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thef1diary · 3 months

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Baby Jr | Six

— Truth Unveiled

series masterlist

pairing: carlos x fem!reader

wc: 2.8k

The morning after your heartfelt conversation with Ava dawned, bringing with it a new wave of anxiety. You had spent the night tossing and turning, your mind racing with thoughts of how to tell Carlos about the pregnancy. Ava's reassuring words played on a loop in your head, offering some comfort amidst the chaos.

As you entered the paddock on race day, the buzz of activity and the smell of burning rubber filled the air. The sun was shining brightly, casting long shadows over the bustling scene. You walked briskly, your heart pounding with each step, knowing that Carlos would be occupied with media duties, the actual race, and the post-race debriefing with the team. Usually, you weren’t part of the post-race debrief, but today was different. More team members had been asked to join, emphasizing that every sort of role counted, media included.

You immersed yourself in your tasks, trying to keep a low profile. The garage was a hive of activity, with engineers and mechanics making last-minute adjustments to the car. You focused on your work, the familiar routine helping to calm your nerves. However, the thought of facing Carlos again later loomed over you like a dark cloud.

You exchanged glances with Ava several times throughout the day. Even though neither of you had the chance to stop and chat, her eyes constantly sought yours, silently checking in on you. Each time you caught her gaze, she offered a small, reassuring smile or a slight nod, her way of silently asking if you were holding up okay. It was a subtle but comforting gesture, a reminder that she was there for you, ready to lend her support whenever you needed it. These moments of connection, though brief, helped ground you amid the chaos of the day, giving you a small sense of stability and reassurance.

As the clock ticked closer towards the start of the race, the tension in the paddock heightened. Murmurs were heard in passing as each team solely focused on their two race cars, ensuring that every single part was in place and running smoothly.

You took your usual spot in the garage, watching the race unfold with a mix of excitement and anxiety. The roar of the engines filled the air, mingling with the cheers of the crowd. The sun beat down on the track, casting shimmering heat waves that made everything appear slightly surreal. You kept a close eye on the monitors, tracking every lap, every turn, every pit stop with bated breath. Wearing a pair of headphones, you were able to switch between both driver’s radio chatter, listening in to everything that was being said.

“Box, box, box!” the race engineer's voice crackled through your headphones, signaling one of the drivers to pit.

Working in motorsports, every day was like a new adventure, but nothing could ever top the feeling of race day. You truly felt like a proper spectator of the sport with the added bonus of being able to work behind the scenes with the team, making the experience even more enjoyable.

Carlos drove brilliantly, his skill and determination evident in every maneuver. He fought his way through the pack after an unfortunate position set in qualifying the day before, his car dancing around the corners with precision. When he crossed the finish line in third place, the cheers from the Ferrari garage were deafening. Carlos had secured a podium finish, a testament to his talent and the team’s hard work.

Charles, too, had an impressive race. He finished fourth, just shy of the podium, but his performance was strong and consistent. It was a good day for Ferrari, overall. The atmosphere in the paddock was electric with celebration and relief. Team members exchanged high-fives and hugs, their faces alight with joy.

After the podium celebration and a team photo, you were heading toward the meeting room for the post-race debrief when Carlos approached you, flanked by a few other team members.

“Hey, we’re thinking of grabbing dinner tonight to celebrate. You in?”

You hesitated, searching for an excuse. “Oh, I already have plans with Ava tonight. Rain check?”

Carlos frowned but nodded. “Sure, maybe next time.”

Everyone gathered in the meeting room, a large space filled with monitors and charts displaying the race data. The room was filled with the hum of quiet conversations, the excitement from the day’s success still palpable. As you settled into the debrief, you noticed Carlos tapping away on his phone before holding it under the table. Your phone buzzed, and you glanced down to see his message.

‘You looked amazing today. My number really suited you, why’d you change?’

You frowned in confusion, not understanding what he meant. Another message came through almost immediately.

‘I saw you wearing a shirt with my number on it earlier, did you not notice?’

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. You hadn’t even realized you had been wearing his number. The shirt was one Carlos had left in your hotel room after staying the night, and since he never asked for it back, you packed it and took it home. You ended up wearing it at home often because it was comfortable, but it was the first time you wore it in public, and that too without realizing it. Worst of all, Carlos had noticed.

‘Didn’t want to distract you’ you texted back, deciding against mentioning that you only changed because you spilled coffee on it, otherwise you would’ve worn it the entire day without realizing.

Carlos’ response was almost immediate. ‘Too late for that. You’re distracting me right now.’

You glanced up to see him smirking at you from across the table, his eyes twinkling with mischief. You quickly looked away, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks again.

Throughout the debrief, Carlos continued to text you, his messages a mix of playful banter and subtle compliments.

‘Focus on the debrief, Carlos.’ You texted, hoping to divert his attention towards the meeting.

That didn’t work because it wasn’t long before you received another text from him. ‘How can I, you got me picturing you in my shirt, and nothing but my shirt.’

You felt the blush deepen, grateful that the dim lighting in the room due to the projector hid your reddening cheeks. You tried to focus on the engineer’s analysis of the race, but Carlos’ messages kept pulling your attention.

‘Seriously, though. You make it hard to concentrate. I can’t stop thinking about you’

You shook your head slightly, finding it unbelievable that he was mentioning such topics during a meeting. ‘Stop it, Carlos. We’re supposed to be working’

He glanced up at you for a moment, finding it amusing that you couldn’t contain your smile despite the messages you sent opposing his words.

‘You know, I miss our late-night talks…and other things’

Your eyes wandered down to the phone in your palm, widening when you read his text. You typed out a message quickly, hoping to end the conversation without getting caught by your superiors. ‘Carlos, this isn’t the time or place.’

‘When then?’

You took a deep breath, deciding to leave that question unanswered, not knowing how to respond.

As the debrief continued, you placed your phone face down on the table, trying to focus on the discussion. Carlos’ gaze never left you, watching like a hawk as you picked up your pen and jotted down notes. The intensity of his stare made it difficult to concentrate, each glance in his direction only heightening your anxiety.

The room buzzed with the low murmur of voices as engineers and team members discussed the race’s finer points. Monitors displayed graphs and data from the day’s performance, adding a layer of visual complexity to the meeting. You found yourself scribbling notes almost mechanically, your mind half on the task and half on Carlos.

Every now and then, your phone would buzz with another message from him, but you forced yourself to ignore it. Each vibration felt like a small electric shock, jolting your concentration. You knew he was trying to get your attention, and it took every ounce of willpower to stay focused on the debrief.

Finally, unable to resist any longer, you picked up your phone and saw his latest message: ‘What are you doing tonight?’

You hesitated for a moment before typing back, ‘You already asked me that. I told you I’ll be with Ava.’

Almost immediately, his response came. ‘I mean after that’

Your heart skipped a beat, understanding the implication. You felt a rush of emotions, conflicted between your desire for him and the secret you were holding.

‘Come on,’ his next message read as he watched your facial expressions while you contemplated your choices. ‘It’s been too long since we’ve celebrated.’

You understood what he meant by celebrations, remembering how the night ended the last time he won a race. A part of you wondered if baby Sainz growing in your womb was the result of that night, or the ones that followed.

The thought of being with him intimately while actively hiding that secret from him almost made you sick to your stomach. You knew you couldn't do that to him, despite how much you clenched your thighs together at the thought of another night spent tangled in the sheets.

You glanced around the room, making sure no one was watching, then quickly typed back, ‘Carlos, it’s not that simple right now’

His reply was swift, ‘It can be. Just say yes.’

You thought back to the night he won, a hint of a smile growing on your face as you thought of another remark and quickly texted him. ‘Besides, you didn’t win today.’

Carlos looked up at you, catching your smile, and grinned. His fingers moved rapidly across his phone screen and you were fortunate that no one around him noticed his lack of attention on the debrief.

‘Podium is still a win. Third place means we can still celebrate, right?’

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a laugh. His persistence was both endearing and infuriating. ‘You’re relentless’ you typed back, feeling the flutter of butterflies in your stomach.

‘Only because you’re worth it’ came his immediate response.

You sighed, knowing he wouldn’t give up easily and you didn’t want him to either. Your mind raced, trying to balance your feelings with the reality of the situation. But at that moment, all you could think about was how much you missed him, how much you missed the way he made you feel.

‘Okay’ you typed back finally. ‘But we need to talk first, Carlos. Seriously.’

He didn’t respond to the text, instead he sought out your gaze, waiting for you to look at him before nodding. Noticing the depth in his eyes, the honesty, you knew the truth had to be revealed tonight.

You placed your phone face down again, trying to focus on the remaining part of the debrief, but your thoughts were now consumed with the upcoming conversation with Carlos. The tension between you two was palpable, and you knew tonight could change everything.

The debrief ended, and you began to gather your things. You noticed Carlos heading your way, a small grin on his face. Just before he was about to reach you, Charles interrupted him, stopping him for a hushed conversation. Since you weren’t far away, you were able to overhear parts of their conversation.

“Is she coming? If she is, Ava will too,” Charles inquired, his voice cutting through the low murmur of conversations.

Carlos shook his head at first, then looked at Charles with a pointed glare. “Why do you want Ava there?”

Charles seemed puzzled, pausing before he shrugged. “Well, they’re both part of the team, so…?”

Carlos shook his head again. “She said she already has plans with Ava, so I guess neither of them are coming.”

“Really? I heard she didn’t have any plans tonight.”

Charles’ behaviour made Carlos roll his eyes before elbowing him in annoyance. “Why did you put me up to it then if you already knew?”

He shrugged again, his expression neutral. “Just wanted to make sure, plus she likes you better than me for some reason.”

Carlos glanced back at you, his confusion deepening. You could feel his eyes on you as you exited the room, knowing that the conversation you had been dreading was going to be unavoidable tonight.

You found a quieter corner in an office within the paddock to work on some last-minute media projects. The celebrations were in full swing elsewhere, but you stayed behind. The room was dimly lit, the only sound being the soft hum of your laptop since most of the team and other personnel were off enjoying the dinner celebration or heading back to their hotels.

You immersed yourself in your work, hoping to distract yourself from the thoughts swirling in your head. The tasks were routine—updating social media posts and editing photos from the race—but they kept your mind occupied. You sipped on a Red Bull, the caffeine helping to keep you focused.

Minutes turned into hours and you were completely immersed by the contents on the screen. Papers were strewn across your desk, and your fingers danced across the keyboard.

The can of Red Bull sat beside you, half-drunk. You had initially popped the tab, but after drinking half of it, you realized you needed to be cautious with your caffeine intake given your situation. It had been sitting on your desk for a while now, and you were hesitant to take another sip.

The door opened but you hadn’t noticed until Carlos gasped theatrically, causing you to look up in surprise. “You traitor!” he exclaimed, pointing at the can. “Siding with the enemy?”

You laughed, the sound a mixture of relief and amusement. “Well, Ferrari doesn’t make energy drinks, Carlos. What else am I supposed to do to stay awake?”

He chuckled, the tension between you two momentarily easing. He walked closer, pulling up a chair beside you. “Good point. But seriously, what are you doing here? I thought you had plans with Ava.”

You looked down, the weight of your lie pressing on you. “I needed to get some work done,” you admitted quietly, your fingers tracing the rim of the Red Bull can. “There’s always something that needs to be finished.”

Carlos’s eyes narrowed slightly as he studied you. “I saw Ava at the dinner. She said you were here working when she left. You seemed pretty adamant about those plans earlier.”

You sighed, feeling the pressure build up. “I didn’t have plans. I just… needed some time to myself, Carlos. To think and work through some things.”

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Why didn’t you just tell me that?”

You shrugged, your eyes avoiding him.

Carlos was silent for a moment, his gaze intense. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right? You don’t have to hide.”

You nodded, feeling a lump in your throat, realizing that the conversation you’ve been dreading was going to happen in the paddock of all places. “I know. It’s just… complicated.”

He reached out, placing a hand on yours. “I’m here now. Let’s talk. What’s really going on?”

You took a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. “It’s just… everything feels overwhelming right now. The race, work, us.”

Carlos’s eyes softened. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?”

You looked up, meeting his gaze. “I’m not avoiding you.”

“Yes, you are,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “Every time I try to talk to you, you find an excuse to be somewhere else.”

“No, I—”

“Yes,” he insisted, cutting you off. “And you’ve never been the type to avoid confrontation. Did I do something that makes you run away every time you see me?”

Carlos noticed your attempts to avoid him, which he openly acknowledged, leaving you momentarily speechless.

"Well, you did something..." you trailed off, since he was technically half of the reason you were in this predicament in the first place.

“Enlighten me,” he said, his tone challenging but not unkind.

“What would change if I tell you?” you asked, feeling your heart race.

“For one, I would have my friend back,” he replied softly.

“Are we friends or are we coworkers who fuck?” You shot back, your tone coming out a little harsher than you expected.

“We were friends first, were we not?” he questioned, his voice dropping to a whisper.

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words. “Okay, Carlos. Do you really want to know?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation, his eyes locked onto yours.

“It could change your life,” you warned, feeling a mixture of fear and resolve.

“It’s that serious?” he asked, his eyebrows raising in surprise.

“Yeah,” you nodded, looking away for a moment to blink away the tears pricking the corners of your eyes

“It only makes me want to know more,” he said, his voice gentle but insistent.

You took a deep breath, the words heavy on your tongue. “I’m pregnant, Carlos, and it’s yours.”

——

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sunny44 · 3 months

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Happy anniversary

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x wife!reader

Warnings: just pure fluff and English is not my first language.

Summary: Today marks one year since you said ‘Yes’ to the love of your life. The best way to celebrate is by remembering that day as if it were yesterday.

I had planned everything carefully. Our first wedding anniversary had to be special. Charles had always been the man of grand gestures, of emotional surprises, and this time I wanted to do something different. Something that showed how much he meant to me.

I woke up early and went straight to the closet where I kept my wedding dress. That white dress I wore on the happiest day of my life. The memory of that day was still fresh in my mind—the way Charles looked at me when I walked into the church, with tears in his eyes and a smile that lit up the entire place.

I put on the dress carefully, adjusting every detail to make it perfect. I looked in the mirror and, for a moment, I was transported back in time. There I was again, the anxious and passionate bride, ready to say "yes" to the love of my life.

I walked down the stairs slowly, my heart pounding in my chest. Charles was in the living room, facing away from me, engrossed in some work on the computer. I took a deep breath and called his name, my voice trembling with emotion.

"Charles?"

He turned around and, for a moment, was frozen. His eyes widened and his mouth opened slightly, unable to form any words. I saw tears start to form in the corners of his eyes and then roll down his cheeks.

"Y/n... you... you look beautiful," he said, his voice choked with emotion.

I walked over to him, feeling my own eyes fill with tears. "I wanted to relive that moment, Charles. I wanted you to know how much this year has meant to me. Every day, every moment with you has been a gift."

He stood up and came to me, holding my face in his hands. "You have no idea how happy you make me, Y/n. This year has been the best of my life, and it's all because of you."

We hugged there, in the middle of the living room, feeling the connection that had always united us grow even stronger. Charles pulled back a little, just enough to look at me again, admiring every detail of the dress.

"I remember every second of that day," he said, smiling. "The way you walked into the church, the light reflecting off your dress, the way you smiled at me... it was the most beautiful moment of my life."

"For me too," I replied, holding his hands. "And I wanted you to know that every day, I choose you. I choose to love you, to care for you, to support you. You are everything to me, Charles."

He pulled me into another hug, tighter this time. We stayed like that, in silence, letting our hearts speak for us. After a while, he pulled back again and looked at me, with that smile I loved so much.

"Do you want to dance with me, Y/n?" he asked, a sparkle in his eyes.

"Of course," I replied, smiling.

He put on a soft song and pulled me into a slow dance. We twirled around the living room, lost in each other, feeling every heartbeat. At that moment, I realized that it didn't matter where we were or what we were doing. What mattered was that we were together, and that was all we needed.

As we danced, I whispered to him: "I love you, Charles. Always and forever."

He looked into my eyes and replied: "I love you too, Y/n. More than anything in this world."

And so, we danced until the sun set, celebrating not just a year of marriage, but the promise of many happy years to come.

Bonus scene!

Y/nleclerc instagram post

Liked by @charlesleclerc, @pescaleleclerc, @lewishamilton and others 200270

@Y/nleclerc There are not enough words to describe my love for you. When I said “yes” one year ago, I knew it would be the best decision of my life, and I was right. I can't wait to start a family with you and grow old together. I am very excited for the coming years of celebrating our wedding anniversary. I love you today and will love you until my last breath.

Happy 1 year anniversary my love ❤️.

@charlesleclerc Thank you for everything mon amour, your the best thing in my life and I knew you were the one for me since the day I met you. I love you with all my heart and I also can wait to celebrate this day every year with you.

Ps: Let’s talk more about this family thing, I really want a baby

Liked by y/nleclerc

@lewishamilton happy anniversary guys, so nice to see the love you have for each other.

@pescaleleclerc this makes me so happy, please give me a few grandchildren

@charlesleclerc thank you maman and I’m gonna try to give you the grandkids

@user9183 wow it’s been a whole year, feels like a lifetime

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fraugwinska · 6 months

Note

Hello, wait are your requests open? 😅

If yes - i have an idea? :)

Per Charlie's decision everyone goes out for a night out in the town. You stay at the hotel as you weren't feeling well. Thinking the hotel is empty you carelssly leave your room and head to the bar and lounge area. To your surprise it's already occupied - Alastor is drinking whisky and listening to jazz on his old radio. He is already tipsy as he starts slowly dancing with himself. You don't want to interrupt but before you can go back he calls to you and asks if you want to join him. I just really need some tipsy and more relaxed Alastor thay slowly openes up to the reader. Bonus scene: you two fall asleep on the couch and wake up to the whole group staring at you two with the wildests reactions lol

This was such a cute prompt - Thank you for suggesting this, dear Anon! It's a little shorter, but I really like it - hope you do too! :>

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

More than words

Thirsty. You are thirsty.

That's the first thought you had when you woke up from your nap. Hell really had eternal suffering, with migraines being just as annoying and painful in hell as they were on earth. You had woken up with pain behind your eyes, and you knew in that exact moment you had to tell Charlie you wouldn't be able to go out tonight, because knowing yourself it would last the whole day and leave you exhausted by the evening.

You peeled yourself out of bed, realizing with relief that the pain and the dull pressure were gone almost completely. One or two glasses of water and a strong espresso, and maybe you were even able to get a good night's sleep. So you threw a cozy, fuzzy cardigan over you and headed to the kitchen. You had expected creepy silence, since it didn't happen often that everyone went out all at once, so you were surprised to hear the faint sounds of pianos, trumpets and drums when you were halfway down the staircase. Maybe Charlie or Husk had left the radio on? Without real reason to you tiptoed the last steps down, peeking around the corner of the corridor leading to the bar. What you saw made you both speech- and breathless.

Alastor, with a glass of whiskey in hand, humming along to Boogie Man by Sid Phillips, eyes closed and dancing just for himself – tipsy, slightly uncoordinated swing steps that might've looked impressive if he wasn't... drunk? At least a bit buzzed, that was for sure.

You watched him in fascination, tapping and twirling, while you contemplated what to do. The only way to the kitchen was through the foyer, which meant you had to pass the bar, ergo Alastor. But you weren't sure how much he would appreciate you catching him in this... state. Yes, you were on good terms, you would even go as far to say you were friends, but that stage of relationship was far too fresh to risk changing it by angering him. You decided that your bathroom sink had to provide the much needed water and fuck the espresso, you turned around to sneak back to your room.

„Oh, I didn't know there was an audience for my show!“

Fuck.

You glanced over your shoulder – Alastor looked you straight in the eye, swaying a bit, grin loose and eyes a little clouded. He sounded more amused than angry, something you didn't expect, but were fucking grateful for.

„Sorry, Al... I didn't think you were home, I just wanted to get some water and head back to my room.“ „Ah,“ Alastor took a sip of his drink, golden brown liquid leaking from the corners of his mouth down to his chin. With careless fingers he wipes it away. „So eager to leave little ol' me hanging...“ He pouted. Alastor, the radio demon pouted. You asked yourself if you might have migraine-incited hallucinations.

„Alastor, are you... okay?“, you ask, carefully turning to him.

„Fantastic dear, just fantastic.“, he muttered, eyeing his now empty glass, „Although drinking in company would certainly be more pleasurable than drinking alone.“

He walked back behind the bar, steps still a little wobbly, and poured himself another, giving you an opportunity. It was the deers crude way of handing you the choice - You could leave now, if you wanted.

Instead, you wrapped the cardigan tighter around yourself, suddenly very aware of your lack of decorum, and with a few steps, you were in front of him, sliding onto one of the stools. Alastor tilted his head at you as you leaned on the counter, both elbows on the slightly sticky surface and face in your hands, sighing.

„Alright tapper, as long as you don't bring my headache back, pour it away.“

----------------------------***----------------------------

„... and wouldn't you believe it, the next time this idiot saw me he just ripped off his whole arm and threw it at me!“

Alastor laughed, loudly and boastfully, slapping his thighs. You joined in with your own laughter, more like a cackle, tongue and restraint loosened by his choice of drink for you – mint julep, apparently one of the only cocktails he knew how to mix, being a favourite from his time in the 1920's. The fresh and cooling drink went easily down your tongue, and both of you had been chatting away for the last hour, mostly Alastor telling you funny anecdotes and you laughing at his stories till your mouth went dry.

While you drank slowly, Alastor rushed every drink down his throat like a parched man. With wonder you watched him, amazed by how much he could take, word unslurred and speech still crisp and transatlantic. The only indicator of his drunkenness: his choice of words became more and more crass. It made you giggle uncontrollably whenever he used profanities that were so unlike him.

“Can you blame him? That poor man probably didn’t want you to rip it off again - might just do it himself and save the trouble!” “I didn’t even get to the best part, darling - He owned a fucking second hand shop! Ha Ha HA!” He bellowed with laughter,looking more like a mischievous school-boy than a terrifying overlord and you slapped his arm. “Alastor, stop, you’re making this up!” “Absolutely not, it’s the irony that makes the story even more comical.”

You shook your head, stirring the mint leaves in your glass.He was much more easy-going than normal, his cheeks tinted in a pretty shade of red. The biggest difference was his everlasting smile. Tight and wide normally, it had become a loose, content one, playful without the malice it usually carried. He looked even more handsome that way.

“A penny for your thought, cherie.”, he chuckled, arms crossed on the countertop and leaning in closely. The proximity brought the smell of bourbon, warm wood and nutmeg with hints of vetiver. The stronger version of his natural scent. Tasty. The thought shuddered through your mind and you swallowed it quickly with the rest of your own drink. “I just thought about a Chaplin quote that came to mind.” He leaned on his hand, blinking in curiosity, half-lidded eyes telling you to continue - you and him had a thing for his movies, you've watched City Lights together multiple times. “A man's true character comes out when he's drunk.” You mirrored his gesture with a smile of your own, bringing your face even closer to his, which seemed to startle him. “And I gotta say it’s a shame you’re not drunk more often.”

Alastor pulled back, grasping for the whiskey bottle as he avoided your gaze. You were confused - had you offended him? You sat yourself upright, ready to apologize, when he cut you off.

“Better not to reveal this kind of secret to just everyone, my dear. It’s only the ghost of a man long gone, anyways.” He sighed at the bottle in his hands, realizing it was empty. You scoffed, rolling your eyes at him. “Please, you may tell that yourself but I’m not a medium. That man isn’t gone. He's only hiding, deep down in there.”

Foolishly your brain didn’t remind you that Alastor didn’t like to be touched. You reached out, putting your hand flat at his chest, right where his heart would be. As for Alastor, his alcohol-dazed mind couldn’t catch up with what you were doing fast enough. Your palm pressed down, receiving the soothing, soft warmth he always radiated through your sensitive skin, like an old radio that had been left on for too long. His eyes widened, you felt him inhale sharply, yet it took another few seconds for him to react, flinching back.

His barstool wobbled, swinging dangerously, and like in slow-motion he fell backwards, only letting out a small, ulfiltered “Shit!” before he disappeared behind the bar. You jumped up, stuttering “Sorry, sorry, oh fuck, I’m so sorry!” while you hurried behind the bar to help him up. He was sprawled out on the floor, almost like a starfish, his chest shaking and an arm thrown over his face. “Alastor, I’m so sorry, are you hurt? Did you hit your head? Fuck, I’m so….”, you stopped abruptly when he burst out laughing. He wheezed, shaking with laughter, and you fell to your knees beside him, relieved and at the same time unnerved. He sat up, still holding his chest with one hand and patting your head with the other.

“Moments like these remind me why I like you so much, darling. Such a blue-eyed, air-headed doe you are.” You met his gaze, ready to banter, but the sad tint in his expression made you decide against that. Instead you shuffled nearer to him, slowly sitting up on your knees, to give him the option to push you away. He didn’t, only watching you closely. You wrapped your arms around his head, pulling him close, his cheek resting on your chest, tight enough he had to hear your heartbeat.

You held him like this until you felt his hands on your back, returning the embrace. HIs breath was warm and heavy on your skin. If you didn’t know better, you’d say he was holding back tears. Maybe he was. You just stayed like this, holding him in your arms. Words were unnecessary, unwanted even. Him and you weren’t close enough yet to bring everything he should share into words. But you would be there, whenever that moment came, and for now, this was the right way to express what couldn’t be said. Much more even.

When he pulled away, he did it gently, a soft and thankful smile on his lips. “I think the bar has run dry, my dear.” He stood up, offering you his hand to help you up. You took it, and he left your hand in his as you stood face to face. “How about a warm nightcap to end our day?” ----------------------------***----------------------------

“... You are seeing this too, right? I’m not trippin’?!” “Shhhh! Don’t wake them up.” Charlie hissed at Angel, her eyes round like saucers, staring over the backrest, as did the others. “How can this creep still smile even when he’s sleeping?!”, Vaggie whispered loudly. Angel gave her a sly smile. “You’d smile too if a hot girl slept in your lap like that.” Husk groaned, pulling a paw over his face. “It’s too late and I’m too sober for this shit.” “SSSSSSSHHHHHH! Leave them alone, go! Go to bed, quietly, all of you!”, Charlie shushed them again, shooing them away from the sofa.

She quickly ran to the nearest cabinet, pulling out a thick blanket which she carefully draped over your and Alastors body. She took a few heartbeats to internalize what she everyone saw when they came home.

You looked like a couple. Of course Charlie knew you weren’t. Alastor - half-laying, half-sitting asleep on the sofa - had his arm around you, his head resting on the top of your head. You were serenely slumbering while nuzzled against his chest, legs pulled up and looking like you were mended to his side. You, too, were smiling. On the cofffee table in front of the sofa were two cups of what looked and smelled like hot milk with honey, the porcelain still faintly warm to the touch and the liquid barely touched. She suppressed the squeal she wanted to squeal.

After she was done, she quietly took a few steps back, scanning that you were both still fast asleep, then she took Vaggie’s hand and together they headed to their own room. Charlie knew you weren’t a couple. But she also knew that was only a matter of when you would become one, not if.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #angel dust #charlie morningstar #fraugwinskawrites #quick fic #vaggie hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel angel dust

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interstellarl01 · 3 months

Text

Part 2 - My most reread Drarry fics

A few weeks ago, I shared a (non-exhaustive) list of the fics that I've reread the most.

All of them were on the short side, since I usually don't have time to reread longer fics, unfortunately. But while I don't often reread longer fics entirely, there are many that I revisit regularly by dipping into bits and pieces or rereading specific scenes that tug at my heart and stay with me.

Here are some of the long fics I keep coming back to, over and over again, and will probably definitely continue to do so in the future.

Nor All That Glisters by @sweet-s0rr0w (110k)

An amazing fic about the spiral of addiction, love and healing. This fic is intense and heartbreaking at times. It will have you root for Draco while yelling at him at the same time, urging him not to do what you fear he will do. One of my favourite Draco of all time.

That Old black Magic by @bixgirl1 (77k)

An absolutely stunning read. A pure enemies to lovers fic. Forced marriage trope at its best, with explosive, scorching hate sex.

I love revisiting the scene with the tapestry when Harry breaks down. It always hits me right in the feels.

Embers by @shiftylinguini (41k)

The a/b/o fic you need to read ! It has such a unique take on the Alpha/Omega trope, with a vulnerable Alpha Draco and a confident and earnest Omega Harry. It’s very intimate and also INCREDIBLY hot.

Lumos by birdsofshore (41k)

A classic. Does it even need an introduction ?

Dwelling on Dreams by @the-sinking-ship (135k)

This fic is incredible with a Draco so in love with Harry but feeling so unworthy of love. Harry will make you weak in the knees. He is incredibly sexy, powerful, charming and funny. And … he rides a motorbike. What more do I need to say?

Title & Possession by @kbrick (49k)

This one is quite recent but I've already revisited it a few times. I'm a little bit obsessed with the dancing scene in chapter 5. The sexual tension in that scene is 🔥

Away Childish Things (153k) and The Boy Who Only Lived Twice (54k) and Another Mask Behind You (116k) by @letteredlettered

Look, I can't choose between any of those three fics. Lettered has such a unique and compelling style that sucks me right in every single time. I’ve gone back to their fics a ridiculous amount of time over the last years.

dirtynumbangelboy by @magpiefngrl (40k)

A wonderful fake dating fic. This is the first drarry fic I ever bookmarked. I often go back to the piano scene. It gets me every single time.

Bonus:

The last two probably don’t belong to the « long » fics category but I forgot to include them in my previous post, and seeing that I do reread them often; here it is :

Nice things by Aideomai (22k)

Harry is touched starved. Draco is helping. A soft, dreamy, atmospheric, and truly amazing fic.

Blueprints for a Dream by Frayach (24k)

This one is for the angst lovers. Warning: infidelity. Endgame Drarry.

Thank you to the amazing writers of those fics (and to the many other writers that are not on that list that I also adore; I couldn't possibly include you all here. There are too many of you). You are all incredible and have brought me so much joy. So, thank you.

#drarry #drarry fic #most reread fics #amazing writers #i love them #thank you

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marvelsmylife · 7 months

Text

Begin again

Pairing: Azriel x reader

Plot: Azriel grants you your wish of being left alone for a while. The second the times up though, he starts his plan to win you back.

A/n this is the last part to Damned if you do, Damned if you don’t story. I would like to remind you that my requests are open (please try to send in fluffy or smut requests. I need to chill out on angsty stories for a while 😂😂😂)

Warning: fluff

Part One Part Two Bonus Scene

Clinging onto the hope you gave him the night of the dinner party, Azriel gave you the space you asked for and settled with giving you three weeks. He was still a wreck during those three weeks, but he spent that time planning the perfect way to win you back. When the three weeks were up, he set his plan into motion.

It started out small. He was leaving you roses by your front door with a note that included a happy memory you shared. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the memories he wrote down, from the first day you met to the first book he ever bought you just because he saw it and thought you might enjoy it.

You couldn’t believe he remembered the tiny moments you shared together and started feeling bad that you had been ignoring him for two years. You knew that any other male would have moved on if they were in Azriel’s position. Yet he stayed loyal to you, and while he was over the top while he begged for forgiveness he never once stopped fighting for you or your forgiveness.

He then resorted to the one thing he told Cassian he would never do, writing poems for you. Granted, they weren’t that great when he started writing them, but by the sixth week, he had you swooning by the time you finished reading the poem.

The best part was that he actually got help from some of your students. Every day, he would approach one of them and ask if they could hand you the poem and give you a beautiful set of either earrings or a necklace. The students would be excited that the spymaster of the night court asked them for a favor and were more than happy to deliver the poem, along with a few jewelry pieces.

Azriel would watch from a distance as you read the poem and held the piece of jewelry against your chest.

The next thing Azriel did was stop by the old dance studio you attended and properly apologize to your old instructor. He apologized for his actions and explained what drove him to do what he did.

Azriel was surprised when your old instructor accepted his apology and told him he would let you know that Azriel apologized to him. Of course, Azriel told him he didn’t have to do that, that he did it because it was the right thing to do. “The apology might be two years late, but at least you did it. Most males would never apologize in the first place, let alone an Illyrian male.”

Even though Azriel told him he didn’t have to, your old instructor stopped by your studio and informed you that Azriel apologized to him: “He seemed so remorseful for his actions. Do you ever plan on forgiving him?”

“I already have,” you confessed and started playing with the necklace Azriel had gifted you a few weeks back: “The thing is, I'm scared that he is going to resent me again and take his anger out my studio because I built a career out of something I’m passionate about. I love teaching dance too much just to go back to being the spymaster's mate.”

“Why can’t you be both?” your instructor pointed out: “Be the spymaster's mate AND an amazing dancing teacher.”

You went home that night replaying the conversation and wondered if your old instructor was right.

His big move came six months later. He had gotten wind that you were now providing private lessons for fae’s who were too shy to learn around other people. They would have to pay in order to receive those private lessons, but they were reasonably priced.

You thought others wouldn’t want to pay for private lessons after attending your other classes for free. You were surprised when all of your openings for private lessons were booked for the foreseeable future.

You were getting ready to teach someone late at night when you spotted Azriel walking through the front door: “Azriel! What are you doing here? I have a private lesson in five minutes.”

“I’m the one who requested the private lesson,” Azriel confessed: “Teach me everything you know about the thing you love the most.”

A smile formed on your face at Azriel’s request, and you were more than happy to oblige. You started teaching him the basics and were surprised at how fast he learned to dance. “Look at you,” you beamed at Azriel: “You’ll be a better dancer than me in no time.”

“Not possible,” Azriel stared lovingly at you.

By the end of the lesson, Azriel had his arms around your body, holding you close to him. He was enjoying having you in his arms after being denied it for years. “I’ve missed you so much, my love,” Azriel spoke into your hair before getting ahold of your chin and making you look into his eyes: “I am nothing without you.”

Azriel found himself staring at your lips and was tempted to lean in and kiss you, but he didn’t want to overstep and potentially ruin all of the progress he had accomplished thus far.

To his surprise, you were the one that pulled him into a kiss. He didn’t complain. As a matter of fact, he took control of the kiss immediately and had you pinned against the mirrored wall.

You let out a soft moan at Azriel’s action and found yourself pressing yourself against his body, desperate for his touch. “I really am sorry for all the pain I have caused you these past couple of years,” Azriel whispered as he cradled your neck: “I never realized how much I needed you in my life until you left me. I was such a fool for saying such hurtful things to you.”

A small smile appeared on your face at Azriel’s apology: “That’s all I’ve ever wanted to hear you say. Thank you for apologizing and for all the flowers and poems you’ve sent me these past few months.”

“Can you come home now? Our house is not a home without you in it” Azriel begged, his scarred hands were now tangled in your hair.

“Yes, I will come home,” you replied before a mischievous smile appeared on your face: “But what do you say we spend the night here, just for tonight?” Azriel was going to question why you would want to sleep in your studio when you tapped on the mirror behind you. “You have always said it would be nice to fuck in front of a mirror. Well, we have one right here.”

“Have I told you how much I love you yet?” Azriel groaned before leaning in and capturing your lips again.

A/n. Let me know if you guys would be interested in a bonus scene with the reader, Azriel, and that mirror.

@byyalady @sheblogs @janebirkln @starsinyourseyes @cumuluscranium @honeybee54321 @pussyistasty-blog @azriels-shadowsinger @anuttellaa @pussyistasty-blog @fightmedraco @aunicornmademedoit @esposadomd @thelov3lybookworm @harrystylesfan2686 @sarawritestories @fxckmiup @sleepylunarwolf @mochibabycakes @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @stargirl1714 @tenshis-cake @tele86 @63angel @sagskylar01 @i-am-infinite @kristin813 @one-big-fangirl

#azriel imagine #azriel x reader #azriel x you #acotar imagine #acotar x reader

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orchidniins · 7 months

Note

Do you write for George? If so can we get some smut💋 Loved your first, btw!!!

Island Loving | George Clarke

Summary: You and George are away on holiday, enjoying your time together, but you two can't seem to keep your hands off of each other. Pairings: George Clarke x afab!Reader Warnings: Mature content, Smut, Fluff Word Count: 4.6k A/N: Anon, thanks for the request! This took me so long to write, like I had planned to get this out 2 days ago, but oh well. This is also my first attempt at writing smut so I apologize if it’s a bit awkward. Also, this was originally supposed to be maybe 2k words, but I got carried away. Hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

"You sure what I packed is enough?", you ask, rummaging through your closet, tossing clothes haphazardly in your attempt to pack for the hot climate.

"You've about packed the whole closet", George remarks, lounging on the edge of your bed. You shoot him a deadpan look as he continues, "We're only going to be there for three days, how many more clothes do you need?" he teases. "Didn't we just go shopping like a week ago?"

"Oh, piss off George," You playfully throw the shirt in your hand at him, hitting him square in the face, which earns a laugh from both of you. In that moment, a rush of gratitude floods over you for the amazing three months you've spent together. From spontaneous adventures to lazy Sundays in bed, every moment with George had felt like a dream and you truly felt like you were the luckiest girl.

You and George were friends before you started dating, and while you've been on group trips before, this would be the first time it's just the two of you. So when George surprised you with tickets to the Maldives for your birthday, excitement and anxiety swirled within you.

"You know what? I give up," you declare, throwing your hands up in defeat as you survey the chaotic scene in your closet.

As you start picking up the scattered clothing, George chuckles and joins in, the laughter lightening the mood. Despite the nagging feeling that you might have forgotten something, excitement bubbles within you at the thought of uninterrupted time with George. Both of you had been busy, making this getaway a much-needed break. And let's face it, having a shirtless George around all the time was a definite bonus.

-------⋆✧⋆-------

As the sun began to set, painting the sky with vibrant hues of orange and pink, you and George lounged in the pool, the cool water providing relief from the day's heat. Earlier, you had spent the day exploring the stunning beaches of the Maldives, George's laughter echoed through the air as you both raced each other along the shoreline, the warm tropical breeze tousling your hair.

It was late afternoon, as you relaxed in the pool, George's toned physique glistened in the fading sunlight, his abs defined and glistening with droplets of water. He looked effortlessly handsome, and you couldn't help but admire the way the sunlight danced across his chiseled features. Leaning back against the edge of the pool, you watched as George swam towards you, his crystal blue eyes locking with yours.

"You know," he murmured, his voice sending shivers down your spine, "I could get used to this view." His words were accompanied by a playful grin, and you couldn't resist teasing him in return.

"Is that so?" you replied, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you swam closer to him, your heart racing with anticipation. George's gaze softened as he drew nearer.

"Are we still the only one's here?", you question, scanning the area. You had been the only ones around the pool for hours now; the last few people leaving over two hours ago. George's gaze doesn't falter though, remaining fixed on you.

George closes the distance between you, the gentle rippling of the water drawing your attention back to him. An inaudible gasp leaves you mouth at the sensation of a hard muscle pressing into the space between your thighs, sending a wave of heat surging through your body.

His hands find their way around your waist, pulling you irresistibly closer, while his lips hover just inches away from yours. Your fingers trace the contours of his toned chest, feeling the warmth emanating from his skin. The tension between you was palpable, each breath charged with desire as you both leaned in for a kiss, igniting a fiery passion that consumed you both in a haze of longing and heat.

The heat of the pool seemed to intensify as your lips move in perfect harmony, the throbbing sensation between your legs growing more intense with each passing second. Despite the empty pool area, the possibility of an unsuspecting guest or hotel staff member stumbling upon your heated makeout session added an exhilarating edge to the moment, igniting a daring boldness within you as you contemplated just how far you could push George.

You trail your hands down his chest, savoring the sensation of his hard physique beneath your fingertips. George responds with a bite to your bottom lip, eliciting a low moan from you.

Your right hand moves down to rest right at the hem of his swim trunks, frozen there for a moment as feel George's lips disconnect from yours and attach to your neck instead. He begins to roughly suck at the soft, supple skin at the crook of your neck, leaving a dark red mark in the process.

You continue to tease him, relishing in the reaction he was giving you. You feel yourself getting wetter at the sounds of the deep guttural groans that escape his lips as your fingertips brush over his clothed cock. His groans get louder as he feels the constricting cloth of his swim trunks rub against his erection.

Your palm rubs harder at the bulge in his trunks, driving George absolutely crazy, and he hadn't even gotten his cock out of his trunks yet. George's grip on your waist gets tighter, his nails slightly digging into your side, the slight pain makes you wince in pleasure.

With a smirk playing on your lips, you pull away, moving your hand away from his cock and placing your hands on his shoulders, pushing him away gently. Your flushed face betrays the mix of afternoon heat and the arousal coursing through your body.

George protests, his voice husky with desire, "Don't test me, love."

You look at him innocently, a mischievous glint in your eyes, "What are you talking about? It's getting late, and we have other things to do. Come on," you say, slightly moving back in the water.

You turn around and confidently walk to the ladder, pulling yourself out of the pool giving George an enticing view of your glistening skin and the curve of your ass in your skimpy bikini bottom. You make sure to look back at him over your shoulder as you grab your towel and walk off, completely unfazed, leaving George hard and needy in the pool.

-------⋆✧⋆-------

The rest of the day had flown by quickly, and now the two of you were getting ready to go out for your birthday dinner. You were all but expecting George to get you back for the scene at the pool, but so far, nothing ha happened.

You stood in front of the mirror, applying the final touches to your makeup. You were absolutely in love with your look; You had on a midi-length blue silky dress, its low back and plunging neckline accentuated your figure exquisitely and the thin fabric was an absolute god send in the hot Maldives' climate.

Meanwhile, George leaned casually against the bathroom door frame, already dressed in a linen shirt and a pair of olive slacks. His intense gaze followed your every move. To him, you looked nothing short of a goddess, and he still couldn’t believe how the hell he had managed to pull you.

“You look stunning tonight Angel”, George says as he walks into the bathroom, coming to stand behind you. Your dress did not leave much room for the imagination, or a bra, and he couldn’t resist the urge to touch you. As great as that dress looked on you, he thought it would look even better pooled around your ankles.

“Thanks Georgie, ” you replied, leaning closer to the mirror, focused on your eyeliner.

As George’s hands come up to rest on your hips, you straighten up, your exposed back coming in contact with his firm chest. The proximity makes you aware of just how close he had gotten. You look into the mirror for a second, catching George’s eyes locked on yours, his eyes dark and filled with unbridled lust.

It was a look you knew all too well. That hungry look was all you needed to know that George was extremely horny right now and that was enough to send the blood rushing down to your bundle of nerves.

Whenever he got like this, he tried to get as close to you as humanly possible, craving any form of physical touch. And when he called you "Angel", you knew there would be no reasoning with the man, especially after that stunt you had pulled earlier today.

His hands start moving up and down your waist, sending shivers down your spine. Though you had no intention of missing your reservation (which was very hard to get, by the way), you still wanted to see what else you could possibly get away with.

You lean down again, this time to put on your lip liner, subtly pushing your hips back ever so slightly more than before. You become acutely aware of the growing hardness pressing against your ass and his grip on your hips becomes tighter, confirming your previous suspicion.

George leans forward, brushing your hair to the side, and starts to gently pepper kisses along your back, the sensation leaving a delightful tingle through your body.

You stand up again, pretending to go through your makeup bag, doing your best to maintain a neutral expression on your face. Suddenly, you hear George let out a low chuckle from behind you. He leans down and whispers in your ear, "I know what you're doing," before placing a a few kisses behind your ear.

As George's warm breath tickles your ear, a delightful shiver courses through your body. He turns you around, your back pressing against the counter, his intense gaze locking with yours. A charged silence fills the air, thick with anticipation and desire.

"You've been doing this all day," George murmurs, his voice heavy with want. "Be careful there angel. Don't tease me if you can't handle the consequences of your little game." Your heart races at his words. With a subtle smirk, you lean in closer, unable to resist the magnetic pull between you.

He takes hold of your chin, tilting it upwards, the warmth of your skin under his fingertips sending a jolt of electricity through his body. You meet his gaze with a challenge in your eyes, your voice dripping with playful defiance as you taunt, "Oh, and what consequences might those be, Georgie?" Your hand rises, fingertips lightly brushing the flesh revealed by the unbuttoned shirt, teasing your boyfriend further.

You run your hands down his clothed abs, settling right above the hem of trousers. But before you could move down any further, he places his hand over yours, halting your movements. "Well, let's just say," he begins, guiding your hand to place it on the counter next to you while you grip his shoulder with your other hand "keep testing me and you might just find out."

A surge of eagerness courses through you at his words, and you playfully roll your eyes, trying to mask the effect he has on you. "Is that a promise or a threat?" you challenge, though your heart races with excitement.

With a devilish grin, George leans in closer, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours. "Why don't you stick around and find out?" he murmurs, the air between you crackling with tension.

"I'd love to, but we have a dinner to get to," you say, slowly pushing at his chest, not wanting George to get his way so easily. But then, As George pulls you closer by the waist, your breath hitches, your back arching as you grab onto his shoulders to steady yourself. "Nice try." Before you can protest, he closes the distance between you, his lips engulfing you in an intense kiss, fueled by the tension building throughout the day.

He hoists you up onto the counter, his movements assertive yet gentle, as he deepens the kiss. You feel his tongue slip into your mouth and your hands move up to tug at his hair. You feel George's low groan reverberating through the kiss, adding to the intensity of the moment, all thoughts of dinner slipping away from your mind.

His lips travelled down to your neck, leaving a wet trail of kisses along the sensitive skin, each kiss only intensifying the need to want his lips someplace else. He kisses the hickey he had left earlier that day, sucking a little extra hard on the already sore skin. A moan louder than you intended left you lips and you could feel the bastard smirk against your skin.

His hands bunched up your dress, almost hiking it up to your waist, as George dug his fingers into the soft exposed flesh of your things. His fingertips traced a slow antagonizing path towards the place you needed him the most. As his fingers brushed against the fabric of your panties, he remarks with with a smirk, "Already soaking wet, are we?", The mere friction through your underwear was enough to weaken you, turning you into putty in his hands.

You hum in response, bucking your hips forward, craving more friction and pressure against your aching core. “Slow down there angel, I haven't even gotten started with you yet." he says in a low voice.

George gently lifts you up and slides your panties down to your ankles, taking them off and throwing them to the side, the cool air now hitting your exposed cunt. Suddenly, George's hands grip tightly behind yours knees, spreading your legs wider, pushing you back, your back now hitting the sink. "Fuck," you gasp, as he starts kissing his way closer and closer to your core. Each kiss and bite on the skin of your inner thighs intensifies the anticipation, making you wetter than you already were.

George's gaze fixates on your glistening wet cunt, his pants getting tighter just at the sight. With a hungry determination, his fingers spread apart your slick folds, "George…fuck," you moan as his tongue licks one long stroke up your throbbing clit, your entire body shivers involuntarily.

His tongue dives into you swollen clit, nipping and sucking at your sensitive core, sending jolts of ecstasy through your body, absolutely wrecking you with just his mouth. He flattens his tongue, expertly lapping at your folds, alternating with rough sucking motions. The sensation ignites intense pleasure throughout your body, and the friction of his beard against your clit sends electrifying waves coursing through you. As you throw your head back in pleasure, your hands glide down the collar of his shirt to grasp onto his back, your nails digging into the firm muscles of his shoulders, eliciting a low moan from George.

The lewd sounds of him absolutely devouring your pussy mix in with your gasping breaths filling the bathroom with an intoxicating symphony of desire.

"I-I…" you manage to gasp, your voice shaky as you struggle to form a coherent sentence. Your body trembles from the relentless jabs of his skilled tongue against your clit.

"Can't hear you love," George's murmurs from between your thighs, the vibrations causing a delicious hum to resonate through your folds, intensifying the pleasure pulsing within you.

"God, George! I'm so close," you stare down at him, utterly aroused by the sheer amount of power that this man had over you. You're dangerously close to the edge, feeling the impending release of your orgasm ready to spill over at any moment.

He could feel your legs trembling beneath his fingers. The dirty noises spilling out of you pretty mouth only pushed George to continue abusing your cunt. As he listens to you writhe and moan in desperate need, it's not enough to simply pleasure you with his tongue anymore; he wants more. He wanted to make sure you were fucked out properly, especially after the ordeal you had put him through.

With one final lick to your clit, he pulls away, leaving your pussy trembling. George then places his arms on the counter on either side of you, leaning in to meet you at eye level. You stare at him panting, cheeks flushed and a dumbfounded look on your face. "George.." you whined his name at the loss of contact, the cool air once again hits your now neglected cunt.

"Alright then, angel, get yourself fixed up", he says, his voice dripping with playful authority as he points in the direction he tossed your panties. "We have a reservation to get to." With a teasing smirk, he walks off into the bedroom. "Go on, finish getting ready, I'm waiting.", his words hang in the air, leaving you in a state of both frustration and arousal. There was an ache in your core that could only be satisfied by his touch.

You contemplate for a second, weighing if your pride was worth the sexual frustration for the rest of the night. It didn't take you long to make the decision, "Oh for fucks sakes George", you exclaim, your annoyance evident as you roll your eyes and scream out in frustration, "Get back in here, you wanker!" You wait for a moment, anticipation building, before George came back into view, a cocky smirk playing on his lips as he stands with his arms crossed over his chest.

"That's not how this is gonna work angel," George's words send a shiver down your spine, "If you want it, beg." the command in his voice igniting a fiery need within you. Pushing yourself off the counter, your legs shake as you step onto the cold bathroom floor. George watches you with a proud smirk, his eyes gleaming with want.

You slowly pad over to him, feeling the intensity of his gaze as you approach. Meeting him just outside the bathroom, you reach out, placing a hand on his chest, your fingers brushing lightly against his skin as you look up at him with hooded eyes. "George, please…" you begin, your voice thick with desire, but he remains silent, waiting for more.

"George, please… fuck me," you plead, your words dripping with longing as you meet his gaze. The air thick with tension between you two.

Your desperation draws a satisfied smirk to his face. He would have loved hearing you beg for longer, reveling in the power it gave him over you. However, the undeniable arousal stirring in his pants demanded immediate attention, and at this point, he couldn't resist the urge to simply lose himself in the act of fucking you.

George's lips attach to yours in a sense of urgency. He grabs onto your waist as he pushes you against the wall. "Jump," George says. Without hesitation, you obediently wrap your legs around him, your body responding instinctively to his dominant tone. His hands slide beneath your ass, supporting you effortlessly as he kneads your flesh. The kiss is raw and primal. Your hands instinctively come around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair as you pull him closer.

The strap of your dress slips off in the heat of the moment. George seizes the opportunity, pushing the dress further down, exposing your breasts to the cool air of the room. A soft gasp escapes your lips at the sudden exposure, sending a thrill through your body.

His hands trail up to cup one of your tits, giving it a firm squeeze. George attaches his hot mouth to your bare breast, swirling his tongue around the nipple. You moan in response, your back arching instinctively as you press your tit into his face, craving more of his intoxicating touch.

"George…" you gasp between heated kisses, "I need you right now." With a sense of urgency, you unbutton his shirt. As his shirt falls away, your hands freely roam his body, tracing the lines of his muscular form before settling on his large biceps, feeling their strength beneath your touch. George leans in close, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers, "You have no idea how much I've been craving you all day" he murmurs, his voice filled with hunger.

"Just fuck me already," you plead, starting to get more and more impatient. With a swift motion, George gathers you in his arms, carrying you effortlessly to the bed.

George lowers you down on the edge of the bed, your lips still locked in a fervent kiss. He reluctantly beaks away, feeling your lips chasing his, not ready to break your kiss just yet.

With a tender touch, he assists you in removing your dress, which had become bunched up around your waist. He steps back a bit as he begins to unbuckle his belt, you eagerly help him, your fingers unbuttoning his pants and discarding them to the side, leaving him clad only in his boxers.

Your eyes can't help but wander to the bulge straining against the fabric, his cock hard and throbbing with desire, a visible wet spot on his boxers from the precum. With a soft moan, you find yourself unable to resist reaching out to trace the outline of his arousal, your touch sending shivers of pleasure coursing through his body.

He nudges you back slightly, and you eagerly comply, crawling further onto the bed, the desire to have him close reaching its peak. As you sit up on your arms, you take a moment to admire him, your eyes locking in a silent exchange filled with mutual appreciation and desire. George's gaze shamelessly roams your naked body, his admiration evident in every lingering glance.

"You're the most beautiful woman I've ever laid my eyes on Y/N," George says, his voice filled with genuine admiration. But to you, he was the epitome of beauty itself. In the dimly lit bedroom, illuminated only by the moonlight streaming through the windows, George looked like a Greek god, his sculpted abs, broad chest and shoulders, and thick, toned legs rendered him utterly irresistible. While it wasn't the first time you had seen him naked, it never ceased to amaze you just how perfect he truly was.

With his eyes locked on yours, George takes his boxers off, his hard cock springing out, finally free from its confines. The tip red and glistening with precum. He takes it in his hand and gives it a few good pumps. George then strides over to his open suitcase, retrieving a condom with a sense of relief that he had packed a whole box. He rips open the packet and slides it onto his length.

With a hungry gaze, he crawls onto the bed, making his way over to you. With a firm yet gentle touch, he pushes your legs apart, settling himself between them, ready to indulge in the passion that awaits.

He rubs the tip of his cock along your soaking folds, "George", you moan out at the sensation, hands digging into his biceps, urging him closer. George's mouth trails along your collarbone, placing hot, open-mouthed kisses that send tingles of pleasure courses through your body.

Without further warning, George slams into you in one powerful thrust, eliciting a strangled groan from your lips as euphoric bliss floods your senses. As he bottoms out inside you, pausing momentarily to let you adjust to his girth, a wave of pleasure washes over you. Even though he hadn't started moving yet, you already felt your orgasm on the brink of spilling over.

George grabs ahold of your hips, his grip firm as he presses your body against the mattress, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. The pace of his movements drives you crazy, your mind consumed with the overwhelming sensation of him inside you. "Holy shit, George," you moan out, the intensity of the moment turning you into a trembling, moaning mess.

Hearing his name on your lips sends George into a frenzy, his own desire matching yours as he speeds up his pace, each movement becoming more urgent, more primal. Your hands clutch at the sheets, knuckles turning white from the force of your grip as you surrender to the pleasure that consumes you both.

One of your legs instinctively wraps around his waist, drawing him closer to you as your hands come up to his back, pulling him close. You revel in the feeling of his weight pressing against you. As he thrusts faster against you, your whimpering moans fill the room.

"Fuck, you feel so good, Y/N," George moans, his voice laced with lust. "You take me so well, such a good girl." he moans. His words have you involuntarily clenching around him. The sensation elicits a groan from George, the pleasure of your tightness driving him closer to the edge as well.

The sensation builds with every thrust of his hips, each movement edging you towards your orgasm. "George, I'm going to c-cum, shit," you moan, the words escaping your lips in a breathless plea. Despite your impending release, his thrusts don't cease, his intensity driving you wild.

You can't think straight anymore, lost in the overwhelming pleasure that consumes you. "Fuck, please, I can't take it anymore… I’m so close," you whimper, pulling closer to the blissful release that only George can provide.

Your voice quickly begins chanting his name along with broken moans, intermingled with George's own broken groans as his thrusts start to become sloppier, signaling that he too was teetering on the edge.

Every muscle in your body tenses, your back arching as you're overwhelmed by your impending release. "Fuck, George, you feel so good inside me… George, ahh!!" you cry out, your release a raw moan as your orgasm crashes over you like a wave, leaving you seeing stars.

George continues his relentless pace, allowing you to ride out your orgasm. As your climax peaks, George follows closely behind, his release filling the condom with warmth as he screams out your name in pure pleasure, "Shit, Y/N!" The room fills up with a mixture of your moans as you both come down from your highs.

With that, George collapses over you, balancing his weight on his arms to ensure he doesn't crush you. Both of your bodies are covered in sweat, chests heaving against each other. His face nuzzles into your neck, and for a moment, you both stay quiet, just listening to the pounding of his heart—a melody to your ears.

You're the first to break the silence. "I should tease you more often," you say with a playful grin.

George pushes up to look at you, a playful smile dancing on his lips as he replies, "Don't even think about it, love." With a gentle motion, he pulls out of you and lands next to you.

With a contented sigh, George pulls you onto his chest, his arms wrapping around your shoulders, his hand gently playing with your hair. "Did you have a good birthday love?" he asks softly.

You look up at him and smile, "Yes, I did, Georgie. Thank you" you reply, placing a peck on his chest, feeling warmth spread through your heart as he sweetly kisses you on your forehead.

"Well, there's no way that we are going to be able to make it to our reservation," you laugh, acknowledging the obvious.

George chuckles in agreement, then asks, "Room service?"

You look at him and nod, "Room service."

The two of you spend the rest of your evening cuddling and enjoying your dinner overlooking the water from the outdoor seating area of your villa. The soft glow of the moonlight casts a romantic ambiance over the scene, creating a perfect backdrop for your special evening, knowing that you couldn't have asked for a more perfect birthday with a more perfect man.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

A/N: God, I suck at endings. I've been so stressed at work recently and all I can think about is going on vacation, it's all my brain let me write about. Also, Thank you to everyone who has been sending me requests, I'm absolutely loving all the ideas, keep em' coming!

Check out my other fics and oneshots here. Not working on any new requests currently but feel free to drop into my asks for a chat! 😊

#george clarke #georgeclarkey #george clarke smut #youtuber smut #smut #chaos crew #chaos crew smut #george clarke imagines #georgeclarkey smut #george clarke x reader #arthurtv #ChrisMD #arthur hill #arthur frederick #chris dixon #george clarkey

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hiraethwa · 2 months

Text

𓈒 𓏸 — ghost of you

dancing through our house with the ghost of you

pairing: kuroo x reader a/n: pls yell at me thank you <3 i was on my period when the idea was concocted, blame my period :) word count: 6.7k bonus: listen to playlist while reading

“all we have to do is lower the net.” nekomata sensei’s comment became words that shaped kuroo tetsuro’s past, present and future. words that ignited his love for volleyball and fueled his purpose.

kuroo tetsuro, whose entire life mission is to lower the net, his passion for volleyball being the driving force to make the sport accessible for all. kuroo tetsuro, who joined the japan volleyball association straight out of university, because he is certain of his purpose.

kuroo tetsuro, whose singular life mission is to lower the net—that is, until he met you, the official setter for japan’s national women’s volleyball team at the young age of 21.

at 24, kuroo had been in the jva sports promotional division for a few years now, having seen all sorts of players whether it be setters or spikers, liberos or middle blockers. but you, with your flawless setting form, the cunningness in your eyes and the cogs spinning behind them, and your utmost dedication to your spikers, you caught him by surprise.

his immediate thought was that your impeccable technique reminded him of kageyama. certainly, to say that would be an insult to who you are as a setter. after all, you are you and he is him. no two setters are the same.

kuroo might as well have fallen to his knees the moment he saw your seamless cross court set.

by the grace of some deity, kuroo tetsuro did not. he somehow managed to introduce himself to you without embarrassing himself when your team took a break, using his position with the jva as an excuse. apparently, it was something he did with all the new players for the national team—a complete lie that he came up with on the fly.

“kuroo tetsuro, kuroo-san.” he thinks he was a goner the moment he heard his name rolling off your tongue, the timbre of your voice dulcet yet firm, as he handed you his business card. he almost asked you to call him tetsuro, but he caught himself in time, cursing kenma for infecting him with his casual mannerisms.

since that day, kuroo started to find excuses to stop by the women’s volleyball practice more often, for case studies, he said. he learned that you started playing volleyball at 8, and that you wanted to be a setter because you hated digs, and you loved doing sets and coming up with strategies to mess with the opposing team’s minds.

thanks to the internet, he also learned that you are one of the most prominent, rising setters in the global volleyball scene, one of a handful of setters who has an unreadable setting form.

“i’m still not good at serving though,” you said to him one day, frowning. he opened his mouth to disagree, but one of the other players waved at you to get back to practice. you commented offhandedly, “anyway, yuki-senpai told me you are showing up a lot lately since i joined.”

you didn’t give him a chance to explain himself, however, dropping your towel on the bench and running back to the court. kuroo promised himself that he would ask you out the next time he sees you.

at least, that was what he told himself for the last three times he stopped by practice in the past two weeks.

“you know, i was under the impression that the jva office is in this building, but i recently found out that it’s actually two train stations away.” you took a swig of your pocari sweat, composing yourself for your next question. “is there a reason you seem to always be here, kuroo-san?”

that was the day kuroo folded, finally asking you out on a proper date. he somehow managed to get a reservation for two at 8pm at the up-and-coming omakase place in ginza by calling in a few favors.

you knocked the breath out of him when you exited the subway gates in a flowy summer dress. he almost forgot his own name as you walked up to him, a shy smile on your lips after locating him in the rush hour crowd.

to this day, he wonders how you did it—finding him, another suited office worker in the packed subway station.

to his disappointment, he found himself outside the restaurant after an uneventful dinner. the fine dining atmosphere provided little to no opening for any meaningful conversation, save for a few hushed whispers exchanged between the two of you.

looking at you, he wondered if you would give him a second chance. you, with stars in your eyes and a light blush across your cheeks, courtesy of the sake you drank.

probably not. kuroo tetsuro was too much of a coward to ask, for he prepared to bid you good night just as you opened your mouth to say something.

“i know a yakitori place not far from here, wanna go?” kuroo blinked, lifting his head to meet your eyes, surprise shining through his own.

a grin threatened to split his face. “with you? anywhere.”

you ended up bonding over meat skewers and beers in the cramped hole-in-the-wall yakitori bar frequented by salarymen after long days of work better than you did at the fancy omakase restaurant.

that night kuroo tetsuro learned that despite your star-studded status, you never learned to enjoy the luxury that came with it, preferring to keep to the familiar comforts of your university days.

“i know a really good onigiri place,” kuroo remarked at the end of the night, having ridden the train back to your place with you to ensure you get home safe and sound.

“oh? maybe i know where it is,” curiosity lined your eyes as you prattled off the top onigiri restaurants you have found in tokyo. “so, where is it, kuroo-san?”

“osaka,” kuroo grinned at you. he was taking a rather large gamble, asking you on a second date to a different city, but he had a feeling you would say yes.

you blinked, a smile growing at your lips, and without missing another beat, “i hear it’s only two hours away by shinkansen.”

just like that, kuroo met his match in you. he never stood a chance against you; one date quickly turned into two, into three, and many, many more.

it was a whirlwind romance across the eastern country full of stolen time shared with each other. a weekend in okinawa, only the two of you with the clear skies and the vast ocean. strolling through the streets of osaka, young and in love. meeting you in another city during your away games, proudly cheering your team on.

visiting the daigo-ji temple late fall in kyoto, making saisen, the customary money offering, with five-yen coins before bowing with pressed palms and offering your prayers. kuroo had stolen a glance at you in that short moment, finding himself hoping that the gods were listening to his prayers.

then a week later, when kuroo got on one knee just a few weeks shy of your one year anniversary, ring in hand, asking you to be his wife, you had said yes without hesitation. that day, he promised himself that you would not end up like his parents.

you got married in the middle of volleyball season, spurred on by the desire to have your wedding anniversary on the same date as your dating anniversary. it was an intimate event, only close family and friends were invited to the celebration of your love. you had both agreed that it was best to keep it quiet from the press to avoid any unwanted public attention—and pressure.

and so you exchanged your vows under an arch draped with dusk pink flowers of every type surrounded by the people who knew you best; to cherish and to hold the other always, and to remember love. tears of happiness were shed at the altar, a river merely from the two of you.

even with two left feet, you danced the night away with the love of your life, before the guests sent you off on your short honeymoon getaway to an onsen resort at fuji-san. only two people who were madly in love, basking in each other’s undivided attention before duty calls you back to tokyo.

and so kuroo tetsuro finds another purpose in life—you.

now, kuroo admits that it has been a while since he got time to have you to himself. both your work have been swallowing up your time since you got back from fuji-san almost a year ago, but you still managed to make time for each other, even if you are not going on dates.

he thinks he is a lucky man to have the honor of calling you his wife.

almost a whole year already, huh. kuroo makes a mental note to make a reservation at the restaurant where he proposed to you.

“kuroo-san, yoshida-san wants to see you.” ah, yes, work calls. the previous thought slips his mind by the time he leaves his boss’s office.

soon enough, the week rolls by.

kuroo knows that he fucked up when he finds 11 missed calls from you after he sent his client off. three hours ago, nine of them within the span of the first thirty minutes, and two final attempts two hours ago. his heart drops as his eyes land on the four digit date on his homescreen. he missed your anniversary dinner.

fuck. you don’t pick up on the first two calls. his heart thunders in his chest. he thinks he hears ringing in his ears that is not the dial tone, but finally, thankfully, you pick up on the third.

“sweetheart, i am so sorry—” he blurts, strings of apologies that fall naturally from his mouth as he begs for your forgiveness. “i’m on my way home, we can still go out to the yakitori place you love—”

“i’m not home.” silence stretches between the two of you as kuroo fumbles for his words. careful, he needs to be careful of his choice of words right now.

“where are you? c-can i come find you?” he stumbles over his words, his heart still pounding too fast. all he can think about is how much he fucked up.

kuroo holds his breath, praying to the gods to look kindly upon him as he waits for your answer. in all honesty, you have every right to tell him off right now, but he desperately hopes otherwise. “i’m at the training center.”

of course. why didn’t he think of it? whenever you are frustrated, you train and let yourself loose on the court. “wait for me, i’ll be there in 20.”

you are waiting in the lobby of the facility when he gets there, panting after running the four blocks over from the subway station. “y/n, sweetheart,” he almost knocks you over with the sheer intensity of his embrace, squeezing the air of your lungs.

“tetsuro, you’re late,” a frown mars your beautiful features once he releases you, and he finds himself smoothing over the knot between your eyebrows.

“i know, i am sorry, love.” he pulls you close, your chin resting on his shoulder. “will you let me make it up to you?”

there is a second of hesitation before you answer, “okay.” but kuroo misses the look of conflict that flashes across your face, distracted with dissuading his own fears that your marriage is safe, intact.

he vows to never let you go through that again. though it never comes to that.

it’s kageyama tobio that makes you realize something is wrong with your marriage.

kageyama tobio, the pinnacle of setters in men’s volleyball as introduced by your then boyfriend, whose contact was lighting up your phone, startled you as you attempted to make dinner.

shit, shit, shit. you forgot to tell him that you won’t be able to make your monthly practice meetup today, having sprained your ankle at the practice match against france a few days ago. well… sprained would be understating the bluish-purple color blossoming on your left foot.

you fumbled for your phone, picking up the call. “kageyama-san?” the slim device is balanced between your ear and shoulder as you try to flip the omelette. damn it, it’s burnt. “ah, sorry. i forgot to tell you that i won’t be able to make it to practice today.”

“it’s fine, kuroo-san. i was at your match on sunday. are you doing alright?” right, the match that tetsuro missed again because of something that came at work with his client. work that took precedence over his promise to you to attend the match.

“oh, that? i’m fine,” you absentmindedly reached for a plate a little too far to the left, causing you to put your weight on your left foot as you catch your balance. you muffled the cry rising from your throat, hoping it didn’t carry over the call.

“that didn’t sound like you are fine.” your hands are placed on the counter, holding yourself up as you steadied yourself on your right foot. your rapid heartbeat boomed in your ears, uneven breaths leaving your mouth in small pants as you realize you could have fallen and cracked your head open on the corner of the countertop. “send me your address, i’ll be over soon.”

fuck. you felt pathetic, unable to do mundane tasks that take little to no effort with two functional ankles. but this, this you could do. hunger forgotten, you slid down next to the stove, knees to your chest, and typed in your home address to the other setter.

the buzz of your doorbell startled you from doom scrolling social media a good 45 minutes later.

you scooted over the door on your knees, unlocking the front door for kageyama, mortifyingly realizing a second too late that you should have gotten to your foot to greet your guest.

“sorry, i just need to get up—” he wordlessly lent you a hand for support as you rose up on your good foot, helping you hobble over to the living room. “thanks.”

kageyama tobio frowned at you, displeasure etched into the lines of his forehead, eyes concentrated on your discolored ankle. “it looks worse than it feels.”

he did not trust your words, for he was squatting down in front of the couch to take a look at your injury. “then this shouldn’t hurt, right?” his finger reached out to poke your ankle.

“don’t—” you winced, eyes closed in anticipation of the pain that would follow. but there isn’t any, your eyes flying open to find kageyama staring back at you in disappointment.

“kuroo-san, you need to get this looked at. it looks serious.” reluctantly, you agreed with him, expressing your consent for him to call the team physician in to assess your condition.

watching kageyama step outside your home to make the call, you felt something akin to lightning cleaving your chest open, heart exposed and breaking as you realized how much you yearned for tetsuro to be the one here right now, fussing over you.

tetsuro had been surprised to find you still at home at 9am on a monday morning.

“i twisted my ankle.” you had stated, looking up from your book momentarily when you heard him shuffling out of the bedroom dressed for work. you appreciated the view, unable to recall the last time you saw him in a suit since your schedules rarely overlapped with yours starting early in the day, and his ending late at night.

“make sure to ice it, sweetheart.” he had commented distractedly, attention on his work tablet, kissing you on your forehead on his way out. it’s not that tetsuro doesn’t love you, he has just grown forgetful over time, complacent in your marriage.

it’s too bad that complacency kills, sniffing out the weaknesses in the foundation of your love, snaking its way into crevices in the bedrock of your marriage. and just like water, it erodes the strongest rock with persistence and time.

there were only two things you loved more than life itself. one being kuroo tetsuro, the other being volleyball. and if your marriage is falling apart… what if your stubbornness made your injury worse than it was? if you didn’t have volleyball, the one thing you could always fall back on, then what would you even live for?

suddenly the room felt too small, closing in around you. your breathing turned heavy, the air in your lungs no longer enough to supply life-bearing oxygen to your bloodstream.

“you’re going to be fine.” kageyama’s voice broke you away from your internal panic. lost in your thoughts, you didn’t even hear the front door close. he leaned against the wall in the hallway, jerking his chin at you. “what if this injury cost me the spot on the olympic roster? what if i can’t play in the olympics? what if my smallest misstep cost me everything? what if i can’t play volleyball ever again?”

“what are you—” he waved his hand, cutting you off mid sentence.

“that’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it?” kageyama shook his head at you. “but kuroo-san, you’re the best setter we have, and you’re strong. you’ll make it back.” his matter-of-fact statement left no room for argument.

still, your smile did not reach your eyes. tired, you were so tired. “thanks, kageyama-san.”

“eat. the food is getting cold.” you nodded, digging into the takeout kageyama brought with him—shiozake with rice, once again wishing that tetsuro was here instead of kageyama. you swallow your food forcefully, as if the thought of tetsuro being here and telling you that the salted salmon would be beneficial for your body repairing itself didn’t cause you to crumble.

the other setter pretended he didn’t see the tears gliding down your cheeks into your food, quietly keeping you company until the physician showed up.

the team physician diagnosed you with a grade 2 ankle sprain and prescribed you plenty of rest and burden off your ankle—basically the equivalent of a bed rest as a professional athlete. she also made sure to scold you for not taking it easy after your injury and not alerting her sooner before leaving.

“is kuroo-san going to be back soon?” kageyama asked, glancing at the clock that was ticking close to 9pm. the winter (almost spring) sun had disappeared down the horizon a long time ago, and you realized he meant your husband.

“do i look like an invalid, kageyama-san? i’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“duly noted, kuroo-san.” he smiled wryly at you. kageyama slipped his shoes on, opening his mouth to say something before deciding otherwise. the front door clicked shut behind him, leaving you with his parting words of “see you next month”.

next month. he said next month. the physician had anticipated your sprain to heal in four to six weeks, with the partial tearing of your ankle ligament. four weeks. you can give yourself that. you can work with that. just 28 days before you get back on the court where you lived and breathed. just one foot forward at a time.

but those thoughts flew out of your mind as tetsuro came home early. 10:09pm. that was early for your husband who sometimes came home in the middle of the night smelling like cigarettes and beer—or not at all, when he pulled all-nighters in his office.

tetsuro, whose tie is loosened and slightly crooked, examined your foot, a frown on his handsome face. tetsuro, who is cleaning up the mess of dishes in the sink, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, as he asked about your day.

tetsuro, who made you forget all your worries and troubles about your marriage, as he doted on you, making sure you had enough water in the glass on your nightstand and propping your ankle on a pillow.

tetsuro, who made an effort to be there for you in the following weeks, making breakfast before he goes to work, leaving lunch for you in the fridge and taking his work home by 6pm so he could make you dinner. tetsuro, who took some days to work from home in the beginning, taking care of you and holding you tightly in his arms when you revealed your fears about the upcoming olympics, wiping the tears that stained your face away as if they were never there.

you remembered why you fell in love with kuroo tetsuro.

you return to the court after five weeks at home, restlessness in your bones from the long period of inactivity. you know tetsuro felt it too, eager to dive back into his work after holding himself back the first few weeks to take care of you. that made the two of you.

after two weeks, you both agreed that you have recovered enough for him to return to the office full-time. by the fifth week, he has gone back to his former habit of staying at work into the late nights and early mornings.

you convinced yourself that your husband needed to catch up on the work that was on the backburner when he had to take care of you. reassured yourself that the lack of intimacy was due to your recovery and work taking its toll on your husband.

your marriage wasn’t falling apart before your eyes. right?

you first brought your worry up to him after a month rolled by, feeling relieved when he started coming home by dinner again, only to find him slipping back into his routine. so you do it again. and again.

and again.

but as more weeks fly by, the olympics on the horizon, his behavior unchanged despite your attempts at saving your marriage, you start to wonder if he remembered why he fell in love with you.

you can’t say that tetsuro never makes an effort. he does, although work seems to always be on the forefront of his mind, taking up whatever space is in his head.

“can i call you back, sweetheart? suzuki-san wants to speak to me about my proposal.” you presume suzuki-san is his boss, even though the name sounds unfamiliar to you.

“sure, but it’s just— honey, we barely see each other anymore.” it’s a slap to the face when you realize you’re speaking to the dial tone.

it feels as though each time you take a step forward to repair your relationship, you take two steps back. kuroo’s work always comes up on top. the better he gets at his job, the more in demand he becomes, the more projects with high visibility gets assigned to him, the more his passion for volleyball takes him away from you.

you are at the crossroads within yourself, each turn at odds with your beliefs, your wishes, your love for kuroo tetsuro. you never faulted him for being so devoted to his job. after all, are you not the same? how can you fault him for something you love about him?

assigning blame is not equivalent to feeling resentment, however. you hated the feeling of resentment towards kuroo with each missed date, with each broken promise, with each night of waking up to a cold bed. you were afraid of what awaits you at the end of the road.

you love kuroo tetsuro. that is a fact. you love yourself. that is also a fact.

so how can you ever make him choose between you and volleyball? you will not force that ultimatum upon him, not even knowing your own answer to it. but you love kuroo tetsuro, the same way you love volleyball. the same way he loves volleyball.

you decide you would rather be the villain in his story before you make him choose.

you love kuroo tetsuro. that is why you made your decision to leave with love in your heart before love turns to poison. after all, love and hate go hand in hand, and you are already walking the fine line between them.

you make an appointment with his secretary, smiling wistfully at her as you walk into his office. kuroo has climbed the ladder to a height you can no longer reach.

the cubicle that you used to drop by is now occupied by an unfamiliar face, where photos of the two of you once covered one entire wall. in contrast, his neat office is effectively devoid of all traces of your relationship, save for the ring on his finger.

“sweetheart?” he perks up at the sight of you before a frown appears on his handsome face. his bedhead still a constant feature of his. at least some things never change. “it’s great to see you, but i have a 2pm coming in soon.”

his comment should not hurt as much as it does. but of course it does, you still love kuroo desperately, you’re just not sure if that is enough anymore.

“kuroo, i’m your 2pm.”

“oh,” confusion flashes across his features for a quick second before it disappears. “well, what can i do for you, sweetheart?”

for all the different ways you have thought of this conversation going, all the different ways of easing into the topic, you can’t seem to find the words to break his heart.

right person, wrong time. you would be lying if you said you never thought of it. of what could have been if you met him later on in his career, when he has done all he wanted to do, when he has achieved what he set out for. would he have time for you then?

would it be the kuroo tetsuro you fell in love with?

that was the most difficult question you grappled with the past few weeks as you waited for your lawyer to draft the papers. would your relationship work out if you had met each other in your prime, perhaps a few years from now, when you have both reached the height of your careers? when the strenuous uphill battles of establishing yourselves in your fields are over?

perhaps. perhaps you could have settled down, the days of grinding far behind you. perhaps you could have had the happily ever after you both deserved.

answers that will forever evade you because in this timeline, in this universe, you met too early, too young. right person, wrong time.

you wordlessly hand him the brown packet of divorce papers. there are simply no words that would make this any easier.

“what are these—” he slumps in his chair, defeat written in his being. “divorce? sweetheart, isn’t this going too far? we can talk things out when i come home. i don’t have time right now.”

“kuroo, you haven’t had time in a long while. that is why i am filing for divorce.”

“we talked about this. i am busy now, but i will have time for us later. all the work i am doing is for our future. please, y/n.”

“but i don’t need your time later. i need it now, kuroo.” you grip the edge of his table tightly, knuckles turning white with force. and yet, tears still slip from your eyes. “sign the papers, tetsuro. just let me go.”

if you’re the one ending the marriage, why does it feel like your heart is ripped out of your chest?

kuroo has seen you cry a total of three times in your entire relationship. once when you got married. second when your maternal grandfather passed away. third when you hurt your ankle, unsure if you would be able to compete in the olympics. tears that shocked him to the core, because he knows you mean it.

minutes pass by without another word exchanged between you. stolen minutes that used to be full of laughter and hushed conversations.

you see it now, you think. the time that used to be carved out of your days for each other, whether it was a quick call or lunch, sharing downtime before bed watching some tv or simply cuddling and merely enjoying each other’s presence. you both used to do that, used to each other’s packed schedules. somewhere along the line, kuroo stopped.

you did too, not pushing him harder to give you more time sooner. you tried to play the role of an understanding wife and support his dreams until it was too late. to what end?

in the end, you both failed each other.

it was that realization that made you understand — you and kuroo tetsuro were doomed from the start. doomed by your love. doomed by the very thing that brought you together. two souls in the universe shooting in opposite trajectories, fated to cross paths for a brief moment in time before barreling onwards to your next destination, destined for loneliness.

but kuroo refused to give up without a fight. though you wondered if it was because he loved you or because he felt like he had to.

you went on dates every week and kuroo came home for dinner every night. he kissed you on your forehead every night before you turned on your side, two strangers sharing the same bed.

the two of you tiptoeing over the broken pieces of your marriage, choosing to turn a blind eye to the way your hands don’t seem to fit quite right. the chopsticks you made in a workshop to commemorate your anniversary warped in the dishwasher from disregard. the shape of your bodies no longer fitting together like two puzzle pieces, as if you have outgrown each other.

the cup of matcha on your side of the table has long since gone cold. you didn’t have the heart to remind your husband that you don’t like the grassy drink anymore, hadn’t in a while.

you see a husband who is desperately trying to save his marriage, but you also notice the lines in the corners of his eyes, the smiles that don't seem to reach his eyes no more. the cracks in his composure when he loses his temper.

his efforts felt forced, duty-bound. so were yours. it wasn’t until that understanding that you finally put a name to the reason you are still trying after months—you were both scared of losing the familiarity, the ghost of your past selves still fighting to hold onto what once was.

for three whole weeks during the olympics, you mull over the packet of papers that still sits untouched beneath your winter clothes in your bottom drawer of your shared apartment. by the time you fly home to japan, your mind is made.

this time though, you think kuroo saw it coming.

“can’t you see that i am trying my best here?” the shadows underneath his eyes remind you of a past that you cannot return to.

“sometimes our best is still too late.” kuroo y/n no longer sounds quite right coming off your tongue.

the evidence of your crumbling marriage lies bare in your absence. you could tell from the piles of project folders on your kitchen island that kuroo had been working himself to the bones while you were away, glad for the reprieve from splitting his focus between you and work.

“but i love you.”

“does the moon die every morning for the sun because that is all it knows or because it loves the sun?”

kuroo slumps next to you, face buried in his hands.

“don’t leave me, y/n.” his voice was broken and small.

“it’s okay, tetsuro. it’s okay to let me go. we had a good run. just because we couldn’t last didn’t mean we failed.” you let kuroo find comfort in your arms one last time, running your fingers through his black hair and rubbing his back tenderly. “it’s okay.”

and so he lets you go, his name scrawled on each dotted line on the damned papers.

by the end, you still loved kuroo tetsuro. you were just no longer in love with him. though strangely, it didn't hurt any less when you let the heavy door shut behind you, the key to what was once your home left on top of the shoe cabinet, your life packed in just two suitcases as you leave japan for good.

two years have passed since you filed the papers and changed your name back to oumae y/n, but you look just as beautiful as the day he laid his eyes on you, standing in front of him after the all stars game, the match he put together with his bare hands for japan’s monster generation. you are beautiful, and you are here. in person. right in front of him.

he wonders if he had died and gone to heaven because whatever gods are out there have listened to his prayers, and answered again.

kuroo thinks he should probably get on the ground, grovel on his knees and beg for you to take him back. he knows you wouldn’t though, you were always disciplined like that. but you never looked back, another thing he loved dearly about you.

you still looked at him like you see through him to the core of who he was, seemingly able to get a perfect read on people you meet.

“what?” you had woken up to kuroo admiring you in your sleep, the sun streaming in through the blinds hitting your face at just the right angle that kuroo thinks you might be an angel from heaven.

“nothing, just admiring how much of a gremlin you look like when sleeping.” your jaw had dropped open at kuroo’s audacity, causing him to cackle loudly as you smacked him with a pillow.

“careful now, don’t knock over the coffee,” kuroo stuck his tongue out at you childishly. you tucked your hair behind your ear, carefully lifting the coffee mug to your lips, white sheet gathered under your arms to cover your naked body.

though there is more depth behind your eyes now, more restraint written in your body language. and the coffee mug now sits untouched on the nightstand on your side of the bed, as if you’re still there in that apartment, laughing, dancing, waking up next to him if he closed his eyes and dreamed hard enough.

he racks his brain of the possible lines he could open the conversation with, ending up with a lame “did you enjoy the match, y/n?” y/n, not sweetheart, because he has long since lost the privilege to use that name when it came to you.

despite himself, and his knowing of you, he can’t help the small hope that flares to life within him at the sight of you. he knows that you have moved abroad to italy, joining aeroitalia smi roma since you went your separate ways. he still wakes up each morning, scouring news websites for anything about you, a habit he formed after he stopped waking up to a warmness on your side of the bed.

“kuroo,” you give him a polite smile, reminding him of the distance that now stretches miles between the two of you. kuroo, you called him kuroo. right, it has been a while since kuroo belonged to both of you. “it was an amazing match. all thanks to you, i am sure?”

it’s only natural that he can’t help the wide grin on his face, proud of his sweat and tears, his project that he spent years planning for to be perfect, working to establish faith and credibility before finally pitching it to the higher ups. time that he dedicated to work instead of his wife.

the stark reminder wipes the grin off his face, making him grow serious once more.

“tell me, how have you been? how’s italy treating you?”

“i’m doing well. italy is beautiful, you should visit someday.” he takes a step closer to you, but you make no move to distance yourself.

so he takes another step, hand outreached towards you. he missed you so much. he wonders if you did too. “i’m so sorry, y/n, i—”

but a voice behind him cuts him off, “kuroo-san, y/n.”

he wishes that he is mistaken in hearing the gentleness in the olympian setter’s voice when he said your name. just as he realizes whose number is on the jersey you are wearing.

kageyama tobio stands next to you, too close to just be friends. “everything good here?” kuroo wishes that he is mistaken in seeing the softness in kageyama’s eyes sweeping over you from head to toe to make sure you are alright.

“of course. go ahead, i will catch up to you.” the dark-haired setter cocks his head at you, a silent conversation passes between the two of you before he decides that he is satisfied with whatever it is you conveyed to him wordlessly and leaves the two of you alone.

kuroo stumbles over his thoughts, shock seeping into his system. you had moved on. with kageyama.

betrayal sears hot across his chest as he recalls kageyama calling him when you had injured your ankle, worry carrying over the line. he didn’t think much of it then, rushing home as soon as he could to take care of you.

even so, it was kageyama, practically a work colleague who noticed that your injury was much more serious than you let on. it was kageyama, who made sure a doctor saw to your injury, not kuroo, your husband. your ex-husband.

did whatever you had with kageyama start then?

kuroo shoves that awful thought down, deep within himself where it would never see the light of day. you would never do that to him. he forces the words out of his mouth, anything to keep his mind from ever going back to that. “kageyama, huh?”

“he is the better half of me.” the sincerity in your voice makes him envious of the setter. the word unfair crosses his thoughts, but he also banishes that. kuroo had a chance with you first. he built a whole life with you before he threw it all away.

he must not have shut out that repulsive thought as well as he thought because you sniff out the doubt in him as you always did. “ask me, kuroo.”

“when did you two…?” he does not dare to ask it outright, finding it offensive even on your behalf.

but somehow you know the question he is asking. “it happened in italy after i moved there.” the unspoken words relieving the heaviness on his chest. i didn’t cheat on you.

“are you happy?” he could not help but ask. you hadn’t seemed happy in the last few months of your marriage, you hadn’t been in a long time because of his negligence as your husband.

“yes, i am.” your reply is quick and firm.

“good.” because gods know that he was not a good husband to you. because you deserved the very best anyone had to offer. and if it was kageyama who could do that, not him, kuroo could live with that. what choice does he have but to live with the fact that he let you slip through his fingers by his own fault?

yet he could not help the words that tumble out of his lips. “do you think it could have been different if i—”

“don’t go down that path, kuroo, whatever answer you find at the end of it will not be kind to you. but to answer your question, i don’t think we were meant to be.”

right. the past should stay where it belongs. only, kuroo wishes that you weren’t the only one who fell out of love. why didn’t he remember sooner before it was too late?

silence falls between the two of you, but you must have decided that you are satisfied with whatever it is you see in him, bidding him goodbye one last time.

“take care, kuroo tetsuro.” it hits him your final words to him were the same as your first ones, his name slipping out in a dulcet whisper. only this time it carries a finality it didn’t used to.

kuroo tetsuro, whose entire life mission is to lower the net. he has achieved it—but at what cost?

tags: @tulip-room @bookskeepers a/n pt 2: notice how tetsuro slowly becomes kuroo and i oop—

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looking for more? browse the library

#haikyuu #hq angst #haikyuu angst #kuroo tetsuro angst #kuroo tetsuro #kuroo tetsuro x reader #hq kuroo #kuroo x reader #kuroo angst #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsuro x y/n #hq #hiraethwa writes #angst #haikyuu kuroo

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bettyfrommars · 9 months

Text

Dirty Metal Summer

a Dirty Dancing au

Part 1: Big Girls Don't Cry

Eddie x fem!Reader

MASTERLIST PLAYLIST

It's 1987, the same year the movie Dirty Dancing was originally released. 21-year-old reader is spending the summer with her dad and aunt at an all-inclusive resort in Indiana while she figures out what she wants to do with her life. After that summer, nothing will never be the same. Eddie is in his late 20’s and works as maintenance staff, he is also the frontman for the house band, begrudgingly delivering top 40 hits for the guests, and a secret third thing. When work is over, there is a completely different scene happening at a place the employees call The Hideout. Wayne is the head maintenance man, Chrissy is a metalhead, and a few other surprises. Bonus: Steve as a sexy, tattooed musician because I can't help myself.

my blog is always 18+only, MDNI please. The only warnings for the first chapter have to do with mention of a death of a parent, mention of grief, allusions to depression, a tiny bit of aggression, and alcohol consumption. But please read chapter warnings as the story progresses, because there will be angst, hurt/comfort, violence (fighting), and smut. Reader is called Bird as a nickname.

A/N: this is a rewrite of an OC fic I wrote over a year ago, and damn, I really needed to change a lot because my writing has evolved so much. I know I posted a snippet last week, but it's all been changed. Thank you to those who have been excited about this, I know Dirty Dancing is a cherished film, so I am treating this retelling with reverence, while adding some creative spins, and I truly hope you enjoy. The ST characters in this fic do not know each other in the same way they did in the show. For instance, Eddie, Steve, and Chrissy all grew up together, but I do my best to stick with their original character traits. This first part lines up very close with the film, but after that, it diverges and becomes a bit different. Same story line, but also not.

Part 1: Big Girls Don't Cry

word count: 6.3k

The soft murmur of a talk radio station hummed in the cement gray Mercedes-Benz 560, with your dad behind the wheel and his sister, your aunt Kim, in the passenger seat. From the backseat, you stared out the window with your headphones on, wishing for rain. The scenery was what you would expect from a place on earth that everyone considered idyllic, but you’d been exposed to so much lush greenery with that bright blue, theater backdrop of a sky for the last hour that you were starting to get a headache.

You pushed your wayfarer sunglasses up to rub the bridge of your nose, and then flipped the tape over in your Walkman before clicking it shut to press play. You were listening to a mixtape you’d made especially for the trip, the spine even said “road trip from hell”, but the first one on side b was Everywhere by Fleetwood Mac, and you closed your eyes for the next several songs. You were doing your best not to think about how you’d be trapped in BFE Indiana for a whole month.

You were also doing your best not to think about how your mother would not be home when you got back, or worse yet, the fact that you would never see her again. Never feel her generous hugs in those Laura Ashley dresses, smelling of Shalimar; never hear her voice at the other end of the line reminding you to eat something.

Your aunt said your name and your eyes snapped open. It was perfect timing because tears were beginning to form at your lash line. She had turned around in her seat and was trying to get your attention.

You pulled your headphones down around your neck. “Sorry?”

“The lake,” the expression on her face harbored more excitement than you’d ever felt in your entire life. “Isn’t it gorgeous? We’re going to get pedicures at the spa tomorrow, I already booked it.”

You glanced at your father’s stoic profile and then back to Kim. You felt bad for your aunt, getting stuck on a trip with two sad, mopey fucks who were too depressed to get excited about the things that thrilled normal people. You were the walking wounded.

“Pedicures, great,” your smile did not reach your eyes, but she didn’t seem to notice, as her enthusiasm doggedly refused to wane.

It had been almost four months since you lost her, and the world was still too…bright. Everyone was so talkative and alive and you couldn’t relate.

You looked out over the smooth expanse of lake that was nestled perfectly in the trees like you were in some type of miniature scale model rebuild of a town. Your aunt asked your dad, Owen, if he was still listening to the news, and when he shook his head, she changed the radio station to a golden oldies station and was satisfied with the tune Big Girls Don’t Cry by Frankie Vallie.

“You’ll love this cabin, Bird,” your dad said to you as the Mercedes crested the hill and began to maneuver down to your destination on a narrow, two-lane highway flanked with towering trees. A big green and white sign welcomed them to Hawkins Landing. “There’s a whole top floor where you can set up for your lessons.”

You turned away, back to the window, hiding the way your nose wrinkled. You thought maybe a perk of this getaway would be to have a break from practicing the cello you’d been tied to for over a decade, but no luck. He’d been forced to give up his dream of being a musician, and now you were expected to carry the torch for him.

You tried to come up with one thing you did in life that was not to please someone else, or boost some idea they had about you, and couldn’t come up with squat.

Besides reading. And taking long walks with music to clear your head. Those two were yours, and they could only be taken from your cold, dead, hands.

From the Hawkins Landing brochure your aunt had given you, it was clear that the property was enormous. Some 30 or 40 guest cabins scattered around, a main house that functioned as a hotel but also housed two different restaurants. A golf course, boat rentals, tennis courts, an outdoor theater, and a third restaurant situated on the water. Along with the full service spa, there were indoor and outdoor swimming pools, plus any class you could imagine wanting to take, from salsa dancing and water skiing, to chess and crochet.

Hawkins Landing was like a camp for adults who enjoyed alcoholic beverages.

There was a security checkpoint at the main entrance with two guards inside. The taller one with the neatly trimmed red beard recognized your father from the jacket cover on one of his many books. Thrillers mostly, horror if you squint. He nervously asked for an autograph, but Owen was very polite, adjusting his tortoise shell glass as he took the black marker that the guard was offering him.

After the checkpoint, it wasn’t long before the road opened into an expansive rose garden with a large fountain dead center, and the big main house with its wrap-around porch just to the right. You pushed your sunglasses up to get a look at the people mingling around, getting the idea that the median age there was 45, and it was mostly families.

The guards had given your dad a foldout map of the property and told him to check in at the main house to get the keys to the cabin they were staying in. The car moved at a crawl at the roundabout, and then came to park where a sign announced new guest check-ins.

Your dad told you to sit tight while he went in to grab the keys, and your attention trailed off to a black golf cart with a white awning that wheeled in like a racecar and took position in front of the Mercedes. It sat there close to the curb, idling. You could see there was a woman behind the wheel, and she was looking straight ahead, giving you her profile. Chin length, dark gold hair, just long enough for a ponytail, and the words “Hawkins Landing Staff” written in yellow cursive on the back of her navy blue jacket. Where her sleeve was pushed up at her elbow, you noticed some type of tattooed lettering there, and her fingernails were painted black.

Up ahead, you caught sight of someone strolling down the sidewalk toward the car with a hand in his pocket. It was a guy with honey tipped chocolate hair styled in a pompadour with a curl that bounced at his forehead, wearing tan chinos and a maroon, button down short sleeve with the square bulge of a pack of smokes in his front pocket. A tattoo peeked out from the V of his shirt, and there was another design on his bicep. He wore a pinky ring on one hand and rolled a toothpick around in his mouth as he sidled up to the golf cart to say something to the woman driving it. They bumped knuckles and talked for a bit like they were very familiar, him with one foot up on the running board of the cart.

“Steve, there you are,” from the open window, your attention bounced to a short, dark haired woman who’d just come out of the building and stood alongside your dad on the sidewalk. A closer look told you that her name tag said Joyce.

The guy with the toothpick in his mouth straightened, smoothing the front of his shirt with his hand. “Hey Joyce, I was just—”

Apparently uninterested in what he was about to say, she took him by the crook of the arm. She introduced you all by your family name, and let him know that you were “her special guests”, and you assumed that had to do with your dad being a famous author, or maybe she said that about every new family. While you chose to not do much else than offer a small wave from the back seat like you had no autonomy, Kim got out to greet them properly.

“This is Steve,” Joyce gestured to him with a Vanna White hand. “If you ever want to take guitar lessons this summer, he’s one of our best.”

“Or, if you just want to have some fun,” Steve’s eyes seemed to be searching Kim’s face, and then he shrugged. “I mean, I run the boats on the dock too, so if you want to ski or—”

Kim got flustered and tried to find her words, fussing with the lapel of her corduroy jacket in a way you’d never witnessed before. “I’m…I mean, sure, who wouldn’t want to be on the lake at a place like this?”

Kim hated boats and got seasick very easily, so you found her new interest amusing.

Joyce politely waved Steve off and he went, albeit reluctantly, backing up with slow steps to wave farewell. The smile stretching across his face grew wider the longer Kim couldn’t take her eyes off of him. When he was finally jogging up the sidewalk to get to where he needed to be, Joyce continued to try and sell Kim and your dad on the resort, even though you were already booked for the month.

“Sunday night is Bingo night. There’s karaoke in The Antler Room on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and you need to check out our house band if you can. They’re playing tonight on the back patio, and the rhythm guitar is sensational. She used to perform with Vixen and Lita Ford,” she handed over the necessary keys and pointed the way to get to the cabin on the map.

“Just follow us,” Joyce said, hopping into the golf cart next to the girl with the forearm tattoo.

They led the way down a long, winding stretch with lush lawn and manicured hedges on either side, littered with people coming up from the pool in their bathing suits. There appeared to be a Tai Chi lesson happening on the lawn near the rose garden, and some type of painting class going on just above them on a balcony.

Made you wonder why summer people always had to stay so busy.

The cabin you’d be staying in was down a side road, tucked at the end of a private driveway with a view of the lake. It had five bedrooms, which was more than enough, but one of them would immediately turn into Owen’s writing room so that he could work on his latest novel.

You were careful to tuck your Walkman into your bag as the Mercedes coasted into its parking spot. Squinting up at the place, you were somewhat distracted by how much you liked the creepy, old feel of the whitewashed cabin, and you underestimated how far from the curb you were when you stepped out, stumbling to the side.

The girl with the forearm tattoo caught you in both arms, preventing you from putting all of your weight on your twisted ankle.

“Whoa,” she moved her supportive grip from your waist to your elbow as you righted yourself. “You okay?”

Your heart shot into your throat, and then you coughed a laugh, covering your face. “What a way to start the summer.”

She said her name was Robin, and there was a polite handshake exchange. She tripped over her words a bit. “It’s not every day that someone falls for me.”

“Well, I’m pretty clumsy, you might need to stay close,” and the two of you shared a self-conscious laugh as you led the way to the trunk full of baggage.

When you reached in to grab your suitcase, Robin teased, “hey, that’s my job,” before leaning further in to take the oddly shaped black hard case, the satin of her jacket skimming your arm. She struggled with it at first, but then held it up by the handle and gave you a sideways look.

“This yours?” She asked, cocking one eyebrow up. “You’re a musician?”

“No, well, yes I am but no I, I play the cello,” you stammered, not sure why it was hard to get the words out. “But here, I can carry that. It’s big and heavy and—”

Robin winked. “I got it,” and then she snatched another suitcase with the other hand and shuffled by you to make her way up to the porch.

Once you were all settled inside and Joyce had explained all of the amenities, you and Kim pushed back the curtains and watched the two go from the living room window. Just before they took off in the cart, Robin sent you a wave.

“She looks like a nice girl,” Kim had her arms folded over her chest. “Maybe the two of you could—”

“I know you’re worried about me, okay, but I don’t need to make any friends this summer,” you were holding the case for your cello in front of you with both hands, using it as a metaphorical barrier. “I like being alone.”

By the time you put your stuff away in the bedroom you’d be staying in, your dad was already typing away in his writing room, you could hear the keys of his Selectric click-clacking.

“I’ll be back in a bit,” you called across the rustic but spacious cabin living room. “I’m going to look around the main house.”

Kim barely caught your words as she was struggling with her glasses to read an ingredient label as she put some dry goods away in the kitchen. “Mhmm sounds good, have fun. Be back in time for dinner, we have reservations at…whatever that place is called. Your dad knows.”

You tapped the Swatch on your wrist and gave an absent wave over your shoulder.

With your headphones on, you made your way down to the main sidewalk that split off in two directions, bordering either side of the swimming pool and tennis courts. You found the bike path that wound down along the lake to the boat dock, and then up into a lush pocket of dense forest. Two teenage girls on rollerblades almost crashed into you as they bolted around the bend, giggling. Trying to decide if you wanted to go toward the water or into the woods, you watched a staff member veer off onto an uneven stone pathway and your curiosity was piqued.

Creeping along in their wake, you marched up a hill for what felt like forever, with Bring on the Dancing Horses by Echo and the Bunnymen playing in your ears, until you realized with a start that you’d already arrived at the main building. It loomed up ahead like a mansion from some old gothic romance novel.

You continued to plod your way along the trunks of trees, until you spotted a group having a chat on the wide porch, and took a few steps back.

They were all leaning against the railing in a semicircle, facing each other, so that you could see the Hawkins Landing Staff on the back of a few of their navy jackets.

One of them was Steve from earlier, next to him was a girl with a blonde ponytail, and then two others.

“I met that author guy today,” Steve took a drag and then blew the smoke up in the air, away from everyone’s face. “The one who wrote Darkness on the Hill, that one they made into a movie.”

You realized that it was your dad he was talking about.

Not looking where you were stepping, you caught your toe on a tree root and your arms windmilled before you were able to find your balance, floundering to duck behind another tree. Your mouth opened in a silent scream, trying not to gasp at the pain in your foot. Grimacing, you turned the volume down on the headphones that were around your neck to better hear what they were saying.

“That actor from that one show about law and order is staying in cabin 8,” the girl with the ponytail said. “Housekeeping says he finishes a bottle of whiskey a night.”

But then, there was another voice. “Now that sounds like a great fucking vacation to me,” followed by the heavy footfalls of boots on wood as a new person approached the group.

The sight of the new arrival made you feel like your brain was wiped clean—-the whole world came to a screeching halt.

Swallowing hard, all of your attention tunneled on him; his long dark hair with bangs that crowded his eyes, a thin but muscular build, tattoos scattered over his exposed arms, and a leather jacket hooked over his shoulder with one finger. He combed a hand through his hair as he walked, chunky metal rings catching the light, and headed over to the blonde girl. You took note of every movement as she passed him her half-smoked cig and he gave her a quick kiss on the temple.

Was that his girlfriend?

He stepped back to introduce the younger guy he had with him. “This Jamie, my new maintenance trainee,” he used the hand holding his smoke to point to each one on the balcony individually. You really didn’t pay attention until he got to the blonde one. “...that one there is the lovely Chrissy, and the moody one with the hairy chest is Steve. They’re the other musicians I told you about.”

Jamie had short black, curly hair and a hoop piercing in one ear. He lit his own smoke while the metalhead started in with a story about a pump exploding at the pool house, complete with wild hand gestures.

“Hey, there the fuck you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you losers.”

Another voice, another person making their way down the long stretch of squeaky wood planks from the front of the building. You stepped closer, snapping a twig under your foot, eliciting a worried lip bite.

Everyone stayed right where they were, but for Eddie who moved in front of Jamie in a protective way. The guy approaching at a stroll had very nondescript good looks with his wheat blonde hair in a tight cut that looked freshly trimmed. While the others were dressed more casually, this one wore a white dress shirt and tie with black trousers, as if he had some fancy place to be.

“You talking to me?” The metalhead flicked his cigarette ash and stepped forward to meet the new guy before he could come any closer to the group. “Cause, if so, you might want to change your tone, precious.”

“Eddie, don’t,” Chrissy said, and then she stood up, addressing the guy in the suit. “Jason, what the fuck do you want?”

Eddie, you moved your lips, whispering the name to yourself. His name was Eddie.

Jason put his hands up in mock surrender. “Why so hostile?” He turned to Eddie. “Joyce has been trying to find you for an hour. There’s a toilet backed up in one of the cabins, and trash that needs to go to the dump. Sounds to me like you’re having a hard time doing your job, Munson.”

You scuttled like a crab, moving to a spot where you could see their faces instead of the backs of their heads.

So that you could see Eddie’s face.

Steve checked his watch and pushed off of the railing to snub his cig out on the bottom of his shoe. “I gotta run. See you bastards at the show tonight,” he said in passing, shoving both hands into his trouser pockets. He walked right into Jason, shoulder checking him, before casually going on his way. Jason shot him an evil look.

“Well,” Eddie took a deep breath. “Tell Joyce I got the message,” and then he motioned for Jamie to follow him.

“Too bad we can’t take you out with the rest of the trash, freak,” Jason mumbled, loud enough for you to hear every word, and a tension crackled in the air.

The metalhead stopped dead in his tracks and drew his shoulders back.

When he finally turned on his heel, he wore a satisfied smirk, inclining his head, as if he’d been waiting for Jason to say something all along.

Chrissy moved as if she were about to go over and break up whatever was about to happen, but one of the others put a handout and stopped her.

“Just keep sending your laundry home to mommy, baby boy, and leave the real work to me,” Eddie said, and then he flicked the butt of his cigarette at Jason’s face.

Jason moved his head just in time so that the hot cherry missed his cheek by a hair and bounced off the wall behind him, spraying sparks. Chrissy and the others snickered at how beet red Jason’s face got, but he didn’t say another word, he just waited for Eddie and Jamie to be far enough away before he went back around to the front entrance.

When the coast was clear, you stood and made your way to the path again. With a curse you realized you were going to be late for that dinner reservation, and picked up speed to a slow, sad jog.

You found yourself thinking that maybe being trapped at Hawkins Landing for the summer wouldn’t be so bad after all.

—----

Your aunt Kim gave you an exasperated look when you all finally sat down for dinner, being that you’d made everyone 20 minutes late for the reservation. There didn’t appear to be a single open table when you arrived, but Joyce had made sure to keep the one by the window facing the gardens open for your party. She came around to introduce the guy who was to be your waiter, and you sat up a little straighter in your seat when you realized it was Jason from earlier. The way he’d been dressed out on the porch made sense now, as his uniform was the same as all of the other waitstaff.

Near the end of the meal, Joyce returned to the table in her black pencil skirt and fitted jacket, but this time, she was with a guy who you could tell wanted to look like Don Johnson in Miami Vice, but it came off more as Gary from Weird Science.

“I'd like you to meet Troy, he’s the son of Mr. Brenner, the owner of the resort,” there was a reluctance about her, as if she’d been forced at gunpoint to introduce him.

Troy stared at you with an uncomfortable intensity, making your attention fall to your plate.

“I’m in charge when my father isn’t around,” Troy said with a smug grin, putting his hands in his white trouser pockets, and you spotted some type of metal retainer on his teeth.

Joyce cleared her throat, annoyed that his statement was far from true. But she recognized that it was part of her job to indulge the little shit.

“I just graduated with a business degree from Georgetown,” he gloated, giving you a wink. “This place will all be mine one day.”

Your father exchanged a look with your aunt over his chocolate mousse.

“Well, it’s nice to know someone else your age here, isn’t it, Bird? Maybe you two kids should go have some fun tonight,” Kim chirped.

If your aunt wasn’t so far away, you would’ve kicked her under the table.

Troy bent at the waist so that his face wasn’t far from yours. “I’d love to show you around after dinner, if you’re interested in a tour?”

Before you could issue a vague excuse like, “sorry I can’t, I have a headache,” Kim spoke for you again.

“I think that’s a great idea,” she even clapped her hands, applauding it.

In the end, you went with him to make Kim happy, to get her off your back, hopefully for the rest of the trip.

An hour or two with a pretentious prick wouldn’t hurt you.

—-------

Troy wasn’t bad company, but he was quite full of himself. He had interesting stories about his extensive travels, but then he also told awkward stories that were possibly fibs about how many models he’d dated, and expanded on how he wanted to be married with two kids by the time he was 30.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t imagine thinking that far ahead, and he wouldn’t let you get a word in edgewise.

You followed close behind through the huge, busy kitchen of the restaurant you’d just dined in, and he tried to hold your hand when he introduced you to the head chef, but you were sly, and pulled it away to cross your arms over your chest. He gave you a tour of the ballroom and took a stroll through the other restaurant on the opposite end of the building that had a much more relaxed feel, low lighting, red carpet, and a bar at the center.

You went down to the boat docks and walked along the pier. The stars were breathtaking, but Troy didn’t notice, he was too busy trying to convince you to go out on his boat with him. You declined, taking a page from Kim’s book to mention a freshly born curse of violent seasickness.

You had your elbows on the railing at the pier, enjoying the velvet reflection of the crescent moon in the lake, and you could feel your jaw grow tense under the weight of Troy’s stare.

On the verge of telling him you were ready to head back to your cabin, the sound of music drifted down from somewhere on the property.

Yes, no mistaking, it was Take Me Home Tonight by Eddie Money, but it was being executed with someone else’s voice, and whoever that person was had some serious pipes.

And then there was the distinct sound of a feminine voice chiming in with the parts from the song Be My Baby Now by the Ronettes in the chorus.

"Is that a live band?" You turned away from him to try and find the source of the music. It wasn’t coming from the restaurant on the water or any of the cabins to your right.

"There's a cover band every Friday out behind the main house. You want to check it out?" He held the crook of his arm out to you and hesitated before you took it. His ego sufficiently stroked now that you wanted to spend more time with him.

Around the side of the building, overlooking the golf course, was a huge, fenced in back patio garden area with a private hot tub and pool for hotel guests. Troy led you through a white arbor wound with ivy to find that there were plenty of people mingling, drinking, and dancing. The area was mostly manicured lawn, with stone pathways meandering around from a concrete floor that was right in front of the small riser that was meant to be a stage. You imagined that a million weddings had taken place there.

At the door was a bar, and Troy got you a flute of champagne, which you downed with abandon and asked for another. While he was getting your second glass, you made your way along under several boughs of white string lights to get a view of the stage and who was performing the top tier Eddie Money cover.

Just as you stepped into the crowd of people shuffling to the beat, you stopped dead in your tracks.

There he was at the mic: Eddie the metalhead.

Guitar slug low at his hips, wearing a tuxedo with light blue cummerbund and bow tie, his hair neatly combed back and fixed into a knot at the back of his head so that you could really see the curves of his face. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was performing the song against his will.

The rest of the band were dressed similarly, and you instantly knew the one strumming the bass guitar as Steve, and the woman on backup vocals rocking on the rhythm was Chrissy, who wore a conservative skirt and flats. There was also a keyboardist and a drummer, both of whom you did not recognize.

“What’s your major?” Troy asked, breaking your reverie to pass you the glass of champagne. “In college?”

You were confused for a second but then, “oh, I took the year off to…figure some things out.” The full truth of it was that you had dropped out completely and had no intention of going back.

“I spent a summer in Greece my freshman year,” he offered, unprovoked. “The women there are, wow, so smoking hot.”

The song finished and Eddie took his tuxedo jacket off, rolling up his shirt sleeves to his elbows, exposing the scattered tattoos you’d noticed earlier. He leaned over to whisper something to Chrissy, motioned at the drummer, and then stepped back into place, brushing a loose wisp of hair off his cheek.

“Find someone special for this next one,” he told the crowd, and was answered with a rush of murmurs.

The first notes to In Your Eyes by Peter Gabriel, a slow song, lit up the space, and your stomach tightened, fearing that Troy would ask you to dance. As he escorted you to the floor, you tried to keep your head down and stay to the back of the crowd, but Troy kept maneuvering you closer to the stage.

I get so lost, sometimes

Days pass and this emptiness fills my heart

When I want to run away

I drive off in my car

But whichever way I go

I come back to the place you are

You watched the performance from over Troy’s shoulder and followed his lead, shifting from foot to foot. You were mesmerized by the muscles in Eddie’s hands as he played each note, and the way Chrissy came in like an angel on the chorus.

He’d captured the attention of everyone in the garden at that moment, and there was a group of women watching him from the sidelines, whispering to each other, possibly about how they wanted to eat him alive.

They were all thinking the same thing you were: Eddie was magic.

He liked to close his eyes when he sang, so you weren’t expecting him to be staring right at you when he opened them again.

All my instincts, they return

And the grand facade, so soon will burn

Without a noise, without my pride

I reach out from the inside

He wouldn’t break eye contact, so you eventually had to; the intensity of it was giving you butterflies.

Troy stepped back and tried to get your attention. “Did you hear anything I just said?”

You nodded, but your gaze only drifted back to Eddie. Troy followed your line of sight and then dropped both of his hands with a frustrated cluck of his tongue.

"What the hell is he doing up there?" He hissed to himself when it dawned on him that Eddie had been behind the mic that whole time. "That's our goddamn maintenance guy. He shouldn't be up there."

In a huff, Troy pushed through the crowd and headed over to one of the other staff members against the fence. Bird could see him shouting and pointing over at the stage. Whatever the staff guy said did not seem to cheer him up a bit, and he came back to your side, shrugging his shoulders.

"I guess our normal front man Drew has the flu," he reported back. "It's just so hard to find reliable help these days."

Eddie was making the song his own, and that was what you liked about it.

“Let’s get out of here,” Troy put his hand on your lower back to escort you out. “The music sucks.”

—--

It was 9:30 when you made it back to the main foyer, standing in the middle of the lobby next to an obnoxious floral arrangement, when Troy tried to get you to go back to his cabin and watch a movie, only to get respectfully declined.

“Don’t worry about your parents,” Troy said, brushing his finger over your chin. “They know you’re with me, so they’re probably the happiest parents at Hawkins Landing.”

The guy had quite an ego on him, you had to give him that. It was unsurpassed by most.

In the end, you got away, and as soon as your Mary Jane’s hit the cobblestones outside the front door, you could feel yourself trotting at a quicker pace, eager to put some distance between you and Troy and everyone else, for that matter. You didn’t stop until you were far enough away from the main hotel to be able to check over your shoulder and not see it through the trees.

It was then that you realized that you had a free chunk of time, and you could do with it whatever you wished. Your dad would think you were still with Troy, and as long as you made it back to the cabin before midnight, they wouldn’t worry.

As much as it was the dead of summer, Indiana by the water had very cool nights, and you buttoned up the jean jacket you were wearing just as you noticed a yellow sign on a lamppost to the right that said: Staff Quarters, No Guests Allowed Beyond This Point

And that made you want to venture in even more.

You checked around to make sure there was no one there to notice that you blatantly ignored the sign, and just kept going. The path at your feet changed from stone to a well-worn dirt path through the grass, and it wasn’t long before you could hear the sound of music erupting in the distance.

You passed by staff quarters, a few weathered red cabins with white trim, lined close together, and there were some people hanging out on their porches who gave you curious looks, but didn’t seem too concerned with your presence.

Following the source of the music, you descended down into unknown, poorly lit territory that no longer looked like it was part of the Hawkins Landing property.

(song playing in the distance is Dangerous Meeting by Mercyful Fate)

It was then that you noticed a pale yellow light coming from the windows of a building up ahead. Just as the dirt path turned to gravel, you identified the music you were hearing as heavy metal, and it was bolstered by distinct shouts and cheers, even a high-pitched scream or two.

“Hey,” a voice startled you from out of the dark and you jumped. “What are you going out here?”

Heart racing, you spun around to find out it was Robin.

She was struggling to carry several things in her arms as she walked and you rushed over to her.

“Where did you come from?” You asked, grinning ear to ear at how glad you were to see someone familiar.

“My cabin is right over there,” she bucked her chin in a direction behind you.

She had a crossbody bag over her shoulder, an amp in one hand, and she was juggling two guitar cases, one of which she fumbled, and you managed to catch it before it hit the ground. You wrapped your arms around the hard case with the Scorpions sticker on it, silently offering to carry it the rest of the way.

“You don’t have to—” Robin started, adjusting the bag over her shoulder.

“I want to,” you looked back up at the house where the music was coming from, assuming that was where she was headed. “I carry that big cello around all the time, remember? I’m used to it.”

Robin moved her jaw from side to side and she looked conflicted. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

Your eyes were still locked on the house hidden in the trees. “What is that place?”

“Listen,” she gave you an imploring look. “I will get in so much trouble if they find out you came out here. Your dad won’t want you here, trust me.”

Her warning did nothing to squelch your curiosity. “I’m a big girl, I go wherever I want. Plus, I won’t tell anyone.”

“Besides,” she gave you a knowing look, raising her eyebrow. “If your boyfriend Troy finds out you were here, Brenner will fire all of us.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you snapped. But then, softer, you added, “I barely just met him tonight.”

Robin wasn’t in the mood to try and rip the guitar out of your hands, and so, with a heavy sigh, she caved.

“Fine,” she sighed. “But stay close to me, okay? You’re not at the resort anymore, sweetheart.”

You nodded, waiting for her to lead the way.

She took a step forward and then stopped and turned on her heel to point at the instrument in your arms.

“Be extra careful with that, it’s Eddie’s baby. He’ll grow horns if anything happens to it.”

----

Hi! If you are familiar with the movie Dirty Dancing, you have an idea about what scene is coming up next. I've really enjoyed lining up certain events with the movie, but things will obviously be different in this because I want it to have some surprises in store for you.

Every chapter from here on out will start with a list of the songs, ones that will give hints for what to expect. I wanted to make music a big part of this fic, because it was a huge deal in the movie, and the original soundtrack is still dear to me.

as always, thank you so much for reading and interacting with this story! Comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated. or send me an ask and let me know what you think ❤️

------

taglist: @tlclick73 @micheledawn1975 @kurdtbean @katethetank @elvendria @spookysqaush86 @somethingvicked @stylesxmunson @laurenlokirby @sapphire4082

#Dirty Metal Summer #dirty dancing au #Eddie Munson series #Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson fic #Eddie Munson smut #Stranger Things fic #Steve Harrington #robin buckley

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readychilledwine · 5 months

Text

Lost Bonds pt 4

Summary - The last thing Tamlin planned to have happen was a bond snapping between him and Y/N Archeron. Now the big question becomes, is it too late to fix what has been broken?

Warnings - stereotypical happy ever after, grudges, cutting ties with family, rhysand being a decent brother in law, divorce, children, babies, pregnancy, reader's powers are yin to Nesta's yang, loosely edited (squint away any mistakes💕)

A/n - I know some people might be upset with the direction this ended in, but it felt... right? Forgive me.

✨️Tamlin Masterlist✨️

Lost Bonds: Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3

The Fire in Spring *can be read as a bonus Calanmai smut scene*

Rhysand was eerily calm as Azriel approached his office with Feyre. For the first time since her arrival here, Feyre would be in a seat he typically only forced the Inner Circle to instead of at his side.

Rhys sat and waited, hands laced together as they entered. “You are probably wondering why I asked you two to come in. Sit.” He motioned to the chairs across from him, not missing the look of confusion on Feyre's face. He waited for them to settle before saying the one thing he knew would begin the fight he prepared himself for, “I sent y/n to Spring yesterday. For Calanmai.”

Azriel's hands instantly twitched, and the fight began.

Three weeks had past with you and Tamlin and Tamlin and you. They were spent deep in the throes of passion. In need and want and want and need and every lingering emotion in between.

He had worshiped you. Truly and fully. He explored every inch of skin, tasting and kissing it every time like it was his last meal, like these were his last moments and he would rather spend them nowhere else than between the thighs he had become obsessed with.

It had taken 3 weeks for the bond to cool down enough for him to attempt to go back to his duties. He still ached for you and the completion that came with being yours, and you ached as well. You were like air to each other. Something so simple, yet so vital to life.

He sighed as he entered his office and sat in front of Feyre, Rhys, and Azriel. “You selfish-”

His hand went up. “If you're going to start throwing names around, shadowsinger, I have several for you. Be silent and allow me to discuss this with your lord and lady.”

Rhys was the first to speak after the blatant dismissal. “Where is she?”

“She should be resting. She's had a long morning already. She spent the morning with other Ladies of the Court discussing the upcoming Summer celebrations. I believe she is still socializing, though. I do not keep track of her constantly. She is a grown adult.”

Feyre scoffed and Tamlin raised his brow at her before she instantly looked down. “Is she happy?”

“Happier than I've been in a long time,” you entered the room, long hair falling in waves, an apricot colored dress swaying as you did. The colors of Spring made you even more radiant, your skin glowing, eyes dancing with light that had been missing for several years. “I assume you brought papers for me.”

You moved to Tamlin, standing behind him and holding a hand out for his. Feyre was shaking, refusing to look at you. “If you sign this, if you choose to stay, I never want to see you again.” The words should have cut like a knife, but all you could do was sigh.

“Would you like me to stay in Night then?”

Azriel glared towards Tamlin. “Its where you belong. Where your husband is. Where your family is.”

“Where your mate is,” you began to trail on for him. “Where you can have your cake and eat it too. Where your family has spent the past 4 years letting you make a fool out of me. Fond memories, yes.”

“Our marriage wasn't always unhappy, y/n.”

“No. But it became unhappy the second you had an affair. Sign the papers, Azriel.”

Rhysand stayed oddly silent, as did Tamlin, the two high lords were in a silent conversation regarding the scent only they seemed to be able to detect. You were not leaving Spring, not when you, albeit unknowingly, were carrying its salvation inside of you.

Tamlin pointed to the line that would grant you your freedom. Tapping it twice in a silent message to you to sign and stay at his side as he watched Azriel. He had no doubt the male planned on grabbing you, upset that he was losing his own claim to a made sister, upset that the Cauldron had paired him with another.

Tamlin knew his look. The look of a male who wanted everything with no compromise. He remembered being there. Being that male. He knew the pain that came with it, the anger. He watched you sign, signature so flawless and soft, curling the page that gave you freedom and you stepped back. Hiding that joy that was flooding him as you did.

“I won't stop fighting for you.”

You shook your head as you laid the ring on the desk and slid it to him. “You will. You will realize this was best for both of us in time. You will find happiness, peace, and what you are looking for.”

“I won't sign.”

Rhysand pinched his nose and then picked at his jacket, a nervous habit now instead of obsession. “Azriel, sign the papers.”

“I won't-”

“You will because I have tolerated every moment of this bull shit knowing it is against every law we have honored for thousands of years.” Tamlin was oddly calm, hand still in yours. “I tolerated it for her happiness.”

“She was happy with me.”

“Until 4 years ago, yes.”

You turned to Rhysand, eyes pleading. “Please.” Her brother in law nodded, taking her side and owning his error another time.

“Sign the papers, Azriel.” Feyre and Azriel seemed to freeze. It was a set command, one the shadowsinger would not be able to push. “Sign the papers.”

“I will never forgive you for this.”

Rhys shrugged. “I'll add it to the many times I was doing what was best for everyone else but made the bad guy. Sign the papers.”

Azriel stared at Tamlin as he signed the papers before taking the ring and standing. He left without saying goodbye, without looking back at you one last time. Without even so much as a sign of the love you two once shared.

“You will never see Nyx again.” Tamlin tugged the bond, sending you his love and support regardless of what you picked but silently begging you to stay.

Your throat tightened as you looked to Feyre, “Are you truly that selfish? Without Tamlin, you would not even have Nyx. You wouldn't have a mate.” She glared at you, chin head high as you continued, “you were never met to be Tamlin's, Feyre. Imagine a world where you would have just let me go, where I came here as the person who was supposed to.” She suddenly looked away, eyes squeezing shut as she did. “If that is the road you would like us to go down, consider it done. You are no longer my sister, no longer my other half, no longer part of me. If my happiness means this little to you, then we need to part ways.”

Feyre just nodded, standing and holding her hand out to Rhysand. Your brother in law shook his head, nodding for her to go. He sunk further into the chair he was in before looking to you and Tamlin. “Congratulations,” in was sincere, soft. Rhys grabbed your hand, kissing the palm. “You will always have a home in Velaris.”

10 years later

Tamlin sighed quietly next to you, bouncing your third child and daughter, Willow, on his lap as the other two sat. Oakland, your oldest son, was reading with his back leaned against your legs. Fleur, your middle daughter, was sitting by the glittering fish pond every court was circling.

High Lord's meetings were now quarterly. A way of holding each other all in check and accountable. Each one was more of a bitchfest than productive, but it had allowed relations between several courts to improve.

This one had been called due to Helion stepping down. With Beron gone, Autumn stable, and his mate and son finally at his side, the High Lord decided there was no better way to celebrate than relinquishing his powers to Lucien and enjoying the lost time he should have had with Andromeda.

Lucien looked to Tamlin, a little lost on the question Rhysand was asking before clearing his throat to answer, “I will not be enforcing rank and class if that's what you are asking. Fae are fae. Lower or higher does not matter to me. Laws will be enforced, tax will be enforced, and opportunities will be fair.” Rhys seemed content in that answer, looking at Feyre and Nyx before nodding.

You two knew you were next and Tamlin sighed as he handed Willow to you, much to her protest. “Spring is fully rebuilt and has implemented a version of Tarquin’s laws that work best for us,” the mentioned high lord smiled and raised his bubbling wine. “Our army is young, growing, but eager.”

He looked to you, “We would appreciate the spies being removed from our court, though. We are willing to answer any questions someone may have. We feel the use of spies in unnecessary. We have opened our boarders and home to anyone."

“The mortals,” Eris began slowly. “They are?”

“Part of our court as of two months ago,” you answered for Tamlin. “We are the only court they agreed to form a pact with. Jurian and Vassa will remain ruling over them as a better connection point.”

Eris hummed. Satisfied with the answer.

“Will they be asking to travel?” Kal watched his daughter, stopping her before her snow pale hand touched the pond with a soft no. “There are concerns over them coming to Winter. They were not made for such temperatures.”

Tamlin nodded, “We had hoped to discuss that with each court one on one. They are… beautiful, curious creatures. They want to travel the courts and experience different foods and lifestyles. Provisions will need to be made for that to happen, though.”

You couldn't help but smile, hearing what you used to be called beautiful by the most stunning male you had ever seen. His hand moved to rest on your thigh, squeezing softly as the next question came.

“The growth in Spring, the herbs, the medicinal plants, the food, flowers,” Thesan took a short pause as he and his mate communicated silently. “How did that happen?”

Tamlin squeezed your thigh again. “Nesta was blessed with the powers of death. Y/n was blessed with the powers of fertility and live. Her presence alone has brought light and growth back to Spring.”

“And children,” Kal murmured. You chuckled softly. You knew your every growing family was a source if jealousy from several other High Lords and Ladies.

“Yes, and children. The increase of faelings in Spring has been our biggest blessing. We are averaging 20-25 babes a year instead of the standard 3.”

You watched Rhys smile behind his hand as Feyre still refused to look your way. “And how many more do you two plan on having?” The question came from Cassian. He had taken to his nieces and nephew like they were second nature to him. He was their favorite uncle, and Nesta was fighting Elain hard for favorite Auntie.

Tamlin looked at you. “Perhaps we will be done after this new one arrives.” You shook your head quickly, lip pouting out. “I promised her 12.” Eris and Lucien both spit out their wine. Having grown up with many siblings, the two of them both looked shocked as Helion and Lady Autumn both smiled wide. “We will decide here in a month or two.”

Your hand absentmindedly moved to your very swollen stomach. This one was a boy. You felt it in your soul, and new Tamlin was secretly excited over the idea of another beautiful son.

The meeting came to a close as soon as Summer finished their updates. Tamlin helped you stand, moving his hand to your lower back as he walked you and your three toddlers out of the room. You could feel both of their eyes on you. A lingering cold Hazel gaze, a heartbroken blue one.

He tugged the bond softly before winnowing you home and immediately taking you to bed as the children's nannies all came to collect them for nap time.

“She looked regretful,” Tamlin unlocked your dress, kissing your shoulder softly. “She will approach soon.”

“It doesn't matter if she does.” The acceptance came so easily now. “We have each other, our family. We have this,” you tugged the bond. “Nothing will come between our happy ever after.” You held your pinky to his, and he wrapped his much larger one around it. “To us and our happy ever after then.”

“To us, petal.”

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria

Lost Bonds Taglist:

@impossibelle @fxckmiup @applerubyy @awkardnerd @sleepylunarwolf @macimads @esposadomd @stormhearty @starcrossedsan @justasillylittlegoofyguy @thisblogisaboutabook @ohemgeewhat @mybestfriendmademe @isa1b2h3 @b0xerdancer @forever-paramore28 @circe143 @ancientbeing10 @disgruntledturtleduck @fandomarchiveilyd

#acotar #acotar x reader #tamlin x reader #tamlin x archeron!reader #tamlin x yn #tamlin x y/n #tamlin x you #tamlin acotar

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yuriisclumsy · 4 months

Note

I'm so excited that more people started taking cale request!!!✧\(>o<)ﾉ✧

Anyway hiii! Can I have an enemy to lovers with cale henituse and fem.reader idk something cliche like a dance scene or one gets protective of the other or maybe a cute "oh shit I'm actually in love moment"

Sorry I'm bursting with ideas rn.~

Love's Dance

Part 1 (You are here) | Part 2 | Part 3

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 2,729

Authors note: You ask, and I shall deliver. PS. why did you give me such a good idea? like, I'm at 5k word for the overall thing, and I am not even done yet... (send help)

The streets of Roan Kingdom's Capital were bustling like usual. The vendors selling their goods, children running around carelessly, mothers screaming at them to not get dirty, and the usual underground activity Arm did.

I strolled through these streets, thinking of nothing and relaxing ‘til I get another mission.

“That reminds me…Arm has been quiet as of late. Sigh…they are up to no good…” I spoke to no one in particular, walking back to the Quiet Isle lodge.

Quiet Isle is an inn in an area a little off the center of the Capital. I stayed there for the past three weeks after finishing my last mission. The price to stay is cheap, while still being comfortable. It has comfortable rooms, a clear view, free breakfast, and most importantly, it wasn’t noisy at all! Bonus points for the innkeepers, as they have been nothing but sweethearts.

All-in-all, a good Inn if you’re looking to get your coins worth.

I went through the inn’s doors, a sweet aroma of lavender hitting my nostrils as I neared the front desk.

The Innkeepers were an old couple, and the misses genuinely enjoyed the smell of lavender. That is why, as you walk through the inn, you’ll be met with an influx of light purples from the flowers.

Reaching the desk, I was greeted by a senior woman whose smile could cure all kinds of child injuries.

“Oh! Why if it is the youth I’m all too familiar with!” The old granny said, delighted to see me.

“Greetings, Granny Fes,” I vowed curtly with a small smile. “Have there been any new guests at the inn?” I asked as she extended her hand to give me a piece of candy.

Receiving the small candy, I offered a small ‘thank you.’ She said a quick ‘You’re welcome!’ before responding to my question. “Yes, yes! I welcomed a few new guests shortly after you left this morning for a stroll!” she excitedly told me.

“Two of the five I welcomed are a couple expecting a child! Isn't that exciting? Ouu, to be young again…”

“Oh, please. I say you are still quite young!” I say to get her head out of that cloud.

“Fufufu, you are too kind [Name].” Granny Fes pinched my cheek as she got a bit flustered. “I believe one day you’ll meet a handsome young man that is suited just for you.” She added.

I blushed a little, “Oh no, I don’t think that will happen…” I pause for a second. “Do you really think I’ll get lucky enough to have that...?” I asked, not believing I would get someone special to spend my days with.

“Don’t give me that!” Granny Fes yelled, as if scolding one of her own. “You are beautiful! Which man wouldn't dream of having a wife such as yourself!?”

All I could do was smile in response. This is how I want things to always go. Living in a peaceful area, sharing memories with people I meet along the way, even starting a family. Arm is nowhere near that picture. And it will never be.

But alas. Good things always end.

“Ah! That reminds me. [Name],” she called my name and handed me an envelope, “You received mail from a young lad. He said it was urgent.”

Looking at the envelope as Granny Fes left to continue her job, I had an ominous feeling, yet I couldn’t pinpoint what it was.

I turned it around only to see Arm’s seal stamped on it. Arm only sends letters if it is an important mission, and based on the color of the seal, it is of utmost importance.

I am already not liking this I thought, refusing to open the letter. Maybe if I were to pretend its existence was nothing but a useless paper, it would disappear. But alas, I needed to open the envelope. With worry present in my face I opened it with the seal. Inside was a letter addressing Agent White Gold.

That code name. It is the thing I despised most in this world.

To Agent White Gold,

Play time is up, White Gold. You have been assigned a mission in the Henituse Territory. We have discovered the traces of the leader of the organization known as ‘True Arm.’ Your mission is to go there and find out who the leader of the organization is, dead or alive. It is your choice which one you pick.

A carriage will come to pick you up at sunrise, so don’t miss it.

Once you arrive at your destination one of our men will greet you and guide you to your resting location and hand you an envelope. Inside, you will find descriptions of the one we are looking for, alongside a list of individuals that we found to match the description of our target.

Remember, Agent, we are counting on your success.

Don’t disappoint us,

Arm

Dammit… The moment I receive some peace after working for them like a slave…! I angrily store the letter to shreds, as if it were them instead of the letter. All I wanted was to disappear from the eyes of those bastards. They took me from my home, changed me to fit in an identity they made…they just can’t leave me alone, can they?

I wanted to say no. To be able to run away to a far corner of the world so they would never be able to find me. But it is impossible. No one leaves. Rather, they die. Dying was the only way out.

Yet, I want to live.

I looked at Granny Fes as she talked with a few guests that were checking out. At that moment I knew that if I tried to escape, they would get everyone I was surrounded by. She doesn't deserve that. Neither does her husband, or her children and grandchildren.

It is best I comply.

“Sigh…Once you're in, there is no escaping their grasp…”

The sky was tainted in hues of blues, purples, and oranges. The sun was rising from the nap it took, and fully ready to greet us.

A carriage arrived early at the Quiet Isle Inn. Inside stood Granny Fes and Gramps Liy right next to me. Their eyes expressed sadness when looking at me.

“Why so sad?” I asked the couple.

“Oh, it’s just…it’s just that we’re both sad you’re leaving so soon.” Granny Fes confessed. Her husband, a bit more stubborn, only scuffed. Granny Fes elbowed him hard with a smile still shooting at me, gaining a small scowl from Gramps Liy.

“AGHEM,” he raised one hand to fake a cough, “I guess you will be missed.”

I laugh at his antics. Deep down he cares, he just has an unconventional way of expressing his feelings.

“I’ll miss the two of you.” I looked at them with a small hinge of sadness but kept a smile to reassure them. I looked outside to see the coachman wave his hand signaling that he was ready for departure. “It seems I must go,” I turned to them, “see you later?”

“Yes, yes. Goodbye little lady.” Gramps Liy ‘shud’ me to the carriage as he and his wife stared at me opening the door of the carriage.

“Farewell, sweetheart. Make sure to take good care of yourself. And remember to look out for good lads while you’re traveling!” Granny Fes nagged me like I was about to never come back. Although, she was right about that. I don’t think I will be able to come back if I want to protect them.

I laughed and said a small ‘I will!’ as I climbed into the carriage. Closing the door the carriage started moving. I waved to the couple one last time before I could not see them anymore.

Sighting, I took out the map I packed. Looking at my destination, it was a few days from the capital. “This is going to be a loong trip…” I commented, making myself comfortable for the journey ahead.

I hope I get this mission done quickly, so I can get another vacation from Arm. I looked up at the ceiling. I mean…how hard could it be to find this ‘leader’ anyways?

…

An old butler walks dutifully around the state halls. In hand, he holds a tray with a fancy tea set with a steel dome keeping the food inside warm; its aroma could be smelled by the passing housekeepers with wet laundry.

The butler knocked at a door, he did not have to wait long, as he got an immediate response from the person inside. Opening the door he says his greetings.

“Good morning, young master. I brought breakfast along with your favorite drink.” He says as he places down the tray on the table close to the window.

“Ah, thank you, Ron.” A male voice thanked the butler.

“It is my pleasure, young master Cale.” The butler, Ron, bowed.

The man, who is now identified as Cale, sat down on the table to enjoy his breakfast.

“Young master, if I may…” Ron waited for permission to continue speaking.

“*Sight* Just spit it out.” Cale said in an uninterested voice. This is another one of his tangents. Drinking the lemonade that Ron made as he thinks of Ron’s earlier endeavors.

Ron smiled, “I have detected Arm activity within the city.”

“PFF–” spilling all the lemonade on the cup, he looked at Ron with widened eyes.

What is Arm doing here?! They have more pressing issues to deal with! Like, figuring out who Real Arm is! Cale’s thought went haywire.

Ron took his handkerchief out and gave it to Cale to use.

“What do you mean there is Arm activity in the city? Is it more bombs?” He asked while using the cloth given to him to clean the mess he made.

He shook his head, “no, at least not yet. I have seen them snoop around the city for information. It would seem we left them a small lead.”

“Not good…”

“If you’d prefer, young master, I could go rabbit hunting.”

Looking at Ron with a drop of sweat evident in his forehead, he reluctantly answered. “...do whatever you want.”

“Hehe. Then I will take my leave.” He bowed before leaving the room without making a sound.

Scary old man. He looked outside pouring more lemonade in his cup. It’s not a good sign if Arm is here. I need to prepare in case they strike.

…

“Hey, wake up! We’re almost there!”

“WHAT? HUH–huh?” I got up from my seat at lightning speed, looking around in a daze. As I scoot closer to the window, I see the giant walls looming overhead. On top of one of the towers built in the wall was a flag. It was the Henituse’s family crest imprinted on it.

I’m already in the Henituse territory!

Getting closer at the entrance door of the city, the carriage stopped, as they had to do a check before letting anyone in.

“Execute me, m’lady. May I have your identification paper?” A soldier asked me.

Security check? When I traveled to other places, they didn’t ask for my identification but the coachman’s.

I handed him the paper without complaint, receiving it right after he checked that everything was good. The other soldiers gave him a thumbs up after checking the carriage and the coachman. Without further interruption they let us through, wishing us a happy stay.

“That was…something.”

The coach man dropped me off at a tavern near the city square. Going upstairs to the second floor of the establishment, I sat down at a table near the edge of the balcony. Waiting for the man that was supposed to give me the information mentioned in the letter I looked out into the streets, I could see the liveliness of the people.

They were too lively in my opinion.

Hearing footsteps approaching my table I diverted my attention to them. I was greeted with a man wearing a hat with fancy clothing.

“Hello, m’lady,” the man greeted by taking his hat off and vowing curtly.

Didn’t know Arm also had rich allies. I thought, seeing the man's mannerisms.

“Good evening,” I vowed slightly, “are you the one mentioned in the letter?”

“Eager now, are we?” He sat down in front of me with a smug smile. He placed his hat down before taking out an envelope. He slid it across the table. As I grabbed it, I took out its content.

It was a list of suspects. They all had red hair and were male. And that was it. No underground activities, no records, nothing.

“That’s…it?”

This is the only information they managed to find…seriously? I thought. Was someone able to sneak past Arm’s noses? How is that even possible?

“Unfortunately, it is.”

“Ha...!” I laughed at the absurdity of the situation. I looked up at the man after reviewing the list of suspects.

“This is the only description we managed to find,” the smile on his face dropped into a frown, “only at the low cost of our scouts: a single spy was able to escape long enough to hide a piece of paper in a tree trunk…” he said.

“....” I looked down at the list.

To be able to kill all of our scouts…this is no meek foe. Just thinking of how strong they are sends shivers down my spine…

“I have arranged a small room at an Inn close by here. I have left some equipment at your disposal. The location is on one of the papers in the envelope.” The man stood up and put his hat on, adjusting his suit a little before looking at me.

“If you need anything else, I left a card at your place with instructions as to how you can contact me. Remember I’m at your service m’lady, Tata! ~”

“I will keep that in mind.”

Watching as he disappeared behind the doors of the second floor, I decided to order something to eat before heading to my fixed place.

…

“…a festival?” Cale looked at the flier given to him.

“That’s right,” Count Deruth, Cale’s father, said nonchalantly, “the festival will brighten the people's moods, as well as show that we are financially good.”

Politics….

“Wait, here it says the ‘Henituse’s’ are attending…I don’t have to attend…right?”

Deruth raised an eyebrow in question. “You don’t have to go.”

“...”

I must go. *Sight* My well-deserved rest has been postponed once again… can’t I catch a break for once?

“On that note, I have reserved a spot on the city square where we will be presiding during the time,” he said as Cale gave him back the paper.

“You don’t have to talk–or better said–you don’t have to even move. Just sitting there is enough.”

Cale smiled at this I don’t have to move? Seems perfect to me!

“I’ll be attending in that case.”

“The festival will start in a few days. Be ready.”

Cale exited his father’s study, walking back to his room.

I need to tell Ron about this. It’ll be no surprise if Arm takes advantage of the festival. There stands a man with black hair waiting outside Cale’s room for him to come.

“!”

“Young master Cale!” The man runs towards him with puppy-like energy.

“Choi Han, is there something you need?” Cale asked.

“I heard from Ron that there have been suspicious activities happening in the city. So, I came to ask for permission to investigate.” Hans explained.

Cale hummed. Strange. Usually, you would do these types of things without letting me know. Perhaps he thinks this is a bit dangerous and if he doesn't return, we know where to look?

“You can do as you please, no need to ask for my permission.”

“I see…thank you young master,” Han vowed, “I will report back immediately once I find anything!” As he said that, he began to leave.

“Oh, and, Choi Han?” Cale spoke before he could fully leave.

“Yes, Cale?”

“If you find anything, make sure to report first. Don’t go around making havoc, got it?” Cale instructed.

“...yes” he responded with a bit of thinking, knowing it was the best decision.

Let’s see what they have in store for us. Cale entered his room, he’ll laze around until the festival actually begins. What a bother…

…

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#cale henituse x reader #cale henituse #trash of the count's family x reader #trash of the count's family #lout of the count’s family #lout of the count's family x reader #reader input #x reader #manhwa x reader #totcf #manhwa #manhwa fanfic #choi han #ron #deruth henituse

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koiiiji · 4 months

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author’s note ; i know i promised a little bit different works… but… yeah.. and i hate editing in tumblr, i swear it was last tim editing in app bc draft suddenly wasn’t saved and whole part with sex scene was deleted. i tried to get it back, thankfully i use translator sometimes, but yeah… most spicy part is fucked up, but i have last working day tomorrow, tired as hell and stressed bc of how fcked up tumblr app works sometimes. maybe will edit it later. hope you still will enjoy. 🪄🪆

tw ; nsfw, f!reader, slight description of body shape, masturbation, p in v, established relationship, passionate

summary ; you gave taesoo little show after his long days and nights in forests on his mountain. + soft bonus in the end. 🥨🎗️💒🌌🧼🎐

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

the moon hung low in the night sky, casting its ethereal glow upon the world below as Taesoo returned from hunting expedition. fatigue after another successful hunt gave pleasant thoughts about imminent rest and relaxation, and pain in the muscles reverberated throughout the body, forcing him to speed up his pace. with each weary step, he longed for the familiar comfort of home, the promise of solace and sanctuary beckoning to him.

but as he approached his secluded abode on his mountain, a sense of unease gnawed at the edges of his consciousness. there was a stillness in the air, there was no light in the windows, darkness that hung heavy like a shroud, as if the very earth itself held its breath in anticipation. pushing open the door, Taesoo's heart quickened with trepidation as he called out your name, the echo of his voice ringing hollow in the empty hallway. but there was no answer, no laughter to greet him, no warmth to chase away the chill that settled in the depths of his soul. furrowing his brow, Taesoo ventured further into the dimly lit interior of his home, the flickering flames of the hearth casting long shadows across the walls. and then, in the dim light of fireplace, he saw you.

spread out upon his huge bed like a vision from a dream, you lay ensconced in furs, your slender form illuminated by the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the window and warm fireplace flickering. your fingers danced across your skin with a delicate grace, teasing and tantalizing in equal measure, as you lost yourself in the throes of ecstasy. for a moment, Taesoo stood frozen in place, his breath catching in his throat as he drank in the sight before him.

there was raw, primitive beauty, you bathed in the caress of moonlight and the warmth of the fireplace, cold and warm light played on your naked figure, he could see how almost every muscle tenses and relaxes, how the skin on the chest stretches, so that the ribs are slightly stick out, as the warm light cast shadows on your tummy, and the moonlight illuminated your collarbones, neck and shoulders. he saw how beautifully your chest heaved, trembling more and more with every movement of your fingers. Taesoo watched as your other hand reached to your chest, squeezing one and biting your lip,smiling, closing your eyes in pleasure and arching your back. he was mesmerized.

Taesoo felt a surge of desire coursing through his veins, a hunger so primal it threatened to consume him whole. like a hunter who had stumbled upon the most delectable prey, he couldn't tear his eyes away from you. with a hunger that bordered on desperation, Taesoo approached the bed, his movements slow and deliberate, but before he could reach out to touch you, you pushed your small feet onto his shoulder, a silent command that halted him in his tracks.

confusion flickered in his eyes as you gently pushed him to the nearest chair, your voice a soft murmur that sent shivers down his spine. “Watch,”you whispered, your words a seductive promise that left him breathless with anticipation. and so, Taesoo watched, sitting there, with his legs wide open,letting his own palm rest on the growing bulge in his pants. mesmerized, as you pleasured yourself before him, your movements fluid and graceful, each motion a symphony of desire and longing. he watched as you squirmed and writhed upon the bed, your body pure grace, sophistication and femininity, so contrary to his almost bestial habits.

with each circle of your finger, his own desire grew, a fire raging within him that threatened to consume him whole. he longed to join you, to lose himself in the intoxicating rhythm of your passion, but he remained rooted to his seat, waiting for your permission, until you will cry out for his help. and damn, how well he knew you, that a minute later you were stuttering and whining begging him – “Taesoo.. Taesoo baby… n-need you..” you plea hiccuping – “Need you right now..”

and what kind of man would he be if he made his woman repeat twice or even wait? without a word, he moved closer, his presence overwhelming in its intensity. as he reached you, he lowered himself onto the bed, his hands tracing a path from your ankles up to your thighs, sending waves of electricity through your body. the world outside ceased to exist; there was only Taesoo and the way his touch ignited a fire within you even more. his lips found your skin, pressing tender kisses along your calves, trailing up to your knees. as he continued his journey, his mouth caressed the inside of your thighs, the sensation both tantalizing and soothing. Taesoo's hands never stopped their exploration, his fingers dancing lightly over your hips as his lips moved upwards, kissing your stomach with reverence. he took his time, savoring every inch of you, worshipping your body with each touch and kiss. you felt cherished, adored in a way that transcended words.

when his lips reached the curve of your breast, he paused, his breath warm against your skin. he looked up at you, his eyes dark with emotions – “You ready?” he murmured against your skin, his voice a low rumble that resonated deep within your chest. the moment you nod shyly, he let go of low grunt and pulled down his pants, letting pink, sensitive head of his dick out, and slowly rubbing it against your begging pussy.

the lump of nerves in your stomach first tightens even more, then it seems to untie when Taesoo slowly enters you, stretching and filling you completely. with a strangled groan, he puts his hand on the bottom of your tummy and presses, just a little, to feel his length inside, and how painfully slowly he moves, forcing you to tilt your head back. – “Yes, baby, just like that..” your hair is scattered on the pillows, the sheets and furs are crumpled under you, and you arch your back more strongly, pressing your chest against Taesoo's chest. he slides his hand under your waist, pulling you closer and gently impaling you on his cock. – “Taking me so well, yes, little thing?”

he couldn't take his eyes off your face - illuminated by the soft light of the moon, eyebrows are raised worryingly, gaze is clouded, and the sweetest moans flow from your mouth.

releasing your waist and stroking you higher and higher, on your sides, ribs, finally hugging your back with one hand and walking along your spine, and with the other extending his arm above your head, interlacing his fingers together, taesu leaned on you with almost full weight, pressing into the mattress and slowly, steadily crashing into your hips

he buried his nose in the crook of your neck and shoulder, lightly nibbling and sucking on the delicate skin, thus claiming his right to you.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

the soft glow of the fireplace bathed the room in a warm, flickering light. Taesoo and you lay on a fur carpet, blankets and furs scattered around you, wrapped in the cozy warmth of the moment. the crackle of the fire was a soothing backdrop to the gentle whispers shared between you.

Taesoo's hand traced lazy, affectionate patterns down your spine, his touch sending shivers of delight through your body. you lay with your head resting on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, feeling the rise and fall of his breath. he murmured sweet nothings into your hair, his voice a comforting rumble that made you smile. – “You are my everything,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your forehead. you sighed contentedly, nuzzling closer to him, your fingers lightly trailing over his chest. – “And you are mine,” you replied softly, your voice filled with the warmth of your love.

the fire crackled and popped, casting dancing shadows across the room as you both lay there, wrapped in each other's embrace.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

#[ ~ koi.talks🗣]#lookism x reader #lookism #lookism webtoon #lookism manhwa #webtoon lookism #lookism ma taesoo #ma taesoo #ma taesoo x reader #lookism x you #lookism headcanons #lookism imagines

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somedayillbepeterpan · 3 months

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I have thought about Colin Bridgerton every single day since June 13. I love him so much, he plagues my mind. If you have been here for a while, you know that I've been lauding how Luke Newton has played Colin brilliantly and I will continue to pile on that praise because I cannot resist this pookie bear.

So, here's my favourite S3 smiles of my favourite sweet, soft boi. He progressively shows his toothy smile less and less from the latter part of S1 and S2 and beginning of S3 so I adore it when I see this smile. I just love love love when I see Luke Newton's toothy smile. He doesn't do it often when you carefully look at all the press tour photos and interviews.

I'm working on S1 and S2 smiles, too. Stay tuned!

S3E6 - Romancing Mr. Bridgerton He just made one of his dad jokes to Pen and made her smile. Nothing spells in love like this sweet, shy smile

S3E6 - Romancing Mr. Bridgerton Possibly the biggest smile I've seen on him when Pen tells him that she's always loved him. Gaaah, I can drown in this smile forever. It's this smile that makes the angst in the latter part so hard to watch. This pookie bear, in pain??? It was definitely hard to go through seeing the pain and confusion in his face.

S3E6 - Romancing Mr. Bridgerton His smile every time he twirls his two apples wife (I'm sorry for cutting Pen's face). That is the look of a fulfilled man.

S3E7 - Joining of hands I saw an interview (not sure which one) where Luke elaborates on the emotions he played Colin in throughout the wedding. He said that he just let him be swept up in the joy of the moment and that is why we get this beautiful wedding smile. Look at those eyes! We knew the conflict they were in but this is one of the hard evidences that he would never, ever give up Pen.

S3E8 - Into the light (sorry for the grainy gif. this was zoomed in at max capacity) Every single dance they've had (even the wedding one), Colin would display his truest emotions. It's why they have 5 dances throughout the season as compared to Saphne and Kanthony's 2 each (if I'm remembering correctly). This last dance, where he finally settles in his emotions saw him the happiest as evidence on the next gif.

S3E8 - Into the light Look at this pookie's face! It's the first smile where he closes his eyes fully-- embracing the joy he's feeling. This and the next gif's smiles are my absolute favourites. I can stare at this smiling face all day.

BONUS

S3E5 - Tik Tok To the sweetest sex scene I've seen in my life, I will never get over you. Because you give me this man's absolutely smitten face. And those fiery eyes??? Are you kidding me? I can make essays about the mirror scene. That intimacy is not easily replicated and I'll always compare this scene to every other intimacy scene I see on screen from now on.

(Stunning work from Luke and Nic)

I cap this post off with this RMB quote:

“I love you for every one of my smiles, and even more, for every one of your smiles.” - Colin Bridgerton to Penelope Bridgerton Excerpt From Romancing Mr. Bridgerton Julia Quinn | This material may be protected by copyright.

#i love him so much #colin's smiles #i smile for every one of his smile #my sweet soft boi #you plague my mind #colin bridgerton #polin #bridgerton #luke newton #i'll continually praise Luke Newton's work

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totallynotsilversora · 2 years

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Hey nerds guess who made another thread about Vash's shooting skills during the finale of Trigun Stampede?

This nerd right here!

(( AGAIN! ))

Because Studio Orange has been driving me insane with how great Vash is as a gunman not just cinematically but realistically! I am NOT getting over this for a while my friends.

Of course, if you hadn't watched the finale yet and want to avoid spoilers, just know this post is gonna be filled with them and if you'd like to see my first analysis on Vash the Pro Gunslinger you can check it out here on tumblr and here on twitter before reading through this one!

Speaking of the bird, this post is also on twitter below:

Oh but wait, don't have one? No worries! I've retyped everything below so you don't have to look at the bird app if you don't want to!

All posts mention guns and shooting because otherwise this analysis would not work at all.

NOW LET'S ROLL!

First off, again, I’m going based on what I remembered from shooting air rifles & other research I’ve gained over the years! Second, I’m not an OG Trigun fan, so do take this thread with a grain of salt!

With that, let’s dive into THEE fight scene:

So right off the bat we’re getting Vash’s “smooth criminal” shot! Notice how he’s lining up his body sideways with his pistol vs forward like in the past. That’s exactly how you’re supposed to shoot one handed: feet shoulder width apart and aligned w/ the gun.

Normally you’d want both feet planted on the ground when firing but since Vash HAS to stay on the move to avoid getting hit AND is being a cocky little shit to his brother, he lets himself lean forward to fire and use that kick back to gently guide him into his next step.

Again, you NEVER fight what’s considered natural movement with a gun! You WILL get hurt! If you want to aim properly you NEED to be relaxed and composed. Vash isn’t fighting against the force of his gun, he follows it with the confidence and poise of a dancer on stage.

And speaking of dancing just look at how Vash makes Knives dance over puddles! Vash has impeccable aim yet he deliberately chooses to shoot in areas that could stun or stumble Knives, knowing he could block the shots, and distract him as he goes behind the corner.

Remember how I said lining up sideways is how you shoot properly? Here he’s firing straight forward using the corner as his shield. Had he not been holding a ticking bomb in his hand he would probably rest the gun on his other hand like he normally does on the rock jutting out.

The second he fired his last shot he dips down to reload and LOOK AT THAT!!

He is practicing proper trigger discipline again!!

You do NOT keep your finger on the trigger when loading in order to prevent misfire. That is BASIC SHOOTING SAFETY!!

And he does this throughout the fight!

When he turns away from Knives to make his way to the corner he lets go of the trigger before he turns back around to fire at him!

He can only hold 8 bullets in that gun and he will make each one count!

He can NOT afford to misfire.

Why??

Because that bullet he loaded was going STRAIGHT FOR KNIVES! Vash is NOT messing around! At this angle it looks like he aimed and could’ve hit Knives' NECK which would be super hard to dodge close range. Knives would have to bend backwards like he did here to dodge.

Shout out to everyone at Orange for the incredible work put into Vash and his shooting! There’s so much care into this show I can’t wait to see more!

Bonus: while we’re here, let’s get into Vash’s stellar reloads starting with this one (my absolute favorite) :

Remember how I said Vash was being a cocky little shit to Knives earlier?

Yeah this is it at it’s peak.

Faced forward, standing still til the last second, and very slowly reloading so Knives hears all 8 clicks before flying out the window.

This is just being mean lol XD

It's because we KNOW he can reload fast! The gif below might be faster by half a second but it's still RIDICULOUS compared to the first one:

Hell, he’s put individual bullets in the chamber midair and slammed a container of them in the SAME FLIGHT! MIDAIR!!!

He did NOT have to mess with Knives like that! Dude's flexin' hard.

In any case, I can’t recommend this show enough! The amount of work and detail put into not just Vash’s skills as a marksman but the acting and storytelling - everything is superb!! What an amazing experience!

Thanks again Studio Orange and Nightow! See you again, soon!

#trigun stampede #vash the stampede #marksmanship #analysis #trigun analysis #shooting #guns #gun #text post #GODDAMN I AM GOING BALLISTIC #LORD #took me way to long to figure out how to make gifs and compress them wtf happened internet

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tellmealovestory · 11 months

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Trick-or-treat

Summary: Your little family goes trick-or-treating for the first time.

Warnings: A few lines of suggestive dialogue, but mostly fluff and also dad!Eddie

Spooktober Masterlist

“Ladies, let’s go!” Eddie says, fist pounding on the door of the bathroom in impatience. “All the good candy is gonna be gone soon!”

“Chill, Eddie, we’re almost done!” you shout back.

Your daughter dances impatiently in the bathroom and not one to be outdone she turns her tiny face towards the bathroom door to shout, “yeah, dada chill!”

His laughter rings out on the other side of the door following his retreating footsteps. Finishing the last touches on your daughter’s costume you tie the bandana around her forehead and tell her, “okay, baby, go show daddy your costume before he has another meltdown.” Booping her on the nose you open the door for her and watch as she waddles out to Eddie.

She acts so much like him it makes your heart sing every time you look at her or see them together. She was a surprise that caught both of you off guard and made you question if either of you were ready to be parents and though it’s hardly been smooth sailing raising a child in a too small apartment on too small checks your little family makes do.

There’s also the added bonus that having her has given Eddie a second chance at a happy childhood that he missed out on when he was growing up.

Swiping on a layer of lipstick you adjust your top and step out of the bathroom door watching Eddie and his daughter. He’s got her in his arms, peppering sloppy kisses to the top of her head and forehead, each one making her giggle and coo as she flails her arms about.

Such a daddy’s girl.

“See? Now wasn’t that worth the wait?” you tease, stepping towards him to press a kiss to his cheek before grabbing the neon green pumpkin pail she’ll be using for trick or treating.

“It’s always worth the wait for my little rockstar.”

You smile softly as he grabs the keys to his outdated van while still holding onto his daughter.

“Not just any rockstar,” you start, shutting the lights off behind you and locking the door, “She wanted to dress just like her daddy.”

The words and realization make Eddie pause on the steps outside the apartment door and he takes a longer look at his daughter's little rockstar costume. Dressed in a black tee shirt she’s drowning in and black leggings and boots she’s got a bandana tied around her forehead just like Eddie always wears on stage.

Eddie’s heart picks up speed as it all clicks into place. You’re right. She is dressed like him and it makes him smile so wide his face hurts.

“Who’s idea was that? Yours or hers?”

“Hers. I gave her a hundred different options and all she said was she wanted to dress like you. But not the mechanic you. Apparently that’s not as cool as her dad being a part time rockstar.”

Reaching the van it’s a well oiled machine as you both work to buckle her into her carseat before sliding into the drivers and passenger side respectively.

The town of Hawkins is decorated like the set from a movie scene. Orange and purple lights are strung up on porch railings. Carved pumpkins stuffed with candles flicker on porches. Kids dressed as everything from princesses and doctors to ninja mutant turtles run through the streets as doorbells and fists knocking on doors fill the night air.

While Eddie grabs your daughter from her seat you grab the red wagon with a squeaky wheel that he promised he’d fix before tonight as you begin to walk through the streets. You take turns taking her up to each house. Her manners impeccable, her smile huge, her giggles louder than the other kids as she proudly tells everyone who asks that she dressed like her daddy the rockstar.

Most of the parents don’t care. Hell, most of the kids don’t care either, but Eddie can’t stop hearing it enough.

As the night wears on and your daughter starts to get tired you place her in the wagon piled high with fluffy blankets and pillows as you swing her overstuffed pail of candy and popcorn balls back and forth.

“So,” Eddie starts, gaze sliding over to you to take in your appearance of a ripped Corroded Coffin tee shirt, black skirt, fishnet stockings and thigh high boots. “I know what she’s dressed as, but what are you supposed to be?”

You jut your hip out as he pauses in front of another house to let a group of teenagers pass. You peek at your daughter seeing her not paying attention to either of you as she begins to clamber out of the wagon by herself accomplishing it after a few tries. You both watch her hurry up to the house before finally answering his question.

“Isn’t it obvious?” you purr, hand resting on his chest. “I’m dressed as your number one groupie.”

If the smile on his face was large hearing his daughter was dressed as him the smile on his face hearing what you just said is pure filth.

His hands fall to your waist and he closes the tiny bit of distance between your bodies as his lips hover mere inches from yours. “Might be the best costume I’ve seen all night.”

“Mm. Maybe if you’re real good tonight I’ll give you a treat instead of a trick that I’m sure you’ll enjoy.”

“Better not be teasing me,” he growls seconds before his lips are on yours, but the kiss is short lived as your daughter comes stumbling towards you both, wrapping her tiny arms around Eddie’s legs she peers up at him like he hung the moon and the stars just for her.

“Dada,” she starts, “Let’s go!”

You laugh with Eddie as it’s so reminiscent of the way that he demanded you both to hurry up before leaving.

“Yes, ma’am. So demanding,” he teases, picking her up as he begins to jog down to the next street. “You know she gets that attitude from you.”

“Excuse me?” you laugh, pulling the wagon behind you as you trail after them. “That is all you, Eddie!”

His laughter joins yours and as you finish up the night trick-or-treating you’re filled with love and happiness.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson #my writing

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yazthebookish · 6 months

Text

I posted my take on the Lightsinger theory and Gwyn's "luring" powers theory on Reddit two days ago but thought I'll reshare it here (with some additional thoughts)

The only canon information we have on Lightsingers:

Nesta winced. Cassian went on as she scanned the bog, "There are lightsingers: lovely, ethereal beings who will lure you, appearing as friendly faces when you are lost. Only when you're in their arms will you see their true faces, and they aren't fair at all. The horror of it is the last thing you see before they drown you in the bog. But they kill for sport, not food."

Does this correlate with anything Gwyn did in ACOSF? The answer is no.

I am not saying it is impossible for her to be a Lightsinger though where things stand it's unlikely in my opinion, but I'd attribute any potential powers either singing or glowing to her River Nymph heritage. We have no idea of her powers and she's also half High Fae of course she'll have powers like every other High Fae.

I think a lot of the "canon evidence" are different interpretations of the text but sometimes try to present itself as concrete evidence or proof when it isn't. Some attribute her singing during the services as the cause to Nesta having vision of the Prison and the Harp, but that also means we will have to ask what connection is there between Lightsingers and the Prison/Harp? And some believe it's the lyrics that trigger the vision as they're written in the ancient language and "Nesta saw what the song spoke of". Some believe Nesta power reacting to the crackling energy around Gwyn is a sign that she is a Lightsinger, but like... that's an indicator she has powers just like how Nesta in a later chapter felt Merrill's ornerry power. How is crackling energy means it's a Lightsinger when we never saw them? Powers recognize each other sometimes, just like how Feyre was surprised when Eris was able to detect a cold flame in the Dagger Nesta forged when it was given to him as a gift (like calls to like, Eris also has flame power).

In the bonus chapter, it's described at one point that the Shadows danced with Gwyn's breath as if it heard some Silent MUSIC (emphasis on music and not song). What was referred to as Music between Souls? The mating bond. Interestingly enough it was that same night when Nessian consummated their bond and they were connected by a music between their souls. So that could be a hint, and at the end of the scene Azriel hears a distant beautiful singing and the shadows sing back, hard to tell whether if it's Gwyn, who went back to trying to cut the ribbon, starts to sing or it's also another wording for a hint at the mating bond (also called the Song of the Soul).

I'm more keen to believe it's the mating bond because there are far more parallels and similar mate language to support it across all her three series and if someone is going to tell me "but Lorcan's chest glowed after he took the blood oath from Aelin—" my love context matters in this case and it doesn't invalidate the 10+ examples I can pull out of similar mate language like in the bonus chapter.

To ADD, for Azriel to be lured to the library at 7pm because of said Lightsinger singing, he has to be able to HEAR the singing for the power to influence him and Azriel didn't hear any singing, he was conscious and aware of his actions. It was mentioned Nesta sang with Gwyn at the services frequently and she didn't make any comments on a vision being triggered or her constantly seeking out Gwyn so there are holes in those kind of conclusions—again, because we never see Lightsingers on page.

"But when he arrives to the library it chimed 7pm!! That's when they sing for the dusk service" welp that's another hole in the theory, it depends on Azriel being drawn to the library because of Gwyn's singing but if he showed up at the library and they don't sing until 7pm then before the clock chimes at 7pm, they weren't singing so... not a convincing answer. Also, Clotho is usually seen during those services and Azriel still found her at her desk.

Early on when ACOSF came out, some readers made connections between Lightsingers and Shadowsingers and made the assumption that Lightsingers are the Shadowsingers' Light counterparts. That's why you had people musing about Azriel's mate being a Lightsinger, but canonically Lightsingers are evil once we go back to the text but we don't even see them to know for sure how they wield their powers or if they even sing because Shadowsinger Azriel doesn't need to sing when he uses his power.

In an Elain book (in this scenario it's her and Azriel), I don't see any purpose of Gwyn being revealed as a Lightsinger or anything about her powers because it'll be used as a plot device for an Elain/Azriel romance rather than contribute to Gwyn's own growth and that's why I don't like it. It will have implications on Nesta and the Valkyries dynamic too. If that's the case it will mean Gwyn will need more page time in an Elain and Azriel book to tackle something like that, especially if they're going to "help" her since that's the reasoning I see often—that she's not evil but she doesn't know it and if she did they will help her but like... why? To make her realize she has been keeping them apart or that she wanted a necklace she didn't even have any clue about.

Given Gwyn's history who even at the end of the book said despite training it didn't erase the fact that she let her sister die, she is still dealing with survivor's guilt, she still refuses to wear the priestesses stone, and also her desire to leave the library and see the world (which we didn't see yet). She has a lot of promise as a character than be a plot device for someone else's relationship.

The way I see it, Gwyn's theoretical powers is used to absolve Azriel of any accountability for his actions (ala Necklacegate) because it's not a good look on him, so it's better to pin it on someone else by saying he was lured against his will (since I often see that the reasoning behind her presence in the bonus chapter is to hint at her powers).

So if I have to read about Gwyn dealing with her powers whether they're good or bad, I'd rather see it from her point of view and for it to be beneficial for her own personal arc and healing journey. My problem isn't her having questionable powers (which I don't mind because many SJM characters had questionable powers but used it for good), I don't want it to be used as a plot device for another couple just to smear her as a character and clear the actions of the other male character so his "love interest" doesn't blame him for his actions.

Whew, this was long but I adore Gwyn and I am not a fan of the current version of the Lightsinger theory. I think even if SJM makes it happen, it would probably play out way differently than the fandom expects.

Also, it's not in SJM's style to use other woman drama in her romances. The other women are often 💀 or insignificant past lovers. I don't see her taking that route with Gwyn at all.

She could be half Asteri and I would still love her and be eager to explore her powers and story, I just don't like it being used to further another couple's conflict or whatever (they already have Rhys and Lucien).

And no, I hate the idea of Gwyn being controlled by either Koschei or Merrill because it takes away her agency and the suggestion here is about her doing things that harms others, how will that not have any implications on Nesta and Emerie and the trio's healing journey? Given her own tragic history and the fact that she was helpless and powerless to help her twin sister and she's still dealing with survivor's guilt over it all.

"Why did you sign up for this, then?" Nesta drank the glass Gwyn extended. "If you already have mind-calming exercises you're accustomed to?"

"Because I don't ever want to feel powerless again," Gwyn said softly, and all those easy smiles and bright laughs were gone. Only stark, pained honesty shone in her remarkable eyes.

Her being controlled is putting her in a powerless position again because she has no choice but to do Koschei or "evil" Merrill's bidding that could potentially harm Nesta and the others. I despite it.

And if I have to read about any comparisons between Gwyn and Ianthe as proof that priestesses can be evil, I'll go insane.

Also, if Gwyn's power can influence anyone through her singing, it would've influenced every single person in the services. It would have influenced other members of the IC. This particular theory is weak and depends one interpretation of the text that tries to present itself as evidence of an evil creature that never even shows up on page.

Gwyn wasn't added in the bonus chapter by coincidence. Sarah confirmed she left crumbs all over the book and specifically his bonus chapter, and what we speculate may or may not be confirmed in the next book so you can't dismiss the bonus by saying it has no relevance when the author said she left crumbs for readers to theorize about, which leads me to believe she wants us to come up with different theories until she publishes the next book where we'll know for sure if we nailed it or not.

#gwynriel #gwyneth berdara

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