#his last words being 'i love you brother'... i go INSANE. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mountainsandmayhem · 3 months

Text

BDSMaid - Chapter 2

Masterlist || AO3

Pairing: Millionaire Joel Miller x Female Reader Series Summary: After recently graduating from university, your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. It’s only temporary and a good way to save money for when you go back to get your law degree. That’s what you’re promised at least. Easy. Simple. Mundane. That is, until one of your clients is home and everything that you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love. Chapter Summary: Try as he might, Joel just can’t shake the memory of you. Try as you might, you can’t stop thinking of the woman tied to his desk. CW: The slow burn is burning. Mentions of death and underage drinking. Topless in public, this is a love story about BDSM after all. Reader does have some physical descriptions, so maybe more of an OFC, or just pretend you have pouty lips and a slightly upturned nose. Double POV (reader and Joel). AN: Thank you SO FUCKING MUCH for all the love on chapter one of this story. I literally cannot believe it surpasses 1000 notes in just a month, you're all insane and I love you. Dividers by @saradika-graphics. Biiiig shout outs to the bb's who have been so supportive of me spiralling and panicking this last month over the next chapter. I'd be in a deep dark cave without you @mermaidgirl30 @littlevenicebitch69 @lotusbxtch @evolnoomym @joelmillerisapunk and @milla-frenchy . Thank you! I feel like I'm giving some sort of Oscars speech and if you're still reading this, you're the real MVP. XO Word Count: 8.5k

~ Joel - 27 Years Ago ~

Joel’s stands in the garage of someone he barely knows, surrounded by drunk and rowdy classmates from his high school. He’s a senior, graduating in just a few weeks and moments like this are one of the perks of being the star designated hitter and first baseman, everyone wants you at their party. Someone hands him a warm, flat beer that was pumped poorly from a keg as they pat his back roughly in congratulations. Joel’s not sure how a bunch of seventeen year olds managed to get a keg, most likely an older brother, but he drinks the shitty beer all the same. Speaking of brothers, he hasn’t seen Tommy in a while. He’s only fifteen and he promised their mom he’d keep an eye on him. The younger Miller shouldn’t be at a seniors party, but that's where those perks come in again, because if Joel was good, Tommy was better. In fact, he was so much better that he’s played up a whole age group his entire life, always right beside Joel. Tommy was the back catcher, and tonight he got the eleventh inning game winning out at home for them to win the state championship.

He finds Tommy chatting with a group of girls, all of whom are incredibly beautiful. They’re going to be very disappointed when they find out how much younger he is than them. Joel smiles into his red solo cup as he takes a sip of stale beer. He tucks his free hand into the pocket of his light blue wranglers and walks over to the wall of the garage. He leans back and crosses one cowboy booted foot over the other. The brim of his cowboy hat grazes the unpainted drywall behind him. Texas, and the country, in the late nineties was where everyone wanted to be, and Joel Miller could have been the poster boys for teenage country boys in 1997.

Brooks & Dunn plays on someone's CD player in the corner, laughter and people talking overlaps until it’s just noise to Joel. He stands back, watching his younger brother effortlessly charm the five pretty girls around him. All of them in tight blue jeans, lacy white tops, denim vests and cowboy boots. He grabs one by the hand and Joel overhears, “I’ll teach ya how to two step, shame to not know in a place like this.” Then the motherfucker winks at her like he’s some sort of cowboy Casanova. Joel lets out a silent laugh through his nose and sips the beer again shaking his head.

Just as Tommy pulls the pretty little blonde over towards the unmarked and unofficial dance floor in the corner of the garage the song changes. Slow guitar, followed by the unmistakable twang of Tim Magraw’s voice. Joel didn’t know it then, but that song would change the course of his life and intertwine itself in the very fabric of his being.

‘Dancin’ in the dark, Middle of the night’

That’s when he sees her, tall and slender, deep olive toned skin and pale green eyes. Her dark curly hair cascades over one of her shoulders. She’s laughing with another classmate, and even though he can’t hear the sound of it over the noise of the party, he can tell it’s a light and melodic sound, and he wants to spend the rest of his life drawing that out of her.

‘Takin’ your heart, An holdin’ it tight’

He puts his warm beer on the work bench beside him and takes off his black felt Stetson, placing it over his broad chest, hoping the comfort of his favourite hat would slow the rate at which his heart is beating.

‘Emotional touch, Touchin’ my skin, And askin’ you to do, What you’ve been doin’ all over again’

She looks over at him, smiling shyly, and before he knows what he’s doing he’s walking over to her. His legs move on their own accord, knees shaking as he approaches the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen.

‘Oh, it’s a beautiful thing, Don’t think I can keep it all in, I just gotta let you know, What is that won’t let me go’

Everything in the room fades as she fully comes into view. Beautiful doesn’t even begin to describe the girl in front of him. She radiates a warmth that he’s only ever known his mother to radiate. It’s the first time he’s ever seen this girl, but she feels like home. This is it, that one thing that everyone says you’re supposed to feel. The thing his grandpa told him when he was younger, “Son, you’ll just know. It sounds ridiculous, but when I saw your grandma it was like a pull behind my belly button. I just knew, and I’ve known everyday since then.”

“Howdy, ma’am,” Joel says, tipping his hat to her before placing it back on his head.

She giggles, confirming his earlier thoughts. It really is the sweetest fucking sound he’s ever heard. “Hi.”

He holds out a hand to her and she takes it, her skin is so warm and smooth. In that moment he knows that hers will be the last hand he ever holds. Fire flushes through his veins as he continues, “I’m Joel, what’s your name?”

“Oh, I know who you are Joel Miller,” she flirts, not letting go of his hand. “I’m Tiffany.”

“Tiffany,” he repeats, his voice going deeper as he says it. It’s egotistical but he loves the way girls shiver just a little when he lowers his register. “And how is it that you know who I am?”

She slides her hand from his and reaches up to grab his cowboy hat, plopping it onto her head. “Star first baseman and designated hitter, everyone knows Joel Miller. Look around, look at all these girls lookin’ at you, cowboy.”

For the first time in his life Joel finds himself blushing, but he doesn’t take his eyes off Tiffany.

“I only see one girl.” She rolls her eyes and swats at his bicep at the cheesy line, but that was it for both of them. From that point they were inseparable.

They both turned eighteen a few months later, and just ten months, and a thirty two hour labour after Tiff turned eighteen, a tiny little Sarah came into the world all pink and screaming. Joel hears that song again as he watches Tiffany hold that little bundle of blankets, ‘Better than I was, More than I am, And all of this happened, By taking your hand.’

They get married when Sarah is just a few months old. Both his beautiful curly haired girls in white dresses, Tiffany grabbing that same black Stetson off his head during their first dance. He holds them both, swaying from side to side, a hot tear rolling down his cheek at how goddamn happy he is. ‘And who I am now, Is who I wanted to be, And now that we’re together, I’m stronger than ever, I’m happy and free’.

Things for their little family of three are perfect. They buy the house with the white picket fence and the wrap around porch. Joel gets a job working construction and enjoys a nightcap with his beautiful young wife on their front porch every night. They make love often, slow and sweaty, Joel worshiping her soft copper toned skin inch by glorious inch. Tiffany wraps every minute of her day around Sarah and being a sweet, devoted housewife. Nothing seems to stand in their way. Until the diagnosis shortly before Sarah starts Kindergarten.

Tiffany is too young, they’re all too young. This isn’t something that happens to people their age, they haven’t had enough time. Joel spends the next few months in a haze, it has to be a bad dream. The appointments, the treatments, the call to 911 when the illness starts to win. This isn’t how it was supposed to go.

He holds Tiffany until the very end. Sponging a soft kiss to her forehead, whispering his goodbyes as they shut off the machines keeping her here. “You’ve been so strong, my love. You fought so hard. I know you’re scared to go, I’m scared too, but we’ll do it like we do everything else. Together. I’ll be ok, Sarah will be ok. Just rest now. I love you.”

As she takes her last shaky and shallow breath, a sound will live with him until he takes a breath that matches hers, that song echoes through his hollow chest. ‘It’s your love, It does something to me, It sends a shock right through me, I can’t get enough’.

You - Present Day

You roll to a stop outside Mister Miller’s house for your second day of cleaning. As you look towards the impressive house your pussy flutters at the memories of yesterday - the almost pornographic noises that were made in that office, his soft and kind eyes as he apologized profusely in the kitchen. You were supposed to go to a study group last night, but instead you got lost in a rabbit hole of porn where women are tied up and fingered. You got yourself off four times thinking about a man you’re not even supposed to know, wishing it was his thick fingers hitting that spot inside of you that you can’t reach on your own. You felt guilty about it last night and now being back in his home you have that same sinking feeling again.

Stupid. Sacrificing my future for a fantasy. Never again.

You let yourself in the house and look at the list in your cleaning app. You pop in your AirPods and start listening to your favourite true crime podcast; thankful for the new episode, a gruesome distraction as you scrub baseboards and lightswitches. The episode ends and in an attempt to not let your mind wander to the gorgeous man that lives here, and the depraved new things you’ve discovered about yourself, you start an educational audiobook about civil rights law. You might want Joel Miller to strap you down and whisper filth in your ears, but you are a good person, and your aspiration in life is to help people who face discrimination on a daily basis.

You breeze around his home, checking off each task and before you know it it’s almost one in the afternoon. You have almost your whole list complete, his soft sheets are in the dryer (and yes, you are incredibly proud of yourself for only putting the luxurious white fabric to your face twice on the way to the washer). You only have the patio furniture to spray down and the kitchen counters to wipe. That’s when your stomach growls, almost as if to remind you that it’s the perfect time to take a break while the dryer finishes. You haul all your stuff out to your car and lock up, sitting in your front seat as you take out your lunch container.

An engine revs in the distance and your heart skips in your chest. Before you even have time to wonder if it’s Joel’s car, one of the black garage doors slides open and Joel’s obsidian coloured Aston Martin rolls by you, stopping with precision on the shiny cement floor of the garage. You avert your eyes, focused on your container of chicken noodle soup. The left side of your face feels the warmth of his gaze fixed on you. Without looking over you can tell he is studying you and it takes everything you have to keep your eyes on your measly lunch.

The afternoon sun is blocked as Joel raps his knuckles on your window. You glance over at him, looking up through your lashes. He’s looking at you intensely but you can’t quite place his expression. As always, his deep brown eyes are locked on yours, he could either be happy to see you or incredibly disappointed in you. But one thing is for sure, he’s calculating your every need with those warm and inviting eyes. He knocks again so you crank the handle to roll your window down a crack.

He raises one eyebrow at you, both hands rest on the roof of your SUV as he leans forward to speak to you through the small opening in the window. “Seriously?” His voice is laced with sarcasm.

“What?” You say, “Can’t be too safe.”

He blinks at you before continuing, “What'd ya doin’ out here?”

You lift your tupperware container a little, willing the tingles between your thighs to stop, “Eating my lunch.”

He rolls his eyes, running his hand along his greying scruff. “You’re eatin’ lukewarm soup in your car in the middle of February.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement, but his voice is warm and curious, and you start to realize that the look on his face isn’t happiness or disappointment, but concern.

You nod, “Yes.” His eyes dance around your face and you swear your heart is beating as fast as a hummingbird’s wings. Fluttering so fast that it’s traveling up your throat and you wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear it.

“Get out of the car. Come warm that up and eat inside.” His voice is thick with concern, entire face soft as he looks at you.

You swallow your heart back down to where it belongs, “I’m not allowed to do that, Mister Miller.”

His cheeks redden a little and some of the softness in him disappears, “Don’t call me that, it’s jus’ Joel to you.”

“I’m not even supposed to know your name, Mister Miller. I can’t call you by your first name.”

He shifts his weight onto one foot and points a thick finger at you through your window, “Don’t. Either you call me Joel or nothin’ at all. Come inside,” he drops his pointer finger to the door handle. He pulls on it to find it locked. “Seriously?”

“I told you, I can’t be too safe!” You can help but think how cute he looks all flustered - shaking his head at you for being cautious in a neighborhood where you could probably scream your credit card number and no one would use it. If anything, the wealthy homeowners on this street might transfer you money when they see the state of your vehicle.

“You’re eatin’ inside.” He says flatly.

“I told you, I can’t. We aren’t allowed to do that. You’re a client, Mist - I mean. Sorry, I just can’t. We aren’t allowed.” You glance towards the clock on your dash. At this rate your break is going to be over before you finish eating.

He jiggles the door handle again, as if he can convince the metal to bend and unlatch itself with just his sexiness alone. “You like rules, don’t ya?”

He’s got you there, you do enjoy following the rules. You nod and hum a noise in agreement.

“Unlock the door, please,” his voice has changed, he’s being more commanding now. A deeper, huskier sound leaving his lips. The sound seems to latch onto something deep in your mind, strong fingers wrapping around the control center of your brain, guiding you to do his bidding. You blink the feeling away.

“Mister-,” his eyes flash with darkness, “Sorry. I can’t. It wouldn’t be right to eat in your house, plus my break is almost over.”

Joel releases your door handle, raising his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose and lets out a breath, as he drops his hand back to the top of your vehicle an amused smirk flashes across his face. “Do you consider yourself to work in customer service?”

“Yes,” you say nervously.

“And isn’t the main rule of customer service that the customer is always right?” His lips form a tight line and a deep dimple carves into one of his tanned cheeks. Your brain flashes back to one of the videos you watched last night, a man sucking on a woman's nipples as he rubbed her clit, her arms and legs strapped to a padded table. He had a dimple, but he had nothing on Joel.

“Yes,” you croak and then clear your throat gently, shifting in your seat at the fire building behind that bundle of nerves between your thighs.

“Then unlock the door, darlin’ and eat inside.” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, turning and walking towards the house. He stops on the front step, opening the large glass front door. You follow, flip flops slapping on the concrete, carrying your powdered chicken noodle soup and plastic spoon up towards his fancy home. When you reach the threshold, he holds out his large hand palm up and you place the old, stained tupperware with your half eaten soup into it. He looks down at it and then back at you, eyes trailing along your body and it feels like he’s running a torch over you. “Is this all you have to eat?”

You nod, giving him a tight lipped smile.

He cocks his head towards the kitchen and one pushed back curl that’s laced with a few greys falls into his eyes with the movement. In order to stop from pushing his loose curl back you squeeze your fists gently and head towards the stool you sat on yesterday. As your flip flop hits the tile you stop and look back towards your car nervously. “I, umm, I forgot my shoes.”

His large, warm palm comes to your lower back and he pushes you gently towards the kitchen. You sit as he transfers your soup into a matte black bowl and places it in the microwave. He opens a cupboard and pulls out a loaf of fresh bread, as you go to protest he flicks his eyes up to yours and something about the expression on his face tells you not to argue with him. He pops the two carefully cut pieces into the toaster. He breezes effortlessly around the kitchen for someone so broad and masculine. You didn’t realize someone making toast could be so sexy. The microwave beeps and he grabs a gold spoon from a drawer before wandering around the island, placing them both in front of you. His arm brushes yours as he pulls away and your heart flutters at his touch. He walks back around the kitchen island and grabs a glass.

“Still or sparkling?” He says as if that’s just a normal question to ask when you get someone a glass of water. Just another thing that proves you don’t belong here. The toaster pops and you jump a little. He chuckles as he grabs the toast, slathering it with butter. “Still or sparkling, darlin’?”

You breath hitches, he’s called you darlin’ twice now. Is that just that southern charm you hear about so often, or is it more? You shake the thought from your head, there’s no way someone like him is interested in someone like you. “Still is fine, you don’t have to trouble yourself.”

You take a spoonful of soup, blowing on it gently before putting the spoon in your mouth. Joel is watching you in the same way he was yesterday. Assessing. Observing. Calculating. It feels like he’s looking into your very soul. He slides the plate of toast and then a glass of sparkling water over to you from across the island.

“Thank you,” you say quietly. “You didn’t -”

He holds his hand up, stopping you in the same way he did yesterday. “I wanted to.”

You feel your cheeks redden and you have to look away as you take a bite of toast. He’s too handsome standing in the kitchen with the afternoon sun highlighting his features. He’s wearing a black dress shirt today, the top few buttons undone, accentuating the perfectly groomed salt and pepper hair on his chest. You swallow your bite of warm, salty, buttery toast, allowing your eyes to flutter closed at the delectable flavour, holding back a moan.

Joel clears his throat and crosses his arms across his broad chest, “So how did ya get into cleanin’ houses?”

You look up at him through your lashes. Why is he being so nice to you and taking care of you? He apologized yesterday. And after you told him it was fine he left you a massive tip. He said he wants to do this, but why? He’s rich and handsome and you can probably safely assume that that icy blonde from yesterday was his girlfriend. Unless…could she possibly be a mistress? You decide that that must be it. She’s his mistress. He has a wife. He’s just like every other rich man, cheating on his beautiful and age appropriate wife with someone much much younger than him. He’s probably terrified that you might find out who his wife is and tell her. That tip was hush money.

“I’m saving money,” you say and then shake your head, willing the thoughts in your mind to calm down. “For law school.”

“That right?” He says, raising an eyebrow at you as you take another spoonful of soup.

“Yes, I want to be a lawyer. I graduated a semester early and needed some money before going back to university. Assuming I even get accepted. This job meant I could work part time so I could study to take the LSAT again and also make good money.” You take another bite of the toast, mainly to make yourself shut up.

He watches you the entire time, nodding along, his eyes constantly assessing. “Take the LSAT again?” he asks.

“I passed it already and applied to schools but I haven’t heard back yet. Law school is pretty competitive, so I’m going to take it again and hopefully have a better mark for the next round of college applications.” You’re talking too much, you need to shut up and just eat, but Joel doesn’t flinch, doesn’t look away. No one has ever listened to you like that, not even your parents.

“Next round?” He asks curiously.

You feel your cheeks redden. You don’t want to admit to this obviously successful man in front of you that you probably won’t get accepted to any of the eight universities you applied to. “Yes. It’s competitive, and I probably won’t get in. So I’m preparing to be better the second time.”

“Where did you apply? If that’s not too forward of a question.”

“No, not too forward. Umm, a few places. Strength in numbers, I guess. Harvard, Yale, Columbia, Berkeley, Duke, University of Toronto, but I don’t think I’d survive a Canadian winter. I also applied at Notre Dame and University of Texas here in Austin.”

Joel laughs at you mentioning the Canadian winter and once you’re quiet, he looks down at his expensive dress shoes, “I, umm, I know some higher ups at UT Austin if you need me to put in a good word.”

You smile at him when he looks back up at you, “I don’t think that’s quite how it works, Joel. But thank you.”

The two of you are silent for a moment while you finish your first piece of toast. You glance up at him and he’s looking at you with that same hint of pride he had yesterday while you drank your water. He’s making you feel like eating toast is something to be proud of. You can’t explain it but his facial expression wraps around like a corset. Pulling its metaphoric laces and making you sit up taller, holding your head up higher. With just the shimmer in his deep brown eyes you feel like you could take on the world. You need to break the silence so you say, “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” he says, leaning back to rest on the countertop behind him. His arms uncross, his strong hands wrapping around the countertop on each side of his body.

“What do you do for a living? To have all this?” You gesture around the house as you sip your sparkling water.

“A few things. I used to own a construction company, sold it a few years ago to retire but I got bored pretty quickly. Now I own a few properties, I rent them out.” You nod as you listen to him, eating your lunch. One hand rubs at his patchy, salt and pepper beard nervously before saying, “I also own a club.”

You let out a little giggle into your water glass, immediately praying that he doesn’t think that was you being rude. Of all the professions that could have come out of his mouth, owning a nightclub was the last thing you expected. Joel smiles at the sweet melodic sound leaving your lips and relief washes over you. “Why’s that so funny?” His voice is light at his inquiry.

“It’s not,” you say after swallowing your water. He furrows his brows at you. “You just - I mean, I guess I don’t know you, but don’t seem like the nightclub type.”

“You’re right, you don’t know me. But you’re also right that I am not a nightclub type,” he states. Something about the way he says it makes you sense that that’s as far as you’re going to get with it, but you also realize that the club is probably how this man meets young women to bring home.

You put your spoon down and place your hands in your lap. “Can I umm, ask you something else?”

“Of course,” he repeats.

“What’s with that little dinosaur toy on your coffee maker?”

He smiles and reaches over to grab it, rubbing his thumb along the faded and scuffed brown paint of the little toy. He looks down at it and a hint of sadness seems to fill his coffee and amber eyes as he looks at you. “My daughter, she umm, she got it for me from the prize box in Kindergarten after her mom -” he stops mid sentence, sadness lining his features. Joel’s not married, you roll your eyes at yourself internally for thinking the worst of him. And truthfully, you of all people know he’s not married. You clean his house, you’ve been in his bedroom, and there are no women's clothes. You’ve also been in all the spare bedrooms and there’s no chance another person lives here with him. He continues, choosing his words almost carefully, “Well, just after she was gone.”

“I’m sorry, Mister,” his eyes flash onyx for just a second, he looks lethally sexy and you swallow your words before starting again. “I’m sorry, Joel.”

“It was a long time ago,” he says, placing the dinosaur back. He runs his fingers through his salt and pepper curls, letting out a little sigh. There’s a shift in him, like suddenly the world is heavier. He tries not to let it show, and maybe most people wouldn’t notice, but you see it. The slight fall in his face, a little slump in the shoulders, a breath held for just a second too long. He clears his throat gently and says, “I’ll be in my office. Eat your lunch for me, please.”

Joel

Joel closes the door of his office and rests his forehead against the smooth wooden surface. He can’t remember how much he spent on these doors when he built the house, but he would set any door that separated him from you on fire if he had to.

Get it together, Joel.

He closes his eyes and only sees you. The way your glossy, pink lips formed a little O as you blew on your soup. The way the gold plated metal spoon slid softly along your tongue. His cock twitches in his pants and he feels the urge to throw all the spoons in his house away.

Great, you’re jealous of a spoon.

He shouldn’t be home. He signed a contract, and more importantly, you signed a contract. In order to protect him and you there is to be no contact between the cleaner and the client. That’s what you consented to when you took your job at Maid Discreetly, and now he’s caused you to break that contract not once, but twice. But he cannot seem to get you out of his mind, and as he sat in a meeting at his club he couldn’t focus. You were here, cleaning his home in that form fitting white polo shirt and those black pants that hugged at your hips in all the right places, and he just had to know if you were as beautiful as he remembered. Just a quick peek, he convinced himself as he made up some bullshit excuse to leave.

When he saw you sitting in your rusty SUV you looked so innocent and pure, you were more than beautiful. The afternoon sun lighting up your high cheekbones and slender, slightly upturned nose, it gave you an almost angelic glow that temporarily took his breath away. If he had to describe you in two words he would say that you were simply ravishing. For the first time in almost thirty years he wished he still had the calming comfort of that black felt cowboy hat. But that soft Stetson went with her because she loved it so much.

As he caught his breath and looked at you from his garage, he was overcome with an urge to bruise and corrupt you. He’s a bad man for the thoughts he's been having about you. He can’t help himself, but even in his most twisted of fantasies, he’d never do anything you didn’t want him to. But, fuck, he’s sure he could mold you into exactly what he wants in a submissive.

Joel isn’t new to the world of kink; he’s had many subs, all of whom have referred to him as Mister Miller. However, his name has never sounded so fucking sweet as it did coming off your lips. Those two little words leaving your pouty, pink lips feel like that first sip of whiskey after a long day, and it might kill him if he doesn’t make you his.

He sighs into the white wood of the door before standing and walking to sit behind his desk. He drops into the soft leather chair and lets his head fall back onto the headrest and closes his eyes. What is it about you? Why can’t he stop thinking about you? You’re way too young. Way too sweet. Way too…sinless. And even though he can’t explain it, and he knows you don’t know it, you’re way too “exactly-what-is-going-to-ruin-his-entire-life”.

You’re not someone he can just play with. No, he’s good at reading people, and you’re the kind of person that deserves being invested into. You’re also not someone who is going to stick around. You have dreams and well laid out plans on how you’re going to achieve them. He can’t cage you in, he’ll have to let you spread your wings and fly no matter how much he sees himself as the man he used to be reflected back in your eyes.

He opens his eyes and pictures you kneeling in the corner, perfectly manicured hands that he pays for you to have done weekly folded on your lap as he works. He imagines calling you over with a curl of his fingers, you crawling across the plush carpet and resting your head on his lap as he responds to emails, takes calls, or plans events. He could reach down and run his fingers through your soft, silky hair as you nuzzled deeper into his lap with your cheek. “My perfect, sweet girl,” he’d hum.

His body falls forward, forehead hitting the sturdy wooden desk with a thump. Jesus Christ, Joel.

It was one thing when he only found you beautiful - he could live with being attracted to you, he could find a way around it or stuff that attraction down, maybe he’d find a new sub to distract himself with. That would be easy for him, but then you had to open your mouth, you had to speak so passionately about your future. Why couldn’t you just be pretty like all the other women he plays with? You might be one of the most driven people he knows: the way you push yourself, already planning for the next “no”. And that kills him, ruins him really that you are programmed to think there will automatically be a “no” and that you’ll have to endure another round of LSAT’s and college applications. You’re smart, and he wants to kill whoever made you feel like you need to push yourself this hard.

His phone vibrates in his pocket; annoyance courses through his body until he sees his brother's name across the pristine screen of his newest iPhone Max.

“Ya?” He says harshly.

“Everything ok with the alarm?”

Joel’s mind goes blank, “What?”

Tommy is silent for a second before he responds slowly, “The alarm? You left in the middle of a meeting because of an alarm.”

Joel shakes his head. Right, the alarm. The bullshit excuse he made up so he could leave to see you. “Ya, right. Ya, it’s fine. Got it all, umm, all fixed up. Should be back soon.”

“You ok, brother?” Tommy asks suspiciously. “You seemed, I dunno, distracted today.”

“I’m fine,” Joel snaps.

“Alright. Well, come back soon, pretty big night here and we need ya.”

Joel hangs up without saying goodbye. He’s the owner, he knows it’s a big night, but he’s sort of busy having an existential crisis over possibly being in love with his house cleaner. Whoa, in love? Pump the fucking brakes. Joel’s heart stops beating for a second at the thought of it. He can’t possibly be in love; he doesn’t fall in love. No, he decides, it’s just because she’s new, and exactly my type, and it’s been a long time since I found someone that’s my type.

Just as he stands from his desk, he hears the hose outside turn on. You must be at the pool furniture part of your list. He takes this moment to sneak out of his own house, because he’s a weak man when it comes to you, apparently. He slips into the Italian leather front seat and lets the new car smell waft over him; he loves the smells of a new sports car and has never owned one long enough for it to stop smelling that way. It’s a matter of status to him. He takes a good hard look at himself in the rear view mirror. That’s enough now. For both of your sakes. Leave her alone.

You

After spraying down the pool furniture you rush inside to warm up. Seriously, who needs their pool stuff cleaned in the fucking winter? As you jog up the stairs to grab Joel’s freshly laundered sheets, you blow into your cupped palms. The warmth spreads from your frozen fingertips to your palms. Joel’s office is empty; he must have left while you were outside. Your brain swirls with unanswered questions as you pull the fitted sheet back onto his king size bed. Why would he come home? First of all, he knows you’re here this time and second of all, he knows he’s not supposed to be here. So why? And then there’s his calculating stare, always watching and usually with a flash of pride in his features. Did he come back here just to talk to you? Maybe even to get to know you?

It’s safe to say that you’re more confused than ever, and you make a mental schedule of studying and reading to keep you busy later tonight so you won’t spend hours trying to google him again.

It takes way too much effort, and a silent promise to yourself to get back to the gym, but you manage to wrestle the oversized duvet back into its cover just as three o’clock rolls around. You jog down the wide, open staircase and your phone bings in your back pocket. Jamie’s name is splayed across your cracked screen, the sunset from your last trip to California shining back at you.

What are you doing tonight? Want to make a bunch of money serving drinks topless?

You laugh to yourself. Truthfully, nothing Jamie asks you seems to surprise you, and some sort of odd job where you’re topless or in a sexy outfit is practically a guarantee as a condition of your friendship. As you reach for the black envelope on the kitchen island you text back.

What?

You barely have the thick parchment of the envelope open when she responds, like she already had the text locked and loaded and was just waiting for you to try to fight her on it.

Remember Laren? My cousin? She has a topless catering company and needs help tonight. It’s at some exclusive VIP poker game downtown. 4 hours, $300 + tips.

You respond as a thousand dollars falls out of the tip envelope.

I’m in.

Jamie picks you up a few hours later and parks her blacked out Range Rover in the alleyway behind a shiny black building in the heart of downtown. You’re once again surrounded by wealth and success thanks to Jamie. The dress code tonight is a black pencil skirt, black heels, your tits, and a bow tie that Laren will give you. Speaking of whom, Laren is holding open a staff door for you and Jamie with her hip, waving the two of you into the warmth of the building. She pulls you both into a big hug, “Thank fuck! You two saved my ass tonight. Gotta love having friends and family with great tits!”

“You’re so weird,” Jamie says, brushing past her and into the building. You follow her in before Laren ushers you towards a service elevator.

“They’ve already started, you’re part of the second shift. I think the first set of girls made about four hundred each in tips, helps if you serve the guys that are winning though. The first round of games is almost over, winners move on soon.”

“How were their tits though? As great as ours?” You joke. Underneath the calm and collected mask you’re wearing you are definitely nervous. All these strange men are going to see you half naked, you know nothing about poker or serving drinks. Your two friends laugh as the elevator opens to a small changing room. Girls from the first shift are putting their tops back on, handing the bow ties back to Laren who gives them to you and Jamie.

She cocks her head towards a swinging door, “Just through there when you’re done. Go to the bartender for a tray and table assignment. Two girls per table and only six seats so it should be pretty easy. Make sure you smile!”

“Yes, ma’am,” you and Jamie say teasingly as you strip off your tops and bras. She flips you the middle finger as she heads back out to the poker game to supervise. The cool air of the room stiffens your nipples, nerves fluttering behind your navel as you put the bow tie on.

You overhear the girls that are leaving talking about the men, “Did you see the one with the curly hair at the table by the bar?”, one says.

The other responds, “He was so fucking hot. Total daddy, I think he owns this place.”

A third pipes up with, “Fuck, I should have flirted more. I could use a sugar daddy.”

As they walk towards the elevator the first girl says, “Did you know that this is a sex club? Too bad we can’t go explore the rest.” They giggle as they leave and you take a steadying breath. You’re going to be topless, in a sex club.

“Ready?” Jamie asks, adjusting her bowtie around her slender neck.

“Did you know this is a sex club?”

She laughs, “Ya, it’s like an exclusive kink club apparently. Laren said it’s owned by two brothers who are insanely hot. Maybe I should see if they need a maid.” She winks at you as you both walk towards the swinging door.

You step into the dimly lit room and find the bar directly across from you. After rolling your shoulders back and down, you cross the dark hardwood floor to the bar. Everything in the room is black or deep forest green. Black paint covers the walls, your heels click against the sturdy black wooden floors, even the poker tables and chairs are black. A pop of deep green velvet only along the seats and table tops. It looks soft, like one of those fuzzy blankets you have on your couch and you fight the urge to run your hand across one of the empty tables as you pass.

The bartender hands Jamie a tray first and then quietly tells her to go to the table in the far right corner. She sways her hips like the sultry goddess she is as she walks to the table. Relief floods through you when you notice that none of the men have raised their eyes, they’re focused intently on the card game. This isn’t some sleazy club like you initially thought when you heard ‘sex club’ leave the lips of the other servers. You relax a little at being able to just be yourself tonight, maybe a bit more naked than you’d usually be but yourself nonetheless.

You take the black marble serving tray as the bartender points to the table closest to the bar. The curly hair man that the women were talking about in the change room faces away from you. Your heart leaps in your chest. Joel. As you approach the other server standing behind the table, he starts to turn his head. Time stops, your heart speeds up, and it starts to feel simultaneously too hot and too cold in the room all at the same time. It’s almost as if he’s turning his head in slow motion. As you catch his side profile he has the same hooked nose, in the dim light of the room you can’t see any greys along his temples and he doesn’t appear to have a beard. After what feels like an hour, his eyes finally meet yours and you let out a breath, although you aren’t sure if it’s disappointment or relief leaving your lungs. It’s not Joel Miller.

“Mind bringin’ me another Macallan neat, sweetheart?” His eyes stay locked on yours as he smiles at you sweetly. He holds the crystal glass out for you and you take it with a soft ‘yes, sir.’

Something about those eyes, and the way they flash darkly at being called sir, feels all too familiar. In the time it takes for you to take the six or seven steps to the bar you convince yourself that it’s just your brain seeing him everywhere. You tell yourself that when you bring this drink back he’ll look nothing like the man you caught knuckles deep in a woman as she cried out, nothing like the man who was so gentle and sweet, yet slightly bossy and commanding with you this afternoon.

That’s definitely it, you say to yourself with finality. You’re just cock drunk over a cock you’ll never have.

The bartender pops the whiskey open and the hair on the back of your neck stands up, you can feel someone looking at you. Almost feel their stare heating the right side of your body. It feels as if all of your exposed skin is being covered by the gaze of whomever is looking at you, shielding you protectively from the view of the other men. The bartender's eyes flick to the corner of the room and then back to you while he hands you the drink. The shift of his gaze confirms that you weren’t imagining it, there is someone looking at you. You place the whiskey on your tray and spin cautiously to the right, stopping dead in your tracks when you lock eyes with Joel Miller. He looks dangerous, sitting at a low table along the wall, his face just barely illuminated by a single candle on the dark wooden table top. His fingers are laced together, forearms of his black dress shirt resting on the knees of his black dress pants. His lips are pressed in a thin, disapproving line.

He stalks over to you and you wish your tray was empty so you could shield your tits from him. The way he moves is almost menacing, like a jaguar stalking his prey, his eyes are almost black in the low light of the room. Your nipples stiffen under his intense gaze, your mouth fills with saliva and you gulp loudly. You stand frozen, the whiskey for that man you had convinced yourself isn’t related to Joel forgotten about on your tray. He plucks the drink off the marble slab, the glass looking like one of those disposable paper cups you have in your bathroom in his hand. He takes two long strides and drops the glass beside the man.

“Thanks,” he starts to coo, a ten dollar bill clasped between two fingers. After realizing it’s not you, he adds a confused, “Brother?”

He tries to pull the money back, but Joel is quicker. Snatching it from his brother's grasp and tucking it into the breast pocket of his dress shirt. Joel turns back to you and steps in closely, your lower back hitting the cold marble bartop and you gasp, arching your back and naked breasts towards Joel. His jaw flexes as he fights to keep his eyes level with yours.

“What are you doin’ here?” he says in a harsh whisper.

“I’m working,” it comes out a lot more bratty and defiant than you intend it to.

“Not here you ain’t.”

You take a small step forward, your hard nipples lightly grazing the soft fabric of his black dress shirt. “I’m not leaving.”

His hand circles your bicep and you twist out of his grasp. “You’re makin’ a scene, darlin’.”

“You are, Joel. I’m just trying to make money.” He grabs you more firmly this time, not tight enough to hurt you but enough for you to know he means business.

What’s his problem anyway? He doesn’t own you. What you do outside his home is none of his business. He can boss you around via an app every other week, but that’s it. That’s where it ends. You glance desperately over at Jamie to find her back to you as she speaks softly with a man who’s waiting for the next round of poker. Her hand grazes his bicep flirtatiously, she makes it look too easy to get what she wants from men. Joel guides you towards the staff changing room, keeping your body in the dark edges of the room. He’s breathing heavily through his nose, like an angry dragon and you’re honestly surprised smoke isn’t billowing out of his nostrils.

In the bright lights of the changing room you feel more exposed than ever. You want to lift your tray, but in order to prove to him that you don’t care what he or anyone thinks you don’t. In fact, you stand up taller, holding your head high and pushing your chest out. It’s infinitesimal but he looks down just for a nano second. You smirk when his eyes come back to you.

“Put a shirt on.”

“If none of the other girls have to put a shirt on then neither do I.” You pop your hip out and pull your arm free from his large calloused hand and rest it on your hip.

“Don’t fight me on this.”

“I’m not fighting. You are. So all those other girls are fine, but I’m not? Why? My tits aren’t big enough for you?”

“That’s not,” he pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a breath with his eyes closed. When he reopens them his eyes land softly on yours. “I just need you not to be here. Please.”

Bright red anger sparks along the sides of your eyes. Seriously, who does he think he is? “You aren’t the boss here, Mister Miller.”

“Do NOT call me that.” His neck flushes the same colour as your vision. You stand your ground, eyes narrowing into glaring slits. What is his aversion to being called Mister Miller, and why does it turn you on a little bit to rile him up when you use it?

“You aren’t my boss or my dad, Joel. You can’t make me leave or tell me what jobs I can or can’t take.” You’ve figuratively dug your heels in, you aren’t leaving. He can’t make you. Only Laren or whoever owns this sex club can ask that of you. “You can’t kick me out like you own the place.”

“Actually,” he says darkly, “I can.”

“What?” You say through a nervous breath, eyes widening.

“I own the place. So I can kick you out, and I am kicking you out. Get your shirt.”

Your shoulders fall slightly. You feel about two feet tall with the realization that he doesn’t want you here. This afternoon you thought that maybe he cared, he seemed like he cared, and now you’re half naked and he wants you to leave. He watches as you unclasp your bow tie and slide on your bra and shirt.

You look over at Jamie’s clothes and it dawns on you that you didn’t drive here. Your face falls as you blink around the room and then towards Joel.

“What’s wrong?” he says through thick concern.

“Nothing. I just…”

He steps towards you, he’s so broad, his presence so large that you start to feel almost claustrophobic when he’s this close, but you never want him to step away. You’d happily let him smother you with his innate Joel-ness. “You just what?”

“I didn’t drive here,” you say quietly, looking down at your hands. Your left thumb nail immediately finds purchase along the cuticle of your right thumb.

His strong palm cups your chin, lifting until he’s looking at you again. You’re becoming more and more used to the amount of eye contact Joel seems to make. He seems constantly dialed in on you when you’re in the same room.

Yes, I would be very happy to let him smother me.

The harsh lines of his face soften, “I can get you a car. They’ll meet you at the staff door.”

You nod into his hand and find it exceedingly hard to stay mad at him when he looks at you that way. He drops your chin and turns his large, broad body back towards the swinging door. He looks over his shoulder and says, “I’m sorry. I just can’t have you here, this is on me.” His voice is soft and sad, almost as if he’s full of remorse and just hoping you won’t hate him before heading back into the poker game. Any bit of anger is flushed from your system, replaced with the disappointment of having to leave wherever Joel is.

You drag your feet to the elevator and then towards the staff exit. You let the heavy door close behind you with a loud bang as a blacked out SUV pulls up. The driver says your first and last name as he opens the back door for you. You look towards the black building one last time.

“I’m sorry. I just can’t have you here, this is on me.”

JMKink is written in shiny metallic black on the door and all the information of the evening hits you at once. JMK. Joel Miller Kink. Joel Miller, insanely handsome millionaire, owns a sex club.

Follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates and turn on notifications for future chapters and other work.

780 notes · View notes

tiredmamaissy · 3 months

Text

Ralak te Sepawn ieyk’itan: Special Episode VI

Labor of Love - Part III

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's insanely talented creator @zestys-stuff. Thank you so much for allowing me to play around with your characters!

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (25) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (20) featuring Metkayina!Zu’té (29)

Warnings: zero smut, explicit childbirth, water birth, difficult labour, contractions, amniotic fluid, breastfeeding, family fluff, expletives, this is a bit angsty but there’s a happy ending

Word Count: 7.3k

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: the following depicts a very detailed, difficult, and medically inaccurate birth. This is graphic. I am quite literally going to simulate a birthing experience in your pov and I strongly suggest opting out now if anything pregnancy or birth related could make you uncomfortable. Finally, this is most definitely not medical advice, nor should this be used as a reference for what to expect during birth. This is a fanfiction about blue aliens, after all. With that being said, let’s welcome Ralak into fatherhood!! Enjoy 😊

Synopsis: Things were moving too fast until they weren't moving fast enough. The time has come and you're starting to doubt your capabilities. But thankfully your mate is here to guide you through this.

<- Previous

“Okay, Toto. Just do it. Go in there.” Zu’té sounds breathless as he speaks to himself, turning around to face the door. He hears your whimper and his jaw tightens. “Shit. Okay. Right.” Just as he raises his hand to pull back the curtain, he hears a winded voice. “Brother.”

Zu’té spins around to face the voice of an angel—Ralak.

“Oh, thank Eywa. Thank you great mother. Thank you.” Zu’té chants in relief despites being one of the least spiritual persons someone can meet. He knew deep down that Eywa answered his call.

Zu’té makes eye contact with the dishevelled and worn out giant. His attention is immediately drawn to the lengthy gash on his shoulder that seems to have been stitched up in a haste.

“Ay’ana.” Ralak growls when he sees him staring.

The colour drains from Zu’té ‘s face, but before he can respond, Ralak’s ears perk up when they hear what seems to be a low whimpering. It sounds as if you're straining and struggling to breathe. His eyes dart behind Zu’té and then quickly snap back to his brother, filled with panic.

Zu’té just barely shakes his head, urging himself to focus on the most important thing right now.

“Your mate is in labour, tak.”

Ralak’s eyes widen at the confirmation. He knew it. He felt it back inland.

Without another passing second, Ralak pushes past Zu’té and enters his marui. You hear the faint flap of the door and try to shift yourself in order to keep some level of decency.

“I said to leave.” You’re breathless, gripping relentlessly onto the wooden stilt.

Ralak’s frozen in place, taking in the sight of you labouring by yourself. One that no matter how painful, is a sight he has always longed to see. A sense of pride fills his chest, his mate is showing such great strength that it’s admirable. Bringing life to his child is something he will eternally be grateful for.

But then he sees your fingernails. How they've gone dull from all your gripping and scraping, and his sense of pride quickly mixes with shame. Shame that he has left you alone in this.

Your laboured breathing is audible, practically wheezing as you struggle to breathe through the last lap of this contraction. You keep holding your breath and it’s more than evident from the red tinge in your face. Breathing is no longer the thing that you’re most focused on anymore, it’s the pressure between your legs.

He doesn't want to startle you but he can’t just watch you suffer any longer. He approaches you cautiously, examining you in attempts to discern how far into your labour you are.

You're glazed in a layer of sweat, glimmering in the faint light of the first sliver of sun. Your shoulders rise and fall rapidly as you pant faster than a viperwolf pup, and your belly is low and firm as it tightens from the contraction.

Ears laid flat to your skull and brows tightened, you curl over and clutch your stomach. He releases his clenched jaw and lessens the distance between the two of you. He gently places his hands on your lower back, pressing into you with the ball of his palm.

The warmth alone provides a bit of relief for you, allowing you to momentarily catch your breath.

“Zu’té.” You hiss under your breath, surprised he’s even come in, much less laid a hand on you.

You let go of the marui stilt to swat away his hand with a loud smack. The reminder of you labouring in the presence of another man that isn’t him makes him wince.

“Muntxate [wife].” Ralak husks quietly, using his thumbs to rub circles into your back. Your ears lift from your skull and perk up when you realise it’s your mate, back home from the excursion.

Tears overflow and spill down your cheeks. Tears of pain. Tears of exhaustion. Tears of relief.

“Ralak.” You let out a nasally sob, unable to look at him just yet due to the contraction still rippling through you. You speak between your moans, voice cracking.

“You’re back. You’re here. It’s happening, lak. He’s coming. And I—I thought you’d miss it. I thought you weren’t coming back. I thought… I thought—”

“Alright, alright. I am right here with you, tanhì. Mawey, mawey [calm, calm].” He hums steadily, already reaching behind him for his kuru. “How long have you been in labour?”

“D-Don’t know.” Your breath catches in your throat and your knees begin to tremble. “Too l-long.”

Ralak’s heart throbs in his chest at the thought of you enduring this on your own for that long. The contraction is finally subsiding, and you're eager to find relief in your mate. You exhale shakily and grip his wrist as you try to straighten your spine.

“Easy.” Ralak is quick to help you to your feet, holding you by your hip and arm. “Can you stand?”

You nod your head as you slump back into him regardless. “It’s happening, ‘lak.” You wheeze, resting your head on his chest. Despite the slight sting, Ralak smiles, joyful to know his son will soon be born.

“It is, my tanhì.” Ralak hums, swaying side to side with you against his body as he brings his glowing tendrils towards the end of your braid. He’s spent but he knows the exhaustion he feels is nothing in comparison to yours. “I am so sorry I have left you alone in this.”

“‘ts not your fault, my love.” You murmur, lulling your head against his chest. “...not your fault.”

Though your contraction has passed, the pressure in your pelvis has a steady, constant groan vibrating in your throat. It’s a feeling that won’t let up, and the further you progress the more intense it gets. It feels like your body’s at its limit, unable to accommodate your babe any longer.

“Mmmn—tsaheylu, please.” Your plea is drawn out and low, unaware that he’s already one step ahead of you.

When he makes the bond, the pressure is instantly lightened but is quickly replaced with a sharp pain in your shoulder and back. He sucks in a sharp breath and grimaces from the sudden pain and pressure that flows into him.

You gasp and clutch your left shoulder, whipping your head around to look behind you. Immediately, you catch sight of his wound.

Fresh blood spurts out between the ragged stitches and globbed over herbal concoction, dribbling down his chest and back in thin streams.

“Shit.” You curse, ripping your queue away from him, abruptly severing the bond—causing the pressure to come back tenfold. “Fuck—you’re injured.”

“I am fine.” Ralak insists, reaching for your kuru again.

“Tsaheylu will infect it.” You insist, keeping your kuru away from him.

“Ke tare [it doesn’t matter].” He says sharply, catching his tone and softening it. “Allow me, please.”

Ralak reaches for your kuru again, eager to make it up to you—to take the pain for whatever time you have left. But you shake your head firmly.

The fact that making tsaheylu caused it to rupture and bleed, a gash that size will surely worsen with the influence of your labour. Ralak respects your wish, although he’s in disagreement with it. He’d never make the bond without your consent and he feels as if he’s already missed too much of your labour to continue the argument.

“…what happened?” You ask shakily, terrified to know the answer. “Wh-What did they do to you?” You feel yourself begin to tear up.

Seeing him so hurt always made your heart heavy.

Your question catches him off guard, bringing him back to the moment he saw his own karyu. He swallows, having trouble keeping his calm and figuring out what to say. He has no intention of keeping it from you, but truthfully it isn’t the right time to speak of such matters. Not when you’re nearing the peak of the birth of your firstborn.

“Not now. You are labouring.” Ralak says sternly yet gently, reshifting his focus and concern back to you.

And if it weren’t for the unbearable heavy sensation in between your legs you would’ve protested. You nod lazily as your breath hitches repeatedly, your hand finding its way to the lowest part of your abdomen to press into it. Your lengthy groans start up again, you can feel your entire body begin to tense up.

“Another? So soon?” Ralak’s voice falters, concern now evident in his tone. He steadies himself behind you, pressing his hands into your lower back once more.

“Pressure. ‘ts too much.” You pant, leaning forward and using your free hand on the marui stilt for support.

“Pressure?” Ralak tries his best to understand what you mean. Thinking that he’s pressing too hard into your back, he eases up and apologises. You shake your head and quickly replace your hand onto the lowest part of your abdomen with his.

“Pressure!” You yelp the word like a plea for help, hoping he’ll get it without you needing to explain. Talking is becoming more difficult with each passing contraction. When he does finally understand, his eyes widen and brow bones jump.

“Ah—he is moving down, tanhì.” Ralak tries to speak calmly, sliding his other hand over your stomach. His fingers smooth over your skin, taking in its heat and supple texture. He then feels it tighten even more, contracting right under the pads of his digits.

“Tewti [whoa].”

It’s the first he’s ever felt a contraction, despite being a mandated witness to numerous first breath rituals in the clan. He begins counting under his breath, trying to gauge your progression by determining how long they’re lasting. But before he can get into the double digits your low grumble turns into a high pitched cry.

Ralaks ears immediately go flat, hearing a cry like that rip from your throat makes his heart tighten in his chest. He shuffles closer to you upon realising that you're curling over from the pain. Moving quickly, he supports your body weight with one hand to your belly and another over your chest.

“Ralak!” You cry out, “Please! Do something!”

With that, Ralak’s hands slip back down to your lower abdomen, cupping your belly and gently pull upward. This always helped if the baby was sitting too low, relieving some of the heaviness and pressure on your bladder.

Instantaneously, the pressure relieves. Your cry dissipates into a loud sigh, your downturned lips flipping up into a small smile of relief.

“Thank you—” Pop. “—ugh” Gush.

You’re silent, but your face screws into a grimace as the pain rushes back in with a vengeance. You look down in a painful daze, feeling the trickle of liquid down your thighs and legs. Through blurred vision, you watch as a pool forms at your feet, as well as Ralaks.

“Shit.” Ralak mutters under his breath, recognizing what’s just happened.

His head whips around to the sound of the flap of the marui door. He looks behind him, met with the panicked, bulging eyes of Zu’té, who’s staring intently at the scene unfolding before him. He's just worked up enough courage to enter the room.

Zu’té finally makes eye contact with Ralak, and Ralak nudges his chin in the direction of the village, mouthing—‘Get a healer’. Zu’té nods and takes off at full tilt.

“…fuck‘m sorry. My waters...” You mumble, fingers digging into his arms in attempts to keep you standing, to no avail.

Your knees buckle beneath you, and you lose all ability to keep yourself on your feet. Ralak supports you, moving down with you rather than trying to keep you standing. He slowly and gently lowers you to the floor, away from the growing puddle.

“What for? Your water breaking? No need to be.” Ralak chuckles breathily, trying to make it obvious that it’s no big deal—he’s unbothered by it.

“Me-messed you up.” You grunt, breath straining as you lean all your weight back into him.

“You did no such thing.” He reassures you through a quick breath, adjusting you into a more comfortable position.

You lay on top of him, shifting onto your side and off the sharp throb in your lower back. You clutch his bicep with one hand and keep the other snug under your bump.

He’s more so in an awkward position than not, his back now against the base of the bed and his right leg propped up to keep you from rolling back. He has no issue staying put in this position if it means some sort of relief for you.

But your groans only deepen, lengthening and ending with small grunts.

“You alright, mama?” He checks in on you through a whisper, knowing that things move quickly once the water breaks.

You nod your head, trying to be strong, but he can see right through it. And you know it. You sputter out a sob and shake your head, finally admitting the truth—finally facing reality.

“I know, I know, tìyawn. Almost there.”

Even without tsaheylu, he is able to tell how long you have left just based on your sounds and body language. With each little grunt he notices that your face shifts to a brighter shade of pink.

He takes note of your tail, and how it’s now tightly coiled, tucked to the base of your tailbone—out the way. Your shoulders are bowed and your stomach sits low, hard as a rock.

“Oh!—Eywa, ple-ase.” You mumble a plea, eyes squeezing shut when you come to the height of your contraction. “Mmm’fuck—fuck.”

“A little longer.” He places a firm, comforting kiss on the temple of your head. “It will soon be over.”

You feel Ralak’s hand firmly patting your lower back, attempting to put the fire out. But now the pressure’s released, the pain is only more intense—spreading and morphing into a new feeling altogether.

“Ralak—Ralak!” You panic, your head rolling side to side as you strive against this new sensation.

“Right here with you.” He hums, pressing hard into your lower back with the ball of his palm. “What do you need?”

You begin frantically tugging at your soaked loincloth, trying your hardest to get it off of you. Ralak quickly takes over, untethering the knot and slipping it off you.

“Need to—aahaa! I think he’s—haah—he’s—he’s coming!” You yell, unable to fight the new feeling. An urge you’ve never felt before. The urge to push. “Ralak—I’m scared!”

“Listen to your body.” Your mate encourages you with a steady and calm voice.

His gaze snaps down to witness your leg rising into the air and your hand hooking under the back of your knee. His hand cups over yours, helping you support the weight of your suspended leg.

Ralak manoeuvres himself in a way that allows him to support you and see what’s happening. He gently tugs your leg back a little further, having a proper look. He can see just how swollen and tender the flesh between your legs is—ripe and ready. It’s time.

“Muntxate [wife]. Bear down if you need to.”

“I—I—urgh!” You cry out, finally giving into the urge to push, allowing your body to bear down in the way it’s been trying to. Holding your breath, you tuck your chin to your chest and sink your fingernails into Ralak’s bicep, pushing as best as you can in this position.

“Good, good. Good push, tanhì.” His voice is hushed but steady as he watches in awe as your body flourishes. “Syeha si [breathe].”

As the urge subsides, you release your breath and gasp for air a few times. If he’s really coming, you don’t want it to be here. You had both discussed doing this in the comfort of your own lake. The lake in the cave, where your relationship with him had blossomed to begin with.

“Not here.” You say out of breath, legs shaking terribly.

Ralak leans in closer to you, listening carefully to decipher your murmurs. You keep your eyes closed shut, unable to open them anyway. They feel as heavy as you do, weighed down with exhaustion and agony.

But as you feel your stomach tighten and the urge rush back in, you realise that time lessening. “Water—get me in the water, please!”

Ralak hesitates, scanning your body to see if moving you in this state is the right thing to do. He watches as you tense up in agony as you contract, and quickly the realisation dawns upon him, too. At this rate, the babe will be here at any moment.

And if your wishes are to give birth in the water, now is the time to fulfil them.

Ralak scoops you up into his firm clutch, rises to his feet, and rushes out the door. Taking his time down the steps, your grip around his neck tightens just as a groan rumbles in your chest. Your legs squirm in his grasp as they try to snap open.

“Hurry! He’s coming!” You grunt, burying your face into the crease of his peck, biting down to fight the feeling.

Ralak glances down at you a few times, brows gathered from the worry that plagues his heart. He’s holding you tight, so as not to let the wiggle of your body loosen his grip.

“Here.” He huffs out, nearing the entrance of the cave.

Immediately immersing himself hip-deep into the water, he moves hastily, submerging you as he makes his way over to the ledge and helps you into position.

The ledge makes a smaller, more shallow pool in the lake, perfect for you to sit in with your back supported by the bank.

Water is up to your chest, slushing and splashing against your neck as you desperately readjust yourself to get comfortable. Your head is perched on the bank of the lake, hands spread across to hold onto the rocky surface. Your toes grip the floor, rooting yourself to the ground to keep you stable, knees bobbing at the water's surface.

“Fuck! Ralak!” You cry out, feeling your body act on its own accord.

Ralak is already in front of you, one hand on your bump as the other slips between your thighs to feel your progression. All while he’s looking down at you with nothing but concern etched into his features, unsure of what more he can do for you without tsaheylu.

He witnesses your face turn red as you hold your breath again, using as much force as you can to push him out.

Ralaks hand moves from your bump to cup your cheek, his fingernails raking away the streaks of sweaty hair plastered to your face and tucking them behind your ear.

“Syeha si, tanhì [breathe].” He reminds you gently, exaggerating a breathing pattern you had rehearsed a few weeks ago, and you try to match his rhythm.

But you’re stuttering and sobbing, unable to establish a pattern and push at the same time. Your back is on fire and it feels as if the baby isn’t moving any further down.

The contraction finally ends with a loud wheeze and your head slumps back into the rocky bank. You shake your head as you struggle to open your heavy lidded eyes.

Your vision is blurry and spotty. You glance down in a haze and lock eyes for a moment with the worried giant before you, and then you feel yet another contraction wash over you. They are on top of one another—back to back—with little to no break between them.

“Fuck. Please. Please. Plea—” You weep weakly, eyes slamming shut as your chin makes contact with your chest, cutting off your pleas with a lengthy, guttural grunt. You push with what you have left, giving yourself a throbbing headache as a result.

“Pushing so, so well.” Ralak praises you with a hushed voice, feeling something press against his fingers.

As you strain, you feel the delirium set in. The panic of not knowing if you’re capable of doing this. Every inch of you more than ached, yet some parts of you have even gone numb from how long this has been going on.

You can barely get a proper breath in much less breathe the way you should when you’re pushing. You feel like your body may give out at any moment.

“Keep going, y/n.” He encourages you, seeing your exhaustion and feeling you stop.

“Ralak…lak.” You let out a sob and try to relax your body, but end up collapsing back into the rocky surface again. “‘m tired, lak.” You mumble shakily between laboured pants, “...want him out.”

“I hear you.” Ralak tries to reassure you, now supporting both your trembling legs as they threaten to give out. “He will soon be out, tanhì. But you have to keep going.”

“No—oh, no, no.” You cry, tensing up from another agonising contraction. You didn’t think they could get any more painful. “No more. No more, please.”

“Come now, big push for me.” Ralak instructs softly, repositioning himself to help deliver his son.

“Ugh—!” You scream, giving all you have left into this push. Beads of sweat roll down your temples at a concerning speed, and your face shifts to an even more vibrant shade of red. “Please! Please get him out of me!”

“He’s coming out, tìyawn. Keep pushing, almost there. Almost there.” Ralaks voice is low and laced with panic, despite his greatest efforts to keep calm and collected.

This cycle repeats for some time, instilling worry into both you and Ralak. You’re having a difficult time, and it’s taxing on your body to keep this going.

Truthfully he can tell that you’re really struggling, and he’s getting a little more worried as time passes. But then he feels the baby press against his fingers and hope fills him once more.

“That’s it. Push just like that, y/n.”

“Fuck—” And just as last time, you collapse back into the bank, depleted with nothing left to give. You begin to think that maybe everything you’ve been hearing was right.

Maybe you can’t do this.

“I…I can’t.” You sputter defeated, letting your legs go limp either side of you.

“Mawey [calm]. You can. Your body is made for this.” He reaffirms for not only you but also himself, he’s too afraid to lose you. No, he can’t lose you, too. He’s experienced too much loss.

“’s not comin’.” You shake your head lethargically, feeling faint. “He’s stuck.”

Hearing that makes his heart sink. Ronal’s words echo in his mind, putting him in a frantic state. He quickly composes himself, probing the tender flesh to help stretch it out. He feels something slimy and silken, and his ears perk up.

He’s right there. So close.

“He’s not. I feel him, he is right there.” Ralak tries to keep calm for you, attempting to reassure you as he quickly thinks about the next best move.

Zu’té isn’t back with the healer and there's not much else he can do. He looks down at you, taking in just how uncomfortable you look as he tries to imagine just how much pain you’re in. With a position like this, no wonder your back hurts. His eyes widen.

No wonder your progression has stalled.

“Move with me. Easy.” Ralak croons, carefully tucking his arm under your back to sit you up slowly. He throws your limp arms around his neck, and brings you to your knees and then your feet—supporting your weight as you get there.

“Lak, Lak!” You grimace and whimper as you try to work with your mate—your body is already so sore and weak that any movement is torturous.

“Need to get you off your back.” Ralak huffs, holding you in position until you’ve adjusted. You hold on to him, arms wrapped tightly around his neck as you settle into a squat. “A few more pushes, mama.”

“Haa—no, no.” You squeal in desperation, feeling his head descend even further down now that gravity has come into play.

Then your belly stiffens.

You bite the flesh of your cheek until you taste blood and bury your face into the dip of his collarbone—refusing the urge to push. But the instinct overrides you completely, leaving you in a panicked and delirious state.

“Take h-him out! Make the cut!”

“No, no cut. No cut.” Ralak utters a throaty whisper, pushing down into your lower back. “Bear down, muntxate [wife].”

“Ple—ase.” Your broken plea comes out as a low grunt as you shake your head frantically, driving your dulled nails into your mate. “It hurts, it hurts!”

“I know, ma’ y/n. But you must bear down, please.” His voice trembles, filled with worry, but his words are firm—non-negotiable. You continue to shake your head, fighting with what you have left, your laboured breathing deepening as you run out of strength to resist.

Ralak’s worry quickly turns into pure panic. Panic that you’ve really given up. Panic that you really may not make it out of this. That…he’ll lose you. He knows what he must do, despite it being against your wishes.

He gives your kuru a quick stroke, his way of warning you. It sends a shiver through you, but the pain is so excruciating that you can’t resist this, too.

Ralak quickly makes tsaheylu, bringing a brief moment of pure, instant relief, just enough to bring you out of your delirium. His wound reopens, burning and weeping. But not even that could prepare him for your pain.

It feels like each vertebrae in his spine instantaneously shifts out of place. It is excruciating. And strange—that urge to push. He can feel it too. It’s like an itch deep under your skin. Irresistible and uncontrollable.

“Push!” Ralak groans loudly, prompting you to bear down with whatever strength you can muster up.

You scream at the top of your lungs, achieving a frequency and volume so high it can be heard from the village. Ralak’s fingers quickly probe the tenderness between your legs to check your progress once more. Finally, he feels the baby’s head begin to emerge.

“Perfect push, tanhì. Keep going, keep going.” Now he’s winded, flustered and speaking breathily.

Your scream is cut off by your vulgar tongue, “Fuck! Fuck—it burns!” You cry out, feeling a bolt of white hot fire split you in two, making you jerk back. “It’s burning!” You sob, trying to wiggle away from the flame.

“He’s crowning. His head, shit—” He huffs, realising that the babe is coming too quickly, not giving you enough time to adjust, “Stop pushing.” His fingers probe the taut skin in attempts to prevent you from possibly tearing, “Breathe him out. Just as we practised.”

Your fingers dig even deeper into him as your head snaps up to shoot him a deadly glare. Wasn’t he just demanding that you push? To ‘listen to your body’?

You take deep, intentional breaths, eyes flicking down to search the cloudy water as you try your hardest to resist. He can feel your frustration through tshayelu, he can hear your thoughts.

“Syeha si, syeha si [Breathe, breathe]. Let yourself adjust. Let your body push for you.” Ralak tries to explain, using the bond to his advantage and using the bond to his advantage.

‘I can’t do it.’ You think to him, unsure if you’re even doing it right.

“You can. You are. Just like that.” Ralak works with you, probing the tender skin once more as he feels the head emerge. “A little longer.”

But yet, you feel yourself giving in.

“Can't. Help. It.” You whimper, your breath stuttering as it catches in your throat. Tears roll relentlessly down your cheeks. You need him out.

Now.

You drop to your knees and tuck your chin to your chest. “Haah!” Your breath finally releases, and a guttural, lengthy grunt follows after.

Ralak feels you push — hard. He readies himself, steadying his stance as he traces his fingers around the circumference of his unborn’s head to help guide him out.

He is, too, looking down into the murky water, trying his best to see what’s going on. All he can do is rely on his sense of touch and the feeling through the bond to help him.

“Ngh—ugh!” You feel a pop between your legs and the pressure minutely releases.

Just then Ralak feels the rest of your baby’s head emerge. He can feel the curls of his silken hair, and how they’re laid flat to his skull. Ralak nearly breaks down right there, but fights the array of emotions bombarding him all at once to recenter his focus back on you.

“His head is out.” He croaks, supporting the babe's head with the palm of his hand. “Hair like yours.”

Ralak gently unlatches your grip on his shoulder and guides your hand under the water and towards his. Aside from wanting you to feel what he’s feeling, he’s hoping that this will give you the strength to keep going.

You feel the sliminess first, and then the soft, velvety texture of your son's head. You weep, slumping your head into Ralak's chest as you focus on gathering as much energy during the small break from the contractions.

It’s incredible to know that your body created this life.

“Oh god…it’s him.” You barely whisper.

“You are so strong, you know that? Mighty.” Ralak hums, cupping the back of your head with his hand. You lift your head to look at him and he rests his forehead against yours, searching your eyes with his. “One more push for me, okay?”

You nod your head, bottom lip curled over to touch your chin. His hand slips from your neck to your cheek, his thumb wiping away one tear of a thousand. The tightening of your stomach has you tensing up, gripping onto him for support. You groan and moan until the contraction reaches its peak, where you begin to grunt and push against the budding pressure.

He steadies himself once more, quickly slipping his hand off your cheek back into the water. He holds your son's head with one hand, and hooks the fingers of his other hand under his son's left shoulder. It pops out with the help of his gentle tug, and you bear down even harder.

“A little more.” He encourages you, waiting patiently to feel his son's right shoulder emerge. He feels the bridge of his shoulder and Ralak jumps into action, carefully guiding his son's shoulder out. “Perfect, there it is.” Ralak mumbles quickly, hyperfocused on ensuring a safe delivery.

You whimper when the burning sensation comes back, shoving your forehead into his chest. It’s hard to breathe. Every fibre in your being has you wanting to hold your breath for more leverage to get him out. Your noises fade to little choked muffles, quick and uneven.

“Breathe.” Ralak chokes out, feeling your burning lungs through tsaheylu. He immediately establishes a somewhat steady breathing pattern for you to sync into.

“Pwah!” You let out a shaky, harsh breath of air, panting as you try to sync with him. “Urgh—ah!” you groan as you push, surprised by how long this torturous contraction is lasting.

“Please get him out of me, please, please.” You whisper into his chest.

“Shoulders are out, tanhì” Ralak huffs next to your ear, tenderly rubbing his cheek against your temple.

“Catch him, Lak.” You wheeze, your legs shaking uncontrollably from carrying your weight for such a long time. He wants so badly to do the rest for you, now really sensing your weariness through the bond. But he couldn’t, all he could do was support you through every second of this.

“I have him, muntxate [wife].” He whispers, lips pressed to your ear. “Last push.”

A hoarse, empty cry evades your trembling lips as you bear down a final time. Suddenly the pressure releases entirely, and you feel your son slip out of you and into Ralaks hands. You let out a loud moan of relief, immediately pulling away from Ralak’s chest to look down into the water.

“He’s out. He’s here, tanhì. You did it, mama. You did it.” Ralaks cracked voice is full of relief. “He—he is so small.”

You fall back onto your behind, breaking tsaheylu with your mate. Your eyes search for your newborn but you can’t make anything out of the murkiness of the water.

You look up to witness tears fill Ralak’s eyes for the first time as he holds the baby underneath the water. Your back hits the rocky bank of the lake in solace knowing your son is in safe hands.

Then Ralak grits his teeth and lets go.

“Lak. Ralak.” Your panicked, hoarse voice calls for him, but you’re too weak to get up. “Ho-Hold him, Ralak.”

Ralak looks like he’s fighting his own instinct to scoop up his young and cradle him in his chest. And that’s because he is. It’s taking everything in him not to do just that, but he knows that this is the way. The right way.

“Mawey [calm]. First breath.” Ralak gently reminds you of the Metkayina ritual. He knows he must do this, especially in the absence of the Tsahik. “Let him swim.”

You watch intently as the water slowly clears, revealing the wiggle of your newborn's body. “Help him.” You plead with trembling lungs, having a hard time watching this unfold.

Ralak stays close to his newborn, ready to jump into action in an instant. But the babe rises to the top all on his own—swimming directly from the womb. You burst into tears, chest swelling with pride and every emotion under the moon.

Nonetheless, Ralak taps his bum softly, his other hand hovering underneath his son's feet in the case he needs to intervene. This is the first moment where your son has made you both proud.

Your son breaks the water with his face, chubby cheeks and puckered lips. You hear the sound of his little, first breath — pwah. His eyes open as he looks around, catching sight of his father scooping him into his arms.

“You did it, my little one.” Ralak whispers with a crack in his voice, shifting his gaze over to you. “You did it. I’m so proud of you.” He repeats in absolute shock and awe, and this time you know he’s talking to you, too.

Ralak holds his son close to his chest and away from his weeping wound, using his body heat to keep him warm as he makes his way over to you. The babe wails when he catches your scent, squirming in his fathers arms as if he were trying to get to you on his own terms.

“She is right here, son.” He whispers, bouncing him a bit as he places him in your arms, helping you hold him for the first time. “Hold his head.”

Your arms feel like jelly and they won’t stop shaking, but you’re eager to hold your newborn. Ralak tucks himself closely at your side, keeping a precautionary hand under your arm. Immediately, he calms, gurgling and cooing as he listens to the familiar and comforting thump of your heart. It’s all he’s heard in the past ten months.

Teary eyed, you look down through blurred vision, taking in the sight of your son. Every feature. Every stripe. Every freckle. His dark turquoise skin, golden eyes, pointed pink ears. A tail like his father, but five fingered, like his mother. He is the perfect mix, the perfect balance.

“You’re perfect.” You whisper, admiring his little coos and floppy, soft ears that lay flat against him. His head turns towards your bosom, puckered lips brushing against your top in search of your nipple. “Hungry? Hm?” You hum shakily.

Ralak is quick to help you, helping you position him just right. Your son shakes his head as he tries to latch for the first time, and both you and Ralak watch quietly with wobbly smiles plastered on your faces.

With two fingers, Ralak presses down onto your breast, angling your nipple in a way that makes it easier for you and him. You can’t help the grimace on your face when he does latch and suckle, but it quickly turns into a smile as you watch him feed for the first time.

“Rak’äni.” Ralak proudly announces the name of his first born son.

You look up at him, witnessing a tear or two roll down his cheek. You’d never seen this giant cry like this before. The past two days have been too much.

“Rak’äni.” You repeat with a smile, Ralaks eyes finally meeting yours. He leans in and meets your lips with his, kissing you tenderly. He lingers there forehead to forehead as he pulls away, allowing himself to be vulnerable—to soak in his emotions.

“I love you. I see you, y/n. For life. And beyond.” Ralak sheds a few more tears as he speaks the words.

“Nìt’iluke [neverendingly; forever].” You say wearily, heavy lidded eyes struggling to stay open.

Snap.

Ralak hears the sound of a branch breaking underneath the weight of a person's foot. Ralak looks behind him, hand under the water clutching the dagger on his hip, ready to protect his family. He sees the silhouette of a woman standing at the opening of the cave, basket on her hip as the last rays of sun shine through her.

The first eclipse is starting.

Is that how long this has gone on for?

His heart skips a beat as his eyes narrow to see who it is…to see if it’s how he suspects it may be. Did she really follow us?

He then sees a taller figure emerge behind her, then another, and another…and another. And soon he counts seven heads in total and it dawns on him.

It’s your family—and his.

“We have visitors, little one.” Ralak coos quietly at his baby, his thumb just barely gliding over his cheek. “Are you alright, mama?” His voice sounds muffled and distant, as if he were at the other side of the lake. “The healer is here.”

“Tired...Hurts.” You mumble, letting your eyes fall shut.

You feel Ralak’s gentle touch as he tucks himself behind you, supporting you with his body. His arm is under yours, keeping the babe safely above water as he feeds. You can fully relax your body now, sinking into your mate’s pillowy chest.

“Rest.” Ralak whispers. “I have you.”

“You won’t believe, brother. The tshahik is also in labour. And I couldn’t find you…I heard y/n scream and—oh…” Zu’té lowers his voice to a whisper, catching sight of the freshly born babe in your arms. “Tak. He’s here.” His voice falters even more as he nears his blood.

His only family outside of Ralak. He’s awestruck, taking in all the different features of a new kind as he feeds. The babe's skin resembles the depth of his mother, but the tone of his father. Stripes like an omaticaya. Tail like a Metkayina. Five-fingered.

Truthfully, the length of his stare has Ralak feeling a little uneasy and a bit protective.

“Toto.” Ralak hasn’t called him that in years, “Meet your nephew—Rak’äni.”

“Rak’äni.” Zu’té repeats through a whisper, keeping his distance from the babe. “Fyole [beyond perfection].”

Ralak relaxes, smiling proudly. “He is.”

Zu’té fumbles with a small satchel on his hip, taking something out of it in a haste. He hands Ralak something small, something delicate. It's weaved to perfection, with colours of the sunset.

"For him." Zu’té says in a hushed voice, unfolding the garment to show his brother. It's a hat, an entirely new concept to the Metkayina. Ralak looks at him, a little confused, eyes bouncing between the strangely shaped item and his brother. "For the child's head."

Ralak smiles, his furrowed brows relaxing when he understands. Zu’té raises his brows and gently nudges it closer to the babe in your arms. Ralak nods, watching as Zu’té slips it on his head as gently as he can.

"Toto, that is very kind—"

"Don't flatter yourself." Zu’té cuts his brother short, pulling back to see the finished result of his hard work. It fits perfectly. "I had plenty of time."

Zu’té steps back, giving you two some space.

A sudden splash of the water makes Ralak jolt in his skin, but he calms down once he realises that it’s the healer situating herself next to you so she can tend to you. He isn’t all here right now, either.

“You did well, sa’nu.” You recognize her voice and strain to open your eyes, vaguely seeing her features.

She was at all your lessons with Ronal. The only one who didn’t look at you like some sort of alien. The only one who treated you with respect.

“All on your own. You need to be strong for a little while longer, alright? This may hurt.”

She begins gently massaging your abdomen under the water—a step that is empirical for healing. You clench your jaw and squeeze your eyes shut, shoving your head back into Ralak, who is visibly trying to withhold his look of displeasure.

“I get that look quite a bit. It’ll be over soon, sempu.”

You look down with foggy vision and see the hat on your baby's head. Immediately, you know who made it. You turn your head, looking directly at Zu’té and smile, mouthing 'thank you'. Zu’té returns the smile with a slight nod, remaining silent.

A high-pitched, excited voice has both you and Ralak turning your heads to see your little sister.

“Woah! Mama, look!” Tuk exclaims, tugging Neytiri by the hand to get a closer look.

“Shh, Tuk. He is asleep.” Neytiri hushes her youngest, nuzzling her into her side. The others stay quiet as they approach, crouching down at the bank of the lake to look at their new family member.

“I am so proud of you, my daughter. He looks like you.” Neytiri whispers, raking her fingers through your knotted hair.

You exhale a shaky breath and smile weakly, leaning into your mothers comforting touch.

Jake looks down at the suckling babe in your arm, eyes burning as they gloss over with tears. “You did it, babygirl.”

Hearing your fathers words after so many years of feeling like a failure, you can’t help the sob you sputter out.

“D-Daddy.” You cry shakily, breath hitching. “It was s-so h-hard.”

“I know, baby. I know. But you did it. ” He coos at his own baby, rubbing your shoulder as he looks over to Ralak. “You both did.” He smiles with his son-in-law, cupping the back of his head with his other hand.

Neteyam and Lo’ak wait patiently at the back, not wanting to crowd you. Neteyam is particularly worried for you, he’s been beating himself up for not checking on you when he knew deep in his gut that he should have.

Lo’ak is… nervous, despite his big talk about being the best uncle. Your parents pull back, allowing some space for you, Ralak and the healer.

“Guys.” You sniffle, craning your neck to look at them. “C-Come see your nephew.”

They approach cautiously and kneel down next to you and Ralak. Neteyam smiles, golden eyes quivering as he takes in his features.

“It’s uncle teytey.” Neteyam takes his nephew's tiny hand, his thumb grazing over his five fingers. Then Neteyam looks at you, his expression going from bright to glum. “I’m sorry I didn’t check on you.”

You shake your head and smile, barely keeping your eyes open. “Don’t be.”

“Y/n. I—” To your surprise, Lo’ak is speechless. “He is beautiful.”

“Thank you, uncle Lo’ Lo’.” You smile with another sniffle, using that god-damned nickname he wouldn’t let up on.

Lo'ak returns the smile, hearing it fall from your quivering lips makes his heart full. You finally lean back against Ralak's chest, allowing your eyes to close, heavy and swollen from all your shed tears of joy and pain.

You feel the healer’s hands leave your stomach and make their way to your chest where she ensures the babe has latched properly. “Perfect latch. You are a natural, y/n.”

You smile wobbly at her words, feeling extra proud of yourself.

“I will leave the medicines here, ensure she takes them on time.” She’s speaking to Ralak, who is also in a daze, gazing down at his son. “I will come and check on her tonight. Until then, she needs to rest. No heavy lifting.”

Ralak finally averts his attention to the healer, a smile on his lips as he nods. He’d never let you lift a finger, anyways.

“Ralak, your wound is open.” Neytiri speaks with concern in her voice.

The healer looks down to see his mangled laceration. “Eywa…Now, this will hurt.” Her eyes go wide and she immediately gets her things to sew him back up. Neteyam and Lo’ak look at the bleeding gash with wide eyes. Jake grimaces.

“D-Does that hurt?” Tuk asks shyly, peeking out from behind Neytiri to see.

Ralak shakes his head with a smile, too overjoyed with the safe delivery of his first born son to even notice anymore.

“No pain. Only happiness.” Ralak says softly, accent heavy on his tongue as he looks back down at his now stirring babe.

707 notes · View notes

f1goat · 3 months

Text

roommates ; lando norris + part eight

In which you have to live with your brothers best friend who you really don't like, Lando Norris, and his many 'girlfriends' for a while, but there's always a thin line between love and hate.

masterlist - playlist

lando norris x fem!verstappen reader tw: smut & not proofread

Lando: Still not happy about you having your own hotel room

You let out a soft chuckle when you read Lando’s text message. Since you have gotten here on Wednesday, Lando has been whining about you having your own hotel room. You typ a reply, reminding him that it was him that booked the room for you. After getting back multiple sad smileys, you leave your phone alone. For now you have to focus on what you’re going to wear.

When Lando wasn’t whining about you having your own room, he has been whining about you not wearing his merchandise. So, when he started whining about that again today, you decided to change up your outfit after the third free practice. Lando however did think you’d be his after the third practice, but was disappointed to find out that you were already on your way back to the hotel.

While looking in the mirror, you touch up your make up a bit. You’re pretty sure that you’ll be on a lot of gossip accounts after wearing this to the track. You don’t even know how Max is going to respond - you could always say that you’ve lost a bet? After spraying on some perfume, you take one last look in the mirror. Your reflection looks back at you. Dressed in a hoodie that you’ve snatched away from Lando his room recently, it’s pretty clear who you’re supporting. Lando his surname is all over the hoodie. Max is either going to laugh at you or be mad. Oops.

In the mean time Lando is waiting impatiently for you to get back to the track. He almost feels annoyed with you for not being here. Your attention has been snatched away since you’re here. Not that Lando can blame you. He does however blame himself for getting you your own room. When he booked the room, he didn’t know yet that things would change between you two. It would be better if you shared his room with him. In some weird way Lando feels more peaceful while sleeping with you.

He sighs when he sees another text from you coming in, telling him that you’re stopping by RedBull first to talk with your brother. This is what he meant. Lando can’t believe himself for feeling this way, but he realizes what a luxury it is to have you in his home normally. Before he realizes what he’s doing, Lando is already walking towards the RedBull motorhome as well. The gossip accounts will love this probably. He already wonders what kind of rumors they will make up to fit by the pictures.

“Lando?” Max asks surprised when he sees his friend. Lando wants to reply, he really does, but then he notices you. The words that were almost out of his mouth, are quick to vanish. He can only focus on you. Fuck, he shouldn’t have come to RedBull. If he had you at the McLaren motorhome right now, he would drag you in his room and have his way with you until he really had to leave for qualifying.

Lando can’t look away from you. He feels insane for responding like this, but he can’t focus on anything else then you right now. He can’t believe that you’re actually wearing his merchandise. Now that he takes a better look at it, Lando even starts to think that you’ve gotten this hoodie out of his closet. Something he only likes more.

“What are you doing here Lando?” Max asks again.

This time the words come in. Lando thinks about a reply, but doesn’t know one. What is he doing here? He’s only here because he was too impatient to wait for you coming back to him. He probably shouldn’t say that.

“Uh, picking up y/n,” Lando eventually lies. Although is it really a lie? He is here to take you with him towards the McLaren motorhome. “I told her I’d show her the McLaren motorhome,” he continues. You almost laugh when you hear Lando his obvious lies. When you look at your brother and jokingly shake your head, Max has to hold back a laugh as well.

“Desperate excuse mate,” Max chuckles, “but have fun together.”

Lando can’t help and lets out a soft nervous laugh as well. He’s bad at this. When he feels your hand around his upper arm, he shows you a soft grateful smile. “Let’s go,” you tell him. Lando nods. The both of you wish Max luck on his own qualifications and then turn away from the RedBull motorhome.

“So I’m going to get a whole tour?” You jokingly ask Lando.

Lando scoffs. “You’re getting a tour of the couch in my drivers room,” he states with a soft voice, “You’re going to find out how it feels to get fucked onto it.”

You feel your cheeks heating up from the way Lando talks to you. When he shows you a small grin after those words, you’re pretty sure that you’ve actually fallen for him. This isn’t some silly little crush anymore. You really like him. Fuck.

Within minutes Lando has you inside of the McLaren motorhome, hurried he walks with you towards his own driver room. There isn’t much time left and he really needs to fuck you in these clothes before having to qualify. You on the other hand are focussed on how different the McLaren motorhome looks. Normally Lando would have found your questions and interest adorable, but now he really needs to get you to his room. He is already having a hard time with keeping his hands of you, he needs to have you for himself.

Right before he can open up the door and get you finally inside of his room, he walks into Oscar. Fuck. He tries to open his door anyways, but before he can get you in the room with him Oscar is already introducing himself. Lando sighs. How hard can it be to get you for himself?

“You’re y/n right?” Oscar asks you. He sticks out his hand for you to shake. Something you do quickly. “Yes! Nice to meet you Oscar,” you reply.

“What are you doing at McLaren? Aren’t you supposed to support Max right now?” Oscar jokingly asks.

Before you can reply, Lando is already interrupting the conversation. “We really can’t talk right now, will see you later,” he informs Oscar. Then he’s quick to pulls you into his room with him. You can only show Oscar an apologetic look before Lando closes the door. You raise one of your eyebrows while looking at Lando. You’re curious what has him acting like this. The last days he was pretty close with you as well, but nothing like this. This seems like a whole new level.

“You’re acting like you want everyone to find out that we’re fucking,” you playfully accuse Lando.

“Says the one wearing my shirt,” Lando remarks.

Then it clicks. Lando has been begging you to wear something like this. Is this his real reaction to you finally giving in to his pleas? He really must like it then. You feel your cheeks reddening. You really like this reaction. If you knew it would be like this, you would have worn his clothes since the first time he asked.

“So you like it?” You ask.

Lando can’t hold back a smirk. “I love it babygirl,” he tells you. It makes you smile as well. You think about Lando his words from before. “So, where is this couch you were going to give me a tour from?” You ask him sweetly.

Within seconds Lando has you pressed up against the wall. He’s messily kissing you. You feel his soft lips all over your body. His hands are quick to disappear underneath your skirt. He grabs your ass and firmly squeezes your cheeks. It makes you let out a soft yelp. Lando uses the short second in which your mouth is slightly opened to slide his tongue in your mouth. You don’t even try to fight for the dominance.

Softly you let out a moan. You feel Lando smirk against your lips. It makes you almost roll with your eyes. Lando enjoys having you all worked up like this.

“Lan,” you softly whimper when he’s still teasing you. Lando is pressing kisses against your neck. Softly he sucks on a small piece of your skin. He’s leaving a trail of love bites on your skin while moving downwards. It causes you to let out more moans. “Lan,” you whimper again, but louder this time.

Lando stops his movements. He’s waiting for you to say something.

“Please do something,” you beg him.

“So needy,” Lando tells you, “Such a needy girl.”

It makes you only more aroused when Lando speaks to you like this. So when he continues with soft whispers in your ears, he doesn’t even have to do anything else for you to let out a hard moan. Lando chuckles, softly telling you that everyone can hear you like this. Normally you’d feel ashamed, but Lando doesn’t seem to mind it when you let out another moan.

“Let them hear how good I make you feel,” Lando instructs you, “Don’t you dare to hold back.”

He finally slides aside your string. Teasingly he slides his finger through your slit. When he sees your eyes plastered on his face, Lando teases you even more. He takes his finger into his mouth, sucking of your wetness.

“Taste so good princess,” Lando groans.

“Please Lan,” you whine, “Don’t tease.”

It seems like Lando is shaking his head at you. You’re afraid he’s going to tease you a lot more then this. Until you hear a loud knock on his door. The sounds gets you back to reality. Fuck. What is someone walks in on you? Lando notices your shock. He thinks it’s pretty cute. You think it’s less cute when he starts to take of his race suit. Isn’t he stressing about someone walking in?

“Lando!” The person yells through the door, “You have two minutes before you have to get in the car.”

Lando doesn’t back down from you. His race suit is hanging around his ankles. Softly you take his boner in your hands. You guess this is going to be a fast one. Lando doesn’t seem like he wants to stop before fucking you properly.

It doesn’t last long before he shows you that you’re right. Lando slides his finger through your slit again. He uses a bit of your slick to make his dick a bit more sleek.

“I’m serious Lando!” The person yells again.

“Yes, almost ready,” Lando tells them with a loud voice. You hear how the person is walking off.

“Ready princess?” Lando asks you softly. You show him a small nod. That’s all it takes for Lando to slide inside of you. He fucks you on a fast pace. Slamming himself in and out of you. You can’t do anything else then moaning his name. Lando knows how to make you feel good. His finger finds your clit. He traces it.

“Tonight I’m going to take all my time with you,” Lando promises with a soft whisper in your ear, “but only if you ask me nicely if you can cum.”

Within seconds pleas are rolling of your lips. Lando can’t stop smirking. This sight makes him fall even harder for you. He’s quick to tell you that you can cum, only to increase his pace even more. When you let out a long moan, Lando is quick to follow you into his orgasm as well.

“If you’re going to react like this every time I wear you clothes, I think I’ll wear them a lot more often,” you jokingly tell Lando after catching your breath.

“My closet is yours babygirl,” Lando is quick to tell you.

+++

After the race weekend, Lando had to be in MTC for a couple days. Which caused one good thing, you didn’t have to answer his question - what you’re exploring together - for now. That conversation has been delayed. Something you’re quite glad about, because you still have no idea what to answer. After this weekend you can safely say that you’ve fallen in love with Lando, but you’re still not sure about his intentions. Maybe you should speak to Max about this? It wouldn’t surprise you if Max knows more about this.

It only lasted one day for you to get bored in Lando his apartment. Since Max is also busy with training, you can’t visit him as well. Boring. You’re really bored. It caused you to look around in Lando his apartment better. No, you didn’t snoop in his bedroom or game/work room. But you did figure out that Lando really doesn’t know how to decorate.

Something that caused you to finally figure out what to do the next days. If you’re right, Lando is away for two more days. He texted you before that if he was lucky he could come back home tomorrow eve at it’s earliest. So, you have a bit of time left. That’s exactly why you’re busy with putting bags inside of Lando his McLaren. Maybe you should have taken a car with you with a bit more packing space?

“He’s either gonna hate or love me,” you softly mutter to yourself while continuing to press the bags together. Quickly you take a picture of the overloaded trunk and text it to Max.

y/n: time to redecorate

You smile at your phone. Lando did tell you a couple times that he wouldn’t care if you changed a couple things. He even said that you could paint to walls pink at one point. If he lets you drive in his McLaren, he surely doesn’t mind a couple changes to his decor.. Right?

While driving back you think about everything you’ve gathered. It’s not like you’re going to paint his house, but you’re going to make it a bit more homey. It’s not like you’ve only bought stuff which you like, you even went out of your way to meet up with a fan for a fan art of Lando.

Coming back to Lando his apartment, it takes you a while to unload the trunk of his McLaren. Your hands are quite full while walking towards the elevator. When you’re finally back in the apartment and unpacked all your bags, it’s starting to stress you out a bit. What if you bought to many? You try to set aside those thoughts.

You start to focus on redecorating the place. It doesn’t take you long before you see the first changes. It’s a wonder what a couple decorations can do. You can’t wait for tomorrow. You did order a couple things as well which certainly wouldn’t fit in the McLaren. You’re still doubting if you’re going to make changes to Lando his bedroom as well. You did buy some stuff for it, but you’ll probably wait for Lando to come back so he can make that decision.

You almost jump up when you hear the doorbell. You didn’t expect that. Now that you think of it, you expect no one. Should you even open it? What if there’s someone for Lando? Worse thoughts are entering your mind. You can’t stop about thinking about a possibility that there’s a girl standing in front of the door for Lando. You try to discard those thoughts, but it doesn’t work that quickly. It reminds you about the biggest problem you have with answering Lando his question, you don’t know what you’re exploring with him because you don’t know if you can trust him.

After a bit of doubting you walk towards the front door. You’re glad when you see that it’s just Max who’s standing in front of the door. Quickly you open the door for him.

“Max,” you happily greet him, “I was about to call you tonight.”

“Here I am,” Max chuckles.

You try to talk about nothings for a while, but you keep thinking about Lando. You want ask Max multiple questions, he must know something from Lando right? You do however have no idea how to start a conversation about your brothers best friend.

It doesn’t take long before you’re drifting off in your thoughts. You can’t help it. Last days, or better said since your first night with Lando, this keeps happening to you. Since Lando is in Woking it has only gotten worse. It makes you realizes that you’re missing him. You’re actually missing Lando. That can’t be good.

Max is about to say something, but you need to get out your words. You don’t care about interrupting Max for now, you need to speak up because otherwise you probably never will.

“Can I confess something?” You carefully ask Max.

You think about the way you’re going to tell Max. You can’t just confess that you’re fucking with his best friend, right? Max probably thinks you still dislike Lando. For a short moment you wonder about how Max will feel about this? It’s not like he’s going to get mad, right? You let out a soft sigh. Why didn’t you think about this before? There’s a possibility of Max getting mad at you, or at Lando. This is stupid. Before you can say anything else, Max is already talking to you.

“Are you finally going to confess that you’re fucking with Lando?” Max asks you bluntly.

You have no idea how to react to this. You inspect your brothers face. He doesn’t seem mad, but you never sure about that. Then you notice a soft sound coming from Max. It almost sounds like a soft laugh. Is he laughing about this? You look at your brother again. He is in fact laughing at you.

“I’m not mad,” Max quickly tells you, “and you can’t be mad at Lando for telling me. He has been waiting for this to happen for ages.”

That makes you even more silent. Lando has been waiting for this to happen for ages? Just to have sex with you or for more?

“Fuck I’ve said too much.” Max is quick to realize his mistake. “Don’t tell him I said that,” he pleads you.

“What did you mean with it?” You ask Max.

“Answer my question first,” Max tells you, “What do you feel for Lando?”

This time you don’t hold back. You’ve been waiting for someone to ask you this. It feels like a weight gets lifted off your chest while confessing to your brother how you actually feel about Lando.

“I think I’m in love with him,” you confess, “Is that bad? It’s just that I miss him since he has left my side and I can’t stop thinking about him.” You fall silent for a bit. You try to gather your thoughts and to make out a normal sentence. “I uh, I just feel different around Lando. He’s making me feel things I’ve never felt before, not even with my ex,” you confess to Max, “but..”

“I was already waiting for the but,” Max says.

“I don’t know if I can trust him,” you sigh, “I mean, he’s a player. Right? What if this is something else for him?”

“He was only fucking other girls because he thought he couldn’t get you,” Max confesses for his friend, “but I can’t tell you more then that. Trust him and you’ll find out quick enough that he’s head over heels for you.”

part nine

a/n ; thinking about ending this story soon - my inspiration is quite gone. hopefully some new ideas will hit me soon :) you can always send in request (not promising i'll write everything!) thanks for the support!!

taglist: @booksandflowrs @hiireadstuff @likedbygaslyy @dreamsarebig @f1fantasys

@samantha-chicago @sweatrevenge5436-blog @queenofmanydreams @fionamiller123

@chezmardybum @f-1-lover-16 @formulaal @shellybee456 @sltwins

@mouchii @emyladia @v3rnom @customsbyjcg-blog @cthgee @moonclaine

@scarletwidow3000 @bokutos-babyowl @loloekie @lyannesworld @silentreader128

@oreosareara @gabotomo @princesspristins @leclercsluv @lina505

@sideboobrry11 @zucchinimalfoy @danielshoe @alana4610 @viannasthings

@toriiez @randomnessis-mine-me @cmleitora

@kika-writes @fionamiller123 @noneofyourfbusinessworld @lqvesoph @lyannesworld

@sheeeesthings @ssararuffoni @f1fantasys @chrissiekitty19-blog @voidsfics

@curbthatmf @m41-k1tt3n @f1fantasys @m41-k1tt3n @allywthsr

@curbthatmf @sheeeesthings @m41-k1tt3n @blacksoul-27 @f1fantasys

@spideylovin @splzq @chcolateeyelver @bennywattsgf @mswwvaleska

@lifesass @drunkinthemiddleoftheday @insunia

@m41-k1tt3n @aerie717 @wtsc0ns @dripostsstuff

@saachiep81 @misspygmypie

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fanfiction #lando norris imagine #ln4 #formula one #lando norris imagines #f1 #lando norris smut

537 notes · View notes

napakmahal · 11 months

Text

Baby Fever

This may or may not be a call out towards myself cause I will swear up and down I don’t want kids then see a baby in public and be like “goo goo gaga”

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that working on slow days is beyond boring. What’s even worse is when the only people that come in on slow days are shitty customers.

“The manners of today’s working class have depleted in ways I cannot fathom!” Hiro came bursting into the back of the café restaurant with a look of disbelief on his face.

Without looking up from his phone, Tadashi answered “Wow those are some big words, little brother, I’m impressed.”

“Shut up!”

You laughed while sitting on the wooden countertop, arms hugging your boyfriend’s back. “What happened?”

Hiro plopped down on the stool in front of the sink and started to rant. “This woman comes in here and she bought a mocha latté and then complained about it being six dollars. Like I’m the one who makes the fricken prices! Surprise, surprise she didn’t have enough. So what did she do? SHE REACHED INTO THE TIP JAR AND GRABBED TWO DOLLARS! But then after I took her order and started making her drink, she followed me around the entire time watching me. She pointed at the simple syrup and was like ‘Can you add another pump?’ LIKE UNLESS YOU’RE GOING TO PAY THE EXTRA 25 CENTS NO I CANNOT! And when I finally gave it to her she said I took too long and that the place down the street makes them faster and they taste better. THEN GO THERE AND STOP WRINGING OUT MY PATIENCE!”

By the end of his story, you and Tadashi were losing your minds over how hard you were laughing. Granted, Hiro being upset wasn’t funny but his storytelling abilities were unmatched.

Customers could be very difficult and earlier that day someone had told Tadashi they wanted a manager because they were being pissy about not being able to get a refund on a drink they ordered and drank half of. If it were any other day, he would have just gone to get his Aunt. But Aunt Cass went out for a girl’s day with her friends since all of them happened to be in town and relatively free at the same time. As you get older, hanging out with friends is a privilege.

A couple of dings from the bell on the front counter rang signaling the arrival of a customer. Hiro’s fight of flight sense kicked in and he practically jumped off the floor.

“No, absolutely not.” He shook his head. “I’m not taking them, my workday is over.”

“What?” Your boyfriend looked at his little brother. “It’s been two hours!”

“Yes Tadashi, it has been two hours!” He hissed. “Two hours of my life I will never get back. These people are insane!”

Hiro took off and locked himself in the walk-in pantry. He then proceeded to slam his face into an unopened bag of flour and scream his heart out.

“Oh my gosh, he’s so dramatic.” Tadashi stared at the door of the pantry, listening to his little brother’s muffled cries.

The bell was still ringing outside, the customer was still waiting. You laughed into Tadashi’s back, taking in his smell. Tadashi’s a clean person and not only that, his natural body smell is just pleasant. Just about everything you own smells like him, and you love it.

“Do you want me to get it?” You mumbled against his cardigan.

Your boyfriends turned around to look at you. “What? Why would you do that?”

“Just to help out.” You shrugged.

“Hun, you don’t work here. You really don’t have to.”

You scoffed, “You don’t work here either. Technically.”

“But I live here, so I kinda have to.”

“Tadashi, I practically live here.”

He laughed at that. It was pretty true. The only times you ever really went home were to get things you didn’t have, do your laundry, or if you felt like they were getting sick of you. Plus you never really feel like that anymore because the last time you said you feared Aunt Cass wanted you out of her house she almost started crying. She was afraid she’d done something to make you feel unwelcomed. Besides, you’re her girl in a house full of boys and their bots.

“Are you sure? I can get it, or force Hiro to do it.”

“No, it’s not a big deal.”

He leaned over and pecked you on the lips. “Okay, thank you hunny. I appreciate you so much.”

You walked outside the curtain only to be met with a young couple and their baby. He was holding onto her and trying to rip away a claw clip from her baby grip.

“Yeah, mommy’s clip is pretty.” He said in a small voice. “But we can’t eat it though.”

“What is she doing?” The mom asked looking back at her partner and their baby.

“Trying to eat your clip. I’m telling you she’s going to get sick, last night it was the pen then-”

“Hi there!” You walked towards them smiling. “So sorry about the wait.”

The mom shook her head. “No, it’s fine. We were trying to calm her down anyway.”

“What can I get you guys?”

They went on to order one green apple Italian soda with redbull, an iced hazelnut coffee, and a small warm almond milk with a cake pop. The entire time you were making their drinks, you couldn’t help but notice the babbling of their baby. She was adorable, dressed in a pink sundress and flower-shaped sunglasses. Everything from the sound of the blender to the noise the can of Red Bull made when popped open made her giggle.

During that entire time, you couldn’t help but wonder: What if Tadashi and you had a baby? What would you name them? If it was a boy, then you could name them after him or Hiro. Naomi was a beautiful name for a girl. You could buy them little themed onesies and decorate their rooms. They would say ‘dada’ before ‘mama’ because it’s beyond simple to connect with Tadashi. And they could go to school and crush their science department and say it’s because their dad is a genius.

By the time you snapped back into reality, you’d already made all their drinks and made sure to cool down the small milk for the baby. When you placed everything on the dropoff, the little girl reached her hand down from where she was being held and poked the back of your wrist with her tiny finger.

“Hello there!” You smiled at her. “Aren’t you adorable?”

Your face only made her start to giggle and placed her hand on her chin and flicked it outwards. Thank you in sign language. In return, you placed your hand flat on your chin and pulled it down towards your chest to say ‘You’re welcome’.

“She’s beautiful.” You spoke to her parents. “What’s her name?”

“This is Nyla,” Her mom smiled at her baby. “She just turned ten months, so we’re almost there.”

You gently clapped your hands together, “Oh that’s amazing. Congratulations.”

“What about you?” Nyla’s dad asked.

Her mom joined in on the questioning. “Any little ones?”

You almost choked on your own saliva at their question. I guess to them it didn’t seem too extreme. They barely looked three years older than you.

“No, I don’t. I haven’t been with my current boyfriend long enough for that. And I don’t even know if he wants any.”

Nyla’s mom gave you a sympathetic face. “Well, if you end up wanting any I hope the process is smooth.”

You thanked them and signed “bye” to Nyla. Despite them being gone, the baby fever they’d given you without trying lingered all the way into the night.

——————————————————————————

While you were lying on your boyfriend’s bed scrolling on your phone through countless baby videos and falling down the rabbit hole of how skin-to-skin connection works and how to swaddle them correctly so they don’t scratch themselves when they sleep. As your back was turned you felt a dent in the bed as your boyfriend started kissing your back from your tailbone to your shoulder blades.

“What ya’ lookin’ at hun?” He plopped down next to you and started snaking his arms around your waist.

“Just scrolling,” You kept your answer vague out of fear of freaking him out. “Hey, did you know that if you rub a teething baby’s mouth with warm garlic it will make them feel better than cold cloths?”

Tadashi kissed the side of your jaw, the tingle of his minty toothpaste prickling your skin. “I did not, that’s pretty cool.”

“When you swaddle babies you’re supposed to get them little mittens because they have really sharp fingernails.” You added.

Tadashi’s face contorted with confusion. “Why all this baby talk? What are you watching?”

“Just a bunch of baby videos.”

“Why?”

You sighed and put the phone down to turn your body down and look him in the eyes. “Well, while I was helping those customers earlier. They had such a cute baby and we just talking about having kids and stuff and I think they gave me like- baby fever or something.”

To your surprise, he started to laugh.

“Why are you laughing?” You poked.

“I’m sorry,” He grabbed your wrists. “I didn’t mean to laugh, you just caught me off guard.”

Your heart flipped in your chest out of nervousness. Had you freaked him out? “Is that bad?”

“No, no it’s not.” He assured you. “So, you want a baby?”

You covered your face with your hands and groaned. “I mean, right now yeah but then I think about like the birth process and then I’m like ‘nuh unh.’”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I think you’d make a fantastic mom.” Tadashi smiled into your neck.

You leaned over and rammed your head into his stomach. “Can we have one?”

The feeling of Tadashi’s stomach fluctuating while he laughed pushed against your head. “Maybe later, hun.”

“So you do want kids?”

He grabbed you by the face and forced you to look back up at him. “Yeah, I’ve told you that before. I’ve said I want a daughter, and I want her to look like you, and I want to decorate her room and throw her birthdays, and go to all her school and sports events.”

“I want her to have your nose.” You admitted.

Tadashi started laughing and shaking his head. “No, no she will get bullied. Trust me I know.”

“No matter son or daughter, they should take Japanese lessons.” You added.

“Yeahhhh,” Tadashi breathed through his teeth. He knew enough Japanese to ask someone for very general directions. But the second a native speaker started talking a little too fast, all his comprehension skills started to deplete.

You could have kids in future years, when you had a shared place and both of you were done with school. Besides, it’s not like anything at all could break the two of you apart.

#baymax #big hero six #big hero 6 #tadashi hamada #hiro hamada #bh6 x reader #tadashi hamada x reader #hiro hamada x reader #disney #fanfic #napakmahal #baby fever

1K notes · View notes

bluerosefox · 6 months

Text

Our Strengths

"What do we do now? Tucker asked. His voice cracking with stress and worry as he stared at the scene before him not able to look away as his best friend and his family were being dragged out of their home.

Danny cuffed in anti-ghost cuffs and knocked the heck out with a ecto-gun pointed at his skull by one of the GIW agents, they eventually tossed Danny into their van that was parked right outside the Fenton Works. Jazz was pleading, begging them to let her brother go, even though she too was cuffed and not caring that another gun was at her back. Maddie was hissing like angry feral mama cat at the two agents, ignoring the other two that were holding her shoulders to keep her from squirming around and saying "you dare touch a single hair on my babies I will rip-" before she too was lead away to the GIW van. The last to come out was Jack and he looked haunted and stressed, and despite being a huge guy he was trying to make himself look small. He too was sent into the van, and one of the last things Tucker could see before the doors close was Jack kneeling down next to Danny and going to cradle him but being stopped by the GIW agent in the van.

Sam chewed on her lip, her eyes wide and wild as she tried to think of... well anything to save her friend and his family from this.

To think Vlad would be so petty after Danny finally told his parents about being Phantom and them accepting and loving him regardless and even apologizing for trying to hurt him that he would go and tattle to the GIW about Phantom.

Danny hadn't even told them about Vlad being a halfa either. Not even a bit. All Danny told them was that Vlad made him super uncomfortable. About how the guy seemed obsessed with his mom but seemed to be shifting his obsession to him.

And for once Jack listened, especially after Maddie finally told him the times the man flirted with her and had even tried getting her to leave Jack. With only Danny. No mention of Jazz, only Danny.

After that Jack turned papa bear mode.

Say what you will about Jack Fenton but his love for his family outweighs any kind of friendship.

So yeah Vlad finding himself being 'cut out' of the Fenton's lives, realizing the only times he could even get close to Maddie and Danny was because Jack was always welcoming to him, and finding out Jack point blank said he no longer wanted him around his family, he raged and decided to get back at Danny was to go tell the GIW about him being Phantom.

No doubt the creep was going to show up later, 'save' them and start making demands or indebt them to him.

And now here they were. The Fenton's, after being told about Phantom, were being unjustified hauled away by the GIW while all of Amity watches from the streets and despite the protest from, mostly teens, Amity Parkers no one could do anything with both weapons pointed at them or the 'law' decree.

Closing her eyes, Sam took a breath. When she opened them back up she finally looked away as the van and the rest of the GIW began to leave, her hands clutched so tight that her knuckles were turning a deadly white. When she finally released her grip she felt something in her hand.

Confused, Sam opened her hand and gasped as she recognized a familiarish green sticky note and words written in purple ink. She's never read any of the sticky notes CW would send Danny but she has seen them appear out of no where.

She read the note, ignoring Tuckers questioning, and once done she snapped her head to look at him. It was so fast that Tucker jumped for a second. Her eyes were alight with a new found kindle of hope, determination, and a plan.

"Sam? What is it?" Tucker finally asked once more, he had a feeling whatever she had in mind was going to be insane but if it sent by CW and meant to save his best friend he'd do it.

"We play into our strengths and get some help." She said as she brought the sticky note up for him to see.

"Help? From who?" Tucker asked as he took the note and instantly noticed the drawn symbols on the bottom. When he snapped his head back up to look at Sam his mouth fell open and he said in shock, awe, and disbelief "No. No way. Them? But I thought-"

"Gonna stop you right there Tucker. Remember what Dani told us last month? About that new under the radar teen hero group?" Sam cut in.

"OOoooh. Them.... Yeah I can totally get behind asking them over asking the adults." Tucker responded, his mind coming up with a plan as the sticky note words played into his head 'Use your strengths'

"Good we have no time to loose. I'll contact Dani to find out where we can find their base, you get ready to hack and find what you can so I can use it to help... persuade them into helping us."

-x-x-

Young Justice was having a normal, well as normal as a bunch of super-powered and very well trained teens could have day.

Or at least it was until their comms and entire system were hacked by an unknown hacker, a goth girl appearing on their main sceen and her saying this

"Hey, Young Justice right? Look I'll be blunt about this. We need help, our best friend and his family got taken by some shady government jerks that wanna experiment on him and we need to save them. It's a long story. However, we do not like the JL too much and don't trust them, we have our reasons, so to make sure you don't go crying to them, we're taking your systems hostage and blackmailing you with things our hacker found out." Her eyes narrowed at them, her face in a scowl and it left no room for negotiations at all, she was determined to get things her way "So that's the deal. Help us save our best friend and his family while not letting the JL know, and we let go of your systems and forget about what we found out."

555 notes · View notes

boldlyvoid · 9 months

Text

Neighbourhood Beauty

Spencer Reid x Fem Reader

Summary: Penelope is hosting Christmas at her apartment this year, she invites everyone... Including her new neighbour, who is exactly Spencer's type.

Warnings: flirting, love at first sight, kissing, making out, teasing, drunk bau friends, food mentions, Baker!Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

She was sad the whole journey home from work knowing that Christmas was tomorrow and she was going to be alone. As she gets into her apartment complex, she runs into her neighbour at the mailbox. She’s got 3 packages in her hands while trying to figure out how to carry the last two, “do you want help?”

“Oh, please?” She sounds so relieved. “What a blessing it is to see you today.”

She smiles for the first time in a few hours, “Oh, anytime Penelope. Are these all gifts?” She asks as she takes the two packages in her hands. She’ll come down for her own mail later. Nothing interesting should be in there.

Penelope nods, leading them towards the elevators. “I’m having a big holiday gathering tomorrow— wait, do you have plans, are you going home to see family?”

“No,” she admits, sadly. “I couldn’t get a plane ticket, I tried but they’re so insanely expensive lately.”

“Yeah, I know,” Penny sighs. “I haven’t gone out to see my brothers in years, they’re in California.”

“It sucks… but you have lots of friends here, right? I’m sure they’re coming over tomorrow?” She asks, mostly so she can feel some sort of comfort if she isn’t doing anything tomorrow either.

“I’m having Christmas here for the first time,” she shares. “Dinner starts at 6:30 but we’re having a little bit of everything for lunch around 2, if you want to stop by at any time?”

“Oh no, I couldn’t—

“You can, and you will!” Penelope insists. “You don’t need to worry about gifts or bringing any food, just show up. I hate the thought of you being alone next door.”

“Okay, I’ll come,” she gives in with a smile. “But I’m bringing a baked good… have you ever been to my bakery?”

“You own the bakery?” She’s so flabbergasted. “I thought you just worked there?”

She smiles, “I do… we do okay but I’m by no means rich enough to buy a plane ticket home.”

“Well, maybe that’s a good thing cause now I can eat whatever you bring tomorrow!”

—

She spends the whole night baking. She makes molasses cookies with powdered sugar on them in shakes of little Christmas trees and she makes chocolate croissants. One of which she brings to Penelope around 10 am so that she can have a nice breakfast before the party starts.

She showers, picks a cute outfit and by 3pm she’s anxiously waiting by the door trying to hype herself up to go over. She only knows Penelope. They’ve lived beside each other for 3 years now. She’s seen her friends coming and going and heard them talking in the halls but she’s never talked to them. But if they like Penelope, they’ve gotta like her too.

So she bucks up and heads over.

She knocks and within seconds, a handsome man is throwing the door open. “You don’t have to— oh, hi?”

“Hi… Penelope invited me? I’m her neighbour… Y/N,” she awkwardly introduces herself.

He’s at a loss for words— and breath, for a moment and then shakes himself out of it. “Spencer… Reid. Doctor… Doctor Spencer Reid.”

It makes her laugh, easing the anxiety out of her system. “Can I come in, Doctor Spencer Reid?”

“Yeah, yes, come in,” he steps out of the way and extends his arm into the room for her to follow. He closes the door after she’s inside and smiles. “How do you know Penelope?”

“I live next door.”

“Really?” He can’t believe it. “How long?”

“3 years now…”

“And you’ve never come over?” He looks offended.

She smiles, “Why, sad you haven’t known me longer?” She manages to tease him. She’s not always good at reading people but something about how he’s acting makes her think he likes her.

He blushes but nods, “Well, welcome. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“You too,” she looks him up and down. He’s very handsome. And a doctor… “how do you know Penelope?”

“We’ve worked together since I was 22…”

“And you’re now…?”

“42,” he presses his lips together, awkwardly. “Old…”

“No, no you’re not, I would’ve guessed 35 at the most,” she teases, stepping into his space, she places her hand on his arm. “You’re a very handsome 42.”

“Are you doing anything for New Years?” He asks, removing all his fear and looking at her with hopeful eyes.

She shakes her head, “no… I might be working but I can leave early, or you can come see me there?”

“Where do you work?”

“I own the bakery on 16th Avenue,” she smiles. “Penelope buys in donuts and things from me all the time, actually, I brought over baked goods this morning, they’re in the kitchen somewhere.”

“Did you make those croissants?” He lights right up.

She nods, “maybe I can teach you how to make some?”

“I’d really like th—

“Y/N!” Penelope comes running from the kitchen and wraps her arms around her, “When did you get here?”

“Just now,” she laughs. “Spencer’s been keeping me company.”

“Ahh,” she pulls away with a smile. “Well, come eat, there’s lots of snacks in here.”

She leads them into the kitchen where her other friends are around the table. “The ones with kids will be around later, they’re still putting batteries and things in their kid's gifts. But this is Rossi and Emily and Tara.”

She reaches out to shake everyone's hand, realizing only now that she never shook Spencer's, but he doesn’t mind, he stays close to her. They sit side by side, he passes her things from the table that she wants to put on her plate and he gets up to get her a drink and everyone makes conversation while also watching him dote on her. It’s been 20 minutes but there’s something there… no man has shown her this level of interest or flattery before and not to quote Lana Del Rey but, when you know you know.

They’re friendly as ever when there are people around them and they flirt like mad when they’re alone. She already has a date with him, but he’s just too cute and that shade of red he turns is starting to become her favourite colour.

“You seriously used all the ice?” Penelope chastises Emily, who pretends she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. “Go get some more, we have guests coming who don’t drink alcohol they need ice for their sodas!”

“I am far too drunk to walk down the street,” she counters and points to Dave.

“Not me,” Dave touches his nose, he doesn’t volunteer to do anything and Tara does the same thing, she’s just as drunk as Emily.

Spencer goes to get his coat with a sigh, “I’ve got it.”

“I’ll come too,” she rushes to the door with him, putting on whatever coat fits her so that she can follow him down to the street for some extra alone time with him.

She reaches for his hand on the street, “So, what’s it like at the FBI?”

He holds her hand gladly, “it's… okay. I just teach now. Fieldwork put me in the hospital too many times and I like being alive.”

“I’m glad you’re still here,” she bumps shoulders with him.

His smile is beautiful. “So, about that date?”

“We could do anything you want,” she assures. “But my offer still stands.”

“I think I’d like a baking lesson,” he nudges her back. “It's the one thing I’m not good at.”

“So what are you good at?”

“Rambling, falling over, getting shot,” he teases but she swats his arm, leaning into him with a laugh. “Okay, but seriously, I have a Ph.D. in Chemistry, Engineering and Math.”

“Well luckily for you, baking is just science and a bit of math,” she teases. “You’ll catch on quickly, smarty pants.”

He pulls her in, chest to chest, standing beside an empty store with all their lights off. He cups her face, “what’s sweeter? Your chocolate croissants or your kiss?”

She can’t help but laugh, “you’ll have to tell me…”

He pulls her in for a kiss and sparks fly behind her eyes. As if every atom in her being is on fire, she melts into him. Kissing him deeply, she holds his sides and the hand he has on her cheek goes into her hair as they begin to make out on the snow-covered street.

She pulls back first, smiling softly, “so?”

“You, it’s definitely you,” he teases. “But the croissants are a very close second.”

She laughs, “Well, keep up the compliments and there will be lots more kisses and sweet treats coming your way.”

“You’re the most beautiful woman in the neighbourhood,” he teases, leaning in for another kiss but she stops him.

“Just the neighbourhood?”

“The whole world,” he corrects, which is the right answer. She lets him lean in closer, stealing another kiss.

She kisses him again and again, trying to pull back but he kisses her a third time, making her laugh. “We need to get that ice, we’re going to be late for dinner.”

“do you want to hang out after dinner?” He asks, “I can walk you home?”

“And stay for more kisses?”

“Or croissants,” he shrugs. Happy with either.

—

They’re pretty normal for the rest of the party, she meets the rest of his friends and all their kids. And they’re some cute kids. The youngest is his friend Matt's 2-year-old, she sits at the grown-up table with them and eats one of the chocolate croissants with the biggest smile on her face. Y/N can’t help but think about how much her own kids might like her baking one day… and Spencer sees the way she looks at the baby too.

His friends are so lively, the the party goes on until well after midnight. The friends with kids head out early, Emily and Tara get a cab home, Dave is passed out on her couch and Spencer isn’t going to leave until she does. And she’s helping Penelope clean up.

“You don’t have to stay,” Penelope assures her, drying off dishes while Spencer washes them. She’s been putting things in Tupperware containers and organizing the fridge.

“I want to help, as a thank you,” she smiles at her. “This has been a lovely night.”

“And not just because I introduced you to your new boyfriend?” She teases and Spencer drops a plate.

She laughs, walking over to place her hand on Spencers arm, “I mean, meeting Spencer is the best present you could’ve given me.”

Penelope swoons, “Okay that’s it, love birds. Get out of my kitchen, go home, go canoodle and get to know each other. I knew this was going to happen.”

“Why didn’t you tell me in advance?” Spencer whines as he dries off his hands. “I would’ve worn something nicer?”

“You look cute,” she teases.

“See, that’s why,” Penelope points at her. “I knew she’d like you for you, she’s a baker and you love everything I buy from her bakery and she’s so kind and you need someone to love you the way I know you love people back. This is perfect.”

She wraps her arm around his waist and leans into his space, “thank you penny, we’re going to go now.”

“Thank you,” Spencer agrees, following her out of the kitchen and towards the door.

Once they’re in the hallway, he asks, “Did you really mean that?”

She nods, “of course?”

He lunges for her, kissing her with her back pressed up against her apartment door. She reaches for the doorknob, twisting it open so that she can bring them inside and push him up against the closed door instead this time. He moans into her mouth at the feeling of his back colliding with the door and her hands are immediately roaming his shirt.

He’s such a good kisser, he is gentle and soft, and he isn’t overly eager and controlling. He lets her explore and slow it down as she presses in closer to him and his hands wander to her hips.

“Couch?” She pants against his lips, wanting to lay down with him.

“Show me?” He agrees, following her into her apartment and to the living space.

She pushes him down against the couch and climbs on top of him. He wraps his arms around her, cradling her body like she’s the most delicate thing in the world. He kisses her just as soft and she moves her kiss to his cheek and his jaw up towards his ear, “you’re so handsome,” she whispers.

“Thank you,” he gasps. “You’re absolutely stunning, I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

She smirks against him, kissing down his neck, “You deserve good things, Spence.”

“You’re too good to me,” he teases, hand slipping down to her ass. “How far are we taking this?”

She hums, “I’m good just talking and kissing all night?”

“All night?”

She nods as she pulls back to look at him. “I kinda don’t want to let you go. I’m afraid you’re too good to be real.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he assures. “I’m yours as long as you want me.”

General Taglist

@ncsls0515 @stevesmunsons @reidsbookclub @sweetyyhippyy @manuosorioh @mrs-dr-reid @k-k0129 @squishyturtle @katsukis1wife @buckleyhans @mrs-ssa-hotch @ssavanessa22

#Spencer reid #Spencer reid smut #Spencer reid fanfiction #Spencer reid fanfic #Spencer reid imagine #Spencer reid x reader #Spencer reid x y/n #Spencer reid x you #Spencer reid self insert #Spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine

779 notes · View notes

hearts4chriss · 6 months

Text

Slice of Pizza.

Horny!Chris + Jake’s!little sister

prompt: your filming with ur brother Jake and the sturniolo triplets ur meeting for the first time, you and Chris had already been secretly talking behind their backs, he finally gets to meet you in person. After the videos over he offers to take you home and he can’t resist

Contains: public teasing, horny Chris, pet names (ma, mama, sweetheart??, baby, good girl, my girl, princess), m!oral receiving, unprotected sex ( wrap before u tap ), doggy , dirty talk, phat ass reader, creampie yktv

a/n- a lot of ppl wanted this one hope u like :)) ALL CREDS DUE TO ANYONE WHO INSPIRED ME ILYSM !! ( tags ran out )

fuck fuck fuck fuck

Today was the day.

My brother Jake and I were collaborating with the sturniolo triplets, and I was so so nervous.

The main reason is that I was talking too one of them, Chris sturniolo.

We’d been talking for a little over a month and I was actually gonna meet him, but the thing is.

His brothers and my older brother Jake have no idea we’ve been talking.

let alone how much of a freak he is, as well as I am.

We’ve sent each other, images and texts and said things but I was going insane over meeting this man.

I had decided to reach out to one of my brothers friends and ex Tara fucking yummy.

my baby💞🫂

Tara help me, yk how I’ve been talking to Chris?

I’m fucking meeting him tdy bc Jake and I are collabing w the triplets.

taraa💋

baby you’ll be okayyyy

he wants you so bad trust

Chris is gonna beg to fuck you js wait 😛😛

My cheeks grew a pink hue just thinking of that, it was obviously Chris is very attractive and I’d love to have him fuck the absolute shit out of me.

so there I sat in my room wearing this outfit praying too impress him.

A white mini skirt and a fitted skims crop tank pushing my tits up even more highlighting my figure as I threw a grey zip up over it.

I walked downstairs being greeted with my brother.

Finally, took all day. Jake rolled his eyes and I stuck my tongue out

shut up come on I wanna meet these kids. I chuckle and he raised an eyebrow at me but didn't utter a word as we hoped in the car and began driving too the location.

We got there pretty quickly and I thankfully hadn't seen a text from chris today which calmed my nerves, but it was until I saw him standing outside of my car along with matt and nick.

I quickly got out the car.

holy- shit. was all I could utter under my breath at the 3 same faced men.

Matt had tattoos which i'd always loved and he was fairly attractive.

Nick also had tattoos and he was absolutely adorable I could see us becoming close.

Chris.

The one of three i'd been "sexting" and oh my fuck he was so attractive.

He had a small stubble but not too much, his pink plump lips i'd been dying too kiss and lord the all grey- I could see his dick outline was he not wearing boxers??

wow kid ur short. Chris chuckled reaching in too give me a hug

hey baby, I finally get too meet your fine ass. He whispered low enough in my ear so I could feel a wetness grow in my panties seeping from my cunt.

Hey chris! we wanna hug her too! Nick rolled his eyes pulling me in for a hug.

ur so pretty holy shit- nick said softly and i smiled giving him a thank you.

Why am I last? Matt rolled his eyes playfully and I gave him a tighter hug than the rest.

Alright, can I have my sister back? My older brother basically emerged from his tesla and they all gave me a smile and we piled into the car as we pulled out foods from, McDonalds, a pizza place, Wendy's and more.

I sat in the passenger seat and Chris in the driver whilst nick matt and jake were in the back and he started the intro

“Hey guys welcome back to another video, this time I’m actually In my car, I’m joined by…”

Y/n Webber, the better sibling. I give the camera a wave and Jake rolls his eyes at me

“And also this collab was highly requested so…”

“Nick, Matt and Chris are with us today the sturniolo triplets!” As we all clapped for a bit.

"So today we are gonna be eating a bunch of our favourite foods and just talking and yeah that’s it!" I smiled.

"McDonald’s first?" Chris asked and everyone nodded as we each grabbed fries.

The video was super funny, Chris kept making me and everyone else laugh as well as nick and Matt attacking him it made the whole thing better. Until…

"Alright last thing?" I asked and everyone nodded

I opened the pizza box letting everyone grab a piece, I watched how Chris’s almost slipped so I helped him.

"They weren’t wrong, you are the clumsiest one". I let out a soft laugh and he rolled his eyes

"Yeah yeah". Chris chuckled and I held up the pizza for him as he looked me in the eyes, god I felt something. As he shook his head slowly trying to get a bite he managed to do so after about 7 seconds.

"Is it good bro? "Matt asked him and I let out a laugh as well as nick and my brother

"Shut up Matt". Chris spoke in a monotone and everyone laughed at that as if he wasn’t just fucking teasing me, so I decided to get him back.

"Guys it’s kinda hot-" I say unzipping my jacket Chris’s eyes follow my hand on the zipper

"Right I was gonna say".. Nick chuckles eating his pizza.

I take off my hoodie leaving my tank top as is my tits sitting perfectly upright and I noticed Chris’s eyes and I smirked continuing to eat my pizza occasionally licking the grease off my fingers looking him in the eyes.

Paybacks a bitch huh

little did I know, Chris was a fucking freak

"what did you say too my brother to even allow me to be alone with you". I let out a laugh and he chuckled pulling me onto the couch.

"Im good with words baby. He gave me a small wink before pulling me onto his lap for a kiss".

"Mmm this was well worth the wait". Chris mumbles in between kisses before grabbing my ass making me gasp as he slipped his tongue into my mouth as they played together.

He moved me on his lap, groaning as my clit rubbed on his growing boner.

"Fuck- I need ur mouth so bad" - Chris rested his head on my shoulder before tapping my ass signaling me to get up.

I got on my knees and leaned up pulling down his sweatpants along with his boxers watching his cock spring out and my eyes grow wide.

The length of it wasn’t even describable, let alone the girth, the tip was a dark pink and the veins going up the side had my panties dripping.

"you gonna suck me off or keep staring because I love the sight baby". Chris smirked biting his lip down at me and I wrap my hand around him and he moaned softly.

"baby.. please I need you- been waiting so long for you to do this" - he pleaded, almost in a whiny voice of need for me and I’d been waiting to do this.

I kiss his tip first before spitting on his cock stroking him and he throws his head back on the couch cushion.

I wrap my lips around his cock hollowing my cheeks as I began to suck him off sloppily and his hand gravitated towards my hair.

"oh fuck- just like that" - he moaned softly his eyes fluttering shut his mouth slightly agape as his chest heaved as he felt my plump lips wrap around him beginning to deep throat his dick

"oh shit ma- feels so fuckin good" - he shudders on his words as his eyes open looking down at me sucking his cock, the sound of my gagging on him were enough to make him squirm, Chris’s large hand on my head guiding me while running it in my hair.

Sucking Chris off was an experience I’d never forget and the fact I was making him feel so good whilst doing it only made my thighs clench together with anticipation, needing his cock buried inside me.

his hips occasionally thrusting allowing his tip to hit the back of my throat aggressively knowing I’d be sore tomorrow.

"F-fuckk love that pretty mouth on my dick" - he shudders when my nose presses against his lower abdomen as I deep-throat him having to hollow my cheeks due to his size.

Chris always told me he loved sloppy head and that’s exactly what I was giving him, salvia and his pre cum was running down my chin whilst spit bubbles formed on the corners of my mouth and my mascara was sweating off from the tears in my eyes.

"God you look so fucking pretty sucking me off baby" - he praised, breaths in between each word pulling on my hair slightly tighter as we made eye contact and he moaned at the sight.

"there’s my girl, keep ur eyes on me, wanna see that pretty face- shit" - Chris tried to maintain eye contact with me as best he could, but the way I was looking at him alone made him cum deep in my mouth filling it to the brim and a deep moan as he came.

Chris’s cum smeared along my lips as I swallowed it and getting up off my knees and he smiled.

"C’mere, I gotta stretch you out". Chris’s fingers pressed against my panties and I moaned softly at the touch and he chuckled.

"Hold on baby, you’ll thank me later, trust me". He smirked sliding two of his fingers inside my sopping cunt making me squeal.

"Shit Chris" - I moaned as he held me by my waist on his lap stretching me out for a bit.

"hold on ma, I don’t want you to get hurt". He kissed my cheek curling his fingers making me moan in his ear.

"You feel stretched out?" He rubs my back and I nodded

"I need words princess". Chris spanked my ass and I jolted.

"Yes yes! I do, please Chris- please fuck me" - I beg and he halts his movements sliding his fingers out of me.

"On all 4s for me and strip". He taps my ass and I do so getting on the couch pealing my panties and skirt off along with my tank top allowing me to be bare for him.

"Your so beautiful, gonna fuck this pussy so good" - he pulled his sweats down fully positioning himself behind me rubbing his cock between my folds making me whimper with frustration and his hand came down smacking my ass.

"Patience baby, such a needy girl". Chris shakes his head before gripping my hips pushing himself inside me making my back arch at the girth and sudden sharp pain from the stretch.

"Chris I-it’s not gonna fit" - I cry out and he massages my hip reassuringly.

"shh it’s okay just tell me when, take ur time". He whispered, I took some deep breaths as I felt my body finally adjust to him.

"Y-you can move now" - I sigh deeply and he holds my hips beginning to thrust slowly at first.

"Oh fuck- m’faster" - I moan peering behind my shoulder and he gives me a sly smile before picking up the paste making my jaw hang open as his hips came in contact harshly with my ass.

"shit- ur so tight ma" - Chris groaned his hands grip my ass occasionally letting go to give it a slap rubbing over the soft skin.

"oh god- ur so deep Chris" - i drop my head breathing heavily before he grips my hair thrusting harder.

"huh? I wanna hear that again". He holds his grip firmly waiting for me to respond as I’m dazed out on his cock.

"f-fuck! Your so- deep" - I moan in between words shuddering in his grasp as he releases his grip from my hair gravitating towards my hips again.

"that’s a good girl" - Chris praised rutting his hips into mine, the sound of our bodies connecting and my moans and heavy breathing along with his filled the empty room creating a sex aroma

"shit Chriss" - I dragged out moaning as he arched my back making his cock reach depths I don’t think we’re possible before he paused.

"W-what are you doing?!" I whimper in frustration and he shushed me.

"I wanna watch you fuck yourself on my cock can you do that for me?" He whispers into my neck, tickling my skin, his raspy voice going to my core.

I positioned myself on my forearms arching my back beginning to move my hips back and forth on his dick and he moaned in response holding my hip for comfort.

"fuck- keep throwing that shit back on me ma" - Chris shuddered, biting his lip at the sight, my moans shooting to his throbbing cock as well as my moans fueling his ego and filling his ears

"fuckk yes- feels so good- I cried out". clenching my fists at the pleasure and the angle his dick was hitting, the tip feeling on my g spot made me shake each time.

Chris was in heaven, just the sight of this could've made him cum inside me.

"shit- there you go baby- love that ass" - he lets out a deep groan laying a smack across my cheeks making me squeal as he rubs over the soft skin as I continued fucking myself on his cock, picking up the pace, our breathing syncing picking up.

"oh shitt- yes yess!" I squirm and shake ever so slightly as his tip kisses my most sensitive spot.

"Looks like I found it". He mumbles to himself before grabbing my hips beginning to thrust his own into mine making my jaw hang open whilst only heavy breathing comes out

"shit- fucked you speechless?" He lets out a breathy moan and I can’t help but mimick his actions because he quite literally fucked me speechless.

"God you take me so well" - sound so pretty on my cock- he lays a harsh smack to my ass making me squeal out as I close my walls around him.

"Chris I-I’m gonna cum" - I turn my head to the side seeing his facial expression as my breath picks up fists clenched as his hand rubs my clit.

"come on baby give it to me" - he praises his fingers play with my pussy overstimulating it as I cried out Chris’s name repeatedly until I creamed his cock.

He pulls out painting white ropes on my back giving me a second to catch my breath.

"You okay?" Chris pants pulling me onto his lap.

"yeah I’m okay- that was- well worth it". I smile pushing the hair sticking to his forehead away.

All over a slice of pizza huh.

Shut up Chris. I roll my eyes as he presses kisses to my shoulder

@mattsleftnipple03 @bernardsleftbootycheek @sturniolopowers @gdsvhtwa @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @worldlxvlys @chrisslut25 @princessbetsy123-blog @mattslolita @guccifrog @blahbel668 @mattsneezing @trickywritters @hearts4chris

@nonamegirlxsturniolo @luvmxtt @theyluv-meee @hoesformatt @luv4kozume @kikisturnioloo @itzdarling @pepsiimaxx @babyddolly @iiheartstef @junnniiieee07 @vicsguitarr @ast3ro1dzz @sturniolowhore @st7rnioioss @emma4eva @braindead4l @ihearttsyouu @kqyslyho3 @imaslut4kehlani @sturnsfav @sunsetsturniolos @sturniololoverr @gamermattsgf @lilyloveschris @dlyansworld @chrisloyalgf @soimightlikeoldmen69 @abbie13sworld @ineedchriscock @sturniol0s @luhsexcbihh @nicksmainbitch @rubyjaneaxx @love4chris @hysteria-things

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #hearts4chriss #neveahandchris4life

977 notes · View notes

milswrites · 6 months

Text

I'll Crawl Home to You

~ Azriel X Reader

Summary: After barely escaping his last mission, Azriel realizes he has one regret in life. Not telling you about the undying love which he held for you. His brush with death allowing him to realize that he can't live another day without you by his side, Azriel wastes no time in telling you exactly how he feels.

Warnings: Angst. Talks of death and injuries. Nice cute ending though :)

Azriel had always assumed that when the time came for death to greet him, he would welcome them like an old friend.

Gladly taking the specter's hand and allowing them to guide him to the afterlife, satisfied with the centuries of a blessed life he had been gifted by the Mother.

Azriel had never feared death. Instead he imagined that when the sweet embrace of darkness finally surrounded him, he would be able to rest at last. A mercy that he could finally be at peace, no worries crossing his mind as he knew that one day his brothers would also join him in whatever afterlife he was sent to.

Which is why he couldn't understand why he was panicking now as death's black cloak began to wrap around him. Rather than the warming comfort he had always imagined it would hold, the incoming blackness felt bitterly cold. Like his body had begun to freeze over like a lake in winter, the last dregs of his life being sucked from him.

Azriel found himself fighting back. His weak hand outstretched as he attempted to push away the approaching claws of death which were slowly advancing. Teeth grit together with effort as he tried to ward them off.

"No" the desperation in his hoarse voice was palpable, words catching in his throat as he flinched away from the foreboding figure of darkness. A painful spasm tearing through his body, originating from the wound on his chest where an unwelcome dagger had found its home.

"No i'm not ready yet please. Please don't take me . . . No please!"

His speech was slurred, vision dotted with masses of growing black spots. Yet Azriel didn't allow his hold on reality to slip for a single second. Not if it meant dying.

Not if it meant never seeing you again.

And so he resisted death's sweet siren song, too stubborn to allow himself to give in.

"I will not die today."

Azriel hissed the words through his pain. His fierce amber eyes meeting the cool sharp gaze of death's.

A gaze so intense that Azriel was sure it was enough to drive anyone to insanity. The well of darkness which swirled in death's icy orbs was never-ending. Azriel allowed himself to swim in them deeper and deeper, searching for a way to escape from their clutches. Following the glistening golden rope which shimmered enticingly, as though begging Azriel to take hold of it, promising that life would be at the other end of it.

It was agony. Sharp spikes of pain coursing through him as his limbs grew heaver and heavier the deeper he dived, skin beginning to burn and blister as a feverish sweat settled on his uncomfortable skin.

But Azriel didn't let up. Never lessening his grip on the golden rope. Allowing his memory of you to give him strength in the face of his adversity.

He never let go. Not even when death itself began to fight back.

Terrible visions of the horrors of his past appeared before him as he swam. Bubbles which contained the callous faces of his half-brothers floated by his face. Sinister smiles upon their lips as they stared at Azriel, deaths alluring voice slipping from their lips, "Come now Azriel, don't fight it. The rope leads to nothing. Let go. Close your eyes, I've got you. You can rest now."

Yet Azriel didn't look to the floating forms of his cruel brothers. He kept his stern gaze ahead, chasing after the end of the rope. Chasing after you.

It was almost as if you were there. If he squinted hard enough he could see your ethereal form at the end of the tunnel, a gentle hand held out for him to take.

It wasn't death. He knew that much. Your glowing figure radiated life, the promise of a future.

There at the end of the golden rope was you. Patiently waiting for him to greet you so you could return him to the land of the living. You were his salvation. You had come for him.

He allowed himself to become deaf to the enticing whispers of death. Continuing his pursuit forwards, towards you, leaving the dark memories of his past behind as he turned his full attention to swimming towards his future.

His scarred hand reaching out towards yours, the tips of his fingers brushing against your soft palm as he connected your hands. Entwining your fingers as he used the warmth you radiated as an anchor.

And then instead of darkness, there was only light.

~~~~~

Soft whispers stirred Azriel from his slumber. Through his closed eyelids, Azriel could see the sweet familiar orange glow of sunlight. The heat of which warmed his skin, energy flowing through his body as though the sun was replenishing his source. Enabling him to slowly flutter his eyes open, sight focusing on the blurred figure in the chair next to him.

Azriel rushed to sit up, Cassian's steady hands shooting out to stop his erratic movement, hushing the shadowsinger as he helped to rest him up against the pillows on the bed.

"Careful," Cassian grinned, pleased to see his brother awake, yet his smile did nothing to hide the concern which failed to leave his eyes, "you had us all worried for a moment there Az. We thought-" Cassian's voice broke as he swallowed back a cry, ". . . We thought we'd lot you."

"How did I get. . .? Y/N. She found me!"

Azriel struggled to put together the pieces of what happened after he was stabbed.

There was darkness, an impending sense of doom, and then a sudden burst of light. But there, somewhere in between his jumbled memories, Azriel had seen you. He was sure of it.

"Y/N?" Cassian questioned, brows furrowing in confusion as his concerned gaze swelled deeper, "They weren't there Az. You travelled here with your shadows. Gave me a fright, you appeared right in front of me covered in blood and barely breathing."

"No. . ." Azriel murmured, that couldn't have been right. He saw you. He was sure of it.

"They came to visit you a few times once Madja had you stable. Maybe you're thinking of that?" Cassian reasoned, trying to reassure himself more than Azriel, preying to the cauldron that his brother hadn't gone senile.

"Yeah" Azriel lied, flashing his brother a crooked smile to soothe his worries, "Yeah you're probably right."

No amount of convincing from his brother would allow Azriel to believe anything else other than the fact that you were there to save his life. To bring him home.

But if Cassian was somehow right . . . If you really hadn't been there. Then that meant Azriel had dreamt about you. This wasn't a new occurrence, there were many nights where Azriel welcomed the sweet embrace of sleep so only to see your smiling face in his dreams. Yet his mind, in what could have been his final moments alive, thought only of you.

Of your beauty and grace. Of your welcoming nature and the sense that in finding you, Azriel was home, even when death had came to claim his soul in the wilderness of Illyria.

He liked that. The knowledge that his home wasn't a place, but a person. That wherever he was, he need only to think of you and he can allow himself to be happy.

Though despite this realization, Azriel found that he couldn't be happy. Not when he had felt this strongly about you for years and had just almost died without confessing this to you.

Nausea crawled up his throat at the prospect that he had almost left this world without knowing if you felt the same way about him as he did you. Angry at himself for pining after you for so long and making no move to show you his the true nature of his emotions.

He had been a silent admirer. Yet Azriel found himself wanting to be silent no longer.

"Did you say they were here?" he rushed the words out, the intensity of his question causing the General to sit back in shock, "where are they now?"

"Uh, I think they went to their room for a bit. I told them I'd watch over you for a bit."

Azriel wasted no time in jumping up from underneath the covers. Having learnt firsthand how precious his time really was, he wouldn't allow himself to wait another second without telling you of his devotion.

So he ran, blind to the flash of pain which coursed from his still tender wound. Unable to feel the uncomfortable twinge in his chest due to the heavy pounding of his heart.

Azriel felt no nerves nor anxiety. He was driven by his need to speak to you. A confidence settling in his heart that this was right - that everything was happening the way it was supposed to.

Every step closer to your bedroom was a step closer to his home.

So consumed by his desire to see you, Azriel neglected to knock as he entered your room. Wild eyes searching your chambers until they finally landed on your shocked expression.

~~~~~

"Oh cauldron Az, you're alright!"

A cry of relief tore from your mouth, as you closed the distance between you and the male, gently throwing your arms around him, careful not to embrace him too tightly for fear of upsetting his wound.

But Azriel didn't care. Not when he had you in his arms. So he pulled you tighter and tighter to his chest, until he could feel the gentle beat of your heart alongside his own. Needing reassurance that you were real. That he really was alive.

Once you had basked in each other's presence for long enough you pulled away, hands clasping his biceps as you moved him back to allow yourself to cast your eyes over him, ensuring that the male was actually ok.

"Should you even be out of bed? Az you need to rest!"

You made to pull him towards your own bed so he could lie down, but Azriel stopped you, holding your hand tightly to prevent you from moving from where you were stood.

"I've rested long enough" he stated with a shake of his head, consuming gaze meeting your own.

"Azriel you almost died" you argued, amazed that the male was even standing.

"I think I did die" Azriel replied, his words being enough to silence you, silvery tears lining your eyes at the thought of you almost loosing the shadowsinger.

"I think" he repeated not wanting to confirm the words which he knew out of fear of upsetting you, "I saw them. Death. They wanted to take me but . . . I couldn't let them. So I fought back. I fought and fought until I saw you. You saved me Y/N."

"Me?" you gasped in disbelief. You had heard the tales of warriors who had narrowly escaped death, swearing that they had seen the gracious form of the Mother as they were brought back to life. Yet none of them ever claimed to see a person who was real.

"I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you" he concluded. If it weren't for your captivating presence drawing him towards you Azriel would have drowned in the inky orbs of death.

"I couldn't" tears had now began to fall from Azriel's own eyes, silver pearls trailing down his cheeks, "I couldn't leave. Not without seeing you again. Not without saying goodbye. It's all I could think about."

A sob broke from your lips, amazed that Azriel's last thoughts before death were only of you.

"I didn't care how badly wounded I was" he spoke truthfully, hands still clinging onto yours as if they were a lifeline, "They could have stolen my wings. Taken my sanity. Broken my spirt. But none of that would have made a difference. None of that would stop me from crawling home to you. No amount of ropes and chains could hold me back, not when it meant seeing you on the other side."

It was impossible not to feel an overwhelming surge of love at the sincerity of his words. At the desperation which flooded in his eyes, begging you to believe him. Pleading for you to feel the same way.

"My love for you knows no bounds. Life or death, you are always with me, and I will never fail to find you" he promised. Certain that if he could conquer death with only the desire to be at your side, he would be able to fight anything.

"You did it Az" you beamed, hands dropping his only to come and rest on his dampened cheeks, "You came home to me. Our love transcends all worlds. Heaven, hell, purgatory, we'll find each other in every single one of them I promise. Because I am never letting you go again."

You couldn't. Not when you had already almost lost him. You would never lose Azriel again. Yet you could be happy with the thought, that if the situation were to ever happen again, that you could be his guiding beacon. Leading Azriel back to you. Leading him back home.

#acotar #fanfic #acotar imagine #sarah j maas #a court of thorns and roses #azriel x reader #azriel imagine #azriel #azriel oneshot #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar

530 notes · View notes

boiohboii · 1 year

Text

Protective girl (Charles Leclerc x reader)

Inspires by @charles-eclair16 's fic

When fans go too far, yn wants to protect the one treasure in her life

in which we finally get to see the roles reversed

N.B: this is been in my drafts for so long, omg! Let me know what you guys think!! WARNING: not proof read, some swear words, might have messed up a date, don't focus on any dates mentioned, this is all fictional anyways. Hope you guys like it

masterlist

Liked by Arthur_leclerc, carlossainz55, pierregasly and 1,379,064 others

itsmeyn: charles always goes above and beyond for every single fan of his, he tries to take as many pictures and sign as many autographs as possible, but what happened last night was a fucking joke. He doesn't like what I'm writing cause he says that it was just a mistake and that it was fine, but it really isn't, it's so disrespectful and disgusting! He always wants to meet his fans and make them happy only to receive this insanity, him falling AND HURTING HIMSELF because some of you can't fucking wait and be organized like a human being! Charles isn't an animal in a zoo where you race to pet him! He is a human being, he is a son, a brother and a boyfriend! This wasn't just an accident, i have seen these 6 girls multiple times in multiple places! it's so obsessive and so so sick of you to follow him everywhere.... Charles won't speak up because he is Charles and he lives seeing the good in people, but I will tear everything and everyone for his safety, so for you 6 girls you will be hearing from court soon so better prepare a good lawyer you assholes!

Comments on this post have been disabled.

Liked by leclercboy, ynistheitgurl, fuckferarri and 91,739 others

F1_updates_live: Charles Leclerc's girlfriend, YN LN, seen today arriving in front of the UK's courthouse in a red SF9 Ferarri. It had been quite a week for YN as she was seen hitting a fan after the said fan pushed Charles. YN took this fan and 5 others to court, no one knows on what bases but what has come out is that she has won the case which means that Charles and YN have restraining orders against the group.

username: OHH HEEEELLL YEAAAAAHH

username: yn doing God's work

username: yn serving justice

username: that's what we needed

username: hot girl shit

username: the car and suit combo is so fucking hot of her

username: I think this is too much, like these girls just wanted to see Charles

username: @.itsmeyn can we make them 7?

username: another one

Liked by Charles_leclerc, danielricciardo, pierregasly and 617,829 others

itsmeyn: don't blame me, love made me crazy

username: YN IS A FELLOW SWIFTIE?!?!?

username: if I had a nickel for everytime yn and I had something in common I'd have 2 nickels, which is not a lot but it's weird that it's happened twice

username: now I just want her to watch all the charles edits done with a taylor song

itsmeyn: who says i already don't 🌚

username: and I oop-

username: THIS IS THE SWEETEST AND CRINGIEST SHIT EVER!

Liked by wolfffam, maxverstappen1, lance_stroll and 817,629 others

itsmeyn: congratulations to my baby, the love of my life, you deserve it and so much more ♥️♥️

username: FINALLY!!

username: idk how to react, ferarri has let us down too many times that all I know is lose

username: I don't see how he deserves it tbh, all of his results are shit for quite a while , he's only where he is cause he's driving a ferarri 🤷‍♂️

itsmeyn: oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know you were the one in a formula one car, in a ferarri, that by the words of many professionals is at its worse era. I don't care about you and your opinion but don't state it as a fact, no one can do better with these strategies. I hate to keep saying this but when your own fucking team doesn't have the same dream as you it turns to shit. Even if charles is the only one in the car, it's still a team sport, not a one man sport. Fuck you and your tiny ass brain that can never survive one lap in a formula one car, it'll probably explode cause of all the bullshit in it before the first lap anyway. So next time you wanna talk shit maybe try to do fifth of who you're criticising is doing, I bet that'll shut you up real quick you dimwit.

Liked by leclercpascale, pilotesofmonaco, tswiftyn, and 52,719 others

F1_updates_live: YN LN, Charles' long time girlfriend, seen today fighting Xavi in Bahrain due to his mistake on the radio which resulted in Charles losing his podium position.

username: good for her

username: charles is so lucky

username: I love how she always stands up for him

username: honestly, whenever charles or carlos ignore the strategies they win... I really wanna see more of that.

username: this is just Monaco 2024 GP all over again, yn was so fucking furious (rightfully so) cause Xavi's mistake costed charles a p1 in his home race.

username: this shit was so heartbreaking man

username: I think this was the first time we ever saw yn angry at sabotaging charles, like the most we saw was her holding his hand when crossing the street, making sure he eats first, playing with his hair when nervous, but I've never seen yn make someone literally cry until 2024 with Xavi being her victim

username: pffft, victim, he 100% deserved it

username: oh yeah, definitely. All my homes hate Xavi, like can you not say the strategy properly 😒

#f1 social media au #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 smau #charles leclerc #f1 #charles leclerc fluff #charles x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc one shot #charles x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles x yn #charles leclerc smau #charles leclerc social media au #charles leclerc instagram au #charles leclerc twitter au

3K notes · View notes

rarepears · 8 months

Text

A nearby country just had a new monarch ascend the throne. Cang Qiong, as was the norm, was invited to pay their respects to the new monarch, reaffirm the standing alliance between cultivators and mortals (which pretty much boiled down to cultivators kill evil things, mortals stay out of cultivation affairs plus some trade agreements), and ensure that the previous monarch's soul wasn't still lurking around the palace as a ghost. You know, the standard stuff.

So Yue Qingyuan didn't think much when he sent the usual delegation of Shen Qingqiu (to handle the political negotiation and come back with observations of the new Emperor), Shang Qinghua (trade agreements), and Qi Qingqi (to talk with the court ladies and government official wives for the gossip).

The last thing he expected was for the new Emperor to recognize Shen Jiu as the little brother who went missing when the previous Emperor - the new Emperor's paternal uncle, from what Yue Qingyuan understood - undertook a military coup to secure the throne.

---

When Shen Yuan finally killed his super fucking evil tyrant uncle who had been sending a million assassins after Shen Yuan and his (unfortunately now dead) brothers, he got saddled with the throne. He knew that was going to happen! It was something he wasn't asking for, but it was either regain the throne or let his uncle finally succeed in killing him, the rightful Emperor, off. It was pretty shitty that his first month in this new world involved surviving a military coup in the palace where his new dad was murdered by his new uncle for the throne. If Shen Yuan thought being transmigrated into a body that drowned in the pond because of some harem politics for the crown prince position was bad, well, his life got a whole lot fucking worse.

But things were over. He was crowned emperor, had a million super tight best friends all high up in his government backing him, and even the cultivators were recognizing his reign as the legit one, so he was all fine.

Right??

NO! Because why the fuck was he just realizing now that his second life was actually taking place in PIDW and why the fuck was that Shen Qingqiu and the Cang Qiong delegation??? Like, he was busy living on the streets and plotting to retake the throne, sure, but how could he had missed that Cang Qiong was that Cang Qiong!?

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Where in the PIDW plot line was he in now? How far along is Shen Qingqiu busy torturing the protagonist and how much longer does Shen Yuan even have to rule his country before the protagonist comes to conquer? How the fuck is he going to stop the plot from continuing - how is he going to remove Shen Qingqiu from the plot?

Shen Yuan isn't proud to admit it, but he rolls with the first shitty idea that pops into his head.

He claims that Shen Qingqiu is his missing younger brother - he had like three dozen of them to be honest, his second life's dad was one horny motherfucker - and tries to keep Shen Qingqiu from going back to Cang Qiong under all sorts of familial pretenses.

Shen Yuan is sure that Cang Qiong is merely humoring his insanity by letting Shen Qingqiu go along with it all, having "family dinners" and making small talk while being careful to skirt around any true political talk, but his plan hasn't backfired on him yet.

YET.

He's sitting on this ticking timebomb and Shen Yuan might be in his 40s but he still feels like the same stupid 20 something year old writing 5k word diss reviews on PIDW chapters some days. If only he had a system to help guide him out of his own mess.

(Meanwhile Shen Jiu: I HAVE AN OLDER BROTHER WHO LOVES ME???? but I'm still sus about his motives. I will reluctantly allow him to shower me in presents and praises and spend time with him to investigate more.)

#svsss #svsss au #svsss ideas #shen qingqiu #shen jiu #mxtx #shen yuan #scum villain's self saving system #shen yuan is emperor and claims that shen qingqiu is his missing younger imperial brother AU

767 notes · View notes

verycoolusername1 · 24 days

Text

My Honey Bee

Summary: In which you were a dream came true in the eyes of Luke Hughes.

Luke Hughes x gn!reader

Genre: Fluff

Warning: mentions of underage drinking(not reader and luke), terrible flirting(I'm very single, cut me some slack)

A/N: Ehehehehehe Espresso just be stuck in my head whenever I listen to it, so enjoy this(and a massive ego boost that I did not plan for) :)

If you catch my shadow and bone reference, I love you tons.

Luke has been at the bar for two hours now, or at least Luke thinks he has. He's been glancing at you since the team got there, celebrating their win. When he saw you walk through the doors, he swore his heart stopped with his breath caught in his throat.

The team were immerse in their conversation till Dougie noticed Luke staring off into the distance.

"Looks like someone caught Lukey boy's attention." He whispered to the others.

"Hey, Lukey boy! You good?" Jack nudged his shoulder.

Luke pulled his eyes away from you and looked back at his team, who were all staring at him.

"Hm yeah yeah I'm fine." Luke muttered. "Fine."

"I don't think so." Nico pointed out.

"Yeah, you've been eyeing this stranger all night. Just go and talk to them." Jack urged.

Luke's eyes widened as he looked at his brother then the rest of their team all nodding their head.

"What? Are you insane?" Luke exclaimed. "I couldn't, no!"

"You need to have more faith in yourself. Just go to them and be yourself." Nico encouraged.

"Easy for you to say." Luke rolls his eyes.

"That's because it is easy." Jack chuckled.

Luke sighed as he looked back to where he last saw you, and when you weren't there, he swore he was dying. That was until he felt a tap on his shoulder.

Luke turned around, and his breath got stuck in his throat. It was you, you was standing right in front of him. You looked pretty, beautiful, gorgeous even. There wasn't a single word Luke could use to describe you. You were just all of them combined.

"Hi," you said warmly, Luke swore he was melting.

He sat there staring into your eyes, hearing the snickers of some of his team before he realized he needed to reply.

"H-Hi," Luke stammered, clearing his throat.

You chuckled at his awkwardness before offering your hand.

"Want a drink?" You gestured to the bar where you had been sitting prior.

"I would love to!" He replied rather quickly. "I just- uh can't drink yet."

"I figured." You slowly started to smile. "I was just gonna get us some water."

Luke's face flushed in embarrassment. "Right then uh yeah let's go."

Luke shakily took your hand, and you led the two of you to the bar where you sat next to each other.

You ordered two glasses of water before a silence was laid upon you two.

Luke spoke up. "I'm sorry."

You turned your head to him in confusion, and he noticed that and continued.

"For tonight." He clarifies. "I've been watching you all night, I just couldn't help myself. You were just so captivating- wait no that sounds creepy. I swear I'm not a stalker-"

You had started to laugh. He knew instantly he wanted to bottle up the sound and keep it with him wherever he went. One question came to mind, Why were you laughing?

"What-what's so funny? I'm apologizing for being weird and you're laughing." Luke looked at you in surprise.

"Sorry, sorry it's just-" You calmed down. "I know you have been. It was endearing."

"Wait so you aren't creeped out?" Luke asked.

"Why do you think I went to you and not any of your friends?" You sipped on your drink.

Luke stayed silent, studying your question.

"You're- You're into me?" He spoke in a low whisper.

"What would you do if I was?" You replied in the same tone.

"I would ask for your number and most definitely your name." Luke chuckled. "I'm Luke."

"Y/N." You took Luke's phone and typed your number in and sent a text.

"That's a nice name." Luke said before realizing he said that aloud. "Sorry! I thought I said that in my head. Gosh why am I so stupid-"

You kissed him on his cheek, caughting him off guard. Your lips felt soft against his face, he loved the feeling. He loved your touch. He wanted more- He craved it.

#luke hughes #nhl #nhl hockey #nhl imagine #nhl players #verycoolusername1 #jack hughes #new jersey devils #nico hischier #luke hughes fanfic #luke hughes fanfiction #luke hughes fic #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes x reader

270 notes · View notes

seeingivy · 3 months

Text

water lillies

ryomen sukuna x f!reader

**part of my best friend's older brother fic

previous part linked here

an: two chapters back to back. also the last one :'(

sukuna realizes that repetitive phrases help him in the year that follows. that no matter how dangerous it feels, the feeling of hope is one that he has to keep in his chest, regardless of his track record of horrendously horrible bad luck.

he’s not going to die tomorrow. yuuji’s perfectly healthy. he’s going to replace the plastic finger on your ring with a real one someday. you’re all going to live very long lives.

there’s a nervous anticipation, an excited one simmering in his chest, as picks up the little tray of drinks – two strawberry matchas, an iced coffee, and a scone – as he takes it back to the table, where the group of them are waiting.

“what took you so long?” sammy asks.

“you’re so impatient.” sukuna responds, handing the drinks over to the moms and sammy, before splitting his scone in half and handing it over to yuuji.

“i’m working on that.” sammy grates, giving him an irritated look.

sukuna smiles.

sammy was working on that, after he had very graciously given her the number to his therapist after she called him crying asking for it.

it seemed that sammy had one too many fights with you, hurt mai one too many times, and realized that she was finally ready to let go of lifetime of hurt that she had accrued. anger issues, impatience, and the insurmountable amount of aching that always seemed to take residence in her chest was on its way out.

with his help. and with yours, even if you didn’t know about it entirely.

“wait, where’s y/n?” yuuji asks.

sukuna smiles.

“she has class.”

“oh.” yuuji responds.

sukuna watches as the confusion contorts in his face, albeit, the strange nature of the gathering catching him off guard. both of the moms, sammy, and yuuji were called here for an early morning rendezvous at what might be the only good cafe in their town – play coffee.

and sukuna would have waited to schedule this for when you were free, if he didn't have something important to ask all of them. a question that you couldn’t necessarily be present for.

“okay. i’m not treating you all to coffee for no reason.” sukuna states.

“i fucking told you. he would never be this nice.” sammy whispers over to yuuji, the two of them nodding at one another.

“you’re so kind, sammy. you have such a way with words.” sukuna deadpans.

“i live to please.” she resopnds.

“is everything okay?” mrs. itadori asks.

sukuna smiles, before reaching over to squeeze her open hand.

three months prior, his mom was the last person on the very long list of people that he deserved an explanation too. even more than deserved an explanation – but another person who just deserved to know why he left, what he had been through.

satoru and suguru had taken it really well, satoru offering him one second of seriousness to very earnestly tell him that he was very happy that sukuna had stayed long enough for the two of them to become friends. nanami had shared his own experiences – the two of them being intrinsically closer than before from their shared past – and shoko responded by giving him gummy bears and a hug, which meant more to him than she could really understand.

it shattered lots of things for yuuji, something that he felt insanely guilty about – for not catching on to all of it sooner. but sukuna could also tell that it had done something for the two of them, to talk about something, whatever it was that they went through together as they were kids, and it only made him love him more.

and his mom. for the first time, after a very earnest scolding about parenting and responsibility from your mom, was worried about him. he found it a little bit overbearing at times, the way she would call and remind him at night that she loved him very much and that he was her entire world – but the thought was there. and on the days that he found it hard to quiet the voices in his head, it really did make all the difference.

to hear you remind him. and his mom and yuuji, sammy and everyone else in between.

“it’s great. i just have to ask for your permission for something, that’s all.” sukuna murmurs.

sukuna watches their faces drop. he realizes after the fact that it was a bad choice of words – especially for his mom – when they were the exact ones that he used before he left for europe.

“i’m not moving.” sukuna clarifies.

“oh thank god.” his mom responds, dramatically pressing her hand to her chest as he rolls her eyes.

he looks over at the four of them, a simmering warmth in his eyes, as he takes in the looks on their faces. and it seems that in his delay, the most perceptive of the group, has figured out what’s happening all too fast.

“oh my god. you’re going to do it, aren’t you?” your mom murmurs.

“what?” sammy asks.

“you…you’re going to propose?” she asks.

“what? you’re going to propose? to y/n?” yuuji asks, his voice almost frantic.

“YOU GUYS ARE GETTING MARRIED?” his mom squeals, so loud that it earns her a wary look from everyone else in the store.

sukuna winces as he lifts his hands, beckoning for the group of them to lower their voices, as he reaches into his pocket and places the little green box at the center of the table. sammy’s the first to snatch it, eyes wide and filled with tears as she opens it up, to the little circular cut diamond, set into the golden band that he had picked out almost a year prior – the second you got home from the trip he went on for his birthday.

he had been holding on to it for a better part of the year. and it was finally time to use it. he was paranoid that he would never get to replace the plastic ring that he gave you, so he figured that he’d buy the real one as soon as he could – just as another solace to himself that he would actually get to do it.

“wait. you’re really going to propose to her?” sammy whispers.

“i am. with all of your permission, of course.” sukuna states.

he watches as they all give him bright smiles, before reaching forward and placing their hands on his.

“oh, sukuna. of course, you can marry my daughter.” your mom responds, giving him a bright smile

“holy shit. you’re actually going to be my brother.” sammy states.

“that’s if y/n says yes.” mrs. itadori states.

sukuna gives her a glare.

“what a vote of confidence, mom.” sukuna deadpans.

“they already wear those plastic rings all the time. they literally think they’re already married in their heads. don’t be annoying, mom.” yuuji responds, huffing an irritated sigh at her as she rolls her eyes back.

sukuna takes that as a vote for yes.

“i’m obviously joking. the two of you have no sense of humor.” mrs. itadori responds.

sukuna turns his head to the side, eyes expectant as he waits for his mom to give a proper response, noting that phenomenon – of getting so emotional that the feelings get crumpled up in your throat is one that he gets from his mom – as she reaches forward, a warm hand on his shoulder as she squeezes.

“this is all i’ve ever wanted for you. not only because she’s my best friends daughter, but because…well, it’s all you deserve, my sweet boy.” she murmurs.

he watches as him mom turns her head to the side, shooting an excited smile to your mom, as he notes that the wedding gears are probably turning in both of their heads just from that shared glance.

“i’ll need a favor from all of you. two from yuuji and sammy.” sukuna states.

sukuna smiles, before pulling out the little envelope in his pocket, the four of them giving him weary eyes as he opens it up.

“whatever you need, son.” your mom responds.

sukuna memorizes that line – the way that she said it – and commits it to memory.

“you’ll all have to meet us in france first.”

you and yuuji accompany megumi to the tattoo parlor as he gets his first set of ink. it’s a special design that yuuji drew out for him, a set of constellations that the two of them had charted together on one of their first dates together.

the tattoo parlor still smells the same as you remember it, bright designs printed on the wall and neon lights, as you take in the little room – the magnets on the fridge and the little frames on toji’s desk. you note that there’s a picture that you took a few months prior, of tsumiki and megumi standing next to him.

“hi toji.”

you watch as he looks up from his little work station, his tools and guns meticulously organized, as he taps the seat in the middle, giving megumi a bright smile.

“right here, kid.”

after the funeral, you had finally found the time to reconcile with megumi about what happened on your birthday. the two of you got dangerously drunk, talking about deadbeat dads and everything in between, before yuuji and sukuna had to drag you out of there on your ass.

about how your dad forgot you. about how megumi had never talked to his own. about how when they both left, how your moms spoke so little of them that you almost felt like they were ghosts of nothing. and that on most nights, you were filled with such a deep curiosity – of who they were, of what could have been.

when yuuji dragged the two of you out of there, he had realized how much he had probably annoyed sukuna on the nights that he asked him to do that.

but it seems that in the horror stories that you had shared with megumi, he realized that he was left with an agonizing amount of questions about his own father that he couldn't ignore. and one day on a whim – he had marched to the tattoo parlor all on his own and asked all of them, basically till toji was free of every answer that he could possibly give.

and megumi realizded that there was more to the entire situation that met the eye. that there were things his mom had purposely omitted, for reasons he could understand but not get behind. and weirdly enough, by some twist of fate, was now going to reconcile with his own father.

you were more than supportive. only because whatever strange fatherly advice of figure toji was trying to be for megumi, he was also trying to do for yuuji as well. it filled you with an almost insane amount of joy, that toji was so approving of yuuji, that he thought the two of them were meant to be together.

and yuuji deserved that – someone who wanted to be his father. that was proud and happy for him for who he chose to love. that liked him just as he was.

“you ready, megs?” toji asks.

“yeah. this is the design.” meugmi responds, handing him over the little half sheet that yuuji had drawn out, as toji nods.

you take toji’s side as he starts to stencil in the little design at his little workstation, yuuji leaning on the side of the little chair as him and megumi talk in hushed tones.

“hi toji.”

he glares at you.

“do i know you?” he asks.

you roll your eyes, slightly shoving him in the side, as you lean forward, watching him stencil the little design with his purple marker.

“you’re hilarious, toji.”

“i’m a part time comedian. i take tips.”

you fish into your purse, reaching for one of the coins in there, and throw it onto the little tin working space.

“you’re so generous!” he deadpans.

“I live to please.” you joke.

toji smiles, averting his eyes as you follow his gaze. he’s staring at megumi and yuuji, the two of them with their hands locked into together and laughing under their breaths. and you smile, only for toji to glare at the sweet look you’re giving him.

while he’s just as much of a sap as sukuna, he hates to be up front about it. especially when it comes o you, because you always feel the need to make a comment about it to him. half because you want him to know that you appreciate what he’s doing for both of them. and because it’s really fun to irritate him.

you imagine this is how satoru feels when he annoys sukuna.

“shut up.”

“i didn’t say anything.” you respond.

“you were saying it with your face.”

“you’re projecting!”

toji glares, sketching the shading on the little constellation, as he heaves a sigh.

“never did thank you, you know.”

“for?”

“dunno. telling him about your shit dad. he never would have come here if he didn’t.”

“well, i for one, love to tell people about my shit dad. it makes for a funny story.”

toji smiles.

“he really didn’t recognize ya?”

you shake your head.

“he thought i was sukuna’s girlfriend from europe.” you state.

“do you want me to kill him?” toji asks.

you laugh.

“that’s okay. yuuji punched him for me.”

“eh? cupcake over there? there’s no way”

you grin. toji very lovingly calls yuuji cupcake – only because the first time yuuji met him, he decided to bring a box of cupcakes that he consequently dropped on the sidewalk before he could even make it to toji’s apartment.

“that’s right.”

“no shit. he doesn’t have it in him. he’s so….sunshine and rainbows. like you.”

“had a full bruised hand and everything! you’re forgetting that he’s sukuna’s brother.”

“that’s fair.” toji states.

there’s a pause.

“speaking of, how is he?”

“sukuna?”

toji nods.

“he’s okay. doing good, i think. i mean, he definitely has days where he’s…where it’s harder than others. but i’m glad that he trying to work on it now, at least try to be a little bit more open about it.” you state.

“you know, he came into my shop, a shitty little angry sixteen year old begging me to give him a tattoo.”

“and you broke the law and gave one to him.” you state.

“yes. but only because at the time, i could…i could tell that he needed that. and i talked to him about stuff here and there, and i sat there and thought about how if my kid was feeling like this, i’d give them that so they wouldn’t do something more drastic. hurt themselves or something, ya know?”

you frown.

“yeah.”

“and well, it’s fucking great. the fucking idiot walks in here smiling all the time. tells you all his weird shit even though he fucking hates doing it, or at least at the time, he did. he even seems more lively or younger or some shit compared to then. whatever it was that was wearing him down back then has long left him. so don’t worry about him too much? that one’s a fighter.” toji states.

you smile, your heart thumping in your chest.

“yeah. yeah, he is.” you respond.

toji gives you a smile, tilting his head to the side as he beckons for you to join him at his megumi’s side.

sukuna’s voice is muffled against your neck, lips warm on your skin, as he whispers. you’re eying the dresses that you have left – a flowery pink pattern and the white silk dress that sammy had picked out with you weeks prior.

“wear that one.”

“what?”

“the white one. the one with the lace shit, that’s long. i want you to wear that one.” sukuna states.

you frown.

“i was saving that one.”

“for?” sukuna grins.

when sukuna brings you to france, you know that he’s going to propose to you. because on one of the last days of your trip, he’s taking you to the musée de l’orangerie, where monet’s water lilies are. and you know that true to his word, he’s going to propose there, just like he promised you almost a year ago in that dirty tattoo parlor.

but you can’t say it forthright. that you’re saving the pretty white dress you have for the day that he’s going to propose. because it’s presumptuous to say he's going to propose, and knowing him, the element of surprise is something that he would have wanted maintained.

but that doesn’t mean that sukuna doesn’t try to goad it out of you. he hints at it all the time – asking you why you save the dress for the end of the trip, why you’re saving some of your better jewelry for the last days, asking why you wanted to get your nails touched up towards the middle of the trip.

it’s thin ice that the two of you walk on, that neither of you acknowledge. it’s what makes it exciting.

“wear this one today, okay?”

you frown, before scaling away to your suitcases, eyeing the dresses that are left in the bag

“wait but…”

“you’re wearing the white.” sukuna demands.

“i want to…”

“wear the white. trust me, you’ll want to wear it today.” sukuna whispers, leaning over the little distance between the two of you, as he offers you a wink.

you pause, testing the waters.

“but…we’re going to giverny today.”

“that’s right.”

the water lilies are in paris. he can’t be proposing today.

“you want me to wear this dress…this white dress…to giverny.”

sukuna grins.

“yes. the pink one is better for paris. you know i love pink.”

you sigh, looking down at the fabric. he did have a thing for you in pink. you give in, putting together the outfit – the white dress, the mary jane shoes that sukuna had picked out for you, and a little pearl clip to secure your hair back.

sukuna’s taking some extreme lengths – pressing his head in between your legs to buckle your shoes, attentively putting the clip in your hair, and pressing soft featherlike kisses to basically any patch of skin that you can find.

“you’re in a mood today.”

“i’m just really excited for giverny.”

you understand the excitement once you get there. giverny’s the smallest little village in the north of france, a little bit of an hour away from where the two of you were staying, and is filled with the brightest, most beautiful flowers that you’ve ever seen in your life.

you get into town in the early hours of the morning, the two of you giving each other excited smiles as you set out to the little town. the two of you eat breakfast together in the smallest bed and breakfast, sukuna takes an obscene amount of pictures, and you buy a little charm for your bracelet.

sukuna gets uncharacteristically quiet, a light pink tinge on his cheeks, as he leads you down a winding road, unti you end up at a little house at the end of the way. it’s magnificent – a few people teetering in and out of the doors – as you eye the brick walls and the green window panes. there’s bright pink flowers at the front, muted purples and greens all around, as you look over at him, taken aback by the fact that he’s already looking at you.

“sukuna?”

“this is why we’re in giverny.” he murmurs, lightly pulling at your wrist as he takes you in through the middle of the house, offering a spare glance to the people milling around, and taking you through the back.

his hand is warm in yours as you walk out to the little backyard, a green bridge across the little pools of water, with willowing trees dousing the entire area in the shade of the calm sun. he leads you right to the center of the bridge, the two of you leaning your chins on the tops of your hands as you look down at the water, your little reflections staring back at you.

“did you notice what’s in the water?”

you look around, feeling your heart drop in your chest, at the water lilies almost decorating the entire pond – pink flowers with lily pads of green – as you widen your eyes, the wetness glassing over your eyes as you look over at sukuna, who has the softest smile on his face.

“i know that i’d lost the element of surprise when i told you that i wanted to propose to you at the water lilies in the musée de l’orangerie. i figured the next best thing was taking you to the real water lilies that the painting was based off of.”

“wait. wait, this is…”

“claude monet’s house. his garden, more specifically, and the real water lilies from the painting.”

you pause.

“you’re going to propose.” you state.

sukuna shakes his head.

“not exactly.”

you feel your heart drop.

“what?”

“i’m going to marry you.”

you feel your throat dry. and your head spin. and your heart pounding in your chest – because surely, he can’t be serious.

“sukuna?” you whisper.

he laughs.

“don’t freak out. but i’m going to marry you.” he repeats, the tenor in his voice so calm that it nearly freaks you out.

you reach forward, hands on his shoulders as you squeeze hard, the wetness pouring onto your cheeks as you lean forward, smiling.

“i would love to marry you. i’d do it right now but..but we can’t just..our moms, your outfit and i…”

sukuna stops you mid sentence.

“your sister and my brother are here with our moms. they’re actually watching from that bush if you look back.”

you turn around, following the direction of sukuna’s finger, as he leans forward, wrapping his arms around your waist and his voice like honey in your ear as he continues. you see four sets of eyes – and yuuji giving you an embarrassingly wild wave – as sammy yanks him back down.

“sammy has a veil. she said it’ll hook into the pearl clip that she gifted you. my mom picked wedding rings for us. your mom got ordained. and yuuji decided that he’s going to be the best man and the man of honor for both of us. your mom also has that weird flower shit for me that’s supposed to go on my jacket.”

“wait…wait you really…”

“speaking of, as much as i like this plastic ring…”

sukuna uses his hands to spin you around, until you’re facing him this time, hands pressed against his chest as you look up at him.

“i told you that i was going to give you a real one.”

you watch as he reaches into his pocket, plucking the perfect little ring out of the box, as he reaches forward, slipping the plastic green one off of your hand and replacing it with the sparking diamond. the former goes into the depths of his pocket, but you’re too preoccupied with the one he’s just given you.

you look down at it, at the way it glints in the sun, before looking back up at him, at the smile on his face as he expectantly waits for a response – to everything he’s just laid out in front of you.

“you’re really doing this? you’re really going to marry me right here?”

“if you let me.” sukuna responds.

he pauses, before taking his hands in yours, eyeing and fiddling with the newly replaced ring on your finger before looking back up at you, and smiling.

“i can’t wait any longer. i did all of this, flew our parents out and our siblings, and made sammy buy you this perfect, beautiful dress because i have to marry you right now. and it’s not because i’m paranoid or because i’m scared you’re going to die on me, but because you’re the love of my life. i want our love to be forever. i know you’re going to live to tomorrow and i am too – but it’s still not good enough for me that we’re not tied together in all the ways people can be tied together.”

you smile.

“i just want you to be my wife. you’ve been my everything since forever and i need everyone to know that. my tax forms, the government – i need it written in paper, i need there to be real living proof.”

you laugh.

“me too.” you murmur.

“yeah?”

“yeah. yeah, i need someone to shout it from the rooftops. i want to send it to the fucking newspaper back home just so everyone knows that you married me and i married you. and i really do want to do it right now.”

and you watch as he grins – at what may be his first confirmation that everything he planned out is going to come to fruition right now, because you’re going to marry him. and he leans forward, pressing a kiss to your cheeks, hands frantic around your neck and pulling you closer as you lean back, glaring at him.

“save that for the wedding.”

“i needed one last kiss from you as my girlfriend.”

“well, i think that was technically my first kiss as your fiancee? your last kiss with me as your girlfriend was the one this morning. it tasted like french toast.” you state.

he shakes his head.

“okay, go away now. let sammy put your veil on. and walk back down with her and yuuji, okay?”

you give him a nod, quickly shuffling to the little bush where all four of them are crouched, nervous eyes as you bend down, giving all of them a smile.

“are we getting married?” your mom asks.

“we’re getting married.” you confirm.

the all cheer, yuuji leaning forward to press a kiss to your head, as you feel the warmth bloom under your cheeks, and they all start nervously panting. your mom starts rehearsing the little lines that she has to say, cards pressed in her hands, as sukuna’s mom pulls out the little box that the rings are in. the two of them nurse sukuna’s boutonniere in their hands, messing with the pin at the back and making sure it’s in place.

“okay, turn around, i’m putting the veil on. mom, go stand out there with sukuna he looks like a fucking idiot standing there alone. yuuji and i will walk her down.” sammy mutters.

the two of them nod, quickly running out – but not before giving you a warm kiss on the cheek – as you watch both of them give sukuna a long hug, biting so hard on your cheek that you draw blood when sukuna leans forward, wiping a tear away from your mom’s face.

you hear a little clicking noise, as sammy starts draping the little frilly veil over your shoulders, her eyes in a deep attentiveness as she comes around, fixing the stray hairs on your forehead and the straps of your dress with frantic hands. and you can’t help but lean forward, wet tears in your eyes, as you burrow your chin into the crook of her shoulder, and squeeze hard.

“you’re going to walk me down the aisle?” you ask.

you lean back, sammy giving you a sweet smile before reaching up and cupping the side of your face.

“i helped you take your first steps. s’only fitting, right?”

“yeah.” you whisper.

“and we can’t do it without him either, of course. naturally, you’re going to be attached at the hip until the end.” sammy mutters.

and you turn to your left, where yuuji’s uncharacteristically quiet at your side with wide eyes, hands nervously fidgeting in his pockets at his side as you shoot him a warning glance.

“you okay?”

“i was friends with you when you literally had no fucking teeth. and now you’re just getting married. to my brother.”

you smile.

“do you have a problem with that?”

yuuji rolls his eyes.

“i don’t like to share.”

and he pauses, before leaning forward, his hands featherlike on your shoulder.

“i know this is really weird, but i…i feel like i’m giving you away.” yuuji mumbles.

you laugh.

“i feel like you’re giving me away too. you…you’ve been the only person around in my life, in the same way, basically forever. you’re really the only person whose approval matters to me.”

he smiles.

“we’ve both spent a good amount of our lives just with each other. but i’m glad that you’ve opened up space for a few more. and i have to. and for sukuna of all people, who fucking adores you. i’m half mad i didn’t think of it myself earlier, but you’re perfect for each other.”

“thank you, yuuji.”

“and this is the perfect scheme. you’re going to be my sister. we can upgrade the term soulmate to soul sister now.”

“deal.” you whisper.

you both laugh, as yuuji holds his hand out to you, which you tuck your hand into before pressing a kiss to his cheek. the two of them look to you for confirmation, before you leave your little spot behind the bush, your little heels clicking against the wood of the bridge, as sukuna stands in between your moms, a hand pressed to his chest, and he cries freely.

his mom hands you the rings, two simple golden bands. and your mom seals the words, that tie you together forever.

four days later, you finally do make it to musée de l’orangerie. sukuna drags you towards the back – to the painting from the blue and purple background that’s been on your computer for years – as you both tangle your arms together, fingers adored with your newly minted rings.

it feels dangerously full circle to sukuna.

that he had visited years prior, alone with headphones shoved into his ears, and stood there alone thinking about you. about how he wanted to live, about how he was going to move past everything that had happened to him – and at the very least, return to japan someday and see you again.

and he stood there, wondering what you would be like. if you liked the same music, if you watched the same shows. if you still ate cinnamon raisin french toast and wore ribbons in your hair.

and at that point, he knew he wasn’t going to return to japan for another few years, but when he did – he was at the very least, going to be determined to find the answers, in the most natural way he could. that somehow, the two of you would end up near each other, at the same restaurant or at the same bar, and he’d get to ask.

“what are you thinking about?” you whisper.

sukuna looks down, at your head resting against his shoulder, and leans forward, pressing an absentminded kiss to your forehead.

“that this time around, you’re standing here with me.”

that he got to put a ring on your finger. that he knows you don’t listen to the same type of music as him but you do have the same taste in shows – even if you have different favorite seasons. you like french toast when he makes it and think the ribbons fall better when he places them in your hairband for you.

you love him. and he loves you back.

an: a very long love letter to this beloved fic. this has been six months of one of the sweetest things i've ever written. this fic is literally so special to me for so many reasons bc it's pushed me so many ways in figuring out how I like to write and express my feelings -- and i've put so much of myself and my real struggles of good old life into it. needless to say that all of the sweet comments and love that i've received on this have every bit worth it. this goofy little one shot took a life of it's own from all the love you've all given me on it and i'm so glad we ended up here together 💌 (and I promise, i'll actually write dream girl actor sukuna now, I just had to finish this one up properly)

and a beloved kiss to my lovely @babiemay who enabled this original brain rot in the first place. you are a star.

taglist: @porridgesblog @k0z3me @sugu-love @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @gojoswifeyyys-world @cutiejg @chilichopsticks @ghostreadersthings @charlie-xo @whoami-72 @heijihattorisgf @megu-meow @complexivelovely @multiplefandomthings @hoebuns @lzaj19 @glossygreene @ramluvr @sureconfused @najaemism @manduse @imhorn1help @gamergirl5125 @r0ckst4rjk @invisible-mori @isaacdaknight @wishmemel @gyros-cum-sock @suftsunshine @i0099 @cowgirlikets @haitanibros0007 @stuffeddeer @yoontaedotin @ec3lipsy @armani78 @awkwardaardvarkforever @kereseth @leave-rae-alone @ruruvia @princess-ackerman @jjkwritingss @lilkiwikiara @opchara @telepathicheartss @starriesworlds @raechu11 @exprimidordefresas @nxxrxm @aalloochaat @strangehuman101 @tzutology

364 notes · View notes

ichorai · 2 years

Text

spiderling ; peter parker.

sequel to particles!

pairing ; peter parker x stark!reader

synopsis ; peter was supposed to find you after strange wiped everyone's memory of him away. instead, you found him.

words ; 2.0k

themes ; angst, mild fluff and comedy

warnings / includes ; lots of feels crammed into this, peter is a flustered mess, reader is an insanely smart kid of tony’s, mentions of may and the rest of the spidey gang :(

main masterlist.

Ever since Peter had asked Strange to wipe the entire world’s memory of him, things had been… uneventful to say the least. He studied, he worked two boring jobs for a low minimum wage, and he visited May’s grave every afternoon.

There wasn’t much else to do when nobody knew him as Peter Parker.

Sometimes, he’d go out in his itchy, make-shift spider suit that he’d fashioned with bright fabrics from a corner store that also sold his most favorite orange-flavored popsicles, stopping common crime as the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

Other than that… he slept. He played Crossy Road on his phone—or he’d rewatch the Star Wars movies for the billionth time.

He thought of his best friends, Ned and MJ. He thought of his brothers, Peter 2 and 3. He thought of his Aunt May, and Happy, who visited her grave almost as frequently as he did. He thought of the closest thing he had to a father figure, Tony Stark. He thought of Mr. Stark’s oldest kid—which he used to refer to as his significant other.

The love of his life.

Y/N Stark.

Peter missed you. He missed you more than anything in the entire world. He missed your wide smile and the specific way you’d throw your head back and laugh so hard you’d be grabbing onto his arm, gasping for breath. He missed how you’d press your chest into his back and kiss along his neck while he did his physics homework, quietly mumbling corrections to his calculations when he’d distractedly scribbled down the wrong formula. He missed how Mr. Stark would pull him to the side to give him the ‘Responsible Dad Talk’ just about every time the two of you hung out together, and how you’d have to tell your dad that you could make your own decisions and you didn’t need him to hover over the two of you.

Besides, you used to say with a soft smile, it’s Peter. You know Peter. He’s… he’s Peter. He’d never hurt me, pops.

But he did hurt you. He erased all the memories you had together—he completely wiped himself out of your life.

You loved him—and he had taken that away from you.

“I love you,” you had whispered into him as you hugged him tight, a tear slipping down the corner of your misty eyes. Peter wrapped his arms around your waist and held you all the closer. “Come back to me, Peter. Or… or I swear to fucking God—I’ll find you myself and—”

Your words died on your tongue as he surged forward and kissed you, hard and desperate. The kiss tasted of salt from your tears, of coppery blood from his throbbing, split lip. Neither of you cared.

You hiccupped a sob when he reluctantly pulled away, pressing one last kiss to your grimy forehead, before letting you go entirely. He turned before he could see you crumpling into MJ and Ned, who had roped you into a pained embrace, your shoulders trembling with wracking cries.

That was five months ago. Five months after Strange wiped everybody’s memories of him.

He’d wanted to find you again—he really did. Obviously, you were an extremely busy person, not only being the oldest kid of Tony Stark, but also a genius student, a researcher, the heir of an entire company, and an older sibling to Morgan. But, if he was completely honest, he didn’t really know what to say.

Hey, I’m Peter Parker and I’m in love with you, but I never got the chance to tell you because this wizard that’s sort of a friend of your dad’s erased everyone’s memory of me because the multiverse broke and a bunch of bad guys from other universes slipped into ours because I ruined my friend’s chances of getting into their dream college—

Yeah. That wouldn’t really work out, would it?

So he put it off.

Put it off for a week, which rolled into two, which became three, which became three months.

All of a sudden, it was summer, and he still hadn’t seen you.

He made sure to go to the coffee shop MJ worked at, just to see how she and Ned were faring. From what he heard while he eavesdropped—they were doing great at MIT.

Peter tried his best to keep up with you through those news articles that kept flashing him ads like You Wouldn’t Believe What This Celebrity Looks Like Without Makeup! or Learn All About Steve Rogers’ Exercise Routine!

There wasn’t much that he could find about you, other than a couple pictures of you with your little sister, Morgan, chowing down on cheeseburgers at McDonald’s. After all, you’d always been a rather private person, which was the one jarring difference between you and your infamously public father.

Your social medias were, expectedly, all privated. Peter doubted you’d accept his follow request, anyway.

It was an ordinary Tuesday—Peter had a shift at a car garage in a couple hours, which left him quite a bit of time to burn. He had ACDC softly playing in the background—a band that both you and your dad had been completely infatuated with—half a dozen books spread out around him as he multi-tasked studying new chemical compounds for his web fluid, and rotational mechanics for an upcoming exam.

Then, much to his surprise, the doorbell rang.

It’s probably the landlord, Peter thought with a grimace, thinking of the old woman who always had a cigarette between her coarse fingers, despite her own strict policy of no smoking in the building. He turned the music down to a low thrum, before swinging the door open.

And… there you were.

Peter could feel his heart drop to the floor.

You were… God, you were beautiful. There wasn’t much about you that changed—you got a new pair of glasses, he could see, and you’d cut your hair shorter. There was a tattoo peeking slightly out of your loose-hanging t-shirt etched over your skin, depicting a sketch of an arc reactor, in memory of your late father.

Besides that, you were the very same. The same bright, intelligent eyes, the same lips that puckered ever so slightly to the side in thought, and the same brows that knitted together whenever you were concentrating.

Your hands were shoved into your jeans as you cocked your head, studying him with narrowed eyes.

“Erm,” Peter started, mouth opening and closing as his brain struggled to comprehend that you were here. In the flesh. Fuck, you were gorgeous. “Wh… Y/N?”

Your eyebrow arched high up, closer to your hairline. “First name basis already, huh?”

“I’m—”

“You’re the Spiderling, aren’t you?” you asked abruptly, nearly giving him whiplash. Before he could say anything else, you were swiping your phone open, a hologram of a Youtube video playing right in front of his face. The video displayed Spider-Man swinging from building to building, stopping a car from ramming into an elderly woman crossing the street with nothing but brute strength. Peter didn’t even remember that happening. To him, that was just an ordinary day. “That must’ve been, what—like, thirty-five hundred pounds, about fifty miles an hour? Impressive.”

“Wh—”

You brushed past him into his tiny apartment. Peter cursed himself for not throwing away the pizza boxes stacked on his kitchen counter, and for leaving his sketches of web shooters out on his desk.

A small smile graced your lips as you spotted the blue and red scrap fabrics discarded into the trash can. “Hm. You make your own suit? My dad did, too. God—are those goggles?” You picked up his vision goggles from his unmade bed, peering through them as you snorted in amusement. “How on earth do you see anything though these?”

“I—”

You turned to him with an intrigued grin. “I’m sure you already know who I am, seeing as you knew my dad. It’s nice to finally meet you, Spiderling.”

Peter blinked. The overwhelming sense of deja vu washed over him like a tidal wave—you were behaving eerily similar to when Mr. Stark had approached him to go to Germany back in 2016.

“I… how…”

“What’s your name?” you asked, gingerly stepping over his textbooks to stare at his pinboard, where his calendar hung.

“Peter,” he finally mumbled in reply, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. “And it’s Spider-Man, not Spiderling. What are you doing here? I mean, not that I don’t want you here, but, uhm—how did you find me?”

You looked over your shoulder with a knowing glint to your eyes. “I keep tabs on everybody my dad used to work with. Honestly, it wasn't too difficult to track you down—given the radius of where Spider-Man usually frequents and his response times to local crimes, it was easy to pinpoint where you lived. After my AI ran a couple voice recognition tests and estimated bodily proportions, that led me right to you.” You leaned against his rickety wooden desk with a curious grin. “Thought you’d be a bit older, though. Looks like you’re around my age.”

“I… that’s… wow.”

Wrinkling your nose in amusement, you turned back to his full calendar.

Peter prayed you wouldn’t flip over to your birthday month—he’d circled your birthday with bright red sharpie and drew loopy hearts all over the little square. Thankfully, you stopped skimming through, pausing at the relatively empty weeks where he had nothing planned other than a few work shifts.

“Looks like you’re free from school in a couple weeks,” you said. “I know this is really sudden and very abrupt of me, but—I’d love to offer you a job at Stark Labs. You must be crazy smart to design synthetic webs with a Young’s modulus that’s off the charts. Could really use that brain of yours at my company. Plus, you’ve got a lot of work experience in the bag.”

There was a beat of silence. Peter stared at you with parted lips.

A bit more timidly, you added on, “And… it’d be nice to work with someone that knew my dad.”

Well, Peter didn’t want to brag, but he’d definitely say that he didn’t only just know Tony Stark. But you didn’t need to know that right at this moment.

“Yes,” he blurted out, a bit louder than necessary. “Are you kidding me? That’s… that’s amazing! Yeah, oh my God, I’d love to! Thank you!”

Before he could stop himself, his body moved out of pure muscle memory and excitement, stepping forward to wind his arms around you, squeezing you tightly. Your familiar perfume made his eyes well with tears—fuck, he missed you so fucking much.

“Oh—” you began to say, muscles tensing. “Okay, then. You’re welcome, pal.”

Rouge flushed hotly over his cheeks as he realized that you weren’t his significant other anymore—in your mind, this was the first time the two of you were meeting. Quickly, he let you go, backing away with a grimace.

“Sorry,” he winced. “Sorry, I just—”

“Have we met before?” you asked, cutting him off. “I don’t know… it just feels like… nevermind. I’d probably remember a cute face like yours.”

Peter’s face burned an even brighter shade of red.

“Here’s my contact information. I’ll send you any contracts, NDAs, legality issues, dates for any research projects you might be interested in joining, payment negotiations, all that jazz,” you told him, placing a card onto his desk. “I look forward to working with you, Patrick.”

“Peter,” he corrected.

A smile played with the corner of your lips. “Right. Peter. Nice music taste, by the way. I love ACDC—I can see why my dad liked you so much.”

With that, you ambled over his scattered belongings on the floor, flashing him one last beam, before striding straight out the door.

Peter stared at the open doorway for a minute—or was it an hour? He really couldn’t tell.

He collapsed into his bed, the goggles you’d dangled digging into his back. He arched up just enough to pull it away, clutching it to his chest with a goofy smile.

You found him.

Against all odds, you’d found him.

Fuck, Peter loved you so much.

Telling you though—now that was a different story entirely. One that Peter knew was going to take time.

But for you…

He’d wait centuries.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x you #marvel fanfiction #peter parker angst #marvel angst #mcu!peter x reader #peter parker fluff #mcu!peter parker #mcu!peter parker fanfiction #spiderman x reader #spider-man x reader #spiderman fanfiction #spider-man fanfiction #spiderman fluff #spiderman angst #peter parker x stark!reader

7K notes · View notes