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bluesidez · 3 months ago

Note

Hi! I saw your opening requests!

I was hoping for Miguel O’Hara x plus-size reader. Reader is a regular waitress who meets both Miguel and Spider-Man. Knows Miguel because he’s become a regular and Spider-Man because the diner gets robbed, but Reader manages to save herself. Also if the reader could have glasses that would be awesome!

It’s up to you! You’re the writer.

Also I just wanted to say I love your Gym rat Miguel series! 😁❤️💙❤️

[Dual]

lab taster: Anonymous Participant 🩻

pairing: Miguel O'Hara x PlusSize!Reader

summary: There's something strange about that guy in the corner...

content warning: fluffy, definitely suggestive at parts, I kind of take a bit from the comic books, but it's still the ATSV Miguel, Kasey Nash is here + a certain someone for like a millisecond, talks of violence, guns, and threats (but nothing too terrifying), also LOTS of mentions of food. like lotsssss

word count: 3.6k, halfway proofread

a/n: I started writing this as if she worked at a fancy restaurant, but then I realized you said diner, so I had to backtrack. ALSO THANK YOU FOR THE LOVE ON GYM RAT MIGUEL!!! 🩵

“I’ve never seen one man eat so much.”

You looked to where your coworker was staring, eyes landing on the man that frequents the corner of the dim dining room.

“He’s a big guy. He probably needs it,” you flipped through your pad in order to avoid looking at the person who’s been wrapped in your thoughts for a few months now.

He always comes in just when the afternoon is turning into evening and the sun kisses his skin through the window. Most days he looks a little tired, lost in thought as he waits for his food.

His order is usually the same: a double-stacked burger with a large fry and a black coffee. Sometimes, he’d substitute the meal with a heavy breakfast, pouring syrup over everything. Other times, he’d order pork chops and gravy with a slice of apple pie to take home.

He always looked a bit sheepish when he asked for a meal to-go, as if you would judge him openly for being a working man.

On the contrary, you wondered why he always came here. From the shine on his watch to the material of his clothes, you could tell he could afford better establishments to eat at.

“If you’re done ogling at him, you can bring him the check,” Kasey snickered at you. “He keeps looking over here and it’s freaking me out.”

“You just don’t like anyone but that flying bug guy.”

“That’s Mr. Spider-Man to you,” Kasey moved so that you could print out his receipt. “And he does something useful with his time like save civilians. That guy just comes in here and looks at you like he wants to eat you for dessert.”

“What?”

You turn to him again and he quickly looks out of the window, plastic cup pressed against his lips.

“I don’t think he even sees me like that,” you mumble, ripping the paper from the machine and placing it onto the clipboard. “He’s just a man who enjoys comforting meals and ambiance.”

“Yeah. An ambiance that starts and ends with you and your ass, maybe.”

An affronted “hey” goes ignored by Kasey who disappears to go serve another table.

She really shouldn’t have put that thought into your head, because now you’re more hyperaware of your actions than usual.

You wipe at your apron and pull your dress down before you head towards his table, steps a bit hesitant.

As you get closer, he looks back at you. Maybe he is interested, but maybe you’re a bit delusional.

“Here’s your check, sir. I hope you enjoyed your meal,” you placed the clipboard on the table. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

“No, thank you,” he holds up the check up with a small smile. “Maybe a name so I know who my tip is going to.”

Your fingers press against the frames of your glasses, pushing them up a little.

Did you forget to introduce yourself to him when you sat him down?

When you say your name, your confusion must have carried over to your face because the way the man brings his hands up is quick.

“Ah, it’s fine Mr.-“ you take a glance at his card, never mind that you’ve already memorized his name, “O’Hara.”

“Miguel is fine.”

“Mr. Miguel.”

“Just. Miguel is fine.”

You nod and smile. Miguel was fitting for a face like that, and your heart felt the same way as you completed his transaction and handed him his receipt.

The thought of him being interested in you was cute to imagine, but you didn’t want to get your hopes up.

Kasey taps your shoulder as she carries a coffee jug back to the machine, “Go clear your table. There’s a tip.”

With a routined step, you start to stack his empty plates. Napkins get thrown into the bin, and utensils are gathered.

A gasp leaves your lips as a stack of 20s reveals itself. A note wrapped around it says your name and “Thank you for always making my nights.”

Maybe Kasey was right. She could never know that, though.

It’s about a week or so before Miguel comes back.

Oddly enough, too much happened at the diner within that time.

Your boss was on your ass about splitting your tips with a manager that was never there. Creeps kept lingering around the corner during closing time. Your schedule was insane and you’ve hit your monthly limit of rude customers.

When Miguel comes in, it’s almost as if white angel wings were attached to him.

“What can I get you today?” you ask with a smile.

“I think just a black coffee to start off,” he looks over you. “New uniforms?”

You glance down at your dress, the neckline of it plunging severely low.

“Yeah. The boss thinks it’ll bring in more customers,” you yank at the back of the dress, still a bit nervous about how high the skirt is on your body. It’s tight in places that no uniform can should be, hugging your curves, and exposing your chest and legs. “I think he’s full of it.”

Miguel is silent for a while, eyes roaming in a way that you couldn’t quite discern.

“He definitely was onto something.”

You blink.

“Uh, is he- He’s not causing any problems for you, is he?”

“No. It’s all good. For now.”

He stumbles his way through his order, corned beef on rye bread with swiss cheese and sauerkraut along with some homemade potato spirals.

“Will that be all for you?”

“Yes, thank you,” he hides behind his coffee mug as you walk away.

While you wait for his order to be done, you watch Kasey run around and chat with some of your regulars. Despite how grumpy she could be, she was a natural at keeping the customers entertained.

Refilling the drinks for a few people at the barstools, your mind drifts to what Kasey is saying to one of the old geezers who’s keen on superstitions.

“I’m just saying, there has to be a motive for why he only strikes in the afternoon!”

“Are you sure he’s just not an idiot desperate for attention?” Kasey removes his empty plate and tops off his water. “Leaving notes with riddles? That’s so been-there-done-that.”

“Kase, I don’t think you get it, doll. His attacks have gotten more and more severe. He’s starting to target a specific demographic.”

A shout and a ding by the window lets you know that Miguel’s order is ready. You place an extra pickle on his plate just because.

Rounding the corner of the bar, Kasey is still bickering about the city’s most recent villain.

“Listen. If I’m ever in dire need,” she turns and sighs dramatically at a news segment featuring Spider-Man flying across buildings, “I know who to call for.”

The old man clicks his teeth and throws a hand at the screen, “What a bunch of rubbish. That prick isn’t worth a hoot. The Fly-Boys are your best bet.”

“As if those douchebags can do anything for me. Hurry up and pay, mister.”

You place Miguel’s food in front of him, mouth moving before your mind.

“Spider-man seems like a nice guy.”

“What makes you say so?” Miguel reaches for the ketchup.

“Oh, I don’t know. Kasey is always going on and on about him, so any doubts I had, she’s already debunked.”

He’s silent, turning over his sandwich.

“And what do you think of him now?”

“I think he’s pretty cool. He must be stressed out from everything, though. I couldn’t imagine taking on so much. What about you?”

He coughs, “What about me?”

“What do you think of Spider-Man?”

“He’s practical, always gets the job done. Maybe a bit too ambitious for his own good.”

“You talk like you know him.”

“I’ve never met him,” Miguel hums. “ Just taking a wild guess.”

The clip switches to Spider-Man throwing a car right at a villain camping out in a park resulting in immediate flames.

“That’s practical, alright.”

Miguel clears his throat, “He’s probably had better days.”

It’s been raining a lot which meant slower business and slower tips.

You’ve spent most work hours folding and refolding the towel in your apron pocket or flipping through the songs on the jukebox to fill the stillness of the diner.

A few lone stragglers were enjoying their meal, keeping quiet to themselves.

The chefs in the back were roughhousing and Kasey was ticking down when she could clock out.

Two more hours and thirty until you could fight through the rain to get home.

The bell to the door rings, opening up to a drenched Miguel.

A smile comes to your face as if you won a cash prize.

“Hey, stranger,” Kasey says as she turns and starts up a pot of coffee as you round the corner. “Glad to see you here. She was worried sick! You haven’t come in for a while.”

“Kasey, hush!”

“No, no, let her speak,” Miguel taps against the counter. “I’d like to hear what she has to say.”

You elbow Kasey before she even thinks to respond, “Would you like your regular seat, Miguel?”

“I would love that. Had a long day.”

“That you should tell her all about over some coffee,” Kasey smiles. “Go ahead, I’ll cover you.”

You sigh as Kasey follows you to wear Miguel usually sits, and gets Miguel’s order down. She fights silently with you over sitting down across from him. Her eyes saying something along the lines of “we can split the tip,” “here’s your chance,” and “that old fart isn’t going to fire you.”

So there you were, sitting across the guy who you anticipate to come in every so often. The guy who loved simple, American-style meals. The guy with the nice build and a pretty face.

The guy who can’t stop looking at your chest right now.

“You said you had a tough day?” you peer at him from over your glasses, a little unsure of what his steady eyes meant.

“Um, yeah,” he stutters. “There’s been some changes in positions at my job. Some higher ups are giving me trouble, but I think they’re scared they’re about to lose their seats.”

“Oh, you didn’t tell me you were a big-shot.”

“I wouldn’t say all of that,” he grins as he bends his head down. The way his hair falls is dreamy and it’s no fair that he still looks this good despite the rain dousing him. “I’m just in an interesting spot.”

Kasey plops down a hot plate of chopped steak and mashed potatoes smothered in gravy with some steaming broccoli on the side. There’s a heaping amount of food on the plate and you give her an incredulous look before she whips out an extra pair of utensils.

“The guys in the back a closing up shop. They want as little dishes to wash as possible.”

“We don’t close until-”

“As little dishes as possible!” Kasey sing-songs, leaving you shifting in your seat.

Miguel picks up a fork, “I hope you like beef.”

He starts to cut into the meat and you’re slow to follow, watching his arms bulge through through his sweater.

You wonder if he could hear your heart rattling in your chest.

The conversation continues and you learn that Miguel works at Alchemax working as a head lab technician.

“Miguel, that’s amazing! I’ve seen old classmates nearly go to war for that position.”

“It’s not all that it’s chalked up to be.”

“It’s still astounding that you got to that level,” you push your fork through some potatoes and take a bite, “You should be proud. And if not, I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you,” he looks up at you while you continue to chew. “You’ve got something here.”

“Oh,” you quickly take your fingers to your lips, embarrassed.

“Here,” Miguel reaches across from you and wipes he corner of your mouth with a napkin. “All better.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

Time is lost as you two exchange words, Miguel making you laugh over the smallest things. He’s as sweet as ever, his compliments make you ecstatic, and he listens when you go into your own stories. Your cheeks hurt from how much you’ve been grinning.

“Hey, so, I’ve been thinking,” Miguel starts.

“About?”

He takes a deep breath, shoulders tensing up.

“I would love to take you on a date. Somewhere nice and exciting. That’s if you would want to, of course. I don’t want to pressure you.”

“Miguel,” you stop his ramblings with a hand on his wrist, “I would love to go on a date with you.”

His shoulders relax, and his smile is wide.

The chime of the door rings, signaling another customer coming inside. His hands are in his pockets and his hoodie is pulled tight around him. Not an uncommon sight, but the diner was set to close soon.

You followed his steps as he sat in Kasey’s side of the diner, his leg bouncing repeatedly.

“For our date,” Kasey meets your eyes before she goes to his table. Her hospitable tone switched on. “Where were you thinking of going?”

Miguel begins to answer, but you continue to stare at the other side of the room. The guy is jumpy and from what you can tell, snappy. Kasey looks antsy as she walks back to the counter to grab a cup and a picture of water.

Miguel turns around to look where you’re watch and turns back, “Is something wrong?”

“That guy is making Kasey nervous. She’s hiding it well, but she’s freaking out.”

You both watch as he scans that side of the room, body rocking in the still chair.

It was daunting and quiet. The sound of the rain drowning out the idle noises of the dining room.

“Something’s not right,” you whisper.

From how Miguel gets up, you can see that he can feel the uneasiness, too.

Kasey walks over to him, a slice of thick chocolate cake on a small plate in her hands. She places it on the table, ready to ask if he needs anything else.

Time stops as he grabs her arm and yanks her towards him, the few customers left stopping to watch the scene. Kasey pulls her arm back, ready to put up a fight.

The man pulls something out of his pocket, Kasey’s voice reaching a shriek. You gasp as you see him point it right at her head, nerves nearly failing you. People scramble to corners of the room, some falling to the floor.

Miguel grabs your arm and drags you to the bathroom, your hands covering your mouth as you fight the urge to scream.

You can’t feel anything as he shoves you into a stall, your limbs trembling. Tears are running down your face as you try to think, but Miguel is holding you up to keep you from falling.

“Stay in here, and lock the door. Don’t come out.”

“But Miguel, he has a gun! We, we should call someone. You can’t go back out there!”

“I’ll be ok. I promise.”

“How do you know that?”

“Look at me,” Miguel takes your hands as you slide to the floor. He makes the trip easy, arms solid. “I’ll meet you when this is over, ok?”

“Ok,” your vision blurs as Miguel leaves, face worn with sorrow.

You don’t know how long you’ve been sitting on the gross bathroom floor, sobbing into your hands.

You could hear shouting and screaming, the yells of the man telling everyone to shut up. A few bangs of his gun went off and you bit your wrist in order to give yourself away. It didn’t feel right to be the only one to make an escape, but maybe you would be next to die, too.

The rain continues outside, a loud strike of thunder echoing off the tiles as lights flicker off. Your heartbeat picks up as you try not to make a sound. The lightning illuminates the room for a second, and the noise from outside stops.

You can’t tell what’s going on, the pit of your stomach falling with every second.

The door bangs open, and you feel like passing out. It sounds like the ocean is roaring in your ears as you try to listen for footsteps.

One second turns into two, two turns into ten, and you lose count of how long you’re holding your breath.

Your stall is pried open as the lightning shines through the window. Even as you see the masked hero, your throat lets out a weak cry.

“Come on,” he says, eyes on his mask squinting. “It’s safe now.”

With your eyes refocusing, you see Spider-Man standing tall and proud, with Kasey latched to his back like a koala.

Your hand moves across the stall before you feel yourself falling forward.

Spider-Man catches you with ease, lifting you into his arms.

“Thank you, thank you!”

“It’s what I’m here for.”

He carries you both back to the dining room where the robber is beaten black and blue, tied up in neon red webbing. People are huddled up together as policemen ask them questions.

Spider-Man places you in a seat and grabs a blanket from the pile that was brought in. You thank him with a soft voice.

“You can get off of my back now,” he tells Kasey. “He won’t hurt you any time soon.”

“No! I think I want to stay here,” she says. Her eyes surveying the side of his head. Her hands rub the side of his mask, “You really are as sturdy as they say. And this suit! It’s so cooling. What’s it made of? Silk?”

“No, it’s- Will you get off of me, please?”

Kasey jumps to the floor, face filled with glee, like she didn’t just get held at gunpoint.

“Where’s my phone? I have to get a picture. Look here! Say ‘whiskey’! Oh, wait, you can’t really smile can you? Can you sign something for me? My friends are going to be so jealous.”

Spider-Man stiffens up as Kacey flits around him like an excited puppy.

You try to be happy for her, but you can’t find Miguel. He said we would be ok.

There’s an old couple by the window, a mom and her son by the bar, a truck driver talking to the police. No Miguel.

“Shock, can you give me a second?” Spider-Man barks as Kasey tries to climb over him again, squealing like a schoolgirl.

“Excuse me,” you tug at his hand that Kasey doesn’t have a grip on, “Have you seen a man, about 6’8 or so? Sweater, khakis, and a lanyard. He- he was with me before the robber came. I don’t see him anywhere.”

“I’m sorry, this is everyone that was here when I came. Maybe he went to get help.”

“Oh, god,” you take in a watery gulp of air. “What if something happened to him out there? He told me he would be ok!”

“Hey, I’m sure wherever he is, he’ll be alright. No need to panic. Everything from here and a few miles out is taken care of. No one else is coming out here in this weather.”

The guy starts to wake up and fight against the webbing.

“I gotta take care of this,” he pulls Kasey off of him. “See you around, ladies.”

“But Spider-Man-”

Oranges, blues, and reds flash before you, Spider-Man flopping the man over his shoulder as he walks through, stoic silhouette disappearing before you.

You sit in horror as everything weighs down on you.

Something, no, someone, was taken from you before it even had a chance to begin.

Kasey’s hands are rubbing on your back as you cry into the blanket in your lab.

You had no idea where Miguel was.

“I’m sure he’s alright,” Kasey whispers to you, “And if not, I’ll kill him.”

A chuckle comes out of you, a bit half-hearted.

The lights of a car beam through the windows, doors slamming as people came rushing through the door.

You look up to Miguel and a man that looked almost identical.

“Miguel!” you run to him, his arms nearly taking you off the ground. “Oh my god, are you alright? Are you hurt?”

Your hands shake as you touch across his face. He’s all intact, although still drenched.

“I’m ok, I promised you I would be. I went to go get help.”

“Hot help at that,” Kasey whistles as she looks at the man behind Miguel.

“Are you alright?” Miguel covers the hand you have on your face. “I hope I didn’t give you too much of a scare.”

“I’m better now,” you practically melt into him. “Is that date still on?”

“It was never off. I just need your number now. And we can get out of here, yeah?”

You nod and lean onto his chest listening to his heart sing to you.

It feels familiar.

As always, if you enjoyed, please like, reblog, and COMMENT! It felt very mysterious to write even thought I didn't really mean for it to be.

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agentmarvel · 5 months ago

Text

center image by @/ave661

PART III

hitman!ghost x fat!reader (afab, fem) w/ arranged marriage

mdni - 18+; minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

rating: explicit

word count: 3,008

cw: simon simps, self-conscious!reader, implied sexual content (thoughts, not actions)

♡

Simon watches from the arched doorway that separates the foyer from his study. The movers glide across the marble floor with precision, weightlessly and without making a sound. They appear and disappear with no rhyme or reason, but the gravity of their presence is felt. It’s almost phantasmagoric. And how fitting it is that he not be the only specter in a home already so full of ghosts.

But like true eidola, he isn’t looking at them - no, no, he’s looking through. In the sea of boxes and dollies, he’s looking at you. You flit about between the manes, trying your hardest to communicate with them. You ask how you can help, what you can do, what they need, and it all goes unanswered. A residual haunting of sorts, milling about like they don’t even know you’re there, keeping strictly to the task at hand. He’d toss you a planchette, but it won’t do any good. The movers are under unflinching orders - Mrs. Riley is not to lift a finger to move her things into her new home.

The frustration is written all over your face. Your brows are furrowed, arms folded across your chest, pretty mouth set into a discontented frown. He sees you let out a sulky huff, almost petulant in nature. Quietly, he chuckles.

He understands that you’re not happy with the situation. Frankly, he can’t imagine what a whirlwind the last few months has been for you. Finding out that your father is not, in fact, an accountant, but rather one of the world’s largest arms dealers is a nasty enough shock on its own; but having a surprise marriage to an absolute stranger sprung on you adds another, more complicated layer. He doesn’t fault your displeasure in the slightest. Maybe you’ll soften up to the changes over time.

Still, your lack of beguile does nothing to temper his cruel amusement. It’s cute, the way you glare at the passers-by who won’t acknowledge you; hell, he half expected you to stick your tongue out at one of them by now. And the way you huff and roll your eyes? You’re like a child on the receiving end of a scalding scolding, temper ticking like a timebomb, and it’s absolutely adorable.

Your eyes lock with his across the room, and Simon gives you a nod of acknowledgement, well aware that you likely aren’t in the mood to chat just yet. At that, your already perturbed expression sours further. He sees a muscle in your jaw tick tighter. The tips of your fingers curl into your palm firmly. Your clenched fists remain at your sides as you storm towards him unflinchingly. The movers part accordingly.

“I want a divorce,” you announce militantly, planting yourself in front of him with a steely stare.

Simon can’t help but chuckle, shaking his head as he says, “Not an option, love.”

“Why not? It’s an option for everyone else.”

You’re remarkably even-tempered in confrontation, he’ll give you that. Even if the edges of your facade crack beneath the weight of your voice.

“Not for us.”

“Oh, come on! Don’t give me that shit! You’ve fulfilled whatever fucking weird obligation this is, and I’d like to get back to my own life.”

Despite the snarling, teeth bared like a rabid dog ready to rip him to pieces, you must not have inherited your father’s penchant for petulance. You’ve yet to stamp your foot, throw yourself on the cold floor, or start screaming bloody murder until you get your way. You’ve yet to even shed a tear, despite the waves of obvious fury coursing through you. He can see the watery waves forming in your lash line, but you’re trying your damnedest not to show any signs of weakness. Simon respects that.

When you speak again, you’re quieter, calmer. The heave of your chest subsides, a storm of rage quelled with honey instead of vinegar.

“Look, I don’t know what sort of dirt my dad has on you to force you into this, but I promise I can keep him quiet, okay? I’ll take all the blame for it; I’ll tell him you fought tooth and nail against it. I’ll - “

“He didn’t force me,” Simon responds straight away. It’s appalling, the thought that you would just assume this was entirely involuntary, like you were somehow unworthy or undeserving. He figured that your father would’ve at least told you that he chose you.

A look of bewilderment crosses your sweet face just briefly.

“What?”

“Look at me, love; you really think anyone’s going to force me to do anythin’ I don’t wanna?”

You shrink back a hair, shoulders falling from their tense, raised position.

“No, I-I suppose not…” You blink, suddenly avoidant of looking him in the eye. Anxious and notably bothered, you wrap your arms around yourself. Simon swears he can see the pieces of the puzzle slotting together behind your eyes. Gently, he tugs at the sleeve of your cardigan, jerking his head down the hall as he turns on his heel.

“C’mon, I’ll show you to your room.”

“My room?” You sound surprised.

“What, you thought I’d make you share my bed? M’not a monster, sweetheart. You’re welcome to crawl in with me any time you like, but I’m sure you’d prefer your own space for now, yeah?”

Simon swears he can feel the heat radiating off your face from behind him. You stutter out a response he doesn’t quite catch, but the way your words catch has him biting the inside of his cheek to disguise his levity. Still, a lopsided little smirk sneaks through.

You tag along at his heel, following him silently until he guides you up a flight of stairs and stops outside a closed door. He can feel your eyes burning a hole in the side of his skull. The tips of his fingers close around the knob, metal not uttering even a hint of displeasure under his grip, and he pushes the door open before stepping aside. Gesturing you forward, he waits until you’ve crossed the threshold to accompany you.

It’s one of his favorite rooms, he’ll admit. What once sat as an unused auxiliary office for the boys has been gutted, morphed into a dream. The walls went from boring beige to a deep, rich green. High ceilings were scraped of their texture and plated with antique bronze tiles, the vague tinge of oxidation complementing the hardware fixed to every piece of furniture. An espresso stained dresser matches the vanity, the latter of which has an ornate mirror affixed - one Simon prays you’ll use to learn to worship yourself the same way he intends to when you’re ready to allow him. Headboard secured to the wall with the utmost caution, a king-sized mattress sits atop a sturdy sable frame, its four ornately-carved posts hosting a silken mesh canopy. The way it hangs reminds him of the house robe he purchased for you, the very one hanging inside the closet right now. He won’t tell you it’s there, though; he’ll leave it for you to find.

The weeks worth of research and hard work that went into making the room perfect for you were well-spent, based on the look of absolute wonderment on your face.

God, you’re fucking precious. Simon wants to spit out the words on the tip of his tongue and drink down your speechlessness. You’re absolutely fucking darling in the way you take in every inch of the space, awestruck and silently appreciating his efforts as your eyes rove the intricate crown molding, fingers skating across the black satin drapes that match your sheets, sweet mouth falling open in a gasp as you find the first of many surprises he’s left for you - a large vase filled with bat orchids and black baccara roses.

“Thank you, Mr. Riley,” you say softly, a little wobble in your voice. You’re not teary-eyed, but certainly overwhelmed with an emotion he can’t identify on sound alone.

“Just Simon, love.” He hopes the correction will prompt you to repeat it. He wants to know what it sounds like when you say his name.

Instead, you offer a soft, bittersweet smile, nodding.

“Bathroom’s right through that door there.” He gestures towards the stunning en suite that affords you sufficient privacy, far more than you’d receive if you were to share his.

Clearly that aspect was not thought through entirely; the mental image of you joining him for a shower, dripping wet in more ways than one, flashes behind his eyes. Your hair clinging to your face, pillars of steam shifting and swirling with your every forced exhale, the way your pleas and whimpers would echo through the cavernous space - it’s enough to make him start to chub up in his slacks.

He shakes his head a little and clears his throat.

“Dinner’ll be ready at 6:00 sharp. Got some work things to handle before then, so you’ll have some time to yourself. Rest, unpack, do whatever you want; we’ll go over the rules after dinner, and I’ll show you the rest of the house.”

“Rules?” That caught your attention.

“Yeah.” You prod him with a questioning look, but he doesn’t bend. He doesn’t elaborate, reiterating that he’ll answer any questions you have after dinner. When you don’t press him further, he explains that his office is just down the stairs. If you need him, come get him. Doesn’t matter what for, whether it’s something as simple as asking a question or help with moving a heavy box. Otherwise, the dining room is just off the foyer, and he’ll meet you there in a few hours.

He turns to leave, but your soft voice asking him to wait a moment draws him back.

“What is it, dove?”

You’re silent, but you look like you want to say something, teeth worrying your lower lip as you wring your hands. He cocks his head to the side, brows furrowing with a look of implore. You sigh.

“I… I’m sorry, Simon, about earlier. This is a lot, and I’m still trying to make sense of all of it. I didn’t mean to snap at you like that.”

He waves you off, shaking his head.

“Nothin’ to apologize for,” he answers. “Lot to process, take the time to sort it out, yeah?”

You nod, a little sheepish, and he slips out the door, broad shoulders hiding the fact that he’s palming himself as he walks away.

♡

He’s just finishing his meticulous plating of dinner when you come around the corner. It’s 5:59, the clock ticking over to exactly 6:00 the moment he places the second plate on the table top.

Your tired eyes find his mid-yawn and stretch, and Simon is reduced to a puddle of a man as he takes you in.

An oversized sleep shirt hangs off one of your shoulders - one big enough to be his - obscuring your comely curves in a way that ought to be outlawed. Your tiny shorts barely peek out beneath the hem, the width of your delectable thighs concealing more fabric than exposed. He imagines your socks were pulled up past your knees when you put them on, but they’ve managed to slouch just below, an egregious error of gravity that he’d gladly get on his own knees to correct.

It’s nauseating, the way his granite form crumbles at your feet. Bones of iron melt pliable and his alkaline blood turns to liquid magma. His mouth runs dry like the Sahara, begging for a taste of you to quench the savage thirst.

Simon is not a soft man, and yet, you’ve created a crater in his chest the size of your palm. Touch him; your fingers will slot just so in the impression. Dig a little deeper, and you’ll find a hollow cavity. The heart that couldn’t flourish there sprouted roots, planting itself in your hands. He barely knows you, but every fiber of his being reaches for you, like vines of ivy climbing towards the sun. He’s content to allow it as long as your warmth stays near.

“What’s all this?” you ask softly, a faint smile tugging at your lips.

“Cacio e pepe, chicken instead of pasta, with a nice pecorino romano risotto,” he replies coolly, gesturing to the empty seat in front of you. “Your mum told me you love Italian, so I thought it’d be a nice welcome meal.”

“That’s so sweet of you, Simon; thank you.” Your voice wobbles a little, thick with emotion. Hesitance takes hold of your hands as they wrap around the back of the chair. The muscles in your forearms twitch. Simon can see your gears turning, a battling raging on behind your eyes.

Patiently, he watches, waiting to see which side will win. Hell, he’d like to know who’s fighting to begin with.

“Oh, I-I should really go change,” you finally whisper, doubt clouding your downcast eyes. “I’m not dressed appropriately. You made such a nice dinner, and I look - ”

“Nothin’ wrong with what you’re wearing now.” It’s a challenge, daring you to argue. His expression is titanium.

With a frantic, trembling hand, you wipe a stray tear off your cheek. You look like you’re on the verge of a break, cracking under a pressure that Simon isn’t applying. He shifts around the edge of the table, moving in behind you like a mirage in the blink of an eye. His fingers curl around yours, gently prying your hands from the chair. A shudder runs through your body. The hiccup that follows gives you away. It’s a sob. And he’ll be damned if he isn’t the kintsugi to the fractures in your psyche.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, squeezing your hands. You shake your head, sniffling. “C’mon, sweetheart, look at me, yeah? Lemme see those pretty eyes.”

You make a half-turn, and Simon’s quick to release your far hand, instead settling his palm against your back to rub little circles.

“Atta girl; good job…” Soothing. Calm. “Just breathe, alright? Everything’s okay.”

That’s not what he wants to say. He wants to say that you’re safe, that he’ll fix your fragile pieces and make you whole again, that he’ll cut the tongue out of anyone who ever tries to make his wife feel inferior again. But he can’t say any of that right now, so he doesn’t.

“I’m sorry,” you sigh, pulling a hand free to swipe at your cheeks with the back of it. “I promise I’m not always like this. I’m just tired; I wasn’t thinking about my clothes, I - “

“Stop.” Firm. Gentle. “I don’t care what you wear. If you’re comfortable, you don’t need to change. Dinner together ain’t a big formal event. You haven’t eaten all day, so let’s eat before the food gets cold, yeah?”

You stare at him for a moment, face blank and eyes vacant. Unshed tears are blinked back.

“Yeah… Yeah, okay.”

But you don’t move. You don’t shy away from the way his fingertips graze your spine in spirals. You don’t look away from him, eyes locked on molten honey. His tongue twitches behind his teeth, a vicious need to devour settling into his jaw.

God, he wants to eat you alive, swallow you whole. A bright-eyed little rabbit caught in the maw of an anaconda. You’d taste so sweet, wouldn’t you? The mess between your thighs would match the shimmery streaks on your cheeks, and Simon would do nothing but make it worse. He’d not rest until you’re dripping against his open mouth, face slick with your arousal, legs shaking as they frame his head. You’d have to beg him to stop, too overwhelmed to speak properly, throat screamed raw and gripping the sheets with enough force to tear. That’s the only time he ever wants to see you cry.

Gently, Simon guides your hands from the back of the chair. He pulls it out for you to sit, and you do so unceremoniously with a whispered gratitude.

He settles across the table, unhesitant to dig into his plate. It’s better this way; keeps his mouth occupied so he doesn’t continue to salivate over his darling little wife. You take your first bite shortly after and make a noise that does nothing for his growing erection.

“Simon, this is really fucking good.” Your hand covers your mouth as you speak. It’s hushed and meek, but your sincerity is written in the delicately creasing threads at the corners of your eyes.

“Thank you,” he answers, amused. “Good to know someone appreciates my hard work.”

“You made this yourself?” You sound surprised, and Simon chuckles.

“That I did. Quite enjoy cooking for special occasions.”

“Is this a special occasion?”

He nods.

“‘Course it is.”

You’re quiet for a moment, a thoughtful expression present. The faintest smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. When your eyes meet his, though, you break contact immediately, looking back down at your plate to spear another bite with that same soft grin.

“Color me surprised,” you murmur. “I thought for sure you’d have a chef.”

Simon hums.

“Bold assumption.”

“Oh, come on! Look at your house! Is that so unreasonable?” You titter, faux exasperation lacing your tone.

“Our house,” he corrects. “And we do have a chef. I gave him the night off.”

You fall silent at that, face morphing into something unreadable, no discernable direction of affect. It worries Simon just briefly, like he’s said the wrong thing. But he’s not wrong, not really. Everything of his is yours now, too - his home, his money, his empire, his heart. It’s all yours. Truthfully, there’s nothing in this world that he wouldn’t give to you. He’s your husband now; that sort of apathy would be a dereliction of his duties.

“Our house,” you parrot, mulling over the taste. That saccharine little simper returns, and you draw your lower lip between your teeth, trying to hide a degree of mirth.

Maybe you’ll come around to all of this sooner than he thought.

Maybe you’ll fall just as hard just as fast.

part iv

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #cod x reader #cod x you #fat reader #plus size reader #jj writes

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lesservillain · 6 months ago

Text

inmate!eddie munson x teacher!reader

cw: smut, miscommunications

January 19th, 1995

“And when you take the line that Romeo-”

With ten minutes left in class, you were suddenly interrupted by a knock on the door. All eyes turn to see Mr.Bridges standing with his bright smile and a crisp new tie. He gives a friendly wave and stands there waiting for you to greet him. He gets the hint when you give him a questioning look.

“Hell, all! I hope you had a good holiday season,” he waves, a stack of envelopes in his hand. You did your best to keep your excitement contained, watching his hand as he made his way to you, “I have your newest letters here. And I just want to say that the boys at the jail loved the cards, guys. You all wrote some very nice things and they all had a light in their eyes when they read them.”

When you went to grab the stack from his hands, he stopped you, stepping close enough to whisper. “Can I talk with you in the hallway for a moment, please?” Your heart raced at how serious his tone was. Nodding, you let the class know you’d be stepping out, and to do some self study in the meantime. Mr.Bridges closed the door behind you, clearing his throat before turning to face you.

“Is everything okay? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you not smiling. It’s kind of creeping me out.” You joke, trying to lighten the tense vibes this interaction is giving.

He looks down and the ground for a moment before looking back up to you, “So, I have some bad news. About one of the inmates.”

Your heart dropped to your ass.

“W-what happened?”

“There was an…incident over the holidays,” he starts, “one of the inmates was attacked and, unfortunately, didn’t survive.”

Your head reeled back, suddenly dizzy. He kept speaking before you could think much more.

“We don’t know how it happened, but we are looking into making sure that our security measures don’t let it happen again. But,” he perks up again, easily slipping back into his sunny disposition, “in the meantime, that means you don’t have to worry about writing to your inmate anymore!”

Oh, god you wanted to puke.

“E-Eddie died?” You could barely get out the words and your vision started to go blurry as tears welled up in your eyes.

“What, oh, no, another inmate,” he said nonchalantly, “Eddie’s fine, but he’s just going to be reassigned to the student who had the inmate who passed. Wasn’t very happy when we told him about the switch, but when we told him that you weren’t super keen on the whole project to begin with, his tune seemed to change.”

It was too much coming at you all at once. It felt like the worst case of the spins. Relief hit first, and then mortification. Bridges was talking but you couldn’t hear the words. He handed you the stack of letters as the students started pouring out of the classrooms before disappearing amongst the crowd.

The rest of the morning you were in a funk. Only on your lunch break were you finally able to sit down and process everything. Eddie is alive. A positive. Eddie probably hates you. A negative. Anger bubbled in your body. Why would they even tell him about your disapproval for the program anyway? Sure, you had your reservations, but you’ve had a change of heart in the last few months.

“Fuck,” you bury your face in your hands and run them down to your neck. The stack of envelopes sit on your desk. You’re not sure which student got Eddie in the mix, so you flip through the envelopes to see if the handwriting looks familiar. Sure enough you see a name in the familiar chicken scratch handwriting. You sit back in your chair with a huff, throwing the envelopes on your desk.

Tears started to fall. You looked up to the ceiling to try and cease their descent but it was too late.

It’s always just when it starts to get good that it’s all ripped away from you. Just when you started getting good at soccer, you broke your foot. Just when your dad started coming around, he relapsed and ran off again. Just when you got to see your moms face light up when she found out she was getting her first grandchild, you had a miscarriage. Just when you thought your life was going to be normal for once in your life, your husband had to have an affair. And just when you thought you had something in your life to look forward to, that was taken away from you, too.

“Hey, Marcus ordered pizza, it’s in the breakroom-” The chipper voice of Mr.Clark made you jump, bringing your sleeved wrists to your eyes to hide the evidence. “Woah, hey, what’s going on? Did Carl Thompson try to set his paper on fire again? I told Ester that he needed to be searched when he gets off the bus in the morning.”

You let out a light chuckle at his attempt at humor, though there was some truth in his words…Regardless, you just shake your head and give him the best smile you can muster. “No, not today, Scott. I’m just, um, still a little emotional from the holidays?”

“Ah, yeah, I get it,” he nods his head in solidarity, “I was pretty blue after Jen left. Still not much better, really.” The thousand yard stare he gives as he says those last words make you feel a little concerned for him in the moment. You give him a look, and he instantly goes back to his normal self, “But, hey, it does get better. Valentines day probably wont help,” his eyes widen in momentary distress, “but, the staff usually have a little party at Bennigan’s, so that will be fun!”

You just nod your head, “Yeah, sure, sounds like fun…”

There’s a moment of awkward silence before Scott tsks and slowly starts moving out of the doorway to your classroom. “Well, yeah, anyway, uh, pizza’s in the breakroom.” Then he’s gone.

You wait a moment before letting out a laugh you desperately needed.

January 21st, 1995

“Open up, you’re not skipping out on another weekend!”

A groan pours from your chest, muffled by the pillow you’ve got your face buried in. Another knock comes from the front door, Robin’s voice booming from the other side.

“Alright, alright!” You barely lift yourself from the couch to lean over the arm, twisting the knob of your front door to let your beloved friends in. As they make their way inside, you twist your body to look at the clock on the stove, but your vision is too blurry to see. “What time is it?”

“Nine in the morning,” Steve says as he lifts up your feet to sit at the end of your couch, placing them back in his lap, “we’re going to brunch, then we’re hitting up the mall. Robin is in desperate need of a new pair of shoes.”

“I’m pretty sure I have the back of an 80 year old. Probably from carrying the weight burden of being Steve’s only friend.”

Your whole body shakes from laughter, Steve’s face only making you laugh harder, “You are not my only friend!” He gestures to you, still laying on the couch, boneless in you lack of effort to peel yourself from the couch, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Robin.

“Oh, yeah, this barnacle of a human is totally worth calling your friend,” She says jokingly as she grabs your arm in an attempt to pull you from the couch.

“Hey,” you say defensively before starting to maneuver yourself upright, “I still move around. If I’m any sea creature I’m at least a starfish.”

“Pardon me, I’ll make sure to properly address you next time.”

After getting properly dressed and piling into Steve’s car, you let them drag you around to brunch, letting yourself have a few mimosas and eating enough appetizers that you barely touch the food you ordered.

At the mall, you let Steve and Robin drag you from store to store. They stop and laugh at the empty spot in the food court where their old ice cream job used to be before it caught fire (neither of them would tell you how it caught fire). Eventually, Steve ran to the bathroom, leaving you and Robin to wander around the mall.

“Why don’t you get yourself something nice?” She nudged you, tilting her head in the direction of a fancy underwear store, her eyebrows wiggling suggestively.

You scoff, rolling your eyes, “Why? Who am I gonna wear it for? You and Steve?”

Her shoulders shrug, “Hey I’m not complaining. But, you never know. Love will soon be in the air, and maybe you’ll get asked out on a date. Wouldn’t it be nice to wear something cute like that,” she points to a mauve coloured bra and panty set on one of the mannequins in the window, “rather than the same $2 pack of granny panties and K-Mart bra all the time?”

“Are you suggesting I’m going to be putting out on the first date?” You look at her with a deadpan expression.

“Hey, I’m not judging,” her hands go up defensively, “But, you’d probably feel better knowing that if you did get lucky, at least you came prepared.”

Looking into the store, then back to your friend, who gives you the best convincing face she can muster, you slump your shoulders and make your way into the store. You try on a few things, using Robin’s expert opinion to find something that pops on your colour wise and fits your body’s curves the best.

When you emerge from the store after making your purchase, you find Steve sitting on a bench a few feet away, eyes scanning around him. Once his eyes meet the two of you, he jumps from his seat and makes his way over.

“What the hell, you guys totally disappeared on me!”

“Relax mother bear,” Robin pats Steve on the back, “We just wanted to make a quick pit stop before we go.”

Steve eyes the bag in your hand when you lift it up for him, and his cheeks get a dusting of pink to them. “Ah, I see. Well, I guess that means we’re ready to go then?”

After making one more stop on the way home to pick up dinner, the three of you settled on Steve’s couch. Just as he went to take his spot next to Robin, the phone rang. Steve lets out a groan before making his way into the kitchen. “Harrington’s residence,” he says with his fake customer service voice, you and Robin to stifle your giggles. His face goes from annoyed to wide eyed, and a smile blooms across his face.

“You mean tonight?” He asks, eyes flicking over to yours for a moment, “Yeah, yeah, we’re just about to watch a movie, but it can wait. Do you know what time? No, no it’s fine, I know you’re busy, sir.”

Steve looks at his watch and nods his head. “Yeah, okay. We’ll be right here when he does. Thanks, Mr. Munson. Bye-bye.”

You feel your eyes go wide. Munson? Steve answers your questions before you can even think to ask them.

“So, Eddie is gonna call in, like,” he looks at his watch again, “20 minutes. His uncle said he meant to call sooner but hadn’t had the chance,” he looks at you with a quirked brow, “Is that going to be okay? You don’t have to be in the room when we talk to him if you don’t want to-”

“No, no, I’ll be fine!” You wave your hands, “Don’t do anything different on my account.”

“Are you sure?” Robin’s voice has a more teasing tone compared to Steve’s.

“Yeah, no, it’s cool,” you sit back on the couch, trying to disguise your nerves, “Just…pretend I’m not here.” Your attention is now on the cuticles on your nails, and you miss the look of mischief on Robin’s face, along with Steve’s nod in return.

To avoid the awkwardness that started to build, you jumped up from Steve’s couch and made your way to his fridge to get a drink. Taking a long sip, you almost drop the bottle entirely when the sound of the phone ringing again makes you jump.

A lump in your throat forms, and you feel butterflies instantly in your stomach. Shit, is that sweat on the back of your neck? You watch as Robin springs up from the couch and makes her way to stand next to Steve. When Steve picks up the phone a woman’s voice can be heard on the other end. He gives a short “yes” and the phone is quiet for a moment. Robin looks at you from over Steve’s shoulder with a smile. Then, you can hear a voice.

“Hello?”

Robin and Steve adjust themselves so that the phone is between both of their ears. “Hey, Eddie,” Robin says with a cheerful enthusiasm.

“Sup, man,” Steve says cooly, “How’s it going?”

Your heart flutters when you hear a soft laugh from the speaker of the phone.

“Same thing, different day. Been trying to keep myself occupied. Old man got sent to solitary again so I had to be on my toes last week. But,” he said the last word with a sing-songy voice, “I did get some good news.”

Robin and Steve look at each other, visible excitement in their eyes.

“Did you get a set date?” Robin’s ask, becoming excited and pulling the phone closer to her ear. Steve pulls it back and gives her a look.

“Yep! Only five more miserable months and then I’m a free man,” you can hear the relief in Eddie’s tone as he practically shouts into the phone. Whoops and hollers come from your two friends as they bounce around in front of you. You can’t help but feel excited for him too, eyes meeting with Robin in mutual excitement.

“That’s so awesome man,” Steve laughs into the phone, “just in time for your birthday, too.”

“Oh, yeah! We’re definitely going to terrorize the Hideout,” Robin says.

“You have no idea how much I’m looking forward to it. Can’t wait to drink with the kids, too,” Eddie laughs.

The three of them continue their back and forth for a few minutes, talking about their mutual friends and what shenanigans that they can all get into.

“Hey, are they doing a rose festival this year?”

You perk up at this, still standing idly by and sipping on your beer. Robin notices and smirks, “Yeah, I think so. Why do you ask?”

“I’ve been thinking about it for a couple months. You remember that pen pal thing I was telling you guys about?”

Now both sets of eyes are on you. A slight blush covers your cheeks, and you feel your heart beating faster.

“Oh, yeah, with that teacher? Are you still doing that?” Steve winks at you. You look at him wide eyed, mouthing “what the fuck” but he just brushes you off.

Eddie’s tone shifts, “Still writing letters, but not to her.” There’s a clear malice in his voice. Like just the thought of you made his mood sour. All the butterflies die instantly and fall into your ass at his words. Steve and Robin look at the phone confused. “What? Why?”

There’s a pause for a moment. “I can’t really go into the details. But they told me I couldn’t write her anymore. I got pissed off and told them that the reason why wasn’t fair, that I wanted to keep writing to her. Well, turns out she never liked writing to me anyway. The guy running the whole thing said that she was only “doing it out of obligation” and wasn’t the nicest person in the first place. Said she was trying to get canceled from the start, made it seem like it was a chore.”

“That’s not true!” You finally speak up, tears welling in your eyes. “I mean, it’s not totally true.”

There’s a pause, the three of you standing in complete silence for a moment.

“What?” Eddie’s voice, crackling in the receiver, is riddled with confusion, “Is someone else there? Hello?”

Grabbing the phone from Steve’s hand, you take a deep breath before bringing it to your ear. “I like getting letters from you, Eddie.”

The line is quiet for a moment. Then, he says your name softly, but like it’s a question.

“Yeah…surprise?” Your voice is small, and it matches the smile on your face. You wait for Eddie to say something in response, but there is a sudden commotion coming from his end. All you hear is him yelling back at someone before the line goes dead.

“Eddie? Eddie, hello?” Your panicked voice makes Steve grab the phone from your hand, bringing it up to his own ear. “Did he hang up?” He asks, looking at you confused, placing the phone back on the receiver.

“I-I don’t know,” you stammer, “It was quiet and then I heard some muffling and yelling. Then the line went dead.”

“Shit,” Robin places a hand on your shoulder, “You think he’s okay?”

“Can you call him back?” you look to Steve, pleading for him to do something.

Steve shakes his head dismally, eyes darting between floor tiles, “No, only he can call us.” He shrugs, lifting his head just enough to look at you through his lashes, “We did talk for a while, maybe his time was up?”

You couldn’t help but frown at his words, your mind going to the worst case scenario of what could have happened.

“Hey,” Robin’s words brought you back, “He’s fine, don’t worry about him. He’s always been able to hold his own.” She gives you a questioning look, “You didn’t tell us that you weren’t writing to each other anymore.”

Your head rolls in frustration, “I only just found out on Thursday. Some guy died and it fucked everything up. One of my students gets to write to him now and I don’t get to do anything about it.”

Fist slamming on the counter, you feel your blood starting to boil. “I never said it was a chore to write to him. Sure, I was skeptical at first, but I haven’t said a single negative thing since the damn thing started. I just…Fuck, I knew he was going to be mad at me.”

The warmth of Steve’s hand on your back along with the weight of Robin’s head on your shoulder as she link arms with yours grounded you. You expected them to say something, but they just let you cry it out, moving you to the couch. They knew that the tears falling weren’t just because you lost a pen pal. It was a break down that was a long time coming. Everything came pouring out, letting your wound be open and exposed to the air.

February 3rd, 1995

“-Then, you’re going to write his name, his booking number and his cell block. That’s all the stuff I told you before.”

You nod your head, as if the voice on the phone could see you. “Okay, got it. So I just write the address and stamp it now, correct?”

“Yeah,” Dustin Henderson squeaks on the other end, “And it should work. I write letters to him all the time since we don’t have a phone in our dorm. I tried to stick some blank papers in there once for him but he said they confiscated it and still made him pay for the paper he does write on. Messed up, isn’t it?”

“I know, right,” you say with an ire, placing your letter in the envelope before licking it closed, “What a way to squeeze money out of someone.”

“Totally! Anyway, I’m sure Eddie will be stoked to get your letter. Steve gave me some of the details, but when he reads what you said there’s no way Eddie can stay mad. He pretends to be a tough guy but he’s a total softy -- Don’t tell him I said that, please.”

“I promise,” you laugh, “It’s the least I can do for all your help, Dustin.”

“Hey, who am I to keep two people from falling in love,” the suave suggestion in his voice makes you blush, but you keep yourself together.

“We’re not in love, we’re barely even friends.”

“Yeah, yeah, save it for the wedding. Which I better be the best man for!”

“I think you’re breaking up, Dustin! Thank you for your help! Byeeee!”

Leaning against the wall next to the phone, you take in a deep breath before letting it out and up with exasperation. Holding the envelope between your fingers, smoothing your thumbs over the edges, you stare at his name for a moment. The envelope feels heavier than normal, but that’s the difference that writing three front and back pages will do.

Three pages, all written with your heart. The invisible eye of judgment that looked over you when you wrote your letters before had disappeared. You felt the need to explain yourself after everything that had transpired. You didn’t sugar coat anything, because that wouldn’t be fair. But, you hoped that when you explained your background a little that he would understand your reservations. It only seemed fair to tell him that you knew more about him than you let on in your last letter, hoping that when you explained how Robin and Steve had entered your lives that it would clear up any misunderstandings.

It was hard to write, but you concluded the letter by telling him that you would understand if he still hated you. If he didn’t want to talk to you ever again, you would respect that, even if it meant having to distance yourself from your friends. You signed with your own rendition of a small rose next to it, and made the last minute decision to add your apartment phone number at the very bottom. You didn’t want to get your hopes up, but you put it there just in case.

February 14th, 1995

As the final bell rang for the day, you wished your students a safe trip home, reminding them to have their homework packets done by Thursday. Once the last student filed out, you wasted no time getting to tearing down the pink and red decor that had been haunting you for the last two weeks. You’d not been a big fan of Valentine’s Day to begin with. Even when you and Henry were still together he had only really put in any effort the first year or two. Then it just became mundane and predictable. He’d take you to dinner, get a little wine in you, and expect you on your knees once you got home.

It was almost nice to spend a year doing something different for once.

“Hey, Anita wanted to get a head count tonight to make sure we have enough seats. You’re still good to go, right?”

“Yeah,” you turned to see Scott at your door, “I’ll be there, 6 sharp! Just going to run home and get out of my teacher costume.”

Mr.Clark laughed at that, “Alright, see you later then!” He gave a little wave before he tucked himself back out into the hall.

After cleansing your classroom of any signs of love, you made your way home to get ready. Even though Steve was a little bummed you wouldn’t be joining him and Robin for a night of cheap chocolate and shitty made for TV movies, Robin was more than happy to hear that you wanted to get out of your shell and make more friends. “Don’t forget to wear that set you got!”

And you did. Not that you expected anything to happen, but she was right about feeling good in it, even if it was just for yourself. Self love counts on Valentine’s Day.

When you came home later that night, you were still in a fit of giggles from the excitement at dinner. Between the surprise karaoke set up and the look on Scott's face when Mrs.Blaine pulled him back to the bathrooms during the peak of the night, you’d dare to say that you’d had a good time. You’d even limited yourself to one drink before switching to water.

As you peeled your jacket and boots off the red flashing of your answering machine caught your eye. You walk over to the machine, letting it play as you walk around the apartment.

“You have: two missed messages. First message.”

BEEP.

“Hi, darling.”

You stop mid step. Goosebumps cover all of your body at the sound of his voice. You hadn’t heard it in months. Almost a year now.

“I’m sorry I missed you…In more ways than one I suppose. I’m guessing you’re probably out with Stephen tonight. I saw the two of you out with your friend at the mall a few weeks back.”

A pause in the message has you wondering if he hung up after that.

“I…I guess I just wanted to say that I hope you’re doing well. You looked as much, and they way he looked at you…Well, I guess I can’t comment. Hope you have a good night. Love you.”

Love you.

You scoff.

“Second message.”

BEEP.

“This call is coming from Pendleton Correctional Facility from:”

“Eddie Munson.”

Quicker than you’ve ever moved before, you’re sure your feet barely touch the ground as you make your way to your living room.

“Hello? Oh was that a beep? Shit, sorry.” He was clearly flustered, his fumbling only made you feel giddy like you were listening to a voicemail from your crush.

“Let me start over. Hi, it’s Eddie,” he laughs, “I hope it’s not weird for me to call today. They only make you pay half as much if you tell them you’re calling your old lady. Not that I’m saying you are my-my, uh, girl or whatever.” You could almost picture how red he must have been as he was talking. You couldn’t help but bury your face in your hands and falling over on your couch, floundering around at the implication.

“I would have called sooner, but I had to wait for your number to be added to my approved call list. Just, uh, wanted to let you know I got your letter. I wrote you one back, but I’m waiting on a stamp. The freaking ran out since everyone is sending love letters. So as soon as they get more I’ll be shipping that out to you. But…I wanted to tell you that I’m not mad. That Bridges, he’s a real asshole. He keeps bragging about how as long as the project goes well then he gets a bonus.”

You were shocked at first, but it all made sense when you thought about it. In your gut, you knew there was no way his sunny demeanor was genuine. His insistence on your participation as well. He probably would have lost money if you hadn’t taken on his offer.

“And as much as I hate the guy, I gotta admit that we wouldn’t be…whatever this is without him. On that note, I also feel like I need to get something off my chest.”

Heart beating a million beats per second, you sit up straight, keeping your eyes on the machine as if it would disappear if you looked away for even a second.

“I may or may not have known a little bit about you before all of this happened, too. Before we started writing to each other actually, thanks to the wonder twins telling me all about their new friend whose asshole husband cheated on her with a girl 15 years younger than him. They would talk about you any time I called and I started to look forward to meeting you when I got out. That hasn’t really changed…” The audio is muffled for a moment, where he probably put his hand over the receiver, “Alright, jeez get off my back, Tony. I’ll be done in a fucking minute. Sorry,” his voice becomes clear again, “these guys are jerks. Anyway, to make a long story short, I think that we should just put the stupid shit with Bridges behind us, start over, or pick up where we left off. I think that it’ll make more sense when you read my letter. So, yeah. Um, have a happy Valentine’s day and…live long and prosper. Bye!”

BEEP.

“No new messages. Two old messages.”

May 27th, 1995

A breeze blows gently through your apartment, billowing your curtains lightly. Lightening Crashes by Live transitions into Only Wanna Be With You by Hootie and the Blowfish on the little radio that you picked up from Melvald’s on clearance. You hum along, wiping sweat from your forehead as you continue to mop your kitchen floor. “I only wanna be with youuuuuu~,” you belt out into the empty apartment.

The phone rings in the living room, and you look at the clock. Shit, it was noon already? You scramble to turn the radio down, careful not to knock over the empty wine bottles that sat next to the sink, drain rung red. You hop over the coffee table, planting your butt on the cushion and picking up the phone. The automated message plays, and you mutter a little yeah, yeah, yeah as it speaks. Hearing Eddie’s voice gets you curling up against the arm of the couch. You give a quick yes, and soon you’re connected.

“Hello?”

You try and hide your excitement, but fail miserably as you reply. “Hi, Eddie!”

“Happy first day of no school! How did last night go?” His voice was full of genuine interest, you could almost imagine the grin he has on his face.

“It went really well! I had to take Mr.Clark home afterwards, but I didn’t have a single drink! I also don’t think I’ve had a single migraine since we last talked.”

Eddie’s laugh told you that he was definitely cheesing on his end. “That’s so awesome, Sweetheart! I’m super proud of you.”

His praises made you melt, his smooth voice not helping.

After Eddie’s message on Valentine’s day in combination of his letter, the two of you agreed to try your friendship again from scratch. It was never spoken between you two, but you’re sure that after all the things you’ discussed on that first real phone call just between the two of you that Robin and Steve were planning to set you two up, even before the prison project. When you asked them about it, they just played dumb so you just put it to rest.

Your dreams had also changed. Once the door that was closed was now open, the two of you sit facing each other. Sometimes you would talk, sometimes the dream would only last for a few moments. Either way, the feeling was different now. There was no fear, he just needed to cross the threshold to get to you.

Eddie has been calling every other Saturday at noon since. You’d drive to his uncle’s trailer after every call to give him money to put on Eddie’s commissary, shocked the first time to see the man you spent some of Christmas Day with. You had been too far gone to remember his name, which you apologized profusely for. He told you it was no big deal, and insisted on showing you some hospitality and some old photos of Eddie when he was younger.

Eventually it became routine. Wake up, get everything prepped, talk to Eddie until eventually Tony (who apparently thinks he gets to tell people how long that can use the phone) kicks him off, take food to Wayne’s, and then spend the evening with Steve and Robin. It took a lot of energy out of you at first, but when you confided in your friends about your drinking problem, it started to feel like less of a chore as your energy started to come back.

“What have ya got made up for Wayne today?” Eddie asks.

“He told me he really liked my hash brown casserole I made a few weeks ago, so I got that ready for him before I started cleaning this morning.”

“Damn, he did say somethin’ about you making a good casserole. I’m gonna get a belly on me if you’re gonna be cookin’ like that,” his pained sounds at missing out on your food has you squirming in your seat. You couldn’t pinpoint when it really started, but as your phone calls became more frequent, the two of you talked more and more about things that you wanted to do together.

It started out as group activities. He wanted you to come to a D&D game. You wanted to go with him and Steve and Robin to this cute farmers market your coworker told you about. He wanted to try and get a gig at the hideout so he could show you how good his band sounds. You wanted to have a get together at Steve’s when he comes home. He wants to take you to this really nice restaurant in town. You want to bring him with you to Chicago some time when you are out visiting your brother. He wants to take you to the movies. You want to take him to the new record store opening this summer.

It would be a lie to say that his promises didn’t make you hopeful. You had to constantly remind yourself that he didn’t even know what you looked like. He could say all these things to you on the phone, and he could just as easily book it if you weren’t what he was expecting.

“Oh, I was thinking-” you started.

“That’s never a good sign,” he teased.

“Ha ha, so funny, Munson,” you fake offense, “Anyway, I was thinking we could go see the new Batman movie when you get out. Robin and Steve keep debating on if Val Kilmer is going to play a good Batman, but I just want to see Jim Carry as the Riddler.”

“I don’t know, have you ever sat through a movie with them?” He questions.

“Uh, yeah, plenty--oh, okay I see your point,” you say, thinking about how much the two of them talk during a movie just at Steve’s. They were probably menaces in a movie theater.

“Yeah, it would probably be better if just the two of us go. Save us a headache,” he suggests.

“Sounds like a date, then,” you say, curious of his reaction. It’s quiet for a moment before he speaks again.

“A date? Yeah, sure, yeah, that,” he sounds nervous.

“I’m just messing with you, Eddie,” you say to save face, hoping to hide any disappointment in your voice.

“Oh,” his tone sounds sad, dejected even, “Yeah, sure.”

You were going to say something until you heard Tony’s voice yelling. Both of you let out a sigh in unison.

“Alright, I guess I’ll hear from you in two weeks?” You don’t even bother to hide your disappointment anymore.

“Yeah. Wish it was sooner…”

“Hey, only two more months, Eddie,” you try to lift his spirits.

“Two more months,” he mirrors back.

After you say your goodbyes, you quickly get cleaned up to head over to Wayne’s. His old truck sits in the driveway, and you catch him finishing up mowing the grass. You pop the casserole in the oven while he gets cleaned up, using the spare time to pick up a few things here and there. Wayne’s tried to tell you guests don’t get to clean up, but you just ignored him until he gave up, asking him if it was really the hill he wanted to die on.

The two of you chatted, eventually migrating out to the front porch to enjoy the steady nice weather.

“Do you think Eddie will like me?” you ask nonchalantly, keeping your eyes on a crack beneath your feet.

Wayne stops mid puff and looks at you confused.

“What?” you ask, trying to play it off.

“Is that a rhetorical question?” he asks, blowing the smoke away from you.

“No, I mean…What if he thinks I’m something I’m not? What if he’s disappointed when he meets me?”

Wayne barks out a laugh, “Oh, trust me, he won’t. I already know exactly what’s gonna happen, and it’s not him running away with his tail between his legs.”

“What do you thinks going to happen?” you ask with concern.

He just smiles, eyes fixed on the sunset.

July 26th, 1995

Your hands smooth out the fabric of your dress for the hundredth time, opting for something simple yet flattering and pairing it with some nice jewelry. “Are you sure this is okay?”

Robin was laying across Steve’s bed, swinging her legs and staring at the ceiling. “For the millionth time, yes, you look hot. He’s gonna fall to his knees when he sees you.”

You walk over to the bed and plop down next to her, “And for the millionth time, it’s not like that Robin. I…,” you fiddle with your rings as you stare at Steve’s ceiling fan spinning above you, “What if I’m not what he’s expecting? I know what he looks like, but he’s only going off of what he’s been told about me. What if when he gets here, he takes one look at me and-”

“Okay, listen,” Robin places a hand delicately over your mouth, “First of all, Eddie is going to have to pick his jaw off the floor when he sees you. I promise you that.” You look over to her next to you, smiling under her hand. “Second, if it’s not “like that,” then why are you wearing that matching set you got when we went to the mall?” The hand on your mouth moves to your shoulder where she snaps your bra strap against your skin.

You jump up from the bed trying to hide the blush in your face when a knock on the door draws both of your attention.

“Hey, are you two done playing dress up in there? Jane and Max need help getting all the food set up.”

“On it,” you say as you open the bedroom door, sliding past Steve to get away from Robin before she can ask any more questions.

You wipe the sweat from the back of your neck, bouncing Nancy and Jonathan’s two year old daughter on your hip. Nancy was telling you about her latest article in the New York times when Dustin’s shrieking voice caught everyone’s attention.

“HE’S HERE! HE’S HERE!” Dustin yells from the front yard, and you can hear the sound of a car playing metal music on full blast getting closer, before cutting off completely.

You hand Nancy her toddler back, not trusting yourself to be able to hold her as your hands start to shake. A lump fills your throat, and it suddenly feels way hotter than it did a second ago. You’re surrounded by excited whispers and the rustling of Gareth getting into a cooler to grab a beer.

And then it’s the skin to skin contact of Mike brushing past you and the squealing of Max and Jane from the other side of the yard as two bodies emerge from around the side of the house. A usually bald head covered in a dark brown cowboy hat, followed by a mop of curls that bounce with excitement. Bodies flocked around him; you note that he’s taller than most, say for Mike and Argyle. Everyone is taking their turns to greet him, and you’re hit with a realization that this is a family. A weird, mixed found family, who clearly have a bond that can’t be broken by time, and you were lucky enough to be accepted by them.

“Hey, there little missy,” Wayne’s voice breaks you from your trance, his arms open expectantly. The normally gruff and distant man was all smiles today, for good reason.

“Hi Wayne,” you wrap your arms around him, patting him on the back before pulling away, “How was the drive?”

“Lord,” he says, shaking his head, “That boy ain’t changed a bit. Either talked my ear off or played music loud enough that I’ll need hearing aids.” He looked over to Eddie, who was still being mobbed by the other party guests, “But, it was worth it.”

You hum in agreement, watching as Robin talks to Eddie. She points your way, and before you can prepare yourself his gaze meets yours. Even from a distance you can see the sun hitting his eyes just right, honey brown orbs locked on you. You lift your hand up to give him a small wave, and the biggest grin you’ve ever seen spreads across his face. You’re sure your face must be beat red, and you shift your eyes suddenly feeling shy. Eddie places a hand on Dustin’s shoulder and moves him to the side, making a beeline to you and Wayne.

Gravity felt like it was magnifying with each step he made, and everything around him was blurry. Every nerve in your body felt like a live wire. You’re sure you weren’t even this nervous on your wedding day. You smooth out your dress again, the fabric brushing against your skin leaving a tingling feeling behind. Each stride he takes gives you an opportunity to examine him further, to see the dimples in his cheeks, the lines in the corners of his eyes where his smile reaches them, the littering of light freckles and other imperfections.

He stopped just in front of you, his body rocking back to maintain a space between you. His hands were tucked in his jean pockets with his arms tight to his body. It reminded you of a kid trying his hardest to keep his hands to himself.

“Hey,” his voice was even nicer in person.

“Hi.” It came out small. You were trying to be cool, but kept your head low to hide the smile on your face. He shifted where he stood, bending and twisting to force himself into your vision. The girlish giggle that came out of you was unrecognizable. You look up to him as he makes himself upright again. “It’s nice to finally meet you in person.”

He shuffles his feet, probably a nervous habit. “Yeah, no kidding,” his head tilts and he looks at you with one eye, “I know being locked up for 5 years didn’t really do a lot of good to me, but, uh, I hope that I still hold up to the pictures you’ve seen of me.”

“I’d say it wasn’t all bad,” you look him up and down playfully, “You look…mature. I’d venture to even call you handsome.” It was his turn to act bashful now, bringing a hand to rub against his stubble. The both of you laugh, exchanging glances before you speak again, “Was I what you were expecting?”

He leans his body back, the huge smile returning to dimple his cheeks again. “Are you kidding me? Even better than I imagined. You didn’t do yourself justice, ya know.”

“Stop, you’re gonna make me blush,” you whine and curl into yourself, kicking at the ground.

“Too late for that,” Steve says as he slaps Eddie’s shoulder, “Now, if the two of you are done pretending not to like each other over here, we got food to eat. Who wants a hamburger!”

The yard is alive with chatter and Eddie makes his rounds to catch up. One of the guys who you’re pretty sure is named Jeff, makes him shotgun a beer with him and everyone cheers when Eddie crushes the can on his head. “Henderson,” he yells pointing at Dustin in the pool, “you’re next! Gotta make up for all the lost time since I missed your 21st birthday!”

“That’s a lot of drinking to do,” Jane says with a worried look on her face. You look at her where she sits next to you on the edge of the pool and pat her back.

“It was nice knowing them, I guess.”

Max snorts from the other side of El, making all three of you erupt in a fit of giggles. You stop when you feel a hand on your shoulder. Looking up into the sweet chocolate eyes, he kneels down and you can smell the beer on his breath. “Hey, you doing okay? Me drinking isn’t gonna bother you, right? Do you want another water bottle?”

He’s been doing this for the last 2 hours, leaving his conversations to check in on you, even before he started drinking. Not that you were complaining, you relished in the attention he was giving you. Where at parties with Henry you were there to be seen and not heard, Eddie made you feel like the party was for you. Putting your plate together for you, standing just behind you when you talked in a group, undoing your shoes for you when you said you wanted to drip your feet in the pool. When you told him to stop hovering and enjoy his friends, he did so reluctantly, stealing glances your way like he was scared you’d be gone if his eyes weren’t on you.

“Eddie, I promise I can handle you and everyone else here drinking,” you give him a warm smile, “And I’m okay, thank you for asking.”

“Please drink Dustin under the table,” Lucas groans as he swims up to the edge of the pool, resting his chin on Max’s knee, “He thinks he can handle his alcohol well and I need to see you put him in his place.”

“Hey!” Dustin shouts as he exits the pool.

The night starts to wind down a few hours later. Some people are gone and others are sitting by the fire pit reminiscing on times you weren’t present for. You take it upon yourself as one of the only sober people to start picking up the stray cans and solo cups that had been scattered around the pool area and putting away any of the food that was still good. The sound of the sliding glass door opening caught your attention as you were cleaning up Steve’s kitchen. Eddie shut the door behind him, walking over to stand on the other side of the island.

“I was wondering where you ran off to,” he leaned on the counter top, propping his head in his hands with the dopiest grin.

“You’ve been slacking,” you tease as you place some dishes in the sink, “I think I’ve been cleaning for at least an hour now. Not doing a very good job at keeping tabs on me.”

“Okay, for the record,” he points a finger up and staggers a bit, “I could see you, and I wanted to stop you from cleaning. Buuuuuuuut, Robin told me you always clean up and get upset if anyone tries to stop you. So I figured I’d let you enjoy yourself.” He shrugged.

“I just respect Steve enough to not leave a mess. It is a little therapeutic in a way.” You move to stand closer to him, leaning against the edge of the counter perpendicular to him, arms just shy of touching. You watched as he fidgeted with a ring on his finger. “How is it going out there? It looked like Dustin and Gareth were passed out in their chairs.”

When he didn’t respond, you brought your attention up to meet his stare. His eyes were dark, the shine of the sun no longer bringing out the umber, now almost black under the warm light above him. They flickered as they stared into yours, back and forth like he was searching for an answer only you could give him. If you weren’t so acutely aware of your close proximity, you might not notice how he subtly leans closer, closer. You close your eyes.

“ED-DAYYYYYYYYYYY!”

The sudden noise was enough to make you jump almost out of your skin. You’re white knuckling the counter as you turn to see Dustin, Lucas, and Steve stumble inside, with Jane, Mike, and Max not far behind trying to help keep all three of them from falling over each other.

“Jesus H. CHRIST, Henderson!” Eddie screeches, slapping the top of the counter.

“Oh, there he is!” Dustin leans backwards, Jane holding him up, “Hey, guys, I found Eddie! He’s in here with his girlfriend! Oh shit where you guys in here suckin’ face? My bad my-”

“Okay, okay, come on lets get your shit together,” Eddie interrupts waving his hands around, “Or else you’re all sleeping on the floor.”

“I don’t wanna sleep on the floooor,” Steve whines like a child, throwing himself into Mike where they almost fall over.

“Well, it’s a good thing you have a bedroom here, dingus,” Robin walks backwards through the doorway, carrying a pair of feet with her. The feet belong to a very passed out Gareth, whose top half was being carried in by Jeff.

“Oh for fucks sake,” Eddie runs over to Gareth's side, picking him up and carrying him bridal style to the couch. You reel back as you watch him carry Gareth like he weighs nothing, his biceps flexing catching your attention. Damn, did it get hot in here?

You helped Robin get Steve up the stairs so she could put him to bed while the others got themselves situated. When you came down, you said your goodbyes to Mike, Will and Jane as they made their departure for the night. Max elected to stay with Lucas since she didn’t see well at night to drive, dragging him up to the spare bedroom. Gareth is still passed out on the couch, propped up with a towel under him in case he pukes. Jeff says he’s going to sit with him until he sobers up enough that he won’t ruin the interior of his new car.

Eddie got Dustin set up in another spare bedroom and made his way down the stairs. “God, my first day back and I can already tell nothing has changed.” He’s shaking his head, but the smile on his face gives him away.

“Are you usually the dad of the friend group?” You lean against the entryway wall, watching him as he walks over to you.

“How did you know?” He chuckled, putting up an arm and leaning into the doorway over you. The move was so smooth, and you felt the butterflies go straight from your stomach to between your legs. You sucked in a breath, “Oh, just a hunch.”

His eyes lock with yours for a moment, and his smile falters. He looks around for a moment, leaning over you to look into the living room, his chest pressing into you softly. Whatever he was looking for must not have been too important, bringing his attention back to you.

“So, I really hope I haven’t been reading into this wrong,” he says lowly, head nodding between the two of you, “‘cause I’ve been dying to do this all night.”

His hand cups your cheek as he leans in. He moves slowly, to give you an out if this isn’t what you want. But when you lean into him, he wastes no time closing the gap the rest of the way. His other hand moves from above you and lands on that spot on your neck and under your ear. His weight shifts, pressing you into the frame with his body and your hands to his chest, fisting the fabric to keep him in place. Your senses are flooded with dollar store detergent and his sweat after being out in the sun.

You never believed in that spark when you kissed someone before, but the way his plump, chapped lips move with yours has your body feeling like the 4th of July. And when his tongue swipes against your bottom lip, the taste of cheap beer mixes with the lemonade you were sipping earlier. He pulls away, just far enough to kiss you over and over and over and over amplified by the stickiness of your lip gloss that’s transferred to him. But you’re insatiable, and you chase him. Touch starved doesn’t even begin to touch it.

His hands move from your face down to your hips, moving you from the doorway to the darkness of the small hallway. Just in time as you heard the sliding glass door open and shut, then the sound of Jeff plopping down in one of the recliners. Eddie didn’t give you time to dwell on anything other than him, pulling your hips flush into his and grinding against you.

And, lord, you felt it.

The small gasp you let out has Eddie smirking into your kiss. He breaks away, leaning into your neck to whisper in your ear. “I’ve had a long time to think about all the things I want to do to you,” he bites at your earlobe and you moan, clenching your thighs.

“All the ways I want to touch you,” he kisses down your neck, “tease you. I bet you like being teased, don’t you?”

“N-no,” you whisper with a shake of your head. A whimper falls from your lips as his teeth gently scrape over a spot on your neck. “Don’t wanna be teased.”

He hums, kissing back up your neck to your lips again. “Awe,” he chuckles, eyes meeting with yours again, heavy lidded and pupils blown out, “you just want me to ruin that pussy, don’t you?”

Frantically nodding you press your lips back into his, but he pulls away leaving you to whine in frustration. “Easy, now, sweetheart. I’m just as eager as you, but I wanna do this right.” He grabs the skirt of your dress, pulling it up to get access to your legs. You don’t get the chance to protest before he’s picking you up. You wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his shoulders. The hardness in his pants is pressing directly into your core where you’re sure your panties must be soaked.

Not bothering to be stealthy Eddie carries you as fast as he can up the stairs. You can’t contain your giggles as he pushes you up against the door to his new bedroom. While stealing a few more kisses, he goes to grab the knob, but doesn’t get the chance when the door swings open behind you. He puts you down quickly to keep you from falling backwards, and you whip around to be met with a half awake Max.

“What the fuck,” she asks rubbing sleep from her eyes, “what’s going on?”

Eddie looks like a kicked puppy, his jaw slack and eyebrows knit together in a pout.

“I thought you guys left?”

“What? No? It’s way too dark. You know I can’t drive at night,” she crosses her arms looking at him confused.

“Damn it,” he looks at the door to his right, “and I put Henderson in the extra room.”

“Sorry, Max,” you speak up, “he was just trying to figure out where he was sleeping tonight. You can go back to sleep. Good night!”

She eyes you suspiciously before wishing you a goodnight and closing the door. When you turn to look at Eddie, you see that he’s about to open the other bedroom door.

“Eddie, what are you doing,” you whisper yell. He hesitates before he reaches the door knob.

“I’m gonna get Henderson and put him in bed with Harrington.” He goes to grab the knob and you reach for his hand to stop him. He looks distressed, but you can’t help but laugh. It had only been a little over a year that you’d gone without any sexual contact with another person, but you could clearly tell that Eddie was struggling after going as long as he had with the opportunity dangling right in front of his face.

“Can I make a suggestion before you start displacing people in their sleep?”

He nods, hopeful eyes on you.

“My apartment is like 10 minutes away,” you step closer to press yourself against him, “There’s a gas station on the way. We can stop and-”

Before you can finish he’s grabbing you by the middle and carrying you over his shoulder down the stairs and straight out the door, not bothering to close the front door behind him.

“Which car is yours?” He’s swinging you around playfully as he looks at all the cars lined up on the street and in the driveway.

“I’ll tell you, but we’re not going to get anywhere without my keys!”

“Fuck!” He smacks your ass before placing you on the ground. “Where are they?”

“In my purse on the counter-”

He takes off, running through the front door and back faster than you think you’ve ever seen anyone move. Tossing your purse to you he follows you as you move to where you parked on the road, pulling out your keys and unlocking the door.

“Eddie, hold on,” you giggle, pushing your butt into him in a futile attempt to get your door open. Your keys jingle as you try and get the right one into the lock to your apartment. Eddie’s hands were everywhere as he pressed himself further into you, kissing up and down your neck and shoulder. “It’s only going to take longer to get inside if you’re distracting me-hee~”

He relented with a whine, chin resting on your shoulder and hands lingering on your hips as he waited patiently. Once you finally opened the door you stepped in and flicked on a light, Eddie hot on your trail. When you turned around to face him, you were expecting to be met with his lust filled eyes, but you were surprised to find him looking around your apartment with wide eyes. You took the time to admire him again, much like you did earlier. He looked like he belonged there, like he fit with the cozy atmosphere you had cultivated since you moved in. He would have looked so out of place in the sterile white of your home with Henry.

“It’s cute,” he says looking at some of the artwork you have hanging on the walls, “exactly what I was expecting.”

“Oh, so you were expecting me to take you back to my apartment?” You eye him with a smirk. He looks down at his feet before tilting his head to look at you.

“Only for the last four months.”

Chills run up your body. He’s been thinking about you, like…this, for 4 months.

“Only four months?” You step to him, craning your neck to look into his eyes. The pink on his cheeks more prominent this close.

“Well, sort of. Honestly been thinking about you since you sent me that letter about yourself, what you looked like. Again, you didn’t do yourself justice,” he leans down to kiss your nose, “But, I, uh, didn’t really start thinking about you until we got to talk for real.” His hands snaked around your waist, sliding down to grab handfuls of your ass.

“Something about your voice,” he leaned in for a quick kiss, “hearing you laugh at my dumb jokes,” another kiss, “the way you say my name. “Hi Eddie.”” He mocks you, exaggerating the sultry inflection of your words. Smacking a hand on his chest, you both laugh, and he pulls you in closer.

“Well I’ve been thinking about you longer,” you say as you pull on the hem of his shirt. His brows quirk up at you in surprise.

“Really? And I thought I was pushing my luck tonight. Was worried all our talking was just you being nice to me.”

“God, Eddie, you’ve been away for way too long if you couldn’t tell I’ve been flirting with you by now.”

“Hey,” he raises his hands defensively, “I’ve never gotten my hopes up about a girl flirting with me before, and I wasn’t about to start.”

It hurt your heart to hear him say that. Robin said Eddie wasn’t super popular in high school, and didn’t have the best luck in the dating department before he was incarcerated. Which was a shame because he’s such a sweet guy and deserves to feel wanted. The ache between your legs came back when you realized that you might get to be the first person ever to make him feel that way.

You lean up to kiss him again, lingering there for a moment before you take a step back. He leans in to chase you,but you keep taking steps back. When he opens his eyes, he sees the mischievous look on your face and smiles wildly. Just as you turn to take off to your room, he launches after you, making you squeal as he chases you down the short hallway. Once passed the threshold of your bedroom doorway he wrapped his arms around you, planting kisses all over your face. You giggled as he walked you to the edge of your bed, planting a kiss on your lips and guiding you down, down, until you were sat.

The mood shifted from playful to hot the moment his tongue slipped out in search of yours. His hands were suddenly on your knees, bunching and shifting the fabric of your dress. The metal of his rings was cold against the hot skin of your thighs. His fingertips felt rough to the touch compared to your smooth skin, the sensation lingering as his hand crept closer and closer to where you wanted him, needed him.

“Holy shit,,” he inhaled sharply though his nose when his fingers reached the fabric of your panties,“This is happening.” An incredulous chuckle left his lips, and he let his fingers loop the waistband, snapping it back to your skin.

Just when you thought he was going to take the plunge, his hands continued to creep up your body. His touch was feather light, gliding up your sides, slowly, slowly, until you felt him right under your rib cage, below the cups of your bra. He hesitated for a moment, and you weren’t sure he even realized that he had stopped kissing you. The low light of the moon shining through your blinds illuminated him just enough that you could see him swallow. Where had all that big talk gone from earlier.

“Eddie.”

His shift to yours and you hold his stare. Your hands move down your own body, gliding over his hands from the top of your dress, down, until you grab the hem of the dress yourself. His grip tightens as you pull the fabric up, up, exposing your legs, your stomach, chest, until it’s up and over your head. You toss the offending garment to the floor, and meet Eddie’s eyes again. Leaning back on one hand, you grab the collar of his shirt, pulling him in so his lips just ghosted over yours.

“I thought you’d been thinking all this time about what you wanna do to me?”

That was all exactly what was needed to break Eddie of his nerves. One of his tattooed hands flew from your ribs to your chin, fingers squishing your cheeks to purse your lips. He looked down at you over his bottom lashes, lips curling into a devilish smile.

“I’ll do my best, but I can’t promise to be gentle. Tell me if you need me to stop. Got it?”

You shook your head the best you could in his grip, your thighs rubbing together at his shift in demeanor. His lips were on yours in an instant, hand slipping from your face, down your neck, shoulder, before slipping behind your back. He shifted his weight, placing a leg between yours so his knee was fully pressing against your heat. His other hand snaked around your side, meeting his other hand. In one swift motion the constricting hold your bra had on you was gone, and the weight of your chest shifted as the garment lay flimsily against you. You shimmied your shoulders, lifting one arm out of the strap, and then the other. Eddie grabbed it, flinging it off of where it still covered you as if it personally offended him.

His mouth was on you again. Starting at your lips, moving down your neck, nipping, biting all the way to the swell of your breast. His hands make their move, wasting no time as they began to grope and pull. He took a nipple in one hand and did an experimental roll, the sensation causing you to arch into him, and your hips roll into his knee, hitting that hard spot just right against your clit. Your eyes cross for a moment, and you barely get time to recover before he’s taking your other nipple into his mouth, flicking his tongue in tandem with the rolls of the other. All the sensations creating a perfect symphony of pleasure that you hadn’t felt in years, if ever.

You don’t hold back as moans fall from your lips, and they only egg Eddie on more. His mouth releases your nipple with a wet pop causing you to whine out in protest, only made worse when his whole body pulls away to stand at the edge of your bed. Even in the mostly dark room, you’re still able to enjoy the show as he strips himself of his shirt.

His biceps flexing already had you feeling hot, but your breath hitches in your chest as you take in Eddie’s bare chest. Some of the tattoos you recognize from the picture of him and Steve, but there are new pieces that fill in a good majority of his chest and parts of his stomach. He’s tone, even more so now than in his earlier twenties. Your head spins as you follow his happy trail down to where he’s undoing his belt. When he pushes his jeans down to the ground, your jaw hits the floor when you see the tightly pitched tent in his boxers.

When he clears his throat, you quickly shut your jaw and look at him with embarrassment. “See something you like,” he smirks. Your head nods dumbly, still in awe at the man before you. He rubs his hand over his stubble shyly, curling into his shoulder at your admission.

However, his bashfulness didn’t last long as he leaned forward, grabbed you by the calves and pulled you until your ass was at the edge of the mattress, making you lose your balance and fall flat on the bed. He holds your legs up, moving to stand between them. Leaning forward he kissed you on the lips, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth when he pulled away. Then, in a move you weren’t expecting, he dropped on his knees and began kissing on your inner thighs.

“W-what are you doing?” you asked as you propped yourself on your elbows, watching him make little marks on your skin.

“What do you mean?” he doesn’t look up, only switching to your other leg as he moved closer to your clothed slit.

“Sh-shit,” you whimpered as his mouth landed on your mound, licking over where you’d soaked the center of your panties, “w-hat are you doing down there?”

“Oh, pretty girl,” he looked up at you from between your legs, “I’m going to eat this wonderful meal that you’ve so kindly warmed up for me.” Before you know it, he’s biting and pulling the material away from your cunt, leaning back and pulling away just enough to pull them off.

And then he’s on you, wasting no time getting his mouth on you. A hand flew straight to the curls on the top of his head as he began in ministrations. His flattened tongue licked a slow stripe all the way from your hole to your clit, stopping on the bud to flick his tongue back and forth.

“H-ooooohh my god,” your words came out breathy, and you subconsciously ground your hips into this tongue as he lit the fire in you. “Eddie- t-that, ah, don’t stop!”

He hummed into you as his tongue slid down to your hole, wasting no time plunging his tongue inside. Your breath hitches as the breach, curses falling from your lips as your head lulls back. He pulls away for a moment, a thumb gliding to your clit to keep you going as he speaks.

“Baby, has anyone ever eaten you out before?”

“N-no-o, ffffuck, never,” you stutter out, lifting your head to look at him again. You were met with an expression that you could only describe as wild excitement. His eyes practically had hearts in them.

“Well, shit, I was just going to get you warmed up for me, but I’m definitely gonna make you cum on my face.”

Your face was flush red with embarrassment. Henry never did anything like this with you. He barely made you cum in anyway, leaving you to get yourself off on your own. So the idea of cumming on Eddie’s face only stoked the flames in you more.

His mouth wrapped around your clit once again, sucking and licking, making you cry his name with the remaining breath in your lungs. When you didn’t think it could get better, you felt the roughness of Eddie’s finger at your entrance, pushing in, and working you to the knuckle. The curling motion of his pointer was like throwing gas on the flame. Losing the strength in your arms, you flopped onto the bed with a gasp, hands shooting to grip in Eddie’s short curls. “Oh, oh fuck — ah!”

Eddie let out a small moan when you pulled. He was smirking against your mound, eyes watching you wriggle and writhe before him. You were so responsive to all his touches and he was sure that he was leaving a stain on the inside of boxers from how much you were turning him on. He needed you. Bad. But he wanted to make you melt under him first. So he added another finger and could feel the way you clenched around him, how your whole body was going stiff, that he was so close to getting you right where he wanted you.

His name spewed from your mouth between some curses when the flame finally took over and had you seeing white. You clenched your thighs around his head, shaking as your orgasm ripped through you. Broken gasps and cries barely left your lips before breaking out in a pant, chest heaving as you come down from the high.

Eddie stood from where he was between you, taking the moment to grab the condoms that he shoved in his back pocket earlier in the car. Taking one and setting on the night stand, he turned to find you watching him. You already looked so fucked out, but there was anticipation in your eyes as he approached you. Taking his time to tease you, he pulled his boxers down slowly, watching your eyes widen when it sprung out and smacked against his stomach. He wanted to say something funny at the look of concern on your face, but all that came out was, “It’ll fit, promise.”

Wordlessly you nodded. Watching Eddie saunter over to you as he put the condom on felt like watching a predator about to devour his prey. Once he was back where he belonged, he leaned down to kiss you, hand on your cheek. The lingering taste of your own release on his lips. There was hunger, passion in his kiss. No words, and yet it felt like he was pouring his heart out to you.

You hummed in surprise as you felt the fat head of his cock nudging at your entrance, begging for permission. You rolled your hips with a small whimper against his lips.

“Oh, fu-u-uck,” the words stuttered from his mouth as he finally pushed himself inside. Your breath caught at the feeling of him splitting you open, a new heat igniting in your body. Even with the condom you could feel every bump and curve, how hard he was as he pushed himself into you. When he was fully inside, opened your eyes and were met with the prettiest sight; Eddie’s face mere inches from yours, looking strained, yet relieved, all just from being inside of you.

While he was trying to regain his composure, you were starting to get impatient under him. You start to grind against him, and his hands are instantly at your hips to stop you. “Ah— hold on sweetheart, I’m afraid I’m gonna bust too quick if you do that.”

You pout your lip at him, continuing to roll against him. The sureness he had when he had his mouth on you dissipated as he reveled in your movements. He dropped his head, forehead resting on your shoulder, his little noises right in your ear went straight to your core, “Shit, that’s right—oh use my big cock to fuck yourself. Fuck you feel so g-g-good.”

It didn’t take long of your movements to get him to finally snap, pulling back and trusting into you with a loud smack. You arched your back at the intensity of his movements, arms wrapping around him as he sets a relentless pace. Each thrust into your cunt was punctuated by your quick moans as the air was being knocked out of you over and over.

His grip on your hips loosened, weight shifting as his hands snake under your arms, gripping your shoulders to amplify each thrust. When his eyes meet yours they’re wild, feral as he’s lost himself in his own pleasure. It was like nothing you’ve ever experienced before, another person’s carnal need for you.

Your second orgasm hit you like a freight train. It was back arching, toe curling, open mouth but nothing comes out pleasure that you’ve only read about in the dirty novels you’d read alone in the bathtub. You’re pretty sure your eyes crossed at one point. His eyes are locked on your face, watching it contort in pleasure as he feels you fluttering around him. He wants to hold out, but it’s too much, and his movements become erratic. Soon after he stills his movements, hips flush with your core and moans into your ear. You can feel the way he twitches inside of you, even with the condom.

Body going slack on top of you, his weight was comforting as your chests rose and fell in rhythm. His grip on your shoulders shifts to around your rib cage and pulls you into him in an embrace so he drag you up the bed with him. The two of you lay there silently, and you stare into his big brown eyes as they shine in the moonlight. Your heart swells with fondness as he looks at you like you’ve hung the moon. His stare is so intense you have to tuck your head in his chest. He wraps an arm around you, tucking his chin on the top of your head.

You didn’t want the moment to end. In less than 24 hours, this man with his arms around you has made you feel more wanted than you ever had in the entirety of your marriage. Deep down, you knew there was a possibility that this was all that it was going to be. And over the last few months, you told yourself that you would be okay if this was all he wanted. But now that you’re finally here, in the moment, you’re starting to realize that this man could ruin your life.

Gently pushing away from him, Eddie gives you a confused look as you climb out of the bed, picking up his clothes.

“Uh, what are you doing?” He sits up from the bed cautiously.

“Oh,” his question caught you off guard, “well, I, uh, when Henry and I would, you know, he would have me wash his clothes after…”

Eddie reels back, looking at you with shock, “What the hell? I thought you were his wife, not his maid.”

You tilt your head, “What do you mean? All wives do this for their husbands? Not that you’re my husband, I just--it’s just out of habit.”

He’s got himself on the edge of the bed, leaning forward he reaches out for you, tattooed hand waiting for you to take it. You look between it and his face, before placing his clothes in a neat pile on the nightstand. When you take his hand in yours, he pulls you into him, taking your breath away with a kiss, pulling you down into the bed with him once again.

“See, I thought you were getting my clothes to kick me out,” he whispers as you nestle into his side. You shook your head, smiling against his tattooed chest.

“No, definitely not. You’re going to be lucky if I let you leave now,” you giggle as you trace the lines that cover his body. His chest jumps, and when you look up at him he’s smiling from ear to ear.

August 12th, 1995

Roses covered every shop, cart, and building at the fairgrounds today. The sun was beating down on you hard. It was practically boiling out, making you wish you could peel off the little clothing you decided to wear. The numerous bodies moving around you wasn’t helping, along with the endless food trucks putting out heat as the air filled with the smell of steak fries, hot dogs, and the food you were looking forward to the most: funnel cake.

Standing off to the side in the shade holding Eddie’s sketch book, you kept your eyes on the line, watching your boyfriend stick out like a sore thumb in the crowd of Hawkins citizens. Even though you told him you could wait in line yourself, he told you to find a nice spot for the two of you to enjoy your food out of the sun.

When you found a little spot in the grass under a tree, you waved to him to show where you were. He gave you a thumbs up, so you took that as the okay to take your seat. Just before you do, you hear some yelling coming from a few feet away.

“Mrs.Creel! Mrs.Creel!”

A group of your students from this last years class ran up to you, and you were suddenly very aware of how little clothing you were wearing.

“Oh, hi kids,” you greeted, adjusting yourself to hide a little skin. The kids didn’t seem to care much as they talked to you about their summers and how excited they were to be moving up to the eighth grade.

“Why can’t you be our teacher again next year?” Cindy asks.

“Yeah, I have Mr.Rupert this year and he’s so old and boring,” Suzy groans.

You laughed at their words, but felt a tug at your heart from their kindness. You hadn’t even noticed that Eddie was approaching until all four sets eyes widened, looking just behind you. When you turn around, you quickly take some of the load off of Eddie as he juggles your food and drinks.

“Woah,” you hear Collin say. You have to stifle your giggle as you realize that these kids probably didn’t expect boring Mrs.Creel to be with a guy like the one kissing her on the temple.

“Eddie,” you say, turning back to the group, “these are some of the kids from my class last year. Kids, this is my boyfriend, Eddie.”

Their jaws drop as their suspicions are confirmed. Eddie gives them a friendly hello, and you notice the two girls looking at each other.

“Wait,” Paul interrupts, “Your boyfriend? I thought it was “Mrs” Creel?”

Oh lord. You were hoping that you wouldn’t have to explain much since you’d have a new class this year, but you forget how observant middle schoolers can be.

“You’re correct, Paul. I am married, but,” you look up to Eddie, who gives you a nod, “But, I won’t be much longer. Hopefully that is.”

“Oh, okay,” Paul shrugs.

“What are we supposed to call you then?” Suzy chimes.

“I’m going to be going back to my maiden name, but you can call me Mrs.Creel if you want to. I know it can be confusing-”

“It’s okay,” Cindy insists, “we’ll just tell everyone that they can suck it up and call you by the name you want to be called.”

After the kids leave and you and Eddie stuff your faces, Eddie tugs you close, kissing the top of your head, his lips moving against your scalp as he talks.

“I don’t know if you remember, but I told you before that your students didn’t think you were lame.”

You sucked in a breath and laughed, “Yeah, I guess you were right. I’ve always been hard on myself when it comes to my students, though.”

“You’re hard on yourself with everything, Sweetheart.” He takes your hand in his before you can pull away, already getting used to your antics when he teases you.

As the sun finally starts to set, the two of you start to make your way back to your car. Eddie has proven himself to be quite the gentleman in the last few weeks. He opens your car door for you once you’ve gotten Teddie Munson, the giant teddy bear that Eddie one for you throwing darts at balloons, safely placed in your back seat. Once inside, he jogs to the passenger door and jumps in. The drive home was full of laughter and conversation, only winding down as you approached Steve’s place.

This had become your least favorite part of the night. Eddie had forgotten that his newly assigned probation officer was going to come and visit him the day after he was released. So when he was at your apartment instead of the address listed on his paperwork, he almost got thrown back in jail on violation. Thankfully, between you and Steve talking with him, he let Eddie off with but with one stipulation.

So Eddie had to stay at Steve’s house for the next six months as punishment. It wasn’t the worst thing, as you were welcomed by Steve to stay whenever you liked. But, with how vocal the two of you liked to be in bed, you could really only get away with it when Steve and Robin were both gone. And it was only going to be more difficult once the school year started.

“Hey, maybe if I’m really good, proving that I’m lookin’ for work and all that, maybe he’ll let me off my punishment early,” he shrugs as you walk into Steve’s, night bag in tow.

“Maybe,” you lament, “I wouldn’t do anything to risk it, though. You may piss him off if you even ask.”

“Ugh,” Eddie groans as you follow him up the stairs, “If I ever see Rick on the street he’s fucking dead.”

You just shake your head. He always says something to that effect whenever his probation prevents him from spending more time with you.

“I wish you could move in here. It would make things so much easier.”

That was the other thing he said.

“Sorry, babe,” you shrugged, grabbing your night clothes. You stood by the bedroom door as he rummaged around for something to wear, “I can’t afford to break my lease. Besides, you might get bored of me and kick me to the curb. It’s probably for the best that we don’t rush into anything.”

You don’t even see him coming when he grabs your arms, lightly pushing you into the wall, lips pressing firmly into yours. You hum against his lips, and when he pulls away, he looks at you with those eyes. Big, brown eyes that you wish you could stare into forever.

“I’ll agree to the no rushing, but you told me yourself that I was gonna be hard pressed to get you to let me go. I’m keeping the same deal on my end. Only way I’m letting you leave is if I royally fuck up or I’m on my death bed. Got it, Sweetheart?”

Nodding, you pull him into you again, hoping that your lips could tell him how you feel without having to speak the words. That you were scared, nervous to give yourself to someone so wholly again. The pain of losing him would probably do you in. But with how everything felt so natural with Eddie, so not forced, that you wanted to at least try.

thanks for reading!

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #inmate!eddie munson #inmate!eddie munson x teacher reader #eddie munson x teacher!reader #eddie munson fan fic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson st #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson fic

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undiscovered-horizon · 2 years ago

Text

In Emerald Hearts, Emerald Minds - Nikolai Lantsov x Reader

[mentions of unwanted advances + suggested groping + suggestive/sexual (consensual) themes]

☽ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ☾

SUMMARY: When Vasily asks you to forget his half-brother and marry him instead, you escape the Little Palace along Alina. Nikolai realizes something strange is going on when Kaz mentions seeing a similar emerald ring on the woman that came with the Sun Summoner. With how much you and Nikolai have been running in circles to find each other, the reunion aboard Volkvolny feels almost fated.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 4.6k

>>Grishaverse-inspired playlist<<

It feels like the Winter Fete has been going on forever. The champagne keeps on being poured, the guests keep on dancing and the circus acts just keep on performing as though tomorrow is a mere mirage, a concept of a certain time period that never actually comes. Inside those walls of gold and marble, the misery devouring all of Ravka seems like nothing beyond a mad nightmare - something so removed from reality, it’s hilarious in its ridiculousness. Everyone is so carefree and happy you almost take their joy as your own.

Almost.

The orchestra begins playing Waltz of the Flowers and you feel your throat tighten. Despite doing your best not to, your mind relives that fateful night when everything changed. For the longest time, you’d been claiming that the change was for the better but now, standing alone for another year in a row and watching the dashing aristocrats spin to the music, you’re not so sure anymore.

“You really need to stop doing this,” Nikolai says firmly. Although his tone is decisive and clearly unwilling to accept defiance, a pronounced hint of amusement lives between his words - a thread of light-heartedness, one might say.

Your eyebrows gently furrow. “Doing what?”

“Smiling at me like that. Any longer and I might ask you to marry me.”

It feels like you’re about to burst at the seams. Trying to contain your emotions, and failing at it quite horribly, you bite your lower lip. “I might say yes.”

“Where have you gone, Kolya?” you whisper under your breath. The gloss of vacancy covering your eyes blurs the dancing bodies into one mass of faceless strangers. But it also makes you not notice someone approaching you.

“I find it quite admirable.”

Vasily’s voice startles you. To your now-gone relief, you didn’t have the displeasure of running into him all evening - until now. If you were to list all of the things about the older Lantsov son that makes your skin crawl, you’d be done by the time another Winter Fete is organized. The top of the list, however, deserves to be mentioned as it’s an inseparable part of your every interaction with the prince: he’s quite adamant and crude in his desire to be more than just a future brother-in-law to you.

“Excuse me?” you stutter out.

That patronizing look on his face is now accompanied by a cocky half-grin as he realizes he caught you off-guard. “Your devotion to my brother. For all we know, he might be already dead, Saints’ protect him.”

“Don’t even say that!” you hiss at him. Right after, you look around to check whether one of the guests has noticed your unpleasant exchange.

Despite what you’ve just said, you know he’s right. There’s no way you can be sure that your Kolya is either dead or alive. Perhaps this is the detail further ripping your heart apart - you don’t know anything about his fate; you’re mourning, although you’re yet to see the coffin. You haven’t for a few years now and each passing month of silence only made court gossip more cruel and bold.

“All I’m saying, dearest,” Vasily begins quietly as his hand drags along your arm, “is that the moment the news of Nikolai’s death reaches the Grand Palace, you’ll be thrown out. On the other hand, I can make you the Queen of Ravka. And unlike my brother, I won’t disappear off the face of the Earth and forget about his beloved lady.”

The word of endearment is dripping with sarcasm as it leaves his chapped lips. His breath reeks of alcohol and you unknowingly turn your head away. Vasily seems to think you’re about to leave his side, so his hand tightly grips your arm. The hold is almost bruising. He yanks you even closer towards himself.

“Kolya hasn’t forgotten about me,” you say in a shaky voice. Maybe he’s not as foolish as he appears and Vasily is genuinely trying to break you down.

The prince studies your face for a moment, definitely noticing how shaken you are. His eyes have the strangest glint to them - something between desire and contempt. “Is that so?” he barely stifles a grim laugh. “He would have written you a letter if that were true, no?”

Tears sting your eyes. Vasily is certainly smarter, or at least more cruel, than he lets on. He knows exactly what to say to get into your head. It’s a startling difference between him and Nikolai - only one of them does what he can to keep a smile on your face. Well, did.

His dirty, rough hand grabs your chin. Vasily forces you to look at him, his smile wavers upon noticing your desperation. “Consider your options, зайка,” he purrs out. The prince’s other hand trails your face. “The choice is yours.”

A tear falls down your cheek. You feel it rolling across your skin and you silently hope the guests surrounding you are watching this scene. Then, you lean in even closer to Vasily’s face. The whisper leaves your lips like a viper’s venomous hiss: "I will marry you the day you lay his dead body at my feet."

To your surprise, Vasily drops his hands and takes a step back. Despite the self-assured smile on his face, you can see the fury inside his eyes. “As you wish.” He bows curtly, turns on his heel and marches away, undoubtedly looking for another glass of alcohol and a lady naive enough to warm his bed.

The palace suddenly feels stuffy and overcrowded; the music is too loud, the plethora of smells make your head spin.

Outside. You need to get outside.

Bumping into several guests and mumbling half-coherent apologies, you run through the halls of the Little Palace. When the cold, night air hits your flushed cheeks, only then do you stop. Taking in a deep breath, you can actually feel your thoughts becoming clearer.

With each gust of freezing wind, all the anger and sadness is leaving your shaking body. Vasily just wanted to get a rise out of you and, as much as you don’t want to admit it, he succeeded. Unlike he claims, Nikolai surely is alive. Maybe bruised or sick or not sleeping well but as long as there’s no news about him being dead, he is as alive as one can be. The same starry sky hangs above your and his heads. Perhaps, in this small moment of longing, he’s thinking about you too. Wherever he is.

A tired sigh leaves your lips. You’re about to turn around and go back inside when a silhouette moving in the night catches your attention. The shape is swift although careful like a lizard approaching a fly. You see them looking around before running for another few meters only to hide behind a bush or piece of architecture.

Curious and a little scared, you follow the stranger towards one of the carriages. Quietly, you get close enough to grab their wrist. The shape lets out a gasp and turns around to look at you.

“Alina?!” you whisper. What in Saints’ mercy is she doing? You look at her warm, casual clothes and the bag on her back. “Are you running away?”

“I need to leave,” she answers equally quietly. Her voice as well as her stare is filled with certainty - she’s convinced beyond reasonable doubt this is the right thing to do. “Please, don’t try to stop me.”

You let go of her hand. “Stop you?” A dry chuckle leaves your lips. “I’m coming with you.”

“What?” she deadpans. Alina is staring at you with a vacant stare and her mouth slightly agape. Apparently exchanging royal comforts for hay and stolen apples is unthinkable.

“If I have to spend one more day around Vasily, I will murder someone.”

Alina slowly nods her head - she can definitely understand the sentiment. A dimwitted Fjerdan would have more charm than the older prince. But then she squints her eyes, looking at you with a sense of scepticism.

“Out there, there won’t be warm beds and three-course dinners, you know?”

“I know,” you answer with a careless shrug. Loitering and wandering isn’t for ladies of your sort, it’s like throwing a finless fish into a tank with sharks. Despite that, you’re quite convinced the means justify the end, at least in this scenario. “But out there is my Kolya. And I’m done politely waiting for him.”

A shadow of sadness covers her face. If there’s anyone who can understand your plight, it’s her. In fact, she is luckier than you - she saw her lover maybe an hour ago. Pleasant or unpleasant, the meeting confirmed to her that Mal is at least alive. It’s not a privilege you could afford.

“Then let’s go,” she says to you before opening the chest in the back of the carriage. Forgetting all of your etiquette and social standing, you climb into the compartment with her. Towards adventure or death, you’re going somewhere.

“The ring gave you away,” Kaz announces. “It’s too expensive for a bodyguard.”

Jesper knits his eyebrows together, suddenly remembering something. He leans towards Kaz but speaks a little too loudly for the question to be inconspicuous: “Didn’t that girl wear the same-”

When Kaz’s cold glare meets Jesper’s squinted eyes, the dark-skinned man immediately closes his mouth halfway through the question. Both of them sit back as they were but the cat is already out of the bag. Well, not entirely - half of it is peeking out of the metaphorical sack.

Nikolai looks between them with unmissable suspicion. Although he’s heard enough to be aware of the possibility that the Sun Summoner isn’t travelling by herself, this is the first time either of the Crows admits it.

His heart begins to beat slightly quicker: Alina run away from the Little Palace along with another woman and that lady was wearing a royal jewel at the time. As long as Vasily didn’t lose his signet on one of his distasteful escapades, the course of events points to only one person - you. Shoving his restless excitement into the deepest chasms of his heart, Nikolai manages to remain his composure:

“Who was wearing that ring?” The prince-turned-privateer unknowingly fiddles with the heavy jewellery on his finger. Noticing the Crows’ reluctance, he makes them an offer: “If you tell me who you saw wearing an emerald ring, I might, say, give you ten minutes to escape.” Nikolai vaguely gestures to the closed window on his right-hand side.

Kaz knows there’s no point in lying any longer. The man in front of him is not only well-informed but also smarter than he looks, making the Crow wonder whether he also knows the answer to this question but prefers to play some kind of a game. In any event, he’s done his part of the deal and his ex-accomplices are left to their own devices. Additionally, he could really use those ten minutes. “A young woman that accompanied Alina Starkov. High-born, confident, decisive. Not a Grisha as far as I know.”

“Not a Lantsov, obviously,” Jesper chips in.

Brekker’s keen eyes catch the barely noticeable change in Sturmhond’s expression - the corner of his mouth merely stuttered up and down but it is enough to tell Kaz as much as he needs:

“You know her.”

Know her? If Nikolai had a weaker grip on his emotions at the moment, he’d laugh until his stomach and diaphragm hurt and then he’ll burst with laughter once more, unspeakably joyous that he might get to see her sooner than he thought. Yes, he does know her but in the way heart knows blood and lungs know air. She’s the ligament that keeps his bones together, the fibres that construct his muscles, the very blood that runs in his veins. Does the Moon simply know the stars? Do trees know their roots and branches?

But for now, he needs to stay focused.

“Not really,” Sturmhond answers while scrunching his nose. “Many aristocrats wear a ring like that. While I may know of a lot of them, I hardly know anything about them.”

Kaz fights back a mocking half-grin begging to twist his thin lips. “I’d argue that an emerald in Ravka is a rather rare gem.”

“Hers is probably genuine. Mine’s stolen.”

Silence falls between the three men. Nikolai and Kaz are staring each other down, battling in some kind of war of wits and nerves, waiting for the other to give in. Jesper is stealing glances at both of them, feeling the cold tension rise in the air.

Against his deep-seated desire, Kaz doesn’t inquire further about the emeralds or the strange coincidence that the two enigmatic characters wearing them might know each other. He sits back in the chair, his shoulders visibly drop. As much as he’d love to dig deeper, he’d much rather get out of here and reclaim his freedom that is now endangered.

“Well, gentlemen,” Nikolai begins in an upbeat tone, “your ten minutes start now.”

Without saying anything else, he leaves the room. Only then, when the dark, wooden door close behind him, does he let suppressed emotions wash over him. A quiet chuckle brushes past his lips and for a moment even tears sting his eyes. Delight, worry, relief - conflicting sensations merge into one, completely overpowering flame burning inside his chest.

Maybe he doesn’t have the Sun Summoner and he still needs to come up with a plan to catch her but Nikolai hasn’t been this happy for a while now: his солиышко is alright, still making the world brighter and warmer. If he can get to Alina Starkov, he might see her again, although he begins to wonder whether she wishes to see him after all those years of silence and ignorance. But if he can see her, just witness the marvel of her entire being even for one last second, he’ll be cured of the longing and loneliness that has been gnawing at him ever since he left Os Alta.

You’re following the Shu man to what you assume is his captain’s cuddy. The ship creeks and groans under the weight of the crew as well as the power of the waves. The bussing crewmen spare the three of you a glance, only to show disinterest and go back to their duties. It’s a nice change compared to the kerchen ship you travelled on to Novyi Zem, where the captain asked Alina and you to stay under the deck because of the sailors’ superstition. After getting off the ship, it took you a good week to wash out the reek of cured cod from your clothes and hair. Sometimes you still felt like you can smell it in the air, even in the dusty wind sweeping through Novyi Zem.

Your ‘guide’ pushes the door and they swing open with a creak, the list of the ship aiding the motion. Except for the squeaky hinges, probably rusting faster than anyone can manage, Volkvolny is in good shape. In fact, it looks brand new - no mould or woodworms.

“Captain, request for charter,” the stocky stranger announces with a hint of amusement or excitement in his voice. Despite his imposing visage, the Shu man has made a good impression on you but the long sword on his back kept you vigilant against getting too comfortable in his company.

Only when he moves to the side, presenting the three of you to his captain, do you see the face of the infamous Sturmhond.

You want to laugh. In fact, you have to clench your fists to stop yourself from bursting out with laughter. This situation feels like the strangest coincidence that you can think of, which in turn makes you suspect that it’s not a coincidence at all. Because what are the odds?

Nikolai’s face momentarily brightens up when he recognizes you, a new glint lights up his eyes. He looks different than you remember but in all the right ways: his shoulders look broader and his hair is longer, curling in a way that makes him appear more infantile. You remembered him as a handsome man but the Nikolai in front of you is beautiful enough to be considered unreal.

He's staring into you like a deer caught in headlights until Tolya hands him Alina’s unusual means of payment. As Nikolai is turning the piece of jewellery in his fingers, you notice another change: his hands look rougher, definitely scarred from all the adventures you hope you’re yet to hear about.

The blond prince turns his attention back to Alina, Mal and you. “A gold hairpin can get you anywhere. But an emerald ring?” He gestures to you. “It can get you everywhere.”

“It’s not for sale,” you answer, although you know he’s not trying to buy it. After all, he’s the one that gave it to you.

“I don’t want it.” Nikolai shakes his head. Then, a flirty smile appears on his face. “Looks better on you anyway, doll.”

You’re about to respond to his remark when his attention is once again placed on Alina. “Now, Tolya says you’re looking for a charter. Where are we sailing?”

Alina begins the story with ‘the creation of the world’ as your mother used to say: the Little Palace, Darkling, Morozova’s amplifiers and the Fold. Nikolai nods along, never giving away that he’s privy to most of the story. He doesn’t believe in the Sea Whip at first but that’s hardly his fault - not too long ago people wouldn’t believe in the existence of the Sun Summoner and now she’s standing beside you, nervously rubbing her hand. As you have expected from the moment you saw that Nikolai is Sturmhond, he agrees to the insanity of taking up the quest to catch the amplifier.

“Tolya will show you around.” He sends you off. You’re about to follow your friends out of the cuddy when he adds: “You, emerald lady, I’d like to talk to in private.”

Alina gives you a concerned look (‘blink twice if you need help’) but you only smile and nod at her in response. With Mal tugging at her arm, she reluctantly leaves you and Sturmhond alone.

The moment the door closes behind Tolya and your friends, Nikolai runs around his desk towards you, engulfing you in a bone-crushing hug. His hand threads through your hair, pushing your head further into the crook of his neck. Even if you tried, there’s no way you can pull away or even move. Taking a deep breath, you smell the familiar fragrance of his cologne but now it’s mixed with the scent of resin, saltwater and seaweed.

Then he pulls away, looking you up and down with burning worry. “Are you alright? Are you hurt? What are you doing here?”

You swear he could be bleeding out on the floor and still he’d be apologizing for staining your clothes. It’s heartwarming that despite the years and evident change in his appearance, Kolya is still Kolya.

A wide smile enters your face. “Looking for a frisky sailor to take me on a voyage filled with indecency, obviously.”

“Well, here he is.” Nikolai points to himself and winks at you. “And he’d really like to know why you’re in Novyi Zem with the Sun Summoner and whats-his-face and not in the Grand Palace in Os Alta.”

You let out a heavy sigh and shake your head gently. “I grew tired, Kolya.” His eyebrows slant upon hearing the exhaustion in your voice. Despite the sheer happiness he feels when you say his name, the concern gnawing at his heart seems to be more powerful. “Years have gone by without you giving me even the tiniest sign that you’re alive and well. And your brother, Saint’s have mercy on him because I won’t, has been adamant about marrying me ever since you left. I told him I will accept his proposal the day he lays your dead body before me.” You make pause, noticing a strange shadow hanging over Nikolai’s face. But he’s not saying anything for a moment, so you finish what you wanted to say: “I had to get away from it all. There’s only so much uncertainty and intruding fingers a lady can take.”

“By the Saints,” he breathes out, “did Vasily lay a hand on you?”

You feel his grip around you tighten but it’s not painful, rather securing. “If you’re asking whether he hit me or forced himself on me, then no, he did not. He did, however, make it abundantly clear what he wants from me. On multiple occasions.”

Nikolai’s face twists in a scowl. The glint that lit up his eyes when he saw you is now gone, exchanged for something dark and unstable. “I’m so sorry, if I knew-”

“I know, love,” you interrupt him. He doesn’t need to announce the ends he’d go to in order to ensure you’re safe and comfortable. Nikolai has never said or done so but you’re fairly convinced he wouldn’t shy away from fistfighting Vasily if he said something less-than-savoury to you. “But neither of us could have known.”

“I promised you’d be safe in Os Alta.”

“And I promised to stay put.” You can’t keep laughter in any longer. You’re not quite sure whether your chuckle is born out of happiness or disbelief. “Now look at us.”

Suddenly, he knits his eyebrows close. At first, you think he’s confused but then the slight rise of his cheeks suggests something closer to contempt or disgust. "Would you actually marry Vasily if he gave you my dead body?"

You can only give him an indifferent shrug. "Maybe?” you ponder aloud. “If you were dead, I would lose all care about what happens to me or with me. In a way, I’d be dead too."

Nikolai takes one of your hands and kisses its fingers. Your breath hitches in your throat when you feel his warm lips against your skin. “I could never rest in peace knowing how he’s treating you.”

“Having you haunt me would be incomparably better than you just being gone. Everything is better than silence.”

His shoulders slouch. Nikolai looks away from you for a moment, admiring the floor in his cuddy but even this can’t hide his guilt and shame. “I couldn’t have just popped in for a visit. Not anywhere in Ravka.”

"You couldn't even have written me a letter?"

"Someone at the palace would recognize my handwriting. I couldn't risk it."

"Then you could have dictated the letter to one of your crew."

That self-assured, flirty smirk appears again on his face. "And scandalize my crewmen with the things I want to tell you?”

As much as you’ve dearly missed his insufferable humour, at the moment it’s making your skin crawl. “This is a serious conversation, Nikolai,” you state firmly.

“I am serious, солиышко.” The pet name rolls off his tongue with both weight and lightness as though it belongs exclusively to you and no one else can ever claim it as their own. He kisses your hand again but keeps it against his lips for a while longer. Then, he places your fingers on his chest and you can feel the soft thrumming of his heart. “Do you think I never thought about writing to you? That I didn’t stay up at night thinking about what I will tell you when we meet again? Countless letters I have begun only to tear them apart and throw them into the sea or burn them. If some people found out we know each other, you’d be in much greater danger than Darkling following your steps. I’d rather deal with the heartbreak of staying away from you than know I put you in danger because I can’t live without you.”

It brings you a grim sense of comfort that he’s been equally torn as you were over the lack of contact. You never thought about it before but Nikolai must have been worried sick, not knowing whether you’re alright and happy. Has he imagined your plight and misery as often as you did his?

“What did you write in those letters?” you ask in a shaky voice.

“I wrote about how much I miss you, how it physically hurts to consider that you might think I have abandoned you. When I was hungry, cold, tired or sick, only the memories of you made me push on. On nights when I couldn’t sleep, I’d stare at the sky above me and wonder whether you’re looking at the same stars. I wrote that wherever I go, I see your face. You are in every sunrise and sunset, every flower I see and every fire that warms me.” Nikolai lets go of your fingers, placing both of his hands on either side of your face. The softness in his eyes makes you swoon. “I only wrote the truth,” he says slowly, making sure you understand the weight of his words.

Swallowing back tears, you lean into his warm touch. “My beloved, my heart yearns for you?” you jest in a dramatic voice.

A playful smile creeps back unto his lips. “If only my heart.”

“Gross.”

“You wanted a frisky sailor.”

"You’re a pirate, not a sailor.”

"I’m a privateer,” he drones out the word as though it makes a world of a difference.

"Pirate sounds sexier."

Nikolai gives you a fake frown. “Oh, I definitely am a pirate."

Without thinking twice, he’s kissing you. The sensation is just as comforting as you remember. His soft lips are doting on you, growing needier with each peck as though this is some feverish attempt at making up the lost time.

He pulls away to catch his breath and although you’re panting yourself, you unknowingly chase after him, unwilling to dismiss this carnal desire just yet. Nikolai seems to notice your eagerness - he flashes you a cocky grin and shortly pecks your lips again.

“You crossed Ravka, the Fold and the sea just to find me?” he whispers. His eyes are stuck to your wet, swollen mouth.

“And I’d do it a hundred more times if I had to.”

You exchange a few more hungry kisses, pecking and nipping at each other’s lips, before Nikolai continues the conversation:

“I want to say that I’m flattered but I’d rather not encourage you to do something this stupid and dangerous ever again.”

“Hate to break it to you but you took all the stupid with you.”

He rests his forehead against yours; hot, laboured breaths brush against your flushed cheeks. “I’d like to clarify that I’m not stupid, I just can’t seem to think about anything other than you.”

Nikolai wraps his arms around your waist. In a swift motion, he turns you around and pushes you against the edge of his desk. His strength surprises you when Nikolai effortlessly lifts you and places you atop the table, pushing off maps and navigation essentials. Firm, warm hands are restlessly wandering across your body, unsure where to lay or what to grab.

You gasp quietly when his fingers sneak underneath your shirt. “Is this the indecent part of the voyage, my frisky sailor?”

“By the Saints, I hope so,” he whispers against your lips. Then, he furrows his eyebrows questioningly. “Is that offensive to say around a living Saint?”

“I don’t think Alina heard you.”

His nimble fingers are quickly undoing the buttons on your clothes. “Well, she will hear you in a moment.”

“Gross,” you say with laughter in your voice but the word gets muffled as Nikolai gets back to kissing you again.

Even if the crew did hear you that day, no one dared say a word.

зайка [zay-ka] - bunny (feminine; term of endearment)

солиышко [sol-nee-shko] - little sun (unisex; term of endearment)

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov imagine #nikolai lantsov fanfiction #nikolai imagines #nikolai x reader #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov x you #shadow and bone fanfic #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone fanfiction #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone #shadow and bone x you #sturmhond #grishaverse

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blue-jisungs · 1 year ago

Text

complete opposite

author's note. here it goes,, finally finished it after having it rot in my drafts for a month grrrrr … also, this one is for the biggest joshu stans i know, @fairyhaos and @slytherinshua <3

summary. you get scared of how joshua will react to bad news, joshua gets scared of how you’re acting… turns out is all a complete opposite of the other one was thinking

genre. fluff but also kinda angst? hurt to comfort me thinks

word count. 2269 hehe

warnings. swearing, mention of throwing up, feeling sick, having intimate relations with joshua but nothing explicit!! reader is overthinking a lot :(

heart thumping in your chest, you stared at your friend in disbelief. rina squeezed your hand and tucked a hair that has fallen on your face.

“i’ll drive you home, okay?” she hummed and stood up, placing a peck on your forehead “stay here”

you nodded weakily, your stomach going crazy. you watched her silhouette disappear and massaged your temples.

when you woke up today, joshua was already gone. he texted you good morning and informed that he’ll probably come home late at night. but then you felt unwell. ignoring it, you decided to eat breakfast and go to work.

which was a mistake. you barely arrived and already run to the toilet, returning your stomach’s contents. rina was already here so she helped you, handing you some water and meds. just when you thought you’re fine, mid-convo with a customer you turned pale again and your stomach was making turns and somersaults.

you bet it was the fish you ate yesterday. you were out with joshu to some kind of a fancy restaurant. lately you’ve been craving fish so you decided, why not. well apparently it wasn’t a great idea.

“okay, let’s go. just please try not to vomit all over my car” rina giggled and helped you stand up. you felt weak, beads of sweat forming on your forehead. rina bit her lip and led you to her car. “i need to pick up one thing on the way but maybe try taking a nap? should i call your boyfriend?”

“no, no. he’s really busy today” you sighed, secretly wishing he’d be there for you.

in no time you were home, rina walking you to the door. suddenly she handed you a few boxes of… pregnancy tests.

“what…” you laughed, looking at her shocked.

“you… look, i need to go back to work but my sister was pregnant a while ago. and her symptoms were similar. and your period is running late, isn’t it? you still haven’t eaten the chocolate from the cabinet at work” rina said softly, looking at your widened eyes “just… make sure. and call me, okay? if you feel worse or better, doesn’t matter. i’ll pick up whenever i can”

“i… you’re being a bit dramatic with the tests. but thank you. i owe you” you smiled. she nodded and gave you a quick hug before rushing back to work.

you entered your and joshua’s apartment, heart wild in your chest. sure, your period was late. but… no, that’s not right.

feeling a unpleasant sensation bubbling up in your throat once again, head spinning, you ran to the bathroom. throwing the boxes on the counter you accidentally knocked some things over. you knelt down and for another time this day, threw up.

taking deep breaths you weakly grabbed the pink box. scanning the stupid imagine of a stupid woman with a stupid baby bump you decided to try. what’s the worse thing that could happen anyways. you’re not pregnant, it’s just the fish. you and joshua always use protection and you’re always safe. right?

you paced around the bathroom, nervously putting away stuff in different places while waiting for the outcome. it’s not it. can’t be. logically – can’t be. physically–

you peeked at the stick.

two lines.

“fuck”

your heart thumped in your chest, ready to rip out from your rib cage and go for a walk. or jog.

“no, it’s not right…”

you spent half of the day testing the other pregnancy tests. because what if it’s just a malfunction? or if one brand has two lines for positive and the other for negative? you had to be sure.

and sure you were when all of them turned out to be positive.

your bathroom looked like war zone, everything turned upside down all over the place.

walking into the kitchen on wobbly legs, your head felt like it was about to explode.

you’re pregnant.

joshua is going to kill you. well, no. not really. but it will kill him.

you never talked about it. sure, he said he wanted to marry you one day but… but he’s an idol. he’s busy. maybe he doesn’t even want kids?

when some rumours floated around about your relationship… it killed him. some carats went crazy, not in a positive way. joshua was really going through it and now… relationship is not as a big of a problem as pregnancy. oh my god, carats are going to kill you. and the baby.

you don’t want to ruin his career. he worked so hard and loved what he did and now… now it’s about to fall apart like a house of cards triggered by a slight gust of wind.

tears dwelled in your eyes, throat tightening. joshua will hate you, that’s for sure. yes, he loved you but a kid… those are different circumstances, choices… way of living.

he will hate you and dump you. that’s for sure.

unless… unless you do it first.

no.

be rational.

he won’t, right?

the room felt like it was about to swallow you. all the pictures with joshua, your joshu. his ebony irises that you loved oh so much stared at you from the pictures. as if judging you.

you had to get out from here.

rushing to the bathroom, you tore all the boxes with the tests and flushed them down the toilet. then you threw all the tests into a plastic bag and then hid them under the sink. joshua never looks there. like that one time when you spent all day looking for something you lost and–

stop.

you took the keys and stormed out of your apartment, the need of fresh air almost suffocating you. you’ll be back before he gets home.

joshua pushed the door open, limbs feeling as if ready to fall apart any second. he just dreamed about changing his pyjamas and falling asleep in your arms.

it was late so he figured he won’t announce he’s here, like he always does. leaving his bag by the entrance, joshua stretched lazily.

he entered the bedroom and halted. the bed was empty.

“that’s weird…” he mumbled. maybe you’re in the bathroom? joshua grabbed his pyjama and decided to go check the bathroom.

if he was surprised that you weren’t in the bedroom, the bathroom left him speechless.

not only you weren’t there, like he thought you’d be. the room looked like a tornado passed through it.

everything was scattered around, as if knocked over; all over the place.

“y/n?” joshua called out, dropping the pyjamas. rushing to get his back to grab his phone, his throat went dry. it’s almost midnight and you’re not home. if you were going out with your girl friends, he’d know. he wouldn’t forget. so why you’re not home?

dialling your number, he noticed there’s no texts from you either. which was concerning too… you’d text him if you were going out somewhere. especially at this hour. and considering how cold it was…

the silence in the house was frightening. joshua didn’t like this one bit. suddenly he heard buzzing and his heart came up to his throat. your phone is home.

you left without taking your phone…?

joshua ran his hand through his hair. he has to stay calm.

he gulped and called your best friend from work. it was dumb, especially at this hour. but rina picked up immediately, even though voice w bit raspy and tired.

“hi joshua. is everything alright with y/n? i’ve been worried sick for the whole day–“ her voice was almost desperate for an answer.

“there was something wrong? i just came home and she’s not here… and, and she didn’t take her phone– i don’t know what’s happening” joshua whispered, feeling how his stomach drops.

“fuck”

“okay… okay… let’s stay calm. she… maybe she went to get some groceries?” rina breathed out “fuck, i shouldn’t leave her alone. is my fault… i…”

“hey, no, don’t say that. what even happened?” joshua asked and switched the light on. he’ll wait until you’re back. rina hesitated – if it was what she thinks it is, she doesn’t want to be the one passing the news.

“she felt unwell at work… and i drove her home but i had to go back… i should’ve stayed with her” rina mumbled.

suddenly there was a soft click of the door opening. joshua jolted, eyes turning into that direction.

you appeared in the doorway, your face catching his gaze. you were crying.

“rina, she’s here. don’t need to worry” he spoke softly. joshua noticed how scared you look. scared, tired and… guilty

“oh thank god. warn her that i’ll whoop her ass in work tomorrow” your grind let out a nervous laugh but she certainly sounded relieved “good night”

“good night” joshua whispered and hang up.

the silence was speaking volumes.

you slowly took off your shoes and sighed. opening your mouth to say something and then closing them again.

“if you wanted to go out, you should’ve taken a jacket” he said softly; there was no poisoned sarcasm in his voice, only genuine worry. you nodded weakly and played with your fingers.

“i…” your voice broke, eyes avoiding his.

joshua stood up and started boiling some water to mar you tea. you sat down on the couch, putting your bag close to you; hands gripping your knees.

for a moment it was peaceful, as if the world wasn’t about to fall apart in mere moments. just you, joshua and the sounds of boiling water.

in no time he returned, placing the cup on the table. then he looked at you, anxiety filling his heart.

“did something happen?” joshua asked. for the first time in ages he was unsure what to do. should he hold your hand? you didn’t look like you wanted to but on the other hand…

you shook your head gently, tears gathering at the edge of your waterline. your throat went dry and you felt like you weren’t able to physically speak out.

“i saw the bathroom, it looks like a mess. you scared me” he let out a soft chuckle, scanning your reaction.

nothing.

your fingers traced shapes absentmindedly on your knee, eyes distant.

“angel?” he asked, concern growing in his voice. only after you took a deep breather and let it out as a shaky sigh, you started. now or never.

“you’ll hate me” you mumbled and were met with a scoff. scared, you looked up at him. joshua was smiling softly, unaware of what he was about to learn.

“y/nnie, i’d never hate you” the smile wrinkles that you loved so much appeared around his eyes. your lip quivered and you looked away

“you will. i’m so… i’m sorry joshua” your voice cracked “i ruined your career”

“what are you talking about, silly?” joshua laughed nervously.

you just shook your head, tears beginning to roll down your cheeks. in a blink of an eye you started harshly sobbing, breathing getting hard to breathe.

joshua rushed and hugged you tightly, petting your hair. even though he hated that such thought crossed his mind, he couldn’t help but wonder what did you mean: did you cheat–

“i’m so fucking sorry” you whined, pulling away from him. then you reached to your bag and turned it upside down, causing its content to fall on the couch.

“what do you…” joshua’s voice died in his throat, your crying only getting more intense when you saw his reaction.

he reached to grab one of the white and pink sticks. two red lines.

then he looked at another one. two red lines.

the other one he grabbed has a blue plus drawn.

rummaging through all of them, mouth agape, he felt as if knocked the air out of his lungs.

no, not because you were pregnant (well, this too). because of your reaction. you thought he’ll hate you? that you ruined his career? that…

“oh y/n” his voice broke, grabbing your face in his hands. your quivering lip and wet eyelashes made his heart clench but it was hard for him to resist a smile “how could i… i’m…”

“i’m sorry! we never really talked about this before and… and i know that we’re not that young but your career is blooming and… and–“ you mumbled, voice becoming whiny and hard to control. why is he smiling, by the way…?

“y/n, please take a breath, okay?” he asked gently, caressing your wet cheeks “i would never have thought that… you’re going to panic thinking about my reaction”

you took a deep breath and blinked slowly. why; why in hell he’s so calm?! isn’t he going to–

“i’m going to be a father” he breathed out, his own eyes tearing up too “and you’ll be the mother, y/n. that’s… that’s something i could never dream of but i also always wanted…”

“w-what?” you asked and he shook his head, grinning with pearly tears blinking at the edge of his waterline.

“i love you so so much. i’m… speechless. and above all, so… so happy” he sniffled.

his reaction was… complete opposite of what you thought it would be. you felt as if a huge stone just dropped from your heart, relief washing over you. suddenly you put your hands on top of his and pulled him into a kiss.

lips connected and tears falling down your cheeks, joshua felt like all of this was unreal. pulling away, he rested his forehead against yours.

“i’ll be a dad” a faint whisper left his mouth as you wiped his cheek with a loving smile.

masterlist <3

taglist. @mirxzii ,, @primoppang ,, @l3visbby ,, @nicholasluvbot ,, @planetkiimchi ,, @weird-bookworm ,, @slytherinshua ,, @jiwuu ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @dazzlingligth

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atzloverr · 11 days ago

Text

Selfish Desire - chapter 10

previous chapter - next chapter

series masterlist

warning! includes yandere themes, depictions of violence, kidnapping, bondage, mentions of murder, funeral in a church,

The first snow came early this year.

It usually showed itself in early December, but this year seemed to be different, white snow already coating the roofs in the month of November.

It felt so typical that it had to be today. The day of your funeral.

Wooyoung’s eyes hadn’t left the coffin, though his tears blurred its edges, turning it into a wavering silhouette of grief. Yeosang’s hand had been in his since they left home, and right now, Wooyoung was pretty sure that was the only thing keeping them both composed enough to not fall to the floor in agony.

When Wooyoung’s eyes met your parents’, he had a hard time controlling the rage boiling inside of him. They hadn’t cried nearly enough, considering their daughter had died.

“My condolences,” your mother said. Wooyoung knew that he was the one who was supposed to say that, but wasn’t surprised to hear the words leave your mother’s mouth.

He and Yeosang just nodded before passing the two, their grip on each other’s hands tightening.

Right when the two were about to exit the church, Wooyoung spotted a familiar face.

“Do you remember that dude she had a group project with?” Wooyoung asked lowly into Yeosang’s ear.

“Yeah? What, is he here?”

“Looks like it… See that dude there? With the long hair? Yeah, that’s him,” Wooyoung muttered when a thought suddenly popped into his mind.

Before Yeosang could hold him back, Wooyoung’s hand ripped from his as he marched over to Seonghwa.

“Seonghwa, right?” Wooyoung said, looking the man straight in the eyes. Seonghwa’s eyes met Wooyoung’s for a split second before averting anxiously. He replied with a small nod.

He wanted to protest loudly when your friend sat next to him on the bench, a little too close for his liking. There were only three people in this world worthy to touch him, at least, that’s what Hongjoong said.

“Did you ever have a crush on Y/n?” Wooyoung asked, his voice hoarse and weak, having to hold back tears at the mention of your name.

Seonghwa blinked as he realized that he needed to lay low.

Wooyoung frowned as the man shook his head to answer his previous question.

“Why don’t I see you in class anymore?”

Seonghwa felt like leaving the scene right away. He never expected your best friend to be so full of questions, and annoying, private questions at that.

Seonghwa fished out a pen and paper from his pocket, and Wooyoung’s piercing eyes watched as he struggled to write the three words on the note. His hands were trembling, causing him to almost drop the pen.

I dropped out.

Wooyoung gave him a confused glance. “Really? Why?”

Seonghwa cleared his throat, Wooyoung’s suspicious tone making him even more nervous, but wrote another few words on the small paper.

Realized it wasn’t my thing.

Wooyoung looked over to Yeosang, who stood a few meters away, anxiously fidgeting with his sleeves. The two friends practically needed each other’s company right now, so it was a bold move for Wooyoung to leave him.

Wooyoung eyed the quiet man sitting next to him. Was this really the guy who you had invited into your home? Who you had, using your words, ‘gotten used to hanging out with’?

“Did you speak to Y/n the day she disappeared?” Wooyoung was almost rushing now, seeming desperate to get an answer out of Seonghwa.

Seonghwa shook his head, and to his surprise, Wooyoung felt like he was telling the truth. At one point, Wooyoung realized that this ‘conversation’ wouldn’t get him anywhere.

“Okay, have a nice day then.”

When Wooyoung came back to Yeosang’s side, Yeosang could tell something was up.

“I just have one more thing that I need to do before we leave,” Wooyoung said in merely a whisper, and his determined gaze made Yeosang worry.

“Don’t stop me.”

Yeosang couldn’t have, even if he wanted to, because when Wooyoung had started darting towards the altar, it was too late for anyone to catch up.

Yeosang ran after him, his confusion only growing for every second that passed.

Wooyoung had seen that the coffin wasn’t locked. His dad was a funeral director, and had taught him enough to identify whether or not one could open a coffin or not.

Gasps were heard as Wooyoung got closer and closer to the coffin, and he could see the priest standing up to stop him in the corner of his eye, but he was too late.

When he arrived at the altar, all eyes were on him. He had seen the way Seonghwa tried to get out of his seat in time, and the way your parents’ jaws dropped in disbelief as he did what he had thought about doing ever since he entered the church.

He didn’t hesitate before throwing the lid of the coffin open.

Multiple gasps were heard all around the church, but Wooyoung didn’t even utter a sound. He just stood there with Yeosang next to him, staring down into the empty coffin.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

When Yunho slowly awoke from his slumber, it was to the sound of sheets rustling beside him, and sounds of heavy breathing.

When opening his eyes, he could quickly identify what was going on. You lay next to him on the bed, squirming and whimpering quietly in your sleep. Your eyebrows were furrowed, in such a troubled manner, that it almost hurt him to watch.

His arms met your shoulders as carefully as possible, not wanting to hurt your fragile body as he tried shaking you awake. He could see the way your skin glistened with the thin layer of cold sweat coating it.

“Y/n! Wake up!” he whisper-yelled. When your eyes finally opened, you flew up into a sitting position, as a loud gasp escaped your lips.

“Shh, it’s just me,” Yunho reassured when he saw the way your eyes searched the room in panic. “It was just a dream…”

Slowly, your breathing started going back to normal, Yunho’s calming voice helping you unwind.

“Oh my god…” you breathed out when you had finally calmed down. You propped yourself down on the bed again, this time with Yunho’s arms still held protectively around you. His embrace was warm, and it felt so natural to have his arms around you.

“What did you dream about?” Yunho asked carefully. You sighed and answered a bit too quickly. “Don’t remember.”

Yunho could probably tell that you were lying, but luckily for you, didn’t ask any more questions. You didn’t want to trouble him with the distinct memories of the days you had spent with Hongjoong in the room across the hall.

Despite all of Hongjoong’s cruelty towards you that time, you could at times reflect on the fact that he never indicated any sort of sexual act.

It was so contradicting, you thought. He could treat you like a worthless animal, just to mindfully dress your wounds a minute later, making sure not to touch any of your private areas inappropriately without your consent.

You were thankful, sure, but you really wondered what stopped him. Since he could drug and kidnap you without your consent, what stopped him from going further? You wanted to barf when you tried to speculate about the reason. It was probably some weird fetishization of purity, some sort of corruption kink, you thought to yourself.

When you felt yourself finally warming back up, thanks to Yunho’s body pressed up against yours from behind, you could properly relax again.

“It’s morning already, I’m not sure we’ll get that much more sleep…” Yunho said. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“How can you know that it’s morning?”

Yunho pointed at the bedside table next to you, and you almost gasped when you saw the little watch resting there.

“Is it yours?”

“Yeah… Hongjoong took it from me, but he—“ Yunho paused, swallowing. “—He gave it back due to, uh… Good behavior…”

He sounded so ashamed to say it, but you honestly envied him at this point. He knew what to do in order to get the best treatment. Meanwhile, you were still on page one.

“Look, Y/n!” Yunho said, pointing to the window. “It’s snowing outside.”

Your eyes widened subconsciously, and even though you lay so comfortably in Yunho’s arms, you forced yourself to stand up.

When you looked out the window, you tried to ignore the advanced locks surrounding it, just like you tried to ignore the ache in your legs as you stood up, and the gnawing sensation of hunger constantly trying to steal your attention.

You tried to think back to that day last year. You tried to imagine that you were still there. If you thought hard enough, you felt like you could feel the sting of cold snow against your hands, see the puffs of air exiting your mouth when you spoke.

“Wooyoung, you better not!” you warned, trying to stay serious, but you couldn’t hold back the smile creeping up on your lips.

You watched as he prepared a snow ball, and right before you could warn him again, it was thrown against you, landing right in your face.

You heard Wooyoung’s high pitched laughter as you tried to get all the snow out of your hair that you had worked so hard to fix.

“Oh you little—“ your voice was cut off by another snowball landing on your stomach. You decided that this was enough, and when Wooyoung was busy laughing, you prepared an even bigger snowball, and launched it right at his head.

When you saw his shocked expression, you couldn’t help but laugh even harder than he had.

Soon, the two of you had a full on snowball fight, and even though your makeup was completely ruined at one point, you couldn’t have cared less. The only thing that mattered was that moment.

You could still remember how much you laughed that day, and how you promised Wooyoung that you would get him back one day, since he got the last blow.

Your small smile fell as you kept looking out the window. The endless trees coated in snow, and the foreign feeling of this many bandages on your body at once, it all reminded you of where you really were.

The constant sting in your wrists wasn’t because of the cold snow seeping through your clothes, your feet weren’t this cold because your shoes were not warm enough for the weather, they were this cold because of the cold, unfamiliar wooden floor you stood on with your thin socks.

You turned around to see Yunho standing right behind you. And you couldn’t resist the urge to wrap your arms around him. Sighing into his shoulder, you tried to ignore the gnawing pain of the memories of your best friend.

You suddenly heard the sound of the front door closing, probably meaning someone just left, or just came back.

You gave Yunho a confused look, and he just shook his head in response, as if saying ’I don’t know either’.

You heard the sound of two voices from downstairs, meaning one of them had just gotten home. Hurried steps and hushed voices gave you the clue that something was wrong.

The two quick sets of steps moved up the stairs, making your eyes find Yunho’s in panic. He sat you down on the bed, as he started walking as far away from you as possible, trying to look casual as he eyed through the bookshelf.

The door was opened, and in came your two captors, this time with Seonghwa leading. A rare sight indeed.

Seonghwa walked up to the bed with a frown on his face, his eyes wet, but not yet having shed a tear. ”What’s going on?” Yunho nervously asked, trying not to sound suspicious. The two men stayed quiet.

You didn’t fully realize what was happening until ropes were tied around your wrists, making the already existing bruises and scars burn.

Your mind wanted to flinch. Your mind wanted you to squirm and fight back, but your body did the complete opposite. You sat there, staring out the window, letting Seonghwa tie your arms behind your back.

You heard Yunho’s voice, his nervous tone as he asked why they were doing this. You didn’t even know what so feel, what to say.

Seonghwa started leading you out of the room, still not having said a single word to you. Hongjoong seemed to follow suit, not answering any of Yunho’s pleas.

You only started to let out sounds of protest when the basement door was kicked open by Seonghwa, before he harshly dragged you down the stairs.

It was as if Seonghwa had now added yet another persona to his collection, contradicting his other ones.

”Please Seonghwa,” you let out when he sat you down in a wooden chair, tying you to it. You watched as Yunho was pulled down the stairs.

Seonghwa’s eyes were distant as he tied you up. He looked distracted, but deeply focused on this unknown distraction.

”Seonghwa,” you called out again, your voice hoarse, sad. You were in constant conflict with yourself. You wanted him to feel bad. You wanted him to cry, to show any sign of emotion. Even though it felt wrong to do this to him, you still wanted him to know what he was doing to you.

A tear seeped out of your eye. ”It hurts. You’re hurting me,” you finally said.

Seonghwa paused in his movements, a shuddery breath leaving his mouth. When you saw his bottom lip tremble, and tears starting to pour out of his menacingly beautiful eyes, you didn’t know how to feel. You succeeded your mission, so why didn’t you want to cheer in victory?

It seemed Seonghwa wasn’t as hard to manipulate as Hongjoong. Seonghwa sat down on his knees, resting his head in your lap. When you heard the small sobs escape him, an emotion that you definitely shouldn’t have felt appeared.

Guilt.

No, you shouldn’t feel guilty for him. He’s the one who kidnapped you. He’s the monster, not you.

So why was this guilt making your heart ache in sorrow? Why did you feel as if this wasn’t really his fault? As if he didn’t really mean any of this?

You swallowed when Seonghwa’s head raised, and when his glossy eyes met yours, you almost uttered the two words you wanted to kill yourself for even thinking of saying.

”I’m so—” ”Why are you doing this?”

You looked over to Yunho. He was practically growling at this point, his eyes fixated on Hongjoong’s form as he walked over to get Seonghwa.

”We’re having some guests for tonight,” Hongjoong smiled, dragging Seonghwa up to make him hug him instead. You felt disgusting when you almost missed his touch. ”And I need you to watch over our little troublemaker here, okay?” Hongjoong giggled at Yunho.

You looked down. It hurt to know that Yunho was in this position because of you. You stopped yourself from continuing that thought.

The realization started to hit you before you felt ready to handle it. Their tactics were starting to work on you. The guilt you felt towards Seonghwa, towards Yunho, it wasn’t a coincidence.

”Behave now.” Hongjoong waved before walking out, still holding Seonghwa’s trembling figure in his arms. And when the door closed, you let your mouth move on its own.

”This is all my fault.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

”Hongjoong, they know,” Seonghwa whispered, finally having regained the composure to talk without stuttering. He was scared.

Scared that you would be taken from them, but even more scared of what might happen to Hongjoong if they were found out. He didn’t care much for himself. He could handle prison, he could handle all of that. But Hongjoong, his dear Hongjoong. Seonghwa couldn’t stand the thought of him getting any sort of mistreatment, any sort of punishment.

Seonghwa could sometimes sit at night and think back to when he had just met Hongjoong. Those late nights they spent talking, those feelings that appeared inside of him when he realized that he wasn’t alone.

Before meeting Hongjoong, he was sure he was unlovable. The mental scars from the past, the self doubt, the innermost desires that he feared would scare any sane person away - he was sure it was impossible to ever experience love again. Until he finally met Hongjoong.

Ever since their lips met for the first time, or perhaps ever since Hongjoong told Seonghwa about his deepest thoughts and desires - or when Seonghwa told him about his - Seonghwa had sworn not to let anything bad happen to him. He couldn’t live with himself if it did.

So when he saw Wooyoung open the empty coffin, and when he saw the realization in his eyes, he could feel the fear creep up on him. When he himself realized that Wooyoung was the one Hongjoong told him about - the one who was on their tails - he knew that he had to do something.

”They know she’s alive, they’re the ones that man told you about—”, ”I know, Seonghwa, I know.”

Seonghwa’s face dropped. ”You know?” Hongjoong hummed, looking down, as if in shame. ”Why didn’t you tell me?”

”Do you have any idea of what he means to her?” Hongjoong asked. Seonghwa was about to speak when Hongjoong beat him to it.

”I mentioned him once during her punishment, just to scare her a little bit—” Hongjoong didn’t smile, like he usually would have. ”—And whenever I mentioned his name, she would start sobbing, get on her knees and beg me not to do anything to him. She told me: ’You can kill me, keep me here for the rest of my life, but whatever you do, keep him out of it.’”

Seonghwa’s eyes stared into nothingness as he took in what Hongjoong was saying. ”He’s the only person she really loves,” Hongjoong said.

”The reason I didn’t tell you that I knew it was him—” Hongjoong took a deep breath. ”—Is because you won’t like what I have planned for him.”

Seonghwa’s eyes widened, and his head started to shake almost instinctively. Hongjoong knew that Seonghwa didn’t want to have to hurt anyone else in order to keep the two of you here. But of course, he could never say no to Hongjoong.

”Do you know who’s coming over tonight?” Hongjoong asked, seeing Seonghwa immediately shake his head. ”I’ve hired him to—” Hongjoong made a pause, his smile returning to his lips. ”—take care of Wooyoung for me.”

my masterlist

thank you all for the support you’ve given me for this story!❤️ All your comments and likes/reblogs mean so much more than you could think!

I’m sorry for posting this in december, even though its ”set” in november, I hope it’s fine. This took longer than I thought to finish, and it was originally much longer but I cut it down lolll. Next chapter will be longer and more plot-heavy i think!

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heavenlyraindrops · 9 months ago

Text

♱ Father Forgive Me (For I have Sinned) ~Chapter Thirteen ♱

Lucifer Morningstar x Angel!Reader Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Chapter Thirteen Warnings: profanity Click on the first tag to see all the other chapters

♱Where the purest soul in Heaven falls for the Devil♱

[Chapter Thirteen]

♱♱♱

One month had passed. Your decision was approaching, faster than you had thought it would. What would you say?

You still didn’t know.

“I’ll be back from the extermination,” Adam said smugly, Lute crossing her arms behind him. He dropped his voice to a whisper. “Decided yet?”

“Yes,” you lied through your teeth.

“Not coming this year?” Lute smirked, unaware of your and Adam’s whispered conversation going on in front of her. Adam’s eyes slid to you, then he rolled them, making you scowl.

“No,” you said flatly. Adam’s eyes hardened.

“We’re gonna go after Lucifer’s brat’s shitty hotel first,” he sneered. “Shame you can’t be there to watch it.”

“Shame,” you replied, heart pounding against your ribcage.

You watched them disappear down the portal to Hell, along with another rush of the exterminators, eager for bloodshed, before the portal closed up completely.

You rubbed your eyes.

“Keep Charlie safe,” you muttered, as if it was a prayer, except one in a god you were slowly losing faith in.

♱♱♱

Adam was dead.

It had been almost a week since they had left for the extermination. Everyone was in such a flurry, a mess, that no one bothered to pay any attention to you or answer your questions. Sure, you were the great [name], but you were just another angel when it came to status.

Sera was stressed. Emily was in shock. You were in shock. And the last time you had seen Lute was the last time you had seen Adam.

What seemed to scare everyone to their core, however, wasn’t just Adam’s death: it was the fact that angels could die. You remembered Avery, and her missing friend. No doubt the girl was dead. You fiddled with your bracelet, before ripping it off and tossing it onto the table.

You hadn’t heard from Lucifer, either.

The front door creaked open, spilling pale light into your dim living room. You shot up as Lute entered.

“Lute, God, you’re okay,” you breathed, your concern for her shocking the both of you. Your eyes fell to her shoulder, and your heart leapt into your throat. “Where’s your arm?”

She stared at you, and you could have swore her eyes were glowing with barely restrained fury. You took her by the shoulder and steered her into the room, sitting her down where you were before.

“Do you need anything?”

She stared at you, and you wondered if she was ever going to speak. And then, finally, she did.

“Water.”

“On it,” you said, rushing to the kitchen for a glass.

You thrust it towards her, a few droplets spilling over the edge and rolling down the glass. She took it with her remaining hand. You sat next to her.

“Tell me everything.”

She downed the water, but her voice was still raspy. You couldn’t place the aura that surrounded her, but you could see the anger in her tensed muscles, her furrowed brow. “Adam’s dead,” she muttered, setting the glass down. “We were fucking winning, then Lucifer showed up and…” she rubbed her eyes, albeit aggressively. You noticed them glistening with unshed tears. “That stupid child, demon, thing- stabbed the shit out of him.” She looked away again, as if to hide her grief from you. You rubbed her back soothingly, and she tensed up, turning back to look up at you.

“If you ever need to talk,” you murmured. “I’m here.”

She sighed, doubling over. You decided to prompt her to speak with another question.

“What happened to your arm?” You pressed gently. Her lip curled.

“That bitch Vagina-“

“Huh?”

“Vaggie,” she seethed. She buried her head in her hand, shoulders shaking. You pressed your arm against hers, trying to offer her as much comfort as possible. She wouldn’t elaborate on the single name she had mentioned, and you wondered if Vaggie had cut her arm off.

“Adam told me something,” Lute said abruptly. “Before he died.” She looked at you, and you could feel your heart rate picking up, beating so hard it was painful. You stopped yourself from pulling away in case it would seem suspicous.

“What did he say?” You asked gently, doing your best to keep the tremor out of your voice. She shook her head soundlessly. “That’s fine. You can tell me when you’re ready.”

A few more minutes of sitting in comfortable silence before she had stood up, mumbling that she had to go. You showed her outside, before hugging her fiercely while still being mindful of her arm.

She’d left and you went back inside, staring out the window and watching her fly away into the sky. Your stomach churned.

You looked down at your clenched fists. He was dead. Lute’s affirmation had let it sink in for you properly now. You felt sick and relieved at the same time.

Because your secret died with him.

You stumbled to the bathroom. You were going to throw up- again, and you did, all into the toilet. You flushed it, slumping down onto the bathroom floor and breathing heavily. Adam was dead. You didn’t have to marry him. You didn’t have to choose. No one in the world knew anymore- except you, and Lucifer. You stood up with trembling legs, scraping yourself together and steadying yourself on the sink, staring at your reflection. Your face had gone pale.

He was dead. He was really dead.

He wouldn’t barge into your house without knocking like he used to, anymore. He wouldn’t scream your name down the street. He wouldn’t laugh the raucous way he did, that you had gotten so used to. You stifled any regretful feelings, pushing them down, not allowing yourself to cry. He was an asshole to you. It was for the best.

You went to the living room, and your eyes fell on Lute’s half-empty glass. You suddenly remembered the bracelet, the one you had tossed onto the table where the glass now sat, your link between you and Lucifer. Your eyes skimmed across the table to the spot you had last left it, and…

It wasn’t there.

♱♱♱

A/N: second chapter of the double release! Damn exams are killing me. Njoyy (Coco if ur reading this. I made the cliffhanger bcuz ur such a nosey bitch 😡😡)

hey guys I thought I posted this but turned out that I didn’t and it was just sitting in my drafts like an abandoned child

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the20thangel · 1 month ago

Text

The Emperor and His Lady Chapter 5

Summary: As Arabella slowly began her game, Noticeable changes started happening in the palace. While some are pleased with the changes, others are not. Making a foe to rid of the lady from her emperor's side.

Word Count: 2.9K

Tags: Smut, fluff at the end, Minors DNI, 18+ !!!

Taglist: @barcelonaloverf1life @justnobodynothingmore

Masterlist

The next few days were a blur, but at the same time, it was painstakingly long for Arabella. Instead of spending time with her lady and the general, she forced herself to stay in the company of the emperors. At first, Geta did not notice the change until he noticed many of his concubines were distancing themselves from him. Not understanding the change, he took more notice of his background and saw the company of his day, seeing Arabella in his crowd. Shocked, he had no idea she was there, but since then, he searched for her each day, and each day, she was there, wearing the same colors as he was. Seeing how she intentionally dressed to match him made him feel extra possessive, and he started requesting that she stay by his side by holding onto his arm.

Another change he noticed was that since Arabella’s presence, more and more of his people were willing to speak with him and no longer seemed to fear him. He had mixed feelings about this new change since the start of his reign; people had always feared him and his brother; it was how they created their empire, but at the same time, seeing people willing to talk to him made him feel a different emotion; it made him feel loved.

The main person who was not happy with these changes was Caracalla; it had always been just his brother and him against the world, against their enemies and allies. Now, all because of a stupid woman, he was losing his brother, leaving him alone. He didn’t like being alone. This, unfortunately, allowed Macrinus to slither his way to the younger’s ear, telling him his foe was the sweet lady hanging off his brother’s arm, letting him know how everything could go back if the lady were ruined for Geta.

“Wouldn’t you like to have fun with her and finally get your brother back? Take her, and your problems will all disappear, my emperor.” Macrinus whispered, growing in sadistic delight as Caracalla hungrily watched his next prey.

Sighing, Arabella rolled her shoulders. She sat behind the emperors as they talked with the game master about postponing the next set of games.

“Filling up the Colosseum with water is taking more time, my imperators, but I assure you that everything will be ready in a month, " the game master said, growing nervous with the emperors’ glare.

“Or you can work twice as hard and fill it faster, and the games can take place how we want them,” argued Geta, drinking his wine while he stared at the game master.

The Game master gulped as he felt small under Geta's glare while Caracalla cackled, allowing a concubine to feed him a grape. Seeing the impending temper, Arabella prayed for the gods to be merciful as she stepped in.

“My Imperator, the game master, just wants to ensure he provided the best games he can offer you, but it is not meant to be a slight. Rush the preparations and have a mediocre game, or move it back a month and ensure an entertaining game for you and the whole of Rome. Imagine the success; people will thank you and your brother for throwing a spectacular gladiator fight,” she soothes, placing an arm on Geta’s arm.

As Geta turned to his lady, the whole room froze, watching the internal battle between emperor and lady. After what seemed like minutes, Geta took a sip of his wine.

“If what Lady Arabella says is correct, I only expect the best games from this postponement. If it does not meet my expectations, you will make her a fool and shame my brother and me. Then, only the gods will hear your plea as your body is ripped limb by limb. Do I make myself clear, game master?” Threatened Geta, smirking as the game master stuttered in fear.

Arabella closed her eyes and exhaled. Considering what could have been the outcome, it was a positive sign. Leaving the resolution as it was, the emperors moved on to have enjoyment. Geta noticed Arabella’s slight scowl and discomfort as the Emperors started messing with their concubines.

“Arabella, you are free to go…” Geta dismissed her, turning away.

Arabella, feeling grateful, bowed before hurrying away from the room, not noticing hungry eyes following her out. Feeling like she was being stared at, she turned, making eye contact with Caracalla as the younger emperor licked his lips, not paying attention to the concubine on his lap. Shuddering, the lady left fast and walked to the gardens to relax her breathing. As she leaned on the fountain, she steadied her breathing when she heard a warm voice calling for her. Lifting her sight, she smiled, seeing Former Empress Lucilla walking towards her.

“My lady, how I missed you. I apologize for not spending time with you as of late, " Arabella said as she kissed Lucilla's cheeks.

“No worries, sweet one, I… I have been busy as well…” hesitated Lucilla, looking around her surroundings before pulling Arabella closer.

Being led around the gardens, Arabella waited as she watched her lady gather her strength.

“I want to tell you something, but please, it must stay between us… no one can know.” Lucilla warned the younger.

Nodding, Arabella promised as she leaned closer to the former empress. Smiling, Lucilla caressed her surrogate daughter’s cheek.

“Lucius is alive. My Luicus is with life!” she exclaimed quietly, tears glistening.

Arabella paused in shock, having conflicting feelings. For one, she felt happy for her lady that the son she grieved all these years was alive and not dead. On the other hand, she felt envious; Lucilla’s son was alive while hers was buried in the ground, and she never had the chance to hold him and love him. Third, if Luicus was alive, would he want his throne? What did it entail for her and for the two emperors? Lucilla’s smile dimmed at Arabella’s silence, causing the younger to force a slight grin.

“I am happy for you, my Lady. Truly, how joy you must feel to know he is alive and safe… is he not?” She paused, seeing Lucilla frown at her words.

Tearfully breathing, Lucilla responded, “He is one of the gladiators; he goes by Hano… He…He pushed me away. He does not want a relationship with me.”

Lucilla shed a tear, remembering how Lucius pushed her away. Arabella's eyes softened. Wiping the tear away, she tried comforting her lady.

“But he is alive, my lady. That is what matters, and he is so close to you. Pray for the gods for his protection; if he plays his cards right, he can earn freedom. Then there, no one can ever take him away from you.” she comforted her lady, grinning as Lucilla giggled with delight at the idea of Lucius being with her.

“Yes, I hope so. May the gods protect and guide my son,” Lucilla prayed as the two ladies walked more.

Soon, the ladies thanked each other, leaving Arabella to enter her chambers and see an upset Marcella waiting for her.

“Marcella, please not tonight…” pleaded Arabella, growing exhausted hearing the scolding each night she did not lay with her emperor.

“No! It will be tonight; while you were walking with the former empress, Caracalla and Geta overindulged in their wine, and again, I heard Macrinus urge Caracalla to make his move tonight, given how drunk Geta is; he will not be able to notice what happens until the dawn. You must go tonight; do not let that man win, Arabella….” Marcella nervously scolded her lady.

“I… I will go tonight…” Arabella confirmed, closing her eyes in defeat. She had no idea how to seduce Geta. She was drunk the last time she did and stupidly naive.

Marcella shook her head, helping her lady prepare and giving her spoken advice to seduce the emperor. Arabella flushed and bit her lip as she listened to the advice. Once they finished, Marcella led her lady to Geta’s chambers.

“Now remember what I told you, my lady,” soothed Marcella as she fixed Arabella before bowing and leaving her alone.

Sighing, Arabella searched for wine, wanting to calm her nerves. Seeing a cup, she walked towards it, looking at it in slight disgust. How many had drank from this cup? She thought to herself. Hearing commotion approaching her, she took a deep breath and drank the rest of the wine before walking back to the middle of the chambers.

As Geta drunkenly entered his chambers with two concubines, they all froze at the beautiful sight of Arabella waiting for her emperor. Her cheeks blushed as she licked her scarlet lips, her brown waves framing her angelic face. As Geta loosened his hold, both concubines shared a look and silently left the room, leaving the emperor and lady alone.

“Why are you here, Arabella?” slurred Geta as he staggered, and Arabella met him halfway.

Pressing herself to him, she explained, “I wish to spend the night with you. I have missed you, my imp—” She paused before finishing her sentence as Geta snorted.

“Missed me, huh? After years of being distant, you now miss me?” taunted Geta, watching as Arabella lowered her eyes for a second.

Channeling her bravery, she pushed herself closer, her lips lightly touching Geta’s. She whispered, “Yes, I have…so please, Geta…. My Geta, please let me in.”

Shuddering, Geta closed his eyes, her words affecting him again. Opening them and seeing his lady’s hooded eyes, with lust in her eyes, he closed the gape. Both allowed the walls around their hearts to fall as they embraced and deepened their kiss. After years of yearning for each other, they were finally breaking free. Arabella gasped, feeling her emperor's tongue enter her mouth. She tightened her hold of his arms as she pressed her body further to his. Groaning at the feeling, Geta grabbed her waist while pushing her closer to his bed.

Falling on his bed, the lady, heavily breathing, stared up at her emperor, her lips swollen, her night dress falling off her shoulder, exposing more of her skin. Grinning, Geta leaned down, capturing her lips, before he moved down her jaw, down to her neck, where he began his attack, sucking a spot with licks and bites, enjoying the delicious whimpers he brought out from her.

Arabella, falling more into her lust, wrapped her fingers through the ginger hair as she gasped, feeling Geta bite down on her neck. Yes, it was painful, but her pleasure was more remarkable. Moving to expose her neck more, she moaned, feeling him grind his clothed budge to her exposed and drenched cunt. Biting her lip, feeling devious, she, too, started to grind her hips up. She was matching the rhythm of her emperor. Grunting, Geta released his lady's neck, growing in satisfaction, seeing a red mark starting to form. Taking hold of her hip, He rubbed himself on her wet cunt, his grin growing, seeing her wither and pant from his humping.

Opening her eyes, Arabella reached up, cradling her Geta’s face, “Please…My Geta, make me yours again; I want to be yours again…” she pleaded, breaking her promise to her 15-year-old self.

Growling, Geta began to undress while commanding Arabella to do the same. She did as she was told, shaking in pleasure. Arabella shed her gown before crawling onto Geta’s lap and kissing him again. She moaned into his mouth as he pushed himself inside her. He was thicker and larger from the last time she had him. Releasing her lips, Geta kissed the top of her breast before he began thrusting into his lady. Arabella moaned louder, moving her hips to match the rhythm but losing it once Geta started changing his speed, pounding into her.

Wanting to have more control and speed, Geta pushed her to lay on her back; raising her hip, he pushed harshly, pulling out at a fast and bruising pace. Arabella screamed in delight at the overwhelming pace, her breasts bouncing with each thrust from her emperor, her mind in a daze, and she could only focus on his cock sliding in and out of her.

“Who do you belong to…”Grunted Geta.

Leaning her head back, Arabella whispered, “I’m yours…”

“Louder! I want the whole palace to hear you scream for me!” growled Geta as he pulled entirely out before slamming back inside her.

Gasping wide eyes, Arabella screamed, “Yours, I am forever your Geta…. Yes… Yes… more…please… My Geta… I want more of you!”

Grunting, losing a little of his pace, Geta grunted, “Yes, you are mine. Nobody shall ever have you. You were made for me, and nobody can ever… mmm… no one can ever compare to your cunt.”

Nodding, Arabella squeezed her legs around Geta’s waist, grabbing his hands and placing their intertwined hands on her hips. She entirely gave herself to her emperor.

“Yes, I will always be your Arabella. No one else can ever take me from you…” she declared before moaning loudly, feeling her emperor’s warm seed enter her.

As they gasped for their breath, coming down from their high, the lady ran her fingers through her liege’s hair.

Listening to his lady’s heartbeat, Geta thought back to her declaration. Did she mean it, or was it in the heat of their pleasure? Unable to fight the tiredness, both lady and emperor fell into Morephus' domain.

The following morning, Marcella entered her lady’s chambers, ready to prepare her for the day, when her heart jumped to her throat; Arabella wasn’t in bed. Thinking the worst, Marcella ran out of the room towards the emperors' chambers. As she nearly passed by Geta’s chambers, she stopped. Looking around, she quietly entered, growing nervous seeing the emperor naked with a woman in his arms. She decided to creep forward; the sight before made her face grow red, and she quickly moved her eyes away. In his arms was an equally naked Arabella with a slight smile on her face. A smile grew as she quickly covered them with a sheet and left in relief.

Arabella, feeling warm, snuggled deeper into the arms around her before she realized her actions. Sharply inhaling, she opened her eyes and inclined her head to ensure she knew where she was. Staring at her, Geta’s calm face flushed as memories of last night returned, the heat blooming in her stomach again. Feeling selfish, the young lady pushed herself up, grazing her lips to his; she stared at him for a moment before leaning in and giving a chaste kiss to her emperor, waking him from his slumber.

Usually, Geta would grow annoyed when any of his concubines tried to kiss him from his sleep, but once he opened his eyes and noticed it was Arabella, he closed his eyes again, enjoying her warm, soft lips on his. Allowing his vulnerable side to take hold, he raised a hand to her cheek, caressing it. Arabella's eyes snapped open in shock, breaking the kiss to lean away from Geta. Geta grumbled as he opened his eyes, annoyed that his kiss was cut short. As both lovers stayed frozen, staring at each other, neither knew how to begin their conversation.

Geta decided he would be the first to speak, his question from last night coming back to him: “Did you mean what you said last night…”

Arabella searched his face for his emotions but was unable to read him, “...I-”

“Did you mean that you will always be mine, Arabella, that no one has or ever will touch you?” questioned Geta more firmly as he sat up.

Arabella’s heartbeat echoed in her ears, staring into Geta’s soft eyes, even if his tone was firm. Even if her 15-year-old self screamed to place her walls up, pleading not to fall again, begging to protect their heart, Arabella could not lie anymore; she would not deny it.

Softening her face to grace a sincere smile, Arabella kissed her lover before whispering her words on his lips, “Yes, I am forever yours, Geta, my love… not one person in the entire Roman empire shall ever take your place. I do not want to; I only want to be with you, My Geta.”

Feeling tears prickle his eyes, The Emperor ignored his 17-year-old self, screaming at him to push her away, that if he pushed her away, they could not suffer through the same heartbreak they felt when their son died. Geta held his lover’s face as he kissed her back. She lay back on the bed as she wrapped her legs against his waist, again begging for him to enter.

As he entered her sweet body again, hearing her quiet moan, he whispered in her ear to make sure only she would listen to his vulnerable words. “I have missed you, My Arabella, my sweet girl, my empress.” As servants passed Emperor Geta’s chambers, they heard the sweet sounds of two lovers rejoining their hearts together again.

Later, the feast chamber was tense as many had conflicting feelings about the scene before them. Usually, Geta and Caracalla sat on an extended bench flocked by concubines as they were fed. However, Arabella sat beside Geta’s left today while Caracalla sat beside his brother’s right. Everyone saw the enormous angry mark on Arabella’s neck that she wore proudly as Geta ate happily. Acacius and Lucilla, who were invited, in truth, more commanded to come, shared a weary look between them before Lucilla drew in a sharp breath. Geta raised Arabella to his lap, looking at her with admiration as the young lady smiled at her emperor with the same look. While Caracalla and Macrinus also stared at the lovers, one in shock and the other in annoyance. It would be more challenging to separate the two, thought Macrinus as he drank his morning wine.

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