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pynkgothicka · 10 hours

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ＫｎｅｅＳｏｃｋｓＫＮＪ

Pairing - Tutor! Dark! Kim Namjoon x AFAB! Reader

Synopsis-Based off Parasite, your korean teacher leaves to go on a work study trip, and leaves you with his best friend to be a replacement teacher. Part 2 of the movies series.

Featuring - Brandon Perea (Angel From Nope)

Word Count - Around 3k

Tags and Warnings - age-gap, manipulation, murder, fingering, tutor/student relationship

Authors Note - As you can probably tell, the stories are majority very loosely based on the stories with me throwing my own twists into it all. Also Joon is a conglomerate of all the Parks (the poor family) into one character! Enjoy:3

A friendly reminder that all my works are dark fanfiction! Please if you do not like that do not read them! These depictions don't pertain to reality. This is your final warning before hitting the keep reading button!!

“So you want me to basically be your substitute?”

Namjoon eyed his friend as he ate from the bowl of ramen in front of him. One of his old high school friends, Brandon, stopped by his apartment out of the blue. And of course, Namjoon was embarrassed, the place looked like a dump.

Which is exactly what it was.

A dump.

“Yeah, listen I know you're smart. And I know you need the pay.” Brandon said taking a bite out of his ramen. He used his chopstick to point at Namjoon. “Also I trust you man.”

Namjoon groaned out leaning back into his couch. “Trust me? With what? Don't tell me you got roped into something fucked up.”Namjoon complained. Brandon had that look in his eyes, Namjoon could tell when he was being shifty.

“So maybe I've kind of got something going with the girl, she's sweet, super sheltered, like the perfect girl,” Brandon says leaning back long with Namjoon. “I plan on asking her out when I'm back okay? I just need you to be so you man. All scholarly and shit.”

Namjoon thought about it for a minute. “How's the pay?”

“Around 500 a session. Trust me her family has the money to blow. They want the best and they trust me to have good recommendations. Also, the mom is a bit of an airhead anyway.”

“Fine, you're lucky I need to make rent.”

📖

You sat in your room bored out of your mind. Your mother told you that Brandon had found someone to continue your studies while he was away. You knew your mom was probably annoying the poor man downstairs. She had a habit of talking too much.

Curiosity got the better of you as you found yourself heading downstairs to your lavish mansion kitchen. You sat on the stairs, peering through the railing.

Your new tutor was handsome, slightly built with a buzz cut. He reminded you of men you see in movies, rich CEOs who would fall for their secretaries. Or even a dangerous boxer who has a soft spot for the ballerina.

Lost in your trance, your mom spotted you. “Oh! Sweetheart come down, Mr. Kim here would like to meet you.” You curse under your breath as you stand up and walk the rest of the way downstairs. Almost tripping as your socks slipped on the hardwood floor. You catch yourself walking over to the side of the island.

Mr. Kim looked at you for a moment before smiling. “Please call me Namjoon, Mr. Kim makes me sound old.” He said extending a hand. You take it and give him a slightly firm handshake.

“She'll call you Mr.Kim, respect always remember sweetheart?” Your mom cooed passing you a bowl of pomegranate seeds. You nod towards her as she smiles. “Okay now go study, Mr. Kim is a very smart man by the sound of it. If you need anything call me upstairs.”

You were already walking upstairs with Namjoon following close behind. You led him into your bedroom and sat down at your desk. You pull out the notebook that you and Brandon used. “Sorry if my mom was annoying you, she's ditzy like that.” You mumbled going to the practice test you were doing before Brandon left last session.

Snap!

You jump at Namjoons snapping right in front of your face. “I want you to focus. From what you're mother is telling me she wants you to pass with Korean as a foreign Language for college next semester correct?” You nod at Namjoon. You focus back in on the practice test.

It was a particular problem you stared at, and it was something you couldn't figure out. You were about to circle A but you were stopped by Namjoon grabbing your wrist. “Are you certain that's the answer?” He asks leaning next to you. You shake your head, no, your breathing rising in speed as his hand holds your own in place. “Then why are you answering it?”

“Because it's the next question?” You say your voice peeking as you finish the statement. It comes out like a question and more so it comes out as you being rude to him. You shake your head looking up at him. “Sorry… I mean… it's true I just didn't want you to take it as me being rude to you.”

“Focus.” He reprimands. “Look at the question and think again.” Namjoon let's go of your wrist and you reconsider the answer. It's D. The answer is D. You circle it and look back at Namjoon expecting a response. You're welcomed with a warm smile. “Very good.”

His hand digs into the bowl of pomegranate seeds and he pops one into your mouth. You blush as you feel the tips of his fingers touch your lips and the action in general. Not even Brandon did something that bold. “T-Thank you Namjoon.”

He gives you a warm smile, showing his dimples, something you just caught. “Good, now continue answering the rest of the questions, you don't want to do bad you're first day with me do you?”

📖

Once Namjoon got his pay and started his trek home he realized something. Brandon was right, you pretty much were the perfect girl. Just from one lesson, he realized he enjoyed teaching you something he's become so familiar with.

While he was lost in thought Brandon called him and Namjoon picked it up. “Hey, how was your first class?” Namjoon didn't want to tell him that he was secretly fond of the girl that Brandon liked and that he felt something for her as well so he chose to be as bland as possible.

“It was good. We just kind of reviewed what you guys already went over before.” Namjoon said crossing the street and walking into his apartment complex. He checked the mail seeing that he had nothing.

No one usually contacted him unless it was some bill.

“That's good, is she ok? I know I kind of left on short notice.” Brandon said into the phone. Namjoon hated that he felt indifferent towards Brandon's concerns. It wasn't really like him to see his friends whining about nothing in particular. “God I must've hurt her so bad.”

“I mean if she's hurt she didn't say anything about it, I mean I guess she was nervous,” Namjoon said entering his apartment. “I mean it's nothing bad for her to not be upset. Maybe she'll ask about you later?” God, he hated giving Brandon hope.

But Brandon took it as is. “Thanks, man, I really appreciate you doing this for me. Call you later.” And before Namjoon could even wish him goodbye the phone hung up in his face.

He let out a sigh before pouring a bowl of cereal. He wished you were there for him. You wouldn't have him eating this, you'd probably want him to eat better. Namjoon caught himself thinking in that way and he caught himself. He knew this would end badly. There is no other way it could go.

📖

Namjoon had taught you for about a month now, and you couldn't stop thinking about him. Even now as he sits next to you while you study what he taught you today, you couldn't help but fantasize about him.

You sat with your head down reading over the pages in your notebook. You poked your lip out, hoping he would notice you. It was fruitless of an attempt but you at least had to try.

“Namjoon, have you ever been in love?”

He looks up at you cocking a brow. “What does this have to do with Korean?” You look away at his question, keeping your eyes glued to the notebook. Namjoon takes his thumb and tilts your eyes to look into his own. “Look up here, Answer the question.”

Your eyes look away. “It was a dumb question, I shouldn't have asked it.”

“But you did. Why?”

You let out a sigh before responding. “Well, I was just wondering if you had, you don't have to answer it, I know it's off-topic.” You blabber on, Namjoon letting your head drop.

“Well, yeah of course. I'm 29, and I of course have had a few relationships. But they always just don't get it you know?” Namjoon rests his head in his hand, elbow resting on your desk. “They didn't want to change for the sake of our relationship. I guess I just have a bad taste in women huh?” He ended with a chuckle.

“Yeah, I mean what do you like in women…? I can probably be a good judge of character for you.” You add playing it off as being nice towards him. Maybe if he told you what he liked, you could change to fit his standards. Namjoon seemed to be a perfect man, and maybe you being almost 20 could be perfect in his eyes if you did.

He turned to look at you. “Well, I like my women of course pretty. Smart, shy, well… I mean that's too much already.” He said throwing his hand up to brush it off coyly. You put a hand on his thigh, looking into his eyes as to encourage him.

“Tell me, I want to know.”

“Well, I don't think it matters really. Unless you think that you're right for me.” Namjoon said leaning down to get closer to you. “Are you baby? Are you the right person for me?”

You nodded getting closer, your lips ghosting over his own. Namjoon does the final push, connecting your lips together. His hand goes to your hair, tangling his hand into it. His tongue brushed over your teeth, pushing into your mouth. You were messy, clunky, and unsure of what you were doing. As he pulled away, his chest rose and fell. “Do you think you love me?” He finally asks. “Is that why you asked me if I had ever been in love?”

“Mhmm, you're just so… amazing and wise… I've looked at you since you showed up in the kitchen…”

“Good, I think that you're amazing, and I want to see where this goes, I think you're the right person… the one I've been looking for,” Namjoon said before connecting your lips again.

📖

From that day on, every time you had a class with Namjoon, it was really spent cuddling and enjoying your time with the older man. Laying in bed, you two would usually talk about life, normally letting Namjoon talk and praise you. Maybe it was due to the fact you usually went along with whatever he wanted to do.

Like now.

You dug your nails into his arm, his hand dug into your panties, fingering you. He quieted your moans with his lips, you sitting in front of him, toes curling as they hang off your bed. “Joon…” You whine into his mouth, trying to be as quiet as possible. “It f-feels so good…”

His fingers curled, blunt nails hitting at your walls. “Yeah? Doesn't it feel good to be loved?” He said placing kisses down your neck, sucking a hickey to join new and faded ones. He usually couldn't keep his hands off of you, no matter what, usually liking for his hands to dig into your thighs, thumbs brushing over the top of your knee-high socks. But now he wanted to give you pleasure, something he called a gift since you two were together.

You nodded as you feel your cunt gush around his thick fingers. “Please let me cum… I need it, sir.” You moan quietly into his mouth. Namjoon only liked to be called sir when messing around. He told you that it made him feel empowered and that you being there made him feel so much better than usual. You saw nothing wrong with that of course, isn't that the role of a lover?

“Do it for me, baby, all over my fingers.” And you do, as soon as he says that, you throw your head back on his shoulder. You collapse onto him, Namjoon adjusting it to where you laid on him in bed. He stuck his fingers into his mouth, sucking off your juices. You couldn't help but blush. “You taste amazing, like always.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Are you still going to be able to make it to my party? I know my parents invited you and stuff.” You ask, hand playing with your boyfriend's cheek. Of course, coming from a rich family meant you'd have large parties for your birthday. It's not like you wanted them but, they also told you they invited your tutor who just so happened to be your boyfriend.

Namjoon swatted at your fingers, chuckling a bit. “Of course, I wouldn't miss it for the world. We just won't pretend to be a thing.” He says. You nod in agreement, knowing your parent's reaction would most likely ruin the party in general.

“Yeah… okay! We should have around 30 minutes left, and I really just want to nap.” You say closing your eyes and laying down your head. Namjoons hand stroked at your head soothing you to fall asleep.

📖

The day had come for your party, and Namjoon couldn't have been more excited. He put on a brand new suit, one he brought with the money he made from his newfound job. As he arrives at the home, he spots that people have already shown up and that it's an outside party at that. Namjoon walked towards the backyard patio, your father setting up a backdrop for pictures.

“Mr, Kim, just the man I wanted to see,” Your father behind raising up to hug the man. “I'm glad you made it, hey can you head inside to grab the champagne buckets? They should be in the cellar in the basement.”

Namjoon nodded. “Yes, of course, I'll be back.” Namjoon makes his way to the back door seeing a table of women who blew kisses at them. He smiled before going inside, taking his phone out to send you a quick text.

Namjoon: Just arrived! Ur dad is already putting me to work lol

Baby🤍: Oh goddd I'll get on him about it.

Baby🤍 Still getting ready though, so just work for him a bit until I finish. Luv uuuu!!!

Namjoon chuckled at your texts as he made his way into the kitchen.

“So when were you going to tell me you started fucking her?” Namjoon put his phone down to look up, seeing no one other than Brandon. He stood at the kitchen island leaning on it, a drink in hand.

“Oh, your back? I thought you'd be gone longer.” Namjoon commented before turning to head to the basement. He wasn't going to deal with Brandon and ruin his girlfriend's day.

That thought was before Brandon shoved Namjoon into a wall. Brandon held Namjoons shirt. “Don't play dumb with me, I went to see her. I was gonna gift her a letter and she said she already had a boyfriend. And I know the only dude she would see constantly was you. How could you? I asked you to do one thing and you couldn't even do that?!” Brandon said, getting in Namjoons face. He whinced, Brandon's forearm resting on Namjoons neck pushing down. There was no way he was going to die this way, not from Brandon's rage.

Namjoon pushed him off, then shoved him down the basement stairs. Namjoon stood there as he watched Brandon fall, head hitting the wood. He waited until the last thud, Namjoon slowly walking downstairs to see what he had just done. Once he reaches the bottom, Namjoon smiles, the sick sight of Brandon writhing on the ground groaning. A puddle of blood formed around him, the impact from hitting the concrete probably giving him a concussion.

The bottom of Namjoons shoes clicked as he made his way to the cellar. He took the metal branding tool used to mark the barrels. The sound of metal shrieked as he dragged it towards Brandon's beat-up corpse. “I'm sorry I have to do this, but you're in my way now. And we can't have that now can we?” Namjoon taunted raising the iron. Brandon's eyes opened slightly as he saw the iron come down on him.

Namjoon felt tears pour down his cheeks as he began to beat Brandon in.He coughed up blood, and Namjoon didn't stop beating Brandon until he was certain he was dead. Once he came to that conclusion he dropped the iron. "Why did you make me do that huh?!" Namjoon yelled at no one. "You ruin everything, god, im happy you're fucking gone."

Namjoon claimed himself wiping his eyes of tears. He got up and grabbed the champagne buckets. He looked back before heading out of the basement, locking the door. He lets out a sigh before leaving, not looking back. He had bigger plans now, and Brandon wasn't in them.

He couldn't be in them.

Namjoons eyes trailed over your form, stopping at your socks as you laughed with your family. Outside the patio, you see Namjoon carrying the ice buckets and wave him over. He smiles at you before signing and returning to his girlfriend who he plans to keep forever.

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sweetestofchaos · 3 days

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Blackthorn Ch 16 | M.YG

A Shift in the Tide - Safe within the palace walls once more, the young royals must deal with an unseen turn of events.

a/n: thank you a million times again and again for @sailoryooons for always taking time out of her busy life to beta this and stroll through my endless thoughts with me. Sometimes, I just need a little hand holding to reach the end lol

a/n 2: Character asks and the taglist for Blackthorn are always open! Minors do NOT interact with my work, please and thank you. Also, this is cross posted on ao3, under the same username sweetestofchaos.

taglist: @thickemadame @loisje123

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“Hoseok, please. I do not have the patience for your word games. What has happened in my absence? Why has mother requested an audience at such an hour?”

Hoseok raised to his feet and stared at his friend, his face pinched as the words left his lips in a rattled croak. “T-The Emperor… he is ill.”

In the Princess’ chambers, Ceyeh sat, submerged in the heated waters scented with lavender, chamomile and patchouli. A heavy steam fogged the air, dampening Hyejin and Wheein as they carefully washed the dirt, grime and blood from the Princess’ body. The water was murky, muddled by the filth that was scrubbed off the Princess. Hyejin took her time as she slowly swiped over the tiny cuts that were no more than faint marks that would fade within a few days. Wheein focused on washing the Princess’ hair, taking care to rub a cleansing soap in small sections.

Little by little, the feathers that adorned the Princess’ body started to fall away, gliding on the air smoothly before they touched the water’s surface and melted into nothing. The Princess’ eyes were closed, her lids motionless as Ceyeh allowed for the night's events to break down in her mind. Princess Keena was just below the surface, begging to see the young Prince, but Ceyeh refused. Her mind was torn, at war with a heart that was not truly hers.

Sharpened nails receded and rounded out to a soft tip and the Princess’ body started to sink deeper into the water. Wheein struggled to keep the Princess afloat, worried that she would tug too harshly on the braids.

“We should move her,” Wheein warned. “Ceyeh is giving up her control.”

Hyejin took notice of the Princess’ changing body and agreed. Together, the maids pulled the Princess to the steps of the heated water and placed her in the corner so that the Princess could not move. The two spirits fought for control and Ceyeh relented once the Princess assured her that she would handle the backlash of the night’s events with grace.

Brown eyes fluttered open and Hyejin gasped, “Princess?!”

Hyejin almost tumbled into the water from how quickly she threw her arms around the Princess’ shoulders. Princess Keena winced, her whole body ached and her throat felt raw. She tried to push at Hyejin’s arms but it felt like she was moving through molasses. Feeling the movement of the Princess, Hyejin jerked away with a deep blush on her face.

“Forgive me, Princess,” Hyejin quickly apologized and the Princess nodded her head slowly as more and more of her senses started to come back.

“Are you okay? Is there any pain? Any discomfort?” Wheein questioned as she noticed the Princess’ silence and glassy eyes. Wheein’s words were muffled, wrapped in cotton and submerged in water.

Princess Keena blinked a few times as she tried to clear her blurred vision. The rushing of blood behind her ears started to wane and her heart returned to a relaxed beat.

“E-Everything hurts.”

Wheein rose to her feet and rushed out the wash room while Hyejin continued to carefully help the Princess get comfortable in the water.

Tears streamed down Byulyi’s face as she laid out a new outfit for the Princess to wear while Aga sat in the sitting room with his arms crossed over his chest tightly. Aga jumped to his feet when Wheein ran over to him, her robes soaked with water and smelling sweetly.

“The P-Princess is awake.”

“She has regained control?”

Wheein nodded her head and Aga sighed in relief before he raised an eyebrow. He knew that Wheein had more to say. “She is in pain-”

“Hyungwon will be here once he is finished with the Prince. Keep her as comfortable as you can for now. Wonho and Jooheon know to let him in with no questions.”

As Aga spoke, the main doors opened and Hyungwon rushed in. His robes were crinkled and his usually neat hair was wild, and tossed this way and that as if he had run his hands through it many times. Aga and Wheein both bowed their heads before Wheein grabbed Hyungwon’s medical basket out of the air and motioned for him to follow her.

“The Princess has just regained control. Speak slowly so that she can read your lips if her response time seems delayed,” Aga explained and Hyungwon nodded his head before he disappeared into the washroom.

Aga’s shoulders slumped and he fell back onto the couch, his head held in his hands as relief flooded his system. The Princess was awake and had full control of herself; he did not know the extent of her injuries but he would know soon enough. Aga inhaled deeply, his chest expanded and held his breath for a moment. As he exhaled, Aga lifted his head and sat up right with his elbows resting on his knees. He would wait for Hyungwon’s words and go from there. He saw no point in lamenting over the unknown. He would get to the bottom of tonight's attack and punish all those who had part.

Upon Hyungwon’s arrival, the Princess was dressed in a white satin robe with yellow and orange watercolor flowers along the lower skirt. Princess Keena sat out of the water, her feet still submerged up to her knees as she slowly kicked her feet back and forth.

Hyungwon bowed deeply upon seeing the Princess and she bowed her head with a tired smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“I am pleased to see you awake, your Highness.”

“Thank you for arriving at such haste, Hyungwon.”

Hyungwon kneeled beside the Princess and Wheein set the basket of medical supplies down next to him. Hyungwon began his exam under the careful watch of the Princess maids and Princess Keena answered all his questions to the best of her ability. Her memory of the night was fully intact, there were no holes in her story. She knew of the Prince’s injury and spoke of it to which Hyungwon steered the conversation to another topic.

“There seems to be no permanent damage. Your wounds will heal in time and there will be no scarring from the attack.”

The handmaids were pleased by the news and Hyungwon continued. “Your muscles are in pain due to overuse, I was informed that Ceyeh was in control and you were shifted for quite some time.”

“I have shifted before and never felt such pain.”

“You were not pushed to such levels of self prevention. It was life or death, Princess. Ceyeh and Agust protected both you and his Highness just sort of their true selves.”

“And Yoongi? How is my Prince?”

The familiarity and desperation in her words made Hyungwon freeze. It was not Hyungwon’s place to tell the Princess of Prince Yoongi’s state of wellbeing and yet his body moved on its own accord. He grabbed hold of the Princess’ hands and held them gently as he examined her fingers and palms for wounds he knew were not there.

“His Highness was treated by my own hands and will make a speedy recovery in his own time.”

Hyungwon patted the Princess’ hands and gave them a tight squeeze.

“My advice would be to stay by his side in these trying times. Though he is alive…” Hyungwon’s voice trailed off as he thought back to the Prince’s injured eye. Hyungwon was sure that the Prince had lost the vision of his right eye but without a proper exam, it was just speculation.

“Hyungwon?” The Princess’ voice was soft yet firm as she squeezed his hands.

“His Highness will need you to find his peace; guide him well.”

Hyungwon spoke for the last time and bowed deeply before he departed, leaving behind soothing creams to ease the fatigue of the Princess’ muscles and a herbal tea mixture for her mind. He had the forethought to ward off possible night terrors to give the Princess the utmost peace.

Wheein and Hyejin smoothed the soothing balm onto the Princess’ skin and placed a new robe, black with gold and pink tiger lilies along the back, on her before they led her to her chambers. Byulyi’s eyes were red and puffy from crying and when she saw the Princess she had started to cry again. Princess Keena comforted the maid and encouraged her to help her dress to take her mind off what happened.

Byulyi dressed the Princess in an olive green satin sleep dress that covered her shoulders halfway and flowed down into a rounded neckline with beige stitching that spelled out an ancient prayer for sweet dreams and restful sleep. The sleep dress reached all the way down, almost covering her feet and was the same length all around. It made the Princess smile to wear the sleep dress, it was from her homeland and Byulyi knew she would seek that comfort.

Matching green slippers were placed on her feet and the maids dried the Princess’ hair with cemetan stones before they tucked the braids into a neat bun on top of the Princess’ head. A green wrap with beige and taupe dahlias was carefully wrapped around the bun and twisted to make a beautiful headpiece. Byulyi did not place any meori-kkoji in the wrap since Princess Keena requested they be left out. The nighttime look was simple yet elegant, a style fit for a Queen to be.

“Is Aga waiting for me?” Princess Keena yawned behind her hand as the three maids nodded their heads and she stood from the seat in front of her vanity. She headed out to the sitting room with sure steps, her head held high as her eyes fell onto Aga.

Upon hearing the footfalls of the Princess, Aga rose to his feet and placed his fist over his heart as the Princess came into view. Yellow eyes searched for any hint of pain, there were small scratches that wouldn’t leave any marks on the Princess’ face but aside from that Aga saw nothing. His chest slowly loosened as air flowed into his lungs, it was easier to breathe and the Princess smiled.

“Forgive me, Aga. It was foolish to roam the town in secret.”

Aga felt his ire as it sat heavy on his tongue, it poisoned his heart but he knew from the regret in the Princess’ eyes that she had meant her words. Aga’s shoulders slumped as he fell to his knees and caught himself on the edge of the couch with a loud sigh.

“Your Father would have my head if anything were to ever happen to you on my watch.”

“Agust and Ceyeh protected me.”

“They should not have had to come out at all, Princess.”

Aga’s voice was firm as he grunted his words and Princess Keena nodded her head in agreement. She slowly sat beside Aga and carefully placed her hands over top of his silently. Aga said nothing as he turned his wrists, his palms now facing upward as he wrapped his fingers around the Princess’ much smaller hands.

“I am glad you are safe but our enemies wish for your downfall. Do not be so foolish again.”

“You have my word, Aga. I swear it to those before us.”

Aga squeezed the Princess’ hands tightly just once before he released her and stood to his full height. He offered a hand to help her up and the Princess’ brows pulled together in a silent question.

“Come. Her Royal Majesty has requested your presence.”

“At this hour…does she know of our attack?”

Aga shook his head and cleared his throat before he spoke up, “This pertains to a different matter; one of high priority. I know you must be tired-”

The Princess waved off Aga’s words and stood with his help as she placed her hand in his, “Nonsense, Aga. Lead the way.”

The halls leading to the Emperor’s chambers were lined with guards who bowed their heads low at the sight of the Princess. Aga walked with his head held high, while Mingi and Chan guarded the rear with the Princess in the center. Both guards regarded the Princess with stony faces while their eyes quivered in worry. Princess Kenna offered a silent apology for causing such a panic in the palace with a subtle bow of her head and it was accepted without any words needed.

The footfalls of the Princess echoed softly in the hall, her green slippers peaked out from underneath her skirt with each step. She kept her own head raised high, her face impassive as she looked ahead and focused on the middle of Aga’s shoulders. Movement from in front caught the Princess’ attention and she was surprised to see Hoseok standing outside of the Emperor's rooms.

Hoseok bowed his head and gave a small acknowledgement to Aga and the others before he offered a relieved smile to the Princess. “I am pleased to see you in good health, Princess.”

“Forgive me for worrying you needlessly, Hoseok.”

Hoseok nodded his head with a tight smile and motioned to the door that led into the Emperor’s chambers. “They are waiting for you, Princess.”

The Princess looked to Aga for clarification as to what Hoseok meant by they but Aga simply ignored the silent question and moved towards the guards at the door. “Princess Keena is here upon Her Royal Highness’ request for an audience.”

As the guards opened the doors, Princess Keena felt her heart start to beat quickly in her chest. The air was heavy. Thick with the sharp scent of medical herbs and sickness. The Princess willed her legs to move and slowly entered the Emperor’s chambers. The doors closed behind her and she jumped at the thud that rang out, announcing her presence. The Emperor’s sitting room was beautiful and warm. Brown, red and gold were illuminated in the soft glow of multiple sunstones hidden within burgundy paper lanterns and sconces that sat on the walls.

There were a few servants that sat on the floor, knees bents underneath them as they waited to be called upon. They kept their heads bowed in a show of respect to the Princess and she quietly followed a clear path to the Emperor’s bedchambers. She walked through two large moon doors that opened into a wide office and dining room before she came before a set of large dark wooden doors. There was a hand carved dragon soaring in the sky, painted in gold with red rubies for eyes that acted as the handles of the door.

The Princess wasn’t sure what she would find behind the closed doors but she forced herself to push them open. The Empress was waiting and she didn’t want to worry her any longer. Sage, basil, ginger and something bitter like rotten grapefruit and copper assaulted the Princess’ nose and her lips pinched tightly into a thin line. She knew the scent all too well and carefully stepped into the room.

The room was split into two sections separated by two large wooden partitions with depictions of a mountain and sky painted on the hanji paper. They were cut into alternating waves so, where one was tall the other was shorter to create the illusion of multiple mountains. It was beautiful and beyond them, curtains of translucent white hung from the ceiling in soft layers with gleaming golds and reds in between. The wooden floor was dark and glossy, covered by an elegant red area rug trimmed in golden thread and tassels.

As the Princess walked farther into the room, she heard voices that spoke too softly to hear clearly. She pushed forward and soon came before the bed of the Emperor, it was enormous, even by royal standards. A circular futon with a thick mattress covered in thin blankets of puce and burgundy. Gold pillows both round and long with white and black embroidery, littered the space; in the center lay Emperor Chungho. His usually pale skin had a grey hue to it, his copper eyes were hazy and his signature updo was undone. His black hair hung low past his shoulders and just brushed the bedding. Gone were the flashy robes, in their place an ice white robe with wide sleeves and shimmering gold threading covered the Emperor's body.

Empress Eunkyung sat at his bedside, her colorful robes replaced with a pale cream cross collar blouse with a three inch brocade collar that disappeared into a matching pleated skirt with green, blue and tan colors that created an ocean scene. A single cream belt wrapped around her waist, thin and shiny that stood out against the simple fabric. She wore a celadon robe over top with white and gold dragons reaching for one another on the sleeves. Her blond hair was pulled into a low bun that sat at the back of her neck and some strands framed her face, hiding her swollen eyes from view.

Across from her, the Prince sat motionless. His head was hung low with his hair falling in his face as a curtain, hidden from all. His robes were black with gold stitching, a stark contrast to the brighter tones within the room and the Princess thought that his attire matched the scents in the air. She stared at the Prince for a moment longer, noticed the way his hands were clapped together on the bed, his fingers locked tightly around his father’s hand, knuckles cut and slightly red.

“Sit down, dear girl.”

The Emperor’s voice pulled the Princess’ eyes back onto himself and she was meant with the kindest of tired smiles. Empress Eunkyung patted the seat beside her and as the Princess moved to sit, she felt the Prince’s eyes on her. The Empress pulled Princess Keena close the moment she sat down and hugged her tightly. Sure hands petted down her hair and smoothed over her back as the Empress rocked from side to side.

“Never do that again!” She scolded, tears heavy in her voice. “Never…never do that again.”

Princess Keena felt tears burn her eyes, how long had it been since she was held in such a manner? The Prince’s embrace was warmth and strong, a fortress that kept her heart safe but here in the Empress’ arms…the Princess’ heartache for the touch of her own mother.

“Dearheart, you are crushing the poor girl.”

Empress Min slowly loosened her arms around the Princess and pulled back to get a good look at her face. “You are unharmed, child?”

Princess Keena nodded her head, “I am unharmed-” her eyes flickered over to the Prince and she felt her blood freeze at the sight of white bandages on his right eye.

The Prince felt her gaze and when he raised his head to meet her stare, his left eye was bloodshot and puffy. There was a twitch that pulled at the corner of his lips and in the blink of an eye, the Princess was in his arms. The young royals clung to each other, the Prince holding the Princess tightly in his arms as his tears soaked the fabric around her chest. Soft hands smoothed through his short blond hair and Princess Keena pressed a million kisses to the crown of his head.

They were on top of each other, the Princess held firmly in the Prince’s lap - a sight that was forbidden outside of their chambers. Empress Min smiled at the sight and the Emperor felt his own lips pull into a wide grin. Young love; it reminded them both of happier times. Princess Keena cupped the Prince’s face in her hands gently and forced him upward so that she could see his face up close. The bandages around his right eye were damp with his tears but the moisture seemingly disappeared little by little. The wraps were made from danbannite cloth, a high grade cotton material that is infused with danbannite dust, a native stone to the south that was found to absorb moisture quickly.

“Your eye-”

“A flesh wound. Only a minor inconvenience for now.”

The Prince easily lied to spare the Princess’ feelings and he leaned in, pressing their foreheads together. Their noses and lips were so close yet so far apart.

“Forgive me, my gem? It was foolish-”

Princess Keena placed a finger against the Prince’s lips and shook her head, “Hush now, my Prince. None of that. It was no one’s fault.”

Prince Yoongi sighed against the finger on his lips and kissed it softly, “I put your life in danger.”

“That is the curse of royal blood.”

From the bed, Emperor Min cleared his throat and the young royals quickly pulled apart. The Princess moved to stand but Prince Yoongi tightened his hold around her waist and soaked in her warmth. Seated in the Prince’s lap sideways before the Prince’s parents, Princess Keena’s face heated quickly. Empress Min reached for her husband’s hand and squeezed it lightly before she spoke.

“We are disappointed in your actions tonight. The situation could have been a lot worse had not your animal spirits taken over to protect you both.” Her warm eyes were a little harsher than normal as she spoke but the fire was dim, subdued in a way that the young couple had never seen before.

“As we sit on the throne before our people, we have a duty to uphold,” Empress Min continued to speak. “We are the strength of our people and they look to us for guidance in uncertain times…”

Emperor Min sat up a little more in his bed and held his head high as he took over the conversation. He studied his son and his soon-to-be daughter with dark eyes. The skin around his jaw was taut and pale. There was a sickness behind his brave face and the Princess felt as the Prince’s blunt nails dug into the fabric of her robe.

“As Emperor, it is my duty to the people to see that they are always taken care of and safe. It is to ensure our empire remains an unmoving force and beacon of hope.” He looked into his son’s eyes and melted just a little at the fondness he felt as memories of the past flashed in his mind. His throat felt dry and as he inhaled, a wet gurgle came from deep within his chest before he covered his mouth and fell into a coughing fit.

Empress Min rubbed the back of the Emperor's free hand soothingly and the Princess quickly reached beside her to the water basin that sat next to the bed and ladled a cup of water. The Prince remained silent as he watched his father, his pillar of strength and stability come back to himself as he sipped at his water and breathed slowly.

Emperor Min cleared his throat and sighed, “The sun is setting and my time within its warmth is coming to an end.”

Yoongi had known the moment he smelled his father, death was an unmistakable stench and it lingered in the air with a thick haze of blood. Likewise, the Princess had guessed that the Emperor was sick but to assume he was dying, she had forbidden the thought. The Prince’s warmth pressed against her body felt hotter, and blunt nails had started to sharpen in distress. Princess Keena placed her hands over top of the Prince’s and pulled them to rest against the flat her stomach.

“Is there no cure for your ailment?” Yoongi questioned, his eyes wide as he stared at his father.

Emperor Min shook his head slowly and licked his lips, “There is not but Hyungwon has assured me that he will be able to make my time left-”

“Have we reached out to a neighboring land? There are great doctors and magic in the treetop village just-”

“Yoongi-”

“No,” Yoongi’s voice was shaken, grumbled with unshed tears as he clung to the Princess. “Father, we have to tr-”

“Enough!”

Emperor Min’s voice echoed throughout the room, his eyes were molten brown as he stared at his son. The vein in his temple ticked harshly in time with his heart and he looked tired. The Prince’s vision blurred as he watched the fight leave his father’s body and his chest started to ache.

“Hyungwon has given us a timeframe, it isn’t exact but it is enough to prepare.” Empress Min smiled softly at her husband as she spoke and turned her attention to the young royals across from her. “Before Chungho leaves us, we will host your coronation and you will take your rightful place upon the throne.”

“Mother-”

“It is my wish, Yoongi. I want to see you both on the throne before I leave this world.”

“Father…”

Emperor Min’s nose started to itch and he pinched it between his thumb and index finger before he sniffled and cleared his throat. “This is my last gift to you, will you accept it?”

The Emperor's words hung heavy in the air, hope and desperation intertwined so tightly that it was hard to refuse. The Prince stared at his father for a long while in silence before he inhaled silently and rested his forehead against the Princess’ shoulder blade, his face now hidden. Tears fell from his left eye and the Princess felt a bittersweet sorrow seep into her skin.

The Prince held her tightly and she stroked the length of his fingers back and forth with the tips of her own. It was a silent comfort, the only thing she could offer the Prince to show her support. If he agreed to take the throne, she would stand by his side and face whatever was to come their way.

“My son, I know this is an unfair request. You may feel unfit to rule at such an age but you have surrounded yourself with fine council. You will have the support of the Queen Dowager, your Queen Mother. Agust will guide you well enough in times of uncertainty. It is in a dragon’s nature to live a life of splendor and power.”

Emperor Min spoke with such convection that no one argued against his words. The Emperor was dying and in his place, his only heir, Prince Yoongi had to stand. The Prince inhaled a shaky breath and tried to clear the tears from his throat before he rapidly blinked away any unshed tears. He lifted his face and stared at his parents from over the Princess’ shoulder. They looked so much older than he remembered. There were fine lines and wisps of grey, their eyes weren’t as bright. The Prince knew what he had to do and with a clear conscience he tightened his hold on the Princess and nodded his head.

“As you wish, Father. I will lead this kingdom proudly in your place. To the ancient dragons who came before and watch over us, I swear it.”

“Thank you, Yoongi.”

Empress Min looked pleased and offered a tender smile to the young royals before she pressed her lips into a tight line. She shared a silent look with her husband and spoke up. “In light of tonight’s events there must be an investigation. All those who are found guilty in aiding your excursion outside of the palace walls will be punished.”

“Your Majesty-”

Empress Min’s eyes flashed gold as the Princess tried to interrupt her. “There is no room for such blanket disregard for your status. Errors such as tonight, through no fault of your own, must be handled properly. There is an informant within the walls and we will find them.”

Princess Keena’s eyes widen at the news of an informant and she sinks into the Prince’s arms. She knows her attendants well, they would never betray her or the Prince. They were attacked on a whim, it wasn’t planned. Even while wearing basic garb, the Princess stood out because of her skin tone and accent. It was clear to anyone that she was from a foreign land.

“The orders have already been issued. Princess, your handmaids and guards will be held in the cells until they can be questioned. If they are found guilty, they will be put to death for treason.”

The Princess’ body stiffened at those words but she forced herself to ask the only question on her mind. “And if they are innocent?”

Empress Min stared at the Princess and took in the rigidness of her back and the way her nails seemed to bite into the Prince’s wrists. The young royal was scared and though it was cruel, the Empress thought to herself that it was a needed emotion as she spoke clearly, “No one is innocent in this ordeal, Princess. Your safety as well as the Prince’s was put at risk. For their negligence the lot of them will be whipped and flogged.”

Soon after, the Prince and Princess emerged from the Emperor’s chambers, arm in arm. The Prince’s face was puffy and the Princess’ eyes were tinted red. Hoseok, Aga and the rest of the Princess’ guards were not in sight. New guards that she didn’t know the names of, stood before her and the Princess pressed herself closer into the Prince’s side.

The new guards didn’t point out how pitiful the royals looked and followed them back towards their chambers. Princess Keena’s hand slipped into the Prince’s as they came to her door and the Prince laced their fingers together before they walked right past the door. New guards stood out front of his chambers and he led the Princess inside.

“You still keep your post no farther than here,” the Prince growled to the new guards as three of them followed into his room. They moved about the chambers as a whole and checked for any sign of a threat before they allowed the Prince to take the Princess away to his bed. Prince Yoongi slammed the doors shut, the bang loud and hard enough to rattle the walls before he turned to the Princess and watched her fall apart silently.

The Princess had her arms wrapped around herself, her head ducked and she sat on the edge of the bed with her legs pressed so tightly together. The Prince ran a hand through his hair and licked his lips. He pulled his thumb to his lips and started to gnaw at the nail bed as he thought of Hoseok being whipped for something he had no part of. He thought of Aga who had only stayed behind in the Min Empire to teach their soldiers and protect the Princess. It didn’t sit well with the Prince, none of them deserved to be hurt for his immature actions. He should have thought more in advance. He should have paid heed to the consequences of his actions.

“Y-Yoongi….”

The Prince’s mind shut off and he rushed to the Princess. He dropped to his knees before her, the pain a minor afterthought as the plush rug gave way to his weight. He cupped her hands in his and pressed his lips to her fingertips.

Her tears splashed against the fabric of her robe and the Prince shook his head. “No, no, my gem. No more tears. Hush now, my gem. Please?”

The Prince’s words were spoken with a soft urgency that flooded the Princess’ mind and suffocated her endless thoughts. Her body shook with heavy soul clenching sobs and Yoongi crawled onto the bed. He pulled her into his arms and laid with the Princess in his arms as she cried for her friends.

“Forgive me. I-It was foolish of me to take you outside of the walls. I-I…”

The Prince didn’t know what to say as his own eyes burned with tears. Everyone would be hurt because of him and here he was holding the one person he never meant to hurt the most. Prince Yoongi vaguely recalled a conversation he had with Hoseok, Namjoon and Seokjin about the possibility of a spy within the walls but it was one he dismissed. Now as he held the Princess he wondered if he should have taken the conversation more seriously. His ignorance and pride had cost him the Princess’ happiness and the blood of those closest to them both. The Prince would spend the rest of his life making up for his wrongdoings, to the ancient dragons who came before and watch over them, he swore it.

#yoongi fic #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #daechwita!yoongi #dragon!yoongi #bts fantasy au #fic: blackthorn ch 16 #soc yoongi

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dipndotz · 4 months

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I HAVENT POSTED IN AGES sorry erm heres some recent doodles mother 3 + stardew valley

#big fan of dot eyes recently #mother 3 #lucas #claus #duster #stardew valley #stardew valley sam #featuring my smelly farmer #EEEYUCK!#mother series always comes back to take over my mind

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lewisvinga · 4 months

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chemtrails over the country club | max verstappen x fem! reader

summary; nobody’s son and nobody’s daughter finally find peace with each other after the toughness of their childhood.

warnings; mentions of abusive parents, drinking, yelling

note; i play this song 10x a day tbh

word count; 953

taglist; @namgification

‘born to die’ series masterlist

f1 masterlist !

It was no secret that Max Verstappen didn’t have a normal childhood.

On top of spending his childhood karting, his father was tough. He often never let young Max have fun or play football on Sundays, young Max had to spend all his time racing no matter the conditions.

He was a ticking time bomb. If he didn’t win a race, people made sure to steer clear of him. He had a short temper.

13 year old Max felt his heart stop for a second as he realized he finished 4th. Not even on the podium. He could already see the angry face of his father and his loud voice as he made its way out of the kart.

His fathers voice sounded like a snake hissing. It intimidated young Max. His father kept a tight grip on his shoulder that he was sure would bruise. He glances up at his father for him to say something, anything.

But all 13 year old Max received was a few words that broke his heart. “You’re not my son. You’re not a Verstappen with that 4th.”

It was no secret that Max earned the nickname ‘Mad Max’ as a result from his childhood. With the way his face turns red and the curses slips from his mouth, nobody wanted to be around when he’s angry.

So it was a shocker when people found out who he was dating. A walking ball of sunshine dressed in pink bows and white lace, y/n was the only one to tame ‘Mad Max’. With her, Max didn’t seem to have to worry about disappointing her. She was always proud of him and she made sure he knew.

However, Y/n wasn’t always the ball of sunshine. Just like Max, she grew up with a toxic parent but it was her mother.

Being the oldest of 3, it meant it was up to her to take care of her siblings meanwhile her mother disappeared on Fridays just to come back black out drunk on Sunday nights. Having her childhood stripped from her made her into the bubbly person she was. Yet, her mother was still strict with her during her studies. Anything else but an A+ meant failure.

Y/n felt herself shake from fear as she walked down the sidewalk after stepping off the bus. In her backpack was a history exam with the letter B written in red. Her younger brother and sister ran in front of her with wide smiles while retelling their day in school.

Y/n’s eyes widened as she saw her mother standing at the front door. She knew that she had to give her the exam. Her siblings ran inside to their rooms to play with their toys while she stayed by the front door. With shaking hands, she pulls out the exam for her mother.

She could already smell the alcohol from her mother's mouth as she let out a deep sigh. “You’re not my daughter. My daughter wouldn’t cause me such disappointment.”

Their bond of having a tough childhood was what brought them together. They often spent nights sharing stories and relating to each other's experiences. With Max, she was able to let loose and enjoy herself.

There were moments when their past still affected them, much like during a snow day.

Y/n and Max were wearing big coats, tough boots, warm gloves, and everything else needed for a snow day. They sat on the steps of the front porch of the local country club they were a part of, watching the kids of other members laugh and play, something neither got to do.

“Max, let’s go take a walk around.” She suggested since it was the closest to being able to play in the snow in her mind.

The Dutch happily agreed and started ranting her about something as they made their way down the driveway. Y/n kept focusing on him and the crunch of the snow beneath her black boots. A small smile crept up her lips as she noticed her boyfriend was still distracted. She pauses for a second and he continues to walk and rant.

“And then, I said-“ Max pauses, noticing the lack of Y/n presence. “Liefje?” He questions and turns around to face her. Suddenly, his cheek was met with something cold.

Y/n lets out a gasp. “That was supposed to hit your back!” She exclaims with wide eyes and a frown. “I’m sorry! I meant to hit your back then you-“ She was so distracted with rambling, that she didn’t notice him pack some snow into a ball.

Mid-ramble, she felt the ball hit her scarf-covered neck. Her previous frown quickly turned into a smile. Immediately both of them started to create snowballs and throw them at each other.

She suddenly sees him charging towards her. She lets out a squeal as she runs away. She ran around the snowy fields, not caring if the other adults were staring at them due to their childish behavior.

Suddenly, Max jumps in front of her and causes both of them to fall to the ground. She pushes him off of herself and he rolls to the side. They were both lying on their backs, taking deep breaths between laughter.

“Max, look,” Y/n says, pointing at a white line in the sky that was led by a small dot. It was a chemtrail, signifying that there was a plane. “Surprised people are traveling now.”

“Yeah, that’s ’cause it’s now snowing anymore.” He explains, keeping his eye on the white line.

They fell into a comfortable silence as they lay in the pillowy white snow. They were once nobody’s son and nobody’s daughter. But now, Max and Y/n found the comfort they wanted in their lives as they lay in the snow, watching the chemtrails over the country club.

#formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula one imagines #formula one scenarios #f1 scenario #formula one imagine #f1 scenarios #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen scenario #max verstappen imagine

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deunmiu-dessie · 1 month

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ⅸ▬ ⁽ 𝑔𝑜𝒷𝓁𝒾𝓃𝓈 ⁾

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ♡︎ : ₂˖₇ₖ ˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ♡︎ : unedited, short, gangbang (??), NSFW, explicit content, teratophilia, goblin/human, unprotected sex, creampie, overstimulation, dubcon, rape/noncon elements, sloppy writing, rushed.

૮ ˙Ⱉ˙ ა ʳᵃʷʳ ⁿᵒᵗᵉˢ : this is literally the shortest one-shot in the entire monster fucker series of mine, and that's because it's rushed. i didn't feel like adding plot at all either. but hey, if it got my coochie wet, it should get your coochie wet. ( feeding ya'll so you guys don't starve waiting on the dragon one-shot )

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ♡︎: after the death of your brother, it's now your sole duty to provide for you and your mom--- but the woods can be a very scary place.

꒰male!goblins₊⊹ afab!reader꒱

"𝑀other! I'm leaving! "

Silence draped itself over the house, as if time itself had come to a halt. Your mother's voice remained absent, and the absence of anyone bidding you farewell left you with a heavy heart. A gentle sigh escaped your lips and with a tender touch, you closed the weathered wooden door, shouldering the weight of the knapsack upon your back. As your eyes met the foreboding darkness that veiled the forest, a disconcerting feeling settled within the depths of your chest.

In the absence of your brother, who had always been the pillar of support for both of you, you found yourself embracing the role of a caretaker. Your mother, overwhelmed with grief, was unable to fulfill the basic necessities of sustenance and safety. She remained motionless on the bed, her tears flowing ceaselessly, as the days and nights blended together. It was now your turn to rise above the despair and take charge, to bring solace and stability.

With a firm grip on the handle of your short dagger, you fortified your nerves and ventured into the gloomy forest, your knife clenched tightly in a state of restless eagerness. Although the weight of your backpack was as light as a feather, it bore down upon you like an immense burden. Swiftly pivoting, you remained on high alert, ensuring your guard was steadfastly upheld.

Into the heart of the sprawling forest you ventured, your footsteps dancing upon the moss-covered ground, carrying you further away from the gentle glow that had guided your way. The once comforting sense of security dissipated like morning mist, leaving you engulfed in an eerie darkness. The comforting sense of security that had embraced you earlier now vanished into thin air.

The path you had treaded upon vanished, leaving no trace of retreat, yet your determination remained unwavering. You pressed on, driven by the desire to reach the berries nestled amidst the dense foliage, and then eventually find your way back home.

As you ventured deeper into the woods, your brother's words echoed in your mind like a haunting melody. He warned you about the goblins, elusive creatures that supposedly roamed the shadows, waiting for unsuspecting intruders to cross into their domain. Despite the ominous tales, he assured you that they were harmless. The image of a goblin, with its peculiar shade of green and diminutive stature, danced in your imagination. How strange it was to think that such creatures existed in the same world as you, yet remained hidden from your sight.

Ever watchful, your gaze remained fixated upon the intricate engravings adorning the tree trunks. A circular insignia defiantly marked with a decisive strike, served as your guiding beacon. Hopeful, you pressed on, faithfully tracing the trail laid before you.

As the gentle breeze whispered through the foliage, a symphony of rustling leaves enveloped the air. Time seemed to slow down as you cautiously pivoted toward the bush, your trembling hands betraying your anxious state. A surge of adrenaline coursed through your veins, igniting your nerves like a blazing inferno.

Suddenly, a deep growl pierced the tranquility, resonating through the very core of your being. Despite the weapon clutched tightly in your grasp, an inexplicable terror seized your heart, threatening to consume your every thought. In an instant, instinct took over, propelling you to turn swiftly and flee, your nimble form weaving through the dense forest, effortlessly evading the entangling vines and treacherous rocks that dared to impede your escape.

You're unsure of how long you've been running but the searing pain in your lungs prompted you to slow your pace, seeking refuge by leaning against a sturdy tree. Your hand brushed against a peculiar marking, distinct from the familiar circle with a slash. You look up quickly, this time, an imposing 'X' catches your eye, accompanied by a haunting message etched jaggedly below: 'go back'. A shiver runs down your spine as the unsettling awareness of being observed, hunted even, envelopes you.

In a moment of desperation, you tightly shut your eyes, as if trying to shield yourself from the malevolent forces that surrounded you and pray. Whispers of wicked laughter dance through the air, reverberating within the depths of the expansive forest. With a quick swivel, you scan your surroundings, hoping to catch a glimpse of any flicker of life amidst the shadows.

Suddenly, a jolt of pain shot through your body, causing you to gasp. Your eyes widened as you felt a sharp object pierce your ankle, momentarily stealing your breath away. In a reflexive response, you released your grip on the dagger, allowing it to fall to the forest floor. Bending down, you gingerly extracted the needle-like object.

Yet, as if a veil of mist had descended upon your eyes, your once clear vision became hazy and indistinct. With a determined shake of your head, you attempted to dispel the fog that had insidiously infiltrated your thoughts. Grasping the dagger once more, you struggled to regain your balance, stumbling clumsily as you rose to your full stature.

Alas, the forest floor seemed to twist and twirl in a dizzying dance before your eyes, causing you to succumb to its disorienting spell. In a sudden and unexpected motion, you found yourself sprawled on the ground, the knife slipping from your grasp and soaring away from your reach.

As the atmosphere grew thick with sinister chuckles, it became evident that you had unwittingly stumbled into the realm of the mischievous Goblins. Overwhelmed by frustration, tears of despair trickled down your cheeks, while your determination urged you to inch closer to the gleaming blade.

Suddenly, a force seized your trembling leg, causing you to cry out in fear. Frantically, you thrashed about, employing erratic kicks in a desperate bid to dislodge the mysterious grip.

It seemed that whatever the Goblins had put on that needle was finally kicking in. Gradually, your valiant resistance waned, your feeble attempts to resist their hold proving futile. A haunting laughter reverberated near your ear, causing you to cautiously shift your gaze towards the sound, tears streaming down your face as you found yourself ensnared by the gaze of large black eyes.

Abruptly, the creature's mouth parted, emitting a series of chitters that harmonized with the surrounding Goblins, creating an otherworldly symphony of communication. You plead with them, your tears cascading down your face and finding solace in the crevices of your hairline. The Goblin closest to you inches forward, its head tilting inquisitively, while its its gaze fixated on the shimmering trails of tears.

The soft murmur of their conversation is the sole sound that penetrates the deafening thump of your heartbeat. You have no clue what they're saying but the delicate caress of a hand on your cheek offers solace as it brushes away the tears that stream down your face.

In total, it appears that there are four figures surrounding you, two positioned near your feet and one on either side. Despite the fact that they are armed, they exhibit a sense of nonchalance, keeping their weapons idle by their sides.

As you begin to relax a bit, a glimmer of hope flickers within you, and you that they perceive you as harmless and decide to leave you here. A gentle warmth caresses your cheek, prompting you to slowly turn towards its source, only to recoil in fear at the looming presence of the monstrous being.

Its mouth, without warning, descends upon yours, planting a sloppy kiss that catches you off guard. Your eyes widen in shock, and you instinctively attempt to pull away, tears welling up in your eyes.

As if in a surreal reverie, a slimy appendage gently prods against your quivering lips, the creature displaying an unsettling indifference toward your futile resistance. Abruptly, a hand gropes your breast, its jagged nails tearing through the delicate fabric.

A gasp escapes your lips, mingling with the invasive kiss, and the intruder's long and thick tongue slides down your throat effortlessly. Paradoxically, this unwelcome intrusion only serves to ignite a fierce determination within you, intensifying your struggle against its grip.

Like a peculiar elixir, the mingling of the goblins' sweet saliva and your own descends upon your flushed cheeks. In that fleeting moment, you relinquish your futile attempts to escape their clutches. Your limbs refuse to obey your commands, and you find yourself overwhelmed by their sheer numbers. After all, if their intention was to end your life, they could easily do so, just like they had done to your brother.

Amidst the haze that clouds your sight, you find solace in the notion that this situation could have been far more dreadful. This kiss, though not your first, stands out among the many others you've experienced from the boys in the village who seem to always disregard your lack of consent. Hell, it might be the drug affecting your thoughts, or perhaps it's the overwhelmingly sweet taste of its saliva, but you don't particularly object to your current state.

Your eyes pop open at the sound of your bindings being ripped, exposing your breasts to the crisp breeze. Your nipples perk up and harden, as if beckoning one of the mischievous creatures to come and taste. Your thighs clench, clit pulsing as a hot mouth descends around your areola, suckling strongly, teeth delicately grazing your tender skin.

A wave of pleasure crashes over you, your moans escape into the Goblin's mouth. Your eyes remain shut, lost in a world where only the sensations matter. The impish creature, with clumsy hands, explores your other breast, teasing and coaxing your nipple.

You realize briefly how aroused you are, how slippery your cunt is ( so much so that it’s almost uncomfortable) and your cheeks flush in embarrassment. It's a secret that you'll hold dear forever, how these monstrous beings awaken a desire within you that far surpasses anything that men from your village could ever offer.

Riiiip

You quickly break away from the kiss, gasping for air, only to find yourself staring at the two Goblins by your feet. Your pants are torn, the hasty stitching coming undone effortlessly. Your knickers, worn and slightly tattered, had not been replaced in some time, but you always made sure to keep them thoroughly clean.

Your head is turned back, and before you can react, those lips are on yours once more. Your heart races as you feel your knickers being tugged down your thighs, your legs pushed up, exposing your dripping cunt.

Your pussy quivers as a rough tongue swipes across the expanse of your slit. It has you grinding wantonly against its eager mouth shamefully. The Goblin seems to like the way you taste because it grabs your thighs and heaves them over its small shoulders, burying its face deeper into your cunt, lapping excessively and for a moment you're seeing stars.

You arch your back, offering yourself up to its insistent mouth, lost in a haze of bliss. It devours you with a fervor that leaves you breathless, each lick sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. At that moment, nothing else exists but the overwhelming sensation of being consumed by pure, unadulterated lust.

Your eyes flutter closed, and the relentless flick of its coarse tongue against your throbbing clit makes you pulse needly. The kiss stops momentarily and you take that time to breathe deeply, chest heaving as the other Goblins take their time suckling on your breast and eating you out.

A wet sensation brushes against your lips, prompting you to extend your tongue and savor the warm, bittersweet taste. With a soft moan escaping your lips, you gaze upwards, feeling your cheeks flush at the sight of the Goblin's cock hovering above your mouth.

The girth is thick but it's not long, a good 4 inches at best. Slowly, it guides itself into your hot mouth, and you savor the intoxicating sweetness of its precum on your eager tastebuds. You obediently bob your head, your cheeks growing even hotter as the Goblin's hands entwine in your hair, dictating the rhythm at its own whims.

A surge of electricity courses through your hips as your clit is slurped on harshly, your eagerness taking over as you gyrate your hips with increasing fervor against the skilled tongue, craving more of its enthralling touch. The sudden, forceful thrust of the other Goblin’s cock down your throat elicits a mixture of sensations, from a deep gag to an overwhelming sense of pleasure and your legs tremble uncontrollably, wrapping around the Goblin's head, as you cum with a soft, high-pitched moan.

With a hint of jealousy, the other one shoves the Goblin away and eagerly plunges his tongue into your throbbing core, chittering at the taste of you. You find yourself utterly vulnerable, incapable of reaching down to push his head away, cunt sensitive and pulsing.

You suddenly heave as its cock hits the back of your throat, bittersweet thick, sticky cum shooting into your mouth. You gulp it down, the viscosity coating your tongue as you eagerly suck on the bulbous tip to get every last drop of it. The Goblin lets out a guttural moan before pulling away, collapsing onto the lush greenery.

A gentle breeze caresses your sensitive nipples as the other mischievous Goblin frees them from its warm mouth, straddling your stomach and pressing your breasts together, sliding its cock in between the valley and thrusting. Your lips part, eagerly enveloping the swollen tip as it reaches your mouth.

The Goblin that had decided to eat you out first had maneuvered itself to your head. With a perverted gaze, it pleasures itself, mesmerized by the sight of its tribe member's pulsating cock disappearing into the velvety embrace of your breasts and then past your fleshy lips.

You let out a squeal of surprise as a painful thickness pushes into you, tears immediately wetting your cheeks at the discomfort. You attempt to move your hips back, trying to get away from the intruding cock. The goblin grabbed the fat of your hips, anchoring itself. Its clumsy fingers dance over your clit, soothing the ache with each teasing stroke. Pushing in until its small balls rest against your plump ass.

And as soon as it noticed your body relaxing, it began to thrust, its head thrown back in wicked laughter, before glancing downwards, captivated by the sight of its green cock disappearing inside you, marveling at how tight your pussy was gripping him. Oblivious to its actions, the Goblin intensified its circular caresses on your clit, overstimulating your bundle of nerves. You cried out, cunt spasming and quivering around its cock, you came once more– leaving a pearlescent ring of cream around the base of him.

The mischievous creature nestled between your breasts finally cums, tiny hips faltering as its seed trickles down your chin and breasts. Succumbing to temptation, you welcome the tip into your mouth, savoring every last drop of. Its taste was nothing short of addictive.

A thick warmth fills your cunt, coating your gummy walls in a sticky fluid. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, you feel so full and sated. The weight of the two Goblins pressed against your skin, sends a shiver down your spine. Darkness creeps in, but you welcome it, too lost in the moment to care, and whatever they gave you hadn't worn off yet.

The moment your eyes fluttered open, a blanket of darkness surrounded you, the gentle chirping of crickets filling your ears and the icy touch of the night air jolting you awake. Sitting upright, you realized you were situated at the forest's edge, your cozy dwelling just a short distance away.

Gradually adjusting to the lack of light, you discovered an array of food spread out before you, your hunger pangs intensifying as your stomach rumbled. Without hesitation, you indulged in the succulent berries, pondering whether it was all a mere dream. However, the lingering sensation of the cold breeze caressing your exposed nipples and the stickiness clinging to your thighs contradicted that notion.

Gathering as much food as you could carry, you stood up and made a swift exit, calling out for your mother. You looked behind you, the feeling of being watched overwhelming. Tomorrow, you vowed to return and express your gratitude to those unseen eyes.

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fleurriee · 11 months

Text

— wanted desires ; neteyam sully

pairing ; neteyam sully x fem!pregnant reader

synopsis ; too worried about being rough on you, neteyam won’t allow himself to give into his desires, despite you having never looked more ravishing. but, it’s simply been too long for you, and you can hold yourself back no longer.

word count ; 4.4k

themes ; smut, fluff, established relationship (mates)

warnings ; explicit content: pregnant sex, p in v sex, breast play, nipple play, ear kissing, but all kinda sensual??

author’s note ; (in this, ive kinda just assumed that na’vi sleep naked) so this has slightly less dad!neteyam in it & more horny neteyam which im sorry about. i really can’t decide if im happy with it but i want to go along with the plans i have for this series & this was a chapter i’d planned a while back. i had originally planned this to be more smutty but as i started writing this i just couldn't bc even tho it's dad!neteyam who’s just 🥵 he'd be too scared to hurt you, so, we've ended up with this?? i PROMISE the next one is absolutely fucking adorable & will have everything people want when it comes to dad!neteyam!! this is part of my dad!neteyam series, which you can find in my masterlist below!

previous part ; next part

dad!neteyam series masterlist main masterlist request a fic!

Neteyam was everything you could've asked for... and more.

As you slowly but surely started to reach the end of your pregnancy, the last stages just looming over your shoulders, he was always there for you. You were becoming more irrational, and there was no doubt in your mind that you were annoying everyone you came into contact with. But, each and every one of them seemed to understand, and none better than Neteyam.

Your mate was constantly by your side - physically or mentally - tending to your every need and abiding by your every request. Hormones getting the better of you, you also started to take your problems and own annoyances out on him. It was completely unfair and it always made you feel incredibly guilty and horrible in the end, crying your eyes out in your mate's arms as all you could do was apologise profusely.

But, not once did he hold it against you. No - instead of taking every harsh word you uttered to him to heart, instead of truly believing that you meant them, he allowed the blows and the insults to be thrown his way, soaking them in until your temper died down and there was nothing but an exhausted, drained and broken girl in front of him. After that, he'd soothe your apologies, caging you in his arms protectively, stroking both the top of your head and your expanding stomach whilst he assured you he understood that you hadn't meant all those words, that it was okay.

He'd insist that he didn't mind taking such aggravation, not when you were doing all the hard work... not when you were carrying his entire world on your shoulders.

To no surprise of anyone, his family were as perfect as they could be, too, always either giving you a helping hand, or steering clear less they want to say the wrong thing. It was obvious from the very start of the stark differences between the two sides of Neteyam's - and, you guess, your own - family.

When it came to those that were always supportive and understanding, it was always the girls. Neytiri would constantly make sure that you were the most comfortable in any situation you found yourself in, wanting to ensure that the mother was safe and healthy before anything else; Kiri was, without fail, bringing you different concotions made by both herself and Mo'at that helped ease your pain and soothe your anxieties; and Tuk, consistently babbling about how excited she is to finally meet her niece or nephew, planning out how all she's going to do when they arrive is dote on them. Each of them had created their own roles to play in your pregnancy, and each one comfortably took your mind off the worries that were swirling around, believing that simply nothing could go wrong when you had such beautiful people around you all the time.

On the complete other side, there were the boys. Both Jake and Lo'ak were different stories compared to the rest of their families - whilst the two of them were as excited and eager to meet your baby, too, neither one of them wanted to really get too involved, something that didn't exactly bother you, rather just making you giggle at their reactions. They gave you as much space as possible, too scared to get too close in case they either annoyed you or did something wrong. Whilst Jake had done this many times before, gone through several of these similar experiences with his own mate, he didn't want to overstep any boundaries between yourself and his eldest son, considering he had no idea what it was like carrying a baby for so long. And, Lo'ak... Lo'ak was just scared of his older brother.

After all, you were now considered delicate, and they knew if something happened to you, they'd be on the feral side of Neteyam... something neither of them particularly wanted to experience any time soon.

But, there was one thing that you couldn't stand during all of this, and, surprisingly, it wasn't anyone else trying to help.

It was Neteyam, and the fact that he wouldn't touch you.

Way more often than you were used to, you found yourself feeling sexually frustrated, the only thing you needed being for yourself and Neteyam to be intimate in the same way that got you in this situation in the first place. You narrowed your sudden feelings down to the fact that it had been so long - whilst the two of you never really had sex all the time before becoming pregnant, after being denied of your wants for an excruciatingly long period of time now, you were slowly teetering over the edge.

And, it wasn't as though you weren't trying, either. Your attempts of kissing him sensually, gaining beautiful-sounding moans out of him before he forced himself away from you; touching him explicitly, feeling him shudder under your grasp, before he moved himself impossibly further away from you, eyes scrunched tight as he held himself back; laying yourself bare for him when he go home, before he sighed dejectedly and shook his head, doing his damn best to ignore you... all to waste.

Neteyam just couldn't stand the idea of hurting you or the baby.

Sure, you guess you could understand where he was coming from, too, considering neither of you had been in this situation before, having no idea if having sex could harm either one of you, and the both of you were too prideful to ask someone else about it. So, you were stuck in what felt like a never-ending loop, enjoying itself as it tortured you blissfully.

But, you had never been so frustrated in your entire life.

The day had, once again, been a long and tiring one for the two of you, trying to let sleep overtake your entire senses and succumb to the world beyond. You were lay down upon your mat, the two of you on your sides - something that always felt more comfortable against the pains in your stomach, so Neteyam was happy to oblige - as your mate's front curls into your figure, his tail automatically wrapping itself around your bump protectively, like it always did, like a ritual.

That's when you started to feel it.

Your mind was beginning to deny you of any sleep anyway, your arousal once again getting the better of you as it painted your wanted desires within the forefront of you mind's eye until there was nothing else you could think of. But, it seemed as though Neteyam was feeling something, too - a bulge poking against your lower back, throbbing gently every now and again like it was demanding your attention, like it was excited.

For a moment, you wondered if Neteyam had even noticed his own predicament, considering he was the one so desperate to not engage in this way, and now he's aching. It's ironic that the roles have suddenly reversed, and you wonder how next to play this out.

Taking in a shuddering breath when you feel his tail subconsciously stroke against your skin, you weigh up your options - you could either ignore it completely, knowing it'll be a fight to get him to give into you, allowing the sultry thoughts within your mind to be the only release you'd get... or, you could take control for yourself.

In no time at all, you decide upon the latter. It wasn't much of a decision to make, either, too wrapped up in the sensations you knew only he could give you, wanting nothing but him all over you.

You start of with the barest of movements, not wanting to completely pounce on him in surprise, knowing that if you did, he'd get angry. The best way to get him to give in was always going to be to get him weak. Fidgeting about in place, barely moving, you pretend as though you're subconsciously trying to get comfortable - after all, who was he to say that you weren't when carrying a Na'vi around constantly?

A small moan sounds behind you, under his breath like he hadn't meant for it to spill from his lips, but it already has you smirking slightly. Instantly, you know he wants this just as much as you do, and if your plan works how you intend it to, you'll both be falling asleep blissful and satisfied after too long of denying yourselves.

Your next step is start rubbing your ass against his bulge, but ensuring your movements stay slow, so as not to arouse him so suddenly. At the feel of him against you in such a sensual way, a breathy sigh leaves your lips, eyes fluttering closed as you forget how much you truly enjoyed the feel of his cock anywhere on you.

Just as you’re enjoying yourself, your ass continuing to rub painfully slow against his excitement, there's a rough hand placed firmly along the side of your hip. It's not too tight a grip, not wanting to hurt you or possibly bruise you, but it's enough to hold you down in place and stop your movements from carrying on any further. "Stop," Neteyam almost demands, voice gruff as though he's just woken up, which means he'd been dreaming about taking you like he always loved to.

His one word command does practically the complete opposite of its original purpose, however - instead of listening and giving into him, it only seems to fuel your fire, adding on to your already painful arousal. The way he said the word, sounding so authoritative and annoyed and just sexy has you wanting more, more, more. It definitely wasn't in his plans to have you reacting such a way, but you couldn't help yourself anymore, too far gone. This was the closest you'd been to one another in this way for too long.

Your response to him is a whimper, pathetic and pleading, as you force your hips to move once more despite him hand still placed firmly on you. When your ass brushes against his cock again, he hisses, the sensation no doubt sending him into overdrive, whilst his fingers hold a tighter grip, automatically indenting themselves into your skin.

"Please," you whine, breaths uneven and you were barely even touching each other. "Neteyam, please."

There's a brief moment of silence that lingers between the two of you as your words evaporate into the surrounding air, yourself guessing that it's now Neteyam's turn to weigh up the options set out before him. Unfortunately, he knows you like he knows the back of his own hand, meaning it's obvious straight away that you wont give in now that you're this close to getting what you want. Besides, despite having seen you plead for him to just touch you before you fell pregnant in a way that had him excited, he's never heard you like this - desperate, anguished, and downright aching.

It makes him feel more thrilled than he'd like to admit - especially to you, right in this moment.

With a sigh of defeat, Neteyam knows there's not much else he can do other than give you what you want - although, he could change how he does it. He removes his hand from your waist, tail staying still in its place like always, fidgeting about. You're unsure as to what exactly he's doing, not words or explanations exchanged, rather just letting him do what he wants. For a second, you wonder if your plan had backfired, and he was moving further away from you, or possibly even leaving. The thought has your heart aching in displeasure.

But, then all thoughts are wiped from your mind when you begin to feel a gentle prod against your soaked entrance, subconsciously lifting one of your legs slightly higher in the air at the sensation, before Neteyam is sheathing himself fully inside you. His hand closest to you wraps around your elevated leg to relieve you of the annoyance of lifting it up yourself. When all you can really feel is Neteyam, no longer empty but warm and full, a guttural moan escapes your lips before you can trap it, your hand coming up to slap over your mouth, eyes closed tightly as you take him whole.

You hadn't truly realised how long it had been since you last felt him this way until now. Curse him and his damn protective instincts.

In just seconds, you want nothing more than to chase more of that feeling, more of that euphoric sensation, rubbing yourself impossibly closer to him as the tip of his cock hits such a sweet spot, you're sure you're with the Great Mother in some type of beautiful heaven right now.

Before you can go any further, though, Neteyam's palm finds your hip again, stopping you in place and this time, you don't bother trying to hold yourself back. The whimpers and whines that leave your throat at such a denial are mewling and pitiful, writhing about to relieve yourself of his hold, but he's relentless. Somehow, his entire body is closer to you than it was last time, faces inches away from one another as he brings his lips to your ear. At first, all you can decipher are breathless pants as his chest heaves up and down from trying to hold himself back. "No," he grunts, puffing as he attempts to gain control once more, "we're not doing that. We're going to stay like this - that's the best I'll give you."

This time, it's a groan that falls from your lips, one that sounds almost painful but you're too annoyed to care, cursing out everything for Neteyam being such a gentleman. All you want is for him to fuck you - was that so much to ask? You're not even sure if the situation you've put yourselves in is any better than having nothing, either, because now you can feel all of him entirely, can feel how excited he is to finally be inside you as his cock throbs in pleasure at being snuggled between your walls. Now, it just feels like a taunt of what you could have.

He chuckles softly against your ear at your reaction, still having not moved - and he probably wouldn't now, not unless he wanted to really feel you. The teasing smile is wiped off his features after a second, however, and replaced by one of sympathy, words becoming softer than they were before. "I'm sorry, muntxate (wife), I really don't want to hurt you or our 'evenge (girl)."

There's just a brief split second where his loving words filter through you and knock your senses apart - of course, he wouldn't want to hurt his girls, he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he ever did. The idea of anyone harming either of you drove him insane, let alone the cause of your pain being him. But, your fleeting emotions cascade into ones of just pure desire, filtering in one ear and out the other until your mind is nothing but a hazy cloud, panting desperately for more.

You give yourself a moment to just breathe, to not hyperventilate at the exultant feeling of him fully inside you. Neteyam assures that his grip stays firm against your hip, not wishing to relent against his own commands so easily, but he does rub his thumb in a soothing circle, painting your skin with a reminder of how much he loves both you and your child.

You're quick to move your hips again, eyes staying closed as you imagine everything he could be doing to you right now, rubbing yourself against him entirely. Immediately, your mate tightens his fingers in his grasp, a clear warning sign for you to stop in your teasing, to just bask in the embrace of one another and say that's enough.

Yet, it isn't enough. It's nowhere near being enough for you. There's a feeling of being slightly impressed at the restraint he's showing to you, and irritated all the same, until another idea comes to your mind.

Smiling a little smugly to yourself, already knowing what you're about to do next is something he definitely cannot resist based on the previous times you've done it, you clench your fluttering walls around his length, taking him whole and tightly. Your own actions cause a breath of blissful relief to pass through your slightly parted lips, loving the way you can feel his cock throb even more.

Another hiss sounds against your ear, his grip tightening, but this time, so does his tail as it continues to stay wrapped firmly around your bulging figure, the end vibrating in a fever of both agitation and anticipation. Even his body desires it, but he wont allow his mind to. He's starting to pant a little more frequently, too, now, like he's weakening at the seams, and that's when you know you have him exactly where you want him.

You continue to clench around him, bringing your hips up and down his length at a tantalisingly slow pace to ensure he feels every inch of you, hitting every spot of your walls. There's a feeling of triumph coursing through you when he no longer attempts to stop you in your teasing movements, knowing he's finally allowed himself to give into you entirely. Instead, the hand that was once gripping your hip snakes its way around your front, fondling against your breasts as he squeezes them sensually. When he moves to the other one, wanting to give it the same attention, he pinches your nipple, loving how sensitive they are due to your pregnant state, eliciting a deep moan from the back of your throat, no longer caring if anyone else can hear you.

"You're a little minx, you know that?" he taunts, words a harsh whisper against your ear but you don't care - not when the once slow movements between the two of you suddenly increase in their pace as Neteyam takes over. The alternating grip, too, against your breasts tightens, constantly squeezing them as he soaks in how swollen they feel. "Always getting what you want."

The tip of his cock repeatedly probes against that sweet, spongy part within you so beautifully as his thrusts continue to increase in their speed. Your mate almost feels feral with his actions, perhaps finally realising that he shouldn't have denied the two of you the pleasure of one another, not when you were so needy. Not wanting to stop clenching around him as he moves in and out of you in a relentless pace, you can feel your release quickly approaching already, no doubt having felt forsaken for so long - you're sensitive enough as it is being pregnant.

"Neteyam-" you moan beautifully, breathily, like a songcord to your mate's ears, sure he's never head you sound so ethereal before. You have to cut yourself off as you moan in pleasure when you start to feel his balls slapping sensually against your skin, the warm sensation within wrapping around you like a blanket, one you never want to get rid of.

He brings his head closer than it already was, burying his face within the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. Sometimes he wishes he could drown in your scent, more so than ever now that you're pregnant - somehow, you managed to emit an even more delicious scent than before. Sucking against your particular sweet spot he knows you adore having his attention on, he ensures to leave behind at least a small mark, wishing for the entire clan to know that you were his, even though you're carrying his firstborn, wanting to be sure.

Lips moving feverishly against your warm skin as he continues to fuck you at a pace that was relentless, your pleasing moans scratching against the back of your throat, he eventually finds himself at your ears, placing soft kisses against them. The sensation has them fluttering in satisfaction, but then he trails down to suck harshly against your jaw, and your breath stutters, whining. "Mmm," he hums against your skin, now resorting to placing gentle kisses when he was once rough. "What is it, sevin (pretty)?"

In all this time, whilst his mouth was focused elsewhere, not once had his thrusts faltered, loving the way you’re so drunk on him entirely.

"I'm - I'm so close, 'teyam," you mewl, eyes slightly rolling to back of your head as he grunts at yet another clench from you around his cock, before you close them shut when they start to tear up.

"I know," he agrees, words just a breathy whisper, already being able to understand how close you truly are from the way you feel around him. It feels like his mind is on fire as your walls flutter from being so close to release, clenching and unclenching around him, having lost its rhythm. His pants are becoming more erratic now, bearing down upon you, but it makes you feel alive. "I'm close, too."

Quickly, knowing that the two of you wont be able to last much longer, he brings his queue forward, the tendrils reaching out as he then connects it with your own awaiting one. Movements now becoming sloppy and uncoordinated, but continuing to hit right at your cervix, your eyes widen as you start to feel everything he currently is - all the love, the desire, the frustration - bathing in one another like two pieces of a puzzle only made for you two.

Burying his head back in the crook of your neck, hand moving down to caress your swollen baby bump - one that's just moons away from its expected day - he whispers sweet nothings against your skin, wanting to tattoo them into you so you'll never forget them. Words like I love you, you're so beautiful, I can't wait to make more, having you crooning somehow more than ever, feeling him peppering kisses to you now.

It's not long after that when the two of you are finally releasing together, explicit moans and grunts escaping your lips as your arousal's become spent. "Neteyam, Neteyam, Neteyam-" you repeat his name like a prayer, having never sounded more amazing to your mate.

You can feel the mixture of your cum with his against Neteyam's cock, awaiting the feeling of becoming empty and cold when he removes himself from you and lets it trickle between your thighs. But, nothing of the sort happens. Rather, your mate stays put, keeping his cock in your warmth, snug, and therefore, keeping all his cum pushed further in you - something he's always loved to do.

Eyes closed in bliss, mouth parted as you try to catch your breath, Neteyam gives your stomach a few tender taps, garnering your attention. Before you can fully move your head on your own, Neteyam's hand moves to cup the side of your face, bringing your noses together as you breathe one another in. He presses a forgiving kiss against your lips, letting them linger against one another, not wanting to pull away. "I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asks, the worry and concern evident in both his tone, but also the way you notice his ears droop and eyes glaze over just at the thought.

Looking up at him, you give him the most loving smile you could muster, shaking your head adamantly. "No, ma'teyam," your words are gentle, soothing, "we're both okay, I promise." You make sure to kiss him again with the same softness he gave you, wanting to ensure he completely understood that you meant every word, that you were okay.

This time, when you pull away, he nuzzles your noses together in a domestic way he's started to do since a few moons ago - the same way he likes to do it with your stomach, like he's doing it with your daughter. Pressing his forehead against your own, his eyes never once leave yours, full of adoration and devotion. "I'm sorry I was neglecting you..."

Instantly, your heart sinks at his words, your hand moving up to caress his cheek soothingly like he does yours. You can hear the despair and brokenness behind his voice, and it only pains you further - Neteyam couldn't have been a better mate throughout this entire journey together, but he didn't understand that. He always thought he had to be perfect, that he had to do everything right straight away, but this was a journey you were experiencing for the first time together.

Neteyam couldn't neglect you if he tried. He's too doting, too domesticated, too tender to even think about doing such a thing.

"You do not need to apologise, my muntxatan (husband). I understand why you were worried - but you never neglected me, not once. You were just scared, and so am I..." you pause, your once sympathetic and caring expression turning teasing and menacing, "...but, now that we know that it doesn't do either of us any harm, maybe we could do it more often..."

He chuckles at your words, watching as you bite your lips in mock thought, attempting to hide the sultry smile playing at your lips. It's like your words instantly managed to clear his worry, feeling it dissipate at your loving reassurance, until his eyes were bright and his smile wide, looking down at you like you held the entire universe within you.

In a way, he supposed you did.

"I guess we could..." he relents, his own tone turning into one of teasing, too, smirking as he brings your faces closer into a sensual kiss. This one is all tongues and teeth clashing together, feverish in anticipation to experience more together now that the worries once clouding over the two of you had begun to part.

As his hands roam over your body, from your jaw, to your neck, to your breasts, and finally to your stomach, caressing every inch of your skin like you were a painting, he moves to hover over you, mindful not to put his weight on top of you. A giggle falls from your lips at his sudden change in demeanour, but that's soon swallowed by another deep kiss that has your breath dispersing almost immediately.

It was safe to say, with the amount of times the two of you came together as one just during that particular night, if you weren't pregnant beforehand, you definitely would've been after that.

taglist ;

@monahiiii @bakugouswaif @andraga12 @draiochtwrites @teyums @neteyamslovrr @tinkerbelle05 @netesanrr @lanasblood @camilo-uwu @queen190 @adrianarose7 @ttkttt @ayoungforeveruniverse-blog

#𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐔𝐑𝐑’s work ── ✎#neteyam #neteyam sully #avatar #avatar 2 #neteyam fluff #neteyam smut #neteyam x reader #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam x you #neteyam sully x you #neteyam x female reader #neteyam x fem reader #neteyam x pregnant reader #dad!neteyam #dad neteyam #dad neteyam series <3

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samkerrworshipper · 1 month

Text

have no fear

jordan nobbs x reader, leah williamson x reader, arsenal x reader

part 2 of beautiful girl series -> pt. 1 -> pt.3

warnings: drug addiction, drug use, angst, pain, mentions of sexual assault, little bit of fluff if you look really close

So with every last piece of strength that you had in your body, you pulled the door open.

“Hey chicky.”

You tried to smile at your ma, you did, but it was hard.

“Hey ma.”

You knew you had to look like a wreck, you hadn’t had time to look in a mirror on your way down, but you knew that you must look like a complete mess.

Jordan brought you into a hug before you could do anything about it her little arms squeezing your body as tightly as you thought she could manage.

She forced her way into the house before you could say anything about it, walking her way into the kitchen and leaving you close the door behind her.

“Le said you were out last night.”

You followed your ma into the kitchen, walking straight to the coffee pot.

“You want coffe?”

Jordan had always been the stricter of your two parents, probably because she saw you less, Leah was the one who had to do the hard yards, constantly fighting with you over the biggest and smallest things.

“Tea please, how late where you out till, who were you with?”

You turned the machine on, trying to hide your annoyance at the immediate interrogation.

“Did you come here to see me or question my choices?”

You pulled two mugs from the shelf, reaching for the kettle and pouring enough water in before reaching for a tea bag.

“I came here to see you chicky, and catch up with you, I want to hear about what’s been going on.”

You dropped the tea bag into the cup, reaching across the island to hand it to your ma.

“I was out with a few friends.”

You pulled your vape out of your pocket, hoping that it would help to soothe the insistent memory of the events of last night and push it from the forefront of your mind.

“What’s that?”

You looked up at Jordan curiously, one of your own eyebrows raising.

“What’s what?”

You looked back at the coffee machine, watching as your mug slowly began to fill up with the brown mixture.

“Since when do you vape?”

You pulled your mug out from the machine, setting down on the island so you were facing your ma.

“A couple of months, why?”

You reached for the sugar container, taking the spoon out of it and dropping two spoonfuls in.

“Does your mother know?”

The shock in Jordan’s voice was so obvious.

“Yup.”

It was all good and well for Jordan to judge Leah’s decisions with parenting you, but at the end of day she’d been the one to leave, refusing to take you with her, insisting that life in London was better for you and that passing you back and forth between Birmingham and London every week wouldn’t be fair, she left you.

“How’s football been?”

The pivot in conversation should have helped, but you knew that it wouldn’t as soon as the words had left her mouth.

“I stopped playing.”

Jordan frowned at you.

“Since when?”

You brought the coffee up to your lips, finding solace in the warm liquid.

“A while ago.”

You wished she’d drop the topic, she seemed to be becoming more disappointed by the minute.

“Why, you were great, you were one of the best a the academy.”

You were one of the best because Leah spent all of her afternoons coaching you, because she knew the coaches, because she knew what she had to do to make you better, not because you were naturally gifted or because it came easy to you.

“I didn’t want to.”

You ried to answer her with some finality, to make her drop it and move on.

“How about school, how are your gcse’s going?”

You wanted to lie to her and tell her it was good, that you were on track to get all A stars like you’d planned.

“I don’t think I’m going to do them, my attendance isn’t high enough.”

Jordan’s face plummeted, her jaw going slack as she looked at you.

“What? I thought you wanted to go to college, that you were planning on doing medicine or law or english lit.”

You hated that Jordan had this preconceived version of you in her head, from when she left, from when she used to travel every weekend to see you, when you were doing everything to try and be the perfect kid for the both of them.

“Plans change.”

You kept your eyes downcast, scared to look at her and absorb the disappointment.

“What do you plan to do, without an education and your football? Do you plan to just live with your mother forever? Do you plan to use her until she’s old and retired? You can’t just live your life like that chicky, you need a goal, a aspiration, something you want to do with your life.”

It was the same conversation Leah had tried to have with you, one you’d ignored.

“I know ma.”

Jordan looked at you with disapproval.

“It doesn’t seem like you do, what are your plans, what are you spending all of your time doing?”

Getting high, crying, regretting your existence.

“I don’t know Ma, look, you don’t get to come here for the first time in a month and try to act like you give a shit about what’s going on, Mom’s been through it and I’ve been trying to support her, I’ll figure it all out later.”

Jordan looked dismayed, to say the least, her finger twirling the teabag inside of her cup aimlessly.

“Lovey, your mom is in a lot of pain right now, she doesn’t deserve to be taken advantage of, I understand you might be going through your own pain but it’d be nice if you could try and be a bit better for her.”

You wanted to yell at jordan, tell her that you were hardly the fucking problem, but you couldn’t, not when everything that had happened in the last 24 hours was circulating non stop in your mind.

“Look, I understand that I’m not the kid you wanted, that I stopped playing football and I’m not doing what you wanted me to.”

Jordan stopped you before you could say much more.

“No it’s just that months ago you were fit, you were reading and writing and playing football, you were smiling and spending all of your spare time with your mom and now it’s like all of that’s changed and you’ve just become this person I don’t know anymore. Can you blame me for being surprised? This isn’t you, This isn’t my kid, this just isn’t you, chicky.”

You couldn’t look at Jordan, you just couldn’t.

“You have no fucking idea what’s going on, you’re never here, the only time you give a fuck about my life is when it’s convenient for you and when you get to judge it. I’m not your kid anymore, you don’t fucking love me, you haven’t wanted me for a long time.”

Jordan recoiled at your words.

“First of all, don’t swear at me, I hope you don’t talk to your mother that way. Secondly, that’s not true and not fair. I’m here as often as I can be. I love you chick, I just think you could be making better decisions. Where were you last night?”

You rolled your eyes, you felt frantic, you could feel your heart beating in your ear and the blood pumping through your veins.

“That’s such bullshit. Trips to Spain to see Lucy are more important then me, huh? Trips to Ibiza to hang out with Caitlin and Katie are more important than me? You criticise the decisions mom has made but you aren’t here, you don’t understand what it’s like.”

Your hands were shaking so badly you had to put your coffee down, the liquid having spilt slightly down onto the countertop.

“Where were you last night, lovey?”

The question made you feel like you needed to puke, and for a second you thought it was just a feeling, but then you felt the bile rising and you realised it wasn’t just a feeling, you were about to vomit.

You rushed from the kitchen as quickly as your weary body would allow, your legs shaking underneath you, threatening to give out, taunting you from below.

You made it to the toilet bowl just in time for your jaw to go slack and the bile that had been rising in your throat to splat against the porcelain. You didn’t look at it, you couldn’t, knowing that it was probably evidence of what had happened last night, the alcohol, him.

You didn’t need to see Jordan to know she was waiting at the door behind you. It was the last way you wanted to spend your couple of hours with her, but it didn’t really matter now you supposed.

You knew you were done when the pressure in your throat dissipated and you finally felt like you could breathe again. You pushed yourself up, flushing the toilet before turning around to look at Jordan.

Your Ma reached out for you first, her hand coming up to your face, gently pressing onto your cheek.

“It’s alright bubba, I’m here, you’re okay, I’m sorry.”

Jordan’s arms opened up and without hesitation you leaned in, seeking out comfort that you hadn’t felt in a long time. The hug didn’t provide the love you were yearning for, it didn’t soothe the part of you that was hurting, but it did patch a hole inside of you somewhere.

You were far taller than Jordan, but she somehow made you feel like a little kid again, your head coming to rest down on her shoulder.

“C’mon, let’s get you to the couch and we’ll talk, huh, one on one, no judgement.”

You felt eight again as Jordan lead you over to the same couch. You felt how you did when you were eight, when your moms sat you down and promised you that they would always be a safe space for you, that you could tell them anything about the past and they wouldn’t judge you and that they’d always be proud of you no matter what, you felt how you did at 12 when your moms sat you down to let you know that the academy had asked them if you wanted to play with them, you felt how you did at 14 when your moms sat you down to let you know that your teacher wanted to put you up a form at school. Except everything was different, it wasn’t your moms, there was nothing to be proud of, nothing for them to tell you you were doing good at.

Jordan sat you down, your head pressed to her shoulder.

“I’m sorry that I was rough on you, okay? I don’t know what’s going on, I’m not here as much as I should be. Can you tell me about last night, bubba, please?”

You didn’t get why she cared so much, your mom hardly cared what you did on your nights out as long as you were home by your curfew and stayed safe.

“I went to a party, okay? It’s no big deal.”

You heard Jordan exhale next to you.

“You didn’t do anything stupid?”

You wondered what Jordan would define as stupid.

“I drank a little, smoked a bit of pot, normal teenage shit.”

You wanted it to be the truth, desperately, but it wasn’t.

“That’s it?”

Jordan knew you were lying, she’d always been better at telling, Leah on the other hand wasn’t as practised in being able to detect when lies were falling freely from your lips.

“Yes, for fucks sakes.”

Jordan only tightened her embrace around you, bringing her as close to you as possible. Leah had stopped hugging you like this when she’d done her knee, it had become harder and she knew you were growing up, she didn’t think you needed her in that way anymore, she was so incredibly wrong.

“Okay, I’m sorry chicky, I’ll stop with the questions. Let’s just have a you and me day, huh? Like we used to. We can go to the cafe that you like and down to the beach, whatever you want, just a you and me day.”

You didn’t want any of that.

“Can’t we just stay on the couch.”

You heard jordan chuckle a little bit.

“How about we go and get breakfast and then we can have a movie day, or we can catch up on the episodes of Love Island, I haven’t gotten to watching the new season yet.”

You didn’t want to go anywhere, you wanted to stay in your safe space, up in your room on your windowsill.

“Do we have to.”

Jordan nodded from above you.

“Fresh air will be good for you. Plus, you want to get a mean hangover then that’s your own fault chicky, it’s best to learn the hard way. Head upstairs and get changed, I need to talk to your mom real quick.”

You wanted to stick around to hear what Jordan planned to tell your mom, but you didn’t want to wreck whatever you had going with her, so you just nodded your head and stood up, beginning the walk back up to your room.

You hated looking at yourself in the mirror.

Because you could act like you were fine, you could pretend you were put together and had your life together and fool yourself but as soon as you were forced to look at yourself it all was clear. There was truth in your eyes and the way they made your body look so vacant, so eerie, it was as if they were the sign that there was no life left inside of you.

You’d always felt out of place no matter where you were, like you never truly belonged. You’d always felt like you were one of those tragic people with no storyline, so you lived watching other people, living through them. To start with it had been your moms, watching how much they loved each other, how they looked at each other, how they spoe about each other, like you were a background character in their story. It worked for a long time, until it didn’t. Until they split up, until you were forced to heal all over again from the home that was breaking around you. All the things you’d been running from before them were back, and instead of feeling like you were safe you knew you weren’t, you knew that no matter how loved you’d felt for the longest time, you weren’;t anymore, you didn’t get to live vicariously through their love.

You scrubbed your face without any real care, scrubbing the makeup, mascara and tears from last night off of your face.

Once you were content that the were physically gone, even if it mentally didn’t feel that way, you stood up from the basin and dried your face, hoping the patting would somehow strip the pain that was painted across your skin, it didn’t.

You moved to your wardrobe next, picking out a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie, as well as your thickest winter jacket. It was the same thing you wore every time your mom forced you out of the house to go on some stupid errand with her or some random appointment. You picked out a comfy enough pair of trainers before pushing your hair into a bun and walking back down the stairs.

Your Ma was talking hushedly into her phone, and put it down as soon as she spotted you descending the stairs.

“Ready to go?”

You nodded, one of your eyebrows up in questioning as you stared at your Ma’s phone.

“I was just checking in with your mom, she says they should be back around lunch time.”

Then Jordan would leave, like she always did.

“I’m not a chore, if you don’t want to hangout with me then you don’t have to be here, I can be left alone for a couple of hours.”

Jordan exhaled, deep enough for a few seconds to linger.

“That’s not fair, I’m here kiddo, I want to spend some time with you.”

You pulled your vape out of your pocket, Jordan could tell when you were lying and you could tell when she was.

“No, you have to spend time with me until mom is back, there is a difference.”

In the beginning, Jordan would come down every weekend, no matter where her game was, just to spend time with her little chicky, as the months and year had passed though, her time with you had become shorter and shorter until you’d only see her if she had a game in London.

“I don’t care, I get it, you’re busy with your new life, it’s whatever. Let’s just get this over and done with.”

Jordan looked like she wanted to say something, but the frown you sent her must have been enough of a silencer.

The two of you walked out the front door silent, down the street silent, all the way to the cafe, completely silent, the only sound to be heard was the cars going by, the sounds of your breathing and the repetitive puff of your lips as you pressed the vape to your lips. If you couldn’t have drugs then it was going to have to do.

When you got to the cafe you had enough courtesy to shove it in your pocket, focusing your attention on your Ma as much as you hated it.

She ordered you your normal, you were surprised she remembered.

“How’d the game go last night?”

You hadn’t tuned into either games, you’d had other things on your mind.

“We drew, it was a good game though.”

You nodded, it didn’t matter much in the scheme of things, Aston Villa weren’t in a title race, weren’t in contention for a trophy of any kind but also weren’t at any real risk of relegation, they were just mid.

“How about mom?”

Leah wasn’t playing, but a part of you still cared about how her team had gone.

“They won, 1-2 to man city.”

You nodded, that was something.

Your food arrived which was a good enough distraction, both you and Jordan focusing your attention on the meals in front of you. A couple of years ago, all of your sunday mornings had been spent here with your two moms, nowadays if you went, which was rare, it was by yourself.

The meal went on in awkward silence, the both of you clearly unsure how to deal with the pent up awkwardness that had been developing since you’d left the house.

The meal dragged on until the two of you couldn’t pretend any longer and called it done, the two of you standing up and leaving in the same silence you’d entered.

You didn’t mind the silence, it hurt, but not in the same way that it normally did, you were less alone than normal, you felt less out of place then normal.

You were silently praying that your mom got home earlier than expected, to give you the same normal, painful consistency that you were used to instead of this, instead of whatever it is that Jordan was pulling out of you.

The two of you walked back to the house in silence, once upon a time Blu would have been walking in front of you, her little legs patting across the concrete, nowadays though Blu stayed in Birmingham, with Jordan. Leah claimed she didn’t have time for a dog, it had always been Jordan’s thing though.

When you got back to the house, you collapsed down onto the sofa, flicking on a episode of love island before opening up your phone and starting to answer the multiple texts which you’d been leaving on delivered.

First, you replied to your friends, letting them know you were fine and just needed to be home before your curfew, then your mom, letting her know you were fine. Once you were finished updating all of your people, you moved onto aimlessly scrolling, flicking through different social media posts.

Jordan eventually joined you on the couch, her attention on the episode.

You didn’t miss the way her eyes would stray towards you every few seconds, darting away from the tv screen to look at you. It seemed like she was hesitating to say something, like there words on the tip of tongue that she was too scared to say. Jordan was always the silent one, even as you watched your moms relationship die out, she was always the quiet one, Leah on the other hand was always the loud one, always trying to fix problems that were unfixable.

You wanted to prompt her, ask her what her apparent problem was, but you stayed silent, muzzling yourself for the good of keeping whatever peace there was between the two of you.

PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD SEND ME YOUR PART THREE IDEAS, KEEPING IN MIND THAT LEAH POTENTIALLY FINDS OUT ABOUT RS WEED USAGE AND CONFRONTS HER ABOUT IT BUT DOESN'T KNOW ABOUT THE DRUGS

#woso #woso community #sammykworshipper thoughts #leah williamson #arsenal wfc #leah williamson x reader #jordan nobbs x reader #jordan and leah #jordan nobbs #wobbs breakup #it’s painful #i’m crying so are u #trauma dumping #pain sweet pain #woso imagine

393 notes · View notes

starstruckmiraclekitty · 9 months

Note

If you haven't already, could you do something where ghost first meets f!reader? Like super cute love story, how it began maybe also how it's going? (can include smut if you're willing love a good smut lol) I'm so down bad for the cuteness overload because I'm waiting for my own Prince Charming 😩

It was a rainy, miserable day in Manchester, and Simon was growing increasingly bored. He'd been home from deployment for a few weeks now, and the pile of books he had waiting for him at home had long been read, leaving Simon with nothing to do.

Deciding against his better judgement, Simon left the comfortable anonymity of his home, and walked to the local bookstore located two blocks from his small English flat.

It was a spot he always visited when he was home from deployment. The little old lady who owned it was always so nice to Simon, and would always set aside books she knew he'd like.

"Hey Barb." Simon greeted in his gruff British accent, smiling at the woman behind the counter as he walked in.

"There he is, I was wondering when you'd come back home, solider. Got a few books set aside for you, but we've updated our inventory, why don't you take a look around?" Barb smiled warmly at him, gesturing to the abundance of shells laid sporadically throughout the small store.

Simon nodded politely to her, a small smile dancing on his lips as he made his way to one of the shelves. The shelf he always started with, Science Fiction.

The minute his eyes landed on it, he knew he had to have it. He'd been looking for a first edition "Dune" for a long, long time, and here it was just before him. He was so tunnel visioned, so solely focused on the book, he hadn't noticed a small hand reaching for it at the same time he was.

His hand grazed the other persons, and he quickly pulled himself from his daze, looking over and finding you, and Simon could’ve sworn his heart stopped right then and there. You were the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on, and the small giggle that emitted from your lips as he stared at you caused his cheeks to burn crimson.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't notice anyone else was here." Simon murmured, his voice coming out shaky. Damnit, what the hell was wrong with him?

"Don't worry about it. I didn't notice you were going for the same book.” You replied, your cheeks now as red as his.

There was a moment of awkward silence between the two of you, your eyes still lingering on one another’s, as you were both clearly flustered in the moment.

“Uh, go ahead and take the book, it’s yours.” Simon gestured to the shelf.

“No, no it’s really okay. I’ve read the damn thing at least a half dozen times, I don’t need another copy.” You insisted, taking a step away from the shelf.

Simon grabbed the book, and handed it to you with a smile, as he slowly found his confidence. “Please, take it.”

“If you insist..Have you read it before?” You asked, your head tilting slightly in curiosity. “I’ve not met a lot of people who’ve read it.”

“Not as much as you it seems, but I’ve read it a few times. It was my moms favorite book.” Simon said sheepishly, his mind wandering to thoughts of his mother. “It’s an amazing series, I just wish I had more time to read it.”

“Not enough free time?”

“Never enough free time.” Simon chuckled.

“If that’s not relatable, I don’t know what is. I’m a teacher, over at the university. It seems the only free time I get I’m grading papers, or I’m here with Barb looking at the new books she puts out. I’m Y/N, by the way. I’ve not seen you around before.”

“Simon. I don’t come here terribly often. I'm on leave at the moment and I’m due for a book restock. Teacher huh? What do you teach?” He replied, his eyes drifting back towards yours.

“English, funny enough. So you’re a soldier then?” You asked, your interest in the handsome man before you increasing.

“Something like that.” Simon said, his insides melting as he watched you watch him intensely. Simon wasn’t good at small talk, but he was trying his hardest for you. He didn’t want this conversation to end.

The two of you continued to talk for a few more minutes, the conversation ranging from the weather, to how long the both of you had been coming to this little book store, to your shared interest of science fiction.

“Well, I hate to break this up but I’ve got class in 20 minutes and my students will never let me hear the end of it if I’m late.” You said, not wanting the conversation to end. "It was really nice talking with you."

"Yeah, you too." Simon said, his confidence wavering slightly as he failed to come up with anything else to say. He desperately wanted to ask you for number, but didn't have the nerve to do so.

"I'll ask one more time, are you sure you don't mind?" You asked, holding up the book in your hand. " I feel bad it's the only copy here."

"Of course." Simon nodded, scratching the back of his head nervously. "Besides, it's probably better off in your hands. I'd honestly never get around to reading it, so it'd be more of a table piece."

You nodded, flashing him a warm smile. "Well it was lovely meeting you, Simon. I really hope to see you around here soon."

"I'd like that." Simon agreed, watching as you walked to the front, the smile on his face not faltering in the slightest.

Simon continued to stroll amongst the shelves, nothing quite catching his eye as his thoughts drifted back to you. He regretted not getting your number, and letting his nerves get the better of him. He could only hope that he'd see you in here again. Perhaps he'd make a few more trips here before his next deployment.

He made his way back up to the desk, anxious to see what books Barb had set aside for him. She always knew just the right books for him.

"The woman that was just here left you this." Barb said, passing something to Simon, a knowing smile touching her lips. "Seems you've made quite the impression on our little English teacher."

Simon looked down at the counter, and saw the book he thought you'd left with, and found a small note attached to the front. 'Enjoy the table piece. If you’re interested, I’d love to discuss the book over a tea- Y/N' Simon felt his heart flutter as he re-read your note over and over, his eyes falling to your phone number, neatly written at the bottom of the note.

"Sounds to me like you've got yourself a date, young man." Barb said, meeting Simons eyes with a smile.

"I believe I do." Simon replied, fumbling to put your number in his phone. And he couldn't fucking wait.

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

A/N: Planning on making this a multi parter? Or just leaving as is- I've not decided yet.

#simon riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #cod imagine #mw2 imagine #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley mw2 #simon riley fluff #simon ghost x reader #ghost imagine

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lol-im-done · 6 months

Text

First Lady of Panem

Pairing: Young!Coriolanus Snow x Fem!Reader

Series Summary: When your family arrived to the Capitol from District Ten to secure their place as one of the most prominent and wealthy families of Panem you could have never dreamed fate would lead you into the arms of Coriolanus Snow. Falling in love was easy, watching him become President and becoming First Lady of Panem at his side would test your limits. Panem's history would forever be changed by this union.

AO3 Link

Author's Note: TW & Tags will be updated as each chapter comes out, first chapter is just to set up the story & characters. Enjoy!

Chapter 1: Sky Blue Eyes

Those bluebonnets how sweetly they grow

For all the wide prairies they're scattered like snow

They make all the meadows as blue as the skies

Reminding me of my darlings blue eyes

The cow-filled prairies shifted to mountains signaling the train's entrance into District Two as you hummed to the tune of an old song from before Panem’s creation. The sprawling grass sea of District Ten, of your home, disappeared in the distance as you made your way to the heart of Panem.

“Darling, are you listening to me?”

Lifting your head from the rattling window you turned to see your mother looking at you with soft concern.

“Sorry Mama, what were you asking?”

Her hand smoothed over your younger sister Mellona’s curls, making her nuzzle deeper into her side. “I was asking if you were hungry so I could order lunch.”

“That would be nice Mama. Thank you.”

“Alright, call for Agnes if you need anything she’s in the next car,” your mother stands, lays a snoozing Mellona down, before making her way to the dining car.

“Homesick already?” Victoriosa, the eldest, asks from the chaise never taking her eyes off the magazine in her hands.

“Is it that obvious?”

“We always knew we’d have to move to the Capitol.”

“Why now? I thought at least another year or two,” you asked, sinking into the plush leather seat. Victoriosa pauses, looks up at you and for an instant you can see your father’s intense expression staring back at you.

“Papa wants to finally establish himself as a prominent figure in the Capitol. He needs Capitol support if he is to fully absorb the rest of the ranches, you know that,” she states. “This is also our opportunity to reach our full potential, choose our own paths. Once you finish your career you can always return to Ten if you wish but that would be a waste,” she returns to flipping through her magazine.

“Silva, what do you think?” you turn to your only brother who is seated next to you.

He gives a short shrug. “I don’t mind it much as long as I can continue my research,” Silva sighs from behind his thick textbook.

Victoriosa tilts her lithe neck backwards, “Yawnnnnn.” A snort leaves your lips and you’re grateful your mother isn’t nearby to reprimand you for your ‘unladylike’ behavior.

“Biodiversity is the pinnacle of our success as cattle breeders!” Silva scowls.

“I thought you’d be missing a certain milkmaid Carpathia,” Victoriosa smirks and a wild blush spreads under Silva’s glasses.

“Oh like you’ll be missing your ranch hand Bronco,” Silva snaps back.

“There’s always summertime. Plenty of time to catch up,” Victoriosa grins like the cat who got the cream. The three of you burst into a fit of giggles right as Mellona groggily rouses from her nap.

“Are we there yet?”

Another burst of laughter fills the private train car.

It would only take a few more hours before you arrived at the Capitol train station, nightfall falling over the city. Unlike District Ten, not all the stars were visible, the Capitol’s bright lights polluting the sky. Peacekeepers were already stationed to help move all the luggage into the waiting line of cars. Driving through the streets towards your new home, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe at the statues in the squares and the towering buildings. Most of all you were excited to finally see your father, it had been almost a month since you had seen him last.

“Papa!”

All of you crashed into Alicio Lupus’ awaiting arms, his rumbling chuckle bouncing off the high marble ceilings of the penthouse. Refugio joins in on the hug with teary eyes, reaching up to press a kiss on her beloved husband’s cheek.

“Welcome home my darlings,” he squeezes you all tighter. Any fear you held disappeared in an instant, as long as you had your family by your side, all would be well.

The first few weeks in the Capitol had been a whirlwind- meeting other Capitol families for dinner, registration for coveted internships and school courses, and endless shopping trips to assure your home and wardrobes were up to Capitol standards. Refugio Lupus wanted only the best for her children, which included constantly coaching you all to leave behind the District Ten accent that made certain words in your vocabulary drawl.

After dinner one day you thought you had finally caught a moment of peace before a knock at your door startled you from your book. Agnes, your family's nanny, rolled in a rack of dresses with Victoriosa in tow. Victoriosa was already dressed in a sleek blood red dress with a mink shawl wrapped around her shoulders.

“What’s all this?”

“We’ve been invited to a soirée to commemorate the end of the 13th Hunger Games. Papa thinks it’s a good chance to introduce us to others in the Capitol’s high society,” Victoriosa swept her arm towards the rack of glittering and ruffled dresses. Nerves made your stomach churn, mouth turning downwards into a frown as you remembered people’s faces this past week when it was revealed you had recently arrived from District Ten. Most look startled before looking at you like you were some exotic bird at the zoo.

“They’ll never accept us.”

A prideful look crossed her face, so similar to your father’s. No wonder your mother said they were cut from the same stone. “They will once we show them we are as refined as they are. As long as you lose that accent of yours you’ll blend in like a wolf in sheep’s clothing,” she grinned, canines glinting in the light of the chandelier. Rolling your eyes you step over to the rack, feeling the fabrics under your fingers. Stopping at a silver dress, the sequins twinkled like stars entrancing you. Agnes helped dress you before getting to work on sweeping your hair up into a fashionable updo. You waved away the highly pigmented makeup, not ready to delve into that side of Capitol fashion quite yet.

“Remember you’re a Lupus. We’re wolves among sheep,” Victoriosa pinches your cheek. The usual calluses that adorned her hands were gone, chemical treatments making them a long forgotten memory.

Wolves among sheep.

Victoriosa’s words replay through your head like a mantra as you step into the grand ballroom behind her and your father. Thankfully your sister was a gifted extrovert, introducing you to the friends she had already made. Soon you found yourself surrounded by members of the new Gamemaker class, a glass of posca in your hand. It took some time but slowly your shoulders loosened and your smile widened, confidence making you stand a bit taller.

Across the ballroom, Coriolanus Snow was repeating his own mantra to himself- Snow always lands on top. A reminder that showing up for another Capitol soirée wasn’t simply a waste of time but another way to show all these sycophants how high he had made it. Now heir to the Plinth fortune he was dressed impeccably. Tigris had helped style him, no more handmade shirts, and the final touch- Grandma’am’s rose pinned to his lapel. Like at most parties he was surrounded by his former classmates who were all desperate to remain in his inner circle- he was an esteemed Gamemaker after all. A glimmer in the distance caught his eye, distracting him from the meaningless chatter before him. He recognized the group as intern Gamemakers but not the young woman, fresh faced and glowing in the candlelight.

“Who is that?” Coriolanus feigned nonchalance as he tilted his head towards her.

Festus Creed followed his gaze, “Don’t you know?”

“How could he know? The Lupus Family only recently decided to establish here in the Capitol,” Pup Harrington said in between bites of hors d'oeuvres. The name rang a bell, stories and information from his various connections coming to mind.

“I believe that’s (Y/N) Lupus. I saw her the other day with her father, Alicio Lupus, at my mother’s bank” Livia Cardew said, inching closer to Coriolanus. “They practically own all the ranches in District Ten, Alicio Lupus’ brother is the Mayor of the District,” Livia whispered, lips coming close to his ear. Festus and Pup exchange an eye roll at her shamelessness and Coriolanus resisted the urge to shrug her off. Offending a Cardew would never bode well.

“She’s district, probably going back and forth from Ten to the Capitol like one of her family’s pigs,” Livia giggled, but it sounded like grating metal in Coriolanus’ ears.

“Don’t forget cows! Oh Panem, I dream about those steaks-,” Pup practically salivated.

“Imagine living all your life in that District, like poor Sejanus,” Festus tutted. Coriolanus immediately bristled at the mention of Sejanus, his icy blue eyes darkening like an impending storm. Festus must have realized his mistake because his eyes widened, apology on the tip of his tongue before Coriolanus cut him off.

“I should go make her acquaintance then,” he announces, ignoring Livia’s scowl. It was an opportune moment he thought as you now stood by the bar alone. Perhaps you would be desperate enough to try and get in his good graces, and offer to introduce him to your father. Coriolanus would be a fool not to recognize the Lupus family’s wealth and influence, they kept the Districts fed and the Capitol fat. Any potential relationship he could make was more support he could need when he would take a position in the Government.

As you took another swig of posca, you thought you had managed to escape more social interactions for the night until a voice made you jump.

“Hello, I’m Coriolanus Snow. Welcome to the Capitol.”

Turning around you looked up at the man’s captivating eyes, as blue as the sky back home. His pink lips curled slightly at the ends as if he was holding in a secret. Blonde hair pushed back in a neat fashion, accentuating his cheekbones. For a moment you were speechless. Remembering yourself, you gave him your name but you had a feeling he already knew it.

“Pleasure to meet you Coriolanus Snow.”

His stomach swooped. Coriolanus swore he heard a familiar lilt in your voice, but it was not as strong as Lucy Gray’s and those in District Twelve. No, yours was smoother and made your pronunciation of his name sound like it was dipped in warm honey.

“How are you finding the Capitol?”, he forces himself to ask, to ignore those dangerous thoughts.

“It's something...definitely not like back home,” you look around at the extravagant decor.

“Ah yes, District Ten. I’ve never made my way there but I’ve heard wonderful things,” the lie flows smoothly past his lips. “How grateful you must feel to finally be brought to us.”

Coriolanus would never miss a chance at making anyone District born feel inferior, all the posca he had been drinking making him loose lipped tonight. Indignation made your hands tingle, but you took a deep breath and clenched the glass tighter in your hands to ground you.

“I’m surprised you weren’t assigned there as a Peacekeeper. I suppose wherever the songbird called from you followed,” you replied, taking a demure sip from your glass, relishing in the way his jaw tensed. You knew who he was, his story with Lucy Gray Baird. Victoriosa had heard it all from a friend and had no qualms in passing the gossip down to you. If he was going to throw thinly veiled insults you’d have to show him you wouldn’t take them lying down.

“There’s that famous Lupus bite I’ve heard about,” he grins, taking a step closer to you. The scent of roses fills your nose, the sudden proximity to him making a blush rise up your neck. His hand reached out, moving to push a piece of hair behind your ear but the moment was broken when Victoriosa called out for you, pointing to your father who was making his way out the doors.

“If you’ll excuse me it’s time for me to get home. I’m sure our paths will cross again,” you murmured softly, dipping your head in farewell. Coriolanus stepped back with a slight bow, eyes never straying from your figure as you sauntered away. Oh yes, like two stars crossing in the night sky, you would meet again. Coriolanus would make sure of it.

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #tbosas

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vetteltea · 5 months

Text

Love Will Always Show | CL16 & CS55

Summary: The choice of a lifetime is yours to make, your husband and lover both longing for your heart. They face conflict, choices and most importantly, one another.

Word Count: 8.4K [& a bit more]

Warnings: angst, mentions of cheating and dishonesty, manipulation, hospital talk.

Note: The fact I was a newbie to F1Blr when this started and now...here we are. I want to thank each and EVERY person who has ever read this series. It's changed everything for me, it is truly my love letter to you all and I hope you enjoy the finale. You are all forever in my heart and I cannot thank you all enough.

PART 1: A House, A Home | PART 2: Where Do We Go? | PART 3: ‘You Think, You Know’ | PART 4: 'Love Will Always Show'

Love is a gentle hand cradling your back.

Time had suspended when your body had collapsed onto the rough floor outside of the Scuderia Ferrari hospitality. Immediately, several scarlet-clad personnel were running over, shouts echoing across the open space, somebody mumbling that they needed to get you somewhere safe and warm before your body temperature dropped dangerously.

There’s a question of who to call; your father wasn’t in the country, ever since your mother’s funeral, he’s become silent, your siblings having been lovingly sent to stay with a close aunt. He had been absent from the previous Ferrari meeting, his assistant having sent a message to say he would be absent for a little longer. Clearly, the death of your mother was taking a toll.

The next obvious choice of course, was your husband. However, with the win that he had been craving for oh-so-long, he was currently wrapped up in press, endless ‘congratulations’ messages from celebrities and presenters alike. Nobody would know where to find the monegasqué right now, let alone how to tell him of his wife’s status whilst surrounded by endless television cameras and sly reporters.

There’s no need for him, anyway. Leaving the media pen after vigorous questioning of his loyalty to the team and his current emotions on a premature end to the race, Carlos’ dark eyes quirk to the side, registering the crowd of bodies circling the hospitality area. They only widen when the realization dawns on his clouded mind that it’s you, your body is the one thing they are all crowding around.

His steps break into a run, no signal being given to his media manager nor his cousin. He speaks a few sharp, spanish words, creating a break in the circle, able to insert his toned body into the sea of red, immediately squatting, one hand coming out to elevate the back of your head. He knows how particular you could be with your hair, how you insisted on now sleeping on silk pillowcases to keep it healthy. Asphalt ground was not comfortable nor hygienic.

There’s talk; talk about whether to take you to the hospital, whether to wait for your husband to return and make the decision. Carlos feels his blood curdle at the use of marital status. His teammate, the man who had treated you no better than the way he had treated bonds of trust, was the one to make a choice of your health and wellbeing.

He simply cannot stand for that.

“We need to take her to the hospital.” He interrupts the commotion, the strong tone settling over the panicked employees. “Surely that is the best place for her if she is unconscious, no?” The whispers and mumbles which echo the surrounding members of the team signify agreement.

There’s a discussion of how to bring you in without drawing attention to the media. Surely, if a giant ambulance or even a medical car was to storm through the paddock, no doubt endless media outlets would be creating headlines before even bothering to speak to anybody present. The Spaniard is already making his own choice, using his arms to gently adjust your body.

He shouldn’t; he really shouldn’t be moving you, not when you haven’t been checked for broken bones or concussion. Yet, the idea of the most beautiful girl, Mariposa, lying on a hard floor with no form of comfort or safety sickens him to his stomach. Carlos is still gentle with the movements, letting your head lean into his stomach, one hand is supporting your back, tanned fingers digging gentle patterns into the curve of your skin. The other one traces once, twice, three times around your cheekbone, dark eyes transfixed on your features.

You must have hit your skin when falling to the ground; there’s a graze dancing across your cheekbone, specks of dirt resting in between each knock. The man cradling you is gentle, moving his shirt just enough up his body that he’s able to take the hemmed end, feather it across your cheek in an attempt to remove the offending chunks.

Someone nudges Carlos’s shoulder, more in an attempt to tell him somebody was just outside the Paddock; that they could drive you to the hospital right now. He…he can’t bring himself to leave you. A strong grasp lifts you from the ground, holding you close to his chest, murmuring that he would get you there, and he supposed somebody would have to find Charles.

The area grows quiet; Carlos’ pace draws away from the Paddock and to the back entry. He was thankful that the entirety of the drivers were still either trapped in the media or with their own teams, celebrating or commiserating. He had enough of that for one day; an entire six laps was barely worth speaking about.

You’re still unconscious, still limp in his arms. However, there’s a rise and fall of your chest, you’re still breathing. That’s all he could ask for at this present time. He silently promises himself there and then that when you wake up, he’s making his final move. Where Charles has been playing chequers, he is playing chess; he had proven that even whilst you were stuck with your estranged husband, he would love you regardless.

There’s a people carrier in the car park, he’s certain he’s seen various drivers use it before; a built-in stretcher lies in the back, it’s ideally a discreet ambulance. The media could be brutal with gossiping when any driver had to leave the track. It would look worse if Charles Leclerc’s wife was seen leaving the paddock with his teammate. The driver of the vehicle nods when seeing the two get closer, stepping to sit in the driver’s seat whilst Carlos adjusted his grasp.

He lays you down onto the stretcher; it’s secured, you’ll be safe for the drive. The man can’t help but feel a draw of protectiveness over you. What on earth had caused it to collapse? Had he done something? Blood boiled, if your husband had done anything to cause this, he could personally guarantee that Charles would not be finishing any races for the remainder of the season. He would make sure of that.

His attention is caught by the glimmer of silver on your left hand; your wedding band. When he reaches the car, tucks you into the seat carefully and makes sure the seatbelt is secure around your frame, his fingers glide over your hand, removing the band and putting it in his own pocket.

‘It’s for your own good,’ he tells himself. ‘If your fingers swell up, they may need to cut it off.’ He could tell himself this story a thousand times; it doesn't hide the fact that his true intention in this moment is simple; for once, he could be the devoted husband, taking his wife to be nursed back to health.

The Spainard leans down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your forehead, murmuring that you were going to be okay, that he would stay with you the entire time. The driver shouts, telling him to take a seat so they could get there before the press figured out something was wrong. He kisses your skin once more, before closing the doors, sprinting to the backseat, throwing his body in carelessly.

Angst overtakes his senses, shouting at the driver to start the car, he doesn't care about being strapped in. This way, he’s able to lean over the backseat, one hand reaching out to clasp at your own. You need to know that somebody is there, that he is there for you. He’s always been there for you. The car pivots out of the parking space, beeling for the main road and to the hospital.

Love is a scream for your name.

“Charles, tu dois ralenir!” Joris is insisting he needs to slow down the car; turning the current Leclerc in hospital into a duo would not be a satisfying outcome.

Ever since he’s been told, all your husband can see is red mist. One Ferrari employee had sprinted up to him whilst he was in the midst of cameras, the grin on his face as he’s finally able to seek his wife out, wanting nothing more than to skip on the Scuderia celebrations and take you instead, your beaming smile radiating the energy he had been bathed in.

It’s funny how life can change in the matter of a few moments; one second, he’s on top of the world, the next, Charles is pushing through every media outlet, fan and celebrity, barging himself into his driver’s room. He doesn't have time to remove his fireproofs, to pick up any of his belongings apart from his car keys. He isn’t communicating, french profanities fall from his lips, shaking his head in rage that nobody could find him to tell him. Tell him that his wife had been taken to hospital.

Joris had been the one to sprint after him; he knew better than most, when Charles saw nothing but mist, there was no getting to him, not whilst he was determined to do something. The driver knew in his heart his best friend was not to blame; after all, he had no idea of your disappearance, he had been with Charles almost the entire time. And yet…he can’t bring himself to even speak to Joris. Not until the duo make it to his rented car, Charles is adamant he is driving.

He only starts speaking when his best friend tells him to slow down. The driver barely does, only drawing to a slower pace when he sees the traffic lights start to build in front of him. Even in a panic, he respects road rulings. Drawing to a stop, the man finally has a second to take a shaky, unbalanced breath, angry tears pooling at the bottom of his eyes.

“Why did nobody tell me my wife was at the hospital?” His voice is strained, he’s clearly holding back tears, whether they’re angry or fearful is a different question. “She’s my- she’s my wife!” He can’t stop repeating it, as if it’s a prayer. His wife. His wife.

“She’ll be okay.” Joris knows that’s quite possibly the worst thing he could say to his best friend, but it’s the only thing he can bring himself to say. “She will be. C’est juste par précaution.”

“Putain!” Charles’ words are sharp, immediately pressing on the acceleration as the light switches to green, overtaking three cars in a matter of moments. He’s a man of regret, he has been ever since he realized how much he adores you. In that moment, he can’t help but think of everything he could have done differently that afternoon. He could have come and found you right after the podium, could have given you his jacket and told you to stay in his driver’s room, he would come and get you after. He could- he could of-

He could of waited with you after the funeral. He could have come and picked you up from Milan when you went to spend time with Carlos. He could have deleted his mistress’ number, and told her he was married.

“Tourner à gauche.” Joris tells his best friend to turn left, the Hospital Car Park coming into view. Charles turns the car, immediately eyes are roaming for any space, anywhere he could put the car. A sharp whistle and point from his best friend shows him a space right by the Emergency Department, parking the vehicle in possibly the worst way he ever has done. Within three seconds, the engine is switched off, seatbelts are unbuckled, and he’s shouting to Joris to pay for the parking, he needs to get inside.

For a driver, his sense of direction is becoming worse. It takes him a solid minute to read a sign, before his legs break into a sprint, skidding into a bustling Emergency Room. There’s old men, leant over in pain, convinced they’re dying. A child snuffling, masses of paper towels on her head. A woman with a twisted ankle, her attention engrossed by the magazine in her grasp. It smells of hand sanitiser and bleach, the yellow walls are hurting his eyes.

A woman behind the desk taps the counter, drawing his attention. “Hey- Sir!” She snaps. You can’t blame her; it’s hour thirteen of her fifteen hour shift. “You can’t be in here unless you’re hurt-”

He shouts your name. It’s as if he completely forgets he’s in a building. Charles is embedded in a maze, even if a lady in front of him can pull up your immediate location, he needs to find you himself, and he needs to find you now.

It isn’t until Joris comes in, having heard his best friend scream your name, that he overtakes Charles so overcome that he’s now hiding his head in his hands, unable to say anything that wasn’t your name. His ears prick up when the second man starts speaking, giving the woman your first name, your last name- Leclerc- and when you had been bought in. There’s a light tapping of the keyboard, she tells Joris you are in the department round the corner, room ten-

Charles is gone before she can finish her sentence, catapulting down the hallway, dodging round endless people, frantically searching for doors with numbers, not names. He sees the number four. Six. Eight.

Number Ten rolls into view. Without a single word, his hand latches around the door handle, pushing so violently the door smacks onto the inside wall. His eyes immediately fly to the bed, you’re lying there, so unconscious, still so beautiful, some strips over the graze on your cheek. Still, arms to either side, one hand connected to an IV, clearly in an attempt to rehydrate you. His first question is the location of your wedding ring, where on earth was it? Has it been taken away? It’s a question he completely forgets about when his gaze travels further.

The other hand is being held by a Spanish man he knows all too much about.

Love is notes left on a coffee cup.

Both men stood, silently hovering over your body whilst the nurse came in to run a course of tests, check your blood pressure, the IV line, make sure you were being cared for in the best capacity. Each held a coffee cup, Charles’ still primarily full, he couldn’t stomach anything; he felt sick from seeing you lie here, not laughing, smiling, speaking. Carlos had downed the drink bought in by Joris in a matter of moments; to him, it was fuel. Something to keep him awake until you woke up.

Whilst Charles was the one to ask questions; ‘Do you know what caused this? Is she going to have any long-term issues? Does she need any assistance when she wakes up?’ Carlos has captured the marker which has rested alongside the clipboard of your notes, his tongue poked out in concentration. The marker grazes along the cup, leaving a note, drawing a tiny picture of a butterfly- Mariposa- and placing the cup on your table, a silent message for if you woke up and god forbid- he wasn’t there.

The nurse draws away from your body, diverting her next task to the two men.

“I need to continue the examination but…” She looks to the door. “I cannot have you both in here. You need to wait outside, the Doctor will come in for further tests-”

“Can one of us wait here?” Carlos is the first to interrupt, the look on the woman’s face tells him he’s made a mistake.

“Both.” She clarifies, pointing at himself, then at his teammate. “One and two. You need to wait outside. If she wakes up or there’s any…issues, we will let you know.”

It turns out, both men are hesitant to leave you; Charles moves first, crouching by your side, running a gentle hand over your hairline, pressing his lips carefully to your temple. He’s murmuring, french words of adoration and comfort, that he will be right there when you need him.

When one steps away, the other comes forward. Carlos doesn't say anything, instead tracing a gentle finger across your cheek. His touch tells you everything, it speaks volumes. He loves you, he’ll be outside, don’t be afraid to come running into his arms like you had done once before. The nurse begins to lose her patience, ushering both men out into the corridor, telling them to sit in the plastic chairs provided or go somewhere else; she really didn’t care.

The scene is reminiscent of two boys sitting outside of the principal’s office; Charles’ head hides in his hands, leaning forward, still dressed in his fireproofs. He’s tied the sleeves around his waist, the dark undershirt now drenched in sweat from the driving, both on track and to the hospital.

He feels movement next to him, Carlos’ hand dips into his pocket, pulling out something small, silvery. Her wedding ring. He supposes Carlos means it as a sign of goodwill, that he kept it safe. In the Monégasques mind, it’s the fuel to light the fire. Scoffing, he snatches the jewelry off of his teammate, placing the band onto his pinky finger, it’s the only one it would fit on, the only way he could keep it safe.

“Funny. You took it off her.” He’s growing mad, aggravated that Carlos wouldn’t just go away and leave him and his wife alone. Hadn’t he done enough already? “Why don’t you go back to Natasha?” The blonde ex-media woman for their team is referenced. Carlos opens his mouth, ready to snap back, it was a low blow for Charles to reference his history with the woman.

“I know what you did.” He huffs. There’s something…different. Different in the way he speaks to Carlos now compared to every other day. The polite, civil conversation is gone, the fact he couldn’t pass judgment because of his own actions has evaporated. “I know you invited her to Madrid just to make a move.” He remembers seeing the instagram stories, how your eyes were wide, full of life. He made you remember life is beautiful. “You kept her close. You wanted her and didn’t like that she was mine.”

“Yours?” He scoffs. “She’s not your property, Charles.”

“No. But she’s my wife. I’m the one she lies next to every night, I’m the one who will care for her in sickness and health, who’s shoulder was leant on through every bad time.” He pauses. “Who picked her up after you coaxed her into your bed.” He laughs. Actually, laughs. The memory replayed in his head, how sleepy you looked as he guided you back into the SUV, how your heart sank when seeing the blonde approach his front door. In that moment, you had convinced yourself you meant nothing to Carlos apart from lust.

Charles was a jealous man; he had taken pride in stripping off his teammates' clothing, wrapping you in his own, soft hoodie. You were his. Carlos wouldn’t care for you the way he did, he was a man too full of lust. He was convinced the Spainard didn’t make you laugh, didn’t make you smile, didn’t make you come-

“You corrupted her, Carlos.” He finishes. “I know what you did-”

“-And I know what you did.” Carlos snarls. He doesn't care about anything more; he knows all too well that his teammate could go crying to the Ferrari bosses, have him removed from the team in a blink of an eye, throwing some false information out which he would have to comply with. But he doesn't care. His affection has grown too strong for that.

“I know everything, Charles.” He’s monotone, he’s stating facts. “I know how she waited at home for you on her birthday, whilst you were in your mistress’ bed.” Carlos remembers asking you about your plans the previous week, how you had brushed them off. “I know how she made you dinner every night, how you refused to eat it.” Charles feels his stomach drop, the endless leftovers stacked neatly in the fridge, the meals he had never bothered to try. “I know on your wedding night, you came into the hotel room drunk, covered in bites and she slept on the sofa-”

“Enough!” Charles’ voice shouts, standing up from the plastic chair in the corridor. He doesn't have to hear this, he can’t bear to hear this. One mistake a day was something he was always able to brush off. Hearing each and every one of his infidelities laid out in front of him sent his mind into overdrive. “You have no right to comment on-”

“On what?” The Spainard is standing up now, chest out and arms folded. “On your marriage?” He laughs, he smirks. “Can you call it that? A marriage is a bond between two people who love one another-”

“I love her!” Charles cuts him off, stepping closer. “I love her.” He repeats himself. Carlos looks gobsmacked, shaking his head in denial.

“You have a really weird way of showing her you love her.” He continues to poke, to prod. “Sharing a bed with another woman is not how you show love-”

“I admitted to my mistakes!” He’s quick to defend himself, how the restraining order was placed and a lawsuit filed, how he promised if you wanted to know anything, see anything, he would let you. How he would spend the rest of his days always feeling dread and regret. “I fixed them-”

“Who says she still loves you?” Carlos has snapped.

Charles hates to admit that he may be right. Is it really fair for him to expect your love after everything that has happened in the past year? It didn’t matter how many times he begged, he pleaded or promised. The man you had married had spent the better part of 365 days in the arms of another woman, a woman that as he stood here, clinging onto any hope of his marriage, meant absolutely nothing to him.

His slim fingers trail down, circling the cool band which rested on his left finger. He had decided there and then, he would keep it on, always. There would be no more reasoning, none. If Lewis could wear his earrings, Charles would wear his wedding ring. He looks back up, Carlos still boring into him with dark eyes, the anger he radiated almost entirely visible.

“Do you love her?” He presses. He needs to know; he doesn't bring himself to care that you had spent a night in his arms, not when he had done it to you a thousand times over. The idea makes him sick, but nothing compared to the idea that you are in love with somebody that isn’t him, not when he needs nothing but for you to come home, back to your home with him.

Charles swears he feels vomit rise into his mouth when Carlos nods. He’s not stupid, not really. He knows how he fell for you properly in the past few weeks, how for Carlos who has been in awe of your affection and attention, the center of every race weekend you had reluctantly attended. It may have been to support him, but you could still enjoy the fact that Carlos would be there, too.

Your husband isn’t sure what he wants to do anymore. If there wasn’t an examination happening, he would have run into your private room and locked the door. Instead, his glassy eyes gaze up, catching Carlos’ dark ones. It hits him at once; his teammate, somebody who he once considered a close- no, best friend, was the one who had taken his wife away from him. His brain can’t catch up with his body movements, the red mist clouds over once more.

Charles Leclerc punches Carlos Sainz in the nose.

He doesn't intend for it to be a strong punch; Formula One drivers are a lot stronger than they realize, and the contact not only causes the Spaniard to knock back, shouting out in pain, but a sharp sensation rockets through Charles’ clenched fist, wiggling his fingers as they relax. Carlos’ nose is immediately red, becoming scarlet by the moment, though no blood has fallen. Your husband’s immediate reaction is ‘Should have punched him harder.’

He doesn't have time to think about anything else, not before he has two strong hands on his chest, shoving him harshly. The sudden sensation causes him to lose balance, falling to the floor and landing on his back. A shock radiates through his body, Carlos looming over him, clearly ready for a second punch.

That thought is drawn away when the door to your room opens, both men immediately staring at the nurse, her hair worn and eyes tired. Before either man can throw a question at her, she speaks.

“She’s still not awake, we’re going to bring her around in an hour, but she’s going to have to stay overnight for observation. If one of you could get her some overnight things-”

“I can.” Charles immediately cuts off the nurse, pulling himself to sit up and stand from the floor. “I’m her husband. I will get them.” It’s a subtle jab to the man in front of him, Carlos still holding his nose, convinced it was about to start bleeding any moment. He would have gone and sought out attention for himself, if he hadn’t felt a sharp vibration in his back pocket, a phone call. In any other time, he would have ignored it. But he knows who it is, he knows how important it is.

Without a word, Carlos answers the call, rapidly speaking in Spanish as he walks down the hall.

Love is a pocket square at the bottom of a suitcase.

The contrast of Charles leaving the hospital was night and day to him arriving. He hadn’t spoken a word to Joris, apart from expressing that he needed to go back to the hotel to get your overnight items. Although it was barely a ten minute drive away, every minute felt like a century; he wanted nothing more than to go back to the hotel, sit by your side and hold your hand until you woke up.

He could have sent Joris back, given him the room key and told him to grab some things, but it didn’t seem right. The idea of his best friend going through your suitcase didn’t sit comfortably with him. Moreover, he didn’t know. Charles knew; he knew what pajamas you found the most comfortable, what outfit would be easiest for you to travel back in, how you wanted your panties and socks paired together and how your phone charger had to loop clockwise.

The ornate hotel room looks dull without you; your suitcase still rests in the bottom of the wardrobe; you had hung up evening wear, dresses for the inevitable after-parties. Folded in your suitcase remained your other clothing. Charles is quick to select his items; the tropical cotton pajamas. You had bought him a pair in the same fabric, telling him that they would be the comfiest thing to sleep in. Your stitched jumper and comfiest jeans. You had worn those jeans when you had tagged along to his photoshoot for the Ferrari livery, holding his water and the APM Monaco jewelry he couldn’t wear. Your outrageously expensive hairbrush. You had brushed his hair through after a particularly bad race, whispering promises that it would get better, that the car was going to evolve for him, the best driver on the grid.

Bile rises to Charles’ stomach and with no warning, he sprints to the bathroom, dropping to his knees by the toilet and throwing up the barely-there contents of his stomach. He had barely eaten, barely drank any water, but couldn’t help the sickness in his tummy.

He pulls away from the toilet basin, eyes watery, breath trying to catch up with the speed and cries.

Charles doesn't realize it’s happening at first, he hasn’t cried like this in so long; the kind of crying where you can’t fathom words, you don’t make a sound because you’re crying so deeply. The kind where your chest is exploding and your heart feels like it’s going to explode. The kind where all he wants is for his mother to cradle him like she did when he was five, run her hands through his hair and whisper him words of comfort.

This time, he doesn't want his mother, he wants you.

It’s selfish, it’s so incredibly selfish and it hurts to know that it’s taken him until now to realize what you mean to him. It would never happen, but his wound-up head can only close his eyes and visualize you running in, pulling his head into your chest and running your hands through his dark tufts, pressing cool lips to his forehead and promising him over and over that it was going to be okay. You were going to be okay.

He lets himself cry for five minutes; he times it because he wants to collect your things and make his way back, Joris was waiting in the car. When the five minutes are over, he pinches his nose, taking short, ugly gasps until his eyes remain bloodshot but not blurred. The sound of the toilet flushing echoes through the hotel room, making his way out of the bathroom and to the items he had hurriedly dropped atop of your suitcase.

Nimble fingers cradle each item, carefully rolling and tucking them into a pillowcase; he didn’t have a bag big enough to suffice each item and couldn’t bring himself to bring your entire suitcase along, it almost seemed as if once you had it, you could disappear from his life. At least this way, he could have one final farewell if you chose to leave. The items are almost secure, until his grip on the pillowcase folds, glassed eyes catching a glimmer of blue hidden at the bottom of the case. With no hesitation, he pulls on the fabric. His heart drops on the realization of the item.

It’s a pocket square. More specifically, it’s his pocket square from your wedding.

You don’t know when you had started packing it, but you supposed it was from your mother’s own doings. After her wedding to your father, she had always carried around her ‘something blue,’ as a gesture of good luck, of safety. After the first time you had found out about Charles’ mistress, you had discreetly tucked the fabric into your bag, carrying it around, a silent hope your husband would return to you.

It hadn’t worked in Jeddah. In Imola. In Spa. In Monaco. You had reluctantly taken it from your bag one evening, on the plane home from consoling your family, using your pen to doodle in the very corner ‘Mr and Mrs Leclerc,’ a silent fantasy of the loving marriage you had dreamed of.

That night was the first time you and Charles ever shared a bed.

The fabric lingers between his fingers, the blue contrasting against the silver of your ring, still resting on his pinky finger. Now changed into his own clothes, he slides the ring off, wrapping it gently in the pocket square and sliding it into his trouser pocket. As he does, he recognises your handwriting, the titles printed in the bottom of the fabric.

He can’t help the tears rolling down his cheeks once again.

Love is a desperate telephone call.

Carlos is still pacing around the outside courtyard of the hospital, having been on hold for a grand total of seventeen minutes. He is not a man of patience, he is not a man of quiet.

The phone buzzing in the corridor had been a welcome call, despite the situation. His lawyer, finally ringing him back after what felt like days of apprehension. He had dipped from the public eye to try and grab hold of some privacy, slipping in his wireless headphone so as not to hold the device to his ear for hours upon hours.

Almost thirty minutes ago, his lawyer had called him, confirming his thoughts of the previous days.

"You're not wrong." His lawyer has already clarified it once, twice, three times. "If there is evidence beyond a shadow of a doubt, then it is the correct term for a divorce.

Carlos feels his blood run cold. He loves her, he's as certain as that as he is of the fact that the sky is blue and his win in Silverstone. The man wants nothing more than to make her feel cherished, adored. Taking a bite out of his teammate was just a bonus feature.

That had been a few days ago, when the anger had surpassed him after Natasha’s return, how that made him look as bad, if not worse than Charles. He’d immediately sent her packing, blocked her on every form of media, gone as far as to insist if she ever came for a visit, he wouldn’t be present.

The second part, the evidence, had been laid out all too perfectly.

The line suddenly clicks, signaling his lawyer had returned. Carlos doesn't wait for a verbal queue, the audible sign of his return is more than enough.

“Do you have it?” He asks, barely any time to let the man on the other end of the phone respond. “You must have it, no? It should have been sent. I made sure it was sent.”

“I have it.” He clarifies. “I have them right here.” A rustle of paper is heard from the other end of the telephone, content of an envelope being spilled onto his desk. “Are you sure you want me to send these to be confirmed as evidence? That the women in the photographs will not retaliate?”

Carlos had not been entirely honest with you. Not about his knowledge of Charles’ situation. Ever since the confession all those months ago, the understanding that you knew of Charles’ affair, he had been playing a long, patient game. He had photographs, evidence of the mistress’ appearance at each paddock, her arms snaking around Charles’ body, kisses between the duo. How he could continue to do so, whilst you, the epitome of beauty, sat in his drivers’ room, playing the doting wife. At one point, he had considered going directly to the press, directly to Ferrari themselves to out their ‘Golden Boy.’

And then…he had seen you with him in the Paddock that one race, looking through the window of his driver’s room. How your fingers latched onto one another, how genuinely shattered you looked when she had shown up yet again, lingering outside of the hospitality area. The guilt snuck through him, how he had seen her arrive, and yet failed to mention to you, give you any warning of her presence.

Even if he had been the one to invite her. Even if he had been the one to press her about sending the photographs to Charles, not blackmail. Merely a reminder of his actions, how much he supposedly missed his mistress.

“She wouldn’t.” He’s quick to respond. “She wouldn’t care.” He’s not wrong, his mistress being in the limelight would only elevate her status, with the way his teammates’ brain worked, it would more than likely draw them back to one another.

“And Mrs. Leclerc?”

It’s the first time Carlos has hesitated. Even if he couldn’t admit it to himself, he knew that your relationship with Charles had grown, that ambient it was made paper-thin, the trust was slowly beginning to come back. He thinks about how your eyes blinked widely, in awe of your husband on the podium earlier that day, how it supposedly didn’t matter he had spent most of your marriage wrapped in her arms, you still looked at him like that. Did you look at him like that? Like the way he looked at you.

This action could draw out a multiverse of reactions but at the end of the day, he had settled with two. The first was that you understood, that you would see the evidence, and understand the case. Divorce Charles and marry him, even if it meant he would give up everything.

The second is that you would see the chaos he caused and you would never speak to him again.

“Mr. Sainz?” The voice at the end of the telephone draws him from his questioning, running a hand across his red, swollen nose. It wasn’t broken, but god it was hurting. Bruised, most likely. “I need an answer.”

He needed to speak to you.

“Can you just-” He huffs, running a hand through his dark hair, his fingers almost getting caught in the strands. Of course his hair was tangled, he’d been doing nothing but pulling on it ever since he arrived at the hospital. “Let me speak to her. Hold it for 24 hours. You can do that, yes?” It’s not even a question now, nor a request. It’s a demand. He can’t do this, he can’t openly destroy your marriage for his own sake without speaking to you, without knowing for a fact that you love him.

Your name is carved onto his soul, onto his skin. The first thing he thinks about in the morning, and the last thing he would think about at night. There is no life he wishes to live in if you’re not there. Even as his friend.

There’s suddenly a light tap against glass, snapping the man’s attention from his device. He mumbles something in Spanish, telling his lawyer he would call him back, dreading who was coming out into the private courtyard.

He visibly relaxes when he sees it’s just a man, sneaking out whilst tears pool on his lower lashline, giving Carlos a warming nod.

“You don’t mind if I join you, do I?” The Spainard shakes his head. “My wife- she’s just being induced and wanted some space. She’s…” He gestures, trying to explain to a complete stranger how a few minutes ago, his wife wanted to cry and shake her head, but wanted nothing to do with him. It was all his fault.

Carlos offers a warm hand on his back, patting him firmly. “Congratulations. Do you know what you're having?” He’s invested, anything to distract him from his previous phone call, the weight of a decision on his shoulders.

The stranger grins. “A girl.” He smiles harder. “I don’t mind, as long as they arrive happy and healthy. But god- a girl, just like her.” He thinks. Carlos thinks. In an alternative universe, he’s sat by your side, pressing kisses and praises to your skin, holding you tighter as your daughter enters the world, ready to meet her mother and father. She would be like you; your eyes, hair, smile. It would be another you to love, to adore.

“Your first?” Carlos presses his question. The man sighs, shaking his head, shoving his hands into his pockets as he looks into the polished corridor.

“No. She’s…” He pauses. “We got together after hiding how we felt for so long, how we wanted to be with one another.” He looks to Carlos, clearly ashamed and embarrassed of the situation. “I know how it sounds, but sometimes you can’t help it. I- I love her.”

A band snaps in Carlos’ stomach; love knows no bounds.

Love is waking up to think of your person.

The first thing you register when you come around is brightness. You’re not in the soft glow of the luxurious hotel room you and your husband had been given, nor the candle-lit bedroom of Carlos’ apartment. No, the light is bright, blinding. An off-white which made your eyes squint.

Your senses are heightened; the only scent which flares through your nostrils is hand sanitiser and overpowering lilies. Nose scrunched, you attempt to wiggle your body upwards, aware of the IV line pinned into your hand. Panic immediately settled through your tummy, until your eyes flickered to the bag, realizing it was just water, they just wanted to rehydrate you.

Hesitantly, you wiggle each part of your body. Arms, hands, fingers. You’re able to move, though you couldn’t…you couldn’t remember why you got here. Memories are hazy, you remember Charles’ podium, the way he kissed you so deeply, so lovingly. Carlos’ hand on your waist, pulling you back to stop you from the champagne trickling over your body. You were overwhelmed, overworked and…you guessed it just all became too much.

You just about manage to turn your body, the first thing you’re aware of is that your cushion smells familiar. Warm nodes, sandalwood and seasalt. It’s a smell you’ve grown all too accustomed to, burying your face into their chest whilst you took refuge in his arms, in a hotel room. Charles had been there, already. His celebrations had clearly been cut short, whether or not it was for show or because he cared.

The second thing is the coffee cup. Cardboard, the contents clearly already drained, but handwriting etched onto the side in a thick, black marker. The handwriting, the doodle of a tiny butterfly. Carlos had been there, too.

There’s a sharp pinch on your cheek, fingers reach up to your skin and feel the butterfly strips against you. Immediately, a thousand questions come back to your mind, none of them being answered through your own memory. Instead, the door opens, a nurse in clean, bright uniform walking in, closing the door behind her. She beams at the realization you’re awake, shoulders relaxing.

“You’re awake!” Her tone is incredibly warm, seemingly very happy you’ve decided to wake up on your own terms. She’s quick to move to your bedside, pressing the back of her hand to your forehead. “How are you feeling? Have you warmed up?” You’re not sure what she’s referencing, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. She takes the look on your face as unknowingness, able to fill in the gaps.

“You collapsed on the track.” She’s trying to get through everything she needs to tell you. “We did some tests, you’re incredibly dehydrated for a start, you need to try and get some rest.” She pauses. “It’s nothing to be concerned about, we have collapses from dehydration every so often, more than you would realize.” Her eyes flicker down, finding it hard on how to phrase the next part of the question. “You also seem…incredibly worried.” You’re not sure how she could tell that from simply examining you, but you nod in confirmation. “Your blood pressure, it’s incredibly low. That’s why you fainted.”

“Yes.” You pause. How on earth were you about to explain the past twelve months to a nurse, a complete stranger? “There’s been some…reasons. You know, for the stress.” Her eyes soften, but the questioning continues.

“Are you trying for a baby?” You shake your head. “Moving house?” A shake. “Have you…lost somebody recently.”

You freeze, memory flickering to your mother, how in the midst of fixing your marriage, discovering your affection towards another, she had disappeared from the world. This time, you nod your head, drawing your knees up to your body, shivering. The nurse is quick to wrap a blanket over your shoulders, closer to the answer.

“I lost my mother.” You breathe out, shaking your head. “I lost my mother, and she’s the only one I can go to.” Now you’ve started speaking, you can’t finish. “I want to make them happy. I want to make him happy.” There’s tears glassing over your eyes.

You want him. You want him right now.

She sympathizes, she understands. “Sometimes, all you need is for them to tell you it’s going to be okay, right?” She lets her words trail off, turning to the door of your room. “He’s outside. He’s been waiting to see you.”

Your blood freezes.

“Would you like me to get him?”

You nod before you’ve even realized, your body clearly knows better than your mind. The nurse stands up straight, pacing towards the door as you feel your heart begin to race harder, frantically. She steps out of the room, a minute mumble on the other side, clearly a warning to be incredibly careful. It’s barely a minute before the door swings back open, dark hair and frantic panting.

You glance up, your heart softens at those eyes.

The eyes that you, the reader, wanted to see as you glanced to the door.

GREEN EYES [CL16 Ending]

BROWN EYES [CS55 Ending]

This is everyone who asked to be tagged! @Mac-daddy-210 @aundercover@barnestatic@omgsuperstarg@chimchimjiminie16@caelum-the-part-time-nihilist @magicalcowboyarbiter @gaslasysblog@junetto @beatrizmel-472 @motorsp0rt@crowdthena@screemqueen@lewislvr@styles-sunflower@itspaddockprincess@adeptustemptations @amalialeclerc @meetmyblondemuffins@formulanando@lorarri@christianpulisic10@gaypoetsblog@thisbitxhs-blog@goldsainz@ru-kru@magical-spit@hrlzy@nooshytushie@gaslysainz@marvel-at-stucky@sugarvibez@adeptustemptations@roseseraj@leclercdream@pjofics@hecatesfavoritechild@poseforme@thisbitxhs-blog @adalynneva @meganlikes2purr @sabrinaselina55 @laneyspaulding19@heavenlyiecreature@pink-teddy-bear@nooshytushie@strawberries-and-racing@milasexutoire@ohthemisssery@florkt@obsessedwiththeideaofyou@ru-kru@myhomeworksnotdone@ineedafictionalman@bregarc@allywthsr@summerslike11@wildcupcake@willowpains@marlenamallowan@leclercloml@katzenwahnsinn@be-your-coffee-pot

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celtic-crossbow · 28 days

Text

Blood Ties Chapter 26

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Mainly just pregnancy stuff

A/N: I hope I pulled this off while keeping our archer in character. Be gentle.

gif by @daryl-dixon-daydreams

You knew it was bothering him, it was evident in the way he moved. The jerking slices of the knife as he made bolts while he sat cross legged on the old railing across from you. You were perched on the porch swing—he had all but jumped up and down on it to make sure it would hold you safely—just watching him, guilt flaring to singe the inside of your chest. He wanted to go on the run, get the things that you and the baby needed, but you were scared. Hershel had said the baby could come any day. It was at your insistence that Daryl wasn’t going. You didn’t have to try hard, mind you. He was worried about leaving you as well.

Still, it wasn’t sitting right with him for the others to be risking their necks for his baby.

“Maybe you should go.” You finally said, picking at your thumbnail. You saw his movements come to an abrupt halt before continuing.

“Nah. Ya need me here.” He sniffed, starting up on another piece of wood. He had legitimate bolts with his crossbow, so you could only assume he was just trying to keep his hands busy. He was so undeniably torn and it was showing.

“I think you should. You know what I need. You’ve read the books. Maggie will be there to help with the medical side of things, the list Hershel made.” You sat up straighter, attempting to massage the little foot away from your ribs. Of course, Daryl noticed.

“S’wrong?” He was climbing off the rail and made it over to you in one long stride, giving you a once over before he sat down. He didn’t ask before taking over for you, lightly rubbing over the little form of toes with the smallest, gentlest of smiles. You’d almost consent to constant discomfort if it meant you’d see more of that expression.

“Thumper has a personal vendetta against my ribcage.” Your head found your partner’s shoulder, watching that same laser focus that had moments ago been on the wood he was carving now honed in on you. For a moment, you were just a couple expecting a baby. For a moment, the world hadn’t ended. For a moment, you had managed to find perfect. “I love you.”

Daryl’s hand froze but for a mere heartbeat before his fingertips continued chasing little toes as if he were playing a game with the baby, when in reality he was simply trying to divert the tiny digits away from your ribs. “So ya keep sayin’.”

“So you keep saying. Is that all you’re ever gonna say?” You weren’t angry, not even frustrated. There was merely a soft curiosity that sat in the back of your mind; along with the little voice that assured you Daryl was yours and you were his, even if he could never say the words.

“Dunno.” It always unsettled you when he spoke so quietly, small and fragile as if he feared his words would end in some sort of pain. God, you wanted to bury his father in a gopher hole, maybe even his mother and brother. It was normal for a person to be unsure of feelings, to question and explore before accepting what they were, good or bad. Daryl didn’t have that capability. He questioned. He explored. And then he feared, good or bad. He didn’t think he deserved good and he was so attuned with bad that it’s what came naturally in his own reactions. Perhaps he thought you were trying to fix him, when that couldn’t be further from the truth. You didn’t see anything broken. You saw someone who had never been shown what love was supposed to feel like. He wasn’t broken, he just needed to learn, and Daryl was good at learning.

Still you persevered, your fingers finding their way into his hair, delicately tracing the scar from Andrea’s bullet. “Do you love me, Daryl?” Maybe narrowing it down to a simple yes or no would make it easier for him. Maybe you were pushing him. You would need time if the answer was no but you would be okay. He cared enough to be with you, to raise Thumper as a family. In the end, that was all you needed.

But then his hand stilled on the center of your swollen belly and he lifted his head to seek out your gaze. Even with all the emotion stirring in those stormy pools of blue, you could easily see the fear, but there was something else. You continued to run your fingers through his hair, the color darkening somewhat as it grew. Even with that comforting gesture, you held his gaze, heard his breath stutter, watched his lips move so, so nimbly without a sound. His free hand came up to brush back your own hair, tenderly tucking it behind your ear. As he leaned toward you, the corners of your mouth lifted into a welcoming smile.

“Y/N, I—”

“We’re heading out!” Glenn called from the doorway before stepping onto the porch. Daryl pulled away fast, his hands on his knees, eyes downcast.

You were going to absolutely torture Glenn before you murdered him.

“You sure you don’t wanna go, Daryl?” Rick had joined Glenn and was checking his weapons before he finally looked up.

Daryl, though, only had eyes for you; his bowed head angled to see you, questioning.

You sighed with a smile, giving him a nudge with your elbow. “Go. Try to find those bra pad things. Cloths suck and they hurt my nipples.” There was no deeper shade of red that could color his skin. You laughed, loud and true. “Go. We’ll be fine.” Licking his lips nervously, Daryl nodded and left the swing.

T-Dog held out the archer’s bag and crossbow. “Thought you might change your mind. Went ahead and grabbed these.” He only received a nod.

The group began to descend the steps, but Daryl paused at the end, looking back to you. He closed the distance in seconds, a finger hooking under your chin to lift your face higher, even though you were already looking at him. “Be back ‘fore dark. Promise.”

That earned him one of your sweetest smiles. “We’ll be waiting.” You patted your belly. The rough hand at your chin, moved to your jaw, his thumb stroking the apple of your cheek. “I love you, Daryl. Be safe.” He hesitated, long enough for something to stir in your chest. Hope? Excitement? Then he merely nodded and was gone.

You and Lori were given the least strenuous tasks. She was not far behind you. A few weeks, her belly almost as prominent as your own. Luckily, you found it helped for folding clothing before stuffing them in the correct bag. Your bare feet were propped up in a chair across from you, your ankles swollen, squeezed by the socks that you had to wear to keep them warm. Your body just ached all over. Thumper Dixon was playing field hockey with your internal organs and the nausea you had definitely not missed was threatening to make a comeback. You just felt awful.

“The last month is the worst.” Lori commented while packing away some of Carl’s clothing. “And it’ll take a while after the baby comes to feel human again.”

“Growing a human fucking sucks.” You groused, one of Daryl’s few shirts lying spread over your torso. “And goddamnit, I have to pee. I always have to pee.”

“Means you’re hydrated at least. Silver linings.” Lori tittered. If anyone had been watching the two of you battling to your feet, it would have been worthy of more than a few chuckles.

“Thanks for going with me. Daryl would have a kitten if I went alone.” When you straightened, there was an immediate feeling of change in your body that had you looking to Lori, eyes wide. “Holy shit, I can breathe but I feel like I’m gonna piss my pants and my hips hurt.”

She smiled and placed her hands over her own round bump. “The baby dropped. You're carrying differently now. I wish we had a mirror.”

“Carrying differently? What do you—oh.” You immediately noticed when you began to massage the taut skin that the swell sat lower. You suddenly couldn’t remember a word the old man had said. Were you about to go into labor? How would Daryl know? You couldn’t do it without him.

“Easy, Y/N.” At some point, the other woman had crossed the small space and put her hands on your shoulders, your stomachs brushing against one another. “It just means the baby’s getting ready. Though, I think after this run, Daryl should probably consider staying behind on any others.” You nodded, trying to get your breathing under control. In through the nose, out through the mouth. “Let’s go take care of business and then let Hershel do his daily thing, okay?”

You nodded again, a jerky motion while you trembled. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.” You followed behind her, trying to keep your mind on the fact that if you didn’t empty your bladder within the next couple of minutes, you would still be incredibly anxious but you would be so with wet pants. “Maybe the little gremlin can’t reach my ribs now.”

You felt like crap. All day, you felt heavy and sluggish, swollen and nauseous. By late afternoon, you just couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Carol.” You spoke her name quietly, leaning onto the dusty countertop to pillow your head on your folded arms. You saw the concern on her face when she turned from canned foods with which she was planning small meals. You couldn’t even wave away her worry. “Do you need my help right now? I think I’d really like to lie down.”

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” She came to place a hand on your back, rubbing softly. It only succeeded in making your yearn for Daryl to be there, easing your fears in his own Daryl way. He would probably already have an aneurysm when someone told him that you’d done work, light as it was. And then you needed to tell him that the baby had indeed dropped. God, even if you didn’t tell him, he’d notice with that keen eye of his. Your stomach had shifted, still round but lower. There was so much pressure on your pelvis that you thought the bones might separate at any moment. Lori had promised that what you were feeling was normal, that it was simply new and you would take a day or two to adjust unless the baby decided to make its debut before you could.

“I just don’t feel well.” You stood straighter, nodding that she could remove her hand and you were fine. “I’d rather have Daryl come back to me feeling like shit and resting than to me feeling like shit and trying to help get things done.”

“I can’t argue with that.” She laughed.

Carol was about the only other person in the group that Daryl dropped any of his walls around. With Rick, it was all business. There was respect there, but not yet friendship. You could see it though, the subtle changes in your hunter. He was getting comfortable around these people. It was a snail’s pace but if they were anything like you hoped they were, he would be granted their patience. God knew, he had earned it.

“Come on.” Carol urged. “Let’s get you settled.”

With each step, you whined, feeling less and less like the woman you had been only months before, like she had been left behind somewhere, starved or trampled by a herd. “I hate this. Is it wrong to hate this?” You grimaced at Carol who only chuckled breathily, her hand resting on your cheek.

“It’s not wrong. This is a lot. Our bodies do a lot.” A couple of soft pats and then she bent down to straighten the bedroll and arrange the blankets.

You were watching, actually finding yourself excited to be off your feet and deciding that a nap wouldn’t be so horrible when there was a strange feeling low in your belly. It started as a gradual tightening but soon turned into an unyielding cramp, your stomach hard beneath your hands as you grabbed for your sweater. You gasped Carol’s name, could hear her clearly calling for Hershel but you couldn’t seem to respond, swallowed up by every fear that had been looming like a dark shadow for the past few weeks. The pain wasn’t even horrible, not like you had imagined at all. But it was terrifying. The only thing you could think of to do was hold the area that housed your little Thumper and whimper out Daryl’s name.

A bed had been cleared, dusted, and made for you in the downstairs room. As you laid there, resting, and stared at the half empty cup of water on the bedside table, you overheard Beth and Carl animatedly re-telling how two walkers had shuffled by the driveway gate. The children had hid and remained quiet, reporting that no others were seen once those two had moved on. You weren’t naive enough to hope that it didn’t mean more were coming. The group would need to pack up and head out likely within the next day or so.

“Braxton Hicks.” Hershel had stated matter-of-factly. He had expressed that he was actually surprised you hadn’t experienced them before then, added that maybe you had but they were so mild that you just didn’t notice. You had two more instances over the course of three hours but nothing since then, though your body seemed to be in a constant state of dread, waiting for another to happen; for it to be more than what Hershel had said. You were waiting for something to be wrong.

Beyond the dusty, tattered green curtains, you could see the light fading. Daryl would be back soon. Would he blame you for bringing this on by doing a little work? Would he be angry? He’d be beside himself with worry, that much was a given. Hershel had said you could do small chores, that it was good for you to be moving, but what if Daryl didn’t see it that way? The morning had started so perfectly. The conversation had been left unfinished but it didn’t seem to have been heading anywhere bleak.

“Ugh.” You didn’t know what was more exhausting, your body or your brain. Each time you closed your eyes, your mind ran rampant with each and every wildly negative scenario it could possibly conjure. You groaned and rolled to your other side despite the effort and apprehensiveness of even moving. Letting your eyes close yet again, you fought against the intrusive thoughts, forcing images of what Thumper might look like instead. A little girl with Daryl’s eyes and your smile. A little boy with unruly light hair like Daryl’s had been, a constant scowl. You laughed softly, wetly, shedding a few tears around your smile. No matter the sex of the baby, you hoped for Daryl’s eyes. They were the one thing to always gave him away, no matter what expression he wore. With a baby that couldn’t communicate needs and wants, you would at least have that in your corner.

At some point, you must have dozed off, opening your eyes to the sound of the old truck Daryl was driving. Looking to the window, you could see the faint light of dusk giving way to the moon. He’d kept his promise, albeit barely. You didn’t care as long as he was back. Shifting and struggling, you finally made it upright just as you heard Glenn’s all too cheerful voice, though you couldn’t make out the words. Rick’s few words trailed right after. Then there was Daryl. He spoke but then there was nothing more than hushed tones. Hershel offering the day's events, most likely. A thud was followed by echoing stomps of boots pounding against the hardwood floors.

“Where is she?” Daryl roared, closer to the door.

“She’s fine, son. She’s resting. This is normal. It just caused a bit of a fright. She just—”

“Where. Is. She?!”

The old man must have nodded or pointed because the next thing you knew, the door was swinging open with Daryl’s silhouette backdropped by the soft candlelight in the other room. His shoulders were heaving in what sounded so close to sobs that you squinted your eyes for a chance to catch his expression before he moved, startling you with how quickly he had one knee on the bed and was leaning in to check you over himself. He was filthy, mostly dirt and grime, but spots of walker blood and a cut across his cheek that was no longer bleeding.

“What happened?” You asked, reaching for his face but letting your hand hover in fear of hurting him.

“Don’t matter. Ya alright? Baby okay?” He was breathless, either from his haste to get to you or maybe just with worry. He was touching you without hesitance, his hands in a mad rush to feel your face, neck, your belly. You watched his eyes go wide and knew exactly what it meant. “Why’s it look diff’rent?”

“Thumper dropped.” His eyes were dancing back and forth as he flipped through his mental catalog of reading material and Hershel’s words. Relief was evident in his posture when he recalled what he had been searching for, but he was still tense.

“Hershel said ya was crampin’. The fake shit. Does it hurt now?” You shook your head and watched him finally sink onto his hip beside you, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Shouldn’a gone. Ya didn’t need to be alone through that.”

“Hey.” You leaned as far as you could, to guide his hand away with one hand while the other used his chin to turn his face toward you. “I wasn’t alone and we’re okay. It’s just my body getting ready.” Daryl’s head tilted, his expression displaying his gratitude for your attempts at consolation but also heavy laden with guilt for leaving you there. “Daryl, you had to go.”

“Didn’t hafta do nothin’. Could’a stayed right here where ya need me to be.”

He hadn’t asked what you had been doing. Maybe it wasn’t that important to him after all. He seemed to be more concerned with what happened and how you currently felt than anything. You truly needed to start trusting him as you wanted so badly for him to trust you. Your palm left his face and wrapped around the back of his neck, not needing much pressure to pull him to you for your lips to press against his. It was gentle and chaste, his hand leaving your belly to cup your jaw.

“We’re okay and you’re here now.” You soothed, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Just—no more runs until Thumper’s here, okay?”

“No more runs.” He agreed, his eyes closed, forehead against yours. “Ain’t leavin’ ya again.” His hand lowered back to your belly, rubbing back and forth. It was always the most tender thing you’d ever seen from him. You didn’t think him the type but he actually seemed to be calmed by the action. “D’ya need anythin’?”

“Just you.” You let him help you lie back, but he didn’t follow.

“Need to clean up. I’ll be quick.” He made to stand up but you grabbed his forearm and pulled yourself up again, not stopping once you got there. He gave in to your incessant tugging and wrapped his arms around you. “You’re gonna need to change too now.” You sniffled, trying hard not to cry, but you were just so overwhelmed with relief that he was back in one piece, that nothing bad had truly happened, that he was going to stay. “Don’t cry, woman. M’here.”

“I know. I’m just—I’m happy. I have you and Thumper. And—I don’t deserve you, Daryl Dixon.”

Daryl scoffed, rubbing his cheek against the crown of your head. “Ya deserve way better than me, Sunshine.” He took a deep breath that actually shifted you against his chest and then he was tightening his embrace. “But I love ya. An’ m’here unless ya tell me to get lost.” He pulled away before you could say anything, heading quickly for the door with one last look before he walked out. You were stunned frozen, silent.

He said it.

He said it and you could feel that he meant it. His actions had always conveyed it, but hearing it from his mouth was everything.

Thumper rolled and kicked before going still, reacting to all the emotions you were feeding to them through your bond. When you laid down again, it wasn’t hard to fall asleep. No wicked images formed behind your eyes. Just those words replaying in your head, a baby’s tiny hand gripping a large finger. A child’s giggle. And then his voice again.

Your eyes didn’t want to obey when you bid them to open, the mattress dipping beside you, the sheets moving. A warm arm pulled you against an even warmer body, enveloping you in a veil of safety.

Everything would be okay.

Because you loved Daryl.

And Daryl loved you.

#murda writes #daryl dixon #blood ties #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl x female reader #pregnant!reader #daddy!daryl incoming #daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead daryl dixon #daryl dixon the walking dead

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s6ngbird · 4 months

Text

flowers from beneath — ACT V

series masterlist || navigation

[ warnings ] — NSFW, your mother being her usual self, fingering (f. receiving), , lmk if i missed anything

[ pairing ] — hades!coriolanus snow x persephone!reader

[ a/n ] — and here's the last act! i do think i'll make an epilogue but i have another fic in mind before i do that <3

[ beta read by a literal goddess aka @etfrin ]

“i'm not giving her back” coriolanus said, after zeus and your mother had come to the underworld, demanding your release

“she's happy here, probably because you're not there to watch over her like a hawk” he continued, watching with a smirk as your mother reacts to his comment, she was turning so red that coriolanus was sure he could see the snoke radiating from her ears, just as he intended

“she's not yours to keep! you kidnap my darling child, then try to keep her and now lie to me about her happiness?!” your mother shouts, seething with anger at coriolanus, all while zeus just rubbed his hand over his face, clearly not in the mood for either of their childish behavior

“you might want to check with her on the whole ownership thing, she really seems to think i own her now” coriolanus exclaims, glee evident in his voice as he continues to argue with your mother, face lighting up everytime she makes a comment that he can easily retort to

“you are insufferable! zeus, what do you think about this? tell coriolanus he's being unreasonable and needs to return my daughter!” your mother yells at coriolanus, turning to zeus with a much calmer attitude to ensure that he would be on her side about all of this

“why don't we just bring her out? see what she thinks about coriolanus and returning to earth” zeus proposed, hoping that your mother would not go off at him for this solution

“fine i'll bring her, but if she doesn't want to come, that's not my problem and maybe it'll help you rethink some of your life choices about being a mother” coriolanus said, getting off his throne and stalking towards his room, knowing that you would most likely want a kiss from him once he came in

maybe he could even fuck you quickly, so fast that zeus and your mother wouldn't even know but still slow enough to let your mother know that he was doing something to you and you had no objections

before opening the door to his room, coriolanus looked behind him, double checking that your mother hadn't followed him and once he was sure no one was in the hallway besides him, he opened the door, shutting it quickly

you looked up the minute you hear the door open, your face lighting up when you saw coryo coming in, looking weary but a smile still present on your face that was only reserved for you

you had been cleaning up his room for a while, even though coryo didn't let you out of his room, he still unchained your ankle so that you could freely roam around his room and bathroom without him having to watch you

though getting to watch you take a bath and piss were always a delight for him because he got to see you naked…not that he didn't already get to see you naked whenever he pleased

he walked over to you, picking you up and tossing you on his bed, crawling over you and kissing you hard

you assumed he was upset about something since he never kissed you this hard unless someone or something had upset him earlier, and you were right

he didn't want to have to lose you, all of that time and effort that was put into kidnapping you, all the effort put into making you fall in love with him and getting you to submit yourself to him willingly, would all be wasted if he let you go

once he finally pulled back, you cupped his cheek and he leaned into your touch, shutting his eyes and taking deep breaths

“what's wrong coryo?” you ask, and he snakes a hand around your waist, flipping you two over so that you were on top of him now

“it's just…” he stopped, unsure of what to say next, if he told you that your mother was right outside in the throne room, you might want to go see her which is exactly what she wanted

but if he didn't tell you that, he would have to come up with some elaborate lie that would break his and your promise of not lying to one another

“your mother stresses me…and she's here” he says, slowly and keeping his arm around your waist to ensure that you wouldn't run the minute he told you

and to his surprise, you stayed put, burying your head in his neck as his other hand came up to stroke your hair

“what's she doing?” you whisper, almost afraid to say it out loud

you had always had this subconscious fear of your mother because of the control she had over you, always grounding you if she thought you stepped out of line and slapping you at times when you really messed up

but you hadn't realized how afraid of her you were until coriolanus kidnapped you and you had spent so much time away from her

and even if coriolanus had married you against your will, you had grown fond of him and loved him, just as he did with you, though he loved you the minute he saw you

“her and zeus want me to bring you out so they can decide what to do with you, he says, voice muffled from burying his face in your hair in order to push down the feeling of crying, no he would not cry, he hadn't done that in decades and he wasn't about to start now

“i think if you keep me here, she'll grow suspicions and probably break down your door” you say, looking up at him, thinking of what to say next

“if you bring me out there it'll be better, trust me ok?” you kiss him, hoping to convince him from doing something he'll regret later and he kissed back, getting lost in your lips before you pulled back, giving him an expectant look

“fine, we'll go, you just need to change and clean up a bit” he grumbled, pulling you off of him and standing up as you go to the bathroom to wash your face

he laid back on the bed, sighing and rubbing his hand over his face, wondering if this was going to be the last time he ever saw you

and if it was he knew exactly what he wanted to do, getting up and coming up from behind you, picking you up and taking you on his bed, despite your protests

“coryo! you cannot fuck me right now!” you exclaim, but when he quickly stuffs his fingers in your leaking cunt, your protests are silenced

he laughs at how wet you were, clutching your jaw in his hand as you go limp, deciding not to put up a fight with him, just praying that you would be done quickly and your mother wouldn't storm into here and watch her daughter being ruined by the very man she hated

you whined, trying to push him off despite not really wanting to and he eventually got off, but he made sure he made you come first

he wasn't about to deny his little bride of an orgasm, especially because this could possibly be one of the last ones he'd ever be able to give you

after he cleaned you up, he grabbed the nicest dress that he had brought you, helping you into it and zipping up the back and whispering in your ear how fuckable you looked in the dress and how he wished that he got just suck on your tits forever

you got red and slapped his arm, which earned you a slap on the ass that turned you even more red, groaning in frustration as he laughed, kissing you and leading you out the room, his hand wrapped around your waist

your mother lit up when she saw you, running over and hugging you so tightly, you felt that your bones would break under the pressure

she pulled back, checking every inch of you to make sure coriolanus hadn't hurt you and once she came to the conclusion that he hadn't hurt you, she hugged you again

“we're going to go home soon, i promise” she said, holding you closely as you squirmed a bit, opening your mouth to protest, but coriolanus beat you to it

“she's not going back to earth, she's my wife, it's her decision at the end of the day” coriolanus said, giving your mother a death stare as she let go of you

“she's not staying in this hellhole! she belongs on earth with the greenery and more importantly with her mother!” you mother objects, fed up with how coriolanus views this situation

“and what the fuck do you mean married?!” your mother yelled, angered by the “marriage”

“she's married to me, what more is there to explain?” coriolanus retorts, sounding almost bored of this petty argument

“well you must've forced her and locked her up because there's no way my daughter would agree to marrying an asshole!” your mother seethed, annoyed by coriolanus’ calm reaction

what your mother said was true and both you and coriolanus knew it was true, but in that week, you had warmed up to him and no longer acted wild to escape him just as he started to treat you as his equal, telling you that there's no way in hell he would treat his queen like an object

but alas, your mother and coriolanus bickered for a while, not letting up on the insults and fighting over you as if you really were just a mere object

“i think that she should return to earth” zeus says finally, hoping that your mother would shut up now that he gave his final word that was in her favor

“see i told you! she's coming back with me!” your mother said gleefully, and coriolanus just sighed, not willing to show how heartbroken he was at zeus’ decision

after all, you two had only been married a week and a few days and now you two were being torn apart, faster than either of you intended

you open your mouth to protest but coriolanus looks at you, and you shut your mouth, knowing that he'll figure out something

“if it's ok i'd like to have at least a few minutes with my wife in private before she's snatched away from me” coriolanus said, rising from his throne and making his way towards you

your mother opened her mouth to say no, but zeus gave coriolanus the green light and he took you to a secluded hallway where you just let all your tears out

you couldn't bear the thought of losing coryo, the only man who ever cared about you and was more importantly, your husband

“shh dove don't cry please” he said, taking out a handkerchief and wiping your eyes, kissing your forehead

“i have an idea of how you can stay here with me, ok?” he said, taking out a pomegranate and handing you a few of the seeds, six to be exact

“for every seed you eat, that's a month that you have to spend in the underworld” he explained to you

“why can't i just eat all 12? that way we can be together forever?” you sniffled, looking at him with wide eyes

“oh dove…i wish but your mother would actually kill me, plus 6 is better than nothing right?” he said urging you to eat the seeds quickly before your mother started looking for you two

you obligated, eating them all at once and wiping the juice with your hand

coryo took that hand a kissed it, promising you that those six months would go by fast and in no time you would be back here with him for the rest of the year

you nodded and bid him your farewell, kissing him hard and promising that you would bring all the pretty flowers when you came back

as your mother collected you and you both ascended to earth, coriolanus waved, realizing his eyes misted over and he indeed was crying after all the decades

once he returned to his room, ready to wallow in his pity, he noticed something growing on the shelf near some of your possessions

it was odd because there was no life or growth in the underworld, but once he saw what it was he smiled through his tears, knowing that it was a gift from you, to remind him of you whenever he got sad or felt lonely

the gift was quite on brand for you, it being a flower growing in the underworld

and it did remind him of you already, as the it was a little beacons of hope for him that he'd see you again after the long wait

but in the meantime…let the torture commence

#tom blyth #tom blyth fluff #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth smut #tom blyth imagine #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus x you #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #young coriolanus snow

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kitkatscabinet · 6 months

Text

Step into my parlour, said the spider

Stepbro! Simon x reader

Warnings: this one’s kind of deranged. Simon is a fucked up little freak. I mean it when I say this is dark, read with discretion. Implications of murder, and non-con

Word count: 1.5k

Once again 141 server bringing out the worst in me, @chxrryghost @cooliofango see you guys in hell 🫡

Before you, life was a series of dull greys and monochromes, there was no warmth, just cold never-ending darkness that persisted in the form of his father's abuse. That didn’t matter now though, because nothing before you mattered.

Simon is nine years old when the angel (you) starts to live with them, he’s got no clue how his deadbeat of a father managed to finagle another woman into marrying him but he pays little mind to his new step-mum when he has you.

You’re five years older than him, but you’re not like Tommy or dad at all. You’re kind and you tuck him into bed and give him cuddles and kisses that make him feel all fuzzy inside. You take him to the park and protect him from his dad. You try to hide the dark bruises that litter your skin, a consequence of shielding him, but Simon’s not so naive.

He grows up hiding in your shadow, falling deeper and deeper into an obsessively deranged love for his saviour, the only person who loves him and treats him kindly. He seethes silently, waiting for the moment he’s big enough to protect you instead.

By the time you’re sixteen, your mother has split, leaving you behind though you reassure Simon that you’d never have left him anyway. His father’s been out of a job for a while and you’ve been running yourself ragged to support Simon and Tommy. Tommy the bastard that he is doesn't appreciate the work you do and Simon is once again forced to grit his teeth and seethe as he watches you come home every evening like a zombie. Some mornings you don’t even make it to the bed to fall asleep, though Simon’s always waiting, dragging you under the covers before burrowing his way into your side.

You let yourself get degraded by filthy men that slap your ass and call you names just for a measly tip. You’re one of the prettiest people on the planet which, unfortunately, attracts a lot of attention from the disgusting dregs of society. Boys your age and older, far too old to even consider glancing your way. The few brave enough to hover are always quickly scared off by Simon’s intense glares, and he preens when you pat his hair in thanks.

His dad notices too and Simon comes home from school one afternoon to find the man on top of you, hands wrapped around your neck as you struggle beneath him. A plate shatters over his dad's head and it’s not until Simon is on the floor and his old man is red in face, screaming at him that Simon realises what he’s done.

You’re screaming and you shove his dad from behind, scooping Simon into your arms with adrenaline-fuelled strength you wouldn’t normally possess and are locking you and him in your shared room. Barricading the door and squishing Simon against you as your breath rattles.

You fall asleep with Simon nestled against your chest, none the wiser to how his blood chants with the fervour of a thousand men, mine, mine, mine.

The universe finally seems to give you a break after that, his dad leaves the both of you alone and not long after your 18th birthday you get a cushy, well-paying job as a secretary for some hot-shot lawyer. Though Simon gets a little upset when you spend all your money on him, new clothes, new books for school, a GameBoy, whatever he wants.

Best of all, his dad dies. The alcohol and drugs finally taking their toll on his body. (It’s not until a few years later that he’ll realise you were entirely too calm when the police came knocking. Serving them tea as you pretended to be shocked about the news.)

You get custody of him and Tommy and you move them into a much nicer neighbourhood. Though Simon’s not happy at having his own room and often sneaks back into your bed, knowing that you’ll simply sigh and open your arms for him, letting him snuggle against your chest.

Simon should’ve known better, should’ve known that his happiness wouldn’t last. It’s not even a year into what you called the start of his new life that he comes home one afternoon from school to find you sobbing into your hands, hair and outfit dishevelled. Though you refuse to give him the details of what happened he manages to put two and two together from the state of your being and the knowledge that you’ve been fired.

You take up waitressing again but it’s not enough. He’s not sure who ends up reporting it but a few days before his 14th birthday Simon gets taken away from you, no matter how much he kicks and screams. He tries to run away a few times but he’s always found and dragged away from you again.

You move away not long after, having been offered a once-in-a-lifetime scholarship. Simon tries to understand as you explain through tears, kissing his forehead for the last time. He knows it’s selfish of him to feel betrayed but he can’t help it. Can’t accept that you’re leaving him. He doesn’t cry, instead, he immediately starts plotting. This is just a minor bump in the road, he’ll spend every waking moment until he’s eighteen perfecting his skills and plans and then nothing will keep you apart ever again.

Time passes by excruciatingly slow, the only positive is that he’d finally grown even further, and had sprouted in height and musculature so much that he fears you might not recognise him. It takes him another extra year to find you, but when he’s twenty-three, with military resources at his disposal he finally, finally sees you again in person.

You’re still the picture of perfection, clothes hugging your form so tantalisingly that Simon feels his cock throb in the confines of his pants just from seeing you. He steps forward, weaving through the crowd of the market only to stop in his tracks when a man wraps his arms around your midsection. Instead of rebuffing the touch you lean back and smile against him and Simon feels as if the Earth has been pulled from his feet.

How could you do this to him?

He’s waited so faithfully for you all these years and you’ve replaced him? He watches as you kiss the interloper with a smile and Simon clenches his fists in fury so harshly his palms bleed. How many men had you let into your bed? How long did it take for you to forget him?

The plan’s changed. You’ve forced him into this. It’s not his fault that he’s had to plant cameras throughout your house. It’s not his fault that you’re so tantalising it forces him to break into your house, stealing your used panties to help get himself off. It’s not his fault you force him to learn you and your boyfriend’s schedule and it’s not his fault your scumbag partner doesn’t take his carefully worded hint to leave you.

Your boyfriend is dead. Unfortunate, but needs must. Simon watches you sob into your pillow, hard as a rock as he imagines licking the tears from your cheeks and decides he can’t wait any longer.

You’re so distraught that you don’t even notice Simon is in your house, you don’t notice until he swings the bedroom door open and you look up with a scream. He supposes he must make something of a terrifying sight, he’s a large man, and his face is covered by his trademark skull balaclava.

Simon allows you a few seconds to scramble around in panic before he crosses the distance, trapping your back to his chest and groaning as he humps into your ass. You scream, hitting at his arms as the tears start to flow anew and Simon throws you down on the mattress, weighing you down with his bulk.

“Please, you don’t have to do this” you beg with teary eyes that do nothing but fuel his arousal. He does take pity on you though, restraining your wrists with his right hand and using his left to tug off his mask. He watches as your eyes gradually widen, elation filling his chest as recognition fills them.

“Simon?” your voice wobbles and his name has never sounded better. Groaning, he rests his forehead against your collarbone, taking calming breaths to stop from cumming then and there. It’s okay though, he’s got all the time in the world now. You’ll spend the rest of your lives together, you’ll never be apart again.

#x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #kat’s writing #cod ghost #cod simon riley #simon riley

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chrisevansonly · 6 months

Text

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞: 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐈𝐭 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐜 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: starting a family was yours and charles’s dream, and welcoming little baby matteo hervé leclerc was the absolute best day of your lives, and the start of a new future as a family of 3

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: mentions of pregnancy, hospitals and childbirth & lots n lots of fluff

𝐚/𝐧: well she’s here the first chapter of Little Karter! i’m so excited to write this little series and i really am excited to share the ideas i have with it! i hope you all enjoy it<;3

𝐰𝐜: 1.5k+

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

For as long as you could remember and as long as you had been with Charles, there was never a doubt in either of your minds when it came to having a family. You’d always wanted kids and so had Charles, so when the day had come that you found out you were expecting, it was a day you would forever remember. Nothing about trying for a baby comes easy, it doesn’t help that still to this day most books and movies fail to highlight that. It took you and Charles almost three years to conceive your now 4-year-old son Matteo, it was a lot of tears, pain and trial and error until that very morning you took the test.

▸

Time moved slow as you stood in front of Charles, the three tests you had taken in his hands, tears lining your eyes.

“Ne me mens pas..bébé, s’il te plait”

Charles was on the verge of losing it, his eyes glossing over as he start at you with such a yearning and adoration, you had never seen anything like it

“I promise my love…”

“Holy shit!”

He was quick to pull you into his chest, his arms holding you tight to him, tears hitting your neck as you held onto one another, A moment that would forever cement itself into memory, there was nothing that could top the reaction and love you felt and saw that day.

“We did it Char”

Pulling back he took your face in his hands, bringing you in for a kiss, a tearful smile on his face when he pulled away

“We did it baby”

▸

Charles had been nothing short of amazing throughout your pregnancy, from doctors appointments, to late night cravings and sitting at your side as you experienced the worst morning sickness throughout the first trimester. If you needed him he was there, he made that extremely clear to you as well as Ferrari. Letting them know if you needed him he would be there, racing was his passion, but you were his heart, and he would drop anything for you, all you ever needed to do was ask.

He was adamant about this from day one.

You couldn’t help the smile that pulled at your lips as you watched him pick out baby boy’s first outfit, you had gotten to the hospital almost five hours ago, your water breaking, thankfully enough on the summer break so Charles was already at home with you. He was so excited to become a father, you could not wait to see him flourish into his new role.

“Char he won’t know what he’s wearing…”

He turned to smile at you.

“I know baby but-I just want it to be perfect for him, I want everything to be perfect for you too”

“It already is my love, you’ve done so much for me the past nine months, you’ve taken such great care of me...”

A pause fell over the room, Charles placing a little white onesie with red cars on it down onto the change table across from your bed, moving to sit next to you, his hands grabbing yours gently.

“I love you, I would do anything for you, and I’ll keep taking care of you, both of you.”

Leaning down he kissed you, rubbing your cheek ever so softly when he notices a stray tear that had begun to roll down your skin. No further words needed to be exchanged, Charles could see it in your eyes just how much you loved and adored him, and right now that was more than enough for him.

Thankfully you managed to get some more rest not long after, Charles keeping his eye on you diligently, he was too excited and anxious to rest, despite his mother being adamant that he gets his sleep now. As soon as a baby comes along it becomes much harder to get your beauty sleep, but you’d never hear a parent complain, especially not Charles, this was what he’d been dreaming for, and he was sure if his father was still around he would be so proud of him.

It wasn’t until seven pm, that you were dilatated to ten centimetres and could start pushing, it was a pain no one could prepare you for, and a pain that was way worse than you had ever imagined

“Tout va bein, ma belle…tu es si forte”

“Ça fait mal Char…cant-“

Charles shook his head, moving to be closer as he swiped a cool cloth across your forehead

“I know, I know it does but he’s almost here…just a bit longer baby, I know you can do it”

He looked at you with fierce determination, he could see the exhaustion behind your eyes but you were so close to holding your little boy and it was with the next hard push and agony filled scream that his cries echoed through the room. Charles quick to kiss yours cheeks as he rested his forehead on yours, tears in both of your eyes

“I’m so proud of you baby, you did it…he’s here”

The doctor was quick to place the crying baby onto your chest as you sniffled, your hands moving to hold onto him, he needed to be cleaned up still but this allowed you and Charles to connect with him right away

“Bonjour mon petit, tu es si parfait, papa t’aime déjà beaucoup” he said quietly, brining a hand up to wipe his eyes

“He’s so perfect Char…”

The nurses then came over and took him gently, allowing Charles to cut his umbilical chord before taking him over to weigh him and check him out, allowing Charles to come back to your side, a look in his eyes that was only reserved for you and your perfect baby boy

“Thank you, thank you, thank you”

“Oh my love, you don’t need to thank me, I love you so much you never need to thank me for this”

He shook his head

“I do because-because you made me a father… it is all I have ever wanted”

Reaching your hand out to him he took it, kissing the back of it before sitting next to you, allowing you to then lean your head into him, waiting patiently for the nurses to bring your baby back. Of course it didn’t take them very long, wrapping him in a warm blanket and gently placing him into your arms, your eyes taking all of him in.

He was a tiny little baby, but in every way absolutely perfect, he had Charles’s nose and his hair, he was the spitting image of his father, a twin if you must

“Hi my angel…”

Charles watched you interact with your son, smiling as you traced his little cheek with your pinky finger

“You are your daddy’s twin aren’t you? Mhm..”

You couldn’t help but place a series of gentle kisses to his face, just enjoying holding him in your arms, watching as he had begun to move a little

“Char you ready to hold him..?”

A slight look of hesitation flashed across your husbands eyes, he’d been waiting nine months for this moment, so why was he so worried

“My love, you’ll be okay, I promise…you don’t do anything wrong”

“Yeah-um okay yes”

He was meticulously careful and slow in his movements as he lifted the baby from your chest, moving to sit down in the rocking chair next to the bed, he never imagined in a million years he would be holding his little boy in his arms. It was no surprise to you to see his emotions ramp up again as he placed a kiss to his forehead

“Tu es mon plus précieux trésor mon bébé”

“Il est tout à nous mon amour”

Sniffling Charles nodded, the baby sleeping soundly nice and tucked into his arm. You figured he would wake up eventually to eat but for now there was no greater sight than seeing your husband and baby boy cuddled up with one another.

“Welcome to the world little Matteo Hervé Leclerc”

rough english translations:

Ne me mens pas..bébé, s’il te plait - don’t lie to me baby, please

Tout va bein, ma belle…tu es si forte - everything is fine sweetheart (or my beautiful) you are so strong

Ça fait mal - it hurts

Bonjour mon petit, tu es si parfait, papa t’aime déjà beaucoup - hello little one, you are so perfect, daddy loves you so much already

Tu es mon plus précieux trésor mon bébé - you are my most precious gift (treasure) baby

Il est tout à nous mon amour - he is all ours my love

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miwsolovely · 16 days

Text

—THE WEIGHT OF BLOOD.

pairing: outlaw!farmer!141 x fem!reader

series masterlist taglist (closed.) next prev

contains: pov change, graphic violence, gore, reader’s husband insults her, mentions + use of knives in this chapter, reader is called a whore, implications of kidnapping, drugs.

summary: slippery floors.

wc: 4.7k

a/n: oh…

You always felt as if you were walking on eggshells with him.

It’s how you used to feel with him. When the sun was barely shining on your life and peppering your face with light, guilty, kisses.

Now that the sun is hidden by the horizon, no longer are the kisses light and guilt ridden, but they are harsh and forceful. No more are the rays hitting your skin with a warm embrace, but its replaced with a chill so unforgiving it’s like a whip against your skin.

No longer are the eggshells digging into your skin, because glass shards are piercing into your feet, digging into the flesh and staying there so that every time your once delicate, soft feet hit the floor, a wave of pain and realization washes over you.

Every step is a reminder; you’re never going to be free of him.

You let out a shaky breath and wince at your husband’s booming voice. Pointing fingers and yelling curses.

Johnny and Simon are doing little to nothing to stop him, in fact, they seem to be holding back.

Why?

Why are they holding back when your husband, James Fitzroy, is insulting their mothers? Their sisters, brothers? Them?

“We didnae do nothin’ to ye,” Johnny starts, standing in front of Simon when James gets too close for his liking. “So back the hell off.”

James scoffs with a sick smile on his face. “You didn’t do anything to me?” He spits. “Of course not, you just came into my house, and fucked my wife, is that it? Hm? Had your fill already?” He taunts, his hair flying wild.

You always loved his hair. His golden, rich dark hair, suggestive of the precious metal, mimics the beauty and luxury of his picture perfect world; compared to you however, your soul hides what’s really behind closed doors.

You shake your head to rid your mind of those thoughts. He’s not shining gold anymore, the secrets in this house are slowly coming to light. He resembles something that seems kind, but hurts you when you actually expect it, when you know it can hurt you. Like the sun.

“We didn’t do anythin’ to your wife.” Simon defends. He steps forward so he’s now side by side next to Johnny, the kitchen looking too small for them. “We just came here to deliver the meat she ordered, is all.”

“Oh really?” James says. He shoves an accusing finger in Simons shoulder.

He’s going to hurt them. He’s going to hurt them and you’re just standing there.

Like the pliant little housewife he made you to be.

What are you doing just standing there?

When you let the heavy coat drop from your arms onto the floor and you take a singular step in their direction, you can feel the glass digging deeper into your skin.

Every step is a reminder.

As you near your husband, you shudder. His wrath is like a toxic air that’s slowly killing you from the inside out. Taking and taking until there’s nothing left of you to take.

You reach your James, scared to meet the questioning gazes of Johnny and Simon, and reach a trembling hand to touch his shoulder. “James—”

He whips his body around to face you. You can see, feel, his anger as it burns everything it touches. Hungry for more. He grabs your outstretched hand and squeezes. Ignoring the whimpers of pain that fall from your lips and the tears that blur your vision and fall down to meet at your chin.

“You.” He says it with so much, loathe dripping from his voice, painting his lips, his chin, neck, black with anger.

“You fucking whore, playing around with these, little boys, getting their dicks wet while I slave away at work and provide for you?”

His face is too close. So close, you can smell the stink of alcohol on his breath, recoil as you feel the spit flying out of his mouth land on your face. You feel your tears falling fatter and faster as you see the hickeys and lipstick prints on his neck.

“You let go of ‘er—”

Your free hand feels like lead as you raise it to bring it down with such force it leaves a red mark on his face the moment your skin touches his, his face forced to the side, facing the wall.

You feel your soul getting doused in gasoline and set on fire.

You see James’s body turning rigid and stiff as his face turns a canvas of anger.

You blink away your tears.

He stiffens as if he endures the horrors you have to watch him do at night. He stiffens as if his body is constantly being clawed, dragged, down by hands that burn. He stiffens as if he has glass stuck in the soles of his feet, spilling his blood onto the floor and staining the wood, the walls, you. You, you, you.

He turns his head back to its original position to at you, but he’s stopped. Stopped by a scared hand deep his hair wrenching back so his body topples to the floor with a reverberating thud. You almost fall with him with his tight grip on your wrist, but you feel Johnny’s hand pluck yours out of his and cradle it, cradle you, to his chest.

But you can’t focus. You see your vision blurring and a ringing, your soul screaming, in your ears is blocking out the noise of Simon’s fists connecting with James’s face.

You watch with horror gleaming in your eyes as you see your husband’s face and body grow more and more unrecognizable by the second.

Why are you just standing there?

“Get—” Simon’s fist interrupts his slurred cries. “—th’ fuck off ‘f me you d’rty bast’rd . . .”

Your husband is getting beaten, and you’re standing in the arms of another? A stranger?

Simon’s eyes. They’re burnt a charcoal black and only seemed to be getting darker by each blow he landed on your husband’s face. It scares you to no end.

“You stain your wife’s skin with that mouth?” A sharp sound, a slap echos throughout the room. Right where your hand hit his face. Right where your hand can be seen on his face as a bright red gone darker by Simon’s force.

Your eyes catch a gleam in the light, a gleam of something sharp, of something used to kill.

A pocket knife.

James struggles to fully pull it out of his pocket but when he does, he grips it with a shaking hand and stabs blindly at Simon’s arm.

You suck in a breath and can only watch as silence consumes the room with Johnnys arms tightening around you.

He didn’t even flinch as the knife was forced into his skin, didn’t even react as he gripped the handle and yanked the knife out of his arm, his blood following the knife like a lost dog before splattering on the ground like abstract art.

Noises of pain and fear escape the opened mouth of your husband, noises that you’ve never heard him make. Only noises of power and rage.

Simon rises to his full height and takes a handful of James’s hair, dragging him up with him add dropping the knife on the floor

“Simon—” You beg, but it’s too late. With the grip Simon has on James’s hair, he pulls his arm back and swings it, swings James, towards the kitchen counter at full force.

His head ricochets off of the counter and he lands back on the floor, right in front of your shaking form.

He lays there sideways and still as the long gash running straight across his forehead leaks blood onto his clothes and floor at a rapid pace. You stare at it as the blood slowly runs towards you.

You’re staring at your husband’s bleeding body.

Simon grabs James’s pant leg, pants that you bought for him, and yanks his body towards him to resume what he hadn’t finished.

When the blows continue, you find yourself wincing at each one, unconsciously sinking deeper into Johnny’s warm body.

A man you just met that day is beating the life out of your husband.

You feel like cold water is raining down on your body.

“Stop—” Your cry escapes your lips broken. “stop, please! Simon please—you’re hurting him!”

You try to push Johnny off of you, try to yank your limbs out of his strong grip but that’s just it. His strong grip is like a snake that captured its prey, rolling its body around it and holding onto it until it dies, until it can’t feel anymore, until you can’t breathe anymore.

“Let me go—Johnny let me go!”

He shushes your cries and doesn’t even bat an eye when you turn to bang your fists on his chest and run your nails down his skin. He just cradles your head to his chest right where his heart is so you can hear his heartbeat and be soothed.

But how can you be soothed when—

“Simon.” You hear him say. “That’s enough.”

Like changing tides; Johnny’s voice sweeps into his mind and altered his landscape of emotions. Changing from the beast in a story to a soft bear.

A bear with blood dripping from its mouth.

Simon stops the torture that he inflicted upon your husband and keeps his back turned to you and Johnny as he stands. Blood, James’s blood, dripping from his clenched fists and escaping into the crevices in your tile floor.

He turns at the waist to you and Johnny. You, who’s still struggling to escape his arms, you whose tears are never ending on your damp cheeks, you who’s watching your husband struggle to breathe, blood exiting his mouth in bubbles, popping and splattering the red mess everywhere.

And Johnny, who watched with a satisfied smile growing on his face.

Bells were ringing in your ears, stars were dotting your vision, your hands were shaking, you can’t breathe. “James . .?” You whisper. Your voice coming out so broken that Johnny almost felt sorry.

He still has his arms around you, still feels your beating heart pound against the cage around it, against his chest, still feels the sting of the bruises and scratches you left on him, the latter leaving blood trailing down his arms, dripping and dripping until they bleed into your dress, bleed into you. He still feels, you.

“What . . . No . . . no, no!” Your wail runs deep and escapes raw from your soul. You wail and it breaks Johnny’s heart, breaks it into tiny pieces scattered all around this cruel world you all live in. This world filled with cruel people.

“You killed him! You killed him!” You struggle, and Johnny grunts out curses as you elbow his stomach, slipping in blood and failing to the floor, your dress pooling at your feet, shaking in the blood staining the floor and dying the front of your once blue dress red. You fall right in front of Simon. Right in front of your husband’s still warm body. Still bleeding. Still breathing.

You burn the part of you that feels disappointed in that fact.

“James,” You whisper, cradling his face, his broken face, his face that is broken and bleeding, in your hands. You know it will haunt you for life. “Please, please, wake up. . . wake up . . .”

Blood was everywhere.

Your cries are silent except for the horror filled gasps you let out in between breaths. Your hands shake and you feel as if the coldest of waters were dumped on you. Hoping there would want you up from this dream, this nightmare.

“Why . . ? Why did you do this . . ?”

Your face is drenched in your tears running down your face, some fleeing into your mouth, making you taste your own sweet nectar tears. A nectar that is sticky and leaves a bitter rather than sweet taste in your mouth, a nectar that clings to things that aren’t theirs and never lets go. A nectar like Simon and Johnny.

“He was hurtin’ ye lass,” Johnny says. “We couldnae let ‘im hurt ye like tha’” He walks towards you, the squelch sound coming from his boots walking on blood make you flinch and cover your mouth in terror with your shaking hands, spreading blood, your husband’s blood, all over your tear stained cheeks.

Johnny squats down next to you, his thighs brushing over yours as he watches you. Watches you process that your husband might as well be dead to you, and he’s not coming back no matter how hard you pray.

You feel Johnnys hand, his warm hand, his soft hand, his dry hand, guide your face to lock your eyes with his.

“Ye know we had to do tha’.” He says. His eyes aren’t bright anymore. Now they’re dark waves at night. Luring innocents into its waters and taking, drowning, keeping. “Right, love?”

Your eyes shift back to James’s body in your peripheral, still feeling the cold gaze of the two men on your face.

His eyes are swollen shut; but if they were open, you could imagine they’d be looking at you, piercing you with that gaze you used to love so much, The gaze you find yourself missing; back when things were good, not burnt and soaked in blood.

His skin is pale. It turns as white as the pure clouds that once blocked the heat of the sun. But now the clouds are dark, they’re dark and they obscure the warmth of the sun to let the cold chill of death sink its claws into the fertile earth.

His chest barely rises with the painful breaths he’s taking.

He’s still alive.

Your shaking eyes peel away from James and they lock with Johnnys’ again.

And you know, with a heavy and pained heart, that he can see the tiny part of you that agrees with him.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, your eyes burned and your head is pounding. All you can hear is ringing. Ringing, screaming, crying, all the same to you in this moment.

You hear someone call your name, you feel a wet hand touch your shoulder, you feel something sharp sink into the fragile skin of your neck.

You feel the cold shadow of darkness embrace you.

Your body feels heavy.

Heavy with guilt, fear, and an overwhelming sadness.

Heavy with whatever drug was forced into you.

In your milky haze, your eyes open slightly and the sun burns your eyes even through the thick curtains blocking it.

You think they’re curtains. They could very well be something else; but they move with such a fluidity in them that you can’t think otherwise.

This room you’re in moves as if it’s a vehicle on a bumpy road, your ears pick up the sound of an animal trotting on the rough road.

Someone moves, blocking the shining sun with their body as they move to learn towards you.

“Sh, Bonnie lass.” A voice coos at you, brushing their—his—hand over your temple to gently move the hair that rested there. “Yer alrigh’, we’re gonnae get ye someplace safe.”

When you let out a hoarse moan in protest to his action, another hand, a bigger hand, pets your hair and plants a chaste kiss on your sweating forehead.

You let out a dry cry and try to move your head in another direction, any direction, but the poison burning your veins and warming your skin is making you a limp doll.

Your lips are cracked and your throat is raw. When you try to speak, the sentence gets lost on the way out of your mouth and only one word escapes.

“. . . home . . .”

The soft voice, the first voice, shushes you again, moving your body and placing it sideways in a laying position so your head rests on his lap and your legs dangle on something else. Someone else.

“It’s gonnae be okay hen, don’ worry that pretty head. We’ll get ye home safe with us.”

You last see the curtains move after going over a particular bump in the road, revealing dancing trees and a large sign; though you only see the last part of it before your body succumbs to sleep:

—POPULATION: TWO HUNDRED SEVENTEEN.

In the murky shadows of the dimly illuminated room, wisps of smoke curled and danced around the man seated amidst the gloom like a dragon.

With each inhale, the ember of the cigar flared, casting fleeting glimpses of their features into the obscurity.

The apple of his cheeks, his beard shining auburn, his eyes that reflected an angry sea.

“She sleepin’?” He asks into the shadows. His voice is rough and deep, his words escape him in a cloud of smoke as dark as his eyes.

“Yes. Brought ‘er in an hour or so ago. A ripe peach she is.” The shadow answers, stepping away from the window that covered an entire wall adjacent to the grand desk. The shadow walks the length of the room to stand in front of the desk, he picks up a random trinket from the desk and starts twirling it between his fingers repeatedly.

“And the husband? Tell me the bastards’ gone.”

The smell of smoke and ash covered the room. But nothing could cover the smell of blood coating the shadows fingers, staining the trinket, the knife, in his hand.

“He’ll never hurt her again.”

- please do not plagiarize, copy, or repost my works to other platforms !

- likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated <3 !!

©miwsolovely

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xzaddyzanakinx · 20 days

Text

Not That Kind of Guy

Part Ten: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker × femme reader series

Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, sexual content/fantasizing, pervy behavior, panty/scent kink, mask kink (Ghostface), gaslighting/manipulation, spitting, cumplay, nude vids/pics, oral, dick piercing, spit, back shots, GEN. SMUT[Be sure to pay attention to future warnings in the series]

Info: Anakin is so annoyed with his mother. He discovers something and Ghost has plans for it. [diary entries from Ani] extremely not proofread. MDNI 18+

Diary Entry: August 16th

I thought for sure you’d kick me to the curb. But just like always, you never fail to amaze me. You like the side of me that no one else does, you like both of me, that’s a miracle if I’ve ever seen one.

I don’t even like both of me.

You chose me, for whatever reasons you might have, pure curiosity or genuine care and interest… I don’t really care. All I care about is that you chose me. You want me. Me. All of me.

You’re choosing both of me. Separately. But soon you’ll love both sides of me, you’ll love me as a whole. That’s something no one has ever given to me. No one has ever wholly loved me, partially because I’ve never shown anyone all of me, partially because I used to fail miserably at balancing the black and white of my being.

Anakin the perfect boyfriend and future husband deserves your daylight love. Ghost the purposely imperfect and probably less than sane guy deserves your midnight curiosities.

I like this. Separating myself this way, it’s more manageable. I’ve tried for years and years to just be Anakin who is always pretending to be the man of the year, but is still just a tad too… off putting.

To everyone back home, I’ll always be the strange guy who only had two friends, himself and the neighbor kid who was only such good friends with him because they grew up in close proximity.

Anakin, the weird kid who didn’t know how to smile properly.

Anakin, the creep who stared too much, not at anything inappropriate. I wasn’t leering at women or anything, it’s just creepy for people to be looked at by someone who has ‘dead eyes’ and ‘doesn’t blink enough’.

Anakin, the ‘well he’s trying’ boy. The poor little guy who brought Brianna a handful of nettles on the playground, tied together with worms. ‘He meant well! He’s trying to be nice sweetie.’

Anakin, the ‘turn out your pockets before you come inside’ kid. You come home with a dead squirrel in your hoodie pocket once and your mother will never trust you not to have another stashed somewhere.

‘hey, it’s not that I don’t think you’re great! I do! You’re just not… great for me.’

‘please don’t look at me like that, it makes me uncomfortable’

‘Get away from my yard, I know what you’re doing!’

‘Who’s cat is that? Anakin! Where did you get this?’

‘Ani, you can’t keep doing this. I can’t protect you forever!’

‘Don’t you want to have friends? A girlfriend? To grow up and have a family? Don’t you want that?’

I was always Anakin-weird as hell, psycho, town freak-Skywalker.

In your daylight love I can be Anakin-nice guy, perfect smile, warm hugs-Skywalker.

I can shove everything else into The Pit until I’m ready to put on that Ghostface mask and take off my mask of normalcy. Weird isn’t it? Putting on a mask just to take off another one?

I like it though. I really like it.

I can be normal for you. I can. I can be normal. As long as Ghost can be let out of The Pit sometimes. No more balancing on the edge for Anakin. No more hiding and pretending and suffocating myself with the act of being a person.

If I can flood Anakin with all the things I’ve learned over the years, all the knowledge I’ve stored away in my mind’s filing cabinets… then you can have the man you deserve.

You’ll just have to come to terms with the fact that once Ghost makes his appearance, your Anakin is gone until further notice.

I think you’ll do well with that. You’re already handling it swimmingly.

Diary Entry: August 17th

You left me a note of your own this morning, a question I wasn’t expecting in the slightest. When I walked into the kitchen and finally cracked open the diary you’d left laying there for me I was shocked. Absolutely and completely shocked.

‘When are you coming home?’

You’re asking Ghost to visit you? For real? I don’t even know how to react, I never thought you’d be the one requesting the company of my masked presence. I guess giving you an option, proving your feelings and your well-being mattered most to me was the right move.

Now I just have to figure out what I’m going to do. I’ll have to plan. I need to think.

I have to be so much more careful now.

Date

August 18th

This is the first time Ghost hasn’t responded when you’ve contacted him. It’s been three days of nothing. He’s not been inside your house at all, no gifts, nothing has been moved, your cat’s bowl is empty when you get home.

His absence is more unsettling that his presence.

You’re beginning to wonder if you’ve angered him by asking about his next visit, was that the wrong thing to do? Did it freak him out? Asking about his plans… did it make him uncomfortable? Or is he tired of the chase now? Now that you’re interested… is it possible he’s lost the adrenaline rush of it all and he won’t be back at all?

There’s no time to ponder or worry right now, yet here you are staring into the foggy mirror in your bathroom post-shower.

“Hey sweetheart?” Anakin’s cheery voice floated to you from under the door.

“In here!” You called out, opening the door up and wiping off the mirror, grateful to have been pulled out of your mind.

“Want help picking something out?” He asked, wrapping his arms around your middle, pressing his nose to the crown of your head to smell your freshly washed hair.

“Mmm yeah if you want.” You nodded, smiling at him in the mirror.

“You excited?” He grinned, poking your sides to hear you giggle.

“Yeah… a little bit nervous though to be honest.” You confessed.

“What? Why? They’ll like you, I have no doubts.” He said with a reassuring squeeze to your shoulders.

“I know, it’s just… what if they don’t?” You asked nervously, looking away from his intense gaze in the mirror.

“They will.” He whispered kissing your temple.

“But what if they don’t?”

“They will, but, if for some reason they don’t then they’re stupid.” He shrugged his shoulders. “But I know they will okay?”

“But Ani I’m worr-“

“Hey.” He said sharply, catching the words before they could leave your lips. “That’s enough.” He said in a softer tone.

He sighed, grabbing the hair brush from the sink countertop. He started brushing through your wet tangles, starting at the ends and working his way up.

“You’re important to me. They know that.” Anakin whispered, kissing your shoulder. “They know you’re something special, trust me. I’ve never brought anyone to meet them before.”

“Seriously?” You whipped your head around with a horrified expression on your face.

“Yeah seriously.” He nodded. “I’ve never felt like this for anyone else.” He gently directed your head back to face the mirror so he could continue brushing your hair.

“That makes it even worse!” You squeaked, slumping over against the sink, your arms crossed on the cold Formica top with your forehead rested on them.

“Why?” He asked as he sat the brush aside and placed his hand on your back, rubbing up and down the soft fabric of the towel around you.

“I’m the first girl you’re bringing home!” You said exasperatedly, “they’re gonna be expecting someone like… like super great and amazing.”

“You are super great and amazing.” He laughed, squeezing your hip and patting it gently.

“But-“

“Baby stop.” He said softly. “You’re gonna work yourself up all over nothin’. Please, just trust me okay? They’re gonna think you’re perfect.”

“Okay.” You sighed, standing back up and turning around to hug him tightly. “Alright. Let’s get ready then.”

“I’m ready.” He said gesturing to his tight grey crewneck and ripped black jeans. “All fancy and shit.”

“I wouldn’t say fancy, but I would say hot.” You grinned.

“Stop.” He chuckled, “should I go change? I can’t have you drooling over me at the dinner table with my parents.”

“No, no don’t change.” You shook your head with a giggle. “I can wait.”

“You can wait?” He gave you a devilishly toothy smile. “Wait for what darlin’? Does baby need some attention?”

He picked you up and sat you on the sink counter, giving your ass a firm squeeze. Immediately bringing one hand to your cheek, his thumb on your chin, he tilted your head to the side and hovered his lips just over your skin. Barely grazing the softness of his lips up the length of your neck to the dip beneath your ear. His free hand rubbing up and down your side, as he finally pressed a hot, open mouthed kiss to your sensitive flesh.

“My girl only waits when I say so.” He whispered, nipping your earlobe.

He nuzzled into your neck, bringing your ass to the edge of the sink with one arm, using the same hand to slip beneath your towel and travel up your abdomen. The towel fell from where it was tightly tucked at your chest, Anakin’s hand cupping your breast gently as he thumbed at your nipple.

His lips soldered to yours in a passionate caress of lips and tongues, you could taste the minty flavor of the gum he constantly chewed, the forever lingering ghost of cigarettes and the delicious savory flavor that was uniquely him.

He was so good at distracting you with his mouth on yours that he could get away with just about anything and you’d never know until it was too late. Just like now, when you heard his belt buckle clank against the bathroom tiles. You couldn’t help but smile, it was something so simple, but it was one of your favorite things.

The sound will forever be associated with every kiss, every touch, every gasp and breath he’d given you and every intimate moment to come. The jangle of his belt buckle coming loose meant falling apart in his arms, it meant love without saying it aloud.

Anakin snickered as he teased your opening with one finger, swirling it around the outside, never fully dipping inside.

“Greedy little pussy.” His deep bedroom voice never failed to conjure up a gush of slick to your already drenched cunt. “So fucking wet already.”

“Mhm.” You nodded, wiggling your hips closer to his hand or at least you tried to, Anakin held you firmly in place, tsking at your attempt.

“See? Greedy.” He chuckled but gave in anyway, finally pushing in one digit to twirl around your gummy walls while he pumped in and out slowly.

“Can’t help it.” You panted, breathing heavily despite the relief of getting what you wanted, you needed more. “Missed you Ani.”

“Oh poor thing, I missed you too.” He cooed, adding a second finger while he rolled his wrist as he thrusted his fingers deeper.

Just as you were about to speak again, the shrill sound of your phone alarm blared next to you on the counter top, making you both jump.

“Jesus! what the fuck.” He snorted, “pause baby.” He said as he reached over to turn it off and check the time.

“I’m so glad you set shit like that or else we’d never get anywhere on time.” He said with a smile. “Now, hop down and let me bend you over.”

“What we’re doing a quickie?” You teased as you did as requested, sliding off the sink and obediently bending at the waist for him.

“As much as I hate it, yes.” He sighed. “You know I like to take my time.”

He said as he rubbed his rough palm over the swell of your ass, tugging his boxers down with his other hand. He shoved his palm under your chin and tapped your cheek.

“Spit.” His voice was rough and gritty, like he he was straining, fighting not to ram himself into you right that very second.

You spit into his hand, earning a mumbled: “Atta girl.”

He slicked his cock with your saliva, stroking himself quickly with the head of his cock pressed to your entrance, pleasuring himself but just torturing you with the heat of his length.

“Ani!” You whined, pushing your hips back against him.

You’d done exactly what he wanted. The second you pushed back he rammed his cock deep inside your pulsing heat. He set a brutal pace, wrapping one arm around your chest. Your hands instinctively flew up to hold onto his muscled forearm, his grip tightened and you gasped in surprise.

“Christ Anakin.” You breathed out, your eyes wide with shock at this sudden change of pace.

He was a slow and sensual lover, he liked to take his sweet time and caress every curve and kiss every centimeter of flesh that he could reach. But this was completely different, this was pure hunger, hips snapping against your ass at a punishing pace.

His other arm came down your stomach and spread your pussy lips apart to press and pinch the little hard nub that would have you shaking beneath him.

The way he was breathing so heavily in your ear, the hot air fanning over your cheek, it only heightened the feeling. Sending goosebumps down your skin and perking up your nipples again. The sound of your wetness was loud enough to hear with each and every plunge of his cock.

“You like it like this baby?” He chuckled, “sounds like you like it.”

“Uh huh.” You nodded rapidly, gripping his arm tightly as a particularly sharp streak of lightning shot through you.

Your pussy clenched down around his cock and you closed your eyes to concentrate on the feeling the metal jewelry at the tip of his cock gave you as it stroked your insides roughly.

“Making such pretty noises,” he moaned, tilting your head back and to the side using your hair, to properly reach your mouth so he could ravage you with his tongue just as he was with his dick.

“C’mon baby, let me hear it.” He panted, sucking your lip between his teeth.

“That’s it, yeah there’s my girl.” He laughed, watching your eyes roll back until just the whites were visible. Your eyes fluttered shut as your cunt pulsed around him.

“Fuck… Fuck that’s- right there… please?” You whined, trapping his hand right where it was with your fingers digging into his wrist.

“Good manners.” He praised, licking along the length of your jaw. “Good manners baby, so proud.”

“Just like this huh?” He questioned teasingly, a smirk on his lips caught your attention in the foggy mirror. “You like the piercing don’t you baby? Feels good doesn’t it?”

“Fuck yeah.” You moaned, squeezing your eyes shut tight while you waited for him to push you over the edge. “L-love it. Don’t ever fucking take it out again.”

“Sure thing baby.” He snickered. “You ready sweetheart? Getting close aren’t you?”

“You can cum.” He said as you nodded, his forehead now resting on your shoulder as he drilled into you, rolling your clit between his finger and thumb.

The coil that had been wound tightly in your core snapped with his permission, a high pitched groan eeked out from between your gritted teeth, your cunt leaking down his shaft as he fucked you through the high.

“Lean down.” He said as he pulled out abruptly, leaving you gaping and gasping for breath.

“Perfect.” He groaned, one hand on your waist as you pressed your torso against the sink counter.

He stroked his cock wildly, his fingers digging into the plush of your waist, squeezing soothingly when his chin dropped to his chest and he stiffened up, holding his breath. All you could hear was the sound of his slick hand pumping his swollen length over your ass.

Until finally you felt the warm spurts of cum splatter on your skin, the viscous fluid dribbling down your lower spine until it slid over your ass hole.

“Fuck, that looks so damn pretty.” He breathed heavily, standing back to take in his art work.

“I should take a picture.” He whispered, kneeling behind you with a hand under each ass cheek, he licked up his own cum with a satisfied hum.

——————————————————————————

Approximately an hour after Anakin defiled you in the steamy confines of your bathroom, you were walking hand in hand into one of the nicer restaurants on the outer circle of the city. Meeting his mother terrified you, his stepfather not so much. Anakin didn’t grow up with him, he wasn’t a staple of his childhood.

But his mother was. She was a single parent, worked so incredibly hard to provide for herself and her son. She made sure he had everything he needed and then some, she was truly a saint.

“Chill out.” Anakin whispered, squeezing your hand gently. “You’re okay.”

You nodded and silently let Anakin pull you along behind the host who was leading you to the table where his mother and stepdad waited for you both.

You laid eyes on his mother first and the smile that spread across your lips was genuine. As soon as you saw her your worries started to slip into the backseat of your mind. She exuded a calming atmosphere, she seemed so serene and unbothered. What you’d give to live life like that.

You could see where Anakin got his comforting nature from, especially as she stood up and extended her hand to you. The gentle smile and warmth in the crinkle of her eyes was enough to melt your heart.

“I’m Shmi.” She introduced herself in a soft tone, looking to her side where her husband sat. “This is Cliegg, Anakin’s stepfather.” He gave you a nod and warm smile after clapping Anakin on the back in an awkward side hug.

“It’s great to meet you guys!” You chirped, introducing yourself quickly.

“You too sweetie.” Shmi smiled, moving to envelope her son in a hug.

“Hey momma.” Anakin chuckled, squishing her shorter frame in a big bear hug. “Miss ya.”

“Missed you too hon.” She said quietly, patting his chest before returning to her seat.

She gave Anakin a little smile of approval when he pulled your chair out for you to slide into, you wanted to gush about how grateful you were that she’d raised him to be such a gentleman but you got the feeling that she already knew.

The four of you engaged in a bit of small talk while looking over the menu options, you refrained from even picking up the menu, getting an odd look from Cliegg who just chuckled and shrugged his shoulders as if to say ‘suit yourself’. The waiter returned with ice water for everyone and a bottle of wine for the table, getting ready to take orders with their pad and pen at the ready.

After Anakin’s mother and her husband ordered, Shmi looked at you expectantly but you just gave her a small smile as Anakin ordered for the both of you.

“Anakin.” She chided him after the waiter left. “She’s perfectly capable of speaking for herself.”

“I know she is.” He said firmly. “But she shouldn’t have to when I’m perfectly capable of doing it for her.”

“Shmi it’s okay really.” You laughed light, knocking Anakin’s foot with your own as a warning. “I prefer it honestly. I think it’s sweet.”

She gave you an odd look, her face was soft just as it had been the whole night so far, but her eyes conveyed something that you couldn’t quite place.

“Alright sweetie.” She conceded and nodded, the look passing over her eyes just as quickly as it appeared.

Anakin’s arm slid around your waist momentarily to offer some comfort, gently squeezing your hip and tapping his thumb rhythmically while he jumped straight back into the conversation he was having with his stepdad.

“So, Anakin’s told me quite a bit about you.” Shmi said warmly. “He said you’re a waitress and you’re taking classes at the college?”

“Yeah, that’s right.” You nodded happily. “The Bluebird Diner, it’s a real great place. Anakin’s a big fan of the butterscotch pie.” You smiled.

“The college… yes I’m taking classes. They’re all going well but I’m not set on a major yet and it’s getting to be the time that I decide.” You sucked in an anxious breath, giving her a nervous look.

“Well that’s perfectly fine.” She said, surprising you with her acceptance of your unplanned career. “I dropped out after my freshman year and didn’t complete my degree until Anakin was in highschool.” She explained.

“Oh really?” You raised an eyebrow, glancing at Anakin’s side profile while he spoke to his stepfather. “Do you mind if I ask why?”

“Why I dropped out?” She asked, leaning back in her chair. “Well it was for a few reasons. Mostly because it’s difficult to work, educate yourself and raise a child alone.”

“I can imagine it would be.” You agreed with a humored smile, expecting to be met with a similar expression by Shmi.

Though you weren’t, instead she had a strange sort of reminiscent look about her. Not the fuzzy feeling of nostalgic reminiscing, more of a moment of remembering something unpleasant.

“Yes.” She nodded, “Anakin didn’t make it any easier.”

“Oh…” you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion at her sudden shift in demeanor.

It seems she noticed your body language change and she quickly corrected herself by breaking out into a smile, sitting back up straighter in her seat.

“But what kid doesn’t?” She laughed lightly, reaching out to pat your hand affectionately.

“Right,” you nodded, chalking up her strange switch up as a mother remembering her rowdy son. It must be hard, seeing him grown up and finally bringing a girl to meet her.

“So how did you two meet?” Shmi asked, turning in her seat to face you fully, giving you her full attention. “Anakin said you’re neighbors?”

“Yeah! Yeah that’s how we met officially.” You nodded.

“Officially?”

“Well we found out after we’d talked a few times that we actually met at the bar he works at.” You explained, “he made a drink for me. I thought he looked like… semi-familiar, you know it’s hard to miss the tattoos.” You smiled.

“Oh that’s very true.” Shmi laughed. “Definitely stands out.”

“Yeah, so we officially met the day he was moving in across the hall from me.”

“Oh you’re telling her about move in day?” Anakin cut in with a big grin on his face.

“Mhm.” You nodded happily, gazing at him with a hint of adoration in your eyes. “Anakin had his stuff strewn out in the hallway and I knocked over a stack of his books.” You laughed and he squeezed your shoulder lightly.

“Yeah, then we chatted for a bit and she noticed a book of mine that she’d lost her copy of, so I gave it to her. That’s how I snatched her up.” He said proudly, gesturing to you with both hands like he was presenting a trophy.

“Huh, who knew you had a little romantic streak?” Cliegg laughed.

“Oh he definitely does!” You agreed eagerly.

“Well Anakin I have to say: I’m extremely impressed you’ve found such a lovely girl.” Shmi said softly, glancing at you with those warm eyes.

“Took you long enough.” His stepdad smacked his upper arm with the back of his hand with a deep laugh.

“Hey, I was holding out for the right one.” Anakin said with a satisfied smile. “I wanted my forever girl and I found her.”

——————————————————————————

The rest of the night went smoothly, no hiccups, no awkward moments, nothing you’d worried about came to fruition. His mother was as sweet as could be and her husband definitely suited her well. All in all, you were happy to have had the opportunity to get to know them. You were proud to be the first girl worthy of meeting them and you were thrilled that they seemed to like you as much as you liked them.

“See? Told you.” Anakin whispered, walking beside you out of the restaurant.

“You were right.” You sighed. “Nothing to worry about.”

“I was what?” He fake gasped, one hand coming up to cover his mouth dramatically.

“You heard me and I’m not repeating it.” You giggled, bumping him with your shoulder.

“Good enough for me princess, I’ll take it.” He smiled, pulling you close and pressing a chaste kiss to your hair.

You said your goodbyes to Anakin’s parents just outside the entrance, a full, loving hug from Shmi and a ‘you’re great but we’re not there yet’ double hand squeeze on one of yours from his stepdad.

You’d just started walk to the car when Shmi called out to Anakin, causing you both to swivel around.

“Ani, sweetheart can you come talk for just a second?” She asked sweetly.

“Oh… yeah okay.” He nodded, handing you the car keys.

“I’ll go see what’s up baby.” He said with a soft tone, “go ahead to the car.”

You followed instructions and did exactly as he asked, climbing into the passenger seat of his car and starting it so you could listen to the radio while Anakin was gone. You didn’t think much of it, it was probably just a bit of an after dinner debrief.

Anakin jogged over to his mom and leaned against Cliegg’s truck while he climbed in, leaving just Shmi and Anakin to speak alone.

“Ani she’s a wonderful girl.” Shmi said, squeezing his arm gently.

“Yeah she is, she’s perfect isn’t she?” He gushed, his pupils widened at just the thought of you.

“Yes-“

“She’s just… everything. She’s everything to me.” He continued, picking up his mothers hand.

“Just w-“

“I mean I really believe she’s the one mom.” He squeezed her hand, running his thumb over her knuckles in an affectionate way. “Really I do, she’s perfect. I- I’m so glad you guys like her, I knew you would of course but she was just so nervous and-“

“Anakin!” Shmi said sternly, her voice quickly going back to a calm tone after getting his attention.

“Anakin, sweetie, I’m so glad you’ve found your person.” She started slowy, holding eye contact with her son’s intense gaze. “I’m proud of you, you know that don’t you?”

“Yeah of course-“

“I’m proud of you. You’re a good boy honey.” She said quietly, “she’s a sweet girl, she deserves the best.”

“Well yeah she does, of course she does and-“

“Are you being your best?” Shmi asked him, her voice turning hard, alittle sharp. “Swear to me, Anakin. Swear you are?”

“Yes mom.” He sighed as though he were expecting this conversation.

“Are you still taking your medicine? Seeing your doctor?” She asked worriedly.

“Really?” He scoffed. “Please, let’s just drop it. This was a good day, please don’t ruin it by worrying over nothing.”

“Are you though?”

“Yes!” He hissed, clenching his teeth tightly. “Yes I’m still seeing the doctor and taking the stupid pills, yes.”

“Good. Very good.” She breathed a sigh of relief at his compliance.

“Don’t ask me if she knows.” Anakin said sternly. “She doesn’t.”

“You can’t just keep that from her, she has a right to know Anakin!”

“It’s not the right time for that.” He raised his voice slightly. “She doesn’t need to know yet. I’ll tell her on my own terms.”

“But you can’t-“

“I said: I’ll tell her on my own terms.” He breathed deeply, keeping his temper in check. “Please mom, just… just be happy for me okay? I’m doing really good, I’m happy. Please just let me be happy.”

“Alright.” She sighed, nodding slowly. “You’re right. I’m sorry sweetie, I shouldn’t have questioned you like that.”

“It’s okay. I know you worry.” He mumbled, pulling her into a hug, his hand rubbing between her shoulder blades.

“I- I just so badly want you to be happy.” She said quietly. “I want you to be safe, happy, and loved. You deserve to be loved.”

“I am loved.” Anakin whispered, his voice rough, “You love me. Cliegg loves me. Owen probably loves me. I think she might love me too.”

“You think so?” She asked in a brighter tone.

“Yeah, I do.” He nodded, pulling back with a soft smile.

Diary Entry: August 18th

I love my mother, but she worries too much. Talking to me like I’m some child to be coddled and babysat. I don’t need her or anyone else to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do, especially when it comes to you, my little doe.

I know what’s best for you, for our relationship, and it’s my opinion that you don’t need to burden yourself with my past transgressions. I’m a changed man, what I did as a teenager, as a kid, has no reflection on who I am today.

Telling you about it is out of the question. At least for now… but, it’d probably be for the best to never, ever speak of it. I just don’t see the point in sharing something like that with you when it would cause your pretty little head to worry over something so irrelevant to the present.

Not to mention the stupid fucking doctor. It was ridiculous, asking me such a personal question when she knows very well that it upsets me when she interrogates me like that. It’s none of her business anymore, I’m not a child, I can take care of myself.

If anything, her questioning and distrust makes me want to do it even less just to prove that I can live without it.

I don’t need to see a fucking shrink if I’m taking the pills right? It’s overkill to do both. I don’t need to talk about my feelings, I don’t need to tell a stranger all about my past and the questionable things I’ve done. That’s why I have a journal and I think it suits me just fine.

Just another reason why I love you so much. You’ve helped me by getting me into writing stuff down instead of keeping it bottled up. You’re responsible for the thing that helps keep me from spiraling, you should be so proud of yourself, showing me this A+ coping skill.

It’s way better than: ‘Breathe in… breathe out… focus on your surroundings and count the things you can see and feel.’

Like what the hell is that? What’s that supposed to do? Distract me? Yeah right.

It can’t distract me from what’s going on in my head. Not when it’s so much all at once, all the time. It was exhausting to pretend that something like that was working for me. Journaling is so much better. So much easier.

It’s real and it’s tangible. I can flip through the pages and return to the good things, or I can skip over the bad stuff but take comfort in knowing that I was able to write it down.

So fuck the shrink, I’m not going back. I haven’t been in months and I’m doing perfectly fine.

Diary Entry: August 20th

I cannot for the life of me figure out what the hell I’m going to do. I’m grasping at straws here, trying to figure out how to handle the Ghost situation.

I can tell you’re getting annoyed.

How am I supposed to respond? I know it’s been days but I can’t bring myself to answer the texts, the notes, the questions shouted into your otherwise empty home.

Hopefully you’ll understand, though I acknowledge that you have every reason to be upset with me. I’m assuming you’re feeling some sort of betrayal after the letter… I hate that. I really hate it. But it’s unavoidable.

You responded extremely well to my offer and the opportunity for a choice. So I’ll just do that again. That sounds reasonable, I’ll give a bit of an explanation, little apology and then I’ll let you choose what happens next.

This is what happens when I don’t fully plan ahead. I fuck things up and then it’s just a gommed up mess.

Then the whole situation with my mother really threw me off. It just added another layer of ‘what the hell’ to my already high stack of self imposed problems.

I want to do something. I need to do something. I have shit to get off my chest.

Date

August 22nd

Finally, finally Ghost has gotten back in contact with you.

Now that the little grey envelope is sitting on your nightstand… you almost don’t want to open it. After all the silence on his end it’s impossible to guess what he has to say. Though as you’re convincing yourself not to open it, it’s found it’s way into your hand.

LETTER

Little Doe,

My absence was unexpected for you as well as myself, for that I apologize. I would go into detail if I could but unfortunately we both know that I can’t do that.

Let’s just say that my life got a bit complicated and I had to take a moment to iron things out. Now that everything is starched and pressed it’ll be back to business as usual.

While I was gone I took some time to consider your question as well. So I’ll match you with a question of my own.

I’ve been… stressed to say the very least. I don’t like to be destructive, I’m not that kind of guy. So I was wondering if you’d help me out, give me a bit of an alternative rage release?

Don’t lie, I know you’re curious. I know you want me just as badly as I want you. I bet you’re wet just reading this, aren’t you? I think it’s high time for you to be conscious enough to really enjoy everything I’m giving you. Don’t you agree?

I heard you like it rough. Is that true princess? I’ll give you rough, just say the word and I’ll make sure you’ve got marks that’ll last for weeks.

Next half of the question: here or elsewhere?

You sure do love to show off that little body of yours. I wonder if that would translate over into your sex life if you’d let it.

Your choice little doe.

——————————————————————————

‘He did not just ask me that… did he?’

You stared at the letter in your hands, your mind going well over the speed limit on the road to rational thinking. It was tempting, oh so very tempting. He’s right of course, he always is, you are curious. You do want him, maybe even need him.

It’s obvious he’s more than capable of giving you what you needed, what you wanted. The man had you feigning for him for weeks with no relief, all from teasing you, all while you were unaware.

It would be… interesting to see for yourself in the waking world what he’s done to you in dreamland. It’s alright if it’s for research purposes isn’t it? Is it really cheating if you don’t know the person at all, his identity is a complete mystery; that should count for something right?

Just a smidgen of a mitigating factor would be enough to sway you to say yes.

“Hey.” You called out, waving your hand as if he were there with you and you were trying to get his attention. “You listening?”

*Ping* a text came through almost immediately: ‘Always.’

“You’re serious about this?” You asked, holding the stationary in one hand, gesturing to it with your other.

‘I’m always serious.’

“Right.” You sighed, pulling your legs up to sit cross-legged. “I don’t think this would be very kind of me to do. I just met Anakin’s mother, our relationship is getting serious.”

‘Congrats. What does that have to do with my need to fuck you?’

“Uh everything.” You scoffed. “That’s cheating. I don’t want to cheat on him!”

‘Defensive are we?’

“Yes,” you hissed, scrubbing your forehead with the palm of your hand, “very defensive for good reason.”

‘I admire your loyalty, but be honest with yourself little doe.’

“I am being honest! I don’t want to cheat on him!” You shouted back.

‘You didn’t say that you didn’t want me to fuck your though.’

“Christ.” You mumbled, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“I didn’t say that. You’re right.” You conceded.

‘Then it’s a yes?’

“Not necessarily.” You snapped, the true answer was right there, clawing away in the cage of your teeth.

‘So no then.’

“That’s not what I said.” You said hastily, alittle too eager to correct him.

‘I see.’

“What?” You scoffed, staring at the message that’d popped up.

Another followed, this time a voice message. You hesitated before pressing play, holding your phon up to your ear to hear it clearly. His gravely distorted voice washed over you in all its unholy temptation.

“Don’t worry little doe. I know just what you need.” He paused for a moment as if considering something, “It’s been a while since you’ve had a night out. Go have some fun, I’ll catch up with you.”

“Oh no. Absolutely not. You’re not knocking me out cold again.” You said angrily.

‘Of course not. I want you to be awake for this.’

“Then… then why do you want me to go to the bar?” You asked suspiciously.

‘Surprise :)’

“Fuck.” You muttered, rubbing your temples before picking up your phone to message Luke and Han, as well as your good friend from book club.

“Just to be perfectly clear: I’m not saying yes!” You said, looking around the room with a red tint to your cheeks.

‘Not a no either.’

You could practically hear his voice, that teasing tone you knew all too well. What an ass, a stupid sexy ass.

DATE

August 24th

“Oh look at you princess.” Anakin whistled wrapping his arms around your waist when you walked out of your bedroom in a sweet little pink dress.

“Pretty, pretty girl.” He mumbled and he nuzzled into your hair, taking a deep breath to smell the scent of your shampoo.

“Oh hush,” you giggled, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. “can’t be saying stuff like that, you’re gonna get me all flustered.”

“What if I want you to be all flustered?” He chuckled, tipping your head back to capture your lips and invade your mouth with a gentle caress of his tongue.

“Mmm taste as good as you look baby.” He whispered, his words fanning over your bottom lip and straight down to your core.

“Anakin…” you whined, looking up at him and wishing for mercy.

“Shhh don’t whine.” He laughed, pinching your chin between his forefinger and thumb. “I’ll quit teasin’… for now.”

“But you do look gorgeous you know?” He said sincerely, very lightly touching your cheek so as not to mess up your makeup.

“Thank you Ani.” You said shyly, leaning up on your tip toes to kiss his nose.

“So what’s the plan again? Dinner at that one Thai place you like? Then you’re going to the bar?” He asked, leaning back against the kitchen counter, his hands resting on the countertop at his sides.

“Yep that’s the plan.” You nodded, checking your bag to ensure you had everything you needed.

“Call me when you get there? You’re walking aren’t you?” He asked, looking at you with a gaze of concern that warmed your heart.

“Yes I’m walking and yes I will call when I get to the restaurant and I’ll text when I’m leaving.” You promised, tossing your mini backpack over your shoulder and giving him a hug and soft kiss.

“Alright sweetheart, I’ll see you at the bar.” He said in a low tone, smoothing out your hair as he held you close for a moment longer.

You left your home and Anakin behind, trotting down the steps to the city streets below. A walk would be good for you, plenty of time to think and plenty of time to clear your head of those thoughts before you reach your destination.

——————————————————————————

Diary Entry: August 24th

I’m so excited. I don’t think I’ve ever been this excited to do something for you.

I know it’s a bit presumptuous, but I think I know you fairly well and if you’re reading those nasty, raunchy books on your bookshelf… well I think it’s safe to say you might be interested in some of it for yourself right? You already think a man in a Ghostface mask with a knife is sexy.

I’m gonna give you what I think you like. I know I will love it. I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time but I was always alittle too chicken to do it. Even before we started dating, before you knew about Ghost. It’s been a fantasy of mine that I’ve thought of way more often than I’ll ever admit.

But now I have your unspoken permission, well at least your non-denial of it. Which isn’t technically consent but who cares; it’s been so blurred between us already.

Honestly its super comforting the way that you so vehemently defend our relationship. I’ve never had someone go to bat for me like that before, it’s endearing. It makes me feel cared for, loved, needed.

I know it’s hypocritical, trust me I know that; but it does kind of get on my nerves as well. I want you to say yes and say it enthusiastically to Ghost. At the same time I want you to scream and kick and tell him to fuck off.

Being jealous of both sides of myself is frankly quite exhausting. I don’t know what I want other than you. I just want you. I want you to want both of me and you do, but that’s also a problem.

You think I’m two separate people and that makes me a tad worried.

The only comfort it brings me is that you aren’t enthusiastically saying yes. You’re denying the truth of course, we both know that. But you’re also keeping some loyalty to our relationship and for that I am so eternally grateful.

I love the way you love me even if you haven’t said it aloud just yet. You will soon.

——————————————————————————

Your group of friends were gathered outside the restaurant, as the last one to arrive, you of course received a light dose of good natured insults and chiding.

“There she is!” Your best girl friend Sam yelled, pointing you out to Luke and Han as you walked up the sidewalk.

“Finally! I’m starving!” Luke sighed liked he’d been waiting hours, according to your phone you were still two minutes early.

“Shut up and let’s get some food.” You snorted, pushing him through the door and into the yummy little Thai place.

After getting settled into your cozy corner booth you placed your orders and slipping into the familiar routine of gossiping and story swapping.

“How did meeting the parents go?” Luke asked, propping his chin up on the heel of his hand, his fingers drumming along his cheek.

“It went so smooth and oh my god his mom is so sweet.” You said, leaning forward in your seat.

“I was so worried they wouldn’t like me, but I think they did. Anakin said they did, I mean they really seemed to at least.” You nodded.

“Oh I’m sure they loved you. You’re the perfect girl to bring home to the parents. You’re the whole package.” Sam smiled warmly.

“You’re too sweet, giving me way too much credit.” You sighed, your smile faltering slightly.

“Anyway… yeah his mom was great. I think she was just alittle worried you know? I’m the first girl he’s brought to meet them so I feel like there was a bit of worry there at the beginning.” You explained, talking with your hands.

“She was talking about him as a kid and she just looked so… sad I guess?” You sighed, trying to find a better word to describe it but came up short. “So I think maybe she was just sad about him growing up, finally finding someone he wants to be serious with.”

“That’s so sweet.” Sam said, squeezing your hand. “I didn’t realize you were the first girl he’d brought them.”

“Yeah,” you nodded proudly. “He said he was waiting for the right one.”

“Ew that’s so gross.” Luke gagged.

“Fuck off.” You tossed a good natured insult at him, rolling your eyes despite feeling an immense sense of accomplishment… maybe a hint of guilt there too.

After the meal was finished, you all walked together out of the restaurant and set out on foot toward The Cerulean. A leisurely pace was set by Han and Luke who were happily at the head of the group while you and Sam hung back just a few steps behind.

“So he’s gonna be here tonight?” Sam asked curiously.

“Oh, yeah but he’s working though.” You said.

“Wait really?” She asked in surprise. “That doesn’t bother you?”

“Why would that bother me? If anything it’s comforting.” You scoffed.

“Well he’s like… he’s just there you know? Not participating he’s just gonna be watching.” She made a displeased face.

“Trust me, I have no qualms with being… looked out for.” You smirked.

“So you don’t mind that he’s going to be watching you the whole night?”

“No, I don’t.” You shrugged, walking the through the door as Luke held it open for the two of you to enter.

You broke off from your friends in search of Anakin, you spotted him behind the bar, animatedly speaking with a coworker that you vaguely remember Anakin referring to as ‘Trev’.

It was like you had some sort of homing beacon, Anakin immediately whipped his head toward you and beckoned you over with two fingers. He trotted around the bar to meet you halfway, sliding his arms around your waist to pull you flush against his chest, pressing his lips to the top of your head.

“How was dinner, pretty girl?” He asked, his voice low and smooth.

“It was good!” You chirped, squeezing him tightly again before he let you go. “Told them allllll about meeting your parents.”

“Good things only I hope?” He laughed.

“Of course. Good things only, always.” You nodded with a big smile.

“It’s not nearly as busy in here as usual.” You observed, scanning the large space and noticing a much lower head count than the times you’ve been here before.

“Oh I know,” Anakin nodded, “there’s some kind of opening anniversary for a pub downtown. Free beer or something like that.” He shrugged.

“Huh, well I’ll have to tell Han.” You said.

“Mhm yeah I’m sure he’d enjoy it.” He agreed, “you going too?”

“No, I’m going home when I leave here.” You shook your head.

“Alright baby, listen, I gotta go back.” He nodded toward the bar. “You know where to find me.”

With that he gave you a chaste kiss to the forehead and quickly walked back behind the counter, stealing a drink order right from under Trevor’s nose as he slid in front of him, you heard him snicker and the *thwap* of a towel snapping against his leg in retaliation as you walked back to your friends.

You spotted them off to the corner, Sam speaking with a shorter man you’d never seen before. You snuck behind her with a cheeky grin and tugged a lock of her hair gently as you passed by, she was unfazed, simply giving you a pink cheeked smile.

“Hey Han,” you called out to get his attention as you drew closer, his head following the sound until he saw you. “You know there’s a bar even going on downtown tonight?” You asked, coming to a stop just in front of him.

“Yeah, it’s at The Drunken Horseman.” He nodded, “I think a few of the guys were headed out there actually. Free beer.”

“W-well why didn’t you go?” You asked in confusion, knowing he wouldn’t have just passed it up for no reason.

“Cause a little lady I know likes it better here.” He grinned, tapping your forehead with his pointer finger.

“Aw, you didn’t have to do that Han.” You said, feeling a bit guilty. “You should’ve said something!”

“Whoa, don’t get all riled up. I don’t mind it at all.” He reassured you. “I can still do plenty of people watching from right here.” He said, knocking his knuckles against the table top he leaned against.

He waved his hand over to the left, your eyes following the gesture until your gaze was met with a younger guy, unapologetically and unsuccessfully trying to speak to a group of girls despite being seemingly incredibly wasted.

“I guess that’s true.” You laughed lightly, the pull of guilt still tugging at your guts.

“Listen, after we’re done here you should go!” You encouraged, “I don’t want to be the reason you don’t get to do something that you wanna do.”

“Babes it’s no big deal.” Luke said, popping out from his seat behind Han’s massive frame. “I think we planned on skipping out a bit early to do exactly that.”

“Really?” You sighed in relief. “Good, I’m glad.”

“We did?” Han asked, looking over his shoulder.

“Uh yes, we had a whole conversation about this yesterday you oaf.” Luke scoffed.

“Oaf?” Han let out a loud, bellowing laugh at Luke’s poor attempt at an insult, making a little smile creep up the corner of your lips as well.

——————————————————————————

You decided collectively to call it a night just a little before 11:00pm so that Luke and Han could still catch Han’s group of friends at The Drunken Horseman. You said your goodbyes to them at the door and turned to face Sam after watching them leave.

“Are you positive you’re okay with walking home alone?” She asked you worriedly, “like absolutely positive?”

“Yes, I’m absolutely positive.” You said with an appreciative smile. “I’ll be fine. I’ll text you when I get home.”

“Okay.” She nodded, satisfied with your answer.

“You better do the same.” You said, catching her arm as she started to leave with the man she’d been chatting with all night.

“I will,” she signaled for him to wait while she got up close to whisper to you, “I looked him up when I went to the bathroom earlier. Arrest records and everything.”

“Good.” You grinned. “Have fun then.”

You spun on your heel to find Anakin and tell him goodbye, heading straight to the bar and catching him in another conversation. This time with a female patron that you’d seen before.

“I don’t understand.” She scoffed.

“What don’t you understand?” He scowled.

“I just don’t get why you’re mean to me!” She huffed. “I come in here all the time and I’m always nice to you, yet you’re an ass every time I speak to you!”

“Then stop speaking to me.” He said flatly, pretending to inspect a glass that he was drying.

“I should report you to management.”

“Please do.” Anakin shot back.

“They’ll fire you, for being rude to customers.” She threatened, crossing her arms.

“They’ll ban you, for harassing employees.” He snorted.

“God. You’re ridiculous, I asked you out one time-“

“Yeah and it was one time too many.” He snapped at her.

“I have a beautiful, wonderful, amazing girlfriend.” He said sternly. “She is my everything and you, are nothing.”

“Like she’s-“

“Listen. Even if I didn’t have a girlfriend I wouldn’t go after a whore with loud ass mouth like you.” He snarled. “Leave. I’m banning you myself.”

“You can’t do that!” She yelled

“He can’t do what?” His coworker Trevor came over quickly after hearing her shout at Anakin.

“He- he’s trying to ban me.” She said angrily.

“What did you do?” Trevor asked the girl and looked over at Anakin.

“Nothing! I was just trying to order a drink and he called me a whore!”

“I did call her a whore.” Anakin willingly admitted with zero remorse.

“Wait is this the one?” Trevor asked.

“Yeah, she’s been bugging me, Jason and Stevie for the last few weeks. Comes in every now and again and won’t take a fucking hint from any of us.” Anakin grunted as he glanced over at her.

“That’s not true I w-“

“Nope. That’s enough.” Trevor said, obviously irritated, he pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of her.

“Hey you can’t do that!” She shouted trying to grab his phone.

“You’re going on the wall honey.” He said, thumbing over his shoulder at a cork board of banned patrons.

“You’re serious?” She scoffed, “you can’t be serious.”

“Deadly. Now get out.” Trevor barked, following her angry path across the bar to ensure that she did in fact leave.

“Baby?” Anakin’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts and you realized you’d been standing there with your mouth open as he tapped the underside of your chin.

“Anakin you didn’t tell me it was that bad.” You said, eyebrows furrowed as you looked up at him, now standing in front of you.

“Ah.” He grumbled.

“I didn’t want to worry you sweetheart.” He said softly, taking both your hands in his. “She’s not coming back now so nothin’ to worry yourself over.” He said with a reassuring smile.

“That’s just awful though. She was doing that to three of you?” You asked in disgust.

“Yeah.” He sighed. “Doesn’t happen often. Usually it’s April and Jess who get the creeps but every now and again there’s a girl who does it.”

“How much did you hear baby?” He asked, pushing hair from your face and holding your cheek.

“Just the tail end of it.” You lied.

“You know I’d never even entertain something like that don’t you, princess?” He asked, lines of worry etching into his forehead, “Never, I’d never even breathe in the direction of another woman.”

“I know.” You said with a small smile, you were being truthful. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind about his faithfulness, especially now after witnessing him tear into a girl over it.

“I know I have nothing to worry about.” You said, giving his hands a squeeze.

You might not, but Anakin does. Anakin does have to worry about your faithfulness whether he knows it or not; there’s a Ghost haunting every corner of your life that has no plans on leaving anytime soon.

“Good.” He said with a warm smile, pulling you into a hug. “Are you leaving?” He asked, pulling g back slightly.

“Yeah I’m headed home now.” You nodded.

“Alright pretty girl.” He said, kissing your forehead. “Be good. I’ll see you tomorrow. Text me when you get home?”

“Of course.” You nodded with a big smile that faded as soon as you turned around to leave.

——————————————————————————

“I saw your girl leaving, you headed out now?” Trevor asked Anakin as he was untying his apron.

“Yep, I’m leaving too.” Anakin nodded, folding the apron and tucking it under the counter. “Unless you need me to stay?”

“Thanks for coming in to help out man.” Trevor said, clapping him on the back. “We got it from here.”

“No problem, you know I don’t mind.” Anakin said, grabbing his wallet and keys. “See ya.”

Anakin left hastily stopping at his car in the back parking lot to grab his essentials. He checked his phone and saw that you’d made an unexpected stop at the little corner store for what he assumed was a snack.

“Perfect.” He grinned, tossing his hoodie over his head and switching out his shoes.

He tucked his mask under his arm and hopped into his car, parking it up the road a bit closer to where you were, just to get it out of his work parking lot. He jumped out, locked it and slipped into the nearest alley. He grumbled but hopped the fence at the end and continued down until he hit the opposite street, running parallel to the one you’d be taking.

“One… two… three… four… there.” He mumbled to himself as he passed by alleys between buildings until he found the one he was looking for.

This particular place was perfect for his purposes, no cameras, no foot traffic, no dumpster, a brick wall on one end and a recessed entrance to the building on the left. A building that was currently up for lease, leaving it tenant free. He scaled the short brick wall on his side of the alley, using the dumpster there as a boost.

Anakin’s sneakers hit the pavement with a satisfying noise when he dropped down from above. He tugged on his gloves and mask, hitting the side button on the voice box while he walked up the alleyway, his phone in his hand.

Your little blue dot was quickly approaching and his adrenaline was running high. His body practically vibrating in anticipation of what he was about to do, with your footsteps in audible range he tucked his phone away and bunched up a black handkerchief in the palm of his leather glove.

Your long shadow came into view, the lamppost casting it down on the side walk below. It shortened with each step you took. Seeing no shadow behind you, no other footsteps, Anakin knew it was safe to enact his plan.

The very second you came into view he lunged forward, clapping his hand with the bandanna in it over your mouth. Instinctively you parted your lips to scream, allowing him to shove the fabric in your mouth as he dragged you by waist and under your arms as you kicked and thrashed.

Part Eleven

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