it’s snapping as a set of fangs tear through my gums, spurting blood into my mouth. Somehow his magic is the catalyst for my transformation and the balm all in one. I can’t be near him and I can’t be away from him, as I soon learn. When I jump off the horse and declare I’m going to walk beside him, my claws return, in both hands this time. At least they shoot out my nail beds and not my knuckles like Tamlin’s.

The thought of him makes another growl rumble through my chest and something that feels suspiciously like fur sprouts from the back of my neck.

“Wouldn’t recommend,” Rhysand warns.

The itchiness of my skin is even worse on the ground. I feel the wards tugging at me like I’ve been tied to the glittering magic that builds them with a string. The jasmine and overripe fruit scent of them is enough to make my nose crinkle. Apparently the transformation heightens my senses as well.

“I’m gonna tear off my skin,” I snarl, fidgeting with my collar. Why is it so itchy? Is it supposed to be like this?

He slows his mount to keep pace with me and I do not miss the grumbled complaints of the males behind us. My ears twitch every time one of them speaks, the sound sometimes like a shout and others like a far off echo.

“Breathe,” he says gently. “The more worked up you get, the worse it will be until we can find a way to safely expel it.”

I draw a shaky breath, then another.

“Good girl.”

A shiver works its way up my spine at that.

“Now come here,” he leans so far out of the saddle he’s only holding on with his thighs, and my first thought is how we can get this little caravan to pause so I can be the one beneath him. He gets an arm around my waist and hauls me back up onto the horse and damn if that’s not the hottest thing I’ve ever seen a male do!

“Let’s get these wards up-” I’m hyper-aware how every word rumbles through his chest, the way his body shifts on the horse. “-And we’ll find a place to camp soon enough, then you and I can work on this.”

“Make it stop,” I gently beg. “I don’t want it!” The itch beneath my skin is becoming unbearable! My claws scratch up my arms, tearing up my sweater.

His free hand covers mine, intertwining our fingers, even as the horse begins to move. “Focus on me.”

I focus my attention on the way his body molds against mine. The way the leather of his glove slides over the back of my hand. I let my eyes drift shut, focusing on the brush of his chest against mine, the swaying motion of his hips as the horse moves over the rocky terrain. It’s not enough. Not like the feel of his lips on mine had been this morning. As if he knows it, he drops his head against my shoulder, nose brushing over the exposed skin of my throat.

“I’m right here,” he continues. “Focus on me, just like you did this morning.”

This morning there had been a lot less clothes between us.

“Breathe for me.”

It is a physical effort to draw a deep enough breath in; another to pull my claws away from my itching skin. He settles our joined hands against my stomach.

“Again.”

I manage to do what I am told, just barely.

“Good. Just like that.” His voice makes a shiver run down my spine as my mind spins with all the other things I want him to talk me through. I think I could do just about anything if he explained it to me in that rich, husky voice he was using in my ear. “Part of learning to control it is finding your center. Find a safe mental space to retreat to.”

“Like what?” There are few places in the world I have ever felt safe. Thinking about how I used to sit in the rocking chair with my mother and listen to her stories only fills me with pain now. Or perhaps a couple weeks ago I might have thought about all those summers I spent at the creek with Lucien, but now it only makes the thing beneath my skin rumble and shake like there’s some sort of animal that lives caged beneath my ribs and is trying desperately to break free. What makes me feel safe?

“A good memory, a happy time,” he lists.

I have nothing. My eyes start to water and my throat starts to close, talons growing longer and sharper at my fingertips. I feel the give of my leather chest-piece beneath them. Everything good in my life has been a lie! Everyone that was supposed to protect me only ever hurt me in the end. None of it was ever real.

And this, this thing that could be something, that could be real, I had ruined it. I have to lie to keep it. I have to pretend that I had every right to hurt him, when it was really the other way around. The only person who had ever told me the truth, who could see me for what I was, and I had ruined any chance of it being real before it had even had the chance to start.

A sob slips out of me and with it, the tree we pass erupts in a flurry of leaves and twisting, screaming bark that makes the horse rear. The earth rumbles, random cracks splitting in the rock face, gnarled vines crawling out of them like tentacled monsters. The itching in my skin won’t stop! The more I try to trap it the more the world around us screams in protest.

“Breathe, Y/N,” Rhysand orders in my ear. “You have to breathe.”

“I can’t!” I choke out.

He slides his hand out of mine and brings it up against the side of my temple. It feels like a shadow unfurling from his fingertips, but the brush of it is not against my face, but inside my skull. Darkness clouds my vision from the inside out. It feels as if my brain is being emptied, piece by piece with shadows until there is nothing inside my mind but him.

“Breathe,” he commands, the voice of a Warlord. “Now.”

I choke on each breath.

“You are safe, Y/N,” he says, gentler. There is nothing in the world but the two of us in this dark little bubble. Nothing but the press of night chilled jasmine and calming, all consuming night. From somewhere far off, I hear music on the wind, the swell of stringed instruments pulling my attention away from the itch running beneath my skin.

“Why is this happening?” My body feels so impossibly small, yet like it’s being stretched beyond its capacity, my bones trying to tear through the confines of my skin all the same.

“Our powers can very easily get tangled with our emotions,” he explains, the hand on my temple drawing shapes into my skin. Somehow, after looking at the stitches in the tent walls, I know he’s spelling something out in Illyrian, but I’ll never know what. “The last twenty-four hours have been a lot for you, I’m sure.”

There is no room to think about it in this headspace, no twisted memories to plague me, only the music and the faint twinkle of stars for company. I let myself fall into it, let it swallow me and fill me until I feel disconnected from the pulling of my skin.

“I don’t want this power,” I whisper into the darkness.

The darkness caresses me, wraps itself around me as surely as his arm around my waist. “I know, but we don’t get a say in what we’re given, only what we do with it.”

When have I ever truly had a say in anything?

“What if I hurt somebody?” What if I am just as bad as my father in both intentions and power? If I am capable of plotting to ruin someone’s life based on a lie, how much more capable am I of turning these claws on someone else? Maybe power is passed from my mother, but that will never change the fact that I now carry the same weapons that were used to scar me, and Rhys, and probably his mother and sister.

“You won’t,” he assures. “I’ll be right here to teach you. You can control it.”

He has far more faith in me than he should.

----

Once we’ve stopped for the night and camp is set up, Rhysand takes me by the hand and leads me out into the empty, grassy plains beneath the mountain. The knee-high yellow blades are brittle this time of year, cracking under our boots as we walk until only the smoke from the campfires pinpoints where we left the others. We’re far enough away that I won’t hurt anyone if I lose control again.

Shame flushes my cheeks. I’ve always prided myself on being the calm one of the family; always able to keep my emotions shoved deep down beneath the surface to keep them from getting the better of me. I thought I was good at it. I was wrong. It’s only been the constant brush of Rhysand’s shadows against my mind all afternoon that have kept me from tearing everything I touch to shreds. Even now, my hands ache from often my new claws have sprung and retracted from my fingertips.

I must feel about as awful as Rhysand looks. The circles under his eyes have not lessened in the slightest, and every once in a while I’ll see him start to sway, like it’s an effort to stay on his feet. The scent of his magic has lessened, the night blooming jasmine fading behind the citrus and salty scent of him. He shouldn’t be out here with me, he should be resting, recharging his own magic so he can be prepared for more warding tomorrow. According to Azriel and the scouts’ reports, we should meet up with Cassian and Mor’s group by this time tomorrow and Rhysand will need all his energy to ensure both ends of the wards are fully meshed together.

We stop once we’re cushioned between two large hills, nothing but the chirp of crickets and the stars to keep us company. The Mountain looms dark and shadowy beneath the small sliver of the moon.

“This looks like a good place,” he says as he finally releases my hand.

I keep my lower lip between my teeth, hands shaking at my sides. I don’t want to do this! Entertaining the idea that I have powers to train and use is foolish. I don’t need to learn to use them; I need to learn to shove them back down into the darkest parts of me where they can’t hurt anybody.

“Let’s start with something simple,” he suggests. “Tell me where you feel your power the most.”

My hand comes up to poke between my rib cage, where the stirring and itchy feeling is the most concentrated. “Feels like something is trying to break out of my skin,” I say softly.

“The claws and the fangs could be a beast form,” he muses. “Or it could just be some shape-shifting powers you inherited from your father?”

The mention of that bastard makes the stirring in my chest feel like a tidal wave, raw energy crackling so hard and fast through my veins that I feel it crest out my fingertips. The grass around me withers and dies, the ground beneath it crackling and rumbling with what feels like the early stages of an earthquake. I can’t have powers like my fathers!

There is no shortage of pity in those violet eyes and I press my palms into my eyes with a groan. I can’t do this! It needs to stop! I need to bury it now before it runs away with me; while I still have some control over it. Because if it goes any further than this…

Maybe Tamlin was right to send me away. Maybe he did know about my powers and that was why he got rid of me. I couldn’t hurt anybody if I was alone in the woods.

Rhysands shadows drift along the floor until they can slither up my calves, rubbing affectionately against me in a way that reminds me of a cat. “It’s ok,” he soothes.

Tears stream down my cheeks. “Make it stop!” I beg. “Show me how to bury it again.”

His shadows trail higher, winding over my hips and waist, even as he steps closer, leaving barely a breath between us. “Y/N…” he shakes his head, trying to find the right words and I feel a strange pang beneath the movement in my chest.

“Please,” I whimper. “I’ll do anything! Just make it stop.”

He cups my cheek and I give myself the briefest moment to fall into the warmth of his touch. “I know it’s scary, and that it hurts, but this is good. It has to be released. You will die if you don’t.”

Then let me. The words freeze on my tongue when a tendril of his power flicks over his shoulder, down his wrist, to brush against my cheek, but that doesn’t stop the spiraling of my thoughts. Let me be free of this pain. Let me go out before I become a monster like my father. Let that awful bastard be right; let me be useless and worthless and incapable of doing anything he could be proud of.

As if spurred on by my thoughts, the grass around me continues to wither, until there’s a whole circle of dead earth surrounding me. The harder I try to draw it in, the wider the circle becomes. Power sizzle through my nerve endings, a fire that digs itself into my veins and when I curl my hands into fists to try and stop it, I pull weeds through the cracks in the earth, the gnarled, leafy branches reaching up like skeletal hands that wrap around my, and Rhysand’s ankles.

“Focus on that spot,” his free hand taps gently against my ribs. “Focus until it feels like you’re holding it.”

I try to imagine the power like a bowl filled with sloshing, dark liquid. I imagine myself reaching for the lip of the bowl, the cracked edges and rough wood a mirror to the one that used to sit on our kitchen table, full of apples I’d sneak when no one was looking. If I make it familiar, it feels easier to focus on. I imagine every crack in the bowl, every worn edge, focusing until I get a mental hold around the edges. Now all I need to do is tip the bowl over. If I spill out its contents, there will be nothing left inside me to unleash… right?

“Once you can hold it, focus on containing it. Imagine it like a bottle, get all that energy into the bottle, and put a lid on the top,” Rhys says like he can hear my plans.

The liquid inside the bowl bubbles and hisses as my conflicted feelings run circles through my head. He hasn’t been wrong this far, I should do as he says, but I can’t help but feel like indulging this is a mistake. I can hear my father’s voice inside my head, telling me that this is not how females are supposed to behave.

I can feel the weeds I’d summoned dying around me. Can feel every blade of grass as if it was somehow attached to my skin. The longer I hold that imaginary bowl, the more aware of this power I become, but it doesn’t feel like control. It just feels like more things pulling at me, trying to move me in directions I’ve never decided I want to go in.

The ground rumbles beneath my boots again as my mental grip slips, and when I open my eyes the weeds, dead as they are now, have slithered all the way up my chest, reaching for my throat like some decrypt hand.

The air leaves my lungs in a rush and with it, the dead vegetation crumbles and turns to dust on the wind.

Rhysand should be looking at me like I’m a monster. He should be stepping away, shadows swirling, that giant sword in hand. We are supposed to be enemies and he should be looking at me like I am one. But he’s not. He reaches out and brushes some of the ruined plant off my shoulder instead.

“It’s ok,” he assures. “No one gets it on their first try. Not even me.”

That compassion and understanding makes my chest ache worse than any restless power ever has. I don’t deserve it. I wish he would treat me like the horrible creature I am. He would be better off if he tossed me out into the woods like Tam.

He stiffens and I can’t help but wonder if I accidentally said that out loud because his eyes darken as he closes the gap between us and takes my face in his hands. “Maybe I’m taking the wrong approach.” His voice is clipped, husky.

Good, maybe he can finally see me for what I really am.

I am wholly unprepared for him to crash his lips against mine. My brain short circuits, the agitation I feel morphing into that desperate, needy thing I had felt this morning. Just as I tilt my head back, lips parting to let him in, he pulls back.

“Let’s play a game.”

The power in my chest feels like it’s going to rip out of my skin again.

“Match what I do and you’ll get a reward,” he explains. “If you can’t…” He takes a step back and it is an effort not to chase after him, but the message is clear enough: Matching his efforts means his hands, his lips, his body is on me again, fail to do so, and he puts space between us. It shouldn’t work. It shouldn’t make me want to try, but I do. Gods I do!

“Ok,” my voice shakes a little. In the back of my mind I still think it’s a bad idea. Maybe I will regret it in the end, but this thing between us is the only thing that makes sense. There is nothing between us when his lips are on mine. I need that distraction tonight.

He holds out a hand and a ball of shadows emerge, the tendrils of darkness crawling out from beneath his skin to form the swirling shape. “Find that spot in your chest and push it into your hand. It’s a part of you, it answers to you. Make it answer to you.”

I hold out my hand, matching his position and then close my eyes, reaching for that bowl of darkness again. Hesitantly, I tip it sideways, sloshing some of the dark liquid over the edge and imagine pulling it through my limbs. It makes my muscles spasm, my claws shooting out of my nail beds in defense.

“Breathe through it, you’ll pass out if you hold your breath.”

Selfishly, I want to impress him. Want to show him I can. I want the reward of his lips on mine again. Want to not have to think about whether I should be doing this or that, the only thought in my head him and how good he feels. I do as he says, drawing in a breath as I keep pushing that bit of darkness in the direction I want it. It makes my head hurt, trying to focus so intently, but I’m nothing if not persistent.

I feel the rumble of movement beneath my palm, and just when I’m starting to think that maybe I’m more capable than I thought, the tiniest, most wilted looking dandelion grows from my palm. And then immediately turns to ash. It’s the saddest excuse for power I’ve ever seen and I growl out a complaint like a literal beast as even the thing in my chest shows its disappointment.

Rhysand snorts out a laugh too, which makes it worse.

So much for powerful.

He clears his throat as he steps back into my space. “It was a good attempt.”

“Don’t patronize me,” I hiss. “That was embarrassing.”

He wraps his hand around my wrist and places his lips against my palm anyway, never mind that my claws are still out and drifting over his temple as he kisses right where my powers flared. “You still tried.”

I shiver at the contact of his plush lips against my skin, his breath warm against my palm. My senses are still incredibly heightened and even that bit of contact makes my skin buzz with excitement.

He quirks a dark brow as he looks at me from where my hand is still pressed against his lips. “Try again for me?”

I nod, not trusting my voice when he’s looking at me like he wants to devour me. His pupils are blown wide, barely a ring of violet left to see. He keeps his lower lip between his perfect teeth as he watches me with an intensity that makes my thighs clench.

Just like before, I imagine myself holding that bowl, this time, I draw a breath and tip it over, letting more of that strange darkness spill into the abyss that is my soul. It is strange to see it like this, to have some parts of it so clear and yet the rest of it is shrouded in fathomless depths. There might be anything living within the confines of my skin. I’d never bothered to look until now.

I push it towards my fingertips, just as before. The same spasm in my muscles returns, a knot forming in my bicep that I do my best to ignore as I keep pushing my power towards my hand. I remind myself to breathe when it flares in my wrist, making my claws retract and pop back out.

“Just like that,” Rhysand coaxes.

Cauldron his voice makes my insides feel like jelly.

Crawling vines emerge one by one from beneath my palms, twining around my fingertips like tiny snakes. In the center sprouts another dandelion, a little taller than the last. I manage to hold it for all of five seconds before the knot in my bicep and wrist become too much and the vines and flower die together. My bones ache. How does he do this so easily?

“Better,” Rhysand praises as he places the next kiss on the inside of my wrist, his fingers massaging the knot forming there.

“Is it supposed to hurt?” I grumble.

“It’s a process,” he murmurs into my skin, lips trailing higher, causing a shiver to run down my spine. “Think of it like building a muscle. The first couple days of using that muscle will hurt. You’ll be sore. But the more you build it, the stronger it becomes, and the less it hurts. Eventually, you’ll be able to perform bigger and bigger feats with less and less discomfort.”

That sounds exhausting!

I’m going to have to do this for the rest of my life? The thought sours my mood, once again turning my thoughts away from this lovely little distraction he’s been offering and back into the darkness that’s been threatening to overtake me all afternoon.

I swear he can hear the thoughts spinning through my head as he suddenly nips at the tender flesh of the inside of my wrist. “You think you can give me one more?”

I have a headache just thinking about doing it again, but he keeps looking at me through those long lashes, the intensity in his gaze making all rational thought fly out the window.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” he promises, lips trailing higher. He’s so warm and intoxicating, I think he might be capable of making me do anything, as long as his lips remain on my skin.

I focus on that spot, paying extra attention to breathe as I reach for that imaginary bowl a third time. Maybe if I let myself relax, lean a little heavier into the warmth of his touch, and stop trying so hard to hold on so tight, it won't hurt so bad. It has been like fighting a tide all this time; if I relax, go with the wave, will that make it easier?

I imagine that darkness spilling from the bowl like water instead, letting it flow like a river. The path from my chest to my fingertips is kind of like a stream, right? The water bubbling and rushing through me. There must be something to that thought process, because, when I open my eyes, there are more vines twining around my fingers and wrist, but this time, tiny yellow and pink flowers bloom from them. There is nothing dead or angry crawling out from beneath my skin, but something beautiful and alive. My claws retract as the vines spin around my fingers.

I can’t help but grin as I look to Rhys for his approval. “I did it!”

He grins right back, the sight so dazzling I think I might just stand here for hours summoning flower after flower to see it again. “That’s my girl!”

Instinctively, spurred by the excitement rushing through my veins, I stretch up on my toes and place a quick kiss on his lips. “You’re a good teacher,” and I mean it. Whatever this is between us, I am grateful for him, even if this is all we have. “Thank you.”

He slides a hand in my hair and kisses me back. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

I don’t know what it is I feel about it. It still feels wrong, or maybe it just feels different. Everything feels different these days, I’d rather not think too long about it. “Feels like I can breathe a little easier.”

“Good.” He kisses me again. “We’ll practice some more tomorrow.”

I slide my hand into the silky strands of his hair, nails scraping lightly over his scalp as he rests his forehead on mine. I won’t let myself think about tomorrow, or about these new powers. There can only be this moment.

“Just promise me,” he continues, “that you’ll keep trying?”

“I might need some convincing,” I return, clinging to this distraction with every last bit of willpower I possess.

He grins at the challenge. This is the best I can give him today; the closest to the truth I can admit without laying everything bare.

“I can be very persuasive,” he purrs and the next thing I know I am on my back in what’s left of the grass, the solid weight of him on top of me. “Maybe we should work on some self-defense while we’re at it. That was alarmingly easy.”

“The words every girl wants to hear when she’s beneath a man,” I retort.

“I just want you to be safe, is all,” he says as he kisses the tip of my nose.

I reach up a hand and brush some of the hair that’s falling over his forehead into his eyes out of the way. He is breathtakingly beautiful under the moonlight. I wish I could paint or sketch, immortalize every glorious sharp edge of him in ink and paper. “I’m with you, how can I not be safe?”

Cauldron boil me, I mean that too.

It’s not until later that night, long after I’d fallen apart on his tongue in that field and then tumbled back into camp, nearly asleep on my feet to nestle down against his warm body that I remembered I’d meant to ask him this morning why he’d still let me in after everything between us. By now I’m too exhausted to care; maybe I’ll find the courage to ask in the morning.

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