#thank you very much for the ask!! i Hope your day goes swell | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gravehags · 5 months ago

Text

all vacant and waste

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!Reader (Curator!Reader)

Rating: EXPLICIT, MDNI

Tags: picnics, car sex, confrontation, terzo being terzo, sister imperator ruining the vibes, sister imperator being a complex human being, copia standing up for himself and his girl, FORESHADOWING, mst3k reference

Words: 4,829

Summary: And the two of you were having such a nice day.

a/n: another lore fic but with bonus smut!! and family drama!! enjoy!!

~~~

When you awaken you’re surprised to see that it’s nearly noon.

Copia’s side of the bed is cold and you frown as you stretch and throw back the covers. Getting up, you pad to the kitchen, which is empty. You’re about to turn around and go get your phone when you spot a note on the counter written in a familiar decisive, loopy scrawl.

Amore,

Thank you for your candor and your affection, last night and always. I have a few things to see to this morning but when you are done getting ready (take your time!), meet me downstairs in the Papas’ kitchen - I’d like to pack a lunch and go for a drive. I will keep you in my morning prayers and hope that your sleep was as surprisingly restful as mine.

Ciao xx,

Your shoulders sag in relief as your heart swells - how funny the two of you both slept so well after such a harrowing late night conversation. You wonder if his dreams were anything like yours. With a loud yawn, you stretch once more and head back into the bedroom to get ready. Copia told you to take your time but you don’t want to leave him waiting too long and besides, you’re eager to see his face. Your morning routine runs efficiently and you select a short thin-strapped yellow floral sundress to wear after opening your window and gauging the weather. Grabbing your phone, your purse, and your keys you head out and down the stairs. When you approach the hallway leading to the Papas’ kitchen you can hear loud arguing in Italian. Hesitantly, you approach the doorway and knock against the frame.

“Morning, gentlemen.”

Copia, along with Secondo and Terzo, turn to look at you. When all three behold your outfit for the day all fighting ceases in order to coo and compliment you. You, however, are too focused on Copia’s outfit. He looks very priestly today in his black clerical shirt, slacks, and dress shoes and you can feel your face warm at the sight. Judging from the way his jaw goes slack at your outfit, he’s feeling the same way.

“Bella, look at you! All this wasted on il Cardinale, ah what a shame.”

You give Terzo a stern look and shove past him to go see the aforementioned Cardinale.

“Good morning, my love,” you murmur, kissing him once on the lips and once on the cheek, “Don’t listen to Terzo.”

“I rarely do,” Copia smirks and out of the corner of your eye you see Terzo make a rude gesture. Secondo snorts derisively as he slides a large basket across the island counter to you.

“For your picnic, piccolina,” he says, pointing to a loaf of sliced sourdough, a generous container of fresh mozzarella and basil, a jar of marcona almonds, and two bottles of aranciata rossa. You smile and stand on tiptoes to place a kiss to his cheek which again, has Terzo making a rude gesture.

“Grazie mille, Secondo,” you say, “No tomatoes with the mozzarella and basil?”

“With this one?” he scoffs, jerking his thumb towards Copia, “Never. Ask him to tell you about what Terzo did to him when we were kids.”

“Don’t remind me,” Copia grouses as Terzo chuckles sinisterly behind him, “are you eh, all ready to rock and roll, tesoro?”

“Whenever you are. Secondo, thank you so much, you’re the sweetest. Terzo…stay out of trouble, per favore.”

“I won’t make any promises,” Terzo comments airily, while sticking out his cheek for a kiss which you daintily apply. “Go,” he murmurs in your ear, his hand on your back, “enjoy your time away from here, huh? You and the rat deserve it.”

“‘The rat’ can hear you, figlio di puttana,” Copia growls, muscling in between the two of you with the picnic basket. You give the Papas a wave and you smile as you hear Secondo chastising Terzo on the way out.

“By the way,” you say as you walk side by side down the hall, “you look delicious today.”

Copia scoffs but his ears turn red all the same.

“If I didn’t know any better, amore, I’d say you have eh, a thing for men of the cloth.”

Now it’s your turn to go red but you still grin at him.

“Now why would you think you know any better?” you purr, reaching out to squeeze his ass. The act has him gasping in faux-scandalization.

“Amore, don’t start something you can’t finish,” he says as you approach the front doors to the abbey.

“Later, then,” you wink and the two of you cross the threshold to make your way to his car. It’s beautiful out, as you thought it would be, but as you slide into the passenger seat you clock thunderclouds on the horizon.

“So where are you taking me?” you ask as he pulls out and down the driveway.

“I know a spot,” he smiles.

“Oh?” you turn towards him and rest your arm on the back of the seat, “Take all your girls here, huh?”

That makes him laugh out loud.

“Only the very special ones. So that is to say no one but you. I used to drive out here when I first started living here so I could clear my head and get away from the clergy drama. It’s been a while since I’ve made it out here. Too many eh, obligations now.”

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, reaching out to stroke his hair, “You deserve more days off. I’ve always said you’re the hardest working person in the abbey.”

He smiles softly.

“Second-most employee of the month awards,” he says, puffing out his chest.

“Oh Cardinal,” you coo, “Competency is very sexy, I–wait, second? Who has the first?”

“Eh, some guy named Kevin. Or Jesus. Depends who you ask.”

The two of you travel in silence for another fifteen minutes before Copia turns down a dirt road. The car comes to a stop next to a small, grassy clearing and he puts it in park before slapping his thighs.

“Here we are,” he announces and you both step out. As you move further into the grass while Copia takes the basket out of the trunk, you note a picturesque stream weaving in between the large oak trees. You inhale deep - it’s been a while since you’ve been out in nature - and the myriad of scents and sounds refresh you.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he says, as he stands beside you. You nod and turn to take the blanket from him. You move closer to the water’s edge and spread it out, plopping down on the plush greenery. With a groan he takes a seat beside you and you begin doling out your meal. Your conversation is…lovely. Worlds away from the one you had in bed last night. You’re swapping childhood tales when you’re reminded of Secondo’s words from earlier.

“So what’s this thing with you and tomatoes?” you ask, popping an almond into your mouth.

“Eugh,” Copia says in between chews of bread, “Fucking Terzo. I don’t like raw tomatoes - never have. And yes I know, I know I make a poor Italian but when I was little, I don’t know maybe eight or nine, and Terzo was older - the right age to act like a little shit - he took a tomato from the gardens and chased me around the abbey with it. I was crying, he was laughing and when he finally caught me and smushed the tomato into my mouth I broke free, gagging. Before I could make it to the nearest bathroom I puked all over this ancient cardinal who had the misfortune of standing nearby.”

“Oh no,” you say, covering your mouth, “Copia that’s awful!”

“It gets worse,” he says, smiling despite his words, “This cardinal - his name was Carlo Udinesi - stood there filled with rage and told me, ‘you will never come to anything within this Ministry, ratto bastardo.’ He died not long after that. I remember his funeral and I remember wondering if my puke is what had pushed him over the edge.”

“Ominous,” you say with a laugh, “And not to bring up last night but very Damien Thorn of you, my love.”

“It was, wasn’t it? That’s where I got my tattoo from, you know.”

You tear into a piece of sourdough.

“I had wondered,” you smile, “Just chalked it up to you being a horror fan but I love it even more now.”

“It was a bit of both. Terzo convinced–”

You feel a large, heavy drop land on the back of your hand, followed by another, and another. As the two of you were engrossed in conversation you hadn’t noticed the storm clouds rolling over your heads.

“Shit,” you sigh, “we better pack up.”

Copia nods and stuffs the remainder of his piece of bread in his mouth, rising to his feet with you. Before you know it the sky opens up as you’re putting the food back in the basket.

“Cazzo!” Copia shouts as you ball the blanket up and he gestures for you to hand it to him, “Get in the backseat, I’ll put this shit in the trunk!”

By the time you make it back to the car and open the door, throwing yourself inside, you’re soaked. Copia joins you a minute later and slams the door, panting.

“Good thing you didn’t wear your paints today, huh?” you grin, “You’d have looked like a drowned raccoon.”

He reaches down and pinches your thigh.

“Very funny, amore. I think I would have looked eh, metal.”

“Oh I’ve hurt your feelings,” you murmur, “let me make it up to you.”

It takes some finagling but you’re able to pull yourself up and swing your leg over his lap to straddle him.

“Signorina, in the backseat?”

You smile wickedly.

“Mmhmm. Want you in the backseat like I wanted it New Year’s Eve on the way to dinner. Besides, how am I meant to resist when you look like this.”

Your fingers make quick work of the top few buttons of his shirt and his hands come to rest on your ass and squeeze.

“When I look like this? Amore,” he growls, leaning forward to lick a stripe up your neck that has you shivering, “almost told the brothers to fuck off so I could have you on the counter in this sweet little dress earlier, huh? Little tease.”

He captures your lips in a lewd kiss, tongues sliding against each other in a way that has you whimpering into his mouth. When you finally have to separate for breath he grins up at you.

“Ah, this is a familiar sight, eh dolcezza? Speaking of New Year’s Eve.”

You giggle warmly and nod, pressing open mouthed kisses to his neck. When your teeth drag along the sensitive skin there you feel his cock kick against you.

“Cazzo, diavoletta mia. Have you–ah–have you always been so hungry for me?”

You pause in your efforts to suck a mark into his throat and pull back.

“Always.” you breathe, flexing your hips against him, “Wanted you from the moment I met you.”

“Likewise,” he sighs as you reach down to fiddle with his belt, button, and zipper, “when you walked into my office that day, unholy fuck. P-pretty little thing and so sweet. I k-knew you were special immediately.”

“Well,” you say, easing the thick length of him out of his underwear and rubbing your thumb against the head, making him gasp, “we were made for each other after all, hmm? Destined for one another. Destined,” you murmur as you shift the gusset of your soaked underwear to the side, rubbing your cunt on him, “to love and protect and fuck. So says your Unholy Father.”

Copia’s mouth hangs open as you raise yourself onto your knees and position him at your entrance, impaling yourself upon him with agonizing slowness. When you finally have all of him encapsulated in your tight, wet heat, he moans and his hands slide under the hem of your dress as a prayer is pushed from his lips.

“Ave Sathanas.”

Your breath comes in little pants as you cup the side of his face and run your thumb along his sideburn.

“Ave Sathanas,” you murmur, “for giving me you.”

Gently you ease yourself off him and take him back in, your mouths sharing breath. You’re trembling as you set a rhythm, riding him with increasing force as you moan wantonly. Between the rain and your actions, the windows of the LeSabre have become steamy and it only reinforces the filthiness of your act.

“Amata mia,” Copia grunts, thrusting up into you in time with each roll of your hips and making you see stars, “w-wore this pretty dress for me on p-purpose, huh? W-wanted this all along.”

Your laugh is breathy and borderline hysterical as you bounce on his cock.

“Mmm fuck–knew you’d love it. I was–ah–gonna fuck you outside on the blanket til the r-rain came. This is even b-better.”

The last word comes out of your mouth in a higher octave as you pant and whine, your thighs burning even as Copia massages them. When one of his hands slip between your legs, his thumb making tight circles over your clit, your back arches and thrusts your breasts into his face. Not missing a beat, he leans forward and sucks at your nipple through the thin fabric, eventually losing patience. Growling, he takes his unoccupied hand and tugs the strap and the front of the dress down until you’re falling out, his hungry mouth latching onto your hardened bud. Your eyes roll back as he plays you like a fiddle - cock pumping into you, fingers on your clit, lips on your breast - moaning into the humid air inside the car as you cling to him. He pulls off you to gasp for air, groaning.

“Cazzo, d-dolcezza, you’re close I can f-feel it.”

He’s right, with every rut of your hips and swipe of his thumb your cunt clenches around the thick length of him. He begins murmuring to you in Italian and you catch a few words here and there - good girl, perfect girl, mine - and when you look down into his eyes he gazes up at you with such raw adoration it pushes you over the edge. You don’t even realize you’re crying until his hands are on your cheeks, swiping away the tears as you ride out your orgasm.

“L-look at me, amore mio,” he breathes, and you do as he asks, cupping his face in your hands. You watch as his jaw hangs open and his breaths come short and sharp, pupils blown as he fucks up into you one, two, three more times and cums with more of a wail than a moan.

“I love you,” you whisper, pressing your damp forehead to his, “I love you, I love you, I love you no matter what.”

You know your grip on him has to be borderline painful and when he reaches up to take your hands in his and press them to his lips, you sob.

“Thank you,” his voice is small, and he sounds like he’s holding back on tears of his own. “Amore mio, thank you. Sei il mio tutto. I would do anything for you. Anything.”

You hiccup and nod, wrapping your arms around his neck and drawing him close. His hands roam your back, tracing patterns as you breathe in the faint orange blossom scent of what remains of his hair pomade. You’re not sure how long the two of you sit like this - until your thighs start to ache and long after he’s gone soft inside you - but when you finally pull apart the way he looks at you brings a small smile to your face.

“We uh,” you sniffle, inelegantly wiping your nose with the back of your hand, “we should probably get back.” Your words are punctuated with a full body shiver that has him tutting and easing you out of his lap.

“You’re going to catch a cold like this, dolcezza. Half naked, hair wet. I’ll get you back to where it’s warm.”

“Grazie, nonna,” you murmur, giving him a wink before opening the car door. It’s still pouring outside but the fresh air after the humidity of the vehicle is nice, and it smells wet and green out. You don’t even mind getting a little more damp as you move to the passenger seat and Copia slides in beside you, eyes a little dewy.

“I eh, I don’t think I said it back but…I love you too.”

“I know.”

He chuckles.

“Okay Han Solo. I just have to say it out loud sometimes, huh? If only to remind myself that I uh, have somebody to love, sì?”

“My love, I will never complain about hearing it. It’s nice to be loved. Even though I’m um…still not really used to it, you know?”

You try to muffle the shiver that shakes you but Copia’s sharp eyes have caught it and he’s fretting again as he starts the car.

“Well get used to it, amore, because I’m gonna be so annoying about it I–”

The two of you look out the windshield. Or…try to. The glass is entirely fogged over from your activities and you let out a bark of laughter as Copia sighs heavily.

“There’s a rag in the glove compartment, can you…”

“On it.”

–

The two of you make it back to the abbey eventually, laughing as you run through the rain from the row of garages to the front door. When you step inside the marble entrance, it’s chilly and you grip Copia’s hand and start to drag him in the direction of your apartment.

“Come on, bello mio, let’s go dry off and put a movie on and…what’s wrong?”

Copia has stopped in his tracks and is staring straight ahead at the figure marching towards the two of you. You’d know the clack of those heels anywhere and your blood runs cold as Sister Imperator approaches, lips twisted in a disapproving grimace.

“I was under the impression that you two were under the weather. What a miraculous recovery you’ve made.”

You glance sideways at Copia, whose face is a mask. His eyes though, are filled with fire.

“So I took a personal day. Frankly, Sister, I think I deserve it every once in a while.”

“You have obligations, Cardinal.”

“Oh? And spending time with my Sathanas-approved mate isn’t one of those obligations?”

Imperator pulls back as if she’s been slapped and your heart sinks. Yes, the two of you had planned on confronting her about her demands but you wanted to be able to talk first. Plan. So much for being prepared.

“Both of you, my office, now,” she says, deadly quiet before turning on her heel and walking away.

Copia gives your hand a squeeze and when you look at him with anxiety written all over your face, his brows furrow.

“Together,” he murmurs.

“Together,” you confirm.

Sister Imperator doesn’t wait for the two of you, simply anticipating that you will obey her and follow. When Copia opens her office door she’s sitting behind her desk, hands folded on the surface and a venomous look on her face. The two of you sit down opposite her and she eyes your still clasped hands with disdain.

“I think this goes without saying but you’re fired,” she states curtly while looking at you. Your jaw drops and heart plummets but Copia barks out a harsh laugh.

“No, she isn’t,” he says, a faint sneer playing along his lips. “Because if you fire her, I’m leaving the church. And you can’t lose your precious pawn, can you…madre?”

She’s looking at you once again, her face pale and drawn.

“You–you told him everything? After I said–”

“How could I not?” you say and you hate the way your voice shakes, “How could you tell me all of that and expect me to keep it to myself? To suffer in silence with that knowledge about the only man I’ve ever loved? How could you think he didn’t deserve–”

“Your suffering means nothing to me, girl,” Imperator spits and Copia looks enraged.

“Her suffering is everything to me and you will not speak to her like that, capisci? How could you be so cruel to the woman your son loves? To tell her she was chosen to be a broodmare regardless of her personal desires?”

“She can be replaced,” she says, looking over to Copia desperately. “Cardi, we found her, we can find another.”

“Find…another…?” he says, blinking at her. “She’s…she’s not a broken toy that can be discarded and…how could you say such a thing?”

A silence descends on the room, punctuated by you sniffling and angrily wiping tears away.

“I love your son,” you say, voice cracking, “I would do anything for him. He knows this. I love him not in spite of what he is but because of everything he is. He’s a good man, a devoted cardinal. But he deserves better than to be pushed around on the Ministry chessboard his whole fucking life. He’s forty-nine years old, Sister. That’s forty-nine years you could have spent acting like his mother - caring for him like a mother would. But you–”

“Don’t you dare presume to tell me what I have and have not done,” Imperator says quietly, icily. “Do you think I wanted it to be like this? That after I gave birth I wanted him to be wrenched from my arms and treated like an orphan? To be told by Ministry officials that I was just a vessel and my claim on him was null?”

You blink back tears and with some surprise you realize she’s doing the same. You’ve never seen her so upset and judging by Copia’s face, neither has he.

“I’m sorry.” you murmur, “Sister, I am so, so sorry they put you through that. It’s not right and you deserved better.”

A tense silence settles between the three of you.

“Does my amore not deserve better?” Copia says softly. “Does she not deserve to have autonomy over her own body, as the Olde One deems? I’ll play my part, but spare her this horror. Let her stay by my side as an equal partner, let me keep her safe. Consider this the only favor I’ll ever ask of you, mother.”

Sister Imperator fishes a handkerchief out of her pocket and wipes at her cheeks, eyes avoiding both of you. When she finally does look at you, there’s something deeply sorrowful in her gaze.

“I wish your father was more like you,” she says, glancing over to Copia after a moment. “Maybe things would have been different.”

“My…my father…?”

“Don’t be silly, Cardi, I’m sure you pieced the puzzle together by now. You were conceived in a ritual involving Papa Nihil being possessed by the Unholy Father.”

So Copia was right. You look over to him and his face is twisted in anguish, devastated to receive confirmation on what he suspected his whole life. You take his hand in both of yours and squeeze tight. Imperator’s gaze flicks between you both and she lets out a heavy sigh.

“Okay,” she says to herself softly, as if making up her mind about something, “Okay. Plans…plans can be changed. In the end this…setback…affects very little, I suppose. I’ll have to speak to Mr. Psaltarian and the rest of the Council about this but…yes this should work.”

The weight in your stomach begins to lift and Copia looks over to you.

“You’ll respect my wishes, then?” you ask tentatively.

“Yes. Yes, dear I believe you’ll–everything will be fine.”

Dear. Well it’s a significant upgrade from girl, that’s for sure.

“Thank you,” Copia says, “Sister. Mother. Whatever. Thank you.”

She nods, but she looks preoccupied with other thoughts.

“Why don’t you two take the rest of the week? Give you a chance to clear your heads. I-I understand this has been a lot to digest.”

“I eh, thought I had obligations?”

Imperator gives Copia a tired look, perhaps the most motherly you’ve seen her thus far.

“I thought you deserved time off, Cardi? If not I can always send you the budget for–”

“Eh, no. We’ll take it. Thank you, Sister.”

The two of you rise and Copia leaves but you stand in place looking at the woman before you.

“Thank you,” you say so quietly, you’re not even sure she heard it until she nods. She opens her mouth to speak but shuts it again, clearly second guessing what she was about to say as she waves you out. When you shut the door behind you, Copia is leaning against the hallway wall and staring at the floor.

“Hey,” you murmur, fingers reaching out to brush his side, “you okay?”

He inhales deep and exhales through his mouth before reaching for you.

“I’ve never spoken like that to her before. Pretty sad, huh? Almost fifty and–”

“My love, you were wonderful,” you say, gathering him into your arms, “I’ve never seen you so furious, it was magnificent.”

His shoulders shake in your embrace and for a heartbreaking moment you think he’s sobbing but when you pull away he’s got a grin on his face.

“Amore, you make me so brave,” he says, cupping your cheeks in his hands and placing a kiss on your forehead. You chuckle, putting your hands over his.

“Do you think…” you murmur, lips twitching into a smile and he cocks his head, “do you think when Meatloaf was singing about doing anything for love but not that, the ‘that’ was having the Antichrist’s baby because–”

“Sathanas, you only just dodged this bullet and now you’re making jokes? Incredibile.”

Chortling, he starts to walk down the hall and you loop your arm through his.

“Leave me alone, it’s how I process trauma. And I no longer think your mom actively wants to murder me in my sleep so I’m celebrating a win here, love. But…would you really have left the church for me? Did you mean that?”

Copia stops and turns to you.

“Assolutamente. In a heartbeat. A life here without you in it would be meaningless, amore. You are all that matters to me now and if that means finding a new job and a new home, well. With you I can do anything. And don’t you worry, I would never let her hurt you. Never,” he goes quiet for a moment and then speaks again, “Makes you wonder, though, you know. About what she has in store for me.”

“Hey,” you stop him, arms on his biceps, “whatever it is it’s your choice. It’s your life. No one is destined to fulfill any kind of contract, not even you. Whatever you choose, I’ll be right here beside you.”

He smiles, nudging your chin with his thumb.

“Let’s go take a hot bath, huh?”

You groan.

“Oh that sounds divine. And put on Mystery Science Theater 3000?”

“Which episode, though?”

“Antichrist’s choice tonight.”

He rolls his eyes.

“Manos.”

“The Hands of Fate? Classic. Hey, is it weird I always had a thing for Dr. Forrester?”

Copia stops in his tracks and you look at him innocently.

“Maybe it’s the whole evil thing. And the mustache.”

He calls you a name in Italian under his breath and you spend the rest of the walk back to your apartment begging him to divulge it. When the two of you reach the door he finally breaks.

“I said ‘birichina mia’.”

“And what does that mean?”

He sighs.

“Eh, ‘my naughty little one’.”

Your mouth forms an ‘o’ and you bite your lip while opening the door to your quarters.

“Get that bath started and I’ll show you just how naughty I can get, hmm?”

Copia grins at you wickedly.

“Twice in one afternoon? You spoil me, amore.”

“Hmm I suppose I do,” you say airily, lifting the hem of your damp sundress over your head and tossing it onto the floor. Copia’s eyes go wide as you pinch at your pebbled nipples and he backs clumsily into the doorway of your bedroom.

“Well go on,” you purr, shimmying out of your underwear. “Get to it, Your Eminence.”

You’ve never seen him move so fast as he hustles into your bathroom, untucking his shirt along the way. By the time the two of you are slumped over and spent much later in the now tepid bathwater, he’s softly singing something in your ear while your eyes drift closed.

“Is that one of Terzo’s songs? ‘Bible’?”

“Eh, yeah,” he sounds sheepish so you reach behind you to scratch his scalp soothingly.

“You’ve got a nice voice, my love. We should do karaoke one night.”

He chuckles.

“Oh no, I’m not built for performing, amore. Too much pressure.”

“Who knows,” you murmur, leaning back against him, “you might surprise yourself one day, hmm?”

#curator reader series #cardinal copia #cardinal copia x reader #cardinal copia x female reader #the band ghost #the band ghost fic #rachel writes

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moonstruckme · 1 year ago

Note

hi! i hope you're having a good day<3 i was wondering if you could write a remus x fem!reader where they aren't really dating but everyone knows they like each other (them included) where r has kinda mean friends? like, they leave her out of everything and she constantly feels bad about it. and ever time she tells remus he's like "you should drop them, you deserve better" and he's just trying to get her to see that she deserves better?

Thank you <3

modern au

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 736 words

Remus can feel a heaviness building where you sit on the couch next to him.

He lets his eyes slide subtly in your direction, and you’re frowning at your phone. Not an upset frown, no pursed lips or drawn brows, just a slight downturn of the corners of your mouth. You look defeated, and Remus can’t abide it.

“Everything alright, love?”

Predictably, you soften like butter at the endearment, and your expression as you turn to him is kind if not happy. “Yeah, I’m good,” you say, and Remus pretends not to know it’s a lie. He waits. Your eyes drop to his shoulder, one thumbnail picking at the other distractedly. “I just wish…I wish that if my friends were going to hang out without me, they’d at least not post so much about it.”

A familiar ache starts up in his chest. “Oh no. What’ve they done?”

You shrug like it’s little to you, but he sees the way you press your lips together, the faint redness creeping up from your neck. He hopes you don’t cry, if only to spare his delicate heart.

“They’re all at Hannah’s place, I guess. Going to go see the new movie premiere.” You laugh. It sounds raw. “I actually asked them if they wanted to go do that tonight, and they all said they were busy.”

The frailty of your voice works like glass shards, cleaving Remus clean open. “Darling,” he says, and he doesn’t care that you’re not official enough to acknowledge the endearment in its full capacity. You both know he means it well enough. His hand slides atop yours the way one tempers one ingredient by adding a tiny bit of another before the rest. You soften at his touch, and Remus goes all the way, curling his arms under yours to give your back a firm squeeze. “I know you’re sick of hearing it from me, but they really don’t deserve you.”

A tiny drop of warm wetness slides from your face to his shirt. His own fault, really, but if a good cry is what you need he’s ready to indulge you. “I just want to know what it is about me that makes me so terrible to be around,” you weep, and Remus crushes you to his front unthinkingly, a protective ire swelling within him. He wishes he could go to your friend’s house and give these girls a talking-to right now, but you probably wouldn’t thank him for it. He settles for dragging his palm up and down your back, hip to shoulder and back again.

“Don’t say that,” he pleads with you.

“I know, I’m sorry.” Your sigh is a stilted, shuddering thing. “I’m putting you in an awful position. I don’t mean to fish for compliments.”

“I know,” he promises, his hand stopping where Remus can feel your heart beating through the material of your shirt. “And I’m not saying it out of any sense of obligation, but you really are lovely to be around. I mean” —he pulls back so you can see his face, hoping the sincerity in it will make some headway against your self-doubt— “would I be here if you weren’t?”

You give him a small smile, thin-lipped. “You’re very nice.”

Remus laughs, wrapping his fingers around your upper arms and barely restraining himself from trying to shake some sense into you. “I’m not that nice. But okay, Sirius would never hang around anyone he didn’t actually like, can we agree there?” He takes your silence for acquiescence, and, with a gentle smile, goes on. “Every one of our friends sees how kind, and smart, and lovely you are. They” —he shoots a pointed look at your phone— “are the only ones who don’t. That’s how I know you’re not the problem, sweetheart,” he says, softer now. “They are.”

You look him in the eyes as you take a deep breath. This one goes in and out steadier than the last, and some of the tension in his own chest eases. “Thank you,” you tell him.

Remus can’t help himself; he pulls you in for another hug, selfish to his core. “No thanks necessary,” he says firmly.

“I guess the only thing to do,” you say, voice muffled against his shoulder, “is to stop trying to make plans with them and hang out exclusively with you.”

Remus laughs. He doesn’t hate the sound of that.

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 2 years ago

Note

Hey I’m not sure if you’re doing requests right now (if not then please just ignore😭) if you are doing requests I was wondering if you could write and Aemond x Wife Reader where she’s with child, in where the dinner scene takes place but when Jace goes to hit Aemond the reader tries to stop him and jace blond in anger pushes her and she falls to the floor and starts to bleed (the child is okay in the end) and it the whole table goes quite! Please and thank you!! I love your writing sm💕💕

'If looks could kill'

A/N: I got this request ages ago so sorryyyyyy~ I was unsure how to approach this one as there is a very similar fic by the wonderful @aemonds-war-crime and I was really weary and making it not too similar, hopefully I did it? lol

Go read theirs cos honestly it's better anyway

Warnings: mention of miscarriages, hurt reader, protective aemond, childbirth / Ao3 link

You raised your arms out in a silent plea, feeling too heavy and weak to be able to pull yourself up. Smiling up to him, you wiggle your fingers.

“A little help?” you say in a half-mischievous tone.

“Hm” Aemond responded with that half-smile before bending at the knees to take your hands to pull you up.

You feigned a groan of pain as you came to your feet, one hand stationed under the large bump as if for protection. It took no effort from Aemond at all to pull you up and he smoothed his large hands down your side. He stood before you in silence, but you could feel his eye over your form, beaming with pride at the bump that touched against him. So much so, he placed his palm to it and closed his eye. His expression was so peaceful you would think he is falling asleep, but with a soft laugh you lay your own palm on his face, softly stroking your thumb against it.

When he looks down at you, there is a flash of worry.

“Are you sure you are well enough to do this?” he asks.

Without a beat, you nod, hand still finding its home on his face.

It was only natural that Aemond was worried for you throughout this long and tortuous pregnancy. He had concerned himself with your wellbeing the entire time, making sure the right foods and the right care was provided, lest the servants feel the wrath of a Targaryen soon-to-be father.

It made you regard him with love and trust the way he took care of you. But a tug of sadness was always there.

Before this pregnancy, your marriage had been plagued with a few miscarriages, some later than others, but still painful nonetheless. The first had been the most painful to your emotions and every one after had chipped a little piece of you away with it. But what worried you the most was the extent at which Aemond seemed to hide his own feelings from you. He was always there for comfort when it happened and you desperately wanted him to at least tell you what was on his mind. If he was grief-stricken, would he tell you?

When this pregnancy came around, there was a deep, dark and hurt part of you that thought it would not last. You thought to not get any hopes of passing a particular milestone and many nights you were crying in Aemond’s arms just praying for the Gods to end it if it was not to result in a baby. To spare you the sadness and grief at another lost child.

But days, weeks and months passed and you only swelled more. You would pull the dress under your bump in the mirror to see how big you had gotten and a motherly pride would overwhelm you at the feeling of growing Aemond’s child and heir inside you.

You meet Aemond’s gaze, half-worried, “Are you going to be alright?”

He sighs deeply, “I shall have to be”

You send him a sad smile, resting your hand on top of his, “And you will not antagonise them?”

I raise my eyebrow when Aemond doesn’t respond, a smirk appears on his face.

“I am not sure if that’s a promise I can make”

You huff a laugh and press a quick kiss to his lips, closing your eyes to savour the feeling of him alone with you before you were to share the evening with Rhaenyra and her children.

“Just try and be good”

You smile, knowing that he most certainly will not.

Between waddling to the table and feeling the kicks of the baby against your insides, the evening wasn’t so bad. There was a bit of squabbling for certain and some glares exchanged, namely by Aemond and Luke, but you supposed it was to be expected. Nobody had expected them to be the best of friends after all.

You pushed the food around your place, feeling your appetite dwindle as the night went on. Even the comfort of wine didn’t seem to touch the discomfort you felt at the baby resting on your pelvis. But nothing seemed to cause more discomfort than when Viserys was escorted from the table back to his chambers. The atmosphere changed entirely and there was a thick layer of tension to the room, threatening to snap at any moment.

You watched as Jace invited Helaena for a dance. It would have been nice to see had Aegon not adopted a sour frown at the sight of the brunet’s hands on his sister-wife. Perhaps he felt embarrassed, you were not sure, but it was certainly of no bother to you as you closed your eyes, one hand rested at the bump. A habit adopted only in the last month or two.

You jumped slightly and opened your eyes when Aemond squeezed his hand over yours, looking at you with concern.

“Are you alright, my love” he asked.

You nodded slowly, “Just tired. I may retire soon”

Aemond tapped your hand before pulling back, passing a scathing look to the younger brunet at the other side of the table. Your eyes watch your husband as a roasted pig is brought to the table, and to your discomfort, is placed right before your husband. You close your eyes, hoping Luke isn’t stupid enough to retort to it, but when Aemond turns to see Luke and a hateful smirk makes its way to his face, you know it was too late for the kind words of a wife to bring him back.

Luke immediately ceases his laughter when Aemond’s fist makes contact with the table, standing with his cup. You open your mouth to ask Aemond to calm down, but the words tumble from your husband’s mouth before you get the chance. Everyone in the room has their eyes trained on Aemond.

The tension in the room is as tight as a bowstring.

“Final tribute” he finally says. His deep voice resonates throughout the room, authoritative and well-meaning in his eyes.

“To the health of my nephews”

His eye meets Jace, who is sending daggers at him from across the room, “Jace” Aemond says.

“Luke”

The younger brunet pretends to feign indifference, but he must know as well as everyone else, he is afraid of what his Uncle might do or say, given the circumstances of their relationship.

“And Joffrey”

The table braces themself for more. You look up to your husband on the off chance he is looking down at you to ask him to stop, but he is far too deep now.

“Each of them handsome, wise…”

Alicent looks as if she might throw up anticipating what Aemond then says.

“...strong”

“Aemond” Alicent scolds in a soothing voice, her panicked eyes meet yours. Both the women in Aemond’s life give one another a silent plea that all this end, but powerless to do anything to stop him. And in some strange truth, perhaps Aemond deserves to have this word in some way.

“Come, let us drain our cups to these three strong boys”

Jace’s return sounds angrier even though he is to your back and you cannot see his face, “I dare you to say that again”

“Why?” Aemond barks back, “T’was only a compliment. Do you not think yourself strong?”

You had enough and you rise from your chair as Aemond rounds the table to approach Jace.

“That is enough, Aemond” you scold quietly, placing yourself before him.

Aemond attempts to go around you, but Jace is already advancing and before you know it he is almost right before you. He looks blind with rage, almost unrecognisably so and there is something in his eye which seems unhinged, as if not thinking clearly.

Instinctively, you step in front of Aemond, arm reaching across as if you could offer any protection despite Aemond’s clearly larger frame. But Jace’s eyes only land on his Uncle and without thinking he places his palm flat on your shoulder to shove you out of the way to land a punch to the side of Aemond’s face.

You gasp out as your hand reaches out for the table as you tumble, your weight off balance due to the bump before you. But your eyes widen when your hands miss the table and you topple over the chair to land square on your front on the cold, hard stone floor, landing with a groan of pain.

Hands flat on the stone floor, it takes you a moment to really realise what has happened. Everyone in the room takes a breath and is completely silent while they watch you come to the realisation of what had just happened. Pushing yourself from the floor shakily, you realise you have landed on your bump and a sound halfway between a cry and a choke escapes you as you feel the familiar ache in your womb.

You look up to Aemond with glassy eyes and his form is entirely still, his face stoic and you see his eye flit from you to Jace. His whole body is charged with something and you realise exactly what it is when in just a second he had Jace pressed against the wall, his dagger pressed against the older brunet’s throat. His expression is not crazed or angry and you are surprised just how calm Aemond looks as he threatens Jace’s life.

Jace blabbers incoherently, making half-apologies. All on deaf ears.

Alicent rounds the table in a jog to kneel by you and she goes from helping you to a more comfortable position, to wiping away the tears on your face.

“You dare harm my wife, bastard” Aemond spits, pinning the smaller boy to the wall with ease.

You grip Alicent’s forearm, a new wave of pain crashing through you, taking every ounce of strength with it. She looks down at you with furrowed eyes and out-of-breath you say,

“What’s happening…?” you ask, feeling a warm sensation between your legs.

Rhaenyra and Daemon only watch from the other side of the table as the scene unfolds. Daemon has one hand resting on his sword’s handle, just in case anything goes too far, a sickening smirk on his face.

You look up to Aemond to find he is already staring down at you. The previous anger now turned to complete shock and concern at the situation that has befallen the evening. With a soft sheen of sweat on your face and the lines of tears that had run down your face, you meet his gaze with concern and fear. This feeling you knew and you shook your head, it could not be another, could it? Could the gods truly be this cruel?

Alicent is jittering with anxiety and pulls Aemond off of Jace, having spaced out with the blade still at the brunet’s throat.

“Aemond…” you let out a quiet sob as he kneels to you, “...something is wrong…”

Without thinking, Aemond brings your body into his arms, rushing you with an entourage of people to your chambers. Before he has a chance to question, the family are pushed to the other side of the door, various maesters and midwives all filing in to fill their stations. It was like preparing for battle.

Concealed on the outside, Aemond was entirely inconsolable and paced for hours, flinching whenever you made a sound that evoked pain. He felt his fist clench so hard he thought the bones may give out, and he imagined bashing Jace’s head through for merely laying a hand on you in your delicate condition. Oh the things he would like to do to that boy.

But the sheer anxiety of your situation had him obediently outside your chambers. The family could only wait for those fated doors to open. Alicent grasped her son’s arm in comfort, eyebrows furrowed in worry.

Aemond had been sitting outside the doors for hours now and to put it bluntly, he had made himself sick with worry for your wellbeing. He had heard very little through the thick doors, and this seemed to concern him even more. His eye looked up to find Alicent pacing the hallway before him, seemingly attempting to soothe herself.

One side of the door opened and the maester poked his head out and almost immediately Aemond stood to attention, lending his ear to the maester to whisper. It was the dead of night and in fact may have been very early the next morning, and the Keep was completely silent, even the whispers of the maester seemed to echo.

Face blanched with worry, Aemond was allowed into the room. His gaze scanned the room in a panic, eventually landing on your form, sitting upright in the bed you shared together. Your tired eyes met him and gave him a soft, but exhausted smile, one hand underneath a bundle held tightly to your chest. Your husband’s ghostly white expression never faltered once, fully expectant for all this to be some cruel dream.

You extended a hand out to him and swallowing heavily, Aemond dragged his feet over to you and shakily reached out to touch you. You pulled him to sit next to you, but his gaze was stuck on you the entire time to observe you. Your shift had been abandoned and a silk robe had been tied around you as you laid in bed, multiple cushions and blankets stacked upon one another to create the soft mound to rest your body against.

Your face was flushed and a thin layer of sweat was still evident on your brow, but all the same, your smile warmed him. You huff a laugh as you lay a hand against his face,

“My love” you say, bringing him out of a trance-like state, “this is our daughter”

His eyeline follows yours down to your chest, where a small bundle of a baby was suckling against your chest. A warmth that was not previously there spreads through Aemond’s heart almost painfully and some semblance of colour is once again painted at his cheeks.

His index finger reaches out to stroke the infant’s head. Halfway between a choked sob and a laugh rattles through Aemond’s chest. The infant was small, but flushed with a pink flush, looking healthy. You leaned forward to stroke his hair and he leaned against you, placing his forehead with yours. A silent act of love.

He grasped your hand tightly, not wanting to let go.

“Well done, my love” he said quietly, “I thought the worst”

You look back down at your daughter, who made a content sound, “I did as well” you admit.

After a few minutes, Aemond stood and straightened his clothing, turning towards the door.

“Aemond” you call after him.

His purple eye lands on you once more, softening instantly.

“Don’t hurt him too badly” you smile.

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luveline · 2 years ago

Note

hi hi honey! so i sent this request before but tumblrs been eating my asks so i’m gonna send it again,

i’m the person who asked about the kisses before dinner universe and so since u said u hadn’t gotten any requests for it i wanted to send u one! u mentioned that it was quite nerve wracking the first time reader got pregnant so maybe u could do a blurb where steve’s just comforting her and reassuring her during that time? if u want something more simple, it could just be a small blurb of how their night goes when reader comes home from work or something? ty and i hope tumblr actually ate my request and i’m not bombarding u with this again :(have a good day lovely ❤️

i love kisses before dinner i wanna write a thousand blurbs for them, thank you for requesting! here's steve and u when ur pregnant the first time with avery <3 fem!pregnant!reader

You're more young than you'd planned to be, the first time. Young and terrified.

Steve knows how scared you are, and though he hasn't suggested anything again since the first time you'd made up your mind, you know that any path you take is the one he wants to take with you. Having his support makes it easier, but it certainly doesn't make it easy.

Pregnancy is terrifying. It can make you so sick. It can kill you. So while it's beautiful, and Steve insists it's doing numbers for your complexion, it's gruelling.

You're not even that pregnant yet and still you're fucking tired.

"Stevie?" you call, or try to, voice hoarse with fatigue.

He emerges rather than answer, arms open wide and waiting. "Hey, sweetheart."

And that's new. Steve has always been a "babe" or "baby" kind of guy. Your pregnancy has made him soft.

He's careful not to press against your stomach though it doesn't hurt even slightly when he does, abdomen held away from the small swell of your bump as he gets his arms under your armpits, hands rubbing over your shoulder blades. "Hello," he says sweetly, kissing your cheeks, your chin. "I missed you so much." He hesitates for a second, and then he lets a hand slide between your bodies.

You lean back to let him know it's okay.

"And you," he adds, palm flat over your stomach, "I missed you, too."

"I don't feel very well."

He nods. "Alright. Come and sit down."

That's another one of his insistences. Total, awful honesty. Pregnancy is full of problems, like morning sickness and heartburn and back ache and nausea and headaches. It leaves you stressed and exhausted, and Steve had made it very clear that any complaining was welcomed.

You know, in your heart of hearts, that he's more excited for this baby than you are. He's terrified, too, but he's brimming with joy half the time, so eager to meet whoever it is that comes out on the other side. And you know he feels indebted to you, though he shouldn't. You want this baby a lot.

But Steve aches for them. He's gonna be a great dad.

Right now, he needs to be an amazing boyfriend almost husband.

I don't want a pregnancy proposal, you'd said.

His guilty smile had given him away fast. I want to marry you.

And I want to marry you, Stevie, I do. But not because we're having a baby.

In your mind, he's not your husband or your boyfriend, he's your Steve, as silly as it sounds. He's your everything. He's the only thing getting you through this.

Steve sits you down on a cushion in the kitchen and plants another kiss on top of your head. You haven't lost any mobility yet, but the pleasure of being cared for so deeply makes it hard to turn him down when he guides you around like this. Though, sometimes, when you're cranky, you complain about being babied. He takes it all in stride.

He cracks open a cold bottle of water and gives it to you. Then he turns back to the chopping board next to the stove and finishes what he'd been doing before you arrived, funnelling slices fruit into the colander. He rinses it, and then he pours it into a bowl and puts it in front of you.

"You want peanut butter?" he asks, wrapping his arms slowly and carefully across your shoulders, chin hooked over your shoulder. "Honey? I could melt down some chocolate?"

You pick up a shimmering slice of watermelon and tip your head back to feed him.

"Salted caramel?" he asks as he chews.

You smile softly at him and lift your chin until he gets the memo, leaning down enough for you to kiss the side of his mouth.

"Stevie," you say, because he's so fucking lovely and you love him and not everything hurts when he's around, "I love you. I hope you know how much."

He blinks at you, swallowing hurriedly. "I know," he says.

"Okay, good."

"You think I don't know? Sweetheart, you're carying our kid."

"But if I weren't, I'd still love you this much."

He softens like taffy in the sun, rubbing the tip of his nose into your cheek adoringly. "If you weren't, I'd still love this much, too."

You breathe him in, the wet crush of watermelon between you and his lingering aftershave.

"But you are," he says eventually, kissing your cheek again and then pulling back. "So you better tell me if you want peanut butter of chocolate."

You choose. Steve is delighted, spoiling you with fruits and toppings and asking about work as he starts to make dinner instead. That's another conversation you've already had — he's still working now, but when the baby comes, he's gonna stay home even after maternity leave ends. And if you change your mind and want to stay home instead, that'll be okay too. He's a dream like that. Accommodating your every want and wish.

And so, he's teaching himself how to cook. It's more hit than miss, shockingly, and almost always nutritionally golden.

"Broccoli again?" you ask, trying to hide your amusement.

"Our munchkin's gonna be the healthiest kid ever. TV dinners are for schmucks."

You aren't sure he'll be saying that when he actually has a kid. "She won't be able to eat broccoli for the first six months."

"She wont," he agrees, clearly overjoyed at the idea of a little girl, "but when she can, she's gonna love it."

The fruit is nice and then not. You might've overindulged, or maybe your stomach's being sensitive, but suddenly it smells very strong and you have to push it away, keeling in on yourself with a sigh.

Steve doesn't fuss dramatically, but he does fuss, hand hesitant behind your shoulders.

"You need a bucket, baby?"

"No, I-" Saliva pools in your mouth. "Maybe."

He's swift, kneeling in front of you with the bucket positioned at your feet, hand sliding between your legs to find your hand where it's kneeding your aching stomach.

"She's bullying you, huh?" he asks sympathetically.

"She's barely the size of an apple," you moan, sweat prickling across your brow. "How can she do this to me?"

He strokes the inside of your hand with both thumbs. "She doesn't mean to."

You know that.

Eventually the sickness subsides. You don't throw up. Steve seems as happy as you do about this, kissing your hand with a very apologetic expression.

"I'm sorry," he says.

You lean back in your chair, back already aching, and pull him up onto his feet. If he's surprised at your strength he doesn't say anything, only closes you in again with his arms over your shoulders and his cheek pressed to your warm forehead.

"Don't be. We knew-" You laugh. "I knew this would be hard. I knew it would suck. But I want to do this with you."

"Even though you're scared," he murmurs.

"Even though I'm scared."

His hugs are a balm, always. You melt with relief the longer he holds you, listening to the pot simmering on the stove, lid rattling, steam whistling out of the gap. There's a fondness in his hands you find difficult to describe, devotion or something similar, big palms roving the lengths and slopes of your arms and back like you're made of the most precious thing on earth.

"I won't let anything happen to you."

That's sobering. You suppose you can fall into dramatics about it. Pregnancy is solemn, but it's also completely normal. Millions of people are pregnant right this second. You smile into his jaw, breath hot as you laugh.

"I know, baby," you say, more cheerful than you've sounded all night. "Promise."

He laughs too.

"My girl," he says, too much like the song. You're worried he's gonna start singing. Actually, you might like it.

"Can we listen to the radio?"

"Depends. Will you dance with me?"

You dance with him. You suppose it's a good idea to get all your dancing out now while you can, because in a month or two you'll have cankles, and not long after that you'll have your arms full. He pulls you in and spins you out, brown eyes dancing with a brand new happiness, silky hair falling in perfect layers either side.

"I hope she has your eyes," you say. The shape of them.

"I hope she's your carbon copy," he says, twirling you around, radio hiding the clumsy patter of your socked feet. "A mini you. God, what will I do then? I can barely say no to you."

"You never say no to me."

"Exactly."

He smiles so hard his lashes kiss in the corners, a pleased squinting grin. He can say what he likes. If she doesn't get his smile you'll riot.

#steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x fem!reader #pregnant!reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #stranger things 4 #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #kisses before dinner universe #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x pregnant!reader #steve harrington x reader fluff #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction

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prettypeppermint · 1 year ago

Text

swan song.

for t. shelby. a continuation of 'the gift of silence. (how sweet the sound)'

Sacrifice was your greatest gift. It clung to your name like a drawn bowstring, pregnant with prospective yet surmounting to nothing. You gave to your family until their deaths pried your outstretched palms away; you gave to your future self through tired feet and hard-earned sweat. Now, you've given to Thomas Shelby. Your very own love language.

You would give just about anything to take it all back.

He was kissing you--tasting you. He was asking for more and more of you every day through his longing gaze and patient fingers. You hated making him wait for something unattainable.

He wanted you a certain way--pliant, moldable. Soft.

He wanted you only to take from you. He wanted to collect you piece by piece.

A giver and a God.

"Tell me," he muttered into your mouth, tasting the way your thoughts grew sour on your lips. He read you in a way not kindled through love but through years of hardened business.

You pulled away half-heartedly. Your mind wrapped around him and you needed air.

"Say you love me," you ordered, staring into the core of his glacier-capped irises. There was no hope--no apprehension. You've digested every unspoken word already. You knew.

He peered down at you through his heavy line of lashes. "What--are my acts of service not enough?" he said lowly, an air of an insatiated euphemism in his voice.

A swell.

A silence.

An atonement.

"I love you." His finger traced a lock of hair into the canyon of your ear.

"I don't believe you."

A scoff seared through his teeth--a breath through the cornice of his lips.

"I've been thinking recently. During the day; during the night"--you began walking aimlessly around his office, fingering book spines and swiping the dust off of ledges--"during that ungodly hour before work. And thank God I have, because now I know you've been lying to me."

Thomas analyzed you--dissected every syllable. He listened.

"When you look into my eyes, I see nothing but her in yours."

It always goes back to Grace.

The lack of pain in your voice irked him on a deep, almost irrational level.

"At first I was hurt--confused. But now"--you circled back to him--"now, I feel nothing. I am nothing." You waited for him to interject despite knowing he never would. Sometimes, you were too painfully clear of his character; of just how much control he had over you; of how many ways he could hurt you while protecting you--love you while losing you.

"Then I realized: I'd rather be yours than nothing. Isn't it sad--a lass like me? Maybe I should first learn how it feels to be my own--to know every crease of my skin and grow comfortable in my flesh how you've grown so comfortable in mine."

The man you loved, whom you had sacrificed for one final time.

Your muscles yearned to reunite with him, but you held your arms to your sides in protest. "Thomas Shelby, you love me how a man should, but not how a woman should feel loved."

And now you'll spend the rest of your life chasing a notion--a concept--made only somewhat tangible by a man who could give you no more than all of him. Now you'll lose yourself searching for someone to search for you. Now you'll see him in all the men who fail in forgivable ways and love kindly.

A piece of him you will keep; a piece of you he will throw away. Until the next.

"You love me," he states, seemingly unphased. "And I love you."

"You don't know what love is, Thomas. How could you, when you've never loved anyone more than they've loved you?

"That's the ultimate testament of the caliber of a man's heart. It was never me, Thomas. It's her name you whisper in your sleep. Hear it. Accept it. Remember my voice saying it. Cling to it for the rest of your goddamn life so you never tell another woman you love her again."

For the first time, he noticed, you sounded defeated.

For the first time, he saw the vices of Birmingham shade your rural clarity.

Your voice sounded different without the usual fight in it; it revealed the exhaustion you forced down with cigarettes every morning and night. Suddenly the violet shadows under your eyes introduced themselves. Suddenly you looked 5 kilograms emaciated.

It was then that you became another woman in Thomas Shelby's life. You were no longer of the Kilkee coast or the sweetened countryside. You were ruined, and now you were just like the rest.

No girl who ever got tangled up in Shelby business ever makes it to London.

A swell.

A silence.

An empty impenitence.

"Goodbye, Thomas."

While he waited for you to fight for him, you once more decided to give.

Twice more, he took from you.

You wanted to feel his warmth against your lips once more. You had suddenly wished you'd savored your last kiss. "I hate what you've made me," you whispered.

He hated how the words sounded--how they tainted your tongue.

"You hate what you've become for me," he corrected.

You gave him a lonely, far-off stare, as if you were looking straight through him. He knew he had lost you.

You ignored his previous remark: "I hate how you made me think it was safe to fall in love with you."

You hadn't realized your eyes had welled up with an undeniable glaze until you felt a drop of glass wetness fall from your cheek. "I hate how you've turned me into another one of your women."

When Thomas didn't move, or walk closer to you, or even soften at your unraveling, you felt sour all over. Suddenly, you wanted it to hurt.

"No one has ever loved me in my entire life," you said to yourself, almost inaudibly. It sounded so ridiculously girlish and naive, unlike anything he had ever heard you say before.

A swell.

A painful one in the grit of your heart.

You felt heavy as you slowly turned and left his office.

†

He found you passed out in the chapel, your chest sprawled across the altar, your palms still clasped together in weak prayer. A mistiness clung to your eyelashes. He was once again reminded how much he loved how you looked in your sleep: like a soft lull of the shore had washed over you and cured a light peace into your soul.

He stood over you, counting your breaths and watching your lungs expand with life just to expel it. You smelled of ash and rosaries and beeswax. A tear rolled over the apples of your cheek and onto the peak of your nose.

"Silly girl," he rasped lowly before sitting on the floor and pulling your limp form into the cradle of his chest. His palm met the crown of your head to pull you further into his weight, his other hand hooking around the lonely bend of your waist. He felt his shirt seep with moisture, and he knew you were awake.

"She was a piece of my past I can't go back to take away," he said, his chin resting atop your head, voice bitter yet smooth like coffee on a good day, "But if any part of her had led me to you, I wouldn't go back to change a moment of it even if I could."

Your shoulders shuddered silently, and your sobs permeated directly through his chest and into his heart. He always knew just what to say, to the point it scared you.

"Give it time," said Thomas, petting your head in rhythm with your heart, "Give it time."

While you gave, he invested. He invested in all the times you've chipped away at yourself for him, and he kept them in his heart until the next time he would use them--like a business transaction.

But could you blame him for loving you how he knows best?

To understand his love was more than enough. Yet, your consistent upturned and empty palms rendered you greedy.

He collects your wet cheeks between his hands and brings you to look up at him. In his eyes, you saw the end of a road.

Was this all there was? Maybe so.

"Let's get married. Right here, right now"--he swiped his thumb across the slick of your undereye--"That way you'll be mine to keep. No more goodbyes."

You felt the Lord's eyes on your kneeling form. An odd feeling of shame and acceptance washed over you and clogged your chest.

It was then that you knew: loving Thomas Shelby was never going to be beautiful. It wasn't simple or painless or any of the things love should be. And it would never be the same kind of love that it was yesterday.

But what could you do? What could you do if you loved him nonetheless?

If you would always be loved how broken women are loved?

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cosmiic-world · 2 years ago

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Hey ! If you're ok writing that, could you possibly do what kinks you think the bothers have

I really like your account!

yes of course! i was actually thinking of making something like this so thank you anon!! i'm glad you asked and i hope you enjoy!

p.s there is some mentions of afab reader in mammon's, beel’s and asmo's (maybe also a tad in belphie’s)

some may be shorter than others and i sincerely apologize 🤧 also i’m very sorry it took so long!

lucifer

degradation - gets off on the whines you let out when he calls you his little slut. enjoys it just as much as you do.

praise - likes to praise you and be praised. makes his heart swell when you tell him he's doing so good.

submission - hear me out. when he's having such a rough day and you just wanna take care of him :(. will let you take the lead and lets out the most heavenly whines you've ever heard.

bdsm - bondage and sadism fr. seeing you tied up does something to him <33

roleplay - will dabble in it from time to time, especially when he's helping you with homework or something school related hffhdhfhdj

pet names - calls you darling or kitten sometimes.

punishments - loves when you misbehave because it gives him the go ahead to teach you your place. punishments range from spanking to extreme edging/denying you your orgasm.

humiliation - loves how red you get when he teases you or calls you a dumb slut. "you wanted to have dick in you so bad, huh? say it. let me hear you."

impact play - goes hand in hand with punishments but he loves when your ass gets so red with his handprint :((

mammon

praise - loves when you praise him. he gets a lot of shit from his brothers so when you call him a good boy or reassure him during sex, he absolutely loves it :((

exhibitionism - very posessive and easily jealous. will fuck you in public and purposely make it hard for you to keep quiet. purposefully leaves your door unlocked when fucking you just to have the thrill of possibly having someone walk in, especially since his younger brothers have the tendency to barge into your room.

degradation - only very little and when he's in a very specific mood. he's sensitive when it comes to this so make sure you reassure him with aftercare :(

oral - LOVES eating you out. loves when you grab his hair and tug him closer. loves the taste of you and can never get enough! it's like he has his own 5 star meal.

auralism - gets turned on from your moans and whines. loves every sound that you make and will make sure everybody can hear the symphony that is you.

sensory deprivation - mostly loves when you blindfold him. gets excited when he can only hear your footsteps and doesn't know whats next.

choking - loves to choke and get choked. he loves the hazy feeling he gets from your hand around his throat and loves seeing you in such a daze from him choking you.

a switch - very easy to dominate him, no matter what he says. his pride may be big but trust me, when he crumbles and submits to you, it's the best.

worship - speaking of submission, when he is subbing, he LOVES to worship you, calling you his goddess and can never get his hands off of you. loves kissing every inch of your skin. also loves when you worship him, especially when he's in his demon form and your hands roam all over his demon features.

leviathan

dacryphilia - loves seeing the tears fill your eyes when you take him. even more so when he fucks you with his tail.

humiliation - receiving but very little or he’ll cry. if he does end up crying, will need reassurance and cuddles afterwards :((

mutual masturbation - he’s in LOVE with this. usually it makes hims feel dirty but oddly, when you do it with him, it makes it more hotter. he cums faster too.

cockwarming - loves when he's grinding on a game and you're there giving him support from your spot on his lap.

breeding - goes absolutely FERAL at the idea of getting you pregnant.

praise - lives for you calling him a good boy, etc. makes him feel better and more confident in himself and as a result, will fuck you harder <3

roleplay - esp w cosplays. he found out he loved fucking you in cosplay when you dressed as a sexy character from his favorite anime.

switch - mostly a sub but either when he's jealous or angry, he will decimate you. absolutely feral when he's dominant.

asmodeus

lord where do i start.

voyeurism - loves the thrill of fucking you in public. he's definitely the type to finger you underneath the table in a restaurant, smiling innocently as you struggle to form a coherent sentence. "what she meant to say was..."

dacryphilia - loves making you cry from how good he fucks you, it just makes something inside him snap.

somnophilia - consensual! sometimes he just wants to fuck you but you're too tired :(( likes to wake you up by fucking you <3.

auralism - loves hearing your moans and cries. when he hits that spot and you just let everything out <33.

bondage - sees it as an art form almost. gets creative with the intricate designs and loves seeing it on your body.

spanking - loves seeing handprints on both his ass and your ass :( will also smack your pussy (only if you like it)

degradation - loves calling you a dumb little slut and his cumdump. always makes sure not to cross the line and if he ever does, he profusely apologizes.

praise - balances out degradation with praise <3. will even praise you while degrading you. you don’t know how he does it but he knows how to work you up with simple praise.

choking - sometimes does it to get a good grip on you while he pounds into you. loves it when you grab his hand and push harder into your throat.

switch - he loves to dominate you but loves it when you dominate him just as much. he loves when you order him around and degrade him. he’d worship you if you asked him to.

pegging <3 - loves when you fuck him so deep with your strap. sometimes he’ll use a magic spell so you feel just as if it were an actual dick, moaning as you pound into him and feeling him clench down so hard. gets dizzy from you hitting his prostate so good.

fingering - loves to finger you and watch as you cum again and again just from his fingers.

overstimulation - loves to make you cum so much that you sees stars and loves it when you overstimulate his cock. loves when you ride him and you just can’t help but milk his cock dry :(. loves to hear your whines and cries from the amounts of orgasms he’s bringing you to.

oral - another good pussy eater <3. loves to taste you and could never get enough! he could spend all day just eating you and he has done it before. 10/10, would do it again.

satan

bdsm - definitely sadism and bondage. he loves seeing how you look tied up and helpless and will even experiment with magic. he'll definitely see some spells that intrigue him.

degradation - will be semi-harsh with you but apologizes during after-care <333

teasing (does this count as a kink..) - he loves teasing you in public and gets you SO needy to the point you beg. will degrade you for wanting to fuck him so bad as if he didn't work you up so badly.

power play - loves being in control and seeing you submit so easily. especially when you're on your knees and looking up at him with your cute doe eyes.

pet play - definitely has a collar with his name engraved on it with a cute little bell and some cat ears. maybe even a tail butt plug.

dumbification - LOVES when he fucks you so good that you can't even speak. his heart swells when you lay in his bed, mumbling about everything and nothing.

beelzebub

food play - cliche, i know but he likes to lick shit off of you like whipped cream or honey. once he used golden hellfire newt syrup. you couldn’t walk for almost a week after that.

oral - ANOTHER pussy eater <333. includes a little somnophilia, because he loves to eat you out even while you’re asleep (consensual of course.)

size - something about you being smaller than him. he’s able to toss you around like a doll and it awakens something in him. almost cums on the spot when you’re riding him and you’re struggling to take him in your tight cunt :((.

hair pulling - loves when you pull his hair, whether its when he’s eating you out or when he’s fucking you so good and the first thing you grab is his hair <3

marking/breeding - he can get VERY possessive so he loves to leave hickeys on you, EVERYWHERE. thighs, chest, neck, everywhere. both visible and unnoticeable. breeding you makes him absolutely feral. it motivates him to pound you into oblivion.

overstimulation - he doesn’t mean to do it he swears, sometimes he just can’t get enough and doesn’t wanna stop! especially after such a rough day with all of his school council work :(

slight voyeurism - he loves to fuck you in the locker bathrooms after winning a game of fangol. he just can’t wait until you get home and he still has adrenaline pumping through his veins, might as well get it all out now.

belphegor

somnophilia - another cliche yes, but! he loves to fall asleep with his dick so deep in you and he wakes you up with desperate thrusts.

fingering - he loves when you sit in his lap, especially at dinner or in public, he sneaks his hand underneath your little skirt and teases you before fucking you with his fingers underneath the table. loves to watch you struggle trying to keep your noises in.

choking - yes. you heard me. and no not because of that lesson. he just loves the way his hand looks wrapped around your little throat! he can’t help himself.

breeding - another possessive one. a teensy bit yandere but nevermind that. the image of you with a baby bump popped into his head one time and it was burned into his memory. ever since then, he’s always came inside you claiming “it’s less of a hassle.”

cockwarming - going back to the first one, he loves falling asleep in you. it’s so warm and it makes him feel so cozy.

auralism - loves to hear you moan and it’s probably his possession talking but he always wants everyone to hear your beautiful sounds!

bondage - only when he has to. i.e when you cover your mouth with your hand as to not make noise. he doesn’t like that so he ties your hands and pins them down.

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yourpalmickeymouse · 7 months ago

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Hello Mickey! How ya doing pal? (Hope you’re having a swell day)

I wanna ask, what do you think about your nephews Morty and Ferdie? I assume you’re kinda close with you considering well. You’re their uncle and I feel you do fun stuff with them sometimes. And another question is, what’s your current job right now? Do you enjoy it (or do you feel you wanna do something more fun. That you clearly enjoy the most)?

That’s all! (Sorry if it’s too long) see ya later Mickey :)

-Sunny ☀️

Hiya Sunny!

I am havin' a swell day! Thank you for askin'!

What great questions. I would love to answer 'em both.

Oh, I love my nephews Morty and Ferdie. They're just so fun and energetic and every time they come over and visit, I just know that my day is about to be 100 times more interesting. They can sometimes... get into things they shouldn't. But I also was a mischief maker back in the day, so I have no standin' to say anything. In fact, I actually see a lot of myself in them. Just like me, they can go overboard sometimes. But they also have hearts of gold and are usually clever enough to fix it, or at least know when to get help. That's usually when I come in 😆.

I know the boys can sometimes seem as if they are the same person, but they're pretty different. Morty, who tends to dress in reds, is definitely the more rowdy and brave one. He's usually the one findin' the trouble in the first place 🤦. But it comes from a strong drive for life and so much excitement for what the world has to offer. He has such big dreams and hopes and honestly, I hope he goes far. Unfortunately, he doesn't always think through what he does. He tends to run into things head-first and without warning, but he has good instincts that help keep him safe. And a lot of times his spontaneity is just what the situation needs 😉.

Ferdie, the one wearing more blues and sometimes wears glasses, on the other hand, is more shy but is extremely smart and mature for his age. He's usually the one being dragged into trouble by his brother🤷, but I think he enjoys the adventures they go on, just as much as his brother. They help him come out of his shell and be more prepared to face the unknown. He prefers when things are more planned out and can be hesitant to unexpected changes. But it is because he cares about havin' a good future. He was just askin' me about good colleges yesterday and he's not even in high school. He has a very bright future ahead of him and I cannot wait to see where he goes 🌞.

As for your second question,

I'm actually currently workin' as a Detective for the Mouseton Police Department. And honestly, things seem okay so far. I used to have another job, but they weren't treatin' me right and wouldn't let me grow in the ways I wanted to. It was tough movin' from that job as I genuinely thought that it was my dream, and revolved so much of my early life around it. But it wasn't makin' me happy, and I kinda think I misattributed some of the positive experiences I had with my sister, who is still workin' in that field, with my feelin' towards the work. Honestly, it can be tough figurin' out where you belong. And even I still feel like I haven't figured that out yet

Luckily my new job is definitely a step up. For starters, the people I work with are much better. I was already pretty close with Chief O'Hara as he was my neighbor growin' up. He tends to be very supportive and even recommended me for the detective role (even though I think I might be a bit underqualified, I didn't realize how high rank of a position it was 😓). But he says he trusts my skills and convinced the others that it was a good idea. So I guess I better not mess this up. There's so much pressure.

Though I mostly work with the other two detectives. Brick can seem a bit intimidatin' on the outside. He's pretty big. But you'll soon learn that he's neat once you talk to him. If you ask questions 'bout Texas, he'll be your best friend in an instant. Though be prepared to listen to him for hours, haha. Casey on the other hand... Well... He can be a bit of a... challenge sometimes. I think like me, he's also under a lot of pressure, and that causes him to be a bit stubborn and hesitant to get help. He apparently was really strugglin' with cases before Brick and I came into the picture and it probably felt like an attack on his pride when we came to help. But I think he genuinely cares and wants to do a good job. And with the right push, he can do a swell job.

However, it isn't just the people that make this job a step up. I actually think I am enjoyin' the work more. There is just something 'bout investigatin' and solvin' crimes that clicks with me. Every time we get a new case, I don't wanna put it down until I have it all figured out. Maybe O'Hara was onto something when he hired me. And even better yet the work I do is actually helpin' people get justice which is what I really care about. I've always wanted to make the world a better place, and I feel like I'm doin' my part with every sinister scheme I stop and every person I help.

Though, I can't say everything is perfect. While I do enjoy my work and the people I work with. There are quite a few elements of working with the Police Department that... I am not sure how I feel 'bout. It's honestly hard to talk about. I just don't want O'Hara to feel like he made a mistake. But I also want to make sure I'm doin' the right thing.

But hopefully, that answers your questions! 😄 This was pretty long, but I wanted to give you my best answers.

I hope you have a swell rest of your day, Sunny!!!

#mickey mouse #morty and ferdie #chief o'hara #detective casey #brick #askblog #answered #mickey and friends #mickey mouse and friends

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e-dubbc11 · 2 years ago

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My dearest Ericca. A huge, huge congratulations on the 200 followers. So well deserved ❤️

You are an amazing writer and an even better friend. I'm so thankful I have you in my life ❤️

As for the ask, I know you sometimes want to do some Billy angst, so here goes:

��i wish i could love you, i know you’d be good for me, but i can’t.”

Thank you so much for all your amazing stories, especially your amazing Billy ❤️

My dear sweet Lily, I am very grateful to have you as a friend. Thank you for sending this in and thank you for following me and enjoying my fics, your comments and compliments make my heart swell. This is angst with not exactly a happy ending, I really hope you like it. ❤️

Love Me

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: couple of swear words, angst, not exactly a happy ending

Word Count: 1.5k-ish

The giant stuffed frog sat in the corner of your bedroom. You didn’t have any other place for it, it was so big. He had won it for you at a fair upstate, he told you he would win it for you, his confidence level always so high.

“You would have to get a perfect score to win that thing, Billy.” You told him with slight doubt in your voice.

“I’ve had a little bit of practice, sweet girl.” He said with a smile.

He did get a perfect score, he won that stuffed frog like he said he would and you were sorry that you ever doubted him in the first place. He even carried it around for the rest of the day for you, he was so sweet.

Billy Russo was handsome, charming and when he smiled at you, there were butterflies in your stomach for days. The state fair was your first of many dates but it was one of the most memorable.

When the ferris wheel stopped suddenly at the top, your stomach dropped because you weren’t expecting it.

“Are we stuck?” You asked?

Billy glanced down for a minute and brought his gorgeous onyx eyes back to you. “Looks that way.”

“The view from up here is beautiful though.” You said.

He never took his eyes away from you. “Yes it is.”

“The view is THAT way, Billy.” You said to him with a little laugh.

Quickly he looked out towards all the trees that were starting to change colors with the change of season but just as fast, he turned back to stare at you. “Yeah but I like this view better.”

“Oh you are very smooth, Mr. Russo.” You said sarcastically and narrowed your eyes at him.

“I’ve never been stuck at the top of a ferris wheel with a beautiful woman before.” He said.

“Nice try, you probably paid them to stop it at the top, didn’t you.” You crossed your arms across your chest.

He chuckled. “It’s only because I thought this would be the perfect spot to kiss you for the first time.”

His words caused your arms to drop and your body to relax but you were still a little nervous as he inched his face closer to yours and with his hand cupping your cheek, he softly pressed his lips to yours. You couldn’t recall any other time when a man did something that romantic for you…ever.

Even though it was a little bit cheesy, that was probably the moment you fell for him. You had fun with him, he made you laugh, and he looked at you like you had hung the stars in the sky.

The dates that followed were amazing. Dinners, shows, after work drinks at places that normally wouldn’t think twice about not letting you in but with Billy Russo, it was “no problem” and “right this way, sir.”

He had swept you off of your feet. Your dates progressed to being more intimate, take out, sleeping at his place, breakfast the next morning…all things couples do. But he never ever said you were a couple, he never told you how he felt about you, and even after five months together, never told you that he loved you.

After an evening out, you couldn’t take it anymore and you just needed to talk to him about it. “Billy…what are we doing?” You asked him.

He looked at you confused. “What do you mean, sweet girl?” He asked.

“I mean this…” You pointed your finger back and forth between the two of you. “You and me.” You raised your voice a little.

“What? I thought we were having fun, right?” He said.

The anger you felt through your body was about to boil over. Did he have any feelings for you at all? Were you just a piece of ass to him? An escort that wasn’t getting paid? This was shattering your heart into a million pieces.

“Do you care about me at all, Billy?” Your eyes started to well up with tears.

Billy sat forward on the couch, one elbow resting on his knee and running his fingers through is hair. He set his drink on the table and turned to look at you. “What kind of question is that, y/n? You know I do!”

“Oh do I? You’ve never said it, not once!” You said as your tears were on the verge of spilling over.

He was speechless, a few strands of his dark brown hair fell down into his eyes. “I just—I can’t.”

“You can’t WHAT, Billy?” The tears finally spilled over and ran down your cheeks.

He was silent for a minute, trying to think of what to say to you, and he took your hand inside of his.

“I wish I could love you, I know you’re good for me, but I can’t.” He said.

The words that came from his lips infuriated you. “You CAN’T?!!!” Jerking your hand away from his, you stood up and headed for the door.

He seized your wrist and prevented you from walking any further. “Don’t leave, y/n! Please don’t go, baby.”

“Let me go, Billy.” There was acid in your tone.

He delicately dropped your wrist from his grasp and you walked out.

That was a month ago and here you sat in your bedroom, alone, staring at a four foot stuffed frog and it was staring back at you. You had barely left your apartment in the past month, and that was only because you had to go to work.

But that’s it, you’d go to work and come home. You didn’t want to see anyone, go out with your friends, or see your family. You were too much of a mess and didn’t want to explain anything to anyone. It hurt too much.

The first time you noticed someone watching you was on your way home from work one day about a week after you walked out of his apartment. He had an earpiece in his ear and was dressed all in black. He followed you to your apartment and then he would leave as soon as you went inside.

Someone made sure you got home from work safely every single day. No harm ever came to you, they just followed you home and left. The only thing that made sense was this was all Billy’s doing.

And yet every day, you would come home and just stare at that frog like it was some sort of magic conduit that was going to tell you that Billy was sorry and that he did love you. But his words just kept repeating over and over in your head “I wish I could love you.” At least if he told you he was just using you and there were zero feelings between the two of you, it would have been easier.

He took you out, you laughed together, you had fun together, and he even started opening up a little more about his childhood. He wouldn’t have done all of that if he didn’t have feelings for you.

There was still no contact with him, he let you be but he still had people watching you to make sure you were safe, he always hated the idea of you walking anywhere alone.

At one point you acknowledged they were there and just started having them walk with you instead of behind you. They were pleasant, polite, did their job and left. You never mentioned or asked about Billy and they didn’t say anything either.

One rainy afternoon, there were flowers waiting for you outside your apartment door, a vase full of beautiful lilies. There was a card also, inside the envelope it said “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry is still not I love you, Billy Russo.” You said out loud inside your apartment. You didn’t know whether to be angry or sad, although both of those emotions seemed appropriate right now.

After setting the flowers on your dining room table, your phone started ringing. You didn’t recognize the number so you declined the call, but then they called again and again, you kept declining and after the fourth time, you finally decided to answer.

“What?!!!” You answered.

“Don’t hang up, sweet girl.” Billy said. “I borrowed Frankie’s phone.”

You walked into your bedroom to put your shoes away, the eyes of the stuffed frog followed you wherever you went in the room. “Why are you calling me, Billy? I don’t wanna do this, ok?!” You practically shouted into the phone.

“I wanna talk to you, y/n.” He said.

You snapped back at him. “Yeah well what the fuck do you wanna talk about?”

Walking into your closet, you heard a sudden knock at your door.

“Ah shit! Someone’s at the door, hold on.” You said.

When you opened the door, Billy was standing there with the phone still held to his ear.

“I wanna talk about how much I love you.” He said dropping the phone to his side, his under eyes dark with purple circles like he hasn’t slept since you left his apartment that night.

With your phone still held to your ear and tears in your eyes, your voice hitched as you said

“I’m listening.”

Tag List: @mindidjarin @saintmurd0ck @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind @snowkestrel @xdervyxccgh @mattmurdocksscars @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialams

If you’d like to be added to (or removed from) my tag list for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕

#billy russo x reader #billy russo imagine #billy russo angst #billy russo fanfic #billy russo #ben barnes #ericca’s 200 follower celebration

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sarioh · 11 months ago

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Hello Tumblr user Rio Sarioh! If you're bored; do you have a favourite book you like to talk about? What is it about, why do you like it? Or perhaps a movie or show of which you enjoy the writing? A fairytale? A poem?

Wow, creative writing. Any thoughts on that? Pretty swell, in my opinion.

Hope you have a nice vague nine hour time window and that your thing arrives in good condition!

HEY tumblr user tt04sty hope u r doing well and thank you for the ask. also my Thing has indeed arrived in good condition so thank god i didnt have to wait all day for it. to be frank questions about my favorite media make me feel like a deer in headlights bc for whatever reason whenever i get asked this i somehow forget every piece of media i've ever consumed or that has had an impact on me in any way and i don't know why. safe answer though is probably everything everywhere all at once which i know might come as an absolute shock to everyone (<- wrote a 16k word fic inspired by it) but generally just any media that is very Wacky and Surreal visual-wise but with a central theme of love and connection gets me really bad because i am very predictable and also a little pathetic. also as a gay asian living in the west with a very stereotypical asian mother you can probably understand why the movie had such an impact on me LOL.

also creative writing... i've only done one work of creative writing in the past few years and that was wind back the clock which i think about genuinely all the time. writing Character Study is the most cathartic and fun experience in the world to me and i prolonged publishing that for SO long because i just wanted to keep working on it forever. my writer's problem is that it takes me about 60 years to come up with an idea that i am captivated enough by to be able to put it into writing and actually stick to it for more than a day and that has only happened one single time in my 2 years in mcytblr. but by god i would kill a whole man to be able to do that all over again because i am regrettably a stem major and have not written an essay or anything else creative in years and while im enjoying it i do feel like im missing out on a crucial part of being a Person. i miss writing so much you have no idea. and i feel like the further i go into this Degree the more my Meta Analysis brain starts to rot and get replaced by Numbers and Formulas and Snippets of code. i'm losing my touch forreal

as far as other media goes... to be perfectly honest i have not been consuming much lately just because i have been very busy irl but i did just finish reading the red rising trilogy for the first time which was cool... also have probably watched about 200 hours of animal documentaries over the past few months LOL. actually on the topic of books i am going on a flight soon and will have a 9 hour stopover so if anyone has any book recommendations of ANY genre i would love to hear them. please tell me all of your favorite books i want to read them all

#this is kinda long sorry i sorta rambled.#really have Not watched as much stuff as i wouldve liked recently #other media that has changed me as a person that ive consumed semi recently... maybe disco elysium?? succession??#also tft. i cannot lie i have been playing an ungodly amt of tft. its really shameful #thank you for the ask though!!!!!! i feel like i didnt really answer ur question but yeah . sorry about that LOL

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sidekick-hero · 2 years ago

Text

Listen, the phenomenal @legitcookie wrote a little steddie gym!AU ficlet not too long ago that I love to pieces. That's why I couldn't help but add a little something in her universe. What can I say? You inspire me 🫶

I hope you like it, Jen 💜💜

Eddie and Steve are…friends. One day, they had been strangers and the next, boom. Steve had been his friend.

A friend who patted his shoulders, his back, and that unforgettable time even Eddie’s ass when Eddie had done an especially good job at squatting.

Who would have thought that was all the motivation Eddie needed to actually put the effort into his workouts.

Well, Eddie would have thought. He’s only human.

Point is, he and Steve had become friends.

And if they sometimes flirt playfully with each other – well, that doesn’t have to mean anything. Steve is a friendly guy and Eddie has working eyes and that’s all there is, thank you very much.

Because Steve is straight. Steve likes to talk about boobies. To Eddie. Who doesn’t really get the appeal but can’t say so because then Steve would stop touching him and flirting with him and he can’t have that.

So whenever Steve starts to talk about boobs, Eddie tries to just grunt or nod or say something vaguely appreciative.

“I just love the way they move, y’know. They’re so…jiggly? You know what I mean, right? Like, they’re soft but also firm.”

“Uh-uh. Yeah. Jiggly. Love that.”

“Right? It’s the best when they bounce while they sit in your lap, man. The fucking best.”

Eddie tries very hard not to think about Steve in his lap and how his manly tits would look with the glorious chest hair that keeps teasing him through Steve’s V-neck shirts.

“Eddie, are you alright? You haven’t said a word in, like, five minutes and you should maybe – “ Steve gestures to the left corner of his own mouth and Eddie mimics the gesture unthinkingly. His hand comes away wet. Gross.

“Yeah, uh – sorry. I was thinking about laps. Laps are – great. Really great.”

Steve looks at him with furrowed brows but doesn’t say anything else. Good save, Munson.

It’s later, in the locker room, when they're getting ready to take a shower, that Steve brings it up again.

“Why do you always act so strange when I talk about girls, man?”

Eddie drops the shirt in his hands.

He gulps and his voice is higher than usual when he asks “Strange?”

Steve gives him his bitchiest don’t-bullshit-me-man look. It’s very effective.

“I just don’t know what to say, really. That’s all.”

“Well, you could tell me what you like instead of just grunting or nodding along to what I say.”

Something about Steve’s tone irks Eddie. He says it like it’s so easy for Eddie to tell Steve 'I like to watch things bounce, too, Stevie – only, I’d rather watch a bubbly butt bounce in my lap than some tits.'

Oh, that would go over swell.

“You don’t really want to know what I like, Steve. You can tell me all about bouncy tits, I don’t understand what you need an answer for from me.”

“No, really, man.”

Fuck, the earnest puppy dog eyes TM. Eddie hates it when Steve pulls those. He’s powerless against them. “I really want to know, Eds. I thought we were friends. Tell me?”

Big, wet brown eyes, a mouth that's pulled down with shiny lips slightly parted.

Steve goes for the killing blow and Eddie drops dead at his feet.

“Dicks.”

“What?”

“Dicks. I like dicks. And butts. But yeah, there definitely has to be a dick involved, other than mine of course.”

Steve’s eyes are big as saucers as he stares off into the distance at that. It looks like he’s buffering, so Eddie lets him and tries to not spiral.

After what feels like forever Steve looks back at him. “But why?”

Okay, Eddie did not see that one coming.

“I don’t know? I just – do. Why do you like boobs?”

“I just told you upstairs. I like how they look and how they feel when I touch them. How a girl will go crazy when I play with them just right.”

Eddie can see it and even if the boobs in the equation do nothing for him the thought of Steve’s lips wrapped around a nipple while his big ass hands are full of pliable flesh?

Good thing he still wears his shorts.

If Steve wants Eddie to paint him a picture, Eddie can do that. Screw it.

“Yeah, right. Well, same for me. Just, y’know, with dicks. I like to look at them, like to see how much the other dude wants my touch. How hard and hot their flesh is when I get my hands on them, how silky the skin of their dicks feels. Most of all, I like how it feels in my mouth. Or in my ass.”

Steve’s eyes drop to Eddie’s lap and Eddie’s dick gives a treacherous twitch like it wants to say hello to Steve so bad. Down, boy! Eddie thinks.

“I never – “ Steve gulps and his Adam’s apple bobs convulsively like his mouth is too dry to really swallow. He’s still staring at Eddie’s dick where it’s slowly thickening inside his shorts. Such a whore for attention, his dick. Eddie knew it would get him into trouble one day.

“You never what, Stevie?” Eddie just has to ask, has to poke the bear. His survival instincts had always been for shit.

“Never thought about it like that.” Steve's eyes snap back up to Eddie’s. “Can I see?”

Eddie laughs. He can’t help it, the situation is absurd. “Why would you want that? You have one yourself or have you forgotten that?”

The blush on Steve’s cheeks is a delicious red and Eddie’s sure his skin will be hot to the touch. He wonders how deep he can make that blush go. But despite the embarrassed red in his cheeks, Steve's eyes are nothing but determined.

“No, ‘course not. But it’s different when it’s not your own, right. So, show me yours. I wanna know why you like it so much.”

The. Fuck.

Eddie has no idea what's happening here. It’s crazy. It’s stupid.

He has to do it.

So, Eddie whips it out.

And Steve?

Steve gasps and says "That's a penis!"

Eddie stares at Steve in disbelief before cackling like a maniac. “You – fucking – asshole” he gets out between gasps for air, still laughing.

Steve is laughing, too. He laughs so hard tears are streaming down his hot red cheeks.

“Sorry, man. Really. I just – your face, man.” Steve leans on Eddie’s shoulder, unable to stand up any longer by himself.

When they both come down from their laughing fit, Eddie realizes the position they’re in. They’re both shirtless and Steve is almost draped over his front, leaning his weight on Eddie. Eddie’s shorts are down his thighs and he’s still holding his half-hard dick in his hand.

Steve rests his forehead on Eddie’s shoulder and looks down at it.

“I don’t know, I don’t think I see why you would like to look at it. It’s just – not pretty?”

Eddie makes an offended noise and Steve backpedals. “No, I mean, dicks are just not pretty. Not yours specifically. Sorry.” And he does sound sorry – like he somehow hurt Eddie’s feelings.

He did, kind of. But that’s not Steve’s fault. “It’s fine, really. You don’t have to like them.”

“Never said I didn’t.”

Eddie must have heard wrong. “What?”

“I never said I didn’t like them. Just that I don’t think they’re pretty. But I want to find out if I like – what you like. How they feel. What they can do.”

Steve kisses Eddie’s bare shoulder and goosebumps erupt all over Eddie’s pale skin.

“It can do something, right?” Steve asks as he pokes Eddie’s dick. It twitches slightly at the contact and Steve makes a satisfied sound in his throat.

Eddie quakes. “Excuse me. I show you what it can do, alright.” He huffs indignantly.

Steve grins like the cat who caught the canary.

“Yeah, I fucking hope so."

Steve puts his shirt back on and saunters off towards the exit. "Come on, we can shower at mine. After you showed me what it can do.”

________________________________

I hope you like it, Jen 💜💜

Inspired by a talk I had with my gym buddy @baronsamediswife (yes, we really do talk about these things at the gym, oopps).

Also shout out to @yournowheregirl for making some excellent points about boobs on our Discord.

#steddie fic #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #my writing #this is not beta read at all #just a little indulgence for my favorite cookie in the jar #Steddie ficlet

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fatguarddog · 3 months ago

Note

hi! i love you content and have been absolutely obsessed with your blog lately! i’m just getting into feederism and was wondering if i could ask you a question? this is kinda generalized question, but..

i was just wondering, but what do feeders like the most? their feedies gaining the weight/ watching them make their bodies fatter, the process of them getting stuffed with food , or do they just like watching the feedies eat. or is it something else? or is it just preference? if you don’t mind i’d also love to know your opinion on this as well!

if you answer this i very much appreciate it!! i hope you have an amazing day/ night!🤗 keep up the amazing content 💕

Hey thanks! First off, most people I know here prefer feedism since 'feederism' puts the emphasis on the feeder when it's a dynamic that goes both ways, just a good thing to know!

Secondly, I mean I can literally only speak for myself? I've done some feeding irl and I just enjoy the swell of a stuffed round belly and the state someone gets in when they're all food drunk and heavy. I like helping someone eat/actively stuffing them more than just watching someone eat tbh

#hutch answers #anon #stuffing #weight gain

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blueberryinko · 1 year ago

Text

Juicy Labour

A story done for the great @gimmeabigpush who I’m very grateful for for letting me use her midwife OC, Sara and her spouse, Syd.

Sara waddled towards the living room. The twins were sitting in a good position, though with them being right against her pelvis, it made her back ache some. Her partner, Syd was nearby, playing with Sloane. Sara was a couple days away from giving birth, and they needed to discuss their birth plan.

“Hey honey.” Sara murmured, sitting herself on the sofa with a sigh. She felt like a balloon, her stomach tight and heavy with the twins. Syd let Sloane play on the carpet, joining Sara at her elevation. “You feeling alright?” They asked her, concern etched on their features. “Yeah, just had to pee for the eleventh time today.”

Syd chuckled. “You’ve dealt with a lot more than that babe.” They remembered the various predicaments with Sara’s previous pregnancy, and while she wouldn’t have changed anything, she would sure have liked it a little easier.

“We need to talk about the birth plan.” She told Syd, who agreed with her. “So, another home birth like we discussed?” They confirmed with Sara, who was checking her bag for everything they might need, pads, fluids and other things. They’d prepped the nursery two months earlier, thank God, and were ready for their new arrivals. “Yep, and we have the other midwives on speed dial.”

Syd seemed cautious about something, which Sara noticed. It wasn’t like them, so she gave them a quick but gentle prod to the thigh. “Hey, what’s up?” She noticed Syd’s cheeks flushing rose, and she wondered what they could possibly be thinking about. “Sorry hon, it’s silly, don’t worry about it.” They reassured her, but Sara was insistent. “We don’t have secrets, remember? You can speak your mind around me.”

“I know. I was just wondering something the other day. We watched that old Charlie and the Chocolate Factory movie, right?” Sara wondered where they were going with this, but concentrated as Syd continued. “When we got to the Inventing Room and the whole blueberry thing happened to the girl, you said “That’s me on the way to the Delivery Room.” And I, well..” Sara was starting to understand where their mind was, snuggling closer. “Yeah?”

“I have a thing for it.” Syd admitted. “Not the scene like that, but the thought of you swelling up like that. I did some looking around on the internet, and Walmart does a gum just like it.” Sara thought of herself like that, big, blue and round. She’d imagine she looked ridiculous, but something about the way Syd said it stirred something in her.

“Okay, do we know if it’s safe for pregnant women to have?” She asked. Syd scratched their head. “I had a glance at some of the reviews, and they said it was mostly safe, but if you want more research I’m open to it?” The hope in Syd’s voice had Sara wanting to fulfil this desire, and she leaned over them, getting the laptop.

After browsing for around twenty minutes, Sara hummed. “All the studies say it’s good to go for pregnant women, there’s even a doctor here that says the usage of it is even beneficial in labour.” She remarked, impressed by the findings. The twins kicked, movement showing atop her shirt. “Seems they agree too.” She joked. Syd’s face was so much brighter now, and Sara made sure to memorise it. She loved when they were as happy as this.

“Alright, so changes to the plan then. I’ll go and get the gum tomorrow, and then when I go into labour, Sloane goes around the neighbours’, yeah?” Sara planned out. She was going to make these little ones’ entrance into the world special. Syd wiped a stray tear, kissing her cheek. “I love that idea.” They enthused. Sara once again let herself fade into a fantasy of herself as a blueberry again for one more moment, and knew she wanted to do it.

She’d purchased the gum. It had been sitting in her pantry for the last two days when Sara felt the first proper twinges of labour. “Babe,” She signalled to Syd, who gave her a look. “Yeah, go time.” She said at their look. Syd kissed her cheek, and Sara gave them a slightly pained smile. “Go take Sloane around next-door, and I’ll prep the gum, yeah?” Syd hugged her, rubbing her bump. “You got this, okay? And if you wanna back out at any point, tell me.” With Sara’s promise in mind, Syd took Sloane next-door.

Sara felt hot, sweat beading at her chest. Looking down at her clothes, her top and shapewear leggings, she wasn’t sure they’d survive the expansion, choosing to strip down to her underwear. Her jeans were a small struggle, but eventually they were off, and she padded to the pantry, retrieving the gum.

“Expansion will be slow-acting, pumping recommended for pregnant consumers…” She read carefully. “If needed, call Oompa Retrieval Team for emergency assistance- really, they exist?” Sara blinked, chuckling to herself. One of the twins shifted minutely, and she groaned. “Ouch, you!” She murmured. “You’re gonna be a boxer when you’re older, aren’t you?”

She moved back to the living room. She’d read there would be quite a large amount of leakage, so they’d made sure to move the rug and replace it with a plastic covering. And if needed there was the pool set up in the other room.

Syd returned from the neighbours, practically vibrating with anticipation. “Everything good?” They asked, their pink dress fitting their form snugly. Sara liked that one very much, “Everything is perfect.” She replied. Syd beamed, giving her another tight hug, kissing her enthusiastically. “You’re amazing…” They breathed, marvelling at their wife. Sara smirked, “I know,” she joked. Unwrapping the gum, she felt a slow contraction roll through her. “Here we go.”

Popping the gum in her mouth, it took a moment for the flavour to hit, but it really did a moment later. “Oh, wow!” She murmured, swallowing a mouthful of juice. “It really is blueberry! I know that sounds dumb, but that’s a lot!” She giggled, feeling a little fuzzy around her body. Syd’s jaw dropped slightly, and Sara wondered what they saw. “C’mon, how do I look?” She asked, slightly nervous.

“Your nose is turning blue…” Syd’s awed tone made her blush, and she checked her reflection. Well, she was more blushing purple now anyway. Indeed it was, her belly also gaining a plush cobalt hue, spreading slowly up her body. A light pulse ran through her, not painful in the slightest. “Syd.. I think that was another contraction, but..” She placed a hand to her belly, testing it gingerly. “It wasn’t painful..” She stood there, watching as the blue tint painted itself over her entire body, looking like an alien when she checked herself in the mirror. Even her eyes had turned violet.

“That’s amazing!” Syd was fascinated. Here was their wife, swelling up for them while in active labour, and she looked like a goddess. “It must have some form of epidural effect.” Sara sat on the couch, a little surprised when her ass hit the fabric a couple seconds before she expected it to. “My ass is getting bigger too!” She commented, poking the plush cheeks. She’d had wide hips before, but now that her butt was starting to outgrow her underwear, they were even wider than before.

Syd sat on the couch with her, rubbing her belly as they dipped two fingers into her panties, checking her dilation. “A centimetre. We have a while yet.” They guessed, and Sara huffed, laying back as her stomach distended further. “Feels like Thanksgiving dinner..” She rubbed her belly as the twins shifted again. She wasn’t certain, but she thought she might feel her womb expanding too, giving the babies more space. “Oh, babies..” She rubbed her hips, her shoulders getting chubbier. “How does it feel?” Syd was curious, in awe as they patted Sara’s tummy, watching as their hands got further apart as she grew.

“Like.. like I’m really stuffed, but all around..” Sara was surprised at how pleasant it felt. “Like I’m in a hot tub, but the hot tub is me…’ She heard gentle sloshing from her body and sighed, the couch creaking below her. Wet spots appeared on her bra, purple and sticky. “O-oh! I’m.. lactating juice?” She shouldn’t be surprised, the reviews had told her that online, but all it felt was similar to letting down milk. “Syd, help me get my bra off?” She requested. Syd slowly eased Sara forward, taking note of the juice starting to fill her back muscles. “Almost there Sare-bear.” Syd comforted, popping off Sara’s bra with a quick unlatching of the pin.

“Oh! That felt so much better,” Sara let out a breathy moan, a hand going to her back. A dull contraction rippled through her again, and she breathed deep. “Ooh..” Syd came around her front again and kissed her. They both looked down at her breasts, noticing her leakage. “Well, it’s not juice, it’s more.. blueberry milk?” Syd commented. Sara laughed at the absurdity of the situation, poking her boob. She gasped at the sensitivity, another spurt of milk releasing from her nipple. “That feels so weird. It’s like I’m pumping but it’s doing it all on its own.”

“You’re amazing, mama.” Syd got down on their knees, massaging spots on Sara’s belly that were becoming supple and taut. “How are you feeling? Want me to check again?” Sara cooed, her biceps becoming slightly stiff as they billowed with juice. “Feeling good, feeling.. oohhhh…” A slower, powerful ripple coursed through her body, a low, primal moan escaping her lips. “So plump.. check me again.” She said. “This baby’s impatient.” Syd angled Sara back. Her belly was big enough that it looked as if she were carrying quintuplets instead of twins, and they had to dive a little underneath to check.

“Two centimetres hon. You’re doing great.” Syd emerged from around her belly, and Sara whined. “I wish it was going faster.” Syd chuckled. “I know hon, but you can’t rush, remember? Take your time, you’re running this whole thing.” Sara nodded, feeling impatient. “I know, I know.”

Sara felt her hips widening and slid her thighs outward, her hands digging under blue, fruity flesh to separate them, groaning. “Could-could you get the birthing ball hon?” She asked Syd, who was more than happy to oblige. They ran off for one moment. She could feel leakage from below, but this was different. It definitely wasn’t amniotic fluid, instead it felt sticky and.. juicy? “H-huh.” She was leaking from both zones. She probably should have expected that.

Syd returned soon after, and Sara attempted to get up from the couch. A literal ton of juice kept her from doing so, pinning her to the cushions. “Oh Jesus!” She huffed, her body jiggling and wobbling. “Syd, h-help again…” She felt like she was making so many demands of them, but Syd was more than happy to help. They grabbed her arms, beginning to lift her off the couch. “Okay, we’ll make it like a pendulum, yeah? Back,” They rocked her back into the couch, then pulled her forward again. “Forward.” She went forward, lifting a little off the couch.

“Back,” Syd coached as Sara was heaved back onto the couch, and like a swing Syd then used the bloated flesh of her back to bounce her off the coach, falling forward into their chest. “Forward!” They groaned as she stumbled, her cervix stretching wider as Sara lost balance. “Whoa, shit!” She squealed, though Syd’s sturdy arms wrapped around her fluffy, juice-ballooned tummy, feet driven into the rug to keep her from falling over. “You’re okay, you’re alright.” They comforted as Sara moaned.

“Feels.. feels good, feels really.. really low…” Sara was sweating, but every contraction that rumbled through her felt like a weird form of watery massage, dropping the babies further down into her pelvis. Her thighs were being absorbed into her juicy, expanding form. “C-can you.. please?” She waggled her hand, pointing around her hip vaguely towards her underside. “Yeah, sure baby,” Syd murmured. To hold her upright, one of their hands stayed wrapped around her torso, the other holding up her underbelly as they kneeled underneath her.

Moving their supporting hand, they used their fingers to check Sara’s cervix. “Okay hon, four centimetres!” They shouted up to her. “You’re doing so freaking amazing, you know that?” They encouraged her as Syd rose back up. “I think we need to set you on your belly, you’re gonna fall over at some point, or you’re gonna end up literally on your crotch.” They told her. Sara was so big, so pregnant, so berried up it took a lot to even move. Her shoulders, biceps were long gone, and she was left with her tiny forearms waggling as her calves started to buckle.

“O-okay baby, you got me?”

“I got you,” Syd confirmed, and slowly, very carefully, they lowered Sara onto her belly. “How’re you feeling?” They asked her. Sara cooed. “Big.. just.. very.. very big.” Syd chuckled, massaging the taut spots where her skin had gone firm. “You look it, no offense.” They joked. “None taken,” Sara assured, knowing how accurate Syd’s observation was. Her limbs swelled to vanishing point, swallowed up by her turgid expanse as her hands and feet settled into divots, her womanhood filling out and finishing the transformation. “Hoooohhhh..” She huffed, her eyes rolling back in her head a moment.

“Fuck, feels good…” Sara bit her lip, her toes curling at the sensation of hundreds of gallons of juice crashing around inside her. The first baby was right there, wanting out and yet Sara could still feel she wasn’t dilated enough. Syd stayed around her front for a few minutes, rubbing her breasts, which sat on the floor leaking into the plastic cover. “Yeah? Our babies?” They asked, their fingers pressing into her plush, taunt sides and making her moan. “F-first one is literally right there.. need opened up…” Sara explained, a pleasant contraction rolling through her like she’d swallowed an ice cube.

Syd thought for a moment, before coming to a conclusion. “Okay hon, I’m gonna put you on your feet, yeah? I’m gonna see if we can get you waddling for a bit, how about that?” Sara wondered if she’d even be able to waddle at this point, her feet were so far apart and so immobile as she currently was she failed to see how she’d move even a couple steps.

Syd’s hands went to her breasts again, and began to lift them. They had to dig their feet in to get Sara rolling upwards, and as she felt her toes touch the floor, Syd moved their grip to her belly, pressing down as gently as they could, and with as much force as they could muster, helped Sara’s give move backwards, and the juice inside her finally displaced, putting her back on her feet. Sara gasped, feeling the balls of her feet finally back on solid ground and marvelled at the feeling of so much weight shared in all areas of her circumference.

“O-okay, starting to waddle now.” Her belly was most certainly leading the way. It was almost like pre-transformation, but instead of her legs going to either side of her belly, it was her feet having to literally hop and rotate her entire body a step forward, then rotating her body again and landing the other foot that other step forward. She got the hang of it, but the weight of the tons of juice inside her meant she was sweating juice by the bucketload, and as she moved around the tarp, she felt her cervix widening.

“Syd, Syd, Syd, oh.. God, it’s working..” She was in ecstasy, the epidural effect of the juice making the experience practically painless. She was already getting tired of waddling, and she felt so much pressure in her labia. “Back on my belly, back on my belly..” She urged. Syd was quick to move around her back area, and Sara stopped waddling, letting Syd roll her back onto her belly. The gravity had helped, and as she felt Syd’s fingers dip into her folds, she gasped.

“Nine centimetres, you’re so close!” Syd congratulated. Sara felt powerful, she was as big as a small smart car, and just as wide, and yet she’d never felt more alive. “Almost there!” She replied, breathing in rhythm as she flapped her hands in their divots. She got an idea, trying her best to rock the juices around inside her.

Slosh, churn, gurgle.

Her body was loud, and yet serene. Her body rocked like a cradle, and Sara felt her cervix widen once again. “Oh my God, I’m gonna push!” She exclaimed, already bearing down. Syd was in position, and watched as Sara began birthing their second baby. “Here we go hon, I’m right here.” They coached her. Sara remembered all the other births she’d attended, remembering her own teachings. “Feels decent, feels like a bowling ball inside me.” She stated, sweat beading her forehead.

“Mama bowling ball and baby bowling ball, huh?” Syd joked. Sara giggled, she must look absolutely ridiculous. Another contraction rippled through her, and she bore down, setting her jaw. She felt something happening down below, and gasped, realising what it was. “S-Sara.. you’re crowning..” Syd felt their jaw drop, watching as the head began to emerge.

“Y-yup, I feel them!” Sara was very well aware of it, but this time it felt bizarre. Last time she gave birth, it’d felt like a ring of fire, like all the stories, but this felt more like pushing out an air bubble, in a strange way. She dripped juice from her folds, and Syd massaged her pubic mound, a slow v-motion making sure the baby was comfortable as it began slipping out. “How’re we doing back there?” She asked. Syd called back over in a joyful tone. “So well Sara, c’mon honey, you got this!”

She stayed right where she was, not that she could move of course. She felt her pelvis shifting, her feet curling as her entire body tightened. It was like she had been plump and taut, now she was as hard as steel, her entire body focused on getting the baby out of her. “Low sounds, c’mon.” Syd coached, and Sara groaned. “Out of me, c’mon baby!” She urged, pushing down. Her lips bulged, and she felt the baby right there, right at her entrance. “Come OOON!” She shouted, and she felt the baby’s head leave her with a gush of juice.

She heard a loud cry, and let out a sob of relief of her own, beginning to tear up in earnest as she pushed the rest of their body out. “And there’s one!” Syd announced as they carefully cut the cord, helping Sara to push the remainder out. Once they were certain everything had been safely extracted, Syd brought their second child around to Sara’s front.

“Oh, hello baby!” Sara gasped, setting eyes on their baby. “Hello Vee!” She watched as Syd took the baby to their crib, cleaning them off and making sure they were settled in their basin. Now it was time for the twin.

Sara felt different with this one though. The second baby was being stubborn and slow. Syd returned to her in no time, and watched her brow furrow. “Hey, hey, what’s up?” They questioned, concerned. Sara whined. “They’re not coming fast enough,” She wept. She wasn’t in any pain, but the pressure of bearing down was getting to be a bit much. Syd grabbed the towel, wetting it with some cold water and pressing it to her forehead. “Hey, hey, every birth is different. And you’ve been a fucking star through this whole thing.” They reassured her.

The hormones were getting to her. “Oh Syd!” She sniffled. “I feel so good, but this is taking so long, I want them here with us..” Syd shushed her gently, putting their forehead to hers. “You got this, you have this all in hand, you know that?” Syd was in awe of their wife and what she had done for them tonight. “You blew up like this all for me, on such short notice. I was sure you’d say no and I would’ve been completely fine with it, but you just stormed right ahead. You’re a freaking legend, Sara, and I’m so lucky to have you.”

Sara bawled, though soon calmed herself, letting out a small hiccup. “A-any ideas for how we can get this moving?” She asked, wondering if some gravity would help. Syd hummed. “I have an idea. Remember how the girl in the movie was rolled around?” Sara let out a wheeze, what else could happen today that they hadn’t thought of already? “Alright honey, just be delicate, please?” She requested.

Since she was already on her belly, Syd meandered around to Sara’s side, their hands going to her sensitive skin. She cooed, another contraction rumbling through her. “Hooohh…nnnnfff…” The strange pressure felt like a water balloon in her gut, and she breathed through it. Syd stopped. “You sure about this?” They checked with her, to which Sara nodded. “I’m sure, roll me.”

Syd’s hands on her felt weird as her weight gave, and her vision began to spin. The juice spinning inside her was colossal in both motion and sound, being rolled around the living room in circular direction. “Whoa..” She gasped, flapping her hands. The vertigo was unreal, and she listened to the churning and gurgling emanating from her innards. “It’s like I’m a beer keg.” She felt the comparison was apt, and Syd chuckled.

“You wouldn’t be out of place in a Venusian wine cellar then.” They joked. Sara giggled, and then went quiet as another contraction pulsed. It ached a little, but she was handling it. “Alright, alright, alright.” She huffed, balling her fists. “Put me on my lower belly please hon.” She stated. The doorbell rang, and Syd quickly set Sara on the tarp before attending to the door.

They came back a moment later with three bags of McDonalds, to Sara’s confusion. “The neighbours ordered dinner for us again. We’ll pay them back for everything, right?” They asked her. Sara felt tears dripping down her cheeks again, nodding furiously. “How is Sloane?” She asked.

“They’ve been set down for the night, had their food and was very well-behaved.” Syd confirmed. “They’re absolutely fine.” Sara sighed in relief. She missed their eldest baby, and couldn’t wait for them to meet their siblings. “I didn’t tell them about your current state though.” Sara was grateful for that, despite liking her new form, she wasn’t sure it was something she wanted to share yet, maybe ever. “Thanks babe. Thank you for being so good with me.”

“Of course, you don’t need to ever thank me just for helping you.” Syd said. “You’re running this so well, and our next little one is almost here. Just a little longer huh?” Sara nodded, breathing. Soon, she felt the next head pressing at her labia. “Oh, shit, here they come.” It was like the head suddenly slid into place, and she cocked her head. “Okay Syd, that rolling around dislodged them, I think. I’m ready.” Syd nodded, heading around Sara’s underside.

Working her feet in their divots, Sara attempted as best she could to widen her stance. Her body was vibrating, shaking. “Nnnfff come on baby!” She encouraged. “Just come down, come to Mama and Bibi..” She bore down again, and felt her lips bulge. “That’s it Sara, come on.” Syd murmured. Sara blew air out through her cheeks, puffing them out. “D-do we have some noise? L-like ocean noises or something?” Syd hummed. “I think I’ve got a meditation playlist, hang on.”

Syd grabbed their phone from the sofa, opening Spotify. “Rain noises?” They asked. Sara nodded. The soothing sounds of a thunderstorm soon filled the room, and as evening began to set in the windows, the lights came on. Sara pushed again. She was exhausted, but she knew beyond a doubt she could do this. “Come on Supermom..” She joked, feeling a sense of power flooding her form. She growled, bearing down as the head bulged her lips.

Syd worked her linea viola, feeling the movements coming from her womb. “They’re in a good position, head-first, shoulders right there.” They confirmed. Sara moaned at their touch, continuing her routine. “Burger please?” She requested. She had been fed all her fries already, but she was saving the burger for now. Syd fetched it for her after washing their hands, feeding her. “They’re right there.” She muffled through her chewing, nuzzling against Syd’s cheek. “So close…”

“I know babe, I know. You’re so strong, just focus on me and my voice.” Syd was enamored with their wife’s body, her pushing and the low, primal noises, guttural and straight from the throat as she pushed. As Sara finished off her burger, Syd slipped back around her undercarriage, ready to help with the baby.

Sara moaned again, determined. The baby began bulging out of her lips, and she let out a frustrated yell. “I can do this, c’mon!” She even balled her fists, pulling them further into her body and sucking in her feet like that would help. It was actually doing so, the pressure being focused downwards into her birth canal. “Rrraaaaarrrgh!” She yelled, and with a pop and a gush of fluids, the baby’s head emerged from her body.

“Oh!” She yelped, a sudden pang of ecstasy making arousal flood her entire body. She felt Syd latch onto the baby as it kept emerging. Every slight push got the shoulders further out, and she was progressing quickly, looking like it was ready to tumble right out. “Oh my God, that’s fast!” She gasped. Syd was making sure the baby was all good, noting no cord yet, which was a good sign. “Yep, but fast is good, you’re doing great.”

Sara hummed, bearing down yet again with a mighty heave, her body bucking gently as she pushed. “Okay, okay, got it got it got it!” She groaned, the shoulders emerging and then the torso. One last push had to do it, right? “Come on Sara, you’re so nearly done!” With those final words of encouragement from Syd, Sara’s brow furrowed, and she yelled. “Come on come OONN!” She yelled, and with a final burst of fluids and blueberry juice, the final baby tumbled right into Syd’s hands.

“Sara, you did it! Our little Bree is here!” Syd crowed, and both parents burst into tears yet again. While Syd cleaned up the baby, Sara pushed out the final bits of afterbirth, the cord having been cut cleanly just minutes before. She grunted and groaned, liquid gushing from her vagina and dripping down her belly. The tarp she’d been positioned on through the whole of her labour was undoubtedly ruined, soaked with blueberry juice. She was exhausted, and yet so proud of herself.

Syd opened the window. “The twins are here!” They announced, the whole street hollering and whooping with a loud cheer from the neighbours. Sara laid there on her belly, still round. “So, when does this die down?” Syd approached her again, rubbing her sides. “In a day or so, or we could pump it out of you tomorrow. Which one would you prefer?”

“Ehh.. wait a day or so.. I’m shattered.” Sara yawned. It had taken an entire day for the twins to arrive, but now they were finally here. “Yeah? I’ll leave you to it. You did it!” Syd cheered, kissing her cheek. “Just go to sleep, yeah? I’ll handle the babies from here.”

Sara was more than happy to go to sleep, content in her new motherhood. Tomorrow they’d figure out which way they wanted to juice her, for now, she was knackered. Her eyelids shut, the cries of the babies fresh in her mind as a soft smile settled on her face.

#blueberry inflation #multiples pregnancy #hyperpregnancy #pregnancy kink #blueberry expansion #weight gain #roleplay #blueberryinflation #hyperpregnant #blueberryinko #birth kink

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sidekickjoey · 2 years ago

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Congrats on 3k! I realise I've somehow gone all this time and not followed you 🤣 Anyway I'd love a steddie ficlet 🍦 "Going somewhere, Munson?" Can't wait to see what you do with that and again congrats!!!

All good fam!! Thank you so much, I hope you enjoy this little bit of domestic fluff <3

🍦 – Send me a short prompt, get a Steddie ficlet

"Going somewhere, Munson?"

If you would've asked Eddie Munson where he would be over ten years after the Upside Down invaded his life, stole someone he cared about, painted him a murderer, and ripped a massive crack through his home, he probably would've laughed in your face before giving you a single guess. He never would have remotely suspected a life for himself after something as terrifying and Earth-shattering as that catastrophe of events. At least, not one that existed beyond the bars of a jail cell.

And yet, as he turns back to see Steve, his beloved husband (not in law, but in heart), staring over at him through hazy eyes in the dim sunlight of morning, comforter draped across his lap, Eddie cannot picture his timeline being anything other than it is now. His heart swells with love for his man, his little miracle of a find in the Upside Down chaos, and he smiles. By god, he smiles.

"Nosiness will get you nowhere, dear," he sing-songs, tipping his head to the side. "What if I was getting up to grab you a surprise? Would've ruined the whole thing, right there."

Steve lets out a small hum before collapsing back into his pillow, letting his hair flop in his face in one dramatic swoosh.

"Mmm, now that I know it's not a surprise, I'm not interested."

"Rude," Eddie fires back. They exchange giggles.

"If you must know where I'm going, we happen to have a very sleepy four year old that needs to wake up and let me braid her hair before school, lest she turn screamo on us."

"Can't she skip? I miss you."

Rolling his eyes, Eddie clears the space between he and Steve and bends down to place a quick kiss to his lips. Steve hums into it, the devil. Eddie finds it intoxicating, and he darn well knows it.

"As much as I would love to lead our daughter down the road of delinquency, I'm pretty sure the adoption agency frowns at sticking it to the man so soon, Stevie."

Steve sighs and lets out a long groan. "Fineee, fine. Wake up the munchkin. Leave me here to rot alone in this cold, cold bed, all lonesome, neglected!"

Eddie ruffles Steve's hair and boops his nose, stopping his tantrum before it starts. "Keep talking like that and I'll really give you something to pout about, babe."

"You wouldn't."

"I would," he replies, crossing his heart. "I'll go to school with the munchkin. You won't see me the whole day. Maybe I'll take her to the park afterwards as well, just to rub it in."

"Traitor."

"You know very well that my allegiance goes to her highness, the munchkin, first and foremost." Eddie boops Steve again. "Can't let anyone trying to sabotage that sacred relationship get away with it."

"Rude."

"Using my comebacks against me? Perhaps I'll also take her to the ice cream sho-"

Before Eddie can finish, Steve has him by the shirt and pulled down for a kiss. It's passionate, it's a bit messy, and it's more than enough to make up for the stalling he's been causing for the past few minutes, and Eddie loves it. He allows himself to enjoy it for a few seconds, knowing far-too-well how much they have to cherish these stolen moments now that they have a third member of their party taking up their time. He leans in, cups Steve's cheek, and really takes in how much he is still in love with this handsome boy, as well as how lucky he is to call him his, with each little noise and reach for Eddie he makes. When Eddie finally breaks away, he's over the moon to catch similar loving thoughts fluttering through Steve's sleepy head, too.

"I'll bring her in to say goodbye before we head off," he says softly, hand running through Steve's locks. Steve looks up at him with a love-drunk smile, so utterly devoted in the way Eddie will never, ever feel worthy enough for, compelling him to smile back.

"Good. Love you."

Getting up and making his way back to the door, Eddie genuinely beams as he rests his hand on the frame and confidently delivers his own, "I love you, too," over to Steve.

And how could he not, when that very love gave him so much - a husband, a delightful little kid, and a reason to get up out of bed in the morning?

He continues beaming with a warm heart as he gets to their daughter's room, just barely peeking his head inside.

"Good morning, your highness."

~~~~~~

Want to participate in the 3k celebration? Send in a prompt from here!

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #stranger things fanfic #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #this is all fluff truly #sidekick3k

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littlegodzilla · 2 years ago

Text

Here we go with another chapter!!

Hope you'll like it!

Enjoy!!

≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈

Protect You.

Russell Welch x Reader.

Mini series.

Chapter 4: Touch.

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort. Abortion. Bad Language. Memories. Fluff.

Words: 5000.

Summary: You're in the hospital and Russell is always at your side.

Taglist: @phoenixblack89 @browneyes528 @lilythemadqueen @darylsgarden @thefemininemystiquee @green-eyedladywrites @hail-yourselves @ruinedbythehobbit @xxtinasxxblog @ravenwings73 @spenciepoo338 @b-tchymoon @minervadashwood @darylssluttt @let-love-bleeds-red @ravendixon @livingdeadblondequeen @bringinsexybackk69

≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈

Chapter 4: Touch.

🛡💔🛡

The steady, soft beeping of the machines is the only thing you hear in the room. Russell is sitting in an uncomfortable chair next to your bed, his hands are clasped over his mouth, his brow furrowed, breathing so slowly it feels like he's not breathing at all, his knuckles are red and raw, but the dull ache in his body now doesn't give a shit. He's been sitting there for hours and you still haven't opened your eyes.

He got a good look at you once you were on the stretcher and they were taking you to the hospital; your face bloody, your eyes bruised, your lip split, your nose broken, your face totally destroyed, but your body was no better, your fingers twisted, broken from some blow, now your hand is in a cast, the swelling on your face is going down, all covered with small stitches, you suffered internal bleeding from the kicks Matt had been able to give you.

But that wasn't the worst of it.

"An abort?" Asked to the doctor when he went to tell them about your condition.

"Yes, the fetus wasn't very developed, she was possibly three weeks pregnant, but the strong aggression she had suffered caused it to detach and she lost it..."

"Son of a..." He holds himself in time and takes a deep breath. "Thank you doctor, I'll tell her when she wakes up..."

But he doesn't know how exactly to do that, it's going to be hard to process, he doesn't even know if you were aware of your condition. He remembers the dizziness and nausea you had been having those days before, you seemed pretty calm, so you must have been aware of your pregnancy. He closes his eyes tightly trying to think of something other than wanting to kill Matt, his brother shouldn't have intervened, you should have let him beat him to death right there and then.

"M-my baby..." He hears suddenly and lifts his head.

"Hey, hey..." Russell gets up from the chair approaching you.

"My baby... my baby..." You keep repeating.

Russell shivers and sits on the edge of the bed, with the care with which he always touches you, he reaches around your body to give you a gentle hug.

"I-I'm sorry, baby, but no...it didn't..." He is unable to finish the sentence, the lump in his throat preventing you. "I'm sorry..."

"Thank God..." You sigh with relief and smile.

Russell's heart breaks into a thousand pieces as he listens to you, as he watches the calm wash over you, a couple of tears roll down his cheeks, a smile forming on your mouth.

How much damage could he have done to you to make you want so badly to lose that baby?

Russell leaves the room as you fall asleep again, you are still weak, your consciousness comes and goes in long intervals of time and you fall asleep again. You haven't asked about your baby again either.

"Oh my God, Russell, I'm sorry." Monica says as he approaches her and his brother waiting outside in the living room. "I should have listened to you, I should have trusted your instincts, I didn't..."

"Stop, stop." He holds up his hands wanting to calm her down. "This is nobody's fault."

"What happened? What did they tell you?"

"She's going to need to stay in the hospital for a few days, at least this week..." He sighs. "She had an abort, possibly from the brutal beating..." Monica's horrified face gets his stomach churning, that was the reaction he expected from you.

"How is she? Have you told her?" Russell nods. "So?"

"She's... She's relieved..." He says in a whisper. "I-I don't know how long she'd been suffering, but that baby was clearly unwanted..."

"God..."

"We'll need your testimony, you know that, right?" Gabe doesn't want to sound insensitive but he has to put his brother on notice of what might happen. "You almost beat him to death, when he wakes up he might want to file a complaint against you."

"Let him do it, if I could I'd kill him right now."

Gabe and Monica don't say anything, they understand how he feels, possibly if he hadn't come to your aid when the police had arrived it would have been too late, but he shouldn't have charged him like that either, it could all turn against him, truncate the facts in such a way that it would look like Russell was to blame for everything.

"Do we know anything about her family?" he decides to change the subject, looking at his brother.

"They don't live in town, I've tried to get in touch with them, but nothing."

"I'll talk to her, maybe she has a number we can use." He licks his lips nervously. He needs a cigarette. "Monica, if I have to open a file or send a report on today..."

"I'll take care of that, for the moment you're her nearest family so... stay with her until she's at least conscious."

"Thank you." He nods and puts a hand to his pocket. "I need a smoke."

"Go, we'll let you know if they say anything new."

Russell leaves the hospital looking for a remote area to light his cigarette and take a long drag. He rubs his eyes with the palms of his hands to mitigate the stinging caused by the accumulation of tears, he has tried to hold them back as best he can, but he feels weak. He takes a deep breath in through his nose and sits down on the floor, taking another puff on his cigarette. Have you been through this before? How many times? Thinking about it again gets Russell's goose bumps.

"Fuck..."

💔🛡💔

When you open your eyes again, Russell is back beside you. A strange relief grips your chest. You're not at home, nothing was a dream, it's real, you're in the hospital, Matt went crazy, you managed to alert the security camera company, your baby...

Your baby is gone....

Hurts, you feel something tearing inside you, but you are unable to cry about it. You weren't willing to let a child grow up in such an environment, that Matt could hurt it too, no. That's for the best.

Carefully you move on the gurney, you feel your whole body weigh a ton, the constant beeping of the machines gives you a headache, your hand hurts where your IV is attached, not to mention everything you feel all over your body, there are some parts of it that you don't even feel anything, a tingling, nothing else.

"Take it easy." You hear next to you, Russell helping you turn around.

"Thank you..." You smile, or at least try to, your face is so puffy you're not sure if you're gesturing at all. "Hi..."

"Hi." He replays smiling a little, tucking your hair behind your ear. "I know this is going to sound stupid, but... How are you feeling?"

"Well... hurt all over and..." You want to touch your face, but Russell stops your movements and you see your cast arm. "Wow... now I understand the tingling..."

"Yeah... he didn't leave any bones behind." His voice sounds full of anger and rage.

"I'm sorry..."

"No, you don't have to apologize to me, this is not your fault... but I want to know something... Is this the first time this has happened?"

"Yes... he has never gone to these extremes before, he hasn't..." You sigh, you're not going to say he's a good person, because you know you can't defend him anymore. "He just went crazy..."

"What happened? What triggered all this?"

"He found a positive pregnancy test and my birth control pills..." You say with some embarrassment. "He's always wanted a child, that's why the house is full of baby stuff, but I don't... it's not that I don't like them, I just didn't feel ready and he didn't..."

"I understand, uh, it's okay, okay? You shouldn't feel guilty about anything that happened. He should never have laid a hand on you, not like that."

"W-what happened to him, did the police take him away?" you ask with curiosity and fear, Russell averts his eyes, playing nervously with his hands, you frown, or at least try to. "What's going on?"

"He... he was transferred to another hospital..." He clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck. "I-I set off the police alarm for your house, I work for the security company Stay Out." He confesses and your eyes widen. "I activated the smoke to throw him off and ran to your house..."

"Did he inhale a lot smoke?" you want to try to understand.

"No, no... it's not noxious smoke, it just throws off the burglar or whatever, what happened to Matt... it was me..." He confesses finally looking down at his hands.

"My God, Russell."

You're incredulous, his knuckles are still red, with some blood due to the fact that they still have sensitive skin and at any movement or rubbing he gets a new wound again, but the ex-cop doesn't care. He doesn't say it out loud, but he thinks about it. If it was to defend you, he would do it again without hesitation.

"Don't worry about any of that, okay? You need to rest."

"But you could get in trouble, your job and..." You shut up as you realize something bigger.

Russell has said that he works for the security company for the cameras installed in your house, that he triggered the alert. Which means that not only that time he's been behind the lens, but the other times Matt called with the remote on purpose so you could be seen while you were having sex. He liked that, it turned him on to think and know there was someone on the other end. Embarrassment is plastered on your cheeks with deep red and you pull the covers over your face wanting to escape those blue eyes that are now looking at you tenderly. Russell smiles and carefully pulls the sheets down to look at you again, picks up your hair and pushes it aside.

"Yes, I was there the other time too, that's why I went looking for him with that shed excuse." He tells you what you were already afraid of and it certainly doesn't make you feel any better. "I didn't say anything because I didn't want to make you feel violent, or that you thought I was spying on you." He assures you and a nervous chuckle escapes you.

"I'm sorry, it must have been a sorry sight..."

Russell wouldn't use that word. But he won't tell you what he's really thinking either.

"I didn't look, when I saw it was a false alarm I went to call you guys." He lies and clears his throat.

"Oh well, thank you..." You feel a little disappointed.

You didn't expect to attract him physically, it's clear that Russell may have other taste in women, that Monica girl he's told you about more than once, for example, but you at least expected to have caught his attention. But neither.

Russell drags the chair he's sitting in over to your bed, carefully takes your hand and strokes the back of it slowly. You look at each other and he smiles a little, you mimic his gesture, not pulling your hand away, enjoying his touch. It's those little gestures you had almost forgotten about that make your heart calm and your soul at ease, you can feel Russell's huge hand brushing your skin with his fingers and there is no malice or cruelty in any of his actions. Of course you are afraid of what he might have done to Matt, of what consequences that might entail, you are sure that the police will want to know his version of events to compare testimonies. She thinks of herself as a witness, but she didn't see anything, at least not after the camera was activated, everything is blurred in most of your memory.

"Russell..." You both raise your heads as you hear a third voice.

In the doorway is a young, blond-haired, blue-eyed boy, you remember him, it's Gabe your neighbor's brother. He's wearing a police uniform and looks uncomfortable standing there. You certainly don't think you must look the best in the world right now.

"What's going on?" Russell asks, not letting go of your hand.

"My superior called, he wants to know if you're conscious." He says your name and you swallow. "We need to report and write up the facts, this is clearly a case of domestic violence and..."

"I know how it works." He nods and sighs. "But she just woke up, couldn't you wait at least a few days?"

"You know the sooner the better, so as not to lose information."

"It's okay, I don't mind." You say trying to sit up on the gurney, Russell helps you by carefully pulling under your armpits and incorporating the bed with the remote. "I have some gaps though..."

"It's okay, every detail is important, but don't overexert yourself." Gabe asks you and walks over to you. "Would you rather we stay alone?"

"N-no, it's fine, I trust Russell..." You whisper feeling your cheeks heat up and he holds your hand again.

"Alright, tell me a little bit, how long have you known the assailant, Matt Williams?" he asks you and sets a recorder down on the table next to you.

"Well...Matt and I have known each other since high school, we started dating when I was fourteen...he's...he was the love of my life..." You whisper lowering your gaze.

"You never severed the relationship or had any violent disagreements that might incite his behavior against you?"

"No, no, we... we were always together, we went to the same university, we shared a student apartment, even, Matt was always jealous, but never... like this."

"When did the assaults start? Both physical and verbal."

"Maybe a couple of years ago... he always joked that I was a bit naive and stupid, but no malice, but since he talked about wanting to have children he... changed..."

"He didn't want to have children with you?"

"No, on the contrary, he wanted to, but I didn't feel ready, I tried to make him understand and it was the first time he hit me..." You squeeze Russell's hand unconsciously and he strokes your skin with his thumb. "I-I didn't think anything of it b-because I thought I was being selfish, after all, we were married, having a child was the next step, but..." You swallow and sniffle through your nose feeling tears come back to your eyes.

"Maybe you should give it a minute, Gabe."

"No, no, I'm fine, we can keep going..."

"Okay..." But the two Welch brothers give each other a look you don't see.

🛡🛡

The silence in the waiting room is dense and tense, the doctors have entered your room to do some more tests, heal your wounds and check that your hand is making progress, fortunately it is your left hand, if there was any atrophy it would not prevent you too much in your daily life. What a relief. Russell can't stop thinking about everything you've told Gabe while he was asking you the questions, your ignorance about what Matt was doing with you, the manipulation he exercised over you since you were young, how he kept tabs on you your whole life. Russell is now aware of why there is no phone to contact your family, he took it upon himself to keep you away from them, he doesn't know how or under what circumstances, but it's yet another piece of evidence. His legs twitch nervously as he continues to bite his goatee hair, Monica has been gone for a couple of hours now, work goes on and he can't neglect his own post, he has spoken to his superiors to update them on the whole situation and they have granted Russell a few days off so he can deal with you.

"What did you tell them?" He asks Monica.

"That your girlfriend has been assaulted and is in the hospital."

"M-my girlfriend? Why my...?"

"If I'd told them that you'd broken into your neighbors' house with a punch you'd be out on the street, Russell. You're welcome." She smiled winking at her.

"Yeah, thanks." He whispered lowering his head like a puppy that had just been scolded.

Yet now he's nervous about that too, he has to think about what he'll do after you get out of the hospital, will you move house? Will he move out so he doesn't inconvenience you? You know he works at the company, maybe you don't feel comfortable anymore knowing that he can see you, not always, that's what you don't know, but maybe you'll remove the cameras or something. He huffs running his hands through his hair, pulling it back, his hands feel a little sore from the contact, but those little pricks of pain manage to clear his mind. Maybe he should go to your house, clean up all the mess that would be there by the time you get back, he could even pack you a suitcase of clothes, for when you get out of the hospital.

"Hey, man." Gabe arrives at his side, and stops thinking. "The doctors say she's overslept and visiting hours are over for now." He looks at him apologetically. "Why don't we go home and you can clear your head a little?" He offers him.

Russell nods, getting up from the plastic chair. He would have liked to say goodbye, tell you he'd be back as soon as they opened for visiting hours again, but the door is locked and without a permit he can't get through, plus he's not your family, so his chances are reduced to zero. Almost like an automaton he follows his brother to the parking lot where he has the police car.

"Let's go to my place." He asks when Gabe starts up. "I want to bring her some stuff later." He explains and his brother nods.

"I've done some research on her." Gabe tells him when they get home after stopping to get something to eat.

"Did you find out anything?"

"Looking for information under her maiden name, I found a landline number from another state..." he looks at him as they sit at the kitchen table. "Maybe it's from a friend, from her parents' house..." He shrugs grabbing his food from the bag.

"It's possible... He manipulated her all her life, since she was a child..." he sighs remembering your words. "He turned her into a person completely dependent on him..."

"She was young and he was her first love, it doesn't always work out that way..." They continue to eat even though none of them are too hungry. "Do you think he had that much power to take her away from her family?"

"I don't think he forced her to stop talking to them radically; they're a young couple, newly married, they've moved to another city, another state. They need to adjust, you know what I mean?"

"Yes, give them space and freedom to raise their own family, but a mother never stops worrying, at least as a general rule. She would have called or tried to find out where her daughter lived."

"Maybe it wasn't a constant thing and he knew how to hide his bumps if they had visitors..."

"Maybe..." Gabe agrees, though not quite convinced. "Do you want us to try calling?"

"I'll talk to her first, I want to know what her relationship was with her parents, I don't want to create more stress for her."

His brother accepts his decision, with everything you've been through, there's no need to put more weight on your shoulders, so he'll let his brother do things his way, for the time being. After that, Gabe records Russell's testimony, asks him what he saw, when he called the police and especially why he attacked Matt. Russell doesn't hesitate to talk about what happened, to write what he saw, what he felt, why he acted that way, of course he bites his tongue not to say that he would have preferred to kill him, he knows that won't say anything in his favor. When she asks him if he saw any signs of previous violence, Russell tells her about the surveillance cameras, what he liked to do with you, she knows that if it comes out in court it will be humiliating, but the judge will need to know how twisted your husband could be, she tells him about your physical weakness and your own mental exhaustion, you always called yourself clumsy and weak, something he would surely have burned into your mind to make you feel that way. He doesn't need to go into detail about the bruises and how extremely thin you are because Gabe has seen that and will be able to document it as soon as you are somewhat more recovered.

💔💔

You wake up alone this time, the nurse has come in with a cart and your tray of food, you don't have much of an appetite, your stomach feels tight and you still ache from all the blows you took. The woman helps you to be comfortable on the stretcher and leaves the tray on the table.

"Take it easy, okay?" she says with a gentle smile. "If you're not hungry, it's okay." She reassures you and leaves you a small package of cookies before leaving.

You smile gratefully at her attention, but you close your eyes sighing, look at the tray still closed, so that the food keeps warm, your stomach churns and you feel nauseous. You shake your head and lie back down. You are not hungry. For the moment you prefer to keep your stomach empty. It's not the first time you've gone several days without food. You can hold on.

The bandage on your arm is heavy and uncomfortable, it hardly allows you to move freely, you know you can't go very far, but at least you'd like to be able to get up from the stretcher and take a walk around your room. Lying on the stretcher is killing you.

Every time you close your eyes the fear comes back to haunt you. You remember the moment you walked into the house and saw Matt with the test and your pills in his hand, you remember how his face turned into a sadistic grimace and he went crazy. Everything happened very slowly and at the same time tremendously fast, every blow that cut your breath you lived it in slow motion, as if you were not there, when you tried to run away your feet seemed unable to move, however, as soon as the camera was activated, everything made another sense. Someone was going to come to help you, the police would be there in a matter of minutes, it would all be over, you just had to hold on.

And your savior was Russell, that person you yourself pushed away because you didn't want him to intrude, because you didn't want someone else to know your truth, forcing yourself to see it. Yet he never left. Not completely. He stayed by your side as a good neighbor, a friend, Matt's colleague, spending more time at your house, stealing hours from your husband who kept him from laying a finger on you, became a shield between you and your abuser.

Now you are afraid. You fear that Russell will suffer the consequences for standing up to your assailant on his own, potentially cutting his life short, a stain on his record. He had been a cop, he had fought against people's evil, he had paid for it to the point of almost losing his life, he told you so himself. He could be a hero in many people's eyes, but with this action....

You sigh curling up under the sheets, playing with your cast arm and the hand where you have the IVs connected so the wires don't get tangled. You're tired again, your body constantly demanding sleep and rest, but you're afraid to close your eyes again.

You don't know how long you've been asleep when you hear the door open, you open your eyes slowly to find Russell creeping into the room, or at least trying to. Seeing you awake, he smiles apologetically.

"Hi."

"Hi..." You respond feeling suddenly, better.

🛡💔🛡

Russell has finished eating and talking to his brother, after the little interview, he has picked up the food dishes and laid down on the couch, one arm under his head, one hand resting on his stomach, eyes fixed on the living room ceiling, his head running a mile a minute. He feels his mouth tastes like blood, he's been biting the inside of his cheeks all day and has finally managed to get a wound. That doesn't mean that his nervous tic will stop. On the contrary, he bites harder now.

He hears a ringing over the side table, his eyes shoot over there, his cell phone lights up and goes off again, a message has arrived. He frowns, he doesn't expect anyone to contact him, but he still stretches out his arm to pick up the device. It's a message from Monica, he sits up on the couch and opens the contents to discover a series of numbers and letters. He gets a knot in his stomach as he reads the end of the message.

"The code for her cameras. Sorry."

Welch would like to call her and tell her that she doesn't have to do that, that she doesn't have to feel guilty, but at the same time he feels grateful. He sits on the edge of the couch as he turns on the computer, copies the code on a piece of paper he has right there and puts the phone down.

There's nothing to see, that's obvious. When he enters the code in the client section, the image reveals your living room. There's no one there, as expected, but everything is a mess. There are objects lying on the floor, broken things, clothes, blood, even Russell thinks he sees your crushed birth control pills on the floor.

He can't leave your house like this until you get back, it would be a harsh reminder and maybe that would set you back mentally. He turns off the cameras, keeping the code as a secret, and leaves the house to go to yours.

Again he doesn't need keys to get in. The garden door that connects to the kitchen is still open, so he takes advantage and goes inside the house. He opens and raises the blinds letting the air and sunshine flood the room. In the kitchen he finds the pregnancy test and when he discovers where the trash is, he throws it in. He grabs several garbage bags, your broom and vacuum cleaner and set about picking it all up as best he can. The blood stains aren't going to go away from the carpet, but Russell is sure he can talk you into replacing it with a new one, or a nice hardwood floor. He can help you with that, if necessary.

It's not quite clear to him how long it's been since he's set out to pick up your house, but the sun is getting low, which means it will be dark soon and he can come visit you. He checks the time on his watch and throws away the last bag of garbage before leaving the bins in the main part of the house so that when the truck comes by it will all be taken away.

His next task in going up to your room, he knows where it is as he has looked after you there on a couple of occasions. You always tried to dissimulate, but sometimes your fainting spells played tricks on you. He feels anger returning to his veins at the thought of that poor baby. It hasn't even had a chance. He shakes his head to get those thoughts out of his head. He opens his backpack ready to stuff some of your clothes in it.

"No, no." He says closing the drawer where your underwear is again. Yes you're going to need it, but he's not going to touch it without your permission, but... he opens the drawer again and pulls out some nice mint green panties with lace, he feels a tug, but now not exactly on his stomach. "Fuck, Russell, focus." He reproaches himself and closes the drawer again.

He grabs a pair of pants, a skirt and several t-shirts he finds in your closet, also a jacket and a sweatshirt in case you prefer something looser for the comfort of your arm. When he regains control of his mind and body, he closes his backpack and leaves your house on his way back to the hospital.

When he arrives at your room he stands still in the doorway for a moment, watching you through the glass, asleep, fully wrapped in the sheets. He smiles and as carefully as he can, opens the door to enter, but when he looks back at you, you are already awake.

"Hi." He greets you.

"Hi..." You reply, smiling a little.

"I'm sorry if I woke you up."

"That's okay... I don't sleep much either." You come clean.

"Why, are you in pain, do you want me to call a nurse?" he asks you worriedly and you shake your head.

"I'm a light sleeper, don't worry." You try to calm him down and sit on the gurney again.

"They brought you food." He says as he sees the tray on the table and takes off his backpack setting it aside. "Have you eaten anything?"

"No..."

"Why?"

"I wasn't hungry..."

"Hey..." Your name comes out of his mouth like a father scolding his little daughter. "You need to eat something." He tells you approaching the tray and removes the lid to reveal what's inside.

You both grimace at the same time. Russell has to admit that it doesn't look good at all, on one of the plates there is a lumpy green colored paste, on another there is an orange liquid with some little white balls on top.

"From what it says here, it's cream of vegetable and mango soup..." Again his face makes a strange grimace and you can't suppress a chuckle.

"My stomach can't seem to eat anything more solid."

"Go on, try it, it can't be that bad." He tries to convince you, grabs one of the bowls and a spoon. "At least one, then I promise I'll buy you dinner when we get out of here." He promises you.

You look at him in surprise, he doesn't seem to regret his own words, he is calm as he plays with the greenish mash before handing it to you. You pick up the bowl carefully and taste the first spoonful. No, it's not good, but you have to admit that it looks a lot nastier than it actually tastes. Russell doesn't look away, insisting with a waggle of his eyebrows that you keep eating. You sigh and agree, spooning yet another spoonful into your mouth.

"I can't take it anymore..." You gasp handing the completely empty bowl back to him, Russell smiles proudly and it makes you want to punch him. "I'm going to explode." You protest touching your belly.

The ex-cop drops the bowl on the tray and closes it leaving the forgotten mango soup in there. He picks up the packet of crackers and shows it to you, but you shake your head, your stomach won't take any more food. It's sad with how little you feel bloated, but your body has lost much of its capacity, appetite is going and well, as well as muscle toning. You look at your belly as it bulges slightly under your hospital gown. A sad smile forms on Russell's face, but he's relieved to know that at least today, you've had something to eat.

"I'll leave the cookies here in case you feel like them later, okay?" he says, setting them down on the table and picks up the tray of food leaving it on the cart outside in the hallway.

"Thanks, Russell." You smile again as he sits down next to you. "What did you bring in there?" you ask curiously when you see the backpack again.

"I brought you some clothes." He explains and you frown. "Yeah, I broke into your house...sorry." He scratches the back of his neck and clears his throat. "I cleaned up a bit..."

"Thanks, Russell, you shouldn't have bothered..."

"I couldn't leave it like that, I didn't want you, when you came home, to see all that..." He explains again and you smile nodding your head.

"What did you bring me?"

"Some jeans and some sweatshirt, depends on how your hand goes... I didn't bring you any... underwear..."

"Oh, sure... n-no worries."

You both remain silent, feeling your cheeks redden from the awkwardness of the situation. You glance sideways at each other and a chuckle escapes from both of you. You have to hold your ribs because you feel them hurt from laughing, but it feels good, relief enveloping you.

"You can go home, if you want, thanks for the clothes."

"I'll stay." He shrugs. "I'm staying with you until they let you out of here."

❤🛡💔

To be Continued...

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