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m0nsterqzzz · 2 months

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Happy Wife Happy Life

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pairing: Clarisse La Rue x fem!reader

summary: being Clarisse's "wife" will always have it's perks

a/n: honestly don't know how to feel about this but I'm tired. anyway, kinda hate the ending. and my writing lol.

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Love is the greatest thing.

At least, in your eyes it is.

It can bring the strongest people to their knees, risking their lives or others lives just so that they can keep their person happy. It's always been amazing to you.

Not so much in your best friend Clarisse's. She'd much rather have the glory of being the strongest kid in school, or be feared by your classmates. "Love is stupid." She always tells you while she watches you study under the willow tree she likes climbing.

"No, it's not. It's powerful. You like powerful things don't you?" You'd say back with an airy laugh, then forcing her to come back down from the branches so you can help her with her math homework.

She's heard lots about the emotion called jealousy, but she'd never truly felt it until she saw Holly Bracken kiss your cheek during recess one day. The tightening of the chest, the way her throat went dry and she clenched her fist by her side from the other end of the black top and tried to stop herself from throwing the basketball in her hands towards the blonde girl's head. It wasn't a feeling Clarisse liked, and the feeling only went away when you were laying in her arms under the tree after school that day.

That warm afternoon, she'd asked you to marry her with a paper ring, one that you cherished for a whole week until it got caught in something and broke. You'd obviously said yes, the fact that you had a huge crush on her not exactly helping as you forced yourself to remember she was obviously kidding. Sealing the marriage with I do and then placing a chaste kiss on the back of your hand like she'd seen done in the romantic movies her mother likes watching, you were officially hers. As long as you were her wife, Holly Bracken could no longer kiss your cheek with that ugly smug smile.

She went on to make sure of that, introducing you as her wife to anyone and everyone that was willingly to listen. You two were young, and nobody took it quite seriously until she saved up almost a full year's allowance money to buy you a nice looking- but still cheap- promise ring from the jewelry store downtown. It was a silent promise, one that she eventually voiced as you were sleeping over at her house.

"I'll be with you forever." She'd whispered in your ear, and you foolishly believed her.

She was gone three weeks later.

You didn't get a phone call, an email, or even a letter. She just....disappeared.

Her family stopped answering the door for you, seemingly purposefully avoiding you in town. It was months before you finally gave up, and it was obvious to anyone that looked hard enough you were slowly becoming a shell of yourself without her. Without your girl.

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The only thing in your life that is weirder than Clarisse's mysterious disappearance, was the fact that a boy just told you you're a child of one of the Greek gods. You couldn't believe him. You'd learned about the gods in school, but there was no fudging way they were real. You'd only finally agreed to go to some place called Camp Half Blood when he rolled up one of his pant legs to reveal furry goat legs. Nothing will ever be weirder than that.

Just in time too, because right after you left the school building and started sprinting towards the forest across from the place, some giant winged creature that no one else seemed to see crashed through a window and started flying towards you.

Your protector, someone you learned is a satyr named Joey, lead you to camp with minimal death, which you learned is very rare when it comes to leading a demi-god to camp. It didn't help with the newly installed fear inside you, but you just simply nodded along with what he was saying as your eyes scanned the crowds of campers that are doing their own thing below the hill you stand on.

The moment you step past what Joey calls Thalia's tree, all eyes are on you. A new camper means special events so they feel welcome which means more fun for the campers and the drama of figuring out who their godly parent is.

You don’t have any belongings other than the clothes on your skin and the school pencil that’s brought you a strange sense of comfort on your long trip. A female camper with blonde hair and gray eyes comes up and introduces herself as Annabeth, helping you to the “Hermes” cabin to give you a camp t-shirt and new pants. She explains all the new campers go there, at least until they get claimed, which means the kids in there are either children of Hermes, unclaimed, or new just like you.

Since everyone is gone doing daily activities, you decide to just change in the cabin. It’s peaceful, the sound of campers laughter, birds in the trees.

Your blissful silence is broken when someone tightly wraps their arms around you from behind you and lifts you up in the air with a squeal, your hands flying to cover your bra-covered chest. “What the hell?!” You scream, but the profanities you were going to yell out die down in your throat when the person sets you down and you turn around to see Clarisse.

She doesn’t look much different, her hair a little bit grown out and her band t-shirts and jeans have been replaced by camouflage pants and an orange camp half blood shirt similar to the one you’re trying to put on. You’re so starstruck that you just stare, her arms still loosely wrapped around your waist as you stand there in only a bra and jeans. “Clar?” She nods, grinning brightly as she pulls you into yet another hug.

You’re much more aware this time, pushing her away harshly as you hurry to put on the shirt and then leave the cabin with a quick roll of your eyes. The curly haired girl is hot on your tail, attempting to grab your wrist to stop you before you pull it away as if she’s burned you. Her face is full of hurt, but your voice shows the same amount as you ask, “Why didn’t….why didn’t you call? Or email? Or-or send me a fucking letter? Just to let me know you were okay? That you came here.”

She sighs, eyes full of regret as they fall to look at her doc martens so she doesn’t have to see your sadness. “I couldn’t call you because a phone call is like sending a message out to any monsters that could be listening and find out where we are. Email, I don’t have any electronics cuz of the whole call thing.”

“And letter? I bet monsters don’t know how to read Clar.” The girl is silent for a minute, and as the silence continues is when you realize she doesn’t have an answer for you. You scoff, beginning to walk to who knows where again before she runs to catch up with you.

“I’m sorry, okay? I was scared. Gods, I was scared.” The worlds tumble out of her mouth before she can stop them, and the campers around you fall silent as they stare with mouths agape in shock.

“Scared? What’s there to be scared of? It’s just me.” She nods, wordlessly reaching out to hold your hand. You let her this time and she feels relief flood through her. “Scared. I was scared….scared that you would hate me for leaving. I mean, what kind of woman leaves her wife?” She attempts a small laugh, and she takes it as a win that the corners of your mouth twitch upwards in the start of a smile. “I promised you forever and then left without another word. You had been looking at me through rose colored glasses our entire lives, I was scared those glasses were shattered. It’s not an excuse though. I should’ve sent you a letter, told you I was okay and told you how much I missed you.”

A small smile works its way onto your face, but she can still see the sadness in your eyes and she hates it. She hates it when you're sad. “Come here angel.” The girl hesitantly pulls you into her arms, almost crying when you relax into her hold and hug her back before she remembers where you guys are and how many campers are staring in shock at how sweet she’s acting.

“You have to understand that I’m still mad Clar. Even if you were scared, I spent years living in fear you were dead.” You mumble against her shoulder as you grip onto her like she’s going to disappear again if you let go.

The girl nods in agreement, cradling your head to her chest as she glares at the campers in an attempt to get them to leave you two alone. They do it.

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Clarisse brings you to her cabin, cuddling with you in her bed as she tells you anything and everything that has happened over the past. She’s a child of Ares, and you spend several minutes that it makes sense after the amount of times she threatened other kids by saying she should hang them from the top of the flagpole.

By dinner time, it’s like no time has passed, and everyone’s eyes are on you as you two walk in with her arm casually placed on your around the back of your waist as she leads you to her table where her siblings are trying not to make fun of her. After a lot of begging and threats, Chiron agreed to let you sit at the Ares table for your first week at camp. “Hey guys.” Her happy tone is a rare one around her by the look on their faces, the smile even rarer as she sits you down next to her spot on the bench. “This is my wife.”

The whole room goes silent, all eyes trained on you as your eyes dart up to stare at her. “What are you-” She cuts you off with amusement dancing in her brown eyes.

“What do you want to eat, honey?” Clarisse asks you, and a son of Ares you know as Mark scoffs before he says, “The last time I asked you to get me food, you poured your drink in my lap and told me it wasn’t your job.”

The smile falls from your friend's face as she glares at him. “That’s because it isn’t my job.”

“Then why are you getting her food?”

“Because a happy wife equals a happy life alright? Now shut the fuck up.”

The smile is back as she turns to face you again, taking your order before she leaves to get that and her own food.

The rest of the campers go back to their meals, though they’re clearly gossiping about Clarisse’s supposed wife as they eat. It doesn’t make you feel very happy, but all the doubt is gone as your girl comes back and sits down next to you, setting the food down before her hand falls to hold your hand under the table the way she used to during lunch at school.

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A little bit later, you finish eating and join in the group of campers leaving the dining hall towards the campfire with Clarisse walking beside you. “My legs hurt.” You mumble while leaning closer to her. She doesn’t miss a beat as she picks you up bridal style, casually carrying you to the bonfire like you weigh absolutely nothing. Smiling at the sound of your laughter, she sets you down on one of the logs surrounding the fire. “What was that for? I could’ve walked.” You say as she sits down next to you before pulling you into her lap.

“What kind of wife would I be if I let you walk around while in pain?” She grins before leaning her head on your shoulder. She seems happy, and you recently learned she hasn’t felt that way in a very long time so you simply smile before leaving a kiss on her forehead. Her fingers lace with yours, her thumb caressing the back of your hand as she talks to her brother. It’s like no time has passed. Although you’re still upset, it’s nice to have her again.

Clarisse makes you guys some smores, a few people coming up every once and a while to introduce themselves and your friend introduces you the same way every time; “This is my wife.” By the time you’re making your way to the Hermes cabin with her walking by your side like a bodyguard, everyone in camp is aware of the “marriage”.

“I wish you could come stay in the Ares cabin.” She mumbles into the crook of your neck on the porch of Hermes cabin, and you chuckle while rubbing circles on her back. “I think you annoyed Chiron enough for one day.”

The daughter of Ares sighs, reluctantly nodding as she gives you a gentle squeeze before walking away. You watch her walk to her cabin for a few seconds, a permanent smile on your face before you walk inside your crowded cabin.

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The next morning, it’s time for you to join in the routine of chores and training. It seems tiring, but Clarisse is by your side to help you with anything and everything so it’s okay.

“You’re getting better, hon.” She repeats for the 100th time in an hour, and your trust in her words is slowly fading as you sling the sword in your hands awkwardly towards the dummy covered in greek armor in front of you. The girl seems to notice your mood dropping, so she sighs and then stands up and walks towards you. You think she’s going to tell you to take the armor off just stop trying, but you shouldn't have. Clarisse was never one to tell you to give up on something. Instead, she places her hands on your hips, brown eyes straying from your face as she gently moves your body until you're standing in the correct way. You feel like clay under her grip, simply allowing her to position you as your face scans her features.

It’s like something pulling you to lean in, and it’s only when you're inches away from her face do you realize she is leaning in too. As if realizing where you are and what you guys are doing, she clears her throat and backs away, her hands following to rest at her sides. “There. Try again.” She begins to awkwardly walk away, her confidence gone as she almost trips over some armor left on the floor by another camper.

You nervously laugh, taking a deep breath before you slash the sword forward again. The sword feels much more natural in your hand, and it’s almost like an instinct as you angle it so it hits the unprotected parts so it cuts open the material.

Your friend cheers, rushing over to you and easily lifting you off the ground like you just won the olympics. Clarisse has always been that way, proud of every thing you could ever do. With a small laugh, you thank her and finally get her to set you down. “Well done wifey.” The words flow out of Clarisse’s mouth like they’re the most natural thing, and you fake an annoyed sigh.

“You know I’m not your wife right?” You say with a laugh, but she clearly doesn’t find it very funny.

“Then what's this?” Her hand moves to grab your hand, holding it up in front of your face and you try to ignore the way butterflies explode in your stomach from the touch as her eyes lock on yours. With rose colored cheeks- you decide to blame it on the heat and not the feeling of her hand in yours- you finally take notice of what she’s talking about; the ring she bought you when you were kids, snuggly placed on your left hand ring finger. It was a bit too big when you guys were younger, but it fits basically perfectly now.

“It’s a promise ring.” You mumble, walking away to take off the armor and put away the sword. “It’s the closest thing to a wedding ring I could get. And besides, red is my favorite color, the jem is red. It’s basically me, in a ring.” “I didn’t understand a single thing you just said.”

Clarisse sighs, wrapping her arms around your waist from behind the same way she did your first day at camp- though this time she doesn’t lift you up. “Sorry. Let me summarize. You’re my wife, and that is your ring.” You chuckle, turning around in her arms and trying not to think about the way you’re so close you can feel her warm breath on your face. “Fine. I’m your wife.” She takes the win, leaving a chaste kiss on your cheek before she makes her way out of the training grounds to go wash up for lunch.

This girl is gonna be the death of you.

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That night, Clarisse sneaks into the Hermes cabin. She’s used to sneaking out, but she’s never had a reason to sneak into this specific cabin and she almost bursts out laughing when she gets through the window and almost steps on a kid laying on a sleeping bag on the floor.

She easily manages her way through the sleeping kids to get to your bunk in the corner, cringing every once and a while when floor boards creek. You’re awake, staring at the wall and you reach under your pillow to grab a dagger Annabeth gave you when someone puts a hand on your shoulder and tries to shake you away so you can hold it up against their neck.

“Why the hell do you have a knife to my throat?” Clarisse quietly squeaks out, and you sigh in relief before putting the weapon back under your pillow for safe keeping. “I just…I’m sorry.” You think about telling her about the nightmare you were having not even ten minutes ago, but it looks like she’s already aware of it as she sends you knowing eyes.

“You can make it up to me by following me.” One look into her pleading eyes is all you need to reluctantly agree, and she helps you out of the window and then onto her back so she can carry you to the surprise she set up in the forest.

The sight makes you want to grin and cry at the same time; it’s a picnic set on the cliff overlooking the waterfall you told her was your favorite part of camp, all your favorite foods from the outside world placed accordingly on the blanket. There are little lanterns placed all over, lighting up this specific part of the woods. You can clearly see the stars, one of your favorite things, and the cozy feeling of the date-like setting goes against the summer breeze of the night.

“So? What do you think?” Clarisse nervously asks as you look around in awe. “I….I love it Clar.” You reply, pulling her into a tight hug. “How’d you get all these foods?” You quest with a grin. She innocently shrugs, but she’s got a mischievous look in her eyes that only appears when she does something bad. She won’t tell you that she snuck out of camp the same way she snuck out of her cabin to go to the mortal world, sneaking back in a throwing herself into a bush when Mr. D almost caught her.

She sits down on the blanket, patting the spot next to her and then pulling you into her lap when you sit down. “This is so nice….but why?” “Why?” “Why’d you do it?”

Clarisse chuckles; “Because my wife deserves best.” There it is again, the phrase that brings a blush to your face no matter how many times you hear it. “Well, thank you.” She nods, grabbing a chocolate covered strawberry and taking a hesitant bite before humming in satisfaction. “That’s really good.”

You two spend the rest of the night talking and giggling as you cuddle up to her and eat the delicious foods, and by the end of the night you’re lying with your head in her lap as she runs her fingers through your hair. “One day,” She starts, leaning down to kiss your forehead before she continues speaking; “I’m gonna marry you for real.”

With a small laugh, you nod, staring into her brown eyes as you sigh. “I’m okay with that.” You whisper, and for a second it seems like she’s leaning down again. It’s proven she is when her lips connect with yours. Her lips are slightly chapped since she always forgets to put on chapstick before she leaves the cabin, but that doesn’t matter as she’s kissing you like she’s been starved for years. Technically, she has been.

She pulls away, watching with a nervous smile as you attempt to catch your breath and stare up at her in awe. “Was that-was that okay?” You slowly nod, sitting up and then turning to face her before you grab her face in your hands and kiss her once again. She seems surprised, but she quickly adapts as her hands move to your hips and firmly grip them.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since the day you agreed to be my wife.” She whispers as she pulls away and leans her forehead on your own. You giggle, giving her a quick kiss in between love sick giggles. “Me too.”

She begins to talk again, but the sound of hooves galloping near and a loud voice calling out, “Who's there?!” makes her panic. Chiron. You panic as well, and you both messily pick up the empty plates and blanket, shoving it all in the basket and taking your hand in the one that isn't holding the basket.

The galloping is getting closer, and you both begin to run back into the forest- on the way back to camp but still in the opposite direction of Chiron.

You both begin to laugh as you almost trip over a branch, and you have to bite your lip and hold a hand over Clarrise's mouth so Chiron won't hear.

You eventually make it back to the cabins, and you both slow down to a light jog as you near the Hermes cabin. She brings you back to the still open window, and helps lift you up into the slightly cold room. You take off your shoes, and are about to wish her a goodnight and go to bed when you turn around to see her lips playfully puckered.

You chuckle, walking back to the window and giving her a small peck on the lips. “Goodnight Clar. and thank you for a wonderful night.” She smiles. “It was only wonderful because you were there. Goodnight angel.” With that, she leaves towards her own cabin, and you're left staring at her leave with a love sick smile and look in your eyes.

At the edge of the forest, Chiron watches the sweet goodnight with a small smile. “Well I'll be damned….Clarisse La Rue is a softy.” He begins walking to his own cabin with a content sigh. “But they better not sneak out again.”

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#clarisse x reader #clarisse la rue x you #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue #pjo x reader

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familyvideostevie · 3 months

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a kind of hunger | chapter 2

joel miller x fem!reader

series masterlist

an offer from your employer sets your life on track and throws it into a new kind of chaos at the same time. where does joel miller fit into it all?

length: 5.9k

Warnings: 18+ smut, fem!reader, unspecified age gap, heavy petting, joel having a moment with r's tits, hand stuff, dirty talk, painful sex for a second, riding (p in v sex), like a really small smidge of breeding kink, emotional turmoil from r cause what else is she gonna do, some plot! wow! a/n: finally! another chapter. it’s short but i think we’re getting somewhere. Let me know what you think! huge thank you to @macfrog for your eyes and for keeping my sanity in check and @bageldaddy for teaching me how to use commas, letting me borrow your bar, and telling me to just “slutty hallmark it.” this is for you guys.

navigation | 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 | 𝗴𝘂𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀

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Bill’s offer costs you one night of sleep and that’s all.

Taking over the bar goes against every rule you've had for yourself up until now, everything that’s kept you going and on your feet.

You lose when you stick around. You get hurt when you get attached. Always keep moving.

But your night with Joel seems to have shaken something loose. You’ve got a pit in your stomach, a hunger set alight by his eyes and his hands and his attention. It’s like he reminded you how to want, how to stop letting the world turn under your feet and dig in your heels instead.

And there’s what Bill said, the thing that won't leave you alone. You think no one notices, but I notice. We all notice.

It’s easy to lie to yourself about a lot of things: that you don’t mind this life, its constant movement and instability. That it’s made you crafty. That if you picked up and left right now, you’d be fine. No one would miss you, no one would notice. The names and faces you’ve learned would fade as soon as you found new ones somewhere else.

You’ve been a tight fist your whole life, only hanging onto what can fit into your rough and weathered palm, half-moon crescents bleeding that damn desperate hope you can never seem to scrub off. It means a whole lot of avoiding things that could matter so you can’t lose them, can’t let them slip through your fingers. A family who saw your need for space and control and turned it into isolation and disinterest, who drove you away as soon as you were able to leave. College was a bust. Relationships gone sour have taught you not to rely on anyone. Failed experiment after failed experiment, just looking for something to stick. It’s better to be alone, right?

That tight fist keeps anyone out, anyway. It’s carefully rolled bills in plastic bags in the toe of a pair of sneakers just in case. It’s talking just enough to get you a place to stay, a job, a ride, but not enough that anyone remembers your face, even if you wish they would.

It’s not one big thing. It’s a million small ones. And nothing ever lasts. You never last; always cutting and running before it can get real, before they can see the truth of you and find it lacking.

You’ve been looking for the missing piece for years now, the thing that will make you feel like you’ve finally made it somewhere where you’re needed enough to stick around. Where you can stop quitting, where you can put down roots. Where you can be wanted.

You just aren’t sure it’s possible. You’ve done so many things, seen so much, that you feel like it’s too late to be anything other than this.

It’s easy to believe all of that until someone like Joel sees through it – until someone like Bill tells you none of it is true.

Fuck it.

You call Bill the next morning and tell him you'll take over Frank's.

According to him, the turnaround will be quick. He'll have someone "official" draw up the paperwork. You tell him you won't change the name. You tell him you will make some repairs, fix the cracked vinyl booths, and give the floors a refinish, and –

"Do whatever the fuck you want," he grumbles over the phone. "It's your bar."

It sure is.

You own something, now. You belong somewhere – even if it’s just because you have payslips to sign and counters to clean. But maybe this time, if you try hard enough, you can get it right.

You have a meeting to tell the staff that you’re taking over. There are only five of you – two college kids from a town over, the guy who works part-time at the garage by the highway, and an old butch called Pat you find vaguely frightening who’s been working here longer than you care to ask.

It’s probably the first time all five of you have been in the same room. None of them seem disappointed in Bill’s retirement, and they’re on board with your plan for renovations. Especially after you assure them they’ll be paid even if you close for a bit to get it all done.

Joel doesn't come in. You notice, but don’t spare it too much thought. You can’t because the bar is a fucking nightmare all week.

The keg lines keep blocking, the jukebox dies a sudden staticky death, and some asshole scratches the pool table hard enough to tear up the felt. Everyone and everything is pissing you off. It’s an effort not to spend all of your breaks on that milk crate in the alley with your head in your hands.

It feels like Frank’s is hazing you. After all you’ve done for it, you feel a little betrayed.

“Why the hell do you think I’m retiring?” Bill says when you call to bitch about it. “This shit is a fuck ton of work.”

By Friday, you're at your wit's end.

The rush has come and gone, and now it’s slow. Slow enough that you might be worried, but Pat has told you before that this is just how it is in small towns, sometimes.

That, or maybe your bad mood scared everyone off. Maybe they're tired of the shitty atmosphere, of the cloudy glasses and squeaking stools, maybe they –

You pop an olive into your mouth.

“Chill the fuck out,” you mutter to yourself. No one is around to hear.

The only patrons left are some bikers at one of the back tables playing cards. Their laughter is too loud without the music going. The mats behind the bar are sticky under your boots, and your temple has started to throb. You feel like locking yourself in the office just for the silence.

The air shifts when Joel steps inside.

The hunger you feel is a familiar fire, coals that stoke themselves and never go out. Lust, infatuation as you take in his broad shoulders and grey-streaked hair. You’re strung out and a fuck might help.

But there’s also a weight in your chest at the sight of him, one you haven’t felt in a while. It sits heavy above that smoldering flame in your belly, a bruise you can’t stop yourself from pressing on.

Maybe part of you expected him to stop coming in after you fucked. Regardless of how it made you feel, you’re just some woman who serves him two fingers of liquor when he wants to run away from his life. Just someone who gave him one good night and nothing more.

But this weight – this big, thorny emotion that looks like affection and attachment and something real – you don’t know what to do with it.

It’s never been this way with a one-night stand. Yeah, you know the weight of him above you, inside you. You know the taste of his sweat on your tongue, the feel of his head between your thighs. That kind of shit usually doesn’t change anything with you, but Joel is…different.

Careful, that voice inside you says.

Joel peels off his jacket and tosses it on the otherwise empty bar, pushing up his sleeves to reveal his tanned forearms. The stool creaks under him and his gaze is heated as it travels over you. He doesn’t bother to hide the fact that he’s looking.

He shakes his head when you hold up the bottle of whiskey.

"Water's fine," he says.

You blink. If he’s not here to drink then what is he here for?

He seems like he always does. Relaxed, like the room was made to have him in it. But you look a little closer, now that you figure you can. The deep scar on the bridge of his nose stands out and his cheeks are a little pink. The temperature must have dropped once the sun went down. His jaw isn’t tense so much as set, determined. He rubs his chin with a flat palm as you fill a glass using the soda gun.

“Whatever you want,” you say.

He looks around the bar. You figure he's taking in the out-of-order signs on the beer pulls, the flickering light pointing to the restroom, maybe even the goddamn ruined pool table.

You pick up a rag and start to clean to keep your hands busy.

“Quiet for a Friday,” he says. "Things goin’ alright?”

You bristle at the implication. It’s been a shitty week, and you don’t need anyone reminding you that you’re probably not cut out for this.

“Fucking peachy,” you snap.

Joel raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t rise to it. "Seems like things are a little tense.”

You swallow a flash of genuine annoyance.

"All it takes is a roll in the sack and now you're a talker?"

Joel isn't phased. He takes a small sip of his drink, rolls the glass between his hands. Nice hands, you think. Hands that felt so good between your --

"Just makin’ conversation," he says lightly.

You’ve always thought you were hard to read – hell, you’ve been told that many times. One of your flaws, people always say, but it makes it easier to slide in and out of places without too much damage. And yet, Joel, a man who has been in your bed once and sits at your bar when it suits him, sees right through you.

Your shoulders slump.

“I’m just tired,” you tell him.

Joel rubs his beard with one wide palm. He moves his jaw back and forth like he's giving you the chance to shut him down, like he’s chewing on the silence.

"Heard somethin'," he says. "Wondered if it was true. Thought I'd ask."

"Are you asking?"

He eyes you, takes another sip of his water like it's a tumbler of amber liquid instead. Like anything you pour him is something to be savored.

"Guess so."

You set the glass down and put your hands on the wood, leaning towards him with your head cocked.

“Are you keeping tabs on me, Joel Miller?”

“Nah,” he says, eyes flashing before they slide down to your lips. “Ran into Frank in the frozen aisle at the store.”

“And what does that have to do with me?”

The corner of his mouth tugs up. "Known him and Bill a long time."

That explains why he looks like he belongs here. He's probably been in this room more times than you have. All of the things you don't know about Joel hang in the air between you.

"Does Bill...?"

Does your buddy know you fucked me in the apartment I rent from him?

Joel shakes his head. "Frank told me Bill was giving the place to one of his employees. Figured it was you."

And that’s that. But it sounds like a compliment.

“Well, it’s me alright,” you sigh, slumping a bit. “And there's a lot of shit to do.”

Joel puts a hand on your forearm. It's a light touch, a quick one, but it sends sparks along your skin. A moth to a flame.

“Ain’t no small thing. Ownin’ a bar. Big deal, if you ask me.”

You roll your eyes but pride swells in your chest. He’s right. It is a big deal.

And here you are in your bar.

With Joel, who fits into all of this somehow. You just don’t know where yet.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t ask you,” you say with a smirk.

You want to draw it out of him, make him flirt with you for the answers he seems to want. You want something to sink your teeth into after this week, something to play with.

Something to make you feel in control. And that’s what Joel gave you, last time you saw him. He pushed when you pulled, met your touches and your quips with attitude and hands of his own. You felt alive, you felt present. You felt wanted. And it was fun.

If you’re not careful, you might forget what sex was like without that – his attention, his touch. Your name in his mouth. But now that you’re giving staying here a shot, maybe it’s time to indulge. To reach out and take.

Joel snorts. He leans forward and raps his knuckles on the wood. “Should we toast to it?”

You laugh. “I don’t drink on the job.”

He raises his water glass.

“Alright,” you scoff. “Fine.”

You pour yourself some water and clink your glasses together. Joel’s eyes never leave yours, not when he takes a long sip, not when he sets the glass down. He keeps looking at you with that heavy, unshakable gaze.

It’s unnerving, the way he makes you feel. You’re still tired, still annoyed, but there's electricity at the base of your spine, the embers in your belly. You want to talk to him.

You clench your hands around your glass. You want to touch him, too.

“So,” you say. He’s wearing a henley this time, the buttons at the top undone just enough to give you a glimpse of a peak of chest hair. You swallow and flick your eyes back to his. He’s smirking.

“So,” Joel echoes. “Why’d you take it? The bar.”

You shrug. “Seemed like a good deal.”

“Bill ain’t in the habit of good deals,” he huffs. “He must like you.”

It’s an effort to squash your smile. “I don’t think Bill likes anyone much.”

“Real asshole, ain’t he?”

That gets a laugh out of you. “Well, he’s your friend.”

“Not much choice in a small town.”

You hum.

The noisy group from the back stumble their way to the door, waving at you as they file out into the night.

“Those idiots ruined my pool table on Tuesday,” you hiss, though you smile at them.

“Gotta be pretty fuckin’ bad at pool to do that.” He looks around and realizes he’s the last one in the bar. “You closin’?”

“It’s only eleven, Joel.”

His eyes rake up and down your body. Is he thinking about how he touched you, how you fell apart under him? Heat curls lazily in your belly. He runs his finger around the rim of his glass.

“Damn shame,” he says.

Normally you wouldn’t shut for a few hours, but it’s pretty dead for a Friday and…

And Joel is looking at you like that and you want to touch him.

You don’t mess around with regulars.

You’re already breaking your rules by taking over Frank’s. What’s one more?

The pulse between your legs agrees with you.

“Colin,” you call over your shoulder, stepping back from Joel’s hot gaze. The barback appears immediately.

“Yeah?”

“I’m shutting early. Go home. Tonight’s tips are yours.”

He sputters. “Are you sure?” His gaze flicks to the stacks of glasses behind the bar, the tables that still need wiping down.

“I’ll take care of it. See you next week.”

He just shrugs and turns on his heel. A minute later the back door slams and you know the kid is gone.

You lift the bridge and slide out from behind the bar. Your boots are loud on the shitty floors with no one in here and each step to the door feels longer than it should because of his damn stare. You feel Joel’s eyes on you as you lock the door and flick off the neon BAR sign that hangs outside.

When you turn around, his eyes are dark.

Joel stays on his stool, one foot on the ground so that his knees are spread wide, watching you. One hand rests on his thigh, thick fingers tapping to a tune only he hears. His other arm is on the wood of the bar, stretching his shirt across his broad chest.

When Joel looks at you, sometimes it feels like he’s the first person to ever see you.

“Gotta settle up,” he drawls.

“What, you gonna tip me for water?”

“Not exactly,” he says, words dragging in his mouth. “Got somethin’ else in mind.”

The air in the bar sparks and crackles like one of those long Texas summer days when a thunderstorm looms like a threat. The electricity of it crackles down your spine, turns it molten, turns you dangerous. It’s never felt like this before with someone you’ve slept with. Just being close to him is enough to kick your pulse into gear. You feel hyper aware of every part of your body as he looks at you like you’re offering him something better than what you can pour.

Which, you guess, you are.

“And what would that be?”

He hums.

“C’mere.”

You can see his cock straining against the front of his jeans.

“Bossy,” you say. “That for me?” You jerk your chin towards his lap and take your time walking back to him.

He smirks. “You wanna go upstairs?”

As soon as you step between his knees, the hand on his leg moves to your hip. Two fingers sneak under the waistband of your jeans to find bare skin. You brace yourself with one palm on his thigh, another on his neck, and thread his soft hair through your fingers.

“I don’t see why we have to,” you say slowly, watching him carefully. “No one’s here. And I know the owner. She won’t mind.”

The hand on your hip slides further back and his fingers press hard into the swell of your ass.

“Oh, that right?” he chuckles. “Well, as long as we ain’t breakin’ any rules.”

You’re not sure who moves first. You’ve got a few inches on him by being on your feet so you pull him towards you just as he surges up and your mouths meet sloppily, hungrily. Joel tugs you closer and you dig your fingers into his thigh as he swallows your giddy laugh, his beard scratching your skin deliciously.

You’re going to fuck him. In your bar.

“Somethin’ funny?” he asks, lips trailing over your jaw. He’s got both hands on you now, one on your ass and the other on your hip, holding you like he expects you to disappear.

“No, not really–” You cut yourself off with a gasp when he nips your pulse point. “Joel.”

He kisses you again, licking into your mouth. You remember the sounds he made in your apartment and tug on his hair. Joel’s moan is your reward. You press close and grind your hips against the hardness in his jeans and he growls.

“Hard as a rock the second I step in this damn place,” he says, holding you there. You pull back to see his lips spit-slick, his pupils blown. Seeing him undone like this by your touch is just as thrilling as it was last time. His teeth scrape down your neck and he unbuttons your jeans.

“Sounds like a – ah – you problem.”

Joel’s fingers drag through the curls above your cunt before he goes where you really want him. You gasp against his temple when he circles your clit.

“Seems to me I’m not the only one,” he rasps.

The fingertips on his thigh become nails digging in even harder when he slips one finger inside you.

“Gonna leave bruises, sweetheart,” Joel says. Your cunt clenches around him. “You like that? Markin’ me?”

“Maybe I do,” you groan. “You left some last time.”

The angle can’t be ideal but Joel fucks you as best as he can with one finger, then two. You drag his face back to yours and suck on his bottom lip, tugging his hair all the while. Every part of you feels like it’s on fire, like you’re burning up from the inside.

His other hand rucks up your shirt until you tug it all the way off. He pulls down the cup of your bra with one hand and rolls your nipple between his fingers.

You could come like this, Joel’s hands everywhere.

Gripping him through his clothes isn’t enough. You scramble to undo his belt and get your hand in his jeans, button popped and fly down.

He grunts your name when you spit into your palm and take him in hand, velvety soft and tip leaking.

“Careful,” he hisses. “Don’t want to stop this before it starts.”

“I’ll be gentle,” you say. He thumbs your clit in response and you gasp.

Time blurs with his fingers inside you. Your strokes are lazy but he hisses each time you drag your thumb over his tip. Is it going to be this, you two pawing at each other against the bar until someone bursts?

“Joel,” you gasp. “Joel, I want –”

He finally returns to your clit with a strained smirk. The veins in his neck are visible, telling you it’s getting to him, too.

“You remember what I said last time?”

Ask for what you want, you hear me? You ask and I'll do my damn best.

You could have him bend you over the bar. You imagine it, quick and dirty, the wood digging into your waist as he slams into you, flesh on flesh. It would be better than last time, you know it. But you want to see him.

You want Joel’s face in your neck, your hands in his hair as he fills you up. You want to watch him fall apart under you.

You dig your nails into him again and he hisses. You lean forward so your lips drag along the shell of his ear.

“I want to ride you, Joel,” you say.

His eyes flash. He kisses you hard, swirls your clit one more time, and pulls his hand from your cunt. Your knees feel a little weak so you keep your hands on his shoulders.

Joel brings his fingers to his mouth and licks them clean.

“Gotta get at least a taste,” he says. “Just as sweet as I remember.” You surge forward to kiss him. You can taste yourself on his tongue and he groans into your mouth.

“Alright, baby,” he says, breath a little ragged. He thumbs your nipple again. “Where’re you gonna ride me?”

“Booth,” you manage. “Over there.” You jerk your head back towards the cracked vinyl seats he’s never once sat in since you met him. He pats your hips and you step back. The stool scrapes loudly on the floor as he stands.

He cups your cheek with one callused palm and just looks. His hair is a mess from your hands, lips swollen from your kisses. And yet he’s looking at you like you’re the answer to all his problems.

“So damn pretty,” he says.

Somehow you make it to the booth, a tangle of lips and hands, shedding pieces of clothing as you go. Your bra, his shirt, his belt. Shoes toed off and left in a pile, Joel shoves the table between the vinyl benches to the other side so there’s enough room for him to sit, for him to drag down his jeans and boxers and take his cock in one hand.

Your mouth waters at the sight of it. God, he’s thicker than you remember. One of these days you’re going to take him apart with your tongue.

You could just stand there and admire him but you’re so wet you think you’re going to drip onto the floor. His solid thighs, the dark hair gathered into curls at the base of him trailing up to his navel. If you were a painter you’d put him to a canvas.

Joel spreads his legs wide, and you run a hand down his bare chest before balancing on his shoulder as you step out of your bottoms. It’s almost funny – the two of you naked but for your socks, Joel’s pants around his ankles.

You want him too badly to spare a thought for laughter.

A condom comes from somewhere – his wallet, maybe, or his pocket, you don’t much care – and he slides it on with a hiss.

It’s different than last time. More desperate but in a fun way – and you know this won’t be the last time. You know each other’s bodies, now, and this can be quick, can be dirty, because you’ll be doing it again.

So you don’t waste any time straddling him. Joel lines his cock up with your entrance, his other hand on your hip.

“You ready?” he asks. You lean in to kiss him and sink down at the same time in response.

You moan in tandem as he fills you, the angle different from when you were on your back, so different. The stretch is deeper, and somehow you feel fuller than last time. It’s overwhelming, it’s all-consuming, it’s a little painful.

“Fuck,” Joel groans. “So tight. I ain’t gonna last long.”

It really is a tight fit, so tight you think maybe he was right to ask if you could take him without at least one orgasm to prepare you. The girth of him is splitting you in half, stretching you so much you whimper against his mouth.

Joel’s hands cup your face. “Y’okay?” he says, strained. “Hey, talk to me.”

Your eyes are shut tight, knees pressing hard into his solid thighs as you breathe.

“Need a sec,” you say. “It’s different like this, it’s –”

“I know, baby,” Joel murmurs. “Doin’ so good so far.”

He shifts his hold on you just a little and you whine. The vinyl cracks underneath his shifted weight as he whispers an apology into your shoulder.

The pain of the stretch dulls to an ache and you know what’s just on the other side. You roll your hips and the head of his cock presses exactly where you want it. It sends a shock wave of pleasure through you so intense that you fall forward a little, Joel’s face pressed to your chest.

He presses a kiss to your breastbone, so light you almost miss it as you start to ride him in earnest. Your knees press into the rough vinyl and Joel’s lips find your nipple.

“Didn’t give these ‘nough attention last time,” he says. “My mistake.”

His tongue laves at your breasts, one after the other as you swirl your hips over and over. You tug on his hair as your thighs start to burn but you keep going.

Joel’s teeth scrape against your nipples, the skin of your chest as he nips and soothes, nips and soothes. You’re going to be covered in marks tomorrow.

Maybe it’s the thrill of that, of just seeing him again, maybe it’s how bad you want him, who fucking knows – you’re already so close.

Everything fades away but this. Joel is everywhere, on you, around you, inside you…It’s just the two of you, limbs tangled and sweaty, panting each other’s name.

The smoldering in your belly is a fire climbing higher and higher and you’re going to explode with the heat of it.

Firm, rough-skinned hands hold you steady as you lift and sink, gasping every time he hits that spot inside you.

“Joel, I –”

His grip turns bruising as he starts to fuck you on his own, the wet smack of his balls filling the bar.

“I know, baby,” he pants. “I know. You hear that? You hear me fuckin’ you? You’re takin’ my cock so good.”

You plant your hands on his shoulders and try to meet his thrusts.

“Swear I dreamed ‘bout this,” he growls. “How wet you were. Those fuckin’ noises you make when I –” He circles your clit with his thumb and you keen. “There we go. Just like that.”

“Joel –

“Gonna ruin this booth,” he says with a rough chuckle. His forehead is tacky when you press yours against it.

“I – fuck – need new ones anyway, don’t I?”

Joel grins, all teeth as he pounds into you.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he says, breath hot on your lips. “Soak my cock. Know you can, so tight and –”

Your orgasm rips through you, a broken litany of Joel and yes and god knows what else torn from your throat as he fucks you through it. His thrusts become erratic and you try to keep your seat as he finishes with a deep groan.

Joel presses more of those light kisses to your collarbones, the base of your throat, so like the one he left on the back of your hand that first night. You drag your fingers through his slightly sweaty hair.

“I’ll move in a second,” you say, catching your breath.

“Take your time,” he says. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

His grip on you is practically gentle, fingers lazily stroking patterns into your skin. You drag a hand up and down his chest.

It’s tender. It’s…something it maybe shouldn’t be. Something that doesn’t belong in whatever you’re doing.

You get out of his lap as carefully as you can and stand in front of him, naked. Fucking with a condom is smart and all, but you wonder what it would feel like to have him dripping between your thighs.

He doesn’t hide his stare, though it’s not as charged as before. He’s looking just to look.

“Put your pants on,” you grumble at him. He laughs.

You scoop your clothes off the floor and head for the bathroom. The tarnished mirror displays your sated smile and bright eyes. You run a hand over the bruises he left on your neck, your hips. Well-fucked is a good look on you. You look exhausted but happy.

Joel is dressed and back at the tabletop when you return. He’s got his usual bottle of whiskey on the wood, two glasses already sporting a pour each.

“Not workin’ anymore, are you?” he asks you.

You laugh. “No.”

The soreness starts to settle into your thighs when you take the stool next to him.

The momentary silence isn’t uncomfortable. It is comfortable, which is the strange part. Sitting here with him at your bar after he fucked you a few feet away and sipping at your drinks.

Joel, for his part, seems unbothered. You can’t figure him out. It makes you feel a little unsteady to know that he sees right through you, but you don’t know what he’s thinking. Would he tell you if you asked?

“So,” he says. “What’re your plans for the place?”

You sigh. A piece of his hair is sticking up and you tuck your hand between your thighs so you don’t smooth it. It’s different with your clothes on.

“There’s a lot to do,” you tell him. “Jukebox is broken. Neon signs need replacing. Plumbing could do with a refresh. I want to refinish the floors, maybe tear off this ugly wallpaper –”

“Make sure you get a good gel for that,” he says. “Shit’s old and won’t come off easy.”

You lean your chin in your hand and shoot him an amused look.

“Do a lot of wallpaper removal in your spare time?” you ask.

He fiddles with his watch, jaw working around whatever it is he wants to say.

“I’m a contractor.”

“Really?”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he grumbles. “You think I sit on my ass all day?”

Honestly, you don’t know. Most of the thoughts you have about Joel aren’t to do with his job. You have no idea what he does when he isn’t here.

You shrug. Joel rolls his eyes.

“Well, I am,” he drawls. He takes a long sip of his whiskey. “And I know the folks around here who you’ll need. Materials, all that.”

“Are you offering to help me, Joel?” You keep your voice neutral.

He looks at you head-on. It feels like he’s seeing through you again. “If you want it.”

“If we do that, it has nothing to do with…” You gesture between you. “With this.”

Joel just looks at you, letting you sort out what you want to say.

“I mean, I don’t want charity, okay?”

He shakes his head. “Ain’t charity. I owe Bill some favors. This’ll square us up. You’ll cover all the other shit, I guess.”

“It’s not his bar, anymore,” you remind him, but it’s a weak protest.

Joel knocks back the rest of his drink.

You’ve been working out how to finance the renovations all week. All that cash you’ve squirreled away over the years finally has a purpose, other than a cushion in case something really bad happens. It’s looking tight between paying the staff and sourcing the work. You’d only be able to close a week at a time and any delays will fuck the whole thing.

But if Joel’s offering discounted labor, materials on the cheap? You could get it all done faster, get it done right.

“Why do you want to help me?” you ask.

Joel huffs and if you knew him better you’d say it was in offense.

“Let’s just say I’m invested in the state of this place,” he says. “And you really gotta replace those booths.”

Your face feels hot. “Asshole.”

“So,” he says. “You interested?”

It’s not a bad idea. Hell, it might even be a good one. Money aside, Joel, whatever his story is, is connected in this town, and if you’re staying it would do you some good to start making some connections of your own. Start settling.

The fist in your chest, your heart, your mind – it loosens just a little bit.

“I’m interested.”

Joel knocks on the bar once, twice, and stands. He digs in his back pocket for his wallet and hands you a business card with his phone number.

“I’ll be here Monday morning,” he says. “We can start goin’ over stuff, figure out when you wanna close. All that. Call me anytime. Sound good?”

You just nod. The fatigue is starting to hit and Joel must be able to tell because he just smiles at you.

“Goodnight, boss lady,” he says. “Put the whiskey on my tab.”

Joel grabs his jacket and unlocks the door, sliding into the cool night with a wave.

“You don’t have a tab, asshole,” you mutter, but you’re smiling a little.

It feels like pieces are falling into place.

You know you could get the bar fixed up on your own. But with Joel’s help, it’ll get done faster and you might even have some money left over at the end of it.

It’s a lot all at once. But for some reason, it feels different this time. It’s not another job about to fall through, not another relationship going south because you got spooked. It’s not you getting bored and cutting your losses.

You want this. You want it to work. Usually, you’d have left by now, before you got too attached, but it’s too late so you’re going to make it work.

This thing with Joel, though – you’re going to have to be careful. If you’re not, it’ll run away from you and – well. You don’t want to lose control of it.

You look around the bar and sigh. Unwiped tables, a booth that no one should sit in, floors to clean. A few hours of work before bed.

You know you’re going to spend them trying not to think about the man who just left.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction

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billybob598 · 9 months

Text

Wanna Know Something? (Mary Earps x Reader)

Yoooooo, i posteddddd. I know, I haven't written anything in so long, my bad lol. Hopefully this makes up for it. Remember, any feedback good or bad is welcomed. Enjoy reading!

Word Count: 1.6k (wtfff idk how i did that ngl)

“Hey, good luck today,” you hear somebody whisper. Turning to look at the speaker you see Mary reaching out her fist towards you. You smile and bring her into a hug.

“Good luck querida,” (darling) you mumble into her ear. Mary places a soft and discreet onto your neck, your legs almost give out at the action. As you pull away you reach out to Leah who was ahead of both of you. She turns and gives a quick hug to you, her Arsenal teammate.

“Vamos Y/N,” Rafaelle says over her shoulder as the officials start to move forward. You quickly get back to your line and try to focus on the game ahead.

Mary had been your girlfriend for almost a year now. You were the starting goalkeeper for Arsenal and Brazil. Sometimes, you couldn’t believe that Mary loved you, she was so amazing, so funny, so kind, one of the best people you knew for sure. Now, you were playing against each other in the Finalissima. This was a big match. Brazil was hungry to prove that they could compete against top European teams and this was a perfect opportunity. When the national anthems start to play you feel a sense of pride grow inside of your chest. Here you were, in front of a packed Wembley Stadium, playing against your girlfriend for a trophy. It doesn’t get much better than that.

As you near the goal you’ll be protecting you do your pre-game traditions. Touch the left post first, then the right, then jump and touch the crossbar. After, you sprint to the edge of the 18-yard box, kneel, and say a quick prayer. Done. You mentally lock in for what you know will be a tough match.

At halftime, you’re frustrated. England had been controlling most of the ball, they had also gotten a few shots on target. You could do nothing more when Toone finished off a fantastic build-up by England in the twenty-third minute. All throughout Pia’s halftime talk you are planning a speech to the team. Just before you guys head back out, you stand in the middle of the locker room and start to speak,

“Listen, I know everyone out there is rooting against us, so let’s use that to our advantage. Let it fuel us, make us hungry to beat them. They came to see an England win, not a Brazil one. Let’s show them why we are Copa America champions!” This gets everybody fired up. You can sense the shift in the energy of the team, everyone is excited and motivated to prove themselves. The second half is a different story than the first. While England still controls most of the ball, your Brazilian team was creating more chances, being quicker on the counterattack, and finally starting to test Mary. As the game heads into stoppage time, you can feel your heart start to sink. You feel yourself start to lose hope. Then, out of nowhere, Mary bobbles the ball and Andressa jumps all over it, putting it in the back of the net. You scream, jumping up and down with excitement. Soon after that full-time is called. Taking a deep breath, you calm your nerves before the penalty shoot-out. Your goalkeeper coach reminds you of all of England’s penalty takers habits.

After giving your teammates fist bumps and high fives, you make your way towards Mary and the ref who are already waiting for you. The ref runs through all the penalty rules for you guys. When she finishes speaking and leaves the two of you alone, you turn to Mary and with a smirk reach your fist to her. She grins at you and moves to fist bump you, only for you to dodge it at the last second. She shoves you with a playful smile tugging at her lips. You laugh, before starting the walk to the goal.

England has the first penalty. You jump up and down on your goalline, doing jumping jacks trying to distract Stanway. As she takes her first step, you analyze her, deciding to dive to your right. It turns out to be the right decision, but you can’t quite get enough to push it out of the net. You groan as the ball ends up behind you. When Mary gets a hand on Adriana’s shot you hold your breath, only to release it as it rolls into the back of the net. When Ella Toone lines up to take the penalty you know where she is going. You dive to your left, reaching your hand out to block the ball. It bounces off your hand, and for a second you can’t believe it, you saved it. The ecstasy is short-lived however, as you watch the ball roll back towards the penalty spot your head smashes into something quite hard. The post. You black out immediately. Most of the fans groan at the missed penalty. Toone turns away and starts to make her way back to her team. Mary’s the first one to realize something is wrong when you don’t get back up right away. She runs over to you, turning you over to see your eyes closed and a massive gash on the side of your head. Panic overwhelms her body, she grabs a hold of your face trying to get you to wake up. Your Brazilian teammates rush over, all screaming for medics. Rafaelle reaches you and checks for a pulse. Everyone breathes a sigh of relief when she finds one. Some of your fellow Brazilians wince at the amount of blood coming out of your head.

“Come on baby, please wake up,” Mary begs to your limp body, “wake up for me please.”

The medics finally reach you, they wrap something around your head to try and stop the bleeding. Geyse takes your girlfriend’s arm and slowly moves her away from the situation. Mary feels tears start to sting her eyes as she watches the EMTs load you onto a stretcher and take you straight to an ambulance. Wembley breaks out in thunderous applause as you get taken away from the field. The backup goalie jogs onto the field while slipping on her gloves. Mary is conflicted, on one hand, she wants to go to the hospital with you and make sure you’re okay. On the other hand, she knows she can’t just bail and that she has to finish the rest of the shoot-out. She decides to stay on the field with the knowledge that she’s going to dedicate the last few penalties to you.

Mary saves two of the last three and lets out a warrior yell when Kelly sinks her last penalty. She’s so happy and proud that she almost forgets about your condition. Almost. When she sees Rafaelle talking to Leah with a solemn look on her face she rushes over eager to see if your best friend had heard anything about you.

“So?” Mary looks at her expectantly.

“She’s still out, but she’s stable. So far everything is okay.” Mary breathes a sigh of relief at the news.

“I’m gonna head there now,” the English goalkeeper decides, moving towards the locker rooms. Leah grabs her arm.

“We have to do the trophy lift,” her captain tells her.

“Leah, come on, can’t I just go see her?” Mary asks.

“You can go right after, but you should be there for the trophy lift, at least.” Mary nods, sighing. During the celebrations, Mary is just going through the motions. She tries to hurry up the process so she can go see you. Finally, Leah gives her the go-ahead and she rushes to the hospital. When she reaches the hospital reception she’s panting heavily,

“I’m here for Y/N Y/L/N,” she says in between heavy breaths. The receptionist nods and shows her to your room. Mary slowly enters, confused when she hears the TV on. Fully opening the door, she’s met with you grinning at her with your arms spread wide.

“Congratulations! Finalissima winners, that’s pretty cool!” You say brightly. You cock your head to one side when your girlfriend doesn’t respond instead just staring at you. “You okay?” She doesn’t answer, opting to hug you. The air gets knocked out of you, but you hug back.

“Oh my God, Y/N. Y-You were bleeding and w-weren’t moving or an-anything,” she chokes out, tears streaming down her face. You kiss the top of her head gently.

“Don’t worry querida. I’m right here, see?” You gently whisper to her, tilting her head up so that her eyes meet yours. “I’m okay.”

“You’re okay,” she nods looking like she’s trying to convince herself. You nod and wipe the tears off of her cheeks delicately. You scoot over and pat the space beside you. She hesitates for a second before giving in and getting into the hospital bed with you. You guys cuddle as you watch the Lionesses celebrations on the TV. She can tell you’re starting to doze off so she whispers into your ear,

“We would’ve won even if you were in the net.” You smirk slightly.

“In your dreams Earps. We all know I would have saved at least one of those.” She rolls her eyes at your antics and kisses the top of your head,

“Just go to sleep, love.”

“Wanna know something?” Mary gives you a questioning look, prompting you to continue. “Metal posts are really, really hard. I would not recommend ramming your head into them. You might not feel great for a bit after.”

#mary earps #mary earps x reader #woso x reader #engwnt x reader #woso imagine

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genericpuff · 29 days

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Seeing how there only 10 episodes left do you think Rachel will rush the ending?

The way I see she needs to somehow resign Apollo reign, reawaken the God's, have Persophone defeat Kronos, have Persophone create Elysian, stop the entered winner/killing of nymphs and humans, hell we don't even know what is Leto end goal and what is her whole role in this series other than manipulating Apollo to be king. We don't even know what exactly she did with Zeus (but knowing Rachel she made Leto the other woman despite the fact she was another respectable goddess)

Imo I think Rachel is officially done done with her series and know her viewers are fed up with her constant milking of the series. You can even see it in some of her work where you know she just gave up (unless it's her self insert scenes)

On a side note another thing I should point out is the anti climax of Leuce and Thetis. Besides the fact she made Leuce another other woman the way she made Leuce expression during Persophone home Invasion made it look like she wasn't going to back down. Only for her to make be forgotten 3/4 of the final arc and is never mention again. Persophone didnt even ask Hades how does he even know Leuce. So unless Rachel has plans for her again that was the last time we saw her making that whole plot unless.

While Thetis plot.........

I'll be honest she just got a slap on a wrist and Rachel just insert Achilles as a way to bait her audience/trying to make a cultural reference. Tbh I thought Thetis would have a bigger story like fast-forward she believes she gotten everything she wanted and is now Queen only for the Trojan war occur and she only lost her status bur her son. Thus making the scene a poetic justic/tragedy.

I'll finish this off since I don't want to run my mouth about this series so here's my 2 cent. Rachel is putting to many Greek mythologies in her series that a) she has forgotten about characters b) everyone is now expecting her to have this series be all wrapped up in a nice bow when it actually be worse c) and because she has so many subplots they are left unresolved or unsatisfied

Oh, Persephone created Elysium already. It was literally just this LMAO

Okay in all honesty I don't know if that was actually meant to be Elysium, but I remember seeing people comment on the S2 finale when she was bee-burping at Kronos that she was creating Elysium at the same time as fighting Kronos and I just... yeah okay? But they literally haven't even name-dropped it since the trial. This is what I mean when I criticize Rachel's writing for depending WAY too much on reader headcanon, because not only will she just roll with whatever her fans theorize, she'll do so without actually writing it into the comic so unless you're in the FB groups and Discord, you're probably not gonna pick up on every little decision Rachel made because she's making them with half a thought and a quarter of the effort needed to express it. It means people can say whatever and she'll just take credit for it like "yeah! that was Elysium! totally! you get it! okay moving on-"

As for the Leuce thing, Hades deadass met Leuce when Zeus offered her up as a bride, which Zeus explained to Persephone during the S2 finale arc-

-but again it suffers from a lot of the same issues of Rachel not expanding on her ideas and just resolving them with some other random plot convenience. Why would Leuce be so obsessed with getting with Hades that she'd make up fake text messages? Rachel just really didn't want Hades to be interacting with other women in the 10 years that Persephone was gone, so she had to make Leuce delusional for it to work ?? Why would she go so far as to tell Hades about the text messages if they weren't real the whole time?

-but then of course before Hades can respond to this, Persephone interrupts, meaning the plotline can be put on the backburner until Rachel comes up with a solution to it-

-and then we got to see Persephone 'resolve' the issue by harassing Leuce in her home, and it was only until after THEN that Rachel finally went "no it's fine that Persephone vandalized her home, the text messages weren't real!!! see??? Leuce is just a delusional nimwit! She deserves it!"

And yeah the Thetis and Achilles thing is yet another 'plotline' that Rachel only introduced to try and legitimize her comic as a Greek myth retelling. Just about every myth she tries to portray is done vaguely and without any thought for the world they're inhabiting, it's all just lip service.

At the end of the day, a lot of the writing in LO is 1.) trying to make up for the lack of plot development in the first two seasons (hence why we're now getting sudden lore dumping about how the seasons work) and 2.) trying to make up for its lack of Greek myth set pieces because Rachel has now been openly called out for being arrogant in her 'knowledge' of Greek myth and it has people analyzing just how little Greek there is in this Greek myth "retelling". It's especially apparent in the second season when the whole thing is just self-insert fantasies about Hades and Persephone living together until the plot finally has to get moving again. Every now and then Rachel remembers that this is supposed to be a retelling, so she'll throw in some random Greek myth reference like the Colchian dragon or Aphrodite marrying Hephaestus or Thetis and Achilles.

It's very evident that Rachel never learned how to write a longform story or planned to make LO as long as it is and the story has suffered all the more for it. And it sucks because that's not the story I got onboard with back in 2019-2020, but that's where we are. Ironically, as much as I criticize LO for not having enough Greek myth influence in it, I do think the story would have been far better off if it just stayed as a cheesy office romance fluff fic. It's clearly what Rachel wanted to write but either she or WT (or both) got ahead of themselves and took on more than what LO - and Rachel - were equipped to follow through on.

#ask me anything #ama #anon ama #anon ask me anything #lore olympus critical #lo critical #anti lore olympus

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willowser · 2 years

Text

i am so terribly in the mood to write angst 🥺 like. like maybe. ex-husband bakugou 🥺

not so fresh out of your divorce, but — having a little boy — life with him is so intricately tangled. far too deeply rooted to ever be out of each other's hair. more often than not, he brings your son to his parent's house if he's called in to work, but — sometimes it's after midnight and he doesn't want to have another argument with his mom about how he's working too much. be reminded that this is how he lost you in the first place. mitsuki's disappointment has always stung because she reacts so typically in fury, and this distaste is always whispered and low, serious enough that her reprimands sink to the pit of his stomach.

and sometimes — he just wants to check on you. your house. if there's anything he can bring you or that you need or that he can fix, if you want. sometimes he just wants to hear your voice, and watch the way your lips sound out his name.

"aw," you pout playfully in the doorway despite the puffiness to your eyes, at having been woken up. "my sleepy baby."

your son is knocked out on his dad's shoulder, drooling through the material of his shirt, and you step up to take him but — katsuki doesn't let go. not yet. it leaves you still within close range, rubbing a small hand over the kid's back. there's a residual heat lingering around your body from the blankets you've no doubt been swaddled in, and he imagines you bundled up with his little boy. how close and sweet the two of you will be, after he's gone.

"is that—" you gasp, making a face that has his lips twitching with the urge to smile; instead his frown deepens. "is that a thumb in his mouth?"

a sting starts deep within the sockets of his eyes, and he rolls them, feigning nonchalnce. "he's already pissed 'cause he's congested, so whatever."

it earns him a pleased hum; victorious, in letting the kid indulge his shitty habits. "picking your battles, i see."

and the two of you are left in the shadow of something, cold, despite the stove light deep in the background of your place. finally, your son is passed off, and you cradle him even though he's getting too big to be held like that, but katsuki doesn't say anything. there's a part of him that wants this image to stick for a little while longer. there's a part of him that wants this to hurt.

"do you think you'll be back before the morning?"

"uh," he swallows, knuckling at one of his eyes. "don't know. this shit with half 'n half is—" probably gonna keep him up until the early afternoon, but you'll only worry if he tells you, and you've done that enough.

"okay," you shrug, swaying slowly back and forth as you nestle your cheek in your son's wild blonde hair. "that's fine. i can drop him off with your dad on the way to work, yeah?" all you get is a grunt of affirmation; doesn't seem like he'll avoid the argument with the old hag afterall. "hey, while i have you, i was gonna say—do you wanna come in, or something?"

fuck, if he doesn't want to. how easily he could sink into your couch and your voice, relaxed for the first time in — he doesn't know how long. he is officially A Dad, ready to fall asleep the minute he sits with his head back for even a minute. you'll offer him tea that he won't take, because it'll keep you in the kitchen too long, out of sight.

the soft, safe image of his little family under one roof again makes his stomach churn, and he has to rip himself out of the daydream lest he fall prey to it; he's here for a reason, afterall.

"i gotta—"

"oh, duh," you swing your sleeping little boy gently for emphasis, smile dim in the doorway. "i just wanted to say, if you're gonna be busy, i can plan the birthday party with your mom," a long kiss is pressed to your son's forehead and, minute as it is, katsuki doesn't miss the slight slump of your shoulders. "no big deal."

"no," he says it quick and fails to keep his voice even; when you look up at him, eyebrows raised, katsuki has to take a step back and breathe through his nose. "no, i—you don't hafta' —i just need to send you my schedule, and then we can...figure it out."

"you already have," voice soft, you press the words again into your son. despite them you smile gently, tender. raw. "and i don't remember tonight being on the roster."

so easily could you be hostile. hateful and angry and justified and it would be preferable to this bended knee you've taken; accepting of the life dynamight will always have, even if you're not able to stomach it. if only you could scream and smack him and chastise, then maybe it would be easier to leave.

but instead you just flicker, a light in the dark he'll never reach.

"sorry," is all he can say, teeth grit. the word depresses into his tongue and the weight of it makes him want to gag; he means it now — and every other moment he's failed you in.

you don't press the issue, because you're too kind. "our little baby," another pout works it's way to your lips and katsuki's chest collapses, heart thundering in the cavity he's had to make a home in. alone. "the big 5-0."

he snorts to clear the frog in his throat. "he's gonna be 5, not 50."

"oh," you blink at him owlishly, and then burst into a small fit of laughter that he can't help but to ease at. to yearn for. "i'm half-asleep, you can't hold that against me."

there's a reason he's here; now he's keeping you up and his time has run out, like it always has and always will. the silence that settles between you eats away at him until he is hollow enough to slip away.

you linger in the doorway, watching dutifully as he opens his car door and — katsuki takes one last look at you, another image he wants to last. another image he wants to hurt. sometime in the next 24 hours, when he manages to leave dynamight behind and crawl into his empty bed sheets, this is all he'll think about while chasing after a sleep that isn't so friendly when he's by himself.

hopefully in his dreams, at least, you'll be welcoming him home, instead of bidding him a quiet goodbye yet again.

#BYE CRYING #i want PAIN #akfhejanka #ex husband bakugou i would simply. not be able to handle it.#bakugou drabble #edit to say: i wonder if it bothers him that his parents are still married #lile despite the witch he thinks his mother is — they were able to figure it out #so why couldn't the two of you? 🥺#cw children #✿ willow writes #✿ thoughts: bakugou #✿ theme: dad bakugou #✿ theme: ex husband bakugou

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jadedrrose · 8 months

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(congrats on 1k !!! 🎊🎊)

wanna request a sfw fluffy oneshot for law, one that’s just like taking care of him (he needs a break fr!!) i don’t have anything specific in mind so i’ll leave it up to you 🤭

Just Relax For Once

thank you!!!! This is officially my first completed request for the 1k event, omg 😭 I hope you enjoy it!!!! Edit: I ALMOST FORGOT TO GIVE THIS A TITLE OMG

Warnings: g/n reader, fluff, not proof-read

You’ve honestly lost track of how many times this has gone on this week.

At least five. And that was only this week alone. Every evening, Law would claim he’d have too much work to do and would come to bed later. Except later, in his mind, was either the incredibly early hours of the morning, or never. And this week, it had almost always been never.

Today was the third day in a row where you’d once again woken up to your bed half empty. Law’s side would remain untouched, sheets cold and pillow still fluffed up as though nobody’s head had lay on it.

You’d go about your normal morning routine, not taking too much time. Then without fail, you’d walk over to Law’s little office room aboard the Polar Tang, gently open the door, and discover him sleeping at his desk, in the most uncomfortable position you’d ever seen.

His back would always be hunched over, right arm folded underneath his head which was halfway smushed into the desk. Law’s left arm would hang loosely by his side, lightly swaying as his chest rose and fell with every breath he took. Honestly, the sight was endearing, almost cute, but it always upset you to see he’d overworked himself yet again.

Walking to his side quietly, you gently placed a hand onto your husband’s shoulder, slowly rubbing your palm against the skin to gradually wake him.

“Law,” you whispered, giving him an expectant look as you waited for him to awaken.

He grumbled something incoherent, turning his head in the opposite direction of where you stood beside him.

“Law,” you tried again, gently shaking him this time. “Wake up. You fell asleep at your desk again.”

Law groaned this time, slowly raising his head up before rubbing his face with his left hand. “What time is it?” He asked you, voice hoarse and rough.

“Eleven.”

“Shouldn’t you be in bed, then?” He further questioned, slowly blinking as he tried waking himself up more.

“Eleven in the morning, Law,” you clarified with the rolling of your eyes. “You’ve been in here since… what, ten last night?”

“Ah, shit,” he cursed, voice clearing as he seemed fully conscious now. “M’sorry, y/n.”

“No, Law,” you shook your head. “Don’t apologize, okay? You’re stressed, baby.”

“No I’m not,” he denied, pouting his lips as soon as he was done speaking.

You giggled, “mhm. Still, I want you to relax for once.”

“I’m clearly relaxed right now,” Law argued, gesturing to how he was half-laying at his desk.

“No, if anything you’re straining your back too much and ruining your posture. Come on, Law. You’re the doctor here. You should know this better than anyone,” you lectured, placing your hands on your hips and raising an eyebrow at your lover.

“As a doctor, it’s my job to take care of others,” he replied, finally standing up and stretching.

Law raised his arms above his head, hands forming into fists as his limbs seemingly trembled, a yawn escaping his lips as he stretched. The sight was a pleasing one to you, and if it hadn’t been for your concerned behavior over your husband, you would’ve been shamelessly admiring the view before you.

“So you’ll take care of others but not yourself?” You questioned, in reference to his comment before you’d nearly become distracted.

“Who says I have to?”

Sighing, you crossed your arms and gave the raven-haired man a deadpanned look, “you’re so childish, Law.”

“Could be worse,” he hummed, giving you a lazy smirk. “You could’ve married that idiot Euastass. Or even Mugiwara-ya.”

Amused, you scoffed with a smile playing on your lips. “Luffy is hardly an adult, even if he technically is one. Kidd… creeps me out, so…”

“So you picked the right one?” Law tried finishing your sentence, a smile forming on his face.

“Sure,” you giggled. “Because at least you shower.”

Law let out a loud, genuine laugh at your statement. His laughter caused you to go from quiet giggles to joining in on the more audible amusement.

“Speaking of which, maybe you should take a bath?”

“Why? We never do that, waste’s too much time-“

“Because I want you to relax,” you explained, already shoving Law out of his office and back toward your bedroom.

He let out an annoyed groan, but really, you could tell Law was looking forward to the princess treatment, at the way he simply let you drag him into the bathroom.

—

Once he was in the bath, you sat up on the ledge behind him, working shampoo into his messy black hair. Law leaned into your touch, drumming his tattooed fingers against the edge of the tub as you massaged his scalp.

Gently, you used your nails to scratch at his hair, and you could’ve sworn your husband was a cat, at the way he leaned further into you and practically purred with satisfaction.

After Law’s hair was clean, you massaged his back and shoulders with some body soap in your hands. The black tattoos on his tanned body seemingly disappeared underneath the foamy substance, the room filling with a sweet scent as you worked away.

Once the bath was done, you finally got Law into bed, making sure he had plenty of pillows and would be nice and warm underneath the blankets.

“I’m not leaving until I know you’re asleep,” you said, with a teasing tone. “Then I’ll go ahead and make you some breakfa-“ your eyes flicked to the clock, which read twelve-forty five. “-lunch, rather. ‘Kay?”

“Okay,” Law agreed, playfully raising an eyebrow at you before closing his eyes. And honestly, you were surprised at how quickly he fell asleep. He must’ve been really tired.

Smiling, you hopped off the bed and made your way to the kitchen, figuring you should make something Law would especially enjoy waking up to.

Grilled fish it was, then.

#trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law x you #trafalgar law x y/n #Trafalgar law x g/n reader #law x reader #law x y/n #law x you #law x g/n reader #trafalgar d water law x y/n #trafalgar d water law x reader #trafalgar d water law x you #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #jadedrrose 1000 event

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oneforthemunny · 2 months

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wait rockstar!eddie gets kicked out at some point?

kinda yes.

so long ago (on funsonmunson rip sweet angel) we started talking about how nb and rockstar!eddie would be sober parents. i think we had just established that her parents were not, and neither were his, and that's kinda how dark shadows was born.

someone brought the idea that eddie had a slip. he started doing coke or some sort of upper to keep him awake after the twins were born. he was so tired and he just needed some help, so instead of asking someone else, he takes an upper (i think it was coke?? correct me if i'm wrong).

nb finds it in his wallet after she's a little suspicious about how different he's been acting. just over the top and exaggerated and a little crazed- like how he'd act pre-kids. she finds it.

she doesn't even confront him to his face. when he's sleeping or busy or crashes or whatever, she packs up the girls and goes to farrah's. he's freaking out when he wakes bc he can't find her, but finds her wedding rings and the coke by her bedside and just knows. knows he's fucked up worse than he ever has in his entire life.

he loses his shit, and when i say loses it, like full emotional, mental breakdown. gareth has to talk him down, tells him (tho he's not supposed to) where you're at. naturally, eddie is erratic, calls farrah's phone a million times until you answer.

nb tells him something along the lines of "i'm not doing this to my girls. i thought you agreed but clearly you don't." threatens to make it so he'll never see any of them again, and unfortunately he knows she can make that happen (nb perks).

this is the one and only time eddie munson checks himself into rehab willingly- eagerly even. he does the work, all of it, and truthfully, he's so fucking terrified that once he gets sober, he's sick when he thinks about coke. there was no coddling, no chances like before, it was so final when she took his kids, when she left, that it scared the absolute shit out of him.

ofc they get back together, but it takes a long time really. they're separated for a while because he's ruined the trust there, and he knows that.

that's why there was such an age gap between zahra and the other girls. that's also when eddie gets insanely into gardening??? it starts as a love present for nb because she loves flowers, but also because he gets bored and wants to do something productive to keep him from going back to bad habits.

anyways, that's a lost bit of lore. i never made an official official blurb about it bc people were half and half on it but that's what the one ask was. there was no cheating tho, bc he was already so miserable about fucking up, he would have done anything to make it right. not fuck it up further. maybe if they didn't have kids he might have, but he's got kids and he's not gonna do that.

#oneforthemunny #munnytalks #rockstar!eddie munson #dad!rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie munson x nepo baby!reader

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thevoidscreams · 1 month

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Hello👋 I hope spring has started well for you✨🌹 Mating Press March is simply unrealistically delicious😍🤩 Can I ask Sanguinius? Let's say there are wedding traditions on Baal. After the groom drinks his bride's blood and she tastes his, the groom tracks her down within the walls of their new home. And when he finds her, he takes her to their bedroom and lays claim to her body🤭🤭 Something like that)

Day 14

Hella, let's do this. Also, this one isn't verysut focused. I'm sorry. I had to rewrite the whole thing, but I like this version better.

Pairing: Sanguinius x reader

Warnings: consumption of blood, predator/Prey dynamics, and getting railed without much prep.

I hissed as the needle pulled away from my arm, and a bandage was pressed into place.

Sanguinius was unflinching as they drew his blood for the ceremony, looking as pleased as anything. I understood his excitement. Once this final part of the tradition was complete, we'd be bonded in matrimony not only legally but spiritually as well

I watched with a soft smile as they emptied the syringes into shotglass sized cups.

Each was passed to each respective partner. Mine to him and his to me. The officiant spoke words over us both, just as he had earlier, but this felt different, more intimate.

Sanguinius met my gaze, and I felt my stomach do a little flip. I was shaking with excitement. Not so much for the blood, but from what I knew came after.

Sanguinius had told me in advance what all would be included in this.

I looked down at his blood. It was so dark, and the coppery scent that wafted up from the warm glass was rich. I wasn't so thrilled to be drinking the blood. But being paired with my beloved was more than enough to make up for that. He'd wanted to partake in all the traditions of Baal. So it was also important to him and I could do that for my beloved.

When the officiant was done, I took a sip. It was like being dunked in molten copper. The flavor was so strong.

I watched as he savored my blood, almost like it was a fine wine. His wings trembled as he finished his glass. And he pinned me with his gaze. The officiant and witnesses left the room quickly.

I set the glass of blood, unfinished, on the small table.

I had the distinct feeling something bad would happen if I drank anymore.

Sanguinius didn't seem to notice, or just wasn't bothered.

"I'll give you half an hour to run and find a place to hide. After that, I'll begin the hunt, and once I find you-"

"You'll make me yours truly and completely." You finished and he nodded with a look of anticipation.

"Your time has begun little dove." He grinned and make a shooing motion with his hand. "Go. Fly."

I did. My feet carrying me swiftly and surely. My heart raced, but I didn't feel winded. I felt like I could run every hall in this massive building and not tire.

I'd never felt like that before. It was exhilarating, but it also frightened me. I stopped after ten minutes, looking around and stepping into a room before the turn at the end of the hall.

The room was dark, and obviously not used often.

There were tables and chairs, set and ready to be used if necessary. But a thin layer of dust coated every surface.

At the far end, there was a buffet table with a thick cloth draped over it.

I went to it, my heart still racing and sliding under. There was less dust, and breathing was easier, but the air in the room smelled stale.

I pressed my head to the wall and was shocked to hear voices. Serfs no doubt, gossiping and joking.

I listened before realizing they weren't on the other side, they were a whole room over. In one of the kitchens.

Just what the hell had happened to me after I drank that blood? Was I becoming more like him? I pondered on it as I sat in the dark. I shouldn't have been able to see all that well, but I found that I could. Yet another oddity.

Sanguinius knew what direction you'd gone, and he could tell with relative ease the directions after that for a short time. Now, it could be a matter of using his imhumanly accute senses to track you.

He watched the hands on the wall clock tick by ever so slowly and was on his feet as soon as thirty minutes was up. The game was officially on.

I sat listening to the serfs talk about whatever drama was going on.

The sound of heavy feet didn't register at first.

There had been astartes walking up and down the hall every few minutes.

I almost gasped when the door suddenly swung open. The air was thick with tension and my body went still as the grave.

Under the heavy cloth, it would have been hard to hear if not for the weird effects of the blood, but there was a soft, snorting sort of sound.

He was sniffing me out. Like some kind of hunting hound. It felt more like the sort of thing his brother would have done.

I knew Sanguinius wouldn't hurt me. But the need to bolt for the door was bone deep. The need to flee from my pursuer.

His steps grew closer still. The fabric of concealing me rustled as his wing brushed it.

I could hear him turning over the cloth covering the table across from the one I was under.

"Dove." He cooed sweetly, I know you're in here. "Why don't you come out so we can continue the ceremony together?"

I felt a surge of adrenaline. With his feather poking under the cloth and the rustling of another clothe, I could gauge where he was facing.

The risk had proven worth it. As I crawled from under the table and under another, he'd already checked just in time.

Sanguinius's hearts were pounding. He could smell her, but he was having a hard time hearing over the racing beats in his chest. Your blood had been exquisite, and he was drooling at the thought of tasting other parts of you.

The underside of the buffet table smelled strongly of you. Which meant you had to be close by.

He turned this way and that eyes looking for any minute disturbance.

The rustling of fabric is what drew his attention. His head snapping in the direction of the door.

The corner of your dress vanished behind the door, and his hearts leapt in his chest. He knocked tables out of his way as he began the pursuit.

I bolted, the first crash sending me down the hall as fast as my feet could carry me.

I heard him calling for me, the unmistakable excitement in his voice she he thundered after me.

I ducked into a serf hall. It was thin, and the ceiling was low. I didn't stop, shouting for people to move as I tried to lose him, the game wasn't over till I said it was dammit.

Sanguinius was a man of many talents, but he didn't have his brother Magnus's skill of shape-shifting. The angel growled as his fingers just barely missed your dress fabric.

He rushed down the hall, taking turns on instinct. He knew where it let out, and he knew he could head you off.

He came to a stop at the door to the serfs quarters, opening it and grabbing the first serf he saw by one shoulder.

"Is she here?" He asked.

Of course he didn't have to tell the poor startled woman who.

"Your bride, my lord? No, but I did see her."

"Where?"

"Down the shute, my lord."

"What?"

"Was the strangest thing. She went down the shute we use for the dirty laundry."

He patted her on the shoulder. "Thank you." He took off for the stairwell leading down to the laundry facilities.

I pulled up the comfort pair of shorts and tossed the dress by the corner of one massive industrial washer. That ought to throw him off a bit. The thing probably smelled like me, given that I'd been in it all day, and I was sure that he'd figured out my where abouts by now. Or was about to.

Landing in the laundry hadn't been as fun as I assumed it would be. But there'd been a fresh change of clothes and I wasn't giving up yet.

I was headed for a service door but heard the telltale approach of my husband. The door was across the huge room, and there just wasn't time.

Instead, I made due with the cover of a rolling basket. I made it by the skin of my teeth as he practically flew down the steps.

"Dove? Come out for me, please? I just want to give you the love you deserve." His pleading sounded so sincere I almost did. But I steeled myself, he'd told me how important this tradition was and how he wanted me to take it seriously...and I was having a blast.

I'd never felt so alive before, the chasing the escaping.

Maybe he'd consider this as some foreplay in the future. I watch him from the corner of the basket.

Watching him sniff around until he spotted the dress's fabric. He stalked it more like a cat then a bird.

I crouched and snuck around the basket. Listening as he cooed sweet nothings. The decoy was working. I made it to the bottom of the steps. The old laundry door was heavy, and I knew that it would squeal badly.

Each step up had me holding my breath as I carefully placed each foot. I was only a few steps from the tip when he sprang, tugging the empty dress from behind the washer.

"Dove?" He called concerned. I couldn't help it, I giggled as I shot up the last few steps.

Oh, so that's how it was. Sanguinius laughed and dropped the dress, running up the steps 5aking them multiples at a time.

"Dove!" He shouted after you. Knowing he had to have you now.

The hall was too wide for me to find shelter anywhere, and the hall was long as well. I may not have been all that tired, but I knew I wouldn't make it. Sanguinius's shadow fell over me. His hands reaching and I got a first-hand understanding of what the prey of hawks felt like.

He forced me to the floor, his body coveringine as I writhed and struggled to get away. The game had been fun while it lasted.

"You gave me a good run, my dove.. but I have you now."

I laughed and was lifted from the floor.

Sanguinius carried me close to him as he made his way towards our room.

"That was fun." I kissed his cheek.

He smiled and chirped. "There is still fun to be had."

He pushed his way into our chamber and locked the doors.

"I'm glad you took your dress off, it makes this easier to do." My husband purred.

"Makes what easier?" I chuckled.

He ripped the clothes from my body and dropped me on the bed.

I squealed as I fell, and Sanguinius did much the same to his own clothes in his eagerness to get down to it.

"I've been craving you all day. Since dawn this morning, I've been dreaming of having you."

He grabbed my hips and tugged me closer to him, his face between my legs as he finally got a taste of what I had to offer.

It was like molten lava in my stomach. He lapped at my pussy, rubbing my clit with the tip if his tongue before he plunged the slick muscle into my tight walls.

"Sanguinius!" I gasped, grabbing a handful of his hair and squishing his face between my thighs.

"Dove." He moaned back fucking me with his tongue, lapping up everything I had to offer him.

The excitement of the day and the hunting already had me soaked, and now the love of my life was getting to enjoy me. What could be better?

He pulled his face away, and I looked down at him, face warm with what I was sure was a blush.

Sanguinius's cock was rock hard, he'd never been more excited to do this.

You looked perfect under him, ready and willing to take his cock. He pushed the tip into you. Rubbing his thighs lovingly as you gasped and grabbed his arms.

"I will be gentle."

I nodded, breathing through the pain. It felt like I was being split in two as he pushed in inch by inch.

Once he couldn't push in anymore, he stopped, and I laid under him panting.

The seconds felt like hours. But before long enough, the pain had dulled.

"Please, go slow." I panted.

"I will Dove, I will." He leaned down and kissed the top of my head.

He began slow, pulling out an inch or two, then slowly sinking back in.

It burned, but I breathed through it again. And as before, the burning ebbed and pleasure began to bloom under it. Slowly usurping it.

At some point, the pleasure became all consuming, and I moaned under him. Fuck it was even better than I thought it would be.

"I love you, Sanguinius." I mumbled into his chest.

"I love you too, my dove." He hugged me close, and I wrapped my arms around his neck as he drove us both towards the edge.

I wouldn't last much longer, but I was okay with that. Tonight had been the most memorable one of my life.

Sanguinius was panting, rutting into me faster now as he got closer as well. We came together, both crying out for the world to hear. We held each other, husband and wife, joined fully in union now.

"That was amazing. Can we do that again?"

"Are you good for another round right now?" Sanguinius asked, smiling warmly.

"Yeah, but also the chasing thing. Can we do that again sometime too?"

Sanguinius laughed. "If course my love."

He kissed you again and again as he slid back in, ready to consummate your marriage many more times.

#warhammer 40k #warhammer #primarch x reader #40k #my writing #primarchs #warhammer 40k x reader #primarch #fanfiction #sanguinius x reader #sanguinius #Mating Press March

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axelsagewrites · 1 year

Text

Lucerys - Dance

Pairing: Lucerys X Green!Daughter

Summary: reader and Luke had been best friends for years before being split up but finally they meet again at the readers birthday ball.

Words: 2914

Requested by anon

Masterlist Here

Being the youngest child of the king was a strange experience. As the youngest you didn’t have to worry about as many marriage proposals or having to go to make official royal visits. The only times you were sent on royal visits had been with either your mother or brother Aemond as your mother did not trust her another son to look after you. You spent more time looking after Aegon than the other way round as you were the one that would sneak him his hang over cures when your mother banned the maesters for helping him as punishment for her sons drinking.

Despite this you were also close with your mother. She was extremely protective which had its ups and downs. On one hand you didn’t need to worry about Lords trying to manipulate you for your hand and on the other you only really had your family to spend time with. However, as you were the youngest, quite a bit younger than your siblings, it still could be lonely at time. Or at least it was after Luke had left court.

When Luke was still at court however you were inseparable. You studied together, trained with your dragons together, were forced to learn how to dance together. It was lucky that you both got on so well because if not the whole ordeal would have been awkward. You didn’t mind spending all your time with him however and soon you may have well been the same person.

The day Rhaynera decided to move her and her children to Dragonstone to marry Daemon Targaryen you cried. You cried the whole day and so many more to come. Luke did his best not to join you in your tears. You clung onto him for dear life as you said your goodbyes. But eventually you were forced to let go.

You didn’t leave your room for days after he left. The worst was no one really noticed as they were used to you being away in some corner with Luke. Aemond only noticed when he realised, he had not been pranked by you and Luke for a week. The only reason you even came out of your room is because he banned the cooks to send food to your room and eventually you realised starvation would not bring Luke back.

Eventually you found a new normal but it was hard at first. Now you were far more studious, rode your dragon more, and even began to wear more princess like dresses as you weren’t having to sneak around with Luke to pull off your next heist. Alicent was so happy by the change that soon you became her favourite. She loved to come to your chambers and do your hair as before you had never allowed her to, claiming she pulled to hard. Now you didn’t see a point of fighting your mother off.

During her visits to try out the latest braid styles in your hair she began to discuss plans for your upcoming birthday. As usual there would be cakes and dancing and lords pretending to take an interest in you. For you it was more of a chore and you would celebrate your birthday properly the day after. Usually this would be done with Lucerys, but this year Heleana would have to do.

“You’re so lucky my dear not to have to organise this yourself,” Alicent said as she tugged your hair back from your face, “Trying to organise the guest list alone is killing me. Who can come and what day and how much time we spend with them outside of the ball itself. It’s all very complicated just to avoid bruising some egos,”

“Do I even know half the people coming?” you asked.

Alicent sighed, “You know of them at the very least. It’s all the usual sort but don’t worry darling you don’t need to talk to anyone for very long. That’s what I’m here for. You just pick a couple lords or their sons, don’t worry I’ll point them out to you, you dance with them then you just sit and look pretty,” Alicent smiled as she admired her handy work. “Don’t you just love it?”

It took all your energy to muster up a smile to try convincing her but she seemed pleased non the less. “We’ll need to set up some more dancing practises,” your mother continued. “Can’t have you stepping on any fragile toes,”

“I normally practise with Luke,” you sighed as you ran your fingers over the braids. You knew exactly the disgusted face he would make if he could see them now.

“Well you can dance with him at the ball but for now-“

“Lucerys will be there?” you span around to face your mother.

“Of course he will,” she said, her face contorted to scold you for interrupting her, “Rhaynera and her whole family will be there. Even that Daemon of hers. I can’t believe she married that lunatic,”

“Why didn’t you tell me he was coming?” you ignored her pettiness not wanting to get involved in her drama.

Alicent just shrugged as she began to pack up her hair styling supplies, “Well of course he was going to be there. I didn’t think you would mind,” but you were too thrilled to care at this point. Lucerys was coming back.

The days leading up to the ball you had been on the lookout for his arrival but your mother kept you so busy you didn’t even find out they had arrived till after dark and your mother insisted you needed your beauty sleep and he could wait. Then despite your tries the next day it felt like everyone was trying to keep you both apart. Every time you would leave your room there would be someone needing something about some dress or food or song that need your opinion despite everyone knowing your mother would be the one really deciding.

Then the day of the ball rolled around and you didn’t think you could be busier. While your mother was off greeting guests you were being primped and polished by handmaidens and servants. Everything had to be perfect. When you were finally ready you looked into the mirror and did not recognise the girl staring back at you. Her hair was filled with intricate interweaving braids. Her skin was slathered with lotions and tinted balms. Her dress showed off a figure even you barely recognised.

A knock came from the door. “Come in,” you called despite feeling all the air leaving your body as your breath quickened.

You glanced at the door to see Aegon walking in, “Well don’t you look like mothers’ little pet,”

“Shut up Aegon,” You glared as you examined yourself in the mirror, running your hands over the braids then the dress then the braids again, “I feel- “

“Stupid? That’s what you get for pleasing her,” Aegon walked over to stand behind you looking at you in the mirror together. He turned to the women in the room, “Leave us. I will escort my sister down in a few minutes,”

He was met with several hesitant looks as the women contemplated who was worse to anger; your brother or mother. “My prince, the queen specifically requested-“ one lady started but was soon cut off.

“I am sure I can be trusted to walk her down some stairs. I’ve not drank that much have I?” he chuckled as he placed his hands on your shoulders.

“I’ll be down in a few minutes. I promise,” you assured your ladies and finally they left the room.

When the door closed Aegon turned you around, “You look like mother,”

“Fix it,”

“Say no more,” Aegon said as he began to pull pins out your hair. Soon he was pulling and tugging harder than mother but it was all worth it when your hair began to resemble hair rather than a helmet. He still kept some of the braids in but now it was at least a curly half updo. “I’m not about to start tearing your dress so you’ll have to deal with that but dab some of that gunk off and lets go before mother finds out and fixes you.”

“Thank you,” you sigh as you dab off the excessive lotions, so your skin did not look so greasy. “I just wanted- “

“To look good for your boy toy,” He smirked as you began to splutter out incoherent sentences, “It’s fine. I’m hardly one to judge. Just don’t tell Aemond you fell for the eye snatcher,”

“It was an accident,” you snap and Aegon just laughed, “Besides he probably doesn’t like me,”

“If he doesn’t then I want to know why he wouldn’t shut up about you all morning so c’mon. Grab your shit and let’s rock this bitch. I wanna make an entrance,”

And that he did. Well kind of. you think the gasps were because it was the first evening all week the prince had walked into a room without stumbling. Aegon led you into the ballroom and presented you to your mother who struggled not to strangle her son in front of everyone. But all you cared about was Lucerys.

He was stood beside his mother and brother who were a mere feet or two away from the king and you tried your best not to stare at him, but you swore you could feel his eyes on you. After your father had greeted you, it was Rhaenyra’s turn.

“You look absolutely darling sweetheart,” your sister said as she took your hands in hers giving them a light squeeze, “I like your hair its very…interesting,” she smiled.

“It’s a new style im trying,” you said with heat rushing to your cheeks before turning to Daemon which honestly did not help your blush. “Uncle,” you greeted and he just nodded and smirked in return. Going down the line you finally got to Jace, “Hello idiot,” you grinned, knowing now it was far too personal to hug him in front of everyone though desperately wanting to.

“Dumbass,” he smiled back as he took your hand to kiss it and you swore you saw him glance at his brother as he did. “We’ve missed having you around,”

“I miss it too. You should visit more often,” you said before quickly moving down again to finally get to Lucerys. “Luke,” you beamed, reaching for his hand but he just bowed his head. “Im so glad your finally back,”

He gave a tight smile and nodded his head, “Happy name day princess. We shouldn’t keep you from your guests. It was lovely to see you,”

Even your sisters face was filled with confusion, but no one had time to question it when your mother rushed you off to great the next family. you looked back over your shoulder to see Jace taking his brother somewhere and Luke didn’t even spare you a glance. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes but you managed to keep them in as you bored yourself with the next guest.

The whole evening was a mix of watery eyes, cake, and dancing. Most of the lords were old enough to be your father but their were a couple age appropriate ones. Although you’d never pursue him Jace was one of them and soon approached you for a dance.

As you took to the floor, Jace leading the way and placing a hand on your waist and one in your hand, you finally could attempt to get some answers, “So do I have to ask why your brother hates me?”

Jace sighed as he spun you to the music before bringing you back in, “He doesn’t hate you he’s just a dumb kid,”

“Don’t call him dumb,” you snapped and Jace laughed, “I might hate him but don’t insult him,”

“You don’t hate him either. You both have the same problem,”

“And what’s that?” you asked, forcing yourself to smile when you felt your mothers gaze.

“Too many feelings and not enough courage. Its partly my fault,” he confessed, “I’ve been winding him up about it since I found out about this ball,”

“Winding him up about what?”

Jace groaned “Yous are just as bad as each other. You both like each other,”

“He clearly does not like me,” you frowned but refused to deny that you liked him anymore.

He glanced into the crowd, and you noticed Lucerys staring at you both, “Really? Then watch this,” Jace said and as the dance began to draw to a close he stepped in closer, his hand falling slightly closer to your hip and his face a mere inch away from you.

Your skin prickled hot at the closeness and you knew this must look incredibly suspicious to anyone else. Before you could pull away from Jace, Lucerys was pulling him back from you. He was glaring daggers at his smirking older brother. The room was growing more silent the longer you three stood. You could see your mother approaching out the corner of your eye. Jace nudged his brother who finally faced you. His skin started to glow pink around his checks and neck, “I think it was my turn to dance next,” he stumbled over his words as his eyes fell down, “If you would like of course,”

Finally a smile found its way to your lips as you stepped back from Jace and faced Lucerys, “I would love to,” you quickly turned and nodded to the musicians who had stopped during this whole ordeal. Soon music began to flood the hall and people soon began to move on.

Jace walked off leaving a still red Lucerys behind. “May I have your hand?” he asked, his eyes still not meeting yours. You simply responded by grabbing one of his hands and resting the other on his shoulder. Soon his other found your waist and a smile on his face as you began to dance the first dance you had ever learned.

You didn’t say a word as you danced but you didn’t need to. As you moved you both laughed and smiled and almost cried as he began to twirl you and spin you and pull you in. You didn’t need to think about your next step because you were both moving as one.

Eventually the music drew to an end and the people clapped as your dancing stopped. Now you stood still again in the middle of the dance floor. “Would it be selfish of me to ask for another?” he said with a bashful smile tugging at his lips.

“It would be selfish if you didn’t,” you said as you took his hand again for another spin.

Later that night as the ball was finally beginning to die down you managed to sneak off with Luke to the a hallway in the servants area that you knew your mothers would never check. You sat on the floor next to each other, resting your head on his shoulder. “Did you have fun tonight?” he asked.

You snorted in return, “Please I don’t think I’ll be able to walk again. I don’t understand why I had to dance with everyone,”

“You’re a princess,” Luke laughed, “Who wouldn’t wanna dance with you?”

“So you only danced with me because of my title?” you faked gasped, holding a hand to your heart, “I could cry,”

“Please,” he scoffed, “Oh please milady marry me so I can be prince of nothing,” he laughed and you joined, “Besides if we married you’d be the one reaching up,”

“Me?” you laughed even harder, “I’m a freaking princess. Your heir to some planks of woof,”

“Rich planks of wood. Think about how many frilly dresses you could buy,” he said as he pulled at the lace details of your admittedly frilly dress.

“My mother made me wear it,”

“It looks good on you,” this time he wasn’t laughing. Instead for once he was looking right at you.

“Thanks,” your voice was almost a whisper as you looked back into his eyes. The eyes that had been in your dreams for months. “I’ve missed you,”

“I missed you more,”

“I doubt it,”

“I didn’t eat for weeks after we left. I could barely bring myself to go on rides or practise. Nothing was the same without you there,” he said, his eyes still never leaving yours.

“Why didn’t you write me?” you’d been wondering for weeks but you were now scared for the answer, “I sent a letters but you stopped replying,”

This time he looked away. His cheeks were red once again as he stared at his shoes, “I didn’t want you to think I was an idiot,”

“Why would I think that?”

“Because as soon as we left, I realised I was in love with you,” Lucerys looked up from his shoes but still wouldn’t meet your gaze, “and every day I debated getting on my dragon and flying back. I almost did it once but Jace found me sitting next to my dragon, I couldn’t do it. I didn’t want to see the look on your face before you rejected me and sent me on my way,”

“Who could say no to that face?” you said and finally he looked at you again. “Ask me Lucerys. I at least deserve to decide my own answer,”

“Would you do me the honour of being mine (Y/N)?”

“Of course, I will,”

A/N: This took me way too long to write. Life has been weird and my Y keytab broke. Who know how much I used the letter Y?

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