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randombush3 · 2 years ago

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Floss Got Hot IV

florence pugh x reader

[series masterlist]

summary: exes and ‘oh’s…

words: 9216

warnings: smut, drinking, brief panic attack

notes: IM SORRY ABOUT THE WAIT MY LOVES

“As in your ex-boyfriend Zach?”

Flo looks horrified. And mortified. She feels sick.

“The actor Zach?” You keep going every second she’s quiet; “the old one? The one you lived with? The one that looks like—”

“Stop fucking holding that against me! I’m genuinely upset, Y/n.” You love her, but you’ve got to laugh.

“I don’t mind meeting him.” Maybe this is the side of you that needs to be humbled, Flo wonders. Your ego has got to be big if you’re not annoyed. “But why?”

She shifts her weight on her feet, uncomfortable. It’s a stupid reason. It’s such an LA reason. “We’ve got to do the dog handoff.” There’s no way you can’t laugh at that. She finds a cushion quick enough to hit you when you’re vulnerable. “I’m stressed about it.” Your girlfriend climbs over the back of the sofa onto your lap. You groan. You get hit by a cushion again. “You’re a terrible girlfriend.”

“Never sleep with your heroes.”

“I hate you.”

“I’m not scared of your ex, Flo. Is he coming to Budapest?” He better not be staying with you. You wouldn’t appreciate that at all. She nods fretfully.

“Staying for a night and then flying out to London. He hasn’t asked to stay with us but…”

“I have a whole hotel!”

“It feels rude. He’s bringing my baby, and he’s agreed that she can live with me most of the time.” Toby would crucify his sister for sharing custody over a dog, so Flo then asks you to keep it quiet. She won’t live it down at family dinners. They’ll be ruthless. “Can he… Can he stay?”

“Can we have really, really loud sex when he does?”

That’s your third strike. Next time she’ll hit you without a cushion.

“I agreed so you can’t be cross with me.” She can and she will. “Was that why you broke down multiple times today?”

“I’m nearly on my period.”

“You overthink.”

“Not all of us are perfect.”

Flo has noticed that nothing fazes you. You work and keep her feeling loved, you can drink too much and carry on like it never happened the next day, and she feels a little insecure. She feels that way because you’re intimidating. Someone that put together is intimidating.

“Flossie, how can I be perfect?” You sigh as she adjusts how she’s sitting, now with her legs either side of you and her forehead pressed against yours. “You haven’t seen me have a bad day yet. When I have them, everything goes to shit. Trust me.”

“I don’t believe you,” she mumbles, snaking her hands around your neck.

“One time I lost it and cried in a board meeting.” It was embarrassing. You had needed them to take you seriously but your emotions thought the opposite.

“I bet you were a baby.”

“It was six months ago,” you correct, smiling when she giggles. “And once I tried to talk to a Japanese investor in Japanese — we needed a lot of money from him and he needed more convincing. I thought I had told him his office was lovely, I said that I was horny by accident. They don’t even sound similar.”

She laughs outwardly. No longer trying to miserable, grinning. “That’s awkward.”

“Worst part was that he’d already tried to get in my pants the previous evening at dinner.” You swear you hear her say who wouldn’t try that, and find a way to fight off your blush and take the piss simultaneously. “You’re so in love with me.”

“Am not,” she declares. A futile denial but a funny one.

Bemused, you counter, “Has it been decades?”

“Decade,” replies Flo, rolling her eyes. “I’m not the one building a hotel for my girlfriend.”

“I hate the term girlfriend,” you groan, smirking. “I don’t want Zach to think you’re my girlfriend.”

“I’m not getting engaged to you.” Worth a shot. “You can’t ask me like this. That’s not romantic, you need to be romantic.”

“I’m not a romantic person, Florence.”

She shakes her head. “Don’t I know that.” Flo sinks into your lap now, getting comfortable. You know she’s aware of how tense you become, how your body temperature lurches up a few degrees, how if she grinds down ever so slightly you’d probably moan. In fact, she actively decides to be super still, no matter how uncomfortable it becomes, until you initiate something. You don’t like begging, but she loves being irritating.

After a minute, she breaks the silence. “Babe” — she never calls you babe — “can you turn on the TV?”

You’re drawn out of your fantasy in which this situation is a lot more favourable, forced to reach for the remote and carry out her wish. “Any channel?” A Hungarian news network suffices, lunchtime news won’t be aggressive.

“Y/n,” Flo says, voice low, “I’m giving you the most perfect opportunity to take my clothes off.”

You manoeuvre your head around her body, shrugging her arms off your neck. “I want to watch the news,” you dismiss. Through the reflection in the TV, you watch Flo remove her t-shirt (your t-shirt). She isn’t wearing anything underneath.

“No, you don’t.” You can feel her pressing into you, her bare skin against your organically-sourced, overly-expensive navy sweatshirt.

“You’re right,” you quickly amend, grabbing her hips and using them to recentre your view to her. ‘My eyes are up here’ would be a very appropriate statement right about now. “I don’t,” you breathe, “I really, really don’t.”

“Hm.” It’s a triumphant little sound. Definitely Flo one, you zero. “What do you suggest we do?”

“…Each other?” That’s one way to put it.

She pauses, as if debating whether you should be allowed near her after saying that, but concedes with a sigh, dipping her head down slightly to reach your lips. You smile into the kiss, only because you’ve managed to annoy her and frustrate her very successfully – not because being kissed by your girlfriend makes your brain go fuzzy and send you up to heaven. It could never be that.

Your hands were once modestly on her waist, but that is forgotten the moment you bring them to palm her breasts, teeth clashing against each other as you both realise how long it has actually been. Today, neither is too exhausted to tap out early or succumb to the other’s ‘let me take care of you’. It’s now a competition.

Flo has always put up a fight; right now it’s to stay on top. To make it so that your shorts are coming off first, not hers. She needs it, probably, to quell the insecurity that secretly nibbles at her, but you conclude that if you are going to truly make her feel better, you will need to be a challenge worth doing. Not that you’re ever not worth doing in her eyes.

Her lips, her tongue, her teeth become your everything, everywhere, all over you, biting down, sucking, running her tongue over your skin. You are consumed by her well-conveyed desire, all the while still kneading at her chest. She sits up on her knees as you lean into the plush back of the sofa, moaning softly at the sight of you. This is not a side of you many get to see, because not many have actually made you feel the way she does. Unrestrained, wild. Alive.

Panting and then catching your breath, you pull her into you, not caring if her elbow jabs your ribs. With, “we need to get away from these windows,” and a chaste kiss to her collarbone, you stand up with her legs locked around you, enjoying the display of strength. She waits only a second – the time it takes for you to pass the offending glass and reach the more private corridor – to continue her assault on every inch of your exposed body, and when you get to the master bedroom she is halfway through the removal of your sweatshirt. It’s disappointing to find that you’re wearing a bra, but it’s nothing that can’t be fixed with a swift motion of her fingers. Flo has always been way better at taking bras off than putting them on, a fact she discovered when she first wrestled on Womanhood.

You grunt softly as your back hits the firm mattress, feeling the coolness of the sheets rush over the heat of your body until it is beaten the moment she’s on top of you again, this time with nothing else on. Willingly, you relinquish all control of your body to the woman kissing her way down your sternum, paying no heed to any neighbours as moans fall through your lips into the otherwise silent apartment. Well, silent save the murmur of Hungarian news. Her fingers dance their way up your inner thighs, but when your hips rise in pursuit of what should be there, they meet only emptiness and a throaty laugh from Florence.

“Don’t be mean,” you find yourself snapping at her. She draws her wandering hands back, and you feel a sudden shiver of coldness.

Though it does take a moment to see past your sexual frustration, you recognise the expression sweeping her features as one that you often catch in photos of you together. She has stopped to admire you. You want nothing more than to break the bed if she is going to keep looking at you like that.

“You are so beautiful,” she whispers, quiet because it doesn’t feel right to be loud and abrasive near you.

“Would I look more beautiful between your legs?”

And it hits you that this might be the first time you have sex and not need to be touched to gain anything.

Oh, and Flo almost dies.

By the time she has recovered from the life-threateningly intense emotions she just felt, you’re no longer underneath her. Nimble and experienced, you have rolled her onto her back, but she has to crane her neck downwards to find your body and face. You are patiently waiting for your girlfriend to come back to Earth, using the time to gather your stamina and regain control of your breathing.

“Y/n?” Flo asks weakly. You hum in response, and she feels your exhale wash over her entire body. “Please fuck me.” That does the trick.

Your arms hook around her thighs, both of you burning hot, pulling her closer into you. Her hands slide out, anchoring her by bunching up the bed sheets and holding on for dear life. The TV’s soft hum is interrupted by your phone ringing, but you ignore it without hesitation. Whatever it is, it can wait.

Finally, Flo’s head lulls back as your tongue slips over her, a soft moan escaping from her lips. You chuckle to yourself, very aware of the vibrations that slice straight through your girlfriend. Your tongue is steady and assured until you skim her clit, changing from heavy to light with a simple movement. She gasps and almost gives into the urge to push your head down but has no time to when you slide your hands up her thighs and pull her even tighter into you. With frightening ferocity your tongue falls again onto her clit, swirling, sucking, adding to the wetness that is beginning to drip down the insides of her thighs.

She twists and writhes and arches her back as your attack on her begins to become too much, your magical mouth doing things it hasn’t done to her before. A sharp whine surpasses her lips as they fall open, and they don’t stop until she physically has to breathe. Even then, her breathing is ragged and heavy, as if she can’t function with you between her legs.

She can’t function with you between her legs.

A hand tentatively lets go of the sheets, but suddenly your tongue is inside of her and she needs something to hold onto. It’s an accident when she pulls your hair so hard that you whimper, though your eyes immediately look up into hers and dare her to do it again. She can’t carry out your request, because all the tension builds to a point where a graze of any part of her body would have her crying out. Her hips buck into your mouth as you move your lips back to her clit and replace your tongue with your fingers. You’re no longer holding her down, meaning she can grind into you, chasing her orgasm as if you hadn’t been getting her there all this time. Flo hears herself just before she comes, the moans, the whimpers.

You think you’re going to suffocate when she comes. Her thighs clench around you, freezing in position save the shudder that runs through her. White heat explodes in Flo, setting every inch of her body on fire, and her breath catches painfully in her throat, eventually released when she reminds herself she hasn’t yet ascended to heaven (it sure felt like it).

“You’re good at that,” she pants. She then realises you’re trapped.

When you can breathe again, you kiss her fiercely. She can taste herself all over you, on your neck, your jaw, your tongue. You break only to ask if she’d like some water, both of you downing a glass each, and spend the next few hours tallying orgasms and attempting to beat the record of fourteen for her and twelve for you. It isn’t hard when you’re driven by the fact her ex-boyfriend will be staying over in two days.

- - -

In the early hours of the morning, you both wake up, having fallen into appropriately deep sleeps around dinner time. She claims neither of you will go back to sleep considering 4am is too close to six for proper rest, and then threatens to smother you with a pillow if you try to convince her that that is not your stomach rumbling.

You pull on a hoodie and joggers when she forces you out of bed, letting her do her morning routine while you pick the clothes up from the bedroom and living room floors, turning the Hungarian news off. Your phone has vibrated its way onto the hardwood, lying face up with four missed calls from her mum.

“Mum hasn’t called me in a week,” Flo mutters behind you, shaking her head. “That woman has favourites, I’m telling you.” You laugh, setting a reminder to call Deb back at a more reasonable time. She wraps her arms around you, burying her face into the black fabric of Toby’s merch. “He charged me for my sweatshirt so I refused to buy it. I’m in the fucking song, but that’s not enough clearly.” He had been such a dick about giving you his hoodie for free, so you told him not to get you a birthday present. You gave him a slap around the head for his birthday that year.

“I’m going to lie on the sofa and pretend I’m not awake.” She calls you dramatic. “I can’t believe you think this is logical. Millie is going to think my laptop has been stolen if I log on this early.” You’re a late-night workaholic by choice. The only acceptable business that you’ll wake up for is travel, and that’s because you were banned from the private jet when you used it to fly five alpacas from Southern Peru into Luton airport to keep as pets. What your parents should have taken away from that incident was that they shouldn’t instruct staff not to question their children, but you don’t mind being distanced from the beastly metal bird seeing as it has been renamed after your step-mother. So much for it being called Y/n.

“Let me have my tea and then I’ll make us coffee and breakfast.” You nod sluggishly, climbing onto the sofa and closing your eyes. “Did you charge the speaker?”

You groan. “I think I might give you back to Zach.” The music’s good, but it’s fucking loud, and you’re aching. “I’ll find another woman who sleeps well into the afternoon. You’re going to make our children morning people if I don’t get rid of you now.”

“Oh yeah?” Flo doesn’t want to admit how much your throw-away sentence means to her, instead trying to focus on successfully pouring the boiling water into a mug. “How many kids are we having?” she calls from the kitchen, looking over at you from behind the island in the open-plan apartment.

“Two!” you shout back, smiling at the thought. “Toby wants two as well and I want to have the better pair of your parents’ grandkids.” So far the best is Bella’s baby because it’s the only one they have.

“With the better Pugh!”

She doesn’t like the sound of your grunt. It’s akin to a scoff. “The best Pugh is Raff!” You’ve known Raffie pretty much her whole life now that you think about it. Flo sits on one of the dining table chairs as she drinks her tea. “Oh, what are we getting her for her birthday? Millie says she’d like that Vivienne Westood necklace that everyone apparently has, but I got her a necklace for her eighteenth.”

“I was just going to get Saoirse to send her a text,” Flo says casually. “Y/n, darling, you need to be a proper billionaire and get your assistant to sort it out. She’ll be too drunk to care on her birthday.”

“I’m not going to Venice. Your publicist told Millie, and Millie’s already scheduled my meetings.” Flo’s publicist is a formidable woman who is going to call you at seven in the evening today to discuss this further.

You carry on explaining your gift dilemma as she finishes her tea and starts on coffee. She needs lots of coffee to comprehend all the information you’re giving her, because once you get started on something, you won’t stop. Flo much prefers your quiet moaning and groaning to this newfound early-morning chattiness.

“What time are you going to set?” you ask after she kisses you to shut you up. “I’ve got a meeting at one, and I want to see what all this fuss about your acting is about. I don’t believe you’re that good,” you tease her. She is not impressed. “I won’t slag you off to Toby, I swear.” Flo raises her eyebrows. “I won’t!”

“Timmy has been pestering me to introduce him to you. He’s convinced he could steal you from me.” You clear your throat. “Sorry. Not from me, but… You know?”

“But Timmy is a man,” you state plainly. “There has to be a lot of stuff in my system for me to do men.”

That reminds Flo of a burning question. Your answer might really ruin her mood. “Have you slept with Toby?” She has had guy friends, and some of her friends from her teenage years were definitely more than that. Your face is a relief, thank god, because the sheer disgust in your eyes and the fact that you don’t even try to hold back your gag indicates strongly towards the negative. “Good.”

You debate telling her, and then it slips out, “I’ve slept with Scarlett.” Flo looks intrigued. “Not when they were together, before that. And, you know what, I think I might have made out with Hailee Steinfeld at one point. We were so drunk, and Toby and Sophie completely egged us on. She’s a really good kisser.”

“She’s…?”

“I don’t know,” you answer, shrugging, “anything goes after shots. Hence why I try to avoid shots.” That and gin. Bad things happen after you’ve had a few gin and tonics. “Since we’re on this topic, did you lose your virginity to the boy you met on the beach that one time in Greece? Toby and I have long wondered whether it was him or the girl you were kissing the year before at one of those entertainment team discos.”

Flo blushes as she’s yet again reminded that you were there for all her bad holiday mistakes.

“Um,” she falters, almost spilling hot coffee on herself. “The girl, but she ignored me afterward. I think her family was really religious, because she ran away muttering something under her breath.” Flo remembers hearing the beginning of a prayer and almost dies inside.

“Did you not recognise her in Paris?” you question. Flo is glad that all hot drinks have now been consumed, seeing as you down your coffee because you don’t like the taste and she downs it because she needs more caffeine to have this conversation.

“No,” she groans with a frown. “She was there? Did she recognise me?”

“Yeah, but she didn’t want to say anything. They all know we’re together.” You are talking about the social circles your family are in, of course, not the general public.

“How do you suggest everyone else finds out?” she asks, seeing as it’s easy to bring it up in the conversation. You should be on the same page if you’re going to call her publicist, to be fair.

“We film a sextape and put it on Twitter. Simple.”

“I see why she asked you not to go to Venice.”

“We should still film a sextape.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“If it gets leaked they’ll know Harry Styles has nothing on you. The world’s not ready for your talents.” She rethinks her statement, correcting it. “Bar the hundred people you’ve had sex with.”

“Can’t believe the whole world got to see your boobs,” you complain. “It makes me feel very unspecial.” She rolls her eyes. You’ve made this point before. “I buy you a five thousand pound necklace and you–”

“Oh, be quiet. I love you. You’re a billionaire and you’re going to freeload in my flat.”

“I’m building you a fucking hotel!”

“Don’t you dare get down on one knee right now.” You smirk. Maybe… Just to spite her… “No, Y/n, because I’ll say yes. And I’m not ready to say yes, but you make me incapable of saying anything else and I’ve held out long enough.”

“I’m going to propose after we have really, really loud sex when Zach’s here.”

“Never meet your heroes is such a fucking true statement.” By ‘meet’ she means ‘sleep with and date and marry and have babies with’. Not that the latter have happened yet. “And we’re not doing that when Zach’s here because Billie is used to sleeping beside me so you’re on the sofa.”

“Why isn’t Zach on the sofa?”

“He’s our guest so he gets the spare room.” That makes you feel fucking fantastic! “It’s one night. You’ll be fine and I’ll go out and buy some Hungarian lingerie the minute he leaves.”

“Fuck that,” you declare much to her surprise. She thought you’d be easily compensated with the prospect of ruining more of her underwear. “If I’m on the sofa then I’m going to my hotel. Budapest is the only city hotel with a spa. I’ll ask for their prettiest masseuse.”

“You’re so petty.”

“You’re such an actor! You’ve got shared custody of a dog.” She laughs. “I might have to buy a Union Jack dildo to fuck the Brit back into you, because Billie is a dog.”

“Where are you going to find a—”

“You’d be surprised, Floss.” She shakes her head, not wanting to know anymore. You look down at the sizzling of the pan, smiling. “I wanted my eggs sunny-side up, not burnt. Looks like we’ll have to feast on those granola bars in your trailer.”

She frowns and raises the spatula to your face threateningly, swatting the air when you clear out of her way. “Text my assistant to tell him you’re coming. Is your meeting in person?” You say no, because it’s Aunt Board Member who’s calling from Surrey. “Fancy working in my trailer then? I won’t disturb you.”

“Sure,” you answer, both agreeing to her request and disagreeing with her statement. “Millie and I are having a late lunch at Onyx as my apology for blowing off yesterday, so I’ll leave then. I should probably buy some wine for when Zach comes? And a bed for Billie?” Flo doesn’t have the heart to remind you Billie’s sleeping in your bed.

- - -

Regrettably, the day of Zach’s visit pounces on you. Flo has an early morning shoot, but around lunchtime she calls to tell you it’s morphed into the whole day. The cast, who you met the day before, pick up on who she’s talking to and deafen you by screaming down the phone about drinks and dinner and various well-wishes as if they didn’t see you yesterday, though you remind everyone of how busy you will be this evening. You tried to escape it with no success.

Because you love your girlfriend, you agree to take over the task of picking your guests up from the airport. Millie laughs as you explain the situation, setting up a driver who she knows plays music seeing as there most definitely will not be much conversation. Flo instructs you to take lots of pictures of Billie and to be polite to Zach. You’re always polite. Etiquette classes cost hundreds of pounds, and your parents were prepared to pay that.

She gives you his number and forces you to send him a text so he knows it’s you. The same number tells you his plane has landed, so you set off in the car with an extremely scary scowl (the driver almost retracts his hand from the door when you look at him) and tell him you’ll be there in twenty minutes.

The first thing you notice about Zach is the dog beside him.

Billie is excited, tail wagging, mouth open and panting. She bounces at your feet, ignoring Zach’s command to calm down, unrelenting in her attempt to tackle you to the floor. You suppose you stink of her mum.

Zach inwardly cringes as he takes in your outfit when Billie’s paws begin to crease your clothes. Most days you opt for business-casual, but today happens to also be the day you met with the hotel management for Budapest, and you’re not complaining about completely outdressing him. While he is in tired jeans and a t-shirt, you are in a very expensive suit and stilettos. So what if it’s a little childish?

“I’m Y/n.” You smile. He can tell it’s phony.

“Zach, and,” he nods to Billie, who has finished her assault and is now rubbing against you, “this is Billie.”

You gesture to the driver, who is by your side at once, taking Zach’s bags from him. The two of you follow him to the car, Billie pulling hard on her leash in excitement. “Floss is still filming,” you explain because his disappointment that it’s you who’s picked him up is very evident. “We’ll go to the flat and hang there until she’s done.”

“Is there a place I can get something to eat?” His accent amuses you, but you keep a straight face.

You glance at Billie settled in the boot, before getting into the car. Zach sits, and you leave the airport.

“There’s a café next door?” You and Flo often pop into it to get coffee when neither of you can be bothered to make it.

He nods, “sounds good.”

When you get to the apartment, Zach lets Billie off her leash with your approval. She sniffs around, tail thumping against walls and cabinets and doors as she sweeps the place thoroughly. Zach, on the other hand, is very contained in the square metre of space he takes up, standing still. You remove your heels, shrinking a few inches, and Zach follows suit, sliding off his trainers and placing them neatly beside the door. The driver (whose name you didn’t catch) doesn’t ask where he should put the bags, instead using his initiative and scary knowledge of the floor plan to drop them in the guest room and slip out unnoticed.

Zach is unnerved by how used to staff you are. He won’t yet admit he’s intimidated, but the emotion is creeping up on him.

“So we’re sort of in the heart of Budapest, which is really good,” you begin, talking to him because you’ll have to eventually. Billie trots back to you having completed her independent tour. You pat her bum, and ask if Zach would like a tour. He says yes. You smile at him.

You take him round the rooms. It’s nothing special, really; two bedrooms, a bathroom and an en-suite, the living area. You like repeating ‘our bedroom’ to see him tense, and he likes how non-threatening the place is. He expected, when his ex-girlfriend insisted he stay with her, to be housed in your hotel in the basement somewhere.

After an excruciating few hours, Billie alerts you of Flo’s arrival, scratching at that door and barking loudly. Zach holds in the urge to down the beer he’s been nursing, and so do you. You found common ground in not wanting to talk to each other, instead staring at the football match on TV.

Flo’s too focused on Billie to notice how far apart you’re sitting, but when she does she laughs. Zach gets up to greet her, and to everyone’s surprise she pulls him into a hug. “Thank you for bringing my baby,” she says. “Did Y/n show you everything? Have you eaten?”

“Yeah, yeah, she did,” Zach replies. Flo looks surprised and very pleased. You’re slightly offended that she doubted your maturity that much.

“I thought we could eat at my hotel tonight,” you tell them. “We can bring Billie to the apartments and I’ll get one of the chefs to make something. It would save the hassle of going to get ingredients.”

It’s a power play. Your hotel.

Your girlfriend isn’t too ecstatic, but there’s a price to pay for the situation she has put you in and she knows that.

Before she can reply, Zach asks, “so are they actually your hotels?” And you smirk.

“They are. Hence why Billie can come. She could even get a spa treatment if I asked.”

“Don’t brag,” Flo warns, only half serious.

“I’m joking! I’d let Billie stay even if I wasn’t sleeping with her mum.” Billie sits at your feet to prove your point. Your phone rings, and you find yourself disappointed that this conversation has to end. “Shit, I can’t ignore this,” you apologise, excusing yourself and shutting the door to your bedroom behind you.

“Have you heard from Mummy?” your brother’s worried voice sounds out, uncharacteristically caring.

“No, why would I have—”

“Dad’s done it.” There are millions of things he could have done, but the tone narrows it down to two. He’s either gotten your stepmother pregnant or killed your mother. The former is the worst case scenario.

- - -

“I think he’s terrified of you.” Flo climbs into your bed, instinctively cuddling you when she feels your warmth. You’ve been answering emails for a while, letting her and Zach have a private conversation. Somehow, she thinks through bribery, Billie is adamant to sleep near you, meaning if you’re not in her bed neither is Billie. She can’t sleep without at least one of the things she loves most in the world.

“Mission successful,” you whisper, turning onto your side to face her. She frowns. “He’s nice. I don’t hate him.”

“You’re very mature,” she teases. “What was that super important call about? It didn’t seem very professional.”

God.

“Unnecessary family drama. I’m going to be an older sister.” Your girlfriend gasps, amused and shocked and every other emotion she can think of.

“Really?!” Billie raises her head at the noise.

“Shh,” you scold. “Yes, really. It’s awful news; the only baby I want in my life is my nephew.”

“Our nephew.”

“He likes me way more than he likes you!”

“Shh,” Flo copies. Billie growls half-heartedly, her collar jangling as she adjusts her position. “What has your stepmother said?” You laugh. As if she or your father were going to tell you until the thing popped out and in the crib. “Wait, so how did you find out…?”

“Mum’s gone astray because of the news, my brother called me asking if I knew where she was and had to provide me with some context.” He says he thought something was up at his gala, because he swears he never saw your stepmother drink a drop of alcohol. “I spoke to her when she finally picked up. She finds it hilarious, says she feels sorry for me for being related to her ‘goat of an ex-husband’.” Your mother has no intention of being near this baby. “I might swoop in and save the poor kid when it’s older, but I’m too busy for a baby that’s not my own.”

“What about Bella’s?”

“I’m not her go-to babysitter,” you dismiss quickly. “Our schedules are packed, Flossie. It’s a wonder we make time for each other.” Flo’s work is intense and short-term considering she isn’t on a series like Grey’s Anatomy, but yours is constant; a low hum that never leaves the background noise. You have the power to postpone to your heart’s content, but that catches up to you, so no matter how many times you tell them you’re following your girlfriend across the globe and can’t possibly be there in person, they capture you eventually. And when they do they’ll tie you down with something unbreakable, like a little sister whose favourite is you.

Flo feels selfish for forgetting your job. Surprisingly, it’s not the third member of your relationship down to the fact that you are one and the same with being CEO. You don’t usually tell her that you’ve left a meeting early to catch her before she sleeps in her time zone, or taken the day off to visit her on set, but sometimes she goes on your phone to change the song or take a picture and is hit full-force by your notifications. “You can go back to—”

“I own hotels, Flo. It’s not law, I’m not fixed in place.” You’ve never been like that. Holidays when you were little, boarding school, travelling, work; nothing was ever holding you down.

“What about our flat?”

“Your flat.”

“No, I want it to be ours,” she corrects your correction. “I want to set up a joint account just for bills, and I want you to pay some of them — an equal share. I want you to have a say on what bedding we have, or what colour our rug is, and for you to have your own pictures in our picture frames. And, one day, I want to lug everything out of the flat to a house we’ve bought to have those two babies in.”

“Preferably near family,” you add, playing along with her fantasy. “In Oxford, but if Toby’s moved somewhere snazzy then we’re following him. No way am I going to be the one with a boring address.”

“In Florence?”

You smirk. “I do love being in Florence.” She rolls her eyes and shuffles threateningly, as if she’ll turn over and face the wall instead of your beautiful, beautiful face. “You walked right into that one,” you defend, giggling. “This dream might take a while to materialise, Floss. I can’t give you most of it.”

“Y/n, I thought I was going to marry Zach.” The sudden change of tone draws your eyes right to hers, showing her you’re listening. “I loved him.” Her face begins to flush. A tear falls onto the pillow, colouring the sheets a darker shade of itself. “I… I was so angry at myself for ruining everything, because, you know, I thought he was it for me. And then,” she laughs, “and then you were at Toby’s stupid after party. No one had fucking told me you’d be there, but Mum knew Zach and I were fighting. They all knew.” You were there and she had said she wasn’t sure if she was single. “Zach had told me he couldn’t do it anymore. He’d spat it like it was sour milk in his mouth, like the thought of being near me was so despicable, so disgusting that he couldn’t bear it. But when you left the next day, I called him and I… I agreed. We talked it over, decided we wanted it quiet and private and, obviously, we talked about Billie.

“I had a dream that Zach and I would have a big wedding with all of our friends, and that the press would fawn over every detail. I had a dream that I’d marry him and it would be like marrying Leonardo DiCaprio. Y/n, I don’t care if you think you can’t have anything nice for yourself and have it be permanent at the same time. I’ve changed my dream before, okay? And if you… If you can’t give me all of it, I’ll change my dream again. This,” she brings her hand up between the two of you, “is enough for me.” You offer her a fleeting smile, and then your expression changes. Her brows furrow, and she mutters, “don’t.”

“I’m not going to—”

“Don’t propose.” You so were. “You can’t do it again, I mean, that much rejection can’t be good for the soul.”

“No, it’s not,” you gripe, teasing her. “Women throw themselves at me but you won’t say yes.” She wipes the rest of the tears that pooled during her monologue.

“I did say yes.”

You shake your head. “You said, essentially, ‘in a bit’.” It’s not the same. You pause. The apartment is quiet; Zach must be asleep, Billie’s snoring is muffled by her nose buried in the blanket you used to keep her warm. “Do you want to have—” Billie whines in her sleep, waking up. She stands, back arching, until she eventually leaps off the bed with a soft thud. The dog settles in the dog bed you bought earlier, yawning with a high-pitched howl before grunting and falling back asleep. “Hey, Billie’s basically just given us her blessing.”

Flo chuckles, her displeased frown not staying for long, replaced by a smile as you crawl on top of her. “Once. And quietly.” Her instruction goes right over your head as you brush your lips against her neck. It’s a startled noise, the one that she lets out, but you raise your eyebrows all the same. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

She’s about to disagree, but you lean down to kiss her before she can. Billie pretends not to hear her mum and this strange new woman (whom she actually likes very much, to Zach’s disappointment and Flo’s surprise), and Zach decides not to ask what you were doing in the morning.

His ephemeral visit comes and goes, and soon you are attempting to soothe your girlfriend as she frets about her impending movie premiere, for while she’s unbothered to the public, she’s quite worried in front of you.

Flo doesn’t care to recognise that the movie is what has her on edge, instead focusing on the small triggers of each burst of anger or sadness or any other emotion really. Three hours before her flight, she is leaning over her suitcase, wheezing, in the midst of an increasingly common panic attack. If Billie were here, she’d immediately alert you of your girlfriend’s state, but both Billie and you are strolling around the local park on a dog walk (though neither of you are walking; you’re on an important call with an investor, and Billie is chasing ducks). Seeing as she is very alone at the moment, she has no choice but to resort to deep breaths and get on with her last minute packing.

You come home to the apartment being overturned: Flo is trying to find her favourite pair of sunglasses. She won’t need them, you assume, because her stylist will have meticulously chosen each and every accessory, but you say nothing more than a tip-off that they might be on the dresser.

“Do you think I haven’t looked there?” she snaps, and Billie thinks she’s just been barked at and begins to respond. You stand still, taken aback. Flo would like to apologise, but you’ve walked away before she can, leaving her just as confused as you were moments before.

Not a second later, you return to your girlfriend, holding the sunglasses out to her. “I think you should get some alcohol in you.” It’s not responsible advice at all, but it’s good. She needs to hear honesty, not kind words or reassurance that everything will be fine. It probably won’t be fine, and there’s nothing you can really do about that.

You never fail to stun her, Flo thinks, blinking at your command dressed in an opinion’s clothes. “We have beer left over from when Zach was here.” She begins to make her way to the fridge, but you stop her with two hands on her arms. “Got something else in mind?”

“Want a shot of tequila? Sit.” Flo laughs. You’re such a bad influence. A couple of months ago, she wouldn’t believe her childhood idol would be getting her drunk instead of asking her to talk her feelings out, nor would she believe that said idol confessed to spiking board members’ coffees with rum at big board meetings. In your defence, how else is work supposed to be fun?

As instructed, Flo takes a seat at the dining table, absently running her hand up and down Billie’s back as the dog waits for scraps of food. You’ve got to hand it to Billie, she does have Flo wrapped around her paw.

“Two shots of tequila coming right up.” You grin as you set them down on the table, forgoing the use of the mandatory coaster just this once. Flo raises the shot glass to toast, then wonders why you’re not doing the same. “Both are yours, I’m working.” She smiles, toasts to you and Billie, and knocks back both shots with ease. It would have been an insult to set out salt and a wedge of lime for her.

“What have you got planned while I’m suffering in Venice?” Flo asks once you’ve taken the shot glasses back to the kitchen and put the bottle of tequila away.

You shrug and look at Billie. “We’re probably going to sit in the park again tomorrow. My friends asked if I’d like to join them on their holiday, but I don’t think Billie would appreciate being on a yacht for three days.”

“I’m sorry that I’m making you babysit.” You don’t mind dogs. You had two cocker spaniels growing up, and, of course, your mum has Rupert. “You’re the best step-mum a dog could ask for. Even if you convinced me to have sex while the dog was present.”

“Billie was asleep,” you defend, fighting to keep the (little) dignity you have left. Dogs don’t care, surely. “You’re hardly gone for long. Not much will change. Maybe you’ll sleep on the sofa because Billie’s taken your spot, but that’s all I can think of.” Flo scoffs and says you need to let that go. “I shall take no other to my bed aside from Billie and you.”

“Unless Hailee Steinfeld pops round. I give you permission to finish what you started centuries ago.”

“I’m not that old!” You think about what she’s said. “And you’ve just reminded me to text her about who I’m dating.”

Flo raises her eyebrows. “Who are you dating?”

“This really, really annoying sister of a friend.” She grabs your t-shirt and pulls you into her, ignoring your groan about stretching the fabric. “I never thought I’d like her, but I made a bad decision after too many drinks and slept with her in her childhood bed.”

Her lips taste of tequila, but they’re comfortingly soft (how are they soft, she complains they’re chapped all the time?!) and you’ve got to hand it to her that she’s good at kissing. “Bad decision, huh?”

You shrug, “bad decision that led to many very satisfactory orgasms.”

“You’re so lucky I love you, because I’m sure all eight million of my fans would jump at the chance to date this bad decision.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“I fucking will!”

While you laugh at the determination in her voice, she finally notices the buzzing of her phone. There have been a lot of texts she’s missed for your short-lived bartender career, stuff like flight details and the fact that there’s a car waiting outside for her this very minute.

Knowing her well, you recognise the regretful smile. “I’ve got another call in half an hour. I’m sorry I can’t see you off.” Flo nods, she understands. “Bye, Flossie.”

“See you later,” she replies, because she will, won’t she? It’s two nights at most. “I’ll be sure to send you lots of pictures, and it’s not like the family group chat will be quiet.” The family group chat has most of the Pughs you can think of, you, and Scarlett. “I packed Raffie’s present from you, so don’t worry about it, and there’s lots of food in the fridge so you’re not going to starve. I turned the place into ready-meal central for you.”

“You stress-cooked,” you state.

“Doesn’t matter. You know how to feed Billie, and she’ll be—”

“I know, I love you, get your bum to Venice.”

- - -

Billie grunts when your phone buzzes in the late afternoon.

It has finally stopped being used seeing as you’ve crept onto the sofa and are half-watching reruns of Friends, but you wonder whose contact has surpassed your Do Not Disturb.

“It’s probably Mama,” you tell your girlfriend’s dog, questioning your life decisions when you hear your own tone and phrasing.

Reni: Date cancelled and now I have a spare ticket for tonight’s opera. Best seats in the house. Come?

Well, that can’t be good.

Irén (you desperately need to change her name in your phone) is your ex-girlfriend. Things crashed and burnt, but you were twenty-one; young and stupid. You’re both so much more mature than you were then.

Billie tilts her head to the side, puzzled as to why you suddenly reek of fear.

You: Be prepared for how sexy I will look.

She’s still a friend, she has to be. A year together shouldn’t be worth throwing away memories with a girl you’ve known since you were eleven. Boarding school is supposed to make friends for life, not exes who hold grudges.

“I’m not trying to convince myself of anything,” you respond to Billie’s silent criticism. “The opera is fun, I have nothing to do, and she’ll have spent hundreds on the tickets knowing what she’s like.” Her father owns an oil company. Like you, she attended your school because it was known to house heiresses like the London underground houses rats, and, like you, she will one day fully inherit the family business. Though she’s never had to compete with a sibling for that.

Reni: Come to mine in two hours. Chef is here, I shall dine you privately where you will not be papped.

So she knows about Flo. That’s good. That means she’s not allowed to wine and dine you properly, nor turn on her almost irresistible charm and convince you to sleep with her. Which you wouldn’t do. Because you love Flo.

Reni: Can’t wait to see if you’ve aged nicely.

She’s funny. Irén has always been funny.

“Bills, you’ll be fine here on your own?” You ask her as if she can respond. “Flo would be okay with that,” you state, unsure but assuming she would be.

You proceed to walk Billie for half an hour, spend another hour getting ready, and the remaining time in a car to her flat in the heart of Old Town. It’s small and cramped, but Irén likes it that way.

She greets you with a hug, to your surprise, but when she pulls away it becomes clear that she didn’t expect herself to do that. You hold up the bottle of champagne you decided to bring her, and she grins. “You haven’t changed,” says Irén, with a glint in her eye.

It isn’t long before you take in the details of her apartment. It’s messy and unorganised, with cupboards that groan at the chaos inside of them and side tables stacked with Vogues. Every month, Irén gets all of them —from every corner of the world, you’re not joking — and she has always sprawled out on the floor to thumb through the pages. Ever since you were eleven.

“Neither have you,” you reply, sitting down on her velvet sofa. The apartment looks shoddy, but the furniture is ornately carved or stitched, not matching each other but never clashing. “Antique sales?” She nods. “You’re a collector.” It’s not thrown out as an insult, but she jokingly takes it as one.

“I’m going to go into fashion, finally,” Irén squeaks. “He’s fucking let me! I told him I’d sell the oil for a penny and run away if he made me be… Sorry, Y/n. Hotels are cooler. It’s different.”

“I had a choice, you didn’t.” Your consolation is received curiously. “I like where I am in my life, Irén.”

You like that you have a girlfriend, and a best friend, and a job. What more could a person ask for?

“Bleh,” Irén says loudly, above the buzzing of a light that is in need of fixing. “Irén is so formal, babe. You never used to call me Irén.”

“Ten years ago.”

“Things change, but you can still call me Reni.” She’s being nice. “Baby, you can’t be so uptight.”

“No, no, no, I’m not uptight. Flo left for Venice today, and I’ve been swamped with work. Drinks?” Irén nods with a smile, and you expertly open the bottle. She sets down two crystal champagne flutes. “What time are we going? I’ve left the dog alone.”

“There is no way you have a fucking dog,” she snorts. Before you dated, you lived together, sharing a house with a few other girls at university. Irén spearheaded the movement for a dog, but you, the one paying the most rent (they all went to your school, you all knew whose parents were paying and whose weren’t), vetoed her motion every time they so much as tried to bring it up.

You like dogs. You don’t want one.

“Flo’s dog.”

“Ah, I see.” What does that mean? “You really love her enough to house her dog?”

It isn’t possible for her to miss the way your eyes shine. “She’s… incredible,” you answer, “and I think it’s worth it. The dog’s not too bad.”

Irén pauses, trying the champagne in her glass. “We leave in an hour. I’d drive us but…” She finishes her drink and you smile proudly, glad that she likes your choice. “Let’s just get a taxi. Keep your driver posted because there are unlimited drinks from the bar, and I don’t like throwing up in taxis.” You shudder at the memory of too-many-shots Irén in a black cab, keeling over and ruining your shoes.

After a bit of a catch up, she excuses herself to finish getting ready, claiming she has to now match your level of attractiveness, if not beat it. You smirk at her before she leaves, and when she’s gone you settle on her sofa to read the hundred-and-one messages from the Pughs’ group chat.

It mostly consists of Raffie asking where they all are, and Flo sending little videos of her getting ready.

Privately, she sends you a video of her dress. A first look. A secret one, just for you.

You tell her that she should wear ball gowns more. And that you are really skilled at taking them off. And a few other borderline dirty sentences. Your texts eventually cease, and she responds only with a picture of her on a boat. Her looking divine on a boat. Never have you wanted to be a boat before.

“It’s beyond me how Flossie is her.” Irén makes you jump, almost so that your phone clatters onto the floor, but it lands on a pile of August Vogues which cushion the fall. “How is Toby taking it?”

“Better than expected.” Much better.

You’re proud of him.

- - -

The opera is almost too casual when you get there, but someone guides both you and Irén to a cordoned off area that is clearly something to do with the amount Irén paid for the tickets. You haven’t yet asked about the date that cancelled, but if she wants to talk she will.

You sit in your seats while the house lights are still on, enjoying the view of everybody filtering in. “This reminds me of when we’d sit on the main stairs and watch people run to their lessons,” Irén says quietly, not disturbing the tranquility of being lost in a sea of other people. You wonder what they’re talking about.

“I missed you,” you confess. “We need to do this more.” A waiter clears his throat and hands you the glass of prosecco you requested earlier. Flo said she was having the same one, you thought it would be nice to drink somewhat together in celebration of her getting through Venice.

“It’s hard to track you down, you know. I was tapping through fucking DeuxMoi and you popped up. You little celebrity.”

“They scrolled to the bottom of my instagram, what can I say.” She chuckles. She’s in a lot of those posts. “Why aren’t you staying with your parents?”

“Why weren’t you at your father’s wedding?” You were inconspicuous. No one should have noticed. “We all have family problems, baby, but why should we dwell?”

“No, I’m not dwelling, I—” but before you can finish, the lights leave you in darkness and applause ripples through the building.

Irén leans her head on your shoulder. “You were right. We should do this more.”

She takes your hand in hers, and keeps it like that until the interval, only letting go to use the bathroom and then order some more drinks. Irén knows you well, so she orders some salted pretzels too, which are promptly delivered by a waiter who eyes the two of you suspiciously. The staff have been weary of your private booth.

When it finally finishes, you find that you’re almost asleep in her lap. She giggles quietly, not wanting to attract attention now that everybody can see you. “Are you going to use me as your bed while your girlfriend’s away?” You let out a drowsy groan, not quite hearing her as your head is nestled into the jumper she took off half an hour in. A hand cups your cheek, turns it so that you’re looking up at her. She lowers her head, lips hovering above yours, and you’re certain she isn’t going to do it. There’s no way. She’s your friend, and she knows it didn’t work out, and she knows you don’t want her. Irén isn’t stupid, but Irén is kissing you.

In front of lots of people.

You shake your head and tell her to stop. “Reni, we’re not… We don’t…”

“I regret making you choose. They’re your family, in a way, aren’t they? Flossie must be like a younger sister.”

tags: @pewpughpew @ridleypugh @jeyramarie @flosbelova @kassies-take @delfiore @yelenabelovasbxtch @sophie-xox @slut4milfs69 @sunshadesnrainbowz

#florence pugh fanfiction #florence pugh x reader #florence pugh #floss got hot #florence pugh x you #florence pugh one shot #black widow #fanfiction #florence pugh imagine #marvel #mcu #florence pugh x y/n #florence pugh fluff #florence pugh smut #florence pugh angst

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eddiebun · 2 years ago

Note

I think Eddie would be really good at helping an anxious reader when fireworks are going off. Sit inside with them, holding their head against his chest to listen to their heart and covering the other ear with his hands, or maybe playing guitar loud enough that you can’t hear the explosions (it’s me I dislike fireworks)

he would !! i’m not personally scared of fireworks but i hate them, they’re dumb and i understand why they’re so scary, it’s just so loud, they spook my dogs too so grrr

fluff, just tooth-rooting fluff, reader is anxious, reader fits into eddie's shirt

you had been dreading it for a couple days now, those big extravagant flickers of colourful light in the air that would fizzle into smoke and the constant bang bang pop— fireworks.

who invented fireworks? eddie would personally like to know because he had quite the bone to pick with them when he found out you, his partner, were scared of those obnoxious loud displays of celebration that would happen this weekend.

“can i stay with you on the weekend? the fireworks are so loud near my house, maybe it’s not too bad at your place..”

he didn’t tell you but before you came over for the weekend he had bought brand new blankets, some of your favourite snacks and even a sweet little stuffed bunny that reminded you of him, he even covered it with his favourite shirt so it smelt like him, he knew you’d appreciate that.

“hi angel.” you heard his sweet coo open opening the trailer door, stepping up and your arms clinging around his chest already, “oh sweetheart..” he frowned, feeling how tense you were.

“c’mon, you won’t even think about em’” he tugged you inside gently by the palm of your hand and swiftly into his bedroom, you noticed much to your surprise— he had tidied up and a bundle of blankets were lying atop of the bed, and alongside the comforting fabric you saw the teddy with his favorite shirt, and even your favorite snacks surrounding the plushie.

“e-eddie..” you blabbered out, feeling your eyes glass over at the sweet gesture he had taken the time to do for you, "that's so nice i—" your bottom lip quivered, feeling his arms envelope around you and squeeze tightly, plush lips pressing a comforting kiss to the top of your head.

"so, i got your favorite cassettes all laid out, two headphones or we could watch a movie, either way, i'm gonna be snuggling you all night." his mouth creased into that charming smile of his, feeling yourself getting a little dazed from his velvety chocolate eyes, his delicate features letting you unwind any strain on your muscles and anxiety bubbling in your mind, eddie munson was the prettiest man you'd ever laid your eyes on.

"y/n? lost you there a little." he chortled, hands squeezing either side of your arms and you laughed quietly, leaning up and pressing an endearing kiss to his lips.

"thank you, for everything." you pulled away from his lips and nestled your head snug against his chest, hands dipping under his shirt and relishing in the warmth emitting from him.

"it's nothing." he grinned, pretty proud of himself if he did admit.

you felt him squeeze your hips before you were tugged over to his bed, sitting at the edge, "arms up." he cooed and you did as you were told, letting him tug off your shirt to change it with his, kicking off your pants and curling up, smelling him on the piece of fabric.

eddie sighed contently, taking a hold of the cassette with the two flimsy headphones attached by a long black wire, gently placing one set over your ears after making sure you were comfortable, placing soft kisses on your neck.

he pressed play and set his headphones on too before snuggling up behind you, large, warm hands stroking over your tummy and sides and you let yourself go limp, muscles relaxing and soft breathing matching his as the first song he picked out played in your ears.

you shifted around a little, giggling when you almost got tangled in the headphone wires, careful hands coming up to cup your cheeks and soft kisses being trailed from the top of your head down to your lips.

you barely even heard the fireworks start, so very much in your own little world that the little pops and crackles were dull and empty compared to your favorite track in your ears and the love of your life right in front of you, looking as gorgeous as ever.

i love you, he mouthed, followed by a grin overtaking his face, and your nose scrunched at his cute little expression, mouthing back an i love you too, before your head settled at his chest, rising and falling with each breath escaping and inhaling into his lungs.

you were safe, so very safe.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things fluff

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holylulusworld · 3 years ago

Text

What mothers do (1)

Summary: Your old life comes for you…

Pairing: Mobster!Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Characters: Sam Winchester, OFC Robert Alexander, unnamed teacher

Warnings: angst, language, Dean being an ass, mentions of break-up, mentions of cheating, almost violence (a slap), scared reader, tears, mafia business, arguments, fluff

Words: 2,4 k

A/N: This is my entry to @cockslut-padalecki‘s A decade under the influence writing challenge with the lyric #36: “I lived through the damage from the heart you took from me” - Line In The Sand: Bleeding Through.

Divider by @firefly-graphics

What mothers do masterlist

That night he not only broke your heart but also turned the love you felt for him into hatred. Everything you planned turned to ashes and got carried away by the wind he sowed the moment he decided to push you out of his life.

Your heart broke, shattered on the ground when you ran out of your shared bedroom, the images of your man with another woman burned into your mind.

It’s been five years since Dean Winchester took his love away from you and turned his attention toward someone else. Someone better if you want to believe the rumors.

It was hard to move on. Well, how do you move on from the love of your love after he told you to get lost and never come back?

Is there a trick to get over your childhood sweetheart? I don’t think so…

People tend to talk about broken hearts and lost love, but they never tell you that you can still live without a functional heart beating in your chest.

You get up. Eat. Go to work. Breathe. Cry a little. Curl into a ball. Go to sleep.

Repeat.

You had to move on, so you did. If not for you, but the growing life in your belly. Cause, that’s what mothers do – right? Put their child first, ignoring the rest.

“Mommy?” your son cries, running toward you, showing you his bleeding knee. “Mommy, I fell!”

“Aw, baby boy,” you coo, falling back into your role. It’s easier to pretend your heart isn’t still broken when you can take care of your son. “Let’s go to the bathroom, shall we?”

“YEAH! Can we watch cartoons later?” he asks, glancing up at you. He’s a child, but somehow your son knows today is a bad day for you. “Mommy, are you sad?

“No, baby boy,” you lie easily; pretend you didn’t think of his father, the man who doesn’t know his son exists. “I’m just a little bit tired.”

You tickles his sides and Bobby beings to laugh, squeal and you can’t help it and join his laughter. “Mommy, I love you!”

“I love you too, baby. Now let’s go to the bathroom and mommy will help you, okay,” your son nods eagerly, knowing you will put a Scooby-Doo plaster onto his knee and kiss it better.

Whilst you climb up the stairs to the bathroom, you ignore the aching in your chest. Today would be your tenth anniversary, if not for Dean’s infidelity.

“Mommy, I saw a cool car today. My friend said it’s a classic car,” your son excitedly tells you about his day. From the new toy, his friend got for his birthday to the new girl at his class in the kindergarten. “It was black and loud.”

“Old cars can be loud,” you laugh when your son tells you he wants to drive a cool car one day too. “We will talk about driving cars when you turn sixteen, young man.”

“But I want a cool car, mommy. I can drive you around and we can go for ice cream,” he grins while trying to convince you to buy him a car at the age of five.

“No cars for you, Robert Alexander,” using your mommy voice you smirk at your son. “Now let’s clean your knee and we can watch more Scooby-Doo. It’s Friday and we have all weekend to catch up with your favorite dog.”

You carefully place your son on the closed toilet lid to inspect his bleeding knee.

“Mommy, I know you forbid me to talk to strangers, but the man with the cool car wanted to know my name,” your heart beats a mile in a minute, your mouth runs dry and your hands begin to tremble.

“Baby boy, what did you do?” voice cracking you look up at your son. “Bobby bear, what did you do?”

“I ran, and told my teacher that the man talked to me,” he says, proudly puffing his chest. “He had a cool car, but he’s a stranger.”

“What did the man do?” you question while carefully cleaning your son’s knee. “Did the man follow you or ask you about your name again?”

“No,” shaking his head your son smirks. “I bet he got scared and ran away. He was tall, but I’m braver.”

“You did well,” you decided there and then to call the kindergarten first thing on Monday morning. They promised you a safe place and that no one can enter the area but the teachers and parents. No entry without a key card, that’s what they said. “I’m proud of you, Bobby.”

“I remembered what you said about people I do not know, mommy,” Bobby watches you put a plaster onto his knee before you press a soft kiss to it.

“All done, baby. So, how about you sit on the sofa, and I’ll make us popcorn,” you ask. “Do you want sweet or salty popcorn?”

“Sweet,” Bobby hops off the toilet lit, his bloody knee-long forgotten. “I’ll switch the TV on mommy.”

“Thank you, sweet—” you bite your tongue, shuddering at the pet name. 'Fuck, no you won’t sneak your way into my thoughts tonight.’

“Popcorn, Scooby-Doo, and apple spritzer,” you laugh when your son sleepily rests his head on your lap.

“Mommy, will you stroke my hair?” he asks, and your heart melts.

He reminds you of Dean so much it hurts your heart. And it pains you that the man you used to love will never know what he lost the day he turned his back on you.

“Of course, baby. How about you tell me more about your day and the toys Jaiden got for a birthday,” you gently run your hand over his head, listening to your son’s explanation.

“Mommy, why does my dad never call me? Jaiden said his daddy always calls him for a birthday or comes to visit him,” Bobby sniffs and your heart breaks for your little son. “Does he not want to see me?”

“No, Bobby. Your dad and I didn’t like each other anymore. That was before you were born, baby. We are living in different worlds now, and your dad is always busy,” it’s only half a lie. “Maybe he will be less busy one day and call.”

“OH-okay,” Bobby believes your lie, but he still dreams of the day his father calls when he slowly drifts into sleep.

“I don’t understand! You told me no one can enter the kindergarten but parents and teachers. Now a stranger talked to my son on your watch,” panting heavily you glare at the woman who tried to calm you.

“Ms. Y/L/N, the man said he’s Bobby’s father. We didn’t know you are divorced. You never told us about your son’s father,” she argues, not wanting to give away the stranger paid her well to get close to your son.

“My relationship status is none of your fucking business,” you step into her personal space, try to intimidate the woman just like Dean taught you years ago. “It was your job to keep my son safe, just like the other kids. We pay you a lot to do so.”

“He—he,” she stammers, looking over your shoulder into familiar green eyes. “He said you wouldn’t understand he’s back. Maybe you can talk to him yourself and keep me out of your fight?”

Your body goes stiff. It’s like you can feel his presence before you hear his voice. A dark cloud and his warmth envelop you at the same time when he touches your shoulder.

You flinch away, not turning around to face the man threatening your happiness once again. “No—” is all you say before you grab your bag. “My son will not come back here.”

“Sweetheart don’t do this,” he smiles, but his eyes tell you to not disobey the dangerous man he became. “Let’s talk about a few things. Like the fact that I am a father for five years!”

“You are nothing, that’s what you are to me and my son,” you slam the door in his face, and start to run toward your car. Your only way out is to grab a few things, your son, and run for the hills.

You can never let Dean Winchester be part of your life again…never…

“Bobby, hurry up,” you run upstairs to grab more things. Dean being in your town can only mean one thing, he’s looking for an heir, and you will be damned to let him repeat history.

“Where are we going? What about kindergarten tomorrow?” your son asks. “Mommy? Bobby seems to be confused about your sudden departure. “Mom?”

“We are going to—” honestly, you don’t have a plan. You never thought Dean would look for you. It was him chasing you away. Why would he come for you after five years. “I thought it would be fun to go on vacation for a week.”

“Vacation?” Bobby jumps up and down. You haven’t been on vacation since Christmas and the little boy can’t wait to see new places. “Why now, mommy?”

“I just—” you run back downstairs; think of anything you will need to start a new life somewhere else.

“Mommy, there’s someone at the door,” your son calls for you while you look around the kitchen for his favorite mug. “Shall I open the door?”

“No,” you stumble out of the kitchen, Bobby’s mug pressed to your chest. The person outside your door becomes impatient, knocks a little louder this time. “Bobby, go to your room and look for your favorite plushie and pillow. We will need to leave soon.”

“Okay, mommy,” Bobby walks upstairs whilst you try to tame your racing heart.

“Open the door, Y/N,” your hands begin to tremble as you step toward the door. Only the door parts you from your past and it scares the hell out of you to open it. “Sweetheart, I can break the door if I must.”

“Just leave us alone,” you press your forehead against the door, silently praying Dean will just leave. “You wanted me gone, Dean. Why do you come here after five years?”

“OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR Y/N,” he rams his fist into the door, calling your name. “Now.”

“Stop being so loud,” whispering the words you unlock your door. “You will scare Bobby.”

“Then let me inside,” Dean pushes against the door, forces his way into your house, the home you created for you and your son. “See, that wasn’t so hard.”

“Not so hard?” you huff, clearly frustrated. “You come here and demand entry to my house, my life, my son. Do you have the slightest idea what hard means?”

“Look at you,” he says, eyes drinking you in after five years. “As beautiful as ever.”

Dean’s closeness makes you dizzy. You can smell his cologne, his eyes and smile seem to taunt you and the worst is, it feels too familiar for you to ignore when he steps closer again to cup your cheek.

“Hands off,” at least you find the strength to push his hand away. “Never touch me again. I don’t know what you came for, but you won’t find it here.”

“I came for you, and my son,” he huffs when you flinch away. “I must admit, you are hard to find. It took me five fucking years to find my family, sweetheart.

“You are delusional,” you shake your head, stepping backward as Dean shrugs his coat off. “Get out of my house, Winchester.”

“I never wanted to hurt you, sweetheart," Dean takes a step toward you, “I know it was a mistake to sleep with her. I was mad at my father, got drunk and then…it just happened.”

“One mistake, huh?” you say, voice bitter. “Maybe I could’ve forgiven you one drunken mistake but you—” jabbing your finger into his chest you glare up at Dean, “told me to leave our home and never come back when I tried to talk to you. You fucked that skank in our bed and dared to blame me.”

“You seemed to do just fine without me,” he looks around your living room, admiring you built a home for you and your son. “I guess you didn’t miss me at all.”

“Don’t you dare!” he never sees the hand slapping his face coming. “I lived through the damage from the heart you took from me. It’s still gone, and I miss it every day but, I had to be strong for my baby.”

“So, you moved on from me without shedding a tear,” Dean asks, looking at the pictures on the walls. “Is there a new love of your life? Do you feed him the same lies?”

“As a mother, you can't wallow in pain when the man you believed loves you breaks your heart,” you are just done explaining yourself, so you decide to put Dean in his place. “You break down, get back up, and take care of your baby boy, 'cause that's what mothers do," you quip, straightening your back. “Now get the fuck out of my house, my life, and never dare to even think about coming back. If you do, all your dirty little secrets will get revealed.”

“This isn’t over, Y/N,” Dean is unsure how to react to your behavior. He only remembered the shy and devoted girl you used to be, not the self-confident and fiery woman you became. “Damn me, you have changed…and I like it.”

“Like it all you want, but don’t come back,” he gives in, for now. Dean turns to leave, not without glancing at the pictures of his son one last time.

“I must say when I came here to check if you need help, I never imagined you would do so well,” Dean smirks when you make a face. “I will come back for you and my son, sweetheart.”

“Save it,” you growl, crossing your arms over your chest. “Now get lost, Winchester…”

“We found her. What now, Dean?” his younger brother glances at your house while Dean starts the engine of the Impala. “Dean, did you tell her what happened back then?”

“Not yet,” Dean smirks, chuckling lightly. “She got a wild side now, and I’d love to tame her.”

“You should tell her why you chased her away,” Sam says, “If you want to get to know your son, you need to tell her someone spread lies about her.”

“Soon, Sammy. Soon…”

>> Part 2

Tags in reblog.

#What mothers do #decadeundertheinfluencechallenge #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #mobster!dean x reader #MOBSTER!AU #mobster!dean x you #mobster!dean winchester x reader #mobster!dean

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angstysebfan · 3 years ago

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The Past Can Break You - 9

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

AU: Avengers

Summary: You and Bucky have been dating for aa few years. As far as you’re concerned he is the one. But what happens when a blast from the actual past shows up?

A/N: Ive seen a lot stories of Bucky getting his first love from the 40′s back. And I’ve always wondered... what would happen if he was dating someone already? Reader is from this time. Not proofread.

Warning: cursing

Third Person POV

The party is in full swing at the compound. Tony took out all the stops. Claimed it was to celebrate Natasha’s birthday, though her birthday wasn’t for another month. Most people didn’t mind since they loved to dress up and get shit-faced.

Dot held onto Bucky’s hand as he walked around the large room. She was both nervous and excited for this party. She hoped that this was only the beginning for her and Bucky. She also hoped that this would finally get Bucky to make a move other than hugs and hand holding.

She couldn’t understand why he was dragging his feet. You have been gone for a month and Bucky seems to have gotten over it, at least she thinks he has, but he still won’t even kiss her. What happened to this man that he lost his charm from the 40′s? It was driving her crazy, especially since she put in so much work to finally get him. She decided that tonight, she doesn’t care if she has to drug him, he will be hers.

The couple walks up to Steve, Tony, Sam, and Nat, who are all in conversation. “Hey guys, you remember Dot,” Bucky says to the group.

They all nod and give her a small smile, except Natasha. Dot was honestly terrified of the woman. First of all she was gorgeous, which annoyed Dot because she was used to being the most beautiful. But what scared her the most is when Bucky told her she was a previous spy. She has killed people, and she was really good at reading people. Dot couldn’t help but wonder if Nat had caught on to what she did to you.

“Jamie, can you come dance with me?” Dot asked.

Bucky looked at her and saw her giving puppy dog eyes. He had to fight everything in him to not roll his own eyes. He cleared his throat, “Uh, sure Doll. Steve, Nat, why don’t you join us?” Bucky asked with pleading eyes.

Nat did roll hers but grabbed Steve’s hand and walked out to the floor. The music changed to a slow ballad and Dot wrapped her arms around Bucky’s neck. “I saw a video that people dance like this now. Especially when they are dating,” she says.

Bucky furrows his brows, “Uh, I haven’t asked you out yet,” he said.

He heard Nat clear her throat and stuttered, “Though I will soon, Doll. I just needed some time.”

Dot scoffed, “Come on Bucky. It’s been like a month, I think it’s time for you to move on. She is gone, and honestly good riddance. She wasn’t very good for you, ya know. She was way too jealous and couldn’t handle that your past with me. It was honestly pathetic,” she said.

Bucky tensed at Dot’s words, ready to ream into her when there was a loud explosion the caused everyone on the dance floor to fall to the ground. Bucky sat up when the dust settled and looked around. He saw several soldiers standing, armed. In front of them were 2 people, John Walker and... you armed with guns and 2 swords attached to your back (your specialty).

You look around the room filled with frightened people and scoff, “What’s the matter? Never saw anyone crash a party before?” you shout to the crowd.

Natasha stepped up, “Y/N, what are you doing? Why are you with Walker?” she asked.

You looked at Nat with a smirk, “Well, after the man I loved cheated on me with his blast from the past, I decided that there might have been a reason. I looked back on my life and found that no good deed truly goes unpunished. So fuck good deeds!” you shout.

You look at Bucky you is staring at you in disbelief, “Hello Buck. I would ask if you missed me, but I saw you dancing with your slut and figured, nah,” you sneered.

“Y/N, please. Let’s talk this through. Whatever you thought happened did-”

“Do you honestly think I will believe a fucking word you say Barnes? I’ll answer that, nope! But don’t worry. I have a new man now. One that appreciates me completely and doesn’t screw around with ex’s. You’ve met John, right?” you ask pointing to John behind you.

John walks up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, kissing your neck. Bucky tenses, wanting to pull John away from you. You however ignore your him and look around the room until you see her. Cowering on the floor. You walk slowly over and squat in front of her, enjoying her shaking in front of you, “Hello Dolores,” you say.

Before she can respond to get away, you grab her by the hair and pull her out in front of everyone.

“Oh Dot, isn’t this what you wanted? Everyone to know who you are and who fuck? That’s right people, this woman here,” you say pointing to Dot, “fucked this man here, while he was dating me,” you said laughing.

“I-I...I didn’t. I swear... I didn’t” Dot said shaking.

You glared at her, “Oh Dotty, come on, Doll. We both know what I heard,” you said.

Natasha stepped up again, “Y/N, what the hell are you doing! We had a plan! Why are you doing this?” she yelled frustrated.

You looked from her to Bucky, who looked distraught.

“Eh, I didn’t want to wait for your plan. So I came up with my own plan. Which reminds me, Johnny... where is that book?” you ask sweetly to John.

John gulps and walks up to you to hand you a book. You show the team who’s eyes widen. You look directly at Bucky, “Oh baby, I was wondering if the Winter Soldier would like to play,” you say shaking the red book with the black star.

Bucky froze in fear. His heart is completely broken. You, his love, the woman he would kill for, is wanting to turn him into the monster.

Chapter 8 / Chapter 10

Oh man. Things are going to get exciting! And yes in this case John Walker is just a bad guy, never tried to be Cap or anything for the sake of this story, but everyone still hates him. Feedback is appreciated.

Permanent Taglist: @hailmary-yramliah @tuiccim @comedictragedy @cap-n-stuff @thefridgeismybestie @swiftmind @aleaisntcreative @lookiamtrying @pinknerdpanda @morganclaire4 @iamvalentinaconstanza @verygraphicink @im-squished @joannie95 @peace-love-hobbitness @connie326 @amandamdiehl @harrysthiccthighss @its-izzys @roserose26 @rebekahdawkins @elegantobservationstudentsblog @broco8 @shinykoalacat @white-wolf1940 @jessyballet

Story Taglist: @afuckingshituniverse @wintrfld @cherries-and-berries @ilovemarvelanne1 @lilli2411 @minty-fiction @peakywitch @blue-mostacho @r0bbieshapiro @uncreativezx @sarahjoestewy-blog @geekanista @imtaashu @vicmc624 @browneyedgirl365 @happinessinthebeing @leyannrae @austynparksandpizza @aliloz-3 @starkleila @440mxs-wife @miniaturestudentspyhound @inhumanwithpowers

PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF I FORGOT YOU

#bucky #Bucky Barnes #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james barnes #Bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky x dot

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cassirino · 4 years ago

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Prompt : s/o is the ultimate! Singer, however they don't sing often as they're self conscious about how they sound, but their partner hears them sing.

(I'm new to writing hc/ficlets for dr so I'm so sorry if they're ooc at all 🥺)

Kokichi :

• deadass requests you sing careless whisper to him sooo many times as a joke but when you go "ight bet-" he's kinda shook.

• after connecting to the bluetooth you two share in your bedroom, you sing that one verse where it's like, "tonight the music seems so loud-" and he falls for you all over again.

• he's genuinely stunned at how gorgeous your singing voice is, and when you finish your verse he doesn't even realise he's grinning at you.

• "Oma? You there?" You giggle nervously as you gently tap his cheek, and kokichi just laughs.

• the trickster immediately feels bad for laughing when you pout and ask if you were really that bad.

• "noooo! darling you sounded so fucking good oh my lord! not good at singing my ass." he giggles and gives you a smooch. "and i'm not lying this time!" he smiles brightly and you cheer up, hugging him with a thank you.

Rantaro :

• he doesn't want to pressure you to sing, but assured you that, without even hearing your voice, you sounded absolutely wonderful.

• "darling, trust me when I say you are wonderful in every way-" "rantaro-" "and I love you so much-" "RANTARO-"

• will smother you with praise and smooches bc he's a supportive bf

• eventually, you sing for your shared anniversary with your boyfriend as you're getting ready to go on a dinner date with him and his family.

• you almost scream when you feel rantaro hug you tightly; not knowing he was there.

• "see! you can sing - i told you so!" he laughs, kissing your neck and cheek so many times.

• "I really cant, my voice is raspy and-" "HUSH! the only reason is that you didn't prepare your voice, however you still sounded so fucking delicious, I could-" "okay, that's enough of that."

• he holds it above your head the whole night, but you still love him.

Nagito :

• he was half asleep on your couch when you started singing idly whilst working on your homework.

• he honestly feels like he doesn't deserve to hear your voice but is so entranced by your talent.

• "my love, you sound beautiful!" he beams as soon as you go quiet to focus properly.

• jolting with surprise, you turn to him. "i'm sorry, i didn't mean to wake you with all that, you probably don't wanna hear it." you frown.

• nagito shifts into overprotective mode instantly, insisting you are the best singer he's ever heard and assuring you that if you were comfortable with it he'd love to hear you sing more!

• "are you sure?" you pout. "absolutely! your talent is so incredible! i'm surprised trash like me is able to date you, let alone hear you-"

• you shut him up with a kiss and he smiles softly.

Kazuichi :

• he's deadass so shocked to hear you singing from the other room he drops his spanner on his foot.

• running through to where you were cleaning, he (accidentally) scares the life out of you when he yells. "YO YOU SOUND SO FUCKING COOL!"

• you're stunned into silence before he starts praising you and your face burns red.

• "it wasn't that good-" "babe I love you, but, shut the fuck up that was the most impressive note I've ever heard in my life oh my god-"

• this goes on for hours.

• when you're more comfortable with singing in front of him, kazuichi gets a serotonin spike every time you do.

• he'll even duet with you!

Gundham :

• You're singing his animals to sleep, and when the ultimate breeder hears you for himself, he's convinced you're a siren out for his heart despite you already having it.

• "my queen, you sound impeccable." he smiles, giving you a kiss on the cheek and your cheeks flush as you deny it.

• "my love, if I wasn't already madly in love with you, I would fall for you all over again."

• this comment silents you as you continue to tend to one of his Dark Divas, a soft smile on your face.

• he gives you another kiss before getting up and continuing with his daily chores.

Chiaki :

• chiaki is so stressed with a certain boss she has to defeat, so instead of getting too angry, she pauses the game and storms off to find you.

• you were sat on the couch, a random cartoon on in the background as you scrolled through your phone.

• chiaki huffed as she plopped down onto you, holding onto you tightly.

• "oh! hello there, softie. what's wrong?" you smile, putting your phone down to hug her back.

• "that boss is ass to fight." she pouted, and you assure her that you believed chiaki could do beat them.

• as your smol gf ranted about the game, you combed your fingers through her hair softly before handing chiaki her switch off the docking station, suggesting she played something else for a while.

• obliging, she opened animal crossing and listened to your heartbeat, slowly winding down.

• "is there anything else i can do to help, sweetheart?" you ask softly, "could you sing?"

• when chiaki looked up at you, you couldn't say no to her puppy dog eyes.

• so, you sang the chorus of her favourite song (which totally isn't no mercy by tlt) , kissing her forehead when she leans into you.

• "you sound so fucking goooood!" she giggles

• once calm, you make two mugs of hot chocolate as she wraps up in a blanket and happily avoids her taxes in animal crossing.

Junko :

• despite already knowing what your voice sounds like, she pretended she didn't.

• she still gives you so many compliments!!!

• she loves you so much that anyone that insults you will be executed 🥰

• she catches you singing to yourself and grins, tiptoeing behind you only to grab your shoulders and yell "boo!"

• you yelp, jumping out of her grip before relaxing as you see your girlfriend's mischievous face.

• you whine about how she scared you, but give her a hug.

• "babyyyy, you sound so fucking beautifullll!"

• like kaz, her praise goes on for so long.

• she likes to pester you, but loves it when you get flustered.

Fuyuhiko :

• you were alone as fuyu was away with work, so whilst cleaning up around the house.

• he had been away for three weeks, but that's just how his work goes.

• sure you're sad and worried, but you trust him and have faith that he's safe.

• idly singing to yourself whilst alone was a habit you had, so, whilst singing the chorus of your favourite song you kept working.

• "fucking hell babe, you should sing for me more often."

• you jump in surprise, but when you turn around to see fuyu leaning against the doorframe grinning at you.

• all embarrassment is lost as you quickly engulf him in a tight hug, giving his cheek plenty of kisses.

• "I missed you so much." "I can tell, fucking hell-"

• you help him with any bruises and scrapes he has, and keep smothering him in love.

• "alright, fucking hell, calm down. I've been away for longer than this calm down!"

• you're just happy your smol bf is home, despite him catching you singing to yourself.

#danganronpa #danganronpa imagines #kokichi x reader #rantaro x reader #nagito x reader #kazuichi x reader #gundham tanaka x reader #chiaki x reader #junko x reader #fuyuhiko x reader

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sohin-ace · 3 years ago

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Jolyne - No Ordinary Girl

Mermaid Y/N x Surfer Jolyne

Today was a particularly fitting day to go to the beach. Jotaro had taken Jolyne, Hermes and Foo Fighters to the shore. He mostly went for some observation and the girls decided they would take advantage of the nice weather for some surfing.

It was not long after they arrived and started installing themselves that Jolyne and Hermes' eyes fell into very familiar faces.

Annasui, upon seeing the group, walked towards the girls with a confident stance, making sure his long hair was flowing in the wind.

"Oh look who we have here. The ladies victory." Annasui exclaimed, before completely falling heart-eyed, his voice and tone softening, dreamy even, at the sight of his object of worship. "Hi Jolyne~"

"Oh! Weather Report's there! Hi Weas!" Jolyne called out to the older man arranging a parasol a few feet behind, her completely ignoring the pink haired-male that seemed to have come with him. He waved shortly at Jolyne in response.

"Anyways, what are you guys up to?" Hermes asked, sipping on some lime flavored granita.

"Well, as you can see..." He pointed at the ocean, "We just wanted to take a day to work out a bit, but the waves are real nice today."

He leaned in not so subtly towards Jolyne, despite Hermes' evident judging gaze.

"But you know what else is real nice today?" He brought his hand up to cup Jolyne's chin, but before he could even say or do anything, Jolyne leaned away and pointed behind him.

"Oh wow! My dad's coming back with drinks!" She called nonchalantly, looking behind Annasui like he was more transparent than air itself.

"...! DRINKS?! DRINKS!!" Foo Fighter gasped, pushing the feminine man off to the side with such force, he fell and slid against the sand.

"Hey, Jojo," Hermes tapped her friend's shoulder, "Let's show these pendejos how girls ride waves."

The Asian American smirked, eager to show who's boss and always ready to follow on her best friend's mischief. "I'm racing you then."

"Pfft, I won't go easy girlfriend." The Mexican cracked her knuckles and grabbed her plank.

After surfing for long enough and being outran by Jolyne's stamina, Hermes decided to go back and sunbathe next to F.F's who was playing cutely with sand.

Jolyne glided full speed over the water, the wind and droplets of salty water refreshing her skin. More than competition, Jolyne loved the acceleration, the adrenaline, the sweet fresh air through her long hair. When she was surfing, Jolyne's heart lightened up and her mind purged of any negative thoughts, anxiety, fears.

She was at peace.

Before she could enjoy the sweet taste of her peace of mind though, she caught up to a blond surfer in front of her who she recognized as she got closer. Oh god, not him of all people.

"Oh, hey! Isn't that the sexiest surfer in all Miami?" Romeo teased, admiring the girl who gained up on him, "Not bad, look at you go! Who knew my little Jojo would be so talented, hot damn!"

Jolyne frowned and clicked her tongue. She swore if she wasn't so focused on staying in balance, she would drown him on the spot. He laughed obnoxiously, satisfied with being a disgusting excuse of a human.

"Romeo, I swear to fuckin-"

Before she could even finish her sentence, something, a gigantic fish tail appeared out of the wave and flicked itself right accross the blonde, slapping him off of his plank with a painful sound.

"HUAARGHH-" He screamed before crashing into the water with the splash and disappearing behind Jolyne.

"O-OH MY GOD!" She gasped, both surprised by the sudden turn of events, and incredibly scared for her life, thinking some kind of hostile shark was in the shore currently, which was to report immediately.

The moment she decided to take a turn and leave as fast as she could, warning the others to get the hell out of here, a shadowy form within the water followed her along the wave.

Foolishly curious, Jolyne looked at it, not without her heart hammering in her chest at the potential danger she was facing.

What she saw was not a sight she'd have ever expected to ever see in all her 19 years. Her legs shook at the shock and she almost completely fell over her board.

Gliding along the water right next to her, right inside the tall wave, was the figure of... a girl.

Or was it a girl? It couldn't be. She looked human at first glance, but the more Jolyne's gaze moved sideways she noticed the long and impressive fish tail replacing what were supposed to be legs.

Jolyne's jaw felt slack. She felt like she was hallucinating. Believe it or not, she had not smoked or taken any recreative substances beforehand, but she truly wished she had because that would have at least explained what her eyes were showing her.

The girl swimming and following her only smiled, waving cutely with webbed hands, as if amused by Jolyne's disbelieving reaction and wide eyes.

"W-w-w.... What the fuck..???" Jolyne finally spoke after rebooting her entire brain, "No fucking way-...! A mermaid??!! A real one??!"

Like a bad trick from fate, the wave Jolyne was trying her hardest to not get swallowed by, seemed to grow weaker and weaker, shortening in size.

Jolyne saw the mermaid slowly retreat away in an elegant swim, her form vanishing into the deep blue.

"Wait, no!" The surfer called, almost desperate to have such a mystical meeting and ethereal moment be so short lived.

She reached her hand out to the creature, unsure of what she was even trying to do, but the force of the current got the best of her, and Jolyne lost balance, falling forward with nothing to hang onto for purchase.

Jolyne splashed onto the water and the wave died with her hope of ever living such a dream again.

"Ooohh dang it! You were almost there!" Hermes called out from the shore, her voice booming enough for Jolyne to hear as she broke into the surface.

"Fuck...." Jolyne cursed, hanging onto her board.

She felt defeated. Not because she couldn't ride that wave to the very end as she was expected to with her skill level, but rather because she couldn't immortalize that beautiful moment.

She blankly climbed onto her board again and barely even paddled her way back to land, too out of it to do so.

Was that even real? That had to be, right? She saw the mermaid. She saw her hair, her skin tone shined-on by the sun. She saw the scales over her skin, the fins along her arms and tail.

She saw her attack Romeo, he must have seen her too, Jolyne pondered.

"Aaah the champion is back!" F.F cheered as Jolyne finally walked back, drenched and with her plank under one arm. "I made a sandcastle for our ocean queen!"

"Thanks Foo..." Jolyne's small smile didn't not match her quiet tone.

"Hey, what's up, chula ? You look like you've seen a ghost, or something? You did great back there, so why the long face?" Hermes fixed the straps of Jolyne's bikini top and removed some seaweeds from her hair.

"It's just... I saw something weird it the water and I don't know..." Jolyne hesitated, "Maybe I was dreaming or something."

"Hum..." Hermes hummed in thought. "What do you think Féfé?"

"Maybe Mr. Jotaro can answer if you saw an animal? Damn, I'm thirsty." F.F stuck her tongue out, clearly expressing her thirst.

"Dude, there's water litterally everywhere here." The mexican grimaced before turning back to Jolyne. "But yeah, maybe you should ask your dad if that worries you so much."

"Uhh..."

Jolyne looked towards her father who was crouching somewhere next to some rocks, taking notes about mollusks, or so Jolyne guessed.

"Yeah, maybe not. It's fine though, no big deal." She smiled, waving her hand in dismissal.

Shrugging it all off, the girls decided to join Weather Report and Jotaro who brought food to finish the day at the beach with a relaxing touch.

And so, the day ended with an uncanny normalcy for Jolyne, who kept thinking more and more as the sun set, that it all had been in her mind. Mermaids didn't exist. It was probably a Stand user playing tricks on her.

That what she wanted to believe. When she thought of all the events that would follow, she truly wished she had spoken to her father about it. After all, if he had fought a very real vampire, then there would be no doubt that something as crazy as a mermaid could exist in her bizarre adventure.

Jolyne came back to the beach that same week. Alone, this time. She was careful to come by the time the sun started to lower in the sky and the temperature of the water and air dropped, knowing tourists and athletes would be gone by this time.

'What now?' She thought. Coming back out of sheer curiosity was a thing, but making sure she could attract the creature back to her was something else.

"Should I bring food? What do mermaids even eat? Does she like hot dogs...?" Jolyne thought out loud, looking around, secretly glad no one was here to hear her talk mad nonsense to herself like some insane crackhead.

She approached the water and drenched her feet in the small rocking waves, coming and going her way and gently splashing her. She hesitated for a moment, remembering that along with the legend of mermaids came the fact that these creatures were known to attract and enchant humans by their beauty, leading them to their inevitable death.

So maybe, Jolyne accepted, she was destined to die in the ocean.

Just as she came hip-deep into the sea, she felt a strange current shaking her legs, almost knocking her out of balance.

Before she could even process how strange it felt, she looked down into the clear water and saw no less than the same huge colorful fish tail she had seen that very day.

She gasped in realization and soon enough screamed as she felt calloused hands grab her thighs, the creature pushing herself out of the water to be met face to face with the human who had been, unbeknownst to Jolyne, her newfound fixation.

"Y-WHAAAAAHH!!!" Jolyne hollered, not expecting such a strong and surprising appearance.

The mermaid still halfway into the water, climbed and gripped up the girl's hips for leverage. She looked up at Jolyne's face, smiling wide and eyes glinting in both adoration and mischief.

"Greetings."

"HOLY CRAP-" Jolyne's voice cracked, "I mean- fuck yes! I mean-..."

Poor Jojo was completely out of it. But who could blame her, though? It was not everyday that one got to meet a real mermaid in the flesh. And certainly not such a handsy one.

She cleared her throat and mustered her most suave voice, pretending she wasn't completely flustered by the sheer beauty before her.

"Hi."

"I knew you'd come back..." The mermaid spoke, her voice almost ethereal and distant, "They always do."

Jolyne's heart wanted to stop. God, she felt burning hot and was sweating everywhere. Her voice stilled Jolyne to place in a way she couldn't explain. The legendary creature was so impossibly close to her, bodies almost touching.

She noticed she couldn't stay up overwater any other way than using Jolyne's lean body for leverage, her heavy tail anchoring her down. But the warm proximity between them and the sight of such a beautiful, rare and mystical creature right under her chest felt unreal and exciting.

Jolyne wanted to look her over for hours. Her hair texture, drenched and flowy, her skin tone glowing like gold, her holographic scales and fins shining like crazy diamonds.

"Why... Why did you...? Of all people...?" Jolyne questionned, now wondering if their first meeting in that wave was really a trick of fate, or if she was chosen in any way. "You attacked Romeo, yet you showed up to me... Why me?"

"I like beautiful humans." The mermaid smiled, her radiant features and smooth voice making Jolyne's legs weak, "You're beautiful."

The young surfer couldn't help her heart shaking and the wave of warmth spreading through her chest. If it was anyone else, she would boast her obvious beauty or maybe flip them off. But now she couldn't. Being complimented by a mythical being that was already the most gorgeous thing Jolyne had ever witnessed was truly something else

"What's your name?" Jolyne started.

"Call me Y/N."

Y/N, Jolyne's mind echoed. Cute. Even mermaids had names, she thought before realising that may be a very stupid thought to have. She didn't really know what else to expect.

"I uh, I'm Jolyne..." She looked down into the water, somewhat not daring to look at Y/N's adorable curious and sensual gaze. Oh god that was bad, she was entrancing.

"Not to be gay but...You look cute. Hot even. Can I say that? That's not weird, right? Since ya know... You're not exactly human, but you're not an animal either, like... I'm not gonna get arrested for this... I hope..."

"I'm not too familiar with human tongue, but I think Ms.Jolyne looks really pretty as well." Y/N moved to wrap an arm around Jolyne's waist, gripping her for better leverage and pointing at her chest, right in her reach. "Healthy mammals, great for feeding the young."

"Mammals...? Oh! You mean my boobs?" Jolyne glanced at her modest chest before grinning at the creature, "Aw thanks! Finally someone who likes them who's not some degenerate creep!"

Jolyne's chuckle died down and she finally took the time to look over Y/N's face. She ran a cold hand over her much warmer cheek, gliding it down to her gilled neck, mesmerized by her anatomy.

It truly was a one-in-a-lifetime meeting. Jolyne was slowly comprehending her luck to be met with a legendary sea creature like her. And a friendly one, at that.

How could this be even real? Our human knew that even though she was feeling relatively serene at the moment, the adrenaline would come down later and she would most likely cry herself to sleep.

"Hey uhm..." Jolyne was at a loss for words. There were so many things to say, but at the same time, she couldn't speak a word.

"Hm?" Y/N hummed and closed her eyes, enjoying the human's gentle touches.

Merfolks would express themselves via physical ministrations the most in the ocean, but she knew well a lot of humans did not share intimacies, or at least not before building a certain bond.

Glad that Jolyne was open to it, the sea-bound girl squeezed both her arms around the human's waist lovingly, forcing endearment on Jolyne, who felt her own heart tighten at the sweet and adorable embrace. The girls wanted to keep each other.

"Will we see each other again? I mean, I know you shouldn't be noticed by the public for your safety, but I don't know... Guess I took a liking to you or something." Jolyne mumbled, still resting her hands mindlessly around the creature's shoulders, fiddling with the ridges of her dorsal fin.

Y/N smiled, a smile that looked empty on her fish eyes, but sincere regardless. She let go of Jolyne who couldn't quite take her own hands off of her, clinging a little bit longer.

"Don't you know this, Ms. Jolyne? When human women die in the ocean, they relive as our kind."

"What? Really?" Jolyne let the mermaid get away slowly, ready to swim off to some unknown destination.

"If you want to see me again," Y/N called out cutely, waving her webbed hand like the very first time she saw Jolyne surfing, "Then perish in the ocean!"

She grinned, diving into the deep blue and splashing her tall tail strongly, giving herself a boost of speed, and disappearing away.

Jolyne could only stare into the horizon, darkening as the night arrived, stunned into place.

"...Ok, that was metal as fuck..."

H2O Just Add Water opening, but with Jolyne, Hermes and F.F

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo #jjba #reader insert #x reader #writing #jojo no kimyou na bouken #part 6 #jojo part 6 #stone ocean #jolyne cujoh #jolyne #jolyne x reader #jolyne kujo #jolyne kujo x reader #mermaid au #fantasy au #mermaid reader

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rheawritessometimes · 4 years ago

Text

{ Childe x GN!Reader }

{ Summary } Childe gets an owie while sparing. Series Masterlist

{ Warnings } Violence, Swearing, Angry Reader, Injury, Physical Intimacy (Kissing).

{ Notes } Hurting Childe just a little because he refused to come home for me. Lost the 50/50. Reader is a sword user. Reader is suggested to be the Traveler. Self-indulgent again because all my writing is. This one is a real trainwreck but I didn't want to go too long without posting. Something better than nothing? Masterlist

{ Word Count } 2,404

Meeting Childe at the Golden House every week had been your routine for a while now. Right after you had defeated him the first time, he immediately begged you to train with him and you gave in, unable to bear those puppy-dog eyes. And the entire week he spent pestering you about it.

The whole fiasco with Osial had been put behind the both of you. It was probably true that you were too quick to forgive Childe, but he was just so charming. Not to mention he often paid for your meals, suggesting going out to eat after your sessions or if he saw you around the harbor. On a few occasions, you had been out eating with friends or on your own and found he had picked up your tab.

Since Liyue hadn't been destroyed and you got free food out of it, you really weren't all too upset about the situation. The Snezhnayan was actually pretty easy to get along with when Fatui matters weren't involved. He made you laugh too, so you supposed you could tolerate the once-weekly sparing sessions with him.

Childe called it sparing, but normal people didn't spar with actual weapons and fight like they were going to kill their partner. At first, you had tried to convince him it would be much better and safer for the both of you to use practice weapons instead of sharpened blades and arrows. He was quick to decline, saying something about both of you being competent enough not to get seriously hurt. You thought about refuting that on the basis that he had yet to beat you even once.

Even so, every week you found yourself pushing through the doors to the chamber Childe was always patiently waiting in. You'd never gotten there before him and wondered if he intentionally came early. You wouldn't be surprised if that was the case, he probably paced the room plotting his seemingly unobtainable victory.

The hydro vision paired with his combat experience and skill made him a difficult opponent, but he didn't seem terribly good at strategy. He might have been careless because it wasn't a real fight, but somehow you doubted that. He seemed the type to always give it his all. It could be that was his problem, since his loss usually came due to his exhaustion. Maybe if he didn't spend so much energy trying to show off he'd actually be a proper challenge.

"You're finally here," Childe proclaimed dramatically, voice echoing off the walls, "I thought you might have gotten lost on the way or something. Was starting to worry I'd need to go out and rescue you."

"I'm fifteen minutes early, Childe. How long have you been waiting?" you asked dryly, raising your eyebrow questioningly. You took a moment to shrug your adventuring pack off your shoulders and drop it near the door. You rolled your shoulders, relieved to be free of the weight.

"Ahah, anyways, we should get started. I have some business to attend to today," he responded, indiscreetly ignoring your question. It shouldn't have been very surprising that he didn't wait for your response before sending an arrow flying in your direction, but he'd always waited for you to signal you were ready before starting in the past.

Materializing your sword out of habit more than anything else, you raised it to block the arrow with the flat of the blade. The arrow bounced off the metal with a weak dink, clattering to the ground. If you'd reacted a moment later it would have pierced you.

You shot Childe a dirty look, irate from the cheap shot. He responded by grinning wider and taking aim again. You silently promised that he would face your wrath shortly.

Advancing towards him, you swatted the arrow flying your way with your sword. A bow would be less effective at close range, so you intended to close the distance. The redhead laughed, a hint of nervousness creeping into the sound at the pace of your advance. Or perhaps it was the building rage in your eyes.

The bow dematerialized, now Childe held dual hydro-blades in his hands in anticipation of close combat. Once in range, he immediately swiped at you with a blade. You stepped back out of the way, quickly bringing up your sword to parry the next slash coming from the opposite blade.

Childe seemed encouraged by you backing away, a smug look crossing his face. You furrowed your brows, he was so unthoughtful. He insists on using real weapons, shoots at you before you're ready, and now he has the audacity to get cocky.

You raise your blade to swing down at him and he catches your sword on crossed hydro-blades. He lets out a little huff of air, not expecting you to strike with such force, but his arms hold steady. You swiftly draw your blade back to slash at him again. Thorough training has you swiping at him with practiced ease while Childe is forced to switch to the defensive.

It gives you a sort of satisfaction to see his expression change to one of worry, it was your first time seeing such a look on him. You had no intention of actually hurting him, but it was nice to scare him a little. Maybe after this, he'd take the dangers of sparing with actual weapons a little more seriously. But probably not.

You're hardly thinking when his hydro-blades finally fail to parry your blows, the flat of your blade slamming into the side of his chest resulting in a soft crack barely loud enough to reach your ears. A look of surprise crosses your face when he lets out a pained grunt, what had happened finally being processed in your mind.

Immediately you drop your sword, ignoring it as it clatters to the ground before dematerializing. You were internally relieved to see his hydro-blades dissipate too, it would have been terribly unsportsmanly of him to stab you now. Stepping forward on instinct, you pause as you realize you're not exactly sure what to do.

Childe clutches his chest as he coughs a few times and a flood of panic washes over you. If you broke his ribs, his lungs could have been punctured. That would be bad.

"Fuck, that hurts," he huffed out before he attempted to gingerly sit down, right in the middle of the Golden House. Childe winced at the movement, but he managed to settle, leaning on his arms for support. His breathing was heavy from the strain of sparing and you felt extremely guilty, broken ribs had a tendency to hurt terribly and pain would flare up with every breath. At least he seemed to be breathing okay, so his lungs were probably intact.

"Let me get something to ease the pain," you said hastily, jogging towards the door to grab your bag. Your first thought was to numb him up before bringing him to Bubu Pharmacy to get some proper help.

"Aw, are you actually worried about me?" he cooed teasingly, maintaining that signature annoying grin despite the pain that followed him speaking. It was easy to ignore him as you rummaged through your bag for something useful.

It crossed your mind that it would be exceedingly difficult to get him all the way back to Liyue if you gave him anything strong. That limited your options rather greatly, adding that on to your lacking medical knowledge and limited variety of resources left you with fewer options than you would have liked. He probably could make it back without any anesthetic but it would be slow and you'd feel terrible for it.

Even with your lack of selection, you were thankful to have some knowledge and materials for this sort of thing, adventuring made you better at improvising and you learned a lot along the way. Taking everything into consideration, you decided it would be best to go with something topical. You could make a salve to numb up the area and then hopefully drag him to Bubu Pharmacy.

"I'm really sorry, Childe," you apologized, "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Oh don't worry about it, this isn't the first time I've broken my ribs. Probably won't be the last, either," he replied with a laugh, which caused him to wince. You only frowned at him as you pulled out some plants to grind up. A rock would have worked, but you kept a mortar and pestle for this kind of thing after realizing you'd be doing it often.

You were soon mashing some leaves and a few petals into a paste, with some water Childe so graciously provided. Having a hydro user around was rather convenient when practicing field medicine.

"Whatcha makin'?" Childe asks after a short period of silence, leaning over to get a closer look. You wonder if he's actually curious or if he just can't tolerate the quiet. It seemed the two of you were always talking when you were together, save for when your sparing got too intense to spare the breath.

"A salve to numb you up so I can drag you to Bubu Pharmacy," you responded, still mostly focused on getting the paste to the right consistency.

"What? No, I can't go. I've got work to do," he argued, moving to stand up now.

You were quick to grab his wrist to prevent him from getting up, furrowing your brows. Childe paused, waiting for your explanation.

"You have at least one broken rib, whatever you need to do can wait," you told him sternly, maintaining eye contact. He turned his gaze away from you to hum in contemplation. He knew well enough that giving injuries time to heal was important, but so was his job.

"Fine, I guess what I was supposed to do today isn't that important," he relented, leaning back into a comfortable position once more. Childe had a feeling that if he had insisted on working you'd have found a way to stop him anyway.

"Can you take off your shirt?" you asked, trying to sound as casual and not awkward as possible once you were satisfied with the consistency of the paste. You would have offered to allow him to apply it himself but you figured it would be less painful this way, plus you'd need to bandage his chest afterward, so it didn't make much of a difference.

"Oh my, you're not usually this bold," he teased, reaching to begin undoing the clasps holding his jacket together. His remark made you decide against offering your assistance despite the awareness that even just wriggling out of the jacket probably hurt. It's okay to be a little petty sometimes. As a treat.

Once his torso was bare you shifted your position to be a bit closer and examined his side. There was already the beginning of bruising, but it would get much darker by tomorrow. You ignored the scars and other bruises that were present, very aware of the fact the redhead would tease you for staring if you looked any longer.

"I promise I'll be gentle," you assured, "But it'll probably hurt a little."

Childe just hummed, waving off your warning, so you gathered some of the salve on your fingers. You silently wished you'd had gloves that weren't absorbent with you so your hands wouldn't grow numb later.

It was a quick process of spreading the paste over his ribs, but his eyes remained on you the entire time. You couldn't be sure if he was just interested in what you were doing, but it surprised you that he remained entirely silent.

"It'll take a little while to numb up. I'm going to bandage your chest for support. This will hurt more," you informed him, dragging your pack towards you to dig out a roll of bandages.

"Don't worry, I'm a tough boy," he laughed in response, and you could only smile and shake your head at him. You had faith in his strength, but that didn't stop the guilt you felt over being responsible for his pain. It did make you feel better when he started reminiscing on past injuries he'd sustained in battle once you began bandaging him. How he could look back on them so fondly was a mystery to you.

At first, you were mindful to touch him as little as possible while you were wrapping the bandages. They needed to be a little tight to provide support but you tried to ensure they put as little pressure on his ribs as possible. Unfortunately, your fingers started to grow numb and you hadn't realized you'd been bandaging too tightly until Childe let out a soft grunt of pain.

"Fuck, sorry," you apologized, quickly unraveling the last section of bandaging to rewrap it more loosely.

"Don't worry about it," he said, thinking for a moment before adding, "But, if you want to make it up to me, a kiss would make me feel better."

Pausing in your ministrations, you looked up to see a cheeky grin on his face. You raised a brow, giving him an entirely unimpressed expression. It wasn't entirely uncommon for him to flirt like this, trying to get a reaction out of you. But as you reached one hand up to gently grab his chin, it was his turn to become flustered.

Leaning up, you pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek before moving away and releasing your hold on him. You patted his cheek twice, giving him an amused grin.

"You're welcome."

"Hey! That doesn't count!" Childe immediately whined, pouting at you. You could only laugh at his playful antics as you finally finished wrapping his chest.

"You're cruel, you know that?" the Snezhnayan grumbled, eyebrows still furrowed as he continued to pout. He really did seem like a spoiled kid at this moment and you laughed again, causing his frown to deepen.

You knew his demeanor was all theatrical, but as you stared at his expression you found yourself leaning towards him again. You gently pressed your lips to his, smiling into the kiss when his hands eagerly flew up to your face. You indulged in the kiss for a few moments, smirking when he followed you as you pulled away. Putting a hand on his shoulder, you halted his attempt to continue.

"You can have another kiss once you get checked out at Bubu Pharmacy."

If you read all that, I'm sorry lol. I wanted to spend more time on it but I don't want to take too long posting things. Anyways, if you have any better ideas for what I should write send them in. Please.

There's a part two now: Part 2

#.rhea writes #.r let's make a deal #genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #childe x reader #genshin childe #childe #tartaglia #tartaglia x reader #genshin tartaglia #tartagalicious #taking my anger out on childe #but also simping for childe #fluff #is this fluff?

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pcvensies · 3 years ago

Text

*.• Si vis amari.

II. The Sun.

in which 18 year old gojo satoru is left in charge of 6 year old fushiguro megumi and 8 year old tsumiki fushiguro, with the help of 17 year old nanami suki (oc).

word count: 3280

I. The Moon.

Soft light crept through the curtains, and Suki turned around to protect her sleepy eyes, stretching her whole body as she groaned, legs shaking as she did. She scratched her head, hair falling on her eyes, and the blonde sat up, eyes getting used to the new light of the room before a voice interrupted her awakening.

“Gojo I told you you’d sleep on the floor, get the fu-”.

Kento opened his eyes, hair messy and an angry expression plastered in his face. But his sight found only his twin, instead of the white haired boy.

The blonde was as confused, looking around and finding herself in a room different to the one she had fallen asleep into.

They both got up, Suki opening the windows and Kento making the bed.

“Though you were taking the couch”.

“I did”, she answered, looking through the window, rolling her eyes at the thought of Satoru changing places with her.

The blonde walked to her bedroom, opening the door to a sleeping Fushiguro on her bed, the kid snorting peacefully. She closed the door again, and this time walked to the living room.

It was empty, and so was the kitchen, and Suki felt her stomach sink. Had Gojo simply left them with the kid? It didn’t sound like him, but neither did this whole situation. He was acting very strangely, honestly, maybe…

She shook her head, shaking the thought away, and walking to the kitchen to make breakfast.

“Any idea where Gojo is?”, she asked out loud, making coffee.

“Nope”, her brother replied, rubbing his eyes as he sat at the kitchen table, “But he better be back to get the kid”.

Suki poured two coffees, one with milk and the other black, and sat in front of her brother, as he opened a bag of croissants that rested on the table.

“Can you get the juice from the fridge?”, Kento asked, earning a groan from his twin.

“Could have said before I sat down, couldn’t you Ken?”, she complained, as her hand found the fridge door.

Stuck with a magnet, a note caught her attention: “Call me when u wake up, we have something to pick up. Bring hedgehog kid! -Toru xx”. The girl sighed, throwing the note to her brother’s head as she sat back down with the juice box.

Kento read it and didn’t bother asking, he simply poured two glasses of juice, croissant hanging from his mouth as he did so.

The twins had breakfast in silence, still waking up, throwing glances at each other that they understood like words.

“This is crazy”.

“I mean, it’s Gojo we’re talking about. Of course it’s crazy”.

Kento snorted softly.

“You sure it’s a good idea? You can handle it, Sue?”.

The girl looked away, rolling her eyes in the process, and got up to prepare a cup of chocolate milk, ignoring her brother’s worried glances.

But Kento couldn’t ignore his worry. His sister and himself had been through enough, and the past months had been very rough on Suki. He didn’t want her to put any more pressure on herself, with all the missions they were giving her.

He couldn’t ask her again before Suki had already left the room, opening the door of her bedroom again, and walking to open the blinds slightly.

The sun filled the room with small squares of light, just enough to allow the blonde to locate everything around her.

She crouched next to the bed, gently shaking the kid, calling him softly as he started to open his eyes, covered by his messy raven hair.

“Good morning, Fushiguro… Breakfast is ready, and I’ll run you a bath. We’ll meet up Gojo later”.

The kid rubbed his eyes as he sat up, looking at his surroundings in an initial post-sleep confusion, but soon nodding at her words.

Suki noticed he had one of her old plushies next to him, a fluffy panda whose left ear had been lost to a dog in the park, but she didn’t say anything, simply getting up again and fully opening blinds and windows this time.

She made the bed as the kid left, and closed the door to put on some clothes. She then did her make up (there’s no reason why a strong sorcerer shouldn’t look good, if death is always around the corner anyways), and braided her hair, before heading to the bathroom to prepare the bath for the kid, and brush her teeth.

It wasn’t that different from her usual morning routine, she realised, and it hadn’t even been that much work to get Megumi to get up. He maybe wasn’t the sweetest kid, but he was as well behaved as one could expect.

And, being honest with herself, as he walked in the bathroom with sleepy eyes, and chocolate milk all over his face, Suki didn’t even mind having him around that much.

She put some towels in the towel warmer, left the kid’s clothes in the sink, and exited the bathroom to pick up her car keys, and her phone from the couch, eyes opening wide at her new lockscreen: a selfie Gojo had taken with her sleeping figure that night.

She unlocked it, searching for his name on her contact list, while Kento washed the dishes in the kitchen, the sound of the water making the girl walk to the balcony.

“Oh good morning, Susu”, Satoru greeted her through the phone.

“Morning, Gojo. Fushiguro is taking a bath, once he’s finished and ready we’ll go… What’s all this about? You didn’t stay for breakfast”.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry about that. Needed to do something first thing in the morning”, he simply said, avoiding the main question, “I’ll send you an address, yeah? And we’ll meet there, let's say… in an hour?”.

“Mhm, sounds good to me. Want us to bring something? I’m taking the car”.

“Stop to get something sweet for breakfast… It’s very important- no, crucial, to the plan”.

Suki rolled her eyes, but agreed, and she hung up when the bathroom door opened. She chuckled softly at the kid, wet hair falling on his eyes, and put her phone in her back pocket to grab the towel from his hands.

The kid looked up at her through the wet strands, like a cat who’s been caught by the rain, and Suki threw it over his head, drying his hair gently.

“If you don’t dry your hair well, you'll catch a cold, kid. And it will look weird”.

“I don’t care how it looks… Are we going to get the big baby now?”, the boy said, referring to Satoru, and earning a laugh from Kento.

“Yeah, Gojo wants us to go to an address… Here”, the girl explained, showing the kid the message, “We’ll go in my car and-”.

The kid’s face had changed, and Suki stopped talking, confused. He looked away from her and the phone, his energy switching to a weary one.

Just then, the blonde girl looked back at the text message, clicking on the address. It was a primary school.

“Fushiguro… Do you know why Gojo is sending us to a school?”.

“It’s not my school, I was kicked out…”, even his voice was different, “But, uhm-...”

“It’s my sister’s”.

( . . . )

The white haired boy waited outside, back pressed against the wall of the school’s entrance.

Mothers and older sisters were starting to gather around, waiting for their kids and siblings outside, some of their eyes caught by the handsome boy that stood unbothered under the sun, scrolling down his phone.

He looked up, blue eyes shielded by his round sunglasses meeting a pair of brown ones. The girl blushed, looking away immediately, and Satoru smirked as he looked around, looking for Nanami’s car this time.

A black Citroen C3 took the corner, and Satoru waved at it, signaling Nanami to park in front of where he was.

He put his phone in his pocket, followed by his hands, and he started walking towards the car. But then he felt it, Six Eyes sending him a very clear message right there: Nanami was angry. Very angry.

“Gojo Satoru, how could you do this to us?!”, she yelled, followed by the younger Fushiguro.

Gojo opened his eyes in surprise, knowing exactly what she was doing. They wanted to embarrass him.

“I work TWO jobs just to keep us all going, I offered to help you with YOUR mistress’ kid after SHE left YOU, and you don’t even have the guts to tell me… there’s ANOTHER KID?!”.

All the girls that just minutes before eyed him up and down, now looked at him with disgust, and Gojo felt his cheeks grow redder by second.

“Nanami-san has done so much for us, and you still lied to her, you’re gross!”, Megumi added, pulling up his best distressed kid act.

At the entrance of the school, a teacher waited with the few kids that hadn’t left with their horrified parents already. Behind a tall, blonde boy, a small girl with a dark ponytail looked at Megumi with confusion.

Megumi ran to her, the teacher recognising the problematic child as her brother, and didn’t bother asking who the screaming teenagers were. She had heard about the Fushiguro sibling’s parents, so she wasn’t surprised nor doubted that everything the blonde was yelling was true.

It didn’t seem too strange for Tsumiki’s mother to have had an affair and fled, and it was known by everyone at the school that Megumi’s father had been out of the picture for almost a year now.

She did, however, feel bad about that poor girl. She looked truly hurt, and having to take care of a kid like Fushiguro…

“But Suki I-“, Gojo tried to get her to shut up, eyes apologising with urgency.

“Get in the car Satoru, I can’t even- I can’t even look at you right now. Let’s go kids”.

Megumi and his sister were soon sitting in the back of the car, followed by Suki, and lastly by Gojo.

The younger boy looked at Suki through the mirror, and the girl met his eyes, before they crashed into laughs, much to Gojo’s displeasure.

When they calmed down, and Suki apologised to Gojo with the cinnamon rolls she had bought, Megumi explained the situation to his sister. How their father wasn’t going to come back, and neither was their mother.

Tsumiki was very scared at the beginning, for the both of them, but when the pretty blonde senior pulled up at their apartment, and called Megumi by his name, she felt very relieved.

Megumi never let anyone call him by his first name, as he didn’t like it. Only she herself was allowed, as she didn’t really remember her mother or his father being around that much anyways. But if he let that girl do it too, then she was truly trustworthy.

“Megumi, why didn’t you tell me about Tsumiki, hm?”, she asked, and the little girl felt shy under her intimidating eyes.

“I dunno”, he shrugged a little, inexpressive eyes on hers, “I didn’t think I’d stay with you for too long, she’d have been okay with the neighbours until I got ba-”.

Tsumiki gasped when the blonde girl put her hand on Megumi’s head, messing his hair. But to her surprise, her brother didn’t do anything more than sighing and rolling his eyes, starting to walk towards the building, followed by the girl.

She looked at them with big eyes, then up at the white haired boy, who gave her a big smile.

“Did you know Toji?”, the little girl asked him, as they too started walking.

“Mhm. Before he decided to leave forever, he asked me to keep an eye on ‘Gumi. You know, ‘cause he can be kiiiinda problematic sometimes”.

The little girl laughed, nodding shyly, and the boy’s smile grew. At least this one liked him.

They walked to the apartment door, slightly open as Megumi was inside, while Suki stood in front of the door next to it, talking to an old woman.

She bent down, hands pressed together, as she thanked the lady who looked at her with a sweet, warm smile.

“Thank you so much for taking care of them these past months, Hosho-san. My husband and I will take on from here... We found out a few days ago about what happened to Fushiguro-san and his wife… and we came all the way from Kioto just yesterday. I hope they haven’t been too much work, and my husband is more than willing to help with any economic matter that they can have caused to your family”.

Gojo smirked at her words. Suki’s ability to create stories to get them out of trouble had been saving their asses for years now, and it never stopped amazing him. Plus, pretending that Fushiguro senior was a family friend, and they were a young marriage taking the kids, was the perfect story to keep away anyone suspicious of them.

“Oh, no, no, dear. They’re wonderful, please don’t worry about anything. It’s more than enough to know that someone will be taking proper care of them from now on”.

Suki nodded and gave the old woman a smile, before Gojo wrapped his arm around her, chin resting on top of her head.

“Megumi is already picking up his things, baby. Why don’t you go help him and Tsumiki while I thank Hosho-san here?”.

He also gave the lady a smile, a charming, sweet one, and the woman blushed softly with a chuckle. Suki smiled, rolling her eyes as she walked in, leaving the white haired boy to continue adding to their story so she could help the kids without any other neighbour coming around.

Tsumiki was sitting in the living room, a yellow bag with white flowers already prepared on the floor. It didn’t take too much for anyone to realise Megumi had prepared it for her, as he walked in first and was still starting his.

The blonde girl sighed softly, sitting on the couch next to the little girl, who put her hands on her own lap, holding them together to hide the way they were slightly shaking.

Suki wasn’t sure about Megumi’s plan, using his first name so Tsumiki would see her as someone of trust, but at least they had found her.

“Tsumiki-”.

“Thank you for taking us in, Nanami-san!”, the little girl almost yelled, head down.

Nanami looked at her with soft eyes, a little smile plastered on her face as she nodded.

“Would you like me to braid your hair like mine, while we wait? I think it’d look good on you, Tsumiki”.

Her hair was almost matted, knots making it impossible to even try to brush it. The little girl sobbed when the scissors started snapping, balls of blonde hair falling at her feet.

The also young boy sighed deeply as he continued to cut his sister's hair, both of them eight by the time.

“It’ll grow again, healthier”.

“I look like a boy!”, the little girl sobbed harder.

Her brother sighed, holding her in his arms, and shook his head.

“When it grows again, I’ll learn how to braid it okay? I promise. You won’t need mom to do it. I will do it”.

The little girl sniffed softly, rubbing her eyes with her little shaky hands, but nodded.

“Thank you, Ken”.

The little girl looked up at her with bright eyes, nodding her head fast and excitedly, and Suki signaled her to go get a hair brush and a ribbon, which the little girl ran to do.

Her hair was lighter than Megumi’s, not exactly black, but a dark shade of brown, very straight and shiny. She was too young to have any heat damage, and Suki brushed it carefully, as the younger girl looked at their reflection on the TV while sitting as still as she could.

From Megumi’s bedroom, Gojo stood against the door frame, moving his eyes from the kid to the girls. Suki had managed to calm down the little girl immediately, and she had gotten Megumi to collaborate with her all day.

She had a weird talent he didn’t have. He could make Tsumiki laugh, and could get Megumi to follow him, but he couldn’t get them to relax, to trust like Nanami had in a night and barely an hour.

Satoru opened his mouth to speak, just in time for Suki’s phone to start ringing. On top of the screen, a name popped up: Kitamura Nagisa.

Suki finished tying the ribbon to the little girl’s braid, and just then realised she had forgotten her plans for the day, a wave of anxiety hitting her like a truck.

“Your phone’s ringing, Suk- Oh”, Gojo spoke, watching her sit there, blocked, phone in hand, “What are you doing?”.

The blonde girl simply signaled him to shut up, taking a deep breath before picking up.

“Hey, Nanami”, the boy’s voice was raspy, and Suki sighed softly at it, ears turning red just by the sound, “Are you okay? I sent you like twelve messages, are we still meeting for lunch? I’ve been waiting here for fifteen minutes now”.

Suki bit her lip, looking at the kids, both of them ready now as Megumi walked out of the room with his bag.

“I- Uh… I am so sorry, Kitamura, I should have called you but something important came up, and I… I forgot completely”.

The boy chuckled softly, Suki’s embarrassment noticeable in her voice.

“No worries, Nanami… Is everything okay? Anything I can help you with?”.

“Hm… actually just… a family friend passed away!”, she spit out, and in front of her, Gojo raised an eyebrow, not understanding why the Suki was so nervous.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, Nanami, I had no idea”.

Suki sighed. She didn’t want to lie to Nagisa. But she definitely couldn’t tell him the truth.

“Thank you, it’s just… He had two kids, and he didn’t have any more family… So it was either Kento and I , or my parents taking them in…”, she almost whispered the last part, avoiding Satoru’s confused gaze, “So you know, we kind of had to do it. A friend and I are helping them with their stuff right now”.

All she got for a minute was a hum, and silence, her heart beating faster than ever before inside her ribcage.

“Why don’t we have dinner together then, yes? I’ll bring take out, and I’ll help you get everything ready”.

Gojo frowned at his words. He had heard Nanami and Shoko talk about that boy, Kitamura, before. But he didn’t know the blonde girl and him were close like that, to have secrets that he apparently didn’t know.

It’s not like it angered him, or anything, he’d explain, it just annoyed him that Suki hadn’t told him. Yeah, that was it, and that’s that.

“You don’t mind? Kento will be home…”.

“And so will I! Is it a problem, Kitamura, huh?”, Satoru’s voice rose over Suki’s, getting a death glare from the girl.

“Not a problem at all. Any friend of Nanami is of mine”, the boy replied, and one could feel the smirk in his voice, “See you tonight then, Suki. You too, dude”.

And with that, Nagisa hung up, leaving a cold ambience in the room between Suki and Satoru, that made even the kids shiver.

n/a: i did say slowburn and i intend on keeping my word thank u v much SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG ON UPDATING :( the ending was shit but im SO TIRED forgive me ily <3

taglist: @expectoscamander @tsun444mi @helvegen-s @theworldis-ahead @evans-dejong @crzyinluve

#sivisamari.lulu #gojo satoru x reader #dad gojo #megumi fushiguro #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru #son megumi #tsumiki fushiguro #nanami kento x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #satoru x reader #dad satoru

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abundanceofnots · 3 years ago

Text

a little (just under 2k) playground scene with Lip and Ian as dads, as per @pink--and--white's request. i apologize to all actual parents in advance.

“How the fuck did we get here?” Lip asks through a huff of incredulous laughter.

Ian shades his eyes from the sun, turning to his older brother with a look of mock concern. “Your memory that bad already, old man? We drove here.”

It earns him a stinging smack on his thigh.

“Asshole,” Lip retorts back. “You know what I mean.”

Ian’s eyes flit back to the scene before them. “Yeah, I do,” he confirms a beat later, his voice more earnest this time.

This, by far, isn’t a new feeling. Lip’s had the exact same thought pass through his mind countless times in recent years, always in a momentary flash of warmth that filled up his whole chest. It happens all the more often now over the most mundane shit, though.

The first time was, probably, when Freddie was born. Then Ian got married, and Al came along, and Liam got to a good school—and after that followed every other quiet (not literally) evening when the whole family gathered up in the kitchen.

In those instants, Lip would stall himself for just a second, getting lost in the overwhelming sounds and visuals, and think, what the fuck.

He’s getting soft. That’s it, most likely. He’s getting soft and sentimental, going on with his extremely unexceptional life, wondering how in the hell did a piece of shit like himself get so lucky, and slowly becomes someone he’d gladly punch in the face not too long ago.

It hits him hard again, this strange sense of pride and wonder, as he sits next to his baby brother on a bench overlooking a kids’ playground.

This one’s the real deal. Everything here is child-proof and clean, with no syringe or dogshit in sight. Frank or some random homeless guy aren’t lying in a drunken coma by the swing sets. There’s not even one bullet hole in the slide. And maybe it’s not so hard to admit that this is actually pretty nice. That this is them now.

Still, the whole thing is, without a doubt, totally ridiculous. Here they are, Lip and Ian—the college dropout and the ex-con, the true sons of the South Side—sneakily munching on their kids’ packed afternoon snacks.

“Dumb luck, I guess,” Ian answers Lip’s question after some musing and takes a sip from Toe’s pink-colored juice box.

Lip hmms before he bites into a baby carrot. “For us, or them?”

“For us. Definitely.”

They’re just two regular dads who carry around lunchboxes and always have a wet wipe or a pack of tissues at hand, ready to blow noses and wipe off residue chocolate from chins and hands. There aren’t enough words in the English language that would describe how incredibly ridiculous this is, because once upon a time, not too long ago, still, Ian wore a jumpsuit with Dav on the nametag and believed this was it for him, and Lip thought the only way to get through life was by drinking himself through the ordeal.

How the fuck did they get here?

“Freddie! Hey, Freddie!” Lip calls out to his oldest, who hangs upside down from the monkey bars, effectively ignoring him. “Fred!” he tries again with an annoyed sigh, and the boy finally remembers how his ears work. “Can you help your cousin on the slide?”

“Okay!”

With a swift motion, Freddie pulls himself up again to grab hold of a bar, unhooking his knees in the process, and jumps down into the sand with practiced ease. He then immediately gets into a run, coming behind the red-headed girl in black overalls who’s been trying to climb the gentle ramp on her own.

“What was that about?” Ian inquires amusedly.

“Early puberty, I think. He doesn’t want us to call him Freddie anymore. It’s Fred. No Fredster, no Fredtastic, definitely no Fredosaurus. Just Fred. Apparently, I went to bed, and my son turned into a middle-aged man overnight.”

“Oof. That’s rough.”

“Yeah. The next thing I know, he’s gonna get a neck tattoo and his first STI. Al, buddy!” His younger son Alvin, at least, seems to have no trouble with hearing. “You need help? Want me to push you?”

“No, I’m good!” the blond kid shouts back from the swing, and to prove his point, he pushes himself harder off the ground to gain momentum.

Lip scratches his forehead. “They don’t need me anymore,” he comments darkly. “I am officially a bother.”

“You’ve always been a bother,” Ian notes before he stuffs his mouth full of grapes. “Come on, Lip. Freddie’s eight. He’s not exactly packing his bags to leave home. He’s still very much a daddy’s boy.”

“I don’t know, man. When I remember what I was already doing when I was his age….”

“Yeah, but that’s different. They’re not like us. They don’t need to be, and that’s a good thing.”

Ian’s right, but the concept of normal as something desirable, something he doesn’t necessarily need to rebel against, is something Lip may never fully come to grasps with. And neither does Ian, even if he says otherwise.

“We might be getting a dog,” Lip says after a while, pausing before he sinks his teeth into a cheese stick.

“No way!” Ian smirks at him. “Look at you, perfect American family and shit.”

Lip snorts at that. He and Tami are pretty damn far from perfect. “You not thinking about getting a pet? A friendly rottweiler for Mickey, perhaps?”

“No. First, I gotta talk him into having another kid.”

That takes Lip by surprise. He knows Ian absolutely adores his little girl, his mini ginger twin that everyone got to call Toe, short for Tomato, but he also knows the whole story behind how she came to be.

“Oh, yeah? You’d like another?”

“Yeah,” Ian admits, and as his eyes drop to his lap where his fingers fiddle with a paper straw, Lip realizes he sounds ashamed about it.

“Not as easy as poking holes in condoms with you guys, huh?” he jokes to release the sudden tension.

“Hah. No.”

“You told Mickey yet?”

Meeting his brother’s eyes again, Ian gives a noncommittal shrug. “I hinted.”

From experience, Lip knows that hinting in Ian’s case almost exclusively means Mickey is fully aware of his intentions and just chooses to ignore them before Ian confronts him head-on.

“Hopefully, you’ll have another girl,” he tells Ian after a quiet moment filled with children’s high-pitched screams and the steady screeching of a swing set. “It’s a lot more physical with boys. These two are already fighting like we used to.”

“Doesn’t really matter when you’re raising a Milkovich,” Ian remarks before yelling: “Hey, Toe? You wanna have a sip of your juice for me?”

The girl waves at them eagerly as she slides down the bendy chute. Getting to a run right as her feet touch the ground, she comes to a jolty halt in front of them, taking a good, hard look at the juice box as if only now realizing what’s expected of her.

“No, thank you,” Toe then peeps and skips off again.

“Polite,” Lip appraises.

Ian gives a low chuckle. “Fuckin’ weird, huh?”

“With Mickey as her dad? A little.”

They watch the kids play for a few minutes. Ian offers to exchange a cheese stick for three grapes, and Lip negotiates it up to five before agreeing.

“You think he’d be against it? Having another kid?” he asks Ian mid-chew.

“I mean, I wouldn’t blame him, after all the shit with Terry. Maybe with a second kid, he’d think there’d be twice the damage he could do. Dunno,” Ian surmises uncertainly. “I know how hard it was for him to even want a kid, and I get why he was scared. Don’t get me wrong, I’m shitting myself every day when I think of the ways I could fuck this up. But he’s a great dad. You saw him with Toe. She’s obsessed with him. The way she laughs at everything he says makes you think he invented comedy or something.”

Lip’s aware that their conversation turned sort of serious once again, but he can’t help not breaking into a smile. “Sounds like you’re kinda jealous of your husband there, Ian.”

“Oh, I hate his guts,” his brother confirms, only partially kidding. “I’m a fun dad, too, you know.” As if on cue, a figure coming their way catches his attention, and Ian nods to where his daughter’s playing, telling Lip: “Okay, watch this.”

Mickey gestures at Freddie with a finger to his lips, coming around the slide just in time to catch his daughter in his arms with a victorious roar.

“Daddy!” Toe announces the good news to everyone around with a loud squeal.

Ian gives his brother a pointed look.

“Fuck, man,” Lip huffs with mock seriousness. “You tellin’ me she loves her dad? What a nightmare.”

“Yo, lunch ladies.” Mickey suddenly approaches them with Toe at his hip. “How ’bout less chit-chatting and more kid-watching? Think I’d remember if I left my kid with a giant fuckin’ bruise on her forehead this morning.”

“Yeah. She’s had a bit of a scuffle with Alvin earlier,” Ian says, reaching out to soothingly rub Toe’s calf as if said scuffle and the tears it brought weren’t already long forgotten.

“The hell’s he doin’ fightin’ someone half his size?!”

“She started it!” Lip counters weakly.

“Okay.” Mickey’s mouth hangs open for a minute before he finds his figurative footing again. “I guess she had her reasons for that. And you should teach your kids to not fight dirty.”

“I go play now,” Toe informs him then, putting a stop to his rant and his bad mood in one go.

“Yeah! You do that!” Mickey replies as he puts her down, matching her level of enthusiasm. She heads for the extensive pirate-ship-like construction this time, watchful cousin Freddie already on her heels, and Mickey drops heavily next to his husband, letting out a prolonged groan into his hands.

“Tough day?” Ian asks needlessly.

“Igor’s a fuckin’ idiot.”

“Told you he was.”

“And I agree, so drop it, a’ight? Hey, by the way.”

“Hey,” Ian echoes before they exchange a quick kiss.

Mickey notices the juice in his hands then and perks up. “That raspberry?” he checks after he’s already snagged the box for himself, taking loud slurps from it to get every last drop. He finishes off with a belch. “Fuckin’ love raspberry.”

Lip finds that anything he’d say at that moment would only spoil the natural fucking beauty of it, so he just appreciates with a private snicker.

“Daddy! Daddy!” Toe yells from the top of one of the pirate ship’s smaller slides. “Come play!”

Mickey pats at Ian’s thigh. “That’s on you, man. I’m beat.”

Putting his fun-dad face on, Ian heaves himself up without a complaint. “Hey, jellybean! Do you think your dad can fit on the slide, too?”

Toe shakes her head vehemently, giggling as she watches Ian jog toward her. “No, daddy! No! No!”

“What, you don’t think I can?” Ian asks again, halfway through his climb up on the board. “Well, take off your socks now because they might get blown off! I’mma fit!”

“Daddy!” Toe howls with laughter as he bumps his head on one of the low railings.

Beside Lip, Mickey imitates the reaction, both his hand and the phone he’s holding with it to record a video visibly shaking. When he notices Lip staring, his grin falters a little.

“These two jokers,” Mickey complains after he ends the recording. “She always laughs at everything he does like he invented comedy or some shit.”

Lip answers with a knowing smile, his chest feeling full of warmth.

Seriously, how the fuck did they get here?

#toe fic 🍅#my fics #gallavich fic #shameless fanfiction

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