#my beautiful daughter who has never done anything wrong in her life | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dancingtotuyo · 1 year ago

Text

Kryptonite | Dave York x Reader | One Shot

Rating: EXPLICIT/Mature

Summary: Running into Dave York changes your life and unleashes a new part of yourself.

Inspired by Kryptonite by 3 Doors Down

Tags: dark!Dave York, infidelity, Germany, song fic

Warnings: infidelity, violence and descriptions of violence, death (not Dave or reader), descriptions of blood, murder, self defense, explicit smut (p in v), oral sex (both m & f receiving), heavy groping, choking, smacking/hitting in a sexual manner, knife play, power dynamics, use of “daddy” in a sexual manner (minimal), consensual sex, possible dub con, cream pie

Notes: I wrote this one for the LOML @janaispunk for Christmas 🫶, though you won’t find it filled with Christmas festivities! Huge shout out to @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for listening to my ideas, reading through it, and being an overall huge encourager!

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PAY EXTRA ATTENTION TO WARNINGS ON THIS ONE

Words: 7160

THIS STORY CONTAINS EXPLICIT CONTENT AND DARK THEMES. IT IS NOT INTENDED FOR THOSE UNDER 18 YEARS OF AGE. MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT

“I took a walk around the world to ease my troubled mind.”

Dave York isn’t a bad guy. If one were to give him a chance, he would explain how he’s actually one of the good guys. He’s simply standing up for those who have been wronged by the fucked up system that abandoned the ones who do the dirty work. It’s all conjecture. How he rationalizes it all away. How he lets himself sleep at night, and go home to his wife and beautiful daughters. He does this for them. He isn’t a bad guy.

Yet, even he starts to see through his bullshit. He won’t admit it, but it’s getting harder to sleep at night. Tonight is one of those nights. That’s how he finds himself wandering the streets of a German city he can’t remember the name of.

The air is just verging on chilly, the breeze whipping at his typically well-kempt hair. He usually keeps to the shadows when he’s managing his side business, worried about being picked up on a camera, but it’s late now. He keeps out of the street lights, the stars shielded by the light pollution.

He inhales deeply. This time tomorrow he’ll be on a flight back to the States and slide into bed next to his wife. He’ll wake up, make lunch for the girls, and take them to school. The perfect all-American family. Dave loves them. His girls are his world. He is doing this for them. Every smile and giggle makes this all worth it. Alice and Molly deserve the world. Sometimes, he wonders if his wife knows. Carol hasn’t said anything, but sometimes he catches her just staring at him. Logic says she just loves him. How many times early on in their life together had he done the same thing? How long has it been since he looked at her with that awe?

If he’s honest, Dave doesn’t give his marriage much thought anymore. It’s something that’s just there like two planets orbiting each other but never intersecting. It’s something that’s just part of the persona of Dave York. The version of him his friends and family know. He is starting to wonder if that man still exists. He’s found himself feeling freer during his “work trips” than he does at home.

If it weren’t for his girls…

Dave can’t finish the thought as he collides with a woman in a blue dress and billowing feather boas wrapped around her neck. You.

“Oh shit!” Dave’s hands shoot out, steadying your form, one on each shoulder.

You let out a soft snort quickly covering it with a giggle. “Oh my god.” You try to sober but fail before another giggle takes over. You buzz with the carefree energy of someone a couple drinks into the evening but not wasted.

Any words forming in Dave’s head die there. Your eyes sparkle with mischief. Your smile leaves him stunned. He’s seen his fair share of women even as a married man, but never crossed the boundary of infidelity. Dave doesn’t label what is about to happen as infidelity because right now he isn’t Dave York from Arlington, Virginia, father to two and husband. Right now, he’s Dave York private gun for hire, or Patrick Smith born in Pennsylvania if you looked at his passport.

“I’m sorry,” you say. Dave’s hands don’t move from your shoulders. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

Dave flashes a smile, the same one he used to pick up Carol years ago, but she’s the furthest thing from his mind right now. “I should be more aware of my surroundings. Especially with such a beautiful woman about.”

Your cheeks flush with heat. He has a sneaking suspicion that it’s not from the alcohol in your system. Dave has never been above sweet-talking to get his way during his time with the agency. “You’re American.”

“Unfortunately, yes.” Dave winks. You laugh. Dave swears he could listen to that sound every day if given the chance. “But are you with anyone? It’s late. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you out here all alone.”

You tilt your head to the side, life glowing in your eyes. Whether you’re always like this or it’s all alcohol-induced, Dave doesn’t know, but he wants to find out. He needs to know.

“And I’m supposed to trust you, Mr. America.”

He chuckles, looking up at the sky for a moment before bringing his gaze back to you. He can’t stop taking you in. You feel like a breath of fresh air in his stifling life. He smiles, the first time he’s felt fully himself in possibly years. “My name is Dave.”

You glance between his hand and his face, sussing out if he is trustworthy. He seems so, comes across as genuine. He’s a bit older than you, but handsome nonetheless with big brown eyes and the sincerity of a well-raised child.

You inhale deeply, choosing to be a little wreckless for once and jump head first into something. What’s the worst that could happen? You take his hand.

“I watched the world float to the dark side of the moon.”

It’s probably a stupid choice, but Dave gives you his number. His real number. He doesn't have enough time to see you again before he leaves Germany and he isn’t ready to let this go yet. He escorts you safely to your apartment, chatting idly over the 10-minute walk and the 30 minutes you spend on the front stoop. As he goes to leave, you stand on tiptoes, pressing your lips against his. In return, he pushes you against the front door, hands roaming up your sternum. You giggle at him like a smitten schoolgirl and hand him your phone.

Dave has a second number. He could’ve given you that one. He probably should have, but he wants easier access. He risks it. Dave is not a careless man, but he leans into the easiness of it in the moment. He kisses you again before leaving, much more chastely this time. He promises to see you next time he’s in town. He tells you he does business in Germany often. It won’t be long.

His veins buzzed with electricity the whole walk back to his apartment, his body alive in a way that feels almost supernatural. As he crosses the threshold, his phone pings with a text from an unknown number. Dave knows who it is before he looks at the text.

Over the next two weeks, Dave finds himself instantly reaching for his phone with each ping. The time difference is a pain in the ass but sometimes works in Dave’s favor. Like when Carol is sound asleep and you’re wide awake across the sea.

When the call comes through from a contact that they’re ready to move in on a target in Germany, Dave almost jumps up in celebration. He’s never hit the tarmac with his bags packed so fast. He tacks on a couple extra days to visit you.

Those extra days can’t come soon enough. He always prides himself on his ability to compartmentalize. He can tune out the rest of the world, get a job done with the precision of the assassin he is, and return to life as if nothing happened, but this time, he finds himself rushing through the process, eager to get to the finish line, eager to get to you.

However, when the night of the hit comes, he slips right into Dave York The Killer, cold, heartless, robotic. The crew is smaller this trip, the target not as high profile, but still a big payout. He forces himself to stay steady, forces himself not to speed through his progressions. The team doesn’t notice a difference in him. He takes that as a good sign. The target is asleep, alone, thank god.

Dave slides the knife into the victim’s chest. He’s lying if he says he doesn’t find a particular beauty in it. The firm pressure, the slice of the knife, the crimson blood. It’s always a rush, the planning, the practice, the kill, and Dave enjoys it all. This particular hit sends an extra rush of pleasure through his veins.

He takes the train to get to you, fighting the urge to show up on your doorstep in the wee hours of the morning. Dave York is not a patient man, but he somehow manages, pacing his hotel room still as he buzzes with the high of the night’s hit and the excitement of seeing you in the morning. You recommended meeting at a small cafe, but as Dave lays awake with the sun peeking through the curtains, he decides to surprise you at the apartment.

Dave has to force himself not to rush, which seems to be becoming a theme with him. He makes himself a cup of coffee in the hotel room and sits down drinking every drop until he can’t stand to wait any longer, leaving his hotel 30 minutes before he needs to.

Dave could’ve taken time to enjoy the city in daylight. He spends so much of his time in these destinations under the cover of darkness, missing the beauty, but he doesn't. He wants to believe he keeps to his training, keeping an eye out for someone following him and staying out of the view of cameras, but the truth is, he’s completely unaware of it all. His sole purpose is to get to you.

When your apartment building comes into view, he finally slows, aware of how early he is. Hell, he’s supposed to meet you there.

One of your curtains is open, giving him a faraway view into your apartment. Dave has fully accepted that he’s verging into creep territory, but he doesn’t care. It’s been two weeks since he’s laid eyes on you. That’s two weeks too long for him.

He holds his breath, waiting in anticipation for a glimpse of you, patience dwindling within a few minutes of waiting. The anticipation grows into anxiety. Did he come to the wrong building? That’s impossible. Dave never forgets places, even if he did, he would never forget yours. Are you home? Did you forget? He studies the window searching for any evidence of life. Has something happened to you? Oh god, has someone connected the two of you? Figured out his whole facade? He has half a mind to break down the door and go in guns blazing.

His phone pings. It’s the only thing that could break his concentration. Your name pops up, granting him instant relief.

See you in 20?

He smiles, glancing back up toward the window. You are okay. Everything is okay because Dave is a smart man. He knows how to cover his tracks, and you are a sacred treasure he wants to keep all to himself. He will hide you away, protect you from it all.

He catches the subtle flutter of the curtains. The world around him becomes nonexistent as his full attention is pulled toward the window. She moves into view, head whipping around as you search for a specific item. He smiles, all of the anxiety leaving his body.

Instead of responding via text, he hits the call button. The dial tone plays against his ear. She moves out of view, no doubt searching for her cell.

“Hello?”

A smile overtakes his face. Dave can’t remember the last time one did so effortlessly. “Look out your window, Darling.”

His voice sits low in his chest, sending shivers through your body. You pull back the curtain. Dave waves down below. “Are you stalking me now?”

“It’s not stalking if you showed me where you live.”

You bite back your smile, heat gathering in your cheeks. “We were supposed to meet there.”

“I couldn’t wait.”

“Give me two minutes.” You say and the line goes dead.

Dave watches you zip away from the window. The swinging of the curtains is the only indication you were ever there. His chest tightens as he waits. Dave York considers himself a patient man, but he checks his watch for the 5th time in two minutes.

Then your door swings open. You come barreling toward him, a smile plastered to your face. It’s contagious as Dave chuckles, spinning you around like an episode of The Bachelor. His lips are warm against your cheek. “I’ve missed you, darling.”

A shiver runs down your spine as your feet plant on the ground. Dave’s warm brown eyes meet yours. “How can you miss someone you’ve hardly seen?”

“How can someone not miss you?” He laughs, fingers weaving with yours.

“You lie, Dave.”

“I could never lie to you.” He winks.

Dave holds your hand all the way to the cafe. He pays for your meal. He’s engaging, charming, making conversation, desperate to know everything he can about you. You’ve never felt such intention from another person.

After the cafe, you walk through town, hand in hand in broad daylight. The conversation continues to flow as naturally as a river. Dave is captivated. There’s no other word for it. He wants you. He never wants to leave. He thinks he may need you for survival.

You steer your steps toward your apartment. There’s a time and a place for subtlety. Today is not that. Dave picks up on it, catching the dilation of your pupils, feeling the shift between you.

But when you make it to the door, Dave plays the gentleman, asking when he can see you again. You cut him off with a kiss, tongue quickly delving into his mouth. His large hands plant solidly on your hips. You pull him inside. Dave remains respectful, but commanding. You eagerly submit to him. He stays the night.

“After all I knew it had to be something to do with you.”

Dave is losing it. One might argue that’s a bad thing. He’s not so sure as his mind is overrun with flashes of you. He’s quick to check his phone each time it dings. He knows better than to assign you a specific tone, but he wants to, even knows which one he would choose.

His team is building quite the reputation in the gun for hire business. They’re turning down jobs, having to play the cautious game of balancing their time between murder and families. They can’t arouse suspicions. They take turns staying stateside, sending in different crews depending on the job and need. Dave accepts every job within a quick train ride of you. He goes on each one. Sometimes it’s just him. Those are the easiest. He doesn’t even need to tell the team. It makes it easy to slip in, add more red to his ledger, and run to you with his hands dripping, metaphorically of course.

He can never stay more than the weekend, usually no more than a night, but you take every moment. He’s a drug you crave, an addiction you can’t kick. In fact, you don’t want to. It doesn’t matter if you never get more than a stolen night here and there, you’ll take whatever you can get running your hands over his toned muscles, tracing the scars littered over his body, some new and red, some old and faded.

It gives him an air of danger that sends a rush through you each time, like there’s darkness embedded in each scar and it seeps into you. The feeling should unnerve you. It doesn’t.

You want to ask, but you bite your tongue. They seem almost glaring compared to the person you know. Dave is sweet and gentle. The most violence you’ve seen in him is the intense fly hunt you went on last weekend as it buzzed intently around the two of you on the couch. You wonder about the stories behind each nonetheless. He’ll tell you when he’s ready.

He leaves again. He always does with the promise of returning soon. He can’t give you a date. He never can. His phone rings as he walks out the door. You catch the flash of a couple on his screen and a woman’s name drops from his lips. He doesn’t know you see it. Carol.

“But still your secrets I will keep”

You’re drenched. Sweat gathers across your naked skin. Dave thrusts into your dripping pussy, cock soaked in your juices. Your moans marry together, echoing off the walls of your apartment at 2 o'clock on a Thursday afternoon.

You called out of work when he appeared on your doorstep without a warning. He seemed broody, crashing his lips onto yours with more force than you were used to, setting your body ablaze in a new way.

Dave’s hips snap into yours with greater force than usual, his grip a little tighter, but it doesn’t hurt. Not how you expect it to. You like it, this rough side, the way his large hand pins both your arms to the mattress. “You’re taking me so good, Darling. Like a good little girl.”

His words strike a chord within you. Your walls tighten around him. You’re close. You know it. He knows it. His fingers run through your sopping folds, flicking at your clit with skill and precision. Your back arches. You feel like you need to crawl out of your skin. “I’m almost there.”

“I know, baby.” He keeps pace, pushing you closer and closer.

The invisible line snaps as waves of pleasure roll over your body. Dave keeps going, so close to his own release. He’s relentless, prolonging your own orgasm.

“I want to finish inside you. Fill you up like a dirty little whore.” Your cunt clenches around him. You’re not sure why his words affect you the way they do, but you love it. He moans. “Please, Darling.”

“Yes,” You hiss, feeling as if your orgasm has started over. “Please, fill me up.”

“Fuck!” Dave thrusts into you. Once. Twice. And then he buries himself into you, filling you with every drop he has.

Once the high settles to a mild thrum and you’ve cleaned up, you sit on the bed, fresh sheets below you, watching Dave as he gathers his things off your dresser. The sex was different this time, good, mind altering.

Dave has yet to put a shirt on. There’s a scar along his back that disappears beneath the waistband on his jeans. You’ve seen it before. You know all his scars, and you’re gathering his secrets too.

“I hope that wasn’t too much,” Dave says, back still turned to you. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he turns to you, with worried eyes. You saw a piece of him today that no one has seen before. Of that, you have no doubt.

“No, I liked it.” A small smirk quirks your lips. “I wouldn’t be opposed to trying some new things.” Heat pools in your belly again. That same darkness flashes in Dave’s eyes. You want to pull it out and learn it.

He chuckles. “I’ll keep that in mind for later.”

He pulls on his shirt, turning his phone back on. Your heart drops, popping the bubble. “You can’t stay.”

Dave sighs. You catch the guilt hanging off of him. “I’m sorry, Darling.”

“It’s okay…”

Dave bites his lip. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise. I-”

“I know you’re married.” It rolls off your lips without a second thought. You’re not sure where it comes from.

Dave’s face pales, tongue going dry as sandpaper. “Darling-”

“And I don’t care.”

The color fills his face again as he steps over to you. “How do you know?”

You shrug, laying back on the bed. “She called you when you were leaving last time. I did my research, Dave York.”

Dave isn’t sure what to think. In his line of work, it’s scary to know you found him on the internet. It’s a safety issue. If something ever happened to Molly and Alice… but he’s trusted you with much more than anyone else.

“You mean it? You don’t care?” He searches your eyes for any doubt, but finds none.

“You’re the one traveling across the ocean to see me. I also think you’re not just ‘working for the government’.”

There’s a deep growl low in his throat. He oozes evil like your favorite book to movie villain, sending shivers through your body. He cups your neck, using force to pull your lips to his. It’s hot and needy like he didn’t just spend the afternoon buried inside of you. His tongue shoves its way into your mouth, fighting with yours. He grabs your ass kneading it in his palms.

Then, he pulls away, voice gravely in your ear. “One of these days I’m going to tell you every single evil thing I’ve done, and you’re going to like it.”

You gasp, toes curling. He keeps eye contact with you, searching for any sign that you might reject him for it. You don’t ask. You don’t scoff. You believe him. You’ve seen the slivers of evil before, felt them. You’re beginning to wonder if they’ve seeped into you too.

Then he’s gone, disappearing like a ghost.

“I picked you up and put you back on solid ground.”

Adrenaline pumps through your veins. Your heart pounds in your ear. You can’t tell much in the dark, except there’s a man in your apartment, clad in black, and it’s not Dave.

You clutch the kitchen knife to your chest, thankful for Dave’s obsession with keeping things sharp. His boots are steady on your hardwood floors, leaving you to wonder if you’re safe huddled in the corner, or if you should sneak up behind him. Dave taught you to attack only if you are sure you can land a debilitating blow by surprise. You’re not a trained fighter. You’re not an assassin. You’re pretty sure Dave is.

Then, you see your chance. A small opportunity where you know you’ll be hidden in the darkness, not exposed by the open window. You know which floor boards to avoid.

You expect it to go by in a blur, but your mind feels clear. The exposed point on his neck calls to you like a beacon. The artery. He’ll bleed out before he knows what’s happening. Dave’s voice echoes in your head.

Your knife sinks into his neck, slicing skin and tissue like it’s softened butter. You pull the knife out, it drips with crimson blood. He tumbles forward, your lamp shattering into a million tiny pieces as he falls forward.

“You bitch!” He manages to his feet, blood spurting out of his neck. He tries to cover it with his hand, but he’s already losing color in his face. He stumbles toward you. You easily step out of his path, sinking the knife into his chest cavity. It’s more difficult, but you know when you hit his lung.

You watch him fall to the floor, air wheezing from him like a punctured balloon as he coughs and sputters. He’s trying to speak, but can’t. You cock your head to the side, watching it happen, watching the life drain from his eyes, listening to his final breaths. You did that. You took down a man bigger than yourself with two quick blows, without hesitation.

You can feel the thick, red blood dripping off your fingers, soaking into your clothes.Your chest heaves. The knife clatters to the floor. You turn your hands over. You should want this off of you, scratching at the skin to remove it. Instead, you just stare in awe.

Dave appears, heart racing as he takes in the scene. He was gone for only a few hours. A quick job in a neighboring town. “Darling?”

You don’t respond, still inspecting your coated hands. He puts a hand on your shoulder, desperate to know that you’re okay. You jump, eyes blow wide.

“What happened?”

“I don't know. I woke up and he was here… I just- I did what you taught me.”

Your eyes focus on him. He’s in weird clothes- tactical gear. He probably killed someone tonight too.

“Are you okay?”

Your eyes snap back down to your hands. Are you okay? You don’t remember getting hit or knocked over, just the steel blade sinking into flesh over and over and over.

“Darling, look at me!” His hand wraps around your neck and your back hits the wall.

Your eyes snap to him. Your heavy breaths mingle together in the deafening silence that coats your apartment. His eyes are dark. Darker than you ever remember seeing them. You think, maybe, there’s a hint of cruelty floating in them.

“You’re okay.” His eyes scan over you to assure himself as well. He reminds himself that blood is not yours.

Your eyes drift back toward the body. The body that used to house a person with a life and family and-

“Look at me.” Dave’s voice is commanding, forcing obedience. The other side of him is coming out. This is not the Dave you know. It’s the one you’ve caught glimpses of. The one he told you about. This Dave is a monster. A monster you should run from.

“You did nothing wrong. He would’ve killed you.” His hand presses into your neck again. “You did the right thing.”

You thought this moment would break you, losing your Dave, but this Dave is yours too. You thought the monster would scare you. It’s everything you’ve ever stood against, but you want the monster.

A thrill shoots through you, unlocking a deep urge. The world should be blurry, hazing like the TV shows when someone experiences a trauma, but it’s buzzing around you instead. Your senses feel heightened.

Dave says your name. You look up at him. Time stands still. He knows you know. It’s a question of if you will accept it. You shouldn’t. You’re too good for him. He shouldn’t tarnish you, but he catches that look. It’s everything he feels after a kill. The adrenaline rush, the buzz of life through your veins. Maybe he didn’t tarnish you. Maybe he unlocked something in you. Your bloodied hands tangle in his thick hair as he surges forward lips colliding with yours.

This is wrong, so wrong. Another man’s blood is literally on your hands as they tangle in Dave’s hair. You should be disgusted with yourself. This is wicked. You’ve run from the wickedness your entire life. Now you feel like you should have embraced it. He bites your lip, so hard there’s a metallic taste in your mouth. It only spurs you on. A familiar ache grows in your core. Your teeth nash against his, meeting each of his tortuous movements.

His hand squeezes your neck just enough to make your head go dizzy. You should hate this. You should despise this, but your cunt clenches again. “You like that don’t you?”

He loosens his hold, the blood rushing back quickly. It’s a new rush, crashing over the edges of your heightened senses. You feel as if every nerve ending in your body is on fire and you never want it to stop.

His rough voice presses to your ear as he caresses your exposed neck reminding you how fragile your own life is. “The little slut likes when I get rough.”

You whimper at his words, your underwear growing wetter with each passing second. His knee presses between your thigh, granting some tension to your aching core. You move your hips against it. “Not so fast, Darling.” He tightens his grip on your neck, pressing you further against the wall. “You think just because you killed him you’re in charge now?”

Another whimper falls from your lips. An involuntary tear seascapes the corner of your eyes, beginning its descent. Dave’s eyes flicker to it, head cocking to the side. His eyes look different- wild verging on insane. You should be scared, but it’s still Dave. You trust him. Then his tongue is against your cheek, wiping it away with a long, slow swipe. Your nipples pearl under your thin nightshirt.

He whispers in your ear. “I'm in charge. Do you understand?”

You nod.

“Good.”

He produces a knife out of thin air. It’s one you’ve seen before. He’s sharpened it at your kitchen counter. He brushes the tip along your collarbone. Your eyes track its every movement. It’s not enough to cut you, but enough that you can feel how sharp it is. Your heart thuds harder, but your hips move against his knee of their own accord.

He clicks his tongue, forcing the knife down in a single swift movement. You cry out, expecting to feel pain, only to find your chest exposed and your nightshirt torn down the middle. He hand gropes your breast, squeezing it like a stress ball. A gasp falls from your lips as his finger runs over your nipple.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

By your neck, he leads you in front of him to the bathroom. He kicks the door shut, pressing you against it. He produces the knife again, running it through your pajama shorts. The scraps fall to the floor, leaving you in the delicate lace pair of underwear you wore in anticipation of Dave’s arrival.

His tongue clicks appreciatively. The tip of the knife traces over the lace. You whimper, eyes falling closed. He falls to his knees.

“So pretty.” Dave presses his mouth to your clothes cunt. He works his tongue over the thin fabric, pulling it between his teeth. It’s just enough to tease and not enough to provide relief.

“Dave.” It comes out so hoarse you don’t recognize your own voice.

He grins up at you, pulling the knife through your underwear with a rehearsed flick of his wrist. They join your shorts on the floor. You’re bared to him while Dave is fully clothed.

You catch the blood in his hair, splattered on his clothes. It’s drying on your skin now. You know you should be repulsed by it, but the thought of what you did still makes you buzz to life.

“Stay right there.” He eases to his feet. “I mean it. Don’t move.”

He turns on the shower, pushing the hot water all the way. As steam starts to fill the room, Dave removes his clothing item by item. He’s not making a show of it per se, but he is commanding, concise. He pulls another knife from his belt and sets it on the counter. Your breath catches and he makes eye contact. A whisper of a smirk plays on his lips. “Standing so still for me, darling.” You squeeze your legs together, feeling the familiar squelching between your vaginal lips.

You eye the knife a moment longer, biting your lip. Something about it calls out your name. You’re not sure if you should grab it and find the nearest person to plunge it into or if you want Dave to use it with you, on you.

Dave catches the glimmer in your eyes as you eye it. A newfound excitement tugs in his belly. A whole new world is opening before him. One where he doesn’t have to hide all this shit from you, one where you might enjoy it too. You’re not shutting down after killing that man, his body cooling on your living room floor. You liked it. He likes it.

He kicks off his boots and socks. His pants follow. Your eyes travel over his body. The scars make sense now. You still don’t know what Dave does, but you know it’s bad. There’s a small band across his ankle that houses another knife. You should hate him for all of this, kick him to the curb. Instead, your cunt is soaking, and you’re not sure you’ve ever wanted him more.

He chuckles as you eye the knife on his ankle. It’s the only thing he wears other than his briefs now. His dick bulges, usually pulling your attention, put you can’t pull your eyes away from the knife.

Pulling off his underwear, Dave comes back over to you, pressing his body against yours. His teeth scrape over the veins of your neck and he bites down on your earlobe as his hand tangles in your hair.

You release a soft yell. You barely recognize the man in front of you, but it doesn’t matter.

He grips your thigh, hiking it over his hip, running his dick through your sopping cunt.

“You like my knives, Darling?”

You nod as pleasure plays like a movie across your body.

He gips your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Use your words.”

“Yes.” It barely comes out.

His brows raise in amusement. “Would you like me to use them?”

“You won’t hurt me.” You say it as a statement.

Flashes of his softer side show before he clamps them down. “I won’t hurt you.”

“Yes.” It’s almost a yell.

Without hesitation, he grabs the knife off the vanity, pressing it to your neck. “On your knees.”

You obey coming face to face with his hard cock. The knife stays against your delicate flesh.

“You know what to do, baby.”

Again, you obey, taking it into your mouth. The knife is cool against your neck, the only reminder it’s still there. You don’t know how it never pierces your flesh either by dumb luck or expert skill.

Dave’s hips thrust forward, almost triggering your gag reflex. Tears fall from your eyes. Curses sputter from Dave’s lips as he uses your mouth. “Such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

You breathe from your nose, forcing yourself to nod.

“Shit!” Dave curses, pulling out of your mouth. “I’m going to paint that pretty pussy of yours.”

Your cunt clenches as a small moan tumbles from your lips. He chuckles, hand closing around your neck once more as he ushers you into the shower.

The water is hot, burning against your skin as if it might melt your skin off. Dave holds you under the water. Your breath catches as your body screams out. The water beneath you runs red as the blood washes from your skin.

Your back hits the cool tile wall granting relief from the scalding water. He lathers soap over the parts of your body still stained red, fingers occasionally brushing under your breasts, tweaking nipples.

“You’re so beautiful, darling. Even covered in blood.”

You whimper again, senses overloaded from the trauma, the rush, the teasing. “Dave, please.”

“Please what? You have to use your words, Doll.”

Your walls constrict again, desperate to be around something. Your arms and legs are heavy with need. He’s never used that term with you before. It should be degrading. It is, but it sets another wave of pleasure. You wonder if it’s possible to orgasm virtually untouched. If it is, you’re close.

“Fuck me.”

His tongue clicks as he floats around yours, almost taunting you. He grabs your boob, hard enough it should hurt. It does a little, but pleasure overrides the pain.

“Ask nicely, Doll.”

His finger trails over your collarbone traveling between your breasts and down across your hip. Your thighs squeeze. His palm slips around as he grabs the back of your thigh, kneading it.

“I said.” His words come out like a punch. Concise. Almost sharp. “Ask. Nicely.” He pushes your thigh over his waist, forcing your supportive leg to your tiptoes.

You feel his cock near your entrance, brushing your pussy lips. You moan, hips bucking. He pushes against your neck, running your head into the tiles behind you. “You little slut. You think you can just take it.”

You gasp. “Please.”

“What do you want?”

“I want your cock inside me, Daddy.” It tumbles out of your lips before your brain catches up.

He thrusts his cock into you, sheathing himself fully, hitting the deepest parts of you. Then he’s gone, making you feel empty but only for a second until he enters you again. His hand squeezes tighter around your neck. You come for air as he continuously splits you apart thrust by thrust, pulling out almost fully each time.

Your moans are loud, drowned out by the steaming shower. Tears gather in the corners of your eyes. Dave pays you little mind, shows little care as he continues with a brutality you’ve never encountered, a brutality that only makes you soak his cock. He doesn’t slow. You don’t want him to. He never touches your clit, but you're propelling forward, chasing that high in a way you never have.

The pitch of your voice steps up. The spasm starts in your stomach traveling down to your core as you flutter around Dave’s cock. Your supporting leg shakes. Still, he never eases up, working you through your orgasm.

It hits you like a punch to the gut, a scream piercing the air. Your scream. Dave doesn’t stop. He doesn’t stutter. He keeps pace, chasing his own release.

With each thrust, you yell. You hear the squelching of your sopping cunt against his dick over the roar of the shower. His continuous movements extend your release until he finally buries himself inside you, coating your pussy with his cum. “Such a perfect little doll for me.”

You let out a final whimper as he pulls around, dropping your leg. Your knees buckle. You barely keep yourself upright, legs tingling and shaking.

Dave kisses your cheek. The softness causes a sense of whiplash. He glances over your body, making sure the blood is cleared from your skin and hair. He rinses the blood from his hair as your brain slowly returns to the world. You expect to be exhausted, and you are, but there’s still that low buzz deep within your body.

You killed a man. You took a life. You should feel bad. There’s a fucking body in your living room, but all you can think about is the rush. You liked it. Watching Dave, you wonder if he feels the same way. There’s no doubt to you that he’s taken lives before. You wonder if he knows how many.

The water stops. Dave dries you off with the soft bath towel. He helps you into his soft white t-shirt and tucks you into bed.

“I need to make a call.” He kisses your head and shuts himself in your bathroom. You hear him on the phone, but his words are muffled by the door.

You lay on your back, sheets cool against your hot skin. Staring at the ceiling, you can still feel the blood dripping from your hands, hear the piercing of the knife. You heart rate picks up. What would it be like to do that again? Would you feel the same rush of adrenaline? Would it feel better?

Dave comes out, tossing his cell on the nightstand and sliding under the covers. His hand covers yours.

“What about…?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s taken care of.”

You don’t ask. He probably knows people. His fingers drift over your cheeks and jaw. They skim lower, following the same path down your neck as your arteries. They feel cool against your skin, drawing patterns where you anticipate bruises tomorrow.

“Did I hurt you?”

He’s almost back to the Dave you know, soft and kind, but you still catch the edges of his dark side. He’s more of a blend now. You think you might be getting the real, true Dave now.

“No,” you shake your head. There was pain. You’ll be sore tomorrow, sport a few scrapes and bruises, but it doesn’t feel like he hurt you.

Dave kisses your forehead, fingers tracing your collarbone now. A question forms in your head, gnawing at the corners of your brain.

“Dave?”

“Hmmm?” He sees distracted, entranced as he follows his hand over your skin, skimming the tops of your breasts. Your nipples tighten making you curl your toes with a familiar tug of desire. How are you ready to go again after that?

“What if I liked it?”

His eyebrow quirks. “The sex?” he pinches your hardened nipple making you gasp.

“All of it?”

His palm stops. The pitch of his voice deepens. “All of it?”

You bite your lip, nodding.

“Use your words, Doll.” He cups your breath, teasing your nipple more. His breath is hot in your ear. “Tell me what you like.”

“I-” Can you really say this out loud? Will it blacken your soul? Or is it already charred and damned.

“Tell me.” He smacks your chest like a parent might smack their child’s hand away from an electrical outlet.

Your pussy clenches as you squeeze your legs together. He smacks your other breast in the same manner. You gasp, practically yelling out your answer. “Killing him.”

The air stands still. For a second, you expect a look of disgust to cross Dave’s face. Instead, a smirk grows. “You liked that?”

You nod, not able to say anything else. Dave climbs on top of you, kicking away the covers. He pushes his hand up your sternum, kneading your breast before running it back down. He repeats the motion, rotating between the two. Moans grow in your chest. He bites your earlobe.

“Did you like the way the knife slid into him?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Dave growls in your ear.

“Yes, Daddy,” you repeat between moans. Your sopping hole drips onto the sheets below you. Dave’s motions steadily grow in intensity.

“Did my doll like the way her body felt alive? Like you absorbed that bastard's energy.”

Tears drop from your eyes. You want him again. You need him again. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Does my doll want to do it again?”

“Yes, Daddy.” You practically scream. You should be ashamed of the answer. You should be ashamed that there isn’t an ounce of hesitation in your being.

“Fuck,” Dave says, shoving your legs apart. He pushes his cock inside you again. “Don’t worry, darling. I’ll make sure you will.”

Dave moves inside you. It’s not as violent, not as torturous as earlier, but it’s just as satisfying. The promise of more ignites a fire inside of you.

Dave takes you to the brink, pushing you until you pass out from exhaustion, spent, used, and sated.

“I’ll keep you by my side with my superhuman might.”

When you wake up the next morning, the body is gone. The lamp you broke is replaced and a new area rug is delicately placed in your apartment. Not a speck or splatter of blood can be found anywhere. Dave stands in the kitchen gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips. He cooks eggs on the stovetop and a steaming cup of coffee sits on the counter.

You wrap your arms around him. He hums. His skin is warm beneath your cheek, heart beating against your palm. “I like the rug.”

“Me too.”

“Kryptonite”

#dave york #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york x female reader #dark!dave york #dark!fic #pedro pascal #the equalizer 2

86 notes · View notes

a-heart-attack-ow · 6 months ago

Text

The Arrangement. Part Fifteen

Part Fourteen

Part Fifteen:

Colby's Pov

I'd never wanted things to be like this. I never asked for the pain and torment that came along with every decision I made. Every consequence had to be kept inside of me, so many secrets that I felt like I might tear apart at the seams. I didn't know how I hadn't yet, but I didn't. There were so many things that no one knew about me, so many awful choices that I couldn't undo. So many sins I needed to atone for. For years I truly believed that every choice I made had been because I'd been forced to make it. That it was my family's doing and I was helpless to play along. A part of me still felt that way, my position as CEO had shifted things in my life. Sometimes I had to allow the bad decisions to happen, sometimes I let the board get away with murder. It was all a part of the game. The delicate balance of being a leader and trying to make everyone happy. It was an impossible job, but it was her approval that meant the most to me. Even though I knew that, if she knew everything, she wouldn't approve. But there were some things that my job demanded and I had to do it, regardless of what my sweet wife wanted.

The thought of her sweet face, her wide-eyed gaze, causes a pang of guilt to move through me. I'd done terrible things before she came into my life and I still did terrible things that she couldn't know about.I think about her on an endless loop as my eyes glance down on the stack of documents strewn across my desk. I'm sitting in the darkness of my home office with a glass of whiskey in my hand as I comb through the endless data reports that never seemed to cease. I can feel a migraine coming on as my phone goes off, the screen lighting up with a text message from Sam. My brow furrows as I glance at the text that reads; "Just got word that the package was secured. No Witnesses." The tension in my head and shoulders has me in knots but I try not to think of what the message and what it meant. Shea had threatened my family when she spoke to my wife, could've ruined everything if she leaked the video of the two of us, and she had to be dealt with. My eyes close at the thought, a lump in my throat forming.

Death was all around me, ever since I was old enough to work for the family business. I tried to remind myself that this death wasn't my fault. I didn't order the hit, they did. I cover my mouth as I breathe a deep breath, my anxiety suddenly spiking. I never wanted anything to happen to my ex. I knew she'd tried to harm my family, but that didn't mean I was alright with what just happened. I prayed that whatever hitman the board had hired had completed their objective quickly and without pain. With trembling hands I bring the glass of whiskey to my lips and drink down the full contents of the glass all at once. It burns my throat, but it numbs some of the pain I was feeling. The sadness of what had just happened.

Another secret that I had to keep from my wife.

Guilt continues to tug at my heartstrings as I hear her in the other room, she's singing to our daughter as they finish up cooking dinner. Mentally I can picture her beautiful face as she holds our three-year-old in her arms and sings to her. I can see my daughter, who looks like my mini-me watching her mother in fascination. Like she's a real life princess with a heart of gold. Which she was, Emilia was a princess with a heart of gold. I'd never known someone who cared more for other people. She undid all the bad I put into the world and I still didn't know what I'd done to deserve her. I'd done everything wrong in my life, but she and our daughter were the only parts of my life that were good. I'm taken out of my deep thoughts when I hear a knock at my office door. A hesitant knock that seemed to be worried about disturbing me from my work. A disturbance that I welcomed.

"Come In."

I rasp, putting on my nicest smile. Pushing down the heartache of tonight, my shame. Her green-eyes meet mine from the doorway when she opens it, our daughter on her hip. She has her long dark hair up in a clip, her apron stained red with tomato sauce.

"Tell daddy what you wanted to tell him."

She whispers to our daughter, her smile wide as she looks down at Eleanor. Eleanor, who glances back at me with a big smile so wide it makes my heart melt. My daughter had me wrapped around her finger and she knew it. She throws her tiny arms up in the air like she's riding a roller coaster and announces excitedly;

"Daddy, dinner is ready! And the uncles are here!"

Her voice is so sweet, it almost makes the lump that had been in my throat return. I think of what it would be like if my daughter got mixed up with a bad man in the future. What it would be like if that bad man had worse men working above him. Men who could choose to silence her without a trace. I think of what that would be like to lose her the way Shea's family was going to lose her. The guilt builds up inside of me and tears start to form in my eyes without warning. Immediately, Emilia notices, her beautiful face contorting to genuine concern. She looks at Eleanor and whispers;

"Go find Uncle Jake, okay? Tell him mama needs to speak with daddy for a few minutes."

Eleanor looks up at her mother, glances back at me and nods. Emilia puts her down and waits for the pitter patter of Eleanor's little feet to carry her down the hallway before closing the door behind her. Without missing a beat, she walks towards me. Once she reaches me, she sits on the corner of my desk, her legs brushing mine as her green eyes stare down at me.

"What's happened?"

She asks softly, her hands reaching out to move some of my hair out of my face. She studies me closely and I know that I'm supposed to lie to her, but I don't think that I can. I already kept so much from her to protect her, but I can't. I run my hands over her apron covered hips before I guide her into my lap. She doesn't speak as I hold onto her with everything I have, my hands keeping a firm hold as if she’ll slip through my fingers if I don't.

"The board made a decision on what to do about our Shea problem and followed through with it. She won't be a problem anymore."

My words hang in the air gravely, my voice lifeless. In my arms, I feel her body stiffen for a moment. In caution, her eyes search mine, her lips pulling into a tight line. For a moment I think she's going to get off of my lap and flip out on me, but she doesn't. Instead, she looks at me and mulls over what I've just told her. Her gaze is gentle as she places her hands on either side of my face.

"I'm sorry."

Her words break me and the tears I'd formed only seem to get worse as I let out a quiet sob. I wasn't in love with Shea anymore, but I never dreamed something this awful would happen to her. That the board would want to go this far, especially since her father was on the board. It had been his decision after all. I didn't want to believe this would happen, but it did. Emilia pulls me in against her, my head on her chest as her fingers find my hair. She lets me fall apart and breathes with me. Her touch is light and comforting as she plays with my hair. After a few minutes she starts to hum a soothing melody, her warmth making me feel safe.

"Colby, I am so sorry that this happened. I wish that it hadn't."

I wish it hadn't either. In the past few years I'd suffered three major deaths and it was weighing on me. This, paired with my job, made me feel so isolated. I felt like I was constantly trying to keep my head above the water, but I didn't know what to do. Once you were in this job, there was no getting out. You just had to play along and outlive the bastards who made life Hell.

"Thank you for being here."

I rasp, breathing her in. The scent of her perfume only added to the comfort I was feeling. I lift my head from her chest and study her face. I study the fullness of her lips, the sharpness of her jawline, the arch of her eyebrows, and the individual freckles on her face. Each feature is beautiful. Her head tilts to the side as she studies me. A small smile tugs at the corners of her lips.

"There is nowhere else, I'd rather be. I'm here for you Colbs, through everything..."

She pauses, her full lips resting against the top of my forehead in a quick little kiss.

"... I think we should do something to honor her legacy..."

She pauses once more when she sees the look on my face. The look of honest confusion of how we would honor Shea the best. Emilia leans in once more to give my forehead another kiss.

"... Just think about it. You don't have to make a decision today, but think about it. You'll know when you make the best decision."

Her faith in me feels nice, but I doubted I could make a good decision without some sort of guidance. I didn't exactly have the best track record with that. I'd always been the screw-up in my family and I was still trying my best to change that. The look on her face tells me that she sees the mental struggle going through my head. She gives me a small smile before pressing her lips to mine softly, a gesture that always takes my breath away. A gesture, had we not had a dinner to get to, that would've resulted with me fucking her senselessly.

"Come join everyone for dinner Colbs..."

She whimpers against my lips as I reach out and lightly grab the back of her neck. A flicker of desire enters her eyes for a moment before she pushes the feeling down.

".. I worry about you working in here all day without anyone else. I know it's lonely, but you're not alone."

I knew she worried. I knew she worried because she would come and check on me multiple times a day. She'd make snacks or drag me out to each lunch with her and Eleanor. It wasn't that I didn't want to join them, it was just hard to balance between who I had to be for work and who I was when I was with my girls. My wife and my little bug were such positive forces that it was almost difficult to stay in character when I was around them for too long. The cold leader role wasn't something I wanted to play, but needed to be to keep up with appearances. I nod as she gets off of my lap, her hands in mine as she pulls me from my desk chair. Her five foot nothing frame is so much smaller than my 5'11 frame and I can't help but smile down at her. She's determined though, dragging me with her from my office to the dining room without glancing back. When we emerge into the dining room I'm met by the eyes of my associates, then men that had become brothers to me.

"Yay! Mama got daddy out of the dungeon."

Eleanor shouts from her seat next to Jake, they'd been sitting out here with the table set and food ready while they waited for us. Sat between Jake and Sam, Eleanor's tiny legs barely hang over the side of the chair. She looks at me proudly from her spot between her two favorite 'uncles' as she calls the men who work under me. I smile over at her and wait until Emilia is sat down before I sit down next to her.

"Yes, Bug mama got me out of the dungeon."

She giggles from her seat as my eyes move to the others who are sitting around this table. The others who all knew what had happened tonight. I can tell by the look on Sam's face that he feels bad about telling me, but it was his job to tell me what the board had decided to do. He wasn't at fault, he was just relaying the message. Corey, Jake, Nate, and Johnnie also peer back at me sympathetically, but I try not to focus on them for too long because I can feel the same twinge of guilt threatening to spill over. Instead, I focus on the spread of food that's been provided for us. The food I knew Emilia had spent hours making. The two huge pans of lasagna, fresh salad, and garlic bread.

"Let's eat."

A smile plays on Emilia's lips as she says this. The others don't wait a second longer before digging in. Jake makes a small plate for Eleanor, which she 'tanks' him for. For several minutes no one speaks as we dig in and take our first few bites of food. I close my eyes as I process every tasty bite, mentally thanking myself for taking Emilia's request to cook for us instead of hiring a whole staff. Growing up my mother never cooked anything herself. Every aspect of parenting she hired someone else to do. We were more like accessories to her when we were little. When Sam and I had gotten older, we became pawn pieces. But Emilia was a great cook, a great wife, and mother. She was great at everything. I look up from my plate to see her talking to Johnnie, laughing at the story he's telling, his face animated. The conversations happening around the table are lively, but I'm just sitting in silence focused on my food until Sam nudges me.

"You good?"

He asks, not trying to pry. Afraid if he does I'll get upset again. The honest answer was that I wasn't alright, but at the same time I was doing okay. Everything was just weird and off today and I didn't know how else to be or feel.

"I'm okay. It's always something Sam. I just want a break from it all."

He nods, biting down on the bottom of his lip as he ponders what to say next. If anyone knew what I was feeling, it would be Sam. We grew up together and as my adopted brother, he was fully aware of the isolation and the struggle to try and be present in these familial moments. He opens his mouth to speak, but stops himself, deciding that doesn't like whatever he is going to say. The truth was, there was no right thing to say. He knew that once you're in this world there's no getting out. We were just unfortunate enough to be born and brought up in this world. We never knew any different and I honestly wondered what we would even do if we could get out of this job. It's all we'd ever known.

The talking happening around the table ceases when Eleanor stands on her chair, everyone looking at her. She has a look of determination on her face as she looks at me.

"Daddy, can you get me a sister?"

Her question sounds so innocent, but it makes the rest of us laugh. I glance over at Emilia and note the way her cheeks redden. She takes a sip of her wine giving me a small smile as Eleanor seems confused by everyone laughing.

"What's funny? I want a sibling. Daddy has Uncle Sam and I want a sibling too."

Her brows furrow, her blue eyes glancing over at all of us in outrage.

"Bug,"

I start, trying hard not to laugh and upset her further.

"Having a sibling is a big responsibility."

Her eyes widened at me, her face still wearing that same look of determination.

"Daddy, I am reponsible."

Her mispronunciation only makes the look on her face that much sweeter. She's pleading with me as if it's my decision to make. I smile at her, noting the way everyone else looks at her.

"Bug, you have to talk to your mom too. She's the one that has to carry the new baby."

Emilia shoots me a playful look, her cheeks still red. As if it's some sort of secret to everyone in the room how we ended up with Eleanor in the first place. I thought it was cute, the way my wife's face would look around so innocently, when I knew better than anyone that she was the furthest thing from innocent. My mind briefly wanders to Emilia and I's interaction in the office just now. The fact that her lips alone could send me over the edge. She seems to read my mind because her face only gets more bashful.

"Mama..."

Eleanor starts, her attention to her mother. Emilia shakes her head and smiles widely, clearly not up for this conversation now.

"Bug, we are going to have to talk about this later. It's a big decision. Daddy and I have to talk about it and see when we're ready."

Eleanor looks down in defeat, clearly unhappy with how this conversation has gone. She gives us both a pout as she sits back down and returns to eating.

"Do you promise to talk about it?"

She asks, shoving a noodle into her mouth. Beside me, Emilia nods, giving Eleanor a look of sympathy. I knew my wife hated to ever let Eleanor down. From the opposite end of the table I hear Corey mumble a faint;

"Sure, they'll 'talk' about it later."

The dual meaning to his words doesn't go unnoticed by Emilia who's face reddens once more. She playfully shoots him a look that makes him smile with his hands up in defense. Thankfully the conversation keeps moving because I think another moment of it would send Emilia over the edge. Her face is bashful as she looks at me. There was something about how innocent she looked that always made me want to corrupt her. Not in a harmful way, but sexually it turned me on. The moment the thought enters my head, I lean over to whisper in her ear, just quiet enough for only her to hear.

"Don't act bashful baby, not when you had your mouth wrapped around my cock seven hours ago."

I can practically hear her heart skip a beat as I kiss the side of her head before pulling back. I returned to my meal without giving her a second glance. I can see her out of the corner of my eye trying to compose her sweet, beautiful, face. From across the table Corey shakes his head at me, smiling wide because he knows I was giving my wife a hard time. She sighs before resuming her conversation with Johnnie, doing her best to ignore all of the embarrassment she's been made to feel. The momentary lightness of conversation helped me feel slight ease, but with the other conversations resuming I can feel the dread bubbling up inside of me. Dread that only worsens as Sam decides to continue our conversation.

"Colby, we've gotten through some really tough times. We just have to keep going. If we give up or let them get to us we let them win."

Sam's words of encouragement should make me feel better, but they don't. Instead, I can't help but wonder if this was how things went with our parents. Did they start off playing the game only to let the money and power go to their heads? Had they once been people who wanted to do better, but shifted into something toxic along the way? I think about the men from the board, the man who ordered a hit on his own child. Was he always like this or had there been a time when he was a better person? Would I end up like them? Looking at Eleanor I know that I would never do anything to hurt her, but what if I changed the longer I was in this position of power? I glance over at Sam and sigh.

"I just don't want to become one of them. I like the money and stability, but I don't want to turn into some awful human being who's willing to harm the people they care about to maintain that power. That's what happened to her tonight. She and I made a choice to film something intimate and she was going to expose that. So her own father protected me and our image over his own daughter. It's messed up."

Around me the room gets quieter, my voice getting louder without me realizing it. The boys looked at me with an understanding because they'd known Shea and they were aware of what the board had chosen before I'd been informed. That's the way that I wanted it to be, I figured it would be better to have information filtered down through others. I figured maybe the situation would be so far removed from me that it wouldn't hurt as badly, but I'd been wrong. This loss hurt because it didn't need to happen. We could've gotten all of the copies of the tape and made sure it never saw the light of day. No one had to be hurt to do it.

"I know this is hard, but you're already doing this differently from mom and dad. You're not like them."

Sam whispers, suddenly uncomfortable as everyone looks at us. I'm acutely aware of my wife's gaze and her own discomfort around raised voices. She never seemed aware of the fact that she always seemed to cower when people yelled, but it was something I noticed all too well from the moment we met. She opens her mouth to say something when the sound of our doorbell combs through the silence. Every other weekend Emilia's dad would take Eleanor for 'gampa' time. It was a special opportunity for our daughter to spend time with her grandpa, as he was her only surviving grandparent at this point. From beside me, Emilia stands up and excuses herself. Gesturing for Eleanor to follow her, my baby stopped to give me a kiss on the cheek before following her mother. From down the hall I hear Emilia hand her father Eleanor's overnight bag and the small sound of her voice shouting “Gampa” excitedly. I look at the guys and sigh, with Emilia out of the room I could talk business for a moment. We had more addictive medications that we needed to get out, our suppliers were running out and our buyers were going to revolt if we took too long to get it out.

"We have five shipments going out this week. Make sure they get where they're supposed to go. We can't leave them hanging a moment longer, after dinner I need you all to hit the road."

I hated pushing pills, I hated being a CEO of a pharmaceutical company and dishing out pills to people who would get hooked and dish out millions of dollars for our benefit. But I'd seen what the board could do and I wasn't about to give them any reason to harm my family, even if they were okay with harming one of theirs. Five sets of eyes stare back at me, each person mulling over what I've said and nodding. They knew what had to be done and they'd do it without any questions.

"Emilia and I also have a Gala next Friday night. I'm going to need you all there. We might need to up security because I want to use the Gala as a rendezvous for the next shipment."

I wait for them to nod in understanding, but am unable to say another word when Emilia re-joins the table. She looks confused as to why we're all sitting in silence, but doesn't say anything about it. Instead, she gives me a small smile before reaching for her wine and taking a sip. She suddenly looks exhausted, but I know it's only because the moment Eleanor leaves, she's finally allowed to rest for a moment. I didn't know how she did it, all the cooking and keeping up with our daughter without breaking a sweat.

"I didn't mean to interrupt whatever you all were quietly talking about from the door..."

She starts giving me a look that tells me she heard more than I intended her to.

"... But you should know Colby-Kins that sound travels in this house. You need to find another place to set up a rendezvous for our shipment. Our planned charity event isn't the time or place to be pushing your pills. We are there for mental health awareness, not pushing our addictive company pills."

The air in the room seems to be sucked out and all of us sit in silence as we watch Emilia downs her glass of wine before she reaches for mine and downs it. There had been many times throughout my marriage where I had tried to keep Emilia out of things. I tried to keep her in the dark, but she always found a way in. She deserved to be included and to have her spot at the table.

"Not to be weird, but I can see why you guys go at it the way you do. That was single handedly the most sexy and intimidating thing I've ever witnessed."

Nate says the words, his eyes wide as he looks between me and my wife. Seeming to see how our gazes are locked and unwilling to budge on what we believe is right. The sexual tension that inevitably builds up whenever she calls me on my shit. Emilia shoots him a grin and blows him a kiss, before looking at me, her intent unyielding as she rasps;

"So why don't we plan this together? Start from the top boss."

I'm putting the dishes into our dishwasher, hours later when I spot my wife in the backyard sporting her swimsuit cover, her bare feet padding over the cobblestone that surrounds our hot tub. It had been a Christmas present from me to her when she mentioned always wanting one. I watch her use one hand to take off the cover of the hot tub while her other hand grasps her new glass of wine. She giggles to herself as she wrestles the cover off successfully. I see her mouth a 'woo' as she steps inside of it. I want to join her but I'm made aware that I'm still not alone as Jake hands me the last of the dishes. He'd wanted to clean up after our impromptu meeting after dinner.

"You know, she's good Colby. You should include her in more business talks. She knows her shit."

I hated to think of including her in our business because I wanted to protect her.

"Jake, I've been trying to keep her out of it to protect her and Eleanor."

He nods, absentmindedly reaching for the aluminum foil so he can wrap up the leftover Lasagna. I can tell that he's thinking of what to say next, that he doesn't want to risk offending me in any way.

"I get that, but sometimes not telling someone something is just as dangerous. Emilia can handle herself but she can handle herself better if you include her. She's part of your family and I know it would mean a lot to her if you included her. She loves you Colby. You don't see how she looks at you and you don't hear about how she talks about you when you're not around. She just wants to make you happy and I think she truly believes she won't until she's able to make every aspect of your life better."

My brow furrows when he says this. I hadn't ever thought of what she said about me when I wasn't around and I hadn't ever thought about how dangerous it was to keep her in the dark. I never wanted her to believe that she didn't make me feel as happy and content as she does.

"She makes me happier than I could've ever imagined Jake. I didn't believe someone like me deserved that. I still don't sometimes."

I hear the sigh leave Jake's body, his hand outstretched to give me a firm pat on the back. I'd known Jake since we were teenagers and he knew all the shit I'd been through with my parents. The toxic cycle of our job and what it did to me mentally. I tried to play a specific role when it came to handling my business. I tried to act tough and untouchable, but I didn't always feel that way. Sometimes my mind went to dark places, sad places that I wished I could pretend away, but I couldn't. Slowly, I glance over at my friend and take a deep breath. He's finished putting away the leftovers and I've filled the dishwasher, suddenly the weight of the day feels too heavy to bear.

"You should head out, I'm going to make sure she doesn't drink too much wine and pass out in the hot tub."

I laugh, gesturing over my shoulder to where my wife has now settled into the hot tub nicely. Her wine is still in her hands as she rests her head back and stares up at the stars. She looks peaceful, but I know her mind is probably going a million miles a minute. Emilia internalized a lot of her thoughts, sometimes I felt like I could see her carefully choosing her words. Always cautious of what to say next. Jake nods, giving me a look of understanding.

"Goodnight Boss. I'll lock the door on my way out."

I give him a faint smile before putting a washing pod into the dishwasher and starting it. I wait to hear the door lock behind him before I decide to join Emilia. She's so inside of her own head that she doesn't hear when I've opened the sliding glass door and stepped onto the back porch. She doesn't even notice when I take a few steps across the cherry wood surface to meet her. We'd had the porch built around the hot tub, so it was nice and close to the house. I waited for a moment, my eyes taking her in, before I reached out to lightly touch her head. A faint 'hmm' passes her lips as she glances over at me, her eyes tired.

"Hey Colby-bear. Join me in the hot tub."

She sounds tired, but the smile on her face makes it impossible for me to even consider not meeting her request. I nod, taking off my watch and my clothes and placing them on the outdoor patio furniture. Her smile grows once I'm fully naked and I sink my body into the one hundred degree water with her. At first I sit across from her, but she reaches for me, guiding me to sit next to her. She places her head on my shoulder and sighs.

"If you look up directly in front of us you can see the big dipper."

My eyes move to meet the general direction she's pointing in and realize she's right. It was the big dipper. Mentally, I wonder when was the last time I looked up at the sky. When was the last time I took the time to look at my surroundings. I glance down at her and feel my heartbeat quicken as I study her. She looks so peaceful and beautiful in the moonlight. She's so perfect and she's all mine.

"You're beautiful Emilia..."

I whisper giving the top of her head a kiss. She blushes at the compliment, nuzzling her head into the crook of my neck.

"... I'm so in love with you that I feel like I'm going to burst."

At this she lifts her head momentarily, her gaze connecting with mine. She looks a bit suspicious as to why I'm complimenting her, but I can't help it. She's everything to me and sometimes I couldn't keep it in. Sometimes I had to say something because I knew how lucky I was.

"Are you trying to butter me up? Because Bug wants a sibling?"

I laugh, remembering our daughter's demands at dinner time. I would be lying if I said I wasn't thinking of giving her what she wanted, but I also knew that Emilia and I were busier than ever before. We'd be even busier if I did as Jake suggested and had Emilia join in on our business. There was so much more that I was doing behind the scenes than she even knew. Telling her everything and involving her would be a lot, but if anyone could handle it, it was her.

"As tempting as that is Emilia. I'm just saying it because that's how I feel at this moment. I love you and I know I need to tell you that more often. You, and our Bug, mean the world to me. I think about it all of the time, but I can't keep internalizing it."

She takes a minute to process what I've said, her face kind as she contemplates how what I've said makes her feel.

"Thank you for saying all of that. Sometimes I think about how things had been the night we met. I never would've guessed that things would end up the way that they have. I love you more than I could've imagined."

I'd be lying if I said that I hadn't thought about the first night we met too. I thought about it often, the way I felt when I'd heard the news from my parents. They never gave me a choice, just informed me that I was getting married in 24 hours with a script to follow. I'd been so angry that I was forced to do another business transaction for my family. Another chip away at my soul without a say in the matter. It took everything in me to not flip out, to show up and do as I've been told. I remember how pissed I'd been walking into the church, standing at the end of the aisle, waiting to meet my fate. But I also remembered the moment she was standing before me, the moment she looked up at me through a fake look of excitement, fear in her eyes. I remembered being such an asshole and thinking about how hot she looked and how I couldn't wait to fuck her. That at least she was a pretty punishment. It wasn't until she kissed me on our wedding night that I felt the traces of bitterness leave me. I could feel it then, that same feeling that I feel now, utterly hers.

"I am just happy you're my forever..."

The words come out so quietly they're almost silent. If I hadn't been the one moving my lips I wouldn't have believed I'd actually said the words, but she heard me. Her green eyes tear up, her gaze studying mine.

"... I want you to work with me and the boys. I want you to know everything we have planned and when we're planning it."

I place my hands on either side of her face when I say this, my damp fingertips light along her skin. The more I thought about how much she meant to me the more I realized that Jake had been right. Emilia was a part of all aspects of this life she married into and it was wrong to keep her in the dark. Her lips pull together into a small smile.

"As long as you pay me in kisses, I'll do whatever you want."

Her voice is suggestive as she leans forward to press her lips to mine. She wastes no time deepening the kiss, her touch intoxicating. The moment she touches me I wish that I would've offered her the position sooner. The sensation of her lips on mine instantly made me want more of her. Cautiously I reach for her wine glass and place it on the patio table. Once the wine glass is out of her grasp, she moves her manicured hands to my hair, entwining them. Somewhere in the shuffle of kisses she moves her bikini clad body to straddle mine in the water.

"I'll give you as many kisses as you want. I'll give you everything I have."

I growl the words against her lips, my hands holding her in place. She lets out a breathy whimper at my words, her chest flush against mine. I can feel the tension building between the two of us, each breath more erratic than the last. She felt so good against me, but before we can take things any further she breaks the kiss. She peers up at me and tries to steady her breathing.

"Can we go inside and finish this?..."

She asks, suddenly bashful.

"... I don't want to violate the family hot tub. Everyone uses this when they come over."

I can't hold in the laugh that bubbles up inside of me when she says this. The sweet look that she gives me, mixed with the dark look of desire that flickers in her eyes.

With my hands still on her face, I nod. We look at each other so deeply, so lovingly that it almost feels like a dream of sorts.

"Wherever you want to go, I will follow..."

I pause as she studies me, a smile on her lips.

"... And it will be that way for the rest of my life. You and bug are my girls. You're my everything."

I speak so tenderly that I almost can't believe it's me who is speaking. The man I'd been when I first met my wife couldn't have imagined that I'd ever feel this way, let alone be able to voice it out loud. She leans forward and presses her lips to mine once more, giving me a soft tender kiss. She breathes me in as she does, her arms and legs wrapping around me in the hot tub. Slowly I pull us out of the hot tub, our bodies remaining locked together as we continue to kiss. I don't bother covering the tub up as I walk us inside, our bodies still dripping wet when we enter our kitchen through the sliding glass door.

Once we are safely tucked inside and I've locked the door behind us, a small gasp escapes Emilia's lips. As if she'd been trying to not make a sound outside. Knowing full well that her father's house was less than a five minute walk behind our own house.

"I love you."

She rasps, her voice breathy and uneven. I move my fingers to the back of her bikini top, unlacing it before reaching around to grab the fabric and drop it on the kitchen floor. I mentally make a note of where I've dropped it and to pick it up again when we finished. There's a comfort I feel whenever her skin is flush against mine. A warmth unlike anything I'd ever felt before.

"I love you too."

I whisper through sloppier kisses, deepening with each step forward that I take. One step closer to our bedroom. I waste no time weaving through the maze of hallways and doorways, my mind focused on one thing.

Her.

She grinds herself against me, needy for more. I can't help but wish I was buried inside of her, but I know that I have a few more steps to take before I reach our bedroom. So I focus on moving forward, each step bringing me closer to where I needed her the most.

Once I reach our bedroom, I lay her on the bed. I feel feverish as I reach to pull her bikini bottoms off of her body, the fabic in a small ball as I toss it to the side on the floor. I waste no time getting on top of her and sliding my hardened cock into her. I bottom out and for a moment I don’t move. I wait there, feel her slick tight walls around me and I enjoy the feeling. She leans up, her lips going against mine as she feels how full I’ve made her. Her tongue meets mine when she deepens the kiss, soft groans of desperation fall from her lips. She needs me to move inside of her and she’s getting impaitient. I can’t help the smirk that plays on my lips. Who was I to keep her waiting? So I don’t. I thrust inside of her deep and hard, without apology. And after that I don’t think, I just focus on worshiping her body and remembering that she’s my whole my world.

That, as long as I have her, I can get through anything this life throws at us.

#colby brock #colby brock fanfic #colby brock smut #sam and colby #sam and colby fanfiction #sam and colby smut #colby brock imagine #colby x reader #colby brock x reader

44 notes · View notes

jqmalikhsgib · 8 months ago

Text

beauty and the freak

four

you wake up early on saturday morning due to a loud banging on your front door. you had hope someone would be home to see who it was, but as time went by you assumed everyone was either asleep or they’ve been gone.

you groaned before moving eddie’s hand off of you and getting out of bed. you looked over at your boyfriend and roll your eyes. eddie could sleep through the end of the world. you head downstairs before opening the door and immediately wanting to slam it.

there stood your bitch of a mother with some dessert you’re sure she bought from the grocery store.

“it’s too early for you to be here and bother everyone. kindly go away!”

“now is that a way to speak to a neighbor? let alone your mother? and what are you wearing? what have i told you about looking your best at all times. even when you’re asleep!”

“sorry mother! we don’t all sleep in coffins. what are you doing here?”

“i came to greet my new neighbors. is that so wrong?”

“when it’s you? absolutely! dads not here and neither is his wife.”

your mother shrugs her shoulders. she gently pushes you aside and invites herself into your home. closing the door, you turned and rolled your eyes. “oh, sure! just come right in, mother.”

your mom looks around the place and hums. “quite cute.”

“seriously, what do you want?”

“like i said, i came to visit my daughter and ex husband.”

“i don’t wanna see you!”

your mother turns around. she gently grabs your hand and shakes her head. “when’s the last time you got this done?”

“why does it matter?”

“i just want what’s best for you darling.”

you groan as you head to the kitchen, grab a cup, thanking your father for making coffee before he left. your mother follows behind you.

“why don’t you come live with me and my fiancée?”

“since when have you been engaged?”

your mother shrugs her shoulders. “he asked me two weeks ago. you’d know that if you’d bother to text your mother back!”

“who was knocking on the door? oh. hi.” steve looks at you and you shrug your shoulders.

“steven.”

steve simply ignores her. he knew she didn’t like him much because his mom married her ex husband. but that wasn’t his problem.

“ed, here?” steve asked you.

you nod your head. “he’s sleep.”

“as always! the man is a menace.”

“im sorry, ed? who is ed?”

“eddie, mom!”

“as in munson? you don’t seriously have him in your house?! you do know his dad is a criminal right?! does your father know about him being here?” she turns to steve. “does your mom?!”

both you and steve laugh. “yeah! eddie’s my best friend. of course they know!”

“how could you associate yourself with someone like that steven?!”

steve looks at you as if your mom has been living under a rock. in this town, everyone knows everybody’s business. and despite your mom being your typical overbearing, condescending, arrogant woman, she minded her own business—besides yours and your dad’s business—

you weren’t surprised she didn’t know about eddie and steve. and you weren’t surprised that she didn’t know about you and eddie. this only made you smirk.

knowing this would just piss her off and possibly get her out of your life—but knowing her this would only make her control your life even more—you take a sip of your coffee before hearing footsteps.

“morning, man!” eddie yawns. he didn’t notice your mom, yet. instead he walks over to you and smiles. “how’d you sleep, baby?” eddie wraps his arms around your waist.

“i slept amazing. love cuddling you.”

“yeah? what else you love, hmm?” eddie kisses your neck.

you gently giggle. “ed, steve’s right there.”

“oh, please! i know you two are freaks! the walls between my room and yours are pretty thin, sister.” steve nudged you.

you blush.

“um—excuse me?! what the hell is going on?”

you honestly forgot about your mother. but now you were happy she’d been here. eddie’s perfect in your eyes! no one could tell you otherwise. and you’d never use eddie, not for anything! but knowing that your mom didn’t like him made you love eddie even more—if that’s even possible—

eddie looks at you and noticed your smirk. he smirks back knowing exactly what you were thinking.

“hi, miss yln! how are you?”

your mom looks at eddie up and down as if he was trash. eddie’s use to the looks. it doesn’t bother him a bit.

though it did bother you! she couldn’t judge anyone. she’s a manipulative serial cheater!

“get your hands off my daughter!”

“mom! he’s my boyfriend. stop being rude!” you roll your eyes.

“boyfriend?! you can’t be serious, yn ymn yln?”

“i am! we’ve been dating for a year and a half. how have you not known this?!”

your mom stares at you as if you had two heads. “you barely talk to me! and you know i don’t gossip. how could you be dating this—this—”

“freak? trailer trash? criminal child? cult leader? satanist? ive heard it all misses yln. doesn’t even hurt. bottom line, im in love with your daughter. im gonna marry her someday, rather you like or not. make her a munson and have millions of munson babies! gonna take her on the road with me when my band and i make it big! gonna prove you and this hick ass town just how wrong they are. i would love if you’d accept my relationship with her, but it ain’t gonna change shit if you don’t.” eddie shrugs his shoulder and walked away. you looked at him with so much love it almost pained you.

eddie truly is the perfect man!

“yn, we need to talk about this!”

yn shrugs her shoulders. “you heard him. get in line or get the fuck out. actually, just get the fuck out!” you walked away from your mother as steve grabs and apple, smirks, and takes a bit of it.

“you told her, sissy!”

taglist:

@lov3withurgency @sunshineandwitchery @melaninjhs @baileebear @am0iur @lovesanimals0000 @pipsqueakkitten @playgurlxoxo @peachy4u2 @thepurplelovewitch

#jqhotchner #jqhotchner masterlist #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x black!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x yn #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x female reader #beauty and the freak jqhotchner

40 notes · View notes

zaeliaeve · 2 years ago

Text

𝓡𝓸𝓼𝓮𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓕𝓵𝓪𝓶𝓮 [𝓚.𝓜] 𝟏𝟖+ Chapter 4

DISCLAIMER: NSFW 18+ ONLY! MINORS DNI!

WARNINGS: Cum kink, unprotected sex, vaginal sex.

In life there are two reactions to most situations; fight or flight.

Bianca almost always responded with the latter. It was simply easier to pretend nothing was happening because the moment you do self-reflection you must change, and Bianca didn't want to change yet.

Life for the first time in a long time seemed colorful again. After the death of her father, she wasn't sure when she would feel like herself again but she doesn't even necessarily feel like her old self either. This was a whole new side of life.

Suddenly there was something to look forward to, somebody who always knew the right thing to say and knew how to please her in a way that would put her on a dopamine high that would last all day. Her feelings were only growing stronger with each interaction.

It was purely selfish, but she couldn't stop.

They had to be more careful now after Kylian slept over at her house. Camille has been all over Kylian lately, constantly showing up randomly and calling the office to speak with him. Luckily she hasn't found anything because Kylian made sure to scrub his phone clean.

Even somewhat hinting that Kylian leave Camille would feel too far, after all, he does have a daughter with her and Bianca wouldn't want to ruin the young girl's life; not to mention even hinting at a breakup it could send Kylian running for the hills.

Admittedly, it would be nice to know where Kylian stood on the situation but she could never tell. The Frenchman would never even give a clue on where he stood emotionally and despite her better judgment she was a little curious and wanted to poke around a bit to gauge where he stood, maybe just for the sake of knowing.

Bianca was trying to convince herself that she truly didn't care, that she was just curious; like a cat walking on the edge of a window seal.

What has curiosity ever done to a cat?

"Oi you're in my spot you know?" A deep accented voice says standing directly in front of Bianca's desk, arms crossed.

She snaps her head up from her notebook with pure confusion only to be more confused when she realizes it's someone she's never met before. The unknown man is tall, has smooth full lips, big friendly brown eyes, and a seemingly just-cut faded haircut.

He is undoubtedly beautiful.

This man seemed young- too young to work there given almost all staff are past thirty besides Kylian and herself. "I'm sorry are you at the wrong place? Would you like directions?" Bianca asked earnestly, shuffling to her computer and getting ready to pull up Google Maps.

"What you think I couldn't work here?" There's now a grin on his face and his teeth are just as nice as the rest of him.

Bianca scrambled with her words trying to explain herself, somewhat off guard from the fresh face. "Of course you could. I've just never seen you around and now you wanna sit in my seat."

He pointed over to the empty chair on the far right to her with the broken computer that hasn't been used the whole time she's been there. "Actually I wanna sit in that seat" He corrected her before making his way behind the desk.

She didn't stop him, only watching as he placed his leather bag next to the dusty keyboard. "But you said-"

"I was only messing with you."

Bianca blinked unsurely at what was happening. "I'm sorry who are you?" She finally questioned, her body fully facing him.

The man stuck his hand out and now sat in the previously empty chair. "I'm Jude. I filled your spot while you were away and Mr. Messi liked me so much that he wanted me to stay here."

Oh, this is the guy Kylian was talking about in the car the other day. He didn't seem boring at all. In fact, quite the opposite.

"I'm Bianca" Their hands linked together, shaking up and down a few times courteously before letting go.

Her eyebrows knitted together. "Wait, I thought you were his assistant?"

Jude rubbed his hands together before he shrugged confidently. "I am, but he said if I could fix up the computer I could have my own space" he explained now turning to face the dead computer in front of him.

This isn't your own space, this is my space.

A heads-up would have been nice for the new change but Bianca wasn't too bothered by it. Slightly irritated yes, but not actually angry about it. Maybe now she would be forced to do her job a bit better, less time to slack off with someone watching her. Especially someone the CEO seemed to have grown fond of.

Bianca didn't say much else, just went back to her notebook trying to figure out one of the higher-up's appointment schedules so she could find an opening for another client.

There was a silence that lasted about an hour while Jude messed around with the computer trying to pick it apart while Bianca did her own work. They were simply coexisting in the same place.

Jude broke the silent streak first. "I can tell you aren't from around here either" he noted as his hands still tinkered at the machine.

She wasn't sure what he meant or how he meant it, but she decided to go the playful route. "What gave it away?" Her tone was light, glancing at him from the corner of her eye.

"Everyone I've met so far looks like they've seen hell with their own eyes. You look too innocent to be from here."

Bianca laughed to herself. If only he knew.

Jude didn't miss her reaction. "What's funny? Am I wrong?" His head looked left to her.

There was no right way to answer that, so it was probably best to slightly change the subject. "Where are you from?"

His eyes stayed glued to her. "Stourbridge, England."

Bianca pouted her lower lip out and put a hand on her chest. "My condolences."

"You've been?"

"No, but it doesn't sound pleasant."

Jude's wide smile returned, and his eyes twinkled underneath the fluorescent lights. "What do they even have in your country? Coconuts?" He teased back.

She laughed hardily at that, completely forgetting about the work she was supposed to be doing. "I'll take that over your guys' food options. Beans on toast should be banned, there is no way people actually enjoy that."

Both of their chairs turned to face each other. "You know people do enjoy? Electricity. Your people wouldn't know about that I guess" Jude shot back, trying to hide his own laughter.

Bianca also tried to conceal her giggles. "Oh really? We do know about the dentist though, can you Englishmen say the same?"

Jude flashed his white teeth, wiping them with his tongue. "Don't even try to violate us like that again."

A loud ringing broke up their interaction, causing them both to jump. Bianca swiveled her chair back around and lifted the landline phone to her ear, immediately causing the annoying buzzing to stop. "JPR-Finance, this is Bianca speaking how may I assist you today?"

"It always makes me laugh when you use your customer service voice."

Bianca's heart fluttered in her chest the second she heard Kylian's voice, a warm feeling spreading in her stomach. She could feel Jude's eyes on her so she kept her composure calm and professional. "I'm not sure what you're talking about, sir. Is there anything you would like help with this afternoon?"

Kylian's eyebrows raised at her continued act. "Actually yes there is, Ms. Salazar. I've got half a pineapple pizza that I need you to come finish. Food waste is one of the world's greatest failures and it would be such a shame to contribute to it."

Bianca snickered internally. So corny but so cute.

She felt at ease when Jude went back to the computer, now able to act more like herself around Kylian. "I'll be happy to help you.

The phone was placed back into the holder before she slid out from her desk and headed to the elevators.

Bianca swallowed her food before speaking, eyes on his suit. "I have a question for you"

Kylian tapped his mouth with a napkin to wipe away the shiny residue from the pizza. He hummed shortly for her to continue speaking. "Is Camille your wife or your girlfriend?" The question caught him off guard and he coughed to regain composure.

"She's my girlfriend." He responded simply, fidgeting the napkin inside his palm.

A small wave of relief washed over her. At least they aren't married.

She accepted his answer and took another bite of the greasy bread before pressing again. "How long have you guys been together?"

Kylian breathed in slowly as he winded his shoulders, visibly uncomfortable. "I just turned 20 when we met so a little more than four years." He surprisingly seemed level-headed when answering even though out of his comfort zone.

Bianca cocked her head to the side. "But Ariella is four so Camille must have gotten pregnant quickly."

"She got pregnant only a month into our relationship. I hadn't really gotten to know her well at that point, I was just a kid. Young and dumb. I got Ari though, so I'm happy." Kylian shrugged it off, shutting the pizza box as his appetite dwindled.

She kept the conversation going, relieved to finally get some answers. "Where did you meet?"

Kylian paused in his place and looked at the ceiling trying to wrack his brain to remember the answer. "At a club, if I remember correctly. I was more wild in those days so all the memories kind of blended together. I don't like to think about it much."

Her lips pulled downwards. The entire situation seemed unfair with each new fact she discovered.

Bianca was walking on a tightrope with this conversation and she knew it, so pushing too much on the subject wasn't a smart idea but yet the nagging feeling of wanting to know more wouldn't leave.

The pizza grew cold as it stayed on the paper plate, now long forgotten. Bianca lifted her head up to look at him, adrenaline too strong to be afraid.

Against her better judgment, she asked the question that's been on her mind for some time now. "Do you really love her?"

Kylian's eyes softened and his shoulders slumped down. "Bianca," he breathed out as he stood up from his seat.

Bianca instantly regretted asking the question, cheeks burning with embarrassment and wanting to crawl into a hole to hide forever. Kylian bent down to meet her eye level in the chair before holding her face in his palms and gently kissing her.

His lips were warm and relaxed, contrasting sharply with hers who was careful and shaky as her mind swirled. After a few seconds of his touch, she eased into him and accepted when his tongue swiped across her lower lip.

Their saliva exchanged as their mouths opened for each other, salty and sweet like the food they just consumed. Kylian broke the kiss to press a few other ones to her cheeks before he wrapped his arms around her tightly.

Bianca was unsure of what answer she wanted to hear but as she sat smothered in his arms, this seemed like the perfect one.

Her hands pushed on his chest to get space only enough to find his mouth again this time with more heat. Kylian grabbed her thighs lifted her from the chair swiftly and placed her on his semi-empty desk.

"You're always on my mind," Kylian says breathlessly before sucking on her neck.

Bianca's mind is fuzzy, lost in the sensation of his tongue dragging across her flesh. Kylian is growing hard quickly, subconsciously grinding against her leg for friction. She rubs his bulge with one hand, the other cradling his head as he unbuttons her shirt and then unclasps her bra.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spots the large clock ticking mockingly at them. "You have a meeting in forty minutes so let's make this quick, mon beau." she reminds him before wincing at the cold air now exposed to her chest.

Kylian let out a low laugh as he pulls her skirt down. "Oui m'dame" he pecks at her lips.

Bianca hops off the desk and turns around so that she's fully bent over the desk. From behind, she hears him gasp at her straightforward action. Kylian takes time to caress her body, admiring her as if she was a sculpture; tracing over her curves with the pads of his fingertips.

His veiny hands grasp her ass, squeezing the fatty flesh before pressing his thumb over her clothed pussy. Kylian circled around the nerves through the thin cloth, smiling when he felt her warm juices spread around with his finger.

She pushed back onto his long digit, desperate for more contact as she held onto the wooden desk completely vulnerably.

Kylian found it amusing watching her squirm and wanted to drag it out for longer despite the time crunch. He yanked his hand away from her body to unzip his pants and push them down his thick thighs, tugging his boxers down next.

He could see in her body language that she felt excited at the sound of his pants falling and he almost felt bad for not instantly giving her what she wanted so badly. Kylian took his fully hard dick and dragged his across her ass, his sticky warm precum leaving small wet stains against the cotton of her underwear.

Bianca let out a whine and murmured his name incoherently, only enticing him further.

He lifted up the fabric so that his throbbing cock could slide between the skin and the material, the silhouette of his dick outlined in the cotton. He groaned at the feeling of her soft flesh rubbing against his foreskin and he shallowly thrusts.

"More Kylian" she cries, grinding her ass against him.

Kylian placed one hand on her waist and guides her while he bucks into her repeatedly, enjoying the view of her ass bouncing against him. He let out small grunts as he got lost in the moment and became focused on the enchanting sight before him, focused on his own pleasure. "Please baby" she gets out needily.

That broke him out of his trance, and Kylian having enough of his own game pulled down her underwear and eased himself into her dripping heat. "Fuck yes yes thank you" Bianca jumbled together, lust clouding her senses.

He slid into her body perfectly like a puzzle piece, sucking at the side of her neck and shuddering at how good her slippery walls felt clenching around him. "Always so tight and perfect for me," Kylian says into her ear as he picks up his pace.

Kylian pulls away to grab at her ass again, sweat forming as he pumps himself into her completely before pulling out again and repeating the steps. Bianca was a mess under him, drooling onto the surface below as his tip nudged against her most sensitive spot.

He angled himself so he could repeatedly fuck into that spot, this time harder. Her eyes rolled in the back of her head as a string of curses left her mouth incoherently. Kylian used one of his hands to fondle her breast before pulling her hair so her neck would be exposed to his lips.

Bianca was already close and he could feel it by the globs of clear liquid smearing onto his cock and her walls enclosing around him tightly. Kylian can feel his cock start to twitch at the wet warm feeling. "Merde, princess you're fucking soaking. Not gonna last long."

Kylian lowered his hand to rub against her clit, starting off slowly and then matching his fast pace. "Ahh f-fuckkkk" she borderline screamed out, eyes screwing shut, dangerously close to her orgasm.

" 's good. Want you to cum all over" Bianca slurred drunkenly, eyelids low.

Kylian let out a low whine. "You need my cum mon bébé?"

She nodded quickly without a second thought. "Yes! Want you to make a mess on me."

He was determined to make her come first, so he pounded into her and rubbed against that spot again, pushing her over the edge. Kylian almost cried at how good it felt when her sopping velvety walls spasmed around his raw cock, wanting to milk him for everything he had. Bianca chanted his name as she came, hot dribbles of her own juice running down her legs.

"Gonna paint you so pretty" he groaned out deeply, balls tight and full of his semen.

Kylian couldn't hold back any longer so he pulled out and drenched her smooth thighs in his white creamy cum, moaning as his cock spurted out an endless load. "Fuck yes! Take it all, ma chérie" He grunted out.

Bianca rubbed her thighs together to make a bigger mess, smearing the thick liquid all over her skin combined with her own juices. Kylian panted as he slowly came down, mind cloudy from how intense his orgasm was.

Kylian turned her around on the desk so their lips could meet again, his hand rubbing against her drenched thighs so he could feel their own creation. "Beautiful," he says as he looks down.

Kylian and Bianca stood sweatily and out of breath as they came down from their highs, skin flushed and damp as proof of their actions. He pulled Bianca into his arms one last time to kiss her sloppily, she reciprocated happily but somewhat tired.

"I hate when I have to leave," Bianca says once their lips part.

Kylian brings her hand up to his mouth, leaving long kisses on each knuckle. "Don't leave then. Stay here forever with me." He sounded serious even though what he was saying was outlandish.

Oh, If only.

Bianca couldn't resist another kiss even if the time was running out before his meeting. As Kylian's fingers laced in her hair a loud knocking caused them to pull away abruptly.

"Kylian?"

The high-pitched voice made both of their stomachs drop. They froze in their places as the knocking got louder. "I know you're in there Kylian." She shrieked.

He zipped his pants up as Bianca rushed to find her underwear thrown somewhere across the room. "Camille I'm in a meeting," Kylian yelled at the door as he tried to straighten up the mess they had made.

The door handle started jiggling as Camille yanked at the metal but it was stopped by the lock. "Just let me in Kylian you're driving me crazy" Camille huffed, voice strong.

Bianca's eyes scanned around the room for places to hide but there weren't many options. Behind a plant seemed too cliche and seeing the girl face to face was definitely out of the question. It was obvious to anyone with a brain what they were doing and if anyone found out, the consequences would be disastrous.

Luckily, Kylian's grand wooden desk completely touched the floor so it was impossible to see what was on the other side unless you completely came around. Bianca set aside her dignity as she crawled on the floor and nustled herself into the dark space.

Going from letting another person inside of her to minutes later degrading herself to being someone's dirty secret as his cum dried on her skin was humiliating, to say the least; but it was completely deserved.

"Just stay quiet and we'll be fine" Kylian assured her in a whisper.

The knocking hadn't stopped, if anything only growing louder. Kylian quickly opened up a window to let out some of the humidity and sprayed old cologne from years ago that he doesn't even like anymore.

He rushed to the door and cracked it open, his body blocking her from being able to see inside. "Are you crazy? I'm in the middle of a meeting! Are you trying to get me fired?" Kylian lied easily to the upset girl.

Camille let out a shaky breath. "You make me crazy. I can't shake this gut feeling, Kylian. A woman's intuition is never wrong."

Bianca felt like she was going to throw up her head spinning and ears ringing yet she couldn't move a muscle.

"I don't have time for this Camille. You've come up here more times within the past week than you have in my whole career and all you do is cause a scene every time. I can't take it anymore" Kylian kept stern.

Camille let out an offended gasp. "I don't have any other choice. You come home smelling like a woman's perfume and you won't even look at me anymore. Every single time I talk to you, you barely respond. It's like your head is always somewhere else."

Bianca felt like she was watching a horrible car crash. An absolute wreck, but you can't look away- or in this case, stop listening.

"We can talk about it when we get home but I'm not doing this here. Leave Camille." Kylian wasn't even arguing back, seemingly just tired.

His girlfriend clearly wasn't satisfied with that answer, only fueling the fire more. "You don't even care about me! I'm sitting here pouring out my heart and you don't even give a fuck! What kind of example are you setting for Ariella? I will never let my child grow up with such a pathetic excuse of a father" Camille sobbed.

Kylian let out a sigh and softened his tone as he scratched the back of his neck. "Of course I care, I really do. I just have a lot of work that needs to get done. I promise the second I get home, we can talk about this. Go home, run a bath, and relax."

Bianca hears their clothes shift as Camille clings to his body for a hug. "I love you" she hears faintly from Camille.

"I love you too."

Suddenly it's all too much and Bianca covers her ears with her hands, hands shaking around her head as she does so. The door shuts and Kylian bends down to find Bianca with her knees to her chest and shaking from the adrenaline. "Are you okay?" He asks softly.

She doesn't say anything, only staring blankly at the floor. "Bianca" he calls to her.

Bianca's face remains the same, staring off into space.

Kylian doesn't know what to say or do so he crawls on the floor next to her and waits in silence in the dark small space, eyes carefully watching her. "I want to go home," Bianca says after some time.

"Whatever you want to do, I'll make happen. But please-" He pauses, hesitant to scare her away.

Please don't give up on me.

"-call me when you get home. I want to make sure you're okay."

Bianca stands up quietly, not saying anything else as she fixes her clothes and bolts for the door, leaving a distressed Kylian behind.

She stopped at her desk to grab her things, a preoccupied Jude looking up when he sees she came back. "You're leaving already?" He asks with surprise.

Bianca was in no mood to talk but still kept a polite tone. "Yeah, I'm not feeling well."

It wasn't a complete lie, at least.

Jude pouts his lip. "Shit, sorry to hear."

He turns his body around and scribbles down something in pen before ripping the paper and presenting it to her. "Here's my number. It gets lonely here, let's hang out sometime.."

Bianca takes the paper and shoves it deep into her pocket. "Definitely."

Hours pass as Bianca stayed nuzzled on her couch, wrapped under thick wool blankets. Her eyes are swollen from all the time spent crying, replaying the day over and over again in her head from every possible angle.

Everything was just so messy and confusing, she hated it.

Today forced her to come to the realization that even the people you dislike the most have feelings too. Is it justified in any way? Can I handle the emotional burden that comes with Kylian? Is it all worth it?

They could both lose everything, but for some reason, none of that mattered the moment she was in his presence. Everything felt so right with him. Bianca internally cursed at herself forever applying to the job in the first place. In any scenario, they would always be drawn to each other.

No matter how much she tried to fight against her feelings for him, she would always lose. Bianca imagines stepping into a time machine and stopping herself from ever leaving her country at all.

At the reminder of the silly conversation from earlier with Jude, she crawls off of the couch to find her sweater from earlier and dig out the pockets. In it was his sloppy note and she carried it with her before sitting back on the cushions and typing the numbers into her phone.

B: Hey, It's Bianca. Sorry for messaging so late, I was distracted all day. Hope you're sleeping well.

About ten minutes later her phone buzzes with a notification.

J: why would I be asleep? Sleep is for the weak yanno xx

She smiles for the first time in hours.

B: right, that's why I assumed you'd be asleep.

J: ur an actual hater

J: ur lucky ur pretty or else I'd block u rn ;P

𝔸/ℕ: 𝕋𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕜 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘!! 𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕙𝕒𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕡𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕟𝕖𝕕 𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕤𝕠 𝕝𝕠𝕟𝕘 𝕤𝕠 𝕀'𝕞 𝕘𝕝𝕒𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕤 𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕣𝕠𝕕𝕦𝕔𝕖 𝕁𝕦𝕕𝕖. 𝔹𝕚𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕒 𝕚𝕤 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕒 𝕞𝕒𝕕𝕖-𝕦𝕡 𝕚𝕤𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕚𝕟 𝕞𝕪 𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕕 𝕤𝕠 𝕀 𝕗𝕖𝕖𝕝 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕚𝕥'𝕤 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕓𝕒𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕖𝕤 𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕚𝕥! 𝔹𝕚𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕒 𝕚𝕤 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕥 𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕖! 𝕀 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕪 𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕘𝕖𝕥 𝕒 𝕝𝕠𝕠𝕜 𝕒𝕥 ℂ𝕒𝕞𝕚𝕝𝕝𝕖'𝕤 𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕪 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕀 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕚𝕤 𝕒 𝕟𝕚𝕔𝕖 𝕕𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕚𝕥. ℕ𝕖𝕖𝕕𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕖𝕩𝕡𝕝𝕒𝕚𝕟 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕤𝕖𝕥 𝕦𝕡 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕗𝕦𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖 𝕤𝕠 𝕀'𝕞 𝕘𝕖𝕟𝕦𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕝𝕪 𝕤𝕠𝕣𝕣𝕪 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕨𝕒𝕤𝕟'𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕓𝕖𝕤𝕥 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕚𝕥 𝕛𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕙𝕒𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕖 𝕕𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕦𝕘𝕙. 𝕊𝕠 𝕔𝕦𝕣𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝕥𝕠 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕒𝕝𝕤𝕠 𝕋ℍ𝔸ℕ𝕂 𝕐𝕆𝕌 𝔽𝕆ℝ 𝔸𝕃𝕃 𝕋ℍ𝔼 𝕃𝕆𝕍𝔼 <𝟛𝟛𝟛𝟛!!!!! 𝕀 𝕤𝕞𝕚𝕝𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕞𝕪𝕤𝕖𝕝𝕗 𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕕𝕒𝕪 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕕 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕟𝕚𝕔𝕖 𝕡𝕖𝕠𝕡𝕝𝕖! 𝕀𝕃𝕐𝕊𝕄!!

#kylian mbappe #kylian mbappe fanfic #kylian smut #kylian mbappe smut #football fanfiction #kylian mbappe imagine

146 notes · View notes

cyanrendipity · 1 month ago

Note

Can we see the cat?

My beautiful daughter who has never done anything wrong in her whole life

Her name is Canela it can mean cinnamon but also is what we call the lower leg, the shin?

She's named after the body part, but we can pretend it's after cinnamon <3

#cyan talking #pets #cats #i also have 4 other cats but i dont have pics of them on this phone i dont think

13 notes · View notes

the-sun-and-the-sea · 3 months ago

Text

Odesta Week Day 6: Supernatural Saturday

Annie Cresta has one goal.

It’s not to be selected as the volunteer for the 70th Hunger Games—she’s already done that. And despite what she tells Caesar Flickerman, it’s not even to win the Games, although losing would certainly hinder things.

She spent ten years training at the Academy because she wants to be something. Make a name for herself.

And when your mother is a goddess, it’s not easy to step out from under her shadow.

It’s not like anyone knows that Annie’s mother is Aphrodite. Officially, the gods don’t exist, and the Capitol is the most powerful entity that the world has ever seen. But Annie knows, and she’s spent most of her life trying to prove to herself that she’s powerful in her own right.

On the night before she goes into the arena, she feels anything but powerful.

Mags, who is mentoring Annie, says that even volunteers feel nervous on the night before. It’s normal, apparently, because this is everything she’s been working towards. And if it goes wrong, she’ll never work towards anything again. But it won’t go wrong. She won’t let it.

Her room is dark and too stifling even in its vastness, so she heads out to the balcony for some fresh air. Even the air in the Capitol feels different than the air back home. The city smog sits heavy in her lungs, or maybe she’s just imagining the tightness in her chest.

“Can’t sleep?”

Annie startles, but the voice sounds oddly familiar. She turns around and meets eyes that are as bright as a kaleidoscope, gleaming in the city lights. The woman is foreign and familiar all at once. Her shining hair tumbles down her back, and Annie’s eyes don’t even know where to focus. They flicker from her eyes to her hair to her serene smile.

“Aphrodite,” she says, because it feels weird to address her as ‘Mom’ when this is the first and probably only conversation they’ll have.

Aphrodite is the goddess of love and beauty, and her unearthly looks are testament to that. She was born of sea foam, which is what ties her to District Four, although as a goddess she’s not bound by the Capitol’s rules.

Her smile doesn’t waver. “Evanna.”

“You can call me Annie,” she says. “I didn’t think you were ever going to visit.”

“Tomorrow is an important day for you,” says Aphrodite. “I may not be mortal, but I know that much.”

“I don’t want your help,” says Annie before she can stop herself. “Sorry. But I have to do this on my own.”

Her mother gives an unbothered shrug. “I am not here to offer help. Only encouragement. Did you know that in some ancient cultures, I was worshiped as a warrior goddess?”

The night wind whistles through her hair. “You were?”

She nods. “This experience will test you unlike any other, but you know that already. What you may not know is that the power you’ve been searching for has been inside you all along. You are a warrior, my daughter. Not because you are mine but because of your own merit. You have always been fated to transcend these mortal games.”

Annie’s heart is in her throat. It’s getting hard to breathe, and she can’t tell if it’s fear or excitement that she’s feeling. “Are you saying I’m going to win?”

“Only you can determine that,” says Aphrodite. “Before you go, I have something for you. A gift.”

She opens her hands, and Annie looks at the small glittery object. It’s a necklace. A small white pearl hangs from a thin gold chain. Annie accepts the gift, cupping the necklace reverently in her hands. “Thank you.”

“There is no difficulty you cannot face,” she says, then disappears.

Annie walks back into her room in a daze. Her eyelids go heavy with sudden exhaustion, so she gently sets the necklace on her bedside table and climbs into bed.

#this is for you mare nostrum fans #sorry this one was a bit shorter haha #shockingly tomorrow's ended up being the longest #so we have that to look forward to #i hope you enjoyed this one #i'm not great with supernatural stuff but it was fun to write #odesta week #odesta #annie cresta #wait is this even odesta finnick's not even in it #my bad yall #thg #the hunger games

8 notes · View notes

sdmsims · 8 months ago

Text

i know i just said im kind of crunching to meet a deadline but i figured i'd post a few oc sims while im here

🦇 DOLLIE (theythem) -- gamertag of MORB1US, everyone wants them to shut up

👼 ARAEL (sheher) -- my beautiful daughter who has never done anything wrong ever in her life

💋 SELE(NE) (sheher) -- one of dollie's roommates who steals the pooled funds to buy luxury fashion and party

#sims 4 #ts4 #rabbits are rabbits are rabbits are #non cc posting

13 notes · View notes

ailelie · 8 months ago

Text

The Diazes Know the Future (This Isn't It)

This is complete and utter crack. Please do not take it seriously.

I've also thrown it on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55094557

On the night after each of his children are born, Ramon dreams of their future spouse just as he'd once dreamed of his own future wife.

And Eddie, his beautiful boy, is going to marry a man with a bright smile and a bruise over one eye.

Ramon is not okay with that at first, but, by the time his son is old enough to walk and interrogate the world, he has accepted what will be. But he also knows the world will not be kind to his son who will love a man and so he does everything he can to ensure his son is strong, manly, and good.

Growing up Eddie shows no signs of his inclination, but this does not worry Ramon or Helena. They have prepared. They have a variety of cross-stitched flags hidden away for whatever identity Eddie eventually comes to them with--gay, bi, queer, or even demisexual.

So. Shannon is a surprise.

After Eddie meets Shannon, every hope and wish Ramon and Helena had for their son seems to diminish. They try to like Eddie's wife, but when Ramon looks at her, all he can see is a barrier between his son and happiness.

When they learn Chris, amazing Chris has CP, Helena whispers in bed one night if Ramon thought it was a sign. She immediately apologizes for the thought and never says anything to anyone else, but sometimes when their eyes meet during Eddie's long absence, he knows what she is thinking.

Then Eddie returns and Shannon leaves and Eddie decides to relocate his entire life with barely a plan and it seemed like everything was falling to pieces.

They just want him to be happy.

But then their son reaches out again. He is smiling again. After each call, Helena frets, wondering if she should apologize, but fearing re-opening the wound if she speaks up again.

Then they meet Buck. On Zoom first and Ramon loses his words for a second finally seeing the man he dreamed of nearly three decades prior. Helena keeps poking his arm in excitement while trying to sound normal. God only knows what Buck thinks.

And then Eddie says he'll be visiting due to work. Buck will be coming along, too. Helena gets out her old cross-stitch flags and fans them across the dining room table. "Which one, do you think? Should we frame it somewhere he can see?"

But. Eddie brings no announcements. He and Buck are friends. Not even dating. Ramon and Helena both keep looking for signs, but find none. When Eddie notices the framed pride flag on the mantle, he only says he hadn't realized his mom had gotten back into cross-stitching. He doesn't even notice it is a pride flag.

After he leaves, Ramon sinks down on the couch next to Helena and asks, "Where did we go wrong?"

When Eddie says he's dating again, they get their hopes up, only to be disappointed once more.

"Ana?" Ramon spits with disgust. "Why are all these women wrecking my boy's future?"

"He said Christopher needs a mother. Why does he think Christopher needs a mother? Did we teach him that?"

They look at each other in horror. Had they done this somehow?

"We will fix it," Ramon promises.

They start by letting Eddie know they love him and are proud of him. No matter what. Ramon makes a point of mentioning one of his friends has a lesbian daughter and how happy they all were she was getting married soon. Helena asks after Buck. Ramon asks after Buck.

They both wonder if Eddie even notices their fascination with Buck, or if he's just happy for the chance to wax poetic on his 'best friend' and spit spite toward Buck's girlfriends: Abby, Ali, Taylor, Natalia.

"He sounds very important to you," Helena says, faintly, after a particularly long tangent on Buck.

"Of course he is," Eddie responds, not even seeming to realize what he's saying. Then he tells them about his will.

They can tell he's braced for anger, but this? This finally makes sense.

"Sounds like a good decision," Ramon says.

"We know you've always done your best for Chris," Helena adds, hoping again that her words lessen the sting of the ones she said years before in frustrated anger.

"Thanks," Eddie says, but he looks confused. "Is everything all right?"

"Of course," they tell him.

When Pepa calls crowing about setting Eddie up with Marisol, Ramon wants to break something.

"I'm sure he doesn't need your help," he tells his sister. He refuses to out his son before he is ready, at least not to anyone other than Helena, but she's his mother and Ramon's wife; she's the exception.

Then finally they get a call.

"What's wrong, mijo?" Ramon asks after Eddie's attempts at conversation start and wither for a full ten minutes.

"Nothing. I don't know why I called."

"Is everything all right with Marisol?"

"Oh, fine. Or, not fine. We just broke up."

"Good," Ramon says before he can stop himself. Then, into Eddie's stunned silence he adds, "She was not right for you."

Eddie barks a short, humorless laugh at that. "Is anyone?" Then, while Ramon is trying to formulate a response that is more than just soothing words, Eddie blurts out, "Buck's bi."

Ramon pumps his fist, glad they're on the phone and not Zoom. Helena sees him and rushes over. "Is that Eddie?" she asks. "Did he--?"

He places his fingers over her lips to quiet her and shakes his head. 'Buck,' he mouths.

Her mouth drops into an oh.

"I'm putting you on speaker. Your mother is here."

He taps the speaker button and places the phone on the table. Helena leans over. "Congratulations to your friend, honey. Do you think he'd like a pride flag? I've got several."

Ramon can see they're abandoning all pretense at subtlety.

"Why would you have pride flags?" Eddie asks, bewildered.

"Just in case," Helena chirps.

"Right." Their son is skeptical. "So if Adriana or Sophia or I--"

"Yes," Ramon cuts in.

"Always," Helena adds.

"That's why we wanted you strong," Ramon adds. "People are not kind."

"I have no idea--thank you?"

"We love you," Helena says. "No matter what."

"No matter who you love, whatever their gender," Ramon continues. "You are ours. Always."

"I--oh, shit, I need to go. Love you!"

"You too."

They do not know how their words send Eddie's mind spinning. They do not see the automatic way he enters the 118 and slowly walks upstairs. Or how, instead of saying 'hello,' he says in an almost dreamlike voice, "I think my parents just gave me the coming out speech?" Because he's practiced that speech before, too, when Chris was younger. He wanted to be ready so he didn't freeze in the moment just in case.

They do not see the double takes his co-workers give him or the presses for information. They do not see how their son's cheeks slowly warm as he processes the phone call more fully. "They told me they loved me whoever I loved. Even if that person is a man."

Nor do they hear Hen ask in a too careful and confused voice, "Did you tell your parents you were queer?"

And their Eddie will laugh and shake his head, because he hadn't. But then, when Buck bounds upstairs with a too-happy smile, a stone will sink in his gut and he will bury his face into hands right then and there because he had. He just hadn't realized.

Ramon and Helena will know none of this until 36 hours later when their boy calls them once more and asks without preamble, "How did you know? I didn't even-- I don't--"

And Ramon hands the phone, still on speaker, to Helena who finally gets to use her years of research and she asks him, "Have you heard of demisexuality? There are many ways to explain, but my favorite is that you have to want someone with your heart before you can want them with your body. You have to share a heart first. Honey, from the first time you mentioned Buck to us, we could tell how much your heart reached for his. And these days, when you talk about him, his love of knowledge, his way with Chris, we see how much of your heart you've already shared."

"I love him, don't I?"

"We're happy for you," Ramon says, but he hates how lost Eddie sounds. Love should make people feel sure and steadfast, not at sea.

That's when Eddie tells them about Tommy.

"Why is Eddie's path so hard?" Helena asks him after they've hung up.

Ramon shakes his head, also wishing he knew.

Eddie calls more often after that. He hasn't told anyone else yet. He says he doesn't know how to tell anyone without it being a confession and he can't confess. He refuses to wreck Buck's happiness.

Their stupid self-sacrificial son.

"You could be his happiness," Ramon argues.

Eddie doesn't listen.

Helena sends two of her flags: a bisexual one for Buck and a demisexual one for Eddie.

She does not know how long Eddie stares at the white, purple, gray, and black flag after he opens the package. How he runs his fingers over the stitches like they burn him until he finally picks it up, clutches it to his chest, and cries because here is actual physical proof of everything his parents have been saying and promising. He hasn't disappointed them. He is loved.

She does not know it takes him two weeks to take the cross-stitched flag with him to work and hang it in his locker. Instead of coming out, he simply re-adjusts. He is demisexual and in love with his best friend. The world keeps turning. Some people notice the flag and he just confirms their questions with a smile and quick word. He doesn't want to talk about it. He just wants to let it be.

Helena and Ramon start calling Buck "your Buck" in phone calls to Eddie. He protests at first, but Ramon says he should have faith.

They're discussing another visit to El Paso when everything changes again. Eddie has them on speaker so he can talk while he cooks.

"Your abuela says you need to bring your Buck home with you this time. She wants to test how well he remembers her pozole recipe," Ramon says.

Helena laughs. "I still cannot believe you never questioned that. Even I had to earn that recipe and your Buck gets it on, what, his second meeting with her?"

"Fifth." The correction does not come from Eddie.

"Buck." That does.

"We will talk later," Helena says. "Love you."

And they hang up even though neither of them wishes to. But if this is the moment that their son finally gets happiness, they aren't going to risk ruining it.

The next hour is nothing but nervous energy. Helena frogs a nearly-finished glove just to keep her hands busy. Ramon cleans.

Their phone chimes with a text. It is from Eddie. And it reads:

'My Buck. Thank you.'

Helena slumps into Ramon and he wraps his arm around her.

Finally.

#fic i want to read #buddie #not!fic #supportive diaz parents #fic

11 notes · View notes

lily-drake · 2 years ago

Note

[Bio!dad Dick] when Dick had amnesia and became 'Ric Grayson' He hooked up with a traveling Sabine. He later discovers when looking into his old things when he was Ric he had been contacted by Sabine who told him he has a daughter named Marinette (maybe 5 years old now?idk), during his time as Batman (with Bruce 'dead', Tim missing, and Damian being well Damian) Dick makes the hard choice to stay out of his daughter's life to keep her safe from the world he lives in, but watches from a distance when he can. Before he knows it more years pass and he wants nothing more than to meet her but feels like it's to late. However everything changes when he goes down for patrol and finds one of his brothers at the batcom with a file of Marinette open, and the words 'Master Fu, ex-guardian' 'Mutlimouse, Known' 'New Guardian?'. And files on a Ladybug hero who bares a striking resemblance of his daughter.

Ric Rolled

Note, Ric/Dick is 21 at the beginning of the story while Sabine is 23.

Ric Grayson liked his job as a taxi driver. He learned a lot about the people in his city and even people from outside of it. But he always felt like he could be doing, or rather was meant for something more. Ever since he had left the hospital once the bullet wound was healed, he felt like he was missing something important from his life. It was his 21st birthday, and he decided to celebrate it at one of the nicer bars in his city.

“Hello, is this seat taken?”

A gentle voice spoke from beside him. Ric slowly turned his head and saw a beautiful woman with charcoal black hair, silver eyes, her makeup was done naturally, and her dress was a beautiful red and gold knee length qipao.

“No, you can sit here.”

He replied, gesturing toward the seat on his right side.

“My name is Sabine.”

She spoke as she gestured for the bartender. He didn’t respond, just took a sip from his glass.

“So what’s brought you here tonight?”

Sabine asked in a honeyed voice. Ric thought about whether or not he should answer that question, his already addled brain found nothing wrong with it though.

“It’s my birthday.”

“I see. You celebrating with anyone else?”

“Afraid not ma’am.”

“I see.”

Her voice was like that of a siren. Enchanting and full of life.

“Let me buy you a drink, whatever you want.”

Ric smiled at the lady and nodded.

“Thanks.”

“Of course. No one should spend their birthday by themselves.”

One drink led to another, which led to another, which led to a night that Ric hadn’t imagined he would have. When he awoke, he was alone, only a note.

Thanks for last night. Hope we can meet again one day, Ric.

~Sabine

Ric let out a groan, his head pounding up a storm. He wasn’t going to be able to work today.

_________

3 years later

Dick Grayson stared at the screen in front of him in shock. He remembered bits and pieces of his time as Ric Grayson, but he liked to pretend that those three years of his life never existed. But as he stared at the information in front of him, he wasn’t so sure he could ignore it for much longer. Turns out he had a daughter, and it had to be his because “Ric Grayson” was listed as the father on the copy of the birth certificate that he had been sent and the girl–his daughter– was just barely 2 years old.

Sabine had sent him a letter, but he had never seen it before as he had moved on from being Ric by that time. It was pure luck he even stumbled upon the letter in the first place when he was cleaning up the rundown apartment that he had stayed in. The overwhelming feeling of need that he felt at the thought of meeting the little girl, Marinette, was so overwhelming he couldn't think of anything else. Even breathing felt like a chore. He imagined being a real father, teaching her to read, watching her color, listening to her stories, he could even teach her gymnastics. It was a wonderful fantasy. But that was it, a fantasy. One that came crashing down with the sound of a katana slicing through a training dummy.

He shook his head as reality came crashing in around him. Bruce was dead, Tim was missing and probably hated him, Jason left the city, and he needed to make sure that Damian was being taken care of, he needed to be Batman and protect Gotham. He took a single minute to mourn what could have been before he stole himself and closed the files. She would be safer and happier without him. From what he saw Sabine was in a relationship with another man in Paris. He could watch after her from a distance, but it would be better if he was as far away from her as possible. It seemed everyone he loved got hurt in some way, and he would make sure that nothing would happen to her by keeping his distance.

_________

8 years later

Dick stared at his phone. There was a picture of a young girl at a sewing machine with the brightest smile. She had hair as black as Sabine’s and his eyes. She was growing up so fast and now that everything was working out he desperately wanted to meet her. But it has already been so long, it was probably too late now. She had Tom as her dad now. He had another daughter now, he and Kori had finally tied the knot, and now they had little Mari’. It wasn’t intentional, in fact it was Starfire that had named her that. It made his heart hurt when he thought of his other daughter. He often wondered if his girls would get along with each other if they ever met.

He sighed as he set down his phone and looked around the cave. He was in Gotham for the weekend just visiting his family—which was finally happy (well, as happy as they could be) together— with his wife and daughter. Star would be down soon, she was just putting Mari’ to bed. Star knew about Marinette and often encouraged him to reach out, and though he was thankful for her support, he was still too scared to approach her.

He could hear the fast click clacking of the Batcomputer’s keyboard, and as Bruce was upstairs he knew that it had to be Tim. Slowly he walked down the stairs to make sure that his brother hadn’t been down here for a consecutive 56 hours again. He had been getting a bit better at taking care of himself, but he knew Tim and which meant that if Tim found something overly important all of Tim’s own needs would be put aside until he was sure that he had finished everything.

“Tim, how long have you been down here?”

He asked as he carefully approached his baby brother from behind. Tim didn’t answer, he just kept clicking and moving things around on the screen. There was strike one, Tim may not always answer, but his shoulders would often either scrunch up or relax. And as neither of those reactions happened he may not have heard him showing how tired he was as Tim was one of the most aware and attentive one out of all of them.

Dick got closer to the screen and looked up to see what was so important to Tim. There files upon files of absolute chaos and destruction filling the screen. It looked horrifying and Dick couldn’t believe that it was real as if this was anywhere on Earth or even in space they would have heard about it by now. On the top and bottom right monitors there were files of three different people open at the moment. On the top there was an image of a girl with strikingly familiar blue eyes, dark raven hair, and a face he was staring at only a few minutes before.

Marinette Lenoire Dupain-Cheng

Identity (Known): Multi-Mouse (First)

New Guardian?

Pupil of ex-Grand Guardian: Wang Fu

Age: 11

Ethnicity: Asian-American

Location: Paris, France

Mother: Sabine Cheng

Birth Father: Ric Grayson

Step-father: Tom Dupain

Dick gulped as he read through the data. He hadn’t told his family about Marinette, but now they would know. He had told Starfire before they had gotten Married, and he was so relieved when she still accepted him, still loved him despite his mistake and cowardness. But he kept reading. He would have to process that his daughter was a hero, a hero at the same age he was. That his efforts to keep her out of this type of life were all in vain and that it didn’t matter now. That he was a failure. He started reading again.

Wang Fu

Identity (Known): Ex-Grand Guardian

Belonged to “The Order of the Guardians”1

Age: Unknown

Ethnicity: Unknown

Mother: Unknown

Father: Unknown

Needs to be further investigated

Then there was the final one.

Ladybug

Identity: Unknown

Age: Unknown

Origin: Unknown

Father: Unknown

Mother: Unknown

Relatives: Unknown

Source of power: Earrings

Power: Creation and restoration

Danger level, high. Need more data.

Tim studied the girl before him. He didn’t like what he saw. He looked at the picture of Ladybug, then the picture of his daughter, then the picture of his daughter in a mouse themed suit, then back to Ladybug. Dick was going to be sick, he was going to pass out, he was going to have a panic attack. He should have just been part of her life. Maybe if he had been in it she wouldn’t have had to become a hero. Maybe it was because he stayed out of her life that she unintentionally followed in his footsteps. He was a terrible father, how would he tell them, how would he tell her? What was he going to do now?

“Dick! Dick, you need to breathe! Come on Dick, please breathe with me.”

There was a distant voice talking to him, but it was so hard to hear over the raging voices in his head. What was he supposed to do now? It was too late for him to just insert himself in her life.

“No it’s not Dick. It’ll be okay. I won’t tell anyone, it’s your news to share.”

That was a nice thought, but there was no way that the others wouldn’t figure it out now.

“That may be true, but they’ll respect your boundaries and wait until you feel comfortable enough to talk about it.”

The voice said. Dick tried to breathe, he could feel his hand against something hard yet soft, and he clutched onto it. He could feel a gentle beating against his hand and slowly he began to even out his breathing all while the voice seemed to rattle on, saying things that he couldn’t seem to process as he focussed all of his efforts into simply breathing. How pathetic, he couldn’t even breathe right.

“You’re doing so go. That’s right, deep breath in, then a slow long breath out.”

Dick leaned forward until his forehead was resting against Tim’s shoulder, silent tears that he hadn’t even realized were falling leaking onto the boy's shirt. He could feel Tim’s arms slowly wrap around him as they both sat on the floor, silent except for the chittering of the bats and the light drip of water from the ceiling.

“What am I supposed to do? It’s too late to meet her, and now she’s in danger, she’s like us. I stayed away to keep her away from this life and it was all useless. It didn’t matter, I could have been in her life all this time but I didn’t and now-”

Dick let out a shuddering sob, unable to finish the sentence. Tim was frozen; he didn't know what to do. He could count on one hand how many times he had actually seen Dick cry. It was always so strange and foreign and he never really knew what to do. So he held Dick even tighter, rubbing his older brother’s back as he cried. He could feel someone’s gaze on them from above and slowly looked up to see Jason and Bruce, eyes wide in shock at the scene. Bruce snapped out of it first, racing down the stairs until he was at Dick’s side only a few moments later.

“Report.”

He barked panickedly, unsure of exactly what to do to help his oldest son.

“Dick found something out and he’s in distress. I’m not allowed to say what about as it’s his business to tell.”

Tim replied automatically, but he never let go of his brother though he glanced over to the Batcomputer.

Bruce looked over the data on the screen and nearly short circuited when he stumbled across the name of the father for Marinette/Multi-Mouse before he glanced down at his son. He understood the distress of his son when he had just discovered that he in fact had a child. Not knowing about Damian until he was ten because Talia had hidden his existence from him had been heartbreaking. He could only imagine what it felt like for Dick who loved those he was close with and trusted with all of his being.

Slowly Bruce bent down glancing at Tim who slowly nodded and backed away a little, but Dick only held on tighter with a slight whimper. Tim looked like he was in pain himself.

“It’s okay Dick, Bruce wants to give you a hug too.”

But Dick didn’t let go of his little brother. The little brother he nearly lost to Ra’s, to The Widower, to Lady Shiva, to the Joker, to so many people. He clung onto the boy even tighter, he didn’t want to lose anyone else.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stay here with you.”

Tim whispered softly, pulling Dick closer.

“You’re going to have to pick both of us up B, he’s not letting go, and I think bad things will happen if I try to move away again.”

Bruce grunted in his ‘I understand and I’m really worried’ way and carefully picked up both of his sons, moving them towards the upstairs family den. Jason had already left to get Alfred, worried about his big brother, but unwilling to admit it.

“We’ll figure everything out, you’ll get to meet her. I think that she’d love to meet you. You could just take Star with you, we could watch Mari’ for you. I’m sure everything will work out, don’t give up. It’s never too late Dick.”

Dick didn’t know how much he believed those words, but Tim was right. He needed to go visit her, he needed to make things right. But until then, he would hold onto the family he had now, because they loved him and he loved them. He loved the daughter that probably didn’t even know existed, and he protected the people he loved. So he would need to protect her, and in order to do that, he would need to finally meet her. He would never give her up, he would never let her down, and never again would he desert her.

Taglist:

@aespades @adrestar @astrynyx @doll246 @queenz-z @toodaloo-kangaroo @crazylittlemunchkin @seraphichana @miraculous-ninja @dorkus-minimus @mysticsoulgirl @ritacrow-blog @snow-leopard-777 @fidget-eep @sometandomstuff333 @lady-phoenix-of-tardis @shreeing @achaoticmess1 @miraculous-ninjabird @liquid-luck-00 @buginetye @stainedglassm @prettylittlebutterflie @laurcad123 @iloontjeboontje @heartsong18 @raeuberprinzessin @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks @jennifer-rose123 @moon5608 @corporeal-terrestrial @skitarii-alpha-c6-555 @saltysugarysembei @phantom120 @kking13 @depressed-bitchy-demon @a-slytherinish-gryffindor

102 notes · View notes

hairstevington · 3 months ago

Text

sooner or later, will i realize?

(Non-binary!Nancy Wheeler)

Summary: Nancy didn’t feel right. Not necessarily wrong, just not right. She didn’t feel like she was the person living her own life. How crazy was that? (Or, the one where Nancy has a gender identity crisis)

WC: 4.8K

Warnings: Gender identity, non-binary character, no romance, references to and established Steve/Nancy (they break up), no upside down, no one dies, Eddie has a crush on Steve but alas this is not a Steddie fic for once, the pOwER of FRiEnDShIP

A/N: For the lovely @marvel-ous-m on their birthday. A long, long time ago I promised you Nonbinary Nancy, and by golly I keep my word! Much love to you, my dear. Thank you for being an amazing friend, a ride-or-die support, a listening ear, and the inspiration for this. I hope you like it ❤️ Ao3 link here

May, 1983

“Nancy Wheeler, will you go to prom with me?”

Steve had made a whole show of it. He was standing in front of her in the lunchroom, roses in hand, his baseball teammates behind him with wide grins and excited energy.

How could she say no?

“Y-Yes,” she said with a small nod.”I’d love to.”

There that word again. Love. He smiled as he kissed her, the sweetest torture.

Nancy never felt like she fit in. Not at home - where she constantly felt like she was trapped in one of those family sitcoms her dad snoozed along to on Saturday mornings. The ones her mom deemed unrealistic despite always attempting to mimic them. Nancy’s parents didn’t seem to like each other, let alone love, and it was the kind of environment where she felt like she just had to play the part of a good daughter that studied and never spoke out of turn, other than the occasional snide remark to her brat of a brother.

Not at school - where she constantly felt like she was meant for bigger and better things. Her GPA was perfect, all the teachers loved her, she was in multiple extracurricular activities, she helped tutor kids who weren’t doing so well in school, basically everything that was expected of a straight-A, perfect student.

Not in her relationship - where she constantly felt like she wasn’t feeling the things she needed to be feeling. Not that she didn’t like Steve! It wasn’t that. She loved him. Well, she told him she loved him. She did love him - um, theoretically - but what did love even mean? What was it supposed to look like? She wanted to be the perfect girlfriend, and Steve treated her as such, but the whole idea of it made her feel uncomfortable. She wasn’t somebody’s girlfriend. She didn’t know how to do that. There were no strict rules, and she didn’t feel like she was good at it, but Steve loved her anyway - the kind that was real, not theoretical - and that made her feel so much worse.

And most of all, she didn’t feel like she fit into herself. It didn’t make a lot of sense to her, but she couldn’t stop herself from being frustrated. Sure, she could be exactly what the world expected her to be, and she was doing it flawlessly, but something was missing. The life she’d curated, the person she’d been, and all the work she’d done didn’t mean anything.

Nancy didn’t feel right. Not necessarily wrong, just not right. She didn’t feel like she was the person living her own life.

How crazy was that?

It didn’t make sense, and she figured she was just a teenage girl. She’d grow into this life. She’d grow into herself. Feeling lost was all part of it.

But still, she wanted more. Or…less. Or…what did she want, exactly?

Not knowing drove her mad.

She had to carry the roses around for the rest of the school day, and she stared at them at each desk as the periods went by.

There were a half dozen in the bouquet. One could easily be taken and plucked, petal by petal. I love him. I love him not.

But she didn’t want to ruin something so beautiful, so she continued contemplating and accepted she wouldn’t get an answer anytime soon.

“Aw, that’s so sweet, honey! We’ll have to go shopping!”

Nancy’s mom was over the moon about her daughter getting a date to prom. Even though Nancy and Steve had been dating for long enough that it had basically been a guarantee. It was Steve’s prom, actually, since Nancy was still a sophomore. So, not only was she going to a big social event where she was expected to act the part of doting, fancy girlfriend, she also wouldn’t have any of her friends around to soften the occasion.

“Mom, do I have to?” Nancy whined. “I can just - I have other dresses. I’ll wear one of those.”

Mrs. Wheeler furrowed her eyebrows. “You don’t want to get a new dress for prom? Who’s daughter are you?”

It was a joke, but that didn’t matter. Nancy was failing the Good Daughter test.

“You’re right,” she said, her lips pressed into a thin smile. “That sounds great, mom.”

That Saturday, they went to the mall. Karen Wheeler was nice and all, but she could be a bit frustrating at times, so Nancy brought Barb as a buffer.

Nancy’s mom stuffed a pile of dresses into her arms. “Here, try these on.”

Nancy looked at the poofy dresses in her mother’s hands. There was enough tulle to swallow her whole, if she wasn’t careful.

“I think I might get lost in there,” Nancy muttered to Barb. Barb chuckled.

“Just - humor me?” Mrs. Wheeler said, holding the dresses out further to encourage Nancy to take them.

When all was said and done, Nancy picked the simplest, cheapest dress she could manage to be seen in. It was a pale pink, just past her knees.

Her eye caught a pantsuit on the rack in the corner, and she couldn’t stop looking at it. A part of her always imagined she’d be wearing one of those once she was older - the journalist that rocked powersuits. That felt right. For once, she had an image of herself that she liked.

“You’d totally rock the suit, you know,” Barb said.

Nancy rolled her eyes. “Girls can’t wear suits to prom.”

Barb shrugged. “Yeah, but my point stands.”

It was weird how being fully supported by her best friend still made her sad.

Prom was fine. Steve was exactly what every teenage girl wanted in a boyfriend. He was charming, popular, and handsome. He snuck a flask in so they could drink, which helped Nancy feel slightly less awkward around the upperclassman.

He liked the dress. He told her he thought she was beautiful no matter what she wore, though.

(Nancy wondered how he’d feel about the suit, but she didn’t ask in fear of him changing his mind).

As she was drinking punch, Steve pulled her onto the floor for a slow dance.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you too,” she said quickly, a reflex.

“Do you?” he asked back.

His question was genuine, but not judgmental. He was asking it as if he would accept either answer for what it was.

“I -” she stammered. “Why are you asking me that?”

Steve shrugged, his hands still at her waist. “Dunno, I guess I just - things have felt different between us lately. Are you having a good time here? Cuz if you’re not, we can bolt. I’m almost out of whiskey anyway.”

He was almost saying the right things.

Nancy pressed her lips together and nodded. “It’s okay,” she said. “It’s your prom, you deserve to have fun with your friends.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Nance,” he teased, shaking her gently. “When are you gonna learn that you’re more fun than any of my friends?”

She had no idea how that could possibly be true, and yet she believed him. Well, she believed that he believed it. It was just that Nancy wasn’t Steve’s type. He’d never dated anyone like her before. He didn’t care about grades or college or his resume. He didn’t go shopping for a tux with his dad - instead, he just grabbed one of the many suits he already had in his closet from over the years.

She bit her lip and decided to tell the truth - or, perhaps the whiskey did.

“Do you ever feel like things are just - off?” she asked. “Like, lifewise, I mean.”

His grip on her hips loosened as he shrugged again. “No, not really.”

That was the moment Nancy realized something. He didn’t get her - probably never would.

“I’m not feeling well,” she said as she pulled away. “I’m gonna head home I think. But you should stay!”

He looked disappointed. “Nance…” he said.

She just shook her head and smiled, letting him know that he could let her go. “Have fun. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

A kiss on the cheek and out into the night she went. Steve would never understand, but she knew it was the right thing to do.

They broke up not too long after that.

September, 1983

Nancy’s junior year was going to be a big one.

First, she had college to worry about, but that was what she’d spent her last five or so years preparing for. She knew she’d get into any program she wanted, really.

This was good. This would be good. College would be different.

It had to be different.

She didn’t even notice being single, really. Honestly, it was for the best. She was way less stressed when she only had to focus on her own problems. Well, her actual problems plus the ones that came from the person she was pretending to be. It was a whole mess in her head and she had no idea how to deal with any of it.

She talked to Barb about it a few times. Barb said what Nancy kept telling herself - that’s what being 17 is like, and eventually it will get easier.

Nancy was too busy studying and doing extracurriculars to do too much tutoring, but her science teacher said that if she tutored this one other student, she’d be excused from having to write the final lab report. This assignment was notoriously a monster, and Nancy hadn’t been looking forward to it. So, when the opportunity presented itself…

“That sounds great,” Nancy told Mrs. O’Donnell. “Who’s the student?”

“Well, he’s a bit of a problem in the classroom, to be completely transparent…” her teacher said. “He has to retake his senior year, and the faculty thinks that maybe you could help him develop some better habits.”

Oh, so now she was supposed to act like freaking Mother Teresa?

“Okay,” she agreed with a smile. “I’ll do my best.”

October, 1983

Eddie was an academic disaster.

O’Donnell had really buried the lead. Not only did he have no idea what was going on and no intention to pay attention in class ever, but he also never did his homework, never had his textbooks, and never stopped talking.

Their tutoring relationship consisted of meeting after school twice a week, which meant that for two hours a week Nancy had to try not to pull out her hair or strangle him.

And then, when he miraculously got a C+ on his first test, she felt somewhat fulfilled. Evidently he did as well, because he started working minutely harder after that.

“What if we did this whole study thing at the diner or something instead of this stuffy room?” he asked her. “You know, to celebrate.”

Nancy’s jaw went slack. “I, um. Well, I don’t know if that’s - I’m not really looking to date right now.”

Eddie laughed. “Pssh, don’t flatter yourself,” he said. “I’m not asking you out, Wheeler, I’m asking if you’ll let me buy you a milkshake or something as a token of appreciation for maybe being the reason I graduate this year. Would that be acceptable, your highness?”

It still sounded like he wanted to date her. To her, anyway.

“That’s fine,” she agreed. “But I’m serious -”

“Respectfully,” Eddie told her, “I have zero interest in you like that. You’re very much not my type, and I’m digging the whole bachelor thing I’ve got going on right now.”

“Sure,” Nancy said, dubiously.

And then, they went to the diner, where he chewed with his mouth open and talked about his club instead of biology while Nancy sipped on her milkshake.

She didn’t care much for him, honestly. He was just a guy, but at least he was honest. He also lacked subtlety at all, which was how Nancy clocked him checking someone out behind her immediately.

“So, how’s that bachelor life treating you?” she teased.

“What?” he asked, snapping himself out of whatever thought he’d been having. Nancy smirked then turned in her seat to find out who he’d been looking at.

Instead, all she saw was Steve was on a date with a pretty girl - one who looked like she wasn’t pretending to be what he needed. She turned back in her seat.

“Oh,” she said.

“What?” Eddie repeated, more confused than ever.

She shrugged. “Nothing, just my ex over there.”

Eddie looked at her, then at Steve, then back at her. “Jesus Christ, I forgot you and Steve dated.”

“You know him?”

“Everybody knows him.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before responding.

“Right,” she said. “Well, anyway, let’s get back to studying.”

Eddie groaned. “I thought we had an agreement.”

“To study at the diner?”

“Well, yeah,” he replied, “but I figured I could distract you enough that you’d forget about the studying part.”

“That’s literally why we’re doing any of this,” she reminded him.

“Woooooow,” Eddie said back. “And here I thought we were friends.”

Nancy scoffed. “Why?”

Eddie just laughed. “Because you do shit like that,” he answered. “I dunno, I like that you’re no-nonsense. No-Nonsense-Nance. Say that five times fast.”

“I’d rather not.” Eddie opened his mouth, so she cut him off. “I’d rather you didn’t, either.”

He chuckled, rolling his eyes. “Whatever,” he said. “What should I call us, then? If we’re not friends, I mean. Or dating, as you’ve made clear multiple times now.”

“I don’t know, I just tutor you,” Nancy told him. “Why do we have to label it at all?”

Eddie smirked as he popped a french fry into his mouth. “I just wanna know who I have to thank when I’m accepting my Nobel Prize for best in biology, or whatever.”

Nancy eyed him, dubiously, but played along. “I’m glad you’ll be prepared, but maybe focus on a diploma first.”

Eddie laughed, then threw a fry in her direction. “Alright, smartass,” he said. “Anyway, I’m not a labels guy, either.”

“No?”

“No,” he confirmed. “I’m a bit too outside of the box for them.”

For a fleeting moment, Nancy wondered if maybe would understand her the way that no one else seemed to. For whatever reason, for all that he was, she thought that maybe he’d get it. He clearly didn’t fit in, just like her - not in their small town. He was just a lot louder about it than she was.

And then, wildly enough, they actually did become something like friends.

It happened after a few more weeks of tutoring and occasional trips to the diner. Nancy went to Eddie’s home to help him study. At first, she’d balked at the idea, telling him she wasn’t looking for drugs or anything, to which he just laughed and said, “It’s not a drug den, Wheeler, it’s a trailer.”

She replied, “with drugs in it.”

And he said, “well yeah, obviously.”

He made her laugh. He was funny! He was silly and dramatic and everything Nancy had never been. It was freeing to be around him.

And then he started bringing up Steve. Like, a lot.

November, 1983

“What was it like?” he asked. “Dating him?”

Nancy shrugged. “It was nice.”

Eddie winced as if she’d just dragged Steve across the coals. “Oof. Nice? Must have been awful.”

He lit a cigarette, which Nancy scrunched her nose at. He rolled his eyes and put it out.

“It wasn’t awful,” she clarified. “It was just - it wasn’t right.”

“What wasn’t right about it?”

Nancy sighed. “Why do you want to know?”

Eddie shrugged, reaching for the cigarette again from muscle memory but stopping himself.

“My curiosity has killed enough cats to fill a cemetery, Wheeler,” he told her. “I mean, it’s King Steve. The guy everyone wants. Cool, popular, athletic. And he chose you, for some godforsaken reason.” Nancy glared at him, causing him to laugh. “Listen, you know I’m kidding, right? You’re cute and smart and ambitious and talented and all that crap.”

“Cute?” Nancy repeated, kind of hating that he had put that adjective first.

“Once again, not hitting on you,” Eddie said with a grin. “It just seemed mismatched to me.”

“And who’d be the right match?”

“For you?” he asked. “Fuck if I know.”

“For Steve,” she corrected.

Eddie clicked his tongue to his teeth. “I dunno. A blonde, perhaps.”

Nancy giggled. “A blonde?”

“Yeah, a blonde,” he echoed. “With, ya know.” He gestured in front of his chest, implying Steve’s perfect match would have enormous breasts.

“Okay, gross,” Nancy said back. “I’m not, like, one of the guys, you know.”

“Never said you were,” he replied.

But the weird thing was, Nancy felt more comfortable around Eddie than she’d been feeling lately around even Barb. Maybe it was because she felt like she still had to keep appearances up with Barb, or something.

“Can I tell you something personal?”

Eddie looked at her as if the question was ridiculous. “Uhh, yeah,” he said. “Be my guest.”

Nancy looked down at the glass of water in her hand (actually, the water was in a mug, but whatever), mustering up the courage to try to say out loud the things she couldn’t even think about coherently.

“Sometimes it feels like there’s something wrong with me,” she said. “Like I don’t fit in anywhere.”

Eddie leaned forward in his chair, intrigued. “Really?” he wondered. “But you’re, like, the perfect image of the brainiac teenage girl.”

She shook her head. “But I’m not.”

“Huh,” he said, furrowing his eyebrows. “So who are you, really?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said. “Do you know who you are?”

“Depends on who’s asking.”

“I am.”

He took a deep breath. “Fine,” he began. “I’m a freak, Wheeler. I don’t fit in either, you know. And people know that - I make sure they do - but I’m not being entirely honest either. Like, I am and I’m not.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he continued, “that I’m yelling all kinds of bullshit all the time so people can’t hear what I’m really thinking.”

Maybe they weren’t so different after all.

“I understand,” Nancy said.

“Yeah?”

She nodded. “I feel like I’m acting all the time. Even at home. It’s exhausting.”

“What about right now?” he asked. “Are you acting?”

She took a moment to think, despite already knowing the answer.

“No.”

She hadn’t even realized it until he asked, but yes. It was the truth.

“Me neither,” he said.

Huh.

January, 1984

Nancy got paired up with someone in her class for a partner project. They both had to read a book and present about it. Nancy notoriously hated group projects, and this one was about to be even worse, because she recognized who she was assigned to work with.

It was the girl Steve was with at the diner.

“Robin, right?” Nancy asked as she sat down.

Robin looked unimpressed. “Yeah,” she replied. “We’ve met before.”

“Oh,” Nancy said. “Sorry.”

This was going to be horrible. Her ex boyfriend’s current girlfriend? Did the world HATE HER?

“I’ve already read the book,” Robin said.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Me, too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

So, the worst part about all of this was that Nancy couldn’t even be mad at Robin. She was actually really smart and lovely.

Ugh. Annoying!

“Wait, Robin Buckley?” Eddie asked after hearing Nancy complain about it for a hot minute. “Yeah, no. Her and Steve aren’t dating.”

Nancy put her hands on her hips. “How could you possibly know that?”

He shrugged. “People say all kinds of shit and think I’m not paying attention. It’s my superpower.”

“I thought your superpower was ticking me off.”

“That too.”

She rolled her eyes. “So, they’re not dating, but he’s spending all this time with her?”

Eddie gestured to the two of them. “If you haven’t noticed, friendship exists, Wheeler.”

Okay, yeah, he was right. But that didn’t mean he had to be so smug about it.

“This is a Barb conversation, isn’t it?” she asked.

“I fear so,” Eddie replied. “Actually, I don’t fear. Please talk to Barb about this, because I’m well out of my element. Come back if you ever have a question about Tolkien or how long to microwave leftovers.”

She battled a smile. “Okay, fine.”

Eddie grabbed the back of his neck, nervously. “Uh, I actually did wanna talk to you about something, though.”

She raised her eyebrows. “What?”

“I just feel like I haven’t told you yet, because I didn’t think we’d be friends, and now we’re friends and the longer I don’t tell you the more I feel shitty about it, so -”

“Eddie,” she interrupted. “What is it?”

He took a deep breath, then let his hands fall to his sides with a slap. “Okay, so you know how you dated Steve?” Nancy eyed him, irritated. “Right, of course you’d know that. Okay, so we talked about it once and I said I thought his type was blondes. And then I never brought it up again.”

“Right.”

“Okay, so,” he continued. “Maaaaaybe I’d much prefer his type to be gangly long-haired metalheads who live in trailer parks.”

Nancy blinked a couple times.

“What?”

“Half the town has already figured out I’m queer,” he explained. “I figured maybe you’d heard something by now, and - and I’d rather you hear it from me.”

She blinked some more.

“Nancy, say something?”

Some more blinking, then finally -

“You like Steve?”

“Oh, yeah. Bigtime.”

“Since when?”

“Pretty much since the moment I laid eyes on the beautiful bastard. Not that we’ve ever hung out, or anything.”

This was a lot to process. She didn’t care about Eddie liking guys, and honestly she didn’t care about him liking Steve, but she couldn’t help but see all the pieces coming together in her head, like a puzzle that had taken months to be solved.

“Ohhhhhh,” she said.

“Ohhhhhh?” he echoed. “Is that, like - are we good, or should I start running? If you’re gonna come after me, I request a thirty second head start.”

Nancy shook her head with a light laugh. “I’m not going to come after you.”

“Good, cuz you’d win,” he said, throwing some finger guns in the air.

Nancy had forgotten she’d told him about how good of a shot she was. Whoops.

“Exactly,” she replied with a smirk. Now, back to the conversation at hand. “It’s okay, that you - um - that you like Steve. I’m not mad, or - I mean it’s weird, don’t get me wrong, but it’s okay.”

“Weird?” he repeated, his eyebrows raised in amusement. “I tell you I’m into your ex boyfriend and all you have to say is it’s weird?”

“What else am I supposed to say?”

Eddie threw his hands in the air. “I dunno!” he shouted. “It’s just not - I mean, normally girls would stick their noses up and walk away, tell me I’m a pig, call me all sorts of things. You’d have every right to do that, by the way. I mean, just while I’m laying it all out there, I am basically in love with Steve Harrington. Well, as in love as a guy can be with another guy he barely knows. Anyway, I don’t know why you’d still wanna be my friend, honestly, because any other girl would never get over something like this.”

Hmm.

The thing that stuck out to Nancy after all of that - besides Eddie saying he loved Steve - was the repeated word girl.

Normal girls.

Any other girl.

She cleared her throat. “Well I’m - I’m not -”

Nancy didn’t have an end to that sentence. It merely existed as a feeling, not a thought.

She sat down on the couch, and Eddie quickly followed suit.

“What is it?” he asked. “Did this fuck everything up? Just tell me, man.”

Man.

The deepest breath she’d ever taken.

“I don’t feel like a girl,” she admitted. “I never have. Something has always felt wrong about it, and I don’t understand why.”

She picked at the threads on her skirt and wondered if her whole world was about to stop.

But it didn’t.

“Do you feel more like a dude?” he asked, genuinely.

She shook her head. “No, not really. I don’t feel like anything.”

Eddie stared straight ahead with a pensive look on his face before turning back to her.

“I’m gonna be so fuckin’ real with you dude,” he said. “I have no idea what you mean.”

Nancy chuckled. “Me neither.”

“Like,” Eddie continued as he leaned back on the couch. “What’s being a woman even supposed to feel like?”

Nancy shrugged. “That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out,” she replied. “What does it feel like to be a man?”

He truly thought about the question, then shrugged back. “I mean, I pee standing up.”

Nancy rolled her eyes. “Whatever, I just - I’ve never told anyone that before.”

“No one?”

“No one.”

Despite Eddie’s confusion and occasional assholery, Nancy trusted that this secret wouldn’t leave the trailer.

“Well,” he said. “You don’t have to be anything. I mean, not exclusively.”

Nancy looked at him, confused. “How would that work?” she asked. “Like, what does that even mean? Why am I feeling like this?”

She put her head in her hands, then felt a soothing hand on her back.

“Everyone is different, Nancy,” he said. “There are no rules. Even if there were rules, that shit is made to be broken. You can be whatever you wanna be.” For a moment, his words actually did bring her some comfort, but then he added - “Oh, unless you’re diverging from societal norms - then you’ll be a freak. But other than that.”

Nancy choked out a light laugh at his joke.

“You don’t even have to be Nancy,” Eddie continued. “You could pick a new name. Like - ooh, what about Falcon?”

Nancy sat up again and looked at him as if he were crazy.

“What? No!”

“Or…Wheels?” he suggested. “That’s part of your name already, and it’s neutral.”

“No.”

“Hotwheels.”

“Absolutely not.”

“What? It’s a compliment!” As he kept throwing ridiculous names out there, Nancy felt herself relaxing. “Damn, I really thought you’d like that one. Okay, hmm. What about, Little Body, Big Perm?”

Nancy scoffed. “We have the same hair,” she told him.

“Incorrect,” he insisted. “Mine is way more metal.”

“I’m not trying to be metal -”

“What about Prissy McNoFun?” he teased. “I feel like I’m really onto something there.”

Nancy rolled her eyes. “How about I just pick out my own name?” she asked. Then, she realized the silent agreement that maybe a nickname was something to actually consider. “I mean, not yet,” she backtracked. “But someday, maybe.”

Eddie nodded. “Aye, aye, Falcon.”

April, 1984

Nancy stopped wearing long skirts and started wearing jeans. Eddie had given her a couple of shirts to borrow, but she mainly wore them at home. He exclusively lent her ones that were relatively free of devil imagery, but the man really had a certain style to everything he owned.

Nancy and Robin got an A on their project, and Nancy found herself not feeling mad about whatever relationship Robin had with Steve anymore.

“Hey, can I say something that you’ll maybe hate?” Robin asked after class. Nancy nodded. “I really wanted to dislike you. You broke my best friend’s heart and all that.”

Nancy smiled. “I wanted to dislike you, too.”

Robin chuckled. “I never heard your side of things.”

“About the breakup?” Nancy asked. “I’m sure Steve covered it.”

“He doesn’t even know why you did it,” Robin informed.

“I didn’t think he’d understand,” Nancy said back.

Robin shrugged. “He’s more understanding than you know,” she replied. Then, with raised eyebrows, she added - “I like your new look, by the way.”

Robin left after that and disappeared down the hall, but as Nancy looked down at herself she realized she liked her new look, too.

She was getting closer to that thing that she’d always been searching for.

Nancy did tell Steve, eventually, and Robin had been right - Steve was a lot more understanding than ever anticipated. He even offered some of his own clothes.

Eddie graduated. The year after, Nancy and Robin graduated. Nancy and Eddie had kept in touch, but weren’t seeing each other every day like they’d used to. It didn’t matter though, because Eddie would always be the one that held the door open to a new life.

There weren’t really words for it, but somehow Nancy found other similar people at Emerson. It took some time to really figure it all out, but the trick was not restricting anyone into any particular role or gender or category.

December, 1986

Nancy went back to Hawkins for the holidays, and met up at that diner with Eddie.

“Lookin’ sharp, Wheeler,” he said with a grin.

Nancy smiled. “Please, call me Falcon,” they joked.

And so it was. Nancy finally felt like they fit in.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Check out my masterlist for other fics if you liked this one!!

#nonbinary #nancy wheeler #writing #st fic #eddie munson

5 notes · View notes

kradogsrats · 8 days ago

Text

it's my beautiful and perfect daughter who has never done anything wrong ever, in her whole life, etc.

BUT HER HAIR HER HAAAAAIR WE'RE GOING CRITICAL Y'ALL

#they'd better put this in the game as a skin #claudia

24 notes · View notes

u-adskinaesthetic · 8 months ago

Text

The Pied Piper: Chapter 1

The Deal

Thank you for coming to read this. I just had to put this somewhere out of my mind before I became mentally insane. Disclaimer: This is my OWN version of the Pied Piper. He will be completely different(somewhat) to the fables I have read. I refuse to write a romance story where the original piper kidnapped children!! :(

You couldn’t sleep.

There was always the scratching, crunching, munching, screeching, rasping, and tapping whispering into the hollow night of the town. The rats scurrying, never tired, bloomed of many, overran the multitudes of houses and alleyways.

They never stopped coming, evading the hand of death. Whatever the townspeople tried was trifled by the luck of those diseased-filled animals. There was no hope, and thinking about it made your night unbearably loud.

How long has it been since you’ve heard wings flapping gleefully in the air? The crickets chirping, and the bushes tingling against the mighty wind?

You push the covers away tiptoeing to the open window to bathe in the silk of the moonlight. You looked down where you could oversee the town, once dancing in a silent beauty now thrumming with thousands of pattering feet.

Your father, the mayor, was none the wiser, thinking that trapping you inside this tiny tower would keep away the rats from crumbling your beauty with their filth. But he was wrong, very wrong.

A squeak came from the corner, and you’ve never turned your head slower. A rat, perhaps pursuing the role of an acrobatic, jumped from your nightstand to your high-stacked books that came tumbling down from the corner. It lands on the cobblestone floor with a loud ‘thump’ running towards the black hole chipped away in the walls.

You sighed defeated, thinking it useless to restore the wall for the hundredth time now. You gazed back into the town of Hamelin, wondering, wishing there was someone here to save you.

You didn’t want to be stuck inside a damp, yet cold room for the rest of your life. You would’ve done anything to escape, but you’ve tried every possible way.

Ropes to climb down. Sticky fingers find their way to a guard's key. Hiding and then escaping. Your father was very perceptive only when you tried to leave, and anger started to boil inside you when you knew the reason for your hidden freedom.

Though, it didn’t matter to think of it now when there was nothing you could’ve done but wait. But tonight, you wished to the moon in hopes that someone would help set you free.

……

The next day came like a loud toll bell, ringing with the wails of exasperated residents rather than the clanging metal. “Please sir, we have to find a way to rid of these rodents!” A lady shouted cradling the wailing child in her arms.

“We’ll have no food left if this keeps up!” Expressed the butcher angrily.

“Is there no way we can rid of the rats?!” and the complaints of the crowd came well after.

The mayor shot his arms into the air and immediately the crowd held a captive silence. His eyes slid side to side, lips bundled into a nasty frown. “Is there no one here who can erase this problem? Are we to forever live in a land brazen with disease?”

You rolled your eyes, tempted to shout from your prison to berate your father for his lack of effort. He always seemed to gather a simple solution out of all his problems.

“Here me now the good people of Hamlin! If one of you brave souls are to rid of all these rats by the morrow, then my daughter’s hand shall be yours!”

Bursts of surprised gasps erupted by the group, and the chattering grew. Your face burning red, the anger you’ve long longed to spill over.

How dare your father try to win you off as some sort of prize?

Before you shouted protestations, there came a bellow from the crowd. “If I rid of all the rats, you promise your daughter’s hand in marriage?”

The attention turned to the voice, authoritative and bright, of a stranger, and immediately yours, as well as everyone’s interest, was peaked.

A man stood pridefully tall, colors of the rainbow covering every inch of his skin and smiled towards the mayor. From the way you were pinning down, it was hard to tell which color combinations adorned him, only seeing gold sparkling from the rays of the sun.

Yet, it did not matter what he looked like or what he sounded like, only what atrocity spewed from his mouth.

The mayor bellowed back with a tainted smile. “That of what I said is true. Rid the rats for me and I shall give you what I promised.”

“I will not participate in this feud you have promised father. Give him a bag of gold instead of my hand!” You’ve wished to keep your mouth closed and your thoughts empty, but you’ve done so long enough.

But it was a pity knowing your father did not love you from his heart for his lust for gold overtook his desires like a viper devouring its prey.

“My daughter,” he arched his head upwards, his teeth a grind with eyebrows furrowed deep with anger. “You will not speak of this subject anymore! This is your only and final warning!”

You spat, and down it traveled until it landed on the top of his bald head. You retreated into the tower where your tears flowed into a tiny river stream. He needed you only as his weapon, a prize that can never be won.

“Forgive her,” said the mayor to the strange man with a formally wide smile. “She is not welcoming of guests.”

“All is forgiving good sir,” The strange colorful man bowed, his hair tipping down to an arch. His eyes slit like a venomous liar as he peered into the mayor's face. “When do I begin?”

The king gave a wicked smile in return, almost as if they are challenging themselves for a grand dual. “First your name so that if you succeed, I’ll do myself a favor to remember you.”

The man planted his head high again, and he spoke clearly. “The Pied Piper.”

#creativewriting #shortread #pied piper #chapter 1 #story #love #brainrot #wierd #idk #im bored

3 notes · View notes

zprites · 9 months ago

Text

Lucifer x Female OC Below!!!

Oh hey, wow it's been a while since I've shared anything I've written, huh? Well I have good news! I have multiple wips that I will finish this year so be on the look out (nothing TMNT related unfortunately, for my hyperfixations have gone all over the place... oops).

Yes, I fell down the Hazbin/Helluva hole and I don't see me leaving anytime soon. So read this! I wrote a little drabble for @unknownfanartist (who I love and adore, no matter how much she stinks <3) with her OC, Penelope (you can find her info here) and Lucifer. Just a small SFW brainworm that ate at me earlier and I had to stop writing my Alastor fic to appease the little wriggler.

This is not proof-read in the slightest so if you see any mistakes, no you don't. *points a can of silly string right at you*

Enjoy!

Diamonds and Coal

When left alone with his thoughts, Lucifer found himself wondering where he went wrong. Sure, he had the chance now to be there for his daughter, supporting her endeavors to lead Sinners down the path of redemption, no matter how fruitless he believed the idea to be. That was until he got word from Heaven that the first ever redeemed soul had crossed the pearly gates during the last extermination, and everything he knew had been pulled into question.

Was he wrong to dismiss Sinners so easily? He supposed he could chalk up his view to his own regrets in life. Countless nights were spent feeling bitter over his previous actions, hating the fact he granted free will to all of humanity without so much as a second thought. He even began to hate himself for it.

But now, watching Charlie bring her dream to life, something he tried and ultimately failed to do, he knew that he made the right choice. He’d met so many Sinners who have chosen to call the hotel their ‘home’ and honestly, he was growing rather fond of them all.

Especially her.

Penelope… After meeting the woman who was the hotel’s resident art therapist all those months ago, the woman was still an enigma to him. She was quiet, so much so that he sometimes forgot she was in the same room as him, though that was in the beginning. As of late, he couldn’t walk into a room without first looking for the artist and upon spotting the brunette, Lucifer would make his way towards her and start a conversation. Well, ‘conversation’ was putting it mildly. They were more one-sided than anything. Not that he minded one bit, he could talk uninterrupted for hours.

He just couldn’t figure out what her deal was.

She often kept to herself, really only interacting with other guests to help with exercises that would hopefully help them through whatever hang ups and traumas they may have. And it seemed like she had a lot of her own, from what little Lucifer could glean from her. Yet he couldn’t help but feel drawn to her. It didn’t help that she was beautiful.

He had no idea when his compliments on her art shifted to flirtatious remarks aimed at her. Maybe it was when he found out about Lilith spending the past seven years in Heaven after their separation, wanting nothing to do with her family and actively trying to thwart all the hard work their daughter has put into this place? Or maybe it was when he first realized his stance on Sinners was not fair to the souls who were giving redemption an honest chance?

It was true he thought that all Sinners were nothing but violent psychopaths. He had even thought the same about her, assuming whatever she had done while she was alive was something that could never be forgiven. But he was proven wrong - not all Sinners were like that. Maybe she wasn’t as well. After all, she was choosing to help people with her craft. She couldn’t really be all that bad, right?

The answer to that question came to him much quicker than he’d anticipated.

It was like any other night. He was up late as usual, looking over a seemingly never ending pile of paperwork that only grew each morning. However as he looked over some new plans for the hotel that Charlie had handed him earlier, the words on the page were beginning to blur, a clear sign that he needed to take a break.

With a groan, he pushed himself up to his feet and stepped out of his room. Some fresh air would do him some good…

Though as he walked towards the expansive balcony near the rear of the building, he noticed a light on at the end of the hallway, a familiar humming emanating from the room. Curiosity got the better of him and he found himself moving on his own towards the artist’s studio. Inside, Penelope sat on a stool in front of a large canvas that almost reached the ceiling, the colors appearing blocky and barely resembling any shapes except at the bottom where she worked. After looking at the painting for a few moments, he could glean that it appeared to be a depiction of water, the figure of a woman laying underneath it, reaching towards the surface while several air bubbles escaped her open mouth.

As if sensing she was being watched, the woman ceased her song and turned to look at where he stood in the doorway.

A nervous chuckle escaped him as he waved. “Ah, knock knock…?”

Way to sound like an idiot, idiot, he chastised himself mentally.

“Can I help you with something, sir?” Penelope asked, her voice holding a monotonous and even tone that seemed to never leave her. He didn’t know when he’d grown to love her voice regardless of how uninterested she may sound. It was part of her charm.

“I told you to stop calling me that, Penelope. Just Lucifer is fine.” He said. The woman raised a brow at him before turning back to her painting, dipping her brush into some brown before gently swiping the bristles over the canvas.

Lucifer watched in silence as she worked, captivated by the way she layered each brushstroke with careful precision. God, she was stunning. The large overhead light casted almost an ethereal aura around her, catching the dust particles that sparkled as they floated along. She looked so peaceful like this.

His gaze traveled from her face to her fingers, pale skin turning dark at her fingertips where she held her brush with care as she swirled it in a pool of deep blue on her palette. Not only was she captivating, but she was a damned good artist that clearly took pride in her craft, pouring nothing but love into each piece. Several of her works graced the halls and spaces of the hotel, like the portrait of Sir Pentious that hung in the foyer. Many of the guests even had their own Penelope-original in their rooms, alongside their own art that was crafted during their stays. He was only slightly disheartened that he didn’t have one of his own. Maybe he should ask. Would it be weird to ask? None of the others had to ask. No, it would definitely be weird to ask. Oh- crap she was looking at him.

He gave her a half-smile as her brows furrowed. He could swear a hint of distrust flash in her amber eyes as she spoke. “What?”

“What?” He repeated.

Penelope rolled her eyes. “You’ve been staring at me.”

“Oh, I am? I was uh… I-”

His words were coming out in a disjointed mess, crimson eyes shifting as his hands moved about as he struggled to find the right words. It wasn’t until he had to forcibly stop himself and take a deep breath that he got his thoughts in order. “I’m just trying to figure you out.”

She blinked at him, her face staying perfectly blank as she turned her attention back to the canvas. “Well, don’t.”

“Oh c’mon, I know next to nothing about you!” Lucifer remarked, a small seed of hope planting in his chest that maybe he would finally get her to open up tonight.

“Good, let’s keep it that way.” Penelope brushed some of the blue onto a bit of gray, gently dabbing the brush so as to not mix the colors too much.

“No no no, not ‘good’. It’s not good.” He let out a small laugh though anything about the situation was humorous. “You make a big deal about using art as a way of expressing emotions and feelings yet you keep yourself so closed off. Oh, don’t look at me that way. Of course I noticed, and I’m sure everyone else has too.”

Her focus was on him as he spoke, eyes cold as if she didn’t appreciate him voicing his observations on her. A sigh left her upon realizing he wouldn’t be backing down from this and resigned herself to her fate. “I keep to myself because it keeps me safe.”

“Safe from what?” He questioned, glad that he was finally getting something out of her but eager to know anything she was willing to give him.

A stretch of silence passed between them until she gave him an answer. “From getting hurt…”

Confusion gripped his entire body as his forehead creased. “What are you talking about? No one here wants to hurt you.”

“I know.” She stated plainly before cursing under her breath. Setting down the brush she grabbed a towel, pressing it to a small area on the canvas in an effort to minimize the damage of her mistake.

Lucifer was beginning to understand now.

“Is that why you’re so reserved? Because you’re afraid of someone getting too close, afraid of someone getting to know you, earning your trust, only for them to hurt you in the end.”

Penelope’s body grew rigid as his words hung heavy in the air and he knew he hit the nail in the coffin. So that’s what this was all about, he thought to himself, feeling almost proud that he’d figured it out, but that feeling was slowly fading away as the silence stretched longer. He hoped he didn’t take it too far and mess things up. How could he fix this?

“You know, not everyone is like that.” He began while taking a step closer to her, bringing his hands behind his back to fiddle with his fingers. “There are good people out there, even in this infernal afterlife that seems to only bring out the worst inside everyone.”

She hesitantly met his eyes as he paused, taking a second to swallow the nerves that came to him suddenly before getting to his point. “Like you.”

“Me?” Doubt somehow finding its way into her monotoned way of speaking as her nose crinkled in disbelief.

Cute, he told himself but quickly squashed that thought down.

“Yeah!” He exclaimed. “You’re kind and have incredible talent! And you’re patient with everyone here, even if they’re getting on your last nerve with using the wrong type of brushes or wasting supplies. Sometimes I feel as though you’re the only sane one here. Well, besides me, of course.” He let out a small huff of amusement at his own joke before composing himself.

“And… And even if you don’t believe me, just know that you’re pretty special, especially in a place like this. A brilliant diamond amongst a sea of coal. Anyone would be lucky to have the chance to get to know you, the real you.” Lucifer expressed, his eyes shining with the same truthfulness he spoke with.

Penelope regarded him for a beat, golden pools encased in black flitting back and forth between his own eyes before shaking her head. “I’m not someone worth knowing.”

“I think you are…” He whispered.

Then her shoulders shook, a silent giggle wracking her frame as he felt his jaw go slack. In the several months of knowing her, he had never seen her laugh, granted it wasn’t a full one but still! He did that! He made her feel happy!

He wanted to do it again, and again, and again. Suddenly he wondered what it would feel like to be the reason for her happiness. He wanted to touch her, to hold her close, to tell her how much he cared for her before kissing her, to-.

Oh…

Her amusement quieted down and he could swear that the corners of her mouth were twitching. “Then you’re more of an idiot than I thought you were.”

Lucifer felt his heart do a flip as he noticed the smile that graced her lips, so small that he almost missed it.

He was in deep shit.

“Well!” He all but shouted, clearing his throat as he scratched the back of his neck. “I should uh- go! Gotta get back to the office before the paperwork decides to have babies, hah ha…”

He clapped his hands together as he turned to leave with awkward movements, almost falling on his ass in the process. As he reached the door he looked over his shoulder to see that her smile was gone but her eyes still gleamed with mirth.

“You have a good night, Penelope.”

He was barely two steps away when he heard her call back to him in a gentle tone instead of her usual even voice. “You too, Lucifer.”

With a dumb grin that refused to go away, he trekked back to his room, ignoring the mountains of paper that surrounded his desk and making a beeline for his bed, flopping onto the plush comforter. He had no idea how long he stayed there, laying on his back and staring up at the patterned, red fabric that draped over the canopy frame as he replayed the interaction with Penelope over and over again in his mind. It wasn’t until morning broke over the horizon that he realized he’d spent all night thinking about her.

It wasn’t until he heard the rest of the hotel come to life that he moved, getting up to seek out some coffee. As he left his room, he caught sight of a thin rectangle wrapped in brown parchment paper. He picked up the package that was clearly a painting and saw a note taped onto the front that read ‘Even a diamond needs reminding that they’re someone worth knowing. - P’.

Excitement coursed through him as Lucifer went back into his room and carefully ripped through the wrapping. It was a simple painting that couldn’t be bigger than two by three feet, but he was more drawn to the flower that was depicted on the canvas. A pair of hands delicately held a singular white orchid, the dark colors of the background and the skin making the brightness of the flower all the more radiant.

He blinked in amazement at the painting, surprised that she was able to make something so pretty so quickly, though he could vaguely remember her going on about how some paints dry faster than others. With a large grin he scanned the walls, deciding that right next to his desk would be a perfect place to hand the art since he would be able to turn and see it often.

Heat creeped onto his face as he thought this, bringing a hand to cover his face as he groaned.

These feelings… They were going to be a problem, weren’t they?

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel oc #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer x oc #hazbin lucifer #their ship name is 'broken hallelujah'#these two idiots #so stinky #/affectionate

5 notes · View notes