#i thought the younger ones would be silly but it was all kind of depressing
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damn my journal/diary entries are so fcking dramatic. like you could put this shit in a book or a movie level dramatic and it would make for a great scene. the writer brain is still active when u journal lol. i should transcribe some of the handwritten ones and scrape em for parts and pieces to use in my writing.
#bobbi babbling#i was watching videos of people reading their old diaries and performing them#(yes smosh)#and i was like ‘hey lemme look at mine!’#and unfortunately ive never had a consistent diary and i didnt do entries every year either at least not that ive kept#but i do have a lot of entries still!#i thought the younger ones would be silly but it was all kind of depressing#BUT#i did find some gems#like from preschool about the boy in my class i wanted to marry#and then in kindergarten all the boys that were into and i had to let them down easy bc i was already taken by said preschool classmate
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Rekindled || Javier Peña x f!reader**
summary: back in Laredo, Javi’s past weighs heavily on him. luckily, a long lost love is there for him.
word count: 4.4k
warnings: mentions of religion, loss and depression, alcohol and smoking; piv, cunnilingus, fingering, praise kink, doggy (what can I say, sad slut Javi needs some comfort). song inspo.
AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS & MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!
gif: @skyshipper
read on AO3
The air is thick with heat, sweat and long lost memories. Some better than others. Not a single breeze rushes through the air. It’s all still, almost as if dead.
In all honesty, Laredo is both comforting and haunted.
Can’t be any worse than Colombia though, Javier thinks fleetingly as he tosses and turns in his bed. The heat is holding him in a chokehold, but you think he’d be used to it after facing years of it both here and in the drug paradise. But there’s a certain sadness attached to his hometown.
The looks people throw him, the smiles, the soul-aching melancholy that creeps its way into his heart each time he sets foot back home, they’re all making him feel even more disappointed with the outcome of his so-called career.
Home, he scoffs and stands to the side of the bed, his head in his hands. It’s been far too long since he last thought of a place as his home. Laredo is, now more than ever before, a dusty memory at the bottom of a box filled with many more of the same kind.
People here view him as a hero. Javier, on the other hand, feels like a failure. Yet he still shakes the hands of those who reach out to him to thank him, still offers a faint smile in their direction that fades into regret not a second later. He’s glad he can at least help his father though. He’s not getting younger, and the ranch needs a lot of work. That is now his sole satisfaction.
Okay, perhaps not the sole one.
He remembers your face vividly, like it is permanently tattooed on his brain. You were never exclusive; there was never any definition attached to your relationship and truly, there never seemed to be enough time. You were two acquaintances finding occasional solace in each other’s arms. Bodies entangled together, creating the only safe space either one of you ever knew, bringing pleasure to the other.
You’ve known each other for a long time. You were barely teenagers when your connection blossomed. Time split you apart, threw you in completely different directions and yet, whenever Javier made his back to Laredo, he subsequently made his way back to you.
He is a special part of you. That you would deny to no one should they ask, not even to yourself. Always has been, always will be. But you know him better than to admit to some childish feelings that could imprison you both to a lifetime of misery, or unwanted responsibilities. Things tend to work like that in this silly town: traditional, ancient, and you and Javier were either of those things. Each time you saw each other it felt like the first time, and there never seemed to be enough time to give in to each other.
But you do care for him, just as much as he cares for you. He needn’t say it or even show it in some way. You feel it.
Sometimes enough for you both.
It’s a little over midnight as he’s arriving to your house through Laredo’s heat in that rusty old truck he claims to hate, but that he can’t rid himself of. All he can hope to do is have a smoke, a conversation and maybe even a little taste of you, just a singular taste, then he can go to bed.
Except it’s never just one taste when it comes to you. And certainly not little.
It’s hard to explain. You’re… familiar, soft and comfortable. You understand, you reciprocate and you care. And it’s the best Javier could ever ask for.
He cares, too. Too much for his own good. So it’s far easier to conceal it underneath a thick cloud of nicotine and waves of liquor and carnal pleasure.
He parks a little further down the road so as to not stand out with that truck, and takes a deep breath. There is a faint light coming from your house, much to his relief. He wouldn’t want to wake you up just for his usual shenanigans. He isn’t sure what he’s expecting out of tonight or what he needs. He just needs to see you, to be with you, however that may be.
Usually confident with the opposite gender, you somehow render him speechless. A devilish trick, he likes to say and watch you chuckle with a je ne sais quoi that makes his heart tremble each time without fail.
Maybe he cares for you even more than he himself knows.
He musters the courage to knock on the door, pack of cigarettes already in his hand. He still plans to quit. Just… not tonight.
“Hi,” you greet him with a reassuring smile.
Javier releases a long breath, his gaze locked in a trance on you. Your hair is loose, combed and luscious as ever, and you’re wearing a silk robe that makes him swallow—hard. Unsurprisingly, the sight makes him a little hard, too, but he pushes it out of his mind. He hasn’t seen you in a few weeks by this point and it feels simultaneously like an eternity had passed and that it was like yesterday.
“Can I come in?” he asks.
One look in his chocolate, warm eyes that gape at you like a lost puppy and you are ready to surrender everything.
You make sure to close the door behind you, noticing that Javier steps aside to let you first. You diligently guide him to the living room, where you had been reading for the past hour, hoping to fall asleep.
Yet sleep eluded you, now more than before.
“Couldn’t sleep either?” you ask.
“Too fucking hot,” he says, already lighting his cigarette. “Too many… thoughts.”
“Was one of them me?”
“It always is.”
You smile at him and extend your own cigarette at him. “My lighter died,” you explain.
Sometimes you enjoy talking to Javier. There is plenty to be said and he is a remarkably smart man. But you have the feeling that right now, wrapped in the smell of nicotine, isn’t one of those times.
“You remembered to park closer to the trees, right?”
“Don’t worry,” he reassures you.
It’s not that either one of you cares about those folks commenting on your whereabouts, but you really didn’t need to be the town’s hot gossip, especially when Javier’s reputation had never been better.
“What’s keeping you up?”
Javier takes a long drag out of the cigarette before releasing the smoke and answering you.
“Life.”
“And I was worried you’d be vague.”
He looks out the window for a while, and you know not to push for more.
You know all the insignificant things about him that make up his puzzle-like persona: how he likes his coffee, his go-to breakfast, his favorite cigarettes and whiskey, as well as his favorite past times. But you also know the big, ugly truths: the heartbreak, the pain, the anger and the disappointment, the lost hope… you suppose you know him inside out.
But you could never say with certainty what he is. He’s merely a friendly face. You don’t dare think more. He’s there when you need him, and you are there when he needs you. That matters more than anything else.
“Everyone thinks I’m some sort of hero,” he says after a while.
“According to what I hear, you are.”
“Yeah, well, I feel like a fucking failure.”
You observe him quietly, steadily, like he’s your biggest and dirtiest secret. In a lot of ways, you suppose he is. Right now, you only see a disappointed man who is searching for a purpose, for more answers. He was always the kind of man who needed to know everything. He could never let things without definition.
Which is surprising considering that neither of you labeled this, what you were doing. Certainly more than friends with benefits if it were up to you, but who could say what was truly going on inside his head?
“You made it out of this town,” you remind him. “I call that a win.”
“I’m right back to square one.”
“Come on, don’t tell me you want to stay in this shithole forever.”
Javier chuckles softly, trying his hardest not to remark the way your robe is sliding up your leg and teasingly exposing your thigh to him in the golden, dim light.
“I don’t know,” he replies. “It’s a pretty bleak future ahead right now.”
“Have you been praying?”
You know the answer to this one, so the question is, technically, redundant. He’s never really been a believer, but he didn’t fight against it either. He sort of let the idea float in the air.
But there was a time in his life when he prayed. Day and night he desperately prayed for his mother, breaking your heart little by little. One day, Javier stopped simply wishing for good things. The day his mother was gone, he stopped. His hope began to fade away, but he never fully cast it away. He rather put it in the same box of old things he longed to forget about.
“For what?” he asks, slightly irritated by the notion and crushing his cigarette in the ashtray. “For justice? For a better tomorrow?”
You shrug. “Just because.”
Instead, Javier scowls. “Without any purpose, reason? ‘Just because’?”
“Not everything needs a reason, Javi.”
He doesn’t fight you on it. He simply looks at you, his eyes sneaking the occasional glance at your thigh, and gulps. His head is spinning, the room is much hotter all of a sudden.
“We need reasons to go on, don’t we?”
His voice is breaking in the slightest, and it makes your heart ache so.
“Some of the best things in life don’t have a reason behind them,” you try to reassure him.
“Oh yeah? Like what?”
“Do you think people fall in love for a reason?”
A tricky question, but Javier is smart, and deep down he knows why you ask.
“No,” he responds. “I think it just happens.”
“See? A lot of good things happen without reason.”
“Alright. No argument there.”
You hide your smile as you finish the last of your cigarette. Some of his Texan accent slips in and it charms you as it always does. You rise from the armchair, headed for the kitchen. Javier follows, his eyes hungry and darkened. You pretend you don’t notice for the sake of the game because you know where things are inevitably headed.
What you don’t know is how things will progress.
“Whiskey?” you offer, and he instantly nods.
It’s his favorite, and one of your personal favorites too. You know it warms him up and makes his blood boil in his veins to the point where he craves a way to release all the tension.
“Have you ever fallen in love?” he asks.
How bold of him, you chuckle to yourself. If you play the cards right, you could offer a smooth answer that might tickle his curiosity. Why give the best away?
But again, Javier is smart. As everything has a reason for him, this question has its intentions laid out before you as well, only concealed in a very innocent manner. Maybe he craves to hear something flattering, something that would soothe his nerves and erase his melancholy and inner conflict, but he isn’t sure how to go about it.
“Maybe,” you reply with a coy smile.
Javier chugs his whiskey, placing the glass on the counter and approaching you with the same hungry eyes.
“Thirsty, are we?”
Javier shrugs, moistening his lips. “You don’t know the half of it.”
The smile on your lips stays longer this time, paired with flattery and heat from the drink you also chug. With Javier, you always need a little preparation to keep yourself calm.
“Have you ever been in love, Javier?”
“Once or twice.”
“Better than most.”
He’s so close to your face now that his warm, whiskey and nicotine-infused breath is tickling your nose. You stare at him, waiting and pleading for more, an insatiable hunger nesting in your belly.
And the key to its ignition is right before you.
One of his large hands goes around your waist to pull you in, the feeling of skin on silk maddening enough. He looked you over from head to toe, slowly undressing you of your robe. He lets it slide down your shoulders and draws in a quick, sharp breath upon seeing your silky nightgown.
“You could easily kill me one day, cariño,” he whispers as if in disbelief.
There it is. That little pet name that burned your whole being by simply being spoken in his husky voice.
“Honey, I wouldn’t dream of that,” you reassure him and caress his stubbly cheek.
His lips are on yours in an instant, hands rubbing your sides tenderly. You feel the tension in the way he kisses you, how it resides in his whole body in spite of his efforts to seek relief. You sigh brokenly as his lips travel to your neck and he pushes you into the granite counter, spreading your legs to make room for him to grind in between them.
The throbbing in your cunt weeps and aches and you squirm in his strong arms, your hunger only increasing.
“Javi—“
He licks a spot on your neck that triggers a moan out of you and spurs him on. You need this as much as he does, and you figure whatever crisis he’s going through, you can at least provide some physical comfort to him.
He spreads your legs further and lifts your nightgown enough to expose your pretty pussy, and suddenly you throb even more.
“Commando, huh?” he teases. “Were you waiting for me, by any chance?”
“You know I always do.”
He lowers himself to pepper kisses on your inner thighs, working his way up to your pussy, giving a tentative lick from your overly sensitive bud all the way down. You moan and reach for his hair, tugging with desire.
“Javi—“
He starts working against your clit, a wet and rather loud pop of his lips on your soaked ones. You feel a smile breaking from his lips along with the faint tickle of his stubble and you smile in pure bliss already.
“Easy, cariño,” he tells you in between wet kisses. “I got you.”
You can only moan at this point, and then he starts to really eat you out.
With Javier, everything’s a mission; he leaves nothing to his broken faith, so he seeks to do what he knows he’s good at. Obscene slurps emerge from in between your legs, with Javier’s face utterly buried there. It was far better than whatever late night snack you might’ve planned to have, and the same could be said about Javier.
Fast paces breaths leave your throat as Javier’s tongue dips in and out of you, up and down and in any possible way he can think of. The sounds emerging from you work as a terrific stimulant for him, so he dares add a finger to his ministration, starting to stretch you out. You moan louder, much to his delight.
“You don’t want the whole town to hear us, do you, cariño?” he asks sweetly.
“I don’t care—I don’t care—oh, fuck—“
He adds a second finger, carefully stretching you out and listening to your sounds to make sure you’re okay. When he sees your head thrown backwards and feels your hand tugging his hair tighter, he smiles. Son of a bitch actually smiles, knowing he’s doing the right thing in getting you nice and wet for him.
He pumps his fingers in and out of you at a faster pace, growing harder with each passing second, but so desperate to feel you cum that he’s close to spilling himself in his jeans, like a pathetic fucking teenager.
“You’re doing so good, cariño,” he encourages you. “So good… do you want to cum on my fingers? Hm?”
“Yes—yes, please, I do—“
You’re running out of breath already as you’re moving your hips forward to meet with more of his head.
“Can you make it a good one for me?”
“Mhm—“
“Go on. Fuck yourself on my hand.”
You do just that; you rock your hips to the best of your abilities to meet his fingers pumping in and out of you for a few more seconds till you come with a muffled cry of his name, almost ripping his hair out from how hard you’re tugging.
Your whole body is flushed with his presence and the aftermath of that climax. Javier’s fingers leave your swollen cunt and, just as he meets your eyes, he takes them to his mouth and thoroughly sucks on them, his eyes never leaving yours.
“You taste so fucking good,” he tells you.
“Javi.”
“Yes?”
“Would you please fuck me already?”
He giggles, a childish, playful sound that brings happiness to you.
“If you ask so nicely,” he teases.
“You’re the one who came to me.”
“Guilty as charged.”
You bite your lower lip, getting down from the counter. One of the best things about sex with Javier is that, no matter how sweet and romantic or rough and needy, it always leaves you feeling dirty. The feeling lingered.
He unexpectedly picks you up and carries you to your bedroom, making sure to turn off the light on your way there. After all, you wouldn’t want anyone drawing the wrong conclusions if they saw that old truck parked there and a light inside the house.
Then again, hiding is one of your fortes.
The only light now is the moon breaking through the glass windows, and it’s more than enough. You fall underneath him on the bed, the slickness of your cunt growing to be almost uncomfortable. Your legs wrap around his waist on their own accord, making his mission of undressing more difficult. You feel him hard against your stomach and you shudder.
“You feel that?” he asks from the crook of your neck. “You feel—how hard you get me? Every—fucking time.”
“You know how to flatter your women.”
He lifts his head, a few stranded locks of hair bouncing from his forehead as he looks down on you. “There’s no women, plural. It’s only you.”
You hold your breath, begging your mouth and your heart to not accidentally spill something that might drive him away.
So you struggle to pull the nightgown over your head, but Javier stops you. Instead, he breaks from you only to remove his jeans and underwear. Looks like he’s going for practical and needy tonight.
He smells of alcohol and cigarettes and cologne, as per usual, but he also smells like… him. Your unspoken safe haven wrapped up in a musky, earthly scent.
Javier takes himself in hand, giving himself a few preparatory strokes under your studious eyes. He can tell you’re enjoying the show, maybe as much as he does, but it hurts to touch himself like this. It hurts when you’re right there, legs spread and your pretty pussy glistening for him, waiting.
Finally he guides himself to your entrance, his weeping tip barely touching your soaked lips, and he moans.
“Fuck,” he exhales. “Fuck, I could cum right now like this…”
“That’s fine.”
“N-No, I need—I need to feel you—from inside out.”
You both gasp as his cock pushes past your soaked lips, slowly filling you up to the brim, just the way you both liked it. One hand goes around his neck to pull him down for a hasty kiss as he gives a first thrust.
“Oh God,” you moan.
“He’s not here right now. Only me.”
“Only you.”
It’s your reassurance to him that, indeed, there is no one else for you. Come to think of it, you’re not sure there ever was anyone else. Your mind and body carry all of his touches, all of his kisses and warm breaths.
He starts moving, and it’s not rough or fast because of the lack of time. Not tonight. It’s intimate and passionate, but deep enough for you to feel every single thing. He’s throbbing wet right there inside of you, each sharp snap of his hips bringing you closer to nirvana. Your moans get mixed up, coming out as a singular shaky one. He’s kissing you messily as his hips fall apart into yours, your bodies rocking against one another.
You feel so full, so heavy and cared for that the burn in your lower belly arrives faster than you might’ve anticipated.
“J-Javi—Javi, I think I’m—“
“Yes—yes, that’s it. Cum all over me, that’s right—you’re doing so good, cariño.”
“Fuck, I’m so—close—“
“Cum on me, give it all to me… you got this, you’re so good—so fucking good and perfect—and warm—“
And mine.
But he doesn’t finish that thought out loud. He’s too afraid to say it, even after all that time, and even with you.
You’re both as loud as you can be by that point, and it doesn’t help that the window is open. But you can’t help it. There’s nothing in the world that could stop you from reaching that high.
You start to clench around him, and unbeknownst to you, Javier smiles like a madman. This is the best feeling in the world, being sheathed inside of you like he’s part of you. He starts to feel the thrill of his own climax fast approaching and he fucks into you faster. The only sounds are ragged breaths, the nearly violent slap of skin on skin and the endless stream of yes, yes, yes coming from you.
You cry his name when you cum, nails digging into his still clothed back as his cock twitches inside of you, shooting his burning hot seed as deep as he can. You gush hot and wet around him and so does he. It’s a concoction of bodily fluids, quick breaths and sweet nothings whispered to each other. Sweat breaks down the navel of his back, his neck and temples, and he feels like he’s about to explode.
How the fuck is he still half hard? What kind of witchcraft are you pulling on him?
He doesn’t pull out. He’s barely moving, but he stays there. He’s afraid to even leave you. What would he be without you? He’s not sure. But maybe he’s not that broken when he’s around you.
“Still not enough?” you ask cheekily.
Ever the insatiable man, Javier. He smiles kinda shyly, like he doesn’t want to ask for anything more.
“Then let me take care of you,” you propose when he fails to talk.
“No, I—want to be inside of you.”
“That’s… where you are.”
“Need more.”
“So take whatever you want.”
“Can I?”
You nod, and his tongue moistens his bottom lip. You sure knew your way around him. It always went back to just how well you got him, how much you knew every scar, every navel and ridge of his body, every quirk of his.
He pulls out, grabbing your hips with strength and care alike as he turns you around. He gives your ass a big squeeze, followed by a few playful slaps, and again you shudder. He always molds the skin of your body like it’s playdough, kneading it between his calloused fingers with ease.
You moan out loud when he starts fucking into you again, this time from behind. His thrusts are no longer controlled; you gave him full control so he takes exactly what you give him. He’s downright railing you, his hands holding onto your hips as he reaches to the deepest part of you. You moan and grunt, unable to form any coherent thoughts.
“So—fucking good – “Javier mutters. “Fucking—perfect.”
He’s chasing his own high, selfishly so, and there’s something terribly hot about that. Even more so considering that he had asked for your permission. It was a lethal mixture, really, the sweet side of him that not many got to see, and the insatiable man who went after what he wanted.
There’s not much else said; soon, Javier’s haste is rewarded when his climax hits again, unexpectedly prompting yours. Surprised, Javier snaps his hips as fast as he possibly can in order to help you both, knocking all the air out of your lungs—and his, subsequently.
“You like this? You like—feeling me get so—fucking hard for you, all the time… and fucking you like this?”
“Y-Yes, Javi—“
He slows down, his hands arching your body all the way up so he can pepper messy kisses on your face, his cock still twitching inside of you, barely settling down. Your cheek is a little salty on account of your ragged, happy cry from your third climax. You feel him everywhere, in your whole body.
Then you both lay there, underneath the moonlight, with your needs sated, your head on his chest. Your mind resumes its furious pacing, but you don’t give it full control.
“You’re the best thing I have, you know that?”
Javier’s confession comes out of the blue and it almost shocks you. Although in retrospect, it probably shouldn’t. It’s not like you don’t know you each feel strongly about the other. It’s just never been verbalized.
And perhaps that was for the best.
“You got your family,” you remind him. “And don’t say something about me being family too because that would soil what we just did.”
He chuckles, moving a little so he can take a better look at you. His thumb sweeps across your cheek, then his lips find it and press a chaste kiss on the same spot.
“I don’t know if I believe in any mightier deity, but when I’m with you… pretty sure this is heaven.”
You smile, somewhat melancholic yourself. “Don’t try to butter me up.”
“If anything, I’d try to either liquor you up or spread some melted chocolate on you.”
“Ah, but you forget we did that one time.”
“Oh, right. Vegas.”
You both chuckle, with Javier pulling you in closer, wrapping his arms around you. He can feel your heartbeat as you rest against him, fast still, and he smiles, kissing on your forehead.
He might’ve not been religious, but you must’ve been some sort of angel who looks out for him in the best way she can.
And right now, that’s enough.
#Javier Peña#Javier Peña x reader#Javier Peña x you#Javier Peña fanfiction#Javier Peña fic#Javier Peña smut#javier pena#javier pena x reader#javier pena fanfiction#javier pena fic#javier pena smut#javier pena x you#narcos fanfiction#narcos smut#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal smut
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Sorry this is very sudden but I promise there was a lot of thought and consideration behind this for the last few years but I’ve decided from now on I’m using this persona to draw for selfship and stuff with, instead of Kumi… one based more off myself again.
When I first made Kumi i never thought I would form that kind of attachment to her but it just kind of happened. All throughout my years drawing, there has always been a consistent theme; drawing me, my cousins, my friends, and our fictional favs. When i was younger I always drew “myself” as someone else, projecting onto an OC that didn’t resemble me at all because its fun! It’s always just been for fun and disguising myself in my art has always been what’s most comfortable for me when it comes to “selfship”. I guess Kumi unintentionally became one of those, haha.
But over the last few years I’ve been having some rough times with Kumi and with my cousin’s shared story and feeling like I’m too obsessed with something that died a long time ago. Feeling like I need to move on too but wanting to hold on for old times sake, because it’s so special to me. But it doesn’t feel worth it anymore, it isn’t fun anymore and it makes me sad. I want to move on so I don’t start to associate something I love with something that makes me sad. But I still love my loves and wanna have fun drawing stuff with them again and with my friends, and I’m gonna do that through this persona, who is like literally just me…
I know it’s weird after all these years but I just feel it’s better to retire Kumi as just an OC for now. But she’ll still be around and I’ll still be drawing her if my cousin and I have new ideas together! But from now on I’m still gonna be smooching my favs but now with a little more freedom and authenticity and self love (also a lot of things will stay the same like, keeping my fav Pokemon and my ship name with Guz is still called Skullcandy, etc)
Anyway I’m sorry for this depressing ramble, I hope you understand. I know this sounds silly but the idea of self expression and selfship has always been really important to me, and I just wanna draw what makes me happy… Thank you for reading and thank you for loving my girl Kumi 💛
#my art#my boi#phoe speaks#a little of both#also hope i did the read more thing right i didnt wanna make the post too long and sad...#skullcandy
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GitS Asks!
It's all good ;P and no, not yet! He's been trying, especially with Ghost sleeping a lot more recently, but he has not yet succeeded. The problem is that Ghost can hear Don prepping the tagging gun.
Oh yeah. He regrets it a lot. Especially when Leo goes "well if you hadn't LEFT-" all dramatically. Leo's half-joking, but it really does just. Stab Ghost with guilt. He wishes he'd been strong enough to stay with them when they were younger. He could've helped Splinter a lot more, and they wouldn't have such abandonment issues now.
Ghost enjoys the absolute chaos coming from them even though he would never listen to this kind of music itself. Technically spoilers, but the boys don't actually tell Ghost that they're going to perform at Albeartoland. It's a very secret thing. Can you imagine the heart attack that man would have? It'd be insane.
He does. This is exactly why he printed out the pictures.
He's still a bit stubborn about it, but Ghost can get him to cave and admit fault pretty quickly.
Ghost has met them both! Dr. Delicate Touch he appreciates. It lets Mikey get out his anger, even though there's definitely kinder ways to put things, but Mikey generally pulls Dr. DT out when he's needed. Dr. Feelings, Ghost always gently puts his hands on his shoulders and tells him thank you for the reminders, but Mikey doesn't need to be the family therapist. He can help by being a little brother. Ghost will help them if they're having problems, as best he can, and they can talk about it as a family.
Mikey asks who's going to help Ghost with his problems, and Ghost just rubs his head and changes the subject.
Maybe one day Splinter accidentally leaves the manhole cover off as he's sneaking out for supplies. Maybe the kids followed him. Maybe Ghost is in the Hidden City, too far from his way home to get to them fast enough before they leave the safety net of his cameras.
He doesn't know what happened. He just knows that he finds only Mikey, hidden tucked away beneath a dumpster inside of his shell. Ghost pulls him out and coaxes him out and Mikey bawls and tells him that Leo and Raph and Donnie were taken by somebody.
Ghost takes Mikey back to the lair and is waiting there when Splinter arrives. There's a bit of panicking and yelling between the two. Splinter's scared Ghost has hurt his children, Ghost is angry at Splinter for being so careless. So begins Ghost's hunt.
Raph isn't easy to find, but he is the first purely because he's still on the surface. The EPF has him, and Ghost has been hunting for mentions of the EPF since he first saw youkai. He's never found any, but following what happened to the kids via camera shows Donnie and Leo being taken into the Hidden City while Raph was basically sold by a yokai in disguise to the EPF. It's been two months already.
Ghost doesn't use guns, but it's the first time he really thinks about it. Unlike usual, he has no plan. Instead, he goes in, mystic ability blazing out of pure rage and desperation. He finds Raph in a small cage, muzzled and whimpering in fear until he recognizes Ghost. Ghost gets the muzzle off, gets him out of there. Kills Bishop for good measure with Raph tucked into his cloak so he can't see.
He doesn't find Donnie for a year since they were grabbed. He doesn't have the power of technology in the Hidden City like he does above-ground. He gets him out of there. Leaves the Battle Nexus in ruins and Big Mama very dead.
Leo is with Draxum. Draxum is finding out he's terrible with kids. Leo is causing chaos wherever he goes. Draxum is fine with giving Leo back to be raised. He'll come back for him, though.
(I realized how long this was getting halfway through and went the more silly route with Leo fhgdkjfgdh)
Raph: may I present to you.... peepaw
Brothers: cheering wildly
Ghost: =.=
Surprise child you get gay depression instead!
These are fun thoughts fhgdkjfgh
Ah yes, approved and added fhgkdjf
Ghost can tell he's got self-worth issues. He doesn't approach it head-on, instead he's just trying to gentle push Leo in the right direction. He knows being a teenager is rough. Especially with how their lives are. But he also doesn't want Leo wallowing in that mindset for too long.
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drainiandream asked:
It suddenly just hit me rereading chapter 27 that Ghost actually holds himself to a much higher standard than he does his own Splinter, even in hindsight. Like he always speaks about his own father in the highest esteem, and clearly doesn’t hold any blame or resentment toward him for “letting” them lose a good chunk of their childhoods to fighting otherworldly threats. Despite how much it clearly hurts him, he’s never entertained the idea that 03 Splinter was at fault for any of it (as he shouldn’t, tbh! 03 Splinter is fucking phenomenal in terms of parenting in any series with kid/teenaged heroes that have one present. I can’t actually think of another cartoon in general that had an informed parent in the loop that still did everything he could to protect them/wasn’t weirdly okay with child endangerment due to cartoon logic)
And yet despite him clearly understanding this about his own father (or at the very least not allowing himself to look back critically on the people he’s lost), he clearly thinks he should be able to do better. The one unwavering thing about Ghost is his desire to keep the boys as just kids enjoying kid things. He’s still trying to hold onto that hope that he can do it even now, despite the piling warning signs that he’s in over his head (they all are). He blames himself when the kids worry about him or get into trouble he can’t prevent. Unfortunately for him, it’s a universal constant that the reason they become heroes/save the world is simply because they’re the only ones who can.
It’s honestly a really interesting and potentially painful realization, if he ever has it. He resembles his father so much without even realizing it, and is going through the exact same emotional struggle 03 Splinter did during the series. Hell, it’s probably the one common ground (besides love for their sons) that he and Rise Splinter will have now as things get progressively more dangerous.
I just. Man Ghost’s Splinter would be so proud of him today and no one in the Riseverse can even tell him that.
Ghost is incredibly hard on himself. He's depressed! He's got anxiety! Spending 24 years alone meant that all those bad thoughts were never interrupted. Everything negative he ever thought of himself was never interrupted, it just compounded on itself over and over until it was no longer a bad thought to him but the truth.
03 Splinter would be so proud of his son. He would be sad he never tried to reach out for company in a world where he could have (in the Hidden City) when they came from a world where they couldn't. He'd be sad that Ghost is torturing himself when it wasn't his fault.
Rise Splinter's the only one who could tell Ghost that his father would be proud of him, but coming from Splinter, it feels cruel. So Splinter says nothing, and Ghost continues to punish himself.
HEHEHEEE I'm glad you enjoyed it!! :D It's still so wild to me that people talk about GitS in real life. Or like. Not to me? Like this is a weird thought process I know but hear me out; the fact that people like something of mine enough to talk about it to their friends or partners or family is insane. Like. Holy shit. You're spending time and energy to talk about something that I spent time and energy making??? w i l d.
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sugar coated brain (the fluid ain’t to blame): unraveling Conor Aurelian
I don’t know if this is me admitting to have read embarrassingly little in terms of Actual Books since I turned 18 but. Wow. I loved sword catcher, and for once I was there eating up the plot rather than only relating to the characters so much I was obsessively hoping for a happy ending for them.
I’ve said before that sword catcher was good, so good it’s almost above fandom discourse (like a Beethoven symphony perhaps, you think twice before making arrangements of a masterpiece like that) but even the best symphonies deserve, actually they’re honoured by, critical analysis of the phrasing and melodies and that which are used. And this is a Cassandra Clare book after all. The beauty comes from beautifully (read: realistic, somehow more human than real humans idk I’m blown away every time) constructed characters, and then from the plot. Which was character-driven and so, so delicious, but we’re not talking those kind of spoilers this early in the game.
While I’ll admit that Kel was the most relatable character, followed by Lin or maybe Ana, there were some things about Conor that just cut a little too close in ways I hadn’t thought about in years. Taking me back to some worldbuilding of my childhood, a ‘reluctant princess’ I came up with based on feeling trapped and overprotected and that fantasy world has long since been archived in my head and it’s entertaining to think this weird kid in western sydney who didn’t get to run quite as wild as some of the other kids (but still did get to run quite wild) felt like that when we were the furthest thing from royalty. I didn’t expect to be reminded of that in an adult fantasy book, but here we are, and I’m being entertained to see all the different takes on Conor: some driven to fascination, some to annoyance, and somehow in the 5 of us who’ve actually read sword catcher already everything in between.
But let’s be real for a second: who hasn’t heard the ‘oh you can’t be depressed you have everything you need’ and been like. Really hurt by it?? Who hasn’t sat among know it all adults in their younger years who would just judge the hell out of other young people who supposedly ‘never got to hear no’ and now they have ‘no resilience’ and ‘no wonder they’re having problems’? Referring to people you actually relate to and thought, well this definitely isn’t a safe space to be vulnerable I’ll just suffer in silence? I’ve grown up enough now to see Lin’s trauma behind the way she says this about Conor but part of me is still a little mad at her. As for Conor?? He’s everything I’d expect from someone in his position and I actually don’t think the majority of it comes from ‘never hearing no’ and ‘getting everything he wants’ but rather the things that those try to make up for: a lack of real autonomy over his life, not being allowed to feel Normal Child Feelings, having no one he can relate to and see as an equal, a heavy burden of responsibility before he was ever old enough to understand it, and the many levels of fuckery that’s all done to his parents making them not just emotionally unavailable but frivolous, trying to maintain their own autonomy and connection doing silly little rich people hobbies that just make the divide between and resentment of them vs Every Other Person greater (constant stargazing or Decoration and Control). Sugar-coated brains: how could they not be when everything revolves around you but there’s so little you can actually do but pursue the pleasure you’re told you’re entitled to?
I didn’t expect to be this mad at the royal family culture within SC but when I look back on it I’m not surprised. Not when the setting of the book is on the edge of a revolution, the unraveling of a society that feels so much like today and allows me to zoom out in a way that makes my little revolutionist heart happy. But oh, the angst and the bad decisions as the world teeters on that razorblade. The lives that are lost in the fray. I don’t know what’s happening in our world now but after Cast Long Shadows and an arc I know that she’s proud of (our dear Matthew Fairchild) I do trust Cassie. And in the meantime I’ll let her convince me of what I already know: the lives of nobility are simply pawns in a much bigger game no one (except maybe Ana) knows how to take the reins of, and the life of a pawn, no matter the luxuries, is a sorry life indeed.
This little revolutionist brain of the 2000s had one thing right, and I feel vindicated to see it in such clarity here: the relationship between social class and genuine connection. From the stark contrast of the opening with Cas and Kel, even also Mari and Lin, against the disaster that is the royal family, it couldn’t be clearer to me: when you’re nobody, when there are no expectations of you, you can be who you really are. Maybe not in the eyes of the authorities, and that’s an important distinction to make, but there’s no need to pretend around your nearest and dearest and sometimes that’s worth so much more than hypothetical safety. Because yes you can get away with things when you’re rich but you’ve also got more people trying to assassinate you for who you are specifically rather than just running the risk of getting killed because you’re unlucky and too unimportant for anyone to think you’d be missed. When you’re royalty (or just have parents with really high expectations or are a gifted kid even) you’re given a mold to grow into and no one really asks if that’s who you really are: why would they, when their worldview depends on you being exactly who they want you to be? So if you’re not it you pretend and even with those, like your children, who are close enough to see behind the ruse, you never quite show them who you really are either. You can see how that would drive one insane. You showcase that the only way to exist is to mask until you snap, or lose the ability to be yourself at all. Which leads me to the second type of sugar coat.
(And I’m quoting songs as my inspo behind this post as always, title quote is empty wallets by 5sos and I’m about to move onto sugar coat by little big town aka the band with an irl fairchild in it): this sugar coat is politeness and etiquette. There’s a quote somewhere in Kel’s narration I believe that I can’t find but basically views social etiquette and the like as you know. War strategy or something, which is another little segment of the reminder it’s cassie writing this and there’s a lot of accidental neurodivergence, or neurodivergence existing in a world so very different to ours, because that’s a very neurodivergent way of viewing it imo. And in this case, the sugar coat is like a constructed mask you spend your whole life trying to perfect, wear it as it’s handed down from your predecessors: in Conor’s case, lilibet (passed down from my mum, she wears it so well, put it on my shoulders said it’s colder out there than you think/would I recognise myself, would anybody else, if I took the damn thing off and burned it up?) who does make the frivolity and politics of being queen into her whole personality. She’s equally a pitiable and annoying character for that.
But as for Conor? He’s a Cassandra Clare Created (TM) young man. Of course he can’t quite manage this kind of sugar coat business. The politeness, the etiquette, the little social dances: he longs for real connection (and now we’re back in empty wallets territory, get you high when I’m high, so we see eye to eye: to me this sums out how he makes connections with those who are nowhere near his equals but he wants to have some sort of equal footed connection with: Kel and *[redacted minor spoiler, see below cut]). He’s snapping from the pressure of it, and that’s exactly the kind of driving force for the narrative Cassie uses excellently. We see him coming undone, and hate it (or at least I do) but hope maybe, maybe it’s the path for liberation for him from the life that’s obviously making him (more) depressed (than he otherwise might be), and as the audience we don’t care if the kingdom burns down for this, as long as it doesn’t cause too much collateral damage. And we know it’s going to be a wild ride to get there.
I don’t reckon this is obvious to everyone else but it is to me, with my experience of Christianity and life and just everything that if you’re a leader in any way, you’re a better leader for being liberated in yourself, having autonomy and appropriate boundaries and Conor has none of that and he’s coming undone and yes there’s a lot of other characters (who I will post about later) with their own arcs and A LOT going on (seriously it’s so deliciously complex and so much more so than tsc ever was with maybe the exception of tec which is kind of adult fantasy anyway). But oh. She really knows how to deliver, all through the first book and I can’t wait to see what the next one has to offer!! And to me the characterisation of Conor is just proof on how expertly the whole world of Castellane and it’s stories is being carried out.
BIG GAP CAUSE CUT ISNT WORKING
*and Lin later on, kind of
tagging: @daisymylove and feel free to mention anyone who might like it in comments/reblogs!
#sword catcher#cassandra clare#conor aurelian#I TRIED SO HARD TO MAKE IT UNSPOILERY#and genuinely don’t think it is?!?#not spoilery#I checked again#sword catcher deep dives#<-is that a new tag I see?
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Ingo's Child Gets Sent to Hisui Alone
dear pls for the love of god let this be formatted right
cw: Heavy angst and depression
Ingo ▲
Your birth parents were casual friends of both Ingo and Emmet in school as all of them grew up in Anville town. They kept in touch here and there; but, like all things, their friendship faded with time. Ingo hadn’t thought of either of your parents in awhile.
That is, until, he catches wind of their passing.
It was a sudden workplace accident that had taken them both away. You were only 8 months old at the time. You never even got the chance to know, much less remember, your parents. The story was set up to be tragedy, with you orphaned and posed to go into foster care–well, not if Ingo can stop it.
It was a hard process for a single man, but Ingo eventually succeeded in adopting you. With his job, he knew he could support you and make you feel loved. Every child deserved that. You deserved that.
The first time he held you, he felt overwhelmed. How could he think he could ever do this? How could he ever be a father? But when you looked up at him with that silly, toothless smile, all doubts flitted away in the wind.
You grew up in Gear Station surrounded by the bustle of people, Pokémon, and trains. The Deerling your birth parents had raised for you never left your side, always trotting around your legs as you maneuvered through the platforms and through the cars.
As you got older, Ingo came to you first to let you know who your birth parents were and what they were like. He told you stories about them from when he, your parents, and Uncle Emmet were younger in Anville. Deerling always seemed to perk up when hearing Ingo speak about them.
While he was the one who told you first about your adoption, you always took the time to reassure all his doubts in raising you.
“I feel like you were meant to be with me, dad. I’m glad it’s you.”
Ingo wouldn’t consider himself to be an emotional person, so he took your affirmations the best he could.
So he bursted into tears.
How did he get so lucky? Having a child like you? What did he do to deserve you? How did he raise you so well?
When you were a little older than a toddler, Ingo moved into a separate apartment from Emmet to have more room for you (he was still in the next apartment over, so nothing really changed at all).
Uncle Emmet helped you a lot growing up, he was a major staple in your life. But Ingo was a great father on his own.
While he established the rules he felt needed to exist, Ingo gave you the freedom you wanted and proved you deserved. Ingo trusted you wholeheartedly. How could he not?
You are the light of his life. He loves you so very much.
You were responsible, kind, and followed all the necessary safety checks when needed.
So…how did this happen, then?
How did he find himself staying at the station until midnight, not being home for your curfew at 10 like he said he would? How did he get so distracted with the upcoming maintenance that he didn’t even bother to message you how the movie went with your friends? How did he not register that you hadn’t even sent him one update message?
How did he walk home with Emmet so leisurely without a care in the world that something might be wrong? How did he part from his brother at their side-by-side doors and enter your apartment without even bothering to call out for you?
Ingo didn’t think twice about anything. You always came home on time, went to bed at a reasonable hour, and cleaned up after yourself. That’s why every light in the apartment is off, right? That’s why it’s so quiet in here–you must be sleeping.
But then Chandelure forced itself from Ingo’s pokéball, lavender flames swaying in the darkness. It sang one of its eerie songs and floated its way over to your door before using its abilities to turn your doorknob and made its way into your room. This was…uncharacteristic for Chandelure.
Ingo felt an unprecedented way of vertigo come over him.
“Chandelure, what are you doing? They’re trying to sleep.”
Ingo tried to whisper but his voice was naturally too loud. He stood in place. Something felt very wrong in his chest, like he couldn’t breathe correctly.
“Chandelure?”
No response.
He took a tentative step forward, the sound of his shoe on the wooden floor rang out in the silent apartment. Ingo felt he was suffocating.
He called your name. Still nothing.
Your room was filled with a bright blue and purple light, Chandelure’s song turning into cries and screeches.
Ingo doesn’t think he’s ever run so fast in his life.
He entered your room to find Chandelure burning the brightest he’s ever seen, flames flickered in and out of control. The Pokémon’s face contorted into one of misery, tears evaporating off its surface before they could truly fall.
You’re not there.
It only took one sweep of Ingo’s eyes to realize that there was no sign of you ever entering the apartment. No spare key on the coffee table, no pair of shoes by the door, no coat on the coat rack, no Deerling anywhere.
Chandelure’s ghostly sobs caused Emmet to bust open the door, and Ingo’s ashen face and frantic searching of rooms caused him to call the police.
Your Deerling is found rather quickly, albeit halfway across Nimbasa. It was confused, tired, and terrified–like it had seen something it wasn’t supposed to see.
They don’t find you with it, however.
Your Missing Persons Report blows up online, and it seems everyone in Nimbasa, hell, everyone in Unova, is looking for you. Nobody succeeds.
Over time, the world reminds Ingo of the facts behind your absence.
“Hey, Ingo, 94% of recovered children are found within 72 hours. Any sign of your child yet?”
“20 percent of the children in non-family abductions are not found alive. I hope they’re doing alright, if they’re even still out there.”
Shut up already–he knows.
He knows that every goddamn day you’re not found that the probability of you being found dead in a ditch goes higher and higher.
He knows that the likelihood of you coming back at this point is so very low. It’s just as low as his chance of speaking to you again, holding you again, loving you again.
He knows.
For the love of Arceus, Ingo knows.
That acknowledgement is the reason why he spends his waking hours pouring over every security tape in the city, every resource on legendary Pokémon, every book on ancient theories, every speculation on knowledgeable Pokémon in hopes that he will learn something–anything–about where you are.
He prays to gods he doesn’t believe in. He makes promises he can’t keep. He tries to sell away his soul. He bargains everything that he is for a chance to know what happened to you.
Nothing works. You’ve left him with nothing but a lonely house, far too many memories, aching grief, and a Deerling he can’t bring himself to face.
A little less than a year after your disappearance, Ingo gives in. He can’t keep working at the station with false hope in his head, he can’t keep battling while thinking of you walking onto his line, he can’t keep existing while believing you’re out there somewhere.
Your funeral is held on a sunny summer day.
Ingo doesn’t know if he spoke a single word during the whole affair. He doesn’t know how to speak when the weight of his emotions presses onto his chest so heavily.
He stands side by side with his brother once the funeral ends, unmoving from this spot in the cemetery. Ingo’s silver eyes don’t waver from the freshly dug ground.
Your coffin is empty.
Ingo moves out of that apartment and across the city rather quickly. He can’t bear to be in that home anymore–the one you left cold and sorrowful. He doesn’t care that his new location forces him on a much longer path to the station; he would add hours and hours upon his departure time if it meant he never had to walk that same path ever again.
He spent so many days walking you to and from school along those streets. Ingo believes he can ever go back there again. So he doesn’t.
Emmet moves in with Ingo again out of concern for his older brother’s mental health as well as his general safety. Emmet has lost you, he will not lose Ingo too.
Ingo is not as loud anymore. It’s not like he doesn’t try to be, but his theory is that he damaged his vocal chords from all the sleepless nights he spent wailing for you to come home. There’s never enough silent nights for them to ever heal.
He becomes much more jaded and standoffish. His frown is even more permanent now, and he lacks the patience to handle any rogue passenger in the subways with a tactful nature.
Ingo is much less responsible now. He misses meals, showers less, and skips work. Emmet is there by his side every day to help pick up the slack, but Ingo’s apathy remains.
He has nightmares about you. They’re filled with all of the horrible things that might’ve been done to you, filled with all of the evil things that could’ve taken you from him, filled with all of the cruel things that may have killed you.
But he dreams of you far more often.
Sometimes the dreams are simply reliving past memories once more. Sometimes they're in his perspective, sometimes they're in yours.
Other times, however, he just speaks to you in these dreams. You tell him you’re doing all right, that you’re in a different place now and you still think of him all of the time, that you’ve caught so many new Pokémon and met so many new people.
“I have these two friends Q̸̖͊W̴̺̒R̴͙̽ḣ̸̟b̸̠̾Ẇ̵̡F̴̮̓ṵ̸͒D̷̠͝Q̷̰̾o̴̪̚≠̤͌ and S̷͚̆X̸̱̃J̶̻̄p̷̄͜Z̷̮͛G̷̢̀E̶̟͛≠̞́ who help me a lot. They stand up for me and care for me a ton. You would really like them both, dad!”
Consciousness is a rude reminder that none of what he dreams is real. You’re not real anymore. You’re gone. Gone gone gone.
After every dream, he wakes up to the phantom feeling of your hands in his. It never gets better.
He develops secondary hypersomnia due to habits. All he ever wants to do is sleep, it’s the only time anymore than he feels close to you again.
Before the two year anniversary of your disappearance, your Deerling just…leaves.
This shouldn’t have been a surprise, however. Ingo avoided Deerling like the plague. Every time he looked at the season Pokémon he just saw the failure of him as a father instead of the Pokémon partner of his child. He should’ve seen this coming.
So he watches it from the window of his room, orange fur shining in the autumn sun, trying to sneak away from the house and into the outskirts of town.
And all Ingo can do is just watch.
He watches as the last living remainder of his child leaves him behind.
Ingo never realized a human being could feel so low, could reach this level of rock bottom. But he does now.
Emmet and Elesa try to help him. They tell him over and over that they love him, that his Pokémon love him, that everyone in Nimbasa loves him. It doesn’t help. His depression is rotting him away in this shell of what he was.
Love never stopped decomposition.
But then, on the first day of the following spring, there is something waiting for him at the steps of Gear Station.
There’s a Sawsbuck standing there. Your Sawsbuck.
It has the richest brown fur, most elegant legs, and the largest set of winding antlers Ingo’s ever seen. They’re covered by cherry blossoms, each stained with morning dew and sparkling in the rising sunlight.
Sawsbuck looks strong. Assured. Revitalized. Reborn.
Ingo’s emotions anchor him in place. He reaches for the brim of his hat and pulls it down to cover his whimpering expression.
He hasn't felt so much relief or joy since you left him.
Sawsbuck uses its snout to push up Ingo’s chin, forcing him to make contact with your Pokémon.
With equally weepy eyes, Sawsbuck stares at Ingo. And your father hears the message it’s trying to portray loud and clear.
‘Heal. You’re allowed to move on and heal yourself. You deserve to be happy.’
And he does.
It’s a slow process, but Ingo begins to accept your passing.
He allows himself grace, he allows himself to mourn and to visit your grave, he allows himself to cry when he needs to, and he allows himself the help that his loved ones extend to him.
His Pokémon help him too. They help him get back into battling at full strength again, they help him sleep soundly when he’s supposed to and keep him focused when he’s supposed to be awake.
Ingo heals.
A little more than two and a half years after your disappearance, there’s a sudden noise that rips through the sky like baritone thunder. But the sky is clear and sunny–save for the twisting spherical cyclone that appeared from the tear in space.
It’s right outside Gear Station, and Ingo knows he is the closest, most-experienced trainer to help deal with this phenomena. He makes his way to the distorting storm, most of the people had begun to evacuate once it appeared.
After a moment of waiting with his palm readied on his pokéballs, the distortion crackles and immediately peeters out into nothing.
You are the only thing left remaining.
You’re taller than he remembers. You look older and more mature, too. Your hair is longer than it used to be and you’re wearing odd-looking clothes. A long red scarf flows away from your neck in the lingering winds of the distortion. You’re dressed in clothes with personal stitching on them, every part of your outfit seems tailored to fit you exactly.
But you’re still you. Undeniably you.
Ingo cries out your name, sounding like the weight of the world was just removed from his shoulders for the first time in centuries.
He immediately tries to run towards you, but his legs keep shaking.
It’s as if his body can’t believe what he’s seeing is real, so he stumbles and stutters and runs like a baby Girafarig learning to walk.
If you recognize him, just the sight of his silver eyes brings you to your knees. For the first time in years, you allow yourself to be vulnerable, to be weak.
“Dad…?
Your voice dies on your throat. Tears brim your lashes and you reach out quaking hands towards your father. There’s a sob brewing in your chest, waiting to be released.
Ingo falls to the ground when he meets you. He takes you in his arms so softly and so gingerly that you don't know how you survived this long without his love.
He buries his face into your neck and weeps, one hand running over your hair with the other twining his fingers with yours.
Ingo holds you so gently because he’s afraid you’re going to dissolve into sand in his arms, like you’ll fade away like you did every night in his dreams.
But you don’t because you’re here. You’re alive.
“Please don’t ever leave me again, my child. I don’t think I could bear it.”
If you don’t recognize him, your eyes go wide and you start to shuffle away from the Ingo out of fear. Your breath quickens and you feel set on edge.
Ingo stops moving. You’ve never been this quick to fear before. You were always so independent and strong, relying on yourself before straining others. Fearless and ambitious, ready to take on the world with nothing but a Deerling by your side.
But now? Now he can see the quivering in your fingers and the alarm in your expression. Why are you so sacred? What had made you this way?
He calls out your name again and you flinch at the noise, shaking your head as if to reject anything he said.
“Please stay away from me.”
There’s a gleam in your eyes that reaches into the darkest part of Ingo’s restless soul and squeezes it. It’s the worst pain he’s felt in years.
His legs give out and he falls to his knees. You have no idea who he is.
Ingo’s voice is cracking, and he can feel himself unravel and lose you again and again and again.
“My child…please, please tell me what frightens you. I’d give anything, just, please, let me help you.”
//
hey okay this was my first post, let me know if it was okay yes maybe? if you can spare a like, comment, or repost that would make me smile!! tell me if you want something like this for other characters or even emmet maybe :)) requests are open btw!! okay thx for getting this far <3
#pokemon x reader#pokemon imagines#ingo x reader#submas#pokemon#ingo#plantonic ingo x reader#pla#pokémon#pokemon submas#pokemon legends arceus#x reader#reader insert#pokemon ingo#dad ingo
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Hi Pink!
Music anon again. I'm sorry if I'm sending too many asks. But I was talking with my friend about headcanon and character core music and I found an interesting through line in my musical selections. Mostly that I see Blitzo as a lot of Pop and Rock with upbeat music and really depressing lyrics lol. But I think it was my discussion about Fizzarolli that was a bit more interesting.
Mainly because with Fizz I have two types of playlists for him, one pre-accident where it's more pop and rock, similar to Blitzo. Though I see them as being more like coming of age songs and love songs. Here (in your arms) by Hellogoodbye and Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol.
But post-accident Fizz I tend to feel is a lot more isolated emotionally. And I often vibe with his character more listening to rap and more guitar-heavy, country-esque songs. And I think it's because both country and urban cultures tend to be very wary of outsiders and I see Fizz as a very untrusting person after the accident. He's been exploited all his life, made to feel abandoned by the one person who meant anything to him, and now he's surrounded by even more powerful demons who will exploit him unless he plays the game right. Being very secretive, dishonest, untrusting, and manipulative.
Just a tangent I thought may be interesting. I know different people have different takes of Fizz.
My lovely music anon 🎶 I’m always happy to hear from you !
Love my hc that Blitzø listens to emo music as part of his angsty side. But he’s also the silly sunshine boy when he feels ok, he loves tunes like Cant Help Myself (sugar pie honey bunch) and he adores corny jazzy love songs. So while he outwardly looked rough and aggressive, inside he’s more peppy and fun than anyone would expect.
Fizz probably had a lot of insecurity but love for everyone around him, but never felt truly at home with anybody by his best friend. There was probably a lot of pining going on, he didn’t feel “good enough” to be part of a family of his own or a relationship of his own and even with Asmodeus he still doesn’t. So while he outwardly looks so happy and carefree he’s inside, deeply sad. They say sometimes the happiest funniest people have the most melancholy inside. Linkin Park is very much a Fizz band to me, sometimes I can picture him even singing the songs. Especially “somewhere I belong” - especially the part about letting go of pain, to heal, “I will never know myself until I do this on my own” and that’s why I was excited when he said he was entering mammons “this is for me” then was very let down when he said “i feel like if I lose this I lose you! (Asmodeus)” so it kindve encourages codependency there, and fixating your self worth onto your partner always loving you (that’s unhealthy, and explains his constant anxiety) Also, his reaction about having a stepdad in mammon and idolising him since he was five, shows me that as an orphan mammon is someone he projects parental love onto. This never goes addressed even once before it’s suddenly all resolved, which I was shocked by. So I think fizz’s abandonment issues go much deeper than Blitzø or Asmodeus.
If you really watch his behaviour with Ozzie in Oops it’s all him stretching the truth, cringing and minimising problems, begging for a certain outcome, lying outright, hiding the truth of their relationship in a magazine, from staff, and hiding his own pain, then saying “I hate going outside” but being sad when Asmodeus doesn’t say anything against that. When he was younger, he’d put on shows while blitzø is off doing something else. And never truly relaxing. Knowing that more drama is to come for him is just saddening. He just let his guard down. Showing more of his dishonesty. So you’re completely right! This type of sometimes angry sometimes anguished music that is guitar heavy and focussed on community is very him.
Really what I want from him most is to have a solid group of trustworthy friends his own kind, and closure about his parents. Not offscreen, but onscreen. And more insight about his rehabilitation and this “resilience” we’ve heard so much about.
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1, 6, and 13 for the soft asks 🩷☺️
Thank you for the asks little flame! 🤍
1. What song makes you feel better?
Hm, picking just -one- is tough but I guess it depends on what's bothering me in the first place if that makes sense! But, the song I typically go to is 'Can't Take My Eyes off You' by Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons.
I love 80s music [it's what my mother listened to most when I was a kid] and it kind of just stuck with me ever since.
6. Say three nice things about yourself [three physical and three non-physical.]
Oof, this is a tough one... I'm relatively hard on myself and tend to get down on myself for the littlest things but I'll do my best.
Physical things:
1. When I can get my hair to do what I want [wavy / curly hair probs] it makes me feel extremely good about myself. I used to hide behind my long hair, but cutting it short last year & again this year felt so freeing.
2. I find myself smiling real hard whenever I look in a mirror and see the splash of freckles across the apples of my cheeks. They're so faint [since they're caused by sunburn], but I still love them nonetheless.
3. Probably something tiny and silly but I love my Dimples of Venus! They're tiny dimples on the lower part of your back and something about them just enamored me ever since I noticed them.
Non-Physical things:
1. I'm so freaking proud of the perseverance I have. I've struggled most of my life with really bad anxiety, depression, OCD, etc. but the past few years I've actually spoken to a doctor and therapist and now I'm on meds to help me. I used to view these things as a weakness & thought people would look at me different if I told them I struggled with my mental health, but it doesn't bother me much anymore.
2. Younger me would be so happy that I've embraced who I am & it's something I'm happy about now. If you told me a few years ago that I'd be open about all the things I enjoy [like anime and how THIRSTY I am for fictional characters] I'd look at you like you're out of it. Now I don't mind & I'm happy it's getting me to meet people of similar interests.
3. Some days I don't feel too great about this one, but other days I do and that's my decision to no longer work in the anxiety inducing environments of retail or doctors offices or something else. Two years ago I decided to start a small business & while it has it's ups and downs I've been able to stay afloat from it.
13. What's your comfort food?
Baked ziti. Hands down. It's something my wonderful grandmother used to make whenever I would visit & the fact that I don't have her recipe hurts my heart every single day.
Sorry this was kind of long, I'm often told I'm long winded 🙃
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quick! tell me about the oc you're rotating around in your brain
AH.... well a big one would be Nova so we'll go with them
Unsurprisingly Nova is very much on the brain lately. I think I'm very happy with how they're shaping out so far :3 they're kind of taking /me/ in the direction they've gone because that's usually how it goes with my ocs. I planned things out for them starting off but most things just come to me in time and that's all Them talking baybee.
They're also the first aroace spectrum character I've focused this heavily on in a story and its really exciting! I'm very much Not aroace so I've worried previously about doing them justice but it's been really fun so far. Most of my stories also have heavy romance aspects (which I am 100% happy with idc how people feel about it) but that's very much a side thing in Nova's story and it's been a new and fun experience to write something that doesn't really heavily factor in romance. I've mentioned this before but they are also agender !
They're disabled (just as a significant amount of my ocs are) with having lost their right arm and also having a stutter. Which is also really fun to write :) I'm becoming more disabled physically as I get older so I think it helps me cope writing characters with disabilities.
They're a very friend and family oriented character and they love all of their friends to pieces. I initially thought Nova's relationship with Solanum would be purely platonic but I think it's more on the queerplatonic side the more I've developed their story.
They also love Hal so so much and their relationship in particular is also going in a direction I didn't initially plan for and it's just fun to see where writing Nova leads me and as I develop them these things come to me which is why I kinda say that they have control of the reins more than I do lol
They have a very big curiosity and desire to learn and explore but their fear of space really doesn't mix well with that. At some point though, they realize they are getting some joy out of learning things about the Nomai and everything else despite the grim circumstances they are stuck in.
It doesn't really show yet in what I've posted, but Nova really is just a little fella (gender neutral) and likes to be silly, especially with Hal. They just have a very big spiral into a bit of a depression with everything they experience in the events of the game. They got up to plenty of shenanigans and mischief with Hal when they were younger :]
They also like their marshmallows untoasted (which you do see in my stuff I've posted so far) and Hal would always tease them about it. It's a sensory issue thing
They're ambidextrous and it takes a lot of effort and relearning, but they pretty much gain full functionality back with their prosthetic arm
#nova my love#ty anon im always happy to have an excuse to talk about my ocs :>#outer wilds#oc: nova#miles rambles
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Back At The WIP List
Because I had some wild ideas but I forgot to write them down. One of these days I must get organizized.
Resist Psychic Death - Possessed Newt. :(
Like Cats and Dogs - Was supposed to be about getting a post-precursor possession emotional support pet. Inexplicably became non-Uprising-compliant lazy Sunday married couple sex fest, only it is becoming increasingly apparent that I'm never going to get to the sex. Scrapped.
The Tropes Nobody Asked For - A bodyswap AU. Comedy. Hurt/comfort.
I could be writing sweaty nerd sex like a normal person but no - Mostly a story about self-image. Angst. Fluff. There is no plot. Some kind of stream of consciousness BS. (Complete in the sense that anything can be complete given continuity of identity within linear flow of time.) It wasn't complete. Turns out I'm writing sweaty nerd sex but not like a normal person. Scrapped.
Decontamination Shower - A lab accident makes things weird. (Still not sure where I was going with this but now everybody's naked cute, so.)
Fear of Flying - A deep dive into my aerospace engineering special interest, technically includes a lot of hand-holding. (This one's really taking off.) (Oh no, it's stalled.) (These jokes are just plane bad.) Scrapped this one too.
Heating Pad - A cat adopts Hermann.
Thriller - The Shatterdome is kind of spooky at night.
Pillow Talk - There was only one bed, mistaken for dating, fake relationship. I almost had it, but I think the final chapter is going off the rails.
Miserable, Lonely and Depressed (Pathetic) - The return of Cool Uncle Newt. (He's not cool, he's possessed.)
Vampire AU - I mean obviously I had to write a vampire AU at some point. (Comedy.)
Whump - Was supposed to be about a car accident, but it turned into emotional hurt/comfort. With pie.
Some Days You Just Can't Get Rid of a Bomb - Newt tries to solve capitalism.
Retail Horror Stories - Newt and Hermann commiserate over the shitty jobs they worked when they were younger. (Maybe scrapped because honestly no one needs my nonfiction about MegaKaren.) Scrapped because people are gross.
The Graves Stood Tenantless - Comedy, it was SUPPOSED TO BE A COMEDY Death of a major character. 50k word novella about grief APPARENTLY. (Newt mistakes Crimson Peak for a romcom.)
Nightmares - Ghost drift bleeds into their dreams.
Cold as Ice - Hurt/Comfort? Something. Contains no hurt/comfort and has nothing to do with cold or ice, but...it's...something.
Newt's Passion - A sex pollen fic. (No, it isn't.) (Zom com.)
Other, Funnier Ghost Story - Will it be a comedy this time? Let's find out. It is a comedy but it's about vampires now. OH GOD. Not a ghost story, not remotely funny. Vampires, full horror. I'm tempted to resurrect my old pen name for this one. (Y.A. Gorefest, Jr.)
Fever All Through the Night - Sick fic. All comfort.
Consent is Sexy - A team-building exercise leads to certain confessions that would not be made while sober.
Some Sign to Pursue a Promise - Hermann overthinks everything. A story of missed connections. (Complete.)
The Moon Turned to Gold - Newt is desperate to impress his old classmates. Good thing he has this amazing new husband to show off. (A comedy.) (Zine fic!)
Cold as Ice 2: Alaskan Boogaloo - Does have something to do with cold and ice.
The Worst Thing I Can Possibly Imagine - My genuine attempt to work through something, but then I thought of a punchline so now it's a funny little shitpost.
Splash - A...feelings thing. The first tentative steps toward getting along.
Caffeine Blues - I swore I would never write a coffee shop au, but...
Fields of Azure - Newt and Hermann are sent on an outdoorsy team-building retreat with some rangers (possibly by mistake) and both turn out to be full of surprises. Pure fluff.
Stop You Have Enough WIPs - Some silly fluff for these stressful times.
Shoes - Newt's past catches up with him. Hermann is intrigued.
Groundhog Day - Hey man, these sci fi tropes exist for a reason.
Turning Cursive Letters Into Knives - I swore I would never write a soulmate au, but...
Newt and Hermann Go On Six Dates - I write fluff now 😊💖
Hermann Gets Shot - It is so dangerous to start a fight in an elevator when one of the people you're fighting has a gun.
Return to Sender - Newt leaves Hong Kong to work for Shao. Angst.
Find Me in the Drift - Some very disorganized ramblings that might be a sequel to Dinner With a Friend.
The Curse of Gottlieb Manor - In which I actually try to write horror on purpose, and give myself the most intense nightmares I've had in years. I'm toning it down for the actual story.
Dead Letter Office - Hermann's last letter comes back to haunt him.
Painting the Kitchen - About finding a future after the apocalypse is averted.
Total Eclipse of the Heart - Jake Pentecost doesn't trust Newt, decides to keep a close eye on him to guard Hermann's back, and accidentally ends up with two new dads.
Black and White Cookies - Birthday fluff.
A Kidnapping - Um...it's a kidnapping.
Wake Up, Dr. Jones! - More trauma.
Secret Santa - Christmas fluff.
Space Opera - When the first kaiju comes through the breach, Newt fires off a plea for help into deep space. There can't be just one alien race out there, right? Maybe some of them will be on our side.
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Good little wife
Note - Inspired by a request I got long ago and written for the happy hoelidays challenge I'm cohosting with my sister hoes @navybrat817 and @stargazingfangirl18 . I used the prompts two idiots in love + Character A loves Christmas. Character B hates it. A melts Bs cold heart Dividers by @firefly-graphics .
Summary - Your husband makes up to you for being a Grinch and a meanie to you throughout your marriage.
Warnings - 18+ only, smut(m/f), dub con, older man/younger woman, arranged marrige, leaking nudes, daddy kink, blood play, virginity/innocence kink, loss of virginity, virgin reader, painful sex, misogyny, mob activities.
Pairing - Mob!Andy Barber x reader
Word count - 8k
“You look beautiful, cookie,” your mother raved, pressing her lips to your cheek, “He’s a lucky man.”
You only hummed. Staring at your refection, seeing someone you didn’t even recognize.
Your white lace dress somewhat conservative, still really pretty, something you would’ve been more than happy to wear if your circumstances weren’t so depressing.
You almost let out a sardonic laugh, you didn’t get to choose your husband but at least you chose your wedding gown.
“It’ll be alright,” your mother picked at your hair, noticing your evident sadness, you’ve never been one to hide how you feel anyway, “you’ll learn to love him. He’s very successful.”
“I always thought ‘money doesn’t make you happy',” something she had said to you so many times over the years.
“That’s just a fairy tale. People fall out of love, run out of things to talk about, men cheat, in the end all that’s left is how well he can provide for you,” she stated.
You checked your phone as soon as you could, going through your messages to see if your boyfriend, or rather your now ex boyfriend, had sent you anything. You still naively hoped that he'd come on a white horse and sweep you off and away, so you wouldn’t have to marry someone you’ve else. So you wouldn’t have to give up your freedom forever and just be someone’s wife.
But you saw nothing. He hadn’t talked to you, not since your father found out about you both. Since he was from a family your daddy hated with a passion, and you were supposed to as well, your father made you cut all times with him. Locked you in your room in a timeout till you came to your senses.
After over three weeks he came to you, telling you how he was ready to forgive you and move on. You were so happy. For a minute you let yourself believe that this was your father, he loved you unconditionally, of course he'd set aside whatever vain feud he has and let you be with your love.
All your hopes were crushed when he told you he had selected a husband for you whom you have to marry in just a month. That you had to drop out of college since you wouldn’t need that degree anyway.
You always did believe that he had your best interests at heart, you wanted to believe it this time as well, but you just couldn’t.
Cringing inwardly when he kissed your cheeks, “You look beautiful,” he told you, cold eyes staring at you, “Don’t try anything stupid. Andrew is a good man,” he looped your arm in with his.
“He’s more than a decade older than me,” you argued, biting your lip as he squeezed your arm to warn you.
You slapped a fake smile on your face, walking down, one step after another as everyone looked at you in awe.
This is supposed to be the happiest day of your life...
But when you looked at Andy waiting for you at the alter you felt nothing but grave anxiety which made your teeth clatter, his palms joined together at his front, he did look handsome with his tux and neat beard. You have had a crush on him for a long time but you’ve never even had a real conversation with him, you didn’t know him. No one did.
Your heart filled with dread as your father handed you over to Andy, patting him on his shoulder, “Take good care of her.”
“I will,” Andy smiled.
You weren’t really there, maybe your body was but your soul had left you to maybe make the whole ordeal less painful. The priest read the vows asking you if you were ready to take him as your husband forever.
“I do,” since you had no other choice.
“I do,” he repeated.
You felt a shiver jolt up your spine when his fingers grazed yours, putting the thin silver band on your finger before lifting your veil to press his lips to yours, giving you a chaste, barely there kiss as everyone cheered you on.
The rest of the evening was a blur, you could barely register what had happened, everyone sweetly calling you ‘Mrs Barber’ only making you more nervous.
Andy however, was cordial and formal as always, shaking their hands and thanking them.
Since you hadn’t really taken any dance lessons you were left to simply wing it with him at your first dance. With your clammy hands in his you tried to match his pace as he lead you, bumping into his feet with yours more than once.
He leaned in to whisper in your ear, “Relax,” making you shudder.
You looked up at him, he had barely said two words to you but your grandmother often said ‘Eyes are the windows to the soul’.
And Andy’s eyes were so... kind, like a blue ocean you could happily drown in. He almost looked at you as if he were fond of you.
Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad...
You didn’t really expect Andy to carry you over the threshold, that was just a silly little fantasy you’ve always had and you knew he’d never indulge you in it but he didn’t even hold the door open for you.
You looked around his condo, so grey and boring, looked like it was out of a magazine catalogue, you felt so out of place there.
Naturally, you followed him to his bedroom, watching him wake his coat off, followed by his cuffs as he rolled his sleeves up.
You went over what you wanted to say in your head, how do you tell your husband that you’re a virgin, on your wedding night--that was something your grandmother never gave you advice on. You could’ve used her wisdom then.
With your mouth suddenly dry you tried to speak as he poured himself a drink, “Um... I’ve...”
“What?” he looked at you, quirking a brown brow up.
“Nothing,” you shook your head as you took a seat on the edge of the bed. “This is a nice house.”
“You can take the guestroom,” he said bluntly.
“What?”
“You can take the guestroom. I’ve already put all your bags there, you can decorate it however you like but don’t touch anything else.”
“But I...I’ve never heard of husband and wife sleeping in different rooms.”
“That’s true, it is unusual. This is not a normal marriage though, is it?” His tone so frustratingly patronising, as if he was talking to a child.
You’ve never really been appreciated for your mind, women never are--not where you come from, even your love Alex only ever thought of you as a ‘pretty face’. But Andy didn’t need to spell it out for you, “You... don’t want me...” you realised.
He only scoffed. He’d never been one for long term relationships, he had tried but he could never give himself to another person, women often called him emotionally unavailable, his demanding and dangerous job did contribute a lot to that, but more than that it was his unwillingness to change. He was self aware enough to know that but he didn’t need anyone else. He didn’t want to be tied down or to have a nagging immature wife.
“But why...” you wondered. Sure, you weren’t thrilled to marry him, but now you had accepted it and wanted to make the best of your new life. You thought he wanted the same.
“Why would I want you?” he spat. “ You’re nothing but a spoilt rich girl who’s had everything handed to her. Who was ungrateful and stupid enough to fraternize with the enemy.”
You let out a shaky exhale, looking at him with teary eyes, “I loved him...”
“You don’t know the first thing about love,” he rolled his eyes.
“He loved me too! But I’m willing to put that behind me. I made a vow to you.”
“You really don’t know, do you?”
“Know what?” you frowned.
He took his phone out of his pocket, opening his gallery to show you the compromising pictures you had sent to your ex, “He shared that with everyone, it was all just a ploy to humiliate your father.”
You gasped, taking his phone in your trembling hand, your breasts exposed as you shyly looked at the camera. You had flat out refused to send him a nude when he asked for it but then he threatened to break up with you, to go after your best friend, even called you a prude because you hadn’t slept with him. At the moment you felt as if you had no choice but to do it...
“He wouldn’t,” you sobbed.
“And because of your stupidity I had to marry you since no one else would ever want you,” he said. But then regretted it as you just started crying harder. He thought of maybe trying to console you but what would he even say?
He took the phone from you before you could even think of deleting the photos. He used them to pleasure himself almost every night. Maybe he was an idiot, he could have the real thing, yet he was pushing you away, “Go to your room,” he told you which made you sob even moreso.
You looked up at him, begging him for a hug, for some sort of comfort or sympathy but his face was cold and harsh. Finally gathering your wits you went to the other room, ready to cry yourself to sleep.
No matter how beautiful you were, you were still thrusted upon him, you didn’t love him, you never could because you never even had a choice
“Perfect,” you beamed, setting down the chicken pot pie you had just cooked up.
Your grandmama had always told you that a wife should be a cook in the kitchen and a whore in the bedroom. So that her man would never stray.
And while you hadn’t had a chance to be a whore for Andy... something that you were looking forward to, you hoped the fresh home cooked meal, the holiday season and decorations you had spent the past few days working on would put him in the mood. To maybe accept you as his wife.
For the past six months you had tried everything, making him breakfast, packing his lunch, offering him massages, even trying to help him with his work but he was always so cold to you.
You feared that this is how it will be forever. He would never love you, not the way you’ve always loved him. Even when he was so cruel towards you.
But you were nothing if not resilient. So you said chuck it and went all out. Decorating your whole house, with a real tree for the past few days while Andy was out on a work trip for thanksgiving. Maybe you could surprise him and he’d realise just how much he lucked out with you.
You even went with a more risqué outfit than you usually would. Your little emerald green skirt with pleats was a bit too short and impractical for the cold winters but you were going to stay inside anyway. It was topped off with a tight burgundy blouse and a push up bra which made your girls look enticing and some red pumps.
With a pumpkin pie for dessert in the oven, your salads done and the gingerbread flavored candles lit up you were good to go.
So you sat on the couch, watching 'A Christmas story' for the hundredth time to kill time till he gets home and to distract your nervous mind.
After ninety minutes the movie was over but Andy still wasn’t home. You tried calling him but it kept going to voicemail.
Frustrated, but determined to follow through with your ‘Seduce Andy Barber’ plan you put on another movie, chewing your lip till it bled as you impatiently waited for him.
Soon it was midnight, your food got cold and the rumbling in your tummy became more prominent so you decide to eat your dinner, put the leftovers in the freezer and cut your losses.
You were almost done with your dishes when your husband coming into the apartment, turning around you saw him hang his coat on the back of the chair and plomp down on it. He groaned, pulling the sleeves of his shirt up to reveal his bulky forearms.
“You’re home,” you said, taking off your apron so he could see your little get up.
He didn’t smile at you like you expected he would, he didn’t say ‘Good job’ like you thought he would. He certainly didn’t look like he wanted to bend you over the dining table and take you then and there. He simply frowned at you. Looking at you as if your mere existence offended him.
“I told you; you were allowed to decorate your room however you liked. Not the whole apartment,” he growled, rubbing a hand over his face.
“What? I did it for you... I thought you would like it, ” you stood there, dumbfounded, shifting from one foot to another, “You don’t like Christmas.” You realised.
“No, I don’t. Christmas isn’t all fun and jolly for everybody. I’ve never had anyone to celebrate it with,” he did you a once over, his pants tightening uncomfortably as he took in your little ensemble.
He had never had a single good Christmas in his whole life. He’d usually spend it either working or drinking. But now, he had you, his good little wife who had gone out of her way to do all this just for him.
He could kiss your red lips then and there, finally do what he’s been wanting to go for the past few months and make love to you, eat the delicious meal you had made him because he was fucking starving.
But then he realized how easily you could be taken away from him. How this was all so fickle.
“Do you want a divorce?” he crossed his hands over his chest, as if daring you to give a wrong answer, “If you do, I’ll give you one right now.”
“I - ” you strutted, you didn’t really know, “Daddy would never let that happen.” To which he scoffed.
Your father would kill you both if this marriage failed. He knew that, why would he still be willing to risk everything?
“Where are you going?” you asked when he got up from the chair.
“To my room, to sleep,” he sighed.
He knew what you would say, he knew you were daddy’s little girl who’d die before disappointing her father, which was solely why you were with him, and yet he let himself fall for you and get hurt.
You tugged on his shirt, ready to beg him to at least eat the meal you made for him but then you frowned, inhaling the feminine perfume from his shirt, mixed with his own Cologne, you took a step back, your eyes brimming with tears as you realised he might’ve been with another woman.
While you were home slaving away to make everything perfect for him.
Your father had a handful of mistresses, a few of them younger than you. Your mother knew, all wives know and look the other way. That was how it was supposed to be. It was how you make marriages last...
And your poor beaten heart could take his coldness towards you, it absolutely could not bear him being with another woman. Your father had always praised him for being loyal, and it was one of the things you loved about him...
“Where were you?” you sniffled to keep the tears at bay.
“I was out working. So I could pay for your shopping sprees.” He spat.
You gasped, “I haven’t gone shopping in months! I only did now for Christmas!”
“That tree better be down by the time I wake up. You can out all that crap in your bedroom if you like. I do not what to see it.” He said gravelly, before slamming his door shut.
Something was horribly wrong.
Andy came home to an empty, cold house. You weren’t there to greet him like you usually are, in fact you hadn’t been for the past few weeks. He could hear the TV from your room, some kind of musical playing.
He checked the kitchen for some food, you used to make dinner every night, rave about your love for cooking and baking, but now it seemed that you lived on poptarts and McDonald’s.
He knocked on your door, to ask if you wanted some of the alfredo he was cooking up, also to maybe get you to have dinner with him.
Ever since he had married you, he had such a beautiful companion to have dinner with. To watch silly romcoms with, someone who waited for him to come home, called him all worried when he was late, asked him how his day was
It’d break his heart to say good night to you, you’d give him those puppy eyes, fluttering your lashes as if begging him to invite you to bed with him.
He wanted to ask you to come, to feel what it would be like to snuggle up with your soft body, to smell your hair, to finally fuck you, but he’d just go away to sleep in his cold bed with a heavy heart. Making do with his hand as he thought of you, it wouldn’t feel nearly as good as you would but it would have to do.
“Can I come in, honey?” he asked.
Letting himself in when no answer came from you. You were lying on your bed, blankets draped over you, your eyes trained on the television. He looked around your room, he had only been there a couple of times, he had expected to see some kind of winter wonderland since you were such a fan of Christmas.
But it looked just how it usually did... pale pink walls, a queen sized bed, a small closet and a dresser and a vanity. No tree or fairy lights or nut crackers.
He leaned against the door frame. “Did you have dinner?” He wanted to know.
You made some sort of unintelligible noise; which could mean anything. So he asked, “Would you like some pasta? I can’t make it as good as you do but I’ll try.”
“No.” You answered. Still not even looking at him.
“It’s Christmas Eve, do you want to go celebrate with your family?”
You shook your head in response. “No, I think I’ll just stay here.”
He had stolen your brightness and sunshine away, tainting you with his darkness. “Stop it,” he scolded, switching off the TV and standing in front of you to make you listen to him. “Get ready, I’m dropping you off at your fathers. You’re not spending Christmas in bed.”
“What difference does it make?” you huffed.
“Get ready. Right. Now.” He ordered, pulling your blanket away from you.
“No!” you whined. Sitting up, your face heating up with a simmering rage you had harbored for months. “Why do you even care? Do you want to get me out of the house so you could spend Christmas with her?!”
“Who’s her?” he furrowed his brows.
“Your mistress!” you yelled, looking around for something you could hurt him with, you grabbed a hold of your Mrs Bunny, your cute pink stuffie and threw it at his face. “I’m not going anywhere. And you’re not bringing her in to my house!” You said, throwing another stuffie at him which he caught with his hand.
“Honey,” he said, as if he was so disappointed with you, for catching him in his lies and deceit. “I don’t have a mistress. Where would I even find the time for one? All those late nights were spent at the office or in meetings.”
He would be the world’s biggest idiot to get a mistress when he had a wife like you waiting for him at home. A wife he hadn’t even so much as even kissed... given how pouty and tempting your lips looked, he didn’t know how he resisted for so long.
“Don’t call me honey,” you puffed out your cheeks, “And I don’t believe you.”
“Well, what can I do to make you believe me?”
You sighed, laying back down on the bedding, “There’s not much you can do. Except leave me be. I just want to sleep this Christmas away.”
He had to do something to get your spirits up. And since you has thrown away your old decorations he ran to every store in the town, waiting in the queue for hours, calling in as many favors as he could to get some new ones.
While he wasn’t able to get a real Christmas tree, he got a fake one which was a bit smaller than the one you had put up but not all that bad.
You had decorated the apartment with the traditional red, greens and golden he decided to go with a soft pastel pink theme. Hoping that you would like it and forgive him.
He had gotten you couple of gifts, a little babydoll he saw on the internet, it was pink and sexy, he thought of you the moment he saw it. Ordering it for you but he never really gathered enough courage to ask you to wear it. He wrapped it up for you in some festive paper, tying a ribbon around it.
He decided to get as many gifts for you as he could so the tree wouldn’t look so depressing, a Tiffany’s set, an advent calendar from a make up company he knew you liked, a box of cookies and one of chocolates, a new apron with floral patterns and frilly trimmings, some cozy socks, and a surprise gift he had been saving for you.
Looking around the living room, while it wasn’t as good as what you had done with the place he was still proud of what he could pull off in just a couple of hours.
He called out your name before knocking and entering, switching on your bedside lamp he sat next to you, stroking your hair, “Wake up, angel.”
“Seriously, stop it with the petnames,” you said, your voice groggy from sleep and irritated. Because he had only ever said your name with contempt before.
“I’m not going to stop, honey. You’re my wife, I can call you whatever I like.”
“Whatever,” you mumbled, rubbing your sleep away from your eyes.
“I have a surprise for you.” He smiled at you.
And while he had certainly smiled at you before that, when you had said something funny or silly (which you usually did just to see him smile), this one seemed so much brighter and warm.
“What is it?” you sat up. Still a bit crossed with him but excited to see what surprise he had for you.
“You have to come into the living room for that, and promise to stop being a Grinch,” he said, bopping your nose.
You scoffed incredulously, “I’m being a Grinch?! You were the one who made me take everything down in the first place!”
“I know, honey, and I am sorry for that. Hopefully I can make it up to you.” He winked.
You combed your hair, splashing some water on your face and then following him out to see what he had in mind for you.
You all but gasped at the tree in the middle of your living room, so beautiful, the soft glow of the fairy lights illuminated the room, little festive trinklets all over the room.
He had got you a pink stocking with sparkling silver hearts on it. His was a normal red one with ‘Andy' written with a sharpie or a pen. You giggled at that.
“You like it, honey?” he asked.
You nodded, observing the ornaments on your tree, “I do. Thank you so much, Andy. It’s so beautiful, I don’t think anyone’s ever done something so grand for me.”
Your rave gave him the courage to out his hand over your waist, pulling you into him, “I know this doesn’t make up for everything, but it’s start.”
“Yes! I think... I’d like a fresh start,” you beamed up at him
He excused himself to make some hot chocolate for you both, handing you a mug with little heart shaped marshmallows and sprinkles on top of it. You didn’t even realise how you ended up snuggled up next to him on the couch, Elf playing on the TV which he shockingly had never seen before.
“You know... for someone who hates Christmas so much you did a pretty good job saving it!” you giggled, kissing his bearded cheek.
“Well...” he looked down at you, wiping away the mustache the hot chocolate gave you before sucking his thumb off, “I don’t hate it anymore, because I’m not alone,” he said, his thumb pulling on your plump bottom lip.
“Um...” you face heated up as looked away, “You got me gifts!” you screamed a bit overzealous to change the subject, “Can I open one now? Please?! I’m just so excited!”
“Sure,” he murmured, a bit salty that he didn’t get the kiss.
He knelt next to you on the carpet as you pinked one up, shaking it next to your ear, scrunching your nose up so cutely as you tried to decipher what it was.
“Mmm... I can’t tell...”
“Why don’t you just open it?” he asked as his hand caressed your bare thigh, finding himself unable to keep his hands off of you now that he has you.
You ripped at the wrapping paper, opening the box to reveal the skimpy baby pink lingerie he had got you.
You pulled it out of the box and then started stammering, unable to form words once you realised what it was. “Is this... um..”
“Do you like it?”
“Yes, it’s very cute and nice. Do you, want me to wear it for you?”
“If that’s what you want,” he said casually and then shrugged but then regretted it as your face fell and you let. He wasn’t used to half-assing things if he was going to tell you his true feelings, he had to go all out.
Taking a deep breath, “I have to tell you something I’ve been meaning to say for months.”
“What?”
“I... love you,” he looked down at your lap, because he couldn’t bear to look in your eyes if you decided to reject him.
“Oh, Andy!” you beamed, “I love you too! I’ve always loved you,” you crawled on top of him, throwing your arms around his neck you hugged him.
“That’s good then,” he smiled stroking your back, he pulled you back so he could look at your pretty face, cupping your cheek he pressed his lips against yours.
He had only kissed you once, months ago at your wedding, and while it was not bad at all it was too short and formal and distant, nothing compared to how he felt right now. Moulding his lips against yours, kneading the flesh of your ass, you tasted just as sweet as he imagined you would.
You gasped in his mouth when he rutted his erection up into your core. “Andy!” your chest heaving as you felt him pressing against your thigh.
“What do you say you go put that on for me, doll? Hm?” he instructed.
You meekly nodded, grabbing a hold of the lingerie which you just now noticed was so sheer and would not really leave anything to the imagination.
“Come on out quickly now,” his impatience seeping through his voice as he sat on the edge of his, or what would now be both of your marital bed, one leg crossed over the other, his foot tapping against the floor.
His pants already snug, just from imagining what you would look like with the flimsy thing on. It wasn’t as revealing or kinky as some of the other pieces he had seen, but he felt it would match your personality perfectly.
He groaned, calling out your name again, “I’m gonna fucking die of blue balls, if you don’t come out right now, I’m coming in,” he got up to his feet to do just that but then stopped when he heard the knob twist.
One smooth leg peaking out of the bathroom, “Um... promise you wouldn’t make fun of me?” you asked. Your eyes screwed shut, you didn’t really have much of choice but you had never been so vulnerable in front of anyone. You’d hate to not be satisfactory for him.
“I promise,” his face softened, he had to practice some restrain, at least until he breaks you in, “Now come on out.”
You opened the door, your meek eyes fixed on your hardwood floor, your hands hugging your midsection. You blinked when he said nothing for several long, tortuous moments. Peaking a glance up at him you found him staring at you.
“Uh, do you like it?” you asked as your hands played with the helm of the teddy.
He almost scoffed. Like would be an understatement.
He knew pink would be your color. The nightie so short, clinging to your curves, your nipples pebbled against the satiny fabric, you looked like a sweet little doll and a whole fucking meal to devour at the same time. He would burst before he even got to touch you.
“Twirl,” he made the motion with his forefinger to demonstrate it, “Let me look at you better. And hands to your sides.”
You took a deep breath, letting your hands fall, doing as he had asked, your heart hammering in your chest because for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out if he actually liked you.
“Stop there,” he instructed when he got a look at your pert, round butt, the cloth barely covering it, he could see the imprints of the thong you wore.
“What are you thinking?” you asked.
“If I like your front better or your behind.” He almost chuckled at the incredulous gasp you let out. “Alright, look at me again.” Definitely the front, because he could see your beautiful face. Taking his original position on the bedding, “Come here,” he patted his lap.
Like the obedient wife that you aspired to be, you followed, perching yourself up on his lap, your arms around his neck for some support, looking into his lust blown, dark eyes.
You bite your lip when you felt that pressing into your thigh. Unable to bear his intense gaze you hid your face in the crook of his neck.
He hushed you, snuggling your soft body closer to his, his fingers drawing patterns on your hip, “How many men have you been with before?”
It didn’t really matter whatever your answer would be. But he wanted to tell you, that how ever many there were before him won’t matter anymore. From now on you are solely his.
“None,” you whispered so lowly that he almost couldn’t hear you.
“What?” Holding onto your chin so that he could make you look at him, “None? How is that possible?”
“I’ve just been waiting for the right one... I was going to with Alex but then didn’t...” you said as your hands caressed the coarse hair on his jaw.
He hummed, the fact that he would be your one and only, forever, only served to entice him further.
“Have you ever sucked a cock before?” he asked, although he knew the answer.
“No...”
“Don’t worry, I’ll guide you,” he promised, pushing on your shoulders to make you get on your knees.
You hissed at the cold floor, biting into the your calves and knees.
His dainty princess, he grabbed a throw pillow, instructing you to put it under, all the while staring at your cleavage peaking out like a creep.
Your eyes were fixated on his crotch, eager to see what a real penis looks like. You had watched some porn when you were a teen, out of sheer curiosity, but your friends had told you to lower your expectations. That real ones are much smaller and not so aesthetically pleasing.
You all but gasped when he took his cock out of the confines of his sweats, slapping over his abdomen. So big... and thick, with two veins over it, a bright flushed tip leaking with pre-ejaculate, and some soft hair dusted at the base of it.
You tried to stop yourself but then couldn’t help it, your hand shyly touching his tip yanking it down and then releasing it to see what happens. As suspected it flew back over, hard against his tummy, making you giggled.
“Oh gosh...” you slapped a palm over your mouth to stop from laughing.
He scrunched up the hair on the back of your head, yanking your neck back so that he could look at you, “What’s so funny?” he growled.
“Nothing,” you gulped, “It’s all just so strange and new... and exciting...”
He hummed as he took in your words. Grabbing the base of his cock as he rubbed his tip and precum all over your cheeks till your face was positively glowing with his essence.
“You wanna taste it?” he asked, to which you eagerly nodded.
Nudging your pouty lips with his tips before tapping on them when you didn’t get the clue, “Open.”
“Oh,” you said before opening as wide as you could, his length easing into your mouth. You hummed around him, the salty unique taste of him you had never really known before and couldn’t get enough of now.
He was barely halfway through inside you when he touched the back of your throat, he tutted, “Relax your throat,” he told you.
You didn’t really know what he meant but you tried loosening up all your muscles. Choking around him when he pushed in a few more inches.
Most of him was still out but it was as good as it’s gonna get, not that he’d ever complain... no... your mouth was like heaven. He had only known his hand for the past year Or so, and your mouth was almost too much.
Holding onto your face to keep it in place he started thrusting upwards into you, his heart swelling with tears escaped your eyes but you still tried to take more of him, to please him like the good girl that you were.
He stopped his hips, gently slapping your cheek to get your attention, “You always look at me when my dick is in your mouth. Got it?”
Since you couldn’t talk with your mouth full of cock, you just nodded.
You peered up at him innocently, fluttering your lashes, popping him out of your sloppy mouth, “Am I doing it right?” because you truly couldn’t tell.
He chuckled, smoothening a hand down your hair, “More than right... it’s too good but I want to come in your pussy. Maybe I’ll make you swallow my load latter, what do you think?”
“Yes, I’d like that,” you licked your lips to taste more of him.
“Get on the bed,” he ordered.
“Um... can I go fix my face before that,” you rubbed your mouth with the back of your hand, you doubted you looked very pretty to him then.
“No,” he stated, pulling you up by your armpits and all but throwing you on the bed.
You yelped and tried to protest, “I wanna look good for you...”
He pushed your legs apart to make room for him, smirking above you, eyeing you up as if you were a piece of meat, his prey, “This really does look pretty on you...” he rubbed the flimsy spagetti strap between his fingers, “but it’s served it’s purpose.”
You screamed, holding onto his wrists as he ripped the babydoll in two pieces, revealing your breasts to him, he yanked at it, throwing the remains away.
“That’s much better,” he gritted, pinching one of your peaks, capturing it in his mouth and suckling at it to his hearts content.
You pouted as you looked at the torn cloth, a bit upset that he ruined his gift to you. “I really liked that...” you sniffled. But couldn’t really ponder because Andy’s ravenous mouth was sucking hickies all over your breasts.
“I’ll buy you another one. I’ll buy you ten more,” he bit into the side of your breasts, your mewls and whines were like music to his ears.
“Andy...” you heaved, “Don’t leave marks... I have to go to dinner tomorrow to moms...”
He stopped abruptly, propping himself up above you and you were afraid that you had upset him, “You’re my wife now, honey. Your father gave you to me,” his hand snaking down your body, between your legs, he parted your moist lips, the pad of his fingers meeting your little pearl, “I can do whatever I want with you,” he reminded you, pushing a finger into you, “This cunt is mine now, got it?”
“Yess...” you whined as you squirmed under him, the invasion of his finger inside you too alien to your body.
“Which means you ask for permission before you touch yourself, or better yet, don’t touch yourself because that’s my job,” he stated.
“Have you ever made yourself come?” he asked, trailing soft kisses down your body till he settled between your legs, moving the strong of the thing to the side so he could get a better look at your virgin pussy, adding another finger inside you, your snug walls clinging to his digits, “You’re so fucking small. Can barely fit my finger. How will you take my cock,” he teased.
He’d make you take it.
You whimpered at the sting of it, “I’ll try, daddy...” throwing your head back as you massaged your breast.
You propped yourself up on your elbows, looking down at him when he stopped his ministrations, “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” he quirked a brow. “Do you realise what you just called me?”
You simply shook your head because you hadn’t really called him anything, “Andy?”
“No,” he huffed, “You called me daddy, honey.”
You gasped, you didn’t mean to say it out loud! “No...” you shook you head from side to side, trying to pull away from his fingers still knuckle deep inside you, “It can’t be!”
“Oh, but you did,” he laughed, “And you’re gonna say it again. In fact, from now on, when it’s just the two of us that’s the only thing that you will call me. Unless you wanna get punished...”
“Okay...” you said, still a bit unsure of it all.
You had always called him ‘daddy’ in your fantasies. It was maybe a bit expected for it to slip out like that but still so embarrassing. You said it again just to make sure that he actually wanted you to call him that and wasn’t just teasing you.
“Good girl,” he winked, latching his mouth around your clit, fucking you with his fingers as he kept sucking.
“Daddy...” you whined, biting on your hand to muffle some of your noises, a knot building up in the pit of your stomach, “Don’t stop, please!”
You gushed over his mouth, he lapped it all up, making sure nothing went to waste.
“You did good, honey,” he said, your cheeks heating up when you saw his beard glistening with your juices. He rolled your thong down your thick thighs, “You wear this to dinner tomorrow,” he told you. “Since I’m going to be a real husband from now on I pick out what you wear.”
All so he could see you in those pretty flowy dresses you wear sometimes, but you didn’t need to know that.
He hastily pushed his sweats and briefs past his hips, throwing them off the bed before pulling his t-shirt over his head.
You bit your lip at just the sight of him. His shoulders so broad, chest so wide, dark hair dusted all over his chest, you just knew then that all those hours he spent at the gym paid off, you knew he’d be ripped.
But you absolutely did not expect, someone as uptight as him to have numerous tattoos all over his torso.
Something inscribed in Sanskrit on his chest that you didn’t really understand... the logo of your family’s mob on just under his pectoral.
You sat up to get a better look at them, tracing a skull on his bicep that looked much less sophisticated than the others, the lines a bit scribbly, it was already fading.
“That’s the first one,” he interrupted you, “I was a kid back then, got my foster brother to do it.”
You pressed a kiss over it, “I love it.”
His blue eyes beamed at you, he was so beautiful...
“Now for your gift...” he circled your wrist bringing it down to his pelvis.
“Hm?” you looked down, tears brimming up in your eyes as you saw your name written on just beside his hipbone, next to his hard cock, standing tall against his stomach. In a small heart, dark ink against his pale skin, “When did you get it done?” you sniffles, touching his skin to feel the texture of the tattoo.
“A few weeks ago. I just... I’ve never belonged to anyone. Never had a family of my own. But now I have you, and you have me, I’m just as much yours as you’re mine,” he confessed, finally feeling the weight of it lifted off his shoulders. You were a blessing in disguise.
“I love you,” you beamed up at him.
“I love you too, doll, now come on,” he pushed you till you were on your back, “Daddy’s waited long enough. Can’t wiat to fill you up, make you mine.”
He planted a hand on the mattress, so he could see what he was doing to your virgin cunt, look at you and her, as he defiles you and makes you a woman, his thick manhood nudging your glistening lips as he eased into you, he felt you stretching around him, your face twisted in pain as you begged him to go easy on you, he halted when he felt your barrier.
He looked up at your pretty face, sparkling with his spend and your tears, your sweet little whimpers filled the room, he stayed still for a moment to let you get used to him, he knew he should take it easy.
His wife was a delicate, fragile, sweet little girl. He should be more gentle. A better husband and man would be. But he had his whole life to become a good man for you, tonight he just wanted to take what was rightfully his.
Letting out a deep, almost animalistic growl, piercing through your seal, your innocence till you were screeching, your nails drawing blood from the sides of his thighs.
“It hurts!” you screamed.
“It’ll only hurt for a little bit, doll. Just ride through it,” he cooed, stroking your sensitive clit to draw your attention away from the pain, he withdrew his hips before snapping them back till he was deep within your womb.
“You’re so snug, honey,” he grunted, not letting up his pace as he kept fucking into you,
A proud smirk gracing his face as he looked down to see himself covered in blood, a sticky mess of both your bodily fluids where your sexes were joined. His dick somehow grew harder inside you knowing how he took something from you that you’ll never be able to give someone else.
Slowly your crying and whining was subsiding as you got used to have him inside you, but he wanted to hear you scream for him in a different way. “Don’t you want to make your husband, no, your daddy happy, honey?” He asked, each word punctuated with a deep, harsh thrust into you.
You nodded, willing your tears away, cringing when you saw his crotch covered in your blood, “Yes I do, daddy. What do I do?”
“Your cute dumb brain always needs to be told what to do,” he chuckled, moving closer to you he circled his palms around your wrists, pinning them above you, “Wrap your legs around me.”
You followed along, wrapping your legs around his hips and hooking them together on his back. Closing your eyes when you felt your body seizing up, your pussy pulsating around his length when you felt the familiar feeling creep up on you.
“Look at me!” he barked and you immediately opened your eyes, “You look at me when I fuck you.”
You gulped and dared not close your eyes again. Even as you felt your orgasm wash over you, clenching around his length. His face was scrunched up, his neck, face and chest flush as he chased his own release till you felt his warm release coating your walls.
He collapsed above you, panting beside you he kissed your hair, “You liked that, babygirl?”
You let out a meek little yes. Feeling empty and void of his warmth and hardness when he pulled out of you before settling next to you.
“But...” you trailed off. Not finding it in you to bare yourself to him like that just yet.
“But what?” he whipped his head to look at you.
“But I’m sorry if I wasn’t very good!” Since you had simple laid there and took whatever he gave you. You had heard that men don’t like that...
“Don’t worry, honey, you were absolutely perfect,” he sighed. “You’ll get even better with practice, we’re gonna practice a lot from now on.”
You tried to cover your breasts up with the comforter, still awkward about being stark naked right next to a man, a man who looked as good as like Andy, but he swatted at your hands, reprimanding you and telling you to stay still and let him look at you to his hearts content.
Soon you felt your cunt throbbing back up again, still so raw from the loving Andy gave it, you tried rubbing your legs together to ease it a little bit.
“It still hurts?” Andy asked as you nodded.
He snaked a hand between your legs, massaging your little nub and your lips, tutting when you tried to pull away from his touch, “Shh I’m trying to make it hurt less.”
He hummed when he saw his seed leak out of you, pushing a finger in you, much to your displeasure, to keep it inside you, where it belonged.
He would make you go on some form of birth control as soon as he could. While the idea of you all round and plump with his kid was more than appealing, he didn’t want to share you with anyone else just yet. You were young, he had plenty of years to breed you.
“You’d make a good mother,” he wondered out loud.
“Hm?” you blinked at him. Squirming from the torture he was yielding on your overworked sex. His lips curled up in a twisted smile as he pulled his fingers out of you, wiping your blood on your soft nipples, painting them crimson as you shivered.
You looked at his cock, hard again against his stomach. “Does it hurt?” you asked, your hands twitching to touch it again.
“Yes, it does. Do you wanna help me get rid of the pain?”
“Mm... can I use my mouth again? I’m sore...”
“It’s okay, honey, you’ll get used to it,” he promised, grabbing your hips and pulling you on top of him, your palms pressed into his abdomen as you looked so wrecked, “Guide me in,” he ordered.
You shook your head which earned you a harsh slap on your ass so you held onto the base of his cock, parting your intimate lips, before slowly sinking down on him.
You sighed as you settled, sitting on top of him with his cock nestled inside you, so full and strangely satisfied, his warmth soothing your aching walls, he spanked you again to remind you to move, so you started bouncing on top of him the best you could.
His hand groped at your bouncing titts before he wrapped a hand around your throat, applying the slightest bit of pressure as you whimpered and cried, just to remind you who’s in charge, not that you’d forget anytime soon.
His only regret was that he hadn’t done this sooner. He was an idiot to ever resist an angel like you. He’ll have to do a lot to make up for lost time.
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The Boy Next Door
Reader x Bang Chan (Stray Kids)
[Genre] exes-to-lovers au, smut, angst.
[Word count] 6.7K
[Warnings] Smut. Angst. Unprotected sex, voyeurism, ample description of bodily fluids.
[Note] This is my contribution to @feliix ’s Summer 2 Lovers collab! Check it out!
Summer.
The season of fun and sun, careless joy, long days and warm nights…
For most people.
For you, this summer is about change. It’s about the little town you used to live in, the quaint house you grew up in, the smell of your mother’s cooking or the breeze from the yard, the sound of younger kids playing in the street. It’s about the big city you will go to live in, it’s purple and orange twilight skies, black silhouettes reaching toward the skies beginning to twinkle with golden lights, the noises of the traffic coming from evening bustle, the scent of the delis and restaurants that line the streets.
You were stuck between these two places, university having been a four year long limbo of boundless sex mislabeled as self-discovery, and now visit your home one last time, reminding yourself of the life you had there before moving on to another.
You think of the past with nostalgia, yet also with a restlessness that makes you want to run from everything. The stillness, the silence, the unchanging landscape in this little town is too unbearable, too unsettling. But it’s familiar, and it’s comfortable. The life you’ll soon live promises excitement, autonomy, it’s the adulthood you’ve fantasized about. It terrifies you too, and you have these horrible dreams about missing the payment of the most insignificant bill and having the entire world collapse on you because of it. You still don’t know how to do your taxes.
College is over, a new life awaits you in a big city after landing a rather ideal job, but it felt like you were leaving things behind. Funny how, after so many years of fantasizing about this grown-up life you suddenly felt like a lost child, scared to forgo the familiar.
It’s these sort of almost-quarter-life-crisis thoughts that fill your mind on a particularly warm afternoon. You’re indecently splayed out on a couch with as little clothing as possible, the door to the backyard is wide open, letting an occasional breeze waft in to disrupt the stifling stillness of the heat. The lights are off, and you were too unbothered to turn them on as the sun set, preferring to stare at a darkening ceiling as the evening sky turned purple.
There’s a familiar jingle of keys from the front door.
“Honey? You home?”
“I’m here, Mom.” You lazily answer back. She wanders from the hall to the living room, you can feel the judgemental look she gives you.
“Have you been laying like this all day?”, indignation lines her voice. Was it so surprising to find you like this?
“Yeah…”
“You can’t just lay here all day. Go out! Get some sun! Go play with those kids you used to hang out with from school!”
“I can’t Ma, I’d rather just plank here.”
“Oh goodness, Y/n. Give me one good reason you shouldn’t go hang out with them!”
“I’ll give you two: either they grew up to be total bitches or they had kids and became a bore.”
“I didn’t become a bore when I had you!” She exclaims, although it’s not too serious and some playfulness hides beneath the surface.
“Yeah, that’s because you’re a cool mom. They don’t make those anymore.”
“Hmm… well, I think you should make a bit of an effort.”
“Mom… it’s my last vacation you know -”
“You know what?!” She suddenly exclaims, her voice brightening like a lightbulb just radiated in her thoughts. “Mrs. Carson’s son is here with her for the summer too! I bet you haven’t seen him in ages, and he’s gotten so handsome.”
“Mrs. Carson?” You didn’t have any clue who that was.
“Well… you might remember her as Mrs. Bang, but Jane changed her name when she married Norbert a few years ago. She still lives next door and Christopher’s in town spending the summer with his mother.”
Bang…
Christopher…
You hadn’t heard that name in years. It surprised you a bit actually, and a hint of a smile came to your lips.
“Yeah, yeah, Mom… I’ll think about it.”
You wouldn’t admit… something did grab your attention. A curiosity of sorts.
You were fifteen years old when you had your first kiss. He was a short boy with a kind smile, a bit awkward really, but you had a fondness for him. It wasn’t about looks at all, all boys at that age were hideous and nothing would change your opinion on that, but you’d swoon whenever you saw him. It was mutual, an icky teenage infatuation that had your friends poking fun at both of you whenever you’d become giddy at the sight of one another. Hot faces, nervous glances, trembling innocent touches.
He sat next to you in chemistry and you’d hold hands under the lab table while the teacher gave class. His left hand always felt soft in your right one. Cute. It’s a bit silly but you’re glad you had that sort of adorable and silly romance. While it lasted, that is.
Christopher wasn’t a bad guy. He was stupid, like all boys that age.
When you saw him kissing another girl, of course you cried, but you knew it had to do with him being stupid more than anything. This simple looking girl that you had been friends with in elementary school, you can’t even remember her name.
You know why he did it, beyond his stupidity. Your mom had let it slip long before - you knew it was coming.
“Honey, would you believe? Mr. and Mrs. Bang are divorcing!” Probably just some hot gossip from one of her PTA yoga groups, no ill intention on your behalf. She didn’t know you were seeing Christopher - over your dead body. You were fifteen and a horrible student, you didn’t need to give your mother yet another element to ground you with.
“Oh no…” You acted as normally as you could, your first thoughts went out to Christopher first though. “Do you know why?”
“Well… I’m obviously not going to ask, duh! But I do know that Mr. Bang is taking the kid with him abroad.” What?! What did she just say? Chis is WHAT?!
“I - uh, what?” Act normal, act normal, act normal.
“Aww… sweetie, was he your friend?” Goodness, parents can be so oblivious, but it’s beneficial in this case. She doesn’t pick up on the depression of your mood.
“I guess.” A sniffle is about to threaten your composure so, in your teenage arrogance, you leave before your mother can see your teary eyes.
The subsequent days were strange. You expected Christopher to tell you the news, you expected to comfort him, you expected to live out the rest of your young romance as best as you could. And then… you saw him.
And he said nothing. He was cold, pushed you away. He must be going through a lot of pain, you thought. More days went by and he still said nothing, and his demeanor grew worse, no affection, no smiles. He must be having a hard time, you reasoned.
Sometimes you thought he was on the verge of saying something to you, like he was about to say something and the words threatened to come out but he’d suddenly pull away and swallow them. You didn’t question it really, it was so confusing but you just went with it.
You never held his hand in chemistry again.
Time made you realize that Christopher didn’t want to be with you anymore. You weren’t sure if it was because he stopped liking you, and that hurt a little, but you knew what he was going through, and you stood by him in case he ever chose to open up and cry on your shoulder. You’d be there for him.
When he kissed that girl, it didn’t really surprise you. Damn it, what was her name? You cried, you thought it was because you were ugly and your boobs were still pretty small - stupid reasons.
It took a few months for you to understand the real reason.
He left without saying goodbye. You never spoke to him after he kissed what’s-her-name. Maybe he tried to do so a couple of times, but you ran away or didn’t let him. Or maybe you remembered it that way to comfort you, just so you’d live with the thought that he tried to apologize, tired to make things right.
But the fact of the matter is he didn’t speak to you and he didn’t say goodbye. He didn’t want to.
He didn’t want to say goodbye because it hurt.
He was trying to ruin your relationship so you’d break up with him and he wouldn’t have to say goodbye, so that he could kill the feelings you had for him to spare you from the pain of his departure.
Or maybe you were just imagining it like that to make it a cuter memory and think about it fondly.
Maybe in the end, Christopher was just a horny teenage boy that cheated on you. Maybe.
Regardless, you giggle as you think back on the silliness of it all, and how serious and life altering it all felt in your childishness. It seemed so long ago, so distant, and you were so changed that it felt like it had all happened to a different person. You wondered about the man next door, and the entirely different boy who had once been next door. What kind of person had Christopher become?
University did you well. It was four solid years of irresponsible drinking and uninhibited sexual exploration paired with relatively easy academics. You don’t know how it happened, but it had been like a transformation from one day to the next.
You, sort of, kind of, absolutely plain and normal girl that no one would notice lest you stepped in their line of sight. One day, there you were - normal.
Two weeks in - boom. Confident. Your roommate was an okayish girl, another plain one. Then you started noticing how comfortable you were undressing in front of her, to change clothes or whatever, as if it was the most normal thing in the world - which it was. Wearing shorts and skirts became less of a worry, just something that felt better. Sometimes you’d be thrown icky glances from some boys, which you hated, but others were acceptably flirty and you loved those. The best ones were the boys that would get shy and who would quickly whip their heads the other way once you caught them staring.
That definitely flipped the switch. It made you feel strong, it made you feel damn good. You, who at the most had dipped a finger into the world of heavy makeouts during high school, now became a seasoned seductress of all kinds of men. So long as you could wrap them around your finger with your demeanor, so long as you could prowl over them and take the lead.
Ah… the good old days.
What was going to happen now, though? Four years later, no slightly inexperienced men left to be wowed. Everyone you knew was turning into a bland and bitter office worker. Was this the end of it?
To think that you’d be ending this glorious chapter of your life in this tiny town, lounging on the same stuffy couch in the same hot living room every day, having your routine philosophical melodrama where you’d stare at the ceiling in the afternoons until your mother came in inquiring if you were alive. It was a terrible fate.
A few days after the revelation of Christopher’s presence, which you would never admit had been circling your mind nonstop, your mother returns with another piece of information.
“You know, Jane and Norbert are having a get together of sorts next Saturday - just the usuals from the block.”
“Is that so?” You said with disinterest.
“In fact, I borrowed a baking pan from her last week… why don’t you go over and give it back to her for me? She might need it, and you probably haven’t left this house in days.” You didn’t reply, but you could feel her eyes on you, waiting for you to obey.
“Fine…”
The afternoon was enjoyably fresh, although your white t-shirt stuck to you like a second skin, the bikini top you wore underneath tracing its silhouette into the cotton. You lazily stomped your way to the house next door, admiring the tall window where you had snuck into Christopher’s room a couple of times during your short romance. A ladder was perched up against the exterior toward that window, they must have been fixing things up. The porch was full of cans of paint, tools, boxes. It was only when you rang on the doorbell, begrudgingly holding the large tray, that you realized that Jane might not be the one to open the door but instead it could be -
The door swings open and you gasp. Christopher.
Well… his face hadn’t changed much. But he was slightly taller than you remembered, far more masculine, oh, and he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Yeah, he was shirtless… jeans hanging low on his hips… shirtless… abs… fit waist… arms…
“Hi! Is Jane home?” Good… pretend you don’t remember him.
“I - Uh… no, my mom’s actually out right now.” He replied. His voice had grown deeper, and where did he get that accent? Wait - did he not remember you? Now, that just made you angry, but you wouldn’t let it show.
“Oh, well… my mother wanted me to return this.” You say handing him the tray, avoiding trailing your eyes downward.
“Yeah, sure. I’ll give it to her.” He says. He seems a little frozen, an expression between surprise and caution lingers on his face, but you don’t know if it’s good or bad.
There’s a moment of silence where you just stare at each other.
“Y/n…” He finally says. There’s hesitation in the way he says your name. He’s scared, not of you, but he’s scared about the fact that you’re on his doorstep.
You don’t say anything, calmly, almost coyly, waiting for him to continue. You’d gotten rather good at pretending you were calm, and the slightest tint of a smile painted your lips so you wouldn’t seem cold or ingenuine.
“Do you remember me?” He asks. You can’t help but huff, a tiny laughter really.
“Of course. You know, you haven’t grown much taller.”
With those slightly playful words, you turn to walk back to your home, and with each step your impression of the encounter with your childhood love became more bitter and less sweet.
It was strange how you thought about him, about it. The situation, that is. Seeing him, talking to him, both of you now being older. A few days of thinking now.
You don’t know why you thought about it so much, but you thought about it. You thought about it without knowing how you felt about it or what you thought about it. This man you had only gotten a glimpse of, too overwhelmed to take in his features properly, now walks around your mind freely. He wasn’t the boy you knew. He wasn’t the boy next door whose hand you’d once hold in chemistry, who you’d kiss before turning the corner towards both of your homes. The boy who left all those years ago.
No, it wasn’t that boy. It was that man, who kept perturbing you. What did you feel? Interest? Yes, there was something quite intriguing about all of this which sparked your curiosity. Lust? Of course, absolutely, the man next door looked divine. Suppose you could abstract the person from his body, so that you wouldn’t be so bothered by who he was and what he meant to you, and you’d easily bend over in front of him and invite him in.
You supposed a conversation was in place, though, because after all, he was still the Christopher. You couldn’t just go around fucking people like that anymore - unfortunately. That was something you got away with in college. It’s a shame college boys grow up to be boring men, sex gets more boring, they think they have all the authority… Maybe you should go back to school.
You’re sitting on the windowsill of your second floor bedroom, one leg hanging out and stepping onto the roof. Opposite to your window, beyond a neat shrub, is the window of the guest room of Mrs. Carson, formerly Bang, which seems unchanged from when you last saw it. You remember watching her from your room, also unchanged, using the TV in there to do some aerobics she followed along from a VHS… was it a VHS? No, that’s the machine. What were the things you used to put in the VHS? A cassette? No… regardless, eventually she must have started using DVD’s.
Damn it, it all seemed like thousands of years ago.
Damn it, you were still so melodramatic throwing around words like poetry over some Richard Simmons tape. Aha! It’s a tape!
Your crotch is being dug into by the window frame, and you let your weight rest on it, the slight grind tempting you to have a round of masturbation. But you’ll finish the cigarette you stole from your mother first. It tasted awful, it was another adult thing you couldn’t understand. Why did everyone at university smoke so much? It was just another thing their eager teenage selves did to emulate the adults in grown-up world, to feel a little more grown-up. Who the hell likes this stuff?
But you liked watching it burn, occasionally inhaling its airy and bitter smoke. It wasn’t your preferred type of smore. You preferred watching papers and matches burn, their sweet and rich smell, the warmth of the fire that would sting the edges of your fingers. Shame your mother only used a lighter, you didn’t like the smell of that fire either.
You just surrendered to watching the bright tip of the cigarette and the white streams that came from it.
“You know those are bad for you.”
“Jesus fucking Christ!” You exclaimed, your heart nearly jumping out from your chest. A man had sprung out from the window in the guest room of the Carson house, formerly Bang, and that man was Christopher Bang himself.
“Sorry I didn’t -”
“You almost gave me a fucking heart attack - what the hell?!”
“ - mean to startle you…”
“Damn it, Christopher!”
“Ah! So you do remember me?” He says with a bit of joy, but you just look at him, realizing that this is where the talk will come. His features grow a little more somber. He continues, “So… I guess I -”
“Where’d you get the accent?” You interrupt, genuinely curious. “You sound like the crocodile hunter.”
“Well… I was living in Australia with my dad.” He says it in a normal tone, but you make sure it doesn’t stay normal.
“Oh, so that’s where you went?” You both wince at what you just said. Yep, it’s finally time for that talk.
There’s a bit of silence, but you’ll let him be the one to fill it.
“I…” He sighs deeply. Uuhh… it’s quite a masculine sigh. “I didn’t know you’d be here. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again but I… there’s something I’ve always wanted to say.”
��I’m listening…” You say. It’s a flat tone, but it’s funny. You hope it’ll ease him.
“I wanted to say I’m sorry.” Some silence again, “I’m sorry for being an ass, I’m sorry for cheating on you -”
“Chris, we were like fifteen… you kissed a girl with braces, big deal.” You waved it off. Really, kissing that girl didn’t bother you so much, now almost ten years later.
“I left without saying anything.”
“Yeah, you did. Hard to not notice.”
“I was - I know it’s not an excuse, but I was going through a lot and I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“So you left without saying anything?”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s ok… we haven’t spoken in years. I practically forgot about it.” No you didn’t.
“Did you?” He says. Was he hopeful when you insinuated he hadn’t hurt you as much as he thought he had?
“No, not really. I mean, yeah, you kissing another girl was pretty insignificant, we were just kids. It did hurt that you left without… I don’t know… There wasn’t any closure. There wasn’t a goodbye. I felt confused for a while, I guess.”
“I’m so sorry about that. But my parents were splitting up, I was going to have to leave everything behind. You were the first girl I loved and I was going to have to say goodbye and I couldn’t handle it. I was too hurt and embarrassed to even tell my friends. I wish I had done it differently.”
“Yeah, I wish you had too. I wanted to be there for you, you know? I wanted to hug you, hold your hand, tell you it was going to be ok.
“I really messed up there…”
“It’s okay Chris, you were just a kid. We were just kids.” You offer your sympathy but he doesn’t soften.
“Mhmm. Doesn’t make me feel less guilty about it.”
“Can I ask you something?” He nods, “Did you do all that stuff… you know, treat me that way, for real or where you…?”
“I was hoping you’d break up with me, get over me. That way we wouldn’t have to say goodbye and we wouldn’t get hurt.”
“I got hurt.” You admit.
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing.” You insist. “It’s fine. We’re fine. We’re old and grown and fine. All of that’s in the past, I can’t blame you for acting like a kid. It’s okay.”
“Well I can agree with you there. We did grow up, not kids anymore.”
“You didn’t grow that much.” You laugh, he laughs too.
“You certainly did.” He’s being flirty. It could have been bad timing, but the mood felt right.
“Oh, you noticed?”
“Hard not to.” Goodness was he being direct. “You were really cute back in school, I had a crush on you for like, forever.”
“Really…Plain old me?”
“Really. And now here we are and I think I could have a crush on you all over again.”
“So you can go off and kiss another girl with braces and leave the continent?”
“No, I’m a one woman man.” He says while making himself comfortable on his own ledge. It’s getting comfortable overall, like you’re talking to someone you’ve known for the longest time, like a decade of separation didn’t do much harm.
“Well, well. And who is that lucky woman now?”
“There’s no one at the moment. I’m in the middle of some life changes.”
“Do tell.”
“I’m moving back. Well, not here, just in the country again. A big city, big job, kinda scary.”
“Seems we’re on the same boat. I just came back to say goodbye to this place forever and I’m ooout.”
“Did you finish school already?”
“Yeah… I wish I hadn’t though.” You think back on your experience with longing, lamenting it’s end.
“Wow, can’t relate. I couldn’t wait for it to end. What’d you miss about it?”
“Well, I didn’t have to work, grades were good and easy. And I guess, it was tons of fun.”
“How so?”
“Being on a campus full of horny and stupid guys - it was open game.” Chan hisses at your admission.
“I wouldn’t have taken you for that type.” He chuckles, “You would stutter for like the first two months we went out.”
“We were just kids.”
“I guess we were…”
Another comfortable silence as you stare off at the sky, your cigarette burnt through with only the spongy bud left to pinch.
“Chris?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m single too, you know.”
It might have been a bad idea, you said it on impulse after all, something quite instinctive having taken over you. Maybe you were just horny and Christopher was just hot, regardless, the conversation was over. Before he could even process what you said, and the implications to it, you had already slipped back into your darkened room and out of his sight.
Chan felt like a teenager again. Not in a good way.
Chan remembered your first kiss, holding your hand. He remembered your breasts being the first he had ever really noticed, your legs being the first he ever caressed. He remembers how you’d press your bodies together while you kissed, not really understanding what both of you felt, only understanding the urgency of it.
Now he can name those feelings, the ones that once belonged to an inexperienced boy, merely dipping his toes into the surface of that world. But now that he dove, and had dived into its waters several times, he knew how to swim in them.
Yet, seeing you made him feel like he didn’t. It made him feel like he couldn’t swim, like he couldn’t breathe. He felt like he was drowning.
The first moment he saw you on his doorstep he felt his stomach drop, a pang of guilt that had lingered on his mind during countless of sleepless nights hitting him with full force. He didn’t expect it. He thought he would never see you again.
And after taking another look, a longer look, it was like he was swimming in completely different waters. He felt submerged, and he didn’t know which way was up. He wanted to open his mouth and swallow it all up, let you drown him.
He hadn’t felt this raging feeling since he was a teenager. He certainly hadn’t had a specific woman make him feel like this until you.
It made him feel another kind of guilt. Shame even.
The following days he’d watch you, shamefully. His mother had him painting the house and when he stood on the rooftops he took his time to enjoy the view of you swimming in your pool, wearing tiny bikinis that stuck to your skin and showed the buds of your niples and the lines of your labia through the fabric. He would admit, shamefully, that he stopped watching from the roof because he needed to get closer to see these beautiful details.
He now watched you from over the fence in his backyard. Getting incredibly hard watching you swim, watching you oil your body down.
It was all horribly, horribly shameful.
But weren’t you the one that mentioned you were single? It had caught him off guard. He was being cheeky in that moment, but he didn’t know what waters he was testing then. Now he knew, and it was making him behave so, so shamefully.
Should he go over there, push you into a corner of the pool and pull your bottoms to the side? Should he kneel at your feet while your rubbing yourself with that golden oil, and beg you to let him fuck you?
It wasn’t just the thought of sex that drove him mad, it was you in general. How inferior he felt in front of you, like he had to prove himself. Every day he worked shirtless, hoping you’d get a glimpse of him, but you were just so unbothered by it all.
It was driving him fucking insane.
If only you knew.
Except - of course you did. Of course you did. This is what you craved, what you were best at. Driving boys, technically men but boys sounds tastier, to be absolute slaves to their desire for you. Christopher wasn’t doing a good job at hiding it. Did he really think that you would suddenly spend every day swimming in the tiniest bikinis after having not left your couch for over a week? They really are such stupid, fuckable animals.
And Chris was particularly fuckable.
Day four of his perverted project, he was hammering away at some boards in the back porch of his house. Your mother wouldn’t be home for hours, his parents were away for a couple of days.
Everything was perfect.
“Chris?!” You call loudly over the fence from your chaise lounge, carelessly flipping through a book. The hammering stopped, he had heard you. “Chris, it’s hot today. Don’t you think you should come over for a swim to cool down?”
Why on earth were you acting so damn unbothered and confident, he thought. Why on earth were you asking him over?
It’s only a matter of time before he circles his own house and slides in through the gate on your end. He’s still wearing jeans and a utility belt, gloves too. No shirt.
“You can’t really swim in those, take them off.” You hardly peered at him from over your sunglasses. He was just standing there, frozen. That’s usually a sign that you’re working your magic well. Good. “Come on Christopher, take them off.”
“I - uh, I’m actually not wearing trunks right now. Uhm… I’ll be right back.”
“Oh, you don’t have to go.” Insert unbothered page flip. “Why don’t you just undress and get in the pool so I can join you?”
“W-what?” He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He genuinely thought he had imagined it, maybe all of his hornyness was driving him insane.
“Christopher!” You whine. “You’re ruining the fun!” You slam the book shut and throw it over to the side, taking your sunglasses and hat off. “Chris, I think it’s obvious. Do you think I haven’t noticed you being a peeping tom for the past half week? Look! You’ve already got a tent in your pants and everything!”
“Fuck.” Shit, you were right.
“This is like, hmm, like an open invitation to fuck me.” You say with an eye roll, but your eyes roll toward his abs because they are absolutely distracting you.
“Are… are you serious?”
“Well… You want to, I want to. You’re nice, look like you’ve become quite a decent man - and I’m not just referring to your physique Chris. Maybe, just maybe, it would be an excellent idea if we finally fucked this tension away.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that. You’re here for a few weeks, so am I. Why not enjoy each other while we can? After that we can just go our separate ways, just like before except we’ll end it on good terms.”
Too many points for him to argue with - you were right on all of them. He couldn’t disagree. In fact, he eagerly agreed. Little did he know you had this pitch rehearsed to perfection, to your benefit, because he seemed to be completely subdued by it.
“Fuck.” He mutters under his breath. Fumbling with his belt, zipper, exposing the line of his abdomen down to his hardening cock. A fat, heavy cock that swung between his muscular thighs. He was fully nude now, standing in front of you, his tan skin glistening in the sunlight. You’re quick to urge him over with a finger.
He pounces, but once he’s crawling over you on that narrow chair, he becomes slow.
“Hi.” You manage to whimper out, now feeling a bit small beneath him, feeling nervous even.
“Hey.” He’s just as nervous but there’s an energy that goes beyond either of your wills pulling you toward one another.
He kisses you. It’s a kiss you melt into, and he sinks his body against yours, with you spreading your legs so he can slot between them. His cock rests against your lower abdomen, his body pressing further into you.
You can’t help but slide your hand between your two bodies in an attempt to finger yourself, prepare yourself, but he stops you and pulls back.
“No.” He growls.
“No?” Is he going to leave you like this?!
“Let me.”
And you do. Chan lowers himself, adjusting you so he can easily bend over the chair while kneeling on the ground, and his hands shake as he dips the tip of his fingers into the hem of your bottoms, just slightly tugging at the material, playing with it before he starts to play with you. You’ve got the perfect view of him basically drooling over you.
He slides the bottoms to the side, but you pull at the strings at your hips, so they come undone and he pulls them away completely. Your lips and the juices coming from between them are just as glossy than your oiled skin.
He can’t help but dig in. Fucking you with his mouth, jamming his fingers in you. It’s an animalistic frenzy and it’s hot and slippery and sticky. You cum and your fluids spill over the impermeable cushion below, pooling under your ass. He can see every sparkling droplet fall from you.
It’s just a haze, he nearly jumps on you, bending your legs nearly over your head, bouncing his pelvis on your cunt like a trampoline, smacking with every thrust. You’re completely glued to one another. If he’s not abusing your mouth with his tongue then he’s biting on your shoulder or grunting, growling, into your ear. It’s filthy. You’re absolutely sure you’ve never been fucked like this.
He cums, several times, as do you. He pulls out each time, jerks himself off on your body, although a couple of times you urged him into your mouth and face. He pulls the triangles on your top to the sides, so your breasts are exposed. He made sure to cum on those too. Semen, sweat, squirt, oil, spit, everywhere there are droplets of your fluids shining on your body like jewels.
It ends with him lying on top of you, nearly sleeping from exhaustion, and your lips feel deliciously sore and sensitive, almost ticklish as he softens inside of you.
It happens again. Several times in fact. Many, many times. When his parents are away, when your mom is away, you fuck all the time. Just a little call of his name over the fence or from your window and he’d be running to you. You were too comfortable with one another to bother with formalities, it was like you’d never been separated. You’d wait for him on all fours, wet cunt on display for him to dive in, but he’d always greet you with a gentle kiss.
Fucking each others faces, drinking eachothers fluids. You even let him fuck you in the ass, multiple times, and he was the first guy to make you cum that way. You were just as hooked and as desperate as he was.
Things started to change though.
The welcoming kisses became longer, you’d talk between the rounds…
You’d fall asleep in his arms, or he in yours.
You’d fuck slowly, deeply, staring into each other’s eyes.
You’d talk to him, tell each other stories of all these years, asi if you had been together the entire time.
You’d smile as you made love, gently. You’d let him cum inside of you.
He’d hold your hand again. They were as soft and warm as you remembered.
You were holding his hand on one particular pink evening, your head resting on his heaving chest, teaching circles into his pecs and nipples. On your bed, in your quiet childhood room. It was a painful silence now. It had been weeks, weeks closer to your respective departure dates.
“I wish I had never left.” He eventually says. You don’t know what to say. “I wish we could have stayed like this for longer.”
“Maybe we would have broken up eventually, or left for college.” You ponder.
“Maybe I would have taken you to prom, or we would have had sex together for the first time…” He returns.
“On this bed? Hmm? With my cute school uniform?” You tease. “Yeah, maybe.”
“But I guess this is what was meant to be.” He sighs, as do you.
“I’m sorry.” Is all you can say.
“What for?”
“I don’t know, I just feel bad. I started this and now we have to go our separate ways again.” You feel something sting in your eye. You can’t cry now.
“Shh…” He coos as he hears you sniffle and feels you twitch. It makes his heart ache like it did all those years ago when he left.
“I - I…” You cry. “I don’t want you to go. I don’t want to go.”
He pulls you into his arms, crushing you in an embrace. Your eyes are closed but you feel the tears fall from his face, he’s crying too.
“I know… but what else can we do?”
There was nothing left to do, other than fuck the days away, crying, holding each other until it hurt. It was a horrible, horrible thing to have fallen in love with Christopher Bang this final summer.
You didn’t go with him to the airport. You didn’t want to say goodbye, you didn’t want to see where he was going.
But he did slip into your room that final night. You made love quietly, he kissed you as you cried.
He said it was the second time he loved you, and the second time he had to leave you.
It hurt much more this time around. Maybe you shouldn’t have done it, maybe you shouldn’t have gone next door.
Being in your house was unbearable once Chris wasn’t next door.
A week later, you’ve arrived at your new place. It had been a whirlwind and you stayed at a hotel the first couple of nights while your new furniture got brought in, most of your personal belongings only fitting in a couple of bags.
It’s kept you busy. That way you think about him a little less. Crying into pillows that have that certain ‘brand new’ smell isn’t quite as comforting as you’d expect. Everything seems unfamiliar, strange, artificial. Nothing here reminded you of him - it was for the best and you hated it.
The place is nice, bright. It’s on the third floor of a small apartment building, a couple of other doors beside yours in the hall. You go downstairs to grab a few packages that have arrived, carefully treading up the stairs in a kind of balancing act once they’re piled in your arms. It’s a choreography you can dance to with expertise, always denying any help from your neighbors.
However, you do fumble with the lock and handle once you’re at your door, holding the boxes up by pressing them against the door with your body as your hands blindly fumble with the keys, nothing but cardboard in your sight.
Nothing you can’t handle, until they start to slip.
“Woah, let me help you with that!” someone says behind you, and in your complicated state it’s a bit difficult to process what happens but the boxes are soon out of the way, said someone pulling them from you and freeing you.
And then you see him.
Him.
Your him.
He says your name and you’re too stunned to react. He’s in awe too. He drops your packages, and you’re certain some of them contain some makeup palettes but you don’t give a damn at the moment.
“What are you doing here?” You finally ask, frozen in place.
“I… live in 304.” He says.
“You live in 304?” He nods. “You? You’re serious?” He nods again, eyes still wide.
You both stand there, processing it all. This can’t be real.
“I live in 302.” you manage to say, after some time. Your voice is weak, all the air has left your lungs. You shake.
“You do?” He asks. Now you nod.
This can’t be.
But he cups your face, holds it like you’re precious and delicate, he kisses you. It is real. You kiss him back, harder. Eventually you’re both clinging to one another, gripping each other’s clothes desperately.
“You live here.” He says, little tears sparkling in the corner of his eyes. You nod, the same tears coming to you.
“I do. Mm-hmm.” The sniffles you let out seem so sweet to him, he swoons with how happy you are to see him. Knowing you feel the same joy he does - it makes him feel complete.
“I live here too!” He cries, laughing, smiling, beautifully.
One more kiss, just to make sure it’s real. You pull him in and kiss him one more time.
It’s real.
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The Midnight of Despair | Volturi Kings x fem!reader
As you all can see, I got carried away just a little with this one. It was supposed to be a one-shot, but I'm planning at least part two, since this part got soooo long.
Anyway!
I hope you'll enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing. Sorry for any grammatical errors, as well as any confusion with syntax. English isn't my native but I always try my best! Constructive criticism is always welcomed.
Please, pay attention to the warnings. If you are uncomfortable with any of the topics, simply do not read.
I pictured here Aro from the films (as Michael Sheen is perfect for this part), Caius from the films (maybe a little bit older) and Marcus from the films but his younger self (maybe 20?). Also, I wrote at one point that [Y/N] has blonde hair and blue eyes but it just helped me with the descriptions. Obviously, you can picture characters according to your wishes.
Warnings: Rape (graphic description!), Depression, PTSD, Swear words, Forced Pregnancy
Word count: 7816 (!)
Summary: [Y/N] and Bella are childhood friends. They were always there for each other. [Y/N] had tough times and struggles with everyday life. Bella faces depression after Edward had left her. [Y/N] tries to get her going and alive. One day [Y/N] is raped and gets pregnant with the rapist. Not long after that it turns out that Edward got himself into the mess with Volturi. [Y/N], even traumatized and in pieces, will not let Bella go without her supervision to Italy. What is going to happen when [Y/N] will stay at Volterra? Is she really predestined to be Kings' mate? Is she going to have her baby or abort the pregnancy? Will the trauma go away or is she going to struggle for a long time?
You thought that the death of your parents was enough to break you. As they say, if you’re not willing to bend, you’ll break. And you did. After all.
Ever since you’ve been born, everything went downhill. You were a weak child and within your first five years of life, you’ve gone through countless surgeries. Something was terribly wrong with your spine and the doctors were worried that you wouldn't be able to move normally.
You got your ‘happily ever after’. After fourteen surgeries and taking more than a dozen medications, you could be considered healthy. It made you remember the better part of your childhood. At this point, you couldn’t even recall constant visits at hospital or ingesting enormous amount of drugs.
What you could recall, was the agony that your mom went through while dying of pancreatic cancer. You tried to help her but there was literally no help available. Sure, chemo did help, but only a little tiniest bit. When someone got this type of cancer, there was only one way to die. It was neither pretty, nor pleasant.
So your mother died when you were sixteen. Your father followed shortly after her. He suffered from severe depression after your mother’s passing, but it was the car accident that got him killed. You were just before your graduation.
You’ve finished school and tried to go on. It wasn’t exactly an easy path to follow. You had the feeling that fate had made you its whore and the devil knows his jokes. Somehow, you got through college. You used the money from your dad's insurance policy entirely for your education. It was the only thing you could do to secure your future.
At 22, you got a job at the same hospital where doctor Cullen worked. You were a nurse on the paediatrics ward, but the hospital in Forks was so small that you often found yourself working with doctor Cullen. He was always kind to you and exuded a fatherly warmth. However, like everyone from Cullen family, he was slightly withdrawn from all conversations and social activities.
You noticed a slight change in his behaviour when your best friend, Bella, started dating with the doctor's youngest son, Edward. Carlisle has been talking to you more and more. The conversations weren't long – more like short exchanges of words, whether about his family’s well-being or any leisure activities both of you devoted yourselves after work. Nevertheless, you started calling each other by the others’ given name.
You met with Bella on average once a week. Sure, you were four years older than her, but the age difference never was a problem. You always got along well, and age had nothing to do with it. With time, you've watched Bella thrive during her relationship with Edward and you've enjoyed her happiness. Your relationship had loosened a little, but you didn't hold it against her. With Forks being so small, you could easily meet Bella on the street or in a shop and talk to her about silly things or this boyfriend of hers. It made her blush furiously every time you brought up the topic, especially if Edward waited nearby.
And then, just like that, something snapped. Of course, you heard about their huge quarrel about god knows what, and that Bella wanted to make herself scarce immediately. Charlie called you that night if , by any chance, you could talk some sense into her. Bella not once picked up her phone and then she got her stupid ass into the hospital. And magically reconciled with Edward. That’s when you started to be suspicious. Something wasn’t right about this situation, at all, but you let it be.
Time passed and even though you liked Carlisle as a colleague, you became gradually suspicious about him and his family. Things that you noticed were little, almost insignificant, but something told you that there’s more than meets the eye. Bella herself began to limit contact with you, mainly due to her lack of time for Edward. But when you did get a chance to meet and talk, the subject of Edward still came to the surface.
You tried to understand your friend, while not understanding her at all. You also were in love once but your mother's illness and then your father's death took too much of a toll on you, to experience your first love in such an intense way. It was incomprehensible to you, how Bella could lose her head so much for this boy. And yet you tried, tried to be there when Bella needed you the most. Simply because you were a good friend and also because you needed a friend.
You were left alone, out in this world, with no one to care about and no one to love. Only Bella, as present and, most importantly, alive person, connected you with your childhood and good memories from that time. She was the only one left. You considered her your family and you didn’t want to lose her too. Not after all you’ve been through.
At the day of her birthday, you saw her quickly after her school. You gave her a small gift and you both agreed to meet a day later because Edward's family had invited her to stay at their place. After that birthday, everything changed. The next day Bella went missing. You went to her house exactly as agreed and Charlie said she had been gone for a few hours.
When Bella was found later that evening by Sam, Charlie's colleague, everything became frighteningly clear. The Cullens had moved out of town. Apparently, Carlisle had gotten a lucrative job somewhere else. That didn't surprise you, he was a really great doctor. But how could he not mention a word of it to you? Not that you were so close to him but you considered him a good comrade of yours and moving out of town like this, without a word… It seemed extremely strange to you.
The months that followed were very similar. Bella fell into a deep depression and apathy. You came to visit her, but during these visits it was mainly you who talked. You talked about work, about your next qualification course and about the anniversary of your mum's death. Bella mostly remained silent. Charlie confirmed that, yes, she did go to school, but apart from that, she sat in her room all day and stared at the window.
You knew from Charlie that she was slowly trying to reconnect with her friends. And that she was spending a lot of time with that boy from the reservation. You were happy because it meant that your friend was slowly coming back to life. Maybe not back to normal, not yet, but at least she was trying. And you were trying too. To be a good friend, a good sister to her.
You started talking more during your visits at her house. Unlike before, the subject of Edward didn't exist. It was as if he had never existed. So you did not mention him at all. Bella was healing, slowly, just as you were, when both of your parents died. She was there for you, even if you could only talk to her on the phone because, at that time, she permanently lived with Renee.
For the first time in several months, you hoped that things would somehow work out. In your life, the moments when you were truly happy never lasted long. It was the same this time. One day, you went to Port Angeles to buy new clothes for work. Yours were still from your university days, worn out, but not so long ago you were short of money and preferred to spend it on other things rather than buying new clothes.
By the time you got back to your car it was pretty late. The car park was deserted. On your way to the car, a man accosted you and, before you knew it, he had hit you on the head with something heavy. When you woke up, you were in a squalid alley. The man was pressing you against a wall with all his strength. You only realised what he was going to do, when you felt a cool breeze brush against your bare legs. Your trousers and underwear were almost at your ankles. You started to squirm, trying to free yourself from his iron grip. You heard his quiet giggle next to your ear.
"Don't resist angel, I’ll be quick," he whispered in your ear, pawing at your breasts with his left hand. You felt sick to your stomach. He had hideous breath, as if he had been drinking for three days, then puked and drank again. You started to jerk harder, to pull away, but it only caused you pain. He held tight, pushing against you with his whole body and whispering disgusting things under his breath. When he finally entered you, he tugged hard on your hair. He made no effort to cover your mouth because you didn't even try to scream. You were out of breath, unable to say a word. You were afraid that he would kill you. You wanted him to go away so that the pain would end and you could finally go home.
When he finished, he let you go and just walked away. You stood there, half naked, frozen and shaken, for god knows how long. You were unable to move. When you felt his semen running down your leg, you finally managed to vomit. Your cheek was bruised and scratched from how hard he pressed you against the rough wall. You wanted to go home, but you didn't have the strength to get up from the street.
You weren't sure how much time had passed, but you finally got up. You got dressed and walked to your car. Everything hurt. You didn't want to, but you knew, you had to go to the hospital. You could not leave it like that. He had already hurt you, but what about the others? You couldn't let that happen. All the way to the hospital in Port Angeles your hands were trembling. Returning to that memory, you didn't even remember how you got to the ER.
At the hospital, they took care of you properly. They called the police. Two female doctors were there for a medical examination. The nurses were very nice. You tried to put on a good face. You've thought about how your sexual experiences has been so far. Your first sex, like most people's, was terrible. Your boyfriend was two years older, you were 17 and it all went wrong. You were in pain. He didn't seem too happy either. Up until you graduated from high school, you tried to make it work somehow, but there were never any fireworks. It wasn't until college that you discovered the good side of sex.
However, you never had sex with someone you loved more than life. You haven't met anyone like that. And you were sure that sex with that person would be unique and exceptional. Until now, of course. Lying on a hospital bed, you felt exploited. Abused. Filthy. Humiliated. How can one do something like that to another person? The nurse asked if someone could come and pick you up, and you didn't have much of a choice. You called Bella. While she was on her way to the hospital, you let the police officers question you. You mechanically slurred the words as if it wasn't about you at all. As if it wasn’t you that had been raped.
As soon as you saw Bella, you were no longer able to pretend that nothing had happened. You were sobbing and she hugged you tight, telling you that he would pay for it. You weren't so sure about that. You wanted to be home as soon as possible, so you went back to Forks. Bella said nothing while driving because there was nothing that could be said. In the shower, you scrubbed yourself so hard with the pumice that you thought you had taken off all your skin. To your absolute disgust, you could still feel his touch on you. You could hear him whisper against your ear and you could smell his hideous breath.
A week has passed. Bella texted you every day, and you were able to hang out almost every other day. She was a good sister, a great friend. She didn't want to leave you alone in this. Despite being offered leave, you went to work. You didn't want to keep thinking about what happened. Each time, after taking a bath, you were unable to look in the mirror. On the first day, right after scrubbing, you decided to take a look. You had bruises on your stomach, thighs, buttocks and breasts. Your forearms were scraped, your cheek was scratched and bruised. The worst of it was that you had been bleeding for days. The gynaecologist said, it was due to too much force, and the fact that you actively resisted for a while.
You were trying to get back to normal. You went to work, you were seeing Bella and taking your course. But no one could touch you. You didn't even shake hands to say hello. You didn't care at all, you couldn’t endure a touch anymore. Not in any way. You didn't get your period, but the doctor said it could happen. It was a shock to the body and a lot of pain to bear. Also, you bled for almost a week after the rape.
You started to be afraid to go out alone. When in a shop or at work, if anyone approached you from behind, you started panicking and hyperventilating. You couldn’t walk ordinarily on the street. You looked behind every two or three minutes to assure yourself that nobody was following you. Your hands trembled while driving the car or making the tea. Your eyes were starting to water as soon as someone even tried to touch you. You had nightmares and you started losing your mind because of this.
When your period did not come in the following month, you began to worry. Surely you couldn't get pregnant with this... monster. Not you. Of course you have checked. You would not be able to live in such ignorance. It turned out that yes, you indeed were pregnant. When the doctor confirmed it, you fainted. Not you, not like that. You didn't even think you'd ever be a mum. Let alone like this. You hated your body even more and the fact that it had betrayed you in such a villainous way.
You knew this path led to madness. You were in an even worse mental condition, than after losing your mum; than after dad died in the accident. You have shed countless tears. You didn't want to abort this pregnancy, and at the same time you wanted it with all your heart. If only you were able to defend yourself. Break away from him and run as far away as possible. It would never have happened. But you were weak and didn't even have the energy to scream. Would it have made any difference though?
You were constantly beating yourself up with thoughts about whether you should keep the baby, when something completely bizarre happened. Jacob called you that he had to rescue Bella after jumping off a cliff. Annoyed, you got in your car and drove up to the Swans' house. Bella's car wasn't there, so you waited patiently in yours. When they arrived, you were boiling with rage.
“Have you lost your fucking mind?!” you shouted, as you got out of the car.
Bella rolled her eyes. She looked miserable. Her eyes were bloodshot and she was soaked through. She smiled weakly towards you.
“It was just for fun, you know” she muttered, as you hugged her tightly. It was your first closer contact since…
“It was just for sport,” she tried again.
You snorted in annoyance.
“Yeah, sure, get inside before you get sick.”
As you both stepped onto the porch, Jacob unexpectedly grabbed Bella's wrist. They shared a look.
“Are you sure about this?”
“Yes. You can go now, Jake,” she muttered, trying to disentangle herself from his grasp.
You smiled weakly at him, while Bella was looking for her keys.
“Cool, I'll take care of her until Charlie gets back. Thanks for saving her stupid ass,” you said. Jacob smiled amused, but still seemed slightly tense.
“No problem. Always at your service,” he joked. “Well... See ya around,” he said goodbye and walked away to his car.
You walked into the house with Bella.
“What were you thinking? You could have died” you muttered under your breath, stripping off your jacket.
“Well...actually I wasn't thinking, like, at all” Bella admitted, smiling apologetically at you.
“Next time think about Charlie,” you said, hugging her once more. Your body screamed that you shouldn't do that, but you were glad that Bella was okay.
While Bella changed into dry clothes, you made hot tea for both of you. Someone knocked on the door. The knocking was not from the front, but from the courtyard. You walked slowly to the door and opened it. Edward's sister, Alice, stood in front of you. You wouldn't have known what she looked like, if Bella hadn't shown you pictures of her. But other than that, you knew quite a bit about her, because when Bella was still with Edward, she couldn’t kept her mouth shut about Alice.
“Hi. Can I come in?” she asked politely. She tried to look normal, but there was something in her behaviour that made you nervous. You were about to reply, when Bella appeared in the kitchen.
“Alice!” she squealed, throwing herself around the brunette's neck. After a moment, she pulled away and looked at Alice in disbelief. "Are you really here? Or am I just dreaming this?" asked Bella.
It was your turn to roll the eyes.
“Of course she’s here” you said, now slightly annoyed. “Don’t be bothered by me, please, proceed to whatever you wanted to say.”
Your sarcastic tone was not intended, but justified. You were slowly beginning to get fed up with this family's games. First they move out and turn Bella's life upside down, and now the big comeback? Something's not right here. Besides, at that moment, you weren't the right person to play with. You had enough problems of your own and your life was messed up enough. What you didn't know at that moment, was that everything was about to change fundamentally very soon.
Alice took no notice of you.
"Bella, listen. Edward thinks you committed suicide. He told me that he doesn't want to live either, so he is on his way to the Volturi to ask them for an execution."
You had no idea what she was talking about. Bella was terrified, and you didn't know what was going on here.
"What, who the fuck are Volturi? Did Edward get involved with some cult? Also, how did he know Bella killed herself?" you asked, not understanding anything of what Alice was talking about earlier.
"We have to go to Italy, Bella,” she ignored you once more. “If they refuse him, I'm not sure what he'll do" as Alice spoke, Bella began to gather herself quickly to leave.
You grabbed her hand.
"And where do you think you are going?" you asked in disbelief. Bella looked at you apologetically.
"Y/N, I have to go. They're going to murder him. Just the fact that I'm alive will convince him."
You snorted in disbelief.
"You're dead serious? And can't you call him and tell him it's a misunderstanding? Besides, Bella, this guy ghosted you. He left you here, alone, with not one explanation and you want to fly to the other side of the world to save this dumb ass?" you asked, trying to take your mind off this ludicrous circumstance.
“Oh my god, we’ll take her with us if she’s not going to back down” said Alice in exasperation.
“And to your kind information, I won't back down. Your douchebag brother and the rest of your family turned her adrift. I was the one who pulled her out of her depression, and I will not let the exact same thing happen again because of any of you,”you hissed out in anger. You saw something in Alice's eyes that you considered to be admiration.
You looked at Bella expectantly.
“Y/N, I still love him. I cannot let this go” Bella whispered and you felt as your chest tightened. “Please…”
You heaved a heavy sigh.
“Okey, but I’m coming with you,” you decided and noticed that Alice's eyes were momentarily clouded with mist. You had no idea what was going on here, but you were sure that this whole affair with the Volturi, whoever the hell they were, didn't sound good.
After a few seconds, Alice looked at Bella, then at you and back at Bella.
“Get your coats, we have to go now,” she said.
“But Alice...” protested Bella.
“There's no time for that. We'll explain everything to her on the way. If we start now, we won't get out of here until noon” she muttered exasperatedly, walking out of the house. You looked at Bella.
“Bells, what's this all about?” you asked, and she just sighed quietly. You both quickly got your shoes on.
“We'll tell you on the plane but I'm afraid the Volturi won't like that a lot,” she said with worried expression on her face.
When you were at the airport waiting for a plane, you had countless questions in your head. Why the fuck Edward was pulling such nonsense? Why to be so dramatic about thing that didn’t even happen? Did this idiot really get involved in some sort of cult? And why was his sister so concerned about it that she decided to tell you ‘everything’, whatever needed to be said? However, the question that kept you wondering was who were the mysterious Volturi and what could they possibly resent about you?
One thing you were sure of. There hadn't been a moment since the sexual assault when you hadn't thought about it. And now your thoughts were occupied by the mysterious Volturi and you immensely wanted to find out what it was really all about.
⋎⋎⋎
On a plane ride, you found out that vampires are no fairy tales and your best friend was in love with one. It was a wild thought but, as soon as Alice started taking, you knew it wasn’t a joke. You were given so much information at once that you were unable to respond to anything as Alice finished her long monologue. You had a drink of water, although at that moment you very much regretted not being able to drink whisky.
“Okey, lets say I get most of this…” you said with a low voice, trying to be careful with what you’re saying. “But can you tell me who are Volturi and why would they want to decapitate Edward?” you asked, looking sideways, afraid that someone might hear.
Alice let out a sigh.
“The Volturi are the equivalent of the justice system in our world. They are the ones who created the laws that help us hide from the world, and they are the ones who enforce them. They consider themselves… sort of royalty, as their leaders – Aro, Caius and Marcus – are over three thousand years old.”
If you were to be honest, you were not very good at processing this information. Three thousand years? The first thought that popped into your mind was that they must be immensely lonely. You were sure you wouldn't want to live so many years without having anyone worthy by your side. Later, Alice quickly summarised all the laws that every vampire must obey. They weren't complicated, but when you thought about it a little longer, some of them weren't so easy to follow.
“I don't want to whine, or come off as ungrateful or anything like that, but... didn't you just break the law? By telling me about you?” you asked cautiously, not knowing if what you were saying was right.
Alice sighed again, this time heavier than before.
“It’s complicated” she said succinctly, which interested Bella, who was eating some kind of sandwich.
“This vision of yours was about [Y/N]?” she asked Alice curiously. Alice merely nodded. When Alice told you about her gift, and this was at the very beginning of the story, you found it hard to believe. It wasn’t so unbelievable now.
"Eat something," Alice said to you. "It's good for the baby" she added after a moment, seeing you hesitate. You swallowed heavily, as you suddenly felt sick. The memories of that evening came back.
Alice smiled softly, as if knowing exactly what you were thinking about. And this was supposed to be Edward's gift.
"Do you want to know the sex of the baby?" she asked, and your eyes almost fell out.
"Can you predict that?" you asked in disbelief. She and Bella both smiled. Alice nodded vigorously.
"Yeah, sure. I can't predict if the baby... you know, if it will be born, however, the sex I can tell you.”
You pondered on it, while eating your sandwich. The nausea eased, when you could think of something different than that unlucky evening. Before you knew it, you fell asleep and Alice woke you up when you landed in Italy. As Alice drove the stolen car, you tried to admire the beautiful views of Tuscany outside your window. When you had almost reached Volterra, you thought how wonderful it would be to live here.
⋎⋎⋎
This stupid boyfriend of hers. That was all his fault. Of course, Bella made it at the last minute. You, together with Alice, went to abandon the stolen car somewhere. Although, you had a feeling that you would be returning the exact same way. You tried to reassure yourself. Of course you’ll be returning. Or maybe not? If you were honest, you gave no fucks about it. You had no one who’d wait for you at home, your parents died, you were brutally raped not so long ago, and you didn’t even know if you wanted to keep the baby. Maybe dying today isn’t such a bad idea?
You have reached the square and entered the palace at a very convenient time. The guy who looked like a wardrobe and the other one, much shorter than him and blonde, looked like they were about to murder Edward in this instant. And actually, you felt like you could’ve murdered Edward too. Barely Alice closed the door, you didn't even glance at the two of them, but immediately began to scold Edward for what he had done. To hell with his gift!
“You stupid, immature, irresponsible, reckless and selfish bastard!” you started descriptively, and even Bella was taken aback by your behaviour. Alice raised her eyebrows and two other vampires looked at themselves and then straight at you. Edward had no time for any reply. “If you ever, I repeat, if you ever again do something as childish and irresponsible as expose my best friend to a nervous breakdown and months of depression, I promise you, here and now, that I will decapitate you myself. You're old, and yet a five-year-old child is smarter than you. You utter imbecile,” you hissed with hatred.
Of course, your malice towards him was temporary, but it's been a long time since anyone has angered you like that. The shorter man laughed under his breath, and the other one, who looked like a wardrobe, said:
“Can we keep her? I like the way she’s ruling the roost.”
He fell silent, as a short, pretty blonde woman entered the room. Her face was like a child's, but her eyes... bright red, staring at no one else but you.
“Jane” greeted her Edward. She didn’t even look at him.
“Aro sent me to see what was taking so long” she said. The atmosphere immediately became tense. Edward and Alice seemed to stiffen at the sound of Aro's name. You were curious but not frightened. Not yet.
Jane turned and immediately started walking towards the long corridor. Bella just looked at Edward, and you glanced at Alice.
“Do what she says,” she muttered to you and you both kept pace with the couple in the front.
Needless to say, it was the most stressful and also the most terrifying lift ride you've ever experienced. Not to add the creepy music background. You guessed it was supposed to make you feel better, but instead it made your whole stomach go up to your throat. You were standing right in the middle, next to Bella, holding Alice's hand. The vampire, who looked like a wardrobe, kept looking at you. You took a deep breath to calm your nerves. Puking on someone's shoes isn't going to make this situation any better. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Edward smile. Yeah, the situation you’ve found yourself in was extremely funny indeed.
When you reached the main chamber, you didn't know what to look at first. At the vampires standing against every wall? Not very wise of you. At the marble floor? Nothing to be afraid of for now, so no. You probably should have looked at the three thrones in front of you and the vampires that sat on them, but instead, you were interested in the Latin phrase engraved between the columns above you.
You glanced at your company. Edward looked as if he was about to die. Maybe that's what's going to happen? Alice looked very out of sorts, and Bella, well, she was hanging onto Edward's arm and also looked like she was about to leave this world for good. She was unnaturally pale and you though she was going to faint any second. But it never happened. The rest of the room felt extremely comfortable. For a moment, you turned your head towards the boy who called out to Jane. You did not let go of Alice's hand but you did not feel any anxiety. Curiosity prevailed, mainly because you had come to terms with the fact of your imminent death.
“Sister! Sent you out to get one and you bring back two. And two halves,” the boy who’s just called Jane his sister probably was talking about me and Bella. “Such a clever girl,” he praised her like he wasn’t his sister but someone else entirely. You sighed heavily. Maybe they’re also into incest-kind-of-relationships? Who knows. You looked above your head again. There was a short inscription “vita brevis, ars longa” but you knew the rest of it. Latin was obligatory in every medical school.
When the man from the middle throne stood up, it was to him that you directed all your attention. You felt that something about him was... you had no idea how to describe it, but you felt a strange pull towards him. As if some invisible force had power over you.
“What a happy surprise!” he said pointedly, wide smile on his face. “Bella is alive after all. Isn’t that wonderful?” he said cheerfully, while walking towards Edward. At that exact moment, you realised that you had managed to get yourself into a huge mess. The lair of the vampires. And you were only a weak human. Recently raped. With a baby under your heart.
As soon as the man stepped down from the platform, you were unable to take your eyes off him. His posture, the way he spoke, his demeanour, it all made you feel incredible respect for him. You’ve never felt this secure and calm in your entire life.
“I love a happy ending,” the man said, while he took Edwards’ hand into his. “They’re so rare.”
You were wondering why this man took Edward’s hand in the first place. You did not have to wait long for an explanation.
“Aro can read every thought that I’ve ever had. With one touch” Edward explained to Bella but you were listening too. Very carefully listening. You’ve finally managed to know the name of the vampire. Aro. It suited him well. Although his eyes were a little scary, you were delighted with his charisma and approach to guests. You realised that indeed, they are called the royal family for a reason.
Aro smiled to Edward.
“Her blood appears to you so much,” he whispered, and you had a hard time hearing his words well. Aro’s gaze rested on Bella. “It makes me thirsty. How can you stand to be so close to her?” he asked Edward, who was feeling more and more uncomfortable. You could tell by the fact that he was practically standing like a statue.
“It is not without difficulty,” muttered Edward from behind his clenched teeth.
You swallowed hard, as Aro turned his gaze to Bella again but he smiled.
“Ah, I can see that” he said pleased, moving away from Edward and focusing all his attention on Bella.
“Although you’re a quite soul-reader yourself, Edward, you cannot read Bella’s thoughts” he made a rather dramatic pause, still staring stubbornly at your best friend. “Fascinating” he said, not hiding his curiosity.
You managed to look elsewhere, than at Aro. The man on the throne to your left seemed unusually agitated. He fixed his gaze on you, as if his life depended on it, yet you did not feel uncomfortable. You were surprised to discover that an invisible force was also drawing you towards him. You almost took a step forward. You tried to remember the man from a few minutes ago. He looked as if he had died in that chair a few centuries ago. And now he seemed genuinely moved.
“Brother” the man spoke to Aro, as he got up from his throne. Indeed, there seemed to be an urgency to the matter, for Aro turned around in surprise. You had the impression that the man from the throne had not risen from it for a long time.
“You knew about this, and you brought her anyway?” you heard Edward's quiet whisper, directed at Alice.
Alice looked at her brother, then at you and finally at a curious Aro.
"It would have happened anyway. Better sooner than later" Alice murmured mysteriously. You still didn't know what it was even about. The third man, the one on your right, did not share his brothers' patience.
"Aro, let's hurry this up, Heidi will be here soon, and we don't want to frighten our guests" he said ominously, grinning like a madman. You were far from solving this riddle, but as soon as you looked at him, you felt the same attraction and enigmatic pulling as towards the other two.
Aro took his brother's hand in his own and you could see that his eyes would have lit up with happiness if they could.
“Ah, my dear Marcus! What an exceptional news!” intoned Aro cheerfully, heading towards you. He was slow in his movements, exactly so that you would not be frightened by him. All his movements were framed by an incredible grace.
“My dear, if I may, what is your name?” he asked, coming closer to you. You were unable to take your eyes off him. It was exactly, as if he had hypnotised you, only the feeling was more addictive. You didn't have to have a gift or to be a vampire to know that. For a split second, you ran out of breath and just stared into his red irises.
“My name is [Y/N]” you said, with your voice trembling, as your throat tightened hard under the intense emotions. You couldn't believe it was really happening. Maybe it was just a dream? Maybe these three beautiful men are just a figment of your imagination? You didn't even want to think about the fact that it might not be true.
Aro smiled encouragingly, while looking at you with all the attention that he’d possibly give you. You felt like nothing more was more important than you to him at that exact moment.
"It is an incredible pleasure to meet you, [Y/N]. I am Aro, but you already know that.”
The smile never left his face and during this brief exchange of words, neither of you took your eyes off the other. You felt that the atmosphere in the room had changed. Aro extended his alabaster hand in an inviting gesture.
“May I, my dear?” he asked you politely.
You gulped. Of course, you wanted to show him that you didn't want to give away their secret. You wanted to show him the strange bond you felt towards him and his brothers. However, there were things you didn't want him to see. You felt deep down inside that this attraction had an explanation and you didn't want him to see... Not that. You’d felt exposed and extremely embarrassed. There was also another issue. His hand. You'd hugged Bella twice since it happened and just now you were holding Alice's hand. You didn't know if, when you touched him, you'd start screaming or crying because you were so afraid of someone else's touch.
Yet, his hand looked so inviting, almost familiar, as if you'd already had the chance to touch it before. Aro himself showed no impatience. He waited, still gazing into your blue irises with his crimson eyes. You extended your hand towards him, at first cautiously, and then with a little more confidence. You took a deep breath, before your fingers made contact. When it happened, you felt as if you had come home after many years of wandering. He closed your hand in his, just as he had done with Edward's. His skin was cold, but he handled you extremely gently. You stared into his eyes as he looked at your thoughts and memories of your whole life. You knew instantly when he was done because he smiled sadly at you. He squeezed your hand gently in his.
"Never again, my love. Never again," he assured passionately, and then he leaned down to place a kiss on your hand. It was so light and as gentle as a breeze on a summer day. You couldn't help but smile.
Aro clapped his hands. He was clearly pleased with what had just happened between you.
"Aro, will you explain to me what's going on? I'm sick of waiting," said the nervous brother, who was the only one with blond hair. Aro smiled widely and turned towards him.
"Ah, Caius, you'll never guess. Finally, after so many years, our mate has honoured us with her presence" he said overjoyed and Caius frowned in awe. You were already able to tell that this did not happen often. Marcus, on the other hand, was sitting on his throne, smiling, still looking in your direction. You didn't miss the glances of the other vampires either. Was it some sort of celebration when Marcus was smiling?
“What does that mean?” it was Bella who snapped that question. Aro immediately appeared by her side. He gently stroked her hair, pulling an unruly strand behind her ear. You felt the sting of jealousy, when he touched her face. You should be the one asking that question and not her.
“Ah, and dear Isabella. What to do with you,” he wondered aloud, as if asking others for advice. “As I have far more important matters to deal with....” he began, looking directly at you. “I’d love to see if you’re an exception to my gift as well,” he whispered to Bella, extending his hand towards her. She didn't have much choice, did she? She took his hand, a little hesitantly, but after a short while Aro moved away.
“Interesting” he muttered. “I see nothing.”
“You already know what you’ll do with her, Aro” said Marcus, his eyes never leaving your person. “Just do it, as we want to know our little angel a bit more.”
You looked at Bella for a moment. She was terrified, not only with her own case, but also with yours. You have already guessed that you are not going anywhere. They would never let you out of their hands. Aro knew perfectly well that you didn't even have anything to go back to. Of course, you had plenty of questions, but you were sure it wasn't about your case now. Just about Bella's situation and what the Cullens had done, or rather what they hadn't done. However, you guessed it, Bella was afraid you wouldn't get out of here alive, and at the same time, you were worried about the exact same thing but about her.
Aro was smiling continuously.
“I have an idea” he said, after a long while. He approached Alice this time. “Would you be so kind, dear, and show me if you saw Bella's transformation in your vision?”
You were smart enough to know that it wasn’t a request. Alice undid her glove and boldly gave Aro her hand. He was absent for a moment and then smiled again. You were impressed by the aura he spread around himself. When he smiled, you felt like smiling too. You still had the impression that it was only a dream, and simultaneously you were sure that it was really happening. Aro's touch was definitely real, you couldn’t forget his cool hands embracing your own.
“Ah, lovely. I know everything now,” he declared. You and Bella probably looked similarly confused, but you weren't the least bit concerned and she was as pale as a sheet.
Aro turned directly to Edward.
“As I have seen Isabella's transformation in Alice's vision, I can let you go with peace of mind, my dear young friends. I trust that a date will be set sooner, rather than later and that I will be able to see for myself, what your mate will be capable of, Edward. As for you, Isabella, you are promising immortal material and I hope your potential will not go to waste," he said, this time speaking directly to Bella.
She was still brave enough to look him in the eye.
“And what with [Y/N]? You never mentioned what will happen to her” she noticed, looking in your direction. You smiled gently to her.
“I’m staying here, Bella” you said calmly, trying to reassure her with your tone of voice that all shall be all right.
You saw pure admiration and joyousness on Aro’s face as you said that.
“Isn’t she remarkable, brothers?” he asked Marcus and Caius, who looked as if they had just received the most beautiful Christmas present.
Bella seemed to be thoroughly outrageous.
“You can’t be serious [Y/N]! You cannot stay here, please, come back with us. You cannot be here while you’re pregnant” she cried, holding your hand and looking at you with disbelief.
What she said made you very uncomfortable and extremely upset.
"Bella, I have nothing to go back to. My parents are dead. You knew that if Alice told me everything, it would have to be resolved somehow," you stated matter-of-factly, squeezing her hand in yours. "I can't go back there, Bells." Your throat tightened with despair as memories of recent events flooded inside your mind. You tried to hold back tears.
"I am a shadow of my former self. I'm afraid to leave the house alone to go shopping or to work. This paranoia is overwhelming me, Bella. I keep turning behind me to see if anyone is following me on the street. I cry at night, knowing that it doesn't change anything. And then there's this unfortunate baby," you sighed helplessly, trying not to burst with tears. "Even if I keep it, I don't want it to have a mother who's afraid to leave the house. I can't live like this, we both know that" you whispered, squeezing her hands in yours again.
“But you cannot possibly be mated with all three of them” Bella whispered with despair in her eyes. You only smiled, sensing that this sentence got on Kings’ nerves, especially Caius’s.
“I think it’s predestined, Bella. Just as you are destined to be with Edward, I do belong here, with my mates” you said cautiously, glancing at Aro and looking for approval in his eyes. He was only looking at you with delight, as he said nothing.
You saw that Bella had hard time processing such information, whilst Edward and Alice said nothing at all. You knew that Alice knew prior about this, and Edward could see the vision in her thoughts. You pulled Bella into a comfortable hug.
“Hey, sister, we don’t see each other the very last time. We’ll meet again. Probably in a different…condition but still.”
Bella looked devastated.
“You promise me that?” she asked warily, her tone full of hope. You smiled at her.
“Of course I do.” You kissed her cheek and caressed her long, brown hair. “We can call each other, you know. It’s not like I’m moving to the Moon,” you joked, to release the tension a bit. To your astonishment, everybody in the room laughed at that. It made you blush, just a little tiny bit.
After another farewell, in which this time you also included Alice and Edward (barely, because you were still mad at him) and an official farewell from Aro, who told them to give his friend kind regards from him, the guests left the chamber.
They left, and Aro was immediately by your side. He gently stroked your long blonde hair, but didn't touch a single piece of a skin. After the display of your memories, he probably knew very well that you did not wish any touch for the time being.
You still couldn't free yourself from under his spell and if you were to be honest, you didn't want to at all. Aro offered you his arm.
"I believe, we have much to discuss, my love."
You took his arm gratefully.
"I have a ton of questions," you admitted as you walked out of the chamber with Marcus and Caius slowly following you. You didn't need to look back, the strange bonds that drew you together informed you of their presence in a yet unknown way.
Aro, as usual, smiled magnificently.
"My dear, one thing at a time," he said in a gentle tone, as he patted your forearm with tenderness. When you entered the study with the round table, Aro immediately pushed back a chair for you.
"No one is to disturb us" you heard Caius' sharp tone as he closed the door behind you. You tried to feel comfortable and at ease. After all, this was your home from now on.
Part 2 | Part 3
#volturi kings imagine#volturi squad#volturi coven#volturi kings x reader#aro volturi#caius volturi#marcus volturi#aro volturi x reader#caius volturi x reader#marcus volturi x reader#volturi kings#the twilight saga#twilight revival#the twilight series#volturi#original writing#original story#aro volturi imagine#caius volturi imagine#marcus volturi imagine#my writing#female reader#bella swan#edward cullen#alice cullen#jane volturi#alec volturi#felix volturi#demetri volturi#volturi kings x fem!reader
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more than words, pt.3
A/N: Thank you for all the love! 🥺🥰 overwhelmed by the reaction I’ve had to this story! Super excited that so many of you are coming along for the ride! There is a tag list for this—let me know if you’d like to be added! (I apologise if I’ve missed anyone!) I hope you enjoy! ❤️
Pairing: Francisco ‘Catfish’ Morales x f!reader, best friend!Benny Miller x f!reader
Word count: 3.3k
Warnings: swearing, alcohol, general first date nerves that trigger my anxiety x10
pt.1 / pt.2 / pt.4 / pt.5 / pt.6
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He was trying to listen. He really was, but God, how many times can you hear the same thing over and over and over again before you start to drift away from the conversation? He knew the answer. He had a very short attention span when it came to certain subjects – he’ll admit that freely – so when you continued to gush about his best friend, his main man, naturally his attention fell to the couple seemingly having an argument by their truck in the parking lot. Hmm… wonder what they’re fighting about? He purses his lips, watching the girl deliver one hell of a slap across her boyfriend’s face and strut away, tears streaking mascara down her face. Cheater. Definitely a cheater.
“Benny? Are you even listening to me?”
His eyes roll back to you, taking in your narrowed eyes and angry chewing as a slice of pizza dangles from your hand. Was he listening? Well, he did for the first few minutes… does that still count?
He finally answers, tone flat and uninterested. “No.”
“Ben.”
He shrugs, gesturing to the scene outside the window with a flick of his head. “Malibu barbie just smacked the shit out of her beau.”
Your head snaps to where he was looking, shamelessly curious. “Cheater?”
“That’s my bet.”
You both fall quiet, watching the strangers play out a scene that really should belong in a cringe-worthy daytime reality show while you chew. It’s almost depressing, how eagerly you both watch someone else’s life seemingly crumble in public. But the longer they scream and cry, the longer they yell and fight, the harder it is to tear your eyes away.
“Shit.” Benny sighs, reclining in the booth and stretching his arms up and behind him once the couple in conflict goes their separate ways. “That was the most interesting thing that happened to me all week.”
“Not me,” you sing with a smile, fondly remembering the phone calls and texts you had been sharing with Frankie the past few days. Benny sighs in irritation, neck cracking as he rolls his head on his shoulders.
“I swear, if you talk any more about Fish, I’m gonna throw myself out of this fuckin’ window.” He levels you with a challenging stare, lips twitching as you eye the glass critically. “I’ll do it, too. Try me.”
Deflating, you sag in your seat and fiddle with the peeling label on your beer bottle, realising with a wave of slight shame that you had been talking about Frankie ever since you sat down at the table. “I’m sorry, Benny. I’m just excited. He seems really cool, and nice, and –”
“Alright then.” He stands abruptly, kneeling on the worn leather to brace a shoulder against the glass panel with a look of severe concentration.
“Okay! I’m sorry, I’m sorry – sit down, you idiot!” Laughing loudly, you tug at his shirt until he sits with a lazy grin and you shake your head. “God, you are such a child, Benjamin.”
He snorts, pinching a cold fry from the basket in the middle of the table and waving it at you. “You love me.”
Grinning, you snatch it from his fingers, and chew it loudly, grinning at his pout. “I sure do, especially when you set me up with your gorgeous fri–”
He groans loudly, “Enough, woman. I’ll throw you out of this fuckin’ window in a minute. Get me another beer.”
-
“You’re callin’ the wrong friend, angel.” Benny drawls lazily, “I’m no good with these kinds of pep talks.”
“Benny, I’m freaking out, please –”
The car feels small, cramped. The open windows letting in the cool evening air does nothing for you trying to suck in a lungful of oxygen as you pull nervously at your jacket. Have you overdressed? Underdressed? What would he be wearing? You hadn’t been on a first date in months.
“Look, I can almost guarantee you he’s somewhere having this exact conversation with another friend of mine. You’re both stress heads. Just relax – he’s gonna love you.”
You stare vacantly at your steering wheel, swallowing around the lump of anxiety stuck in your throat. “I think I’m gonna puke.”
He snorts in amusement, “Well, if you’re gonna do it, do it now – puking on the poor guy isn’t a first date thing. And don’t forget to rinse your mouth out.”
Leave it to the younger Miller to make you feel ten times worse. “Oh God. Ben –”
“You’ll be fine. Now get out of your car.”
“But –”
“Get. Out. of your car.” He waits, listening intently to the mechanical whirr of your windows as they close, smiling when he hears the loud thump of your car door shutting. “There we go. Now breathe, and get marchin’ – you got this. And don’t call me again – I’m watching a fight. Pay per view isn’t cheap.”
“Right. Sorry. Thanks Benny.”
“Anytime, angel. Have fun.”
You ring your hands as you start walking the short distance to the bar, running through a last-minute check of your appearance. Nothing in your teeth. No stains on your clothes. You fidget with the hem of your skirt, brushing the non-existent dirt from the fabric and making sure it’s not horrifically tucked in to your underwear at the back.
Oh God, your palms are so sweaty. What if he shakes your hand? His hand will slide right off. He’d be mortified. Who even goes for a handshake on a first date anyways? You’re being silly. Everything’s fine. You look great. Did you put deodorant on?
The twisting of your stomach and panicked rush of thoughts thankfully pause when your eyes catch Frankie standing outside the bar, hands buried deep in his pockets and dark eyes flickering around at the passers-by somewhat nervously. When they land on you, the apprehension seems to melt from his shoulders and he grins. Unable to stop the smile creeping on your face in response, you now walk without the sick feeling of anxiety creeping up your throat.
He strides forward to greet you, and for a brief second, you wonder how you should greet him. It’s not like you were strangers, per se, you had been talking on the phone all week, but where did you stand in the physical sense? Certainly not a handshake.
Throwing caution to the wind, you bounce forward and greet him with a hug, hoping to high heaven he doesn’t push you away and call the whole thing off.
He doesn’t.
Inwardly screaming, you melt at the feeling of a pair of strong arms winding around your waist, a small quiet chuckle brushing past your ear. Oh shit, oh fuck… he smells divine.
“Hi,” you mutter shyly when you pull away, a flush of warmth flooding through you from top to toe when he smiles kindly and hovers only a step away.
“Hi,”
You can’t help but admire his features up close; the ones that were lost on the photo Ben had shown you when first trying to convince you into this arrangement. His eyes were a lot darker, tousled curls longer than they had looked when they were hidden under a well-loved hat. A light flush of pink sweeps up his neck and along his cheeks, and you watch it fondly with a wild flutter of your heart.
Okay, you could just stand here all night and stare at him, but that might freak him out a little… maybe try speaking. Talk. Just talk. Say something smart – something stimulating. First date impressions and all that.
“It’s fucking freezing.”
What? No. You did not just say that. Seriously? That’s what had to bubble from your mouth? Are you kidding?
You want to face palm, want to just turn around and march right back to your car with a text to Benny saying ‘thanks, but we can’t be friends anymore’ and just disappear from the face of the Earth. God, he’s going to give you so much shit for this.
Thankfully though, Frankie doesn’t seem bothered by your blurted out statement in the slightest, and even grins, nodding in agreement.
“Yeah, it is.” He watches you shift on your feet, smile widening just a little more at the look of complete horror that had just washed your features before he had spoken, and then half turns, “Shall we?” Oh God, what was that? Pope’s gonna kill him. You’ve got his head in a complete spin and now he’s forgotten Pope’s whole pep talk. Shit. Shit. Be cool. Be cool... what the fuck does ‘be cool’ even mean?
The bar’s warm when you both walk in side by side, Frankie’s hand placed softly on your lower back as he leads you to the bar, and then through to a spare table, nestled out of the way and tucked into the farthest corner after he buys your drinks. He lets you sit first, and you’re pleasantly surprised when he stays close and, instead of sitting opposite you, he sits to your right, knees bumping yours softly under the table.
It’s not until you both sit, quiet and fiddling with your beers while sharing nervous smiles, that you remember something you had been meaning to ask all day.
“Oh. How did Mena’s appointment go?” You ask immediately, recalling his slight worry the day before over her slightly warmer than normal forehead and uncharacteristic crankiness. Your stomach plummets when he shoots you a startled look.
Oh no… have you blown it? Were you not meant to ask about kids on the first date or something? What were the rules for this kind of thing? You’d never dated someone with a baby, you had no idea what was okay to ask and what wasn’t. You guys had literally only just sat down, and here you were, ruining it already. That’s got to be the quickest end to a date, well… ever.
Panic creases your features and you frown in worry, “Sorry, should I – should I not have said anything? I’m sorry, I’ve never –”
“No, no – you’re fine! I just… I didn’t expect you to remember.” And then he smiles. Blindingly. The dread crushing your chest quickly morphs into something sweeter, something that has your heart quickening. “She’s okay – she’s getting her molars. Thank you for asking.”
You smile, turning bashful under the pure admiration shining in his eyes, and shrug lightly.
“It’s alright. I was worried for you.” You’re quiet when you admit it, unsure if that’s something you should be upfront about with only knowing him for such a short period, but he seems to take it in stride, smiling fondly at you and reaching a hand to cover yours softly. The immediate heat from his skin encompasses yours, shooting wave after wave of electric tingles up your arm and straight to your chest.
If your pulse was racing before, it’s downright wild now.
He flushes when your fingers part ever so slightly, letting his nestle in between yours, and then you’re smiling at each other, laughing quietly as the awkwardness all but evaporates.
You talk about everything. Growing up, moving around, Frankie’s time in the military being a pilot. You have so many questions, but pick up on the wave of tension that rolls through him at the mention of flying. For a short moment, you wonder why he didn’t want to talk about such an achievement – being a pilot was incredible, but not wanting to ruin the easy-going atmosphere that had fallen over you both, you leave the topic of flying instantly, and switch for talking about Mena, thankful to see the light return immediately to his eyes as he gushes about his little girl.
“Can I ask a question?” You ask sometime later in the evening, now comfortably closer to Frankie as your legs tangle under the table.
He hums, sipping on his third beer and nodding, “Of course.”
You watch your fingers play with his on the table, before grinning up at him slyly, “Why ‘Catfish’?”
He groans, throwing his head back with a chuckle, and wipes a hand across his face.
“My whiskers.” He finally admits with a playfully defeated sigh. When you frown in confusion, his grin widens, and he scratches his fingers along his jaw and through the patch of facial hair. “The guys used to give me shit because I can’t grow much more than this.” He gestures to his face, rolling his eyes. “Used to say I had whiskers – like a catfish, apparently.” He chuckles, shrugging light heartedly. “It just seemed to stick after a while.”
You’re laughing, and it keeps the smile planted firmly on his face. What a sound.
“Well, it’s an interesting nickname, but I think I prefer Frankie.”
He softens, unable to resist melting closer to you, and nods, “Me too.”
He likes the way you say it… sweetly, softly. He’s desperate to hear it fall from your lips more, in all sorts of ways.
Disappointment floods you both when you notice the late hour, Frankie explaining dejectedly that he should probably go and relieve his babysitter before said babysitter gets too comfortable with his refrigerator and the beer in there. You can hear the fondness in his voice when he tells you about his sitter for the evening, Mena’s tío – another close friend of Benny’s apparently – as you leave the bar, his hand automatically falling to tangle with yours.
“I’m this way,” you point a thumb over your shoulder, fully expecting to say your goodbyes outside the brightly lit bar, but frowning in slight confusion when he merely nods and starts to walk the way to your car.
“Oh – are you parked over here, too?”
He shakes his head, pointing to the complete opposite direction. “No, I’m over there. I don’t want you to walk to your car alone.”
Your insides turn to jelly, smiling to yourself as you grip his hand a little tighter. Thoughtful. He returns your smile, but hates that you seem so surprised by the notion of being walked to your car in the dark. What kind of losers had you dated previously that either didn’t walk you safely to your car?
“Thank you for tonight, Frankie.”
He grins, thumb rubbing soft circles over your knuckles. “Thank you – I had a great time.”
“Next time, it’s my treat.” You say, hoping you weren’t thinking too much of something that wasn’t there. Would he even want a second date? Was he just being polite saying he had a good time? Is that what people said before never calling them again?
Unbeknownst to you, Frankie was having a hard time reigning in the enthusiastic excitement that had flooded through him the second you had spoken. You wanted another date? With him? He had to mash his teeth together to stop the eager grin threatening to break his face completely in half. Thank God he hadn’t blown it. You were… God. You were fucking incredible. He owed Benny – big time.
“I can deal with that,” he eventually agrees, face warm and giddy at the prospect of taking you out again.
You turn and envelope him in a hug when you reach your car, breathing in one final lungful of whatever delicious aftershave he had used, and smile to yourself against his shirt when he folds his arms around you, a hand cupping the back of your head to keep you pressed tightly against him.
Pulling back to say one final goodbye, you’re struck by how close his face seems, eyes flicking across his face before meeting his dark ones.
Suddenly trapped in a gaze that had a fire licking up your spine, your breath goes in a stuttered exhale. Rough fingertips trace your jaw, and then you’re holding your breath entirely as he leans in closer. Anticipation kicks in, heart thumping through your chest as he closes the distance much slower than you would like, and you fight away the wave of impatience that screams at you to just push forward and kiss him.
You don’t expect him to stop however, only a breath away from your lips, and you panic for a small second, wondering if you’re doing something wrong, but when he murmurs a quiet question, it takes all the strength in your legs to not fall to the fucking ground in a lump of melted goo.
“Can I kiss you?”
God yes. Please.
Unable to stop the shy smile that tugs at your lips, you try not to nod too eagerly and definitely fail miserably. You want this, more than what you’ve ever felt with anyone else. Frankie had you feeling like a giddy teenager with a huge crush and you were desperate to feel more of it, to see where it goes and what it could develop into.
At your nod of approval, he moves in the rest of the way, hand moving to cup the side of your neck below your ear, and he sighs lightly when your soft lips finally meet his. The kiss is tender, warm, and does nothing to soothe your raging pulse. He can’t hear your heartbeat, can he? God, can you hear his? He briefly worries, but when your lips move against his, his mind blanks.
His moustache tickles your lip, nose bumps gently with yours. Your hands find his chest, fingers gripping at the soft material, and for a moment it feels like you two are the only ones in existence, floating in a hazy whirl of space.
You take a minute to open your eyes when he eventually pulls away, and when you do, you find him gazing at you with a shy smile and a rosy flush across his cheeks. Lashes fluttering as you blink, you try to get a hold of your heart beating heavily against your ribs while your lips tingle from the aftershocks of his kiss.
Holy shit.
Before you can even think it through, his shirt tangles in your scrunched fist and you pull him back to you, replanting your lips against his with a desperate urgency he meets head on and returns eagerly. His hands, previously gentle, now grip at your waist, squeezing the flesh greedily as you let him walk you back into the side of your car. The metal is cold, even through your jacket, and you arch into him, moaning softly when his tongue traces your lip.
Your knees buckle when his tongue tangles with yours, and he presses you harder into the car to stop you dropping.
“Holy shit.” He breathes huskily after separating, lips widening into a grin when he sees you mirroring his breathlessness. You giggle softly, the fire roaring in your stomach turning into an affectionate warmth that floods your system when he brushes his nose along yours tenderly. “You’re so beautiful.”
“Stop.” Your smile turns shy, teeth digging into your lips as he chuckles again, dark eyes shining. He watches you wrangle your breathing into something semi normal, glad he wasn’t the only one that got swept up and carried away with the moment.
He traces your cheek, planting one more, less hungry and more affectionate, kiss to your lips.
“Goodnight, mystery girl.”
“Goodnight, Frankie.”
He backs away, face split as he smiles, eyes admiring you before he turns and starts to meander away to wherever he was parked, turning to look at you over his shoulder every few steps. You climb into your car, grinning at the final wave he sends you before disappearing around the corner.
Finally alone in your car, you let out the disbelieving chuckle you’ve been keeping in all night, face feeling hot as the aftereffects of such a great date rests pleasantly in your stomach, mind running through every little moment of the night. Starting your car, you start the drive home, unable to stop touching your lips every so often, insides clenching at the memory of his lips moving against yours.
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Tags: @anu-simps @seasonschange-butpeopledont @withasideofmeg @you-got-me-starry-eyed @emilykjh @peterhollandkait @sara-alonso @starlightsearches @bookishofalder @empress-palpat1ne @shadowolf993 @rosiefridayrogersunday @canyonmirrors @eoz-stuff @blackonemasie @layniapetrovnaaa @alberta-sunrise @goldielocks2004 @betterthanbucky @linkpk88 @afootnoteofhappiness @livilottie
#frankie morales x reader#frankie morales x f!reader#frankie morales x you#francisco morales x reader#francisco morales x f!reader#francisco morales x you#frankie morales#francisco morales#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal#triple frontier#triple frontier fic#benny miller x reader
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Laurel Wreaths & Animal Teeth (9)
(c!technoblade x fem!reader)
(so people showed they liked chapter 8 well enough so I wrote chapter 9! also how miffed would everyone be if... this was also maybe a dreamxd x reader fic? like idk i’m just having some persuasive thoughts. also don’t forget to show this chapter some love or I won’t have the motivation to do chapter 10! reblogs and comments are the best! <3)
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Wilbur did not like this ‘Reader’ person. God she was just as bad as Quackity, coming into L’manberg and making demands and acting like they even HAD a say in HIS country. Now more than ever he wished he’d have just exiled Quackity instead of humoring him with this ridiculous election. There shouldn’t BE an election. HE was the rightful president of this country! He fought and died for this country. Put his blood, sweat, and tears into it! HIM! Not them!
“-ur?”
This whole election thing was a mistake. He should have just listened to his gut.
“ilbur?”
But he’d been pressured by everyone to ‘be fair’ or whatever. Nobody knew what was best for L’manberg but HIM.
“Wilbur!”
The curly brunet jolted a bit at the sudden shout to his left, he blinked and felt himself unfurrow his eyebrows before looking over at his vice president. Said teenager was looking at him curiously, eyebrows raised in a questioning way. No doubt wondering what his friend was doing just standing there silently and chewing on his thumbnail like a madman. He was still tense but gave a quick ‘sorry’ before saying he was just lost in thought.
Tommy gave a semi awkward laugh and joked that it looked like he was trying to catch the wall he was staring at on fire just by staring at it. Wilbur gave a polite chuckle at the younger man’s attempt at mood lightening humor before sobering instantly and saying in a deadly serious tone that had the blond stiffening up anxiously,
“I don’t like this ‘Reader’ person you’ve been hanging out with Tommy. She seems really judgmental and arrogant. Not to mention her attitude. She’s argumentative and childish. She very clearly doesn’t care about you or L’manberg.”
That last part hit Tommy right in the chest like the blow from a size 12 boot. How could Wibur say that? You did care! You did! You wouldn’t have-.. People who don’t care wouldn’t-..
Tommy’s hurt showed on his face, making Wilbur sigh in sympathy before clapping the younger boy on the shoulder and saying that it would be best for him to just focus on the L’manberg election. This Reader person was just serving as a distraction from Tommy’s job as vice president anyways. And Tommy didn’t want that, right? Wilbur had entrusted him to be his VP over everyone else. He couldn’t slack on that, right? Tommy just gave a mumbled ‘yeah, s’pose not’ but it was clear he didn’t have his heart in it, though that was all the affirmation Wilbur needed to think the conversation was over..
-0-
You sat in the audience with Tubbo and Fundy for a bit while the candidates talked to each other up on the stage. Fundy seemed sweet, if not a bit mischievous. Though you supposed that should be expected from a fox hybrid. You smiled when his ears went back after you asked why his uniform was a lighter color than the others, unable to not think he looked adorable. But when he huffed, pretty obviously upset but trying not to show it, you frowned. And you pursed your lips when he explained that it was in ‘baby colors’ because Wilbur thought it would be cute for his ‘little champion’ to have a different uniform compared to everyone else.
You couldn’t help but awkwardly ask, “Aren’t you an adult though?” To which Fundy gave a slightly loud and exasperated, “YES!” that made you feel sorry for the poor hybrid. You gave him a reassuring look and said that well if he didn’t like the uniform then he didn’t have to wear it. Or if he liked it save for the color then just dye it darker to match the others. Fundy looked a bit put out and replied that he’d thought about dying it or just not wearing it but then his dad would be all depressed and hurt. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes and say that he shouldn’t set himself on fire to keep others warm.
“You don’t have to do whatever your dad wants you to just because he’s your dad or cuz he’ll be sad. You’re an adult now Fundy. It’s time you make decisions for yourself in mind, not your dad.”
Fundy started up at you with wide eyes, like he’d never heard anyone tell him that before. Which was worrying but you put it out of your mind before continuing,
“Caring about others is important, yes. But you can’t let yourself be miserable just to avoid maybe making your dad sorta bummed out. That doesn’t seem fair to you.”
Tubbo chimed in from his spot to your left and said that the uniform was a symbol of their independence from the Dream Smp, they wore it to show they were loyal to L’manberg. He didn’t say it accusingly or even angrily, just in a factual matter-of-fact way. You said that might be true but then asked why Fundy’s uniform was different? Shouldn’t they all look the same if they supposedly stood for the same thing? If they’re meant to have a deeper meaning then they shouldn’t be altered for a joke. You said he had to see how that would make Fundy feel left out. You asked how Tubbo would feel if he were the only one with a different uniform and stood out. The brunet boy’s goatish ears drooped and he mumbled that he’d be sad. You ruffled his hair and turned back to Fundy.
“Look Fundy, if you wanna keep wearing the uniform as it is, that’s fine. If you wanna wear it but only after altering the color, that’s also fine. But if you wanna drop the uniform altogether then that’s fine too. It’s up to you, Fundy.”
Fundy looked contemplative, like he’d never thought he’d had a choice in the matter. But here he was with three whole options thanks to you. He honestly wasn’t sure which one he’d end up choosing, he had a lot to think about. But he gave you a grateful little smile and soft ‘thanks’ that made the corners of your lips quirk up. Though your chat soon came to an end when Fundy saw Niki approaching. He and Tubbo waved happily to her and gestured for her to come over. She stared up at you with mostly hidden surprise and said hello before Fundy introduced you both. Niki looked almost shy as she gave a short wave up to you. You chuckled and greeted her warmly and said you liked her uniform, pointing out hers was a different color than the others, like Fundy’s. She looked down at her blue version of the L’manberg uniform and flashed a grin and said,
“Yeah, I just liked the lighter blues better than the bright red and navy.”
You brightened and gently tapped Fundy’s shoulder with the back of your hand and cheerfully pointed out that if Niki could choose to alter her uniform from the original she was given then he should be able to do the same no problem. His ears twitched happily and he grinned, showing off his canines and nodding. This led Niki to asking him what you meant and him explaining he wasn’t happy with how his uniform was dyed. She agreed with you, if he wasn’t happy then he should change the color. But she joked that he should avoid any bright greens… Fundy let out a bark of laughter before Niki gasped and pointed out they, as in she and Fundy, had to go get ready. Tubbo raised an eyebrow and asked if they were still planning on running in the election. Fundy sighed and said yes, like he’d been giving that same answer repeatedly. He probably had been, sadly..
“Oh, you’re both running for president and vice president?” You asked good naturedly.
Fundy nodded, waiting for you to give some kind of remark about him running, or how it was against his dad, or something else. But instead you just flashed him an encouraging smile and wished him and Niki good luck. You glanced at the fox hybrid and the blonde next to him before nodding and commenting that they both looked smart, with good heads on their shoulders. You thought they’d do just fine. Fundy’s tail was wagging from the genuine encouragement, making Niki giggle a little. The two did actually have to go get ready, so you and Tubbo said good luck and waved them off before chatting about this and that. The election speeches would be starting soon..
-0-
He was watching her again.
He couldn’t help it. He’d started watching her just to ensure she wasn’t going to pose a threat to the server, but the more he watched her the more he started to actually enjoy it. She was like him and Drista, maybe not exactly, but more than anyone else on the server. But at the same time she was so incredibly different. Seeing her interact with villagers and mobs and now players was intriguing. She was so much more powerful than all of them combined, but she had no trouble blending in like she was just another player. End sake, most of them even seemed to gravitate towards her!
The only other time he’d seen a deity blend in so well with mortals was… Dream. But he tried not to think about that too much.
His currently invisible form phased through the building he’d been lurking beside, going up until he had a better view of the seats in the audience by the stage. He watched her and the small hybrid boy she’d endeared herself to bid a fox hybrid and blonde girl goodbye before taking their seats. He watched her sit and talk happily with the brown haired boy so easily. He wanted to learn to do that. It may be foolish but he wants to be like her. Happy, open, accepted, loved. He’s powerful, yes. He’s the most powerful being on this server without a doubt. But… it gets lonely. Sure Drista is around sometimes but she sleeps so often, preferring her dream world more than the waking one. And Dream… well that’s complicated.
His brother and him have a… tense relationship after the whole ‘falling from grace’ debacle that happened so long ago. Dream barely speaks to him anymore. Actually the last time they’d spoken face to face was after that silly little war Dream had been in not too long ago. He’d told him that he just wanted to sleep afterwards. At the time he didn’t bother to involve himself in the daily lives of the server’s players like Dream did so he wasn’t exactly sure of the intricacies of the whole ‘disagreement’ that led to the fighting. But according to Dream some players wanted to govern themselves because drugs? It all sounded utterly stupid to him so he just sort of didn’t absorb any of the details Dream was complaining about. To him it seemed like the more involved with the players Dream got the more stressed out and tired he became. Though he hadn’t spoken to Dream since their last talk when Dream had vented about all of this.
‘Perhaps I should visit my brother soon,’ the floating entity thought with a hum before he faded from the realm, drifting back to the End.
-0-
Some time had passed and during it you chatted with Tubbo casually, idly noting all the people who started to trickle into the seats around you. You recognized most in one way or another. Some more than others. Like you’d watched a good deal of the ‘main characters’ on the dsmp. And while you knew the names and skins of the lesser involved players you didn’t watch their videos much. Like Callahan, Punz, and Ponk. You knew the bare bones info about them. In fact most of what you knew was from clips and animatics you’d seen on youtube..
You tuned back into the election, watched from the front row as the rally began. It looked like Quackity was going first, alone too it seemed since George was nowhere to be found. Apparently he was ‘too busy being gorgeous’ to bother showing up. You pursed your lips when you noticed Quackity was sounding a touch nervous at first. Which you could understand, speaking in front of a crowd was always tough. Especially if you’re not really used to it, which even then you’d heard that public speakers said they never truly got rid of the jitters going out in front of a crowd causes. So you sent some good vibes to Quackity, he may not be the one you necessarily want winning this election but.. well you don’t want him to embarrass himself either. But it turns out he.. didn’t do great but didn’t bomb either. It didn’t help that the others running were making little comments through his speech.
He spoke about caring about the people of L’manberg and how his endorsement was KSI, despite the fact KSI hadn’t replied back to him. Not a great start. Also Jesus Christ himself apparently. That had actually made you laugh a little. And you laughed louder when you heard the chime to signify you’d gotten a message, only in multiple around you. Turns out everyone had gotten a message from Dream on the main channel.
<Dream> god endorses swag2020
Quackity laughed, cheering loudly while Wilbur rolled his eyes and Tommy sighed. Then it was Pog2020’s turn to show off their endorsements. The first of which being Vikkstar it seemed. You couldn’t help but think it was so surreal to see these… well normal people from real life being canon characters in the Dream SMP universe… apparently. Well that seemed to make the crowd go wild in disbelief and amusement while Tommy pounded his fist on the podium triumphantly while Wilbur cheered. After that Wilbur shoved Tommy aside so he could speak into the podium and said he also brought in an endorsement. And then he introduced…. Schlatt. You wanted to facepalm so bad. You’d actually forgotten this part from the videos. It had totally slipped your mind that Wilbur was the reason Schlatt even knew about the damn election in the first place.
And to top it off the man was clearly drunk or at least hungover. He didn’t even seem to know where the hell he was. Idly you wondered when he got unbanned by Dream as you watched the messages from Schlatt roll through on the message system. It was mostly him asking where the fuck he was and if the ‘big fuckin’ wall’ he was next to was the Great Wall of China. You facepalmed and heard Tommy say he was going to go fetch him. Quackity was laughing and saying one of their endorsements was ‘some old man’, and you rolled your eyes because little duck boy was gonna be engaged to that ‘old man’ soon.. But you kept that tidbit to yourself. Though when Quackity called the ram hybrid ‘babe’ and he said to not call him that, making Quackity laugh you raised an eyebrow, figuring they were already together! Nonchalantly you wondered how much stuff you’d missed.
And then came the yelling.
Schlatt started rambling about how democracy was overrated and he didn’t ‘need a president’, how he’d be his own president. All while Tommy and Wilbur tried to talk over him and get him off the stage. Then he started shit talking Quackity, asking everyone if they really wanted HIM to be their president. Then he went on a tangent about how Quackity’s vice president ‘stole his woman’, which just caused everyone to laugh, even you. You have to admit, the man was funny if nothing else. Made you wish he wasn’t an alcoholic drug using abusive asshole. Blah Blah Wilbur stole his heart, blah blah Coconut 2020, etc that you were half listening to.
About then is when Tommy, still laughing at this whole debacle, glanced down and noticed you and Tubbo sitting in the front row. He gave a bright grin and waved to you both, to which you both smiled and waved back. This little interaction somehow managed to catch Schlatt’s attention, even through his booze addled ramblings. He just stopped mid sentence and stumbled over to Tommy and asked that the fuck he was even doing. Tommy gave an awkward laugh and said he was just waving hello to his friends. Schlatt gave him a ‘wtf’ look and scanned the crowd for who the blond boy was talking about. His horizontal oval pupils finally landed on Tubbo, making the boy give a slightly stiff wave to the older male. Schlatt stared at the boy for almost a full 20 seconds, making Tubbo sweat nervously.
You could almost tell yourself that you saw a flash of recognition in the goat hybrid’s eyes, but before you could blink it was gone and he was instead turning to look at you. Your eyebrows lowered as his gaze perked up and a grin you’re not above describing as ‘sleazy’ crossed his features. His eyes raked over your form, making you give him an unamused look. Schlatt leaned over to Tommy, missing how the teen sorta leaned away from him, and asked who ‘the baddie with the fat ass’ was. Tommy grimaced and replied saying for the other man to not say something so gross.
“That’s Reader, don’t say nasty shit about her man!”
Schlatt laughed and told the younger man to not be such a little bitch, he had to see how hot this woman was! The hair, the horns, the ASS! Before Schlatt could continue to make lewd comments about your person Quackity smacked him with a golden carrot and started cursing him out in Spanish. While the two argued Wilbur went up to the microphone and said that the ACTUAL people running were going to be going into the White House to have a little chat and they’d be right back. Then he and Tommy ran off, Quackity, Schaltt, Niki, and Fundy hot on their heels. Leaving the stage totally empty. Everyone in the audience gave each other side glances before looking up when you stood from your chair and headed to the podium.
Tubbo blinked in surprise before hopping up and following after you, calling your name and asking where you were going. You ruffled his hair and said you just wanted to say one thing to everyone in attendance. He hummed and followed after you, curious to see what you were up to. You knew the outcome of the election, sadly, and didn’t think there was any way to change it really. But you wanted to impart some wisdom onto the citizens of L’manburg really quick before all those dorks came back after finishing their nonsense. So you sat down on the stage, legs hanging over the side by the podium, and grabbed the mic and sighed before saying to the crowd down below,
“Listen up everyone. I’m not part of the other campaigns or anything, but I wanted to just say something real quick to all of you.”
The crowd watched you with rapt attention, wondering who on the SMP you were. You started off with a light chuckle, saying you’d never been a public speaker so if you started rambling and not making a ton of sense then that was why. Then you took a breath and just said what was on your mind.
“I’m not here to endorse anyone or try to convince you to vote for this or that person. I just wanted to say that despite all the shenanigans going on today that this is actually supposed to be pretty serious. Goofing off aside, you all are going to be voting for the person in charge of your country. The person tasked with ensuring you are all safe and cared for. Being president is a big responsibility. One that shouldn’t be taken lightly.”
You looked at each person in the crowd, lots you knew OF but didn’t know personally. But you made sure to tell them what you thought a president should be.
“Being president shouldn’t be about having glory or power. It should be about working to make sure all your citizens are safe, happy, and above all; THRIVING. If the citizens are miserable or not being heard then the president has failed. So I want you all to think hard about who you want to vote into office. Who do you think will honestly care for your needs as a country? Who will defend you and ensure you’re all living your best lives?”
The crowd seemed to be listening to you, none of them had interrupted you anyways. And Tubbo was smiling, having apparently thought you’d done a good job speaking. But you heard the sound of approaching voices and sighed again. You’ve been sighing a lot today, but that’s not really a surprise is it? Instead of dwelling on it you conclude your speech with a simple,
“Just keep in mind who you’re voting for, because you’re going to be stuck with them for the next few years.”
Then you placed the microphone back on the podium and grabbed Tubbo around the waist, and to the boy’s shock you jumped down from the roughly 8 block high stage. He let out an involuntary high pitched yelp of shock that was abruptly cut off when you both landed on the ground unharmed. He blinked then started laughing, which made you begin to snicker. He shoved your shoulder and called you a bastard for freaking him out. You just teased him for even thinking you’d let him get hurt. He changed the subject when everyone saw Schlatt coming over, though you could tell he was happy to hear you cared. But the moment was over once Schlatt stumbled into the audience, looking more than a little out of it. He hobbled over to the bed Tommy had put down for him before he’d gone on stage and collapsed down onto it, for some reason in mismatched armor and clutching carrots. You had no idea where he got any of that stuff because he’d shown up with nothing but the suit on his back you thought.
But then Wilbur, Tommy, and Schlatt all came back from wherever they’d been while talking. And it didn’t look like they’d come to any peaceful resolution, though you’re not surprised. And you’re even further unsurprised when Quackity announced he was going to be pooling his votes with Schlatt. But that right now the debate was over and they just had to let the voting go on until the next day. So with that Wilbur ended the rally and bid everyone a pleasant rest of their day. And soon everyone had dispersed, leaving Tubbo and you waiting by the stairs that led up to the stage. Tommy walked down with Wilbur, the older of the two looking pensive. But as you all walked down the main path it seemed Wilbur was deep in thought. You watched him while Tommy and Tubbo chatted, but as the cobble path turned to wood the older brunet said he’d see them tomorrow and walked off to who knows where.
Then Tubbo gave you and Tommy a secretive glance and said to follow him, which you both did without complaint. That’s when the brown haired boy started saying he’d been ‘hoping for the best but planning for the worst’. Tommy asked what he was going on about, ‘planning for the worst’?? So Tubbo explained that he’d made a little thing for if things went bad. That’s when you noticed he was leading you both far from the main area and towards the edge of the L’manberg territory by one of the border walls. And there hidden under the water thanks to some craft sign placement was a hidden entrance into a secret tunnel. All of which led to a bunker. Tommy was in disbelief at the sight, frantically asking his best friend when the hell he’d even had time to make this! Tubbo just gave a vaguely cryptic reply of, “I don’t sleep.” Which you scolded him for. You placed a hand on his head and rocked it back and forth a little roughly and said he was a growing boy who needed sleep!
“Sleep is when your body grows! If you don’t sleep you’ll be short forever!” You huffed.
That made Tommy burst out into borderline hysterical laughter while Tubbo shouted in outrage. You laughed a little and easily blocked the hits Tubbo was weakly trying to land on you. But once they both settled down Tubbo actually showed off the supplies, like potions and such, he’d prepared for Tommy and Wilbur should anything go sour. Tommy, still shocked but appreciative, thanked his friend and said they should go tell Wilbur. They asked if you wanted to come or if you’d like to sleep for the night. You just shrugged and said you weren’t really tired. But you told them THEY needed sleep however.
They groaned but you shushed them and made them go back to their place and sleep. They said they didn’t have a bed for you but you just pulled out a book and said you’d read by the fire until it was time to read the election results. They complained that they weren’t tired but you hushed them and said you could see how they were more sluggish compared to how they’d been that morning. And after some weak whining they eventually gave in and placed their beds down, took their armor off, and crawled under the blankets. Meanwhile you sat by the furnace, book in hand and hummed to yourself softly as you read. The two boys fell asleep faster than usual, chalking it up to the busy day they had. Not thinking to link it to feeling safe as they laid in bed.
-0-
It felt like barely an hour had passed before the sun was creeping up over the horizon. You’d finished going through the enchantment book forever ago, and it sat on your lap while you stared down at the fire in the furnace. You wondered when the election results would be read out and breathed in slowly, feeling tired but not physically. With nothing else to do you got busy making some breakfast. Just something simple, eggs with toast. But it worked to wake the two boys up, the smell of the fresh food rousing them to the land of the living. They practically devoured the breakfast before slipping their armor on and saying they should go now. It was a decent time to start the day. So they led you along to Wilbur, who had been in the midst of leaving his ball house. The two boys said they had something secret to tell him, and he actually hadn’t wanted to talk ‘government topics’ with you around. You rolled your eyes behind your mask but agreed to go wait by the stage until they were done.
So you sat alone in the audience, watching people slowly arrive as you did. Ponk was the first, his signature fire colored mask and lab coat(?) revealing who he was. Then right after was HBomb, dressed almost like a pirate for some reason? Or maybe he was a referee? He was in black and white stripes with a headband so you’re unsure, could go either way. And then Punz with his stylish white hoodie and gold chain. Then you saw Niki coming down to greet Eret. He was in full netherite and nobody gave her a second glance which sorta surprised you. They’d betrayed everyone hadn’t he? You admit you don’t know much about her. But they seem to be on good terms with Niki at any rate. Regardless he stood to the side, not really sitting with anyone. So maybe things weren’t as gucci as you thought. You were distracted from thinking about it as a man in a L’manberg uniform and headset arrived. Jack Manifold you think. Walking past him was George and Dream.
You narrowed your eyes at Dream, something about him felt off? Which was weird considering you’d never met the man in person before so you’re not sure how you could tell if he was ‘off’ or not. But something about him was just… weird. Maybe it was the hood and mask obscuring his entire upper body save for some dirty blond hair poking out from said hood. Or maybe how his body moved fluidly like a person but… it also didn’t seem to be in the right proportions. His arms and legs felt a teeny bit too long while his torso seemed shorter than it should be.
‘Maybe it’s the cut of the hood and pants making it look that way..’ you thought to yourself.
Wilbur speaking suddenly caught your attention, and when you looked up at the stage you saw all the candidates standing there while Tubbo was hurrying over to the seat you’d saved for him next to you. Seemed they were starting now. The little goat hybrid gave you a nervous smile before focusing on the results. Wilbur started reading but paused to ask Tommy why he was standing with his own mic, and then said he should be standing behind him. You watched them bicker a second before Wilbur gave in and let Tommy stand with his own mic. You smiled and shook your head fondly when Tommy gave a silent cheer for himself ‘winning’ that one. Once that was done Wilbur began explaining what was going to happen. They weren’t just reading off the results, they were also going to be inaugurating the winner as president. And then explained how the new president would make a decree and how the first decree was very important.
“My fellow L’manbergians, and by that I mean Ponk, HBomb, and Tubbo. And the others in the crowd as well, including Tommy’s tall friend…” he said while gesturing to you.
Tubbo loudly cheered for Wilbur, making Tommy and Quackity laugh. You giggled a little at his antics but mostly kept silent to hear. Wilbur announced he had the election results in his hands, then held up an envelope and continued by reading off the four competing parties: POG2020, SWAG2020, COCONUT2020, and SCHLATT2020. And there had been a total of 220,000 votes. This of course confused everyone and Quackity pointed out there were barely 10 people in the audience, so how had so many votes been cast. Wilbur let out a tired sigh and elaborated, saying he’d accidentally opened the vote… to all the other servers when he’d broadcasted the election live…
Everyone started kicking up a fuss, some upset strangers from other servers were weighing in on a server they weren’t even a part of while others found this all hysterically hilarious. Wilbur settled the crowd down and explained there’d been some voter fraud as well, but he’d gotten rid of all the votes that had come from the same communicator protocol. But then he pointed out that all the fraud votes were only voting for one party.. then stared directly at Fundy and Niki. They glanced away from everyone else and Quackity said through laughter that they should be disqualified. Tommy agreed and said there was only one coder in the Coconut2020 party.. But Wilbur sighed when Fundy was silent before saying diplomatically that they should count all the votes regardless of their CP address… Everyone started laughing until Wilbur shushed them and started actually reading off the results, finally.
“In last place is Coconut2020 with 5%,” Fundy and Niki cheered for the votes they did get. Tommy gave them a slightly sarcastic congratulations while Quackity cackled. Then Wilbur continued,
“Then in second to last place with 9% is Schlatt2020…” That was actually surprising to everyone since Schlatt was a very charismatic guy on most fronts and usually never had issues with luring people to his side.
The current president turned to look at Quackity and George then glanced at Tommy and said that the two final running parties were Pog2020 and Swag2020, and coming in third place was…. Swag2020 with 22%. And Pog2020 with 31%. Tommy’s eyes went wide and he practically screamed his joy, nearly tripping backwards in his excitement. He rushed up to Wilbur and demanded to know if they’d won, and when Wilbur said they did Tommy missed the rest of the statement telling him to wait. The blond boy was too thrilled to stop and listen and without thinking he yelled down to you,
“MUM I WON THE ELECTION! WE WON!!” practically bouncing off the stage.
You gave him a grin, mentally cooing over him calling you mom and not even noticing but inside your stomach was churning as you waited for the other boot to drop.. And after Wilbur calmed Tommy he made clear that Quackity and Schlatt had made a deal to pool their votes. Meaning together they had 31% as well. Meaning it’s a tie. This caused an uproar between the parties, everyone seemingly arguing while you puzzled over it being a tie! That hadn’t happened originally… But it was Niki who quieted everyone and pointed out something rather jarring…
“All four of our votes only equal up to be 67%... there’s a chunk of votes missing!”
Everyone was silent before George barked out a ‘what the hell?!’ that made everyone start arguing again. Schlatt was insisting that Wilbur counted them wrong while Quackity demanded they be recounted. Meanwhile Wilbur adamantly said he’d counted right and they were wrong. It took Tommy snatching the slip of paper out of his hand that had the election results typed out on them to get Wilbur to stop shouting. As Tommy read the list of results he mentally counted up the percentages and frowned before saying Niki was right, that was only like 67%! But then Fundy chimed in and asked what was written on the back. Confused Tommy turned the paper over and his eyes went wide. He was in shock and spoke in a normal tone, which just got drowned out by everyone. Seeing he was being ignored he shouted,
“OI! DICKHEADS! You missed the ‘other’ section of the votes!”
That grabbed Wilbur’s attention easily, he’d forgotten all about the ‘other’ voting option. And hadn’t even known anything was written on the back of the slip of paper. He ripped it out of Tommy’s grasp and rushed to read the back, his voice getting more subdued as he spoke…
“With the most votes at 33% is…. Reader..”
---
@salinesoot @lady-bee-fechin @kacchasu @putridjoy @lunawritesstories @galaxypankitty3030 @paradigmax @zachariethememerie @killmewithafanfic @trinity-1002107 @hufflepuff-demigod @truthdaze @exorcisms-with-elmo @redbloodtea @heythereimhaylz @olyink @jackalopedoodles @nikkineeky @artsimatsu @hufflepuff-demigod @corpiet @beepa99 @anxiousnarwhale @bananaaddictmilkshake @realitycanbeajerk @lostandsouciant
#technoblade x reader#techno x reader#technoblade#dsmp#dream smp#mcyt x reader#c!tommy#c!tubbo#c!wilbur#c!fundy#c!niki#c!quackity#c!schlatt#c!george
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thanks for the amazingly edited chapters and translations, i'm always elated when i see that a chapter has dropped on your twitter and i have a lot of fun trying to rap the lyrics out loud. on a lighter note, if the characters in hypnosis mic were animals, which ones do you think they would be? (don't feel confined to the rules of basic biology, siblings can be different animals and so can parents, also multiple characters can be the same animal if you so please)
Ahhh that's a really kind thing to say haha. Now I'll need to put extra effort into the raps... some of them are very much rappable, and some of them I look at later and go, "Wtf? How in the world did that come out of my mouth?"
Hmm... this is a very interesting question... I haven't thought about it much before, but let me give it a shot. Under a cut for length.
Ichirou - Ichirou seems pretty dog-like to me. He’s very oriented around the concept of family and would do anything to protect them. He’s also happiest when playing around with his family, loves food, and is happy performing services for other people.
Jirou - I think Jirou would make a good dolphin. He’s playful and athletic, very empathetic, and does best when surrounded by friends and family.
Saburou - Saburou is, I think, a young horse. He likes to show off and is very talented and flashy, but he can be a little skittish or fragile deep down.
Samatoki - Samatoki reminds me of a crocodile. He’s quick to lash out and very aggressive, but he can also be plenty social and quite friendly when he’s in a good mood.
Juuto - Juuto is a swan. He looks elegant on the surface but can be mean to make ends meet. He also becomes very aggressive whenever anything near and dear to him is threatened.
Riou - Riou is a capybara. He's pretty chill when left to his own devices, and he is incredibly social, capable of getting along with just about anyone.
Ramuda - Ramuda is a sun conure. I like using the caged bird image a lot for Ramuda - thanks, parrot outfit, for giving me a canon justification for this - and so I think a parakeet fits him well, especially the younger Ramuda. He's very inquisitive and likes mimicking human behavior in addition to showing off and being cuddly. He enjoys being around people and can end up depressed when left on his own. He's also loud and obnoxious but perhaps in a good way.
Gentarou - Gentarou's a chinchilla. He's very fastidious with how he presents himself, and he relies on his social groups for his own mental health.
Dice - Dice is a cattle tyrant, because he goes after thrills the way these birds make quick maneuvers in the air to go after insects. Plus, he often hangs around capy Riou to be fed, who enjoys his company.
Jakurai - My friend Cha suggested Jakurai would be an elephant. Besides the size, he also moves slowly and deliberately, is very intelligent and empathetic, and strongly cares for community and taking care of children.
Hifumi - Hifumi is a bowerbird. He can look flashy and delights in showing off for women, but he also takes pride and joy in building and maintaining a good home.
Doppo - He reminds me of a periodical cicada that spends much of its life underground, going about the serious task of feeding, then rarely emerges all at once to make a glorious display of sound.
Sasara - Sasara is a chimpanzee. He's clever, creative, and often playful, but he also boasts a more aggressive side. I think chimps also like melon if they can get it... melon soda...
Roshou - Roshou is an emperor penguin. He looks elegant from a distance but may be a little silly up close. He's very concerned about raising children right in a group environment and is perhaps rather more loyal than he should be.
Rei - Rei is a crow capable of making clever plots and creating complex tools to help him out. He likes horsing around and mocking other people in addition to collecting shiny bling like that gold necklace.
Kuukou - I think he would be a mongoose. He's a little guy, very fierce, and completely unafraid to take on even the most fearsome guys out there. He has a lot of courage and a heart of gold.
Juushi - Juushi would be an owl butterfly or another butterfly or moth with eyespots on his wings. Metamorphosis is a big theme for him, and he uses his flashy outer appearance as a means to confuse and throw off those who would hurt him.
Hitoya - Hitoya is a honey badger. He's tough and can fight to protect the ones he cares about. He also doesn't take shit from anybody and can be a little prickly at times, but his tenacity is what people admire about him.
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