Tumgik
#my only solace is that he’s 3 hours away from her
she-is-amused · 1 year
Note
Your 20 years old cousin is with a 35 years old predator????
I’m not sure he’s a full predator, but when a 35 year old man who’s pretty well established in his life asks a 20 year old girl who is quite obviously from an extremely sheltered religious background if they can get to know each other better and plainly says that he would maybe like to marry her, my first instinct is a shotgun.
Technically they’re just talking on the phone for a few hours a couple nights per week as friends. She says she’s not sure she’s ready to get married. But her dad told her last weekend that he approved of a courtship between them, and she is still talking to the guy.
She has a bit of God-given wisdom but literally no life experience and her parents are possibly the most impressively moronic people I know. My hopes are not high in this situation but I’m attempting to intervene and talk sense into her (not that I have much sway 😣).
11 notes · View notes
leaentries · 3 months
Text
shield | nico hischier
summary: nico is very protective of his girl, so when someone hurts her, he takes it personally.
warnings: protective nico, physical harassment, swearing, slight violent themes
wc: 1.6k+
a/n: another 3am nico fic 🕺 this one’s a lil bit heavier than most of my nico fics, but don’t worry! i have some new spicy things coming up!
the captain’s girl masterlist
Tumblr media Tumblr media
The bar was jammed. Sweaty bodies pressed into every corner of the bricked building, the heat almost unbearable. A door in the back, propped open was your only solace, serving nicely with the winter air wafting in. Although, despite the sticky air and stench of beer, you couldn’t be happier.
You stood by Nico’s side, practically glued to him, not that he would complain. Nico loved the feeling of your body against his, it brought him comfort knowing you were safely tucked away from the world. He was over the moon, still riding the high of tonight’s win. It was a solid win too. Nico got out with a 3-point night, his ego soaring.
Now, you would never admit this sober, but you loved when he got cocky. The way his body demeanor would change and he would have a special swagger in his step. The sexy smirk that never seemed to leave his face every time his gleaming eyes would settle down to yours. It was almost embarrassing the grasp this man had on you, but you loved every second of it. 
His dark shirt clung tightly to his sweaty body, the heat around you two making a visible impression. 
You sat next to him at a table with some of the team, celebrating their win. Seeing the wide smile on Nico’s face made you want to take everything bad in the world and toss it away. That way Nico could smile forever. 
His arm rested on your thigh, corded with thick veins, squeezed slightly, just as reassurance. You squeezed his hand back. 
“You know, I still can’t believe that Merc just left like that! I was in the middle of talking too. What an ass.”
You looked over to where Jack’s voice echoed. His annoyed face set on where Dawson was talking to some girl near the bar. You felt a chuckle rise in your throat, causing you to shove your face into Nico’s arm in an attempt to smother it. 
Nico looked down at you with amused eyes, “What’s so funny, schatzi?”
You let out a breath, shaking your head, “Nothing much, Neeks. Just Jacky.” 
Nico glanced over his shoulder at Jack, who was still complaining to his, very bored, little brother. He nodded his head slowly in understanding. When he turned back to the table, he noticed your tired eyes. 
“You tired, pretty? You’ve been awfully quiet.” 
This was true, but only because you enjoyed watching Nico so much. To you, that was more entertaining than talking. 
“Yep, I’m all good!” You gave him a big smile. Nico searched your eyes for any insincerity but failed to find any. Accepting your answer, he turned back to Holtz, engaging in a spirited conversation about certain plays during the game. 
After half an hour or so, your drink had finally run out, your empty cup now urging to be filled. You nudged Nico’s arm, gaining his attention. 
“I’m gonna go get a refill,” You shook your empty cup, proving your point. 
His brows furrowed, “Want me to come with you?” His eyes flickered to the large number of people, “It’s a bit crowded over by the bar.” 
You smiled at his concern, but denied his request, “No thank you, baby. I’ll be fine.” 
He hesitantly agreed, placing a kiss on your temple and a quick, “Be careful,” as you left. 
Shimmying your way through the dense population proved to be a lot harder than you originally anticipated, getting bumped back and forth violently. By the time you had reached the bar, you could have sworn you had whiplash.
Quickly flagging down a bartender, you ordered your drink and secured a spot to wait. You bit the inside of your cheek, suddenly feeling uncomfortable by the obvious male gazes from every direction. You could only hope that one didn’t have the balls to approach you, but alas, luck wasn’t on your side tonight. 
A lean man, of about 5’8, approached you, clearly too inebriated to be thinking correctly. His scruff was patchy and gross, the tell-tail signs of a failed attempt at growing a beard. His red shirt loosely hung on his body, beer wetting the sides of it. At least, you hoped it was beer. He stumbled into the slot beside you, almost on top of you. 
“Hey, sexy. What’s your name?” His voice was grating, not a sultry tone to be heard. You found yourself repulsed by his presence, now desperately wishing Nico had come with you.
“None of your business, but thanks for asking.” You gave him a snide smile, hoping he would take the very obvious hint that you weren’t interested. 
“Whoa, attitude, missy. I just asked your name.”
“And I don’t care.” You rolled your eyes, the strange man not making an effort to leave.
“Damn, if you’re this feisty all the time, I know a much better way to put that mouth to use.”  
Fear pitted deep in your stomach at the dark look on the man’s face. Needing toi escape, you tried to make a move to leave, but he blocked your way, now caging you to the bar top. Your breath picked up in a panic, frantically searching for someone to help. It was far too loud to call for anyone and everyone around you was already preoccupied with their own conversations. 
Deciding to fight back, you lifted your arm to slap the man who was rapidly approaching you. His hand came up to grip your arm harshly, drawing a hiss from your lips as pain spiked through your wrist. Tears sprung in your eyes as you tried your hardest to free yourself from the man’s body. You felt helpless as your voice died in your throat, shutting your eyes tightly.
You prepared yourself for the worst until you felt the man’s weight abruptly leave. Your eyes shot open, seeing a blur of the man get thrown to the ground. The familiar figure of your boyfriend towered over the cowering stranger. 
Nico reached down, gripping the man’s collar, dragging him to his feet, and slamming him against the nearest wall. 
“What the fuck, do you think you’re doing?” Nico’s eyes were ablaze with fury, a hard look resting on his once-happy face. 
“I-I don’t know man,” The stranger was gasping, obviously terrified of the much larger man holding him to the wall, “I was just trying to get some pussy, like every other guy in the bar.” His meek words only fueled Nico’s anger. 
“Don’t you ever fucking touch my woman like that again. Don’t ever touch any woman like that. You’re a fucking pussy.” Nico’s voice was laced with disgust as he spat at the man. Holtz and Jack rushed over, attempting to pull Nico away. He dropped the guy, worry for you now seeping into his clouded mind. 
Nico was by your side within seconds, pulling your shaking form into his arms. He tucked you under his chin, tightly holding you, “It’s okay, schatzi,” He brought up a hand to cradle your head, “You’re okay. I’m here now, Nico’s here.” 
You let out a slight sob, your arms recoiling into your body as you gingerly held your bruising wrist. Nico pulled away, eyes desperately raking your body to determine the cause of your pain. Once his eyes settled on your wrist, he held out his hand, silently asking to inspect the damage.
Nico felt a new wave of anger take over his body, now practically shaking as he tried his hardest to not go beat the shit out of the guy. The man had hurt you. Hurt his girl. If it were up to Nico, that guy wouldn’t be breathing right now, but fortunately for the stranger, murder is illegal. Nico carefully guided your body to the exit, not bothering to bid goodbyes. 
Only once the two of you hit the cold parking lot and the adrenaline started to wear off, did you fully begin to comprehend the severity of what had happened. A fresh batch of tears formed in your eyes,  sobs rapidly pouring from your lips. Your body shook with the pure force of the cries that pierced their way through Nico’s chest.
He immediately pulled you tightly into his body, making sure to be mindful of your wrist. Nico felt his own tears well up in his eyes at your pain. He hated that he couldn’t help you, but he hated even more that he was in the building when it happened and didn’t get to you soon enough.
“I’m so sorry, baby.” Nico sniffed, “It’s all my fault this happened.” 
You shook your head against his chest, slightly pulling away to look into his deeply saddened eyes, “No, don’t do that. Don’t blame yourself for something you couldn’t control.” 
“I knew I should have gone with you. If I was there then he wouldn’t have hurt you.” He looked away biting his lip as he tried not to cry. His broken voice stabbed your heart. It was gut-wrenching to see Nico blame himself for what that man did. 
“Stop, Nico. It was not your fault,” You held his face gently, forcing him to meet your eyes, “Please, stop blaming yourself. I chose to go by myself, that’s not on you.” He opened his mouth to protest, but you were too quick, “Don’t say anything else. Please, for me? Stop.” 
He nodded slowly as tears silently slid down his cheeks. Nico reached up, carefully cradling your wrist that was near his face, leaning to place a sweet kiss on the black and blue splotches.
 “Let me get you home, schatzi. Wanna take care of you.” 
897 notes · View notes
sykostyles · 1 month
Text
let you love me 1.1
Tumblr media
wc: 4.5k
summary: in which y/n is a 26 year old bakery owner and she can't quite get this whole "love" thing right; settling on finding solace in being alone. One day, Jackson Cole: an egotistical, but oh so charismatic professional quarterback comes along and swears he can change her mind.. and for a while he does. nearly two years of breaking down her walls.. but they seem to argue about one thing a lot. y/n's "negativity". she swears she's not trying ro be a pessimist.. it just works out better for her if she keeps her expectations low. But what happens when she meets a handsome stranger, who wants nothing more than to see her smile? Will she push everything away again or will she finally accept the love she deserves? or ; tldr sunshine! harry x grumpy! afab reader part one, three
Tumblr media
a/n: welcome to part 2! I thought I would be done with this in two parts but the words just keep coming out of my brain. so there will be one more part to this! (and its already been started!)
THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR THE LOVE ON PART ONE!! I can't believe this many people are interested in my brain child. I hope you all enjoy this part as well!
Tumblr media
cw: this story contains suggestive and explicit language, minor descriptions of violence, and verbal abuse. please do not continue if these topics upset you!
Tumblr media
Not much has changed in the apartment above the bakery, a good bit of your belongings remained here after you moved in with Jackson. You were thrilled when the gentleman who sold you the business told you it included the unit upstairs. “How perfect?” you thought. Slowly but surely you’d ended your lease on your previous place and made the arrangements to live above the bakery. You spent all of your time there anyways.
The last time you were here flashed through your brain and made you grimace. Images of wet lips, clashing teeth.. hands exploring curves.. All flashing in your mind. You’d been out with Jackson for your anniversary and neither of you could wait until you got back to your shared apartment, so a bit of a pit stop was made. But having those thoughts of Jackson at this moment only make you want to throw up the sweets you’d tested earlier.
Peeling your clothes from your body, you make your way into the shower and the spiraling thoughts ensue. Why am I like this? Why can’t I be loved the way I am? Is it actually me? Am I really the problem? Why? Why? WHY?? Sliding down the tile wall, your knees come to your chest and you just sob.
Twenty minutes turn into an hour, into an hour and a half and then nearly two hours. You’d been in there so long you didn't even realize the water had turned ice cold. You were numb to everything. 
A knock on your door startles you out of your stupor. Quickly, you shut the shower off and grabbed a towel. “Nobody even knows I'm here,” you think to yourself, making your way to the door. Glancing through the peephole you see your best friend, Carly, looking rather distressed.
“Y/N I know you’re in there.” No, you don’t.. “Your car is outside.” No, it’s not.. “I can see the shadows of your feet at the bottom of the door.” No, you can’t.. “Y/N, open the door. Jackson said you took off when I came looking for you.” No, I don't want anyone to see me like this. “I know you can hear me, don’t make me call in a wellness check. You know I will.” Memories of officers knocking down your door at 3 am when you wouldn’t answer Carly's “are you alive?” messages flashed in your brain.
Your hands shoot up and unlock the deadbolt, swiftly opening the door for your friend to step inside, closing the door with a click behind her.
She turns to look at you, taking in all of your features, Severely swollen eyes, tear stained cheeks, and the frown weighing on your lips.
“I’ll kill him.” She says, turning towards the door. “No!” you object, reaching out to grab her arm. “Please, d-don’t leave.” You say, demeanor crumbling. Your legs begin to shake as you start to cave. Carly reaches out with both hands, stabilizing your arms. “Woah, okay. It’s okay. You’re okay.” she says as she guides you both to the floor, pulling you to rest on her front. “Everything will be okay.” she says. Will it? You think to yourself.
Tumblr media
Carly was someone you met in your first year in college. Now she's a 27 year old journalist. Originally she was your freshman year dorm mate. It was instant friendship. I mean instant. You would have thought your first interaction was two friends meeting up again after not seeing each other for a while. Accompanying each other to frat parties, skipping classes together, what have you. Where one was, the other wasn’t too far behind. She helped you get over some of the darkest times of your life. 
Losing both of your parents at the age of 20 isn’t something anyone should ever have to deal with, but having Carly by your side made it a little easier. She also didn’t judge, or object when you decided to drop out of college your junior year after their passing. And when the opportunity came up for you to buy the bakery, she knew owning it was your all time dream so.. she handed you a check for 5k.. saying it was her way of investing in your passions. Granted, the bakery wasn’t located on the Amalfi coast in Italy, but your shop where you’re at would have to do for now. You were grateful for her to say the least.
Jackson? Hated her. She tried to make you see your worth. Carly? Also not a big fan of Jackson. “Ugh a J name? Have I taught you nothing?” She’d joked with you when you told her about him. Even after you’d told her about his constant attention and nice gestures, she still wasn’t convinced. “They all just have that type.” she’d started, making you roll your eyes. “AND he’s a professional football player? Y/N!”
“I finally want to give a guy a chance again, and this is your reaction?” 
“I’m not saying you shouldn’t go for it, I'm saying to be careful. These guys all have a reputation.”
“Carls, I swear it feels like he’s different. You don’t see the way he looks at me.”
“Babe, just promise me you’ll be careful, okay? I just don’t want to see you get hurt.” 
Famous last words.
Tumblr media
After half an hour of Carly consoling you on the floor against your apartment door, she peers down at you, noticing your sniffles had quieted. You’re staring off into space while your thoughts just race.
“Hey, I love you and all but my legs are seriously starting to cramp.” She says, breaking the silence. You chuckle softly, being broken out of your haze. “Sorry,” you mumble, pulling yourself to your feet slowly.
“You go get dressed, I’m going to make you a cup of coffee.”
“You don-” “Ah ah ah, go.” She says, turning your shoulders in the direction of your bedroom. “No objections.” You make your way down the short hallway. Silently thanking yourself for not taking every single article of clothing with you when you moved in with Jackson.
Settling on a pair of leggings and an oversized sweatshirt, you make your way back to Carly.
“Now, we don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to,” she says, holding a mug out to you across the island, “but you know I'm here to listen whenever you’re ready.”
You grab the mug from her grasp, and look down into it. “Am I too rough?” You asked timidly, not looking up.
“I'm sorry, what? Too rough? What makes you think that?” She questions, head tilted to the side, You give her a look that can only be summarized as “what do YOU think?”
“Did he seriously say that?”
“Mm, amongst other things.” You say, taking a sip of your coffee. “Apparently I need to be more obedient.”
“I swear I’ll kill him.” Her fist slammed down on the countertop, making you jump.
“He’s not worth it.” She reaches out, placing her hands over yours. “No, but you are.” You offer a smile at that. Though it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Well, do you want to talk about it?” 
You nod. “Yeah. I just.. need to mull over it in my head first.”
“How about I order us some of your favorite take out, pick up a bottle of our favorite wine, and we can have a night on the couch like we used to? Watch some terrible rom coms?”
“That sounds.. Wonderful, Carls. Thank you.”
“Course. What are best friends for? Now, you go get us a sweet treat from downstairs and pick us our first awful movie. I’ll be back in 20.” She says, placing a friendly kiss atop your head and ruffling your hair on the way out.
After Carly’s return, you both promptly made home on the couch you’d spent most of your college nights together. She listened to your recount of what happened.. More threats to Jackson’s life were made.. Of course you quickly reeled her back in with the wine bottle. Promises to be there for whatever you needed were made, not that it needed to be said. She made a wonderful distraction for you for the rest of the night.
But night turns into day and unfortunately, life moves on. Whether we’re ready to or not. 
Tumblr media
Carly makes sure you have your morning coffee before she has to make her way to her “big girl job” as she puts it. But I guess anyone with the privilege of working for the biggest sports magazine would make anyone feel a little intimidated by their job.
You begrudgingly make your way downstairs a little before your opening time and started setting all of your tools you’d need for the day. Going about your daily morning routine, trying not to let the gnawing feelings in the back of your head bother you as you help your few regular morning customers. Your favorite was probably Henry; a little old widow who always buys a peanut butter cookie to share with his very friendly pitbull, Rocco. He says peanut butter cookies used to be his wife's favorite, so he eats one every day to feel close to her. That story nearly ruined your day when he told you, but he immediately scolded you for crying. “Now, none of that. Life happens, dear. Pain is only temporary if you let it be.” His words didn’t seem to help you much right now, but you know he’d be scolding you for letting this affect you this way.
“Good morning, Mr. Henry. Rocco. How are we today?” You ask, reaching down to scratch behind Rocco’s ears.
“Oh, just peachy dear. Rocco had his yearly visit this morning and is in need of his reward.”
“Well, it’s not much of a reward when he gets one every day, Mr. Henry now is it?” Raising your eyebrow at the gentleman as you wash your hands.
“Ah, there she is. Good morning to you too.” He chuckles. How are you doing today, dear?”
“I gotta be honest with you, Mr. Henry.. It’s a rough day. Probably going to be a few rough days. But I know I’ll manage just fine. Especially if seeing you and Rocco is something I have to look forward to.” 
“But won’t you be closed tomorrow? For the championship game?” He questions, handing you the cash for his payment.
Your heart sinks at the thought.
Crap. 
"People will wonder why I'm not there and it’s going to start spreading. Everyone is going to know what happened. Or at least Jackson’s version of what happened. Maybe I should make a post letting people know. No. They won’t care. Who am I kidding of course they will. They all act like high schoolers. Am I going to be posted all over social media?  How is he going to spin this?  Or will it go quietly? Knowing Jackson, he’ll demand a press relea-"
“Y/N? You alright?” Henry’s worried voice snaps you out of your steady spiral.
“Yeah, sorry.” You sniffle. The back of your hand coming up to wipe the tears that had escaped. “Um, no. I’ll be open tomorrow. I won’t be at the game. Or any games for that matter. Jackson and I aren’t together anymore.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, honey.” He reaches out and tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear.
“It’s okay, Mr. Henry. You don’t have to lie, I know you hated him too.” You push out a strained laugh.
“Well, yeah. He inhibited my ability to buy cookies on some sundays. And he was no good for you. But I'll spare you that lecture for now. I can see you’re upset.”
“I probably need to hear it, to be honest.” You say.
“One day, maybe. But you do your best to get through the day.” Picking his cookie box up from the counter he continues, “Fix your face though. No more tears. You have cookies to sell.”
You chuckle. “You got it, Mr. Henry. See you tomorrow?”
“Of course, dear. Have a great rest of your day. See you tomorrow, let’s go Rocco.” He says before he’s out the door, pitbull in tow.
You take the opportunity to duck into the bathroom to splash some cold water on your face and bring yourself back down. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you force yourself to smile and wipe the excess water off. “Pain is only temporary if you let it be.” You say to yourself, making your way out of the bathroom.
Spinning the cake on the lazy susan once it was done being decorated was always your favorite part. Seeing all of your work just perfectly pieced together, every flower laid perfectly, every swirl placed intentionally. Cake decorating was your main passion, but you picked up everything else along the way. Baking and decorating ran in the family after all. Your grandmother bought you your first cake kit, your first big kitchen aid mixer, got you your first cake decorating job at 15, etc. She really helped you form the love that you have for the craft now. Before she passed away when you were 18, she would bring you to this very bakery nearly every weekend to see the different cakes in the case. You owed your love for the craft to her, and you try to show your appreciation to her every day in your work. Always learning new techniques and trying new ideas. Your current obsession was learning this new palette knife technique where you quite literally paint the flowers on the cake with a palette knife. It’s turning out to be quite tricky, but Nana didn't raise no quitter!
You’re boxing up your last order of the day, back facing the door. The little bell sounds, “Hello! Welcome. I’ll be with you in just one moment!” You say, closing the last bit of the box down.
“Oh, don’t worry about me, Love.”
Wait. That voice. That nickname.
Placing the box in the order cooler, you finally turned to the counter, taking in the man before you. You being shocked is an understatement, The man you face planted into yesterday was standing in your bakery.. Waiting for you to speak. 
Speak, Y/N, Speak.
“H-hello. Can I help you? You manage to get out.
“Well, what’s good?” He asks. 
Weird. 
He’s not going to bring up yesterday?
You scoff. “I’m the owner. So it’s all good. But I might be a little biased.” You say, wiping your hands on your apron. “But my cupcakes are my best sellers.”
“I see that, your case looks well picked over.” He says, walking over to the display on his right. “Do you have a favorite?”
“Mm, probably the red velvet. They’re my number one. Chocolate peanut butter is my close second.”
“Everything is homemade?” He inquires with a raised brow, and a smirk of course.
“What do you think?” You challenge. Seriously, what is your problem, y/n?
“I’ll take one of each then.” He says with a smile, walking back to the counter.
“Coming right up.” Boxing them up carefully, you set them on the counter. You tap a few buttons on your register and give him his total. He hands you his sleek black credit card, making you internally scoff and roll your eyes.
“Thank you for stopping in. Have a great rest of your day,” You say, turning away from the counter.
“You don’t remember me?” You hear from behind you. You can almost hear the smirk on his face.
“Oh I do, but if I'm being honest, I just don’t really care that much. Have a great day, Harry.” You say, rounding the corner into the back room.
You hear the little bell sound again, signaling he left.
“Why are you like this?” you say to yourself. 
Tumblr media
The following few weeks were a blur. Nothing major came of you not making an appearance at the championship game. A few comments made on social media, but nothing you couldn’t handle. Just block and delete.
Henry and Rocco made sure they made their daily stop to see you of a morning. Henry even brought you a coffee from that shop down the street a few times. 
Carly stopped by every day during her lunch break to check on you.
“You know you don’t have to babysit me, right?
“I know, but how else will I get my daily cupcake?” She laughs, peeling the paper off the bottom of said cupcake.
Someone else was also making a daily stop, much to your dismay.
You and Carly were sitting at the little table with two chairs you have by the big shop window, just chatting about each other's day when the doorbell chimes, pulling your attention from the conversation.
Looking towards the door, you immediately roll your eyes. “Just, give me a minute.” You grumble to Carly before taking your spot behind the counter.
“Hi, how can I help you?” Emerald eyes bore into yours as you spoke.
“Good afternoon, Love.” He smiles warmly at you, “I’ll take the same as yesterday. Seems those were a hit for my friend Ryan out there.” Glancing over his shoulder you see Ryan standing outside the door.
“He can come in too, ya know.” you say, boxing up his order. “And I thought I told you to stop calling me that.” you huff, smirking as you set the box in front of him.
“Mm, well, until you tell me your actual name, i’ve got nothing else to call you.” He says, handing you that same sleek black card. “Plus, if he comes in I can't have all your attention on me.”
“I’m wearing a name-tag, Harry.” You roll your eyes. “Bring Ryan in next time. I could use a break from you.” You smirk, handing him his card back.
“Reading your name-tag is different than you telling me your name, love.” He chuckles at you rolling your eyes again. “Ryan stays outside until I hear it come from you.”
“You drive a hard bargain, Harry.” “Must be why I’m so successful. I always get what I want.” He states matter of factly.
“Mm, and is that all you want?” You muse, raising a brow at him.
“On the contrary. There’s a plethora of things I want, but we can start with your name.” He smiles warmly at you.
Your breath hitches at his words. “It's Y/N.” You breathe out, his grin grows ten times in size.
“It’s lovely to officially meet you. See you tomorrow, Y/N.” He states, picking up his box and making his way out to Ryan.
“What. The hell. Was that?” Carly muses from her spot at the table. You almost forgot she was here.
“That was Harry. He stops in every day. A right pain in my ass.” You say, plopping down in your chair.
“That didn’t seem like he’s a pain in your ass.” She starts, “Could cut that sexual tension with a knife!” she squeals. “Who is he?!”
“I have no idea. I quite literally ran into him a few weeks ago, and he’s been coming in here every day ever since. He’s a massive flirt as well. But I’m not interested.”
“It didn’t quite seem like you weren’t interested. You were hanging on every word he was saying.” “I was wishing he would leave.”
“Whatever you say, Y/N. He’s into you. I can tell.” “Maybe so, but I'm seriously not interested. I’m good with being by myself for now. It’s barely been three months, Carls.” “I know. You’ll make that jump when you’re ready.” I’ll never be ready. “Where did you say you met him? He looks so familiar.”
“Uh, I actually met him for the first time at the stadium. After all that happened with Jackson.”
“Does he work there?” 
“No idea, babe. I ran into him right near the parking lot. I don’t even know if he was coming or going.”
“And then he just showed up here the next day? Kinda weird.”
“I agree. It could just be a coincidence. My business does have a pretty good reputation.. If I do say so myself. but it makes my brain hurt trying to think about it.”
“Agreed. But be careful. I still don’t like that you’re here alone all day.”
“Ah, but Jesse is returning from school in a few days so I will have my help back.”
“Oh good! I liked him.” She stated, standing from her seat. “Well babe, I have got to get back to the office. I have a few articles to finish and send off before the end of the day. Same time tomorrow?”
“Of course. See you tomorrow. Love you long time!”
“Love you more!” She says, making her way to the exit.
Tumblr media
About another week had passed, and it’d been the same old same old. Jesse, your seasonal help, returned from school for summer break a few days ago so you haven’t been as lonely throughout the day. He was thrilled when he found out that you and Jackson were no longer a couple. 
“Good, there are so many other better players out there that you could shack up with.”
“Jesse! Stop it right now.” You exclaimed, unable to contain your laughter. “Don’t make me mess up this cake.”
“I’m serious, Y/N! There are so many quarterbacks out there that don’t get sacked 12 times in a game. Or we could branch out to other positions on the team. What about a tight end? Or a linebacker if you like them bigger.”
“Oh my god, Jesse!” You cackle. “I don’t need you to play football match maker for me. I’m done with all of that.” You chuckle, setting your bag of icing down on the counter.
The doorbell chimes, breaking both of you out of your fits of giggles, and Jesse made his way up front.
“Good morning, how can I help you?” You hear Jesse ask.
“Oh, good morning. Is Y/N here?” That voice only belongs to one person. He’s early.
“Yeah, she’s actually finishing up an order. I’ll let her know you’re here. What’s your name?”
“Harry.’
“Got it man, be right back.” He says before disappearing around the corner where you stood. “Hey, there’s a guy named Harry out here for you?”
“Oh. Yeah, give me just a minute. Or you know what, can you finish this? Just needs a leaf here and here, and then it goes in its box in the cooler.”
“You trust me to finish a cake?” His eyes widened.
“It’s a few leaves, Jesse, not a rose. Just don’t fuck it up, and you won’t die. Simple as that, really.”
“Oh yeah, simple.”
“I have faith in you.” You say, rounding the corner. “And how can I help you today, Harry? You’re quite early.”
“Good morning to you too, Love.” “Harry, I’ve told you to stop calling me that. You know my name now,”
“I know, but I enjoy watching the lightning spark in your eyes when I call you Love.” He smirks at you.
Your cheeks flash a light pink. “What can I do for you today, Harry?” You mutter out.
“I’ll take one dozen of the red velvet.”
“Ooh, big spender. You’re gonna clear me out of my red velvet for the day. Do you and Ryan have a big sweet tooth today?” You joke, placing the cupcakes into their respective box.
“Not quite, I have a meeting and I promised a treat from this bakery I discovered a few weeks ago. Haven’t shut up about it. I never shut up about the owner either. She’s awfully pretty.”
“You’ve gotten quite bold, Harry.” You muse, sliding his order across the counter. 
The doorbell dings again, pulling your attention from the man in front of you.
“Good morning, Mr. Henry, Rocco. I’ll be with you in just a minute.” As the words were leaving your mouth, Jesse emerged from the back room.
“I can take you over here, Mr. Henry.” Jesse claims, leading him to the other side of the case. Before following him, Mr. Henry sets a coffee cup down on your counter,
“Here you are, dear. Thought you could use that today.” Mr. Henry smiles at you.
“Thank you, Mr. Henry. You don’t have to keep doing that.” You scold.
“I can do whatever I want, thank you.” He smiles, taking his stand down with Jesse
Turning your attention back to Harry, you give him his total.
“That doesn't sound right. Shouldn’t it be more?” He questions.
“Mm, nope. I give a discount when you buy twelve at a time.” You say, handing him his card back. “Is there anything else I can do for you today, Harry?”
“I can think of a few things, but we have an audience. Naughty girl.” His words make you go red in the face, nevermind the pink tinge from before.
“You are insufferable. Have a great meeting.” You say, stepping away from the counter.
“See you tomorrow, Love.” He says before promptly heading outside.
You don't even realize you're smiling.
“Well now I have got just about a million questions.” Jesse’s voice startles you on your left.
“I second that,” Mr. Henry says. “Now what is it you kids say these days? Oh right. Spill.”
“Yeah, what he said. Spill, Y/N.” Jesse said, backing up the elderly man.
“Both of you are terrible. There’s nothing to spill.” You say, turning to wipe off the counter.
“You’re a terrible liar.” Jesse says.
“I know you might not be able to tell, but I was not born yesterday, dear. I know something when I see it. Now just who was he?” Mr. Henry quips out.
You chuckle. “I promise, he’s nobody. He’s been coming in here every day. He’s got a little crush on me, I will admit that, but I’m not looking for anything right now. Jackson still has me all messed up in the head.”
“Okay, but they say the fastest way to get over a guy is to get under a new one!” Jesse exclaims, “You never know what you’re miss- OKAY OW.” He says when you snap him with a towel.
“Now, I wouldn't listen to Mr. Horn dog over here, but maybe someone new is what you need, dear.”
“I hear you, Mr. Henry, I’m just not ready for that just yet. I appreciate both of your concerns though. Have a great day, Mr. Henry. Rocco.” You say with a smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes. “Jesse, I’m going to step out for a minute. I’ll be right back.” You disappear up the staircase to your apartment.
“Maybe we overstepped.” Jesse says to Mr. Henry.
“Perhaps, but maybe she needs someone to push her to that step.”
“I think I’ll take a step back from that. I don’t want to lose my job. She’ll get back out there when she’s ready.”
“I suppose you’re right. Have a good day, Jesse. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Have a good one, Mr. Henry.”
Mr. Henry and Rocco make their way outside, settling on a bench right down the street from your shop.
“Mr. Henry, was it?”
“Who’s asking?” He responds, looking up at the person in question.
“Names Harry. Harry Styles. I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions.” Harry asks, extending his hand.
“Mm, is this about the owner of that bakery down there?” Mr. Henry inquires.
“Would it be a problem if it was?”
Mr. Henry laughs, and takes Harry’s hand in his, giving him a firm shake. “What can I do for you, son?
Tumblr media
thank you for reading! please like &/or reblog if you enjoyed <3
taglist: @stylesfever @olipoli21 @hermionelove @st-ev-ie
249 notes · View notes
wildflowerluver · 1 year
Text
sweet pea
aaron hotchner x teen!reader, bau team x teen!reader
5 times the team hears about you and the 1 time they actually meet you
cw: fem reader, set over the span of three years, case mentions, broken family unit, hotchner trio, hotch is a swiftie, also refers to his daughter as ‘sweet pea’, team is nosy, eating/food, forehead kisses run the hotchner home
wc: 3.4k
༺♡༻
1. inception
child cases are always rough.
they’re not only extremely sensitive, but they hit emotionally for everyone involved. 
it’s a small town and yet no strong leads. there’s no reason for the case to be as difficult as it is, but every case the team looks into is different.
local p.d. bring in a woman named chancy solace. she was the last one to see the missing boy alive and no one wants to wait around for another death to happen to look for evidence.
hotch was set to do the interview.
he asked basic questions about the missing boy, keeping his voice calm as she recounted her day through tears. they all knew she was innocent, no doubts about it. he was set to finish up after a few moments. it was clear she didn’t know much.
as he went to stand, however, solace had stopped him.
“do you have children, agent hotchner?” her voice was broken.
hotch nods. “i do.”
“how old?”
“my son is 3 and my daughter is 13.”
the air outside the room went stale. everyone on the team knew jack. some had even met him within his first few weeks of life. he was three, that was a fact - but a daughter? not once had hotch mentioned one, let alone one with such a large age gap. jack never rattled about a big sister either.
solace frowned, more tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. “then you must understand the guilt i’m feeling right now. can you imagine if you were the last one to see your daughter before she disappeared? how can i possibly have it in me to be a part of this?”
hotch doesn’t want to think about the question she posed, not at all.
“we’re going to find him. it’s going to be alright,” it was a promise, one hotch intended not to break.
he left the room after that. their only known witness wasn’t much help for the case and there was no point in wasting time.
rossi stops hotch before he can walk away.
“why’d you lie?”
there’s no question on what rossi is asking about. it’s profiling 101 that lying to a suspect, no matter innocent or not, could be dangerous.
hotch glanced at his team.
“i didn’t.”
2. first encounter
you’ve had a really, really, really bad day.
from the second you woke up, everything seemed to go wrong. school wasn’t any better and by the end of the day, the only thing you wanted to do was see your dad. he’s your favorite person and a hug from him always reassures you that things will be okay.
you text him before your last class of the day to ask when he’ll be home. if it’s even possible, a deeper frown appears on his face when he tells you no later than six. 
part of you wants to be happy from that response. no later than six means there’s no cases and he’s on top of his files. but after the day you had, you just need someone and waiting nearly four hours for him to get home is less than ideal. 
can i come to the bau?
your text is a shot in the dark. your dad keeps you out of his profession and you’ve never stepped foot in quantico. you just hope he gets some sort of semblance for what's going on if you're asking to come see him.
he responds back seconds later. ‘i’ll send an agent.’
it’s not that he doesn’t trust you to get there on your own, there’s even a direct line from the train station closest to your school, but you're still young, only 14, and you know he would feel more comfortable having an agent pick you up.
the next time you check your phone, your dad has sent a message with the name of the agent and instructions on how to prove that it’s him. it’s not him being overprotective, it’s him wanting you to be safe. 
agent anderson is easy enough to spot. you run through the procedures your dad wanted and once you know it’s the right person, you get in the car.
he doesn’t say anything when you shove your earbuds in your ears and shuffle your playlist and you’re thankful for that. you’re especially grateful that he doesn’t ask questions when you bite your lip and swipe away stray tears that have fallen down your face.
music is an outlet for you, an escape, and right now that’s all you wanted to do. 
earbuds remain in your ears as you step into the bau building. anderson leads you through security and gets you a visitors badge. you very faintly hear any of his verbal instructions.
he leaves you once you reach the right floor, pointing through the glass doors to show you where to go. with a smile, he’s gone.
you weigh your options for a moment before walking in. you told your dad you're here but you don’t know where his office is. and right now, you really do not want to deal with anyone else. but with a deep breath, you decide to take your chances and head in.
a child walking into the bau is an automatic red flag, let alone one with puffy eyes and red cheeks, a clear sign of crying.
morgan and j.j. are the first two to stand up, wasting no time in circling their desks to walk to where you stand at the bullpen entrance; j.j.’s mouth already open with an “are you alright?” on the tip of her tongue.
but before they reach you, and before j.j. can speak, hotch is out of his office and moving down the stairs.
he steps in front of them when he faces you, thus shielding you from the prying eyes of the team. you look up at your dad, eyes full of a new wave of tears.
hotch doesn’t hug you then, though he desperately wants to, nor does he explain who you are to the team. instead, he places a strong hand on your shoulder, turning you slightly before guiding you up to his office. the door is shut and the blinds are closed. the two of you are cut off from the others and all of them know not to intrude.
“who was that?” rossi questioned after stepping onto the catwalk. the commotion was noticeable.
“i think we just met y/n.”
3. phone call 
on flights home from cases, what the team does onboard genuinely varies with what time of day it is.
during early morning and late night flights, you can find most of the team asleep, trying to make up for the rest lost in the past few days. anything between that is typically a more active time.
hotch is dealt into a game of poker with the entire team. rossi acts as the dealer claiming he’s “not in the mood to get outsmarted at his favorite game.”
the entire group is laughing and chatting among themselves as they play. there’s no reason not to, it was a successful case - worth the positive mood on the jet.
hotch’s phone ringing cuts through emily’s turn.
he holds his hands up in defense and mumbles a quiet apology.
“hi sweet pea,” hotch barely has time to greet you before he gets cut off with your frantic “did you listen?”
his laugh causes the others to bring their heads up from their cards. a hotch laugh is uncommon, rare.
“i did. we finished up here last night so i listened before i went to bed and finished when i woke up,” he answers your question. 
he waits for your response, already knowing that you want to know his thoughts on the album.
“well,” hotch pauses. “if i’m being honest, i liked it more than fearless.”
j.j. and emily are the only two who have any idea what he’s talking about. a record could be set for how fast their eyes snap to each other once it clicks.
hotch is quiet for a few moments. though no one can make out exactly what you’re saying on the other end, they can hear your muffled rambling.
“yeah yeah, i liked that one too,” hotch agrees. “i think my top two are dear john and haunted, though. her songwriting is incredible in those.”
whatever he means clearly pleases you judging by the content look on his face.
“alright i have to get going,” he starts. “but i have the vinyl reserved at the record store. we can go when i get back? should be home by two.”
you agree without hesitation, several “thank you’s” being repeated. hotch won’t admit it ever to anyone besides you, but he’s excited to hear it on vinyl too. it’s kinda your shared thing.
“i’ll see you when i get home, okay? i love you.”
he hangs up after goodbyes, placing his phone back onto the table before picking up his cards. the silence lingers in the air even after he makes the motion that he’s ready to continue. “what?”
“you listen to taylor swift?”
hotch smiles, a genuine one. “my daughter loves her. have to keep up somehow.”
4. vacation 
when hotch doesn’t show up to work for a week, it takes only the first day for the team to panic. it had been a little over a year and a half since foyet had stabbed hotch and hotch had gone missing. no one was going to take chances when their boss, who typically had perfect attendance, showed up without notice.
rossi and morgan went to strauss at the end of the day. 
their interrogation on hotch’s whereabouts is in good faith, but it doesn’t take a profiler to notice strauss’ sigh at their concerns.
“agent hotchner is on vacation,” she starts. “he should be back next week. until then, i am under orders to not assign a new case unless necessary.”
the agents turn to each other in confusion as they leave. “a vacation? come on rossi, when in all the years of knowing him has hotch ever willingly gone on vacation.”
the older man shrugs. “i don’t know. maybe this’ll be good for him.”
there’s no arguing with that.
when hotch returns the following monday, no one hesitates to notice the change in his physical appearance.
his skin is tanned and he has a slight tinge of sunburn on his nose and cheekbones; a clear sign he went somewhere warm.
“hotch!” emily catches him before he can retreat to his office.
all eyes are on him and he knows it. 
“where were you?” she inquired. 
hotch sighs. “greece.” 
this catches the attention of the other team members in the bullpen. rossi seems to have found an empty chair at j.j.’s desk. even garcia had chosen this exact moment to get a new cup of coffee.
“greece?” emily stutters. “like the european country?”
hotch nods. “that’s the one.” 
morgan whistles. vacations in the bau are fairly uncommon. the looming threat of being called back for a case stops most from planning. even if the timing does work out, no one goes far; let alone out of the country. 
“and you just decided to go there for a casual vacation,” j.j.’s tone isn’t condescending, but rather showing genuine curiosity.
“it’s y/n’s birthday in a few months and she’s always wanted to go,” hotch explains like it’s the most casual thing in the world. “jack’s still a little too young so he stayed with jessica.”
he doesn’t mingle around after that, choosing to head up to his office to get set up after his week away.
“huh,” garcia murmurs. “didn’t take him for a greek island guy.”
“guess that shows just how much he’s wrapped around y/n’s finger.”
5. baked goods
you don’t have school today.
despite that, you still get up early to have breakfast with your brother and dad. once jack is picked up by the bus for school, your dad gets ready for work.
you stay in the kitchen, however, moving the cookies you made last night from one container to the other.
when your dad reappears, you wait for his hands to be empty before posing your question.
“is there any way you can give these to agent rossi?” you practically shove the container into your dad’s hand.
aaron raises an eyebrow. “rossi?”
“you mentioned he was italian,” you wait for a nod of confirmation. “these are canestrelli, they’re an italian cookie. i wanted to know if you could give these to him for a taste test.”
he smiles. “trying to expand your baking horizons?”
you match his expression. “exactly.”
with a kiss to your forehead, your dad is out the door and off to work.
“delivery,” hotch’s tone is steady as he knocks on rossi’s office door.
“from who?”
“y/n,” hotch answers as he sets the container down. “she tried to make canestrelli and wanted your opinion. i’m just the messenger.”
rossi takes the container from hotch. he opens it up before plucking a cookie out and examining it. “looks authentic.” 
if he’s being honest, even if the cookie isn’t good, he’ll still love it.
but it isn’t.
of course it isn’t.
rossi takes one bite and his eyes widen.
“i haven’t had canestrelli this good since the last time i went to italy. tell her she should be very proud and i will be happy to pay for more.”
hotch can’t hide his proud expression. “i will.”
+1 first meeting
you always wait for your dad to get home from work. it’s routine.
plus, you made a promise to jack when you put him to bed that you would send your dad upstairs when he got home.
you bake in the meantime. it’s something to pass the time and you figure having something fresh to eat would be a nice surprise for your dad.
music plays from the record you have spinning. you keep it quiet as to not wake jack up upstairs. he’s not a light sleeper, but you don’t want to disturb his rest.
the side door opens as you're mixing the flour to the batter. tonight’s bake is gingerbread. easy enough to make. 
it surprises you when your dad doesn’t call out a hello. he’s come home this late before when you’re still up and he always makes it a point to greet you. plus, you have music playing. there’s no doubt he can’t hear that.
“dad?” your voice is quiet.
you peer around the corner, stepping out a bit further when you see him, though you freeze when you notice the other people following him. 
“hi sweet pea,” his voice is tired, you can tell. you close your eyes when he hugs you and kisses your forehead. if his team is here you know it’s not good.
“what’s going on?”
he turns to you. “i can explain in a few minutes. are you okay for introductions?” his voice lowers for the last part, not wanting the team to hear if you say no.
you nod, though anxiety bubbles at the pit of your stomach at the deflection of the question.
“everyone, this is y/n, my daughter,” your dad starts. unsure what to do, you wave slightly. “y/n, this is my team, that’s dave, derek, emily, spencer, j.j., and penelope.” he points to each of the people as he rattles his name off.
while your dad kept you out of his work, you did faintly know each member of the team. he talked about them in passing and jack rambled often about something “uncle dave” or “uncle derek” did.
“why are they here?” you hope your question doesn’t come off as rude.
your dad squeezes your arm. “can you go back in the kitchen for a few? i’m going to get these guys set up and then i can explain. is jack asleep?”
you nod. “i put him to bed a few hours ago. he was asking for you.”
“thank you,” he starts. “i’ll go see him in a bit.”
the conversation is over. you feel awkward standing in the foyer where you’re clearly the center of attention. you turn and walk into the kitchen. finishing your baking seems like a good idea.
aaron enters the kitchen as you’re pouring the batter into the pans. the music is off by now, though the record stays on the turntable. he waits for you to put the pan in the oven and face him before explaining.
“there’s a mole in the bau. we’re trying to figure it out but we obviously can’t work there. i volunteered our house. we would’ve gone to dave’s but he’s having work done.” you know he’s giving you the most minimal answer possible.
“oh,” you’re honestly not quite sure what else to say.
he continues. “we’re hoping to have it cleared up soon but we don’t have a lot of our normal equipment. i wasn’t expecting you to be up for all this. couldn’t sleep?”
“was waiting for you to get home,” you shrugged. “you know i always do.” 
“yeah i know. i should’ve called.”
you turn to him. “It’s alright. i’m just going to clean up while i wait for the gingerbread to be done and then i’ll go to bed.” 
your dad nods. “let me know when you do.” he disappears out of the kitchen after that.
cleaning up doesn’t take long and you’re still elbows deep in soapy water when the oven beeps. you take it out of the pan and set it on a cooling rack before gathering your stuff. you’re honestly exhausted.
going into the living room takes a moment of mental courage. you know everyone is in there and you don’t want to interrupt them. but, you’ve missed your dad and you want him to say goodnight.
“um, i’m going to head up to bed,” your voice echoes through the room. it was fairly quiet before and you feel embarrassed for interrupting that. the first part is directed at your dad. you turn to the rest of the team. “i made fresh gingerbread if anyone wants any. it’s on the counter, help yourself. i also put on a fresh pot of coffee and that should be ready soon.”
aaron’s heart is so full that he almost forgets the case at hand.
“i’ll be up in a minute,” aaron voices.
you hum, nodding to the team as a non-verbal goodnight.
he dishes out individual assignments within the team. they’ll work as a group to start before taking shifts so others can rest.
jack’s room is his first stop. he doesn’t wake the boy, choosing to instead kiss his forehead before picking up his stuffed dinosaur, a gift, and placing it back on the bed.
you’re just getting under the covers when your dad knocks.
“come in!”
your dad steps inside, shutting the door slightly.
“hi,” you smile.
“hi,” he echoes. “good day?”
you shrug. “yeah, i guess so. i got jack from school and we spent the afternoon together. missed you though.”
aaron frowns. “i’m sorry sweet pea. didn’t think this was going to happen. none of us did.”
“i know you didn’t. i’m not mad.”
you want to continue your statement and wash away any guilt you know he’s feeling. but, your body betrays you and a yawn cuts you off.
“alright, time for bed,” his words make you feel like a child but you know he’s right.
he tucks you in and like with jack, he kisses your forehead.
“goodnight dad, i love you.”
“i love you too.”
his demeanor changes when he goes downstairs and sits with the team. he’s serious, ready to work. right now this case is his priority. he, like others, wants to wrap it up quickly and efficiently. 
emily nudges him when he sits down beside her. spencer and derek’s banter about the case is long drowned out.
“she’s a good kid.”
hotch beams. 
“i know.”
3K notes · View notes
alwayshughes · 8 months
Text
home is with you | luke hughes
summary: in which you're faced with the struggles of single parenting while luke is away on a roadie, seeking comfort from him when he finally returns.
pairing: dad!luke x fem!reader
notes: thank you for the request anon! i took a slightly different approach, i hope you don't mind! <3
*not proofread
Tumblr media
-
you didn't think it was possible to feel this exhausted. so tired that you felt as though you were growing less sane by the day, running off of a high that your husband would be home from his roadie soon. you had craved silence, relishing in any quietness granted to you, any semblance of serenity found amidst your daughters cries.
"we're in public baby, please just hold on for two more seconds!"
despite your pleas the sound of sophie's cries only continued to grow louder, quickly becoming insufferable. your chest tightens as you feel yourself begin to drown in the piercing sound.
it was moments like these, moments where you felt as though you were completely losing yourself, struggling to maintain discipline all the while keeping your two-year old happy, that seemingly proved to become more difficult as the days passed.
you needed him, you needed luke.
faltering smiles, the shaking of heads and looks of disapproval was all to be seen, casted in your direction as sophie's cries only continued to grow louder.
items are carelessly thrown to the side as you fumble around in your bag, searching desperately for her favourite toy; a bear gifted to her by ellen, one that she had kept since birth.
eventually landing on the familiar plush, pink fabric you reach for the bear and hold it out within arms reach for her to grab.
sophie however shakes her head, and a small pout forms on her lips. she bursts into more tears and figuring you had exhausted all other options you give in. reaching towards the shelf you grab the soft, plush toy she had become so enthralled with.
she knew exactly how to get what she wanted.
you watch as her tears begin to subside and a small smile replaces the previous pout which had graced her features as she now held the toy close to her chest. you feel yourself begin to relax as your breaths return back to their slow, rhythmic beats.
it had been weeks of endless tantrums, and it was becoming apparent that parenting alone with a toddler during 'terrible twos', was a much more difficult task than first anticipated.
despite your best effort's and agreeing with luke to make a conscious effort to face time every night, the distance separating the two of you had proved to be too strong.
the minute your facetime calls finished and his face disappeared from the screen before you, sophie was balling her eyes out, the sight causing your heart to shatter. the constant sound of her cries strained your ears so much so that you found solace in any silence, and although you hated to admit it, any moment free from her wailing felt like heaven.
just seven more hours till he would be home.
-
"how's my sweet girl going?"
the sound of sophie's laughter carries throughout the room as she hurriedly waddles over towards your husband. luke drops his bags immediately by the front door in favour of holding her close.
"slow down baby, i don't want you to slip".
his arms wrap around her small frame as he pulls her gently into a warm embrace before slowly rocking her back and forth.
"dadda home!" she yells excitedly, her voice slightly muffled as she buries her face into his chest, clearly wanting nothing more than to be as close as possible to him.
"yeah soph, i'm home", he repeats and a small smile graces his features at the thought.
he was finally home.
you find yourself smiling softly at the sight before you as sophie shifts out of luke's hold. her hands press gently against either sides of his cheeks and she falls into a fit of giggles as luke pokes his tongue out at her, making a silly face. a bright smile graces his features at the sight, clearly savouring the precious sound of her laughter, something he had missed dearly.
sophie puckers her lips, a familiar tell-tale that she wanted a kiss and you watch on in amusement as luke wastes no time, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips.
he was a natural with her and you can't help but feel a small pang of jealousy. how was it that you had spent these last few weeks alone with her, and you still weren't able to calm her down as easily as he could?
"you've been good for momma, yeah?"
she nods her head slowly, almost hesitantly and luke smiles in response. the soft click of the clock striking sounds, serving as a reminder of the time, 11pm, way past sophie's regular bedtime. "you go pick out a book for me to read soph and i'll be right behind you".
the both of you watch as sophie hurriedly rushes to her bedroom door and luke casts a glance towards you. his eyes immediately soften as he takes in your slightly disheveled appearance and you can't help but grow slightly vulnerable.
your eyes were tired, ringed with a crimson red, and the dark bags underneath were a clear tell-tale of all that you had encompassed over the past week. it was obvious to luke that you hadn't had much time to take care of yourself, with all of it being spent on sophie.
suffice to say you were exhausted, in more ways than one. emotionally, physically, mentally. however mental exhaustion far outweighed any other, and you were more than thankful that luke was home and able to finally relieve you of such pressure.
"how are you?"
three simple words yet they held so much power.
his voice comes out soft, laced with guilt as he begins to make his way over towards you, closing the previous distance that had separated the both of you.
letting out an exasperated sigh you respond, however your voice comes out weak, barely audible. "tired".
"yeah?"
you nod your head in response, feeling the familiar sensation of your chest tightening as you attempt to withhold your tears, refraining yourself from breaking down in front of luke. despite your recent struggles, you didn't want to burden him, you were well aware of how guilty, culpable luke already felt about leaving you alone with sophie, and you didn't want to worry him further, you couldn't.
it wouldn't be fair of you to.
he immediately pulls you into his chest and places a gentle kiss to the crown of your head.
you try to pull away however his hold on you only grows stronger as he pulls you back. you can't help but sigh in relief, relishing in the familiar, pungent scent of his cologne as it envelops your body, filling your senses.
he was with you, he was home.
his lips softly brush against your exposed skin as he mumbles into your neck.
"god i'm glad to be home. i missed you so damn much y/n".
your lips naturally curve upwards into a small smile at his words and you close your eyes, savouring the moment before you. one of his hands rested comfortably on your waist while the other was placed in your hair. you missed him, in all his entirety.
pulling away from his hold you place a kiss to his clothed chest. "i'm so glad to have you home".
luke isn't oblivious to the slight crack in your voice and he lifts your chin, urging your gaze to meet his.
"i'm sorry this is the way it has to be".
shaking your head you rest your hands on his shoulders before gently playing with the curls at the nape of his neck. "no need to apologise lu, it's out of your control".
he hums and sends you a soft smile before pressing his lips against yours. the kiss was slow and gentle, laced with a sense of comfort, familiarity. it was everything you needed and more.
you pull lightly on his curls to deepen the kiss and his arms instinctively snake around your waist, pulling you closer, clearly wanting to feel your body against his. he squeezes your sides in reassurance, a sign that everything would be okay.
you clear your throat, "luke i uh-"
the light pad of footsteps sounding is enough to draw luke's attention away from you, his gaze quickly falling to the floor beneath him.
"dadda read?"
sophie sends luke a pleading look as she clings tightly to the side of his legs, waving a picture book in the air in an obvious attempt to grab his attention.
he turns to you, sending you a tight-lipped smile in apology. you shake your head, lightly nudging his body forward, urging him to go read sophie to bed.
"yeah, let's go baby".
-
"well she must've been tired...she's out like a light"
you don't bare to look at luke, simply continuing to scroll through the various messages on your phone that you had yet to respond to. your legs were pressed up against your chest as you held a cup of tea to your mouth, the warmth providing you with a sense of ease and comfort.
the couch sinks next to you, signalling that luke had sat down beside you and he gently takes the mug from your hold, placing it down on the coffee table before you.
without having to say anything he knew exactly what you needed, what you so dearly had craved these last few days.
you just wanted to be held by him.
luke's arms gently snake around your waist and he carefully pulls you back into his chest.
the slow beats of his heart playing against your back helps to soothe you, and you let out a soft sigh in relief as your chest heaves up and down, falling into a steady rhythm.
he was your comfort person.
the two of you bask momentarily, finding comfort in each other's presence. silence was never awkward with luke, it had always been comfortable, and you can't help but feel at peace, finally. it felt as though this was the longest you had gone with the house being completely silent, nothing but the sound of your breaths to be heard.
you were okay. he was home.
"what were you going to say before y/n?"
he stops tracing circles on your thigh as he waits for you to respond, his gaze failing to leave your features.
"how do you do it so easily? you're a natural with her, she loves you."
your words clearly catch luke off guard as his body turns rigid beneath yours, tensing. he places a kiss to the crown of your head before running his hands soothingly up and down your arms, urging you to elaborate.
"i feel like i'm losing my mind luke. she's my own daughter and i can't seem to calm her down, ever."
luke rests his chin atop your head. "you've been with her almost every hour of the day lately baby, that's bound to take a toll on you. i've only been seeing her during her best times recently, it's easier for me to be more patient with her."
you sigh. "that's even more of a reason for me to be able to calm her down luke. honestly it feels like half the time she hates me".
his hands stop rubbing up and down your arms as he mulls over your words. his whole demeanour shifts and a more serious look graces his features.
how long had you been feeling like this?
your voice softens, coming out barely louder than a whisper. "am i really the bad guy here luke?"
you feel him shake his head above you and his hand moves to play with the string of your pj shorts. "no one's expecting you to be perfect all the time baby. besides if we mess up with soph, we've always got the next ones to get it just right hey?"
you playfully swat him on the shoulder, "i'm being serious lu".
the chorus of his laughter is enough for you to crack a small smile. "and i am too! we're learning, just as much as she is. stop putting so much pressure on yourself, please."
silence quickly consumes the both of you as you find yourself mulling over luke's words. however you quickly find yourself becoming subject to your own worries once more, and the familiar wave of anxiety rolls over your body.
"i hate seeing her cry. that's all she seems to do when she's with me".
"you and i both know that's not true y/n".
he stops playing with your pj shorts and instead interlaces his fingers with yours. he adjusts his positioning on the lounge, moving your body closer to his before his lips graze over your ear as he whispers softly.
"let me run you a bath, baby".
you shake your head as you remove yourself from luke's hold and begin to stand from the couch.
"i need to go check in on soph, sometimes she wakes up just after dozing off and plays with her teddy, the one ellen bought her, only to fall asleep in the early hours of the morning and then she's exhausted the next day i--".
luke is quick to grab your waist, halting your movements as he prevents you from leaving.
"y/n".
you turn to face him. his eyes were wide, laced with worry.
"you stay here and relax, i'll go check on her".
tiredness was etched all over his features, his eyes half-open and dark bags a clear tell-tale that he hadn't managed to sleep much on the flight home.
"you just flew in luke. you must be tired."
luke gently caresses your cheek in an attempt to provide you with a semblance of both comfort and reassurance.
he shakes your head and sends you a small smile, "you just took care of our baby girl by yourself for awhile. you must be tired."
a small smirk begins to take over your features as you shake your head at him. "you're so stubborn".
he stifles a small laugh. "and you love me for it. now i'm going to go check in on soph, and then i'll run you a bath, how does that sound?"
"amazing."
"i love you baby, and she loves you too. thank you for looking after her."
you nod your head against his palm before pressing a gentle kiss to the back of his hand.
when did you get so lucky?
623 notes · View notes
sunfyresrider · 10 months
Text
˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐡 | Aegon T.
Tumblr media
✧Summary: Ever since you were a child you found solace in the faith. As you grew so did your devotion to the gods. You were hellbent on becoming a septa and remaining pure. Until one cursed night you stumble upon a scene that tests your faith and continues to do so until you reach your breaking point. ✧Tags: religious themes, religious guilt, Aegon issss, well, a whore, targcest, wet dreams, some spicy church smut. ✧Author’s Note: Anon, my love, your request was very long so I didn’t put it in the post itself. I hope you find this and enjoy it<3 ps I did not edit the smut scene bc i got embarassed
You had always been a good girl, your mother’s favorite. You were hopelessly devoted to the gods and worshiped them as you were supposed to. You did not sin, unless it was necessary, and it rarely was. You did what your mother said no questions asked. You attended septa lessons and the sept frequently, as those were the only things that mattered to you. 
The clothes you wore were never flashy, you seldom wore jewelry. Sometimes you paired them with a hair net or cowl to conceal your hair, as was expected of women of the faith. You did not flaunt your body, nor did you flaunt yourself. You followed the rules and found solace in them. 
Unlike your sweet sister who would in time be wed, have children and live out her life as somebody’s wife, you were hell bent on becoming a septa. What better way to prove your devotion than becoming a servant of the faith?  Your siblings were not the same, the Targaryens in general were not the same. 
They all sinned needlessly, whether it be incest or premarital bedding they all did it and assumed themselves to be exempt from the gods punishments. You knew better, of course, as was expected of a servant of the gods. However, tonight was much different than the rest. 
You should have been in bed by this hour. If your mother found, you she would surely chastise you. But Merexes, your cat, had escaped and you could not sleep without her. You delicately creeped around the keep, avoiding any guards stationed outside during the nighttime. Though half of them looked as if they were asleep standing up, it was better to be cautious. 
“Mer,” you whispered loudly. “Here kitty kitty, it’s time for bed.” your voice faintly echoed throughout the corridor. You heard some noises coming from the eastern part of Maegor’s holdfast. Perhaps Helaena had stolen her away in the night and failed to tell you. 
You didn’t like this part, the area where your eldest brother slept. It was dark and dingy, his guard Ser Arryk was almost always sent away so Aegon could do whatever he pleased. What he did you did not know, but you were sure it was against the faith. There were only a few candles in this corridor, making the darkened stone walls appear far scarier than they should be. 
“Meraxes, where are you, my love?” Your voice was shaky, more nervous than previously. A small gush of wind made an eerie noise causing you to jump. You really did not like this place at night. “Here kitty kitty,” you tried again in a louder whisper. The breeze chilled your shoulder, causing you to wrap your shawl around tighter. It was foolish to leave your room in your night clothes too, your mother would not approve. 
At the end of the hallway there was a faint light flickering, in the shadow it casted you could see a tail gently swaying accompanied by mewling. Your entire mood shifted as you raced towards her, calling out her name quietly. You lost focus of your surroundings as you swiftly lifted her into your arms before she could resist. You squeezed her gently, placing kisses on her head.
But your focus was pulled away, the sound of mewling did not stop and it was not coming from your cat. You turned on your heels, peeking around the corner. The thing you saw was beyond sinful, a direct violation of every commandment the gods had. The eldest of your siblings, Aegon, had a woman wrapped around her waist. He was thrusting into her, in the bare at that. For a moment you were too stunned to move, your feet firmly planted into the floor. Your eyes were nearly popping out of your head, a crimson blush covering your exposed skin. 
It felt as if the room was on fire, a swirling sensation beginning to form in your gut. You were sure your mouth hung agape; you had never ever seen anything so vulgar in your life before… As if sensing they were being watched the girl whipped her head over to see you, she let out a scream signaling you were there.
It immediately snapped you out of your daze, you sprinted towards your bedroom refusing to look back. Meraxes bouncing in your arms as you dodged through your door, slamming it shut behind you. You paced around your room, panting whilst trying to catch your breath. Aemond always said he was the definition of sin, and you should have listened. You should had stayed in your chambers; you should had left before you witnessed anything. 
You shook your head, trying to banish the vile images from your mind. You felt dirty, even though you had not gone near mud. You forced yourself into the bed, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to forget everything you had seen. It was nearly impossible, especially with this unknown desire that now plagued you. 
There was a warm sensation in between your legs. The feeling of something wet lapping at an area you never dared touch.Your core felt as if it was tingling, causing your body to squeeze around something. You lowered your hand, grabbing at the hair of whoever’s head was down there. The appendage moved in circles around you, eliciting sensations you had never felt prior. His hands moved to cup at your breasts, squeezing your nipples to pull soft moans out of you. You lazily opened your eyes, looking down to see who was bringing you such pleasure….. “Aegon?” 
You jumped awake, scanning your room for any intruders. You lifted your night dress to see if anything had happened, yet you found nothing but wet bed sheets. Your core ached for something you did not know… And you felt dirty once more. Incest was one of the greatest sins, accompanied by whatever else you had done in your dreams.
You had the maids fetch you a bath as soon as you woke, scrubbing ceaselessly at your skin to wash away the sin you didn’t want. By the time you had finished your skin was reddened and raw. Still, the feeling of uncleanliness did not leave you. The throbbing between your thighs refused to leave. 
You were meant to attend septa lessons today and walk around the gardens with Helaena to search for bugs, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave your room. Instead, you attempted to find solace in the book of the seven. As you read you kept your legs crossed, it was the only way you had found to cease the ache a little. 
There was nothing in the book you could find that explained your new feelings. However, it is said that prostitution and promiscuity is against the faith and outlawed. You knew about the women who bed men before marriage, but promiscuity was a large word you hadn’t heard the definition before. In general, bedding was actually seen as bad but was ignored since you needed it to have children. 
If you were being completely honest with yourself, you were never taught what bedding was. You knew a man laid with a woman, but the details were not given to you. Since you were adamant on becoming a septa, those lessons were never extended to you… 
You could only presume what your brother was doing was bedding… 
You gave up on the religious scripture, though it said many things most of them you couldn’t understand. What you knew in your heart was the thoughts in your mind were sinful, the thing you saw last night was sinful. And if you kept going on like this you would burn in the seven hells. 
But you are young, and curiosity got the best of you.  Which is why you sought out your elder sister, she’s the smartest and least judgmental. If anyone in this realm had the answers you sought after it would be her. So, you forced yourself out of your chambers and into the gardens with her. 
It had just rained the other day, which meant many new sorts of creatures crawled out of the dirt. Underneath the neatly trimmed shrubbery was an array of different worms, in the flower beds there were many beetles and a few flying insects who buzzed constantly. 
Foraging for insects was not something you necessarily enjoyed, but it would get her in high spirits before you used her as a living dictionary. You made your way to the gods wood, a favorite destination of hers. Every time you went you laid in the same position, your head on her lap and her leaned against the tree half asleep. 
“Sister, if I may, can I ask a question?” She nodded silently, stroking your hair between her fingers. “You must swear you won’t get angry.” Helaena let out a soft hmm, enjoying basking in the sun. “What exactly does bedding entail?” Her eyes opened, a bit of surprise lacing her features. “I should have guessed mother never told you... Basically a man puts his penis inside a woman’s body until his seed spills and hopefully a babe will come from it.” 
It was now your turn to look surprised, you opened your mouth to say that was all you needed but she continued. “That’s for producing an heir. If a man lays with a woman for pleasure, they do all sorts of things. A man may put his penis in her mouth, she may sit on his face and have him lick her, sometimes they touch themselves together… That’s what Aegon does when he disappears at night.” 
Now you knew too much and regretted asking. “I believe all of these are sins in your religion so, you don’t have to worry about it. Why do you ask?” You were now flustered, and unspeakably embarrassed. However, speaking to Helaena of such things would probably bring more comfort than confessing to the Septon.., “I saw Aegon coupling last night, in the hallway.” 
She let out a groan, sitting up from her place in the grass. “You know, I can’t count the amount of times Aemond and I have caught him. We specifically said to keep his doings away from you since you so badly yearn to become a septa… I’m sorry you had to witness that.” 
The worst part of it all was that you didn’t regret it. You did in a way, you wished your eyes and mind had remained as pure as they were prior. However, you did not dislike the scene entirely. There was some sick and twisted part of you that wished it was you, that was enraged it was someone else. 
Fool, you chastised yourself. You are breaking three commandments in a single day. Desires of the flesh, jealously, and worst of all incest. The guilt was overwhelming but the burning desire to know more was just as strong. 
You would pray for the gods mercy tonight and every other night until this was gone.
Your mother forced you to attend supper this night. She had been worried you hid yourself away and refused you let you stay that way… She didn’t know you were protecting yourself from unlawful images! The vast table was almost always empty, usually only Aemond, Helaena, you and your mother attended them. You were thankful this was one of the things your brother strayed away from. You don’t think you could look him in the eye after last night.
However, the gods were testing you today just as they did last. In the midst of dining, whilst Helaena was telling you about the butterfly she saw today, he came strolling in. Aegon looked as he usually did, unclean. Though he had a lazy smirk plastered on his face as he took a seat at the table. 
“Sister,” he nodded towards you, a sickly sweet greeting. Your body tensed, a sheen of blush coating your face. The monster had come to pull you into the depths of his depravity and you would not do it. “Nice of you to join us, Aegon.” Your mother gritted through her teeth. “Pray tell, what made you decide to show up today?” 
“Aemond,” your mother attempted to chastise him. He sank back in his chair signaling one of the servants to fill his glass. “I just wished to see my family.” He glanced at you knowingly, you immediately turned your focus to the food in front of you. Your eyes occasionally met and each time they felt as if they scorched your soul. 
“Hmm,” was all Aemond managed to say before he went back to eating. Your grandsire waved a hand so the bard would start playing, anything was better than the silence that shrouded family meals. Supper was no longer appetizing, you simply picked away at your food with the fork. 
The bard began to play a familiar tune, one that many dance to. You closed your eyes and hummed along, ignoring anyone else in the room. For a moment it was peaceful and there were no thoughts plaguing you. Until you felt two fingers tap at your shoulder drawing you out of your daze, “May I have this dance?”
The gods were surely testing your devotion, you fumbled your words, unable to come up with a suitable excuse. “Oh my, how surprising! Sweetie, go dance with your brother.” Your mother nudged you forward, so unaware of the games her own flesh played.
You begrudgingly took his hand, his warmth radiating through you. His grip was firm yet gentle, his hands soft yet taut. Aegon led you to the center of the room, positioning his hand around your waist. The sensation sent shivers down your spine, images of where his hands were last night flooding your brain. 
“You seem flustered today, any particular reason?” He spun you around, speaking lowly so no one else could hear. Somehow you managed to find your voice, “I haven't a clue what you’re saying.” Aegon chuckled, his grip on your squeezing harder than before. Hands traveling lower than what was deemed proper. “Someone as righteous as you shouldn’t be lying.” You dared to look him in his eyes, feeling the room starting to spin around you. Your entire body felt flushed, as if a dragon had shrouded you in their flames.
“I-I don’t lie,” your gaze fell to his feet on the floor. Aegon leaned in close so his hair brushed against your ear. He whispered, “So, if I ask you where you were last night, you’ll tell me the truth?” You looked at him and he looked at you, with that same smirk. You didn’t need to respond; you both knew what you saw. “Did you dream about me too? I swore I heard you calling my name from inside your chambers.”
Your head was spinning, the room going black for a moment. You could hear people talking, you could hear the bard playing, but it was muffled as if you were underwater. You felt your knees become weak, the heat rising to your cheeks. If it wasn’t for Aegon’s grip you surely would have fallen to the floor out of sheer embarrassment. “What a shame it would be if mother found out, you, her perfect septa lusted for your brother.” 
It was as if someone was twisting your insides and trying to break your faith. He was teasing you, simply trying to pull you down to his own depths of depravity. You were not like him, you were not vulgar or licentious. You were better than he was and yet you felt as if you could melt into his touch. His words boiling inside you like a wildfire that reached your core. “M-may the gods have mercy on you, brother.” 
Aegon hummed, his fingers digging into your hips. You closed your eyes and prayed to the gods that your cheeks weren't as red as they felt. Aegon kept dancing, seemingly unfazed by his teasing. The shame you felt was indescribable, there were not enough soaps in the world to cleanse you now.
Once the song came to an end Aegon stopped, slowly bringing you closer to him. He was staring into your eyes, a fire burning inside them. His lips pressed against your forehead, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. "I’ll keep this our secret, little septa.” He backed away from you, beckoning goodnight to everyone else. As soon as he left, you took a deep breath. You tried to calm yourself, feeling as if you were standing on a raft in a river while being pulled apart by two separate streams.
A gentle hand touched your shoulder, “don’t let him get to you. He revels in other people's misery.” Helaena stared at him while he left, eyes narrowed in his direction. “Will you take me to bed, please? I don’t feel hungry anymore…” She nodded, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.
Tumblr media
The past several nights you were plagued with dreams of sin. If Aegon’s head was not between your legs, then he was inside of you. If he was not on top of you, he was beside you touching you and whispering sweet nothings into your ear. Each night you awoke to a wet bed, sweat on your skin and each morning you took a bath and tried to scrub away the night before. 
It had gotten to the point you started to question the gods. Was this all a test to your devotion? If these feelings were so strong, was it truly sin after all? Yes, you reminded yourself, this was all terrible. Aegon was the living embodiment of everything the gods were against, a whore, a drunk, and everything else you could think of. Maybe that was why you were drawn to him; he was nothing like you. 
You wanted to be better than him, you wanted to be better than anyone. Yet, you felt weak in his presence, you felt your mind start to spin each time he talked to you. If you could not escape him, maybe you could change him.   You were sure that if Aegon was yours then the gods would forgive your sins, they would understand your passion and dedication. You had to believe that they would, after all, they were the ones who gave you this strength in the first place.
The sept was your very first destination of the day, the place where you would beg for forgiveness and for the gods to ease this burning inside of you. You lit a candle in front of you, lowering yourself to your knees and lacing your hands together. 
You took a deep breath, “I come before you to pray for forgiveness and to beg for help. For I have fallen victim to this burning desire within me… You know I am much purer than the depraved crowd. You know I do not feel jealousy nor hatred for any of your other children… And yet when I see my brother all I can feel is desire, when he speaks with another woman I am filled with hate. I do not understand why I am not strong enough to fight this… So, I beg you, let him feel the fires of the seven hells and free me from this torment. Or give him to me and me alone and let me change him.” 
You bowed your head, shutting your eyes and waiting for the gods to grant you a sign. For a moment, there was silence. You opened your eyes and stared at the candle in front of you, watching the flame flicker. Then you heard footsteps, “I should have assumed you would be here.” Aegon stalked forward, glancing at the statues around you. “Pray tell, why are you here?” 
You felt your heart begin to pound, each beat like a hammer to the side of your ribs. Aegon crossed his arms, “I come here… sometimes.” His gaze fell on you, you couldn't stand being under his scrutiny. 
“Since you’ve come so far, kneel with me brother,” you reached a hand out waiting for him to take it. Aegon stood there unsure, religion was never his forte. Still he took your hand and got on his knees in front of the gods. He cleared his throat, "what exactly am I meant to do?"
You gave him a gentle smile, "pray for mercy and forgiveness for your sins. And ask for guidance."  Aegon scoffed, “is that what you do? Pray for forgiveness? What sins have you committed that need prayer?” You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks as you stared at him. "I simply pray for others' sake." Aegon clicked his tongue, "Lying in the house of the gods too? You’ve really taken a turn for the worse.” 
Now all you could feel was guilt, was he always so capable of seeing through you? Would the gods punish you for a white lie? “It’s private.” He chuckled to himself, moving to sit on top of the stone you prayed before. “Who better to confess to than me? The gods will surely judge you for they’re too pure but I’m, as you said before, the living embodiment of sin.”
You stared up at him, from this angle he did seem godly to you, as if he was your sole god. As if he held a power over you that you did not possess. He beckoned you forward with a finger, placing it under your chin and lifting it so you faced him.  "Come little septa, tell me what your holy self has done."
The beating of your heart grew louder, threatening to burst from your chest and fill the sept with its frantic beating. "I- I have sinful desires… of the flesh." Your voice quivered as you confessed, the guilt of lying to the gods filling you to the brim. Aegon hummed, moving his finger from your chin and placing it against your lips. “Who has caused such vulgar things?”
He stared into your eyes, they seemed like an ocean of sin, filled with the horrors of the world and yet somehow, they were as clear as glass. You wanted to stare into them forever, as if they were a trap that you could not escape once you fell in. “Y-you.”
 He pressed his thumb to your bottom lip, tugging at it gently. His gaze turned heated, almost like that of a wild beast. “Then you have been praying to the wrong gods. If only you worshiped me, prayed to me, I could make it go away.” You could feel yourself start to sweat, a feeling of warmth forming between your legs. It was as if he was lighting a match in your stomach, slowly igniting your flesh with his burning gaze.
"t-teach me, how to devote myself to you instead.”  Aegon leaned closer, His warm breath hitting your lips. His voice was a low whisper, "As you wish, little septa," His lips crashed against yours, his hand tearing away your hair net. It was like he had torn a hole in the very fabric of the sept, the moment you entered the gods seemed to disappear. Everything about Aegon made you feel weak, he made you want to abandon your beliefs, make you want to throw away your virtue. 
His kiss was rough, but passionate. It was like he was devouring your very soul and sucking out your very being. Aegon began to unlace his trousers, his cock springing loose. Your eyes widened, you’d never seen a male appendage before, and you surely did not think they were this big. "Open your mouth." You obeyed, opened your mouth so your tongue was in view.  Aegon let out a low groan, "such a good little septa." 
Your lips stretched around his cock as he forced it into your mouth. His hips bucked forward, his cock hitting the back of your throat. He moaned, gently tugging at your hair to signal you to move. “Suck harder.” He looked down at you, his lustful gaze boring into your very soul. 
You did your best to please him, your head moving up and down, your tongue licking his shaft. Tears were beginning to leak from your eyes as his tip occasionally hit the back of your throat. "Fuck, " His hand ran through your hair, gently stroking it. 
He pulled himself out of your mouth, “We have on too many clothes.” He made quick work of his own clothes before tearing off your dress, stripping you naked in front of the gods. Aegon leaned back, his eyes wandering across your exposed flesh. "My, you are perfect, little septa."
Aegon pulled you onto his lap, one hand holding onto your waist while the other went between your legs. His finger slid against your folds, "So wet already." You shivered, a whine escaping your throat. "Aegon-"
"You’ve never touched yourself before, have you? Oh, you innocent thing," Aegon smirked, lifting you by your waist. His cock prodded at your entrance, the head slipping inside of you. He moved his hands, placing one on your hip while the other gripping your thigh. Aegon pushed you down, his cock forcing itself into your tight cunt. 
You let out a loud scream, the feeling of being stretched making your legs weak. He groaned; his cock buried inside of you. "That's right, scream loud enough for all the gods to hear." Aegon's hands moved to your waist, moving you up and down his cock.
"Aegon, ahh!" You cried out, each time he hit your center. You gripped onto his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. "S-so good,” his words slurred. The holy sept was filled with the sound of your skin slapping together and the sounds he was forcing out of you. 
Your cunt began to tighten, a sickly-sweet heat building inside of you. “A-Aeg,” you cried out. He slowed his thrusts, biting his lip hard “not yet,” he pushed you off of him and onto the hot stone, coating your breasts and stomach in candle wax.
He moved behind you, his hand wrapping around your throat. "You're not allowed to cum until I do." He rammed himself into you, hitting the spot inside that made your legs turn to jelly. Aegon moaned, "s-good sister.” 
He pounded into you, his cock stretching you open. Your head was spinning, everything was hazy, and you couldn't tell where you ended and he began. Aegon slipped his fingers underneath you, rubbing at your clit. His pace was ruthless, each thrust making your head spin.
You bit your lip as Aegon rutted into you like an animal. Your legs started to become weak, shaking from the stimulation. "Fuck," he hissed, "Cum with me, little septa.” You whimpered loudly, the coil in your stomach tightening.  
His thrusts became sloppy, his fingers circling your clit faster. Your body went rigid, your toes curling and your vision blurring. A wave of ecstasy hit you, sending shivers down your spine. "Fuck fuck, fuck-" Aegon buried himself deep inside of you, your cunt squeezing his seed out of him. 
He fell on top of you, panting into your ear. His cock slipped out of you, cum dripping from your abused pussy. Aegon pressed a kiss to your temple, "my little septa," he chuckled, "You should have told me how you felt sooner."
Your entire body felt sore, yet you were completely at peace. You'd never felt this way before, your mind was clouded, and you couldn't even begin to think straight. Aegon kissed you again, his tongue slipping into your mouth and making you melt. "Don't fret, I'll take care of you from now on, sweet sister."
734 notes · View notes
myabsurddreamjournal · 5 months
Text
Fate (Part 3)
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Soldier boy x Fem! reader
Summary: Reader is a scientist who is forced to work at lab that they keep soldier boy frozen, she talks and cries to him when she is alone, thinking he can't hear her but he hears everything.
her head was on something comfortable and warm, gentle fingers were brushing her hair. Her mother used to this after certain days, when her mind became so loud, all she could think about were the bad thoughts, the things she saw on the news, the things she heard from radio while sitting on the school bus, that dead body of a fox in the road, crushed by a car.
They haunted her. All her life, Even as a child she knew something was wrong with her, because unlike her, none of her friends were in constant fear and sadness. No matter what she did, Laughing or crying, big part of her was always thinking that she wasnt meant to be in this world.
that this world was wrong.
Fingers were on her cheek now, caressing it softly. She chased it with her head,
-"You sure resembe a kitty"
what?
this wasnt her mothers voice.
She opened her eyes in shock, A very familiar face with green eyes was looking down on her.
-"S-soldier boy!?"
-"I was afraid that you hit your head too hard back there"
Suddenly she was aware of sharp ache on the side of her head. But there was something else, her head, it was in his lap! heartbeat starting to speed up, she tried to stand up but his hand on her shoulder prevented it.
"Don't." he said sternly. "You need to lay down for a while"
"O-Okay.."
"H-how? " i mean w-what happened? where am i?"
"in a plane, we are going back to U.S."
she looked at him confusedly.
"You passed out back there, i carried you." he added.
upon hearing this, she looked at the surroundings, giant boxes and packets were everywhere. No seats were in sight. "must be a cargo plane" she thought. But why did she passed out?
she tried to recall past few hours, the sirens, and gunshots, the tall guy telling her to wake him up,
the last thing she remember was throwing that damn ashtray, then..
Him saying her name.
how could he know that?, it was impossible
"it could only happen if he was.." told a voice inside her.
suddenly, a horrible feeling started to form in her gut.
-"h-how do you know my name" she asked with a trembling voice, Praying that answer wouldnt be the one she expected.
-"i heard everyhting you told me."
For a few seconds, she was silent, the weight of what she just heard making her dizzy.
She tried to fight the feeling, not wanting to be so weak in front of him.
But when his hands started to stroke her hair again, her eyes became glassy, she closed them, tears falling on her cheeks,
she couldnt believe it, didn't want to believe it, all this time he was there, hearing her while she was crying and telling everything about her life to him, apologizing to him.
Admiring to him.
Taking his blood. Poking him with needles.
he was aware of everything they did.
She was sobbing now, trying to be quiet, she covered her face with hands but soldier boy pulled them away moments later,
-"Why are you crying doll?" he asked,
-"B-because i-i always found solace at the thought, that you were not in pain anymore, that you were asleep so you couldn't feel it." I never wanted to do the things they told me, the thin-
she couldnt finish because he lifted her chin with his finger, making her look at his eyes directly.
she gasped at what she saw, his green eyes,
they were burning, burning with rage.
she could almost see the flames in them, like in her dreams. The dreams she had since she was a child.
Tumblr media
he leaned towards her and slowly took her arm in his hand, looking at the burn mark there.
-"they will pay for what they did." He said,
-"To you and me."
Notes: I hope you guys liked it! your comments are really important to me, also, do you guys also hate the world? Always feel free to talk to me :)
taglist: @deans-spinster-witch @mfnqueen1 @ponypickle @butchers-girl @verypostcrown
195 notes · View notes
baby-jaguar · 4 months
Text
Part 1: Meeting John Price
Tumblr media
Western AU; Mail Order Spouse Trope
WC: 3,131 CW: None
AN: My beloved! John Price! Would love to hear your thoughts and comments, as well as any questions. I hope ye enjoy <3
Please see the following for the explanation and precursors to the scene!
Introduction, Biography
--------
Truthfully, you’re glad you didn't have many friends in town, as it meant no one to share unnecessary secrets with, nor did it spread any word of what you were up to in your free time. 
However, that isn’t to say that you trusted at least some people in the small town you lived in, such as your boss.
A scapegoat for you to write your correspondence letters was that you simply had to stay late on the farm, working extra long hours because of something that was messed up, or because you knew your parents wouldn’t argue with the fact that you were getting more money.
Feeling that you were a decent enough candidate for John to consider since you are working as a farm hand already, you decided to write your first correspondence the next day. Once sent, you received a letter back from him four days later and by god, did he sound like such a gentleman. 
You were able to soon confide in him on how you wanted to leave town, start fresh, but stick with what you know since you did work on the well-known “Loyal Laswell Farm,” and help out around their farmhouse with common jobs such as sewing, cooking, and even making a dirty barn looked organized- a man’s dream spouse.
With only two weeks passing and less than a handful of letters to be traded, you already had money and an open invitation to John’s ranch. Through your correspondence, John stated that he had already known of Kate Laswell, her having been a long ago buyer from him and even she had sought out advice on taking care of her lambs long ago. 
John connected the dots and realized that you were the trusty youngling that she hired early on; He already trusted your morale if Laswell had kept you after all this time. (And if Laswell did gloat about you once in a while, that was a secret between her and John.) After finding out about the mutual connection, you confided in her. 
Kate, already knowing of your family’s vices, was pleasantly surprised by your major turn of life events and how quickly your fate had been granted to you in the form of Price. She made sure your head was screwed on straight enough that if it didn’t work out, you could mail her and she would help you figure it out from there…
Kate’s wife chimed in and said you and Price would be a great fit.
The two women gave their aid to you in the form of gifting you your favorite horse to ride off on during your long journey. You only brought a handful of items from your parent's house, slowly, and used the remaining amounts of wardrobe you kept at the farm to pack up. With two bags packed and some food, feed, a gun being courtesy of Laswell’s wife, and a celebratory pack of cigars for John (Kate’s wedding gift), you were on your way. 
It only took you a week by horseback, luckily traveling near the Oregon Trail that had already had sorted paths cleared and lived-in, you only needed to stop when you and your horse did. You were able to send John updated letters, but were not able to receive them due to constantly being on the move. This left you daydreaming about him.
John wrote that he is originally from Deadwood, South Dakota. He comes from a long line of lawmen and followed in their footsteps in his early adult life. However, as John became sheriff and notorious for his hardened but fair demeanor, he began to see the justice system slip through the cracks right in front of him. Murderers would walk away and many left unjustly prosecuted in other cases. It angered and dwelled on him so much that he retired early on. John soon found his solace in the quiet mountain town of Pitkin, Colorado. John describes himself as a proud man who is protective and respectful, an old soul who loves his whiskey - and is looking for his strawberry wine. He is a weathered man who can fix any problems of yours, all at the cost of a shoulder to lean on and someone to spend the rest of his days with.
Coming into Pitkin, it brings forth a small town nestled within luscious green mountains and a strip of shops down the main road that highlights most of the town's activity. Riding through, you were an obvious sight to be had; a new face set out on a horse with minimal bags packed on the back. You didn’t seem like a traveler, no, you seemed like someone who was on a mission to find something- someone. 
Smiling and giving small nods towards those who stare, your cheeks have a faint blush from the attention as you ride down the strip and toward the end of the town. Soon, the signs have a label of a bull, a common connotation of a ranch, causing you to garner up a bit more hope and hold your head high as you click your horse into a canter. 
The sound of your horse's hooves thundering on the ground cannot beat the thrum of your heart; riding over the hill, you’re greeted with a breathtaking view of the Alpine mountains that dip into a valley with an absurd amount of leveled planes that make you believe the land was spread flat by an inviting entity. Your eyes come into focus on small black dots that move before you make out to be the shape of cattle grazing across the green and flowing grass.
There sits a house atop the hill that is before the dip of the valley, where a fence surrounds a large barn that is directly adjacent to the house. You bring your horse to a slow walk as you take in the view of the wooden house; it's a cabin-styled home but large in the additions that have been formed around the sides, making it one of the bigger houses in town. The barn rivals its size by double, and the open stalls along the side let you glimpse into the hay-filled homes of horses that linger near the fences. You have to do a double take when you see movement in the barn that is all too human-like, then pulling the reigns of your horse once a few feet away from the entrance to stop and watch. 
A man stands, low grunts leaving him as he stretches his back before grabbing a hay bayle and beginning to break it up. He wears a worn-out pair of jeans and a cowboy hat as his low whistling breaks the silence between the surrounding horses neighing at your new appearance. In an instant, you know immediately this is John.
To your surprise, your horse greets the others in a sharp jeer of noise, causing him to turn around in surprise his eyes dart up at you.
For a second, you’re humored at the look he gives, not expecting something so sweet as you to ride into his ranch and most likely expecting someone within the town to come to bother him. 
But in an instant, he knows exactly who you are. 
After his shock wears off, he sets down the hay and reaches up to take his cowboy hat off and place it on his chest as he walks toward you. Letting out a low whistle, his eyes roam over you with an enamored stare. “God was just showin’ off when he made you, sweetheart.” Comes the low timbre of his voice, sending a small fire of desire shimmying through your vertebrae. 
A soft smile graces your face in return, halting your horse for the time being as he comes up to you. “Good morning sir, would I be right to assume that you are John Price, the owner of this ranch?” You ask after a moment of your eyes trailing over him, taking in his face and ice-blue eyes while he approaches to help you down from your horse.
“That I am, Sweetheart. And I suppose you’re the one that I’ve been lookin’ so forward to meetin’, that right?” He asks in return, a small smirk taking his lips while he helps you lower down from the saddle. You smile at the extended hand, taking it as you swing your opposite leg out of the stirrup while feeling the touch of his other hand coming to caress your hip in a gentle fashion.
"I hope you've been as comfortable as one can be on a week-long ride," John comments softly, keeping his hand on you once you're firmly planted on the ground as his eyes scan you from head to toe. "How you feelin’?" He asks sweetly, now finding your eyes with genuine affection in his tone.
In response to his lingering touch on your hip, and feeling it travel to your waist with a brief squeeze before he lets it fall, you give him a small squeeze of the hand you're holding to. “Not too shabby; was able to get a room a few of the nights along the way. I’m thankful for the good weather I had while getting here.” You respond as you shift your saddle-sore hips for a moment and reorient your limbs to standing. 
"You're not so shabby yourself, sweet thing'." He compliments softly as he releases you, then grabs your horse’s bridle and releases the bit before attaching his own lead to it, and a small feeling of surprise crosses your mind at how easily he handles new horses. Then, gesturing for you to follow him. "Come on. Let me show you around." John leads with comfortable confidence, letting your horse sniff him while leading him to an open stall with some water and feed. 
“Thank you for letting me bring my stallion here, Laswell gifted him to me when I was sayin’ goodbye. Said you may remember him from when he was a foal?” You prompt with a tilt of curiosity at the edge of your words while you join them in the stall to unload your bags and take the saddle off.
Looking back towards him, his eyes are looking over the horse for any identifiers, hints that would make him remember. “Not quite sure I remember this one, sweetheart. He got a name?” John asks in response once finished doing a sweepdown of his mane and a quick swipe of his hair coat.
“Laswell said he’s always been named Captain.” You answer curtly, now looking to see his reaction, if any.
It takes a moment for you to narrow in on the way the left side of his mustache twitches slightly before he breaks out into an all-out smile. “Well, I’ll be damned…” John trails out as he moves back towards Captain's head.
His blue eyes shine in the light of the barn windows, meeting yours for a moment while a boyish charm takes over his face. “This slick bastard got you all the way over to me?” John speaks with a gruffness that intertwines with amusement; the way his hands move to rub over the horse's forehead and nose showcases a glimpse of a gentle side reserved for his animals.
As you scrunch your eyebrows up in confusion, John catches your expression and gives a hearty chuckle in response. “I helped birth this one the day that Kate came up here to buy some lambs. Her wife was cryin’, thinking that him and his momma were gonna die.” He answers before moving to give Captain a pat on his chest, a huff of his breath coming out in response. 
“He had both him’s front legs back during contractions. Had to help the mare by pushing his fat head on in to get him to readjust. Kate and her wife saw the whole thing.” He finishes with a hum and a distant look in his eyes only for a second, now coming back to your side and picking up a bag of yours.
“This all you got? Woulda expected a bit more from a woman movin' out west, especially to the cold mountains.” He states with a cocked eyebrow, eyeing as you bend down to hoist the remaining bag over your shoulder. You both give Captain a farewell tap before exiting the stall and heading towards Johns's house.
You wait on replying for a moment as you take a longer look at the structure, noting the wooden panels that exude a warm and weathered patina, a testament to the house's endurance against the harsh elements of the wild. The front features a symmetrical facade, with a steeply pitched gable roof that displays a combination of wooden shingles and iron accents. Windows are evenly placed on the front-facing sides of the house, and shutters open to allow glimpses into the inside.
“Didn’t have a lot to bring if I’m being honest. Just packed up what I liked and wanted, then left.” You answer with a confident nod, leaving it at that. “I did plan on finding some new or old fabrics to start making winter coats for myself.” You add on quickly, thinking over how quickly the chill must set in within the mountain valley.
You follow John onto the front porch of the house, “Ah, you do some of that fancy work or just plain work?” He inquires while gesturing for you to step inside the entrance. You’re greeted by a spacious entryway, designed to be practical and modest. The floors, made of polished wide planks, creak softly under the added weight of yourself next to John, a new soul to provide protection to in the house.
To the front of the entryway, is his living room, its centerpiece being a grand stone fireplace, providing warmth and comfort during the chilly evenings. Leather upholstered furniture invites warmth to the house, and you can see a good amount of hides used as a rug and even a throw blanket over the couch, while ornate coffee cans and some intricately shaped vases linger around the surfaces. 
The sound of your mouth opening and closing resonates in the silence of you two standing there before John shuts the door softly behind you and ultimately snaps you out of your daze. “Um, just some plain work. Never had the time or materials to work on some fancy clothes, would rather make things I know I’m gonna use.” You answer while moving to face adjacent to where he stands in front of the door.
His eyes track your own as your attention comes back to rest on him, a small smirk tugging on the edge of his mouth. With a quick laugh, he moves to place his left hand along your back, his cold fingers sliding to the place between your shoulders. “Welcome home, Sweetheart.” He smiles while speaking softly, leaning over to place a light kiss atop your head. 
When he moves back from your space, which you want to ultimately follow as you feel his warmth radiate next to you and already adore the way his voice dips impossibly lower when speaking so gently, his hand slides down to the small of your back and gives a small tap to lead you forward. “Come on, let's get you settled in.” He beckons you while walking to a door that is adjacent to the entrance.
Walking in, John’s bedroom exudes a haven, signifying his rest and relaxation at the end of the day. The warm, earthy tones of the wood and furniture create an internal warmth, in contrast to the view of the surrounding mountains of green and glimpse over the cattle that wander the land, the windows laden with lace curtains.
The bed was the average size for the master bedroom; The double bed sat its headboard against the wall to the right of the entrance, facing the windows. A large red quilt adorns the bed while the bed itself is a robust wooden frame with upright pieces of carved and sanded wood posted taller at each corner of the bed.
In the corner is another stone fireplace, where an armchair sits to serve as a place for John to unwind, read a book, or reflect on the day. A well-worn wooden dresser stands against one wall, its surface adorned with a few cherished mementos - a faded photograph of him on a horse, a weathered pocket watch that has seen countless sunsets, and a small collection of polished rocks, each one possibly a reminder of a special moment.
"It's not much." He pauses before speaking again, his tone becoming more personal. "And I'd love to have you share my bed when you're comfortable. However, if you need time to adjust, I can set myself up in the living room. I don't wish to pressure you if you're not comfortable yet."
The sweet and respectful offer doesn’t fly over you, and a small smile rises over your lips. “Thank you, John. That’s awfully considerate of everything you’re doing for me. I don’t want to burden you with sleeping on your own couch, I wouldn't mind.” You answer while slowly walking to the dresser, placing your bag down by the foot of it.
“It may take a few days to adjust and get to know you, but-” you take a second to turn around and look at his form with a small shy smile, “I don’t think I’ll keep you waiting long.” You finish as a soft blush rises to the apples of your cheeks. Your hands come to interlace together in the front of your lap as his heavy footsteps make their way towards you with a bright smile that borders a smirk.
He stops in front of you, holding eye contact as he places your other bag down. “Ain’t no way in hell I’d be letting you sleep on the couch, sweetheart. But, I do look forward to hearing your answer. When you’re ready for it.” He speaks in a gruff voice, eyebrows raised to make sure you're taking his answer to heart and understanding, his warm hands moving to enclose both of yours within his grasp.
Bringing your hands up to his lips, you watch with rapt attention at his mouth puckering and in turn, making his facial hair move in the action, then leaving a warm and gentle kiss on the back of each hand.
His eyes don’t stray from yours while doing so, his blue eyes bring an inviting wave of ice- the kind you actively seek when you’re feeling too hot or need to wake up. “Now, how about I show you the rest of the ranch, babydoll?” He asks with a soft grin, pulling you just a fraction closer by the grip of your hands.
146 notes · View notes
oliviajdjarin · 9 months
Text
Sebastian Sallow: Metallic Blood, Lacewing Flies, and Frostbitten Air
Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x fem!ravenclaw!reader (she/her; afab) (house is only mentioned twice)
Summary: Sebastian has pushed it too far and can think of no other remedy than you.
Excerpt: "Do you honestly think I would not be able to answer Ravenclaw's precious riddle?" he questioned. You scoffed, reaching to your left to turn on your yellow-toned lamp resting on your bedside table, and Sebastian's body stiffened. You faced him, eyes widening, and hands coming over your once again wide open mouth. A gash - so deep, red, and bloody that the skin was separated in two- stretching from the top of his left eyebrow to the bone of his jawline was the first thing you noticed. The second was the smile he still adorned. "I lied," he laughed humorlessly, still smiling as blood trickled into his mouth. "I got Amit to tell me the answer months ago."
Warnings: small mention of death, swearing, blood, detailed descriptions of stitching, crying, kissing, so much flirting, AGED UP CHARACTERS.
Word Count: 2.7k
A/N; Here we are again. Thank you to @peterwandaparker @ithinkweallsing @intheshadowofthegame @pasukiyo and @slythering-snake-boys for the love on my previous fic. I hope you all enjoy :)
My Writing
If you'd like to leave a like, comment, ask, or reblog, it would be much appreciated <3
(pic from pinterest)
Tumblr media
There was no solace like sleep.
Drifting away in a sea of covers and quilts, the pillow wrapped in your arms your only anchor to the conscious world. Hours go by in fractions of seconds; zeal coats your body and mind at the feeling of its promise. Your frigid hands and tired eyes cured by the touch of a blanket and the warping of a mattress against the curve of your spine. A stage to dream, not to think. Not to feel. Not to worry. Only to coast.
You were ripped from its precipice by a hand as cold as death.
You pulled away from it, your mind too sunken into your slumber to even conceptualize that it was real, until it pulled at you again. As light as a feather, and equally as apprehensive.
You hummed softly, blinking yourself awake, eyes watered with so much fatigue that everything was a blur. You shut your eyes harshly and opened them once more, vision now clear enough to make out the silhouette in front of you.
Or rather, the man in front of you.
Fortunately, you could recognize him by the depth of his breaths alone.
"Sebastian!" you shouted, sitting up completely in the darkness, still wrapped in the sheets of your bed.
"Shhh," he replied, pressing the palm of his right hand against your mouth, and the palm of his left against your cheek. His touch was firm, not rough.
You mumbled something against his skin as he scanned the vacant room, ensuring no being had managed to hear him. You attempted to speak again, and he finally let go of his hold.
"What are you doing here?" you said, managing to somehow whisper and yell at the same time.
"I -" he began, his breath coming through his mouth becoming slower and slower, " - I needed you."
You were grateful for the darkness overwhelming the room. Your mouth opened like a hog. You quickly shut it.
"How in Merlin's name did you even get in here?"
You could see the smirk on his face, even through the night.
"Do you honestly think I would not be able to answer Ravenclaw's precious riddle?" he questioned.
You scoffed, reaching to your left to turn on your yellow-toned lamp resting on your bedside table, and Sebastian's body stiffened.
You faced him, eyes widening, and hands coming over your once again wide open mouth.
A gash - so deep, red, and bloody that the skin was separated in two- stretching from the top of his left eyebrow to the bone of his jawline was the first thing you noticed. The second was the smile he still adorned.
"I lied," he laughed humorlessly, still smiling as blood trickled into his mouth. "I got Amit to tell me the answer months ago."
Your hands still cupped your mouth at the sight of his gaping wound, so fresh blood was still pouring down his neck, as you took a shaky breath in. Your hands dropped from your mouth as his smile slowly dissipated into a wince.
"Seb," you whispered.
"I told you," he replied, bloodshot eyes piercing into yours. "I needed you - need you."
You quickly snapped out of your shock and forced yourself to focus, all remnants of drowsiness replaced with its viger, and stood up. You made your way around your bed and opened the second drawer of your bedside table, pulling out a dusty first-aid. Sebastian allowed his full weight to be seated onto your bed, the frame of it squeaking.
"You're lucky every other Ravenclaw went home for the holidays," you said, dusting off the kit and opening it. You took out what you needed - multiple towels, a needle, a vile of previously boiled water, and string.
Sebastian hummed in agreement. "And I'm lucky you didn't."
You smiled, bringing your supplies over to your bed. You propped him up against the bed frame, and you sat before him, legs crossed. "I suppose you are."
You took his chin into your hands and moved his face around in the light, taking a good look at his injury. The skin was completely sliced, and a bruise was already beginning to form around his eye. His eyes fluttered, obviously trying to mask the pain.
"Magic won't work on this," you said, opening the vial of water and dousing a towel with it. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay," he responded, and you pressed the towel against the wound. He hissed, balling your sheets up into his fist. The towel quickly became stained with red.
"What happened?" you asked, attempting to distract him in any way you could.
"What do you think?" he responded quickly. "He didn't want me there."
"He" meaning his Uncle Solomon. You hummed, your way of coaxing him to continue.
"I arrived in Feldcroft this morning and went to our house immediately, and Anne was ecstatic," he said, and you removed the towel, satisfied with the wound's cleanliness. You began to thread your needle. "I haven't seen her that happy in months."
You smiled, the image of her smiling filling you with a crackling joy.
Sebastian smiled at your smile.
"She brought me inside, hugging me so hard I could hardly breathe," he continued, and you lined up your needle. He saw it from the corner of his eye, and his body paralyzed with fear. His breath halted, and so did yours.
"I'll be as quick as I can," you whispered, looking him in the eye.
"I know," he replied, but his eyes shut and his face winced, preparing himself for the pain. For some reason, it was that image that finally sunk the situation into your brain. How hurt Sebastian was, both physically and emotionally, and how desperate he was to just get this over with. You felt helpless, tears beginning to culminate into your eyes. You didn't want to be the cause of that look on his face, but you had to be, and you hated yourself for it.
You were all he had.
And it was with that realization that you couldn't help yourself. You kissed his cheek, just to the right of his wound, breathing in his usual musk of fresh pears, butterscotch, and clean linen. This scent was now clouded, however, with the pungent aromas of metallic blood, lacewing flies, and frost-bitten air. His skin was soft against your lips, despite it all, but you did not allow yourself the time to memorize it. Instead, you pulled away, hoping he could understand everything you meant with the kiss. I'm sorry. I don't want to hurt you. I've got you now. You're safe.
You lined up your needle once again, not allowing yourself to see whatever reaction he had to the gesture, and stuck it through the skin, beginning to stitch.
The whimper he released cracked your heart in two.
"Keep talking," you said to him, focusing as best you could. "Just keep talking."
He caught his breath, swallowed harshly, and continued, his voice strained and husked. "She brought me into the kitchen, showing me the meal she prepared. I told her how - how proud of her I was. She thanked me for coming and then brought me to the ta - table, mumbling something about how ha - happy she was to celebrate the holidays as a family."
You had made it to just below his cheek bone, your body sweating and his shaking. Tears still ran from your eyes.
He swallowed again, exhaling deeply. "She set it all up, made sure I was comfortable, and we waited for Solomon. She asked me about - about school. How I was doing. Ho - how you were doing."
You would be lying if you said your focus did not waver.
"I told her everything was great," he continued, hissing once again as you tightened an especially separated piece of skin.
"Over halfway done," you mumbled, and he nodded.
"Finally he showed up, not hi - hiding his shock at my presence at all," Sebastian said. "And we started eating. Everything was perfect. The snow was falling through the window, Anne was happy, I was happy, it was like something out of a novel."
You waited for the catch.
"Until I fucked it up. Like always."
You almost grabbed his hand. Almost.
"I mentioned some of the research I've been doing to - to help Anne," he said, "and Solomon lost it. Yelled that I had to go and ruin the holidays with my obsession with Anne's condition. He ye - yelled so loud that he..."
Sebastian paused, and you paused with him.
"...he made Anne flinch," he said through gritted teeth, "and so I lost it too. I don't even remember what I said."
You looked at him for a moment, this broken boy in your bed, and scoured your brain for any string of words that could make him feel better. Everything you came up with felt immeasurable to his anguish.
So, you finished the final section of stitching quicker than you thought you ever could, not ignoring how Sebastian did not even flinch, and cut the thread. You then placed a fresh, cold-water soaked towel into his wound, attempting to calm it down.
Your eyes never left his, which were now staring off into the distance, haunted.
"Seb," you whispered, trying your best to cradle him with your voice, "then what?"
He sighed. "It's blurry. I know I stormed out, I don't remember what direction I took. Next thing I knew, Ranrok's loyalists were surrounding me, and I..."
He breathed deeply.
"...I killed them all."
You nodded, gently wiping at his wound before removing the towel completely. He turned to look at you, his gaze a mix of fire and pain.
"And I got this during the fight. A moment I wasn't looking," he said.
You nodded again and placed the dirty towels and needle onto a third clean one, and placed that onto the wooden floor of the common room. You looked at your hands in the glowing light - coated in blood, some even dripping down your wrists, a few droplets finding their way onto your sleep shirt.
You looked back up at him, his eyes on your hands as well.
"How's it feel?" you asked him, and his eyes snapped back up into yours.
"Better," he mumbled, wiping at his nose. The wound was yellow, ugly, and swollen, but it was closed. Soon enough, Wiggenweld would work on it, and it would be healed completely. You didn't need to tell him that. "Thank you, Y/N. Really."
You nodded, resting your sticky hands in your lap. "Thank you for being honest with me."
He nodded back, and the two of you sat like that for some time. Neither knowing what to say, but neither wanting the other to leave.
You broke the silence, sliding off the bed and standing up. "Get some rest, Sebastian. You need it."
He looked up at you, eyes caramelized from the yellow lamps and tears, and stood up in front of you. The look upon on his face was a mix of seemingly every emotion, and he licked his lips. You looked up at him and smiled faintly before leaning down to move the blood-soaked towels out of the way.
He stopped you, sliding his palms over your cheekbones, and kissed your lips.
You wished you could say you hesitated, pulled away in shock, or stopped him, asking if this was something he truly wanted or if it was a way to separate from his own brain, but no.
You all but fucking melted.
His lips were like velvet, caressing against your own like a moth to a flame, unable to get enough, not caring if it burned. And yet, he was delicate with the rest of his body - his hands on your face slowly making their way down to your waist. He was a magnet for you, pulling you in like a song. It did not take you long to place your own hands onto his robes and pull the material between your fingers, pulling him closer, closer, closer. He tasted of roast and cinnamon, likely from the dinner he had mentioned.
You whined as he tipped your head back suddenly, allowing him more access to cartograph your mouth. Merlin, he kissed and kissed and kissed you - breathing into your mouth, nibbling on your bottom lip, never letting go.
You didn't want him to.
His hands were in your hair now, massaging your scalp with his nails, sending chills down your spine. Your hands moved to his tie, making it nearly impossible for him to pull away.
He found a way.
You chased after his lips with your own, but he held you back, breathing a laugh against your mouth. You opened your eyes.
His freckles were a piece of fucking art up close.
"Y/N," he whispered against your mouth, centimeters away. "Y/N."
"What?"
"We've got to work on your aim."
You smiled, knowing he was referring to your quick taste of his skin from earlier. "Oh, 'we' do?"
He smiled wide enough to show his dimples, stretching the stitches, eyes darting from your left eye, to your right, to your mouth. "Yes."
"So that's why you kissed me?" you questioned, mouths still nearly touching. "So we could 'work on my aim?'"
His face suddenly turned sincere. "No," he said. "No it wasn't."
You smiled, eyes glowing in victory.
He pulled you back to his mouth, but as you closed your eyes, you caught a glimpse of your hands on his chest, and pulled away with a gasp.
"What?" he said, suddenly panic-stricken, removing his hands from your body instantly. "I'm sorry, what did I -"
"Your robes," you said, pointing at his chest, and he looked down.
His white shirt, tie, and collar of his robe were stained pink, fingerprints visible even in the grim lighting you were standing in. His mouth opened, but before long, he met your gaze with a smile.
"Sebastian I - you're smiling?"
He laughed, genuinely laughed. "Yes, I'm smiling," he said, still laughing.
"But I've just stained your things!" you said, unable to not laugh with him. "I am so sorry, Seb. I'll wash them, I swear -"
"Trust me, Y/N, this is not the first time I have gotten blood on my clothing," he said as he walked closer to you once more and pecked your lips. "But it is by far my favorite time."
You rolled your eyes and kissed him again, and again, and again, the both of you smiling into the kisses so big you could barely even bring your lips together. You hummed contentedly, as did he.
"Sebastian," you whispered against his mouth, and he kissed you again, practically groaning.
"Merlin do that again," he asked, and you smirked.
"Sebastian," you said, and he kissed you harder than he had all night.
"Yes?" he responded.
"You need to sleep. You need to heal."
"I need you," he said, and you kissed him one final time.
"Go to your common room, take a shower, get some sleep," you said to him, eyes dancing across his gash, despite the mind-numbing image of Sebastian Sallow with swollen lips and flushed cheeks you had before you.
You didn't want him to go, but he had to.
He nodded, knowing you were right, but still not removing his hands from you.
"And after you do all that," you continued, "you come and find me. To make sure you are healing properly, of course."
Merlin, if only you could have captured the look on his face that he met you with and kept it in your pocket for the rest of your days. He nodded and pressed one final kiss to your own cheek. You smiled.
"Of course," he said sarcastically against your skin. "Thank you, Y/N. For everything."
You nodded, and with one final smile, he walked past you to exit the common room. You rubbed your lips together, wondering if you were somehow in a dream the entire time.
"Oh, and by the way," he said, and you turned around to face him. He had made it to the door to the bedroom, one hand on the handle as he spoke.
"I kissed you because I have been in love with you since the day you bested me in our duel."
He left you with only the echo of the door closing behind him, and the realization that no, this was not a dream. Not at all.
Tag list: (let me know if you'd like to be added!)
@leahkenobi
401 notes · View notes
luveline · 1 year
Note
I was wondering, what do r and Steve’s schedules look like at the college in the zombie au? Do they get and free time? Wuv u
I feel the college would be on a 3/4 day swap bc there's a lot of people but also a lot of jobs to do! they’d ask for the same days off + they spend a lot of their free time like this (suggestive) !! steve zombie!au | fem!reader | 1k
Your needle pulls through the white fabric of Steve's shirt with ease. You tug until the two sides of the rip are touching and make another stitch, and another, enjoying the peaceful solace that is your room. Just outside the door you can hear Milly and Lupita playing go fish in the hallway. Milly sits in her doorway, Lupita opposite. 
Steve snores quietly in his sleep. You peek up from his ripped t-shirt. Like he can feel your eyes on him, he starts to wake, stretching and groaning under the sheets. You stick the needle through his shirt so you won't lose it and reach for his bicep.
"Hey," you say, rubbing his naked skin soothingly. 
He folds his arm to cover your hand with his. "Hey," he mumbles.
Breakfast in the town hall was put away hours ago, and dinner won't be for another three or four, but if you asked Maybelle, the woman in charge of The College's community meals, you're sure you can have whatever was left over. Or you could take something from the pantry (legally — you aren't a sneak). 
Steve doesn't look in any rush to get up and eat. He curls into himself and holds your hand to his chest. 
"What are you doing?" he asks without looking at you. 
"I'm sewing your shirt." 
"You didn't have to. I could've done it." 
"I know… You would've done a better job, too." 
Steve rolls flat onto his back, smiling at you already. You put his shirt and the needle and thread onto the nightstand and kneel beside his hip, smiling in turn. 
"That's not true," Steve says. "Don't underestimate my girl." 
You love when he says that, and maybe that's why he does it so often. My girl, emphasis on the my. You grin at him and slide your legs out so you can rest your head against his chest comfortably. You're only intending on stealing a quick moment there, but Steve wraps his arms around you easy, his nose in your hair. 
You hum happily. 
"What are we gonna do today?" you ask. 
You would've asked last night when he got back if he hadn't peeled off his clothes and slammed himself into bed beside you, hiding his face in your neck with an exhausted, "Are you okay? I'm so tired, I don't know if I can keep my eyes open." 
"Can we just stay here? I don't wanna deal with anyone who isn't you,” he says. 
"We're still gonna go to card club, right?" 
He rubs his nose left to right against your skin. "Yeah, we'll still go to card club. Henderson better behave, or I swear I'm coming home." 
"You're very mean to poor young Dustin," you murmur. 
"I'm mean to everybody. That's my thing." 
"That is not your thing,” you say fondly.
"Yeah, it is. You know it is." 
"No…" You move closer still and listen to his heart beating under your ear, eyes on your hand. You flatten your fingers over his pale shoulder and kiss at his chest absentmindedly. "No, you're lovely. You're my sweetheart." 
"I'm not," he says, with a laugh that gives away how flustered he's becoming. 
Huffing, you sit up to meet his eyes, uncharacteristically shy, a sweet, warm brown that you could fall into. You brush the sleep from his lashes. His hands creep to your hips. He takes your waist into his hands and squeezes upward aimlessly, a journey without a goal. 
"D'you miss me yesterday?" he asks. 
"Nope." 
"Such love," he drawls. 
"You miss me?" 
"Like a hole in the head." He follows up his sarcasm with a sweeter tone. "How's the pantry? Started talking to the food yet?" 
"There was a really weird can of beans that looked like you." 
You know from his smile alone that he's going to kiss you, but you can't close your eyes in time. He kisses you, laughs, kisses you again. "A can of beans?" he asks. 
You kiss for slightly longer than what's acceptable. Every time he pulls away you follow, and every time you split for breath he's not far behind, his lips loving against your cheek, the stripe of skin just shy of your jaw, anywhere he can reach. His fingers slide behind your ear, huge hand a heat over your hair as he tips your head up. 
"No, Stevie, don't," you protest gently.
He kisses your neck, lips gentle as the brush of a butterfly's wing. "Just one." 
"No," you say, giggling at the ticklish feeling of his words and their vibrations. "Everybody knows what it is." 
"That's half the point." 
"What's the other half?" 
"I love," he murmurs, dragging his bottom lip up the column of your throat with a calculated sluggishness, "the sound you make when I do it." 
You make a sound somewhere between a laugh and a squeal, not the sound he’d been implying, and sit up. You’re delighted by his salacious teasing but still so new to his seductions. He follows you, and your heart skips a beat at his expression. 
"Just one, baby," he says.
You know that if you said, No, Steve, I really don't want you to kiss me, he'd never press it again. But you both know you like it, and his beggy, rough tone gives you goosebumps. You love how much he wants to love on you — you can live with the resulting hickey. 
"Okay," you say. You have to clear your throat for any sound to come out. "Okay. One." 
Steve steals another peel of laughter from you as he manhandles you into his lap. Something about his grip makes you think you might not make it to card club after all.
586 notes · View notes
jpmarvel90 · 8 months
Text
Tumblr media
Nightmares
Masterlist Natasha Masterlist
Relationship: Natasha x Reader
Summary: Y/n starts having nightmares after a tough mission. She locks herself away from the team, hoping to feel better once her girlfriend returns from her own mission.
Word Count: 2200
Y/n's POV:
It was one of the worst missions I had been on. We were successful but at a price. Bucky, Sam and I had been sent to support a team of SHEILD Agents in apprehending a person of interest. The only thing was the intelligence was wrong and the person was far more dangerous than we had prepared for.
Instead of a teenage boy who was unaware of powers, we were greeted by a man in his early 20s, very capable of manipulating the element of fire. From the group of 10 agents, we lost 3 and 2 others had severe injuries. Their screams will forever haunt me.
The journey back on the quinjet was silent. I decided to pilot the jet back, so I had something to focus on, so I didn’t get lost in my thoughts. As soon as we landed the medical team were on hand to escort the injured to the medical wing. Fury was also stood waiting, his arms crossed waiting for us to exit.
Bucky, Sam and I slowly trudged off of the jet, my whole-body aching. “You did a good job.” Fury stated once we were in the meeting room. I couldn’t help but let out a scoff at his words. “Something you want to share Y/l/n?” He asked. I could feel the anger building in me. It took everything in me to not yell. “We lost three agents because the intel was wrong. We weren’t prepared and we paid the price. Tell me how that was a good job?” I fumed, my fist clenched.
“You apprehended an extremely dangerous individual. That is a good job. Intelligence isn’t always accurate, but despite the hardship you face, you successfully completed the mission.” Fury responded. I scoffed once again but didn’t reply. I didn’t have the energy, and nothing would change. We spent the next hour going through the debrief before we were allowed to leave.
All I wanted was to clean up and lie in bed in my girlfriend’s arms, but she was also out on a mission and wasn’t due back for a two more weeks. As we left the meeting room, I felt a hand on my shoulder. “You should probably go and see Bruce and get those cuts stitched up. You took more hits than Sam and me.” Bucky said with a soft smile on his face. “Well, we can’t all be super soldiers with metal arms.” I quietly joked. “Come on, I’ll keep you company.” She said, leading me to the medical wing.
Once I was stitched up, I made my way back to my room to shower the dirt off. I watched as the mud and blood washed off my body and drained away. In the solace of the shower, my mind raced over the events of the day and everything I could have done differently. Could I have saved at least one of the agents? I was abruptly pulled out of my thoughts by a knock on the bathroom door.
“Y/n/n, dinner’s ready.” Wanda said from the other side of the door. “Thanks Wands, I’ll be down in a minute.” I shouted back, quickly finishing up in the shower. After throwing on some sweatpants and a baggy hoody, I made my way down to the kitchen. With most of the team away on another mission, it was only Wanda, Bucky, Sam and I left in the compound. I took my seat opposite Wanda and I could see her worried eyes glancing over the cuts on my face. Dinner was quiet, with just small talk here and there. The food, as always when Wanda cooks, was amazing. It helped bring me the smallest amount of comfort, but I struggled to keep my mind off of what had happened on the mission.
“You couldn’t have done anything more Y/n” Wanda spoke up after Sam and Bucky left. I picked up the empty plates and walked into the kitchen to clear up. “Please stay out of my head Wanda.” I requested, not making any eye contact. “I’m just worried about you Y/n, I know what you’re like. I’m here if you need anything.” She replied. I gave her a nod and tight-lipped smile. Not wanting to push any further, she placed a kiss against my temple before leaving.
The next few days were tough. I hadn’t really slept, everything I closed my eyes, I relieved the events of the mission. I saw the agents die on repeat and I couldn’t get their screams out of my head. Each night I would wake up screaming, thank God for Tony sound proofing all the rooms. I mainly stayed in my room only coming out for dinner. I blamed myself and I was soon finding that I was falling into a black hole of darkness.
It was 5 days after the disaster of a mission and I woke up once again from a nightmare and decided to head out for a run. It helped to clear my mind and I felt slightly better when I got back. I showered and joined the others in the living room for the first time since the mission. I didn’t speak and I could see Wanda looking at me with concern in her eyes.
I knew she was reading my mind and I tried very hard to make sure I wasn’t thinking about all the dark thoughts I had been having. I thought I had been successfully as she hadn’t said anything. But I was wrong. She had excused herself and disappeared for a while before coming back in. She sat next to me this time and placed an arm around my shoulder. “Please don’t shut yourself away Y/n. We’re all here for you.” She said in a caring manner. I didn’t respond, I simply placed my head on her shoulder and sighed.
That evening, I was in my bathroom changing the dressings and cleaning up the wounds that were slowly healing. The cream stung like a bitch and I was fighting back the tears that were forming. I carefully unwrapped the dressing over the largest wound on my stomach, grimacing at the pain. As I run my fingers over the stiches, I hear a gasp from beside me.
Turning to look where the noise came from, I see my girlfriend stood in the doorway her hand to her mouth. “Nat. What are you doing here? You’re not due back for another week!” I exclaimed, shocked to see her stood in front of me. Her hand dropped from her mouth, but her eyes remained focused on my wound. “Wanda called and said how worried she was about you. I came straight home.” She responded.
“Babe, I’m fine. They’re just superficial.” I said, trying to calm her worries. She doesn’t say anything, but slowly walks towards me. Her hands gently running over the wounds on my stomach and face. She runs her thumb over my cheekbone and her eyes meeting mine. I lean my head forward, so our foreheads connect. It takes all of me to not breakdown.
Silently she takes over to help cleaning my wounds, placing light kisses on my lips every time I flinch in pain. It was calming to be with her again. Once I was cleaned up and rebandaged, we both changed into pyjamas and cuddled up in bed. Nat opened her arms for me snuggle into her. I placed my head on her chest and wrapped my arm around her stomach, pulling her close. “You shouldn’t have come home. I’m fine.” I said, gently running my finger in random patterns on her stomach.
“I’m glad I did. Wanda said you’d been shutting yourself away, that’s not like you. And besides, the mission was boring, it ended up just being recon.” She responded, her hand rubbing my back under my top. “Sounds like your mission wasn’t so easy.” She said looking down to me. I shook my head, not really wanting to talk about it right now. “You want to talk about it?” Nat asked. “Not right now, I’d rather just enjoy this time with you.” I said leaning up and giving her a kiss. “Ok, but I’m here when you’re ready?” I squeezed her tightly, earning a small chuckle. We led there for a while before we both succumbed to sleep.
I shot up screaming after seeing the deaths all over again. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it was going to rip out of my chest, and I was struggling to breathe. I gasped for breath whilst my eyes struggled to focus on the room around me.
“Babe, you’re ok. It was just a nightmare.” I felt Nat’s arms wrap around my shoulders. I couldn’t find the breath or words to respond. My eyes just frantically darted around the room.
Nat got up and knelt in front of me, placing her hands on my cheeks which caused me to flinch a little. “Look at me babe ok.” She calmly speaks. I feel her thumbs gently caressing my face which helps to calm me and I’m able to make contact with her worried eyes. “That’s great moya lyubov (my love). Now I need you to take some deep breathes. Follow my breathing.” She instructs, her thumbs wiping away the falling tears.
Whilst I’m still struggling to catch my breath, Nat helps me to sit against the headboard of the bed and she lays my legs out flat to help get air into my lungs. She takes my hands again and returns to helping me through following her breathing. After some time, although it’s still shaky, my breathing returns to normal. The gasping for air is replaced by quiet sobs.
“Oh detka, come here.” Nat sits to my side and pulls me on to her lap, giving me a tight hug. She rubs her hand up and down my back helping me to relax whilst holding my head to her chest. “It was awful Nat. He was so strong and his powers… t-they didn’t stand a chance! I can’t stop reliving it over and over trying to work out what I could have done differently.” I cry out.
“Shush, you’re ok now. I’m here, we’re going to get through this together. I’m not going anywhere.” Nat reassures me. “Tomorrow we’ll go and see Bruce and see if he can do anything to help. But I do think it would help if you talked to someone about it. It doesn’t have to be me, but it might help you process how you’re feeling.” Nat always knew the right things to say. I hated being vulnerable but with her I didn’t care. Being in her arms I felt safe, and I knew she would protect me.
I take a deep breath and look up into Nat’s eyes, where the worry has been replaced by pure love. “You’re right, I need help. After it happened I kind of shut myself away not wanting to address how it affected me. Hopefully speaking with someone can help for me to come to terms with what happened.” Nat just looked at me with pride. I was never one to admit I needed help which made Nat happy that I was accepting help, but also concerned at how bad it must be for me to admit it.
“Thank you Nat, for all of this. You’ve just come from your own mission and jumped in to dealing with my shit straight away.” I said, looking away slightly in shame. “Nope, none of that. I’m your girlfriend and this is part of the job. How many times have you sat with me after a bad mission or held me through a nightmare? I don’t want to be anywhere else, other than with you. I love you so much Y/n.” Nat said with such sincerity. A wide smile appears on my face and I lean up and pull her into a passionate, yet soft kiss. “I love you too Nat.” 
Knowing that I wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep, Nat stayed up with me and we talked about everything and anything. My mind firmly taken off of the horrible nightmare I had awoken from. In the morning she did exactly as she said and took me to see Bruce. We arranged for me to start seeing a therapist and it was the best decision I made.
It took a while, but eventually the nightmares almost disappeared. Talking with my therapist had made me see it wasn’t my fault and that I did all I could. When I finally understood and believed that I started to see a change when I slept. The nightmares became less frequent, and even if I do still experience them, Nat is by my side to help me through.
I couldn’t have asked for more. Nat is my world, she stayed by me every step of the way. At times I would find myself falling into a dark place, but it was Nat who would drag me back and I eventually realised that she was my light and with her by my side, I could do anything. I know I’m going to marry that woman one day.
212 notes · View notes
hannibal-solos · 7 months
Text
The Bloody Baron: Chapter 3
Tumblr media
Victorian Vampire!AU
Series Rating: Explicit 18+, Minors DNI
Word count: 3.1k
Chapter Warnings: Smut, Oral (f receiving), Brief descriptions of blood, vampire feeding
Masterlist
You feel him move to stand in front of you, tears escaping from behind closed eyelids. If a thin layer of skin was your last line of defense, then so be it. You’d keep your eyes shut as long as you’re able. He wants control? He’ll have to fight you for it. 
“Do you really think…” You feel him press himself against you, hands oh so gently cupping your face, the ghost of his breath whisping across your nose and cheeks. 
“That you can keep your eyes shut forever, little one?”
“Baron Zemo, what a delightful surprise!” 
Your heart rate increases as you hear the voice of an older gentleman nearby. You don’t move, stock still in his embrace, facing the alter. 
“Open your eyes, liebling, or I’ll drain the old man dry.” He hisses against your ear. 
Your eyes snap open, darting to the owner of the voice: a kindly old man, dressed in his church robes. He smiles at you both congenially, making his way to where you stand. 
You keep your eyes on him, doing your best to smile even though your cheeks are likely tear-stained by now. 
“Ah, reverend. It has been too long.” You feel Zemo’s eyes on you, burning holes into the side of your face. 
The reverend shuffles closer, enough to clap a hand on the Baron’s back, the other shaking his hand heartily. 
“We have missed having you at our services, but we do understand how busy you are! Now sir, are you going to introduce me to this lovely young woman?” 
You do your best to shyly look at the ground, biting your lip to appear embarrassed rather than risk meeting the Baron’s gaze. 
To your horror, his hand comes into view, tilting your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes are downright predatory, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smirk as if to say gotcha. 
“This–” he stares into your soul. “Is my lovely fiance.” 
The reverend gives a joyful shout, clapping his hands together with glee. 
“Congratulations sir, a happy occasion indeed! When is the wedding?”
“We hadn’t decided yet, you know how overwhelming planning these things can get, She wanted to seek solace in the church to help settle her nerves.” 
You turn to smile at the reverend, wiping your tears away with your sleeve– hoping you embody the essence of a near-hysterical bride-to-be being comforted by her loving fiance. 
“I do apologize reverend, it was all just too much– I felt the need to be somewhere free of all the questions of gowns, menus, and invitation lists for a few hours.”
The Baron all but crushes you into a hug, placing a firm but gentle kiss to the top of your head. 
“It was good to see you, reverend, but if you don’t mind, I’d like to get the future Baroness home and into bed. It’s been an awfully long day for her.” 
I have a feeling it’s going to be an awfully long night as well. You think with a grimace, pressed into Zemo’s embrace. 
“Of course, of course! I do hope you feel better soon dear, I promise it all gets much easier with time!” 
Without much effort Zemo turns you in his arms so you’re both facing the exit, quickly making your way back down the steps of the church, and onto the busy street. 
You do your best to focus on putting one foot in front of the other, anything to keep your mind from succumbing to blind panic. As you walk, you make eye contact with the gentleman who helped escort you into the church. You avert your gaze as quickly as possible, shame burning your body from the inside. 
You feel a tug on your arm, and faster than you can blink, you’re in an adjacent alleyway, the Baron looming over you– hand wrapped around your throat while he uses the other to lean against the wall, caging you in. 
Wide-eyed with terror, you glance back at the alley entrance and open your mouth to scream out of instinct, only to feel the pressure from the Baron’s hand swiftly cut off your air supply. 
“Look at me, liebe,” he growls into your ear. “I admire your willpower but you’ll find it’s no match for my own. How long do you think you can last before you pass out? Do not let stubbornness lead you to stupidity.”
All too soon the spots are dancing in front of your vision once more. You’re clawing at his wrist in desperation, his iron grip on your throat never faltering as you feel his breath against the side of your face. 
Self-preservation kicks in, and you shift your head so you're looking at him once more, his crimson eyes gazing down at you with fury. 
“Good girl.” His grip relents–allowing you to sputter for breath–but he does not remove his hand from your throat. 
His eyes rake over your form, appraising you. 
“I must say, you got much farther than I’d imagined. But your greatest advantage was also your downfall: your friends helped keep me on your trail.” 
You feel your heart ready to burst out of your chest, a faint line of sweat appearing on your forehead. 
Oh god, Wade, Vanessa, Agatha, what have I done– 
“You needn't worry, no harm has come to any of them. Yet. Although perhaps I should pay a visit to the handsome young Vicar who laid his hands on you, hmm?” 
“He’s–he’s just a kind stranger who believed he was doing a good deed, nothing more– I swear to it!” You stutter out as best you can, hoping to spare him. 
“Hmmmm.” He hums as he gives your neck a light squeeze once more, using his gloved hand to turn your face this way and that, examining you. 
Your gaze is locked upon his own, terrified that if you look away he’ll cut off your air once more. He seems to have come to a conclusion of sorts, as his blood-red gaze snaps back to your own, lips curling to reveal sharp fangs once more. 
“Perhaps I was too kind in my previous offer. I’m going to mark you so thoroughly that there will never be any doubts as to who you belong to.” 
His hand moves to your hair and then slowly, too slowly, he tilts your head to the side, before sinking his teeth into your neck once more. He moves at a snail’s pace, almost savoring your pained whimpers as he laps up the blood that flows from the wound. 
You’re openly weeping by the time he’s finished feeding, terrified gaze now upon his own once more, blood dripping down his chin. 
“Now, give me a kiss, libeling.” 
At his compulsion you find yourself leaning into his touch, his hand still in your hair as you press your lips to his–doing your best to ignore the lingering taste of your blood on his mouth. He deepens the kiss, licking into your mouth ardently, as if he wished to fill every corner of your mouth with the mix of your essences. An internal battle rages as you scream inside your mind for you to stop this, stop enjoying this! But the inner voice is drowned out by the sound of your heartbeat ringing in your ears. 
He pulls away gently, one hand still fisted in your hair as the other grips your chin, allowing him to move your face so he can lick the last remnants of blood away from your shared kiss. 
To your surprise, he uses his teeth to remove one of his gloves, and bites into his own wrist, bringing the fresh wound to your lips. 
“Drink.” 
Your lips attach to his wrist, drinking, licking, and sucking from it like a woman possessed. The pain from both his teeth and his hand on your throat seemed to subside almost instantly, the ache in your feet gone, replaced with a kind of euphoria burning through you. 
“Enough.”  You stop, un-latching your mouth from his wrist, eyes wide. 
It was as if the blood from his veins had been strong red wine shooting straight to your head, and you were a drunkard, ready to beg for the next few drops of heaven. You sway slightly, your whole world off-balance. 
“What…” You have trouble finding your tongue. Too many questions race through your mind. What was what? What’s happening to me? What’s going to happen to me? 
He chuckles lowly, bringing your attention back to his handsome face. Your eyes linger longer than would be termed decent, but you can’t seem to help yourself. Your initial attraction to him has been magnified, and while the fear still lingered at the base of your skull, desire was at the forefront now. 
“Now you’ve tasted me just as I’ve tasted you. We’re bonded by blood, little one. All that you feel, I feel. And you will feel as I do, only less so.” 
Your mind races. Was the desire you were feeling his or your own? Or some sort of lethal concoction of mutual attraction you’d been trying to avoid? Trying to tamp down in the name of sense and rationality since the fateful moment you’d first encountered each other? 
He steps closer to you once more, eyes never leaving your own. 
“I know what it is that you want. That you crave. Give yourself to me fully, little one. I can give you all that you desire, and more. More than you could have ever dreamed of, if you’ll only call yourself mine and mine alone. To deny yourself these pleasures is to needlessly extend your mental anguish day by day, craving what you believe you should not have, should not desire. Destroy what you were, and give yourself over to what you can become.” He leans down so his nose touches your own, so close you can feel his breath from his lips leave to mingle with your own. His eyes are brown once more, no longer that haunting shade of red. He’s asking you. And you’re running out of reasons why you should say no. With money, title, land, you’d be able to help your friends. Never have to worry about where your next meal was coming from, or about how you were going to make next month’s rent. 
You chose life that night in the manor. So why not let yourself live?
“Yes,” you whisper, so lowly you were unsure you’d even said it out loud. 
His smile is wolfish and genuine as he leans down to capture your mouth in a searing kiss. Your arms move to wrap around his neck as he effortlessly scoops your legs up, locking them around his waist. 
The kiss is all-consuming, your combined desires only feeding the fire in your lower abdomen as you unconsciously grind yourself against him. He growls into the kiss, and steps back from the wall with you still wrapped around him. You’re about to pull away from him when you feel a rush of wind. When you open your eyes, you’re back in his home, with Zemo kicking the door open with a polished boot. Another wisp of air later and you’re in a grand bedroom, you can only assume it’s his. 
You don’t have time to gather your bearings as he drops you onto the plush mattress. Your hair scattered around you like a halo he was determined to knock off your head, cap lost somewhere in the lightning-fast journey from the church alley to his room. He crawls over you from the end of the bed, looking every inch the predator you know him to be, eyes red and mischievous. You hastily kick your shoes off, and remove the old cardigan, tossing it to the side. He leans over you, reaching for the collar of your shirt. You gasp as he rips it in two without much effort, exposing your heaving chest to his hungry gaze. 
He wastes no time in taking one of your nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the bud before very gently taking it between his teeth. His hand sets upon your other breast, mimicking the motions of his tongue by rolling and lightly pinching it between his fingers. 
He makes his way downwards, leaving a trail of kisses as he goes–until he reaches the waistband of your borrowed trousers. Rather than rip them, he has the fly undone before you can blink, pulling them down your legs hastily, and eyeing your panty-clad sex with renewed hunger. 
The drone of your blood in your ears is downright maddening, you can hardly think, hardly breathe with his face that close to your core. This wasn’t a new experience to you, but his intense gaze coupled with your mingled desires made you shy away from it. 
“Ah, ah.” He tuts, following it with a sharp nip on your thigh. You startle at the love bite, and look back down at him, face hot with embarrassment. 
“Eyes on me, shatz. Don’t hide from your desire.” 
Your heart thumps wildly against your ribcage as you watch him slowly delve between your legs, gasping when he licks a broad stripe up your cunt. 
“I can feel how desperate you are for it, little one. Is all this for me?” He asks, that insufferably attractive cocky grin making an appearance once more. 
Any witty remark you’d had loaded dies in your throat as he turns his attention to your clit. 
“Yes,” you sigh out, breathless. “All for you, only you.” 
You’re fighting to keep your eyes on him, to stay coherent, while he looks like he’s enjoying a gourmet meal between your legs–insatiable in the pursuit of your pleasure. 
All too soon you’re reaching your high, coming apart with his mouth still firmly attached to your sex. You instinctively reach for his hair, and he lets out a groan as you tug at the luscious strands. 
He unlatches himself from you and brings himself to face level, leaving open-mouthed kisses until he reaches your lips–tongue diving into your mouth to let you taste yourself once more. 
Removing your hands from his hair, you trail them over his chest, down, and under his shirt as he lets you remove it with a twinkle in his eyes. You feel a pang of shyness as you reach for his belt, and his hands cover your own, guiding you in its removal. 
With a hammering heart, you reach into his trousers to remove his member, gasping at the heat of it when your hand makes contact. He must be growing impatient, as his trousers are gone in the blink of an eye, your hand still firmly wrapped around him, beginning to gently pump, applying light pressure that makes him hiss through his teeth. You’re overcome with the urge to lick it, to once again taste him as he’s tasted you–but he interrupts your pursuit, and you whine. 
“Next time, little one. We’ve both waited long enough, wouldn’t you say?” 
All you can do is nod, entranced once again by his eyes, his lips, his chest. 
He chuckles wryly, before giving you a searing kiss, all teeth and tongues. You’re trying to catch your breath when he pulls away, and he moves to position himself behind you. With one hand on your waist and the other in your hair, you feel the light scrape of his fangs over your neck, but the fear is gone, only desire remains. 
“Should you feel pain you do not want, tell me. Whether through the bond or with your words. I expect you to be vocal for me, little one. I want to hear your pleasure as well as feel it. Understood?” 
You nod enthusiastically, the anticipation washing over you and threatening to drag you under. 
He tuts, and gives your hair a slight yank. 
“Use your words.” 
“Yes, I understand, sir.” 
“Helmut, little one. That’s the name you’re to cry out when I make you fall apart over, and over again. You’ll be using it more than once before the sun comes up.” 
“He-Helmut” you manage to stutter out as he bottoms out inside of you, allowing you only the faintest of moments to adjust before he sets a punishing pace. The hand that was in your hair moves to grip your throat, keeping your back flush against his chest as he takes his pleasure from you; his hand around your throat lightly gripping but never fully squeezing: a lingering reminder of your promise to him.  
The pleasure is unlike any other you’ve experienced: he seems to know exactly what you want, what you need without having to say it–his own desire mingles with yours in a way that’s almost unexplainable. You can tell he’s trying to hold back from hurting you, afraid of breaking you in his pursuit of pleasure, so you turn your face to him to capture his lips in a messy kiss, hand reaching up to cup his jaw. 
When you part lips once more, you whisper: 
“I’m yours, Helmut. All that you have to give, I can take it.” 
He must sense the truth in your words, as his crimson eyes flash before he pushes your face into the mattress quickly, hands moving to bruise your hips as he sets a downright painful pace that leaves you clawing the sheets as you feel his pleasure mix with your pain. 
You can feel through your bond that he must be close to his climax, as he reaches forward to bring you flush to him once more, one of his hands coming to rub practiced circles on your clit while the other tangles in your hair, craning your neck and exposing the column of your throat to him. 
“Mine. Just as I am yours,” he whispers. 
He places a heated kiss to your throat before sinking his fangs into your neck, and insurmountable pleasure rocks through you, as if your own ecstasy had mixed with Helmut’s and was now washing over you in wave after wave of euphoria. 
His hips begin to stutter as he reaches his own climax, spilling inside of you. He stills, fangs lingering in your neck, lapping up the blood as it trickles out of the wound. Slowly, he removes his fangs, and licks away every errant drop from your shoulders, your neck, your breasts. 
You’re utterly exhausted, sleep beginning to tug at your eyelids already. He chuckles and brings you to lay against his chest, your core still fluttering around him with aftershocks. 
“Sleep, little one. You have a long day ahead of you.” 
You begin to drift off in his arms as his thumb gently strokes your pulse point. 
129 notes · View notes
orphicrose · 27 days
Note
Hello! May I request some fem!reader x Viktor from Arcane please? Perhaps some late night studying with him, fluff all the way!! Do whatever gets you feeling creative, thank you! <3
Arcane augmentation (Viktor x Fem!Reader)
Thank you for the request! I did my best with this one.
Tags : Fluff
--------------------------------
Viktor was painfully addicted to his work, after how much success his projects had finally received. Hextech was the most advanced that Piltover had experienced yet, and he wasn't about to let it it fester. No. He dreamed big.
Finding himself engrossed in his studies once again in the comfort of his lab. Fidgeting with the glowing orb every now and then, viewing its behavior, then jotting a scribble of notes in his book as fast as his thoughts rolled in.
"Back at it again, Vik?" her warm smile could be felt without him having to turn to look at her. "what brings you to the lab at this hour?"
"I find solace in the pursuit of knowledge" Viktor confessed. Tapping his pen against the desk as his eyes followed the whirs and tumbles of the blue stone inside the metal contraption. "And it seems we share a similar passion"
Y/n took a chair next to his, eyes lighting up at the specimen in front of her. "What are you studying" she struggled to look away from its beauty.
"I am delving into the intricacies of arcane augmentation" he motioned towards the doodles and math on his page, face becoming more ambitious as he spoke.
"using this?" She pointed to the glowing power source on the table
"Yes, It is the foundation of hextech" He turned to face her in his chair, mapping her face while she was unaware of the stares.
They had known each other for quite some time, studying in university together on the same course. And sticking with each other in the field of science. Y/n became a great scientist of her own nature, but after hearing of his project she couldn't help but join their team. His passion of conjoining magic to their day to day. And his further passion of improving the under city.
Her hand left her side, towards the orb, only to be taken in by Viktor's. "Don't touch it, we still don't know what it will do to human skin when active" his fingers mindlessly stroked the soft skin on the back of her hand. He put her hand down when he realized, hurrying to his feet as best he can. A beautifully carved stick assisting him.
"Watch this"
He hobbled over to another desk sat in the corner of the room, turning a metal handle till it clicked. A few seconds passed of nothingness. But then the orb began to spin vigorously, causing y/n to jump out of her chair and back. The cage around it lowered and the orb was set loose, giving out hues of sparkling waves. Viktor stood watching her expressions as their feet slowly moved off the ground. The waves stopping when gravity ceased to exist.
"Viktor?" A half worried voice expelled from the young lady, looking as if she was trying to swim in the air and failing.
"Don't worry" His voice soothed her, coming from behind as his arms wrapped around her to stable her. "This is one of the many wonders of hextech, I just haven't completely figured out how it would be useful yet." He laughed softly, spinning her in the air to see his face.
She soon realized there was no danger and let herself enjoy the brief moment of flying. "This is amazing, we are floating!" She leapt backwards, letting the air move her around the room as if she was a fish experiencing the sea for the first time. The two danced together, two meters off the ground. Viktor reveling in the freedom on his legs, appreciating being able to move them.
They soon began their descent as the magic wore off. Somehow managing to land on their feet.
"That was amazing, you're amazing" y/n turned to the man in front of her. He chuckled, looking away as a small amount of red painted his cheeks.
"Would you care to help me? Study, i mean." He motioned towards the tech back on his desk like it was before. Y/n excitedly sitting back in her chair and moving it closer in to the desk.
"I'd love nothing more"
The two sat together, chatting away till the sun began to dawn on them. Not even needing coffee to keep them awake, their passions and their good companies being caffein enough.
Math scribbled on hundreds of pieces of paper. Their goal, figure out how to duplicate the mass. Viktor had a theory that this energy source was somehow alive, which meant the organism could be duplicated. Like a plant. By suspending the organism in a growth medium, like agar, you can duplicate or grow a plant. He just needed to figure out how to access its 'DNA', considering it was sealed in a hard case.
"Wait" y/n grabbed his note book, bringing it closely to her face. "Your math... it's wrong. That 'x' shouldn't be there" She pointed to the mistake on the page, Viktor's face showing the puzzle pieces in his head clicking together.
"That's why it didn't work" He mumbled to himself, hurriedly working to fix his mistake. "You're a genius, y/n"
His eyes met hers, both realizing their mystery had been solved. Figuring out how to shatter the shell around it safely.
They found themselves in each others arms in a tight embrace, one they had needed for a long time. Not pulling away when they noticed the bold move.
Viktor cleared his throat, looking down at her in his arms. "Would you care to test out our theory with me?"
"Absolutely"
29 notes · View notes
Text
Beautiful People with Beautiful Problems
Masterlist
Pairing: Jake x Reader
Genre: Angst, hurt, ex!Jake
Context: Y/N, a very successful singer-songwriter was close friends with the members of Greta Van Fleet for several years. She had a tumultuous yet terribly passionate relationship with Jake that ended painfully (you’ll see in other chapters). They find themselves forced to share a space once more as they the hardship of a lifetime.
Disclaimer: English isn’t my native language, so I apologize in advance for mistakes and awkward wordings to come. Also, I guess this fic could be triggering for some because it’s kind of sad and angsty.
Word Count: 5.6k
Previous Track: Hits Different (3 months prior) coming soon..
Chapter soundtrack: Beautiful people with Beautiful Problems – Lana Del Rey
(By the way, for every ‘Chapter Soundtrack’, basically the idea is that it’s a song that YN eventually wrote with that chapter of her life in mind)
Blue is the color of the planet from the view above Long live our reign, long live our love Green is the planet from the eyes of a turtle dove 'Til it runs red, runs red with blood. We get so tired, and we complain 'Bout how it's hard to live It's more than just a video game. But we're just beautiful people with beautiful problems, Beautiful problems, God knows we've got them But we gotta try Every day and night.
Alright, let’s get into this.
_____
The sterile white walls of the corridor seemed to close in on Jake as he sat in the rigid chair, his eyes fixed on a point in the distance. A million thoughts raced through his mind. It had been eleven agonizing hours since chaos had come to him in the form of a simple phone call, yet the passing of time felt immeasurable.
His eyes remained fixed, unblinking, as if trying to anchor himself in a reality that slipped further away with each passing moment. The incessant ringing in his ear was interrupted only by the distant sounds of the hospital—monitors beeping rhythmically, nurses’ distant footsteps, and the low hum of neon lighting.
Meanwhile, Josh hadn’t stopped pacing around, his every step echoing the restlessness within. His vibrant energy, which usually animated stages, now manifested as a desperate plea for time to reverse its relentless march.
In this tense atmosphere, Danny had accompanied Karen to the chapel just a floor down. The chapel offered solace and a quiet refuge, a place where they could seek a moment of respite amid the chaos.
It was then, after hours of solemn silence, that Josh's voice cut through the stillness, a sudden and stark interruption to the quiet.
"…?" his voice echoed in the hall, a call that hung in the air like a fragile thread. Jake, coming out of his daze, strained to make out the words. Whipping his head around, he was met with the sight of Josh's back, frozen in place. He tilted his head, trying to get a proper look at what had left his twin in such a state.
"H-how did you-?" Josh said, his words carrying a weight of both surprise and longing. That's when Jake caught a glimpse of her silhouette approaching.
There she was, as if materializing from the depths of his subconscious. Y/N. Hair soaked with rain; she stood pale against the stark hospital lighting. Her presence was almost surreal, a bittersweet mirage in the bleak environment.
"I came as soon as I heard," she said after a moment, her words a soft cadence that carried a hint of nervousness. Jake's heart skipped a beat at the sound of her voice, a melody from another time.
 She stopped a few feet away from the twins, a fragile bridge of unspoken emotions spanning the gap between them. The air thickened with a mixture of uncertainty.
Josh, unable to contain his emotions, immediately sprang forward, his movements a cascade of relief. He enveloped her in a tight embrace, as if afraid she might vanish if he let go. Jake watched as his brother mumbled words, too weak to be discerned. His head was buried in the crook of Y/N's neck, seeking solace in the familiarity of her presence.
She had been sorely missed, and her arrival was a balm to the collective ache that had settled within the Greta boys. A familiar face offering the comfort they had greatly needed.
Josh eventually let go of her, his grip reluctantly loosening. She caressed his face gently. With a pivot, she turned her attention to Jake, who still sat there, dumbfounded, unable to find the right words. His throat felt dry, the echoes of the past and present proving to be too much for his brain to register.
"It's good to see your face," Y/N said in a hushed, uncertain voice, her eyes locked onto his. The air hung heavy. She noticed the weariness in his eyes; he noticed the hint of tears in hers.
Jake found himself unable to form a response, his mouth hanging open for a few seconds. Coming to the rescue, Josh broke the heavy silence.
"I'll go get Ma’ and Danny. They'll be happy to see you, Y/N," he said, offering a gentle smile. It was an eerie thing, seeing Josh so- subdued. He turned on his heels and disappeared behind the fireproof doors, leaving YN and his brother alone in the echoing hallway.
Jake's gaze returned to the floor, a myriad of emotions churning beneath the surface. Y/N, on the other hand, looked up at the ceiling, blinking away a couple of tears that threatened to spill over. The silence was thick, punctuated only by the distant sounds of hospital activity.
Y/N took a hesitant step forward, bridging the physical and emotional gap that had widened over the past two years.
"So," she paused, her voice betraying a palpable nervousness, "How is he?" she eventually asked, the weight of her words suspended in the hushed air,
"Uh," Jake bit his lower lip nervously, "he—he’s stable." A tense pause followed, the unspoken fears lingering between them, “he’s not in the ICU anymore.”
"Can we see him?" she asked.
"Yeah," Jake responded.
"Can I…?" she hesitated, her question trailing off, an unsaid plea hanging in the air.
"Sure, yeah,” Jake nodded as he got up, “it’s- huh, it’s right over there." Jake led her to the door of the room, but stopped with his hand on the handle, a moment of hesitation in his movements. "Just- be prepared," he started, his words laden with a heavy solemnity, "he’s—" He refrained from finishing, the unspeakable truth too much to articulate. Yet, in that shared silence, she understood. It was bad.
He opened the door, and with a gentle gesture, let her enter first. Nothing could’ve prepared her for the sight that greeted her. Instinctively, she turned back around. Her eyes squeezed shut as if to shield herself from the harsh reality within the room.
An echo of uncomfortable familiarity lingered as YN fought with the instinct to bury her head in Jake’s chest for comfort.
 In the old days, that's what she would've done, a reflex born from the intimacy they once shared. But now, the gap between them was more than physical. She didn't turn to him for solace, and he refrained from offering it.
His own hand discreetly flexed with tension. He would've instinctively wrapped his arms around her in a silent promise that everything would be okay. A gesture as natural as the rhythm of their heartbeats.
But it wasn't the old days anymore.
They just stood there, facing each other, neither of them certain of how exactly to navigate those newfound boundaries.
Her labored breathing, the only sound accompanying that of the machines behind her, served as a painful punctuation to the heavy silence.
The irony didn’t escape them—the boy lying in the hospital bed, in any other circumstance, would've been the one to make a snarky remark about the awkward nature of the situation. But now, the absence of his humor left nothing but a void.
After a beat, Jake settled for a simple nod of acknowledgment. Y/N nodded back. Time to be brave. Steeling herself, she took a deep breath and finally turned back around.
The sight was just as jarring the second time around, a heart-wrenching contrast to the memories she held so dear. He laid there, connected to endless machines, a shadow of the vibrant person she’d always seen.
As Y/N reached the bedside, her throat tightened with emotion. She delicately reached out to brush a strand of hair away from the boy’s pallid features.
"Hi, Sammy," she whispered with a quiver of her lips.
The room became a time capsule, holding the echoes of their past — a place where everything they’d gone through still lingered, if only in the recesses of memory.
Karen suddenly stormed into the room; her entrance heralded by the determined click of her boots on the hospital floor. Following closely behind were Josh and Danny.
“Y/N, honey,” Karen exclaimed tearfully as she opens her arms wide. The sight of her long-lost daughter had brought an immediate welling of emotion.
“Mrs. Kiszka,” Y/N said, her own eyes shimmering with tears, instantly engulfed in Karen’s bone-crushing hug. "I'm so glad to see you."
“You shouldn’t have flown in, pumpkin, I read you’re a busy bee." Karen continued, pulling back slightly but still holding Y/N at arm's length, "Kelly and I saw you on TV just the other day. Here, let me get a good look at you." She took Y/N’s face in her hands, concern etched on her features. "Are you sleeping properly? You know—"
“Karen, do you mind?" Danny interrupted, a laugh escaping YN’s lips at Mama Kiszka’s rapid-fire questions.
“Danny,” Y/N smiled, turning to the drummer.
“Hey, stranger,” Danny greeted her with a warm hug. They exchanged a knowing smile as they separated.
“Aren’t you tired?” Karen resumed her rapid inquiries, “The flight from the city is no piece of cake. And you must be starving, too! Let’s go get you some food-”
“Ma,” Josh interjected, taking charge, “why don’t you take a seat?” He quickly brought a chair from the corner of the room for his mom to sit in.
 "Right,” said Danny, “You three stay here, YN and I will go to the cafeteria to get everyone some snacks,” he suggested. He ushered Y/N out of the room, giving the Kiszkas a moment of privacy.
__________
In the hospital corridor, Danny and Y/N silently made their way to the cafeteria, the sterile lights casting a harsh glow on the linoleum floor.
“Is Ronnie flying in?” Y/N finally broke the silence, her voice a tentative breach of the awkward quietness. She’d been surprised by the absence of the one Kiszka sister.
“Yeah, she should be here tomorrow,” Danny responds, his gaze fixed on the patterned tiles beneath their feet.
“She must be so worried,” Y/N remarked, her voice tinged with genuine concern.
“We all are,” Danny admitted, tense.
As they approached the cafeteria, the low hum of voices and the clatter of trays provided a backdrop to their conversation.
 Y/N noticed a cluster of people gathered inside. In a practiced move born from several years of experience, she swiftly pulled the hood of her sweater over her head. It had become a routine, a shield against the prying eyes and unwanted attention that often accompanied her public persona.
Y/N was acutely aware of the potential for added stress and intrusion that her presence might bring. She'd been through enough to know that sometimes fame doesn’t only attract well-wishers.
“So, how are you doing?” Y/N asked, trying to navigate the conversation away from the heaviness of the present moment, “apart from this, of course. How’s the family?”.
Danny, for a moment, allowed a genuine smile to soften his features. "We're hanging in there," he responded.
The mention of family opened a door to a broader conversation, a chance for them to discuss the mundane aspects of life amidst the current turmoil. Danny shared snippets of their busy lives, mentioning the band's ongoing recording sessions.
Then, with a teasing glint in his eye, he continued, "But clearly we haven’t been nearly as busy as you, Miss Time Magazine’s Songwriter of the Year." His playful tone carried a gentle mocking of the prestigious title she had been awarded just a week prior.
 “Oh, you saw that?” Y/N stuttered in surprise, looking down in embarrassment. “It’s nothing, really, just some silly—”
“Hey, now, not to me, okay?” Danny playfully nudged her, and she smiled in response. “Come on, it’s pretty huge. We’re all proud of you.”
 “Thanks, Danny.” Y/N said, a slight blush creeping onto her cheeks.
The conversation pivoted to the challenges of her newfound prominence. Y/N opened up about the overwhelming press attention she'd faced over the past couple of years. She’d always been quite popular, even before they’d first met, but her album sales had soared to new heights, and with that success came a deluge of PR work.
Ironically, her music had blossomed even more since Jake and her had called it quits, her songs becoming a canvas for her struggle.
The world seemed terribly entertained by her personal misery; forever eager to dissect every lyric and interview for clues about her private life. Her fanbase had slowly descended into madness trying to figure out who had managed to damage America’s Sweetheart this much.
 The boys were among the few people on earth who held the key to decoding every verse and every chorus she'd written. There was never a chance to hide behind designer stage outfits and photo-op smiles when they were around. They knew what lay underneath it all.
Y/N had sought solace in moving away, believing her secrets would be hers alone. However, the vulnerability she’d tried to escape was now staring back at her in the familiar faces of the musicians she’d shared years of her life with.
Y/N and Danny weaved through the various stations, their hands slowly filling with a mix of drinks and snacks.
Still engaged in conversation, Danny offered heartfelt compliments on Y/N's recent albums, a sentiment he was glad to finally express in person.
Y/N resisted the urge to ask whether the whole band had listened to her recent works. Her songs had after all told a carefully crafted tapestry, woven with the threads of their shared narrative. Yet, a hesitance held her back and she decided not to ask, hoping to spare Danny from anymore awkwardness.
Amidst the array of snacks, the drummer’s hand instinctively reached for a bag of chocolate pretzel sticks. There was a subtle pause, a fraction of a second when realization rippled across his expression. Y/N caught the fleeting moment but chose not to comment, her throat closing.
Sam’s favorites.
The elephant in the room no longer possible to ignore, Danny broke the silence. "He'll probably wake up, soon enough." His words a quiet acknowledgment of the uncertain path ahead.
Y/N sensed the drummer’s struggle to maintain composure in the face of his best friend's current condition. In a silent show of solidarity, she squeezed his hand. “Of course,” she murmured. Of course.
__________
A few hours later, in the crowded waiting area, a lady from the hospital staff approached, holding a bag containing Sam's recovered belongings from the car wreck. The atmosphere was heavy as she listed the items.
"…and there's also a jacket as well as someone's wallet," she finished, her expression sympathetic. The mention of the last item piqued the curiosity of the gathered family members.
" ’A’ wallet?” Karen inquired, her concern shifting momentarily to the peculiar discovery, “Whose wallet?"
The lady glanced at the contents of the bag before answering, "A certain Johnny… B. Goode."
The name hung in the air for a moment before a ripple of recognition passed through Y/N, Jake, Josh and Danny. Their faces lit up with nervous laughter, uncontrollable and infectious.
Oh, Sammy, they thought.
Back when he was still underage, Sam had scored himself a fake ID from some sketchy old man in Detroit, and for some reason, he’d picked 'Johnny B. Goode' as his alias. He thought it was simply brilliant and he carried the name proudly as they went out drinking and partying on their first few tours. Apparently, he’d never gotten rid of the damn thing.
Tears started gathering in Y/N’s eyes as she clutched her stomach from the sheer hilarity of the situation. The boys joined in, their semi-contained laughter echoing through the hallway.
The absurdity of finding the relic of Sam's youthful eccentricities in such a serious situation had been the breaking point of their sanity. You’d almost think Sam had planted it there for that very purpose. Karen, bewildered by the sudden outburst, repeated her question, "Whose wallet is it?"
Amidst the laughter, Y/N managed to compose herself enough to blurt out, “I think you’ll need to see that one for yourself, Mrs. Kiszka.”
Karen grabbed the bag and opened the wallet, a look of confusion on her face as she laid her eyes on the photo of what appeared to be her youngest son at the ripe age of 18, peach fuzz and all.
“That’s-” she started.
“Johnny B. Goode,” Josh cut her off.
“The one and only,” Jake finished, a slight smile on his face.
Karen sighed, taking a closer look at the thing. “Born 1958, huh?” she shook her head with a smile, “you kids…”
The family continued to giggle uncontrollably, finding comfort in the shared memories of simpler times. To onlookers, they might have seemed like they were on the verge of a mental breakdown, but heaven knows it was a much-needed break from the tension.
__________
In the sterile, dimly lit hospital, the passage of time was marked by the monotonous ticking of a clock. The family had endured about 15 more hours filled with bad coffee, back-breaking naps, and the mind-numbing task of counting ceiling tiles. The weight of worry still hung in the air, making every passing moment feel like an eternity.
As the fatigue settled in, Y/N decided to break the stagnant routine. Standing up, she announced, "Alright, I'll go get you all some clean clothes." Her gaze shifted to the boys, a practical concern in her eyes. "Somebody give me their keys. I took a cab here from the airport."
Jake visibly tensed, ready to intervene, but Josh beat him to it.
 "You shouldn't be driving,” he said, reaching out to grab her arm gently “It's dark out, and raining."
"I'll be fine, don't worry," she reassured him.
"Let one of us drive you," Josh insisted, the unspoken concern for Y/N evident, given the circumstances of Sam's accident.
« Honey, you haven’t slept in almost three days straight, » she retorted, « I think I’m our safest bet here. »
The strained air was palpable as Josh, a pillar of concern, suggested, "One of us should come with you, at least."
Determined, Y/N dismissed the idea, her voice carrying a quiet authority. "No, you all stay here, okay?" Her gaze flickered from one concerned face to another. Who knows what could happen in the coming hour. "I'll be quick and careful, I promise."
Josh conceded with a sigh, the reluctance evident as he retrieved the keys from his pocket. "It's the orange Mustang, parked out front."
Y/N grabbed the keys, "Right, uh, is the address still the same?"
Josh hesitated, "Oh, yeah, we haven’t moved headquarters since-" His unfinished sentence carried a silent acknowledgment of the tangled threads of their past. We haven’t moved since you walked out of our lives. "Uh, I'll text you the address right now, just in case."
 "Thanks,” YN nodded timidly, “I'll text you when I get there," she promised, punctuating the words with a quick peck on Josh's cheek.
As she turned to leave, a peculiar sensation halted her, a magnetic pull toward a concerned-looking Jake. Against her own volition, she pivoted toward him, their eyes meeting in silent exchange. "I'll be back in a flash," she assured him with a soft smile. She felt silly. The unspoken need for mutual reassurance apparently remained, even after all this time.
As Y/N walked away, the dull hospital lighting cast elongated shadows across the hallway. Her steps echoed against the sterile tiles, each one a rhythmic beat marking her departure.
 Josh glanced at his brother, who stood like a sentinel, a silent observer caught in the undertow of emotions. "She'll be fine," Josh said, offering a reassuring smile.
Jake, however, remained silent, a conflicted expression etched on his face. His gaze lingered on the spot where Y/N had vanished as the residual ache of their shared history hung in the air.
_________
The familiar crunch of gravel beneath her boots accompanied Y/N as she approached the quaint, weather-worn house, tucked away in a quiet neighborhood. Y/N's fingers fumbled with the keys, unlocking the door with a familiarity that transcended the passage of time.
As the door creaked open, a flood of nostalgia rushed over her. The living room, adorned with mismatched furniture that had seen better days, radiated warmth despite its worn-out appearance. The heart of the house, their makeshift recording studio, beckoned from the end of the hall.
Y/N's steps carried her through the dimly lit corridor, where framed pictures captured stolen moments frozen in time. Each snapshot told a story — candid shots of Jake lost in a guitar riff, Josh deep in contemplation over lyrics or Danny playfully wielding knitting needles as drumsticks. She felt her heart fill with warmth as she took in the fact that they hadn’t taken them down even after she’d left. She was the one who had taken and framed most of them, to which Jake had rolled his eyes at the time. Interior design is not Rock n’ Roll, YN.
The studio, a hallowed ground of creativity, hummed with a quiet energy. Instruments, cables, and sheets of music lay scattered — remnants of countless sessions where melodies took shape and lyrics found their voice.
As she ascended the creaky stairs, memories echoed in each step.
With her mission in mind, Y/N ventured into the individual realms of Danny's and Josh's rooms. Each space, a unique reflection of its occupant, revealed the essence of their personalities and the bonds forged within these walls.
She approached Sammy's room, the youngest Kiszka's energy palpable even before crossing the threshold. Upon opening the door, the room revealed itself as a kaleidoscope of color and controlled chaos. Musical instruments and sheet music lay scattered, a testament to the youngest Kiszka's exuberant spirit.
She walked to his wardrobe. Inside, a mosaic of photographs was lazily duck taped onto the mahogany wood. A treasure trove of memories. Among the snapshots, a specific one caught Y/N's eye. The image portrayed a slightly younger, carefree version of themselves, their Halloween costumes and laughter frozen in time. The nostalgia that washed over her was tinged with a pang of sorrow, a poignant reminder of the distance that had grown between them all since.
Y/N selected some of Sammy's clothes and shoved them in a duffle bag along with Josh’s and Danny’s.
Hesitancy gripped her as she stepped into Jake's room. The room, once a sanctuary, now held only the imprints of their intertwined lives, an indelible mark that time had failed to erase.
 The bed, a haven for whispered confessions and shared laughter, stood as the silent witness to countless nights spent together, reveling in each other’s warmth.
A row of guitars, leaning against the corner, told tales of impromptu jam sessions and the gentle strumming that had often served as a lullaby.
The empty shelf, once adorned with books she had left behind, spoke volumes about the spaces they had carved out for each other within this room.
Among the carefully arranged mess, Y/N noticed the mark left by the picture frame that used to sit on his desk. The absence left a void, and she couldn't help but fixate on the faint outline.
As she reached in the cupboard for his clothes, the overwhelming aroma momentarily arrested her senses.  Each piece carried his scent.
Attempting to brush off the rush of sentimentality, Y/N focused on the task at hand. With a determined efficiency, she shoved clothes in another duffle bag, before leaving behind the room that held the echoes of their shared history.
She left the house, casting one last fleeting glance at the photographs on the walls, a silent acknowledgment of the friendships that time had altered but not erased.
She stepped back into the pouring rain, yet the fragrance seemed to somehow linger, a ghost of the past that clung to her clothes.
_______
Restlessness gnawed at Jake as they all awaited Y/N's return. Rain drummed incessantly outside, providing an unwelcome soundtrack to his growing impatience. His leg bounced in a nervous rhythm, an outward expression of the turmoil churning within.
Josh, attuned to Jake's silent struggles, noticed the fidgety display but refrained from commenting. In the quiet of the room, he pondered the complex weave of emotions that tied his brother to Y/N.
“Give her a moment," Josh advised eventually, as Jake's impatience drove him to his feet. The hospital room felt stifling, and Jake muttered something about needing a drink as he retreated. "We're in a hospital, you can’t—" Josh begins, rolling his eyes but his brother cut him off with irritation.
"I just need a break,” Jake dismissed him, “it’s no big deal."
Josh sighed, “Would it kill you, for once in your life, to-”
“I’m back!” Y/N's joyful voice broke through the air, announcing her return before the tension could escalate further.
Jake, who moments ago sought refuge from the confined space, suddenly felt like he could breathe again as Y/N's voice reached them.
Josh, observing from across the room, caught the subtle relaxation in Jake's shoulders at the sight of Y/N stepping into the hall, a duffel bag in each hand. The momentary relief didn't go unnoticed by the perceptive twin. They eagerly relieved Y/N from the bags she was holding, their expressions grateful.
Seeking reassurance, YN queried about whether there’d been any progress. Their somber response prompted a subtle play of fatigue and concern that she skillfully concealed.
"Let’s give it time," Y/N remarked, a measured optimism in her tone as they collectively faced the uncertain hours ahead.
________
Y/N was drifting in and out of sleep in her chair, unable to find a comfortable position. She glanced around, searching for a momentary escape from the heavy atmosphere. Her eyes fell on a nearby waiting area, and in the corner sat an old piano, a relic of the hospital's attempt to bring comfort to visitors.
Memories flooded back – countless hours with Sammy, sat around the piano, creating melodies that echoed through the band house. It was a spot where they’d always found refuge amid the chaos that often accompanied their lives.
Y/N hesitated for a moment, then decided to approach the instrument. She ran her fingers over the keys, the cool touch a familiar sensation. The hospital's sterile surroundings seemed to fade away as she discreetly lost herself in simple notes.
Unbeknownst to Y/N, Jake watched from a distance. Music had always had a magnetic effect on them, a shared love that transcended everything else.
YN eventually settled at the piano stool. As her fingers gracefully danced over the keys, the familiar chords of Carol King’s "You've Got a Friend" filled the air. Jake smiled sadly. One of Sam’s favorites. Memories of countless evenings spent listening to the Tapestry record flooded their mind.
Unexpectedly, Karen's soulful voice joined in, the lyrics a comforting embrace amid the uncertainty. Ronnie, Josh, and Danny soon followed suit, creating an impromptu harmony that gently resonated through the hospital corridor.
Others joined in, a spontaneous gathering of voices seeking solace in the music. Some swayed to the rhythm, others nodded along, and a few simply close their eyes, lost in the gentle melody.
Detached from the crowd, Jake watched from a distance, his thoughts still a whirlwind.
The piano, a momentary escape from the harsh reality of the hospital, transformed into a vessel for collective strength. A poignant reminder that, despite the challenges, the bond forged through music remained unbroken.
As the final notes of the song faded away, Jake, physically and emotionally drained, succumbed to the weight of exhaustion. His eyelids slowly drooped and, for the first time in over 70 hours, the young man finally drifted off to sleep.
The hospital corridor, once filled with music, now came back to a serene quietness, broken only by the rhythmic sounds of Jake's steady breathing.
Observing him from a distance, Y/N noticed the subtle change in his posture. His tense features relaxed, and the lines of worry that etched his face seemed to soften in the gentle glow of the hospital lights.
Quietly stepping closer, Y/N pulled a blanket from a nearby chair. With careful tenderness, she covered Jake's slumbering figure, ensuring he was shielded from the chill of the hospital air.
With a last glance, Y/N stepped away, leaving him to the comfort of dreams, momentarily sheltered from the tumult of reality.
_________
Another day unfolded in the hushed waiting area. Jake was sitting in a chair, weariness etched on his features. The passage of time had drained color from his complexion, leaving him paler and more fragile with each hour that passed. Y/N’s eyes flickered to him every so often. Dark circles lingered under his tired eyes, telling tales of sleepless nights and endless worry.
“You haven’t been eating,” Y/N observed, her voice a gentle ripple amid the quiet, as she crouched in front of him.
“Haven’t been hungry,” he replied, shifting into his seat. His gaze remained fixed on a distant point on the wall.
YN retrieved something from her purse. "Your mum and I drove by a gas station earlier, I couldn't resist," she smiled, placing a bag of powered Donettes on his lap.
A faint half-smile graced his lips at the sight. The nostalgic snack had been all they’d eaten on tour a couple years prior. “Come on,” she urged, nudging the bag toward him. “You need energy,” YN insisted, “or shall I tell the nurses to prepare an IV?” she challenged. YN wasn’t about to let another Kiskza end up in a hospital bed.
Frustrated by his lack of response, she continued. “He wouldn’t want you to starve, you know,” her eyes studied him intently, “in fact, you'd better eat these before he wakes up, leave no traces, or else we’ll be in trouble.”
Jake scoffed, attempted amusement dancing in his tired eyes. The composed exterior he’d been wearing for the past few days was, despite his best efforts, beginning to unravel, revealing the raw vulnerability beneath.
“Hey,” she murmured gently, sensing the cracks in his carefully crafted walls. She reached for his hands as he looked down in embarrassment, “it’s okay.”
Jake let out a shaky breath, his eyes glistening.
“I let him leave,” he eventually confessed, his tearful gaze drifting away, “I knew he was fucking hammered, but I-I didn’t—” he paused, clearing his throat, “he’s my little brother for Christ’s sake,” his voice broke, the admission hanging in the air, laden with remorse and guilt.
Understanding clicked into place for Y/N. Beyond lingering in her head, the memories of their reckless habits were etched into her very skin. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around Jake’s neck, as soft sobs racked through his body.
A sudden commotion disrupted the fragile peace of the waiting area as nurses rushed past, a cart in tow, followed by two white coats. Jake and Y/N exchange a glance. Their concern mirrored in each other's eyes, and they rose to their feet, instinctively moving towards the room they knew to be Sam's. The medical staff hurried inside, prompting their steps to quicken.
Josh stood outside the room, visible weariness etched on his face. He was rubbing his forehead with his hand. Beside him, Karen was clearly in distress, her words tumbling out incoherently amid tears. Jake and Y/N rushed toward them, a shared anxiety gripping their hearts.
"What’s going on?" Y/N implored, her voice tight with worry. Caught in the moment, she hadn't even noticed Jake holding her hand for dear life.
Karen's cries made it challenging for Josh to form a coherent response. His eyes were red, the weight of the situation heavy on his shoulders. “I-I don’t know,” he stammered, voice strained, "Sammy—he looked like-like he was choking or something, and shit started beeping everywhere. I don’t- I don’t know what happened."
Jake, driven by an urgent need to be with his brother, took a step towards the door, only to be gently pushed aside by a nurse. Her lips moved, uttering words he couldn't comprehend amid the ringing in his ears, drowning out the world around him.
Amid the escalating chaos, Jake's attempts to step forward became more frantic. Y/N, sensing his desperation, firmly pulled him back towards her, their hands still locked in a tight grip.
Jake’s breathing quickened, the fear in his eyes intensifying. As the panic started to overtake him, his gaze locked onto Y/N's.
Lowering his head, he pressed his forehead against hers. The panic attack was looming, but the warmth emanating from Y/N's presence provided a soothing balm.
As YN’s hand softly grazed his cheek, the hospital's frenetic energy slowly faded into the background. In the face of the unknown, their connection was still a lifeline, grounding Jake amidst the hurricane.
After a few minutes which, to them, might as well have been a few hours, the medical staff stepped out of the room. A doctor approached Karen, a stern expression on his face.
“It seems your son was rejecting his breathing tube,” he said, “tachycardia tends come along, it’s a lot for loved ones to witness, but generally more fear than harm.” He offered a tight-lipped smile as they all stood there speechless, unsure of what any of that had really meant.
“Anyway,” the doctor broke the silence again, “you can go in now. I’m sure he would like to see some familiar faces.”
They all froze, standing speechless.
“W-what?” Josh uttered.
“He’s awake,” the doctor stated with a shrug.
Josh sank to the floor as realization washed over him and Karen took the doctor in his arms who laughed, slightly taken aback. “He’s still on significant amounts of painkillers so he’ll be out of it for a while, but neurological functions seem intact, we’ll just need to keep a check for any brain swelling, and keep an eye on his ribs, but he should be fine.” He nodded, before walking away.
Jake, still in shock, turned to YN.
"Did you hear that?" she whispered with a gentle smile, "he's gonna be okay."
Her sense of reality coming back, she gently slipped her hand out of his grip and moved to help Josh off the floor. Jake remained frozen, his gaze following her as she approached his mom.
"Let's go see Sammy, now, shall we?"
Next Track: Long & Lost (same day) coming soon..
Masterlist
Hope you liked it! Once again, I am begging you all to interact and leave comments it makes me so happy to get feedback and reactions xxx
Also, this is only the beginning lol. I have a billion drafts for other chapters so stay tuned, peaceful army.
Taglist
@aintthatapity
35 notes · View notes
sirwow · 3 months
Text
back at it again with my very long au rambles. Long ramble about Logan and Hailey (and a bit of Lucia) au origin under the cut
Tumblr media
(This is copy and pasted from discord so there may be some format issues)
this is all happening around a year before the actual events of RD happening:
Logan and Lucia were both already friends at this point since they’d basically always been in the same classes together from elementary school. They had just come back to school after suffering the online hell of Covid tm so were readjusting. Logan was hopeful that his unlucky streak in school was over since they had gotten time away from school but was already getting bullied within the first hour by his old bullies. Even when his solace of after school dance came around a week later, it was clear all the girls had made a clique, excluding him. Lucia was still there by his side but only on the sidelines since she decided dance wasn’t for her. The group did have one new girl though, being Hailey. She was in Logan’s classes but he didn’t really pay much mind to her till the first day of dance. He was dreading having another passive aggressive bully seeing she was already popular with everyone else in dance. Practice started n since it seemed the one other guy there had dropped out n Lucia wasn’t gonna do dance, Logan had no partner.
The group of girls were whispering and snickering to Hailey as the teacher tried to figure out a partner for Logan. When they asked if anyone wanted to be his partner, Hailey shyly spoke up and agreed to it as the other girls giggled. Introductions were awkward as any two 13 yrs would be but they quickly got moved off to do partner stuff together. Logan was obviously off put n Hailey was uncomfortable with what Logan thought was him. Until she broke the small talk by apologizing. The other girls told her to go see how “bad” he was but confessed she really didn’t think Logan was that bad. She thought he was really nice actually and seemed quite good at what he was doing.
So Logan is very relieved that Hailey doesn’t hate him out the gate and they significantly de-tense with each other- properly introducing themselves n chatting while dancing. Logan can feel the stares of the others when Hailey stays with him during break to meet Lucia. They do the usual hi and hellos before Lucia admitting she was worried Hailey was gonna be like the other girls to Logan. Hailey of course being the sweetheart she is tries to be a bit defensive of the people who she thinks are her immediate friends but seeing Logan’s face drop clues Hailey in on things. Before Lucia gets a chance to politely um actually Hailey, Hailey asks first meekly if they’re always like this to Logan and why. Lucia flat out tells her yes, and it’s all because he’s a guy in dance who’s a bit more introverted then most guys.
Hailey is pretty visibly angry but doesn’t say anything as break is called off to get back to dancing. Things go fine until the end of the after school class. Lucia already left a bit earlier since her dad got there so it was just Hailey and Logan. Hailey was asked to stick behind by the teacher to talk about things so Logan just waved bye before going outside pretty happy about seeming to make a friend. This was until he got cornered by the main 3 bossy girls of the dance group in a corner. They were chastising him for messing with the new girl and saying he shouldn’t get his hopes up. Hailey walked out shortly after and heard the commotion down the way. She quickly snuck up on the altercation, listening in. She was already pissed about what she was seeing but hearing Logan being told he’d never really belong there ticked her off. Breaking through the 3 girls, Hailey got inbetween them and Logan before launching into a barrage on them. They were all stunned, even Logan. The tirade ending with Hailey calling them assholes and to screw off (le gasp she said a scary curse word)
The girls backed up and ran off past Hailey n Logan when they heard the teacher coming. The teacher of course asked what the noise was all about but Hailey just played it cool saying everything was fine n nudged Logan to agree. The teacher sighed but accepted their answer n left them be. Both started walking off from school and started laughing about the whole situation. Logan thanked Hailey for helping him out there, she played it off as nothing big but Logan really made it clear how much that meant to him. Hailey was happy she could help. Logan’s house was close to school so before they parted ways, they traded numbers with each other to keep talking. Hailey had a long walk home but it wasn’t so bad knowing she had made a friend who seemed so genuine.
23 notes · View notes
f1adventures · 1 year
Text
Vicious | PG10
Pierre Gasly x fem!reader
'I should’ve known, all along I was only the next one'
Summary: She couldn’t really believe it when Pierre first told her, but then again she never believed she’d willingly sleep with him after either - a hookup list
Warnings: Language, French pet names, sexual themes but not completely explicit, Pierre being an asshole
Word count: 3.8k
Notes: Pierre girls, please don't come for me, I hope you enjoy!! Once again, a big shout out to Cay, for being the best and only beta reader i've ever had <3 Check out their work here x
Emails i can't send masterlist
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
One year, ten thousand bad moments
But it was dressed up in heated emotion
And I tried to look for the best in the worst
But like, fuck me, that caused a commotion
Her first year working in Alpha Tauri hadn’t gone the way she had originally hoped for. Bad race after bad race was starting to take a toll on the team and drivers and it certainly was not helping that Pierre’s penalties were piling up like a stack of laundry. From an outsider's point of view through the constant media posts, most fans would think everything is merry. Though once you look past the facade the team puts up, they would see the actual commotion. Regardless of the messy year, Y/N did try her best to find light in every situation. Words of affirmation left her lips like a prayer, joking when she knew the tension was too high and bringing her work friends coffee or snacks to keep everyone from imploding. 
Although her heart was in the right place, sometimes the emotions just ran too high and strong. People were saying things that were never meant to be said, it was suffocating sometimes but those were the highs and lows of Formula One. However, there was always one person that made her day just a little bit better: Pierre. The Alpha Tauri driver had a certain charm that Y/N couldn’t quite shake off. When things were going wrong or there was too much hassle around the garage, the girl found solace in the driver.
Albeit from afar it was still calming to see the way he worked around the chaos with how he was always put together, ready for every meeting or any question thrown his way. Taking a liking to him was pretty easy considering how he was always so charming and nice to everyone. There was always a smile on his face, Y/N appreciated that. The smile keeps everyone's spirits lifted, in the best and worst situations. Had she only known the commotion that would be caused for taking a liking to the driver, Y/N is unsure she ever would’ve approached him at all.
You're lucky I'm a private person
I've quietly carried your burden
And everyone thinks you're an angel
But shit, I would probably use different wording
As the 2022 season began, Y/N and Pierre had gone from first name basis to being work friends. He was always so open with her and adjusting to a new team was hard, he would know. Pierre tried his best to make her as comfortable as possible, had she known what exactly he was making her comfortable for, she would have steered as far away from him as possible. Friendly hugs turned into lingering touches, which turned into stolen glances across the garage and during debriefs. Then one day he had her behind the motorhome, after a particularly bad race in Miami, away from prying eyes… and the rest was history. 
-
“I beg your pardon,” Of all places Pierre could have started this conversation, it just had to be an hour before qualifying. Against the wall of his driver's room, she felt a sting across her cheek which then spread from the tender skin of her face and slowly throughout her body. 
It was like reality had slapped long-awaited sense into her, dumping cold water on the fantasy she had carefully crafted in the past couple of months. He couldn’t actually be serious. She pulled herself away, suddenly lacking the warmth his body was providing her, removing her arms from around his neck, she let them drop, her body suddenly feeling like it weighed a ton. 
“Do you remember my ex?” He’d ask the question so nonchalantly, backing away from her to lean against the massage table that was set up in his room. Of course, she remembered his ex. God, she was so beautiful and so, so sweet, wait– 
“Which one?” The question was genuine, the girl couldn't keep track of how many girls Pierre had been with, officially and unofficially. He didn’t respond to her question, although the flash of anger or surprise, she wasn’t entirely sure, covered his face for a moment. The moment not lasting more than a blink of an eye in which the expression was gone just as fast as it had appeared. 
Tightening the sleeves of his race suit around his waist, he crossed his arms, “She was one of them, but of course, I never told her that.” Ever the gentleman, his answer didn’t stop there. “You know what the problem with you girls is? You think because we give you the slightest bit of attention that we’re suddenly in love with you. Most of the time we just want a good fuck, but god forbid a guy only want sex right? I only made the job easier cherie. A list of all the women that are so desperate for attention that they’d be willing to do anything, even just casual sex.”
“You can’t possibly be serious?” The response came out more like a question than a statement. Her face contours between a mix of disappointment, anger, and disgust. The Pierre that stood in front of her looked so different from the one people saw on track. No, this Pierre was more cunning with a smirk so wicked it could give Satan a run for his money. What a fool she was. 
He let out a chuckle, “Oh c'mon ma bella, what? Did you think there was something more going on here?” He looked so smug, so unaffected by everything going on. God, was his driver's room always this small? 
“So what, just because you have some fuck list you think I'm gonna just sleep with you? I might have made many mistakes in my life Pierre Gasly, but sleeping with you will not be one of them.” Y/N held her head high, chin pointed in his direction, “Just because you're a Formula One driver doesn’t mean everyone's gonna just agree to what you have to say,” Anger, a feeling she was becoming accustomed to around the French driver, resurfacing through every bone in her body.
“You're so fucking lucky I'm a private person. You’re lucky that I haven’t run out of this damn room… God, all you drivers are the same with your big egos thinking you can just open your mouth and get whatever you want,” She was fuming, heart pounding in her ear. She can’t remember when she had walked across the room or when she stood chest to chest with the Frenchman, anger blinding her with her chest rising and dropping at a fast pace as her breaths grew into huffs. 
The temperature in the room increased, it was too hot. The space of the driver’s room was too small for two people and God, she was having a hard time breathing. But god forbid that stop the girl from giving the driver a piece of her fucking mind. Pierre didn’t seem fazed by the sudden burst of insults thrown his way or if he was, he was doing a damn good job hiding it. His blue eyes scanned her face, she couldn’t figure out what he was feeling… If that was even possible for him.
She took that as an opportunity to continue if he wasn’t going to talk. “You walk around like some god, but you know what you really are Pierre? Pathetic, sad, and lonely. Just because you lack investing emotions into romantic relationships doesn’t mean others do too… Forcing girls to have sex with you for what? Prove that you're still the shit? That you're way above everyone else to date? That all people will ever see you as some pathetic little hookup. Don’t you find it embarrassing that the only thing people really know you for is sex and which girl you’ll be seen with next? Don’t you think your friends get tired of defending your name every time a new scandal shows up? But it's always Pierre gets what Pierre wants, isn’t it? You have some nerve to bring me here and expect me to just do what you say. It's sad really, and I feel sorry for anyone who has to try and keep up with you and your bullshit, so screw you Pierre and your fuck list.” 
God, they really need bigger fucking rooms. Shoving his chest, although it didn’t impact his stance much, the girl in front of him said one last thing. “Everyone out there thinks you’re a fucking angel, ‘Oh no Pierre could never do any wrong’, but you know what you really are? Vicious, so fucking vicious”. 
Venom dripped from her lips as she spoke while the room spun and Pierre turned Y/N to face him. Now it was her body being pressed against the massage table, Pierre’s hands caging her in and the body heat radiating off of both of them only made the room hotter. His breath fanned her face, “Watch your fucking mouth cherie, I never fucking forced anyone to do anything. Before you go off on your high horse let me remind you mon amour, that it was you that came running to me… You don’t think I saw the way you looked at me when you first joined the team? Or the way your friends wouldn’t stop laughing when I walked by? Come on cherie, we’re adults not fucking high schoolers. Better yet, how about all the times when you’d conveniently end up where I was, taking every opportunity to help me with media when Sofie wouldn’t be available? I might have a list cherie but it's a two-way street, you wouldn’t be on it if you hadn’t thrown yourself at me,” he brought his face closer to hers with lips brushing against her. She could feel the flames on her skin as he spoke, “So, by all means my love, screw me.” 
This wasn’t actually happening, was it? 
Red, the pair were seeing red as they stared at each other. She can’t remember when Pierre’s arms had wrapped around her, only when she felt him tug her against him did she realize how close they actually were. The smell of cologne filled her nose, any sort of rational thoughts immediately leaving her head, and she knew if she spent another second in this room things would go in the favor of Pierre, abort abort abort. 
Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. Her first mistake, when her eyes reopened, was focusing on the bright blue ones looking back at her. So many emotions but the most prominent, was lust, a deep desire to make the other take back every single word they said, a need to be right and to change the other's mind. She knew what he was doing, he’d put her in a vulnerable position and they both knew she’d fold eventually, so what if it makes her a hypocrite? It was a bad idea, a nightmare really… but God he was so close, she could feel every part of him pressed up against her. The sound of a lock closing filled the otherwise silent room and soon after it was filled with moans, pleads, and heavy pants. 
Things had changed between the two after that day, even though the tension was still high and bitter words still left their mouths, there was also an understanding. Of what? They weren’t really sure. While Pierre might have been walking around like all was dandy in his life, Y/N felt the complete opposite. It was as if she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders, quietly carrying his burden, his secrets, suddenly becoming the main character in his double life. 
The season had only just begun. 
You like a certain type of woman
Who's smart but neglects intuition
When you're insecure, could be me, could be her
You just run to whoever is winning
It was odd to have radio silence from Pierre, especially during a race weekend, times he’d slotted specifically for hooking up were now being taken up by piles of work she had neglected. She was sure something was off, but the girl wasn’t sure what it was. 
She worked her way around another race weekend, the season soon coming to an end meant more work so maybe it was for the best that she hadn’t seen him around as often. The only times she saw Pierre was when it was absolutely necessary for him to be on track, or in the media pen or debriefing, other than that it was as if he was never even there. There had been rumors going around the paddock that Pierre was seeing someone, and it seemed serious, or as serious as it could get with a man like him. 
But then again, gossip was gossip and whether it was true or not would become clear within the coming weeks.
“Pierre you have a team meeting at 10, Sofie isn't here so I'm taking over her shift,” Her voice was soft as she entered his driver's room. The one she'd become quite accustomed to being in for the majority of most race weekends. Y/N continued their schedule for the day, having yet to look up from her notes. Once she was satisfied that she had covered everything on her list, she finally looked around the room. And there he was, in all his French glory, Pierre Gasly with a girl on his lap. She blushed, embarrassed that she walked in on something private and didn't even bother knocking, “I- I am sorry, I should've knocked, uhm, please be ready in 20 minutes…” her voice cracked but she had gotten her point across and that was enough. 
The girl that had found home on Pierre's lap slowly got off, greeting Y/N with a smile. “Hi, I'm Pierre’s friend, it's nice to meet you,” He sure had a lot of friends. 
They both stood up straight before he pulled her into his arms. Y/N watched as his lips placed a kiss on her forehead, whispering something in her ear that had her smiling like he’d hung the stars for her. It was a strange sight really, Y/N had never really seen Pierre be so delicate with someone. It was unusual and it hurt, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. 
Pierre’s friend left the room soon after, he watched her leave, his eyes only leaving her frame when she had gone out of sight. Something felt off as if something had been misplaced, maybe it was her or maybe it was him. Y/N really wished she hadn’t agreed to take Sofie's shift, it was a gut feeling really, but alas, she chose to ignore it. She cleared her throat, “She seems nice,” it was a pathetic move on her part but she hadn’t seen him in so long. She needed something, anything, to know where they stood. 
A sneer made its way on his face, “She is, she’s pretty great actually, went on a couple of dates, we get along great,” he let out a puff of air as he approached her, like an animal hunting its prey, “Yeah bought her flowers and everything, kissed her goodbye after our dates too…” he was close, too close. 
Her face contoured, confusion evident, out of everything, that wasn’t the response she was expecting. She began to speak but he cut her off, leaning his head down until his lips were inches away from her ear. A shiver ran down her body as his breath hit the sensitive parts of her neck. “I don’t lack investing emotion in romantic relationships cherie, I only invest them where I know they’ll pay off,’ Pierre’s voice had gone soft, a whisper, a truth that was only reserved for her to hear. He pulled his face back and for a mere second, insecurity flashed across his face. He let his mask fall, but the transparency was gone just as fast as it appeared. Pierre returned to a blank face, neutral. 
He moved past her, shoulder bumping against her on the way out. Y/N stood still, frozen in place taking in everything he had just said. What just happened? They didn’t speak after that, not unless it was completely necessary. Pierre spent the majority of his time with his friend while Y/N spent her time getting her overdue work done. This went on for a couple more weeks until his friend stopped coming to the track on race weekends as if she’d fallen off the face of the earth. Almost as if she never even existed. 
Said that it was me and you for life
Now you're kinda actin' like I died
Old habits die hard… She should have known, she really should’ve fucking known. Pierre Gasly doesn’t bend his rules for anyone, not for his very public relationships and especially not for some silly little work colleague. It really was feeble on her part to believe that she and Pierre could be something more… Something stronger, even after everything he’d told her, she really did hold out faith, or maybe it was just ignorance. She can’t say she was surprised when she saw another girl walk the paddock with him. She was just like the rest of them. So beautiful and she seemed kind, shown by a sweet smile always on her face. It was obvious that the girl he was pictured with leaving a bar not too long ago was definitely not her, of course, it wasn’t. 
“I promise baby, no more of this list, I promise…” He had her pushed up against the wall of her office if you could call it that. His fingers hidden between her legs as his name left her lips like a prayer, she panted and moaned. Pierre felt his ego explode. 
“There's no one like you cherie, no one…” He thrust into her, faster, harder, her work skirt bunched around her hips as he pressed wet kisses down her neck, to her collarbones. Both their shirts abandoned on the conference room floor, they came at the same time. 
“You and me baby…” He was on his knees, her right leg on his shoulder as his nose brushed against the most sensitive parts of her body, his tongue between her legs like he was a starved man, her head rolled back, eyes closing. 
“Please Pierre–” It came out breathless as the hand in his hair tugged him closer, a groan left his mouth sending the sensation right through her, and she was done for. 
The pair walked into the Alpha Tauri garage together, his arm resting on her back as he introduced her to everyone. A smile resting on his face, that cocky son of a bitch. “Y/N, this is my girlfriend,” There was a malevolent look in his eyes as he approached her, daring her to tell the girl he was showing off like some trophy. She knew the truth, challenging her, waiting for it to come out. Y/N simply smiled, giving her a nod, and then walked off. She made sure to not cross paths with the couple for the rest of the weekend. Pierre made no efforts either, not that they were ever expected. Acting as if she'd died, or better yet, never even existed. 
You don't feel remorse, you don't feel the effects
'Cause you don't think you hurt me if you wish me the best
I shoulda known all along, I was only the next one
To take your love songs as a promise
Pierre Gasly is to move to Alpine in 2023
First French driver duo in F1
Pierre Gasly ends his contract and finds a new seat for 2023
The news that Pierre was moving teams for the new season had taken over the F1 world like wildfire. Although she knew it was in the works the minute he heard his contract would end in 2022. Her first year in Alpha Tauri had been one she would forever hide deep within her mind, a secret she’d take to her grave. He was leaving, no more hooking up with Pierre Gasly, no more keeping quiet in conference rooms in case someone heard, no more waiting for 30 seconds before leaving the said room, no more fake promises, no more heartbreak. 
His thank you speech was short and sweet. Despite the fact his last race with the team wasn’t the best, he was still happy. He thanked everyone personally too, wishing everyone a happy holiday and the best for their future. Making his way around the garage until he stood in front of her, hands tucked into the pocket of his pants, “Thanks for everything, good luck with the team next season, happy holidays Y/N” he walked away. He didn’t wait for a response, didn’t mention anything about the list. Pierre acted as if wishing her the best would solve everything he had ruined. Y/N walked away too. 
She didn’t know what hurt more, the fact that he did bid her goodbye or the fact she wished he hadn’t. Emotions were ready to burst at the seams as the girl went around to congratulate everyone on their hard work. It had been such a long year and an even longer season. She just wanted to go home, away from everyone, away from Pierre. 
Y/N had seen Pierre with many girls throughout the year, herself included. It really had become a game of cat and mouse. Somehow, she would always go back to him, after every new girl, every fight, after hearing his bullshit lies, she'd always go back. It only really fueled his ego and the way he thought about himself. He didn’t feel remorse for the way he treated the girl or the after-effects of his actions, as long as he was satisfied, nothing else really mattered to the driver. There were times when his promises felt real like they actually meant something, times when Pierre wasn’t keeping up his facade, when he was truly himself. That version of Pierre was her favorite, but then a new girl would come to race weekends, wrapped around him and Y/N realized that she was only the next one. Every time a girl left it was her, a distraction until the next came around. She was never going to be permanent, none of them were. They were all pawns in his game and he knew he would always win. 
So maybe it was for the best that he and his vicious ways were changing teams for the new season, good riddance. 
Oh, you're so vicious
I loved you but I wish I didn't
If you're out there somewhere listenin'
Why you gotta be so vicious?
🏎🏎🏎🏎🏎🏎
Taglist: @juliantheupsidedown @holy-macncheese-balls @buendiabebeta @hopiiex @imnotokaywithit @bellasummer03 @indieclarke @sessgjarg @aquamariene-me
If you would like to be added to the taglist and future works, let me know :)
129 notes · View notes