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dcxdpdabbles · 10 months

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The bakery is a front!...Right? Part 5

Danny opens his eyes to the sight of a potent magical barrier glowing around him. It would have held off many of his subjects but did nothing against his court, much less the king.

Then, he noticed he was in some sort of cave, strapped down to a fluffy bed. There isn't much he can see besides the various machines hooked up throughout the place, various cars, two planes, what appeared to be a training ground, and a.... dinosaur?

Where the hell am I? He thinks, trying to recall what happened to lead him here. But all he can clearly remember is fighting with Phantom over going to the park. Everything after that was a blur.

He tries to move, frowning at the very little give of his restraints. One around each of his four limbs, three large belts over his knees, stomach, and upper chest.

After a few minutes of struggling as a human, he slumps in place.

His blue eyes fly over the runes that shine along the barrier's side, noting three magical signatures. This was a group effort. Strange. Who would put Danny here?

Phantom remains silent but watchful from their shared eyes as Danny scans his surroundings again to ensure no one is around before shifting. As soon as his ghost forms, the barrier flairs, indicating an alarm has been tripped.

Danny sighs tiredly, allowing his body to pass through the restraints. Phantom reaches out to push his hand through the barrier, wiggling his fingers on the other side. Just as they thought, it's not going to keep Danny inside.

Feels like water. Phantom says, and Danny agrees. Whoever put him in here either overestimated their strength or underestimated Danny. He hopes it's not another death cult. Those always left him feeling sick after dealing with them.

It's then Danny realizes another fact. Phantom does not feel like his body trying to split in half; Phantom feels like himself again, another part of who makes up Danny.

Like the inner voice when you read in your head, just as his ghost half had always been since he was fourteen. Danny had been in this creepy cave for over a week because his mating season had finally ended.

That also meant that Danny was missing a full week of memories.

He is going to have some words with whoever is responsible. Danny rechecks the barrier, realizing it's still flaring, and decides to wait for them to approach him. He can pretend he's trapped inside, hopefully creating a false sense of security and getting answers from his kidnappers.

He crosses his legs under him just as a portal rips open a few feet away from his barrier and out rushes a blond man in a trench coat. Behind the man is a woman in a magician outfit and a teenage girl in a purple cape. Danny scans each person, noting the barrier's magical signature matches them all, and knows they are responsible.

Trench coat falls to one knee, bowing his head in respect. "Your majesty."

The other two follow suit after he speaks, repeating his greeting. It seems Trench Coat is the leader. The ghost king leans back on his hands, frost slowly spreading over the blankets under his palms.

It crawls to the edges, slowly falling down the legs of the bed and around the floor. Danny stops it right at the lines of the barrier, knowing the blond man is watching it. The blond man's shoulder relaxes when the frost fails to go over the drawn lines.

So they did underestimate Danny. Well, it made things easier, at least.

"Where am I?" Knowing Phantom's voice echoes and unsettles the three kneeing magic users, he asks. Sam had once told him it sounded like the cracking of ice glaciers from within the giant ice caves after his friend returned from a trip to the artic with her parents.

Danny wasn't exactly sure what that sounded like, but he had always thought it made him more intimidating, especially when he kept his voice a regal calm. Tucker said the calm made it extra creepy, and he wanted to watch these three sweat right now.

"The Batcave, your Highness." Trench Coat responds. Danny's jaw drops.

"The what cave!?" He gasps, springing up from the bed to spin around and look at his surrounding better. He knows he just shattered the illusion but come on! It's the Batcave! This place was a legend among his customers! "Batcave as in Batman!?"

"Indeed." A new voice calls and Danny's head snaps toward a man hiding within a shadow. He's good for a human, but although the shadows open their arms to him, they are not part of him, and Danny can trace every inch of him as easily as though a spotlight had been shined on him.

"Batman" He whispers in awe. The Dark Knight steps out into the line of sight of the other three, ignoring Trench Coat when the blond man starts to hiss at him to kneel. "I got kidnapped by Batman. That's so metal."

Batman, to his credit, doesn't even flinch at the accusation. "You were deemed a danger to the public."

Danny snorts. "Been there. Done that. Got a cookie on the way back."

The mask man's eyes narrow. "Are you aware of the damage you have caused? The lives you have potentially ruined since arriving in my city?"

"Dude, I have no idea what you're talking about. All I did was open a bakery." Danny glances down at the magic users before waving a hand. "You three can stand now, by the way."

The three stand as Batman steps up against the barrier. He looms over Danny in a poor attempt at intimation. Even with having to tilt his head back to keep eye contact and the glowing yellow stip of magic, Danny finds himself on equal footing with the human.

"Batman, bugger off. Now." Trench Coat hisses, yanking the other back a few steps. "We do not need a war with one of the most powerful beings in the multiverse."

"A being that tried to steal my sons." The other man growls, and Danny blinks.

"First of all, I didn't even know you had kids. Second, I have never met them in my life, much less steal-"

"Red Robin will not be going with you, no matter what you say!" Batman interrupts. "If I have to keep you here until the contract is neutralized, I will."

"This is not helping B." The woman dressed like a magician says. She was beyond nervous, a slight tremble ranking her frame. "We're supposed to be negotiating the terms of the engagement."

"The engagement?" Danny mouths, confused.

"We have his sister, Jassmin Fenton. That's a good enough starting point-" The girl in the cape starts, and Danny snaps to attention at his sister's name. Her neck is in his hand, cutting off her words with a chock gasp. He sneers in her face even as the other three scream at the speed he crosses the barrier.

"Where. Is. Jazz."

"Raven!" The other woman screams. "Prat eht gnik ni a egac!"

Her magic washes over him but freezes as Danny's power overtakes it. The spell lands on the ground as a sparkling clump of ice.

The girl claws at his hands, trying to pry him off even when a bear tazer slams into his side, sending electricity throughout his body. If he had been fourteen that would have been enough to have scared him enough into letting go.

He's not a little kid anymore, though. He backhands Batman away from him, catching the tazer he drops as he is flung and throwing it at Trench Coat.

It slams against the man, knocking him on his ass. "I didn't even do anything!"

Danny raises the girl, wondering if he should squeeze more- it's not choking her. He just wanted to scare her.- when Ellie came flying from the direction of a large stone stairway. It seems the Batcave was underneath something. "Danny, stop! Let her go!"

"They kidnapped Jazz!" He yells, eyes blazing in an angry green. Raven's eyes widened at the color. She chants a spell, but her magic is frozen like Zatanna's was before it could even form. She looks stricken.

Not surprising since magic is supposed to be one thing to never fail against the paranormal. Too bad for her Danny is the king and thus far more powerful than the average ghost.

"No, they didn't! She literally upstairs flirting with Jason!"

Danny lets Raven go to swing his head in Ellie's direction. "Who the fuck is Jason!?"

"A really buff book nerd."

"Of course he is."

"Yeah, he's also Peter Draper." Ellie continues with a What can you do shrug.

"Oh, word?" Danny tries to imagine Jazz and Peter, but his employee is so short-tempered that he finds it odd his sister would ever look his way twice. Then again, Peter was only short-tempered because he was trying to keep Alvin safe from Phantom's charm, so....maybe that's what got her attention?

"Your Highness," Trench Coat clears his throat. "We really need to discuss the engagement."

"What engagement?"

Ellie flies over to drape herself across his shoulders like a floating scarf. "The one between you and Timothy Drake."

"The Wayne CEO?" Danny never met the guy; how was he engaged to him?

"Yeah, but you know him as Alvin Draper or Red Robin." Ellie shrugs at his Godsmack expression. "The Bats thought you were selling drugs, using kids as carriers, and using the bakery as a front to cover up your crimes."

"Drugs? Child endangerment!? Why would they think I would do something so terrible?! My bakery is a lovely place!"

"Cause you're kind of shady, Danny. Fruitloop shady."

"I'm disowning you." Danny turns his attention back to the four - heroes? If they were with Batman, they had to be right?- and frown. "I love Gotham. I was just trying to sell pastries and help my community."

"Yeah, but you're still shady." Ellie laughs, ignoring the disownment like every other time Danny threatened her. "They sent in spies to figure you out."

"Spies? In my bakery?" Danny repeats, horrified. He snaps his fingers at his sister, narrowing his eyes. "You can never tell Andres he was right."

She bares her teeth in response, and he knows his store manager will be unbearable come Monday. Danny covers his face wanting to scream, until Batman steps to growl at him. "Tim isn't going anywhere with you."

Danny squints at him. "You're making it sound like I'm taking him by force."

"You are." And another voice jumps in, but this one is familiar. Danny twists around to see Alvin-er Tim calmly walk down the large stairway wearing only white pants. Along the sides of the pants are runes that make Danny's stomach drop.

They're the marking of a human sacrifice in the ghost zone.

"I won't resist." Tim continues stopping before a horrified Danny and clasping his hands tightly. Tim's gaze rests on his feet, every inch of him portraying submission. A group of people quickly come down the stairs, each trying to talk over the other, but Danny can't take his eyes off the human, giving himself up.

Phantom's core weeps. When a human is made into a sacrifice, there is nothing other ghosts can do to intervene. It's one of the Rules within the zone, like Truce Day. There was nothing he could do to save his employee.

"Who?" He whispers his ghostly glow highlighting the youth in Tim's face. Only nineteen. "Who do you belong to?"

Tim's hands twitch, but it's the only sign of discomfort as he lowers his gaze even more. "To you, your highness."

"Wha-"

"Oh, for goodness sake!" Jazz yells, walking over to whack him on the head. Ellie moves so her hand can reach his skull and punches the back of his head. Several people gasp, scandalized, but she does seem to care as she starts nagging. "Daniel Fenton! You let this boy out of his human sacrifice engagement with you right now!"

"His what with what?!" Danny screams back, only to have Sam walk around a blond woman and stomp on his foot. "Ow!"

"This a dick move, Danny! Tucker, come over here and tell him!"

His best friend appears only to punch him in the gut. "It's mess up, man! Tim didn't even know he was walking into a fae circle when he went to your apartment!"

"Stop hitting me! I don't even know what the hell is going on!" He yells, rubbing his bruised stomach.

Jazz crosses her arms and taps her foot. "Five. Four."

"Why are you counting?"

" Three. Two"

"Jazz, seriously, stop it."

"One. Zer-"

"I, High King Phantom, release Timothy Drake with no conditions!" He screams, cowering away. The runes on Tim's pants snap like broken chains. "Just please don't say zero!"

"That's what I thought." She says, nodding her head and then laughing. "I can't believe that still works on you. I'm sorry we didn't explain, but I wanted to get Tim out of danger as soon as possible. Tim was the first to find you when the Bats raided your house a week ago, looking for non-existing drugs. Phantom took over in a mate craze and tried to keep him along with Damian- er Robin- prisoners. "

"We all had to join forces to free them, but you were too powerful. You ripped a portal into the ghost zone and took them." Sam takes over giving Danny a stink eye. She always does hate when Danny slips away to the zone to avoid them. "Tim struck a deal with Phantom agreeing to be his human sacrifice/ husband in exchange for his brother's freedom while the rest of us tried to get to the zone."

Danny doesn't know what to say but feels his mouth moving. It's Phantom who answers. "Again, from the bottom of my heart. My bad. Really. I just wanted a baby."

Ellie chirps, "Baby fever is a medical condition Phantom. Don't sweat it."

"Maybe sweat it a little." A man shouts from beside the frozen Tim. The teenager is staring at Danny with a kind of worship looking upon a saint. And a lover. Danny blushes slightly. "You stole my baby brothers."

"Richard. I can not have this conversation again with you." Phantom rolls his eyes and fades back into Fenton as he powers down. "All I did to Tim was try to cover him in blankets, feed him and make him sleep. My human side wasn't even aware of things."

"Still not cool, Phantom. I thought Danny was going to retake him after this visit," Richard responds, pressing Tim into his side. "Even if it was just due to your mating season, don't repeat it."

Danny takes over with a raised brow. "Don't go into my lair during my mating season, then. Who had you snooping?"

"We did what we had to." Batman is notably less hostile now that the contract between Tim and Danny is broken. Danny considers his words and then nods. He gets that. He would have done the same if he thought some creep was luring the street kids into something dangerous.

"Danny," Tim says, approaching the halfa "Will you go on a date with me?"

"Drake! No!" A child screams from the crowd, but Danny can only see those gorgeous blue eyes, and something deep within him uncoils. Phantom settles in Danny's soul with a content sigh. It's found its mate, after all.

"Yes, I'll go on a date with you." Danny pauses. "You won't work at the bakery anymore, right? I can't date my employees. That's a power imbalance."

Tim laughs leaning in to press his lips against Danny's. The other human's outraged cries fade away as Danny melts against him. "How could I ever think I could resist you. You're too perfect. "

"Wait- what?" Danny blinks, but Tim shushes him with another kiss. Both ignore how the Bats leap in to pull them apart, or Team Phantom rushes to protect Danny and fight them off.

John Constante watches the two groups with a frown "So...no war?"

"I don't think so?" Zatanna responds, confused, while Raven watches impassively.

Danny was right. Come Monday, Andres is unbearable, but Tim comes over for lunch and a quick make-out session, so it's worth it. Manolo returns later that day to invite Danny to his school band performance. His mother is now on her way to recovery, finally allowing him to learn the flute.

All is well in Phantom Bakes.

(Part 1), (Part 2), (Part 3), (Part 4)

#dc x dp crossover #dcxdpdabbles #dead tired #The bakery is a front!...right?#Part 5 #End #Tim sort of fell in love with Phantom #and with Danny #Danny wake up babe- a new Phantom lore dropped

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hyewka · 6 months

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᭄⁑　txt as yanderes | thoughts

warnings: yandere, noncon, baby trapping, mention of knife play, slapping, perversion, not proofread

yandere!jjun is the type to be too sweet, sickly sweet. like barfed cupcakes and sprinkles, he pretends to care, he love bombs, he kisses you like he truly loves you, like there’s no one else but you and maybe its true, maybe there is no one else but you in his eyes. but its not romantic. not when he has blood on his hands, figuratively or literally, he’s responsible for innocents lost.

“i didn’t lay a single hand on them, how many times do i have to tell you! doll, baby, believe me. please.” his voice cracks, like he’s about to cry. you scoff and turn your head to the side, disgusted, feeling like you could very much vomit right now.

“stop fucking calling me these—these words!”

yandere!jjun, the type to crumble to his knees and beg, holding onto your leg like an abandoned puppy despite having much more power than you, both in strength and status. lips trembling, eyes wide and crazed, full of pitiful tears, giving you a false reality, sense of hope that he isn’t that much more powerful than you could even imagine.

now yandere!soobin on the other hand is the type you don’t even realize is mentally out of it, not until you’re literally two years into a relationship with him with a stable history of 7+ year of friendship. he’s been jealous here and there, one instance of him breaking down over you having coffee with a male colleague that you had to craddle him, rocking back and forth as he sobs and hiccups— that keeps you up at night sometimes, but he’s so convincing you don’t even notice how often he manipulates and gaslights and manipulates. the way he slithers his long arms around your waist, pressing your bodies flush, holding you tight, whispering random “love you’s”, you almost completely forget. almost.

when yan!soobin’s fucking you senseless, lost in pleasure, tongue out dumb like the horndog he is, you manage to warn him again, “b-baby, not on—hah birth control”

don’t cum inside. don’t cum inside. you told him that before you got too into it, and he agreed, he promised he won’t. of course he won’t.

so why’s he shaking his head? why’s he refusing now? your eyes widen a little, trying to push him but he leans to kiss you, drowning out your protests, turning them to mere mewls. “baby—wanna—wanna make you have babies..”

the alarm bells ring again. and again. and suddenly you remember the few warnings from your friends, the offhanded comments about how he’s a little off, a little weird, that he seems obsessed.

“you won’t leave me when you have my babies, you can’t—” suckling on your nipples through your shirt as if to prove a point, he wets it completely, making it see through with his spit. you feel gross. you feel—“can’t leave me,” he says one last time, moans straining as he empties his load in you. a generous load.

yandere!beomgyu is my favorite in the most deranged way possible. he’s not too sweet, he’s not the meanest, and he isn’t the most pathetic, but he’s definitely the craziest. beomgyu would be the one to go as far as to lock you in his home, keep you chained, bondaged—he’s fucking insane. the type to be into knife play as well, he loves the switch in power dynamic. instead of the past bossy, in control at all times y/n and her pretty lanky best friend who’s probably “head over heels” for her, it’s you on your knees, cold hard wood, getting your throat brutally abused like his personal sex doll.

he loves finally being the one in control. he’s so addicted. sometimes it feels like he’s only inflicting his craziest perverted dreams on you, and you were just his nearest victim, but oh no, out of the five, he’s definitely the most ‘in love’.

“let me out…beomgyu…please.”

his back is pressed against the bedroom’s door, listening in to your sobs that barely transcend the sound proof walls. he sighs, frusteningly running a hand through his hair.

“why—why don’t you love me?”

and suddenly its silent on your part, the sobs not reaching his ears anymore. its enough to cause more cracks in his heart, making him undeniably more bitter but god forbid he gives up on it—on making you love him back, he’ll risk everything for it.

yandere!taehyun is the most cruel but he’d also be considered the least delusional and the most delusional at the same time. he knows you won’t love him back, he could care less (well…debatable actually), it’s about protecting you at the end of the day. that’s where the delusion comes in, he thinks he’s your white knight and you’re only acting out like you’ve always been. stubborn and hard headed. when it comes to the sex, this man has you at all times legs spread up, with your hand restricted, supplying your pussy like a free breed whore. other than the humiliating position, he makes sure you’re aware at all times of what you are to him.

his saliva and cum covering your body like filth, using you like a rag, truly. he’s the type to slap when you act out—a strike against your face, pussy, tits, he’d do it all. and yet he still wholeheartedly believes he’s protecting you from the world that “corrupted” you.

yandere!hyuka is beyond pathetic but you’ll never know because he doesn’t act on his desires. well, in the sense that he doesn’t scratch the eyes out of every one of your boyfriends and doesn’t have you tied to him at all times—he’s the pussy type. in the dark, following, each and every step. that was the beginning. then it was jerking off on your balcony peeking between the blinds as he watches you undress. then it was stealing panties, sniffing, licking, as his hands go manic on his poor dick—it hurts, it’s dry but he keeps going, because he is so fucking addicted he doesnt wanna stop. whining n’ squeaking as he lets out your name out of his mouth over and over and over again.

your scent when he hugs you drives him mad, when you kiss his cheeks he embarrassingly spots a boner, he’s just pathetic with horrible horrible dirty thoughts in his head.

#txt smut #yandere smut #beomgyu smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #yeonjun smut #hueningkai smut #soobin smut #taehyun smut #🌷. rana thoughts

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tarjapearce · 6 months

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Grandma's Visit.

Warnings: Drama, mild angst, Strained Relationships. Comfort towards the end. No proofread

Summary: Conchata wants to meet Benji.

A/N: There might not be updates, but have this little piece as an offer :')

Hey

Gabriel's leg bounced as the main door was closed, a bit of a slam on it. His hands immediately fetched his phone.

Migue

Busy right now.

Drop that shit and listen

?? ¿Qué pasó? (What's wrong?)

Mamá va para allá, cabrón.

The fuck you mean she's on her way? Did you tell her where do I live?

Miguel, it's mom we're talking about.

The eldest O'Hara sighed and raked a hand over his hair. He was definitely not prepared for what laid ahead.

She wants to meet Benjamin.

Miguel's body tensed as his muscles flexed so tightly, one would think he'd break. And it wasn't far from the truth.

Conchata. Or Connie for her friends, was the ever annoying stone on his shoes. Miguel had refused to have her in his wedding. Not out of spite, rather for the notion he had of his beloved progenitor. He knew that trouble followed her everywhere and if it wasn't following her like an overly attached stalker, is cause she was the problem itself.

Conchata was anything but easy to be around. And things had gone even more acrid after the wedding. Miguel never told you about the fourty five minute call she made him just to say how much of a bad son he was for not inviting her over.

But Miguel knew better, if he'd had her, she'd either complain about everything, ruining the mood for everyone. Or she'd start making snide comments on you and he'd get pissed, some drama would ensue causing an even bigger and jagged rift between them and his wedding would be ruined.

"Hey"

Your gentle and soft touch grounded him, anchored his mind back to his body, as his attention snapped back at you.

"You ok?"

His eyes felt tired and heavy. Unable to meet your gaze completely.

"I'll be."

You cradled him in your arms and kissed the top of his forehead. The touch alone melted him. His own arms embracing your shorter form, that somehow did the perfect work of comforting him and ease his thoughts. But when it came to his mother, little good things came out from it.

"My... eh-" He cleared his throat, "My mother is coming for a visit"

Oh...

"What she could possibly want after so many years?"

"Meet Benjamin."

Even though his words seemed simple, the clenching of his fists until his knuckles turned white, only dictated it was far from being that. Miguel didn't fear his mother, but feared and hated the words that could possibly escape her mouth when things weren't her way.

His wellbeing would be the sacrifice for the visit, cause he'd do anything possible to avoid you or his children get hurt.

"I swear, if she says or does something stupid-"

"Mi reina, let me handle her, ok?"

Your lips pursed and your brows deepened in a soft furrow.

"I won't hesitate-"

"I know. But please. Just, let me, ok?"

Both of you knew that things weren't going to be easy, his distress was obvious, he knew you'd step in if necessary, but he had to face her, it was more like a closure for him than anything. His baby boy wouldn't suffer the dooming and cursing words she gave him so many years ago. Words he learned to loathe as he grew up.

"Alright."

----

Maybe Gabriel's heads up was a false alarm, because nearly a week had gone by. A week of pent up stress and anxiety from both sides. And you could tell from Miguel's demeanor changing.

Even though being loving and a great father remained on the top list, you knew better than that. He'd been found asleep in his office after dinner, or would shut out himself for some little minutes. You'd give him space, and when he needed you, he'd always know where to find you.

He didn't even required to say 'I need you' cause you knew. His body language over the years had been a great subject of study, specially when it came to anxiety and other negatives that always switched on whenever his mother popped up in a conversation, or when something didn't sit right in his gut.

He'd pace, pick at the skin around his nails hard enough to draw blood, chew at the insides of his cheek, drink alot of more coffee to keep himself awake, grumpier than usual, irritated, short replies for everything outside his beloved family.

With you he'd be clingier than usual, he'd spoil Gabi over to avoid thinking too much. He'd pour himself into being that amazing and loving parent he never had, but at night, he'd just hold you until he fell asleep. He'd clutch onto you so tightly that sometimes you'd have little bruises, barely visible ones, in the places he'd hold.

Your comfort skills poured into his preferred love language. Physical touch. You'd play with his hair until he fell asleep, a little purr coming from him before giving into sleep, you'd caress his back in soothing circles, letting the steady beating of your heart lull him to calm.

You'd kiss his face, showering him in affection, as if with every kiss a bit of his worries would go away.

The knock on the main door however interrupted his train of thoughts. You had gone to the supermarket to get some stuff you had forgotten for dinner. Relief washing over him as you now we're home, or so he innocently had thought. All air was caught in his throat upon seeing none other than Conchata on the front door.

Even for her age, Conchata had some beauty reserved. Her skin tone same as Miguel's, soft curls that lingered above her shoulders, deep brown eyes that if one looked close enough, would see the deep red in them. Tall and seizing him with a look he also learned to master.

A scowl disguised as a smile.

"Miguel. "

"Mamá."

A too common and long pleasantries shared between the both.

She hasn't aged much.

Miguel's mind chanted.

"You're gonna let me in to meet my grandson, or what?"

A bushy brow of his quirked, blasé and bored, but he stepped aside. His whole frame had curbed her for long enough.

Here we go

Her scrutinizing gaze was unstoppable against the nakedness of his home. Her eyes raked in every little detail out of place, loading her verbal ammo with it.

"Where is the baby?"

"Asleep."

Monotone and monosyllabic answers that matched his expression was all she could pry from him. It was ridiculous the amount of pictures you seemed to have about Gabriella. She saw her when she was two, then six. Staying in Miguel’s life wasn't something she actually liked to partake on. Too busy with her own demons and new boyfriends to care.

Why would she? He was already a grown ass man.

A man that refused to have her at his own wedding. A past resentment that has lasted over the years and her own mind had been feeding the fester inside her heart. It didn't help you had one of the wedding pictures scattered around the living room.

The few proofs she needed to see, to know she wasn't welcome, but knowing her son had his own now, was another excuse to see what kind of man and father Miguel had turned out to be.

His arms crossed on his chest as she sat down in one of the seats in the couch.

"Come."

"I'm fine here, thanks."

"I'm trying to be civil. The least you can do is obey your mother for once."

"Why you came?"

"I told you. I need to see my grandson."

"Whatever for?"

Her eyes hardened at his words, but a sigh escaped her lips.

"God, you're so like your father. Always mistrusting people."

"You need to leave."

Hearing her say such curse, made his heart beat even faster. Hands clenched tightly at his sides. Eyes away from her, like if the mere sight of her brought back so many unpleasantness he had fought hard to work them through.

"I won't leave until your... woman shows up and throws me away."

"She will."

"Of course she will. You're not man enough. Just look at this place. A mess."

"And?"

Miguel knew that paying and baiting into her games, would only hinder so. many years of progress he had done on his own. But would also mean to give her the attention she desperately seeked, even if it meant to do it the wrong way.

"What do you mean, and?! What does she does around all day?" Conchata huffed, " In my times the wife was the one that kept everything in check. I've seen nothing but a mess so far."

"Sorry for that."

Your tired and irked voice echoed from the kitchen's door. Miguel gave you a little smirk.

"Have been busy being a real mother this whole time. Miguel, mi amor can you defrost some vegetables, please?"

"Sure do. Found everything?"

You both were purposely ignoring her. A silent yet powerful statement.

You have no power here.

Conchata's eyes set like stone into you. How dared a tiny flea like yourself to speak to her in such way?. And even worse, how could his son be lenient in allowing you to be disrespectful towards her?

You had entered quietly, the heavy and draining aura could be felt even from outside. You had told Gabi to wait outside and rearrange the groceries in the meantime.

" Oh, I didn't know you had returned."

Your name rolling off her tongue felt wrong.

" It's my house too."

"Ah, of course. You didn't do a pre-nup. Te va a dejar en la calle, Miguel." (She'll leave you bare)

Conchata's gaze never left you, it only turned even more intense as her pupils followed you every step.

"I came here to meet my grandson. Where is Gabriella? "

Said precious child helped you to get the bags from your car, while Conchata opened her arms for Gabi to cuddle her. But everything that came out was her hiding behind you, while looking between you and her, as if asking permission.

"Do you want to greet grandma, baby?"

Gabi only recoiled back, hiding further from you.

"Guess not."

You shrugged and instructed Gabi to go to her room, your eldest baby ignored her grandma.

"Muy chistosa tu mujer, enseñándole a mis nietos a irrespetarme ." (Your woman is so funny by teaching my grandkids to disrespect me.)

Miguel had to roll his eyes and stare at her boringly as he pulled out the vegetables and put them to thaw while you clenched your jaw by the sudden resented babbling that came from your mother in law.

"Where is Benjamin? I came here to see him. And I'm sure you'd love to have me here again."

"He'll be up in a minute. Would you like a a glass of water?"

Miguel offered but Conchata was already set in making you as uncomfortable as possible. And when Benjamin was brought in, rubbing his sleepy and baby face, looking for you, Conchata stood and took Benji from Miguel's arms. Holding him with such disingenuous affection it made Benji to reach for Miguel instantly.

You tensed, and so did Benjamin as Conchata admired him. If it wasn't for the skin tone matching Miguel’s, one would think that Benjamin wasn't his. Benjamin had your curls. And not Miguel's soft waves. Benjamin was the splitting image of you with a bit of Miguel's DNA painted in a few selected places. Like his eyes and height.

"I'm actually surprised you managed to pop out his children. Miguel is... big. Got it from his father."

"Didn't care much about that, ma'am."

"No se parece en nada a ti, Miguel. ¿Estás seguro que es tu hijo?" (He doesn't look like you. Are you sure he's your son?)

You didn't know what infuriated you more. The fact that she hinted that Benjamin wasn't his, a shallow and not so subtle hint at Miguel's past, or the pleased smirk her mouth turned into after spilling out the venom and seeing Miguel's discomfit grow.

Some people couldn't be helped. And Conchata truly couldn't help but love hurting her son. But you weren't having it. Not when Miguel's eyes turned away from her, not in hurt but in such anger that even you knew things wouldn't end up good for neither. And still, he regarded her with uninterested eyes.

His lack of engagement at her taunts, made her even more lashing. Like a little child that refused to have her whims met.

Even worse when Benjamin started to fuss and reach for him with a nervous cry. Even he felt odd and icky around her. You took Benjamin from her, cooing and soothing him, but he wanted Miguel. Who gladly took his precious baby, away from Connie. Inspecting him for any damage to finally kiss the top of his forehead, reassuringly.

You're safe.

"Si ya terminó de incomodarnos, creo que se puede ir, señora." (If you're done making us uncomfortable, you may go, ma'am.)

Her eyes widened at your spanish. It was clear that you had understood everything she had said, but were wise enough to not lose your temper, yet you fought back.

"Remind me to never visit you again, please."

"As if you ever do that. And no, it's not an invitation."

"Escúchame bien, chamaco ingrato-" (Listen to me you ungrateful brat)

"Ma'am."

You weren't one for yelling, but your voice was firm enough to have three pair of eyes set on you, Benjamin's fussing stopped. Conchata's lips turned into a scowl at your words.

"Thanks for your visit."

"You know, you could've settled for something better-"

"Así estoy bien, gracias. Now, if you excuse us, We've got dinner to make. The door is right there." (Im just fine. Thanks)

She left with a slam that had Benjamin cry out of the jumpscare.

Miguel hushed and rubbed his baby's back in little circles to keep him calm before giving his pacifier.

" You ok? "

Your hand squeezed Miguel's for a moment while he kissed your temple gratefully.

" Yeah. She's gone. That's why exactly I didn't invite her to the wedding or meeting you."

"It's alright. God... she's-"

"Annoying. I know. Sorry you had to hear all that."

"Nah. I'm glad you taught me cause, damn... Her face upon hearing me speaking it, was priceless. And just for you to know, I was about to explain how we almost made Benji on the car."

Miguel snorted and nodded, knowing you would. You had each other's back and that wasn't up for discussion.

" Te amo."

You mumbled in his ear before stealing a kiss from his lips.

" También te amo."

#miguel o'hara #t writes✨#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #soccer family ⚽🕷️#gabi o'hara #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara angst #conchata o'hara #benjamin o'hara #mama o'hara #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #x reader #astv fanfic

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arc-misadventures · 1 month

Note

What are Those?! AU: jaune mybe the only dragon faunus in the arc family but just because they don't have the features of a dragon does not mean those humans in the arc family do not have the heart and soul [[ and temper and Sadistic streek ]]of one,

Jacques Schnee finds this out the hard way when he tries to get jaune thrown in jail under false charges so he can take over jaunes business, Jacques Schnee is made an example to the rest of remnant on WHY YA DON'T PISS OFF THE ARC FAMILY

To Shreds You Say?

The tired slowly awoke from its slumber as it heard the soft repetition of several chimes that was its alarm clock. Or, in this case, it was, Jaune Arc’s tone.

The soon to be crowned dragon king rose from his bed, and grabbed his scroll, and register two things: That it was 3:27 in the morning. And, that his father was the one calling him at such an ungodly hour.

Jaune: Yeah…?

The weariness was palpable upon, Jaune’s voice as he yawned. He could see the handsome visage of his father, Acheius Arc staring back at him.

Acheius: ‘Yeah?’ That’s all your pops gets after not seeing him for so long. Not even a ‘hello dad?’

Jaune: Hellos are reserved for those who do not disturb the dead such as you have…

His father gave a short laugh at his comment. He knew his father was just teasing him, but nobody liked being woken up in the middle of the night.

It often meant something unexpected, and unwelcome had happened.

Acheius: See you finally ditched the onesie. About time you grew out of wearing that.

Jaune looked down to see he was bare chested. While he had stopped wearing, the reasons he hadn’t were nothing to do with his father’s words. Mostly.

Jaune: I would still be wearing it dad, but I ‘literally’ grew out of it. That, and I think one of my girlfriends stole it…

He tapped the ever present, and ever growing horns on his head.

Acheius: Ahh yes, your mother mentioned how you were growing more noticeable faunas traits. I must say horns were not on my bingo…?! Wait, did you say ‘girlfriends?’ As in, more than one?

Jaune: Dad while I understand you want to know what’s going on with my life, we both know you didn’t call me this early in the morning to catch up. What is it?

Jaune rubbed his face trying to wipe away the tiredness from his eyes. He father gave him a look before explaining his reasons for waking him up.

Acheius: It’s about that one of your diamond mines.

Jaune: Which mine?

That woke up, Jaune rather quickly. He turned his eyes to fully address his father as he was about to take in every word he was about to say.

Acheuis: The one at north east tip of, Vacuo: Raiders…

Jaune: Raiders Coast. There’s a diamond, and Dust mine located there, as well as a small town whose population mostly works there. What happened; Cave in, Grimm attack, raiders?

While, Jaune was highly protective of his diamond mines, to the point of fanatical, he cared more about the people working in his mines, than the diamonds themselves. A collapsed mine could be mine once again, and reclaimed. Peoples lives however, could not be so easily reclaimed. At most they could give the bodies of the dead a proper burial.

Acheius: A raid happened. Of sorts that is.

Jaune: Of sorts?

Acheius: A group of bandits attacked the mine. Trying to steal the, Dust, not the diamonds. They never touched your diamond vaults.

Jaune: They only went after the, Dust? Odd… They usually go after my diamonds; they’re easier to steal, and fence. Why only the, Dust though.

Acheius: Because they weren’t your typical, ‘raiders.’

Jaune: Explain.

Acheius: They were too organized, and disciplined to be your usual raiders. Not to mention all of them basically carried the same type of equipment: From weapons, to uniforms, to gear. Practically all identical.

Jaune: Identical…? Hmmm…

Jaune racked his mind as he pondered this information. A well organized, armed, and disciplined militia. That was an interesting tidbit of information.

There were dozens of gangs of bandits; large, and small in number strewn all about the desserts of, Vaccuo. But, only a few matched such a description. There was the, Bloody Skulls, they tended to be rather uniform in their appearance. There was the Dune Raiders, they had a lot of standardized equipment under their belts. The Scorpions were another, who followed this same rule, but their members tended to be branded with scorpion tattoos, and if it was one of them his father would have mentioned it. The Crowns had a habit of attacking his, Dust mines. But, just like the rest, he, and his family had hunted them down to extinction.

But, who ever attacked him only attacked the, Dust mine, not the diamond mine. Which left him with only one culprit left. The one person who would do anything do steal one of his, Dust mines.

Jaune: Jacques…

Acheius: Jacques? As in, Jacques Schnee? You think he is behind this?

Jaune: The bastard has been trying to get a foothold into, Vaccuo’s Dust mines for years, not to mention I am his biggest rival. Him taking one of my, Dust mines by force, and gaining a foothold in, Vaccuo is a two birds one stone scenario for him.

Acheius: Hmm… That makes sense. Luna’s been tracking the money that’s been deposited into their coffers, and she said it came from some company called, ‘Hybrid Enterprises.’ They’re registered as a, Atlasian company. Ring any bells?

Jaune: No, I’ve never heard of that company before.

: That’s because its a dummy corporation.

Jaune: A dummy corporation?

Acheius: I-Is someone with you, Jaune?

Jaune: Uhh…?

Jaune felt an arm wrap around his body as a head rested upon his shoulder. He could feel her bare chest against his back as his face was flush red. Not so much because he had a beautiful woman resting against him, more so because he had beautiful woman resting her body against him, and she was naked, and he was in the middle of a video call with his freaking father!

But, other than that things were okay.

Acheius: And… who are you…?

: My name is, Willow, Willow Schnee. You must be, Jaune’s father. Mr…?

Acheius: Acheius Arc…

Jaune: H-How do you know they’re a dummy corporation, Willow?

Jaune decided to take control of the conversation before it went somewhere he did not want it to go.

Willow: Because my… husband founded it. He uses them for all his shady back room deals: Bribery, stealing, blackmail, threats… various deplorable things such as that.

Acheius: It doesn’t surprise me that, that bastard would have such associates under his payroll. So he must have used this dummy corporation to hire these mercenaries.

Willow: They may not be mercenaries per-say. Tell me, did they have any badges on their uniforms, any iconography?

Acheius: No, their uniforms were clean of such items. But, there was a tattoo of a white raven on one severed arms of one of them, does that ring any bells, Mrs. Schnee?

Willow: Hmmm… White ravens…? Ah! Winter’s Cawl. They’re a private military force that’s under the, quote control of, Hybrid Enterprises. Really its under, Jacques’s control as his personal hitman army.

Jaune: He has an army?!

Willow: No, more than a couple hundred strong militia. But, they are well equipped for a group their size.

Jaune: Damn… I need to speed up the timetable for making my own military force then… Wait, severed? Did you cut off that guys arm dad?

Acheius: Ah no, that wasn’t me.

Jaune: Then who did it?

Acheius: Thiriana did it. A gunshot went off, and accidentally clipped her hair, singeing a bit of it, and… you know how protective of their hair they are.

Jaune: Ahhh… That explains that.

A small shiver of fear ran through his body as, Jaune remembered the hell the female members of his family raised when something happened to their hair.

Twas a horrifying sight to see.

Willow: I assume you left some of these ‘bandits’ alive to be interrogated?

Acheius: I tried to do so… but…

Jaune: What did my sisters do?

Acheius: More so what the bandits attempted to do. Several of them were using some of the miners children as hostages, and well, Thiriana, and Janette went feral.

Jaune: Ahh…

Acheius: Yeah…

Jaune: Were they quick?

Acheius: They weren’t quiet…

Jaune: Bloody hell…

Willow: Are all, Arc woman so violent?

JA: Yes.

Willow: Oh my…

Acheius: Unfortunately, we know who did it, but we don’t have any proof to convict, Jacques of ordering this attack on one of your mines.

Jaune: Dammit…

A low growl escaped his lips as he mulled over this information. They had information to convict, Jacques Schnee to various crimes, but they were all speculative however, easily dismissible in a court of law. One more the bastard would get away with things.

Or, so he thought.

A ringing sound soon went off on his father’s scroll, he quirked an eyebrow at the caller before he answered it.

Acheius: It’s your sister.

Jaune: Which one?

Acheius: Luna. I’ll put her on a combined call.

As he said that, Jaune was met with the sight of his sister, Luna who was looking positively radiant as she gave a pearly smile to the camera.

So long as one ignored all the blood on her face.

Luna: Hi Dad! And, hi, Ja…?! Oh… is… is that Mrs. Schnee. Willow Schnee of SDC draped over your shoulder…

Luna: Naked…?

Willow: I seduced a handsome young man that really, really knows how to show a woman a good time~! There’s nothing else to it.

Luna: S-She seduced you…?!

Jaune: No comment.

Luna: But, how did…?!

Jaune: No. Comment.

Luna: I shoved, Jacques into a cell, and you shoved it into his wife… The fuck is going on…?

Acheius: Wait, what did you say, Luna?

Luna: I uhh… I threw, Jacques into a cell.

JA: …

Willow: And, why is he in a jail cell?

Luna: Tried to bribe me for control of one of, Jaune’s, Dust mines. It was a poor bribe so I told him to shove it up his ass. He didn’t take too kind to that, so he told his ‘associates’ to convince me to ‘accept’ his deal. And, well… Long story short; the main office at the, Kantor Mines needs to be remodelled. And, Jacques Schnee is… currently being pelted with tomatoes as he is suspended ten feet in the air in a cage.

Willow: I see… So, how much do I have to pay for his release?

Luna: Ohh direct hit to the groin…

Jaune: Luna.

Luna: Huw? Oh yeah! Let’s see… Damage to the main office at. Kantor Mine. Shouldn’t be much to pay off. About three thousand Lien.

Acheius: You’re forgetting about all the havoc he caused at, Raiders Coast.

Luna: What happened at, Raiders Coast?

Acheius: You didn’t hear? I thought one of your sisters would have told you. It was attacked by a mercenary gang run by the, SDC.

Luna: Ahh, send me a list of the damages, and I’ll make a list of damage fees to send to, Jacques for him to pay.

Acheius: Alright, I’ll go…?

Willow: A moment if you will.

Acheius: What is it, Mrs. Schnee.

Willow: Why don’t you have, Jacques pay off the damages he has committed with some good old… manual labour~?

Jaune: You want him to work off his debt?

Willow: Indeed. The crimes he committed shouldn’t be simply payed off with money, they should be payed off with hard, back breaking labour.

Luna: But, his bill will be in the thousands, possibly the tens of thousands?!

Willow: So he will be working at this debt for years to come? Oh, what a shame.

Acheius: …

Luna: …

Acheius: Okay.

Luna: Seems reasonable.

Acheius: We still have to let, Atlas know that we have him in our custody.

Willow: And, tell them the SDC is doing everything in its power to get his… eventual release. Somewhere between six months to a year.

Luna: Okay, I can do that. Anything else I should tell him?

Willow: No, now if you’ll excuse me, I just got a rather invigorating second wind~!

Jaune: Second wind? What are you… Ahh?!

And, with in his question, Jaune yelped in alarm as he felt a beautiful lady’s hand descend lower to grab something particularly long, and hard in her hand.

Jaune: I-Igottagonowguys.Bye!

And, with that the call was cut on, Jaune’s wnd leaving the father daughter duo to look at each other with bewildered expressions across their faces.

Luna: Uhh… what just happened?

Acheius: I don’t… oh… Oh that’s what happened…

Luna: What happened?

Acheius: Quite simple. Learning that her husband is now in jail, giving, Willow time to take back her company has left her in a euphoric state of mind.

Luna: Oh, good for her. Getting rid of that bastard will do wonders for the world!

Acheius: Luna. She got off to the fact her husband is in jail, and wants to sleep with your brother again…

Luna: Dad, I fucking know that, I just didn’t want to think about my brother sleeping with a woman!

Acheius: Oh…

Acheius: Yeah, I don’t want to think about, Jaune sleeping with a woman your mothers age either.

Luna: The fuck did you have to say THAT?!!

Acheius: Whoops…

#rwby #jaune arc #jacques schnee #acheius arc #willow schnee #jaune x willow #willow x jaune

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cordyce · 1 year

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ao’nung the type of guy to have u sneak out of ur marui pod in an UNGODLY hour of the night just to take on a swim date to not have anyone around mhm and i have a lot to say abt this.......

⇢ WHISPERS & WAVES

ao’nung x gn!reader

includes: flirty ao’nung. sneaking out. fluff & shit.

notes: god he’s so aggravating i’d risk a scolding for him i really would. not proofread at all if u see mistakes then squint

you try to ignore it the first time. pretend you didn’t really hear it and simply doze back off.

"psst."

refusing to move from the comfort of your cot, you keep your eyes screwed shut and your body stiff so as to still appear asleep. after all, it is bad enough you have been stirred from your slumber, you aren't positive your family will take too lightly to being stirred from theirs.

"pssst!"

it's louder, this time, but yet you do not so much as twitch your toes. hopefully even if your family hears they will merely think it to be the wind brushing something against your shared marui pod. and, surely, your perpetrator would not keep this up if you did not give in to his pestering.

but you are very foolish to think that. and very, very wrong.

because he does not hiss out an alarm the third time, no. instead, a hand is wrapping around your ankle and tugging you across the woven floor, mat and all. your eyes dart open instantly, your body shooting up and hand flying to stop your late night intruder from his tugging on you. the scraping sound of his dragging halts immediately, and you flash a quick glance around your marui to clock the sleeping states of your family. thankfully, they still all seem settled into deep rest. a miracle, honestly.

"are you crazy?" you hiss, low and airy so as not to be heard.

"i knew you were awake," ao'nung simpers back, lets go of your ankle only to circle his grip around your wrist. "come on."

"it is the middle of the night, ao'nung." you do not hesitate to berate him, but you make no move to free yourself from his grip either. you wonder why you even play through this argumentative repetition anymore. maybe, it's to convince yourself that you do not hold these late night rendezvous at the same level he does.

(an incredibly false sentiment, regardless of how much mindless convincing you attempt to do).

"that's the point," he grins; wide and boyish and hopelessly endearing, as much as you hate to admit it.

but you must admit it—because it would be pointless not to—and you fault that disposition alone for not resisting one bit when ao'nung begins to pull you along by the wrist. all you're given is a split, shuffling second to glance back at your family before you're being whisked away down the netted pathways.

loosening up is easier with each footfall, and soon you don't even need ao'nung's persuasive vice to guide you along with him. you follow willingly, enticingly. your soles hit sand just as muted giggles begin to leave your mouth. ao'nung tugs at your tail, pinches at your waist as the two of you run across shore. breathy chuckles and dropped guards; you watch your volumes but not your hands.

night brings freedom—from analytical gazes, responsibilities, pressure. ao'nung likes the night, you have learned; thrives in it. perhaps another reason you find it so easy to give into him.

he sends a daring look over his shoulder as he begins to wade into the water. a taunt, a question. are you going to join me? you will join me, won't you? you will swim the seas with me until the sun burns out and night reigns forever and we are all that is left and—you will join me?

you will—you do. as soon as ao'nung turns back around to dive into the water you are rushing immediately after him. it's cold, chilling, against your skin as you break through it. but that does not mean it is unwelcome.

below the tide ao'nung greets you. he is still smiling, still keen, but it is softer. bubbles trickle from his lips to the surface like glitter chasing the heavens. he glistens and gleams and he is beautiful, here. you would not dare ever utter such a thing to his face for fear of it being held above your head for the rest of your adjoined lives. but it is truth and you stand by it, tuck it away into the crevices of your heart. within a file tagged: ma ao'nung alone, for only my eyes.

because this here, right now, is only for you, is it not?

ao'nung swims a circle around you, causes the ocean to spin you at its whim and you do not protest. you give way to see him like this; playful in the most innocent, pure sense. no animosity, so spite. you wonder if he even realizes how much of himself he gives away at times like these. if he's even aware he's baring bits and pieces of his soul to you.

you do not wish to complain and you will take all that you're given with outstretched hands and an ever-open heart. ao'nung is like the ocean: ruthless and unruly but strong and blanketing of all those held within him.

you have always been fond of the ocean.

his circling stops and he tips his head back up to the surface. more air, a need to breathe, he conveys. you've been so caught up in it all you hadn't even realized your chest had started to burn. funny, how such vital things can be pushed to the side.

you follow him, breach the sea and inhale until your lungs are satisfied. as you blink the water out of your eyes, you catch ao'nung's gaze. one beat, two beats—by the third you're laughing. at what, for why, you have no clue. but you aren't entirely sure there needs to be a comprehensible reason behind it.

it is warm and it is light, and that is enough.

"how about we play a game," ao'nung proposes. "whoever gets a shell from the ocean floor and makes it back to surface first wins."

"oh, you're so on," you snort, let a playful smirk tilt the edges of your lips. "do not cry too hard when i beat you."

"as if you could beat me," he snarks back, mirroring your grin, as he lines himself up with you. "go in three."

you narrow your eyes at him, splash a smidgen of water at his face just to vaguely throw him off his game. he splashes back, you do not fight it. you seem so drained of fight tonight.

"two."

ao’nung’s feet knock against yours underwater. an accident while keeping himself afloat, you know, but you still nudge him back with your own. his grin widens, you tip your head in a taunting manner.

"one."

now, in any other circumstance, one might expect ao'nung to be the cheating type. and, to be completely forthcoming, they'd be right. ao'nung is not a textbook cheater, you would say, but he knows his way about bending rules without causing the brittle decrees to break in order to turn the table in his favor. he likes to win, and he likes doing so by any means necessary.

but, that does not ring true in the case of you. ao'nung becomes a fair man within your presence. you like to joke that it's because he's scared of you, too afraid of what you might do in retaliation to his swaying. but you know that that is not the reason behind it at all. rather, he holds enough respect for you within his heart, that he would not try to pull your plug early. and you can't help but admire that.

especially now, as he even waits half a second after you take your dive to take his.

you know it will not make much difference and—despite your own competitive hunger to win—you know ao'nung could give you a five second head start and still best you easily. he is one of (if not the) strongest swimmers in your entire clan. you never had a fighting chance of winning, but you put on an act like you're trying to anyways, just to appease him.

you retrieve the first shell your hand grazes as you reach the bottom and instantly push off the sandy floor to race back to the top. and, just like you predicted, ao’nung is already a whole body’s length closer to air than you. his smile has turned triumphant, proud. you hate that you think it suits him.

you meet him above the waves only a few moments after he rises through them himself. he’s already opening his mouth for a tease before you even have the chance to move the sopping hair out of your eyes.

“what did you say, about beating me?” he goads, waving the shell he’s picked in front of your face. “i should have put some odds on the deal. what an easy win.”

of course it was, you want to say, but, “oh, shut it,” is what leaves your mouth.

you roll your eyes as you reach over to shove at his head. and he wastes no time in grabbing your arm, tugging you closer in the chilly water so that his chest brushes yours with every other flutter of your feet to keep you from sinking. his smirk is still there, still cocky and prideful and haughty, but his eyes twinkle with something more genuine in nature.

“why do you bring me out here, ao’nung?”

perhaps it is not something you should be so easily inclined to ask. not now, not when you are having such a good time with him. not while he’s got you so close. and yet, maybe that makes it the perfect time to ask such a thing. maybe, the heart finds it harder to lie when its pair is only separated by two inches of water and slanted ribs.

ao’nung’s snide expression falters; fizzles out like a star who’s died years ago and now it’s light has finally decided to dim. but it is not regretful, not bad.

it is more so contemplating, thinking of how to define its own existence.

“it is just… nice.” he juts out his bottom lip, drops his gaze from yours then back up. it’s so real, raw. he’s beautiful. “when everyone else is around, i get annoyed. they are all so nosy. and they—agh.”

he tries to throw his head to the side in a groan but you stop him. your hand molds to his cheek, brings him back to you. it’s almost comical, the pout on his lips.

“they what?” you ask, because you’d like to know. whatever it is.

and ao’nung takes a moment to chew it over. like he’s really having to think about if he really wants to tell you or not. (you think if he settles on not, you’ll just have to twist his ear until he agrees, but you don’t voice that just yet).

finally, he puffs out a breath. “everyone is just always looking. at you. at us. what we’re doing. and that’s just so…!”

“wait, you,” your eyes widen, the corners of your lips twitch up, “you’re shy!”

“i am not—“

“oh my eywa,” you laugh, wholly and totally uncaring of the volume of such now, “this is why you like to meet at night? when no one is around? that’s so—you’re so cute, ao’nung!”

“oh, i’ll show you cute,” he grumbles.

and suddenly you’re gasping as you’re being thrown back. a split second into the air before you’re splashing into the water. you’re all sorts of twisted around, but with a few passes of erratic thrashing, you make your way back up to the surface. you’re sucking in a breath as you hear ao’nung’s busting of a gut. you’re glad he finds nearly drowning you funny.

“oh now that,” he chuckles, reaches forward to sweep the mess of hair out of your eyes so that you can get the chance to glare at him properly. “that’s cute.”

“how do you somehow always end up spinning these things onto me?” you question, allowing him to pull you close once again, despite the chattering of your teeth.

“you just make it too easy,” he levels, pinching at your waist and laughing once more at how you jerk from it. and yet, you let him place your arms around his neck, don’t object to how he settles his own hands onto your hips submerged in the sea. how uncouth of you, your father might just be ashamed. but as ao’nung’s gaze softens, you can’t find it within yourself to care about his approval right now. “you make everything too easy.”

“why, prince ao’nung, are you flirting with me?” you ask through a faux gasp. and now it’s his turn to roll his eyes at you. but it is done lovingly, with a squeeze to your hips and another inch closer.

“i’m about to do a whole lot more than flirt,” he murmurs, darting his eyes to your lips, closing the gap that suddenly seems eons too far. light reflects off the droplets clinging to his lashes like a linear constellation, and you wonder if they’ll transfer across your cheeks as you let your eyes flutter shut with the first brush of his salty lips against your own.

moonlight tends to paint the prettiest pictures when it is veiling over tides and two young lovers, you think. beauty is forged among the whispers and waves.

likes & reblogs appreciated !

#THANK U FOR THE ASK ILY I HOPE THIS IS OKAYSJDH #blurb #ao’nung x reader #aonung x reader #ao’nung drabble #ao’nung x you #aonung x you #avatar x reader #atwow x reader #ao’nung fluff #aonung fluff #atwow fluff

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sunfyresrider · 9 months

Text

Memories

Lo’ak te Suli Tsyeyk’itan x Fem!Reader

Summary: After you go into labor unexpectedly it’s up to, Jake, your father in law and Lo’ak, your husband, to get you through it. Meanwhile, Lo’ak recounts all of the first times in your relationship while you’re giving birth to your first child. Tags: pregnancy, established relationship, fluff, small smut scene, Lo’ak being a dummy (himself), sentimental moments, Jake stressing, and finally birth (blood, contractions, and pain). Word Count: 2466. Author’s Note: I am not sure how I feel about this but it’s been in my head for so longggg. Actually, it’s my first time doing flashback scenes so lmk any constructive criticism. (I’ve never given birth either so I’m going off the top of my head.)

-Present

A relationship was filled with many first times, first date, first kiss, and first intimate experience. After so many firsts you would assume you would be prepared for the next, but nothing prepared you for this. More specifically, nothing prepared your husband for what was about to happen.

It was midday when you noticed something was up, your baby kicked in your belly more and the cramps came more frequently. You brushed it aside, assuming it was a false alarm. The hunting trip planned with your father in-law and husband was meant to be short and you couldn’t miss another family outing due to cramps. Although, now that you’re miles deep into the forest, stuck with two idiots you love dearly, you realize that was a grave mistake.

“Lo’ak…” you groaned, bent over gripping onto the nearest tree you could find. Both of their heads whipped around, “Baby?” You mustered up the strength to mutter the next words, watching as their faces trailed down your legs. A look of disbelief and terror glazing your husband’s eyes, “My water broke.”

In less than seconds you were on the ground, your legs spread and hands squeezing Lo’ak’s arm hard enough it was turning white. “What do I do? What do I do?” He was frantic, watching you writhe in pain and struggle to push. “Is that blood?!” Lo’ak looked mortified, were you bleeding to death? Does this happen during every birth? “Ok… ok, just push, baby girl.” His father sounded less than confident, sweat pooling at his forehead. Jake’s eyes purposefully avoided your lower regions, opting to stare with pained expression at your face. “Umm…”

“You’ve had three kids and you don’t know what you’re doing?!” The worry in his heart all but exploded at the realization, no one here knew how to deliver a baby. He felt his head become light as he stared at the blood, Lo’ak’s eyes began to droop and his body swayed back. A heavy slap sounded at the back of his head, drawing him back to the situation at hand. “Pull yourself together, boy! You’re a man! Act like it!”

You tried to block out their voices, think only about the precious life coming out of you. Whatever was going on in front of you was not your concern, though it was ceaselessly annoying. “Will you both shut up!” You screeched out and the forest around you went silent. A deep breath escaped your lungs, closing your eyes you began praying to Ewya for strength. All Lo’ak could was watch, his mind drifting back to where this all started.

-The First Meeting

Lo’ak was only six, rummaging around where he probably shouldn’t have been. He was somewhere in his grandmother’s hut, taking something he wasn’t supposed to. Lo’ak was tall for his age, yet somehow you managed to miss him completely and run directly into his back, knocking a pot of a mystery liquid all over the floor. He whipped around quickly, ears peeking up at the sound of glass shattering. “Owie,” you rubbed the spot on your head where he assumed you hit him.

“Watch where you’re going dummy!” He shouted, not thinking about how hurt you actually were. Your pained expression dropped, eyes narrowing at the sight of him. “Lo’ak Sully! You can not be in here!” At that instance he knew, you were a little shit. The one that always followed his grandmother around like a shadow, stealing all of Kiri’s attention away from everyone else. “Me? You’re in trouble for breaking that!”

You gasped at the glass, your eyes beginning to water. It must have been something special to get you to react like that. You stood up quickly, your tail lowered behind you and ears flattened against your skull. Lo’ak felt heartbroken for a moment, seeing you look so defeated. His dad always says to be nice to girls and already he was failing. He went to reach out, touch your arm in comfort or something. Then a deranged look appeared in your eyes,“Not if I tell on you first!”

“You little brat!” He couldn’t believe how easily you tricked him! You took off sprinting in the direction of the entrance, your tail whipping behind you frantically. He threw down whatever he originally planned on stealing and chased after you, no way was he taking the blame for this.

-Present

“Okay baby, just breathe in, 3…2…1” you took a deep breath, clenching his arm tightly with your first. “Now release and push,” he spoke lightly as to not piss you off any further. Jake was on the com with Neytiri, whose shouting voice could be heard from a mile away. Somewhere he found his sanity in reliving memories as he tried his best to coach you through it. You let out a strained cry and Lo’ak’s ears fell flat, “you’re doing great, tahni. A few more tries.”

-The First Date

Lo’ak had asked you out a hundred different times, each time had a different, more creative way of rejection. One more try, he promised himself as he made his way to your hut. This time he brought a bouquet of flowers he searched all over Pandora to find, did all girls like flowers? Kiri told him you liked variations of things, which was the opposite of specific. Lo’ak felt like an idiot waltzing around camp with a rainbow assortment held out in front of him, if you rejected him this time around he might just let a thanator eat him.

To his surprise, you said yes almost immediately and ushered him out of your hut with an unnerving haste. It was really awkward at first, the picnic he planned was too silent aside from the sounds of you chewing your food. He shuffled uncomfortably in his spot, clearing his throat to speak up. “I-“

“Lo’ak I like you, a lot,” you deadpanned, staring off into the distance. Lo’ak froze in place, his entire body language perking up at the thought. Then again, his ears could be betraying him. “It’s just… you know… My parents have already picked a match they’ll think will be suitable and I’ve never ever gone against them.” His joy melted away into a swirl of despair and disappointment. If he ever got shot, he could only assume it felt like this. “Who?”

His question was simple, what man did they think was so much better than him? “Atan, but I’ve never liked him and he has a weird face and-” Lo’ak couldn’t contain the chuckle that escaped him, were you really being serious? “Atan? Fucking Atan? The biggest idiot known to Na’vi kind?” A wave of superiority or maybe confidence knowing his competitor was a complete idiot enveloped him. His ears perked back up, a smile gracing his features. “Well yeah,” you looked at him incredulously, awaiting for his next words anxiously.

“Babe, I will literally sweep the floor with Atan.” He stood up from his position, determination all over his face. “Give me a month and your parents will regret ever considering him.” You were completely dumbfounded, mildly insulted on behalf of your potential mate. Lo’ak outstretched hand, signaling for you to take it. “Screw this, I’m meeting your parents tonight.”

-Present

“Neytiri is on her way with Kiri right now. Lo’ak get in position.” Jake spoke quickly as he took his seat on your other side, taking the place as your hand holder. Even while in the middle of birth both of the men took it as a very serious mission. “Yes sir, I can see the head.” The words fumbled out of his mouth before he realized what he was saying. “You’re doing great babygirl, just a few more pushes alright?” Lo’ak’s smile stretched from ear to ear, The head! He was looking at a baby’s fucking head!

-The First Kiss

The bioluminescent flowers perfectly illuminated your face, the freckles on your face decorating your every feature. Lo’ak couldn’t help but stare as you laid next to him so peacefully, basking in the light of Pandora’s moons. Your lips looked more tantalizing than usual, the plush softness all but invading his mind. You’d been going out for so long now surely it was past time to try or at least ask right?

“Tahni?” The words came out in a hushed whisper, stirring you awake. “What is it, Lo?” You glanced up at him, an expression you’ve never seen before gracing his features. There was a river of emotions flooding behind his eyes, making your breath hitch in your throat. “Can I kiss you?”

There was a beat of silence as you stared into his eyes. A moment where your heart swelled in your chest as the butterflies began to flutter in your stomach. And then your lips were pressed against his, fumbling against each other as you learned to move in sync. Your hands came up to his face, cupping his cheeks as you felt his rough ones against your waist, pulling you closer.

When you pulled apart, your faces were both purple from the lack of air. Lo'ak's mouth hung open as he tried to catch his breath, his thumb rubbing over your bottom lip. His eyes were blown out in lust, a silent plea to touch him again. You bit your lip, forcing back the giggle threatening to escape your throat. “Can we do it again, please?”

-Present

The baby was nearly out, you were almost free from the seemingly endless suffering. Your breaths were weighted, "One last push. You're doing great. Keep going!" Lo’ak did his best to encourage you, watching your face as you focused all your energy into pushing. “You did this- I-I’m gonna k-kill you!” This was his fault, you weren’t the one that had an appetite like a starved animal. Your hands tightened on Jake as you cursed out your husband. Lo'ak wasn’t offended, in fact the memory brought him nothing but joy.

-The first time

Your bodies intertwined perfectly, his movements slow, almost teasing, as he pushed himself inside of you. He wanted to feel every inch, every second, every movement. Lo’ak wanted you to feel him, to remember his shape, to know how well he fit inside you. He wanted this feeling to be ingrained into your memory so the next time you laid down, he was the only thing you could imagine.

From your connection, Tsaheylu, Lo’ak knew he was doing better than expected, that you loved him more than he believed. His love for you grew deeper, he felt your heartbeat, the rhythm of your breathing, the pulsing of the blood coursing through your veins. Your love was a beautiful melody he could listen to for the rest of his life.

His pace quickened, on your command, of course. He couldn't deny his queen a thing she wanted. He pushed himself in further, making sure to hit the spot that made your back arch, your toes curl, and your moans louder. He felt it, the tightening, the way your walls closed around him. Your fingers clawed into his back, pulling him closer, deeper, tighter, as if there was room for him to go. Lo'ak's breath was uneven as his climax neared, his lips pressing against your neck, his hands grabbing at whatever they could reach.

That feeling of bliss, the one he longed to reach. You were the only one who could take him there, the only one that made him feel anything, the only one he could let his guard down with. You were the only one he trusted, the only one he needed. Lo’ak movements became frantic, feeling you reach your own release, the sounds that slipped from your lips driving him mad. Your cries filled the forest, his name on your tongue, begging him not to stop.

He didn't want to finish, he wanted this to last, to feel this way forever, with you. It was too much, his body wasn't letting him hold on any longer, so he let go. Your name rolled off his tongue, over and over again, a prayer, a thanks, a confession. It was a moment of pure bliss, a moment that Lo'ak would never forget.

"I love you."

-The first child

You let out one final scream, using up all of your strength. You felt all the pressure within you snap, the constant ache disappearing into oblivion. For a moment, the forest was completely silent, only your ragged breaths filling the air. That was until the screams of a newborn child echoed in the trees.

Lo’ak was the first to see her, to hold her, and to bask in her beauty. “It’s a girl,” he said softly, looking back at you, his smile so bright it could light up the entire moon. She was small, her skin a beautiful hue of blue, her head full of black hair. Jake’s arms snaked around you, pulling you into his lap, holding you as if you would break if he didn't. o'ak was mesmerized by the new life that he helped create.

“Give her to me, Lo.” you held out your arms, a warm smile on your face. Lo'ak couldn't deny his queen a single thing. As carefully as he could, he handed his daughter over to her mother, a sigh of relief when the baby immediately stilled in your grasp.

He was in complete awe. She was perfect, from her tiny toes, to her chubby little cheeks, she was the most beautiful thing Lo'ak had ever seen, besides her mother. Tears began to pool in his eyes, his chest swelling with pride. You and his daughter were everything to him. The love of his life, and his precious little princess. Lo'ak was never good with words, and right now was no different.

“I’m so proud of you both.” Jake spoke like a true father. The sounds of twigs cracking and feet scurrying across the floor caught Jake’s immediate attention. He could already hear the weighted breaths of Neytiri and Kiri as they neared you.“Ma Jake!” Neytiri ran towards you quickly, faltering in her steps as she looked at the scene before her.

Neytiri's hands moved over her heart as she watched, A tear began to streak down her face, a large closed mouth smile stretching from ear to ear. Kiri was already standing over you, no doubt asking too many questions about your health. Lo’ak had moved to where Jake once was, cradling you whilst rubbing soothing circles onto your hand. His tail swayed behind him, his head tilted downward, and his eyes fixed on the gift from Ewya in your arms.

“The first grandchild,” Neytiri murmured next to her mate, reminiscing on the birth of their first child. “Damn, we’re old,” Jake muttered, a soft chuckle escaping him.

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hopelessrromantix · 8 months

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Okay, but sandman is SO GOOD. Maybe the reader being good friends with Morpheus and getting secret admirer notes delivered by ravens? And obviously Morpheus has Absolutely no idea who might be writing these letters to his friend. No, the ravens look nothing like *his* ravens. He has no idea what you are talking about.

I AGREE anyway more sandman reqs pls

(reader is personification of Love)

If you didn’t know Dream of the Endless as well as you did, you would’ve been insulted.

Sending love notes?

To Love?

Usually notes to you were full of empty promises and false feelings. But did he truly think sending a love note would give him any sort of anonymity? You could practically feel the love soaking the page the second the paper touched your hand. And though the letters were only signed “One Who Loves You” you weren’t as oblivious as Dream seemed to think.

In the beautiful, intricate realm that you ruled over, full of your beloved roses and the array of other lovely flowers, a jet black raven stood out. Especially when the people of your realm knew their ruler was friends with an Endless known for his ravens. Plus, they loved gossiping about you and Morpheus.

Echoing footsteps brought your attention down the steps of your throne to the entryway.

“Eros. What news?” You questioned, recognizing the man at the door.

He was one of your most trustworthy cupids and he'd been working with you ever since you created him. He was shorter than you, but obviously very physically strong.

“Ah, well…” He trailed off a bit before he was interrupted by a caw, a pair of black wings entering your throne room. “... he sent another, your majesty.”

“I can see that,” You hummed. You held out your arm, silently giving permission for the bird to land on you and hand over the letter in its mouth. “I take it I still don’t get to know who these are from?” You asked, your tone light.

“Nope. Sorry, uh, your highness.”

You laughed at the bird (it hadn’t even told you it’s name). “Princes are ‘highness’, you mean ‘your majesty’.” You joked, smirking at the alarm that flashed through its eyes.

“Right. Knew that. Sorry, your majesty.”

“Love works just fine, my dear.” You waved off his apology, letting him fly off.

“You’re still playing along, my lord?” Eros questioned, a wide smirk on his freckled face.

You chuckled. “It’s sweet, don’t you think?” You unraveled the tied letter, your eyes scanning the scrawled text. “‘Your features steal the breath from my body and your words the heart from my chest.’ I don’t think even I could write better.” You smiled. Morpheus was not a man you imagined would pour his heart out like this, but in fairness, maybe he really did think you didn’t know.

You could hear Eros mumbling under his breath. “You only think so because you love him… your grace.”

You sighed. Love could drive people mad, you were very good at it. But when you were the one in love, it didn’t seem quite so mad.

“You dislike him?”

“I dislike his pathetic idea that Love themself is not capable of knowing who sends ravens to their doorstep.” You raised a brow at him. “Your eminence.”

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t care about the title, Eros.” You huffed, smiling at your second in command. “He’s not pathetic, he’s in love. Love makes everyone just a bit dizzy, hm?”

“You mean love makes everyone pathetic?”

“Love only makes you pathetic if you ignore it. So how about I give Morpheus a push.”

"Dream Lord." You greeted, nodding as he entered one of the many rooms in your Haven.

"Love."

You smirked at the formality.

You laid back against the rather dramatic chaise you owned, the blood red color complimenting the robes you wore.

He took a seat on one of the chairs by your legs, the deep color contrasting his pale skin. He looked beautiful.

You swung your legs around, leaning toward him on the seat. "You know, you are my closest friend, Morpheus." You began, dropping the titles.

"A position I hold with pride, Y/n."

He was always charming for a man so cold.

“As such I must confess to you, I’ve been receiving love letters as of late.” You watched him tense slightly, a movement you doubted anyone else would be able to catch.

Your finger met his thigh, tracing whatever patterns came to mind. “Don’t you always?” He questioned.

“These ones are special.” You smirked, your eyes glimmering as you felt the familiar feeling of love in the air. “They’re beautiful. Written by someone who’s fallen in love with me.”

He smirked to himself, “Doesn’t everyone who writes you say the same things?”

You nodded and sighed, letting your cheek rest on his thigh, internally smiling at the way he instantly froze. “They’re never truly in love with me. Just the concept of Love itself. But these letters, whoever writes them truly loves me.”

“And what do you think of them?” His attempt to question you, clearly struggling on where to put one of his hands. You helped him out eventually, grabbing it and holding it in your own.

“I think they’ve insulted me greatly.��

“Insulted you?”

You didn’t miss the worried look in his eye. You could feel how fast his heart beat, how the love persisted, but fear tainted it.

“Yes,” You sighed, allowing the panic to seep in a second longer. Perhaps you were a bit petty that Morpheus didn’t think you were strong enough to sense when someone was in love with you. You were Love itself, after all. Plus, not many deities were known for their talking ravens.

“And how have they managed this?” He questioned, his voice quieter than before.

“For some reason, they have assumed that I, Love themself, cannot sense when someone loves me.”

“I see.” He opened his mouth to say more but you stood up from the chair, now standing over the man before you.

You brought a hand up to his chin, fingers tilting his head up to look at you. You felt the rush of love in the room, love he had attempted not to show. “Only the overconfident or the hopelessly romantic send letters to Love,” you explained. “Tell me, Dream of the Endless, which are you?”

“Me?” He questioned. Perhaps he was too shocked by your question, but you wondered if he really didn’t think you knew.

“Did you think a raven flying through my palace wouldn't start up rumors? Besides, even now I can feel your love pulsing beneath your skin.” His eyes left yours, feeling less confident under your gaze. “You really thought I wouldn’t recognize someone in love?”

"I meant no offense," he nervously clarified. You chuckled at his tone, far less commanding than you usually saw from the Dream King.

"I know you didn't, Morpheus." You reassured, smiling down at him. "If I loved you any less I might have been upset."

You watched as your statement set in, his demeanor softening. The relief in his soul was palpable.

You gripped his chin softly, still tilting his head up to face you. His skin was warm against your fingers, the love he held for you burning just beneath the surface.

"You return my feelings?"

"‘Your features steal the breath from my body and your words the heart from my chest'." You smiled softly, watching him melt into your hand. "That is what your most recent letter said, correct?"

He only nodded, too caught between how softly you held him and how lovingly you looked down at him.

"Will you kiss me?"

"Only if you let me love you."

"I'd be a fool if I didn't."

#secret admirer #male reader #dom male reader #top male reader #x reader #gnlm #morpheus x reader #morpheus #gn reader #gender neutral reader #god reader

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ghouljams · 6 months

Text

@maelstrom007 you're right Love getting tapped is so good, we love a little light(moderate to severe) hypnosis. Have fun, stay safe, I haven't written for these two in a while.

Simon catches you in a bar. You're late getting home. Which is pretty much exactly what you planned on being. Just on the right side of drunk and having the best time. Even better seeing his skull mask stalking towards you. All the shadows on your body buzz excitedly, Simon's mark squirms under your skin eager for what it knows is coming next. Your favorite preventative measure for a hangover, and your favorite weapon in your monster's arsenal. You hold your arms out to catch him when he reaches you, amd are scooped up nice and tight against his chest with a grumble.

"Lover," you drawl, pulling the r too long, "you always know just when to find me, I was getting so bored." Ghost blinks slow at you, like a cat.

"You're fuckin' hammered," he tells you, and you wiggle in his arms.

"Just a few bottles deep, I had to keep up with the others," you tell him, he shakes his head.

"You've flipped French love, can't understand a word," he growls. The crowd parts for him, strangers stepping out of the way as he carries you towards the door. That makes sense you suppose, you have had a lot to drink and this tends to happen. You shouldn't be expected to speak English all the time, you are full of talents and other words and you are damn well doing to say them.

You prattle to him in French as the crowd moves and flows around the two of you. You pluck at Simon's tethers, picking out the ones that give you the brightest burst of sensation and toying with them. His growling grows louder, the rumble of it starting to alert the rest of the crowd that there's a predator in their midst.

He sets you down against the bar, holding you firmly between his hands. He stares you down like he's trying to glare a new hole in you. After a moment he reaches for your face and you can't stop yourself from lighting up. He grabs your chin instead, his eyes crinkle at the edges.

"You're tryin' to get tapped," he accurately guesses. You pout, and he presses his thumb against your lips. The bass of the bar's music thumps in time with your heart, hammers in your ears. He chuckles, low and dark, it's the loudest sound in the room. "And ya didn't wanna ask for it, little brat." He pushes his thumb into your mouth, presses it down against your tongue. "Spendin' too much time with Soap."

He lets you attempt to explain yourself, holding your mouth open each time you attempt to speak. Ghost leans close, and you wonder if he might kiss you, he even pushes his mask up. The best you get is his tongue pushing in next to his finger, dipping into your mouth briefly before he spits on your tongue. You shudder. If there weren't so many people in this bar...

"Alright, let's get you home," Ghost relents pulling his thumb free and smearing your drool across your cheek. You sigh, fishing around in your purse for your phone, figuring you'll call an Uber. His fingers press against your forehead the second your guard drops.

The world pitches forward, all the colors of the room bleeding together as Ghost catches you and hauls you up over his shoulder. Your limbs feel like they're made of TV static, like every inch of you has fallen asleep at the wrong angle. Pins and needles in the most pleasant way. It's like you're floating. Your mind can't focus on anything, too busy floating with the rest of your body to notice the way Ghost stalks towards the exit, the way his shadows smoke and slither over your skin. You simply hang over his shoulder and enjoy the ride.

You think your vision might have gone black. Oh, no, no you closed your eyes. Nope it's black. Oh no, false alarm you're staring at Simon's sweatshirt. You twist your fingers into the fabric, you think you do anyway, and hold onto him. Ghost echoes in your mind, that low chuckle, the rumble of his growl, you wish he'd had time to dirty talk you more. Brat or no you got what you wanted. The best high money can't buy, all yours for the low price of your whole life.

Pretty sweet deal when Simon drops you on the bed as soon as you're home. Strips you and crawls over you, arranges you exactly how he likes, and hikes your legs up over his shoulders. All his, you think, utterly and completely his. That's why you went out tonight, because you knew he'd find you and take you home to keep you. It's a wonderful game you play, one that has a winner every time. But when Ghost pulls his cock free of his pants, already achingly hard and drooling for you, you're not sure who the winner is. Maybe both of you. It certainly feels like both of you when he pushes into your cunt, already nicely molded to his shape, and you both groan.

"Yes," you whine, trapped with sluggish limbs and a fuzzy brain as he pushes in and out of your dripping cunt. His hips snapping against yours, his teeth teasing the length of your neck when he leans over you.

"Mine," he tells you, reminds you with the points of his teeth and the drag of his thick cock against your walls. Each thrust seems to drag you further into the magic he worked on you, pulls you further under water, under his spell. He never needs to tap you more than once to have you exactly where he wants you.

"Yours," you agree, feeling his teeth press against your skin. Never enough to break skin, just enough to keep you on edge, just enough to frighten you. So what if you're both winners, winning feels fucking great.

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rippersz · 9 months

Text

𝔈𝔵𝔭𝔩𝔬𝔰𝔦𝔳𝔢

・—・—・—・—・—・

(A Jane Murdstone x Maid!Reader oneshot) (Angsty/Romantic) (TW: Mentions of lesbianism being a disease; Bad self-image) (Reader is chubby :>)

・—・—・—・—・—・

You think you talk softly at night, but you don’t. And certain curious ears often overhear what should not be whispered - not even in the black of the evening.

・—・—・—・—・—・

There was a single window in your bedroom. It was slim, framed by white wood, made spotless by your hands, and had a sill large enough to lean your entire body against. You tried sitting on it once before, but the second it creaked beneath your weight, you scrambled off and vowed not to test it again.

On sunny mornings, the clean glass panes greeted the rays of the sky and let them into the room with open arms. Although it was annoying at first, having to wake with the sun, it eventually became a benefit. You did not have to invest in alarm clocks with the few bits of coin you got, nor ask a fellow maid to wake you. And even if you did- you couldn’t. Being a Lady’s maid offered many things, but companionship wasn’t one of them. In your little room, it was just you. You and the sun in the mornings and you and the moon in the evenings. The stars stayed around all day, mostly hidden and mostly silent. They whispered hellos when you dipped into your room throughout the working hours, taking a moment of solitude to breathe and freshen yourself up in the length of your mirror. They watched as you did that, too - as you fixed your hair and cleared your throat and settled your face and smoothed down your apron and smiled falsely at yourself, wondering briefly if it would please a certain someone. It never did. The stars told you it never did and it never did. But nonetheless, you straightened your back and reset your shoulders and carried on throughout the minutes and hours and tasks of the day until you could finally return to your room again and sidle up to your window and indulge. Finally finally indulge. Finally give yourself a moment of reprieve. Finally grant yourself some closeness with something other than the houseplants.

“Hello.” You spoke softly, heart pounding in your ears as you carefully leaned against the sill and opened the window. It made a little cracking noise - forcing you to pause and listen - before giving way and going up smoothly. During those bits of time, you held your breath; scared half to death that someone would think you’re opening the window to try and escape - or that you’re doing it to disobey or something similar to that. You weren’t, of course. You didn’t have much desire to leave - and you never opened the window during the day. No, only at night. Only when the moon crested over the dark tree-lined horizon, smiling softly and humming beneath her breath. Only when she was in perfect view of your wanting eyes, shimmering instantly at the sight of her cool glow. Like a sprinkle of hope within desolation. Like a lifeline when you fell so hard that your body refused to work. Like the only force in the universe that you felt comfortable sharing your greatest secret with.

A great secret that… well, if it got out, you’d be ruined. Finished. The maids would whisper and the guests would gasp and any future employers would look upon you with utter disdain before sending you away to a place to be fixed.

Cured.

Because you were diseased. Because no woman with breasts and hips like yours, wider than most, bigger than most, should ever yearn for another woman. And no woman, with a heart like yours and soul like yours, should ever want anything other than a man. Because men were your end and beginning. Men were your chains, your roots, the grounding element. Men- a man - kept you in that house. Kept a roof over your head and food on your table. Kept you warm and busy. Kept you with at least one coin in your pocket at all times. Kept you from running off into the wilderness and dying in the snow. Kept you from thieves, and raiders, and other villainous beings you’d heard whispers of. Kept you working, resting, breathing.

But he never kept you living.

And he never kept you wishing.

And he never kept you dreaming.

And he certainly never kept you loving.

No… no he didn’t do that. He didn’t have the privilege.

But his sister did.

Oh his sister did.

She did - over and over and over again.

She kept you existing. She kept you wanting to get up in the morning. She kept you desperate to be of service. To do a good job.

Hanging on to her every word. Her every breath.

Ms. Jane Murdstone.

Your executioner. Your greatest secret.

When waking from slumber, she smelled like fresh linen and rosewood. When dressing, taking her morning tea, and allowing you to do her hair, she smelled like earl grey and fresh snowbells. When going about her day, dealing with business and spending time with needlework, she smelled of newspaper and lightly roasted coffee. And when the sun fell and it was time to take out her hairpins and slip a nightgown over her head and throw more logs into the fireplace and fix her up a final cup of tea, she smelled like the stars. And the stars, in turn, smelled like love.

Your love.

All of the love you held and hid for her. All of the love you shoved into a withered corner of your mind when standing behind her in the mirror of her vanity, palms caressed by soft dark strands of hair and gaze forced to look away from the glass for fear of revealing every little thought you had. It was maddening to be anything less than her lover, but you knew better than to assume you could ever be anything more than her maid. Her maid. Lady Jane Murdstone’s maid. A woman above all women. A mortal above all gods.

Though perhaps that was your penchant for dramatics talking.

She was no god. Sure, she was cruel like one. And occasionally arrogant like one. And cold like one. But ultimately she did little more than run the house and offer advice to her brother when he needed it. Though still, that within itself, in comparison to your little societal standing, was considered godly. Was considered… better. For she was better. Better than most women. Better than most Ladies. Some of them were horrid. Some refused to make eye contact with their maids, while she insisted upon it. Some kept their maids up until they swayed with exhaustion, while she preferred an early bedtime. Some threw things at their maids, were violent with their maids, but the only weapons she used were her words. They cut deep enough, she knew - and they never drew upon the mess that was bloodshed.

And you loved her.

You weren’t entirely sure why, but you did.

It could have been the way her lips pursed, maybe. They were a gentle pink, with a defined cupid’s bow and a sweeping lower lip and a small scar on the right side of the top one. Or it could have been her eyebrows and how expressive they were, how they twitched when she was contemplating something or furrowed when she was angry (which was often). Perhaps it was her skin and how pale it was… how flawless… how it glowed white in the sun and went warm beneath the flickering of the fireplace. Hell, it could have been her voice. Low, occasionally soft and placating and mean, nearly melodic when the sound of her accent twirled like vines around each syllable. As though each day she grabbed the English language by the balls and made it her bitch. The brief thought of that always made you smile secretly to yourself. Jane Murdstone… grabbing a language and owning it… honestly it wasn’t far from the truth. But then again, maybe your love didn’t stem from any of that. Maybe it wasn’t her incredible height and the way she towered and maybe it wasn’t how her dresses cinched so much at her waist that they left you curling your gaze over the small of her bust and width of her hips with desire. Maybe it wasn’t how long her thin tapered fingers were or how strong her grip seemed to be or how talented she was with a needle. Maybe it wasn’t her dark hair, secretly wavy and long, consistently tied into a severe bun. And maybe- somehow, maybe- it wasn’t her eyes either. Blue and icy and feeling like the chill of ocean waves whenever they ran over you, whenever they drowned you. Taking you in and criticizing and judging and accepting that you were different from the other maids. That your fingers weren’t bony and spindly like theirs and you couldn��t fit through the cracks of doorways like them and your cheeks were naturally bigger, with more fat and more sheen - consistently giving away a violent blush whenever you walked up a flight of stairs too fast or hurried along a hallway too quickly. Your thighs mushed together, gladly touching, leaving you with a bad chafe on the worst of days and some redness on the best - and your venus mound and ‘muffin top’ as some of the other maids liked to call it - were more pronounced and much harder to suck in when you were feeling insecure. Which was often. Nearly always. Only going away and fading when you went to sleep, just to find you again the next morning and force you to face yourself in the mirror. In your own and in your Lady’s, both of which you did try to avoid.

But you wanted to be perfect for her - so you faced your self-hatred and fussed over your appearance until the voices gave up with one large combined sigh and sent you on your way.

And in the vanity, you only glanced when you felt it was safe - and never to look at yourself but always to see how pretty Ms. Murdstone’s reflection was in the sparklingly clear glass. To see how she chewed on the inside of her cheek while reading a novel, to see how she closed her eyes gently when powdering her face. To see how the blue of her irises lit up like lightning through the din of dark clouds once she realized that it was a perfect day to go for a walk in the gardens.

But beyond that, beyond her, you couldn’t stand yourself. You couldn’t stand your weight, your short height, your fidgety anxious nature, your too-romantic heart, your love of pretty things, your bone-deep, terrible, horrible, most horrid disease… You hated it all. You wanted to be better. You wanted to be cured.

But you didn’t want to lose her.

“Gods it’s chilly tonight, isn’t it?” You let out a little huff, crossing your arms and clinging to yourself.

The moon stayed silent, watching you shiver.

“Are you keeping warm?” You knew she couldn’t respond. “I bet it’s quite hard up there in the clouds. With all that… wind.” You also knew she lived in space and you knew space held no wind, but it gave you peace of mind to humanize her a bit. To connect as though she could hear you.

She never spoke. Never moved. She simply watched, listening as you sighed and propped your elbows up on the window sill and leaned against your hands, eyes tired and shining as you stared up at her.

“Just another day down, isn’t it?” You kept your voice soft for fear of waking up the entire house. It certainly didn’t help that your room was right beneath Lady Murdstone’s, but it wasn’t like you were loud. Ever. Honestly, you were quite the opposite. You rarely talked around her. A small ‘Yes, My Lady’ did well enough most times. And she didn’t seem to take offense to it, thank goodness; quite frankly she preferred the quiet anyway. And that was fine by you. You could admire from afar without risking an embarrassing voice crack or weird sound. The moon, on the other hand, heard all of your little scoffs and sighs and groans and squeaks. You often imagined her smirking at you, amused by your expressions as you talked. “I’m happy you’re here tonight, though. Today was tiring but good. My Lady was in one of her better moods… she even let out little hums when eating her toast this morning.” A smile curled onto your lips. “She never used to do that. Or maybe still doesn’t… I don’t know. I think only tomorrow will tell.” There was a pause as you took a moment to listen to the sounds outside. Lightning bugs flitted around from behind the wire-meshed screen, and other various little critters clicked their legs together and chirped and ruffled the bushes outside of your window. It was very soothing, all of the background noise. It made your one-sided chat less awkward than it could have been. “…Will you be here then, as well? Tomorrow? Because it’s Friday and My Lady spends most Fridays doing needlework and the- goodness the complacency,” you sighed and shook your head, smiling at the thought of her little grumbles as she either stuck herself or missed a stitch, “it makes her cranky to say the least.” Your lips were stuck in a permanent simper. “Cranky… and yet endearing.”

You paused, tilted your head, and wondered over your own words.

“Well,” your eyebrows raised while you snorted, “No one’s ever described her as that before, I’m sure… But it’s true. Sometimes she can be endearing. Sometimes she can even be… domestic. Soft, almost.” You mused aloud, nodding. “I mean other maids can’t see it, of course. But she can be. You’d even be surprised.” The moon was silent. “Like she… well I know that she knows lullabies. She hums them sometimes when she’s preoccupied, right before realizing what she’s doing and then stopping…” Your lips twitched into a frown. “…like she doesn’t want to reveal that she knows stuff like that. Soft stuff like that, is what I mean.”

The moon didn’t even blink as you chose to change your train of thought, finding the one you were on to be too dull. Your heart was full after all, and the night was growing darker, and you could feel exhaustion pulling at your body, and you wanted to scream your love to the heavens… but you couldn’t. So you chose to whisper it instead.

“I’m very lucky to be here with her, I think.” Your eyes traced the hazy horizon. “I’m honestly not sure what I’d do if I weren’t with her here. I can’t- gods I can barely remember what life was like before I met her… All I can tell you is that it was dull.” The moon shimmered. “Anything without her is dull. When she goes on business trips with her brother, or spends some time away at one of the seaside homes, the world loses its color. And I’m left to- to just rot here, dwelling in the blacks and whites and greys.” Your shoulders and neck felt tense. “If I could go with her, follow her everywhere, I think I would. Even if she led me straight off a cliff, I think I’d still go willingly……. Though maybe that’s foolish to say. Maybe I wouldn’t follow her at all and would instead try to save her from falling off the edge herself. Maybe I’d beg her to hold on a little bit longer… I’m not sure.” The moon seemed to sigh with you then, inhaling and exhaling into the ether as you ran your hands through your hair and yawned into your forearm. “But either way - I’m glad I’m here by her side. I’d rather it be me, who wants to do a good job, than a girl who is too scared to face her. She hates that, you know. When others become timid and slow because they can’t meet her ‘head-on’, so to speak.” Your fingers did the little quotation marks as you pushed more of your weight against the windowsill. “She doesn’t accept anything less than perfection…. Which is interesting, considering I’m far from perfect. In fact, many of the other maids would be great candidates for my position. And yet… they’re not. I’m still here. Employed and happy - or, well, as happy as one can be in this state,” you shrugged, moving to run your hands over the lines in the wood. “…I just- I just wish- I ugh I just wish…,” your voice got very quiet, your heart got very slow.

“………….I just wish she’d notice me…….”

But it was silly to want that.

And it was silly to daydream. And it was silly to wish for what could not happen. Because tall slim Ladies did not want chubby little maids. And cruel gods did not want pitiful humans. And women did not want women because that was sick and terrible and you were sick and terrible and Lady Jane Murdstone would never be sick and she would never be terrible.

And as you closed the window and smiled one last little smile at the moon and said your silent goodbyes, your mind strayed to nothing else but the woman sleeping in the room above yours.

・—・—・—・—・—・

Every night the moon felt gracious enough to show her face through the clouds and trees, you grasped the moment in both of your hands and thanked her with your words.

“You look beautiful tonight. I’m sorry I didn’t mention it earlier. I know our chats have become a bit dull because I’m tired all the time, but I promise I cherish every moment I have with you. Seeing as you’re the only one keeping me company… well I appreciate your presence, either way. And I wish- hope- that your light is spilling into the window of My Lady’s bedroom right now too, making everything white and glowy as she sleeps. Rests. Cuz she deserves that more than anything. The days can be difficult for her….. And unfortunately all I can do is hope that she gets the rest she deserves. Which is deep and long and full of the best dreams a woman is capable of having.”

Sometimes, you cried to her too.

“She barely looked at me today. Sometimes I think she thinks I’m disgusting… and doesn’t really want me anymore. And maybe she’s just forcing herself through it, seeing as she doesn’t have to look at me if she doesn’t want to.” Hot tears ran down your cheeks. “And I don’t think she wants to. I don’t think she’ll ever want to. Someone so- someone so beautiful- should not have to gaze upon me. Should not have to cringe. Sometimes I wish I could apologize to her for it. I wish I could offer to wear a mask of some sort so that she’d feel more comfortable. But I can barely get myself to speak to her… I’m so scared that she’ll blink and realize what’s been standing before her all this time and find that she absolutely abhors it. And will want me gone.”

Sometimes, you hummed.

A small low melody vaguely reminiscent of one of the ones Lady Murdstone had been singing beneath her breath earlier that day. You weren’t able to memorize each pitch and tone then, but you improvised and repeated the parts you knew over and over until you got sleepy. And even in your dreams, even randomly in the shower, or the halls, or the kitchens or gardens, you found a sweet little tune dancing across your tongue.

Sometimes, you even read.

Maids were allowed to take one book out per month from the Murdstone family library. Some chose novels, some chose picture books, some chose short stories - but you always managed to find and pick a collection of poems. Some small, some large, some old, some modern. You treated them like infants, clutching the book to your chest like a child you swore to protect. Which, in some ways, was true. You couldn’t lose it- couldn’t damage it- for fear of being punished. Though one time around, you took a risk. A minor, nearly imperceptible risk that would not have alerted anyone if they didn’t know what they were looking for. After managing to sneak in a spot of research when no one was looking, you caught eye of a specific collection atop one of the tallest shelves in the library. It had two worn red hardcovers, fabriced and scratchy, with a golden title engraved on the spine: Sappho’s Best.

‘I desire; And I crave.’

‘You set me on fire.’

‘Eros; Giver of pain…’

‘I tell you; someone will remember us; in the future.’

‘I don’t know what to do: I am of two minds.’

‘Love shook my heart; Like the wind on the mountain; Troubling the oak-trees.’

‘…You burn me…’

The moon beamed brightest when you read from the heart.

And once she became new, waning into darkness before waxing again, you took the time to pay attention to the stars and give them a small talk as well.

“I always wish upon you all, by the way. Especially the one that burns the brightest - which is that one, tonight.” You pointed to it, fingertip brushing the window’s wire-mesh screen. “Hi, pretty…” A smile washed over your lips. “…You know I think My Lady would like you. If she ever looked at the stars, I think she’d find you to be lovely. Very lovely, really… but not like her. You’re beautiful, of course, but not like her. She’s more like… well, she’s not like the moon. She doesn’t quite glow like that. And she’s not like the sun, she’s not nearly as optimistic and bright. And she’s not like you either, because she doesn’t twinkle. She kind of… well… hmm…,” you leaned against your knuckles and contemplated your affections. A comparison between Your Lady, between Jane Murdstone, and something from space- the ether- the universe- was hard to find. She was many wonderful things but she was also so complex… so odd… so…. “Ah,” a soft gasp fell past your lips, “Like a supernova.” You nodded, pleased with your connection. “A supernova, indeed. Beautiful and complex and shiny and…well- I believe- explosive.”

・—・—・—・—・—・

You spent months talking to the moon. How many exactly? You weren’t sure. But it was a delightfully long while and you were incredibly happy to sit down at the end of each day and spill your heart out onto the windowsill for the cosmos to pick at. It was your pleasure, always, to indulge in your thoughts - and your dreams - and your hopes, all of which surrounded the strange wonderful existence of Your Lady.

Jane Murdstone… what a mystery. What an enchanting mystery….

A mystery that swiftly changed into your worst nightmare in the blink of one evening.

You’d taken the time that night, after guiding her through her own nightly routine, to soak in a bath in the maid’s restrooms and wash your hair and hum a song and then slip yourself into a long white nightie. It was one of your prettiest pieces of clothing - and made you feel somewhat beautiful even though you were the only one to see it. In the moonlight, it was just as bright as the stars, and with the candle on your bedside finally snuffed, the quiet of the evening poured over you happily. Just in time for another chat. And like clockwork, you opened the window, waited for any sound, opened it further, leaned against the sill, and made heart-eyes at the galaxy.

But as soon as you opened your mouth, as soon as you took a soft breath to speak, your bedroom door flung open and hit the wall with a dull bang.

・—・—・—・—・—・

Jane Murdstone was a proud woman.

A very proud, very intelligent, very strong woman. She didn’t accept mess and she didn’t accept laziness and she didn’t accept impertinence and anyone who thought they could treat her with anything less than respect would be quickly sliced by her silver tongue. She kept it sharp for a reason, dipping into quiet moments of self-contemplation to pick apart and judge the people she was unfortunately surrounded by. From maids to guests and business partners to her brother. She loved him, she did, but sometimes he acted like an idiot. Of course she’d never say that to his face, but nothing stopped her from thinking it.

Just as nothing stopped her from thinking that, when night fell, she was somehow going mad.

A few months previous is when it started. Sparked by the new year, leading through the seasons, into the months, past the holidays. Someone was talking somewhere in the house - nearby enough for her to hear every individual word. It was always at night, it was always beneath the light of the moon and stars, and it was always from the voice of a young woman. A young woman she hadn’t heard before. A maid, to be precise. A maid that sounded vaguely familiar but not familiar enough.

Everyone called her ‘My Lady’ - everyone treated her with civility - everyone was polite and knew their places. But the strange girl that spoke of her- her, Jane Murdstone- beneath the veil of night, was one step over the line. Was one step over the threshold, somewhere in the house, close enough to know that Jane could hear her if she so wished.

And she did wish.

She did wish- but not out of curiosity and not out of wonder and not out of some strange self-centered delight at knowing someone was talking about her, but because she was scorned. She was enraged. How dare someone speak of her behind her back? Who were they? What more were they saying? Why did they think so much about her and why did they talk so freely and why- why why why did they read, recite, ponder over Sappho in the dead of night when everyone else was fast asleep?

Everyone… except for her and Jane.

Everyone… except for the moon and stars.

….

But a supernova? Truly?

Jane felt hot red hatred fill her veins.

Whoever dared to speak her name not to her face was a coward. A mocking, stupid, rude little coward that could never gain enough courage to face her head on and admit that they thought she was worth laughing about. That they thought she was worth making fun of. Just like those in her youth. Just like those her brother needed to protect her from. Girls and boys that saw her to be too complex- girls and boys that never bothered to understand her- girls and boys that thought her love of flowers and poetry and constellations and needlework was somehow too girlish and stupid to be considered ‘fun’. Girls and boys that left her isolated and alone, forced to tend to her own devices and make a world for herself. Because if she could not be in one, then she’d have to create one. So she did. And she lived in it, occasionally, in her own mind.

But the infuriating distraction of the fearful wimp that spoke of her was occupying her thoughts far more than necessary. So much so that she couldn’t even go for a walk without looking around at each maid that passed, wondering if they were the one she was looking for. If they were the one she seethed over.

For some time- months, weeks, however long, she peered and searched as discreetly as she could. No one noticed. Even the maids, as silly and dim-witted as they were, didn’t pay attention to her gaze. That was probably because most of them couldn’t meet it, but still. Still. No one took note of her viscous curiosity.

And thus, she never found the culprit.

Until one morning… one morning when she was due for a small day-trip with her brother when she had to get up a bit earlier than usual and take tea with the sun. Her handmaid knocked and walked into the room at the exact time she was instructed - and thus the day began.

The handmaid in question was an interesting girl. A smart girl, with rounded features and a small weighted body. She was very quiet, replying with a soft ‘Yes, My Lady’ and a gentle hum whenever she was told to do something. And always, without fail, she carried out Jane’s orders to a level of perfection that no other maid was ever able to achieve in the past. Nor in the future. Or ever, Jane truly suspected. The girl, although bigger than the other maids and more introverted- isolated- alone- was still smarter and more efficient than the entire Murdstone staff put together. She seemed kind, with a warmth in her eyes that Jane was never really privy to considering the little thing was never able to look at her. And during the moments when she was angry, when she insisted that the maid make eye-contact as she demanded she do something, the girl was quiet and timid - disappearing into her own mind as Jane spoke. Though clearly, she was paying attention enough to get her job done. And with no complaint. Ever.

So it was that morning, the day of her little trip, when her idea of the silent introverted handmaid was absolutely shattered.

・—・—・—・—・—・

“Where is- what- urgh what did I do with it?” Jane’s voice was gruff as she muttered beneath her breath, eyes and hands moving in tandem as she nearly flipped her bedroom upside down looking for her lost book.

It was at that moment when the handmaid stepped through the en-suite bathroom, bits of beauty products held in her careful hands. Blue eyes paid her no mind as she mosied over to the vanity, quiet and precise in putting the products down without making a noise and without dropping anything. Jane noticed her of course, but she was too preoccupied to follow their routine. Her book was gone- her novel- and she needed to find it before someone else did. Someone like her brother.

“I swear- no I know I put it here yesterday- what on Earth-” she was growling, she knew, but she didn’t care. It wasn’t like her maid would tell anyone that her Lady went a bit frantic that morning. Over a book, no less.

A book that she was very interested in. A book that she intended to finish at some point either during the day or at night after listening to the coward talk some more before going to bed. But she wouldn’t be able to do either of those things if she didn’t find it. Last evening she had slipped her bookmark snugly between two pages before sliding it onto the smooth wood of her bedside table and snuffing out the last flickers of the candle’s flame - right before falling into a deep dreamless sleep. A sleep that saw her waking up, eyes swiftly widening, when she met the sight of her book-less table. Not a soul could have taken it without her knowing and she was certain she had read it the night before (she remembered the last few scenes) and there was no way she misplaced it, so where the bloody hell had it go-

Oh.

“Florence.”

The maid’s head snapped up, eyes wide at the sound of her Lady calling her name.

“Yes, My Lady?” Her voice was soft as she took a few steps forward, coming up behind Jane with her small hands clasped at her waist. The little thing was always so timid, her shoulders tilted in, her head always slightly bowed, her gaze locked onto her shiny little black buckle shoes with unblinking eyes. Jane found it intriguing just as much as she found it annoying.

But it wasn’t the time to focus on that. It was the time to find her damned book.

“Look under the bed. My book is missing,” and then she was turning on her heel and flicking her hand through the air, gesturing that she should find it and find it quickly so they could get the morning over with.

“Yes, My Lady.”

And the girl dropped to her knees, palms pressing against the wood and shoes squeaking loudly as she pushed herself and crawled under the bed. Jane ignored the little grunts that left those plush lips and instead tended to her beauty products, lining them up in order of which one she’d use first. Once she finally took her seat, back straight and neck stiff, eyes glancing into the mirror to look over her face (noting it was pale and the tiniest bit tired), her gaze also slipped over the picture of- oh goodness.

Florence on her stomach, squirming under the bed, most likely biting her lip to keep in her noises of struggle as she pushed herself to grab the book. The edges of the mattress frame dug into her shoulders and back, pressing against the white and black of her maid’s uniform, leaving indents as she scrambled. And kicked… Jane watched as her legs moved a little bit, trying to get leverage, pushing her backside in the air… leaving Jane’s face red and hot as she ripped her gaze away and focused on something else.

“M-My Lady I- ungh- I believe I may have- gotten it-” Florence’s voice was strained as she grasped onto the book with four fingers and tugged as hard as she could, sliding it across the hardwood to get it closer.

Jane’s ears perked up.

“Is it- oh-” the maid shuffled onto her knees, rising up with an arched back until she was kneeling and holding the book in her palms. “Carmilla? My Lady?”

Jane wasn’t focusing.

11 words.

Those 11 words… the most words Florence had ever spoken to her. Ever.

…And that’s why the coward sounded so familiar.

That’s why she was vaguely recognizable.

The little gossip was her own handmaid.

“My Lady?”

Jane blinked, watching as Florence turned to face her with wide doe eyes and a gentle hand- extending the book for her to take. She smacked down the sudden urge to snarl and growl and yell, deciding instantly that she’d catch the little scaredy-cat in the act and put an end to her mockery later that evening.

“Yes. Now get up - you’re becoming filthy.”

・—・—・—・—・—・

Bang!

Your heart split in two.

One part fell to your toes, weighed down by a sudden influx of dread.

The other part stayed near your ears, pumping blood so hard that you grew dizzy.

“You.”

There, in the doorway, outlined by moonlight and starshine, was your Lady.

Draped in a cream dressing gown, dark hair falling over her shoulders and down her back in gentle waves, loose curls twirling around her ears and temples, eyes alight and burning… she looked furious.

Her fists were clenched at her sides. Her pink mouth, still soft and ever so beautiful, was caught in a frown - and once she reached around to grab the doorknob without even looking at it- closing the door with as much quiet as she could muster in her angered state- you knew you were screwed.

And you also knew that she knew. She knew.

“H-how-”

“You’re not as quiet as you think you are little, you dreadful little brat.” And before you knew it, your Lady was taking quick steps forward - ocean eyes blazing with anger, disdain, contempt, betrayal.

You swallowed, hands shooting up to shield yourself by instinct alone. There were hot tears building in your eyes, sparked by sick surprise and horrid fear, and you couldn’t stop them from flowing over the shelves of your eyelids as Lady Jane’s face came further into the moonlight. Her eyebrows were furrowed, her faint smile lines twisted with shadow, deepening as she sneered down at you. There was no place to run. The windowsill bit into your back and the chill of the world outside, seeing as autumn had come around once more, seeped through the thin fabric of your clothing - making you shiver. Making you gasp.

“I didn’t- I’m- I’m so sorry- please-”

“Hush,” Your Lady spat, white teeth flashing for only a second before she was so close that you could feel the heat of her body mingling with your own. Her breath smelled like mint and raspberry tea and sleep. You wished you were kissing her. You wished she weren’t so angry. “You foolish girl,” you flinched at the steel in her tone, “did you think you’d get away with it? Hm? Did you think I wouldn’t know? I know everything that happens in this house, girl. Everything.”

Well clearly not everything. Your eyes glanced at the small drawer in your bedside table, picturing the lone collection of poems that lay within it… and unintentionally giving away your greatest secret. Ice blue eyes caught your look - and followed suit. You felt what was left of your heart start to drain from your body, mixing with your tears as you began shaking your head.

“What else are you hiding? A plot to run away? Dirt that you’ve collected on me? Thinking it will get you anything?” Lady Jane hissed before she was jerking herself away from your body and walking over to your bed.

“N-no! Please!” You nearly yelled, hands reaching for her and grasping onto her sleeve. “P-please- I didn’t- please- please don’t open the drawer-” your voice was heavy with breath as you sobbed, eyes burning and body buzzing.

If she found you out- if she knew for certain- she’d send you away. She wouldn’t just fire you, she’d send you away. Banish you. Report you to whoever she could and then rip away any other chance at a good life you could ever have. She’d sneer and gag and spit and that very night, you’d be forced to pack up what little belongings you had and then toddle off into the dark - bearing only the moon and stars as your company. And they probably wouldn’t help. In that moment, watching in slow motion as a strong pale hand grasped the small golden knob of the drawer and tugged, they didn’t help. They just watched everything unfold as blue eyes bore witness to your disease. To your sickness. To your greatest shame and most horrid realization and painful way of existing.

“Please,” you begged, stumbling until you fell and were forced to knock yourself onto the bed, fearing the commotion you’d cause if you made a loud noise with your body hitting the floor. “Please- please My Lady- it’s- it’s harmless, I didn’t mean to. Please, please, I swear I won’t- not again- I didn’t– I just wanted- please-” and you tugged at her sleeve, nearly ripping the damn thing, until she tore her arm away with a loud click of her tongue.

Whimpers and sobs had your chest heaving while you watched, helplessly, as she reached into the drawer and took out the red-bound book. With the title proudly engraved on the spine… right next to the date of your death. Your hands twisted together in your lap, strong and unforgiving as you clawed at yourself and felt shame paint your skin and body. Your Lady was quiet.

“Don’t let me go, My Lady, please. Please don’t let me go. I won’t- I won’t do it again. I won’t even open my- my window. I won’t talk to the moon- won’t look at- at- at the stars, just- please. Please, I can’t leave from here- can’t- can’t leave you- please- please please please please please please-”

“Do you want to wake the whole house? Be quiet,” she barked, finally turning to you with a strange look in her gaze. From behind your blurring tears, all you could see was anger - but she was feeling far more than that. Curiosity lingered there, curiosity and wonder and concern. Lady Jane’s furious expression twisted into one of grave distrust.

You flinched at her tone, hating the way your body shook with shock.

“Please-” you began to beg again, whispered and breathy, but she cut you off before you could continue your pleas.

“Where did you get this?”

You glanced down at the collection of poems, figuring that her harsh grip on it was purely out of disgust.

“The- the library,” came your heavy sniffle.

“Where in the library, you foolish thing?” Lady Jane huffed, looking down at you coldly.

“One of- of- of the highest shelves, M-My Lady. One of the bigg-biggest ones. At the top.” Your heart was slowing in your chest, eased by the lack of immediate termination.

“…..Did you finish it?”

“Pard-pardon?”

“Did you finish it? Don’t make me repeat myself.” There was a sharpness in her tone, but it was softened. Barely there. Hidden behind something you couldn’t place.

“N-no, My Lady. Not yet. I- I read slowly, My Lady.” And that was true. You did read slowly. You were also so busy that you had to take the time, every single month it wasn’t finished, to select the same book and start off from where you ended the last time.

That seemed to silence Lady Jane. You weren’t sure why. But there was a tremor to her body that wasn’t there before - and you were suddenly struck by the beauty of her nature while you sat helplessly on the bed, trying to hold in your sniffles. The moon lit her from behind, cradling her body in a sea of silver as she looked down at the book in her hand with a troubled expression on her face. Brows still furrowed but cheek teased between her teeth - a sign of her contemplation. Her worry. Her stress? Like she was fighting with herself internally, debating on sharing something she should not share. You sniffed, suddenly stuck in an odd limbo; a grey area between space and time as Your Lady’s attention was swiftly directed elsewhere.

But not for long.

Blue eyes snapped to you, instantly halting the breath in your lungs as she washed her gaze first over your red teary face - then your chest - then the rest of your shaking body. Not sizing you up… but still deciding on something. Questioning something.

You watched pink lips part.

“…Who do you gossip to?”

What? Gossip? Who do you… who do you… oh. She must think– she must- oh. Oh no. Oh no no no, Lady Jane, no. It was time for your expression to relax into realization before you hesitantly pulled a hand up to wipe your eyes and cheeks.

“I don’t- I share my thoughts with no one but- but the moon, My Lady. And the stars.”

You swallowed as you watched her frown. She was misunderstanding you, you figured. She was getting it all wrong. Lady Jane’s eyes snapped down to the book.

“Then why?”

You blinked.

“Why?”

Silly girl. Never make her repeat herself.

In the smallest of seconds, Your Lady’s hand tossed the book onto your pillow as roughly as she could- ignoring the way it bounced and bruised your leg- before that same hand was wrapping around your throat. Five cold fingers pressed into the left side of your neck while a strong thumb held the other side, digging into your flesh, prodding the heavy quick thump of your pulse. You sucked in a gasp before wincing as she tightened her hold and tugged you closer - until you were nearly nose to nose. The shadow of your bodies fell over her face, making her eyes appear nearly black as she sneered at you, baring her teeth in anger.

“Why?”

You briefly flinched on a swallow and watched the way her eyes snapped to your neck, rolling over the sudden movement of your throat. Instantly, her grip softened. The hand stayed, but it no longer hurt. You sniffed, drawing her attention again.

“I- I-”

“Tell me.”

You wanted to. Gods, you wanted to. But she heard it all, hadn’t she? She heard every word you spoke to the moon and stars. She heard everything you said about her. She heard your humming and she heard your recitations and she heard your mindless rambles. She heard what was supposed to be private - but that was your own fault. Of course nothing could ever be truly private. It was her job to know things, after all. It was her job to make sure that all of the maids were to be trusted. And you could be. You could be trusted. She could trust you with her life; she didn’t know that in the moment, but she could. You’d do anything for her. You’d capture your friend- the moon- for her. You’d lasso it from the sky and bring it down so she could hold it in her strong cool palms. You’d memorize every poem there was, every poem in existence, if it would please her to have you read them out by heart. You’d collect every piece of lavender - every sunflower - every lily, every rose, every gardenia, every snowbell, every raspberry from every garden and every bush in the entire world- if she wanted them all to herself. To have in her own tea. To have in her own garden. You would. You’d do it. You’d do it all.

Even though some believed she didn’t deserve it. Even though some thought she was crazy - rude - mean and heartless. Even though some saw her as unforgivable and so cold that she was worlds above the chill of ice. She wasn’t. She wasn’t. She was… but she wasn’t.

You could see the human through the cold. You could see the heart through the heat. She was in desperate need of a soft hand- of a soft person- and though you weren’t sure if she’d understand, though you weren’t sure if she’d throw you out to the wolves or not, you knew you had to try. You knew you had to take another risk, like you did with the sweetest collection of poems… you knew you had to select your heart from the shelf and hold it out for her. So she could have it. Read it. Study it day after day, week after week, month after month - with no need to renew it because you wanted her to own it.

And own it, she did.

Own it, she would.

“I- because- I… love you….” Your words were a breath into the cosmos. A promise to the moon and stars. A declaration of no other.

And it had Lady Jane Murdstone blinking, face still twisted in confusion. Mistrust. She was quiet. She did not understand.

“I love you, My Lady,” your chest stuttered on a breath, making her gaze flicker down before coming back up, “I- well I have loved you… for months. Longer, even. I just- I couldn’t- I just couldn’t….” you glanced to the space where the book was at your thigh, somewhere there, past the vision of her arm near your face.

But through the lines, she understood. And before you could say more, maybe beg her one more time not to let you go, she took her hand away and reached over to grab the collection. You weren’t entirely sure what she was looking for but once she flipped to the very last page, the one where it flipped over to the left side and allowed the raw of the book’s cover to face the air on the right, you realized the truth of everything.

Of course. Of course of course of course… There was a reason why Sappho’s Best collection was in the Murdstone library. Atop a high shelf. Supposed to be hidden - but grabbed by your curious eyes and wanting hands. It was there not to stare at, it was there not to be forgotten about, it was there as a memory. A testament to what once was. The very last piece of evidence from something that you were never privy to. A statement from long gone. A crumb that fell off of the biscuit that was Jane Murdstone’s heart. She held the book with reference. Softly. Gently. You watched her expression fall into something soft. Something… kind. Something that hid sorrow- so much of it- behind those usually cold blue eyes. She was sad. The collection brought her great sadness…

“I’m sorry, My Lady,” you whispered, electrocuted with the sudden urge to apologize. To say you're sorry for causing her grief- for causing her stress- for making her think she was being betrayed when she was being the exact opposite. Appreciated. Loved.

The sound of your voice brought her out of her reverie, making her look up. You watched, starstruck, as her lips quivered for a millisecond before hardening into a straight line, and then with a blink, the warmth in her gaze was gone. Like a reset. Like when she hummed her lullabies and corrected herself. You immediately scorned whoever made her feel as though she couldn’t be vulnerable. You scorned them and hoped, secretly, that they were rolling over in their graves - never able to be comfortable. Never able to rest easy.

“If you want to talk about someone,” your Lady began, voice deep and serious, “do not be a coward and talk in the shadows. You have a voice. Use it.”

And with that, she was gone. Dropping the book in your lap, making you scramble to hold it to your chest, casting you one last glance, and walking out of the room as quickly as she had come. The door closed behind her with the softest ‘click’ - and then you listened to her footsteps recede.

The quiet of the world past your window came back in a flood, carrying with it the chirp and hoot and rustle of various animals while the moon watched from her place in the sky. She shone at you as she usually did, but her positioning had changed. She was a bit further away. Looking down - casting a spotlight on your lap - making you peer at the book in your hands before you pulled it away from your chest and looked at the pages Lady Murdstone had turned to.

And there, beneath the light of the moon, was a message you had yet to see. Written in scrawling dark script, small and hasty along the inside part of the back cover.

‘To Janey,

For I know that even once I’m gone, you will find another heart. Do let the walls down when that happens, yes? She will burn through your iron just as I did. And you know that never once have I regretted it.

Until next time. They will remember us, I tell you. Yours forever, Elaine’

・—・—・—・—・—・

Hope you enjoyed! I wanted to test out a new character. I also didn't proofread. Oops. - Ripley x

・—・—・—・—・—・

#fanfictionwriter #rippersz #fanfiction #fanfic #wlw fanfic #gwendoline christie #x reader fic #x reader #jane murdstone #jane murdstone x reader #jane murdstone gwendoline christie #x y/n #jane murdstone x y/n #jane murdstone x you

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nanawritesit · 4 months

Text

Beelzebub Imagine: Making Breakfast Together

TW: kissing, cuddling, preparing and eating food, brief mentions of dieting (asmo)

—————

You squinted as your alarm went off, reaching over to turn it off. Why is it going off so early? you asked yourself momentarily, then sighed as you remembered. It was your day to make breakfast with Beel.

Seeing as there were seven days a week, Lucifer decided to leave meal preparations to the brothers, being that there were seven of them. Rather than throw off the system just to give you a day, he decided to just have you assist Beel on his day. He was always eating everything before he could serve it, and you were pretty good at controlling him.

You threw on your robe and slippers and made your way down the hall to Beel and Belphie’s room. You never had to worry about waking Belphie up, since he could sleep through an earthquake.

“Beel, honey…” you spoke softly, shaking him awake. “It’s time to make breakfast.”

He opened an eye at the mention of breakfast, then saw you sitting next to him with a cute smile. “Good morning Y/N.” he grinned back at you, stretching slightly.

“Good morning, Beelzebaby.” you replied, ruffling his tangerine locks. “Did you sleep well?”

“Mmhm.” he nodded, yawning slightly. Suddenly, he scooped you up in his arms and rolled you over to the other side of the bed, clinging onto you like a koala.

“Beel!” you yelped as he did so, giggling at his sudden display of affection. “What are you doing?”

“Getting my cuddles in.” he answered matter of factly, nuzzling his face into your neck. “I can’t start my day without them.”

“Awh, that’s sweet babe, but we really need to get started on breakfast…” you protested, trying to move out of his grasp. He was much too strong though, pinning you down to the bed with just his body weight.

“Mm, five more minutes…” he groaned.

“Now you’re starting to sound like your twin over there.” you teased him, gesturing to the demon on the other side of the room who was currently drooling into his cow-print pillow. “If I give you a kiss, will you get up?”

“Maybe…” he grumbled with a pouty tone. You simply chuckled at his false apathy and sat up in his arms to place a sweet kiss on his lips. He smiled as you pulled away, pulling you back down for another one, then another one after that, then one more…

��Beel, you’re being so gluttonous!” you giggled, shoving him away from you.

“I can’t help it, you taste so good…” he justified himself, finally rolling off the bed. “But, I’m a demon of my word. Let’s go, babe.”

You jumped up on his back on the way down the stairs, making him stumble a bit in surprise but still catch you without any problem. You were so small compared to him that the entire force of your body weight barely made him tumble over.

The violet-eyed demon set you down gently as you reached the kitchen, then immediately busied himself with preparing the drinks. It was your arrangement that he would handle making the drinks while you started on the food. It was partly because he wanted things to be fair, and partly an attempt to make sure he didn’t eat all of the food before breakfast was served. Besides, you could usually finish cooking the food before all of the drinks were finished.

The brothers were super picky with their drinks, and they all wanted something different. Lucifer insisted on having his shadow coffee mixed with oolong and black tea, Mammon wanted his chaos devil cider with ginger ale, Levi requested orange acid and iced tea, Satan wouldn’t drink anything but caged clot matcha, Asmo demanded a bloody berry smoothie, Beel liked blood strawberry juice with his pancakes, and Belphie needed a d-energy drink to start his day or he wouldn’t have a hope of making it through classes. You were the easiest person to cater to, only requesting a simple hell coffee with cream and sugar.

While Beel was hard at work preparing the long list of detailed drinks, you got started on the food items. You decided to make hell pancakes, bufo eggs, and black-tapir steak since it was such a hit with everyone. They weren’t nearly as choosy with their food as they were with their drinks. Well, except for Asmo, who only drank his smoothie because he “needed to stay slender.”

As Beel was waiting for all the various teas and coffees to brew, he decided to wander over to the stove and wrap his arms around your waist, resting his head on your shoulder. It was kind of awkward for him to bend down so far, but he wanted to be close to you.

“Whatcha’ doin, Beelzebaby?” you inquired with a tiny grin.

“Hugging you.” he replied, nuzzling his face into your neck. He glanced down at the pan you were stirring up the steak in with some death garlic and grieving onion. He sniffed the air and squinted his eyes shut in pleasure. “Mm, that smells really good…”

“You know the rules, Beel. No eating until we get to the table.” you informed him sternly.

“But Y/N…” he whined, gripping onto you tighter. “I don’t think I can make it that long…” He began peppering kisses all across your cheek, ear, and neck, making you feel flustered.

“Okay, you can have one bite. No more, understand?” you explained to him.

He nodded frantically into your shoulder. “Yes, only one, I promise.”

You picked up a piece of steak with the tongs and held it up to his lips. He gobbled it straight up, swallowing it in seconds. You could feel the happiness radiating off of him as he enjoyed the savory flavor. He didn’t seem to care at all that it was searing hot, or that it was half cooked.

“Thanks baby, that was delicious.” he beamed, kissing your cheek one last time before walking back over to the kitchen island where he was preparing his drinks. Now having received a pick-me-up, he had all the energy he needed to finish making them.

After what felt like forever, you had finished making all the food, and scooped it into serving dishes to be brought out into the dining room.

“Let me take those babe, they look heavy.” your boyfriend insisted, taking them from you. You smiled gratefully, then carefully picked up the tray of drinks and followed him out to the dining room.

As you arrived at the table, the rest of the brothers all started filing in. Lucifer was first, as usual, and graciously took his place at the head of the table.

“Here’s your shadow coffee with oolong and black tea.” you chirped as you held the tray out to the eldest brother.

“Thank you very much, Y/N.” he chimed with a small appreciative smile. “I really appreciate you helping Beel prepare breakfast. I’m sure it’s not an easy task.”

“Nonsense, I enjoy being around him.” you reassured him.

Beel gave you a touched grin and a small blush, ruffling your hair as you walked past him. He wouldn’t trade you for anything else in the whole world, and you felt the exact same way about him.

#beelzebub x reader #beelzebub imagines #beelzebub scenarios #beelzebub fluff #beelzebub fanfic #beelzebub obey me #beelzebub headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me shall we date #obey me writing #obey me requests #obey me x reader #obey me scenarios #obey me fluff #obey me fanfic

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heartfullofleeches · 1 year

Text

Business Casual

Yan Hero + Villain-for-Hire Scientist Reader

Something something, villain reader in lingerie. G.N as always, but they are implied to be slightly muscular

Another explosion on floor three.

The ground quakes beneath you on level four; dragging the wide-eyed corpse flung over your desk to to its knees. Head cracking against the sharp edge as they spawn across the floor, their helmet rolls into your ankle. You step over it and gather the scattered stacks of paper into a large folder, using the guard's layard to keep them secure.

While looting their body, you take back the pen lodged in their jugular. Your bosses were idiots if they thought you'd leave behind your hard work and the supplies you bought with your own two cents. You have to plant your foot on their chest to get it out. Turns out they weren't fully dead yet, as when you yank it free blood gurgles from their mouth and throat - eyes bloodshot as their enfeebled limbs dart for the punctured hole. Your shirt was already drenched in enough of their blood you didn't need to stick around. You stand up and over their body, clocking out as you vacate the premises - chaos unveiled behind the glass wall of your office.

Bodies everywhere, most wounds self inflicted. The heroes had yet to make it to your floor and those in too deep knew there wasn't anything better waiting outside. Those hired under false pretenses scrambled for the exits like a wild stampede. The mass panic made up the minority of the casualties as they trampled each other and fought. The sprinklers going off to quench various fires raised the body count. By the time you left everyone was either dead or on their way to the lower floors. You stroll through the field of wasted flesh, checking your bank account with that spring in your step that amount zeros would give anyone. Getting that degree was good for something after all.

Reaching the flight of stairs leading to your salvation, a lone figure awaits you at the bottom; expression steeled with a glare that the press would've just eaten up. Banking on the notion they may not have seen your clothes, you use the rain of the sprinklers to play as your tears.

"Oh thank goodness you came- the evacuation alarm went off and then there were guns and-" Expressing your fright with incoherent words and sobs, you descend the stairs one step at a time. "I'm sorry, I really don't know what's going on since I just started working here. Thank you for rescuing me."

The hero is a little too welcoming for your liking as you fall against their chest.

"You don't have to keep up the act. It's just me here."

That voice. So familiar.

"Nobody else is alive. I'm taking you home this time. Where you belong. We both know you're better than this."

It reminds you of that little hero everyone's been talking about recently. The same one who's flyers kept appearing in your mail. The same one who investigated those disappearances at your old apartment. The same one you sold the information to. You've been paid off for information by so many their faces all blur together at this point.

"In that case."

Teetering back on your heel and planting your foot in the center of their chest, you pour all your strength into a kick them that sends them down the flight of stairs to the next. The hero willingly takes the plunge, but goes down harder than they expect; back breaking their fall and taking on the brunt of the damages. You grab the sleeve of your lab coat with your teeth as you drop down each step, ripping it from your soaked figure and throwing it over their head. If you had to fight your way out of this all the water weight retained in the coat would just limit your mobility. The hero pulls it off and springs onto their knees. They didn't want to do things this way, but their patience had run them. Wiping blood from their lips, they take a double look at you as you hover over them - certain they hit their head harder than they thought.

Eyes lose in confusion at their slack jaw expression, your lips retain a mocking grimace. "What's the matter, hero? Afraid of fighting a civilian?"

The hero opens their mouth, but nothing comes out. They point instead. You look down at your shirt. Oh...

The guard's blood and falling waters had eaten away at the cheap material of your shirt. Through the translucent fabric peaks the garments you wore beneath. A lacey black piece perfectly shaped to your bust with straps cross over your upper chest and cut off at your midriff. The strings of the matching bottom sit high upon your thigh, frills barely hidden at your waistband. You may have a few screws lose, but you wouldn't leave the house without underwear and this was all that you had - was the excuse you stopped using after showing up to work in lingerie two days in a row. The hero swallow the first breath in ages as you pop the first button.

"Like what you see, hero? Well I can show you more~" You take off your shirt and throw it at their feet. They scramble to pick it up as your leg falls onto their shoulder. You ease into a squat, pushing them down with you as you slide. Their hands slide up your legs. You tease them with a slip of your bottoms, fist clenching as they yank your zipper. The salvation of reaching their in goal drags them in too deep as everything goes dark.

The hero wakes up with a splitting headache traveling all the way down to their nose. The bloodstained walls of the laboratory had been switched with floral wallpaper. Your living room wallpaper. They were bound to a chair in the middle of the room giving them a view of different areas in your home. It takes them less than a minute to notice you laying out on the couch. You had changed into dry clothing, but they could still see the single string hugging your hips. They lick at their cracked lips.

"Anything...."

You toss their phone aside as you sit up. "You're awake. Afraid I knocked that nasty little brain of yours out when you fell like that. Looking through your phone I see you have a talent for photography. A hero and a stalker. What a combo."

They bite down until their lips start to blister. "Please.. anything, anything you want is yours if you take off your shirt. Please, I cant- I can't live off pictures alone anymore. I need you... I have since I first say you."

"Anything, hm? That's a mighty brod claim. We'll see if I can hold you to it, little hero."

#scientist reader #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere insert #yandere headcanons #yandere x you #yandere blurb #yandere drabble #yandere writing #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #yandere hero

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book-of-baba-fett · 1 year

Text

Revolve - Captain Rex x Fem!Reader

Summary: After months of thinking he was dead, Captain Rex comes back into your life. There will be time to figure out where you lie in a galaxy neither of you know anymore, but for now you can't keep your hands off him and Rex needs to show you how much he missed you.

Warnings: Smut (18+ only for this folks), oral sex (f receiving), boob & general body worship, PiV, praise kink, mentions of/light cockwarming, creampie

A/N: Inspired by Rex's return in The Bad Batch season 2, but no spoilers for the episode's plot. It's been a long time of writer's block, so i'm kicking up my brain again with some good old smut featuring our favorite blond captain. Divider by @galacticgraffiti

Word Count: 3.4k

Ao3 Link

Masterlist

You were always careful with how you left your apartment: Coruscant wasn’t a safe space to live, even before the Empire. Now there was a false sense of security, a cover brought by the end of the war that should make you feel comfort but you couldn’t lose the fear that something else would come to shake your world at its core. Thing were supposed to be safe, but you didn’t recognize the galaxy anymore. You couldn’t stop looking over your shoulder as you walked home, you never lingered in secluded spots for too long, maybe you were being paranoid, but ever since you the war ended you knew you weren’t safe. Maybe it was because you lost the one person who you knew would always look after you. So, you always triple check that your doors are locked before bed, that your security system was on, and would repeat the same motions when you left for work in the morning. So, tonight when you arrive home to an unlocked door, it’s more than a surprise.

You recognize the simple signs of disturbances; your chair slightly nudged to the side, a cloak resting over the back of your couch. Whoever came in was giving you warning signs so you wouldn’t be alarmed once you saw the shadow of their figure staring out your window.

And the last thing Rex ever wanted to do was frighten you.

At the sound of your keys landing on the counter, Rex turns to face you. He looks good for a 'dead' man. Your heart pounds heavily in your chest, your feet frozen in place as you take in the man in front of you. You never believed the reports, couldn’t fathom that he had died in the crash that took his brothers. Still, it was like a ghost stood in front of you, and you were afraid if you acknowledged it, you would wake up from this wanted dream.

But then he says your name, the rumble of his voice too present to be a figment of your imagination. His eyes are filled with longing and disbelief even though he had sought you out; you would have teased him for it if you weren't in shock yourself.

You practically leap at him, and Rex is waiting with open arms; those strong, caring arms grasping you tightly as he tugs you into his chest. The vest he wears is so light you can feel his heart thudding in his chest, as runaway with glee as yours is too. He presses his face into your neck, smelling the scent of your shampoo, taking in your essence. HIs hands grasp your clothing, he needed this moment just as much as you did; this tangible proof that you still existed after everything else fell apart.

"Cyar'ika," He murmurs, his breath hot against the skin of your neck. Hu nuzzles into you and you feel the stubble growing on his cheek; a new thing for him. "I'm sorry it took me so long."

"I thought I lost you," you manage to squeak out, eyes burning from tears threatening to spill over.

"I wanted to be here sooner," you can feel the weight of honesty on his words. Rex pulls back, his eyes once again finding you. Now that you're closer, you can take him in much better. A pale scar on his temple is the only sign of injury on him. He rests his hand on your cheek, his thumb circling over where tears had already managed to stain. "I would have been. But it wasn't safe."

"It still isn't," you interject, your worry for him renewed in a different way. "So much has happened so quickly. And I don't believe what they're saying about the Jedi being traitors, it just doesn't make sense."

"It's all lies," Rex insists in a harsher tone than he's ever used with you. He dials it back once he sees the apprehension on your face, pecking a kiss on your forehead before exhaling. His face is lined with exhaustion, his eyes tired, and you can feel the anger laced with guilt radiating off him. "Palpatine was using them, using all of us, all along."

"What happened?" you almost don't want to know, but you have to understand where he's been, everything he's dealt with. You can't take his burdens, but you can help him with the weight.

"It's not a quick tale," he says with a mirthless chuckle, that deep sound that you love so much hidden behind the dead seriousness.

"Well, I'm here to listen," You nuzzle against his hand, planting a kiss in his palm.

"Later. Right now, though..." Rex's tone gets lower, his hand sliding to your neck as the arm around your back squeezes you tighter. “It’s been too long since I kissed you.”

You don’t have time to reply before his lips are on yours, a moan catching your throat as his grasp tightens. Rex is slow, tentative at first, as if he’s savoring the moment to make up for lost time. But when you pull back for air, it’s like a switch flips in him; his eyes are dark with desire, hooded as they look over you.

He guides you back to the bedroom he’s spent so many nights in. He knows your place like it was his own, and one day you had wanted to make it so. Now you know that day could never be.

Rex kisses you again, hungrier and insisting as his hands find the waistline of your pants. You can’t hold in the giggle that escapes your lips at his frantic attempts to take your clothes off. You help him as best you can, lifting your shirt up. Rex makes an indignant huff when he has to release your lips, but its quickly silenced as you stand in front of him in your bra and panties. His hands reach around your back, his deft fingers skillfully removing your bra. His eyes are locked on your face as he slides it off you, watching the way your lips tremble in anticipation.

Rex’s touch was reverential; his fingertips grazing over your skin, raising goosebumps as his touch passed. Your nipples pebbled, from the cold air or from the arousal of the heat of his hands against you, you weren’t sure.

“I missed you,” you whimper as he nudges you to sit on the bed. That doesn’t encompass all you’ve felt in the last few months. Nothing could compare to the ache you felt without him. But you couldn’t burden him with that, not when he was dealing with so much.

“I’ve missed you too, Cyare,” Rex leans down and clasps both his hands around your face. “But I’m here now. It’s just you and me.”

He’s quick to remove his clothes, eager to feel his skin against yours. You slide back as he does, taking him in as you prop up on your elbows. His chest is littered with more scars than you remember, something that frightens you. But you can’t let your fears get in the way of this moment.

You spread your legs wider, smirking at the way Rex’s eyes linger on your panties, the only time of clothing either of you are wearing. He prowls to the bed, slowly climbing on it and over you until he’s kissing you again.

“Have I ever told you how gorgeous you are?” Rex murmurs against your lips.

“You could mention it more often,” you can’t resist the urge to tease, ignoring the fluttering in your stomach. Rex blows a huff of air against your lips as he chuckles in response.

“Alright then,” he starts, his voice dangerously low as he presses up.

“You’re gorgeous,” he repeats, pecking a kiss on the corner of your mouth. His lips trail down to your jaw, his breath hot on you as if meets the sensitive skin of your neck. You yelp in surprise as his teeth meet your skin, nipping lightly before his tongue laves over the sensitive spot. “And so sexy.”

He makes his way down to your heaving chest. His palm cups on of your breasts, squeezing as he plants open mouthed kisses on your sternum. His eyes meet yours once again, a slight smugness in them as his tongue peaks out and flicks over your nipple.

“Love your perfect tits,” Rex groans before sucking your nipple between his lips. You whimper from the pleasure, your cheeks hot and your core aching. He moves to your other breast, sucking on that nipple too as you squirm beneath him. You try to press your legs together to release some of the need settling in at the apex of your thighs, but Rex’s body between you prevents that. But he knows what you want, and starts to grind his hardness against you. You gasp as you feel how large he is, his hot and heavy cock rutting against you. Droplets of precum smear against your lower abdomen as Rex lazily thrusts, still focused on your chest.

When he decides he’s done, he scoots lower down your body, his tongue tracing his path down before he gets to your panties. Rex looks up at you, his brown eyes filled with sinful wanting as he licks a stripe over your covered slit, tasting the tang of your arousal that had already dampened your panties. You moan his name, one of your legs crossing over his back to nudge him closer to you.

“Patience,” Rex tsks, that small, confident grin that drives you insane still on his face. His fingers toy with the band on your panties. “Only good girls get rewarded.”

You hmph, prepared to sass him back when he raises an eyebrow at you. You put on a sweet smile, and nudge your legs slightly further apart, waving your hips as you wiggle.

“I’ve just missed how good you make me feel,” you sound breathless as you say it. “I can’t handle being teased right now.”

You try to shift again but Rex holds you steady. He presses a kiss to your thigh; the roughness of his stubble sends a shiver down your spine. You must be dripping in your panties, your need for him to give you everything taking over. “Rex; please.”

Rex was a resolved man, but he always had a weakness where you were concerned. “Anything for you, cyar’ika.”

Rex loops his fingers around your waistband and slowly slides your panties down, groaning when he sees your glistening lips. Once they’re off, he crawls back to you on the bed. His strong arms wrap around your thighs, his large hands holding your thighs steady and open for him as he dives in.

You moan as soon as his tongue glides through your lips, you try to grind your hips against his face but his grip is strong, holding you in place as he tastes you. He licks a long, flat strip up your slit, then circles over your clit with his tongue, You can’t hold in the way your breath hitches as he flicks over your clit, teasing you as he begins to finally relieve some of that pressure aching in you.

Rex groans against your skin as he tastes you, thinking of how much he missed this, missed you. It’s cliche to say, but he eats you like a man starved; he had been so long deprived of you that now he needed to relish it, savor it. Something ignited in him, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs as he buried his face there. You knew if he wasn’t holding you steady, your legs would be squeezing against his head. Your hands jump to the back of his head, your nails probably scratching the back of his head, but he gives no sign he minds. In fact he seems to like it; he groans into your core, the vibrations against your sensitive skin making you keen.

His eyes dart up as you gasp, a challenge and a cockiness in his eyes that sets you on fire. He unwinds one of his arms from your legs, the limb weighted with the signs of that sweet soreness you’ll feel in the morning. You’re about to offer Rex some teasing remark for it, when you feel a thick finger probing at your entrance and your words turn into a moan.

“Relax, cyar’ika, I’ve got you,” Rex croons as his finger slowly drags in and out of you. He puls it in and out of you, slowly increasing his pace, before adding a second finger in. Your walls cling to his fingers, tightly clenching around them as Rex fingers you. He crooks his finger, finding your g-spot with such a skill and ease; he knows your body so well, knows exactly what to do to make you feel good.

With only one hand to keep you in place, your squirming has increased; your body acting of its own mind to chase his fingers as they thrust into your pussy. The way his fingers fill you is near perfect, second only to his cock. You can feel the pressure cresting in your body with every stroke of his fingers inside you, your breath leaving you in sighs as your chest begins to heave. He slips another finger in, stuffing you and warming you up for what’s to come and you swear you’re close to seeing the Maker.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” Rex grunts out, his voice husky with arousal. You can feel his breath on your pussy as he encourages you. “I can feel how close you are. Go on, let go for me.”

He leans in and wraps his lips around your clit, sucking as his fingers stick with their consistent motion against your g-spot. You cry out his name, your body tensing as you climb that peak, finally toppling over with a swipe of his dexterous fingers. Your vision dots white and your voice cracks as your head rolls back. Rex keeps sucking your clit and fingering you as your orgasm washes over you, only slowing when your body relaxes again.

“How was that?” Rex asks, his smirk telling you he already knew the answer. He pushes himself back up, climbing over you so he could kiss you; you could taste yourself on his lips.

“Hmm could have been bett-oh,” Your teasing reply is cut off by Rex kissing you again, his hand slips to your neck, his fingers clasping around it. He only gives a light pressure, not enough hurt you in any way but enough to remind you who made you feel that good. You can feel his cock, hot and hard against your thigh as his kiss grew more insistent, tongue meeting tongue as your arousal built up again. Rex can’t wait any longer either.

“I need you.” He grunts out in between kisses, needy and purposeful.

“Then take me,” you reply, out of breath, ready to offer him everything you have.

Rex enters you slowly, his cock stretching you, filling you in the way you craved. Your hands clenched around his biceps, nails digging into his skin as you hissed from the slight pain that came from getting used to him. But maker, it was so worth it. Rex’s muscles were clenched as he held himself back from roughly snapping his hips to yours; he wanted to take you, claim you entirely as his and Maker knows you would willingly let him. But that restraint made those first moments all the more savorful, something to cling to before you lost yourselves.

Rex groans roughly as his cock hilts completely inside you, pressing his forehead against yours. He stills for a moment, breathing heavily as he feels you around him, warm and tight. He loves the feeling of you beneath him trembling with want, loves the way you bite your lips as you try and hold your whimpers inside. His eyes are dark as he looks down at you, taking you in and reading you to judge when you’re ready for him to move.

He fills you so perfectly, you would let him lay here for hours, semi-crushing you with his cock inside you as your cunt squeezes around him. You would have him use you in any way he wanted and you would let him. But now there’s one thing alone you want, you meet his eyes and nod, digging your nails tighter into his skin as you beg, “Move, please Rex .”

You cry in pleasure as he thrusts back and slams his hips back into you so hard you feel him in your gut. You’re still moaning when he thrusts again, just as hard, just as deep.

This wasn’t your soft and tender Rex; you knew he was there, under the hardened layers of a man who had lost everything. This Rex is still kind, still devoted, but he has a need burning through him. A desire to take you and consume you. His grip around you is harsh, his arms squeezing you as they wrap around your torso so hard you half wonder if he could break you. His thrusts near punishing, his cock plunging deep into you. You can’t hold in your moans and cries; and Rex doesn’t want you to. He wants to hear you, needs to know how you fall apart under him, how you call his name, how you beg for him.

“That’s my good girl,” he grits out, his voice so low it sparked a fuse inside you. His eyes flashed as you clenched around him. “Taking me so well. You look so beautiful like this.”

“You feel so good,” you tell him. But there’s a smugness on his face.

“I know, princess,” you swear you could cum right then. He knows what he’s doing to you. He can feel the way your body trembles beneath him, how your legs quake around his waist, how your cunt is leaking with arousal all by what’s he’s doing to you.

You clutch onto him likes he’s your life line, and in a way he is. Everything revolves around him, in a way that fills you with bliss when he’s with you and a way that filled you with dread these last few months without him. You’re still torn under the surface, wanting to cry in joy and sorry over ever emotion running through you at seeing him again but you’ll have time for that later, time to figure out what comes next. Right now, the only thing that matters is he’s here with you.

Every stroke of his cock inside you knocks the air out of you; you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve moaned his name or how many times your name has left his lips like a prayer. His praises for you falling between every thrust, igniting that fire in your gut as he pounds into you.

Rex holds you tighter and you feel like he could snap you in half; his thrusts going faster and faster, his grunts in your ear getting louder. A layer of sweat beads on both your bodies, the smack of your hips meeting is lewd but heavenly. Your breath is pitching, every time Rex moves his cock hits you in a place so deep as he pushes you closer and closer to ecstasy. He can feel you pulsing around him, hear the way your voice is cracking and he knows you’re about to come.

“Come on mesh’la, that’s it,” Rex orders hoarsely, his voice rugged and tense as he holds himself together for a little bit longer, “come for me.”

You start to see stars as your orgasm hits you. Rex fucks your harder as you come, his breath loud as he chases his own orgasm with you. Your pussy clenches around Rex’s thick cock, milking him dry as he grunts out and spills inside you. You should be embarrassed by how loud you are, knowing there’s no way your neighbors can’t hear you yell Rex’s name but you can’t bother to care. Rex’s thrusts speed up as he empties himself into you, until he presses all the way in once more when he’s done, filling you into most sinfully delightful way as he collapses on top of you.

You both lay there for an immeasurable amount of time; his cock still filling you up, plugging your mixed releases that slowly leak out of you as he softens. His lips are in your neck, softly kissing you as he murmurs his adorations into your skin. Your fingers trace circles on his back, over the scars that litter his body. There are conversations to be had, plans to be made: but nothing else matters in this moment more than having your Rex back, safe with you.

Taglist & Rex Hoes (fill out this form on my masterlist if you want to be added!)

@stankferrik @nyravioppri @pinkiemme @fivesarctrooper1 @twistedstitcher27 @frietiemeloen @galacticgraffiti @a-c-lee @ashotofspotchka @itsagrimm @rexandechosandwich @stankferrik @nyravioppri @mavendeb @rain-on-kamino @alwayssnivellus @amyroswell @Sailingthehighseas @lucyysthings @manqoz @lady--kenobi @punkpirate82 @rowansparrow @starstofillmydream @sunshinesdaydream @lucyysthings @hotpinkplastoid @fordo-kixed-rex @ilikemymendarkandfictional @babygirlrex0504 @djarrex @sleepingsun501 @rexxdjarin @fett-djarin

#captain rex x reader #captain rex x you #captain rex #the clone wars #the clone wars fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #captain rex fanfiction #the clone wars smut #tcw smut #tcw rex #tcw fanfiction #tcw fanfic

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agentstarkid · 1 month

Text

FOREVER IS THE SWEETEST CON ✦ DR3

✦ summary: While isolating in a hotel room, some things can't be ignored any more and, as stars fade in the dawn's light, some bonds were meant to be broken, like whispers carried away by the desert wind.

✦ pairing: daniel ricciardo x famous!latina!reader

✦ words: 4.3K

✦ warnings: female!reader, latina!reader, established relationship, lots of angst, covid-19 & quarantine mentions, there's a nine-year age gap, forced proximity (if you squint), language.

✦ pit wall live: holis babes! before you all come for me with your pitchforks, I'd like to remind you that english is not my first language so I wanna give a big biiig thank you to Tally (@onceuponaoneshotfanfic) for englishing this baby and for encouraging me to write it when I told her I was thinking about it ❤️ I actually wrote this back in october and I can finally post it!! It is tied to Saudade, if you want more context to their story. This is not the end, okay?... or is it? hehe byeee

─── The Joker & The Queen (Masterlist)

Wednesday, just a day before his scheduled morning session, the symptoms began to show. They knew from the moment he started to complain about his body aching all over. The uncertainty and concern were present from the first moment, intensifying when, as a precaution, he underwent several medical tests to verify whether he suffered from Covid or not. However, the first test came back negative. It was a breath of relief, at least for a moment. But on Friday afternoon the alarms went off, and the Aussie driver's negative became a terrifying positive that further disrupted the false peace that they had tried so hard to preserve in recent weeks.

Practice for the opening race was scheduled for the following Friday, and having to isolate in accordance with local regulations meant that Daniel would go into the new season without having driven the car since last month.

Locked away from the outside world, tension brewed within the confines of a hotel room. This forced proximity only served to accentuate the strains that had long been present. The fraying edges of your relationship were now illuminated under the harsh fluorescent lights, magnified by the claustrophobic confinement of quarantine.

You entered the bedroom and found him lying on the bed, wearing a navy shirt and a pair of sweats, his feet locked at the ankles and his attention focused on his phone.

“How are you feeling?”

“’m fine,” he sighed.

“Do you need anything?” you tried again.

“Nope.”

You went to lay down on your side of the bed. “Heard Lando had problems with the car today.”

“Seems the car is even shittier than last year.” He let out a dry laugh. “But I wouldn’t know because I’m stuck in this fucking hotel room for the rest of the week.”

“Look on the bright side, you’ve got a couple of extra days to relax before the craziness of the season begins.” You gave a half shrug.

“Wouldn’t exactly call this relaxing. But you wouldn’t understand.”

“What does that mean? I know how you’re feeling-”

He shook his head and huffed, dropping his phone on the bed. “No, that’s the thing. You don’t know, sweetheart. How would you know? You didn’t get a fucking positive result and was forced to stay inside these walls, watching how everyone else gets the chance to freely try out their cars before they really have to focus on the season. You’re only stuck here as a precaution. It’s funny, you know…” He snorted. “You’ve been traveling a lot lately. And it’s been fine in the meantime. But as soon as you get here—”

“Are you saying that all of this is my fault?” The tension in the room was palpable as the argument raged on.

He rubbed his forehead as he looked up at the ceiling. He wouldn't even look at you — and somehow that annoyed you even more.

“Oh, I’m sorry for not being considerate enough to also get sick, it’s not like I can actually control that. But that might be my fucking fault, too. I’m too fucking busy being worried about your health. My bad.” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm your beating heart. You turned back over to face away from him.

You felt so tired and hurt. In the last few days, these walls have felt like a battleground, waiting for you to engage in combat. And all you keep doing is try to stand tall pretending to be the bravest soldier.

It all began with the relentless hate that had been heaped upon you recently. At first, it was fine, it was expected, and you would laugh about the things they were saying. You must have been blinded by the honeymoon phase, as some people call it, but all things must come to an end. Lately, Daniel's devoted fans had turned into a fierce mob, outraged and blaming you for his performance last year, saying it was all the time he's been spending with you instead of focusing on his career. The hateful comments and messages had started to poison the relationship.

You guessed that it was easier when you were the only target. It was bearable to an extent; you could take it. Wasn't the first time it happened, and you supposed it was all part of the “big show”. But once they started targeting him too – things took a 180-degree turn.

Daniel and you had been inseparable for two years, celebrating your anniversary not too long ago. Now, you both lay silently in your hotel room; the once fiery love now reduced to smoldering embers.

He sighed and turned his head in your direction. “Babe, I—”

“It’s okay.” You mumbled squeezing your eyes shut, trying to keep in the tears that threatened to fall. “Goodnight.”

He covered his eyes with his hands; he didn’t mean to snap at you like that. He could hear you taking deep breaths, and something in his chest felt heavy. This need to bicker, to fight with you had been present for a few weeks, but lately had reached an all-time high.

The 2021 Formula 1 season had brought with it a surge of emotions that Daniel hadn't anticipated. As he settled into his new role with McLaren, the pressure to prove he was the more experienced driver in his first year with the team weighed heavily on his shoulders.

Every race was a chance to show the world that he still had what it took to compete at the highest level of motorsport. The expectations were high, and the scrutiny was relentless. Fans, the media, and fellow drivers all wondered if the Honey Badger could return to his former glory.

The season brought a mix of highs and lows. The highlight, undoubtedly, was the victory in Monza. It was a moment that should have been celebrated longer as a triumph for both Daniel and McLaren. However, amidst the jubilation, there was a bitter undercurrent of frustration. It seemed that the team's focus was already shifting to the next race, their first win in 12 years overshadowed by the relentless march of time.

Daniel's frustration grew as he watched the spotlight turn away from Monza's victory. He yearned for the recognition, the culmination of a year of hard work and perseverance. But as the season continued, the pressure only increased. The wins were non-existent, and the losses weighed heavily on him, each one gnawing at his confidence.

The expectations for the coming season were higher than ever. He knew that he had to perform at his best to silence the critics and prove that he still had that competitive edge. The weight of those expectations seemed to hang over him, a constant reminder of the challenges that lay ahead.

Each race weekend would become a test, a chance to prove himself once again. The roar of the engines, the smell of burning rubber, and the pressure of the competition were all part of the Formula 1 world that he loved, but they also added to the mounting stress.

You couldn’t sleep at all.

Sleep evaded you that night. Your mind was racing a mile a minute, trying to figure out how to fix the fractured parts of the relationship. Where did it go wrong? The question replayed over and over again like a broken record.

You stretched your arm to grab your phone from the nightstand and check the time.

2:30 A.M. Just a little bit less than 4 hours until the sun would come out. And 5 more days until you both would be free to leave this room.

You stood up from the bed and went to Daniel’s bedside table to look for the fingertip pulse oximeter. Once you found it, you knelt down and took his hand, careful not to wake him, and placed the oximeter on the tip of his index finger. After a few seconds of waiting for the values to remain constant, you sighed with relief when a big 98 appeared under the oxygen saturation. Thankfully, his symptoms were not of great concern, and he showed constant improvements. But you didn’t want to risk it, so every few hours you made sure to check his vitals just so you could have a little peace of mind. Especially when he was sleeping.

You couldn’t help but look at him for a moment. He looked to be in a profound state of sleep, so calm and so beautiful. His features, usually animated and lively, rested in a serene calm. You observed the rise and fall of his chest, the tranquil expressions that danced across his face, and the gentle harmony of his breathing. In these hushed moments, it was like nothing had changed, where you were still you and he was still the same Daniel that promised you that you were a team.

As you gazed upon him, your heart was a mix of conflicting emotions. On one hand, there was the undeniable warmth and affection that comes from witnessing his vulnerability in slumber. Yet, a touch of sadness lingered, a bittersweet reminder of the unresolved tension from the previous fight. The serenity of his sleep served as a poignant backdrop to your disagreements, and you desperately longed for the chance to mend the rift and return to the peace you once shared.

It didn’t take long for the tears to appear again and you couldn’t help but curse being so sensitive. You stood up; you knew that going back to bed was useless, so you headed out of the room. You ended up curled up on the couch in the dark living room of your hotel room, the soft glow of your phone screen casting a bright light on your tear-streaked face. You debated whether calling one of the girls or just text them in need of letting all this helplessness out. But you didn't want to bother them with your problems, you knew they already had enough with their owns. So, you gave up on the idea.

Your relationship with Daniel had been a whirlwind of love and excitement, a passionate journey that had weathered ups and downs, but always coming out stronger on the other side. Now, you weren’t so sure you would come out of this unscathed.

Was it time to let it go? You couldn’t help but wonder. You weren’t new to this predicament. It happened before with your last relationship. But with Harry, the revelation that it was over came naturally and gently. You both were on the same page and knew it was inevitable. But with Daniel, your heart told you to continue, begged you to keep fighting while your mind was sending out warning signals that you chose to completely ignore.

The bright Bahraini sun shone through the big windows when Daniel, out of habit, rolled over to pull your body closer and instead felt the coldness of the sheets on your side of the bed. He opened his eyes and searched around the room. The bathroom door was open, and the lights were off, so you couldn’t be there. He stood up and left the room, yawning. He found you in the same place you ended up last night, curled up and holding a pillow to your chest.

The dark bags under your eyes were more prominent this morning. He couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt in his chest at the sight of you. He got closer and leaned down to place a tender kiss on your forehead and felt you stir for a moment before slowly opening your eyes. You rubbed your eyes before looking up at him silently.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” you said in a sleepy voice.

“What are you doing here?” he yawned, taking a seat on the couch as you moved back to give him space.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you replied in a muted voice, eyes downcast, fiddling with your fingernails.

And that was the routine after an argument: fight. One of you would try to walk away to calm down (most of the time it was you). Pretend nothing happened and go back to normal – well, whatever normal meant these days. Repeat.

A heavy silence settled between you. He leaned back on the couch, just staring at your face. He knew he should say something. Apologize even. But the words refused to come out. Meanwhile, thoughts swirled in your mind, doubts that had been lingering for a while now. Was it all in your head? Had you been the problem all along?

No.

As the seconds ticked by, the fog began to lift, and with it came a newfound clarity. It wasn't all in your head, and you weren't the sole problem. You had believed for so long it was your responsibility to make things right, to hold everything together. But it had been a shared responsibility, a partnership that had eroded in different ways.

Yes. You had both contributed to this.

You had underestimated the significance of his actions, his choices, and his words. In the process of taking all the blame, you had overlooked how he had let things slip away, how he had failed to communicate, and how he had allowed the distance to grow. You realized that it was a two-way street, and while you had been quick to accept responsibility for your part, it was time for both of you to acknowledge your roles in your shared demise.

Something within you was stirring, a growing realization that you couldn't keep shouldering the blame for everything. It wasn't fair to you, nor was it the path to a healthy and equal relationship.

"I can't do this anymore, Daniel," you murmured, your eyes brimming with sadness.

"No, no no— no we're not doing this—"

“Amor, please,” you pleaded in a whisper. Tears welled up in your eyes, but your resolve held firm. “We've been arguing about everything lately. All of this is hurting us. Your fans—”

Daniel's heart ached, but he lashed out in defense. “You know it's not that simple! I can't control what my fans say—”

Your irritation boiled over. "But you can defend me, Daniel! You can stand up for us!”

Frustration welled up in Daniel, his voice growing sharper. "I'm trying to protect what's left of my career, YN! Last season was awful for me, apart from one win, which was insignificant, apparently. I've got my own fucking problems!” He stood up forcefully and started to pace around the room.

Your anger flared and big angry tears streamed down your face. “You think it's only your career that's on the line? What about us? We're supposed to be a team, supporting each other. ‘Us against everything else’, remember? But you're making it all about you!” you screamed at him, standing up from where you were previously sitting.

He suddenly stopped in front of you. “You're too young and naive to understand the pressure I'm under. It's not just about us. It's about my career, it’s about my life! And that’s very rich coming from you,” he scoffed. “What about your fans, huh? The hate I'm getting from them and other people, it's taking a fucking toll!” he hissed. You stared at him, feeling shocked by his words. He kept going. “And let’s not forget how fucking clingy you’ve been. You suffocate me sometimes. Must be nice to have a job where you can just drop everything anytime you want and take paid vacations to follow me around.”

His words left you feeling as though the ground had been yanked from beneath your feet.

You're too young and naive. How fucking clingy you’ve been — You suffocate me sometimes. His words echoed incessantly in your mind like a stuck playback.

When did the insecurities shared transform into arrows, aimed at your most profound wounds?

You snapped, “You knew what you were getting into when we started dating. And I warned you. I gave you an out so many times, but you decided to stay.” A bitter laugh left your mouth. “You said I was the greatest risk you’ve ever taken and the greatest reward—”

“And I did think that, YN,” he uttered. “We lived inside a bubble for so long, but reality is different. Maybe we rushed into this too soon.”

“Come on, bury my heart deeper, Danielito. If that's what you're trying to do— it's working,” you said with a pained smile, eyes only focused on him.

The room seemed to grow colder, and your voices decreased in volume. But the damage had been done. Daniel realized the pain his words had caused, but his own frustration clouded his judgment. “This wouldn’t even be a problem, if you wouldn’t make one out of it,” he muttered bitterly.

“Please, don’t make this worse than it already is,” you agonized; your voice was shaky. Invisible claws of grief and anguish were tearing at the muscles and tendons in your chest. You never knew that emotions could possess such tangible, physical presence.

“If only we had met on different grounds. Then maybe things would have been different, we would be different.”

You couldn't help but add more fuel to the fire. You lacked the capacity for a graceful exit, and if you were aflame, you'd ensure that he, too, would turn to ashes. “Do you mean what if I was different?” A new wave of anger swept over you.

That question caught him off guard, forcing Daniel to pause and stare at you, honest surprise and confusion coloring his face. “What?”

Your voice trembled with a mix of frustration and hurt as you confronted him. “Heidi's constant presence in the paddock these past few months, the way you've been talking to her, and how people are speculating about you two... It's causing me to doubt myself and my place in your life.”

Daniel's brows furrowed, and his voice carried irritation. “YN, this is ridiculous. Heidi is just a friend. We've been through this countless times.”

You inched forward as you tried to make him understand. “I know she's your friend, but the way you've been spending time with her lately... it's different. I can't shake off the feeling that there might be something more.”

Daniel rolled his eyes, his frustration mounting. “You're being crazy, YN. We're just friends, and it's unfair of you to accuse me, and especially her, like this.” In a further defensive move, he shot back, “You're the one who had those cheating rumors circulating, not me. You should know how destructive and unfounded these accusations can be. And now, you're doing the same thing with Heidi?”

It felt like a hard punch to your gut, you took in a sharp breath, “So, you're bringing this up again? We already cleared the air about those false accusations when they hit us. I would never dare cheat on you!” Your frustration was palpable.

“And why is it so fucking hard to believe I wouldn’t either?” Suddenly, you could clearly see how sadness clouded his features.

The room seemed to close in around you both. Then, all of a sudden, you realized that healing from this and moving forward required a level of understanding and compassion that seemed beyond reach in the heat of this argument.

In that moment, you knew for certain that it was over. The love you had once celebrated, the memories you had shared, now felt like distant echoes of a happier time.

How did you both allow things to spiral into such chaos? This living room had transformed into a battleground, where words cut like knives. Where were the Daniel and YN who were deeply in love? The ones who, for the first time, felt safe to be vulnerable and discuss a future they had envisioned together; one with a couple of tiny little feet running around the farm in a couple of years and joking about how wild a perfect mix of Australian and Latino genes would be. Now, you stood face to face, unrecognizable, refusing to show any sign of surrender.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

It wasn’t supposed to end at all.

The silence in the room was suffocating. All the energy and adrenaline left your body at once. You felt emotionally drained, as though a storm had swept through your heart and left it battered and exhausted.

You took a sit back on the couch and ran your hands across your face, squeezing your eyes shut. “We can't go on like this.”

So, this is it, Daniel thought. Dread twisted in his gut; he felt like he might throw up. His shoulders slumped and he raked his fingers through his hair as he took a seat next to you. The vulnerability in your words cut him deeply, but he understood the gravity of the situation. "You're right," he admitted, his voice choked with emotion. “We tried, didn’t we? We gave it our best shot” a sad smile adorned his tired face. “For what it’s worth, I really am sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.” he murmured as tears shone in his eyes.

“I'm sorry, too. I wanted to make it work. I always just wanted to be the one.” Your heart seemed to shatter into even smaller fragments. As you wiped away a single tear that trickled down your cheek, the physical act of brushing it away only served to accentuate the profound pain that had settled within your chest. It felt as though each tear carried with it a piece of your shattered dreams and the love that was now slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. In that fleeting moment, your heartache intensified, and you realized that this breakup was leaving you more broken than you had ever thought possible.

As the final words echoed in the room, you, your tears spent, turned and walked out into the bedroom, leaving Daniel alone with the weight of what had just transpired.

As soon as you left the room, you locked yourself in the bathroom and texted Blake. You asked him if there was any chance, he could talk to the hotel so you could get another room for the remaining time you had to be in quarantine. The request took him by complete surprise, and you explained shortly that Daniel and you had just broken up.

He assured you he was going to do everything in his power to get you a new room. You were sure that as soon as you hung up the phone, he was already texting Daniel asking for a better explanation.

As you sat on the bathroom floor, the pain was all-encompassing, a relentless throb deep within your chest that left you gasping for air. It felt as though a gaping void had taken up residence in your heart, and you weren’t sure how to fill it.

Tears flowed freely down your cheeks. Numbness had started to settle in. A surreal feeling that this couldn't be real, that you would wake up from this nightmare at any moment. You wished that a switch would flip and make it all go away, but the pain persisted.

Bitterness and anger boiled within you. You felt wronged by the universe, by the cruel twist of fate that had torn you both apart. You resented the public scrutiny, the relentless judgment from fans and strangers alike, and the demands of your high-profile careers.

You felt unbearably alone. You longed for Daniel’s presence, for the familiar comfort of his arms, but he was no longer yours to hold. Your heart ached for the man you thought, for a short period, you would spend the rest of your life with, even though you knew that was no longer possible. The pain of heartbreak was, for you, an agonizing and inescapable reality, and you had yet to discover how to heal and move forward.

Turns out Blake went beyond of what you initially asked for. He arranged for you to take the PCR test again to confirm that you had not contracted the virus while sharing a room with Daniel.

After two slow and torturous days, where you spent your time curled up on the couch and Daniel spent his in the bedroom — a decision you made, he was the sick one after all. After two consecutive negative results, you were given the green light to leave. You had already packed your things after your call with Blake a few days ago, hoping you could change rooms. He had asked you if you needed anything else, saying he was willing to facilitate everything for you. He saw you as a fundamental part of this little dysfunctional family and had developed a deep affection for you. You couldn’t thank him enough.

Soon you had a plane waiting to take you back to L.A., to a house, not a home, all alone. You were leaving behind what you've come to realize was your home in the last two years.

You awkwardly said goodbye to Daniel. Your voice sounded tired, while he shifted on his feet on the threshold of the bedroom door. Curls wild, beard a bit longer than the past days and the bags under his eyes looked even more prominent. Despite the visible signs of weariness on both of you, you still couldn't draw any solace from the shared pain.

You knew you had to find your own path, to heal from these wounds, and to rediscover who you were outside of the relationship. As the plane took off, you made a silent promise to yourself to emerge from this ordeal stronger, wiser, and ready to face the world, no matter how unforgiving it might be.

#the joker and the queen fic #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #latina!reader #daniel ricciardo x female reader #daniel ricciardo angst #( agentstarkid's works )

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siriuslysmoking · 4 months

Text

Into It

Part 3 of Meddle About

Series Masterlist

A/N: Sorry it took me so long to get a new chapter out for you, holidays, work, and back to school. Reader's texts are in bold, Steve's are in italics.

Pairing: Fem!college student x sugar daddy!steve

Warnings: fem!reader, she/her pronouns, alcohol consumption, age gap (R:21, S:29), indications of sexual intercorse (nothing happens- false alarm),

Word Count: 2k

Summary: Working and being a student is tough, you never seem to have a moment to yourself, so when one of you co-workers needs a shift and offers to take your saturday night double, you take it. Finally going out with your friends you encounter a strange man with a strange proposition.

-Pull up and I'm higher than the big trees, yeah She don't really like it but she needs me, yeah She saying she don't really miss me But fuck it, now I'm faded after all things, yeah-

"Andrea?" You walk around the party, looking for your friend, but you come up empty, looking in every room and corner. "Michelle, have you seen Andrea?"

"Yeah, she left like thirty minutes ago."

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Andrea was your ride home and all your other friends are here and drunk. You don't feel like taking an uber alone and drunk, that doesn't seem safe. But as you're scouring your contact list you come over a name that your have talked to in three weeks.

welp, why not?

-Hello?

The groggy voice makes you groan, it's deep and husky. "Hey, Steve, it's me."

-Are you okay?

You here the slight panic in his voice as it becomes more clear. "Yeah, um, my ride kind of left me... and I'm moderately functional right now, and I don't trust any people here to get me home safely. I didn't have anyone else to call."

-Where are you?

"I'll send you my location." You breath out a sigh of relief, "Thank you."

-I'll be there soon, angel.

You hang up and quickly send Steve your address and make your way outside, pushing through the sweaty bodies.

Twenty minutes later you see his BMW pull up, you stand up from your place on the front porch. You see him get out hurriedly, you've never seen him so disheveled before, his hair is a mess from his pillow and he's in sweatpants and a t-shirt.

"Are you okay." He gets to you and places his hands on your cheeks, looking you over to make sure that you're unharmed.

"Yeah, I'm alright, thank you."

"I still have your address, I'll take you home."

"Fuck, I can't go home." You sigh, while Steve tries to help you into your car. "Mia is having a night with her boyfriend, I was supposed to stay at my friends Andrea's, but she had the bright idea of coming here."

"Are you okay with coming to my place?" He looks you over, "I can take you home in the morning."

"I have I ever told you how great of a guy you are, Harrington?" You drunkenly smirk at him.

"This would be a first," He smiles as you sit in his passenger seat, "So my place?"

"Hey, Mr. take me out to dinner first." You laugh at him.

"Love, I did take you out." He shakes his head, getting in his seat.

"Your place would be wonderful." You smile at him, thanking him once again after giving his thigh a pat.

A crash is what wakes you, you look around a see nothing that sparks any familiarity. Where are you?

You look around, getting out of bed, and you realise that your dress is half off and your bra is on the floor. You hands start to shake as you put on your clothes. Then your eyes catch on a pile of clothes on a chair in the corner. It's a black t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, there's a note on top of the pile that reads:

Going for a run, be back soon -Steve

You finally breathe out a sigh of relief realising where you are. You hear some banging from outside the door and you quickly dress yourself before adventuring outside of the room.

You hear more crashing when you walk down the hallway, you pass windows and realise that you are on the top floor of an apartment building that you pass everyday on your way to work. Of course Steve lives in the fucking penthouse.

Before you can turn the corner into the living room you get jumped on by a blur of tan. A golden retriever jumps onto you, making you almost lose your balance.

Steve must have heard the commotion because he rounds the corner, looking at you in surprise, "Daisy, get down."

Daisy listens to Steve and sits on the ground with her tail wagging and a smile on her face. "Sorry, she loves strangers."

You just laugh, petting daisy behind her ears and giving her some head scratches before your eyes move to Steve. "I cannot thank you enough for picking me up... but did anything happen-"

"Between us? No! I would never-"

"Thanks." You laugh, cutting him off.

"I would never do anything with someone who was intoxicated while I was sober." He breathes out, "I made some breakfast, are you hungry?"

"Starved." You smile as Steve calls Daisy to eat. You sit on a stool on his island as he makes a plate for you, "Thank you."

"How'd you sleep?" Steve asks, turning off the stove, before facing you, leaning against the counter with his own plate in front of him.

"Like a rock." You laugh taking a bite of your Eggs Benedict. "I need the mattress you have."

"It's a good one."

"How come... I was half naked?"

"Ah- um, I carried you to the guest bedroom and before I could get clothes for you to change into you decided that you could just sleep naked, so I left you to your own devices." Steve laughs, running a hand through his hair, "I came back in about ten minutes later to make you were okay, but you were knocked out by them."

"That's- That's embarrassing."

"Nah- It's fine." He laughs, shaking his head, "It happens to the best of us, I promise."

He gives you a beaming smiles before taking another bite of his breakfast. "We haven't talked in a while, how have you been?"

"Good, I've just been working, been busy." His smile fades, "I didn't mean to drop off the face of the earth like that."

"It happens to the best of us." You repeat his line from earlier.

"How's school?" He asks, taking a sip of his coffee.

"It's alright, as long as I'm graduating I'm alright." He just nods, busying himself with his meal, "I don't know where my phone went."

"Oh, you dropped it on the couch so I plugged it in for you." He hands you your phone and you open it to a hundred texts from Andrea with an apology after apology. "I said I would take you home, when do you wanna head out?"

"I'll get out of your hair soon I promise."

"That's not what I meant." He says in all seriousness.

"I know, but I've got work tonight, so I should probably leave sometime soon to get ready."

"Alright, as soon as your ready, I'm gonna rinse off in the shower."

The next time you hear from Steve is the next week, you're walking out of your final class of the day when you receive a text from him.

-Hey, Honey! I was wondering if you'd want to meet up for lunch on thursday?

Usually you're asked a couple hours prior but the thought that Steve is asking you out four days before the designated date makes your heart oddly flutter. Wow, men are disappointing.

Hey, I would love to! Tell me when and where to meet you!

-Meet? Sweetheart, I will not make you drive. How does noon sound? Pick you up from your place or school?

School, I'd be finishing up Sociology class.

-Tell me where to pick you up and I'll be there, angel.

And he does, not a minute late, as soon as you walk out of your class you see him in the distance shifting his car into park.

You don't even notice your smile spreading until you notice he’s returning it when you get closer. He’s gotten outside of his car and has the passenger seat open for you- which is the door closest to the sidewalk.

“Hey honey, how was your class?” He speaks when you get closer, opening the door for you.

“Good, how was work?” You step into the car and reply.

“Same old, same old.” He shrugs before softly closing the door and rounding the car to his side.

“So where to?” You ask once he fastens his seatbelt.

“I thought that you could choose.” He looks toward you with a small smile.

“Oh no.”

“Wh-what?” Steve’s smile disappears in an instance.

“I am the most indecisive person in the world.”

“You can’t be anymore than my best friend, she’s the worst!” Steve laughs, “Pick your favorite place.”

“Ugh, alright.”

That’s how you get a man in business attire into a diner down the street from your apartment. “So why is this your favorite place?”

“The fries.” you point one at him, “Fries are a type of art, you know? Waffle, steak, curly, etcetera etcetera.”

“Oh, do tell me more about the art of fries.”

“See, now you’re just making fun of me.”

“I’m not, I’m not.”

“You don’t want me to get into the whole ranch art.”

“Ranch art?”

“Listen, growing up I would always go to this Bar and Grill and they had the best homemade ranch.” You laugh at his expression, as if you’re telling the most riveting story. “I always got their fries best, it complements the ranch so well-” You pause and furrow your eyebrows, “I’m sorry, I promise I’m not trying to chase you off with ranch.”

“No, go ahead.” He laughs, leaning forward in his seat.

“No, I’m done talking about food.” You shake your head, refusing to speak again even with Steve’s expression.

“Alright, I think it’s time for me to actually tell you why you’re here.”

“Oh, the man has ulterior motives.” You playfully shrug.

“No, no.” He shakes his head, “Uh- my birthday is coming up, around where you spring break is, and I want to go out of town…”

“Do you need me to watch Daisy?” You ask with a laugh.

“No, I was wondering if you would- if you would want to come… with me.” Steve looked like it was painful to say, “I don’t know, it would be nice to have company, if it’s too soon, I totally get.” He rambles, “If you say no, then I might take you up on watching Daisy.” Steve jokes.

“Can I think about it?”

“Of course!” He shoots up, like he was already preparing for rejection. “It’s in a month, so if you needed to plan ahead, you would have time, with work or whatever.”

“Okay.” You nod with a small smile.

When you got home you went straight to Mia’s room after you closed the door, saying goodnight to Steve. “Do I go on a really nice vacation in the Bahamas with Steve?”

“Girl- what?” Mia closes her laptop and dramatically throws it aside on her bed.

“He asked me when we went out to lunch, he sent me all the information, where we’d be staying, what we’d be doing, our plane tickets. Everything.” You saw, sitting on her bed, facing her, “I wanna go and I need you to talk me out of it.”

“You’re an adult, you can make your own decisions.”

“But I can’t though.” You huff, falling back onto the bed.

“Do you feel safe around him?”

“Yes.”

“Has he ever shown you that you can’t trust him?” You look to her, knowing where this is going.

“No.”

“Will you have service the entire time on the trip?” She raises her eyebrows with a small smile.

“Yes.” You grumble.

“Then I don’t see why not.”

“Really?”

“Yes, you can give me your location the entire time, daily calls, if anything happens I will have where you’re staying and his information.” She just shrugs.

“You’re right.”

“And you need to get out and have some fun.”

“Okay… Okay…. I’m gonna text him,” You pause, “Tomorrow.”

“Sleep on it.”

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#stranger things #stranger things s4 #steve harrington #steve harrington x plus size!reader #steve x plus size reader #steve harrigton x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x plus sized reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x eddie munson #Spotify #Meddle About

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