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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year ago

Note

So request kinda if not just sharing my thoughts in general.

Alex. My boy. What if reader is a civ or even another soldier in a different squad and the whole thing with him joining Farah’s forces indefinitely. I think this can really lend itself to some angst and that good old misunderstanding. Kinda leaning towards civ!reader just because the more miscommunication. I guess it’d have to be an angsty ending though 😳, but regardless-

Love your writing and, as always, feel free to change anything or do whatever gives you the most inspiration

World Caves In

PAIRING: Alex Keller x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Perhaps it would have been better if your husband had died - at the very least you could understand that.

WORD COUNT: 7.9k

WARNINGS: Angst, misunderstandings/miscommunication, hurt/comfort, vulgar language, abandonment?, Alex being an adorable husband, fluff, etc.

A/N: I was gonna make this an angsty ending but I got my period and thinking about that made me cry so here we are, lmao. Enjoy, Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

When you’d been escorted out of work by two uniformed men, you knew the news wasn’t going to be good. Sitting in the back of a large black car, you spare nervous glances as the vehicle jumps, its wheels going over the last speed bump. Your work building begins to become a fraction of a memory and disappears faster than your resolve.

The men sit on either side of you, silent, and the only comment is to the driver as you all enter the main road. Swallowing, you part your lips and mutter, plain dread in your tone, “Is he alive?”

All you get is a glance from the front mirror and nothing more. You hunch more in your seat and stew in agony, mind far off on the topic of your husband.

Alex wasn’t overly reckless, you’d managed to snuff most of that out over the course of the many years you’d expressed concern to him about it, but a large chuck of the blond was still too selfless for his own good. It was hard not to think the worst.

From training to advising, your husband was always off on one mission to another, far from your quaint and quiet home here—where you waited day after day for even a sliver of contact from him. Alex specialized in so many things that trying to wrap your head around it was impossible.

Even now, you only knew the bare minimum.

The soft-smiled man worked in the SAD division of the CIA. He’s an Operations Officer. Currently, he’s somewhere across the globe.

Away from you.

Thinning your lips, you take down a deep breath and settle back into the seat, pulse flying. The men were obviously Agents—you’d looked closely at their badges when they’d first shown their faces at the front desk and had kept within view of your work’s security cameras just in case this was a ruse. When you could find nothing out of the ordinary, you had tensely asked them what was happening.

They would be holding his dog tags if he was dead, you had reasoned, desperately, a flag.

It was frantic, the way you had thought that up; how could you not be like that? Alex was the light of your life! With him constantly putting his life on the line, it was inevitable for him to get hurt, sometimes seriously. It was ingrained into your mind the way you would help clean his wounds in the middle of the night when the pain woke him up with a grunt stuck in his throat. The way you would sit half-asleep in his lap and re-wrap bandages while he told you to go back to bed half-heartedly. His hands drifting over your warm skin like he was cascading his fingers up and down the spine of an old book.

You never listened.

“It’s late, Bug, I can’t keep you up like this.” His drawl echoes in your ear as you rub a heavy palm into your eye. Alex’s hands are both on your hips, squeezing the flesh just below your tiny sleep shorts. You have him sitting on the floor, back resting on the wall and shirt discarded to the side only wearing loose gray sweatpants. A long cut up his left pec is the center of your blurry attention—a wet rag held as you dab at it. Blue eyes narrow at you. “I’m just fine with doing it myself, y’know.”

“You’re being stubborn again,” you utter, the soft light of the bathroom placed at half-capacity to at least try and keep some of the veil of sleep over your heads. “I told you to wake me up when you needed it cleaned.” Your skin brushes his and Alex shivers under you, sighing breathily. “And you’re not keeping me here—I’m helping.”

A small flash of that full smile, mustache flinching up, “Well when you look so pretty sleepin’ I can’t just shake you awake and tell you to fix me up.”

You take your free hand and pinch his nose, yawning as he grunts out chuckles. A delicate glance is thrown his way as the rag lowers from reddened skin. Like a butterfly's whisper, you study his face gently; reaching and cupping his cheek with your palm.

Alex’s lids flutter, heavy weight falling into you as if waiting for this—lips pressing to your inner wrist in reverence. You hold back a tired giggle and feel the corner of his mouth pull up when he feels it.

“All that talk, and yet,” pressing a smooch to his forehead you take your hand back and hear the grumble he lets out after, “you still like it better when I’m the one that’s working on you.”

“Can’t complain too much,” he admits slowly as his head leans back to tap the wall, “my wife’s hands are way softer than mine.”

Alex’s grip on your flesh tightens when you sipe away the last line of crimson from the wound, tattooed arms flexing.

“Sorry,” you whisper, watching his eyes slightly awash with pain. “Got caught on a stitch.”

“Ah, well,” the blond sighs, shifting “I suppose I can forgive you.”

Laughing quietly as the house settles, you shake your head and rest your forehead on his.

“Such a saint,” your lips utter teasingly as Alex smiles wide, his hands moving higher to your waist. You lean into him, stealing his warmth as your tired eyes flutter; feeling his thumbs run circles over the flesh of your lower spine.

A content breath escapes you.

“Go back to bed, Sweetheart,” Alex whispers, lips brushing yours like silk, the bristles of his facial hair tickling you. “I can do the rest, promise.”

“Know you can,” your mutterings are barely heard, but the man seems to register them, sea-glass gaze incredibly soft. He chuckles at your sleepiness, one hand leaving your waist to capture the back of your head; weaving into your hair and gently massaging your scalp. You practically melt into him, limbs going slack, slurring out, “Quit it. Wanna help, Alex.”

His laughter shakes you, and with a huff escaping, you bury your burning face into his neck and lean into him, careful of his wound even in your fatigued state.

“No offense, Bug,” Alex shifts, grunting as he easily maneuvers you until you’re laying in his arms, inked forearms under your knees and behind your shoulders with vivid images of grim reapers, snakes, and angels guarding you close. A kiss is firmly pressed to your forehead as the blonde smirks downwards, “But you’re about as helpful to me right now as an empty mag.”

You grumble, trying to disappear into his skin and letting him dig his stubble into your cheek.

“If you bring me back to bed before you’re done,” you yawn and close your eyes, “I’m divorcing you.”

He laughs deeply into your ear, body shaking as he pulls back and sends you an incredulous look.

“Hell, we can’t have that, can we, Mrs. Keller? I’d lose my damn mind.”

It’s a long drive, and you worry through the entirety of it. A primal, whole-body-shaking type of fear. You’d built a life with Alex and loved him more than anything or anyone that had come before. Even if he was gone a lot, that had never dulled what the two of you had—your marriage was nothing short of something you would find in a fairy tale; flashing pictures on pages with vivid colors and tender glances. The very cover itself is made of the finest leather and inlaid with gold calligraphy.

Please, Alex, you plead in your head as you remember his loving gaze—his back as he makes supper in the kitchen and hums to himself. Please be okay.

The men hold open the car door when it comes to a stop outside a very obviously abandoned apartment complex near the outskirts of town. You get out quickly. Looking around, you take in the overgrown grass and the broken concrete with a knife in your lung; holding back the flood of anxious tears.

Though, confusion takes president.

“Where did you…?” You turn to look at the Agents, but they’re already clambering back into their car and snapping the doors shut. Wide-eyed and slack-jawed you watch them speed off as a cloud of dust drifts into the air.

Pulse echoing in your ears, you watch the vehicle speed down the road and disappear.

Swallowing, you whisper, “What the actual fuck?” Turning in circles, no one else is around. A part of you starts to worry less for Alex and more for yourself.

They were CIA, you reiterate, I checked their badges—Alex showed me the standard ones. Could I have missed something?

Expression nervous, you shift on your feet before your stuttering legs take you closer to the abandoned building, not really seeing much choice here. You could imagine the scene from The Wizard Of Oz—when the man pulls back the curtain and all is revealed.

That said, you could really only hope that was what was actually happening to you and you weren't getting kidnapped or shot. Taking a deep breath, you clench your fists and enter the building through the open front door.

It was in the wide lobby that you locked eyes with Kate Laswell. You blank, mouth parting as the scent of concrete and decaying furniture get stuck in your nose.

The woman seems highly agitated, brows tight and jaw clenched. Her white blouse had been flattened multiple times by rough hands, lanyard swaying on her neck like Alex’s dog tags would. She holds a file in her hands; the paper bulky as if holding something more than just paper inside its manila clutches.

“Kate?” You ask, confused, “What are you doing here? What’s all of this about?” Taking quick steps forward you splay your hands as your voice grows more serious. “Where’s my damn husband?”

You didn’t know Laswell personally, in fact, when you had first got a glimpse of her here, you’d forgotten the older woman’s name for a moment. The first meeting between the two of you had been at a CIA get-together that Alex had been forced to go to because of his position—some celebration because a group of ICBMs had been taken back into US hands after being stolen. Your husband had introduced you to the Station Chief over a drink with a hand on the small of your back.

But it didn’t stop you now from talking to her like you’d known her for years. Not when fear was flooding your veins.

“What the hell is going on?” You say harshly, glancing around the room for any sight of someone else here.

Kate sighs heavily but wastes no time in speaking, her professional tone and serious face leaving your already fast-paced heart racing.

“Alex isn’t coming back to the United States.” Your eyes blank, staring into icy blue. She holds out her manila folder, jaw tight. Blunt. “He’s a deserter.”

It’s like your entire being halts; your skin suit feels as if it’s sagging on your bones with the weight of a cinder block connected by hooks to the floor.

What did she just say?

Opening and closing your mouth you stutter, lids blinking rapidly.

“I…” Fingers flinching in the air, an exhalation from your nose sounds more like a wheeze. Kate watches stiffly, taking a look at the floor before returning her attention to you; emotion flashes in her eyes. “...W-what?”

“Keller deserted his post—I tried to speak with the Colonel but there’s only so much I can do.” Laswell takes a deep breath as you continue to go through shock. Alex wasn’t coming home? How, why? “He’s staying in Urzikstan to fight with the Liberation Force.”

“Urzikstan?!” You gape, but the woman continues.

“For all intents and purposes, I shouldn’t be here, but Alex asked me personally to hand these to you.” Again the manilla folder is shown to you, but when you only glare and fight the fear and confusion rampaging in your gut a sigh echoes out and it’s placed on a termite-eaten side table. “Even communicating with you could put you in danger now that he’s gotten on the bad side of the entire SAD and CIA branches. This is all I can do.”

“What the fuck,” you whisper to yourself, hand coming up to capture your mouth.

“If Alex re-enters the states—he’ll be arrested and tried in a court of law. If he’s not shot on sight for what he knows.” Kate watches you closely, shaking her head in pity. “I’m sorry,” there’s a strained pause, “but he’s made his decision.”

As she brushes past you, leaving the folder on the side table, you feel your wide eyes well with tears—confused and horrified. But he’s coming back to me, right? Alex…Alex wouldn’t leave me here alone.

It was common knowledge that over the last years the blond had gotten more agitated at his line of work; the orders that he didn’t want to follow but had no choice. No voice. But he can’t just abandon you...could he? You’d taken vows. Had a happy marriage and relationship. Loved each other.

He can’t just…he can’t…

Your hands shake and you’re unable to stop them, gaze locked on that unassuming manilla folder. Kate pauses in the doorway, peeking back and seeing your sickly-looking face, the agony written in the lines of your forehead. Like the picture of a loyal wife being told her husband was never coming home. And Alex wasn’t even dead. Resentment begins to burn.

But he made his bed.

“He told me to tell you that he wouldn’t be angry if you wanted to leave him,” was all she said, a final knife being stabbed into your heart and being ripped out like a live wire. Electricity makes your back go stiff in an instant. “It would be best to never tell anyone that we met.”

You were alone, full body shivers and bile stuck in the back of your throat. Cold sweat coats your palms, a sticky mess of your barebones disturbance.

“He…” your voice is hoarse, bouncing off the far walls. “Alex left me here? He left me.”

It was easier to say that the sun had exploded and you were waiting for the last beam of light to incinerate you. Inside of your skull your brain pounds as, in a mad dash of desperation, you rush to the manilla folder and rip it open with vibrating arms.

Having Laswell tell you that Alex wouldn’t be mad if you…if you…the hairs on the back of your neck rise and suddenly you’re angry beyond a sliver of a doubt. It was insulting.

“Alex fucking Keller,” the paper opens to the bulk of your husband's dog tags and a flip phone—reports like his own personal file and the patch that he had once worn so proudly on his combat vest. Red, white, and blue dig into your retinas; it was old, worn beyond measure, but that little patch was something that was never removed. Not even to be cleaned.

“The dirtier it is,” Alex had commented on the American flag patch when you’d offered to mend it for him, cringing at all the blood stains and dirt flecking off it as he slipped his vest off in the foyer of your home. “The luckier I am.”

“I think the stench of it alone will frighten off anyone who comes near,” you had raised a brow, smirking up at him as he walked over, laughing. A kiss is placed on your lips, Alex’s bright smile transferring over to you as if able to spread from his mouth to yours that simply. You sigh dreamily.

He pulls back with a tiny wink as you gaze up at him, cheekily stating, “That’s the plan, Sweet Thing. Gotta make sure I come home to you in one piece.”

You brush your hands over it and think that maybe it would have been better if he had died. Then you could understand why he’s doing this to you. Anger spreads into rage.

Looking next at the phone and dog tags, all you do is shake your head and slam the folder shut, bitter tears tracking your face. You can’t read anything—can’t see his name imprinted on that metal that used to press coldly into your skin as you both slept in bed. You don’t care about the phone or the files.

None of it mattered.

“He fucking left me here,” it’s like you’re a broken record replaying over and over again. “You absolute bastard, Keller!” Yelling, you press your fingers into your face, hands spreading over your eyes and mouth to muffle your enraged sobs.

“You’re still alive and you left me alone.”

Only the abandoned building echoes your pain; replaying it back over and over again as your wails echo around the lobby like a symphony of laughing jesters.

—

The phone that Laswell had given you had been going off at least three times every day—morning, noon, and at night. You had stared at it with fury, knowing exactly who was calling even if the thing was displaying an unknown number. By now you had steeped in your anger enough that you had found yourself snapping at friends and family alike when asked if you were alright.

You wished Alex was here so you could hit him upside the head for being so stupid. So you could hate him until you had the pleasure to love him again.

Urzikstan.

You’d looked up the country after you had spent two days straight in bed, afterward manically cleaning the house with a glare that could light fires. The far-off place was a land utterly divided by war. Russian occupation, a terrorist group; the force that your husband had joined. Mass against mass against mass.

Brick meets wall.

And Alex had chosen to stay—without a doubt because he’d seen the dire situation and had used that damnable good heart of his to empathize to the max. Forget donations, humanitarian work, or anything else, the man had fucking decided to join in a Liberation Force.

As much as you wanted to say you hated him; had wanted to slam your gold wedding band to the table with a good riddance for betraying you like that…you still had his dog tags around your neck, and the ring was still on your finger.

“Too good for his own sake,” you grumble, shoving dirty clothes into the washer like they had tried to attack you. “Deserted the fucking CIA, Jesus Alex. Do you even think when I’m not around?”

There were only so many times you could curse his name until you felt a deceiving needle of pride slither itself into your skull. You could describe Alex as many things but he would always be steadfast in causes that truly needed his help. He often told you that the best missions were the ones where he could do so much more than take out a target—he strived to help the individuals he met. Form bonds.

God forbid something came in between the blond and the ones he’d chosen to give his loyalty to.

You slam the washer shut and stomp into the living room after starting another cycle. Stress cleaning was really not a good look on you—the entire house was without a single spec of dust but you yourself felt like you’d run seven marathons. Clenching your teeth, you go and drop to the couch, a grunt falling from your lips as your head hits the pillow.

Staring at the ceiling, you finally take in the utter silence of the house—not a home, because it could only be that if Alex was here—with a pained crease forming on your brow. The pipes spit water, and the washer grunted its mechanical garble…but there was no humming man making food in the kitchen. No blond hair visible as a head rests on your chest; your fingers playing in the locks that act like silk as you part them, the man on top of you purring. Body a weighted blanket.

“Was it really that easy,” you whisper to nothing, lip quivering. “Was it really that easy to stay away, Alex? I thought…I…”

Eyes wrenching shut, you hear the phone right at noon again as it sits on the coffee table. And you let it.

There were voicemails, no doubt, but you hadn’t thought to listen to those either. This small act of rebellion was all you could act on but for the simple fact that it also harmed you. Barbed wire steadily digging deeper as it kept your hands wound to your sides—neck plastered to the pillow as bright silver spikes glinted. You stare at the unknown caller who really wasn’t all that unknown and watch the screen light, vibrating over the wood in steady intervals.

What hurt the most was that if he’d asked you to come along—become an Expat just for him—you would have said yes. You could find a new job, a new place to call home. Humanitarian work would have been at the top of your list and Alex…well….he would still be fighting, just as he always had.

But at the very least you would have been there to clean his wounds. Together. You’d both promised on that altar to do nothing less. He could’ve asked. He should have asked.

Alex…

“Urzikstan,” you mutter for what seems like the fiftieth time. When the ringing stops a few moments later the new voicemail icon flashes. Placing your arm over your mouth, you clench your hand so tight it starts to shake, whispering into your skin, “Fine. I guess you did make your bed. And…and I won't be there to lie in it with you.” No matter how much I want to.

You slip the wedding band off of your finger and place it beside the phone before turning and burying your head into the cushions; feeling more numb than you ever had before.

—

It carried on like this for three months. The ring didn’t move from the coffee table and neither did the flip phone; the file had all but been tossed in the trash as it sat teetering on the living room desk. You carried on as well as you could, all things considered.

Work was a blur, going out with friends even harder to enjoy, and any enjoyment of hobbies or activities was dulled to an almost gray existence. Like a ghost, you wafted through experiences with dog tags and a withering appearance. Eventually, you just stopped going out unless it couldn’t be helped. You still bought meals for two at the grocery store out of habit. You placed blankets where Alex used to sleep beside you. You went to work.

And still, the calls never stopped except for a brief pause after the first month. You’d thought he’d finally given up, but no. Back at it.

It had gotten to a point now where the device was automatically deleting all recent voicemails—too little space in the inbox.

Angry curiosity was tempting you. It would be easy, you reason, to simply play the first message and listen. The worst part of it was that you’d begun to forget Alex’s voice and perhaps that was why, on that dead-aired Saturday, you snatched the phone and brought it into the kitchen.

Firmly planting it on the counter, you stand behind one of the island chairs and glare, hands tapping into the wood.

“I’m giving you three minutes, Alex,” you speak as if he’s still here, as if his form stands right behind you, head tilted like a damn dog with that infectious smile and those sea-glass eyes. “Three minutes,” your fingers snap the device open and you go to your voicemails; jaw tight, “and if you don’t hear you groveling, Keller, I’m deleting all of them and chucking this phone into the sink.”

You go down the line to the very first message, small buttons clicking, and before you can stop yourself you press play.

It begins with a small moment of silence. A cough.

“Hey,” he says your first name, not one of your epithets. Your brows deepen their annoyed furrow, but you can’t help the uptick in your heart rate. Inside your flesh, the sinews of your throat close in on itself like a balloon. “I…I’m guessin’ I have a good enough ass-kicking waiting for me since you didn’t answer.” A strained laugh before another pause. You feel acidic tears boil behind your lids. “I’m not surprised—not really. Done some stupid things but never something like this.” You can hear him shake his head, voice going lower in defiance. “But they were asking me to leave Urzikstan in a worse place than when I entered it. This Liberation Force, Bug, it…they’re good people and what they’re asking me to do…” Alex huffs, growling under his throat. “I can’t stand by that. The man you chose to marry, he can’t stand by that. They need me here. I’m not asking you to not be angry—to not hate me for this. I know I damn well deserve it.”

You let your tears hit the counter, head slightly bowing over. That was your Alex.

“You need a leash,” your strained voice hits the walls, bouncing off picture frames and your husband's cooking utensils. The small pieces that make up the whole picture frame of your life. “God,” you huff wetly, “you’re going to get yourself killed.”

“I know I should have talked to you first, figured out some plan. But, uh,” Alex’s throat gets choked up, and you snap a hand to your mouth when you realize he’s close to tears. He clears his throat. “Hell, I should have done a lot of things, Sweetheart.”

You can hear shouts in the background, calls in Arabic. The pounding of a door and a woman’s voice.

“Alex, we need to move! Everyone is ready—Barkov’s lab cannot be left standing a moment longer.” The hurried hand to the line muffles the words, but you hear him anyway.

“Affirmative!” He comes back. “I don’t have time to explain more, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for… everything. I’d understand if you don’t use the passport Laswell’ll give you, but that doesn’t mean I’m just going to stop calling.” Alex laughs and your face freezes.

“Passport?”

“What kind of Husband would I be if I just let the most perfect woman in the world go without a fight, huh? I’ll be waiting until you call to tell me to shut the hell up and leave you alone or that you’re down in the airport waiting.” There’s a large sound of combat vests being clicked on—pistols being situated into holsters and a rifle strap slipped over a chest. Alex suddenly pauses and you stare at the phone blankly. “I know this is a big ask, Doll, and I know I’m horrible for even springin’ this on you when I’m half a world away from our bed. But I had to try, even if it was selfish. I just…I just really need to hear your voice telling me if I’m an idiot or not for thinking this up. Call me back soon…or when you run out of my clothes to burn in the firepit out back…I love you, okay? More…more than anything.”

There’s a minute or two of nothing, just Alex’s ragged breathing, and then there’s an older man’s voice ordering him to hurry up. The line clicks.

Your ears ring as it does, wide eyes dripping tears from your bottom lashes as your lungs chill over. Hand slowly flinching out, you ghost over the keys before clicking on the following voicemail. As it plays, your feet start to take you backward at a snail's pace, your spine flattering against the wall as blood drains to your feet.

“Hey, it’s me again. I still haven’t heard from you—that’s alright. Take your time.” Steadying yourself with a hand, you look out of the kitchen and get a glimpse of the manila folder on the desk, its tan hide sucking you in. Pulse in your throat, you rush out to grab it as Alex’s voice echoes. “I know Laswell gave you the file, I trust her that much at least.” A sigh. “But even if it’s just to yell at me, please pick up the phone soon. Let me save some of my dignity and give me a chance to beg on an open line, huh, Sweetheart…? But I guess that’s all—gotta go. I love you.”

You don’t play the next message because you’re ripping open the file with rabid hands, seeing exactly as you had when Laswell left it for you. Alex’s mission report; his patch. The dog tags around your neck clink together like a song, some brutal rhythm.

“Passport?” Grasping the mission report you pick it up, flipping through the multiple pages of blacked-out words and more confused than ever. “Airport?”

The words come out as whimpers, hands so shaky that the pages slip from your fingers. They slam to the floor in a flurry of bond paper and you curse loudly, snatching for the remnants futilely. Grasping on your hands and knees hitches build in your breath as your fingers dance rapidly before they slip across something distinctly not paper.

Small, tiny, and blue. Laminate.

Your very blood seems to stop in your veins. Pushing back one last piece of paper, you come face to face with a singular American passport. Gasping down mute breaths and licking your lips, you pick it up lightly, leaning back on your legs as if you’d just slammed your head into the concrete.

“Alex…” you whisper to no one.

Flipping the hard cover open, a small, palm-sized piece of paper slips out to your lap as your own face stares at you in image form. You blink for a moment before going to take the note and separate the ends. Formal script is inside, stiff lettering. Not your husband's handwriting, but you didn’t have to guess who’d written out these directions for you.

Laswell.

There was a destination in fountain pen ink—an airport near the Urzikstanian and Georgian border. Seeing as Urzikstan was on the travel-ban list due to the turbulence of the government and terrorist threats, you wouldn’t be able to get there directly.

But you supposed Kate had your back for that too.

Georgian safehouse - wait for Keller there. It’s secure. More directions and then a small gap. A pause. Good luck.

You don’t know how long you stare at that paper—that passport. The first thing you think about is how could Alex ask you to do this. Uproot yourself with the snap of a finger. You wouldn’t be able to bring anything beyond what could fit in a few suitcases. No furniture, no large amount of clothes, or even sentimental items. You’d have to quit your job; leave behind family and friends to travel to a war-torn country.

But he’d said it was your choice, and he wouldn’t push you to make it. He’d said you could leave him if you wanted—keep all of this that you’d built here.

…But you’d built it together, hadn’t you?

You think of Alex’s bright smile and his mustache. His tattoos. How he’d hold you so tight in the long hours of sleep that you half-believed he thought you’d disappear if he didn’t; nuzzling his nose into the back of your head and grumbling out nonsense. The way you could trace his scars and watch as he willingly submitted to your praise, delicate lips curving into sheepish grins as you place soft kisses on the raised skin. Red cheeks.

This place wasn’t a home without Alex in it.

You look over at the coffee table and lock onto the gold of your wedding band.

—

Getting into Georgia was a long affair of paperwork and screenings—not days but months of legal jargon that Alex had dodged entirely because of his desertion. By the time you’d landed in country, you were wholly exhausted down to the very marrow of your bones. You get through the checkpoints, pick up your bags, and look out at the entirely new world outside of the airport’s windows.

“Okay,” you swallow saliva and nod carefully before looking down at Laswell’s directions to the safehouse.

You slip the paper into your pocket after memorizing the address, tips of your fingers brushing the smooth surface of the flip phone. Clenching your eyes shut, you take your hand back out and go to try and hire a driver. You were here, but that doesn’t mean all of this was forgiven.

After you find someone able to drive you to where you need to go, you end up standing with a quaint hostel ahead of you, home far behind. Gazing slightly nervous at the strange place you’ve found yourself, you think of Alex’s hand on the small of your back and sigh; caressing the cool metal of the ring around your finger.

Walking forward, you hitch your bags over your shoulders and grit your teeth against the hot sun. When you meet the owner at the front desk you state your name and ask for a bed.

The man’s eyes widen for a moment before he looks at something on his countertop, raising a brow in thought. Grabbing at a stack of papers he holds up a finger and begins digging. Too tired and overwhelmed to ask what was wrong, you just watch and rub at your face.

“Ah,” the man snaps his fingers and laughs to himself, “here it is! I knew I had placed the note somewhere, Mrs. Keller.” You blink, confused, but the man just takes a key from the wall and motions for you to follow. Sparing a glance around for a moment, you slowly slink after, not really having a choice.

“I remember your Husband coming to me—the blond with the tattoos.” The owner looks back, making sure you’re following. He motions to his right side with splayed fingers. “Scars on the side of his head, to reserve a room.”

Alex was here? How much had he done already pertaining to the chance that you would show up?

“Y-yeah,” you chuckle stiffly, “that was him. Sorry for being so long I was…preoccupied.”

“You’re lucky he kept up on payments,” the man grumbles, opening a door with the key and motioning you inside. “My pleasure to finally have you, regardless.”

Entering the small and sparse room, you take the key from him with a thankful smile and a quick thank you before he closes the door. As the barrier thuds, you sway on your feet. Blinking. Breathing hard. You drop all of your bags with a heavy thump that echoes off the walls in a single instant. Heart pounding at everything that was striking you in an instant, you walk slowly back to the bed. You don’t bother to take a shower or brush your teeth; even change.

You fall down on the mattress and pray you don’t have to dream about Alex sending money to this place every week simply on a suffocating hope that you’d come back to him. You pray you don’t dream at all.

The phone wakes you up only thirty minutes later.

Groaning, you shift your body so your hand can snake into your pocket, grasping it and tossing it to the pillow beside your head. You’d never made it through all of the voicemails without crying, so you just deleted all of them and let the inbox fill back up again.

Feeling the dog tags press against your chest as you form your chest into the bed, you shove your head downward and listen to it ring.

Bring-bring, bring-bring, bring-bring

It happens in a flurry of a sleep-addled mind and a horrible desperation to see your husband after nearly a full year of no contact. You flip it open and answer with your nose pressed deeply into the pillow below you. Ears straining and pulse running like a starving cat after a mouse.

Dead silence.

“...Sweetheart…?” It’s pitiful how fast the tears flood you at Alex’s shocked and tiny voice. Tight breathing sounds over the line from his end and your other hand digs into your scalp. A small, cut-off laugh. “Hey…I—”

You hang up with a vicious slam of the screen and let the silence settle again. People walk the hall; the sun dims as night sets in. This isn’t home. Dropping the phone back down to the pillow you curl into a tight ball and cry yourself back to sleep.

If you had to guess, you’d say the small curse was what woke you for the second time, though you didn’t register it until minutes later. That muffled ‘shit’ as a foot hits your dropped bags near the door. But then it’s silent again and your ears only twitch to the gentle sigh that brushes against your face; a thumb and forefinger caressing your cheek as hair is placed back over your ear.

Perhaps the only reason at all as to why you don’t wake up screaming bloody murder is because of his calluses. They burn your flesh as they slide over it—as ingrained into your very being as your own heart is. As if Alex’s touch was another organ that was needed to survive. More important than a liver or a spleen.

When your eyes slip open he’s leaning back in a chair he had turned to face you, built form shifting as the rickety wood creaks. No more than five feet away sits your husband, and all you do is suck in a tight breath and lock gazes with soft sea glass.

Alex freezes at the same time, strong brow line peeling back and mustache stiff as his lips immediately thin. You both stare for a good while, a thread of tension entering the air. The night deepens.

He speaks first, in the dense hours of confrontation. Your heart feels like it’s been stuck with a spear, vignette at the sides of your vision, and a blooming center of only Alex’s body and his messy hair. The scarf around his neck. The combat vest.

Had he driven all this way to see if you were here? Because you’d answered the phone? But you hadn’t even said anything. Your head stays on the pillow, wondering if you were hallucinating.

“Hey,” Alex forces a chuff before he glances away, nervous arms crossed. “Hey there, Doll. Sorry that I woke you. I…ah,” your eyes bore into him, hand on the sheets slowly clenching into a fist. “I figured there was an off chance you would be here.” He clears his voice, throat closing on a trying laugh. “Guess I’m glad I looked. You should remember to lock your door, by the way.”

At the sight of your rising glare, his tone drops, expression falling even more than it already was. Deep well of sadness grew in his eyes, lips pulling back in a strained agony.

Alex’s gaze drops to the floor.

“I know,” is what hits the air, “I know, Sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t fucking cut it,” you push your body up as his large shoulders tighten—such an accomplished and strong man brought to a squirming heap when his wife’s sharp words hit him in the chest. “What the hell were you thinking, Alex?!”

Heavy feet hit the floor as you stalk over, fatigue and tiredness pushed all the way to the back of your mind yet also enhancing your emotions. Bitter rage was sparking—held in far too long. Alex’s eyes don’t meet yours, so you grab him by the chin and angle his head up to you.

At the sight of your red sclera and the baggy gaze he stills. Under your grip his beard tickles you, the soft grip of flesh that makes you want to wrap your arms over him and weep; make him promise to never leave like that again.

“I…I wasn’t…”

“That’s the thing isn’t it—you didn’t think.” Sea glass floods over, going glossy; hurt etched into both of your faces as if carved from the same stone. But you don’t stop now, growling out as your skin burns. Alex isn’t sad that you’re angry, he’s sad he’s done this to you. “You disappeared, Alex. Laswell had to just drop all of this shit on me. I thought you had died.” You growl. “Do you know what that feels like?!”

“Sweetheart—”

“Shut up! You let me talk,” he falls silent, hand delicately coming up to grab your wrist. Not to pull you away, just to hold you. To feel your skin and the heat of it. You sniffle and his eyes break. “And the worst part of it was that if you had just asked I would have followed you right then and there.” Alex sharply looks back at you. “But the biggest insult was that you thought I would leave you—that you even considered that.”

Shock slowly gives way to a blank expression. He was confused, now.

Was that what you were angry about?

“You’re an idiot, Keller. Hot-headed. Cocky.” You shake your head, but a tiny smile begins to bleed onto Alex’s face. Watching you like you’d just sprung a million dollars on him. His grip slightly squeezes, calloused thumb running the span of your knuckles as you shake his head with your hand. “Damn nuisance to my health, is what you are.” Trying to remain angry is tough when he’s looking at you like that—starstruck—but you spit out, “It’s insulting that you thought I’d just give up on us that easily.”

“Most women don’t want a man who’s wanted for desertion, Doll,” Alex whispers, testing a smirk on his lips with his expression still strained.

“Arrogant!” your voice snaps. “Not a single brain cell in his stupid little head.” You let go of his chin and grip the sides of his skull, feeling the dirty but still soft strands of hair before you huff at him.

But he just looks at you and smiles, face smooshed.

“...You really came?” Alex asks quietly. You fall silent and after a moment you deflate.

After the silence of trying to keep the sneer on your face, you let it drop, lips quivering slightly. Anger glints with pain. “I should hit you upside the head, Keller, for all the worry you’ve put me through,” you grunt, eyes flashing over every new bruise on his face—every cut you’d have to re-learn. He looks tired.

Oh, Alex…

Before the blond can respond to you, you’ve captured the back of his head and shoved it into your chest; face burying itself into his scalp to bring forth that scent of dust and cologne. You whimper out as he grips you around the waist with just as much fervor, “Did you think that I would stay away?”

Alex says nothing, only the slight tremor in his bicep betraying him. You firmly kiss his skull and run your fingers through his hair, the both of you so tight together there’s barely enough room in your ribs to allow your lungs to inflate.

But holding him was more important than air, a sentiment that Alex seemed to share entirely.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Bug.” He mutters into your skin. “Feels good to be able to hold my girl again.”

You stay like that for a long time before you pull back and capture his cheeks, face pulling closer before you kiss him deeply. It’s not a fast-paced or desperate thing—no clashing teeth or tongue. That wasn’t what you needed right now.

All that you needed was Alex. Your home.

You both separate and the blond grabs the back of your neck, forcing you back so he can lay another on the side of your mouth; nose, cheek. Anywhere that he could reach as his mustache tickled you to a smile. Giggles worm out and you wiggle out of his grip to wipe at your cheeks, spreading away tiny tear tracks and saliva.

“Quit it,” you whisper, and Alex gazes up at you reverently from his chair.

“Negative, Ma’am,” he says, equally as soft, not even blinking. “Don’t wanna.” You roll your eyes, face hot.

The seconds draw long of only watching one another before you shake your head and move your hands to shimmy out of the dog tags around your neck. Alex’s gaze locks on the metal swiftly, smile shifting.

“You’re horrible.” You huff, quietly, before shoving his dog tags at his chest. “Now put them back on.”

“But I’m not in the—” Your glare shuts him up. Alex clears his throat sheepishly. “Yes, Ma’am.”

You nod and watch as they’re resituated around his neck. Right where they should be. When you take a step back to really take him in, there’s a moment where you skim over the state of his left leg. After all, the metal was barely noticeable in the dark. But when you do see it every little part of you shrivels up with confused pain.

Alex stands with a noticeable preference to his right and as he towers over you, fingers coming to grab at your face and slowly drag it back up.

A slightly apologetic look washes over him.

“I’m guessing you didn’t listen to all of the voicemails.”

“Alex…” you slowly cut off. “You…” Staring at the metal limb instead of the real one, you gape. “...how?”

“Y’know,” he laughs, but you don’t find this funny. He notices and kisses your forehead, tapping his scalp to yours and saying after a contemplative pause, “I think it’s better if I don’t explain it. I’m alright, just...” Alex smiles cheekily, the spark that you love coming back easily as it shimmers in his eyes, “just a little more carbon fiber and aluminum than I was before.”

You hug him tightly.

“I’m sorry, I should have come sooner—I was just angry, and I wasn’t—”

“Don’t apologize to me,” Alex sighs, grabbing you and maneuvering the both of you to the bed. He sits and you end up laying in his lap like that moment in the bathroom ages ago. “None of this is your fault, okay? You deserve to be angry. I shouldn’t have put such a burden on you.”

You sigh in his arms, head under his chin and heart finally able to return to a steady pace. Licking your lips, you ask, “Does it hurt?”

Sending a glance down, Alex’s lips twitch with a grin before it disappears. He hums.

“Sometimes.” Your hand grips his opposite cheek and you lay a kiss on his chin, caressing his flesh.

It’s a tentative kind of love. An understanding and a plea all at once.

The blond leans back against the wall and pulls you closer, closing his eyes. Finally relaxing for the first time in what seems like forever. But his girl is in his arms, and he’s never been this calm.

“I have a home in Urzikstan,” he confesses lightly, fingers brushing your body and giving way to shivers. You listen, eyes fluttering at the vibrations of his words. “It’s safe—protected. I…want us to live there.” Alex nods against your head, swallowing. “If you’ll come back with me.”

“Yes,” your answer is immediate. “Anywhere, as long as you’re with me.”

You feel his breath hitch, soft chuckles brushing your hair far better than any comb. There’s a small tremor in his voice as he says, “I love you. God, do I love you.”

Your lips pull up, body growing heavy with a final sense of home.

“I love you, too.” Soft kisses and tight arms. Shifting tattoos. “But if you ever do something like that again without talking to me, I’m telling Laswell she has permission to put a bullet in your ass.”

His loud laughs shake your body, and you press your face into his neck to steady yourself; smiling.

NEW TAGLIST SIGN-UP: Here

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm

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moscnios · 9 months ago

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Straw Hats x Fem reader platonic! This just popped into my head after watching ATLA! What if S/O, who’s mute, owned a pet messenger bird? No, scratch that, a pet messenger hawk? Sharp-looking, intelligent, and fast, he’s her pet companion that she takes care of sweetly and kindly. He can deliver messages to anyone around the world! I’m surprised that One Piece didn’t have a pet parrot, besides Karoo. HCs?

★ WITH A MUTE CREWMATE WHO HAS A PET MESSENGER HAWK! headcanons ★

── featuring. the strawhats.

── cw. gn!reader. no pronouns used. platonic. mentions of your hawk fighting zoro and sanji lol. not proofread.

── notepad. this has been sitting in my inbox SO LONG. IM SO SORRY. i really hope this reaches the og anon.

accidentally crossing paths with the new rag-tag group of hotshot pirates that were becoming a thorn in the side of the marines was unexpected. becoming a trusted member almost overnight was even more so

you are welcomed with open arms by your new family. well, you and your vigilant and protective hawk that was always perched on your shoulder, ready to snap at the hands of your new and still unfamiliar crewmates if they got to get too close to you

luffy, friendly and touchy as he can be, seems to be your hawk's main victim of the pecking. he never learns

outside of steering clear away from your violent friend with wings, the straw hats do everything in their power to ensure you are comfortable. never will you ever feel left out with them

they make sure to always include you in conversations, even if you don't want to contribute to them

they learn other ways to communicate with you, whether it is handing you a pen and a pad to write on, or starting to learn sign language. whatever makes you the most comfortable

your crewmates have an unintentional habit of checking for you the moment you are no longer in their line of sight

nami is the worst about it. she can't even count the number of times she almost had a heart attack thinking you were gone because she didn't see you for more than five seconds, before smothering you in big sister hugs and scolding you to never do it again

franky is the second worst about it. the one time the two of you went on a mission to find supplies in a village, he got distracted and kept walking, not noticing that you stopped a while ago. when he turned around and you were nowhere to be found, he was losing it. he called for you all over the village before falling to his knees in despair and crying a river before you returned having already found the supplies. he swore if he wasn't already crying he would have cried tears of joy when he saw you again

the straw hats find your pet hawk and the bond that the two of you share is very cool. to demonstrate their intelligence, you write a letter to your family back home and send your hawk on its way. when the bird returns a day later with another letter when its journey should have taken them weeks, the straw hats are in amazement

every now and then they ask your permission to send letters to their loved ones, even though you've told them several times that they don't need permission

it was just getting your hawk to like them is a whole other thing

your hawk absolutely loves chopper and robin. when they are not near you, they are perched on the top of chopper's hat, watching the reindeer do his tasks, while feeding them snacks in between.

while with robin, your hawk is comfortable enough to snuggle into her lap and fall asleep as they do with you while she reads on the deck of the sunny. you're starting to think they love her more than they love you

but you need more than two hands to count the number of times your hawk has left a few of your crewmates full of scratches due to being irritated by them, mostly zoro and sanji because of their "stupid bird" comments

well what can you do, the bird has a mind of its own

MANGEKYOU 2024 ── do not copy, repost, or translate my works onto this platform or any other !

#☆ — MY LOVE MINE ALL MINE.#one piece #the strawhats #the straw hats #strawhats #strawhat pirates #strawhats x reader #straw hats x reader #one piece oneshots #one piece scenarios #one piece imagines #one piece headcanons

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sideysvault · 17 days ago

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*ੈ✩‧₊ Mundane Intervention *ੈ✩‧₊˚

Pairing: Michael Gavey x fem!reader

wc: 1,200k

Tags: [sfw] Mature themes, strong language, one use of the r slur, bullying, tension and a fluffy ending

────────

The cathedral city looked as solemn as usual. The yellow stones shined in contrast against the pale green of the grass. Its baroque interior inspired respect in you, a bubbling sensation of awe. Even still, after all this time. The conversation your friends were having felt borderline sacrilegious. And it did scandalize you, to say the least. But then again, rich people’s brains seemed to be wired differently, that was another thing that you still couldn’t get used to. But it was the only group that had taken you in so far. The library engulfed the group, and the lame conversation that was being held was cushioned and absorbed by the old books.

“He’s like, a total retard”

Your body instinctively tenses upon hearing the term. The bad taste left from your childhood flooded every pore on your skin. You tried to concentrate on something else.

The weather constantly changed to sunny intervals by lunchtime. But you were sure that it would rain tonight. You could feel the humidity in the air, and the tense breeze.

“A mate of mine told me he goes around screaming at people to ask him sums”

A snort came out of someone’s mouth.

“What a pathetic party favor”

They were getting increasingly louder, and they seemed to pay no mind to the scattered students that surrounded us, trying to study, getting annoyed. In an effort to calm things down, you quietly ask “Who are you talking about?”

But you already had a fairly decent idea of who they were mocking.

“That Michael guy”

You frown and nod dismissively. Suddenly, your clothes were all the wrong fabric, with all the wrong texture. Shifting in your seat, trying to breathe in and out, in and out. People have called you those names your entire life, especially when you were younger. Just because you were starting to get the hang of social interaction at college, starting to be pretty, knowing how to take care of yourself, that did not erase everything that had happened to you.

You had only seen Michael twice before. He was quite handsome, and sure, he seemed weird. But as far as you knew, he had no friends, no money, and Oliver had ditched him for Felix a long time ago. That made you more similar to him than to anyone sitting across from you.

Still fearing being alienated and left alone and far away from home, even if it meant being away from vapid people who were there by pure chance and lineage, a strange comment that should’ve been a legitimate defense left your mouth

“Actually, I think he’s super hot.”

Your comment was the match that lit up the entire conversation again. A loud laughter came out in sync.

“Do you have some kind of freak fetish or something?”

Sighing and laughing along, you decided to dismissively collect your defeat and let the situation go. Embarrassed, and with your cheek burning. What else could you do?

────────

You were right. The grass felt humid and the dirt was rich and aromatic. You quickly stumbled your way into the house, not wanting to ruin the pretty scenery with your puke. Desperation pounded your heart, and all you needed was a break. Somewhere to puke and rest for a while. Things went south at some point in the night. The evening turned from excitement for being invited to feeling stupid for letting yourself get wrapped around stupid games and ending up drunk, and it had ended with you feeling irreparably lonely, because you really had no one to hold your hair while you got better, no one to talk and share a moment in the midst of all the rapid coloured madness of Halloween.

You missed your small town, you missed your old friends, you missed being at home, at peace.

An open door finally turned to be a bathroom, and without thought, you ran to open the lit of the toilet and sober up.

“I was here before”

It startled you. That voice. Angry and petty, and completely unaware that you obviously needed to use the restroom with urgency. You turned to the person, who was hiding behind the curtain of the bathtub. You opened them, reinvigorated and with a new clear head. What the actual fuck? It was Michael.

He was wearing an awkwardly thick sweater, crimson red and a yellow collar. Michael was wearing his glasses, and when he saw you standing up before him, his eyes immediately trailed down towards your exposed breasts, your stomach, and your legs. You frowned. It was a party, and now he was making you feel concious for choosing an appropriately revealing outfit. It wasn’t your fault if he was dressed like he was on his way attend a lecture

“Jesus, you really are a fucking asshole aren’t you?”

A smirk adorned his face, as he spat back “But you are into that, right? Freaks?”

Your heart dropped. He had heard the conversation at the library. You suddenly did not feel so confrontational. Embarrassed and slightly annoyed, you dropped your back against the wall and slowly sat on the floor.

“What are you doing here anyway?”

His body crisped, and his cocky was nowhere to be found. “It’s not like it was invite only”

Michael was being pathetically defensive about the topic, while you were only trying to make small talk. But you let it pass, because after what he had heard, he clearly thought you were making fun of him. As if you’d police who gets inside a party on a house whose host you didn’t even know.

“That’s not what I meant. Sorry.”

The awkward silence continued. And the angry look on his face did not disappear with your attempts to make amends. You tried again.

“You are not having fun?”

He slowly shakes his head no and lowers his gaze. Something had clearly happened to this guy. And by the way everyone talked about him, you weren’t surprised.

“Yeah, me neither”

Michael seems to relax a bit, finally dropping the defense. He quickly gets up from the bathtub and walks towards the sink.

“Clean your mouth. Or it’ll stink”

You laugh at his abruptness, but he was right. You do as he says, and when you lower down to drink some water from the sink, he shakily takes your hair for you to not get it wet. This consideration makes your heart drop yet again, because that was exactly what you needed, some nice gesture, and it had surprisingly came from him, even after you did not have the courage of the wit to defend him. A small smile lights up your face and while you turn to face him, you make sure to leave a quick kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you, I needed that”

The brownish red you were wearing stained his face, which seemed to match with the new brightness of his gaze, and the pink blush that marked his face.

“I really wasn’t making fun of you back there. I meant what I say”

You gave him your name, and he finally properly introduced himself to you. You both smiled at one another. For the first time since you’d been together in the bathroom, he seemed truly comfortable. You weren’t one of those vapid cunts after all. And he wasn’t one either.

#michael gavey #michael gavey x reader #michael gavey x y/n #michael gavey x you #Michael gavey x fem reader #saltburn #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn fanfic #Michael Gavey x female reader #michael gavey fanfic #ewan mitchell

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candycandy00 · 9 months ago

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The Doll House - A Gojo x Reader Fanfic Part 4 (Final)

You sell yourself to the Doll House to pay your mom’s medical expenses, only to discover your trainer is the guy who bullied you relentlessly in high school: Gojo Satoru.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Read Geto’s Part Here!

Read Toji’s Part Here!

Read Nanami’s Part Here!

Read Sukuna’s Part Here!

Read Choso’s Part Here!

Note: Please remember that these stories don’t take place at the same time, or even one after the other! Consider each one its own timeline. So if you see Geto and Toji with other dolls, don’t be alarmed lol. I had to do it this way because if I don’t, by the time I get to the last trainer, there won’t be any other trainers left to interact with!

AU! Each trainer will get their own story! This is Gojo’s. If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, let me know! You must be an adult to be tagged! Any feedback whatsoever is adored!

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. Chubby Reader. Dubcon. Pet Play. Bullying. Collars/Leashes. Fingering. Anal sex. Vaginal sex. Bondage. Dildos. Humiliation. Oral sex. Tons and tons of cum. Gojo being an asshole.

Gojo looks confused, as if you just spoke a different language to him. “Hurting you? Was I too rough with the training? I’m sorry, I thought you liked-“

“No, not the training!” you yell. The training was the only part of this whole thing you enjoyed. “It’s all the sarcastic remarks about me being cute or little or ‘highlighting my best features’! Saying all those things when I know what you really think of me! And now saying you love me?! You want to keep me?! How stupid do you think I am? How cruel do you have to be to try to get my hopes up just so you can laugh at me?!”

“What are you talking about?” he asks. “Why would I try to trick you? I wasn’t being sarcastic! Fuck, why are you so insecure?!”

You stare at him with your mouth dropped open, totally stunned. “You made me this way!” you scream, tears flooding your eyes. “You gave me this insecurity!”

He actually looks offended. “How?!”

“You made fun of my looks for two years! You, the most beautiful person in the school, laughed at me, said horrible things about my clothes and body, gave me that awful nickname, made me feel ugly and disgusting… made me hate myself!”

“I never made fun of your looks!” he says, his voice getting loud. “I thought you were beautiful! Why would I make fun of your looks?!”

“You called me Chubby Bunny!”

“It’s a cute nickname!”

You shake your head in disbelief. “Even if you thought that, didn’t you notice that everyone was laughing at me because of it? You started that! And you laughed right along with the others! You made my life hell!”

He draws back as if he’s been slapped. “I… I just teased you… I-“

“That was more than teasing, Gojo! I was terrified of you! You were my boogeyman. If I heard your voice coming down the hall, I ducked into a room or hid around a corner until you were gone, because I was so afraid of what you would say or do to me!”

“What? No! I never hurt you! I couldn’t have… I was crazy about you!”

You can’t believe what you’re hearing. Is he actually rewriting history to make himself feel better? “What about when you tripped me in the hallway? I twisted my ankle. I couldn’t even get up by myself. Geto had to help me! And while I was on the floor, another boy walked by and said I looked like a seal! A few of them made seal barking noises at me for days after that!”

The outrage in his expression is gone, replaced by a look of uncertainty. “I didn’t know anyone said that. I was just joking around. I tripped my friends all the time, even Shoko! I just wanted to see your reaction.”

“So you saw it,” you say, your voice a little more quiet now. “Did you enjoy it? Watching me limp away in tears?”

“No! I actually felt bad about it, I swear! I even thought about apologizing, but Suguru said I should just leave you alone.”

“But you didn’t leave me alone, did you? You took my things, you made constant comments about my clothes. You laughed so loud whenever I made a mistake in class or even dropped a pencil, which got everyone else laughing too. You made me the laughingstock of the class! Why did you do that to me?! What did I ever do to you?!”

He looks hurt, almost sad. “I wanted your attention. You always ignored me. Every girl in the whole school paid attention to me, except the one girl I wanted. And the only way I could get that was to make you mad. I just… wanted you to look at me.”

“I did look at you then, didn’t I?” you ask. “I looked at you with fear. You made me dread going to school.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, taking one step toward you. “I didn’t realize I hurt you so much. I was just a dumb kid back then. I can make it up to you, I can-“

“No, Gojo, you can’t.” Tears are running down your face. You wipe them with the back of your hand before going on. “Do you remember when you grabbed that love letter I was about to put in someone’s locker, and read it out loud?”

He flinches. He definitely remembers. “Yeah, and I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have done that, I know!”

“There’s something you don’t know about that letter,” you say. “I actually wrote it two years before that. I wrote it for you, back when I was in love with you. But I was too shy to even anonymously sneak it into your locker. I was afraid you would somehow find out it was from me, and be disgusted. But I couldn’t throw it away, just like I couldn’t completely throw away my feelings for you, no matter how badly you treated me. So I held onto it. And when I started liking someone else, I realized all those same feelings applied to him. So I tried to drop it in his locker. But you grabbed it, and read it, and laughed. What you were laughing at, Gojo, were my feelings for you!”

Horror is written on his face. He has the same expression as someone who has just been informed that a family member has been in an accident. “I didn’t know… I was jealous… I’m so sorry!”

You don’t engage with his apology. You don’t have the mental strength to do that right now, so you continue airing your feelings. “Even after graduating, I had a complex about my body. I wouldn’t let anyone see me naked, not even my boyfriend. He probably broke up with me because of my hang ups. Eventually I was able to bury my feelings for you, the love and the hate. But then… I came here…” you say, your voice breaking as you begin crying again. “And all those feelings came rushing back to me! I worked so hard to forget about you! And now… now my heart is in tatters!”

There’s a flicker of light in his eyes. “So you do have feelings for me! Even now!”

You scoff, wiping your eyes again. “Yes, but that’s the problem! Loving you is hurting me! Because it makes me feel low and weak and pathetic. I even started feeling lucky that someone as perfect as you could hold back their disgust long enough to fuck me.”

“Don’t say that!” he practically yells, his face twisted in pain. “This whole time I thought I was the lucky one! Fuck, I’ve practically been permanently hard since you got here! I spent my high school years dreaming of touching you. Even when I’ve been training dolls, even when I was fucking them, I imagined they were you!”

You shake your head. “It’s too late. You already did the damage. I can’t be your doll. Whether you knew it or not, you’ve owned me for far too long. I can’t let you literally, legally own me for ten more years. It would destroy me.”

He seems to be at a loss for words, his eyes shimmering and wet, like he’s about to cry.

You wipe your face again. “I can’t stay in here tonight. If you touch me, I might crumble. If you’re serious about feeling anything at all for me, you won’t do that to me. I’ll ask the owner if I can sleep in one of the empty rooms.”

“No, I’ll go. You can stay here,” he says, his voice unusually gentle. He grabs a few things and then heads for the door. Before stepping out, he looks at you again. “I really am sorry,” he says to you, and then he’s gone.

************************

Not long after, Gojo is knocking on Suguru’s door, not caring what he might be interrupting. It takes a few minutes for his friend to answer, his long hair slightly messy and his face annoyed. “What is it, Satoru?”

Gojo doesn’t even say anything, just looks at him.

Suguru’s eyes narrow. “Let me guess. You told her you’re keeping her and she told you to go to hell.”

“It was so much worse than that!” Gojo practically whines.

With a sigh, Suguru says, “Let me clean up in here and I’ll meet you in the dining hall.”

An hour later, the two friends are sitting at a table, cups of tea in front of them. Gojo has told Suguru every word of the conversation he had with his doll, twice.

Suguru takes another sip from his cup. “I tried to warn you when she first got here, but you wouldn’t listen. You never listen.”

Gojo is leaning over the table, his head on his arms. “I thought it would work out. I thought making her fall in love with me again would be easy. And it sort of was. She said she still has feelings for me!”

“Yes, you’ve mentioned that part a dozen times already,” Suguru says, sitting his cup back on the table. “But for her, you’re the person who ruined her life just to get attention. Loving you only makes her feel worse. I don’t blame her for wanting to get away from you.”

Gojo looks up. “But I didn’t know! I didn’t know so many other people were making fun of her because of stuff I did, I didn’t know about the letter. I didn’t know I was hurting her so much!”

“Now you know,” Suguru tells him. “The question is, now that you know, what are you going to do about it?”

************************

The next morning, you wake up in Gojo’s bed. It smells like him, and you can’t help remembering all the things you’ve done in this bed with him.

But it’s over now. You’re going to talk to the owner and tell her to find a buyer for you as soon as possible. Gojo can move on to his next doll and hopefully both of you can put this whole mess behind you.

The owner agrees to meet you in the welcome room to discuss your situation, and you find her standing in the center of the room. A folder is tucked under her arm.

You open your mouth to speak to her, but Gojo suddenly rushes in. “Did you bring it?” he asks the owner, not even looking at you.

The owner opens the folder and pulls out a paper. “Here it is, her contract. She is now your doll.”

“Wait!” you yell, confused and angry. How dare he do this after everything you said last night! You read your contract, you know you can reject him as your owner if you give sufficient reason. You’re pretty sure your history with Gojo would qualify. Still, the fact that he’s ignoring your wishes makes you livid.

Before you can approach him, he turns to face you and holds your contract up in front of him. “You probably won’t believe me, but I planned to do this from the very start.”

With that, he rips the contract into tiny pieces and lets them fall to the floor.

You freeze, watching the shreds of paper falling before your eyes.

“You’re free,” he says. “You’re not a doll anymore.”

Your eyes widen. The owner sighs and shakes her head, saying, “Gojo, do you understand what you’re doing? This was your one doll to keep. You can’t ever pick another.”

“I know. I’ll never want another doll anyway,”

he says, then looks at you again. “I know this doesn’t make up for what I did to you, but I hope it can be a start.”

You feel your eyes becoming wet again. You’re free! You don’t have to give up ten years of your life after all! You glance at Gojo, unsure of what to say.

“I never wanted to own you,” he says, his face a little sad. “I just want you to be happy. If you believe anything I’ve told you, believe that.”

“I… uh…” you flounder for a moment, trying to decide what words to use before finally settling on, “Thank you.”

He smiles at you. “Maybe someday, if you want to, we could try being friends? No pressure or anything. Just think about it.”

You nod, somewhat dazed. In the end, you leave with his phone number and return to your normal life.

It takes over a month for you to text him. Just an awkward, “How are you?” that he replies to within seconds. You can almost feel his excitement to hear from you.

“I quit my job as a trainer,” he tells you. “I just wasn’t all that into it anymore.”

You wonder if it’s because of what happened between the two of you, but don’t ask. A small part of you is relieved that he doesn’t currently have some other woman on a leash in his room.

For the next couple of weeks, you and Gojo talk via text and phone calls. He never asks to meet up, and never tries to pressure you in any way. You do discuss your past some more, calmly this time. He listens quietly to everything you say, apologizes over and over, and (only when you’re ready to hear it) explains why he did all those things.

His reasons were so childish and petty, it makes you realize he was just fifteen or sixteen years old when he did those things. Maybe it’s not fair to keep punishing someone for things they did at that age, if they’re trying to make it right as an adult.

One night you have another anemic spell, and your friend is at work. The only family you have is your mother, and she’s still hospitalized. Nervously, you text Gojo. He’s already told you to let him know if you ever need anything, but the thought of seeing him face to face again makes you uneasy.

Still, he shows up at your door in a flash, a bag full of food and DVD’s hanging on his arm. Seeing him standing there in your living room, so tall and so beautiful, makes your heart race.

“Did you faint again?” he asks, looking so worried.

“No, I just felt dizzy and weak,” you tell him.

“Then just relax,” he says with a smile. “I’ll take care of you.”

And he does. He cooks for you, brings you hot tea, and sits on the couch with you watching movies. He stays until the next morning, and you’re a little surprised that he never tried to tempt you into sleeping with him. You remember that the last time you weren’t feeling well, he did the same thing.

To be honest, you’re a little disappointed.

After that, the two of you are officially friends. You talk often, always checking in on each other’s days, getting to know each other’s habits and schedules.

The friendship doesn’t last long.

The first time you go to his place to “hang out just as friends”, both of you give in.

One minute you’re sitting on his couch, laughing and talking, and the next you’re wrapped in his arms, his tongue in your mouth, his hands tugging at your clothes.

He spreads you out naked on the cushions and eats your pussy like a man starved, saying how much he missed you, missed tasting you, missed watching you cum. He goes at it for over an hour, making you climax so many times you practically forget how to speak, only able to whimper and gasp.

Then, he fucks your ass, absolutely railing you. You’re so overstimulated by this point that you just want him inside you, no matter what hole he uses. Overwhelmed by your own feelings, you start crying. Gojo holds you close to him, hugging you gently, rubbing your hair, whispering sweet words into your ear as he fucks you relentlessly.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. You’re so beautiful. Feels so good inside you… Fuck, you’re incredible!”

You know what he’s doing, and it only makes you even more emotional. He wants you to know what he thinks of you. He doesn’t want you to question how attractive he finds you. He doesn’t want you to feel insecure.

The two of you begin dating after that. You couldn’t ask for a sweeter, more supportive boyfriend. He takes care of you, pampers you, treats you like a queen. He even goes with you to visit your mom in the hospital. And through all this, you feel like you’re finally beginning to heal.

And when the two of you are alone, and very horny, sometimes you go back to being his Bunny. Not Chubby Bunny, he’s never called you that since finding out how much it bothered you, but just Bunny.

Right now, you’re in the living room of his apartment, all the curtains closed and the door locked. You’re wearing your collar, bunny ears, and thigh high stockings, and nothing else. Your hands are handcuffed in front of you, and you’re on your hands and knees, your legs trembling as you crawl toward Gojo, who is tugging on your leash.

It’s hard to crawl with two huge dildos shoved inside you, one in each hole, both of them vibrating and rotating wildly. Earlier, Gojo got on his knees behind you and jacked off until ready to cum. Then he stuck just the tip into your pussy and filled it full. With his fingers, he scooped up the cum that leaked out and pushed it into your ass. Then he put the dildos in, leaving them to churn and stir up his cum, telling you not to let them fall out.

It feels so good, being full of his cum, the sensation of it swirling inside you. But there’s one more hole that hasn’t had any yet. So you crawl between his spread thighs while he sits on the couch, looking down at you lovingly. You nuzzle his clothed crotch with your face and say, “Please fill my mouth, Satoru~”

You’ve only recently started calling him that. It felt a little weird at first, after calling him Gojo for all these years, but you love the effect it has on him when you purr out his name like that.

You hear his breath catch in his throat, but he manages to compose himself. “Such a naughty, greedy Bunny! I’ve already filled two of your holes! Why don’t I just put the third dildo in your mouth?”

“No, please! The real thing… in my mouth… please,” you whine, staring up at him with glossy eyes. “Your cock tastes so good, Satoru… please feed me your cum!”

His eyes go wide, and you can just barely hear him mutter, “Holy fucking fuck!”

You’ve leaned by now that he’s totally weak to your begging. You’re the one handcuffed and leashed, but Gojo would move heaven and earth to please you, to watch you lose yourself to pleasure.

“Th-then I guess I’ll fill that pretty mouth,” he says, his hands fumbling with his pants in his hurry to get them open. He stands up, towering over you. There’s a faint blush across his pale features, and he’s breathing a little harder than usual as he pulls out his cock. You open your lips, your tongue partially out. He grins. “You’re gonna have to open wider than that, Bunny, or this huge dick won’t fit.”

You lick your lips, then open your mouth wider, and he immediately shoves in. He fucks your mouth, thrusting into it, hitting the back of your throat, groaning when your tongue laps at every inch it can reach.

“F-fuck! Your fucking mouth… so good…”

These moments together are so much hotter now that you can fully enjoy them, knowing he finds you irresistible. It makes you feel sexy, desired, loved. Knowing you can make him lose his mind gets you wet every time.

Just when your jaw is starting to get sore, he pulls out so that he’s barely in your mouth, and shoots his load inside it. There’s so much!

“Don’t swallow it yet,” he says, his face slightly red, his hair messy. He grabs the third dildo and pushes it into your mouth, turning it on low so that it can slowly stir his cum in your mouth, spreading it to every inch. Then he stands back and watches as all three of your holes, full of his seed, are fucked by the gyrating toys.

You moan around the dildo in your mouth, locking eyes with him. He’s panting, his eyes wild with desire. Before your eyes, his cock gets hard again, standing tall and gorgeous just like him.

He drops to his knees behind you and uses his hand to pump the dildo in your ass, in and out, making obscene squelching noises. With his other hand, you feel him pull the dildo out of your pussy. He holds it up, and you look at it over your shoulder. It’s dripping with his cum and your wetness.

“Gotta be inside this pussy,” he mumbles, and then he’s thrusting into you, deep and hard enough to make your body jerk with his motions. You’re sore from being fucked by the dildos, which are almost as big as Gojo’s cock, but you wouldn’t pass this up for anything in the world. He pushes the dildo into your ass to the same rhythm as he fucks your pussy, making your eyes roll back as you release muffled cries.

Gojo is grunting behind you, losing himself, babbling out words.

“Fuck… fuck… I love you so much… this cock belongs to you… every ounce of my cum belongs to you… everything I am… yours…”

He thrusts in deep enough to make you scream, and shoots loads of hot cum into your core. After pulling out, he quickly pulls out the dildo in your ass, sticks his cock in, and shoots out the rest of his load.

He’s panting as he turns you over, so that you’re lying on your back, your legs splayed, creamy cum dripping out of both holes. He reaches over and gently pulls the dildo from your mouth, watching as your tongue continues to lick at it, collecting any remaining cum from the sticky object.

“Just how much do you love my cum?” he asks, staring down at you in awe.

You run your tongue around the edge of your mouth. “It’s delicious,” you say.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he says, pulling you up and unfastening the collar.

You snuggle into his arms as he helps you to the bathroom, enjoying how incredibly sweet he is during after care.

The two of you have come a long way. Even now, you’re not certain you’ve one hundred percent forgiven him. And occasionally you remember something terrible he did to you and it makes you uncomfortable around him for a few days. But he’s putting in the work to make it up to you, and you’re having a wonderful time enjoying being his girlfriend. You couldn’t ask for a happier ending than that.

Tag List:

@suguguro @kaedear @onyxsphynx @poopoobuttsy @butterskyy @collectionofdolls @akaotv @witchbybirth @bloofinntoona @wasurenagusaa @tclbts @tojirin @lucyrocks86 @badbyeyoongi @97britt @aydene @lzaj19 @lyn-lotte @missthatgirl @peachedtv @ladytamayolover @nanam1nx @deegausserr @voids-universe @hinata7346 @maflorex @issracollen @xkittiecatx @ryumurin @emrys3456 @mysecretesc8pe @typicalloser3 @gabriiiiiiii @fvsm4x @tyunhyukamyloves @rottmntrulesall

#gojo x reader #gojo #gojo satoru #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #x reader

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runnning-outof-time · 1 year ago

Text

Back To Her | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by anonymous

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader

Summary: It’s been years since Tommy and (Y/N) have last seen each other…will it be a bad thing now that he’s finally found his way back to her?

Warnings: language, drinking, mentions of minor character death

Word Count: 4355

A/N: oh my does it feel good to be writing again. I don’t quite know what this one is, but the ending of it is one of my absolute favorites. I hope you don’t mind how long it is - it kind of grew a mind of its own. I hope you’ll stick with it though. Enjoy! :)

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged in future stories similar to this one!

Tommy Shelby tugged on his tie, straightening it out as he waited with a lump in his throat. What was taking so long? The maid must've told him to wait in this room several minutes ago. Each second was dragging on and it seemed as though his heart rate was increasing because of it.

This mansion had felt so foreign, yet so familiar at the same time. Even from only being in the foyer and the drawing room, he could see the subtle intricacies that the woman he was meeting used to talk and dream about having one day. Seeing them brought to fruition here - in the grandest scale possible - filled him with a sense of elation, a feeling that had been tucked deeply away and probably hadn't seen the light of day since he last heard her speak. One that he still felt that day, even though the words she spoke struck him deeper than any bullet had.

They hadn't left off on the best of terms, but she wished him the best. Now he was wondering if the time that was put between them turned things sour, and if she would even want him to be here. He'd stand and bear it though. He needed to see her again, even if it meant he'd be admonished for it.

The thought made him tug on his tie again, wanting it to be perfect for her. He wanted everything to be perfect for her. Maybe if she approached him and he asked that question - if everything had turned out to be perfect for her, and she gave her response and nothing else, he’d consider this a victory.

Footsteps then echoed throughout one of the grandiose hallways. Soon enough, a voice was heard: "who are you?"

——

-1919-

"Arthur Shelby! I'm going to need you to tell me what you said last night at the Garrison, but this time don't leave the parts that Tommy wouldn't want me to hear out," (Y/N) announced as she marched into the Shelby family's Watery Lane home.

She hoped that the eldest Shelby sibling was present and heard her exclamation - after all, he wasn't in his other, usual places. Her hopes were fulfilled when she found him draped across the couch in the sitting room; looking quite like death personified.

"Oi, what're you screamin' for, (Y/N)?" Arthur questioned, just barely lifting his head up from the couch's arm.

"I'm unhappy, Arthur," she started with a huff, dropping her hands to her hips before she continued, "you had me up half the night just thinking, and now Tommy's been acting weird around me...I need to get to the bottom of this."

"The bottom of what?" he still sounded confused.

"The plan of Tommy's you were telling me about," she wasted no time in telling him. "You were saying something...something about an opportunity being dropped into his lap; one that doesn't come around often," she continued on, hoping to jog his memory, "what was the opportunity, Arthur?"

Arthur furrowed his brows together as he racked his brain. What was he telling her last night? He couldn't quite remember. She was looking at him expectantly though, and he became more worried by the minute that she'd pounce if he made her wait for too long.

"What has Tommy been planning?" she asked another question after a few moments of silence had passed.

"He's..." he trailed off, swallowing as he prepared himself for what would follow, and also hoping that the pause would buy him more time, "(Y/N), he's found something, and it's something that's going to help us all out."

"What is it, Arthur?" she asked for more detail, becoming slightly upset that it wasn't shared with her outright.

"They're guns," he finally told the secret, "government guns, and at first I didn't understand why he was keeping them, but Tommy's got a plan, he's..."

"Oh he's got a plan, huh?" (Y/N) cut into his statement, a snort following her question.

"He does! He said that he's going to keep them in our corner and use them to bargain. Polly's tried to tell him to get rid of them, but he won't listen. It's no use going against it; we might as well ride it out," he tried to get her to understand how he was looking at the situation.

(Y/N) wasn't buying into it. "This is how it's always been, Arthur...Tommy has a plan, Tommy stays steadfast on said plan, and then usually the bloody plan blows up in all of our faces!"

"This one feels different though, (Y/N)," Arthur stated, sounding a bit like he wasn't up for the argument he was currently in.

"I think I'll have to be the judge of that," she huffed, running a stressed hand over her forehead, "these plans'll be what kills him one day...I just know it," she muttered then, shaking her head as she looked down to the ground.

Arthur sat up straight after hearing her musings. His brows were furrowed as he trained his eyes on her. He could tell the amount of struggle that was going on inside her mind, and it was clear how Tommy's dealings were affecting her. "Here, come have a seat," he said, waving his arm in her direction as a physical cue.

(Y/N) glanced over at him, seeing the compassionate look on his face. She then exhaled a sigh and made her way over to the empty space on the couch, sitting down and resting her head against its back.

"Tommy and his plans can get to be a bit much," he started off. (Y/N) held back her snort. "He's wantin' us to trust him on this one though. We've gotta see it through."

(Y/N) was unsure of what to say. So many things were running through her mind at the moment; so many different scenarios and ways that this plan could bring about a terrible end. Instead of voicing any of those worries, she said nothing.

—

Tommy was sitting at one of the main tables in the betting shop, reading through some of the recent race outlooks when the door to the shop opened. He looked up and found (Y/N) walking further into the room. Before he could say anything, she stormed right past him, going over to the doors that connected to the Shelby's living quarters so that she could lock them. He sat and watched as she moved about the room, checking the various doors and making sure that they were all locked.

"Something happening?" he decided to ask her after she went back to the door she entered through and locked that one as well, "anything I should be worried about?"

"No," her answer was abrupt, "just wanted to make sure that I could speak to you without any interruptions," she moved over to the table he was sitting at.

Tommy watched her intently as she sat down across from him, clasping her hands together on top of the table as she looked at him expectantly. "Heard anything from Ada?" he decided to ask, wondering if this could be about his sister, who'd been effectively avoiding him for the last few weeks.

"No, this isn't about her," she answered, shaking her head slightly. She couldn't help but feel a tinge of sadness at the mention of her best friend, who'd practically disappeared. She remembered the last time they spoke; how Ada had told her that she needed to break away, to live and make decisions for herself. She was happy for her friend in doing that, but it didn't make the distance hurt less.

"What is it then?" he asked her, his eyebrows raised slightly as he waited for what she had to say.

"Pol said you're going to the derby..." she started off, trying to keep her voice level while her stomach did flips. She knew that this conversation wasn't going to be an easy one, but it was one she needed to have.

"I am...John and Arthur are also. There's an important matter of business involving Kimber that we need to see to," he answered.

Fucking Kimber. Hearing his name made her frustrated. It had been the talk of every family meeting since he found his way into Birmingham a few weeks ago. "She also told me that you're taking Grace. Tommy why are you bringing the fucking barmaid with you to the races?" she asked the question that had been stewing in her mind since she became aware of these plans.

"I can't tell you, (Y/N)," he responded, speaking in a low voice so as to keep his frustration down...he couldn't keep having all of this questioning happen.

"You do know what this looks like though, don't you? You, taking the barmaid to the races instead of the woman you're with; the woman you've been with. This will make people 'round here talk, Tommy, and I'm not sure if I'll be able to take that. Tell me why...tell me, why her?" (Y/N) doubled down, feeling more and more sick with each word she'd said.

She'd been with him for years now. They’d gotten together before the war and she stayed steadfast by his side through the conflict, promising him that she'd be there for him once he came out on the other side. There were hard times...really hard times, but she relented, staying by his side through them. Now she was starting to panic. Was he going to throw it all away over a barmaid?

"They'll talk, but their words will hold no truth, love," Tommy decided to reply to one part of her statement. Of course, it wasn't the one (Y/N) was looking for answers to.

"Why are you bringing her?" she asked yet again, shortening down her questioning to get right to the point.

"I can't say why. It's part of the plan, and you just need to trust me on it." (Y/N) opened her mouth to speak, but he continued before she could get a word out, "this is as hard on me as it is you."

(Y/N) pursed her lips upon hearing the second half of his statement. She didn't quite know what to think and was shocked that he could make a blanket statement like that one. It took a few moments for her to speak again. "That's rich of you to say, Tommy. For you to use such a statement to try and compare your feelings and thoughts to mine, especially when you know what it is that's going on. The plan is yours...you don't need the answers. And I've said it before that it'll be these bloody plans of yours that'll put you in the ground one day. I..." she paused, her voice wavering and all of the venom that had been building up vanished at once as she thought of what she'd say next. She took a deep breath before continuing. It's for the best. "I don't think I can be around it for one moment longer."

The words pained her to say, but she knew that they had to be said. And immediately she was having second thoughts on uttering them when she saw the drastic shift in Tommy's eyes. He may have closed himself off since coming home from France; considering himself dead and taking everything else that came to him as extra, but (Y/N) knew that she could still see his emotions through his eyes...and right now it looked as if he'd just taken a grave shot to the heart.

"What?" was all he was able to ask, his brows furrowing deeply together.

"I can't do this anymore...I can't jump from plan to plan and hope that you'll make it out alive from it. I love you too much to see it through. I think I need to go my own way now."

"It'll just be this one. One and done, (Y/N)," he tried to speak with as much reassurance as he could muster.

(Y/N) shook her head, a solemn look on her face, "it's never just 'one and done' with you, Tommy. You're a gambling man...you always have been. This plan'll work out, because they always seem to for you, and you'll become hungry for more. You'll keep going until it kills you, and I can't be around for that," she rehashed her words, showing him that she was staying steadfast on her stance. She then stood up and reached over the table to where his hand was sitting on it. Gingerly, she took hold of it, hating that doing so also brought their faces closer together. "I wish you all the best, Tommy, I really do. I love you," she spoke from the heart, her eyes not straying from his, even when her voice broke as she said the final three words.

She left without giving him the chance to respond. It was almost as if she knew that his words would pull her back in and assure her that everything would be ok...Tommy could convince someone just like that. But if she had stuck around, she would have seen that he had nothing left to say. He went to repeat the three word phrase that she ended off with, but it died on his lips as he watched what was possibly the best thing in his life walk away.

——

-1922-

Anxiousness was coursing through (Y/N)'s body. She fluffed out her dress for probably the hundredth time and listened to her friend tell her, yet again, that it was going to be ok. She didn't know why she was nervous. This was supposed to be the best day of her life, right? She'd found a man - a good man - and he was head over heels in love with her. Hell, she felt the same for him. Agreeing to marry him came without a doubt in her mind. So why was she a bundle of nerves now that she was only moments away from walking down the aisle?

The doors opened as she was trying to answer that question. There was no time left. In a short time, she'd become Mrs. Harold Drimouth.

——

-1925-

It felt good to have the family around again. It didn't take much for Tommy to notice the difference. Arrow House hadn't been this full of life since before he lost his wife.

Everyone had traveled in for the Christmas holiday. It was a big feat, but Tommy agreed to host everyone at his home. Charlie was thankful for the influx of children, and Tommy was happy he didn't have to be alone; especially after everything that occurred in Small Heath in the months prior. It was so far from a cause for celebration, but celebrate seemed to be all that they could do. They'd made it out of the vendetta alive...although that couldn't be said for every member of the Shelby family.

After dinner and the opening of the presents, several of the adults had decided to spend some time in one of the quieter sitting rooms while the children played with their toys in the adjacent room.

"If you really think of it...a celebration of this size wouldn't have even been thought of for us ten years ago," Ada mused, steering their previous conversation into a new direction.

"So much happens in that span of time. You only start to notice the differences when you look back on it," Polly added, looking at Ada and sending her a nod.

"We have Tommy and his ambitions to thank for it," Arthur called attention to the host of the party, raising his glass towards his younger brother, sparking a similar reaction from the rest in the room. Tommy only nodded his head in acknowledgement of his brother's statement, holding his whiskey up with the rest of the group before he went back to being focused on the fireplace.

"Do you remember that one Christmas we had back in Small Heath...before the war?" Ada then attempted to jog the group's memory, "(Y/N) and I stayed up half the night trying to get the gifts ready just to have John..." she paused, a smile forming on her face at the memory of her late brother while she took a moment to recollect her thoughts, "come in and start rooting through them because he couldn't remember if he'd gotten anything for anyone. I remember being so upset, but (Y/N) was ready to do them all up again."

"(Y/N)," Arthur began, letting a breath of a laugh out in the remembrance of her, "she was one of those kinds of women that you only meet once in your life."

"It's a shame no one kept in contact," Polly commented with a shake of her head.

"She left without a word. We couldn't have connected with her if we'd tried," Ada remarked, trying to stay stoic, but the guilt was apparent in her expression. Out of all of the Shelbys - excluding Tommy, obviously - (Y/N)'s leaving impacted her the most. They'd been through thick and thin together, so to come home and find that she was just gone struck a deep chord within the younger of the two women.

"You've not spoken to her at all, Tom, have ya?" Arthur decided to question the person who'd seen her last.

Tommy's gaze snapped away from the fire at the sound of his name, and although it took him a few beats to recall what the question was, he ultimately shook his head. "No," he started, shaking his head again, "no...she wished me the best and then she left. I've not heard from her since," he finished his statement by tipping back the rest of the contents in his glass. He then silently cursed it for there not being nearly as much alcohol as he needed at the moment.

All this talk of (Y/N) was leaving him reeling. From the first mention of her name, he'd been transported back to the times that he shared with her. She was his first...truly everything, and you really can't forget someone like that, no matter how much you try to, or who you attempt to move on with. Those memories were still as raw as the day they were made.

And so as the rest of his family continued on with sharing memories of the years gone by, Tommy found himself lost in a whirlwind of questions. He couldn't keep himself from wondering what had happened to (Y/N) since he last saw her, and how she fared out once she went her own way.

If he knew one thing for certain though, it was that he now needed to see her again. His main goal now was to find his way back to her.

——

"Who are you?" the voice came from the left side of the room. Tommy's eyes snapped over to see a young girl, probably around the age of four, standing in the opening of the hallway. Her head was tilted slightly, and he had to suppress a chuckle. She looked exactly like Charlie did when he was questioning something.

"I'm, um..." he began to speak, but more voices cut him off and made him look to his right.

"I was unaware of there being any scheduled visitors today." He knew that voice...he could recognize it anywhere.

"I know, Ms. Drimouth...this visitor was not on the schedule," the voice of the maid who'd escorted Tommy into the drawing room answered as their footsteps came closer.

Then she appeared. The breath instantly got caught in his throat when his eyes fell on her. She looked even more beautiful than the day she left. Seeing her made him feel like he was frozen. His mind was empty and now completely taken up by her.

"I'm so sorry, if I'd known I was expecting company, I would have worn something a bit more appropriate," (Y/N) stated, her eyes focused on her house dress as she fidgeted with it, trying to make herself look more acceptable.

"No, you look fine...beautiful, actually," Tommy said the first thing that came to his mind, and his words made (Y/N)'s eyes quickly snap up to see him. If he thought his breath was taken away before, now he was sure that his lungs had collapsed.

(Y/N) froze the second she saw who was waiting for her. She never thought she'd see Tommy Shelby again, let alone have him turn up at her estate unexpectedly. Everything else in the room seemed to disappear as her eyes stayed locked on him.

"Who is this, mummy?" the child's voice broke both adults out of their trances, making them realize that they weren't the only two in the room.

(Y/N) managed to break her eyes away from her first love to see her daughter, Margaret, looking between them in confusion. "Darling, this…this is an old friend. His name is Tommy, Tommy Shelby," she stuttered out an introduction. ‘Old friend’ was nowhere near what he was to her, but the label would do for now.

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Shelby," Margaret spoke properly, a smile present on her face as she looked up at the man dressed in black as if he was also a friend of hers.

"You as well, Margaret," Tommy managed to pry his eyes from (Y/N) for a few moments so that he could address the child.

"Maggie, why don't you go and find Bear to play with?" (Y/N) suggested, knowing that she didn't want to have her daughter present while she reconnected with Tommy.

"Yes, mummy," Margaret nodded before she exited the room the way she'd come in.

Neither Tommy nor (Y/N) knew what to say next. It felt like hours had passed with them being lost in each other's gaze before (Y/N) finally broke the silence, "you...you found me?" her voice inflected to make her words sound like a question, but she wasn't so sure if she intended it to be.

"I did. I...I went looking for you, exhausted every connection I had. I had to find you, (Y/N). I had to see you again," he answered her, not caring at the moment how this admission sounded.

"May I ask why?" she questioned, hating that the words sounded a little more snide that she wanted them to, "why now...after all these years have passed?"

"I wanted to apologize to you; for all that I put you through back then, and for the things that I left out. You deserved to know," he answered, his words holding an utmost sincerity.

"I wished you the best, and you went and made quite the name for yourself, Tommy Shelby," she commented, a smile forming on her face. She couldn't help but be proud of him. "Your name was spoken quite a few times amidst my late husband's circle."

"Late husband?" he asked, putting emphasis on the first word.

"He passed in 1924. Complications of an illness. Margaret was only two," she informed him, a tinge of sadness present in her voice. Tommy nodded at the information, a knowing look forming on his features. "Do you have anyone?" she decided to ask, hating that her heart rate increased while waiting for his answer.

"I did, but she died. I have a son, Charlie...he's four now," he offered some of his own life story.

"My daughter will be four come the end of the year," (Y/N) couldn't help but add, a small smile now present as she spoke of her pride and joy. Tommy sent a similar smile in response. It was so good to see her smile again.

Silence fell between them then, but it was one that felt comfortable. Tommy held his gaze on her for a few moments before ultimately being the one who broke it: "I, uh...I won't waste anymore of your time. I just wanted to say that I was sorry," he said to her, hating that it felt like his heart was breaking because she was leaving his life all over again.

Nothing more was said as he moved past her, heading to the archway of the foyer. He was just about to step through it when her voice stopped him: "Tommy wait!" it came out a little bit louder than she wanted it to, but it did its job in getting him to turn back around.

"Yeah?" his question came out like a breath, his heart rate increasing again.

"Maybe...maybe we should have dinner some time. There's a lot of catching up that's needed to be done between us," she offered a suggestion, biting on her lip to conceal her smile.

"I'd like to see you again, (Y/N)," he agreed with her in an instant, a ghost of a smile forming on his face.

"Very well," she tried to keep calm, but inside she was as giddy as a school girl, "how does tomorrow sound?"

"Perfect," he nodded.

——

-1927-

Anxiousness was the furthest thing from (Y/N)'s mind as she stood behind the closed doors of the church. Ada told her multiple times that everything was going to plan and that she'd be getting her turn next. (Y/N) didn't care to hear about the perfection...she'd go forward with doing this if it were happening in a field amidst a rainstorm.

She didn't know how she managed to have this be her life, how she had gotten lucky enough to be given this second chance. The doors opened one last time to let Margaret and Charlie walk down the aisle with the flowers and rings. Is this what the best day of your life is supposed to feel like?

The doors opened as she was trying to answer that question. There was no time left. In a short time, she'd become Mrs. Thomas Shelby.

She couldn't wait.

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @itscheybaby @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @acewritesfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @areyenotfondofmelobster @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @iambored24601 @shaddixlife

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kedsandtubesocks · 8 months ago

Text

seasons of you (year 1 - winter)

Blacksmith!Frankie Morales x F!Reader

summary: your first winter in the valley brings in a frosty breeze & a push towards a certain blacksmith

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI, stardew valley AU, reader is a farmer & has a family but no physical description, shy & sweet!Frankie, major pining & yearning, friends to something more, Frankie being previously married/a bit secretive about his life, gift exchange as love language, use of nickname (Frankie calls reader “little farmer” affectionately but it’s no reflection on reader’s size), blooming romance

word count: 5.6k

a/n: we’ve arrived to Frankie’s first piece in our Stardew AU series! We’re starting ‘in the middle of things’ & it’s meant to show how slow/shy our relationship with Frankie unfolds that romance just starts rolling now, plus I needed Frankie’s story to begin this way so something else can maybe unfold in year two but that’s all I’m gonna saying lol, again couldn’t have done this without @lowlights @swiftispunk @perotovar & @burntheedges you babes are my guiding stars always and I’m eternally grateful. And to you, if you’re reading this, thank you too lovely

Snow crunches under your boots and the chilly air seeping through your coat feels different. This would be your first serious winter storm and you already sense it approaching.

Yanking open the blacksmith’s door, a wave of heat washes over and you sigh.

Thankfully Frankie’s shop is still open and you almost cry relieved.

“Sorry!” You apologize walking further towards the counter. “I know there’s five minutes left before closing, but I just wanted to swing by!”

You wanted to pick up your newly forged ax before the storm hit and of course…

You wanted to see him.

Autumn kept you so busy with the farm and the fall festival. Now you hope to see more of your favorite blacksmith.

Waiting for him, your eyes wander.

The shop, with its eternal flame flickering, holds so much personality in its walls. A military pilot flag hangs by the front. The low radio plays a soft rock ballad. A bulletin board by the side of the counter is covered in various flyers and photos. Your favorite snapshots are one of a smiling little baby girl with sweet chubby cheeks you still haven’t gotten to ask Frankie who she is. There’s another photo of a group of men in military uniform.

It’s all so familiar and welcoming now.

With all the time in the mines, you wonder if maybe your pickaxe needs work too. Sliding your backpack off, you examine your trusty tool. Worn, but not weathered, the steel speaks of the craftsmanship and skill of the blacksmith who first forged it for you.

“You waiting for that tool to do something or should I leave you two alone?”

Frankie.

You fight back a smile when his warm deep teasing voice floats in.

Frankie wasn’t this easy going with you at first. He kept his distance, was polite but rather reserved.

“He’s just shy. He was like that when I first moved in too,” Leah, your closest friend here in the valley, reassured you one night at the saloon.

Now those beautiful gem eyes of Francisco Morales blaze straight at you as he walks towards the counter. Wearing his trademark baseball cap you playfully glare at him.

“I’m just checking to see if I need to complain to my blacksmith about my pickaxe needing work.” You quip back to him.

“Oh well shit, thank god that isn’t me.” Frankie smirks and you snort at his comment.

Frankie reminds you of the flames and steel he works with. Hard working and gently intense, yet a warmth gleams beneath him and fills an entire room just like the heat from his kilns.

“You just had to come in five minutes before I closed huh?” Frankie sighs dramatically.

You think he’s teasing but guilt still strikes you quick. Rambling out apologies, you scramble to explain how it’s mainly for precaution with the storm coming.

“I can always come back later!” You urge panicking.

He chuckles, cozily deep, and you sputter to a stop.

“I kid little farmer, I kid.”

That nickname he so casually gave to you just this month sparks an electric warmth through your entire body. You weakly laugh back, not able to fully process a reply.

Frankie’s gorgeous features, his striking nose, and his warm eyes disarm you in a way that makes your knees want to fold.

He moves around the tables and workbenches to pull out your ax.

“There it is!” You happily cheer.

Frankie even playfully shows off the sleek new tool like he’s a hostess in a daytime game show and you clap appreciatively while you laugh. It surprises you how silly sometimes Frankie can be.

Moving back to the counter he places your ax onto it. Then he leans towards you and begins explaining what upgrades he did.

You should be listening, but you can’t. Not with him leaning so close to you.

You’ve had an embarrassing crush on Frankie since the first moment Mayor Lewis introduced you to him. But with how busy you’ve been settling into the valley, along with how shy and reserved Frankie is, your feelings simply have stayed crystallizing inside you.

Frankie’s diligent eyes are so focused on his work and it’s beautiful. He’s beautiful. How dedicated he is to his craft, how quietly passionate he is, you yearn to fall into him more.

Suddenly Frankie’s eyes flicker up and catch you staring at him. In a panic your gaze snaps down to your tool.

“Yup! Looks like it can still cut a tree! Good job, Morales.” You lamely reply and Frankie snorts.

You do sincerely thank him and even offer to get him coffee for making him stay this late.

Frankie waves you off casually. “Maybe next time, besides you gotta get home before the storm hits.”

He’s right. There's still so much you need to do before the night comes. The clatter of Frankie slowly shutting everything down for the night draws you out of your thoughts.

“Do you need any help?” You offer.

“Nah, I’m good. Plus I don’t need your pretty hands getting burned.” Frankie replies back.

Although he’s not looking at you, his sly compliment sends a spark through your body.

Scrambling to put your ax in its guard and then shoving it into your backpack, you thank Frankie again and plan to quietly leave.

“Wait!” Frankie suddenly calls out and you freeze.

“Wait, don’t head out yet. Let me walk you home.”

The chill from outside settles into the shop now that the fires are extinguished. Yet, Frankie’s words ignite a dizzying heat.

“Oh no it’s okay!” You quickly stammer out as a nervous energy spikes in you.

You know he lives besides the forge. It wouldn’t make sense for him to walk you home then have to head the way back here.

The lights from the back area turn off and Frankie already walks out towards you with his coat on.

Your eyes go wide.

“Come on.” He gently nudges you with his kind eyes and your body moves on autopilot.

Once outside the cold galvanizes you. The sky above stretches out a misty blue while the edges of evening’s midnight coloring slowly creeps in.

The entire walk back to your farm Frankie stays in step with you. The conversation is light, easy, simple talk of how his and your day went. Your heart hammers in your chest. Yet, it’s comforting to have someone beside you. He’s warm and stays close.

Now your farm stretches before you a soft welcome home. Frankie, like the gentleman he is, walks you to the door.

Appreciative, you warmly thank him and wish him a safe trip back home.

“Thanks and stay warm, little farmer.” He grins softly, kind.

After a sweet wave goodbye to him, you walk off the porch to do all the final errands before you call it a night.

“Wait, what’re you doing?” Frankie suddenly calls out and curiosity colors his voice.

You glance back and see he hasn’t moved an inch.

With an eased sleepy smile you tell him you have a few last minute things you need to do. Like check on your winter seeds, double check the coop and then make sure the pipes are covered.

“You need help?” He warmly asks concerned and sincere.

“Oh no, I’m good I promise!” You reply. If you were braver you’d joke about not wanting to hurt his pretty hands.

“Besides, you need to get home.” You firmly tell him.

It’s getting darker, not completely night out, but you feel guilty for Frankie walking out here.

So with one final sigh you give him a warm goodbye.

“Stay warm tonight, Morales.”

Frankie quietly grins back and you hope he makes it home safe. Now your focus turns to the small field and you kneel before it.

Your winter seeds aren’t ready just yet. A dread fills you wondering if they will last against the storm.

“What are you growing?”

Frankie.

You didn’t even hear his footsteps in the snow. Whipping your head up you watch Frankie lean down to squat beside you.

“You should be walking home!” You cry out surprised.

Frankie shrugs sleepily. “It’s still early, I’ll be fine.”

You make an indignant squeak that makes him chuckle. Frankie’s eyes return to the little saplings still making their way through the snow, stubbornly growing against the harsh winter.

“They’re just winter seeds.” You sigh explaining how you’ve been growing them mainly for the experience and money.

“You think they’re gonna make it?” He asks gently.

You hope so.

You’re about to get up when Frankie quickly stands above with his hand outstretched to you. Even though your hands are gloved and so are his, a flutter runs through your chest when you place your hand in his. Frankie lifts you up effortlessly and you thank him, trying to steady yourself.

“Alright, what’s next?” Frankie asks light.

“For you to go home, Morales!” You laugh.

“Well you’re walking towards the barn so…kinda doesn’t seem like you’re finished yet.” Frankie comments almost shyly as he stays walking beside you.

“I’m not, but I don’t need your help. Go home!” You urge with a weak laugh. Frankie simply shrugs.

Sliding open the coop door, warmth begs you to come inside. You’re thankful for investing in those barn heaters.

“Your chickens are so big.” Frankie admires quietly in awe at the sleeping birds.

You smile while double checking the coop. Everything seems secure and safe for whatever might come this way tonight.

Stepping back outside the cold air seems still, quiet.

“You need to head home.” You tell him sternly, more worried than ever about his walk back to town.

“What’s next?” He asks with steeled resolve in his voice with no sign of leaving.

“Go home Francisco.” You firmly urge saying his full name.

But then you catch the sight of your pipes and sigh. So you almost did forget to wrap them.

“You didn't wrap your pipes?” He sounds a bit worried.

“I thought I did earlier…” Now you’re extra grateful for double checking.

When the first snow came at the start of winter, everyone reassured you the pipes would be fine. It was during harder snow storms, blizzards, that you needed to be careful. And now one approaches fast.

Frankie follows you inside the house to grab the necessary materials.

You can’t even process him being in your home for the first time. Simply on a mission you and him work together swiftly grabbing duck tape, a ratty old towel and head to the pipes.

It’s a swift team effort. In minutes, the pipes are securely wrapped safely and snug. You and him even share a triumphant high five.

“I wish I could invite you in for a thank you hot chocolate but you need to head home now.” You press.

Frankie, with his hands in his coat pockets, shrugs easily.

“I can stay for some thank you hot coco.” He offers.

“You gotta get home before the storm hits!” You shriek.

He waves you off casually. “It’s not coming till later tonight I’ll be fine. Now come on, don’t you wanna impress me with your hot chocolate skills?”

The smirk he gives you is so boyishly charming, almost like he’s daring you to invite him in.

This side of him is rare. You’ve only seen him get this smug and cocky at the saloon during a game of darts. Now your heart flutters fast in your chest.

“Come on,” He pouts. “Think of this as a way to help keep me warm on the walk back.”

He makes a point. The panic of wanting him to make it home safe before the storm, becomes smaller against the thought of spending more time with this man.

To have this man in your home.

So with a sigh of defeat you crack. Nudging your chin towards the door, you let Frankie in.

He’s in your home now. You need to stay composed.

You do have budding feelings for him, something that’s evolved out of the simple crush you had. And having him here in your home feels like dipping your toe into the deep end of a pool before jumping in. But you shake those thoughts away.

“Your place is nice.” Frankie admires and you thank him.

It’s still small, cozy now that you’re slowly allowing yourself to fully settle into the old bones of your grandpa’s home.

You want to say more until Frankie’s stomach suddenly growls.

Looking at him with surprised eyes, he stares back with beautiful eyes the size of the full moons.

“Shit.”

You laugh at his panicked response.

“You okay with maybe staying and having a quick dinner or should I really kick you out so you can head home?” You leave the option up to him, place the ball in his court.

Frankie with the most bashful smile slides off his coat.

“Dinner sounds great, little farmer.”

Your heart floats up and gets tangled in your throat, but it’s incredible.

You have the leftover lasagna Evelyn gave you as a thank you. But you also think of the soup recipe you've been dying to make for this weather.

So you leave it up to your guest for the night.

“Soup or leftover lasagna?” You offer light.

Frankie’s eyebrows scrunched together adorable, thinking hard at the two options, and you keep back a giggle.

“Will the soup take you a while to make?” He sounds sweetly concerned.

You swear it will take less than twenty minutes.

“Soup it is.” Frankie grins and it touches his eyes.

You begin grabbing the various ingredients and hate how hyper aware you feel even in your own house.

“So what can I help with?” Frankie now slides beside you and you almost squeak in surprise.

For someone who makes so much noise when he works, you find he’s rather quiet, swift.

“You’re my guest, so don’t worry. Plus you’ve helped enough!” You shoo him away and don’t miss the way he playfully glares at you.

Conversation again unfolds effortlessly with him. Frankie talks about how Mayor Lewis was in the shop earlier bragging about you hitting a full year in the valley.

“And here I thought everyone had stopped gossiping about me.” You snort lightly and start grabbing the bowls.

It will be a full year since you moved to your grandpa’s family farm. However, you wonder when the newness of you living here will subside.

“There’s… still some gossip of course. Small town after all.” Frankie admits shyly, like a school boy admitting a secret.

“But don’t worry, I don’t let any of ‘em talk bad about you in my shop.” Frankie, endearingly sweet, adds. His words knock you breathless and you almost drop the bowls.

“I knew I could count on you, Morales.” You manage to say with a grin.

Thankfully quick, the soup turns out comforting and delicious. Frankie even gushes about how incredible it is and your ego inflates wild.

“Thanks so much for dinner.” Frankie beams with the brightness of a sun.

“Please, I’m the one who’s thankful for all your help.” You earnestly tell him.

“Plus, it’s nice to have good company for dinner.” You add.

“I understand,” Frankie nods. “Gets a bit quiet around my place too. S’nice to change it up.”

A dual sided emotion settles in you. You ache understanding but also yearn to uncover more about this beautiful and sturdy man.

Before you can dive more into this discussion, Frankie’s phone rings wild and loud. Hastily scrambling to grab it, once he discovers who’s calling his face drops for a flicker of a moment.

“Sorry little farmer, but gotta excuse myself real quick is that alright?” His voice wavers.

Of course you earnestly reassure him and even direct him to the bathroom so he can talk in private. Frankie thanks you graciously then rushes out.

The house is quiet and he didn’t fully close the bathroom door fully. So his conversation leaks out enough for you to catch it.

“Wait, so you wannna just spring this on me now?” His voice slices out sharp. You’ve never heard Frankie sound this upset.

“Yes of course I’m gonna take her. But do you know how fucking shitty this is, Diana? Did you even think about my schedule before you fucking planned this trip?” He snaps.

You’ve also never heard him curse and it snaps your snipe straight. He sighs incredibly frustrated and angered, allowing whoever is on the phone to talk.

“Oh yeah, yeah, real fucking nice. Always make me the bad guy, right?”

Then Frankie starts speaking fast and low in Spanish you can’t catch what he’s saying. His tone however feels barbed and venomous.

So many questions bubble up. You believe you heard the name ‘Diana’ but this could be a conversation about anything.

Now thinking about it, even though you’ve been here almost a full year… you don’t know much about Frankie personally and that truth sinks your heart.

Silence now settles into your home until Frankie’s footsteps echo returning down the hall.

“I’m so sorry.” Frankie’s voice jolts the air but with a deep sadness. “I think I’m gonna have to save that cup of hot chocolate for another day.”

You kind of figured. Besides, you didn’t want him to get caught in the storm.

Outside the air has chilled, but thankfully the snow hasn’t begun.

“Had a great time tonight, thanks again for having me for.” An earnest grace radiates from his words.

You’re the one who’s truly thankful for him and you repeatedly tell him that.

Unfortunately a dread hits you. You want to make sure he makes it home. Your worry must be evident on your face because Frankie’s eyes cloud with caution.

“Wait, what’s wrong?”

When you tell him, a beautiful relief melts on Frankie’s face that you almost wish you could capture.

“Oh come on, that’s easy to fix, little farmer.”

He pulls out his phone and hands it to you.

He’s asking for your number.

Your heart beats so rapidly in your ears when you type your digits in.

“I’ll message you when I get home. Promise.” His warm voice is gilded with truth.

“Stay safe okay Frankie?” You tell him and his gorgeous eyes soften.

“Yeah, will do. And you stay safe too okay, little farmer? Stay warm and if you need anything.”

He holds his phone up and playfully wiggles it, a signal to say you should call him. You smile unbearably big and stay on the porch watching him leave until he vanishes from your sight.

You keep busy so you’re not simply staring at your phone waiting for his message. You clean up the remnants of dinner and feel comforted seeing two bowls in your sink.

Then your phone chimes and you scramble.

An message from an unknown number:

[Made it home safe!]

Another message flickers in.

[Also this is Frankie btw :)]

[Hi! 🪓]

The little ax emoji he adds makes you giggle giddy over how adorable this man can be.

You add his name and contact info into your phone. It warms you better than any sip of hot chocolate could.

- ❆ -

“Why do we even gotta celebrate ice?” One of the kids, you think Vincent, shouts that as you reach the edge of the forest and you snicker.

When you heard about the festival of ice, it simply sounded like a way for the town to break up the winter days. But it also reminded you how earnest and endearing the town can be.

Your heart jumps fast spotting Frankie bundled in his cozy jacket. He stands close to Willy and the two of them talk low, completely engaged with each other.

Whatever they’re discussing seems serious, evident in Frankie’s hard frown and Willy’s unusual somber expression. You decide not to interrupt them.

The fishing game is the highlight of the festival and to no shock the town’s head fisherman wins.

“It’s rigged.” You tease Willy and his hearty laugh is contagious.

“Don’t worry, next year you’ll be puttin’ me to shame.” Willy proudly declares.

When the event concludes for the day, Frankie already walks off without saying a word to you.

You try not to think about it too much.

When you’re about to head to bed, you find a message alert on your phone.

Frankie:

[Good try with the fishing tournament today! Sorry I didn’t get to talk to you today… have a lot of stuff going on. Also Willy wins every year. Think Lewis even adds fish into his crate to make sure it happens lol you’re the real winner in my book ]

You laugh as warmth balloons rapidly in your chest.

This message feels like a true victory for the day and it carries you for the rest of the week. Especially with how hard and brisk this final season of the year is.

Everyone warned you winter would be tough, and with your greenhouse still unfixed you’re realizing how true the warning is.

The days drag and bleed together. You throw yourself into the mines trying to gather more resources but that drains you fast. So you start doing a few errands around town to break up the days.

When Frankie requests a certain amount of wood you scramble quickly to complete the errand.

Inside the blacksmith shop, the familiar warmth greets you. However when Frankie walks out, a weariness looms over him. Heavy bangs hang around his eyes even as he smiles thin.

“Hey.” His voice is weary.

“Hey.” You reply back hesitantly. “I uh…have the wood you asked for.”

“Oh shit really?” He perks up. “Thanks, little farmer.”

You beam proud knowing you managed to at least brighten his day a little.

“Wait here, let me get your payment.”

You almost want to tell him that wasn’t necessary, but Frankie scrambles for his wallet.

“So, how ya been?” He asks.

“Good.” You partially lie. “How have you been?”

“Good.” He answers quickly, however you sense a lie buried.

You weakly smile. Exhausted, Frankie barely grins back and a pang pierces through you.

“Hey… Frankie.” You begin weakly. Frankie, midway pulling out your payment, freezes and blinks towards you.

“Yeah, little farmer what’s up?”

You know this might not mean much but you want to at least tell him.

“I just…” the words get stuck in your throat but with a deep inhale you unclog them.

“You just seem tired. I appreciate how hard you work but I just hope you get some rest when you can.” You tell him earnestly. “And… if there’s anything bothering you, I just wanted you to know you can always talk to me.”

You finish and hope you didn’t overstep.

Frankie’s gemstone eyes flicker stunned and then he sighs.

For the first time, Frankie slips his very notable baseball cap off and runs a hand over his hair.

His soft hat hair, the way you get this new glimpse of Frankie, lights something within your chest. You’ve never seen him without his cap. When he slips the baseball hat back on, his eyes seem cloudy and downcast.

“Thanks little farmer, appreciate it.” He mutters with another sigh. “It’s just stupid shit with my ex wife that’s taking longer than I expected to work out.”

Frankie’s words catapult you straight out of the atmosphere and your blood runs cold.

Ex wife.

Frankie was married before.

“I shouldn’t let it bother me and I don’t wanna be that type of ex husband, but holy shit she can be so damn difficult.” He shakes his head.

This feels like you’re meeting him again for the first time. But you’re grateful he’s sharing this with you.

“I’m sorry you have to deal with this and with her being difficult.” You reply with a soft comfort.

“You’re a good guy Frankie. I hope she doesn’t make you forget that.” You add, meaning those words.

You and him might have just recently become closer, but this entire year you’ve been living in Pelican Town Frankie’s been so sincerely kind. Always being patient with you and how awful you sometimes are to your poor tools. Even just seeing his soft shy smile when you run into him has brightened your day many times.

Frankie’s eyes finally flicker to you. They search your face like he’s waiting for you to react.

His mouth opens slightly.

Then he says your name, breathes it out, and it kickstarts a wild flutter in your heart.

But the door suddenly yanks open wildly behind you, cutting him off rapidly.

Robin, the town’s ever handy carpenter, arrives with a warm welcome drawing all the attention to her. The moment flutters away with her entrance. With a fast goodbye to Frankie and a swift warm greeting to Robin, you scramble fast to leave.

“Wait I didn’t-”

You don’t even wait to hear what Frankie has to say before you’re out of the door and back into the cold winter air. With so many thoughts buzzing in your head like angry hornets you simply head to the mines.

You stay there until the dead of night and drag your body back to farm. Even with how tired you are, your mind still thinks of a certain blacksmith.

The next morning there are two letters waiting for you. One is from Lewis reminding you of the upcoming Winter Star festival. The other is from Frankie.

Your heart jumps fast.

Little farmer,

Thanks for thinking of me and wanting to look out for me. Appreciate it a lot. Also you forgot your payment yesterday, silly! Don’t work yourself too hard either. So you get some rest too, alright?

Hope you swing by again and maybe soon we’ll have time for that hot chocolate :)

He not only sent you the payment for the errand but also a sweet pack of maple bars.

An overwhelming sweetness consumes you and you wish it never leaves.

The next day you plan to make Frankie a hot chocolate to bring him in the morning. But you realize you used the last remaining bits a few nights ago when you snuggled in for a cozy reading night. You mentally kick yourself but decide a green tea will hopefully be the best second option.

The minute Frankie’s shop opens you’re there the first one inside.

“You’re here early.” Frankie greets you with crinkled smiling eyes.

“Thought I’d stop by before I head to the mines.” You reply back brightly.

“It’s not hot cocoa, but I hope it’s a nice treat.” You offer lightly while you hand him the cozy to go drink.

“You got this for me? Thanks so much.” Your heart flutters hearing how warm his voice gets.

He takes a sip and his eye brows shoot up under the cover of his hat. Oh no. Does he not like it?

“Is this green tea?” His voice jumps so excited. “I love green tea!”

His brilliant smile creates a sun bursting light in your chest and you’re a bit grateful now you ran out of hot chocolate.

- ❆ -

Gus is a full five minutes into his handmade candy cane discussion and while you adore the endearing saloon owner, you can only take so much.

The feast of the evening star still warms and eases you though. The twinkling decorations, the absolute grand festive tree, the delicious food - it’s all a cozy blanket to soak into.

So you allow dear Gus to ramble about his candy canes while you sip on your warm drink.

“So who’s your secret gift recipient?”

Frankie’s soft but playful voice catches you off guard and you almost sputter out your drink.

You caught sight of him earlier but he was busy laughing with Pierre and Caroline. Then you got caught up in greeting everyone. Now you’re thankful to finally talk to him.

“You know that’s a secret.” You playfully glare at him.

The blacksmith simply shrugs but the amusement tugging his lips makes you smile.

A beautiful flush crawls over Frankie’s face. A kaleidoscopic joy sparkles in his deep eyes. He seems better and joy fills you.

“So does that mean you’re not gonna tell me what your winter star wish is?” He asks light.

You roll your eyes, but giddiness consumes you fast.

“You tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine.” You surprisingly coyly reply.

Frankie snorts and his face crinkles up adorable.

“If I told ya, you probably wouldn’t even believe me.” He says casually then takes a sip of his drink.

“Wait,” you reply back. “Now you gotta tell me.”

Frankie doesn’t reply for a moment.

In the stillness of this moment, you notice how close he is. He’s leaning right beside you that you can smell the faint smoke of his work, and a crisp cologne you’ve never noticed before.

Then, you see it. His stunning amber gemstone eyes flicker to your lips.

It’s fast, happens in a breath of a moment. Your throat dries. You blame the warm food and festive atmosphere, but you ache to lean closer.

Before you can react or even wait for Frankie’s next move, Mayor Lewis claps loudly, breaking the spell.

“Time to exchange gifts everybody!” He declares.

Your body feels electric and immediately you try settling yourself down. You needed to give your gift.

Jodi, the sweet mother she is, deserves a nice sweet treat and you surprise her with a fully cooked chocolate cake. Her warm excited reaction is a treat itself.

Evelyn, ever the kind grandmother, gives you a pack of her delicious and warm cookies. You hug her tight thanking her.

The festival concludes with a gentle end and fizzles out softly. The clean up is eased, relaxed, and by the time it’s finished an unfortunately long yawn takes over you.

“Can I walk ya home, little farmer? You seem tired.”

Frankie again, so stealthy, suddenly appears out of thin air.

You squeak out a quick yes and his face melts soft.

“So a full year down huh? Hope we haven’t scared you off too badly.” Frankie offers hopeful.

It has been a year, feels like so much yet so little has been composed into your new life here in Pelican Town. You think of the dilapidated community center you’ve been keeping an eye on and working on.

You’ve taken this new journey slowly, at your own pace. You can almost hear your grandpa’s voice cheering you on saying just take it one step at a time.

“No way.” You laugh answering Frankie’s question. If anything, you’ve grown more attached to the valley than you ever imagined. You even tell Frankie this and his face lights up so beautifully it rivals the festival tree standing in the town plaza.

“Everything work out with your ex?” You ask gently and then sputter out an apology if you’ve overstepped.

Frankie chuckles. “Nah, I’m glad we can talk about it.”

That comforts you.

“And yeah, thankfully everything worked out.” Frankie grins sleepily. “I’m still really sorry you had to hear that.”

“No worries! And like what you just said, I’m glad I can be here for you. That’s what friends are for, remember?” You reassure him.

“Yeah, friends.” The way his voice hangs on the word friends gets tangled in your chest.

A quietness clouds the walk.

“So Gus tell you about homemade candy canes?” Until Frankie’s light voice breaks the silence and you laugh.

It might have been a slow start becoming friends with Frankie. But you’re glad, grateful, to finally arrive here.

Arriving at your farm you thank Frankie again.

“If it wasn’t so late I really would invite you in for that hot chocolate I’ve been promising you.” You sigh. You even begged Gus for a new pack just to be stocked up.

“Don’t worry about it. There will be another night, promise.” His words are gilded in a promise you want to treasure.

He suddenly says your name and now under the light of your porch, Frankie seems bashful as his eyes flicker around.

“I, uh, kind of have something for you.”

That takes you by surprise.

“Couldn’t give it to you earlier cause I know Mayor Lewis would’ve had my ass.” Frankie dryly snorts and then pulls out something concealed in the classic brown paper wrapping he uses at his shop.

“Happy feast of the winter star, little farmer.” He delicately hands it to you and your eyes feel as if they’re going to pop out any moment.

You cry in protest that he didn’t need to get you anything and guilt rushes in. You didn’t get him anything.

“Eh,” he shrugs. “No pasa nada.”

You’ve only caught small bits of him speaking Spanish before and now hearing him speak so casual sounds beautiful.

Unwrapping the surprise gift, you discover he got you an iridium bar and you inhale sharply.

You haven’t even been able to forge one yet. The most precious, coveted, type of metal bar and he just casually gave one to you right now.

“Francisco Morales, this is too much!” You shriek.

He laughs buoyantly and loud at your reaction.

“Trust me, it’s not. Besides, seen how hard you work. How much you do for me and the town. You deserve it.”

You don’t want to get emotional, but the tears clogging your throat say otherwise. Those tears and the bubbling emotions, gratitude and all other shades of thankfulness, overtake you. Before you can stop yourself you rush to Frankie and collide into him.

You hug him best as you can but realize what you’ve just done. You don’t even know if he’s okay with close contact like this.

Immediately Frankie wraps you in his arms and squeezes you back. He’s all encompassing, beautifully so.

Your mind, your thoughts, everything melt as you embrace him back.

“Thank you.” You earnestly tell him.

“Anytime.” Frankie whispers back.

You would never tell Frankie this… but your winter star wish came true because you couldn’t have wished for a better way to bid such a sweet farewell to this season here in the valley.

#oh I needed this today #here’s to more Stardew sweetness and magic!! if you read thank you so much blacksmith Frankie and I are giving you a stardrop #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #blacksmith!frankie morales #frankie morales x f!reader #seasons of you fic series #Frankie ��#pedrostories

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prettymrswright · 2 years ago

Text

not in the way I want to. (s,f)

pairing: shuri udaku x black!fem!reader

background: you and shuri met in college while the young prodigy was freshly on the rise in the media for her latest creations. the two of you were inseparable from the very first class you had together. many people would assume the two of you to be romantic, but you guys knew it wasn’t like that. you’ve had the same boyfriend since freshman year, and up until recent events, considered yourself straight (curious at most). shuri wasn’t too fond of him, and initially, it perplexed you. but what happens when trouble arises in ‘paradise’, and hidden feelings are revealed?

content warning: fluff, smut (18)+, sub switch!shuri, dom switch!reader, explicit language, dirty talk, pet!names, overstimulat!on, oral (both receiving), strap (reader receiving), scissor!ng, finger!ng (both receiving), rough!gestures, praise!kink, multiple orgasms, mentions of coming out, cheating

word count: 9.6k translations: nkosazana, princess. usana, baby. mhlobo wam, my dear. intombi entle, pretty girl.

authors note: y’all! hello everyone 🤭 i was gonna insert an intro but imma put it in my bio chile ik what y’all here for. i’m excited for this, this is my first fanfic on this app & y’all done woke up the writer in me again, these stories are so good!!! i’m usually a reader/consumer of the content but I love this community so I wanted to jump in there myself. i hope you guys love it, im gonna figure out the masterlist/requests/taglist thing if you guys want more. below tagged are my favoriteeee writers on here, baby y’all write down!!! oh and baby this is SMUT, okay we ain’t come here for play play! 🤣 no need for likes or reblogs, just wanna hear y’all feedback in the comments! (divider by @firefly-graphics)

@inmyheadimobsessed @pinkwright @generallysapphic @vixentheplanet @ventingfanfics @zayswriting @vampzx

"sssshit, baby wait--" you hissed through slightly parted lips as the princess's hands slid all over you, one finding its way to your entrance making teasingly slow circles. she brings you closer to her chest and lowers her pretty lips to your ear. "please don't deny me, nkosazana" she says with a low tone, sending chills down your spine. "i've been waiting so long." and that she has been. and you'd be a fool to deny her any longer. you fully surrender to her touch, and as soon as you relax, she sends her slim, polished, ringed finger up your pussy, pumping with a curve, sure to touch your center. "aghhh--" you let out a sharp wince and bite the corner of your bottom lip, preventing your scream. she then slips another finger & with each pump, she coos your praises sending you into overdrive. "shuri i'm so close please--" she moans at the sight of your reaction, pleased to have been successful in pleasing you. "let it go for me, usana, that's it" "fuck!" you cry out. "I love you so much" you throw your head back into her neck and flutter your eyelids into a slow shut, anticipating your release. 3 seconds away from arriving and-- ERRRR!! ERRRR!! ERRRR!! you launch your body up rapidly at the sound of your alarm, panting, attempting to catch your breath. "ugh," you groaned, as you turned over to silence the machine, almost breaking it with the force you applied. that was weird. this was the third time this week alone that you have had a wet dream about shuri. even weirder that you were annoyed at its end. the two of you have never been intimate; you weren't even attracted to women. sure you two were close, but it never exceeded its platonic state. awoken by your sudden movement and noise, your boyfriend, Jalen, turns over to you, eyes still shut. "mm, you good baby?" he asks, still half asleep, not totally interested anyway. "yea i'm cool, just startled that's all." halfway through your sentence, he was fast asleep again. you rolled your eyes before grabbing your phone to send a much anticipated text. "Happy Birthday to one of the realest, flyest, smartest, coolest, and kindest people to ever tread this floating rock. I love you! Oh-- and you a bad bitch too." you giggle at your dry humor. tonight was your friend Sevyn’s birthday. Sev had been there for you and Jalen all throughout college. she helped coach y'all through y'all issues both together and individually. she had been there emotionally, mentally, and even sometimes financially. she was an outstanding friend, and it was important that you made tonight special for her. you decided you would get up early and run some errands before the event tonight. as you rise up out of bed, you lightly stretch out your limbs, and walk to the bathroom to get ready for the day. after your normal face and dental hygiene routine, you prepare to take a warm shower. sliding down your underwear, the crotch of your lace peels off your body like a banana, slowly being attached to your skin by the slick caused by the series of imaginative events. it made your skin hot, leaving you slightly embarrassed at the fact that even affected you like that.

as you run your shower, you're certain Jalen was still sleep, and he needed to be up getting ready too.

"Jalen!--" You shout out of the bathroom. "hmmm?," he groans in annoyance, proving you right. "you know we got somewhere to be right?," you semi-yell and wait for his response. "I'm up, I'm up" he says, not convincingly at all. lately, he had been constantly putting off important things, or 'forgetting' them and you didn't know what the root of the issue was. It just seemed like he lacked interest lately. you just blamed it on his work, since it had been requiring his attendance overtime recently. spending all that time could drain somebody for sure. you were sure he meant no true harm. you take a hot, brisk shower, filling up the bathroom with vanilla, white birch, velvety rose and a drop of strawberry nectar-- the scents emerging from your you're the one shower gel from bath and body works.

your mind begins to wander as you lather up your body. you couldn’t figure out why you were so on edge. You and Jalen haven’t been too sexually active the past weeks, or active at all in that matter, but even when you were, it never riled you up like you had been in that dream. maybe you were just missing the constant physical attention you received at the beginning of the relationship. but didn’t that mean you would’ve had a dream about him?

today was so exciting. you had been so emerged in your own adulting, you barely had time to see your friends. you couldn't wait to link back up with sevyn, riri, and shuri. at the end of your shower, you dry off, lotion up, and get dressed in your fav, emerald green, 'running errands' sweatsuit. you put your thick, kinky hair in two space buns, slip on your AF1's and grab your things. walking past the bedroom you hear the deafening snores coming from your boyfriend. you decided to leave anyway and go run errands on your own. .. in a three and a half hour timespan, you were able to get your nails and toes done, pick up some new accessories for your outfit, and get your hair freshly silk pressed. the first time you have put heat in your hair in 3 years, and the health benefits were showing. you had it up in pin curls, and tucked away.

after your errands, you head to the venue and drop off the balloons, the cake, and the shoes you set out for Riri to match her outfit. Sev had no idea she was having a party. she knew you guys were taking her out tonight. you helped set up for a little before you headed out. as you go back home to get ready, you walk in and see Jalen on his game. "Baby, we gotta leave in a couple of hours. How have I managed to knock out my whole day and you ain't move but 3 feet?," you spat, visibly annoyed. "Oh uh, actually," he began, "I can't make Sev's tonight." you walk closer, scanning your boyfriend's facial expressions and body language, waiting for the punchline. "What do you mean you can't make Sev's? We been planning this for weeks, J."

he sighs in a somewhat sympathetic tone before standing to meet your gaze. "I know, babe, I'm sorry. Work called ag--" you cut him off, ready to spazz, but trying your hardest to remain a least a little level headed. "Work? you had all this time to put in for today, J. I mean, damn, they need you there, late, every day?" he pulls your body closer to him and lifts your chin to meet him eye level. "I'm sorry. I'll make up to you and Sev, you know I'm good for it. " he exclaims before slowly pecking your lips. you slightly shudder at the interaction, the most you have gotten in weeks. you roll your eyes before turning to walk away and he pops you on your ass. "Aye, don't give me that 'tude, aight." Jalen laughs. "Go finish getting sexy. And make sure I get my pictures!" he trails off to the bathroom.

you were disappointed, but decided you wouldn't let that get the best of you. you go back into your room and begin to set up your vanity dresser/mirror, in glam mode. you plug in your speaker and shuffle your caribbean vibes playlist, pre-gaming before the festivities. you took off your clothes, leaving you in your panty and bra set, and turned up the lights beaming from your vanity mirror. nothing could ruin this night, not even Jalen's lack of attendance. you decided to text the groupchat to check everyone's status. m'baku's big toe

you: ahem, hearye, hearye. i hope you hoes is getting ready! riri: girl i been getting ready, yk beauty takes time. or do you? idk you be lookin' a lil questionable 🥴 you: girl, fuck you! 🤣 shuri: I’m quicker than you both. 🙄 I’m dressed and out the door before you could attach your second false lash. sev: what you guys wearing?🙃 you: aht aht! it don't matter what we wearing, it's YOUR birthday. sev: i know, but i still don't know where you guys are taking me, i don't want to be over or under dressed😩 riri: girl you could come to the corner store in a disco ball. it's YOUR DAY. you: no, exactly shuri: whatever you guys wear, I'm sure it'll be glorious. now please hurry, i'm falling asleep!

you smile brightly at the texts laying out before you. one thing your friends could always do, was boost your mood. you breeze through your makeup, pausing mid-blend and mid-bake to buss a quick whine or to shout lyrics at the mirror with your gun finger emotes up.

you cocoa butter and oil up your body, giving it that shine and glow. you loved to look like you were glowing when you were dressed up. you slip on your black, mini, spaghetti strap body-con dress with a small slit in the thigh. you put on your sandal strap heels with the black base and clear straps. you place the single gold chain with a heart-shaped herb pendant on your neck, and the gold name plate bracelet to match both gifted from Shuri. It went perfectly with your outfit and the gold accents in the black hand purse you chose to wear for the night. you let your pin curls down and let them fall, slightly below your collarbone. you grab your favorite scent, instant crush by mancera, and give a spritz to all your intimate areas. glancing over yourself in the mirror, you have to say; you totally outdone yourself. it's been a while since you gave yourself this much attention to your appearance and it was well overdue. Jalen pops his head the room, dressed and seemingly in a rush. "alright babe, I'm out. have fun tonight and be safe." he turns out before you can even respond. "you didn't tell me how I looked!" you yell, trying to catch his ear before it was outside. "you look great as always! Love you, bye!" and with that the door shut. it's not that you needed to hear him say it to confirm how you looked, it was no question. but it's always nice to hear it from your partner. you shake it off and hype yourself up in the mirror before your phone begins to ring. it was Riri. you swipe to answer and were met with an enthusiastic exclamation. "We outsideeee!" Riri shouts, followed by cheers from the rest of the group. "Aowww!" you chuckle. "I'm on my way out now." you begin to walk out the door and towards the black Mercedes SVU truck, driven by Shuri. the windows roll down and it is an immediate uproar.

"Bombaaaa, what a gyal suh pretty, man eeee??!" Sev says flick-snapping her fingers, accentuating her Jamaican accent. "No, you look tf goodt! This how you step out for your friend, okay!" Riri says smiling ear to ear. Shuri's reaction is delayed but only because she's trying to take it all in. you were beautiful to Shuri, in every way, and she never hesitated to tell you that. Immediately she felt all the feelings she felt when she first met you rush to her heart , her throat and her stomach. If pupils could take shape, hers would be shaped in hearts. looking at her and waiting for her reaction, you catch her scanning your body and getting flustered. It was silent for a minute until she snaps back to the present moment. "Damn." she breathes out, causing everyone to fill up the rest of the silence with laughter. you hop in the backseat with Riri, admiring her orange turtleneck dress and her small straight back feed-ins. you guys take off, riding out about 20 minutes to your destination. every few minutes or so, you and Shuri would exchange a glance in the rear view mirror, slightly making you nervous. it wouldn't have been the first time, but this time was particularly making you feel a way. she had on a white hoodie and matching white joggers, a pair of 1's and a single plaited gold chain. she smelled of satin and eucalyptus, a strong but soothing scent. the fingers attached to her tattooed hands were freshly polished with a clear coat, reflecting a glare off of the traffic lights as her hands rested on the wheel. her undercut was freshly buzzed, emphasizing the powerful structure of her face. she was breathtaking. your mind began to wander, if you weren't mistaken, in the direction of the dream you had the previous night. before it could get too deep, your thought was interrupted.

"Time out," Sev turns to face you from the front passenger. "Where is J?" you sigh, initially forgetting all about him. "He had to work late, he told me to tell you he'd make it up to you." "Yo, that man is gonna work himself right into an early grave" Riri exclaimed. shuri scoffs at the sentence. you look up, interested in what she thought. "That's some bullshit. Ain't that much overtime in the world." she spat. you knew the two weren't the best of friends. but this comment was clearly shade. you got somewhat defensive. "What are you implying? I mean, he is the main provider of the house. It sound like his priorities are straight to me." you say, colder than you would've liked to. Shuri stared off into the distance of the road, giving a condescending hum before responding. "Mmm. Is that what it is? Okay. I mean one of your closest friends of 4 years' birthday sounds worth prioritizing to me, but what do I know, right?" this was the most you've seen Shuri get aggravated over him. Or anything for that matter. and in a weird way, her protectiveness made you feel something you wouldn't want to admit aloud. The silence after was bitter, but quickly broken after Sev jumps in. "Hey, look, it's fine" she lowly smiles and places her hand on mine. "I'm sure he didn't mean any harm by it. I'm with my girls tonight, let's just have fun." Shuri immediately shoots you an apologetic look. although she didn't regret what she said, she was always gentle with you & didn't want you to feel otherwise. you give her a slight nod and half smile, letting her know it was okay. I mean after all she was right. how could you wither away all your time somewhere where you didn't even need to, especially when you had the choice to be there for your friend? we park and step out the car, walking towards the venue. you could now see everybody in their entirety. the assignment was very clearly understood.

Sev looked beautiful. her locs she had been growing since the 3rd grade were up tightly in a neat, high bun. she had on a silver sequined body suit with a white mini skirt and white open toe heels to match. the windows were made with an ashed out material on the outside, only being able to see the lights reflecting. you, shuri, and riri shoot each other excited looks as Sev walks up first. "Damn, this restaurant is big!" Sev says, having no idea what she was getting ready to walk into. "She don't got a clue in the fucking world--" Riri says under her breath, imitating the Druski meme. simultaneously, you and Shuri tap her arm to shut her up, laughing all the while. she opens the door and everyone turns around. "Surprise!" Everyone yells and cheers, phone light cameras on, brightening up the space even more. all of Sevyn's closest friends and family were in attendance. you and the crew spent weeks formulating this. you knew Sev was homesick, and you wanted to make it as special as possible. the DJ plays Barbie Doll by Vershon as she walks out, giving her her dream entrance.

the different color fluorescent lights lit up the entire space, making the dance floor look electric. there were purple, gold, and silver confetti balloons bunched together and tied in every corner. there was even two 2 balloons tied above the special chair you guys decorated for her to sit as you sung happy birthday. "Oh my g--" Sev turns around to us, hands on her now heavily beating heart. her eyes immediately well with tears. "No you guys didn'tttt" you guys pull her in a group hug. "Yes we did!" Riri says, grabbing a napkin off the side table to pass to me. "Hey hey, don't cry sister, you gon' mess up your pretty makeup!" you pout, using the napkin Riri passed you to blot the corners of her eye. Sev was so overwhelmed with joy and gratitude. she loved you guys dearly, but she missed her family back home as well. she mouthed 'I love you' and blew a kiss before she turned to make her rounds around the room. the three of you made a couple rounds yourself and headed for the bar, ready to get your night started. .. about an hour goes by, and Riri rounds everybody up around Sev's chair to sing happy birthday. Shuri brings out her favorite-flavored, cookies and cream ice-cream cake and lays it on the table before her. Happy Earthstrong, Bad Gyal Sevyn! it reads, in purple letters, two gold 2's standing besides each other in the middle. she makes her wishes and blows out her candles, and from there, the real celebration begins.

as the night went on, the tunes were rolling in and at this point every one was tipsy and dancing. one of your favorite Afrobeats songs off of Wizkid's new album started playing. before you knew it, you felt yourself floating to the dance floor. you began to roll your hips, slow to the downbeat, eyes shut, feeling every word.

Mami You making me lose my eyes for other girls No do me something wey go make me stress Give me less of that, give me more of you Give me something I'll never want to lose, yeah

as you continuing dancing, you feel familiar hands slide around your waist and pull you into them. It was Shuri. she had been watching you dance and decided she no longer wanted you to do so alone. as she presses up against you, she begins to whine her hips, matching your rhythm. smiling to yourself, you slightly bend over, adding more dynamic to your movement. as a result, Shuri leans back and catches it. "You go girl," she says in the American accent she had been practicing so heavily lately, making the two of you laugh. you lift back up, keeping the whine more intimate, and she lowers herself to your ear. "You look stunning tonight, nkosazana." She says, sending a chill through you. she had called you that same thing in the dream. her nicknames for you sounded so much better in Xhosa than it did in English. "As do you, my love." you reply, still dancing. "I'm sorry for earlier," she begins, "I didn't mean to offend you. I just get protective when I feel my friends are being taken advantage of."

you slide your hands down to interlock over hers, which were placed around your waist, in an attempt to soothe her, wanting to forget the conversation happened. It works, as you feel her melt further into you. "Shuri it's okay, I promise. I appreciate you looking out, you know that. you were right anyway. he should've been here." you lift a hand to place a kiss on it. she uses that same hand and turns you around to face her, wrapping her arms around your waist. you smooth your arms around her neck and for a moment, it feels like it's only you two in the room. the two of you rock side to side, legs intertwined, in a kompa-like style and she brings herself to your ear and begins to lowly sing-hum the lyrics to the song. Who's gonna know? At the end of the day, I'm yours For the night only, baby, ooh Turn me on, I'm yours For the night only, baby, ooh Ooh-ooh Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh you felt like you were dreaming again. was she singing these lyrics to you? or was that just something you wanted to hear? you pull back and make eye-contact with the royal girl, and she's looking at you with a look you've seen before, but just not in real life. "I've been dying to hold you just like this." She blurts out, not breaking the eye contact and you can feel a lump begin to form in your throat. you smile at her, slightly nudging her off. "what are you talking about? we're always affectionate with each other. you hold me all the time" you laugh. it was true. hugs and kisses weren't foreign to you two, and neither was dancing. but somehow this felt intense. "not in the way I want to." she says, making a triangle with her eyes from your left-eye, to your lips, to your right-eye. "and what way is that?" you say directly, almost seductively. you felt it slightly inappropriate to build upon this tension, but once you got in that flirtatious mode, it was hard to come out of it. however, it only happened when you were attracted to said person. and you admit shuri was beautiful, but it never occurred to you that your attraction had been more than just a friend admiring a friend. she picks up on your tone, taking it as a green light to continue.

“Like this.”

she says into your neck as she turns you back around, leaving 3 soft kisses down your collar bone.

you lightly hum in satisfaction and reach your hand around Shuri’s head, bringing her closer and pressing yourself on her pelvis. you drag your hand down her undercut and across her jaw, holding her face to your neck, keeping it warm. she shudders under your touch and lowly moans at your reaction to hers.

I've been waiting for you to come my way (my way)

Put the sun in my rainy day (rainy day)

For your type, I go wait for days, my girl

Girl, your type of feel no dey give me pain

Girl, your picture fits my frame

There for you in a thousand ways, my girl

For the night, for the night

Whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh, ooh, yeah

“Come home with me, tonight Y/N.” she pleads. immediately you feel your knees buckle at the statement. you wanted to say yes so bad, but you couldn’t promise good behavior. And for that, it would be inappropriate for you to. besides you had to let Jalen in since he lost his key.

“I don’t know, Shuri. I gotta be home to open the door for J.” You say with slight disappointment in your tone of voice.

Before the Princess could respond, the two of you are interrupted by a loud mic feedback screech, followed by a very drunk and very happy announcement.

“Thank you everybody for coming out tonight!” Sevyn begins. “I’m so grateful for my beautiful family and my BOMB ASS FRIENDS, I’m having the time of my life, truly. One more year pan di fucka dem, how yuh mean?!!! “ The party erupts in cheers and mimicked mouth sounds of gunshots.

“And with that being said… IT’S SHOT O’CLOCK!!”

Beaming at her excitement, you match her energy. “SHOT O’CLOCK!!!”

Everybody takes their shot given out to them earlier throughout the night, raises it, and backs it. The music starts up again and people are back dancing. The four of you group up by the bar.

“So sis,” Riri starts, facing Sev. “Do you love it or do you love it?!”

“You guys are fucking unreal,” she says slurring. “I’m having so much fun. Thank you. All of you.” She hugs us each and begins to tear up again.

“You know we got your back like your spine do, Sev.” Shuri says, doing the handshake the four of you had created with her.

Riri’s phone buzzes and as she checks her notification, her face drops.

you all pick up on the shift in energy, but Shuri beats you guys to the chase.

“What’s wrong, Ri?” she asks attentively.

anticipating her answer, you look at her waiting for a response, and she immediately looks up at you.

“Y/N,…” She looked so sympathetic. As if something happened to you.

“What? what is it?” you began to get nervous.

Riri squeezes in between in all of us, sharing the view of the phone.

It’s a video sent to Riri’s instagram.

‘Ri, ain’t this your friends man?’

It was your boyfriend Jalen, wearing the same thing he had on when he left the house earlier that afternoon. In the bed, with another familiar face. It was his ex, Mya. the two were kissing. the video was captioned ‘never too far’ with the song “Can’t Leave Him Alone” by Ciara and 50cent attached to it.

a hot pit immediately formed in your stomach and you felt nauseous. Before you could think to cry, the tears were already flowing.

“Are you fucking serious!” Sevyn says, unaware of how loud she truly was, compliments of her inebriated nature.

“I’m sorry, sis. this is so fucked up.” Riri says rubbing your back.

work huh? he had been cheating the entire time. the lack of affection, the flopping on plans, forgetting important dates, no sex. the whole time you’ve been making excuses for him, considering his emotions and hardships, he had been occupying his time and energy somewhere else.

“That fucking jerk-off.” Shuri spat so harshly it almost made you jump. as you glanced over her face, you could see a dark, glossy glare in her eye and her jaw flexing from her biting down so hard. her Kimoyo beads turn a bright, glowy red, activating the mood generator she had added to it, just for shits and giggles in her free time. It meant anger. you knew that. she turns to you, noticing your state and cups your face and immediately wipes your tears with her thumbs.

“Listen to me,” she says, holding the attention she already previously grabbed. “You’re the most beautiful girl in the world, inside and out. This has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with him. He didn’t deserve you then, and he doesn’t deserve you now.”

you nod at everything she says. you know she’s right, but the tears just wouldn’t stop flowing. it was hurtful. it was downright disrespectful.

“Girl, we can pack up all your stuff and you come stay with me,” Riri says very sweetly but very serious.

“Fuck that,” you laugh in between sniffles, with your thoughts residing in audacity. “That’s my shit. He could get out!”

“I know that’s right!” Sevyn says smacking her hand down on the bar countertop.

you all laugh. humor was how you four coped with everything. more than anything you were appalled at these series of events, but you wouldn’t let it sack your night. tonight is about Sevyn. You got yourself together, had a few more shots, and the four of you continued the night, as intended.

It was 1 AM and the night was over. everyone kissed and hugged goodbye and made their way out. Shuri had Sevyn over her shoulder, placing her gently in the backseat of the SUV. she was too drunk to function, but in Sevyn’s words, “The night wasn’t crunk, If I wasn’t drunk”

I laughed aloud at the thought of her saying that. we all hop in the car and Shuri being the most sober, barely even tipsy, drives everyone home. we get to Sev’s house first.

“I’m gonna stay with Sev and nurse her back to health.” Riri half chuckles, gathering all of her and Sev’s belongings.

“I am health!” Sevyn slurs, mixing up health and healthy. We all laugh.

“Yeah ok superstar.” Shuri smiles.

“Goodnight y’all,” you say warmly. “Happy Birthday again, Sev.”

“Goodnight, take it easy, okay Y/N/N?” Riri says to you. You give her a reassuring nod.

“Yeah and fuck that nigg—!” was the last thing you heard before the back door shut. You laugh uncontrollably, knowing it was Sevyn, making it clear she had your back. you wait until they get inside and Shuri drives off. for a while, it's silent, until you break it. "Thank you, Shuri." you began, sheepishly, fidgeting your fingers. "For speaking life into me, and making sure I enjoyed my night." you could see her crack a small smile. "Of course, Y/N. What kind of friend would I be not to?" she reaches out and rests her hand on your thigh, giving it a light squeeze. the gesture makes you squirm. Pretending not to notice, Shuri asks, "Did you want to stop by anywhere before we reach your house? Something to eat? Or maybe an airbed?" "Shut up!," You burst into laughter, nudging her shoulder. She was very good with lightening moods, and she was also very funny. "Actually," you began, feeling that bold feeling you had felt earlier. "I was hoping you could take me home. to your home." you say, this time, with the full intent of sounding seductive. you reach over and rub the back of her neck, ever so gently. "Oh, uh-" you notice the 'adam's apple' portion of her neck move as she swallows, caught off guard by your sudden gesture. "Yea, definitely, that's fine with me." her kimoyo beads then started to glow a dark fuchsia. Your head tilted at the sight. That was new. You were there the millions of times that Shuri had ran tests on this feature, but you couldn't recall seeing this color before. "What does fuchsia mean, Princess?" You turn to her, genuinely interested. normally, she hated when you were formal with her. but as of these recent events, she was sort of turned on by it. she looks at you, and with a shy, stuttered tone she replies, "Arousal."

"Oh.." at a loss for words, you feel the pace of your heartbeat pick up, in both places of which a heartbeat may reside in a woman. she was aroused by you. a gentle touch alone from you made her arousal grow and the thought of that made your curiosity quickly turn into certainty. you wanted her bad, and was over pretending that you didn't.

You finally park, and the two of you head inside Shuri's apartment complex, which she had owned and had other people rent out. you went up to the top floor and trailed off into the Princess's palace. Shuri's home was so warm. Welcoming. the decor filled with blues, whites, and silvers, mimicking her lab back at her home Wakanda. The two of you enter her spacious room and immediately she begins to undress. she slips off her hoodie, exposing her toned and muscled arms elongating out of her wifebeater. her beauty was so effortless. And in that moment you could only think of those arms holding you. Or restraining you. either would suffice. "I'm gonna hop in the shower, Y/N," she begins. "You're welcome to shower here or in any of the guest bathrooms. It's up to you." "I'm gonna go in the guest room. Where are your towels?" you ask. she goes in her closet and comes out with a baby blue towel and two wash rags, one white and one blue, and hands them to you. you notice they're the same set from when you slept over last summer. "I never used them and purposely and kept it separated from all my others. I know blue's your favorite." She says, almost bashful. "How sweet, Shuri, thank you," you swoon at the gesture. that's another thing you adored about Shuri. She was so attentive. she knew everything about you & incorporated that information into thoughtful gestures like those. It seemed small but it made your day. "Anything for you, nkosazana." she says, sealing her statement with a wink. There that word went again. Princess. It was like she was taunting you. you smiled bleakly, and made your way to bathroom. the words lingered in your mind. did she mean anything?

as the hot water steams up the bathroom and falls against your skin, rinsing it of the dove body wash it was lathered with, your mind began to wander again. you began to have flash backs. when the two of you first met, your first 1 on 1 hang out, the shows she'd come see you perform in, her taking you to meet her family back in Wakanda. You felt safe in her presence. Comfortable, relaxed, inspired. Beautiful. Something you haven't felt in someone for a really long time. And it hit you. You were in love with Shuri Udaku. You weren't sure what to do with that information. It would mean two things, forcing you to face the truth; One, you were attracted to women. And two, your relationship with Jalen wasn't at all what you painted it out to be all these years. Oddly enough, you still felt bad for carrying on the way you knew you were about to. Not that bad though. after your shower, you walk back into Shuri'’s room, seeing her in her tank & a pair of boxers, at her desk, finishing up some last minute work drafts like the workaholic she was. you knock lightly and break her focus. "Hey," you say meekly, and before you know it, you're back into tears. "Hey, hey, hey, come here. " Shuri quickly pulls you into her lap. "Fuck him. I want you to fully process your emotions, but I don't wanna see two many tears shed over that waste. unless they are tears of joy, of course." she rubs the sides of your shoulders and kisses the back of them. but it wasn't even that. the truth was, you were overwhelmed. of course it hurt seeing what you saw earlier. but through all that turmoil, the only thing you could seem to think of was your feelings for Shuri. "Shuri-," you say, through a sob. "What is it my love, talk to me." Shuri's face grew with concern as she positioned you to now be face to face with her. "I think I'm in love with you," you manage to get out, eyes overflowing with tears. Shuri's reaction was mixed with shock, relief, and excitement. she had been in love with you since she meant you. It had been hell to pretend like she wasn't. she was equally allured by the content of your character as she was your pretty face and equally perfect figure. sure, she was a little jealous watching you be with someone else, but it wasn't jealousy alone. she knew Jalen wasn't shit. It just had to come up in the physical form. “Oh, Thank Bast.” Shuri says, exhaling heavily.

you playfully tap her shoulder.

“Shuri, I’m serious!” you say, almost pouting.

“I know, I know. All jokes aside, you don’t know how happy I am to hear those words from you.” she says lowly, staring into your eyes.

“Really?” you say, not knowing what to think of the situation just of yet.

“Really.” she confirms. “I’ve been in love with you since I met you, Y/F/N.”

hearing those words sent a rush all over your body. if you could be desired by anyone, especially in that way, it would be Shuri. a woman of her beauty and intelligence being enamored by you was way more than flattering. The more time passed, the more your arousal grew hungrily. "So come show me." your response sounding more lewd than intended.

you positioned your body to sit on one of her legs. you grab her face and bring it towards you, kissing her slow and passionately. you both moan into the kiss, breaking the tension that had been so heavily building over the night. a wave of bliss washes over you immediately. as you deepen the kiss, Shuri’s hands travel up your sides and lands on your ass. you slide your hands up the back of her neck and tug lightly at her head of curls. you adjust yourself, purposely separating the boundary of your wrapped towel and your lower region, and you begin to grind your clit against her thigh. you could feel the secretion sliding between your skin.

“Y/N..” Shuri leaves a light moan onto your lips, lifting up for air. "Yes?" you begin kissing down her neck, lightly sucking. "I-is this okay?" Shuri could barely get out. "We don't have to"

you stood up, still hovering over her and peeled off your towel, dropping it to the floor. you take her finger swipe it across your entrance, allowing her to feel the mess she was beginning to create. you sucked yourself off of her, keeping your gaze onto her. "Does that answer your question, Princess?" you say, in an almost sinister tone. "Fuck.." Shuri trailed off, pleasantly surprised at your behavior. without any further question, she lifts you up with one arm and walks you over to the bed, laying you down. you wanted her so bad. this would be your first time with a woman, and although you were nervous, you were ready. you could easily figure out what she liked. you seen it in your dreams a million times. Shuri began kissing you all over your face, traveling down to your neck, eventually stopping at your chest. she hovers over your right nipple, the breeze from her breath causing you to jolt. she slides her hand up your torso and cups your other breast, lightly tugging on the nipple. she slightly drops her jaw, allowing her dribble to fall and coat your puffed nipple. she cleans it up before it droops below the surface. simultaneously, she drives her knee in between your legs, just close enough for the tip of her knee and your clit to kiss. you gasp at the quick exchange, your body squirming under her touch, semi-begging for more. "Stop teasing me, Shuri, please," you breath out. "Mm, mm." she shakes her head, detaching her lips from around your areola. "I've been waiting a long time for you. I'm taking my time. " she gives some attention your other nipple before traveling down your torso. she makes sure not to leave any skin on your body unloved. she wanted the way she truly felt to translate through her actions. she tugged you by the inside of your knees, pulling you closer to the end up of the bed, and kneeled down in front of your heat. "Shuriiii," you whined out, aching for her to do something. "What is it, usana?" she says, wanting you to be vocal. she was so deeply grateful to have heard you say the things she had only dreamt. "What do you need from me?" you had absolutely no problem being vocal. all your guilt, sadness, and confusion was out the window. all you wanted now was to make her feel how she made you in your dreams. sitting up on your forearms, you lock eyes with her, "put your mouth on her, please." "Yes, my love." she breaks eye contact with you and makes eye contact with your folds. "Hey, pretty girl," she cooes over your entrance. the seductive introduction made you melt like putty. She slides her two fingers up your slit, separating your folds, and exposing your now pulsating clit. In one quick motion, she wraps her pretty, royal lips around it and gives it a french kiss. "Yesss, fuck!--" you cry out. you been yearning for this moment, and seeing it come into fruition was driving you insane. still eating, shuri hums inside you, sending the vibrations through you. she slowly slides her fingers inside and begins pumping. you could feel the love at the end of her tongue, and you feel your eyes begin to well up. you throw your head back in intense pleasure. she taps the side of your hip twice, coming up to speak. "aht, aht. keep those pretty eyes on me, gorgeous" demanding your attention, still pumping. soon as your tear-filled eyes, meet hers, she adds another finger and begins to twist. "Ahh!" you pierce out a glass crushing scream, grabbing the sheet so hard you almost pop it off its corner. "I can't--" she silences your protest, shushing loudly, "yes you can baby, hold it for me, yeah?" wanting to be good for her, you just gave a weak nod. she lowers her lips back to your super sensitive bud, now edging it with the flat of her tongue. the combination of the two movements immediately tossed your stomach into knots, signaling a releasing creeping. "Shuri, I'm going to fucking cum--" you say through exhausted breath and gritted teeth. her expectations of you holding anything would soon be met with disappointment.

"I know baby, just a little while longer," she attempts to soothe you, failing terribly. she sucks one more time, slightly tugging at it, making the popping noise at the release. she takes her thumb and uses it as replacement for where her mouth was and uses her free hand to push your knees to your chest.

your legs involuntarily began to tremble and you knew you could hold it no longer.

"Baby," you gasp out, in a warning tone.

"come on, let it out." she gives you the green light and on command, you immediately pour out onto Shuri's fingers.

"Such a good fucking girl." she praises, and you ride out your O off of her fingers. she takes them out and lowers herself to your lips, giving you her fingers for the two of you to share. "You taste so good." she exclaims, moaning to herself.

you're a whimpering, moaning mess. you've never felt such an intense feeling in all the years your were in a relationship with that man. it awakens something in you, and you're ready to do whatever to make Shuri happy.

sitting up with her towering you, you and the Princess collaborate in lifting her shirt over her head. you take time admiring her slim but toned body and her small, perky and stiff breasts.

"You are so beautiful, Shuri." You say looking up to her, so very sincerely. she was really ethereal in every way. she had an androgynous vibe to her, being equally as pretty as she was handsome.

" I am a reflection of you, mhlobo wam." she replies before lifting your chin, placing a peck onto your lips. she always knew what to say.

you slide your fingers around the brim of her shorts before pulling them down, being greeted with her black boxers, being soaked at the front.

"Oh shit," you chuckle. "It's like that?" you look up at the now flustered girl. It was funny, but cute. as quick as she could be in control was as quick as she could become coy.

"It's not my fault," she says in a pouty tone. "You're just so--"

In the midst of her talking, you slip her out her boxers, lift her leg, and rest her foot on the tall bed post that stood beside you, exposing her pretty and dripping two-toned cunt. your eyebrows raised, surprised at her flexibility.

you let out a secluded breath, loving what you saw in front of you. "So..?" you ask, tauntingly, sliding your thumb up and down her middle.

“—Sexy.” her breath stifles, and her chest began to heave up and down.

“you think i’m sexy?” you taunt even further, now dipping your thumb in every one and again, enjoying watching her squirm.

“Y-yes,” her hips disobey her attempt to keep cool and begin bucking up.

“How sweet. Let me say, thank you.” you palm her plump bottom with both hands and pull your lips closer to her sweet spot. you lick a straight path from the bottom of her opening up and to the top and make a quick circle around her clit, sealing it with a kiss.

“Ohhh my f— Y/N..” Shuri felt as if she began to float. she had the prettiest girl at her mercy, and now she had her at her own. to see her underneath her, wanting her in the same way— the thought alone was enough for her cum.

“Tell me how you like it, Princess. Teach me.” you plead, wanting nothing more than to make her feel how she just made you. your eagerness to learn her body made her all the more excited to continue.

like a magnet, you attached your lips onto her second pair, and she guides you right where she wants you.

“Right there. S-slow, please.” she almost begs.

as asked, you rolled your tongue around her bud slowly. painfully slow. you were pleased with her taste & moaned in confirmation.

“Ughh,” her breathing becoming more unsteady, “Fuck, that feels so good, nkosazana.” proud and driven by the praise you were just given, you speed up your pace, just a little. this time, making it sloppy and shaking your head in it. you raise a finger and trace it along her entrance, waiting for the confirmation that it was okay. she nods.

you strike a finger up briskly, tongue still attacking her clit.

“Yes!” she cries out, holding a tighter grip on the sides of your head. you give a few more pumps before slipping another finger, eager to send her over. pushing deeper and deeper, you notice her juices begin to trickle down your fingers.

“are you close, my love?”you chase her expressions for an answer.

“I’m so close, please don’t stop,” she whimpers out as you keep pumping. her eyes shut tight and her leg began to shake. she was a whimpering little thing. it was different from her normal, calm, masculine presenting energy. and you loved it.

you increase the pressure of your sucking and soon after you feel a rush of creamy substance floating down your tongue like a river. she sobs out as she comes down from her first O.

“Mmm.” you vocalize your satisfaction with her flavor. “thank you, princess.” you feel yourself oozing at the sight of her squirm.

“who— taught.. you.. that,” She says in between each gasp for air. you laugh at her possessive energy but flattered that your succeeded at your first attempt to please her.

gaining some of your leg strength back, you fall back on the bad, pulling Shuri on top of you and rolling over so that you were on top. you thought about this so many times and was ready to try it.

you spread her legs and lower your wet and pulsating clit to meet hers. feeling the warm & gushy sensation between you to caused you both to gasp at the same time.

“You so fucking nasty, my God.” Shuri groans aggressively, staring into your soul.

“For you. You damn right.” you bite back. you swooned at thought of being her fantasy. you were laying it all out for her, making her long term attraction worth it.

you held yourself up slightly, rocking back and forth, tribbing the nucleus of her treasure.

“That pussy feels so good on mine, fuck,” you moan, wanting to throw your head back but also not wanting to miss any reactions, for they were the navigator of your success rate.

“Shit!” her pretty brown eyes beginning to gloss over with water. she couldn’t believe how submissive she was acting, but she even more so couldn’t believe how filthy you were, especially involving her. you also couldn’t believe it either. to have never been with a woman, being with Shuri in this way felt so natural.

“Y/N please!” she cried out, grabbing your neck, pulling you forehead to forehead, the heart shaped herb necklace she gifted you now dangling in her face.

thrusting harder, you reach your hand up and massage her left breast, grazing her nipples with the edges of your nails.

the two of your bodies moved in the same patterns like a missing puzzle piece. you grabbed her by her face and kissed her passionately. uncontrollably moaning your mouth, she begins to cry, this time, letting her emotions take over her.

“I’m cumming, please, I can’t take anymore,” she reaches out to push your torso further away, but her hands are quickly pinned down over her head.

“I’m almost there baby, hold on.” You coo sweetly, noticing her begin to get overstimulated. You continue to thrust, picking up the pace to speed up your orgasm, talking Shuri through.

Shuri’s eyes began to roll back and her mouth was agape for so long from her silent cries, she started to drool.

“Shit,” you feel yourself getting ready to release. The sight of her under your control sped up the process by a whole lot. “I’m cumming, I’m cumming—fuck!” you began to whimper. By the time your juices flow out, Shuri let out a piercing screech, squirting all over you.

Shuri was now sobbing and shaking, violently. You wipe her tears and kiss all over her face, now laying beside her.

“I know baby, I know. Let it out,” you continue to kiss her and rub her to calm her down.

“I—I” she tries to vocalize something, but still hasn’t come down yet.

“Take your time, no need to rush.” you reassure her, still slightly out of breath yourself. you help her regulate her breathing and she finally makes out her sentence.

“I need to fuck you. Now.” she growled.

if she hadn’t before, the desire now was through the roof. this was the most aggressive you’d ever seen her-- also the most vulgar-- and after the damage you had just done to her, you were excited, but nervous to see how she would handle you.

her wobbly legs refraining her from being able to move as fast as she could, she hops up and limps over to her dresser draw, opening the top draw and taking out a pretty black, blue and silver strap. the design on it mimicking what would be the inside of a gadget. by it’s shiny and potent structure, you knew it was made of vibranium.

she slips the harness around her hips, tightening both ends to secure it, arms flexing in the process. effortlessly turning you on with every move.

“Come here, duchess.” she motions you over with two fingers. you immediately oblige, following her lead like a lost puppy.

she leads you over to the large mirror that resided on the wall on the other side of the bed. she swipes the slick from the middle of your entrance and uses it to lube up the tool.

“The safe word, is mango.” She began, looking at you through the mirror. “If it’s too much or it hurts, say that word, and i’ll stop immediately. Got it?”

you bite your lip nervously, and nod, doubting that you would ever be using it.

“Words, princess.” She says sternly, lifting up your chin.

“Y-yes.” you breathily respond. and just like that, you were back under her spell, ready to be used anyway she desired.

“There’s my girl.” She smirks before positioning herself behind you. something about her referring to you as her girl made your stomach erupt with butterflies.

you bent over and braced yourself on the mirror and suddenly you felt a poke at your entrance.

“You ready?” she asks. you nod way too eagerly. “I’m gonna count to 3… 1–“

before she ever got to two she slides her length up your canal and you gasp super sharply.

“Shuri!” you half moan, half growl, feeling good but snapping at her for cutting your time to prepare.

“Shh, you got it, come on,” she coaches. Shuri stroked her length in and out of you, slow and long, building up your anticipation.

“Shit!,” you spat, bitting down on your lip, adjusting to her length.

shuri had been developing this piece for a long time. she also was secretly restricting it for you, not knowing if you’d ever actually be together. but the very few times she did have other partners, she’d only use the regular silicone strap for them. only a woman of a certain poise and power was worthy of the contraption, and in this case, that woman was you. her intombi entle.

she had designed it to feel as close to skin as possible. she wanted you to feel the intimacy just as she did, being that she also designed it to allow her to feel you.

as she pumped in and out of you, your walls tightly clenched around her, almost fighting to keep her inside.

“Ugh,” Shuri grunted aloud. “Pussy so fucking tight.”

“Oh God,” you slur out. as your body was working overtime to stay cool, you feel yourself beginning to sweat profusely. your freshly done silk press now glued to your shoulders. “You feel so fucking good”

The Princess swiftly grabs your arms and folds them, locking them behind you. She holds up your perfect frame, forcing you to look at you both in the mirror.

“Look how pretty you look taking this dick, hmm?” she says lowly in your ear while speeding up her pace.

“Oh, fuck,” not having any control over what happens now, you begin to panic, the knot you now knew to be so familiar beginning to arise in your stomach.

“Say it. I wanna hear you,” she demands.

“Shuri, please,” you beg her to go easy on you, but she wasn’t having it. She gives an electrifying smack to your ass.

“Say. It.” She says through grit teeth, now with one hand full of your hair, slamming into you harder, directly on your g spot.

“I— aghhh!” you fight to get the words out. “I l-look s-so pretty taking th— this dick!”

she smiles sinisterly and quickly agrees. “Mm, yes you do.”

a question you usually scoff at arises, however, it’s a pleasure to hear the next sentence come from Shuri’s lips.

“Who’s pussy is this? Hm?” she knew exactly how to get you riled up. She so badly yearned to hear you surrender to her after watching you with someone else all this time. especially someone who didn’t deserve you.

“It’s yours, Shuri,” your words began to spill over like a fountain in sonic moans. “It’s yours, I’m yours, I belong to you!”

it was music to Shuri’s ears. you were hers. you said it, and that’s all the confirmation she needed.

“and don’t you ever fucking forget,” she spat.

hearing the royal speak so filthy and so rough was so shocking yet so enticing. her every word carried you closer and closer to your whit’s end.

still stroking, she yanks your head back and passionately kisses you, swallowing all your moans.

stomach tight, shuri’s strokes began to get sloppy, feeling your constant contract and release. she was quickly approaching her arrival.

“Shhhhuri, I’m about to—“ you began, almost snatching the words out her mouth.

“Cum. Cum with me, my pretty girl.” she gives 4 more sloppy pumps before she slides out, cumming all over herself; but not before you left a creamy, white ring all around her base. as soon as she comes out completely, you squirt out all over her lower region; something you had never done before. you squeal, in shock and excitement.

“You did such a good job, usana” Shuri pecks your lips and taps your slightly bruised ass. you beam at the praise she gives. she picks you up and carries you to the bed, gently laying you down before slipped off her harness and climbing in with you.

draping the covers over your naked bodies, you cuddle into Shuri, placing your head on her chest and she pulls you in closer. you throw your leg over her lower torso to get close as possible. you both listen to each other’s breath slowly come down to its original state. Shuri picks up and holds your hand that was previously laying on her chest, and kisses it. At peace and well satisfied, you feel yourself begin to drift off to sleep.

“not you falling asleep already,” Shuri laughs, mockingly.

usually you’d protest, but you let her rock on this one.

“I love you so much.” you mummur, gazing up at Shuri.

“I love you so much more. Thank you for trusting me with your body.” She says sincerely.

“I trust you with my life.” you say authentically as ever, overcome with feelings of euphoria.

“I trust you with mine.” she replies, almost instantly.

shuri lifts her hand, inviting you to do the handshake your friend group had made. the two added a special ending that nobody new about. the two of you share a blissful laugh at the comedic ending of it.

“Alright, my love, get some sleep.” Shuri rubs small circles on your back with one hand and rubs the leg thrown over her with the other.

“You got a boyfriend to break up with tomorrow.”

#shuri udaku #letitia wright #shuri x y/n #shuri fic #riri williams #one shot #smut #fluff #lesbian #sapphic #prettymrswright

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thisapplepielife · 4 months ago

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Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

Oh My, Good Lord

Gareth watches the analytics tick upwards and he's getting concerned. It was meant to be a joke. Now, it's breaking containment.

Nobody has ID'd him yet, not as far as he knows, but there are lots of comments that mention that he looks familiar. So, it's coming. His tattoos are on full display, so he might as well be showing the world his fingerprints.

They're gonna figure it out.

And as soon as that happens, it's gonna get picked up by TMZ and then Eddie's gonna know and never shut the fuck up about it.

He should delete it.

Quit while he's ahead.

But, Di likes it. Says he looks good, and that she wants to show off her sexy husband. She's the one that put it to that popular sound clip and uploaded it to an account unattached to either of them. Just for fun, and it was fun, at first. Now it's threatening to really go viral and there'll be no escaping identification if that happens.

So, he's standing by. Hoping it'll have its brief moment in the algorithm and then fizzle out.

It's not like it's that racy. He's showing less than he showed every night for decades onstage. But he still feels exposed. The before, the kind of dorky kid that was in Hellfire Club, that's how he feels inside. Not whoever that slicked-back hair guy is.

Gareth's phone buzzes on his desk, and he picks it up, and it's a text from Eddie:

Got something to tell me, kid?

Gareth isn't sure what he's talking about, but then a photo is attached and yep. There it is. A screenshot of his viral video.

This you?

Well, shit.

He hovers in the text box, and he knows Eddie can see that he's dithering. Before he can make a decision, his phone is ringing. He'd just as well face the music now, there'll be no avoiding it. Not when it comes to Eddie.

He's never gonna live this down. No way in hell.

"Shut up," Gareth says by way of greeting, and Eddie just laughs, and laughs, and laughs.

"Kid," he finally says, "does Di know you did this?"

"Di filmed it and uploaded it. Yeah, she knows. I was an innocent bystander."

Eddie laughs, "Just wait until Goodie finds out."

Gareth grabs a fistful of his own hair and tugs. Goodie won't ever let it go. Gareth may have to move to another continent to escape him. Eddie will make fun, but it won't be anything on what Goodie'll unleash.

"Do not tell him, Eddie. I swear to god. How'd you even find it in the first place?"

"Steve. It showed up on his for you page, and he yelped like he'd been struck by lightning."

"Do I at least look good?" Gareth asks.

"Uh, well, I had to tell Steve to either mute his phone, put on headphones or, you know, just stop watching it on a loop. One or the other. The music was driving me crazy."

Gareth laughs. He's under no illusions that Steve Harrington actually thinks he's attractive, that's absurd, but there was something mesmerizing about it. That seamless quick cut from one version of him to the other. The stats show that people are looping it, for sure. How, even to himself, it was crazy to watch how he changed how he looked. Like he might not have been the same person at all.

He was, though. Yeah, Di made him up to be extra dorky for the before, but she also did some magic on the after, both in real life and with some sort of filter on top. But both worked together to make him look pretty damn different than he does on a daily basis. He falls somewhere in between the two. Not that goofy, but not that attractive, either.

But, he can almost look like that. It's been a funhouse mirror of a weird thing to realize.

And now Eddie knows.

Fuck.

He finds Di in the kitchen, folding towels.

"Eddie knows."

She looks up, meeting his eyes.

"Eddie knows what?" Di asks, folding another towel and putting it on top of the large stack on the kitchen island as she grabs the next one.

"About the tiktok," he says, and she laughs. Fucking cackles, and he smiles, because if she's that delighted there's no way he can't be, too.

"How'd he find it?" she asks.

"Steve," Gareth answers, "because the universe hates me."

"The universe wouldn't have given you that face if it hated you," she says, leaning forward and squeezing both of his cheeks between her fingers.

He's old. A dad. Of adults.

He was in a band, and they retired. That's how old he is. That his band stopped because they were so old they didn't want to be on the road anymore.

Now he's a tiktok thot.

The front door opens and slams closed, and Gareth looks up, expecting Eddie. It's not Eddie. He wishes it were Eddie.

Goodie's got his phone up, that seven-second clip of music playing on a loop.

Gareth hangs his head, "How'd you find out?"

"The kids called. Wanted to know when Uncle Gare got hot," Goodie says, "I'm traumatized. Is this a midlife crisis?"

"If it is, it's Di's," Gareth says.

"She did this?!" Goodie hollers, "She's the one that unleashed this evil onto the world?"

"Yep. Keep playing that, you're making me money."

Goodie pauses, then slumps down onto the couch, the music abruptly cutting off, "Well. If it was Di."

"Oh, when she does it, it's fine? But if I'd done it, that'd be gross?"

"Of course. She did it, and that's funny. If you'd did it, it'd just be sad."

Gareth ignores him. Then has a thought.

"So, Uncle Gare is hot, huh?" Gareth asks, unable to resist poking Goodie just one more time.

"Stop. I beg of you. Those are my children and they both need to find Jesus for saying such things."

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

Notes: Based off this tiktok. It just felt very Gareth-coded to me, and, well, here we are. The fake tiktok video screen in the header is made from a picture from Gwydion's insta where he dressed up like Gareth.

#corrodedcoffinfest #prompt twenty-five: gareth #goodie (unnamed freak) stranger things #gareth stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #freak stranger things #corroded coffin fic #ccf day twenty-five: gareth #thisapplepielife: corrodedcoffinfest #thisapplepielife: short fic

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wildlife4life · 11 months ago

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Seven (+) Sentence Sunday

Tagged by the very lovely @rainbow-nerdss, @fortheloveofbuddie @wikiangela @evanbegins and @daffi-990. Thank you! Can't wait for all your upcoming works!

In honor of the NFL regular season coming to an end today and the beginning of the playoffs, I'm sharing a part of a fan favorite. That's right ya'll, its an NFL Buck snippet! WOOOOO! (And I know this wayyyyy more than seven sentences, but are ya'll going to complain about extra NFL Buck?)

Eddie wasn't lying when he told Chimney he loved football. He just didn't say how much. When Chim invited the newest member of the 118 and his son to a kid friendly sports bar to watch the Rams play the Colts in Indy, he was expecting to be turned down. Hen encouraged it, "He needs friends that enjoy what he does. And I really can't listen to another rant about football stats or how Dustin Watson isn't taking the Texans to the tournament." "Deshaun Watson." Bobby corrected from the kitchen, "And its the playoffs." Hen rolls her eyes, "Whatever. You both have Sunday free and Buckley is playing, Christopher's favorite player." "How do you know the Ram's quarterback is playing, but not the name of the man who got Buckley kicked out of Texas?" Chim teased. "Denny." His friend answers simply, "You know he likes all things LA Rams." "Then why aren't you inviting Eddie and Christopher to your place to watch the game with Denny?" "Because Howard," Hen remarks a little sharply, "I'm not off Sunday and Karen has yet to meet Eddie, so it would be uncomfortable for everyone to have him in our home without me. Why are you arguing about this? You were just complaining about how Eddie and I are all buddy-buddy the other day." "You two have a lot more in common and somehow I always seem to stick my foot in my mouth whenever I talk to the guy. I freaking outed the dude!" Chimney reminds them. Bobby steps away from the stove and joins the two paramedics at the marble island, "Eddie wasn't making it easy for any of us to get to know him. Hen was just braver than most to actually approach him. Now its your turn and football is a good jumping point." Chimney opens his mouth to try objecting again, "And it will help in making up for the whole outing incident and interrogating his kid."

Cap had him there "And you'll pay." Hen demands and when Chimney arches a brow of slight disagreement she just shrugs and states, "It'll help dispel some of the notion of being his boyfriend's sugar baby and his birthday is the same week, making this an easy gift." And Hen made the kill shot. So Chimney awkwardly approached Eddie in the locker room at the end of their shift and invited him and Christopher to watch the game. He was happily surprised when Eddie said yes and brought an equally ecstatic Christopher with him without hesitation. Chim was additionally surprised with Eddie's total enrapture of the game, even more so with his undivided attention to the Ram's new quarterback, Evan Buckley. Every play the man made, Eddie was on his feet making some sort of comment. Good plays came with shouts of, "Good boy Buckley!" and "Great throw man!". Poor plays, interceptions, or missed opportunities, were met with, "Shake it off Buckley!" and "You got this Evan!" And any missed or bad calls from the refs... well Chimney knew foul language when he heard it, no matter what language. "We have a swear jar at home. It gets donated to Evan's charity at the end of the season." Christopher explains when he catches Chimney's questioning side glance after his father's latest f-bomb. Ah well, at least there's some sort of consequence to cursing in front of a child. "I have to pay up too if I say anything like my dad does, but I've never come close to his number." Chris adds on with a giggle and Chimney joins him with a low chuckle of his own. A niggle of curiosity has him asking, "And what about Buck?" The younger Diaz gives all his attention to what remains of his fries and shrugs with one shoulder, "Um... well I've never watched a game with Buck, but he does always double the jars total when we donate it." Chimney really wants to push on the whole matter of Eddie's partner of 10 years never once watching a game with the kid, but he knows interrigating Chris (again) about Buck (who is off limits unless otherwise brought up) would probably put an end to Eddie and Chim's burgeoning friendship. So he goes for a joke, "He must live with soap in his mouth if your dad is to go by." Earning a full belly laugh from the teen and Chimney counts it as a major win when Eddie glances back with bright grin.

I feel like Eddie and Chim have the whole, I'm friends with you because of a Buckley and because we work together thing. So take away the Buckley and its a bit of an awkward friendship, which I wanted to highlight and improve. Hope you all enjoyed!!!! More NFL Buck can be found here.

Tagging (no pressure): @disasterbuckdiaz @elvensorceress @devirnis @lover-of-mine @exhuastedpigeon @jesuisici33 @jamespearce9-1-1 @giddyupbuck @malewifediaz @hippolotamus @thewolvesof1998 @jeeyuns @911onabc @911-on-abc @bekkachaos @loserdiaz @hoodie-buck @try-set-me-on-fire @spotsandsocks @theotherbuckley @ladydorian05 @bigfootsmom @watchyourbuck @eddiebabygirldiaz @spaceprincessem @thekristen999 @spagheddiediaz @monsterrae1 @rogerzsteven @eowon @honestlydarkprincess @eddiescowboy @vampbuckley @bitchfacediaz @buck-coded @housewifebuck @arthursdent @glorious-spoon @buddierights @athenagranted @prosperdemeter2 @gayedmundodiaz

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timelesslords · 12 days ago

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fic writer twenty questions!!!

I got tagged by the beautiful lovely gorgeous @tapemonkey21 who has written some of my fav star wars fics to date and who got me on the cody/obi-wan/satine train without which my current wip would not exist <333

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

55!

2. What's your AO3 word count?

812,034 😵‍💫

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Rn only star wars with Ahsoka in it, but I've written for TLOU and PJO too!

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Under Freezing Stars

have my back, yeah, every day

Violent Heart

invisible string

For Real This Time

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yesssss!!! I honestly love responding to comments just as much as reading them. I like chatting with people and hearing their thoughts and their theories and what they want to happen next!! I think it makes it more fun for everyone but especially for me hehe

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

and the waves come crashing down for sure. I'm really not an angsty ending kind of person except with that fic lol

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Roman Holiday has the cheesiest mushiest most ridiculous holiday fluff ending ever <3

8. Do you get hate on fics?

haha yea 😭 messed up some niche details in my star wars fic and got absolutely lambasted in the comments lmao i never wanted to post sw again 😭 but then i realized i just needed to find the gay people and it all worked out lol

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I would say I'm retired from smut writing lmao 😭 but idk maybe something will change. i am not typing out the gory details of everything ive written on here I have no desire to get cancelled again

10. Do you write cross overs? What's the craziest one you've written?

No but I do write AU fusions <3 my favorite stupid insane one was a James Potter/Lily Evans Batman universe fusion fic it lowkey ate but I had to hide it because I was embarrassed at the quality and the very just-took-sociology-101 level of social commentary 😭

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't think so???? back in the day maybe lol

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No but I have had a few podfics of my fics made and that is my absolute most favorite thing ever ever 🥹

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

yes with my wonderful beautiful brilliant best friend forever who shares half of my brain @captain-jackson

14. What's your all time favorite ship?

all-time...,, whew. rn it's definitely Codywan. Idk if I have an all-time transcendent one that I always come back to tbh. I'm really more into platonic relationship dynamics than ships tbh

15. What's a WIP you'd like to finish but doubt you ever wilI?

God, I have one re-writing the Zygerria arc where Ahsoka sneaks onto the mission instead of being incorporated into it that i want to finish SO BAD. when the ties that bind is done I'm really going to hammer it out because I do love it but its kind of a monster.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I'm good with dialogue and characterization and, on occasion, plot twists.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I hate writing filler. I can't do it for the life of me, which means I also tend to have pretty poor pacing. im also bad at ending scenes which is why many times my chapters will end with my characters falling asleep 😭

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

jesus fucking christ it's so hard. doing it for Mando'a is hard and it's not even a real language. Usually I just go for the itallics but sometimes it's nice to have the immersion (which only works if you do it perfectly lol)

19. First fandom you wrote for?

I did not stake out the username "timelesslords" back in 2013 for the answer to this question to NOT be Doctor Who

20. Favorite fic you've ever written?

cheating and doing my fav from my three main fandoms:

Under Freezing Stars because it was the first long piece of fiction I ever finished, and without it I would not have made three of my best friends in the whole world so its very special and important to me

if you never bleed you're never gonna grow is one where I feel like I did something interesting and innovative with form and perspective and I'm really proud of it. I feel like a lot of times as a fic writer you can feel like what you're doing is repetitive and this one felt really unique to me!

The Ties That Bind is still a WIP but I honestly really love it and have been loving the process of writing it a lot. it's the first WIP I started posting without having at least 75% of the fic completed and it's been really interesting to see what a different process it is pre-writing vs writing as you go! Also, I love the plot contrivance that makes up the premise, I love working out all the little butterfly effects of that decision, I love making it gay and poly and I love writing a million different perspectives!!!

this was so super fun I miss doing tag games like this hehe :3 low pressure tags @bbyannabeth @lena-hills @bookishjules @captain-jackson & anyone else who wants to consider urself tagged by me :3

#lexi writes sometimes #fic reccing my own fics lfg #ty kat for tagging me this was so fun <333 #tag game #long post

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cuffmeinblack · 1 year ago

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Silk and Lace

Ominis Gaunt x Sebastian Sallow

3.9k words

Summary: Sebastian's teasing plants an idea in Ominis' head for a night of indulgent roleplay; and he isn't one to do things by halves.

ao3 link

A/n: It's maid Sebastian round two, this time with our lovely Ominis, and he's wearing the dress that altered my brain chemistry. Another smut fic inspired by Krabat. I'm sure it won't be the last.

Ominis ran his fingers over the delicate silk that clung to every crevice of his lithe frame. It had been made for him, quite literally. Finding a dressmaker with the required discretion for such a commission has been challenging. He daren’t use his family connections, begrudgingly though he might have for other favours; those particular craftsmen were bound to his father and not to him. No, this ensemble had required a talented hand from a less reputable source. A man who had clad the elite in sumptuous garments not usually discussed in polite society; one who understood and shared Ominis' particular proclivities.

Sebastian would be pleased.

Ominis had been told that the silk was a pleasing colour that brought out the jewel-like quality of his eyes and contrasted with the iridescence of his fair skin. Whatever that meant. He was simply pleased that the slits that parted the fabric sat high enough as to enable freedom of movement. His fingertips skimmed the seam, almost to his waist. Ludicrously high and infinitely alluring, he was sure. The neckline was a little more demure, though he was assured it gave the garment just the right balance of sophistication and down-right seductiveness.

The underwear left little to the imagination with its high legs and skimpy straps, but hugged him comfortably. The dressmaker had even been so kind as to suggest accessories; Ominis had opted for silk gloves held up with buckles that sat cold against his biceps, and a pair of French stilettos. The most uncomfortable pair of torture devices he'd yet encountered, but they did a fantastic job of accentuating his calves that dipped under his wandering fingertips. They also gave him extra height. He felt…powerful.

Every inch of him was shaved and oiled, his hair styled in his perfected coiffure. All he needed now was his beloved, who awaited him in their living room. Rife with anticipation, Ominis stood with surprising grace and poise considering the teetering heights he'd now obtained. Heels clicking on the parquet, he made his way through their shared home. He didn't need his wand; this route was one he'd made hundreds of times before. Whilst he knew what awaited him his veins still thrummed with excitement, his pounding heart growing stronger with every click and clack of his approach.

The idea had been born from a throwaway comment from Sebastian, referring to Ominis as the lady of the house. Merely because Ominis was the only one with any sort of domestic intuition—left to Sebastian, no doubt their affairs would be in disarray. He'd prickled and spat back a scathing retort.

“What does that make you, Sebastian? The staff?”

Sebastian had chuckled and let his voice drop into that altogether too silky baritone; the one he used when trying to coax Ominis into bed.

“If that's what the lady so desires.”

Ominis recalled the moment fondly and the corners of his mouth tugged into a smile. The cheek of him. As his fingers clasped the ridged brass doorknob, he hesitated to let his face fall into one of haughty indifference before twisting his hand. No sooner had Ominis pushed the door open and taken a single step inside than Sebastian had answered his entrance with his usual lack of decorum.

“Fucking hell.”

“Language, Sebastian. That is precisely why you hold the role of servant in this house.”

Ominis approached the source of the outburst; the leather sofa that sat opposite the fireplace. He moved slowly, purposely elongating his limbs with every step, holding his chin high and chest proud. He could only imagine what Sebastian’s expression must look like, but the low groan that filtered through the sound of crackling flames told Ominis all he needed to know. He perched on the cushion, letting the silk fall to one side to expose his legs; there was no use in being demure when it was clear what they both desired. Ominis found an unexpected obstacle when rearranging himself; warm, firm and as smooth as his own skin now lay.

“Feet on the furniture?” Ominis tutted.

“I've been waiting a while. It was worth the wait, though.”

Sebastian's calloused hands gripped Ominis' thigh and he swatted it away with a sharp rap on his knuckles. Ominis was nothing if not fastidious when it came to maintaining their roles during play.

“Let me…ah.”

He ran his hand up Sebastian's leg, expecting but never finding the hem of his outfit. Only when he skimmed the unmistakeable bulge of his manhood did he find the frilly lace.

“Well now, this is wildly inappropriate.”

“I’m not here to muck out the fireplace, Ominis.”

“Au contraire,” he purred mockingly. “I expect this room to be thoroughly dusted before we move to the bedroom.”

“I can't tell if you're serious or not, Ominis.”

“Deadly.”

Ominis allowed himself a chuckle as Sebastian groaned and grumbled off his comfortable perch. The perfect opportunity to sample the delights of his exposed figure presented itself as soon as he stood upright, leaving Ominis free to slip his hand beneath the obscenely short skirt.

“My, my,” Ominis hummed as he was met with yet more bare skin, hot to the touch.

“Easy access,” Sebastian commented.

The cotton wasn't as luxurious as Ominis' skirt, fitting with their respective parts. However, the lace trim and flouncy design made Ominis' imagination run wild, with the removable apron tied in a neat bow of particular interest as he fingered the fabric.

“Is the lady of the house pleased?” Sebastian drawled.

“Immensely. Now, do be an obedient little maid and pick up that feather duster. I shan't be kept waiting much longer.”

The request was bordering on absurdity, but how could Sebastian say no when asked by Ominis in that dress with that demanding tone? It was enough to make his cock twitch underneath his ruffled skirt. Sebastian picked up the feather duster, his mind occupied with other lewd thoughts about how the implement could be used. How long would Ominis tease him for, he wondered? Granted, they had all night, but he'd hoped that the majority would be spent with their bodies entangled and not removing cobwebs from the cornicing.

Ominis followed him in his towering heels, the already slender and elongated frame made even more so. Sebastian had never appreciated his legs quite as much as the moment Ominis perched against the writing desk. He knew exactly what he was doing, leaning back on his silk-enrobed hands, back slightly arched. He even lifted a leg onto the chair revealing yet more of that delicious ivory skin. So high was that slit that Sebastian could see the galaxy of beauty marks that flecked his hip bone.

Sebastian was salivating.

“Feet on the furniture?” he said, echoing Ominis' earlier complaint.

“Awfully rude of you to comment on such things. Especially when you've yet to finish your cleaning.”

Sebastian hummed in feigned annoyance and returned to dusting, always keeping his eyes on Ominis. He almost cleared the mantle of ornaments he was so distracted, prompting a knowing chuckle from the blond. Sebastian was sure his legs had spread further since he sat on the edge of the mahogany. The glint of a buckle caught Sebastian’s eye and drew his gaze. Sebastian might have forgone undergarments altogether, but Ominis had opted for something more tangible and somehow much more alluring. He caught a peek of black lace underneath that shimmering green dress and felt his manhood swell.

The tedium of dusting whilst Ominis sat so tantalisingly within reach was sheer torture, and entirely the point. By the time Sebastian could get his hands on Ominis, no doubt he would be begging for his touch. In the meantime, Ominis provided a constant stream of criticism meant only to rile him up, whilst following him around the room.

“I want that bookcase spotless, Sebastian,” Ominis said whilst slipping his hand so far up the inseam of his legs he grazed his balls.

Sebastian groaned and almost fell off his precarious perch, the small wooden stool wobbling as his legs almost gave way. He grumbled indignantly and stepped off of the step, using the sturdy bookcase to steady himself. His head was already dizzy and Ominis had barely touched him.

“It's done. I've dusted the whole damned room.”

Ominis merely hummed in assent and continued fondling his tight balls, his cock now fully erect and throbbing for attention.

“Have you done the light fixture?”

“Oh come on, Ominis…”

“Your pathetic whinging won't get you anywhere.”

With that scathing remark, Ominis traced the curve of Sebastian's leg to slip a finger between his cheeks. Ominis' digit probed and circled his hole and Sebastian let him, bending forward slightly to allow him access like a bitch in heat, moaning all the while.

“Please, Ominis,” he gasped as a knuckle grazed his right ring.

“Now he says please. You could have had my cock inside you half an hour ago if you'd just asked nicely, Sebastian.”

“You’re a git…ah!”

Ominis' finger delved further inside Sebastian, gently stroking in rhythm to the gentle caress of his thigh. Sebastian slumped against the bookcase, dislodging Ominis’ careful arrangement of the myriad texts. Somewhere behind him, amongst his heavy breathing and low moans he heard the blond tutting as a hardback fell to the floor.

“Can’t get the staff these days,” Ominis chuckled, pressing himself into Sebastian’s back.

Now he could feel what Ominis wouldn’t divulge with words; that he was just as aroused as Sebastian himself. Beneath the thin layers of silk and lace, his stiffness strained against the pretty lingerie and pressed hard into Sebastian’s behind.

“I’ll enjoy peeling this off of you.”

Ominis’ sultry voice slithered down Sebastian’s ear to ignite a burning desire in his chest, his stomach, his groin. His entire body seemed to tingle and ache whilst Ominis continued his probing, teasing increasingly broken whines from his mouth. The time for shame had passed, and Sebastian let his desperation spill forth. Only vaguely aware of what Ominis’ other hand was doing, he felt a change in pressure around his waist, sometime after Ominis had inserted a second finger.

The sounds that clawed their way out of his throat were borderline obscene, and he felt for their neighbours. A jumbled series of expletives amongst his pathetic keening were all he could manage as Ominis began stretching him and his lips finally met his neck. Those soft, perfect lips that Sebastian dreamed about so often. Ominis’ mouth might have been Sebastian’s favourite part of him; capable of such witticisms, yet such obscenities. Not only was he adept with language, but he certainly knew how to put that silver tongue to use in other ways.

“Let’s move this to the bedroom, shall we?” Ominis suggested, a whisper against his ear.

Oh thank Merlin.

Sebastian was about ready to start grovelling. He groaned as Ominis removed his fingers and left his neck with a gentle nip at the skin. The click of heels indicated Ominis’ departure, and he knew he was meant to follow obediently. That he did, mesmerised by his lover’s movements; every inch of him dripping in elegance. So transfixed he was on the shapeliness of his tight little waist, Sebastian almost missed the fact that he had his apron balled up in his fist. His blood raged to think of what plans he had for the ridiculous cotton accessory—Ominis always had a motive, in every little thing he did. The removal had been carefully considered.

Case in point, their bedroom had been prepared beforehand. Whilst Sebastian had been busying himself lounging on the sofa, Ominis had set the scene for their night of passion. Far from the harsh light of the living room, that which greeted Sebastian as he stepped into the bedroom was soothing. The amber glow of the candles warmed Ominis’ skin, the silk that hugged his musculature to perfection now shimmered in the gently flickering light. Dare he say, the man standing before him looked ethereal in his beauty.

“Are you staring, Sebastian?”

The silence had obviously been a giveaway, and Sebastian chuckled quietly before pouncing. Fuck the roles and their little game; Sebastian had waited hours. He pressed his lips against Ominis’ before the blond could object, hands grasping greedily at those exposed hips and skimpy lingerie. Oh, how he’d like to rip that particular garment off with his teeth. Ominis appeared to allow the advance, a breathy sigh slithering into Sebastian’s open mouth. Soon their tongues entangled, a sweet relief to be caressed by those soft, moistened lips. He slid his hands over every inch of Ominis’ delectable body in reach, and once he’d explored it all, he dropped to his knees as if in worship.

“Tsk, so eager,” Ominis teased.

His dishevelled hair and flushed skin almost broke the illusion of his cool façade, until Ominis regained his composure in a flash.

“Don’t pretend you weren’t enjoying yourself,” Sebastian replied.

Ominis’ retort never came, instead he perched on the edge of their quilted bed and beckoned Sebastian over. Before Sebastian could clamber over him and claim his prize, his chest was impaled by a sharp patent leather heel. The shoe dug into his flesh, almost bruising his ribcage in the process. Lucky, then, that he was so distracted with the seductive look on Ominis’ face, and the view this particular obstacle afforded him. With his leg raised, Sebastian saw everything underneath that elegant dress of his. Milky white skin travelled from foot to thigh, seemingly forever, until it reached the crease of his hip. There, Sebastian just about lost his mind.

The flash of lace had been a prelude to this…this work of art. The lingerie disappeared between his cheeks; truth be told, there was barely anything of it. The lace was decadent, finished in gold and he was sure (unless he was actually quite mad) that it depicted entwined snakes. How fitting, Sebastian mused. Of course, his focus wasn’t really on the details of the underwear, more how Ominis’ impressive cock looked squeezed into it. Perhaps he’d been contained at one point, but now fully erect, his length spilled from the top to reveal his plump, pink head.

“Gods, you look magnificent,” Sebastian sighed.

Ominis dug his heel in further, drawing another pained groan from Sebastian’s mouth, and he once again dropped to the floor in submission.

“Tell me again,” Ominis prompted.

“You…look…magnificent…”

Sebastian punctuated each word with a kiss to Ominis’ silky smooth leg, tracing the contour of his shin to his knee and inner thigh. There he hesitated only slightly, asking silent permission. Ominis gave it in the form of parting his legs and Sebastian felt his cock harden even more, if that were even possible. He trailed his lips to that crevice he enjoyed; to the sensitive skin just next to Ominis’ hard length, he bestowed a gentle kiss. Slowly he pushed the jade silk away to really get a view of him in all his glory, saliva pooling in his mouth as he pressed his lips firmly to the lace-clad shaft.

“Let me suck your cock, Ominis. Please.”

Ominis smirked ever so slightly at the plea then laced his fingers through Sebastian’s fluffy brunet mane.

“How could I resist such an enticing offer?”

A little pressure from the base of his skull guided Sebastian back to Ominis’ lap as the blond leaned back on the bed, head flung back in anticipation. Sebastian merely groaned and rolled his hips against thin air before getting to work. He licked a firm stripe up the length of that delicious cock, the lace rough against his tongue. With a dexterity that surprised him given his lustful intoxication, he clamped his teeth around the delicate band holding the whole ensemble up and tugged. It didn’t take much for the lingerie to fall away with the aid of Ominis’ rising hips. His lover chuckled, turning swiftly into a soft moan the second Sebastian enveloped his cock in his mouth’s warmth.

Pulse racing and head swimming, he revelled in the taste of him, merely licking and kissing the swollen tip for a long while. When he sensed Ominis’ impatience, he moved on, taking him deeper, deeper, deeper. Sebastian stroked himself as his tongue swirled around Ominis’ cock with each bob of his head, salacious moans filling the room amongst heavy breaths. The cacophony was exhilarating, but not loud enough to completely mask the rhythmic rustle of fabric or wet squelching of his slickened palm.

“I can hear you, Sebastian. If you want to come all that badly I’ll be the one to do it.”

Sebastian hummed a reply that no, he wasn’t ready quite yet. Wrapping his hand now glistening with his own arousal around Ominis’ shaft he began to suck him off in earnest. He moved his hand in time to his mouth, hollowing his cheeks to draw increasingly ragged moans from Ominis’ lips as the pressure built. Deeper he took him, until he felt the tight ring of muscle in his throat protest. Ominis appeared nonplussed by Sebastian's struggle, his thin fingers forcing his head to steady with a searing pain to his scalp.

“S-Sebastian…”

His composure finally broken, Ominis cried Sebastian's name as if the heavens themselves could hear him. When he finally relinquished his grip, Sebastian spluttered and gasped for breath, eyes glazed with unshed tears. If he hadn't been before, he was certainly desperate to be ravaged now.

“On the bed,” his demand came whilst Sebastian was still coughing.

Ominis' dexterous fingers made short work of Sebastian's ensemble whilst he busied himself with the delicate buttons around the blond’s neckline. When the dress finally fell away and they knelt facing each other naked, Sebastian thought that perhaps there was a God. No matter how many times he laid eyes on Ominis' form, he never failed to be rendered speechless. Even so, Ominis had a well thought out plan for that apron he'd stolen. Sebastian watched as he folded the fabric around itself, holding out the cotton ties with a deadpan expression.

“Be a good boy and put this in your mouth.”

“You want to gag me? After all your moaning and begging whilst I sucked you off?” Sebastian scoffed.

Ominis’ face pinched into a frown.

“Certainly. You make a poor servant so far, Sebastian. Do make it up to me, won't you?”

Sebastian grinned like a young lad in a sweet shop but kept up the pretense of indignation, huffing for Ominis’ benefit. He took the apron and bit down on the cotton, the uncomfortable sensation of cloth against his teeth not enough to rid him of the mounting excitement that went straight to his neglected cock. He tied it as Ominis' hands covered his own, pulling the ties just that little bit tighter until he was satisfied. Saliva pooled on the fabric. Sebastian waited.

“On your knees for me tonight, my love.”

Sebastian didn't need telling twice; he scrambled on the bed to position himself, gently squeezing his cock as he waited for Ominis. The blond's fingers found his half-prepped hole easily enough, this time sliding in his digits with extra lubrication that warmed and tingled pleasantly.

“Come on, hurry up,” Sebastian had tried to say, only producing a glob of spit and garbled protest.

Ominis laughed and took his sweet time, curling his fingers to make Sebastian whine against his gag. When finally Ominis was satisfied, Sebastian breathed a sigh of anticipatory relief and pressed his face into the bed sheets. Ominis finally lined his cock up with his entrance and pushed firmly and decisively, and Sebastian swore that the moment was the best of his life. As if he'd been waiting years to be filled so satisfyingly, every nerve ending seemed set ablaze. He gripped the sheets until his knuckles whitened as he felt the press of Ominis' balls against his cheeks. A hard smack to his behind nearly sent him over the edge of his sanity.

“More, please…fuck, you feel so good,” Sebastian once again tried to say.

There was little point to his begging but he did it anyway; he had a suspicion Ominis liked it so. He groaned louder still once Ominis started to roll his hips, his own gasping sighs adding to Sebastian's pleasure. He did so love to hear Ominis in the throes of passion; his usually composed demeanour crumbling with every touch, every thrust. The sultry voice behind him filled the room as Sebastian reeled with pleasure, only vaguely aware of the words spoken

“I have to say…I miss you moaning my name…but at least I don't have to…endure the utter filth that pours out of your mouth.”

Sebastian’s muffled reply was muted by a hard thrust and increase in tempo that made fresh tears well in his eyes. He was approaching the point of being unable to speak, unable to move, merely able to whine whilst Ominis pounded him into the bed. That sweet spot inside him was endlessly caressed with every stroke until he was only a mess of limbs, a toy for Ominis' pleasure. Sebastian was close to his climax, the constant stimulation altogether too much to bear any longer; he needed an outlet for the agonisingly sweet tension pooled inside him.

“Close already?” Ominis breathed against his neck.

Wandering hands travelled over Sebastian's burning skin, arriving at his weeping cock. Ominis held him, unmoving, only the pummelling from behind providing any sort of friction into that palm. Sebastian whined again, head fuzzy and desperation growing. The cotton in his mouth was saturated with drool and tears alike by this point. An utter mess of Ominis' making.

“Please…,” he begged once again, the tone more than indicative of what he desired.

“Such a little slut, Sebastian…”

That had done it. Sebastian cried out as he reached his peak and orgasm exploded. Ripping through his body like wildfire, his limbs convulsed under the sheer pleasure, only vaguely aware that Ominis was still fucking him senseless through it all. He'd collapsed onto the bed with his sensitive cock trapped beneath him, now leaking all over their very expensive quilt. Merlin knows how many bodily fluids this bed has already seen.

Sebastian finally fell limp after a while, breathless and whimpering as Ominis stayed buried deep inside him. The blond was still rock hard, thin fingers grabbing handfuls of freckled flesh and soft lips sending shivers down Sebastian's spine. Ominis might have been muttering praises in his ear, or maybe he was merely imagining it in the post-orgasm haze. He certainly felt his lover's weight on top of him, and the warm embrace that made him smile against his fabric binding.

Once Sebastian's breath had steadied, he felt Ominis shift and prompt him to turn. The release of pressure from his hole made him groan, Ominis’ heavy cock falling against his hip as he twisted on the bed. Finally, Sebastian could see the product of their lovemaking. He adored Ominis' flushed skin and the strands of hair falling over his opalescent eyes. He was simply the most beautiful thing he had ever and would ever lay eyes upon.

Ominis smiled softly with a hint of seduction. Oh, he was far from done. When the blond's hands travelled to his face to finger the apron's tie, Sebastian grabbed Ominis' wrist to stop him. He wasn't finished quite yet, either.

#ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow #sebinis #ominis gaunt x sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x ominis gaunt

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