#and then guy moves to marriage and is all 'well my entire family is religious' n my mom and sister (who's 16) would be putting pressure on | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

furggot · 1 year

Note

pls write a fluffy morning with john ward x gn!reader

make them married and have breakfast together‼️🌹

Absolutely! I wrote this on my birthday

John Ward X GN! Reader

You two have known each other for years. At some point, you both gained a crush on each other. It took a while for him to realize he shared feelings for you, like several years. He gravitated towards you in almost any situation. He at first believed his mind defined you as his bestest buddy, and that this ‘friendship’ was, well, friendship. It went on for a painfully long time. You knew you had a crush on him, but you were too stubborn to make the first legitimate move, as much as you adored him.

It took until later into high school that he realized he like-liked you. It was the biggest Ah-hah moment of his life. This Christian boy kept away from any sexual contact whatsoever, and you were the same even if you weren’t religious. You respected his religion, even if you didn’t entirely follow it. You both we mostly still behaved like best friends, aside from the kissing and other romantic gestures and cuddling.

In college, you both shared any free time. You both tried to get into mostly similar classes. You both were the college lovebirds that everyone would see. Unlike your guys’ classmates, you both still didn’t have sexual experience with each other. You both were lucky enough to share a dorm, sharing the bed and many other things with each other. He had a little Bible by his bed to read over if you were doing something without him. Other than a Bible, he’d read other books too, unless he had more homework to do. You had your own hobbies all the same, if it was related to the outdoors, he liked to join you. It was pretty relaxing, and kept him from obsessing with the school work.

When you both graduated college, you both got married as soon as you both could save up for it. Plenty of your relatives were happy to attend your marriage (unless your relationship with your family is fucked). You two danced and enjoyed your time in the church John planned the marriage to take place. He had no family to invite, unfortunately, only a few friends you two shared.

With the process of him becoming a priest, he had to keep you out of peoples’ business. Aside from himself trying to get you more into his religion and meeting church friends. You’d attend his specific church and drive him home if his car would break down or simply wouldn’t start. John is more than happy to ride with you, or have you ride with him. (I’m not sure how living like a priest goes, but I’m pretty sure they’re not allowed to be in romantic/sexual relationships for reasons I can’t remember).

At church, when kids have birthdays, someone would pay clowns to come over. John would call for you quickly because he has coulrophobia/a fear of clowns. If he saw the clown, he would end up unable to breathe and shaking like a cold puppy. If you were stuck at your job, you’d simply leave with no hesitation. You didn’t care what your boss would say to you later, you just hope they’ll understand when you tell them.

After a long day of him being tormented by the presence of clowns and bringing him home, you helped him to bed to hold him and gently play with his hair. This always seemed to calm him down. “…Thank you” Your beloved broke the silence. “Anytime. Now.. do you want something to eat? It’s still before noon, so I think we can have some breakfast, if you’d like.” “…Yes please” John smiles a bit, his breathing back to normal. He sat himself up then stood up with you, following you to the kitchen.

“I can make something for us. Do you want pancakes?” John thought for a moment. “Actually, may I make something? That might make me feel better” “Of course, silly” You let him take the wheel on it. “Other than the.. thing..” He avoids triggering himself “Today was okay. The kids were behaved, and the adults the same. No fighting or rude interruptions so far, and I thank the lord for that. I thank the lord for you.” He walks over to you to give you a kiss. “By the way, I’m making waffles.” John let out a little giggle, as if he was merely a boy, your boy. “I love you too, dingus” You flirted, pulling him by his collar to kiss him yourself. “Now go make your silly little waffles!” You spoke in a playful tone, and he responded with another giggle. You love this goofy boy so much.

After he made you both something to eat, you both sat just across from each other, simply enjoying each other’s company and the meal. “This is lovely, love. You gotta cook for us more!” “It felt fun to do, so I probably will cook more. It was pretty relaxing too, I think.” John admitted, seeming as he said relaxed.

“Either way, I’m happy you’re feeling better. I know fears can eat at you, and lately you’ve been having nightmares. I just want you to be happy and carefree. I don’t know what I have to do to get that freedom for you, but I’ll do whatever I must to help you, John. I love you.” After finishing your meals, you both go to clean each other’s dishes, both sharing a kiss before he has to go rest.

#john ward #faith game #john ward x reader

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hekates-corner · 5 months

Text

Apothecary Diaries | WN Translation | Arc 9 - Chapter 10

Hi, however you came across this: Welcome!

For a number of reasons I ended up here - I relay all that happens in the chapters, playing wine-aunt, as I translate to the best of my abilities.

So, be warned, all the spoilers are down below.

New here? Feel free to check out the Masterlist!

Enjoy!

Warning: I said in the masterlist that I'd give triggers if there were any - the following chapter contains brief mention of everything mentioned before in canon & worse, while at other times you can guess more bad things that happened.

As far as I could gather, this chapter is told entirely by Nenshin, there's not even any interruptions to the madness & honestly, I'm not sure it had to be that loaded with triggers.

Triggers mentioned flat out: stillborn baby, murder, starving, a dead child, animal abuse, eradication of a tribe, selling of that tribe's children into slavery, abducting the women for marriage. cann-balism, which happened & was intended to happen again. extortion, human trafficking. people accidentally setting themselves on fire, everything being eaten by bugs + the feeling of being swallowed by a giant bug. killing of religious figures.

Triggers more than heavily implied: the abducted, forcibly married women "got pregnant", if you get my hint.

None of this is gone into much detail, it's more of rapid fire mention of all of that, for the entire chapter.

This is also not my usual "I give you the tea" post, it's pretty much a 1:1 of the actual WN chapter.

For those that maybe don't feel comfortable reading this chapter, I will try & put a brief summary, if the plot is needed, in whatever chapter it's needed in.

Chapter 10 | Nenshin's folktale

50 years ago there were more than twice as many nomadic people as there are now.

I’m also one of them, and I was born into a tribe that was more of a militant group. It may sound good to call them militants/armed warriors, but at worst they were bandits. They would usually keep livestock - but if they wanted a bride, they'd often just abduct women from other tribes or settled villages. On the other hand, they also had side jobs such as extortion or human trafficking.

Hey, don't glare at me. I think/know it was bad. At the time, I had no doubts, I thought that's what life was supposed to be like.

Well, let's continue this story.

I was still a young teenager, but my archery skills were bought by the chief. He(?) even participated in the robberies. It was worse to be beaten - that was the arrogance of the side that was always winning.

That arrogance was widespread throughout the tribe.

One day the chief's son spoke up. “I want a girl from the wind-reading tribe.”

The tribe of wind readers, you know. They were like priests who were in charge of the rituals of the entire grasslands, so to speak. They kept birds and moved around the grassland reading the wind. Many of them were intelligent enough to guess the weather exactly for the entire year.

There was a silent understanding/agreement even among the nomadic people, who had many wild animals: Do not mess with the wind tribe.

Our tribe broke that.

We attacked the wind-readers tribe, in order for the chief’s son to marry the next head of the wind-reading family. They were in the middle of a ritual, so they had no weapons such as bows or arrows. What did they have? Oddly/funnily enough all they needed for their ritual was a tame bird and a hoe.

The women followed/led the birds, the men dug up the soil.

You probably don’t know what that means. But that’s called a ritual. “He(?) looks like a farmer/peasant”, the chief’s son said. “Kill him/take him out”, he said.

I tightened my bow. The arrow flew with a bang, drawing an arc, then it hit the head of the chief of the wind-reader tribe.

That was the start of the war.

It didn't take any skill to kill these guys who didn't have any kind of weapons and were just digging up the ground. It was like chasing an injured deer.

After everything was over, I realized that the looting at that time was the worst thing I had ever done in my life.

He(Nengen’s chief?) had no hesitation in killing those who were respected as priests. In fact, it was worse than what he’d usually do. I guess it was the fear of having killed a priest. Maybe he thought that if he left the priest alive, he would tell God about it.

All grown men were killed. Only the young women were left behind. The kids were sold as slaves and the birds they kept became our dinner.

It’s a disgusting story. But that’s what I did. There was even a kind of elation.

That’s why I didn’t realize it at the time.

One dull bird was pecking at the ground during the looting. I didn’t care and gave it a kick. Later I found out that it was eating the seeds of disaster.

Since, our tribe has done whatever they wanted, more than ever before. The chief’s son abducted the wind-reading tribesman’s daughter, and the daughter conceived a child. It came around the time the daughter became/was pregnant with her second child.

A black shadow filled the plains. At first I thought it was an out-of-season rain cloud, because the black color looked like it had been painted over with charcoal.

My ears were ringing. The livestock astir. The children huddled close together in fear, the women embracing them.

The man, who said he was going to take a look, returned a short time later with his horse, looking lifeless. His clothes, skin and hair in tatters. The horse was agitated, it took a while for it to calm down. The man had marks, like something had bitten him, and I asked what had attacked him.

You guys look like you already know what’s coming. But please, let me talk. The people in the village don’t believe this story at all.

I didn’t even need to ask the scout.

It quickly caught up to our camp.

Insects. An uncountable number of insects. Locusts.

The loud sound of wings and the harsh sound of chewing. It attacks the tent.

The sheep that were grazing were startled and scattered - and the dogs could do nothing but howl, like they’d lost a fight, with their tails tucked between their legs.

The men brandished their swords erratically. You can’t even knock them down like this. But the biggest mistake was waving the torches around. The flying locusts that were set alight would jump/land on the men, causing even more disaster.

I didn’t understand why, so all I could do was crush the locusts on the ground. Each one is about two inches(5cm) long, but at the time we were being eaten by the belly of one giant bug/locust.

The women and children were hidden inside the tent, but more and more came through the cracks. The kids screamed from inside the tent. Their mothers can’t even calm them down and start screaming. They began cursing the men who couldn’t protect their families from flying locusts. The women, who had been kidnapped and forced into marriage, were so desperate that they revealed their true feelings.

The locusts weren’t satisfied with just grass, so they devoured all our food.

Wheat, beans, some vegetables, even the dried meat was chewed on. The tent had holes in various places and after the insects left, the bodies of exhausted, screaming people and countless locusts were left behind.

Everything was eaten up. Livestock fled.

They managed to catch a horse to head to the village to get some food. Since we’re bandits, they chose someone with an unscathed face. They chose—

As soon as I got close, I was shot with an arrow. I never thought someone would shoot me without them even checking who it was. My friend, who was late to escape, was left behind. I could do nothing but show my back to him as he reached out his hand and hung onto it.

When I looked back, the villagers had recovered their companions and the horses they were riding/When I looked back later I saw that the villagers had recovered the horses their friends and associates were riding.

If you think about it you’ll understand. Our tribe wasn’t the only one starving after being attacked by locusts.

I prayed that the friend I had abandoned would at least die without suffering. I thought it was inappropriate for us, who killed the priest’s tribe, to pray.

With nothing to eat, we killed the few remaining cattle. There were times when I would add grass to the soup and get an upset stomach. The hungry children ate the fallen locusts, but one of them died. Either the locusts were poisonous or they ate the legs without shredding them. They were undernourished and very emaciated. If there’s not enough food, the weaker individuals die first.

Moreover, it was natural for pregnant women, who needed more nutrition than anyone, to become weak.

On her body, only her belly is swollen. Although she was in the position of being the next chief’s wife, she was unable to eat properly after that tragedy. The first child clinging to her, sucking his thumb to disguise his hunger.

It was obvious that the baby was stillborn.

The chief’s son was disappointed in his second child. To add insult to injury, his wife was dying after giving birth.

“You guys interfered with the ritual. There are no more people holding the wind-reading ritual. The people of the grassland will continue to be threatened by insects for eternity.”

For several years, the people of her tribe were brutally murdered and kidnapped. Those were words that she had been holding in for a long time. The woman laughed loudly and died, holding her dead baby and the emaciated child in her arms.

As the woman said, it turned out that the cause of this disaster was our tribe’s punishment for disrupting the ritual.

Our tribe was hunted down as a common enemy of the grasslands.

I can only say that it was our own fault. Still, we were determined to live.

We ate grass, ate insects, sometimes we killed or were killed and running away.

A starving man ate the flesh of his dead companions. Not content with just that, he tried to kill even the living. My left eye is (gone) because the guy who tried to eat me shot an arrow into it. I pulled out an arrow on the spot and fired back at him.

I ran away because I didn’t want to eat or be eaten. As I ran, I found nothing and was starving and dry. The smell of barley porridge led me into the city.

The porridge that was prepared by the lord’s blessings, and was so salty that you could mistake it for cattle feed, was delicious.

I was a dirty mess, covered in tears and snot, and was immediately arrested by the guards. Apparently someone in town knew of me being a robber. I had no intention of resisting or anything, and even thought it would be better if I could just eat in prison. All I was looking forward to was seeing how many meals I could eat before I was hanged.

But they never put a rope around my neck.

What I got instead, was the amputation of the finger that draws the bow. And then I became a serf. I still think it was a rather lenient punishment, considering what I’d done.

Even the feudal lord knew about the wind-reading tribe’s ritual. The reason why they were able to eat while continuing to hold meaningless rituals was because the lord protected them. The ritual, which was thought to be meaningless, turned out to have meaning.

Hm, what do I mean by lord? You know, the now defunct dog clan. This was a time before upstarts like Gyokuen emerged.

The dog clan knew about the ritual of the wind-reading tribe. So they decided to have serfs take the place of the wind-reading tribe by placing them in different parts of the country.

Unfortunately, all I can do is till the soil. It seems that even the dog clan wasn’t sure if they could control the birds. All they had were chicken. (idk why but this paragraph is just a mess to translate)

You’re right. I’m being kept alive just to hold rituals. A sacrifice called a serf/I’m a sacrifice in the name of serfdom.

This is the village that these sacrifices created. The mausoleum next to the house is to worship/enshrine the wind-reading people we killed. So I paid the price for killing the priests, for calling in the disaster, with my small life. No matter how you look at it, for those around me it probably isn’t worth it/From the perspective of those around me, I don’t think it’s worth it.

Well, that was until 17 years ago.

With the dog clan gone, the serfs disappeared as they pleased. Some of these idiots have returned to the thievery family business. Because they’re used to being vandals. Hmm, it looks like you’ve run into bandits.

Eh, why did I stay?

Well, I don’t want to be eaten by locusts again.

Never again……..

Well, the old story goes like this/Well, so much for the long old story.

Do you have any questions?

| Notes & Chapter 11

I feel like this chapter took the part of my soul that at long last restored after reading the faces scenes in TGCF by MXTX and lit it up xD

Jokes aside, this was a pretty tiring chapter to translate. There are no comments or reactions from the other characters at all, the only 3(?) lines said by anyone other than Nenshin were that of the chief's son and his forced wife.

That said, I think I got most of the past and present tense right, the they vs I should be fine too - it's a bit tough with just one character doing all the talking though.

This is a strange, heavy chapter for sure. I hope you enjoyed either way. Stay safe!

#kusuriya no hitorigoto #the apothecary diaries #hekates apothecary

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sirchicle · 1 year

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tw: vent, homophobia, anti-abortion mention,religion and politics mention.

I feel so frustrated and sad and angry and hopeless and helpless right now.

I was eating dinner at the table with my mom,my aunt,my aunt's fiance and my little cousin.

some hotdogs from the place we always buy from when we can, I forgot to tell them to not put onions on mine so I had to eat it with them,a bit unpleasant but bearable.

then my aunt's fiance started talking about politics (of my country) and that can never go well but as always I just tried to eat faster and quietly. He started talking about this one politician and how he doesn't like that she's pro-abortion and pro-gay marriage, which, y'know, I was annoyed at,but then again, he's a cop and ACAB and all that,so I was more "disappointed but not surprised" than anything (the guy seemed decent at first, but wanting to marry my aunt after seeing how she really is in itself is a red flag)

and then suddenly, my aunt was saying how this other politician hated homosexuals fiercely and how that was the only thing she liked of him.

now that, that got me.

I successfully remained calm on the outside,but as soon as I came to my room, I broke off crying.

the fact that my aunt said that so casually with a smile on her face, and that my mom,who knows I'm bisexual said absolutely nothing just, really ruined my day (and it had been going nicely enough)

and in the topic of my aunt, she's something I'd like to call "religiously homophobic (or we'll,more accurately,queer phobic)" which means people who believe, y'know "God created men and women blah blah blah" bullshit.

I still can't hate her completely, because I love her, I love my family, I hate that so much because I'm trans and bi and multiple other queer things and my family it's stopping me from being my most authentic self.

well not only them,the world too. my horrible queerphobic country where the only ""good"" thing is that being queer is not illegal,but where little kids know queer people by slurs first gay second,where being queer means you're either fetishised,ridiculized, outcasted,abused or all of the above.

It's so frustrating that, if I wanted to completely distance myself from people who are homophobic,no matter how little, I would end up with almost nobody.

I feel so so lonely.

I also feel scared,for myself, and for my little cousin who no matter what I do will end up listening to her mother and step-father and grow up hearing all of that, I'm scared because all I can do is show her cartoons like she-ra and the owl house to make her see that it's okay to be queer,but I don't know if that would be enough, I'm scared because I've lived with her her entire life but I know my aunt and her husband have plans to move somewhere else and I won't be able to reach her as easily as I can now.

I'm so frustrated and my head hurts and I feel so much impotence.

#vent #tw homophobia #cw religious mention #queer #lgbtqia

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beholdthemem · 2 years

Conversation

Travis(Stiff but polite): Campbell.

Ash(Cautiously curious): ...Phelps.

Travis(Uncomfortable): I... I know we don't talk much, but I need help with something, and Sal said I should come talk to you.

[Ash looks momentarily surprised, then reaches into the trunk of her car, rummaging around for something. Travis watches her in bemusement, then gives a double take when she finally pulls out a shovel.]

Ash(Handing the shovel to Travis while hunting for another): A bit short notice, but no biggie, I've got you covered-

Travis(Bewildered): Wha- no!

Ash(A little taken aback): Oh. Not that kind of problem, huh? Hang on-

[She takes the shovel, puts it back in the trunk, and then pulls out a canister of gasoline instead.]

Travis(In disbelief): NO.

[Frowning, Ash puts the canister away, and then pulls out a baseball bat.]

Travis(Incredulous): Why do you have- no, not that kind of problem either!

Ash(Tossing the bat back into the trunk in disgust): Okay, if this is for something boring, you're gonna need to find someone else-

Travis(All in one breath): I NEED YOU TO PISS OFF MY FAMILY.

Ash(Pausing mid-complaint, suddenly intrigued): ...go on.

Travis: My dad's having this family dinner for the first time since I moved out, and he's inviting a bunch of relatives from out of town, so we have to look like everything's FINE over here, and we all still get along. And since they're all conservative homophobes who hate me and expect everyone to be well on the way to marriage by 18, he told me that I'd better bring a date- a WOMAN- or else.

Ash(Beginning to see where this is going): Mm.

Travis: And Sal said that since you thrive on spite and... have apparently been kicked out of multiple religious organizations?... you would probably enjoy this.

Ash(A chaotic glint in her eyes): Will SHE be there?

Travis(Taking a moment to work out who Ash might be referring to): Who- oh. The aunt I told you guys about who slut-shames women for wearing leggings as pants? Yes. Linda will be there.

[Ash's entire face lights up.]

Ash(Two days later, bursting in to the Phelps family dinner alongside a vindictively cheerful Travis, decked out in a corset top, thigh high boots, and- you guessed it- leggings): LINDA! I've heard so much about you, I feel like we're practically friends already. How am I? Oh, I'm fantastic, I've had a really full week of watching anime, believing in science, dancing naked under the full moon-

#sally face #ashley campbell #travis phelps #source: sea.ya.later

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dickspeightjrs · 4 years

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It’s Just a Little Crush (au / 2.2k words)

Prompt 7 from my ‘30 Destiel Prompts’ for @starclaire

ao3 link

“Okay guys, we got a little time to kill before the bell so talk amongst yourselves. But keep it quiet.” Dean warns.

It’s an ordinary Tuesday morning in Dean’s home room class. He’s got a good bunch this year - a few interesting personalities for sure.

“Mr Winchester?”

Ah, speaking of interesting personalities.

“Yes, Krissy?” He looks up from the lesson plan he’d put together for his sophomore class first period. He frowns when he sees the eyes of all twenty-something kids staring back at him. “What’s going on?”

Nothing would surprise him anymore. He may have only been teaching at this particular school for a couple of years but he’d been an auto shop teacher for going on ten. He’d seen everything. And that’s why he knew having his entire home room look at him, like his kids currently were, wasn’t always a good thing.

“What’s the deal with you and Mr Novak?” She smirks.

Mr Novak, Castiel, is head of the history department. He’d started at the school about a year before Dean. He’s a little dorky and doesn’t always get people’s jokes or references but Dean knows the kids love him. He’s had many auto shop classes that begin with students telling him all about the ‘totally awesome’ history lesson they’d just had with Mr Novak.

Dean pretends not to understand the implication in Krissy’s question. “What do you mean?”

But Krissy isn’t letting it go. “It’s just that we’ve all noticed that you get into the same car with Mr Novak every day after school.” She shrugs, feigning innocence as if her words aren’t peppered with sly suggestions. “And we all know it’s your car because you never stop going on about it even though it’s old as hell and no one, except old men, drive cars like that anymore.”

Dean tries not to be offended on behalf of his baby. He wasn’t going to argue with a teenager about the merits of a well-kept classic vintage car. Not again anyway.

“It ain’t any of your business, Krissy, but Mr Novak doesn’t have a car so I drive him home.” Dean explains. “Happy?”

Krissy seems to relent, realising she’s not going to get a rise out of her teacher today.

“Nah,” comes a voice from the back row. “I reckon there’s more to it than that.”

The class shuffles around to reveal Claire Novak smirking back at the teacher. She has a mischievous look in her eyes that Dean doesn’t like. She has the rest of the students intrigued though.

Claire’s sly look only gets bigger as she begins to speak again. “I think they’re secretly dating,” she says, never taking her eyes off Dean, watching for his reaction.

Dean sighs. Where is that damn bell?

“No, Claire, me and Mr Novak are not dating,” he denies. “And you of all people should know that.”

Claire is Castiel’s niece. Her dad is Castiel’s twin brother, Jimmy. Jimmy came to school to pick Claire up once and it weirded everyone out seeing the exact replica of their favourite teacher stood right next to the man himself.

“Okay, fine,” Claire relents, “but you like him, right?”

Dean is saved from answering by the bell finally ringing.

* * *

Dean was foolish to hope that the details of the interrogation he’d received would stay in home room.

By third period, he’d heard students from each of his classes whisper as they were meant to be working. He couldn’t make out everything they were saying but he kept hearing the words ‘crush’ and ‘Mr Novak’ in the same sentence.

Crush? Dean is a grown man. He hasn’t had a crush since he met his first boyfriend when he was sixteen.

He takes a deep breath. It’ll blow over soon.

* * *

It does not blow over.

A week later and everyone is still talking about. Even some of the other teachers have been giving Dean knowing looks every time he’s sat next to Castiel in the teacher’s lounge. Though, Cas seems to remain none the wiser.

By the end of the day, Dean is glad to see his baby. He couldn’t wait to get home and be distracted from the rumours of his feelings for his fellow teacher.

As usual, Castiel joins him for the journey. Luckily, none of their students seem to be around when they get into the car.

Once they leave the school parking lot, Dean breathes a sigh of relief. He can just be himself now, and not worry about what other people are thinking.

The two men sit in silence for a few moments. Dean’s eyes are on the road ahead. Driving always calms him.

“Dean, can I ask you something?”

“Think you just did, Cas,” Dean smirks, not taking his eyes from the road.

“You’re hilarious,” Castiel replies. Dean sees him roll his eyes from the corner of his own. His smirk just gets bigger.

“I’ve been hearing some things around school recently,” Cas says, his voice changing to a more serious tone. “And, I just wanted to ask. Do you have a crush on me?”

It’s silent in the car for a few moments until Dean is the first to crack.

He lets out a loud bark of laughter. “I can’t believe you managed to say that with a straight face.” He chuckles, shaking his head in amusement.

The car pulls into the driveway of a modest two-storey house. Dean cuts the engine and turns to Cas.

The other man is quietly laughing too. He looks quite amused with himself. He is honestly such a dork, Dean thinks.

But then his face turns serious again. “You didn’t answer my question. Do you have a crush on me?” He asks again.

Dean thinks for a minute, taking in the man sitting in front of him. “Do I have a crush on my best friend, and husband of thirteen years? Yeah, I guess I do.”

Dean gives Cas a teasing smile and leans across the passenger seat to bring his husband into a smiling kiss.

* * *

Later that evening, Dean and Castiel are laying together in their bed. Only a lamp on the nightstand lights the room, letting out a relaxing glow.

Castiel reaches out to let Dean cuddle up to him. Dean rests his head on Castiel’s chest. He plays with the fingers on Castiel’s left hand. Castiel lets him and goes with the movement when Dean turns his hand over to reveal the small ‘18’ tattooed on the underside of his ring finger.

They’d met on September 18th in their junior year of high school. From that day, Castiel had been Dean’s first and only crush.

Castiel and Jimmy had just transferred from their old school. It was some old-fashioned super religious school but some bad shit had gone down and the school had to close. Dean’s school had been the next best thing according to Castiel's overbearing, church-going, Jesus devotee parents.

Dean and Castiel became inseparable by the time it came for them to graduate. By then, everyone knew they were together but they didn’t care. The honeymoon phase never seemed to end for them.

For obvious reasons, Castiel’s parents were the only ones who had never found out about their relationship. Given what they thought about anyone who wasn’t straight, the boys thought it was safer to keep it from them. They didn’t know what they might try to do to Castiel if they found out.

The day after their graduation, Dean had packed up his car and they ran away. They went to college in another state and never looked back. Castiel had left his parents a note explaining everything and telling them not to try and contact him - though Castiel didn’t think they’d want to after they’d found out he was gay.

Dean’s family knew where they’d gone (they’d always been supportive of their relationship since the beginning). They welcomed Castiel into their family and treated him like their own. They’d visit the boys for the holidays and eventually, once Dean’s brother, Sam, finished high school, they all moved to be closer to their boys.

Castiel had felt guilty for years for leaving his brother but in their second year of college, Jimmy tracked Castiel down and told him he’d left too. (Turns out he’d got his high school girlfriend, Amelia, pregnant and their parents didn’t take kindly to it happening out of wedlock.)

Dean and Castiel got married while they were still in college. Most people would warn them against getting married so young but their family knew they weren’t being naive. They were it for each other.

They had a small ceremony on the anniversary of their first meeting. Sam and Jimmy had been best men and two-year-old Claire was their flower girl. (Despite what her attitude now might make you think, she was an adorable toddler who stole the show with her adorable presence.)

Over the years, they’d kept their marriage on the down low. Castiel was a little paranoid that his parents would somehow find them and try to take him away from Dean and their family. They had a lot of connections and Castiel wouldn’t put it past them to use those connections to find him.

So, when they both became teachers and ended up working at the same high school, Castiel had asked Dean if he could be called Mr Novak so as not to draw attention to them. (Same sex marriage might be legal now but it would still turn heads to have two husbands teaching at the same school, which was the kind of thing Castiel wanted to avoid.) Dean had agreed, he just wanted his husband to feel safe. They still went home together at the end of the day and that’s all that mattered to him.

But it is that exact act which has led them to where they are now.

“Dean,” Castiel speaks into his husband’s hair. “I think it’s time to tell everyone the truth.”

Dean turns to sit up properly and look at Castiel.

“Are you sure? We don’t have to. I know you love and I sure as shit love you,” he reassures Cas. “Plus, it’s only your teacher name that’s still ‘Novak’. Legally, you’re a Winchester,” he smiles.

“I know, but I want to be honest with our coworkers and students too.” Castiel explains. “And maybe I want to show them that you’re not the only one with a crush,” he teases.

“Awesome.” Dean beams. “We don’t have to make a big deal out of it anyways. We’ll just start wearing our rings tomorrow and they’ll figure it out.”

Castiel nods in agreement.

Dean could just burst with happiness. He’d finally be able to show Castiel off like he’s always wanted to.

Currently, his wedding ring sat against his chest on a silver chain under his shirt. Castiel keeps his safely tucked away, only taking it out for special family occasions (hence why he got the tattoo - as a more subtle and personal token of his love for Dean). Dean couldn’t wait to feel the weight of the ring on his finger every day. And knowing Castiel would be walking around with his matching one makes Dean smile like a love-sick dork.

Suddenly feeling like a kid on Christmas Eve, Dean settles down into the sheets again, eagerly awaiting sleep to take him so it could hurry up and be morning.

He’s just drifting into sleep when Castiel’s voice whispers against his ear.

“Dean?”

Dean hums, not mustering the energy to turn over and face his husband.

“Not that I’m not happy that it gave me the perspective to stop being scared, but where did the rumours of you having a crush on me come from anyway?”

Trust Cas to think of the semantics just as Dean is trying to sleep.

Dean only has one word.

“Claire.”

Castiel sighs. “I should have known. I’ll talk to her.”

Dean finally turns to look at Cas in the eyes. Green meets blue. “Don’t sweat it, babe,” he smiles. “She’s just teasing like all teenagers do. She would never actually tell anyone anything we’re not comfortable with.”

Castiel shrugs and nods his head in silent agreement.

“I’ll just get her back when we go to your brother’s for dinner on Sunday.” Dean yawns, cheekily.

Castiel rolls his eyes. The joking rivalry between Dean and their niece never seems to end.

Dean smirks and leans over to kiss Castiel. “Goodnight, Mr Winchester.”

“Good night, Dean.”

* * *

The next morning, Dean walks into his home room class and begins the regular formalities of the morning.

Claire walks in late a few minutes later. She says nothing to Dean until she sits down at her desk, puts her feet up on the table, and says in a nonchalant manner, “Nice ring, Mr Winchester.”

The rest of the class look to Dean’s hand. Sure enough there’s a silver band on his left hand that hadn’t been there the day before.

“I just saw a matching one on my uncle’s hand when I handed in my history project. Isn’t that a funny coincidence?” She smirks as the rest of the students’ mouths drop open. Dean’s known Claire long enough to know that it’s a smirk of love though.

The news of his and Castiel’s marriage (and Castiel’s new teacher name) reaches his freshman class by second period. He should have known it wouldn’t take long.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed it Mae!

If you liked what you saw, REBLOG! and consider reserving a prompt from my ‘30 Destiel Prompts’ challenge, or just send me your own prompt you’d like me to fill!

TAGS: @eccentriccas @starrynightdeancas @credentiast @imbiowaresbitch @starclaire @cockleslovesdestiel @bend-me-shape-me @destielfactory @dea-stiel @wendeano @wingsandimpalas @aggressivedean @flowersforcas @chill-legilimens @pancakesofthelord @saltnhalo @caslikescoffeeandfreckles @assbuttboyfriends @jhoomwrites @breathingdestiel @simplymisha @thekingslover

(once again tagging my faves, let me you if you’d like to be removed from future fics - or added if you’re not already there!)

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slashingdisneypasta · 3 years

Note

Hi! If you don't mind could you write me some headcanons about being bff with some female cp's? Like Jane, Nina, Clockwork, Nurse Ann...?

One of my best friends is called one of these names so it was odd to write XD Some headcanon’s were totally true about her as well, and some definitely were n o t. XD

Anyway I’m not sure how comprehensive this is since I just kinda spewed it all out so, uh… I hope you like them! 😅

~~~

Clockwork:

· Natalie stays at your house all the time and eats all your food. Girl has a FAST metabolism so you cannot tell, but she eats e v e r y t h i n g.

· She doesn’t even have a key to your home, you just come home from everyday activities and she’s slumped in your couch cushions watching TV and there’s a pool on your bathroom floor from her shower and- oh, she has also ordered pizza so get your wallet out.

· You just squint/glare at her before flopping on the couch beside her. She hands you the remote and gets comfier by you.

· Even when you have a romantic interest over, she is there at your house, comfortable on the couch playing games on your phone as you walk your ‘friend’ to your room.

· It’s not all frustrating though, she’s always there to protect you. There have been multiple burglaries that she has intercepted and ‘taken care of’. She’s honestly like a guard dog who also has an excellent sense of humour.

· And don’t think she just wants you around for your apartment and money. Nay nayyyyyy nay. She tells you all about the Creepypasta drama and what’s going on at the mansion, even though you aren’t apart of that life.

· And she calls when she’s away. Just calls up to talk to you.

· You two are the kind of friends that don’t need to talk to each other all the time. In fact, you agree that talking to people all the time is annoying and too much trouble, and you could totally go without each other for days (Weeks even) if either of you were busy! But… without either of you even realising, you always end up contacting each other in one way or another every day, anyway. Its easy with you two. No romantic relationship could compare.

· She was the groom and you were the bride in your make-believe weddings and mums and dads games as kids.

· On Toby: “Okay Nat, I like Toby but I hope you know, if he hurts you… well there is absolutely nothing I can do to wreak revenge on your behalf, as he is a duo hatchet wielding psychopath, except maybe give him a stink eye. … When he is looking away and therefore cannot see the stink eye.”

· More on the Toby subject: Clockwork once took you to Slender Mansion (Cuz you were targeted by a botched victim of hers because she cares about you and she wanted you close by to keep you safe until she could, like, finish killing the guy and all. Whatever though, no biggie. Pft, At least that’s how she made it out to be.) and she had to leave you for a moment so she handcuffed you and Toby together because he’s the only one she could trust to watch you.

· It was very awkward for the two of you, but definitely a bonding experience. You were both very happy to see Clocky come back though.

· HORROR. The world of horror is your favourite genre together. Supernatural horror, slashers, basement dwellers, vampires, werewolves, the blob, stalkers, murderers, psychological horror, black and white, colour, movies, tv shows, books- whatever. You two get so excited to experience new fictional horror.

Jane The Killer:

· If you’re into boys, let me tell you right away- Jane is very critical of their actions. She was at a very influential time in her life (Especially concerning boys and girls and romance) when she met Jeff and Liu. She met those boys, thought ‘Oh, they’re cute. Maybe budding crush?’, and then Jeff killed her family, burnt down her home and ruined her life and Liu became an asshole, and now the male species has been, sorta… tainted. She knows there are good ones (In fact, m a n y boys are lovely, of course.), but one’s that you’re in romantic cahoots with are always going to be under her very watchful eye anyway so she doesn’t really bother to hold back her fear (Which translates into dislike… or hate) with them. So if you have boy problems, be careful. Provided you like this/these guy/s, at least. If you don’t like them, then she’s the perfect person to go to!

· If you are a boy, then- of course, none of this applies to you. She loves you. Don’t worry. You’re her best friend!

· Girls are an entirely different situation though of course. Jane drinks that love women juice every single day.

· Jane is really good with altering clothes, so she’s the one you go to when you need help hemming something or taking something in. She likes to do it, too. Quality best friend time while not being lazy.

· Speaking of her hating to be lazy… This does not apply at night. Nighttime is a whole other ballgame. Its bedtime by 7 for her if you don’t lock her into plans a week in advance. If she is braless and in her P.J’s, you will not be able to peel her from her home. Except for snacks, but even if she goes to the grocery store, she’s not getting changed and she’s going to wear her bunny slippers.

· You two watch so many cartoons together. Gravity Falls, Star Vs The Forces of Evil, Over The Garden Hedge, Villainous, Looney Tunes, Ducktales, etc. Any and all that you can get your hands on.

· You two are prepared to get platonically married, for any reason. Like, you need to stay in the country? Married; You’re staying. You’re the only one who can testify against hr in the court of law? Married, so by law you don’t have to. One of you accidentally planted yourselves with a kid and (Cuz you’re ride or die for each other, obviously), you’re gonna parent the child together and cuz of religious beliefs one of your would feel better about raising them together with a wedding band? Married.

· Jane doesn’t drink, so when/if you get drunk she’s always there to keep you safe.

· Jane also gets friend-jealous, a lot. Like, that bitch just called you her best friend, Y/N. Is she your best friend? I thought I was. So who is it, Y/N? Me or her? HM? (She is prepared to turn up to wherever you and this person are hanging, all glamorous and cool as she is, and show off. Prove she’s a way better friend then this new person so they back off).

· When you were little, she was the bride and you were the groom in your wedding/marriage/mums and dads games.

Nina The Killer:

· You have known her for both your entire lives and there have been iffy, and dark times but through hell and high water you have stuck with her. You love her. She’s your girl, you are her person too. You will be with her, and protect her from anything.

· You are the only one in the world that loves her, really. You may not quite understand her weirdness, but you stick with her anyway because you love her.

· Just like- baseline of your friendship is being ride or die for each other.

· You were also really into Jeff, but at a more… healthy? Level? Like, you were still romantically interested in a real-life murderer, but you wouldn’t have done anything about it. You wouldn’t hurt anyone (Except to protect others) or victim blame, or contact the victims (Dear God) or whatever, but you would take peaks at fanfiction and gab with Nina about it. I mean, it’s not grand, but in comparison to Nina, hah… you were harmless.

· Now though, that you’ve met him and he is the reason your bets friend is so hurt and broken, you are not the fondest of him. I mean, you still have a place in your heart for the version of him you and Nina made up in your heads (The version that Nina still believes is real) but that isn��t the real him. Jeff Woods is an ass. You need to keep your friend safe from him.

· And uh… so nowadays… occasionally, you will find out where Jeff is (You keep an ear out) and, you know, just… lie your ass off to Nina. Yep. You tell her you heard that he’s in the opposite direction than he is so that she’ll unknowingly put more distance between him and her.

· Yes. It’s a lie, but… its for the greater good! It’s for Nina’s mental health and physical safety.

· Anyway, moving on to lighter things.

· In your make believe mums and dads/’grown up’ games that you would play together as kids, you were a single parent and she was the dog.

· She will lie for you in an instant. She’s also really good at it.

· You walked into a room once and saw she was drawing something, and it turned out to be your joint tombstone. She has not let this go- you will be buried in the same plot together, if it is the last thing she does. This is slightly concerning, but… also kind of cute. You can roll with it.

· “What if I get married or have kids?”

· “They will need to apply with me to join. There will be an interview process.”

· ‘What about pets?”

· “Oh, they can come in! No fee!”

· Do not underestimate her weight. If she doesn’t want you to leave, she will hold onto your leg and go deadweight, and you will s t r u g g l e.

· Nina talks to herself, but she acts like the person she’s talking to is another person, inside her mind. You both know its not, but you refer to the other girl as Agnes anyway. Super casual.

· Follows you when you go on dates (At least the first one with someone)to make sure all goes well and texts you rapid fire when she smells something fishy. Even the smallest thing.

· You two really love dystopian teen fiction. Divergent? Matched? Hunger Games? Maze Runner? Ugles? Alllllll. You consume them and then watch the movies/tv shows too.

Nurse Ann:

· Live-in medical services! This means you can get really cheap life insurance and not worry about it to much.

· And on the topic of insurance… Ann is super smart, and organised, and just really awesome at practical stuff like that. Insurance, bills, mortgages, any kind of forms and receipts. And she’s happy to sit down and help you go through it- and, as we all know, everything is better when it’s with a friend you feel comfortable with.

· You can tell Ann anything and she’ll just roll with it. No judgment. Either she takes it and lets you talk about it or she just acknowledges it and moves on.

· Like Jane, Ann has very little patience for boy problems. In fact, she has zero time for it. Boys? Girls? No thank you. So if you’re into boys, I have some bad news for you.

· Best friend maintenance. Occasionally, Ann will over work herself (with murder) and you will need to guide her to relaxation. Gently persuade her to sit down at the dinner table and just make idle chit chat with her every now and then as you make her a good, hearty meal (Or as good as you can do XD Anything between Beefy stew and a Cheese toastie will work fine, don’t worry. She’s not picky at all), and then watch some movies with her. No phones, no knitting, no drawing, no… whatever. No other activities except TV watching! She needs to rest. I’m always shocked at how relaxing just sitting and watching TV can be. There’s a big difference between doing that and multitasking.

· Ann will call you to pretend there’s an emergency if you want to get out of social engagement.

· A thing that two enjoy together is science fiction. Star Trek (Including the animation), The War of Worlds, the world of Star Wars, Dune, a Handmaids Tail, The 100, Eureka, etc. She loves the brainy stuff.

· Ann is the logical friend, who tries to give the most practical advice and make pros and con lists and everything. And then you go ahead and do the crazy thing, the thing she said definitely would not work and would probably make things worse, and she just face palms and says she’s never getting mixed up in your mess again. … Until the next time, when she totally does.

· “I love you Y/N, but I am not about to walk into a police office and bail you out of jail so do not do that.”

· You trap her into resting by painting her nails (Hands and feet) in her sleep right before her alarm is about to go off so she has to take the morning SLOW or the paint will mess up. She just wakes up, you hold up a sign in front of her face that says ‘NAILS’ and she stops immediately. “You bitch.”

· As kids, of course, the two of you would play make-believe family games and you were both mums (/ or you were the dad). She was the working mum and you were forced to stay home take care the baby (large container of vitamins with a face drawn on).

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itgetsdarksometimes35 · 4 years

Text

For Freedom

Warnings: This chapter: none; the series: non-con, dub-con, depression, forced marriage, angst, forced pregnancy, 18+

Word count: 4,237

Pairings: Dark!Bucky Barnes / Reader

Summary: Reader is the youngest girl in her family. After being sold to Bucky Barnes, and forced to have his child, she and her sisters look for a way to escape.

~ indicates time change

- indicates a POV change

A/N: Hey you guys! I know I planned on this being the ending, but I thin this will be a small series. The next part will be the ending for sure, though. Hope you enjoy, next thing out will be Love In True Form, and then I’ll get to work on challenges. Then after that, I may have a new series for you all...

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It took months to save up enough money. You only needed enough to get two one-way tickets to Germany, but you were scared to take out too much in fears of James finding out. In that time, your oldest sister, Lucille, had twin boys. She had 5 sons altogether now, and you couldn’t wait to see her again. You hadn’t spoken to her since she was married and taken away years ago; Anne seemed to be the person who was doing all the communicating for you all. The second oldest, Vienna, had 3 daughters before she finally had her son. Her husband refused to give up until he had an “heir.” Anne had only 3 children, two boys and a girl. All the names to your nieces and nephews were a mystery, along with their faces and ages. You could guess Lucille’s twins’ ages were less than a year, but you could never be sure. Anne knew you had your son, but she didn’t know his name. She never asked, and she told you not to tell her. You weren’t sure if your other sisters knew, but it would only be a matter of time before they did.

Bucky had turned 1 years old a month prior to you both leaving. James threw a small party at a local amusement park that he had rented out for the entire day. His friends and family were the only in attendance, as usual, and the older kids enjoyed the rides while Bucky smiled at all his guests and messed his face with icing from his safari cake. James had been so happy to plan the party; balloon animals, a small petting zoo, and face painting areas all decorated the park. You couldn’t deny the way he beamed at Bucky as he screamed in affection at the baby goat drinking from the bottle or the way he giggled at the stuffed rabbit James’ friend, Natasha, had gifted him. James wasn’t loving with you, but you were thankful it didn’t carry over to Bucky. You wished yours and James’ situation was different. Maybe you’d love him in different lights.

When James thought you were buying groceries one day, you went out to get you and Bucky’s passport and buy your tickets. The passports would be ready and shipped to your house in 5 weeks, you paid an extra fee to get the expedition processing, and our flight would be the following week.

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

“See ya tonight, bud.” James caressed Bucky’s head while speaking to the pouting toddler. Bucky was always upset to see his daddy leave for work, and overjoyed when he came back. Your heart clenched. Were you doing the right thing? Then James turned to you and you shook the thought away. Of course you were.

“Have a good day, dear. We’ll miss you,” You chirped as you kissed James on the cheek. He turned his mouth up in a small smile before kissing you on the lips.

“Can’t wait to get back.” He winked at you and your stomach turned at his crud intentions. You were nothing but a walking toy for him, something to cook him food and bear his children. You faked a smile before dipping into the house while James drove off.

You shut the door and quickly walked upstairs, your cab would be here in an hour. Plenty of time to pack. You set Bucky in his playpen and he looked at you as you frantically moved around yours and James’ shared room trying to throw useful items into the suitcase you brought to the house the day you moved in.

“Da-da,” Bucky cooed from the pen as he picked up a block to start stacking.

“Da-da went to work, baby. Now you and mommy are going to go on a trip,” You turned to your son and smiled at him, “Are you excited?” You talked in your baby voice and your son smiled back at you. His 3 teeth on full display for you.

Your suitcase was filled with as many clothes as you saw fit. Everyone had specific items to bring, and your job was the clothes. Anne and Lucille would bring baby supplies, diapers, sippy cups, toys, etc; Vienna shared your job. The plan was to pack light, anything other than what you absolutely needed had to be left--including photos, and then drain your husband’s bank account for money. Finding out James’ banking information was the hardest thing for you to do, he kept it all locked in a safe in a room that was always locked. After snooping on him one night after he thought you were asleep, you were surprised to see the combination was the day of your marriage.

As you were leaving the bedroom, you saw Bucky’s baby book. It wasn’t big, and you could fit it in your purse. There were millions of photos on the walls, but none of them were personal to you. They were high tech and flashy photos James had spent too much money on. None of them looked natural. Then again, you had never felt natural with him. But that book held photos you had captured with an old polaroid you found in the basement. The film was just as old, but there was enough to last you years. You grabbed it and stuffed it into your purse as the Taxi started honking. You picked Bucky up from his playpen and left. You would just have to deal with Anne’s complaining when you got to Germany.

The taxi dropped you off at the airport 45 minutes before you were supposed to board. You rolled your suitcase over to the bank that was next door, and entered with Bucky on your hip. James listed you as an account holder in the case of an emergency. You were positive he hadn’t seen anything wrong with this, you’d still need to know his information, and he probably thought he had broken you beyond the point of willing yourself to run. Little did he know.

“Good morning, I’d like to withdraw some funds from my husband’s account,” You said to the older woman with a blonde bob and bright red lipstick. She smiled and set the glasses hanging around her neck on her nose before turning to the screen ahead of her.

“Alright, name please.” You told her and she typed a few times. “And his?” She looked at you, and you noticed a bit of lipstick in her teeth.

“James Buchanan Barnes.” The woman nodded and typed away.

“Da-da,” Bucky yelled and you looked down at him with a smile.

“That’s right, honey, that’s daddy’s name.” Bucky smiled up at you before grabbing at your hair to play with.

“Oh, he’s a cutie,” The older woman exclaimed, “Can he have a lollipop?” She reached into a brown bowel on the counter separating the two of you before pulling out a blue sucker.

“I don’t see why not. Thank you.” You took the blue lollipop before turning to Bucky who was eyeing the candy with intensity. “What do you say?”

“Tank to!” You unwrapped the lollipop before handing it to Bucky. He grabbed it with his chunky hand before greedily sucking on it, already getting a blue sticky streak on his mouth.

You turned your attention back to the blonde, and she asked you for your name and bank information. You gave it to her as she continued to type away at her computer. “Alright, can you tell me the amount you’d like to withdraw today?”

You cleared your throat before answering, “All of it.”

The woman’s eyes got big. “Ma’am, there’s 2 million dollars in here. Can you give a reason?”

“Yes ma’am.” You adjusted Bucky on your hip as you tried to remember your lie. “My husband, James, was recently in a horrible accident at his job. I understand the hospital can take the money from the account, but they’ve given me the option to give it to them in person as well. I was on my way to catch a flight to him, and decided this was a route I’d like to take. Our insurance wouldn’t inflate because they wouldn’t have to pay anything, too, and now that we have this little one,” You lifted your hip that carried Bucky a bit higher, “I want our insurance as good as possible. We never know, you know?”

The blonde looked as if she were about to cry. “Oh, you poor thing! Yes, of course I understand completely. I have 2 daughters, and when their father got sick our insurance and healthcare went completely down the drain. I wish I could’ve had the money you have, I know it can be terrifying to have bad policies when raising children. Especially young ones.” You were nodding your head, trying to look pitiful. You felt bad for lying, especially to this woman. She looked so bad for you and was able to relate to your fake story. Your stomach flipped, and you felt like you were going to be sick.

“Thank you, I’m sorry about your husband. It’s a horrible situation that some of us are put in.”

The woman agreed and typed on the computer again. A register was opened and she counted out taped together stacks of money. She put them in a cream colored bag along with a receipt and handed it to you.

“I hope everything goes okay for you and your little one. Us moms have to stay strong and do what’s best.”

You held back tears at the woman’s words. “That we do.”

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

You made your way back to the airport as Bucky babbled a song from a show you both watch together. The bank teller, who’s name you learned to be Camille, informed you that your husband would be emailed by the bank about the deposit due to legal protocol. You knew James checks his email religiously and that he got notifications on his phone. You knew that he was probably on a phone call with the bank right now, screaming into the phone. But you didn’t care.

By the time he figured out you’d left, you’d be in Germany. Or close to it. You planned on destroying your trail once you got there. Anne had planned it all out. She deleted her history and told you to destroy all your letters by burning them. She led her husband to believe you all had traveled to Greece with undeleted searches. It would throw all of them off for a bit, but eventually you knew they’d figure out you went to Germany. You all knew that you couldn’t stay together after a while, it’d be too risky. You knew at some point one of you might get caught, and the rest would have to save themselves. You were fugitives, trapped in your own homes, with men that were supposed to provide security as the guards. But, until then, you’d stick together as long as possible. You were stronger as a team during the weaker parts of the beginning.

As you boarded the plane you felt a wave of nausea hit you. You rushed to the plane bathroom with Bucky still in your arms. You threw the door open, and emptied your stomach into the toilet bowl.

“Uh oh,” Bucky said, making you laugh at his purity.

“It’s okay, honey, mommy’s just a little nervous,” You reassured your son. You flushed and washed your hands before stepping out of the cramped room to find your seat. The plane took off soon after that.

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

You were jerked awake as a flight attendant tapped your shoulder, her brown hair pulled tight into a low bun.

“Sorry to wake you, ma’am,” She had a smooth voice that you felt could put you right back to sleep, “But you’ve arrived at your destination.”

“Okay, thank you.” She smiled at you before standing up straight to move to the back of the plane to wake up other passengers. Bucky was asleep in your arms, and you planned to keep him that way. He had been good throughout the entire flight, but you weren’t surprised. He was such an easy baby, you couldn’t have been blessed with a better one. Especially not in your circumstances.

You got off the plane and went in search of your suitcase in the bag return. You quickly found it before you headed out of the crowded airport. Bucky was quick to wake up after hearing the commotion of the early Wednesday morning traffic. Taxi drivers were yelling in German and English to the people exiting the airport, offering them a ride for a “price they couldn’t get elsewhere.” You would’ve taken the offer, but knew that you had to wait for the bus. Anne had said it’d be easier to hide that way. The taxi driver would ask for a direct address while the bus would drop you off at another station. Miles from your true destination. Plus the bus driver was less likely to remember you.

Your stomach growled as Bucky bounced in your lap. You had eaten on the plane, but had vomited nearly everything up. Your stomach wasn’t agreeing with anything today, but you knew it was just the guilt and nerves you felt. Everything would go back to normal once you were with your sisters, and plus they would have something good for you to have at the house.

The bus smelled and was cramped with loud people on their way to work. They spoke words you couldn’t comprehend loudly in your ear, and Bucky sat amazed at them. When your stop came, you eagerly grabbed your suitcase, bag, and son and all but jumped off the bus, glad to be rid of it for now. You followed a path Anne described in great detail until you came to houses with numbers. You dragged your tired body along them until you found the number that had played in your head for the past few days. Number 39. Your new home

You climbed the three steps up to the brown, wooden door, and grasped the iron knuckle. You pulled it up and down several times emitting loud thuds to echo in the small community of homes. Bucky grasped the front of your chest and stuck his face into it to represent his hunger.

“I know, baby, mommy will feed you soon.”

Your heart beat loudly in your chest as you waited for an answer. You counted 23 seconds before you considered your possible mistake. Did you go down the wrong street? Was 39 the house number or was it the bus number you were supposed to take? Was there any way to contact your sisters? Could you somehow convince James that you had been kidnapped in hopes he’d believe you? Just then the door creaked open. Your worries came to a halt as you saw Vienna standing in the doorway. She had, of course, aged a bit since the last time you saw her. Her hair was shorter and a little bit dull in color and she was skinnier than the chubby teenager you were used to, but there was no denying that was her.

“Oh my God, Vienna?” Her droopy tired eyes held tears as she took you in. Her lip trembled and she whispered your name. She opened the door wider as she held out her arms to you. “It’s been so long!”

You held her tighter to you with the arm that didn’t hold Bucky. She pulled away from you as tears escaped from her eyes. Your own were starting to conjugate in yours. Vienna stepped aside so you could step into the small house. She took a peek outside before shutting and locking the door behind you.

“Where’s everyone else,” You asked, setting your bags down at last.

Vienna didn’t have to answer as you heard your name being called behind you. You turned and adjusted Bucky into your other arm as you see Lucille stepping out of a room. Her back is a bit hunched over and one of her eyes seemed to lazily shut now. Gray hair was sprinkled across her scalp, and wrinkles were setting under her eyes. She was only 36.

“Look at you, you’ve grown so much,” She exclaimed, stepping closer to you. You were only 1 when she was married off at 16. She was the youngest one wed, but she was also the prettiest. Your father had no problem finding a man to sell her to. She was the only one auctioned off before 18. Vienna left at 19 and Anne left at 22. None of you were as strong as Anne, she had held on the longest. You had left at 18, too.

You hugged her tightly. You never got to know her, but you still loved her deeply. You hated the cards you all had been dealt for keeping you apart for so long. You let go as Vienna stepped closer to you both. She rubber Bucky’s small back.

“And who is this little guy?” She smiled down at him as he gave a 3 tooth grin back.

You sniffed before handing Bucky to your sister. “This is Bucky. My one and only.” Vienna mimicked the name before bouncing him on her hip a bit.

“Well, Bucky, I think it’s time for you to meet your aunts and cousins.”

Lucille took your hand as Vienna carried Bucky into a room filled with kids and a crib with two babies sleeping. They all were watching a TV, but turned to you as you walked in.

“Kids, come meet your 4th aunt,” Vienna said as she cooed at Bucky. 3 girls and a boy walked over to you and Lucille. “That’s Jade,” Vienna pointed to the girl with dutch braids, “Josephine,” The one with big curls and floral dress, “June,” The one with a ponytail and a sports jersey, “and Jared,” The only boy. They all waved to you, all looking a bit uncomfortable. You didn’t blame them, they had traveled from God knows where to a weird house, and now they were meeting people they had never met before. Probably never even heard of. “And this is your other cousin, Bucky.” Josephine, she looked to be the oldest-- probably 13, smiled at the child.

“Oh, he’s so cute! Can I hold him?” She looked to her mom for confirmation before looking at you. Her big eyes soft, just like her mother’s.

“Yeah, of course. He’s hungry, do you want to feed him?” Her eyes lit up.

“Yes!” You chuckled at her enthusiasm, and she gave a shy smile once realizing how excited she sounded.

“He can eat crushed up fruit, do you guys have any?” Your eyes searched Vienna and Lucille.

“In the kitchen. I can go do it for you,” The girl replied, scooping up your son before moving through a door that led into, what you assumed to be, a kitchen.

“We left just in time,” Vienna said, “Her father had already found a man to marry her. She’s sweet, and I know she’d make a great mom one day, but she’s also so smart. She has a life to live before she should even think about a baby,” She sighed, “But of course, women in our situation don’t hold any other value.”

Vienna’s children had gone back to watching the TV, and Lucille called her children up.

“Boys, come here please.” 3 boys walked over to you. “This is my oldest, Tennessee,” The boy with dusty hair nodded to you, he looked about 16, “Then Anthony,” the one with curly hair and glasses, “And Kyle,” He had freckles and a dimple on his chin. Lucille pointed to the crib. “Over there are Michael and Ian, they’re 3 months old. Didn’t think I had it in me, but I guess it’s not over until the big change, huh?” You smiled at her as she squeezed your hand.

“It’s nice to meet everyone,” You say and they nod at you, taking their seat on the floor and couch yet again. There were still 3 kids that were taking steady glances at you, and you were about to ask about them when you heard your name yet again. You turn to the left to see Anne walking down the stairs.

“Anne!” You ran over to embrace your sister. You and her had by far had the strongest relationship, being closer in age and spending the most time together. You felt yourself crying once again. Anne broke the hug and held you at arms length, looking you over.

“Wow,” She breathed out as tears flowed freely. She looked exactly the same as she did 7 years prior. You giggled at her and she joined you. A little girl, no older than two, ran to hug her legs. “This little stinker,” Anne said lifting the girl up, “Is my youngest Brooke.” She kissed the girl’s cheek before waving the last 2 boys over. “That’s George,” The oldest one with shoulder length hair, “And Evan.” He looked exactly like your father. Had the same lifted left eyebrow and everything. Anne looked like the man she hated the most, and you knew she’d never be rid of the man who she blamed all her sorrows on. Especially not now that her son looked like him, but you knew she’d never neglect her child.

Josephine was walking out of the kitchen while wiping Bucky’s hands. You grabbed your sister’s hand and led her over to your son.

“And this is Bucky.”

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

After the tear filled reunion, you found yourself at a small dinner table with your sisters. They were all huddled around it as your nieces and nephews sat in front of the tv and had dinner. They giggled at the silent screen that flashed cartoons at them. Bucky lay asleep in Anne’s arms as she bounced him.

“Alright,” Anne whispered loud enough for just you all to hear, “So, does everyone know the plan?” You all nodded. Anne had planned this all out. Every time something was needed outside of the house, somebody different each time would leave to retrieve it. It would go in rotation from oldest to youngest. You would carry a burner phone with you and would only use it if there was an emergency. The phone would have one number on it, the house phone, that another sister would be right by until the other one returned back safely.

After dinner, you helped Vienna clean up. You both had insisted Anne and Lucille get some rest, saying they had gotten there the earliest and were tired. Anne took Bucky to the room you, her, Bucky, Brooke, and June would sleep in. The house only had 3 bedrooms, and 5 people would have to bunk in the small bedrooms with only one king size bed together. It would be a squeeze, but it was all definitely better than the Hell you all had escaped.

While cleaning, you found yourself not being able to focus on the story Vienna was telling you. Your stomach was turning, fighting the peas and chicken you had just ate, and your head was suddenly hurting. You were sweating too. Were you having a panic attack?

“You okay, sis?” Before you could answer, you were vomiting up your dinner into the sink. Vienna soothingly rubbed your back as you finished off the remnants. You turned on the faucet to wash away the mush.

“I’m s-sorry. I guess I’m a little scared still?” Vienna looked at you and gave a knowing smile before resting her hand on your shoulder.

“How far along are you?”

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The day had been a shitty one. James was in the middle of an important business pitch with Sam Wilson, a promising company from Louisiana that he wanted to partner with, when his assistant rushed in. He tried to order her out, but when he heard “money” and “gone” he had to apologize and excuse himself. After seeing the bank’s email, and hearing the voicemail they left his assistant after she called them, he rescheduled his meeting with Sam, explaining vaguely what was happening.

James believed someone had stolen your information in order to rob him blind. He didn’t think you would do that, what reason would you have? Name anything on this Earth and James would have it in your hands the very next day. He was clutching the steering wheel with a vice-like grip that was turning his knuckles white. When James got home, he looked on terrified at how it was left. He called your name out while he ran around looking for you and Bucky. Once he found it empty, he started dialing 911. You both were missing.

James was tapping his foot waiting for the operator when he saw it. The picture album that you begged him for when you first found out you were pregnant. It was gone.

The metal hand clutching the phone crushed right as he heard the female voice on the other side greet James. You and Bucky weren’t kidnapped, you had run away.

James went downstairs to call his friends, Steve and Natasha. He was going to need their help tracking down his bratty wife. She was smart, he’d give her that, but she’d have to try a lot harder if she wanted to get away from an ex super soldier.

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@jtargaryen18 @coconutqueen21 @collette04 @stayhazey @nsfwsebbie @official-and-unstable-satan

#non con #dub con #dark!fic #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes #dark!mcu #dark!marvel

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checkurwindow · 3 years

Text

since you walked out

Book: Open Heart

Warnings: Mentions of Christianity around the start if that requires a warning and one or two swears but other than that nothing much. Also a good amount of flashbacks. And while you’re at it, here’s my masterlist for more angst-filled works!

Rating: Teen

Pairing: Bryce x F!MC

Word Count: 3200+ A little higher than my usual word count but not the highest (Check out the fic with a word count of over 5200!)

Author’s Note: Finally back from my little break with a new Bryce fic. I got a burst of inspiration listening to songs and decided to write this. Also, flashbacks are in italic. Enjoy!

For as long as she could remember, her family would always drag her to church. They were always very religious. She would always be forced into a dress when they went out, constantly reminded to “act like a lady” whenever there were boys around, she’d be pushed to be the poster child of the perfect Christian.

When she was fourteen, she went into church on a Monday, for a funeral instead. She instantly noticed the change in tone the moment she set foot on the marble steps out front, and ever since then, she looked at churches a little differently. She realised that they held an entirely different meaning than she once thought. She learned that they could be just as devastating and sad as they were celebratory.

Like now, where people gathered at the steps, mingling and conversing in expensive clothes that they weren’t going to wear again. There was a truck out on the lawn a bit further from where she was, the workers hastily moving tables and decorations to a tent that was set up at the back. To her side, there were a handful of people complimenting a little girl in a white dress.

A stretch limousine pulled up at the side of the road and a few women climbed out of the car, all wearing matching pale coloured dresses.

She tugged at her own dress and hoped that the simple colour of her own dress would allow her to blend into the crowd and go about unnoticed. Aurora had told her it was fine; besides, it wasn’t as if a fancy new dress was something that would fit in her budget.

And it wasn’t like anyone here would care about her, much less her appearance and what she’s wearing. If someone was to take notice of her, it definitely wouldn’t be because of her dress. They weren’t there for her. In fact, she was yet to spot a single familiar face, which should have been a good thing for her, but she couldn’t help but wonder how many of the guests present both parties actually knew and had met prior to that day.

“Would you ever get married?”

He let out an annoyed sigh, “marriage isn’t as meaningful as one might think, why should I have to document my love to you if we both already know the truth?”

“Okay,” she said, a little disappointed, “but I wouldn’t mind seeing you in a fancy tux,” she smiled, but it didn’t seem to affect him in the slightest.

“Is that really why you want a wedding? Because I would gladly put on something as simple as a tux if it meant that you’d be down t-”

“No, that’s not the only reason. I’d like a wedding, I think that it’d be nice. It wouldn't even have to be a big one,” she could imagine them on a beach, maybe a small service in their apartment, she wouldn’t even have minded just going to the courthouse and having a nice dinner afterward.

“It’s not like we’d have enough people for a big wedding anyway, we’re always so busy.”

She sat down next to him and stroked his thick brown hair with her fingers, “we could just invite our friends from edenbrook, and my parents, you know how much they love you. We don’t need a bunch of people around to have a wedding.”

“Good, because I don’t want a giant guest list where there are different number tables and- and a full service and a grand ceremony. I just...I just want you.”

She wondered how much of this was total bullshit.

From where she was standing, she didn’t think anyone would approach her. The lake behind them was breathtaking, but the crowd was rather anxious and impatient, they were waiting to sit down and for the ceremony to start.

Some people passed by her, and she picked up on certain things they said, like how “beautiful the church is” or “she picked out the perfect dress, her father was crying because it was so pretty” and her favorite one, “just wait till you see this guy, they are just perfect for each other.”

Perfect.

“I told you, I can’t dance.”

“And I was a fool not to believe you, you’ve stepped on my foot so many times I think it’s bruised,” he teased then laughed when she hit his shoulder.

“I hate you,” she looked up at the dark sky above them and shuddered at the thunder that rumbled, “why are we even doing this?”

“Because dancing in the rain is on my bucket list,” he twirled her around then hurriedly pulled her back in when she started to fumble and stumble.

“Okay, but why right now with me? You seriously expect me to believe that all throughout your life you haven’t had a chance to dance in the rain?” she grimaced as she felt a few drops of water drip into her eye.

“Maybe I was just waiting for the perfect person to share this experience with,” he wrapped his hand around her waist and she chuckled.

“Perfect? Please, I am far from perfect,” they met each other’s gaze and she got butterflies just from seeing that look in his eyes.

“That may be true, but this is perfect,” the rain started to get heavier, their clothes and hair completely soaked long ago, “you and me, here right now, together. It’s perfect.”

Lost in her own thoughts, she didn’t hear the sound of metal and wheels quickly approaching her, only being knocked out of her trance when he called out to her. She turned her head a little too fast, scared that she would be caught, afraid that there would be a giant scene, and that she would lose her chance.

At what exactly, she hadn’t really figured out yet.

“It’s really you, isn’t it?”

Elijah was always so welcoming, she never once felt out of place with him by her side. Even now, despite the circumstances, he still held a small smile on his face as he approached her, dressed nicely in a suit, even his wheelchair had little decorations.

“Hey, Elijah,” She gripped her own arm, unsure if it would be inappropriate to interact with him even more than she already had, “I like the decorations on your wheelchair.”

“Thanks,” he said, “Phoebe and I made them together,” he moved a little in his seat to show off a few hidden decorations. He looked just the same as she had really seen him up close almost a year ago.

“It looks nice! How...how have you been?” She didn’t really know what she was doing. Maybe she was hoping the small talk would be a distraction for the time being, she wasn’t ready to talk about the obvious out in the open just yet.

“I’m doing okay. Phoebe and I moved in together a couple weeks back, it’s going well...” he trailed off with a fond smile on his face.

“I’m happy for you, Elijah. You really deserve it.”

He smiled, “thanks. What have you been up to?”

She winced and tried not to fidget. “Nothing much, really. I visited my parents a few days ago. Everything’s like usual, it’s good.”

He nodded, and just like a wave, tension flooded the air around them.

She refused to look down and meet his eyes, to either see full curiosity, disappointment, or any other mood that would just make her feel sick to her stomach, will have her asking the same question over and over to herself. However, the silence couldn’t stay too long.

“What- why are you here?” He asked in a sympathetic tone.

An older woman was yelling at a worker, wanting more champagne for the bride's suite. She was aggressive, and yet the guests around her weren’t baffled at her behavior in the slightest.

She hated entitlement, hated more when the rich forgot that other people aren’t as fortunate enough as them.

She also hated that he was still staring at her while she was wondering if her own mother would be so stressed to the point of lashing out at others around her.

“How long have they been engaged?” She found herself asking the question as a desperate last attempt to quiet her thoughts of if they were stuck in one place and never seemed to want more.

“6 months,” he responded, knowing what those two little words would do to her, “she’s sweet, she has a good heart, she doesn’t push him.”

Ouch.

“And she makes him happy.”

Another stab of pain.

“Do you ever think that we were...unhappy?” His facial expression went soft when she finally looked him in the eye. He tried to think of all the ways he could word his next sentence carefully, but it was no use; he knew she could see the real answer on his face.

“I think you two...worked well together. I think you enjoyed the company of one another, and maybe you were even in love once-”

Once.

“-but that’s in the past.”

Past.

“Right now, over a hundred people are here to celebrate what’s best for them.”

Them.

It was something unspoken, but she picked up on his hints and nudges, she knew what he was trying to get at. She knew that he was wordlessly telling her that her presence was unwelcome and that it would be for the best if she left.

Why was she here? Why did she think that today would be the day to confess her feelings that never drifted away? Why was she so selfish, and think that her happiness was more important than his?

She heard swift footsteps approach her and Elijah. She slowly turned around, hoping it wouldn’t be the one person who could cause her to break down and fall apart with just a single glance.

“What are you doing here? You weren’t invited, you aren’t supposed to be here!” Keiki lashed out. She was loud, almost yelling at her, and it was causing a scene, something she really didn’t want. Keiki looked like she was about to jump her when Elijah moved in between them, separating them with his wheelchair.

“Relax, Keiki,” He looked back at her with a pointed look, “she was just leaving.”

There was a pause, and she almost believed that yes, she was leaving. That was her cue, no one wanted her here, she wasn’t supposed to be here. Who was she to ruin a wedding? How could she do something so terrible to him

“Move in with me,” he ran his hand over her back, listening closely to her slow breaths.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’d be nice, getting to come back home after a long day of surgery and join you in bed, falling asleep together,” he thought she was already half asleep and couldn’t even register much less comprehend a single word of what he was saying.

He was proven wrong when she raised her head and looked back at him in the dark room, the only source of light from the window that was cracked open just enough to let the cool night air flow in.

“You’re right. I’m doing internal medicine so I don’t get to see you at the hospital as much as I’d like. This would definitely make up for the lost time,” she smirked as he nudged her gently with his leg.

“Definitely,” he laughed softly.

She kissed his chest and smiled up at him, “if I move in, there’s no turning back. I can’t afford to keep switching back and forth.”

He smiled, “I couldn’t think of anywhere else I’d rather want you to be.”

She gave them a curt nod with a tight-lipped smile, her lips quivering in the slightest as she walked backward a few steps before fully turning her back on them, on him.

She walked past the crowd, past the church, past the parking lot, all the way down to the end of the lake. She was away from everything else, but not from her own lingering thoughts.

There was no way she was leaving, she couldn’t allow herself to, no matter how much she wanted to run away and forgot about everything. Even from where she stood, she could hear the beats of the wedding music.

Can’t Help Falling In Love, Elvis Presley.

Tears welled up at the sides of her eyes as she remembered the last time she had heard that song. That was the song he had played from his car as they danced in the rain. It was one of his favourites, she always thought that that song would play as she walked down the aisle towards him. She supposed it was true for him, but only him.

Her feet had already started to move before her mind could even have the chance to make a decision.

There was an elderly couple just walking into the room, and luckily the doorman held the large wooden door open for her. She thanked him and took the grand venue in. On each bench, there was a bouquet of flowers, a white row leading up to the altar. It was packed, and she could only imagine how many people she was about to shock.

She sat in an empty aisle seat in the back, and finally realized that she was just reaching the top of the stairs, kissing her father’s cheek before he gave her over to him.

“Should I cut my hair?” He asked, looking at his hair in the mirror with a slight frown.

“No, I like it the way it is. It’s nice,” she said from the bed, her eyes still on the book in her hands.

“Eh, it’s too long; and it uses way too much gel to make it neat in the mornings. And it gets really messy again when I take my scrub cap off after surgery.”

She came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, nestling her face against his sides, “well, personally, I really like it, but it is your hair. You know I’ll still love you no matter how your hair is, even if you’re bald.

“If I’m bald this early in life, please leave me. My head does NOT look good bare, trust me.”

“Nope. I’ll still be with you, even if you’re bald and I still have a head full of thick hair. You’re mine forever,” a grin formed on his face and he turned around, planting his lips on hers.

“I better be.”

The once cherished moments only seemed to hurt her more than she already was. Sometimes memories are the worst form of torture, especially when the person who shared those memories is gone.

He looked just like she had imagined. In fact, he hadn’t changed that much. He was dressed in a sharp and expensive-looking tux, his hair gelled and combed perfectly, the only flaw was that his smile didn’t seem to reach his eyes.

He had done everything he told her he would never do, yet it was for another woman.

Swallowing back the growing lump in her throat, she tapped her foot nervously as the minister started to speak.

“We are gathered here today to celebrate-”

“Stop being such a poor sport!”

“You cheated! You know what, it doesn’t matter, because I know the real truth.”

“The truth? Fine, I’ll tell you the damn truth! Bryce Lahela sucks at Mario Kart!”

“You take that back!”

“Throughout their time together, they have realised that their dreams and aspirations are more meaningful through a beautiful combination of mutual love and support.”

“I’m proud of you.”

“It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Are you kidding? You got the first solo surgery of your class! You’ve come so far, Bryce. You study, you practice, heck, you’re at the hospital even more than I am! You deserve this, Bryce, you deserve everything good that you have in your life.”

“Does that include you? Because I still don’t think I deserve that one yet,” he smirked and kissed her forehead.

“As we create this marriage, we create a new bond and a new sense of family.”

“I hope our kids have your eyes.”

“If we’re thinking about children, I have no problem shoving them right back up there if they don’t look exactly like you.”

“Bryce, honey, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I’m just saying. Your eyes, your nose, your smile, I want them to have everything I love about you. Which is every single thing feature and personality trait of yours. Maybe except your sense of style, I think they’d be better off with mine.”

“Hey!”

“Now, before they begin their vows, if anyone can show just cause as to why this couple lawfully cannot be wed together in this holy matrimony,”

“You’re being ridiculous!”

“No, I’m the only one being reasonable! You can’t seriously think that I’m just going to let this go!”

“Where are we going? We’re stuck in the same spot and have been for a long time, I can’t do it anymore!”

“Then don’t,” she croaked out, the quietest any one of them had been that entire conversation.

“Speak now, or forever hold your pe-”

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” she wiped away the tears at the side of her eyes as he held her closer to his chest, “and I’m terrified.”

She pushed her doubts away and stood up, interrupting the silence in the church.

Almost immediately, every single eye was on her, except one pair, the only pair of eyes she wanted to look at her. Gasps rippled all throughout the crowd, one woman even let out a horrified yell, and a man a few rows in front of her scoffed. The commotion was big enough to draw the bride and groom’s attention away from each other.

A surge of warmth flowed through her body as his brown eyes connected to hers.

Bryce’s emotions went in flashes. He was a bit confused at first, as to why their loved ones were making so much noise just as they were about to be married. Then it was anger after realising that it was a result of someone objecting to their wedding. Lastly, it was sadness after he saw who exactly had stopped them.

Maybe it was because he hasn’t seen her since she walked out. Maybe it was because she was ruining his special day. Maybe it was because he knew she had lost her chance years ago, and that even he knew it was too late to turn back time.

Maybe it was because he knew exactly how this situation would turn out. Maybe it was because he was about to have to break her heart one last time.

She took a shuddering breath, then uttered those three little words that could shatter the hearts of everyone in the room. But she ignored the appalled expressions of the crowd, she ignored the angry expression of Keiki, ignored the devastated look on the woman who stood on the very spot she had hoped for so long to stand in.

Instead, she focused on the man at the very end of the altar, desperation and longing in her eyes. Instead, she focused on him, on the smallest quirk at the side of his lips, the smallest chance that he could still provide her with the hope and love that he had once promised so long ago.

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katie-writes24 · 3 years

Text

Last Chance

Pairing: Alexander Hamilton x reader

Warnings: Language, suggestive material, brief religious content ig, angst, fluff, weddings, bad officiant script (if that makes sense), irl it’s kinda wrong but just go with it.

Part 2

I’ll just get straight to the point, Taylor Swift was the cause of this..... That’s it! You’re welcome, enjoy! Lemme know if you want to be tagged. Oh and also, can we appreciate that I finally figured out to put the ‘keep reading’ feature on because I finally set tumblr up on my computer? Yay me, this is a life changer you don’t even know!

As a kid, Y/N would be dragged to church every Sunday, told to represent her supposedly "religious" family. Her mother would force her into a dress, always reminding her to "sit like a lady" since there were always boys present, and you just never know. They would go and learn about the god above, be thankful that they were brought here, cheer his name.

When she was fourteen, she went into church on a Monday, this time for a funeral. She automatically noticed the change in tone, obviously, but since then she looked at churches a bit different. They weren't praised as much, they held an entire different meaning, one that wasn’t very happy at all. No, she learned that churches could be just as devastating as celebratory.

Like now, where people gathered in front of the steps, mingling and wearing expensive clothing. There was a truck on the lawn, workers were shoving different table sets across the road, where a large tent was set up. There was a group of people laughing a couple feet away, all looking down at a little girl with a white dress on. A stretch limousine rolled around and a few women climbed out with grace, all wearing the same pale color.

Truly devastating.

Y/N tugged at her own dress, hoping that the simple color would at least help her blend in with the crowd. Maria had told her it would be just fine, and it’s not like a new fancy dress was in her budget.

Besides, it’s not like anyone here cares about her appearance. They’re not here for her. In fact, she hadn’t found one familiar face yet, which should be a good thing, but Y/N couldn’t help but wonder how many of these guests both parties even knew.

“Would you ever get married?”

He scoffed, “Marriage isn’t very meaningful is it, why should I have to document my love for you? As long as we both know it right?”

“Okay...I guess you’re right, but I wouldn’t mind seeing you in a nice tux.” She wiggled her eyebrows, but it didn’t bother him.

“Is that all you’d want a wedding for? Because I will gladly put on a fancy tux if it meant you’d be down to-”

“Shut up! No, that’s not all. I’d like one, I’d think it’d be nice. It wouldn’t even have to be a big one.” She could see them by the beach, perhaps even getting married at the courthouse and use their money to blow on a big dinner after. She wouldn’t even mind a service in their apartment, it’s roomy.

“Well, not like I have anyone for a big wedding anyways…”

She sat down next to him and stroked her fingers through his hair. “We’d invite our friends. I could invite my mom, you know she loves you. We don’t need a bunch of people to have a wedding.”

“Good, because I don’t want a giant guest list where there are different number tables and- a full service and a grand ceremony. I just...I just want you.”

She wonders how much of this is total bullshit.

From where she’s standing, Y/N doesn’t think anyone would approach her. The lake is quite breathtaking, but the crowd is full of anxiousness and people are patiently waiting for the ceremony to start by the front of the church.

Some people pass her by, and she picks up on certain terms, like how “beautiful the church is” or “she picked out the perfect dress, Philip was crying it was so pretty” and her favorite “just wait till you see this guy, they are just perfect for each other.”

Perfect.

“I told you I can’t dance.”

“And I was a fool to not believe you. My feet are killing me,” He smirked and then laughed as she hit his shoulder.

“Fuck off! Why are we doing this again?” She looked up at the sky that cracked before her, grey clouds mushing together.

“Because dancing in the rain is on my bucket list,” He twirled her around, pulling her close when she fumbled out of the turn.

“Okay, what does that have to do with me? You’re telling me all your years before we met you couldn’t have gone outside and danced?” She grimaced as she felt drops of water against her skin.

“Maybe I was waiting for the perfect person to do it with?” A hand wrapped around her waist and she chuckled.

“Perfect? I am far from perfect,” They met each other’s stare and she got butterflies just seeing that look in his eye.

“Well, then this is perfect,” The rain started to beat against the cement below them. “You and me, here right now, together. It’s perfect.”

Lost in her own thoughts, she didn’t hear anybody approach until they called her name. Y/N turned her head a little too fast, scared that she would be caught, there would be a giant scene, and then she would lose her chance at-

At what exactly? She didn’t know either.

“That’s really you, isn’t it?”

Hercules always was so welcoming, she never felt out of place when she was around him. In fact, he actually had a small smile on now, dressed nicely in his, most likely own, tailored suit.

“Hey, Herc,” Y/N gripped her own arm, unsure if it was appropriate to go in for a hug. “You look nice.”

“Thank you, I made it myself.” He chuckled and opened his arms, allowing her to view his form. He looked just the same as she had seen him almost two years ago.

“It’s definitely you! Did that business of yours ever hit it off with the investors?” Maybe she was aiming for small talk in hope of a distraction, she wasn’t ready for the obvious to be out in the open just yet.

“No, but I’m working with something better. Got a lot of new line ups, good people to work with…” Hercules trailed off with a fond smile on his face.

“I’m really happy for you, Herc. You deserve it!”

He smiled, “What about you? What have you been up to?”

Y/N winced and tried not to fidget. “Still working for the same place, I actually got a promotion a couple months ago, so I’ve been busy with that...But everything else has been...things are going well.”

Hercules nodded, and just like a wave, tension flooded the air around them.

Y/N refused to look up and meet his eyes, to either see full curiosity, disappointment or any other mood that would just make her feel sick to her stomach, will have her asking the same question over and over to herself. However, the silence couldn’t stay too long.

“Y/N, what...why are you here?”

An older woman was yelling at a worker, wanting more champagne for the bride's suite. She was aggressive, and yet the guests around her weren’t baffled at her behavior in the slightest. Y/N hated entitlement, hated more when the rich forgot that other people aren’t as fortunate enough as them.

Y/N also hated that Hercules was still staring at her while she was wondering if her own mother would be so stressed as to the point of lashing out at others.

“How long have they been engaged?” She finds herself asking only to quiet her thoughts of if they were stuck in one place and never seemed to want more.

“Eight months,” Hercules sighed, never being one to push and always being honest. “Eliza’s sweet, she has a good heart. She’s loyal-”

Ouch.

“And she makes him happy.”

“Do you think we were ever… not happy?” Her eyes finally met his, instantly going soft and trying to word his answer carefully, even though Y/N could see a straight answer on his face.

“I think...you guys worked around each other well. I think you enjoyed each other’s company, and maybe you might have been in love once, but that’s in the past. Right now, over a hundred people are going to celebrate what’s best for him and Eliza…”

He’s not marrying you, he’s not with you.

It was something unspoken, but Y/N knew that was what Hercules was trying to get at, letting her know that her presence was unwelcome and that this was for the best.

Why was she here? Why did she think that today would be the day to confess her feelings that never drifted away? Why was she so selfish, and think that her happiness was more important than-

Someone approaches them rather quickly, and it makes her turn and brace for an attack.

Instead, it’s just John.

“What are you doing here? You’re not supposed to be here, you weren’t invited!” He was loud and he was causing a scene, something Y/N definitely did not want. He actually looked like he was about to jump her, but before he could move any closer Hercules puts his arm on John’s chest to block him.

“Relax, John,” Hercules looked back at her with a pointed look. “Y/N was just leaving.”

There was a pause, and she almost believed that yes, she was leaving. This was her cue, no one wanted her here, she wasn’t supposed to be here. Who is she to ruin a wedding? How could she do something so terrible?

“You should move in,” He ran his hand over her back, listening to her slow breaths.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’d be nice, having you here all the time?” He knew she was drifting off and probably wasn’t even registering what he was saying. He was proven wrong when she raised her head to look at him in the dark light.

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt seeing you all day,” Y/N smirked as he nudged her with his leg. She kissed his chest and smiled down at him. “If I move in, there’s no turning back. Rent is too high for me to be switching back and forth.”

“I couldn’t think of anywhere else I'd want you to be.”

Y/N gave him a curt nod, walking backwards a bit before fully turning around. She walked all the way pass the church, passed the parking lot, all the way down to the end of the lake. She was out of sight.

But there was no way she was leaving. There was no way she was going to give up her last chance.

Even from where she stood, she could hear the beats of the traditional wedding music pick up, cheers from the crowd pick up as everyone hustled inside.

Her feet moved before she could even make a decision.

There was an elderly couple just walking into the room, and luckily the man held the door open for her. She thanked him and took the grand venue in. On each bench there was a bouquet of flowers, a white row leading up to the altar. It was packed, and Y/N could only imagine how many people she was about to shock.

She sat in an empty aisle seat in the back, and finally realized that Eliza was just reaching the top of the stairs, kissing her fathers cheek before he gave her over to him.

“Should I get a haircut?”

“No. I like it the way it is. You have nice hair, it’s soft and always so full. Why would you want to chop it off?” She caressed said hair.

“Eh, it’s too long. I think it’s a hassle to work with when I’m getting ready for work. I don’t know…” He looked in the mirror with a pained face. She came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his chest, leaning her cheek on his back.

“Well, personally, I like it. But it is your hair. You know I’d love you either way.”

“Are you just being biased?”

“Mmh, well, I can’t say I don’t like having something to pull on.” She tugged and he whimpered before turning and kissing her, a full grin on his face.

He looked just like Y/N imagined him. In fact he hasn’t changed, except maybe the circles under his eyes got a bit darker. His hair was neatly wrapped in a ponytail behind his head, sharp tux on, a smile on his face.

Except none of that was for Y/N, it was for another woman.

Swallowing back the lump in her throat she cleared her throat, tapping her foot nervously as the officiant started speaking.

“We are gathered here today to celebrate the love of Alexander and Elizabeth.”

“Stop being such a poor sport.”

“You so cheated! You know what, it’s fine. Because I know what really happened.”

“I’ll tell you what happened: Mr. Hamilton sucks at Mario Kart!”

“You take that back!”

“Through their time together, they have realized that their goals and dreams are more meaningful through a combined effort and mutual support provided in love.”

“I’m proud of you.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“You got promoted, Alex! You’ve come so far since we met. You work so hard, you stay late at work, you stress yourself out far too much for my liking. But you got exactly where you wanted to be! And from here you can only go up! I’m proud of you!”

He smiled, kissing her knuckles and thanking her.

“As we create this marriage, we create a new bond and a new sense of family.”

“I hope our kids have your eyes.”

“If we’re thinking about children, I have no problem shoving them right back if they don’t look exactly like you.”

“Alex, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I’m just saying. Your eyes, your nose, I even want them to be as witty as you.”

“I hope they don’t have your sense of style.”

“Hey!”

“Now, before we begin the vows, if anyone can show just cause why this couple cannot lawfully be joined together in matrimony-”

“You’re acting crazy!”

“No, I’m acting reasonable! You can’t seriously think that you were just going to let this go?”

“Where are we going, Y/N? We’re stuck in this one spot, and I can’t do it anymore!”

“Then don’t!”

“Let them speak now, or forever hold their peace.”

“I think I’m falling in love with you…” She wiped the tears from her eyes as he held her closely to his chest. “And I’m terrified.”

Y/N stands without letting herself have any more doubts.

Almost immediately, attention is drawn. There are gasps in the crowd, one woman even let out a horrid yell. The man sitting a couple feet away even scoffs, like Y/N’s idea was ridiculous. It’s enough commotion that causes the bride and groom to look her way.

Warmth filled her as his brown eyes connected with hers.

It went in flashes, Alexander’s emotions. First he was a bit confused, almost as to why their loved ones were making such noise. Then, it was anger, finally realizing that it was because someone was objecting to his wedding. And as their eyes connected, it was like he was sad.

Maybe it was because he hasn’t seen her since she walked out. Maybe it was because she was ruining his special day. Maybe it was because he knew she lost her chance years ago, and that even he knew it was too late.

Maybe it was because he knew the outcome of this.

Y/N took a shuddering breath, before saying the three words that could easily crush the hearts of everyone in this room. But she ignored the appalled crowd, she ignored the angry face of John right next to Alex, she didn’t even want to see how broken Eliza must look right now.

Instead, she focused on the very small quirk of Alexander’s lips, the small chance of hope that was promised.

#alexander hamilton x reader #alexander hamilton x oc #alexander hamilton imagine #my writings #alexander hamilton fic #hamilton fic #hamilton fanfiction #hamilton fanfic #I should probably rewrite this #but it's whatever for now #I've had no inspiration for the past four days and then suddenly at 4 am I finished this #soooo yeah #hamilton imagine #okay but this is totally inspired by speak now and exile

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bumbershots · 3 years

Text

A CERTAIN ROMANCE

CHAPTER TWO: MONDAY THROUGH FRIDAY

Author’s note: Hello! Thanks a lot to everyone for reading this, I’m over the moon with the messages you sent after posting the first chapter. Keep them coming, and enjoy! ~ Alex

Story Masterlist ** Word count 2.3K **

If she was prettier and a bit smarter. If she were special, like the Instagram models that Teen Vogue features in their cover nowadays. She would have the guts to take three steps towards him and ask if he is who she thinks he is.

Harry is standing once again across from her, and she doesn't even know that he is wearing his beloved woolly jumper that has a picture of the planet Saturn on it, just for her. The girl wonders if they've heard of Styles on that planet, too. Of course they have, she scolds herself looking away from him at last, not believing her luck. For the third time on a Thursday, at half past three, he's jumping in the train right after her. The first time could've been luck, second one was a lovely coincidence but a third time? It's a charm. That's what her grandma would say.

But she isn't brave enough to walk up to him, not because of who he is, but the pressure and build up around the entire situation. What if he's a dickhead? She frowns at the thought, knowing it can't be true, not when his eyes, the so-called windows of the soul, are that nice.

They're both in a corner of the train this time, conversations start to sputter around as people try to keep their own talk ticking along on autopilot. He seems to be busy, reading Keith Richards' autobiography, she wants to talk to him about it, it's been a while since she read it though she still remembers it clear as day. The next one is his stop, she sighs in defeat at her own cowardly nature and takes out her mobile only to look busy.

Harry wants to talk to her, this is the third Thursday in a row, he's afraid there won't be a fourth one. He's back from his last meeting with Jack and Fernando, everything is set to start the renovation. He won't be taking this route anymore, it's now or never. But it's harder than he thought, to approach her and that's it, he doesn't know what he's supposed to do once he stands before her.

The speaker announces his stop, but instead of leaning away from the wall and walking out of the train, he flips the page of his book, letting the doors close and stays on the carriage for the next station. He is so nervous, a bit scared of his bold choice to stay on the line without a well defined plan. He's never been this nervous about talking to someone, the butterflies on his tummy at the mere sight of her are restless. Maybe if he scoots closer, little by little, he can nudge her side and mouth her a polite "hello," a warm smile afterwards so she doesn't think it's a come on. Except it is.

Harry closes his book, deciding that it's stupid and honesty is the best way to anything. He will just greet her and ask if he can buy her a cup of coffee someday, easy, breezy like Jack says. His green eyes follow her out of the train, they just reach Colindale station, before he can process what is going on or even move, the doors close and the vehicle is moving back to the tunnel. Away from her and his last chance. His mouth is dry and it's like he stuffed it to the brim with cotton.

He got off on Burnt Oak and switched direction, he was so mad at himself, the deep frown on his face said it all. This was supposed to be his chick flick moment and he ruined it by not doing anything at all. He keeps his face glued to the door closest to him, waiting for her to come up and smile at him in that knowing way. Perhaps then he would stand tall, mention that cup of coffee after introductions are made and she will agree. But she doesn't come back on the next station, or the three following ones. Harry gets off the train with a cloud looming above him, the wind is blowing in that nasty way that announces a storm following suit. The singer hurries to his home, trying to beat it.

The rain comes out of nowhere in full force just as Harry walks through his front gate, dashing to the inside of his house. He decides to fix himself a light lunch to keep his mind from wondering if she made it to her destination before the rain caught up with her. A text message from Jack does the trick, he sent him the address for Freddie's birthday. Harry can't believe that's tonight.

"Hello stranger," Gemma's voice greets the musician after the second ring. "All right?"

"All right, just forgot about plans I had for the evening," he hated to cancel dinner with his sister, "come with me?" Harry's tone is hopeful, she can almost picture his adorable cherub face, eyes sparkling.

"Is it with your teenage friends?" He hums trying to come up with a lie, "Harry we can have our dinner tomorrow night instead, I don't mind." As much as she loves her brother, that doesn't extend to that certain group of acquaintances.

"They're not that bad!"

"Baby brother, have fun with the lads, I'll see you tomorrow, pick me up at eight o'clock." She states before ending the call. Harry huffs before finishing his veggie wrap and jumps in the shower.

Perhaps he should've told Gemma that his mood tonight wasn't the best, that although he wanted to go out and about, he didn't want to do it alone. But her reasons to avoid his less mature group of mates are valid so he grabs his parka and his phone and, a little stooped, heads for the flat where the party is held.

A few years ago, he set himself three tasks: prioritise friends, learn how to be an adult, achieve a proper balance between the big and the small. Harry genuinely loves the fittings of his outfits before tour, playing his music for thousands. But he realised, as well, that the coolest things are not always the cool things. Tonight he's hearing anecdotes of how his friends sold almost everything they owned, to be able to afford a trip to the World Cup in Russia the year before. He knows that England almost made it to the final, but to see the agony and pain reflected on Freddie's eyes as he tells the story is truly humbling and heartbreaking.

"They had to escort me out, an hour after the match ended." The birthday lad finishes with glossy eyes. "I've never felt so powerless in my life, the world just seemed so unfair from then on, you know?" Harry doesn't, but he nods and finishes his drink. "But enough about good old me, what about you?"

"Same old, touring for a while, back in British soil before I take off again." He doesn't like giving rehearsed answers to his friends, but they're surrounded by at least a dozen people carrying out their own conversations while straining to hear what Styles says.

"Thinking about the next album already?" His friend's amazement is genuine, "can't believe what you'll hit me with next!" Freddie was his rocker friend. The one with an expensive vinyl collection, the one to never miss a Rolling Stones show, the one that religiously attended Glastonbury every year. Remembering this, Harry relaxed and decided to share with him a topic that left him vulnerable.

"You can expect a lot of break up songs that's for sure," he tries to joke but Freddie's smile falters a bit.

"How long has it been?"

"It'll be a year next month." He can't believe it still feels so recent and not at the same time. "I'm getting used to it." Freddie sighs and nods in understanding.

"I'm sorry you have to go through a shit thing like that, you're one of the good ones H," the green eyed musician is blushing, waving his hand at his companion in an attempt to dismiss his words. "It's the truth I mean... look around us, Jack has been on and off with Alexis for years," the two men observe the couple they're discussing, nothing seems wrong with them but Freddie's words are true, Jack has a habit of calling it quits with the redhead once she brings up marriage. "Kiera and Mosas cheat on each other all the time, we're not even sure if they're still together at this point... last but not least you have Alf, Christophe, Ruben and myself, four emotionally unavailable men who can't commit because they can't get their shit together." Silence takes over the two friends, it's deafening even though the background music can be heard loud and clear.

"I made some shitty decisions too, that's what drove her away," Harry wants to continue, the tequila shots seemed to have loosened his tongue.

"No, no, no you listen to me," Freddie's hands hold his younger friend's face carefully. "I know you're not a dishonest scummy man, you're allowed to make mistakes in a relationship and learn from them... don't be like Alf," he lets Harry's face go and nods towards the tallest guy in the room, "he had a brief relationship with a Portuguese girl, charmed her socks off and when she planned to move here guess what he did?"

"What?" Harry knew the answer, but he wanted to give his friend the benefit of the doubt.

"He cuts her off! Ghosting is what they call it nowadays. Just like that... and you think he learned, except that he doesn't!" His friend is now sounding too frustrated. "I saw him do the same thing to Al, perhaps it was a bit different she already lived here but she wanted more and just—" he can't finish his thought and Harry feels for his friend. "We all do that, it's a trend."

"Must be something in the water." The curly one tries to joke and he earns a soft smile from the birthday guy, along with a heartwarming hug. "You can always ring me Freddie, to chat and if I'm home see each other." Harry knows this is something new in their friendship, but he feels it necessary, after so many years of knowing each other. He can tell that Freddie is trying to find his way into adulthood, something that Harry had to experience at a much younger age due to his career.

"Thanks mate, I would really like that." Harry is about to ask Freddie about his family's well-being when a figure entering the room caught his eye, she was wearing the burgundy coat like that first Thursday he was lucky enough to lay eyes on her, high-waisted trousers. The newsboy cap was missing though, but he was glad because it gave her curly hair the freedom it lacked before.

Of all the places where he thought they might meet again, his friend's birthday party was certainly not on the list. She was here, greeting Jack and the others, pulling her sleeve to show how uncomfortable she was at making small talk with Alexis and Keira. She has to crane her neck up a bit when talking to, well pretty much anyone in the room.

This is the miracle he's been waiting for, he thinks just as the song changes to The Beach Boys' and a small smirk threatens to expand on Harry's lips, he does want to ask her if she wants to dance like the sixties tune suggested.

"Harry it's nice to see you again!" Fernando stands in the way blocking the view between the musician and the tube girl. He cringes a bit at the nickname and makes a mental note to learn her name, the sooner the better.

"Fer, I have missed you since we last saw each other earlier today," the architect laughs and so does Freddie. "Would you like a beer?" Forever polite Harry asks.

"No, I'm driving tonight but I'll fetch one for my sister," he says stepping around the bar where Harry and Freddie have been leaning against for the past hour, "I'm starving though, do you mind if I order something Fred?"

"I have some pizza in the fridge man, help yourself." Fernando thanks him before nodding to the person standing behind Harry.

"This beer alright?" Harry turns around just in time to meet a pair of chocolate eyes staring at the guy behind the bar and nod in acceptance. "You already know Freddie and this is Harry," the curly guy is speechless, now up close she seems prettier than before and real. "Harry this is my sister Alma." She smiles in a sweet way that makes the pop star wonder if he's about to go into cardiac arrest.

"I saw you in the tube, Hampstead station guy!" Her voice was nothing like he had imagined, it was raspy and a hint of an accent he couldn't quite put his finger on was swimming through her words.

"That's me..." he admitted, the pink blush from his cheekbones migrating to his ears. Alma thought he looked adorable.

"Do you wanna dance?" She asked after a big gulp of her beer. All star by Smash Mouth just started playing, that was definitely not what Harry wanted to dance with her. Not that he had a secret plan to woo her with his moves, he wasn't the best dancer.

But he took her hand and let her lead the way to the unofficial dance floor, that on a regular day was the dining room. Oblivious to all the eyes focusing on them, Harry allowed himself to enjoy the unexpected turn of events, he had already wasted precious time not talking to this marvellous woman. Like Freddie said, he had to learn from his mistakes, instead of repeating them.

///

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///

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#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles oc #harry styles series #harry fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles ou #harry styles fan fic

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doc-pickles · 3 years

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never thought i’d see it break

okay listen.... i am sorry for this fic, mainly because i know some of y’all are going to drag me into the ground for this. but i wanted to write some angst and while it might not be super angsty in theory it definitely counts because our favorite idiots don’t end up together. like at all. so once again, sorry for any mental anguish i may cause, i promise i’ll make it up to you guys tomorrow.

also i cried writing this so good luck

Halloween 2020

She really didn’t think that the day would hit her so hard. The days leading up to it had been uneventful, the decorations lining the halls at work not fazing her in the slightest as she went about her daily routine. But when Jo woke up on Halloween morning, it felt like the past year of her life was slapping her in the face. The cold harsh reality of her husband up and leaving her sat deep in the pit of her stomach, her mind reeling as she laid in bed.

“Are you getting up today,” Levi looked at Jo from his position on the couch, eyeing her warily. “Because I had plans but I can cancel them.” “Get out, go away,” Jo’s monotone voice was barely above a mumble as she stared menacingly at Levi. “Let me wallow once again in the realization that my marriage has failed and I will probably die alone. Or with you. Can’t tell which of those is worse.”

Levi blew out a short breath, gathering his things and letting Jo know he was going to hang out with Nico for the day. Once the door to the loft was closed and locked, Jo reached beneath her bed and pulled out a large black box. Pulling the lid off, her breath caught in her throat as she took in the contents of the box.

Laying on top was a ratty tshirt, one that Jo had once religiously worn as she climbed into bed every night. The faded Iowa State logo stared up at her with a menacing aura, the memories that came with it too painful for Jo to relive. She set it aside and reached for the photo album below it, the dusty jacket brandishing a name she’d wished she could forget but rang through her mind everyday.

The Karev’s.

She knew it was torture, opening the book up to look at photos of a day that was once happy and beautiful but now filled her eyes with tears, but she did it anyways. The shades of blue and yellow that graced the pages, the smiling faces of their friends, of him, were like a glowering unwanted sign that her life had taken a detour that she had neither wanted nor anticipated. It didn’t help that there was a Polaroid tucked into the back page, her and Alex grinning at the camera with fake blood and vampire fangs adorning their faces.

Hastily shoving the photobook and shirt back into the box, Jo ignored the numerous photos, ticket stubs, letters, and other memorabilia from the years she’d spent with Alex and shoved the box back under the bed. Why she’d thought taking it out was a good idea she would never know, but the feeling that had been blossoming when she woke up was now taking over her entire chest in a painful display.

How had her life been so different a year ago? Sure it wasn’t ever picture perfect, her and Alex had their differences but they’d always worked through whatever was thrown at them together. His dad, DeLuca, Paul, him getting fired, her mom… every single problem they’d faced in their seven years together had been done exactly like that, together. Whether by choice or by reluctant agreement, the two were always there for one another, but apparently ex wives with two children she kept a secret for five years was where they drew the line. Where Alex drew the line.

Knowing she wouldn’t be doing the laundry that was piling up or scrubbing the sinks that needed some TLC, Jo settled back into bed, eyes watering as she scooted to the right side of the bed and clutched the now unused pillow that lay there. It didn’t smell like him any longer, but the comfort of holding the fabric to her chest still held.

That’s where Meredith found her hours later, tear stains across her cheeks as she slept through the afternoon. A heavy sigh left the blonde as she settled onto the edge of the bed, one hand patting Jo’s shoulder affectionately as she woke.

“Schmitt texted, he said you were wallowing in misery so I figured that was a cry for help,” Meredith let out a chuckle at Jo’s angry expression. “Come on, you can come take the kids trick or treating with me, it’ll be a good distraction.”

“I don’t want to move,” Jo mumbled into her pillow, eyes barely moving to meet Meredith’s. “I want to lay here until I sink so far into the mattress that no one can ever find me again.” “Jo, it’s been months. And I know it’s not easy, but you’ve been so strong through all of this, I’d hate to see one day ruin everything for you,” Jo sighed at Meredith’s words, knowing her friend was right. “If you get up now I will pour wine into a tumbler for you to drink while we walk around.” “Fine,” Jo rolled out of bed, glaring at Meredith as she did so. “But I’m only getting up for the wine.”

Halloween 2023

“You know I don’t normally interact with other humans on Halloween.”

Jo stood in the doorway of her apartment, a grin on her face as she looked at the man in front of her. His grin was threatening to overtake his face as he leaned down and kissed her sweetly, one arm wrapping around her waist, “I brought beer and scary movies, will you let me in now?”

“Okay fine, only because of the beer and not because I like you so much,” Jo rolled her eyes and opened the door fully, letting Jack into the apartment and locking the door behind him. “Please tell me you have Scream in your collection, otherwise I don’t think this is gonna work out.”

Jack pulled out the aforementioned DVD case, eliciting a cheer from Jo as he set up the movie. She really didn’t think she’d been this happy in a long time, the feeling of happiness bubbling in her chest as she grabbed popcorn an altogether new experience.

When she’d picked up a Safe Haven baby from Station 19 four months ago, she hadn’t expected to have an hour and a half long conversation with Jack Gibson, who’d been sitting with the little girl before she’d arrived. Their conversation flowed so easily that the two had picked it up over dinner that night and the rest was history.

She hadn’t seen anyone since Alex left, she hadn’t wanted to waste time on something that was going to leave her heartbroken again because she just couldn’t do that. But the connection she felt with Jack was real and exciting and something Jo hadn’t realized she’d needed until she had it. It almost distracted her from the fact that today her and Alex should be celebrating four years of marriage together. Almost.

“Are you dazing out again over there,” Jack’s voice was light and cheery, but Jo could see the concern etched on his face as soon as he took a good look at her. “Hey, what’s wrong? We can watch Poltergeist if that’s what you want.”

A heavy sigh left Jo as she realized that she’d have to tell someone else exactly why today was one of her least favorite days of the year. Of course Jack knew that she was divorced, he’d met Alex once or twice when bringing in patients but he didn’t know everything. It wasn’t something that you should burden your partner with four months into your relationship, the ways that you failed in your previous marriage.

“I was married. Obviously. And we got married on Halloween, so that’s why I don’t like being around people today, because it still sucks,” Jo’s gaze was concentrated on her fingers as she spoke, not wanting to see the pitiful expression on Jack’s face as she relayed her tragic backstory. “And I didn’t really wanna bring it up because you… you are the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time and I don’t want to ruin that by talking about my failed marriage.”

Eyes finally flitting up to look at Jack, Jo was startled to find empathy instead of pity in his expression. She knew he’d had a rough upbringing like her, that neither of them had been handed anything they had in life, but the unexpected compassion and Jack showed her always took her by surprise.

“You are a badass. And for the record, you’re the best thing that’s happened for me in quite awhile too,” Jack wrapped his arms around Jo and brought her into his chest, pressing a kiss into her hair. “Would it make you feel better if we played a drinking game and got ridiculously drunk?”

“You know me so well,” Jo giggled as her eyes met Jack’s, his green eyes sparkling with that same sense of compassion that he always wore so brightly when he was around her.

The two settled in for a night filled with laughter, shots, and scary movies as Jack cracked jokes all night, making sure that the smile on her face never left. For once Jo didn’t feel like the day consisted of her replaying all of her past mistakes. Instead, for the first time in a long time, Halloween felt like a new beginning.

Halloween 2025

“Oh man it is too early to be awake,” Jo’s groans echoed through the empty fire station, her feet leading her towards the soft voices she heard. “Hello? Anyone here?”

“We’re in here,” a smirk played onto Jo’s face at the sound of her boyfriend's voice, not expecting to see him today. “Hey there.”

“Hey yourself, who do you have there,” Jo walked further into the room that Jack sat in, a tiny bundle settled in his arms. She peeked over his shoulder, taking in the dark curls and soft features of the baby he held. “Well aren’t you a cutie. How long have you had her?”

“Just an hour or so, she’s been perfectly calm,” Jack looked up to Jo, gladly accepting the kiss she placed on his lips. “Usually by now they’re screaming at me, but this one hasn’t wanted anything except snuggles.”

“Maybe you’ve just got the magic touch with this one,” Jo settled into the chair across from Jack, giggling at the faces he pulled as he tried to entertain the baby. “She seems content there.”

“It sucks, she’s got no family and she doesn’t even get to celebrate her first holiday,” Jack’s finger ran across the baby’s cheek, eliciting a quiet coo from the little girl. “Oh I know sweetheart, maybe if you’re lucky the nice doctors will sneak you a lollipop.”

Jo’s heart leapt at the sight before her, fingers twisting the silver chain across her neck. She’d been to the fire station to pick up babies more than she’d like to say in the past few years, but seeing the tiny infants cradled in Jack’s arms always made her heart burst.

“How do you feel about stealing a baby,” Jack’s eyes widened as they met Jo’s, a grin taking over her face at the shocked look he wore. “Cmon, trust me on this one. It’ll just be for a little bit, plus you’re off now right?”

“Yes, but now I’m concerned about what my girlfriend has planned for this poor innocent baby.” +

“I give you about ten minutes of this before someone calls you out and we get arrested,” Jack’s eyes nervously flitted around the bustling Peds ward. “I will give you props though, she looks pretty cute.” Jo turned from the sight of children running down the hospital halls to the infant in Jack’s arms. They’d stopped at Target before coming to the hospital, grabbing a pumpkin costume to put on the newborn before they took her around the Peds ward to trick or treat. Jack and Jo both knew that they were being a little silly, but they wanted the little girl to have at least one day where she felt loved.

“Of course she does, she’s the cutest little baby in the world. Aren’t you Hallie? Yes you are,” Jo grabbed the infant’s foot, looking up to Jack who was staring her down with an unamused expression. “What? She needed a name and I watched Parent Trap last night. Plus it’s kind of fitting, Hallie… Halloween… Oh you’re just a party pooper!”

“Jo! What’re you doing here,” Link sauntered up to Jo and Jack with a smile, sleeping baby strapped to his chest. “Woah who's baby is that? Did you hide a pregnancy from me for nine months?”

Jo’s eyes widened as she stared her best friend down, lightly slapping his arm, “No you idiot, this is Hallie. She’s a Safe Haven baby, but we wanted to dress her up and let her have some fun before we turned her over.”

Links gaze floated from the baby still cuddled against Jack to Jo who was perfectly settled into his side. He held his hand out, a knowing smirk on his face, “Give me your phone, I’ll take a picture of you guys.”

Without hesitation, Jo handed the object over and both her and Jack wore bright smiles as Link snapped the picture. He handed the phone back, both adults leaning in to look at the photo in awe.

“I give you about a week,” Link chuckled, both Jo and Jack too caught up in the infant with them to notice his words. “I’ll see you guys later!”

Jo absentmindedly waved her friend off, grabbing Hallie from Jack’s arms and bringing her to her own chest. The little girl blinked up at Jo before settling contentedly against her, eyes closing in a matter of seconds.

“You know, she seems pretty content with us,” Jo looked up from the baby to her boyfriend with wide eyes, not believing the words she was hearing. “What? She does, she’s barely cried since I got her this morning and looks so comfy snuggled up with you.”

“You are pretty cute, I’m just gonna sneak you out and take you home,” Jo squeezed the hand of the infant, looking up at Jack who was staring at her with an awed look. “What? Do I have baby spit up on me?”

“Nothing, you just look good. You’re a natural,” Jack brought Jo back into his side, pressing a kiss to her head. “I love you.” “I love you too,” Jo laughed as the baby burped loudly before settling herself back against Jo. “And I think she likes you too.”

Halloween 2030

“Bailey, I just finished my charts and I am heading out,” Jo sighed as she set her arms on the nurses station, head leaning warily against one hand. “I’m off for the rest of the day, I’m just going to check on Mr. Olsen in the ER before I duck out. Pretty sure my kids are driving their dad nuts and the addition of sugar tonight won’t help with that.”

Bailey let a laugh out, dismissing Jo for the day and letting the younger woman know she wasn’t needed the next day. A sigh left her as she climbed into the elevator with her purse in tow, Jo finally feeling a small sense of relief.

“You are not making my job easier, you’re much more troublesome than your brother,” Jo settled one hand onto her growing baby bump, a strong kick meeting her hand as she rolled her eyes. “Typical. You’re going to have your sister's attitude aren't you?”

The elevator dinged loudly, bringing Jo away from her conversation with her unborn child and into the real world. As she stepped off the elevator, her hands dug into her purse in search of her phone. She’d finally dug it out when she ran straight into whoever was walking in front of her.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I was ju-,” the air in Jo’s lungs left suddenly, as if it had been sucked away by a vacuum as she met the eyes of the person she’d bumped into. “Oh my god. Alex.”

Alex Karev, ten years older than when she’d seen him last, was standing not even two feet in front of Jo. Her heart was hammering as she stared at her ex husband, his presence the last thing she’d expected, especially today of all days.

“Hey Jo, good to see you,” hearing his voice almost brought tears to Jo’s eyes as she stared dumbly up at Alex. “I’m working on a case with Hayes for the week. You look good, happy… round.”

A small laugh escaped Jo then, her hand falling to her bump as she finally found her voice again, “Yeah, this one kinda popped out right away. Between that and my constant morning sickness, I couldn’t hide being pregnant for very long.”

“I’m glad, that you’re uh happy, that’s good to hear,” Jo watched Alex’s eyes flit to the wedding set on her left hand, then back up to her.

“Mama!”

Both Alex and Jo turned toward the excited voice sounding down the hallway, a head full of black curls flying past Alex as the little girl they belonged to wrapped her arms around Jo’s legs. A second shorter head of messy brown hair crashed into Jo’s legs, laughter escaping her as she tried to wrangle both children, “Okay you two, mom can’t breathe!”

“Sorry, they escaped as soon as I walked through the door,” Jack appeared next to Jo a second later, pressing a kiss to her cheek before turning to Alex. If he was shocked to see the man, he hid it well as he extended his hand towards him. “Hey, Jack Gibson. Alex, right?” “Yeah, nice to meet you,” Alex shook Jack’s hand with a small smile, Jo’s heart skipping a beat at the unusual sight. “You guys have some good looking kids.”

Jo laughed, her face lighting up as she looked at the two children now preoccupied with a game of tag, “I can’t take all the credit, Max is Jack’s clone and Hallie just kinda… fell into our laps. She’s got my attitude though, if that counts for anything.” “That counts for everything, you know she uses that to get whatever she wants,” Jack slung his arm around Jo’s shoulder as she leaned into him, her hand coming back to her burgeoning stomach. Jo could tell Alex was watching them, but she didn’t have the words to verbalize how odd it made her feel.

“I gotta go, but it was nice to meet you Jack,” Alex waved his hand at the other man, before turning to Jo. Their eyes met for a second and it almost felt like that day eleven years ago standing in a courtroom in the most ridiculous costumes. Jo’s throat tightened as she offered a watery smile to Alex, his own eyes glassy as they finally broke away from hers. “It was good to see you again Jo, it really is good to see you happy.”

Jo could only nod, lifting her hand in a wave to Alex, “You too Alex. Have a good stay.” Alex turned and left then, Jo’s eyes watching him until he turned a corner and was out of her view. The sight tugged at her heart strangely, her mind bringing up the image of him walking into an airport so many years ago and never turning around. She doesn’t realize there’s tears floating down her face until Jack nudges her lightly.

“You okay?” “Yeah,” Jo swipes at the tears that have pooled on her cheeks, turning to Jack with a smile. She leans up to press a kiss to his lips, holding on a bit longer than she normally would in public before pulling and meeting his green eyes with her brown. “I’m perfectly fine, just another Halloween. You guys ready to go?” Jack pauses for a moment, holding Jo’s stare before turning back to their kids who are still running around the hallway, “Yup, we just came to pick you up before we headed to Meredith’s. Hallie! Max! Let’s move it!” The two kids followed Jack and Jo out of the hospital, a string of laughter following the family as they made their way into the chilly Seattle air. Jo’s eyes lingered on the trauma bay as they left, remembering a day so long ago it felt like another lifetime when she’d first met the man she’d been married to. A swift kick to her ribs pulled her out of her thoughts, her fingers squeezing Jack’s as they made their way through the parking lot.

Just another Halloween….

#jolex #jolex halloween #alex karev #jo wilson #jo karev #jo x alex #jolex fanfic #jolex fic #greys anatomy #greys anatomy fanfic #nina writes

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sanderssidesfanfiction · 3 years

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If There’s a Place I Could Be - Chapter Fifty Nine

If There’s a Place I Could Be Tag

June 18th, 1995 Remy sat as still as he could in the church pew while the pastor continued to talk. Usually he just droned on and on for forty five minutes or so, but today he was riled up. He was yelling about fire and brimstone and God coming down to smite all the gays from the face of the earth.

There had been some serious niggling doubts in Remy’s mind concerning religion before, but this just sealed the deal for him. He was very much not going to believe in any god or gods who hated him just because he was gay.

Toby glanced at Remy and scribbled a note in the corner of the church bulletin. You okay?

Remy nodded, and wrote back, I’m okay. Just decidedly agnostic.

Toby bit back a snicker even as he winced in sympathy. Remy just shrugged and leaned back into the pew. Religion just wasn’t worth it.

March 31st, 2002

Remy woke up that morning slowly, for once consciousness not dumping a bucket of cold water on his head in order to get him awake, albeit groggy. He stretched, feeling the bedsheets...he paused. He felt the bedsheets in a lot more places than he normally did. He was naked.

Suddenly that bucket of cold water came crashing down and he bolted upright in bed with a gasp. “Holy shit,” he breathed, looking around wildly for his clothes. He found his briefs on the floor and pulled them on, cheeks flaring red like a forest fire. He kept cursing under his breath, hands shaking hard as he pulled up his briefs from the day before. He knew what had happened. He remembered what had happened, every dirty little detail. He had slept with Emile last night, in more than just the literal sense.

“Rem?” Emile asked softly from behind him. Remy turned to find Emile blinking owlishly at him from behind his glasses. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” Remy said, cheeks red as he realized that Emile was also waking up naked, and turning redder at the reaction that gathered from him.

“Aw, shit,” Emile said, pushing himself up and grabbing his clothes. “I was worried that we were going too fast, that we did it too soon. I thought...I worried that you’d wake up and instantly be a nervous wreck.”

Remy shoved shaking hands into the crooks of his arms, crossing them tight. “Emile...”

“Did I push you too far? Did I make you feel like you had to sleep with me?” Emile asked, as he got dressed. “God, Rem, I didn’t mean to do that—”

“—You didn’t,” Remy said. “I...I wanted that. It was...it was good. And...and I remember everything, you never did anything I didn’t ask you to do. You asked beforehand if you wanted to try something. You...respected me. You didn’t...you didn’t do what you’re worried about.”

“Okay,” Emile said, eyeing Remy. “But you’re still a nervous wreck from here.”

“Well...it’s not every day that you spend an entire evening and a good portion of the night just...yeah,” Remy said. “Especially since it was my first time doing... anything with a partner. I’m...God, can we skip this conversation? I don’t regret it, it was good—great, really. You were amazing and loving and there’s no one else I would have rather done it with, I’m just realizing that I did do it and while I’m not freaking out about losing my virginity, I am freaking out that what happened really happened and wasn’t just a wild dream that my mind had been showing with increasing frequency.”

Emile blinked. “There’s...a lot to unpack there. First and foremost, you’ve had dreams about this?”

“You haven’t?” Remy asked incredulously.

“I mean, I have, but that’s normal. You’re acting like there’s some big scandal or something. What am I missing?” Emile asked.

“That my family is very, very conservative and I just participated in gay sex out of wedlock for the first time,” Remy deadpanned. “I’m a little in shock.”

Emile stared at Remy for one, two, three seconds. Then he said, “A valid response.”

Remy shifted on his feet and went looking for his shirt and pants. Emile moved around their bed and stood there patiently, waiting for Remy to get dressed. Remy was still shaking, too much to be passed off as pre-coffee jitters. When he turned, Emile was just standing there, looking him over. “Religious guilt?” Emile asked.

“I’m not religious,” Remy said.

“You grew up in a religious family,” Emile pointed out. “My first time with a guy? I had a panic attack afterwards. Everything the church said about having sex before marriage, nevermind sex with another guy, made me convinced I was going to Hell. And at this point I was already scrutinizing what the church was saying and making my own opinions based on what I knew. You can feel the effects of...what’s the word...indoctrination! You can feel the effects of indoctrination no matter if you’re still in the church or not.”

Remy was still red with embarrassment, and the only reason he didn’t grow redder was because it simply wasn’t possible. He knew that what he had done with Emile was fine. In certain circles, especially the ones they both ran in, it was even encouraged. And yet...he still felt off. Embarrassed. Dirty.

“Honey?” Emile asked softly, walking over and tilting Remy’s chin up. “What you did wasn’t a bad thing. You’re not sinning, you’re not defiled. You’re certainly not dirty in any other sense than sweaty.” That got Remy laughing. “Listen. We can either take a shower together or separately, get ready for the day, and talk about it however much you want, if that sounds good to you?”

Remy nodded, flushing red. “You can take the shower first. I only have an afternoon shift today.”

Emile nodded and kissed Remy’s cheek, before he left the room. Remy sat down on the bed heavily. Much as he hated it, he still felt a little guilty. He knew that this wasn’t wrong. He knew that. But he still felt wrong.

He scrubbed his face with his hands. “It’s gonna be okay,” he mumbled. “You’re not in trouble. No one will hate you for this. Emile isn’t the type to make a notch on his belt and leave as soon as he sleeps with someone. You’ve wanted this for a while, and you got it. It’s okay.”

This was one of those things that Kim had suggested he do when his anxiety got the better of him, and at first he had scoffed at it. But now, it was helping him rationalize. ��It’s okay...” Remy breathed. In one fluid motion, he stood and moved to the kitchen. Everything was okay, but he needed his coffee if he wanted any hope of no jitters the rest of the day. He got to making breakfast, and when the bathroom door opened and Emile walked out looking almost-immaculate, Remy laughed. “You realize you look like a nerd when you dress in those sweater vests?”

“I’ll wear what I want to wear when I want to wear it, thank you very much, Mister I’ll-Wear-A-Leather-Jacket-In-The-Summer-For-The-Aesthetic.”

Remy blinked. “That’s an eleven word nickname. That’s entirely too long.”

Emile cracked a grin. “I might use it again if you’re not careful and make a jab at my clothing choices.”

“Look, I’m just stating facts,” Remy said, leaving the coffee pot to brew as he went back to their room, grabbed his clothes, and went to shower.

He turned on the water and let himself relax in the spray. He wasn’t tense, exactly, but he had been on edge and it felt nice to just go limp under hot water for a couple minutes. He could let his mind blank and not worry about anything except making sure he didn’t breathe in any water. It was nice to not have to think.

Of course, he couldn’t stay in the shower forever, so he cleaned up and got dressed with a somewhat tired sigh. He walked out of the bathroom to find Emile sipping some of Remy’s coffee. “Hey! That’s mine!” Remy exclaimed with an indignant laugh.

“This is good, Rem. Is this just the pre-ground stuff we buy?” Emile asked.

“Kinda. I add a few extra things when we have them to spice up the blend a little, and make it a little less pure bitter,” Remy said with a shrug. “Why?”

“When I say this is good, I mean it’s really good, Rem,” Emile said. “If this is what you can do with the canned grounds, what can you do with fresh ingredients at a coffee shop?”

“The world may never know,” Remy sighed. “Because the managers don’t want me to experiment with their supplies in case it flops and we waste good coffee.”

Emile tutted. “That’s a shame. You could really make some quality blends, I’m sure of it. Some stuff that they’ve never thought of before.”

Remy flushed. “You think so?” he asked. He wasn’t sure why, but he really wanted Emile’s approval on this.

“I know so,” Emile said with a grin, passing Remy a mug filled with coffee. “Come on, you said it’s yours, taste the fruits of your labor.”

Remy sipped it and hummed. “Yeah, adding more vanilla extract was a good call. I was worried it would be over powering, but that works really well. And I used...” Remy went to the notebook he kept in the kitchen, flipping it open. “I know it was two more teaspoons than last time...okay, yeah, about three tablespoons this time. I could probably stretch that further but this works fine for me.”

He scribbled that down and Emile was watching him. “What?” he asked.

“That’s what you use that notebook for?” Emile asked. “Writing down recipes?”

“Writing down experiments I try in my cooking, yeah,” Remy said. “Because I would easily forget exactly how much I used and lose the recipe, and that would destroy me. I don’t write down the full thing, just the important bits, but...”

“That’s still interesting,” Emile said, looking over Remy’s shoulder. “You’re essentially making your own cookbook.”

“Yeah, a little, I guess,” Remy said.

Emile grinned that scheming grin he had been showing a lot more recently. “What?” Remy asked, crossing his arms.

“It’s nothing,” Emile said, waving his hand in a dismissing motion.

“It’s not,” Remy insisted. “Come on, tell me!”

Emile sighed. “I’m just thinking about what it would be like if you...I don’t know...did your own thing. Went off to culinary school, or even just opened a shop around here, because I don’t know how much culinary school could honestly teach you.”

“You’re not scheming to send me away, are you?” Remy halfway teased.

“No, of course not,” Emile said, kissing Remy’s cheek. “I’d never want to send you away. I just can’t help but wonder what it would be like if you were to actually be a master chef, instead of us just joking around.”

Remy sipped at his coffee and hummed. “I imagine there would be a lot more stress on my end and I might make you cook more dinners at home because I wouldn’t want to come home just to do more of my job.”

“Fair enough,” Emile laughed. “Anything you want to do today before your afternoon shift?”

“Meh,” Remy said. “I think we’ve got ourselves the recipe for a lazy Sunday morning in. And that’s the way I like it.”

“Well, after the night we had, I’m not surprised you’d just want to lay low,” Emile said with a wink.

Remy’s cheeks flared bright red. “Emile Zachary Thomas, I will murder you.”

“Aw, but where’s the fun in that?” Emile asked. “I wouldn’t ever be able to do what we did last night again.”

“But you also wouldn’t joke about it and make me flustered, so I count that as a win,” Remy said with a shrug.

“What, you can dish it out but you can’t take it?” Emile asked. “You love teasing me around my parents, or our friends, or anywhere when someone else can hear. Why is it different when I do it?”

Remy shrugged. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Maybe because when I do it around other people, it's pretty clear that I’m joking. If you do that when it’s just the two of us, it’s not for show, as much. You might be teasing me, but there’s a part of you that always means it, too. That’s...intimidating.”

“Really?” Emile asked. “You’re intimidated by people actually following through with less than safe for work actions?”

Remy shrugged. “Not usually. Most of the people who make those jokes around me, even if they tried to make a move, it wouldn’t be scary. But with you...it’s different.”

“Why? Am I scary?” Emile asked, worried.

Remy shook his head and was quick to reassure, “No, it’s not because you’re scary. It’s because...you matter.”

Emile stood there, effectively stunned. “...Oh,” he said.

Remy was red as a tomato. “...Yeah...”

When Emile could respond again, his smile was a little watery. “I love you too, Rem.”

#if there's a place i could be #sanders sides fanfiction #remile #emile picani #ts sleep

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metellastella · 4 years

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Mao Mao Pride Week Prompts, Part 3

A continuation of the prompts put out by @maomaosmother Part 1 https://metellastella.tumblr.com/post/621726687992872960/hello-everyone-happy-pride-month-to-all-of-you Part 2 https://metellastella.tumblr.com/post/621834183114932224/mao-mao-pride-week-prompts

7. Marriage

“But first,” Mao’s sister clapped her hands together, “I wanna talk weddings some more!”

“Right on!” the badger agreed. He whooped.

“Oh good grief,” Mao rolled his eyes. “Fine. You two can chat with the king about the possibility. And I reiterate. Possibility. When you’re ready to make good on your promise, come find me.”

She clucked her tongue in disapproval. “Fine. Be the usual stick in the mud. Don’t know why I’m surprised.”

He grabbed a few more things off his plate and left.

“So,” she sat back down, “I guess if you favor men, the animals here didn’t have to petition for marriage laws to be amended, huh?”

”Correct.” the lion replied.

“Though some thought I was … ironically … being ‘biased.’ Oh well. Can’t help that. Royal power is absolute, for better or worse. I’ve traveled to other nations and, during debates, have suggested that they not use the term ‘marriage’ as I have. Law is, at least in some peoples’ opinions, supposed to be ‘secular,’ and not ‘religious,’ anyway, so why cling to a specific term that isn’t? Simply afford all the exact same rights to civil unions or domestic partnerships. Or make up a third designation. Much easier to get it passed that way. Bypasses a whole lot of entrenched resistance. People can hash out in their own communities what to do with the non-legal angles and rituals and what to call it. But for a ‘marriage’ certificate? What, after all, is a rhetorical difference, in the end?” the diplomat and statesman snapped his fingers. “And like that, less angst for absolutely everyone involved. It’s not always that easy to reconcile or find middle ground. I can’t think of practically any other issues where simply altering one single word could have that effect. Despite a couple of decades worth of rhetorical experience under my belt.”

He sat back, and interlaced his paws contentedly. “Some countries insisted they were still going to adjust tax breaks because of the very unlikely event of children. Unless surrogates are involved, and properly registered as such, to try to avoid wrangling over child custody. That’s a whole other kettle of fish to get into, obviously.”

She nodded. “Well like Mao said, I’m not here to talk politics. Let’s hear your fantasies about the most important day of your life!”

The badger shook his head. “Well it’s not like that for everyone, but don’t get me wrong, I wanna hear, too!” he said excitedly.

“Erm … “ the lion looked down.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“It’s just … I’m more enthusiastic about the idea than Mao, but I’m still a long way off from that myself. So, I don’t want to insult you by making you think I’m further along, just because I have envisioned a marriage … regardless of who the groom is.”

She frowned a little, thinking. “All right then.”

“But I would love to hear about some of your customs, in that event.”

Her face fell some more. “I’m not sure that would be a good idea.”

“Oh?”

“The homeland, though the majority is plenty accepting of pairing in general, has not approved marriage between men,” she said, “so any customs you applied to each other or one of you … might be seen as disrespectful. For example. Would Mao dress as the woman, since he’s chosen to sub? Not only do I think he would never, ever do that …” she looked at the badger for confirmation.

He shook his head, “Oh most definitely not.” He thought for a second. “Maybe that’s why he got up out of here, for that matter. He thought we were gonna suggest doing that. We’ve been to weddings like that. Again, a little like misgendering, no? Even in the rare cases where he gets a mind for it, he’s not at all like a typical sub.”

The badger paused.

“He doesn’t really fit in when I would hang out with other subs. One panda I met just could not wrap his mind around Mao. It was kinda funny. Irritating for him, though. I would be totally down for dressing like the female counterpart in a wedding, if it were me. I’ve pictured it both ways. Maybe even a costume change in the middle?” he waggled his eyebrows. “Or whatever my partner wanted? If a polar bear gave me any direction I’d melt under his strong paw,” his gaze unfocused, and he hummed appreciatively. “Tuxedo? Coming right up. What color? What style? White wool tunic and stole, as is customary for you big guy? I’ll match you! Usus? My Ursus. My dear ursine. Coemptio? Confarreati? Gown? Dress? You got it, my bae bear. I’m male, sure, but a lot more loosey-goosey in that way. But. It’s not me.”

He sighed romantically.

“If I understand Mao,” the lion said slowly, “in general, he’s less sentimental, at the very least in expression, so maybe it’s simply that he doesn’t get as wrapped up in it as you or I would.”

The badger shrugged.

“Also, women tend to get more excited about wedding planning. Not a hard and fast rule of course, but I think we’ve established that you and I have a lot more in common with women, so it makes sense we’d be more enamored, even if it didn’t necessarily need to be that way.”

The badger slapped his forehead. “Oh yeah, wow. How could I not think of that!” He put his paw down and gestured towards her. “I mean this whole conversation we've had a vibe and Mao has seemed the odd one out, gender wise, but I didn’t consider that.”

The badger went on, “Even without a wedding on the table, which is usually headed up by women in this part of the world, it’s often awkward in the first place for a typical guy to be in a room with all women and vice versa … so this visit has kinda been like that for him, I think. I mean, Mao’s always eager enough to go to a wedding, excited about hitting on and dancing with some ladies, and all, but that doesn’t mean he’d necessarily enjoy planning one. He might even leave it all up to you even if he was totally ready for it!”

The three femme animals spent the next few hours discussing flower arrangements, color palettes, the band of tolerant aristocracy he would invite, and who among the clan would approve enough to come. That was hard for the sister to get through, as she thought of those she loved who would refuse to give their blessing and ‘miss all the fun.’

8. Self-Acceptance

Mao threw up his hands in exasperation. “This was different than anything anybody knew of. Other clans’ elders who had wielders hurt badly were brought in to consult. We wielders can be slammed around by dragons, can be thrown into the ground and make craters, and walk away. With lesser wielders, bruises could be shrugged off and healed. But SOMEHOW, the universe had, like a homing pigeon bent on mouse’s blood, found one little chink in our armor. . . . Delicate tails aren’t resistant enough to damage to withstand direct crush force. Some of the visiting canine elders spoke of a time when groups of semi-sapient non-magical hunting dogs had their flowing, floppy ears or long tails surgically cropped to keep them from injuring themselves on hunts. To potentially avoid something like this happening again … by cave-ins, like mine, by boulders hurled by some types of dragons, even just being stepped on by a dragon big enough … Should all wielder animals, intending to fight these beasts … should every species with long tails start doing this removal with our children, they asked? With consent, of course. Like removing tonsils or primates removing the appendix? Lizards probably couldn’t do it, because their slanted gait was too dependent and their tails too heavy. So maybe just the tips? Surely the thicker parts of their tails withstand something like this? They asked. The elders of felines and canines and rodents and otters … the later they waited to dock tails in a trainee’s life, the more they would have to adjust to the missing counterbalance just as I was. They swarmed me and questioned me about it relentlessly. They were asking among themselves … What age would this terrible offered choice be appropriate?”

His green eyes widened in horror at these questions. As if he needed any more psychological stress after being temporarily crippled, he seemed to have altered the entire course of history with the way clans viewed preparation for wielder heroes.

“Inwardly, I felt like …” he once again tried to force the words out he had started before. “I felt like I was causing an implosion of the whole clan. The tranquil meditation spaces were overrun with visitors. Children still hid from me. Our elders argued over whether they should move me for the duration of my recovery, from the clan’s circle. They argued over what to do about the little ones. But didn’t I deserve to feel safe, too? Of course I was ripping everyone apart! It was what always happened when I was around! When we were all younger, and my sisters occasionally came to my defense from one another or dad, I felt it was somehow my fault they argued, too.”

Even if the elders made these new procedures for children voluntary, he would still be virtually ‘responsible’ for possibly unneeded selective surgical alteration of innocents.

“Blue says that’s common, for bullied children to feel like it’s their fault.”

He looked towards the door, probably thinking of the dog’s unruffled voice of reason.

“I try to listen to him. I try to like myself. B-but I … it seemed l-like my family w-was disintegrating because of m-m-me. And my stupid ‘mistake.’ The whole world of wielders, even! Sometimes it still does, when they visit …! Arguing over father’s treatment of me. Remember when my sister said she wasn’t sure starting arguments over lesser wielders was worth unsettling future heroes? Now imagine what I was thinking when the little ones didn’t feel safe in the circle of the clan because of me. I was drowning in self-blame and the only way I felt I could escape it was to work harder, push myself more, and get away from there.”

Could Blue even help him out of this? The lion pictured him like a seeing eye dog this time, trying for all the world to lead the black cat out of such darkness.

Bonus:

From my second story, Outnumbered. Tanya sashayed around the red-caped cat. “Hello Mittens.” “Tanya I swear if you do not stop calling me that, I’m going to use the wrong pronouns for you,” the cat threatened. “Touchy, touchy,” the tanuki tutted teasingly, but her normally chipper attitude got a dent in it. “As if that’s an even trade, anyway.” The masculine magic cat said gruffly, “Maybe not. But I’m tired of you mocking me without consequences. Just because that’s the only thing that ever gets under your skin is no fault of mine. Perky little miss.” She rolled her eyes. “So, you try to make gendering me correctly even sound derogatory. No wonder I broke up with you.” The cat’s fists tightened, but he spoke cooly. “If you can’t handle all this. I’ll just find someone who can.”

“Like the king you’re serving as a bodyguard to?” the fox-like animal said in a silken tone. “The only kind of lion with no birth mane. Are you a chaser, you dog?” “First off. No. How dare you. Targeting gender non-conforming animals may not be officially dishonorable, but as a concept, it is,” the samurai bristled, “We’re not involved, and we’re never going to be. We’re not attracted to each other, as my nose could clearly tell if he was. Second of all. Since when do you have something against dogs?” “It’s an expression.” “An expression that’s derogatory towards dogs,” the cat sneered. “I can’t imagine the blue therapist dog could be less like that. It’s like ‘sexist pig.’ The yellow pig back in Pure Heart would be crushed if he ever heard someone utter it. Yet outside that nice little paradise, it’s a common saying. King Snugglemagne is having to adjust mightily to the outside world. You may be used to it, steeped in it, but for magic’s sake, stop teasing him about it.” “Oh, a king can’t take a little hardship?” she said lazily. “Of course not, he’s been ensconced in his fancy-pants palace. Now that he has an idea of how it is for everyone else, he crumples at the slightest trouble. Sorry I can’t muster up enough energy to care.” “You should care. Given that he has the same problems you do.” “With pronouns? Puh. Since I’m a roaming outlaw,” the orange animal said flouncily, “I don’t expect either other crooks or enforcers I encounter to respect that my gender doesn’t match my body’s smell. The former doesn’t even respect the law, so why should I take that personally? And the latter are more focused on getting me behind bars. So, no, not my problem. Too much of a bother.” “If you settled down, and got a respectable job,” the cat pointed out, “Established yourself as a constant presence, people would probably collectively accept you.” She laughed derisively. “Oh no, I value my freedom far more than that, Mi-” she swallowed back the nickname. He laughed just as derisively. “I see you do value my word on the matter, though,” he said suggestively. “Are you just not as tough as you make out, or do you still harbor some feelings for me, my sweet little illusionist?”

She opened her mouth, but then shut it again.

“You slippery mirage master,” he said “you do, don’t you?”

He paused. “Hm. ‘Master,’ maybe I should say ‘Mistress’?” he amended. “There’s . . . really no good choice there,” she chuckled hesitantly. “There are ‘Head Mistresses’ at some schools in Snugglemagne’s kingdom,” the cat pointed out.

“Yes but . . . still has connotations. I don’t break the law that way,” she said, normally carefree attitude wobbling. “Even I have standards.”

“Hasn't stopped you from dangling the offer to get what you want,” he said.

She blushed.

“Yeah, word gets around,” he went on blithely as she uncomfortably gripped one of her arms. “Don't know why I should be surprised that playing with hearts isn't beneath you. But more to the point. I know you’re ultimately reasonably principled in that arena, if really flirty. You ever want to get back together, babe, the invitation is open,” he winked.

“And endure your jealous behavior again? I think not. I’ll file that away with other useless knowledge,” she said icily.

“Oh that’s not like you,” he said in a low baritone. “You’re sweet to everyone, even if they can’t catch the mocking tone sometimes.” “Not everyone’s as smart as you, cupcake.” He looked caught off guard by the compliment. “She brushed her fingers under his chin. “I guess you’ll just have to miss me.”

She somersaulted away from him, waving goodbye and blowing a kiss. He said under his breath, “As if I’d ever misgender you. You may play a lot of mind games, love, but you didn’t catch that bluff.”

Comic page: https://metellastella.tumblr.com/post/621837213819437056/mao-maos-specific-trigger-should-not-be First chapter of Piercing the Swordsman https://metellastella.tumblr.com/post/617045879413719040/piercing-the-swordsman-chapter-1

@beesechurguer @king-himbo

#maomaosprideweek2020 #mao mao heroes of pure heart #mao mao snugglemagne #snugglemao #badgerclops #mao mao sisters #fanfiction #LGBT Pride Month #piercingtheswordsman

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yuheelh · 3 years

Text

hi im yuv and i really started rewatching gossip girl for inspo 18 episodes ago (yeah one whole season i finished A Whole Season) and has done jack shit since 🤡 but i’m HERE....ish....with no pages to show for it but whatever - it’s ok! we move on!! anyway! this is NAM YUHEE, 21, junior @ gosan u and most likely known for being the virgin queen. the devout christian prude who’s always tugging her boyfriend around campus yadadada. i will try my best to provide a very in depth tldr under the cut (esp since i have no pages rn 🤡) but first please smash that like for plots! i also have disc if anyone needs it!!!!

TLDR

caught between new money and old, the nams aren’t exactly known prestige among the rich of gosan as they are known for charitable donations to various charities and functions

their climb towards high society dates back to great granddad nam, who first opened the crafts store with his business partner, growing it into a second location, then eventually a chain all over sk (think korean hobby lobby!)

yuhee, as the youngest in a family of four and therefore the baby, is pretty much spoiled throughout her life (in exchange for absolute obedience) - so to say she’s weak spine’d and unable to survive a day without the comfort of money is 100% accurate

mom and dad are very “nice” people, their public image are kind, charitable, devout people with two perfect little daughters who attend saturday evening and sunday morning mass with them without fail

yuhee herself has spent her entire life keeping up with that image. prim, perfection, not one hair out of place. good grades, lots of extracurriculars, you know the works. from ages 0 to 17~, her life is more about impressing her parents than living it the way she wants to

nowadays, she’s a bit of a party-girl (within reason). the kind of girl to go out and get a little wild saturday night fresh out of mass and still make it to sunday mass next day. trying to hide her “party girl” image behind the church girl buff while also knowing fully well that with every passing day, she cares less and less about whether or not her parents find out (or so she says)

TRIVIA

has been seeing the same guy since she was in middle school (childhood friends turned arranged...marriage type deal??), yuhee’s basically already dubbed him her one and only in her head. pretty much ready to spend the rest of her life with him like mom and dad wants, though, what she’s not sure about is where his head is at (and, if she’s completely honest with herself, she’s restless. too restless)

reputation is everything to her (because it does to her parents, so, naturally), so she’s thus far been very careful with who she’s seen with in public—if only to keep up with the image she’s worked so hard to make for herself

volunteers often, especially during the holidays. it’s imperative she makes herself “known” even at school, so it’s very likely that she’s on some kind of committee/student council.

plays off that nice girl act, though she’s kind of prudish and judgmental (also has a temper and is extremely vindictive)

has some sort of inferiority complex toward her sister, but let’s not talk about it!

parties, but never lets it get too far (100% likes to be in control of the situation)

she’s not much of a frugal person, flings money around as she likes, shops a lot (highkey thinks money can solve everything, which cmon, is she really wrong?) - the usual rich girl formula yk

overall — what can i say? she’s nice, but she isn’t. a good daughter, but she isn’t. a good girlfriend, but she isn’t. in general, she’s more so in the middle of finding herself (in life, in how she wants to live it, etc)—and teetering start not caring about who she has to step on to do it.

CONNECTIONS

need... guy she cheated on her bf with... no age req (but if it’s someone close in age/at gosan u with them then it would be kinda *chefs kiss*)

im brain farting so mf hard please give me the college bff!!!!!!!!!!!

BIBLE STUDY CLUB OF FELLOW SUPER RELIGIOUS RICH KIDS WHO ARE ALL LYING ABOUT WHAT THEY REALLY DO ON SAT NIGHT

u made eyes at her boyfriend once and she cut up your valentino

similarly, her boyfriend made eyes(?) with u once and she dropped your bag in the school fountain

party buddy like she’ll only speak to you at parties when shes drunk but otherwise dont @ her type of buddy

im open to anything Please Help Me

#* // ( INTRO )

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peachyteabuck · 4 years

Text

hungry for me, sequel to“survive the summer”

summary: a commission of a second installment of survive the summer, for @myhoneybeeheart

pairing: thor odinson x reader

words: 4,009

trigger warnings: praise kink, dubcon, mentions of arranged marriage, taking of virginity, degradation, oral (f recieving), shame associated with religious upbringing, light edging

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

Somewhere – somewhere you know exists but also doubt is real – somewhere between right in front of you and a million miles away, you hear Thor calling out to you. You have to make a sizable effort to parse his words from the roaring of blood in your ears and haze of pleasure clouding your thoughts. You can hear him, barely, and can sense him - as if you were stuck in the bottom of an iced-over lake, if you were buried six feet under, if you were lost in a cave. Sometimes when you bathe you dunk yourself under the freezing water to quiet out all the noise, making all your siblings’ voices and animals’ screams sound garbled and, blessedly, muted.

Now, despite you being on dry land and nowhere near a body of water large enough to drown yourself in, it sounds the same – the beacon from a lighthouse, the beckoning home, the call to attention. It all sounds the same to you.

“Baby,” Thor coos above you. His voice is thick and savory like warmed molasses and pours into you just as smooth. Somehow you can feel it on you – flowing between your breasts and onto your stomach and pooling in your abdomen. It’s warm and creamy and gooey and makes you feel sunlit and beautiful and you could only stay in this feeling forever…“Come back, baby, come back to me. Come back so I can see that pretty face of yours.”

You don’t, can’t, say anything because now his giant cock is filling you and all you want to do is cry from the mind-numbing satisfaction and your whole body is on fire and also over ice and is it humid? You wonder if it’s humid because your whole body is covered in sweat and you feel like you’re suffocating and you’re gasping for air because the air is too tense to breathe. It’s when he slaps you lightly, grabs your chin and makes you look at him that you finally are able to think somewhat-rationally, logically, concisely…well, rationally, logically, and concisely enough to piece together whatever the man is saying along with the appropriate response.

“You good, love?” he asks. Somehow, you find enough energy and muscle control to nod. It’s faint and feeble as a last breath, but Thor sees, comprehends it nonetheless. He kisses at your temple before speaking again, nosing at your hairline afterward. The gesture is comforting, reassuring; especially given what he says next. “Good, ‘cause I’m just getting started.”

It’s enough to make you gasp out, grab at him as if that would tether you to some vague definition of reality. You whine as he pulls back from you, growling at you to stay put, to remain in your highly vulnerable position. Maybe out of fear, maybe out of anticipation, maybe out of a mixture of both – you accede.

Thor falls to his knees on the hardwood floor, hitting the worn circles laid there by years of begging for forgiveness with a heavy thud. It distracts you, knocks you off guard enough that the man can grab you by the ankles and drag you closer to him without so much as a protest. Before you could register what was happening, Thor’s gotten you folded in half – legs bent and pressed to your chest with one forearm pressed into the notches of your knees to keep you there.

You’re confused, eyebrows furrowed as you attempt to find your bearings on a situation so foreign to you Thor might as well be speaking a different language. “What are y-“

You’re soon interrupted by your whole body melting as his flat tongue presses to the crest of your center. You relax easily, body becoming lax quick as a snap. “Oh! Oh, Oh my God, I’m-“

The art of language, of coherent language, seems to wash away as you collapse fully onto the bed. If you had control over your muscles, if your brain would regain its rightful possession over your skin and bones maybe you’d pull at Thor’s hair, scratch his back, grip the sheets. Nothing of the sort is under your current ability, and you find yourself covering your face with flat, pliant hands. What you’re covering yourself from is not important – maybe you’re terrified your eyes will open and you’ll have to face the hand-painted portrait of your Father. Maybe worse, you’d have to face the man between your legs, the almighty whose stubble scratches at the stretch marks between your legs and whose mouth drinks at the most vulnerable part of you.

One of his thick fingers presses into you with ease, obscene slick sounds filling your bedroom.

“Oh God,” you moan just above a whisper. You’re sure you look possessed now – eyes rolled to the back of your head and mouth banging open and body moving on its own accord. “God, don’t stop!”

You can feel Thor smile into the skin of your sopping cunt, his tongue tracing your lips before slipping another finger into and pressing just so – each twitch of his fingers making nearly making you black out from how overwhelming good it feels.

It’s not long before your skin is hot and tight and you’re about to burst, and you can feel your entire body wrapping around a tight coil laid atop a hot frying pan and you just…you just need…you just-

You nearly kill Thor when he pulls away, his fingers receding away from that perfect spot inside of you. It hurts, it physically hurts and if you weren’t pissed as an ox you’d beg for him to continue.

With hair wild and cheeks red you sit up and grab Thor’s face with both your hands, your palms becoming wet with your slick.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!?” you hiss. You feel like a sopping wet cat who’s been dunked into a river by a hellbent child. With his shit-eating grin, the resemblance is uncanny. God, you want to hit him to hard the SMACK! is heard by the next town over.

“Just gettin’ you ready, love,” he says – syrupy drawl both beautiful and antagonizing. Whatever way he means it, you press your thighs together to trap his hand there. Thor makes no move to remove it, just smiling and glowing and looking at you like you hung the stars.

“Ready for what,” you say through grit teeth. You search his eyes (and the rest of his face, for that matter) for answers, for explanation. All you see is fire in his eyes and his bottom lip stuck between his teeth and him looking you up and down like a man planning on where to shoot a deer stuck in a bear trap and before you know it, Thor is on top of you and his cock is stuffing you full and you’re digging your nails into his back.

When your sisters and cousins would whisper and giggle about seasonal farmhands who bathed naked far up the river, who blushed when you complimented them and leaned against the rickety fences when they spoke, you thought that would be the kind of guy you’d lose such an important part of you to. You thought you’d wake up one day to find yourself promised to some boy who was skinny and sun-burnt and did as she told him and worked in the field.

This feels the exact opposite of the man above you, the man inside you. Large and sun-kissed and charismatic – he reminds you of a wild stallion, muscly and free and vicious and unstoppable and untamed and a challenge. You admire him the same way, are enchanted by him and his undomesticated, ruthless ways which are foreign and fierce to you and you’re simply breathless.

Thor stretches your legs up to your chest and soon you’re wailing, trying to grab at the worn quilt you’ve had since you were a child for a lifeline, a reminder you have control over some of your body, something.

“Oh,” you cry. You find yourself at a loss for words, the art of speech lost in favor of grunting and moaning and barely-intelligible “yes”s and “please”s and “don’t stop”s. Your legs are wrapped tightly around Thor’s waist, keeping him close; even if your legs were spread, though, it’s not as if Thor would want to pull away. It’s not as if the only thing tying him to you is the increasingly-weak hold on him, as if the only anchor is your nails leaving red, angry crescent-shaped indentations all over his back, shoulders, ass, sides. Just as your hands map each inch of his skin, his mouth does the same for yours – he pants, hot and open-mouthed, into equally-feverish uncharted territory. He tastes you, tastes the sweet-salty sweat that run over scars reminiscent of years of farm work.

Each time his teeth, tongue, lips so much as brush the gnarled skin the memories come flooding back, reminders of a life now considered “past.” The scenes from a life you no long recognize coat the pleasure, the present; they play behind your eyes as you feel yourself falling thousands of feet below.

His chin nudges the long one above your breasts you’ve had since you were a child and you were proving to your father you could be an archer – turns out the arrow was much sharper than you could have imagined.

He brushes your hair to the side and exposes a small, curled thing behind your ear – earned from a fight with a hawk that had broken its wing. Your father shot it, cooked it, and you knew that was the poor animal’s fate. Nonetheless, you stepped too close and scared the thing to pieces.

He bites at the one on your shoulder – the one you got when you were nicked by a sharpened stick on a trail ride. You were young and dumb as the stick was long and pointed. Ma says the only thing that kept you alive for the duration of the ride back was pure spite and adrenaline, a similar concoction to what flows through your veins now.

If you were a different woman, a woman with a strong will and even stronger arms, you’d push him away and repent for a chance at the old life you had planned for yourself. You’d throw him out of your house and fall to your knees and pray until your family found you there – lips and pads of your knees bleeding. You’d force him back onto the horse he rode in on and fall into hysterics until he left you by your lonesome to deal with this (whatever this may be) by yourself. You’d push him off and remind him you’re not what he wants – that you’re more than a cheap lay. (Of course, you’d let him in eventually – if he pushed and prodded at you hard enough. You’d let him mount you like he is now…just maybe after a ring and a dress and him knowing that you’re going to be with him until the end of time.)

Unfortunately, you are not that woman. You are weak, lost to the pleasure of him slamming in and out of you so hard you’re sure he’s leaving bruises on your inner thighs, ones that will last for days; lost to the feeling of his rough, wet thumb pressing at the crest of your center and making you wail. You’re absolutely drowning in it, and you have no intention of fighting to find land.

“Jesus fuck,” he hisses as you clench around him (an act you will play coy about when he asks you later, but do not comment on now). “This pussy is mine until the end of days, you get that? Do you understand me? I’m never giving you up.”

You groan out, unable to form something silly as speech. Like before, he grabs your face with the unoccupied big, calloused hand and forces your hooded eyes to meet his dilated pupils. Unlike before, tears stain your face. You’ve wept this hard before – when your favorite heifer died, when you realized your sister were so much prettier than you, when you got pecked in the side by a temperamental, murderous chicken. You’ve never, though, ever screeched and caterwauled and literally wept from pleasure.

(Your lips feel dryer by the second. You have a sneaking suspicious as to why.)

“Tell me whose pussy this is,” Thor snarls. His words are punctuated with thrusts, each one deeper and harder than the last. Surely you won’t walk away from this unharmed. No human was built to withstand such forces, to withstand this man. You feel like a poorly-built prairie house during tornado season - threatening to be reduced to bits any second. “Tell me who owns this beautiful pussy of yours.”

“Ah!” you scream so loud you’re sure the angels can hear you. “Oh, God Thor, this pussy is yours.”

You can feel his wicked, satisfied smile against your shoulder, his teeth scraping at the skin there. “Say it again,” he tells you, so quiet you barely hear. Like some test or a prayer or a demand. “I want to hear it again.”

(In truth, he wants to hear you say it forever – but once more, for now, will do.)

The spool of thick thread weaves itself tighter and tights inside of you, and when you go to grab at the bedsheets once more you can hear the familiar sound of cotton sheets, ripping. “My pussy is yours, Thor!”

It’s then that the reel collapses in on itself – like the universe in the beginning. Is there a set of planets springing to life inside of you? Is the white-hot you see as you gasp for air a second set of heavens being born? You understand the Book so much better now, now understand why He had to rest; you feel as if you could sleep for a million years when you finally spiral down to Earth.

Thor, obviously, does not feel the same way. He does not pull from you, does not leave you lying motionless, heaving, desperate for cool air in your lungs and on your skin. Rather, he laughs – deep and pitted in his chest.

The bastard.

“You’re gorgeous,” he says between kisses laid upon your jaw. They’re hot, heavy, hard – sometimes you can feel his teeth scrape there. You wonder if he means to mark you so – determined to make an example of you and have you choose the dangerous fate of either parading around or shutting yourself in; or does he does this with no thought at all, barges into isolated women’s homes and shows them the greatest gratification known to man or God. “Has anyone ever told you that?”

You bear your teeth when he pulls back and meets your eyes again. It takes all your minimal willpower not to moan again, given that he hasn’t stopped fucking in and out of you. “Has anyone ever told you they wanted to punch you in the fucking face?”

He laughs again, same as before. “You’ve got a dirty mouth for such a clean woman,” he smirks as he pulls from you and flips you over with ease (your heart flutters – literally flutters, when your chest hits the sheets), knees bracketing you in. “Or, can I call you that no longer?”

Before you can snap back with a retort, he’s got you pulled to your knees by your hair – the follicles bunched in his large fist. You gasp loudly – the searing, sharp pain traveling up the backs of your legs, your spine, your scalp. It hurts, but it also feels so good.

Thor ignores you.

You remain there, tucked into Thor as he ravages you. One arm keeps you upright and tight against his muscular chest, slung across your stomach and tucked into your side so he can feel each bated breath – the other makes quick, small circles over the most sensitive part of you.

“Scream for me,” he whispers into your ear. “Let the whole world hear how good I make you feel.”

You follow his bellowed command, choked whimpers now shouts and cries and shrieks. In any other moment in any other time you’d be embarrassed, like before when you’d cover your mouth to stifle the sounds so no one could hear. Now, though, with no shawl or nighttime or cloak or hand to conceal you from the man you can’t look in the eyes.

The hand around your stomach moves to the wall in front of you for balance, and you can feel his hot breath as his jaw hangs open.

You’re too far gone, now, to notice him grabbing at your hair again and pressing your cheek into the sheets. You scream each him his hips meet yours, his moans nearly as loud as yours.

“You feel so good,” he groans. “God, you’re so wet. Oh shit!”

He pulls out, blessedly, finishing himself with his hand while the other presses into your lower back. It keeps you there, floating in and out of consciousness but staying near-lifeless on the bed. The shirt he was wearing before – you recognize it from the column of buttons – cleans you off, the thick cotton soothing against your skin.

It’s not long before Thor joins you on the bed, collapsing from exhaustion just as you have. It’s hours before you wake up again, the pitch blackness outside meaning there’s nothing to distract yourself from the reality of the state of your life.

If your world hadn’t been shattered before, you are currently watching it go down in flames. You’ve never seen a barn being burned to the ground, but if you were stuck inside, it’d probably feel like this – you’d probably also be clutching the quilt that’s been haphazardly thrown over you but not Thor, grasping at the sun-bleached fabric as it will save you from destruction.

“Fuck,” you whisper to the ceiling and no one in particular. You still avoid looking at that damned portrait, keeping its aged frame in your periphery. You treat the man currently invading your precious personal space the same way.

Thor laughs next to you, deep in his chest. If you didn’t want to hit him then… “Should I be offended?”

You sigh, still avoiding his gaze. You can feel it burning into you like the sun on a bare back in the middle of July – you fear, if he looks at you too long, that you’ll be burned with his mark for the rest of time. You pull the quilt closer to you, hugging it to your body. “Not everything is about you.”

“I’d agree. Maybe not everything, but this,” Thor taps a few times between your eyebrows where your forehead has wrinkled. “Definitely is.”

He’s confident, so frustratingly confident and radiant and if your life wasn’t falling apart you would fuck him again – without hesitation. If you weren’t reconstructing a path you had mapped the day you understood what “future” meant for you, you’d force him down on the bed and do what you thought your wedding night would look like. It’s overwhelming, to say the least, to realize that you have been dethroned of the future you’d thought, you’d assumed you’d have.

You’re not a geographer, a cartographer, a topographer; you’re just a woman. A very horny woman, who is currently undergoing a crisis.

Thor moves closer to you, wrapped one of his massive arms around your bare waist and shifts so that his massive body weighs you onto the bed and rests his chin on your shoulder. “Love, what are you so worried about? Someone like you shouldn’t have worries like that running through the pretty little head of yours.”

You scoff and roll your eyes. Where do you even begin with him? “What am I worried about? I don’t know, probably the fact that I have to marry you now,” you sigh, eyes screwed shut in hopes you’ll open to find yourself in another bed, in another home, in another life. “That’s pretty fucking terrifying.”

Thor laughs breathily – unfazed. “One, you’re very rude. Has anyone ever told you that? It’s no wonder your father treats you in such a way. It’s a mystery no one else treats you that way. Maybe I should treat you a lesson, huh? Should I treat you to be nicer to the people who treat you nice as I?” he trails off for a minute or two, eyeing you up and down. When you make no move towards him, he continues. “Two, why do you have to marry me?”

You ignore his insolence, attempting to stick to the matter at hand. You fear if you veer off topic for even a moment, he’ll use that opening to pin back onto the bed and then this will be delayed even worse than it currently is and then this conversation will have to happen with even more of a threat of your family coming home before you can handle this yourself and…What were you talking about again? Right. Roping this man into marriage. No big deal. “You just took my purity, of course I have to marry you.”

It’s Thor’s turn to scoff. “That’s not how the world works, baby.”

“It’s how my world works, baby,” You bite back. If you were a snake, you’re sure the last word would’ve been coupled with the spraying of poison all over your companion’s skin. Knowing Thor, though, he’d walk away healthier than ever despite two precise puncture wounds.

There’s a long pause before he speaks again, the smile that plays on his lips coloring his words as well. “Oh, really? Why can’t I just walk out of here and pretend none of this ever happened? Why can’t I move onto the next woman, and the next woman, and the next woman. You think I can’t just find a thousand other yous to fill my bed, huh? Why do you think you’re so special?”

You’re sitting up now, covering yourself as Thor lays there bare. He reminds you of a barn cat in the sun, eyes closed and muscles relaxed and tail flicking lazily; if you touched him, you bet his skin would be warmed – if you scratched behind his ears or under his chin, you bet he’d purr. Unlike your barn cat, though, you refuse to leave him be as he enjoys his leisure. “Why do you think I’d just let you leave? Why do you think you can find another woman, let alone a thousand women even close to me? Sure, leave if you want to, but don’t think you won’t be crawling back to me the second you try and find me in someone who ain’t me. Nuh-uh, you’ll find yourself here, in the dirt, at my feet.”

There’s a long, thick silence that settles over the both of you as Thor sits up, too. His face is playful, but still look in your eyes for any ounce of insincerity. He finds none. “You’re a little spitfire, you know that? Feral little thing, you are.”

You leave the bed, wrapping yourself in a robe you find rumbled under the bed. You don’t know if it’s to protect yourself from the immodesty of walking around naked as the day you were born, or if you’re hoping covering up to prove to Thor you’re not just some hussy. As if whatever in Hell just went down doesn’t disprove whatever notions of modesty you’re hoping to project. Either way, it busies your hands and keeps your eyes from him. “Of course.” You don’t speak again until you’re at the doorway, back facing him with head turned to the side just so. Who’s the cat now? “Do you?”

You walk away after that, leaving to find food or water or maybe a gun. Thor neither knows nor cares. Either way, he allows his body to fall back onto the bed with a thud and listens to your footsteps padding on the floor. Once you’re out of earshot, he sighs deep and happy. “I sure do, babygirl. I sure do.”

#lukis does commissions #lukis writes stuff #thor x reader #thor odinson x reader #thor smut #thor odinson smut #thor odinson imagine #this shit is SO dirty i love it

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