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finelinevogue · 9 months

Text

the best thing

summary - you hate harry after that one night together, but when you need someone the most he will always be there

a/n : mentions of sexual assault, quite intense scenes, crying, angst, drunkeness

word count : +3.8k

pairing : ceo!harry x reader

You don’t know how you got here.

One minute you were eating crisps at home and watching reruns of Friends, then the next thing you know you’re at an exclusive event in the centre of London with your best friend; Leia.

Apparently, your best friend is now dating some actor who is in with all the A-list celebrities and so she can get into all these cool events now.

This party was hosted by none other than Harry Styles, billionaire and CEO of StylesTech. He happened to be the one man on Earth who you absolutely despised. Well, maybe he wasn’t the only one.

Harry became a celebrity when he got put on the front cover of GQ’s magazine for sexiest man alive four times. That’s right… four.

Harry was friends with James, your best friends new boyfriend, and had said she could also invite a plus one. The more the merrier was what Leia had said over the phone.

Now you were here.

Some rooftop bar in the heights of London. The lighting was very low, the music was very loud and the room was completely packed.

There was a dance floor where people were grinding more than dancing. There was a bar, which apparently was a free-bar. There was panoramic views of the city and tiny people below, making you feel like a Goddess up here in the clouds.

“We’re going to get drinks, you coming?” Leia asked you, James tugging on her hand to move them through the crowd.

“Yeah.” You nodded and grabbed onto her open hand.

You weaved through the crowds, apologising for people you bumped into.

You felt slightly too single here. Everyone seemed to be clinging onto someone and yet you were clinging on to a couple - third-wheeling to be precise.

When you reached the bar Leia and James ordered together, leaving you wait for another waiter to come to help you.

You waited a few more moments, before someone whistled behind you like they were calling over a dog.

“Oi, Henry. Serve this lady now.”

You turned around with a disgusted look on your face, only to be met with Harry Styles in front of you. He smirked at you when he noticed your facial expression.

You scoffed and turned back to Henry. “Don’t worry yourself about me. You can finish whatever job you were doing, hun.” You smiled at the young boy, who looked terrified of his boss behind you.

“No, he won’t.” Harry came and stood beside you. “She’ll have a vodka cranberry with ice.”

“She has a fucking name. Prick.” You mumbled the last word under your breath. “Sorry, Henry. I’ll actually have a Long Island Ice Tea, please. Thank you.”

Henry was off, probably to get away from Harry and make your drink.

“Sure your tolerance can handle a Long Island?” Harry laughed beside you.

“Don’t act like you know me, Harry.” You sneered his name.

“Oh, but I do know you. Don’t I? Know you very, very, well.”

You huffed, trying to not let his words effect you.

You knew exactly what he was talking about. Specifically, the night he was talking about. It had been one night back when you were working in a rival tech company. You had been issued to attend a conference weekend, there had been limited numbers of rooms and Harry - the gentleman at the time - had offered you a space in his room.

That night you had too many vodka cranberries and ended up sleeping with Harry that night - although not much literal sleeping actually happened.

The point of hatred for Harry occurred when he left in the morning after you’d confessed that you could see yourself liking him. You’d offered yourself to him for a date together and all he said was; ‘I don’t do seconds.’

Hence, the birth of the hatred for GQs sexiest man alive x4.

“That was one night, years ago. Wasn’t anything to remember.” You sneered.

You lied. It was actually one of the best nights of your life and no one has been as good since.

“Except it was. You didn’t scream that much because you were hating it.” Harry sipped on his glass of whiskey.

“You’re a fucking pig.” You grabbed your drink that Henry had given to you now. “Stay away from me, Harry.”

“Then why did you come to my party?”

“I’m here because of Leia, not you.”

You scoffed and walked off, leaving Harry leaning against the bar in his gorgeous suit to stare at you as you walked away.

The little black dress and heels would do wonders for the power walk away from him. He could see what he has been missing.

You saw Leia and James standing at a table and went over to join them.

“Hey.” You said on approach.

“Hey babes.” Leia smiled as James wrapped his arm around Leia’s waist.

“Cosmo?” You asked, pointing to Leia’s drink.

“You know it. And what the fuck did you get?”

“Long Island.”

“Do you even like them?” Leia laughed.

“No.”

“Then why—”

To prove a point. “Dunno.” You shrugged, taking a sip and feeling sick already from how disgusting the drink was.

“Oh hey man.” James unwrapped his arm around Leia to shake hands with someone. Unfortunately for you, it happened to be the one man you were trying to stay away from.

“Hey. How are you?” Harry asked as they bro hugged.

“Good, good yeah. This is my girlfriend, Leia.” James introduced her.

Leia smiled politely, shaking his hand, and you suddenly wished you’d told her that the story behind the ‘One-Night-Stand’ guy had been this guy. “Hello. Great party.”

“Thanks.”

“And this is Y/N, Leia’s best friend.” James introduced you, not realising that you didn’t need an introduction.

Harry stuck his hand out for you. If you didn’t shake it someone would know something is wrong, so you could your hand in Harry’s and tried to ignore the soft skin against yours. Instead, you tightly squeezed as if you were trying to strangle his hand.

“Lovely to meet you, Y/N.”

You just tightly smiled, not feeling like returning the sentiment.

“Have we met before? You look very… familiar.” Harry had the cheek to say to you. He was an evil man.

“No. You don’t really have a face that I’d remember.” You pulled your hand away from him in disgust.

“Oh really? I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or not.”

“It’s not.” You smiled, returning to your drink and trying not to gag with how awful it tasted.

“Uh, so, what are you drinking Harry?” Leia asked, clearly sensing some tension between you.

“Vodka cranberry.”

“Ah no way! That’s our Y/Ns favourite drink.” Leia smiled genuinely.

“How coincidental.” Harry faked a shocked face.

“Yeah. Truly.” You rolled your eyes.

“You two must be soulmates or something.”

“That would require two people going on an actual date.” You stabbed into the conversation.

“I guess..” Leia looked awkward now.

“Your capable of going on a date, aren’t you Harry?” You innocently questioned, turning to face him.

Harry’s nostrils flared and it looked like he was biting back from saying something brass. Instead of speaking, he shot back a good half of his drink.

“Lovely speaking to you, Leia. James, we’ll catch up in a bit.” Harry nodded his head to them both. You didn’t miss how he didn’t acknowledge you as he left the table in a hurry.

You breathed a sigh of relief after he’d gone.

“What the fuck was that about?” Leia asked you immediately.

“What?” You asked dumbly.

“You and Harry. The sexual tension was insane!”

James nodded his head in agreement.

“Don’t be silly.”

“Y/N… C’mon. I’ve seen a penis and a vagina have less sexual tension than you and Harry. Get a fucking room next time.” Leia fanned herself.

“I give up.” You shook your head and downed the rest of your disgusting drink.

“Where are you going?” James asked.

“To find a fourth wheel for me.”

•••••

Twelves minutes later and you’d managed to find someone to spend the rest of your night with.

His name was Jordan and he was very good company. Attractive company too.

You two were cornered away in the back of the room in a circular booth. A tray of shots lay empty in front of you and another tray contained full ones.

You were playing a drinking game to get to know each other and now you were absolutely spinning. Your head had taken a hit after the fifth shot and now you were nine deep and couldn’t stop yourself.

“M-my turn.” You laughed as you hiccuped.

“Okay.”

Jordan sat close to you, his arm wrapped around the back of the booth where you were sat. His eyes were deep brown and his hair was light blonde. He looked the complete opposite of Harry, which maybe was subconsciously a choice.

“Favourite sex position?” You giggled immaturely.

“Hmm. Doggy. I actually hate seeing a girls face when we’re fucking.” He replied and you had to take a shot because he answered honestly.

That should’ve been your first red flag about Jordan.

You just laughed instead.

“My turn. Have you ever masturbated?”

“Alllll the time. No guy does it for me anymore.” You laughed sadly.

Jordan took his shot and then moved in closer towards you. You tilted your head so he could speak into your ear.

“I could fix that problem for you.”

Your eyes bugged at his forwardness.

“No thanks.” You shook your head and laughed to try and keep it civil.

“Oh c’mon. You’ve been flirting with me all night and you know it.” His hand dropped onto your shoulders and pulled himself closer. His other hand dropped onto your bare thigh and started rubbing up and down on your soft skin.

“No I haven’t!” You laughed the situation off.

“You have. And I bet you’re all excited ‘cause of it.”

He started moving his hand further up your leg. Due to your toxic alcohol intake your reaction times were a little slower, but when his hand had made it underneath your dress-skirt you gasped and tried to tug his hand away.

“No. Please stop.” You said softly, whining as he tried to push his hand higher.

His face came closer again and he started to kiss your cheek. You tried to move your face away but his other hand was there to trap you and keep you close.

You started to worry because of how dark it was and how hidden away you were. Everyone was busy dancing and drinking away and none the wiser about the situation you were in.

“Give in, you tease.” His hot breath felt disgusting against your skin.

“I said no. Please.”

You struggled to push him off. Both your hands were focusing on his hand on your leg that you couldn’t do much to get his face away from yours.

“You’ve been teasing me all night and now we get to play.” He laughed.

Tears formed in your eyes as you kept pushing and pushing and pushing. You kept saying no over and over again, but Jordan was just not listening.

He felt disgusting on you and it made you feel just as disgusting.

Jordan just kept laughing whilst you were crying.

An employee caught your eye - in fact, it was Henry. You thought he might’ve come over to you and help, since he could clearly see you crying and struggling with Jordan on you, but instead he turned and walked away.

You sobbed then, thinking that might’ve been your only chance to get help and he just left.

You wondered whether it was because Harry was a dick to him.

You closed your eyes and tried to think of happy thoughts as Jordan started attacking your neck.

You tried to think of Harry. It wasn’t hard.

He was constantly on your mind.

“You taste so good. Stop denying me all of you.” Jordan bit your neck too harshly to be pleasurable.

“Jordan, no!” You shoved with all your strength and managed to completely get him off. You were pissed now. Your mascara may have run, your eyes red and blotchy, your breath shaky, but that was all he was getting from you.

“No?” Jordan scoffed. “NO?”

Jordan grabbed your cheeks and pulled you towards him.

“Ow.” You mumbled through his harsh grip.

“Listen here you little bi—”

“The fuck is going on here?”

Jordan dropped your face and straightened his jacket, whilst you turned your head to find who you already knew was there; Harry.

His voice had sent a wave of calmness through your body the second he started speaking. Now he was standing there with a deathly look on his face you couldn’t help but feel relief.

And you noticed Henry standing behind him, looking just as angry.

“Hi boss. Just having fun.” Jordan responded.

Harry looked between Jordan and you. Jordan looked dazed and content, whilst you looked broken and scared.

“Are you okay?” Harry looked intensely at you.

“She’s fi—”

“I wasn’t fucking speaking to you, was I?” Harry rhetorically asked. “Y/N, come here, love.”

Harry held out his hand, palm facing up.

You made no hesitation as you weakly moved away from Jordan and towards Harry.

Harry helped you stand up and kept a tight hold on your hand. It grounded you, his touch.

“Can I touch you? Just on your face?” Harry asked you softly and you nodded.

Harry cautiously held your chin and moved your head to the side, noticing the red mark and blood on your neck. He hadn’t taken note of your legs yet, but he would come to find red marks on them too.

Your teary eyes were wiped by Harry’s careful thumb. You looked down at his shoes the entire time, too afraid to look at him. You knew you’d crumble if you did.

“Are you okay?” He asked you again.

“No.” You said softly, shaking your head. “I-I was really scared, Harry.” Your voice broke and Harry immediately cupped the back of your head and brought you into his chest. You collapsed there and Harry’s hands held you up strong.

“You’re okay now. I’m here, you’re okay. I’ve got you.” Harry said, whilst nodding his head discreetly to the two security men.

They came over within seconds and yanked Jordan out of the booth. His protests were no match for the security guys. As he was being escorted out, Harry stopped him to say “See you in court.”

After Harry had thanked Henry with a nod and smile, he walked the small distance over to the same booth and sat down on the edge of it, pulling you to sit on his lap.

Your body was still wracking with sobs, but only because the adrenaline of the situation had been too much for you.

Now you knew you were safe, it was too much.

Harry made you feel safe.

He rocked you as he held you. It was too loud to have a quiet, serious, conversation, but his actions spoke loud anyways. I’m here. You’re safe. It’s okay now.

You heard Harry shout to someone for a glass of cold water, which was brought back to you within a minute.

"Here, sunshine, drink this." Harry spoke closely to you so you could hear.

He held the glass up to your lips and tipped it back slowly for you. Your hands were too shaky to hold onto it yourself, but you managed to drink carefully with the help of Harry.

He even knew when you'd had enough.

Harry's hand cupped the side of your head and brought you to rest back onto his chest. His head stayed rested on top of yours and you both just sat like that for ten minutes or so. It was hard to know exactly how long.

You just sat and thought about everything that had happened tonight and everything that could have happened. Mixed with that, your brain was constantly thinking about Harry and how much, no matter how hard you try otherwise, you like him.

Your heart feels constantly pulled towards him. He's like a beacon in the middle of a storm, safely guiding you towards home.

Just as those thoughts were circling your mind, Harry made his move.

He told you he was going to stand up, so you let yourself slide off his legs onto your own shaky ones. You thought he might be leaving you to go back and mingle with the other guests, so you stood shy to the side.

Harry leaned over to Henry and whispered something in his ear to which Henry nodded.

Before you could make plans as to what you were going to do now, Harry held out his hand to you again - giving you a choice to take it or not. Of course, you took it.

He squeezed your hand in reassurance and then lead you off and out of the room.

You two made no conversation as you wandered out of the noisy room and into a quiet staircase. Harry started walking up the stairs, so you followed him.

It was another two minutes before you made it to the top of the stairs and through a door that led to a rooftop. It was only very small. It overlooked the city skyline, with hundreds of twinkling lights casting shadows over the small space.

There were twinkling fairy lights too, up here. They were knotted around various creeping wall plants like ivy. In the corner of the square space there was a big L-shaped sofa with plenty of cushions and throws.

Harry turned back to smile at you, leading you to the sofa.

He sat down and let go of your hand, allowing you to choose where to sit.

You took one last glance at the skyline and up to the moon, before deciding.

"Wanna sit next to you." You said in a small voice.

"Okay." Harry smiled perfectly.

He shuffled back into the corner of the L-shaped sofa, sitting up and letting his legs stretch out on the chair in front of him. He patted his lap next with a smile. You shuffled over to him and sat on his lap, perpendicular to the way he was sitting so your legs stretched out along the other length of the chair.

"Comfortable?" He asked.

"Mhm."

Harry wasn't too sure though, and next thing you knew he was gathering a couple of blankets to throw over your legs and shoulders.

"Better. Thank you." You nodded.

"You're welcome."

"It's beautiful up here."

"I guess it is."

"Is it all yours?" You questioned.

"What? Everything up here?"

You nodded. Harry then took your hands in his and started to play with the few rings you had on.

"No. Not everything is mine."

You looked up at him and into his eyes, noticing he was looking straight back at you.

Your breath caught in your throat as you thought about the implications to his words. You couldn't help but let a blush and smile take over your face. If he was implying what you thought he was then maybe you were in with a chance of Harry liking you back.

"What do you want to have? You're a billionaire. You could have anything you want." You asked, curiously.

"No even a billionaire can buy everything." He smiled sadly.

"Well, what do you wish you could buy even though you can't?"

Harry chuckled under his breath, "Redemption. A second chance. Love."

You tilted your head back against the sofa, your head feeling less and less drunk by the minute. You sighed, looking at the beautiful moon and wondering how lonely she must be up there.

Loneliness is something you've suffered with for far too long.

You wanted to find that connection with that someone who makes you feel wanted, feel loved and feel chosen. You craved it.

You chuckled.

"What?" Harry asked, softly caressing over the back of your hand.

"It's just funny, is all."

"What is?"

"Us, wanting the same thing. Wonder if we want it from the same people." You tilted your head to the side to face Harry, watching him lick his lips as he looked at yours not-so-subtly.

"You already know we do." Harry said quietly, leaning in towards you.

Your breath hitched as he got closer, your heart beating faster than your brain was processing the motions. You knew you wanted to kiss Harry as badly as he wanted to kiss you, but not like this. Not yet, at least.

"Harry, wait..." You said, watching him stop immediately.

"Fuck. Shitting, fuck. Sorry, Y/N. That was completely inappropriate of me. I mean.. After... Tonight and us... and...."

Harry shot back to his original position and ran a stressed hand over his face as he tried to work through his thoughts.

You smiled as you watched him panic, before taking his stressed hands in yours and kissing the back of it softly - right over that small triage of freckles you knew sat pretty there.

"Hey. It's okay." You reassured him. "I'm not stopping you because of what happened this evening. I'm stopping you because I feel I deserve to know why I wasn't enough the first time around."

This was you standing up for yourself.

"Weren't enou-.. Y/N, love. God, I was such a dick. I never, ever, left you because I thought you weren't enough. I left because I didn't think I was. I was a nobody back then. I looked at you and saw someone who could literally be the epitome of sunshine, and then I looked at me and all I saw was a dark cloud that would cover you. I never thought someone as bright, as happy and as golden as you should ever have to be with someone like me. Hell, it's still a thought that niggles away at the back of my mind. But, I've learnt that I can't let those thoughts win. I owe it you myself, and definitely to you, to at least try."

"Well that was as good as apologies get." You sniffled, trying to hold back the happy tears.

"I'm sorry, Y/N, for our wasted years. I... I just wasn't ready for us back then and I know I was a prick about it."

"You were. A right big prick."

Harry wiggled his eyebrows and you had to fake punch him for it.

"I'm sorry." He said honestly. "And I'm sorry for tonight too."

"That wasn't your fault, okay? I promise." You squeezed his hand.

"Okay. I'm still suing that motherfucker though."

"You're a billionaire already!"

"So? I was going to donate the money to a sexual assault charity or something." He shrugged his shoulders like what he just said was no big deal - like he hadn't just shown his truest heart.

"You're a good person, Harry, who deserves good things." You moved closer to him.

"I am?"

"Mhm."

"Do these 'good things' include you?"

"I don't know. Do you think I'm a good thing?" You teased him.

Harry leaned in closer. "No. I think you're the best."

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luveline · 3 months

Note

Would u ever write about early days kbd! Steve and reader?? Maybe newly married or finding out about being pregnant for one of their babies?? I just love them so much ♡

kisses before dinner au —mom!reader, 1k

“I’m just gonna go to the bathroom really quickly and then I’m leaving,” you call.

Steve calls back. “Okay, babe. Avery, say bye to mommy! Can you say bye? How about you, Beth?”

Avery calls a happy goodbye. Beth babbles unintelligibly. I’ll say goodbye in a second, you think, slinking into the bathroom with a plan in mind.

You bend down under the sink where you keep things that wouldn’t hurt anybody should they get pulled out; ointment for wet rash, diapers, and the little disposable pregnancy tests for emergencies.

You and Steve are careful after your lovely first Avery. She’d been a surprise, and you weren’t willing to be blindsided again, but now that you’re actively trying the more expensive pregnancy tests have been taken upstairs and in tens. How many have you taken in the last three or four months? Too many to count, and the latest only last night.

The test said negative, but you’ve been pregnant twice already. You know what it feels like. You’d woken up this morning and turned to watch Steve still sleeping, and you’d thought about waking him, but you didn’t want to get his hopes up again without knowing for sure.

You let the test develop on the sink, contemplative, drying your washed hands slowly. You can hear Steve laughing like a kid in the kitchen, Bethie’s infectious baby laughter quick to follow.

Avery shouts something like, “Stop, dad!” but you’re not sure what they’re fighting about.

Trying for a baby is fun. It’s stressful, sure, but you enjoy the process (whoops) and there’s something so hopeful about waiting to see when it’ll happen. Steve is doubly excited, his anticipation contagious, and you want another baby so much you’ve started buying baby clothes, a wardrobe full of onesies and you’re stuffing in new socks and footie pyjamas every other day. You’ve even picked out the new wallpaper for the nursery.

You really, really want another baby.

The test finishes developing. You stare at it until your eyes cloud with tears.

Last night, you took a test that didn’t come out with anything. Steve hadn’t baulked. He never does. He’d given you a short kiss and a longer hug, whispered, “It’s okay, we’ll just have to try again,” into your hair.

You can’t help yourself. You grab the test and sweep out of the bathroom down the hallway to the kitchen. Bethie’s eyes glow when she sees you, her small arms held out to you waiting to be picked up.

You’re very very sorry, but you throw yourself at Steve instead.

“Hey!” he laughs, pushing you away. “I’m covered in sugar!”

You wrap your arms behind his neck, “I don’t care!”

“What?” he asks, totally perplexed. Then, despite his confusion, Steve hugs you tight and lets out a contented sigh. “Why are we so happy?”

You make some space between you again to show him the test. His hand comes up under yours slowly, bigger, often gentler, cupping your fingers as he bends down to see it. “Oh,” he says. He falls quiet for a few seconds.

When he looks up, he’s smiling. “Honey!” His smile abruptly catches, tears filling his eyes. “Oh my god.”

“No, don’t,” you say, your voice wobbling.

Steve tries to pick you up and spin you around, but there’s no room and you’re too heavy, too sure-footed, arms around his neck and kissing up his cheek. “You’re acting like I’m the one pregnant!” he says, fighting to kiss your cheek instead. “I’m so happy,” —he kisses you— “I could die,” —his lips press rough to the highest point of your cheek— “I could cry!”

“You are crying,” you laugh wetly.

Tears rush down his cheeks. “Three is so many.”

“What? Don’t say that.” You wince as Bethie starts crying. “She thinks that too.”

Steve picks Bethie up from her high chair and Avery in all her little Steve-ness gives you a brown eyed, doe-wide smile, pointing at your face. “Sad,” she says. “You’m crying, mom.”

“I’m not–“ You wipe your cheeks with the backs of your hands. “I’m not sad, babe, I’m happy! Mommy’s so happy! It’s making me cry because I’m super happy, I’m not sad.” You smile at her sweetly. “Do I look sad, my love?”

“Up, mommy,” she says, lifting her hands. You pick her up and laugh another round of tears down your cheeks as she starts to wipe them away. “Happy.”

“Extremely happy,” Steve says.

“Dad, you–” She looks between you both with a cartoonish frown. “Dad cry too?

“We are both so happy,” you say.

Avery mumbles some strange garble of words in her high voice, and then asks more clearly for her buppy. Steve starts to open one of her bottles but his tears suddenly escalate, and he can’t see enough to finish pouring in her formula.

“We’re having another baby,” he says to you.

You breathe in a much needed breath. “Yeah, H. Another baby.”

He passes you Beth, forcing you to manage both of the girls in your arms, and gets about halfway down the hall before he whoops loud enough to make you jump.

“Okay,” he says, jogging back. “Can I call Robin? I’m so fucking excited.”

You dot kisses against small foreheads. “We can tell, can’t we?” you ask, to Avery’s amusement.

“Can tell, dad!” she parrots.

Steve grabs you and pulls the three of you into an ironclad embrace. “I love you,” he says, much quieter now. You honestly don’t need him to tell you, you can feel it in every moment you spend together, but you take the confession greedily.

“Yeah?”

“Too much,” he says. He starts kissing you again, an overflowing heap of them, until the girls are too jealous to speak and you’re as late for work as you’ve ever been.

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casualhedonists · 3 months

Text

into the mist, into the clouds

pairing: lucy gray x fem!reader

words: 3.5k

warnings: very few; fluff, angst, mystery and intrigue etc, post tbosas lucy gray

playlist for this fic • main masterlist

a/n: my first non-smut fic on here! title from carolina by taylor swift, which this fic is very much based on. this is one of my favorite things i've written in a very long time. enjoy 🤍

i do not give permission for my work to be reposted/translated anywhere, under any circumstances.

“You didn’t see me here.”

Whispered words fill the space between you. Your head rests in her lap, dress crisp and clean and smelling like you, like your home. She looks at you with a sense of urgency, one you’ve seen all too many times before.

“What? Lucy Gray, you’re not…”

She can’t be leaving again. She only just arrived. The morning had brought dew and her muddied boots on your porch for the first time in months. Your mother was gone for the day, it was almost like Lucy Gray had known. Her dress was covered in dirt and grass stains. You piled it into a hamper, washed it in the fresh water of the creek down the hill from your house, scrubbing away while she collected firewood.

“I am. Tomorrow. Dawn.”

“Let me come with you.”

“It’s not safe, my love. I can keep myself protected if I’m alone. I’m startin’ to get real good at it.”

You don’t ask if she’d come back. Neither of you ever know the answer to that.

“Will you do something for me, Lucy Gray?”

Your voice drops. The fire crackles, the pine cones you’d collected together popping as they burn. She likes the sound, she told you. It was safe, comforting. Homely. You’d wondered if she was really talking about the fire, or you, the girl who sat with her in its warmth.

“Anything. You know I will.”

“Would you leave before I wake up? I’m not sure I can say goodbye to you again.”

She smiles, soft and sad, and gazes at you like you’re a song, or something she wants to memorise.

“Of course I will. It’ll be like I never came back here at all.”

The glow of the flames dance across her face.

“I don’t want that.” You whisper. “I hate feeling like you’re slipping away from me.”

She lowers her head to yours, your foreheads touch. You hear the smile in her voice.

“I’m here now, aren’t I?”

You’ve learned not to waste your time in tears, when she’s going to leave. There are better ways to spend those last moments, eyes dry and focused on tracing the lines of her face, committing it to memory for the last time in who knows how long. You sit up, curling into her, pressing your lips to hers, her hair still damp and smelling like the bar of soap you’d lent her when you fixed her a bath, your pruned fingertips massaging her scalp as the water began to cool. You make it to bed, sleeping soundly with her arms around you.

True to her word, she leaves in the morning. Leaving no trace, no proof she was ever there in the first place. But you feel the warmth of the sheets next to you, and you know.

She finds you the next summer.

“Don’t move.”

You freeze, long grass up to your knees, long skirt swishing as you wade through the field, sun blaring down on you.

A pair of warm hands press softly over your eyes.

“You’re back.” You beam, spinning around, taking her head in your hands, eyes shut, just listening to her breathing. You press your lips to hers.

“I sure am.” When you break away to take her in, look at her sunkissed face, you’re not sure you’ve ever seen her smile wider. If you didn’t know better, you’d say she got more beautiful every time you saw her.

You lie sun-drunk in the shade of the tall grass, lazing against each other as you go over your birthday, the village gossip, and she listens. Always listening, drinking up your words like she’s parched.

You’ve learned not to ask Lucy Gray where she’s been hiding, you both know it’s safer the less gets said. But she presses on, ever gentle, asking you for details when you fill her in on your life.

You jump at a movement in the grass beside you, but she just laughs. Picks up the snake, humming as it wraps and twists itself around her hand.

“These ones won’t hurt you, darlin’. They’re docile, see? Wouldn’t harm a fly.”

She lifts the snake to you slowly.

“You’re sure?”

“Do you trust me?”

“Always.” You reply instantly, like you’ve waited your whole life to hear the question.

“Then hold out your hand.”

You reach out.

“Close your eyes.”

You do. After a second, you feel hers, pressing into your palm, and an oddly warm sensation, smooth.

“It feels… dry.”

You open your eyes. The snake twists and drapes between the two of you, loosely binding your hand with Lucy Gray’s, holding you together.

She laughs, bright and sweet, like music.

“Well, what were you expecting?”

“I don’t know.” You confess. “Maybe for it to be wet? Slippery?”

Her laughter chimes through the field, a low gust of winding carrying it away. You stay like that for a few more hours, until night begins to fall, and the summer wind carries her away, too.

A year passes. Then another half.

Your mother gets older; she gets sick. You venture outside the bounds in twelve, slipping under the rusted wire fence with a basket, collecting herbs you’d started to read about but couldn’t afford. You make tinctures, teas, you light incense and fill the house with sprigs of rosemary and thyme. It slows down the sickness that tore through her like wildfire. When she passes, it’s beautifully peaceful, like a candle being blown out. You carry her ashes to the lake and you spread them, lingering by the Covey’s cabin. Hoping.

She doesn’t come. You walk home, humming something you think you remember her singing years ago. You start to wonder if she was just something you dreamt up, an old folk song you sing to yourself each night before you fell asleep.

Spring rolls around, and your empty house gathers dust. Your way with herbs and remedies gets around, starting with a few bottles gifted to a neighbour with influenza. Her granddaughter comes to your doorstep with the empty vial and a bag of potatoes. You smile and thank her.

“Are you a witch?” She asks, barely ten years old and looking up at you with dark, mistrusting eyes. You laugh.

“I’m not too sure about that, hon. Did the herbs help?”

She nods, a frown etched along her features.

“Then perhaps I’m a good one.”

Before you know it, word gets around that you cured the old woman. You make a living collecting herbs, crushing them down, and people line up outside your door most days. You find a slice of peace in it, in the routine.

But winter is cruel, and the house turns cold. The house that was once the perfect size for you and your mother now feels like too much money and work to heat, and things start breaking, and leaking. You hear from your cousin in Seven, you’ve inherited a log cabin and a slice of land on the edge of some woods from a great-aunt you never met.

You weigh your options. You go to the lake and skim stones in the icy water, mulling it over.

To leave Twelve is everyone’s dream. But Lucy Gray. The gentle ghost who lingers over your shoulder. How will she find you, if she ever comes back? You can’t stay here waiting forever. One bad frost kills your crops, the chill sets into your bones, and you make up your mind. You pack up your herbs and bottles, your books and your clothes, the pinecone you keep beneath your pillow, the silver snake bracelet she gave you many years ago, and you leave. A simple, smudged note sits under the plant pot on the porch, your old hiding place for the spare house key where she’ll know to look:

I’m in the trees. Come find me.

District Seven has more trees than you’ve ever seen. Twelve is known for it’s forests and fields, but these woods are expansive, spanning over miles, trees lined up perfectly, the smell of freshly chopped wood filling your senses.

Every step you took made you wonder if Lucy Gray been here, if the birds in these trees had heard her saccharine voice.

Your herbs sell a lot better in Seven. It’s enough to buy new clothes, and the village is better kept. The people are kind, warm and friendly. You can finally afford to eat your fill. Your cabin at the edge of the woods stays warm and comfortable, the wood is plentiful, you chop your own from the land that’s now yours.

Sometimes when your head spins from the weight of the axe you see movement in the woods, and you wonder. Sometimes you peer inside, certain that it’s her. But she feels so far away from you now, that you can’t help but feel you’ve abandoned her.

You take walks through the forests; you whistle to the birds and listen for the ones who might sing back. You hear nothing. One day, in the town, you walk by a window display with an old, beat-up guitar. It looks well-loved, and something draws you to it. Faded gold paint around the sound hole, strings messy but you go inside and barter, and take it home with you.

You hum some of the old songs she used to sing, try to piece together chords on the strings that aren’t snapped. It sounds like a mess but you play anyway. It feels like a piece of her that you want to keep close to you. You’ve learned to become a collector of sorts.

You’re kept warm through winter, and spring fades into summer. You take the little fishing boat that came with the cabin out on the river, and hike through the forest. You take your guitar with you, and one day, finally, you hear it.

A mockingjay.

It sings your broken tune back to you, bouncing through the pines. A smooth voice cuts through the birdsong.

“Did you miss me?”

Lucy Gray.

Your head spins around. And there she is, smiling, and you fall into her arms.

“I was so scared. I thought you weren’t coming back.”

“I know. I’ll be honest, I didn’t think I would either.”

“But you’re here, you found me! My note, I didn’t know if…”

“The trees.” She grins. “District Seven. It made perfect sense, my love.”

“I can’t believe you’re here. Lucy Gray, you don’t know how happy I am to see you.”

“Oh, I think I do. If you think for a second you’re alone in that, you couldn’t be more wrong. Now,” she adds, nodding at the guitar, “what do we have here?”

You take her onto the river, safer in Seven than you’d ever been in Twelve. She watches as you grind up lavender, the smell filling up the cabin, fascinated as you explain the hobby that you’d turned into work. She fixes your guitar strings, teaches you some simple chords. You sit on the porch, playing while she sings.

“It suits you here, you know.”

“You think so?”

“I do.” She pauses. “I was so sorry to hear about your ma. She was a good woman. She was always kind to me. To everyone.”

“Thank you. I’m okay now, really. I like it here. It’s quiet, peaceful. I think that’s what she’d want for me.”

When she stares up at the sky, birds soaring up above, the rush of the wind through the trees, you can’t help but ask. This is all so perfect, and after so long you can’t bear the thought of her leaving again.

“Do you know how long…”

She smiles.

“Maybe a day or two? If that’s okay.”

You can’t hide your grin. You nod, and she glances up at you.

“Of course that’s okay. More than okay.”

Her fingers press over yours as she demonstrates a final chord. She sits behind you as you strum, grinning at her, head spinning around and she’s so close, it’s almost surreal.

“You did it!” She’s beautiful. Vivid like a daydream, all technicolor.

“That’s all of it?”

“That’s all of it. Just play those four over again and you’ve got yourself a song.”

Your fingers intertwine, hand slipping from the guitar.

“Thank you for teaching me.” You whisper with a smile.

“You’ll remember it, won’t you?” There’s a solemness to it.

You frown.

“Of course I will. I’ll practice all the time.”

“You promise?” Her voice is desperate.

You slide the guitar to the floor and take her hand in yours, clasping it to your chest. Eyes making a silent oath.

“I won’t forget, Lucy Gray. I promise you.”

She nods, corners of her mouth turning up into a smile. You sigh.

“You know I’ve kept everything, don’t you? All of it. Everything I have that reminds me of you.”

“I saw the pinecone on the mantelpiece. Was that from-”

“The time we made the fire in 12? Yeah.”

She lights up.

“You’re such a romantic. I love it. You-”

Your lips press to hers, suddenly overcome with emotion. When you pull away, she sees the tears on your cheeks.

“I’m sorry. I… I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.” You cry. “I really didn’t, and… I don’t want you to leave, I-”

Her wide eyes fill with apology.

“I know. I wish I didn’t have to leave, sugar. I’m sorry it took me so long this time. I wish I could tell you how much it hurts to be away. It feels like I never really rest, until I’m back with you. Does that make sense?”

You nod, blinking away your tears.

“Will you do something for me, my love?” She presses, soft hands brushing away your tears.

“Anything.”

“Until tomorrow, can we pretend I’m not leaving? Pretend like this is our normal. Like we’ve got all the time in the world.”

You close your eyes, then look at her again, just as quickly, not wanting to waste a precious second.

“All the time in the world.” You whisper back.

True to your word, you make the most of it. She leaves you the next morning. You say a proper goodbye this time, holding her like you’ll never let go. But you do.

Weeks stretch on and you can feel her slipping away again. The birds ease the pain, singing her pretty melodies back to you, like a worn-out record you’ve played on repeat. You throw the windows and doors open, filling the house with summer’s balmy air and the sound of her voice bouncing through the rooms as if she was still there. But soon enough, they forget her dulcet notes, and you’re alone with yourself again.

You track the time through seasons, like you always have. The summer draws to a bittersweet close, and you miss it before it’s fully gone.

You slip back into your routine. You take the boat out alone. The schoolchildren sneak up to your door at times, you hear them whispering. The witch rumours are back in full swing but you don’t mind them. You think it rather suits you. You open the door, much to their horror, and offer them some cookies. They come dutifully back for more on Saturdays, and you appreciate the bit of company.

You keep your promise, and it keeps her alive. You practice the chords she taught you, rough calluses starting to form on your fingers. You trace them at night when the world gets too quiet, and as winter closes in again it gets quieter still. The birds fly away to escape the cold, and you wonder if out there somewhere, she might see them. You find yourself praying the winter isn’t being too cruel to her, wherever she is.

One day, at the market, you’re sat at your stall selling chamomile and sage tea, and you hear her name, like a question in someone’s voice. They remember. They remember her. Your heart swells. You want to scream at the top of your lungs, it’s her. She is the girl you love.

She appears more and more in your dreams, some nights you’re restless, dreaming of her scared, running from something in a dark forest, sometimes you’re there by her side. Other times you wake with a start thinking she’s knocking at your door. You sprint outside into the darkness, barefoot on the damp grass, turning in circles before you catch your breath.

You could make yourself some valerian root tea as a remedy, but you don’t. You don’t mind her living on through your dreams. In fact, it’s quite the opposite.

You’re comforted by this haunting.

She finds you again. She always does.

“I saw the Covey a few months ago.” You tell her, the first night you spend together, lay in your bed, arms and legs a tangled mess, her hand in your hair.

Her eyes light up.

“Did you really? Close to here?”

You nod.

“They weren’t here for long. I’m not sure they recognised me, I was at the back of the room. It was pretty dark.”

Her eyes are wistful, filled with something you think you understand now.

“It all feels like so long ago, doesn’t it? I forget sometimes, just how long it’s been.” She looks to the floor. “And Maude Ivory – was she there? How’d she look?”

“She was.” You grin. “She looked happy. Healthy. She was smiling and dancing the whole night, like she always used to.”

You pause for a second, wondering if you should go back, mention that she, much like you, must still have an emptiness, a gap in her life even after all these years, but it’s like Lucy Gray reads your mind. Always one step ahead.

“That’s good.” She says decidedly. “It’s all I ever wanted for her. To be happy. Free. Thank you for telling me. I… I think about them a lot. About all of it. But I always hoped they’d move on without me.”

You’re quiet when you speak again.

“Lucy Gray, I don’t think anyone could ever move on from you.”

It lingers in the air. You speak up again.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Of course you can.”

“When I saw them that night, I stayed for the whole set, because… well, it’s silly,” you confess, “I couldn’t stop watching. I kept thinking that you’d show up. Like they’d just announce your name and they’d all cheer like they did in Twelve. Like you would get up there and sing, and see me in the crowd, and just… smile. Like you’d asked me to be there that night.”

It’s back again, that wistful look of hers.

“I sure wish I had been, sugar. But I think I’d rather be here with you than up on that stage, these days.”

Warmth fills your chest. “Yeah?”

She takes a breath.

“It’s important that people forget me. It’s safer this way. I don’t know what they’d do if they found me, but I know for certain I don’t plan to find out. Maybe one day… well, we’ll have to see. But for now, I could stay a little longer. Would that be okay? If I stayed until the week ends?”

Stay forever, you want to say. But you nod, holding her like she’s already gone.

When she leaves, it’s too soon. Always too soon. You stand in front of the cabin, wishing you could mold your hand around hers and never let go. You kiss her goodbye.

“You didn’t see me here.” She whispers against your lips.

“Not sure I know what you’re talking about.” You respond, and her lips turn into a half-smile.

“Now. Close your eyes.”

You press them shut, feeling her hands slip from yours. When you open them, she’s gone again.

As the years go by, you stop hearing the name Lucy Gray altogether. She starts to feel more like a folk tale; a messy, ink splashed cursive on old parchment. You yearn to speak of her, to keep her legacy alive, but you can’t. You don’t. You remember, though. The world could forget about Lucy Gray Baird, but your memory of her lived on like a still-beating heart, and in turn it kept her alive. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t keep you alive, too.

You make quite the name for yourself, your apothecary bringing in customers from across Seven, sometimes further. So much so, that sometimes you wonder if when she passes through Twelve or Seven, she hears about you and remembers, counting down the days until she gets to come home.

She still haunts your dreams, slipping away as soon as you wake up. But she’ll come back. No matter how many times she leaves. Wherever you go, she’ll find you. She could go anywhere in the world, but she’ll always come back home to you. And you’ll be waiting for her, even if the world curses her name, even if the Covey forgets her too. You understand now. She’s as much yours as you are hers. And when she comes home, it’ll always feel like she never left. And that’s enough for you. It was always enough.

You leave your porch light on.

taglist: (i'm just gonna tag people who showed interest in the excerpt/might like this!) @etfrin @darby-rowe @ohstardew @ohmeadows @sabrinasbd @ctrlovertheworld

#mimi writes! 🕊️#tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #lucy gray baird #lucy gray x reader #lucy gray baird x reader #lucy gray x you #lucy gray baird x you #the hunger games x reader #tbosas x reader #thg tbosas #the hunger games fanfiction #x reader #x you #x you fluff #x you angst #reader insert #itmitc

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cowgurrrl · 1 year

Text

Sweet Jane

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader (plus platonic Ellie Williams x fem!reader)

Author’s note: this actually ripped my heart out and made me realize why I don’t write angst

Summary: “If I have children, I hope they live quiet lives. No fires for them. No sickness. No breaking news stories. I hope they die of old age, far from the pages of history books.” - oh, to live unremarkably by Trista Mateer [2.3k]

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, talks of child loss (reader has lost a child) teen pregnancy, tumultuous parent/child relationships, references to a sexual relationship but nothing explicit, reader is a badass because I said so, ANGST

The second you saw her, you knew this was a possibility. You knew it would happen at one point but watched your tongue. You thought it would happen in the middle of a firefight or trying to survive a horde of Infected or some other dangerous situation where you couldn't stop the words from tumbling out of your mouth. It doesn't. It happens on a sunny autumn day while walking away from the ravaged Kansas City. She was trying to show off or prove something to Joel when she tried to run forward without warning. It came out as a gasp as you grabbed her backpack and yanked her back before her foot could slip off the ledge of a cliff. Your heart pounded as you gripped her like you were waiting for her to start falling again. She mumbled a quick sorry before you let her go. She didn't try to run forward again after that.

She waits longer than you expected to ask about it. After you set up camp for the night and cook whatever Joel decided, Ellie looks at you and asks, "who's Jane?" Joel's brows furrow at the question, and your chest tightens. “You called me Jane earlier."

"Jane's my daughter." You catch yourself using the present tense, and grief trickles down your spine like an unpleasant cold shower. Saying that she was your daughter sounds wrong. It's been years now, but you can't make yourself switch. She's still your daughter, even if she's gone. You're still her mom. You'll always be her mom.

"Oh," she gapes, and you nod. You can feel Joel's eyes on you, but you don't look at him. If you do, the words will tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You didn't know." You say, shrugging as if she gave you the wrong directions instead of asking about your kid. She doesn't push the subject anymore, and you eat silently until Ellie crawls into her sleeping bag and falls asleep.

Cicadas' chirps and the fire's crackling fill the space between Joel and you. The stars twinkle as the clouds move in the night sky. It's peaceful. Or it would be, at least, if Joel hadn't been fiddling with his gun for the past twenty minutes. The metal clicking is almost enough to drive you crazy, and you shoot him a look. He freezes and meets your eyes before letting his hands drop.

"Sorry," he says, and you chuckle. He props the gun up next to him and glances around to make sure nothing's decided to sneak close to you.

"I think we're safe," You say.

"For now."

"Joel Miller, ever the optimist."

"It ain't about being optimistic. It's about being smart."

"Right," you shake your head and look at Ellie sleeping in the corner. Her chest rises and falls steadily as she dreams secret dreams. You smile when she snuggles deeper into her sleeping bag and scrunches her nose. "You think she'll be okay?" You ask, meeting his eyes.

"Kids seem to handle these things better."

"Sam was her friend."

"I know." He says. Images of shaky guns, Ellie's screams, and the silence that followed Henry's body hitting the floor replay in your mind in slow motion. You're trying to figure out where it went wrong, when the universe pulled yet another rug out from under you. When you put the two kids to bed, everything was fine, and not even eight hours later, Sam and Henry were dead. How many people will you bury before you get to the Fireflies?

"I'm tired," you admit softly. You can tell by the faraway look in his eyes that he's in his own head, turning things over to look for new details. He's looking for something he missed. "What're you thinking about?" You ask, snapping him out of it, and he shifts uncomfortably.

"You never told me you had a daughter." He finally says, and you nod. You look down at your bootlaces and untie them, so you don't have to look at him.

"It never came up."

"Her name was Jane?" He phrases it like he wasn't listening the first time, but you know he's trying to get you to open up about her.

"Jane Eloise," saying her full name scratches at an unhealed wound deep in your stomach. You think about all the times you shouted those names across the apartment to her. You were always late for school, late for a birthday party, and late for appointments. You're almost positive she would've been late to her own birth if you hadn't been induced. Rushing was the way you lived your life for that decade. You would give anything to be running late with her again. "If I talk about her, I'm gonna cry." You warn.

"That's okay." His voice is so soft, and he's looking at you with those big eyes, and something shifts. You haven't talked about her in years, but something in Joel's demeanor makes you feel safe enough to unlock the door in your brain, holding all her memories.

"I had her when I was sixteen. I was pregnant throughout my sophomore year of high school and had a toddler by the time I went to college. I still don't know how, but I graduated. I was gonna go to med school and start a brand new life, just the two of us. I spent so fucking long studying, but it didn't matter."

"How come I didn't know all this?"

"We agreed to keep our pasts to ourselves when we started," you hesitate—started seeing each other as stress relief and nothing else? Started lying to Tess so you could fuck in alleys in between deals? Started pretending like it meant nothing? "I never thought you'd want to know more than you had to."

"I want to know now," He says like it's the easiest thing in the world. "Did her dad stay around to help you?"

"No, he left the second he got the chance. It was probably for the better, anyway. He was an asshole. I still don't know if he's alive or if he even knows what happened. I don't know if I care enough to find out."

"How old was she when she…" he trails off, the last word dying on his tongue. You swallow around the lump in your throat and take a shaky breath.

"Ten."

"I'm sorry." He says, and you nod. You never knew how to respond to people when they told you they were sorry your kid was dead. You still don't. Nobody tells you about this part in parenting classes.

"We got out on Outbreak Day. Somehow, I kept her alive until I could get her to the QZ nearby. I smuggled there for a few years and made enough money to feed and clothe her. That's better than most people were able to do. I would pick her up from school and walk her home most days but I had a deal with one of my neighbors, Mrs. Carmichael, that if I couldn't pick her up from school, she would. She picked her up a few times, and nothing went wrong. So, when I got caught up in a deal outside the walls one day, I thought it was safe to finish it and be home by dinner," you say, regret washing over you all at once. "Then, Fireflies started dropping bombs. I heard the explosions all the way out there, and I ran back, but it didn't matter. They were both gone."

"When I told my mom I was pregnant, she was furious. She told me that a mother's love is nothing compared to a mother's fury. At least, that was her excuse when she threw me out, but I didn't know if I believed her until that day. After Jane died, I ripped the entire city apart, looking for every single Firefly that had orders to drop bombs that day, and I killed all of them without batting an eye, and it still didn't bring her back. I still woke up every morning and listened for her breathing or the sound of her making cereal in the kitchen. I waited for her to come home every day for years," tears fall from your eyes, and you quickly wipe them away. Joel is clinging to your every word. "I couldn't stay there. My daughter and everyone who could've been responsible for her death was dead, so I came to Boston. Met you and Tess, and that was it."

"That's why you wanted to kill Marlene when we got Ellie." He says, connecting the dots, and you nod.

"I wanted to drop a fucking bomb on her head for what she did. I don't care if that makes me cruel. She killed my kid and called her collateral. Made it seem like she was a part of the cause and not a fucking child just trying to get home from school."

"I get it," he says. You open your mouth to say something about how he could never understand, how nobody ever could, but he beats you to it. "My… Sarah was fourteen," He stumbles over his words. "I wanted to kill the guy who shot her. I didn't care that he was following orders on that day, I wanted him to suffer, but he was already dead."

Joel had a daughter, not much older than yours, and you never talked about either of them. He's one of the only people in the world who can see your pain, the black hole Jane left in you, and show you his matching one. Joel must've been young when he had his daughter, too. Twenty-two, at the very least. How could you have never talked about this?

"What was Sarah like?"

"She was a spitfire and just about the funniest person I've ever known. Smart as hell, too. She was always readin' and telling me everything she learned in school. I never understood half of it, but she loved it," He says, and it's your turn to cling to his every word. His eyes light up as he talks about her. You see now what a good dad he must've been. "Still don't know where she got it from."

"Well, I'd say she got it from her dad. You're smarter than you give yourself credit for." You say, but he shakes his head, refusing the compliment.

"What about Jane? What was she like?" He asks, and you think for a moment. You remember her big brown eyes; how they widened when she was excited about something or glazed over with tears when she was afraid. You remember how her laugh could fill a room. You remember cradling her in your arms when she came into the world and when you found her.

"She was the most beautiful person I've ever met. When she was born, all the nurses would take turns coming into my room to look at her. They couldn't stop telling me how cute she was, and I agreed with them. She was perfect," you smile, remembering how many pictures you took of her tiny face. You had been terrified your entire pregnancy, but the second you saw her, you knew you were meant to be her mom. You felt completely at peace with her, even as young and unprepared as you were.

"She was quiet and curious, but she also had moments where she was loud and careless like kids usually are. I never understood what people meant when they said having kids gave them a whole new idea of what love could be until I had her. She was the best thing that ever happened to me." You say. Joel watches you wipe more tears away before putting his hand on your knee and squeezing. He doesn't say anything, but the look in his eyes tells you everything.

"I wonder if they would've been friends. Our daughters." He thinks aloud.

"I like to think so."

"Me too," he says. He clears his throat, probably trying to bury any emotions this conversation brought up. "She would've loved you."

"You think?" You ask, and he nods.

"You two would've been thick as thieves. Probably conspire against me or somethin'."

"And that's different from now, how?" He laughs at that, and you smile. You put your hand over his and let your thumb trace the contours of his knuckles. Those bruised, scarred, terrifying mountains that have killed and beaten soften under your touch.

You don't say much else for the rest of the night. You just hold his hand and stay awake to protect the girl not much older than your daughters were. The fear, cautious optimism, and sadness that came along with Ellie, that you thought you were alone in feeling doesn't feel as heavy anymore. The black hole Jane left will never be filled, and you will miss her for the rest of your life, but Joel opening up and showing you his similar wound makes you feel less alone.

It makes you wonder if your girls are together somewhere far from all the pain and bloodshed. You wonder if they've secretly conspired to make you two find each other. You wonder what they would think of each other, of the people their parents turned into, of Ellie. It's nice to think they're together, playing silly games while waiting for you.

Not yet, sweet Jane, you think as you look at the stars, and maybe it's a mind trick or exhaustion, but you swear a star winks back at you. Not yet, Mommy, she seems to agree.

💫

#joel and ellie #the last of us #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel tlou #the last of us x reader #ellie williams #joel miller the last of us #joel miller angst #sarah miller #tlou angst #i wrote this for me but you can read it too i guess #look for the light

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indianamoonshine · 2 years

Text

pillow talk | din djarin x reader | request

rating: m as always. 18+.

summary: din comes back from a hunt while you’re sleeping. he has something to confess.

author’s note: this was a request from the list i had reblogged last weekend!

you’d been entering your REM sleep when he crawls into bed.

it’s a subtle shift but it’s enough to stir you awake, a slight intake of air sounding in the darkness. the joys of a ship like the apricus allowed for a large enough bed for the two of you to comfortably sleep in. and while the romantic aspect of your relationship with din was fairly new, sleeping in the same bed was not. sometimes, traveling across the galaxy meant sharing close quarters even before you’ve felt their kiss or memorized the contours of their face in the darkness.

din’s bare chested, tepid, and freshly showered. he smells of bar soap and a spice you’ve grown to love since knowing him; it’s an essential ingredient in the shampoo he used. sometimes when he is away for far longer than you’d like, using his toiletries is a little way of feeling less homesick for him.

a warmth blooms in your chest when he pulls you close and covers the two of you with a thick, woolen blanket he’d bought for you on his travels. with your back against his chest, you can feel every rise and fall of his breath - every beat of his heart. you make a small noise to indicate you’re awake, but not at all disturbed by it.

din’s only been away for four days which - at first felt like eons - but now seems like the most wonderful gift you could receive. still, it doesn’t make the lonely nights any less cold when he’s gone. so to feel him here, safe and at home, lessens the anxiety you’ve been harboring.

“‘m sorry i woke you…” he mumbles in your shoulder, inhaling what he finds to smell so lovely. you really don’t think you smell much like anything, but he lets out a sleepy moan of satisfaction nonetheless.

you bring a hand to thread in his curls and rub your thumb at his scruffy jaw. “don’t be. you know i prefer to be woken when you come home.” your voice is like a cloud - drifting and fluffy; full of something unpredictable because of instability.

din’s arms wrap tighter around your waist like you’ll dissipate into the realm of dreamscape. his nose slots behind your ear and he kisses the shell of it before he whispers -

“i can’t fathom the idea of my life without you in it…”

it’s sung sweet and softly, tickling at your spine. your fingers threading through his locks of hair still, but the empty palm at your side presses against the hand at your waist. you turn in his grasp, aware that the night will shroud his face from your vision.

he trusts you, without hesitation, and allows you to shift your knee between his legs so you can entangle with him comfortably. the two of you are nose to nose, oxygen mingling in the space between you.

“what brought this on?” you ask, running a finger across his brow bone where you can feel worry lines begin to form.

din is silent, considering his next words carefully. “there was a couple that gave me lodging while i was gone. the wife was ill with fever…” he pauses and you can almost hear his heart skip with disdain at the memory. “she passed my last night there. and the husband…he…”

he shakes his head, clearing an image you suspect he’d rather forget.

“it never gets easier to watch someone mourn their loved ones. but now that i…” he stops, his sentence halting so quickly that you can almost hear the gears in his head shift.

strange. din is methodical in everything he does - even storytelling. but now he struggles to form his thoughts like an inebriated person; it’s far too careful to avoid suspicion, though that’s exactly what it ends up doing.

“din?” you whisper. “now that you what?”

he lets out a great sigh. “now that i can understand how terrible the pain must be.”

oh.

you still, allowing him to continue without spooking him into shutting down. yes, you think, please tell me. please, please, please.

din cups your cheek and brings your forehead to meet his with a keldabe kiss - an honor, sacred in its purpose - despite the fact that his lips are exposed.

“i think i’m falling for you.”

the confession is drawn out and rough around the edges, din’s voice cloaked with an emotion he’s never experienced in his life. his bravery to expose himself like this - to be so honest and raw - brings tears to your eyes.

you find yourself allowing a few tears to escape, the avowal leaving a brittle and beautiful taste in the atmosphere. you smile and sniffle, blushing when din reaches out to wipe the tears from your pink cheeks.

“i love you,” you tell him in a whisper that cracks. “i love you so much that it hurts.”

din presses his lips against yours and you let him, sinking into his arms more than you thought possible.

“i love you, sweet girl…” he mumbles between kisses. “i’ll always keep you safe.”

#din x reader #din djarin x reader #mando x reader #mw1

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shadowlali · 7 months

Note

Can I ask for smuttie please 🥺🙏 Graves and his wife got into fight and almost divorce but they have sexy time and decide they love each other too much, and they stay together 🥰

a second chance

COD - Phillip Graves x fem!reader

[18+] wc: ~ 3.3k masterlist

warnings: NSFW, some proofreading, inaccurate military references about tracking equipment, feelings of fear, angst, established relationship, pet names (babydoll and honey), oral (f! receiving), unprotected sex

Two years of marriage dwindled down to a few days a month of being in each other’s presence. It becomes normal for Phillip to stay on base most nights. Maybe he comes back for a change of clothes or a shower in your luxury bathroom. Eventually, he leaves again. You try your best in the beginning to get him to stay. Cooking his favorite meals or having his favorite drink ready. He stays for a while, but by morning his side of the bed is ice cold. You don’t recognize him anymore.

Phillip pursued you in the beginning of the relationship. He was patient, telling you he had all the time in the world to wait until you were ready. It was easy to fall in love with him after that. How could your heart not melt when on his days off Phillip made sure you were cared for? Your job wasn’t anywhere near as stressful as his, yet Phillip asked about your day and listened when you vented about your never ending projects or the rude coworker you had. And you were there for him too.

He wasn’t able to provide too many details about his work, but Phillip trusted you. You listened when he opened his heart about failed missions or his fears of losing his chosen family, his Shadows. You mended Phillip’s wounds, the ones that marred his skin and the ones that tore open his heart. You dried his tears and absorbed his pain willingly, because you know he’d do the same and because above all else you love him. When Phillip came home angry from work, you didn’t mind that he took out his frustrations on your body. You loved everything about him. How he lost himself in between your thighs, the feel of his hands on your sensitive skin, his sloppy kisses.

Phillip pulled away slowly, no longer showing up for dinner or to important events. When he pulled away from your touch or stopped talking to you about his day, it didn’t affect you… at first. There would never be a time where you would understand the tragedies he faced or the demons that plagued him.

But God do you miss him. Your resolve is strong, but how long can a marriage like this last?

- - -

It’s a rare occasion, Phillip spending the night. He responds with one word answers, his body present but his mind on something else. You still talk to him, telling him about your plans for the next day. It’s your best friend’s birthday and she wants a small picnic at the lake with her closest friends. You’ll have spotty cell service and will most likely be gone until the evening. Phillip nods along, responding with a quick murmur to keep the tracking device on in your car. It’s not like you know where it is, or how it stays on, so you respond with a simple of course.

Phillip sleeps at your side, enough space between the both of you to fit another person, but nonetheless he’s home. You try to contain your tears, not wanting to disturb him or cause him any trouble. He stays still, an arm over his face and the other placed limply by his side. He waits until your breathing evens out and your body relaxes. Phillip runs light fingertips along the exposed skin of your arm, the nights too warm for blankets to cover your entire body.

He’s sick everyday, his stomach in knots at the thought of losing you. Phillip owns the Shadow Company, aptly named because of their ‘out of sight’ tactics. No one aside from the military or his closest contacts know who he or who his family is. Despite that, the dread cripples him, clouding his brain. What if someone got a hold of you? What if he can’t reach you in time?

From the moment you gave him that gorgeous smile on the first date he placed surveillance on you 24/7. It’s not a secret, you’re well aware of the fact and understand why. You know what your life is as the wife of Phillip Graves. Such a perfect little wife. Never in his life has Phillip met someone so kind and loving.

He can’t remember what life was before you. His only purpose before were medals and large sums of money, guided by feelings of patriotism. None of it compares to you. Phillip’s motivations changed, the world needs to be better, needs to be safe for you.

You shift in your sleep, incoherent mumbles falling from your lips. He stops his movements, the last thing he wants to do is wake you. With a gentle kiss on your cheek, he lifts himself off the bed and changs to leave for base. .

- - -

“I told you, Phillip! I told you last night!” you cry out.

“It doesn’t matter,” he bites out, ”putting yourself in an area with no cell service was incredibly stupid.”

He runs a hand through his hair, heart hammering in his chest. The tracking device had run out of charge as you were leaving the house. Phillip had no idea, stuck in mission briefings before he was notified that they’d lost track of you miles into your drive.

He’d forgotten about the conversation from yesterday, of your plans for the day. To him, his fears were coming true. He tried your phone a few times then immediately dispatched a team to your last known location. And to make matters worse, the tracking function on your phone wasn’t on either.

It was embarrassing, sedans and equipped soldiers appearing out of nowhere. You apologized profusely to your friend, who thankfully took it in stride and thought it was the funniest thing in the world. What’s a party without any drama? She had said while laughing at your embarrassment.

Another time you’ll thank her for not thinking you had ruined her get-together, but all you could do was plead with Phillip to leave, all while staring daggers at him. He did, but not before changing the tracker in your car and placing a rough kiss on your hairline.

It’s evening now. You’re back home, shoes and bag placed by the door. You aren’t sure what to make of earlier today. He hadn’t said much at the lake, his eyes wild until he made sure you were okay. Surprisingly, Phillip was waiting for you in the living room, his boots kicked off and a drink in his hand. The moment he noticed your presence, a screaming match ensued.

“Incredibly stupid, really? I don’t live in a fucking cage, Phillip.”

“Do you know what could have happened to you? Do you know what I live with everyda–”

“What you live with?,” you interrupt him, ”What you live with everyday? I don’t – fuck, I don’t even know what to say to you. All of a sudden you care? You don’t talk to me, you don’t touch me anymore. You don’t let me hug you.” Tears are falling from your eyes but you continue. “You don’t get to pull stunts like that and then blame me.”

“I’m not fucking blaming you! I need you to be smarter than this, fuck!” Phillip yells, standing from the couch and flinging his glass to the ground. It doesn’t break, the carpet is too thick.

“What are we even doing anymore Phillip? I mean what is this,” you gesture between the both of you.

“This is me protecting you–”

“Does your protection include ignoring your wife? I’m talking to you but once again I don’t think you're listening, Phillip,” you pause. He tries to wipe the tears from your cheeks but you dodge him. “I don’t know if I can keep living like this.”

“What? What are you saying exactly, babydoll?”

“How do you think a marriage is supposed to work, Phillip? Do you– do you think it’s okay to only see each other a few days a month? I knew what I was getting into when I married you, Phillip. I knew you weren’t always going to be home. But even on your days off you choose to not be here.”

Phillip stills, his body turns cold with your words. He takes you in, eyes raking over your shaking body. Heavy tears fall from your eyes, face wet and bottom lip between your teeth. The pain in your eyes is more than apparent. He doesn’t try to reach out and hold you, not able to risk rejection again. How could he have fucked up so much that you’re willing to divorce him? You haven’t said the words outright, but he knows where your thoughts are headed.

“I’m fucking scared. I’m fucking scared, honey.” Phillip says, his voice heavy. “Every goddamn day I wake up and I pray that no one finds you. That none of my enemies ever know your name. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He sinks to the floor, losing strength in his body.

“I’m here, Phillip. I’m here.” You can’t help it, you kneel in front of him and place your forehead against his. “I’m not going anywhere and I know I’m safe with you. But I can’t keep going like this. I can’t keep begging you anymore.”

He cups your face with both hands, rubbing his thumbs across your soft skin to wipe away your tears. Too much time wasted on doing what he thought would be right without realizing he was hurting you in the process.

”I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m– gonna’ fix this. You can’t leave me babydoll. I fucked up, but you can’t leave me. I shoulda’ never made you beg for my attention. You’ve always had it, you always will, honey.”

You stay silent. It's not that you don’t believe him, but it's hard for words to erase everything that’s happened so far. He takes in your silence, the sad look in your eyes. Your fingers run through his hair in a soothing pattern, Phillip taking it as a sign that there still might be a chance for him to fix his mess.

“I love you, honey. I love you so much,” he takes a deep breath and continues, ”I know I’ve caused you too much pain but please give me another chance.”

You wait a few moments before responding, “Can you promise me you’ll visit home more often? Can you promise me you won’t ignore me anymore?”

“I swear, babydoll.”

He slowly brings his face towards you, not wanting to scare you off. You allow him, his lips touching yours in a gentle kiss. Phillip moans at the contact, wondering why he’s been punishing the both of you for so long. His tongue traces your bottom lip and you quickly part open your mouth. He grips the back of your neck and pulls you in, his tongue tracing yours. It becomes more intense, teeth clashing and biting. Phillip feels desperate for your touch and for the softness of your skin. He runs his fingers up to grip your hair and breaks the kiss.

“Let me make you feel good, babydoll. Lie down for me.”

You suck in a shaky breath, your body warm and your panties wet with desire. “Okay.”

He helps you take off the short dress you're wearing and unclips your bra. You move to stand to remove your panties, but he places a hand on your chest and lightly presses down. You lay back, spreading your legs to make room for him. Phillip stretches over your body and places warm kisses all over your face and jaw. He licks a path across your cheek, collecting the fallen tears. No more crying, babydoll he whispers along your skin.

You place your hands on his shoulders as he kisses and licks a path down to your neck. He knows every part of your body perfectly, sucking the sensitive skin beneath your ear. Phillip presses his erection up against your clothed pussy, taking the opportunity to grind down. You moan, his mouth on your neck and the friction of his tactical pants making your head spin.

“That feel good, babydoll?”

“Yes, Phillip. More, I want more.”

He hums in response, bringing his fingers to pinch at your hard nipples. He wraps his hands around each, massaging the plump skin. Phillip trails wet kisses to the other side of your neck before moving down to your chest.

He quickly latches onto your nipple, sucking deep. Your back arches off the ground and you grip his head. He groans at your nails digging into his scalp as he switches to your other breast. Phillip bites and sucks each nipple and the soft skin on your chest. My perfect little wife, he whispers, so beautiful.

Your tits grow heavy and swollen from his mouth and you continue grinding up on his erection. Once he’s satisfied, Phillip kisses down your tummy until he reaches your panty-covered pussy. He hooks his fingers on each side of the elastic and with a rough tug, rips them in half. You gasp at the slight sting on your inner thighs, cool air flowing over your wet skin. Another tug and Phillip throws the discarded fabric across the carpet.

“I’m gonna’ lick this pretty pussy until you come for me. How does that sound?”

You whimper at his words and nod quickly.

“Words, honey.”

“Yes, Phillip. Please lick my pussy, please.”

With your thighs placed over his broad shoulders, he skims the tip of his nose along your seam. Phillip breathes in, moaning at your scent. His long fingers spread your folds open and he begins flicking his tongue. Your arousal spreads across his tongue and his mouth waters at the sweet taste. He laps over and over your clit, your hips twisting from the contact.

One of your hands pinches your nipple while the other once again grips his hair. Phillip’s tongue dips into your entrance, thrusting into the warm heat. He can’t get enough, loving the taste of your slick and the sound of your whimpers.

He’s not sure who enjoys this more, you or him. He licks a path back up to your swollen bundle of nerves and flicks his tongue against it. Phillip sinks a finger in your opening, his breath hitching at the tightness. You let out a loud moan, walls clenching around him.

“I need to get you nice and stretched for me, honey.” Phillip says as he adds another finger.

Your head keeps spinning, tummy tightening from his actions. His movements are fast, mouth slurping at your clit and fingers plunging inside of you. He takes them out, marveling at your wetness before spitting at your opening to add a third finger. Completely unnecessary given how slick you are but he doesn’t care. You clamp down at the fullness, knowing his cock will be next.

You reach the edge, heart pounding as your body dissolves into pleasure. White heat spreads from your overstimulated pussy to your entire body. You grind down on Phillip’s fingers and tongue, his name repeatedly falling from your lips as both hands grip his hair.

Phillip keeps going, feeling you twitch and gush around his fingers and mouth. He licks up as much as he can, wanting the taste forever embedded on his tongue. The aftershocks take over your body and you push his head away.

“No more, baby, it’s too – too much, Phillip,” you stutter out.

He places a soft kiss on your mound and spreads your thighs off his shoulders. He leans back on his knees, bringing your hips closer to him. Phillip’s face is wet from your arousal, but he doesn’t mind. He leans down to give you another kiss, tongue pushing its way into your mouth. You moan at your own taste. Phillip pulls back with a quick bite to your bottom lip. He whips off his shirt and uses it to wipe his face before unbuckling his belt and freeing his painfully hard cock.

He’s too desperate for the feel of you, of his wife, to completely take off his pants. He brings them down beneath his heavy balls and squeezes his length. Your eyes take him in, from the dirty blonde hair to his strong chest and down to his thick cock. The tip is flushed red and slightly wet with pre-cum.

“Is this okay, babydoll? Will you let me make love to you?”

You quickly respond, “Please, Phillip. I need you.”

He notches the tip at your opening and slowly plunges in, throwing his head back at the feel of your walls. Your hiss as his cock stretches you. He doesn’t stop until he bottoms out inside of you. Phillip keeps a firm grip on your thigh, making sure your stay spread out for him.

“You okay, honey? Can I keep going?” he manages to bite out.

You hum,” It feels so good, baby. Keep going.”

Phillip nods and pulls out halfway, looking down to see his length covered in your slick. He starts a slow rhythm, loving how you squeeze him. His eyes move up to your gorgeous face, pupils dilated and focused on him. He thrusts in from a different angle.

“I missed you s – so much, Phillip,” you moan, tears once again falling from your eyes.

Phillip gently shushes you, “I know. I know, babydoll. I’m so – fuck – sorry. Never – ungh – never again.”

The tears falling from your face are due to the overwhelming emotion and pleasure running through your body. With each plunge of his hips, Phillip is reminded of the perfect feel of your pussy. Tears sting his eyes as he watches your face, hating himself for putting you through so much pain. Phillip vowed to never hurt you, and he failed. His words to you are true, never again.

Your husky voice cuts through his thoughts, “Faster, baby, please.”

“Yeah, honey. I’ll give you what – ah – whatever you want.”

Phillip thrusts his hips faster, pleasure tightening at his spine. He focuses on you, giving you exactly what you need. He gathers your slick with his thumb and begins rubbing your swollen clit. You missed this, craved this. Craved the touch of your husband. Beads of sweat drip down his hairline and chest. He won’t cum yet, not until he gets a second one from you.

“Can you give me another, babydoll? Can you come for me again?” Phillip coos.

Your head is hazy with lust as you feel tightness in your lower tummy. Your hips bounce and meet his every thrust, wanting to chase another orgasm.

“Just like that, Phillip — ungh — just like that.”

You shatter once more, pulsing around his thick cock. Your eyes roll back into your head and Phillip moves both hands to grip your hips. With blood roaring in his ears, Phillip plunges deep inside of you. It's rough and sloppy, your walls tight around him.

“I love you, I love you,” he chants.

“I love you, baby. Don’t stop.” You moan, digging your nails into his upper arms.

Phillip can’t think straight anymore, your hips twisting and circling beneath him. His orgasm hits him suddenly, balls tightening before they unload inside of you. He fills you up, uncaring of his overwhelming sensitivity. One more thrust and he falls on top of you, his cock throbbing in your wet heat. He gathers you in his arms and flips you both over so you're laying down on top of him, managing to not slip out.

No words are spoken, the both of you too exhausted to speak. Your bodies are wet and sticky, perfect in every way. Phillip links his hand with one of yours and brings it up to his mouth, placing gentle kisses on your knuckles. You both lay there until your heart rates slow down and your breathing evens out.

You’re not sure how much time passes, but Phillip sits you up on the couch. He brings you a glass of water and waits until you finish it all. He turns on the shower in your bathroom and spends the entire time washing your body until you're buzzing with lust again. The rest of the night is spent in each other's arms, Phillip showing you over and over again how sorry he truly is.

#phillip graves x reader #phillip graves x female reader #phillip graves smut #cod x reader #cod mw2 #phillip graves #cod mw2 smut #graves x reader #graves x you #shadowlali

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fictionalwh0ree · 6 months

Note

Hiii,can you do like a best friend reader and I went to billies house and there’s a lot of sexual tension between us and we eventually start making out and yeah.. tyyyyyyyy😭

rainy day- billie eilish

summary: a rainy day puts a wrench in your plans, but maybe its a blessing in disgusie.

word count: 1.6k

warnings: some swearing, alcohol/drinking

being best friends with someone like billie eilish was not easy. between tours, writing and recording, and all the other interviews and press, most of your interaction was over the phone, but you’d managed to keep your bond strong. on this particular weekend, billie had invited you to a party with her and of course, you agreed.

when you showed up to her house to get ready together, the sky was dark with clouds. you knocked on her door holding two large bags with all of your essentials in them, you were set to sleep over there too. she opened the door, wearing sweats and a baggy t-shirt, like you, and her hair was damp. her mouth was full as she chewed on some popcorn, not saying anything as you walked in. you knew her house like the back of her hand and it had become like a second home to you. you followed her into the kitchen and she offered you some popcorn. you took a handful of it before finally speaking.

“so what kind of party is this anyway?” you asked.

“pool,” she responded.

“lets go get ready then, we don’t have that long,” you said, to which she nodded.

you followed her into the master bathroom which featured a double sink with lots of counter space and perfect lighting. as you pulled all your makeup out of your bag, you began to hear slow and sparse drops of rain. that didn’t last long, however, before the rain was pelting heavily. you looked over at billie, wondering how you were going to go to a pool party in pouring rain.

“it’ll probably stop soon. we have time,” she said.

you continued to get ready, but truthfully, you weren’t in the mood to party, so while you had been excited to see billie, you were silently hoping that she was wrong. once your makeup was done, you changed into a nice mini dress that hugged your curves perfectly. billie had been ready slightly before you. you stepped into her bedroom and walked towards her full body mirror but she had barely even noticed you walked in the room as she sat on the bed on her phone.

“bil, can you zip my dress up for me please,” you asked.

she peeled her eyes from the screen and looked at you, your back facing her. her eyes traced your figure from top to bottom slowly, and while she thought you hadn’t noticed, the mirror exposed her to you, a small smirk making its way onto your face as you looked at her through it.

“billie?” you called.

she looked into the mirror, catching your eyes through it, and realizing you had watched her check you out. a slight blush made its way onto her cheeks as she got up and walked to you. she worked on your dress, hooking the clasp at the top before beginning with the zipper.

“when’d you get this dress?” she asked.

“a couple days ago. i got it for this party,” you said proudly, making eye contact with her through the mirror.

once again, you were kind of lying to her. you’d harboured a crush on billie for a while now, so while you had purchased the dress to wear to the party, you’d bought it for her.

“oh really?” she said, her eyebrows cocked up and she smirked.

“mhmmm,” you said happily, “why? you like it?”

“mhm,” she hummed, “just remember you’re sleeping over here.”

“of course,” you said, turning around so you were facing a window.

billie’s right hand dropped to your waist subtly for a moment as you spoke, the feeling giving you butterflies.

“but i don’t think i’ll be putting this dress to use anyway,” you said, “its still pouring.”

“shit, you’re right,” she said, her hand finally leaving your body as she opened her phone to check the weather app.

“its not supposed to stop for another hour,” she sighed.

“well, why don’t we just stay, and we’ll just leave whenever it stops raining?” you offered, sitting on the edge of her bed and looking up at her.

“okay,” she agreed, sitting next to you.

your legs were pressed against each others, but only for a moment as you stood up and began to make your way to her kitchen. she followed suit right behind you.

“where are all your snacks?” you asked, opening all her food cabinets and her fridge and freezer.

“its grocery weekend,” she explained.

“you don’t have any snacks?” you asked, devastation clear in your voice though you were smiling at her.

“i’m sorry,” she laughed, approaching you, “we can make something.”

“okay,” you agreed, “can we make those peanut butter cookies?”

“you read my mind,” she said as she began to grab the ingredients.

you walked away from her and to her bar, pulling out a bottle of strong liquor before walking back to her. she smiled at you and grabbed two shot glasses, from her cabinet. you poured two shots.

“so how are we doing this?” you asked, referring to how you would be pacing your shots.

“one per ingredient?” she asked as grabbed a chaser.

“ok,” you agreed.

you looked at each other and nodded, clinking cups before taking a sip of the chaser, downing the shot with it, and then taking a sip of the chaser. you made a face for a second before beginning to bake with billie. by the second to last step, you were both seven shots deep and definitely too drunk to be baking. you couldn’t even confidently say you had measured out the ingredients correctly. somewhere along the way, one of you found a speaker, and though it definitely mad everything more fun, it also made everything more messy. dancing and singing while trying to pour out dry ingredients had left her counters dirty as fuck.

billie was about to put in the flour, but the alcohol was making her unsteady, and neither of you had remembered to turn the mixer onto a lower speed, so when she poured it in, it flew everywhere, effectively covering you both in flour. billie got the brunt of it, having her face, arms, shirt, and even some of her pants covered in flour. you had gotten some on your face, but most of it was on your chest, arms, and dress.

you immediately bursted out laughing, hunching over and clutching your stomach as you tried to keep from pissing yourself. billie was laughing too, hunched over just like you were, with her eyes screwed shut as she tried to control her breathing. when you had calmed down a bit, you both stood up. she turned off the mixer and looked at you. you tried to stop from smiling as you looked at her flour-covered face.

“you got a little something right there,” you giggled, pointing at her face and stepping closer.

“oh really? where?” she said, a smirk on her face as she moved closer herself. now standing almost toe-to-toe, you reached your hand up to her face, wiping some of the flour off.

“right here,” you joked.

your eyes had been trained on the spot you were cleaning, which was right by her lips, but you could feel her looking at you. your eyes travelled up slowly before they locked with hers. she was still smiling, but it was different, one you had seen before, but never directed at you. her eyes fell to your own lips, and that was enough for you to lean forward, closing the gap. you kissed her softly at first, but it quickly got more heated. your back was against the counter and you jumped up to sit on it, not caring about the flour and other ingredients you had spilt on it earlier. she stood between your legs, her hands resting on your ass as she held you close. when you finally parted, she moved down, leaving kisses down your jaw and neck until she reached your collarbones. there she began to leave small hickies. your head was thrown back in pleasure and the two of you were in your own little world, nothing could interrupt you, or so you thought. minutes later, a loud timer buzzed through billie’s speaker, causing the two of you to jump apart.

“fuck,” she groaned, running a hand through her hair after shutting it off.

the two of you had forgotten everything about the party, about the fact that you’d set a timer to check the rain.

“well, i guess it stopped raining,” you said, hopping off the counter.

“i guess,” you said back.

“we should get going then,” she said, but her voice lacked conviction.

“my dress is all dirty,” you slurred, turning to try and look at your flour-covered ass.

“aww,” she fake-whined, a smile on her face as she shamelessly stared at your figure from behind.

“i guess if you really wanted to go i could borrow something from you,” you insisted.

“no no, your dress is dirty. you bought it for this party, you can’t go without it,” she said, stepping closer and resting her hand on your waist.

you leaned forward, tucking her hair behind her ear. you could only blame the alcohol for the confidence it gave you to say what you said next.

“i didn’t buy it for the party,” you whispered, “i bought it for you.”

you leaned back, looking at billie as her eyes lit up in excitement. you could see how she craved you in her eyes. you placed a kiss on her lips again before taking off towards her bedroom. she ran after you, slapping your ass as you ran up the stairs. it was safe to say that by the end of the night your party (and cookie dough) were forgotten.

#billie eilish x reader #billie eilish #billie eilish imagine #billie eilish x y/n #billie eilish fluff #billie eilish x you #wlw

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ode-to-fury · 1 month

Text

By Firelight

Pairing: Gale/Tav (pre relationship denial)

Summary: Gale can’t sleep, and he’s not… happy about Tav being up, but he’s not not happy about it. (I.e. I was trying to practice my showing not telling and I actually quite liked it)

Gale turned over for the upteenth time before huffing out a frustrated breath. Damn his godsforsaken back to the hells. No matter the position he attempted to lie in, something hurt. His bedroll was hardly a bulwark against the cold, hard, frankly unfathomably rocky ground.

He knew in reality it was the orb. It was always the orb. The artifact that Tav had given him had helped. Slightly. Not enough.

His ears were still ringing faintly, and if he lay still too long it felt as though he spun through the space behind his eyes, which reminded him far too much of nights as an apprentice after the Yawning Portal. The muscle spasms hadn’t quite started yet, but they would. He was all too aware they would. His cure was no cure anymore, and it worried him. Greatly.

To add insult to injury, he was perfectly aware he could probably conjure himself a comfortable featherbed.

He was also perfectly aware that such an act would expose him to enthusiastic and earnest ridicule from the rest of their merry little band.

He huffed once more, and decided he would give up for the night and try and read for a while. He grabbed the first book he could find in the darkness of his tent and crawled out through the flap.

It was a dark night tonight. The moon was only a small sliver amongst the stars, and occasional clouds obscured even that faint light.

The fire was crackling merrily, and Tav sat with her back to the stone in the middle of their camp, staring at the dancing flames. There was the small line of a frown between her brows, and Scratch lay with his head pillowed on her lap, her fingers absently scratching behind one upright ear.

He cleared his throat so he wouldn’t startle her, and her grey eyes flicked to him, then back at the fire.

“I was under the impression you’d already taken your watch earlier this evening,” he said.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she replied shortly. “Thought I’d let Wyll get some more rest instead of both of us being awake.”

“Very prudent of you.”

He groaned as he sat down next to her, leaning back against the rock. It was cool, which was soothing against the aching in his back.

She glanced sideways at him, then back at the flames. From here, he could only see one corner of her mouth, a faint scar trailing along her jaw. He found himself wondering how she’d gotten it. Scratch reached out his nose to sniff at Gale’s hand, then, when he had determined there was no immediate threat, returned to being pampered.

He was glad, selfishly, that she had told Wyll to go back to sleep. He… he enjoyed her company. Was glad of it tonight. It seemed to him, no matter how bleak their circumstances appeared to be, when she grinned her crooked grin, that everything would end up perfectly fine.

“What book?” She asked after a while. Gale started slightly, realizing he’d been sitting there with the book unopened for too long.

He cleared his throat.

“A treatise on the crafting of magic shields and the various attributes of each different type,” he said. “I found it in that ruined temple we explored, though I haven’t yet found the time to study it. Of course, there are quite a few thoughts in the school of abjuration on various magic shields and their uses, and then you have the regional differences, I mean- if you’ve ever read a text originating from Amn and the wizards there you’ll find they approach the entire concept differently from even the beginning of spellcasting when compared to here or even Calimshan. Though the Calishite school again has other ideas on the concept but the point I was trying to make is how region and even regional ways of thinking can influence- “

He stopped when he realised she was looking at him with a small smile on her face.

“What?” He asked.

“I don’t know,” she said, jerking her head toward the fire. “I- I suppose I always thought a shield was a shield.”

He laughed.

“Believe me," he said, grinning, “Many an apprentice thought the same thing before our first abjuration lesson at Blackstaff.”

She looked over at him, frowning, then shook her head.

“You’ve never had any instruction?” He asked.

“Would it make a difference?” She asked sharply.

He held up his hands in a placating gesture.

“A simple question. In fact, I think it’s very impressive you’ve managed so much with no education, especially given the volatile nature of your magic. There was one sorcerer in my class at Blackstaff, but he was of a draconic line, and to my understanding their magic is much less erratic than some other origins’.”

She was still frowning at him.

“Sometimes,” she said slowly, “I can’t tell whether you’re giving me a compliment or not.”

He winced.

“I assure you,” he said, somewhat apologetically, “It was intended as one.”

He tried for a sheepish smile.

“I’m afraid I’m out of practice.”

One of her eyebrows lifted.

“At compliments?”

“Partly.”

He realised they were moving into dangerous territory, and if she asked any further questions he would not have answers for her. He- he didn’t want to tell her about the orb, or Mystra. Asking for artefacts had already somewhat broken her trust in him.

It was… nice. To have a friend. Besides Tara, of course. Though Tav was much less of a nursemaid than Tara was. Between the two of them he’d never be short on scathing remarks, however. Or stubbornness. For the time being, he would pretend as though he was not a shell of his former self, merely until he had found a different way of sating his arcane hunger. Then he would cease being a burden or a liabillity to her and the others.

“I’ve had… some instruction,” she said, snapping him back tot he present. “Over the years, whenever I liked a spell someone cast, or needed to learn something for survival. Other things just happened naturally, like throwing up a shield the first time an arrow came firing at me.”

He watched as firelight flickered across her face. Her nose was turned upward, and he found himself tracing the slope of it with his eyes.

“And summoning a cow to drop from the sky?”

She tried and failed to hide a grin as she shot him a look. A deep dimple appeared in her cheek. He’d never met anyone with dimples before her. Such an endearingly human imperfection.

“That doesn’t count,” she said. “I didn’t do that on purpose.”

He shook his head.

“It took me two months to work out how to summon a tressym,” he said.

“In this world, Gale, there are people with talent,” she lay a hand on her chest, “And people without.”

She looked at him pointedly, and he burst into laughter.

Again, she watched him with that small smile, and he found himself returning it.

“If it makes you feel any better, my father was livid.”

He shrugged.

“My mother was not much better, but she forgave me eventually, I suppose. And let me keep the tressym.”

She snorted softly.

“Good for you.” Her gaze returned to the flames, and he realised he might have touched on a sensitive subject.

“You still owe me the rest of that story, you know,” he nudged her arm with his elbow, regretted it immediately when she tensed.

“You still owe me that drink to go with it,” she said. He did not miss that she moved away from him slightly.

“I could, ah, read to you,” he found himself saying, if only diffuse the tension he had just created. “If you wish. Though the book may be out of date by several decades, if not centuries, based on the penmanship alone.”

She grimaced, looking over at the book he held as though she was looking at a particularly unpleasant bug.

“A treatise? On magic shields?” She asked.

“Forgive me,” he said, feigning understanding, “I could also explain some of the more foreign concepts, as your lack of education would be a hindrance.”

She rolled her eyes at him, and only the faintest shadow of a dimple showed in her cheek.

“I normally prefer different books.”

“Different?”

“More interesting?”

“More interesting than an ancient academic treatise on shields?” He asked in mock outrage.

She rolled her eyes at him.

“I like adventure stories,” she said finally. “You know, where the valiant prince rescues the maiden in distress, or vanquishes a dragon, or two young lovers have to stand up to their families.”

He grinned.

“You didn’t strike me as the type.”

“No?”

“No. You seem far too cynical to be caught up in any adventures that are not your own.”

“Well,” she said, shrugging, “Looks can be decieving.”

Her eyes twinkled with mischief as she looked at him, just for a second, and a dimple showed again as she gave him another crooked grin. So different from the cynical adventurer he had met but a week ago.

“I suppose they can be,” he said softly, and found that he was grinning back at her again.

She looked back at the fire, and Gale cleared his throat slightly, feeling suddenly as though he shouldn’t be looking at her at all.

“You can read to me,” she said. “If you’d like. Believe it or not, I like learning. About magic especially.”

She shrugged.

“If anything it will make the time go more quickly.”

So Gale did.

And later, just before dawn, when her head drooped onto his shoulder he told himself he didn’t think much of it, and that she was simply tired.

He let her sleep, however, without complaint, savouring the first friendly touch he’d felt since she’d pulled him from that rock, and realised that he had forgotten to worry about the orb since the moment he’d set eyes on her.

#he’s PINING your honour #but he’s also in denial #sorry i can’t write smut so you guys can have this #scratch is just there and gale might be a little jealous but of course he’s not thts ridiculous #gale:talking about calishite magic shields #tav:heart eyes #gale dekarios #bg3 #bg3 gale #wildweave #gale of waterdeep #gale/tav #gale fic #gale dekarios fanfiction #bg3 fanfic

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therealcocoshady · 1 month

Text

Recovery - Chapter 33

Eminem x FemReader Fanfiction

Summary : Reader finally moves to Detroit with Marshall and gets used to living with him and getting to know him even better. She is on cloud nine... Until she learns she's going to meet someone special.

Tags : Fluff - Smut - Bit of angst

Author's Note : I hope you enjoy the chapter ❤️

Y/N’s POV

After you finally landed in Detroit, you spent almost two days sleeping, trying to fight the jetlag. Marshall seemed to be dealing with it pretty well, probably because he was so used to traveling. You, on the other hand, were really suffering from it and it wasn’t only affecting your sleep schedule, on the rare occasions you were awake, you also had trouble focusing, which did not help you get reacquainted with the house. You didn’t think you would have much trouble settling in, since you had spent so much time there before moving back to Paris, but actually moving in with your boyfriend was a bit different : you had to learn where everything was located and you got familiar with Marshall’s quirky ways, like how he organized the pantry and his weird tidying up habits, that were really different from yours. Also, you hadn’t really thought about the fact that you might feel ill-at-ease in the house, but it was definitely the case. Your boyfriend was incredibly welcoming and made a point of saying that it was your house too, but it didn’t feel like it. Every piece of furniture reminded you of the fact that he had lived there for about twenty years and had lived a full life in it before you were in the picture. You weren’t jealous per se, but it felt weird, like you were starting from scratch and he was already on level 20. So far, the corner you managed to claim as yours was the bedroom, probably because you spent so much time sleeping and fighting off jet lag. On the third day, though, you managed to wake up at a decent time and found Marshall training in the home gym. The sight of him bare chested and all sweaty doing some push ups was definitely a nice way to start your day.

Hey sleeping beauty, he said as he got up to kiss you. Didn’t expect to see you awake until a couple of hours at least.

I think I’m starting to run on american time again, you giggled. You know, if I had known I’d see this in the morning, I would have fought the jet lag harder…

Just got back to it today, he chuckled. Gotta start training back, after all that pasta in Italy. You don’t want me to get all chubby, now, do you ?

I wouldn’t mind, you said as you ran your hand over his stomach. The more of you the better.

How about you help me shower ? He asked with a smirk. You’ll get to see more of me.

Are you really propositioning me this early in the morning, Marshall ?

Haven’t seen much of you for three days, you know, he chuckled.

Now I wonder how you managed for six months, you giggled.

Not going to lie, it was hard. Pun intended. Are you coming or what ?

Actually, your man having his way with you in every room and against every single piece of furniture did a great job helping you feel at home in the house. In the following days, you spent a lot of time doing each other but not getting much else done. After a while, though, you decided to finally unpack the few things you had taken with you. To be fair, it wouldn’t take too long and your things would not take much space either, seeing as you only had the bare essentials. You might as well start a blog on minimalism, at this rate. At least, you wouldn’t spend too much time choosing what to wear, your options being somewhat limited.

Last chance to reconsider this whole me moving in thing, you said playfully as you opened your suitcase.

Not a chance, he chuckled before kissing your cheek.

Do you think you can spare a drawer in your closet for my stuff ? You asked.

No need, he shrugged. You can have a whole closet. The house came with his and hers.

Fancy, you giggled. Although, I would have thought your centipede ass would have taken over the second one for your sneakers…

I did, he chuckled. But I freed up the space the day after we arrived, while you were sleeping like a baby.

You’re the best. Although we can definitely share the space, I literally only need a drawer, you said as you pointed to your suitcase.

I guess you’re going to have to shop, he said with a smile.

I will, when I have a job, you said.

Why wait ? He asked.

Money, you shrugged.

He rolled his eyes and handed you his credit card. You looked at him without taking it, waiting for him to put it back in his pocket. He stared back, not moving. It was like a silent argument. He had told you before that he was intent on taking care of you in every way possible, but you had your pride and there was no way in hell that you would shop with his hard earned money. You were already moving into his giant house, coming back from an expensive holiday in Europe that he had paid for, wearing a watch and a bracelet that, combined, probably cost more than what you had made in the past year.

Just take it, he finally said.

Put that back, you said. I can wait.

You barely have enough clothes to go through a washing cycle, he pointed out.

I’ll just borrow yours, then, you playfully retorted. Or walk around naked. But I am not taking advantage of your money.

I kind of like the idea of having you walk around the house naked, he replied with a smirk. And you know I love it when you wear my stuff. But seriously, you don’t have to be so noble. It’s no big deal.

I’m not a kept woman. And there is no way I will act like a trophy girlfriend and have you pay for my stuff. All of this is already too much, you said as you gestured around you.

Technically, it would benefit me too, you know ? He pointed out. I like undressing you. Let’s not underestimate the importance of wrapping paper around the present…

And what would the ideal wrapping paper look like ? You asked.

Lingerie, obviously, he giggled. I like the lacy stuff. Can I confess something ?

Go ahead, you chuckled.

You know, the black lace bodysuit you wore in the picture that leaked last year ? He asked. It drove me absolutely crazy. I deleted the picture, out of respect for you, but I’d be lying if I said it hasn’t been in a few dreams of mine.

Oh really ? You asked playfully. Too bad I don’t have it anymore.

You have no idea what I would do to you if I saw you wear this thing, he said.

I’ll put it on my list, then, you said with a wink.

Or you could buy it right now, he said as he waved his card in front of your face. As a congratulation present for the album’s success ? Or early Christmas ? And let’s not forget that Thanksgiving is just around the corner, so, really…

You couldn’t help but giggle. He reminded you of a kid asking their parents for a new video game. He was making puppy eyes at you, batting his eyelashes and whispering “please, please, please ?”. You rolled your eyes and ended up caving in. “Fine, you said. Only lingerie, though.”, you mumbled. Without a second of hesitation, he grabbed your iPad. For someone who often played dumb when it came to technology, he was incredibly proficient. In a couple of seconds, he had ten tabs open on various lingerie websites. He had a fancy taste in lingerie and definitely had a lot of ideas on what he would like you to wear, leading you to think he had given it some thought for a while. What initially started in a search for one lacy black bodysuit ended up in Marshall adding tons of things to the cart because “shipping is an ecological disaster so you might as well make the most of it”. At some point, you were sure that there were less items in a full Victoria’s Secret fashion show and you hoped for his sake that he had invested in Agent Provocateur, because the bill was going up insanely fast, with each click. He seemed like a kid in a candy store and was absolutely unstoppable.

Babe, I don’t think I need a bodychain that looks like a butterfly, you pointed out with a giggle.

I like accessories, he chuckled.

They do have beautiful things, you admitted. Like, those rose gold rope handcuffs…

You’re into that ? He asked with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

No, you said shyly. I mean, yes, but… well…

No need to blush, he said. I’m adding these to the cart. Just in case… Oh, look, they have a matching choker.

When you thought you were done, once the order was placed, he started arguing that you would need at least one pair of heels to go with it, just to complete the look and you didn’t even have time to answer before he started browsing Louboutin’s website. At that point, trying to reason with him was a lost cause. Plus, if you were honest, he did have good taste.

You realize you just spent the equivalent of the gross domestic product of some countries, simply on stuff you want to ravish me in, right ? You pointed out.

As a businessman, I’d say it’s an investment, he said with a smirk.

As a rational person, I’m tempted to ask how this little investment would bring some actual profit, you giggled.

That’s actually really simple, he said. That’s an investment in our relationship, which is important to my work-life balance, hence my creativity.

Almost a fair point, you conceded.

Plus, I think I could base a whole album on your body and all the things I’m doing to you once we receive that package, he chuckled. So if it goes well, it might pay for our next vacation…

I swear to God, Marshall, if I hear one reference to our sex life in a song…

One ? He said with a grin. Babe, it’ll be at least four or five…

I’m serious, you said sternly.

We’ll see, he replied with a wink.

You thoroughly enjoyed having Marshall with you while you got used to the house. It was a far cry from your fancy holidays in Europe. Of course, discovering cities, eating at restaurants and staying at luxury hotels was nice, but this felt more real, more domestic. You also liked the fact that, in spite of his obvious wealth, the house had an actual family feel to it, far from what a lot of real people showcased on Instagram or Architectural Digest videos. The place was actually lived in, filled with memories and it had a nice vibe to it. Most people probably wouldn’t expect one of the world’s most famous rappers to live in a place like this, but once you got to know Marshall, it sort of made sense. The house was secluded and located in a gated community - for obvious reasons - and it was impressive in size, for sure, but it wasn’t flashy by any means. The furniture was all about quality but unassuming, with a nice cozy feel to it, with comfortable chairs and sofas, as well as spaces designed to have people over and entertain. The perfect nook for someone who actually spent a lot of time at home. You had never thought you’d live in such a place but you were happy you ended up here. Not that it mattered too much anyway, since you were sure you could be happy anywhere as long as you had Marshall by your side. After a few days, it was time for your boyfriend to go back to work and you’d be left alone in the house for the first time. The night before, as you were laying in bed, the two of you were talking about his upcoming projects. Now that he was no longer in album recording mode, it would change a tad from what you had witnessed. He would spend as much time « in the lab », as he put it, but he would have more people over and prioritize his work as a producer for a bit. He seemed genuinely excited to go back to work, especially since he hadn’t indulged in such a long break in almost a decade.

Three weeks off is rare for me, he chuckled. My team almost freaked out when I told them I needed this much time off, at first.

Why did you, by the way ? You asked.

I figured I would need a lot of rest after the tour, he explained. It was a short one but it was intense and, since I don’t perform as much as I used to, it’s harder on the body. Plus, I was still very much heartbroken over a certain someone…

I’m sorry, you said sheepishly.

Don’t be. All is well in the end, right ? I got my much-needed break, I have the most amazing woman back in my arms, we got to travel together and you even moved in ! I wouldn’t have it any other way, he said as he looked at you lovingly.

They’re going to have you back in a good mood, you giggled.

I’m pretty sure I’ll turn back into my usual bitchy self as soon as I get back, he chuckled. Doesn’t help that we’re starting with a full day of meetings, too…

What meetings ? You asked, feeling curious.

Bunch of them, he shrugged. One to plan the next months ahead, review the collaboration requests we’ve got, one about potential performance dates, a meeting with a journalist for an interview… oh and another one with Tracy.

As soon as you heard her name leave his lips, you couldn’t help but grimace, which did not escape his notice. He chuckled and kissed your forehead. Since you had gone on vacation, you hadn’t mentioned her. To be fair, you were so busy that you had momentarily forgotten about her existence - which was not the worst thing. The mere mention of her was enough to make you groan and you had to put in a lot of effort not to have a mental image of her kissing your boyfriend the very day before you got back with him. Obviously, neither she nor Marshall had medium powers so they couldn’t have planned that you’d get back together but still… it irked you. You did not want that woman anywhere near Marshall. Especially since he had told you she had confessed to hoping they would get back together. He had given her a few weeks to sort her feelings out and decide on whether or not they would keep on working together, leaving the choice up to her. Your boyfriend was definitely a class act and a gentleman. Now, you secretly hoped she would quit. A shameful feeling you would never confess to having, of course.

Stop clenching your jaw like that, it’s bad for you, Marshall chuckled as he traced your jaw with his fingers.

I’m not clenching, you groaned.

You totally are, he said with a smile. You still hate her don’t you ?

Me ? Hate her ? You asked. I don’t hate her. Do I like her ? No. Do I hope she stubs her toe on some piece of furniture every morning for the rest of her life ? Maybe. But I don’t hate her.

You’re so petty, he chortled. It’s hilarious.

You mean pretty, right ?

I said what I said, he chuckled as he kissed your temple. You know you don’t have anything to worry about, though, right ?

I know, you said. I just have to shake the feeling. It’ll pass.

I hope so, he replied. If she keeps on working as my personal assistant, you might run into her from time to time. I don’t want it to be weird.

I can be civil, you assured him. As long as she keeps her hands off you.

Territorial, much ? He teased you.

You’re mine, you said.

Yours, he said with a nod before kissing you tenderly.

You settled in his arms as he turned off the lights and you put a hand over his perfect chest before drifting off to sleep. When you woke up the next day, he was already gone. You found a sweet note on your nightstand, telling you to enjoy having the house to yourself and that he would come home at 5:30PM. You missed him already but decided to make the most of your first day with some intensive self care. It was Monday so Talia was at work, otherwise you would have told her to come over for a girls day. Still, being on your own wasn’t going to prevent you from pampering yourself and trying to be pretty for your man when he would come back from work. You started with a bath, taking some time to do a full body scrub, some hair care and a face mask. One of the many perks of the house was the bathroom adjacent to the master bedroom, which was basically like a home spa. You could definitely get used to this life… you were getting dressed when the doorbell rang. It felt weird answering the door, but it was your new home after all. It was actually the delivery of your package from Agent Provocateur, and it was a huge one. As soon as you got it, you brought it to your closet and started unboxing. You had always liked lingerie but so far the most expensive stuff you had ever bought was probably from Victoria’s Secret or Princess Tam Tam, as well as a few Aubade pieces (on sale). This was different. It felt insanely sexy and luxurious and, to be honest, you weren’t too sure you deserved to be wearing such garments. Still, now that all this stuff was in your closet, you might as well wear it, so you decided to try it on. You were unsure whether it was the expensive fabrics and accessories adorning your body or your extensive pampering session from earlier, but you were absolutely feeling yourself. As you examined yourself in the mirror, you couldn’t help but think you looked great, which was quite a feat. Ever since you had lost weight, you had had trouble appreciating your body. You had always been on the curvier side and you had learned to love your body like this. So liking a skinnier version of your body was a bit hard. Still, the lingerie worked wonders. You tried on a few pieces and wished Marshall could be there to see it, sure that he would gladly enjoy the view, rather than being stuck in meetings with Paul, Tracy and God knows who else… That's when you had an idea : you might as well show him what was waiting for him at home when he would get back. Plus, it would also serve as a reminder that he might have a personal assistant, but you were the woman who was deserving of his attention. You didn’t actually worry about him being unfaithful, you fully trusted him, but you still had your doubts about whether or not Tracy would try and flirt with him. You barely knew the woman after all. As you tried on lingerie set after lingerie set, you snapped a few pictures and ended up having a little fun photo shoot. God bless good iPhone cameras, mirrors and timers. With a bit of color editing, the pictures looked even better. You sent one to Marshall, with the caption : « Good luck for your meetings. Miss you already. Can’t wait for you to be home ❤️ ». Within a few minutes, he answered.

From M❤️ : Can’t wait to be home either. Better not be wearing anything else when I get back.

You chuckled and decided to tease him a little more, with pictures of other sets. You were curious to know what his favorite one was. There were so many options, from cute and simple bras with matching panties to more intricate things with corsets or garter belts…

From M❤️ : Got told off by Paul for not paying attention. You’re getting me in trouble…

To M❤️ : oops. Sorry for distracting you, my love. I’ll go and put some ugly sweats right away 👀

From M❤️ : don’t you dare.

You giggled and carried on with your little picture-taking, sending him the best ones. He didn’t reply much, but at least you knew he enjoyed it. It was the middle of the afternoon and you were casually chilling in the bedroom, in your finest lingerie with music playing loud on a portable speaker you had found in the living room. Not too bad for a Monday. You had just taken a cute selfie and we’re trying to edit it when you felt a presence. Before you could turn and check, you felt a hand firmly grasping your waist. You let out a scream of terror before another hand covered your mouth and you heard a giggle in your ear. It was Marshall. You immediately relaxed and turned to face him.

You scared me ! You whined.

I yelled at you but your music was too loud, he said with a grin before turning off the speaker.

I thought I was being attacked, for a second !

Babe, it’s a gated community with security and cameras everywhere, you’re safe, he chuckled. Believe me, if my paranoid ass feels safe, it is safe.

You giggled and kissed him before checking the time on your phone. It was 3:45PM. You looked at him in disbelief. You definitely didn’t expect him home this early, not that you were going to complain.

Aren’t you supposed to be at work ? You asked.

Called off the last two meetings, he said with a smile. If anyone asks, I’m feeling under the weather. Couldn’t focus anyway. I wonder why that is…

Oops, you said as you blushed a bit. Am I in trouble ?

Depends, he chuckled. Do I get to see more pictures ?

You really suck at negotiating, you giggled. You could ask for a runway show and all you want are lousy pics ?

He smiled and firmly grabbed your waist to pull you in for a deep kiss. His hands wandered around your body as your tongues found each other.

You look incredible, he complimented. Your pictures drove me crazy.

Glad to know there’s a way to get you to get back early, you said teasingly. I’ll remember that.

I’ll be in trouble if that happens too much, he chuckled. But please feel free to send more of these pics…

He pulled you closer and you could feel him being rock hard through his jeans. Knowing you were the cause gave you quite the ego boost and you felt quite proud. You kissed him and ran your hands on his chest. Even when he was wearing a tee-shirt, you could see the outline of his pecs and it was enough to drive you crazy. You gently squeezed one pec and he leaned into your touch while one of his hands cupped your butt cheek.

So… do I get my runway show ? He asked with a smirk.

Only because I’m a good girl and I don’t want to get in trouble, you said with a wink.

You proceeded to try on a few of the items you hadn’t tried yet. The first was a black bodysuit with a lace up back, which wasn’t showing much but was giving glamorous vibes. The second was an opulent set with black lace and dainty chains, completed with a black waspie. As soon as he saw you, Marshall’s eyes widened. His mouth was slightly agape while he was staring.

Do you like it ? You asked with a smile.

You’re perfect, he said. These were fucking made for you. I think that’s my favorite set right here.

Is it ? You asked teasingly. I should take a pic, so that I can send it to you next time you’re in a meeting… so you can remember me.

I’ll take it for you, he said with a smirk as he grabbed your phone.

You got on the bed and posed for him as he smiled and tried to take a decent shot, trying different angles. You teased him and bit your lip while you ran your hands over your breast, gently pinching your nipples through the fabric.

You’re so hot, he groaned. I swear I could film you…

You can do it, you said flirtingly.

Are you serious ? He asked with a raised eyebrow.

Sure, why not, you nodded as you kept on stroking your breast and caressing the rest of your own body, teasing him with your eyes.

His blue eyes were devouring you and you absolutely loved it. His look was one of pure adoration, mixed with desire. This prompted you to put on a little show for him. You sat at the edge of the bed and started touching yourself on top of the lacy underwear that was covering you. Your fingers circled your clit and you could feel just how wet you were, simply from knowing how aroused Marshall was. You kept on looking him in the eyes as you pleasured yourself. He was still holding the phone, staring at you, while his free hand was mindlessly palming his crotch. You looked at him with a devilish grin and walked to him before dropping on your knees.

What are y-? He began asking.

Shhhh. Just keep filming and enjoy, you said with a smirk.

You unbuckled his belt and managed to get him out of his pants and boxers. You stroked his erection, your touch making him sigh in pleasure. Precum was already dripping from the tip and you couldn’t resist licking it, gently teasing the head of his cock with your tongue as you kept on stroking him. His hand that wasn’t holding the phone went to the back of your head, gently encouraging you to keep going and you took that as you cue to start sucking, which caused him to moan and slur a few obscenities. You weren’t sure if it was the camera pointed at you, his unusually vocal response or the lingerie that had you feeling so confident, but you loved it. You stared at him as you kept on sucking him, trying to take him in as much as you could. He started bucking his hips while praising you for taking him so well. You had a bit of a gag reflex but kept going until the tip of your nose was touching his pubes. Tears were welling in your eyes but you loved hearing him moan. It was music to your ears. His hips started thrusting faster as the hold he had on your head tightened. You weren’t sure you could keep going for long and, for the briefest of moments, you were almost scared that you were going to choke. He stopped and looked at you, phone still in hand.

Bed. All fours. Now, he said.

Yes sir, you giggled playfully before doing as he said.

Hold this for me, he said as he handed you the phone so that he could shed the rest of his clothes.

When he was completely naked, he grabbed a condom from the nightstand and put it on before taking the phone back as he pushed your thong aside and positioned himself at your entrance. You let out a gasp when he entered you and immediately started moving at a frantic pace. Unlike most of the time, he did not give you time to get used to his size but you did not really mind - you liked the roughness. His hand was firmly holding your hip, his fingers slightly digging in your skin. In this instant, you belonged to him and you were his to use as he pleased. He was pounding hard into you as you moaned his name, tears still rolling on your cheeks from trying to deepthroat a few minutes earlier.

Fuck it, he groaned.

You heard a “plop”, it was your phone being carelessly thrown onto the bed and bouncing God knows where. Marshall’s now free hand found your waist. He was now firmly holding you, thrusting like a piston.

I-I’m coming, you warned.

Yes baby, he groaned. Come for me.

You both exploded in an orgasm at the same time and Marshall collapsed onto you, letting out a small grunt as his head hit your shoulder. You stayed in the unlikely position for a couple of minutes, taking the opportunity to catch your breath. You were panting and you could feel his strong heartbeat in your back. You buried your face in the sheets and enjoyed the warmth of his breath on your skin.

You are fucking incredible, he said.

You too, you said. God, that was so intense.

Too much ? He asked.

Just enough, you said with a smile. Perfect. You know I like it a little rough.

You’re also a little kinky, he pointed out.

Maybe, you admitted with a giggle.

He placed a small kiss on your shoulder and changed position so that he could properly lay next to you. He looked at you with a soft smile and placed a strand of hair behind your ear. You couldn’t resist kissing him.

You are so hot, he said. I swear to God, I have never, ever been more turned on by anyone.

Really ? You grinned.

God, the pics, actually seeing you wear this, and then filming you ?! Babe, you are… wow, he said.

I guess I was feeling a little frisky today, you giggled.

I’ve noticed, he said with a grin. What got into you ?

I don’t know, you shrugged. I mean… the lingerie got me feeling all sexy and… I always wanted to try filming, so…

Really ? He asked.

I mean… yeah, I was curious, you admitted. What ? Do you think it’s weird ?

No, he shrugged. Not at all. You’re just a little kinkier than I thought, I guess. Not that I’m complaining.

I guess I am kinky, you said with a smile.

He let out a small laugh as he stretched and got rid of the condom before laying back on the bed.

What ? You asked, worrying that he might be making fun of you.

Nothing. It’s just kind of funny. I guess you don’t really come across as the kinky type, you know ? When I met you there was no way I would have thought you enjoyed being filmed and stuff.

Do I look that vanilla ?

Frankly ? Yes, he laughed. But hey, I love your kinky side too. It’s a pleasant surprise. Makes me wonder what else turns you on. I realize there’s a shit ton I don’t know about you.

It’s true, I haven’t been too daring in bed, so far, you admitted.

Why ? He asked. Didn’t you feel comfortable enough with me ?

It’s not that. I guess I wasn’t in the mood for kinky stuff at that particular time ? You tried to explain. I mean, getting to sleep with you is enough for me. I enjoy vanilla sex just as much.

He hummed in response, still staring at you. As if he was waiting for you to elaborate.

It’s true - we’ve been pretty vanilla so far, he said.

How about you ? You asked. Any kinks you want to tell me about ?

Hey. We were talking about yours. Don’t change the subject, he said.

Are you feeling uneasy ? You asked.

Maybe a little, he admitted.

We don’t have to have that conversation if you don’t want to, you said as you kissed his jaw.

Oh but I do want to have it, he said. I want to know about you. Go first and maybe I’ll tell you about me, he added with a grin.

Let’s see… I feel like that’s pretty basic you know ? I like it rough but I don’t know if it registers as a kink ? Maybe it does. I mean… I’ve never really got to take it as far as I want to, so, I don’t know, you said. I haven’t had too many partners, and I’ve never felt confident enough to try all the things I want to.

Really ?

Yeah. I mean, it takes a certain amount of comfort in a relationship, you said.

I guess, he admitted.

Plus, you know, I had my first boyfriend when I was 18, and he is the first person I ever slept with. It lasted about three years and we never tried anything crazy. Then there was Simon. We were together for a while but we didn’t explore much. It was mostly light spanking, hair-pulling, but that’s all. Then Josh, but we didn’t do much. And then… you.

How far did you go with Josh ?

Foreplay, you said.

He hummed, his eyes darkening.

What ? You asked, I answer, you said.

That motherfucker, Marshall commented.

You really hated him, didn’t you ? You asked.

Hate is a strong word, he said. But yeah, I wasn’t his biggest fan. He didn’t deserve you.

He was nice and caring, you pointed out. That’s more than a lot of dudes.

He was kind of stupid and he put you in danger, Marshall said flatly as he referred to the salsa bar incident that had led you to the hospital.

You know it wasn’t his fault, you said as you rolled your eyes. I think you’re being a bit jealous here.

Maybe I am, he admitted. I must say it was not the most fun time for me, when you dated him. I was trying hard not to be all over you, and he was the one who got to kiss you, take you on dates and everything.

You are the one who got the girl in the end, you reminded him, which caused him to smile.

The kinky girl, he added. Let’s not get lost here… I want to know stuff. So… slept with three people and that’s it ?

Well, no. I only dated three people before you. I did sleep with a couple more people though. Girls actually.

Oh I didn't know you liked girls, he said surprised.

Yeah, I’m bi. I never dated a girl though. They’re too impressive, you said with a laugh. Men are easier to get, I think.

Have you ever had a threesome ? He asked.

That’s on my « list » but no, never. I’d be into that, though, you admitted. Any type of threesome. Or more than that, who knows ? But yeah, I think it could be fun. And I wouldn’t want to die stupid and ignorant you know ?

Right, he chuckled. Though I must admit that in my opinion, it’s a bit overhyped.

You’ve had threesomes ?

A bunch of times, yeah, he shrugged. I mean, I get a lot of opportunities on tour. I’ve had threesomes, foursomes, moresomes…

You looked at him with curiosity. You figured that, given his age and occupation, he must have had a lot of experiences, but you didn’t really know how far he had taken it. You were kind of curious and there were a lot of questions you wanted to ask.

Did you enjoy it ? You asked.

I mean… Yeah, he said. That was a point in my life when I wanted to get all the pussy I could, so in that regard, that was fun. Though there’s something about the logistics. Threesomes are fine but when there’s more people or an actual orgy, there’s a lot going on at the same time so you can’t really focus, you know what I mean ? But yeah, that was exciting. I mean, I did get a lot of opportunities and propositions, a while ago.

I bet you still do, you said.

Not really, he chuckled. I mean, with the level of security that I have, it’s hard to get to me anyway so there’s not a lot of people who can actually proposition me, you know ? Back in the day, we were more lenient with security and letting people hang out with us after shows. But regardless, my interest in that is different.

You’re still a regular horndog, you giggled.

True, he said with a smile. But getting sober made a big difference when it comes to my approach to sex and intimacy in general.

I have so many questions, you said.

Me first, he reminded you.

Fine, you said as you rolled your eyes. What do you want to know ?

Mmmh… How rough do you mean, when you say you like it rough ? Marshall asked.

I don’t know, you said. I haven’t tested a lot of things yet, so I think I’d like to push my limits and test stuff. I wouldn’t necessarily want to get punched in the face, but being shoved against a wall, the ground and roughhousing ? Yes, absolutely.

Ok, he said with a nod as if he was making a mental note. What else ?

Let’s see… Well I wanted to try being filmed and we did that, so I guess we can cross that off my list…

You’d never done that before ? He asked.

Never.

He smiled at you with pride and his grin made you scoff. Male ego at its peak.

I wouldn’t say I’m into exhibition, but I wouldn’t mind trying stuff in public either, you added. I think the fear of getting caught can be really exciting. Other than that there’s… uh… submission.

Really ? He asked with a raised eyebrow.

Yeah, you confessed shyly. I think it’s really really hot when your partner takes control. Especially of you’re the partner.

You could feel the heat in your cheeks and you were pretty sure your face was crimson red at this point, but there was something about Marshall, his aura, his natural charisma, his voice that called to your submissive nature. It had never been the case with anyone else, only him.

Me ? He asked with a smirk.

Oh yeah, you admitted. When you get that deep voice… ? God…

You got lost in your thoughts for a second. The mere idea of Marshall domineering you was turning you on.

Keep going, he said. I want to know more.

I think that’s it, actually, you said with a smile. I mean, I haven’t done a lot of research either. I just want to explore stuff and have fun.

I guess we might be able to try some stuff together, if you’re up for it, he said before kissing you.

Really ? You asked in excitement.

Sure, he chuckled. I mean, I wouldn’t consider myself like much of a dominant, but if you wanted me to try, I might give it a go.

Ok, you said softly.

The idea of being able to explore sexuality and furthering your intimacy made you really happy. You had never felt so safe with any of your partners before. You trusted this man with all of your heart and soul.

What else would you be willing to try ? You asked giddily.

What was on the list again ? He asked.

Hum… Threesomes ? I mean, you’ve done it before so it wouldn’t be anything new to you, you said.

I don’t know about this one, he admitted.

Oh, ok, you said.

I mean, I’m not sure how I feel about sharing you, he explained. Given the right opportunity and person, it’s not a firm and definitive no, but… Yeah, I don’t know. But threesomes can be fun, for sure.

Ok, you agreed. That makes sense. But if it were to happen, like, hypothetically, you’d rather have it be with another woman, right ?

Absolutely, he said. I’m definitely straight and I understand that a woman might want to have two men with her but… No way I’m sharing you with another dude. Not happening. Sorry babe.

That’s fine, you giggled. Just testing the water here. So, when you had threesomes and all, it was just girls ?

Yep, he chuckled. My ex is bi so she would have girls over and that’s how it would happen, most of the time.

You were in an open marriage ? You asked.

Not really, he chuckled. Though there was so much cheating that it might as well have been an open marriage, I guess. Let’s just say I was more lenient if she hooked up with girls and especially if it could benefit me as well…

Ok, you said with a smile. My turn, now ?

Fire away, he said.

Are you sure you’re straight ? You asked cockily. Like, have you ever been with a man ?

I have, he said casually.

Really ?!

You were in shock. You definitely weren’t expecting that and your question was actually a joke. You didn’t have a problem with it, obviously, but seeing as he had been portrayed as homophobic in the past, you didn’t think he would have given it a try.

Can I ask questions about that ? You asked.

I guess, he shrugged. I mean, I don’t think I have really talked about it but I trust you so, yeah, go ahead. But there’s nothing to say, really.

When was it ?

Uh… Twenty years ago, I’d say ? He replied after taking some time to think. So, yeah, it was a while ago. When I performed with Elton John at the Grammys…

NOOOOOO ?! You almost yelled.

Your mouth was wide open and you were almost in shock. Had your boyfriend really slept with Elton John ?!?! He immediately burst into a fit of laughter, so much so that he was actually crying.

You should see your face, he said as he tried to catch his breath. Fuck, you’re so gullible, babe.

You’ve been leading me on, haven’t you ? You asked with a grin. You’ve never tried guys.

Oh no, that part was true, he chuckled. It happened after the Grammys but it wasn’t with Elton. He’s great, he’s a friend but it wasn’t him. I don’t think I remember the guy’s name though. In my defense, I was high.

So, what happened ? You asked. Hooked up with a guy and didn’t like it ?

Basically, yeah, he said. The guy looked good and I though “If I ever have to be attracted by a man, I think that would be someone like this”, so when he flirted and made a pass at me, I went for it. He was cool and an ok kisser, but the hookup was a disaster. If you can even call it that. I was fucking high but that sobered me up and I knew right then and there : straight. 1000%.

At least you know for sure, you giggled.

Exactly, he chuckled. Next question ?

Do you have any kinks ?

Not so many, he said. I’ve tried a lot of stuff, out of curiosity and for the sake of experience but I’m not into freaky, kinky stuff. I’m a simple man. But I suppose it depends on what you call a kink ?

I don’t even know, you giggled. I should have done my research if I had known I’d get to quiz you.

Find a list and I’ll tell you whether or not I’m into it, he shrugged.

You grabbed your phone and took the first list you found - there went the purity of your web browser.

Age play ? Like “daddy-dominant-little-girl” ?

Absolutely not. Being called daddy in bed is a huge turn-off. Maybe it’s a Dad thing, I don’t know. Not to kink-shame but I think it’s sort of twisted you know ? He said.

You have called me “babygirl” before though, you pointed out with a smile.

Yeah but I don’t see it in the same way. Probably a double-standard he admitted.

Let’s see… Bondage ? You asked.

I don’t mind it. It can be fun but not a necessity.

Blindfold sex ?

Hate it, he said. I love being able to look at my partner. I think I’m pretty visual when it comes to sex. As for blindfolding people… maybe. Once again, it can be fun once in a while.

So no blindfolding you, you noted. Cuckholding ?

Is that shit alphabetised ? He asked with a laugh. Cuckholding is a no for me. First, because I don’t do humiliation, secondly because I’m not big on sharing.

Yes it’s alphabetised, you smiled.

I do enjoy that. I know it’s not a kink but I like things in order.

Good to know, you chuckled. Claustrophilia ?

It depends. I’ve had sex in elevators, closets and airplane bathrooms, so I think it counts. You ?

Never thought of it but I’m not against it, you said with a wink.

Good to know. Glad I can easily get a jet for us to try that, too…

You chuckled once again. You liked learning more about him.

Dominance we have already talked about… how about DIY porn ? You asked. That’s the next item on the list.

Didn’t we just do that ? He asked back.

Yeah but how did you feel about it ?

It was fun. I’m not even sure I did a great job with the filming though. But I guess it’ll be fun to have the video as a memory if i’m ever away from you and horny, he stated.

Electrostimulation ?

Nope.

Erotic Asphyxiation ?

They could have put that in the B section under “Breathplay” he commented. I don’t really like being choked but if you want me to do it to you, sure. Safely, of course.

Both his alphabetical comment and the statement made you smile.

Foot fetish ?

Nope. A girl asked me to try that once but I didn’t like it.

Food play ?

It can be fun but I’m not big on it. Next ?

Gagging ?

Not for me, no. You ?

No thanks, you said. I don’t really mind if I gag a little during a blowjob, though. But not voluntarily.

I do like the idea of making you gag with my cock, he confessed with a little grin. Next ?

Gerontophilia ?

Nothing against the elderly but that’s not a kink for me, he said. But I’m sure I’ll find you sexy as fuck when you’re an old lady though.

Thanks, you laughed. We’ve covered humiliation already… how about impact play ? Like hitting ?

I don’t really want to be hit or spanked, he said. You ?

I think I’d like to try, you said. I’ve been spanked before but I’d gladly try more.

As long as I’m not physically hurting you…, he said.

You could see a hint of sadness in his eyes.

Are you alright ? You asked immediately.

Yeah, no, I’m good, he said dryly. I just… well we might as well talk about it…

What’s wrong ? We can stop this conversation if you’re not ok, baby, you said.

It’s fine, he said. It’s just… in the past, Kim and I got physical a couple of times. I mean, you probably know about that, because of the media and I’ve written songs about it. It’s never been to a point where I was actually beating her down, but we’ve definitely hit each other a number of times. But thinking about that… it’s hard because it’s one of the worst mistakes I’ve ever made, you know ? That’s not the person I want to be.

That’s not the person you are either, you said softly. You wouldn’t hurt a fly.

I’d rather kill myself than hurt you, he stated in all seriousness.

You looked at him and his stern expression. You gently stroked his hand.

I trust you and I know you’ll never hurt me, you said.

You don’t think I’m an asshole who deserves hell for what I’ve done ? He asked pensively.

I don’t. I mean, I’ll never condone domestic violence and if you ever lay a hand on me in circumstances that aren’t sexual, I’ll leave, that’s for sure. I’ll never say it’s ok that you hit your ex, but it’s also in the past and I know you have changed. So I trust you and I don’t think you deserve to suffer. I can see on your face that you suffer enough from the memories.

I deserve to, he said sternly.

Sorry, you said. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have brought up impact play. If it triggers you, we’ll never try it.

If you want to try, maybe we can keep it on the soft side, he said. But yeah… I don’t think I’d be ready to really hit you too hard. Even if you begged for it.

We can stop the list there, if you want, you said. I mean… I love talking about that with you but I’d be happy to just cuddle and go to bed, you know ?

Nah, it’s good. Keep the list going. I like learning stuff about you, he said with a smile.

Ok, so… interrogation play ?

Not really.

Japanese bondage like shibari ?

Not my stuff either. I get the hype but it’s too intricate and I don’t have time for that shit, he said with a grin. It’s really sexy to see though.

Klismaphilia ? You asked.

What the fuck even is that ? He asked laughingly.

It’s Greek and it means… oh… it’s enemas.

Ah. Then no. Absolutely not, he said.

Me neither. How about Katoptronophilia ? It’s masturbating in front of a mirror.

Nope.

How about masochism ? You asked.

Down to M already ? No, I'm not a masochist.

Reading the description I might be into that, you commented. It’s enjoying pain so… maybe I’m a bit of a masochist after all, you shrugged.

Yeah ? Well as I said… as long as I don’t mistreat you… I guess I can pull your hair and spank you gently, he said with a smile.

Sounds fine, you said with a smile. Next on the list is… Melolagnia, you added with a grin. I think I’ve just discovered a new kink of mine.

What is that ?

I’ll read it to you : “ Melolagnia is a fetish that involves being turned on by music. This doesn’t simply mean having a go-to Spotify playlist when you have sex, but rather experiencing strong sexual reactions in response to music and also fantasizing about certain songs or genres. The arousal can derive from a combination of the musical elements including the singer’s voice, beat, repetition, or even the quality of the composition, all of which can lead to physical sensations like goosebumps, a faster heartbeat, or even more natural sexual lubrication.” You quoted.

Oh wow. Didn’t know that existed, he said. But yeah music turns me on. You ?

Oh, definitely, you said blushing and attempting to hide your face.

Why are you suddenly so red and looking away ? He asked with a grin. Any songs I should know about ?

Shut up, you muttered.

Come on, Y/N. Tell me.

No. You’ll never let me live it down, you said.

As long as it’s not MGK, that should be fine, he joked.

Come on…

Tell me ! What ? Is it an artist I’ve had beef with ? Mariah ? Christina Aguilera ? Ja Rule ? Please don’t say Ja Rule…

I’m not having this conversation, you said, embarrassed.

Now that I know you like domination, I can make you talk, woman, he said as he put a finger underneath your chin.

You wouldn’t, you mumbled.

Try me.

Your eyes met his. He stared at you.

Tell me, he said in his deep, authoritarian voice.

“Not fair”, you thought, definitely turned on but unable to speak.

Do I know them ?

You nodded.

Is it a friend of mine ? Dre ? 50 ? He asked as you were unable to make a sound. Then who ? Tell. Me.

There went the voice again.

It’s… you.

You spoke so softly, hoping he wouldn’t catch it. Unfortunately for you, he did.

Ah, he said with a grin, trying not to laugh.

Don’t judge me, you muttered.

Well it depends… is there a song in particular ? He asked softly.

Do we have to have this conversation ? You asked as you rolled your eyes.

Come on babe, it’s fun. And it’s flattering. I’m glad you think my music can be sexy.

Marshaaaaall…

Please ?

He was looking at you with adorable puppy eyes.

Fine, you grumbled. Superman. And Heat, too. You happy ?

You hid your face in your hands in embarrassment. You heard him scoff and he gently kissed your shoulder.

Come on, it’s fine. It’s not as if you had said FACK, you know ? Then I probably would have laughed in your face. But Superman… ? I sort of get it. I mean, it’s kind of the intention we had when we recorded. Heat too. I mean, it’s in the title. So it’s fine, babe.

You don’t think I’m a weird groupie ? You asked.

Of course not. I think you’re the cutest thing ever, right now. And I can definitely sing those for you sometime, he said with a grin. Let’s just not play one of my albums while we fuck, ok ? I’m not that much of an egomaniac.

Mmmh.

Let’s get back to the list, he said as he took the phone from your hand. So… Nylons ? No. Nebulophilia - steam and fog ? Neither. Oh… objectum sexuality. You like toys ?

I have a couple, you admitted. You ?

Yeah, a couple too. Though I don’t use them much. But we could definitely have fun with that, he said.

Sure, why not. What’s next ?

Uh… pregnancy fetish.

Well I’m attracted to women but not pregnant ones, you stated. I get that the creation of life can be beautiful and stuff, but they look like aliens to me.

Yeah ? Well I have to admit… I don’t want anymore kids because I’m all done with that and too old for that shit anyway but… yeah, I think pregnancy is sexy, he admitted. I mean, I sort of have a breeding kink.

Really ? You asked in shock.

Yep. Never been more attracted to my ex than when she was pregnant, he said.

Was that because she was carrying your baby ? You asked.

No, not even that. I mean, that plays a big part in the appreciation, but Stevie isn’t technically mine and still, when Kim was pregnant with her… I found her so hot.

Ok, you said.

You’d had the kids' conversation before and you were ready to give that up, but him saying that kind of made you regret the fact that you’d never be pregnant anymore.

You ok baby ? He asked when you went silent.

Sure, you said softly. I’m just thinking… I’ll never get pregnant again, so… I’ll never get to experience this kind of attraction from you to me, you know ?

Doesn’t matter, baby. I’m always attracted to you. You’re my kink and fetish, you yourself, he said.

Yeah ? You asked.

Of course. Plus, I may have a pregnancy fetish but it’s not that much. Like, I’m not going to jump on every pregnant lady I see like some sort of creep. And I’m not crazy to the point of dealing with 20 years of consequences for 9 months of kink.

Makes sense, you chuckled. So if my belly gets too round because of pizza, that’ll turn you on ?

I don’t know, he said as he burst out in laughter. Probably not though. I like your belly just the way it is.

Ok then. Next item ?

Public sex, he said. That’s a no for me. Obviously. I can’t risk it. Then we have… Quirofilia, the fetish for hands. I don’t really have that either.

Good. I’ll save on getting my nails done, you joked.

No, you can still do that. I mean, I love seeing your pretty hands… especially on some places… but it’s just not really a kink. Also, nail biting turns me off.

Really ?

Yup. Next is… role play. What do you think about that ? He asked.

Not really my thing, you said. But if it’s something you like, I’ll give it a try.

It’s not really my thing either, he said with a smile. Robot fetish ?

Nope, you replied. You ?

Neither. I mean, I guess that if I was single and really in need, I’d love to get a sex robot, but the idea doesn’t really turn me on, he said.

Yeah, you’re just a guy, you teased.

Probably, he admitted with a laugh. Next is spectrochilia. Do you believe in ghosts ?

Not really. But if they were to exist, they’d be more scary than sexy to me, you said.

I agree. Then we have Stygiophilia. That’s a good one, he said. The pleasure of the idea of going to hell or facing eternal punishment. I guess I’d better get going on that one because there’s no way I’m going to heaven so…

Don’t be silly. Of course you’ll go to heaven. You’re the best human I know, you said.

Do you even believe in God he asked ?

Depends. In times of despair, I hope he exists and hears my prayers. Plus, when I look at the marvel of the universe, I think it’s not something random… but I’ve never even read any sacred text or anything, so, not really. How about you ?

I’d say I’m a Christian, he simply stated. Not churchy or anything, but yeah, I’ve read the Bible and I believe in God.

I didn’t know that, you said.

I don’t talk about it a lot. What’s the point ? Everyone has their beliefs.

True. What’s next ?

Tentacles. Nope.

Me neither, you said.

Trichophilia - are you attracted to hair ?

Are you kidding ? I’m a girl born in the 90s. If anything I’ve been taught to despise it, you said with a laugh. You ?

Not attracted to it, nope. But I’m also not one of those guys who is disgusted by it. It’s just… hair.

What’s next ?

Urophilia. That’s a no for me. You ?

Neither.

Thank God. I mean… if you had been into it, I would have respected it, but there’s no way I could be involved in it.

Yeah it’s gross. Let’s change the subject. What’s next ? You asked.

Underwear. Well, you know I have a thing for lingerie, obviously, he chuckled. How about you ?

I like lingerie too, you said with a smile. As for male underwear, I don’t really care, but I like your boxers.

Then we have… Voyeurism, he said.

Oh I’m not a voyeur, you said. If anything I am scared to catch anyone I know in the middle of sex.

Same, he chuckled. But I have to admit that seeing you touch yourself is the hottest thing ever. That gets me really horny, really fast.

Really ? You asked.

Fuck yeah, he said. Remember the night I told you I loved you ?

You blushed at the memory. The whole thing had been caused by his very own sex scene in 8 Mile, of all things.

I like masturbating for you, you said softly. And I kind of like watching you masturbate too.

So kind of a voyeur too I guess ? He said.

I guess. Next ?

Vicarphilia - that’s the… oh, the arousal of hearing someone talk about their sec life. What do you think of that ?

I guess that can be sexy. Never thought of it before. But talking about sex is sexy anyway.

True, he said. Even casually like right now… it’s kind of cool and sexy, he admitted. Then we have whips. Once again, not too keen on those.

Oh, ok, you said.

You ?

I wouldn’t have minded trying but it’s not necessarily on my list either, you said earnestly. Next ?

« Wet and messy », he said with a laugh. I do love when you’re all wet and messy.

Isn’t that one about wet food like jell-o though ? You asked. I always thought it’s kind of gross though.

Oh yeah, he said upon reading the description. Then no, that’s not my thing. Wax play ?

Maybe, you said. I like the idea of massage candles and stuff.

Yeah, that sounds pretty cool, he agreed. Then we have yoni eggs. I don’t have a vagina so I don’t really have an opinion on that one, I have to say.

Yeah… not my thing, you said with a grimace.

Zappers ? He asked. Like electro-stimulation ? Yup, no thanks.

It sounds scary, you said as he nodded.

And there’s the last item on the list : Zentai. Like the latex body suits, he stated.

Not sure I’d like it, you said.

Same here. I mean, you’d look hot in one though, but I’ll survive if I never see it.

That’s it ? We’re done ?

We’re done, he said. Unless you have more questions for me ? To be fair I asked you a lot of them too.

You took a second to think. Of course you had tons of questions you’d like to ask him. After all, he was a worldwide renown superstar, so you assumed he must have crazy stories to tell.

Do you know exactly how many people you have had sex with ? You asked.

I should have known this one was coming, he chuckled. No, I genuinely have no idea. Anything else ?

Do you miss the era when you were… you know… getting a lot of action ? Instead of just having one partner ?

No, he said with a smile. It was fun for a while but it wasn’t fulfilling. When you don’t have a lot of opportunities, you fantasize about it and you think it’s going to be the best thing ever, but you don’t actually get to build a connection with someone, you know ? And the sex is so much better when you have that. Especially with you.

Do you really like our sex life ? You asked.

Of course, he scoffed. What ? Do I look like I don’t ?

No, you said with a smile. But sometimes I worry that I’m not… experienced enough for you.

You don’t have to worry about that, baby, he said as he took you in his arms. I love fucking you, making love to you… It’s great. Are you happy with our sex life ?

Of course, you replied. I mean… You already know you’re the best I have ever had. And I love that we’re able to talk about it, too. Thank you for opening up to me, my love.

I like talking to you, he said. Now, how about a shower ? I’m all sweaty.

You nodded and you went to the bathroom where you showered together, kissing and exchanging love words. After, you lounged in the living room, mindlessly watching TV as he told you about his day and his meetings.

How did the meeting with Tracy go, by the way ? You asked.

Went well, he said with a smile. We talked for a bit and she said she actually feels comfortable to keep working with me, so that’s one less thing to worry about. I would hate it if I had to hire someone else. Sorry, babe, I know you would have loved to see her go.

I never said that, you defended yourself.

I know you too well, he chuckled. You don’t have to worry, though. About how she feels about me, I mean. We cleared the air and she said she was just feeling super lonely.

Do you believe her ? You asked as you squinted.

I do, he replied. So you don’t have to worry about anything, ok ?

Ok, you shrugged. I mean, I trust you. By the way, have you slept with anyone else from your team ?

No, he chuckled. Just her. Why ? Are you jealous ?

I’m not, you said. But I just want to know if I risk running into someone who’s slept with you, you know ?

You should be fine, he chuckled. I mean, you don’t risk meeting any ex of mine besides Tracy. Oh, and Kim, obviously. But that’s it ?

Why would I meet Kim ? You asked confused.

Well, she’s going to be here at Thanksgiving, he shrugged - as if it were no big deal.

You looked at him with a confused look. You had agreed to celebrate Thanksgiving together this year, with his family. It sort of made sense, since the two were living together anyway. However, you had absolutely no idea that it would imply meeting his ex - the infamous Kim Scott. The one that people considered as Marshall’s one true love. You were so taken aback that you had no control over your facial expression.

Anything wrong ? He asked after a few seconds of silence.

You didn’t tell me that when we talked about Thanksgiving, you pointed out.

I thought I did, he shrugged.

I think I would remember if my boyfriend told me his ex-wife would be here, you said sternly.

Sorry, babe, he said casually. Is that an issue ?

I mean… yeah, you said frankly. Why would you celebrate Thanksgiving with her anyway ?

Because she is the mother of my children, he explained. It’s a family holiday.

But she is your ex. You’re divorced, you said.

Yeah but we will always be family, you know ? He continued. It allows the girls to have both of their parents with them and not have to choose. Especially now that they all have boyfriends and spend holidays with their in-laws every other year. Plus, we’re good, you know ? We get along pretty well so it’s no big deal.

Ok, you mumbled. I’ll just celebrate with Talia and Jamal, then.

Not with me ? He asked with his eyebrows furrowed. I was kind of looking forward to our first holiday together, babe.

Me too, you admitted. But that was before I knew your ex would be here.

Why would that change anything ? He asked.

Because it changes everything, you said. How do you expect me to enjoy it if the woman you married - twice, mind you -, the mother of your children is here ? I’m going to be… intruding.

No you wouldn’t, he said as he took your hand in his. You’re my girl, you’re the lady of this house. You can’t intrude in your own place. I want you here, with me.

I don’t know, you said. I don’t feel comfortable. And I bet she wouldn’t either.

She knows you’ll be here, he shrugged. And she doesn’t mind. I think she’s looking forward to meeting you actually.

You stared at him in surprise. You definitely didn’t expect to spend your first holiday as Marshall’s girlfriend with his ex-wife being around. He didn’t seem phased by the situation, as if he didn’t see the problem. You, on the other hand, could smell the disaster from ten thousand miles away. Right when you thought you didn’t actually have to worry about another woman in Marshall’s life, you were about to meet his fucking ex-wife. What could go wrong ? Absolutely everything.

#eminem #marshall mathers #slim shady #eminem fanfiction #recovery fanfiction #eminem x reader #eminem fluff #eminem imagine #marshall mathers x reader #marshall mathers imagine

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citadelsanchez · 2 years

Note

How about Rick goes on a mission and he’d been gone for a very long time, and female reader is depressed because she wants to see him, and rick finally comes back home and sees shes crying because she misses him can be smut or fluff or both I don’t care. :) or dont even have to do it at all lol

have a good day 💕

Cannnn do.

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

2 months.

That's how long you've been in your dark cloud of melancholy and anger.

How long you've been adjusting to life without him. You know that he's a headstrong wanderer and you tell yourself that you don't care. That you would never slip and show any pushback to hinder him from doing what he wants. And that just happens to currently be a lengthy space mission with Morty, -that his parents very begrudgingly agreed to, and you pretended to show enthusiasm for.

But goddamn it, you ache for him. And you hate to admit that but it bubbles in your chest until you feel like you'll collapse from the sensation. And you're conflicted because you know he would care if he knew, but he wouldn't let on about it. Because he wouldn't expect you to show it. So you just fill your lungs with air and try to continue through your day, everyday.

How could you not miss Rick? His indignant nature to those around him, cracked only by the far and few in between moments where he shows his compassion that he tries so desperately to stow away. It's always made you yearn for him, mentally and physically.

And you feel a somber sense of pride, knowing that you've changed his ways some.

You've chipped heavily at the wall of protection he guards constantly. He throws jabs at you, then softens his eyes immediately after. He gets black out drunk and rages about his family and love lost; then lays his head in your lap, finally losing consciousness, while you stare in wonder. He creeps into your bed at night when he thinks you're asleep, laying still beside you for a few minutes, just to be sure you're not awake, before wrapping an arm around you and resting his chin on the top of your head. You always make sure to breathe softly to imitate your deep slumber while you smile in content. "I-I'm uh, not a cuddler," he'd said before.

You lay in your bed now, hands clutching your blanket and tears pooling quietly in your eyes while you think of this.

It's become a nightly routine- you begin to shake and sob a little, while looking through pictures and videos you've saved on your phone of Rick. You at least know that Rick is alive and safe as you hold close the stuffed "Mini Rick" doll he'd given you that tracks his status and updates if he's in danger. "Rather give it to you t-than Beth, she'd just go nuts," he'd said. You've called him a few times over the past 59 days but never got a response, so you left it be. Knowing that he was alive was all you had.

"Rick, where are you? Come home, please. I-I miss you. It's-it's been so long. I need to see you., seriously.." You tell the doll through tears, staring into its beady eyes. It was useless- you knew it didn't have a listening feature because that's not what Rick designed it for.

["Rick has a heart rate of 95 bpm and is not in danger"] the doll spoke in Rick's programmed voice.

Your eyes burn as you pulled the blanket over your head. You're glad that no one can hear your awful wailing since you live alone.

Hours seemed to pass as sleep slowly started evading you when you hear a whooshing noise and a small grunt. Terrified, you scream in surprise and hold your phone flashlight in front of the sound.

"A-ah Jesus fuck, Y/N, it's just me," you hear a gruff voice curse. Rick.

"Rick? Is it really you?" You ask, a flood of emotions now filling your head.

He puts his portal gun in his coat pocket and sits on your bed. "W-who else do you know with a fucking poORTAL gun?" He burps.

You reach out to hug him and bury your head in his neck. "I um, missed you dickhead," you say, feeling a mountain of stress fall from your body as he hugs you back.

"I missed you too I guess," he mumbles and you hit him playfully.

"Wow, I'm glad I get the ultimate privilege of being an 'I guess'."

He rolls his eyes and takes a good look at your messy hair and stained makeup. "You uh, look a little rough."

You feel embarrassment creep up as you wipe your face. "Yeah, I was watching sad animal videos. I-I don't know why I do it to myself" you say, impressed by your own ability of making something up on the spot.

Rick stares at you with a slight look of amusement and sympathy on his face. "Uh huh, you're as convincing as always. Come here" he says, pulling you softly to lay down with him.

Your cheeks flush realizing that he's probably pieced together why you were actually crying. Of course, smartest man bullshit. Why wouldn't he?

You're staring at his soft face and blue locks while his eyes are closed. He looks exhausted, but somehow still so angelic. "T-turn around," he demands. You scoff lightly and roll over, before feeling both of his arms come around your waist and his chin rest on top of your head.

"We're uh, not done with the mission yet" Rick speaks quietly.

"Still? Why are you here already then? Not that I'm complaining."

He's quiet for a minute before responding. "You needed to see me."

Your brows furrow in confusion as his arms tighten around you. "What?"

He kisses the back of your head. "You should sleep now."

"Rick, what do you mean by that?"

Silence again before he responds. "You said that you needed to see me."

You pause and register what he's saying. Mini Rick. He heard you speaking to the doll.

"Rick! So you could hear me the whole time?"

He traces the outline of your stomach with his head still resting comfortably on top of yours. You can hear the smugness laced in his voice. "Sure could, sweetie. B-but like I said, let's get some rest."

#rick and morty #rick sanchez #rick sanchez x reader #rick and morty season 6

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colourstreakgryffin · 11 months

Text

Random KNY Hashira Post #3

In a really hand-holding/lovey mood at the moment so I’m gonna do headcanons for the Hashira holding your hand~! <3

Kyojuro Rengoku

- Kyojuro views you as his elegant stunning lady so he’ll hold your hand like you’re actually the most regal lady out there

- Holds your hand at complete random. He doesn’t need a reason or a excuse, he’ll just hold it because he wants to

- Kyojuro also holds your hand to help you inside places like restaurants or over small inconveniences like floor puddles

- Sometimes, he just stares at your naked ring finger and wonders when he should put a ring on it

- Kyojuro’s hands are as warm as a soothing fire and he happily give them to you when you ask, You deserve comfort and Kyojuro is always prepared to do whatever you wish

- Brush your hand on Kyojuro’s face as you two talk and as he holds it, he loves it so much. Your touch is so soft and he just melts

- Loves taking your hand and holding it in the Flame Estate too. Public or not, he seems to view having your hand in his like it’s his beating heart

- “Snowflake! Look! There’s a street dance going on! Let’s go over and dance! Hold my hands so we can dance together!”

Obanai Iguro

- Enjoys the “Interlocked Fingers” hand-holding type the most. It’s a mix of loving and protective

- This type tells Obanai that you’re never gonna let go and you can’t be taken away from him

- And that he also has you, his one true love at the right distance. It’ll only take a single pull to bring you to his body

- His fingers squeeze a bit tighter then usual but that’s just his protective nature kicking in

- Holds your hand like this almost all the time. He loves feeling your warmth, he is drinking in your happiness and having you next to him as much as possible

- Walking through the fleek market, crossing the small river, sleeping peacefully at night. Absolutely anytime, Obanai won’t fail to grab your hand and lock your fingers to his

- It’s like destiny that your hand fits in his so well. Obanai views it as a sign that your heart is attached your hand when it clings onto his

- “Angel? Oh. You want to hold my hand— of course you can. Don’t even ask, just take it, okay? …So soft, so warm…”

Muichiro Tokito

- Muichiro isn’t really worried about you leaving his side or anything so he has a very calm fashion of holding your hand!

- Relaxed is always how Muichiro feels around you so he expresses it through his hand-holding

- He also holds your hand all the time. He wants to keep you close and be able to embellish in your warmth and love

- His thumb regularly strokes the top end of your palm. This can be a sign of him quietly expressing his love or him starting to space out

- Views holding your hand as the top priority over everything else. Anything he may need to carry can wait a long time

- You two arranged it that your hand would also be used to prevent him from wondering off but sometimes, he ends up dragging you with him

- “Dokusha… that cloud up there. It looks like you. It’s a… yeah, it’s a icicle. You’re the prettiest icicle so you’re— Oh? Damn, your hand doesn’t look comfy in mine, let me fix it”

Shinobu Kocho

- Shinobu is simple but very loving in her favourite hand-holding style

- The down-facing palm! It’s comfortable and affectionate, allowing her to do her own business and keep you by a arm’s length

- Shinobu gets kinda self-conscious when she sees your bigger hand cupped in hers. She does sometimes wonder if you pity her for her tiny hands

- Holds your hand all the time, like most of the Hashira. She needs you to stay near, where she can keep you safe so having you chained by arms is simply perfect

- Believe it or not but Shinobu even holds your hand during the missions you share with her. Whilst running through the night, Shinobu feels her heart churn at the sight of your hand happily laid on hers

- Shinobu is a teaser. She likes teasing you when you fluster up at the little playful squeezes she gives your hand at times

- Your hand is her home and no matter what, she’ll always be down to have your hands in hers

- “Oh my, little bumblebee~ Your fingers are so cold. Here, let me take both of your hands. Hmm? So I can warm you up, silly~”

Giyuu Tomioka

- Giyuu is a extreme introvert and is too shy to enjoy PDA in the slightest

- But he really likes you. So the way he makes up for his lack of courage is to engage in this handhold

- Giyuu would rather be able to hold your hand more firmly, out of his protectiveness, but this is the best he can do

- Initiates the handholding and hooks his finger onto yours, looking away out of nervousness. Giyuu loves holding your hand but can’t look you in the eye whilst doing it

- Clings onto your hand through his defensive and paranoid nature. Knowing that you’re still with him eases his nerves

- Even though, he wants to hold both of your hands. He’ll take up all the stuff you need to carry for you so you have free hands

- Giyuu, like Mitsuri, sees hand-holding as a way to bond with you and also a way for him to express his love in a less flashy style

- Secretly kisses your knuckles by hiding himself from you and everybody else whilst taking your finger

- “Dokusha… can you… hold my… hand…? Why? I just want you… t-to stay near me… please, cmere and let me hold you. Ah! Oh, thank you”

Gyomei Himejima

- Gyomei can be considered plain or boring with how he likes holding your hand but he is accustom to this style

- His grip is always gentle and considerate, he won’t ever squeeze you as he knows his strength will overwhelm you

- Gyomei finds your hands very cute, like the rest of you. He loves feeling your warmth and relishes in how comfortable you seem holding his hand

- Likes tracing your fingers with his other hand whilst holding your hand. Your skin is so gentle and soft. Trust me, he’ll always be gentle

- Gyomei holds your hand mainly as a indication of his love. But in new public places, he holds it to show you his trust in you to lead him

- Links you two’s hands together by putting his praying beads around them. Not possessively, Gyomei just does this to make sure nothing can take you away

- “Well, my dear. I just love touching your hand, you’re so soft, so warm. It almost makes me feel inferior to the angel you are… I hope you don’t mind if I worship it”

Mitsuri Kanroji

- She isn’t clingy or overprotective so the reason why she holds your hand in this style is because it’s comfortable, makes her feel closer to you and she can better thrive off your skin’s warmth

- Mitsuri sees holding your hand like this as a way of bonding, a way of showing off her love and since she has a lot of love for you, she’ll hold your hand until both yours and hers sweat

- Mitsuri accidentally squeezes a bit hard but she always apologises and kisses your hand over and over to “make you forgive her”

- Holds your hand almost all the time, it really depends the situation!

- In public, she does. She needs to keep you next to her so you can see the grand things too, yet in private, it’s sparse for Mitsuri to hold your hand

- She respects your need to let go at times but doesn’t like it. She just wishes she can hold your hand forever, it’s amazing and makes her heart race

- Loves swinging you two’s linked arms when holding hands like a child. She is energetic and finds it as a good way to make you laugh

- Holds your hand this way only when both hands are unoccupied. But if she has to hold something, she’ll hold your hand in the downward palm style, but she prefers cupping your one with her two

- “Are you having a great time, bubblegum? I am! I hope you— Oh! You miss holding my hand? Give yours to me then! I’ll hold your hand! Now, is that better?”

Tengen Uzui

- Tengen is quite the playful man. Even if he seems fancy or seductive, he likes making everyday a exciting ride so his way of holding your hand is through a cute shoulder hug

- Intertwining fingers in this type is the cherry on top of the cake. And Tengen sees doing it as the final lock to the chain when it comes to keeping you close

- Nobody can pluck you out if he has you in a cuddle like this? Now, can they? No, and Tengen is proud that he can defend you better by being so affectionate as well

- Tengen can’t cuddle-hold your hand all the time, cause of Hinatsuru, Makio and Suma but he shares around his hand-holding equally. When you want it, he’ll make time to give you it and his love sprinkled in

- Also another Hashira that loves giving hand kisses but he probably does it the most. He is a romantic husband so he expresses his undying love through those small wrist and finger kisses

- Hug-holds hands to fish for your attention, most of the time. He is needy so he’ll show you that he wants you

- “Where are we going now, dollface? Hmm, my arm’s too big or something? I thought you liked it when I cuddle you. You do? Good, cause I’m not gonna let go of your cute little hand~!”

Sanemi Shinazugawa

- Would Sanemi seem like the type to have a aggressive hand-hold?

- Because he isn’t. He prefers the gentle grip, it’s soft, lovely and makes him feel appreciated

- To Sanemi, this hand-hold gives him the permissions to let loose everything in his hidden soft side and he can finally be gentle for once

- Holds your hand like this when he wants your attention. Not in a rudely selfish way, but more in a “hey, look” or “need to talk to you” way

- Sanemi is also a protective one so he may do a tighter version of this handhold when he feels it’s required but otherwise, he is regularly gentle

- Sanemi likes raising your hand to his lips and giving it a kiss. He does this at random and claims it’s because he loves how soft your skin is

- Grabs your hand and drags you away from people he doesn’t like the look of. He kisses your cheek as a apology if he pulled too hard or squeezed your fingers too tight

- “Just stick with me, honeypop. I ha… don’t like when guys just ogle at you and I’m sorry that I hurt your fingers. Let me kiss them better”

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rosewaterandivy · 7 months

Text

ii. let me dream of you

summary: interrupted dreams, meddling friends, and a storm.

pairing: s.h. x witch!reader

w.c.: 3.6k

warnings: my blog is 18+ MDNI; vague allusions to magic and the like, carpenter & flannel-wearing Steve.

a/n: here she is, as promised! i would like to thank alice hoffman and her exquisite prose, for bringing us the ULTIMATE autumn vibes with practical magic.

Nota bene: Reblogging, commenting, and liking my work is always appreciated! Reposting, however, is not. Enjoy! 💜

Series Masterlist | Playlist | Currently spinning:

On the tenth day of the tenth month, you’d decided that you’d had enough. Sick of waking up breathless and in an inferno of heat, a fever you couldn’t possibly sweat out. Haunted by kind hazel eyes and a soft smile, a faint cloud of wood and sap taunting you at every turn.

You were good on your own.

Always had been.

And the arrival of a carpenter down the block had changed nothing.

Except that now you would wake at odd hours of the night, only to see a warm amber glow from his house down the way. Mimicking the purple hue from your own room, you were sure. Interrupted sleep, walking around in a daze, hallucinating that you’re seeing him in places he ought not be— in your kitchen, at your favorite cafe, in your dreams.

Tangled in the well-worn sheets of your bed. Resplendent and golden in the early morning light. Your fingers threading through his hair as rough, warm hands slid down your sides to grip onto your hips, giving a gentle squeeze. His arms wrapped around you tightly, pulling your body flush with his as you settled in his lap, an agonizing ache spreading steadily throughout your body.

His hot mouth traveled up your neck until his lips met yours with a soft groan, the sound setting your skin ablaze as you sunk into him more, desperate to be close. Skin to skin. Your fingers flexing in his hair as you ground your hips into his, reveling in the low whine that managed to slip up his throat.

It was intoxicating. He was intoxicating. His taste and warmth and the sounds that he made making your head go hazy in the best way as you thrummed with need. Desire swooping low in your stomach to leave the most tender of aches. Your body begged for him. You could never get enough. You felt crazy.

Your mouth met his neck in a soft suck, his breath catching in his throat as you licked and bit. Nosing along the column of his throat to settle just beneath his ear, infatuated with the dusting of freckles and moles there.

It felt like his heart was about to beat out of his chest, pounding against the cage of his ribs looking for a way out. Skin erupting in goosebumps when your sweet breath caresses his skin.

“Thought about this before?” You asked softly, scratching your nails down his shoulders until you could squeeze his biceps.

“How did you–”

“Could feel it,” you admit with a smile to his pulse point, pressing a kiss there just so you could feel it thrum against your lips. “I don’t know. Just … could tell.”

He squeezed your hips harder still, pulling you closer against him, not even an inch of space between your bodies and yet still not close enough. His chest was heaving, hips arching up against his will, dying to relieve some of the ache.

“Me too.” He murmured the confession up to the ceiling, his voice just above a whisper. “Want you so badly.”

You reached down to feel the hard length of him through the rumpled sheets. The small catch in his breath encouraging you to rub your palm over him. You looked up as his head tilted back, neck on full display, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat alluringly.

“Then take me.”

His heart skipped a beat, your words doing more to him than he thought possible. Words he’d imagined falling from your kiss-bitten lips more often than he’d care to admit. He wanted more, needed more. Needed you to say all the things he’d been feeling and too afraid to admit.

And then Steve’s heart plummeted, his eyes blinking in the warm sunlight as his alarm blared on the nightstand. He looked around his empty bedroom in confusion, his brain lagging on what was happening, your hazy form slipping through the recesses of his mind and then it dawned on him.

A dream.

And a wet one at that.

Up at the shop, things were picking up as summer turned to autumn and you couldn’t recall the last time you had a day off. Everyone in town, it seemed, had a sudden hankering to descend upon Bell, Book, & Candle in preparation for the season.

The phone rang as you finished with a customer. Excusing yourself, you left to answer it only to find Tracy with the receiver in her hand nodding along and taking notes on a scrap of receipt paper. “Of course, we’ll be here to let them in. Thanks so much!” She chirped a goodbye and placed the phone back in its cradle against the wall.

“Who was that?” You asked, stepping behind the counter to check the day’s to-do list. Most of the items had been crossed out— Inventory, Call in replen order, Front window display?, Bank deposit, File invoices. But something had been added to the bottom of the list in Tracy’s handwriting: H & M - 8 PM.

“Oh, just the construction company confirming our appointment.”

“Appointment for…?”

She gestured to the built-ins, “The teak? Your new neighbor mentioned it the other day.”

“Yeah,” you huff, “As a suggestion. One I haven’t had the time to consider.”

“Well,” she drawled with a saccharine smile, “Luckily for you, I’ve had the time and I think he’s onto something.”

“Hmm,” you hum, as if considering her point. “Do you also happen to have the money this will set us back?”

Mouth turning up at the corners, she propped an elbow against the desk. “Thought you could just magic some out of thin air. You’re a Callahan, after all.”

Eyes rolling, you scoff and turn back to the task at hand. The oft-dreaded inventory; you grab a pen and a legal pad, trotting off to the stock-room. Getting off of the shop floor was a blessing, nevermind that it was late in the day and you’d be closing up soon— customer after customer needing special attention or clamoring that the item in question wasn’t there, when it was clearly right in front of their noses.

Tracy can handle the stragglers of the day, besides she loathed inventory even more than you did. Mollified by the gentle pitter patter of rain falling on the roof, you let your mind wander. Business was good, Tracy and the aunts were doing well— no complaints there. But something was niggling at the back of your skull, darting to and fro before you could get a good, hard look at it. Annoying, yes but not distractingly so.

The blue bic pen scratches against the paper as you note specific items and quantities, starring those that are running a bit low, prioritizing any with ample back stock for the shop floor. Making your way around the room from shelf to shelf, you lost yourself to the familiar routine.

Eddie and Steve were finishing up a job, an installation of a washer and dryer for a new mom. She’d offered them refreshments and checked on them every so often, occasionally with the newborn in tow.

Steve was checking the input while Eddie wiped down the machines to clear any dust that may have settled. He eyes Steve, wondering what could’ve gotten into the man— up at odd hours of the night, walking from one room to the next only to forget why as soon as he’d arrived, and a faint, hazy look in his eye.

“You remember Trish?”

Steve grunts. “That Wiccan chick you dated?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, “She was pagan, but yeah.”

He pockets the rag, steps back to allow Steve some room to assess the laundry unit.

“You remember that reading she gave you?”

A snort. “Once you fall in love,” he quotes with a laugh, “It’ll be forever.”

He couldn’t help but disagree. While his conquests were plenty, and true, he didn’t love most of them, but there had been a few.

“Tell that to Nance.”

Now it’s Eddie’s turn to scoff. “Nah man,” He says, following Steve out into the kitchen. “You didn’t love her, not really.”

Steve ruefully bites his bottom lip. Yeah, maybe. “She’s better off now anyways.”

A clap of a warm hand to his shoulder as Eddie gives him a shake, “That’s the spirit!” And leaves to let the client know they’re done.

Steve grabs the tools and eyes the kitchen table, something from IKEA and already showing wear and tear. Knows he could do better— salvaged wood, something study and timeless. He leaves their card on the table and steps out the door.

The woman waves from the living room, still in conversation with Eddie, who is currently holding the baby for the time being. He nods to Steve, a signal that he’ll be done soon, before turning back to the conversation.

He tosses the tool belt into the bed of the truck begins to roll down the sleeves of his flannel. Steve’s so wound up, he can’t think of anything but you, the Callahan girl with the shop on main street. The soft purple light from the house down the block. He’s started carrying a knife around with him, in order to whittle some odds and ends from scrap lumber. Something, anything to do to keep his mind off of you.

Met you all of one time and he wants you so bad, that he’s fucking you in his head when he should be doing things like paying attention to pedestrians as he’s driving or helping his widowed neighbor with her garden and hedges. Steve had always run warm, but now he’s so overheated that the cuffs of his shirts are singed. He’s hard constantly, ready for something that looks as if it’s never going to happen.

“Ready to go?”

Steve settles into the driver’s seat and sighs. As the engine turns over, the sky takes on a darker hue, more gray than blue with rolling clouds.

“She was nice,” Eddie says, flipping through invoices from the passenger seat. “Said she might be calling us for a kitchen reno.”

Steve scoffs, “That kitchen doesn’t need a reno, just a table that isn’t a piece of shit.”

“Yeah,” Eddie’s lips curl up in a smile, “Told her about your carpentry skills, dude.”

He hmms in response.

They pull up to the house on Willow Lane, Robin already bounding out of the garage to meet them. She’s got a few pieces of paper in her hand, and begins rattling off names and addresses for estimates.

“And, oh–” She follows them into the workshop, Steve shouldering his tool belt while Eddie frantically scribbled on a legal pad. “Tracy at Bell, Book, & Candle called to say the service entrance will be open for you.”

Steve furrows his brow, “Tracy?”

“Yeah,” Robin confirms, “Eddie did an estimate for her a few days ago. Re-oiling the teak built-ins? She won’t be there but the owner will.”

He stills. “Oh, right.”

Eddie smirks, and elbows Robin conspiratorially. “Y’know, I just remembered I promised I’d help Robs tonight.”

“Yeah!” She chimes in, “With the uh, thing.”

He stifles a laugh, “Uh huh, the thing.” Eddie turns to Steve, “You can handle this solo, right, big boy?”

Steve, for his part, is in a daze and while he registers what they’ve said, it never seems to reach him. Bell, Book, & Candle, isn’t that Callahan’s place? He’s got a lump in his throat just thinking about you. Already imagining the things you could do if the two of you were alone together. Steve could forget the reason he’s there in the first place if he’s not careful. He could make a very stupid mistake.

“Fucking Christ!”

“Shit, I am so sorry,” Steve says, letting the service door shut behind him. He sets a small toolbox down and reaches to help you up.

Startled by his sudden arrival, you’d dropped a blown-glass cloche on the floor and fell in a heap against the industrial shelves of the storeroom. Tentatively, your palm meets his as you allow him to pull you up. His grip was strong and comforting, and you couldn’t help but admire the way his arm flexed ever so slightly as he pulled you up.

“You okay?” He asks, checking you for any nicks or cuts from the glass.

Steve hasn’t had an easy life, and it shows on his face. There are lines and hollows underneath his eyes that he’s too young to have, and there’s a good bit of loneliness there too, plain for anyone to see. He’s not the kind of man who hides things, but he’s trying desperately to hide his interest in you.

And failing.

In fact, you can’t quite believe the way he’s staring at you. Would somebody really have the nerve to stand in the storeroom of your business and look at you like this?

Apparently, Steve Harrington would.

“Let me, uh,” His eyes dart to the shattered glass behind you, “I’ll clean that up, just–”

“It’s fine. I can–”

“No, it’s my fault.” He says with a shake of his head, dodging your concerned eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

When you softly chuckle, Steve looks into your eyes and sees himself upside down. He finds himself in a pool of twilight, drowning, going down for the second time, and there’s nothing he can do about it. He remembers hearing some old wives' tale about how witches caught you this way—they knew how much most men loved themselves and how deeply they’ll let themselves be drawn in, just for a glimpse of their reflection.

Narcissus and the pool.

Steve has no intention of spurning you like poor Echo, no nothing like that. He intends to go on drowning for a very long time.

“Takes a lot more than that to scare me,” You reply with a soft smile. “Broom is in the supply closet.” A nod to the corner of the room. “I’ll meet you out front?”

Your hair has slipped out of its rubber band. You’re wearing leggings and an oversized sweater, the sleeves keep sliding down your arms even though you’d rolled them up, you’re out of sorts but surprisingly patient. You’re beautiful all right, at least by Steve Harrington’s estimation, you’re exactly what he’d dreamed you’d be, except right there in front of him.

Close enough to touch.

“Sure thing.” He says, watching you leave the room.

Steve shakes his head, but that doesn’t clear up the matter. All it does is make him see double. Momentarily there are two of you before him, and each one makes him wish he weren’t here in an official capacity. He forces himself to get the broom and sweep up the glass shards. Thinks about the soft brush of your skin against his, wonders if you’d let him kiss you slow and deep, undress you leisurely in a warm amber glow.

Later, in the cool calm of Bell, Book, & Candle, it takes everything you have to keep your nerve and look at Steve. He looks right back at you, irises like crisp evergreen. So quickly that you have to lower your gaze to the floor.

A recollection of warning from the aunts, that one must be extremely careful looking into eyes like his. Women have lost themselves for a lot less than a glance. You shudder to think of the girls and women who would brave the bluestone path at twilight, desperation roiling off them like so much heat.

Some came for vengeance, others out of desire. But they all came seeking love.

You would sit at the top of the stairs while the aunts did their work. The hearts of doves pierced seven times, taffeta charm bags stuffed into purses and pockets, a sense of magic crackling through the air. And you swore to yourself that you’d never end up like them, that losing your wits and falling in love was just not for you.

One-night stands a town or so over, frenzied touches in the backseat of cars, tongues and teeth battling for dominance, spit and slick aplenty. A spinster, you were not. The system worked well, allowed you to get out your frustrations, sexual or otherwise, and avoid the curse of the Callahan women.

That each man they loved died.

So no, you wouldn’t fall in love. Couldn’t subject someone to a fate like that, closed off your emotions, and kept your distance. Despite the ringing of the telephone, the calls and messages went unanswered from former paramours. They knew the deal, a one-time thing. It didn’t matter how many bouquets arrived at your doorstep, or cars idling in the street as the light turned green, people distracted enough to cause a fender-bender or two.

“Had a dream about you, I think.” He says, helping you to clear the shelves of product.

The blood drains from your face. Clearing your throat, you keep your voice light. “Oh, yeah?”

Steve hums, “Mmhmm.” Furrows his brow and tries not to stare while you bend over to pick up a box from the floor. “It was …” He trails off, not used to remembering his dreams.

It was a new development, having dreams instead of nightmares. One he’d happily take if it meant having you, the peal of your laughter against skin warmed sheets, the soft caress of your fingers trailing down his neck and chest mapping the scars of years past, the taste of you on his lips.

He shakes the thought loose and goes back to the task at hand.

“Good?” You supply to his unfinished thought.

“Yeah.” He smiles at you, so pretty it could launch a thousand ships. Pink tongue darting out to wet his lips, “Real good.”

Breath catching in your chest, you give him a polite smile in return and ignore the swoop low in your stomach.

While Steve is sure you’re deciding whether or not to judge him a liar, he can feel his heart flopping around like a fish in his chest. He’s heard of this happening to other men. They’re going about their business one minute, and suddenly there’s no hope for them. They fall in love so hard they never again get up off their knees.

Not that he would mind getting on his knees for you, if you were to ask.

Some people believe that every question has a logical answer, there’s an order to everything, which is neat and based on purely empirical evidence. But really, what could it be but luck that the rain doesn’t begin in earnest until Steve starts to sand down the teak shelves of Bell, Book, & Candle.

Lightning, like love, is never ruled by logic.

So when the first bit of it cracks across the sky, you’re watching. While Steve is busy with the sander, you approach a candle and blow on the wick until it catches with flame. A dim amber glow in the creeping dark. Eventually, all the candles are lit and when the storm crashes onto Main Street and cuts the power, Steve barely notices at first.

Because he is so fucked.

He was even before you started lighting the candles, but the soft golden light somehow makes it worse. His vision has never been the best, but even he can make you out in the dark. But now, the candlelight flickers and licks across your skin. Curves illuminated in the soft light, beautiful and radiant.

You smile bright and bite your tongue between your teeth, the whites of them flashing in the light. The scent of a struck match ushers out the scent of you in his nostrils; he misses it.

Another crack of lightning, close enough to feel the charge, feels himself flush with a white hot heat. With a close call like that, it makes perfect sense that he shakes and drops the belt sander.

The silence stretches between you.

“Sorry,” he breathes out, nice and slow. Steve allows his gaze to linger, drawing against the planes and curves of your face. It’s enough to make his breath catch in his throat when the flicker of candlelight warms your skin.

And this is where he falters.

Steve doesn’t like being unprepared or out of control. He thrives with a plan, a clear objective and goal.

You were never part of the plan. Or, any plan really.

The day Steve Harrington met you was the day the world ceased to turn.

He’d never been so struck by someone before.

So unmoored.

He’s keenly aware that there are only a few feet separating the two of you. Not that he minds; he’s close enough now that the scent of you–salt and musk–slightly overpowers the woodsy candles you’ve lit. He far prefers the former.

Knows he would only have to take a step or two to the right to pull you into his orbit.

There’s a chill in the air as the first thunderclap sounds. The rain falls heavily after that, the worst of the storm whirling through. It floods the room with brisk air and the crisp tang of rain.

He pulls you toward him, warm fingers tilting your chin up to look at him. Somehow, he’s got you tucked and pressed against him, back settled against the shelves before you can register what’s happening. You’re baffled when it hits you, the realization flashing across your face under a crash of lightning.

The green of his eyes is impossible, even in the dim candlelight. But even more than that, what makes your heart stutter in your chest, are the flakes of gold, like a halo dusted around his pupils. You don’t know how you missed it before; Steve looks at you, flushed and dazed, and it all falls into place.

Oh shit.

#steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #fic: tiofky

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