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applesontheground · 2 years ago

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it ain’t if you fall, but how you rise 🍎

this is a bit of a vent piece because the mid-semester trenches are really testing your girl rn. perfect time to write for someone new in between getting my ass beat by uni assignments and a stacked work schedule. disclaimer: this is essentially me giving myself assurance through a final girl who means a lot to me (partially because we share a career aspiration/college major, and partially because i just think she’s stellar/that she’d say i’m cool when i’m feeling inadequate as an amateur journalist). hope you guys are hanging in there, as well. ❤

SFW | Word Count: 1,185 | Taylor Gentry x * GN!Reader * this can be taken as platonic, but it could honestly be interpreted as a little crush just as easily lol

contains light angst, comfort, very hard projection via journalist student!reader, brief mention of the reader wearing glasses

🎼: x

“How you holding up?” Your study buddy asked from the other side of the quiet, grey room, the only other audience being a row of dark computers that surrounded the two of you. She had probably caught sight of you just a moment ago, understanding the quiet motion of settling your arms over your head and staring at the single glowing monitor with a hopeless stare.

“Well, I’m holding up.” You answered almost in surprise with the last two words, making her stifle a laugh.

Taylor Gentry was a pal that you had made in your introductory multimedia course a few semesters ago, and although the friendship was strictly in the confines of a classroom or a field report that you two would take together here and there at the journalism program, she knew your plight better than most. Every Tuesday since the beginning of the year, you and her would sink your roots into this computer lab for the evening, working on the new week with new projects and being each other’s personal pitching room.

It was all a bit biased, though. You two picked apart each other’s work a little too frequently, and with a little too much enthusiasm – hence why you and her often stayed here well into the evening. You didn’t even want to know how late it had become; you just knew light had ceased glowing against the pale blinds you had pulled shut who knows how long ago.

“God, I hope I can get this in on time. Professor chewed me out for not meeting the deadline last week…” You murmured, eyes darting to the to-do list on the lined paper sitting by the keyboard as you hesitantly checked the next task off, letting it fall to the wayside in preference of what needed to happen next in your plan as your hand – pen still between your index and middle fingers – clicked on a tab you had to reread.

“You can,” Taylor hummed idly, “And you will.”

At first, you brushed the comment off. Of course I will, I tell myself that every day, you thought at first, but then your fingers settled on your keyboard in a standstill as the sound of her voice echoed back from one wall of your head to the other, hitting you between the eyes as it sank to the depths of your realization, almost hitting you straight in the heart before tumbling to your gut.

“You can, and you will.” ... She really thinks that about you, you concurred as she had been writing in her notebook while speaking, not even taking a moment to ponder that belief. Another brilliant headline was probably forming under her hand, something that would make every student envy her syntax and unsuspecting students stop to read the university paper for once because she knew exactly what to say. That type of mind thought that – no hesitation under her watchful scrutiny that she approached the world with – and she thought that about you.

Like a stack of bricks pushing down on the fraying fiber that formed your very nerves, you felt your lip start to shake as it snapped; the pressure of both your deadline and Taylor’s comment did you in and it came fast, almost made your head spin as you were unable to even think about your story any more. Despite that, you were silent otherwise, and even tried to find your autopilot button as you continued to type. Filler words dotted the empty page as your vision trembled, then completely blurred from tears.

The…development of the local…events in the area

Finally, a sniff made you lift your glasses to your forehead and put your hands over your face in a moment of embarrassment. It had to fall apart just for a second. You let yourself have a long, silent pause as you breathed deep, tried to let there be a caving in from an idle fear of not walking away from this computer without a sufficient article.

“[Y/N], I mean that.” Taylor had watched the falter, the computer chair rolling across the floor to hover behind you somewhere between your eyes fixing on the computer screen and then in your hands. A wool-clad palm settled on the back of your shoulder, nimble fingers moving a little awkwardly as she took in that you were actually showing a crack through the standard desire to prevail, to move forward through the occasional missed mark.

You replied quickly, no conviction in your voice, “I know you do, I…I can do this, always have. It’s fine.” You fumbled to pull yourself back to earth, sleeves desperately running over your eyes and still trying to take in enough air to stop flustering yourself. Taylor was quiet, staring with a thoughtful purse of her lips.

“You’re too hard on yourself, [Y/N].” She mused, finally making you feel safe enough to look at her in an unkept glory. The muscles in your knuckles tensed as her fingers moved down, a sudden but ginger clasp around the top of your hand that made you unable to look anywhere but in her concerned expression as she went on, “I think this is a great angle you’re taking, and even though it’s hard to keep up, that’s how it gets sometimes. We can only hope for people to email us back, return our calls…” She shook her head, and sighed, “But sometimes, that doesn’t happen. The story goes on, though. It has to.”

You nodded in mute agreement. She then chimed with a concurring tilt of her head, thinking on her own sentence as it came together, “But that’s when we have to go looking for ourselves if the so-called sources don’t want to tell us. I know you’re capable of that.”

“Okay, now you’re just buttering me up.” You discounted, but once again it felt off with how disheveled your voice had remained. She sighed, and insisted, “I’m serious, you always have something interesting to say, and god, you love it. That shines through more than anything else,” You gave her an uncertain glance, and she smiled slightly, “And I’ll say that until you believe me.”

Even though your eyes broke away from hers, falling to your lap with another quiet hum, she pat the top of your hand and abruptly stood up. “I think that one coffee shop by the STEM building’s still open.” She pointed towards the door, “Let’s take twenty minutes, then come back and finish this once and for all. Sound good?”

You looked at the floor, feeling an ache set in your posture as you slowly straightened your back. Realizing you had been sitting for well over three hours, you groaned, “Sure, that sounds good.” The funny crack in your voice made her snicker, and she held her hand down to you. You took it, and exaggerated another awful noise as you came to stand toe to toe with her.

“Wow. We are not that old, [Y/N].” Taylor scoffed, and you huffed as you walked out with her, “Well, this is the oldest I’ve ever fucking felt, Tay.”

#taylor gentry x reader #final girl x reader #✏️#🍎#10/10 would recommend doing this when you feel utterly sad it helped a bit and got me back on track ;;

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ragingbookdragon · 4 years ago

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I'm Only A Crack In This Castle Of Glass (Hardly Anything Else I Need To Be) PT. 5

Batfamily x Batsis Story!

Word Count: 2.5K Warnings: Explicit Language, ALL THE ANGST. AND MORE TO COME! Tags!: @itsnottilly @cloudyskylines @starflyer-104 @iwillstaywiththemforever @justine-en @weirdgirlfromtx @notsostraightweeb @candlestudy @edlothia-baby @soul-end @willieoo @willowoo @peterxwade24 @the-atlantic-french-fry @bad-bouquet-of-emotions @vvipgot7be @pure-princess-97 @atomicsoulhumanspy

Author's Note: I have nothing to say for any of the emotions y'all are about to get from this. Enjoy!-Thorne

She wasn’t sure what she expected when she sat down, but the stretching silence growing between her and her estranged family wasn’t it. She tried to look anywhere but them, not because she was ashamed—far from it. But it was more than awkward sitting across from three brothers and a father she’d not spoken to in three years, let alone tell them she was even alive.

Her eyes found Wally’s as he sat down beside her eldest brother and if looks could’ve killed, he’d been dead and buried.

“Glare at me all you want, but I’m not going to apologize,” he shrugged.

Scowling, she turned her attention to the skyline. “Fuck you,” she spat, crossing her arms.

“At least talk to them, (Y/N).”

“And why should I, Wally?” she questioned, glaring at him. “I don’t have anything to say. If I did, I wouldn’t be here in Central.”

“You’re not leaving until you talk to them,” he finalized with a firm look and she growled low in her throat and resigned herself to her fate.

Her eyes darted to her father’s and she couldn’t for the life of her decipher what was in them. “I’ll talk for an hour,” she told him. “I’m not talking about what I’ve been doing in Central City, so don’t ask. I’m not talking about the life I’ve been living, so don’t ask. You’re only allowed to ask me about my departure and that’s it. But after one hour is up, I’m leaving.”

“Who said you get to leave,” Wally questioned, and she shot him the darkest glower she could muster.

“So help me God, Wally West you’ll either take me home or you’ll fix that fucking elevator and I’ll walk myself home. Because if you don’t, I’ll tell the world who every vigilante is at this table.”

For once she managed to stump him because his eyes went wide—so did her family’s but she didn’t care—and he finally nodded.

“Alright. One hour.”

Seemingly satisfied with his answer, she turned back to her family, more specifically her father. “Why are you here? What do you want from me?”

“Maybe for you to come home, (Y/N),” Jason answered, and she glanced to him.

“Not a chance. Next?”

“(Y/N), you don’t have to be hostile. We’re not going to force you here,” Dick said, and she looked at him now, eyes narrowing.

“The manipulation tactic isn’t going to work on me, Dick. I’m not here for to be tricked into coming back. I’m never coming back.” She cocked her leg over the side of the table and reclined, biting out, “Give me your anger. I’d prefer that instead of whatever this pitiful bullshit you’ve got going on.”

In the eighteen years they’d known their sister they’d never heard her say such a callous thing, but her words had practically slapped Dick across the face because hurt etched onto his expression, then immediately turned into anger.

“You want my anger? Fine.” He stood and pointed at her. “What the hell is wrong with you! Why would just up and disappear like you did! Do you have any idea how scared we were for you! How distraught!”

(Y/N) blinked at him. “Knowing how you like to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders because you can’t help but be a hero? Probably a lot.” She made a dramatic show of looking at her watch. “You’ve got forty minutes. Keep it up.”

Her eyes shifted to Bruce’s. “Did you let them read the letter? Or did you just throw it away after you read it?”

Dick, Jason, and Tim all turned to Bruce at that.

“Letter?” Tim repeated. “What letter?”

(Y/N)’s mouth made an ‘o’ shape and then she smiled knowingly. “Oh, you never showed them the letter, did you?” She looked to her brothers. “I wrote dad a letter the night I left to explain why I was leaving. It’s sugarcoated bullshit but it is the truth.”

Dick’s face contorted in anger. “(Y/N) left a reason behind and you didn’t tell us about it? Three years and not a single word?”

Bruce merely stared at her as he pulled the letter out of his coat pocket. “I was going to burn it when I found her again. Talk to her before anyone else could.”

Jason snatched the letter from his hands. It had faded a bit, softened around the hard edges, like someone had opened it and read it every day for three years.

His eyes scanned the paper, and he met her gaze, voice chock-full of hurt and she had to fight tooth and nail to keep herself from externally reacting. “You left because you thought we didn’t care about you?”

Dick reached over and took the letter. With furrowed brows and a frown, he started to read aloud, and Bruce gazed at (Y/N) as the memory came back to him.

***

Mornings at the manor were unusually quiet in comparison with the evenings. Everyone was typically too tired to argue so it accounted for a peaceful breakfast of soft words and chewing. Everyone had an assigned seat and every child had learned early on not to take the seat that belonged to another brother or their sister because there would be a fight about it.

Dick and Jason sat next to each other and (Y/N) took the seat at the end of that side; Tim and Damian took the other side—oldest to youngest, just the neat and even way Bruce liked it.

It was rare for any of the boys to be awake before him or Alfred and (Y/N) was usually the first kid to the table, the boys wandering in just minutes after her. Oddly enough, that morning she hadn’t come down for breakfast—which she always came to.

Bruce looked at Alfred. “Is (Y/N) coming down?”

Alfred hummed and gently maneuvered Tim’s arm to the side to he could set down the plate. “When I went to her door, it was locked, and I received no conversation from inside.”

Jason snorted and sipped his coffee. “Probably had a long night with her friends and is still out. I know I would be.”

“How would you know?” Tim interrupted. “You died before you got to the eleventh grade.”

“You’re one to talk, dropout,” Dick countered, and Damian sighed.

“Richard, you dropped out of college. The only son of Batman who has actually completed an entire bout of schooling is me.”

The three boys turned on him with scowls and retorted, “No one asked you, pipsqueak.” Damian glared back at them.

Bruce rolled his eyes, using the side of his fork to cut into his omelet. “Let’s try not to start a free-for-all here in the breakfast room, please.” He glanced at Alfred. “She’s probably tired from all the ceremonies. Let her sleep.”

Alfred nodded. “Of course, Master Bruce. She should be well rested this evening.”

But when the evening came, Alfred still hadn’t been able to get (Y/N) to unlock her bedroom nor speak to him. He certainly wasn’t worried, but it was off for her to be so reclusive. When Bruce and the boys came back from patrol, he mentioned it to him.

“Miss (Y/N) hasn’t come out from her bedroom, Master Bruce. Nor has she said a single word all day.”

Bruce’s brows furrowed and he tugged the cowl off, rising from the seat at the Batcomputer. “I’ll go check on her,” he replied. “You deal with…” his steel eyes drifted to Dick who had Tim in a headlock and Jason who was giving Damian a noogie. “Them,” he finalized, leaving the poor butler behind.

He knocked on the door to her room and pressed his ear to it. “(Y/N)? You haven’t come out all day. Is everything alright?”

Nothing. Not even a breath.

“(Y/N), are you in there?” he asked again and when he didn’t receive a confirmation, he raised his arm, running his fingers along the doorframe until he touched a small metal piece. He pulled it down and stuck it in the door, wiggling the knob for a second before it clicked, and he opened the door.

“Sweetheart, we’ve been trying to—” Bruce went silent when he saw the kempt room. Bed neatly made, everything organized and put away. Even her clothes hamper was empty.

He blinked and walked into the room, quickly heading to the bathroom to check for her there. It was empty as well, and just as clean, leaving him stunned as he exited the bath.

Wandering over to her desk, he saw an elegant envelope sitting on top of her laptop, his name written in beautiful penmanship. He picked it up and unfolded it, pulling out the multi-page letter. He drew his eyes along the golden lines, reading her words.

Dad,

I don’t really know how to start this letter. Truth be told I’ve written at least six before this one, and even then, I’m not entirely happy with it. But if you’re reading this, I’m not here anymore. I haven’t hurt myself in anyway, you don’t need to worry about Vicki Vale or Jack Ryder reporting the discovery of my body. I mean it in a literal sense—I’m not in Gotham anymore. Neither am I ever coming back.

Don’t think this is your fault. You’re a good father, the best I could’ve been given, and my brothers are good siblings. But the truth is that I’m not fit for this family of heroes. And I never have been. My best when trying to be what all of you are, was never good enough and I’ve spent eighteen years staring at your backs, waiting for you all to realize that I’m still here, that I still matter even if I’m not like you. And I don’t want to feel like a stranger in my own home any longer.

I don’t want you to look for me. I know you will, but I wish you wouldn’t. This isn’t some spur of the moment thing I decided to do the night after graduation. If you look at my bank records, I’ve been withdrawing cash from my savings since freshman year—this is four years of planning, so please understand that I’m doing this because I don’t want to be found—ever.

I’ll leave the story for the media up for you, though I doubt that they’ll care long enough to make a deal of it. It’ll pass like winter does spring and they’ll move on to the next bigger story.

Thank you for everything dad, and good luck with Gotham—keep it safe like you always have. And I hope that one day when you think of me, you won’t feel disappointment. I’ve only ever tried to be something that when you looked down on me, you’d only be proud, and I hope one day I’ll achieve what I always dreamed about. Eighteen is young to be on your own and I’m scared. But I’ll be okay—I always have been.

So do me a favor and don’t spend too much time over this. There are plenty more younger kids that need a parent’s hand on their backs to steady them like you once did for me. Find one and fill my spot. Let them shine brighter than I ever could. Let them be the one worthy to be a Wayne—I know I never was.

-(Y/N)

Bruce barely had time to grasp the back of her chair to keep himself from falling to his knees in shock. The letter was clenched in his hand and his lungs wouldn’t take in air like he wanted them to, his heart aching with each palpitation. He looked around the room to her dresser drawers, willing the strength into his legs to moved over to it. He opened every drawer and to his astonishment, they were empty. Hurrying to the bathroom, he noticed the drawers in there were empty as well. She was really gone. And he had no idea what to do.

***

Tears were in Dick’s eyes when he finished the letter and he looked up at her. “How could you ever think we didn’t care about you, (Y/N)?”

She didn’t want to have this conversation. She didn’t want to sit there and explain every time she asked her brothers if they wanted to do something with her and they conveniently had something else to do. Didn’t want to explain every school and extracurricular performance that went unattended and left a little girl standing in front of a crowd barely managing to stave off the tears as she bowed and thanked them for coming. She didn’t want to remember all the memories that chipped away at her heart with every disappointment that occurred. All she wanted to do was leave.

(Y/N) had earlier returned to her original position, hands in her lap and she clenched her fists until her nails bit into the skin of her palms, eyes directed anywhere but Dick’s.

“I think it’s time we call this little reunion done,” she said, standing to her feet. “We’re not going to get anywhere.”

“Not if you run again,” Jason muttered, unconsciously wiping a tear from his eye.

She pointed at him, hissing, “I didn’t run the first time, Jason. I left. On my own accord.”

“You ran instead of coming to us, (Y/N),” Tim said, and she threw her hands above her head in disbelief.

“What the fuck did you want me to do! Wander down into the cave and beg at your feet for someone to pay attention to me! To at least pretend like I was a sister! I did! Every day!”

(Y/N) picked up her purse and yanked it up her arm. “Cassandra seems to be fitting in better than I did. So go and dote on her as the younger sibling. I’m not interested in the position anymore.”

“It’s not a competition,” Dick explained. “We love you just as much as we love Cass.”

She paused and gazed at him, voice laced with disappointment as she disagreed, “Then you should make sure she’s content in the manor, because if you love her with any semblance of how you loved me? It’s not at all.”

Her eyes shifted to Wally’s. “Fix the elevator. Now.”

He stayed seated for a moment, the two of them staring each other down, then he nodded wordlessly and moved to the elevator, starting it again. Her family stayed seated, and she gave them one final look before she followed Wally, silently waiting for the doors to open.

When they did, she stepped inside and turned around, hitting the button. Just before the doors closed, Wally stopped them and murmured, “You’re making a mistake.”

“My worst mistake was becoming friends with you.” (Y/N) blinked at him, then reached up and shoved his hand away from the door and as it closed, she remarked coldly, “And you can go to hell for all I care.”

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novaiya · 4 years ago

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Love below 0°C - Arthur x Reader

Summary: You’ve just escaped from Blackwater, barely ducking from bullets that were shot your way. Your trusted horse, however, wasn’t so lucky. Stuck in Colter with no stables to buy a horse from, Arthur decides to go out and get you one, but not just any one, a White Arabian. Is the horse the only thing he's bringing back?

Words: 2.8k

Tags: Established Relationship, FLUFF,

A/N: I think the last line in this piece is the best line I’ve ever wrote simply because oh the image it evokes :(

Based on this request: Could you please do a fic set during the prologue of rdr2 in Colter, that Arthur tries to tame the white Arabian for the reader because their horse died instead of Boedecia, it takes hours to do it and when he brings it back to camp he starts sneezing and catches a cold so the reader thanks him by taking care of him :D

If you prefer to read on AO3, click here.

The wind was brutal, hitting your body with such force that you were wondering how the horses were able to keep going. If it wasn’t for you holding onto Arthur, you were sure that the wind would’ve taken you away.

Having escaped from Blackwater, the entire gang have found themselves up in the mountains, caught in a snowstorm. Although the weather was cruel and you could already feel your limbs go numb, it beat being captured by the Pinkertons and the lawmen that would surely kill you more painful than the weather would.

As everybody rode on, thinking about the next move or the weather, you were thinking about your horse. From the East to the West and back to the East, he was with you through it all. A gift from Arthur, he was the first, and only, horse you’ve had since joining the Van Der Linde gang. He was loyal to you from the start, patient as you learned how to properly ride and take care of him, and he deserved more than to be killed by a stray bullet from a Blackwater lawman. Tears pricked your eyes as you remembered the image of him laying on the ground, taking his last breath right before Arthur ran up and scooped you away, putting you on his horse and riding away from the damned town.

Your head was laying on Arthur’s back as he rode through the snow, following the light of Dutch’s lantern. You were starting to doze off, Arthur’s back, warm and soft, being as good as any pillow. The voices of Dutch and the rest of the gang were fading into the foreground as you fell asleep, the sound of wind howling accompanying you into the dream world.

When you woke up the next morning, you found yourself in a bed, with a blanket over you and Arthur snuggled behind you. Despite the snow outside making the windows of the cabin tremble, you were as warm and cozy as you could be. You turned around in Arthur’s hold, facing him; he was so cute when he slept, with his mouth slightly open. His nose and cheeks were a bit red, indicating that he was probably out in the cold last night. You had to make sure to keep him warm and safe while you were in this weather, you thought, otherwise he was bound to catch a cold. You knew how reckless he could get, forgetting to take care of himself and putting others first. It was one of the best and at the same time worst traits of his.

As if he felt you watching him, he gradually opened his eyes.

“Mornin’,” he said.

“Morning,” you returned. “Were you out last night?” you said, running a hand through his hair and down to his reddened cheek.

“I was. Me, Micah and Dutch went to check out a homestead Micah found. The O'Driscolls got there first. Found a woman there, brought her back.”

“What about the homestead? Can we go back and stay there?”

“Unfortunately, Micah got to it first, burned the whole thing to the ground.”

“Jesus…” you drew, shaking your head.

The two of you were silent for a moment before Arthur spoke again.

“How are you feeling?” he said, eyeing you with a bit of worry. The two of you didn’t have time to discuss the situation till now.

“I’m okay,” you said, shuffling a bit and rising up so you could sit against the headboard. “Just sad about Happy. He didn’t deserve to go out like that.”

“I’m sorry,” Arthur said, following you and sitting against the headboard as well. He smiled as he remembered the day when he gifted you your horse. Since joining the gang, you would either ride one of the unused horses kept by the hitching post, or ride on the back of Boadicea with Arthur. Despite never being without a ride, you felt that you were ready to have one you could properly call your own, and shared that with Arthur. Being the gentleman he was, Arthur quickly took you to the nearest stable and bought you your new horse (an act for which he got a kiss and which started your relationship) “I remember when the two of you first met, you didn’t even have to break him in. He practically wanted you to mount him,” he said with a laugh.

You smiled and chuckled a bit, remembering how quickly you formed a bond with your horse. That smile quickly faded as you realized you were never going to see Happy again. You shook your head, trying to push away the thoughts.

The two of you got ready before going out of your room and into a dining room-kitchen area of the little cabin you stayed in. Molly was standing by the counter, looking out of the window and sipping on a coffee. Hosea was sitting in a chair by the fireplace, warming up his hands. You went to the counter to make a cup of coffee for yourself and Arthur.

“I know it might be too soon,” Arthur said, coming up to you and taking the coffee you offered. “But we need to get you a new horse.”

His words stung you a bit; you felt bad for replacing Happy so soon, but you knew that you had to. If you had no horse, you couldn’t be a productive member of the gang.

“I know,” you said, looking down into your cup of coffee. “But how are we supposed to do that? We can’t just go out to buy one now, it might be too dangerous.”

“I’ve heard stories of an Arabian horse roaming in the mountains not far from here.” Hosea’s voice made both of you look at him.

Arthur turned around to face him. “Do you know where exactly?”

“Well, no one is sure for certain, and they are just that, stories, but people said they’ve seen it around Lake Isabella.”

__________________________

“Just promise me you’ll be careful,” you said, standing next to Arthur’s horse as he mounted it, getting ready to make the trip to Lake Isabella.

“You know me darlin’,” Arthur said with a smile. “I’m always careful.”

You chuckled, slapping his leg playfully.

He bent down slightly, and you stood on your tiptoes, meeting him halfway and kissing him. His lips were cold, and so were yours, but neither of you minded. When you broke apart, he gave you a smile before spurring Boadicea and disappearing into the snowy plain.

You stood in the snow for a few more minutes, looking out into the distance where Arthur rode away to. You hoped he would be careful and take care of himself like he promised. He had a tendency of neglecting himself, being careless and letting himself get hurt or sick. On more than one occasion you had to make sure he wore warm clothes when you were in colder climates, or wore his hat when the sun was especially brutal. Despite being a one of the leaders of the Van Der Linde gang, stepping in for Dutch or Hosea when he had to, he could be so silly when it came to trivial things. You chuckled to yourself. Good thing he had you, you thought, a thought that Arthur often had himself.

__________________________

The snowstorm was getting more brutal the further he went into the mountains. At some points, he couldn’t even see in front of him, everything hidden by the white of the snow. From time to time, the storm would get so brutal, Boedecia could barely move through it. Finally, after a few hours he could see the frozen Lake Isabella. Everything was covered in white; the trees, the rocks, the lake itself. All the animals that were able to withstand the harsh weather and roamed around too wore coats of white, blending in with the surroundings. In this scenery, Arthur stood out like a sore thumb with his dark blue coat and his black hat.

He hitched Boedecia to one of the trees that lined the shore of the lake before venturing out, trying to get a feel for the surrounding area.

He should get a fire started, he thought, warm himself up before getting to work. That’s what you would’ve done, at least, if you were here. He promised you that he would take care of himself. He felt bad for not doing that, but he hoped he would be in and out within an hour, so forth he went.

It was hours before he finally found her, having missed her white coat in the equally white snow a countless times. Finding her, however, wasn’t even the hardest part, breaking her in, that was. She bucked him off for what he felt like a dozen times. He could barely feel his face in the end, having been thrown off face first in the snow far too many times. Finally, as if the horse was just as tired of bucking off Arthur as Arthur was tired of being bucked off, she gave in, relaxing under him.

Despite being cold, tired and hungry, he forwent setting up camp to rest, already planning the route back to Colter. Being the completionism that he was, he didn’t feel that his mission was over until you had the horse’s reins in your hand.

“Let’s get you to your new owner,” he said, patting the mare’s platinum mane.

He whistled for Boedecia, and when she came, the three of them started their journey back to Colter. The snow storm still blew, but it was not as rough as it was before, and Arthur could see the path in front of him. He noticed how serene and quiet the area was, and if it wasn’t for his occasional sneezes cutting through the silence, there would be nothing heard. When his nose started to run, he cursed himself, using the cuff of his coat to wipe at it.

__________________________

You were standing by the window, sipping on your coffee and looking outside when you saw Arthur make his way up the path on a horse that was as white as a fresh winter snow. “Arthur!” you exclaimed and ran outside.

“Got a present for ya,” he said as he dismounted the horse.

As you looked over your new ride, taking notice of her beautiful, platinum hair and her equally platinum body, you couldn’t help but be distracted by the sneezes and sniffles that came from Arthur. Oh, Arthur! Of course he didn’t listen to you, you thought, probably didn’t set up a fire and most likely spent too much time in the snow. His selfless act, as much as it meant to you, came at a cost that you would now have to help him pay.

“Oh, Arthur,” you said after he sneezed again.

“I’m alright,” he said like he always did, waving away with his hand.

“C’mon,” you said, taking Arthur’s hand in yours and leading him into the house and your room. “Let’s get you warm.”

“Darlin’, I told you, I’m all right.”

He would not have been Arthur Morgan if he didn’t try to reject your help at least once. He hated being a burden to you or to anyone, especially when he was at fault. You, however, after being in a relationship with him for the past few years, learned to not pay attention to his rejections, simply continuing on with what you were doing. With your help, after a few minutes, he was down to his union suit, his clothes, heavy and wet, laying in the corner of the room to be hanged up to dry later. You fished out a fresh set of clothes from your unpacked bags, a pair of pants, a shirt and a warm jacket made of sheepskin, and gave it to him before leaving the room to get a hot cup of coffee and a meal for Arthur.

The room was quiet while you were outside, and Arthur had a moment to let his thoughts travel freely in his mind. He looked at his arms and his legs, clothed in fresh, dry clothes. He looked at the door where on the other side you, his love, were preparing food for him. The warmth that the clothes provided could not rival the warmth he felt in his heart through all your acts of love. He never imagined that someone could love him as much as you did. Not only that, he didn’t think he deserved it, after everything he has done in his life. The words were no match for what he felt for you as you opened the door, balancing a cup of coffee and a bowl of stew as you held the doorknob, your cheeks red from the cold, your eyes full of love as you looked at him.

__________________________

“You silly, silly man,” you said as you sat on a chair next to the bed, looking over Arthur. It has been a few days since Arthur brought back the white Arabian and with her, the cold he caught. He was sneezing, coughing, blowing his nose, the whole nine yards, yet despite all that, he still wanted to get back on his horse and to work. You had to all but tie him to the bed to keep him from going out.

“I need to go out with Dutch,” he would say between sneezes, trying to get up and go.

“They'll have to manage without you,” you would return, pushing him back on the bed and covering him with blankets. “I’m not gonna let you get any more sicker.”

The next few days were mostly spent in the confines of the four walls of your room, with you taking care of Arthur. Surprising yourself, he didn’t fight too much, giving in almost right away and letting you nurse him to health. He could get used to it, he thought, as you kept taking care of him, tucking him under blankets, bringing hot bowls of stew. On a couple of occasions, he caught himself imagining that he wasn’t in some broken down cabin in Colter, hiding from Pinkertons and lawmen, but in his own house, on his own land. The image warmed him up more than any bowl of stew or cup of coffee could.

As you were laying in the bed with Arthur, you could hear the snow storm playing outside, threatening to break the windows and invade the room. Although the walls were cold, with Arthur’s body and a blanket over the two of you, you were warm. By now, Arthur has almost completely recovered, the only trace of the sickness being a sneeze here and there, but it too was almost completely gone.

“You know,” Arthur started, making you look up at him from where your head was on his chest. “It’s in moments like these, when I can see us bein’ somewhere else. Just the two of us.”

He imagined the two of you on your own ranch or a farm. No bounties to hunt, no debts to collect. He could see himself as a rancher, not carrying his gun belt every waking hour, a dog by his side. He imagined you, in a light, flow-y dress, taking care of the house, bringing love and light to it just as you did to every tent the two of you have shared. Maybe the cold has made his mind delirious, but he could even see the two of you grow old together, sitting on a rocking chair on the porch of your house, your hair gray, your face littered with wrinkles, each one telling a story.

“Me too,” you said, imagining a similar scenery in your mind. The mess that had just gone down in Blackwater had shaken your trust in Dutch just as it had for Arthur. Something has changed, and despite continuing following Dutch, the two of you realized you could only rely on one another. It’s a realization, so crucial, which would come to play strongly in the next few months, a lifeline that would lead you to your happy ever after in the end, with you, in a flow-y dress on the porch of your ranch, watching as Arthur tended to the herd, no gun on his hip, only sweat on his forehead from an honest day of work.

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x y/n #arthur morgan #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan headcanon #rdr2 #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 x reader #arthur morgan fanfics #arthur morgan fanfiction #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr2 fanfics #red dead redemption 2 fanfiction #rdr2 imagines #rdr2 headcanons

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wlw-peachylsbn · 4 years ago

Text

the only heaven i'll be sent to (is when I'm alone with you) (bellatrix lestrange x reader)

A/N: Okie dokie, girls and gays! So! This is going to be a sub!Bella fic. Now I know what you all might be thinking, Bella is a dom, but you know what? It's not my fault my brain is so big and sexy, and I'm on a whole new galaxy. Thanks to @bellatrixscurls for inspiring me!!!

We have some praise and degradation, a bit of a choking kink, pet play, a big ass Mommy kink, and like. A shoe kink?

Your quill jumps from one line to the next, not stopping even when your love walks into the room. You're only half done with this essay, and you still need to finish one more after this. Thanks to Bellatrix's interference, you slacked off during the weekend, preferring to share her bed and lounge about. Though, who could blame you?

So deep in thought, you don’t notice Bellatrix as she moves closer to you, heaving a deep sigh.

"Did you need something, Bella?" You tap your quill, still thinking about the right way to form this one sentence.

"Yes, I actually did.” She shrugs, taking a step closer so there's only a sliver of space between you. It's an odd position, really, and you have to crane your head back to gaze at her.

"Yes?" You reach up to tangle your feelings in her curls. When you tug lightly, a shiver runs through her body.

Oh. You pause, looking Bellatrix over shrewdly. Your weekend wasn't just relaxing; you also discovered some wonderful, nasty details about your lover. Specifically, some certain kinks she had.

“Oh, did you want Mommy, sweetheart?” you coo, tugging on her curls again.

Another shiver runs through Bellatrix’s body as she kneels before you, eyes big and soft. You can already tell that she's slipping into her subspace, an experience you both have discussed thoroughly. You haven't acted on it quite yet though, but today might be the perfect time to rectify that.

“That’s right, go get on your knees, darling.” Your hand comes reassuringly down on Bellatrix’s shoulder, pressing her to kneel completely.

God. Bellatrix is absolutely beautiful like this, with her hair wild and a curl in her face, her eyes wide with starry-eyed longing, like she thinks you hold her world up. Of course, you would be lying if you said it didn't arouse you to see Bellatrix on her knees for you, only for you. She's such a dominant, tough personality, which leads people to assume she would be in charge in the bedroom. Sometimes she is, but she also confessed that playing with submission would be incredibly arousing for her. You're the only one she trusts with her secrets, which infuses the scene with more tenderness than you expect.

“Am I doing okay, Mommy?” A whisper, light as air, settles in between the two of you.

You know how deeply Bellatrix needs reassurance. Mainly praise. She didn’t say such a thing in as many words, but you know her. A kind word or a light touch makes her clingy, but praise, full, unrestrained, lengthy praise will make her … well. You don’t know yet, but you can’t wait to find out soon.

“You’re doing amazing, sweetheart, being such a good girl. Just sit there for Mommy, alright? I want you to relax a bit.”

“But, Mommy, I feel fine, I don’t want to—”

“Quiet. Now. Do not question me.” Steel enters your tone just as quickly as Bellatrix whines. She sticks out her bottom lip, scowling in a rather cute manner, you admit. But you wipe away any trace of amusement from your face. “If you act like a brat, you can go back to your room and pout there instead.”

Another scowl, this one deeper, crosses her face, but she grudgingly nods and lowers her eyes. You resume looking at your paper, pretending to work, but your mind races, returning to your little brat at your feet. Should you keep her in suspense for a while longer? Or really draw it out until she pleads?

“Mommy?”

Well, that didn’t take too long at all.

“Yes?” You keep your tone purposefully neutral.

“Are you mad?”

“No, just disappointed.”

Bellatrix pouts. Again. “I hate when you say that.”

“I know, darling, but if you were good, I wouldn’t have to say it so much.”

“ ‘m sorry.”

“What was that?” You raise your eyebrow, not ready to drop the matter yet.

“I’m sorry, Mommy. I just …” Bellatrix has never been one to conceal her feelings. You can see the hesitance warring with want, clear as day, as she ducks her head, avoiding your searching gaze. “I …”

“What is it, honey? You know you can tell me anything.” You lightly grab her chin with your hand, tugging until she’s facing you. “You know I would never judge you.”

“Can you be really Mommy? And make me feel like your little girl again?” Heat blooms in her pale cheeks, and when she hides her face again, you let her. “I just wanna … be good for you. Please?”

The tenderness from earlier returns, and you coo, “Oh, I see now. You want me to tell you what to do? Do you crave my firm hand? My harsh touch? Come now, good girls use their words.”

“I want you to be nice, Mommy. To make me feel really good. But I want you to be mean, too.” To anyone else, Bellatrix’s words would sound like a convoluted mess. And they are, to some extent. But you can always soothe her mind and untangle her web of feelings.

“I see now, darling. Of course, I’ll do that. You just be my good girl and let me take care of everything, alright?”

“Yes, please, thank you, Mommy.” She looks up finally, and you can see the self-awareness leaving her body. There’s no more shame, just that adoring look you aim to see. It’s just you and her. Mommy and baby girl.

“That’s right. You just want to be my perfect little slut, don’t you?”

You watch carefully as Bellatrix gasps, eyes slipping shut as she leans forward. “Yes, Mommy, thank you, Mommy.”

“That’s right, you just sit still and be a good little toy for me.” You hum almost absent-mindedly, reaching to grasp her chin again, turning it this way and that. You appraise her, eyes lingering on her pale throat. Even her neck is beautiful, all exposed skin and deep hollows. “Would you like a collar, darling?” You slowly move your hand as you talk, effectively choking her, though you don’t apply much pressure.

“Oh, Merlin, please, Mommy? Yes, yes,” Bellatrix says, eyes pleading. “I’ll be good.”

“Would you? You want to be my little pet so badly, hmm? I think I’ll arrange for a nice thick collar, a pretty one, too. A dark red, since I know you love that colour so much. What do you think, pet?”

Bellatrix downright whines. She scoots as close as she can, practically sitting on top of your feet. “Please, I want to be your pet, and I want your collar too!”

“Yes, a collar sounds very nice,” you muse. Then you tighten your grip around Bellatrix’s throat a moment later. Her eyes slip shut, her hands reaching to steady herself on your leg. “You’re always my pretty whore that I can use, yes?”

“Always, but can you please touch me now, Mommy? I need you.” She tries a pout again, and although you want to kiss it anyway, you don’t budge.

“I thought you were my toy, though? I don’t recall you having the control here. So be a good little girl and be quiet.”

“But I’m so wet for you, Mommy. I can’t wait any longer.”

You sigh and click your tongue. “Don’t test me again. You’re my pet, remember?”

“Always.”

“But since you want to come so bad …” You cock your head to the side, a smirk forming on your lips.

“Yes, Mommy? I’ll do whatever you say.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.” Her dark eyes are lightened with trust. Complete, absolute trust as she waits patiently for your orders. You could make her do anything, you know that. But you only have one thing in mind.

You extend your shoe, laying it flat on the floor. The confusion that sparks in her eyes is downright adorable. Bellatrix cocks her head to the side, looking very much like a confused pet. “Needy little girls like you don’t deserve my fingers or mouth. If you want to come so bad, you can use my shoe and prove yourself.”

“Mommy?”

In a flash, you lean down, pressing your forehead to hers. Bellatrix’s hands come up around your shoulders, balling your shirt in her fists. She falls silent, taking a moment to breathe as you ask, “Baby? Is everything alright? If you want this to end, you know your safeword.”

“I’m okay, thank you, Mommy. Can we continue, please?”

“Of course, sweet girl.” You press a quick kiss to her forehead before pulling back, falling easily into your role again. “Or should I say, you little brat? I see you, trying to distract me.”

“I didn’t mean to, Mommy. How can I make it up to you?” Bellatrix peers up at you through her eyebrows innocently.

You say nothing, choosing to hold your shoe out again. For the second time today, Bellatrix blushes, a pink hue rising in her cheeks and chest. However, she doesn’t hesitate any longer and straddles your shoe.

It’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen. Honestly. She hitches her skirt up, tossing it behind her with a flick of her wrist, never losing her flair for the dramatics. Her hands caress your thighs, slowly coming down to grip the back of your legs. And finally, she lowers herself onto your shoe, an obscene moan escaping her mouth.

“How does it feel, Bella?”

“Fuck. So good. So good, Mommy,” Bellatrix rasps, head tilting towards the ceiling in blissed-out pleasure.

“Watch your mouth, pet.” You slap her cheek lightly, which draws another choked moan from Bellatrix.

“Sorry, Mommy.” Even as she apologies, her hips rock back and forth.

“Yeah? What are you apologizing for?” You make sure to keep your tone casual and airy, though you can’t help but start to tease her. You flex your shoe upward—but only but an inch or two. The cool material presses against her most sensitive area, drawing another whispered swear.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing, Mommy, I’m sorry, please, please—”

“Aww, is my baby too flustered to talk? Be a good girl and tell me what you need.”

“Mommy, please, I can’t, I need you so bad—” Bellatrix shifts again, and when she meets your gaze, you see tears brimming in her eyes.

You frown, wiping a stray one away. While you hate to see her cry under any circumstances, there’s a small sadistic part of you that roars with heat, wanting to see how long she can withstand your (pleasurable) torture. You stay quiet, thinking about the best move before you say, “Oh, darling. You need to cum that badly? Well, alright, honey. You can have a reward.”

“A reward?”

With great debilitation, you raise your shoe all the way, so it’s firmly pressed against her. You don’t hold back. She moans, her hips rocking even more. “Here’s your reward, baby. But I’m not going to do all the work. If you’re not crying and screaming like a little whore for me, then I won’t fuck you again for a while. So you better thank me, pretty girl, and get to work.”

“Oh, Merlin, thank you, thank you so much.”

“I prefer Mommy, baby, but you’re welcome either way.”

You watch with a smug smile as Bellatrix rubs herself all over your shoe. She moves slowly at first but moves quicker and quicker. Little pants and hitched breaths fill the room.

As she keeps chasing her high, you play with one of her curls, twisting it around your finger. “Soon, I’ll find a perfect collar for you, so everyone knows you belong to me. Then I’ll put a tail in your ass, too, baby girl, and have you kneel for me like a good kitten.”

“Oh, Mommy, yes, I’ll be your good kitten. Merlin, please, fuck me, fill me up.” By this point, Bellatrix is fully in her subspace, all tears and whiny begging that make you want to fuck her harder or wrap her up in your arms. But you go with the former and lean forward, your breath brushing her half-lidded eyelids.

“Hold on tight, sweetheart.”

You start moving your shoe again, flexing it, and dragging it back and forth. This time, you don’t give up on the pressure, instead aiming directly for her most sensitive spots. Your shoe grinds against her clit, causing her to moan.

“Look at you, my pretty darling. Making such a mess, rutting all over my shoe like a bitch in heat.”

“Fuck, Mommy, I’m going to come, please?”

“Go ahead, baby.”

Not a second later, she says, “Thank you, Mommy, coming for you, Mommy—”

Bellatrix’s orgasm is a wonder to witness, and you can only stare, like a galaxy is exploding in front of your very eyes. It comes as a trickle at first, minuscule shudders that shake her once, twice. But as she’s urged on by your whispered praises and hands tugging at her hair, her pleasure turns into a river carrying her away—until her orgasm crashes against her again and again, like a tidal wave threatening to drown her, promising to carry her out to sea forever, to never let her come back to shore.

“Mommy, Mommy!” Tears start to spill down her cheeks, but there’s no sadistic jolt this time. That side of you quietly leaves, replaced with the urge to care and protect.

“I know, baby girl, that’s it, you’re alright.” You keep a firm grasp on her shoulders as she shudders the last of her orgasm on her shoe, then tug her up. She crawls into your lap, tucking her head into the crook of your neck, sniffing. “Shh, darling, you did so well. You were so good, my perfect, good girl. I’m so fucking proud of you.”

“Was I really good?” Timid eyes peek at you from between strands of hair.

You smile, reaching to brush a curl away so you can better see her. “You were perfect.”

“Thank you, Mommy. I really liked everything we did.” Bellatrix sniffs again, pressing closer to you.

You chuckle. “I could tell, baby.” You run your hands up and down her spine, feeling the heat radiating off her. All the while, you keep cooing the sweetest praises and words of devotion into her ear.

“Mommy?”

“Yes, pretty girl?”

“Do you think we can try fisting next weekend?”

A true, genuine laugh escapes you. Oh, Bellatrix has the most unique, one-track mind. “Why don’t you rest up for a bit first, okay? We can talk about it later. Just relax now.”

“M’kay, Mommy, I will.”

Tomorrow, next weekend, the future all stretches before you, eager to be shaped by your hand. Anything you might want to do—and the ideas bloom in your mind—you can. But right now, you’re focused on the lovely, needy, flawed soul in your embrace. It’s you and her against the world.

You start to hum and resume rubbing Bellatrix’s back, allowing her to snuggle closer. Her eyes, though sleepily locked onto you, slowly flutter close. You smile indulgently, whispering, “Mommy’s right here, darling. Shh, go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

#bellatrix lestrange #bellatrix lestrange x reader #bellatrix x reader #bellatrix black #bellatrix black x reader #bellatrix imagine #not sfw #hogwarts

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mandoalorian · 4 years ago

Note

ohh hi!! I love your writing so much! I was thinking about that part where max is making wishes come true... how about reader touching him and telling him that her wish is... you know... ksksksks it would be a great plot for a smut 🥵

Lord of Desire [Maxwell Lord x Reader] SMUT *sex pollen*

Word count: 4.3k

Rating: 18+ only.

Warnings: SMUT; sex pollen (with that comes it being a dub-con too), overstimulation, cock warming, Dom! Reader, Sub! Max, oral (m! and f! receiving), p in v, slight yearning, reader has a crush on Max, happy ending.

Masterlist

You were one of his many assistants. One of his many assistants who were constantly at his beck and call, who would do anything and everything for him. And you'd be lying if you said you didn't have the biggest, fattest crush on Maxwell Lord. And you'd be lying again if it didn't bother you— the way he'd fuck a different assistant every day, without a care in the world. He did it meaninglessly, discarding whatever they wanted so he could get whatever he desired. Because it was always about him. He took charge, he was the boss.

You heard the other assistants gossip on their lunch breaks about their fantasies, sharing and gushing over their private moments between themselves and Maxwell. You preferred not to say anything about your own experiences, instead, you'd stand in the corner and sip on your tea, listening intently. You were someone who enjoyed your own company, who liked to keep yourself to yourself. You were certain the other assistants didn't even know your name.

"He went down on me." Raquel announced one morning, emptying a packet of sweetener into her latte. Your eyes widened slightly, although you kept them down, not wanting to illustrate any emotion to your colleagues. Deep down, you couldn't help but feel the pot of jealousy begin to stir up in the pit of your stomach. Why— why did all the other assistants have these wild stories about Max and all you could talk about was the way he'd bend you over his desk and fuck you with no remorse? You'd dreamt about it, you'd imagine the way his tongue might lick through your folds, his perfect nose nudging against the bud of your clit. They talked about it like they were competing with each other. Some were even delusional enough to think that Maxwell actually loved them back. You swallowed away your jealousy, held your head up high and for the first time— you said something.

"Liar." the single word dripped with envy and you hated the way it rolled off your tongue. The three assistants, including Raquel, snapped their heads up to stare at you. Raquel's glare was furious.

"Excuse me?" she asked, both her eyebrows raised incredulously.

"Mr Lord doesn't go down on anyone." you fired back. It was true. You knew him— you'd worked for him for the longest time. You knew he wouldn't do that. But if you were so certain that she was lying, why did you feel so jealous? If he was going to go down on anyone, it should've been you.

You didn't care to hear whatever Raquel had to say. You had to go see Max— pay him a little visit— find out the truth. You were finally going to confront him. You were fueled with jealousy and your rage was a blinding light as you stormed through Black Gold Cooperative, earning a few curious glances as your heels clicked against the marble floor. You wrapped both your hands around the two door handles that led into Maxwell's office, and pushed them open without even a knock. Maxwell, who was knee deep in paperwork, quickly looked up at you as you barged over to his desk, hand on hip. He swallowed nervously, dropping his gold embellished pen and offering you a polite smile.

"Not like you to just storm in here without knocking," Maxwell smirked, an eyebrow quirked at your sudden change in behaviour. "You've worked here long enough to know the rules," You scoffed, folding your arms across your chest. But before you could reply, Maxwell opened his mouth again. "But I'm glad you're here." he revealed, looking at you with those big, chocolate brown eyes. "Come, sit." he pointed at the empty chair that was opposite him.

You found yourself softening at the sentiment. He never, ever would say things like that. He'd never offer compliments or be genuine. Everything about his nature was cold and distant, but in those five words, his tone was sweet like honey. In a way, it brought you comfort. That completely through you off course. You sunk into the plush leather chair and began to nervously fumble with your fingers as he leaned over his messy desk, propping his elbows against the expensive oak wood. "I've discovered something amazing," he said breathlessly. "Something that can change the world."

You blinked. "What is it?" you hated the way your voice sounded small and timid. That's not the type of person you wanted to be in front of him, but it was always the type of person he made you out to be. With you, he would always exert his power— his dominance. When he fucked you, he'd whisper murmurs of praise in your ear. He wouldn't let you touch him, kiss him, he'd show no affection. He'd pin your hands together and take you from behind— and you'd let him with no question about it. Just for once, you wanted to explore a different side to Max, a side where you could be in control.

"Take my hands," he held his hands out and you cautiously looked down, swallowing the nervous lump in your throat. You took in the image of his thick, ring clad fingers and already felt your panties begin to dampen with arousal. Max curled his fingers, encouraging you to take his hands rather than just stare at them indefinitely. You caved, finally resting your palms flat in his. He interlocked his fingers in yours, his grip tight but firm. You could feel the coolness of his solid gold rings against your soft skin. "Make a wish."

You blinked again, this time completely dumbfounded. Make a wish? Had he finally lost it? His whole mantra was ‘if you want it you can have it’ — or something like that. But this whole wish thing? This was new.

"I don't-" you bit your lip, glancing from your hands to his face. His eyes were set heavy into you though, boring into your face and taking in every feature of yours that he admired so much. "I don't know what you mean." you sighed eventually, wanting to pull away from your boss. Maybe this was a bad idea after all.

"What do you wish for?" Maxwell rephrased, flashing you that same smile he displayed so much for the world to indulge in on television. You hated it. It wasn't real. It wasn't him. You'd seen his real smile when he'd occasionally laugh at one of your jokes, or when he'd spy on you from the corner of his office as you played with Alistair. The small, toothy grin and his little dimple that would appear in his left cheek. Just for once, you wished he'd show you that beautiful smile of his to your face.

No, that wasn't it. You wished for more. You wished for every single dream, every single fantasy you had about him to come true. Could this be your opportunity to reveal all your pent up feelings and jealousy? Maxwell waited patiently, practically seeing the mental cogs turn in your brain as you thought this through. You rubbed your thighs together as your slick had seeped through the thin lace material of your panties.

He had taken everything from you. Now it was finally your turn to take something back.

"I wish," you started and watched as Maxwell closed his eyes. The fact he wasn't looking at you was about to make this so much easier. You were just going to say it. You could do this. "I wish… I wish that just for once, you'd let me fuck you. You'd let me take control. You'd beg and plead for me, be a good boy and do everything I ask of you. And you'll take it," you smile to yourself at the mere thought. "And most importantly, I wish that while we do this, you would just pretend to love me. Pretend to care about me," you felt your eyes sting from the tears you didn't realise had been penting up. That was what it all boiled down to— the helpless crush you'd had on your boss for the past three years. "Please." you finally huffed out.

Maxwell's eyes shot open as a gust of wind blew through the room, knocking the stacks of paper from his desk and breezing through your hair. When you finally looked back at Max, his eyebrows were furrowed together in bewilderment. He looked around his office, slightly dazed, and when he finally looked back at you, you noticed his eyes had darkened considerably. They were almost black with desire.

"Wh- where did that wind come from?" you asked, pulling your hands away from his and quizzically looking around the room. Not a window was open, the fan wasn't on…

Maxwell looked down where, already, his erection was strained against his tailored suit pants. "Holy shit," Maxwell muttered. "It worked. It actually worked." Max dropped his hand to his crotch and began to palm himself through the material, his fingers tracing the outline of his cock. He was painfully hard, trying to ignore the desperation which urged him to get off right then and there.

You gulped, standing up. "I'm sorry Mr Lord," you shook your head feeling embarrassed. You didn't know what had just happened— if your boss had played some kind of sick prank on you, but you weren't willing to stay and find out. "I- I best get back to work."

"No!" Maxwell choked out, rising to his feet and slamming his fists on the desk. The noise was enough to make you jump. "Please," he whispered. "Lock the door and...stay."

You blinked momentarily as you took in his instruction. You'd never heard him speak to you like that before. You slowly stalked over to the double doors, flicked the lock in place before turning back around to face your boss. His hair had fallen slightly out of place, dark blonde strands tousled over his forehead.

As you got closer, you noticed the pearls of sweat that beaded his hairline and the way his eyes became glazed with lust. He swallowed, not saying a word. He just started at you, his gaze following your every movement.

"Mr Lord?" you asked hesitantly. "Are you okay?"

Maxwell's lips parted slightly. "I…" you caught a blush creep upon his cheeks as you walked around his desk. Your eyes widened when you saw the thick outline of his cock pressed against his light grey pants. There was already a small damp patch from his precum.

"Jesus," you whispered. "What- what just happened?"

"K-kiss me," Maxwell pleaded. This was so strange— Max would never plead. He'd never beg, and he'd certainly never ask for you to kiss him. Was he toying with you? But how did he get hard so quick? So many questions. "P-please, I've been a good boy." Your eyes widened at the use of the words 'good boy'— the exact words you had used when he'd asked you for your wish. You stood there, perplexed as Maxwell let out another groan, hastily reaching down to undo his zipper.

"Wait!" you called out, stopping him. You looked over to the unoccupied leather sofa in the corner of his office that was draped in a furry, animal print blanket. "Let's go over here."

Maxwell nodded, shakily standing up and following you over to the sofa. "If… if I lay here will you-" you paused, shaking your head. "I'm going to lay here," you rephrase. "And I want you to fuck me with your tongue."

Maxwell gasped, already licking his lips greedily and nodding his head with excitement.

You kicked off your heels and pulled your skirt down, along with your lace panties, throwing them to one side. "Can I take my pants off?" Max groaned, his fingers grazing the clips of his suspenders as you unbuttoned your blouse.

"No," you shook your head, wanting to deprive him. He'd get the satisfaction he craved eventually, but now it was all about you. "You can take your jacket off though." you shrugged and as if by magic, he shrugged out of his designer suit jacket and let it fall to the floor amongst your clothes.

You sat on the sofa and opened your legs, beckoning Maxwell to come over with your fingers. He slowly stalked over to you, his gaze not tearing from your perfect form once, and he kneeled down in between your legs. "You're so pretty," he whispered, trailing soft and affectionate kisses along the softness of your inner thighs. You moaned, feeling the plumpness of his soft lips and the small trail of saliva as he gently licked and nibbled at the skin. You moaned wantonly, already feeling your toes curl as his face drew closer to your weeping cunt. "Always wanted to do this," Maxwell revealed. "You have the prettiest pussy in the whole fucking office, always wanted to taste."

Max licked a stripe between your folds, his low grumbles vibrating straight through your core. "Agh," you closed your eyes as he licked another stripe. The room began to fill with lewd wet noises, and you felt your cheeks heat up as he lapped at you. "Why- why didn't you taste me sooner?" you asked, genuinely wanting to know an answer.

Maxwell sucked on your clit, holding it between his teeth as he swirled his tongue against your bud in perfect little circles. He pulled off with a pop and a groan, and you managed to get a glance of your juices and how they coated his face, glistening under the amber, artificial lighting. "Afraid," Maxwell groaned, swiping his tongue over his lip and tasting what you had left on him. "Afraid of feeling powerless and not in control. I want you- I wanted you to think of me as someone who makes rules, not follows them."

"But sometimes it's nice to lose control, just a little bit. Let go of your inhibitions…" you smiled, reaching down and letting your hand tangle in his hair. Maxwell mumbled something incoherent before reattaching his lips to your pussy. "F-fuck Max, see? This- this is good, you're so good. Shit." you praised, and it only stirred Maxwell on even more. His cock was throbbing in his pants, it ached for some kind of release. Maxwell pressed the digit of his index finger along the entrance to your hole, teasingly rubbing it as his tongue flicked over your bundle of nerves. "O-oh, you want to finger me?" you chuckle, and feel Maxwell nod against your cunt. "Okay." you grant, and his thick finger immediately presses into you, as he pushes the full way in. As he pumps his finger in and out of you, you find yourself shaking, muttering soft words of praise at him for being so obedient. He curls his finger perfectly so it hits that sweet spot inside of you with every thrust, and his tongue doesn't stray away from you for one moment. He loves the way your walls tighten around his finger and he imagines it was his dick instead— the mere thought making his manhood jump with excitement in his pants. His kitten licks grow more intense as he pulls you towards your first orgasm, your thighs involuntarily shaking around his head as you cum on his tongue. He removes his finger as your climax washes over you, and stares at your cunt with admiration, watching it clench around nothing.

You find yourself heaving and panting as your high washes over you, trying to process everything that just happened. "I've never done that with an employee before," Max revealed, shakily raising to his feet again. You can't contain your smile, knowing that Raquel had been lying earlier. "You tasted just as good as I imagined. So sweet, like fucking candy."

You shuffle upwards to sit up, noticing your wetness on the leather sofa. "When we're finished," you breathe. "I want you to clean up all the mess. Not the cleaners, I want to watch you do it. Okay?" Maxwell nodded obediently and your lips curved into a smile. There was something so satisfying at the thought of a big name CEO like Maxwell Lord clean up after himself. Even more satisfying knowing that he'd be cleaning your cum from the sofa his business associates will be sitting on in just a few hours.

"We're not done?" Max asked, his eyes lit up with hope. You pouted, shaking your head as you crawled over to him. On your knees, you reached up and unclipped his suspenders from the top of his pants, pulling them down his arms and letting the straps fall by his sides.

"No baby," you purred, taking your time to palm his cock over the material of his pants. "See, I could just leave you high and dry, you could've just been my quick fix. Because that's how you see me, isn't it?" you tilted your head and Maxwell frowned, looking away from you with shame. Your fingers found his silver zipper and you slowly pulled it down. "But I'm not like you," you whispered, finally pulling his pants down and freeing his aching cock. You tsked, shaking your head. "Not even wearing boxers. That's naughty of you…"

"W- will you punish me?" Maxwell asked, his puppy dog eyes glistening with desire.

You didn't reply with words, but instead, simply offered him a hum as you wrapped his fingers around his cock. Your eyes widened in surprise at his reaction to your mere touch as he let out a wanton groan and tossed his head back in delight. You spat in your hands and slowly began to pump his long, thick length with one hand. You bring your other hand down to his balls and cup them, rubbing your thumb along the curves as you feel them tighten as you jerk him off.

"C-can you- f-fuck-" Maxwell squeezed his eyes shut as you increased speed.

"What is it baby?" you ask softly. "Struggling to get out your words? Tell me, what do you want? I'm feeling generous."

"Y-your lips, please, your lips around my-my-" Maxwell chokes back a moan as you wrap your mouth along the head of his cock, sucking his tip playfully, your tongue flicking along the small slit that was beaded with precum. You moan as you taste his familiar saltiness. As you continue to suck at his head, you let your fingers grace the column of his cock, rolling your digits softly over his ridges and veins as your pussy twitched at the thought of feeling them inside you. You were desperate to feel him fill you. You were desperate to take full control. But right now, you were too drunk on the idea of overstimulating your boss. Give him a time he'll never, ever forget.

Once you're certain you've milked him of all his precum, you take his full length, gagging slightly as his head pushes against the back of your throat. He's so thick that your jaw aches as he stretches your mouth wide open, a trail of your saliva dripping down your chin. You bobbed your head up and down, thriving on the way he moans your name and strings out low, sleuthy curses of affirmation.

"Can I cum?" he asked, his voice hoarse. Your cunt quivers at the way he asks you for permission. Now you understand why he loves taking control. "I'm close- I'm gonna cum." Max groaned and you began to feel his cock involuntarily twitch in your mouth. You quickly double back, pulling off him and looking up at him with beady eyes. "N-no!" Maxwell gasped, trying to catch his breath.

"Problem?" you asked with a smirk. "Oh baby… you wanted to cum in my mouth?" you frown apologetically. Maxwell nods his head and you take in the way his tears are pricking his pretty brown eyes. He's a mess and he's your mess. "I know somewhere better you can cum." you coo, rising to your feet and pressing a soft kiss into his jaw. "Sit." you command, pointing to the same spot you made yourself comfortable in on the sofa.

Maxwell obeyed, walking over with hunched shoulders holding his cock in one hand as he slowly touched himself. You looked at him with complete desire. You knew how wet you were, but you had never seen him so hard before— you were actually wondering if you'd be able to take him.

You wrap your legs around him, straddling him, and slowly sink on his aching cock. A long, strained moan escaped Maxwell's lips as you pushed yourself all the way down, gasping as he filled you completely. Max half expected you to start riding him, he wished you'd just bounce up and down and milk him for all he had— but of course, you didn't. You stayed seated on him, warming his cock as you adjusted yourself. You began to slowly unbutton his work shirt, pulling it off him and throwing it to the floor. You pressed your hands against his chest as you shimmy even deeper, this time his balls are pressed against the curve of your ass. "Feels so good." you whisper.

"M-move." Maxwell groaned, his eyes tight shut.

"Did you just tell me what to do?" you quizzed and Maxwell quickly shook his head.

"N-no, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it…" Maxwell replied in a quick fluster. "I just….fuck…"

"You're just so desperate to cum, aren't you?" you sighed, smoothing out his dark blonde hair.

"Y-yes." he answered.

You reached down to your clit and began to rub circles, getting yourself off as you sit on his cock. "So here's what's going to happen, I'm gonna cum on your cock and you're going to take it like a good boy. You're gonna feel my pussy clench around you— and you're not— you're not fucking allowed to cum, okay? You're going to take it."

Maxwell tossed his head back, and rested his hands on your hips as he watched you play with yourself, full of his cock. It stirred him on as he gazed at the pretty sight that was before him. You were so good, you had him completely wrapped around your finger. It wasn't long until your walls were tightening around Max, and his perfectly manicured finger

-tips dug into your back.

"You're so beautiful when you cum," Max murmured and you smiled as you let yourself unravel around him. "Fuck, you feel so good. You always feel so good. The- the best,"

"Shit," you moaned. "Wanna cum pretty boy?" you asked with a wicked grin. Max nodded desperately and you adjusted your position, laying back down on the sofa. You whimpered at the loss when his cock slipped out of you, but he was quick to thrust back into when you gave him the command. "Fuck me until you cum then."

The words alone almost made Maxwell explode. You wrapped your legs around his body as he pushed his whole length deep inside you, quickly picking up the fast and brutal pace you were used to. He didn't last long though, and you weren't surprised considering you had edged him this long already. His cum splayed inside of you, painting your walls as he grunted and groaned on top of you, his arms shaking as he tried to stop himself from collapsing on you.

"Fuck," Maxwell gasped, trying to catch his breath. He felt himself soften inside of you, not wanting to pull out just yet. He was cherishing the moment and savouring the feeling. He missed your pretty pussy so much. He wanted to live in this moment forever. As his climax washed over him, he felt the magic of the wish leave his body too. You were a heaving, panting mess but you wouldn't have it any other way.

Max leaned into you, pressing a brisk and gentle kiss on your forehead, down to your nose, and then against your lips. "I love you," he admitted, whispering against your mouth. You felt your breathing catch in your throat at the revelation. "I loved you from the moment I met you. But I- just… was scared."

For a second you thought it was just the wish that was making him come out with these things— but the moment he revealed that he was scared, you knew for sure Max's words were coming from his heart.

"Scared of what?" you asked quietly, still drunk in post-coital haze. You drew lazy circles into his bicep as he nuzzled his head into the crook of his neck. He was so warm, the smell of his expensive cologne filled the room, it was intoxicating.

"I don't know…" he mumbled. "Disappointing you?"

"Oh Maxie," you whispered, pulling him in for another kiss. "You could never disappoint me. I love you too."

Maxwell smiled, his eyes glazed with unshed tears. "I've always dreamed of the day I can show you off… call you mine."

"So let's start from today," you told him, dropping your hand to his and holding it gently.

"Wait, you'll be my girlfriend?" Maxwell asked hopefully.

You nodded with a smile and he kissed you once more, passionately and filled with affection. You could really get used to this.

Taglists — (let me know if you wish to be added!)

Permanent: @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @dybalalover10 @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth @moth-guillotine @pedro-pascal-love @hayley-the-comet @pinkninja190 @maxiarapamaya

Maxwell Lord: @mrschiltoncat

This fic: @lizzowinkyface @dindjarinswhore

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #maxwell lord #max lord #maxwell lord x reader #max lord x reader #wonder woman 1984 #ww84 #pedro pascal smut #max lord smut #maxwell lord smut

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maplecornia · 3 years ago

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Chapter 3

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 3.06K

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: You watched them from the sidelines ever since you were a young teenage girl. Now you’re grown up, they’ve returned after 2 long years and everything has changed. What happens when you pull back the mask and find the darkness within? What happens when you see that they’re broken?

𝔞/𝔫: everytime I upload a chapter my tags increase LMAO i hope you guys are enjoying the story so far ^^ BTW when they're speaking and their words are bolded that means they're speaking in English just a heads up ;)

tags: @kookaine | @fangirl125reader | @kookiebbyxx | @taradevonne

What is he doing here?

And whose clothes do those belong to?

You mouth his name, and in his eyes, you can see the surprise turn to shame.

The sick feeling in your stomach grows bigger.

You pray that you're wrong. That for the first time in your life, your intuition isn't correct. That what you think happened was merely a misunderstanding. That he didn't do what you think he did.

You want to reassure yourself that you didn't give up your heart in vain.

That he still loves you.

But everything points to the signs.

The fact that he only wears boxers, his smooth muscled skin shining in the soft moonlight.

The pile of mixed clothes on the floor.

The look in his eyes and the ruffled mess of his hair.

Everything tells you what you already know.

"What's going on?" you ask, your voice shaking. He doesn't meet your eyes.

The sick feeling grows deeper in your chest.

"What's going on?" you repeat, your voice stronger and more severe.

Even if your heart can't stand strong, at least you can.

He opens his mouth to reply, but instead, you hear a woman's voice from the bedroom.

Your bedroom.

"Babe, who is that?" you can't seem to look away from the door that it materialized from, as he looks between it and you, unsure of what to do. As though he were the one trapped. As though he were the one who was in pain. As though he were the victim here.

Instead of the murderer.

As she comes into view in the doorway, rubbing her eyes and running her hands through her hair, you can't move. You're frozen, and the world completely disappears, a roar of static noise rising in your ears.

No.

NO.

This can't be happening. Not to you. You were so careful. You were so sure. So sure that he felt the same. So sure that he was yours and yours alone. So sure that nothing would be able to break what you shared. That you had finally found the one.

However, as she looks at you, her green eyes spark with realization. Then as they quickly turn to shame, she avoids your gaze as well.

You know.

This is happening.

It's real.

And there's no turning back from it.

You can't feel yourself as you start to cry.

In the shower, the hot water clings to your skin, mixing with the tears. You lean against the tiled wall, squeezing your eyes shut, you cling to yourself. Nails digging into your flesh, you bite your lip, shaking violently.

Mixed images of his face flash through your mind unwillingly.

Hiding alone, the steam surrounding you in a thick veil of deception, you give in to the pain.

You allow the tears to come.

You allow his face to stare into yours once more. You paint the same hazelnut gaze of his eyes. You try to recall the safety you once felt when he held you in his arms. You pull pieces of the same warmth that rose in your cold body flushing your face when he smiled at you, out of the depths of your mind. You look for the tenderness reflecting in his eyes when he whispered that he loved you. You sigh as you remember the way his curly hair had felt on your skin as you ran your hands through it. You picture his perfectly sculpted face, high cheekbones, and long eyelashes. The strong jaw and full lips. The curve of his throat and the touch of his body.

The mirage holds you in its embrace, makes you forget everything, all the pain, all the hurt, the betrayal that tore your soul apart for his pleasure.

However, when it leans in to kiss you, your eyes fly open to reality, and you find yourself hugging your body, the shower still running.

Shaking your head, you proceed to clean yourself, hoping that perhaps the water could wash away the pain.

Some things weren't enough. Some things are not good to dwell over. Some things are better left locked away.

In the end, it wasn't real.

None of it was real.

Done with the shower, you turn the water off, strands of hair falling in your face, and droplets of water dripping off of your body.

Was any part you enough to keep him?

Was this body?

Was it enough to have him wait for you?

Looking down at yourself, you press your fingers against your stomach, pulling at the flesh and skin as though it would change anything.

Were you enough?

Shaking the thought out of your mind, you reach for your towel as you open the shower curtain and step out into the steamy bathroom. Flipping on the fan switch, you dry yourself off, avoiding the reflection in the mirror. You lotion your body down, before pulling on your bra and underwear. Ignoring the drips from your hair, you tug on a loose T-shirt and shorts, and shake out your head, water falling everywhere as though you were a wet dog.

Sighing, you turn to the mirror, where fog from the shower is fading, water droplets trailing down like rain and making pathways. You follow them with your eyes for a moment before, in a sudden urge, you swipe your hand across the screen, destroying their peaceful journey. What's left of your reflection.

Staring into your eyes, you can see just how tired you look. Just how worn down you are. Touching just below your eye, the dark circles under your eyes from restless nights of tears and loss of sleep stand out like a stain on your skin.

What has he done to you?

This isn't you, this isn't who you are.

What has he turned you into?

Sighing, you turn away from the mirror and pull on your robe.

Drying your hair off with your towel, you pull open the door and walk outside, your wet feet slapping on the crisp wood floor as you make your way into the living room.

You look around for any sign of Jae or Miji, but they are nowhere to be seen. Glancing over at the kitchen island, you spot a small piece of paper. Taking it into your fingers, you read the neat block letters of Jaejin's handwriting. His Korean alphabet is so structured, so neat and so straight as though it were the writing of a computer. It reads:

“Hey, I’m sorry we left, but Mijeong prepared a surprise birthday dinner for me tonight, we’ll be back later so help yourself to make dinner or whatever. Remember this is your home now too, I love you!!”

You smile at the thoughtful letter and pocket it in your robe.

You had prepared a gift for Jae today yourself, but you'd reckon you'd just give it to him later.

Turning to the room you take a deep breath before beginning to explore.

The living room is very spacious, which you prefer. The TV is elevated on the left wall from the kitchen, the couch positioned against the right wall across from the screen. In the middle of the room, there is a cute small glass coffee table with forgotten magazines and books laying on top of it. Underneath the TV there are many different bookshelves with movies, books, and magazines shelved on them. All around the apartment, there are potted plants, cute decorations, and some photographs.

Stepping onto the carpet, you dig your feet into it as though it were the warm sand on the beach.

"I would have been fine sleeping on this floor, you know. This is like heaven." You murmur to yourself, closing your eyes in content. You wait there for a moment before the soft plinks of rain begin outside, knocking you out of your stupor.

Opening your eyes, you turn to the balcony's clear screen door and press your hand against it. Gazing outside, you smile at the sight of rain against the lights of the city. Opening the door a crack, you close your eyes, taking a deep breath.

After a moment, you step back inside and shut the screen door, turning to the kitchen. You pull out a pot and fill it with water before setting it on the ceramic stove and heating it. As you wait for it to boil, you pull out your phone and turn the notifications off from vibration. As soon as you do, you click on your Instagram and into the group chat you share with your friends.

Looking through, you can't help but feel a bit conflicted.

Biting your lip, your finger hovers over the message box before you quickly pull away and place your phone on the counter. Letting out a shaky breath, you swallow the lump rising dangerously in your throat before looking away.

You're sensitive today.

You knew it was going to be like this.

When you moved in the middle of high school back home, it was the same. Their lives carried on without you. They still had fun, they still had other things to do, they still had a life outside of you. Outside of you being there.

Things were different.

They were still your friends, they'll always be your friends, but they weren't the same.

Will they ever be the same?

When you hear the crackling of the boiling water, your head snaps up and you pocket the phone once more. You pull the pot off the stove and grab a mug out of one of the many cabinets in Jae's kitchen. As you set it beside the cooling water on the counter, you search his pantry for a cocoa mix. Normally you would have tea, but right after the sight of the rain, you're in the mood for something to warm you from the inside out.

Something to remind you of home.

On cold, rainy days after you and your friends would practice at the dance studio, or finish having a meal together or anything simple like that; you would hurry home and with your group, you would make them cocoa. You would start a fire and would sit with each other spending the time together, happy and complete.

The nostalgia and sadness growing too much, you are relieved when you find the hot cocoa packets. You let out a little shout of happiness and accomplishment before walking out of the pantry and dumping the contents into the cup. Setting the packet aside, you take the pot of water and carefully pour it into the cup as well. While the powder and water slowly swirl together, you rummage for a spoon before mixing it. Once you're satisfied, you sip it carefully and...

...almost burn your tongue off.

Coughing violently, you set it down and focus on putting away everything you brought out, giving it time to cool off. Once everything is done and put away, you pick up your mug, holding it to your face as you softly blow on it. Even now the smell and the warmth of it is getting rid of the chill you feel whenever you're alone.

Settling yourself amongst the blankets and pillows on the couch, you take the TV remote off of the coffee table and turn on the TV. Netflix pops up and you search for a K- drama you were watching before you left. When you find it, you press play, leaving off captions so that you can practice your Korean a bit more.

As the intro starts, you hum along to it, setting up a sort of bed so you can watch comfortably. Once it's done, you lay down, your head sinking into a pillow comfortably, and a soft gray blanket pulled over your body. You're in a position so that you can still lounge but won't spill your cocoa.

As the show begins, you mouth the words along with them. When you can't catch what they say, you're quick to rewind it and try it again until you understand. You laugh with the show, cry with it, finding yourself on an emotional roller coaster.

You've always been like this, too emotional, too easily attached, too naive. Always careful to keep yourself at a reasonable distance from anyone who could hurt you. From anyone who you couldn't handle if they left you. It takes a while for you to open yourself up to someone, and when you do, you're wholly and completely theirs.

It's a lose-lose situation.

A lose-lose way of life.

Before you know it, the cocoa is gone and the episode is almost over. Setting the mug on the coffee table, you settle back into the pillow. As you watch, your eyes grow heavy, and you drift further and further away. The last thing you see before you close them is their touching kiss before they flutter shut and you fall into a restless sleep.

Hours pass as you lie there on the couch, sleeping. The show continues to play until the question "are you still watching?" shows up on the screen as it often does when you've been watching for a while without much activity.

Once the show is off, the apartment goes silent and it seems almost empty. In the far background, there are the sounds of cars honking, the screech of tires on the pavement, even the sound of music from the billboards and clubs.

This is like home, these sounds are familiar. These are the reasons why you sleep so soundly, hugging the pillow as though it were your lifeline.

You do not wake when Mijeong and Jaejin enter the apartment. They are laughing, but as soon as they see you on the couch, fast asleep, they fall quiet, each one of them smiling softly.

They hold unimaginable compassion for you and deep love.

Mijeong immediately sets down her stuff, sliding out of her shoes and walking towards you. Tenderly, she brushes back your hair as though she were your mother taking care of you.

“She’s sound asleep.” She whispers, just as Jaejin joins her side.

“That’s not like her. She’s such a light sleeper, she would have woken up when we came home.” He replies worry reflected in his eyes. Mijeong’s smile, at his statement, fades away and she nods.

“She must be in so much pain that she wants to drown out the world around her,” Mijeong says sadly before standing up and clearing her throat.

“Let's take her to her room.” When Jaejin doesn't move, she gives him an expectant look and he jolts to attention. She hits him softly on his arm and he lets out a slight joking yelp.

"I was going to do it, I just wasn't ready yet." He whines, and she chuckles before leading the way to your room as Jaejin picks you up with strong, sure arms. Cradled in his arms as though you were a baby, he looks down at you with a tender look. He hates that he can't help you.

No one can.

He smiles how sound asleep you are now, cradled in his arms, your head resting against the crook of his neck. Mijeong, watching the encounter, smiles as well. He notices her look and his attention changes immediately from you to her in a second.

“What is it?” he asks, and she shakes her head, opening the door to your newly acclaimed bedroom.

“Nothing.” She says but a sly smile is playing at her lips, as though she’s concealing a secret. Which she is. A secret that, at that moment, she thought he would make a great father. A secret that at that moment, she wanted things with him that were far off in the future, but very real to her now.

As they walk into your room, Mijeong pulls back the covers, and Jaejin sets you down softly on the bed. Once you are out of his arms, and Mijeong pulls the covers up over your body, you settle instinctively into the soft mattress, and immediately curl up into a ball, holding tightly to one of the many pillows on your bed. They smile as they watch over you, and Jaejin presses a soft kiss on your forehead. Mijeong does the same, brushing back strands of hair on your forehead. Turning around, they share a tender look before walking out of the room and cracking the door shut behind them.

“Are you sure that she’ll be okay?” Mijeong asks as soon as the door is shut. Jaejin looks at her a bit surprised.

“Of course. Why, are you having second thoughts?” he asks before heading into the living room, Mijeong not far behind.

"No. I'm not, I just....I wish we could tell her before we do anything. She's going to wake up and we'll be gone." Mijeong explains, following him and settling on the counter. Jaejin pauses from setting the living room in order and turns to her. He takes her hand in his own and kisses her softly on the forehead before pressing his forehead to hers tenderly.

"I love you, and I wish we could have told her before we leave tomorrow, but she will be okay. She'll have the apartment, and my job at Big Hit to take over. Everything will be okay." He reassures her. Mijeong hesitates before nodding her head in agreement. Jaejin smiles, before pulling away and turning off the TV. "Besides, I'll leave her a note just like we did tonight before we take off in the morning. This is just too much of an amazing opportunity for you and for me to waste."

"I know." Mijeong answers, rocking on the counter as she swings her legs back and forth. "Not every model gets a chance to appear at Fashion Week, but Jae....she'll be all alone."

Done with ordering the room, he chuckles as he begins to make his way back to her.

"She is a grown-up you know. It’s only a few months, she can take care of herself." He says, pulling her off the counter and spinning around in the air before setting her down as she giggles and leans on him, a little dizzy.

"Don't worry," he reassures her once more before heading into their room, his voice fading as he closes the door behind him.

"Yen will be okay. She always is."

𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢: thanks to everyone who read! so why do you think miss Yen moved to Korea?

I'm going to be updating my mutuals list (because I never had it to begin with ;-;) on my navigation so if you want to be added, pls ask me ^^ thankssss

chapter 4 here

check the Infinite Stars masterlist for more chapters

check my BTS masterlist for other BTS content

check out my masterlist for other kpop fanfics

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clouditae · 4 years ago

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Sugar and Spice | 02

Word: 4.8k

Your friends ask you whether you prefer sugar or spice

Chapter Index

There's a lot to expect when it comes to Taehyung, but you honestly don't know what to expect when it comes to Taehyung. If he claims to be the rougher type, what does he plan on doing? Tie you up? Does he have a paddle? You watched porn last night when you got home. To be more specific you looked up rough sex and what you saw compared to what you see in movies is totally different.

With all this knowledge, you exit your shower, dry yourself and walk into your bedroom where your clothes lay out. You put on your laced underwear and bra before putting on a pair of shorts and a grey tank top. Yesterday you wore a cute and somewhat tight outfit, but today you're wearing something simple. There's no point in wearing something nice if it's going to be immediately removed. Once again you put light make-up on, but this time you apply red lipstick to give your look a little pop to it. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you can't help but feel a little ridiculous having lipstick on, but you don't have time to remove it as your phone chimes.

Making your way towards your bed where your phone charges, you pick it up and check the message you received from Taehyung.

[4:21pm] Tae:‌ Are you on your way?

Sending a quick text, you grab your bag and keys, slip on your shoes and head out the door. Your pace as you head towards your car is quick, almost running like. Trying to slow yourself down, you can't help but feel ridiculous because you're so eager to get to Taehyung and Jungkook's apartment. You're eager to finally see what it's like to have sex with Taehyung. The one with the most body counts compared to the two. You'll just be another number to him, but at least you can say you had sex with him and still remain friends. You're crushing on someone else in the huge friend group you're in.

You stand in front of the apartment door in excitement and fear. You know that the second you knock on the door and enter the apartment, there is no turning back. You're at Tae's every command. With a sigh and no more thinking, you knock on the apartment door and wait.

You're not sure if you're hearing the sound of footsteps making their way towards the door or if it's just the sound of your racing heart that is filling the silence, but as you wait for a few more seconds the door opens. He's wearing a white buttoned up floral shirt with a black coat over it, black dress pants, and a red scarf with white lilies tied around his neck. He looks like he came back from a meeting and decided to throw some fashion into his outfit. He looks like a model. A model that's about to rock your world.

He smiles, biting his lower lip as he eyes you up and down. "Grey," he begins, moving out of the way so you can enter the apartment, "my favorite color."‌ You can feel the heat rise in your cheeks as you enter the building, the door closing behind you and a small click as he locks it. "So how this is going to happen," he starts, making his way into the living room with you following in tow, "is that I have a little surprise for you." He takes a seat on the sofa, arms spread out along the inside back of the sofa, legs spreading just enough. To you he looks like he's waiting for the stripper to come in and perform.

He looks at you for a moment before motioning with his eyes for you to stand in front of the television. You do as instructed, slowly making your way to stand in front of him. "You'll do whatever I say." You open your mouth to protest but he speaks again, "I will let things slide since this is your first time with someone like me." You close your mouth and wait for him to continue. "The safe word is peach. You say the word and I stop. Good so far?" You nod. You don't think you're ready for what he has in store. "I'd like to be called Daddy."

"No." You frown in disgust. He's your friend not your boyfriend or anything that gives him permission to be called such a name.

He only shrugs. "You'll say it one way or another." You wonder if that's a threat or a promise, but you don't have the chance to think further as he settles further into the sofa. "Strip."‌

You stand frozen, as if you heard him wrong. "What?" you ask, voice wavering just a bit.

"We're starting now, love. Strip," he commands in such a low voice you almost want to throw your clothes off immediately. He stares at you as you slowly remove your top, his eyes dark and lustful. It's like he turned into an animal in such a few short seconds. One second he was his usual, horny self, but when it comes to getting down and dirty he's an animal lying in wait ready to pounce on his prey. You let the shirt fall from your grasp as you unbutton your jean shorts, eyes on him the entire time. You're slightly afraid to break eye contact with him. Taehyung isn't Taehyung anymore, and you do not want to test the waters with him today.

As the shorts fall to the floor you are now standing in front of him in nothing but your undergarments. He eyes you slowly, taking everything in with his lustful gaze. You can see him undressing you fully with his eyes as he licks his lips. With a single motion of his finger, you make your way towards him, your feet almost touching his. He gestures with his head, commanding, "Sit." Slipping off your shoes you straddle him, hands on your lap and waiting for his next order.

His hand reaches for your face, caressing your cheek before moving to the back of your neck and bringing you in for a kiss. Tae's kisses are nothing like Jungkook's. Jungkook kissed you slowly and with love in a way. Taehyung, on the other hand, is kissing you with so much need and want that it takes three seconds for his tongue to enter and explore every inch of your mouth, his hand traveling from your neck down to your thigh while the other reaches for your ass. He grips your skin, his teeth grazing your lower lip.

You've never felt so desperate for something to happen. Maybe a cup of your breast, a pinch at your nipple—hell you want his fingers in you already. While Jungkook gave off this warm and welcoming feeling, Taehyung's entire demeanor is just... commanding. He smacks your ass hard, earning a gasp from you. "Move," he mutters against your lips, his lower region already showing signs of rising. You grind your hips slowly as his lips trail down your neck until it reaches your bra. With one hand, he reaches behind you and unclasps your bra, tossing it somewhere to the side. "I've always wanted to fuck you," he confesses, both hands now cupping your breasts, massaging them as he licks one nipple. "To feel you writhe under me—beg me to fuck the shit out of you."

You can feel the heat grow in your region. You're a switch, but you've never been with a dominate as strong as Taehyung. It's like whatever he says you're ready to do it. "Why haven't you?" you asked, genuinely curious as to why Taehyung, the biggest fuck boy has never once tried to make a move on you.

He chuckles, biting your nipple hard, sucking as you let out a small cry. "You're Y/N," he begins, switching to focus on your other breast, "I don't fuck my friends." You watch him grin, flicking your tip as he adds, "Guess I broke that rule."‌ You can't help but moan as you brush against his member fully erect. "Let's take this to the bedroom." You reluctantly get up, seeing a small wet spot on his pants where his erection is full and big. You can't help but swallow at the thought of how big it actually is. He gets to his feet, removing the scarf around his neck. "Hands out."

Bringing your hands out towards him, Taehyung brings your wrists together and ties them together with the scarf. "Do you..." you trail off, thinking if the question is something you want to ask.

"Do I do this with every person I'm with?" he asks for you, glancing at you as he tightens the knot. "Rarely. You're a special occasion."‌ He spins you in the direction of the hallway. "Bedroom." As you make your way towards his bedroom, you can hear Taehyung call out, "Jungkook's right. You have a nice ass." You can't stop the smile growing on your lips as you come to a stop in front of his bedroom door. Waiting for a few seconds you can hear Tae's footsteps making its way towards you. "Ready?" he asks you, placing his hand on the nob. You nod in sheer excitement and anticipation as he twists the nob and opens the door.

That excitement and anticipation immediately left you as you covered your boobs as best you can. In the room was a person sitting on a chair against the back wall. She has an inexpressive look as she looks at you and Taehyung. "Tae—" He interrupts you.

"Y/N, this is Marie." You look at him as he glances to Marie. "Marie was going to be you if you didn't agree to this. Jungkook would have gotten Gray and I decided to go with Marie," he explains, looking back to you. "Like myself, Marie here is into rough sex. A kink of both of ours is watching."

You put two and two together. "You’re going to have her watch?" You feel horrified at the thought.

"It's really no different to watching porn," he counters. "The difference is that you're watching it in person rather than on a screen."

You shake your head. "This is insane." What is he thinking? Probably nothing but getting you in bed.

"C'mon, Y/N. It's not like she's going to join. She's just going to watch and later tonight she'll have her turn. Isn't that right, love."

You look at the blonde, watching her as she looks you up and down. "You're not my type anyway," she deadpans. You actually feel offended by her comment. You want to say something rude back, but Taehyung speaks again.

"If you're not in, just say the safe word." Looking at him, he only shrugs and waits for your reply. You weigh your options. Go in and discover if you have a kink for people watching, or go home and say Jungkook's vanilla sex is better than Taehyung's. Taehyung. The guy you won't ever have a chance to fuck again if you leave now. You refuse to think of anything else as you enter his bedroom. "Good girl."‌ As Taehyung closes the door behind you, he closes any option for you to leave.

You’re a sheep in a lion's den.

From where Marie is sitting, you realize that she has a clear and good view of the bed. You can feel your heart racing as Taehyung makes his way to the edge of the bed, looking at you expectantly. Taking a small hint of what he wants, you make your way over to him, standing next to him and letting him grab you by your arms and place you in front of him, your back legs pressed against the mattress. With a single push you'll be on the bed, but instead he lets you get on the bed yourself. "Further back," he instructs, and you do as told, moving back more with no help from your hands. Once your feet are at the edge, Taehyung removes his jacket, rolling up the sleeves to his white long sleeved shirt, eyeing you with such an intense look you can feel yourself getting wet.

He gets to his knees, grabbing you by your ankles and pulling you back just enough. There is no time for you to lift your bottom up for him to remove your underwear, he just rips it off you. You gasp in shock. "I saved your bra," he counters, tossing your ripped garment to the side. You can't look at the girl staring at you, and you feel like staring at Taehyung would be weird when she's still staring at you. So, you opt to look up, but what you weren't expecting when you look up is to see a mirror on the ceiling. You can see the entire bed, see the top of Taehyung's head and almost your entire body if it weren't for Tae covering your lower half.

If you look to the left of the mirror, you can see Marie. You can't help but wonder why she likes to watch. Why she likes to sit there and watch to people have sex but not be in the action itself. Maybe she does, but just with one person. Maybe she's the type to watch first, get in the mood and then have sex with whoever is waiting for her. Is she—

You moan as you feel Taehyung latch on to your clit and suck, his tongue flicking between every take. You throw your head back, still seeing yourself in the mirror as you clutch your hands together, his fingers brushing between your inner lips. You want to grab a hold of his sheets, his hair, anything that isn't your hands, but you can't. He tied your hands together tightly, preventing you from even moving them so much that you can free yourself. Another moan as a single finger enters you, slow for a few seconds to get it lubed up before entering a second finger and quickening his pace, curling his fingers and hitting your spot just perfectly.

"Tae—" you choke, arching your back as you close your legs around him, but it doesn't stop him from continuing, his fingers and tongue working its magic. The stars are coming, your hands going to grip what little hair you can, the heat becoming unbearable and ready to explode. "I'm coming," ‌you pant, feeling it coming, but then he stops. He removes his lips from your bud, his fingers from your core and stands up. He smirks down at you, wiping away the juices from his lips. "Why'd you stop?" you whine, looking at him with confusion and anger.

"You're not coming until I say so," he tells you, unbuttoning his shirt. "Head at the end of the bed." As he gets the last button undone, he removes it, letting it fall to the floor. He works on the belt as you sit up and move yourself to the opposite end of the bed, your head close to the edge of the bed. You stare up at him as he unbuckles his belt and unbuttons his pants, leaving him in just his boxers. "I hope you've had practice with your breathing." He slips off his remaining article, his fully erect member revealed in all its glory.

While Taehyung doesn't have the body of a sculpted god like Jungkook, he makes up for it in the girth that is his throbbing penis. While both boys have an almost same size penis, you can just tell that Taehyung could throw you in for a whirlwind of orgasms if he wanted. "Closer." Your eyes travel from his throb to his eyes. "Head needs to be over the edge." You scoot up until your neck is resting on the edge and you're seeing upside down. "There you go, baby." He scoots forward, holding his bulge out towards you. "Open your mouth."

You open your mouth, feeling him enter himself, his staff filling your mouth and continuing to go further in until you almost gag. He pulls out, a hiss escaping past his lips until just the tip is in your mouth. "Suck." You focus on the tip of his erection, remembering the way Jungkook writhed under you when you took control. You want Taehyung to be the same, but as you swirl your tongue and fiddle with the tip, he doesn't look half as desperate as Jungkook was. Taehyung pushes himself back in. You hollow out your cheeks as you feel him at the back of your throat again. "You're so warm, baby girl. I could fuck your dirty little mouth all day." He comes back out and you gasp for air a bit. "I want to come in that mouth and watch you swallow." Back in. Harder. Faster.

He doesn't stop this time. Taehyung continues to mouth fuck you until your eyes water, vision blurs and your gagging loudly. He hits your breasts until they sting and feel warm. He pinches your nipples and pulls until you can no longer feel them. Taehyung does all this while getting you wetter by the minute with his words. He tells you everything he wishes he could do if you were his everyday for whenever he wanted you. His "fuck toy" he calls it. One call and you're there. The orgasms he'd bring you to. The screams the entire complex would hear as he pounds into you. His words fuel you to give him the best orgasm you can as you lie there with your hands tied. As he pulls out, you hum to give him a little more pleasure, and it works as you hear a moan leave his lips.

"Fuck," he growls, thrusting into your mouth as fast as he can. "You are so fucking beautiful."‌ He grunts, holding himself still deep in your mouth, his warm seed filing your mouth. He pulls out, watching you as you swallow before taking in the biggest gasp of air you have been begging for since his penis entered your mouth. You sit up and wipe away the tears that clouded your eyes. You feel his lips on your shoulder, kissing his way up to your neck. You move your head to the side to give him more access as his hands travel to your breasts. He cups them and squeezes as he licks and bites your neck. You let out a sigh, enjoying the feeling of his hands and mouth. His lips travel up to your ear, his lips brushing along your skin. "Are you ready?" You nod in response, closing your eyes as you wait for his instructions. "Marie, love, bring my toys."

Your eyes shoot open and you look back to Taehyung. "Toys?" you ask, the obvious fear in your tone. It's not because you don't know what kind of toys, but it's because he has toys for you.

"Just bought them yesterday," he explains, holding his hand out as Marie hands him a black, heavy looking bag. When she hands it to him, he looks at her like he wants to devour her, and she looks at him with just the same look in her eyes. If you weren't in this room you're pretty sure that they would go at it like wild animals. They say nothing as Marie makes her way back to her chair and Tae's attention is back on you. "All fours."

You comply, struggling as you move your legs back behind you all while trying not to get your legs stuck between Taehyung's sheets. As you finally settle on your arms and knees, your ass facing the sex driven boy behind you, you feel his hands rub against your cheeks. He feels the curves and dips to your ass and thighs as his finger goes up between your inner thighs.

You can feel the hot trail follow as he goes higher and higher until he reaches your lips, his finger brushing along and sending a shiver down your spine. You want his fingers in you again; you want to feel the way he curves his digits and hits your spots just right. You wait in anticipation for his fingers to make its way inside your walls, but they never do. Instead you hear the sound of something vibrating. You listen to the sound, trying to figure out what it is, but you soon discover what the vibrating object is as Taehyung enters it inside you instead of his fingers.

It's big and you hiss at the slight pain before the vibrating dildo is pulled out and then pushed back in. You rest your head against your closed fists, adjusting to a size you're not used to, but with the vibration to the object, your pain is practically replaced by pleasure as you let out a deep breath to keep from moaning. Taehyung takes his time helping you build your pressure compared to earlier when his fingers were rough and fast. What you weren't expecting as you enjoyed the slow pleasure was to hear another vibrating object and for it to be placed on your clit, sending you to a whole new wave of pleasure.

"Ah," you moan, body jerking from the new piece. "Tae."

"It's your turn to move, baby." He keeps the dildo still, waiting for you to move on your own to build your high. So you move forward until it's just the tip inside you before slamming back, Taehyung's grip on the item no longer there. He chuckles. "Eager I see." Once you feel his grip back on the object, you do it again. He keeps his grip tight as you slam into the dildo, moaning loudly as you enjoy the feeling of having two pieces help bring the orgasm you've wanted since sitting on his lap in the living room.

However, once again, Taehyung takes away your moment. Both the vibrator and dildo are no longer in or on your womanhood, leaving you desperate and hornier than ever. You feel the objects fall on the bed beside your legs and of no longer interest. It is only two seconds of feeling empty before you feel something else enter you, a little bigger than the dildo, but ten times better. Taehyung holds onto your waist as he immediately slams into you, causing you to hold still as he thrusts with no patience or ease.

"Taehyung," you cry, clutching onto the sheets as he smacks your ass.

"Fuck, you're tighter than I expected baby girl. You're so warm and wet." He pushes you forward and you're fully on your stomach. He climbs on top, never separating himself from you as he adjusts his legs around you and continues his unpaced thrusts. He places a hand on your neck, keeping you from getting up as he fucks you, the bed banging against the wall. The room is hot and you're sweating more than you've ever had, but none of it matters as you cry in sheer pleasure.

You want him to go faster, deeper than he's already going, but no words are leaving your mouth. Only his name is heard like a mantra as you lose yourself in the madness of it all. "Tae—" As if knowing you're close, Taehyung pulls out, leaving you in need once again. He grabs a hold of your waist pulling you to one side and you comply rolling on to your back. He climbs back onto the bed, grabbing his arousal and lining it with your entrance. He pushes in just the tip, eyes on you clouded with lust as you moan. He pushes in a bit more, earning a gasp from you.

He leans forward, kissing you as he places his hand around your neck. "Please," you beg, looking at him with hungry eyes you know you're wearing.

Taehyung grins, tightening his grip around you and pushes himself all the way in. You whimper, feeling him go deeper than he has before. He exhales, his warm breath hitting your sticky skin. His eyes are shut tight as if he's trying to stop himself from ejaculating already. You clench your walls, feeling his grip around you go tighter. He lets out a low chuckle. "It's not time yet, cupcake." Taehyung adjusts his position so that he's on his knees and his weight isn't on his hands. "Look up and watch me fuck you."

You look up at yourself in the mirror, watching as Taehyung slowly pulls himself out in a tease like manner. All he's done is pound into you, but now he's slow and waiting for the words. The words he's been waiting for since you first entered the apartment, but you're not going to give it to him. He slams into you, earning a choked gasp. He pulls out again, slow, teasing, before slamming back into you once again. You moan as he continues his unpredictable thrusts. One moment he slams into you and pulls out slowly, and the next he's doing the opposite, giving you no time to prepare. You watch from above, his hands wrapped around your neck, your breasts bouncing and sweat dripping from the both of you.

You watch him as he reaches for a red object next to the purple dildo, to which you realize is the vibrator he's been using. It's almost the same size as his hand, but his hand is bigger, covering it almost completely as he brings the vibrator close to your flower. He places it along your clit, the feel of it is like a tongue. He grins down at you. "Ready to break the bed?"

With one click on the vibrator, and his pounding, you're sent to loud moans and legs wanting to close. You grip onto his wrist, the hand that holds your neck tightly as you're driven into another build up of pleasure. He presses the red piece to your clit, pounding harder until the bed is squeaking and thumping hardly against the wall to the point where you can actually feel the bed jump off the floor just a bit.

You look to Marie. You see it in her eyes the lust that she had only for him come back as she watches. You see that she wants to be you right now. To be the one feeling every inch of him. You see it in the way she rubs her thighs together, her hands clutching onto her skirt. You want her to experience what you're going through, too. You want her to feel that pressure building, ready to come and come hard.

You look to Taehyung. "I'm going to come,"‌ you cry.

He cocks his head to the side. "Oh are you?"

He pulls the vibrator away, but your grip on his wrist tightens. "No. Please please please. Please let me come."

Taehyung presses the object back onto your bead again. Harder. "Please what?" You're seeing stars. You're close. So close. "Please, what, Y/N," he repeats.

"Please Daddy," you beg with a whimper.

He grins, licking his lower lip as a trail of sweat rolls down the side of his face. "There you go, baby girl."

He tightens his grip around your neck and you're seeing stars as you forget how to breathe. And so, you finally come. You come so hard and with so much pressure that your body shakes aggressively. You don't hear Taehyung curse under his breath, or feel his thrusts go ragged as he comes shortly after. You're too lost in your own high to feel anything.

As everything stills and heavy breathing is the only thing filling the silence, Taehyung releases his grip around your neck, pulling out and you flinch. "Damn, Y/N," he begins, putting the vibrator on the side and getting off the bed, "we actually broke the bed."

You sit up and notice that the top right side of the bed is angled downward. The base of the bed is broken.

You're sitting in the boy's kitchen with your work spread out in front of you. You're tired and in no mood to work on the assignment, but you have to finish it since it's due tomorrow. You hear the sound of footsteps making its way towards you and you let out a sigh as you look up to see Taehyung and Jungkook enter the kitchen.

They stand in front of you. "So, Y/N," Taehyung begins, resting his palms on the table like he did when they first asked you to have sex with them, "which is better? Sugar or spice?"

Jungkook rolls his eyes. "Vanilla or rough sex, Hyung."

"Whatever—which is better?" he questions again, not bothering to listen to the younger boy but more interested in your answer.

You look between the two, remembering the sex you had with the both of them. The feelings you felt with the two of them. You let out a sigh and they're both on edge.

"Can we have a round two?" you ask.

257 notes · View notes

wannabemobwife · 4 years ago

Text

Guns, Glamour and Goodfellas - Chapter 17

Chapter 17: Blood is Thicker than Water

Dad!Mob!Tom x Mom!Mob!Reader

-Pairings: Tom Holland x Reader, Rosie Holland x Henry Osterfield, Rosie Holland x Linus Perry

-Warnings: References to sex, language, typos, sad thoughts, attempted suicide, vomiting

-Words: 4.4K

A/n: Thank you so mucg guys with all the live support. Finally done, yay, with part 1

Chapter 17: Blood is Thicker than Water

Words: 4.4K

Four years had passed and Rosie was the only one to stick around. Everything had changed. You and Tom were currently on your trip around the world. Traveling everywhere from Cuba to Greece. Taking in sights of the world.

Embarking on journey covering 3 continents and 10 countries so far. You had already visited the Taj Mahal in India, the Amalfi Coast for some sun, and Iceland just for the blue lagoon hot springs. You and Tom were having the time of your lives, it being the perfect distraction from everything back home.

Rosie was running the mob along with her new right hand and consigliere, Linus. Rosie had been taking on the mantle as the new leader of the Holland mob. Picking up where Parker left off. Trying to do him justice. Tom had helped her learn the ropes but she always had that fiery personality desired for a mob persona.

After four years, Rosie learned to embrace her grief instead of shoving it away, she began to visit Parker’s grave more and more. Tried to every week, but life got in the way. She would bring a new set of flowers to freshen up the old ones.

She knew today would be especially hard, every year it was impossible. Rosie could barely get through the day. Today was her 20th birthday, marking 4 years of celebrating without Parker.

Rosie and Henry’s relationship had grown into one full of misery. Trapped in a loveless relationship, but he was still her best friend. With just one look he would know what she was thinking.

Over the past couple years, Henry has been so obsessed with keeping her safe that it was driving her mad. Rosie understood that Henry didn’t want to lose her like he lost Parker, but Rosie ran a mob and danger followed her everywhere. They started drifting apart when everything happened with the Holland family, creating unfixable cracks in their foundation.

Lately, Rosie had been feeling someone watching her every move. Following her whenever she would be downtown. Feeling a presence she hasn’t felt in a while. Constantly shivering in fear, feeling as though she was observed. From then on, every move she made was calculated and thought out.

When Rosie first took on the mantle, she cleaned house. Eliminating those whose loyalty would always lie with Tom. Trying to affirm the fact that she was so much more than just Tom’s daughter. She had let William go and few others because she brought in Linus.

Even after starting her new regime, things have been a bit off, lately. She hasn’t been sleeping through the night. She’d jolt out of sleep, drenched in a cold sweat. Henry would be startled awake as well by her movement as move to comfort her.

“Roo, you okay?” Henry asked groggily, yawning a bit. Rosie gasping to catch her breath. Her dreams were supposed to be an escape but now they were doing more harm than good. “I don’t know. I keep having these dreams about Parker. Like he was trying to tell me something,” Rosie said, gathering her bearings. It wasn’t everyday she was visited by her deceased twin brother. “From beyond the grave?…Rosie, he’s gone,” Henry pondered. “I know, I just can’t shake this feeling. That he is… he’s.”

“What? Still alive? Honey, we buried him. You cried over him. If he was still alive don’t you think we would’ve shown his face by now. Wilson and Carter are gone, they have been for awhile now,” Henry explained, hoping it would bring her some solace. Henry wasn’t blind to the change in her demeanor, she did open up to him about being followed everywhere she went. “I guess you’re right. But my dreams feel so real,” Rosie whispered, lying back down. Ready to drift off into a deep sleep. One not tainted by the memory of Parker. “Go, back to sleep baby.” Henry said, he knew they would be getting up in a few hours anyway. Tomorrow was a very big day. Henry knew he and Rosie had been drifting but he was all set to give her the best birthday ever.

Henry had bought tickets for you and Tom to fly in for her birthday and stay for awhile. This time of year was hard for all of you but it wasn’t fair to Rosie. The day that is supposed to be about her has always been shared but now no one dared acknowledge it. It was just a reminder of what had been lost.

“Good morning, beautiful. Happy birthday,” Henry whispered, peppering her face in kisses as the morning sun shone through the curtains.

“Thank you,” Rosie sighed. Every year was a challenge. It got a little better every year but she knew she would never fully accept his absence.

“What do you have planned today?” Henry inquired, he was always one for big gestures. He absolutely hated that she no longer enjoyed her birthday.

As a kid she loved the idea of turning a year older, getting to grow up and getting loads of presents of course. You always made the priority of throwing the most perfect themed parties for Rosie and Parker. One year they had a pirate themed pool party with a treasure hunt and another a circus/carnival theme with fair games and a petting zoo. You loved going all out for their birthday. Just spoiling them in general.

Rosie and Parker, also Tom, can’t forget about him, made life worth living. You and Tom did everything for your kids, never wanting them to feel an ounce of sadness.

But the times had changed, you were no longer the mother to a son. It was just Rosie and you thanked God everyday that she was still there but your heart will forever be scarred.

Scars take forever to heal, sometimes never. There will never be a day when you don’t miss Parker or he doesn’t cross your mind. Everything you did from the moment he died was for him, in one way or another. You knew the grief would never stop but you hoped Rosie would one day be able to move on with life.

“You know…” Rosie murmured. “Oh yeah, say hi for me,” Henry nodded along remembering Rosie was going to spend the day next to her better half, Parker.

Rosie proceeded to get dressed and ready for the day. She wore a tight grey dress showing off the perfect curves of her body. And a pair of black high heels to complete her power woman ensemble. “Henry, you aren’t throwing me a party right? I really don’t want one,” Rosie inquired. Rosie would prefer to have all birthdays pass and wash away but she knew Henry wouldn’t allow that. At the most she would have a nice dinner with him and watch a movie.

“You’ll just wait to find out,” Henry grinned cheekily. In reality he was throwing her surprise party to help her find the joy in her birthday again.

“Henry seriously, not this year,” Rosie announced. “It’s never any year. You haven’t celebrated in 3 years. You need to get over this.”

“Get over what? The death of my twin brother?” Rosie asked, astounded at Henry’s previous statement. The nerve he had, wow.

“Roo, I’m sorry,” Henry tried to apologize but Rosie left in a huff.

“Talk later, Linus is waiting for me,” Rosie yelled, already walking out of the room. “Linus, you ready to go?” Rosie said, as she found him drinking coffee in her kitchen. He sat at the bar, legs dangling off the chair as she came down. “Yes, Roo,” he said, a little out of breath from taking the awe of her beauty.

“Please don’t call me that around Henry… What’s on the agenda?” Rosie asked Linus as she poured herself her own cup of coffee.

“Well, Shaw owes you 3 million and the deadline you gave him expired,” Linus explained, he knew Rosie hated having things held over her head. She would prefer to get them out of the way as soon as possible.

“Well then, let’s go pay him a visit. I could use a drink. Afterwards, can you drop me off at the cemetery?” “Of course, Roo,” Linus said. Rosie huffed in response, rolling her eyes at the name. Linus loved to get a rise out of Rosie. Her remarks to his comments were just a sign of their playful banter.Rosie’s relationship with Linus was complicated. They were partners, most of the time.

Rosie had gone really dark over the past years. There were days where she refused to get out of bed. Sitting in bed wasting the entire day away. Henry would come home from work and try his best to comfort her but after Parker he was just as lost as her. They lived in the same house but not truly together. Not as lovers, maybe as roommates.

All Rosie could feel were thoughts of hopelessness, desolation, and misery. Never being able to find that light at the end of the tunnel. She didn’t deserve to find it, thinking she was the one who pushed you and Tom away. Blaming herself for Parker. All these feelings and Henry wasn’t there, too busy with his own life.

One day, Rosie had gotten real low. Couldn’t find a way out so she went to the gun room grabbed the closest pistol, a bottle of scotch, a glass and sat in Tom’s office. She rested on Tom’s chair trying to find the will to end it all. To point the pistol and pull the trigger.

It would be so easy, the flick of a finger. No more pain. She tried not to think about everything she was giving up. Never seeing you or Tom again, or Henry. Never loving him again, if they ever did manage to find their way back to each others arms. Never experiencing the things that made life worth living.

All her thoughts were halted as Linus barged in. He stopped dead in his tracks as he saw the broken girl hold a gun unto her temple, its safety clicked off. The room was cold as an icy chill ran down his spine.

“Rosie, what are you doing!?!” Linus thundered, trying to stop her before she pulled the trigger. “I don’t know. I think I’m trying to end it all,” Rosie whispered as tears streamed down her face. Deep down she didn’t want to pull the trigger, she wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

“End what all? Your life?” Linus asked, trying to talk her off the metaphorical ledge. Something had to happen that pushed her to this point. Rosie had to be drowning and calling out for help but no one came. “No, it was never about killing myself. It was just about ending the pain and suffering,” she cried.

“Rosie, listen to me. There is so much more you have to live for. This will pass. Think about everything you are giving up.” Linus tried to appeal to the people she loved, you, Tom, and Henry. Losing Rosie would no longer make you a mother. How could Rosie take that away from you?

“I already have and it hasn’t, for 2 years. How do you know it will get any better?” Rosie begged for a true answer. She had been slumping around, letting the days pass her by as she stood silent, screaming non-vocally for help. Trapped in an asylum of misery. “I don’t. But I’ll be there to help you,” Linus exclaimed, giving her the truthful response she wanted. Rosie just needed to hear that she wasn’t alone in this world anymore. “No, you won’t. You’ll just leave like everyone else. Henry doesn’t love me anymore. My parents left. I’m all alone.” “Roo, you aren’t alone. Just hand me the gun and we can work this out. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always be here,” Linus pleaded. That was the first time he had used that nickname. The name had been reserved for only Henry, Parker and you. In that moment Rosie saw someone she missed so dearly in Linus, Parker. Parker was the only person who was 100% there for her. He was there to talk her off the ledge. He was there at her weakest and in a split second he was standing in front of her.

Rosie gave in, removing the gun from her temple, clicking the safety one and handing it over. She slowly stood up, coming over to Linus and collapsed in his arms. Rosie whispered a small “I missed you” as he held the broken girl. He was the only one who could pull her out. Not Henry, god she wished it was Henry. Linus understood her pain and didn’t try to fix everything.

Henry was the opposite. Constantly worrying about Rosie and trying to find a solution for everything. Things from the slightest backache to feelings of hopelessness. Rosie didn’t need fixing she just needed to be heard and Linus made sure she was. At Harmon’s, the bar was quite empty. Just Shaw and a few of his men. Shaw has borrowed money from Rosie to clear of a few charges. The Holland name had some pull in the legal community. Dating back to Dom’s days but Tom mostly laid down roots.

Linus entered first, firing two shots to take out Shaw’s capos. “Jesus Christ,” yelled Shaw as his protection thudded against the floor.

Rosie followed Linus in, making her presence known, “Shaw, you know I’m not a fan of people not staying true to their word. Do you have my money?”

“Rosie, doll. I paid you in full already. If this just your sad attempt to stir something up we can work this out another time. Shoo, let me finish my drink,” Shaw snickered. “Shaw, I know your games. You have 3 minutes to transfer my money right now. One for each million. I have Linus checking for a deposit of 3 million, make this simple and do it,” Rosie stated with an unchanging expression. “I need more time, that’s not enough. It’s all in separate accounts,” Shaw asserted, his voice starting to waver as he stared down the barrel of her pistol. “Well then, I’d hurry if I were you. Here’s your phone. Just wire the money… Starting now,” Rosie exclaimed as Linus devoted his stare to watch. Glancing at the seconds tick away.

“Fine, I’m going,” Shaw screamed, about to crack under the pressure.

“2 minutes left,” Linus chimed in. “Okay, I’m just inputing the dollar amount, it’s a lot of zeros.” Shaw tried to explain. He was about to lose his life because he was slow.

“50 secs.”

“I’m going, I’m going.”

“10, 9, 8, 7, 6—“

“I’m done,” Shaw said, letting out the breath he was holding.

“That was fast but not fast enough,” Rosie whispered raising her gun square to the back of his head. Her finger slipped to the trigger and fired a shot.

BANG

“Wow, I didn’t think you actually kill him,” Linus said, impressed by her ruthlessness.

“He was getting on my nerves, besides he will never borrow money from me again if he is dead,” Rosie chuckled. “You know I found that really hot,” Linus whispered in her ear. “You always do.” Rosie grinned at his advances, trying to pull her close to his chest. “Hey, this can’t keep happening.”

“Oh, come on. You say that every time. I can’t hide my feelings for you anymore.”

“Well, you are going to have to. I was clear about what this was. So I’m going to ask you this once more time, what do you want?” “I want you.” “Well you can have me in the bathroom in 2 minutes.” “Roo, you’re too good to me,” Linus smirked, following her as she glided to the restroom.

Everything lasted about 30 mins. They were in and out in a flash. The bar now smelled of sex and a dead bodies. Linus was the first to finish, coming out of the bathroom looking disheveled as hell. Sporting the same juts had a quickie look. Linus went to pull the car around after fixing his hair in the mirror.

Linus would never be Henry and that was a good thing, Linus was different. By no circumstances was Rosie in love with Linus or will ever be in love with him, he was merely a distraction. Rosie knew her relationship with him was wrong but he made her feel alive once more.

Rosie emerged from bathroom breathing heavy, almost gasping for air, with sweat glistening on her chest. She straightened out her dress as combed down her hair. Stepping out of the doorway, the smell of a fresh rotting body hit her.

Rosie immediately turned around and lunged for the toilet. She had been in the business for 3 years and never before had her body reacted this way. She hurled into the toilet for a good ten minutes. Eventually bringing her head out of the toilet bowl to wipe off her mouth. The air was now coupled with sex, dead bodies and vomit. She was clueless to what forced her to keep her head in a toilet bowl.

After her nausea spell passed her, she had Linus drop her off near the cemetery. “Oh, you can drop me off here. I need something from the pharmacy anyways,”Rosie informed Linus. She was planning on picking up something for her stomach, it was very unlikely for her to throw up suddenly.

“Ok, Roo. Do you need a ride home?” Linus questioned.

“No, Jared is supposed to pick me up. Thank you,” Rosie exclaimed, getting out of the car. “Alright. Happy birthday by the way. Can I have a kiss goodbye?” “Thank you and no. I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah for the party,” Linus called out slowly driving away. “Wait! What did you say?” Rosie remarked but he was already long gone.

Rosie was mentally kicking herself, she didn’t have the willpower to deal with a party tonight. She specifically told Henry, not to throw one but since when did he listen to her.

Their road to ultimately heartbreak was a two way street. Both of them had done something to warrant the loveless relationship. Rosie admitted to herself, that she eventually did stop trying. She stopped constantly asking if Henry wanted to go out for dinner and what time he would be home. Rosie prefers to blame Henry but in reality, she was then one who let go first.

Rosie stopped showing him love, too distraught by his every move because it was a constant reminder her brother wasn’t there anymore. Henry would try to work him into every little conversation, remembering Parker in everything. It grew too much for Rosie. Rosie had never been one for confronting her feelings, preferring to shove them down but how could she, when Henry would never shut up about Parker.

Parker was the main reason a wedge had been driven between them, but she wouldn’t dream of blaming her dead brother. Who couldn’t even defend himself. Rosie needed a reset after Parker but Henry was stuck living in the past.

Rosie was ready to start her life with Henry after graduation but he couldn’t let go. After a while, Rosie became just like him. Stuck drifting into a void of pure sadness. Rosie couldn’t let go, along with Henry. Their lives went in different directions, Rosie was blossoming into a ruthless leader who would only act soft around Parker, vowing to visit his grave everyday. And Henry got left behind at some point, not seeing how he fit in her life anymore.

In the pharmacy she scanned the aisles for some sort of quick remedy. If Henry was throwing her a surprise party, one she specifically asked not for. Rosie didn’t have days to recuperate, maybe a few hours.

She found the largest bottle of Pepto-Bismol and stopped by the card aisle. Carefully grasping a birthday card for her favorite person. One that was funny yet endearing. Parker was addicted to all the corned jokes she would crack. She made her way to the register. In front of her stood a little old woman, she wore a purple floral dress and her white stained hair was pulled into a clip.

“Just this for you sweetie? Oh, who’s birthday is it?” Asked the little lady, referring to the birthday card Rosie grabbed for Parker.

“My brother’s and um, could I also get this,” Rosie responded as her eyes glanced below her. Skimming over the candy bars, gum packets and eventually landing on a pregnancy test. Come to think of it, Rosie was late about a week and a half.

“Of course, honey. Would you like to use the restroom?” Queried the lady. Rosie nodded in response. She finished paying and quickly made her way to the restroom. Following the directions on the box carefully, she needed to be a hundred percent sure, before she told anyone.

Right around the corner was the cemetery. She glided through iron gates, walking across the cobble stone path before she came upon the place she loved most in the world. The place where she would hold nothing back, spilling everything to him.

Life of a mob boss was dangerous but things started to seem eerie for Rosie. She would feel weird presences or someone watching her at eerie times. The same feeling plagued her at the cemetery, today. She knelt down to the headstone, engraved in it read “Here Lies Parker Jackson Holland, Taken from us too soon, a son, a brother, and a friend.”

“Hey, P. You probably get tired of me visiting you. Everyday I’m here and sometimes I think I do it for my benefit more than yours. I hope that wherever you are, you are happy and most likely you are with Charlotte. I’m happy for you, Parker. No matter how much I wish you were here with me, I know that you are happy that you escaped this life. Happy 20th birthday.” Rosie whispered, fixing the flowers that began to wilt from yesterday.

“I have some really amazing news to share with you, but it will have to wait till next time. You can’t be the first person I tell, I’m sorry. He deserves to know before you…. Oh my god, you’ll never believe what happened at work…”

This is the one thing that brought Rosie solace. She persistently blames herself for that fateful night 3 years ago. Rosie would spend hours kneeling next to his headstone. She would tell him about her life and read off the postcards you and Tom sent from your travels. Talking to him as if he was still there.

Rosie glanced at her watch, it was half past five and she hadn’t even called Jared yet to pick her up. “I’m sorry P, I gotta go. Henry, god love him but, that bastard is throwing me a birthday party. I guess I should at least make an appearance. I’ll see you tomorrow, I love you.” Rosie said, walking towards the parking lot.

She stood under the gate for ten minutes waiting for Jared to arrive and escort her home. The weather completely shifted as the sun set around her. The once blue sky changed to one painted with vibrant yellows and pinks. The sky was a sight not to be missed but she could do without the freezing winds that accompanied.

A chill ran down her spine as she waited in the darkness. Feeling a sensation that only warranted panic. Rosie felt someone watching her once again. Maybe from a far or up close, but she definitely wasn’t alone. It was silly that she let feelings like those get to her. She was a mob boss for god sakes, scaring even the most menacing of men into submission.

Rosie eyes started darting everywhere a noise left. In the corner of her eye she caught a figure drenched in shadows approaching. She tried to scramble for her gun, but soon realized she left it in Linus’s car.

The stranger kept making advances and managed to get to her. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed a cloth to her mouth. Causing her to be consumed in darkness as her body grew limp.

Back at the manor, Henry was setting everything up perfectly. His mission was to make Rosie love her birthday once more. While Henry was working hard at hanging the birthday banner and decorating every corner with balloons, Linus was no help at all. Lounging on the couch and finishing a beer.

“So are you going to pick up Rosie and get off your ass?” Henry barked, pulling the coffee out from under Linus, causing him to spill his beer.

“Seriously, dude. What’s your problem?” Linus snapped.

“My problem is my girlfriend isn’t here. Aren’t you supposed to pick her up?” “No, Jared is.” “Linus, Jared is here. He has been for a few hours. Where is she?” Henry questioned, starting to worry. “I don’t know. Last, I left her at the cemetery.” “Henry! It’s so good to see you,” you cheered as Tom and you walked in. Hugging Henry after not seeing him for awhile. It still pained you to visit, traveling was the perfect distraction.

“Hope you have been taking care of yourself, son. Where’s Rosie?” Tom questioned. “Yeah, I’ve been good. At the moment, I don’t know where she is. She’s missing,” Henry concluded. You and Tom stood completely still as you processed the news. It wasn’t everyday that your daughter would disappear into thin air, but her job did keep her life in danger.Rosie missing was uncommon. It had happened once or twice in the past but that was 3 years ago. So much had changed, for the better. Yet, you were once again in the same place, in the house you left because everything was too familiar. Rosie missing was all too familiar.

Rosie came to. Opening her eyes to a place she chose to forget. For all she knew it was an exact replica. Warehouses riddled all of London’s ports, she could be anywhere.

“Text your driver and tell him Henry picked you up for a special birthday dinner,” Rosie’s kidnapper barked, thrusting a phone in front of her.

“Really? You kidnapped me? After 3 years of being leader of London’s most feared mob, it’s like been there done that. Do you want money or something? I have a party to get to.” Rosie quipped, annoyed with they man’s pursuits.

“Oh, I know. I believe happy birthday is granted. 20 years is a milestone.”

“Whatever, I don’t really like my birthday anyway.”

“Wanna talk about it?” The stranger pestered on. Rosie had learned lesson from the last time she was restrained to chair, rope around her wrists and ankles, ceasing blood flow. This time it was zip ties, a little basic for any mobster she has had a run with.

“No. I want you to let me go. Seriously, what do you want? I don’t think you know who I am. Or who my father is,” Rosie asserted.

“A moment alone together is all I ask and I know exactly who you are and who your dad is. Correction, who our dad is.”

“Parker.”

A/n: Finally the end. Alright, I'm going to bed. There is no set schedule for the sequel series, I'm just going to post a chapter when I finish writing it. Let me know if you like to be tagged in the sequel chapters.

Guns, Glamour and Goodfellas Masterlist

Taglist: @thenoddingbunny-blog @adriannauni @dummiesshort @bi-lmg @allthisfortommy @quaksonhehe @housepartyprotocol

#tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland series #tom holland fanfic #tom holland mob au #tom holland au #tom holland x reader #tom #mob!tom #mob tom #mob!tom holland #mob!tom holland x reader #mob!tom x mob!reader #tom holland fan fiction smut #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #tom holland masterlist #mob!tom x reader #dad!mob!tom holland

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harryhandstan · 4 years ago

Text

washed away in you

I don’t have much to say except I appreciate your patience with me as I worked on this piece! I apologize again for all the confusion with posting and deleting and now reposting. This is the third part to my Dad!Harry series. Once again you don’t have to read those to understand this one, but I’ve linked them below in case you would like to revisit them. :)

Thank you to @taintedwonder for reading over part of this for me!

word count: 4.2k

needles tw // (small mention towards the end)

I Want Your Belly (part one) | Wonderful and Warm (part two) | writing tag | masterlist

y’all have already been so good to me but as always likes, rbs, and comments are welcome!!

Of all the weeks to be put on bed rest, it had to be the week that Harry started filming for his new movie role.

Technically you were on modified bed rest, which meant resting as much as possible but still moving around as necessary, but the phrase terrified Harry enough that he was doing whatever he could to keep you still. It hadn’t been an easy task, you were in your 8th month of pregnancy, quickly approaching your due date, and there still seemed to be a mountain of important things to get done before your son’s arrival.

It had only been two days since you’d started having what you thought were contractions. It had forced you and Harry to realize just how unprepared the two of you were when you had to rush out of the house at 2 a.m. with nothing packed for what could possibly be the night of your child’s appearance into the world. Just the two of you with disheveled hair and rumpled pajamas under the harsh lighting of the ER exam room. 8 hours of tests and scans and a visit from your doctor later, you returned home to fall back in bed and catch up on the sleep you had missed.

“Listen you’re both new to all this..I get it. But you’re putting too much stress on your body and that’s what caused this tonight. I know it’s hard but, take a week, relax, bed rest as much as possible. I’ll see you in my office again in a few days just to make sure everything is progressing along like we want. If there’s still too much stress on the baby, we may have to push your due date up a little earlier. But we don’t want to do that if we can avoid it.”

Currently you were in the nursery, where most of the last minute things to do remained. You were standing at the changing table, folding a set of onesies to be put away. Harry had been urging you for the past 10 minutes to sit down.

“Harry, I have been in bed all night, or as much of it as your son allowed me to be without kicking me in the ribs or pressing on my bladder. I just wanna get these folded and put away and I’ll be done.”

“Well you can at least sit while y’doing them. Or, let me finish ‘em.” His hands fall on your shoulders, gently guiding you towards the rocking chair in the corner. You gesture for him to bring the basket closer, “And why is he only my son when he’s causing you trouble?”

“Maybe cause it was your birthday treat that got us into this mess. Or because he already likes to tease us so much. Besides, you can’t do them, I have a system.”

“Yeah, a birthday treat planned by you. And I know the system, you showed me two days ago.”

“You knew the system, we changed it.”

“We? I’ve barely been home how’ve we..”

“I may have called your Mum again.” You shrug, propping your feet up on the small ottoman positioned in front of the chair, “She and I agreed it’s better this way.”

“You didn’t think it was important to notify me of this system you and y’new bestie have thought up?” He’s turned to lean his back against the changing table, arms folded across his chest. As much as he wants to be upset, he’s over the moon that you and Anne have become so much closer over the past few months. Between his mom and yours, plus your sister and his, he was thrilled to see you had so much support for days when he couldn’t be there. Anne had offered to fly out to spend the week with you, as did your mom, but you put them both off, promising you would need them more the few weeks after the birth.

“Been a little busy growing a human here, Harry. May have slipped my mind. I would’ve gotten around to it eventually.”

“Right, you can just tell me where everything goes then.” He’s already worked his way through folding the last of the pile, smiling proudly at you as you lean your head back and close your eyes, sinking further into the chair.

“Socks in the second drawer to the left, hats in the middle. If the onesies are newborn sized, they go to the right. Anything bigger than that gets tucked in the baskets by size there in the middle shelf of the closet, if you can find room.”

Between the two of your families and your group of mutual friends, you’d been given 4 baby showers over the past few months, combining with the items you and Harry had supplied for yourselves. People had been more than generous in helping stock the nursery for your little one.

“All done. How ‘bout some breakfast now?”

“You don’t have time. You have to be on set in less than an hour. I’ll make myself something in a bit. I may go back to sleep for a while, just got up to see you off and wanted to put those things away.”

“Always have time for you, angel,” He offers his hand to help you lift yourself up, “Maybe a smoothie?”

“Alright, if I let you make me a smoothie, will you take yours to go? Don’t want you to be late because of me.”

“Deal. But only if you let me tuck you back into bed before I go.”

“Deal.” You lean up slightly to accept the sweet kiss he offers before shuffling off to the kitchen together.

“Harry?”

“Hmm?”

“I’ve decided. You’re not allowed to look.”

You knew he wasn’t listening, trying to maybe, but not really. He sits across the room at the desk in the corner of your bedroom, glasses perched on the end of his nose, guitar in his lap, journal open in front of him. He’s in writing mode, something that usually takes you at least 30 minutes to coax him from and convince him to come to bed. Not that you ever wanted to interrupt his process, but tonight you’re feeling anxious about your impending delivery, dread slowing working its way through your body.

It had been only a few days since your follow up appointment with your doctor. She had deemed you fit to come off bed rest, but urged you to continue to try to keep your stress level to a minimum as much as possible. Easier said than done, but you were finding small ways to relax yourself when you could; meditation, music, reading. But tonight you just wanted Harry for reassurance.

In your nightly scroll through one of your recent favorite mom-to-be blogs, you had come across an article on the difficulty of delivery. You appreciated moms who were brave enough to share their stories online and this person in particular had included a video. Despite your anxiety, you clicked to watch, curiosity overriding any fear rising in your chest.

When he finally puts away the guitar and the journal and sheds his soft purple robe to swim up the bed to settle next to you, he asks, “Were y’sayin’ something earlier, m’love? Got lost there for a bit, m’sorry.”

His writing sessions were normally done in his office or the studio, but the past few weeks he’d preferred to do them here. Liked the idea of you trying to softly hum along to a new tune he was working through, occasionally offering your opinions about what you liked or didn’t. It was rare that you disliked anything, but he liked that you didn’t shy away from being honest with him. His favorite though? The sight of you, an open book, hand always resting on the side of your belly while you read. It was just as much a comfort for him to be near you these days as it was for you.

“Yeah. I’ve decided. You’re not allowed to look when I deliver this baby.”

His head rests on your thigh, only the side of his face visible as he looks up at you, but it’s enough to see the disappointment flash before he composes himself, not wanting to upset you.

“Alright. What d’you mean by that? Like..you don’t want me in the room or..”

“No, no, I want you in the room, that was never a question. You’re just not allowed to look when I’m pushing. I watched a video and I’m traumatized and I just..”

He sits up quickly, “You watched a birthing video? Without me?”

“Yeah, earlier when you were zoned out. You’ve never seen one?”

“Never been curious enough to watch one ‘til now. Not ‘til I thought of you having our babe. Show me the one you watched?”

You’re hesitant. Truly you’re touched he’s so curious and wants to share this experience with you, but right now the thought of him seeing your body change like that is scary. He senses your unease, almost reads your mind; he knows you so well.

“Babe, s’your body. If you really don’t want me t’look, then I won’t. Just..at least show me what you watched so I can see for myself what it’s like, what you’ll go through. S’all m’askin’ for now.”

“Okay, fine,” You pat the bed next to you and he scurries up to sit, his head on your shoulder while you navigate through your browser history to find the video. You start it, but your eyes stay focused on his face.

“Y’not gonna watch it again with me?”

“No,” You drape your arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer so you can rest your head on top of his, “I’d rather watch your reactions this time around.”

You’re curious to see how he reacts to certain parts; his little gasps and winces as the video progresses. When it ends, you’re not surprised to see tears have fallen down his face and made a small wet spot on the front of his t-shirt.

“Harry, you’re not upset with me, are you?”

“‘Course not, meant what I said earlier. If you really don’t want me t’look, then I won’t..but I don’t want you to think I’ll look at you any differently after. You’re givin’ me one of the greatest gifts anyone ever has, if anything I love you more than I ever thought I could. And that’s only gonna grow once our boy’s here.”

You run your hands through his hair, not sure what to say. You’ve never had a love this big, one that envelops you so fully. The past few months have shown you just how deeply he cares for you, and just how much your own heart could stretch to fill with your overwhelming love for Harry and now the baby growing inside you.

He doesn’t take offense to your silence, just stills your hand and brings it to his lips, kissing each of your fingertips. He slumps further down the bed, head level with your stomach. He pokes it softly through your shirt. He doesn’t even have to ask anymore, you know what he wants and you’re glad to give in to him. You scoot down to rest your head on your pillow, pulling your shirt up and tucking the fabric under your breasts.

Instantly his head rests on your tummy, a hand reaching around to lay there on the other side of it, wrapping himself around you. You reach over and turn the lamp on your bedside table off, sleep drifting it’s way through your body and mind. You let one hand fall to his back, the other one joining his arm to wrap protectively around your belly.

“Harry?”

“Hmm?”

“You can look. If you want.”

“Y’don’t have to decide tonight. We still have a little time to plan.”

“No. I don’t want to take any of this experience from you. The whole thing’s just a bit scary though.”

“I know it is, m’terrified too. But everything’s gonna be alright. I’m gonna be there for every second of it.”

“I know you are. You’re the only thing that’s kept me sane through all this. You’ve been so good to me, H. Putting up with all my mood swings and late night cravings and whatever I needed.”

“I haven’t had to ‘put up’ with anything. Just want to make you and bub as happy as y’both already make me.” He turns to kiss the side of your stomach before looking up at you, “Comfy? Am I squishin’ you?”

“No, it’s nice. Don’t see how you can be comfy though.”

“I’ll move to my pillow in a bit. Just like being close to you and bub,” He yawns, “Goodnight, babe. Love you both so much.”

“We love you too, Harry. More than you’ll ever know.”

Sleep had been pretty much non-existent in your third trimester. You were lucky if you got a few hours each night and cat naps throughout the day were rare.

Tonight is no different. It’s 3 a.m and once you get up for your fifth trip to the bathroom, you know there’s no point in trying to get comfortable again. Harry will be up soon, and as much as he tries to stay quiet during his morning routine, he always found some way to unintentionally wake you. You couldn’t even sleep through his soft kisses to your forehead to say goodbye anymore.

Normally you take yourself down to the living room to find a mindless tv show or movie to carry you through your insomnia, but Harry also seemed to be infected with your curse of being a light sleeper these days. Most nights he would attempt to join you, sweet enough to not want you to be alone, stubborn enough to not listen each time you urged him to go back to bed. He always paid for it the day after though, dark circles under his eyes and nodding off to sleep throughout whatever he had scheduled.

So in hopes that you wouldn’t wake him by leaving tonight, you reach for the remote to the bedroom tv, muting it so the noise won’t disturb him. You would almost be content enough to stare at him for the rest of the night. The sharp outline of his jaw, freckles scattered across his face that would rival the constellations in the sky, all softened by the moonlight illuminating his face perfectly. As much as you don’t want to wake him, you can’t help but reach out to run the back of your hand over the smooth skin of the man you admire so much. You adore the way even in his sleep he molds to your touch, soft snores and deep, even breaths never stopping as you move up to brush his curls away from his face.

You almost make it through 20 minutes of a movie before his eyes flutter open. You know how much your false contractions from before weighed on him, alarm is quick to flood his face before he has a chance to take in his surroundings.

You answer before he has a chance to let worry take over, “It’s alright. We’re okay. Just the usual..couldn’t sleep.”

He rubs his eyes to clear them, “What time s’it?”

“4:30.”

He squints slightly at the movie playing before chuckling, “How many times y’think you’ve watched this one? Know it’s been at least a dozen or so in the last month.”

“It’s my favorite. One of them, anyway. It’s always been soothing to me.”

“Bet you could quote the whole thing by now, even with it muted.”

You glance up at the tv and it only takes a second for you to pinpoint the exact part. You take his comment as a challenge, pushing yourself up out of your nest of pillows to rest your back against the headboard before quoting, “Faith is a bluebird you see from afar. It’s for real, and as sure as the first evening star. You can’t touch it, or buy it, or wrap it up tight. But it’s there just the same, making things turn out right.”

Your voice breaks as you say the last few words. Maybe it’s the combination of exhaustion and all the new fears and hormones running through your mind and body. Nostalgia of watching this when you were younger and now sharing it with your child when they are old enough touches your heart and you can’t stop the tears continuously streaming down your face.

“Baby,” He pushes himself up to rest next to you, tugging you until you're pressed close to his side, “Please don’t cry.”

“M’miserable, Harry. I’m as big as the moon and I can’t breathe and my feet always hurt and I’m just..ready for him to be here. Ready for him to be out so I can hold him and kiss him and put him in his own bed so I can rest in mine again.”

You know you sound childish and whiny and somewhat ridiculous, but being so sleep deprived means all sense has left and so the words come spilling out, a jumbled mess you doubt he even understood.

“I know you are, love. Hate to see you so upset,” He kisses the top of your head, “Certainly as bright as the moon, but not as big. Your body’s as exactly as it should be. I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but that’s only cause you’re tired. He’ll be here soon and we’ll have so many people here to help, yeah?”

All you can do is nod, you know he’s right and you know once you have a nap things won’t feel so overwhelming. You pull yourself away from him to wipe your face on your t-shirt. A smile stretches across your lips as the thought enters your mind, “If I’m as bright as the moon, you’re as golden as the sun.”

“Yeah?” He’s blushing now, looking down at his hands before his eyes dart up to meet yours, “Guess that makes bub our little star, huh?”

You giggle before shrugging, “Guess so.”

“By the way,” His hand rests on your thigh, “We gonna keep calling him bub or we gonna pick a name?”

“Bub’s cute. Bub Styles.” You wrinkle your nose at the thought, “I just want it to be perfect for him, you know? I feel like I need to see his face before I just blindly pick a name. We could definitely narrow down some options though and see which one suits him best.”

“We’ll think of something special, eh? Somethin’ just f’him.”

“Yeah, we will,” You suck in a sharp intake of breath at a particularly hard kick from within your stomach. Harry’s head snaps to look over your face before looking down to where your hand lays on your belly.

“What’s wrong?” His eyes are wide, on edge as he waits for your answer.

“It’s fine he’s just..ah, being a little rowdy this morning.” You take his hand from your thigh and press it to where the kicks were landing, “Right here. Think that’s his butt, his head’s down here, and..ah, his feet are right about here. Can you feel him?”

His palm lays flat across the front of your belly, “S’amazing, never gets old. Bet it feels so..weird to you though.”

“At first, yeah, but got used to it pretty quickly. It’s comforting now, like he’s saying hello or contributing to our conversations when we talk.”

He puts his mouth almost right against your tummy, so close his breath tickles and you feel the vibrations when he speaks, “Take it easy on mumma, little one. Just a bit longer, yeah? Can’t wait to see ya face. Bet y’so handsome like daddy, just gotta be a lil’ more patient like mummy, alright?”

“Think maybe he’s ready for his pre-breakfast snack?”

“Dunno..I’ll ask him though,” He bends again, “That why y’bein’ such a brat to mum, huh? Woke her up early cause you were hungry? Alright, daddy’ll make your usual.”

He kisses your stomach, before straightening to where he’s level with your face, “That sound good?”

Your “usual” was a bowl of what had been your biggest craving throughout your pregnancy; fruit. On nights like this when sleeplessness couldn’t be defeated, the two of you normally gave in pretty quickly and had breakfast together. On days when you were able to sleep through Harry’s departure, you would always wake to the bowl already prepared and ready for you. Oftentimes there would be a quickly scribbled note with the words “Love, H” stuck to the top or the side of the bowl, like you didn’t already know who had left it for you.

“You’re spoiling him already, Harry.”

He smacks a quick kiss to your cheek, pulling back just a second before diving back in to peck another one on your other cheek, “Tryin’ to spoil you too, angel.”

Contractions, real ones you were sure this time, had started 30 minutes ago. As much as Harry wanted to rush you out of the house in your pajamas, you had insisted on at least 5 minutes to change and pull your hair into a quick ponytail before gathering your bag and dashing down the stairs.

Just as Harry’s hand lands on the doorknob, you tug on the sleeve of his jacket, “Harry, stop for a second.”

“Why? Are you having one now?”

“Kiss me.”

“What?”

“This is one of our last moments before we become parents. I want you to slow down, take a deep breath, and kiss me.”

“You’re impossible, you know that? Active labor and you stop me for a kiss.” He rolls his eyes but you can see his shoulders drop, relaxing just enough to press his lips firmly against yours. You reach your hand up and around to the back of his neck, deepening it for a moment before drawing back to scan his face.

“Better?” Your hand continues to work through his hair, happy to watch his face relax slightly at your touch.

“Much. How are you so calm?”

“I don’t know, really. I thought I would be scared, and I am but..I’m ready. So ready to meet him.”

“Me too. Let’s go.” His hand falls to the small of you back, leading you out the door and to the car.

Once you arrive at the hospital, he doesn’t leave your side, not even when the nurse suggests he do so while you get your epidural. She agrees to let him stay, but makes him sit in a chair in front of you and sternly tells him not to look.

He holds both of your hands, squeezing them tightly as an attempt to distract you. He knows how much you hate needles, how the thought of this procedure alone had scared you almost as much as the idea of labor. You release a deep sigh of relief when they announce it’s done, and he helps you settle back into bed, tucking the blanket around you.

“So proud of you, baby. You’re already doing amazing.”

Things progress much faster than you ever thought they would, and it’s only three hours before you’re ready to push. Harry’s there for every second of it, hand behind your back and small encouragements in your ear when you think you can’t go any further.

“M’tired, H.” The room is full of people, your doctor and a set of nurses, but his focus stays on you; simply existing together in that moment. Small pieces of hair have come loose from your ponytail, clinging to the sweat now covering your forehead. He sweeps them away before resting his hand on your shoulder.

“I know y’are, lovie, but you’re so so close. Doin’ so incredible,” His smile is so wide, beaming at you when he leans closer, “Y’look gorgeous too, never seen you look more stunning than now.”

That has a laugh bursting from you, still breathless when you reply, “You’re such a bad liar.”

“M’serious! Know better than to lie to you.” He winks just before working his arm around behind your back again, giving you the motivation you needed to keep going.

It’s not long before you hear what you’re certain is one of the best sounds you’ll ever hear, the sweet sound of your baby boy’s cry as he enters the world.

An hour later, both of you are still in awe of your little one, sleeping peaceful now in their dad’s strong arms. Harry’s wedged himself next to you in the hospital bed, long legs stretched in front of him. He keeps looking between where your head is propped on his shoulder and the baby.

He breaks the silence first, “Definitely think he has your hair. S’nice and soft.”

“Think it’ll be darker like yours though. Maybe he’ll have your eyes.” You reach over to run your finger along your baby’s nose.

He looks between you and the baby again, a prideful smile brightening his face. He smushes his lips against your temple, and you close your eyes as the feeling of adoration combined with the exhaustion of the day washes over you.

You hear him whisper just as you’re drifting to sleep, “My moon and star, together at last.”

#harry styles imagine #harry x reader #my writing #dad!harry #still not perfect but I like it so much more #hope you all enjoy it!

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spookyhalloweennights · 4 years ago

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Birds of a Feather (Syro: SFW)

Your first day on the job was nothing less than breathtaking. Having just graduated and finding a position in the rehabilitation field, you were over the moon when you had started. Although the manager couldn’t be more than displeased at the fact that a human was working in their facility, and a human female nonetheless so straight away they had assigned you to the most difficult patient in the facility.

The patient? A male harpy whose plumage reminded you of a raptor. His talons had clacked against the floor, the noise only stopping once every few moments as he had paused and stared out the window wistfully. A sigh that sounded more like a whistle had come from him, however as you had begun to move closer his gaze snapped to yours. Piercing yellow eyes met yours in an intense stare before he let out a screech of hatred.

“A human! They dare insult me like this?” He screamed and you had backed away hastily, tripping over the tray you had been rolling with you and falling. Landing hard on your back with the wind knocked out of you. The only saving grace you had was an elf who had heard the commotion and came rushing over to help you clean up the mess and make sure you were okay. The petite elf had turned her attention to the harpy who was making such a fuss with his feathers all ruffled up.

“Syro! It is rather impolite of you to behave so badly, she is just as good of a nurse as any one of us here. Otherwise she wouldn’t be here.” The elf, who you’d later come to know as Gweyir, scolded. The harpy had shrunk back as the lecture continued for another minute or so before she was finally done.

With a grumble, the harpy had reluctantly allowed you into his room to do your job. You had taken notice of the scrapes and bruises that he had once you had gotten closer to him. Feathers were missing and the biggest thing that you had missed before was that his right wing was broken. He didn’t talk to you, at least not at first. He’d merely stand stock still while you tended to the wounds and left him food, which continued for nearly a year after you had started.

It wasn’t that Syro wasn’t ready to go after he had fully healed, he had nowhere to go so he dragged it out for as long as possible. He attended multiple sessions with various therapists to talk about what had happened to him, you never knew the details of his case until Gweyir had told you as the pair of you were making your usual rounds.

“He was exiled from his flock, a bad hunter and they didn’t want him dragging them down so… The only logical punishment they could think of was bodily harm and forcing him to leave. Without a flock, most harpies don’t make it on their own.” She explained, the manager had given you both a quick nod as you brushed past. In the past few months they had come to warm up to the idea of having a human female around, plus you were the most dedicated worker alongside Gweyir that they had.

“That’s… Rough.” Was all you could think of to say as you processed the information. Gweyir nodded in agreement.

However, the ruffling of feathers had caught your attention and you glanced to your left. Seeing Syro all puffed up and a low squawk of sorts came from him at the mention of what had happened. You awkwardly waved Gweyir goodbye as she wished you luck. Putting on your best smile, you walked inside as Syro merely eyed you and turned away with a huff.

“Bad day?” You asked the harpy, he would occasionally humor you with short answers in response to your questions.

“That elf has no idea what happened.” He grumbled in response. “It wasn’t exactly like that. It was… Way different than what they had thought it was.”

You set to work, he was a lot more compliant in letting you do your job than he was when you had first met him. You kept the surprise that rose up in you at the idea of him telling you what had happened under check as you didn’t want to discourage him from talking.

“My flock was… Ruthless. Took whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted. There wasn’t anything they wouldn’t slaughter if it got in their way. And considering that our species isn’t… Too common, it wasn’t a surprise when my flock had climbed its way to the top of being the most feared.” He began to pace back and forth again, the talons clicking against the floor in an ominous manner. “I was not like them. I couldn’t take or kill just for the thrill of it. And when it came time for the ‘coming of age’ ceremony… I failed, and that resulted in me being harmed the way I was. And then those humans... It was worse before you had come here. I was exiled. I’m not allowed to go to any other flock or that puts them in danger. I’m… Stuck in a way.” His voice had grown softer as a forlorn look overcame his features.

You had listened intently to him, the story tugging at your heart in a way that was unexpected. “Syro…” Your mouth had run dry and you found yourself unable to say anything to him.

“You needn’t say anything to me. I realize now that not all humans are bad. You being amongst the few who are genuinely good.” He complimented, though he pointedly kept his gaze away from you as you stared up at him.

You weren’t quite sure what to say in response to the compliment, mumbling out a quick thanks and hurrying out of the room once you had finished your duties. You walked back into the nurse’s station and sank into a chair, your face the color of a cherry. Gweyir had come in not too long after you and had mistaken the blush on your face for you crying and anger seemed to run through the elf.

“Was he mean to you? Did he hurt you? I swear I’ll pluck him like a chicken if…” You interrupted her before she could continue on any further.

“Nothing like that Gweyir. He complimented me.” The shock on her face mimicked your own. “I know, he told me that I was one of the few good humans, and… He opened up more about his past.” You finished, Gweyir slumping in the seat next to you.

“Geez, I didn’t expect that.” She murmured before glancing at you. “He only has two weeks left here before they force him to leave. I overheard the manager talking to one of the higher ups.”

“Oh.” Was all that came as the news came as a second surprise to you today. “I have to go, I have to at least warn him.” You said as you slid the half eaten bag of chips over to Gweyir before getting up and heading out the break room doors.

Syro had taken the news exactly as you had expected him to, with a lot of anger and feather ruffling as he paced the room. Stretching his wings in annoyance before his gaze settled on you again, any amount of trust he had put into you earlier was gone with this new information.

“Get out.” He hissed at you, and you merely blinked in response. The statement took a moment to fully process but by that time, he was in your face.

“Get out!” He screeched, stretching out his wings and looking more intimidating than you had ever seen him. You scrambled out of the room and narrowly avoided the metal tray being thrown at your head by said harpy.

It was after that incident that your manager had decided to transfer you to another patient. They had declared that you had finished your duties with Syro, but you knew that wasn’t the case. Nevertheless you didn’t have the energy to argue with your manager, and while your new patient was lovely and a breath of fresh air. You missed Syro. The mermaid you had been assigned to was oftentimes a bit too chatty for your taste.

You had only briefly seen the harpy once or twice after the incident, each time you had turned before his gaze could find yours. The new nurse that was taking care of him seemed to be doing better than what you had been anyway. A bitter taste seemed to rise in the back of your throat when you had caught the pair enjoying a conversation together, a smile was present on his features.

What did it matter anyway? You were no longer assigned to him. You should just go back to your job, at least that’s what you told yourself until you found yourself cornered by the large harpy. His hands placed on either side of your head as he stared down at you with a frown on his features.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” He stated, and you couldn’t help the laugh that erupted from you. It confused Syro more than anything in the world, just enough that you could slip away.

“I’ve been assigned to another patient Syro. It’s my job… Besides, they figured your new nurse would suit your needs better anyway.” You stated calmly as you made your way down the hallway, the clicking of his talons on the tiled floor gave way to him following you.

“I preferred you as my nurse. And I had tried to tell that manager otherwise but they weren’t hearing it.” He huffed in annoyance. You paused, the familiar feeling of shock spreading through you before you merely shook your head.

“You smile a lot more around that nurse, and you’ve become well enough to come out of your room now and join the others in the mess hall rather than taking your meals in your room. I’d say she’s doing her job right.” You hummed thoughtfully, heading to the small cubicle where the cabinets were. You placed the tray and other equipment back in their right places.

“I miss you.” He said simply. “And I wanted to apologize for how I reacted, it was wrong of me to take it out on you like I did. I know I can’t go back but… I want you to know that much.” Syro shifted as though he was uncomfortable admitting he was wrong. “The other nurse helped me realize that.”

“It’s alright Syro, I know stuff like that can be shocking. The important thing is that you realized it.” You responded, turning to face the massive creature in front of you.

A relieved smile spread across his face at the apology acceptance. He sighed softly before glancing around to see if any others were near you. “Can I visit you? Once I’m out of here I mean…”

“Of course you can!” You responded eagerly. “You can come by here or I’ll show you where my house is if you wait once you’re out of here.”

He merely nodded in acknowledgement before the pair of you heard the other nurse calling his name, a grimace came across his features before he looked down at you one more time. It seemed as though he was debating something in his mind before he finally leaned down and nuzzled against you with a quiet chirp of appreciation. The action left you stunned, but before you could say anything else to him, he had turned and walked down the hallway.

In the following week, you had made an effort to stop by Syro’s room more than usual, each time you were greeted with him nuzzling against you before he listened to you chat about your day. Only occasionally chiming in with a thought, other times you’d listen to him talk about what his life was like before he had come here. It was dark, more so than what anyone had actually expected of the creature. When the day came that he had to leave, he had asked to leave at the same time you had got off your shift.

“Are you ready?” You asked Syro as you adjusted the strap on your bag that you took to work with you every day. The harpy hummed in thought before merely nodding in response to the question.

“Let’s get this over with.” His voice was rough, to others it may have sounded like he was excited to be leaving but you knew underneath that he was terrified.

The walk to your home was silent, save for the occasional comment that you made to keep his nerves down. It wasn’t until you had arrived at your front door steps that you could see the genuine fear in Syro’s eyes. He really did have nowhere to go, and in the moment you had made a rash decision.

“Why don’t you stay here with me for a while? At least until you get on your feet.” You offered, and it seemed as though the idea shocked Syro. It took him a moment to respond to the proposal.

“I won’t get in your way. I appreciate you doing this for me.” He said as he walked up the steps right as you opened the door, you stepped aside to let him in first.

“I’ll have to get the guest room set up properly for you but otherwise you can help yourself to anything in here.” You said.

“Thank you.” Came the response as he looked around your house. “Your home is lovely.”

Two years had passed since that day, and you really couldn’t imagine your life any other way. Your relationship with Syro had developed into something more as time had progressed and you showed him the basics to surviving on his own. Except he never left, and you never had a complaint about it. In fact you had begun to look forward to going home after a long day at the rehabilitation center, knowing that your harpy would no doubt have prepared something for you to eat or a relaxing bath.

After a particularly stressful day with a new patient, you had dragged yourself up the front steps and into your home. The clicking of Syro’s talons on the floorboards brought a smile to your face, you kicked your shoes off and plopped down on the couch. Golden eyes came into sight as Syro had kneeled down in front of you with a faint smile.

“Rough day?” He asked and you merely nodded in response to the question, sighing as he chuckled in response.

“The new patient is a lot worse than anything I’ve ever dealt with. I don’t know if I can handle this one, they’re just… unreceptive to everything we’ve tried so far.” You vented while Syro had listened to you intently.

“Give them time, they’ll come around. I know that you can do it, you dealt with me.” He responded with a faint smile. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Get some rest, I’ll take care of dinner.”

When you had come home a few weeks later with a grin on your face, Syro knew that you had gotten the patient to finally open up and he couldn’t be more proud of you than what he was in that moment.

#exophilia #monster lover #monster #monster x reader #male harpy #female reader #male harpy x reader #harpy x reader #Spooky'sWriting #sfw #spookyhalloweennights

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stickyhoney · 4 years ago

Text

Serene

Title: Serene

Summary: Sy has been training on base for the past week for an upcoming mission, his body being pushed to its limits everyday. You see your husband in pain, so you do what you can to help him relax.

Word Count: 2.3k

Pairing: Syverson x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Smut, cock-warming, Adult Language

“Hey honey.” You tried to sound cheery as possible, knowing that Sy had been feeling overwhelmed for a while now. Hearing you happy in the past, has always cheered him up. “Hi sweetness. Did you need something?” His tone was curious, since you rarely called him at work. “Just wanted to call you and tell you how much I love you, and I can’t wait for you to come home.” A long sigh comes through the phone. “I am so grateful for you. I’ll be home soon. Love you, bye.” You look down from the bar stool to Benny, the German shepherd Sy gifted you for your last birthday. He was whining under your feet after hearing Sy’s voice through your phone. “He’ll be home soon buddy, I promise.” You bent down and combed your fingers through his thick fur between his ears. Thoughts began to run wildly through your head, like a stampede of wild animals. The clock peered back at you, 7:20 p.m.

Great, you still had 40 minutes to figure out something to do for Sy when he comes home. Racking your brain of things that would calm him down, to bring some semblance of peace to his absolutely chaotic days. Of course! Why didn’t I think of that earlier! You began running around the house setting your tea candles on tables, enough to light the way to the bathroom you shared. Candles were placed very few feet down both sides of the hallway until they reached your bedroom door. Benny was whining while following you around the house, probably worried that his owner had finally lost her marbles.

“Mommy is just getting the house ready for daddy, Benny.” Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you see the time is now 7:45. Thankfully when Sy was building your home, he valued how much you loved baths so he spent a bit more on a larger claw-foot tub. He never would tell you how much he had spent on it. Thousands you were sure, since it was specially made to fit both his larger frame and you.

You turned the heated tile floor on, and sat even more tea candles around the bathroom. Thankfully, you decided on the mega-pack of candles at IKEA, not the small pack. Sy made fun of you for it at the time, but who’s laughing now? His and hers bathrobes were hung on the back of the door, looking extra-appealing tonight. Your robe looked a bit more worn than his since most of the time you were home alone during the evenings. You peeled your clothing off and threw it into the hamper across the room like a basketball, and wrapped yourself in the cozy cotton robe. Every time you put the robe on, like a habit, your fingers grazed over the stitched lettering Mrs. When home alone, this would sadden you, making you remember that your Mr. is half way across the world being shot at. Tonight, it made you happy, he was on his way home to you.

The hot water was pouring into the large white porcelain tub, causing wafts of steam to rise. You poured the rose and tea tree oil in, followed by rose petals. The scent was divine. After filling a little over half way, you shut the water off. Walking your way back around the house, you lit candle after candle, shutting off all other lights in the process. Whiskey! You heard his car door slam shut outside, so you run into the kitchen and grab his favorite bottle of whiskey and two glasses. You giggle hearing his heavy boots hit the porch, him fumbling with his keys. Sy finally gets the door open and stops dead in his tracks when he sees you. Standing there in your bathrobe, loosely held onto your body, holding whiskey and two glasses. The candles flickered across your face and frame, almost calling him in for a closer look.

“Welcome home, honey.” He slowly entered and pushed the door until he heard the deadbolt click. Benny’s nails clicked against the wood floor running towards Sy, until jumping up on him for attention. Sy released a grunt when Benny landed on him, stepping back. “Benny, down.” You snapped your fingers causing the trained dog to go lay down in his bed. Sy bends down and envelopes you in a large bear hug, dipping his face into the dip of your neck. His lips kiss softly, making you giggle at the ticklish sensation. “Now, now. It’s not time for that yet.” He groaned at your response. “Then why did you greet me looking like this?” His broad, roughly calloused hands dipped into the neckline of your robe. The touch of his hands against your chest made you gasp, your body nearly begging for his touch. Your hands meet his on your chest and pull them down to your sides. “Follow me soldier.”

You lead him down the long hallway into your master suite. A flood of scents come through when the bathroom door is opened. Sy has a great big smile on his face, sadly one that you don’t see too often anymore. “You did all this for me sweetheart?” He kissed your forehead, and started to untie his shoes. Heavy, black combat style boots clunk against the floor. “Of course. I know how tough work has been on you lately.” With every word, your fingers slunk down his chest, unbuttoning the thick camouflage shirt.

Thick curls bounced out between the separating hemlines, some of them matted down from past sweat of the day. Strong musk diffused into the air around him, rose and tea tree masking it. Soon, he stood naked in front of you, looking like he had stepped out of a war-zone. Deeply colored bruises lined his ribs, showing the blows he had sustained throughout the week. Sinewy muscles were tightly pulled, creating dips and curves on his waist. You fought against the tears threatening to pool in your eyes, blinking them away. It saddened you to see Sy so overworked, he looked absolutely exhausted. Instead of asking what happened, you let your robe fall to the tiled floor.

Breaking tradition, you get in the bath first, pushing yourself flush against the back of the tub. It was his night to be treated and cared for, not yours. His brow raised quizzically, but decided not to question your action. He sucked in a long drawn out breath when his muscles began sinking into the water. Your arms help him down, pulling him in between your legs. “Jesus woman, think you got this water hot enough?” His short hair prickles against your soft chest, softly scratching. Softly placing your arms on his shoulders, your hands fall down onto his stomach. After a few moments of pleasant silence, you begin massaging his shoulders. He has always loved the way you pushed the pads of your thumbs into his muscles, trying to alleviate the tension. Deep guttural groans cause his body to vibrate against yours, sending pulses to your core.

Looking down onto your husband, you see his long eyelashes flutter closed. All the memories made in this bath dance around in your mind, kindling the fire in your core. So many nights like this with peaceful silence, then some other nights that were definitely not so still. Your determined little fingers soothed every little muscle they could find. Your eyes lazily shut, the hot water and weight of Sy against you calming you. If someone had told you that this would be your life ten years ago, you would have laughed. Never would you have thought you could be so lucky. Gradually in your sedative state, your hands made their way down to Sy’s ribs. Not thinking of the bruises formed there, your fingers pressed in. He sharply jerked in pain, the shock causing his eyes to spring open.

“Oh! I’m sorry.” His hands were tightly gripping the sides of the tub, his knuckles white. Obviously shaken out of his near sleep, he readjusts his position in the bath. Grunting from the sore muscles moving along his body. “It’s okay. It didn’t hurt.” He now sat upright, his back to you. “Liar.” Softly your fingers traced shapes on his back. “Honey… Why are you so bruised up? I hate seeing you this way.” He slowly turns his body around, now facing you.

“I know. Today was the worst of it, it won’t be this bad anymore. There’s this mission coming up, it’s going to be particularly rough so they are just making sure I am ready for it.” Sy never wanted to worry you with his work, so he usually kept everything to himself other than when he would be gone. The fact that he was even telling you this much, was a testament to how bad his mission coming up must be. You slid yourself in closer to him, the water sloshing around your frame.

“Sy, I want you home. I want you here with me. I want to start a family when their dad will be here.” His eyes sparkled when looking at you. “That’s my last mission.” You knew you couldn’t have heard that last part correctly, and asked him to repeat. “I’ll be home for good after this, love.” Your chest tightened, you felt your pulse quicken. You nearly jumped on Sy, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him into a deep kiss. The water splashed out of the tub on all sides. Putting out the flames of some tea candles, darkening the room even more. Your lips pressed harshly into his, his tongue slipping in. You straddled his lap, his erection pressing against your folds.

Your nose was pressed up against his, the two of you barely coming up for air. His tongue was dominating your mouth, slowly dipping in and out. You quickly let a hand escape, and grab Sy’s cock. A deep growl and soft nibble of your lip signaled that he was thoroughly enjoying your touch. Your hand slowly pumped his member, his size increasing. It never took him long to harden, which has served both of you well. His veins were softly throbbing around your fingers, he was ready for you. Gradually you lower yourself onto him, your heat enveloping him. His lips left yours in preference for your breast, hungrily groping them with his calloused hands. Your nipples raised against his harsh touch. His tongue skillfully rubbed against them. You lowered yourself until you felt your ass hit his thighs. Knowing Sy loved being bottomed out in you, you began rocking your pelvis against his. Under his skillful tongue, your lips parted releasing absolutely lewd gasps.

“God you feel so good around me baby. Fucking me how I like.” Waves of water continuously crashed against the walls of the tub, a mess that you will hate to clean later. You had no care in the world in these moments, other than making your husband and yourself feel good.

Muscular arms wrapped around your back, pulling you flush against his frame. His head dipped into the valley of your breasts, his hot breaths hitting your skin. He thrusts sharply up into you, causing you to release a cry. Grunting like a beast, Sy begins to lose himself thrusting up into you at a quick pace. Each time you felt his balls hit against your folds. The quick moments of friction against your clit, were hurling you towards your end. Your hair stuck against your body, from the mix of sweat and bath water. You must have looked absolutely carnal in the moment. Everything your body was doing was only to chase pleasure. Your nails dug into the skin of his shoulders, trying to keep some semblance of balance. Sy was swelling against your walls, his thrusts were becoming erratic. Pushing down against him, you started meeting his thrusts.

“Sy-” You threw your head back, completely lost in the feeling of your husband. “Let go baby. Let go.” After a few more harsh thrusts, you lose function of your legs and feel the spasms of pleasure roll over you. Your skin flushes like a hot fever. Your toes curled in the water. The sensation of your walls clenching him were too much to bear, causing Sy to grunt in ecstasy. You felt the hot spurts enter you, a feeling that you had dreamt about countless nights when you were home alone.

The two of you fall into each other, completely out of breath. Sy leans against the tub, carrying you with him. For an unknown time, you sat there and bathed in each other’s presence and embrace. Even though Sy had gone limp a while ago, you wanted to enjoy the feeling of being connected to your husband in such a close way.

When the water went cold, you convinced Sy to empty the tub and let the two of you out. He carefully dried the water up around the tub enough, making sure that you didn’t slip when getting out. After drying each other off with a warm towel, Sy carried you into the bedroom and softly placed you on your bed. You sighed at the soft cushion of your mattress. Sy fell into bed and pulled you snugly against him. You both slipped under the comforter and fell asleep in each other’s warmth.

#henry cavill #captain syverson #henry cavill x reader #henrycavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill smut

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jiikyu · 4 years ago

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Taste of Marigolds In Bloom

Herb of the Sun — Or Marigold was often used during the Middle Ages as a love charm. Carrying one of these brightly colored flowers was thought to bring love. Though be warned for they are also poisonous. Chapter V. It’s becoming painfully clear you find comfort in the wrong things. Like the smell of the ocean. A smile that’s far too blinding. In the way calloused hands always seem to find their way back to you. Despite everything — Can you really be blamed for falling? ∘◦ ✿ ◦∘ All characters are 18+ Yandere!Mirio x Fem!Reader(AΩβ) Y/N = Your Name F/N = Your Full Name E/C = Eye Color H/C = Hair Color Warnings: Yandere / Unhealthy Behavior / Delusions / Angst / Possessiveness / Manipulation / Breaking & Entering, tho we don’t really elaborate on it this chapter? First Chapter Here❦ Previous Chapter Here❦ Next Chapter In Progress... Taglist. @missyredbean @yandere-romanticism

∘◦ ✿ ◦∘ You’re fading or — At least that’s what you’re starting to suspect. Time seemingly has escaped you. Who knows how much time has passed with you holding of the bathrooms door handle. The metal resting loosely against your skin is now warm from the shared contact and it’s beyond disappointing because — It’s the farthest you’ve been able to will yourself. Motionless you find yourself stuck at standstill. You hate it. You hate the invisible thing stopping you from opening the door, like you would have if it were any other day. It’s not the dry clothes that stick uncomfortably to your skin or the wet droplets coldly clinging to you. Something familiar yet foreign. Settled in the pit of your being, it claws and begs you not to abandon the shelter these thin walls provide. You know what’s taken hold of you and god, does that make it so much worse. You just want it gone. But, how do you kill fear? There is no reason for your hands to be clammy or for the hairs on the back of your neck to stand raised. All you’re doing is making the situation worse, for yourself and — For Mirio. He’s probably worried. Plus, it’s not like you can stay locked away forever. Right? Only when you’re able finally gulp down the passing mania and turn the handle do you realize that you’re alone. Light pours from behind you, spilling into the empty hall. Your E/C eyes take a moment to adjust but it’s clear that Mirio is nowhere in sight. How long had it been? The stillness is broken by the familiar ding of your microwave from the kitchen. “Just in time Y/N!” And just like that the shame eating away at you disappears as quickly as it appeared, lulled into submission by the voice calling out to you. It should probably frighten you. How fast your troubles seem to melt away with the sound of his voice. Leaving the bathroom you forget the jacket still hanging from the tubs edge. Your footsteps are muffled by the carpet underneath, it’s then that you notice the sweet scent dusting the air. You follow the faintest hints of sugar and — milk? Rounding the corner you spot the familiar silhouette standing under fluorescent white light. And it’s hard to miss just how comfortable he appears to be in your kitchen. The jug of milk has been removed from the fridge, garnished with paper towels littering the back counter and a lone spoon sitting forgotten... Oh and one of the cupboard doors has been left hanging wide open. You’re really not sure what he’s done to cause such chaos. The last thing you notice are the two steaming cups, filled to the brim. It’s so faint but, you swear it smells like honey — “Sweetheart I don’t know how you do it!” And suddenly all the thoughts buzzing around your head just stop. A total short-circuit. He just called you Sweetheart. And the bastard doesn’t even bat an eyelash, he just lets it slip past his teeth without any repercussions. Though, if you’re being honest — You’re not even sure Mirio realizes he’s said it. It’s fine, really, it’s not that big of a deal. There are plenty of people around the world that use nicknames. Something as simple as a title of endearment shouldn’t have your heart doing backflips and cartwheels. But it does. You’re absolutely screwed. “There’s barely enough room in here for one person!” His words have you more than a little confused. To demonstrate what exactly he means he lifts his arms in the air. From one hand to the other he practically touches the walls that represent the beginning and end of the kitchen. “See, it’s no good!” Huh. You suppose Mirio’s right in some sense of the word. But it’s him that makes the space feel small. “Well...” You can’t help but chuckle between words at the man T posing in your kitchen. “I guess for you it might be a bit much.” “Nah I think I’m onto something. You’ll just have to move in with me!” It’s hard to tell sometimes when Mirios joking because he always wears a wide grin. But there’s no way it’s a serious offer. Maybe your missing the point, but you don’t see the problem at hand. Sure your dorm might not be as uh — spacious — as the ones meant for rising star heros. But you’re nothing if not appreciative, the space had came with all the basic necessities and for that you couldn’t be more grateful. You’re lucky enough to even have the opportunity of sleeping under the roof of your dream school. “Now you’re pushing it.” Your tone is lighthearted. “My place isn’t that bad.” Though your smile brings warmth to his little heart the moment is soured. He cannot help but stare at the puffiness just under your eyes, from where tears had fallen and stained. A reminder that has the blond to biting into the meat of his cheek. Mirio would be lying if he said felt comfortable with your living situation. It’s far too small — Let alone for the both of you. But most importantly, he couldn’t help but notice the lack of heavy bolts on the front door. He doesn’t like it one bit. Maybe it’s just the itch of anxiety from what happened but he’d much rather see you someplace safer. Somewhere you weren’t forced to be alone, preferably someplace he could stay by your side. Like his dorm. “What’d you make?” Freed from his thoughts it takes Mirio a second to process the question, his eyes follow your stare — The two cups cooling on the counter, the steam vanishing as it rises. He’d almost forgotten! “Oh! It’s honey milk.” Suddenly one of the cups is pushed across the smooth counter surface, till it sits within your reach. “My dad used to make it for me when I was a kid, usually when I was upset or had a bad day.” His smiles softens when he ends with. “I thought you might like it.” What he can’t tell you is that he made it in desperation. A distraction from what he’d done. “Thank you.” Blue eyes watch your fingers wrap around the heated smooth surface of the ceramic. “Really, it means a lot.” He can’t help but stare as your lips part to take the first sip. “Anything for you.” Those words are your wake up call. You’d got caught up in his antics... Are you really that weak around him? Because, now you understand there’s a deeper promise there. One you almost wish had remained in the dark. Almost. “If you want we can watch a movie, or —“ “I think.” You stare into the swirl of milk and honey before continuing. “Maybe we should sit and... Talk about what happened.” Your words always seem to have an effect on him because his pulse begins to race. It’s fear. “Yeah.” ∘◦ ✿ ◦∘ You’re in trouble. Even with the suppressants dulling your senses they’re not strong enough to block the scent of seashore and sandalwood now permeating the walls. Not strong enough to hide the fact that your dorm is already starting to smell like Mirio. If people knew you allowed an Alpha into your home, let alone an unmated one, you’re reputation would tarnished. You know this, it’s been drilled into your head since presenting as an Omega, but... It’s Mirio Togata that’s seated next to you in your kitchen. The one exception — Or at least that’s what you hope. The cheap material of the barstool digs into your back and there’s a constant drumming of fingers against the laminate countertop, a harmony of tension. The thing that held you captive in the bathroom is back and whispering in your ear. It doesn’t use words, no, instead you’re haunted by awful unintelligible garble. Of blood filled lungs struggling for air. This is a bad idea. You can already feel your mouth becoming dry, but there’s no going back — “What happened during the fight?” It’s the one question that could’ve caught Mirio off guard, and his smile falters, if only for a split second. “Oh you mean —“ A hand rubs the skin of his neck sheepishly, as if you caught him redhanded in the cookie jar. “I guess I did go a little overboard on that guy, didn’t I?” He says half jokingly, he wants so badly to be able to sweep the whole thing under the rug. A little overboard? “But don’t worry! From here on out I’ll make sure no one ever hurts you.” Even without his quirk, he’ll manage. “I promise.” Even if it means he has to get his hands dirty. He reaches an arm to wrap around your shoulder, so you know your hero will always be there for you and — You flinch at the touch. ... Mirio blinks a few times because he’s not sure what happened. You hadn’t meant to flinch. You really hadn’t meant it. But it’s too late. It’s clear as day, he sees it in your eyes. And you know it when his smile begins to fall, it’s plummeting. There’s fear in your eyes. Somewhere in your subconscious you must’ve been praying. Stupid, so incredibly stupid. Praying that you were strong enough to hide it from him. And it makes what comes next all the worse. “Wait you’re —“ Blond brows knit together, still grasping the change in atmosphere. “You’re not afraid of me... Are you?” There it is. The air is suddenly tens times heavier, like breathing through a straw. Your throats so dry you’re not even sure you have the ability to speak. When Mirios only answer is deafening silence does he become hyper aware of the situation. You literally see the moment it clicks. It’s in the way his mouth opens and closes in disbelief, in the way his blue eyes widen in realization. It’s like watching an incoming car crash in slow motion , you know it’s going to be horrible but there’s nothing to stop it. You have to tear your eyes away before the inevitable collision and when you do... Mirios panic truly sets in. He had been afraid of you to thinking less of him. But never in a million years did he think that you might see him as a potential threat. This is a nightmare. He’s sweating bullets. “Sunshine I know — I know I messed up.” Another nickname. “I never meant to scare you. I’m sorry — I don’t know what took over, you know I never would have let it go that far but the guy, he —“ Each word more unsteady than the last, more desperate, because you won’t even look at him. And it’s killing him. He can’t take it anymore. Mirios scarred hands find your shoulders, slowly — Like you might crumble away from the touch but this time you don’t recoil from the fingers pressing into the material of your shirt. “Will you please look at me Darling?” Having averted your eyes you don’t bare witness to the pain carving his face but god, do you hear it. It’s absolutely heart wrenching. And despite it all, despite having watched him beat a man within an inch of his life, the last thing you want is to hurt Mirio. So you give in. And you look up to see a man on the edge. It’s worse than you imagined. You see the wild storm of blue, one that could easily ravage everything within its reach. “This is all some sort of misunderstanding right? I was just protecting you that’s all, you know I would never hurt you.” One of his hands has left your shoulder to snake its way to cup your face, thumb stroking languidly over the cherub of your cheek. Desperate for contact, for anything he can get from you. “Please just — Say that you’ll forgive me.” Everything.

From the way Mirios voices wobbles weakly to the way he looks at you with desperation. It’s enough to crush every last bit of reason within you.

You break. This is the man that little voice inside your head screamed and begged you to stay away from? The man who lost everything to save a little girl from some madman? The man who rescued you and is now pleading for forgiveness in your kitchen? That man? Life is cruel. You’re finally able to find your voice. “Mirio. What you did was horrible —“ His heart just about stops beating right there. It hurts. Having his name associated with something so terrible in your eyes, even if to him it was something he’d done out of devotion... It’s a stab to the gut. “And despite everything.” Is this how it ends? You’re going to break up with him. “I — I can’t find it in myself to be upset with you.” Those words leave your lips and Mirio can finally breath. The blond hadn’t even realized he’d been holding his breath till now, the lack of oxygen straining his lungs. But you’re not done yet — “I’ve never met a person quite like you. You are the sweetest, definitely a little dense.” By the end your lips have started to curl upwards, it just comes naturally. “What I’m trying to say is that — I still care about you, and this isn’t the end —“ It’s like the worlds gone silent, your words are going in one ear and out the other. All he knows is that. You’re here. You’re smiling. And you’re not leaving him. It’s all Mirio needs to understand. The swell of emotions is just too much for him. It just sort of bursts out. “Though, you’re —“ “I love you.” ... The last — What? Six hours of your life have been nothing but a rollercoaster, one you’d like to get off of now. You don’t need a mirror to know you’re wearing the most wide-eyed expression of your entire life. But you couldn’t care less, because you’re far too busy replaying those magic words over and over in your head. You’re not sure you heard right. Maybe your skull was smashed against the pavement at some point during the fight and this is all some weird fever dream. That’s right. You’re probably in some hospital with IVs hooked to you. “Mirio —“ Pinching your inner arm before continuing, it’s almost concerning when the tinge of pain feels real. Very real... And you’ll be damned if you can’t find the reason for the sudden lack of common sense in the room. “Did you hit your head?” “I — What no? Y/N I’m being completely serious here.” “Are you sure? M-maybe you should you lie down, just incase?” You’re starting to panic because — Dear god, what if he needs medical attention and he’s here because of your own problems? As if reading your mind he understands. His heart skips and stutters because it’s him you’re worried about. He hasn’t lost you yet. And as much as he would love to tease you about how cute you are — He’s having none of it, because he just admitted his true feelings and your too worried about a stupid concussion! Suddenly he’s no longer seated next to you but standing and... He’s taking a few steps back? Once far enough away he outstretches his arms forward so that his thumbs mirror each other. “Could someone with a concussion do this?” In one swift motion his hands are planted to the floor with both legs kicked to a point in the air. A handstand. “One, two, three —“ Of course, nothing can be easy when it comes to Mirio. Show off. “— Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen and twenty!” Twenty seconds. Your jaw would’ve hit the floor if it were physically possible. It’s impressive. More than that. “I can go longer if you want.” When he hops back to stand on his own two feet the floor trembles. “But, I’m not sure you want to watch me do a handstand all night.” He’s smiling and laughing. It makes you feel small and irrational, that you’ve been overthinking everything. That you’ve made something out of nothing. The panic starts to settle, like a layer of soot waiting for its next opportunity to suffocate. But you gotta ask one last time. For your own sanity. “So... You’re really okay?” If he’s fine then that would mean — “Never been better! Because — Here, let me say it again.“ He says stepping closer, like there’s a magnet between the two of you, he closes the gap. Before you know it large hands find yours, with the outmost care. You can only describe it as being bathed in sunlight, warm and glowing, your digits are dwarfed in Mirios own. It’s slower this time, softer. “I love you.” Has your heart ever flown this high before? “It doesn’t matter whether you believe me or not but, you’re the only person that’s made me feel this way — The only one for me.” You know there’s no way for you to come down unscathed. “I was being serious earlier you know? That... We could move in together.” His thumb maps the tiny hills of your knuckles. “So, won’t you please consider moving in with me?” Really now, it’s got to be one of the most ridiculous things you’ve be asked in a while. Hadn’t you only just admitted your feelings a few hours ago? Doesn’t he care what others will think? Why are you even entertaining the idea? Even as the list continues to grow, reasons on it’s unrealistic, why — Sitting perched atop the stool your feet dangle, support-less. You’re helpless because those blue irises are looking down upon you like your the only one in the world. It’s too much. “I —“ Why won’t the butterflies stop swarming you? “I need to sleep on this Mirio — This. It’s just a lot.” You’re certain now, now more than ever before. You’re in far deeper than you ever could have bargained for. Because you still haven’t said no yet. “Of course!” Voice soft and lighthearted, Mirios hands give yours a squeeze. Whether in reassurance or in fear of letting go he doesn’t know anymore. “Take all the time you need.” ∘◦ ✿ ◦∘ The night ends with you helping bandage-up Mirios knuckles. Rubbing alcohol, cotton balls and Hello Kitty bandaids. The ugly futon you found at a garage sale and a few spare blankets are included in the five star Hotel experience. The springs groan back to life when Mirio unfolds the furniture. You don’t know how long you stand in the doorframe of your bedroom, there’s just so much — Why’d he have to pile everything on you at once! You just need time, that’s all. Time to think. Once you get your head out of the clouds you’ll be able to let him down gently, because it’s a childish idea after all. One you’d never agree too. Right? And maybe if you hadn’t succumbed to a night of stress you wouldn’t have failed to notice the bottle of pills missing from your nightstand. ∘◦ ✿ ◦∘ At some point sleep overtook you in your exhaustion, because your phone now reads 10:12AM. After laying in bed for an extra twenty minutes you finally sit up and only when your feet touch floor are you startled fully awake. Something touched your left foot, and it rattled at you. Your eyes adjust enough for you to see the culprit, it’s your bottle of suppressants. They must have rolled off your nightstand while you were out. It’s quiet. If you didn’t know any better you would say it felt like any other regular morning, besides the lingering fatigue. That’s why when you open your bedroom door it takes you by surprise, the lumpy, vaguely looking human shape on the futon. Mirios sleeping form barely fits the ancient pullout. One of his arms hangs off the side with his fingers resting against the floor. Only with the glow of the television are you able to make out his sleeping face. Whatever miraculous hair gel he buys no longer keeps the mess of blond together, bangs of gold hang over his soft features. A normal persons heart probably wouldn’t flutter at something so simple. From under the blanket peeks the same t-shirt he’s been wearing for at least a day now. The same one you cried into. In a few days the scent of calming sea waves and citrus will fade. And you’ll be all that’s left behind. It’s a realization that leaves you feeling, empty. You find the more time spent mulling over the situation the blurrier everything becomes. It doesn’t matter how hard you try to convince yourself, no matter how many hours you spend staring at your ceiling in the dark of your bedroom — It won’t change the way your heart beats wildly whenever you’re around him. You can’t help but wonder. Is it really such a bad idea?

And you know you’re a terrible person because the curve of your lips is real as you gently place your hand on his shoulder. There are roots that have already taken hold of you long ago.

#mirio x reader #yandere mirio #bnha mirio #yandere bnha #mywriting #remember when i said this would be ready by thursday????????#sorry im slow :'(#pls forgive me ya'll #hopefully u guys like it tho! I dont know how many chapters are left

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akiiramenaii · 4 years ago

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Eden Fic Rec List 🌹❄️

Decided to make a list of Eden fics I enjoyed reading a lot to keep track of them. Personal favorites (aka the ones that live in my head rent-free) have 🌹❄️next to them :D

I won't always love what I'll never have; I won't always live in my regrets by benicemurphy 🌹❄️

Carefully, Langa peels up the blue seal. There’s a plain, off-white card inside that simply says, 2:00 factory. There’s no signature, but Langa knows who it’s from. His heart begins to race in earnest. It’s stupid. It would be so stupid to go there. So irresponsible. Adam is a terrifying, wild person, and Langa would be the world’s biggest idiot to meet him alone, late at night, without telling anyone where he’s going. On the other hand... If he doesn’t go, he realizes, he’ll regret it. There’s something good waiting for him there. An adventure.

Or: the convoluted ship fic in which Adam and Reki both love Langa, Langa and Tadashi both love Adam, Cherry and Joe love each other but Cherry still loves Adam a little bit first, and everyone gets therapy when it's all over, hopefully.

Playing with Fire by Anonymous 🌹❄️

An exhaled breath draws Langa's gaze to the side and he spots Adam leaning against a wall near the factory's exit, board propped up beside him, blowing out smoke from his cigarette. He can feel their eyes meet without being able to actually see them through the dark shadows of his mask. Adam tilts his head in a silent acknowledgement and grins, a sharp tooth peaking through his lips. Something about Adam, or maybe it's something about this moment and the mood he's in, has a familiar burn coiling in Langa's gut and gets his heart stirring, the undeniable need to rise to a challenge and win. Reki is wrong and Langa is going to prove it. Adam was not hitting on him back there. Similar to how he'd jumped in head-first with his races, taking on skilled opponents and embracing the rush of pure adrenaline, Langa marches over to the matador without a second thought.

~ Or: In which Langa accidentally and unknowingly flirts with Adam. It escalates.

give me grief by chirospasms 🌹❄️

Langa wishes he was wrong about the most likely reason Adam has taken an interest in a widowed woman like his mother.

Or maybe he doesn't.

No. No, he definitely does. He's got to stop thinking these things.

the one where adam starts dating langa's mother and langa regrettably still lets him get in his pants

Enthralled by Anonymous

Adam stops before the open door of the car and turns back to look at you. "Langa-kun, want a ride?" he asks. You hesitate for only a few seconds. The choice is an easy one in the end. You're stranded in the middle of a road and the cops are coming.

Never get in a car with a stranger, your mother used to say, back when you were still a child, but the fear of getting caught and arrested by the police is a more pressing concern. You couldn't afford to have a black mark like that on your record. "Sure," you reply. It doesn't escape your notice that the self-assured grin on Adam's face grows even wider when you move forward to get in the car with him, taking the empty seat he leaves as he slides over.

To Love Again by Yamielsun 🌹❄️

Adam ropes his friends into going to watch the legendary skater known as “Snow”, the God of an underground skating operation run at midnight on the abandoned mines.

He falls in love.

glow of dawn by mumsywrites

He turns the corner and spots a familiar shock of blue hair down a set of stairs.

It’s Adam, sitting by himself, the cut-out of his outfit exposing bits of his heavily muscled skin to the elements. A slight breeze blows by and the man shivers slightly. It’s not that it’s particularly cold out, but it is still early. No warmth from the sun to soothe him from the wind.

Langa spots Adam in a moment of solitude after their finale beef.

inhale, exhale by tellmewhatyousee

“Would you like to try it, little Langa?”

Langa blinked, surprised by the question. It had certainly crossed his mind, but he hadn’t been expecting an offer like that. “I’m… not really sure how,” he admitted.

“Well, that’s just fine,” Adam said with a wave of his hand, ashes falling from the cigarette onto the pavement. “I can help you.”

LoveDream by Anonymous

The mask wasn’t entirely out of the ordinary— plenty of people preferred to cover their face as an extra level of security, so they didn’t have to worry about keeping it out of the frame. But there was something about that man’s look, the smirk on his face and his unnaturally sharp canines, that really caught Langa’s attention.

Curious, he clicked the ‘join’ button.

I'm Not In Love by rbt 🌹❄️

Okay, here's the thing: Langa has gone off to university in Nagasaki, and he hasn't been home in a long while. So when Reki suggests that they crash Adam's big, fancy birthday party and drink his booze, Langa pretty easily convinced. What's the worst that could happen? It's not like Langa would get drunk, and then accidentally ask out the man he hasn't been able to stop thinking about for a year, right? Right?

When Langa meets Adam again after nearly a year, he has to figure out what he wants. Is he just crushing on Adam's amazing skating abilities, or is there something more? And how the hell do you try to navigate your own feelings while at the same time having to deal with someone as Extra™ as Adam?

Somewhere to Begin by benicemurphy 🌹❄️

A familiar hum reaches his ears, and he turns and finds one of the drones hovering nearby. It’s nearly silent, but the night is so still — not so much as a breeze — that the noise travels. He watches the thing, but it does nothing. Langa assumed they’d all gone after the crowd dispersed. He has no idea what this one is still doing here.

After a few seconds, he raises a hand in greeting. The drone doesn’t do anything, of course. So Langa says, loudly enough that if the drone were a person, it would be able to hear him: “Adam, if you can hear me… You can come back. You still have a home here.”

The Way of Thaw by Anonymous

Adam had spent most of his life desperately trying to grasp a shred of happiness in a cold, miserable world and seen it slip out of his fingers time and time again. He'd become numb and jaded without even realizing the extent of his sorrow. It had taken almost losing his sanctuary and being brought to his lowest point to make him realize he had been going about it all wrong. Now, for the first time in over a decade, Adam feels content and at peace, a tranquil smile gracing his lips. His heart is at ease and his stress has melted away. This, something simple and kind and offered freely to him from the one he loves and cherishes, is truly Eden.

he has me by my heart by Ivory_Gold

Reki and Shadow are open about their dislike for Adam. Langa is trying to defend his boyfriend.

#sk8 #sk8 the infinity #eden sk8 #eden shipping #shindo ainosuke #hasegawa langa #langa x adam #fic rec #fanfic #sk8 adam #アダラン

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oceantail-oceantail · 4 years ago

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Skephalo Week, Day 1: Soulmates

Title: spin me right round (read on ao3)

Summary:

Bad’s red string of fate that looped around his pinky always jumped around, always spinning around him as his soulmate traveled across the world. They never seemed to stay in the same place for longer than a year.

Every time it moved, he used his father’s compass and globe to estimate where they might be and wrote down his calculations in his journal.

It was quite a coincidence that the locations matched up almost perfectly with Skeppy’s timeline of traveling.

Bad’s string didn’t appear when he was born. It wasn’t a big deal, around 50% of babies were born without a complete string. His soulmate just wasn’t born yet.

If anything, most people preferred to be older than their soulmate. It gave them just a bit more information on their perfect half: the age difference and their birthday.

And sure enough, almost 5 years later, Bad’s string flared to life, stretching northward.

He marked down the date in a small leather journal his mother gave him, in horrible, scribbly four-year-old handwriting.

January 17th, 2000.

~~~

Bad’s string always jumped around, always changing the direction it was coming from.

His soulmate never seemed to stay in the same place for longer than a year.

It started off stretching north. The day it appeared, his father flipped open an ancient looking compass and presented him a massive world globe. Bad spent the rest of the day learning about the Red String of Fate and how to use a compass and a globe to estimate where his soulmate might be, stretching his tiny fingers across the wide expanse of the globe, tracing outlines of different continents and oceans. (Later there would be computer programs to more accurately triangulate positioning, but his father always loved sticking to tradition).

The string only pointed north for a year before it did a complete 180 and now tugged out southward. It was a little embarrassing to admit that he brought his compass and globe to a kindergarten show-and-tell and figured out his soulmate’s new location in front of the class. (“and based on the direction, increase in movement, and degree, I think that they’re in Tampa!”). (Looking back, he was almost right. Clearwater, Florida was only a 30 minute drive from Tampa).

By the end of high school, Bad had several locations scribbled down in his journal, not even including locations that lasted only a week or two ( vacations, most likey).

-North, still in the US, Ohio, Indiana, Michigan?

-TAMPA, FLORIDA

-Farther north than before, Canada or the northernest states??? Ontario (Toronto maybe)

-California? Nevada? Definitely west coast

-Northeast coast, New York or New Jersey area

-Northwest coast? Higher than Nevada/California. Oregon or Washington?

The strangest change happened just after he graduated high school. The red sting pointed directly eastward, out into the open ocean.

That angle was an interesting one. And since it remained steady in that direction, he knew his soulmate wasn’t back in Florida. That means they lived on the other side of the world, and based on some quick calculations with his globe and compass, he would probably guess they were somewhere in the Middle East or Asia.

Bad only lived in one city his whole life and he genuinely wondered how his soulmate felt about having to move around all the time. The thought of having to adapt to a new school and a new city sounded terrifying to him.

But regardless, for as long as he could remember, his red string of fate always seemed to be spinning around him as his soulmate traveled across the world.

~~~

The muffinhead who tried to apply to be a mod on MunchyMC was so annoying. When the call ended, Bad could feel the beginning of a headache building up behind his forehead.

He had no idea why he didn’t decline the call the next time he called.

It was probably his imagination, but his string almost seemed… brighter?

~~~

A simple internet search informed him that Skeppy's birthday was January 17th, 2000.

Bad hit Ctrl+W as fast as he could and slammed his laptop shut.

For as much as he loved puzzling out where his soulmate was on the other end of his red string when he was younger, it was a completely different situation to have his potential soulmate one Skype call away.

~~~

Apparently, Skeppy would be moving in with TapL and Spifey in L.A. Bad was happy for them of course, but he couldn’t help the simmering of annoyance that churned in his stomach.

Did he have the right to be jealous? He and Skeppy had been talking about a meet up for months now and it still hasn’t happened. Bad had always been an indecisive person and he knew his inability to commit to a meet-up must have been aggravating for his much more energetic and decisive friend. It was his own insecurity and nervousness that prevented him from meeting up with Skeppy first, right?

It didn’t matter in the end though, he decided. Now just wasn't the right time. Besides, he’d only known Skeppy for just over a year at this point. Bad had known plenty of other online friends for much longer and he didn’t meet up with them yet either.

Next year, in 2020, maybe he’d be ready.

The day Skeppy was set to fly to L.A. the string slowly stopped from pulling south, and started pulling west.

~~~

The only excuse Bad has was that it was late at night and he was tired.

Vulnerability in general was complex for him. There was a surprising amount of accurate information out there about him either told by himself or his friend. He finds it easy to talk about stories from his life, sharing with his viewers random anecdotes and information but his online personality is different than his personal life. It’s hard to be vulnerable, truly vulnerable, especially with someone you love.

He stayed on TeamSpeak with Skeppy for hours, whispered conversations and secrets spilling out between them with only accompanied by the light tapping of their keyboards and soft mouse clicks as they aimlessly wander around the SMP.

Bad learned that Skeppy’s string was anchored in one spot. No matter where he moved across the world, the string alway pointed unerringly back to his unmoving soulmate.

Skeppy spent the first portion of the night rambling about the places he’s traveled in his short 19 years of life.

It was quite a coincidence that the locations matched up almost perfectly with Skeppy’s timeline of traveling.

When the sun rises over the horizon, they both pretended to not remember what happened.

The string keeps moving and moving, spinning him around and around.

~~~

Skeppy, TapL, and Spifey's lease on their L.A. house expired in Febuary and the string moved back south, stretching towards what Bad knows is Clearwater, Florida.

By May, Skeppy's already bored of Florida and packs up to move to Texas. Bad's string adjusted accordingly.

A trip back to L.A., then back to Clearwater, then to Dubai, back to Clearwater, then to Las Vegas for his 21st birthday, and back again to Florida.

Everytime Skeppy traveled, Bad's string followed.

~~~

Skeppy was a lightweight.

Only two shots in and completely wasted. Truly astonishing. Coupled with the fact that he was streaming, it was just a recipe for disaster.

Bad was trying desperately to keep his frustration at bay, hoping the irritation and desperation didn’t leach into his voice. He really hoped Skeppy wouldn’t mind him pulling this card when he watched back the VOD back sober, but at this point he just needed Skeppy to end stream before he could accidentally dox himself or spill even more embarrassing information about himself.

“Who’s going to pick me up from the airport?”

Skeppy’s reply was tentative, almost fragile. “I will.”

Bad pushed the advantage, ignoring the way his red string seemed to hum at his words. “Well, if you’re streaming you can’t be there.”

“Bad, I’ll pick you up,” Skeppy said, his voice soft, impossibly soft.

Bad felt his annoyance fade away, replaced with a rush of affection. “Alright, well end your steam and you can pick me up at the airport once we meet up in, a couple weeks or months or whatever.”

“Okay fine,” Skeppy whined, burying his face in his hands, “I’ll end it for Bad. Goodnight guys.”

He was going to have a long talk with that muffinhead after the hangover passed.

~~~

Bad didn't text Skeppy when the plane landed.

Skeppy should know.

~~~

“Hey dude!” Skeppy exclaimed, spotting Bad from across the baggage claim. Bad yanked his last suitcase off the conveyor belt before turning to glance up at his best friend, who was half-walking half-jogging awkwardly towards him. Skeppy’s body language screamed of apprehensive exhilaration, but Bad probably wasn’t much better. His hands trembled as securing his last piece of luggage on his cart.

Skeppy’s gaze was flickering back and forth between Bad’s face and the glowing red string stretching between their pinky fingers. He didn’t look surprised to see it, just nervous.

That one realization sent an inordinate amount of relief crashing over him. Skeppy wasn’t surprised. He knew. I knew. He’s here!

“BAD!” Skeppy finally crashed into him, wrapping his arms tightly around him in a hug, and Bad buried his head into Skeppy’s shoulder with a laugh.

“Skeppy!”

Their shared string of fate glowed brighter.

#this was a wip before the prompts were released lol #i probs wont do the whole week bc i cant commit like that wtf #skephalo #badboyhalo #skeppy #Celia writes

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