#its just. so fucking long. and its hard to keep track of everyone when they split the party
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Yanderr mafia boss x male reader prisoner, You are a rival of the mafia boss and your group was defeated by his group, thus becoming his prisoner.
Little did you know, he had lust for you and he decides that you will succumb to his desires whether you want to or not.
A new mafia boss coming right up! But no more new mafia bosses after this, guys. I know they're hot, but my masterlist will suffer also, changing it to leader to avoid confusion hope that's okay
Yandere Mafia Leader x Prisoner Reader
M yan x M reader
TW - general yandere behavior, NSFW, noncon
How long has it been? For how many days have you been held captive here? You couldn't keep track. There weren't any windows or other ways to tell time in your damp cell.
You had to wonder if your comrades were doing alright. You weren't too close to most of them, but you were still worried. You hoped whatever they were going through wasn't much worse than what you were.
The leader of this mafia kept a constant watch on you. There was a single camera in your cell, which really wasn't strange, but you could often hear him right outside your door. He'd often come in and watch you "sleeping".
That was one of the more difficult things to do here; fall asleep. You really didn't struggle this much usually, but between the environment and the whole being watched thing, it wasn't easy.
You hoped you might finally get some rest tonight. Or...whatever time of day it was when you closed your eyes.
Your dreams almost came true...until they were crushed by the fact that you felt something choking you. You opened your eyes, taking only a few seconds to realize what was happening.
The leader was in here again, fucking your mouth! You tried to pull away, but he only gripped your hair and forced himself deeper down your throat.
He groaned as you gagged around his dick. It was almost enough to make him cum.
Oh who was he kidding? He didn't want to hold back. Not this time. With a few more thrusts, his seed was flowing down your throat.
He took both of your wrists in his hand as he pulled out, holding them tightly above your head. His free hand mover to roughly spread your legs apart.
"You're my new fuck toy, got that?" Without warning or preparation, he plunged into your ass with a pleasured groan. "I'll stop torturing you, long as you please me."
You didn't have a choice.
He was fucking you anyway, no care for how rough he was being. In fact, he seemed to like seeing you slightly in pain.
You couldn't get away, his grip on you was too tight. He smirked as you struggled, even though it was useless.
"Stop struggling so much or I'll just have to kill you, and fucking a corpse doesn't sound nearly as appealing."
He leaned down and started biting your neck, licking the blood clean as he did. He made sure the marks would be visible. You were his, everyone should know.
Despite knowing you shouldn't enjoy this, you couldn't stop the moans you made. You couldn't stop your cock from growing hard, twitching as it came closer to climax.
Finally, he slowed down, making you whine pathetically. "You want to cum? Think you deserve it? You just have to tell me you'll be mine. That your body belongs to me." He growled in your ear.
You couldn't! You refused, shaking your head.
"If you say so." He chuckled, pounding into you harder than before. Only to stop right as you were on the edge again.
And that became a cycle. He fucked you hard and stopped over and over until you were a whimpering mess beneath him. And of course, he couldn't be fair. While he denied you the right to cum over and over, he repeatedly filled your asshole with his seed. Over and over again until your insides were painted fully white.
All until you begged him for release. Saying anything for him to let you cum. Even that you and your body belonged to him.
"There's a good boy..." His hands released your now bruised legs and wrists, one moving to your nipple as the other made its way to your ass. In one swift motion, he pulled out and replaced his cock with his fingers. They curled in you, hitting all the right spots.
As his hands worked wonders on you, he took your cock unto his mouth and sucked you off. Pathetic as it was, it didn't take very long before you came. He moaned, the sound vibrating around your cock as he swallowed your cum.
"There we go. Not so difficult, right? And you get to cum like that whenever I want for the rest of your life~"
I think that one was pretty decent! or at least, I really hope so
#blarsh writes#yandere#yandere x reader#x reader#male yandere#male x reader#anon ask#yandere x you#yandere x darling#yandere x male darling#x male reader#male reader#male x male#male yandere x you#male yandere x male reader#male yandere x reader#male y/n#yandere mafia boss#mafia boss yandere#mafia yandere#yandere mafia
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Please write Miguel just flipping out over work or miles situation and throwing and yelling things and reader just like breaks down like they’d slowly become used to him being captor or lover but this sets them back so far they need to lock the bedroom door and get away Miguel’s an emotional mess after realizing what he did reader just won’t acknowledge him and if they do it’s flinch away or being scared. He’s trying so hard to make it up to reader
oh fuck yeah!! sorry i didnt see your ask earlier it either didnt show on my notifs or i just missed it lol either way i vibe with this request !!! i hope it’s okay that i made it to where he accidentally nicked reader in his little tantrum, if its not lmk and i can rewrite it with the same prompt?
cw: angst, miguel has a tantrum and lashes out, blood mention, gn/masc reader, items being thrown + broken, sorta flashbacks to when reader was still rebelling, translated via spanishdict, sorry!!, not proofread but when is it ever
—
your husband/captor had been keeping you for such a long time. you don’t know if it’s been weeks or months, but you wouldn’t really be surprised if it happened to be 3 years since your initial imprisonment.
either way, you’d given up fighting him. you weren’t getting out. as long as you played along with his sick game of house, you were fed, had clothes and a place to sleep, a shower, and really anything you could ask for if you played your cards right.
‘anything’ excluding freedom, human interaction, things like that.
he came home in a fit of rage, on the phone with jessica despite his usual habit of turning off anything that made noise and focusing all his attention to you.
“what the fuck do you mean!? ‘we can’t track him’!? he’s a smart kid, why the fuck would he immediately go home? jess, order everyone to his dimension and find—“
“mig? what’s wrong?” you asked, trying to get some semblance of context.
“cállate por un maldito minuto, y/n! i’m on the phone!” he snapped.
“alright. sorry.” you staggered back. he doesn’t yell. not at you, at least. you went to sit on the couch and when his arguing became too much you headed into the kitchen to make something to eat. midway into making your food, you hear crashing.
you run into the living room to see what’s happening. the first thing you notice is the couch is thrown across the room. he also has a glass of water in one hand, a habit he has since he screams when he’s mad. he noticed you as you walked in and he turned to face you.
“this doesn’t fucking concern you. go back to whatever you were doing.” he growled, his eyes a dangerous red.
“the… the couch.” you muttered stupidly.
“yes, i know about the fucking couch!”
“sorry. didn’t like it much anyways.” you blinked back tears. it reminds you of when you were first here. how he’d get so angry at your rebellious behavior. you remember him stopping whenever you cried. maybe that would work now.
other thoughts flashed in your head. him restraining your arms as he bit into your flesh, the long hours you spent trapped in your mind as he’d forcibly hold you like a teddy bear to ‘accustom you’ to his ‘love.’ the blood from some guy who—
no. no, he promised he’d never hurt you. never again.
something compelled to you go towards him with your arms outstretched—usually he loved unprompted affection, maybe it would calm him now.
“i told you go back, y/n. get the fuck off me.”
his claws accidentally extended as he pushed you off harshly.
one thing led to another, he chucked the glass he was drinking into the wall and it shattered just feet behind you. he turned back around afterwards, continuing the phone call.
you heard the sound of something dripping onto the floor and you felt a warm liquid spilling down your cheek. two gashes extended from your cheekbone to your jawline where he accidentally cut you.
miguel took a deep breath, about to snap at jessica, but he sensed something in the air. his head snapped back to you as he got the scent of blood.
you’re surprised—i mean, this is the same man who promised you that he’d kill someone to protect you but would never, never lay a hand on or near you. obviously he was lying to you.
you backed up, one shaky foot at a time, as you collected your thoughts. miguel appeared to be in shock, too. he hung up on jessica in the middle of her sentence.
“baby, i…” he said. he’s struggling to find words, english or spanish. “it wasn’t… i didn’t…”
words failed him again as you let out the first tears of many, the dam of emotions breaking through. you stumbled back, fell, turned around, and sprinted into the master bedroom.
he snapped out of his guilty stupor and began the chase, but he was too late. the door slammed as he reached for you. he heard your choked sobs as you shuddered and gasped for air and then your cries until you had to repeat the process.
“no, no, no, no, no. i promise, i promise that i’m not gonna hurt you. i didn’t mean to, no quise hacerlo, lo juro. i swear. i swear.”
“y/n! y/n, please, unlock the door. please.” he begged, hands on both sides of the doorframe. he had half a mind to tear the door to splinters, but he didn’t want to lose any more progress.
he caught his train of thought. progress. he hated that he thought in that term, but that’s basically what it was. after all this time, all these nights he spent assuring you that he loved you and that he’d never hurt you again, he finally had you decide to be the caring partner that he wanted all this time. now, he wiped it clean.
he’d have to start all over, and all over another time if he slipped up again.
“cariño, please. baby. open the door.” he said in a soft voice. he growled in his throat.
“LYLA, unlock the door.” he muttered to his ai.
you were… a wreck. curled into a ball, crying into the bedsheets, the stench of blood swirling around the room, tears and blood falling onto the blanket in a disgusting mix and staining the down an off-red.
“amor, mi amor, come here. i need to dress your wounds.” he said with a weak smile. “i-i know you’re probably upset or scared, okay, but I didn’t mean to hurt you. i don’t want to hurt you either.”
you frantically shook your head and hugged yourself tighter.
he clenched his jaw and swallowed. he’d been in this situation before. the first day he took you, that time he lashed out until you cried, et cetera. you needed space.
—
it had been three days. every time he saw you it was on the very short walk from the guest bedroom to the bathroom. he’d decided to not force you to sleep with him and instead give you time to recover before you went back to his bed.
speaking of, miguel got rid of all the blankets and sheets and even the mattress in his room because the smell of your blood made it impossible to sleep. he’d been sleeping on the floor since he destroyed the only couch big enough to fit him.
miguel was not in the right headspace for just about anything. with the stress of miles and the fact that he barely got sleep since he wasn’t being held by you every night, he was going a little crazy.
he decided your silence was enough. he was going to fix this. he had to.
quietly, he crept into your room. “y/n? i just wanna talk.”
you shuddered and inched away from him.
“hermoso, i’m sorry. i was in a really bad mood, i didn’t mean to… to do that.” he slowly and gently moved you to face him despite your trembling. he looked at your cheek.
“it’s healing good. sometimes i forget just how smart you are. you’re able to clean it up all by yourself.” he cooed, kissing your forehead.
“i know you want comfort, mi vida. just let me hold you. it’s okay. you won’t get comfort from anyone else; just lay down.” he murmured, wrapping his arms around you. you struggled against him and began breathing heavily.
“no, no, no, no, no. i’m not going to hurt you. i didn’t mean it the other day. i love you. cielo—listen to me—listen!” his words grew more intense as you struggled to break free of his grasp. after he realized he was shouting, he laid you down on your bed himself and he cuddled up next to you.
“i’m sorry. i’m so, so very sorry. you’re so perfect. i love you, cariño.” he chanted ‘i love you’’s and ‘i’m sorry’’s until it had just devolved into sobbing and using your chest as a shield to everything.
—
okay i literally have no idea where else to take this or how to wrap it up but here’s a nice little open ending, sorry if it’s not up to par!!! :(
#thank you sm for the request ahhh!!!!#—asks#miguel o'hara#miguel o’hara x gn reader#miguel o’hara x reader#tw yandere#x gn reader#yandere miguel o'hara#yandere miguel x reader#yandere miguel o’hara x reader
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IDEA FOR CAINE. so you knnow how pomni tought she was in dream? ok so what if we enter the digital circus and thnks its a dream to? where wes tart to do what ever becuase "oh its just a dream" and do it with caine to prove its not but soon later figure that you had actually fucked the ring master and now you have to live with that untill you abstarct. also, i love you...................re writing alot
thank........... you <33
hopefully this is okay! i accidentally made Caine a little mean at the end oops, poor reader.
Caine/Fem!Reader.
nsfw themes. | artwork.
minors dni.
You've been staring at the ceiling all night. Everyone was right.. you don't need to sleep. You don't even feel the urge, it was so.. strange. Unsettling.. it was making your mind feel like an endless void when you thought about it a bit too hard.
You closed your eyes and sighed before hopping out of bed and taking to the halls instead. You needed a walk, get your body moving to distract your mind just a little.
Which did little to help, in fact you were back tracking to your first theory.. surely this all had to just be a dream, you just had to figure out how to wake yourself up. yes that's it! a small sliver of hope.
"Hmm.." You pondered out loud, walking down the long corridor of rooms. Everyone else must be sleep or.. just relaxing their eyes more like. "Caine.. maybe if I.." you were muttering to yourself, walking back and fourth as if you were in some kind of trance.
Little did you know Caine was already watching, one of his eyes were tucked away in the corners of all the large open spaces , including the corridors. He was only half paying attention until you started—
"[Censor] [Censor] [CENSOR!]" Began screaming out every curse word and you would keep doing so until Caine showed up. Which, like clockwork he did.
"Now, now what's all this, y/n!? you'll wake up the others! Not to mention the potty mouth you have! Haven't we been over this already?" Caine said in a cheerful yet assertive tone, staring at you with his hands planted on his hips and waiting for your response.
But you didn't give him one , instead you reached up and gripped his suit collar and yanked him down, planting a kiss onto his jaw just to test the waters. He scrambled and pulled back, "W.. Woah now! What's gotten into your my dear!? You haven't even taken me on a first date yet!" He teased and continued to ramble about how inappropriate and unlike you that was.
Seduce the ringmaster... make him break his own rules, boom. Maybe.. the dream will backfire on itself so bad that you'll wake up?
Or maybe this entire idea was stupid and you're insane!
You shoved that little voice to the back of your head. You had to try something, the whole prospect of being trapped here in the first place was insane!
"A date..? Caine, you've been trapped here for ..well ever! ... Surely you want.. more than just a silly date!" You huffed, and tried to get closer to him but he was keeping his distance. Weary of your actions.
He tugged at his collar as if to fan himself, seemingly a bit tempted by your words, "W—Well , be that as it may, here at the digital circus we have to keep it family friendly we're to be enjoyed by all ages my dear!" He said and twirled his baton a few times within his gloved fingers.
"I know.. but, isn't there somewhere around here we can have a little.. privacy, Caine..~ Just the two of us? I promise no one else will see!"
Caine didn't say anything, he simply cleared his throat and took you by the waist and teleported you both to his quarters. It was grand and a little silly. A red and black theme that matched his outfit, and decor befitting for someone like him.
Caine sat at the edge of his bed and patted his lap.
Oh, god you were really doing this.. was it really this easy??
He tugged you onto his lap, and now you were flushed. But.. he didn't make a move to touch you at all.
"Now my precious , y/n we can start our date! We must take things slow to set a good example!" He said excitedly and flipped on the small tv in front of you both.
Oh we was serious. This.. this wouldn't do... it'd take too long.
You tuned out the television and Caine seemed to just tap his hand on your hip as he laughed at the corny jokes on the tv.
Just then a light bulb went off in your head and you shuffled a little in his lap, ass brushing and grinding against his crotch. You felt him stiffen and try to adjust a little.
"Something wrong?" You said oh so innocently.
"O-Of course not dear! I do hope you're enjoying the show! Bonding is very important for relationships!" He said , seemingly unphased but the sudden hardness poking against your ass was telling you everything you needed to know.
"I agree.. bonding is very important." You said in a low voice while squriming on his lap again, and his hand suddenly gripped your hip. Keeping you still.
"Ahem, heh, I think its best if you keep still dear! Don't want any.. accidents!"
He laughed, albeit nervously.
You took this chance and to turn around on his lap so you were facing him and shoved him onto the mattress. You were straddling him and keeping your palms flat on his chest as you grinded against his clothed erection, "That doesn't feel so family friendly in between your legs Caine.. just loosen up a little.~" You cringed hearing yourself trying to sound sexy but it seemed to be working. He was stuttering and making excuses but didn't push you away. In fact you could feel him twitching beneath you.
Fuck, you were getting more turned on that you thought you would.. when would this dream end..?
You were going to pull back, feeling as if this wasn't working but then you felt two large gloved hands on your ass tugging you back towards him.
"C.. Caine..?"
"Well, it seems I've just thought of way to keep this family friendly and satiate your.. more carnal desires dear! I didn't think you'd be so bold and I must say I'm impressed!"
"W—Well, I just.. I didn't think you'd actually—" You fumbled over your words and Caine took his chance to flip you onto your stomach, snapping his fingers and you were completely naked.
"C.. Caine!? What happened to taking it slow??" You said trying to cover yourself but he made sure you stayed on your stomach , his baton planted on your lower back with a bit of pressure.
"Ubupbup! None of that Y/N," He interrupted and tapped your inner thighs with his baton. Silently signaling you to open your legs and slowly you did, nuzzling the blankets in embarrassment.
"Tsk, tsk, just as I thought! You're making an absolute mess!" He shoke his head in disappointment. Making a spectacle out of your arousal.
"W.. What are you going to do..?" You whined and glanced back at him , his erection straining against his black pants quite clearly.
"Well, I'm going to give you a lesson in sexual education of course! Maybe then you'll believe this isn't a dream."
Your lips cracked into a unsettling smile, realizing the position you were in and.. well you were fucked, literally and figuratively now.
"Oh, don't give me that look dear, where did all that vigor go!?" A silly sound effect followed his teasing words, "I assure you you'll feel just fine by the time I'm done with you!~ Or... you'll abstract and I'll have to throw you into the cellar with the rest of them! Either way, I have a lesson to get on with!" He said while planting himself behind you , gloved hands gripping your hips.
"Keep still, will you?"
#the amazing digital circus#minors dni#ask#caine x reader#tadc caine#the amazing digital circus caine#caine x reader smut
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AITA for trying to save my friend and keep the rest of my asshole friends safe from their bad decisions?
I (M26) just went through this real shitty breakup. So basically, my ex C (M lmao man fuck if i know his age idek if knows it. or has one i guess) has this god-fucking-awful habit of deciding to solve every problem by dying about it and/or fucking off without so much as a word to the people unfortunate enough to give a shit about him, except maybe his sister (unhelpful for the rest of us because she also inherited the "fucking off without a word" gene. man fuck this whole family for making me care about them. whatever). Also, killing himself inside peoples brains thats like a whole hobby for him. like okay either ghost us OR kill yourself in front of us altering the trajectory of our lives forever PICK ONE like a NORMAL person.
Okay wait im not explaining this well. So years ago C and W (M37 now) were partners but C was, uh, in a really bad place mentally (S is telling me this is more diplomatic to say than "crazy af") and that situationship ended as badly as a situationship can end. I mean W's told me he pretty much had his sense of identity as someone separate from C totally destroyed by that for a while, which like, in hindsight its kinda an accidental dick move that our team made him take C's legal identity, but in our defense a) the fuck were we supposed to know?, b) tbf he really did need it not to go back to prison, c) it's not like C was using his identity, on account of the fucking off and effectively-dying-as-a-solution habits, and d) i mean. i gotta admit it's also pretty funny in a really fucked way.
aw shit derailed on a tangent again
recently its just like, we just get so focused on one thing its hard to remember anything else, you know?
S is so good at getting us back on track though. thank god because you would not believe the number of irons weve got in the fire to keep track of, its ridiculous. (i love making my partner be the planner in the relationship lol. highly recommend being a passenger princess in the body sometimes. fuck massages, i'm telling you THIS is what you need after a long day getting shit DONE and taking care of everyone else's messes)
So I met C 6 years ago, right out of basic, when we were privates stationed at the same base. middle of nowhere. shit, this is gonna be hard to explain, just realized i should use different names for C to keep them straight. I knew "A" and W knew "E", i didnt meet E until years later. theyre alters and also the same guy but also not the same guy. dont worry about it if you dont get it bc ive dated both of them and i dont think i do. my life is stupid.
Bunch of bullshit happened, A ghosted (lol. you'd be high-fiving me if you knew him) and then found a problem to solve by dying. you get it by now.
Then i meet E, E encounters a problem and tries to die about it round one (i guess round two, after exploding in W <- LOL. you should be high-fiving me right now), E's sister drags him back to the land of the living, E ghosts, W and i start dating, W tries to martyr himself and disappears because i guess E rubbed off on him (dude i am on a fucking roll. you should be high-fiving me out of pity for my glamorously miserable soap-opera life if nothing else. homophobic not to), our team gets W back, E strolls back like he has no idea why im mad at him, we fight about it, makeup-makeouts about it, and E tries to die about it round two: in my brain boogaloo.
So thats how S and i meet. oops, guess i never introduced S? Feels weird to have to introduce ourself twice, people dont really meet us separately anymore LOL. S (M, ageless) is also C's alter, my partner in life and badassery and brain and body. and obviously freaky sex stuff, that goes without saying but i'm saying it anyway to brag. the swish swish to my stabbing people who really deserve it. Not really interested in your opinion on our relationship, it's not what i'm asking about. we're aware its not conventional, because we're not fucking braindead. Im so sick of all the "oooohhhhh this isn't healthy", "he's a male manipulator and youre codependent i know bc i learned psychology from tiktoks by girls with green hair", "why are you wearing your ex-boyfriend's armor colors while wearing his dead ex-boyfriend's armor while dating and sharing a brain with your dead mutual ex's alter", "have you considered going to therapy instead of a quest against death itself" blah blah blah. If youre so bored you need to judge our life then just get your own 🙄🙄🙄
we've been really on that sigma grindset the last few weeks. S has got our sleep optimized down to a tight triphasic 3.46 hours and we're minmaxing the fuck out of the rest of every day. Biohacked to shit over here. too much to do, so we have to make there be enough of our time to do it. who else is gonna? my teammates? the REDS? we're half batman half babysitter to a gaggle of idiots who can barely be trusted to wipe their own asses, let alone fight their own battles and make decisions like "wah wah wah A is dead let's just give up and cry about it or whatever".
Don't even get me started on W. Oh youre all about character-building wake up and grind self-improvement and taking leadership until we're making decisions you dont like, i guess. WHATEVER. this is why we dont listen to you.
its hard, okay. like, you cant understand the sheer fucking stress were under trying to keep all our plans going smoothly while keeping these guys safe while they're basically actively trying to unravel every carefully-laid thread and also strangle themselves in them. im probably going prematurely grey and also losing some time. its hard to remember when we need to hold back and use the kiddy gloves. i really didnt want to come to holding - uh, we'll call him MC (M25) - by the throat, passed-out. he's like a brother to me, been through thick and fucking thin together, so yeah, i feel really bad about that, my bad, we were the asshole there, but like, maybe stop throwing yourself in the way? like run out into the road you're gonna get hit by a truck no matter how hard they slam the brakes. mfw the conses quence. but im NOT asking about that. everyone's been on our dick about "please god stop doing all of this" and abandoning A and trying to break us up way before that, and THAT'S what im asking about
Anyways tl;dr are we the asshole for getting shit done when it takes methods that all our monday morning quarterback friends dont like
_____
OP has offered the following explanation for why they think they might be the asshole:
it really was a dick move to dangle my teammate's limp body in a chokehold even though it was basically an accident and also not even directly relevant to the question
OP has offered the following explanation for why they think they might not be the asshole:
okay but we're right
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I am once again plagued with thoughts that aren't 100% coherent so imma just ramble for a bit, pls gather 'round for some stuff about Billy and body image issues cuz I'm in my feels rn.
Billy spends a lot of time staring at Nancy.
Enough that Tommy's noticed and he starts ribbing him about it. "That's one thing of Steve's you might want to stay away from," bitter and pointed. Enough that Jonathan Byers gives him the stink eye whenever he's within glaring distance. Enough that a handful of the more desperate chicks still high off the fumes of his New Kid smell have started dressing like fucking librarians in hopes of catching his eye.
He doesn't give a shit about any of it, if anything the rumour mill is helping him out for once. Less work involved in keeping up appearances if everyone just assumes he isn't sleeping around because he's too busy sniffing Wheeler's granny panties.
As long as no one guesses the real reason, it's fine. It's fucking peachy. It's one silver lining in this shitstorm of a situation.
He's so tired of his eyes inevitably being drawn to her barely-there tits and tiny waist. Every time he's bored at lunch, his gaze wanders. When he's in the library pretending to study, there she fucking is, even smaller when she's hunched over a pile of cue cards.
The longer he looks at her the more sure he is that Steve will never really want him.
Steve's slept with plenty of girls. A variety of girls. He probably couldn't afford to be too picky in this shitty little town. But he's only fallen in love once. One time. The only time it mattered what he was sticking his dick in was when it was in Nancy Wheeler.
And Billy...will never be her. Not even close.
He'll only ever be a warm mouth and a convenient hand, he'll never matter.
She's flat, and thin. Willowy, narrow-shouldered. Petite. Inches shorter than him and nearly half as broad. Thin fingers and delicate wrists. She fit comfortably under Steve's arm, she could nestle safely into his side.
And it was all so fucking easy for her. She never had to try.
She never had to piss off her dad so she'd be forced to skip meals. She never did laps around her neighbourhood until she was lightheaded and doubled over, dry-heaving in someone's hedge. She was never forced to sign up for baseball as a child, poked and prodded and guilted into it because a couple shirts were starting to get tight across the stomach, and being a momma's boy was bad enough, being a fat, lazy piece of shit too was unacceptable.
He used to think he'd done well, maintaining the physique he has. He's worked hard for it. Scraping together his savings for a weight set and keeping careful track of his calorie intake and never skipping a single fucking day of exercise, hangovers and broken bones be damned. And it's fucking useful, truth be told. More than keeping away the echo of old insults bouncing around in his head, it's made flirting that much easier.
But the more he looks at Nancy Wheeler, the more he hates the things he can't change. It gets into his head. Digs in deep, leaving scars on its way down.
He thinks Steve might've noticed.
He knows Steve has heard the stupid rumours about Wheeler, and probably chalked it up to Billy being an asshole, as usual. But it's harder to explain away his sudden tendency to go extremely still whenever Steve puts his hands anywhere on his torso. A palm pressed to his chest, slipped under his shirt, or fingertips digging into his back, or a casual fucking pat on the shoulder—whatever it is, he can't help freezing up, if only for a second, a sick feeling twisting his stomach, cold and shameful and clawing at his lungs.
And then, eventually, they argue.
It's over nothing. And everything. Billy can't explain what his fucking damage is, and Steve can't stop needling in the wrong places. They scream at each other until their throats are raw and Billy leaves when his knuckles start to itch.
He cries all the way home and doesn't eat for four days. Not on purpose. Not consciously. He's just. Fucking. Busy. He's busy. He's always gotta drive Max somewhere or dodge Neil's thinly veiled threats or lock himself in his room when bile starts to bubble up in the back of his throat and his head pounds and he doesn't think about why he's snapping at everyone constantly, he just pounds back a couple beers and goes to sleep. And then it's four days later, and he's flying off the handle at Neil, too sluggish and lightheaded to see the hit coming, and...
Steve comes to see him at the hospital. He hasn't told anyone anything but they've got him hooked up to a banana bag and the nurses keep making sad eyes at him when they come to check his stitches.
He hates it, sitting around doing nothing, being closely monitored every fucking second, it make his skin crawl, and he hates it even more when Steve's standing in the doorway looking at him.
Not for the first time, he's overwhelmed wondering what exactly Steve sees.
He's a fucking mess right now. Greasy hair tangled at the back, bruises peeking out from under the collar of his gross papery hospital gown, one eye swollen shut and a dark tangle of thread holding his eyebrow together. It feels stupid to get stressed about all the shit that usually bothers him when there's so many other things to worry about, but he still finds himself shifting in place, hunching his shoulders, hiding his hands in the crooks of his elbows.
It's sort of a disaster. Worse than last time they saw each other. Billy's not in the mood for Steve's apologies and Steve's at a loss for what else to say.
They don't see each other again for months. Steve graduates. Billy avoids anywhere he thinks Steve might be, and lies awake at night haunted by stolen touches.
He catches a glimpse of Steve through the red haze of storm clouds and cold lightning, tears blurring his vision, the Mind Flayer wearing him like a suit. Their cars collide, and everything whites out for a second.
He's in the hospital again when they finally talk. Billy rolls his eyes at "We've gotta stop meeting like this," and tries not to think about last time he was here. Steve seems more than willing to ignore it. Move forward. Guess demonic possession puts some things into a different perspective.
When Billy's released from the hospital he's seventeen pounds heavier than he was a few months ago. Every time the nurses did their check-ups and put him on the scale they'd pat his elbow, smiling encouragingly, telling him how good he was doing while he watched his stomach get softer, his biceps get less defined, watched himself disappear beneath a layer of fat.
The first thing he does when he gets home is throw up.
He doesn't make it happen. It just happens. And he blames it on the meds they have him on. It's a plausible enough reason, and it means he doesn't have to interrogate the tiny spark of satisfaction he got from losing his lunch.
His second day back home Neil asks him when he's going to start exercising again. His expression is pinched. Cold. His eyes are ice chips freezing Billy's skin wherever they touch, lingering on the softness under his chin, and where the hem of his sleeve pinches his skin.
He pushes his dinner away and grits out an answer from between clenched teeth.
He doesn't need the reminder that he's gotten weak while he was trapped in a hospital bed, but Neil gives it to him anyways. Tells him all about everything he should do to get things back to normal. Push past the pain. Work harder. He tunes it out after a while, and watches grease congeal on his meatloaf.
Eddie Munson is the first person to bring up the things Billy's never known how to talk about.
They started hanging out after Billy's most recent brush with death. Billy's not sure exactly how the got here, from buying the occasional painkiller and letting the guy wax poetic about his dumb band, to spending weekends getting high together at the trailer park. But as weird things in his life go, it's barely worth questioning.
This particular conversation starts with Chrissy Cunningham.
Specifically, Eddie's massive boner for her.
Billy's been noticing it for a while. He hasn't been letting it bother him.
He hasn't.
Maybe he likes the way Eddie smiles at him when they pass a joint back and forth, lazily stretched out and wearing three less layers than usual, and maybe he thinks about closing the distance between them when Eddie offers to shotgun, but it doesn't fucking matter. Just like it doesn't matter that Steve hasn't touched him since before the Mind Flayer and things are fucking weird now that they're on speaking terms again. None of it matters, he's just a fucking idiot.
Because Steve and his new best friend Robin are attached at the hip lately and everyone can see where that's going, and Eddie won't stop talking about tiny, pretty, perfect fucking Chrissy and her stupid ponytail.
And Billy...Billy gets winded walking up the porch steps at his house now. And he pulled a muscle in his back trying to lift half the weight he used to press. And last week he burned three pairs of jeans in the backyard because he kept grabbing them out of his laundry pile, not realizing they don't fit anymore until he was struggling to pull them up past his knees.
He's lost the one thing people used to actually like about him. Never the people he wanted, he was never enough for that, but it was something. Now he's just...
Now he's just listening to a guy he likes talk about some goddamn cheerleader like she personally hung the moon just for him.
And he's drunk. They're both drunk. Eddie in a soppy, embarrassing way, with a sparkle in his eye and a flush on his cheeks, an arm across the back of the couch, outstretched far enough that the tips of his fingers almost brush Billy's shoulder.
He wants to move closer. Thinks about shuffling into Eddie's space, curling into the warmth at his side. But it twists in his guts, sours, sickens—he couldn't, he can't. And he hates himself for wanting to.
"What do you see in her?" spills out of his mouth, bitter on his tongue and sharpened by anger he has no right to feel.
She's pretty. He expects it. She's pretty, she's perfect. She's a fucking angel even though her and Eddie only know each other because she buys drugs off of him. But she can do no wrong because she looks like a little china doll with sad eyes and everyone would be devastated if a single hair on her tiny delicate head was harmed.
Eddie only looks thrown off for a second. A moment. But he shrugs it off, leans his head back against the couch cushions and grins at the ceiling. "She likes my music."
Since fucking when.
"So, what, it's just an ego stroking thing then."
"Nah, man. I mean. Like. She's got this whole good-girl thing going on, but you should see her when I pull out my guitar, it's fuckin'...magic. When she lets herself just. Live." He wiggles his fingers in the air, arms spread, then drops them back down.
Billy's heart clenches, squeezes. It hurts and he doesn't know why. "Bullshit."
"Nah, nah. Seriously. The guy she's dating is a fucking asshole. And her mom..." he trails off, and rubs his eye. "She's just got all this pressure to be perfect, act a certain way, look a certain way, be a certain way, and I hate seeing what it does to her, man. I hate it. No one should have to deal with all that. So. I dunno. I like helping her cut loose. Sorta, find herself, I guess." He cracks a crooked smile, casting a glance in Billy's direction.
And his smile drops.
"Billy?" He sits up, cautious, eyebrows up and his eyes wide.
Billy turns away, shocked into motion, wiping at his face with his sleeve. "I'm fine. Fuck off."
He didn't notice he was crying until Eddie looked at him like he'd seen a ghost.
"Yeah, obviously."
"Fuck you."
Eddie doesn't get much more out of him that night. But he starts watching Billy like a hawk after that. Checking in on him at random. Calling if they haven't seen each other in a few days. It should be irritating as fuck, and he acts like it is, but he still basks in the attention.
Doesn't hurt that it seems to annoy Steve to no end.
Especially doesn't hurt when, in a fit of apparent jealousy, Steve shoves Billy into a wall and kisses him like his life depends on it.
The hurt comes when Steve starts to unbutton Billy's shirt and Billy reflexively shoves him away, when he wants to keep going but wants it to stop and can't tell Steve either of those things because he doesn't have the words.
So he gets angry. At Steve, for pushing it, crossing lines he can't even see. But mostly at himself, because it might be easier than standing there heartbroken but he knows it's the worst thing he could do.
And at Steve, again, when the he doesn't respond the way he should. Doesn't punish Billy for doing the wrong thing, reacting wrong, being wrong. He doesn't withdraw and save himself, he tries to understand, tries to talk it out, like this is something Billy can just say out loud and it'll all be fixed.
He doesn't explain. Not that day. But he lets Steve hold him while he cries, ugly gasping sobs into the front of Steve's shirt, curled up in his lap, collapsed on the floor and tangled together. Because despite everything he's told himself, he does fit comfortably in Steve's arms.
💜tag list ppl💜 @spreckle @growup-thatbeautiful @prettyboy-like-you @suddenlyinlove
#stranger things#billy hargrove#harringrove#mungrove#a raven's writing desk#tw disordered eating#tw body issues#body image issues
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sbg headcanons!
(i had to put a title because it keeps just showing up as “aiden” in my notifs)
some of my favourite school bus graveyard headcanons! (in celebration of 101 followers) some are mine, some belong to other people that i’ve taken as well
these got really, really long so ill split it into two parts: aiden, tyler, and taylor for this post and ashlyn, ben, and logan will be in the next
——
aiden
(bit of a tw for disassociation around the end)
- uses he/any pronouns, he mostly doesn’t give a fuck. also doesn’t care if you stick to he/him because he likes it. he also tries out mirror pronouns every once in a while and flipflops between any
- unlabelled energy. also doesn’t care abt that type of stuff, but he’s asexual and it takes him a while to grow feelings. he’s afraid of letting people close to him but it really doesn’t matter to him, not that much. he’s pretty apathetic about it
- generally smells like shittily applied cedarwood cologne. it’s one of those cheap drugstore brands and sometimes he forgets to apply it in the morning, and he doesn’t spray it very well. also smells like grass sometimes
- his favourite subject is psychology/maths/anything logic based (he likes those puzzles). growing up with his bitchass karen mom who probably twisted all the words he said, he doesn’t like cryptic or vague language or poetry (english class) because it reminds him of her. in math, there’s only one answer. in english, there’s hundreds. also the words swim on the paper and he finds it hard to focus
- he has his ears pierced. he begged his parents to take him to an ear piercing studio they just ended up taking him to claire’s but he was still so happy about it
- he BEGGED for a dog or a pet when he was very little but eventually stopped at some point. he asked for stuffed animals and never got any because “it would be too hard to keep track of when we’re moving and you would lose them and get sad” and he’s still very upset about it. used to hug like three pillows when he slept
- he was told they were settling down in georgia and now his current room has millions of stuffed animals i will not hear any arguments about this
- he’s a kicker in his sleep (when he gets any). he kicks plushies off his bed like all the time, he’s not apologetic though he’s just like “oh shit”
- worst and best guy to have a sleepover with. super clingy
- he knows very few actual life skills other than operating a microwave for frozen meals because he largely grew up alone without his parental figures in his life. ashlyn and tyler eventually teach him how to cook
- his growth is stunted bc of that period in his life and he’s short like ashlyn
- he is a HORRIBLE gossip addict. they’ll be sitting at the lunch table eating in silence and he drops “did you hear that samantha’s parents are divorced and madison dropped her bc samantha’s mom doesn’t drive them to the mall anymore” like HUH WHERE DID YOU HEAR THIS?
- he gets school lunch and very rarely (if ever) brings lunch from home. sometimes ben makes him lunches
- plays with his food (this is canon) but he makes storylines out of whatever he does its like his personal roman empire
- big fan of extreme foods (spicy, sour, etc) ((he grew up eating plain ramen)) and loves weird food combinations. everyone always makes weird faces at him when theyre at the mall and he orders weird shit
- he doesn’t know proper meal etiquette until someone has to tell him, his parents didn’t teach him anything (I HATE THEM)
- he’s a really bad cook like ben because he always ends up getting distracted, and somehow manages to skip over steps in the recipes.
- he probably likes cooking shows though and is like “yeah i could do that” (he can’t do that)
- the first time someone (tyler) made aiden a homecooked meal he started cry laughing (it was mostly crying) (nobody talks about it)
- the few times his mom has made him meals whenever she’s home they’re really bad. they don’t taste anything like home, but he didn’t know what home tasted like so he just cried. his mom thought it was because of how good it was (it wasn’t) and he just cried harder
- he dislikes bitter flavours, especially like, orange juice that you make from scratch but you don’t put any sugar in it (it’s because his mom once tried to make homemade orange juice/lemonade to feel more like a “real mom” and it was horrible
- he’ll still eat bitter food though he just wouldn’t like it that much
- likes crunchy food or food that pops in your mouth (poprocks) bc he thinks its cool
- probably needs glasses from how long he’s spent staring at screens (his backstory)
- the one thing his parents consistently did as a kid was take him to his doctors appointments so he has stellar teeth
- he’s fit and fairly athletic (jumping off walls and all) but he doesn’t play sports because he just. isn’t interested in any of it. he tries everything but nothing really sticks that much
- he eats his greens but probably wouldn’t care much for the healthy vegan lifestyle, not that much of a picky eater (this part is canon)
- his favourite holiday is halloween because 1. candy (which he didn’t get much as a kid unless he specifically asked for it or ben brought it over) and 2. he loves dressing up it’s so fun to him
- understimulation is the BANE of his existence he genuinely wants to tear out his own hair every time he gets like that. gets really irritated
- he disassociates a lot, generally experiences a lot of derealization. he doesn’t feel like he’s in his own body sometimes
- insomniac
- chases thrills so that he can “feel” something. doesn’t care if it hurts him or not, because at least then he’ll remember he’s a real person and that his life matters
- really bad at telling when people are lying/are irritated with him. he just keeps pushing until they explode
- good with secrets (his own) but isn’t good at deflecting if asked about someone else’s. he’s just like “ummm. would u look over there. a bird!”
- runs really fast, he wakes up early in the morning to take a walk around the neighborhood. he sometimes encounters tyler if he happens to go into his city (which is often, because he doesn’t like being in his house)
- his house is always really cold, which is why he tends to run really warm (his body is compensating). he knows how to turn the ac off, but it always ends up turning back on in the middle of the night
- he grew up learning The Gifted Child instrument; the piano. he dislikes classical music (he says it’s boring but it’s because of this). he also almost got forced to learn the violin but he once practiced so hard his fingers started bleeding which is how he got out of it
- likes verbal validation bc his parents never told him they were proud of him
taylor
- she/they cis demigirl, gets a bit upset at being misgendered though (people think she’s the transfem twin because tyler passes really well)
- bisexual fem pref
- decorates her locker for almost every occasion. halloween, christmas, easter, birthdays. also decorates other people’s lockers for their birthdays before school starts with sticky notes
- has tons of stuff in her locker (except food because tyler won’t let her) just in case anyone needs anything but she’s not very organized so she doesn’t know where anything is
- because of this she’s one of those people that barely makes it to the door before the bell rings but she’s trying to fix that habit
- enjoys crime documentaries/true crime, horror stuff. used to make tyler watch with her but his anxiety gets really bad and he started getting paranoid
- adores christmas bc it’s a family holiday she makes tyler and her mom homemade gifts every year
- loves dogs with every bone in her body she asks santa for one every year but alas. tyler always has to write “a letter from santa” back saying they ran out of dogs at the north pole
- uses emoticons like “:D :] :3” all the time when she types, downloaded a bunch of sticker packs too. especially cat ones
- had her future all planned out as a kid and told her dad she’d be a mechanical engineer and build trains and rockets to bring him places when he started getting really sick and couldn’t move anymore
- her hair is actually kind of dry (compared to aiden’s or ashlyn’s) because they couldn’t afford great shampoo or anything
- has an ehh skincare routine and doesn’t care much for her fashion sense, just wears whatever’s comfortable
- knows a lot of random facts as conversation starters, she’s surprisingly good at small talk ( + comforting people)
- gossips with aiden aallll the time bc she’s super sociable and knows lots of people who tell her secrets. she doesn’t tell any of the important ones but just little drama things
- her and aiden are bffs
- really likes kids because they’re funny, she has a big imagination like them so it’s easy for her to play with them
- she’s a swiftie and whenever someone asks her if she likes taylor swift as a joke bc of her name she says “i like all music!” (she loves tswift)
- really likes sweets over most types of food, she’s healing her inner child guys
- has always ALWAYS wanted to go to a circus/carnival/festival when she was younger, but they couldn’t afford tickets. she still has that dream but she obviously has bigger priorities now…
tyler
- transmale he/him
- doesn’t care that much about dating, he actually doesn’t think about it that much until he meets The Gang. he always too busy taking care of his family to bother with relationships
- dislikes heavy meals, eats in small portions. it’s a habit
- used to be a picky eater but isn’t anymore, when he was younger they struggled to put food on the table so
- he’s like tigris from ballad of songbirds and snakes; when he prepared food for the family he’d eat bits and pieces of it while cooking. eats raw meat sometimes but once got sick from it so never again because he doesn’t want people taking care of him
- he HATES being sick. HATES HATES HATES it, hates having to burden people
- stress cooks because he likes having things to do with his hands. he also runs laps/paces around when he’s stressed
- runs his hands through his hair so it’s always messy
- he doesn’t bother combing his hair unless it’s for a special occasion like the first day of school, he just doesn’t care that much
- gets up early like aiden to keep up his physical fitness, doesn’t stray far though because his mom wakes up around the same time he does
- is VERY punctual. will be furious if someone makes plans and then is late. always arrives somewhere like, fifteen minutes early. he’s trying to break taylor’s habit of being late
- occasionally scolds taylor about how messy her locker is
- is extremely (and kind of scarily) meticulous. clean backpack, clean locker, clean room. it’s a habit
- book smart and figures things out pretty easily. he has an internal computer inside his head i swear. latches onto concepts very quickly
- likes math because he’s good at memorizing concepts but biology is his worst enemy, he gets queasy very easily
- motion sickness
- doesn’t actually have a set plan for the future, other than “help his family.” will probably do something related to sports (sports scholarship) or will do something math/analytical related
- spams people when they don’t respond to him but quits eventually (semicanon)
- has some sort of separation anxiety i swear he does
- keeps every single promise he makes because he hates broken promises (his dad told him he’d be fine and out of the hospital soon), he also doesn’t make a lot of promises
- dislikes nicknames like “champ” and “buddy”
- he’s ambidextrous
- he always seems to be like, tense? can’t relax at all. it might be because of his anxiety (HE HAS ANXIETY)
- only ever relaxes if he’s at home
- rarely watches television, he says it’s a waste of time (he always gets distracted and gets up and goes to do something else) he can leave it in the background though
- i think he has chronic pain, i don’t know where but i just think he does. everything just aches sometimes and he’s so young fuck life
- he’s okay with kids like his sister, not as good as her but he’ll take care of them (habit x37362828) he’d probably say everything really monotone though “there’s santa claus, wow.”
- he and taylor both have a pretty strong southern accent from living in middle of nowhere georgia (i think someone made an art post on this a while back :D)
- is really bad at video games because he gets frustrated easily
- he grinds his teeth when he sleeps and has jaw pain what a loser
#sbg#aiden rambles#school bus graveyard#school bus graveyard (webtoon)#headcanons#sbg headcanons#aiden clark#taylor hernandez#tyler hernandez#i didnt think these would get so long… help…#let me know if they’re inaccurate or if youd like to disagree i would /gen love to hear :D
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this song reminded me of you
aka the hangster playlist masterpost (and maybe some of the fics inspired by them)
i have an unhealthy love of character playlists so i wanted to make one semi-organized post to keep track of the hangster ones !! if you want me to add yours, send me an ask or a dm!! if i've posted yours without tagging you, let me know and i'll correct it! (i might make an icemav one too if y'all want)
hangman's direct hits -> glen powell is the biggest hangster shipper around so this counts and you'll never be able to tell me otherwise thank you
songs bradley would play to jake at the hard deck -> "b serenading j all over again" // @crooked-jes
b&j -> also by my love @crooked-jes :)
"hangman you look...good" -> "i'm feeling very normal about these two fighter pilots"
IWTBY -> the accompanying playlist for everyone's favorite hangster nfl fake dating au "i want to brainwash you into loving me forever" // @hangmanbradshaw
uh oh! you fell from your perch! -> do you wanna cry? yes? okay cool listen to this playlist while reading "as he falls from his perch" - you're welcome // @urmomsonfire
ok bagman -> another accompanying playlist !! this time for "the whole time, under the lights" by our favorite @/urmomsonfire
do friends fall in love? -> a fic for what will EVENTUALLY be a hangster when harry met sally au - i just have to finish writing it first :) // @/coridotmp3
hangman. you look...good -> "i am good, rooster. i'm very good || rivals to friends to lovers, found family, and an asshole that cares about his friends more than he let's on" // @miraculousmultifan
hangster ✈ -> "just some bradley rooster bradshaw and jake hangman seresin vibes" (this one is over 15 hours long <3)
summer hangster (top gun maverick) -> "you look good" // @hangsterwheel
all about that slow ride -> "hangman thinking about rooster" also by @/hangsterwheel <3
hangster (lovers to exes back to lovers) -> "actually its: lovers to eves to rivals to friends to lovers" // @keenmarvellover
fucking sereshaw i guess -> "this is going to destroy me i can just tell"
yang on yin -> "bradley about jake" // @/hangsterwheel
yin on yang -> "jake about bradley" // @/hangsterwheel
"let me go. and i'll let you" -> "the exes to fwb to lovers one" // @/coridotmp3
==
i'll keep adding more as i find them, but i figured this was a good start !!
#hangster#sereshaw#jake 'hangman' seresin#bradley 'rooster' bradshaw#playlists#character playlists#cori.mp3#bradley x jake
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quicksand —gojo satoru + geto suguru
summary: Five months after exiling yourself from jujutsu society and fleeing Japan, Gojō and Getō finally track you down. And they’re not going to let you slip through their fingers for a second time.
word count: ~3,5k
warnings: n/a
The evening breeze is cool.
You’re sitting on the grassy area, just in front of the small strip of sand on the shore, legs outstretched in front of you, heels digging into the sand. There are cows grazing a stone’s throw away from you, fenced in and kept up by the city council. The newspaper said they’re here annually, every summer from April to late September. Waves lap at the shore.
The hair on the back of your neck rises on its ends. Familiar cursed energy wraps around you like a vice. You don’t look back to meet their eyes, instead you look at the cows. There are a few calves amongst the herd, fluffier than the fully grown cows.
Footsteps approach and a warm body stops right behind you. Warmth emits from him like he’s a furnace and his cursed energy is all too familiar, almost suffocating, and oh, the irony of forgetting how formidable a person the Gojō Satoru is.
“Get up,” he says. His voice is stern. Cold, even. What a contrast. He’s like a siren, luring you in with body heat to chill you to the bone with his words. You ignore him at first, and instead, take a long breath in, hold it for a few moments, then exhale. It does little to soothe the buzzing in your veins and stop the thoughts racing through your head. Too many to keep count of — all of them centered around them. There’s a headache blooming, too.
Slowly, you unfold your legs and stand, dusting the sand off your pants. You turn to him, keeping one foot rooted on the corner of the yellow picnic blanket to keep it from flying off with a gust of wind. You raise your eyes to Gojō, then over his shoulder to where Getō stands, just a few strides away. The bitter taste of shame crawls up your esophagus as your eyes meet for a moment and you quickly avert yours to stare at the Jujutsu High button on Gojō’s uniform. Uniform. Straight from a mission, then. But it’s hard to tell; they have an uncanny ability to evade the blows of the opponent, never looking disheveled — no, not uncanny, a testament to their prowess, of their ranks as Special Grades. The créme de la créme of the jujutsu world.
“Well?” Gojō’s head is cocked to the side ever so slightly, hands in his jacket pockets, eyes obscured by bandages. Still, the feeling of being watched overwhelms you. You level your gaze with his and attempt not to get spooked by the intensity of his gaze and yet you’re unsuccessful. He definitely notices the subtle flinch of your shoulders. So, you raise your eyes to the treeline behind both of them. He calls out your name and you ignore the instinct to look, to give him the satisfaction of yet another flinch.
“I was a danger to everyone around me. So, I ran.” Cool wind from the sea caresses the back of your neck. You grind your foot deeper into the sand as the edges of the picnic blanket curl up. “It doesn't concern you, by the way, so don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”
“It does concern us when you disappear for months!” Gojō argues, swinging his hand to the side.
“How’d you find me, anyway?”
“You took my credit card,” he says, “three, actually.”
You swear under your breath. That fucking donut shop in town, right. Great donuts, no way to pay in cash.
“So you had to run over here? I’m fine, I was fine, everything was fine. You should’ve just moved on with your lives.”
“I think we have a right to know what’s going on, no?” Getō speaks up. Your eyes meet again but this time it’s harder to look away. In fact, you can’t force yourself to avert your eyes. “We tried to do right by Amanai and we’ll extend the same courtesy to you.”
Unlike Gojō, Getō’s voice is soft. It curls around you invitingly, like it wants you to spill all the secrets you keep close to your heart.
“No,” you say. The word is so bitter in your mouth you almost want to drink down handfuls of salty ocean water to taste anything, anything other than that. You ignore the intensity of Gojō’s gaze, ignore the twinge in your body that’s pulling you back towards them but that ache somewhere deep in your bones, the one that wants you to step closer to chase the warmth of human intimacy you’ve deprived yourself of for the past five months — that crawls up your spine and you almost take a step closer. “Just… leave.”
Gojō grabs the collar of your jacket and yanks you up to face him. You hiss a ‘no’, one hand clawing at his bare wrist, toes barely scraping the ground to kick up a clump of grass and dirt. You expect not to reach him, only Infinity, yet you do, and sink your nails into his flesh. He doesn’t even flinch. This is Gojō Satoru, the very peak of everything, he doesn’t skirt around the subject and he doesn’t accept any efforts at skirting around the subject.
“What do I have to do to make you trust us—”
His right hand collides with your left, already reaching for his throat, and fire licks up the length of your forearm. The distinct sound of metal snapping under immense pressure bounces against your eardrums. The next moment, the glint of the evening sun off metal shards, and the next, a piercing pain in your left cheek. Your knees give in.
Three of your fingers are lying on the pasture grass, glowing blue liquid seeping out of each one.
He seems to realize when you do because his grip on you goes slack and your knees collide with the ground. Your vision is blurring with tears as you reach out to gather the pieces of metal that were your fingers only moments ago and stuff them into your jacket pocket because they were organic once. They can be slotted back, right? They’ll be fine, right?
You reach around yourself for the yellow picnic blanket, shake it free of the stray grains of sand, and sloppily wrap it around your left hand. The bright blue liquid begins to seep through the layers almost immediately.
When you stand, you pointedly ignore both Getō and Gojō, sidestep them both without even glancing at them, and begin the trek back to civilization down the forest trail that leads to the daycare at the edge of the woods. Their footsteps, so silent you almost miss them, follow. They don’t speak, either, as if that will make you forget about their presence and the suffocating force of their jujutsu. Your headache is now fully present and making itself known, wrapping around your brain like barbed wire.
The forest trail melts away abruptly into a stone-paved road. It runs along the perimeter of the daycare and diverges in two up ahead: on the left, the daycare itself and its adjacent indoor swimming pool, on the right, more woods and the parking lot.
You continue ignoring your shadows and climb into the passenger seat of your car. Something vaguely human-shaped is sitting in the driver’s seat, its body littered with eyes. It just stares at you as you pull the car door closed.
YOUR DIVINE MAJESTY…
“What now?” You pinch the bridge of your nose and squeeze your eyes shut to clear your vision.
APOLOGIES FOR MY INTRUSION, BUT WOULD IT NOT BE BEST TO HAVE THEM ON HAND? It tightens its grip on the steering wheel for a moment as if it's forming a nervous habit. Maybe. You’re not sure if they can even feel human emotions.
You glance at the side mirror. They’re still standing there, a few feet from the car. They don’t have any intention to move, either, you think.
THEIR DIVINE MAJESTY NEED NOT WASTE TIME OR ENERGY ON COOKING AND CLEANING. THEY CAN FOCUS ON REVERSING THE BARRIER.
“What barrie—”
You bury your face into your free hand with a loud swear. The headache pulses behind your eyes and your vision blurs with tears. Fuck. You push the car door open and slide out—
“You!” A few long strides are all it takes to reach Gojō and you rear your fist back for a swing at his blurry face. Something catches it and you yank yourself out of Getō’s hold, yank yourself away from both of them, and take two steps back. Gravel crunches under your feet. “I told you to leave, but no, you’re Gojō Satoru and you know better than everyone, right?”
“How is any of this my fault?”
“I asked you to leave! If you’d just left, we could’ve all left and gone our separate ways but no, of course not!” You turn on your heel and stomp back to the car, pulling the back door open. “Shut up and get in the car.”
You don’t wait for their answer and climb into the front seat.
They’re willing to hear you out, you’ll give them that. The curse in the driver’s seat growls from its throat when Gojō and Getō sit and buckle in.
“I need a driver, not a dog,” you remind it. It spits a swear under its breath and puts the car into drive. It jostles as it drives over the speedbump at the entrance of the parking lot and you lay your left hand onto your knee.
Blue bleeds through the picnic blanket and stains your pants and fuck, does this mystery liquid even come out of clothes? Can you even throw it into the washing machine or will it carry the disease onto the washing machine? You groan, imagining a washing machine with a sonic cannon mounted on it. What if this thing is corrosive instead, and by the time you arrive home to wash it out, it’s eaten through both fabric and skin, maybe even muscle, or bone? Will it spread there, too? It shouldn’t, it should be non-viral by now, but maybe its virality only applies if it’s hopping host organisms and won’t spread in its’ first host even if it is viral. And fuck if you have to quarantine yourself in Limbo again—
“Hey.”
A hand lands on the junction between your shoulder and neck, digging into it with just enough force to feel relaxing. Getō presses down on the muscle knot and you place your free hand in front of your mouth to stifle the groan that wants to escape. You lean your head to the left, temple resting against the seat headrest to give Getō’s hand more room to work. Human contact is one hell of a drug.
“You’re panicking.”
You make a noncommittal sound in the back of your throat.
“Breathe.”
“We’re trapped here.” The hand that’s moved on to pull the knot out of your shoulder abruptly stops its administrations. “I read the Book of the Damned, I set a boundary spell. It triggered when you grabbed me.” You turn your head slightly to find Gojō in the corner of your eye. “And I have no idea how to undo it.”
“How’d you put it up?” Gojō asks. His voice is even, but it’s missing the edge it had earlier. More than anything, he sounds tired. You shake your head slowly.
“I don’t remember.”
“That’s dumb.”
“Satoru,” Getō says.
“What does the barrier do?” Gojō ignores Getō’s warning and leans forward in his seat. He’s fully in your field of vision now, all-encompassing. There’s something about him that draws the eye.
“Loser dies, winner gets out.” You shrug your shoulders. “I panicked and the Book gave me a spell; ‘s how it works.”
“Stop reading that cursed thing,” Gojō says, falling back into his seat, arms crossed over his chest. You blink once, twice, then turn straight in your seat, too, and pull away from Getō’s warm hand.
The rest of the drive is silent. Street lights are flickering on the farther you drive. Stores are long closed by now, neon, and lit brand signs hanging on the front of the passing buildings. Dusk paints the sky in a soft lavender. June is nice here.
Eventually, the curse behind the wheel parks the car in the half-finished garage adjacent to a small blue house. Silence lingers in the car as it’s shut off, and the key is deposited in your open palm. The drenched rag that was once a yellow picnic blanket squelches in your lap as you adjust your hand and fire licks up your left arm. You stifle the sound of pain that wants to escape, and turn to the curse. It stares at you with the array of eyes littered throughout its entire body.
“Get lost.”
The figure blinks at you with its many eyes and then slowly, like a sandcastle destroyed by the waves, it melts away.
You climb out of the car, digging into your jacket pocket for the house key and spare a moment to curse under your breath. If the barrier really is impenetrable, you’re all stuck here. They will probably refuse a hotel or whatever to keep an eye on you. That means two more copies of the key, more food, more cooking and cleaning, and more reasons for your shitty neighbors to spy on you. All that on top of trying to piece your fingers back onto your hand — a very, very not human hand — maybe you’ll get lucky and your body will reject the repairs and kill you of lead poisoning or something. You stare at the now-dripping ball of fabric. Is there even lead in this?
Pain twinges again when you forget and try to grab the handle with that hand. You pull away with a hiss but the door cracks open nonetheless and you finish the job with the nudge of your foot. They’re so close you can feel the heat of their breaths on the back of your neck and you hurry inside, teeth gritting together to keep yourself from making a stupid comment that will earn you their hovering for the rest of eternity. The door creaks when Gojō pulls it shut behind him and you wince at the sound. You toe your sneakers off and wander into the house. The flowers strung along every interior wall of the house bloom when you approach. They cast just the right amount of illumination without melting your brain into soup.
Gojō and Getō are still lingering in the open hallway, taking in the interior of the house. It’s more spacious than it looks on the outside. There are two doors to their right, one up ahead, right next to the brick oven, and an open kitchen and a living room to their left. The glass coffee table you seat yourself behind is well within their line of sight.
The fingers clink when they hit the glass table. You slowly unwrap the blue-soaked picnic blanket and place it on the farthest end of the coffee table. It leaves a dribble of blue liquid on the glass.
There is movement in the corner of your eye. You ignore it to stare dumbly at the fingers. You place your metal hand on the glass and attempt to align the fingers to their respective stumps. The movement sloshes the blue dribble around and smears it along the glass surface. Can glass be corroded? It would be a pain in the ass to have another glass table delivered.
Getō gathers your hair and ties it back. You fight to keep a sigh from leaving your lips and instead, swallow around the lump in your throat. His touch is soft and doesn’t tug on any strands and you tilt your face down the moment he’s done, ignoring the lurch in your heart when his warm hands leave your skin. A few strands of hair fall in front of your eyes and you huff. The hair dangles back and forth as if it’s mocking you and you narrow your eyes at it.
“You got a headband somewhere?”
“Shelf next to the bathroom sink.” You jerk your chin forward. “Straight across from the front door.”
You watch him until he disappears behind the brick oven and turn back to the table. Your heart shoots into your throat when Gojō’s face appears in front of yours and you realize he’s crouched down on the other side of the table. He moves quietly, you remind yourself. Be aware of your surroundings, you remind yourself.
Gojō picks up one of the fingers lined up on the glass and slowly turns it between his own. He doesn’t say anything for a long time, his attention solely on the metal digit in his hand.
There are hands on your head and you jump again. Getō makes a soothing hush as he fits the headband over your head and then pulls it up over your bangs. He brushes a few stray baby hairs back with his fingers but they spring up again almost immediately.
“Thanks,” you say stiffly and reach to pluck your finger from Gojō.
“What happened?” He asks and you glance up at him just as he’s pulling the bandages over his head. His hair falls down over his eyes. Beautiful eyes — terrifying eyes. You think you might get lost in the depth behind them if you don’t look away immediately. So, you do, and clear your throat.
“Some piece of shit curse user infected me with some sort of transmutation virus; anything organic becomes animate technology.” You wipe away more of the pooling blue liquid, and line the fingers up again. It seems off somehow. You swap the middle and ring fingers. Still off; it’s hard to tell which finger belongs where and you grit your teeth together and swallow the taste of tears in your mouth.
Gojō leans in and carefully swaps the pointer and ring finger. You want to argue, tell him that you know your own body better than he does but this thing buried into your flesh is new and confusing. Inhuman. Maybe his Six Eyes allows him more knowledge than you will ever have.
In the corner of your eye, Getō moves to the space between you and Gojō, and sits down on the rug, too.
This might be the most people this house has seen since you moved in. Something about it feels right, something about it tears a gaping hole into your heart.
The headache pulses behind your eyes again and you squeeze them shut. When you open them, the world is swimming again. You force down the discomfort of Gojō and Getō’s silhouettes fraying at the edges and return your attention to your hand. Where there once was muscle, hidden by layers and layers of blood vessels and skin, there is a layer of softly illuminated cables hidden under a layer of thin metal with grooves and dents that adjusts itself as you move your arm. You take a breath in and wait for your vision to focus again before you pick up a finger and press it against its corresponding stump.
The cables underneath the metal plating mold together with a low hiss. blue liquid dribbles onto the glass tabletop. You repeat the action once, then once more.
Slowly, you crook one finger, then the other, and the third one. It’s not quite the same as your still-human hand, but it’s a feeling of sorts. It even emits warmth. The luminescent cables bend under the movement.
Gojō lets his impulsive thoughts win and reaches out to press a finger against the soft tissue with his finger.
“Do you go around shoving your dick into people’s gunshot wounds, too?” You slap his hand softly and he pulls back.
“How far does it reach?” Getō asks. You purse your lips and shrug your jacket off, and fold it onto your lap. The metal runs all the way up to about mid-bicep, where it burrows under the scarred skin.
Getō’s hand jerks on his thigh, as if he wants to reach out to you. Instead, he balls his hand into a fist around the fabric of his pants until his knuckles turn white. You don’t want to look up to face him, so you pointedly ignore his eyes as you shimmy closer and raise your arm towards him. There’s a moment of hesitation from his end before his fingers uncurl and ghost over your skin. His touch is gentle, like he’s terrified you’ll shatter if he exerts the smallest amount of pressure.
“Did it hurt?” He asks, the pad of his thumb smoothing over the scar tissue.
“Worse than the sorcerer killer.”
His fingers trace the metal plates of your arm, over the exposed cables in the crook of your elbow, all the way down to your hand and the newly re-attached fingers.
“Satoru, have you seen anything like this before?”
Gojō leans in and takes your left hand in his. He turns it one way and then the other, silent all the while. You glance at Getō who shrugs his shoulder minutely.
“Never,” Gojō says finally. He turns your palm to face him and laces his fingers between yours. He gives your hand a squeeze. “But we’ll figure it out. I promise.”
part two.
#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x reader#geto suguru x reader#geto suguru x you#gojo satoru x you#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk imagines
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Let Me Go || Part 10
Pairing: Hangman x f!reader, Rooster x f!reader
Warnings: ANGST (but you knew that), minor character death, Some Fluff
Word Count: 3.8k
Summary: Reader is married to and shares a child with Hangman. Life and circumstances drives reader into Rooster’s arms, but Hangman isn’t giving up that easily.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10
Author's Note: The long awaited Part 10. So this is the final part of the story, but there is still an epilogue coming (actually already started writing it as we speak or rather type). Sorry for the long wait once again, school and law school apps really got the best of me. But I did end up getting into law school with a great scholarship so yay! This chapter was so hard to write, I really kept going back and forth on how I was gonna end it and I know I'm not gonna make everyone happy with how I ended it but I think I went the best possible and realistic way that's healthy for all the characters involved. And I am really happy with what I came up with. I also had such a bad case of writer's block but thanks to some brainstorming with one of my best friends (who I forced to listen to the plot of the story). He helped me come up with an ending I was happy with. So thank you again for your patience and I also I wanna apologize to everyone who asked to be in the tag list that I didn't add, its impossible to keep track of who asked. But without further ado, here is Part 10 of Let Me Go!
You needed a moment to gather your thoughts before responding to Jake's plea. You took a deep breath and wiped the tears from your eyes.
"Jake, of course I still love you," you said, your voice quivering slightly. "But that's not the point. Love alone is not enough to fix what's broken between us."
"I know," Jake replied, his eyes downcast.
"You also have to understand that what I had with Bradley was not the same as what we have," you continued.
"Yes I fell in love with him. How was I not supposed to? He loved me when it felt like you could not, he loved me selflessly and loved our daughter like his own. I can’t just ignore that.”
"You fell in love with Rooster…." Jake repeated, voice low and full of despair.
“I thought it was you and me forever Sweets. I can’t believe you’d go back on our vows and leave me for Rooster!”
“And its not just you and me (y/n), we have a daughter! Imagine how confusing all of this is for her!” Jake was fuming once again, clearly jumping from the bargaining stage of grief back to anger.
“You didn’t think about our daughter when you fucked that corpsman!”
“That’s different (y/n)! She was a stranger, you fell in love with MY friend. Someone I thought was JUST your friend.”
“This is different," you said, feeling a mix of anger and frustration rise in your chest. "Rooster is not just a friend, he's someone I have a deep connection with. And I know it's hard for you to understand, but I can't just turn off my feelings for him."
Jake looked up at you, his expression a mixture of hurt and anger. "So what are you saying, that you want to be with him instead of me?"
"No, that's not what I'm saying," you replied firmly.
Jake's eyes widened as he processed your words. "So what is it? You're just going to leave me here, alone and broken?"
The anger began to rise in you as you spoke. "No, Jake, I'm not leaving you alone and broken. You did that to yourself when you cheated on me. You broke our trust and shattered the foundation of our relationship. And now you have to deal with the consequences."
Jake's face fell as your words hit him like a ton of bricks. "I know what I did was wrong," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I'm willing to do anything to make it up to you. I love you, (y/n), and I don't want to lose you."
Your anger began to boil over as you listened to Jake's pleas. "Love is not enough, Jake," you spat out. "It takes more than love to build a strong and healthy relationship. It takes trust, honesty, and respect. And you betrayed all of that when you cheated on me."
Jake hung his head in shame as you continued to speak. "I need time to heal and figure out if I can ever trust you again. And right now, that means being on my own. I can't just forgive you and forget what you did. It's not that simple."
“And I know you said that you’re willing to forgive my relationship with Bradley, but we both know that the hurt lives in you, you cannot just instantly forget what Bradley and I shared.”
Jake looked up at you, his eyes pleading. "Please, (y/n), don't do this. I know I messed up, I know we both did, but I'm willing to do anything to make it right. Please do this with me"
"We had your chance, Jake," you replied, your voice stern. "And we blew it. I shut you out rather than figure it out with you. I fell in love with someone else.We both need time to think and figure out what's best for ourselves and our daughter. And right now, for me, that means being away from you."
Jake's eyes filled with tears as he realized the gravity of the situation. "Please don't do this," he pleaded, his voice breaking. "I need you, (y/n)."
But you stood firm in your decision. "I'm sorry, Jake. But we can't keep putting ourselves and our daughter through this pain. We need time apart to figure things out."
Jake looked at you, sadness etched on his face. "But what if we can't make things work? What if we can't get back together?"
You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his words. "Then we have to accept that and do what's best for our daughter. We both love her, and we'll always be there for her."
“I love you (y/n), I always will, no matter what.”
“I know Jake.”
_________________________________________________________________________
"We need to talk"
“Can I come over?”
His heart rate picked up as he replied, "Of course”
“I'll be there in 10 minutes."
Bradley quickly got up from bed, threw on a hoodie and pants, and sat on his couch as he waited for your arrival. The minutes felt like years as he tried to control the thoughts racing through his head. Was something wrong? Was everything okay with Jake and Astrid? He had to find out.
When he heard a knock on the door, he noticed that he forgot to turn the lights on, probably a result of his distracted thoughts. He opened the front door and waved for you to enter.
"Hey," you said, walking into the living room. "Thanks for letting me come over again, for the second time tonight. I know its late"
"Of course, what's going on?" Bradley asked, concern etched on his face.
You took a deep breath before speaking. "Jake and I are separating."
Bradley's heart dropped as he heard the news. He knew how much you loved Jake and how much you wanted to make things work with him, despite everything that had happened. But he also couldn’t forget your year together.
He knew he shouldn't feel happy that your marriage was falling apart, but a small part of him couldn't help feeling hopeful for what it might mean for him and you. But he quickly pushed those thoughts aside, knowing that this was not the time or place for them.
"I'm so sorry, (y/n). Are you okay?"
You shook your head, tears streaming down your face. "No, I'm not okay. But I need to be strong for Astrid.”
Bradley wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. "You don't have to do this alone. I'm here for you, (y/n). Whatever you need."
You shrugged off his embrace, which you have never done before. This action took Bradley by surprise, and he couldn’t lie hurt a little bit. But he knew that there was a large weight you holding on your shoulders, one that you were mustering up the courage to tell him.
“I need to leave, I’m moving back to San Diego. I’m going to take Astrid with me.”
“You’re leaving?” Bradley couldn’t believe it
“But..how about us?”
Bradley knew it was selfish asking about his standing with you after you told him that you and your husband were separated. But the thought of losing you and Astrid left his body feeling like its been hit by a truck.
“Roo.. I love you.”
Surprise painted Bradley’s face upon hearing your words, you finally told him those 3 little words that he’s been desperately waiting for.
“But I can’t be with you. Jake cheated on me with another woman. But I am not innocent in this situation. I fell in love with you knowing that there was another man that I promised my life to. He hurt me, but I’ve hurt him just as much. And its not okay.”
“I am so in love with you but I need to get away from here. I don't know what I want right now, and I need to figure things out on my own.”
As the words left your mouth, Bradley felt like the ground beneath him had given way. He had hoped that this would be the moment when you would finally see him as more than just a friend, and he got his wish. But now, it felt like the walls were closing in on him.
He tried to keep his voice steady as he responded, "I understand, (y/n). Take all the time you need." His eyes were burning, and he struggled to keep his composure. He couldn't bear the thought of losing you now, after all this time.
You looked at him with a sad smile, and his heart broke a little more. "Thank you, Bradley. You're a good friend."
Friend. The word echoed in his mind like a taunt. He had been fooling himself all along, thinking that he had a chance with you. He couldn't help but wonder if he had missed his shot.
Before you could leave, you turned to him and said,
"I hope that there will be a time for us but not right now."
“I promise,maybe one day when my head is less fucked up, and I can give my entire self to you and I can give you all the love you deserve. When I’m ready, I will come back for you. If you’ll have me..”
Those words left him feeling even more uncertain. He didn't know when you would be ready, or what you would say when you finally did reach out. All he knew was that his heart was breaking, and he didn't know how to fix it.
As he watched you walk out of his apartment, he couldn't help but feel like everything was slipping through his fingers. He didn't know if he would ever get another chance with you, and that thought left him feeling empty and alone.
Bradley closed the door and leaned against it, taking a deep breath. He knew that he needed to give you the space you were asking for, but it felt like the hardest thing he had ever done. All he could do now was wait, and hope that one day you would come back to him.
____________________________________________________________________________
After you returned home, you saw that Jake had some of his belongings packed in a bag. You made eye contact with him as he walked down the stairs, hating yourself for hurting not just him but Bradley as well. But you knew this is what you all needed.
“Thank you for staying with her, while I went to talk to Bradley.”
Jake felt his throat get dry at the sound of his rival’s name, biting down the bitter remark that would leave his mouth, knowing that it would do nothing to help the situation. Choosing to plop himself down on the couch.
“I went to tell Pixie goodbye but she’s still asleep. Can you tell her for me?”
You gave him a small nod in response.
“I’m going to stay at a place on base, give you your space.”
“Thanks Jake, I promise we’ll only be here for a few more days. Until I make arrangements for me and Astrid to get back to San Diego…. Penny said we could stay with her until we find our own place.”
“Are you sure leaving is the best thing to do right now?”
“I think its the only thing that makes sense for me to do right now.” You replied, sternly.
Silence hung in the air as Jake stared at you, processing your words. You could see the hurt and confusion etched on his face, and you wished that things could be different. You wished that you could turn back time and make different choices, but you knew that was impossible.
After a few moments, Jake nodded slowly. "I understand," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't like it, but I understand."
You let out a shaky breath, feeling the weight of the world on your shoulders. "Thank you," you said, your own voice barely above a whisper. "I just need some time to think things through."
Jake stood up from the couch, his eyes still fixed on you. "I'll give you all the time you need," he said. "But just know that I love you, and I'll always be here for you and our daughter."
You managed a small smile, grateful for Jake's words. "I know," you said. "And I love you too. But right now, I need to be on my own."
With that, Jake nodded and headed towards the door. Before he left, he turned back to look at you one last time. "Take care of yourself," he said softly.
You didn’t understand why but that exact moment you remembered the day of your wedding.
The wedding took place on a the beach next to the Hard Deck, where you first met, with soft white sand and the sound of the waves crashing in the background. The sun was setting, casting a warm orange glow over the entire scene.
You wore a simple backless satin white gown with a slit and court train that flowed behind you as you walked down the aisle. Jake had never seen anymore radiant or breathtakingly beautiful.
Penny held your arm tight, as you both made your way down the white aisle in the sand. She was the closest thing you had to family since your mom died and it meant so much to you that she not only planned the whole event but also wanted to be the one to walk you down the aisle.
As you reached the altar, you looked up and locked eyes with Jake, a dashing naval aviator in his dress uniform. He wore his medals and insignia with pride, and the way he looked at you made yout heart skip a beat.
You and Jake agreed to not write vows, you knew how you felt about each other and you didn’t feel the need to have to express it with words. Which is why it surprised you when he pulled a piece of folded paper from his pocket and started reading.
“My sweets,
I stand before you today, in my dress whites, feeling like the luckiest man in the world. As a naval aviator, I have flown through the skies and seen countless wonders, but nothing compares to the beauty of you. You are my everything, my anchor, my inspiration, my love.
From the moment I met you, I knew there was something special about you. Your spunky attitude, your unwavering ambition, and your stunning beauty captivated me from the start. I have never met anyone like you before, and I never want to let you go.
As we stand here today, I want to promise to always support you in your dreams, just as you have supported me in mine. I promise to stand by your side through thick and thin, in good times and in bad. I promise to cherish every moment we spend together, and to never take our love for granted.
I promise to be your rock, your confidant, and your partner for life. I vow to always make you feel loved, respected, and cherished. I will be there for you in every moment, whether it's sharing the highs of your accomplishments or the lows of your struggles.
Together, we will create a life full of adventure, joy, and love. I am so grateful to have you as my partner, and I can't wait to see what the future holds for us. I love you more than words can express, and I promise to spend the rest of my life showing you just how much you mean to me.
Yours forever,
Zuko
You felt tears swell in your eyes at his admission, you had never felt this much love from anyone, and here is this man promising you love and devotion forever. None of it felt real.
“Jake… I-i I didn’t have anything prepared…” You whispered cheeks red in embarrassment.
“You don’t need to Sweets, I wanted you and everyone here to know I felt about you.”
“You show me how you love me every single day and that’s all I could ever want.”
You nodded, tears pooling in your eyes.
You exchanged rings, Jake took your hand and lifted it to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on your skin. Before he gently took your face in his hands placing a soft delicate kiss on your lips.
You smiled and blushed, feeling overwhelmed with love for your husband.
After the ceremony, both of you as husband and wife took a walk along the beach, hand in hand. Jake swept you bride off your feet and carried her across a shallow part of the water, causing you to laugh and giggle like a child.
At the reception, You held each other tightly as you swayed to soft acoustic playing out of the speakers. You were surrounded by their family and friends, who toasted to your happiness and future together.
As the night drew to a close, Jake took your hand and led you away to a secluded spot on the beach. You sat down on a blanket and watched the stars twinkle in the sky, cuddling close to each other.
Jake whispered sweet nothings into you ear, telling you how much he loved you and how grateful he was to have you as his partner for life. You shared a tender kiss as the waves lapped at your feet, promising to love each other forever.
That memory flashbacked in your mind, cracking your already broken heart even more that it already was. But you were set in your decision, you two were different people then. With different dreams, love untainted by time and circumstances. You don’t know if you could ever go back to the way you were.
You nodded, watching as he closed the door behind him. Alone in the quiet house, you let out a deep sigh and let the tears fall freely once again. You didn't know what the future held, but you knew that you needed to take things one day at a time. For now, all you could do was focus on yourself and your daughter, and try to heal from the pain and heartbreak that had consumed your life.
You are going to be okay. You and Astrid are going to be okay.
______________________________________________________________
“Mom! Hurry up! I’m supposed to be at practice in 10 minutes!”
Your 8 year daughter was such a stickler for punctuality, you honestly sometimes questioned if she really was your daughter. You had the tendency to be fashionably late (if fashionably was 30 minutes), taking your time to make your way to events.
“The field is 5 minutes away Atty, you’ll be fine.”
“That’s what you said last week, but I ended up being 10 minutes late to warm-ups!”
She pouted as you walked out into the foyer pulling your shoes onto your feet.
“Coach wouldn’t let me play the first half!” She continued.
“Well don’t worry Sweetie, you make such a pretty benchwarmer.” You joked pinching her cheeks.
You were greeted by your daughters scowl, she looked absolutely terrifying for a little (*ahem* big) girl dressed in a bright yellow soccer uniform, pastel pink cleats, and pigtails.
Her punctuality and her terrifying glare, two things she’s inherited from her father.
You dropped her off at a mostly empty soccer field, with only the two coaches and 2 other players occupying the area.
“Where is everyone?”
“Coach moved practice to 30 minutes later.” Your devious daughter smiled coyly.
“Astrid Eleanor Seresin…did you just lie to your mother?” You raised an eyebrow at her.
She quickly opened the car door and rushed out.
“Omission is not a lie!” She yelled as she ran away.
“Casey’s mom is dropping me off at home!”
“Okay! I’m gonna see Auntie Penny!”
“Tell her her I said Hi!”
You chuckled as you watched her retreating figure get further into the field. What kind of 8 year old knew the word “omission”? She no doubtly learned that from her father. Classic Jake.
You put your car back in drive and made your way to the Hard Deck.
“Hey Sweet Pea! Where’s my sweet little goddaughter?” Penny asked from behind the counter as you walked into the bar.
It was still early afternoon so the bar was occupied by the bar staff getting ready for a night of servicing navy men.
“Soccer practice.” You replied.
“You said putting her in sports will tire her out but its somehow made her more energetic.” You groaned taking a seat at the bar.
“She is her father’s daughter.” You heard a voice quip originating from the supply closet.
“Hey Mav.” You smiled at the captain,
“Hey (y/n), you and Atty still coming for the barbeque on Thursday?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Atty says no one can grill em like you.” you responded.
“That’s why shes my favorite.” Mav smiled with a toothy grin as he returned to the storage closet.
“Sweet Pea, do you mind manning the bar for a second? I’m sure no one will come in, but just in case. Last time I left Pete unsupervised he dropped a whole pallet of beer.” Penny sighed.
“It’s been a little while, but sure Penny.”
“Anything for you.”
“Thanks Sweet Pea”
It was strange to be behind the bar, you and Astrid had been back at Fightertown for the past four years.
It was really hard to explain to her the situation, but she was a smart child. She knew there was more going on between you, Bradley, and Jake than you let her in on. She knew that space from her Uncle Roo Roo and her Daddy was absolutely necessary for her mother’s well-being, and she was more than willing to be amenable to change if it meant you were happier.
You eventually found a little one story house near Penny (and now Mav’s house), it was small but it was cozy and it was more than enough space for the two of you. You found a job in a nearby law firm, where you rose up the ranks and got your own corner office.
You finally got the time to relax and breathe, to really focus on yourself, your dreams, and your daughter. And finally after 4 years, you finally felt at peace.
The pain and the trauma will always live within but you have gotten to a place where you are content with your life and your past because it led you full circle. In Miramar, right where you belonged.
As you stared down on the bar and wiped down the glasses reminiscing on your life, you didn’t notice the figure that walked into the empty bar.
He plopped himself down in a stool in front of you and cleared his throat.
You looked up and made eye contact with the figure and smiled.
“Hey”
“Hi”
It honestly felt like coming home
Tag list below, I apologize if your tag did not work :(
@luckyladycreator2
@lunamoonbby
@n3ssm0nique
@and-claudia
@marrianena
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@writeroutoftime
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@eroda-harry
@maxi-milf-dot-com
@jake-h-ngm-n-seresin
@8oopsiedaisy8
@dempy
@playswithsquirrellls
@bayisdying
@mysticaldonkey
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@shaded-recs
@romxnticist
#hangman x y/n#hangman x reader#jake seresin#jake seresin x reader#hangman#jake hangman seresin#rooster#rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw x reader#rooster x reader#hangman ansget#rooster angst#hangman x reader x rooster#rooster x reader x hangman#hangman imagine#rooster imagine#top gun#top gun maverick#dagger squad
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Hello everyone :>
It's been a month! it's incredible how much my life has changed- while I'm still adjusting I'm just...still walking on clouds. it feels unreal. the patreon took off and I can almost make a living wage on it which is frankly fucking insane, and the discord is so vibrant it scared me for a moment (not anymore- shooting the shit with the people there is the favorite part of my day, even if I sometimes just leave a trail of emotes lskjdhajksdhkjasd.) I couldn't have asked for a better community. YES I am crying about it. Thank you, so, so much. I am cradling your face in my hands. crying.
But as always, enough of my bleeding heart. Let's get to it!
The first two weeks after posting the update, I took a sort of quasi vacation and only wrote a handful of story-words each day, and spent some time fooling around in the discord + brushed off my smut archive to refine for Patreon. There are already 4 stories up, and a new one coming tomorrow- though I haven't decided yet whether it will be possessive/jealous L sfw short or one very nasty short where you come across a particularly insistent species of vines while trekking the forest. hehe. we'll see. >:3
But, even though I had to rest not to combust after work, I am very pleased to say that the next chapter is coming along great, with the skeleton finished for its entirety, and about 45% and some change already written (it's very hard to gauge because I jump around a lot when I write.) This is the final chapter before the forest, filled with action and the heart wrenching drama of offering tenderness to a certain someone, and deciding for your hunter when enough is truly enough. I have teared up writing certain scenes and I genuinely cannot wait for you to experience this next part yourselves.
It is so funny reading things I wrote for this chapter six months ago, or longer, because I knew exactly what emotions I wanted to bake in and couldn't really nail it, but now it is coming together beautifully! Sure, it will still be wonky first draft writing, but the core is there and that is all that matters for now. I'm saying soon™ for the update for now, because I am allowing myself to adapt to writing full time- I didn't quit my job to become my own nightmare boss, and I truly want to enjoy this process. I think, in the long run, it will result in a better story. Patience is my mantra. All in due time- I cannot force quality creative work. But by everything wretched and sinful, I cannot wait to share this next part with you!!! I'm frothing at the mouth!!!
In other news, y'all. I need to get organized. I get heartburn thinking about all the different variations of files and notes and notebooks and scraps of paper and variables and branches of plot and just generally, the things to keep track of is getting to the point of a dragon hoard of scary 'oh no I forgot about that part'. I'm gritting my teeth through it until this chapter is out, but after it, I am going to spend some time to
1) get my shit together in gorgeous, beautiful spreadsheets
2) get serious about finding beta- and proofreaders. (me @ u: 🥺)
But that's it, my friends! I scrapped an entire progress report because I started sounded corporate and listing points which was just... sad. I really hope I evolve into writing these in a more fun way, which would make them more fun for you to read too! But for now, I think this will do. I hope you have a beautiful day/night, and if you would like to see more in depth dev-logs of my writing life, or random sneak peeks, I post those weekly on patreon!
Or join our discord, which. It's just the nicest place, I can't even come up with words that do it justice. It's my favorite daily newspaper.
Until next time! x
#OUROBOROS#ouroboros-if#interactive fiction#dev log#progress report#im scuttling off to finish character moodboards now like a gremlin#i am wholly soaked and immersed in the world of ouro and that just feels... so nice. I never want to leave#on asks: sorry they have taken low priority while I adapt to everything happening. I read every single one and smile and laugh and ponder#but when it comes to actually answering my words just stop working. its a soup up there#send thots and prayers 😔#(or come join the discord where I answer questions with gusto on the daily)
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The archer’s apprentice
Daryl Dixon [PLATONIC] • They/Them Pronouns • “Ain’t gonna hurt yea kid” “…how can I trust you?” “Take the risk” • SFW/ANGST • TW: Abandonment Issues / Separation Anxiety / Injuries / Scars
Requested by: Anon
Stupid fucking rain Daryl thought as he quickly ran into the cabin after pushing what was blocking the door on the other side far enough to slip in.
But right as he did, a bolt whipped past his head hitting the wall next to him. Daryl turned where the shot was fired and saw the kid still aiming their crossbow at him before dropping it and cowering.
“Ain’t gonna hurt yea kid”
“…how can I trust you?”
“Take the risk” Daryl shrugs watching the kid scramble, ditching their weapon and climbing on top of the bookshelf in an alarmingly fast pace that was impressive and concerning. The only concerning part about it is they must’ve done that before for whatever other reason. “‘M just gonna hold up for a bit…”
No response to his words concerned him but the kid was still keeping to themselves afraid of the stranger.
The archer could only assume why the kid was alone and every thought didn’t make him feel any better. He carefully takes the bolt out of the wall making his way over to where they left their crossbow and placed it beside it. Then he went to make sure the rest of the cabin was secure while also exploring it himself.
He noticed the opened cans on the floor but also the few still in the cupboards of the kitchen. He took only one of them, because he was looking for food before the storm hit.
“How long have yea been here?” Daryl asks returning into the room in hopes that the short time of not talking that they would open up slightly. But all they did was readjust to be more comfortable on top of the bookshelf. “You can trust me yknow”
“H-How many walkers have you killed?”
Rick’s questions? “Too many to keep track of”
“P-People?”
“Also…too many to keep track of” Daryl frowns sitting down on the couch that kept the door closed. “But not in ill intent. There was always a reason”
“Good reasons? How c-can there be good reasons for killing people…”
“They threaten the lives of those yea care about”
“Okay…but if that’s it, and not everyone threatens those you care about, then what is the reason”
Self defense? They’ve been bit? I can’t think of anything else? Daryl tried to think hard about it as the kid slouches.
“Killing is so stupid…n-not that the government was better in the old world…but still. Why does it have to only end with that…”
“Things have changed” Daryl frowns opening the can up noticing the kid’s glued stare on the item. Which lead to the archer handing it to them as they devoured its contents in seconds. “There’s so many open cans, but you eat like you haven’t in days”
“I can’t…get the cans open”
“You don’t have a knife?”
“No…”
“Your bolt can help open it”
“I broke the others, that’s my last one”
“How did yea end up alone?” It was coming, even the kid knew that. But they didn’t want to say anything. It was fresh, and some part of Daryl knew that.
“Look, I just opened that one for yea. I’m gonna open another for you to eat and then one for myself. Alright?”
“You’re not—“
“I’m not gonna poison it, kid. You ate that one and haven’t died” Daryl states watching them inspect the can but decided not to think that he did something to it when they were given the next one. “How’d yea find this place?” He asks on his way back to the couch watching the kid climb down the bookcase then deciding to sit on the floor.
“It’s my uncle’s cabin…”
“Is your uncle around?”
They shook their head bringing their sadden gaze back toward the can as they started to eat more slowly this time. Daryl frowns feeling awful for what the kid must’ve gone through before he found them.
When the weather cleared, Daryl stepped out of the cabin as he was a bit surprised that the kid let him stay. But they didn’t seem to want to be alone during the storm because during the night they freaked out from the thunder and Daryl woke to them asleep on the floor next to the couch he slept on. Before he stepped out, he had placed them on the couch.
But a part of him didn’t leave.
Daryl heard quick shuffling inside the cabin seeing the kid run out in a bit of a panic. But once they saw him they straightened up and pretended they didn’t just do that.
“Never got your name”
“Y/N”
“‘M Daryl, are you alright?”
“Uh. Yeah uh. You leaving I guess” Y/N stepped back pressing their back against the wall, fidgeting with the ends of their sleeves.
Deep down, Daryl didn’t want to leave the kid alone and he wasn’t going to. But he wanted to make it seem like their idea to go with him back to their community.
“I can teach yea how to shoot”
The light in their eyes sparked when he said such as they straightened up looking at the archer with a pleasing look.
“Really?”
“Mhm. I’ll give yea a bolt or two. Go get your crossbow, and I’ll set up” Daryl went back inside with the kid as they ran to get their things while he grabbed a few empty cans.
After Daryl had set up a little shooting range, he set his own crossbow against a nearby tree along with his pack before taking a few of his own bolts for Y/N who approached him unnoticed. He flinched which resulted in the kid doing the same.
“Holy fuck”
“Sorry” Y/N frowns gripping the strap to their crossbow. “Didn’t mean to spook you…”
“Yknow going unnoticed like that can save yea and others”
“If I can land a shot…”
“Which we’ll be workin’ on”
The basics, Y/N already knew and Daryl kept an eye on them along with their surroundings for any walkers while they loaded the bolt in and held their crossbow in the right position.
“Gotta widen your stance a bit, not too much but enough to plant yourself”
“How does that help with my aim?”
“Well. Best not to fall over when firin’”
“Mm. Okay” Y/N couldn’t argue with that but before they even could fire the bolt, the two heard a walker. But before Daryl could even get his own crossbow and tell Y/N to get behind him.
They discarded the crossbow and quickly grabbed a rock from the rock pile they had standing outside the cabin. Daryl looks at them confused as he ignored it to grab their crossbow that was already loaded and before he knew it, he watches Y/N climb a near by tree high enough and jump on the walker using the rock to crush its skull enough for them to swiftly take their knife out stabbing the gooey inside.
The sight was a bit horrific that Daryl wishes he could unsee it. But before he could try, he couldn’t help but notice the obvious.
“If yea had a knife, why didn’t yea use that to open the cans?”
“Cuz I had someone to do it for me! Then he died and I was alone for three days before you came” Y/N snaps as they took the rock they used to kill the walker returning it to the pile that clicked to Daryl.
It was a grave in a sense. Without the body.
“I’m sorry”
“Whatever…” They frown readjusting the rock formation a bit as Daryl handed their crossbow back once it was fixed to their liking. “So back to it?”
“Mhm”
A few hours of this and Daryl knew he should be heading back to his community before someone will come looking for him. Not that he needs rescuing. Y/N is harmless for the most part.
One last time, they loaded the bolt into their crossbow and aimed it for one of the cans as Daryl gently pushes the end down a bit to help. That’s when Y/N took the shot and finally got the center of the can.
“Fuck yes!”
“Nice shot”
The unfamiliar voice startled Y/N to hug their crossbow as Daryl quickly assured it was someone he knew that also knew how to sneak up on people unnoticed.
“You didn’t come back so Rick sent me” Carol smiles crossing her arms at the two archers seeing Y/N bring themselves to hide behind Daryl. “I’m not gonna bite. I’m a friend”
“Yeah this is my friend Carol, she’s nice”
“Only nice?” She scoffs.
“Fine, and she’s got an ego” Daryl smirks only to get smacked in the chest by Carol once she approached as Y/N tried to fight back the laugh that escaped them. “But yeah you can trust her, she ain’t scary”
“Nice, not scary. Total package” Carol smiles watching the kid relax faster with her than they did with Daryl as he really had to take into consideration that he did barge in in their home. “You know they can come with us”
“I can?” Y/N quickly looks up at Daryl watching him nod. “Can…uh”
“I can still help yea with working on your bow skills”
Now that lead Y/N to quickly collect their things which wasn’t much but gave the adults enough time to talk about the time Daryl has been gone.
“You know why right?”
“Why what?”
“Why you didn’t leave them” Carol continues to smile at the archer as she watches Y/N step out of the cabin approaching the rock pile once more and taking one into their grasp before they went to retrieve the bolt. “You saw yourself in them…all alone in the woods with no one…couldn’t bear to leave them alone like how you were”
“You gettin’ sappy on me is gonna make it rain again”
“You could just say you are gonna cry” She nudges him followed by a grunt from him and a short lived laugh from her. “They’ll be in good hands. I know for a fact”
Soon the three were on their way back to Alexandria, Y/N kept close to Daryl as this was all new to them that when they stopped a few feet away from the gate…Daryl went to their side and taking it at their speed. Carol wishes she could document it for the books…
Alexandria’s crossbow duo
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This may be a strange question, but as someone who has never gotten the hang of using notebooks in my day to day life (unless it's once in a while to outline something specific like a project for work), what are the kinds of things you write down in them?
for journaling, that's complicated. youtube always recommends me these "journaling will improve your life!" videos and i think they're very funny because i've kept a journal for 20 years and it has made me a worse and more miserable person. so i will not be writing any "how to journal" posts any time soon.
my commonplace notebook, however, is where i keep everything. every morning i write down the date, the hours i slept, and my weight. occasionally i track my mood and mental state, because when i meet with my psychiatrist i like to have cold hard data to give her. then beneath that, i write out my to do list for the day.
it's kind of a reverse bullet journal in that you fill it up with all the random ephemera of your life and then label the important bits with a highlighter and index it later.
more specifically i keep:
the books/movies/shows/etc that are recommended to me.
notes i take at the doctor's office, or when i do my taxes, or get my oil changed. i'm a compulsive note-taker. in fact i started a commonplace notebook because it calms me to have something to write on and with even in situations where that's weird. i'd rather look weird than be anxious.
ideas for fanfic, original work, newsletters, craft thoughts, workshop models, etc.
brainstorming/planning/prewriting stories.
tracking my WIP cleanout and annual goals.
doodling!
i think sometimes we get caught up in building spaces for things to keep them organized, like that's the whole point of bujo. you create a page layout to do a specific function and then you fill it out. but that doesn't account for the stuff you haven't made a page for, stuff that would be blight in a bujo. we also think that a whole page needs to be devoted to a specific thing, or a notebook needs to be devoted to its subject. but you an also just...not do that.
it's a lot of work to setting up a bujo. work i would love to have the energy and aesthetic inclinations to do. but i don't. so i do the next best thing which is fill up every page in the most chaotic way possible.
poorly scanned example pages under the cut:
these are notes i took during my rewatch of Mockingjay in preparation of writing Wind of the New World.
notes about leveling my Genshin team, and notes about a story i was working on. and a to do list.
working through a plot knot in Skinless.
Stardew Valley farm planning. and a grocery list i think.
i don't recommend this method for everyone. i think if i were to have read this post 2 years ago my thought would be, "what the fuck is wrong with you." but it works for me and makes me happy, and as long as all the important information is safely indexed and retrievable, it doesn't matter how messy the pages get.
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do you have any davris headcanons?
i saw this ask the instant it came in and i could not believe my EYES. trust when i tell you ive been typing FURIOUSLY in the meantime
okay. okay headcanons.
-dave has always been a little genderweird and vriska putting makeup on him when she was bored one night unlocked his third eye and now he cant stop putting red shit all over his eyelids
-vriska has also always been genderweird and you can see where im going with this.
-she steals his clothes ALL the time
-he pretends to hate it when she gets her disgusting $5 perfume stink all over said clothes but you know he loves that shit (and she knows it too)
-flaming bisexuals
-once theyve been together for a while they are THE most "i am going to have the longest silent conversation with someone across the room you have ever seen in your life"
-they both think they can read each other like a book but in truth its only about 60-70% accurate
-the inaccuracies are always funny as fuck though and 9 times out of 10 its some entirely off the wall MADNESS due to their upbringings they think is entirely normal. the conversations that directly follow these revelations are legendary amongst the extended crew and every single one thats happened in a public memo has been screenshotted by basically everyone they know
-speaking of which. i dont think they dm for basically anything ever. they either have conversations right in the GC (sometimes in the middle of other conversations, which karkat fucking HATES, especially when they flirt with each other) or they speak in person/over the phone. no in between
-they flirt with each other all the time and its disgusting but its incomprehensible to literally everyone else. vriska tells dave she found some gnarly roadkill and sends coordinates and dave is like "babe stop not in front of everybody"
-she used to send pictures too but that got shut down real quick and now thats really all she dms him for
-i dont think vriska likes it for the same reasons dave does but he did absolutely get her into the weird and wacky world of vulture culture. dave likes the wet specimens the most but vriskas a fan of bones and taxidermy
-speaking of which. this is more vriska/troll-centric but i love the idea of vriska being able to eat bones. dave gets the same schoolboy "oh my god this is so cool" kick out of it every single time
-im well aware that music is a time thing but i genuinely cannot comprehend a world wherein vriska is not a music girlie. this definitely did a lot of the heavy lifting in The Early Days because when youre emotionally constipated sometimes you gotta let a song do the talking FOR you
-vriska 100% introduced dave to crunkcore and he got way more into it than she ever did. he listens to 3oh3 religiously
-dave samples vriska on his tracks all the time because she CANNOT shut the fuck up. he also likes taking pictures of her but even after years together he still kinda keeps those to himself and gets flustered when she finds one
-man i just really love the idea of them being fucking obsessed with each other. they rag on each other ALL the time because thats just how they feel the most comfortable being affectionate but at the end of the day they snuggle up all soft and quiet and just enjoy being with somebody who understands how hard it can be to even allow that to happen in the first place
-they ARE super casually affectionate with each other though, even in group settings. i dont think theyd like grand pda like kissing or saying 'i love you' in public but personal space just doesnt really exist for them. they hang off each other and sling legs over laps all willy nilly
-they also stim on each other. dave likes to play with her hair while hes talking and vriska likes to play with his hands/fingers when shes bored
this post is so LONG i could keep going for days. please always ask me about davris, especially if youve got more specific questions!!!
#homestuck#dave strider#vriska serket#vriska#davris#davevris#we8comic#ironies in the fire#q+a with vel#Anonymous#SORRY I KINDA WENT OFF#please everyone talk to me about davris For Ever
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It was tradition that when a royal heir comes of age, they spend a year in service of The Goddess. The goddess has many different needs, and the tendency for the royal family to have Many offspring means those jobs are readily filled. She can survive without help, or course, as she didn't for centuries before the kingdom, but it is good form to repay her for her help keeping the kingdom prospering.
Your siblings came back from their year telling tales of hard but not unpleasant work. Preparing food and cleaning rooms, keeping watch for thieves outside the treasure room. You figured your year would be spent much the same way. That would not be the case.
The day of your 20th birthday your woken early, stripped and bathed in fine smelling oils and dressed in shear gowns. None of this happened to your siblings. The attendants won't answer your questions as your whisked away without goodbyes to serve your Goddess. You're marched deep into the caves where she lives, deeper and deeper until the ceiling opens up to a grand cavern with a giant blue dragonfly and you kneel before your Goddess.
She is comparable in size to a horse, but much longer. Buzzing overtakes the cavern as she flies over to you, assessing her newest devotee. You are still bowing before her, head down to the ground and back arched- not entirely sure what you're ment to do next.
You don't have to wait long. She lands on top of you, the overwhelming buzzing never stopping. It drowns out every thought as her sharp insecoid legs pinch the sheer gown and rip it to shreds. You can't move. The buzzing is keeping you still. With your head pushed into the ground you can't see her ovipositor extend from her tail, so you don't expect it when she roughly slams it deep into your cunt. When did you get so wet? You've never had something this big inside you, but it slides right in like you were made for her. Your addled mind can only moan at being stuffed so full.
She doesn't fuck you, The Goddess has no need for sex and doesn't care about your pleasure in all of this, but that doesn't stop every nerve in your body from burning with pleasure. The holy ovipositor reaches your cervix, and with a sharp pinch your body yields. Like a mortal could ever keep a goddess at bay.
Eggs. You suddenly understand. You're here to sire her eggs. You cum harder than you ever have before as the first golf ball sized egg forces its way into your womb. In the back of your mind you think about how jealous your siblings will all be, that your year in service was so much Better than theirs. The first egg slipping through your cervix unleashes a flood. You can't even count as you're stuffed fuller and fuller of soft jelly eggs. Soon enough your stomach is swollen, growing to a size that would make someone overdue with twins look lucky. You've lost track over how many times you've cum.
6 months into your year of service, you can feel the eggs hatching inside you. Something deep inside of you tells you it's not time for them to come out yet. That will happen later. For now, you've practically grown bigger every day. Your Goddess largely ignores you, which is a shame because as swollen as you are with her brood you can't exactly tend to the burning fire between your legs. Your one grace has been a lack of movement from the eggs so far, and with them hatching that's come to an end. You can feel your babies squirming around your womb, buldging out the skin even further. It's going to be a long 6 months.
It's the last day of your year of service. You stopped growing about 9 months in, thank The Goddess, but your children have been getting more and more active as times goes on. You can barely think. You can feel deep in your soul that it's time, and start slowly making your way to the entrance of the cave. Just as you reach a pool of water your instincts tell you you need to give birth in, the kingdom comes to watch. Everyone is here, celebrating the good fortune and luck at being blessed to have the offspring of a Goddess. You don't even notice, so wrapped up in a buzzing only you can hear as you push. Slowly but surely, the first larva makes it way out of you and into the cool water below. Then the second. Again and again for hours you labour. The kingdom grows closer as time passes, some admiring your blessed body, some clearing sweat from your brow and offering a cool drink, someone starts playing music. All you can focus on us pushing.
After what feels like years, you're done. You pass out just as the last grub leaves you. Royal attendants clean you and prepare to bring you back to the castle. You'll be highly celebrated for bring such a blessed gift to your people when your recovered enough to walk
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Mandalorian/reader - Hunted
This year's first kinktober prompt! Please heed the content warnings!!!
Mandalorian/F!reader - Noncon, Marking/Claiming, Predator/Prey
Rating: Explicit | WARNING NONCON, BRANDING, ROUGH SEX, GUNPLAY
Word Count: ~2100
One of the good things about Bothawui — despite all of its crowded spaceports and busy hyperspace lanes — is that the planet was mostly empty.
Just a few clicks out of one of the loud, teeming cities found you hiking through the wilderness up the gentle slope of one of the many mountains that littered this continent. It sucked that you had to leave your speeder behind when the brush grew too thick, but that also meant that anyone following you would have to go on foot as well.
The forest was peaceful — if you ignored the million credit bounty on your head and the still smoldering blaster hole in your pack from when you were trying to get off the last planet. Fuck Nal Hutta. Such a shithole.
Tall, slender trees with needle-like green leaves swayed as the wind whistled through the rocky valleys and gorges. Unfamiliar feathered and furred creatures darted through the tall branches and lush undergrowth. It all would have been very beautiful and serene if you weren’t trekking over boulders and roots trying to put as much distance between you and everyone else in the galaxy that apparently wanted you dead.
The last bounty hunter had been a warning. A clumsy Rodian that didn’t anticipate your instincts to flee at the first sign of danger. You had scanned the holonet while stowed away on a transport ship only to find that there was an obscenely high bounty on your head for seemingly no reason.
But you had provisions, and keen senses, and you were prepared to hide out in these mountains for as long as you could before sneaking off to a distant, remote planet to live out the rest of your days in hiding. The outer rim was full of places for people who wanted to disappear.
A branch snapped in the distance behind you.
The sharp crack sent a shiver down your spine. It could just be wildlife, but that kind of thinking wouldn’t keep you alive.
You took off running. Not up the mountain — which would only slow you down enough for your pursuer to overtake you — but to your left, the nearest path with the least amount of craggy boulders.
The pliant branches whipped and scratched at you as you forced your way through the wilderness. Your boots kept sinking into the carpet of leaves and loam, and you stumbled far too much for comfort as you tried to put distance between yourself and whoever could be chasing you. It had to be another bounty hunter. There were no such things as coincidences, especially not this far out in the middle of nowhere.
The pounding of your heart and raggedness of your breath were not good enough reason to stop as you wound along the mountainside as fast as your legs could carry you. But you had been running for so long now, and the sun was beginning to fall behind the distant peaks. Every time you slowed to change course or drag in a deeper breath, you could hear the heavy boots behind you. They were getting closer.
In a last ditch effort, you turned to go back down the mountain. There was nothing you could do anymore, no way to throw this hunter off your trail. Your only option was to keep running.
You knew you were leaving an easy path to follow as you tore through the forest, but you couldn’t take the time to cover your tracks. All you could do was try to outrun your pursuer until you found a place to hide or leave them behind for good. The odds of that were very slim.
A spray of dirt and brown needles kicked up beneath your boot as you skidded down the slope. It took all of your focus not to topple forward.
Something massive slammed into you, knocking the wind from your lungs and throwing you against the hard bark of the nearest tree.
You tried to blink through the ringing in your ears, gasping for breath even as you clawed and kicked at your attacker. You met nothing but armor with every blow, cold and unyielding no matter how much you fought.
The cold tip of a blaster against your neck made you freeze.
A Mandalorian. Hidden beneath an impassive, terrifying helmet. He towered over you, unmoving and unfazed by your struggling.
You pressed back against the tree, gasping for breath as the hunter pinned you in place with an arm across your chest and a blaster barrel digging in just below your jaw.
"Make one more move and I shoot," a cold, modulated voice spoke from the helmet.
“Please,” you whimpered. “I’m innocent. The bounty is a set up.”
“Credits are credits,” the Mandalorian didn’t move an inch. “Why should I care if you’re innocent or not?”
Your blood froze. You didn’t imagine anyone could be so cold. Was your life really worth nothing? Maybe not nothing since there were a million credits on the line, but you never imagined that your life would come to an end over simple greed.
“I’ll give you anything,” you begged. “Whatever it takes to spare my life — you can have it!”
“Anything?” The helmet cocked to the side in consideration. “You’re asking me to walk away from a million credits?”
“I know I can’t pay you, but there has to be something I can do! I can’t die like this.” You sagged against the tree, sobbing as you pleaded for mercy from this hunter that had overtaken you so easily.
The barrel of the blaster trailed down your jaw to your chin, tilting your head this way and that — as if the hunter was inspecting you. You couldn’t read any emotion through the metal and black of the helmet, and your heart pounded in your chest in fear. He could pull the trigger at any moment.
Tears streamed down your face, but you didn’t look away from that helmet. If you were going to die out here, you were going to do it with whatever dignity you could.
The Mandalorian lowered the blaster, and you let out a shaky breath. His other fist closed around the material of your shirt, and you squealed as he threw you to the ground. You had barely pushed yourself to your hands and knees when he kneeled behind you and ripped your clothes. The fabric shredded easily under his strength.
You tried to crawl away, knowing you wouldn’t be able to escape. Large, gloved hands grabbed you by the hips and dragged you back through the dirt and leaves, ignoring your screams.
The Mandalorian lifted your hips, forcing your knees apart beneath you and baring you completely.
You didn’t try to escape again, knowing that he would not hesitate to kill you. All you could do was squeeze your eyes shut and wait for what was to come. You could hear the Mandalorian kneeling just behind you, and you braced for pain.
But there was no pain, just something cold and unyielding trailing over your bare skin and making you wince. It took you several seconds to realize that it was the blaster barrel. The Mandalorian was teasing you with his weapon.
You whimpered as the tip of the barrel brushed over your entrance. On the second pass, the metal pushed inside, stretching you open.
“Please,” you begged, not sure what you were asking for. You knew that you were entirely at the mercy of this hunter, and that your life was in his hands. You would do anything he asked, and he could do whatever he pleased.
The blaster pushed inside another half inch, and you hated that you could feel yourself growing slick around it. This was wrong. You were overpowered and treated like prey, forced to the forest floor and fucked with a deadly weapon. Why did it make you ache? Why did you want more?
The leather of his gloves was cool to the touch as the Mandalorian gripped your ass, spreading you open obscenely as he fucked you with the blaster. The thrusts were shallow and slow. Practically teasing. The pain of the stretch was subsiding, and all you could do was whimper into the dirt as he toyed with you.
You cried out when he suddenly forced the blaster deeper inside of you, the terror more than you could handle as you screamed and tried to scramble away from the new pain. And then the weapon was gone, and you were aching and empty.
Somehow that felt worse.
The gloved hands clamped around your middle, rolling you onto your back so the Mandalorian could pin you beneath him. You stared up at the expressionless visor, the gleaming armor. He had knives and blasters and bombs, and you were naked and unarmed.
“Your life belongs to me,” he growled, feral and low even through the helmet’s voice modulator. “You understand?”
You nodded, knowing that this was the price you would pay to not be killed, to not be turned over to a fate worse than death. You were giving yourself over to this hunter instead.
He opened the fasten of his pants, stroking himself and sighing behind the helmet as he forced your thighs apart. His cock was huge even in his gloved hand, and you knew the barrel of the blaster had done little to prepare you for what was to come.
He splayed on gloved hand over your lower belly, forcing you in place as he lined himself up. “I own you,” he said, before forcing his cock inside.
You whimpered and cried, clawing at his armor as he sank inside you to the hilt, stretching you wide and filling you so deep you could feel his cock pressing into his own palm on your belly. All you could do was beg and plead, even though you had no idea what you were asking for, staring into the impassive visor of his helmet.
His hands moved to your hips as he began to fuck you, hard and deep with every thrust. You hated the way you were dripping around his cock, the way you could feel pleasure beginning to build with every thrust. He noticed immediately when your whimpers of fear turned to desperate moans of pleasure.
“That’s right, mutt. This is where you belong. Crying on my cock.”
He started fucking you faster, forcing your hips into the dirt as he hitched your knees over the cold armor plates on his shoulders. You were bent practically in half, split apart on his cock as he fucked you through your tears.
He chuckled when you came, eyes fluttering shut as you clenched around him. “You like that, little mutt?” He fucked you through your orgasm, his own breaths growing ragged as he drew nearer to his own. “You like being owned?”
All you could do was nod. It felt so good, and the rush of fear and pleasure and pain was overwhelming. Everything felt too real, yet like a dream.
He growled again as he came, forcing his cock deep inside and settling his entire weight on you. He was marking you. Claiming you.
You collapsed into the dirt when he finally pulled out, wiping his slick cock against your thighs to clean himself. It hurt to curl onto your side, to try and hide your face against the ground.
“You want to live?” The Mandalorian asked, wiping his blaster on your ruined clothes.
You looked up at him brokenly, nodding through your tears.
“Then you belong to me. That’s the price. If you decide you change your mind, I get my million credits.”
All you could do was nod. You weren’t expecting the Mandalorian to kneel beside you, brushing the dirt from your cheek with his thumb. “I’m gonna mark you as mine, mutt. You’re gonna want to bite down on this.”
He pulled his glove off and shoved the soft leather between your teeth. You did as he ordered, trying to stifle your terrified whines as he pulled a branding laser from his belt. The kind you had seen used on livestock.
He brushed the dirt and leaves from your hip and thigh, positioning his mark over the bared skin.
You screamed when the laser scorched your skin, etching the Mandalorian’s claim into your hip with a flash and a hiss. You were thankful for the glove, or you surely would have cracked your teeth.
You could feel the hunter’s come dripping out of you and spilling over your thighs. You had given yourself up completely, used and claimed. But the sense of danger had passed. You were alive.
A breeze whistled through the trees, cool air brushing the newly burned skin. The mark was unfamiliar, a symbol you hadn’t seen before. Some kind of horned beast. It looked beautiful in a way.
“Easy, mutt,” he soothed you. “It’s done. You’re mine.”
#kinktober 2023#the mandalorian#mandalorian#the mandalorian/reader#mandalorian/reader#din djarin#din djarin/reader#din djarin x reader#mandalorian x reader
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a/n: a fun (long) little something! @making-it-big requested wedding night/honeymoon and i’m giving you guys both! also writing smut is hard (lol) sometimes and i lost track of limbs at a certain point, so like, just go with it. i actually went to greece this past summer so some of the trip details are pulled from my own vacation! 🥰 let me know if you guys want a separate post of the pics that sort of correspond with this fic, including one of the hotels!
word count: 9.1k (!!!!!)
tw: smut smut smut with dirty talking drei and our standard google-translated russian disclaimer 😂
summary: a wedding in raleigh followed by a honeymoon in greece, island hopping with andrei
Everything after the priest declared you husband and wife and Andrei dipped you back in a dramatic kiss is a little bit of a blur.
You’re announced as Mr. and Mrs. Svechnikov at the reception and have your first dance to Madonna’s Crazy for You, which is mildly embarrassing but it’s the song that was playing when you kissed for the first time, so it’s kind of your song. Andrei dances with Elena and you dance with your dad, wiping your tears on the tissue you keep wadded up in your fist.
Dinner is served and the table of hockey players clink their knives against their water glasses every twenty minutes so Andrei will kiss you. He obliges happily every time, cradling your face and kissing you sweetly. You grin against his mouth, the cacophony of cheers from your wedding guests the best soundtracks.
After you cut the cake - vanilla with white chocolate raspberry filling and a spray of flowers that match your bouquet falling down the sides of the tiers - the DJ kicks into high gear and everyone is crowding the dance floor. Andrei’s hands are on your waist while you dance, holding you close, your ass against his groin. You laugh, barely caring that there’s so many of your relatives watching. You can barely feel your feet and your face hurts from smiling.
The first reception carries on until one and by then all the older guests and both sets of parents have gone to bed.
You and Andrei thought ahead and rented out the attached and enclosed patio space for another few hours and while the music is playing, you both rush up to the honeymoon suite, giggling and holding hands.
“Did I tell you you look beautiful?” Andrei asks, kissing a trail down the back of your neck while he unzips your dress.
“Yes, but you can say it again,” you laugh, letting the dress fall to the floor and stepping out of it.
Andrei turns you in his arms and kisses you deeply, his hands warm and broad on your skin. You clutch at the front of his shirt, holding on for dear life. “You look beautiful,” he murmurs, kissing you softer.
His hands slide down over your ass, squeezing, and you wriggle in his grip, pressing against his front. “As much as I can’t wait to have wedding night sex,” you grin, twisting your fingers in the untied fabric of his bow tie, “I want to change and get back to our friends!”
Andrei’s hands slip between your thighs and you squirm, his fingers thick and pressing against the seam between your legs. “They won’t miss us,” he murmurs, teasing you, stroking his fingers gently against the fabric of your underwear.
“Oh,” you gasp, knees turning to putty under his touch, “we only get one wedding reception after-party.”
He presses a kiss, chaste considering where his fingers are, to your temple and hums against your skin. “I guess. Just means you’ll be even more ready for me,” his voice is low, husky, and you’re honestly tempted to say fuck the after party and fuck him against the wall.
You shiver and dance away from him, the hot imprints of his fingers still burning your skin. “I’m always ready for you,” you admit shakily, taking your after-party dress off its hanger and slipping into it. The feathers on the miniskirt’s hem tickle at your bare thighs and you do a little twirl to get the skirt flaring out. You fell in love with the dress after seeing it in a little boutique after your bridal shower and thought about wearing it for the rehearsal dinner, but the feathers and thin straps felt more appropriate for the after-party.
Andrei looks over from where he’s hanging up your ceremony dress - you have him trained so well with all this wedding stuff - and his jaw drops. “Solnyshka,” he breathes, “you have to let me take that dress off of you and fuck you. Please.”
“Later, Mr. Svechnikov,” you croon, trailing your fingers over the edge of his jaw. It’s been so many hours since he last shaved, his jaw is lightly stubbled again. Andrei leans into your touch, growling when you giggle and skip to the door. He hurries after you, snagging your hand and lacing your fingers together.
You’re immediately handed a shot when you get back to the party and toss it back, grimacing a little. Andrei accepts a glass from Geno and you’re almost positive it’s full of vodka, but he doesn’t react at all when he takes a drink. The music is loud and you’re immediately dancing, shimmying and jumping to the old-school classics. Andrei, Geno, Brady, and Pyotr jump and shout lyrics at each other, but Andrei’s hands never leave your body. Even when he’s not looking at you, his hand is in yours or touching your back.
Eventually, he loses the bow tie and his shirt gets unbuttoned. Geno has his tie around his head and all the groomsmen are in various states of disheveled. You gravitate to Andrei, looping your arms around his neck and swaying against him, lazily grinding on him. He’s hard behind his tuxedo pants, kissing softly behind your ear. The music doesn’t match the tempo of your dance and all of your friends are jumping and dancing around you. But it’s dark outside the venue and right now, the only thing you’re aware of is Andrei’s fingers tangling in the bun that’s loosening at the nape of your neck and the feeling of his body against yours.
“Party’s winding down, zhena,” Andrei whispers in your ear, warm breath sending a shiver up your spine. And that's a new thing, how he's been calling you wife all night. In Russian or in English, he doesn't care. He's marking you as his.
The loud music and flowing alcohol is telling a different story, but you blink up at Andrei. His hair is mussed, flipped over his forehead, and his face is flushed from dancing and drinking. His lips curl up in a soft smile and you lean up on tiptoes to press your lips to his.
“I don’t think they’ll miss us, muzh,” you murmur against his lips, feeling his smirk when he realizes you called him ‘husband’ in Russian. You'd learned the pronunciation specifically for today. His hands tighten in your hair, angling your head back a little so he can kiss you again, deeper this time.
Your body melts against Andrei’s, warmth rushing through your veins. “Take me to bed, Mr. Svechnikov,” you whisper, giggling. He wraps an arm around your waist and lifts you off your feet. Holding you against his side, Andrei practically runs from the room. You cling to his neck, laughing the entire time.
In the elevator back up to the suite, Andrei pins you against the wall, resting one hand next to your head and sliding the other up and under your skirt. You lean into his touch, kissing him hungrily. His fingers play at the edges of your panties, disappearing beneath the fabric to stroke you gently. The doors slide open before he can really do anything and you’re back in his arms, being carried into the honeymoon suite.
Andrei lays you out on the bed and you kick one foot up. He grabs your ankle with fast reflexes and grins at you. “Yes?”
“I can’t do the buckles from up here,” you pout, batting your eyelashes at him. Andrei laughs, traced his index finger over the arch of your foot and over the top. He taps at the buckle.
“What’s the magic word, zhena?”
“Pozhaluysta, muzh,” you coo, butchering the pronunciation and slurring the words together a little. Even still, Andrei’s grip tightens around your ankle and the front of his pants grow tighter.
He makes quick work of the little buckle, letting your heel fall to the ground. The bow on the toe of the Jimmy Choos is likely to get crumpled, but Andrei kisses your ankle bone and your brain short circuits a bit. He sets your ankle on his shoulder and grabs for your other foot, undoing that buckle equally as quick. Before you know it, both your ankles are draped over Andrei’s shoulders and his hands are roaming up your thighs. You whine his name and he pinches the inside of your thigh gently.
“I want to enjoy this,” he murmurs, hand grasping at the lace of your panties and tugging. You frown at the sound of the fabric ripping, but immediately gasp and arch your back when Andrei buries two fingers in you without warning.
“Drei!” You moan, clenching around his fingers, wiggling at the sensation. Your legs try to snap together, trapping Andrei’s head between your knees.
“Zhena,” he whispers, “moya zhena, I’m going to make you come until the sun comes up.”
You think you make orgasm from his words alone, but then he crooks his fingers and you shout, kicking one heel against his shoulder and twisting the sheet in your fists. He grins, self-satisfied, and leans down to kiss you, the change of angle driving his fingers even deeper. You push at his shirt with your heels, getting it off one arm and leaving it to drape over the mattress, still on the other arm.
“Drei, please, I need,” you babble, sucking in a breath when the pad of his thumb finds your clit and strokes it roughly. “Shit, more, please.”
He adds a third finger and you cry out his name, grinding against his hand, heat coiling and building low in your stomach. His other hand grips at your thigh, massaging the muscle while he encourages you. “Come on, solnyshka, come for your husband, like a good little wife.”
“Andreiiii,” you chant his name, breathless, arching your back and clenching around his fingers. He crooks his fingers and presses down hard on your clit and you’re over the edge, starbursts dancing behind your eyes. He’s talking you through your orgasm, stroking your thigh with one hand, murmuring about what a good girl you are. You gasp and slump back against the mattress, a few feathers drifting around your head from where they’ve basically been fucked off your dress. “Christ,” you mumble, dazed.
Andrei slowly withdraws his fingers, the loss of them making you feel empty. He shakes his shirt off his arm and it flutters to the floor while Andrei sticks his fingers in his mouth and sucks them clean while holding eye contact with you.
You groan, “are you trying to make me come without even touching me?” You wiggle against the sheets, feeling hot and sweaty. Your dress bunches up at your upper thighs and Andrei’s gaze dips down.
“My love,” he grins, kneeling on the bed with one knee so the mattress dips with his weight, “you’ll know when I’m trying to make you come.”
He undoes the buckle of his belt, the clinking of metal on metal when his wedding band slips against the buckle making your gaze trail down. The fly of his tuxedo pants is open and you can see the bulge of his erection against his black boxer-briefs. You sit up a little, angling to lean forward and reach for him, but Andrei shakes his head.
“No, no,” he murmurs, wrapping a hand around your wrist. “What kind of husband would I be,” he brings your hand to his mouth and kisses your palm, “if I didn’t take care of my wife?”
His voice, deep and warm, fills you with desire and you sigh, pressing your thighs together, already a mess for him. “Andrei, don’t tease,” you whine, wiggling your fingers at him. “I just want to feel you. I want you in me.”
Leaning down and forcing you to lie back again, Andrei braces his hand next to your head and kisses you sweetly. “You will,” he promises, smoothing his other hand over your cheek. “I’m going to make love to my wife,” he murmurs, kissing you again. His hand moves around your back and he plays with the zipper of your dress. You get the hint and scoot into a sitting position so he can work the zipper with one hand and slip the dress off your body, leaving you bare except for your strapless bra. Andrei kisses the swell of each breast and flicks at the clasp, discarding the bra to the floor. You kick a little at the dress and it slips to the floor where it’s joined quickly by Andrei’s pants, leaving you staring at his erection straining behind the black cotton.
“Lie back,” he commands and you do, already slightly breathless. He kneels on the bed again, your legs falling open to make room for him to get in between your thighs. “So beautiful,” he mumbles, absently, almost to himself, while he pulls himself out of his boxer-briefs, stroking his already hard length into a steel rod. His cock juts put in front of him and your mouth waters at the sight. You can’t believe that this gorgeous man is yours, forever.
“Andrei,” you pout, hand sliding between your legs to alleviate some of the growing pressure. He doesn’t make a move to stop you and instead his gaze is laser focused on where your fingers are circling your clit. You gasp. “Please, I need more, I need you,” you whisper, hooking an ankle around his thigh and tugging. You can’t move him on your own, so when he shifts forward, you know he’s going to give you what you want.
He lowers his body over yours, nestled in between your legs, his weight braced on one hand. You grin up at him, tracing his bicep with your free hand and pushing at his boxer-briefs with the other. Your fingers brush his cock and he shivers, hips jolting. “Make love to me, Andrei,” you murmur, lifting your head to kiss him, sucking his bottom lip in between your teeth. He groans into your mouth and your guide him to your entrance, the head of his cock bumping against your clit and sending delicious shocks down to your toes.
Still kissing you, Andrei rolls his hips and enters you. You gasp into his mouth and meet his hips with yours. He sets a slow, leisurely pace, thrusting gently and keeping control. Your legs hook around his waist, deepening the angle. His hips roll and you meet him thrust for thrust.
“Drei,” you gasp his name, raking your nails down his back. “More, please.”
He picks up the pace, but just barely, the tension building low in your stomach. Your hands roam his body, slick with sweat, and tangle in his hair.
He kisses you again and it’s cheesy, because you’ve kissed Andrei hundreds, thousands, hundred thousands of times, but this is different. These kisses are so much more. They’re soft and hungry and lazy and so full of love.
Andrei thrusts again, dipping his hand between your bodies because he knows exactly how to get you to come and your thighs are trembling with the building tension. “Come on, little wife,” he murmurs hoarsely, biting gently at the swell of your breast, flicking his tongue over your nipple. “Show me how beautiful you are when you come.”
You cry his name, clenching around him and then you’re both coming, clutching each other’s bodies. Your nails dig into his arms and Andrei’s face is buried in your neck. He’s breathing heavily, filling you and pumping his hips and it’s overwhelming, just how much you love him. You melt into the mattress, boneless, and encourage Andrei through his orgasm, stroking his neck and murmuring softly to him. He exhaled roughly and drops down from shaky arms, half of his body covering yours.
“I think I like married sex,” you huff a laugh, twisting a piece of Andrei’s hair between your fingers. His thigh is wedged in between yours and you resist the urge to rub your still sensitive clit against the hard, corded muscle.
He kisses your shoulder. “Me too,” he chuckles. His fingers trace a lazy pattern over your side, dragging from your hip bone up to the side of your breast and back down. You yawn, the repetitive motion soothing you and dragging your eyelids shut. You have no idea what time it is, but it has to be late, or early. The blackout curtains are drawn, but you wouldn’t be surprised if the sun is starting to come up.
“Don’t go to sleep,” Andrei says, already rolling off of you. “Let me clean you up.”
He gets out of bed and pads naked to the bathroom. You take the opportunity to roll on your side and ogle his firm, round ass. His entire form is lean muscle and strong, solid thighs. You swipe a hand between your legs and press at your clit, unfairly aroused and overstimulated by his body. Andrei’s back with a damp washcloth before you can really do anything about it, but he catches you and smirks, eyes flashing. He holds the cloth up and crooks a finger at you. “Come here,” he says, even as he’s climbing back into bed and dragging your legs over his lap.
Slowly, torturously, he runs the cloth between your legs and you squirm. The rough fabric is too much for your sensitive nerves and Andrei knows it. He moves even slower and only smiles when you grind your hips over his hand. “Going for the hat trick?” He laughs, everything brought back to hockey with him.
You frown. “It’s not fair that you’re so damn attractive,” you’re breathless, working yourself over the cloth and his hand. He just laughs again, the bastard, and helps you along until you’re coming for the third time, sweaty and completely limp in his arms. Andrei gathers you against his chest and you press your hot, sweaty cheek against his heart.
“I have to get up and pee,” you mumble, “but I don’t think I can walk.”
He kisses the top of your head and carries you into the bathroom, letting you do your business and get cleaned up while he goes back to sit on the edge of the bed. He’s yawning when you come back, still naked, but face clean of the stray makeup smudges. Your hair is tangled and still half in its bun, so you’ve left it to be tomorrow’s problem. Andrei opens his arms and you step in between his legs, resting your forearms on his shoulders. He leans forward and rests his forehead in the valley between your breasts, breathing softly. Another yawn works it’s way through your body and you shift, pushing Andrei back on the bed and climbing up with him. “I really need to sleep,” you sigh, your eyelids getting heavy again.
Andrei nods, looking tired himself. You both climb under the covers on your usual sides of the bed - Andrei closer to the door and you closer to the window - and lie down facing each other. You trace Andrei’s features with your index finger, running over his jaw line, forehead, and the line of his nose. His eyes flutter shut at your touch and his hand reaches for you, landing on your hip and pulling you close. You tuck your head under his chin, trailing your fingers over the column of his neck and feeling the stubble that’s there. “I love you, solnyshka,” he says quietly, his chest vibrating under your body.
“I love you,” you sigh, curling up close to him and falling asleep within minutes.
You wake up late the next morning, sunlight streaming brightly around the cracks of the curtains. Stretching out your entire body, you realize Andrei’s still asleep too. He must be exhausted since usually he’s up well before you. He’s flat on his back, arm thrown over his face, and sheet tented over his lap. Andrei’s mouth is a little open and he’s snoring softly - looking adorable while he’s at it. You reach for your phone, planning on taking a picture - the first picture of your husband (!) that you’ll take on your own phone - but when the screen lights up, you catch sight of the time and wince. It’s nearly noon, which would be late in the day normally, but your parents planned a day-after-the-wedding lunch for the guests staying at the hotel, scheduled to start at one. You both need showers and to change, so you drop your phone in the covers and smooth a hand over Andrei’s stomach, gliding it up over his pecs and curling it around the back of his neck before cupping his cheek, scratching your nails into his stubble.
“Drei, baby, time to get up,” you murmur, leaning down and pressing kisses to his chest and shoulder. “We have lunch in an hour.”
He grumbles - the only time he’s not a bouncing ball of energy and positivity is the few minutes right before he’s fully awake - and turns his head so he can press his cheek fully into your palm. “No,” he mumbles into your skin. “Nyet, do obeda. Ostavat'sya v posteli.”
He does that too, revert to Russian in his sleep. You brush your nose against his cheek. “I don’t know what that means beyond ‘nyet’ so whatever you said isn’t going to stop me,” you laugh a little.
Andrei cracks one eye open and squints at you. His lips curl up in a lazy smile and his hand lands on your waist. “I said,” he sighs, “no to lunch. Let’s stay in bed.”
You let him pull you against his side even as you’re shaking your head, which is a mistake because that seems to trigger your hangover. You press your lips together and wait for a minute before continuing, “we have two and a half weeks in Greece to relax and stay in bed, let’s go see everyone and eat because I’m starving.”
“I’ll order room service,” Andrei jokes, waking up and sitting up to kiss you.
“I want to see how hungover everyone is,” you giggle. “And you know what they say, happy wife, happy life.”
He swats at your ass a little when you roll away from him, laughing, and climb out of bed. You wiggle your ass in his direction playfully, “your wife wants you to join her in the shower, aren’t you going to make me happy?”
“That I can do,” Andrei promises, getting out of bed and wrapping his arms around your waist to carry you into the shower.
Of course, the shower takes twice as long as it should and by the time you get dressed - casually because once you opened the blinds, the afternoon North Carolina sunlight had nearly blinded you and caused a headache to form right between your eyes and nausea to roll your stomach - you’re running late to your own celebratory lunch. Andrei’s fingers play with the tie straps on your sundress as you head downstairs and you lean against him heavily. “I don’t understand how you don’t get hungover,” you mumble. “It’s unconscionable.”
He chuckles, chest vibrating against your back. “I’m bigger and Russian,” he shrugs, all the explanation you’re going to get. Truthfully, you just think he didn’t have as much to drink as you did. Even during the off-season, Andrei isn’t that big of a partier.
Once you get down to the hotel’s dining space, it’s all you can do not to laugh. The room is split into two camps - the older relatives who checked out by the end of the main reception and the friends and younger relatives that had partied with you at the after-party. The adults look tired, but happy, and your friends look like death warmed up.
Brady’s cradling his head in his hands while Gracia nudges toast in front of him. Pyotr has his head pillowed on his arms on the table. Geno has his sunglasses on inside and you spot Elena pointing him out to your mom and laughing, shaking her head at him. Jordan’s nursing a mug of coffee and you spot your best friends taking a carafe of coffee directly from the waiter and setting it on the table in front of them.
“Rough night?” You giggle, pressing your fingers to your temple at the spike of pain. The girls look up at you with bloodshot eyes.
Tia groans, “who challenges Russian hockey players to a drinking contest?”
“A moron, that’s who,” Kate murmurs, her voice nearly gone from scream-singing.
“Who’d you challenge?” Andrei asks, munching on a piece of bacon. You look at his food with a jealous eye and he holds out the half-eaten strip for you. You take a bite gratefully and chew while you wait for Tia’s answer.
She wrinkles her nose. “Who didn’t I challenge is the question, but I finally tapped out against Pyotr and Geno.”
“It was impressive,” Geno mumbles, holding his hand up for Tia to slap in a high-five.
“Party of the year, Svechy,” Brady grins. “But fuck, I’m gonna feel this hangover for a week.”
Andrei smirks at his friend and says, “good thing it’s off-season.”
Your mom calls you both over and you wind your way amongst the tables, leaving your hungover friends to recover. Andrei’s hand is warm against your lower back as you head across the room, his fingers splayed out.
“Honey,” your mom pats your hip when you reach her side, “I think you could use a little make-up, right here.” She waves her hand in the general area of her neck and you flush, knowing she means the hickeys Andrei sucked into your skin the night before.
“I, um, I’ll take that into consideration,” you stammer, even as Andrei sniggers behind your back. You swing your leg back, kicking your heel into his shin, and he just wraps his arms around your waist and rests his chin on your shoulder.
Shooting the parents a wide and innocent, but sincere, smile, he says, “thank you, all of you, for helping us have the best wedding yesterday. We appreciate it very much.”
Your mother’s attention is now on her new son-in-law and not the marks on your neck. She smiles at him, “it was more than our pleasure. You two deserve it.”
“And especially the vacation,” Elena chimes in. “It’s well-earned.”
It definitely is. Andrei’s fresh off a Stanley Cup victory and you’re fresh off the stress of planning a wedding around the playoffs. You can’t wait to soak up the Mediterranean sun and have sex with your husband in between delicious meals. Your flight leaves the next afternoon and you’re more than ready to get going.
The parents release you back to your friends and lunch becomes a fun, lazy affair, a continuation of the after-party, where it’s revealed that Kate and Pyotr had hooked up in the hotel’s garden and half the team had lost money on that bet.
Eventually, you’re gently kicked out of the dining hall and your parents come up to the honeymoon suite to take both of your dresses to be cleaned and preserved for you while you’re in Greece. Elena and Igor take Andrei’s tux and put it in their car along with the three other tuxes belonging to your dad, Igor, and Geno. They’ve kindly volunteered to return them so it’s one less thing for Andrei to worry about when you get back.
Geno unloads Andrei’s honeymoon suitcase from his car, setting it next to yours in the back corner of the suite where it’s been since the morning of the wedding. You’re getting another night in the hotel before you leave for Greece, so all the luggage had to be brought with you. Not that it matters really, you’ve been packed for a week, beyond excited for the trip, and you’d packed most of Andrei’s stuff too. “What do you have in here?” Geno asks, teasing. “All of your hair products?”
Andrei raises an eyebrow at his brother and deadpans, “sex toys.”
You giggle while Geno processes for a few silent seconds before cracking into his trademark missing-toothed grin. He laughs loudly and cups Andrei’s face in his hands, squeezing his little brother’s cheek’s together. “You’re a little shit,” he shakes his head affectionately, “you know that?”
“Learned from the best,” Andrei mumbles, trying to smile while Geno is squishing his face.
The rest of the day and the next morning passes in a blur of last minute preparation, couples massages, and sex on every surface of the honeymoon suite. You put the shower bench to particularly good use.
Finally, after a quick lunch, you’re on the way to the airport, vibrating with excitement in the back seat. “I can’t believe we’re going to be completely and totally off the grid,” you sigh, closing your eyes and thinking about it. You’d decided against an international plan and are keeping your phones on airplane mode the entire trip, save for a few minutes at the end of the day when you’ll connect to hotel WiFi to check in with your parents. “It’s going to be so nice.”
“I’m just looking forward to spending time with you,” Andrei says sweetly, kissing your cheek.
Your flight ends up delayed for two hours, meaning more time to people-watch in the airport. Andrei gets bored sitting around and does laps, reporting back that he found no less than four Auntie Anne’s pretzel shops. “And you didn’t bring me cinnamon sugar pretzel nuggets?” You shake your head. “Bad start to the marriage.”
He does another lap and brings you the nuggets along with a lemonade, stealing a few pretzels from the cup before he hands them over.
Once you’re on the plane - first class(!) - Andrei takes both of your carry-ons and stows them away, letting you have the first shift in the window seat. You’ve learned over the past few years of dating that you both love the window seat, but Andrei would rather sit there during touchdown and you like it during takeoff, which makes it easy to switch off.
After takeoff, you get comfortable in your seat, kicking off your sneakers and folding your legs up on the seat. Andrei stretches out his legs and crosses them at the ankle, grinning when he sees you aiming your phone at him for a picture and throwing up a thumbs-up. Picture taking and documenting memories in scrapbooks is one of your love languages and Andrei learned early on how to be an Instagram husband, to pose for shots, and to always be aware that you’re taking candids.
“Make sure you save your boarding pass,” you say. “It’s going in the honeymoon scrapbook.”
He holds the slip of paper up in between his index and middle fingers, smirking, “whatever you say, wife.”
“Excellent,” you lean over the armrest and kiss him softly.
The flight attendant comes by with drinks and catches you kissing Andrei. “Aren’t you two adorable?” She comments, handing Andrei a water and you a ginger ale (it just tastes different on a plane).
You can’t help yourself and burst out, “we’re on our way to Greece for our honeymoon!”
“Well!” She beams, clapping her hands. “That’s so exciting! I wish you both a long and happy marriage.”
You thank her, Andrei chiming in at the same time.
The flight is uneventful. Andrei falls asleep almost immediately, since he’s so used to plane travel, and you know to wake him up for snacks and meal service. You’ve never been able to sleep on a plane, too excited and eager to enjoy the experience, so you find a movie to watch. Over the seven hours, you watch Top Gun and cry when Goose dies, Ghostbusters: Afterlife and cry when Harold Ramis’s character appears as a ghost or vision or whatever at the end, and The Parent Trap. You don’t cry during that one, but that’s mostly because you’ve seen it so many times and you’re desensitised.
Andrei stirs a little, waking up for dinner and to tease you about crying over old movies. You wrinkle your nose at him and he holds your hand when he falls back asleep.
You booked the trip through a Greek travel company, which means literally everything was taken care of including all transfers to and from the airport and the different hotels and islands, so all you have to do when you land, is gather your luggage and find the man holding up the SVECHNIKOV placard. Andrei drags the one large checked suitcase and his carry-on behind him, his backpack secure on his back. You’re left with your rolling carry-on and the old Jansport you’re using as a personal item for travel purposes.
“Mr and Mrs Svechnikov?” The man smiles at them. “I am James, I will drive you to the hotel.” He takes the suitcase from you and tries to take one from Andrei, but your husband is firm that he’ll pull his own suitcase. You traipse along behind both men, still taking in the sights and sounds of the Athens airport.
The heat hits you the second you step foot outside, a warm wall that has you sweating witching a few feet. The sun is bright and the air feels thick. You slide your sunglasses over your face and push up the sleeves of your travel sweatshirt, grinning like a fool at Andrei. He shares your smile, looking around at the mountainous surroundings.
It’s about a half-hour drive to the hotel and you find yourself dozing, leaning against Andrei’s arm, as you drive. The time difference and lack of sleep over the past few days are catching up to you. The warm of Andrei’s body next to yours isn’t helping. But after your little nap, you feel refreshed when you get to the hotel. So refreshed that you immediately drop the bags off and start exploring the neighborhood. Andrei holds your hand as you walk, taking in the vibrant surroundings and the smells of amazing food. You bounce on the balls of your feet every time you spot a stray cat and squeal when you stumble on the Acropolis.
“Oh my god, Drei!” You grin. “We’re actually here. Like we’re actually, really in Greece on our honeymoon.”
He laughs and kisses you. “I know, solnyshka. It feels like a dream.”
The entire trip is a dream. You get up early the next morning and hike up the slope of the Parthenon to see the Acropolis. It’s hot, but beautiful. You looks around in awe, overwhelmed by the history and architectural work. Andrei asks a couple if they’ll take a photo of the two of you and he pulls you into his arms, holding you against his side and smiling widely for the picture. You lean up to kiss his cheek for another photo.
By the time you start the walk back down, it’s even hotter and the crowds are getting out of control. Andrei is at your back, keeping a watch as you go down the marble steps. Once you get to the bottom, you get two frozen lemonades, plain for Andrei and strawberry for you, and lean against a nearby wall to suck them down and cool off.
“There’s so much history here,” you say, looking around. “It’s just so cool! I mean, to think that the Acropolis was built so many hundreds of years ago and it’s still standing.”
“Nerd,” he teases you affectionately.
After a few days in Athens, you’re shuffled off to the ferry via car service early in the morning. It’s still dark when you get in line to board and you’re wrapped in a sweatshirt while you lean on the big suitcase. Andrei’s hand is warm on your back and your legs tingle a little, still sore from the marathon sex you’ve been having. You sip at your coffee, enjoying just how strong the Greek coffee is. “We definitely need to bring some of this coffee back home,” you say, holding your cup up for Andrei to have a sip.
“A cup of this before a game and I’m flying,” he agrees.
“You could use that, old man,” you tease him, nudging his foot with yours and he smacks at your ass a little.
“Brat.”
You smirk at him. “Guess you’ll have to punish me, then.”
Andrei’s eyes darken in the dim light, but before he gets the chance to say anything, the line starts moving and there’s an announcement that boarding is happening. You shuffle along, Andrei’s hand reaching out to pinch your ass, making you yelp. When you look back at him, he just smiles innocently.
The ferry ride to Naxos from Athens isn’t very long, just about four hours, but it’s long enough for you both to get in quick naps once you find your seats. Andrei has his legs propped up on the suitcase, keeping it close, and your lips tilt up at the sight of him with his head back and his baseball cap over his face. You snap a picture.
Naxos is gorgeous, but your hotel is smack in the middle of nowhere and has an outdated 70s vibe that makes you think of murder motels. It’s an uncharitable thought because everyone is so nice and polite, especially when they find out you’re celebrating your honeymoon. The beach is a thirty minute walk in one direction and the town is more than an hour’s walk in the other. You manage to figure out the bus system and are on the beach, laying on side-by-side lounge chairs in under an hour. The water is too gorgeous to be real and it’s warm enough that you don’t have to tentatively step in and get used to it.
The days pass by in a blur of sun and sand, picnics packed for lunch, and in one memorable afternoon, a stumble on a nude beach.
“Oh my god!” You yelp, eyes going wide. “We have to turn around.”
Andrei’s laughing so hard he can’t speak, averting his eyes from looking directly at all the old people baring it all. You cover your eyes on the side like you’re wearing blinders and speed walk back in the direction of your chairs. “Solnyshka,” Andrei calls after you, still laughing, “it’s natural! What if I decided to strip down? Would you run away from me?”
“No!” You smother a horrified laugh. “But you’re my husband and your balls don’t hang down to your ankles. It’s not exactly a hardship to look at your naked body, Andrei!”
“Well that’s good to hear,” he deadpans. A smirk cracks his facade and he starts to giggle again. “You just looked so horrified.”
“They’re old! And wrinkled! And their skin is like leather - has no one heard of moisturiser?” You shake your head, planning on rubbing in another layer of sunscreen when you’re back at your chairs.
Dinner is usually a relaxed affair, sitting at some taverna by the water, plates of appetizers covering the table. You have a Greek salad with every meal, thoroughly enjoying the feta and fresh tomatoes. Naxos is known for their cheese, so you order a cheese platter one night and share approximately two pieces with Andrei, fighting each other with your forks. He distracts you, pointing over your shoulder and exclaiming that he sees dolphins, and when you look over to see nothing, he pulls the cheese plate to himself and protectively encircles his arms around it, laughing when you start tugging at his hands. There’s this amazingly bright beet dip - a perfect magenta pink and so addictive with the grilled pita bread.
“I could marry this dip,” you moan.
Andrei raises an eyebrow. “I could be okay with polygamy.”
After Naxos, you take the ferry to Paros - just an hour on the boat and you’re in a completely different location. It’s amazing how efficient the ferries are and how civilized the whole process is. You get to keep your luggage the whole time and since seats are assigned on your ticket, no one fights for a seat.
Paros is a gorgeous island. Similar in size to Naxos, but more built up. Your hotel is magical - a true five star - with palm trees by the pool and perfectly manicured grounds. There are hot pink flowers everywhere and you breathe in the fresh air, feeling like a different person.
“I love this place,” you sigh, stretching out on a lounger next to the pool. Andrei toasts you with his drink, something in a coconut that he’d never normally order at home.
“Top hotel so far,” he says, tucking one hand behind his head, making his bicep pop. He’s been running in the mornings, to counterbalance the food you’ve been eating. But he’s also been so relaxed, which is something you’re glad to see. The last few years have been a lot on him - his ACL injury that had led to a shortened season when he returned followed by the deep playoff run leading to the eventual Stanley Cup. He needed a minute to unwind.
He reaches out over the distance between your chairs and wiggles his fingers at you. You reach your own hand out and let him lace your fingers together. Unfairly, he’s tanner than you are, his skin turning a nice golden brown under the Greek sun. Andrei’s thumb traces over your knuckles.
Neither of you say anything, just enjoying the company and quiet.
The beach is a two minute walk from your hotel, so in the afternoons, you make your way over there with just your towels to swim in the sea. You’re actually addicted to the Mediterranean now and have no idea how you’re going to go back to swimming in the Atlantic. There’s some cliffs around the beach and Andrei eggs you on to climb them and jump off.
You’re a chicken when it comes to stuff like that, but with Andrei encouraging you, and screaming all the way down, you jump from a decently high cliff. The adrenaline rush is unparalleled and Andrei enthusiastically responds when you jump into his arms, kissing him hungrily. With the buoyancy from the salt water helping, Andrei carries you into a secluded cove, shadowed by the cliffs you had just jumped off of. He presses you against the rocks, scraping your back, and twists his fingers in the ties of your bikini bottoms.
His fingers edge under the fabric and you squirm, wanting him to touch you. “Come on, Drei,” you urge him. “Touch me, please.”
“Anyone could swim by, zhena,” he murmurs against your neck, licking at the drying salt.
“Not if,” you gasp, letting your head fall back as Andrei licks and bites your neck. “Not if you’re fast.”
He hums against your skin, still toying with the fabric of your bottoms. Your legs are wrapped around his waist and you can feel the hard heat of his cock pressing into you. You grind down against him and he bites your shoulder in a little warning. “You like this?” He asks, slipping his index finger under your bathing suit and letting the tip of it tease at your swollen folds. The cool water laps around you, keeping your temperature down. “You want people to see you, my love? You want them to see me give you my fingers, see how many of them you can take?”
“I…yes…Andrei, please,” you whine, heels kicking against his back while you clench around the tip of his finger. “I…more… pozhaluysta.”
It’s a dirty trick, using your limited Russian, because you know he finds nothing hotter. Andrei slips two fingers inside of you and crooks them, forcing a cry from your throat. You press one hand against your lips to muffle your noises as he fucks you with his fingers, adding a third after only a few seconds. “You wanted this, my love,” he rasps, “don’t be quiet.”
“Andrei,” you whine his name, toes curling. Your hand fists in his hair and he hisses a little when you tug. His fingers are thick and rough inside of you and it doesn’t take too much longer before you’re clenching around then and coming on his hand. “Fuck,” you mutter, going boneless in his arms.
“Good girl,” Andrei praises you, kisses your shoulder. “I think it’s time for a nap.”
Your eyelids flutter and he carries you through the water back to your towels. Your legs are jelly underneath you, but you wrap yourself in your towel, pressing against his body to feel his erection press into your lower stomach. “You know,” you murmur, “there’s a hammock on the patio of our room.”
Andrei raises an eyebrow at you. “We have a good time in hammocks,” he says slowly.
Agreeing, you continue, “and the bathtub in the room is very, very big. Probably big enough for, say a 6’2” Russian and his brand new wife.”
“We should test that out,” he says, seriously, nudging you through the sand and back to the road leading to your hotel.
Turns out the tub isn’t quite big enough for the both of you and more water splashes over the sides than stays in, but you giggle your way through a bath that’s more groping than anything. The olive oil soap is a nice amenity, getting you both extra slick and slippery - which does eventually result in you banging your knee against the side of the tub, but it’s worth it when Andrei kisses the spot, working his way up your inner thigh.
After the bath, you dry each other off and roll around on the bed, making out and touching each other, but not really doing much more. It’s been a long trip and you’d like to be able to walk at the end of it. You order loukoumades - Greek doughnuts soaked in honey syrup and dusted with cinnamon - from room service and curl up on Andrei’s lap out on the patio to enjoy the warm night and the sweet treat.
Andrei feeds you a doughnut and you purposefully suck his fingers into your mouth when you take a bite. He raises an eyebrow at you and you giggle. “You know,” you say quietly, enjoying the peaceful evening, “one day, I’d like to bring our kids back here. Be the annoying parents that talk about their honeymoon and show their kids all the amazing sights and restaurants.”
“That would be nice,” Andrei replies, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Rent a villa and let them run around in the sun. We should have them learn Greek too, that way someone can translate.”
“Can you imagine?” You grin, leaning back against his chest. “Little babies running around switching between English, Russian, and Greek? They’ll be the smartest kids is Raleigh.”
“And the cutest too, probably.” He nuzzles his nose against the side of your neck. “As long as they look like you.”
Warmth floods your stomach, thinking about a little gang of Svechnikov babies. In your imagination, they look like Andrei, his warm brown eyes and that dimple. You curl closer against him, daydreaming about that future.
Your last island is Santorini and you’re actually spending the least amount of time here, just four and a half days before you fly back to Athens for an overnight stay before leaving for home again. Santorini is gorgeous, but it’s definitely the most crowded of the islands and the most touristy. The blue domes against the white washed buildings are beautiful and the sunsets are as gorgeous as promised. But, after the slower paced Naxos and Paros, you find yourself getting a little cranky with the crowds of Santorini.
“I think you need an ice cream,” Andrei says, guiding you towards one of the many ice cream shops. “You’re getting that hangry look in your eyes.”
“These people just don’t move!” You grumble, following him. “It’s so crowded and if they all stop in the middle of the path…” You throw your hands up in exasperation.
“She’ll have the kataifi,” Andrei says to the woman behind the counter, ignoring you, “and I’ll have the chocolate hazelnut.”
Your ice cream order’s been fairly standard over the past few days in Santorini - the kataifi ice cream is cinnamon-y and sweet and has chunks of the crunchy kataifi phyllo and nuts mixed it. You take the cone and happily tear into it, already feeling a little better as you cool off. Andrei takes his cone and pays, joining you against the wall of the shop. You’re busy keeping your ice cream from melting all over your hands and so when Andrei leans over and licks from the edge of your jaw to your earlobe, you’re so startled you nearly drop the cone entirely.
“Andrei!” You yelp, turning on him with wide eyes. “What the —“
He smirks at you and points at the opposite wall where a blue neon sign proclaims ‘it’s not going to lick itself.’ You blink at the sign briefly and then start giggling. “Just doing what the sign tells me,” he says innocently.
“I don’t think that’s what it means,” you murmur, flicking your gaze down to the front of his shorts.
“You can lick that later,” Andrei promises, grinning. He licks his ice cream scoop very deliberately, flattening his tongue around the scoop and swirling it. Your cheeks flush and you bump his hip with yours. He captures your hand and squeezes, tugging you out of the shop and back into the packed streets.
You wander a little more, popping into a jewelry store where you immediately spot two puppies playing and squat down to play with them. Andrei disappears for a minute, but you’re too distracted to realize he even left until he’s back, hovering over you, asking, “ready to get going?”
“Where’d you go?” You ask, giving the dogs one more pet each before standing up and taking Andrei’s hand.
He waves his other hand, “just around. Looking at souvenirs.”
“Okay,” you squint at him a little suspiciously, but don’t question it. “I think we’ve covered everyone actually, unless you want to get anything else for your parents.” The entirety of one of your carry-on suitcases is dedicated to souvenirs, and there’s spill over into the big suitcase, so you’re kind of hoping Andrei’s done with gifts.
He shakes his head, “I think I’m good.” He smirks at you, “besides, we don’t have any more luggage room, right?”
“You do listen to me!” You laugh.
“Of course,” he kisses your knuckles. “Happy wife, happy life, right?”
Your last day on Satorini is spent on the volcanic black sand beach, relaxing and fooling around in the sea. “I’m going to miss this,” you say, toes skimming the sand while you float in the deep water.
“Let’s come back next year,” Andrei suggests, tipping his face back to the sun. “Another two weeks, there’s hundreds of islands we haven’t seen.”
You find yourself getting a little emotional. “Yeah,” you whisper, emotion clogging your throat, “that would be nice. But it would just be a vacation, it wouldn’t be another honeymoon.”
“No,” Andrei floats over to you and kisses you softly, “it won’t be. But it’ll be a good first anniversary trip.” He kisses your cheek. “Or maybe a trip to celebrate a pregnancy.”
“I love you,” you whisper, wiping at your face. “This has been the best trip, Drei. Honestly. I can’t wait to take a million more.” You loop your arms around his neck and his arms come around your waist, pulling you flush against him.
“You made it the best trip,” he says, dimple popping. “There’s no one else I’d rather spend two and a half weeks island hopping with or getting lost on the way to the beach with. I wouldn’t stop whenever someone else pointed out a stray cat or dog, just you, solnyshka.”
You snort a laugh, “you’re really angling for me to lick something, aren’t you?”
“Well,” Andrei smirks, the sun glinting off of his tanned skin and his brown eyes twinkling, “I wouldn’t say no to a little licking.”
There’s a lot of licking on your last night in Santorini and you both sleep in the next morning, enjoying a lazy start to the day and getting breakfast delivered to your room so you can pack and eat on your own time. The flight back to Athens is only an hour - you spent longer going through security and waiting to board than actually in the air.
You’re only in Athens overnight before you have to leave for the airport at 11, so you make the most of it, wandering around and getting a little bit lost before having a final dinner in a romantic little taverna. Andrei passes a little jewelry box across the table to you while you wait for dessert.
“What’s this?” You trace a finger over the box.
“A present,” he smiles.
“You already gave me a pretty good present,” you hold up your left hand, flashing your engagement ring and wedding band.
He laughs a little. “I know. But this one is to remember Greece.”
You look at him, shaking your head a bit, and pop open the box to find a cross that looks exactly like his, but smaller. “Andrei,” you look back up at him, “this is - it’s just like yours.”
You know Greek and Russian Orthodox are under the same umbrella and Andrei had poked his head into a few churches, doing the cross and dropping a few euros to light candles. You’d gotten married Russian Orthodox and even though it’s your own background, your family was far enough removed from being in Russia that religion wasn’t a major aspect of your life growing up.
“I saw it the other day,” he says. “And you don’t have to wear it, but I thought it might be nice. For us to have matching crosses.” He pauses. “For yours to be a memory of the honeymoon.”
You’re halfway to tears as you’re pulling the chain from the box and clasping it around your neck. “Why are you the most thoughtful, sentimental man in the world?” You lean over the table, the cross around your neck swaying and bumping your chest, and cup his face in your hands to kiss him deeply. “I love it and I love you.”
Andrei’s cheeks are a little pink when you sit back down. He shrugs one shoulder. “I wanted you to have a little piece of me too, when I’m traveling.”
“I’m not taking it off, Drei,” you murmur, tracing your fingers over the cool metal. His own chain is just barely visible under the collar of his shirt and you eye it. “We’re clearly going to have to come back and get more for the future Svechnikov babies.”
He laughs and catches your hand, kissing your palm. “Whatever you want, zhena. Whatever you want.”
A warm breeze carries through the street and it’s the perfect night to end your honeymoon.
#andrei svechnikov fic#andrei svechnikov x reader#andrei svechnikov x you#andrei svechnikov imagine#andrei svechnikov
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