#shattered just being thrust into this new world that reminds him so much of his own world | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sukirichi · 3 years

Text

reckless [01.]

With a lackadaisical playboy as your boss, being reckless wasn’t an option. But on the one time you let loose and made mistakes, your life is shattered, and now you’re playing house with your insufferable boss who is the father of your baby.

✘ cw. explicit smut, accidental pregnancy, playboy! gojo, slight angst

✘ note. dedicated to wifey @7tsumurai who also made the banner and always supports me and showers me with love aaaa i love you baby <3 also this fic is mostly romance and fluff so i hope you enjoy this as much as i did writing it! thank you to @chosonore for pr-ing UWU. and we get like...10-15 chapters of this?!

one ✘ two ✘ three

You shouldn’t be doing this.

The night was young; streaks of gold flashing with the shimmering jewellery collared on your neck, the romantic humming of the violins pairing perfectly with the champagne that fizzed in your hand. It was supposed to be another day at work where you accompanied your boss to one of his events, considering the Casanova refused to bring his girlfriends in fear they might get the wrong idea he liked them outside the bed. It should be just another day at work; you’ve accompanied him hundreds of times before. Today wasn’t any different.

And yet it was.

You blamed it on the alcohol. On the slow dancing. On the fact he hadn’t stopped complimenting you all night and you’d been so stressed, the amount of planning and sleepless nights sacrificed in exchange of preparing for this event made you grab for three more flutes, the touch of your undeniable attractive boss permanent on your waist.

Satoru was equally aggravated. You’d worked him long enough to recognize even the smallest of cues, and the fact you’d spend nearly every hour of the day working with him for weeks straight in the office let you know he needed to let off some steam.

And what better way to relieve both of your tensions if not to give in to the cloud of lust?

The sultry gazes, the clashing perfumes between rose and musk, and the alcohol – the fucking alcohol – that gave way to you succumbing to your desire just this once.

There were no more thoughts – or if there were, they were muddled – as you kissed him back just as passionately, forgetting the fact his stylist spent an hour gelling his hair back to perfection as your eager fingers traced over his scalp. How you ended up in the back of limousine was beyond you, and neither was it your biggest concern when Satoru insisted you kept your heels on; his large hands caressing all the way from the ankle pressed beside his waist up to your waist.

You felt his daft fingers move the lacy thong you wore especially for tonight (not because you expected something, but the boost in confidence felt necessary) before he slides inside almost too easily.

Both your gasps and moans are swallowed in the stuffy compartment, windows fogged saved for the handprint you’d left when he hit a sensitive spot. He was moaning in your neck, skin slippery and sweaty as you slid from one another, seemingly never staying from one place as your hands treaded through his hair down to rake your nails on his back; his touch angry on your hips before his thumb found home in your clit.

As much as you hated him, hated his reputation, you couldn’t deny he really earned his title for being an absolute god in sex. You were no virgin, but you’d never felt this good, never felt this alive as bruises began to form in your skin and his lips hungrily sought out yours.

“S-Sir...”

“Satoru,” he corrected through your lips, the kiss barely even one when you were too busy moaning left and right. Satoru hitched your leg up to fold it right beside your waist, allowing him to explore deeper territories that not even you could mark.

His stare on you is perverted; openly wanton as he lets his empyrean gaze snake down to where your bodies connected. It was embarrassing to be this spread wide open for him, though it didn’t matter much, not when you clutched onto his bicep for dear life and panted breathlessly. He was kissing you everywhere – smearing your lipstick all over your lips and his, a stain of red on his hard, white collar and love bites marked deep into your collarbones and under your breasts. You tightened around him once he changed his rhythm into a more sensual one; the quick pace replaced with him pulling out slowly – inch by delicious inch until you felt empty with each growing second – before slamming back inside with fervidity that he never quite possessed behind his desk.

He groaned at your walls clenching down on him, his hips stuttering in the process. “Call me Satoru.”

“Satoru,” you moaned out, and his next sounds were pained. Pained because you sounded too gorgeous, felt too good, and with you following his hips thrust by thrust, neither of you would last any longer. Not even as you shake your head, lips swollen as you remind him, “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“We shouldn’t,” he agreed with a curled lip, sweat beading from the streaks of his white hair. “But I want you – god, you’re so beautiful tonight. Need to fuck you good—”

Gojo Satoru, one of the most eligible bachelors in the entire South East Asia and ranked as the second richest man in his early twenties, was a man of his word despite his reputation. Just as he was praised and fawned over for his beauty, charisma, and power, he was equally hated for breaking the hearts of women and treating his past ‘lovers’ like they were objects. The news were so confident of it; that he fooled them, played around with them, but behind the scenes, you knew Satoru wouldn’t do such a thing – from the first time he laid his eyes on someone, he made it extremely clear they were not to be attached. Everything with him was physical and sensual – anything beyond that would simply be out of character.

You weren’t surprised that he really did keep his word and fuck you good, because you couldn’t feel your legs the next morning and even though it had been hours, you still very much felt the shape of him carve through you.

The bastard wouldn’t stop laughing, of course, snickering under his breath every now and then each time he saw you grimace from doing simple things such as standing up and giving him the files he asked for. Perhaps it was because your dislike for him was apparent that Satoru quickly went back to fooling around, pretending you didn’t exist and only approaching you when need be. There were still moments you had to clean his mess up for him; taking his drunken phone calls at 3am because he got wasted in a bar, or doing the same for his current sex buddy who he didn’t want to stay in his home.

He was terrible, terribly awful that you despised this part of him.

You were only grateful enough that neither of you brought that night up ever again, for no matter how immensely hellish of an experience it had been, it was also something you’d really rather not be reminded of.

But now, there was no more running away from it. The truth stared at you blatantly in the form of two white lines that had appeared four times already from previous tests.

You were pregnant.

The world had never been that heavy on you. You had a rough upbringing, but it was a household filled with love and patience that it was innate in your nature to keep strong, be levelled, continue moving forward even during the times it felt like everyone and everything was going against you. You’d been through so much worse and you can do this, but you still couldn’t stop the tears that pushed from your eyes, your heart shattering the same time you dropped the stick.

“No, we won’t cry, it’s okay. I can handle this – I’m strong,” you repeated to yourself like a mantra, taking deep breaths to stabilize yourself. Clearly, this was unexpected, but you wanted to do your best, had to do your best. You didn’t have time to lose your composure, so you quickly fished your phone out your purse to dial the person you trusted the most.

“Rei...?”

Your best friend picked up on the second dial. “Sweetheart, where have you been?! I’ve been calling you for like hours now and you’re not picking up, I heard you called in sick for work and you never do that even when you’re about to pass out!” Some shuffling could be heard from the background before she spoke again, her tone a lot more gentle in response to your muted sniffles. “Is there something going on? Do you need me to drop by there right now? Tell me what you need; I’ll be there right away.”

“No, no, Rei, it’s fine, I just...”

“Sweetie,” she sighed, “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

You nodded even though she couldn’t see it. Rei had been there for you in everything, starting from when you newly arrived in the city; fresh-eyed and hopeful for new opportunities. She’d been there when you first complained your boss was a creepy flirt, all the way until you’d made peace with said boss and remained firm in your boundaries. But those boundaries had clearly been crossed – no, rather, you erased those boundaries. You were drunk enough to give in to the need to be touched, but sober enough to consent to everything that happened. You couldn’t place this all on him.

“I’m pregnant,” you said eventually, voice barely above a whisper as you added, “And Satoru’s the father.”

Rei stopped munching on her – you assume – bagel.

“Satoru? Gojo Satoru, your boss, bonafide casanova, the face on billboards and one of the most “eligible” bachelors in the country, billionaire Gojo Satoru?” she let out in one breath, the image of her flipping her hand out in the air in disbelief as clear as day. “Am I really hearing this right? I’m not going crazy, am I?”

You sighed.

“We were drunk. I slept with him.”

“Did that bastard force himself on you?”

“No, gosh, never,” you defended with widened eyes, sitting back down on the toilet with the lid now closed. You couldn’t look at the tests even if you dared yourself to, the plastic bag concealed in the garbage or else you’d feel sick all over again. “I-I wanted it too...we just got carried away and the night was just...I don’t know. I don’t know what came over me and why I did that, but there’s no point in fretting about it because I’m carrying his baby now.”

“Well,” she started unsurely, “What are you going to do?”

“I’m keeping it. There’s no way I would even consider abortion.”

“But what about him?”

The back of your head throbbed in pain. Just thinking about his stupidly handsome face made you want to throw up once more. “I don’t really want to tell him, but he has a right to know that he’s going to be a father.”

“Will he even take responsibility for it?”

You swallowed nervously, nibbling on your thumbnails before snatching your hand away. Composure was something you didn’t struggle with; you were the more reliable one in the duo of you and Satoru, but you had a bad habit of picking on your nails whenever you were anxious. Had it not been for Satoru flicking your nails away from your mouth each time you dazed out a little bit, you would’ve never gotten rid of the habit, but it all came crashing back down on you in an instant.

A heavy knot formed in your belly.

“Most likely not, I know how he’s like. He loves his single life so much that he’d never allow to be tied down like this. I wouldn’t even be surprised if he tells me he doesn’t want it.”

“What an asshole!”

“Yeah, he is, but I don’t need him in my life,” you reinstated, finally feeling more confident the longer you talked to Rei. She was your instant hype machine in more ways than one; her presence itself gave you the reassurance you could handle everything your way. With hope blooming in your chest, you picked yourself of the toilet and wiped away your tears. You could do this – you can handle this. Not just for you, but this baby growing in you as well.

“In our life. I’m more than capable of taking care of the baby myself,” you told her, gaze hard and determined as your sunken reflection stared back at you in the mirror. Sighing, you shook your head and pictured Satoru’s face, already picturing a thousand ways this could go wrong. Only one way to find out.

“I have to go now. He needs to hear about this and then I’ll resign. Probably move back home – anywhere that’s away from him.”

“Doesn’t the baby deserve to meet their dad?”

“Their dad doesn’t even want to be one,” you muttered bitterly and threw your sweater back on, refusing to kick yourself around any harder. Now wasn’t the time to be illogical; you were now a mother and had to be responsible now more than ever. But first, you needed some well-deserved rest after endless agonizing of missing your period, along with the baby drop that until now, had shook you to your core. “I’ll call you back, Rei. I’m very tired.”

“You let me know if you need anything, okay?” Humming in response, you ended the call and crawled back to bed.

It wasn’t that you felt lonely, but you didn’t feel particularly belonging anywhere. You were far from home in a city that felt like the future, and each day you come home, it was mostly just a place to rest before you went back to work the next day. It was a dull, empty routine that you’d gotten used to, but never had it sunk deep into you that you did felt completely hollow.

But not anymore.

You were with your baby now, and as much as it scared you shitless to be a mother with zero preparation and knowledge, you were confident things were going to be okay.

Wrapping an arm around your belly, you had the best sleep you’d had in years.

You’d just have to worry about tomorrow. Hopefully, and you quite prayed harder than you ever did before, Satoru would let you go and keep things less complicated than it already was.

“No,” Satoru shook his head, his words dropping like a heavy boulder in the middle of nowhere. You stood in front of him shock still, hands wrung solid beneath your belly. Satoru merely shook his head, brushing back his gelled hair with a dry laugh. “No, what are you even thinking? You’re not resigning.”

You pursed your lips. “I wasn’t really asking for permission, Sir.”

Truth be told, you expected this sort of reaction from him. It may be true that you and Satoru never got along in personal levels since he was too crass and you much stiff, but it couldn’t be denied you worked well together. You balanced each other’s flaws and brought out the best in one another. If someone had asked you years ago prior to you being employed by the heir if you could even tame the renowned free spirited man, you would’ve said probably not, but after sharing struggles and quite literally forcing one another to do better, you both reached highs neither expected to achieve.

It was an experience and a whole lot lessons learned working with him.

Unfortunately, all things must come to an end, and you had to leave even if Satoru negated to it.

“We’ve been working together for years. Do you know how many people I fired and have resigned all because they’re not equipped for the job?” he plopped down atop his desk, loosening his tie out of frustration. The simple gesture made you swallow and look away – it felt impossible to look at him any other way than a boss now that you had his baby inside you. Thankfully, Satoru was mouthy as usual that he pulled you back from your train of thoughts as he gestured between the both of you. “You and I are perfectly compatible – I can’t let you go like that. I’m sorry, but I need you. There’s no one else I can work with this functionally. No one else is as willing to tolerate my bullshit except you and...I need you to stay.”

You clenched your teeth at the desperation in his voice.

Satoru admitting he needed people was one thing. But him asking others to stay? It may have just been for your value as the only person who had put up with him in both his best and worst times that made him feel that way, but you had to keep your foot down on the ground.

You wouldn’t let him sway you like this.

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes and willed all your energy to spring forth. “Sir...I’m more than thankful for all the opportunities, it truly was a pleasure working with you but—”

“Is this because we slept together?” he cut you off, your shoulders tensing. Upon your silence, Satoru heaved himself away from the desk and took cautious step towards you, stopping a foot away when you stepped back defensively.

You almost wished you didn’t know him so well. His eyes shone with a flicker of hurt before he masked it just as quick as it had came – for Gojo Satoru was a master of many things, and a great actor was one of them. Cautious, you had to be cautious, and you clenched your fists behind your pencil skirt as you tore your gaze away from his pleading ones. “It is, isn’t it?” he affirmed with a clear of his throat, looking just as lost as you did. Satoru stuttered for a minute before he eventually composed himself, but even then, he didn’t sound half as sure as he wanted to be.

“Listen, whatever happened that night, we can forget about it if you want. We’re both adults and professionals – we can put this aside us and just go back to normal. You don’t have feelings for me, right? So then it shouldn’t be a big deal.”

“Satoru...it’s not like that.”

“Then what is it?” he demanded, aggravated. Satoru began to round his desk and pulling out little white envelopes, stacking them before you in a haste. “Do you want a pay raise? A new car so you could get to work easily? O-or perhaps a bigger house where you can work more comfortably, somewhere nearer to the office? All you have to do is tell me and I’ll give you what you want. There’s no need for you to resign, this company has given you everything and we’ve got so much offer just as you could still be great—”

“I’m pregnant.”

Satoru’s slender fingers halted around the pen hovering over a cheque slip. “What?”

“I said I’m pregnant,” you exhaled, biting down on your bottom lip to prevent yourself from quivering. A quick sweep from your face to gather sincerity trailed down to your belly, staring at you hard enough as if he had the ability to look through your soul. “And you’re the father.”

“Is that true? Is...is it really mine?”

“Yes sir,” you nodded, “I’m not telling you this because I expect that you’ll be responsible for it. No offense, sir, but I’d really rather raise the baby alone. Plus, I understand that you’ll never settle down or suddenly abandon your old ways just to—”

“Stop right there,” he raised a palm, “You mean to tell me you’re resigning because you thought I wouldn’t take responsibility for it? For you?”

The hurt in his voice and expressions were evident, lip curled in disgust; not for you, but rather of himself. Satoru was the type of man that couldn’t be withered down even with the harshest of rumours; you’d never seen him be affected before by tabloids and nasty ex-girlfriends who only slept with him for money or fame, only to talk smack about him afterwards. But now, he was crumbling before you, and you didn’t know quite what to say or feel over the vulnerability present in his cerulean eyes. It almost pained you know that you caused this – for the comforting, blue sky to be tainted with a thunderstorm that hinted of anger, of disappointment, of betrayal.

But could he blame you for not thinking the best of him?

“I’ve worked with you for years, sir, I know you.”

“Clearly not well enough,” he chuckled sarcastically, “Admittedly, I’m surprised, but not upset. The only thing that I’m upset about is that you actually believed it would be better to raise the baby – our baby – alone like I don’t even have a right to be in their life. Sure, it was an accident, but we made that. That’s our child and I’m going to take care of you and be a great father, even if you don’t think I’m capable of it.”

“Sir, I didn’t mean—”

“That’s the first time you said something stupid. That’s our baby. We’re a family now,” Satoru’s hesitance had vanished into thin air as he was on you the next instant, hands shaky before they landed on your shoulders. It was meant to be a comforting gesture; a reassuring one, yet you couldn’t help but flinch and falter under his gaze. As if getting the message, he quickly retracted his hands and shoved them deep inside his pockets with a sigh. “You don’t need to resign or worry about anything else. I promise I’ll give you both the life you deserve, just...just please don’t go. Now that I know we have a baby, there’s just no way I can let go of this and pretend I never heard of this at all.”

You swallowed, rubbing your sweaty palms on your skirt.

Out of all the different scenarios you stayed up late at night to turning your head in one by one, none of them included this. Undeniably, he was an asshole to most, but maybe he was right.

He hadn’t done anything wrong to you and he was still the father of your baby; he deserved a chance. Satoru had the right to be the father he was willing to be. You could already tell this might completely turn into one big mess, but his eyes were so hopeful, his smile so nervous yet expectant that you couldn’t help but say –

“Okay,” you relented.

His reaction was instantaneous. Satoru beamed and lounged at you, arms wide open for an embrace before realizing at the last second you could stab him with a pen and not regret it. One warning glare sent his way and he was retracing his arm behind his head, pretending to stretch with an off-tune whistle.

The sudden switch between pained and enthusiastic gave you whiplash, but you really shouldn’t be surprised. This was Gojo Satoru in the first place – he was as unpredictable as nothing was permanent and lasting to him.

It could be both a blessing and a curse.

For the sake of your baby, you genuinely hoped it was the former.

Not wanting him to get too ahead of himself since you still didn’t trust him enough, you raised a finger to poke him in the chest. Right now, you were no longer his secretary that openly despised him but added six sugar cubes in his coffee just as he liked anyway, but rather a woman who shared this mess with him, and as the mother of his child. You had to be strong. Being with Satoru felt like playing with fire, and you had far too much at stake – both of you did – but you weren’t privileged and fortunate like Satoru. One bad thing thrown his way could be brushed off, but for you? Everything you worked hard for could disappear just like that.

If you really chose now to play with fire, you had to be careful not to be the gasoline that ignited things to burn down into ashes.

“Satoru,” you stressed with your lips pressed into a thin line, “The only thing I expect from you is to be is a good father to our child. I know that it would be difficult for you to be a new person in a day and that your old habits won’t die right away, so please do what you can to be a good parent, and I’ll be with you every step of the way. I promise you don’t have to worry about me getting in the way of your life as well.”

His smile slowly vanished.

“Is that how low you really think of me?” he echoed rather sadly, “That I would still sleep around knowing I’ve got a family now?”

“We’re not a family, Sir. I have no intentions of marrying you nor would I ever want it. I’m just staying for the baby.”

“Fine. For the baby, let’s both do our best,” he crossed his arms on his chest, pumping out the hard muscles from how tight his shirt was. You were stuck between wanting to slap him or be closer to him; the hormones too much of a mess that you had to grip your thigh for restraint. “But tomorrow, you’re moving in with me. I’m going to take care of you from now on – I’ll get you whatever you need so whatever it is, just tell me. My credit card is yours to use as well.”

Move in with him? You wanted to laugh. That was the last thing you would want to happen.

“Sir, it’s fine, I’m capable of taking care of myself.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t, but I want to take care of you both,” he reiterated, growing slightly annoyed from your rigidness. You professed that you were being difficult right now, but it was much better than being easy around someone like him.

“We don’t have to be friends or lovers, alright? I know you don’t see me that way and I’m probably repulsive in your eyes – which is understandable since you always clean my mess up for me – but as a father, at least, let me do my job. There doesn’t have to be anything between us other than a mutual want to be good parents. Is that alright with you?”

You mulled the thought over in your head. So he was capable of being sensible sometimes, and after a few moments of silence, you narrowed your eyes at him.

Still suspicious and your guard was most definitely still up, but he was right. You both had a mutual want to be good parents and that was the most important thing right now. Everything else that complicated matters would be handled afterwards.

“I’m okay with that, but I would have to set down lots of boundaries if I’m living with you.”

“So you’ll really stay with me then?” You regretted nodding in response because Satoru was now fishing his phone out, a goofy smile on his face.

He took the news...surprisingly well, and you didn’t know what to make of it.

“Perfect! I’ll have your room prepared!” You tried to grab his arm to stop him from going overboard; knowing full well Satoru always had rushes in which he impulsively overdoes things. He might turn your room into some sort of grand suite that you wouldn’t really like, but he was far too excited and lost in his own thoughts that your words went from one ear and out the other. “Fuck,” he laughed to himself, “I’m going to be a dad.”

Whether it was relief or anxiety that bubbled through you, you had no idea.

It was definitely anxiety.

Satoru felt like a hyper child to be around, and as much as you were grateful that he was happy about this, you also wished he would calm down. You didn’t even have enough chance to settle in before he’s shoving you inside room by room, announcing that what was his was also yours and he would have a baby room set up next week.

You followed him around like a puppy as he marched into the kitchen, mumbling incoherently to himself about baby proofing furniture.

“Sir,” you called out, “Sir, listen to me. We need to talk about boundaries.”

Satoru blinked owlishly at your tired eyes, sheepishly smiling at you. It must’ve dawned on him that his speed tour of his penthouse felt a lot more overwhelming than welcoming, and he sat you down on the island stools before drumming his fingers impatiently on the cool marble. “Sorry, you were saying? I kind of got carried away.”

Carried away was far an understatement.

“I said, we need to talk about boundaries.”

“Oh, yeah, right,” he paused with a furrow in his brow. “Also can you just call me Satoru? We’re going to be parents anyway and it’s awkward if you keep uh, calling me Sir.”

“Fine,” you rolled your eyes, not really in the mood to argue with him right now. You had to keep intact with him while you still had his full attention. Taking out a little notepad you prepared the night before, you slid it over Satoru who tilted his head to the side rather cutely to read it. “So here are my boundaries. One, I don’t want this pregnancy to be announced in the media unless I’m ready. I understand that we can’t keep this a secret forever but I need time to process this. Two, just because we’re living in the same roof together doesn’t mean that I get to go anywhere and everywhere with you. I’m going to work by myself—”

“No.”

“What do you mean no?”

“I said no,” he repeated more firmly this time. “You’re pregnant and I want to make sure you’re safe at all times. I’m driving you to work.”

“Didn’t you just hear what I said? I don’t want to be seen with you.”

“You’re my secretary. People see us together all the time.”

“But you never drove me to work! I live far from the office and I most definitely don’t drive an Audi.”

“Things change, that’s your life now,” Satoru shrugged nonchalantly, stealing the pen you twirled in your hands. The sudden contact sent jolts of electricity from your knuckles, one that had you recanting your hands back to yourself. Satoru didn’t seem to notice as he crosses out the second rule, “Sorry not sorry but I don’t want to let you go places like that. Fine by me if you don’t want me to drive you, but at least have one of the chauffeurs take you somewhere if you really don’t wanna be seen with me.”

“Fine,” you gritted your teeth. Compromise, compromise, meet in the middle – you repeated to yourself to keep your sanity. “Rule number three: I don’t want you changing your attitude around me. We may have a baby on the way, but you’re still my boss and I want to keep our relationship professional.”

“You’re saying I’m not allowed to fall in love with you?”

You flicked his forehead, effectively erasing the teasing grin he wore. “That’s not going to happen,” you interjected irritably, although your heart skip a beat. That was a massive red flag already; you could never be too comfortable with him. For Satoru, his little comments here and there may come naturally and probably meant nothing to him, but there was a chance you could receive it with different interpretations. Shaking your head at him, you ignored his grumblings on how ‘mean’ you were. “We’re never going to be a couple. We’re just raising a child together. I don’t want you acting weird or too comfortable with me.”

Satoru scratched the side of his head as he mulled about it, “Are we allowed to be friends, at least? I understand the professional part, but I can’t imagine the both of us getting along for nine months and more when we act like boss and employee even alone at home,” before you could say anything, Satoru raised his hands in surrender. “I promise I won’t do anything weird to you. No offense, but you’re not really my type, so same as you, I view you platonically.”

Right. The heart surely was stupid and confusing.

You didn’t want him getting any ideas that this could lead to something more, but at the same time, it hurt a little to know you weren’t his type.

Hiding that pang of hurt behind a tight lipped smile, you forced yourself to agree with him. “I view you professionally, Sir.”

“Satoru.”

“Whatever,” you grumbled. “Rule number four: don’t bring home any of your fuck buddies or flavour of the night. I really don’t care if you sleep around, but respect my privacy and my standing as the mother of your childIf you’re really desperate to get your dick wet, go fuck them somewhere else.”

“You’ve never been this vulgar with me.”

He wasn’t wrong about that. Despite countless of times that he tried being friendly with you to ease your stiffness in the office, you always shot him down.

You came to the city to work and provide for your family, not to be friends with your annoyingly hot boss who enjoyed his life way too much. Unlike him, you were more work than play, and eventually Satoru respected the fact you would never speak or treat him casually.

Until now.

“Try being in my shoes and see if you’d still have the patience of a saint,” you mumbled under your breath, sighing when Satoru’s smile got more awkward. “Listen, Satoru, I don’t mean to be difficult, okay? It’s just...this is a lot. This isn’t just us about anymore – we’re going to be parents and that’s a huge responsibility. It’s not only our lives changing here, a child will be relying on us in the future and I simply want to be a good mother, but I also don’t trust you very well to be comfortable enough to act like we’re suddenly friends.”

“I understand that.”

“Good.”

“Do you have rule number five?”

“No, not really, but I can add more as we go.”

“I have a rule number five,” he piped in, flipping the notepad his way as he scribbled something down. “And it’s that if you need help – and I mean with anything – you would let me help you. I’ve worked with you for a long time and I’m not dumb enough to not notice you like to do things by yourself. Like you said, things are different now, and especially with this pregnancy, you’re not alone in this. You need to let me take over the wheel sometimes. I can’t be just a passenger in the car – you and I are both in this together.”

“Just keep your hands to yourself.”

“That’s easy,” he chirped, and there was that uncomfortable knot in your chest again. However, it didn’t sink in too deep because Satoru was blatantly staring at your belly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “So do we have a name for them already?”

“Satoru, I’ve only been a few weeks pregnant, I don’t—”

Conflicting his previous statement that he’d keep his hands to himself, Satoru suddenly dropped to his knees. You watched with wide eyes, too flabbergasted to move as he places his ear on your belly.

“Hi there, little one,” he spoke in a soft tone, large hands caressing the tiny bump beginning to form. You couldn’t move; hell, you could barely breathe from how comforting his touch seemed in contrast to your mind ringing warning bells above. His voice quickly pulled you back to reality as he flattened his palm, white lashes fluttering against the cotton of your shirt. “I’m your daddy; I can’t wait to meet you. Daddy promises to take good care of you and make you the happiest kid ever, alright? You don’t have to worry about anything as long as I’m here.”

“D-don’t spoil them too much, Satoru.”

“I’ll try not to,” he chuckled. Satisfied with that small moment he had, he straightened up and trudged over the dining table that was far too big for a man who lived alone. In that moment, an image flashed in your mind – that someday that table would no longer look empty as you and your child shared meals with him. You could already imagine how heavenly the sun would shine on the glass windows behind it, the flowers gathered in the middle of the table blooming to life.

Out of nowhere, it struck you.

Could it be that this was why he loved this baby so much after only knowing about it for a few days? Could it be that Satoru really was alone?

“Okay, we should probably have a welcoming dinner! The chefs left me something tonight. I forgot what it’s called but I think you’ll like it. Grab some wine on the cellar for me?”

“Satoru, I’m pregnant.”

“Oh, right! My bad,” he clapped his hands together before pulling out ceramics and a cold pitcher, “Just water for mommy then,” Satoru said absentmindedly, completely oblivious to how your mind short-circuited a few feet away from him. He went about his way ignorant to it all and gently tugged you to sit with him, eagerly digging into the heated meals as you realized both of you hadn’t eaten.

For a guy who talked a lot, dinner with him was surprisingly quiet. Other than the occasional clinking of utensils against the plate, you enjoyed the silence with him.

You wouldn’t have believed it to be possible since Satoru made it his daily business to always fill in the gaps. Peace and comfort stretched before you the whole time, however, that for a moment, just a short moment, you found yourself letting your guard down. Even when you both caught each other’s in the middle of a bite, you found no tension or awkwardness in it. Perhaps it was the familiarity of being beside each other for years now that this should feel natural, or maybe it was because you both mutually agreed on wanting the best for your baby. Whatever it was, you didn’t want to overcomplicate it right now.

“You know, I’m really excited about this. I can’t believe I’m actually going to be a father,” he mused through a bite, swirling his red wine through his glass. Satoru gazed at his reflection almost dreamily, seemingly too deep in thought that he felt far from reach.

Or maybe you were the one who was detached, the one who kept pushing him away, because you could offer him nothing but a lame nod. “I’m glad to hear that...”

“What about you? You don’t look too happy.”

Your eyes widened at his worry. “No, I-I’m happy, of course. It’s just...it’s unplanned, and I’ve had my whole life planned out that I’m not really sure how this will all fall into place together.”

“Hey,” he laced his fingers with yours, squeezing warmth back into your skin that you hadn’t noticed turned cold from the nerves. Unlike his usual self with eyes brimming with glee, you could only see tenderness in him now, some sort of silent vow through a private smile shared only between the two of you in that moment in the solace of his home. Your home. “I promise I’ll be there for you and the baby every step of the way. I know that I haven’t had the best reputation and I have zero idea on parenting, but you’re not alone in this. You can trust me on this one, just like how we always trusted each other during work. Being a parent and running a business are both responsibilities right?”

“Yeah...”

“Well then you already know we work well together. We’re great partners!” he cheered, patting your shoulder way too bro-like. You resisted the urge to cringe. “We’ll be great parents, Y/N. I’m sure of that.”

Unsure of what else to do, you squeezed his hand back. He was right, you would be great parents as long as both of you never gave up. The thought of eating meals with him again with another addition to the table made you smile, and you hadn’t noticed you were spacing out, thumb running over his knuckles that were smooth for a man who never knew a day of hard labour. It wasn’t until you felt something prodding at you metaphorically, and you chuckled nervously as you saw Satoru smiling mysteriously at you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing,” he grinned, “I’ve just never seen you this close before; not so much that I paid attention anyway. But this is nice – having you here, I mean. It gets lonely here sometimes.”

“Don’t you bring your girlfriends around?”

“I never make them stay,” was all he said, and just like that, whatever thread that was beginning to form snapped. Satoru released his hold on you and gestured to your plate, carrying the dishes in his hand before leaving you alone on the table. Like always – a whiplash. “I’ll clean up, you can rest in your room now. I’ll take care of the dishes.”

“Do you even know how to do them?”

“Yeah, my mother forced me to wash dishes because she didn’t want me to rely on the house help too much,” he informed, the new information shocking you right to the core as he put on dishwashing gloves and started scrubbing. From this angle, he sure looked damn nice and domestic in just a white shirt, hair ruffled down to bangs. “I’ll be right there with you,” Satoru announces casually, spinning on his heel with red cheeks once he realized what he said. “For just a goodnight, I mean! We’re not sharing rooms!”

“Yeah, no,” you coughed out, “We’re definitely not.”

It felt…surreal, to wake up in a room much grandiose than yours yet felt like home even for the first night. Satoru handled your moving in rather happily; you found him singing to himself this morning as he brewed his own coffee before realizing you were right behind him, sleepy as you lazily made waffles for the both of you. Everything flowed nicely and normally, like this had always been a normal thing that for a moment, you questioned once more what would happen next.

You were now getting ready for work, hands tugging at his tie because he was such a man-child who couldn’t even properly knot his own tie. His suit was custom tailored and he looked effortlessly gorgeous – beauty ripped straight from magazines he was constantly a front page of, but his tie was skewered and loose that it irritated you.

“You’re such a mess without me.”

Satoru bent down to wiggle his brows at you, thought you didn’t notice because he wouldn’t stay still for you to fix his tie fast enough. “Isn’t this sweet; you fixing my tie for me as we both get ready for work?” he teased, “We’re like a married couple already.”

“If you don’t shut up, I’m kicking you in the nuts.”

“Then how can I give you more babies?” picking up the newspaper on the coffee table beside you, you rolled it and started whacking him, a string of profanities colorfully painting his otherwise monochrome and sleek walls. Satoru’s laughter boomed all over the room even as he wiggled away from you, clutching his bicep that had been the victim of your abuse. “Ow, ow, I was joking! Jeez, woman, you are strong. Fight men a lot like this?”

“I work with you. My fighting instincts are always activated.”

His laugh really was annoying. But it did help ease your nerves – though you’d never tell him that – as you sat beside him in his car, the expensive leather seats no longer strange to you. It would’ve felt like any other day where you accompanied him somewhere, except the reason was different now, and it came crashing down on you of your current situation that things were undeniably different from now on.

You immediately stepped away from him the moment you got out of the car, clutching your clipboard to your tummy when Satoru bumped his shoulder with yours. “Come closer, it’s fine. No one will suspect a thing,” he points to the crowded building with people bumping and walking past each other, everyone too occupied in their own heads to even notice you.

It wasn’t much, but hearing his voice and reassurances relaxed you, even for just a little bit. Maybe your first day at work after the baby news wouldn’t be so bad, after all, but it seemed you had spoken too early.

Satoru heavily insisted that you worked inside his office from now on.

Your desk was located right outside his office, the phone line always within reach in case you needed to pass calls to him or if he needed you to come. Satoru preferred the privacy of his own space – or so he said; he actually just didn’t want you to witness him slacking around and experience your wrath – but now he was dragging you inside his office, pushing your shoulders down until you were ‘settled in.’

You didn’t even want to ask where he got a new desk from, or why it had to be right across from him. His desk remained elevated on a few levels, the welcoming lobby of the room filled with couches and stacks of coffee with a rich amount of sugar cubes.

Safe to say, most of the morning was spent (or rather, wasted) on you telling Satoru off. The man was too persistent, coming in on the office at random times of the hour with either snacks or heaps of biscuits on his arms. He always greeted you with a wide grin on his face, only to be kicked out of his own office because you had his hellish schedule and events to deal with. That was around three hours ago when you’d asked him to shut up and go bother someone else. You were halfway around finishing your workload for today when the door swung open, a tuft of white hair and mischievous eyes peeking through.

“Hey! Just checking in on mommy—”

“Satoru!”

“What? It’s just you and I,” he defended with a shrug, welcoming himself inside. Surprisingly, he was empty handed, though the pout on his lips told you it was against his will. “Seriously though, do you need anything? Do you want snacks? Tea? Do you need help going to the bathroom? You haven’t moved in your desk for an hour now.”

“Satoru, I’m pregnant, not disabled,” you ignored him for a while, resuming to working back on his schedule for the month. There were a bunch of e-mails you still had to respond to, which normally wouldn’t be such a daunting task if Satoru wasn’t shifting his weight from one foot to another, the sounds of his shoes hitting the tiles in an annoying click-clack rhythm getting to you. “Will you stop fidgeting! Your anxiety gives me anxiety, stop that!”

“I’m sorry, I can’t help it, I just feel like there’s something I should be doing.”

“Shutting up and letting me work in peace would be great, thank you.”

“You really don’t need anything?” Sending him a warning glare, Satoru sucked in his cheeks and ran back to his desk where he hid behind the safety of his large monitor. “Nope, yeah, I got the message: leave you alone. Good luck with that then, I’ll need those archives to pull up for our meeting with the directors later at five.”

Muttering a sarcastic finally under your breath, you resumed working.

The routine was per usual – answer the calls professionally with a welcoming and sweet voice, a pen always in one hand to jot down notes in reminders, adjust his schedules, work out his plans, go to him whenever he needed to sign something before responding back to e-mails. You were focused as you always were, but someone wasn’t, and it was getting harder and harder to keep being placated.

It didn’t help that he made no effort to hide the fact he was slacking off, the tip-taps of him randomly pressing keys on the keyboard similar to a fork dragging down a plate.

“I can feel you burning holes at the back of my head,” you twittered, “What do you need?”

“Nothing at all. I’m just realizing how beautiful you are right now.”

You paused. Unable to deny your curiosity over how serious he sounded, you spun around in your swivel chair. Satoru had his chin on his hands as he stared right back at you, his face devoid of expression that you couldn’t pick up on a single clue. “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

You rolled your eyes at him. Of course the bastard would be teasing you, his loud chuckles a painful reminder of that. It was best to ignore him, so you went back to reading e-mails and forced yourself to focus on the task at hand. “We’re at work. Please stop distracting me; I can’t focus when you’re staring at me like a creep.”

“Sorry, babe, I’ll try to be less distracting next time, though I can’t control my charisma, you know!”

You jotted your thumb to your desk outside, “I can walk back to my desk where you can’t see me. That’d be a great for both of us.”

“Stay right there, I was joking!”

“Do you promise to be quiet and actually do your job if I stay?”

“With you disciplining and ordering me around like that, why not?” Mouth open for another heated retort, Satoru stopped you before you could say anything, his aura more serious this time. He was always like this; fooling around and maturing the next second, only for the cycle to repeat and test your patience. “I’m just teasing you, Y/N, I’ll shut up now. You’re free to end work as soon as you’re tired though; the driver is waiting in the parking lot whenever you want to go home.”

“I’ll go home with you.” Home. It felt weird to say that, but also…natural.

“You’ll stay with me at work today?” He sounded genuinely surprised, and you responded with a one-shoulder shrug. That seemed to be enough for him, however, and it wasn’t long before Satoru found the oh so rare and fleeting motivation to work hard.

Once he was settled, sleeves rolled up to expose his veiny forearms and brows furrowed as he centered all his attention on the pile of paperwork before him, there was no stopping him.

Roles reversed and positions switched, you were now the one unable to take your eyes off him.

In this light, in this moment, Gojo Satoru had never looked more beautiful. He was much the same as you in the manner you never really noticed each other this way before; not romantically, but even just person to person. In your eyes, he was nothing but your irritating boss whose boisterous self always crowded over your peace, and in his eyes, you were nothing but his secretary who he knew always silently hoped would leave you alone.

But things were different now. You were different now.

Boundaries there may be, you couldn’t help that fluttering forming in your stomach. Contentment, happiness, relief, nervousness – all of them jumbled into one big mess. Out of them all, however, there was most definitely adoration, either out of respect for his unexpected kindness, or simply because it felt nice to feel for once.

Turning away from him until your back was the only thing he could see, you hid your smile as you secretly held your belly.

You’d never been reckless before, but what was to be a good story when there wasn’t a mistake or two made?

2K notes · View notes

witch-hazels-musings · 3 years

Note

Angst in coming. Diluc Zhongli and your pick being haunted by the SO they couldnt save.

Lingering Regret

Warning -> Only Angst (there isn’t a happy ending here, the reader is dead, all interactions are memories*, mentions of Kaeya (D), illness non-specific (Zh))

( i made myself cry )

Character X GN Reader | Anthology

Includes: Dainsleif, Diluc, Zhongli

The ghosts of the past cling to our shadows and seep into our memories when we least expect them to. For some they can move on, they can be healed by the passing of time, but for others, it becomes a festering wound that will never seal.

Dainsleif

He was no stranger to regret, absolutely everything in his life was a torturous experience. From the day he became the Bough Keeper to the night he failed them all, it was a memory burned in his mind for all eternity and as if he bore the weight of all of Teyvats karma he wove it into the fabric of his being

There was nothing he thought could break him more, could lower himself further into the sinking sandpit that was his life - that was until the day he met you

Just how many years ago was it now. With the curse of immortality like a chain to a world he was obligated to avenge, it was growing harder and harder to remember you - but there were moments when he could see and those were the ones he longed to hold onto

“Dainsleif, are you ready?” Your voice called down to him, his eyes flooded by the bright light that surrounded you as you patiently waited for him to climb the dark stairs. You followed him everywhere, much to his disagreement, but he had grown warm to your company. “The day won’t wait for us, you know.”

The light was so bright, why was it hiding your face? Wait -- let me see your face, I can’t remember. Don’t … don’t leave.

He blamed himself for your death - there was no one else who could have stopped it but him and, on the day you left this world to a place he had no way of reaching, was the day he stopped caring

There were rumors of a man who took little to no payment for almost any job - 300 mora and he’d handle your issue. They called him “The soulless vessel” for he was void of any and all emotions

How could he hold onto something that he didn’t understand anymore, how was he capable of experiencing a sensation that had no more purpose - he was nothing but a shell without you

“Psst, Daini. Hey sleepy, wake up.” The sound of your laughter, let me hear it again.

“Silly, we can’t sleep forever, wake up.” The touch of your hands, oh I remember them now … were they always this small.

“I guess we can rest a bit longer, you know I won’t mind.” Your lips, how could I have forgotten their warmth; I’ll let you remind me.

“Dainsleif, I love you.”

The birds pulled him from his dream, their chirping calls to each other a playful and carefree tune. He felt the warmth of the sun on his face, how it cast its glow across his lips but as the memory of his dream began to fade away he covered his eyes with his hand to hide the tears that disappeared into his hair.

“Forgive me …”

Diluc

Lingering ghosts loved to slip into the darkness that was Diluc Ragnvindr - when they fit so perfectly there, why wouldn’t they make him their home

He had countless people close to him perish and each one was a direct result of his actions - his father, a slash of a blade, his brother, a clash of opposing elements, his values, a single dismiss of a hand, his friends, the darkness of the abyss and the hands of the Fatui -- there was nothing he let get close anymore because it was only a matter of time before he brought it crumbling to the pit of his existence

How could he have been so naive - what was hope but a debilitating disease and yet you purged all of that from his mind every time you entered his space, every time you pushed your way past the walls he so expertly crafted -- you were the last thing he clung to, the last light he vowed to protect

“You know, you don’t have to worry about me all the time, I’m more capable than you think.” You crossed your arms and gave him a cocky smirk, the bag of supplies resting at your feet as they waited for you to pick them back up again. It was only because of his hesitancy that they were there in the first place.

“I have seen your capabilities many times, yes.”

“So, what, you don’t trust me.”

“That is far from the truth.” He looked at you for a moment before sighing in defeat. His hand reached for the bag and lifted it to your hands. “Do be careful, is all that I ask.”

“You know I will.” With a bright smile, you took the pack and slung it over your shoulder. In your excitement, you turned toward the door before pausing as if you forgot something and when you hurled yourself back to him only to place a kiss on his lips, he felt the heat from his pounding heart rise into his cheeks. “See you soon, handsome.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

The distant and closed-off winery owner turned into a being of rage the day of your death. No matter how hard those closest to him tried to quell the wildfire that was his fury, they could only stand back and deal with the aftermath - The flame of Diluc’s devastation was so great that it left a permanent scar in Mondstadt and to this day the earth has yet to heal

It was on him to protect you and he couldn’t, he wasn’t even there to try and he wasn’t sure what was worse - but one was for sure, the anguish he felt knowing you called out for him but he never came to save you ate him up inside. He wasn’t Diluc Ragnvindr anymore, he was no-one

“Diluc! Come back!” Kaeya shouted but he couldn’t hear over the sound of the violent crashing and eerie nothingness in front of him.

“Kaeya, don’t!” Another voice joined the noise but Diluc didn’t turn around. In front of him was the only answer to his shattered and empty heart.

“Diluc please, they wouldn’t want this!” Kaeya reached for Diluc’s arm but the pressure and wind from the opening were so great it felt like a thousand anchors were strapped to his body. “Diluc!”

Suddenly, there was silence. No noise, no sound but the world continued to whip around like a violent storm. Kaeya’s fingers touched the fabric of his brother's coat and, as Diluc turned his head to look back, tears were streaming down his face. It was strange to see Diluc’s lips moving as if he were saying something but there was nothing, an unbearable amount of nothing.

Riddled with fear, Kaeya extended his hand toward the rip in space and as soon as he felt the pulse of his vision escape his fingers, his others curled around Diluc’s jacket and flung him backward. In the settling explosion, the sound of the world slipped back in and as those who cared deeply for the man who no longer knew his name drew closer, the first thing they saw was his hunched-over body guarded by blue and the sound of his painful cries.

Zhongli

To know suffering, to know loss was nothing new to the Geo Archon. For six thousand years he watched those close to him rise in greatness and fall in agony - for some they were thrust into death by a number of means and for others, well, his hands have never been clean

Still, even if he had known what it was like to lose someone he loved, it was never easy and while he always knew the day would come when you left this world to walk a path he’d never know, it wasn’t something he expected so soon

There were endless memories he couldn’t wait to make with you - the engraving your life into the notches of his soul, to be reminded of your face by simply turning around, to recall your wit with banter of his own, to be inspired by you every single day he stepped out the door -- why didn’t you stay

“Welcome home, Zhongli.” You were already preparing the table with the teacups by the time he entered your home. It was elegant incarnate to watch you move around the room, to place everything so perfectly and properly that he wondered if you hadn’t been a spirit in another life.

“I am home.” He reached for your waist and pulled you close, his smile setting yours off, and as the kettle began to sound he first greeted you with a heartwarming kiss.

There are many things he can circumvent - his capabilities are endless but he found that no matter how strong a person is, there is one thing strength cannot beat

To watch you slowly suffer was a torturous thing. Every day you grew weaker and weaker, your skin changed but the kindness of your smile outweighed it all until the day finally came ...

A ceremony to send someone off is a beautiful thing, a celebration of their life while they kept it their own, a remembrance and blessing to hold strong every impact they made - but to Zhongli that day was laced with bitterness

He made the arduous steps up the hillside. His legs carried him on even when nothing else of him felt the desire to do so. When he finally reached the peak, he prepared everything so skillfully as if he’d practiced this a thousand times, and it's possible he did for there was no end to his life even if he wished for it.

“My dear, the flowers are blooming splendidly.” He set the burning incense by the weathered tombstone. It had faded and eroded over the years, but as he brushed the engraving with his fingers, he could still make out its marks.

The chimes in the tree rang out as he poured a glass of tea before setting it against the small offering before you. “Ah, I can only hope you are able to see them from beyond the veil.” As he gazed out over the vast field, the sun illuminated the thousands of flowers that surrounded your grave, and, as he took a sip of his tea, he sighed contentedly before continuing, “Never worry, I shall cultivate more until you do. I know how fond you were of flowers.”

tag list:

@star-gods @mercurysmaiden @dourpeep @clemmywrites @handswritteeen @musekala @mooshymello @glazelilyy @twokissesforamelia @angel-melt @lucacandy @marianadi @smol-knife @nightlywallows @aoirohi @mguerra11 @lucy-roo @maiiikoo @nonniechan @tempehlust @zenith-impact @plumpkie @jaggedsi @salty-salty @onlyhereforinteractivestories @liebestraumss @jaemjenjam @softlybeloved @anatthesavage @mkazuyuh @excitedlysuffering @kaidou-pie @yujiia @cytomegalia @natxxu @fvushiguros @nua-fromliyue @nightlywallows @yoshikuno @anonymousficreader @cyphermagic @chichikoi @akira-kiryu

339 notes · View notes

earlgreydream · 3 years

Text

force.

| kylo ren x reader | smut |

Kylo helps you seize the power of the force, tipping the balance in favor of the dark side

cw: force-violence, mentions of death (star wars), inappropriate use of the force

“Breathe, Y/N.”

The command grounded you. You felt it, the block inside of you shattering. Everything inside of you reached out, the invisible hand grabbing hold, finding stability in The Force.

Power filled you as you inhaled, flooding like a wave. Your eyes opened, revealing a world of slick black and red. You hovered above the ground, above your prince.

You harnessed The Force, soaking it up and feeling the power surge through your veins. It became your center, your source of life, and the absolute balance.

There was no longer a wall that kept you from the power, and you were free from the bonds of your mind that held you back. The bonds that had been put into place to keep you from The Force.

The Force was overwhelming. The raw power made your body hum and throb, pulsing deep inside of your soul and pouring out of you.

And there was Kylo, his dark eyes glittering with a savage hunger, a sick satisfaction. He gazed up at you in all of your glory. The prince was awestruck, his prodigé finally reaching full potential.

The two of you had spent months trying to break the block in your mind. Your screams had echoed off of the walls of the Star Destroyer, white-hot pain searing every corner of your mind as Kylo forced himself in, trying to break through.

“You’re still holding on! Let go!”

It had been like you were burning from the inside out. His screams mixed with your own, echoing in your head, through the entire ship, until there was sudden silence. The heat turned to ice when you collapsed on the cold ground, relief washing over you as Kylo let go of your mind.

Kylo tortured you daily, trying to help you connect with your power. It tortured him as much as it did you, and after months he struggled. Whenever you’d collapse, he heaved out apologies. The Supreme Leader would drag you into him, begging you to open your eyes and let him know you were okay. He always feared that one time you wouldn’t survive it, that his forceful efforts would finally kill you. Even with the risk, you begged him to do it anyway. You wanted the power, you needed it.

Now, it had worked.

Your sick, deranged laughter bounced off of the glass, fueled by the euphoric high that spun in your mind. You felt the balance shift, and Kylo felt it too. Everything tipped into darkness, falling.

“You did it.”

“I did it,” you repeated after Kylo.

You slowly sank to the floor, bare feet connecting with cool, black marble. The heartbeat of the universe was under your feet, and you finally stopped tumbling through nothingness.

Kylo felt everything shift, your power pouring into the dark side. This was what you wanted, what you worked for, what you almost died for.

“Supreme Leader.”

“Empress.”

A grin spread across your face, hearing him call you that. The Knights of Ren all dropped to one knee, bowing to you. You were no longer his prodigé, but his equal. With training, it was likely you would surpass even his own ability.

You felt it now, the connection. You and Kylo were one. His heartbeat was yours, thrumming in your chest to the same rhythm.

Your black robes soundlessly brushed the floor as you followed Kylo to the throne room. General Hux stood in your way, as usual.

“Y/N-”

“Empress!” Kylo snapped, correcting him. Ginger eyebrows shot up, and he barked out a laugh of disbelief.

“Come on, you didn’t manage to open up your broken doll!” He snorted.

Less than a millisecond passed before Hux’s body cracked against the other end of the hallway. Your fingers squeezed, choking him from meters away. Kylo made no move to stop you, or save his general from your new abilities.

He choked and struggled against your invisible grip on his throat, sick pleasure twisting in you as you watched the light bleed from his eyes. His fear only fueled you, his terror buzzing like electricity up your spine.

Just before the loss of oxygen was fatal, you dropped him, releasing your hold. Hux wheezed and gasped, fighting for his life in a squirming pile on the floor.

“Disrespect me again, General Hux, and I won’t be so gentle,” you warned, your voice dripping with sadistic amusement. His green eyes were wide, and he looked to Kylo for protection, who only smirked at your warning.

The Knights’ steps echoed after you like thunder, three going to either side of the throne as you took your place beside Kylo, instead of kneeling on the floor beneath him. The First Order was at your fingertips, an army at your command. And soon, the who galaxy.

Everyone felt it, the shift in The Force. The Jedi filled with dread, feeling your power pull the galaxy like a magnet.

“I’m so proud of you,” Kylo’s voice echoed Anakin’s.

“Come with me.”

You obeyed, following Kylo through the dark hallways to his chambers. The door slid shut behind you, securing the two of you in the huge, dark room. Stars glittered outside the wall of glass, planets far-off in the distance. Everything was black and luxurious, all but the red First Order symbol on the back of the door.

Your black robes slipped from your body, discarded with Kylo’s. He was huge in every respect, towering over you and filling the room with his presence. Before, you had felt small, and powerless under him, but it was different now. It didn’t feel the same, not anymore. He dominated you physically, but your mind and power were just as sharp as his.

“Please,” you didn’t need to elaborate. Kylo nodded, and you pushed him down against the black silk sheets. He moved easily, his large hands sliding up your waist and steadying you as you straddled his hips.

“Let me please you,” you whispered, your hot breath stirring Kylo’s dark locks, your lips ghosting his cheekbone. He nodded, and Kylo’s black eyes widened in surprise as his hands were pinned above his head. He tugged at his wrists fruitlessly, unable to move, even when he tried.

“Y/N?” His deep voice tinged with uncertainty.

“Just lay there and take it, Supreme Leader. Give yourself to me, let go,” you breathed.

Your lips lightly brushed against his, and he leaned up to really kiss you. It was needy and desperate, his walls crumbling as he submitted to you. Your praises were soft, soothing his desperation to touch you, to flip you over and pound into you like he was so accustomed to doing.

Your tongue slid along his full lips before gliding against his own, deepening the kiss. You swallowed Kylo’s low whine as your force wrapped around him and began to stroke his cock like an invisible hand. He fought against the restraints, wanting to take control and feel you actually touch him.

Choked whimpers escaped him as your fingers moved, making the pressure tease him. You smiled, brushing his curls away from his forehead. Your nails lightly dragged down his broad chest, leaving faint red lines in their wake.

“What is it, love?” you asked sweetly, tilting your head to the side and leaning forward.

“You’re being a fucking tease,” he snarled.

Kylo thrashed on the bed, but you couldn’t focus any more strength on restraining him. Maybe with more practice, but you were unsure if Kylo would help after your misuse of power.

“Oh, Kylo, what would your knights think of you if they saw you like this? The First Order? Their Supreme Leader weak for me.”

He growled out a threat, cut off sharply with a mewl when your tongue lapped at the head of his cock, making his hips twitch. Your nails dragged over this thighs, moving between his legs to replace The Force with your own touch. Your movements became more focused as you tried to drag him toward an orgasm, finding your efforts quickly successful.

Kylo came in thick ribbons with a yell, his curls fanning out around him as his head fell back, his hips thrusting up into your hand. You sat on his thighs, pinning him down as you continued to tease him, not letting up.

“Y/N! Fuck, don’t!”

“I will fucking tear you apart when you let me go-” he threatened, crying out as you overstimulated him. You had the Supreme Leader whimpering at your little touches.

You were drunk on the power you asserted, seeing him falling apart and begging you to let him go, until his dark eyes were wet and his voice was nothing more than broken whines.

You were about to sink yourself down on him, using him to get yourself off, when your attention faltered for an instant at the touch to your throbbing sex. Kylo seized the opportunity, tearing free of your hold.

A frightened scream escaped you as your body was thrown against the mattress, your wrists trapped in First Order binder handcuffs. Your front was pressed against cool sheets, Kylo not bothering to use his power to restrain you, wanting all of it to go into your torture.

“I hope you enjoyed that, because it was the last time you ever overpower me,” Kylo seethed, biting down into the smooth skin of your shoulder, ripping a yelp from you.

“Kylo, I’m sorry,” you tried to backtrack, but it was too late.

Kylo gripped your grips and jerked you onto your knees, your face still pressed against the mattress. You squealed as he buried himself inside of your slick cunt in one violent thrust. He stretched you out, forcing your body to accommodate him, not bothering to give you time to adjust.

His grip was painfully tight on your hips as he slammed into you, fucking you aggressively. The pent-up rage from the way you’d toyed with him came pouring out in the way he tore you up. Painful pleasure blinded you, your body screaming from the stimulation. The invisible touch was stroking your clit and swirling around your nipples, as well as squeezing your throat, reminding you further who was in charge now.

You writhed beneath Kylo as he used you, going as rough and as hard as he could until you collapsed, limp and weak beneath him. Kylo showed you no mercy, fucking you past three orgasms, until your throat was raw from screaming. Exhaustion got to you before Kylo finished, and you wished you were numb by the time he finally unlocked your wrists and pulled out of your raw sex. You shuddered at every slight brush against your skin, the overstimulation sparking pain through your nerves.

He flipped you onto your back, his massive hand gripping your jaw and making you look him in the eye.

“I am your Supreme Leader, and you submit to me!”

“Yes, Kylo,” your breathed weakly, accepting the kiss you were given as solace.

988 notes · View notes

hotdamnhunnam · 3 years

Text

Pacific Love

A/N: So this fic can be read as Part 2 to Pacific Rimjob, or as a standalone fic! This second part is based on the below request for some hot sex followed by comforting cockwarming with Raleigh, the fluffiest snuggliest version of Charlie 🥰

Pairing: Raleigh Becket x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, your pussy serving as a home for Raleigh’s cock Requests: Request from @wayward-avenging + a separate request from @rayslittlekitten

Word Count: ~1.7k

“Still can’t believe you saved the motherfucking world.”

Your boyfriend sighs, with an exasperated blink of his blue eyes. Hates when you say it in that way, like he alone had saved the day. “We saved the world. Me and my girl.”

“You and the Gipsy Danger?” you reply, the name of his beloved Jaeger. The massive robot you two co-pilot together.

Raleigh heaves another sigh. He’s a fierce feminist, aware that women rarely get the recognition that they merit; the injustice of it makes him want to cry. That’s why he’s clearly so upset at your refusal to take credit.

Brushing a speck of dust off of the warm navy blue sweater he’s got on, you urge him not to sweat it. “Babe, I’m just pushing your buttons,” you admit, reaching to ruffle his blonde hair bright as spun gold and soft as cotton. At your touch you can already sense the energy inside him shifting. Letting go of his frustration as you gently fluff it out of him. “I know I had to carry all your problems, so it’s obvious that I’m the one who did the heavy lifting.”

He smiles as he melts into your hand then brings it down toward his lips so he can kiss it. “You know I’m glad the war is finished... but I gotta say I’m gonna miss it. Drifting.”

“Being in each other’s heads? Well, even better yet... we’ll always have our time together in each other’s beds.”

“That’s true,” he coos, stars in his baby blues. “I really like being inside of you.”

Who gave this full-grown man the right to be so fucking cute? It’s fucking rude. Your fingers wander toward his gorgeous golden mane again and comb tenderly through. “Of course you do. I like it too... and I love you.”

Throughout the war that you have somehow overcome, Drifting together had begun to feel like home. It felt like you belonged in his head even more than in your own. You were just better when you both were in that deep mind-melding zone. The two of you are more than just compatible; the bond you share is magical. It’s pure and powerful as hell.

And thankfully you know a way to bring that level of connection into the bedroom as well.

***************

Sex with Raleigh Fucking Becket... is a trip to heaven on a one-way ticket.

You still recall and probably won’t ever forget—back in the days before the two of you had met—what all the other women gossiping throughout the Shatterdome had said: how this new guy walking around the halls was tall and good-looking and no doubt even better-looking naked, but probably a dud in bed. A pretty slice of plain white bread.

While he may come off as a teddy bear, with his soft fluffy hair, and eyes so big and bright you never fail to melt beneath his stare... so wholesome it’s really not fair... the truth is, none of those bitches knew shit.

They didn’t have a clue, just what Mr. Becket could do. Neither did you—until he claimed you as his girl and put you through it.

True, Raleigh insists on sex within a context of mutual understanding and respect. Prefers softcore. Prefers the passion to feel pure, to let your hearts and souls connect.

But that won’t stop his big heroic dick from fucking like a monster once he knows that you are ready to get wrecked. And all the hardcore kinks of yours... he’s more than willing to explore.

By now he’s got a kink himself for dirty talk, and roughing you up with his cock—spanking your ass while he slams your cunt from behind and constantly reminds you that you are his filthy fucking whore.

That’s what he does tonight, fucking you up just right.

He takes more pleasure and more pride, in pounding into you and plunging deep inside, than any earth-shattering war he’ll ever fight.

And so do you—the slick walls of your pussy squeezing tight, around his huge shaft as he plows it through, splitting you open wide... his cock may be the Jaeger as you take it. But this love is meant for both of you to make it.

The bed beneath you creaks and rocks, as Raleigh keeps slapping your slutty ass and railing you with his colossal cock; this wouldn’t be the first time that the power of his thrusts managed to break it.

Having literally saved the world gives you the right to fuck so hard you’ll probably fucking shake it. Shake the whole damn world. The wholesome hero and his filthy whore, his dirty little girl.

Now the war is finally over maybe someday he can flood you with his cum without protection and pump you full of a little baby Becket...

But you shouldn’t get ahead of yourself yet. That’s for another night. Tonight you’re still on birth control as he fills up your hole and hammers you into the bed. Tonight is all about making your man’s cock feel at home inside your cunt so wet, so tight—letting him wreck it, now the two of you have conquered this long fight... and then indulging in a long night that he won’t ever forget.

Once his thick hot cum paints your pussy, so deliciously juicy, your sex and his pulsing in sync in perfect ecstasy... both of you take a breathless moment to recover from the climax so intense and clear the shooting stars spinning around your heads.

Your co-pilot’s full body weight collapses down on yours and crushes you into the bed, so you can feel the muscles of his abs and chest, slick with his sweat, against your back so firmly pressed. He knows just how much you love that—it’s the best, this sense of being so closely connected, after any round of sex you’ve had, completely covered by your lover as you sink into the mattress. Being beneath him in this way makes you feel safe and loved and so alive after your senses get fucked dead.

Raleigh softly tilts his face to kiss your cheek, filling you with the love that gives you endless strength yet makes you feel so weak. Somehow you manage now to speak, reminding him of that one thing that he had said.

“Do you still miss the Drift?”

His cock inside your core is still as massive, almost just as stiff. Meanwhile his loving mouth curves up into a smile as it shifts from your cheek down toward your parted lips to seal them with a kiss. “There’s not a thing I miss. Not when I’m with you just like this.”

As if you weren’t already you are now convinced: Raleigh Becket is honestly a motherfucking Disney prince.

You drown in kisses for a few seconds—or minutes, or hours for all that you know, given that your perception of time always blurs in the sheer bliss of afterglow. Each kiss is soft and sweet and sensual and slow.

His meat at last begins to soften where it’s buried deep inside you. Pulling out to shift position, for a sleepy snuggle session, is what he’ll usually do.

... But you have something else in mind, which you don’t doubt will feel divine. The thought of it excites you and you know that it’ll be nice for Raleigh too.

“Why don’t you stay,” you softly say, just as he starts to pull away.

“...Stay?” he echoes as he keeps his body held against yours tightly.

“Inside of me,” you murmur quietly. “Isn’t that where you like to be?”

His fully drained dick answers with a twitch. Throbbing against your inner walls and scratching a new itch. He’s catching on to the idea that you want to serve him as his cockwarming bitch.

Though Raleigh hates the thought of using you like some kind of accessory... on some level he knows that isn’t how it has to be. It can be comforting and pleasing for the two of you both equally, to keep him in your pussy, buried deeply.

And as he answers your question it’s obvious that he’s aroused beyond belief. “It’s home for me. If I could I would be inside you permanently. Never leave.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure the war is finally over...” you provocatively murmur. “So just go ahead and make yourself at home, soldier.”

You co-pilot lets out a growl of arousal and nuzzles your shoulder. “You sure?”

“Of fucking course. You know this pussy is all yours.”

“Mmm, that’s my perfect little whore,” he snarls, the words making your toes curl. “Who knew you’re such a dirty girl?��

“Um, you did, stupid.”

He masks his laughter and pretends to be insulted. “Now that’s no way to talk to the hero who just saved the world!”

“I’m sorry, sir,” you playfully answer. “Remind me that you saved the world and that you own my body, sir.”

Raleigh’s half-hard dick pushes inside you deeper than it already is as his full weight keeps pressing you into the bed. “Mmm, as if you could ever forget...”

Indeed as if you ever could, when his cock owns you so fucking good.

You spend all night impaled on his wood. Alternating between cozy cuddling, with butterfly kisses and fluffy hair ruffling... and crazy hard fucking, with him stuffing you so roughly that you’ll surely wake incapable of walking... then cuddling again as his cock slowly softens. Changing up your position every so often, but never once loosening your cunt’s tight hold of him—all the while Raleigh stays buried inside of you just as he should.

Whisper words of love, though words are never enough. You both already know it, and show it... melding into one and the same person, your two hearts as one, beating in unison, just as every fiber of your being and his come undone in complete perfect sync every time you get off.

The war has never felt farther behind you, than now when he’s deep inside you. This is home and there’s such peace, in each release. Such pure pacific love.

While the bond that you forged and explored in the Drift was a gift... one that Raleigh will miss.. nights like this—this feeling of sharing in such absolute bliss—even after the war is finished, love unlike war has no fucking limits. And that’s the true gift.

This is the gift that will keep on giving for as long as you live.

***************

Hope you enjoyed this, and would love to hear if you did! 🤗💖

Masterlist

Tag List – Join Here!*

*If you’re unable to use that link to join the tag list, just let me know and I’ll manually add you to it!

@itsme-autumn @rebelwrites @happyhenners @band--psycho @witching-hour @est11 @edonaspanca @ughdontbeboring @neverland14353 @starbooty @coffeequeenxx @innerpaperexpertcloud @i-love-scott-mccall @six-camelot @alexa-rae-dreamz @justme2042 @awesomenatalia @auroraariza @rochyu @coffeebooksandfandom @inlovewithcharliehunnam @turner-cris @thesuicidalflower @chrmdnbeautiful @xladymacbethx @holl2712 @snow-white-74 @moonlight-fern @stitchesbystults @lilacyennefer @magic-room @sunflower12335 @trishmarieofficial @smoochesfroggos @o0idk0o @beth-winchester21 @flaireandsynch @littlebennettwitchsblog @got-to-love-a-badboy @noneofyourbusinessssblog @notquitecannon @wayward-avenging @travistheaussie @helloheyhihowdyheya @filliandkili @christycarnell6 @dinopin @leathercladmenfics @magictehnique @amberembers @addcrastinator3 @gemini0410 @waywardodysseys @foreve-free @midnvght-lies @wiccanash @batmanb @xbreezymeadowsx @louisianalady [hit the 50-tag limit – list to be continued in a reblog of this fic]

#charlie hunnam #raleigh becket #pacific rim #charlie hunnam smut #raleigh becket smut #pacific rim smut #charlie hunnam imagine #raleigh becket imagine #pacific rim imagine #charlie hunnam fanfiction #raleigh becket fanfiction #pacific rim fanfiction #raleigh becket x reader #raleigh becket x you #charlie hunnam x reader #charlie hunnam x you

333 notes · View notes

wandsandwheezes · 3 years

Text

Fake It | Weasley Twins | CH4

one // two // three

Warnings | 18+ SMUT, mature themes, fake relationships, secret relationships, love, sex, drama, angst, fluff, cheating

Summary // Fred Weasley has been set up to publicly date Y/N, London’s best Quidditch Seeker in order to drum up some publicity. Y/N however has a different ginger man on her mind; George Weasley.

A/N // im so sorry to the vanilla beans for this one xxxx

Green was definitely your colour. At least that’s what George thought as you ran down the stairs, the dress you were wearing was elegant and sophisticated but still casual, George thought you looked absolutely ravishing in everything you wore. You smiled lovingly at him when you caught him staring. You hadn't spoke to Fred since the incident when he tried to kiss you, having well and truly avoided the topic for at least 3 days. you were not looking forward to having to feign your love for each other.

Despite the fact that Fred had already apologised, it didn't make things any easier. "You look beautiful." he stated, as you straightened his tie and flattened down his hair, "And you look a mess, Fred". His tired eyes looked at you pleadingly, as his hands came up to button his suit jacket. George and his heavy stride came barrelling down the stairs, when you spotted him, he looked like a work of art, his features were glowing and he was clean shaven, perfect hair hanging and framing his face, a request from you that he should grow it out a little more than usual. He didn't look stressed or worried like Fred did, and in this moment you realised the toll that days like this took on Fred and George did too.

The shop was perfectly pristine, the new massive display fully stocked and the centre of attention, Fred had briefed the employees this morning, making sure that they knew the drill. Crowds and the press were all gathered outside in anticipation, the volume growing so much that you began to hear it from within the confines of the shop.

When the doors swung open, it well and truly became show time. You hung delicately off of Fred's arm, as you stepped out of the opening doors, huge flashes of cameras, as well as cheers of excitement all bombarded your senses, however it was nothing compared to the thrill of the stadium.

Fred began to deliver the speech about the new line of products, taking a moment to thank the investors and patrons of the shop, George followed on by unveiling the collection of items from the new line, the gorgeous green packaging complimenting your dress perfectly. Your eyes were fixated on the man of your dreams as he talked with such passion and vigour. You had to remind yourself that there were hundreds if not, thousands of eyes on you and that you probably shouldn't have been staring at George the way you were but you just couldn't help it. Fred once again takes to the stage to begin the personal thank yous before the store opens.

"we want to thank the family for their continued support in our endeavours, also, Cheryl, our press manager and last but very not least my gorgeous girl, who has been with us every step of the way." he beckoned you onto the stage, as he continued, "Even though she has quidditch practice out of her ears for the big game next week, she always finds the time to brighten my day." His hand snuck around your waist before travelling down to firmly grab your ass.

Fred's mind was racing, he thought that here would be the perfect opportunity to finally have his lips on yours, crashing them down onto you without even a second thought. There was absolutely no way you could pull away in front of everyone, you were conflicted. The frantic flashing, as well as cheers and woos from the crowd were distraction enough. It was stopping you from hurling sick directly into his mouth at the thought of George being subjected to this bullshit.

George watched the events unfold before him, stopping himself from ripping you away protectively. He wanted to cut off Fred's hand more than ever, disgusted that he had the balls to grab your perfect ass so candidly in public - an ass that didn't even belong to him. George was absolutely livid, he could tell your discomfort a mile away. His heart shattering at how hopeless and weak you were to the situation.

The doors of the shop finally opened and shoppers began to swarm in, ready to grab the latest products and creating a comforting blanket of noise. Cherry was smiling happily at you, sending a wink and a thumbs up your way. Your eyes however were searching for your Lover, disappointed he was nowhere to be seen, you pull out your phone to see a text from less than a minute ago.

>> Toilets, Now. Don't make me wait x

This was not good, but your heart raced faster with every step you took towards the bathroom, the door was slightly ajar when you got there, slipping into the cosy room you noticed George there and waiting, you shut the door behind you, flicking the lock before you heard him cast a silencing charm on the room, you heard the sounds of the bustling shop slowly fade, leaving the only audible sound as your staggered breath.

George's strong hand was on your cheek as he kissed you passionately. This kiss felt right, a thousand sparks of electricity coursing through you the very second your lips touched and you felt as if the whole world was spinning. His lips were the perfect warmth against yours, the sticky saliva rolling off both of your tongues as he parted your lips with his, taking the opportunity to swipe his tongue over yours, letting you know who you belonged to. He was moaning into your mouth, an action that made your cunt throb with anticipation. He pulled away only enough to spit directly into your mouth before feverishly shoving you down to your knees. "Use that wet mouth of yours, now Princess."

Your needy hands were unbuckling his belt, metal clinking against itself as you pulled his hard on out from his trousers, you obliged immediately, lips wrapping around his cock as you sucked, taking him deep down your throat. The sounds you made as you gagged on his thick shaft were sending him to heaven, his hand was firmly gripping your jaw as he coaxed nearly his whole length down your throat. You pulled away for air, moaning as he slipped out of your mouth, your hand came up to stroke him quickly before taking him past your lips again. This time however, George took no solace as his hand gripped into your hair, making it the perfect leverage to hold your face in place as he rocked his hips, cock fucking every flicker of anger directly down your throat. Hearing you choke and splutter with every thrust was only egging him on more, it was one of his favourite sounds and he couldn't get enough.

"I hope he fuckling likes how my cock tastes." he growled as he locked eyes with you. "That's it take it all, my good little cockwhore." he was still fucking your mouth, chasing his own release, your hands gripped the back of his thighs as he pushed himself fully into your mouth, hot streams of his cum hitting the back of your throat, spilling out of your mouth as he pulled himself free. His thumb swiped from the corner of your mouth, "Swallow like a good little girl." he marvelled at you eagerly taking his thumb into your mouth. He smiled proudly when you opened your mouth, seeing every last drop gone.

You loved it when George used your mouth like a fuck toy, it didn't happen often, but when it did, he was often angry like now or stressed and desperate for a release. "Up. get up on the sink." he commanded, you immediately pulled yourself to your feet, sitting up on the sink, his hands coming up to spread your legs apart as he found himself on his knees before you. "Tell me who you belong to." you sighed as his finger hooked quickly into your underwear pulling it to the side, you felt his breath fanning over your exposed pussy. "You, George, only you."

"Good, let's see if Daddy can help his pretty girl then, hm?" His sinful lips had attached to your clit, sucking slowly as his tongue lapped over it, the pleasure of being touched pulled a long desperate moan from you, you thanked that he had at least silenced the room, because with every motion and movement of his skilled tongue, you were moaning and spluttering, desperate to have a release. "Georgie, your tongue is so good!" he hummed in appreciation, thumb running through your sticky sweetness before coming up to circle over your clit at an antagonising rate. "I wanna cum daddy, please, feels too good." he chuckled, lips pressing dainty kisses along your inner thighs and right over your tight hole, before blowing a gentle cool breeze over your whole wet and glistening cunt.

His hands found your thighs, hooking them into his arms to move and press your back against the wall. "I don't even care if we get caught or if I'm taking too long anymore, you're mine and I fuck you when I want." he pulled your hips down onto him, making you bounce against him a little, you knew it wouldn't take you long to be coming all over him, you were already a blubbering mess for him, pulling every moan from your lips as he kissed you feverishly. He knew he'd hit the right spot when you clenched all around him, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. He pulled out of you, leaving you sat on the counter as your legs still shook from the orgasm running through your muscles.

He used the mirror to make himself presentable once again, smirking as he left you blissed out on the counter, pressing a simple kiss to your lips. "Such a good girl, I love you, baby." He was out of the door before you knew it and you were left with your own juices running down your legs. You looked in the mirror, taken back by just how fucked out you looked, making yourself smile, George really did do a good job with his girl. You pulled yourself together, quickly, using a spell to fix up your hair and makeup, thankfully in time for Cherry to burst through the door. "There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you."

The small clip of her heels against the hardwood floor as you followed her to find Fred, was enough to pull you back down to earth, still high off the rush of ecstasy. It was no doubt she was wrangling you and Fred together for a picture opportunity, spotting George smirking as he clocked just how distracted you were. Smiling and posing for the cameras was second nature, Fred was watching just how happy you looked, his heart beating faster at the thought that you were smiling because of him.

"Simply another perfect kiss from a star couple!" Cherry beamed before parading off to talk to the reporters. Fred's brow furrowed, "Another?" he queried, you'd realised now that he hadn't yet seen the paper with yourself and George caught on the cover. "She's probably comparing us to someone else, Freddie." you shrugged, avoiding his gaze. "Yeah, Probably." sadness falling to the pit of his stomach, the girl he was crazy for wouldn't even look at him, and he wanted nothing more than the electricity of his lips against hers once more, he needed it, no - he craved it.

>>>>> Chapter 5

taglist // @starlightweasley @slytherinsunrise @gcdric @theweasleysredhair @whiz-bangs78 @weasleysflowr @vogueweasley @minty-malfoy @vivianweasley @feetoffthetablee @thisismynerdyself @rip-us @witch-and-a-half @sarcasticallywitty15 @pandaxnienke @loony-loopy-lupinn @pigwidgexn@starkidpotty @mrmoonyy @mackaywhore @softlyqoos @colorfulprofessornickelangel @fandomscombine @satellitespidey @txtdreamss @aaannabbanana @kaylahmarie

#Fake It Fic #george weasley fic #george weasley #george weasley x reader #fred and george #george weasley smut #george weasley fluff #fred weasley #fred weasley fic #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fluff #weasley twins #harry potter #ginger hair #harry potter fic #harry potter smut

397 notes · View notes

deberiaestarescribiendo · 3 years

Text

Fools who dream #Writer Wednesday 07/28/21 Javier Peña x f!reader

For #Writer Wednesday created by @autumnleaves1991-blog and tagging @clydesducktape that creates the masterlist every week. Thank you for the amazing work to both of you!!

Paring: Javier Peña xf!reader (addressed as you/she)

Summary: Long time ago, Javier met a girl full of dreams living a hard life. One day, driving around town he finds out that maybe, dreams do come true.

Warnings: smoking, swearing, +18 SMUT not very descriptive sex but it’s there, allutions to prostitution.

A/N: This is the lovechild of: me being angsty, listening to Lalaland’s soundtrack, and rereading a novella I wrote a long time ago about an escort girl that I was planning to rewrite (I thought that it could be an interesting Javi’s fic, but I don’t know). So to conclude: a mess, voilá! bear in mind, there’s mention of sexwork and we respect sexworkers in this house.

Sorry for any mistakes and bad grammar!!

Fools who dream

She turns and faces the camera, they make a dramatic zoom on her while the orquestra rises in a beautiful romantic crescendo. With pink parted lips she smiles at the protagonist, her eyes glow and shyly she lowers her gaze.

Back to the male lead he’s looking at her like there’s nobody else in the room, the camera blurs everything except his face and hers. Love, romance.

The movie was not really interesting until the moment she appeared. Same old story about a guy in search of that perfect girl, his life is miserable; making him fall into very comedic and not very surprising adventures and misfortunes on a very normal life up until she appears and then she shows him the meaning of life and live life to the fullest or some bullshit.

Javi didn’t pay a ticket for a good story, fuck he didn’t even read the plot before buying it. But he saw the sign while he was waiting at the traffic light, the local drive-in cinema and its yellow lights against the night presenting:

The right one (or something like that) starring some guy and then her name.

So he drove in and asked for a ticket, probably looking a bit weird being just a guy alone buying just one ticket to a romantic comedy surrounded by couples. It looks fucking sad, Peña he thought. But he has to see her, he has to see if it is true.

“Hi”

she says on the screen and it takes him away from his thoughts. Hearing that voice again after many years hits him so differently. To think that those sweet lips moaned and called his name pressed against his skin, so close that he can almost feel the heat of her body on him in his cold lonely car.

The guy smiles at her and makes a fool of himself gaining a sweet giggle from her. And it reminds him of the times she danced in his apartment or made fun of him for being such a grump.

Deja de fruncir el ceño, Javi, que se te va a quedar así (Stop frowning, Javi, or it’s gonna stay like that) she used to say, brushing her index finger over her nose giggling just like now in the movie.

She said something back, but he’s not listening. Javier just puts the words he remembers she said to him on her lips. A fantasy within a fantasy.

What is more real? those intimate moments years ago or him watching her on a movie alone in his car?

He has lost the plot, but who cares? She laughs and pushes the protagonist's hand to the empty streets of New York and the lights shine on them, and as the world perfectly bends to lovers in movies, it starts raining and she receives the drops with open arms and a wide grin. And they kiss, a perfect one, soft lips over the other. Nothing like the kisses they shared

Their kisses were hungry, knowing that they were borrowed and paid in time, rushed sometimes, others slowly and messy pouring all the heat and the pain and the adrenaline in which he lived in those years.

Now he wishes he could have kissed her once last time, just like that, softly, the world far away from them. Perfect just like a movie.

The audience claps rejoicing in this celebration of love, some young couples are celebrating love in some different kind of way, the movie merely an excuse to have some time alone under the stars.

And Javier is suddenly aware of his loneliness of the empty space by his side, he’s the antonym of what he’s seeing on screen, of having the luck of finding the one and being delighted in love.

He could’ve been in love, once. He certainly felt something growing and shattering the hard shield he had on his chest when they were together.

And now watching her mimic those feelings, those desires, he feels jealous, of what? he doesn’t know, it’s not like they had a chance...did they?

Colombia, 1984

“You’re going to laugh” you say the fan above your head blows waves of hot air that still smell of sex and the cigarette Javi’s smoking languidly over the window.

He has barely put his jeans on, the zip and top button undone. He looks tired, the dark circles under his eyes are way more visible today than ever. You can even see the weight on his shoulders, he’s hunching, his neck curved down as he smokes.

He doesn’t say but you know there’s something bothering him, he’s quieter than usual, rougher.

He called you late in the evening, paid a taxi to get you to his house and you barely made it to the door when he grabbed you by your hips and pressed his body against yours. The kiss was ardent, his tongue invading your mouth in a mix of coffee, whiskey and smoke and need. You tried to push him and talk, just maybe say hello how was your day but he whimpered, he’s dark eyes pleading while he caressed your cheeks. And you let him, you know what he needed so you said nothing when he impatiently fisted your skirt up your navel and pushed your panties to the side so he could bury himself in you.

Covered in the dim lights of the scarce traffic in the middle of the night, silent apart from the rhythmic thumps of your hips hitting the door and both of your whispers and moans, Javier performed his usual rite of expelling his demons away on you. Each thrust, each second he was in you, the world became nothing, just white noise, there was only you and the primal need of achieving pleasure skin against skin.

Your soft voice, those sweet lips gasping brushing against his ear, he thinks it’s the only time he likes to hear his name being called or actually being aware of himself. With you there’s no Javier running to and from monsters and there’s no brutality or violence.

There’s only your soft hands locked on his neck, fingers curled in his hair and when you smile at him, eyes up the sky, lost in pleasure, he feels good and the world seems a little bit better.

“I even didn’t offer some water before…” he said after he recovers his breath still inside you

“I’ve never had a warmer welcome in my life, Javi, it’s alright” you laugh with legs trembling

“Still” he kissed your wrists and held you close, walking slowly towards the bedroom.

You barely made some small talk before his eyes grew darker, lost in something that chokes him, and he quietly covers you with his big body

“I just need to make love to you...please” he said with his forehead on yours. And here you are, body exhausted and numb, cooling the sweat with the sweet waves of air from the fan.

“I won’t laugh at you” he answers resuming the conversation, you were lost in your thoughts but when you look at him, you see he watches you intently and you believe him

“I mean it’s so cliche how I ended up doing this...it’s ridiculous” you shake your head

None of your clients has ever asked you about how you ended up doing this. None of them are really interested in you anyway, they prefer a fantasy, a character. But not Javi, and that scares you. He sees right through you.

“I wanted to get out of my small town, I had big dreams, big plans” you smile “I came to the city and I tried and tried to succeed but...well, long story short, a friend proposed it once and the money was too tempting”

“What did you want to do in the first place?” Javi approaches the bed. His skin shines against the moonlight, his disheveled hair makes him looks younger

“Now you’re going to really laugh” you cover your face with one of his pillows

“C’mon tell me” he smirks squeezing your tight

“I wanted to be an actress, do novelas, films, everything” you shyly confess. For a moment, you don’t look at him, expecting him to chuckle at your stupid little dream, but seconds pass and he doesn’t

“ I think you could do it” Javi’s hands draw small circle over you hip bones

“You think?” you bite your lip

“I do” he shifts position, resting his back on the bed and you open your legs so he can rest his head over your belly “Would you send me a dedicated picture once you made it?” you brush his hair out of his face and you see he’s smiling

“Of course, To my very first fan, who always believed in me” you wave your hand over the imaginary paper “And a kiss just under it”

“Would frame it and put it in my office...nah” he shakes his head “I put it right here” he motions towards the nightstand “I don’t want my colleagues greasy hands over my picture”you laugh out loud at his comment

“Sure, so you can dream about me” you joke stealing his cigarette and smoking a long drag

Present day

You don’t know how many times he has dreamt about you.

How many times that stupid movie has played in his house late at night, he bought it, foolish at it may seem, he has rewatch every frame, stopping to admire you.

You look happy now, your sweet eyes shine more and he’s happy, really is, that you have made it, but deep down, he wonders, as much as it makes he’s heart ache, Do you think about him? surely you don’t.

Probably you left that part of your life buried somewhere in Colombia. You changed your name, your past, everything, how could you think about him?

You’re probably living your best life, full of glamour, opportunities opening just in front of your eyes. How could you remember him?

You don’t (surely) so he has to content himself with the fiction. He replays that scene where you turn to the camera, smiling

and just for a second, he thinks, he dreams, it’s for him.

#writer wednesday #javier peña fanfic #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña x you #javier peña x f! reader #javier peña fic #javier peña #javier peña smut #Javier Pena #Javier Pena fanfic #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #Pedro Pascal characters fanfiction #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #Narcos #narcos fic #narcos fanfiction

58 notes · View notes

heli0s-writes · 4 years

Text

antisaint*

1.1k words. Erm, dirty talk, bottom!Steve-- also getting finger facefucked, and come-eating? Please stop reading if you are not 18+

The title is from this song by Chevelle 🧡

brooklyn after dark masterlist

Steve’s shield symbolizes the kind of idolatry you want to destroy some nights.

Hijack the ivory points of your lover’s brilliant star and stab him to death with it.

Well, sort of. Maybe just within an inch of his life—a quick reminder that there’s more to him than being humanity’s moral paradigm and savior. That the immeasurable world he’s sworn to can exist in smaller spaces because sometimes he forgets.

It’s fine.

He’s stubborn and righteous but you’re the perfect foil. Proven time and time again to be the only vice in Captain America’s virtuous armor, you’re so deep in his head he never quite sees you coming.

Home late from another impromptu mission, he stills at your presence in the hallway. There’s grime smudged across his cheek and his hair’s awry from his helmet.

“Take it off,” you say coolly, “Everything.”

And his spitfire mouth could argue until hell freezes over—but never with you.

Steve’s bare ass hits the bed not ten seconds later. The candlelit bedroom’s glow paints your skin like a sunset—a goddess of the most devastating kind and he turns mute at how you quickly you unravel him.

He’s transfixed by the way you move—your expression dark and smooth like an inbound storm.

You crawl into his lap. You don’t let him touch you.

“You’re not Captain America here,” you say, voice vibrating down his spine. “Not anyone’s defender here.”

“Is that right?” he stutters, feeling the blood rush straight down, dick flexing against your inner thigh. “What am I, then?”

Still stubborn, he tries it with a smirk.

You lick the slope of his neck and Steve whimpers. Nope.

“You’re nothing,” you shrug, “Other than mine.”

His breath catches in his chest, fire igniting in his belly. Your words, the spark. Your certainty, the gasoline. He’s utterly fucked.

Humanity’s moral paradigm—the pinnacle of strength, but you whittle him down to a trembling boy.

Relenting, Steve nods quietly and you reward him with a kiss. Deep and deliberate while one hand comes up to grab his jaw. Your plush lips contrast your firm hold, and he’s moaning louder than he realizes. That sharp tongue he loves so dearly slips over his, kitten licks balanced by hard sucking. His entire body could melt into the sweet cavern of your mouth.

You lift your hips, letting him spring free before angling just right. You rub against him slow, watching the way his lips part and his eyes glaze over. A few more times—with his cockhead barely catching inside your heat before he pops out—and Steve’s on the verge of losing his goddamn mind.

The pulse in his neck is jumping like a stray flare and his chest is heaving— he’s two hundred pounds of enhanced muscle atrophied under your touch.

The only thing working on him is his dick—and it’s working, alright.

Maybe it’s his job—commanding others. Maybe that’s why he loves it so much.

Maybe it’s just you. His wildest wet dream come to life—filthier than sin with a face like heaven. Loving him so damn hard it makes him stupid.

“Eyes up,” and he tries, but his lids are fluttering. “Say you’re mine, Steve. Mean it.”

“Baby,” he’s not quite sure if he’s even speaking English—or out loud—but he’d do fucking anything to get back inside you. “I’m yours, promise. Swear it —all yours.”

Your finger pushes inside his mouth, hooking over his pretty bottom lip, pressing against the soft inner flesh of his cheek. Steve holds your waist like it’s the only thing keeping him from floating away, drool sliding down his chin as you seize him roughly.

With a devilish smile, you finally sink down, bit by bit—so tight and perfect—rolling your hips. Once. Twice. Three times. Again. Again. Again.

“Yeah?” You croon, “Like that? You like being mine?”

He’s delirious, trying to balance sucking on your fingers and bucking up into your cunt, entire being on the edge of collapsing like a dying star and going supernova. Uncontrolled heat eating him up the harder you ride him, the nastier you talk. He’s whining and whimpering. Stuttering and begging for his life.

You make him powerless. Nothing more than a speck of dust drifting through the infinite vacuum of space. And, god, isn’t that something incredible.

“You’re gonna come, aren’t you, baby?” You wonder sweetly, hardly a hair out of place, completely immaculate and ethereal even as you drive him to the point of oblivion. “You’re all swollen up, Steve. Does it feel good?”

“Ah—ah— ”

“What’s that?” Your finger digs further, adding more until only your thumb and pinky curl around his jaw.

Steve gags, choking lightly and it shouldn’t make him so fucking—hot that you’re fucking his mouth, but he doesn’t care. He’s so close, just a hair-thin line away. His heartbeat is in his throat. His ears. You’ve never looked so fucking beautiful—so otherworldly. He’s a mess—he’s falling apart—you’re everything, everywhere. He could die being ruined by you and goddamn, it’d be fantastic.

Steve Rogers—Captain fucking America—babbling like an infant, obedient and useless in your arms. Fantastic.

You take your hand out of his mouth and lick your own fingers clean, bearing down on him, wet and sticky between your thighs and over both of his. The sound your ass makes hitting his legs scribes itself into every atom in his body.

“Good boy,” you whisper, “Good boys get to come, don’t they?”

“Yes—yes— I’m good, baby. I’m real good.” And this must be how the world was created: stars start colliding right in front of his eyes, wheeling off into pure white explosions. His hands are reverential—calloused palms reading your skin like sacred braille. Every word speaks of devotion.

“Okay, Steve,” you sing, “Let me feel you—give me all of it.”

With a few more frantic thrusts, offbeat rhythms of his hips and breath and Steve shatters entirely, hitting deep, spilling inside of you. He buries his face into your chest, mouth open and gasping against your skin.

His entire body shakes and quivers, and when the earth shackles itself together again, you’re all he sees.

“Fuck,” he pants, burning pink like a newborn, blinking the spots from his vision, “God.” And everything feels brand new—like he’s sloughed it all off—the shield, the uniform, the mantle.

Nothing but you and him, and the universe behind your eyes. Two bodies somehow infinite.

You remind him with your mouth to the shell of his ear, kissing his neck, his jaw, his chin. You remind him with your hand cupping his cheek, your smile like the promise of eternity.

Steve lays you down, your name a prayer overflowing from his lips. He spreads you out like an angel and tastes himself reborn between your thighs.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #smut #reader insert #marvel #fanfiction #mcu

1K notes · View notes

sometimesiwrite · 3 years

Text

In Your Arms, In Your Mind

Helloooo friends! ‘Tis I coming to you with ANOTHER collab with Erica @pressedinthepages. This time, we were inspired by Eskel’s face in this stunning work by @journeythroughunknownlands. Thank you for this incredible piece! Pairing: Eskel x gender-neutral reader

Summary: The trek to Kaer Morhen is a long one with few opportunities for lovers to indulge in one another. When opportunity presents itself in the warm safety of the long-awaited keep, things get spicy. When Eskel worries he’s indulged too much, you’re there to bring him back with gentle reassurance.

Warnings: Smut, related bruising, concern/comfort Check out MY MASTERLIST HERE Check out ERICA’S MASTERLIST HERE

Enjoy!

The golden sun of late afternoon—soon to be setting behind the peaks of the Blue Mountains—streams past the heavy curtains flanking the ancient window of Eskel’s room in Kaer Morhen. The keep is shrouded in a muted, patient silence awaiting the arrival of Eskel’s brothers and their traveling companions for the winter months. Distant sounds of masonry work suggest that Vesemir is diligently working on the near-lost cause of the outer wall. Eskel should be helping. Instead, he’s doing his fair share to contribute to the more immediate sounds of lovemaking that threaten to fill the entire dormitory wing if this keeps up.

It started innocently enough—a hot meal after the final trek up the mountain, then a hot bath while the fire warmed the chilly walls of the room. But your lips were especially luxurious against his, and hands soon found freshly-bathed skin far too enticing to leave un-appreciated. It had been a long journey, and with the cold weather only growing colder, it was no longer the season for starlit lovemaking. So when two lovers arrive at their destination, skin starved of hands and hands of skin, what else is there to do but make love with abandon?

Flecks of dust dance through the beams of sunlight as Eskel gasps up at you, hips rocking with sinful indulgence in rhythm with you, the glide of his girth a blessed, aching punishment for being the miracle that you are. You feel his fingers dimple the soft flesh of your hips and you know he’s relishing the give of you under his hands. You’re only about halfway to as good as it can be and he’s not stopping anytime soon. It’s been too long. Too long without the taste of you, the smell of you, the sight of you—and Gods if you aren’t the most beautiful thing. The sun has shifted, casting an oblique ray across your body, accentuating the graceful, rolling countryside of your torso as it shifts and flexes, guiding his movement within you.

You roll your hips just so and sound escapes Eskel’s body, cut off by another puff of air as his head falls back, barely able to wrap his head around the reality of you. On top of him. Feeling this good. He brings a hand ‘round the back of your neck and pulls you down, brushing his lips over yours as you surround him, and your breath is hot and wet on his face when you let out a moan and slow your rhythm with the new angle. Your bodies adjust as you continue to roll and glide, new sensations blooming to the surface of your walls.

“Gods,” Eskel breathes, wrapping his arms all the way around your back, pressing your bodies closer, determined to feel as much of you around as much of him as possible. “Ho-oh, how’re you so good to me.”

“Because you’re too good to me,” you whisper, and Eskel lets out a throaty groan as he thrusts up and forward, an edge of hungry desperation colouring his reverence. You let out a gasp and try to speak—fuck-shit-oh-gods it’s so good—but your breath is gone. You can barely locate any part of you in relation to anything else: not your hands, not your stomach, not your thoughts. The only thing you can place is Eskel, everywhere. In you, on you, under you. Hitting something deep and devastating as he grits his teeth, holding himself together as your lungs disintegrate and float away like paper confetti.

Even in this position of relative power, you are rendered completely at Eskel’s sweet mercy as he holds you tightly, feeling you completely, vulnerable and exposed to the relentless pleasure currently overwhelming you. But Eskel knows you’ve adjusted to him now. He can tell that there’s more depth for him to find, but it won’t happen from down here. So he slows a little and shifts so expertly, you can’t imagine how he managed it. But the room turns and now you’re below him. Looking up into his eyes as they shimmer with the sunlight still streaming through the window beside you. He’s breathing heavily, and his body is tight with concentration and the effort of control. He wants you, you can see it in his eyes and the way they darken again as he begins to press deeper.

You let out an indulgent whimper and he feels the strings holding him together begin to snap.

But he knows that taking you now for everything you can give him—with everything he has—won’t produce the earth-shattering results he’s been longing to hear tear from your body for the last two weeks. He redirects his impulses, intensifies everything he can and diffuses the rest, pressing, dragging, every muscle in his body refocused for endurance and precision rather than power and speed.

You feel his hands start to tingle on your hips, and your skin calls to him, begging for everything he has, but he tries not to listen too carefully. His mouth, open and gasping, drags over every piece of you he can reach, breathing you into his lungs. His hips jerk as he loses the thread briefly, your breathless moan nearly enough to send him over the edge—and he's dangerously close. Eskel fits the slope of his nose right into the crook of your neck and he feels you start to finally, blissfully, completely meld with him.

His weight rests on top of you as he continues to roll, rippling across the surface of you as he glides effortlessly through your wet heat. Your gasps become more desperate, pulling high in your chest and he feels the texture of you change—now firmer, even deeper than you were just moments ago. He can smell your approaching orgasm and he lets out something guttural, half-growl, half-moan at the responsiveness of your body to his. He feels a shift inside him, too.

Eskel’s pace increases as he chases your release with the search for his own and he's lost in you, wandering senselessly through the melted solder of his mind. He can’t find it in himself to worry. He holds tight, feeling the strands snap one after another, his ears aching to hear you shatter beneath him as he begins to thrust harder, faster, with wicked precision that sends a flare of heat down the backs of your arms as you feel the wave begin to crest

You arch into him, his chest pushing firm against yours as the world brightens and then—goes black. Everything falls away, leaving you raw and exposed to the man above you and you’re still so impossibly full with him, even as he threatens to fall apart himself. You keen and whine against Eskel’s neck and he clutches you tightly, one hand fisted in your hair, the other more than likely leaving bruises on your flank as he tries to bury himself under your skin—weeks spent together but not nearly close enough finally made up for.

The sounds of your approaching climax have Eskel fraying at the seams, desperately trying to hold himself together so that he can come with you—a shout into the crook of your shoulder as his thrusts turn erratic, and you feel yourself clench around him in a way you haven’t before, holding him tight as he buries deep and spills. And gods, you can feel the texture change in you as he drips, thick and warm along your walls and around him.

Your breath comes in hot whispers against the pretty pink flush of Eskel’s neck, and when the world finally filters back into Eskel’s mind, and he is painfully aware of how tight he is still gripping you. He can feel the blood flowing under the pads of his fingers, under your soon-to-be bruised skin. You hum contentedly, but he doesn’t hear you. His heart in his throat as he swallows back the sick feeling of possibly having hurt you.

Eskel releases his grip almost immediately and scans your placid, dewy body as you pant and tremble beneath him. Panic starts to bubble in his chest. He swallows again. Your eyes are still closed, but he feels a little relief to see the hint of a smile tug at the corners of your mouth and eyes.

"Love? Talk to me, please."

You blink open one eye with a quirk of your brow, letting the smile pull your lips up. “Eskel, you just absolutely —” And then it hits you, the creases on his forehead, the tight forward slump of his shoulders, the emptiness of terror that so rarely decorates Eskel’s eyes. You reach up, smoothing your fingers down the harsh planes of his cheek, doing your best to chase away the darkness that dares threaten to pull him under.

"Did-did I…? Are you…?"

"Hushhh now," you coo, pressing a delicate finger to his lips and coaxing him back down to the pillow. "I made you a promise, didn't I? That I would tell you the minute I feel something I don’t want. And you know that I would never, not a single time, lie to you, yes?"

Eskel nods and moves a piece of hair away from your forehead, his voice husky and vulnerable in your ear, “I can’t shake the feeling that… you have bruises.” He rubs his fingers over the marks on your hip and you can feel his hands trying to take it all back, wipe them away.

“And have you ever considered, my darling,” you murmur, taking his hand away to kiss the calloused tips of his fingers, “that I might enjoy having your touch linger on me after we’ve pulled apart and the day has turned over again?”

Your witcher traces the purpling fingerprints on your hip again, his brow furrowed in thought. "You like these," he states—as much for himself as to confirm with you.

"Mmhmm," you nod and kiss his shoulder. "It reminds me of the passion we share, how close you hold me to you when everything falls away."

"I never thought of it that way..." he drifts off back into the foggy recesses of his mind and you know he's blaming a part of himself that only exists because the rest of the world has put it there.

“Eskel,” you press a kiss to his chest, pulling his molten gaze back to yours, “don‘t go there, stay with me. Keep me in your arms and your mind. I want you, all of you. As you are. And I want you to have me in return.”

"And you'll tell me if I—"

"Always. I promise, I will tell you if something is too much."

"Even if—"

"Even if one or both of us is getting close. Come on, lie down with me. Don't linger on unhelpful thoughts. I've told you I like it, and you know I love you. Let that be enough."

Eskel sighs, sinking back into the embrace of the blankets around him and your arms encircling him. “You’re always enough. More so. More than I think I deserve sometimes.”

“And?” You raise a brow, and you know that he knows that you hate when he talks like that.

“And,” he laughs, “you’re helping me see that I’m enough for you.”

You kiss his forehead, "Good. Now maybe one of these days I'll be able to convince you that you're so much more than I ever could have imagined finding in this lifetime."

"Hmmm this all sounds very advanced."

"Not at all, it's easy," you say, lazily tracing a finger through his soft dusting of chest hair. "You just have to take my word for it."

He breathes deeply and pulls you closer, falling back into the completeness of everything as he feels your pulse slow against his chest. The sweet smell of your sweat mingles with the leftovers of your arousal and the sharp musk of your releases.

And just like that, he slips into meditation. Completely unintentionally. He doesn’t sleep—that would mean losing this feeling. Instead, he settles into it so deeply, it’s all there is. Just you. His place of power.

You feel the thrum of his chaos find its place under his skin, tingling and rumbling through his bones. It’s a foreign feeling, almost frightening, but it’s also warm and welcome, a part of your lover that you’ve never experienced this intensely, this intimately—the timelessness of him, the ancientness of his magic. You nestle impossibly close to him, holding him while he allows himself this rest, and allow yourself the same.

————————

@criminaly-supernatural @belalugosisdead @the-space-between-heartbeats @thirstyforred @iloveyouyen @enkelikauneus

#gender-neutral reader #eskel x y/n #eskel fic #eskel smut #The witcher #the witcher eskel

202 notes · View notes

creativeashproductions · 3 years

Text

A Distant Dream I // Luke Patterson

Summary: In 1994 seventeen year old Luke Patterson had once again tried to ask out the girl that held his heart. With the belief he would see the younger Mercer girl the next morning he decides wait to confess his feelings. Only to have soft music bewitched the reader into an antique wardrobe with lots of history.

Warnings: Swearing, strict parents, missing persons, cops, violence, death, and angst

Words: 3k

A/N: Finished one series, starts a new one then gets hit with a dream of a crossover with Narnia and JATP. My brain needs to stop.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX/ASK PLEASE!

Masterlist

Patterson Home, 1994

The teen’s hands laced up her boots with her mind stuck on the successful dinner with the boy situated on the couch. His eyes lost in daydreams of the girl he had shared a sweet goodbye with, seeing her at school felt like it would be years. Luke Patterson was slowly building up to ask out the girl of his dreams.

You glanced over at the messy-haired brunette you had known for years through your older brother Alex. A year separated you from Luke and Alex, but it didn't matter to the bond you had with them.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Reggie’s picking us up.” You waved at the seventeen-year-old teenager cupping his cheek in one hand.

Unable to stay seated Luke rushed to tug you into an abrupt hug before just as quickly letting you go. Cheeks dusted pink Luke’s lips parted to form the words that could make one of his dreams come true.

"Would you…" Luke trailed off, feeling the confidence falter at the hopeful look in your pretty eyes, "Tell Alex that he still has that movie?"

The hope in your chest fluttered before it shuddered once more as Luke retreated from asking his question. With a nod, your fingers opened the door to walk down the streets to own home.

With one last wave Luke watched as you disappeared behind the trees in his front yard with the promise he’d ask her out tomorrow.

That chance wouldn’t happen.

That hopeful night in 1994 was the last night Y/N Mercer was seen. The night that it all started to fall apart in Sunset Curve’s lives.

The sword was thrust in the air as victorious cheers sounded over the hillside filled with the war's casualties. Chest heaving from the fight she had won against one of the Boggles in the White Witch's army. Your eyes scoured the battlefield for your friends you had made in the short time you had been in Narnia.

Across a great distance, you found Peter already beaming across at you as the adrenaline of winning overtook you. The happiness wavered when you saw the prone body of Edmund in the grass.

“No!” You shouted racing in the armour to the three remaining Pevensie children gathering around the youngest male sibling. The breath leaving Edmund’s body in the presence of his siblings he had made up with.

Let’s go back a few weeks to when your most significant issue had been the feelings for Luke Patterson. To when your decisions didn't include making battle plans with your new friends and avenging the death of Aslan; the talking lion.

Moments after leaving Luke’s place.

There was something about the night that soothed you from the disappointment in your body as being let down. Alex had been telling you for so long that Luke had feelings for you, but every-time you believed him it didn’t happen.

Once more, you had left the Patterson home with knowing if Luke liked you or not. Continuing to walk, you halted at hearing something. Soft music so unlike what you heard blasting from Alex's room or the gigs you attended to support the band. It was reminiscent of the music box that used to put you to sleep as a child.

"Hello?" You asked, shifting the beanie that slid on down your forehead a little. Your eyes peering around the silent streets.

The music grew louder as it entranced you into following the sound to a dilapidated building situated near older stores. So taken by the music you didn’t question why the door to the store was unlocked nor how a golden light shined from one of the antique wooden furniture.

“Come along.” A voice whispered from inside the imposing wardrobe.

Your fingers shook as you slowly pulled the door open with a creak that blasted around the darkroom. The first thing you noticed was the old fur coats hanging in the small wardrobe. The door closed behind you with a click, the golden glow dying as any suggestion she had been in the store disappeared.

The breath caught in your throat as the temperature dropped and somehow you found snow inside and trees. The crunch of snow beneath your boots surprising you but not as much as your hands pushed the branches away. Vision no longer obstructed you discovered a new world of winter and sunlight.

Standing not too far away you found four bodies of varying height staring around in wonder just as you had. The group turned on their heels at the sound of your boots crunching the snow.

The tallest of the group had honey blonde hair neatly cut and styled off his pale forehead revealing a startling pair of blue eyes. He was at least six feet tall as your estimation. His own widened at the sight of you before you took in the three other people with him—an older brunette girl standing over a younger brunette female. Set a small distance away was a young teenage boy appearing standoffish.

“I don’t suppose that is another one of your friends, Lucy?" The teen asked glancing down at the youngest of the quartet.

"No, but Peter maybe she's friends with Mr. Tumnus!" The little girl exclaimed already making her way to you when the other girl stopped her.

The next thing you noticed was their odd choice in clothing, the older boy Peter wore a light grey button-down with his dark slacks held up by suspenders. Not a single piece of clothing you recognized on people in your life.

“Lucy, she’s a stranger in a strange place.”

“This is Narnia.” Lucy stressed pouting, “Susan, it’s not polite.”

Susan's hand loosened at the reminder of manners, but with that, Susan pushed her little sister behind her. Peter stepped in front of his family to walk over to you.

"Hello, are you from around here?" Peter asked, coming closer, "I'm Peter Pevensie. This is my younger sisters Lucy and Susan. The boy over there is my little brother Edmund.”

The scowl on Edmund’s face twister further, “I’m not your little brother! I’m thirteen. Lucy’s the baby!”

“Edmund!” Susan admonished with a furrowed brow before stepping up with Peter, "What is this place?"

"Look, lady. I was walking home from my friend's place and heard this music. It's a little foggy, but I followed into an antique store." You spoke glancing at the winter wonderland that made you question if you had taken drugs.

“You’re American!” Lucy gasped rushing closer, “Why did you come to England? It’s it safer from the war in America?”

You stepped back in confusion, “I’m Y/N. War? In England? When did that happen?”

All four of the Pevensie’s stumbled back in shock at hearing that someone of your age being unaware. Susan finally took the time to take in your appearance a stark contrast to the modest, loose red and green tartan knee-length skirt. Instead, you wore a mid-thigh red plaid skirt over sheer black tights, but the most scandalous part of your outfit for Susan was your high neck black top that revealed your midriff.

“Are you daft?” Edmund questioned, stepping closer, his dark eyes pinning his angst on you, "We got evacuated from London because of it!”

Your eyebrows raised in response to the very posh accent berating you even as he was shoved back by Peter.

“You really haven’t heard about it?” Susan asked, confusing you further, but slowly it came together in your mind.

As a Mercer, you had expectations placed upon your shoulders to keep your family’s reputation in place. One of the expectations was academic excellence for your parents to boast about among their friends. To get them off your back, you studied hard with Alex in order to get away with the way you dressed and Alex being in a rock band.

Your eyes scanned the individuals' outfits before you while calculating the years London, England, was evacuated by war. A faint memory of sitting in your history class sparked on the action to evacuate mostly children. Operation Pied Piper. World War II.

"Can we go to Mr. Tumnus?" Lucy inquired, bringing her older siblings' attention to her shivering in the cool air.

“But we can’t go hiking in the snow dressed like this! Let alone Y/N in her clothing.” Susan protested also rubbing her cold arms. Peter simply strode back into the wardrobe, grabbing an armful of the coats still hanging in there.

“No, but I’m sure the professor won’t mind us using these.” Peter spoke, handing out a coat first to his siblings before turning to face you with a smile, "Would like you to join us?"

Your eyes turned to the tree hiding the door of the wardrobe to the place you knew. To return to the Mercer household where it felt stifling under the watchful eye of your parents. To a house that judged you for your dreams that went further than your parents' plans. To a boy that threatened to cradle your heart or shattered it to pieces with only a few words.

"I'd love to join you." You spoke sealing your fate by grasping a coat, but Peter stepped around to help you put it on.

The feel of his hands pushing the collar further rose a dust pink blush on your cheeks at the care he displayed. His blue gaze held firmly with yours before he shook it off with a throat cleared.

“Anyway Susan, if you think about it logically, we’re not even taking them out of the wardrobe.” Peter finished shoving the very last coat to Edmund to draw out the young boy’s discomfort.

"But that's a girl's coat!" Edmund whined offended at the fur pushed into his torso. His offended feeling rising at Peter's confirmation that he knew that too.

A cheeky smile expanded at the interaction that reminded you of Christmas mornings with Alex on who got to open the first gift. The sibling fighting that was never really as vicious as they felt like at the moment.

“To Mr. Tumnus’!” Lucy exclaimed skipping ahead of the group with Edmund trailing behind.

The Mercer home, 1994

Luke woke up with a feeling that last night had been his last chance to admit his feelings for his best friend’s sister. It felt like something had drastically changed from the previous smile he saw from you before you turned that corner. He made himself a promise he wouldn't break to shout his love from the rooftops just for you.

He couldn't wait for Reggie to pick him up, so he quickly grabbed his backpack to race out the front door. His plate barely in the sink before he was racing down the streets to Alex and your place. The grin of excitement faltered at the sight of a police car parked at the Mercer house's curb.

Mrs. Mercer sobbing in her husband's neck as a forlorn man, held his hat in his hands as he continued speaking. Luke's world lost colour for a split second before he found the blonde drummer collapsed on his knees, clutching his hair in his hands.

Then the colour leeched from Luke’s life as the once thought impossible happened.

"Alex, what's going on?"

“You!" Mrs. Mercer shouted, hearing the voice of the teenager that had taken something from the woman, "What did you do to her!”

Luke stumbled back at the heated glare from the mess of a woman so unlike the posh made-up woman. Alex was quick to push by his parents to stand shakily next to his best friend with splotchy red skin and swollen eyes.

"Luke didn't do anything! I saw her on the way home when I went to dropped that movie off at Luke's place." Alex smoothly lied to his parents saving Luke the exhaustion of a police station, and it would be the one lie that would go to their graves with them.

“My baby.” Mrs. Mercer screamed hands digging into the perfectly mowed green grass uncaring of the stains on her once immaculate elegant pearl satin slacks.

Turning robotic Alex ushered Luke down the street to the Wilson home they had turned into the band centre. Luke followed like a puppy into the open garage where Alex promptly collapsed into a fit of sobs and heavy breathing.

"She's gone." Alex cried, leaning into the sudden body hugging him with soft whispers in his ear, "Luke, Y/N didn't come home last night. None of her friends have seen her. My little sister’s missing!”

And just like that the world no longer made sense to the seventeen-year-old guitarist. The next year dragged by with running away from home. When Luke wasn’t writing music or sleeping in the studio, he was on the streets.

Clutching his favourite picture of you as he walked the streets asking if anyone had seen you while avoiding his own missing person’s poster.

Cair Paravel, Narnia

The sun rose over the land you had come to love and protect for as long as you could remember. Sometimes you hoped you’d see Aslan in the distance, but he had been gone ever since the coronation. The feeling of missing him shifted to something, no someone else you missed. It felt like a dream, and when the dream started to become clear, a hand brushed against your hip.

"Hello, darling," Peter spoke brushing a kiss on your cheek before his silky hair shifted on your skin to rest atop your own head.

A soft smile overcoming your features as his ring clinked against your own and you turned in your private chambers to stare up at him. Your hand brushing the stubble that had grown. Your eyes taking in his tanned skin from riding in the sun. For a second you swore his blue eyes flickered to hazel green.

Sometimes when you slept, you dreamt of a time where everything was different from what you knew here. Of a time when your heart fluttered for a man with hazel green eyes and a curtain of messy dark brunette hair.

“Are you alright?” Peter questioned leaning back to scan your features. It wasn't often, but he was sure you wandered off in mind.

“I’m feeling perfect.” You replied turning to wrap your arms around his shoulders, “I’m standing the arms of my King-“

“You looked beautiful tonight.” For a second, your personal bed-chamber melted away into a large room with poorly made decorations and lines on the floor of different colours. Instead of standing in Peter's arms, you found yourself moving to the music in another's arms. The same faceless person in your dreams.

"Maybe it's time we give Narnia an heir." With Peter's words, the world returned to the way it had left a bitter taste in your mouth, "What do you think of the name Luke?"

The name choked you with emotion.

Alex jogged into his sister's room, huddled over her white desk reciting information of her exam the next morning. His blue eyes lit up as he hurried to your side.

"What do you want, Alex?" You sighed turning to look at your brother with disinterest only wanting to ace this test. That way, your parents could rub in in their friends face on beating Sarah with the highest grade.

“I joined the band.” Alex beamed bringing your attention fully on him in surprise, “I’m tired of pretending to like classical music and wearing a suit that chokes me. I’m tired of having to play dress up in fancy clothes when what I want is that big pink sweater from that thrift shop. I’m tired of looking like they think a Mercer should look like. I wanna look like Alex, like myself.”

Your lips turned up at the passion ignited in Alex at the mention of three friends that had quickly become family. In welcoming Alex, they had welcomed you into the group as well. Luke being the closest friend you had that didn't care what you wore or what you said.

"You should come. You've never stayed to listen to them rehearse. Luke would love it if you came." Alex teased poking your side in the pale pink silk blouse and white knee-length skirt.

You were tired of pretending as well. You wanted to be the girl wearing a band shirt and ripped jeans. You want to wear what you wanted instead of what your parents expected. Instead of voicing a reply, you moved to the walk-in closet of designer clothing. At the very back hidden from sight was your chosen attire. In seconds you changed into one of Alex’s old band shirts tied in the back for a cropped shirt and your favourite pants.

A swipe of rebellious red lipstick to finish the look you followed Alex to his room with the large tree. You had no clue if the feeling of butterflies was from rebelling against your parents or seeing the teenage boy slowly stealing your heart.

“Not Luke.” You whispered to the man you had matured from an angsty sixteen-year-old to a twenty-five-year-old.

“Lucy may think we named him after her.” Peter joked retreating as the door to the chambers was knocked on, “I believe we owe Edmund a birthday feast.”

“I’d rather not live another year of his complaining.” You moaned lifting the skirt of your long midnight blue dress to exit the room. All thoughts of a former life disappearing like smoke once more.

King Peter and Queen Y/N took their time to the dining hall where the rest of their family was patiently waiting. Susan and Lucy sharing a smile at the topic that had been flooding the kingdom since the royal wedding two years ago. Narnia was wondering when High King Peter and his Queen would proudly show off their firstborn.

"About time. I thought we'd enter another hundred years before you two came." Edmund spoke from his chair, but instead of the same tone as the boy that first entered Narnia, it was teasing.

"Shove off and eat your cake." Peter laughed, keeping his hand encased in yours. All of them at ease with the only worry on the conflict that threatened the royals from the Ettinsmoor nation.

Part Two

Tag List (PLEASE SEND AN INBOX TO BE ADDED! I CANNOT GUARANTEE YOU WILL BE ON THE LIST VIA POST COMMENTS!)

@safehavenmuse @siennanoelle01 @whiterose291 @mell-bell @blackhood5sos @ficrecsideblog @ifilwtmfc @deadpoolgirl23 @crappy-unicorn @sunsetcurve-h @elioelioeli0 @lovesanimals @popcrone818 @lolychu @deepsleepnat @tenaciousperfectionunknown @aunicornmademedoit @just-a-writer-here @simp4reggie @faithiebrock01 @overlyhypedup @differentsoulrascalsalad @aesthetic-lyss @versaceapa @carleywhittaker @lostgirl219 @itsalexx21 @elllaoo4 @merxxleighann @mediocremunge @fantomlovesjuke4ever @dpaccione @oswin05 @kaylinfayezink @aberette13 @faithie-brock-gillespie01 @eharvey0218 @overlyhypedup @benstormy @auriandthepussicats @sarcasticsagittarius1998 @whothefuckstolemykeds @siriuswvrld @princessvader15 @xoxbloodreinaxox @heimdoodle @joshy-obx @lovesanimals @oopsiedoopsie23 @am3l1a-24 @flying-solo-without-you @jaskiers-sweetkiss @lostrandomfangirln @must-be-a-weasley-92 @jatp-holland @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch @dxlanhxlland @dasexydevitt13 @ifilwtmfc @arianagrandes-things @kinda-really-lost @marinettepotterandplagg @ssprayberrythings @morgandamrose @thedarkqueenofavalon @zukoshonourr @crybabyddl @spooky-season-bitch @kcd15 @morganayennefertyrell @magnet-girl @all-in-fangirl @kinda-really-lost @tenaciousperfectionunknown @badwolf00593 @blowakissbabe @talksoprettyjjx @thesweetestsinner @kaitieskidmore1 @writerinlearning @aiofheavenandhell @sageellsworth05 @link-102 @thesweetestsinner @merceret @imsydneywalker @sunsetcurvej @nicoledawson5604 @merceret

#luke patterson imagines #luke patterson x reader #peter pevensie imagines #narnia #jatp fanfic #julie and the phantoms imagines #charlie gillespie imagines #luke patterson #narnia imagines #peter pevensie #caitsy and ash productions

160 notes · View notes

writerwrites · 3 years

Text

Yuánfèn | 02

Ch. 2: Retrouvailles: “An overwhelming feeling of happiness caused by seeing someone after a long separation.”

Summary: When you’ve lost everything and try to run away from your problems, you keep finding a way back to the one person who completely understands. Can you make another person happy with a broken heart?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader Chapter Word Count: 3.3k Chapter Warnings: Smut - 18+ Only - Minors DNI, male masturbation, one night stand mentioned but not detailed, slow burn, grief, fluff

Series Masterlist | Series Playlist | Complete Masterlist

The first week Steve took it slow, only texting you when you texted first or if he hadn’t heard from you at all. He’d taken your advice, balancing his time between preparing the team for another altercation with the Maximoff twins and finding out as much as he could about them. It was a welcome distraction from the lack of news on his hunt for the Winter Soldier. Natasha was the only one that seemed to notice that he would periodically glance at his watch or his phone and go quiet for a moment before getting back to work. When she finally cornered him, he felt like he should have seen it coming. Arms akimbo and eyebrow quirked, she called him out with no hesitation, “You’ve got a secret.”

“Don’t we all?” Steve could immediately feel the regret in challenging her, busying himself with packing up his bag to head to his room and shower after a long morning of training. Nat didn’t hesitate to follow suit, tagging along with her own bag as she took long strides to keep up with him, even slipping into the elevator before he could. “How’s the search for the Maximoff twins going?”

Nat stood in front of the panel before he could select a floor. “Who have you been texting? Finally ask that SHIELD agent out, Sharon, or is the moping about a certain fossil?” She raised an eyebrow, her fingers tapping her arm impatiently.

Sighing, Steve reached behind her and hit the button. “Neither. I’ve just got a lot on my plate.” Before she could make another snarky comment, he asked. “Clint went home. Did you check in on him?” Though he didn’t use the tone of encouraging her to mind her own business, as he respected the effort she was putting in to build their friendship, he couldn’t help but hope she’d drop the subject.

“Yeah, I’ve checked in. Clint’s good, just like Doc said he’d be. Cho’s kind of a genius and it’s a relief to know that there’s someone that can piece us mere mortals back together when we’re out there saving the world with you.” Steve nodded as he listened, like a captain listening to a report on one of his troops, but his shoulders went ridged with her comment about Dr. Cho. She reminded him too much of Tony and not enough of Dr. Erskine. Luckily, it went unnoticed as she stepped out of the elevator with him and they walked toward their rooms.

There weren’t many memories in Steve’s life, even before the serum, where things simply went black. Taking a beating from his brainwashed best friend was one of them. Steve could picture the metal arm pulling back, the sting of pain as the bones in his face shattered over and over, and could even recall the conversation between swings, but he knew there were moments that were just blank from the concussion- especially after Bucky pulled him from the water. The fading image of him walking away, the ache of being put onto a stretcher, the gentle touch of small hands on his swollen face as the hum of medical machinery tried to pull him back to reality. It didn’t happen for days, but there were moments when he could still hear her talking to him or someone else in the room and always gave his hand three small squeezes before saying her goodbyes.

Steve had been in his head, remembering the music that woke him up and Sam waiting there for him. They’d stopped at Steve’s door, closest to the elevator, and Natasha pretended not to notice how quiet he’d been until she finally added, “Clint’s probably going to take another week before coming back to work, but we’re going out for drinks tonight. Are you thinking about coming with us this time? Might help you clear your head.”

“I’ll think about it.” It was a surprisingly genuine response. He didn’t need to get drunk to have a good time with friends and knew Sam could use the break from hunting a ghost and was itching to see Nat again. There was no doubt in Steve’s mind that if he said yes that Kristen from Statistics would be there and he wasn’t going to open that door, let alone walk through it.

“Aren’t you full of surprises today.” With a slight smirk she kept walking toward her room, calling back, “We’re heading out at eight. Take a nap old guy.”

By the time he was alone in the shower, the idea of going out with the team seemed all the more appealing. Regardless of Natasha still trying to set him up with random colleagues. He was lonely and reaching one of those breaking points of needing to find some comfort to balance out a minute sense of normalcy to his bizarre life, be it good conversation or bad sex. The water cascaded down his toned body and he brushed away the beads of dew and bubbles of soap that trailed down the lines of his muscles before reaching for himself. A part of him that was still very much stuck in the 1940’s hated this need, always feeling some level of shame in finding comfort in the palm of his hand. Typically, these moods resulted in an act of non-sexual frustration, a stress reliever that was easiest to address with his fist and a punching bag.

He told himself that he wasn’t the kind of person to think of someone in particular that way during the solitary act. When he did ‘indulge’, his thoughts had always trailed back to the singular heated kiss with Peggy Carter. But now, with one arm on the tiled wall and the other stroking his length, Steve took an uncommonly slow pace and his mind went to the little things that he’d thought about over and over throughout the week. Small warm hands on his skin, her hand in his. How small would her hands look wrapped around him? How soft would she feel? The smell of her hair and the way she clung to him in a simple hug. Did she know how warm she felt as she held on so tightly to him? Steve gripped himself more tightly, strokes still slow and steady, as he worked out the loneliness with a twist of his wrist. Thoughts passing from little moments and his own stolen glances. The sound of her little hums when she was thinking or satisfied with a solution she’d come up with, how she always bit her lip when she was in a room full of people. Then there was the way she held her breath every time she managed to make eye contact with him as his hands moved over the lace panties she'd passed him to pack. Was she always wearing something like that under her scrubs? Did she do this, think about him getting off to the thought of her in them? The thought of the doctor slipping her hand between her thighs while she wore nothing but lace, scrolling through their messages, and thinking of him finished the soldier off. A long deep groan of her name echoed in the bathroom as he made a mess of the shower wall and floor.

Steve was panting, exhausted but satisfied, as the water washed all evidence down the drain. Slowly, he started to realize what he’d done, but the familiar weight of guilt couldn’t settle in as he realized he wanted something other than a past he couldn’t have. As he dried off, Steve tried to rationalize the thought away, they’d had a nice moment between two colleagues and she was undeniably pretty. It was easy for his mind to drift there, he thought, to think about someone who was naturally beautiful and kind when they were so wholly unaware of it. As he got dressed, Steve put a pin in it, telling himself that even if there was a little spark, she needed a friend. That thought alone seemed to settle the decision to go out or not for him. He chose to drag Sam along for Nat’s sake and make the most of it all.

Sam and Nat were hitting it off well, making Steve wonder what was really going on between her and Clint. The pair of them together had been a force and, despite not feeling ready to date- especially someone as modern as Lilian-with-a-lip-piercing from Accounting, he found himself heading out with her for the night. She was chatty and outgoing, and he found some relief in her questions about his past or job. It stopped him from having to open up on a deeper level when that wasn’t what they were doing. What they were doing was rough and exhausting. She was vocal about what she wanted; hair pulled, ass spanked, fast thrusts, and a firm no kissing rule. He obliged, getting his pleasure from the sounds of her own and his name on her lips, but by the third round she was exhausted and he was left thinking about how he’d never made love to a woman.

Slipping out of Lilian’s place with less awkwardness than he’d expected, Steve checked his phone. He still hadn’t heard from you all day, and it was 2 am in New York, which meant a new morning for you in Spain. He wondered if he should’ve asked Sam for an update on Bucky at the bar, but hesitated to reach out and ask at this hour. Despite socializing and the workout he’d just had, he was too in his head to go to sleep. Spinning his keys around his finger he found himself riding his bike over to the small, quiet apartment with books and a hungry fish.

As if you knew he’d turned up in your space, he heard his text tone just as he was screwing the top back onto the fish food. “I know you said that if I needed anything, to just ask. Probably didn’t expect a text this early and I’m guessing you’re probably asleep… this is so dumb and a big ask, but…” Steve stared at the screen, eyebrows drawn together as he wondered if the smartphone had eaten a text or had some feature that shortened longer messages that he didn’t know how to open. He watched the typing bubbles pop up again and waited, taking a seat at one of the two bar stools at your kitchen counter, the other containing a pile of your neatly stacked mail from the week. “I know I didn’t think I’d get through the goodbyes alone, but I managed. Thanks for the encouragement. It's everything else that I realized I just can’t do alone. The packing… all the pictures. There’s so many memories and I can’t take everything back to my place in New York- my place is just too small.”

Steve clicked the ‘call’ icon and waited for you to pick up on the other end. He thought about his mother’s funeral and how Bucky had been there for him, told him he knew he could manage alone but didn’t have to. His stomach twisted with emotion and then the call went to voicemail.

You didn’t expect him to see your panicked messages until later in the morning. You sat there, runny nose and bleary eyed, staring at the name on your screen. Five minutes, just staring, no text response, no new call- and then he was back, a FaceTime call this time. Pulling your hood over your head so he couldn’t see how disheveled you were, wiping your face on your sleeve, you answered with your face hidden mostly between your knees where you rested your chin and the hood. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.” The apology that excluded the ‘I’m sorry’ was still very obviously an apology.

“You didn’t.” You were unconvinced, his hair was a little mussed, clothes wrinkled. He could tell that it seemed like you hadn’t fully thought through what you were going to ask of him, so he offered up a different question.“What do you have left to do in Spain? We’ve managed to stay out of trouble over here, just for you.”

The soldier tried to study your expression, noticing the glimmer in your eyes that wasn’t just from the sunrise. “I have to pack up what I want to take home. I was thinking I could get a scanner and digitize the pictures, but I don’t know how long that will take.” You let out a puffed up sigh, “I don’t think I have the heart to sell the place, but I’m so bad at taking vacations that it seems like a waste to keep it.”

“Don’t sell it. If your gut is telling you to keep it, go with your gut. There are other options, AirBnB or renting it out.” You sniffled, burying your face further in your arms and legs, leaving Steve to stare at the view behind you. “I know I’m getting a sideways view here, but it looks really beautiful.”

That managed to squeeze a small smile out of you as you nodded and turned the phone toward the balcony to give yourself a moment to wipe away the tears and snot once more. “Yeah, under any other circumstances it would be a proverbial paradise. You probably need a vacation more than me.”

“You’re probably right.” Steve laughed softly, trying to coax you out of what looked like the tail end of a lot of crying. “Send me the location, I’m curious what’s around the place.”

With a long hum you sent him your location. “Not going to send Stark tech to stalk me, are you?”

“I’m sure if Tony wanted to keep tabs on you he was already doing it.” Steve clicked on the marker and looked around the place, its stone streets and little shops. “Doesn’t look like there’s any modern shops, as cute as all these little places are. Where are you going to find what you need to scan the pictures?”

“Oh, I hadn’t thought that far ahead. Just using my phone’s camera, I guess.” You looked at him as you watched the colors reflect off his face, blues and greens that mirrored the same flecks of color in his eyes. He probably didn’t even realize how beautiful he could look just staring at a phone. You relaxed a little, having someone to talk to for the first time in a week and let out a quiet yawn. “Is 8 am too early for a nap?”

Steve laughed and your face ached as you nearly smiled again. He bit his bottom lip, tempted to tell you that it was nice to see you smiling when he knew your heart was hurting, but he could already hear how cheesy it sounded and instead, chose banter. “Is 2 am too early to still be awake?”

“Go to bed. You know the second that you all even think you know where the twins are you’ll be on a Quinjet to find them. You can’t be pulling all nighters, even if you’re a super soldier. Doctor’s orders.” You added with a small smirk.

“Even if I headed back to the Tower this very minute, I bet I’d still beat Nat back. I think she left the bar with my friend, Sam.”

You knew Sam, just a little from one brief patch up. He had the same charm Steve had, clever and driven. “Nat and Sam? Good for her. He seems like a great guy and he could keep her on her toes.” With his phone so close to his face you couldn’t help but wonder, “Wait, it’s too quiet for you to be at a bar. Steven Grant Rogers, are you FaceTiming me from the bathroom of an O.N.S.?”

A part of you wanted to laugh, the thought of Steve just sleeping with some random person from a bar. Another part of you, the one that had a hint of a crush on the sweet guy who helped you when you were desperately in need of a friend, felt a pang of jealousy. “I’m not sure what an O.N.S. is, but I’m actually at yours feeding your nameless fish and named plants. You really got to figure out a name for him before I do.”

Somehow, a smile found your face, this big hero wanting to name a fish and zipping over to your place to feed him at 2 am. “If you’re too tired to head back to the tower, you can crash at my place. It’s late, you look like you could fall asleep at any moment. The bed’s clean, towels are in the bathroom cabinet, and coffee and it’s fixings are right over the pot. I’m not fancy enough for a Keurig, sorry.”

You watched him stop scrolling, his eyes meeting yours as you rambled. He didn’t look tired, he looked disheveled but perfect, as always, but it was cute to see him try to flatten out his hair nevertheless. “You forgot about the books.”

“I thought that was a given.” You stuck your tongue out before yawning one more time. “I’m serious though, best to stay off the road if you’re tired. Besides, the bills are paid even though no one’s there to use anything. I’ll probably be gone another week.”

Steve sighed, not in some defeatist way of you being right but, to your surprise at the mention of how much longer you would be gone, “One more week…”

“Feels like I’ve been gone for months.” You looked away, eyes stinging as the weight of your reality settled on your shoulders again. There was no one left in this world to actually miss you. The truth was that despite being in this beautiful place, you couldn’t help but feel all the more hollow and alone in it. If it wasn’t for the little check ins you would’ve never managed to drag yourself through the house, to the lawyers, or out to the shops to eat. “I’m not texting you too much am I?”

“Not at all.” He replied quickly, then worried it might have been too fast. He could tell you were off somewhere else, wondering if you heard him or if it even mattered. The way you clung to him just a few feet away from where he currently sat, a tight hug now in the forefront of his mind. Before he knew what he was saying, the thought spilled out. “I wish I could give you another hug. I know it’s not easy to do this alone.”

The confession choked you up, sniffling you nodded, “I wish you were here to give me a hug too. A1 hug game, big guy.” Despite the tacked on joke, tears silently spilled from your cheeks and you were eager to get off the phone so he didn’t have to hear the incoming wave of heavy breathless weeping. “Get some sleep, Steve. I’ll keep texting signs of life.”

He nodded, eyebrows knit together with concern and curiosity, “We’ll catch up soon, darling. Goodnight.”

Steve took you up on the offer, showering and climbing into your bed somewhere around 3 am with one of the other books that had been stacked on your bedside table. He hardly comprehended a single word, replaying the conversation as he drifted into a heavy sleep, overwhelmed by the sense of happiness in just seeing your face through a screen as he was surrounded by the comforting scent of you. For the first time since seeing Bucky, he didn’t dream of his best friend falling off the train or the dance he never had.

A/N: Thank you for reading! I would love feedback from you. Do you think these two miss each other? Are they crushing or just some horny adults? We shall see, we shall see!

Also, if it wasn’t obvious: In this house we stan bisexual Cap and ship Sam x Nat over Bruce x Nat.

As my followers know I have an obscenely demanding job, but I always try my best to keep you posted on if there will be a delay in a chapter posting. This series should be posting every Sunday until it finishes. Also, while I do keep Reader vague, I’m a Latina writer and I write fics I want to read.

Divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics

I will be reblogging with tags, send an ask if you’d like to be added either to the series or to my overall tag list.

#fic: steve rogers #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #writer: writerwrites

60 notes · View notes

talkfastromance4 · 3 years

Text

5. Trigger--Ashton Irwin ‘Lovers in a Song’ series

a/n: The final installment is here! I’m so sorry for the delay but I kept bouncing back concepts on how I wanted it to end. This is a rollercoaster. You’re probably going to hate me then love me, then hate me again. Thank you all for reading. I’d love to hear your thoughts!

Word count: 11.5k

warnings: mentions of drug cartel/lords/paraphernalia, angst, heartbreak, sexual situations

Masterlist

LIAS masterlist

***

Cressida is awoken by two things, a loud peal of thunder and a combination of Ashton’s warm hands and mouth on her skin. For a moment she forgets that this is their last morning together. Ashton’s large hands lift up her nightgown and he curves his body to mold with hers as his lips kiss below her breast. His fingers rub at her skin in a tantalizing way, her body is humming. Then she hears him sniff and her eyes flash open. His cheeks are wet while he continues to kiss along her ribcage.

“Ashton?” she touches his hair and her heart shatters at the look on his face.

He’s pained. His cheeks are covered in tears, his pretty hazel eyes are bloodshot and his lower lip trembles. Cressida gathers his head against her chest, wrapping her arms and legs around his body so he’s crushing her, so that there’s no spaces between them. If she held him tight enough maybe they’d mold together and would never have to be apart.

His body shakes against hers, hot tears sting at her own eyes as he releases what he’s been holding in. The thought of losing her has finally come to life and it’s breaking him from the inside out.

“I’m trying to…get as much of you as I can,” he whines pressing his tear-stained lips to her neck. “I’m not ready to let go.” He chokes on the words as he tries to kiss her again.

She closes her eyes wishing it didn’t have to be this way. His lips on her skin are burned to her memory and after today that’s all it will ever be, a memory. She feeds into his desperation and sadness, their lips finding each other’s and Ashton presses into her.

Her cries turn to moans, her tears fall free, and Ashton’s movements are frenzied yet controlled. He wants this to last for as long as possible. She stabilizes his cheeks until he’s looking at her, his handsome face twisted.

“It’s okay,” she whispers tracing his brows, his nose, his lips. “It’s okay.”

He nods and slows his movements to a more controlled roll. Their kisses are bittersweet each time, a terrible reminder that their time is up. The storm has arrived. The axe has been swung.

“I love you,” he whispers on her neck lacing their fingers beside her head.

“I love you.”

They prolong the moment for as long as they can, one last thing they can do together, one last thing they’re in control of, but all good things must come to an end. And they arrived at that end together, sighing each other’s names. Soft caresses over shoulders and down hips are touches committing to memory.

“How did you find out?” she asks afterwards while petting his hair. Their legs are tangled, every part of him is touching every part of her.

The bad news he’s been dreading ever since Gavin and Cressida have been ‘together’ is coming into the light. Ashton and Cressida’s relationship has always had an expiration date but now that it’s finally here…it’s a lot worse.

“My assistant Phil and your assistant Chloe are yoga buddies and she told him you and Gavin will be announcing the engagement today,” Ashton responds sadly. His voice tickles her collarbone, and he nestles in closer to her, holding her tighter. “Did he actually buy a ring or is it a prop from your parents?”

“He bought it…I um…have it with me because after this I need to meet him at the Italian restaurant where we had our first ‘date.’” Cressida’s voice is oddly calm, but it doesn’t sound like her, it’s more robotic, monotone. “Paparazzi were tipped off we’d be there and that will be the first look.”

“Can I see it?” Ashton asks after a moment of shared sad silence.

“Ash, I don’t think that’s—”

“Please, Cressida,” he lifts his head, hair falling in front of his tired hazel eyes. “I need to see it.”

Cressida searches his face then finally nods and slips out from underneath him. She shifts through her coat that’s been on the floor since she dropped it there and pulls out a red ring box. Her hands are shaking as she hands him the box. They’re both naked, open and vulnerable to each other like they always have been but for the first time in their five-year long relationship, Cressida feels ashamed as he opens the box.

Ashton stares at the gaudiness of it. it’s a cushion cut diamond; the band covered in tiny diamonds. It’s much too large, so large that it looks like costume jewelry and although Cressida is a larger-than-life woman, she loves the softer things. She doesn’t need or want gaudy; this ring isn’t her at all.

“Hideous, isn’t it?” she tries to joke.

“It’s…” Ashton snaps the box shut, lifts his eyes to hers. Her hair is all mussed and her body is covered in love bites from him, his initials are still present on her belly. “We need to shower before you go.”

He leaves the ring on the center of their bed then grabs her hand leading her into the bathroom. Cressida’s arm loops around his naked waist as he turns the shower on, and they hug each other as the water warms up. The hot water stings their skin as they stand underneath it, she loves the steady stream on her head and the way Ashton’s fingers massage the shampoo into her scalp. She can’t keep her eyes off him as he rubs it out of her hair.

The water droplets roll down his cheeks and nose then disappear onto his lips. When her hair is rinsed out, Cressida grips his face and presses her lips to his. Ashton’s hesitant at first.

“We shouldn’t, angel, you might be late…”

“I won’t be,” she whispers dipping one hand in between them. She strokes him gently and he lets out a soft groan. “Please, Ash, I need you.”

“Fuck,” he moans then pushes her against the wall, his tongue stroking over hers.

Ashton lifts her in the air hiking her legs around his waist. She helps him enter her, biting his lip hard in the process by being filled again. He cups the back of her neck with a secure grip so when he starts to thrust her head won’t knock against the wall harshly. Her nails dig into the meat of his shoulders, his strong shoulders that embrace her so well.

Their breath is shared in heavy pants, lips knocking haphazardly as he thrusts, and she welcomes each one. Cressida whimpers as Ashton grunts, her toes curling in pleasure. Ashton’s tired of keeping his hand on the trigger of their love, so after she orgasms, he releases into her once more. When he pulls out and Cressida drops her feet to the shower floor, he can’t help but stare between her legs as his release drips out of her.

He knocks his forehead against hers. “That isn’t the ring I would have chosen for you.”

Her heart clenches at his words and closes her eyes. Does she dare ask what kind of ring he’d buy her? It would only twist the white-hot knife in her heart more.

“What kind would you buy me?” Apparently she wants to feel the pain.

“It’d be rose gold, a thin band with a round diamond. Not too big, not too small, but perfectly perfect, just like you.” He kisses her nose. “And I would have taken you back to that dive bar where we met and asked you to be the love of my life forever.”

Cressida opens her eyes to see Ashton already staring at her.

“You’ll always be the love of my life.”

The real goodbye is even harder as she tries one last attempt to fix the fall of their star-crossed affair. Her clothes are changed and she’s smeared make-up over the markings on her neck.

“What if I tell them I won’t marry Gavin?” she asks standing in the doorway. “He already knows about us and he doesn’t want this any more than we do.”

“If you don’t marry him, what will your parent’s do?” Ashton’s voice sounds tired because this is a conversation they’ve had many times over the last five years.

“I’ll be relinquished of my duties and cut off, but I don’t need the company or the money. I want you, Ashton. The truth is all I really want is somebody who wants me and that’s you. I want you.”

She touches his cheek, but all Ashton feels is the icy weight of her engagement ring on his skin. She put it on for the first time since the news will be broken to the world, but now its curtain call on their own love. The real show is to begin. It brands him in torture.

“I won’t have you throw away your future because of me, Cressida. This is how it’s supposed to be,” he replies sadly. “How it should have been, us making it linger only makes this worse.”

“We can change it! Please, Ashton,” she begs with tears welling in her eyes.

They stare eat each other, eyes having a silent conversation. She is screaming while he is silent in defeat and acceptance of their reality.

“You should go,” he kisses her palm then removes her hand from his face. “You’re the most valuable, the most precious, and the most beautiful gold in the world, Cressida. I’ll never stop loving you.”

Cressida breaks down burying her face in his chest. Her heart is breaking and even with Ashton’s arms around her, she isn’t getting fixed. Nothing can fix her now.

Six Months After Breakup—Cressida

Cressida’s walking along the aisles of flowers in the large nursery where she and Gavin are picking out flowers for their wedding. Their parents decided the wedding would be in the first weekend of May which fatefully falls on the anniversary of her and Ashton’s first meeting. It’s a cruel twist of fortune. She touches the smooth petals of a white calla lily, her engagement ring sparkling in the afternoon sun.

Cressida’s parents and Gavin’s parents are discussing a flower arch with the florist and Cressida decided to wander off. Her mind is on Ashton but when isn’t it? She’s always wondering what he’s doing, how he’s doing. Is she on his mind as well? She read in a fashion magazine that Lucinda broke up with him and is now dating some minor league baseball player claiming, ‘she’s never been happier.’ Cressida wanted to reach out and ask what happened to their planned marriage, but she decided not to.

Why add salt to a still open wound?

“I think these would look lovely in a bouquet,” Gavin says from behind her.

Cressida turns to see him holding up three marigolds, all of them a brilliant golden yellow. The plumes are lush and full, and the smell reminds her of summer. Cressida looks up to Gavin, his dark brown curls and even darker brown eyes. It’s taken them a long time but they’re finally friends. When Ashton told him to get sober, Gavin tried to but his footprint in the drug dealing world was too vast. She flashes back to that time three months ago.

After Cressida left The Golden Lion to meet with Gavin at the restaurant for their engagement appearance, his eyes were bloodshot, and his pupils made his eyes look like black holes. They made the photo opportunity short as possible, Cressida made sure to show off the engagement ring that felt like a weighted brick anytime she waved her hand around.

By the time they made it to her house, they were trending all over the world.

“I thought you were sober?” she asks throwing her bags on the floor.

“I’m trying,” he grumbles opening the fridge to take out a bottle of water. “Next time you see Irwin, I’ll be out of the ring.”

“I won’t be seeing him,” she mumbles pulling out her favorite bottle of wine from her wine cabinet. Her voice was back to the monotone.

“What do you mean?”

“You and I are getting married. It’s done. We’re done,” she pops the cork and walks outside to her deck by the pool.

Gavin disappeared for the next three days and at first Cressida didn’t care because then she could mourn over her and Ashton’s relationship in peace. Well, not really peace because she sobbed so loud in bed, in her pillow, in the shower.

It wasn’t until her mother called asking for her and Gavin to come over for brunch on Sunday to celebrate the joining of their families that Cressida started to worry. Both of his phones went straight to voicemail and it wasn’t until she got in contact with his best friend Jack that she discovered that’s where he was.

Cressida arrives at Jack’s place to find Gavin beaten up horrendously and lying on Jack’s couch. There’s so much dried blood and swelling on his face she barely recognized him. It took a few shakes and shouting his name before he opened his eyes, but even then they were tiny slits.

“What the hell happened?” Cressida asks in shock as her eyes roam over his body. His Armani shirt is torn and bloody, a very large red stain on the side of his stomach that is oozing onto the couch.

“Left the ring and they uh said this…” Gavin winces as he tries to sit up straighter, “was my farewell.”

“You need to go to the hospital, Gavin, you’re bleeding out.”

“No! I can’t let anyone know I was involved in—”

“You have enough money to keep this on the down low. I’m calling an ambulance,” she shakes her head and pulls out her phone.

While Gavin recovered for a week in the hospital, Cressida stayed with him. The cover story was that he got jumped outside of a hotel, nothing was stolen because he didn’t have anything of value, so they beat him up more for it. Everyone believed it.

The doctors wanted to give him morphine to help with the pain, but he refused because it would offset the other drugs that were still in his system. Cressida’s surprised and impressed that he actually means he’s going to be sober now. With the pain and the start of his withdrawals, he didn’t sleep very well through the night.

On the fourth night he woke up gasping for breath, his body covered in sweat.

“Gavin! What is it? What’s wrong?” Cressida asks turning on the light to see his pillow wet from his sweat. His eyes are large as saucers.

“I’m…fine!” he grits through his teeth staring at the ceiling. “With—withdrawals that’s…. all…”

Cressida sat next to him on his bed and held his hand. His eyes shifted to hers and he grimaces.

“I don’t deserve your help…after what I did to you…”

“Shh, let’s not talk about that now,” she shakes her head. “Let’s get you through this.”

After that, she helped him each time he went through a bad spell. It helped distract her from thinking of Ashton, even though he was always on the back of her mind anyway. She went to meetings with him and helped him with other coping skills. After a month most of his wounds and bruises were healing and there was a new light about him.

When she came home from the office, the house smelled amazing, and he was in the kitchen cooking. His red wine sat at the center of the table and Cressida tried to force the memory of Ashton and that exact wine out of her mind.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“I am officially sixty days sober today,” Gavin grins, “and I wanted to make you dinner as a thank you for helping me. I made some appetizers, come taste.”

She stands next to him and eats the appetizer he made, some kind of meatball with a sweet sauce. It’s very delicious. While she accompanied him to his meetings they shared a lot of heart to hearts and became closer than before.

“I also wanted to apologize for how I treated you,” he says pouring her a glass of wine. “And for what happened at The Golden Lion. It sounds like a poor excuse, but I never, ever meant to hit you. I’m so sorry that I did, I think about it all the time and hate myself for it.”

“I know you didn’t mean to and if anyone should be apologizing it should be me. I didn’t treat you very fairly either, Gavin. I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry for…cheating on you.”

“It’s not cheating when our relationship was never legitimate. I wasn’t faithful either,” he gives her an impish smile.

“I still feel bad about it. I was so wrapped up in….it should have stopped when we started this fake relationship anyway,” she shakes her head and takes a drink of his wine. Her mind swirls and her stomach gets butterflies as memories of Ashton invade her.

“I know it hurts you to talk about him,” Gavin says placing his hand on her shoulder. “I knew this would never be real to you. I know it’s arranged and…I wouldn’t be upset if you’d still want to see him.”

“That’s not fair to you, Gavin, and besides, Ashton and I are over, remember?” she swallows a big gulp of the red wine. It tastes different, it’s not as sweet as it was that night with Ashton. “I won’t be unfaithful to you in our marriage.”

“Let’s start as friends then,” he holds out his hand for her to take.

“Friends after three years of dating,” she giggles shaking his hand.

“We never really got to know each other. We were always so busy and when we were together, it was forced and publicized.”

“Very true,” she purses her lips then lifts up her wine glass. “To a new friendship.”

Their glasses clink and they share a wonderful evening over good food and to finally getting to know each other. He didn’t ask about Ashton and she didn’t offer it up. A clean slate is a clean slate, even though she’s still branded.

“Cress?” Gavin asks pulling her from her quick reverie. He’s holding the golden flowers in front of her.

“They are lovely,” she smiles dipping her nose into the multitude of petals. “And wouldn’t look too bad in the lapel of your jacket.”

“I can make any flower pop,” he grins handing her the small bouquet.

“Gavin! Cressida! Over here!” Cressida’s mother, Maria calls from the front of the nursery.

“We’re being summoned,” Gavin reaches for her hand then pauses, his brown eyes looking up at her. “May I?”

Cressida smiles and takes his hand in hers; her ring twists a little on her finger as she squeezes his hand. “You know you don’t have to ask.”

“I know, but every time I do you get a little flustered,” he smiles.

The rest of the afternoon is spent by going over more wedding plans; the guest list that is always being revised, the food menu that is always being altered, but the one thing that remains is Cressida’s stress and worry. When she worries she twists her ring and only stops when Gavin places his hand over hers gently. She looks up at him and he nods as if in understanding.

“I think my bride-to-be is a bit overwhelmed,” he announces to their parents who are bickering about the silverware. “Can we continue this some other time?”

“Oh, yes of course! We can’t have you wrinkling my dear,” Maria, Cressida’s mother smiles.

“Why don’t you two head on over to Rouge and tell them I’ve sent you, so you’ll only get the best of the best,” her father, Mark beams at his daughter.

“Thank you sir,” Gavin rises from his chair and Cressida kisses her father’s cheek.

“Thank you, Dad.”

“Enjoy yourself, darling. No need to stress.”

Gavin and Cressida do enjoy themselves as they drink and eat at the jazz restaurant. They even get up and dance when they’re called out by the band leader who spots them. Cressida is impressed by Gavin’s fancy footwork; he even lifts her up and spins her around which has them both laughing.

“Wow, I didn’t know you could dance,” she says breathlessly.

“I didn’t either, you brought it out of me.”

His eyes flicker to her lips and Cressida feels her stomach tighten. His hand on her lower back bunches up the fabric of her dress, his fingers squeezing her closer to his body. They’ve never been this close before and it makes her heart pound harshly against her chest. Gavin’s breath slows as he moves forward, his lips ebbing closer. She’s not sure if it’s butterflies or fear at the thought of possibly kissing someone other than Ashton so she pulls away.

“I need to um, use the ladies’ room,” she excuses herself and runs.

More moments like that have happened as they both become a bit more comfortable being close together. Their acting of intimacy doesn’t feel so forced anymore when they’re with their parents. When Cressida tenses at the mention of the ever-growing guest list (she lost count when it surpassed 1,500) Gavin rubs at her neck in assurance. When they’re overlooking options for dining ware, Cressida doesn’t hesitate to place her fingers on his lower back to peer over his shoulder.

That’s as far as their physical relationship has gone, innocent touches that leave a large impact and her mind swimming in many conflicting thoughts and emotions. It keeps her up at night and when she dreams she sees memories of Ashton morphing into Gavin.

It leaves her in even more confusion.

There’s laughter and chatter from her mother and friends sitting outside the dressing room of the bridal boutique. It’s her last fitting before the big day. The big day that has been looming over her head for years. Cressida hasn’t seen what the dress looks like, she’s only been sized and measured multiple times and asked questions about different designs of dresses that she liked.

“It fits you like a glove, Miss James,” the consultant Wendy gushes and fastens the last button. “Are you excited to see it?”

“Yes,” Cressida smiles at her warmly but inside she’s screaming.

“I’ll go out and make a grand entrance for you, just step onto the platform and you’ll see yourself in your wedding dress!”

Cressida took the split ten seconds to mentally prepare herself for the big reveal, to her entourage and to herself. Wendy opened the door and everyone on the white couch gasp as Cressida steps out. The fabric is cool between her fingers as she lifts it up to step onto the platform, keeping her eyes on the floor and not on the mirror yet. Wendy poofs out the bottom of the dress.

“You look divine, darling!” her mother says dotting at her eyes delicately with her fingers. “Do you love it?”

Cressida takes another deep breath then slowly lifts her gaze and gasps. The dress is absolutely beautiful and fits her figure wonderfully, she’s never felt more beautiful in a dress before. It’s perfect. The design is to her taste and with the veil attached to her head, she’s the perfect bride.

“Gavin is going to lose it when he sees you!”

“He won’t be able to keep his eyes off you.”

“Or his hands!”

More giggles ensue and they continue with their banter as reality sets in with Cressida the more she stares at herself. The dress is exquisite, a perfect dream, but while her entourage were gushing about Gavin, Cressida was picturing Ashton.

Ashton waiting for her at the end of the aisle. Ashton holding her hand as the pastor spoke. Ashton slipping the wedding band on her finger. Ashton telling her the vows he wrote and spoke with conviction. Ashton kissing her.

Ashton Ashton Ashton Ashton Ashton

!!!!!!

His name repeats like a haunted hymn trying to keep time with her rapid breaths. She feels hot. Too hot. She feels like she’s suffocating, and although the dress doesn’t have a high collar it’s as if she’s being choked. She needs to get out of it.

In a few short months she’ll be standing in front of Gavin. There’s a high-pitched ringing in her ears, the voices of her mother and friends are muffled, the light is too bright.

It isn’t until Chloe, her saving grace, catches her right before she’s about to fall off the platform. The other women are crowding around her, but Cressida can’t breathe, she needs air, she needs to get out of this dress.

“She’s fine, she’s fine, she started this new juice cleanse. I guess celery isn’t the one for her,” Chloe laughs off the quick excuse but helps her stand up. “Plus, with pre-wedding jitters and all. Let’s get you out of this for now, hm?”

Chloe drags her back into the dressing room where Cressida is gasping for air and waving her arms trying to unbutton the dress.

“I got it, I got it, hang on…” Chloe works quickly to undo the back of the dress.

Cressida lets out a loud gasp when she feels the dress pull away from her skin, she pulls off the cold shoulder sleeves quickly and carefully as possible. When she’s finally free she collapses to the floor in the heap of her dress, her vision is splotchy, and she sees stars. Chloe drapes the bridal robe over her shoulders and hugs her tightly.

“It’s okay, you’re okay. Breathe…easy, easy,” Chloe takes deep inhales and exhales with Cressida.

“I’m sorry, I-I-I…it all came real so fast, and I was picturing—”

“Ashton?” Chloe asks quietly and Cressida nods. Chloe hugs her until her heart has slowed, all the broken pieces of it.

Later that evening, Gavin found out she had a panic attack at the dress fitting. He became worried instantly and held onto her shoulders searching her eyes as if he could see the replay in them.

“How are you now? Do you need anything?” he asks concerned.

“I’m all right, it all hit me so fast when I saw me in the dress, that’s all,” she tries to smile then looks down and away from him.

“Hey,” Gavin ticks his finger under her chin, so she looks up at him, “We’re in this together. I promise I will take care of you and be your friend and confidant throughout all this. We can do this, Cress.” He pulls her into his arms, his embrace is tight, and it makes her feel better, she feels put together for a moment. “Why don’t you go take a bath and go to bed early?”

“That sounds like a good idea,” she sighs.

“I’ll get it ready for you,” he kisses the top of her head, gives her one more squeeze, then heads upstairs.

Cressida feels herself walking upstairs into her bathroom but it’s as if she’s on autopilot or watching herself from a distance. Gavin’s reading the back of one of her bath salts when she enters, and she looks at him. Really looks at him. He’s tall and handsome, that’s a fact, but she never noticed before how the symbol tattooed on his back peeks out on his neck under his collar. Or how his hair curls into smooth waves at the back of his head, and how broad his shoulders are.

He’s speaking to her about bubbles or oils, she’s not really listening as she starts to undress in front of him. In her dissociative mind, she wants to experiment with something. The small seed of feelings for him keep nudging at her, if she waters it will it bloom into something greater? When she steps closer that’s when Gavin notices her half nakedness.

“Does the salt stick to—” his eyes take her in slowly, watching her movements carefully as she shimmies out of her pants and then her panties. He swallows audibly, the bottle of bath salts slips from his fingers and falls into the tub with a shallow bump. “What— “he clears his throat when she steps closer, “what are you doing?”

“Can we try something?” she asks reaching for his arms. She grips his forearms, feels the taut muscles underneath his skin.

She knows he can definitely hear how loud her heart is beating. He nods as she lifts to her toes, her hands moving to his neck. Hesitantly, and oh so slowly, she moves closer to him. So close that she can feel his breath on her lips, he smells like a spicy musk, which is very inviting and then her lips are on his. Gavin remains still, letting her go at her own pace.

His lips are soft but are definitely different from the pair she’s used to. His cologne keeps her in check that this is Gavin and not—

“We don’t have to do this,” Gavin pulls back, and she feels a little empty from it. “I know this is so much for you.”

“Can we try?” she whispers, her eyes begging him to say yes.

“Are you sure?” he asks cupping her cheek. His thumb traces her bottom lip, his warm brown eyes meeting hers.

“I’m sure,” she nods.

Gavin crushes his lips to hers and his other hand grips her bare waist, pulling her to him in a tastefully forceful way. He sits on the edge of the tub and she presses herself to him, her hands yanking up his shirt. His hair gets messed up and then she admires the tattoos on his torso, her fingers tracing the designs and lines.

“I didn’t know you had any of these.”

“They’re all a part of my life story.”

“You’ll have to tell me about them sometime,” her gaze is steady on his as she unbuttons his pants. He shuts off the water of the tub standing up.

“I’d be glad to,” he smiles then lifts her into his arms carrying her to her bedroom.

Gavin takes his time kissing her from her lips all the way down to the very epicenter of her. Cressida closes her eyes so she can enjoy the feeling she’s experiencing and not to compare his touch with another’s. Gavin is gentle, touching her like she’s going to disappear into thin air.

She’s exploring him just as much as he is, she likes tracing the large tattoo on his back that goes up both shoulder blades. When they finally connect, she gasps, both in pleasure and at the vast difference. He’s making her feel good, her body is humming and tries to move with his. This is new for the both of them, this is their first time together after all.

At one point, she’s transported to another bed with another man and her nails creating large red arches into his back, they almost look like angel wings. She’s flashing back and forth from memory to present. When her release nears, all she sees is white space behind her eyelids. Then it’s over and they hold each other, both of them lost in their own thoughts.

“Is that what you wanted to try?” Gavin lifts his head from her neck, and she nods. “Dare I ask what the…conjecture is?”

“It was…” she searches his eyes trying to find the right words that hold truth in them, “it was really good.”

Gavin smiles slowly and nods. “I’m glad to hear that, I thought so, too. Do you still want your bath?”

“I can go do it,” she nods brushing away a curl from his forehead then presses her palm to his cheek. “How about you go pick us up some ice cream? We can watch a movie before bed.”

“Mint chip, right?” he grins leaning down to give her a kiss.

“Right,” she laughs kissing him again.

Gavin slides off the bed and hops back into his pants.

“I’ll grab your favorite wine, too. Maybe I’ll join you in the bath,” he winks pulling on his shirt then exits the room.

Cressida feels herself moving again, going through the motions of turning on the water and adding the salts and bubbles. She closes the door and dims the lights, making sure her rotary phone is next to the bath. When she climbs in, the hot water burns the soles of her feet and her hands, but it feels good.

She feels different.

It’s been a very long and very emotional day and Ashton invades her mind yet again. Moving on their own discord, her fingers reach for the phone and dials the number she’s had memorized for almost six years. It rings and rings and rings until the automated voicemail lady comes on. Cressida pushes the disconnect tab in the center and dials again. There’s a click.

“Cressida?”

Her breath hitches at the sound of his voice, then she slams the phone back in its cradle. She sinks below the water level, her head submerging into the vapid silence of the water. How did hearing Ashton’s voice hurt worse than the silence of him not picking up? There’s a purpose for all of this pain, but what is it? She’s falling, but she doesn’t know if she’s falling in or out of love.

Ten Months After Breakup—Ashton

Ashton has been a loaded gun ever since he and Cressida ended. He’s quick to anger and frustration, snapping at people over the simplest of questions. A lot has changed since that last weekend with Cressida and yet it feels like everything is the same.

He’s flipping through his calendar on his desk for upcoming appointments he’s jotted down and pauses on the first weekend of May which is two months away.

In the past, he would already be preparing the secret weekend getaway with Cressida. He’d be confirming with The Golden Lion that his room and floor were reserved for him. He’d make sure the room is stocked with their favorite food and drink and that Cressida’s robe was firmly pressed. Now, that weekend is wide open, staring him in the face with its blankness.

For the first time in six years, the white squares are empty. The Golden Lion isn’t scrawled in his gold fountainhead pen, as if it’s been erased completely but the memories are still burned into his mind. She’s left her mark in him so deep.

Ashton had a very slow incline from the very deep valley of his heartache. His phone beeps and he presses the button with the flashing red light.

“Yes?” he asks through the intercom.

“Mr. Hemmings is here to see you, Mr. Irwin,” his assistant Phil announces.

“Send him in.”

“A package was delivered for you as well; shall I send it with Mr. Hemmings?”

“That’s fine, Phil. Thanks,” Ashton sighs. He leans back in his chair, his calendar still opened to his schedule in May.

Luke was the one who helped Ashton out of his deep ravine.

He watches Cressida walk down the hall and disappear into the elevator. She didn’t turn around once. He shuffles back inside and makes his way to the large windows overlooking the street down below. Cressida is easy to spot, she’s using his red umbrella then disappears into the backseat of her car and drives off. Leaving him behind.

The dark cloud has been hovering over them this whole weekend and he used everything in his power to keep it at bay, out of sight, out of mind. But now Cressida is out of his sight and he’s about to lose his mind, so he pours himself a double of his whisky. Before he knew it, the bottle was empty, and he called room service to send up some more.

He thought of the consumption as a form of poetic justice, or something along those lines. He wasn’t sure, Cressida would know. She always knows things like that.

Ashton stayed in the hotel room for a whole week until there was a loud pounding on his door. When he opens it, he sees Luke in his crisp Armani suit, his golden hair slicked back in a suave style. The smell of his aftershave was fresh. Luke wrinkles his nose in disgust.

“You look like shit, man.”

“Nice to see you, too,” Ashton mumbles using the door handle as a brace to stay standing.

“It smells like your distillery in here and it reeks off you. Have you been here this whole time?”

“Yeah, so what?

Luke glances behind him then asks carefully, “have you been drunk this whole time?”

“Nope. For the first couple of days, I was because I finished my whisky, but now I’m sober and angry.” He turns inside the room and pulls out a bottle of water, Luke follows him carefully by making sure not to step on dirty clothes. “Do you need anything?”

“Yeah, you. You need to get back to work. I’ve been calling and calling but your phone doesn’t even ring. Did you lose it?”

“It’s been in that drawer since about a week and a half ago,” Ashton nods to the dresser. His phone is right where he left it when he arrived for his weekend with Cressida.

“Fantastic. Pack it up and let’s get you clean shaven.”

“I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so?” Luke shoves his hands in his pockets, a golden brow arched upward. “Why not?”

“Because Luke,” Ashton sighs and stares at him with disdain and a far off look in his eyes. “The love of my life is no longer in my life and I’m trying to grab a handle on that.”

“I didn’t know you and Lucinda broke up.”

“Luc--? No! Not Lucinda. Cressida. She’s gone but if I stay in this room… it’s like she’s still here, like she’ll come back.”

“Hold on,” Luke holds up a hand. “Cressida James? How are you in love with her? Aren’t your families cursed or something?”

“No, we aren’t cursed,” Ashton scoffs, “we’re sworn enemies.”

“Ah, because that’s really a big difference,” Luke mutters.

“We’ve been seeing each other in secret for five years, coming to this room every first weekend in May.”

Luke’s eyes widen. “Five years? Okay, I need to be filled in on this but before I am, you need to shower and then we’ll get lunch.”

Ashton explained everything about his and Cressida’s relationship all the way from the beginning. Their first meeting on graduation eve, their months spent in Europe, the highs and lows, their secret discussions of work that made sales skyrocket, secret glances, everything.

“So, let me see if I got this right,” Luke wipes the corners of his mouth with his napkin then sets it on the table. He uses his hands as he speaks. “You and Lucinda aren’t really dating, Cressida and Gavin aren’t really dating, but you and Cressida have kind-of-sort-of been ‘dating’ for the last five years.”

“Correct.”

“But now, because somehow an arranged marriage is still a thing, she’s marrying Gavin and you two had to split up.”

“Yes.”

Luke stares at Ashton like he has three heads and Ashton stares right back, his face passive. He takes a drink of his water then raises his eyebrows.

“You look like you have more to say.”

“Ash, this is insane. You and Cressida are clearly meant to be together, for as long as I’ve known you, you have never been in a serious relationship. Hell, I’ve never seen you go out with someone until Lucinda came around.”

“It’s always been Cressida.”

“It can still always be Cressida! Ash,” Luke laughs dryly, “you need to stop this wedding. Confess your love and runaway with her!”

“Luke, this isn’t some romance movie, this is real life.”

“Real life where arranged marriages still exist?” Luke challenges. “This situation is fucked but you can get her back.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because she’d be disowned and lose the company. I won’t be responsible for that.”

“There’s no way she’d be free of the company. She’s the best CEO James Brandy has had in years, inflation and sales have been astronomical since she took over. Her family and your family are holding an old grudge that could have easily been a big miscommunication.”

Ashton sighs, he really appreciates his friend’s attempt at trying to solve his woes. Woes he’s brought upon himself, but he and Cressida will never be together, that’s just how it goes.

Ashton went back to work after speaking with Luke. He found it helped him not think about Cressida so much while he was in his office or walking among the floors of his distillery. He made sure Phil had him booked from dusk to dawn and when his mind started to wander to Cressida, he’d find another task to occupy himself.

Each day it got better; each week it became slightly easier. Although Ashton shut himself away, he had Gavin under a very confidential and watchful eye. When Ashton heard he still was involved in the drug cartel with a ton of debt, he decided to step in.

He went to Brazil where the drug lord resides; Ashton was welcomed warmly because they know how wealthy he is. Ashton discovered Gavin has been trying to get out of it, but he owes $1.2 billion dollars. He thought back to Cressida’s cheek and his mind is set.

“I’ll pay his debt in full. Expect the money to be wired tomorrow no later than four,” Ashton says then makes his way towards the door. No one questions him on the money because Ashton is known to being true to his word.

“What is he to you that you are willing to pay off his debt?”

“He owes me something as well, something way more valuable than money.”

“Hmm,” Homer strokes his mustache thoughtfully, “I see. We’ll need to kick him out like we would with the rest of them, debt paid and all. It will be painful.”

“I did my part, who am I to tell you how to do yours?” Ashton shrugs and then he’s gone.

While Ashton waits for Luke to come into his office, he peruses through his news app and sees Lucinda and her new boyfriend as they’re walking along the beach with their new puppy. When Ashton returned from Brazil on his little errand, that’s when he learned of his breakup. Lucinda was there at his house waiting for him. She said she couldn’t keep doing this and if it ruins her career then so be it, she didn’t want to lose Stephen.

Ashton was more than understanding and told her he wishes her the best, and he meant it. After she kissed his cheek on her way out, Ashton wondered if his and Cressida’s decision made them weak or strong. He didn’t want to dwell on it for too long and let a second woman walk out of his life.

Luke waltzes in Ashton’s office in a grandeur fashion and waves a rectangular box in the air.

“Delivery for Mr. Ashton Irwin, I accept tips in the form of largely written checks,” he grins tossing the box on Ashton’s desk.

“Watch it, what if that was fragile and you just broke it?” Ashton shakes his head as Luke drops himself on the blue suede chair.

“I didn’t hear anything break. Let’s go on a trip, Canada sounds nice and welcoming, doesn’t it?”

“Why do you want to go on a trip?” Ashton puts the box in his desk drawer and gathers his wallet and two phones.

“Trips are fun, trips have class and culture. Aren’t you going to open that?”

“I will on Monday. I’ve been getting smaller bottle designs from a vendor that won’t take no for an answer. Who would want a small bottle of my whisky?”

They continue their chatter to the elevator in front of Phil’s desk.

“Mr. Irwin, did you receive the package?”

“I did. We’ll have to send something back. Can you do that for me, Phil?”

“Yeah!” Phil’s eyes widen as if in excitement, Luke and Ashton exchange a look. “I can absolutely send something. What would you like me to say?”

“Um, you can come up with the message. I’m sure you’d make it sound better than mine. Have a good weekend.”

Phil scrambles to his phone and quickly dials some number. Ashton thought he heard him faintly say a name that sounded like Chloe. Chloe is Cressida’s assistant. He shakes his head, he definitely heard him wrong and tunes back into Luke who’s talking about Canadian syrup. Ashton feels a picking at his brain, he can’t quite put his finger on what it is. It felt like he was forgetting something.

One Month Until Wedding

Cressida and Gavin are driving back from his property on the lake. They spent a long weekend laying in the sun, cruising on the water in the early dawn on his boat, and cooking meals together. On the mornings where they didn’t wake up early to go on the boat, the time was spent getting to know each other.

Cressida always feels like she’s in an odd déjà vu every moment she shares with him because it reminds her of some other time. She’s constantly having to only see Gavin in front of her and not a ghost of her past. They’ve continued to get closer and closer; a close friendship has formed completely.

Gavin knew this was the first weekend she wouldn’t be seeing Ashton, so he wanted to help get her mind off of it. She notices that whenever they’re holding hands, his thumb will be circling around the ring on her finger. She catches him staring at her from time to time and while it gives her butterflies, it’s also warning signs. Warning signs that Ashton is slipping away, and she doesn’t want that to happen.

“Can we get serious for a hot second?” he asks when he parks in her driveway.

“Yeah, what’s up?” she gathers up her purse, phone, water bottle, and sunglasses.

“I’m all in on this with you, Cress.”

Cressida stops her movements; she feels her cheeks warm up then looks at him nervously. He’s getting really good at reading her.

“I’ve…I’ve grown attached to you and those feelings are growing. I know you aren’t there yet, or maybe you never will be, or someday maybe? I don’t know. But I’m in this for you,” he stares her down, his eyes full of nothing but honesty. “And any way you’ll have me, I’ll take it. okay?”

“Okay,” she nods then touches his cheek, rubs at his skin. He places his hand over hers, his thumb rubbing over her engagement ring and he kisses the inside of her palm. “I’m sorry I have all of this…weight on me and it’s dragging you down.”

“You could never drag me down, you lifted me up in the first place,” he smiles.

Her heart tugs at his words. She hates herself for not knowing if it’s from flattery or an ache for another. She hates herself even more for being caught in the middle of her own feelings.

“Okay, serious talk over until some other time. Let’s set the bags in and freshen up before meeting your parents for Sunday dinner.” He gives her fingers one more kiss then exits the car.

“There you are! How was it, how did it go? Did you get the brace—OH!”

“Chloe?” Cressida’s in shock upon seeing her in her house. Not that it’s abnormal for her to be here but she didn’t have anything planned for her until Monday.

“Hi! What uh, what are you guys doing here?”

“We went to Gavin’s lake house for the weekend. I thought I ran that by you…” Cressida shakes her head. “What are you doing here?”

“Umm…I uh, there was a package for you but it…it’s the wrong thing. My mistake. I will return it,” she responds awkwardly and tries to scurry out the door.

“Oh, was it my shampoo? Let me take a look, I can see if I want to try it anyway,” Cressida drops her bags on the counter.

“You know what, I actually left it at the office. I’ll return it for you first thing tomorrow morning. I’ll see you Monday, bye!”

Gavin watches her leave the house in confusion; he turns to Cressida slowly.

“That was strange, wasn’t it?” Gavin points in her direction.

“Yeah… she was acting weird all week,” Cressida frowns. “I wonder if she’s going through a tough time or something…I’ll have to ask her tomorrow.”

“I’ll check on the plants and water them, then we can shower and head out?” he asks kissing her forehead.

“What do you mean by shower?” she cracks a smile, and he laughs.

“I didn’t mean it that way, I swear. But I’m open to it, always am,” he winks then heads out to her patio where her plants are.

Cressida chuckles watching him get the hose. Chloe had been acting giddy everyday last week, asking her indirect questions about her weekend plans, asking if she’s nervous. She made it seem like she knew where Cressida was going, so why was she surprised to see her home now?

The Big Day

Ashton already predicted this day would be horrible, but he didn’t imagine it happening right when he woke up. His coffee machine broke so he couldn’t have his first cup before stopping at his favorite coffee shop. Turns out that was also closed for renovations, so he messaged Phil to please pick up a new coffee machine and bring two coffees with him.

When Ashton arrived at his office building the computer systems were down which was just fantastic considering he’d be doing a video conference call with Japan at ten. He already wanted today to be over before he stepped in the elevator that seemed to take longer than normal to fly up to his office.

He had a migraine, and it was barely nine o’clock in the morning. Normally he’d be calling the hotel confirming everything. He hated today.

Phil comes rushing in with three coffees in a carrying tray and a box containing Ashton’s new coffeemaker.

“You’re a lifesaver, Phil, truly,” Ashton commends taking a drink of the first coffee. He already feels his headache subsiding. “Can we go over my meetings for today?”

“Yes, let me just…pull it up on my tablet here. Okay, so…”

Ashton listens to Phil rattle off times and names of who he will be dealing with today. While Phil talks, Ashton fixes his desk then opens his drawer and sees that rectangular box. The company hasn’t sent anything back so maybe they finally got the message, but now he wants to see what this bottle looks like.

He cuts it open, humming along to Phil, then sees another box. It’s maroon with a gold band running along the sides. It’s thin and that intrigues him, so he lifts the lid. Nestled inside is not a whisky bottle but the bracelet he bought Cressida three Valentine’s Days ago. Beneath it was a folded note that read, ‘meet me at our special place Friday. It’s important. I don’t think I can go through with it.”

“Phil, what the hell is this?” Ashton holds up the bracelet that is now looped around his fingers. Phil’s mouth is open like a fish out of water. “Phil?”

“I—you—didn’t you open that a few months ago?”

“No, I thought this was the whisky bottle from that company who keeps trying to partner with me. I told you to send them a message I wasn’t interested, but this is clearly not a whisky bottle. So…why is this in my possession?”

“You didn’t open it until now? I thought you did! That’s why I sent—oh no,” he groans and slumps into the chair in front of Ashton’s desk.

“Phil, what the hell is going on?” Ashton drops Cressida’s bracelet onto his desk, it clanks on the glass top.

“Chloe sent this from Miss James because she said Miss James was having reservations about the wedding. That she still loves you and…and you were supposed to meet at The Golden Lion, and you told me to send something back, so I sent your gold ring with a note saying you’ll be there. And oh my God, I thought you went last month but it didn’t end well so you were still angry this whole time,” Phil explains.

“But Cressida herself didn’t send this?”

“No, it was Chloe because she knows Miss James keeps the bracelet on all the time,” Phil pinches the bridge of his nose. “It was supposed to bring you back together and by me sending your gold ring…it was a sign you wanted her back, too.”

Ashton stares at Phil in complete surprise. He could have met up with Cressida a month ago and made up and they would probably be together right now.

“Did she go? Was she there? What did Chloe say?”

“I don’t—she didn’t go. Chloe said she went to some lake house with Gavin and now…she probably didn’t even get your ring…”

“What ring are you talking about?”

“Your gold one, with the ruby inside.”

Ashton’s mind is racing. His heart is about to combust. He’s connecting the dots and finding new ones that didn’t add up but make complete sense now. Why Phil seemed so excited that Ashton wanted to send a reply back. How he thought he misplaced his ring at the hotel but never got around to calling about it when really, it was delivered to Cressida but if she didn’t go to the hotel either…

“She never got the ring,” Ashton concludes and Phil wipes at the sweat on his brow.

“What?”

“You’re one hundred percent certain that Cressida received my ring?”

“I wouldn’t say one hundred—”

“Call Chloe now and find out.”

Phil scrambles for his phone, dropping it on the floor twice before pressing it to his ear. Ashton touches the bracelet before him, images of Cressida flashes in his eyes.

“Okay, thank you Chlo, yes I’ll tell him…yes…yes…well, it’s too late now. All right…yep…okay bye,” Phil ends the call then smiles at Ashton in relief. “She never got it. There’s still time to stop this wedding, sir.”

“If she went on a weekend trip with Gavin then she has to be over—”

“No! no, she’s not over you and you’re not over her!” Phil suddenly shouts jumping from his chair. “I’m sorry sir, if this gets me fired then so be it, but Chloe and I hated seeing you two act like you did. Your company will survive if you both were disowned but I highly doubt that would happen. We’ve seen you two together for six years. We couldn’t let you throw this away for some stupid arranged marriage.”

“Phil—”

“You have to stop this wedding. Two people who should be together and aren’t…that’s the worst kind of love story ever. I know your families are arch nemesis but that was how many years ago? And it’s not even your fight to begin with. Chloe and I think you should be together and it’s our faults that our plan failed but you can stop it today. Right now. I can—”

“Phil!” Ashton shouts causing Phil to shut up. “You aren’t fired. And this was very kind of you and Chloe to do but if Cressida didn’t personally—”

“She’s been on the fence about this wedding for the whole year! You have to go to her, sir, you just have to.”

Ashton sighs and plays with the bracelet. He thinks of the past year, how it wasn’t the best by any means because Cressida wasn’t in his life. She’s always said from the beginning that she didn’t care if she was disowned, that she’s only wanted him, and Ashton’s only wanted her. She’s the love of his entire life. Luke has told him to crash the wedding and he might just do that.

“Where is the wedding?”

Cressida is pacing in the bridal suite of the church. Her hair and makeup are finished, her dress is fastened to the very last button, and her heart has been in her stomach since she woke up this morning. Her hands feel clammy and she’s trying to focus on her breathing by taking deep shallow breaths. Her bridesmaids are drinking mimosas and enjoying themselves while the guests arrive in the large church.

The bridesmaids are discussing the honeymoon and placing friendly bets on if she’ll be pregnant upon the return. Cressida mentions she needs some air and moves into the hallway to continue her pacing. The door opens and expecting her mother, she starts defending herself.

“I’m fine, mother, I just need a minute to collect myself.”

“It’s me,” Chloe says, frowning at her boss and close friend. Cressida relaxes and steps in front of her, smoothing the skirt of her dress, her hands are shaking. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Yes, it’s just jitters. But I…I keep thinking of Ashton,” she whispers his name. It’s been so long since she spoke it out loud.

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out at The Golden Lion, but you seemed so happy when you came home with Gavin I thought you were actually happy with him now.”

“What do you mean you’re sorry it didn’t work out at The Golden Lion?”

“I…what?” Chloe shakes her head in confusion. “You were supposed to meet Ashton at the hotel last month, he sent his gold ring and a note to go along with the one I sent him…with your bracelet.”

“My bracelet? Chloe, I didn’t get a ring. What is going on?”

“I placed the box on your desk and when you left for the weekend you seemed so happy, so I thought you were going to The Golden Lion to make up or runaway with him. I came by that Sunday to see how it went but you were with Gavin, so I thought you’d made your decision.”

“But I didn’t send him anything,” Cressida shakes her head slowly.

“That’s because I did,” Chloe fixes her fingers together in nerves. “I came up with the idea and Phil agreed to do it as well, we hated seeing you both so upset. We tried to fix it.”

“If I would have gotten his ring I wouldn’t have left with Gavin,” Cressida’s shoulders fall in sadness.

She starts pacing again, thinking of the good thing Chloe and Phil tried to do but fate seemed to have other plans. Did Ashton show up at the hotel? Was his heart broken even more when she didn’t show up even though she never got his ring and note?

“It’s almost time,” the wedding coordinator announces bustling down the hallway. She opens the door to the suite and orders the girls to get out and into line. “Follow me Miss James and I will make you a Missus.”

Cressida gulps but follows her. Chloe reaches out and grabs her hand, gives her a gentle squeeze. Cressida relaxes a little knowing that Chloe is with her through this as well. Gavin is a great guy; he’s been a good and patient friend with her through the wedding planning. She’ll grow to love him as time goes on, right?

Suddenly she’s in front of the doors and it’s almost her turn to walk down the aisle. How did the other girls go so fast? How does she not remember seeing them?

“You can do this,” Chloe assures her, but Cressida is very doubtful.

The music changes and she stops Chloe from walking down. Chloe looks at her in alarm.

“I need to speak with Gavin, please. Can you bring him to me?”

Chloe nods. “Yes, yes of course. I’ll be right back.”

Chloe opens the doors then slips inside running along the sides of the pews. The guests watch her run her way up to the alter where Gavin is waiting in a crisp suit, his hair perfectly styled, and a large marigold fastened to his lapel. When he sees Chloe running, he knows what that means.

“Is she all right?” Gavin asks when Chloe reaches him.

“I don’t know, I’m not sure. She wants to speak with you, I’m sorry but that’s all I know.”

“It’s okay, I’ll speak with her,” he nods then turns to the pastor. “It’ll be just a few more moments. The bride wishes to speak with me, I’m sure everything’s fine. I’ll be right back.”

The pastor stares after him in bewilderment as Gavin follows Chloe back down the aisle. He smiles and nods at the guests trying to look reassuring. He knows what this looks like, but his mind is focused on Cressida. When he spots her, she’s grasping onto a table, her knuckles white.

“Cress?” he touches her shoulder carefully so as not to scare her. She flinches anyway then turns to Gavin, her face pale and eyes glossy. “Talk to me.”

“I can’t do this, Gavin, I’m so sorry,” Cressida sniffles. She takes Gavin’s hands, and he feels the ring fall into his palm. “You’ve been so kind and patient with me, and you’re a wonderful man but I don’t love you and I don’t think I ever would love you how you properly should be. You deserve more than a woman who’s hung up on another man. You deserve to be loved the right way. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Shh, shh,” he swipes the tears from her face and forces a smile. “I know. It’s all right.”

“It is?”

“I have grown feelings for you, and I know you’ve been trying to find some for me and to be honest, I hate seeing you try so hard. You’re meant to be with Ashton, not me. Go to him.”

“I should tell everyone inside—”

“I’ll worry about them,” he shakes his head, “and I’ll tell our parents. I’ll take care of everything.”

“I’m a horrible person,” she cries, “this is all because of me.”

“Loving someone doesn’t make you horrible. I’ll be fine Cressida, I’d rather have you as a friend than nothing at all.”

“Thank you,” she whispers then flings herself into his arms. He hugs her tightly, breathing in her hair and holds her as tight as he can. She pulls away to look up at him. “I will be a little bit jealous who you end up with. She’ll need my approval.”

“That’s nice to know,” he laughs then kisses her forehead. “Go find Irwin.”

Cressida takes a deep breath, stretches on her toes to kiss his cheek then lifts up her skirt and runs to the main entrance of the church where Chloe is already waiting with her bag and phone.

“How did you--?”

“I had a feeling,” Chloe shrugs. “The car is coming around.”

“Thank you, you’re the best assistant and friend I could have ever asked for.”

Cressida bustles her dress as best she can in the back of her car, her driver is a little bewildered but then slams on the gas to get to The Golden Lion. Her heart is thundering in her chest, her left hand feels weightless without the ring, and she hopes Ashton is there. Should she call him? Just then her phone buzzes and it’s a text from Chloe.

‘He was on his way to the church, but I contacted Phil and diverted his course. You should get there around the same time. Good luck :)’

Cressida lets out a shaky breath and suddenly she’s very nervous again. The hotel is twenty minutes away from the church. What will she say? What will he say? Will he take her back? She’s trying to stay hopeful but what if he sees her and decides it’s better they’re not together?

It’s a very long drive where she has time to recollect their time together. Meeting that night before graduation, the endless mornings and evenings in Europe, secret glances and very well constructed touches at parties they both needed to attend, Bora Bora, each weekend at The Golden Lion. She’s loved him completely forever and she can only hope he’ll want her the same way.

She’s approaching the hotel, the building shines in the golden afternoon, the mane of the lion sparkling. She struggles getting out of the car with her dress and makes her way up the steps and sees the back of Ashton. He’s peering into one of the rooms where they’ve shared many parties together. His hair is longer in the back and he looks broader in the shoulders.

Cressida can’t speak so she walks towards him. Just as she’s about to open her mouth, he turns around and she forgets to breathe. His scruff has turned into a full-grown beard and it’s very well kept, it makes him look even more handsome. Standing in front of him she feels more at peace than she has in months. She feels whole and complete.

“Hi,” he breathes, his hazel eyes scanning over her in her dress. “You’re…you’re an absolute vision, angel.”

“Did you really send me your ring? Because I never got it, but I swear, I would have been here last month. I’ve never stopped loving you and I never will. I called it off. The whole thing. And if I get kicked out of the business then I’ll start my own and we can build our own partnership. It’s always been you—”

Not being able to stand it anymore, Ashton gathers her in is arms and kisses her deeply. His arms wrap around the home he’s been missing for 365 days. His lips are kissing the lips he’ll never get tired of kissing. Cressida’s fingers twist into his hair kissing him back with just as much enthusiasm. It’s like she can finally breathe. Their love is bursting at the seams.

“I’ll never stop loving you either, Cressida,” he mumbles rubbing his nose against hers lovingly. He stares into her eyes. “I don’t care about the ring or the bracelet or our bad timing, what matters is that we’re both here now. And I’m never letting you walk out the doors unless I’m right next to you.”

“I love you,” she smiles and strokes his beard, it’s soft under her fingers. “I’ve wanted to call so many times. You look different, I love this beard.”

“Yeah? I was thinking of shaving it,” he grins.

“Don’t,” she shakes her head, “not yet.”

“Although I’m glad to see you, what about your wedding?”

“Gavin’s taking care of it, he’s a really good man, Ashton. And he’s going to tell our parents the wedding is off, but I want to tell them about you and me. I don’t want to love you behind closed doors anymore.”

“And I’ll be right by your side. Luke made a very good point about our ‘disownment’ and we won’t be losing our companies.”

“It’s settled then,” she sighs but pulls away from him. Ashton looks forlorn from the sudden distance. “There’s only one thing left to do.”

“What’s that?” he asks trailing his fingers down her arm so he can latch onto her own. He’s not letting her go.

Her eyes dance, the gold in them sparkling. “Help me out of my dress?”

They kiss freely in the elevator as they ascend to their floor, to their room. But it feels different because of their decision to finally come clean about their relationship. Ashton’s hands are frantic as he pulls her from her dress, her lips never leave his skin as they fall onto their bed.

Murmured words of love are pressed to skin, their fingers grasp and lock together as they reconnect. This feels different too, it’s not a secret anymore and they never will be again. Whatever happens after they leave this room, they’ll handle it together.

In a rush they come together but they’re nowhere near done. Ashton kisses all over her chest, her neck, her throat, and her hands roam over the dips and valleys of his body. She finds the maps only she knows; touches the freckles she’s discovered time and time again.

“My love for you is pure gold,” he sighs before slipping his tongue in her mouth. “Beautiful, rare…”

“And precious,” she smiles rolling him over onto his back. “It’s me and you, baby.”

They fall and crash together, the golden sun setting on their love. It’s a promise for a golden morning, a new beginning and the start of their life being shared into the light. No more secrets, just Ashton and Cressida loving each other beautifully, gently, passionately. A golden love for the ages.

Taglist: @calpalirwin @myloverboyash @loveroflrh @cxddlyash @princesslrh @spicylftv @notinthesameguey @itjustkindahappenedreally @calumance @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt @sarcastically-defensive17 @another-lonely-heart @devilatmydoor @thatscooibaby @suchalonelysunflower @dead-and-golden @mymindwide @blackbutterfliescal @redrattlers @karajaynetoday @quasighost @i-like-5sos @creampiecashton @calpops @littledrummeraussie @sexgodashton @f-mu @mystic-232

#lias fic #lovers in a song #ashton irwin angst #ashton irwin smut #ashton angst #ashton writing #ashton 5sos writing

48 notes · View notes

tillthelandslide · 4 years

Text

Broken

Anon request: “hi love, hope you are doing well.. I want to request you something.. Can you please write a fic/series where Henry's Gf dies.. and he is absolutely devastated and a mess since then ..He remembers their fond memories, her immense love for him.. He is left to live the aftermath and misses her..(intense angst) I think with your writing this will be loved by all.. Please consider this request.. Love you <3″

A/N: This was honestly such a hard one to write, imagining Henry to be like this honestly broke my heart, I was literally a sobbing mess the whole way through. This was very different for me but I’m glad I expanded my horizons and wrote this. I would say I hope you enjoy it but I don’t think it's appropriate.

Also I know you asked for it to be Henry’s gf but I started writing it and it became wife so sorry. Also I usually write my stories as “you” but I’ve been wanting to switch it up a little so my stories don’t seem too repetitive.

Also I listened to Goner by Twenty One Pilots (one of my favourite bands) whilst writing this so if you wish to listen to that, to add to the mood, ’ve added it.

I love you all so much - L

Tag List: @harrysthiccthighss @thereisa8ella @magdelen69 @henrythickcavill @hc-geralt-23 @kissthatlifeaway @darkbooksarwin @august-w-princess @speakerforthedead0 @pixie1484 @constip8merm8 @tigerbroadwaybaby @agniavateira @summersong69 @aestheticallywinchester @stephartrave @al-wiisa @henrycavillfanpage @intenselikes @anat2507 @ellixthea @aguspalazzo @1ookatthestars00 @wintersoldierslut @michelehansel @cavill-sass @thecavillstache @xelizabethvalentinex @sesamepancakes @tumblnewby @thefangirlsblog @sugarmelonwater @madbaddic7ed @bakika @abundanceofsoph @noisymist @mis-lil-red @runawayolives @kellbell44 @dashingcavill @006819red @paosesposts

(if you would like to be added to my tag list, feel free to message me, if you are new to my blog then I post Henry Cavill fanfics and make Henry Cavill fake Instagram posts, my requests are open so feel free to request anything and I will try my best to make your vision come to life. Edit: requests are still open but there might be a delay as I am working my way through the current ones and all other stories I am writing)

youtube

Broken : Henry Cavill Fan Fiction

Warnings: mentions of death, severe angst, crying and sobbing Henry. Please do not read this if you think it will impact your mental health. Mental health matters and always comes first. Here for anyone who needs to talk

He had never believed in the idea of the human heart shattering into a million pieces... until he lost her. This dreadful event had been the downfall of his once perfect life.

Darkness. That’s all his life was now, the existence of her had changed his life, she was his saviour, his salvation, but the loss of his one true love, that destroyed his life. She was the brightness even in the darkest of times and places. Everything he had loved before, he despised now, everything reminded him of the woman he once held in his arms, the one he was lucky enough to call his wife. He was convinced he would never be the same again, he felt like his heart had been combined with hers and when she left him, his heart left him too. He hadn’t expected this, he had expected to grow old with her, have 4 or 5 children and several grandchildren to carry on the couples legacy. She had promised him that’s what would happen. She vowed to love him until their final days, and he had underestimated when that day would be.

Here he sat, in their garden, a cigarette between his fingers, bringing it up to his lips and taking a deep puff, the tar slipping down his throat and coating his lungs with filth, she’d scold him if she were here... but she wasn't. He knew it was bad for him, but he didn’t care anymore. He needed an escape, he didn’t want to feel anymore, he wanted all the agony and anguish to disappear, leave him like she had.

God knows why he blames himself but he does. She had her whole life left ahead of her and this cruel world stripped that from her, removed all opportunities for the both of them to live a full and happy life together.

“I miss you my love” he says, to the sky, the darkness perfectly resembling himself, the stars in the sky seemed to be dimmed, apart from one, which was glistening brightly. He had decided that was her, watching down from heaven. Heaven was another thing he hadn’t believed in until his world collided with hers. She was this angelic being and had to have fallen from heaven, there was no other explanation to her beauty, her perfect personality, one in which complimented that of his wonderfully. She was the kind of person that bettered those around her, made them whole, made them purer.

Tears emptied from his eyes and he sighed, his hand which was holding his cigarette thrusting into his deep curls, curls he hadn’t washed or brushed in weeks. He didn’t think he could cry anymore, but here he was, water running down his face like a flood, amplifying his red and bloodshot eyes, the deep and bruising bags underneath his eyes a reminder of his soul crushing pain. His hand moved back down, slipping the tip of the cigarette back in between his lips, sucking it.

“God I fucking miss you baby” he says, his voice completly broken, he sounded like a character in a show or film, a different person alltogether and he supposes he is now he’s without his wife. He hears a knock on the door and swears, picking up the ash tray and walking with it, inside his house, where he plods to the door, swinging it open and seeing her best friend.

“Fucking hell Henry” she says as she sees him, the lead in her hands attahced to the collar around his dogs neck, Kal looks up at him making him turn away, even Kal reminds him of her and he can’t deal with him at the moment, hence why her best friend was looking after him. She closes the door behind her, following his trail back outside, releasing Kal from his collar, letting him roam the house.

“Thought you’d want to see Kal” she says, sitting outside with him, it was freezing and dark but she bared it, picking up his pack of cigarettes and taking one for herself.

“You don't smoke” he grunts, flicking the ash at the end of the cigarette into the ashtray.

“Neither do you” she quips back, making him raise his eyebrows, putting out the cigarette as it reaches its end, pulling one from his packet and lighting it instantly, needing his lungs to be filled with the poison.

“If she saw us now” her friend says, making him sigh, more tears falling down his face.

“Fuck” he says, wiping them away, the last thing he needed was her friend seeing him completly destoryed, she would for sure tell his family and hers and that would damage him even more.

“Henry” she says, sympathy laced in her voice.

“I miss her so fucking much” he says, making her reach forward and take his hand.

“Me too” she says, not knowing what to say, but she squeezes his hand, making him tear it back not wanting the attention.

“You don't understand,” he says, making her scorn him.

“Of course I don’t. It’s not as if she was my best friend. For fuck sake Henry, I’m trying to be here for you, its what she wanted” she said, looking away, her eyes landing on that same twinkling star, taking a puff from the cigarette.

“Well she’s not fucking here so who the fuck cares” he spits.

“Amazing. She wouldn’t have wanted this” she says, standing up, taking one last puff of her half used cigarettes, stubbing it out before leaving him.

“Wait” he says, stopping her in her tracks, she looks back, her eyes falling over his face, tears now streaming down his face, she walks over to him and his hands reach out to her, they’ve never done this but she knows he needs it, so she wraps his arm around him, his tears sinking into her shirt as his head rests against her.

“I’m so sorry” she says, tears springing in her eyes too.

“I can’t live without her” he sobs, his voice cracking making her heart ache for him.

“Henry” she says as she hears Kal crying behind her. Henry pulls away and looks at the dog, his face falling, the dog's large eyes looking into his.

“Hey buddy” he utters half heartedly and the dog walks up to where he’s sat outside, Henry puts out his cigarette and his hands begin to pet the dog's head.

“He’s had his hair cut” he says, making the friend nod.

“Yeah, he needed it, I know she usually takes him on Monday’s so I thought I’d take him” she says making Henry frown.

“Shit, did you tell Caroline?” he says, talking about the groomer she usually takes Kal to.

“Yeah” her friend says, a frown on her face too.

“I forgot to tell her.” he says.

“It’s okay, it’s the last thing you needed to remember” she says, referring to the long list of people Henry had to notify.

“We need to sort out the funeral, I can plan it if you’d like?” she says, making Henry shake his head, still petting his dog.

“No that’s okay, I should do it” he says, his voice breaking as he sobs loudly again.

“Henry, she'd hate to see you like this” she says, her hand gesturing to the man whose features looked uncanningly like another person.

“Well she’s not fucking here is she?!!” he shouts making her friend flinch.

“Sorry” he utters, dropping his head into his hands.

“I just wanna be alone” he says.

“No you don’t” she says, dropping down to her knees, placing her hands on his knees so she’s level with his face.

“Talk to me, she asked me to be here for you and that’s what I tend to do” she says caringly.

“Well I don’t fucking want you here, I want her and she’s fucking dead” he shouts, knocking her back, her hands landing on one of Kal’s paws making him yelp.

“Shit, I’m sorry” he says, to her best friend and to Kal.

“I’ll just fuck off then” she says, giving up. The dog looks longingly at his dad as she storms inside, before she comes back with the lead clipping it onto the dogs collar, slamming the door as she leaves the house.

“Fuck” he shouts, standing up from his chair. He walks back inside, looking around his house. His hands land on a vase containing flowers from his mother and he throws it aggressively against the wall, the noise ringing out dramatically in the empty house. It smashes against a picture on the floor, the picture falling loudly to the floor, the glass from the vase and the frame smashingly loudly making him swear.

“Shit” he says, walking over the picture frame, picking it up, the shards cutting his hand, but he doesn’t flinch at the pain, no amount of pain could hurt more than that in his heart. His fingers push the remaining shards of glass off the picture, revealing a picture of him and his wife on their wedding day. A small smile appears on his face as he scans her face, she looks genuinely ecstatic, that's how he will always remember her. His lips are pressed against hers and he carries her down the aisle, a smile against her lips and he remembers the moment like it was yesterday. It was the best day of his life, their friends and family were there to celebrate the union of the couple, it was the day she promised to love him forever, promised to be his faithful and loving companion until death does she part.

“We didn’t know it would be so soon huh love?” he says, chuckling despite it being far from funny. He places the frame down, deciding to clean the glass up later, he no longer had the dog to worry about and he didn’t care if he got hurt by the sharp shards.

His eyes drift to the other pictures that frame the walls, the one he had taken of her at their honeymoon, her naked body completely covered by the beach water, the waves crashing against the shore perfectly, making for the perfect picture, she had that same smile on her face and Henry’s lips lift up momentarily at the sigh.

“So beautiful” he says, looking at the picture.

The next is a picture he had taken of Kal attacking the beauty with kisses.

“That was taken after the first time we shagged '' he says to himself, chuckling at the memory. Laughing loudly when he remembers all the times she cringed when he used the word shag. They had shut the dog out wanting to save him from the sight of the two of them making love. Henry had gotten up moments after the wonderful moment when he heard his dog crying at the door, he had opened the door and Kal had jumped up on the bed, kissing her face as soon as he saw her, Henry had picked up his phone almost immediately, he remembers framing the picture on the wall but she had taken it down to cut part out (because her breasts were in the picture).

He looks at the next picture and he thinks this might just be his favourite, it was a picture of her being carried by his brothers, they had played a game of rugby and Henry was worried she would get hurt but she beat his team and his brothers picked her up to celebrate her winning the final shot. They were all laughing and so was she.

“Oh how I loved your laugh baby” he says. He walks to the kitchen, grabbing the first aid kit from the cupboard and quickly cleaning and wrapping the wound, before picking up a notepad she kept there, finding a fluffy pen she used and he began writing.

“My love,

No words can truly express how much I miss you, no words can describe my pain. So I’m not going to speak about that. I’m going to talk about how amazing you were, how amazing you will always be. The moment you walked into my life, I knew I was done for. You turned my word upside down baby. I know you were the one the moment I met you, I knew when you said my name for the first time, I knew when we kissed for the first time and every time since, when it felt like fireworks. In films we constantly see these epic ideas of love and me being the pessimist that I am never believed in them. But then I met you. And oh baby did that change. Our love was epic, and it always will be. I remember the first time you met my family, you were so nervous, you bit your lip so much that it bled. But the moment they met you, they loved you, you became one of us, that was the moment I knew I wanted to be your husband. I remember being so excited to meet your parents, because I was so curious to meet the people who shaped you into the wonderful person you are… were. I remember asking you to marry me and I was so fucking happy when you said yes, the moment you became my life will always be the best thing that has ever happened to me. And part of me is convinced that it’s the best thing to happen to anyone, anywhere. I will forever be grateful for the time I had with you but boy do I wish we had more time. I will love you forever and a piece of me will always be absent. I ask you to look over me. Heaven is one lucky place because now they have you. I was and always be your husband, your Henry. This world has no idea how lucky it was to have you, you will forever be the love of my life and I will continue to count my lucky stars, everyday baby.

Forever yours,

Henry

#henry #henry cavill #henry cavil x reader #henry cavill au meme #henry cavill angst #henry cavill blurb #henry cavill drabble #henry cavill imagines #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fics #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill headcanon #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill masterlist #henry cavill one shot #Henry cavill requests #henry cavill reader #henry cavill writing #henry cavill story

200 notes · View notes

bopbopstyles · 4 years

Text

5. Harry Styles, Live on Tour

SERIES RATING: M (sex)

CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 8.5k

MASTERLIST | INSPO TAG | ASK

Y/N promised herself she would never date a musician. It was her one rule–her only rule, actually–when it came to dating. But then, Harry Styles rolled into her life and asked her to break it, just this once. And this is what happened.

a/n: THIS CHAPTERR BOUT TO BLOW UR MINDS SEND ME UR REACTS I AM SO EXCITED EFIHDOICJPFESAPSKPO

pls reblog to spread the word about only exception! 🥰

The flight was too long for Harry. His leg bounced up and down the whole time, to the point where Jeff, who was flying back to LA with him, had to reach over and stop him with a pointed look. But Harry couldn’t control it—he was seeing Y/N for the first time in a month in a matter of hours.

“Excited?” Jeff asked when the plane started its descent.

Harry whipped his head to look at his manager. “Can’t describe how excited,” he replied, eager to see his love.

Unfortunately, his flight landed at 2 and she wasn’t off until 5, so he had to take a car home to his empty house. But when he opened the door, he could smell her perfume in every corner of it from the days she had spent taking care of his home. The plants were alive and well, pool clear of any leaves, and the counters sparkled from her cleaning. He smiled at the thought of her making sure his house was tidy and ready for him, her face screwed up with focus as she vacuumed his floors.

To occupy his time, he decided to cook them dinner, not minding that it was early. He’d asked Y/N to pick up groceries for him, so his fridge was fully stocked. With Stormzy blasting through the speakers, he set about making homemade pasta, pulling the pasta maker out of the cabinet where it had sat, unused, for months. He wore the apron Y/N had bought him as a joke and he adored, sang along to the lyrics, and smiled down at the dough. It felt good to make something after living on take-out and food cooked backstage at shows for so many weeks.

His head popped up at the sound of the door opening. He’d finished the pasta and poured himself a glass of wine, leaving a glass out for her, too. It was her favorite thing to end the day with and he wanted it to be ready and waiting for her. Then, he heard her voice, echoing through the walls of his home.

“Harry?”

He scrambled to turn off the Stormzy and practically ran to the door to meet her. Her hair was swept up in a high ponytail, a purple pant suit showing off her figure, a glowing smile on her face. “Hi, baby,” he said, gathering her up in his arms. It had been too long without seeing her face, hearing her voice in his ears, touching her skin.

She grabbed at his cheeks and pulled him in for a long, deep, heart-shattering kiss, lips wet and begging for one another. Her heavy pants filled his ears and he loved it, the sound of her when he kissed her. Her work bag dropped to the floor and she leaned fully into him, arms dangling over his shoulders, fingers curled in his hair. When she tugged slightly, Harry’s body lit up from the pressure, from the reminder that she was real, she was here, she was his. Lips trailing down her neck, nipping at her soft skin in the way she adored, she moaned his name. “Harry.”

“Missed you so much,” he said, voice falling in almost a whimper at the feeling of her in his arms. “You’re real right?”

She giggled, the sound like a beautiful guitar solo in his ears, and nodded. “You sure you’re the one who isn’t real?”

Pulling on her thighs, she jumped up, wrapping her legs around his waist. “I made dinner,” he said, sucking at the skin below her ear, “but I think I want dessert first.”

“Naughty,” she answered, gasping as a bruise bloomed on her skin.

His hands dug into her ass and she nipped at the skin over his Adam’s apple. “Wanna go to bed with me?”

“Maybe.” She pulled at his lower lip with her teeth and he hissed at the feeling. “What’d you make for dinner?”

Now she was just being plain mean, he thought. “Homemade pasta.”

She considered this as he pulled back the collar of her shirt, sucking into the skin at her collarbone. “Sounds delicious, but I think I’d like to see the chef naked instead.”

“Chef, eh?” Harry captured her lips again and started walking, the feeling of his dick brushing against her center with every step making both of them groan, low and heavy into each other’s mouths.

“Mhmm,” she mumbled against his lips as he began to ascend the stairs. “It’s this apron,” she said, pulling at the ties around the back of his neck. “Sexy.”

He filed that away for later. “Good to know.” Having reached the top of the steps, he backed her against a wall, kissing her deep and heavy, loving the way she squirmed in his grasp, hands curled in his sweatshirt from the plane that he hadn’t changed out of. “Fuck, Y/N.”

“Need you,” she exhaled on his skin, “Please.”

With that he was practically running to his room, Y/N giggling in his arms as she bounced against his body. He dropped her to the bed and she kicked off her heels, scrambling back to make space for him between her legs. Knees on the duvet, Harry crawled to meet her, unbuttoning her suit jacket on his way so he could suck her nipples through the fabric of her shirt. Her back arched into him, hands carding through his hair in the way she knew he adored. Made him feel taken care of, loved. “Can we get ya out of this?” He was breathing heavy as he hovered over her, eyes trained on hers. He was rock hard in his pants and he needed her as soon as physically possible.

She helped him get her clothes off, fingers fumbling over the buttons of her shirt. When they got it off, Harry dove in immediately, licking at the swell of her breasts in her bra, the pants falling from her mouth music in his ears. “You too,” she said, pushing up his sweatshirt. The material was too hot on his skin, sweating from his need for her.

He pulled it off and then his pants, pushing all of their discarded clothing to the ground, not caring that his Gucci pants were on his carpet. “You,” he mumbled as he made his way up her body with his tongue, “are a goddess.”

“Look who’s talking,” she replied, words ending in a moan that had his skin tingling.

He kissed her softly, licking her lip with his tongue as he pulled away. “How do you want me, baby?”

“Close,” she breathed out, eyes never leaving his. “Deep.”

Not what he meant, but it would do. “I want to taste you,” he told her, moving down her body to get his mouth on her center. But before he could, she pulled at his head desperately and he glanced up to see her face. Her eyes were blown wide, desperation clear on her features.

“Need you,” she told him, “now.”

Harry sucked one of her nipples into his mouth, the wet mewls she let out filling the room. “Ready for me?” He taunted, knowing she was, but wanting to hear it anyways.

“Please,” she begged, hips bucking up to him. “Please, H.”

He wasted no time in tugging away her underwear and his own. She reached behind her chest to unhook her bra and Harry smiled at her in thanks. She knew how much he liked to see her, completely naked, nothing between their bodies. Pumping at his cock for a moment, Harry studied her beneath him, the girl he loved so deeply it was impossible to know where it stopped, who had swept into his life without knowing where she came from. Who made him work for her love, every single day, and made him worthy because of it. “Love you,” he breathed out, brushing his tip against her slit, them both keening at the contact on their hot skin.

Gripping his shoulders, she pressed up to kiss him, exhaling her love into his mouth as he pushed into her. She enveloped him immediately, Harry grunting from the feeling of being inside of her once again, his favorite place to be. His head dropped to her chest, forehead resting on her breasts and he paused, struggling to gain his breath back. Fingers brushed his hair, scratched at his scalp as she waited for him, adjusting to her being inside of him again. The feeling of being this close—this is what Harry missed more than anything when he was away. Just being enveloped in her.

He lifted his head and their eyes met, both blown out with desire and love, and he began to move. He rocked slowly but deeply into her, meeting her request of close and deep. The duvet covers crinkled under their bodies as she held him close, high-pitched squeals and cries as he found the spongy spot deep inside of her that made her body mush in his arms. Harry didn’t know if they could be any closer, and yet he found himself craving more, to somehow slip inside of her skin and live there, to become one with her.

Their lips met as he sped up slightly, his body chasing his release and her own. Sticky skin on sticky skin, they gripped one another close as he pulled her up so she could sit in his lap. She bounced on his hips, exhausted but wanting to please him, until Harry helped her, thrusting into her, the new angle making her head tip back in a moan. Harry used the opportunity to cover her neck in kisses, knowing the bruises blooming would require concealer tomorrow but he knew she didn’t care all that much. He wanted the world to know she was his.

“‘M close,” he said into her shoulder, biting at her flesh.

Her hands gripped the back of his neck, a “Me too,” murmured to his skin.

Harry rested her on her back again so he could drive into her the way they both craved, hips meeting hers at a fast pace that had her body moving up the duvet cover. “God, love, you feel like heaven,” he groaned, finding her lips in a kiss. She sucked on his lip as he pushed desperately into her, so close he feared spilling into her before she came which was the last thing he wanted. “Need you to come.” He dipped a finger into her mouth, jaw dropping as she sucked it like she would his dick. Then, he rubbed the finger to her clit, a scream ripping from her throat that had him grinning down at her, loving being the person to see her like this.

Then he felt her spasm on his dick, walls sucking him deeper into her, and he knew she was coming. He pistons into her before collapsing on top of her as his come brushed her walls, the feeling leaving him shivering in her embrace. She pressed kisses to his forehead, both of them breathing hard as they settled into a close embrace.

Slowly, he pulled his dick from her, Y/N hissing as he left her empty. “Love you,” he murmured into her hair. “So happy to be home.”

“Me too,” she said. “Want your pasta now, though.”

He laughed, loving her more with every passing moment.

They spent the weekend lazing out in bed and Harry made cinnamon rolls, much to Y/N’s delight. Harry completely signed off of his work email accounts and ignored any and all phone calls, completely wrapped up in being home with his love. He had her paint his nails a new color and they settled on an alternative baby blue and pink, which she painted while they laid on the couch and watched Criminal Minds. She had fessed up to watching ahead of where they had stopped when he left, so he made her re-watch all the episodes that he had missed. Not that she minded. It gave her an excuse to stare at Harry without him noticing.

On Sunday night, they laid in Harry’s bed, legs twisted together as Harry held her to his chest. Bon Iver played softly in his room and Y/N was dressed in one of his old One Direction tour t-shirts and a pair of underwear, Harry in just his boxers. Y/N was drawing on the outlines of his inked chest, tracing over all of the images on his skin, when she piped up with a question.

“How was it? Being away?”

Harry’s gaze moved from where it had been resting on her ass and crawled up to her eyes. “Hated it,” he told her honestly. “If my job didn’t require touring and travel, I’d have rather been here with you.”

Y/N smiled, pressing a soft kiss to the swallows on his pecs. “But tour was good?”

“Yeah,” he told her. “Bit weird, if I’m honest.” Her head cocked to the side, eyes resting on his face, listening intently. “Like, all of my career has been spent on stage with four—or three—other people singing with me. And now, it’s just me. I’ve got the band, but the energy of the crowd, that’s all on me.”

“Is it harder?”

He shrugged, fingers combing through her damp hair from the shower. “Not necessarily harder, just bit more pressure. Used to be if one of us was having an off night, the others would pick up the slack. But there aren’t any off nights when it’s just you.”

She rolled his words around in her head. “Sounds like a lot of pressure.”

“It is.” He brushed a quick peck to the top of her head. “Glad I have someone to call when it’s a bit too much.”

Y/N smiled, nudging herself up his body so her head could rest right under his chin. “I am too.”

“How’s work going? You mentioned the other day that there might be a promotion on the horizon?”

She nodded into his skin, fingers trailing over the butterfly on his belly. It might be one of her favorites, if she really had to decide. “Maybe so. Overheard them talking about it in the conference room on Monday. I don’t know if it’s for me or one of the other junior associates, but I’m hoping so.”

“Deserve it, baby. You’ve been working so hard lately.”

She squeezed his torso. “That’s because I don’t have anyone here to distract me.”

His fingers danced up her sides, brushing the spots where he knew she was ticklish. “Oh, I’m distracting, am I?” Then he began to brush them back and forth quicker, tickling her skin in a way that had her squirming and laughing, trying to roll away from him.

“Stop it!” She said, laughing, head tipping back and hair falling behind her head.

Harry grinned at her. “Fine. But you gotta come back—miss you.”

“I’m literally right here,” she told him, falling back onto his torso.

They settled back into a comfortable silence, the night settling outside the room, and Y/N realized that without even knowing it, Harry had consumed her life in every way. Him being home made her world brighter, the colors sharpen and the sounds louder. It was fucking frightening if she thought about it for too long, how much she now relied on him to process her day or get to sleep at night. But, she also thought, that was what love was. Right?

Harry was only home for ten days, and so they made it count. They had friends round to the house, Hanna, Jamie and Cole alongside Harry’s industry friends filling his house for a fall barbecue potluck. Harry demonstrated a surprising skill at the grill and Y/N worked on the sides, making her grandmother’s cole slaw and potato salad which Harry immediately fell in love with. Having people in his house made it feel even more like a home and the sound of conversation made his heart tighten. These were the things he missed the most about touring—being in one place, reconnecting with friends. He realized years ago that when he was home he had to reach out to his friends, because otherwise they never knew where he was and just assumed he was gone. It was always awkward when he ran into someone at the grocery store and they said they would’ve invited them to the most recent get-together if they’d known he was here. He was used to it now, and decided to just take on the role of host. He loved having people over to his homes, loved filling spaces that had a tendency to become sterile if they were occupied very often with laughter and memories. To have Y/N alongside him to build those memories was even more special.

During the day when Y/N was at work, since that was something she couldn’t cancel just for him, especially with the possibility of a promotion on the table, Harry went hiking in the hills, visited friends, even wrote some beginnings of songs in his studio. He was starting to really like his LA house, the big backyard and pool, the warm air that lingered into the winter months. He didn’t even really mind all the traffic, since it gave him a chance to play his favorite songs at full volume and just exist in his brain for a little while.

They’d split their time between Harry’s and Y/N’s apartment, and Harry had gotten comfortable there. She had great interior design taste, plenty of blankets and pillows and cute prints on the walls, photos everywhere of her and her family. Now, there were photos of the two of them scattered around, the one he’d gotten her for their sixth month anniversary sitting on her bedside table. The only downside was that her shower wasn’t quite large enough for both of them and it was a bit too short for Harry’s height.

On Thursday night, they were making dinner in her kitchen when Y/N turned to Harry and out of the blue said, “Want to smoke with me?”

Harry looked up at her in surprise, dropping the tongs he was tossing their salad with. “Sorry?”

“Marijuana,” she said, giving him a small smile. “I’ve got some. Want to smoke it?”

He gulped—for some reason, the idea of her smoking a joint had him hot and bothered in seconds. “Sure.”

She grinned at him, turning back to the stove. “Great. After dinner?”

“Sounds good.” He quickly adjusted himself, hissing at the contact of his hand on his dick. How could she manage to get him like this so fast?

After dinner, Y/N ran off to her room to grab her supplies, meeting him back in the living with rolling papers and her baggie of already ground weed. She sat down on the floor next to the couch, where Harry was sitting, watching her intently. With practiced fingers, she packed the weed into a tight line on the rolling paper before rolling the joint, licking the edge for the paper to attach well.

“Good at that,” he told her as she joined him on the couch.

Y/N looked up at him, holding the joint between her lips. “Practice makes perfect,” she said out of the side of her mouth, lifting the lighter to the end of the joint. She took a deep inhale, held it, and then released, passing him the joint. Harry followed her lead, coughing a bit, not having smoked in a while, but she didn’t look at him weirdly for it. Instead, she just hopped up on the couch next to him and patted her lap, waiting for Harry to drop down and place his head there.

Not waiting a second, he flopped onto her lap, sighing as she ran her fingers through his locks. He could already feel himself getting a bit floaty, the sharp edges around the frames on the walls getting a bit more blurry. “This is good stuff,” he said, accepting the joint from between her fingers and tagging another drag. “Forgot how good California shit is.”

“When was the last time you smoked?” She asked, pulling it from his lips and bringing it to her own, Harry’s eyes following. He focused on her lips wrapped around the end in awe, entranced by how she managed to look so beautiful all the time.

“Hmm,” he thought, taking the joint from her fingers. “Few months, probably. Caught up with Niall when he was out here and some other blokes, someone brought a bit.”

“Ever shotgun?”

He blinked hazily at her. “No,” he said. “Don’t think so.”

“Want to?”

“Sure, baby.” The last word came out slow, a drawl, and Y/N smiled at it.

Harry watched, eyes wide, as she inhaled a puff of smoke and then, holding the joint to the side, leaned down and brought her lips to his. He felt the smoke leave her mouth and enter his, and he held it there as she moved away before exhaling. “That was hot,” she said, running a finger along the seam of his lips.

“You’re hot.”

She giggled and Harry reached up and poked at her cheek. “Why don’t you have dimples?”

“Not everyone has dimples,” she replied with a shrug. “Why do you have dimples?”

“Dunno. Guess God thought they made me cuter.” Y/N dissolved in laughter and Harry joined in, loving the sound of her laugh. “I’m hungry,” he said out of nowhere. “But we just ate.”

“We’re high,” she replied. “Makes sense. Want some popcorn?”

“Ooh,” he said, sitting up. “Extra butter?”

She nodded, grabbing his hand and leading him to the kitchen, joint still propped between her index and forefinger. “Don’t tell your trainer.”

“Shh,” he said, reaching out and pressing a finger to her lips. “He’ll hear you.”

Y/N bit down on the pad of his finger and suddenly the popcorn was a forgotten memory. Instead, Harry’s hand went to her hips, tucking her between him and the counter.

“Wanna fuck you on your counter,” he mumbled before taking another hit.

“Just cleaned them,” she replied, kissing his jaw. “Sorry, baby.”

“Meanie,” he said, head pressed to the back of her neck as she twirled around, grabbing a bowl for the popcorn. “Got me high and now you won’t let me fuck you.”

“Hey,” she told him, “never said you couldn’t fuck me. Just not on the counter.”

Harry perked up at that. “Floor? Wall? Couch?” He threw out suggestion after suggestion, his desperation drawing a giggle from Y/N. She was more giggly than usual, he thought absentmindedly.

“Couch. Last time we did it on the floor I got carpet burn.”

He chuckled, squeezing her ass where he had to massage lotion into for days after. “Not my fault you couldn’t wait until we got to the bed.”

“You’re the one who started it!”

He smacked an open mouthed kiss to her cheek. “You’re mean when you’re high.”

“No, you’re just a sensitive little bean.”

“Bean?” He tugged her back into him as she popped the popcorn bag into the microwave. “Don’t like bein’ compared to a bean.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re needy when you’re high,” she told him, swiveling her hips over his cock in a way that had him groaning into her neck.

“Now you’re just bein’ cruel.”

Y/N turned around and kissed his nose. “C’mon, baby. Think you can make me come before the popcorn finishes?” Harry picked her up immediately, not wanting to wait another seconds yelp leaving her mouth at the loss of stable ground. He wasn’t about to lose out to their popcorn snack.

The drive to the airport was quiet except for the radio playing from Y/N’s car stereo. Despite Harry’s protests, Y/N had forced him to let her drive him, telling him she didn’t have an excuse not to. It was a Sunday afternoon, so it was this or him having to hug her goodbye and walk out the door, which neither of them really had the strength to do.

LAX was packed, but the paps hadn’t gotten tipped off to Harry’s departure time, so they had the ability to say goodbye on the curb like she had hoped. She wanted one more kiss, one more hug, before he left. She drove up to a bit more a secluded spot before popping the trunk and unlocking the doors, them both getting out to go grab his bag. Harry emerged from the passenger side, hoodie up and sunglasses on to disguise his appearance as much as possible. He’d left most of his tour clothes with the crew, them already in Paris where the European leg started, so it was just his suitcases with clothes and his carryon with his computer and things.

Closing the trunk, Harry looked at Y/N, both of their eyes teary from his impending departure.

“Come ‘ere,” he said, arms stretched out to her.

She immediately fell into them, resting her cheek on his shoulder, breathing in the last wiff she could get of his cologne and shampoo until he got home. “Wish you had more time,” she whispered, arms wrapped tightly around his middle.

“Me too,” he answered, rubbing a hand up and down her back. “Be home in December, though, yeah? Before you know it.”

“Gonna miss Thanksgiving,” she mumbled and he chuckled.

“Next year,” he promised and Y/N’s heart soared at the thought of having him until next Thanksgiving. Something for her to look forward to.

She looked up at him and then leaned up onto her toes, a fierce kiss pressed to his lips that left them both breathless. His breath fanned out across her face as he held her close, drinking in their last moments together. It was a goodbye, a goodbye they both had been dreading for days. “Love you,” she said as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Now go, don’t want you to be late.”

A tear escaped her eye and she brushed it away, not wanting it to be harder than it was. But then she saw the tears that had fallen on Harry’s cheeks and she knew it didn’t matter. It would always be hard, whether they were crying or not. She dried his tears with her fingertips and with one last kiss, she pushed him away, unable to draw it out any longer. “Love you more,” he said. “See you soon.” And with one last look at her, he turned away and headed inside to the terminal.

Y/N got back in her car and tried not to sob as she pulled away, the prospect of another month and a half without him tearing at her heart.

For the fourth time that week, Y/N was awoken by an acidic taste in her mouth, the desire to vomit forcing her to rush to her bathroom. She barely made it before she was throwing up last night’s dinner, gripping the sides of the toilet seat, tears streaming from her eyes. With a sigh, she leaned against her counter, hoping her stomach would settle. At first she had thought it was the fish she’d gotten at dinner with Hanna and Jamie, but days had passed and she was still rushing to the bathroom when she woke up.

It was early, only 5AM, and she didn’t have to get ready for a few more hours, so she decided to give Harry a call. She had no idea what time it was, or frankly, where he was, but it was the thought that counted.

She made her way back into her bedroom, curling up in the sheets, the feeling of being horizontal helping her still queasy stomach. Her fingers found his name in her Favorites tab easily, thumb pressing down the FaceTime button so she didn’t get international charges, and lifted up the phone, waiting for him to hopefully answer.

It rang and rang, the loud shrill of the FaceTime ring tone hurting her ears. But instead of seeing his face, she got the Harry is unavailable for FaceTime screen and threw her phone down onto her bed in frustration. The past week, ever since her stomach had been acting up, they’d been missing each other. He was last in Singapore, she remembered—it was after the two weeks he’d had off in mid-November, during which he went to London to see Anne and Gemma. He’d missed Anne’s birthday to see Y/N and felt terrible about it, and they had decided that he should spend the two weeks off with them, have plenty of downtime in London to catch up with his friends and family rather than come back to America and just be jet lagged the whole time.

It had been nice in some ways, being able to have long chats with him on FaceTime, getting to talk to Anne and Gem while he was with them, but it was also difficult. Him having time off but not spending it with her. But he wasn’t just hers, she had to remind herself whenever she found herself gripping his pillow in his bed, he belonged to so many other people too.

She decided to shoot him a text, see what he was up to. Woke up early feeling sick — give me a call if you’re free. Miss you.

Tucking her phone into the pocket of her PJ shorts, she padded into her kitchen, deciding to make a cup of tea. Harry had made her a tea drinker. She had discovered that the feeling of sipping a nice warm cup at any time of the day was quite comforting—maybe that was the reason British people drank it all the time? While waiting for her tea to brew, she scrolled through the fan Twitter she’d made earlier in the tour, smiling at the videos of him bouncing around on stage the previous night, during what seemed to be a show in Melbourne. Australia. Fuck—what was the time change for there?

She pulled open the Clock app on her phone, groaning when she discovered it was 17 hours. It was 10pm for him, he was probably wrapping his show soon. Maybe she’d get him once he got off stage, all hyped up on energy while she was still curled up in her pajamas. However, it was noon for Anne. The two of them had started texting earlier in the tour, sharing cute photos they found and keeping each other updated on the information Harry shared with each of them, since it was sometimes few and far between. She sent the photo of Harry and a fan she had found on Twitter, along with a funny video of him talking to the crowd, to Anne.

Anne, unlike Harry, seemed to having nothing better to do. Sweet! She texted back practically immediately. Early for you, love, what are you doing up?

Well if she couldn’t get the distraction from Harry, maybe she could get it from his mother. Woke up not feeling well she wrote back. Drinking a cup of tea. Tried to talk to Harry but realized it’s after ten where he’s at!

Oh no! What’s hurting, love?

She smiled. Anne had always been so sweet to her. My stomach’s upset she replied. Feeling better now, but woke me up and can’t get back to sleep now

Tea heals anything, I always tell Harry :) xx

He tells me the same! He was such a mommy’s boy, she thought with a smile.

Feel better love. Love you!

Anne had started sending that a few weeks ago and every time she got it, it warmed her heart. She was so like her son, so giving with her love and affection. They’d actually gotten quite close through their texts, not having had much of a chance to spend time together since she’d started dating Harry. She was hopeful for the holidays, when she would be visiting Holmes Chapel with him for Christmas, the prospect of a white Christmas incredibly appealing.

Love you too! x she sent back, locking her phone and picking up her now steeped cup of tea. She added some milk and stirred it, absentmindedly thinking of what her day would hold. There was a big deal on the table for the agency and Y/N had been tapped as the associate on the project. If she got the deal it could mean huge things for her career—maybe putting her in line for the promotion that she’d been passed over for a month ago.

She grabbed her laptop from the counter and made her way to the counter, deciding to look over the brief she had been working on the previous day while she drank her tea. Maybe it would distract her from the horrific metallic taste in her mouth, probably left over from the nausea.

An hour later, her phone started ringing next to her, the tell-tale sound of a FaceTime call. Harry. She picked it up, shutting her laptop and settling into the pillows as the call connected. Suddenly, her boyfriend’s face filled her screen, damp hair from a shower and a loose t-shirt covering his chest.

“Hi you!” He said, voice bright and cheery from the rush of performing. “What’re you doing up so early?”

“Woke up sick again,” she replied, giving him the best smile she could muster.

He frowned at her sentence, his face shifting in the screen. Then, she saw a couch cushion appear—he was settling in for her. “What do you mean again?”

“Happened earlier in the week—this is actually the fourth time this week.”

His eyebrows scrunched together, obviously worried. “What do you mean by sick? Like, vomit sick?” She nodded and his eyes softened. “I’m sorry, love. Wish I could be there to give you some kisses and hold your hair back.”

Until he said that, the thought hadn’t crossed her mind of how nice it would be to have him there to rub her back and make her a cup of tea. “Got a cup of tea,” she told him, “so it’s almost like you’re here.”

He chuckled and then lifted a cup of what seemed to be his own. “Twins!”

“How was the show?” She asked, tugging the blanket up to cover her shoulders. Her eyes were starting to get heavy, the couch cushions and Harry’s voice bringing her closer to sleep.

“Good,” he replied. “Look sleepy, love—have you been getting enough rest?”

She had actually. More than usual too. She fell asleep at 9pm last night and slept through to 5am, and probably could’ve slept longer. “Yeah, plenty of sleep. Dunno, just feel so exhausted lately—like deep muscle. You know what I mean?”

“Very well,” he told her. “Workin’ too hard, baby. Can you take a day off sometime soon?”

“No, we’ve got that big deal in the works.” She had told him about it a few days ago, but he seemed to have forgotten it, the days running together. She didn’t blame him for it.

“Right,” he replied. “Well, try to take an easy weekend, okay? Your body seems to be telling you to get it together.”

She laughed with him, the sound of his laugh warming her heard. “Tell me about Australia,” she requested and listened intently to him describe the landscape and the people and the food. Listening to him talk, even if it was about things like these, made him feel closer to her, his voice healing a part of her that was emptier with each passing day.

After work at the end of the week, Hanna and Jamie dragged Y/N out to drinks, telling her she needed to get out and let loose after moping about Harry all week. He hadn’t been able to talk since their call when she woke up sick and it was nagging at her. His texts had been short and she missed knowing about his days. They took her to their favorite Mexican place for happy hour, a big margarita sat in front of her. It was their favorite spot and they’d been going there for ages.

“I am ready for a marg!” Hanna said when she arrived from her shift. She was a third-grade teacher at a school close to Y/N and you could tell from her harried hair and disheveled shirt. But she also looked happy, alive—she loved her job and the kids who she helped. She slid into the booth next to Y/N, wrapping her arms around her best friend.

“We already got chips and guac,” Jamie told her, “and your margarita is on its way.”

“Bless you,” Hanna said, throwing off her jacket. “And thank god you got Y/N to come with you. I was worried she was going to back out!”

Y/N whacked her best friend’s arm. “You do know I’m right here, right?”

Their waiter came up then, a basket of warm tortilla chips and a heaping bowl of guacamole and three margaritas balanced on a tray. He was cute, Y/N thought her to herself, soft curls and a wide smile that reminded her of Harry. Or maybe, she realized, she only thought he was attractive because he looked like Harry.

He settled their food and drinks on the table and told them he’d be back to check in in a bit if they needed anything else. Usually their group just ended up eating appetizers for dinner, though, all of them happy to focus on chips and various dips rather than a proper dinner.

“How was your day?” Jamie asked Hanna. “Looks like a long one.”

Hanna rolled her eyes and took a long sip of her marg. “It wasn’t too bad. That kid I told you about—Noah? He finally got long division, so I’m calling it a win.”

“Let’s drink to that!” Y/N said, lifting her glass for her best friend, smiling as they clinked glasses. Hanna was right, she did need to get out a bit, see her friends, do something other than watch TV and wait for Harry to call like a lovesick puppy. She took a long sip of her frozen margarita, the cold temperature giving her a bit of a brain freeze.

Hanna continued talking about her day, the students, the weird things the other teachers said and did. Meanwhile, Y/N grabbed a chip and dug into the guacamole. But the minute she lifted it close to her face, her stomach convulsed, the smell making her want to throw up. She dropped the chip to her plate and covered her mouth, trying to hold back the desire to vomit all over the table.

“Y/N?” Jamie asked, looking over at her pained expression. “What’s wrong?”

“Stomach,” she managed to say, and Jamie’s eyes widened in understanding. She’d told him a few days ago about what was happening, hoping he might have ideas for things to do, but he just gave her disgusting-sounding homeopathic ideas that she couldn’t manage to stomach the idea of, much less the smell of.

“Not guac,” Hanna said, making the connection between the rejected food in front of Y/N and her pain. “It’s your favorite.”

Y/N shook her head, finally able to swallow, the acidic flavor in her mouth receding slightly. After a long sip of water, she cleared her throat. “Not anymore, it seems.”

Hanna rubbed her best friend’s back, worried look in her eyes. “Have you talked to your doctor yet?”

Y/N shook her head before taking another sip. “I thought it would subside, you know? But it hasn’t, so I guess I probably should.”

“It’s probably nothing,” Jamie reassured her, “but it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

She nodded. And even if they said there was nothing wrong, at least she’d know and wouldn’t worry as much. She really hoped it was nothing—she had the deal to finish and the last thing she needed was to discover she had pneumonia or something.

The following Tuesday, she waited patiently in the office of her doctor, who she’d been going to ever since she was a teenager and she aged out of her pediatrician. The same vinyl grey chairs and weird motivational phrases on the walls that always managed to actually inspired Y/N, despite the fact that they were quite cheesy. When she signed in, Melinda at the front desk asked about her father, and Y/N told her he was well, looking forward to the holidays, as was she.

“Y/N?” She looked up and the nurse, Tricia, was standing in the doorway. “Come on back, sweetheart.”

Even at 23, nearly 24, Y/N still loved being called sweetheart by women like Tricia. She gathered her work bag, having left work a bit early to squeeze the appointment into her schedule, and followed Tricia back. “How are you?” She asked, smiling at the older woman who guided her into one of the patient rooms.

“Well,” Tricia replied, shutting the door and grabbing the thermometer and a sleeve from their spot on the desk. “Brandon’s started kindergarten this year, so we’re all very excited.” Brandon was her son who Y/N had been hearing about through Tricia since she’d first started coming here. He had two kids now, both who Y/N had seen grow up through photos on Tricia’s phone. “I’ll show you after your tests,” she said, knowing Y/N would ask.

“Can’t wait,” she replied, opening her mouth so Tricia could take her temperature.

“So, what brings you in today, love? Haven’t been in in a while”

“I’ve been having these stomach problems,” she explained. “About a week and a half now? They’ll wake me up in the middle of the night or in the morning, sometimes throughout the day. Usually I’ll have to throw up, but sometimes I can hold it back. Happened last week when I went for drinks with some friends too.” Tricia’s eyebrows furrowed as she checked Y/N’s heart and her breathing. “I thought it was just bad food or something at first, but if it was that it would’ve passed by now, so thought I’d come in and get it checked out.”

Tricia nodded, stepping away to take off her gloves and wash her hands. “Good idea, love. Any other symptoms?”

Y/N shook her head. “I’ve had a bit of a weird taste in my mouth sometimes. Maybe metallic you could say? But it’s been here and there, thought it was related to the nausea.”

The nurse made a note of it on the chart before looking back up at her. “I want to do a pregnancy test, just to be sure. That would be the easiest explanation for this, so want it to get crossed off before the doc comes in.”

Pregnancy? Y/N’s mind ran wild. How would that be the easiest explanation? That would be the last possible good explanation for this, she thought. “Sure,” she replied. “But I’m on birth control, so I doubt it’s that.”

“Of course,” Tricia told her. She rummaged through the cabinets before pulling out a cup. “Can you pee in this for me darlin’? The bathroom is just down the hall. You can leave it in there when you’re done and I’ll come grab it.”

Y/N nodded and went down the hall, cup in hand, feeling her stomach queasy for reasons completely unrelated to the normal ones. Even though she knew it was unlikely, the thought had her panicking—could she be pregnant? She’d had her period…right? Her periods had always been relatively irregular. Birth control had actually been supposed to regulate them when she went on it, and for the most part it had, but there were still months sometimes where she missed a cycle.

When she reached the bathroom, she shut the door tightly, eyes trained on the toilet. She hated peeing in a cup. It felt so disgusting for some reason, giving her urine to someone else. But she pulled down her pants, stuck the cup under her vagina, and waited. If she didn’t do this she’d probably have to do blood work, which was worse. Finally, she filled the cup and she set it on the counter, pulling up her pants and flushing the toilet. She washed her hands and brushed her hair back in the mirror, trying to settle her mind. And nerves.

Tricia popped in after her for the cup and told Y/N to wait in the room for her to return with the results. The wait was horrific. Y/N just had to sit on the plastic bed, the sheet crinkled under her thighs, mind turning over and over the possibility of being pregnant. Her eyes were trained on the clock, watching the seconds tick by as she waited for Tricia to knock on the door. She wished she could text Harry, but he was asleep in Japan right now, preparing for the final nights of the tour. He’d be home on Sunday and she couldn’t wait to see him, the thought filling her heart immediately.

A knock came from the door and then her doctor—Dr. Terrell, popped her head in. “Y/N?”

“Hi,” she replied. She wasn’t expecting for the doctor to come in immediately. It should’ve been Tricia.

Dr. Terrell shut the door and sat down on the stool opposite Y/N, her scrubs crinkling as she sat. “So I know this might come as a shock,” she started, meeting Y/N’s eyes, “but you’re pregnant.”

All the air left Y/N’s body in a single instant, mind whirring at a million miles an hour. “What?” She asked, breathless, trying to process the word. Pregnant.

“You seem to be about eight weeks along,” Dr. Terrell explained.

“But I’m on the pill,” Y/N said, voice a whisper as her brain searched for an explanation.

“Unfortunately the pill is only 91% affective,” her doctor replied. “And that’s at its best precision. Do you and your partner use condoms as well?”

Y/N stilled. She had told Harry months ago that they didn’t need to use them—she didn’t see a point. In her mind, they weren’t seeing anyone else, so there was no need to worry about STIs. Pregnancy hadn’t crossed her mind. She always took her birth control, like clockwork. “No,” she said, “but we stopped months ago. We…why did this happen now?”

Dr. Terrell sighed, a hand reaching out to grip Y/N’s knee. “I don’t know, sweetheart. Sometimes things happen—maybe you were off by a couple hours or he just had particularly determined sperm, or something else entirely.” Y/N knew she was trying to be funny, but humor was the last thing on her mind right now. All she could think about was her, having a baby. With Harry.

Harry. He wasn’t ready to be a father anymore than Y/N. He’d just launched his solo career, he’d just done his first movie—he was busier than ever. They’d already been having problems with the distance, and that was just with the two of them to worry about. But a third person in the mix? The idea had her sweating in the small office room.

“I want you to know that you have options,” Dr. Terrell said slowly and Y/N lifted her head. Options. That meant the option of not having the child, of giving them up. “You’re still early enough along that abortion is an option. And adoption is definitely an option as well, if you decide that’s best.”

She could never do adoption, she thought. She seriously doubted that Harry’s team would ever let a mini Harry be out there in the world, the safety risks so high she couldn’t even imagine them all. “I—I don’t know...” She tried to find the words, but she couldn’t, her thoughts a jumbled mess in her brain.

Dr. Terrell stood and in an uncharacteristically maternal move, swept Y/N into her arms. “I know this is a lot,” she said softly. “But remember, you’re love and supported and you’re not alone in this. Is…is the father in the picture?” She asked hesitantly.

“Yes,” Y/N said, the one question she had a firm answer for. “But he’s out of town right now.”

“Okay,” Dr. Terrell said. “Well, why don’t you talk to him and see what you want to do, okay? And there’s no rush right now. You should go see your OB/GYN and they’ll give you more information about everything.”

A thought suddenly popped into Y/N’s head. “I—can I hear the heartbeat yet?”

Dr. Terrell nodded. “Yes, you should be able to. You can definitely see the fetus, though.”

The idea of Harry standing with her in her OB/GYN’s office listening to their baby’s heartbeat and looking at their child had tears welling in her eyes. When had she gotten so emotional? “I’m sorry,” she said, reaching for the tissue Dr. Terrell passed her.

“Don’t be,” she reassured her with a smile. “Blame it on your hormones right now.”

Oh. The pregnancy. She looked down at her belly, which looked completely normal, but now held another human. A child. Her child. “Thank you,” she said, standing, suddenly the need to be anywhere but here crashing into her like a ton of bricks. “Is there anything else?”

“No,” Dr. Terrell told her. “Just check out at the front and they’ll get you squared away. Now, if you need anything, please call me, okay dear?”

Y/N nodded and picked up her bag, making her way down the hall to the check out. She couldn’t help but look at her body in the mirror as she passed it, reveling at how if no one had told her, she never would’ve even noticed.

Y/N sat in her bed, an open copy of What to Expect When You’re Expecting! lying on her bed, a box of tissues next to her. It was a Friday night, two days until Harry was home, and she was in bed crying over her newly discovered pregnancy.

It wasn’t the pregnancy itself that had her freaking out, necessarily. It was the fact that she had absolutely no idea what she was going to tell Harry. They had never even broached the subject—they’d barely been together a year, after all. She knew he wanted kids, but definitely not right now. Neither was she, the idea something she had expected in her late twenties, even early thirties. She had always wanted to make sure she had found the right person, someone stable, someone who would be there for her through the whole process, start to finish. It was part of the reason for the rule she’d made ages ago, the very one she had broken when she met Harry. It was to keep her safe from this exact situation.

And now she was having a kid with one of the biggest popstars in the world.

It was her worst nightmare come true.

TAGLIST:

@smokeinherperfume @afire-hes @harryinsweatersandbandanas @marinalima3 @havethetimeofyourstyles @ursogoldenshan @inmygardensuit @marinalima3 @amaridon @harrys-watermelons @dontgiveupthedayjob @cronias13 @apples2019 @laula843 @afterstylesmadeit @kait-brin @harrys-watermelons @groovybaybee @clumsywithlove93 @1142590m @erin0717 @ketchuplukehemmo @detroitkiwis @meetmeinfleetwood @kakaym

Would you like to know when I update The Only Exception? Let me know here!

NEXT CHAPTER COMING JULY 18TH @ NOON CST

#Harry Styles Fan Fiction #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles drabble #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles dad

242 notes · View notes

lipstickbisous · 3 years

Note

sʟᴇᴇᴘᴏᴠᴇʀ! sʟᴇᴇᴘᴏᴠᴇʀ! sʟᴇᴇᴘᴏᴠᴇʀ!

okay so let’s get into some song character scenarios!!! 🎼💗💫 ps: i’m sending this to you again because I don’t think you got it the first tim ro sent it :( but super srry if i’m sending it twice! 🥺💗

rules || you listen to the song and based on the characters I give you m, place a simple scenario for each and everyone!

song || mirrored heart by fka twigs

characters || ransom drysdale, andy barber, steve rogers

scenario’s per character || you pick! 💕💕💕

omg wait but the fact that i played this song on repeat for a whole month 🥺🥺🥺💞💞and i didn’t get two of these i think the first just got lost!! 💘💘 also i did nottt watch defending jacob 😬 so ima make it up for andy

warnings: angst!! all of these have angst, one has a briefff mention of sex and the other is just a reg mention

RANSOM DRYSDALE

“it’s all for the lovers trying to fuck away the pain.”

it’s just one more hard thrust and he’ll bring you both to an overdue climax. in the moment that ransom has, just a split-second to think to himself, he does just that. while he’s buried inside you, your face pressed against a pillow to suppress any noises—although they drove ransom wild—he thought to himself.

was there any reasoning for what he was doing? most likely not, but if he were to confess any feelings he had, ransom was sure you’d never show your face around him again. rightfully so, since you knew who he was and was smart enough to stay away. but that didn’t you couldn’t have a few nights of fun. ransom had agreed and you’d even offered to form a contract as a joke, but he had only grumbled in response and was quick to start stripping you of your clothes.

there was a physical pain in his chest whenever his mind would flash to you. was knowing that you could never be his supposed to hurt? never having been loved himself or having to show love to anyone else, so perhaps that part was a bit frightening to him.

ransom was literally and metaphorically fucked. here you were, naked in all of your glory, in front of him like it was nothing. the most beautiful woman on the planet and he wasn’t supposed to fall in...love? fuck, that.

he pushes his lips towards yours, engulfing your moan into his throat and silencing any sounds you could make in protest. there weren’t any signs of affection to be shown when you two were together because there was no affection—supposedly. ransom doesn’t break the kiss either. he pushes the last thrust, spilling himself inside you and letting himself reveal a groan that came deep from his chest. it was strange to hear any sort of noise come from him considering that he always kept silent during these midnight meetings you two had.

his lips were still connected to yours—you weren’t exactly complaining but it wasn’t how you were planning your night to go—until he pulled himself away from you. the air that hit your skin when he distanced himself was cold and you slightly shivered, but it was soon replaced by the heat of his naked chest. you didn’t budge underneath him.

instead, you wrapped your arms around his neck and held him close while he sobbed, because ransom knew that the feeling was unrequited.

ANDY BARBER

“though i’m probably gonna think about you all the time.”

his fingers were delicately wrapped around a pen, holding the ballpoint inches away from the paper. two seconds of his time, a small scribble, and no more were you his. no more nights of holding each other until sleep came, no more breakfasts in bed, no more sudden vacations to the woods or the lake.

andy has lost his son and wife. and somehow—in the midst of his alcohol-induced rants and panicked episodes—he had found you. a rock to find comfort and shelter on in the middle of an unforgiving ocean. that’s what you were.

it was almost cathartic really. you were some sort of therapeutic relief to him and he was just lucky you loved him back. never, never could he replace jacob, andy wouldn’t even try. and it pained him to even think about replacing laurie, but you were so much than a replacement. you were something incredibly new to him that andy felt...young again.

and now, you had jsut filed for a divorce. gone, just like laurie and just like jacob. hed proposed in a silly way but you knew that with given history he wouldn’t offer much and it was enough for you. you weren’t a girl that needed everything in the world—as long as you had a man who was loyal and loving, a home to live in, and a job that paid well, you couldn’t ask for more.

so why were you leaving him? wasn’t he that loyal and loving man?

his hand was frozen above the paper and your lawyer cleared her voice, bringing andy back to the sick reality he was growing tired of. jacob would’ve been about 20 now. laurie would still be his wife. he never would’ve met you and everything would he just fine.

but andy didn’t regret one part of it.

STEVE ROGERS

“they just remind me i’m without you.”

he was with her now and that was all that was important. he had lived a lifetime, hopefully cherished it, and although she had passed long ago by now, he still had children, grandchildren even, to tell his story to.

you were with no one and that didn’t seem important at all. your steve was no longer yours and there was nothing you could do. he was a wrinkle-eyed man with white hair and a quakey voice. you were a young girl and you were now alone.

at first, you had refused to speak to him. but it was strange to see a man you loved with all your heart one second, and then the next to see him with eyes full of experience. steve had lived his life, only it was with someone else and that shattered your heart. he seemed kind and wise in your conversation, and hed even held your hand, but it wasn’t the same. it wasn’t the way he’d held it after a long mission or when you came back after 5 years. he held it like a grandfather watching over you.

you’d tried to pursue others. he had even encouraged it and when you had your second conversation, he asked if you had met anyone. you tried to tell him yes, but how stupid of you to think that steve rogers—a man you loved for years and knew by heart—would see through a lie.

in all honesty, you didn’t want love anymore. you didn’t want a relationship with anyone and you were perfectly content with being by yourself. you didn’t even want steve, but it still hurt to think that there was a woman he loved more.

ergo, the mindless nights spent with someone else in your bed. you would either be high off of a joint, drunk off of wine, or completely sober, but it was a strict rule that your guest would always leave before nine in the morning. and the best part was that steve didn’t need to know about your reckless behavior. he was happy living in a suburban home, sitting on his front poarch, reading a book or drinking tea.

but no one was steve rogers to you. no man touched you like he did or even treated you like he did. two years after he’d returned gray-haired, you received an invitation...to a funeral. and if that wasn’t the worst day of your life, you weren’t sure what was. but it was on that day, that you realized you would truly never see your steve. no more cuddles in the avengers compound with the young him or walks throughout his new neighborhood with the old him.

he was truly, irrevocably gone.

#FUCK WHYD I DO THIS #IM SORRY #IT WASNT SUPPOSED TO TURN THAT SAD #rosie! 🌹✨💞#1k celebration!#i’m sorry this took so long dkfjdksk #steve rogers angst #steve rogers x reader #ransom drysdale angst #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale x reader #andy barber angst #andy barber x reader

37 notes · View notes

sondepoch · 4 years

Text

Part 1

Paramour (Diavolo x Reader)

You love Diavolo. And Diavolo loves you. But in the Devildom, relationships aren't as straightforward as that—and Diavolo being the future ruler of the Devildom certainly complicates things. So when you learn that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you, a human, you're overjoyed. Yet, there are still issues. Big issues. Diavolo wants you to be his paramour—whatever that means. But you want to be his wife. And with each passing moment, it's beginning to feel like even love can't bridge the gap between your worlds.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | ✔

MASTERLIST

Tonight will be a night you will never forget. And not just because this is a party that only happens once every one thousand years, or because of the stunning decor of the castle, or even because of how radiant you know you look in this dress, hand-picked by Diavolo.

No.

It is a night you will never forget because tonight will be the night Diavolo proposes to you.

You smile softly, remembering how you'd slipped out of the prince's arms this morning to surprise him by dressing in his shirt—something you'd learned early on that Diavolo absolutely adores—only to find a gorgeous ring in his pocket. As soon as you opened the velvety box and caught a glimpse of the diamond jewel, you'd shut it, not wanting to ruin any more of your surprise.

But you haven't been able to keep a smile off your face all day.

"Are you enjoying the party, darling?" Diavolo asks when he comes up from behind you, running his fingers up and down the length of your arm, another habit you'd learned that he enjoys. "Why are you hidden away on the balcony like this?"

"The sky is too beautiful to miss," You remark. You lean into Diavolo's arms and look up. Back home, you'd thought that the most beautiful sky belonged to the night: when stars rise to decorate the carpet of black draped above like gemstones woven into silk. But after coming to the Devildom, you'd found that the true sight to behold was a Devildom sunset: a sky redder than blood but brighter all the same, orange and yellow stars flying across in a perpetual state of movement and change. And tonight, there's a spot of carmine in the center: a vermillion scar that peels back at the sky itself as a comet drags on by.

"Truly beautiful," Diavolo murmurs in agreement, though his eyes are latched onto you as he says the words.

You let out a light giggle, knowing the real meaning to his words.

"Is this what you do every morning when you escape my arms? Watch the sunrise like this?"

"What else?" You murmur. Though this morning, you'd done a little more than just that. You turn and face Diavolo, cupping his cheek as you give him a chaste kiss. The fabric of your dress is thin, and you try to drag your body close to his to see if you can feel the outline of a ring anywhere on his pockets...to no avail.

"My love, how would you like to see sunrises and sunsets like this forever?" Diavolo murmurs, lacing his fingers in yours. He pulls your gaze up to meet his own with a single finger under your chin. "For tonight and all nights to come?"

A smile blooms on your lips.

You already know what is happening.

Diavolo pulls away to kneel on one knee, never letting go of your hand. He gives it a sultry kiss and looks up at you, eyes locked onto yours.

"MC of the human world, mortal of our immortal love, would you honor me by being at my side?" Diavolo smiles. "From now, until the end of time?"

"Yes," You whisper, breathless. Unable to pull the demon lord up (goodness, with those muscles he's easily double your weight), you lean forward and thrust yourself into his arms, wrapping your limbs around him tightly, basking in his laugh as he returns the embrace.

Is this heaven?

You're grounded in hell, but the happiness flooding your body seems to be lifting you into an entirely new state of being. Your stomach literally feels like it's on fire, burning bright with excitement for the future. It's as if your life has changed with these words, and as if you're no longer just MC, but MC of MC and Diavolo. As if, with that proposal, the demon has made himself a part of you.

And the sheer joy of getting to share your life with another is all you need to be happy forever and ever.

This feeling is so much better than you'd thought it would be.

You knew he would ask, but hearing the words leave Diavolo's lips gave them a different weight than simply seeing a ring in a box. Where is the ring, anyway? Oh, Diavolo probably wants to give it to me later. You push the thoughts from your mind and hold him tighter, and the prince smiles.

Still wrapped around his body, Diavolo rises and places you on the golden balustrade, admiring the sight before him.

"Thank you, my love. You truly are...perfect." Diavolo murmurs, giving you a kiss. From there, he trails to your neck, going lower and lower. Occasionally, he stops to give a spot of skin a tender suck, but as soon as a moan leaves your lips, he's reminded of his goal and continues downward until his head is directly between your thighs.

"D-Diavolo," You murmur as he presses kisses to the skin. "People will see."

"Let them," He mutter, leaning forward and ravishing you as if you're his last meal. It only then strikes you that Diavolo had planned this. All of this.

You smile as you lean your head back, letting your moans add to the noise of the chattering from within the castle. Such a perfect man, you realize. He'd known you would say yes, of course. It was probably at his instruction that Mammon had chased you to this balcony in the first place. Diavolo had probably even selected this dress because of how it gave him access to the warmth between your legs that he loved so.

"P-people," You stutter out, voice broken by pleasure. "G-going...to stare..." You thread your hand in Diavolo's locks, weakly trying to pull his head away, but in truth you don't want him to stop. A demon who's lived for literal thousands of years, Diavolo knows his way around your body better than you do, and he's always been able to bring you to paradise. Especially with that tongue of his.

"Let them stare," Diavolo mumbles as climax washes over you. "You're mine. All mine. My paramour."

At the back of your mind, something twists at the word. Paramour? Perhaps it means something different in the Devildom. But before you can think more about how humans consider a paramour to be more a mistress than a lover, Diavolo's lips are on your own and all your thoughts drift back to him.

"Shall we return to the party, darling?" He asks. Diavolo smiles his usual teasing smile, instantly back to normal. He winks, acting as if he hadn't just done something horribly indecent where any passing demon could have seen.

"Yes," You mumble, taking his arm. As he guides you back to the ballroom and invites you to dance, you can't help but feel like things are different now. My lover. You recall his words. From now, until the end of time.

Another wave of glee washes through you.

"I love you," You murmur as the waltz slows. Diavolo gives you his usual Prince Charming grin, spinning you in time with the music.

"And I love you," He steals a kiss from your lips. "You're so perfect, MC. I never should have been worried. Everything about you is just so...perfect."

"Aw, were you worried that I wouldn't say yes?" You ask, swaying with him. You bring the hand resting on his shoulder to his cheek.

"Only a little," Diavolo confesses. "I wasn't sure how you'd feel about this whole situation...I know it's different from what humans are used to."

"Different?" You laugh. "Even dating you was different from what humans are used to, given that you're—you know—a demon and all."

"But you love me anyway~" Diavolo cooes.

"But I love you anyway," You agree.

You two must dance for hours, merely waltzing back and forth. All around you, the couples change, stepping on and off the dance floor, but you and Diavolo remain. Arms around his neck, head resting against the firmness of his chest, you two are swaying more than you are dancing. Holding each other, more than you are moving. Loving, more than expressing.

The moment is so delicate. Truly precious. Untouched even by time, as the grandfather clock indicates that another hour has passed.

But like all good things, it too comes to an end.

"Now that you're my paramour," Diavolo murmurs softly, causing your ears to perk up. There's that word again. "I only have one other thing to do. Excuse me, my love."

You give the man a kiss on the cheek as he guides you off the dance floor, leaving you with Lucifer. The two of you busy yourselves with a glass of wine—Diavolo had brought champagne to the party specifically for you.

"It's not bad," Lucifer remarks. "But I must say that I prefer our Devildom alcohols more."

You laugh, taking another sip of your wine, continuing to make small talk with Lucifer. It's been a while since you left the House of Lamentation to come live with Diavolo, but there are more than enough times when you miss the chaotic demon brothers.

Unbeknownst to you, those two minutes while you chat with Lucifer are perhaps the last minutes to true happiness you feel for a very long time. You'll later wish you'd savored the moment more as you spoke with the demon, a small smile on your face with your mind half-lost in thoughts about the future you and Diavolo would be embarking upon. It's a moment of contentment, a moment of peace.

But blissful as it is, it's also a prelude to what must be true misery.

Because all good things must come to an end.

And this day has been far too good.

Or—later, you might realize—perhaps the entire day had been bad, with yourself only being too foolish to understand it? Perhaps this whole thing was, in truth, nothing but the calm before the storm?

Whatever the truth may be, the fact is that the moment you lay your eyes upon Diavolo, you're shattered. And with each word that leaves his mouth, you find your heart breaking into smaller and smaller pieces.

"Honored guests and friends alike, I have an announcement to make." Your eyes widen. At the top of the staircase from where Diavolo had begun the party, he now stands in his demon form, arm-in-arm with another demon. A woman. An exquisitely beautiful one, at that.

"The time for my coronation as king of the Devildom nears, and a king is nothing without a queen beside him. So it is with utmost esteem that I ask this question to my lady."

You watch in a queer mix of pain, confusion, and anger, as Diavolo drops to one knee in front of the woman. You want to close your eyes, want to look away. You can feel Lucifer's gaze on you, watching to see your response, but you can't bring yourself to care. Your mind is a mess. What is going on? You wonder as tears threaten to leave your eyes. Why is he proposing to another woman?

And then you see a shine in his hands as he opens a black velvet box, the very same box you'd opened this morning; and in this light, with this decor, the ring seems to glisten even more beautifully than the stars in the sky that you love so. "Would you, my fair lady, honor me by being my wife? From now, until the end of time?"

And at this moment, when you're positively certain that your heart cannot break any more, you feel the final blow come: with the soft but clear "yes" that echoes through the hall.

Then, chaos.

That's the only word for what happens next.

Chaos everywhere.

All around you, demons cheer and begin whooping in celebration for what they just witnessed. But at the same time, their haphazard chanting can't begin to compare to the distressed frenzy that your mind is in as you tear your way out of the hall, ignoring Lucifer's desperate cries of your name.

Only once you've found shelter behind closed doors do you allow yourself to give in to your emotions. You drop to the ground, clutching it for support when it feels as if the very foundation of your spirit has been ripped out. All you can think about is the image of what just happened: Diavolo, on one knee in front of another woman, holding the ring that you had thought was meant for you.

The only thing that drowns out your broken sobs is the sound of demons as they cheer and laugh, congratulating their lord for his new engagement.

***

Diavolo should have known better.

That's what Lucifer says, at least.

"Did you not account for the fact that she has no understanding of our customs, Diavolo?" The demon practically shouts, causing the prince to flinch. Diavolo is beyond used to Lucifer's wrath, but he's accustomed to seeing it directed at others. Never himself. And on any other occasion, Diavolo would have sharply reminded Lucifer of his place. But as the younger demon continues to rant angrily, even Barbatos stands silently, knowing full-well that Diavolo deserves every bit of it.

"And you! You're the prince! You've been a demon for thousands of years, you know what human customs are like! Their obsession with commitment and having a single spouse is one of the very reasons why they've always believed our polygamic traditions to be evil! No self-respecting human would ever agree to be a paramour—does MC even know what a paramour is?"

Diavolo looks away, shame flooding him. He's never felt this way. He's the future king, for crying out loud. "I had assumed that it was a part of RAD's curriculum. I thought it was all covered in Demon Studies."

"Diavolo," Lucifer begins, pinching the spot between his eyebrows. "The curriculum is designed for demons, not humans. Demon Studies isn't about demon culture, it's about demon history. Important wars. Famous battles. Reputed commanders. Major e-"

"Yes. I get it, Lucifer." Diavolo puts a hand up, silencing the man in front of him. "What's done is done. I know you are upset with me, but we have to figure out what to do about MC."

"My lord?" Barbatos interrupts. "She still hasn't left her room. She isn't responding to my knocks, either."

"Has she escaped?" Lucifer asks, startled.

"No," Barbatos pauses for a moment. "But unless my lord does something, she plans to."

"Thanks," Diavolo mumbles sarcastically, resting his forehead on his palm. Twelve hours ago, things had been going so well. MC had actually agreed to be his paramour—or well, now he knows that she thought he was asking her to be his wife, goodness—and he was finally free to propose to the powerful she-demon that he'd always intended on marrying. And of course, the demon had said yes, and Diavolo's life couldn't be more perfect: he had his wife, his future kingdom to inherit, and his paramour.

And now he's lost the single most important thing from that list.

You.

"I'm going to speak to her," Diavolo blurts, rising. "I need her to understand what I was proposing...and what her new role is. The moment she said yes, she was bound to me by contract. She has to at least try to understand-"

"Diavolo, you can't possibly expect that the contract properly formed under those circumstances."

Diavolo quiets Lucifer in an instant, unbuttoning his shirt to reveal the tattoos that covered his lower body. To anyone else, little change would be noticeable. A prince, Diavolo had been blessed hundreds of times over, and thus had a plethora of protective spells materialized on his skin. But to his right-hand man, who knows Diavolo better than the prince perhaps knows himself, the new tattoo stands out: a small design, just above the V that dips beneath Diavolo's pants.

"The contract...actually formed?" Lucifer mutters in disbelief. "Diavolo, these aren't the standard characters of paramour contract. The markings read 'true lover.' Surely you understand that it is a warning of—"

"It means that MC is my true lover," Diavolo interrupts before Lucifer can dirty the meaning with any other notion. "And that I am hers. If I have the mark, she has it as well. The gods of hell have recognized our union."

"My lord, what if she does not wish to be yours?" Barbatos ventures. "She is a human, after all. They are known to be fickle. And paramour is not a word they consider positive, by any means."

Diavolo doesn't respond. Like his events, his plans are reckless and more driven by emotion than logic and reason.

MC will understand, won't she? Diavolo tries to console himself with the thought. Your understanding and compassionate nature was part of the reason why Diavolo fell in love with you in the first place. You'll understand. You have to.

Diavolo doesn't know what he'll do if you don't.

***

Since coming to the Devildom, you've felt a lot of things. Excitement, at the prospect of new classmates. Frustration, at the antics of your roommates in the House of Lamentation. Worry, when you grew intimate with Diavolo and had to keep it a secret. Happiness, when the two of you decided to finally announce your relationship. And sadness—lots of it—after the events that transpired yesterday.

But this is the first time you've felt such fury.

"You're telling me," You mutter, too livid to even look at the man you'd once been proud to call your lover. "That when you proposed to me yesterday you were asking me to be your paramour? And that by accepting, I gave you permission to take another wife?!"

"Not another wife..." DIavolo trails off, not meeting your gaze. But when he sees you clench your fists and grow even angrier, he's quick to continue. "She's the only one! I won't take any other wives!"

"Does it make a difference? It doesn't matter if there's one other woman or one million in your life. How do you expect me to be okay with this? Why would any woman be okay with this? Who in their right mind would consent to being a paramour?! A paramour is just a glorified concubine—you keep her in your castle because you love her, but she's not good enough to be by your side and be called your 'wife.'"

"No, no, no." Diavolo stands up and forces you to meet his eyes, forces you to see how sincere he is. But somehow, the fact that he genuinely believes that the concept of a paramour is even okay only further enrages you. "Wives and paramours are different, you can't compare them. I know it's different from the human world, but in the Devildom, all the little girls grow up wanting to be paramours. A paramour is special. A person takes a paramour only out of love, not for her last name or her rank or her title. It's the better one. A wife is just someone who bears children. Nothing more. As soon as I have an heir, I won't even need to think about my wife! It'll just be you, my sweet, sweet paramour, and—"

"How can you truly love me if you have children with another woman? Don't act like a wife is nothing special. There's a reason why we in the human world say that the most sacred bond a man and woman can have is that of a husband and wife. You've chosen this woman. You want her. For her looks, for her nobility, her title, her—"

"Her fertility," Diavolo interrupts. "That is all. She bears our relationship no harm."

"You're asking me to be a glorified concubine." You repeat, scowling. "A mistress. The other woman."

"These are human concepts you're bringing in, dear," Diavolo murmurs. "You are my only love. And...MC, you physically cannot be my wife. You..."

You narrow your eyes, daring Diavolo to finish that sentence.

And foolishly, he does.

"You can bear me no children."

You raise your hand, poising it to slap Diavolo across the cheek, when you hesitate. Why? Why should you waste a single second more on this man who would never be fully committed to you? He's already made it clear that he won't be canceling the engagement he has with his future wife.

And you refuse to be any man's side piece.

"Get out." You scowl.

"MC, please, you know that I—"

"If you won't get out, I will."

Before you can leave the room, though, Diavolo has pulled you into his lap. "Let go," You hiss, thrashing in his arms. But the man is a demon, future lord of the Devildom, and is truly the strongest man in the entire kingdom. And you're just a human. Faced with his strength, you're nothing.

"Darling, please. Please. Just let me speak. Give me one minute. That's all I need. One minute." Slowly, you cease your movement. It's a silent indication that, yes, you'll give Diavolo a minute to speak. But no more.

"Darling, I love you. You are everything. I love you so much, and when I asked you to be mine...I truly thought you knew that I was asking you to be my paramour. I am sorry for the distress I have caused you these past hours." Diavolo places a soft kiss to your neck, letting his lips lay on what is normally your weak spot. But when you don't respond, he opts to continue.

"But there's something you need to see. A...a proposal to a paramour in the Devildom is sacred. I know you don't see it that way, but it is even more sacred than a proposal to a wife. And...it's viewed as a contract." Diavolo slowly lifts the edge of your shirt up. Your hands instantly go down to cover yourself, not wanting to give the demon a chance to give you any pleasure that might distract you from your current anger, but then you see what the man must have been trying to show you.

"How...?" You ask, and for the first time today, your words aren't coated with rage as you speak.

You pull yourself out of Diavolo's lap and go to the full-length mirror, raising your shirt higher on your stomach. You remember last night, when you'd felt a burning sensation over your stomach after accepting Diavolo's proposal. You'd thought the feeling to be a part of your happiness at being (you thought) Diavolo's wife, but now it becomes painfully obvious that it had been something else entirely.

There, on your lower abdomen, just above your underwear line but below your belly button, lies a delicate symbol. You squint at it, running your fingers over the mark—but the ebony black characters feel like they're a part of your skin, as if they've always been there.

"I have one to match," Diavolo says with a smile. He unbuttons his shirt and approaches the mirror, standing next to you. "Mine says 'true lover,'" He murmurs into your ear. The proximity makes you shudder, and you have to remind yourself that you're angry with the man. But as he lifts your shirt above your shoulders, shedding his own top in turn, you find that whatever emotions you were feeling before have been replaced with a new sense of longing.

"I'm still angry." The words are more for you than they are for him. It's as if saying them excuses how responsive you're being to Diavolo's touch as he strokes your sides.

"I know you are," He mumbles, kissing you.

"I'm not okay with being your paramour," You continue, only to be met with another 'I know' as Diavolo's lips ghost over your neck.

And as he gives the sensitive skin a tender suck, you can't help but lean into his arms for support, even as he continues to trail lower down to your stomach.

"I love you," he mumbles into your skin, licking the spot where your body is branded with the mark of the paramour. He leans back to admire the character.

And that's when things go downhill.

"Diavolo?" You ask, cupping his cheek. "What's wrong?"

You flinch as the man's grip around your waist tightens, watching in confusion as he stares daggers into the spot on your stomach that he had been gazing at so tenderly before. You see his eye twitch before he abruptly stands up and begins dressing himself.

You watch in disbelief. Diavolo's expression has changed completely, unwilling to meet your eyes and practically ignoring you.

"Diavolo, why—"

"MC, please be quiet. You wanted to be left alone? Very well, you will be left alone." Diavolo is now scowling as he buttons up his shirt, not even bothering to wear his cape as he makes for the door.

"Wh-what happened?" You ask, pulling on his sleeve. It's a futile attempt. The man is double your weight and over ten times as strong, but he humors you and stops before the door. "Diavolo, please. What did I do? Are you angry?"

"MC," Diavolo speaks, not facing you. His tone is dark. "It's best for the both of us if you are not with me right now."

He yanks his sleeve from your grasp, slamming the door shut in your face as he storms out, leaving you an even bigger mess of emotions than when he walked in.

You slowly make your way to the mirror, staring at the character on your stomach. You can't read what it says, but something about it seemed to anger Diavolo. After nearly half an hour of being more furious than you've ever been in your entire life, you know that the dark emotion Diavolo was trying to hide was rage itself.

But what could have made him so angry?

You stare at the spot on your stomach, before frustration begins to amalgamate once more. What right does Diavolo have to be angry with you, right now? Isn't it supposed to be the other way around?

Right, you remember. When he kissed you, it was so easy to forget that he was asking you to be his paramour, his trophy-wife-that's-not-even-good-enough-to-be-a-wife lover. But now?

You scowl into the mirror, crossing your arms.

Diavolo can be angry all he wants.

His fury won't change yours. And I'm justified in my anger, you think, before a knock breaks you from your thoughts.

Not even bothering to wear your shirt, you march over to the door. This had better be Diavolo, ready to apologize, you think, before swinging it open.

But the face that greets you is smaller. Shorter. Olive eyes and mismatched hair, it's Barbatos who greets you.

"My lady," He murmurs stiffly. For a millisecond, his eyes dart down to your body, and his eyes widen in surprise. You're not sure why the demon butler looks so startled to see your exposed stomach. Demons in the Devildom have little sense of shame when it comes to nudity, as you'd learned from Lucifer's and Barbatos's utter indifference to constantly walking in on your nude form during nights with Diavolo. If anything, you're more covered than usual.

"No need to call me that, Barbatos. I'm Diavolo's secret lover. The only 'lady' you'll be needing to bow to is that wife of his," You sigh and leave the door open, a subtle invitation inside.

Speaking with Diavolo did quell most of your anger. Talking to Barbatos can't hurt, right?"

"If my lady wishes for me to call her MC, I shall," Barbatos says, shutting the door behind him. "But don't delude yourself into thinking that you're Diavolo's secret lover. A paramour is respected more than a wife, here. The whole realm will know you: face, name, history. It will be an honor."

"It will be a humiliation," You interrupt. You throw your shirt on, beginning to rant. "The whole realm will mock me: the prince's concubine. His whore. The idea that I'm not good enough to be his only lover is an insult. A paramour is disgusting and—"

"Then perhaps someone else is better suited for the role?"

You stop, pondering the words.

Barbatos looks at you with one eyebrow raised, gaze unwavering as he sees into your soul. You want to look away, want to ignore him, want to act as if that one question isn't the very conflict you've been torn over.

But you can't.

Diavolo has made it clear that the only way he'll have you be his lover is as his paramour. And every fiber of your being refuses to be paramour to a man who has a separate wife. So that truly only leaves one option, doesn't it?

"I don't have any other choices, do I?" You say dryly, realizing the nature of the situation you're in.

"If you cannot be his paramour," Barbatos agrees. "You cannot be his lover."

You sigh, leaning back against the bed.

It's been dwelling at the back of your mind for hours, but now as the truth begins to unshroud itself, you find the decision at the forefront of your mind.

Perhaps someone else is suited for the role, you think. Against your will, a memory of Diavolo's soft reddish locks flashes through your mind. You've always loved to play with them, and the demon lord always let you. He'd let out a gentle hum as you'd massage his scalp, a smile tugging at his lips as your fingers would lose themselves in his hair.

Perhaps someone else is meant to be Diavolo's paramour.

Another memory jumps into your thoughts, an image of the two of you dancing in the ballroom. Despite the situation, you smile at the thought. Diavolo adores dancing with you. It's his favorite thing to do: a respite from the daily struggles of the Devildom. There hasn't been a single week where he hasn't invited you down to the ballroom at least once. Even if there's no party, he would lead you into the hall, casting a cassette to play for you as the two of you danced the night away.

Perhaps I can never be the woman he needs me to be. The paramour he seeks.

A new image comes to mind, more recent. Diavolo's sleeping face. Normally, you would take to admiring his body in the morning, running your hands over his muscles and abs and sometimes the sensitive organ between his legs - but that morning, you'd been drawn to his face. The face of the man you loved. The face of a prince.

And slowly, you realize the truth.

The face of the man I cannot have.

"You're right," You say to Barbatos. Your voice is barely a whisper, but the butler seems to have heard you all the same.

You cannot carry the weight of being Diavolo's paramour. You're too human. It conflicts with your nature too much. And just as the relation Diavolo sought from you is too horrid for you to bear, the relationship you seek from Diavolo is one that's too far from the demon lord's customs.

He'd told you this when you first kissed him: that a human and a demon have no place together. Much less, a human and the ruler of the Devildom.

At the time, you'd only smiled into his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck for more.

But now those words have hauntingly returned, more true than ever before.

A human and a demon have no place together.

And you and Diavolo are no exception.

"I'll help you move your things into Purgatory Hall. For the remainder of the exchange program, you'll want to be there." Barbatos turns, walking to the door. "I'll leave you to inform lord Diavolo of your decision."

"Wait!" You blurt before you can stop yourself, grabbing the demon's wrist.

He turns to you, expression nonchalant. His gaze is normally intimidating, but as you stand before him all you can think about is the pure apathy in his eyes: now that you've decided to no longer be his lord's lover, he truly does not care about you.

But you won't let that stop you from asking.

"I...Diavolo said that the symbols on my stomach are characters. For words. What..." You trail off, trying to find your courage. "What does it say?"

Barbatos steps toward you, lifting your shirt with his left hand. A gloved finger traces the dark markings, and he begins speaking.

"This is the mark of the paramour. On most, it'll just be the character for 'lover,' but sometimes...in truly special instances, there'll be a description character as well. Diavolo's mark reads: true lover."

"What does mine say?" You whisper.

Barbatos brushes the mark with his thumb, his touch oddly gentle as he strokes the branded skin. His eyes never leave yours, and you think that it's a gesture of kindness until you catch the glint of morbid cruelty as he watches your reaction to his next words.

His gaze bores into you, staring past your eyes and into your heart as he shatters it with the truth.

"False lover."

MASTERLIST

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | ✔

Word count: 5.5k

Notes: Ive had this idea for diavolo since the day i opened this game, and i finally got around to writing it x3 its a lil angsty right now, but it gets better~ happy endings here, promise <3 im expecting this to be either 2 parts MAYBE 3, so stay tuned :D

Comment & Like

Next Update: 4/28/20

I do not own the rights to Obey Me! or any of the characters within it.

397 notes · View notes