#//do I have unanswered asks? yes. is that going to stop me? no. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

perrywrites · 6 months

Note

Aaaaahhhhhh!!!! Your writings are so good! Can I ask for Ness, Kunigami, and Nagi to fill out the roster for the “mumbling ‘i want you inside me’” blurbs you got going on? If you’re not too busy of course! Idk which characters exactly you write for tho so it’s cool if you forego Ness or smth

YES, I was already writing Shidou, so I wrote Nagi and Kunigami with him as well. The cutie Ness will have to wait his turn (if there is one, I'll see if I'm inspired) 😞😞😞 BUT ALSO, having Kunigami and Shidou on one list feels illegal and wrong ngl LOLOL, thank you so much for liking my writing 🥺🥺🥺

Absentmindedly murmuring that you want him inside of you during practice part 4;

NSFW

Includes; Nagi, Kunigami, Shidou

Part 1 (Isagi, Hiori, Bachira) and part 2 (Chigiri, Reo) and part 3 (Barou, Kaiser) and part 5 (Sae, Rin, Karasu, Otoya, Yukimiya)

Nagi: he only knows you’re here when Reo elbows him, telling him that you’re here, except this time Reo is snickering in a way that confuses him. Why is he laughing? What’s so funny about you being here? Nevertheless, unanswered questions fading away in his head, he turns to see you across the field, and he waves at you - but there’s something weird about you. Although you wave back, like you would usually do, it’s not an energetic kind of wave. It’s more lethargic, hand barely raised, and something about you seems like you’re not really there. Right now you kind of seem like the zombies he shoots in his games. Concerned and confused, he blinks at your weird behaviour, but he saves it until his break. The moment he gets his chance, he’s making his way over to you, but the closer he gets to you, the more… confused he starts to feel; your state doesn’t seem as similar to a zombie’s as he initially thought. You’re certainly seeing him, that’s for sure, but your eyes are weird. They’re all opaque and dazed, as if you’re delirious from a fever of sorts. He doesn’t know why, but something about your glassy eyes makes him antsy. “... You there?” And it’s when your dreamy smile widens, your head tilting, that he realizes even before the words leave your mouth exactly what is up with you. Ah, so that’s it. You need him right now. That’s what those eyes are for, yes, he remembers. That’s how you look up at him sometimes when he’s trying to get you into bed. Except, you’ve never said the kind of thing you just said, and those sultry words send heat straight down to his cock. Something in that breathy tone of yours tugs at his heart and he becomes restless. What are you doing to him? He shifts on his feet slightly. You can’t do this to him right now. Not right now. Don’t look at him like that right now, it’s making him think of you in a way that’s going to make going back to practice really hard - pun intended. The only kind of thoughts that are sitting in his head now are all images of him making you cry on his cock, using that pussy of yours until you pass out, pounding away until your voice is ruined. And, ah, shit, well. He can no longer deny himself, it’s too hard to resist this urge and go back to practice. So when Reo comes to tell him that practice is about to start, all he mutters is a quiet “sorry Reo” before he grabs you by the arm and drags you off somewhere. You’re the one that started this, you can take responsibility by letting him go as many times as he wants, right?

Shidou: the moment he catches that hazy gaze of yours, he’s busting his ass laughing right on the field, yelling to his teammates something about how he’s eager to score even harder with his girl looking all cute for him. Rin is the one that tells him to shut up - both of them somehow seem destined to stick together, joining the same exact league, both bemoaning their misfortune. All Shidou does is almost start a fight, taunting Rin back in response, telling him that if he’s so jealous he should stop being loveless and go get with someone already so he can hop off of Shidou’s dick already. Of course, the rest of their teammates and coach have to get involved to calm both of their asses down, and so there’s an unplanned break. Immediately, first things first, he heads over to you, all amused, noting how you’re still looking at him like that, all lovesick and yearning. Shit, damn, you’re gonna make him catch a public indecency case. “Shit sweetheart, you’re looking like you want to milk my cock, huh? Want me to bust my load inside of you or something?” Turns out, that’s exactly what you wanted, because you say that - say that you want him inside of you. Well then, he didn’t expect that - usually in the face of his desire (for you, you, only you), you had a tendency to be a bit more shy. That was nice, getting to tease you and watch you get flustered, then have you make all of those lewd sounds and faces for him - but… There was something about you being all bold and blunt like this about wanting him to fuck you that got his blood pumping. It made him want to go the extra mile in fucking you - even though he already always goes full out when fucking you - try out new positions and breed you in each and every single one, shoot his burning hot cum right into your womb as he holds you down and your perfect pussy flutters around his cock again and again. He won’t even take his cock out this time, leave it in until he gets hard enough to fuck you again and again and again - he’ll give it all to you, he’ll get you fucking pregnant, fuck his cum into you until he’s sure of conception, shit. You want that, don’t you? Just the same as him, yeah? Of course you do, you’re just as much of a fucking pervert as him. So within a moment of you saying something that hot, he has already made the decision of pumping his seed into you right then and there. That’s why he immediately picks you up, throwing you onto his shoulder and you yelp - confused and disoriented as he starts carrying you off, warning everyone to not enter the showers for the next hour or so unless they want to hear him giving it to you good. Rin scoffs from the side, glaring, saying something about practice, but Shidou laughs, having none of it. “Fuck off virgin eyelashes, impregnating my girl takes priority~” You hear Rin muttering something about him not being a virgin beneath his breath, but that’s no longer your concern. You’ve lent fuel to a forest fire and now it’s going to burn through the whole country, don’t think you can walk after how hard he fucks you. After all, Shidou Ryusei loves invitations, especially if it’s the kind you give. Although, your biggest concern soon will definitely be how you’re going to face the rest of his teammates after they inevitably hear all those raunchy sounds you’re 100% sure Shidou will make sure you’re unable to suppress...

Kunigami: although he’s not exactly an oblivious guy, he’s not exactly the most conscious guy either when it comes to this kind of stuff. He never really knew when a girl crushed on him or swooned over his gentlemanly behaviour up until he got a confession. That still holds true even now, but you’re not exactly ever ‘subtle’ - case in point, those very obvious bedroom eyes you’re giving him at the moment. He feels his ears burn, face warm - not because of physical exertion - as he tries to ignore your eyes absolutely burning through his back. Why are you looking at him like that right now? Are you even aware of the kind of dreamy expression you’re making? You don’t seem like it. God, you’re distracting him, completely. The things he’d do to be alone with you right now - goddammit, he feels like a pervert now. When his break arrives and he goes over to you, the fervent blush only deepens - you’re still looking at him like you want him to claim you, eyes all hooded and dazed, pouty lips parted open. “Hey…” He curses himself for his awkwardness even with his own girlfriend, keeping his eyes averted from you as he rubs the back of his neck. “… You good?” Is that all he can say? Really? Wow, great going Kunigami, what a great job. But before he can berate himself any further for his awkwardness - he’s always a little shy when it comes to the more intimate side of your relationship - you say something that has him sputtering, eyes wide as he looks at you. Did you - did you really just say that? The way your lips twitch up into a small smile is enough of a confirmation, and he feels his heart beat intensely beneath his broad ribcage. How do you - how do you just… say things like that. “You… You sure do love to tease me, huh…?” And then he falls silent, shifting on his leg as you giggle lightly at his words, the sound of your voice making him shiver slightly now. Do you even know what you do to him? How you make him want to push your legs up right into your chest and just pound away? Fuck you into the bed as you cry out his name? Claim you, over and over again, make you sore and exhausted as he uses your body until you’re full of his cum. Fuck, god. He should be thinking of kicking balls right now, scoring goals, but instead his head grows empty and blood rushes down to the wrong head. Why are you like this? Why do you do this to him? He curses beneath his breath, willing the wrong head to go back to sleep, and he catches you staring at the bulge all yearningly and - ah fuck, he can’t play like this. He grabs your hand and pulls you up. You’re coming with him and helping him deal with the ‘problem’ you caused, okay? Hopefully he can get a quick round in before the break finishes, or well, if he can’t… He might as well fuck you for as long as he pleases.

Also I finally realized there's a character limit per block thingy LMFAO, I couldn't figure out what was the problem the last two times and just did 2 characters I'm such an idiot 😭😭😭

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loveshotzz · 9 months

Text

All I Really Want Is You

older!neighbor!widower! steve x fem!reader chap seven/ten - a slow burn series of blurbs - updated every wednesday

Bad Idea

summary: After a week of avoiding, you find Steve at your front steps.

wc: 4.3k

warnings: 18+ series for future chapters. Steve and Reader have THE talk, we learn Steve & Emma’s story. There will be discussions of feelings about watching a loved one struggle with terminal illness and death in this chapter. There’s not a ton of details about her struggles but it is touched on. Angsty beginning and a very, very fluffy end 🧡

author’s note: it’s all up hill from here guys, just a little growing pains. i can’t believe there’s only three chapters left after this 🥺 thank you for reading and all of the sweet reblogs and messages through out this whole series. you have made this so special for me and it’s been such a comfort to write as I navigate my own life changes right now.

🌇 <- chapter six -> chapter eight

The Masterlist / The Playlist / The tune:

End of June -

It had been a week since Steve came back from his camping trip. A week of good morning texts left unanswered, of making sure not to look out your window when you knew he was home - even when you could hear him play with Bandit. He was doing that outside more than usual, a tactic to try and get you to come out and talk to him or hell, even just look at him.

He doesn’t know that a few times it almost worked.

Always & Forever

The words engraved into silver also stay carved deep and fresh in your mind, not letting you forget. You couldn’t, even if you tried. Especially not her beautiful eyes. Does she hate you? Part of you feels like you would hate you. The guilt threatens to punch the air out of your lungs.

The days go on like this with you doing everything in your power to avoid him while he did everything he could to run into you. The last ditch effort was after you caught him getting out of his car, your eyes meeting for a split second before you cut through the alley walking in through the back gate instead. Your resolve to stay away grows weaker when Steve’s good morning texts finally stop after that.

So when Brad, the new server, gets the courage to ask you out, you say yes. It was a bad idea, anyone could’ve told you that, you didn’t really want him. He was just a distraction from facing the consequences of your own actions.

He takes you to RPM Steakhouse in the heart of downtown and surprisingly he actually makes you laugh. He’s full of food industry horror stories he’s collected over the years. He’s not boring and he’s attentive when you talk, asking questions like he’s really interested. The butterflies that have built a home in your rib cage don’t flutter and fly for him though. The nerves that make your heart beat faster, the ones that feel like they vibrate from your fingertips, like your skin is on fire, are stagnant.

He’s not Steve.

You skip out on dessert when it’s offered to you, but you let him hug you before you get in your separate Uber’s home. It worked for a few hours at least. Looking out the window when your car hits the expressway, the skyline shines gleaming like the stars in the clear night sky.

It’s not very long until your phone fights for your attention, the screen illuminating the backseat. It pulls you back to reality, your breath catching when it’s not Brad’s name that flashes across your screen.

Steve

Can we please just talk?

You aren’t expecting to see him at your front steps when the Uber drops you off at your gate. His hair sticks out wild at the ends, like he’s been pulling it all night, scratch that, all week and it makes more guilt settle deep in your gut. The scruff on his jaw is almost dark enough to be a beard now. His legs are covered in gray sweats and the white undershirt he wears fits tight over his shoulders. You hate how handsome he still is, even with his slides and socks.

He’s talking to himself, moving his hands like he’s trying to explain something, reciting a speech you can’t quite hear from as far as you are. The leftovers shift in your bag when you take your first step making the styrofoam squeak and plastic crinkle, his eyes shoot up instantly at the noise.

“Honey?”

Those wings start to stretch and flutter even after just one word. You wish you could be mad at how much power one word from him has, but all you feel is the weight of how much you missed him when his face softens.

“Hi Steve.” You catch the way his lips twitch at the sound of his name coming from your mouth when you open the gate. It had been too long for him, he’d become addicted to it without even knowing it.

He stands up, his eyes can’t help but roam your bare legs that sit exposed in your black cocktail dress, or the way the middle sinches into your waist, before fluttering out over the tops of your thighs. His own jealousy threatens to bubble over at the thought of you wearing this for someone else. He needs you to understand him.

“Is this a bad time?” He asks, scratching the back of his neck while he reads the restaurant name on your bag. He hopes whoever took you there isn’t coming back. “If it is sweetheart, I can give you more space. I just, I just wanted to see you.”

You stop in front of him, further away than normal but close enough to smell the cigar smoke that still clings to the cotton of his shirt. It mixes with the spice of his cologne from earlier this morning. His eyes find yours without hesitation, glazed over from the glass of whiskey you’re sure he nursed before finding himself on your front steps. They shimmer under the moon like emeralds and you just want to get lost in them.

The answer you want to give and the answer that you think will protect you are at each other’s throats, constricting yours from giving him anything right away. His face crumbles a little when his question is met with silence. You don’t want him to go.

“No, it’s not a bad time.” It comes out before you can fight it.

The smile that tugs at Steve’s lips warms your face like the summer sun, his hand reaching out for you before pulling back and finding a new home deep in his pocket instead. Baby steps. Your arm brushes against his when you walk past him, the smallest touch lighting the match.

“I just need to get out of this dress.” You can’t look at him when you pull at the fabric as if to show him how uncomfortable it is.

“Should I wait down here?” He clears his throat a little unsure of himself as he watches you dig through your purse. He didn’t think he’d get this far.

Cicadas buzz loud against the jingle of your keys in the beat of silence it takes you to unlock the front door. The stale air of the walkway hits you like an oven when you push it open, the heat making your skin stick more than it did outside.

“You can come up. I promise my dishes are done this time.” You flash him a smirk from over your shoulder watching the way your gesture makes him relax like you’d intended, secretly enjoying the blush you still can get to flush his cheeks so easily.

Steve hadn’t been inside your apartment since the day he fixed your sink, and you don’t think you’ll ever get used to seeing him here. He’s handsome in a timeless way, still somehow put together even in his disheveled state. You watch the way he takes in his surroundings like he wants to commit it all to memory not knowing that he actually is, just in case this all blows up in his face and you never let him come back here again.

The only noise that fills the room is the loud whirr of your A/C and it’s your turn to clear your throat.

“Umm, feel free to take a seat. I’ll be really quick.” You awkwardly gesture towards your green couch, grimacing when your mind goes back to the beautiful leather one at his place.

He just nods, rubbing his palms against his thighs while taking one last look around before sitting. Your nose scrunches when you see how deep he sinks down, maybe a used couch wasn’t the best idea you’d ever had.

You wait till your door is shut to let out the long breath you feel like you’ve been holding this whole time. The familiar thumping in your chest returns ten fold. He’s in your living room.

You try not to think too much about the yoga shorts and oversized shirt you change into, especially when your muscles relax, no longer strained by the tight nylon material dress. Allowing a single once over in your long mirror, you force yourself back out, the creak of your door alerting him of your return. His stare makes goosebumps dance across sticky skin in a battle with the air conditioning.

“Do you want some water?” You try to sound casual when you ask, keeping your back to him so he can’t see the way you’re still buying time.

“S- sure,” he stutters out, a cough following and you hear the way the cushions respond to his weight as he tries leaning forward.

Now it's the whirr of your a/c and the grumbling of the ice machine that silences the unspoken feelings that are begging to come out. Scratching and clawing their way to the surface, the cracks in your facade start getting deeper the longer you stay quiet.

Steve breaks first.

“I think there’s a conversation we should have.” He pauses before starting over, “There’s a conversation I want to have.”

You freeze when the realization of where you left the watering can smacks you right in the face.

“Steve-“ you start, unable to meet his eyes and he’s quick to cut you off.

“Listen, I have some things I need to say and you should at least let me get it off my chest if you’re just going to pretend I don’t exist now.” His words make you realize the selfishness that hides under your insecurities of not being good enough for someone like him.

He stands up when you turn around, both of you staying on opposite sides of the room. He takes a shaky breath before dragging his fingers through his hair.

“I didn’t think I’d ever feel these things again with anyone else, I was sure of it actually and then you showed up in your horribly packed moving truck.” He laughs a little like he’s still wrapping his head around all of it, and he knows if the situation was any different you’d roll your eyes at him for the teasing jab.

“You brought all of these things out of me that I thought I’d lost for good. Like, I can’t remember the last time I cared about what I was wearing when I left the house, but the past month I’ve been obsessed about it. Like what if she’s outside? What if she’s looking out her window? What if she wants to talk to me?” The veins in his neck show themselves as he gets more worked up but he’s not done yet.

“Then last week when you showed up at my front gate, looking even prettier than the last time I saw you, because you do that somehow, I couldn’t help myself around you anymore. The fact that you were actually going to kiss me back after I put the worst moves on you made me feel like I won the lottery or something.” His gaze meets yours to make sure he isn’t scaring you off before taking a deep breath.

“And then, and then you just - you just left without so much as a reason why. It was pretty clear though when I got home, and maybe that’s my fault because I feel like I’m doing this all backwards but you didn’t give us a chance to even talk about it.”

Steve looks like his world is falling apart, and the things he’s saying make you feel like anything but a second choice. You wish you could go back to that rainy day at his house and do things over again.

“I wasn’t given the shot at a fair fight the first time something special was taken from me, but I have one now and I’m not walking away unless you kick me out.” He straightens his shoulders a little before another anxious hand runs through his wild hair. His chest heaves as he finally gets out what’s been sitting just below the surface the whole time, his fears revealing themselves behind flushed cheeks and glassy eyes.

The feeling like you’re slighting another woman who isn’t here is hard to navigate. It makes your own eyes sting but you don’t let the tears fall. Not when he’s handing his heart to you like he means it.

“I’d never kick you out,” your words come out quiet - soft, a stark contrast to the way his boomed loud with conviction, but he doesn’t miss them.

Hope starts to sprout deep in his chest for the first time in years.

“Never?” He breathes, relief relaxing the hard lines on his face while he looks at you from under his lashes.

His feet take him those few steps closer and when you make no moves to tell him to stop he keeps going. The sadness that plagues his handsome features slowly starts to fade and the bags under his eyes become more obvious. You want to kiss them.

Your hand extends, fingers reaching out for his. His eyes follow your movements, taking in what you’re offering and he doesn’t hesitate anymore, interlocking them like when he walked you to your front door. You watch the way his shoulders give the moment they touch and his eyes close as he relishes in the feel of it. Of you.

Your back hits the edge of your kitchen sink when he crowds your space a little more, your fingers playing songs on imaginary strings together. Memorizing he dips between each one. His nose skims across your forehead making your own eyes close. How could you ever stay away from him?

“Never.”

He hums at your confession, squeezing your hand gently before pulling back. He takes his time admiring your face from this close. He missed you so much, he actually thinks it’s kind of crazy. His other hand reaches up to cup your cheek, the pad of his thumb tracing the high bone. He loves the way you lean into it. You missed him too.

“Can we have that conversation now?”

All you can do is nod, tears still threatening to spill out but now a different kind.

The two of you sit on your couch for hours, worn in cushions pushing you close together. Your head rests on his arm that’s draped along the back of it, your socked feet in his lap. He tells you how he met Emma through his high school sweetheart Nancy. The ex that turned him into a man as he put it, the one that made him really think about the kind of person he wanted to be. Even going as far to say Emma would have never given him the time of day if it wasn’t for her. Nancy was the Managing Editor of The Chicago Tribune and Emma was her Editor in Chief.

After being introduced by Nancy at a sports gala, Steve pursued her hard, especially because she said no the first three times he asked her out. It makes you giggle when he laughs about it. He said he knew he wanted to marry her after the first date and a year later he proposed to her on a group vacation with Eddie, Robin, Nancy and a few other friends in Mexico. The picture you saw was taken right after she said yes.

The wedding was small, just a few of their closest friends at The Chicago Botanical Gardens, and a dinner at Smith & Wollensky next to the river after. He told you how Eddie pretended to be mad the whole night becauseSteve made Robin his best man instead. They both moved into Steve’s apartment near Wrigley Field after a honeymoon in Italy. He said it was some of the best years of his life with her there, young and in love in one of the liveliest neighborhoods in the city. Then a few years passed and both their careers started taking off and they started wanting more as they got older. A family.

That’s when they started to invest in renovating this fixer upper of a house in a less nightlife oriented neighborhood. The house you live next door to. Between busy work schedules and dealing with contractors when the symptoms first started, they didn’t think anything of it. They chalked it up to exhaustion until she fainted in her office a few months later, then they finally saw a doctor. Another month later after multiple tests and hospital visits Emma was diagnosed with ALS.

“I’ve never seen something debilitate someone so fast, and Emma, god Emma was so strong. Seeing her like that at the end, it fucking broke me.” Steve’s voice cracks, a silent stream of tears falling down his cheeks now.

Your heart breaks for them, the tragedy of watching the person you love fall apart with nothing to do to stop it. An entire life you had planned ripped out from under you with zero warning or mercy. A cruel joke.

You reach up, using the back of your knuckles to wipe away his tears. He leans in your touch, his gaze meeting yours with so many emotions inside of them, you think you might drown.

“We decided to stay in our apartment when she couldn’t walk anymore, with the rate it was moving she didn’t want me to live in this big new house meant for our new beginning and have her…have her die in it,” the last part comes out in just above a whisper, stopping to collect his thoughts. His brows furrow together and his fingers search for yours again. You give them to him without question.

“We checked her into hospice a month after that, Eddie flew in the day she chose to get off assistance. She was surrounded by the people she loved the most those last days.” He takes another deep breath before he continues, it shakes just like his hands.

“That was the hardest thing I ever had to do. I don’t know how someone is supposed to go through that kind of pain and move on from it. Be a person again after it.” He takes another pause and he pulls you closer. His anchor.

“I don’t know if I’d still be here if it wasn’t for Eddie moving into the house with me those first three months, if I’m being totally honest with you.” He sniffs, his gaze falls to his lap to try and hide the shame at the thought, and you squeeze his hand a little bit harder.

“I’m so sorry Steve.” Your voice cracks at the weight of everything he’s been carrying around. The gravity of the way you left him tightens in your throat.

The tears you’d been holding back break free, making his eyes snap to yours. He lets your hand go to wipe your cheeks with gentle fingers like you did to his just moments before. He knows you're apologizing for more than just his bad luck.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m okay now,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to yours. The tips of your noses touch, tears mixing and dripping down the ends of them. You keep your eyes closed in hopes that if you focus hard enough, maybe you could take away some of his pain. Even if it’s just a little bit. “We’re okay now.”

You don’t know how long the two of you sit like this together, not speaking, letting wandering hands memorize faces and fingertips. Your breathing falls in time while your cheeks start to dry. Puffy red eyes stay closed while your muscles finally relax. His nose rubs small circles against yours that make smiles neither of you can see stretch across tear streaked faces.

When you finally open your eyes, he’s already looking at you, something brighter inside of his now like he just let go of a big secret. He doesn’t have to hide anymore.

It’s you that finally works up the strength to pull away enough to really see his whole face after depriving yourself of it for so long.

“I actually kinda feel like she sent you here, despite me,” he admits, laughing nervously, breaking the silence, “She made me promise her that I’d try and find love again when the time was right, I eventually said yes after she asked me at least a dozen times, but I never actually intended on it.”

Steve stops for a second to brush some of your mascara that smudged, holding your eyes in the forest of his.

“Then five years later, this tough girl tries moving an entire apartment’s worth of stuff by herself next door. I mean, you practically did.” He smiles at how proud you look of yourself, “I knew I was screwed when Bandit sniffed you out.”

You giggle like you're just as love sick as him and he wishes he could play it on a loop whenever he’s sad.

“She was probably laughing at how bad I was at trying to flirt with you.” His ears turn cherry red while he tries to hide his very real embarrassment.

“You did run away from me for like a solid week after we met the first time if you remember,” you tease, making his eyebrows raise in challenge. You weren’t supposed to roast him too.

“I guess we’re even then aren’t we?” He counters, smirking when you scoff, wrapping his arm around you so you can’t move away like you try to in fake protest.

Your legs end up draped over the tops of his thighs, fitting snug into his side. The warmth of his body makes your eyelids droopy. The cedar undertones he always carries calms all of your nerves.

“She was beautiful Steve,” you whisper, playing with the chain that dangles off his neck before looking up at him with a smile, “And maybe even a little too cool for you if I dare say.” It’s genuine when it comes out of your mouth, no hidden insecurities, an understanding that he wasn’t settling for you and it makes Steve want to kiss you even more.

“She would have thought you were way too cool for me too.” He laughs, tracing the side of your face with his fingertips. You want to look away from the intensity of it all but you force yourself to hold his stare, keeping yourself open for him. It’s quiet for a few minutes, letting everything that was shared tonight really sink in. That stray you missed so much makes an appearance and you finally get to be the one that pushes it back, and his hair is just as soft as you imagined.

“What are you doing on the fourth, pretty girl?” The new nickname makes you shift in your seat, the hint of a smug smirk begs to break across his face when he catches it. Maybe he’s still got it.

“Nothing, I got the day off.” You hate that his question is enough to make you shy.

It’s too hard to hold his gaze this time, but he doesn’t let that slide. His fingers hook under your chin to tilt your eyes back up to his. Noses brushing, your lips just inches apart like this.

“Be my date to the block party?” He whispers, whiskey and tobacco still lingering on his breath.

You smile, nudging your nose against his in a dare.

“I’d love to Steve.” His name comes out around strawberry chapstick lips, they brush with his feeling like velvet and it makes his nostrils flare.

He dips his head with a groan kissing the corner of mouth instead, before placing one on both your cheeks and another, a lingering one, against your forehead.

“In honor of not doing things backwards, I’m going to wait until I’ve taken you out. The way it should happen. The way someone like you deserves.”

Steve wants to make you feel special too.

It's hard for you to feel rejected with his reasoning and seeing the clock on your stove read in bright red numbers - 2:46am. The fourth was only three days away now.

You play it off with a roll of your eyes and a dramatic “fine” that makes him really laugh for the first time all night, giving you another kiss on the cheek. This one a little wet. He can’t get enough of the way you can’t look at him after.

It’s another thirty minutes before he decides it’s time to go home when your yawn is too loud to hide and your head presses harder into his chest. He wishes he could stay, and one night he knows he will.

You both linger in the doorway with fingers wrapped up tight, neither one of you ready to let go. He just wants to stare at you, but he knows the alarm stuffed in his pocket is going to make his life miserable in three hours.

Instead, he gives you another kiss on the forehead telling you he’ll text in the morning, and he wishes he could have a picture of the smile you give him when you promise to text back.

beta’d by @superblysubpar

dividers by @newlips

older!steve edit by @eddiemunsons-missingnipple

🌇 -> chapter eight

#my wriitng #all i really want is you series #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington slow burn #steve harrington series #steve harrington fanfiction #older!steve #older!steve harrington

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callmelola111 · 8 months

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loser!ellie ♡ dating app headcanons

synopsis: totally sfw hc’s of loser!ellie (modern au) on dating apps, including a cute little 1st date scenario. basically just pure fluff !!!

| 𓆣 | pairing & wc: ellie williams x reader. wc: 1.4k

a/n: never written headcanons before, crazy ass shit. idk if i did it exactly right but i think it will be an entertaining read no matter what. i’ve recently caved and downloaded hinge which is what inspired this---but there’s only like 40 gay bitches on there and that’s it (also like no mascs?? i’m attracted to any kind of non-man but still,,, the shortage is real y’all). ALSO let me know if this is something you’d like a nsfw/smut part 2 of. much loveeee ♡~ lola

| ❀ | loser!ellie who took weeks of convincing from dina and jesse to finally download hinge after she wouldn’t shut up about how she’s “never beating the loser lesbian allegations”. truly she could have any girl she wants but just doesn’t know how to speak to them in real life. they were so fed up with her bullshit.

| 𓆣 | loser!ellie who only has like 3 pictures of her actual face so the rest of the photos on her hinge profile are just art pics and gay memes

| ❀ | loser!ellie who had to beg dina for help writing all the little prompts just to reject all her ideas because she’d “never say something like that!”

| 𓆣 | loser!ellie who started getting so cocky as soon as those likes began to roll in. saying some shit like “ooo i have rizz” in the cringiest way possible. jesse just says it’s cause there’s a masc lesbian shortage and of course she flips him off in response.

| ❀ | loser!ellie whose cockiness immediately leaves her body when she realizes she has to go through the likes and accept/reject every girl. eventually she just gave up and stopped looking because it felt “too mean” and like “too much work”.

| 𓆣 | loser!ellie who SUCKS at responding to messages and likes after she lost all interest about 2 days into having the app. that is until she stumbled upon your profile…

✄ - - - - ♡ - - - -

| ❀ | loser!ellie whose glued to her notifications after she matched with you on hinge. at this point you’re her fixation, and every other message besides yours are going unanswered. as soon as she works up the courage to ask for your number, and you oblige, she immediately deletes the app.

| 𓆣 | loser!ellie who stares at her screen for like 5 minutes straight at the first text message she plans to send you, even though it was literally just “hey, is this y/n?”. she even googled the difference in connotations between hi, hey, and hello. it’s safe to say the girl is straight up mental about you.

| ❀ | loser!ellie who gets more and more unhinged as y’all get better acquainted with each other through texts. eventually she's spamming you with updates about her day, instagram memes that she thinks are funny, and an occasional flirty message—but of course, she’s waiting for that first date to really test the romantic waters. like yes she’s obsessed with you, but to the extent where she’s so scared to screw things up so every little move she makes is with caution and regard to your feelings and boundaries. it’s honestly super sweet.

| 𓆣 | loser!ellie who eventually asked you on a first date after you sent like 3 different flirty memes to get the point across that you like her a lot and wanna be taken out for real. you definitely were sending her some shit like this…

| ❀ | loser!ellie who planned out a whole agenda for y’alls first date so it would be absolutely perfect. she refused to tell you where she was taking you or what you guys would be doing because she thought it would be better as a surprise. and although you were kinda stressing about what to wear and what to expect, the element of mystery was kind of endearing.

✄ - - - - ♡ - - - -

| 𓆣 | loser!ellie who pulls up to your house in her little beat up sedan that she had cleaned for like the first time ever just before she came and picked you up. there was still clearly some reminisce of her mess as seen on the stained seats and crumbs on the floor, but you didn’t mind—yours was just as bad (probably worse).

| ❀ | loser!ellie who took you out for sushi as the first stop on your date, to which she graciously paid for even with you fighting to put your card down on the table first. she looked so adorable with her little california roll, and even cuter when she accidentally got too much wasabi in a bite and was fiending for water while simultaneously trying to play it cool in front of you. you just laughed which immediately made her feel better about the whole thing.

| 𓆣 | loser!ellie who then took you to your town’s expansive park to walk the dirt trails and just talk. neither of you had ever gotten along with someone so well, the conversation was absolutely effortless. you talked about all your interests, funny life stories, your fears, and so much more. ellie listened attentively with nods and affirmations throughout which made you feel so cared for, something most girls on dating apps could never do. you extended the courtesy back and ellie told you all about her own stuff, including her obsession with space, to which she pulled out her favorite book on the topic to show you. space had never really piqued your interest before, but when it was coming out of the freckled girl's mouth, it seemed like the coolest thing in the world.

| ❀ | loser!ellie who sat next to you on one of the park’s wooden benches. time had flown by and neither of you had realized until your head was resting on her shoulder as the sun set in front of you. the orange cast hit her auburn hair just right and it looked like she was practically glowing. you couldn’t help but stare at her beauty which she noticed and with a concerned look questioned if she had anything on her face. you informed ellie of the trance she had put you in and she blushed the color of your pink nails just before leaning in to give you the most tender, loving kiss you’d ever received.

| 𓆣 | loser!ellie who couldn’t stop kissing you once she started. your lips remained locked with hers for a solid 5 minutes, lips puffy and saliva exchanging, until the sound of a dog barking a few feet away broke the exchange. the energy had shifted in the best way possible and the both of you quickly opened up about how much you liked one another. one thing lead to another and suddenly ellie has out her pocket knife and is carving an E + R (reader) into the wood of the park bench. how lesbian of you guys ♡

| ❀ | loser!ellie who didn’t want the date to end and you were right there with her, so you somehow found yourselves in an empty parking lot at 9:00pm, drinking slurpees while she tried to teach you how to skate. it started off as a real attempt with her teaching you the basics like where to put your feet and the importance of bending your knees. after about 4 different falls onto the dirty asphalt you gave up on your genuine pursuits. discouraged, you sat right down on the board, knees up, before ellie gave you a push and you rolled across the lot. she was laughing her ass off and you were too until you hit a bump and tumbled off.

| 𓆣 | loser!ellie who bolted into the CVS the parking lot belonged to and bought a bunch of unnecessary first aid items for the small cut on your knee. she came back out of the sliding doors and you died of laughter as she pulled out a box of peppa pig bandaids for your skating “injury”. ellie insisted you needed to be taken care of though, so you let her do her thing and she finished it off with a small peck to the cap of your knee and one on your forehead.

| ❀ | loser!ellie who spent the trip back to your place with one hand on the wheel and the other on your thigh, driving you absolutely wild. you almost had to remind yourself that this was just the first date.

| 𓆣 | loser!ellie who had been parked in your driveway for 10 minutes already but continued to stall your departure with more of her shenanigans. soon she ran out of things to say though and leaned over to kiss you goodbye. this goodbye turned into more and you ended up in her lap before the night was over. it wasn’t until your back hit the steering wheel making the car honk that you finally exited the vehicle.

| ❀ | loser!ellie who waited for you to completely make it inside before she drove home, giving you a final little wave as you opened the front door. after she was back at her place she instantly texted you about date 2 and thanked you for the best night of her life. in her eyes, you were a keeper!

✄ - - - - masterlist - - - - ♡

taglist...

@endureher @gold-dustwomxn @alexpritch @4rt3m1ss @robinismywifee @sophlovesbooks @97cityy

(taglist is for all callmelola111 works, if you'd like to be removed just kindly lmk)

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thelov3lybookworm · 9 months

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I Didn't Ask For This (part six)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Summary: Marriage had always been something sacred to little Y/n, something dream like, where her husband would come and whisk her away to a fairyland. At least, that's what she had always thought.

All her dreams would be shattered.

But maybe she can salvage them?

•○●⛦●○•

Tw: forced marriage, none more that I can think of, so let me know if I need to add anything.

•○🌑○•

Y/n walked around her room, getting dressed as she thought about the previous night.

She had found her husband kissing someone else, then gone to a very noisy place and talked to a male, then bought back home by her husband, nearly died, yelled at her husband and then agreed to giving him a chance.

That was not at all what she had expected when she woke up the previous morning, but that now felt centuries ago.

There was a knock on her door, and when she opened it, she found Nesta bouncing on her heels and looking nervous. It gave Y/n a little fright, because Nesta was not one to be nervous.

Hell, she would probably look the Mother in the eye and judge her for making the world.

"Nesta, is everything alright?" Y/n spoke slowly.

Nesta nodded, taking a deep breath before speaking. "So, you know how we train everyday, like, with Cassian, Emerie, Gwyn, and all those priestesses?"

"Yes?" She drew out the word.

"So I would love... if you could join us."

Y/n blinked. "You want me to join you." Nesta nodded. "I don't know Nesta... I don't think that's a good idea."

"Then stop thinking."

"What?"

"You said you think it's a bad idea, so stop thinking." Y/n laughed, shaking her head.

"Is... is Azriel going to be there?" She questioned, because despite her having agreed to giving him a chance, she wanted to keep interactions with him minimal.

"Yes, but I can kick him out if you want."

"And how are you going to kick him out?"

"I'll probably order Cassian to throw him out. Or I'll kick him between his legs, so hard that he wouldn't be able to leave his bed for days. Then we can train in peace."

"Even though that would be a good way to get rid of him, I don't think I want anyone to get hurt. I'll come, but I want you to know that I haven't ever done anything like that in my whole life, so it will take time."

"That won't be problem. So you're coming?"

"Now?" Nesta nodded. Y/n sighed. "I guess i don't have anything else to do. I'll come."

Nesta squealed before becoming serious again. "Do you have anything other than dresses and gowns?" Y/n shook her head. "Hmm. I think you can wear mine. They would surely fit you."

Before Nesta could say or do anything else though, a bundle smacked her straight in the face. She grunted, catching the bundle before it could fall to the ground.

It was training clothes. Nesta scowled at the ceiling. "You couldn't have been a little gentle?"

In response, a wind that sounded like a laugh swept through the hallway.

Nesta handed the shirt and pants to Y/n, who closed the door and changed into them. They felt weird. She had only ever worn dresses and gowns, having no need of wearing pants and shirts.

When she stepped out, Nesta began tugging Y/n towards the training area, linking their arms.

Maybe Azriel wouldn't be there. Maybe he would have some other work to do.

Her prayers went unanswered. He was present.

As soon as she entered, their eyes met.

As the corners of his lips lifted in a small smile, she quickly looked away, towards the opposite end of the ring where Cassian was having a conversation with Gwyn and Emerie.

As Nesta led her towards them, Y/n looked at the other females present. By the looks of it, the training was hard.

Y/n wondered if she'd be dead by the end of the training session.

•○🌑○•

Y/n was dead. She was sure of it as she lay on the ground and stared at the sky.

Nesta's head appeared in Y/n's vision, grinning.

"Did you have fun?"

"Do I look like I had fun? I'm never doing this again."

"Oh shut up. It wasn't that bad. Just a few squats and lunges and planks."

"Not that bad? I feel like I'm dying, Nesta."

"What's the fun in it of you don't feel like that?"

"I hate you." Y/n muttered as she sat up, groaning at the pain in her body. Just then, a hand appeared in front of her and she glanced up.

Azriel smiled at her. "I could help..."

Without breaking eye contact, she stood up on her own and turned back to Nesta, who winked at her, grinning.

Nesta nodded towards the exit and started waking towards it. As Y/n started to follow her, Azriel caught her wrist, but let go when she looked at him. He swallowed.

"I thought you said you'd give me a chance."

"And?"

"You aren't– never mind." A pause. Then. "Would you like to go to dinner with me tonight? Just us."

She wanted to ask why, even though she knew the reason. Finally she sighed. "Fine."

He smiled. "Thank you. I'll be waiting."

•○🌑○•

Part 7

Taglist: @bubybubsters @maxxieluvs @bubbbllee @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @waytoomanyteenagefeels @tell-me-a-poem @the-lake-is-calling @spaxxxi @japanese-wonderland-blog @valeridarkness @moonlwghts @deadratio @esposadomd @harrystylesfan2686 @missusbarnes-rogers @whatthefuckshappeningrn @hyacinthoideshispanica @historygeekqueen @lizziesfirstwife @nastynesta @aroseinvelaris @nightless @cleverzonkwombatsludge @kodokunarisu-blog @selillusion @eos-princess @moonfawnx @a-court-of-milkandhoney @emilyo-218 @wannabewolf @ailyr92 @chronically-online-cheese @myheartfollower @hells-sluttiest-new-arrival @marina468 @menaosama @starryhiraeth @hereticdance @mali22 @valencia-rou @azrielsstarlight @marvelouslovely-barnes @luvmoo @starlight-hope @a-frog-with-a-laptop @fall-myriad @alt-ghost @elleofdragons @ruleroftides

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scintillyyy · 3 months

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"tim goes to arkh--wait, no, tranquil river mental hospital. tim goes to tranquil river mental hospital", a short, unedited dick & tim fic

Dick swallows hard as he looks at the entrance to this place. This place being Tranquil River Mental Hospital--the place that Tim has apparently been for the past few months. All those months that Dick worried, the last time he saw Tim branded in his mind--the anger, asking Dick to trust him. And as much as Dick didn't want to--he let Tim go. It was--he thought it was best to trust that Tim knew what he needed. Tim seemed like he knew what he needed. And Dick would just wait for him--and be there if things didn't turn out like Tim was claiming.

But then they did. Bruce--Bruce was alive. And Dick was elated. If Bruce was alive, then Tim would definitely find signs of it--and after he did, he would come home. It's what he said he would do.

So Dick waited. And waited. But there was no sign--none--of his little brother. Not even through Ra's coming to town and trying to take over Wayne Enterprises--only stopped because Barbara had somehow figured out his plans to use Tommy Elliot and attack Bruce's holdings. Dick's calls remained unanswered.

Which--Dick was starting to get really worried. Tim wouldn't brush him off like thay, not when everyone--Gotham--was in danger. Had something happened? Was Tim okay?

It was Barbara who found him, in the end. Tranquil River Mental Hospital over in Pennsylvania--that was where she located him. Said it looked like he had been there for a couple of months.

Two hours away. The whole time, he was just two hours away.

How had he ended up here, of all places?

The place looks nice enough. The drive up to the entrance through the grounds showed a well-kept lawn, pleasant looking gardens, large trees, and several recreational centers. About as nice as a mental hospital could look, Dick supposes.

He takes a deep breath as he goes inside. Thankfully, it doesn't look too clinical and sterile in there. The lobby is filled with warm colors and plants, and the sun filters in nicely. The receptionist looks up with a bright smile.

"Can I help you?" she asks.

"Uh, Dick Grayson," Dick says. "I, um. Called ahead. I'm here to see my little brother--Tim Drake?"

"Of course!" The woman says. "If I could just see some identification?"-Dick hands her his license and she scans it quickly before returning it-"That all seems to be in order. You can go ahead and follow me this way to our visiting gardens. Your brother will be waiting for you there."

The snake through the halls, past other patients in hospital scrubs. Dick starts to get antsy. This is a real mental hospital--the thought of Tim in here for the past few months...it's hard to imagine. They exit out a set of double doors and, oh--a lump forms in Dick's throat. Oh, Tim.

His little brother, there. Dressed in light green scrubs, looking healthy and no worse for the wear. It's--Dick could cry in relief. Tim looks up and something in Dick's chest stutters.

Why does he have such an angry look in his eyes? He almost looks as if he's genuinely upset to see Dick. Is he--is he still mad at Dick? He had been angry, yes, but when he left Dick thought--he thought that under all that, their bond still existed. Their trust in each other. Their brotherhood.

This Tim doesn't seem to feel that way at all, not with the stone cold expression on his face. The receptionist leaves them with a cheery goodbye and they just look at each other for a moment. Dick's smile falters. Tim's face doesn't loosen up at all.

Dick gingerly takes a seat at the table, across from Tim. "Tim, hey," he starts, keeping his voice gentle.

"Dick," Tim snaps. "What are you doing here?"

How can he even ask that? "What do you mean--Tim, of course I came for you. You're in a place like this--how? Why? No, wait, I mean--how are you?"

"Oh, you care about that now? You don't think I'm crazy anymore?" Tim spits, sounding downright hostile.

The wild accusation stings. That Tim would ever think that if him- "Tim," he says, trying his best to be patient. "I never thought you were crazy--grieving, yes. Crazy, no."

Tin snorts derisively. "Sure," he says sarcastically. "Which is exactly why you conspired to put me in here."

Dick can feel the moment his temper snaps. He can be patient with his little brother--but he also won't just sit there and let Tim say these awful accusations to him. "I don't know what exactly you think," Dick says testily, "But I've been nothing but concerned about you, Tim. How dare you-"

Tim's demeanor changes on a dime. Dick stops talking, slighly startled at the sudden change. Tim slouches back in his chair and lets out a tired groan. "Man," he says, flashing a grin at Dick. "I thought that guy would never leave. Hey, did you sneak me in some O'Shaughnessy's, by chance? This hospital food is destroying me slowly."

Dick just blinks. What just happened? Tim just looks expectantly at him, with a hopeful smile on his face. "Tim?" Dick asks slowly. "Care to explain to for the class what's going on?"

Tim looks confused for a moment before his face lights up in understanding. "Oh. Ohhhh," he says. "About that. Sorry, Dick. I didn't mean--anyways, it's just that there's this therapist here and he's smuggling in some nasty drugs for some of the patients, and then blackmailing and extorting them. This guy I got to know--Aaron--got all mixed up with him, so I'm trying to catch him in action. It's just that he never preys on anyone who seems to have a good support system, so I had to, you know, make it seem like we were in a rough spot."

Tim is smiling at him guiltily now. Things click into place for Dick. It's like that time--it's like just after Tim's 16th birthday, when Tim asked him to fake fight with him for whoever he thought was watching him. It--well, Dick would have done a better job if he had known he was supposed to improv. The least Tim could have done was give him a clue.

But looking at him and the guilty expression, Dick doesn't have it in him to stay mad. After all, this is his little brother--and he's finally found him.

Dick lets out a small sigh. "Fair enough, Tim. I just--what are you even doing here? How did you get here?"

"So...if you're getting straight to the questions...I take it this means there's no fast food, then?" Is all Tim says. Dick shoots him a look. Tim holds his hands up in mock defeat. "Kidding. Kidding. Anyways, I ended up here because Tommy Elliot somehow managed to send some goons that found me over in France. They pretended they were from Bruce--made a bit of a public show that Bruce was all worried about my erratic behavior, that you had told him I had gone crazy and run away and needed help-"

"They said I said that?" Dick asks sharply, worried a bit now. He has working with Tommy Elliot to hide Bruce being gone, and Tim knew that. "You didn't believe them, did you Tim? I would never-"

"Course not," Tim says. "That was classic Tommy Elliot being Tommy Elliot, trying to sow discord. Anyways, I wasn't in a good position to have a big scene be made about it--it would've potentially screwed up some pretty big things, or exposed us all, and I had to make it seem like I was stuck in a place where I wasn't able to interfere with their plan--so we had really no choice but to go with them."

"We?"

"Oh, yea--we. Tam's here, too. And let me tell you she was not happy about both of us getting thrown into a mental hospital. She's still mad at me."

"Tam--Tam Fox? Lucius's daughter?" Tim nods. "What was she--you know what, never mind, you can tell me later. So what--you've just been here, then?"

"Yup," Tim says, popping his 'p'. "Jokes on them, though, because healthcare still uses faxes--and so does Babs, it's the most secure form of communication after all. I was able to get her everything important about Ra's' plan in time."

So that's how Babs found out. Probably also how she found out Tim was here.

So she could have told him more of the situation he was walking in to. But she didn't.

She's probably...still kind of mad at him, then.

That's not important right now, though. "So you've just been here, what? Pretending to be trapped?"

Tim nods. "Yea. I could probably have gotten out at any time, really, but there's a lot going on here that I couldn't just leave be, y'know. I got kind of busy." Clearly, with the drug dealing therapist. Tim shrugs. "And it hasn't been all bad. They do have a fun W&W group that meets on Wednesdays for game night. Danger Dan does a really good DM."

Danger...Dan. Dick shakes his head. "I was worried about you, you know. And you were right here playing with Danger Dan."

"Sorry," Tim does look a bit ashamed. "I did--I wanted to call, but I couldn't let them catch on. It sucked for sure. I wasn't--I didn't-"

"It's okay," Dick says. Tim looks relieved. They sit in a companionable silence for a moment before Dick lets out a sigh. It feels weird bringing this up to talk about while Tim's in a mental hospital off all places, but...he has to. Tim deserves to know. "I need to tell you. Tim--you were right. Bruce--Bruce is alive."

Tim just tilts his head to the side. "Well, yea," he says. "I mean, I knew that--know that. I've got a giant bag of artifacts buried in the Serenity Woods to prove it, too. Turns out places like this don't really allow ancient batarangs, yea? They consider it contraband. How'd you figure it out?"

Dick...doesn't really want to get into that. "I, uh," he says. "We found some evidence. At the manor." That's vague enough. What Tim doesn't know won't hurt him.

"Oh, Mordecai? Let me tell you, that's just the tip of the iceberg here, Dick," Tim says. "I can draw you a map, make sure you grab the bag before you go."

"I--of course," Dick takes a look at the time. Visiting hours are almost up. It flew by. Dick's disappointment matched by his relief that Tim's okay. He wants nothing more than to take Tim out of this place, bring him home.

But. Tim clearly knows what he's doing, has known what he's doing this whole time. He's all grown up now. It's not for Dick to interfere. "Tim? You're going to come home soon, right?" he asks.

Tim smiles. "Yea, soon," he says. "Between you and me, I think Tam might actually smother me in my sleep if I don't get us out of here after I'm done with this case."

Dick chuckles. "Well, we can't have that, can we. You'll be okay? Call if you need anything. Especially if you need to get into a big blowout of a fight, really sell the whole 'family thinks you're crazy' thing. I can mock fight with the best of them, as you well know."

"You're at the top of my list to call, Dick," Tim says with a smile. "Just--next time? Bring O'Shaughnessy's, or I'm not gonna pull my punches."

#dick and tim #shhhh don't think about timelines here shhhh

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thegettingbyp2 · 3 months

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Can you pretty please write a one shot about coryo using the prompt "You sent me a nude at work!!"?

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The sound of Coriolanus calling your name the second he got home had both excitement and dread pooling in your stomach. This was going to go one of two ways, dependent on Coriolanus’ mood and you were hoping that he was in a good mood.

You knew that you were pushing your luck when you sent the photos but you were just so board wandering around the mansion on your own that you decided to have a bit of fun and tease your husband. You’d started off by sending him a couple of risqué photos and when they went unanswered, you’d decided to push it a bit further. Laying in the centre of your shared bed, you were wearing Coriolanus’ old red Academy jacket and nothing else.

‘(Y/N),’ Coriolanus’ voice came from behind you, his voice dangerously calm. ‘I was calling for you.’

‘I know,’ you replied, trying to fight the smirk that was working its way onto your lips.

‘So, you decided to ignore me on purpose?’ he crouched down in front of where you were perched on the edge of the sofa and reached out to grip your jaw in his hand, forcing you to look at him. ‘What’s gotten into, hmm? First, you think it’d be a good idea to send me nudes at work and then you decide to completely ignore me when I come home. I think you need to be put back into your place, don’t you?’

Your breath stopped at his words and you found yourself just staring at him, taking in just how beautiful he was in front of you. He pulled you out of your thoughts with a sharp tap to your cheek. ‘Answer me.’

‘Yes,’ you replied instantly, clenching your thighs together in anticipation.

‘You know what’s going to happen now?’ he asked gently, softening his grip on your jaw and trailing the back of his hand against your cheek. Nodding in response you moved off of the sofa as Coriolanus sat down and made to lay across his lap on your front. A confused frown etched its way onto your face when you felt him grip your waist, halting your movements. ‘Not like that,’ he said, pulling you closer until you were straddling his waist, facing him. ‘You are the First Lady of Panem,’ he started, pulling your dress up to your waist, tutting at you when he realised that you weren’t wearing any panties, ‘so you have a certain image to maintain. You’re meant to be a loyal, dutiful, reserved wife, so we’re going to practice.’

‘Practice?’

Coriolanus grinned wickedly at you before leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your lips. ‘Spanking would be too obvious a punishment. I’m going to make you cum and I want you to act as if we are at one of our appearances. I’m going to make you cum and if I see a flicker of anything cross your face, I’ll stop. Do you understand?’

‘Yes,’ you replied nervously. Coriolanus moved your arms to wrap around his neck as his hands moved to your thighs, slowly trailing his fingers along the inside until he let one finger swipe across your pussy, causing a gasp to fall from your lips.

‘What did I just say?’ Coriolanus asked as he pulled his hand away from you.

‘I’m sorry,’ you said quietly. Coriolanus kept his eyes on you as he moved his hand back to your pussy, slipping one finger inside you as his thumb came to rest on your clit.

‘Why am I doing this?’ he asked, his thumb beginning to rub slow circles on your clit, making your thighs attempt to close only to be stopped by Coriolanus’ thighs spreading wider, keeping you open for him.

‘Because I failed to maintain my image of the First Lady of Panem by sending you nudes while you were at work,’ you replied, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice.

‘Good,’ he said, his eyes never leaving your face as he crooked a finger inside of you, the only response you gave was the slight hitch in your breath. ‘That’s better,’ he murmured, his eyes trailing down to your lips, his eyes hooded as he pushed his hips up against you. ‘And what is your image as the First Lady of Panem?’

‘To be by your side as a loyal and dutiful wife,’ you answered quickly, feeling your orgasm creeping up on you. Coriolanus smirked as he hooked his fingers in you once again.

‘Cum,’ he said, eyes trained on your face, looking for any kind of break in your calm expression. The only thing that gave away your orgasm was the short and quiet gasps that were coming from your lips. ‘That’s my girl,’ he crooned, gently removing his fingers from you and hooking a finger underneath your jaw, pressing a delicate kiss to your lips.

‘I’m sorry for disappointing you,’ you mumbled as you let yourself collapse against his chest, his arms coming to wrap around you and pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

‘You didn’t disappoint me, my love,’ he said and you buried yourself further into him, relishing in the rare moments where Coriolanus is as soft with you as he was being now. ‘It was just a pain having to hide an erection from everyone in my meeting.’

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes

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nhlclover · 2 months

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bruised | arber xhekaj

word count: 0.88k

summary: arber gets bruised from a fight during a game, leaving you frantic for answers and reassurance.

warnings: mentions of blood, fighting, semi nsfw toward the end?

notes: repurposed and old + deleted fic so if it’s familiar that’s why :)

You paced around the kitchen, your phone tight in your grip. Yours and Arber's text messages open on the screen, your four consecutive texts going unanswered. The TV was now playing SportsCenter, the Habs game having ended about an hour ago.

As per usual, you spent your evening after work watching your boyfriend's hockey game. However, instead of watching a productive game including garnering an assist or a shot blocked, you watched his night come to an end earlier after he was skated off the ice following a fight at the end of the second period

Nothing much had provoked the fight, the previous period and a half being rather tame. However, after a couple of less-than-favourable games from the team as well as his time on ice being reduced, Arber’s frustrations had hit a boiling point.

Arber had laid a couple of hits but after being knocked down next to the boards, Arber charged after his attacker, cross-checking him from behind. The two of them exchanged a couple of jabs, with Arber’s opponent getting in a few more than he did resulting in a rare defeat, before they were separated by the officials. As he was skating off, the camera gave you a good look at his split brow and bruised face, blood leaking down his face and dripping onto his jersey.

You found that you stopped paying attention right at that moment, your focus solely on the wellbeing of your boyfriend. You’d seen him get in fights before but not once had you seen him get in a fight that resulted in such damage to his face. You sent a text a few minutes after watching the altercation, expecting him to reply a little later. When you didn’t get a reply, you sent another text, hoping the first one just got lost in other notifications. Normally, Arber would send you a text right after he gets out of a game, letting you know he’d be home shortly.

Almost an hour and a half after the game had ended, you heard the front door open. The sound of shoes shuffling against the hardwood in the hall echoes through the house, accompanied by the sound of his bag slumping to the floor. He finally comes around the corner, meeting you in the kitchen with a nervous expression on his face.

“Are you okay?” You ask, approaching him and examining the wound in his brow that has begun to cause his eye to swell. It’s been properly stitched up and cleaned by the medical staff.

He lets out a sigh of relief, hands settling on your waist. “I’m fine, y/n.” He says.

“Are you sure?” You ask him again.

“Yes, one hundred percent they-”

“Then what the fuck is wrong with you?!” You shout, slapping his chest.

“Ow, what the fuck?” He asks, dropping his hands from your waist and instead protecting himself.

You groan loudly, stepping away from him and pacing around the kitchen. “Why the fuck did you fight that guy?”

He sighs, pulling his beanie off and running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know…” He huffs. “I was pissed, I’m not doing jack shit when I’m on the ice. I didn’t know what else to do, I had to make an impact somehow.”

“Well, you can't just lose your temper like this every time you get upset!” You shout. “You know how stupid that was? You could’ve gotten seriously hurt.”

“Y/n, I wouldn’t have gotten that badly hurt they wouldn’t-”

“I don’t give a shit, Arber!” You interrupt, your voice getting increasingly louder and your breath more ragged. “On top of that, you don’t even text me to say you’re okay!”

“Okay!” He stops you, coming over and wrapping his arms around you, pulling you in tight. He shushes you, attempting to soothe your ragged breaths. “I’m sorry. I should’ve texted you when I got out. It’s just… you know how stressful it's been… not putting up points and not getting any ice time. It's not helping me especially when I’m trying to stay up with the Habs.”

“I know,” You say softly, nodding against his chest. You stand in his arms, your temper coming down.

“I’m sorry, again.” He says.

“I know, it’s okay. I shouldn’t have been that upset.” You reply.

“No you had every right, I shouldn’t do stupid shit like that.” He says. You chuckle softly, leaning back and eyeing his wounds once more. You wince at them, knowing they’ll be much worse in the morning.

“I hope I didn’t piss you off too much,” Arber says. You give him a look and Arber can read it. However, Arber plays dumb. “What’s that look on your face?”

“You know. Don’t make me spell it out for you.” You say, running a hand through his hair.

“No, I don’t. I think the fight knocked out a few brain cells.” Arber said, feigning confusion.

You rolled your eyes, going up on your tip toes to bring your lips to his ear. “You know I want you.” You say in a whisper.

A smirk pulls on his lip. Arber bends down, picking you up, and throwing you over his shoulder. You squeal, feet kicking, as he walks down the hall to your bedroom.

#arber xhekaj #arber xhekaj x reader #arber xhekaj imagine #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey #montreal canadiens #hockey imagine #habs

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sparrowrye · 3 months

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Alastor x Fem! Reader {soulmates} Part 5

Synopsis: soulmate AU where you have the same mark on your body as your soulmate, and if your soulmate dies, you die too. Alastor needs to make sure that his soulmate is safe so he can continue his reign - whatever that takes.

Part 5: digging deeper

Part Pilot | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I stared at my reflection in the bathroom. I opened my mouth and ran my tongue, which was a little longer than usual, along my sharp teeth. The sharpest ones were my canines that slipped past my lips when resting.

I touched around the base of my horns. The skin was tight near the bottom and paler than the rest of my skin. My horns jutted up, curved down a bit, then back up to a point at the very end. I tried bending them but they were sturdy, even near the tip.

I clicked my claws together then on the counter. It felt strange to have something that felt like elongated nails. I poked my arm until I drew blood, noting how quick it took to do so. My toes also had claws. They weren't as long as my fingers but they were definitely sharper. The skin on my feet felt extremely tough, almost rubbery.

I turned off the light and sat on the cushions by the window. I rested my head on my arm and stared off into the ocean. For the first time in a long while, I tried to think back into my memories.

I was only able to get snippets, though. I could envision myself in small, specific scenes but I couldn't remember anything past my first rounds of fighting. What did my parents look like? Did they give me to the rings? Did someone kill them? Was I born in hell? How much magic did I have and what kind was it?

I had so many unanswered questions.

I met Husker for dinner again. I couldn't stop looking at my claws as I tried to go about normally. Using a fork was new; long nails made it surprisingly difficult. Husker tried not to laugh and I caught him smiling several times.

"Did you know?" I asked him.

"No. Alastor told me he thought you might be a demon but I was skeptical."

"Why?"

"Well it takes effort to have a human appearance yet you always had one when you were asleep or unconscious. Plus you only used Slight magic when we fought."

"So Alastor knew."

"It was more of a theory." The Radio Demon materialized at the end of the table. "No one had ever heard of a human and demon being soulmates." My eyes fell to my plate. I hated looking at him and I hated hearing the word soulmates. "Once you've finished we'll head back to Rosie's."

"Tonight?"

"Yes, tonight.” He almost sounded annoyed. “She wants to unravel your curse as quickly as possible. She said something about it putting a strain on your mind." He touched a pointed claw to his lips. "I'm sure it's nothing."

Husker rolled his eyes and took a gulp of his drink. I offered to help clean the dishes but he refused. Alastor wrapped an arm around my shoulders and practically dragged me outside. I peeled his hand off and walked up to the scorched symbol on the ground. It didn't look like anything I recognized but it was always there.

He pulled me against him by my waist and stuck his cane into the ground. The ground gave way and I held my hair to my neck. We teleported to a different location this time and I soon discovered it was behind Rosie's store. The quiet town had all their indoor lights and radios turned on.

Alastor knocked twice on the glass door before it opened for him. We walked right into the same meeting room as before. Rosie was setting down a hot teapot.

"Welcome back dearies," she curtsied. "Come in come in. I just took this off the stove. You'll love it."

"I have a matter to attend to but I'm sure you'll take good care of my darling," Alastor said. My darling?

"Oh of course. Go off and do your man's work. Us ladies will get to know each other better." She hooked her arm around mine and lead me to the chair again. "I'm sure you've got lots of burning questions." This time I accepted the warm tea. "But I have to warn you sweetheart. This time, when we go back into your memories, it's going to be a lot more dangerous."

"Dangerous how?"

"If you get too wrapped up in the emotions and feelings of your memories, you can get stuck there."

"Stuck? In my own head?"

"I'm afraid so," she sipped on her tea, "When I feel you starting to fall down that rabbit hole, I'll touch your leg to let you know. When you feel me touch you, I need you to reel your emotions back in. Do you think you can do that? If not, there's no shame in waiting for tomorrow.”

"No," I said quickly, "I'll be okay. I can do this."

"I believe you. Now. Let's begin."

She sat beside me on the stool and took my hands in hers. I stared down at my black claws as she asked me to go back in time. I closed my eyes and skipped through my teenage-hood and into my early childhood. I tried to push away the sinking sadness of my first friend's death.

"What did your first master look like?" Rosie asked.

"I know he had white hair. Long, white hair. He always had a scowl on his face and he dragged me around."

"What about your very first fight?"

"I was...I was against another kid. Another girl. She had short brown hair and looked...inhuman."

"Inhuman, how?"

"She...her eyes...they were red and...she just looked insane. Her hair was all matted and she was down on all fours. She was drooling a lot too. I remember she...she ran after me and started clawing and biting my arms. She went for my face and I shoved her off. She chased me in circles around the ring. I can still hear all the men cheering above. They were laughing."

"What did you do?"

"I uh...I grew tired and she eventually caught up to me. She grabbed my foot then went for my face. I don't remember much but I...I remember kicking her off then kicking her head. It bounced off the walls and then she didn't get up after that."

"When did you start to learn how to use magic?"

I paused for a moment. “I…I had a master before him? He…he was the one who taught me. Every so often he would come back during the day and take me into the ring. He showed me how to use it. First it was with wind. He told me to throw sand and dirt in my opponents' faces."

"What else did he teach you?"

"He taught me...how to use my sweat as a weapon...how to pull apart the earth so their foot would get stuck or so that they would trip...he taught me a lot."

"Did you warm up to him?"

"When he was teaching me I was happy. I loved learning how to use my magic. And he praised me all the time when I did well. Eventually he stopped being rough with me. It felt like...like he cared about me."

"But?"

"But..." I felt my heart sink with sadness. "But...he...gave me up...to someone not nice."

"Do you know why?"

"Yeah...he was...apparently just someone who trained children in basic magic then...then sold them off to the highest bidder. I was...I was so angry at him...I thought I was going to make him proud and live to be set free but...but I was nothing to him."

"Very good. Now, what can you tell me about when you first met him? When you first saw his white hair?"

I paused. "I remember...I remember looking up at him. He was such a tall man. I was holding someone's hand but I can't...I can't see their face."

"It's okay, don't push it. Tell me about the hand you're holding. What does it feel like?"

"Soft. But...tough? It's definitely tight."

"Good what about-"

"No. Wait...there was another man with white hair. But his...his was shorter."

"Tell me about him. Where were you?"

"I was...I was in a cage. I was...with someone. I remember seeing him come to the cage often. I was...the person I'm with would always get tense when he did. Why can't I see this person's face?"

"It's okay. Take your time. Tell me what this person is wearing."

"A short sleeve. Her skin is...covered in scars and bruises. She's...she's always stroking my hair."

"What else does she do?"

"She...she hums a lot. There's a small radio in the corner and she hums to it a lot. And...I can feel it in her chest when does. She rocks me back and forth until I fall asleep." I suddenly grew very sad and angry. My hands tightened and my hair on the back of my neck stood up.

"What is it, doll? What's happening?"

"He's...the man...he's wearing a white suite...exactly the color of his hair...and he's yelling with her. They're fighting. There's yelling. He hits her. She's arguing back but not fighting. Why won't she fight?"

"Stay with me dear." She touched my lap. I tried to lower my tense shoulders but it was hard.

"He picked me up and...he closed the door on her. She's screaming. Why is she screaming? Why is he taking me away from her? I can't...I can't reach her. I don't...where is he taking me? I don't want to leave her."

"Enough sweetheart, come back. Come out of the memory." She touched my shoulder this time. "Come back to my store. Come back to this world. It's all just a memory."

"I can't stop crying. Why...is that my mother?"

"Sweetheart, you need to come back. You're going in too deep. Stop the emotions."

"But...I want to see her."

"We'll look next time. We can come back next time but you need to take a break. Come out of the memory. Come back to the store. Blink twice and look up."

I stared at the figure reaching out to me through the bars. I was so close. I just wanted to touch her hand one more time. But it was just a memory. She wasn't really there. She might not even be alive at all.

I blinked twice and looked up to meet Rosie's dark eyes. She let out a huge sigh and patted me on the head. "That was a little too close for comfort."

I felt something brush against my leg. I looked down to see a black tail that ran all the way to my back. I stood up and spun around in an effort to look at it. I felt something pulling on my back and realized I had a pair of black wings to go with it.

"What the..." The black on my hands had stretched all the way down to my elbow now. I found the closest mirror and noticed a pair of long ears sticking up from my human ones. Was I a type of dragon?

"I see you're making lots of progress." Alastor's staticky voice cut through the silence.

"Quite a lot, actually," Rosie answered. "I must say, you sure got lucky, Alastor. She looks like she's got a lot hidden away in her."

"Which is why you're the perfect person to help pull it all into the light."

"How do I hide them?" I asked Rosie, still turning in circles to look at myself.

"Oh, uh..." she tapped her sharp finger to her sharp teeth.

"Picture them receding into your back," Alastor answered. I grimaced at the thought of listening to him but gave it a try. The tail shivered but did nothing.

"I'm sure it'll take getting used to," Rosie reassured me. "But I'm sure you're absolutely exhausted. You should go home and get some rest. We can figure out more later."

"Good idea," Alastor agreed. "Come along, darling." He put his hand on my back but I pushed it off. I thanked Rosie and walked out of her store, my wings hitting the edges on the way out.

"So, what did you learn?" he asked as he shut the door.

"What's it to you?"

"Just curious is all."

"You can stay that way," I mumbled. He grabbed my waist and sent us back to the cliff side manor. As soon as my feet touched solid ground, I pushed his hand off and walked inside. My wings hit anything and everything, frustrating me even more.

"Whoah, ain't you something," Husker commented from the sitting room. I didn't respond, clambering up to my room and locking the door behind me. My legs buckled and I collapsed onto the floor. I sobbed into my arms as the new memories replayed themselves in my mind.

Who am I?

#hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin husk #soulmate au #soulmates #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader

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ginnsbaker · 1 year

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In Losing Grip On Sinking Ships (3/?)

Chapter summary: Wanda finds you again after months of estrangement.

Chapter word count: 5.5k

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader, Yelena Belova x Fem!Reader

Chapter Warnings: None

Author’s Note: Decided to post this early in celebration of Love & Death's final episode.

AO3 | Masterlist

Next Chapter: Four

Three

At two in the morning, Wanda’s insomnia is at its worst.

Sleep doesn’t come despite doubling her usual dosage of sleeping pills, and she considers taking another, just so she can stop thinking about what Pietro said–about you moving on with someone new. Because despite her confidence in your love for her, her faith is waning with each passing day that you continue to leave her messages seen and her calls unanswered.

She wonders how love–a resilient but tainted one–can survive in the dark. If it can survive at all.

Wanda remembers reading somewhere on the internet that the human epidermis continually makes new cells every second, so that in just 30 days, one’s skin is entirely new. In months of being apart, it meant that there’s no longer an inch of her that has ever touched you. All that remains of her in you are memories. And what a fragile thing they are, when people are always forgetting.

Wanda doesn’t want to be forgotten. Least of all by you.

She knows it’s within your rights to fall in love again, and she’s adamant for it to be with her. Her stubborn nature makes her cling to your wedding vow: that if you don’t end up with her, then you end up with no one. Maybe she’s delirious to still believe that you’d fulfill those promises, especially with how hard it is to reconcile those promises with dead silence.

Nevertheless, Wanda tries. She continues to send you mundane messages like a restaurant discovery or what she had for lunch, or a comment on the weather, telling you how nice it’d be to go outside for a walk.

Tonight, she sends you a text about Sparky’s visit to the vet, hoping it provokes a reaction from you. It immediately gets read. Wanda’s breath hitches when she sees three dots appear right after her message. However, they soon disappear, leaving Wanda to stare at another unanswered text.

Tomorrow, then. And if not, the day after. Wanda won’t let you forget about her.

Agatha helps her with the finishing touches on her café, which happens to be unsold paintings donated by her colleagues from the gallery itself that Agatha manages. She’s informed Wanda that she’s considering early retirement to find something else to do, and when Wanda mentioned that she’s opening up a business, Agatha suggested she’d volunteer to help out on weekends in exchange for free coffee and dessert any day of the week. Wanda didn’t think twice to accept the proposal, and they shook on it.

“You have an eye for design, Wanda. You can make a career out of it once your cafe takes off and can hire someone to manage instead of doing it all by yourself.” Agatha says, dusting the final frame they hanged on the wall.

“Thanks. It’s just not me though. I had a lot of help from friends in NYU.” Wanda says, going behind the counter to make sure everything’s set for the big day, two days from now.

“Are you worried about the opening?” Agatha asks.

“A bit, yes.” Wanda admits with a sigh.

“Don’t be. Your pastries alone will keep this adorable thing afloat.” Agatha assures her, admiring the aforementioned pastries currently cooking in the oven.

Wanda smiles graciously, a little unsure if she’d take it as a compliment. With her former boss, it’s hard to tell sometimes. Agatha has the tendency to toe the line between maternal and condescending.

“That’s what I keep telling her.” Pietro, who Wanda didn’t notice entering the shop just now, chimes in. Her brother taps Agatha on the shoulder, making the older woman turn her head in an unnecessarily coquettish manner. Wanda lifts an eyebrow as she observes the two.

“I don’t believe we’ve met.” Pietro says, before running a hand through his hair and letting his textured, angular fringe fall dramatically back over his bleached eyebrows. “I’m Pietro, Wanda’s twin.”

“It’s nice to meet you, dear. I’ve heard a lot about you.” Agatha says evenly with a smile, turning around to face him fully.

Pietro stands unnecessarily closer to her and says, “Believe me, the pleasure is all mine.”

Wanda’s never heard Agatha giggle like a schoolgirl, and shoots him a murderous look. Her oblivious brother merely carries on staring at Agatha like he could see through her clothes.

Squeezing into the narrow space between the two, she starts pushing her brother away from his prey. She can already sense him scheming, and she’s not going to let him potentially ward off the free help she’s gonna get on weekends.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Wanda hisses at him under her breath as soon as she’s positive Agatha’s no longer within earshot.

He raises his hands in front of him in defense. “I was being friendly.”

“No, you weren’t. You were literally eyefucking my ex-boss back there.”

Pietro shrugs. “Maybe she was eyefucking me.”

“I swear, you’re going to–”

“Excuse me?” Agatha interrupts, and they both whip their head towards her–Wanda with a stricken look, and Pietro with a cheshire grin. Agatha can’t help but think how they’re both very attractive.

She addresses Wanda first. “I’m sorry but I have to go. Call me if you need anything, sweetie.”

“Thanks again, Agatha.” Wanda says.

And then she turns to Pietro and winks at him. “I’ll see you around, handsome.”

“Oh, you will.” Pietro answers in a sultry voice that has Wanda harshly digging her nails into his forearm.

He only reacts to the pain after Agatha stepped outside. “Ow! Let go of me!”

“She’s off limits you pig.” Wanda chastises, landing some weak strikes on his arm.

“Fine!” Pietro throws his hands up in surrender.

Wanda lets him go with a triumphant smile. “What are you doing here anyway? I thought I’d see you on Monday.” she says.

“My friend invited me to this club tonight, and I want you to come with.” Pietro says.

“I’m not really in the mood to party.”

“You really have changed since you’ve been married to Y/N.”

“Thanks.” Wanda says curtly, and it’s not even sarcastic. If there were changes about her that were of your influence, then they could only mean the good kind. Wanda has long ago learned that she likes herself best when she’s with you.

“Don’t you at least feel like celebrating this?” Pietro gestures at the tiny confines of the cafe.

“My idea of celebration is just steaks and wine,” she replies, shrugging her shoulders. “Lots of wine.”

“Wands, you can’t keep punishing yourself. You deserve to have a good time once in a while.”

Wanda scoffs. “Punishing myself? Believe me, I haven’t started.”

“Wanda, come on,” Pietro pleads earnestly. “The thing is, I’m planning to bump into this real estate dude, and having my sister to make me look like a decent guy is going to help my chances in my investment pitch, okay?”

Wanda considers the new information. “Why didn’t you start with that in the first place?”

“Because I didn’t want to flat-out ask my heartbroken sister for help. Cause I know you’re… You’re half the person you used to be. You’re not whole, and here I am, needing your help when there’s nothing I can do to help you back.”

It’s the most vulnerable she’s seen her brother, and it makes Wanda want to gather him in his arms and be children again.

“Piet..”

Pietro assumes back a sturdy posture. “I’m sorry. I just need you. But if–”

“I’ll be there. Just text me where and what time you need me.” Wanda assures him.

“I’ll owe you one, sis.”

“Try twenty.”

Pietro deserts her as soon as she serves her purpose, and he gets invited to the VIP floor of his prospective investor. Wanda doesn’t hold it against him, seeing how important this deal is to him. Besides, thirty minutes of blaring techno (it’s a crime to call it music, Wanda muses) and seizure-inducing lights are too much for Wanda to bear. She just happens to have four drinks in front of her (bought by different strangers), and there’s just no way she can let perfectly crafted Negronis go to waste. Really, she’s left with no choice but to stay and savor her prized cocktails.

At least two men–and one woman–have taken up the courage to approach her by the bar, and Wanda only has to show them the ring she still wears on her left hand for them to leave her alone with a polite apology.

On her own (and despite you being unaware of it) she wants the world to know she’s still yours.

Heaving a deep sigh, Wanda finishes her drink. One down, three to go. She’s already swimming in a pleasant buzz, and when her eyes drift to the center of the dance floor, she sees the last person she thought of seeing tonight.

It’s true what they say about experiencing everything around you slowing down to a stop when your life flashes through your eyes. It’s closest to how she’d describe seeing you in the flesh after a long stretch of only seeing you in her dreams. For a split second, she thinks she might be mistaken, but it’s definitely you when you start doing that dorky mannequin move that never fails to send her into fits of laughter. And that’s exactly what Wanda does; she half-laughs and half-sobs into her drink as you stiffly move your limbs, wearing a blissful smile of your own.

You seem…okay. Happy, even. Against her will, a deep sense of insecurity settles heavily on her chest.

And then, as if on cue, a blonde girl mirrors your dance moves, stepping into your space too close for Wanda’s liking. She looks much younger than you and Wanda are, and she recognizes the captivated look on her face. It’s the same look Wanda is giving you right now, the same look you used to give her everyday for more than ten years. Wanda helplessly watches you take her hand and spin her around goofily. And when the girl stops and loses her balance, she leans on your side for support. You let her, putting an arm around her shoulder as both of you continue to laugh at the silliness of it all.

Wanda feels her heart fall and crash into pieces. And the guilt of falling apart at seeing you happy like you deserve to be, comes to her in rolling waves.

She downs the rest of her drink–all three of them–and then weaves through the crowded club, bumping against sweaty bodies to find her way out.

Wanda ends up waiting for you from across the street. She wraps her jacket tighter around her body and fights off the cold by blowing her breath into her hands and rubbing them together. It does little to keep her warm, but she’s too enthralled to see your face again to care. She couldn’t simply walk away and wait for another opportunity like this to come.

Eventually–after nearly two hours of waiting–you come out of the building. You’re not accompanied by anyone, and you’re peering down at your phone. In the distance, she can clearly see how unfocused your movements are, which makes her wonder why you’re all by yourself.

She’s about to cross the empty street, when you unexpectedly look up and Wanda’s eyes lock with yours.

Her eyes glisten at the sight of you: somber eyes and flushed cheeks and the beginnings of a dazed smile at the corner of your lips. You were always a doe when there’s alcohol in your system, and Wanda could take advantage of that.

She could. But she won’t, even as you seem transfixed as she is.

Wanda tests the waters by taking a small step in your direction. You don’t move an inch from where you’re standing, but Wanda still holds her breath with each step. She keeps her eyes trained on your figure in case this is a hallucination–in case this is all just a result of standing for hours in the cold. But you gaze back at her, equally awestruck, and she thinks perhaps you’re also figuring out the same thing: if all of this is real.

Wanda takes another careful step while you shift your weight, working out the best way to keep your balance. And then another, until you’re within reach and she can hear your shallow breaths, can smell your scent mixed with your favorite perfume, can see your baby hairs sticking to your forehead. Until she can look into those eyes that always held kindness she doesn’t deserve.

Until finally, she’s standing right in front of you.

It’s been too long, the words keep repeating itself in her head.

Without thinking, Wanda stretches out her arm to cup your face, but–despite your semi-drunken state–you backpedal on instinct. Dispirited, she drops her hand to her side and chews on her lower lip to stop it from trembling. You must have sensed her dismay, because you force a smile, before her name falls from your lips.

“Wanda.”

There's no doubt that you can break her if you want to just by saying her name.

“Y/N,” she whispers your name back, greedily drinking you in an openly brazen manner.

“H-Hi…”

“You… uh,” you fumble with your sentence, trying to come up with something to say, before settling on what you really just wanted to know. “What are you doing here?”

Wanda actually considers lying, until she remembers that it’s what destroyed everything in the first place.

“I was at the same bar and I saw you. I thought about going home, but I couldn’t leave knowing you were just there.” she says.

“Oh,” is all you manage to reply as you assess how you feel about your ex-wife waiting for you outside and possibly catching a cold in the process. Inclined to blame it on the alcohol later, you don’t think you hate the idea that she stood there for hours just to talk to you. It’s so disparate from the time when you two were together, and you were often the one to wait.

But the truth is, it mostly just hurts. After all this time, it’s the same wound that just refuses to heal. Only now there’s more guilt on your part for ignoring her for months even though you know you shouldn’t feel bad for trying to move on the way you have to.

“It’s good to see you.” Wanda says after a beat. “I’ve missed y–”

Suddenly, your head is filled with images going down on a stranger at the gym. You shake your head harshly in a feeble attempt to shake off the memory.

Wanda is quick to assume that you don’t want to hear any semblance of how much she aches for you.

“I don’t feel–”

You feel violently sick, but you fail to say that out loud because the next second, you hear Wanda shriek in shock and you find yourself bent over your stomach, emptying its contents next to her stilettos. Wanda hovers above you as she gently pulls back your hair on one hand and rubs soothing circles on your back with the other.

Your throat burns and you grimace as you stagger back on your feet.

“Wanda, I’m so–”

“Shhh… you need to sober up,” Wanda explains softly. You don’t know you’ve been leaning onto her for support until you saw her left hand wrapped tightly around your arm.

Her left hand, that is anything but bare.

“Why are you still wearing it?” The question abruptly falls out of your mouth, losing the ability to filter the thoughts that you would rather stay in your head if you weren’t in such an inebriated state.

Wanda tenses up at the question, surprised that you still noticed.

“You know why.” she mumbles, struggling to keep you upright. She doesn’t say more, just silently directs you to the pavement where you both sit next to each other.

“Your hair. It’s too brown.” you speak in a slow drawl, still having enough cognitive function to change the topic. Wanda grimaces at the comment, despising her new hairdo more than usual.

For a while you and Wanda just sit there, basking in awkward silence.

“I need to call an Uber but my phone is dead.” you whisper into your knees, talking to no one in particular. You look and sound so small, so far from when you were dancing earlier. Wanda tries not to think that maybe she’s the reason for it. She worries at her lip, contemplating if she should call a ride for you. But with your current state, she’d be on the edge all night wondering if you got home safe. And knowing you probably won’t update her, she’s probably going to lose her mind over it.

Rising to her feet, Wanda makes a decision and offers a hand for you to take.

“Hey. I’ve got an idea.”

Wanda watches you dip a fry into a plain sundae and pop it into your mouth. Her cheeks redden a little when you moan in appreciation, eyes closed as if you were sampling a gourmet dish. She’d never understand your weird taste for putting together two of the things that should never be put together.

“Feel better?” she asks, disinterestedly picking at her nuggets.

“Much.” you say, licking your thumb with gusto. At this point, Wanda makes the right decision to look away before her thoughts become anything but innocent. You’re starting to recover from your intoxication, and she’s careful not to make you feel the slightest discomfort.

“How’s Sparky?” you ask all of a sudden, remembering Wanda’s text the other night about a visit to the vet.

Wanda takes a sip of her coffee, then says, “Something about a low platelet count. They just prescribed him some meds. He’s doing better, I think.”

“That’s good to hear.” you say.

Both of you fall back into another period of quiet.

Wanda’s head is sifting through the many topics that she had mentally filed in advance for this moment, but all she wants is to ask about you and your dance partner. The way she fell into you and the way you caught her with ease wasn’t at all friendly. The girl was obviously smitten, and Wanda can’t blame her. She can’t blame anyone but herself.

She peeks at you through her lashes, taking in your solemn expression as you suck on the plastic spoon.

Are you dating her?

Have you already slept together?

Has she been replaced?

Instead, Wanda says, “He misses you though”, because she couldn’t risk saying the wrong thing.

“I miss him too.” you say, and Wanda detects a hint of softness in your tone for the first time tonight.

It’s pathetic how she’s internally begging for you to say the same thing about her.

(How she’s envious of her own dog for it.)

“You should see him some time.” Wanda says, and at the skeptical look in your eye, she adds, “I don’t mean you visit him at my place. I can bring him to you. Maybe he can stay at yours for a weekend.”

You nod like you understand what she’s trying to do– what information she’s trying to get out of you. She expects you to dismiss the idea, but you surprise her by saying, “That can be arranged.”

“Great! We’ll–”

“We’ll figure it out.”

“Right.”

The stillness and lack of words return for the third time. Not that Wanda is counting. But it doesn’t last as long as the other two, when you surprise her again by offering her what’s left of your sundae. “Want some?”

Wanda smiles at the gesture and scoops some with her own spoon. She misses the little things, like sharing food and killing time in a place as mundane as Mcdonald’s.

“Are you still using your old number?” Wanda asks, a subtle tremor in her voice.

You wince, aware of what she’s actually asking. You let it slip that your old number is active when you asked about Sparky.

“Not as much as my current one.”

“Oh, that explains it.”

Something about her reply rubs you off the wrong way.

“Explain what?”

Wanda is taken aback by your snippy tone. She used to be able to read you so easily, and now she can’t pinpoint exactly what set you off.

“What I mean is,” Wanda starts as gently as she could. “I’ve been trying to reach you for months. And you weren’t entertaining any of my attempts to communicate.”

“Well. Imagine that.”

“Did I say something wrong?” Wanda asks, voice thick with unshed tears. “Whatever it is, I’m sorry.”

You heave a sigh, and Wanda frowns at that. In such a short time, she’s managed to exasperate you without even trying.

You pause to gather your thoughts, and then regard her with an apologetic look.

“Sorry…For being a bitch to you, not for avoiding you.” you say.

Wanda wipes a single tear that has escaped her eye with a finger. “You did say goodbye. I’m just too delusional to accept it.”

“You’re not.”

Wanda lets out a hollow chuckle in response.

“I’m delusional for thinking that I can erase you if I pretend long enough you don’t exist.” you say.

She knows it’s what you’ve been doing, but it still hurts for you to lay it out in the open.

“Did it work?” she asks, picking at the skin around her nail until it bleeds.

“No,” you answer truthfully. You don’t elaborate on it and give her the satisfaction of knowing that you’re still miserable without her.

For Wanda, those two letters give her first, real taste of hope since the night you confronted her about Vision. She knows better than to jump at the earliest sign that things may start turning around, but she couldn’t help herself from speaking the words that are most important for you to hear.

“I love you,” she feels every syllable of them in her tongue, and she cries further when you shake your head.

“We can think we’re in love, when we’re really just in pain.” you say to her with a mournful smile.

“I don’t believe that. Sometimes they go together, because it’s just how it is. Love’s supposed to hurt.”

“I don’t want to talk about this with you. This is something we have to resolve individually, exclusive of each other.”

A look of resignation registers on Wanda’s face. It’s the most meaningful conversation you’ve had since separating, and she’ll willingly let go of the things you don’t want to discuss any further.

“What happens now?” she asks, placing the decision in your hands once again.

“I don’t know,” you say more with your shoulders than anything else. You steer the topic away from Wanda’s persevering feelings for you, and continue with, “I just want to enjoy this meal with… a friend.”

Wanda’s breath hitches at the apparent rejection.

“You want us to be friends?”

“Honestly, I don’t know yet.”

“Friends....” Wanda trails off. It’s better than nothing, right? Being friends again is a good start. Friends fall in love all the time, don't they?

“I can do ‘friends’.” she says with newfound determination.

“I need to think about it.” you say because in spite of everything, you’re never one to make promises you can’t keep.

Wanda nods meekly. You stare at each other for a few moments, having reached an impasse, before Wanda remembers a major detail in her life she hasn’t shared with you over a text.

“I have news. I’m opening a café in Queens on Monday. It’s, uh, where most of the alimony went.”

Your face considerably brightens, as if the past several minutes didn’t happen at all. Wanda falls in love with you just a little harder at your organic reaction to her accomplishment.

“That’s amazing, Wanda. Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” she says and blushes at the way you look so proud of her.

“Wanda Maximoff, Cafe Owner.” you state her new title wistfully. “You make the best coffee though, so I’m not surprised by that…”

Wanda is no longer listening as a sense of déjà vu creeps underneath her skin, recalling how you had said something similar when she accepted a teaching position at Westview Institute.

Wanda Maximoff, Professor.

And when she got that job at the gallery.

Wanda Maximoff, Art Curator.

And after sharing your first kiss as wife and wife.

Wanda Maximoff, my wife.

Wanda comes to, just before you’re done speaking.

“…Is there anything you can’t do?” you say, good-naturedly.

Love you properly. Wanda broods over her regrets.

She gathers all her verve, only to come up with a paper-thin smile. “You forget I’m a terrible dancer.”

You laugh. “Oh, yeah, that.”

“And I’m also terrible at self-control because,” Wanda admits before she loses the courage for what she’s about to say next. “Because I want to invite you to come to my opening.”

The laughter dies in your throat but the corner of your lips stay upturned.

“I haven’t even gotten my head around ‘friends’ yet.” you remind her softly. “But… I’ll make sure to drop by.”

Wanda exhales in relief. At least she knows when she’ll get to see you again.

“Now, about that Uber?” you say.

“I got it.”

Today’s forecast promised clear, blue skies–and yet, the feeling of dread wouldn’t leave Wanda.

She’s never been a fan of boats (and all sorts of transportation for bodies of water), but she couldn’t come up with any other meeting spot where she wouldn’t accidentally run into you. It’s ironic because for weeks, she’s scoured the places you’d normally be for a chance encounter.

Not this time.

Not when she’s with this person.

Wanda boarded the ferry from Astoria, and it made a quick stop in Roosevelt where Vision was waiting to board the same vessel.

“Thanks for meeting me.” he says as he approaches Wanda who’s standing in the rear viewing deck. The amount of people onboard and the noises of the drafty wind should give them both enough privacy. Wanda doesn’t look up to acknowledge him. She merely continues to observe how the water churns and foams as the ferry picks up speed to leave its dock.

“Threatening to put Y/N in jail if I don’t, didn’t exactly leave me a choice.” Wanda says after a long time.

“You didn’t leave me a choice either. It’s the only way you’d see me,” he argues, and not for the first time, Wanda sees him for what he really is; a mere school boy whom she dragged into her bed, and indirectly scarred for life. “Plus, you know I wouldn’t do that to her. Not because she doesn’t deserve it, but because I made a promise to you.”

Wanda finally forces herself to look at him. His appearance isn’t that of a healthy person. His gaunt cheeks clearly signifies how much weight he’s lost. There’s an ugly scar that runs from the left side of where his hairline starts, all the way down to his nape. And because of the wound, his previously vibrant blonde is all gone, leaving a dull, sandy color of a shaved head.

“What do you want, Vision?” Wanda whispers, feeling more sorry for him than anything.

“You.” Vision states obviously. “I know you’re no longer married.”

“I told you it’s over,” Wanda says mutely. “Back when I was still married. Nothing has changed.”

“When this thing between us started, you knew the worst that could happen. You took the risk. That can’t be for nothing.” Vision’s impassioned plea makes her want to throw up. Wanda wants to deny each of his points, but she’d only be fooling herself.

She did know that there’s a chance you’d discover the affair on your own, and yet she did it anyway. And that’s something she’ll never forgive herself for.

Wanda studies Vision for a moment. She can’t fathom how she ever made the mistake of using him to fill a gap that she couldn’t put a name to–a gap that is deeper and larger in the aftermath of her extramarital affair.

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am for doing this to you. I’m the worst thing to happen to you and Y/N. I’m sorry for this,” Wanda allows herself to lightly trace the wound on his head as a gesture of sympathy. “Don’t blame her, please. I put her through unimaginable pain for her to have done this.”

Wanda allows him to remove her hand from his face and clasps them in his. It’s the one last thing she can do for him.

“You’re so beautiful.” Vision murmurs, trying to keep his emotions at bay. “I don’t mind having my skull smashed a thousand times if it means I could have you all over again.”

Wanda gasps and promptly backs away, effectively freeing her hand from Vision’s hold.

“Don’t say that. You could’ve died!”

Vision smirks and Wanda sees a flash of arrogance he held when he was still her student.

“It’s not so different from what you’re doing to me right now.” he says, and Wanda resists the urge to purse her lips.

“You don’t want me, Vision. You’re young and you have so much to offer–”

“–so much potential, so much capable of great things. Yes, Wanda, I know because you made me see it. You believed in me when no one else would. You saved me from being… worthless.” Vision slides down to the deck, leaning against the railing. He groans in pain, massaging his temples, as if rubbing it hard enough would make all of his problems go away.

Wanda crouches beside him, and then says, “I didn’t save you. I used you. And for that, I’m sorry.”

Vision keeps his eyes closed in an effort to avoid the tears threatening to spill. “Are you… are you back together?”

“No.”

A flicker of hope flashes in his eyes. It glows brighter than the sun as he asks, “Did you ever love me?”

Wanda dares to meet his gaze, and there’s no hesitation in the way she says, “No.”

Vision swallows hard and firms his jaw; a showcase of blind resolution that Wanda doesn’t know how to extinguish.

“I don’t believe you.”

Wanda says nothing. She merely stands up and puts more distance between them.

“You don’t fuck someone like you’ve fucked me and not have feelings.” Vision insists, clinging to the memories of intimately knowing the woman in front of him.

It’s then that Wanda loses her patience.

“You’re a kid,” Wanda snaps, her fingers tightening around the metal rod she’s holding onto. “People lie all the time: with their words, their actions, their bodies. You’re naive to assume you know anything just because you had the best fuck of your life.”

Vision is drawing heavy breaths the second she’s done speaking, as if the weight of Wanda’s words were enough to sink him to the bottom of the sea, desperate for air. Wanda, on the other hand, is equally shocked and simultaneously disgusted at her cruelty towards someone who’s begging for love–begging like she is for yours. What she did to you warranted a punishment that’s ten times greater than he had gotten, and yet you never spoke ill of her, never tried to hurt her as sharply as she did Vision.

Vision–this charming, brilliant, handsome young man who didn’t do anything wrong but succumbed to his boyish desires. Who she just maimed with her words.

The ferry arrives in Long Island. People start gathering their belongings before they head towards the exit. Wanda glances at her wristwatch. She’s late for her first staff session with Agatha.

“Vis,” Wanda croaks. “I wish I could give you what you want, but I can’t. I just can’t, okay? She’s everything to me.”

Vision is quiet, gazing at the sea with a faraway expression.

“It’s more than presumptuous of me to ask you this, but I’m going to ask anyway: forgive Y/N. Please don’t come after her for what happened. I’ll… I’ll pay for the damages.”

Vision lets out a humorless laugh, and then, without looking at her, says, “Just go, Ms. Maximoff.”

Monday

It’s nine-thirty in the evening, and Wanda ushers out the last of the customers to grace her opening day.

You didn’t show up.

“Thank you so much, please come again!” she brightly exclaims with just a hint of tiredness from being all over the place for hours. It wasn’t a blockbuster where the lines would reach the next block, but it didn’t fall flat either. Her pastries were all sold out, and she hadn’t expected the need to place orders to her suppliers so soon.

For all that, as she flips the door sign from ‘Hi, We’re Open’ to ‘Sorry, We’re Closed’, the rush of today’s triumphs also leaves her.

And then she sits alone in one of the barstools facing the window and patiently waits.

The gap widens some more.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #ifiss 2 #ilgoss #wanda maximoff #marvel #unbetad #yelena belova #yelena belova x reader #my writing #my fic #angst

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thedeviltohisangel · 11 days

Note

omg maybe some soft angst bcs evelyn overworks herself and callum is so worried

For A Fortnight There We Were:

A LITTLE ONE SHOT SINCE YOU ALL SEEM FERAL FOR THEM AND I LOVE IT AND ENCOURAGE IT

tw: mentions of drug use/addiction

"Hi everyone, I'm Evelyn Shaw, and I'm so happy to finally be introducing you to the new Dior Addict Lip Glow Oil." She held the tube to her lips and pressed a cheeky kiss to the side. "It's infused with cherry oil which nourishes my lips after long days on set and even longer nights on the romantic streets of Paris."

"Cut! Let's reset and run again." Evelyn yawned as the camera turned off then looked up as her makeup artist approached with an eye pencil.

"Do I look as shitty as I feel?" Now in London, she had been in Paris this morning, finishing fittings for fashion week, The Hague three days ago for an engagement on behalf of the United Nations Women's Conference and she was due back on set for House of the Dragon by the end of the week.

"No. You look glossy and juicy," Nicole teased.

"Let me get some spray on the fly aways." Ev closed her eyes as her hair stylist spritzed a toothbrush and brushed it over her hair.

"Have we heard anything from Callum yet?" She was headed straight to a meet and greet at the Dior store in Mayfair after this before she had just enough time to change for the launch dinner she was hosting as the newly minted Global Ambassador for Dior Beauty.

"Mark was on the phone finalizing your filming schedule for next week so it didn't conflict with your brother's graduation so I'll flag him when he gets back," Nicole offered.

She hadn't seen Callum in almost a week. There were unanswered texts and calls and a red circle on her FaceTime app.

Evelyn felt awful about it but her first trip for work since the pandemic was proving to have more of a strain on her relationship than she thought it would. She was used to using work to distract herself from her ex-husband and saying yes to everything so she didn't have to be at home. Now, with Callum, that was all she wanted to do. And she knew it was perfectly in her control to change it but she couldn't find the right way to convince her brain this man was different.

"Alright, Evelyn, let's do more sultry than cute this time." She shook the fog from her mind and stared down the camera.

"Hi everyone, I'm Evelyn Shaw, and I'm going to let you on my secret for endlessly kissable lips..."

----

She kept her sunglasses on as she stepped out of the car and let the screams and camera clicks wash over her. She blew kisses and waved as her security ushered her into the store and the door closed behind her with a sigh. Evelyn made an extra effort to shake the hand of all the staff that were in the store and hugged the handful of Dior executives that she had gotten to know during the process of launching the lip oil.

"Ev, let's get some candids of you looking at the new collection over here." Bleary eyed, she slowly rifled through the racks as her stylist took a few photos.

"Hey, Mark?" she called for her assistant as everyone made final preparations before opening the doors. "Do we have any..." she brushed her finger over the tip of her nose, asking for a hit.

"I do, but you were going to stop now that you got out of that relationship, right?"

"Yeah but I'm about to fall over and just need to get through tonight and I'll be fine." They had done this song and dance with her and cocaine before. The habit stopped and started in fits. "A pinky nail. That's all I'm asking for."

"Not here, Ev. Go to the dressing room and I'll bring it back." She kissed his cheek and headed to the back, reapplying her lipstick and fluffing her hair before pacing around the room for a few laps. Finally, there was a knock at the door.

"Fucking finally, Mark, I'm-" She opened the door and it wasn't Mark. "Cal."

"It's been a minute, Ev. You pick up on old habits while you were gone?" He wasn't sure if she had read his message or listened to his voicemails since she'd left. They had gotten increasingly desperate so he hoped she hadn't. But if she was using again, it was no wonder she wasn't responsive.

"No." Her lip quivered. "I'm just exhausted, Callum." Hiding away with him wasn't an option anymore. The safety of his bed wasn't an option anymore.

"There's other ways for us to fix that. Ways that don't involve you pushing me away and letting those vultures back into your life." She fell into a chair and dropped her head into her hands.

"Everyone wants a piece of me and I don't have enough to go around." There were legal battles over dividing assets. Magazines and podcasts that spent their time speculating on the true reason behind her failed marriage and spending hours and pages devoted to convincing someone, anyone, that Callum was a controlling manipulator who had tricked her into cheating with him for status. Photographers who lined every street she walked and yelled obscenities and tried to snag a shard of her broken soul. "You're my drug, Callum. You make the voices stop when I'm with you. But I can't always be with you."

"But that's why we learn how we communicate best. We call or we text or send each other dumb photos to make it feel like we are always with each other." He sat down on the floor in front of her and put her hands on his cheeks. "I'm right here, Ev. And I'm not going anywhere. I'm not him."

"I'm sorry I didn't call. I wanted to. I just didn't know what to say." For all the benefits quarantining together had offered for their relationship, it had also introduced certain complexities. Introduced reliance and dependencies and they hadn't learned how to be apart. Let alone how to be successful at it. "I'm still getting used to things being normal. To having you as part of my normal."

"I'm sorry I didn't come find you sooner."

"Promise you'll always find me? Even when I'm just lost in my own head?" He kissed her forehead.

"Especially then, Evvie."

#callum turner #callum turner x reader #callum turner x oc #callum turner fanfiction #answered #evelyn

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thatone-brightstar · 11 months

Text

The Bear & The Fox (Carmy Berzatto x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 11: Collateral Damage

Words: 5.8k

Summary: It's been a month since your breakup with Carmy and Syd wouldn't ask for your help unless they were absolutely slammed.

a/n: 1 more chapter + epilogue to go and I don't know what to do with myselffff!!!!

Thank you for sticking around thus far and commenting is always appreciated!

Heartbreak is a funny little thing. You can walk a delicate line all your life to avoid feeling it, but one way or another it’ll find you. It’s the eternal debate: To avoid all and spare yourself from hurt, but live a life of emptiness and quiet; or to welcome the pain like an old friend, at peace and knowing you never stopped trying. Everyone chooses a side at some point, but you’re never really spared from it.

You’ve always hated the part of you that feels too deeply. The one that created stories out of strangers, wonder struck by microseconds of eye contact, then shattered when they step off the train. The one that no matter how many times was dolefully blown into the ground, it still believes in good grace and happy endings.

“So yeah… That’s basically it since the last time I saw you.” You say, twirling the small ring with the aquamarine stone that you had stopped wearing long ago. You look up to the woman sitting across from you and ask “What? You asked me how I was.”

“And I wasn’t expecting a two hour monologue.”

“Well what did you expect? Haven’t seen you in months, I needed to vent…” You fight back.

You can hear the soft scribbles of her pen for a couple minutes and you make yourself comfortable against the soft pillows that fill up most of her couch.

“So, how long has it been?” She speaks again.

“Bout a month…” You sigh.

“And have either of you tried reaching out?”

“No, I-” You take a breath and ponder over the question, the single unanswered text weighing heavy on your phone. “I wouldn’t know what to say. Besides, I’ve been too busy with my paintings and helping out with the auction. I don’t really have time for… anything else. I-I guess he’s been busy too.”

“But you still know what he’s up to?” She asks with raised brows.

You shrug with a single shoulder and chew at your thumbnail with slight nerves. “Syd talks about work sometimes, when we go out. But I think she kinda feels guilty for bringing him up. I told her it’s fine.” The woman looks at you skeptically through the small circular glasses. “I’m fine.” You half lie. “I am, it's just… The auction is this weekend and they’re catering so… I don’t really know how I’m supposed to feel…”

“Because you’ll see him again?”

“...Yeah.”

The woman calls your name again and you rip your eyes from the ring on your finger, heavy inside your own head to hear her question.

“So, is your set finished?” She asks to change the conversation.

“Mhm. It only took me a couple weeks to finish but -” Your smile curls slowly at the edge of your lips. “I'm really proud of them.”

“That’s great to hear.” She whispers with a genuine smile. “You know, heartbreak can also be a beautiful thing. It’s painful, yes, but it also gives a vulnerability we don’t regularly allow ourselves. It lets us create wonderful things. It’s all part of the human experience. It truly is nice to know you’re doing better, even after going MIA for months.” She says with a practiced tone mothers use to scold you.

She schedules you in for the next month and you promise to not bail this time, then walking out the office with your bag over your shoulder and a lightweight heart. The prospect of seeing him at the auction is still heavy on your mind as you make your way to the train station and the simple thought fills your chest like a crisp breath of air. ‘He could just send Syd’ you think and you try to not engage too much with the idea in fear that it may sour your good mood. Instead you focus on your steady steps and people watching, ‘whatever happens, happens.’ you mumble under your breath.

**********

Syd’s call had pulled you from the comfort of your home before the sun was even visible over the horizon. Her worried tone had you waking up instantly and darting frantically around your darkened room in search of anything that could shield you from the increasing cold, then out the door and in the dreaded direction of The Beef.

It’s been a month since you last spoke with Carmy and even though in the grand scheme of time, it’s only a mere speck of dust, to you it had felt eternal. Small snippets blur together into one long strenuous day, piggy-backing off your grief and pushing your shoulders deeper into the ground. You had called him a few days after in hopes that you could talk things over, but it went straight to voicemail. So you left a text that you anxiously waited an answer for the following days. All of a sudden, one week turned into two, then three and before you knew it, a month had gone by without a response. You kept busy picking up most of the planning to avoid any crossing thought of him, only allowing yourself to break with your canvas in front and acrylics to spear.

You had done enough to convince yourself you were fine, that even if he were to show up tomorrow and not send Syd on his behalf, you'd be fine.

Fine. Fine. Fucking fine.

Everything was fucking fine until this morning when Syd had called to ask for help at the restaurant. Richie had been arrested, the place was a mess and they were behind on prep for the event tomorrow because they were lacking hands. Protesting would only lose you time that they did not have, so in place of that you settle to ignore the treacherous wormhole vacuuming out the few remains of confidence you had saved for tomorrow as you wait for the train that’ll leave you on River North Station.

Twenty three minutes later, you're walking at a brisk pace through the streets with a thick knot for a stomach and a growing unease. You push through the door and stop in your tracks at the shock and disarray of the place.

“What the fuck? Ugh-”

The potent smell of alcohol is the first thing that invades your nose, along with the stickiness of the floor the deeper you walk into the room. There’s solo cups scattered everywhere and half working Christmas lights hanging loosely over the walls. Some frames from the front wall lay broken, spewing shards of glass all around the tiles.

“Mi amor, qué sorpresa!” You hear Tina’s voice from behind the counter and you slowly walk towards her, the small pieces shattering under the weight of your boots.

She hugs you tight and kisses your cheek. “Tina, what the hell happened in here?! It smells like the fuckin’ Hangover…”

“Ay baby, don’t even get me started with these knuckleheads-”

You take another woeful look around, then follow her inside as she recounts the little information Sydney gave them from the frantic phone call she had with Carmen. How they rented out The Beef for a bachelor’s and Richie had knocked out some drunk while defending Carmen’s ass. It’s strange to you, the pair’s relationship. How they were always ready to rip each other to pieces, but would jump to save the other without a second thought. They said they couldn’t stand one another, but you’re sure they’re something either can’t live without.

“So what, he’s in for aggravated assault?” You ask.

“Only if the guy wakes up.” Marcus answers with a broom in hand, sweeping away remnants of glitter and tinsel.

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Could be 5 to 25 for accidental manslaughter…” Sweeps chimes in while carrying a full trash bag to the back.

Your throat closes up and behind your concern, you hear Marcus ask Sweeps how he knows so much about the matter. ‘Bro, I told you. I went to Harvard Law…’ ‘Oh yeah…’

You breathe in deep while maintaining the possibility of his release still in your mind and you head to Syd’s side, pulling your hair up into a ponytail automatically.

“Alright, brigade’s here. What d’you need?” You say after a quick hug hello.

“Guess you know more about it than I do…”

She’s flipping through the binder with all the recipes and images of the canapes they’d be serving, the one you helped Carmy assemble all those months back. Despite a few scribbles and notes at the foot of some recipes, it’s practically the same. You bend the corner lightly on the last page to find the miniature ‘C’ surrounded by purile hearts and your morning coffee grows knotty in your gut.

“Is he…” You try asking, but the sentence loses power half way through.

Syd seems to catch your drift. “No, no. He’s been down at the station since dawn.”

You nod absentmindedly with your eyes glued to the page.

“Okay, um. Marcus left the sourdough for the tapas rising all night yesterday, so we have a good start on that-” Syd began and you pull all your attention to the task at hand. “Beef’s already bracing in the oven but it’ll take a couple more hours. You can start with the ginger- tangerine compote. That’ll go on the brie.” She says, handing you one of the blue aprons.

“Alright, heard.” The words feel unnatural rolling off your tongue after being away from a kitchen for so long.

She leaves you in search of Fak, urging him to finish fixing the backed up sink in the Steward section. You drown out the bicker and hastily make your way into the walk-in, throwing the apron over your head and tying the back securely around your waist. It’s almost as if the familiar pressure unveils a dormant sensation and you soon find yourself navigating with ease through the skills you thought forgotten. The knife feels at home under your palm -heftier than a paint brush but still requires the same level of concentration- as you separate the tangerine supremes and add them to the pot holding clarified butter, sugar and rosemary leaves. Everyone works in a rhythmic but comfortable silence, a stark difference from the frantic, unmeasured mess they seemed to thrive in when you still worked here.

“Yo chef?” Marcus calls from your left.

You lift your head to him while you finish peeling the ginger. “What's up?”

“Mind tasting this for me? It’s for the gig but somethin’ bout the filling don’t feel right…”

You nod and wipe your hands on your rag, then take a bite into the miniature stuffed doughnut that doesn’t seem bigger than an Oreo. The flavors are too thick to tell them apart but the softness of the dough allows it to almost melt in your mouth.

“The dough’s perfect-“ You say between bites, the compliment blooming over his face into a grin. “How bout a different filling though, there’s a lot going on and you can’t really enjoy the texture.”

“Right!? See, that’s what I was thinkin’. Got anything in mind?”

“Mmm, you could try a chai cream filling.”

“Just milk and cinnamon, then?”

“Yes and also no” You answer with a smile. “Try to steep some black tea in milk with cinnamon and ginger. Then instead of sugar, add honey to your crème and the chai milk. It should be a little bit more runny so when it cools it doesn’t get that jelly-like consistency from the egg.” You finish then turn back to peeling off the skin of the ginger with your spoon.

Marcus is still standing beside you with a pleased smile. “You really know your stuff, huh? Thought you was burnt out.” and you lightly hit him over the arm with the back of your spoon.

“Oh, I can totally smoke your ass baker boy..” You grin.

Before he can fight back, a sudden commotion by the entrance has you lifting your head above the second level of the table and searching for the noise. The slick handle of the spoon almost slips past your hand when your eyes capture the image of two very sleep deprived Carmen and Richie walking through the staff door. You can see everyone showering them with attention, how Tina hugs Richie tight then smacks him hard over the head, but the loud ringing in your ears and the sudden rush of cold blood prevent you from moving any closer. Not that you’d want to anyway. You try to pull yourself together, wiping your clammy hands for the tenth time and watching them advance deeper into the room. Richie’s the first to spot you and true to his nature, he lets the whole room know that he’s seen you, with outstretched palms in your direction.

“Oh, shit! This a fuckin’ family reunion?!” His hand falls heavily over the crown of your head and you swat it away with a smack.

“How’s prison?”

“Oh, y'know…free food, can’t complain.”

“D’you get yourself a bitch?” You tease.

“Yeah, brought ‘em home, actually-” He says pointing back to Carmy, causing the forming grin on your face to fall when you see he’s been watching you. You pull your eyes from him and back to your cutting board. “Oh right, my bad…”

You shake your head, mumbling a sharp ‘asshole’ through gritted teeth. Richie takes off to the back and you’re finally left at peace.

You fall into a pronounced balance of chopping and continuously stirring the compote, until it reaches the needed consistency and you pull it off the fire to cool. You check it off Syd’s thoroughly organized list and scroll down to find the next task, then make your way back into the walk-in. With a bowl resting on your hip, you pick out a few pears you’ll need, then hear the creak of the metal door open and you assume it’s Syd coming in to take a breather from the frenetic kitchen.

“Yo, I’m gonna start poaching the pears. You’re out of red wine but I can run to the corner store and try to flirt with the clerk to knock a few bucks off a bottle-”

The slick bowl almost slips from your grip when your eyes catch his. A chill slithers from your neck, down your spine and wraps around your knees, rendering them uselessly immobile as Carmy just stares you down through tired lids. The room grows uncomfortably smaller with the two of you locked inside and you're afraid that he can hear the irregular tempo in your quickening pulse. You wonder if the slight shock in his brows is due to not knowing you were in there. It only flashes for a second, then his features conceal behind a curtain of indifference, making your stand straighter.

“H-hey.” He says with a feign coolness as he wraps his own apron around his waist and moves deeper into the room, as if it’s the most natural thing to find you between the inventory of his restaurant.

You turn back to the shelf so he doesn’t notice the multiple quivery inhales it takes for your voice to sound somewhat even. “Syd asked me for help, that’s why I’m here I-”

“No- yeah, I get it- I wasn’t-” He cuts himself off and takes a breath that has your wavering stare slowly inching towards him. “Thank you…”

You finally turn to him, only holding his stare for a second, then give him a tight smile and wrap both arms securely around the bowl that wants to slip from your clammy palms. His lips part and you wait for anything else to leave his mouth, maybe a ‘How’ve you been?’ or a ‘Can we talk?’. But nothing does and you try to not let it sting as much as it normally does when you get your hopes up. You take a reluctant step towards the door, then another and another, only stopping when your name vibrates in the concealed room.

“Yeah…?” You turn with a full chest.

He holds an unopened bottle of wine in your direction, face blank. “Bottom left shelf.” He says, shrugging.

“Oh. Right.” You take it without meeting his stare so he doesn’t see the grief slapped across it and quickly push yourself out the space.

You spend the better part of half an hour peeling the thin skin off the pears and letting the simmering wine and spices fill the kitchen with a strong sweetness. Carmy’s presence looms around the room as he checks in with every station on their progress, but doesn’t stop with you. All you get is a soft ‘Behind’ and the tingling sensation of his touch on your lower back as he passes by. You don’t know if it’s on purpose or not, although it doesn't really matter to the breath that stops in your throat when he does it. ‘Just finish this and you can leave.’ you repeat to yourself. Though you know you won’t, at least not until they’re up to schedule, even if every second sharing the same space withers at your soul.

You do your best to focus on your task, only talking to Tina when she gently squeezes your forearm to ask if you're okay, because your brows are glued into that permanent scowl that only displays your irritation outward.

“Yeah I, um- just got a lot on my plate.” You tell her and try to not let it trigger the tears you’ve hoarded in the back of your throat.

“No te hará sentir mejor-” She whispers to your side.

“-Probably not-”

“-pero él está igual de miserable que tú. Really baby, you should have a talk with him, y’know, straighten things out.”

“T, ni siquiera me ve a la cara…” You whisper back. “How am I supposed to straighten anything out if he won’t even look at me?”

“Ay, baby I know. But I’ve known that stubborn boy all his life and let me tell you, since he came back from Madison Square Park -or wherever the fuck-, he was all different and… bitchy. And it wasn’t ‘till you came along that he finally felt like the Carmy we all knew before… pues ya tu sabes.” She says in reference to his brother.

“You two are good for each other, but you’re both stubborn as hell… talk it out, okay? Don’t lose somethin’ good ‘cause you're stubborn.” Tina rubs your shoulder reassuringly then with a final smile. she turns yelling ‘Corner!’ and disappears behind the tall stands.

You swallow down the aching knot and distract yourself with the slippery fruit in your hands.

“Can I..?” You see his hands before hearing his voice, as he lightly places a white cutting board a few feet away from you. You eye the curves of discoloring letters above his knuckles, then force your stare back to your own working hands and shrug.

“Sure… your kitchen.”

He only nods, from your side view you see how his eyes linger on you for a few moments then fall back down. The air between you feels thick despite the music playing from the hoarse stereo and a light layer of conversation from the staff. There’s a heavy pressure over your chest that only seems to expand with every silent minute passing between you.

Then Carmy clears his throat. “How’s-uhm- your set.. for the auction?”

Confusion and irritation brew in synchronicity with your wine and you try to hide the annoyance his question brings you. He acts as if he’s just seen you the day before, as if things had ended with a friendly handshake and a mutual agreement, not with him breaking up with you and completely vanishing from your life.

“It’s fine.” You turn to the burners and stir the pot slowly to keep it from burning and also to avoid his heavy gaze.

You taste it to make sure the flavors are correct then turn back to finally finish peeling the last of your pears. Carmy stares at you like he wants to say something else, but just contemplates the seriousness of your features and the flow of your hands as you move the peeler in a frenzy. Each stroke grows closer to your skin and he just feels the need to warn you.

“Careful you’re gonna-”

“Mierda!” You hiss, dropping the handle immediately and cradling your palm under the injured one. “Hijo de puta!”

He’s by your side in a second, with his clean towel hovering under your hands and taking the fruit that you crushed involuntarily when the pain closed your fist.

“It’s fine- I’m fine.”

“No you’re not, you’re bleeding-”

“I said I’m fine!” You pry your hand hard enough to hear a slight pop from your wrist.

Carmy’s hands fall to his sides and you divert your gaze to the floor walking to the nearest sink to clean your wound. You hiss again when the warm water hits your palm and a gash at the bottom of it is finally visible. Fucking perfect. You scrub remnants of puree and blood off, until the water runs a light pink and you're relieved to see it won’t need stitches. A gauze and some tape will suffice, so you wrap it in some paper towels to avoid dripping and march to the small office where you find the kit. The quicker you move, the faster you’ll be out of the confined space that makes you feel like a vulnerable prey. But your fingers tremble from the light sting and the edge of the wrapper isn’t cooperating with your dull nails. Tiny droplets of blood pool in the center of your palm, the frustration grows too quickly and you slam the unopened gauze flat on the desk.

“Fuck!”

‘It’s fine, you’re fine.’ The voice in your head circles through the same phrase, pretending that the sudden proximity of him didn’t unearth something you have tried so hard to bury down for the last month. You thought you could be mature enough to ignore the crushing weight settling over you with every stare, but the wisps of frigid indifference that radiated off him wrapped a tightening noose around your neck and you weren’t sure how long you had until it finally killed you.

A soft click pulls your attention from the crimson in your hand. Carmy stands with raised palms, inching slowly towards your intense glare, then reaches out a hand as if trying to help a wounded animal. Which in a way, you are and the joke forming in your mind about the bear helping a fox would be rather funny if you weren’t so immensely upset with him.

With a ragged sigh, you turn in the small space and stretch out your hand to him, eyes locking on a painting on the wall to evade his stare. You ignore the furor of goosebumps that invade your skin the second his touch is on you. Carmen’s hand holds you in the cocoon of his fist, thumb rubbing delicate circles beside the battered spot while he uses the paper towel to soak up all the blood. You reprimand your wayward beats for their reaction to his innocent touch and you have to constantly pull your wandering gaze from reaching the dangerous borders of his tightened jaw. His deep exhales fan the baby hairs resting at the bottom of your neck, his attention fixed on the small imperfection. His movements are slow, asking each muscle for permission to move the next, because having you this close after so long is a luxury he does not want to rush through, not if he’s never getting it again.

Carmy understood your anger. He could feel it radiating off you in waves that bounced in the small space, but he also understood that he’s never had enough words to properly express the turmoil of everythingness swirling constantly inside his head. He wanted to let you know how hard it had been for him too. Confess the unhealthy amount of time he was spending at the restaurant- only going home to shower then leaving again- because he was afraid of the scent of your perfume and how it lingered on every breathable space in his home… apartment- not home- at least not since you had gone.

He focuses on swabbing the sanitizing wipe tenderly in hopes that his actions can transmit what he can’t say. The alcohol makes you hiss again and his eyes flicker to your frowned brows, mumbling a soft ‘sorry’.

He only lets go to tear open the gauze and some tape, then takes you in his grasp again to wrap your palm up safely. You expect him to let go once he’s done. To create as much needed space to fit the betrayal he portrayed the last time you saw him, this would only explain why he never called back. But he doesn’t. And he doesn’t look up at you either. Your stares meet on the flesh where his thumb still brushes over the blood-stained pit, your chest raises in slow puffs and the uninjured hand grips tightly over the edge hitting behind you. This is all too familiar again, right down to the brewing anxiety trickling heat into your overworked veins. You can't help but to foolishly crawl your pupils over the navy blue of his apron, past the strained tendons of his neck, the sharpness of his nose and to the beautiful blue you had missed so much.

Neither of you notice how the space has reduced to mere inches between you until his eyes flicker to yours and every single speck is bright and visible for your admiration. He swallows down hard, the Adam's apple bouncing in his throat portrays his nerves openly to you. The last reasonable, minute voice in his head tells him to pull away, but the way you’re staring up at him has his body tilting in your direction instead. Eyes wide and glossy dance around the freckles dusting his cheeks, causing his hand to float from your wrist to the dip of your waist and his forehead finally falls against yours.

You gasp in softly when his fingers dig into the center of your spine while his nose brushes along yours longingly. You can feel his sultry exhales ghost over the curve of your parted lips with doubt still present in his movements.

“Carmy…” The voice is above a whisper and you’re not sure you even have the strength to utter the sentence that’s formed in your head.

Your voice seems to trigger something in him. His jaw hardens, his fingers bunch up your shirt in a light fist and just as quickly, his grip on you loses strength and his hand falls to rest beside your fisted one. Then a grave sigh parts his chest and he takes a painful step back, unwilling to lift his eyes from the ground.

It takes a minute for you to react, then the butterflies in your stomach turn to wasps swarming in dangerous circles, unable to fly out due to the knot blocking your throat. He’s eerily silent, eyes glued to the floor to ignore your fiery glare.

“Sorry, I…”

You scoff and shake your head, blinking rapidly to pull back the tears threatening to spill with your anger.

“Screw you, Carmen.” You untie the apron as quickly as you can with your injured hand and throw it at his desk before walking out of the small room.

With strong footsteps, you take your bag from above the lockers and escape out the back. The door slams hard as you push yourself out, Carmen following behind but by the time he calls your name you’re already a couple steps ahead.

“Fox!” He yells and you spin in his direction with nothing but anger over your face.

“Listen, I’m sor-”

“No-fuck you- you don’t get to talk, alright?! It’s my turn.” He takes a step back before crashing into you, jaw locked tight and regardless of the deafening ring in your ears, you refuse to bite your tongue again.

“Look Carmy, I am truly sorry that I didn’t tell you earlier and I’m so sorry that I’m here instead of your brother- but that does not mean you get a fuck-it-all free card and get to pull shit like that!” Tears of anger trickle down your heated skin and tickle the curve of your trembling lips.

“I called you Carmy…” The words burn as they force themselves to spill out. “I called you, and I texted you and I waited cause I knew you were pissed - and you have every fuckin’ right to be- but it doesn’t give you the right to kick me out of your life one second, then act as if everything’s fine the next, cause it’s not!”

The sounds of the city have grown mute between your heavy breaths and the erratic beating in your skull. You don’t expect him to answer and he doesn’t seem to have anything to say. He simply stands before you, eyes glossy and brows knitted as you bare all that you kept since the last time you saw him.

“I know you’re scared. And I know you’re angry and whatever this is-was-” You say pointing between you. “I know it didn’t come at a right time. But I meant what I said, Bear, I do love you. So fucking much. But that doesn’t mean it’s fair of you to take it out on me cause you’re angry at him… I refuse to be collateral damage for whatever the fuck you got going on.”

The weight over your chest might have shrunk, but it didn’t make you feel any less better than before, especially not with the way he’s looking at you. You want nothing more than to run to his side and kiss away the few stray drops that nest in the corner of his red rimmed eyes. You want to hug him tight until the loose pieces of his brokenness stick back together into one whole man, but the last of logic inside you knows that it would only serve as a temporary band-aid. So instead you offer a speck of a smile, just a soft curve that doesn’t reach your teary eyes.

“I love you, Carmy. So I dunno, give me a call when you sort it out- I know it’s more of a ‘when’ than an ‘if’ situation-… I think I’m stupid enough to answer.”

Carmen watches from his frozen position as you rub the tears away with the back of your hand, then the gravel crunches under your boots and in a few seconds you disappear around the corner.

He has enough energy to slump over the crates by the wall and pull the crushed package of smokes from his back pocket. While the wisp of smoke swirls in the wind around him, he rubs his eyes until the image of your tear-soaked face blurs away behind the darkness. The gravel creeks again, heavy steps move from his left then settle with a groan beside him.

“I’m not in the mood, alright?” He says, eyes focused on the street at the end of the alley.

Richie doesn’t say anything, only takes out his own cigarette and joins his cousin in silence.

“Is there, um-” His voice is thick and wavering, barely holding on to controlled breaths. “Is there a name for… when you’re afraid of somethin’ good happening cause you think somethin’ bad’s gonna happen? ”

His thumb rubs anxiously over the same spot on his palm as he waits for Richie’s response.

“Fuck it, I dunno… life?” He takes a long drag, letting the exhale occupy the empty space in front of them. “That bad, huh?”

“Yeah…” Then the silence falls over them again.

When his cigarette burns out, Carmy reaches for another, but before he can settle the lighter back down, Richie pulls out a small envelope from the pocket of his jacket and hands it to him. Carmy’s reluctant to take it, his eyes flicker between his cousin and the piece of paper, then he slowly reaches out.

“What’s this?”

“It’s from your asshole brother… R.I.P and whatnot.” Is all he says.

His hand trembles again, his breath short circuits and a new wave of dread nips at the back of his neck. He swallows hard and breathes in deep, bracing himself, before turning it over. ‘This day just keeps getting better…’

Chapter 12.

Taglist: @pearlstiare @teteminne, @beebslebobs, @harrysmatcha, @yum-yahgurt, @pussy-f41ry, @kirakombat and that’s it lmao

301 notes · View notes

sintiva · 2 years

Text

is there someone else..// ∘*n. kento x blackfem!reader

୭̥⋆*｡ summary: pregnancy doesn’t always come easy and when you start second guessing your relationship it only gets harder

୭̥⋆*｡ cw: angst, established relationship, reader and nanami are parents, mentions of cheating, reader lacks confidence, panty kink, male masturbation, fingering, penetrative sex, nanami talks you through sex, cream pie, cock warming, overall nanami is a horny man who misses his sexy pregnant wife 🫶🏽… lmk if i missed anything //wc: 8.9k

୭̥⋆*｡ notes: this is a piece from my old account and i’m reposting it specifically for @eiflawriting cause they so sweetly came in my inbox and almost made me cry😭

your pregnancy came with uncertainties, newfound insecurities and wavering trust in your lovely — what used to be a lovely marriage. it’s something that you despise, something that you constantly worry about. did you look good enough? did you deserve this pregnancy? did you deserve nanami? did you deserve the embarrassment that came with it all?

but you never asked if anybody was deserving of you, you couldn’t find it in you too. the energy to really consider yourself a being worth love and commitment had severely plummeted during your years as a mother; yes! this wasn’t your first.

all these feelings and unanswered questions could only be answered by one person, and that person is the same one who lashed out a couple of nights ago. a fight so unwarranted and negatively focused you got rushed to the hospital, your blood pressure had never been higher and you’ve never felt more alone, but even through all that. he was still there; silently weeping at your side calling his job and telling them someone else would have to step in and take over his duties for a while.

you know you suspected for a real long time, he wasn’t as slick as he posed to be. it wasn’t getting past you, you’d figured it out. you didn’t know how long it had been going on for, but something was happening. there was a sick twist in your marriage dynamic. nanami wasn’t the same, you weren’t as receptive to any feelings, and that was it. you were never in the right of mind to do anything. there was a constant conflict between you and your former self. that heavy weight of self loathe from your former was predestined.

being a mother made life increasingly different — you wouldn’t say hard; it was more so a challenge. you had another being to worry and care for, which resulted in you slipping up on yourself. you lacked the skill to nurture yourself. nanami was there even while you constantly pushed back at him, wedging a fatter gap in between the two of you.

so maybe that’s why you couldn’t blame him for his actions. that’s why you stopped going out with him, it’s why you lost all confidence in yourself. you weren’t enough to keep up with a man of his stature. did you hear those words from him though? no, kento would never berate you. yet it felt like he was everyday, just by that repulsive look of longing that he had on his face.

those kisses he gave you, the pats on your head. his forms of affection had lessened over the last year and you wondered what changed everything. then things started to click. as you did laundry you noticed some things, underwear that didn’t look familiar, but they only came through once a month.

a white substance, the ghost of its outline in the middle. underwear that were too sexy to be yours, too small to fit the mass of weight that you had gained. a perfume on them so strong that you gagged at the smell. a smell you used to like that now made your nose scrunch up and made your stomach flip with unease. you ran to the bathroom that night throwing up what little food you were able to eat that day.

and it was on that terrible friday that you had come to the conclusion. nanami wasn’t happy anymore. he didn’t talk as much anymore, the kisses were light and breathy. the smiles weren’t the same, his smile lines were replaced with worry and regret. but that’s when he left during the day, he’d come back home some nights looking fruitful; full of a youth that you couldn’t reciprocate .

after sobbing for hours, scarfing down ice cream to soothe your sorrow, you'd confront him. right as he turned the knob and stepped foot in the house…

“nami… you’re — you’re cheating on me.” life was still, your baby was upstairs peacefully, sleeping soundly in their crib. crying out was the only thing you could do when you saw the look on his face. “you leave me alone for other women?” you question. listening wasn’t your strongest skill right now. you needed the attention that he wasn’t giving you, you needed to know where things had gone wrong, how life became so pitiful and quiet.

“y/n, what are you talking about?” he pursed his lips. his hand crept up along his abdomen to pull off his usual leopard print tie. it felt awfully tighter. “ is she prettier,” you choke on your words, “i-is she fucking prettier than me, kento?”

“no kids? has herself put together?” your tears sting as they drench the apex of your cheeks. you have to sit down. you see him; a genuine look of shock and confusion written on his face. even though your tears blur your vision you can see his face, stricken with loss, and you hear him trudge across the room. “don’t! don’t come closer to me.” you place a hand on your tummy and stumble back. you’ve hit a wall, figuratively and literally.

could one person throw away a life like this when their significant other has been at their lowest for what’s felt like a millennial? is it possible? you think of the night that you were in the delivery room delivering your first child. he was there beside you the whole fucking time. telling you how good you did, how proud he was of you, and that wasn’t something you weren’t sure you would ever feel again.

care like that was scarce until you met him, but now it wasn’t like that anymore. he didn’t radiate his usual safety; the love wasn’t the same. but here you were tearing yourself down for something that you had no control over. lack of communication has led you here.

the echo of your sobs filled the big two story house. the gray walls now grew discolored. the iron skillet that was once holding sauteed onions burned, a thick wisp of smoke curled around the kitchen, a little of it slipping into the common area. the great chandelier that dangled overhead, the only thing that created distance between you two minus the rug and chocolate couch. even at this distance you still had to look up at him, you still had to meet his eyes, ones that were shaded by his favorite shades

“when’d you stop lovin’ me?” it’s as if a weight sank deep into your stomach. an anchor holding you down from within, a negative force claiming your soul dragging you into the depths of a dark abyss. there was no shore in sight, no light guiding you back to a safe place. a happy place — home.

“y/n? where is this coming from,” you’ve made him uneasy, “where is all this coming from?”

“don’t make me sound crazy,” you suck in a deep breath, you can feel snot bubble out of your nose, and it’s hard to get the right words out, “you don’t even call me princess anymore, don’t kiss me like you used to…”

“it’s like you’re fucking ashamed of me now, kento.”

“none of that is true, y/n… none of it! where is this all coming from?”

you’re aware of his faults. though in comparison to you his are miniscule, faults that couldn’t be attained even if you tried to find them. but one fault that would stay with him for as long as he would live was his need to comfort you, even when you were throwing insults at him.

he’s aware of the droplets of tears that stain your oversized shirt, the tears rolling down the acrylic paint that was now worn from countless washes. the woman sits in a greenland, surrounded by a bunch of computers and its parts. ‘ctrl’, something you have no grasp of. washing away, chipping away. your feet are comforted by a pair of fuzzy socks that he bought for you on your birthday, and he notices how your legs shake. you’re defeated.

“who do you think i’m cheating on you-”, he gestures with his hands and holds onto the back of the couch to stand, making a point, “why would i cheat on the woman who's done so much for me?”

“cause ’m not doing anything for you ‘nymore!” your voice breaks, it cracks and you feel a bubble swell in your throat. pain shoots through your body and something within your head thumps. it starts small but then it grows. its a throb that feels like someone’s holding your brain and squishing it between their fingers like a stress ball; managing their own but amplifying yours. it’s a headache soon turned migraine that gently raps its twisted fists against the confinements of your skull.

“don’t play dumb with me,” the tears don’t stop and they won’t stop, “please- please don’t play dumb with me right now.”

“those underwear that pass through the laundry. they aren’t mine. that’s the fucking problem nanami they’re not mine.” you peer up at the ceiling, too embarrassed to go on. you blink away the tears that are too heavy, further screwing with your vision. the ones that roll down your face too slowly and make a path of their own. slipping into your mouth and dangling at the inner corner of your lips until you swipe them away with your finger.

nanami’s breath begins to quicken, and his hands feel clammy. he doesn’t know exactly what he can say to make this situation any better but he sets his feet to walk over to you. you tremble with each step he takes and you force yourself into another corner. in your mind you’re just thinking, trying to make it make sense and find the timestamp in your relationship when everything went sideways.

when you two started to become distant and when things were no longer tranquil.

you despised him for making you feel so alone. making you feel like you had nowhere to turn and for driving you to insanity. it felt as if you weren’t with anyone’s attention but you always paid attention to others. you just needed him, hopefully how he needed you.

you’re a complete mess, and nanami soaks in it. he looks at you breathing so hard because you’re winded. not only are you carrying a baby but you’re finally confronting him. you’ve had all this bottled up in your brain, and even as you tried to push it to the back it floated right to the surface. today was your breaking point. everything in the house echoed and you could hear a quiet sound drifting from upstairs.

it wasn’t too loud, but it was your mother’s instinct. your ears perked up and tuned into the sound of small wails. the baby. you sniffle once more, and clean your nose, “the baby’s crying.” you whisper on your way out of the kitchen. you refuse to look at him, you refuse. “y/n! the baby can wait, we’re right here in the house.”

he strides up behind you and grabs a hold of your free hand as your first foot lands on the gentle carpeted step. “what is there to talk about, hm?”

“gonna play it off as me being crazy?”

“can you stop and listen, please,” his heart beats unevenly, it’s unnerving. “i still love you.” he whispers. he can feel his own tears begin to brew, he stares at his feet with your arm still in hand, “i still love you, nothing — nothing has changed.”

“i want to be here for you as much as i can, but it’s hard. there’s so much that i wanna do for you, but it’s hard.” he begins, he draws a long breath before continuing, “i’m not cheating on you, i would never cheat on you.”

“the underwear…” he pauses and kind of squeezes your arms tighter. his mouth dries and it feels as if time has stopped, keeping you both trapped in a bubble that has taken the shape of the air around you. “there yours… old ones.”

he admits the embarrassing truth, “not surprised you don’t remember, but there yours from the first pregnancy.” the sudden moment of realization makes you feel nauseous. you have to swallow down. “mine?” you question, face now drooping. your face was no longer tense, you relaxed instantly. that forced arch of your eyebrow and the frown went back to normal. “the hell do you mean they're mine?”

“i use them…when i’m thinking about you.”

“when you’re thinking about me?” you finally fully relax. your breathing has stabilized again. your shoulders relax and follow the pattern of airflow in your body. in through the nose and a steady stream of cool air transpires out your mouth. “why? what do you mean?”

nanami pulls out his coach leather wallet and pulls open the first flap. you notice a similar slightly opaque slot that holds a similar picture. one from the day that you’ll never forget. the day filled of never ending appointments; hair, nails, lashes, and a fitting. it was the day he proposed to you. he had a professional photographer that snapped pics through the whole evening and nanami printed every single photo the next day. he rotated the photos but he never left that pocket empty.

“see this, i miss seeing you smile like this, smiles always been the prettiest, princess.”

“gets me all the time.” he admitted. the stocky man scooped you forward by the waist. “and i don’t want to scare you, but i’ve been craving you real bad lately.”

“wa-wait whadda you mean.” your lips quivered.

“i use them when i need something.”

“something?” the man drags the roughest part of his hand down his face, he could feel the blood rushing to his head. a nervousness tingling through his midsection, sending pricks of energy throughout his body. starting in his knees and curating all of its energy in his heart.

nobody wants you the way nanami does and it’s been proven time and time again. there’s been different levels of intimacy experienced during your guys time as parents, but there’s just one form you both have been deprived of. nanami can’t deny it, but he can’t believe he’s about to say it — admit to his “darkest” secret.

he’ll flip open his wallet when he gets in his car. his gt sports coupe, a pretty bentley with a nice matte gray finish and dark tinted windows. he sits wide legged, looking at the picture that stirs him up everytime. he keeps a stash of underwear folded neatly in his glove box, keeping it nice and tidy. by the time he’s pulling himself out of his pants, he’s already leaking a precious amount of pre. it’s suffocating, too intoxicating thinking about you. he’s been doing this for a while now, you just forced yourself to ignore it, forget it all.

the woman you’ve become, the desire to more and more to you, but control. he has to control himself as he slips your panties around his length. his breathless pants. too think that he’d gotten to this point, using them we had to…

“i use them when i need to cum.”

“wh-when?” you gawk at your husband, because this was the last thing you expected from him. you didn’t expect him to say it outright like that, and this wasn't the truth you had expected to tumble out of his mouth — far from it actually. flipping perfectly in the air but almost toppling over as it reached your ears.

“ever since we’ve had a kid you turn me on more and more.”

“i just want to take care of you and love on you.”

“oh-oh.”

“oh,” he smiles, “does this surprise you? that i want you more than you know?”

“i wasn't expecting that.” you peep, you slouch and place a soft hand on your tummy and nanami follows. “didn’t think your hubby had it in him?”

you're taken back by this sudden confession. his confession, and you don’t know why but it makes you happy. it makes you consider a swarm of new emotions that swirl around you. you think of how you came onto him so cruel, and accusing. you couldn’t. you couldn’t really concentrate either. staring at your husband and you could hear the augment cries coming from your baby's room.

“i don’t feel good.” you sigh, nearly collapsing in his arms. the night you got rushed to the hospital, stress levels through the roof as shown by the slew of machines that you had you connected to. an ivy drip, a thick band wrapped around your arm continuously checking your blood pressure by the hour.

the temperature checks an ultrasound to make sure that they were just the right amount of heartbeats thumping from within your tummy. it was that night that nanami had cried a second time in front of you and all these strangers he didn’t know. it was at this moment that he realized what a strain he’s been putting on you, what the distance between you has created. he realized he needed to take a break, look out for you; tend for you just like how he wanted to. leaving you in your thoughts without that constant reassurance was a vital mistake.

he knew that he was aware of what you needed from him, but sometimes he was scared of giving too much. too scared to flower you in so much love that you’d soon grow exhausted of him.

it’s been a couple weeks since that day. there was no talk about what occurred. weeks of you thinking about that day, vexing yourself with thoughts so cursed. so mentally stipulating that made you wonder if you were the problem this whole time, but this morning would be different. the entire day would be different, things would soon be sorted out.

you stood in your bathroom wrapped in a rose gold silk trobe; your hair is wrapped in a similar towel with a shrew of curls peeking out at the top. you sigh, patting your cheeks to get the full effect of your l’oreal anti aging serum, moisturizer and spf all in one. you smooth the cold cream under your eyes poking at the puffy darkened skin that settled beneath your teary eyes.

the feeling in your body amounts to two words; heavy and tired. you sniffle as you rub the cream in and pick up two under eye gel mask. you always finished your morning routine while your husband was asleep; it was his turn with your alls first born last night so he hadn’t really settled in bed till about two in the morning, so you eased into the bathroom quietly to start the day, careful not to wake him.

you were fluent in your routine; a hot shower, brush your teeth, face care and your usual belly rubs. while the patches underneath your eye supplied ample nutrients to the area you undid a few buttons. from the fifth button down, you let the cool silk drape against the swell of your tummy. you looked in the mirror swiping the bottom of the foggy mirror, because the circle that cleared wasn’t enough to see your stomach.

you found yourself sighing a lot this time around, and crying came a bit too easy during your second pregnancy. it was nothing new. the skin of your tummy became a bit darker, the stretch marks had never gone away from the first and the second pregnancy only brought along more. you looked at the marks. the ones that you had so much trouble finding the beauty in this time around.

after your first child you thought you’d bounce back quickly. it was a real easy pregnancy, you decided on home birth and nanami was with you every step of the way. he supported you through the entire thing, held your hand in his, and he let you squeeze it as tight as you needed. he took the best care of you and he took even better care of his new daughter.

a tear had plopped on your tummy making you look up and blink a couple times to control the stream. if only you could go back to that first time, the excitement. now it’s not to say that you aren’t excited about your second child, you just don’t feel the same. you don’t feel pretty enough, you’re even bigger this time around and going out with nanami makes you insecure. it’s those same thoughts that keep coming back, mangling their way into your brain. impure thoughts that made things between you two awkward.

but you’re thinking about it more. how you two don’t look the same together anymore, your cheeks are chubbier, your thighs squish together and you do this cute little waddle that you didn’t use to do. you’re constantly leaking out your tits, having to buy new clothes and your cravings make you feel like a savage. eating up everything in sight, stuffing your face, leaving behind little crumbs on your lips and cheeks.

the same one’s nanami kisses all the same. he kisses them a lot more now. the same cheeks he squeezes when he’s reassuring you that he still loves you. the ones he pecks when he notices how nervous you get when you two go out, and it feels like all eyes are on you. he’ll never understand the hormones secreted during pregnancy — well pregnancy in women at all, but he knows it’s been taking a heavy toll on you. the exhaustion, self deprecation and the overall lack of confidence. after the “meltdown” he’s truly trying to understand it more.

he hears it behind the heavy frame of your bathroom door. every morning he hears your sniffles. your murmurs, the sound of the toilet paper being ripped from its permeated edges. the constant flow of deep breaths you take before the cycle happens again, and again. again. he hates it, he sits up in the bed cold jewelry chilling his skin, and he sobs. when you cry nanami cries, it hurts him. he can hear you huffing and ultimately breaking down every morning. he wishes that he could do more for you, he wants to instill in you that nothing has changed between you two at all. you're just muturing, you’ve become a mother and with that you're destined to change. he can only say that so many times though.

one too many times and you’re snapping at him, or you’re crying in his arms. soft, patters of tears dropping onto his chest, but you always melt into the warmth of his body. then you have those times where you’re always swooning over him. specifically when he’s holding your sweet little girl, cradling her head so sweetly even in the swole muscle of his arm. you’d look at nanami and wonder if he had a kid.

he’s been looking the same over the years. he held a steady job at a big accounting firm; first starting as a regular accountant then working his way up to the most prestige of positions. a ceo of a well renowned firm based in the heart of tampa. since the birth of your child back in december he hasn’t been working much and you appreciate it. you’ve been a stay at home mom ever since his big promotion, and truth be told nanami doesn’t want you working at all. ever since what happened recently he took a long — well deserved “vacation” to stay home with you and prepare for your second child.

but it still makes you jealous like when he goes into your local cafe and he gets those stares from baristas, sometimes they give him extra items free of charge. he didn’t look like he had a kid, for all they knew he could be a single man getting his usual office treats. no one really bothered to look at rings anymore, he had a gold band that he wore proudly on his finger. the man never took it off even though you both had matching ring tattoos that had the date you two got married and the day he proposed in roman numerals wrapped around your all’s fingers.

you didn’t get those same kind stares, it felt like everyone looked at you in disgust. sometimes you’d come out bare faced with baggy clothes because that’s all you had the energy for. you had tons of maternity clothes but nothing uplifted your spirits. you considered this second pregnancy the absolute worst. it was so hard, you just weren’t the same.

you used to glow, a really pretty gold sheen always casted your cheeks when you were younger. you used to be a frequent gym babe with nanami. during a real good time you were a well-known gym and cooking influencer. yet age and children crept on you, halting that hobby of yours. you just couldn’t stop thinking about the past couldyou?

the tears just wouldn’t stop

nanami walked into the bathroom as soon as you started peeling off the eye mask, making you jump back. “n-nami.” you squealed, feigning a fake smile for your loving husband. he pressed a kiss to your lips, but he still held a sharp look on his face. his eyes were droopy and he too had dark under eye bags. one’s that matched yours and held a story similar to yours.

“you’ve been crying, princess— again.” he stood beside you in the mirror and looked down at you. “n-no! i haven’t.”

“don’t lie to my right now,” he shuts the door, “now talk.”

“i’m just tired kento, i’m tired of not being perfect. i’m tired of being fucking pregnant. i’m not the same anymore, you see it. i know you must be tired of having to take care of me like a chi-“

he scoops you up and plops your butt right down on the edge of the bathroom counter. he cages you in and gives you a look of warning. one that begs you not to say anymore. it hurts. “stop it, really. you shouldn’t be thinking like that.”

“and you know we never talked after that day,” he lightly unraveled the towel from off of your head, “and i think we should.”

“sometimes i wonder if i should blame myself mo-“

“don’t,” you give him a light laugh, “blame the hormones okay?”

“gotta blame me too, gotta love on my lady a tad bit more.”

your hair has taken a light form of the towel and he giggles his ass off as he tries to ruffle out your curls. you feel your body warm at the slightest touch of affection. it was this form of intimacy that you never got enough of, but you — you had an endless supply. nurturing your daughter and the little kiddo to be inside you.

“i don’t know nanami, i just want to make sure i’m doing good,” you sigh, “you don’t have to baby me.”

“but i’m not, i need to make sure you’re okay. i need you to be okay. i need you to talk to me when you think things are fucked up.”

“i just want — i need your attention more, and not in that way. i need you to tell me when you need me, and i’ll try my best to do the same.”

“mhm you got me,’ he giggled and looked at himself in the mirror before his eyes moved to the half open robe. “what if i told you i needed you right now?’ he hummed.

“don’t play like that,” you balled up your fist and landed playful hits against his chest. he lightly stopped your barrage of petty hits and brought your arms up to dangle around his neck. though you had to raise off your butt to do so.

“i’m not.”

he picked you up, carefully making sure that your tummy was protected as he waddled with you to open the door and over to the bed. you’re not sure if it was the lack of intimacy you two had been engagaing in during the past couple of months, but you were already getting wet. he was always gentle with you, talking you through things and making sure you were okay. the fact that he could lift you up even with all this extra baby weight was astonishing.

it was the same for him. he had his needs, your sex drive had been insanely low, hence another reason why your confidence was dipping. a man without sex, could be considered a lion starved — but that wasn’t him though. nanami was content with what he had, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t aching for sex — clearly. but it’s a bonus when taking care of you.

it’s something he’s been itching for. you feel a big bulge against your ass, and you can’t help but feel so upset for making him wait so long. “ ‘m sorry, nami.” you truly are. you feel as if it’s your fault that he resorted to his newfound “kink”. getting off in your panties thinking of you instead. you’ll always blame yourself, but he doesn’t.

your eyes and inner nose begin to sting as you hold back more tears, “sorry for making you wait so long,” he shushes you and rest his head on the top of yours as he carefully sets you down on the soft sheets. “stop it,” he mumbled. he juggled his next few words as he stared at the family picture that sat ontop of your shared mahogany dresser. his eyes darted to the 85” tv across the room. the mini “samsung'' sequence bouncing around the screen until it fit perfectly into the left edge.

“you owe me nothing,” his lips rested against your hair, “you’re perfect.”

“perfect for me,” his stomach ached as he continued, “perfect partner.” you started to lean back on the bed, maple irises fleeting up to his own. his eyes told a story; filled with love and compassion.

“and a perfect little momma, don’t forget that m’kay?” he slid his thigh up right in between your legs and laid you back on the bed. he was big, taller and broader than you were, it often made you forget. he clasped your hands together over your head, fitting his own within them. he was right on top of you. there was a pattern between your legs, one of his own on the outside of your left thigh and his other was pressing right against your pussy.

his knee gently rubbed against it, the cloth of his pajama pants was soft against the thin cotton of your panties. you hummed in delight and squeezed your eyes shit. the sting of tears returned. you could feel them ready to run over your cheeks and race down onto the sheets. nanami mentally cursed himself for being so hard right now, especially in a space where you got so vulnerable for him, but he just couldn’t help it.

you constantly brushed off sex, you didn’t think you were pretty enough. you reminded yourself over and over that you let yourself go, and that he didn’t need to belittle himself for the likes of you. “kento.” you whimpered.

“you don’t have to do this for me,” you scrunch your face, driven uncomfortable by the tears that ran down the sides of your face trickling into your hair and beading off into the sheets, “ i don’t… i don’t look good right now.”

you don’t have the will to stare back at him, you look down at the space in between you. you see his bulge. his cock leaves a perfect swell in his pants that he has to adjust. he cups his hands around it and shifts it a little bit to calm himself down. “don’t keep saying that,” he mutters, “ you’re so pretty, princess.” his golden locks tickle the skin of your forehead as he leans down.

his nose grazes your forehead and he travels further south, leaving wet kisses along your cheeks and all over the tip of your nose. you feel a gentle tugging at your robe, as he situates his hand around the bottom flap of the robe, he nudges his knee a bit harder against your weeping cunny. those vile feelings of self loathing didn’t stop your pussy from dripping at his sweet words of affirmation.

they spilled from his lips so sweetly and soundly that it made you ache all over. some of that ache was way too concentrated and made you throb right in your core.

“who’s my pretty girl,” he rasped. he propped his body up by lanting his palms flat against the mattress. he grounded himself. being this close to you was his sanctuary and gave him a peace of mind. you felt something in your heart that you hadn’t felt in a while. he touched you with ease, like you were fragile. touches so soft, careful not to break you.

“don’t wanna say it,” you cover your eyes with your hands, the small limbs shaking with nervousness, “don’t want to.” you sniffle.

“don’t be so shy, baby. whose my pretty girl.” it comes out as a deep groan, almost carnal. he begins to spiral on top of you slowly. on an impulse he begins to slowly bend his arms. he’s hovering over a litte bit, he nips at your bottom lip. he sucks on it, wraps his own lips around the fat of it.

your lips are minty against his tongue, and he continues to lower himself. he's even more careful. he doesn’t drop his weight on your tummy but he blocks your view of the area that once contained space. a quiet moan escapes.

nanami’s hips are slowly rutting, he’s pushing his bulge into your heat. that simple action makes your heart rate increase. it’s got you really thinking, the gears in your head turn. even like this you still get him so hard, you can still make him groan into your mouth. he still gets you hot in the face. “come on, baby,” he releases his lip with a pop, “tell me what i wanna hear.”

“i-i’m your,” you can’t rid the string of moans that come out of your lips when he circles his bulge against your puffy clit, “pretty girl — ‘mm your pretty girl.” you moan out entirely too breathless. a couple hot circles against your clit and your body slightly trembles. your breath heightens and you can feel a certain feeling growing in your tummy.

hot and warm. comforting and bubbly

“ ‘s too much ken-!” you squeal out. he pushes into you harder. you can feel his outline, it’s hot as it twitches against your clit. he hates to drag, but he’s dragging himself against you. he’d hate to cum first but it’s been months since he’s had you like this. it’s been so long since the last time he could bring you to a certain bliss; a feeling so high you couldn’t even speak.

your clenching so hardly around nothing. you ball up your fist to your sides, joining nanami in the dry fucking. he plants his left elbow to the bed and falls to your side. smiling and too horny off the thought of you so full of life, tummy swell and eyes squeezed shut as you basically fucked the air.

you both need it, that one thing that will make you both feel whole again. that one thing that you both haven’t reached together in a long time, because fucking wasn’t easy. having sex was a task that you didn’t want to face with nananmi, not after you’ve been moping and feeling like shit. you just didn’t think you deserved it.

this was the morning you were gonna get it though. it was the morning that you decided it was okay to enjoy your pleasure, it was a morning like no other where nanami really praised you made sure you were okay. he’ll never fully understand you, but today those hormones in you didnt release too much. it’s like the estrogen and progesterone gave you a tiny break. the tears were still there but it wasn’t so bad.

“why’d you stop.” you mumble. your lashes are full and heavy, sticking together by the wet fiber of your tears. “ i wanna be inside you.”

his index and middle finger twirl atop the swell of your stomach. he traces them down the line that separates your stomach in two half spheres. “need you to lay on your side,” he runs his hand through his hair, “can you do that for me?”

his hand smooths over your legs as he helps you flip over. you huff as you begin to turn to your side. “this ain’t easy, you know.” he chuckles smoothly, one that transcends right from his gut, “i know, that’s why i’m trying to help,” you end up on your side after feeling comfy, “it’s nice to see you like this.”

“like what,” you breathe out, “beside me like this — it’s been a while” he presses into your skin. your body shivers from his ghostlike touch, and airy words. they’re light and delicate, pulling you into a deep trance.

he grabs a pillow and gives it to you, placing a small half of it underneath you as he gently picks you up. “let me know if it gets uncomfortable okay?” you give him a hurried nod, kindly rubbing your thighs together as you wait for him to make the first move. it’s been so long you don’t know what to do and you don’t know exactly what you want but he does. he’s been patiently waiting for this. the tips of his fingers lightly graze against the smooth heat of your skin. he nestles up right behind you and whispers gentle praise and reassurance.

“gonna be real gentle okay, gonna make you so full, but i’ll fuck you nice and slow.” his fingers start at your shoulder blades and glide down your arm. you quiver gently and rub your ass back against his bulge, “is that okay?”

you hum in response, already drooling from his touch. he continues further down; up and over your full hips and down to your thighs. his fingers nearly skate across them; they glow from the shea butter that you always rub into your skin. “that tickles.” you whine. “does it?”

his right hand travels up over the curve of your top thigh and he easily slips his around to your front. he uses his fingers to feel at the fat of your folds, he starts with your clit and makes his way further down. you're comfortable, warm as he plays with the now soaked cotton of your panties.

his fingers smoothly play with the fabric, you bring his free arm down and grip onto it. too overcome with pleasure, thinking about how you haven’t been touched in so long. thinking back on the last time you yourself even let an ounce of pleasure take you over. “keep doing that.” you whimper, subtly squeezing your thighs together to trap his hand against your pussy.

“missed this pussy.” he groaned. he lifted the cotton, swooning over the slick that stuck to your panties. he dipped his fingers in first, preparing you for penetration. he’s thinking about how it’s been so full since he’s stuffed you full with his cock, but he knows he has to be gentle. he has to loosen up first. starting with everything; all the stress, all the uncertainties. his fingers slip between your folds, gathering your slick before he carefully pushes them in. one finger at a time he starts with his index.

your gummy walls swallow it up, but there’s a slight burn. this intrusion that you haven’t felt in months makes you shiver, has you moaning against a spare pillow. he scoots closer behind you, letting his bulge poke into your ass, “it’s a little tight.” he whispers.

“need you to relax, need you to let me in.”

your pussy flutters, “ ‘m tryin’.”

you forgot what it felt like so you don’t know how to respond. his index curls inside of you, which has you breathing even harder and interrupts your quest of relaxing, but you know it should be simple. you take a few deep breaths, some interrupted by his eager fingers. “almost there.” he mumbles. you continue. you cycle your breaths careful not to intake too much and really let it all out.

there’s a steady pulse that you can both feel, the subtle gaping of your hole as he slips his middle finger inside. “good girl.” he smirks. he’s eager, slowly humping your ass, getting that stimulation for his tip that he needs. you’re too engrossed with the pleasure in between your legs that you don’t notice it. “i think you’re ready, princess.” his excuse to stuff you full, because he simply can not wait to take you

he shuffles behind you still letting his fingers enjoy your sticky heat. the cotton of his sleep pants are nearly soaked, his tip leaked so much and it didn’t help that he woke up horny. not at all. his cock sprung free, heavily sliding against the silk that halted the view of your ass. he folded up that last flap; the robe now covered only the upper half of your body. he pulls his fingers out, rubbing the tips together to feel our slick between them. the delicate substance is thick and clear, and such a pretty fucking sight.

his right hand falls to the cusp of your right knee, slowly lifting the weak limb to allow him access. he holds you up, you can feel his hand squeezing the fat of your thigh; the best for leverage. he was drunk. drunk off your moans and your essence. “let me know if it hurts okay? tell me if it’s too much.”

you nod and wait, you wait patiently for a feeling you’ve grown foreign too. you hold onto your sheets the material folding under your grasp as you feel his bulbous tip poke and prod at your entrance. the fat mushroom tip that blushes a dark red, keen and anxious to stuff you up. he slips it in oozing a crazy amount of precum as he rubs against your gummy walls, and he continues to push.

he’s making you take his shape, since your pussy hasn’t been fitted around it in so long. your nails dig into the bony build of his hand, and you're clamping down too hard, eager to not let anything in. “almost in, princess…”

“i don’t — don’t remember it being this big,” you whimper; clutching onto his hand even tighter, “feels like ‘m gonna break.”

“ah fuckkk. you won’t break, baby. promise.”

“just gotta relax, let me show you how much i missed you.”

nanami draws his hips back and sheathes himself inside. his cock gives you a nice filling, his tip pokes at the sensitive area that settles all the way in the back. grazing against the sensitive skin making you squeal as he guides himself in as far as his hips would allow. those same fingertips now pressed into the fat of your hip. giving him another outlet to release the pressure that formed deep in his stomach.

his thrust were slow, sure to keep you comfy and to issue a welcoming pressure in your core. he didn’t wanna snap or lose control, but it felt like he was digging something out of you. his heaviness dragged inside of you so well and he could feel your insides readjusting to his shape with each deep thrust of his hips.

they slammed against your ass, the firm build of his groin filled the room with a slow clap. he scooted himself down, letting his body move down the back of your own so he could angle his hips up to soothe that spongy, sweet spot inside that nobody has pleasured in so long. “gonna be okay if i go a little faster.” he pistons his hip up at an angle, but he doesn’t sheathe himself all the way in. he misses your cervix by about a centimeter; careful not to evoke too much pain.

“mhm.” you whimper. slightly throwing your hips back and grinding in a half assed circle. “just like that,” he groans, taking a hand full of your waist in his right as he sharpens his thrust with a bit of speed, “a little faster so it feels better. you’re taking me so well, baby.”

“missed this pussy so much.” he swallows; his breath fans across the expanse of your back. you shiver. “it missed you too.” you tremble, latching onto the pillow. his lips are warm as he leaves a trail of kisses down the spine of your back. it’s been a short amount of time, the soft, simple fucking. the press of his abs along the comforting fat of your ass. he swears he’ll cum in any moment. at any moment he’ll be pumping a thick load into your tight cunny, drenching your walls. marking what’s his, stuffing you full of white.

you’re sucking him in too deep, pulling him in deeper. his strokes have a fever to them that you missed. you feel everything, the divet from his tip, you feel it pressing so harshly against your walls. you want to whine, cry about how it hurst, but it feels so fucking good to have your husband inside you again. it feels way too good to get a filling of his cock again; hot and numbing. you throb uncontrollably around him.

nanami sits at the perfect position to fuck into your g-spot. it feels like there’s no room to fit. “nam-namiii,” you whimper, “it feels like ‘m bout to cum.”

“already, princess? i can feel you squeezing… does it feel that good?” he smirks, furrowing his brow as he does the inevitable. his strokes become a little harder; he makes the squelching sound surround you both and he picks up your thigh to make his thrust really reach deep. “cum, baby. cum on this cock — need to feel it so bad.” you can feel him weighing down on your clit.

the bundle of nerves aches with desperation. he stretches you out, separates your folds so that his length hits on it just a little bit, but all the pleasure is up against that spongy spot in your pussy. you try tp cover your mouth, your eyes roll into the back of your head as he times his thrust with your clenching. you’re not slipping up, you refuse to let him go so he can’t stop himself from fucking you.

your wetness drips out onto the sheets, pooling up in the space beneath your legs. as he times his thrust, you slowly begin to tremble and squeeze your thighs shut. “cummin’... nami m’cummin’.” you groan. he tries to speak, but he can’t get anything out. your toes curl as you shake in his grasp. you cum hard, your cunny sucks him into your deepest parts. the way your pussy has him wrapped around your finger is crazy, the way you tighten around him as you ride out his orgasm tips him over the edge. the tightness of your walls milks his cock and all it has to give.

“good — did so good for me, milking daddy’s cock.” it comes out hoarse and airy. he can’t understand the surge of pleasure that sears through him. he just feels his balls twitch as he releases his cum, hot and sticking perfectly to your delicate insides. even when you’ve milked him for all he’s got his abs still twitch. his dick still pulses inside trying to shoot some more cum out, but there’s nothing. “missed daddy’s cock.” you moan out.

he wraps you up in his arms after you both came down from an incredible high, but he keeps himself nestled inside. he missed this type of warmth and he didn’t want it taken from him too soon. but keeping himself inside arouses him all the more, but he can contain it. for your sake he’d promise he’d go easy on you. “thank you, princess.”

“don’t thank me, silly.” you slightly turn your body back and squeeze his cheek. “it just feels like i fell in love with you all over again.” he smiles.

“don’t make me cry,” you giggle, “you know how easy it is to make me cry.”

“i know, let’s just lay like this for a little while. this okay?”

“mhm, it’s perfect.”

#nanami kento #nanami x you #nanami x reader #nanami smut #nanami x reader smut #nanami kento smut #nanami x black!reader #nanami angst #jjk smut #jjk angst

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emsgwenstan · 5 months

Text

Personal or professional?

Chap 3 | chap 4 | chap 5

Larissa Weems x fem(carpenter/joiner) named reader

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: alcohol, severe angst, longing, bodily issues.

Note: well… idk just read and find out there may be a lil x.

Larissa woke at 4am to start her day, for the first time in a while she hadn’t the energy to get up and be motivated, though, ultimately she did rise and started the monotonous process of her hair after she prepared a cup of tea to rest beside her on the counter in her bathroom. Larissa finished her hair and make up, she dressed and took her empty cup back to the kitchenette and for some reason she had forgone stepping into her office as of yet and opted to sit in bed with her laptop, even though it was only 6am.

It had been 3 weeks since the dinner at my house, Larissa and I had kept in touch from that time, especially since I needed to return her purse. She had come to the front of the school to retrieve the item and thanked me for the the trouble of driving it out to her, I brushed it off and said it wasn’t a big deal, any excuse to see or be near her was a blessing. Larissa opened messages on her phone to see if there were any missed phone calls or texts from any of her faculty or god forbid the board, but not only did she find a sum of ridiculous unanswered questions, I had sent a text to inform her that the cupboard’s are right to be installed and I’m ready whenever is a good time for her.

She replied with “Is today too soon?” And of course I was already loaded to go and told her the time I’ll be there, if it was fine with her of course. 3pm. She jumped of her bed and suddenly had an abundance of energy to burn, for the next six hours she would fly through all of the work she had been procrastinating on doing for the past week and eventually find herself for the first time in a long time out of paperwork, meetings and duties, until the next week obviously. Larissa had taken to going for a spontaneous walk through the school at the time students were doing their extra curricular activities and stopped at every one to greet students. She asked staff if anyone was in need of her assistance to which they all declined.

At 1:30 Larissa had ended up at the lake, she walked the length of the peer and inhaled a deep breath of cold air and let her tense shoulders drop back into a comfortable position, she checked her watch and debated on staying for a while longer or if she should get going, the latter was the choice she settled with. Some days Larissa wonders why she constantly chooses to wear dresses even in the winter, her only con is because she likes them, maybe I should wear pants, it might be warmer, definitely more suitable. What am I even thinking Larissa doesn’t do trousers in public. She thought to herself.

Back in the comfort of her office, she peeled off her gloves and stood so close to the fire she might have caught alight trying to warm up her ice cold hands, the only downside to this time of year to her apparently. Just as she was about to take a seat in her chair, her phone started ringing.

*Violet Hastings*

“Hello darling.” She answered.

“Hey… um im here, is there any easy way of getting the stuff inside before I make myself look like a fool and you tell me there was in fact an easier way.” I chuckled.

“Your parked at the front correct?” She asked.

“Yeah, just go up the stairs and down the corridor and take a left yeah? I only really know the way from your office.” I asked.

“Yes, do you think you’ll manage sweetheart?” She wondered.

“Of course I will, I’ll get into it and I’ll come get you when I’m done, does that sound alright?” I questioned.

“Sure, if there’s anything you need you know where to find me.” She said.

“Ok, I’ll see you later.”

“Bye.”

Larissa hung up and debated just coming to find me but decided not to be a bother and only come if needed. She sat in her office doing next to nothing, she even considered cleaning, but knew that everything was already spic and span, she knows that, otherwise she wouldn’t give extra pays the the ones who do the impeccable job of keeping her office, classrooms and the school in general tidy.

I haled all of the cupboards from the back of the trailer to their destination and stuck in to placing them on the kick boards screwing them to the walls and putting all of the shelves in them as well as all of the chrome handles on each door. The cupboards themselves were a mix of dark blue and grey, the handles were simple, but all together matched very well with the aesthetic of the rooms. It took only two hours to complete the six and with all of my tools and power cords packed up it was time to deliver the items for Larissa.

With no students around it was quite easy to manoeuvre the two huge items in and up the stairs. With a blanket tucked under my arm I knocked on Larissa’s door. “Come in.” She was sat in her chair with her laptop placed in front of her displaying the fourth round of solitaire. “Hey it’s just me.” I said stepping into the threshold, only opening the door enough to shimmy through so she didn’t see what was behind the doors. “How did you go?” She asked, closing her laptop and turning all of her attention to me. “Really good, all finished, but I’ve got your surprise with me so I’ll show you that first.” I said excitedly, rocking back and forth on my heels. “Do you now?” She questioned. “Yes and you need to close your eyes.” I said. Larissa gave me a hesitant look before finally closing her eyes. “No peeking! I mean it.”

Throwing the blanket in the floor, I turned and went back to the door opening both of them, quickly bringing them inside right in the middle of the room, I picked up the blanket and splayed it across the items. “Open.” I said looking at her. Larissa’s eyes fluttered open before her expression turned confused, she rose from her chair and rounded the table she was sat at. “What is it exactly?” She asked in a low raspy voice. “See for yourself.” I said taking a step back, only now is it that i find myself so incredibly nervous, I hope this isn’t to much, what if she hates them.

Standing fiddling with my hands, I cautiously watch Larissa as she takes slow steps toward whatever was beneath the fabric. She grasped the corner of the blanket and lifted it up gently revealing the vanity I agreed to give her and as told I fixed, well slightly tweaked, I had extended the legs, retouched the paint and polished the top. Larissa let out a breath that sounded like ‘oh’ and faced me with wide eyes. “Is that ok?” I asked. She nodded before saying anything. “I-I…” she started struggling to find words. “Violet.” She managed to whisper as she was taking her time to examine it again as if she hadn’t already seen it before. I wandered slowly beside her. “I know that it’s probably not really your thing but I just thought if you wanted to…” I leaned forward and winded the internal music box that’s located on the side.

The melody of ‘once upon a December’ emanated from within it. “I know it’s kinda sil-.” I said before she cut me off. “No.” I straightened up and looked at her. “No. This is… beautiful, truly.” She said. “You still have another one.” I spoke. Larissa moved a little closer to the next covered item, it was far larger than the vanity, she re-grasped the blanket and completely pulled it off. “Oh my god! Is this!…is this a desk!?- for me?” She asked excitedly, she dropped the cloth to the floor and was just about jumping for joy. “I thought you deserved a better one than that crappy thing you have, do you mind?” I asked. “Do I mind!? Are you serious! Look at it vi, it’s so big and gorgeous.” She giggled and clamped her hands on my shoulders shaking me a little. “Well it’s all yours, your very own big girl desk.” I laughed. “I don’t even know what to say, just- oh thank you darling I love it, I love it so so much.” She said wrapping her arms around me.

I pulled away and tried to hide my red cheeks, Larissa’s hands found purchase together against her chest and I could tell she couldn’t stop grinning. After a while we decided to completely remove her old shitty desk and put her new one in its place doing the same with her vanity. “Hang on, how the hell did you get these up here and in the room with me hearing it?” She asked out of nowhere. I should have been more noisy. “I don’t muck around Larissa, I’m quite strong.” I said hoping she doesn’t pick up on the small lie. Later on once everything was in its place, I led her back down stairs to show her the end result of the installations in the classrooms.

Larissa was ecstatic about all of the work I had done, she feels so greatfull for all the effort I put into each and every piece I had made. It was almost 5pm by the time I walked her up to her office, she couldn’t help but go and touch the desk yet again.

“Stay right here I’ll be back In one moment.” She demanded. I stood in front of the fireplace waiting for her to return from the doors attached to the wall of the office. She came waltzing out and made a b-line for me. “Hold out your hand.” She asked, I did as she requested and place my palm up in the space between us. Larissa laid three stacks of hundred dollar bills in my hand, my eyes widened in shock. “Is 10,000 enough?” She asked. “No.” I said mechanically. “No? Another five?” She asked. “Oh god no! Larissa I don’t want this I don’t want any of it, you’re supposed to give my boss the money.” I said still holding it. “I’ve already paid for the schools components, this is for the desk and vanity, I know how much the materials cost, mahogany isn’t cheep.” She said. I lifted my free hand to reach for one of hers placing the cash back in her hands. “I don’t want or need a dollar of it Larissa, their a gift, you don’t pay for them, the pieces I used were all recycled from past projects, they don’t have any value… but I appreciate the offer.” I said. “You’re being stubborn sweetheart.” She hummed leaning closer and shoving the money in the back pocket of my pants. I had to physically refrain myself from pulling it out and giving it back to her again.

“Would you like a drink? A big girl drink to celebrate my new big girl desk hmm?” She asked rounding me and walking to a cabinet, she pulled out a bottle of red and a decanter of whiskey. “I don’t know I’ll have to think about it… yep thought about it!” I said reaching for the auburn liquid. Larissa passed me a glass to pour the drink into, as well as getting a wine glass for herself, it wasn’t a surprise that she had an entire cabinet full of liquor in her office I know if I had to stress over a thousand students and deal with the shit she does, I’d have the same.

Larissa kicked off her heels being done for the day and stood in front of the fire place. Orange and pink hues lit up the sky outside with bits of blue and purple, the setting sun casting rays into the clouds like perfection, I walked to the bay window in the room and pulled the curtains away to get a better view, Larissa noticed me not being near her and faced my position, she gazed at my form and the way my head involuntarily rolled to the side in appreciation for the the sky. She quietly moved to be beside me, I could feel her presence but I didn’t face her. Still looking out the window, my lips twitched into a small smile, the feeling of gazing at something so beautiful whilst being in the company of someone who’s just as- if not more beautiful, felt delightful, felt wonderful, right.

“You look like you’ve never seen a sunset before.” She mentioned in a quiet voice just above a whisper. “I haven’t… well no, I mean not for a very long time, I always get to work before sunrise and after sunset, on the weekends I try sleep long enough in the morning and in the evening all my curtains are drawn, because of the position it sets.” I said still looking out the window. I could tell Larissa was staring at me but I didn’t acknowledge it. “It is stunning.” She said finally looking out the glass.

Returning in front of the fire place, I put down the glass of whiskey an turn to Larissa who perched herself on the arm chair she dragged over. “What now?” I asked almost solemnly. “What do you mean?” She questioned taking another sip of her drink. “Well I’ve never been this…close to a client before, the jobs are done, everything is paid for… Is this it?” I wondered out loud not necessarily asking her per se, I guess just coming to relise that this is probably the end of whatever kind of relationship we have. Is it personal or still professional?

“I don’t think i would just stop talking to you. We’ve become good friends Violet… don’t you think?” She asked. Good friends, somehow that felt like a kick in the guts, it’s not like… well nevertheless this is good, good friends right? Good good friends. “Yes I agree, it’s just that I don’t have a lot of time to see you, your very busy, I don’t want to burden you with being yet another person you have to talk to.” I said quietly. “Don’t say that, I enjoy your company and look forward to spending time with you.” She spoke. I picked up my glass once again and held it out in front of me. “To being friends then.” I jokingly toasted. Larissa mimicked my actions and we both drank more.

An hour later and two bottles down I was sitting right next to her in another chair, with my boots off and jumper discarded along with them. We shared conversation about her staff and my past colleagues before she changed the subject. “So tell me, what do I not know about you? Five things go.” She asked. “Oh fuck I don’t know, ooh sorry.” I apologised for my language, thank god she doesn’t hear the vile things I say at work. “Um… five things?” I said out loud, at this point I was tipsy and had trouble retaining things that won’t want her to know, just yet at least.

“Uhh, I’m 38. My birthday is this month. Um, my parents are divorced, but I’m sure you put two and two together, they have been since I was 3. I change my hair all the time and…. I adore all kinds of art, drawings, paintings, poetry, music, all of the above really.” I spoke, pouring another glass for myself and topping up hers while I was at it. “You?” I asked. “Wow, I do have questions.” She said. “Mmmm?” I hummed in waiting. “What’s the date of your birthday and what was your previous hair like?” She asked, swirling around the liquid in her glass. “My birthday is the 12th and my hair was dark brown and very long.” I stated. “I honestly can’t picture it.” She said. I laughed at her, I had to remember not to show her a photo.

“Enough about me though I wanna know about you.” I said. “Ok well I’m 48, and my birthday is the 24th of February. I was raised in a ridiculously lavish lifestyle that I don’t usually brag about, with both my parents. And… I’ve looked the same for years not very much has changed. I too love the arts, usually when I go back to London I visit lots of museums and spend hours a day just wandering around them.” She expressed casually. “You’re so… cool, really, you’re so lucky.” I said. “Why?” She giggled. “I don’t know, your freedom, your ability to be so free when you’re alone.” I said. “And your not?” She asked. “No.” I said not elaborating, wanting to move away from the subject.

“I have another question.” I asked. “You don’t have to answer, but if you went here and your the principal… does that make you an outcast to?” I questioned hoping not to seem nosy. “Yes… is that a problem for you?” She asked. “No!” I said a bit to loud. “Not at all, just, wondering… I think it’s extraordinary honestly.” I said hoping to easy her obviously defensive demeanour. “Sorry i shouldn’t pry.” I said. “It’s ok, I knew you would ask eventually.” She smiled. “If you don’t mind me asking- what, are you though, you don’t need to tell me I’m just curious.” I asked. “What do you think I am?” She wondered raising her brows with a smirk.

“Let’s see… I know you’re not a vampire- no fangs, not a werwolf- to tame, clearly not a gorgon- self explanatory, I know you don’t have telekinesis- not very Larissa, that leaves siren or a seer, but that’s still not right.” I said her face grew more amused indicating I’m right, I’m getting warmer. “I don’t think you’re very common… something special, different, rare perhaps.” I said, she slightly eased her shoulders, but shrugging trying not to give anything away. My eyes flicked down to her necklace while I was observing her state, a moment went by and Larissa could see the gears turning in my head, the longer I looked at it the more I realised how much she thinks I’ll never guess, little does she know that I can see her in plain sight. I snap my eyes to hers and grin not saying a thing.

The more I gazed into her eyes my smile spread and Larissa’s faded. “I know what you are.” I whispered. She scoffed in an attempt to make my decision falter. “You seem so sure.” She said. “I am.” I stated. “So what’s your conclusion?” She hummed. “You know it’s very clever to hide your identity you do it very well.” I said leaning into grasp the chain around her neck. “But not clever enough… remember when I said your necklace was personally made? I should have realised then.” I traced the metal with my thumb, my eyes boring holes into hers. “You my dear are a shapeshifter.” I said knowing I just won this twisted and unspoken game.

“Very good, your no fool.” She said averting her gaze and taking a large gulp of wine. I sat back relaxing against the back of the chair, my chest flushed and fluttering from the close proximity and the reality of the situation. “Do you have another secret I can know?” I asked randomly to break the silence, still up for conversation. “What kind of secret?” She questioned, seemingly un-apposed to continue. “how about love interest, anyone your interested in or have loved in the past?” I asked pretty care free, the alcohol clearly the one talking. “Oh god. No im not really interested in anyone im married to my career, past loves, that is a whole other story. A whole other story.” She said. “Tell me? Please?” I asked. “Well it’s complicated, maybe another time.” She said quietly. “No I respect that, but it always is isn’t it… complicated.” “Always.” She replied.

More hours went by just talking and drinking, it was never my intention to get drunk, just saying that sounds ridiculous, I hardly ever drink and when I do I still have a high tolerance, safe to say I’ve drank enough alcohol within a couple of hours to last a week’s hangover. Larissa was to, not that would ever admit, so much for me being the stubborn one, she was giddy though and I couldn’t stop laughing, if I was sober and sat back watching as a different person I’d be repulsed, but than again I don’t have it in me to care.

Thinking it was a great idea I stood and fell on my ass-Well my ass fell on her. I was trying to walk around Larissa but my knee gave way and I fell into her lap. “Shit! oh my god sorry.” I said laughing, Larissa wrapped her hand around me to stabilise, but she held onto my waist and wouldn’t let me get up. “It’s ok.” She said trailing her hand further to my hip. My cheeks burned, blushing like an idiot, Larissa didn’t say another word, her eyes flicking around the room, I could feel her stiffen as I tried to get up again, but she tightened the grip, her face to was a shade of pink I was lucky to see through the orange glow of the room. “Stay.” She said, but it wasn’t sexual or flirty in any manner, it almost sounded like a sad plea.

If she wouldn’t let me go I may as well get comfortable, I wrapped my arm around her neck and rolled my hips sideways so I was just about hugging her, I rested my head on my bicep and let my feet dangle over the side of the chair. “I’m really heavy, are you sure you’re ok?” I asked. “Yes.” She whispered her gaze now set on the fire, A minute later she spoke again. “You’re not heavy either.” She said. I could feel myself slightly sobering up and hear my heart beating In my ears. I lifted my head so my chin was resting on my arm as well as shifting my elbow manoeuvring my hand to gently stroke her hair. “God you’re so pretty, you know that.” I whispered accidentally letting it slip whilst looking in her dark blue eyes. She turned her head to look at me, her gaze unfaltering and expression melancholy.

Subtly moving again her shoulders caught my attention, how I didn’t notice before was beyond me. “Ohh, you have little freckles.” I said grinning using my free hand to trace her skin, halting my movements on her hair. “They’re like little stars kissing your skin.” I whispered, my eyes unable to retain the average amount of liquid as they became glassy from the heightened emotions, silly I know but for someone who hardly gets emotional over something someone else would find a common thing to be upset or happy about, it’s a big deal.

Larissa was feeling so many thing in that moment, although it was anything but relaxed, she was calm but also a bit nervous and insecure, for the longest time she hasn’t had the privilege of being called such nice things like pretty, or such admiration towards what’s she deems as flaws, because that’s what she saw and heard, admiration. She isn’t just looking in my eyes when I say them, she’s peering into my soul, finding nothing but kind and pure intentions behind every word. Many people thought she ought to be a cunning woman who’s only goal is to be in control and do what ever she can to get her way, in some aspect it was true but she wasn’t a horrid, selfish or malicious person, behind the layers of professionalism she was just Larissa Weems. Rissa. Just Rissa.

I hadn’t seen my oversized work shirt gape at the front, not until I relised Larissa was looking, but in her line of sight wasn’t my bra nor cleavage, it was the stretch marks. Once it clicked, I sat up and removed my arm from around her and shot up swaying a little. Larissa was startled at the sudden movement and stood, her brows came together in confusion and also fright, hoping that what she did wasn’t what scared you away, but she was wrong. Panic riddled my being, I was becoming short of breath and the alcohol didn't help. "I-I'm sorry Violet, please forgive me that was utterly wrong of me to do I apologise." She said fiddling with her fingers on either side of herself. "Please... please forget you saw them." I whispered just about inaudible, but loud enough for her to hear. "What?" She breathed. "I don't-I don't want you to see them." I said looking at my feet. "No I should have not been looking at your br-... oh... oh." She realised it wasn't what she thought, she did infact look at the marks but only for a moment not even long enough to process what she was doing, this is worse, Larissa's stomach churned and her heart tinged at the thought of me panicking because of natural marks on my skin. "Oh darling, I- I wasn't, I wasn't judging, please you have to believe me." She said taking a step forward, I took a step back.

I spun around and picked up my jumper and shoes off the floor and clutched the boots, throwing the piece of clothing on, I struggled for a moment before it finally slipped over my head. "What are you doing?" She asked. "I need to go, I need to go home." I said. "No please it's late, you've had to much to drink you can't drive... just... stay, you can stay here." She said hopefully. She could see my jaw tensing and it was making her more anxious. "Don't bite so hard sweetheart." She said knowingly. I did stop but I still debated just going home, call a cab or a fucking Uber and leave.

I let out a breath i knew i was holding and dropped my shoes to the side. Larissa did the same exhaling slowly, she took another step towards me so slow as if I'd run away if she moved to quickly. It didn't take long until she reached me and grasped my hand. "Come on I'll put you to bed." I absentmindedly flowed her to the doors that access her quarters. I didn't look around the only thing I saw was the floor and then the edge of the bed. Larissa sat me down and retrieved a pair of pyjamas, a glass of water and meds. "Here you can have these to change into, and have the tablets you'll feel ok in the morning." She had another set of tablets for herself and took them taking sip from the glass than passed it to me giving my own meds. "You don't mind that I had some?" She asked. "No I don't mind." I said with my voice breaking a little.

Larissa let me be to change and came back from her bathroom in her own pyjamas and her hair in a lose braid. She walked over to the other side of the bed and reached over to grab my clothes and place them on a nere by chair making sure to pull out the cash and wrap it into my jumper, when she came back Larissa grabbed a pillow and tucked it under her arm and grabbed the throw at the end of the bed. Turning off the large light and leaving on the lamp she paced to the doorway and turned around. "You think you will be ok?" She asked. "Where are you going?" I wondered. “I’m just going to sleep on the futon in the office.” She said as if I was supposed to know that. “No you’re not, you’re sleeping in your bed, I- I’m… not going to allow you to sleep elsewhere in your own home, otherwise I’m just going to leave, unless you want me to sleep out there.” I expressed. Larissa walked back towards the other side of the bed and threw the pillow and blanket back in place and ungraciously fell into bed. I sat up and pulled the covers over myself and her, I practically just tucked her in, making sure she had enough blanket and pulled it up and over her chest leaving her arm out, she was laying in her side facing me and eyeing my movements, curious, she thought.

In all honesty it’s been a very long time since I’ve consumed so much alcohol, I’m glad I don’t feel sick, a part of me is greatfull that I have an excuse to stay but another part is still trying to retreat. Don’t get too close, she will dispose of you, you know what happened last time Violet. Apart of me vaguely thought. Larissa was cautiously watching me as my brows came together in a distasteful manner she wondered what I was thinking, but failed to ask. I rolled over to turn off the lamp beside me and got comfortable again in my original position laying on my side to face her.

Mindlessly I reach for the hem of her satin sleeve on Larissa exposed arm, playing with it for a while I push it upward to reveal her freckled arms again, I can still see them, so clear, so golden in the silver moonlight. The domesticity of how uncannily stunning just one little part of her is, just about bring tears to my eyes. I trace over them again raising goosebumps to the surface of her skin, once I’d had enough and my arm was burning I let myself steal a glance at her, only to find Larissa had already been gazing at me. Feeling the blood rush to my face I went to turn over, however she stopped me from doing so by grasping my shoulder.

It wasn’t just me admiring, Larissa had watched the entire time I was kindly examining, she’s not sure why, but when I’m near her she can’t help but feel so secure, so safe, so… cared for. When she grasped my shoulder to stop me from rolling over, her fingers involuntarily gripped harder to feel the muscle she didn’t acquire, when she found herself doing it Larissa revoked her hand. Her hair is what I focused on, not wanting to hold eye contact, it’s the same colour as the moon itself, just as bright, just as alluring, I stretched out to move the loose bit of hair around her forehead and continued the path all the way to the end of her braid.

What surprised me was that she did exactly the same to me, brushing the bits of hair that had fallen from my ponytail out of my eyes and behind my ear. This time, I looked at her, I really looked at her, taking in every single detail of her face, every line and wrinkle, her eyes. I wish I could see her without makeup. She still adorned makeup but didn’t have her lipstick on, the red stain is what’s left. Larissa let me grab her cheek and stroke it, I ever so slightly brushed my thumb over her cheekbone caressing it carefully almost as if I would hurt her. “I’m scared, I’m so scared.” I said as a breathless whisper. Larissa stayed silent but I could see her wordlessly asking me to elaborate, I shouldn’t have let that out, she doesn’t understand what I mean, I hope she doesn’t, I don’t want her to.

Larissa’s eyes scanned over my features again and she let out a shaky exhale. “I know.” She said, well then. I closed my eyes and moved closer to rest my forehead against hers. Still stroking her face I jutted my chin forward slowly, only a strand of hair widths away from her lips, our breaths deep and thorough. I pulled away to ask permission, Larissa opens her eyes and nodded knowing what I wanted to ask. I leaned back in brushing her lips with my own, she didn’t hold her breath and embraced the moment, both of us letting it happen, Violet… Larissa had grasped my waist trying to pull me closer but I arched my back trying to move away from her touch. Stop now. I did everything to keep that fucking voice at bay, I want this, she seems to want this but I can’t do it. Kissing Larissa was the best experience, the softness of her lips, the alcohol I could taste, she was my every sense, touch, taste, smell, even with my eyes closed I could see her, hear her.

VIOLET STOP. Larissa’s hand just landed on my hip before I ripped away from her completely. I rolled over trying to catch my breath, guilt came gnawing, I squeezed my eyes shut so hard the insides of my eye lids became kaleidoscopic, Larissa was confused, had she done something wrong? Did i not want this? For a while she say laying in the same position just staring at my back, the way she felt so uneasy as to what to do now, does she leave? Does she stay? Her internal questioning was put to a slow when I reached behind me and found her hand, I intertwined our fingers and pulled her arm to wrap under my elbow.

Larissa let out a breath that ghosted over my neck and shoulder, releasing the pent up adrenaline. The longer we stayed there the more I let myself melt into her touch, my back against her front, the sound of her heartbeat. I wish I hadn’t done what I did, but I also know it was the right thing to do. Safe to say the both of us are snapped back to sober at this point and with the alcohol wearing off it won’t take long for sleep to overtake me.

In many, many years this will be the first time I go to bed and I’m not alone, I don’t need a pillow to give the support that isn’t enough, I don’t need back round noise to interject the raging thoughts and loneliness. I have her, I have Larissa, this may be the last time but I know to cherish every fucking second whether I’m in the waking world or not. Her embrace is comforting and gentle, her touch is soft and soothing, as of now I’m going to let myself succumb to sleep and work out what’s going on tomorrow. Once Larissa knew I was asleep she placed a kiss to my shoulder and whispered.

‘goodnight sweetheart.’

@lex13cm @im-a-carnivorous-plant @barbarasstar @giogwensversion @sabraaabra @readingtheentrails

#gwendoline christie #larissa weems #principle weems #wednesday #larissa weems x y/n #larissa x reader #gwenchrist(ie)#wlw fanfic #larissa weems x reader

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fandxmslxt69 · 2 months

Text

CLEM'S BIRTHDAY HANG OUT!!

Hello friends!

As March comes to an end (my birth month wooo) I thought it would be a fun idea to have a little hang out during the last week! So from March 25 - 31 we are PARTYING !

Sort of!

My askbox is open to all sorts of silly dilly fun time! This is my first little hang out so PLEASE BE KIND TO ME i'm just a silly girl who wants to make friends and have some fun! I'm also hoping this might get me back into writing!

Yes, the poster is all Loki NO HE'S NOT THE CENTRE OF ATTENTION!! Here's a little info I guess (I am just winging this as we speak, it is not very thought out):

Rules & Info

The event will run from 03/25 to 03/31 - you can send in as many asks and hang out as much as you would like!!! No I will not kill you if you drop a hello in my askbox start of April - to be honest, I love friends so I won't ever turn anyone away

You can stop by my askbox to say hi, share some thoughts (or thots...) tell me anything, or play a game! (will talk about that in a bit)

Anyyyyoneeee is welcome I don't care if we aren't mutuals or we don't even talk, STOP BY AND SAY HI :D If you are rude or disrespectful in any way, I will kick your butt and break your nose.

This is a positive, fun zone. I just want to have my fun and mind my business, please don't be trying to cause problems. I'm a relatively small blog so thankfully no one really looks my way but I've had some bumps in the past.

THIS IS MY FIRST TIME DOING THIS AND IM LITERALLY GOING TO DIE FROM NERVES SO BE PATIENT WITH ME OKAY

Games:

Fuck, marry, kill - send me any three characters that you want me to decide a fate for....oh my god please don't make me kill anyone I love dearly....

Blurbs!! - send me a little prompt/kink/thought & a character and I will try SOOOOO HARD to put out a little itty bitty something of writing! Like 500 words or so!! Can be fluffy or smutty. Angst is not allowed unless its just a LITTLE sad and with lots of fluffy stuff after

Character Association - tell me about yourself and let me give you a character. This is literally my favourite game ever, and I swear I'm super good at it

Book Recs - tell me your reading vibes/popular tropes you like and I will give you FIVE (not one, not two, but FIVE!!!) book recs because I like talking about books. If you show up talking about non fiction, then sorry but I am not your gal at all.

Chat - Come talk!! Come chat!! Come say hi and giggle with me about anything!! Come be crazy with me over narratives and themes and character arcs!!! Tell me about school or your day, your OCs, latest WIPs or anything currently on your mind!

Okay that's all I could come up with but literally any and all games are free game. I am keeping this as chill and lowkey as possible.

Characters/Fandoms:

You guys already KNOW my vibes and what I'm around and what I'm not, so feel free to send anything! I float around Marvel/DC (just send in any character and if I don't vibe with it I'll just let you know or leave it unanswered), I think it's obviously I'm Oscar Isaac obsessed....um. Pretty much anything. It's free game and I'll put my foot down if I'm down okay with something or don't want to answer :D

I'm..about to tag some friends...if that's okay...

@divine-knight-hand @romanarose @sarahscribbles @lokischambermaid @lokisgoodgirl @sailorholly @in-som-niyah @fictive-sl0th @mischief2sarawr @saturn-rings-writes @superficialdomina @planetwaynez...and I can't remember anyone else now I'm sorry LMAO

KISSES EVERYONE <3

Clem

PS: If you're worried whether I'm comfy or not or familiar with a character or not, just send it in anyway and we'll figure it out from there!

#if i did not tag you its either im going to harass you on discord or i forgot or im worried you'll think im crazy #which i may be a little bit but not entirely #kisses everyone (panicking going to throw up)#clem talks <3 #Clem's Birthday Hang Out #<- NEW TAG !!!!!!!!!!!#when this finishes maybe I'll finally get to updating and revamping my masterlist!!!!!!#jason todd #loki laufeyson #moon knight #dc #dick grayson #marvel #oscar isaac #joel miller

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sasheneskywalker · 3 months

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sladick explicit fic recs

To Conciliate a Tiger by Rubynye

Dick makes a deal. Slade gets a bargain.

E | Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Deathstroke/Nightwing, Slade Wilson/Dick Grayson

A Darker Stripe by Rubynye

It's been a long day, and it won't be over anytime soon.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Deathstroke/Nightwing, Slade Wilson/Dick Grayson

Twist in the Tail by Rubynye

Hell hath no fury like a supervillain scorned.

E | Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Deathstroke/Nightwing, Slade Wilson/Dick Grayson

Big, Bad by MissNaya

In order to keep Deathstroke from killing his current target, Dick has to agree to do something a little unorthodox.

E | No Archive Warnings Apply | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

Caught in Between by MissNaya

Dick, Jason, and Slade go cross-country in pursuit of a criminal they all have their sights set on. When Slade and Jason start to spend too much time together, Dick gets... frustrated.

E | No Archive Warnings Apply | Jason Todd/Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd/Slade Wilson

Moonbound by MissNaya

Not only is Jason a werewolf, but Slade is, too. Dick wants answers, but in order to get them, he needs to stay the night with the pack. It doesn't take long for him to find out that there's more to being a werewolf than hunting and howling.

E | No Archive Warnings Apply | Jason Todd/Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd/Slade Wilson

Merrier the More by MissNaya

Jason and Dick have a problem: Jason wants to teach Dick to come through prostate stimulation alone, but nothing they try seems to work.

Seems like it's time to bring in a third party.

E | No Archive Warnings Apply | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Jason Todd/Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd/Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd

bad desire by cheju

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Slade murmurs back absentmindedly, still focused on the knots at Grayson’s wrist.

Grayson makes another one of those sounds, somewhere between a gasp and a cough, like he’s trying to simultaneously swallow and eject something stuck in the back of his throat. “Jesus, kid, what the fuck is it this time?” Slade says.

“Yes,” Grayson chokes out. “What the fuck it is is yes, I’d like that, and stop asking me questions.”

Dick gets truth serum’d. Slade does not, in fact, stop asking him questions.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

a knife, baby, edgy and dull by cheju

Slade’s presence should be unsettling, and it is – don’t get him wrong. But it’s also finally something happening, a chance for Dick to work off some of this tension. He’d be lying if he said a part of him wasn’t itching for the fight he knows is coming.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

down together by cheju

I can help you, says Dick. I won’t let you, says Slade. Then they fuck nasty about it.

An alternate ending to Slade's attack on Titans Tower in Dark Crisis #2.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

listen to teeth by cheju

It usually goes like this: Slade teasing him, Dick responding in kind, until one of them backs down from the ledge they always seem to be teetering on. But today Dick is so not in the mood to be teased, still a bit prickly from his mission’s failure. Still trying not to think about how many bodies must be outside this room.

Dick's failing his mission, can't get out of his handcuffs, and guess who walks in the door. Just fucking guess.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

diesis by cheju

Dosed with Poison Ivy's pollen, Jason is losing control fast. Dick takes him to the closest safehouse he knows of and prays its owner won't show up. (His prayers go unanswered.)

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Jason Todd/Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

the paper-thin line by wingdingery

After Dick interferes with Slade’s job in Gotham (which, to be fair, he’d only done because Slade interfered with his first), he decides the best way to prevent future retaliation is to strike a deal: if Slade agrees to leave Gotham alone, then Dick will stay with him alone for one night, and no matter what Slade does, he won’t run.

Though that doesn’t mean Dick is going to go down without a fight.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

in the night we burn by wingdingery

Slade knows there’s no way in hell that someone like him should ever even dream about touching someone like Richard Grayson, and running into an alternate dimension version of them that’s for some godforsaken reason a couple isn’t going to change his mind.

Unfortunately, it seems like it might be changing Grayson’s.

E | No Archive Warnings Apply | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson/Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson/Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson/Slade Wilson

no stopping ('til I break every rule) by wednesday

Dick can hear Deathstroke lazily walking down the line of handcuffed, terrified hostages trying to shuffle back even closer to the wall. He already knows where this is going.

There’s not enough time to decide which would look less suspicious—looking up or not. Slade grabs Dick’s hair and pulls him up, leaving him no choice but to move forward until he’s kneeling at Slade’s feet. He can hear shuddery sighs of relief from the other hostages and can’t blame them.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

take the offer that wasn't made by wednesday

“That’s not what my contract is about.” Slade sounds out of breath, but not angry; if anything, he sounds smug. Dick’s thoughts screech to an unexpected halt. The arm around his neck tightens, making him lightheaded.

And for the first time since Dick found out Deathstroke had taken a contract in his city, Dick feels real panic, like white noise spreading through his veins. There’s a sting right above the collar of his costume, and Dick spends the last ten seconds before the tranquilizer knocks him out drowning in waves of fresh fear.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

put a gun in my hand by wednesday

“Uh oh,” Nightwing says when he looks up and sees Slade. He freezes, halfway to pushing himself up off the now unconscious guard. “Oops?”

Slade growls at him and wishes he didn’t have his mask on so Grayson could see exactly how close to murdering him Slade feels. Except not, because his mask is covered in splashes of the drugs that were supposed to be his paycheck and are now a collection of broken glass and violently luminescent slush.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

in every end (we start) by wednesday

At first, when he gets dragged downstairs and towards a metal door that screams cell, he’s relieved. They’ll leave him alone and he’ll be out in no time. Easy.

Then the badly suppressed fear and nervousness of the alpha guard a few feet away from the door registers. Followed by the impressive blood splatters on the floor and walls.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

this vice, this temptation by wednesday

Dick gets drugged during a party and finds a solution that might be his worst idea yet. But really, staying in the company of Deathstroke should work wonders at keeping everyone else away.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

counting all the lines (all your sweet lies) by wednesday

“Slade!” Dick exclaims cheerfully, and feels his own grin widen at the choking noise behind him. He sashays right to Slade’s table. “Fancy meeting you here!”

“You do not want to do that,” Slade says quietly enough that only Dick can hear him. He looks amused, though, and a quick look at the table makes it clear he’s eating alone. Perfect.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

can't help but be wrong in the night by wednesday

“Richard,” says a familiar voice to the accompanying tune of irregular gunshots. The shock of hearing this particular unexpected voice makes Dick overbalance and roll off the cushions and right onto the floor.

A burst of what sounds like machine gun fire brings him back to the real issue.

“Slade?” he asks, feeling a completely reasonable amount of apprehension settle in his gut. It can’t be anyone else, but Slade Wilson calling him doesn’t seem very plausible. The background noise is a cause for concern as well, but not more than the call itself.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

Interlude by wednesday

On one hand, Slade has done his part as agreed, and owes Grayson nothing. On the other hand, Nightwing’s been less annoying than usual, and gracefully agreed to not involve the Bat, who would have snarled and bitched about Slade anywhere near his territory and fucked with his contract on principle, so Slade is feeling charitable.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

Play-acting by wednesday

Dick being undercover as omega goes a lot further than planned.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

placed a gamble by wednesday

It’s clear the kid realizes he’s made a mistake the moment the cuff clicks closed on Slade’s wrist. Cuffing them together is inventive, Slade will give him that, but there’s a reason no one else has tried restraining him in this particular way.

---

Deathstroke and Nightwing, handcuffed together in a snow storm.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

Break the Fall by wednesday

Getting rescued does not make Dick's situation better, not at first.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

for every mistake by wednesday

His first mistake, and Dick should absolutely have known it would end up being a mistake the moment he thought of doing it, is inviting himself back to Slade’s safehouse.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

shimmer silent by wednesday

Slade doesn’t stop at just crowding. He invades Dick’s space until there’s no air left between them. Until he’s pressed against Dick, tightly, shoulder to thigh. And kisses Dick.

Well, kiss isn’t an adequate description of the mess of violence, lust and tongue that happens. And biting. There’s biting going on, and that’s what kind of shocks Dick back into action. He bites back and pushes Slade away. What the hell?

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

still counting on my worst behavior by wednesday

Two steps from the door he freezes. There’s a feeling of being watched that he’s too well trained to miss. He puts on his friendliest smile and turns around.

“Looking for something, kid?”

Deathstroke in full armor, just the mask missing, is standing across the room, hands crossed and looking at Dick.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

ain't lived if you've got no regrets by wednesday

Around the time he’s trying to decide if some friendly chatting would make his chances of escape better or much worse, something smashes through the roof of the warehouse.

Someone, he realizes just a moment later. Before that someone even hits the ground, Dick recognizes him and regrets the lack of a panic button an order of magnitude harder. Because he can definitely feel some panic right about when Deathstroke starts shooting while still airborne.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

Sabotage by wednesday

Too exhausted to fight, Dick discovers there is another way to distract Deathstroke from his contract. He really should have stopped after the first time.

***

Five times Dick uses unconventional sabotage methods and one time he doesn't.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

turn up the cards by wednesday

Dick smiles at the frazzled-looking girl by the register, most likely unused to the influx of customers that keep coming in and not leaving. He’s about to order, when he notices the one table that only has a single customer sitting at it. There’s a buffer of space around him, like everyone can feel some kind of aura of danger surrounding him and are choosing to keep their distance from him, from—a man with white hair.

Goddamn.

The warm cozy holiday-like feeling Dick was getting into evaporates.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

my lucky stars by withthekeyisking

Dick ruins one of Deathstroke's contracts, costing the mercenary half a million dollars. And Slade is damn sick and tired of Nightwing always getting in his way. Seems it's time to teach the little bird a lesson that might actually stick.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

The Irony of Life by withthekeyisking

Dick starts working at the strip club because of a case; he doesn't expect to run into Deathstroke the Terminator of all people while working.

Slade just wants to do his damn job; he's not expecting the perk that comes with it.

E | Underage | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

More Than What You Paid For by withthekeyisking

Slade only wanted to scratch an itch after a very long and grueling job. He didn't expect to have to face an assassination attempt from a prostitute.

E | No Archive Warnings Apply | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

Easily Worth by withthekeyisking

Dick is desperate to rescue his brother.

Slade is...an option.

E | No Archive Warnings Apply | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

Close Encounters by withthekeyisking

Running into Deathstroke at a BDSM was not the plan, but it seems to have an upside.

E | No Archive Warnings Apply | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

Guys My Age by withthekeyisking

Dick enjoys his frenemies with benefits arrangement with Midnighter. He enjoys the same such arrangement with Slade. He never thought it would be possible to mix the two, but it seems they're full of surprises.

E | No Archive Warnings Apply | Dick Grayson/Midnighter/Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson/Midnighter

A Little Touch of Skill by withthekeyisking

When Dick and Slade run into Rick Flag while working on a joint mission, Dick sees no problem with teaming up with the man, considering they're all going after the same target. He should've accounted for Slade's possessiveness, though.

Or maybe he should've just relied on Slade's competency kink smoothing everything over.

E | No Archive Warnings Apply | Rick Flag/Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Rick Flag/Dick Grayson, Rick Flag/Slade Wilson

Eyes on You by withthekeyisking

Dick is counting the seconds until this mission is over and he can get the hell away from Deathstroke and Talia al Ghul, and all the danger and weird flirting therein.

The hotel they stay in the last night of their mission only has one bed, but that won't have any impact on the situation, right?

E | No Archive Warnings Apply | Talia al Ghul/Slade Wilson, Talia al Ghul/Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

A Memorable Send-Off by Skalidra

The first that Dick hears of the contract out on Nightwing's head, it's at the end of a long night, and with Slade's gun in his face. Slade doesn't have any intention of letting someone else claim the reward, but there's still a chance for Dick to make it out of the whole situation. If he can be... distracting enough.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

Scripted Negotiations by Skalidra

The film was only ever supposed to be a one time thing, for Dick. An exorcism of one of his darkest teenage fantasies, played out in a relatively risk-free setting to get it out of his system, so he can put it behind him. Nothing was ever actually going to happen with the real Deathstroke, and no one else would ever find out about it. Problem solved.

Until he gets an offer to film a sequel.

(Slade's not expecting to find the real Nightwing starring in some C-grade porn flick, but when an opportunity drops itself in his lap like that, well... How can he not take advantage?)

E | No Archive Warnings Apply | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

Taking Charge by firefright, Skalidra

Jason has a strict policy when it comes to his clients: no surprises. But there's one, Slade Wilson, who always seems to delight in pushing his boundaries. Never more so than when, on what should be an ordinary appointment, he brings along his partner, Dick Grayson, without calling ahead. One alpha at a time Jason can handle, but two? That might take a little more work.

E | No Archive Warnings Apply | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Jason Todd/Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd/Slade Wilson

Accidental Discovery by firefright, Skalidra

“Jason,” Dick says slowly, a little dazed as he straightens back up from retrieving Jason’s phone after accidentally knocking it down onto the carpeted floor of his safehouse, “Why do you have Slade Wilson’s number saved on your phone under the name ‘Daddy’?”

E | No Archive Warnings Apply | Dick Grayson/Jason Todd/Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, Jason Todd/Slade Wilson

Takedown by Sandrine Shaw (Sandrine)

Deathstroke's heavy armor digs painfully into the sore muscles of Dick's back, flattening him against the bricks. Caught, literally, between rocks and a hard place.

Under Dick's ribs, his heart beats a frantic song of fear and exertion.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

he who thinks he knows no fear by Sandrine Shaw (Sandrine)

That dizzying sensation that feels a little like stepping up onto a platform to take a leap without a net underneath isn't quite fear, and Dick likes the thrill too much not to chase it.

Four times when Dick isn't afraid - even though he should be - and one time he is.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

Mutually Beneficial by Sandrine Shaw (Sandrine)

"Slade? What the—"

"Quiet," he orders, not bothering with an explanation.

He clamps his hand around the back of Grayson's neck and gives it a rough squeeze in warning. Under his thumb, he can feel the kid's pulse jump, fast and erratic like a bird.

E | No Archive Warnings Apply | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

A Very Good Bad Thing by Disniq

"Dick should… He should go. He should—

But… that’s Slade. Wilson. And Dick… Dick can’t leave Jason alone with Deathstroke the fucking Terminator.

Pressing back into the shadows, Dick reassures himself that he’s just making sure his brother is safe.

That’s all."

E | No Archive Warnings Apply | Jason Todd/Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd/Slade Wilson

Warm Me Up In A Nova's Glow by Disniq

Initially, Jason had thought having Nightwing tag along with Red Hood and Deathstroke would put a damper on what is usually an unrestrained riot of a time, but it turned out he was worrying over nothing.

And Jason has never been happier to be wrong.

For DickJay Week 2023 - Day 1 prompt: Praise Kink

E | No Archive Warnings Apply | Dick Grayson/Jason Todd/Slade Wilson

“What more do you want?” Dick croaks. His eyes look even shinier than they were just a moment ago as he gazes up at Slade, but it could be a trick of the light.

Open up and swallow on your knees by Naphorism

“It’s just business, kid.” Slade shrugs, brushing his fingers through Dick’s hair with surprising gentleness. “A deal’s a deal. You give me something, I give you something.”

“What are you willing to give?” Slade counters with a smirk, the camera behind Dick catching the mean glint in his eye in perfect resolution.

“Anything.”

E | Rape/Non-Con | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

E | Rape/Non-Con, Underage | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

The thing that keeps you up at night by Naphorism

When Dick falls asleep, Robin dreams.

For the SladeRobin Week prompt Same Dynamic Omegaverse.

Slip ‘n’ Slide by Nightwang

“The first thing Slade noticed was that his safehouse had been broken into. The second was the smell - rich caramel and underneath something a little spicier that he couldn’t quite identify. Omega. An in heat omega.”

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

For the SladeRobin Weekend prompt Omegaverse

Ready or Knot by Nightwang

"Dick wasn’t quite sure how he’d ended up here, in a safe house on the edge of Bludhaven with Slade Wilson pressing him up against the wall, but he wasn’t complaining."

E | No Archive Warnings Apply | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

#dc #dc comics #batman #dick grayson #nightwing #slade wilson #deathstroke #sladick #sladedick #sladin #dickstroke #fanfic recs #fanfic rec #fic recs #fic rec #fanfiction #fanfic

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