#oh man after the stream i had to go sit down in the dark living room | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pretty-little-mind33 · 28 days

Text

Snow On The Beach

dad!James Potter x wife!reader

Summary: When your eleven-year-old son comes home for Christmas break in tears, you and James are instantly worried.

Genre: Fluff, Hurt and Comfort

Warnings: mentions of blood-purity and prejudices, swearing, their son Henry is nicknamed as Harry ;)

happens in the same universe as Santa Baby

Your husband has always been dramatic, but when your oldest comes home from school in his first-year with frustrated tears streaming down his cheeks, James almost loses his shit.

Henry slams the door behind him and discards his shoes in the hallway, "Fuck," He mutters when he hears you call his name from the living room. You, James, and Emmie had been waiting for him to come home from the train-station. Emmie sits impatiently on your lap, making small gurgling noises as you bounce her on your knees. James had cooked (burnt) Henry's favorite dinner and he stands up, frowning when he hears his son curse.

"Harry?"

You stand up too, worried, as you hold Emmie in your arms. You hear Henry's footsteps run up the stairs. James looks puzzled as he looks back at you. You shrug and walk up next to him, handing him Emmie as she clings happily to his arms. "I'll talk to him," you pat James's forearm and walk up the stairs to Henry's room.

Gently, you knock on the door and then open it a little. Your heart shatters when you see Henry laying on his stomach, his arms around his pillow as he muffles his cries.

He's always been sensitive and you're cautious as you sit near him. "Honey? What's wrong? Can you tell me what's happened?"

Henry shakes his head, only turning it to mutter, "Go away, mum. I don't wanna talk."

Your eyebrows scrunch and you reach out to touch him, but hesitate and stand up. "Do ya' wanna talk to dad?" you ask, knowing Henry sometimes wants James instead.

Henry doesn't answer for a moment until he nods. You nod too, closing the door behind you as you make your way downstairs again. James is standing at the end of the stairs, Emmie on his hip, as he looks at you concerned. You reach him and take Emmie from him. "He wants you," you whisper.

James's eyes soften and he kisses your cheek, soothing a hand over your hair and down your cheek. You know it's usually a "man problem", as James calls them, when Henry wants James instead of you. Still, James knows your heart breaks when you can't help your baby boy.

James walks upstairs and disappears into Henry's room. You return to the living room and place Emmie down on her play-mat.

James and Henry don't talk for long as you hear hurried footsteps come down the stairs. "Honey?" you call, confused, and you stand.

He doesn't answer and just grabs his coat, his cheeks flushed a dark crimson. He looks beyond pissed. You turn to Emmie, you don't want to leave her unsupervised and she usually starts to cry when she sees her dad this upset so you know you can't carry her to him either.

"James!" you shout after him.

Henry runs down the stairs, his tears now gone as he follows James outside. "Henry!" you shout once more but neither of them listen to you. You feel helpless as you hear the car start in the driveway. You don't understand. You hold Emmie in your arms and sit on the couch, stomach in knots.

After what seems like an hour, the front door opens and Henry's laughter fills the room. You've put Emmie to sleep so you run to the door, hugging Henry to your chest as you tug a hand through his dark curls. James follows behind him, stopping dead in his tracks when he sees your expression.

"Where were you?" you say, narrowing your eyes at your husband.

"Oh, mum, you should have seen dad! The way he shouted at Liam's dad because of what he said at the station—it was awesome!"

"What did Liam say at the station, baby?" you ask him quickly.

"No, not Liam, his dad. He saw me come off the train and he made some comment about you, mum. About you being weird and how it must have passed on to me. He also called you a Mudblood but I didn't understand what that meant and dad won't— " James stops Henry with a hand on his head and you look up at your husband.

Your heart feels like it's beating hard. Weird. Mudblood. You've heard worse but something about it hearing it come from your son's mouth—knowing someone had said that in front of your son makes you ache.

Liam's dad went to school with you and James and he's always been a jerk, but that doesn’t make it excusable. James kisses Henry's head and sends him upstairs. You look at James, teary eyed as you try to find the right words. James just hugs you to his chest, his hand on the back of your head. "Shh," he whispers, "it's okay," he promises but you shake your head.

"It's not okay," you wipe at your tears, "Richard called me that in front of my son. It's humiliating," You bury my face in my hands. James's expression twists and he looks upset.

He cups your cheeks gently, kissing your nose. "I'm so sorry I left so quickly, my love, but he had to know I won't stand for anyone messing with my loves," he says sternly.

While his anger isn't directed at you by any means, it hangs in the air.

"I- I don't know what to say to Henry," you whisper, voice shaky, as you lean your head on James's chest. James's heart sinks at your tone and he holds you close.

He nuzzles his nose in your hair. "You don't have to say a thing, darlin'."

"Yes, I do," you pull away and look into your husband's eyes, "I'm his mother. I have to explain to him what that word means before he hears it at school again. Which, I'm surprised he hadn't already," you try to sound brave but James sees through you.

He always does.

"Hey, it's okay," he says as he runs a hand up and down your shoulders. He kisses your head gently and continues, "We'll talk to Harry, okay? Can you warm up dinner while I get him?"

Your shoulders relax a little and you nod. With your mind still fuzzy, you walk up to the pot where James had been making pasta and scrunch your nose. It's all burnt and cold by now. You glance at your wand on the counter, but instead, you decide a frozen pizza should do nicely.

After a few minutes, James comes back in with Henry hanging from his arm like he would as a little boy. Seeing you, your son jumps down and runs over. He hugs you and leans on his tip-toes to kiss your cheek. "I love you, mum," he smiles and your heart melts. Henry's smile widens when he smells the pizza in the oven.

"How many sweets did dad bribe you with to say that," you tease, ruffling Henry's hair.

Henry shoots James an unsure look but then smiles up at you, "None," he says confidently and you pretend to believe him. You look at James with a look that says, 'stop bribing our son with candy'. James just smirks and swoops in, resting his hand on Henry's shoulder.

"Harry, your mum and I wanna talk to you about something important, alright," he looks at you and pauses so you can take over.

You nod and crouch down to Henry's eye level. You hold his hands, "Honey, what Liam's dad said wasn't okay, you know that right?" Henry nods, listening intensely. "Mudblood is a very mean word that's used for witches and wizards who are Muggleborn—that come from muggle families—like me."

"I know you do—grandma and grandad don't understand magic," Henry grins.

James chuckles and smoothes his hand in Henry's hair and says, "Yeah, exactly, bud. But, you must never use that word, understand?"

Henry nods seriously and looks up at James. "What am I then? If mum's a Muggleborn and dad's family is—"

"In technical terms, you're a half-blood, honey," you say, standing and kissing his head gently, "It's all nonsense anyways. It really doesn't matter at all because you're a wizard. As long as you can do magic, then that's all that matters."

"Yeah, and you know your mum is way better at magic than I am," James says with a pretend pout, "so really, blood-status is a bunch of bogus," Henry looks at his dad and laughs at his dramatic display of feeling sorry for himself. You roll your eyes and push on James's arm, but you're secretly grateful for him lightening up the mood.

Once the talk is over and Henry is tucked into his bed, his stomach full of pizza, you finally exhale. You sit at your vanity, brushing your hair, and James is changing into his pajamas. He sits on his side of the bed and fiddles with Emmie's muggle baby monitor.

"I can hear you thinking, my lovely," he hums. He stands and makes his way over to you. He wraps his arms around your shoulders and kisses your cheeks. His hands caress up and down your arm as he whispers, "Henry understands. He's smart. You're raising him well."

"We're raising him well," you remind James as you turn to look him in the eye.

James chuckles. "I bribed him with candy. You taught him a valuable lesson."

You scrunch your nose and stand, wrapping your arms around James's torso as you hold him close. Your husband eagerly pulls you into him and inhales the scent of your hair. He leans his cheek on your head and you nuzzle into him.

As much as hearing other wizards and witches talk down on you hurts—like they've done all your life—one solace is that you have the most wonderful husband, who never cared about something as silly as blood-statues, and said wonderful husband gave you the most beautiful children you could have asked for.

"Thank you," you whisper, thanking James for being himself, "I love you." You've never meant anything more.

"I love you more," James finishes and kisses your head.

405 notes · View notes

lululandd · 11 months

Text

whiskey sour;

pairing: simon ‘ghost’ riley x gn!reader

word count: 1577

warnings: meet..cute(?)

note: my heart said angst but my brain said fluff, and i cant write without a brain so… (also on ao3)

summary: the man at the bar never talks. not to women hitting on him, not to the men squaring him up for fights.

You see him every weekend for 3 months straight, sitting at the same place, wearing some rotation of dark hoodies, and sporting some manly drink that seem like they taste as angry as he looks. You notice the only one he talks to is the bartender. And now you, apparently.

You trudged into the bar with a sour face and a sour mood and sat next to him, which you wouldn’t do if there was legitimately any other seat. “I’ll have whatever he’s having.” You pointed at his drink after getting the barkeep’s attention.

It surprised you when the drink came less than a third of the glass it came in. Did the bartender think you’re a pussy and gave you less? Whatever.

So you downed it in one go.

Horrible idea. It burned from your tongue down to your esophagus, and you coughed your lungs out for a solid minute while tears streamed down your face before the fire dissipates.

“You’re supposed to sip.” You heard someone mutter after your body stopped being dramatic over the drink.

Who the fuc—

“You savour it.” He chided. Oh, it’s the quiet man. So the reason no one talked to him is because he’s some kind of obnoxious fuck?

“No ‘you allright’ or ‘you okay’? Straight to the lecture?” You bit back. Fuck, you feel like purposefully bumping into him as you slid off your seat, but he’s built like a tank and you’re not going to test whether you’re wet noodle or wet tissue against him right now. You trudged out of the bar you entered not fifteen minutes ago, and out of anger you promise to never go back.

And by never you mean like two years. You’ve changed jobs, moved closer to work, and now you literally live above said bar you never wanna go back to.

Fuck.

A few weeks went by before seeing him again. Still sitting in the same place, still wearing dark hoodies, still staring daggers at everyone. You changed your mind on drinking that day, not when he’s around.

But the next day you weren’t so lucky. Thinking he wouldn’t be there—since it was a weekday—you plopped right in front of the barkeep and asked him about rumours and gossips of the week.

“Well, that hot widow I kinda fancy got a date yesterday, seemed like it went well.”

You rolled your eyes, “If only you asked her out first.”

He laughed as he slides you a glass of water. “Did that at a previous place, people think they get free drinks when they date a bartender.”

“Wait, you don’t?”

“Nah. I mean, I’ll give them some but lots take it too far and think they can order for a group.”

You scrunched you nose, “I think you just dated shit people, Sam.”

He scoffed, “Shut the fuck up.”

His attention was away from your a second and you decided to take a glance at who ordered. It’s him. You didn’t even notice when he came, to think someone his size would make a lot of noise when they walk. But you were too caught up in conversation, you guess.

When he got back he grabbed two glasses and filled it with a big ball of ice and poured very little of what you think was bourbon into the glasses. You had learnt a little here and there, since you do live above and spend some time with Sam on slow days. To your surprise he handed one to you.

You immediately looked towards the man’s direction and he waved his glass at you.

Oh no.

Taking a deep breath, you grab the glass and place yourself next to him.

“Allright?”

You sighed, “Yeah, don’t worry, I remember this is a sippy drink and not a gulpy drink.”

“Good.”

“Thanks, by the way.” You raised your glass and started sipping. You can’t hide your wince. This would definitely be a good if you were depressed or sad or trying to forget a horrible incident or getting over a breakup, but things are way too nice in your life for you to enjoy it properly. “Would you be offended if I asked the barkeep to make this into a whiskey sour?”

He answered by waving Sam down.

As your drinks slowly diminish, you learn exactly two things about him. His name is Simon and he likes dogs. The man dodged so many questions like Neo and those fucking bullets, and if Sam didn’t somehow made the previously godawful whiskey taste so goddamn tasty you would’ve probably gone upstairs and to bed by now.

But Simon is a good listener, so whenever you feel like having a drink, you sit next to him. It’s definitely a biased opinion, but you think it’s highly unfair that he is as funny as he is attractive. He’s cracking jokes as if his life depended on it, like an ugly kid that had to make his way through school being funny to avoid getting bullied. You also learnt one new thing about him, he has a friend called Soap. Of course you didn’t ask about him, because you know he doesn’t divulge any information, but it’s really funny that the other man calls him quite often lately and then hearing them bantering back and forth for a couple minutes before you can hear the scot on the other end of the phone yell something so scottish you couldn’t understand a word. For a little while you fall into this fun routine, until he stopped coming one day. You think nothing of it at first, like he is a grown man and he could have those seasonal jobs, but weeks turned to months and you miss your drinking buddy.

It was a rainy afternoon, and you opted to wait at the office an extra two hours for the rain to lighten up at least a little. Regret settled deep in your bones for rejecting so many ride home offers, as you wrung what you could of your wet clothes. Some fucker in a pickup truck thought it would be funny to drive at sixty by some puddles and splash everyone at the sidewalk. Everyone huddled under the same awning to try and clean themselves up and share their plight. After feeling dry enough, you started to head back when you heard your name being called by a familiar voice, and then a hand on your shoulder.

“You look like a wet rat.”

Fighting words. Those are fighting words. You did the one thing you know is appropriate for such a greeting.

You hugged him. Wet clothes and all.

He was tense for the duration of the hug, and ended it quickly with pats to your upper back. A wide smirk graced your face as you looked up at him, and you can immediately tell—albeit covered by a face mask—that he’s unhappy of the outcome.

“Hi.” You greeted, the smirk getting wider at his apparent annoyance.

“There’s a kebab place nearby. Let’s go.”

It was a seven minute walk, and you were glad the place he led you to was rather dirty, cramped, and two girls were doing their homework on a table at the back. The food will definitely be good. You looked around for a place to sit after telling him what you wanted. Scouting for a table with no food left, you stood near a family of four and waited for them to leave.

Simon came back with the food you ordered and some drinks you definitely didn’t tell him to get. But it was apparently some foreign soda that you’ve never seen, and you were happy to get to try it. Halfway through your meal someone clapped his shoulders and you swear he was about to stand up and do something until he saw the other man’s face.

The man with a mohawk started, “Who’s this, LT?”

Simon skipped too many beats to answer, and looking at his face, you swear he was legitimately about to throw down, so you did what you think would be natural at a time like this.

“Oh, uhh… I don’t know him, I just sat here because the place was full.”

He then introduces himself. “Hi, I’m Johnny. This here is my mate, Simon.”

“Piss off, Johnny.”

Johnny laughed, and when he went to the cashier you were afraid he would join you, but he said goodbye as soon as he got his order.

Both of you ate in silence for a bit. “So you don’t know me, huh?” He finally cracked, smiling at you.

Oh thank god, you thought he was mad, “Sorry, you looked really uncomfortable.”

“That bad?”

You slowly nodded, “Honestly, yeah. Scared you were gonna beat him up on the spot.”

“Nah.” He sipped on his soda, contemplating something. “Do that at work though, not here.”

You blinked. “You’re gonna beat him up.. At work?”

He raised his eyebrows as a confirmation, and you can see he’s not gonna elaborate.

Leaving the place, he walked you back to your place, under the guise of needing a drink after having such a ‘rough night’.

“Why?” You teased him as you two walked in, “Is it rough because now your friend thinks you like people that looks like a wet rat?”

“Nah. He already knows I do.”

“What?”

He doesn’t say anything else, but he did tell Sam to make two whiskey sours.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #call of duty imagines #call of duty #scuffed writing #ngl there was supposed to be a line saying #‘yeah well you look like youd rather be circumcised for a 2nd time’#but someone (>:3) said brits dont get circumcisions so #that went out the window

582 notes · View notes

dopelavender · 9 months

Text

Trapped by your love | Eddie Munson x Reader

•

A/N

Pairing: Eddie Munson x female!reader

Summary: Eddie breaks up with the reader because he feels he doesn't deserve her :(

Word count: 2.8 k

Warnings ⚠️ : Angst, a whole lotta angst; alcohol consumption, and more angst ig??

Note: hi my lovelies! let me know if you want part 2, so we don't end it on a cliffhanger and I can bring some joy into your lives after all this angst! enjoy! ♡ XO

•

Your eyes are closed. The cool night air is vibrating around you, alive with the energy of dozens of teenagers in motion, trying to drown their sorrows in cheap beer and good music. Every beat is rushing through you, pumping your blood and electrifying your muscles. Your movements are fluid, hands up in the air, letting themselves be led by the sweet melody that’s flooding your ears, blocking out everything else.

“We are strong

No one can tell us we're wrong

Searching our hearts for so long

Both of us knowing

Love is a battlefield.”

Pat Benatar’s emotional words resonate with your heavy heart. They fill your head, substituting the loud thoughts that have been eating away at you for the past months .All you want to feel is this moment, because anything else would hurt too bad. As if thinking that you’ve forgotten about them for too long, yesterday’s memories crawl their way back into your mind. You chug your warm beer, trying to make them go away but they’re still there, making your chest tighten. Oh god, not now, you think. The crowd suddenly becomes suffocating. You elbow and push your way through the sweaty bodies, making your way inside to the pub’s tiny bathroom.

The door shuts behind you with a slam, as your hands harshly grip the cold sink tile beneath them. Your head drops, arms shaking as tears start streaming down your face. It’s been too long since it happened, you should be fine by now. But wherever you go, whatever you do, he’s always in the back of your mind. The music is now a muffled sound, but you still manage to make out the words that twist the knife in your heart

“ You're making me go

Then making me stay

Why do you hurt me so bad?

It would help me to know

Do I stand in your way

Or am I the best thing you've had?”

It’s hard to enjoy the party. It’s hard to think straight. It’s hard to stop crying. It’s hard to breathe….without Eddie.

March 1986. 6 months earlier

“So what are you saying?” There was no way this could be happening right now. You try and remain stoic, but it’s impossible. Your tone was getting louder, emotions pouring out of every word. Maybe you just hadn’t understood what he was telling you. Sometimes things get mixed up without us wanting them to. You sit on the couch in Eddie’s living room, trying to work out the reason he was saying these things. Playing with your hands, you squeeze them tightly in hopes of grounding yourself.

“I’m saying… I- I don’t think we should see each other anymore.” Eddie was leaning against the wall, his eyes glued to the floor. He couldn’t bring himself to look at you. If he saw your beautiful face, the face he loved more than anything in this world, he knew he couldn’t go through with it. But because he loved you so much, he had to. He had to put an end to it. It wasn’t going anywhere. You had just graduated, top of your class. You could go to any college you desired, yet you chose to stay here in Hawkings, with him. Your future was glistening brightly ahead of you, and all he was doing was slowly dimming the light, until there was nothing left but despairing darkness.

His fate had been decided by the family he was born into. His mother bailed out before he could even remember her face and his old man had been in and out of prison his whole life. Uncle Wayne had been the only form of parental love the boy had ever known and he was breaking his back day in, day out, to put food on the table. Society hadn’t been kind to him either. He was hated and labelled as a freak. Eddie knew his life wouldn’t amount to anything big. As much as he despised it, he could slowly see himself turning into his father. After all, he was a worthless drug dealer, repeating his senior year for the third time, wasn’t he? He selfishly allowed himself to fall in love with you. But how couldn’t he, when you were the most precious soul he had ever met? Not falling in love with you seemed like a challenge many a man have failed yet and yet again. In the end, he had to face the truth: you were just too good for him, and nothing would change that.

“Eddie...I-I don’t understand...Did I do something?” You look up at Eddie with your heart silently breaking, wondering where it had all gone wrong. The room starts to feel too small. You get up from the old couch, grabbing Eddie’s hand to make him look at you. But he doesn’t. His eyes stay focused on the floor, curly locks of hair falling over his face, hiding the tears that were starting to build in his eyes. “Please, please just tell me what it is so we can fix it. We can fix anything, baby. Just please tell me, Eddie…” You let go of his hand and bring both your hands to his chest, sliding them up to cup his face. He gently removes them and pushes you away, his eyes finally meeting yours. Eddie’s heart sinks as he looks at you, fully transparent, with fear and sadness written all over your face. Fear and sadness he had caused.

“This just isn’t working. We’re not working anymore.” That’s a lie, he thinks The words leaving his mouth were in complete antithesis with his feelings. But he knows if he told you the truth, the real reason he was breaking up with you, you would never accept it. So he had to sell it, somehow.

“What do you mean?” Should you have known he was feeling this way? Now, when you think about it, Eddie had been distant these past few days. No cuddles, barely there kisses and fleeting, superficial touches. You didn’t think much of it, blaming it on your conflicting schedules. He was busy playing shows since his band “Corroded Coffin” started getting recognition around Hawkings and you were busy at the diner, working extra shifts to earn some more money, since you and Eddie had been talking about getting a place together. But it seems there was more to it than you thought. You close your eyes, take a deep breath in and slowly let it out as you prepare yourself for the worst “Do you not love me anymore?”

His gaze shifts uncomfortably, looking everywhere he possibly can just to avoid your eyes, now open and expecting an answer. Of course I love you! I love you so much it hurts, he thinks. Even so, he doesn’t say that. Instead, he lies to you “No. I don’t”.

Your eyes close again, you can’t seem to keep them open for too long. The reality you were faced with was just too agonising. You feel your nails digging into the flesh of your palms, your hands curled into tight fists. The pain will hopefully wake you up from this horrible nightmare. And when you wake up next to Eddie, he’s going to kiss your wet cheeks and whispers sweet nothings in your ear until you fall back asleep, safely wrapped in his arms, the way you did a hundred times before.

But this time, the nightmare doesn’t stop as you open your eyes.

“I think you should go” his head leans against the wall behind him, his Adam’s Apple moving up and down as he tries to undo the knot in his throat that’s making it hard for him to talk. Please don’t leave me, he thinks. Please see through my act. You always said you could read me like a book. So do it now, sweetheart. Read me.

“I’m not going anywhere” That’s my girl, Eddie thinks “I’m not going anywhere until you look me in the eyes and you tell me you don’t love me anymore” You see his head snap down, jaw clenching as he searches your face carefully. You swear you can see a shadow of fear in his eyes. Why would he be afraid, when he’s the one ending things so carelessly?

Oh no, oh no no no, he rages inside his head. Please don’t make me do that. I can’t do that, Y/N...

Your eyes never leave his face, waiting for Eddie to do what you asked of him. This all seems unreal. He swore he would never hurt you, and you believed him. You believed him with every ounce of your being because he was Eddie. Sweet, kind, loyal, goofy, loving Eddie. You didn’t know who this person standing in front of you was. But it sure as hell wasn’t the man you fell in love with.

He looks at you, even though you’re putting on a brave face, like you always do, he can see how vulnerable you are. Your hands come up and wrap around yourself. He wants nothing more than to stop this. To hug you and kiss you and tell you you’re his universe.

“Say it” you raise your voice. “Say it Eddie, and I’ll leave”. And you would. You would leave his life, if that’s what he wanted. But only if he said it. You know that Eddie could never look you in the eye and lie to you. So if he’s going to say it, he must really mean it.

Eddie pushes himself off the wall, stepping closer to you. You breathe in his familiar scent, a mix of cologne, cigarettes and weed, thinking it might be the last time.

Don’t say it, Munson. Be selfish, he thinks. Say it was all a mistake, drop to your knees and beg for her forgiveness. As much as he wants to, he knows he’s doing the right thing for you. As much as it kills him, he has to make you leave him, because he knows he could never leave you.

“I don’t love you anymore” His face is wooden as he looks you in the eyes. Confusion, anger and defeat infiltrate your bones. Your heart is scorched and spasming. He really didn’t love you. Your Eddie didn’t love you anymore.

He opens the door to his trailer, stepping aside to make room for you “Now leave.”

Present day

A loud banging noise on the door pulls you out of your reverie. “In a minute” you yell and look at your reflection in the mirror. Your eyes were red and puffy, mascara running down your face. Well, aren’t you a sight to see? you think to yourself. You try your best to fix your makeup and pull yourself together before exiting the bathroom.

There’s a line of pissed off girls waiting outside the door, giving you dirty looks and making rude side comments as you walk past them “Jesus, how much coke did this bitch snort?” a redhead snickers. You ignore them and make your way to the bar, ordering another beer. You feel a bit of tension being relieved as the cold liquid pours down your throat, making you forget about everything for just a second. As quickly as it went away, it all comes flooding back in.

Breaking up with Eddie was the hardest thing you’ve ever had to go through. First, it was despair, excruciating pain that wouldn’t let you eat, sleep or do anything else than think about him. You called this the withdrawal stage. Every bone in your body was craving for him, and punishing you for not supplying. You figured you just had to sweat it out until he was out of your system. Although it was hard, you managed to make it through. But then came the dreams. Tortured dreams, reminiscent of your time spent with Eddie. You would dream about him laughing, embracing you, kissing you, making love to you, only to wake up heartbroken and alone, sobbing his name into your pillow. Now, it’s just this numbness and emptiness that never really goes away. It’s worse than the withdrawal or the dreams, because you’re starting to see things as they are. Before, there was a glimmer of hope that maybe you would get back together. But at this moment in time, you’re haunted by the thought of spending your life without Eddie by your side. And that’s something you would never be able to get used to.

These past few months have been a struggle trying to remember what life was like before Eddie. You go out with your friends, party, have meaningless one night stands and then do it all again the next day. It was all monotone, but for now, it was better than crying yourself to sleep.

Someone bumps into your back, making you stumble forward. You grab the countertop for stability and turn around, prepared to snap at the culprit.

“Hey, ass-“ your voice sticks in your throat when you see that familiar head of hair and that charming smile every girl in your high school used to swoon over. “Steve?” you stare at him, dumbfounded. For the first time in months, you actually feel true happiness.

“Oh my god, Y/N!” the very next second he pulls you into a tight, smothering hug, knocking the air out of you. As glad as you are to see him, and you truly are, it’s a bit difficult to breathe with Steve squeezing the life out of you.

“Steve-can’t-breathe…” you try and say, face buried into his chest. He lets go of you, but leaves his hands on your shoulders as if he can’t believe you’re actually there.

“Wow, look at ya! I almost didn’t recognise you, and I mean that in a good way” he smirks as he looks you up and down, taking in your outfit. Your style had changed a bit since the whole…Eddie thing. The colourful, decent pants and blouses being substituted by darker coloured, bolder dresses and skirts.

“So what’s up?” He finally lets go of you and motions for you to sit down in the stools.

“Nothing much. I’m here with some friends from college. But what about you? You’re quite a long way from Hawkings. What brings you here?” You see him shift uncomfortably in his seat at your question, picking at the label of the beer he had ordered for himself.

“Oh, uh…you don’t know?”

“Know what?” were you supposed to know something? “Ohmygod, did someone die? Is it Robin? It is, isn’t it? I always knew that clumsy lump would get herself killed one day!"

"What? No!" He stops your rambling

"Oh, thank God" you look at him relieved, with a hand over your chest "What's the occasion then?"

"Uh well you see-"

Steve gets interrupted by a mans hand on his shoulder. "Hey Steve, they're gonna start playing soon so you should come now if you wanna get a spot in the front"

"Right! Thanks man, I'll be right there" The man leaves and Steve's attention returns to you, his eyes still looking at you in a cautious and unsure manner. "Y/N, you really don't now who's playing tonight?"

"No, they usually don't have live bands and if they do I don't really care much for them, I just come for the bottomless Martinis and the cheap beer" you laugh, but Steve seems to be far from amused. "Why? Who's playing?"

As Steve opens his mouth to respond to you, he's interrupted by the sound of a guitar. An all to familiar voice speaks into the microphone, generating playback: "1,2,1,2…Alright, good evening ladies and gents. Hope you are all ready to rooock tonight, 'cause I know we are"

Your heart reacts before your brain, tightening at the voice you hear blasting through the speakers. Although you spend all your time fighting to forget that voice..it remains imprinted on your mind and soul.

You slowly turn around, looking to the stage at the back of the bar. "I am Eddie Munson and it is my pleasure to introduce to you... Corroded Coffin! Let's get it boys!"

To be continued

179 notes · View notes

beautifulbuckys · 2 years

Text

Perfume Allergy (Peter Parker x Reader)

Summary: Reader makes an unlikely friend on her flight to Italy.

Warnings: I believe a little swearing, talks of planes and such.

A/N: I came up with this story on a plane! It was a blast to write and I’m honestly really proud of it. I hope you enjoy!

You always found flying in an airplane to be an odd experience. A set amount of people, usually around 100 plus, were all leaving a certain destination to get to another destination; on the same time, on the same day. All hundred of those people board a thin metal tube that’ll fly at over 30,000 miles in the sky at around 500 miles per hour. If you were to ask these people why they’re going to their final destination; you’d get varied answers. Work, visiting family, college, going to a sports game.

Which leads you to now. If you’d been told this morning that you’d be witnessing a near allergic reaction freakout on your flight to Venice, you’d laugh. However, you can’t laugh now. There was a whole fiasco going on in the main cabin of the large plane.

“You said Peter has a perfume allergy?” A tall, bearded man in a tan golfers cap asked. “I’ll tell you from experience, perfume allergies are no joke. I can feel hives breaking out already,” The man stood up from his middle-row seat. A boy 2 rows up, sporting a zip-up dark blue hoodie also stood up. His expression was one of shock and disappointment, staring at another boy deeply. His brown hair was gelled neatly to the sides, creating a simple hairstyle.

The tall man commanded a few passengers, asking a pretty girl named MJ to stand up, and telling a boy named Ned to sit in her spot. The brown-haired, blue sweatshirt boy was staring at sat down. That’s Ned. Noted. The bearded man spun around the narrow aisle, pointing around other people to other seats.

“Ned, thank you for bringing this to my attention. Your safety is my responsibility,” The man said. He also muttered something under his breath, but you couldn’t quite make it out.

Once all the commotion ended, who you learned to be Peter and Mr. Harrington sat down in the row in front of you. Peter softly thanked the man for saving him and awkwardly shuffled to his seat. It was a funny situation. Mr. Harrington was right, perfume allergies were definitely no joke.

“Did I tell you about how my wife pretended to blip out? Turns out she ran off with a guy in her hiking group; we had a fake funeral for her and everything. Well, the funeral was real. I thought she was really dead. Do you wanna see the video?” Mr. Harrington rambled. You felt for Peter. He was publicly embarrassed by his friend for having a simple allergy. Now he’s stuck sitting next to his chatty teacher who makes strange comments. You chuckle, partly because of the hilarity of the teacher’s comment. The other part was due to the fact that Peter was going to be subjected to this for the next 9 hours. “Oh! You have a dual headphone adapter. Here, we can watch it together!”

Oof. This was going to be a long flight.

You didn’t think of the idea until an hour into the flight. This plane ride was international, meaning, obviously, you had access to the tablet screens hooked up to your seat. Most airlines carry a feature where you can chat with seatmates or other passengers on the plane. If you’re not mistaken, maybe you can make a new friend?

You bit your thumb as you scroll through all the computer features. The small screen carried almost everything. Hit new movies, streaming and live TV shows, cute little games, and more. After scrolling for a while, you found the ‘chat’ option.

A green welcome screen appeared before you. It requested you type in your desired chat buddy’s seat number. Well, he’s directly a row in front of you. If you are row 24, he’s row 23. After counting seat positions in your head, Peter should be 23F. Carefully, you type the seat number in; it alarmed you the passenger has been invited.

It took a long minute before Peter accepted.

23F: Hello?

24F: Hi…is this perfume allergy Peter?

Despite the loud roaring of the airplane engines, you heard a close groan. This frustrated reaction causes a slight chuckle to escape your lips. Hopefully, you thought, he didn’t hear this and wouldn’t immediately hate you.

23F: Ugh, you heard that?

24F: Loud and clear. Don’t worry though, I thought it was funny. Definitely not as embarrassing as you thought. That 16-year-old getting caught with the drink was far funnier.

Typing these long sentences on the small screen was rather difficult. It wasn’t the most efficient way to communicate. The small tiles on the keyboard could only do so much when you are trying to type fast. Your tapping was louder than the groan Peter let out moments before. Maybe he’ll be curious about the noise and look behind him to find you? You can't deny, that when you saw the boy stand up you found him attractive. His face had sharp features, and you couldn’t help but notice the muscle tone that shone through his flannel and sweatshirt.

23F: Would it be embarrassing to admit I know him?

You pause. Wait…was that kid also on this weird field trip Peter was going on? Must be a senior trip or something.

24F: Not as embarrassing as having the name Perfume Allergy Peter. Is this a school trip?

There was a slight pause in Peter’s responses. You’d imagined he also was having the same typing struggle you were. You heard some rustling in front of you. From the small crack between the seats, it had been Mr. Harrington. You could hear the soft snores coming from his open mouth. Jeez, he could catch flies with that thing.

23F: Harhar. Yeah, science trip. Most of my class is here.

The more you and Peter talked, you both learned about each other. Peter had an Aunt named May that he trusted with his life. He learned you were in Venice on a short vacation. Despite being a teenager, your parents trusted you immensely. So they bought your tickets and reserved the hotel. Peter had a best friend Ned, who was the boy he was sitting next to before he got up. He also didn’t have a perfume allergy. He fessed up on trying to sit next to a girl. You found it corny, but oddly charming.

You cracked a smile. As you attempted to type your reply, the screen froze up. A small alert came up reading ‘Announcement In Progress…’. Rolling your eyes, you tried your best to listen.

“Attention passengers. We have officially reached our cruising altitude of 30,000 feet. You are now able to use the in-seat power outlets located at the bottom of your seats as well as the bottom of the in-seat TV tabled located in front of you. Shortly, our flight attendants will be roaming the cabin with drink carts where you get a complimentary drink and snack. About halfway through our flight, you will be provided with a complimentary meal. To see the menu, you can find it on your TV screen under the ‘food menu’ option. Now, please sit back and enjoy our flight to Venice,” A friendly feminine voice came over the PA within the plane. Some jolted awake, while others were still completely passed out. That counted Mr. Harrington.

He shared more about the alcohol boy, who he called Flash. Peter told the story about how he once crashed the boy’s car. However, he left a lot of holes in the story. When you asked why he had it, he told some patchy story about being a part-time valet.

23F: You never told me your name.

24F: I’m a woman of mystery.

You’d caught Peter trying to turn around in his seat a few times. You knew he caught glimpses of you because you caught glimpses of him. Now that you’re closer in proximity to him, you saw more details. His left eyebrow had a bit of disturbance in it. He also had a small scar on his left cheek, close to the cheekbone. He was gorgeous. You couldn't deny it. Even on a travel day where he’ll be jet lagged and sweaty once the ride is done, he still looked amazing. You felt a little awkward in your baggy sweatshirt and yoga pants now.

23F: Wanna play 20 questions?

You chuckled. If you had a dollar for every time you’d heard that question in your teenage years; you’d be a quadrillionare. Sure, that’s not a real number. Which further encapsulates your dramatic point.

24F: Ick, is that your way of asking if I’m a virgin?

A hand appeared, dangling over your screen. It was Peter’s. He was flipping you off.

23F: I just wanted to know your favorite color :(

A tap on the shoulder made you jump. Your seatmate, a sweet older lady, was trying to get your attention. Slowly, she pointed towards the aisle on your left. You looked up from the screen, seeing a taller male flight attendant with a chunky grey cart. He smiled at you, motioning towards the cart.

“Anything for you, ma’am?” His kind smile caused you to smile as a reaction. His hair was red, funnily resembling someone from the Weasley family in Harry Potter. He wore a goofy-looking dark blue suit. In all honesty, it looked a bit large on him.

Your smile never faded, “Water, please.”

After you’d received the hilariously miniature cup, you saw another message pop up from Peter on your tablet. You’d set the plastic on your small table, placing it in the designated dip for cups that it offered.

23F: Gee, Smiley McGee over there. You’d think he had a six-pack under that suit or something.

24: Someone’s mad they don’t have a 6 pack under their flannel.

Suddenly, you hear more rustling and movement ahead of you. You peek through the crack; Peter’s teacher was still. His mouth was still wide open, and there was a slight snore. A seatbelt unbuckled and now someone is towering in front of you. Peter’s hands were dangling over your screen, leaning his entire body weight on the back of his seat.

“What if I did?” Peter questioned, playfully raising an eyebrow.

You humorously frowned, “What happened to the shy Peter I witnessed at the beginning of the flight? The one that had to be defended by a pretty girl? The one with the perfume allergy? Yeah, I miss him.”

He rolled his dark caramel-colored eyes.

“I think this is the part where you say ‘I have proof’ and you lift your shirt and boom, there are six-pack abs. And then I get all shocked and flustered because I didn’t expect you to be telling the truth. Then, we exchange numbers, get married, and live happily ever after. Just like in all the cheesy romantic comedies from the 90s. Foolproof plan!”

Peter laughed, shuffling around on his knees to get in a more comfortable position. “You’re a crazy lady. At least buy me dinner first.”

“Already did.”

“But it’s complimentary?”

You laughed, “I was hoping you didn’t hear that.”

Peter chuckled with you. For the past 5 hours, you’d been speaking to this boy. He knew your whole story. If you were a story, he was the best friend who knew your true origin. Considering the Avengers and stuff, maybe you secretly were a superhero. Or Peter? Nah. Who are you kidding? That kind of stuff doesn’t happen to teenagers flying out of JFK International Airport.

“Well…maybe you could make it up to me by possibly giving me a special 10-digit number?” The brunette suggested, raising his left eyebrow up and down.

You hold your hand up to your ear. You also squinted your eyes, really trying to fake not being able to hear him. “I’m sorry, Peter. The engines are too loud. I’m having a really hard time hearing you. Can you repeat yourself?”

“I want your phone number.”

“At least by me dinner first.” You smirked.

#peter parker #spiderman #marvel imagine #mcu #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #spiderman x reader #spiderman imagine #spiderman far from home #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #reader x peter parker #mcu imagine #fanfiction #fanfic #tom holland #tom holland x reader

2K notes · View notes

cheynovak · 14 days

Text

A Soldier's Future

Soldier boy x F/Reader

Warnings: none I guess , maybe a little spicy romance at the end.

Side note: English isn’t my first language

*Does not follow the boys timeline*

Y/N is a museum clerk at the old Vought Museum on the edge of town. The only and old exhibition about Soldier Boy. One night she met the man himself. After a night out she invited him to her house.

Surprised and confused when he turned out quite different then she thought. Very well-mannered and nice. Or is it all a facade?

The next morning

Y/N groaned as she slowly blinked her eyes open, wincing at the sharp pang in her head. The sunlight streaming through the window felt like a thousand daggers stabbing into her skull. With a sigh, she pushed herself into a sitting position, her bleary eyes taking in the familiar surroundings of her room.

As she struggled to piece together the events of the previous night, a vague memory of the night crawled back in her mind. After the failure of the dinner date Soldier boy had saved her from those jerks.

She had offered him another drink at home. a vague memory how they talked and laughed on the couch. And then she remembered the kiss when he went home. A soft smile appeared on her face.

Just as she was about to dismiss it all as a hazy blur and walk to the open kitchen her gaze landed on the figure slouched on her couch, his broad shoulders silhouetted against the morning light. It took her a moment to register the sight before her, her heart skipping a beat as recognition flooded her senses.

Ben.

She watched him sleep, unable to keep her eyes of his naked chest, her heart fluttering with a mixture of disbelief and joy. Had last night really happened? Or was it all just a beautiful dream?

But then Ben stirred, his eyelids fluttering open to reveal those mesmerizing green eyes, and Y/N knew that it was all too real. With a shy smile, she greeted him, her voice barely above a whisper. "Good morning," she said softly.

"Good morning," he murmured, his eyes soft with concern as he took in her dishevelled appearance. "How's your head?" Y/N managed a weak smile, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment at the memory of her hangover. "Not great," she admitted, her voice hoarse from sleep. "But I'll survive."

But as Ben's gaze lingered on her, a strange tension filled the air between them, leaving Y/N feeling uneasy and unsure. Had she misread the situation? Was last night just a mistake? What was on his mind.

Before she could voice her concerns, Ben was already on his feet, his movements stiff and awkward as he made his way to the door. “I really have to eh... go.” He said not looking at her. “Oh... ok.”

"Thanks for... taking me home," she called out, her voice wavering with uncertainty. But Ben just nodded, his expression unreadable as he mumbled a quick goodbye before disappearing out the door. And as Y/N was left alone in the quiet of her living room.

A sinking feeling settling in the pit of her stomach. She couldn't shake the sense of unease that had settled over her like a dark cloud, leaving her feeling vulnerable and exposed.

Had she said something wrong? Done something to push him away? The questions swirled in her mind, each one more agonizing than the last. She had let herself believe, if only for a moment, that last night had meant something to him.

But now, as she sat alone in her living room, she couldn't help but wonder if she had been mistaken all along.

Meanwhile, Ben walked the streets with a heavy heart, his thoughts consumed by doubts and fears. He had never felt this way before, not with anyone. Y/N had changed him, turned his world upside down in the span of a single night. And now, as he grappled with the unfamiliar weight of his emotions, he couldn't help but wonder if he had made a mistake.

He had always been a ladies' man, a Casanova, a player, living on the edge. But with Y/N, everything felt different. She had seen through his facade, seen the real him beneath the charming exterior. And now, as he walked the streets alone, he couldn't shake the feeling that he had let her down, that he had failed to live up to the person she believed him to be.

He had already stood her up, left her waiting alone while he dealt with his own demons. Afraid to tell her the truth, he had visited his ex-girlfriend, Crimson Counter mere hours before their date. And when he exploded, he had no idea of time and space for a moment.

After the black out he remembered Y/N, rushing to the museum hoping she would still be there. She had told him to deal with the past was to confront the ghosts of the past. But he was pretty sure she didn’t mean killing your old team.

So instead of facing his fear, telling he honestly what he did, he ran. Like a scared coward.

As Ben stepped into the dimly lit motel room, the tension in the air was palpable. Butcher's eyes narrowed as he glared at Ben, his expression a mixture of anger and frustration.

"Where the fuck have you been?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. Ben ignored him. "We had a job to do," he growled, his voice thick with anger. "And you went off the grid." Still no answer.

“Oi!” he pushed his shoulder. “I don’t own you any explanation!” he bit back. Making Butcher lift his hands in the air and take a step back. And as Butcher turned away, his attention already focused on the task at hand, Ben knew that he had a long road ahead of him.

First things first, killing payback, killing Homelander. Maybe, just maybe, then he could face Y/N again. Little did he know his future may change very quickly learning Homelander being his son.

After the fight at the Vought tower.

As Ben stumbled through the darkness, his heart heavy with the weight of his revelations, he knew that he was running out of options. The truth of his identity as Homelander's father had shaken him to his core, leaving him reeling with a sense of betrayal and confusion.

But as he reached Y/N's door, his hands trembling with fear and uncertainty, he knew that he had no choice but to seek refuge in her arms. She was the only one he trusted, the only one who had ever truly seen him for who he was.

With a shaky breath, Ben knocked on the door, his knuckles white with tension as he waited for her to answer. And when she finally opened the door, her eyes widened in shock at the sight before her.

"Ben?" she gasped, her voice filled with concern as she took in his bloodied appearance.

He could barely find the words to speak, his throat constricted with emotion as he tried to explain. "I... I need your help," he managed to choke out, his voice hoarse with exhaustion.

Y/N's eyes softened with compassion as she took in his battered form, her heart breaking at the sight of him in pain. Without hesitation, she pulled him into the safety of her apartment, closing the door behind them with a sense of finality.

As Ben collapsed onto the couch, his body trembling with exhaustion, Y/N set to work tending to his wounds. With gentle hands, she cleaned the blood from his skin.

Using a damp cloth, she gently wiped away the blood that stained his skin, her movements slow and deliberate as she worked to remove any traces of dirt or debris.

With each swipe of the cloth, she could see the tension in his muscles begin to ease, his breathing growing steadier as the pain began to recede. Once his wounds were clean, Y/N turned her attention to the task of stitching him up.

Her hands steady as she worked to close the jagged gashes that marred his skin.

And as she worked, she couldn't help but wonder what had brought him to her doorstep in the middle of the night, covered in blood and looking like he fought for his life.

And as she finally finished her work, she looked into Ben's sleepy eyes, with a sense of pride and satisfaction, knowing that she had done everything in her power to help him heal.

With a soft sigh, she leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, “ You should get some sleep. Take my bed.” He refused and lay down on the couch instead.

The next morning Ben woke by the smell of toast. Realising Y/N was preparing a breakfast for him, her smile worried. "Ben," she said softly, her eyes searching his for answers. "What happened last night? You came to me covered in blood, and I need to know that you're okay."

Ben's heart clenched at the concern in her voice, the love and warmth that shone in her eyes. And in that moment, he knew that he couldn't hide the truth from her any longer.

With a worried heart he told her about what he did to crimson countess, how he met Butcher and that he tried to kill Homelander his son. That the boys turned on him and ambushed him.

As he spoke, Y/N listened in stunned silence, her eyes wide with disbelief and fear. He could see the tension in her body, the way she instinctively drew away from him, as if afraid that the danger he spoke of might somehow touch her too.

Feeling the distance grow between them, Ben's heart clenched with a pang of regret. He hadn't meant to scare her, hadn't wanted to burden her with the darkness of his world. But he knew that he couldn't keep her in the dark any longer, couldn't pretend that everything was okay when it wasn't.

Y/N got up turning her back to him, staring out the window. Y/N met his gaze, her eyes brimming with uncertainty and fear. "I... I don't know what to think," she admitted, her voice trembling with emotion.

In the reflection of the window, she saw Ben's figure approach behind her, his presence looming large in the small space. His hand came to rest gently on her shoulder, and despite herself, she flinched at the unexpected touch.

Ben's touch was warm against her skin, a stark contrast to the chill that had settled in her bones. She could feel the tension in his body, the weight of his own uncertainty pressing against her back.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of her racing heart. "I didn't mean to scare you." He didn’t let go of her. “I need you to trust me, Y/N. I need you to believe that I would never do anything to hurt you."

Y/N closed her eyes, the weight of his words washing over her like a tidal wave. She wanted to believe him, wanted to trust that he would never hurt her. But the fear lingered, a constant presence in the back of her mind, whispering doubts and insecurities into the silence.

Y/N turned slowly to face Ben, her eyes meeting his. In the depths of his gaze, she saw a flicker of uncertainty. But as she looked into his eyes, she couldn't shake the nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach.

These were the eyes of a killer, eyes that had seen things she couldn't even begin to imagine. And despite the warmth of his touch, the gentleness in his voice, she couldn't help but feel a shiver of fear run down her spine.

“What do you need from me?” she asks, he could hear the fear in her voice. "I need you to trust me," he said softly, his voice tinged with vulnerability. "I need you to believe that I'm not the person I once was, that I'm trying to be better, for you."

Y/N's eyes searched his face. Ben reached out and took her hand in his, his touch warm against her skin. She looked at their hands connected. And as she looked back into Ben's eyes, the eyes of a killer, she knew that she had already made her decision. She would stand by him, no matter what.

Y/N's heart raced as Ben leaned in, his lips drawing closer to hers.

She hesitated for a moment, her instincts urging her to pull away. But as she felt his lips brush against hers, a spark ignited within her.

His kiss was like a wildfire, consuming her in its passionate embrace and leaving her breathless in its wake. With each tender caress of his lips, she felt herself surrendering to the intensity of their connection, losing herself in the heat of the moment.

Her senses were overwhelmed by the heady aroma of desire that filled the air, the scent of his cologne mingling with the warmth of his skin. And as she leaned into his touch, her hands trembling with anticipation.

As Ben's kiss grew more urgent, more demanding, a wave of uncertainty washed over Y/N, causing her to instinctively pull back. The sudden shift in intensity caught her off guard, leaving her breathless and disoriented as she struggled to make sense of the turmoil raging within her.

His touch, once so tender and gentle, now felt rough and desperate, sending a shiver of apprehension down her spine. She could feel the heat of his passion burning against her skin.

As she pulled away, a flicker of doubt crossed Ben's features, his eyes searching hers for any sign of hesitation. And in that moment, Y/N knew that she couldn't ignore the nagging doubts that lingered within her.

"Ben," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper as she struggled to find the words to express her inner turmoil. "I... I need a moment." Ben's irritation flared, her words ringing hollow in his ears.

He had bared his soul to her, had laid his heart on the line in a desperate bid for understanding and acceptance. And yet, despite her assurances of love and support, she still pushed him away when he needed her most.

As Ben glanced at Y/N, seated on the opposite side of the couch, he felt a pang of regret wash over him. The warmth that had once filled the room seemed to have dissipated, replaced by an icy chill that hung heavy in the air between them. He could see the fear etched in the lines of her face, the uncertainty that lingered in her eyes.

For a moment, he wondered if he had made a mistake in telling her about Crimson, if he had been too quick to share the darkest parts of his past without considering the consequences.

He had hoped that honesty would bring them closer together, would strengthen the bond between them. But now, as he watched her retreat into herself, he couldn't help but wonder if he had only succeeded in driving her further away.

He longed to reach out to her, to bridge the divide that had sprung up between them with a single touch. But something held him back, a voice of doubt that whispered warnings in the back of his mind. He had already pushed her too far already.

As Ben returned to the couch with a bottle of wine and a whiskey, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of nostalgia wash over him. The memories of their first night together lingered in the air, a bittersweet reminder of the passion and desire that had once burned between them.

Setting the bottles down on the coffee table, he poured them each a glass, the rich aroma of the whiskey mingling with the sweet scent of the wine. He glanced at Y/N, still seated on the opposite side of the couch, her eyes downcast as she stared into her lap.

"Here," he said softly, offering her a glass. "I thought maybe... a drink might help."

Y/N glanced up at him, her eyes meeting his for the briefest of moments before flickering away again. She reached out and accepted the glass, her fingers trembling slightly as she took a sip.

"Thank you," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

As the flickering images on the TV screen faded to black, Ben turned his attention to Y/N, hoping to break through the tension that had settled between them. He cleared his throat, searching for the right words to say, anything to ease her troubled thoughts.

"So... how was your day?" he asked, his voice gentle as he attempted to steer the conversation toward safer shores. Y/N glanced up at him, her expression softening slightly as she met his gaze. "It was... okay," she replied hesitantly, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

“I found a, eh, new job.” "Tell me about it," Ben pressed on, eager to keep the conversation flowing. She followed him and slowly but surely, he could feel the tension begin to ease.

After a glass of two the conversation was once again filled with laughter.

The warmth of her laughter, the sparkle in her eyes—everything about her seemed to light up the room, filling him with a sense of longing he couldn't ignore.

"So, Y/N," he began, his voice taking on a playful tone as he leaned in closer to her. "I've been meaning to ask... do you believe in fate?" Y/N raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Fate?" she echoed, her tone teasing. "Why do you ask?"

Ben shrugged, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Well, it's just that... I can't help but feel like maybe, just maybe, we were meant to meet," he said, his voice low and husky as he locked eyes with her.

Y/N's laughter filled the room at Ben's attempt at a smooth line, her eyes dancing with amusement as she teased him. "Oh, come on, Ben," she chuckled, shaking her head. "Do you really expect me to fall for that old 'fate brought us together' routine? That's like, Cheesy Pick-Up Lines 101."

Ben grinned, unable to suppress a laugh at her playful jab. "Hey, I'll have you know that was a classic move," he retorted, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. "But if you think you can do better, I'm all ears."

And with that, the game was on. They traded cheesy pick-up lines back and forth, each one more ridiculous than the last. From cheesy puns to over-the-top compliments, they spared no expense in their quest to one-up each other.

As Y/N rose to refill their glasses, Ben couldn't resist the urge to follow her, his steps closing the distance between them until he was standing just inches away. With a gentle touch, he guided her into his embrace, his arms wrapping around her waist as he pulled her close.

"Hey," he murmured, his voice low and intimate as he looked down at her, a playful glint in his eyes. "You know, they say that eyes are the windows to the soul... but I think yours are more like a doorway to heaven."

Y/N's cheeks flushed a rosy pink at his words, her breath catching in her throat as she met his gaze. The intensity of his stare sent a shiver down her spine, stirring something deep within her that she couldn't quite name.

"Ben," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath as she searched for the right words to respond. "That's... that's really sweet."

Ben smiled, a warm, genuine expression that reached all the way to his eyes. "Just speaking the truth," he said softly, his fingers tracing a gentle path along her cheek. "Your eyes, your lips... they're the most beautiful things I've ever seen."

As Ben gazed into Y/N's eyes, he felt a magnetic pull drawing him closer to her. His heart raced with anticipation as he traced the delicate curve of her lips with his eyes, lingering on the soft, inviting curve before meeting her gaze once more.

He takes the drinks out of her hands and pulled her closer to him.

The warmth of her body pressed against his, the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. He knew that he couldn't rush this, couldn't force her into something she wasn't ready for.

So instead, he leaned in slowly, his movements deliberate as he closed the gap between them with agonizing slowness. His lips brushed against hers with feather-light caresses, testing the waters, seeking permission without words.

And then, finally, he felt her respond, her lips parting ever so slightly beneath his own as she melted into his embrace.

as their kiss deepened, he heard a soft sound escape from Y/N's lips—a delicate, breathy moan that sent a shiver down his spine. It was a sound of pure pleasure, a silent invitation to explore further, to delve deeper into the depths of their shared desire.

For a moment, Ben hesitated, unsure if he had heard correctly. But then, as Y/N's moans grew louder, more insistent, he knew that there was no mistaking the arousal that burned within her.

Encouraged by her response, he deepened the kiss, his lips moving hungrily against hers as he sought to elicit even more delicious sounds from her. His lips traced a path along the curve of her jawline, down the slender column of her neck, relishing in the way her breath hitched with each teasing touch.

And as he felt her body respond to his ministrations, her moans growing louder and more urgent. As Ben's lips found their way back to Y/N's, he felt a surge of desire coursing through him, urging him to explore every inch of her with a newfound hunger. His tongue danced eagerly with hers, twirling and entwining in a passionate embrace that left them both breathless.

As Ben felt himself being overwhelmed by the intensity of Y/N's moans, he reluctantly pulled back, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he tried to regain control of his emotions.

"Y/N," he murmured, his voice husky with desire, "I... I need you to stop. I don't know if I can... if I can control myself if we keep going like this." But before he could finish his sentence, Y/N reached out and pulled him back in, her lips crashing against his with a fierce urgency that took his breath away. "I don't care," she whispered, her voice hoarse with desire. "I don't care where this ends.”

With a strength born of desire and determination, Ben effortlessly lifted Y/N into his arms, carrying her to the couch where he gently laid her down. As she gazed up at him with wide eyes filled with longing, he lowered himself on top of her, their bodies fitting together as if they were made for each other.

His hands roamed over her body, tracing the curves and contours with a reverence that spoke of his adoration. Every touch sent shivers of pleasure coursing through her, igniting a fire that burned hotter with each passing moment.

As Ben's lips caressed Y/N's body with a tenderness that belied the intensity of his desire, he couldn't help but feel a sense of awe wash over him. With each whispered confession of desire, he felt himself opening up in ways he had never thought possible.

"You drive me crazy, Y/N," he murmured, his voice husky with emotion. "But in the best possible way. You've changed me, made me see things differently. You've... you've made me better."

"Ben... You are not a bad guy."

And as she spoke, his lips trailed a path of fire along her skin, leaving a trail of longing and need in their wake. He lost himself in the taste and scent of her, revelling in the way she responded to his touch, her breath hitching with each caress.

As Ben continued to explore Y/N's body with his lips and hands, he couldn't shake the overwhelming sense of connection he felt with her. With each tender touch, each whispered confession, he felt himself unravelling, laying bare his soul for her to see.

"You see right through me," he murmured against her skin, his voice thick with emotion. "From the moment you looked at me, I knew you saw me for who I truly am. And I... I've never felt more alive than when I'm with you."

"You found me when I had no idea who I was."

As Y/N's hands ventured underneath his shirt, moving over his heart to his shoulder.

A thrill of anticipation shot through Ben, his skin tingling at her touch. With a gentle caress, she pulled his shirt off, exposing his chest to the warm glow of the room.

"Fuck! You have no idea what you do to me, Y/N," he murmured against her skin, his voice thick with desire. "The way you look at me, the way you touch me... it drives me wild."

Feeling her hands exploring his bare skin sent a shiver of desire coursing through him, igniting a fire that burned hotter with each passing moment. He leaned in closer, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he whispered, "Are you sure you're ready for this, Y/N?”

He locked eyes with her, “I'm not... I'm not a soft lover. I can be... intense, to say the least." He didn't want to hurt her, but he couldn't deny the raw hunger that burned within him, urging him to claim her as his own.

Y/N met his gaze with a fierce determination, a little giggle, her eyes filled with a longing that mirrored his own. "I'm ok with that," she whispered, her voice husky with desire. "I want this."

“Are you absolutely sure, because I won’t leave you anymore if we do this. I don’t think I can.” As she caressed his shoulders she looks up at his green eyes. “Ben. I want you... all of you. The good and the bad. ”

And with those words, all hesitation melted away as Ben surrendered himself to her.

Finally finding the love and peace he searched for all these decades.

I know, I know a very cheesy ending, but deep down we know Ben is a softy, right... right?

Let me know what you think, feel free to like, share or comment. Make sure you check out my masterlist.

Taglist: @yvonneeeee @suckitands33 @mostlymarvelgirl @deans-spinster-witch

24 notes · View notes

sserapic · 1 year

Text

maybe in another world, my dearest.

summary. getting into a relationship with the balladeer was your greatest mistake, though you don't regret anything that had happened between you. after taking the side of the good guys, he just never felt the love he used to feel every damn time he sees you. but if you couldn't handle the pain then you shouldn't feel it anymore, altering your memories of him is such a great idea. you say.

character(s). scaramouche/wanderer, gn!reader

tw. angst, no happy ending.

"come on, traveler, lead me to him."

you had convinced lumine that you're the lover of scaramouche, well, ex-lover. she hesitated despite the fact that you're a harbinger in which you couldn't be trusted very easily.

scaramouche sat there, under a tree, in the grass where he admired the view from up there. "wanderer." wanderer? had he changed identities?

he was certainly in shock to see you, well he should be, he left you in the dark and never came back which led you to search for him.

"oh, it's you."

you noticed how the traveler had left as you sat next to the former harbinger who you used to fought alongside with, who loved you so dearly but changed so damn quick.

"so, wanderer is the name you go with now?"

"yep."

even up until now you wish that he'd just fall in love with you all over again and come back to you, but you both know it wouldn't even work out anymore even if he did come back to you, the feeling left him but yours never escaped.

"y/n, you do not have to make yourself suffer like this. just go back to being the harbinger you are, but im afraid i cannot stand beside you any longer."

you fought back the tears trying to break free from your eyes, "but i cant. i always need you by my side." you sniff, refusing to even look his way.

"you have to, you can't just cry about me all the time. you're the 5th of the fatui harbingers, there's a chance that we might be each other's opponents someday."

the thought of him taking the side of the good guys while you stayed with the villains hurts like fuck. but somehow, you also cannot betray the tsaritsa.

"why does it hurt so much.." your voice muffled from covering your face with both hands, not wanting him to look at you, crying.

"because the love you had for me was genuine, and so was mine. but ive already moved on, neither will mine come back even if we get back together."

he stood up, lending you a hand.

as soon as you got back to your feet you pulled him close and sobbed in his chest, he let you sob your pain out, ignoring the fact that you're ruining his clothes.

"the traveler has mentioned that nahida can alter memories, is she telling the truth."

"yes, but wh-"

"can you please just make her erase mine?"

"y/n i don-"

"please.."

although he had to make sure that the God of Wisdom was alright with helping a harbinger, he agreed and so did nahida. she was honestly touched and wounded from hearing about you and sc- the wanderer.

he wished to stay and observe how nahida erases him from your memories and will forever be an enemy in your eyes once this finishes.

"one last time, y/n. are you okay with this."

you nodded, glancing at your ex lover one last time. if the Gods ever allow you to live once more, at least let it be with him.

"here we go."

tears started streaming down on your cheek as you closed your eyes, and felt weird seconds later. your eyes opened and observed the unfamiliar place you were in, turning your attention to a certain man beside you who was on the verge of tearing up.

maybe in another world, y/n. i will love you with all i have, that's a promise.

now he just has to watch you from afar, knowing that he would forever be the opponent of the side you've always been with. as much as he wanted to grab his feelings back, he couldn't.

note. hey !! this has been sitting in my drafts for weeks now, and this is actually inspired by a genshin oneshots book in Wattpad ! also about the smau, i commented on the second chapter. please take a look at it if you're waiting for an update on the smau !

#genshin scaramouche #wanderer angst #scaramouche angst #scaramouche x reader #genshin angst #genshin impact angst #wanderer x reader

328 notes · View notes

unhonest-iago · 1 year

Text

My Pretty Little Galway Girl

Idk why I made the set up for this so long. That said, happy w/ how it turned out.

P/t—preferred temperature

F/m/g—favorite music genre

Fem reader

Corpse meeting y/n at a dive bar, him in the audience and them on the stage. Fingers plucking the strings on their violin, the body nestled between shoulder and chin. Long skirts swaying as they moved across the stage. 'Why hello there stranger,' greeting Corpse after he sent them a drink.

Two fingers shooting upward in a mini salute when y/n looked towards his end of the bar, deciphering who had sent it. A handsome man with unruly black hair. 'Name's Corpse.'

'Y/n. Hopefully you don't murder people as a hobby.' They joked, not thinking Corpse could become any more attractive when they heard his laugh. 'Can promise you I've never murdered anyone. Plus haven't met anyone to murder.'

'Oh, so are you new to town new or new to this neck of the woods new?' Crossing a leg over the other, smoothing their skirt down. 'As in moved here a week ago.' Y/n, entranced by the man decided to be his tour guide. Asking if he was free the following weekend. 'What for?' The tone of the conversation carrying a wind of coyness. 'Sight seeing, if you're up for it.'

‘Hop on, stranger.’ The term quickly became a staple nickname y/n uses for Corpse. Corpse glad he wore jeans at the sight of their motorcycle. ‘Nice to see you again, fiddler.’ Corpse looping his hands around their waist.

Y/n ends up taking him to all the hole in the wall joints that tourists would never find. Purposely choosing the scenic routes. The day closing with the duo sat on top of a hill, watching the sun go down as they shared a pile of fries. 'Thanks for this.' Corpse whispers. Nudging their knee with his, 'No problem, was nice to get an outsider's opinion. Finally got to share it with someone.'

Chat notices that Corpse is happier and starts conspiring whether he has a partner which scares the fuck out of him because he hasn't told y/n what he actually does for a living. So he sits y/n down that week and explains it all to them. 'Can I watch you stream? It's fine if not.' Corpse helps them set up an account.

Corpse being just as supportive with y/n's work. Going to a gig here and there when he has nothing to do. Still taken a-back at how comfortable they are on stage, even though it's more of a slate platform. Y/n spotting him when they once again get a drink sent their way. Mouthing the word 'tease,' and Corpse simply mouths back 'but you love me for it.'

Leads to them moving into an apartment together. Corpse getting some of his friends to help carry boxes in if they're free. Y/n unlocking the door after they park the rental truck into the parking lot. Living together, y/n learns that Corpse is a big night owl and takes his coffee black. Corpse learns that y/n likes the thermostat on p/t and that they like to listen to f/m/g while cleaning

A year rolls around and it's now springtime. 'What's got you all excited?' Corpse asks as he hugged them from behind, having noticed how y/n had a little pep in their step. 'St. Patrick's Day is next week. Actually got to the store early enough to get a whole brisket.'

His eyebrow furrowed as he asked, 'brisket for what?' Apparently he'd wrongfully assumed that it was gonna be another day. 'Corned beef and cabbage, my folks always made it for St. Patrick's Day. That or we'd go to an Irish pub for lunch.' Thinking back to it, Corpse had met y/n in one such pub a year prior on the aforementioned day.

'Did we meet because of--?' Lifting his head from their shoulder. 'Yea, we did. But that was a coincidence, wasn't supposed to work that day.' The usual violinist unable to play as they'd inexplicably broken their wrist. 'Do you do the whole pinching thing?'

'No, you can still go out in your dark aesthetic,' playful teasing at how most of his wardrobe was the quintessential 'I'll stop wearing black when they make a darker color.' But so was theirs, Corpse's fashion taste rubbing off on them.

Corpse helped set the table, every time he tried helping in the kitchen, he'd immediately get booted by y/n. It'd been on the stove, simmering away for 3 hours. 'Corpse, could you get the balsamic vinegar? Should be in the fridge.' Somehow switching roles when Corpse gently nudged them aside once he saw them struggling. 'I got it, now how thin do you want it?' Gesturing with their thumb and pointer.

'You sure you like it? Not too tough is it?' Corpse, placing down his silverware, grabbed y/n's hand. Running his thumb in circles against their wrist. 'It's perfect, fiddler.' Kissing their cheek. 'Thanks, stranger.'

#iago writes #x reader #corpse x fem reader #corpse husband x reader #corpse husband #offline tv #x fem reader #corpse x reader #holidays w/ corpse

97 notes · View notes

guess-my-next-obsession · 1 year

Text

August — Chapter Two

pairing: frankie morales x f!ofc (rebecca herrera)

warnings: NSFW 18+ (MINORS DNI), semi-public spicyness, handjob?kinda?, risk of getting caught, age gap relationship (15+ years), secret relationships, mid-20s existentialism, angst, pining, all the feels to come

words: 5k

series playlist | previous chapter | masterlist

“Jesus, Bex. You look like you just saw a ghost,” Sam winced as he watched Becca walk into the house, speechless and pale from her surprise encounter with Frankie. “Oh, are you embarrassed ‘cause you met my dad’s friend dressed like that?”

“Yeah, Sam. That’s exactly right.” She spoke breathlessly as she continued walking ahead down the long hallway to her room.

It was a confusing and gut-wrenching feeling, seeing the man that just made her feel like a woman for the first time in her life around the two men who made her feel the most like a little girl out of everyone she knew.

After a long and hot shower, Becca emerged from the bathroom with a towel on her head, dressed in an old t-shirt and sweats. Her red and tired eyes hadn’t even focused when she bumped into a firm body waiting outside the bathroom.

“Oh!” She grunted and batted the water from her eyelashes as she looked ahead at a t-shirt clothed chest. Her eyes lifted until she met Frankie’s dark brown ones, her lips parting at the sight of him so close. “Oh.”

“I was just—“ His words caught in his throat as he gestured at the bathroom, though he was unable to take his eyes away from her effortlessly gorgeous face. After a moment of mutual silence, he took a breath to speak again, offering just a hint of a growing smile that made her heart sink to the floor. “Hey, I just wanted to say—“

“Becca! Can you come help me set up this fucking smart TV? I can’t figure out how to cast my phone to it!” Her father’s voice boomed from the living room, making her sigh and close her eyes.

“Yeah, dad!” She shouted back with a sigh, watching as Frankie’s smile became pursed, his eyes dropping to the ground as he squeezed past her to use the still-steamy bathroom. Her eyes remained locked onto him until he closed door, a sigh of frustration and longing leaving her lips as she stood there staring at the door.

“Bex!” Her father called again, interrupting her moment of yearning.

“Coming!” She breathed in a calming breath and gathered her composure before walking to the living room, the entire family gathered on the gigantic sectional. She gestured at her cousins sitting around on their phones and kissed her teeth. “None of you could figure it out?”

“They said you were the best at it.” Her father handed her the remote before sitting down beside her mother, everyone looking cozy except for Becca—as per usual. With a defeated sigh, she got to work setting up the wifi and downloading the necessary streaming apps, logging in before handing the remote over to her father.

“Here,” she sighed and scratched her scalp underneath the towel, taking it off and shaking her dark hair out.

She had no intention of sticking around for a movie, having had more than enough drama happen in her own life today. Grabbing a water bottle from the kitchen, she started down the hall, her mother’s voice stopping her before she could get too far.

“Where are you going?” She asked sweetly, watching as Becca gave her a flat smile.

“I’m tired, I think I’m just gonna go to bed.”

“Must be something about partying in town,” her uncle added, gesturing down the hall. “Frankie was out all day and is dead tired, too. And I’ve never seen him too tired to watch a movie. Rob, me and you might have to go see what all the fuss is about tomorrow night. Two forty something year olds on the town again like our glory days, huh?”

“I’m coming along,” Sam interjected on their plans while Becca’s heart thudded loud enough to drown them out.

Without another word, she turned and walked down the hall, her heart leaping out of her chest when Frankie opened the door to the bathroom, stepping out with a towel around his waist. She eyed his form from top to bottom, thankful that none of her family could see her so openly lust for him.

“Going to bed?” He asked as he toweled off his damp curls, his husky voice almost in a whisper. She nodded slowly and locked her eyes with his, gesturing at her bedroom. Frankie nodded and flickered his eyes to her lips, tilting his head towards the stairs. “Me too.”

“Cool.” She choked out, her mouth dry as she tried to keep her composure. After a beat, she realized she’d been lingering and cleared her throat, pointing at her room and walking off towards it. “Hope you sleep well, Frankie.”

“I have a feeling I won’t.” He murmured under his breath as he watched her walk past him, her ears burning at the flirty comment. “Goodnight, Becca.”

“Night,” she whispered back, barely able to speak over the thumping sound in her chest. She quickly opened her door and closed it behind her, pressing her back to it and taking a moment to remember to breathe.

How was she supposed to survive this week without caving? How was she supposed to look at him and not see the man that picked her up at Jose’s bar? The man that had charmed her and calmed her and kissed her like she’d never been kissed before? Even the sound of her name falling from his lips was enough to keep her mind reeling all night.

Little did she know, Frankie wasn’t in any better shape than she was. Not after seeing her standing there in her bathing suit, not after bumping into her outside the bathroom, not after witnessing the way she looked up at him with the sort of reckless desire he’d long forgotten about, not after hearing his name fall from her lips so dangerously. No, he wouldn’t be sleeping well, either.

“Morning, sunshine.” Her uncle smiled at her as she stepped into the kitchen with bed head and tired eyes, cracking a smile until she saw Frankie leaning against the counter with a grin, sipping on a coffee.

“Uh…morning.” She forced her eyes open and turned towards the fridge, opening it and grabbing a bottle of water while desperately attempting to avoid her uncle’s handsome friend’s unabashed gaze.

“Help yourself to the rest of breakfast,” he jokingly gestured at the empty pans. In fairness, she hadn’t expected to wake up to much, especially since she hadn’t gotten out of bed until eleven.

“Uh, I actually saved you a plate,” Frankie interjected, bringing both pairs of eyes to his. He gestured to the microwave behind her with a soft smile. “Figured even the late sleepers deserve to eat.”

“Well that was nice of you, Frankie.” Her uncle nodded with an impressed smile, but she remained frozen, looking at him as though he was some sort of mystical being, and to be frank, he kind of was, at least to her. “Are you going to say thank you, Bex?”

“Sorry—thank you.” She finally cracked a polite smile and turned around, opening the microwave and seeing the neatly put together plate waiting for her. With a half-smile, she reheated the food and turned back around, seeing her uncle walking out towards the patio while Frankie remained inside with her. “That was really nice.”

“Someone’s gotta look out for you.” He said simply, his smile soft as he lifted his mug to his lips. “Did you sleep well?”

“No,” she confessed before hearing the microwave beep, turning and grabbing the plate, sitting it on the counter beside her. “Did you?”

“No. Not at all.” He raised his mug and watched as she scarfed down the food like a hungry animal. Becca smiled through her chewing, Frankie’s knowing smirk stirring a frenzy of butterflies in her stomach.

“Where’s everyone else at?” She gestured at the quiet house, her uncle the only person outside on the patio.

“Your mom just took your cousins to a spa, I think? And your dad and Sam left about a half hour ago to go golfing.” She nodded, absorbing the sting of her family off having fun without even thinking of waking her to join. “And your uncle is about to go fishing.”

“Oh,” she nodded, her tone full of melancholy as she realized that she was about to be left completely alone.

“And…I’m still not feeling too well,” he added with a growing smirk, watching as her mood seemed to lift instantly. “So I’m going to stay back and…rest up.”

“Yeah?” She hated the eagerness in her voice, but knew there was no sense in hiding it from him. He seemed to read her like a book anyways.

Frankie looked over his shoulder and out the window at his friend already down the beach with his fishing boat waiting for him. He chuckled and set his mug down on the counter behind him before looking back to her, slowly closing the gap between them until he was cupping her face. She sucked in a sharp breath at the closeness and looked up into his warm eyes, too scared to breathe and ruin the moment.

“Wanna rest with me?” He asked in a hoarse whisper, her head nodding as he held it. He grinned at her and leaned down, capturing her lips in a soft and delicate kiss, as though to test their original connection again. Of course, the spark hadn’t faded. It had only intensified. “C’mon. Let’s go before they all get back.”

“I need…a shower.” She gulped and felt the sudden nervousness fill her stomach at the thought of being intimate with him, though she wasn’t apprehensive about it. She knew she wanted him—and wanted him bad—but it was the first time she’d ever been with a man, though she’d lied to her friends and mother and said she had.

“Oh, I just meant…I just meant us getting to spend some time with each other. I didn’t mean—“

“Oh!” She felt her cheeks turn red and she covered her face, backing away and rushing off down the hall, Frankie’s feet quick to follow her. “I’m sorry. I—yeah. I sound like—“

“Relax, querida.” He stopped her in the hall and held her by the shoulders, smiling down at her. “I’m not offended and you don’t ‘sound’ like anything…I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about you and me…together. Especially after the way you kissed me at that salsa club.”

“You have?” She asked, again hating the way she seemed to always sound like a lovesick teenager.

“I have.” He confirmed with a smitten grin and let go of her. “Go take a shower, do whatever you need to do to calm down. I’ll be in the living room. We can watch a movie, or just talk…anything.”

“Okay.” She nodded and moved past him into the bathroom, doing a dance of pure bliss after closing the door behind her. What was happening? Was she still asleep and dreaming? Or was he really there, making up lies to stay behind just to be alone with her for a little while? Whichever it was, she made sure to hurry up her shower just so she could get back to the daydream that was everything him.

“What movie did you—“ She came rushing into the room with a grin, her smile turning flat as she saw her dad and Sam sitting with Frankie on the couch, the latter shooting an apologetic look her way. “I thought—thought you guys were out at the golf course?”

“Way too fucking hot for that,” her dad shook his head and sipped his beer. Becca nodded and tried to hide her disappointment as she joined the men, taking the spot next to Frankie but remaining a few feet from him. “Decided we’d come back and start up the grill. I’m thinking carne asada tacos for lunch, how’s that sound?”

“Sounds great, dad.” She offered a flat smile and nodded, eyes flickering to Frankie’s hands as they rested in his lap, twiddling his thumbs.

“Did my little cousin ruin your plans?” Sam blurted out, making both Frankie and Becca’s eyes shoot his way. “She likes to hole up inside watching movies and reading and shit. Don’t let her guilt you into staying back here with her.”

“No,” Frankie furrowed his brows and shook his head, glancing over at her to gauge her reaction. It broke his heart to see her looking so resigned, as if she had been accustomed to this sort of bullying all her life. “I like to stay inside and watch shit too.”

“Look at that, cuz! You might actually have a friend!” He teased and stood up, walking to the kitchen with a stretch. “I’m gonna do some shots, who wants in?”

Becca needed anything that could take the edge off, her cousin’s harshness not as hurtful as it was just plain embarrassing.“You know what, I wouldn’t mind—“

“I’m talking to the grown-ups, Bex.” He interrupted, stopping her as she began to stand up. Becca sat back down with an embarrassed look all over her face, Frankie’s heart hurting for her.

“You’re what, 25?” Frankie interjected, making Becca crack a grateful smile.

“24.” She corrected, though she knew he already was aware of her real age.

“24, that’s old enough for a shot.” He stood up and walked over to the kitchen, waving her over. “I’ll only take one if Becca takes one.”

“Alright, cuz’. I guess you win this one.” Sam smiled her way and waved her over. “Vodka or tequila?”

“Tequila.” Becca and Frankie both answered in unison, the corners of her mouth turning up as she avoided his glance at her.

“Tequila it is!” Sam poured three shots before looking over at his half-asleep uncle. “Uncle Rob, wake the fuck up. It’s time for a shot.”

“No, no. I’m going to go start the grill.” He shook his head and stood up, walking out back to the patio.

As Becca reached for her shot glass, her hand grazed Frankie’s, their eyes meeting at the contact before turning away quickly. Without care for a toast, she tossed the first shot back, needing some relief for the burning ache she held for him.

It felt all consuming, this forbidden desire between them. It was already something fiery and passionate before, in the bar and on the dance floor, but now that being together was strictly off limits, she wasn’t sure she’d ever really wanted anything before. Not as much as this.

“Shit, Bex. Here let me get you another.” Sam chuckled and filled her shot glass again. “Alright, let’s toast this time. Frankie? Wanna do the honors.”

“To old friends and new.” He lifted his shot glass and looked down beside him at Becca’s grin, her eyes avoiding his as she clinked her glass with theirs. The three of them tossed back the liquor and shuddered in unison. “God, that’ll do it.”

“Hey, Frankie. I was thinking tonight you and I could hit the town tonight. We’re both single guys on the prowl, I’m sure we could be each other’s wingmen for the night.” Sam offered, and Becca’s eyes turned to study Frankie’s reaction. He pursed his lips and nodded slowly, as though he was unsure of how to reject his offer.

“Frankie actually already has a girlfriend.” Becca interjected, watching both Sam and Frankie looked her way with a surprised expression. “Yeah, we’ve been gossiping about it all morning like two old hens.”

“Oh?” Sam turned and nodded impressed. “She hot?”

“She’s a lot of good things.”

“Ah, so she’s not.” He patted Frankie on the back and chuckled to himself, Becca rolling her eyes at her frat boy cousin. “Well, maybe we can take Bex out and finally find her a boyfriend, then. She never brings any around.”

“Oh yeah? Why not?” Frankie turned to her and his amused grin alone rendered her speechless. She swallowed thickly and shrugged, chuckling.

“I’m just too much of a bachelorette. Can’t find anyone to tie me down.” She watched as Sam chuckled and shook his head.

“Yeah, that’s it.” He quipped sarcastically before turning to walk out back with his dad. “Come on, Frankie. You don’t want to be around her all day, trust me.”

“She seems fine to me.” He murmured, reluctantly leaving with him, shooting a wink over his shoulder at Becca.

God, this man.

“Alright, Becca!” Her mother nudged her daughters side as the entire family plus Frankie sat around the bonfire later on that night. “Truth or dare, baby.”

“Uh,” she grinned, mostly from the alcohol, but also from the pair of brown eyes staring at her from across the fire, a grin on his own face. “Truth?”

“Okay,” her mother stroked her chin with a smile as she eyed her daughters nervous face, her nose scrunched up as she awaited the most likely cringe-inducing question. “What’s one thing that you got away with that me and your dad never found out about?”

“Oh shit,” Sam snickered and nudged Frankie. “Thank god I only choose dare.”

“Real bravery is choosing truth. Especially when it’s your mom asking,” he added, his eyes locked on Becca as she scratched the back of her neck.

“Uh, I got a One Direction tattoo on my ass junior year of high school.” The entire circle gasped, except for Frankie who bursted into a cackle, clapping his hands.

“Oh my god!” Her mother started to laugh as well, pretending to strangle her only child. “Well, ya. Didn’t know about that. Rob?”

“Well, that’s my saint of a daughter.” Becca’s father shook his head and laughed, taking a swig of his beer. “Jesus, I think that’s it for me. Calling it a night.”

“Yeah, we all should get some rest. We have the booze cruise tomorrow, remember? Eight in the morning—all of you, up!” Uncle Joe stood up and commanded the kids, ushering his girls into the house. Everyone else in the circle stood up to go inside, but Becca remained seated, not yet ready to put her mind or body to bed. As Frankie got up to walk inside, he noticed her remaining firmly planted in her seat. Not wanting to leave her alone, he waited and stayed back until everyone else had gone in and walked off to bed.

“You okay?” He asked, standing beside her and looking into the fire with her.

“Yeah,” she nodded and looked up at him before allowing her eyes to travel lower, his crotch right at eye level beside her. “Mostly.”

“Mostly?” He asked, sitting down on the sand beside her chair. “Why mostly?”

“Because…I want you and I can’t have you,” she drunkenly admitted, her need for him having finally reached its limit after a pitiful 24 hours. Frankie sighed out a chuckle and hung his head. “I want you so bad, Frankie. I’ve been wanting you since I met you…I can’t stop.”

“Querida,” he sighed out a warning and brought his eyes to hers, looking like he was in physical pain as he tried to find the willpower to deny her.

“No,” she shook her head and stopped him from his rejection. “I know you want me too. I can see it.”

“I—we can’t. Your uncle is one of my oldest friends, I can’t.” He tilted his head and almost whined, begging her to make it easier on him.

But of course, she didn’t.

“You want me, I know you do.” She stood up and started walking down the sandy hill to the ocean, looking over her shoulder. “I’m going for a swim…if you want to join.”

“Becca,” he sighed and stood up, whipping his head over to look into the house, the lights now off and everyone sound in bed.

Throwing caution to the wind, he scratched his neck and adjusted the baseball cap he was wearing, following her down the sand until they’d reached the dark ocean shore. Becca turned around and began shedding her sundress and bikini, her eyes locked with his as she stood bare in the moonlight in front of him. Frankie combed a hand over his face and covered his mouth at the sight of her nude, sauntering into the cold water with a smirk. He looked back up the hill to make sure no one could see them from here before taking off his clothes as well.

“Fuck it.” She laughed as he stepped into the water, his brows furrowing and his lips forming an “o” as he winced at the temperature. “Fuck, that’s cold!”

He stomped through the waves until he reached her, his hands cupping both sides of her face and leaning down to press a chaste, testing kiss to her lips. “Your uncle would kill me if he found out—“

“He won’t,” she assured, sliding her hands around his body and hugging him close, resting her head against his broad chest. They stayed standing still for a moment, listening to the ocean and looking out at the way the moonlight rippled against the waves. Though they knew their time together would be fleeting and sparse, it almost felt more important to share this moment of peace and silence than to do anything else. “Thank you for always sticking up for me.”

“Why are you thanking me?” He lifted her head up and held her cheek in his palm, watching as her pretty brown eyes fluttered shut and she shrugged.

“Because you don’t have to. Because we’ve only just met and you already understand me better than my own family.” She opened her eyes again and studied his face, reaching up with a smile and grabbing his hat before placing it backwards on her own head. Frankie grinned softly back at her, his hand traveling to the nape of her neck and pulling her in, his head dipping down so that he could meet her halfway in a gentle and all-too-loving kiss for the casual nature of their friendship. Pulling away for air, Becca stared at him in bewilderment, his face glowing from the moonlight. “I feel like I made you up. Like I need to go get my brain checked out. I might have a tumor and you’re my first hallucination.”

“I’m real.” He chuckled and shook his head, his fingertips traveling down her spine until he was holding her waist. With a sigh and a smile, he shook his head, chuckling and letting it hang for a moment before lifting his eyes back to hers. “I hate that this had to be our situation, you know? Because I’m not sure if we’ll ever…I’m not sure how we’re going to go about this.”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged, lifting her hand up and combing it through his tousled brown waves. “And I don’t really care.”

“You’re just so…laid back, and…cool. Too cool. You make me nervous.” He confessed, watching as she gave him a shocked look and snorted out a laugh. “I’m serious, you’re always so calm and composed. So quiet and chilled. I’m not…I’m constantly going crazy wondering if I’m staring or if everyone else can see just how badly I’ve been wanting you.”

“Well…how badly…have you been wanting me?” Her hand trembled as she lowered it down his chest and stomach, his eyes dropping to watch it as it inches closer and closer to his building erection resting against her stomach. Frankie’s breath hitched and his lips parted as she wrapped her palm around his girth, languidly stroking the velvety soft skin. “You can’t be wanting me nearly as much as I’m wanting you.”

“I do,” he lifted his eyes to hers and grabbed her face with both hands, crashing his lips against hers so hard that it hurt, though the pain was a welcome addition to the pleasure. She moaned against his lips and he used the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth, her grip on his shaft tightening as she pumped him with a purpose. “God, I want you so bad…I don’t care what happens next, I just want—“

“Frankie!” Becca froze at the sound of her cousin’s voice, turning around so that she was better hidden behind his broad frame in case he came any closer.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He murmured in a panic as he looked down at her, trying to figure out a game plan. “How long can you hold your breath?”

“Hold my breath?!” She whisper yelled at him, earning another panicked look. She sighed and looked down at the relatively still saltwater around her waist, dreading the thought of having to submerge herself in it. “I…can try.”

“Wait,” he took a breath and carefully turned around, hiding her frame with a bit more generosity than daylight would’ve allowed. Luckily, the water was high enough and the night was dark enough to protect his modesty. Also very fortunate for the two of them, Sam still stood on the top of the hill, looking out from the patio about a football field away.

“Yeah?” Frankie called back.

“We all just thought you’d gone missing!”

“Nope,” he called back with a nervous chuckle. “Just going for a swim!”

“Oh, alright! I’ll tell my dad you’re still alive,” Sam joked and looked around. “Have you seen my cousin?”

“No, I thought she went inside with you.” He felt his pulse race as he waited for a response.

“Little kid, must’ve snuck out to the bars. Well, if she isn’t home by the time you come in, just lock her out.” He joked again before walking back inside. Frankie waited a moment, watching for signs of anyone else before turning around and looking down at Becca with relieved eyes.

“I’d never do that to you.” He reassured playfully and smiled at her, his heart still pounding but the need to shield her from the cruelty, even if only a joke, took priority. Becca smiled and nodded, taking a relieved breath of her own. “C’mon, we gotta go inside. Tonight’s not the night.”

“Couldn’t it be?” She asked hopefully, offering a knee weakening smile. Frankie shook his head and frowned at her lovingly, stroking her cheek.

“Too risky.” He leaned down and placed a soft and slow kiss on her lips. “I promise we’ll find the right moment, and it’s gonna be…worth it.”

“You know,” she twisted her mouth before looking down at his still half hard length, her hand reaching to stroke it in the water. Frankie’s brows furrowed and he sighed, from pleasure or frustration, she wasn’t sure, nor did she care. “We could go into the shed right over there…”

She pointed behind him at the dark shed on the side of the property, the lights of the patio unable to reach it. Pedro looked back at the small wooden room, weighing his options carefully.

“I could lay my dress down on the dirty old floor…and you could get on top of me…and no one would ever know a thing.” She knew it was the alcohol that turned her into such an expert seductress, never possessing the ability to talk so candidly sober.

“Baby girl, you’re torturing me,” He sighed and bounced his eyes across her features while she stared up at him, hand still firmly wrapped around his cock.

“Just say yes,” she begged in a low whisper, watching as his eyes fluttered closed when she stroked over the aching head of his cock. “Take me in that shed and make me a woman.”

“Wait—“ He snapped his eyes open and halted her strokes. Becca closed her eyes as she’d realized what she’d just confessed to. “Are you…have you…you’re a—“

“Virgin? Yeah.” She sighed and pulled her hand away, crossing her bare chest with it. Frankie studied her shame-ridden face with a pang in his chest. He didn’t want her to feel ashamed, not at all, but his reasons for stopping to clarify the situation went right over her head. “Does that turn you off? Make you reconsider everything? Make you see me as a little girl like everyone else seems to?”

“No.” He spoke firmly but with care, shaking his head and furrowing his brows at her. “If this is your first time, you don’t want to do it in an old shed, querida. Trust me on that.”

“I want to do it with you wherever, I don’t care—“

“You may not, but I do.” He shook his head and stroked his knuckles across her cheek. “Becca, listen, you and I will find the right time. I promise. And when that time comes, I want it to be special for you. Not a quickie on the floor. Okay?”

“Yeah,” she sighed and nodded, shaking her head but agreeing with him against her lustful judgment. “Okay.”

“Okay, let’s go inside. We’re going to get sick if we stay out here any longer.” He chuckled and threw his arm over her shoulder, walking her out of the ocean and to their pile of clothes waiting on the sand.

The pair casually walked up to the patio, two yards apart just in case someone was watching, and snuck inside the dark house. Frankie flicked on the light to the kitchen and commanded Becca to go take a hot shower while he made her a cup of tea, only earning one groan in protest before she agreed. On her way to the bathroom, her mother came walking down the stairs, squinting as though she’d been woken up.

“Becca, baby?” She asked as she came into the light.

“Yeah, mom.” She nodded at her and watched as her mom looked around the corner at Frankie setting up the kettle.

“Where were you?” She asked, voice laced with worry.

“I went for a walk to clear my head a bit,” she lied, watching as her mother gave her a suspicious nod. “I’m just so…so stressed about my future, my career.” She put on the performance of a lifetime, watching as her mothers suspicion faded away instantly. “I just wanna make you and dad proud.”

“Oh, honey.” She pulled her in for a tight hug and kissed her temple. “We’ll be proud and support you no matter what you do in this life. Even if it’s not what we imagined for you. This life is about what you want for yourself. Not even your father and I’s opinion matters. Just yours.”

Though her mother was unaware, she’d just given Becca the permission to pursue her feelings for the man standing in the kitchen tending to her. Becca pulled away, this time genuinely on the verge of tears from her mother’s words, and nodded.

“I love you, mom.” She smiled at her and leaned forward, kissing her cheek before turning to walk off towards the bathroom, her mother heading back up to bed now that she knew her baby was safely back at home.

When Becca re-emerged from the shower, Frankie was asleep on the sofa with two cups of tea in front of him on the coffee table. She smiled at the sight of him waiting up for her, even if he fell asleep during it. Walking over to the blanket that rested on the edge of the sectional, she walked it over and laid it across his body, lingering a moment before stroking his hair back.

She was in deep.

And it was only night two.

frankie taglist: @joelmillerscoffee @ajeff855 @wildemaven @axshadows @sherala007 @browneyes-issac @tooflef @mariasabana @tae27 @kimm4710 @stxrrylunatic @sara-alonso @paulalikestuff @jbh-castaway @oceandolores @mandomover @chxpsi @auberosier @mashomasho @vanemando15 @wickedmunson @marvel-sw-lover @jediknight122 @harriedandharassed @star-wars-fan-2005 @alwaysdjarin @jalobro @trickstersp8 @mccn-bcys @manuymesut @trinkets01 @tanzthompson @jlmaddinson @hopeamarsu @fanofverymanythings @lovesbiggerthanpride @pinkything @fireproofmarta @littlenosoul @tryonmyworld @berriesarepunk @laureliciousdefinition @camishadjarin @rav3n-pascal22 @fishingforpike @rocketrhap3000 @amneris21 (please let me know if you’d like to be removed/added to future frankie content!)

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fluff #frankie morales x oc #frankie morales angst #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales fluff #frankie morales smut #frankie morales #catfish morales x reader #triple frontier fanfic

148 notes · View notes

sobeautifullyobsessed · 1 year

Text

No Place Like Home

a romantic Doctor Strange one-shot based on this prompt:

rating: general audience

pairing: Stephen Strange x Hope Collins (OFC)

genre: romance, fluff

word count: 2.3k

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Stephen had never expected to be living his best life so soon after the darkness, despair, and psychological devastation of the thousands of years he'd spent searching for the path to victory over Thanos. In the weeks following The Return, he had suffered in silence, believing it was his lot, especially as he could not forget all the lives he couldn't save, which resulted from that catastrophic battle. Only Wong had any clue as to the pain, guilt, and sleeplessness that Stephen endured, and he had tried in every way possible to alleviate it. But it was the unexpected return of the woman that Stephen had fallen in love with over the course of his lonely, agonizing journey, that had wrought the miracle that allowed him a happiness he never could have imagined. By mid-July, she had practically moved into his suite of rooms at the Sanctum, which was the sweetest sort of icing on an already delicious cake.

Of course, it wasn't a perfect life, but it was damn close. In the months since their reunion, Hope had become the most necessary part of his days (and nights), and when his work took him far from the New York Sanctum, Stephen carried a perpetual but somehow pleasant ache in his chest. It was good. Oh, so good. To not only love someone in the depths of his soul, but to know without doubting, that he was deeply and unconditionally loved in return. What more could any man hope for?

He reminded himself of this fact often as the pace of his work began to intrude upon their time together. Hope was patient and understanding, not only because of her love for him, but because it was her nature—and as one of those who'd lived in the aftermath of a world made somber by The Blip, she like so much of humanity, had learned to appreciate every new moment with the loved ones they had believed were lost forever. Still, it bothered Stephen with each missed date, each assignation cut short. And he began to wrack his brain for some solution to the problem, or at least to find a way to treat his woman to something special as a proffer of consolation.

One evening after an especially tiring day—he'd been part of a team sent to exorcise a clutch of demons infesting the Acropolis, that had been playing havoc with tourists and townspeople alike--after which he'd been required at Kamar-Taj for deliberation over assignments for freshly promoted Adepts. Hope could easily see how incredibly exhausted he was. But as Stephen had been determined not to miss another evening in her company, she simply decided to put her foot down.

"Look, you can't keep doing this, darling." He was resting his head against the sofa back, with his eyes closed, while one of her favorite sit-coms streamed on the television. Stephen only grunted, already half asleep. "This burning the candle at both ends. You're burning yourself out..."

"No, I'm fine, sweetheart. I'm just..." he yawned despite trying his best not to,"I'm just resting my eyes."

Hope snuggled a little closer, though she firmly maintained her point. "No. No, you're not. You're exhausted and you know it. And I'm afraid I'm not helping—you should be in bed this very instant."

Though his eyes remained closed, Stephen already knew the stubborn look she wore just from the tone of her voice. He hummed in his throat, and replied with a smirk, "Only if you'll come with me."

Sitting up, she gave an exasperated sigh. "I knew you were going to say that!" Hope laid her hand on his arm, "As much as I appreciate the invitation, I think it's best I spend tonight at my place. You need a full night's rest Stephen. A full night of restorative sleep. And as pleasant as sharing your bed is, we both know it's rarely...restful..."

As physically spent as he felt, Stephen couldn't help but enjoy her inuendo. He sat up to face her squarely. "I promise, for tonight anyway, all I'm gonna do is sleep." He threw in a pout he knew she couldn't resist. "Pleeeeease? I miss spending time with you, and it's not fair to you to have such a part-time boyfriend. So, I'd rather take any time we can get together, even if I'm...unconscious."

"Oh, Stephen, what am I going to do with you?"

Tenderly, he cradled Hope's cheek in his hand, watching her resolve begin to melt . "Let me hold you while I fall asleep," he insisted", And I'm certain I'll get all the rest I need."

True to his expectation, Stephen slept more soundly than he had in weeks. And he dreamt of many things; such uninterrupted REM sleep was rare for him, and his weary mind cycled through much of his recent experiences. Though he couldn't recall all of them upon awakening the next morning, one dream in particular stood out because it featured Hope. They had walked hand in hand through one of the marketplaces adjacent to Kamar-Taj, and she had been enchanted by all the sights and sounds, all the vibrant colors and rich scents and exotic flavors, that Kathmandu had to offer. She had gazed in awe at the snowcapped Himalayas and marveled as he'd pointed out Mt. Everest and shared the story of how The Ancient One had stranded him there in a bid to get him to finally tap into his mystic abilities. In the end, he and Hope had stood eagerly before the main gate to the compound, for he wished to share with her all that was important to him there. But he'd awoken before they'd been able to enter grounds.

Stephen's first impulse was to share the amazing details of his dream with Hope, but he found himself alone and given the time—mid-morning—he guessed she had already headed off to work. A supposition confirmed once he threw on his bathrobe and headed to the smaller of the Sanctum's two kitchens and found she'd left a travel mug filled with hot coffee on the counter, and a note beside it telling him a veggie omelet with a side if bacon was warming in the oven for him. And don't work too hard today, Stephen, she had added. You need to set some limits for yourself so that you don't get burnt out. If I have to, I will speak to Wong about it myself; there's no reason that some other wizard (or two or three) can't pick up the slack so that you can take better care of yourself! Or let me do that for you...

Of course, he ended up back in Kamar-Taj to teach an evening class, on Kathmandu time, and then back in Greenwich Village to oversee the monthly inventory of ancient relics. All the while, the images of that dream remained with him, softening the edges of his work day and making him long all the more for a chance to spend the kind of quality time with Hope, as he had in their dream sojourn to Kathmandu.

Only as he finalized the inventory figures, plugging them into the spreadsheet that one enterprising Adept had created to make the task easier, did Stephen realize there was nothing but taking the initiative of inviting her, keeping his dream from becoming reality. Refreshed as the very thought of sharing that very important piece of his life with her, he zipped off a text asking Hope if she wouldn't mind spending the remainder of the evening with him in the Sanctum. This was something he was looking forward to asking her in person, already sure that her spontaneous, brilliant smile and the twinkle in her remarkably blue eyes, would signal her answer in the affirmative well before she uttered 'yes'.

He had portaled them to an alleyway on the outskirts of the compound as a matter of discretion, but also because he wanted Hope to get a feel for the community and the environs surrounding the sacred grounds of Kamar-Taj. And in keeping with his dramatic nature, Stephen wanted her to experience the full reveal of the place he'd come to love best on earth, and that could only be achieved upon entering the main gate.

As he had expected, Hope was excited about this new adventure, commenting on the colorful market stalls they passed, as well as upon the wealth of green and growing things that marked the humble homes and small gardens wedged between the mish mosh of buildings that had grown up around their destination. "I've never seen such pretty little gardens growing at such close quarters," she exclaimed, "The Nepalese must have true green thumbs!"

"Ah, I was hoping you'd appreciate that," Stephen replied, and then went on to explain, "Because it's really a matter of magic..."

"You mean everyone here practices the mystic arts?"

Hope had slipped her arm through his, which in this place held a magic of its own for him. He laid his free hand atop hers and leaned a little closer, dropping his voice confidentially, "Actually, it's magic in the soil and water and air. Centuries and centuries of residual magic emanating from Kamar-Taj, which these plants have absorbed through their roots. In fact, the flowering & fruit trees and vegetable plants within the compound blossom year-round as a result, and over the years the effect has spread out from Kamar-Taj into the ground of the surrounding neighborhoods. Even those residents who are unaware of what we do here—thinking that we're a monastic order of sorts, dedicated to religious study—understand their bountiful gardens are related to their proximity...and consider themselves blessed to live this close."

"Deciduous trees, however..." he added, feeling the beat of his heart pick up its steady pace with delightful anticipation of Hope's reaction to this place that had healed him in so many ways, "...still experience the vibrant colors of fall before shedding their leaves, but they remain on the branches well into the new year–unless there comes wind and rain of hurricane proportions." With that they stood before the double doors of the intricately carved, two-story gateway. Stephen laid his palm against the thick, aged wood and spoke a single word. Reverently enough that he felt Hope lightly shiver at his side. "Shamballa." They heard a loud creak and then the doors swung open before them, allowing him to usher his woman inside.

Hope inhaled in amazement, but remained silent otherwise, as she took in vision all around her. Masters and students alike walked the clean swept cobblestones toward various buildings, while others lounged about the edges of the courtyard in small clusters of twos and threes. Stephen picked up on the soothing tinkling of chimes beneath the quiet conversations around them and the occasional decorous burst of laughter. Hope had tightened her hold on his arm as he led her forward, his goal an ancient tree of cherry blossoms that held place of pride among all the other growing things. He brought them to a stop just several feet from the low retaining wall that surrounded the tree's base.

"Oh my gosh...oh my gosh, Stephen! It's gorgeous...all of it. Gorgeous. Like something..." Hope did a slow spin, taking in the view all around, "...out of the myth of Shangri-La..."

"Not too far from it," he grinned, drinking in her reaction as though it was his own first time seeing the weathered, venerable buildings along with the verdant gardens and flowering trees, set against the glory of the pristine, snow blanketed mountain tops in the distance, beneath a spotless blue sky. "Kamar-Taj is a quiet gem in the mountains' shadows...a place to seek peace and tranquility for those blessed enough to find the path."

"If this were my home, I doubt I'd want to leave...well, at least for a very long time, anyway."

Stephen nodded. "Yes, for the longest time, it always felt more like home to me, than the New York Sanctum. When I've felt out of sorts or as though I'd lost my connection to the energy that is the basis of all magic, just returning was enough to restore me..."

"Was?" Hope wore a sly little smile, as though she already knew the answer to her simple query.

He took both of her hands, focusing his sight on their twined fingers. "Indeed. But my concept of home has changed considerably since Titan." He stepped into Hope, raising her hands to rest on his shoulders before settling his on her hips. "Home has become more than a place, sweetheart—because home for me, is now wherever you are." She blinked up at him guilelessly, moistening her lips in the prelude to a kiss. A warm, late summer breeze swirled around them, rustling the branches of the majestic cherry blossom tree, sending loosened petals fluttering artfully about them.

Hope's soft giggle enchanted him as, inevitably, petals landed on her dress and in her hair. "And it seems this place means to welcome you, sweetheart. In the prettiest way possible," he mused, reaching to brush the pretty, pink blossoms from her auburn hair.

"Wait," she asked softly, her eyes alight with the love that now sustained him in ways he'd never dared imagine could be his. "Leave them for now, Stephen. Please. I've never been kissed in a place of true magic, and it would be foolish to miss this chance like something out of a fairy tale."

Ever willing to cede to her requests, Stephen cupped her cheeks and drew her close and kissed her long and deep—not giving a second thought to the eyes around them that took note. While thinking that perhaps...someday...if they should marry, there could be no sweeter place on earth to undertake those vows. And promising himself that if there was no breeze that day, he'd be certain to stir enough of one to shower her in petals if it would please her well.

Author's Note: I'd fully meant to have Stephen be called away to duty—a meeting with Wong & the other Masters, or some such—so that when he returned at dusk, ready to apologize for missing out on their time together, he'd find Hope busy at her own work. Adding the perfect hues of pink and blue (for his robes) to her latest drawing, wherein he stood looking quite amused with petals caught in his jet black hair. In addition to a Blue Morpho butterfly alighting upon his shoulder. But I couldn't quite fit it in without disturbing the romantic ending to this piece. But please do feel free to imagine such a sight for yourselves!

Feedback/Reblogs are incredibly meaningful. Please support content creators by doing us the honor. Thank you!

tagging: @strangelock221b @aeterna-auroral-avenger @darsynia

buy me a coffee?☕

#my writing #No Place Like Home #romance #fluff #cherry blossoms #doctor strange x ofc #stephen strange x ofc #Stephen Strange #Hope Collins #Stephen Strange x Hope Collins #Doctor Strange #doctor strange fan fiction #doctor strange fanfiction #stephen strange fan fiction #stephen strange fanfiction #Strangebatch #My Eternal Muse #Benedict Cumberbqatch

50 notes · View notes

mythicalcowboyatheart · 4 months

Note

Part 4 for meat and greet idea!! (Js a concept that i thought of in case you didnt have an idea of what you wanted to do for pt 4, u can Include and exclude whatever you'd like)

Reader wakes up in the room alone again and goes downstairs to find spencer in costume and makeup again with another captive, this time tho the reader isn't scared and actually joins spencer in his activities and this excites him obviously. This could or could not lead to more "activities" if ykwim...

I love this series sm btw! I hope your day and your holidays are wonderful!

Meat and Greet part 4

An: I've had writers block for a while now and this request actually gave me motivation to write so thank you!!!! I hope you enjoy and happy new Years!!

Warnings: smut, reader kills someone murder, rape (mentioned briefly)

»»———-►»»———-►»»———-►»»———-►

After the encounter with Spencer in the basement, he and I spent more time together and I actually earned TV privileges something about me being "a good girl" as he put it. With said privileges Spencer and I had watched the entire Friday the 13th franchise.... multiple times. During one of these summer camp nightmare rewatchings I had fallen asleep on the couch in the living room.

I woke up 3:33am the clock read. I noticed Spencer wasn't sitting next to me any more, I stood up stretching and looking around the small living room. I shrug and turn off the TV leveling me inm darkness but not complete darkness, I noticed light, very little light coming from the door that lead to the basement.

I debte gotinmg down the steps but curiosity got the best of me and I opened the door and decided the stairs. I reach the bottom of the stairs i hear what i dreaded most, screams of another panicked victim.

I rounded the corner "Spencer?" I ask rubbing my eyes still not fully awake. Spencer turned and again he's wearing the wig and make-up. "Oh love did we wake you?" I walk over to him surprisingly this time not fearing him, and I hug him and press a soft kiss to Spencers lipgloss coated lips. I pull away and let my arms loosely drape around his neck. "No Hun I woke up on my own." I reasured lightly stroking his blonde wig, before I bring my hand to cup his cheek. Spencer leans into my touch. Out of the corner of my eye I see the new man tied to the chair rocking back and forth to try to Ecape. I drop my hand from Spencers face and face the man in the chair. Spencer followed my gaze and sighed. "Oh love I'm sorry but I have some business to attend...." Before he could finish his sentence I cut him off. " What did he do?" Spencer looks at me wide eyed. "Come on Spencer I'm a big girl I can handle it"

Spencer finally responded "he's a serial rapist and killer, he's hurt many women and men and their families. The world would be better without him." I noded turning to leave before a thought hit me "Spence can I do it?" I get another bewildered look out of my lovers face. "Babe come on give me the knife." I smirk putting my hands on my hips. "I love it when you call me that" Spencer smiles handing me the knife in his hand. I take it and kiss his cheek. I turn back to our guest of honor. I walk over to the captive man and lightly graze his skin with the blade.

"So you like preying on innocent people don't you?" He mumbles something but with the tape over his mouth nothing much is heard clearly. I plugged the knife deep in to his right thigh. "AWNSER ME!" I scream. The man nods his head as tears stream down his face. "Well you just sealed your fate right there buddy!" I giggle loudly. The man's eyes go wide and more muffled screams and yells are heard as I lift the knife and stab the man in the chest repeatedly until I can't hear cant hear his screams anymore. I breathe heavily and realize the wet sticky feeling of blood on my face as I collapse to the floor. I feel a hand on my shoulder and I jumped a little, oh Spencer I forgot he was there.

I look up at him. He has a wide smile on his face andhe bends down and presses hard and heated kiss to my lips. I kiss back. Spencer brakes the kiss "you did amazing my love" he kisees my lips softly this time. "Yah seems like you enjoyed watching." I smirk observing the tent in his pants. Spencer pulls his wig off and picks me up bride style and quickly makes his way to our room.

As soon as we make it to the room I'm thrown in the bed

I make quick work of my bloody shirt and pajama shorts, and Spencer dose the same with his sweat pants he was wearing. After we're both undressed Spencer is immediately kissing and biting my neck. I moan his name almost like a prayer.

I flip us so Spencer is on his back and I am straddleing his hips. I grind my wet core on his hard length. We moan in unison. I continue grinding on Spencer until I reach down and align him with my entrance. and sink down on his cock. "Fuck Spence your so big!" I moan and I begin bouncing up and down in his dick. The more I bounce the faster I move. My legs began to shake as I feel my orgasm build up. "Fuck Spence I'm gonna..." I cum all over his cock and soon after I ride out my high Spencer cums in me. I rest my head in the crook of his neck and catch my breath. Once I do I hear Spencer laugh. "What?" I ask. "Love your still covered in that guys blood." I look at Spencer and sure enough there are bloody hand prints covering his face and chest, along with his smudged make-up. I laughed and kissed him.

7 notes · View notes

the-archangel · 11 months

Text

Cyberpunk 2090

I couldn't shake the idea that I needed to know where all my boys were a few years down the line, so I went and found out!

The man leans over his balcony overlooking the neon and stench of Night City from a sanitary distance. The grey flecks in his beard put him maybe late thirties, early forties but his eyes, beautiful and gold ringed though they are, seem those of a much older man who’s endured many hard lives. He blows a steady stream of cigarette smoke down towards the moving lights below, it’s a habit he picked up pretty late in life and knows he should kick, he will one day.

He feels like he’s been waiting forever, waiting to escape from home, waiting for the good shit to finally happen, waiting to be saved, waiting for ‘the one’. Right now he’s waiting for a cab to take him to the airport so that he can get back to ‘the one’ and have him in his arms again.

He’d been against the idea at first, a new procedure that regenerated every cell in your body thereby reversing the signs of aging, it sounded suspiciously like something he’d been through himself and not enjoyed one bit and it had taken six months of constant care for him to be anything like healthy again, but Kerry had insisted he wanted it done, ever the vain (amazing, lovable, breathtaking) asshole, he booked himself into the clinic in Texas and that was that, conversation over.

Vince wanted to join him obviously, insisted in fact, but circumstances intervened as usual and after only two days in Dallas there was a call that dragged him back to the City, Mama Welles – Guadalupe – was gravely ill and asking for him. Living out your natural span with nothing added or taken away was rare in Night City, Mama had beaten the odds and died on her own terms with Vince holding tightly to her hand. Vince – he’d left V behind ten years ago when he and Kerry married – organised everything, the funeral, the ofrenda, even the sale of the bar. The Coyote had been left to him of course, but it wasn’t a responsibility he felt ready to take on, so it was in Valentino hands now, he’d still be welcome of course, but doubted he’d ever return as he left with Vik that last time.

Sitting beside his old friend as they return to Little China, Vince looks at the rain-streaked City on the other side of his window marvelling how it’s hardly changed at all in the twenty plus years he’s been here, yet he himself could not have changed more. “How long’s it been?” Vik’s rich voice stirs him from his thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“Since he’s been away?”

“Oh, nearly two weeks.”

“When’s he back?”

“Still a few more days, it all went OK but he’s not as young as he thinks he is and it’s taking a toll. Kim’s pretty worried, I’ll probably make my way back out there in the morning.”

Vik looks over at the other man, noting the dark stains under his eyes and the fine lines which seem to have appeared out of nowhere over the last week or so. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea V,” Vik being the only one who got away with still calling him that, “take some time for yourself, you’re exhausted. I’ll call the clinic in the morning, get them to spill and let you know.”

“Ugh, you might be right, feel like I could sleep for a week. OK fine, but if there’s anything wrong I’m on the next flight to Texas.”

“Course you are kid,” agrees Vik patting his shoulder.

Vik had been as good as his word and had called earlier this morning telling Vince not to panic, everything was going to be fine, but the treatment had knocked Kerry for six and he was still pretty weak and out of it – the flight had been booked before the doc had finished speaking.

Some hours later, Kim rushes out to meet Vince at the front of the clinic, “Thank God you’re here…”

Alarmed, Vince grabs the woman’s elbow and turns her towards him, “Why, shit Kim what’s happened?”

“Sheesh Vince, calm down, he’s fine, just hasn’t stopped complaining and fussing since I told him you were coming back.”

“So…he’s feeling better?”

“I think that’s fair to say, he’s got all the nurses fawning over him, he’s even got the physiotherapist bringing him coffee!”

Vince wraps Kim into a much-needed hug, “I hated being away from him, longest two weeks of my life, thanks for staying with him.”

“No need to thank me, he’s still my dad no matter what gonk things he’s done. Don’t think he’d’ve wanted you to see him like that anyway, all the tubes and machines…”

They hug a little tighter for a moment then head inside arm in arm taking the elevator to the private room on the top floor. Sterile white rooms always send a shiver through Vince and this one’s no different, so he distracts himself by focusing on the sleeping figure in the bed at the end of the room, bending to stroke his cheek and whisper, “I’m back Ker baby,” into his mainline’s ear.

A bright-blue eye groggily opens and investigates his face, “Bout fucking time, been going stir-crazy in here.” Then that (literally) million Eddie smile lights up his face, “Shit Vince it’s good to see you,” he pulls his man in by the shirt for a soft kiss, “when can we delta from this hell-hole?”

“…You mean from this billion Eddie facility with state-of-the-art equipment that you chose to come to because you’re a vain, arrogant bastard?”

Kerry closes his eye and groans, Vince rests his head on Kerry’s chest whispering profanities under his breath, only Kim looks up from the magazine she was reading, “Uncle Johnny, what’re you doing here?”

The grounds of the clinic are more like a park than a garden and Vince pushes Kerry – using a wheelchair only for effect he insists – under the canopy of the trees and takes a seat on a bench, closely followed by Kim and Johnny who’ve been following along chatting animatedly.

Johnny, it turns out, had been in Texas anyway visiting his sister’s family (his sister herself having passed away twenty years since, as had many of the people he’d once been close to) when he got a message from Ted, who he got along famously with unsurprisingly, telling him that his dad was at a facility less than ninety miles from where he was staying. Whether Ted had done it to mess with them all they’d never know – this seemed quite likely to Vince who never quite clicked with Ted – but here he was.

The relationship between the two rockers was better than it had been when Johnny had first returned to his body, it had taken years but now it could be described as cool but cordial. He and Vince still worked together, though they got on each other’s nerves a lot more than they used to, Vince had left him in charge of the club on a few occasions, it never ended well.

“So Ker, finally ran out of the blood of virgins and had to try something else? How’s that been working out for ya?” Johnny snides.

Stopping Vince from getting in Johnny’s face with a gentle but determined hand on his thigh, Kerry slaps on his best smile, “Just fine Johnny, feelin’ ten, hell twenty years younger. Maybe you should give it a go yourself, beginning to look a bit rough around the edges.”

Johnny gives his old friend a look over the top of his still ever-present shades. He looks every inch the man in his mid-fifties that he is (kind of), as much grey as black in his hair and weather-worn lines on his face, but his hazel eyes still sparkle with mischief. “If I ever get vain enough for that shit, you have my permission to shoot me in the head and put me out of my misery.”

Vince makes a mental note, he’s wanted to shoot Johnny in the head countless times over the last few years so he silently calls dibs.

Other than getting sub-dermal armour after being shot in the good shoulder over ten years ago, Johnny has resisted the urge to enhance (compromise) his body in any way. The thought of having a limb removed on purpose and replaced with tech repulses him and the idea of having his eyes replaced with Kiroshis makes him feel physically sick. No amount of cajoling by Vince to get the latest implants and enhance his skills will ever convince him and, to be fair, he gets along pretty well with what he’s got, Johnny has every intention of going the same way as Mama Welles, in bed after a natural span, give or take fifty years that don’t really count since he wasn’t technically alive.

He must admit, Kerry is looking good, glowing skin, thick silver hair, experience rather than years lining his lean face, the eyes are still wrong, but he’s kinda getting used to them, if he wants to spend his Eddies on living a couple of extra decades then why not? He’s got a lot to live for, Kim and her kids live in the City and visit pretty often, he’s on a better footing with Ted than he’s been for years, the last two volumes of him memoirs were best sellers and he’s working on the third volume and of course there’s Vince.

Over the nearly thirteen years they’ve been together, the last ten of them as husbands, the longest they’ve been apart was 17 days. Back in the late 70’s when Kerry still toured, he went on a six month long world tour leaving Vince at home running the Afterlife. They’d both agreed that it was the best idea, they’d been in each other’s pockets for the last 18 months, some breathing space would do them good and anyway the public life of a Rock star’s output was not something that Vince aspired to particularly. The first week Kerry called every night just before and just after the show excitedly regaling Vince with back stage gossip and tour goings on, the second week they were pretty much on the holo to each other for ten or more hours on any given day, after fifteen days Vince booked a flight to Japan, set off on the sixteenth day, arrived on the seventeenth day and they hadn’t been apart for more than a couple of days since, well not until two weeks ago.

Their devotion to each other was absolute. When the world found out about their relationship and V’s face was suddenly all over the sreamsheets they turned it to their advantage, Vince even getting a brief but glorious modelling career out of it, it was only cut short by the next scandal, beloved Kerry Eurodyne was marrying a merc! A hired killer! But still their devotion could not be swayed, Kerry insisted that Vince be at every appearance and interview he did so that the world could see what a sweet, kind, wonderful man he was marrying, it kind of worked, the horrifying murderer angle was dropped in favour of him being a money-grabbing gold-digger. It was about then that they gave up, refusing to be interviewed, photos only for fans, Kerry gave up promotion and touring not long afterwards, hell he could do what he wanted, he owned the label and Vince was his manager, still is.

That’s not to say that the music dried up, an album still dropped every few years, some better received than others and none as well-reviewed as his self-titled album of ’78, but the overall view was positive. Fans still clamoured for tickets to the increasingly rare small, intimate, one-off shows he occasionally did when the urge to perform could no longer be contained, though it was unlikely he would be doing any more any time soon.

“When do you need to get back?” Vince asks Johnny conversationally.

“Don’t, seen who I need to see thought I’d hang with you guys for a couple of days and fly back with you.”

Kerry and Vince exchange a look, they are really never going to be able to get rid of fucking Johnny Silverhand.

#kerry is my muse #kerry eurodyne #future fic #kerry eurodyne x male v #kerry x male v #cyberpunk kerry #cyberpunk 2077 #v cyberpunk #johnny silverhand #kerry x v #cyberpunk v #cyberpunk johnny #viktor vektor #mama welles

10 notes · View notes

terrortwinss · 1 year

Text

𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐥

Requested by anon

“Okay, okay baby cakes I need you to calm down for me.” He tried to take a deep breathe but it was nothing but shuddered gasps, so you pulled him into your chest gently rubbing his back. “Can you tell me what happen” he nodded his head sniffling.

“I was coming home from bucks place with Dallas” he started “he took me home, and I guess my ol’ man saw us hug or somethin’ cause when I walked inside he started yelling at me calling me all types of stuff. Then when I ran to my room he dragged me by my collar and socked me in the stomach.” He paused catching his breath “knocked the wind right out of me” he chuckled “then he shoved me down the flight.” He finished tears streaming down his face once again.

“Oh, baby cakes it’s okay come here” you said pulling him into your lap. “you bleeding or anything” You said feeling up and down his chest and hips. A muffled sigh left his mouth. “Did that hurt baby?” You asked lifting your hands up a bit, “Nah,it felt…nice” he replied bowin his head back in relief.

“Really?” You said narrowing your eyes and smirking “then let’s keep going, yeah?” He nodded cupping your face bring you into a gentle kiss,”tell me if I hurt you baby cakes.” He nodded again.

You and Johnny slowly moved to the floor you sitting behind him ,and him in front you carefully wiggled his pants down stoping them at his ankles leaving him in his underwear you ran your hand over the clothed erection causing a small whimper to escape his lips.

“Shh, it’s gon feel even better.”

You carefully palmed at him running your hands up his stomach and across his chest while continuing the motion earning whimpers from Johnny, you sped up causing the sensation to pool into your lover’s stomach heavy breathing now left his mouth pushing into your hand for more fiction.

“Ahhh~” a low moan left his lips as he finished in your hand.

“You okay baby cakes?” You asked sitting him up, he was still breathing heavily but he nodded his head he had a bit of a dazed look in his eyes as he tried to catch his breathe. “Imma get a hot bath goin, okay baby?” He gave a breathy “okay” while leaning up against the couch pulling up his pants.

You walked over down the hallway to the bathroom turning on the faucet to the tub making sure it’s wasn’t too hot .”Alright baby cakes, let’s get you cleaned up.” You walked about to the living room to see that the boy of your dreams was passed out on the couch curled into a ball hugging a pillow.

“Aww!” You cooed seeing the sight it was adorable you carefully picked him up he wasn’t very heavy, and took him to the bathroom where he began to wake up,”mmh-, where am I?” He said leaning into the sink as you let him go, “why, you’re with me baby no one else could ever be this gentle with ya!” You teased seein him all tensed from not knowing where he was in that moment.

“Bath time pretty face, come on!” You said feeling a tad to excited for a bit.

As you lead him to the bathroom he striped of his pants, underwear, and shirt you following him lead the both of you got in. He sat back against the bath ring with you leaning into his chest. “You know, I never thought I would meet someone like you,Johnny…” you mumbled trailing your finger up and down his arm.

“Someone that adores me like how I adore them, you’re not like the boys around here their all bark and all bite, but you… Johnny when I first met you I felt safe secure, then when we first did it.” You stopped yourself stifling a giggle. “You didn’t have a clue what you were doing I had to take the lead.”

“I’m sorry for that…” he apologized that’s all he ever did some days. “I know I’m not the best but….” He hesitated you could feel his heart picking up speed. “Since you had the lead earlier ya think I can take lead tonigh?” You turned your head to look at him you could just barely see the light blush on his dark cheeks. You giggled “course, you can baby cakes!” You chirped kissing his cheek.

After the two of you got out the bath not bothering to put on clothes yo wrapped you towel around you, you sat on the toilet awaiting Johnny’s call. “Go right ahead baby, I’m all your for the night.”

Johnny leant down to your leaves and pulled you into a gently kiss hands resting on your thighs, you opened your mouth a little and slid your tough inside his mouth drawing a small whine from him. He trailed his hand up your back undoing the towel around you before dropping it on the floor.

You pulled away from this kiss before wrapping your arms around his neck drawing him closer, “you doin’ real well so far baby~.” You praised threading your fingers in his hair. During the bath you washed the grease out to avoid any discomfort.

He lowered his kisses from you mouth to your neck nipping carefully on it, you gave a sign of satisfaction tilting your head to the side for better access. “Stand up, please..” he said dragging you up from the toilet lid, he held you to the wall, trailing butterfly kisses down you chest he went to take your breast in his hand but paused.

“Can I?” He asked looking up to you, you smiled and nodded.

He took the breast in his hand and kneaded it tracing the nipple with his palm. You gasped cupping his face and pulling him into a rough kiss you ran you hands up and down his chest getting grunts and groans from his.

Johnny carefully dragged the two of you to the floor before resting you in his lap. You looked at him his flushed cheeks and dazed smile were so cute, “you are so beautiful baby cakes, yes you are!” Your love for him only grew as his smile got bigger and bigger. You decided you were finished admiring him and rock your hips forward a bit.

“Mmm!” Johnny let out a surprised moan gripping your waist a bit you smirked continuing the motion drawing moans and whines from the both of you, “Ohhh,baby!” You cried rocking your hips one more time against your lover and the both of you finished in sync. As the two of you tried catching your breathe.

“That all you got pretty face?” You teased rubbing your nose against his, he removed you from his lap placing you on the floor hovering between your legs. Giving you a look as if asking for permission to continue, you grinned tapping his chest gently.

He slowly pushed into you, making sure he wasn’t hurt you to bad he stopped when he saw a tear leave your eye, ”I’m okay baby.” You reassured he lent down and kissed your forehead and fully pushed himself inside. He gave you time adjust to him and when you did you began to rock back and forth on his.

He slowly pulled out causing a whine to leave your lips from the empty feeling in you which was refilled when he pushed back in with a bit a force. Drawing a sudden wave of pleasure to fill your stomach, “hah~!” You moaned trying to gain more friction by grinding into him. He pulled you into a kiss before he started thrusting in and out.

“Ahh, baby! Just a little harder, please!” You begged wrapping your legs around his waist pulling him closer and deeper,

His thrust became a lot rough and it felt amazing he was groaning loudly in your ear and you were panting heavily in his. The bathroom mirror had fogged up long ago.

The panting in the bathroom picked up to a faster pace when Johnny hit that certain spot in you, you raked your nails across his back he suppressed a whine while continuing to hit your sweet spot drawing loud yelps and heavy moans to escape your mouth. As you were nearing your finish he pressed his forehead against yours and started moaning your name lowly.

“Close, baby so close” you moaned taking his face in your face you kissed him as the both of you finished Johnny slowed his movement to a halt while still looking into your eyes.

The both of you sat up after Johnny pulled out and redressed himself and you, threw short breathes you said “not to bad for your first time taking the lead, baby cakes!” You grinned kissing his cheek.

“T-thank you!” He smiled, embarrassed by the compliment and scathed the back of his neck.

“You do know you’re gonna be staying with me for a while, right?” You said giving him a small smile, he nodded. “Come on let’s go get somethin to eat.”

He walked a head of you still having small yet noticeable limp you didn’t address it he seemed a bit more cheerful and you didn’t wanna ruin it. “Later on, later..” you thought to yourself.

For now you would make sure he didn’t go back to that hell of a house.

#the outsiders #johnny cade #x reader #female!reader #ralph macchio

26 notes · View notes

simpingforthisonedeer · 1 year

Text

𝐭𝐨 𝐂𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐜𝐡 & 𝐭𝐨 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥

summary: Aika is followed by a stranger who begs for a mission that can change the course of her destiny. Salvation only comes to those that seek it.

notes: This excerpt is kinda far along in Demons Run and it’s been sitting in my drafts for a while so I’m just posting it.

Aika turned around the corner and into the dark alleyway to see if her pursuer will confront her. And almost if on cue, a haggard, white-haired man, materialized from the shadows, eyes crazed. His mouth opened to say something but he fell to all fours with a harsh gasp.

She watched curiously as the man gather himself. Is he some drunkard? That would be the most logical explanation considering he reeked of whiskey, cigarette and...devil?

“I heard you were a forbidden magic user that specialized in life and death,” he breathed.

Aika grew still. She tamped down her anger as she wracked her head for who might’ve told him that.

“What is your name?” Her voice came quietly.

He raised his head and looked at her with startling blue eyes, that shone even in the dark of the alley.

“Faust.”

Her eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hairline. He said his last name on purpose. He knew that everyone forbidden magic user in Clover Kingdom knew that name well. She was definitely listening now.

“Nacht...Faust? The last surviving son of the Faust family?” Aika knew the family well. Not personally, but she had studied them thoroughly, seeing that they are the only people in Clover Kingdom who are rumored to consort with devils and other forbidden magic practices.

His mouth curled into snarl. He didn’t need to be reminded that he was alive and his brother wasn’t.

Nacht stood and steadied himself, feeling a bit more sober and gave her a sharp nod.

“Well, Nacht, may I help you with something? Seeing as you’ve been following me all the way from Clover Castle.”

“I want your help to bring my brother back.” His dead brother? She couldn’t bring back people who were already dead and their soul had passed so long ago.

“No,” she said almost immediately.

That crazed look was back again.

“No! Please! You have to help me.” He fell to his knees again, his hands clasped together pleadingly, tears falling in twin streams down his cheeks. Aika resisted the urge to sneer. She hated people who threw all their dignity aside and prostrate themselves, especially to strangers. She was about to leave him but his next words made her pause.

“Please, I’m begging you. His soul isn’t even resting in the After. Someone like him doesn’t belong in the Underworld! You are the only necromancer who lives without any serious repercussions. Please, I’ll do anything!”

Underworld? She could definitely use this to her advantage.

Aika laid a hand on his shoulder, making him snap his eyes up to hers.

“You want to bring your brother back from the Underworld?”

Nacht nodded frantically.

“Necromancy has a lot do with life and death,” she explained as a smile grew on her face. Internally, she was shaking with excitement. If he agrees to her plan, then she is saved. No one can give her Salvation except herself. She would put him through many trials: a different country, a different name, a different life. But in the end, they would both get what they want. “But it isn’t without sacrifices. You would have to wait years, give up your life for--”

“I don’t mind...” Nacht interrupted. “If I die...”

She rolled her eyes. Now, that was way too dramatic.

“You’re not going to die if you do this right. The point is to live and enjoy your life with your brother.”

He moved quickly and clasped her forearms, his eyes wide with hopeful desperation.

“You have a plan?!”

“Yes, now please unhand me.” Nacht let go as if he was burned and took a step back. “I’ll need you to sober up, gather your essentials and meet up with me at the church in Hage Village in a week from now. Have you ever been to college?”

Nacht was listening attentively but the last question caught him off guard.

“I-No?”

“Oh.” Aika touched her chin pensively. “Then, this will be a new experience for you then...” She thought out loud to herself. “Don’t worry I’ll send you to my alma mater. I’ll make sure they treat you right.”

He cocked his head at her in confusion.

“Clover University?”

“No,” she looked up at him and smiled thinly. “Spade Nation War College.”

Nacht opened his mouth to throw a slew of questions at her but she raised a halting hand.

“I will answer all your questions in a week, but only if you are prepared to do anything to bring your brother back. Sober up, think on this, and if you show up at that church, there’s no going back, understood?”

He stared hard at the dirty alley floor between them and slowly clenched his fist. Nacht needed to know something before he made up his mind.

“How sure are you that this is going to work?”

“Ninety percent sure.”

“And if this plan fails?”

“Then ninety percent of the world dies.” He shot her an alarmed look. “But that won’t happen as long as you do what you are told.”

Aika stared him down nonchalantly as he looked at her in disbelief.

“You have a week to make up your mind,” she adjusted her leather gloves. “And if there’s nothing else, then it was a pleasure to meet you, Nacht.”

He could tell that he was dismissed. His shoulders fell and he closed his eyes for a moment before he began to fall into the floor, into his own shadows. Just before his head disappeared, his eyes flew wide open and met her’s with a fierce resolve.

Aika relaxed. She need not worry.

Nacht Faust was definitely going to come to that church.

She took a deep breath. She wasn’t done yet because he wasn’t the only person who pursued her tonight.

“You can come out now...Julius.”

A hooded man man dropped from the sky and landed noiselessly behind her, blocking the way out of the alley. The cloak fell, revealing the cold, expressionless face of the 28th Wizard King.

“Even if it is actually in good faith, I can’t let you proceed if this ‘plan’ really does have a 10 percent margin to fail and kill nearly everyone.”

Aika hadn’t lied to the stranger but she was sad that she has to lie to someone she was growing to like a lot.

“I lied to him. No one is going to die,” She assured him with a smile. “I just needed to be sure of his resolve before I trust him to come through.”

“I...won’t say I don’t trust you--”

“But that is exactly what you’re going to say.”

“No. I want Nacht to also bring any information he can on the movements of the Dark Triad.”

“That’s definitely doable.”

“Wh--Really?” That was so easy? Julius felt like it shouldn’t be.

“Absolutely. I still haven’t figured out all the logistics of the plan because I just came up with it,” Aika took his hand and brought it up to her face. “I am happy to include you in it if you want.” She kissed his knuckles.

Julius smiled down at her. He lived a life where nearly everyone disagreed with him on a daily basis. It was their job but he couldn’t help but be used to that. But Aika was someone who understood him on nearly everything. Even if she disagreed, she saw his viewpoint. Someone who stood next to him, someone who understood him. Yes, that was her.

He felt his heart race.

“Thank you.”

#black clover #black clover fanfiction #black clover fanfic #nacht faust #oc: aika tolliver #julius novachrono #Julius & Aika #julius novachrono x reader #julius novachrono x oc #demons run fic stuff

20 notes · View notes