#tw mention of adultery | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wardenparker · 2 years

Text

Starting Over - Chapter 10

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Recently arrived in Texas and only slightly removed from his divorce, Marcus finds himself smitten with the women at the housewares store that is helping him furnish his new Austin condo. It becomes a more complicated situation than he could have expected, but Marcus has never been one to shy away from a challenge when love is on the line. ✨This fic takes place *before* the events of The Mentalist.✨

Rating: Mature Word Count: 6.3k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this fic will include divorce, past abusive relationships, deceased mothers, father issues/family trauma, unplanned pregnancy.* Cursing and food mentions, unplanned pregnancy, pregnant reader, argument/fighting, serious drama and angst ahead. Summary: Returning from your vacation is a rude awakening, as Amanda has taken a giant new leap toward being even more horrible. Notes: With just a few chapters left, we are really hitting high gear as far as drama goes!

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9

Austin traffic really isn’t that bad, although Marcus drums his fingers on the steering wheel impatiently. Eager to be home and wishing that he could recapture a few of the blissful moments of this weekend with you. A TV is in the back of his car, bought so he can set it up on that gorgeous dresser you helped him pick out, so the two of you can watch Netflix on a bigger screen than your laptop. Maybe curl up with some Thai or tacos, whatever you and the baby were craving with the bedroom door firmly locked, and Amanda banished to the other side.

This weekend was everything he imagined and more. Both of you had hated coming back, just because it meant that you weren’t in that little inn or just wrapped up in the three of you. More names on the list for the baby, and more ideas for that nursery to be when an unwanted guest vacated the room. It was perfect, and like all perfect vacations, he now had the post vacation blues. Ready to get home and see your beautiful face and caress your stomach.

The sound of crying from upstairs the second Marcus steps into the house is not good. Amanda isn’t home, thank god, but you definitely are and that is definitely the sound of you being inconsolably upset in your room. Forgetting about the TV instantly, Marcus is upstairs and through the doorway faster than a speeding bullet just to find you curled up in the corner of the bed you share, sobbing into a pile of tissues. You don’t seem to be physically hurt at all, but this would be one hell of a mood swing if it happened all on its own.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Even though you don’t physically seem hurt, he can’t help but stroke your cheek, checking your body for anything that might give him a clue as to why you are sobbing as he is pulling you into his arms. “Shhhhhhshhhhhh it’s okay.” He murmurs softly.

“I had one safe space!” You sob openly, unafraid of being judged by Marcus for overreacting when you know damn well that this is a perfectly reasonable reaction for what happened today. His arms are your only safe place now - the only place she can’t hurt you. “And she fucking stole it in three goddamn days!”

He is completely confused, but he knows who she is. “What happened baby?” His mind races. Had they fired you? It doesn’t seem likely, since you had just told him the other day how short staffed you were, and you were one of the most competent they had. But he also knows that Amanda is a talented actress and a liar.

“Do you wanna know where she is right now?” When your eyes flick up to his they’re full of anger and betrayal, a mix he’s never seen from you. Not even the day Amanda showed up on his doorstep.

Nodding, his stomach rolls with the possibilities but he knows if he understands what the problem is, he can try to fix it.

“She went out and got a job.” The words come out through gritted teeth. You’re so angry you could spit fire, if only you didn’t feel so hopeless. “At Crate & Barrel.”

“Fuck.” Releasing a heavy sigh, Marcus closes his eyes and pulls you closer. “I’m so sorry.” He strokes your arm, trying to soothe you. He knows it’s on purpose, there’s no way that it’s a coincidence.

“She must have heard me telling you about being short staffed before we left on Thursday.” Fingers digging into his arms, you tug as close to him as possible and just let the tears fall. You love your job, and even the company, and after so many years working for them it feels like a complete betrayal. “And they fucking love her.”

“She’s good at hiding the rot underneath.” He reminds you softly, letting you cry. As much as he hates to see you in tears, he knows you need to let it out. “I’m sorry baby. I’ll talk to her. I promise I’ll try to fix this.”

“She’s not going to quit.” When she had cornered you in the empty break room halfway through a mild panic attack, she had even told you as much. “She told me p-point blank.” When was the last time you cried like this? Maybe when your mother died? That was the last time you felt truly hopeless. “She’s going to be a goddamn model employee until either I’ve quit, or you’ve signed over the trust.”

“Fucking bitch.” Marcus hisses under his breath. He’s fucking tired of his ex-wife trying to ruin his life all over some money. “I’ll – I’ll call the lawyers.” He promises. “This is harassment and malicious intent at this point.”

“What did they say?” He had met with them today; you remember being hopeful when the day started.

His sigh is a bit defeated. “She’s refusing to sign anything. We have to go to court.” He shakes his head at the utter gall of the woman. “They are trying to get it on the court calendar as quickly as possible.”

“Fuck.” A silent sob wracks through you making you shake a little in his arms as you cling to him. “She doesn’t stand a chance in court, right? Please tell me she’s not going to win…” The money is nothing at this point. Neither you nor Marcus actually wants it, but that just isn’t the point. The point is that Amanda has done everything but outright attack you to get it and at this point you wouldn’t even put that past her. The point is that you’re now so angry that you want her to walk away from this attempt to ruin your lives with a broken spirit and an empty wallet after wasting everything she has on lawyers.

“No, she’s not.” Although Marcus can’t be one hundred percent sure. There was always the chance of having the wrong judge in the wrong mood to believe Amanda. “It’s just going to take more time, is all.”

“This is so fucked.” You mumble, wiping your eyes with the heels of your palms as you steadily avoid his gaze. “I’m sorry, baby. This isn’t what you needed to come home to.”

“You didn’t need to find out that your one space had been violated.” Marcus closes his eyes and sighs again, hesitant to bring up the idea, but he knows he needs to. “If you want to go back next door— I won’t be mad.” He murmurs softly. “I’ll understand. You deserve to have some space from her.”

“No.” There’s absolutely no way you’re going to give Amanda even a molecule of victory, and running you out of your own home would be a hell of a lot more than a molecule. “She doesn’t get to win in any way. I’m not going backward.” It does, though, make you look up at him. “What if I went back over there even for a single week and you missed the baby kicking for the first time? I couldn’t live with myself.”

God, he loves you. Marcus hugs you just a bit tighter. “Okay, but— let me know when you need a break. We’ll get a fucking hotel room if we have to. Just for a night.”

“We could go see my dad soon?” It’s the happiest thing you can think of right now - going back up to New York to tell your dad he’s going to be a grandfather - and if that’s the positive thing you have to look forward to then you’ll cling to it with both hands. “Nothing was out of place after this weekend, so I don’t think she’s going to try property damage if we go out of town again.”

“Let me know when you can get a few days off and I’ll make it happen.” He promises, kissing the top of your head.

“I’ll call him tomorrow while she’s at work.” You nod a little and sigh. “She’s training for the next few days, so at least I can assign someone else to do that. But…if she decides to complain about me to our store manager, I just don’t have the loyalty built up with this new guy that I had with the manager that hired me. It’s…baby, it’s scary. I don’t want anything to happen to my job.”

“Do you want me to have a talk with them?” It’s a long shot, but there’s the chance that the badge he carries will assist in giving him credibility beyond your fiancé.

“I don’t think it would do any good.” The way she manipulates, you wouldn’t be surprised if she’s already woven a sob story for your coworkers. “But if she gets bad, I might take you up on it anyway.”

“I’m sorry.” He never expected this. Amanda hated working retail and had made that very clear when they were dating. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” Combing your fingers through his hair in the most soothing motion you can manage, you resettle in his arms and try to steady your breathing. “None of this is your fault. She’s evil.”

The entire situation makes him feel impotent. Like he is unable to support you or protect you because of the chokehold Amanda has on the entire situation. “Since she’s out of the house, do you want me to cook dinner?” He asks softly, wanting to make you feel better. “Throw away some of the gross shit she’s bought?”

The clock on the wall reads six o’clock and you nod slightly, feeling guilty that you felt too terrible when you got home to have anything ready for him. It’s not like he expects it, but he always lights up a little extra when he feels taken care of. Loved. “She’s closing tonight…we have a couple of hours until she comes back.”

“Good.” Marcus kisses your temple again and starts to pull himself away, wiping at a few tears that haven’t dried yet. “We will be able to enjoy more than one room in our house tonight.”

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and she’ll get scheduled for all closing shifts so we can have a couple of hours to ourselves from time to time.” Letting him out of your sight isn’t an option. Marcus is your anchor, and you force yourself to sit up in bed and try to shake off the unease so you can go downstairs with him.

He chuckles and holds his hand out to help you up. “We can only hope.” He shoots you a grin. “Hopefully she gets the worst shifts.”

“Maybe she’ll just be terrible at the job and not make it past her probation period.” Does it make you awful to hope that that will be the case? You really can’t tell.

“Or she’ll immediately remember why she hated retail and quit.” He doesn’t understand why she would want a retail job other than to torment you, she had worked on an office for years. Unless she had burned her bridges in her profession.

“We can only hope.” Down the stairs and into the kitchen, Marcus grabs an oversized trash bag and opens the cupboards, starting to pull out the things that Amanda accumulated over the weekend that make you sick. “Do we still have spaghetti in there?” You ask Marcus, moving to the freezer to see if the bag of meatballs you bought last week is still there or if she got rid of them in a purge of things you enjoy.

“The jars are here and unopened.” Marcus grunts, pulling out a jar of your favorite sauce and holds it up happily. “Spaghetti and some garlic bread?”

You groan in delight when you discover the bag of meatballs is still hidden in the bottom corner of the freezer and pull them out to inspect. No tears in the bag, no evidence of Amanda tampering. “Looks like we have a full dinner.”

“Perfect.” Marcus dumps the shrimp chips into the trash bad and curls his lip when he pulls out the tin of sardines. “She hates this shit.” He turns and smirks at you as he throws it away. “But I guess that just means her insecurity is even more than her hatred of mustard packed sardines.”

Even the phrase ‘mustard packed sardines’ makes you gag, and you grimace heavily as you situate yourself on a stool at the kitchen island. Your phone in your pocket buzzes and you brace yourself for a work call, but are pleasantly surprised when the caller ID screen shows your favourite photo of you and your dad from his birthday a few years ago. You had managed to talk him into one of those stupid cone-shaped paper birthday hats and the cake you had baked him sits on the table in front of you. “Look at that. Serendipity.” You hum, waving the phone at Marcus before you swipe it open. “Hi Dad.”

Marcus feels a bit nervous as you greet your dad. In that way that he felt when he broke his mother’s rules or defied the guardian’s curfew after she had died. He knows he’s done nothing wrong, but the man who had loved you from before birth might claim otherwise and he doesn’t want to cause issues between the two of you.

“Been a little while since I heard from you, honey,” your dad’s voice has that same rough quality to it that it always has, from a lifetime spent yelling at animals and farmhands and his own rambunctious kid. “I thought I’d give you a call.”

“I was going to call you tomorrow, actually. But this is perfect.” The beaming smile and thumbs up you aim Marcus’s way are sincere, and you reach to give his hand a squeeze when he looks nervous. “I was wondering if you had some time for me to come visit soon? I have someone I want you to meet.”

“Someone, huh?” There’s the distinct raspy sound associated with scratching stubble that Marcus is very familiar with, and he wonders if the older man is rubbing his cheek or his chin as he talks into the phone. “What kind of someone are we talkin’ about?”

“His name is Marcus.” You fully expect your dad to be a little skeptical, but there is also no doubt in your mind that he’ll end up loving the man you’re going to marry. It’s just a matter of getting them in the same place to meet. “We’ve been together a few months now.”

“And you’re wanting to bring him home to meet me, huh?” The notion isn’t lost on him, you’ve never brought anyone home since you’ve left, before or after Eric.

There's a smile etched in your voice, and you aim a reassuring wink at Marcus. "I figured you might want to meet the man I'm going to marry." The baby news can wait until you're there in person, but you don't want your father mistaking what you're doing in bringing Marcus home. You're not asking for permission; you're asking them to give each other a chance.

“Marry?” The shock in his voice is clear. “I— are you sure?”

"Yeah, Dad." You have to hold in a little laugh, but you're beaming across the kitchen island at Marcus. "I'm sure. He asked me this weekend and I said yes."

If he’s upset that he wasn’t asked for permission, he doesn’t voice it. “Come up whenever you want.” His voice is just slightly rougher. “I’ll be proud to meet him.”

"You're going to like him." Although you can all but straight-out guarantee it, you know that tone of his. There's disapproval below the surface, and you want to nip it in the bud as fast as you can. "I'm going to take him to see Mom while we're there. Just...he lost his mother, too. So he understands how hard it is. He's a good man, Dad."

There’s a slight pause, shifting on your father’s end as he absorbs that new information. “Alright.” He says after a moment. “Let me know when you’re coming up and I’ll make sure there are fresh sheets on the bed.”

“Thank you.” You practically sigh in relief, giving Marcus another thumbs up in the kitchen. “Can I call you tomorrow to let you know? I just have to see when I can get a few days out of work.”

“That sounds good, honey.” He shuffles again. “I should go, need to check on some things before dinner.”

“Okay. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Love you.” The expression of victory on your face is a tad obvious when you stuff your phone back in your pocket, but you don’t care. “He said whenever we want to come up, just let him know.” You tell Marcus. “And that he’d put fresh sheets on the bed. Which is basically my Dad’s equivalent of rolling out the red carpet.”

“Fresh sheets huh?” Marcus can’t help but grin at that bit of knowledge. Obviously the basic niceties of hosting could be overlooked if your father didn’t like someone.

“He might give us a little shit about not asking his permission first, but I have a feeling the baby bump will make all that sass melt away on sight.” By the time you manage to get up there you’ll definitely be showing, and the look on your father’s face when he sees you is going to be priceless. “He’s going to be so excited.”

“I hope so.” He bites his lip and sends you a smile. “Since the baby’s coming whether he likes it or not.”

“He’ll be over the moon.” You can promise Marcus that much. “The only thing he wants more than me to come home to the farm is grandbabies.”

Marcus smiles. “Well, I’m glad I can at least give him grandbabies.” He murmurs, leaning over and kissing you after tying off the trash bag. “I’ll go throw this away and start on that spaghetti you want.”

“You don’t have to wait on me, baby. I can get dinner started.” The idea that he exists to serve you just because you’re carrying his baby has never sat well with you, even when it’s a joke that Naomi sometimes tosses around now. You can certainly get off your stool and make dinner yourself, just like you would have if today hadn’t included several separate sob sessions.

Marcus pouts slightly but he doesn’t ever want to curb your independence. Instead he nods, “I’ll take this out and then I’ll make you a cup of your herbal tea.” Another find at inn were several flavors of teas you enjoyed. Marcus had to bring some back of course.

“Thank you, baby.” A kiss in gratitude as he passes you, and you start getting the evening meal together on the stove. After having to watch your back at work all day it’s actually freeing to just move around your own kitchen a little, and you exhale slowly but surely - reminding yourself that this is not forever. She will be gone soon enough, and you and Marcus and the Pike-ette can begin your lives together in earnest. As a family. Not a haunted or traumatized one.

The trash bin is up front and Marcus groans as he sees a familiar car pull up. “Fuck.” He hisses, hurrying back into the house. “Heads up, she’s back.” He tells you as he comes back into the kitchen. “Maybe she got fired already.”

“We’re not that lucky.” You roll your eyes, remind yourself to breathe, and steel yourself for whatever might come. Sometimes sales associates were sent home early when things were especially slow, but considering it was her first day that was suspect. “It’s okay, love. We’re just going to cook and eat our dinner like reasonable humans. Even despite the inevitable interruptions.”

“I know.” Still, he comes over and gives you a reassuring hug from behind and kisses your neck. “I love you.” He whispers.

“I love you, too.” There is no hesitation in your voice, and you’re certainly not quiet, making sure to add too so that when Amanda walks in the door and hears you, she knows that Marcus has said it first.

Snorting to herself, Amanda rolls her eyes when she hears the sweet sentiment. Of course you would try to play up wherever feelings you think he has for you. “Darling I’m home.” She calls out as she clicks her way into the kitchen wearing a pair of heels that didn’t belong on a retail floor.

“I’m going to focus on dinner.” You tell Marcus softly, because you know if you don’t put your mind elsewhere, you’re going to use your shit on Amanda.

Marcus nods, shifting to where he is facing the doorway as Amanda sails through with a smug smirk on her face. He frowns. “Already fired?” He asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “Or did you do the right thing and quit?”

“Don’t be silly.” Amanda reaches out to touch Marcus’s arm as she laughs off the idea. Does she despise retail and every inch of that horrible store? Of course. But she hates you far, far more. And if putting up with retail is what it takes to get rid of you, she’ll do it. “I love it there!” She hums brightly. “Everyone’s so welcoming.”

He doesn’t snatch his arm back, but he does quickly move away from her touch, “I want you to quit.” He tells her directly, tired of beating around the bush and how it’s affecting you. “Today.”

“But sweetheart,” she puts on her best look of innocence, placing one hand to her chest like she’s somehow shocked that he would ever suggest it. “However will I adjust to our new life here if I don’t find fulfilling work and make new friends?”

“Go back to Portland.” Marcus tells her for the thousandth time. “And talk to your lawyers. They aren’t happy you keep misrepresenting the facts.” He hadn’t missed the heavy sighs during the meeting.

“I’ll happily go back to Portland when you’re ready to come with me.” Getting him away from you has been nearly impossible since you moved in, and it’s making it a lot harder to convince him that you’re digging for gold when you keep being so disgustingly sincere all the damn time. At least she could have a good laugh over your so-called engagement ring. Sapphires? And so small, too. He didn’t even have the dedication to buy you a diamond, so at least she knew she was getting somewhere. Just not fast enough.

“I am staying here.” Marcus breathes out slowly, like he is explaining yet again. Losing his patience as you studiously try to ignore her with your back to the stove. “With my fiancée and our child. Give up, Amanda. We are over. Forever.”

The screaming frustration in her mind never makes it to her face, or the way she shakes her head in utter sympathy. “Til death do us part, darling, remember?” She bats her eyelashes for good measure, knowing that he always got off a little extra on the whole innocence thing. “It will all be ‘forgive and forget’ when you’re ready to come home to your wife.”

“If you will sign the damn papers you won’t be my wife anymore!” Marcus hisses, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I don’t get it. You cheated on me and you expect me to just come back to you? What kind of doormat do you think I am?”

“It’s not your fault that you’ve been confused by her,” Amanda insists, laying a hand on his shoulder. Truth be told? She hates this whole fucking charade. He’s maybe a Seven on his best days and she’s a goddamn Twelve, and she shouldn’t have to pander to someone so below her. But that damn trust and everything in his bank account makes him a Ten, so the suffering will be worth it as long as she wins. “She’s a manipulator and a con artist, leading you astray just like she tried to do with me.”

Marcus just stares at her for a second before he shakes his head, disgusted that he ever was enamored with someone so…conniving. “Get your hand off of me.” Marcus tells her, speaking slowly and clearly. “I’ve told you I don’t want you touching me.”

“You’re stressed, honey.” Amanda continues smiling, reminding herself not to lose her shit and flip out no matter how aggravated she feels. Whatever long con you’re playing to get Marcus’s money, you’re using tears and the pregnancy. She doesn’t have that luxury. “Why don’t we order some dinner and sit down together? Reminisce?”

“No.” Marcus’s eye starts twitching, understanding why the lawyers were begging Marcus to relent on the trust. If they were dealing with half of this, he would be just as desperate. “We, as in my fiancée and I, are cooking dinner.” He tells her. “You can order whatever you want.” He had specifically started making sure that leftovers were marked for lunches. He isn’t feeding her too. Staying here was already enough. Too much, really.

“Are you sure that’s such a good idea, sweetheart?” Realistically, Amanda is well aware that Marcus is going to sit down and eat peasant food with his little hussy and then disappear into their lock room with her to do whatever it is that they do which obviously isn’t intimate in any way. But this is not about winning the battle. It’s about sewing the doubt that wins the war. “Eating what she cooks for you, I mean? It’s just…I saw her flirt with customers today, honey. I saw it with my own eyes. And you’ve already been hurt so much.”

His heart clenches, not for the fear of what you would do to him. He’s very aware of how you feel and that your heart is his, just like his is yours. No, his heart hurts because a woman he had loved was trying to use the way she had hurt him against you now. He hears your angry inhale and it pisses him off even more. “Get out, Amanda.” He growls, watching her set down some god-awful smelling cup she had in her hand.

“Now, honey.” Her head tilts ever so slightly, surprised to get anger from him instead of hurt. “What would the lawyers say if you kicked me out of our home?”

“My home.” He corrects, nodding towards you. “Her home. Not your home.” He is fucking done with today, done with her. She made you cry and feel vulnerable, and he’ll be damned if he is going to let it continue. “Go out to dinner. All your food has been thrown away.”

“Oh,” she tuts, annoyed at more money she really doesn’t have going down the toilet in his attempts to defend you. “What a pity. I’ll have to do some shopping tomorrow, I guess. After work, of course.”

“You’re not bringing any more of that shit in the house.” He points a finger at her, his brows pulled down. “I know what you’re doing and it is fucking ending now.”

“I’m providing sustenance for my husband.” She contends, trying to keep her voice from raising. Marcus so rarely gets actually angry that this is quite a sight to see.

“Sustenance.” Marcus sneers the word and rolls his eyes. “I don’t eat fucking sardines packed in mustard and you know it.” One camping trip early on in their relationship proved that when he had had too much to drink and ate a tin of them. It hadn’t been pretty, and he doesn’t touch sardines at all unless they were in Caesar dressing. “It’s all a bitchy move to make her sick.”

“I couldn’t possibly keep up with all her mood swings and cravings or supposed cravings.” Every once in a while, just to rile him up, she likes to insinuate that you’re lying about your pregnancy. Just to see how he’ll react. And tonight it’s anger, which is much more fun than when he mopes. That flash of testosterone in anger is fairly sexy, as far as Amanda is concerned. “She seems perfectly fine when you’re not home to perform for.”

God, it’s so rare that Marcus loses his temper. He doesn’t like it - doesn’t like the man he is in those few moments. However, in this moment, he doesn’t care when he’s pushed to his limit by the insults, the innuendo, the vileness and the fucking stress of the drama she is forcing the two of you to play out. His hand is around the cup, some specialty cup with the logo of the company on the front, hurling it and the contents towards the wall before he’s even processed he’s reached for it. “Get out of my goddamn house!” He bellows, face furious and chest heaving as the cup hits the edge of the counters and shatters, splattering the drink everywhere.

“Marcus!” Amanda’s reaction is more flustered than upset or shocked, almost like she enjoyed making him mad. From the doorway to the kitchen, though, you can smell whatever heavily pineapple-and-something-vile drink she had in that cup and you know in your (currently swirling) gut that it was destined to go all over you before the night was over. Marcus yelling isn’t something you think you’ve ever seen before, and you’re frozen in the doorway for longer than you’re proud of by the shock.

“If you preferred to spend tonight alone, all you had to do was say so.” Amanda hums, knowing she never would have let him get away with saying something like that to her. To his wife. No, instead she takes out her phone and quickly snaps a photo of his beet red face and her destroyed cup as evidence of his anger and tucks it away again with an almost pleased arrogance. “You’ll regret getting angry,” she tells him point blank before heading upstairs to her room.

“Son of a bitch!” Marcus sighs, shoving a hand through his hair again and turning towards you, filled with instant shame when he sees you wide eyed. “Fuck, I’m sorry baby.” He rushes out, raising his hands up and showing you he’s calmed down.

“It’s…it’s her.” You won’t necessarily say it’s okay because you don’t know if she can use that against him somehow in court once the camera footage is entered into evidence, but you offer him a place in your arms and rub his back gently. “She wanted a rise out of you, and she got it. I’m sorry, love.”

“I shouldn’t have….” Marcus sighs again and shakes his head. “Let me clean up that mess and I’ll finish dinner, okay?”

“Okay.” You nod a little, holding him tight until he lets go first. The length of a hug should always be determined by the person who needs it most, or so you’ve come to believe. “Everything’s going to be okay, love.” You murmur, kissing his cheek softly. “It’ll be you, me, and the Pike-ettes forever.”

“I’m sorry.” Marcus leans back and gives you a serious look. “I hope you know I would never hurt you. I’ve never hurt Amanda. Never laid a hand on her.”

“Of course I know that.” That had never even been a thought in your mind. Even now, as angry and hurt and frustrated as he is, what did he do? He raised his voice and broke a cup. That might be considered escalating behavior for some, but for your Marcus? That is the escalation. It’s as bad as you’ve ever seen and you’ve seen him under the worst stress of his life, aside from losing his mother. “You’re not violent or prone to outbursts, or anything like that. I know that.”

“That’s all that matters to me.” He sighs in relief, his shoulders slumping under the weight of that being lifted.

“I can clean that up if you need to sit and clear your head.” It’s a small offer to make, even if the smell is making your stomach heave. The sacrifice is minimal if it means Marcus will feel better. Clearly today hasn’t been easy on either of you.

“No.” Marcus shakes his head. “It smells horrible to me; I know you won’t agree with it.”

“What the hell did she put in it?” You can’t help the way your nose wrinkles as you back off from the concoction. “Vinegar and death?”

Marcus gives a small chuckle and bobbles his head. “I think so. But who knows.” The front door opens and closes and Marcus sighs. “Thank fuck, she decided to actually listen.”

“You think she’s actually gone for the night?” If so, you hate to think where she’s gone. Sure, there’s plenty of hotels in the city, but what if she’s already made friends with someone at work? Found an ally who isn’t aware that more than three quarters of the things that come out of her mouth are lies? Work will be worse than hell if she starts turning your coworkers against you.

“No.” Marcus grabs the roll of paper towels and the disinfectant to start cleaning up around the broken cup. “She doesn’t want me happy and everything she said was to target that. She’s showing her hand.”

“Outlasting her is the dream at this point.” You roll your eyes, knowing it will never happen. Amanda is a kind of greedy that only existed in legends before her. “Let’s have dinner and then we can watch a movie in bed? I think I’ve got my nightstand configured perfectly for my laptop by now.”

Marcus grins as he looks up at you from down on the floor. “Yeah— uh, about that.” He huffs. “I may have bought a smart tv for our bedroom. So we can actually watch tv in bed and not on your laptop.”

“Baaaabe.” The pout you aim at him is soft – grateful instead of chastising. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to.” He gives a small shrug and a smile. “I thought about taking the TV out of the living room but was half afraid she would try to come into the room and lay between us to watch TV.”

“Well, it will come in extra handy when your giant baby has me on bedrest.” You roll your eyes at him playfully as he drops the used paper towels and broken bits of travel cup into the garbage. “I’ll be watching rerun after rerun of Say Yes to the Dress and weeping over how beautiful all the brides look.”

“Soon enough you will be saying yes to the dress and crying about how beautiful you look.” Marcus wipes down the wall and floor one last time and puts the supplies away to wash his hands.

“Naomi wants to take me shopping this weekend now that we’re officially engaged.” In fact, your best friend has been completely insistent about it. And since you no longer had the lack of a ring as an excuse to put it off, you had agreed. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she wants to take flight to New York just to go to Kleinfeld’s.”

“If that’s what you want to do.” Marcus nods with a smile. “Any time away will be good for you.” He knows how draining having Amanda around is for you and he’ll encourage a girls’ weekend if it helps you.

“Honey, no.” You shake your head adamantly while you pop the tray of garlic bread in the oven. “I am not flying to New York to look at wedding dresses, that’s insane. There are plenty of dress shops in Austin.”

Rolling his eyes, he walks over and drops a kiss on your shoulder, hand sliding over your stomach. “Only doing it once, so you should have the dress you want. Maybe something one of our girls will want to wear when they get married.”

“How dare you use our unborn daughters against me.” It’s not even a real pout, or a real protest, and you smile at him indulgently. “I’ll have a look at their website if it will make both of you happy.”

He snickers and leans in to drop a kiss in your lips. “Imagine how much worse it will be when we are holding said daughters.”

“You’re going to be wrapped around their little fingers, so it will be up to me to be the realistic one.” But even that makes you grin, knowing you’ll be just as over the moon about each of your babies as he will be. “Or at least I’ll have to try my hardest.”

“We will just have to balance spoiling them with making them understand respect and manners.” Marcus winks at you. “I think we will be pretty good at it.”

“I hope so.” With a shrug, you lean into Marcus’s side and place a kiss on his lips. “Do you want to bring the new TV in when you take the trash out and we can set it up tonight? Dinner will be ready in just a couple of minutes.”

“That sounds perfect.” Marcus sends you a mischievous look. “I’m going to sign out of all the streaming channels on the living room TV and change the passwords.” He chuckles.

A flash of pettiness flashes in the amusement on your face, and you nod in support of his plan. “We should move the DVD player, too. See how long she lasts before she can’t watch her Grey’s Anatomy and Sex and the City box sets.” If any small inconvenience is enough to drive her a little crazy, you’ll do it. At this point she more than deserves it.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri

Starting Over: @spideysimpossiblegirl @inspiringmelodrama @pedrilf @thevoiceinyourheadx @goodgriefitsawildworld @badassbaker @rebel-fanfare @canadianmaebe @amneris21 @kulicny @nagassia @bruxasolta @elfwriter1088 @mrsparknuts @graciexmarvel @maryfanson @what-iwish-you-knew @karlawithacapitalk

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike x reader #Marcus Pike x you #Marcus Pike x female reader #The Mentalist #Mentalist fanfic #tw divorce #tw unplanned pregnancy #pregnant reader #tw deceased parent #tw adultery #mentioned not shown

87 notes · View notes

smolvenger · 1 year

Text

Stella of Essex or The Vicar's Wife Betrayed Chapter 17: Blue Wildflowers (A Fix-It Fanfiction of The Essex Serpent)

Series Summary: The Essex Serpent is reimagined through the perspective of the saintly, sickly Vicar's Wife, Stella Ransome, giving her a new ending rather than her canon fate. A bildungsroman of Stella was raised to be a proper lady and married a handsome vicar Will Ransome. She did everything to be a perfect wife and to uphold his ministry. However, after receiving a fatal diagnosis, she learns her husband is having an affair. Her heartbreak, grief, and repressed anger are released. She finds hope, happiness, justice...and even revenge and new love.

Pairings: Stella Ransome x Male OC: Harry Cavaradossi, some Stella x Will Ransome but focusing on the angst of him cheating on her.

Prologue//One//Two//Three//Four//Five//Six//Seven//Eight//Nine//

Ten//Eleven//Twelve//Thirteen// Fourteen//Fifteen//Sixteen

Chapter Summary: The final chapter. Harry explains why he read the letters. Stella makes decisions regarding her past...and her future. There is a visitor by the name of Seaborne. A party brings back a memory absolved from past miseries into a happy present moment. And Stella, now content, finishes her tale.

Chapter Warnings: A super brief spicy scene towards the end, swearing, discussions of penises, bodily functions, marriage, death, children, and illness are discussed. Discussions of a Major Character Death (sorry not sorry Will Ransome girlies). Stella has PTSD, gets to actually mourn the affair, and becomes Eliza Hamilton for a minute. I get to shit talk both Will and Cora, so if you like the pairing of Will/Cora you have been warned. Religion is portrayed, esp towards the end. But LOTS of fluff and comfort in this chapter.

Chapter Word Count: 6K

Link To My Etsy Shop

Buy Me A Ko-Fi!

Ao3 Link

A/N: THANK YOU GUYS so much for following through with this series! It was very therapeutic to write. And thank you for following Stella on her journey! So now here is that eventual happy ending I promised! Enjoy! COMMENTS, KUDOS, ASKS, AND DMS ABOUT MY WORK ARE DEEPLY APPRECIATED!

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek, For they shall inherit the earth.”- Matthew 5: 3-5.

“Harry! What are you doing!” I cried, rushing forward.

He jumped up where he was but kept the papers in his hand. I curled my fists- every letter was sprawled across the desk! His pink lips began to mumble out an explanation as I saw the blood rush to his face.

“You’re home early…you wouldn’t be here for another hour and…”

“Why are you doing this? Why are you reading these!? I told you not to!” I cried again, gesturing to the papers.

He leaned forward, gaining resolve.

“Stella, I’m worried about you!” he replied.

I paused. He held onto the letters, keeping them to his chest. I noticed that the old journal I kept during my time in Aldwinter was also laid open on the desk as well. On the page were words I wrote upon hearing about the threat of the snake:

“He sent the serpent into Eden’s beflowered garden, and he sends it now and the penance must be paid…”

Oh, how little I knew then! If only I could have gone back in time and warned that lovestruck church girl of what would come from marrying that curate! Or that housewife so concerned about a snake devouring her children to make sure her vicar husband stayed away from widows!

“You’re worried about me?” I echoed to him.

“Since that night you saw me with a beard, I kept worrying about that look on your face, and I kept hearing you get out of bed to sob at night. I was concerned! I wanted to know more about what happened in Aldwinter and what happened between…between Will and…and…what was her name?”

He went through the papers to check again. Taking in a shaky breath, I walked towards his chair and clutched onto it to steady myself. I hadn’t said her name out loud in a long, long time.

“Cora…her name was Cora Seaborne…that was William’s lover,” I answered softly.

I found that though I spoke her name, I didn’t die on the spot and despite the unpleasant, anxious feelings inside me, I was still very safe. She was just a word spoken and dissolved into air.

Cora was a person, not a monster, I reminded myself. A person as I am a person. We both had blonde hair. We both were mothers. We lived in Aldwinter. We loved William. We both became widows. We both have hopes, dreams, fears, and dreads. We both committed cardinal sins.

Harry continued; his forehead knotted in anguish.

“I wanted to know what happened between Will and Cora to hurt you like this…So I’d know…I’d know…how best to comfort you. How to be the husband Will never was to you…”

I let out a sigh as I picked up one letter from them.

“I used to think and wonder at that time what sin we did to bring forth the Serpent in our town…now I wonder what on earth I did to have this happen to me…” I commented.

“You did nothing wrong, Stella. Cora and William did something wrong…the blame is entirely theirs, not you…” Harry assured.

I looked down at one page. It was a draft of a letter kept praising Cora about how she lit up Will’s soul and left him speechless and filled with longing.

“I’d try to convince myself not to be jealous of her, try to tell myself I wasn’t… All that changed when I saw them at the tree…I will always be second to Cora. Worse than her. Inferior. And that was why Will strayed….” I replied.

A bitter and petty phrase was on the tip of my tongue. The sound of her name- Cora- the first syllable rhymes with the word “whore.” But that was going too far, even for me (a murderess!). I forced my lips tightly shut until the temptation to connect her name to the word faded away.

Harry got up and offered me the chair, which I sat on. He went to the hall and asked the housekeeper to bring some tea and sweets, then returned. A tear dripped down my chin. Harry gave me his handkerchief.

“How many of their letters did you read?” I asked him.

“All, I think. And a little of the journal.”

“What do you think- not as my husband now, but as someone neutral to the case- what do you think? Of them?” I asked.

Harry looked down at one letter and then let out a scoff, looking back at me.

“Honestly, what n’er do wells!” he replied.

“What?!” I gasped.

He picked up two letters, gesticulating with them with both hands.

“Will and Cora- I haven’t read interactions between two people more self-obsessed and obnoxious!” he snarled.

“Really?” I asked softly.

“Yes, really! Must this woman- Cora- drag every person she met into the mess of her life!? She and Will did nothing! Nothing but ruin everyone else’s life!”

“Mine included…” I prodded.

“Yours worst of all!” Harry agreed.

He then picked up another letter.

“Here she is talking of all the research she did around the town- how would her little hobby help anyone? She could have found ways to trap or kill it. She could have tried to find ways one could protect oneself and educate the folk frightened for their lives. And the family of the girl who went missing-What of her parents? Or the other victim’s families- William could have made tithes to help them. He could have comforted and prayed with them. Will and Cora could have done anything productive but walk around outside, bantering about science and faith and swooning over each other!”

“She told me it was love when I asked her about it,” I informed him.

“If she did love him, she would let him be with his wife and let him go!” he ranted.

“And what do you think of her…is Cora better than me…I thought because she was always so much more…more spirited and… if I was only more like her, Will wouldn't have…never have… Is she truly better?” I asked gingerly.

Harry lowered the letters and folded his arms.

“Well, if you were in her place and a woman’s husband declared his love for you, a woman who had tuberculosis and was likely to die…if you knew without a doubt, he was married to this lady- would you say yes to him?” Harry asked.

“Of course not! Never!” I cried.

He shrugged upwards and his thin, pink lips curved to smile at me.

“Yes, there is a difference between you two! You are selfless, and she is selfish. That is what selfish people do. Hurt others without thinking of it. Therefore, you are better than her…do not compare yourself to this Cora Seaborne. my dear. You are my light and my warmth. What is a candle to a star, hm? Or a coral shell by the sea to the Milky way or the constellations?” he said.

He kissed the top of my head.

“When you met her, what else happened?” he asked.

“I threatened that I’d shoot her if I ever saw her again.”

He patted my shoulder in congratulations.

“Good! Remind me later and I’ll lend you one of my old soldier pistols. If you won’t hurt yourself, you have my blessing to fight back and avenge yourself.” He said sincerely.

I nodded my head.

He then leaned against the desk. He checked to make sure the housekeeper was not around and then leaned to me to speak quietly.

“It seems if there was an Essex Serpent, it was Will’s cock…”

“Harry!”

“It’s true! The only Serpent that one needed to fear was the one between his legs! That was the real god Will was a priest of- his own cock! And Cora was the priestess, and you were the lamb at the altar…” he elaborated.

He brought out an arm and slithered it through the air as a snake does in the grass.

“Can you imagine Will’s cock slithering around Essex like a snake? A giant cock hissing? SSSSSSSS!” he teased.

“I don’t know what would horrify me more- a giant snake or a giant penis slithering about!” I replied quietly.

I couldn’t resist a smile and put a hand over my mouth as I began to chuckle. Soon we both were crying and guffawing with aching bellies, howling with laughter at the obscene metaphor.

“But you are no sacrifice here…” Harry said, bending a knee to look me in the eye.

“Then what am I?” I asked.

He clutched both of my hands as he knelt.

“Goddess divine, of course,” he declared.

I put my hand on my chest in reaction and felt a blush creep up my cheeks. He kissed my hands tenderly.

“I wanted to understand all that happened. And now I do…can you forgive me, my love?” he asked.

“I forgive you, Harry…”

“I only hope I…I will be better, a better man and husband for you.”

Looking over at a corner, there was a table where there stood an empty wine bottle. He sighed.

“Who did you even marry? You deserve a knight in shining armor, Stella, not some drunken fool…” he sighed.

“You’re not that! Well, you still drink a bit much, but you are no fool. You are my knight in shining armor, Harry, my dear!”

With a surprise, he pulled me onto his lap, wrapping his arms around me.

“Then give your knight a kiss.”

We kissed once when the housekeeper walked in with tea and slices of cake. They were drunk and devoured, but the letters remained.

“What should we do with these?” Harry asked.

I got up from his lap. I began to gather the letters. One by one, and then into one neat pile. Anger began to burn again in my throat.

“We could give them to the children when they grow up. Let Will’s legacy be that how he humiliated their mother…” I spat, feeling my grip tighten.

“And carry the blame for their father’s actions? And sour any of the good memories and feelings they may feel for him- he was their first father, after all. And what if they discover the truth of how he died…then how sympathetic shall they think of you? Besides, Stella…I don’t think Will Ransome should be a part of our marriage. It’s a joining of two souls, not three.” Harry suggested.

I glanced down and released my breath.

“You’re right…I could…I could send the rest of them to the church back in Aldwinter…ruin his legacy after death!” I said bitterly.

“And have your whole family be blacklisted and frowned upon for one man’s sins? How will your children live when their father’s actions have condemned their whole future? And if they notice the similarities between your possession of those letters and the suicide scrap by Will’s corpse that time ago and connect the pieces…you would be practically tossing yourself into a jail cell, Stella.”

“Oh God, I’m a selfish, petty, person….” I lamented.

“You’re a human, Stella…” he reminded me.

We paused. He placed a hand on my shoulder. When we looked up, he gestured to the little lamp on the desk. On the inside was a lit candle.

“I think you know what to do,” Harry advised.

“I think it’s time…I kept these for when they would be useful. To have others believe me. To see those guilty punished. And then to free myself…” I mused.

Harry half smiled. He pointed to the second page of one letter where Will signed his full name.

“Ah- you were held prisoner by Mr. Ransome and in need of a ransom- and it seemed you ransomed yourself out of being a Ransome!” he teased.

“I’m not a Ransome in name or the word…I’m a Cavaradossi now…”

I let out a little chuckle at the string of puns. Then I filed them all into one pile. But Harry slipped his hand and took the first page.

“Let me have this one.”

“What do you need that for?” I asked.

“I need to wipe when I relieve my piss or shit!” he said.

I let out a laugh.

“I’m ready now…I’m ready to do this…” I said half to Harry and half to myself.

I went into our room to our fireplace, carrying the letters. I got the matches on the mantle and struck one until a little flame emerged from it. I then put the match to one page of Will and Cora’s letters. I watched as it curled up black, their words and banter and love confessions and declarations bleeding into darkness. Before the flame would reach my fingers, I tossed it into the fireplace. One by one I burned each page and placed them into the fireplace.

Yes, I was dying. But William, you are dead. I thought. I still have life in me, fragile as it was. And now you have none, Will. None, none, nothing.

The flames kissed and danced over the pages. It digested their words so full of selfish lust and then made it a black crumple of dust at the bottom of the fire. Again, I saw the small blueness in the center of the flames.

I watched as I destroyed each last page. They burned and then dwindled to nothing but dust.

Now any trace of William Ransome, my Will, the true Essex Serpent, was gone. I walked with lightness and slept like a babe at night. And Harry kept his promise- I had a small but loaded pistol hidden in my purse. Ready to make good my promise to Cora if I were to ever see her again.

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬ Though I was glad to continue life as normal, the London smog did not agree with me. It made me cough furiously while walking outside for errands. The doctor’s words haunted me.

“Get some clean air.”

One evening, after the children were in their rooms for their post-dinner hobbies, Harry and I sat down by the fire for him to read and me to sew. The dog laid down on the floor to nap, though his dark brown fur almost made him blend into it. After ten minutes, I set aside the needle and thread and looked at him.

“Harold…can we please see a doctor? The fog is getting to me. I can hardly walk for coughing…” I explained.

He set down his book.

“Any blood?”

“Rarely.”

“Then…then who says we have to live in London?” he suggested.

“What…what about your bank? Or your parties!? Or your plays?!” I asked.

He shrugged them off.

“I can throw them here! I can always travel to London if there’s a show I want to see. And I’m head of the bank- I can move headquarters. We could find a place just outside of London…would you like that? The children will understand- your health improved because of the clean mountain air. They’ll much prefer you alive and well.”

“Then by all means…let us move…”

After some searching, we found a lovely place in Kersey, Suffolk. We packed and gathered our things and moved out. A local building chosen as headquarters for the Cavaradossi bank thought the branch in London remained open. It was a comfortable cottage for all of us. A tree grew outside and stretched its branches out like a greeting friend. And there was fresh air- beautiful, bright fresh air. I loved taking a deep breath once I stepped outside. The air was crisp with winter and a light dusting of snow.

On our first day in the new place, once the boxes were set down, our faithful spaniel wagged his tail as he wandered in and out to the backyard to run about- he was far more used to being a country dog. Harry wrapped his arm around me.

“So help me, you will get all the exercise and fresh air in the world, Stella. We will walk daily- you can have a garden in the springtime. We might even try hiking if the path isn’t too steep- all of us as a family! Oh! And the lakes! We must try rowing- you a little bit! You’ll feel like new as if you were never sick again!”

Though it hadn’t and would never leave my body, I could walk about more, even if I was slower or more fragile. I coughed blood even less. I had more appetite. Only on the rare occasions, I felt myself a little dizzy while walking or a brief pain in my chest, I would use a cane. But only rarely. And of course, that first spring, I planted seeds to become a garden.

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬ It was seven years after my diagnosis on a Sunday when we had a visitor. The housekeeper we had approached Harry and me as we sat on our chairs.

“Excuse me, there’s a Seaborne at the door!” She announced.

I froze where I sat. I reached for Harry’s hand who clutched mine in return. I felt the color drain from my face. I wondered how quickly I could get out the pistol from my purse.

“Is it a Mrs. Seaborne?” I asked.

“No! It’s a gentleman…a very young gentleman, a Mr. Seaborne.” She corrected.

Harry and I stared at each other dumbfounded.

“Let him in,” I said.

I stood up, clutching the shawl on my shoulders.

In walked that same pale face but matured. His body was still thin but far taller. I felt myself relax seeing him, saying that old cliché that has been used before and will be used again:

“My, how you’ve grown!”

Frankie, in a nice black suit and cravat, tipped off his hat.

“Mrs. Ransome, hello! I wrote to Martha and Fanny and heard you now lived here and you…you remarried, is that right?” he asked, though his eyes darted distractedly to look around the living room.

“Yes, Frankie, I am. I’m Stella Cavaradossi now. Here is my husband- Mr. Harold Cavaradossi.”

Harry walked forward and shook hands with the young man.

“Please stay- I think you’re in time for tea!” I suggested.

He sat down at the table in the kitchen with us. His eyes flitted about, but his voice was addressed to me as he poured milk into his tea.

“It’s odd not thinking of you as Mrs. Ransome…” he commented.

“It’s odd for me too…Frankie, what brings you here?” I asked.

“I just…I worried about you. For years. I…I thought…I even wondered if you were dead…” he confessed.

“Well, she is not. Clearly.” Harry cut in.

“I just was worried, I felt…I felt bad for you. I…I didn’t know how to feel about Mama and…I was angry at you for that letter, at first, but I’m not…not angry anymore. Mrs. Ran- Mrs.-Cava….Cava- ra….“

“You can call me Stella…” I advised.

“Are you happy, Stella?” Frankie asked me. His eyes, so much like hers, softened.

I smiled at the young man.

“Yes.”

“I’m glad you’re in good health- I felt so bad for you back then. All stuck in that bed, coughing that blood. How’d you get better?” he asked.

“I was sent to a Sanatorium. They didn’t cure me, but they helped me, Frankie. And you? How have you been?”

He paused hesitantly and I froze.

“I…I live in a flat now with roommates. I go to University now and…and…I’m not on speaking terms with mama as much anymore…only on occasion,” he sighed. He sipped his tea meditatively.

“But Stella…I cannot be mad at you at all now. I remember the old days when I was in Aldwinter. Of all those adults there, you didn’t fuss at me for something I couldn’t help…you made bread. You welcomed me to the town. You let me play with your children. You made me dinner and sweets- I can still taste those chocolate biscuits! I always remembered, Stella. I never forgot your kindness.”

I felt a few tears on verge of showing, but I blinked back.

Despite his small oddities, he was wonderful company. Harry enjoyed him even. Before Frankie departed, I got some scraps of paper and wrote down an address and then a recipe.

“Frankie…you may write and visit any time you like. Come visit when James - he’d be thrilled! He’s with his brother seeing Joanna at her college today, else they’d be here!”

I then showed him the recipe.

“This is how you make those chocolate biscuits if you’d like,” I explained.

He put it in his pocket.

“Of course! And thank you for the tea as well!” he wished with a smile.

As he put his hat on, tipped it, and left, I crossed my arms. I was tearing up, but I was also smiling watching him go to his taxi. I was glad I didn’t kill that boy out of my rage. My anger did not sniff out the life of an innocent, only the guilty. And here Frankie was, like a flower in full bloom. I went out to the garden and began to cry again. But they were tears of immense relief.

From then on, Frankie was like another son to me. He regularly wrote and even visited when he could. I like to think he saw me as a second mother. Though he was wise enough to never speak of his own to me.

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬ There was one party we were throwing two weeks later. Harry’s favorite wine was flowing, and the guests were all laughing and socializing among themselves, including some of my own family members and of course my children. We finished our dinner and two friends who played violin and piano were warming up for dances.

But as it began and guests paired up on the wider floor of our room, I felt dizzy and a slight pain in my chest. I coughed, noticing only a little blood on my handkerchief. I then dashed upstairs. I sat down on the chair. I didn’t feel completely weak, but I was taken aback my heart racing. There was the sound of footsteps and the bedroom door creaked open.

“Stella, are you alright?” Harold asked, poking his head through.

My blood froze when he stepped in, and I took in his tuxedo from the party. It continued downstairs. And beyond, there was music.

Oh, dear God, this again! I saw this scene before, and I didn’t like how things ended up. Here again was my husband in a tuxedo, me feeling bad, and a party with dancing going on. My eyes started up, dreading seeing William’s beard, dreading reliving that moment in Aldwinter…

But there was no beard on my husband’s cleanly shaven chin this time. This wasn’t the past anymore.

“I am…I just coughed a little blood and got scared, but I feel alright…” I explained.

I heard the music and some clapping and chatter going on. Even my children’s laughter.

“Do you feel well, Stella? I’ll call the party off early if you like…” he offered.

“No, don’t! it’s just…it’s just…and you with your suit I…I just…” I muttered.

I sighed deeply and wiped away the tears with my handkerchief. I saw Harry’s shoulders soften.

“Harry…I don’t know if I will get better or get worse but for tonight…tonight you won’t leave me, will you?” I asked.

He stepped forward and touched my shoulder softly.

“Oh, of course not, Stella…” he vowed.

“Hold me, Harry,” I requested.

He wrapped his arms around me and held me tight. Anything, anything, I would change this- the past would not repeat itself again. Not with me.

“Is the dancing starting?” I asked.

“Yes, it is! The first one is ending- the waltz is next…” he recalled.

“Harry…I haven’t danced in a long, long time. I’d like to try and dance again…could you dance with me?”

He led me to stand.

“You only need to ask.” He responded.

As we headed to the hall, he draped his arm around mine. Then I looked at him and stopped my feet, I leaned closer to talk to him while we were still alone.

“I don't speak much of Will anymore, I try not to…I don’t want to bring him into this marriage, but I will be honest. This scene… reminded me of a memory I had with him. Do you remember me telling you about when I told him to dance with Cora?”

“Oh god, I remember now. I almost forgot…so you think that will happen again?” He puzzled.

I nodded. Harry cupped my cheek, keeping his other hand on mine.

“Stella, for each hour of your tears, I’ll replace it with an hour of happiness. I’ll take each moment of anguish and create ways to make you laugh. For each minute you felt unloved by him, I will make you feel worshipped. And if anyone, even you, tells me to dance with some other lady, I’ll refuse and dance with you instead.…”

We pressed our foreheads together, feeling the warmth and smoothness. I felt my tears had dried and I was smiling.

“Let’s dance, Harry,” I said.

We went into the main room, all cleared out. John already had one young lady as a partner on the floor. Joanna stopped her chatter among her new circle of friends to watch and James was watching as he sat, a plate of chocolate cake on his lap. Their eyes were on me, seeing if I was well enough. If I would fall or faint in dancing. Harry placed a hand around my waist, and I took his free hand in mine, our fingers intertwining. I kept a hand on his warm back. The violin and piano duo began playing. The waltz began.

We waltzed at a steady pace. I stepped into that square formation. He met mine with equality. His feet never once grazed my toes. I was keeping up without feeling breathless, weak, and with no pain or urge to cough. There was only dizziness as the crowd turned into a blur around us. I felt the warmth of his hand and Harry smiled the kindest, gentlest, most loving smile I had seen on a man, on a husband, on a person. And I returned it. I focused on his eyes as the music swelled as if giving us wings so we could fly up to the heavens and the clouds and stars themselves. Time itself stopped and there was only us as we moved together. The only feeling surging in my chest was that of joy.

Then finally, the song ended, and we paused. We clapped our hands in thanks. I glanced to see my children all looking at me with cheerful relief. When I looked back at Harry, he smiled and kept an arm around my back.

“You’re a wonderful dancer Stella, we should do this hourly,” he praised with a wink.

“Let’s drink some lemonade and then have another dance then!” I responded.

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬

As I write this, I have been married to Harold Cavaradossi for about ten years. Eleven years after I heard I was dying.

Harry was, is, and will be faithful to me. I know this with confidence. If there was something that needed novelty or something he lacked, something that he felt was wrong with me, he would tell me directly, his heart and eyes never wandering from mine.

I have seen the nineteenth century become the twentieth. I have lived to see Forty and past it, I may turn fifty if this keeps up. I have seen all three of my children grow up and become adults themselves.

Joanna has gone to a woman’s college, relieved it didn’t just teach women domestic arts but academic ones. She moved to London and has embraced the idea of the New Woman- she even has a suit complete with pants she enjoys wearing when she bikes. She works as a nurse for her income. She regularly writes to parliament insisting on a woman’s right to divorce her husband and does so all while she puts curls in her hair.

John is set to inherit the seniority of the Cavaradossi bank from his stepfather. He always hides sausages and treats in his pockets to spoil any dog he comes across. After schooling, he works alongside his father fervently at the bank. He is courting a young lady he is deeply in love with and intent on proposing. We are confident she will accept. To think I may live to see him married and perhaps as a grandmother!

James has grown so handsome that I often see young ladies eyeing him and he enjoys a good dance or flirtation. He enjoys reading books on theology and philosophy and shall debate them among his peers for hours, sometimes even going to church to discuss with the rectors themselves about their sermons. Though he is yet undecided as to what vocation he shall use for his life’s work, Harry tells him not to fret and to choose off on passion. He still has a weakness for chocolate and cannot resist sneaking bites of it during his classes.

I will indulge you with a glimpse into my private life in the marriage bed. It made the moment even more perfect; I think.

This morning, my husband, Harry, pleasured me in our bed. I felt the rise and bliss of that release as I repeated his name like a prayer. I went to heaven in that bed and floated down from it. We caught our breath. He removed his hand from my skirt, wiped it on the mattress, and held me close, our noses touching.

“Happy Anniversary, Stella.” He wished.

“Happy Anniversary, Harry,” I repeated softly.

I kissed the tip of his nose, his face bright red and scrunched with smiling. I reached a hand to play with his curls.

“How’s the loveliest lady in England today, hm? Not sick of me yet?” he asked.

“After ten years not yet…” I answered.

I placed both of my hands on his warm, solid chest as he stretched out, arms folded under his head. I then rested my chin on him as I looked up at his handsome face.

“Tell me the story about your adventures at sea…” I requested.

“I’ve already told that one hundreds of times!” he laughed.

“I don’t care, I like to hear it…let me hear it all, Harry, I’ll listen...especially the part about seeing the dolphins!”

He smoothed my hair as he told me about his time at sea. We hardly notice the hour pass by except for the sun slowly rising. I rose halfway in surprise, my stomach rumbling.

“I am hungry though…could we eat outside?” I requested.

Harry agreed. We dressed quickly and simply. I made sure my cane was right outside the front door, should the occasional bout of dizziness happen. Or a vision. Some say tuberculosis brings visions in a later stage but so far, they have been few and far between. I still have life in me yet and I’m determined to enjoy it. No matter how much time I have left.

We gathered our food in a picnic basket, held a blanket, and walked outside. I have a whole garden filled with flowers with as many blue ones as I could find seeds for. There is an apple tree in our front yard. Harry draped the blanket right under the tree, yet close enough that one could smell the flowers of both the garden and the apple blossoms of the tree.

Once we finished the meal, he at once grabbed me around the waist and pulled me to lay down on the blanket with him. He drowned me in kisses, and I giggled as if I was just an adolescent. I even felt one of his hands reach up to touch my thigh beneath my skirt.

“Harold! We’re outside! Our neighbors could see us!” I teased.

I saw his face, and just over the green leaves shuffling with the wind blowing through them. The sun alighting his blonde curls like a halo.

“Let them! Let them all see how much I love you, Stella…”

He kissed me with tongue and passion, tasting our meal again. We saw birds fly into the branches. They were singing their own songs and had twigs in their beaks. Soon there would be nests and eggs and chicks- new life. According to Fanny’s letters, Vincent said that the name of “Aldwinter” translated from German to English as “Old Winter”. Not here in Kersey where it was warm and so full of the promise of spring and life.

When I turned, right near the tree trunk among the grass, I found a little blue wildflower. I picked it up and bedecked it into one of Harry’s curls. He took my hand to kiss each of my knuckles and we melted into each other’s arms again beneath the shade and sunlight.

I know my time will come. And very, very likely, the consumption shall have that inevitable victory. But after such betrayal, such heartbreak, such tears, and rage …I was so at peace and happy that if I died at that moment, I thought, I wouldn’t have complained. I would finally be able to say I was content with my life.

I hope you too, no matter what may happen to you, no matter what betrayals you face or heartbreaks are forced upon you, no matter what struggles or hardships you have, you have strength. If I could, so could you. I pray that when you encounter someone like my first husband, when you find your Serpent, you stand up to him and tell him no. That you find someone like Harry or Fanny, or Mrs. Lee or Martha or the other Aldwinter ladies - someone to listen, to help, to love you and for you to love them. Or even perhaps fight for you- should the time arise- if you cannot fight for yourself.

May you go outside and if it is dark, try to find stars shining above you. Think of my name. Think of me. So, you will remember me and see that light in all the darkness and burning strong in a ball of fire, triumphant.

If it is light outside, go out and try to find a blue wildflower. Blue itself is a rare color in nature, so look very carefully. And once you find one, may you see it and be filled with that heaven-like tranquility and grace. If you like, you can try to press it. Or pluck it. Or leave it as it is and admire it before you continue your way. In a way, it’s like a piece of me watching over you, my dear reader.

For even amidst the deepest misery, as I have experienced, there are those who love us and who have yet to love us. There is life continuing without giving up. After we mourn, there is the eventual promise that one day, we will find the joy of being alive again.

I thank you so much for reading my words and hearing my story, whoever you are. Reader, I do not know your faith, but I will finish this with a prayer for your blessing. After all, you should know by now I am a woman of the Church of England.

Reader, may you be blessed. May you have hope and strength as a star or a blue wildflower. Because you have listened to me, may you be as listened to and come through your own challenges, as I have. Lord graciously hear us.

Reader, if you are one of my fellow betrayed spouses or lovers, I ask for heaven to bless you immensely. I am with you, holding your hand as you mourn and weep and rage. You are absolved, for you are the true innocents suffering from the sins of another. Lord, graciously hear us.

Even if you are not, Reader, may you reading this always ask for justice and find it, as I did. May you ask for love and find it again, as I did. May you always possess courage, as I learned to. Lord graciously hear us.

Your friend, Stella Harris Ransome Cavaradossi, wishes you the best as we depart for now.

I commend you, I commend you, I commend you all to mercy and protection.

Amen.

8 notes · View notes

screamingeagle · 2 years

Text

@rewcund sent:

' i’m not impulsive, i’m decisive. ' from columbo of course!

from this meme.

“ Maybe ya can be, Mista’ Columbo, ” Max piped up, unable to help but crack a bright and friendly grin when the other man spoke. You know... Max never thought he’d be befriending a detective-- but, hey, to each their own! The soldier tagged along, following the somewhat older man as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his military jacket, “ but I dunno if I can say that when we both stood at a store window wonderin’ what t’a get for our ladies for nearly an hour. ”

Maybe that was it-- finding some form of joy in finding another person that just... Also really cared for their beloved, finding somebody that’s... well, seen a lot. And finding somebody with an accent like yours. Felt rare for poor Max sometimes, but hey! It was good t’a know he can follow Mr. Columbo around. Day was tough, anyway... PTSD was one hell of a thing. So, talking to this guy was a real breath of fresh air.

“ Honestly, sir, it’s nice talkin’ to ya, ” Max piped up after a moment, tapping at the side of his face with his three-fingered hand, “ Jus’ nice findin’ a guy like ya!... Y’see, I’m in the military-- lotsa people talk about findin’ all sorts’a ladies.. gee, it’s-- it’s like, while I understand ‘em, they’s presume that since I’m a young guy, I’ll think the same! But, man, I jus’ wanna be wit’ my Evie, you know? I’ve already dealt with a lotta crazy stuff jus’ t’a have ‘er in my arms again. ”

He really hoped Columbo didn’t know him from the news... being an ‘up-and-coming actor’ that ‘stole Evelyn’ from Schulhoff, with Max being labeled a ‘player’ and ‘lady-taker’, but... he wasn’t that at all! Bastards.

#✯ everything for my dear evie! ~ answered✯#✯captured ~ ic✯#verse tbt.#rewcund #✯jailbreak! ~ crossover✯#ask to tag tw #ptsd tw #infidelity mention tw #adultery mention tw #//max vc; weakly: i JUST wanna keep my lady outta rly bad relationships dammit THEY ALWAYS DO THIS TO ME!!!!!! :(

7 notes · View notes

blkkizzat · 1 month

Text

'SINS OF THE FATHER'

PRIEST!NANAMI X READER

✟ the liturgy: (summary) Even the most pious of men succumb to temptation and Father Kento is no exception... especially when it comes to you. (Priest!Nanami POV) ✟ the confession: (tw) dark themes, sacrilege, adultery, blasphemy, jealously, exhibitionism, blackmail/manipulation, heavy biblical references, cunnalingus, fingering, riding dick, shoe fucking, blow jobs, panty sniffing, olfactophilia, dacryphilia, lightly suggested altarboy!yuji (aged-up) x reader, oil tycoon!gojo x reader, suggested mentions of reader x other jjk men, corruption, masturbation and angst as you are literally tormenting this poor priest (lol). ✟ the sins: (wc) 4.1k ✟ the opening rites:(a/n) i grew up catholic (got confirmed too) and went to catholic school but haven't stepped inside a church in literal years. i was honestly surprised how many bible references came so easily from pure memory while writing this.

Sanctified conviction radiates off Father Kento as he approaches the inordinately adorned wood carved pulpit with authority to address his congregation.

Despite the uncomfortable Summer heat there is no lack of attendance, a sea of familiar faces packed into the small town chapel. The buzzing song of cicadas and soft oscillation of the large fan circulating humid air through the church are the only sounds heard as the masses eagerly await his homily.

You were among them of course.

Sitting front and center– a small saccharine smile graced your lips while your doe-like eyes, captivated and attentive, were made even bigger as they raised to the podium to meet his own.

Bible open, Father Kento takes a full breath pause before he finally speaks, his gaze is benevolent yet his voice is firm as it projects over the congregation.

“Dear Brothers and Sisters– Let us reflect on the gospel of First Corinthians Chapter 10 Verse 13…and The Lord says– ‘There hath no temptation taken you but such as is common to man—”

Oh but you– you were anything but common– and irregardless of any higher standing his status as a clergy member bestowed upon him he was still a man of flesh and blood.

No matter the effort exerted, Father Kento had been unable to keep his eyes from yours during the service. The magnetism of unknown and certainly unholy forces drew him to you time and again without fail.

No beauty in town rivaled yours, not with an angelic countenance that complemented your delicate features so gracefully in your every action.

Yours was a form of divine femininity rivaling that of Venus herself.

If that wasn’t beguiling enough, your honeyed voice and syrupy words had the ability to sway even the most feral of temperaments. Leaving those who heard it at your mercy like a gentle but deadly siren.

“—but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able—”

Is God faithful?

Ironic how you had Father Kento questioning the very foundations of his own faith while simultaneously indoctrinating God’s dogma to his faithful parishioners.

If you were a test he had failed.

Many times.

Even the first man, Adam, had fallen to Eve’s allures and not even the warrior strength of Samson was able to overcome Delilah’s seductions.

Who was he to prevail where the biblical idols had fallen?

What actual grace could God give man against the sensual temptation that he had carved from man’s own rib?

Father Kento had felt forsaken of God’s grace ever since you had approached him after mass to quietly request the rites of confession. He should have refused when you kindly solicited him to perform them in the cooler confines of the secluded rectory over the oven-like heat of a chapel confessional box in summer.

Led astray so effortlessly by your genial charms as you looked to him like a lamb lost and addressed him so meekly as “Father Kento”. He would have just as easily given you access to heaven then if it were in his power.

Yet it was you who had so graciously led him to the gates of Zion— which so conveniently happened to reside in the velvety depths between your thighs.

Consequently, the only sins that were confessed in the rectory that day were the moist squelches of your peach-ripened pussy gushing around his cock and coalescing with the frenzied sounds of hot flesh slapping together in unison.

A child of Lilth incarnate to be sure but you looked so pure and celestial, even in ecstasy.

Hair matted to the sides of your face drenched in sweat while your nimble hands clutched onto his clerical collar. Your eyes filled with such loving devotion and you rode him earnestly as if it was your life’s penance.

Father Kento in turn gives you his absolution by taking you from behind. The swell of your plump rear rippling against his hips and shared fluids splashing onto his hard abdomen feverishly drive him closer to God than he’d ever been.

Yes, he is weak.

But Father Kento held the conviction that not even The Vicar of Christ, the Pope himself would be able to resist the vice grip of your silken cunt as if its true purpose was never to bear life but to wring out the very essence of the soul of man.

He’d fallen prey to a day-walking succubus on hallowed holy grounds.

No– Father Kento was certain if this church had ever truly been blessed as a house of God you would have caught aflame the moment you graced its threshold.

“—but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye are able to bear it’.”

Father Kento concluded the passage. Nonetheless, neither it nor any other doctrine had provided him the solace of escape and nor biblical strength did he receive to endure against his temptations.

There was no resisting you.

There was no escaping you.

For anyone you cast your sights on.

This is exemplified by the obvious effect you have on the young alter boy Yuji.

Barely old enough to be called a man, the youth's entire body flinches whenever you spare a sweet glance in his direction.

Has Yuji’s innocence already been stolen?

Father Kento must quell the inkling of jealousy at the thought lest he stumble over his words and shame himself further.

He was a man in every sense of the word and a man of the cloth, he would not compete for your adulterous affections with his own altar boy.

Even so, Father Kento’s lip does curl in disapproval at the deep flush of guilt on Yuji’s cheeks. Yuji clumsily trips over his own feet, nearly permitting the blessed vessels for the rites of eucharist to fall to the ground.

Harlot! Have you really allowed someone other than himself to bathe in the sins of Jezebel?

Maintaining composure through his sermon, Father Kento reminds himself that an inexperienced youth is no threat.

However it is more than likely Yuji– who normally is so oblivious in nature– had likewise become aware of the wicked exhibition of sacrilege occurring beneath the prayer cloth in your lap at the very hands of your own husband– Satoru Gojo.

“So you may ask where does that leave us as followers of Christ? Temptations lure us into doing, saying or thinking something that does not reflect who we really are as sons and daughters of God.”

Neither you nor your husband were Christ’s children so none of these ideologies applied to either of you.

Nefarious philistines the both of you– godless and immoral.

Although Father Kento was for certain your husband, Oil Tycoon, Satoru Gojo– was the only one whose deeds could put yours to shame.

The white haired devil had descended upon the quiet small town like a thief in the night to greedily capture the first few drops of black gold that surged from the earth before it could even fall to the ground. Quickly buying up land and resources, in less than a fortnight Gojo essentially had control over the entire town– its priest included.

But as he became more wealthy, so did the town and its people. Satoru Gojo built up the town around him to match his own gluttony for opulence, taking the town and its people away from simple old time comforts and into the more complex modern age.

Therefore the man was seen as a saintly savior, rather than the lecherous leech he truly was.

To Father Kento’s credit, if he deserved any at all– he had initially held strong in his faith.

He was not a man tempted by the power that would come from a promotion to bishop if a larger church was built. Nor was he tempted by monetary gain. The treasures he had always held most valuable were only those to be found in God’s kingdom.

Familiar with the tricks masked by flamboyant arrays of grandior, Father Kento’s folly had been his own headstrong vainglory in being a man above the lures of temptation. Thus he failed in recognizing you as the seductive snake in sheep's clothing the cunning tycoon Gojo had sent to be his undoing.

And you had never once failed to unravel him.

Even now Father Kento struggles to keep himself together as you inconspicuously lean against your husband, your head resting gently on his shoulder while the dainty fan you are holding obscures the lower half of your face.

What appears as an innocuous attempt to halt the perspiration rolling from your nape into your heaving bosom is merely a front to hide the sinful ‘o’ your cherry lips form.

Your chest softly heaves although your labored breaths aren’t from the humid heat shrouding the church– but the increasing warmth dampening in your loins. All which had been provoked by your husband slipping two fingers through the buttons of your thin sundress and into your pussy, lightly teasing its gooey folds. Gojo’s movements are mostly concealed by the cloth but Father Kento can make out the skillful circular motions stroking your spongy bud and causing the sporadic twitch in your knees.

You had writhed similarly under him. You were always far too sensitive.

Fat tears would never fail to pour from your bright eyes when he would latch his mouth onto your sex. You would be his last supper if ever given the choice. If heaven had a flavor it would surely be akin to the taste of your pink candied cunt and he knew of no sweeter treat on earth.

Twas no wonder then how Father Kento easily loses all sense of self when flicking his tongue into your gaping slit. Swirling the appendage within your gummy walls he gluttonously slurps down the steady stream of your flowing nectar.

Your mewls and cries for him are far lovelier than even the song of cherubim. Father Kento has committed them to memory and as such he knows when they reach a certain octave– your pitch so high it's practically soundless– you're nearing your nirvana.

Arriving at your peak you would thread your hands through his blonde locks and thrust your hips forward as if his mouth were salvation itself. Your manicured nails would dig into his scalp to rock his head deeper into your plump pussy. The actions would beckon his tongue to finally give you its mercy by dragging it flat up your folds to suckle and nip at your swollen clit.

You never called on God then.

Nor your husband.

Only Father Kento.

Coincidentally, Father Kento’s gaze locks with Gojo’s for a brief moment and Gojo’s pale lips curl into smirk.

A fleeting look is shared before contact is broke but the message is clear:

Satoru Gojo own’s everything in this town.

Gojo owns your cunt.

Your cunt owns Father Kento.

Therefore by proxy Gojo owns him.

The revelation has Father Kento showing the white of his knuckles from the intensity of his grip on the pulpit podium as you simultaneously release a silent scream brazenly cumming on your husband’s dexterous fingers in the middle of mass.

“The time now is propitious for us all to make a journey of conversion, led by sincere faith to allow ourselves to be confronted with the Gospel. Let us confirm this commitment by sharing in The Body and The Blood of Christ.”

Proceeding with communion the altar boy Yuji stands next to Father Kento holding the tray where the blessed chalice of wine and platter of thin wafers reside as the congregation dutifully exits their rows to receive the eucharist.

As it is the more modern way to receive communion the majority of the congregation choses to place their non-dominant palm up over the other to respectfully receive the host. Yet traditionally, the priest placed the blessed wafer directly on the tongue of the one receiving. This practice was typically only seen by the elderly, the most exceedingly pious and of course— you.

When it is your turn to approach you beam brightly as you and all your beauty seem to float before him.

“The Body of Christ.”

Father Kento raises the host before you.

“Amen.”

You obediently replied.

Like expected your eyes fluttered to close as your pillowy lips parted in order to accept the host directly in your mouth.

God help him, this was the most sacred part of mass but the way your deviant tongue lulls out hot and thick with your saliva pooled on the edge and threatening to spill onto your lips has Father Kento shifting at his post.

You look just as compliant and yearning to receive as when you had been on your knees before him taking his cock in your mouth whole.

Father Kento delicately placed the host in your mouth in a similar fashion as to when he would tap the tip of his bulbous leaking cockhead onto your tongue.

So willing to please you kiss his angry red mushroom tip to appease his cock, swirling your tongue over the tiny hole before puckering it between your lips to greedily suck any drops of pre that dribbled forth as you pumped his base.

You were a tease.

That much was evident both then and now as you extended the tip of your tongue to caress the tip of his finger. A tiny kitten lick, but nevertheless a tingle ran through his cock in remembrance.

“The Blood of Christ.”

Father Kento presents the wine symbolizing the blood before you.

“Amen.”

Again you closed your eyes and allowed Father Kento to press the chalice against your parted lips.

The very picture of amenability, you actually enjoyed when he went rougher on you as a result of your teasing. Father Kento would gather your hair into a tight grip as he not-so-gently rammed his cock past your tonsils and down your throat.

It was unnatural and ungodly for a person to lack any semblance of a gag reflex such as you.

In response you pressed your fingers into his thighs– not as a means of resistance, but to control your own lust as you began shamelessly humping your mound against his leg. You were always desperate to feel any small sensation against your cunt while he ravaged your mouth.

Of course, Father Kento would oblige you and in turn he is rewarded with the heavy moans that would vibrate around his cock as his oxford loafer pushed up into your soaked core. Your white lace lingerie did little to contain your juices and as such Father Kento made use of the fluids leaking from your pussy as polish to shine his shoe.

Having sipped the wine from the chalice you peer up at Father Kento as if seeking his approval.

He gives you a small nod.

Similar to the one he bestows upon you after his seed has filled your stomach and you lick your lips as if it was his essence and not The Blood of Christ that lingered on them.

In the beginning, he had prayed long and hard to forget those sinful images of you that would intrude unwelcomed into his mind.

Yet you always had ways of sucking him back in.

Such as leaving your soiled panties stuffed between his headboard. Father Kento thought he was going mad when even after changing the sheets thrice was he still plagued with your smell.

He should have burned the offensive garment as soon as it was discovered and yet he treated it with reverence as if it were a holy object of salvation. Truly an euphoric experience, on days he couldn’t have you he’d bury his nose into the fabric murmuring blasphemy as he worshiped the very scent of you while jerking his cock.

When Father Kento finally ceased trying to resist you he then had the fleeting thought he could save you. Bring you to God and away from your villainous husband.

But you were no Mary Magdalene, there was no returning you to the flock.

You will not leave your husband who provides you wealth and security. Father Kento is not so enamored he holds illusions that extend beyond his reality. There is nothing Father Kento owns and nothing he can offer you but himself.

The singular consolation of the tragic circumstances is that Father Kento is sure you prefer his touch. The touch of a seemingly pious man who only has desires for you.

Unlike your scoundrel of a husband who Father Kento was sure had not remained faithful to your marriage bed. Not the way most of the female townsfolk threw themselves at Satoru Gojo. If he had no qualms using you to achieve his means he certainly had none for himself.

You were simply a pawn to be played, as was Father Kento.

“Before we depart I leave you with these words: Let every day be a new day to renew the promises of our Baptism: We renounce Satan and all his works and seductions — for sh– *ahem* HE – is the seducer. Now go forth, Brothers and Sisters and remain true in the light of God.”

The closing rites over, Father Kento has never been more relieved nor eager for the conclusion of a mass. Watching the congregation mingle in the entrance, he gives his farewell blessings to the parishioners.

A few still remained however you were nowhere to be seen.

This was not odd, the Gojos were a busy couple, likely excusing themselves immediately to attend to more important affairs.

Or so he hoped.

“There you are, Father! Riveting service, as always.”

With a devious grin and a firm drawn-out handshake Gojo greets Father Kento. Turning to face the devil himself, Father Kento greets Satoru in turn with a strained smile and an even firmer grip.

Yet still he is unable to show you any of the wrath you justly deserve and Father Kento’s smile is more genuine when he faces you.

You regard Father Kento coyly as your husband’s arm tightens around your waist. Your face is flushed and it’s evident you are still weakened from the orgasm your husband gave you earlier in front of the entire congregation.

That knowledge though is only held by the three of you, God and perhaps the altar boy Yuji.

Father Kento had never known you to be silent when cumming so the exertion of the effort you expended likely weighed heavy on you as displayed by how you are clinging to Gojo to keep from swaying on your feet.

“Thank you. I am but a humble messenger of The Lord’s wor–.”

“– Wait. Hold that thought!”

Father Kento’s eyebrow twitches as Gojo's attention is momentarily called elsewhere.

Every Sunday, a growing number of parishioners would seek Satoru Gojo’s greeting and recognition after service over that of their priest Father Kento.

True to character Gojo makes an obnoxious show of charisma which leaves the last group of parishioners fawning and singing his praises as they exit.

“Forgive me, Father. Where were we? Ah– Of course! Yes, you are quite excellent in your delivery of God’s word, a true testament to your faith!”

His flattery is so obviously false in its sincerity that Father Kento is not surprised when Gojo’s sordid smirk returns.

“But you are not only a messenger for The Lord… isn’t that right, Father Kento?”

Father Kento warily clutches onto the large cross dangling from the rosary around his neck as Gojo continues.

“I’ll need you to spread mine as well. Haven’t you heard? I have plans to run for Mayor.”

Mayor.

The diabolical fiend truly knew no limits in his quest for control over the town.

“I’ll need you to come over to dinner tonight to consult with the rest of my top supporters.”

Father Kento steeled himself..

There was nothing he could do to stop Satoru Gojo from being mayor but his infatuation with you aside, he could not walk straight into the lion's den to collude with heathens.

It would be the final nail in his coffin, Gojo would indeed own his soul.

“Oh! Y/N is prepping a feast too… aren’t you, angel?”

Gojo’s grip on your waist trails lower to palm the fat of your ass and you clutch on to him tighter as you nod eagerly in agreement, biting your lip as his large hands knead into your cheeks through your wispy dress.

Your body is ever responsive to Gojo’s touch just like he trained you to be.

“I must refuse. I have duties here to attend, I couldn’t poss–”

“P-Please F-Father…”

And just like that your delicate voice cuts through his iron defenses like it were warm butter.

“…K-Kento, p-please come!”

Your request fumbles out of your lips as a cry as Gojo’s devilish fingers dip past your ass to prod at your cunt.

“You heard her Father. She wants you to come. Break bread with us, you will be among friends. Friends who know how to share, yeah? I’ll even share a piece of her cream pie for dessert.”

That had been the final straw. Gojo had gone too far this time.

You seeking him out was one matter but he would not allow Satoru Gojo of all people to dangle you in front of him like a master would dangle a treat to a dog.

“Begone, you foul heretic. I will not tolerate your mockery of me, this church nor God any longer.”

Commanding in his tone, Father Kento extends the cross of the rosary forward to Gojo as if he were casting a malevolent curse back down to hell.

Father Kento doesn’t have the courage to look at you though, he can’t. Not if he wants to take a triumphant stand against Satoru Gojo.

And so Father Kento closes his eyes and silently prays.

Immediately bored at such a devout display, Gojo sighs rolling his eyes.

“Alright, alright, Father. I get it. Whatever you say, jeez. It’s not like I need your support to become mayor– just thought it would be nice is all. ”

Father Kento remains silent as he listens to both of your footsteps exit the church but not before Gojo stops at the doors, his cheerful voice taking on a dangerous edge.

“Heh, you know, not everyone in this town is as pious as you Father. Sheriff Fushiguro has never been one to turn down a stack of bills but I’m sure tonight he would enjoy sharing in Y/N’s creampie if you don’t.”

Father Kento’s eyes open to flash red with fury.

Having received a satisfactory enough reaction from the priest, Gojo grins wildly as your own eyes widen in shock at your husband’s words.

Has Gojo only ever used you to manipulate him alone?

The thought remains as Father Kento doesn’t miss the pleading gaze directed at him from over your shoulder as you are led out of the church.

Goddammit– He couldn’t let you fall into the brutish clutches of Toji Fushiguro.

Toji may have been the sheriff but he was well-known for his oafish demeanor and greasy womanizing ways.

NO! He mustn’t think of you any longer.

Father Kento needs to clear his mind of you for good with prayer.

Prayer and solitude.

Deep prayer and extensive solitude was what he needed if he ever hoped to rise again to gain God’s favor. He needed to call upon The Lord’s strength one last time to remain at the parish tonight and defy Gojo’s will.

Father Kento couldn’t let the pleasures of flesh continue to manipulate the very fibers of his being in such a way.

The rosary still in his grasp Father Kento raises his hands close in prayer as a final call for God’s mercy… and then it hits him– wafting off his fingers, overwhelming his senses and igniting every nerve in his being.

The scent of your cunt.

The lingering perfume of your sinful drippings spilled on your husband’s hand during mass had been transferred to his own when Gojo shook his hand and held it so firmly.

The bastard.

The rush hits him hard and he feels dizzy as his ears begin to ring. Vertigo overtakes Father Kento as he holds the offending hand out as if he had been poisoned.

Leaning back against a wall to gather himself, Father Kento realizes once the manic pounding coursing through his veins begins throbbing in his loins that he’s fated for damnation.

This is the moment he’d always dreaded although ironic with the simple acceptance of it he feels no despair.

Father Kento’s conviction is finally clear as he is left with a singular truth that rang through his entire soul:

Whatever solace he would know, whatever peace he would have in this life, he would only find with his cock buried in the sweet embrace of your cunt.

✟

©blkkizzat 2024. do not steal works or gfx, do not translate.

✟ the closing rites: (a/n) hell is hot and it's surely my destination after writing this. i tried to leave it a little ambiguous to whether y/n is actually in-love with nanami or just a sex-crazed slut eager to use him at the request of her husband. i don't have a pt.2 planned just fyi as this is meant to be a oneshot. although i do need to write more nanami so i will take requests for him! but fair warning i am very slow i apologize.

also shout out to the amazing art i used for the gfx ✟ art by mishwell

✟ REBLOG to be unburdened of your sins by Father Nanami but likes and comments are also appreciated!

upcoming: the nursery (yakuza!toji), please teach me! (ceo!gojo), request: teasing choso (college au), request: sukuna x blkreader, [none in any order as im at the mercy of my adhd lol]

1K notes · View notes

hornybitchdisease · 1 year

Text

Tried to fall asleep. My bf is in the next room and all I can do is think of fucking this guy.

He’s not going to be good for me. He doesn’t make me laugh. He has an…okay voice. We don’t even get along well. He’s just there and awkward and I’m awkward already.

Like. I wish I had my bf’s deal of being demisexual. It would solve all my problems. No emotional attachment? No attraction. I might be oversimplifying demisexuals, and I apologize. I’m a bi disaster, it’s hard for me to understand non-on-sight attraction to certain ppl. At least the way my bf explains it.

But back to the topic at hand. He’s too straight laced. There’s nothing actively weird about this guy except at his age he’s still single. I pride myself at bringing out the weird in people. But this guy? Nothing. He’s no fun. There’s no screws loose to make him attractive. He’s not even that good looking.

Then why do I want ride him like a show pony?

Im happy at home. My bf is my soulmate. Theres no one else who makes me feel safe and loved. He’s weird and im weird and everything is wonderful.

Except my damn uterus is like NOPE THIS ONE.

#cheating tw #I’m not cheating I’m just commiting adultery #lusting after a guy who isn’t your s/o.#crush #technically a sin for those who believe #sex mention tw

0 notes

sirensofiaarchive · 2 years

Note

Do you think you're with Roman because of your daddy issues?

"Roman's nothing like my Papi, so maybe. He's is a wealthy wealthy man and when he married my mother he believed she'd fall in line with his life because they were madly in love but she hated it. Hated the way he treated people. Kicking them out of their homes when they couldn't afford their rent, raising it constantly, making sure that he always ended up with dollars in his pocket. When she got pregnant with another man's baby he just stopped caring about anything. About me, about himself, he just invited women back, would promise them this amazing life for a few days and then he'd move onto the next. They'd say they were going to be my new Mum, that Papi was so amazing and then...the next one would walk in. So sure, all people have similarities but Roman isn't promising me what he can't deliver."

@werewolfroman

#meme anon #meme #poverty mention tw #divorce mention tw #adultery mention tw

1 note · View note

take-everything-you-can · 10 months

Text

Put Your Head On My Shoulder

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

A/N: This Fandom has given me the most inspiration I've had in years and this is a thank you to every single one of you. This idea spurred from one too many drinks and unhinged DMs and I'm so excited to share it with you guys. So here goes nothing lol. A special thanks to my lady loves @lesservillain , @ghost-proofbaby , @bettyfrommars , and @bimbobaggins69 for beta reading and letting me fill your inboxes with all my little thots for our little gremlin man !

P.S : BEFORE I GET INTO ANYTHING THIS STORY IS 18+ MINORS NEED TO GTFO PLEASE AND THANK YOU !!!!! Also please remember to like and reblog from your creators It keeps the fandom alive !!! ( honestly don't know what I would do without ya'll )

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female Reader ( Pumpkin )

Summary: A 1950's daydream of malt shop kisses and doo wop singles far behind closed doors. Dreamboat Eddie Munson picks up more than just an extra route. A love that makes you weak in the knees... but how long can you go on loving a man that isn't the one your married to.

TW: Angst- mentions of an affair (adultery), verbal abuse mentions, mentions of weight ( mentions of food within the story throughout), disordered eating, feeling unloved, self deprecation slightly, staying with toxic partner Fluff- pet names, domestic bliss, mutual pining Smut- fingering, soft touches, overstimulation slightly very slight, unprotected PIV, cream pie, spanking,..... tbh i can't think of anymore but if you see any please let me know ... Thank you all so much. ( every chapter will get updated tw)

WC: 4.1K

Flour covers the countertop in your kitchen, and a rolling pin is set to the side while you knead the soft pastry ingredients together. Apples sit freshly peeled in a separate dish. Sliced and added to sugar and cinnamon. Picking up the rolling pin, you do your best to flatten the dough to a thin sheet and mold it to the glass dish before you.

“Well, this dough is much better than the first,” you say aloud to yourself. Your husband once told you that speaking out loud to yourself was a sign of a weak mind, you never put much stock in that. But here you were doing exactly that as your days consist of waiting for your husband to return home from work.

You splash a bit of vanilla into the apple mixture to complete your pie filling. Once it is all tucked neatly beneath the fluffy dough, you take a knife and leave four little holes within the surface and crimp the edges together, sealing the flavors within. A touch of sugar is added to the top along with an egg wash before placing the pie on a rack in the oven. A timer is set for twenty minutes, a reminder to lower the temperature and to add your special ingredient.

Soft music plays throughout the house, Billie Holiday and Ella Fitzgerald keep you company on these long lonely days. Lonely but only for such a short time. Your husband works for the state doing something he thinks you're too dumb to understand so why talk about it? If anyone ever asks you simply say ‘Oh please you think a woman wants to know such things’. That usually earns you a laugh at cocktail parties and a warm smile from your man. If you could even call him that.

Yes, he is your man in the sense that your last names are the same and you had shared the same bed. Where is the love though? It isn’t tangible and hasn’t been for quite some time now. Your day begins and ends with a few words apart from an I love you. You served him still, acted to the prying eyes, as a doting Wife. Four years and Everyone still thought you had a perfect life.

That dream of white picket fences and shared milkshakes. That love of never-ending kisses and satisfying sex. Everyone around you wanted all that you had. Would they still want your life if they could see past those closed doors and shut curtains?

Would they want to spend their mornings hiding the bags under their eyes from nights of restless sleep? Would they want to have a constant monologue of the flaws seen in the mirror? Ones that your oh-so-loving husband pointed out to you time and time again. Would they want to cook and clean knowing they would never receive a thank you? No, you knew they wouldn’t. All the small things that build and grow until it becomes a monotonous routine. Walking through days as if the next would be the exact same and then doing it all again and again, Until one day something changed.

Two months prior A knock on the door, one that started to come once a week. The company of CC & Drums Dairy was paid to bring you a gallon of milk, A necessity your husband called it. A man with long dark locks that flowed over his shoulder and curls that dipped across his forehead under his cap. Deep Brown eyes that sparkled with flecks of amber as the sun hit him just right. Dressed in white overalls to comply with his company uniform and sleek black shoes that shine just as brightly as his smile. His name tag reads Eddie in a sweet embroidered cursive. Eddie, a name that would soon become something you would never forget.

Your timer goes off as you check the pie, squeezing a lemon over the crust for that citrus tang. Slipping the dessert back into the oven, for another half hour or so, a knock sounds through the house, sending the butterflies in your stomach in a tizzy. Eddie had arrived.

A quick task of undoing the strings to your apron and a fast fix of hair in the mirror you had hung in the hall. A hand to your abdomen as you intake a breath and let it stagger out between your lips, hesitating to open the door. The second you see him you can feel the way the tops of your cheeks heat and plump with a smile. One that matches his.

You take a second and wonder if he knows how handsome he is. The way the small lines beside his eyes crinkle with years of use. You wonder if he knows that the instant you see him, your heart stops beating. But most of all you wonder if you're the only one those soft eyes and long lashes catch in his gaze.

“Afternoon darling, I must say this heat wave has got to be breaking records. Ought not keep these out here too long.” as he lifts the small crate of glass bottles holding the product out.

You knew better than to take it from him, even if every bone in your body screamed too. The last time you tried you nearly flipped the whole crate, underestimating the weight. From that day on you always stood to the side as you let Eddie into your home to set the dairy in your kitchen. It was another thing you wondered about him. Did he do this for everyone else too?

“ Well let's not keep them then sir.” standing to the side he slides past you brushing a hand across the elbow you held to the door. His way of saying hello. Small touches here and there as he could never keep his hands to himself for too long in your presence.

“ Something smells awful delicious in her ma’am.”

“An Apple pie is in the oven, maybe you’ll stay and have a slice. For your troubles of course.”

“Mhmm, my troubles.” Eddie sat the crate on the counter next to the ice box and turned his body towards you and enveloped you in his stronghold. An intoxicating embrace as he pulled you flush to his body.

“ I missed you, you know that pretty girl?” soft tone, almost a whisper. A small smile he couldn't see but could feel made its way to your face.

“I bet you say that to all the girls on your route.” he lets out a small chuckle.

“Only the breathtaking ones.” a falter to your features as your mind reeled with all the possibilities.

Does he miss Mrs.Cunningham the way he misses you? Does he miss Ms.Buckley the same? That sick green monster finds its way under your skin as you think of all the girls he must have at his beck and call. But today that monster wasn’t going to ruin the few fleeting moments you could spend with him. You needed Eddie in the most carnal of ways.

“Do you want to know what I missed? “ Your fingers trail their way from the small of his back and up over his shoulder, landing on his neck just below his ear. Cupping his face you bring it down and catch his lips as they meet yours.

“Oh yeah? you missed me too Pumpkin?” a second crash of your lips to his, makes him hum from the back of his throat. His nose nudges yours to the left so his teeth can catch your bottom lip, pulling back slightly to hear the small whine you emit.

“I always miss you, Eddie.” His hands travel down over your figure as he starts to ruffle the hem of your dress up. Thankful for its length to hide how wet you had become just from him being in the home you share with your spouse. A topic you and Eddie tried to steer clear of, but the wrongness of the act just felt so right.

Over a year your husband hadn’t touched you, barely talked to you and some days you were even sure he hadn't even looked in your direction. Eddie though, In the last two months, Eddie had made you feel seen. He made you feel heard, and most of all he made you feel desired.

As his hand finds the thin cotton that covers your cunt he glides his digits over the wet patch that had grown by just the thought of him. A deep hum and a small huff of breath from Eddie against your neck as he kissed his way to your shoulder.

“So wet for me and I've barely even touched you. Are you that starved for affection?” The words forming in that sweet small surrender to him were all but cut off as he slid a finger through your folds and teased your entrance. A gasp was the response he got, one he loved to hear in protest every time he had you.

“C’mon honey tell me what you want.” how could you respond to him with words if you couldn't even think of them? The man before you had spent the last few months discovering just how to make you melt in his arms.

He knew that the spot behind your knee was his best friend for when he had you on your back. He knew the way your hips stutter when you're close to your peak, and he knew that if your eyes found that they couldn't stay open that you were in utter bliss.

His favorite thing he had learned throughout your time together though was that even when he knew you had your doubts, you still trusted him in every sense of the word.

After only two months Eddie knew you better than you know yourself. Better than your husband had ever cared to know you.

“ Please, Eddie.” He smiled down at you

“ Please What Honey?”

“ Dip in Eddie, Fuck me please.” He could feel the slackening of your legs as his assault on your clit had made you a bit sensitive, in his focus on making you feel as good as he possibly could, in what little time he had with you. He slid two of his thick fingers into your dripping heat as his thumb stayed in a rhythm that matched his wrist as he curled in and let the sounds of his efforts echo off the small kitchen walls.

Moaning into Eddie's ear as his finger worked in and out of you making that heat inside of you grow higher and higher. Clutching the strap of his overalls, a small pull leaning back, as the pleasure he was giving you kept climbing.

“ Come on now baby, let go.” A final intake of air, hold on to the breath that led you to your walls squeezing eddies fingers tight. That coil snapped as you let your body fall slack against him a loud moan from the farthest depths within you found its way out of your lungs.

When your eyes land on Eddie after your come down all you can see is that smile. The dimple-creasing smile that kept haunting your dreams at night.

“I need more.” You didn’t know how but his smile grew even wider and more sinister as his tone began to deepen. A kiss is pressed to your lips, not urgent, understanding.

“ You need more? Well, it's a damn good thing that what you're asking for is in stock then Pumpkin.” He turned you around to face the small table that sat in your kitchen, knowing what he wanted from you. He wasn’t the only one taking notes from your time together.

You braced yourself against the worn wood and clutched the sides of it as you heard the familiar clinks of metal as his rings fumbled with the buckle of his belt.

The wait, though it is small, is brutal. Anticipation makes your stomach flip and cunt flutter. A shuffle out of his overalls gives Eddie a moment to just admire the way you listen so well. These small moments have him thanking every bad decision that got him here. To this small town, with this small job, on this small route. A route he picked up as a last resort. Yeah, he doesn't know who he's praying to but whoever is listening, he's singing grace.

A grip in the slight pudge of your hips to keep himself steady, Eddie is gentle as he slips his cock through your folds gathering your slick over his length and breaching your desire. A deep moan and a few choice words fall from Eddie as he fills you and meets the small wavering gasp you let out, a breath you didn't know you had been holding. A whine of impatience, his sign to move.

A soft speed turns ravenous as his dick uses your walls to curve his hooks into you deeper and deeper. A sigh of his name and you can feel the stutter in his thrust. He slows his pace if only to keep himself from having to leave your presence all too soon.

"Fuck darling, so good to me, taking me so well like this pussy was made for me." You mewl from beneath him, dropping your forehead to the wood that is holding you up. You fear that if it had not been here your legs would have given up the second he started talking. "Isn't that right pumpkin? Made just for me? " A sharp thrust and you know he wants an answer in the way his grip turns bruising. A trip through your mind as you try and collect the words from thin air.

"YES! God yes, I was made just for you."

"Such a good girl for me baby. That's right, isn't it? You're all mine aren't you?" Another squeeze to your hip and a smack that lands hard on your ass. Eddie's palm kneads the sting as you answer him.

" All yours, all yours, no one else, just you baby." A grunt hum from the back of his throat as he grips your shoulder and leans so his body is flush with yours. His breath is on your neck as he leans to your ear.

"Not even your husband, just you and me baby?"

"Just you and me Ed's" Your eyes tunnel and you see white as your orgasm rushes through you, Eddie's own a thrust away as he moans deep against your skin. His body weight and yours against the kitchen table as you both find your way down from the clouds.

Small kisses he leaves to your spine and the back of your neck. You turn your head and he places another small one to the upturned corner of your mouth. A bell chimes and you sit for a few seconds letting Eddie gather his own bearings. A small pat to the curve of your pussy as Eddie pulls the cotton back in place. A shock to your sensitivity.

"Keep that in there baby, that way you have a part of me while I'm gone." A heat to your cheeks as the thought of Eddie's cum dripping out of you while your husband sat across from you and read the paper over dinner. A sly smirk from the man you just let defile the small space, one you would let do ungodly things to you.

You put on oven mitts as Eddie finds a few glasses in the cabinet. You slice into the flakey crust and slip through the filling as you place the large piece on a plate for you to share. Eddie pours milk as you find some silverware, he places the bottles in your fridge so they keep.

Turning with a smile, he is the definition of adoration. In your eyes he is everything.

Why is it that when his time with you is coming to an end you almost wish it would end as soon as possible? Almost as if you would wish he would part with some harsh words to make you not want him in the most beautiful ways. You have to make yourself believe these things before he leaves because if you don’t, it would just shatter you. So you take a different route, you don’t shatter yourself, instead, you splinter and crack all the things that hold you until you see him again. The times where he glues those little shards back in place if only for you to break them off again and again. A scared thought and a small shake of your head trying to rid yourself of it. A married woman. What would he possibly want from you other than a good lay?

He sees that doubt within your mind as if reading it. He takes your hand in his as he laces your fingers together.

“ Penny for your thoughts Pumpkin?” You glance finally meeting his eyes as you clear your throat.

“ Nothing important hun.” You slide a fork to his side of the table as your eyes dart to the clock. He squeezes your hand once more, lowering his eyes in search of yours again.

“It is important if it bothers you.” Your heart stops. The breath you were going to take gets caught in your throat and you turn on that winning smile you had trained yourself to hold in uncomfortable circumstances. One you wish he couldn't see through.

“ It’s nothing Eds, really.”

“Do you promise?” you take a hand and cup his cheek.

How do you tell him that he is your first thought in the morning and the last thought before falling asleep? How instead of counting sheep you try and count the freckles on his face by sheer memory? How could you tell him you wish you were his one and only? That you have never felt about another human soul the way you feel about his. Instead, you stuff it down, apple pie soon to follow.

“I Promise.”

You know he doesn’t believe you but he would rather set out to sea and die of starvation as the sharks feed from him than to make the last moments he has with you tainted with fights and tears. God when you cry it absolutely destroys him.

The first time you had ever let him take you in his arms you had just gotten off the phone with your husband. He had heard hushed words while he waited for you to grab the weekly tip your husband left for him. Your husband had informed you that he would not be coming home, as the fight from the night before had lingered into the morning and would now follow you well into the night. The first time you had opened the door Eddie studied the angelic features of your face, and they had plagued his dreams for such a long time at this point.

When you rounded the corner with a smudge of mascara beneath your eyes, he instantly without thinking took you in, pushing your face to his chest as his hand rested on the back of your head. Slight comfort made the tears begin again as he wiped the remainder of the smudge and irritation from your face. No man had ever done something as small as comforting you before. In the two months since he had started this route, he knew he had instantly fallen head over heels in love with you.

You had taken two bites from the plate that sat in front of you and Eddie had finished the slice. He even went as far as to slide a finger in the crumbs on the plate and lick them off in an attempt to show you how much he had enjoyed it. His time with you.

A gathering of glasses you brought to the sink as he brought the other dishes and sat them in the deep well while wrapping his arms around your waist and you stood eyes closed relishing in the last little bit of affection he could offer to you.

A kiss to your shoulder as you turn your head resting it on his.

“I’ll be by in a week Pumpkin.” A nod to the fact you already knew. “ Seven days.” Another nod, not risking the crumble in your voice. “ Not long at all.” Another small kiss to your cheek as you turned into his chest and rested your forehead on his.

“Seven days?”

“ Seven days Pumpkin. Do you think you can wait for me? Just seven days? “

“I think I could wait a lifetime for you Eddie.”

“I’ll see you in a week, Mrs.Carver.”

“ A week Mr.Munson.”

A kiss to your lips and a parting gift of his very own pie before he snuck out through the back door, so as to not raise suspicion. A slow walk from the kitchen to the door and to turn a lock, on your mind. On your hope. You could do this. You could wait seven days.

Your husband comes through the door late as he had been doing for the last year or so. You had expected it from him at this point. You had started to make his dinner later and later knowing that if you had made it too early he would tell you all the ways he couldn't eat it. If it had gone too cold he would refuse and the hard work would go directly into the trash.

He walked in as you took his dinner off the stove and placed it on a dish for him.

“Right on time doll.”

“ I don’t know how on time it is, It’s Nearly eight in the evening, Jason!”

“ I’m not doing this with you tonight.”

He always did this. He would come home and you would ask him where he had been, and he’d always end the conversation before it could even begin. You sat his plate in front of him as you sat across the table from him. Times where you could really take him in and see that the feelings you had once long ago were snuffed out like a flame to a candle.

“ Are you not eating dear?”

“ I ate a bit earlier in the day.”

“Thanks for waiting .” He rolled his eyes and you returned the gesture.

“ I wouldn’t have had to wait if you had just picked up the phone and told me when you were going to be on your way home. I’m not waiting until we hit a new day to eat Jason I’m not going hungry just so you-”

“ Wouldn’t harm you any though would it.”

You left the table. Your weight had started to become a key focus as he knew it bothered you more than anything else. You had gained some weight and your mother and friends had commented on it from time to time. For your husband to tho, it made you furious. You ate when you were unhappy, it was something you had done since you were a child. The only person who thought you could stand to eat a little more had been Eddie.

It happened slowly, you would make him food now and then, and the majority of the time He would offer you a bit. It started with a bite and progressed into cutting his sandwiches in half just so you could have something to eat. Unlike your husband, Eddie had a suspicion that you weren’t eating enough. Like you weren’t giving your body what it needed to survive so he would constantly ask for you to eat with him. At least then he would know you had something of substance within your day.

You had gone to your bedroom and gotten out of your daily’s slowly separating them into their hampers waiting to hear the stomping footsteps of Jason as he made his way to the spare bedroom. He had taken residency there about a month before Eddie came into your life and you were thankful for the times that Eddie left you yearning for more. To call out another man's name while with your significant other no matter how insignificant they were would still bring you shame like no other.

Slipping into your nightgown as Jason shuts the door to his room you wait a few minutes to take the walk back down the stairs to stand in front of the sink. Looking up at the sky through the window above the stars seem to shine brightly. You attempt to find the little dipper and look for its companion not far from where it lays, the version of a larger size. Constellations begin to blur as you let the silent tears fall. Hoping that somewhere out there in this little old town, Eddie too is looking up at the moon and wishing you were by his side as you wished upon all the stars in the sky. What a long time seven days would be.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #milkman!eddie #eddie fluff #eddie munson au #eddie munson series #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic

342 notes · View notes

msjr0119 · 1 year

Text

This life

PART ONE

The majority of characters belong to Pixelberry from The Royal Romance/Heir. This is an A/U - with only parts being linked to canon.

Series warnings ⚠️: Adult language, sexual, adultery, loss of a baby.

Based on the Netflix series- Sex/life. A few parts of dialogue are from the tv series.

Please do not read unless you are over 18 🔞

Tags: Because I’ve been gone MIA in like forever I don’t know who’s here anymore 🙈… so only tagging people who have asked previously.

@ao719 @kingliam2019 @txemrn

Previously: Introduction

****

School psychologists aren't supposed to write books or diaries about sex. Doing so would be considered 'unethical' and 'a fireable offense'. Lucky for you, ethics was never my strong suit.

****

“It’s good to see you, Brooks.”

“It’s Cooper-“ Due to the shock, this was the only thing that Riley could mutter. Finally making eye contact, he gave her the refined look of innocence. “My surname is now, Cooper.”

They say that New York City is one of the worlds best places to take a run. Running was never my forte- I impersonated Phoebe in that one episode of Friends. The emotional pain that I felt in this moment, I’m not sure how many miles my body could suffer before shutting down…

“Riley! Wait!”

****

Olivia Nevrakis was never one to leave the house without looking presentable. Her attire generally consisted of stiletto’s which matched anything that contained sequins. She always used to say that she wore these type of shoes for self defence. In the frantic attempt to catch up with Riley, this one time she accepted that sneakers would have to do.

“Where’s, Riley?” Liam questioned as he scrutinised the unusual appearance from their friend.

“I’m glad I’ve found you- I don’t know. I assumed that she came back here, to you both?”

“What do you mean, Olivia?” There was no need for an explanation- the figure that ambled towards them confirmed the reason behind Riley’s disappearance.

“What the fuck is he doing here?”

“It’s a free country, Linz…. Liam, looking good bro!”

“Listen to what I’m about to say, Drake.. I am not your ‘bro’…” Exaggerating the word ‘bro’, Drake took a big gulp as Liam squared up towards him. “If anything happens to Riley- I will kill you this time!”

“You haven’t got it in you, Li-“ The tension between the two old friends, could have exploded due to the overload of built up anger that had been formed over the years. Olivia ‘sacrificed’ herself, separating them both- as they continued providing death stares. Neither wanted to throw the first fist or insult any further- in that moment there was the realisation that they both wanted the same thing. For Riley to be found- safe. Drake stepped back, and to everybody’s surprise expressed a slight bit of remorse.

“I fucked up, Li. I know that. I regret it each and every day. At least she has Preston to look after her, he’s a lucky guy.”

“Preston is an intelligent and caring….” This slight description stabbed Drake in the heart- if given an opportunity Lindsey would continue to dig the ‘knife’ as revenge for the pain that he had caused her sister. “Preston… he’s… The most an amazing three year old.”

“Excuse me?”

“Preston is my nephew- Riley’s son.” Awareness had finally hit, Drake- he had his wires crossed. Wishing that he hadn’t mentioned Preston, the confirmation of his identity now pulled on his heartstrings. Concealing his true feelings, he nodded to the trio- before leaving without another word.

“Lindsey, Liam- myself and Drake… it’s not what you are both assuming. I would never do that to, Ri. I can explain. It was just bad timing.” Olivia pleaded her innocence- she now knew that the jetlag would have to be put on hold whilst she explained the unexpected return of Drake Walker.

****

January 3rd

Let’s try this again. Drama. Life is always full of it in my case. The life of Riley Brooks. It probably would make more entertainment than the Kardashian’s.

Alcohol acts in crazy ways. It affects people differently. It can make you feel invisible- or at least it did for me tonight. I still can’t remember how I had the energy or knowledge on how to get home safely. Walking up the drive, I noticed my snobby and nosey neighbours- Hannah and Neville peering out the window. My brain was informing me to provide them with the middle finger gesture. Instead I gave a friendly neighbour wave along with the biggest fake smile that I could provide. The curtain soon shut as the pair probably scurried away like the rats that they are. What dickheads. If I know Hannah well, I can predict that she will visit tomorrow with a basket full of freshly baked muffins waiting for the tea to be spilled. The women here believe that they are the real life ‘Desperate Housewives’. Riverside may appear to be a seemingly perfect neighbourhood but like Wisteria Lane - here it more than likely also hides; many secrets, crimes, forbidden romances and domestic struggles.

Betrayal. It can occur in different ways. But you never expect it to happen with people whom you loved. The same two people who you trusted with all your heart once upon a time.

My husband is as gorgeous inside as out. I’ve never once caught him looking at another woman. To be honest, I’ve never caught him in a lie- or had proof to prove any potential deceit. So what’s the problem?

“Honey, where are you?”

“I’m upstairs, Nate.”

“Ri, things have been super crazy at work. You have no idea.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. We’re talking post-merger madness. Everyone is just angling for a position. They are all trying to show off for the new boss, you know.” Katrina- fantastic, little miss perfect Katrina. You can say her name, Nate. “She’s great, she wants to do all the things that I want to do- but on a much larger scale.”

“Wow.” Attempting to show a slight bit of interest, Riley didn’t realise how sarcastic that she may have sounded.

“Yeah, people are swarming- but she sees me. She loves me.” Nate noticed that Riley was in a daze, as she didn’t respond to him immediately. Laying next to her, he planted an attentive kiss on her forehead. “What’s up?”

“Nothing. I just miss you.”

“Excuse me. It’s her.” Acting dumb, Riley knew exactly who was on the other line. It’s a bit late for a work business call. “It’s her, my boss…. I won’t be long, Ri…’Katrina, hey! How are you?’” Laughing during his conversation, Riley couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed like that towards her.

The problem for Katrina, Nate Cooper is married to me. Before I met him, I had been contorted into a high percentage of the positions in the Kama sutra. Shouldn’t we all? There was rich guys, poor guys, tattooed guys, the one night stand guys. Any kind of man. Do I sound like a whore?

“We’ll sit down tomorrow just you and I, to discuss it Kat. See you then, bye.” Kat? Pet names now. The old boss was known as Mr Wilson- not by first name terms.

“Told ya, Ri. She loves me.”

“Who doesn’t?” Riley replied again in a sarcastic type of way.

I bet people often wonder why I married some man who was so straight-laced as to say. Honestly, it’s because of all the past encounters- especially, Walker. My nerves were so shot by the time that I had met Nate. As I’ve said previously I was vulnerable. My heart was riding on fumes- the stability that he offered was a soothing balm. At the time, I wanted us to live for a hundred years and die at the exact same moment to avoid any pain. I hoped that our souls would find each other on the other side- if that truly exists. We could fall in love all over again….I just also want to fuck Nate’s brains out, mainly as a distraction from the impromptu night that I have just had. Is that too much to ask?

****

January 4th

Last night or rather this morning was a complete disaster… When you have the urge to fuck your partner- you need to do it there and then, right? Why is it so hard to both be in the mood at the same time once you are married with kids? The way things are at the moment, I feel I’m like a reborn virgin.

“I’m sorry, I forgot to ask. Ioana mentioned that Liam and Lindsey came over. You should have gone out.”

That supportive look that he provided, was the complete opposite of what he would have really expressed. If he knew the truth, the calmness of his voice would be a different matter. Is he a controlling husband? Maybe. Protective- yes. What he doesn’t understand, is that I need to let my hair down once in a blue moon.

“I wasn’t up to it.”

To prevent my lie from being exposed I turned my phone into ‘Do not disturb’ mode.

“Besides, you’re back now….”

I reach down, making the first move. Faking orgasms- does anyone else do this?

“It’s so good.”

“Sorry, Ri- I can’t…. I’m too tired.”

Drake would never do that. He would see to all my needs. Why am I comparing them?

“Pass me the vibrator.”

It’s been nearly two years since Nate went down on me for example. I grew an entire human being in my body in half of that time.

“For fuck sake!”

I feel like screaming, due to the frustration of not only Nate ‘dying’ on me but now B.O.B does it too.

“Fuck it.”

After a slight yawn followed by a stretch, Nate snuggled into Riley-completely oblivious to his wife’s dissatisfaction. “Night baby.”

It wasn’t always like this. As much as children are a blessing- is this the reason that explains the loss of Nate’s libido or is it truly down to his work load? The passion we had has now declined, faded into something that is now virtually non existent. This must be the definition of growing up; getting married and living the family routine with a waning passion. Now I’m starving. Internally screaming at him from inside my mind trying to make us feel - something. Love is a drug, that’s what they say- right? Adrenaline. I can get that feeling again, every time I close my eyes - going back to any one of those nights in the past- I feel it. It’s not some allusive high that I’m chasing- it is - or was, real. That was the other Riley Brooks- the true, me. A wild-child. How can a girl fuck up with every relationship? I don’t know how I manage to do it? Maybe I should have worked on my brief relationship with Liam- my now brother in law. But, that’s a different story which included a poor teenage waitress in a dive bar and Lady Liberty.

****

January 5th

For this entry, I cannot allow for it to be discovered by Nate.

Deceit- the act or practice of deceiving; concealment or distortion of the truth for the purpose of misleading; duplicity; fraud; cheating. For me, today is just not informing my husband about the full truth. It’s in my past and something that I don’t like to ponder about. I’m still living through this nightmare behind closed doors. If he was ever to ask the reasoning behind this date- I have Lindsey as ‘my excuse’. We have previously had a discussion - to get our stories straight if Nate was ever to discover the true events about this day. The fifth of January always creeps up, then it’s gone in an instant- until it reappears each year.

****

Slowly walking up the path, there was the sense of tranquility. Silent neighbours. The slight wind enabled the tree branches to sway in sync.

“Hey, Linz”

“About fucking time, Riley! I’ve been worried sick about you! Are you okay? I’ve tried ringing you-“

“I’ve had no missed-“ Riley soon remembered that she hadn’t deactivated the ‘Do Not Disurb’ mode on her phone.

“I’m fine- I just… every year, we always meet here at the same time. Where are you? Why have you put flowers down without me?”

“That’s what I’m trying to explain, I’m stuck in traffic. I’ve rang you a few times mainly about the delay but also to discuss about you leaving the other night without telling us.”

“Linz, if you didn’t put these flowers here- who did?”

“Riley-“

“Linz, I’ll ring you back.” Sensing company, Riley focused on the shadow hovering over her.

“There’s a bunch of New York’s finest flowers from, Olivia. She wasn’t sure if you wanted to see her or not as you haven’t returned any of her calls. So I offered to bring them…. It’s been too long since I’ve been here, myself.”

The callused hand gently removed the crinkly yet rusty coloured leaves that floated effortlessly in-front of them.

“The teddy is a gift from me. I hope that you don’t mind?”

Reaching out to the bear, Riley pulled it close to her chest- holding it tightly, it felt to her as if the world had just crashed. Again. The defence mechanisms that she would usually excel in, were now paper thin. Before she could have reacted, his hands gently drew her closer towards him as he knelt down to her level.

“Please…. Don’t touch me. I’m fine.”

The heat from this touch rapidly creeps into my consciousness - needing to pull away, I couldn’t. It’s like a magnet, drawing us closer- unable to separate this unexpected bond. Pulling his head back, he ran his hand through my hair before gently wiping away the tears that were now everlasting.

“You clearly aren’t fine, which is understandable. If you want me to go, I will.”

As I sink further into his torso attempting to hide my emotions, I inhale his aftershave- which has now sent me into a coma. My heart and brain have different scenarios imaged in my mind. What am I doing?

“You have a right to be here as much anyone- Drake.”

- - -

Jackson

Our sleeping angel

01/05/2014

Sweet little flower

Of heavenly birth

You were too precious

To bloom on earth

Love you always, Mommy and Daddy xxx

#choices trr #theroyalromance #riley brooks #drake walker #trr fanfic #tw mention of sex #tw swearing #tw baby loss #tw alcohol #riley x drake #trr au #olivia nevrakis #Liam Rys #tw sex #riley x liam #tw adult themes #tw adultery

24 notes · View notes

a-d-nox · 1 year

Note

7 deadly sins as asteroids

the seven deadly sins as asteroids

i'm going to work off of what i already have posted (no asteroids discussed after this post will be included or added after the fact). i would like to state that what i am about to list out does not mean to accuse you of being sinful if prominent (remember all asteroids have to land somewhere). if you don't understand my thought process feel free to comment with questions!

tw: mentions of rape.

envy: discontentment, resentment, and/or jealousy over the acheievements and blessings another possesses.

aphrodite (asteroid 1388) - jealous lover epithet.

athene (asteroid 881) / pallas (asteroid 2) - nearly every moral she has interacted with is because she was envious of what they had... from worshippers paying "too much attention" to her high priestess to a weaver who had too much talent.

eris (asteroid 136199) - started the trojan war because she wasn't invited to a wedding.

medea (212) - killed jason's new wife and children because he didn't love her anymore.

gluttony: over-indulgence or over-consumption of what can be ingested internally (i.e. food, drink, drugs, etc.).

cerberus (asteroid 1865) - ate sinners who tried to escape the underworld.

dionysus (asteroid 3671) - he's a wine god; it's part of his nature to over consume...

poe (asteroid 17427) - might have drank himself to death and definitely did a ton of drugs during his lifetime.

tantalus (asteroid 2102) - his punishment in the underworld is constant hunger and thirst.

greed: excessive love and selfish desire for external, material objects.

beowulf (asteroid 38086) - had to see the dragons loot before he died.

midas (asteroid 1981) - asked for the gift to turn what he touched to gold.

minos (asteroid 6239) - took the offering of the gods.

nessus (asteroid 7066) - tried to steal the wife of an famous hero.

psyche (asteroid 16) - had to open the underworld box because it had something inside that she was told would even make the goddess of beauty even more gorgeous, and she simply had to have it.

sisyphus (asteroid 1866) - took the gifts of his visitors before killing them.

lust: constantly seeking sexual pleasure / gratification (seen as rape, adultery, seduction, etc.).

aphrodite (asteroid 1388) - chased after men as a married woman.

apollo (asteroid 1862) - had a long list of "lovers."

asmodeus (asteroid 2174) - demon of lust.

byron (asteroid 3306) - known for his lustful behavior.

cybele (asteroid 65) - had a sex cult.

eos (asteroid 221) - cursed to have uncontrollable sexual urges.

helena (asteroid 101) - was married and ran away with a man she just met or fell in lust with her attractive captor depending on the version/translation. tried to distract her husband by undressing when she was "saved."

isolda (asteroid 211) - under the control of a "love potion." tried to be with the nephew of the man she married.

ixion (asteroid 28978) - tried to have sex with the queen of the gods had sex with clouds shaped as her instead.

nessus (asteroid 7066) - couldn't control his sexual urges and tried to rape one of his costumers.

pan (asteroid 4450) - chased after nymphs he found attractive.

paris (asteroid 3317) - was offered power, wisdom, or the hottest woman alive. opted for the woman and didn't care that she was married - "kidnapped her" anyway.

poseidon (asteroid 4341) - very sexually frustrated, involved in a few rapes.

priapus (h22) - cursed in the womb to have sexual dysfunctions. attempted to rape a virginal goddess.

tristan (asteroid 1966) - under the control of a "love potion." tried to be with his aunt.

zeus (asteroid 5731) - had a long list of "lovers" whilst married to the queen of the gods.

pride: self-devotion, excessively believing in one's own abilities. lack of humble attitude.

achilles (asteroid 588) - only weakness was his heal; he otherwise acted invulnerable.

arachne (asteroid 407) - deemed herself more talented than the goddess of crafts.

athene (asteroid 881) / pallas (asteroid 2) - feels the need to humble everyone and appears to dislike being humbled herself.

apollo (asteroid 1862) - overly competitive in many areas of life.

echo (asteroid 60) - thought she was clever enough to distract the queen of the gods.

icarus (asteroid 1566) - believed he could fly higher than he was capable of.

lucifer (asteroid1930) - believed he should reign over the heavens and not God.

medea (asteroid 212) - believed she should be the punisher of those around her.

narcissus (asteroid 37117) - thought he was too pretty to be with any of his suitors.

odysseus (asteroid 1143) / ulysess (asteroid 5254) - thought he could fake mental illness to get out of going to war.

sisyphus (asteroid 1866) - tricked the queen of the dead into letting him re-enter the world of the living; thought that, as a mortal, he was above death.

tantalus (asteroid 2102) - thought he could trick the gods into eating his son.

voltaire (asteroid 5676) - wrote a lot about pride.

zeus (asteroid 5731) - believed only he could rule over the gods.

sloth: reluctance / failure to do what one should. apathy, boredom, or indifference to a god.

aci (asteroid 6522) - didn't move out of the way of the boulder.

ajax (asteroid 1404) - thought the gods chose wrong.

arachne (asteroid 407) - thought she was better than a god.

cheshirecat (asteroid 6042) - lazes about and gives no straightforward answers.

hypnos (asteroid 14827) - nearly always asleep.

madhatter (asteroid 6735) - it's always tea time so he can avoid his execution.

odysseus (asteroid 1143) / ulysses (asteroid 5254) - tried to get out of going to war.

pholus (asteroid 5145) - did nothing to stop the bloodbath in the cave.

wrath: uncontrolled anger, rage, and hatred.

achilles (asteroid 588) - had to get revenge on the side who killed his best friend.

ajax (asteroid 1404) - tried to kill a whole council for rejecting his ideas.

circe (asteroid 34) - turned sailors into animals. made her son kill an ex-lover.

grendel (asteroid 541982) - couldn't sleep, so he murdered hundreds of people.

hannibal (asteroid 2152) - swore at a young age to kill a specific group of people.

hera (asteroid 103) - constantly sought revenge as a jealous lover in many brutal ways.

horus (asteroid 1924) - killed his mother. had a life long revenge against his uncle.

ixion (asteroid 28978) - killed his own kin.

medea (asteroid 212) - killed her brother to escape... then killed her own children... and her ex-lover's new wife.

nessus (asteroid 7066) - even on his deathbed, he lied, so he could get his revenge on the person who killed him.

sisyphus (asteroid 1866) - killed his guests.

typhon (asteroid 42355) - his rage caused seismic activity.

let me know if you are interested in the opposition - the seven heavenly virtues - by submitting it in the ask box.

like what you read? leave a tip and state what post it is for! please use my "suggest a post topic" button if you want to see a specific post or mythical asteroid next!

click here for the masterlist

want a personal reading? click here to check out my reading options and prices!

177 notes · View notes

mrswolffs-blog · 8 months

Text

Didn’t Know: Jimmy Uso x Black!Reader

TW: Mention of miscarriages, please note that I don't hate Trinity❤️

Being the ex-wife and mother to the twins of Jimmy Uso, otherwise known as Jonathan Fatu, has never been easy. Y/n and Jonathan met during their time in High School and dated until they were 22 years old when they found out that they were expecting, they got married in a courtroom per her request which made Jon's family hate her even more since they had already thought she wasn't right for him. They ended up staying married for five more years before Jonathan met Trinity through his mom and aunts, and he officially started dating in secret with his family knowing yet no one told Y/n as they wanted her to be hurt if she was to catch them. A few months went by until Y/n caught them in their matrimonial home committing adultery. That was officially the end of their marriage after it was explained that his family was the one who set them up to date and he fell in love with her.

Today is yet another birthday for the twins and so Y/n had to deal with being around her toxic ex-in-laws. The party had already started and everyone had now gathered around to watch the kids blow out their candles and cut their cakes. Once that was done, both parents stood behind their kids for a group picture that obviously no one wanted copies of and so only Y/n was given one. The party continued on as the kids and their cousins went playing, eating while others were busy petting the animals from the petting zoo. A bit of an argument was going on as Y/n sat at the table with all the other adults, yet she paid it no mind and continued to listen to the music coming from her AirPods.

The mumbling which was actually yelling continued for a few more minutes until it suddenly went quiet after someone seemed to have mentioned something horrific about her; causing Y/n to look up to find all eyes on her, the one pair sticking out the most was her ex-husband's who looked at her with tears in his eyes as he walked slowly towards her. "Get up" Jonathon calmly ordered her, as he pulled her away from the crowd and into the house upstairs into a private room. "Jon what's wrong? You're scaring me" Y/n tried finding out the problem but was met with silence as Jon sat down on the bed and began to cry. "What happened while I was in the road?" he asked finally breaking the silence. "Do you want the truth?" Y/n asked softly in which Jon nodded for her to continue.

"While you were gone, your family never helped me. I was left on my own to study, work, take care of the house and the kids. They never visited me unless it was to get something and when they did show up, they'd abuse me verbally, mentally and physically yet I said nothing as I wanted to keep the peace with your family. I struggled a lot but made it work though many of the times, I was on the verge of giving up. Then came the disappointment of having eight different miscarriages while you were away. Throughout the years of you being on the road while we were married, you'd come home and we'd get down, I managed to get pregnant eight times but ended up losing them all before I got the chance to tell you, with two of them being the result of your mom and aunts ganging me because they didn't want me to go full term. The kids knew, your mom, wife and aunts know because they found me in pain a couple of times, but no one else has ever been aware. I screamed and wailed in pain while in the hospital, begging for them to call you but they'd just hit me in the pelvic area making it worse. I didn't say anything because they threatened me not to" Y/n explained to her now ex-husband who was not only silently crying but was also infuriated as his palms were now fists.

Jonathon said nothing as he got up and made his way towards his bag on the chair in the living room, taking out a file and walking straight into the backyard towards his family. "Jadian, Jayla? Let's go." he called out to his kids before turning to his wife Trinity. "Please note that since I've given you this envelope, we are now completely divorced, due to our marriage being void from me not signing my previous divorce papers; it means that I am still married to Y/n and as for my so-called mom and aunts, don't expect to see me, my kids or y/n at any future family gatherings as what you've done is completely unforgivable and I will not tolerate such evil." he spat at them with venom before hugging his brothers and cousins, taking his kids and heading to the car to settle them in.

Jonathan then made his way back into the house, going up to the room he left his wife in to find her crying to herself. "Hey mamas whatchu crying for?" he asked as he brought her into a hug. "I just feel like I failed everyone. I couldn't keep my family together, I was only able to give birth once during my pregnancies and so I couldn't give you the big family that you desired" Y/n cried into his shirt, frustrated with herself. "Y/n I want you to listen to me, you did not fail anyone, our family was never apart cause even though I was with her my heart was and still is with you. It was my fault for listening to my family and breaking us like that, but I promise you it won't happen again. We'll leave here and go back to Tampa where I bought us a new home and we'll never see them again." he comforted her as they made their way to the car, where they drove off to their new chapter leaving all the negative behind.

#jimmy uso #jimmy uso x reader #jimmy uso fanfiction #jimmy uso imagine #jimmy uso x you #the bloodline #the bloodline x reader #the bloodline fanfic #the usos

120 notes · View notes

smolvenger · 1 year

Text

Stella of Essex or The Vicar's Wife Betrayed (A Fix-It Fanfiction of The Essex Serpent), Chapter 16: Volkamenia

Series Summary: What happens to the woman left behind? The Essex Serpent is reimagined to be told from the perspective of the sweet and sickly Stella Ransome, giving her a different ending from her canon fate. After her priest husband William cheats on her, despite devastating heartbreak, she searches for freedom, happiness...and revenge. And even new love.

Prologue//One//Two//Three//Four//Five//Six//Seven//Eight//Nine//

Ten//Eleven//Twelve//Thirteen// Fourteen//Fifteen

Chapter Summary: Stella enjoys the honeymoon and bliss of her second marriage to Harold Cavaradossi. However, her past continues to haunt and torment her.

Pairing: Stella Ransome x Male OC: Harry Cavaradossi, some Stella Ransome x William Ransome (but with the angst of his cheating actually discussed)

Chapter Warnings: Major Character Death is discussed, as Discussions of sex and masturbation, discussions of being cheated on, and of babies and children.

Chapter Word Count: 3K

A/N: This was going to be the last chapter and then I wrote over 8K words so I decided to split it in two to make it digestible!

COMMENTS AND REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED, THANKS!

The next morning, I kissed my new husband on the top of his forehead as he slept. Even his snoring I found a sound as peaceful as the patter of raindrops. I put my white nightdress back on and with a dressing gown, it was blue. I could wear my blue again. I was relieved. I went to the living room and saw some of my things were moved there in suitcases- my dresses as well as my mourning. There was an empty box with the address of a store written on a tag.

I gathered my widow’s weeds and placed them into the box. One phase of my life was now over, and a new one was beginning. I said a silent goodbye to the blacks, greys, and lavenders as I sealed the lid. I then got some paper and wrote a note on top of it.

“Dear Shop Manager, I am now remarried and do not need these anymore. Sincerely, Mrs. Stella Ransom-“

I stopped mid-writing. That was no longer my name. I had signed “Mrs. Ransome” or “Stella Ransome” for years and now a new name was in its place instead. Something I had to get very used to. I scratched it off and replaced it with my new last name, carefully making sure I spelled it right in its lengthiness.

“Sincerely Mrs. Stella Ransom Cavaradossi.”

That name was still new. I had to let it sink in that it was me. It was as if maybe that old Stella had died back there and here was a new, happy Stella in her place. Or maybe it was like a caterpillar finally released from a long time in its cocoon to be a beautiful butterfly and fly into the openness, to the sky at last.

I heard a yawn and looked behind me. Harry awoke with smugness in his grin as he stretched his arms out. The rosiness of his skin and the low cut of his white shirt, showing a bit of his beautiful chest, were evidence enough of last night’s events. The top of his curly head made his hair look yellow like a field of wheat promising a bountiful harvest, seeming more blonde than auburn or reddish at that moment.

“Good morning, Stella, my beautiful wife,” he greeted.

I smiled warmly at him, and I let those words- a phrase I had not spoken in over a year-form out of me like flowers blooming from their seeds in the ground.

“Good morning, my husband.”

We took walks, played cards, read aloud stories and poetry, ate sweets, and made love all that week. By the time it was over, he gathered my things and we took the carriage back. He helped me step out and walked me back into the little room.

“I’ll start moving the children in. I know they’re all good ones, but I hope they like me, I hope they see me as a father already…” he fretted.

“They will, Harry. Don’t worry about it- just give James some chocolate and let Joanna read her books and they won’t mind you in the least.” I advised.

He smiled. I couldn’t imagine suddenly becoming a parent of three children who were not your own. But from the shine in his eyes, I could tell he saw them already as his own blood. It would take time and figuring something out, but we would all be a family again like normal. We sat on the bed and held hands for a bit.

“I’ll about your collection of blue things. I’ll talk to your brother and may even write over to Aldwinter. I’ll insist they send it back here, my love,” Harry promised.

His gloved hand cupped my cheek and I leaned into it.

“My dear, you’re almost there. I can tell… Stay strong.” He wished.

“I’ll try to be…” I sighed.

“You always are.” He assured me. ▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬ I was in the last phase. I was eager to not only sit for my air baths but to move. I was prescribed long walks with the other patients at my level. They also instructed us in certain exercises to do outside and to be out in the sun whenever possible and then to rest in bed.

Harry visited every week, bringing the children. We all talked so much, I would hardly notice the hours passing. James’s face would be smiling as he recounted the quips that his stepfather gave him. Joanna and John would both have books in their arms that he had given to them to read on the train. They loved living with him and had already enrolled in schools in London. Harry would recount whatever play it was he saw last and then he’d kiss me on the lips before I went back to my ward.

All through summer I watched the greenery bend with the wind and the rumble of the tree. My dresses were lighter and in blue, no longer was I a widow sweltering in her black weeds. Cool breezes kissed me, and I found I could walk around the gardens and grounds longer and longer.

Finally, finally, those blessed words arrived at me. I heard them in that August of 1894.

“Mrs. Cavaradossi- your symptoms are now mild enough that you may go home…” the doctor announced with a smile through his white whiskers.

“I’m cured?” I asked, gripping the arms of my seat. The words spun in my head, making me dizzy for a second.

“There is no cure. I don’t know if there will be one so soon. I don’t think you will be back as normal or in full health as you were before. You will always be weak and cough out a little blood. You may relapse and must return. It’s very likely you will live with this for the rest of your life. But you have gained some strength and health back, and you can re-enter society, Mrs. Cavaradossi.”

He wiped his glasses and put them back on. Yet his brown eyes were focused on me.

“I say in the meantime, you still eat healthily, consider moving to the countryside, rest plenty, and exercise as much as you can,” he advised.

Smiling, blinking tears, I took his hand. I could have kissed it.

“Thank you, doctor.” .

Joyous letters and telegrams were sent out in a heartbeat. Harry said he would meet me there and help me travel back to his home in London. So many of my fellow patients congratulated me. Elvira made me promise to write to her and visit and I said I would. A few nurses cried as I put on my white kerchief over my hair, my cream-colored vest covered with flowers sewn on it, and one of my favorite old blue dresses. I wasn’t a patient in a nightgown or a widow in black. I felt like myself.

There was a knock on the door, and it was Harry in his traveling hat and jacket.

“Hello Stella, are you ready to see your home?” he asked.

“Then take me there, my love,” I answered.

I gathered what belongings I had left and he carried the bags with him. I said goodbye to each and every person I was able to. The sun was bright and the sky was full of large, white, puffy clouds as we walked out and stepped into the cab. It was a beautiful trip to watch from the window together- both the cab and then the train to London.

Once we got there, to that beautiful white and grey brick house full of windows with laced white shades and green bushes, he opened the gate for me, practically skipped to the door, and knocked a few times.

“Jojo! Jimmy! Johnny! Guess who’s here!” he announced.

The dog began to bark and there was the familiar cry of “mama!" My own children ran down the hall, the dog at their heels. I noticed John had even gathered a few blue flowers in a blue vase that he handed to me as a welcoming gift.

“Please, everyone- let me hold all of you!” I cried, overcome with happiness.

I stretched out my arms and hugged all three of them, and then me. I felt those three little heads and the softening of their limbs. Harry even embraced himself over us, so we were nothing but a circle of warmth.

Harry then took my hand.

“Here, come see our room- there’s something for you up in our room!” he encouraged.

He took me by the hand and led me there. He glanced at the other children and winked at them.

“It’s a surprise!” Joanna announced. She placed her hands over my eyes so I could no longer see as Harry led me forward. Slowly, we all walked.

“Alright…now open!” he announced.

Joanna removed her hands, and I gasped in the room.

My old blue collection in its entirety was sent over and all organized. Every pillow, pebble, and plate- even all of my journals filled with flowers, my hand mirror, and sewing threads. Even the ones left behind in Aldwinter.

“Oh, Harry, you did it! Oh, thank you!” I gasped.

“And we helped as well!” John remembered, cutting in.

“Of course!” I replied, reaching for an arm around him to kiss the top of his head.

The bed was the softest, warmest bed I had ever laid on. Far more comfortable than the hospital mattress I had to become accustomed to when I Sat there to catch my breath.

At a dinner of chicken, roast potatoes, and fresh, green salad, my children boasted of the various attractions in London that there were. Joanna especially loved the museums to see around town, John the park where he could bike around, and James of course had a fondness for all the sweet shops he could choose from. And how their new Stepfather promised to take all of them to see a play next week. All was laughter and joy.

“I shall tell you-On Saturday, who would like to join your papa to see work? Maybe one of you could become a banker when you’re old enough.” Harry suggested.

“You know I don’t want to be a banker, Papa!” Joanna refused, as she cut up her chicken with a knife and fork.

“And you don’t have to if you don’t want to, Joanna” Harry replied kindly.

“I’d like to see it, please!” John said quietly.

“Then Saturday, we’ll see it, son,” Harry replied.

We all went to church as a family. Though a shock ran through me to see a figure in familiar white robes at the main chapel again, when I looked up, it was a kindly old man with spectacles and a bald head with a shaven face. I still gripped Harry’s arm, hardly letting it go. And he let me. Though he could not recite any of the creeds or prayers to save his life and I had to speak first, his own monotone whispers right after me. ▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬ A month later, when I woke up from that soft bed, I saw that my husband was gone. When I went downstairs to see the housekeeper, she explained that there was a robbery at the bank and some families were in trouble. Harry had rushed over to see what could be done. He would be back later.

As I sat to dinner, I then received a telegram from Harry. Another disaster struck. His brother’s house caught on fire. It seemed that though their home and property were destroyed, and the family safe, the brother himself was injured and had to be rushed. He sent telegrams for three days as he managed the crises. At least I could be there to look after the children and assure them all was well. And I felt in my stomach that he was honest. He was at the bank, with his brother’s family, and at the hospital. Once it was assured that his brother and the families affected by these disasters were safe, he’d return.

But as I laid down to bed on the third night, I had another dream of my first husband. And I shall do my best to be honest, despite the indelicacies of the content of the dream. I understand that those reading this are far blunter and less embarrassed about openly discussing sexual acts than I was raised to be.

In the dream, I saw him in the water. I saw his bare back, but I knew it was him. William. He was swimming naked in the sea, the secret hobby he confided in me early in our marriage. His head emerged from the waters- the curls wet and clinging to him. He then stopped swimming and paused, wading in the water where the tides were low for his feet to touch the ground. He stood there for a while.

He was… pleasuring himself in the water. And I heard a name on his lips in between grunts of his self-pleasure. A name escaping his smooth, baritone voice. Not my name, her name. Her, her, her.

With a startle, I woke up at once. My breathing quickened. I felt clammy. All was dark, yet I felt something on the bed next to me. A weight, a presence. I checked the wallpaper- in Aldwinter, it was a light blue wallpaper with a pattern of white, rounded crosses all over it. Here, it was a creamy, white background with some plants with green stems and leaves where blue blossoms opened up all over our four walls. I wasn’t back in that small Essex town- I was in London!

I turned around and my blood was cold, and a terrified gasp came out when I saw who was lying down next to me.

It was William’s face! I’d know that beard anywhere- I saw his face and he was asleep next to me! The cheekbones, the high forehead, and the large nose. I felt panic surge through my veins. Oh God, he was back! Back from the dead! I let out a scream. The face woke up. A groggy voice started to rumble from the face.

“What, Stella-“

I slapped his face as hard as I could and leaped out of the bed, retreating to a corner. My hands fumbled around and felt for anything I could use as a shield.

“Will! Will! Why do you haunt me? Forgive me, Will! I had no other choice! Will, I’m so sorry! Haunt me no more! Leave me- we are done, Will! I don’t want you back- I’m so sorry! Please! Have mercy!” I begged.

The bearded face jumped out of bed. My eyes darted down to observe his clothes.

I dreaded seeing the dark blue sweater my first husband enjoyed wearing or the black suit and pants with the tiny speck of white at his neck, the clothes he died in. I saw neither. The bearded face wore a white nightshirt with a jaguar stitched over the breast. None of Wiliam's nightshirts had that!

“Stella, I’m not Will! It’s me! Harold! Harry!” the face spoke.

I paused and then realized…it was indeed Harry. Only in the past few days, the light scruff he had grown become a beard.

"You have quite a good hand- I might need to see a doctor!" he mused as he rubbed the reddened cheek from my attack.

“Oh, Harry…oh thank God, it’s you…I was terrified…I thought you were…you were…” I whimpered, slowly sinking to the floor.

There was a rush of footsteps and the door burst open to show Joanna.

“Mama, what’s wrong??” she cried, looking around in her nightgown with braids draping down, it whipped as her head turned around to look at the scene.

She turned to see her bearded Stepfather and froze. Her face went stark white and beneath her nightgown, her legs were shaking.

“Papa!?...Papa?! I thought you…you…”

“Everyone, I’m not William! He’s dead as a doornail! I just grew a beard, that’s all! And it scared your mother, Jo!” he appeased, his hands up.

“But…but with it, you just look like…look like…” she mumbled in awe.

She let out a huge sigh of relief. She helped me up. Then she hugged me tight, and I smoothed her head. I saw quiet tears in her eyes.

“It’s alright, we were both only scared…” I comforted.

Even Harry stepped forward to make it a hug between all of us. I felt my daughter relax.

“It’s all right. The place isn’t haunted, everything’s fine, Jojo.” He assured her.

He kissed the top of her head and she left. Once the door was closed, and there was none of my children in need of comfort, I turned to him.

“I’m so sorry…I…I was spooked…” I apologized.

“Stella, I should be the sorry one…I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It was an accident, Harry!” I insisted.

I went forward and this time leaned against him, and he embraced me, letting me cry into his chest.

“You look like him, Harry…remember? Where is that photo I have of him…here, there’s this journal.”

I went to one journal where I kept a photo of William. It was on a page with some flowers he gave to me that day when I pressed them. For our whole marriage, William had a beard. He only cut it down to scruff when we were married, but he preferred to not completely cut it off. He would say it made him feel mature, manly, official, and confident. It was a more formal photo from an earlier scene in our marriage, him in his black and white sitting on the chair and me standing up next to him. I showed it to Harry and his eyebrows shot up as he glanced between them and then checked it in the blue hand mirror.

“I see…well, shit- you’re right!” Harry cursed.

“I thought he was back. He was going to punish me. He was going to torture me again…” I confessed.

I then sat down on the chair and lowered my head, tears welling up. I then looked up. It struck me- among my things returned to this house was that safe with the letters inside.

“Their letters are here! The ones in the safe! Please promise me you won’t read what they wrote between them! It was too humiliating!” I begged.

“Alright, I won’t” he replied.

He patted my back.

“You’re safe, Stella…you’re safe, you're with me, nothing will harm you ever again…”

I continued ranting.

“Do you know what I dreamt? I dreamt he was…he was…doing…doing…you know, what men do to themselves when they’re full of lust…”

“Masturbating? It’s a word, Stella, I know what it is.”

“But not over me, for her! He was never satisfied with me. I loved him so much, but he never loved me at all! All that time, all that work, that whole bit of my life for nothing! I wasn’t good enough for him. I wasn’t as good as her. I was going to die so soon and he…he…he…” I mourned.

He held me as I cried into him again, letting it wash over.

“Here…I’ll get you some water and wine. I’ll start a fire- you can sit here and later lay back on the bed…” he said, wiping my tears with his thumb.

He got two glasses with each drink, handing them to me. He rubbed my arm and leaned his head against my neck. I gulped down the water quickly. I turned to look at him and saw a few tears in his eyes. Gentleness, lightness- love.

“Tomorrow, I’ll go to the barbers. I’ll get this shaved off.” He promised.

I began to pick up the wine, nursing it over the dryness of its flavor and how deep red it was. If it wasn’t for the light, it would have seemed black. I got into bed, cupping it around my hand as I slowly finished it. I felt the effects wash over me, relaxing my senses and mind after that great fright. Harry got into bed next to me.

“What are you thinking hard about now?” he asked.

“Harry…I’ve taken a life. A human life. The life of someone I loved and trusted. I said the confession to God after I did it but…do you think God has really forgiven me?” I asked.

“Have you forgiven yourself, Stella?” Harry questioned.

He looked at me with gentle eyes and I looked back at him. I found I could not form any words to reply.

He kissed the top of my head and pulled me to his warm, solid chest. I felt one of his hands running through my hair, like a gentle comb. I let the wine and his embrace seep me into sleep, repeating that prayer silently.

I forgive myself; I forgive myself; I forgive myself.

The next morning, when he returned, Harold was clean-shaven.

“Here, how’s that? Am I handsome, eh?” he asked.

“You’re the most handsome man in England” I agreed. ▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬ I had to visit Edith and her husband, Edgar, for the arrival of their little son. My new nephew was so tiny, but with soft rosy cheeks and filled with the scent of a clean baby on him. He had a large smile that no one, least of all his aunt, could resist.

“Oh, little Eddie’s the sweetest boy!” I said, handing him back to her.

“His father and I couldn’t be happier…I only…I only hope you can be happy again, Stella, I really do…” she wished.

“I think I will be. You won’t hope in vain…” I replied.

Though once I got home and went upstairs, there was silence. It was too quiet, even though the children were at school by now. Even as the housekeeper was bustling about. The door to Harold’s study was closed and normally, he tended to leave it open should anyone ask for him.

When I turned the unlocked door to his study, I saw my husband reading the affair letters between William and the Woman. He had the little safe placed on the desk and wide open. His eyes scrunched to study the pages closely.

3 notes · View notes

crookedkryptonitebeliever · 5 months

Note

But what if we wanna do the dirty dirty with another man, or even with yandere big bro himself, does he say "no" politely? Is he shocked? Does he go feral? Does he spiral? I want to see him spiral.

TW: reader cheatingz, mentions of incest, grooming, violence

Depending on what was agreed between the two of you, the rules on that can be very lax. Usually, people don't discuss their bedroom activities with someone in the family. Quite uncommon to hear sons describing how their girlfriends want them to moan in the bedroom, to their mothers and daughters mentioning that their boyfriends have them in a mating press to their fathers. The same goes with Yves. If you don't agree to be romantically involved, he will instantly assume a role similar to a guardian. It will feel weird telling Yves you want to have sex with another person. It will feel just like telling your parents or your siblings about it.

It doesn't mean Yves won't know about your desires. He just has no intention of ever discussing your private tendencies unless it is regarding your safety.

If you go ahead and tell him (while he isn't your boyfriend/husband), his reactions depend on your intentions. Yves will sit you down and talk about sexual safety and assure you that he will support you no matter what happens, this is if you're telling him because you're unsure, scared, or feeling forced by your partner. He will offer to talk to your partner privately, to come to a 'compromise'. Regardless of whether you accepted or rejected his help, he will have a meeting with them anyway. No way in hell is Yves letting anyone hurt his precious darling.

If your intent was to spite him or just to see what he would do, Yves will give you a spine-chilling stare before bluntly asking what your motive is. He knows. He absolutely knows. Yves just wants to see you squirm in discomfort just like how you wanted him to. He will keep grilling you until you shy away from embarrassment and apologize to him with a level of sincerity he expects.

If you're telling him nonchalantly, like this is a topic as mundane as the weather, Yves will state that this isn't a comfortable subject to him; as well as to a lot of people. He wouldn't cast judgment, Yves would set a boundary with you and explain how speaking about such matters to strangers, friends or family could be inappropriate. Parenting you, in a way.

Regardless of your aim, mentioning that you carnally desire your own older brother would get an entirely different response. You were groomed and he knows that this is a delicate situation, he cannot simply scold some sense into you, it must be a combination of compassion and self-realization on your part. Yves would choose his words, tone, and body language very carefully before asking questions with increasing levels of specificity, to try and drive you to see it from his perspective; or anybody else's lens, just not yours or your brother's. Needless to say, he will be paying a visit to your brother soon with a vial of some mysterious substance tucked in his sleeve.

The situation changes entirely if you are in a relationship together. Yves is strictly monogamous, he will make sure you understand he doesn't want you to bring up the idea of polyamory later in the relationship. But, if he predicts that you cannot keep your hands off other people and he isn't fulfilling enough for you that you have to cheat, Yves will automatically fill a platonic position in your life instead. He will be the closest to you, but he will not be your Husband, boyfriend, or even a fling. Yves will even reject your love confession if you ever happen to have one.

Yet, he is a constant presence in your life. It is undeniable how much he meddles with your marriage. Just like previous posts described, he is a true monster in law to your partner(s).

However, if you manage to bypass all his oracle-like forecasts and commit adultery with another person long after you and he agree to keep the intimate connection only between the both of you, his composure will have a fissure. He wouldn't be overly explosive, but he will absolutely traumatize you with tears running down his cheeks. Yves almost never cries genuine tears outside of his manipulative tricks, but you will see true pain leaking out of his eyes when you betray him like this. It will take a very long time until you get to have your freedom back, you will be a witness to a brutal murder after all, he can't have you running around with that loudmouth of yours. Neither will he trust you to remain celibate for him without his active intervention.

This is one of the few ways that will lead Yves to reveal his information vault to you. Expect him to be a lot more restrictive and controlling than ever, divorce or separation is not an option at all. It will be the first time Yves will force you to be in a condition without being discrete or tactful about it, he will finally put himself first.

The consequences are less severe if you merely suggest doing it. Yves will be calm and collected, crossing his legs and gracefully resting his hands on his lap. Inviting you to talk about it further, discussing your intent and disrespect towards him, he will be giving you the benefit of the doubt. So use this opportunity to either back down, present your case, or ask for help. His actions and words seem poised and peaceful, but the tears dripping down his eyelashes tell you otherwise. Maybe he isn't noticing that he's crying, too focused on pulling the cracks of his control together; He never once brought a hand up to wipe them away, blurring his vision and ruining his expensive coat.

Humans cannot control how they feel, they cannot control what they think most of the time; and Yves understands that, he was human once after all. He will help you through it if you're saying such hurtful things to him to release and eradicate unwanted degenerate thoughts. Almost everything will return back to normal once the issue is dealt with.

Yves will be colder, and more distant for a few months, yet he will be around you much more. He is still deeply ruined and would weep to himself several nights, he needs to update his database too with anything he can observe, anything he can record. Everything and anything to correct this major oversight, it affects him so much that he cannot trust you and his logic.

If it's the other possibility where you simply want to see how he will react, if it's a show you want, then a show you shall get. You will feel the pain you unnecessarily inflicted on him, you will realize that you get back what you put out in the world, and you will learn that if you play stupid games you win stupid prizes.

You will learn that Yves is not someone to be fucked with. You will soon discover that he has been nothing but a saint to you, how lucky you were to never have seen this side of him, you only saw the most merciful and considerate Yves.

Don't forget, he has an almost complete collection of what makes you cower and whimper in fear. All your traumas, even genetic from ancestors that you never met. Yves can easily utilize and expand that list by a vast number. Do not test his patience.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere male #yandere concept #tw yandere #yandere x you #yandere oc x reader #male yandere oc x reader #oc yves

41 notes · View notes

seb-reads31 · 8 months

Note

Could you write some headcannons about Vox Machina finding out their Oath of Redemption Paladin S/O used to be a Bhaal worshiper?

Tw's - SPOILERS, mentions of death, being assigned to unalived a child, betrayal, I'm going all out on this one so beware of a lot of death and unaliving people so that's just a general thing here 🧍, mentions of manipulation, a power corrupted priest, lots of unaliving words, kinda rushed at the end but I'll probably rewrite it later 😭

Type - Head canons technically but they're basically bullet pointed stories 🥲

Genre - Angst with comfort

Comments - THE FIRST VOX MACHINA ASK 💞💞 Of course nonnie 🥹 Let the research commence✨ From my research is that the S/O will be somewhat like Pike except that they will avoid actually unaliving people unless absolutely necessary, so this'll be interesting~ Let's just say that your secret was revealed while Vox Machina spoke with Osysa in season 2. Also, after realizing just how long Percy's was, I decided to split them all up-

Devil worshipper, or redemption seeker?

Pervical

- Percy has his own secrets, everyone knows this. But he shares almost everything with you because, and only because you're his partner

- And he wants you to share your secrets with him, as long as you're comfortable with sharing.

- Your darkest secret, the one you planned on taking to your grave was revealed by the Sphinx, Osysa.

- You could do nothing as she saw through you, to the deepest darkest parts of your soul when you once worshipped Bhaal and was willing to do as he said without hesitation

- She announced this to all of your friends, the people you cared deeply about and never wanted them to know about your past, but Osysa had to ruin that, didn’t she?

- Percy was still trying to wrap around was Osysa said to him before he questioned what she said to you, not fully believing what Osysa said, but knew she wasn’t lying when he saw that petrified look on your face.

- He felt betrayed, hurt, unsure of who exactly he fell in love with, who he’s shared his deepest secrets with, you were once a devil worshipper..? And a killer.?

- He didn't want to believe it, you were the kindest person in their band of misfits, the first one to try and deescalate a bar fight, the one to bandage anyone injured after said bar fight, hell you even try to negotiate with enemies even though you knew how badly it would end.

- So how could you, of all people, have worshipped Bhaal at some point in your life? He wanted to ask so many questions, but he was overcome by betrayal and slight anger that he just remained silent, the voices of his friends talking to Osysa melting together into a mind numbing buzz as he thought about the many reasons you might've kept this to yourself.

- Eventually, after entering the underwater tomb he asked to speak to you alone, and for you to come clean about your past. And you did You explained how you were once an assassin, a killer, a heartless monster who only wanted to worship a god who was corrupt, and the day you finally left that cult.

- You were told by one of the priests that Bhaal wanted an innocent child taken care of. They were supposedly a "god killing" child, and was a threat to Bhaal's life. However, that wasn't the truth at all. You were suspicious due to the target being a child, so you decided to eavesdrop on a private conversation of the priest and one of the other devout followers and learned the truth.

- The priest had committed an act of adultery and wanted the bastard child out of the picture, all because it would ruin their reputation and status. Normally, you wouldn't have cared in any other situation, you had been assigned to kill parents, grandparents, why was a bastard child no one wanted different?

- You didn't know, nor did you care, but the only thing you knew in that moment as you stood there listening to the priest laugh about the child was that all you could see was red.

- Everything was a blur after that, but when you refocused, there was blood everywhere, and so.. so many lifeless bodies around.. all you could do was fall to your knees with shakey hands, and sob.

- You stayed there sobbing on your knees for around an hour before collecting yourself, and walking out of the bloodied temple in your equally bloodied clothes. You didn't know where you were going, but you knew you wanted to get as far away from the bloodshed you caused and quickly.

- After travelling aimlessly for a few days, you came across a small and cozy home. You hadn't eaten for days, only stopping briefly to rest because it had become too hard to walk, just to wake up in a cold sweat after having a nightmare, but you reluctantly walked up to the cabin and knocked on the door softly, but hard enough for whoever was inside to hear you.

- The door opened after a small feminine voice yelled back “Be right there!” Followed by small thumps, the door opened to reveal a tabaxi. She was patterned like a snow leopard and had the kindest smile on her face as she gave you a once over, that smile turning into a look of concern. "A-are you hurt? Come inside, let me check you for any injuries." You didn't even have a chance to say anything as she grabbed your hand and pulled you inside, making you sit at what you would guess was her kitchen table.

- "I'm gonna go grab some bandages and healing ointments just in case, stay right there, I wouldn't want you to make your injuries any worse." You were.. stunned to say the least. She had taken one look at you and wanted to help, she didn't care if you were a stranger who could take advantage of her kindness, she just saw blood and felt the need to help you, even though it wasn't yours...

- She quickly came back with 3 rolls of bandages and a couple bottles of ointments, setting them down before turning towards you with a soft expression on her face. "I got the bandages and ointments, now, I need to check your for any wounds or injuries.." You knew what she was implying, but you didn't want to, and it showed with your conflicted expression.

- She thought originally that you were either uncomfortable with taking off your shirt or just embarrassed at the thought, but after thinking for a bit longer, she realized that you weren't holding any of your limbs to stop them from bleeding, nor were you hunched over in pain..

- Then the thought that this wasn't your blood crossed her mind. She took a small step back, her ears folding downwards as her tail flicks slightly. "T-this.. isn't your blood, is it..?" She asked very carefully, preparing herself to run should you try and attack her, but all she was met with was sobs coming from you.

- She immediately went to calm you down, and once you did, you told her your story. She was shocked to say the least, but she didn't judge you. You were blindly following a god, not that it excuses you for killing people. All you wanted to do was please your god, like many others have done in the past.

- Once you finished, she pulled up another chair from the dining table to sit and think, and it was just for a minute, but that minute felt like hours, all you could hear was the thumping of your heartbeat in your ears. After what felt like ages, she finally said something. "I'm sorry you went through all of this. You never deserved to be manipulated, to carry out the wishes for a supposed god, only to be carrying out the sins of a corrupted priest."

- She took a deep breath after her small rant, then continued. "I know how to help you with your guilt, and how to relieve you if your sins, but it is a long and harsh path. I would know, I've taken it myself." She gave you that same soft smile from before, with eyes that understood the guilt you burdened yourself with. You gave her a questioning look, silently asking her to continue, and so she did.

- "It's called the path of redemption, it is a very harsh like I said before, but well worth it in the end. So, what say you? Do you wish to accept my help?" She held a hand out to you, one so inviting and kind that it would almost be cruel to refuse. So you took it, wanting to feel your sins lifted off of your back.

- After you took her hand, she gave you a delicious meal and bed, as well as a change of clean clothes for when you finished. "Tomorrow, we will start your training." You spent the next few years learning to forgive yourself, to learn how to help convince people to change their ways and join you on this path of redemption through words and not violence. Only engaging when absolutely necessary, and even then you were only to subdue them or restrain them.

- You looked up at the sky as you finished your story, not daring to look at Percy out of fear that you'll see a look of anger, rage, disgust. But he wasn't looking at you with disgust, rage, anger. He was looking at you with a look of sadness, understanding, and compassion.

- Sadness because he hated how you were nearly manipulated into dispatching a god killing child, understanding because he knows how it is to be manipulated, and compassion because he knew you had gone through so much in less than 24 hours and even tried changing yourself for the better, and even succeeded at it. Others would've cracked under the pressure of the training you went under and never would've redeemed themselves.

- Neither of you spoke, the only sounds that could be heard were the sounds of the forest and your group of friends laughing and bantering by a crackling fire. You could feel your anxiety rise as you looked up at the dark sky, your mind racing as Percy just sat there in an uncomfortable silence.

- You were snapped out of your thoughts when Percy pulled you into a side hug, placing a hand on your head to lay it on his shoulder then started to lightly his fingers through your hair. You teared up slightly from the affection, not expecting it in the slightest after you had told Percy about the deepest darkest parts of your life.

- He knew you were a killer in the past, but he also knew that you had changed immensely since then. He didn't hate you for keeping this from him, the furthest thing from that. He understood why you kept it a secret, and promised that he wouldn't reveal your past to the rest of your friends until you were ready to.

- Eventually, the both of you returned to your group of friends who were bantering with one another. It was comforting, hearing them bickering amongst themselves.

- One day you'll tell them, and whether they choose to continue being your friend is up to them. But, you have a feeling that they won't care too much and will continue being your friends no matter what.

#vox machina x reader #vox machina #vox machina x male reader #vox machina x female reader #vox Machina x gn reader #vox machina Percival #head canon #reader insert

33 notes · View notes