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miryum · 9 months

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A Green and Silver Ring (Mattheo Riddle x Reader)

An arranged marriage between you and Mattheo, one that might lead to something beautiful

Word Count: 10.3k

I know I haven't posted in a long time but I have a plan trust the process. Also, this is me coming out and saying that I love Mattheo Riddle and he's amazing

Warnings: Swearing, bad and manipulative parenting from both Mattheo and reader’s parents, a lot of misogyny (a bit from Mattheo but he gets better by a lot and it’s not that bad), arguments, Tom isn’t Mattheo’s brother and Tom is a creep, arranged marriage, one bed trope, enemies to lovers, greek mythology reference, talk of kids, needing kids to carry on family lines, and kids. Mistress is the feminine term for master (so reader isn’t Mattheo’s side piece when I refer to her as mistress), old timey talk a bit, reader is a bookworm

From the desk of Ginevra

My dearest friend,

My parents have informed me of your engagement. I was ecstatic, yet surprised, when I heard the news. I was of the assumption that your parents were allowing you to choose your husband as your family line is secure in your brother and his wife. Yet, once I learned who your husband-to-be is, I was trepidatious.

My thoughts are with you, my darling friend, and I pray for you to write to me the moment you get my letter.

I hate to break the news, but you and your fiancé are the talk of high society. Never before have two such families been intertwined. Even I have had to scold my brothers for their gossip. They seem to forget that our families are close friends.

I do not ask why your parents have made such a decision. I know they are intelligent adults and surely must have a motive, but I admit that I am blind in that regard. Your engagement seems sudden and unwarranted to me. When questioned, my mother sighed and said I would understand when I grew older. My mother continues to baffle me. I have borne two children and a third on the way! If I am not mature now, I better gain some knowledge quickly.

Always remember that I am by your side. If you ever need anything, my door is always open to you. I am sure Harry will agree.

I love you, my friend.

Ginny

From the office of Lorenzo

Miss. L/n,

I believe we’ve never been formally introduced. I’m saddened to say that this letter is as formal as we’ll get - at least until your wedding. I am sure you must be taciturn and mercurial as of now. My father has told me much about you and I believe we’ll make excellent friends and confidants in our hectic world.

You’re to be my new half-sister, aren’t you? My relatives and friends are petulant to meet you.

Before any rumours (either about myself or your fiancé) hit your ears, I’ll put a rest to them. Bellatrix, your fiancé’s mother, had an affair with my father. They produced me and in return, I have the privilege of being your fiancé’s half-brother.

Being a bastard child, I’m no stranger to being ostracised and ridiculed. To be blunt, I’m sure that you will be ostracised alongside me and I believe that is one reason we can connect.

For rumours of my half-brother, I simply say this: do not fear him. He relishes in the consternation he places in other people, yet when he heard he was to marry you, I saw panic in his eyes like no other. It seems the tables have turned. He is hesitant to be wed, but you are not the problem. He simply doesn’t want to have the responsibility of another’s life on his. Your fiancé is used to belittling people - not supporting them as a husband should.

Any questions you have about your fiancé and my half-brother (whom in case I didn’t make clear, are one and the same), refer to me without any qualms. I am eager to meet you and hopefully make your transition into the Riddle family smoother.

I am well aware you have also lived your life in the upper echelons of society. But, as I’m sure you know, there are multiple circles in our complicated community. The L/ns, the Weasleys, and the Potters, for example, have grown their fortunes truthfully and innocently. They have earned the respect of their people and those whom they employ. The Riddles, Blacks, and Berkshires, on the other hand, have climbed the ranks in unconventional means and by skipping a few rungs on the ladder. They thrive and make their living on the terror and duress they cause those under them.

I’m looking forward to making your acquaintance.

Lorenzo Berkshire

P.S. I hope I haven’t scared you off.

From the office of L/n

Daughter,

You’ll be pleased to hear the engagement has gone through. Your mother and I met your fiancé last night. He seems like a nice man. He will be able to provide for you. His family is influential.

We will return home late tomorrow evening. You will depart for Riddle Estate in a week. Begin packing.

Your father

From the desk of Ginevra

Y/n,

You worry me with your lack of communication. Usually, you can’t wait to gossip with me. We have such fun at dinners and balls, yet with the most important aspect of yourself, you don’t respond. I’m simply worried, my friend. Are you alright? I can envision you curled in your bed, not letting anyone, even your nursemaid, into your room. Please do not let your impending marriage affect your state of health. It will turn out alright. Everyone I know (even me!) had apprehensions about their marriage. And with everyone I know, it turned out alright.

Misters Sirius and Remus visited Harry and I the day before last. They came to see James and Albus, but I know there was a hidden reason as well. They know of our friendship and came to ask if the rumours are true. As much as my husband adores them, Sirius in particular can be prone to gossip. The pair tittered and tsked when I told them of your fiancé. Sirius wishes to distance himself from his family, and I know he has pre-existing thoughts of the Black family, and by extension, the Riddles.

Sometimes I take a moment to gaze at the family tree upon my drawing room wall. It is full of interconnected lines and squiggles that sometimes, it makes my head hurt! The web of family ties is complicated and if we’re not somehow related already, I know that we will be once your marriage takes place. It seems the Black family spreads its roots into the Weasley family and the Riddle family- the latter of which you’ll soon be synonymous with.

Give yourself some grace. Your fiancé falls far from the tree; I am sure of it.

Please write to me. I need to make sure my closest friend is doing well.

Best wishes,

Ginny

P.S. Hermione wishes to inform you that, from what she’s heard, your Mr. Riddle is quite attractive. I have yet to hear any of the rumours myself, but at least your husband will be pleasing to the eye. Perhaps it will make the marriage more bearable.

***

Mattheo strode leisurely through Riddle Manor. It was one of the many estates his family owned, and it was soon to be officially his. Just as soon as he married the L/n girl.

The manor was spacious, which Mattheo couldn’t help but detest. How was he and a wife supposed to fill this void of empty rooms and dark halls? He knew servants and cooks would move in, but they wouldn’t occupy the dozens of upper rooms that were vacated.

For a brief moment, Mattheo couldn’t help but envision a set of children running around the halls. One of the children would run up to him, shouting, “Papa! Papa!” Mattheo would scoop the child up, grinning, and would carry them to their room. The room would be bright and cheerful, and maybe, just maybe, you would be sitting on a settee, cradling a newborn or helping an older child with their school work.

But for now, the room was dark and uninviting and he had yet to meet his future wife. He had seen a portrait of the L/n family and while they were in lavish, colourful clothing, Mr. and Mrs. L/n seemed cold and stoic - just like his parents. The children, an older son and younger daughter (whom he presumed to be you), seemed kinder and by their body language, Mattheo could tell that the two siblings were close.

Mattheo slowly made his way down the hall. There were three wings of the manor; two were residential and the other was designed for taking guests. The East Wing - in which he and Miss. L/n would stay - was also fit with an office for him. He was expected to take over half of the family business once he got married. The West Wing would remain empty for now, sans for a large library and the furniture in the bedrooms.

The boy knew that his bride was to arrive later that day. She would stay at Riddle Estate until the end of the week. Just three short days before they were to be wed in name. Mattheo would move into Riddle Manor tonight, giving servants time to wipe the dust off of tables, shine the silverware, and fluff the pillows.

Mattheo walked the halls of his new home. His mind was devoid of any thoughts. Perhaps it was simply because he was always numb. Even when he heard of his engagement, Mattheo didn’t make a fuss. He didn’t remember thinking anything. Nothing such as ‘Oh, I can’t wait to meet her!’ or even, ‘I can’t believe mother and father are arranging my marriage! She better be obedient.’

No, Mattheo had thought nothing of the sort. He had spent his childhood quietly observing his father and mother, noticing the amount of fear they could inflict on people just by silence. You didn’t have to be loud and dramatic to be powerful. You simply couldn’t be afraid to follow up on your promises - however deadly they were.

The only question Mattheo had asked when Bellatrix informed him of his engagement was, “and what do we gain from the L/n’s?”

Bellatrix had shot him an callous and apathetic look. “Do not ask questions you needn’t the answers to, boy.”

Mattheo had glowered, but shut his mouth.

As he neared the foyer, Mattheo couldn’t help but think how marriage was a component in all aspects of his life. When he got married to the L/n girl, he would inherit a portion of his father’s estates, company, and wealth. Mattheo chucked to himself. Maybe he should’ve gotten married sooner.

***

“Pray tell, why weren’t you here when she arrived?” Bellatrix snarled as she gripped Mattheo’s arm. Her nails dug into his suit as she dragged him towards the drawing room.

“I was busy,” Mattheo replied harshly. Love was not a thing that came instinctively to his family.

“Doing what? Planning your suidide?” Bellatrix scoffed. “I would march to the Underworld and choke Hades to bring you back.” Mattheo glanced down at his mother, hesitantly surprised. But he knew better than to raise his hopes and dreams. “We need this contract with the L/n’s,” Bellatrix continued and Mattheo’s jaw ticked. Of course. She didn’t love him; she never had. Her son was purely business. He should’ve known better.

“Maybe if you would tell me what the L/n’s provide for us,” Mattheo pulled Bellatrix back before she threw open the door to where you were. “Then I would be more complacent.”

Bellatrix sneered. “You think you’re smart, boy. You think you have everything figured out in that pretty little head of yours. But remember: you’re nothing without the Riddle family name backing you up.” She paused and licked her lips. “But if you must know,” Bellatrix sighed, giving into Mattheo. “The L/n’s just came into some very… lucrative land that we could gain from if you marry Miss. Y/n L/n.”

Mattheo’s eyes flickered to the drawing room door. After a moment, he asked, “is that her name? Y/n?”

Bellatrix stared at him, aghast. “You didn’t bother to learn her name?!” She scoffed. “With a son like you…”

She pushed open the drawing room doors and Mattheo trudged after her, muttering, “at least I know her name now.”

You had been waiting for seven minutes and thirty nine seconds in the drawing room of Riddle Estate, the trackage of time dependent on the old grandfather clock standing ominously in the corner. Its pendulum swung back and forth continuously as its second hand ticked by. Mrs. Riddle had left seven minutes and thirty nine seconds ago to fetch her son.

While the room was perfectly clean, not a speck of dust on even the highest chandelier, it was still a cold and morose room, yet oddly epochal. The wood was the darkest mahogany you had ever seen and the lights cast odd shadows on the dark green wallpaper that had inlays of gold.

Your teacup that you were trying to hold steady was filled with a sad excuse for tea. There was a ring of gold around the mouth of the teacup. On the table beside you, a notch that looked as if someone dug a knife into the surface caught your attention. It was the little things like this that you noticed when you had nothing else to do. Your mind was trying to distract you.

The door then swung open and there stood your fiancé, his stare daring you to oppose him.

“Uh,” you stood, your teacup and saucer still in hand. You quickly placed them on the table, right over the knife nick. “Y/n L/n,” you introduced yourself. You bowed your head in an informal curtsy.

Mattheo’s eyes flickered over your face. “Mattheo Riddle,” he said coldly. His voice was practically velvet. You didn’t mean to look him up and down, but you couldn’t help it. He was to be your husband, after all.

Mattheo’s hair coiled at the end and his eyes were just as dark as his curls. His nose had a scarred cut on it that looked as if it was just beginning to heal. Your fiancés cheekbones were practically sculpted from marble and for a moment, you believed that the gods had simply breathed life into a statue. Did this make you Pygmalion and Mattheo Galatea?

If it weren’t for their lethal eyes and stern posture, perhaps more would be friendly to the Riddles.

Mattheo spoke, “you’re to be my fiancée.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.” You had the urge to add ‘sir’ at the end, but you bit your tongue.

Bellatrix hissed something to Mattheo and thrust a small object into his hands. Mattheo rolled his eyes and stalked towards you. “My family ring,” he grumbled. He held out an intricate silver ring with three bands interweaving. A green jewel cut into a thin diamond shape sat steadily in the middle. “It has been in the Riddle family for generations. It’s tradition to pass it down to the wife of the firstborn son. And now that is you…”

He trailed off and handed the ring to you, it laying flat on his palm. You took it from him, trying to minimise contact with Mattheo. You nodded in thanks and slid it into your ring finger.

It seemed too concrete to fathom.

Mattheo stared at the ring on your finger. A muscle jumped in his jaw. “My… wife,” he murmured halfheartedly.

***

Three weeks had passed since the wedding and it was as if you had never gotten married in the first place. Yes, it was unsettling to wake up in a bed that wasn’t your own next to a man that you were supposed to call your own. But other than necessary, Mattheo had hardly uttered a word to you.

In the three weeks you had stayed there, you had seen Mattheo a total of twenty eight times, including mornings and nights when you were forced to sleep in the same bed.

Your mornings, afternoons, and nights were all incredibly boring. You took long meals, pushing your food around. Sometimes you just sat by the window and watched the wind blow bits of grass and dirt past the window. The servants were still extracting the dust between the couch cushions and you tried to stay out of the way, but it only made you feel more isolated.

Mattheo was holed up in his office day in and day out. He had now inherited a large portion of his father’s company and Mattheo was determined to uphold the honour bestowed upon him. He had drafted contracts, sold and bought land, and even hosted a few dinner parties for his associates.

You detested the dinner parties. Thankfully, Mattheo had yet to invite you to one - hell, he had yet to speak to you about the dinner parties. You had learned of the first dinner party when you had wandered downstairs one late evening because you were thirsty. You had stared at the group of strangers, all dressed in elegance, as they stared back at you in your night clothes. Not saying a word, you had sighed and returned upstairs.

You hadn’t been eager for the marriage, but wouldn't it befit Mattheo to show some affection? Or at least acknowledge your presence?

While you had continuously tried to get your husband to open up to you, his answers had been short and venomous.

It had been a long, monotonous day for you. You had returned to the master bedroom about two hours earlier than you normally would have if you were at home.

With the wealth that you came from, the opulence was sure to be evident, but you had underestimated the Riddle family’s prestige. When Mattheo had first shown you your shared bedroom, you had to allow a flicker of surprise break through your facade. The bedroom was larger than any room in your old home and had a large bed in the middle. The lamps on the bedside table were always dimly lit and the design of the room was the same as the rest of the house - dark and bereft of love and care.

Your hair had been brushed enough, but you kept brushing simply for something to do while Mattheo finished up in the bathroom. Mattheo walked out of the ensuite with a towel wrapped around his waist. His curls were plastered to his forehead and a bead of water ran down his sternum.

Your eyes flickered to his figure through the mirror, taking in the dips and curves of Mattheo’s muscles as he silently got ready for bed. You tore your gaze away, berating yourself.

You built up your courage and tried to think of a conversation starter. You commented, “my parents wrote to me today.” After no reply from Mattheo, you continued, “they asked me when we would give them grandchildren.” You set your hairbrush down and stared at Mattheo through the mirror, looking for some sort of reaction.

Mattheo hummed noncommittally and put on some sleep pants. He used his towel to begin drying his hair. “It would be behoove us to produce some heirs,” he spoke. His tone was dismissive, as if children were nothing more than an obligation or duty to fulfil.

“Right,” you muttered, knowing that an uninterested reaction was all you were going to get out of him.

You stood and moved towards the bed. “Goodnight,” you whispered, turning off the bedside lamp and tucking yourself into bed. Mattheo was still putting on his nightclothes and had yet to get into bed.

As you turned off the light and got into bed, Mattheo finished drying himself off and slid into his own pyjamas. He sat down beside you, but didn't bother turning off his own lamp. Instead, he laid against the headboard, reading a book. "Goodnight," he finally mumbled, not even looking at you.

You curled into your blanket. After a moment, you asked quietly, “what book are you reading?”

He looked at you over the top of his book. "None of your business," he replied curtly.

You simply uttered, “okay.”

Mattheo felt an unwanted and unusual feeling root itself deep in his stomach. He scoffed and said sarcastically, "fine. Go ahead and keep asking questions all night long if it amuses you so." He opened his book again and pretended to read.

A longing and lonely pang resonated in your chest at his harsh words. You didn’t respond and instead turned your face into your pillow. You had known that your marriage was to be loveless, but it still hurt at every unspoken word. Perhaps, if you had been five years younger when you married Mattheo, your spirit would still be alive with the juvenile belief that you could stand up to him.

Mattheo huffed and his gaze turned up to stare at the wall ahead of him. “If you’re so miserable, then why don’t you just leave?” he snapped, not even bothering to hide his bitterness. “I am sure your family would simply love to have you back.” He flipped another page in his book, not even bothering to look at the printed words.

“I never said I was miserable,” you answered quietly, even though Mattheo knew it wasn’t true. Perhaps, though, you believed it to be true. You took a steadying breath, closing your eyes.

Your husband smirked and leaned against the headboard. “What do you call your attitude, then? Why are you so downtrodden and defeated? Surely, you can’t blame me for being frustrated by it.” He knew that he should be taking account of making you feel this way, but he still tried to justify his behaviour.

“Goodnight,” you reiterated.

Mattheo sighed dramatically. “Whatever,” he grunted. He closed his book, threw it on the nightstand, and turned off his lamp. The room was encased in darkness except for the dim moonlight coming through the window. He shifted towards the edge of the bed, making sure a noticeable gap was between the two of you.

He thought back to your conversation. “Why don’t you just leave?”

It was too late now to apologise.

***

Mattheo let the door swing shut behind him, returning to Riddle Manor after an outing with friends. He glanced around, waiting for a servant to take his coat, but no one answered. An eyebrow cocked, Mattheo slowly walked up the stairs, hearing you instruct the servants on something, every other sentence of yours either containing, ‘please’ or ‘thank you’. Up on the landing, he found you directing a servant who was pulling a rack of your clothing. “What the hell are you doing?” he demanded. “Have you lost your damn mind? Are you trying to send a message or something?”

“You’ve made it perfectly clear that you have no interest in me, so I’m trying to make this marriage as civilised as possible,” you said diplomatically. “I believe that if I move to the West Wing and leave you in the East Wing, it will benefit our marriage.”

“What exactly do you hope to accomplish with this piteous attempt at attention?” he asked rhetorically. “Do you think it’ll make me want you more?” He stuck his tongue in his cheek, grinning incredulously. “You’re delusional if you think that’s even remotely possible.” He stepped closer to you, towering over you with anger in his eyes. “This is not some game, L/n. This is marriage. You’re stuck with me whether you like it or not.”

“I’m aware that we’re married, Riddle,” you retorted. “And don’t refer to me by L/n anymore. I am now a Riddle - just like you. However, I am not going to live in a state of constant sorrow and dejection. Having a wing of the mansion to myself may help.”

Mattheo’s jaw tightened as he stared at you, irritated by your resistance. “Fine,” he growled. “But don’t expect me to come running after you when you decide you want attention. You’re on your own now.” He turned away from you and walked into his now solo bedroom. “Just remember - this is your choice.”

You felt your anger inflate. “I thought you would like this!” Your voice rose and you tugged a hand through your hair. It was the first time in your marriage that you had fought back. “I have done everything I can to please you, yet nothing is enough for you!” Your voice turned desperate. “What do you want from me?”

He stopped in his tracks, turning around with surprise and disgust on his face. “Dammit, Y/n! Don’t yell at me like that!” His voice thundered, stepping towards you. “I never asked for any of this! I didn’t ask for a wife or for you to try so hard to please me! All of this is ridiculous.” His hand slashed through the air to make a point. “All I want is some space. Space to figure out what the hell I want. But let’s make one thing clear: I don’t care about you.”

“Am I not giving you space?” Your fists clenched at your sides. “I am moving out of the bedroom and out of your way. Yet, you erupt at me and get angry over nothing! You send me mixed messages and I don’t know what to do.”

Mattheo took a breath, trying to regain control over his emotions. “I am not erupting! Lord, you are so sensitive!” he snapped, running a hand over his face. “Can’t you listen for once? I am not sending you mixed signals. I am trying to figure out my place in this unorthodox situation we’re in.”

After a beat of silence, you asked firmly, “did you talk about me?” After seeing a flicker of confusion on his face, you clarified, “when you were out with your friends, did you talk about me? Did you rant about how annoying I was? Did you complain about marriage?”

His lips parted before taking a breath. “Yes, I talked about you,” he admitted begrudgingly. “I complained about how frustrating I find you and how frustrated I am with my parents for arranging this senseless marriage.”

“What did they say?” you insisted. “Did they sympathise? Did they laugh at me? Did they add fuel to your fire by commenting about how… how ‘needy’ and ‘sensitive’ I am?”

Mattheo made a low sound in his chest and rubbed his temples, frustrated by your persistence. “They agreed with me, yes. A few believed that you are too emotionally attached and sentimental. Others chalked it up to the pains of an average marriage.”

Your anger flared up and you said, “Let me tell you this: I never wanted marriage either. But I at least tried. I tried to be a nice and loving wife and a kind human.” You turned on your heel, marching out of the bedroom and towards the West Wing.

Mattheo watched you go, an unwanted feeling of guilt washing over him. He sighed and walked over to the window. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. “Why is everything so damn complicated?”

For the next couple of weeks, you stayed true to your word. You avoided Mattheo and his office and stayed in your wing of the mansion. After a week or two, you decided to explore the mansion, stumbling upon a magnificent library. You inhaled in veneration when someone cleared their throat. Mattheo stood behind you, raising an brow. After a silence, you said recalcitrantly, “you never told me that Riddle Manor had a library.”

He smirked at your thinly veiled hatred, amused despite himself. “Well, now you know,” he said dryly. “It’s a perk of living in a Riddle household.” He walked over to a bookshelf and began browsing for a book he required for a contract that was being drafting. He showed no sign of embarrassment or discomfort at your presence. “You may use it whenever you want. But don’t expect me to join a book club or anything juvenile.”

“I would never dream of it,” you said sarcastically. You step further into the library and can’t help but gape at the vastness. You trailed your fingers over the book spines, breathing in the smell of old books. You crouched down to examine a series of poetry titles. “I can read any of these?” you asked hesitantly.

He nodded and leaned against the shelf behind him, crossing his arms over his chest. “Feel free to read whatever you would like. They’re here for the entire household. Well, the servants don’t have time to read books, so in a Riddle household, the parents and children use the library the most.” Your hand faltered over the titles. “If you find something that catches your eye, go ahead and take it. I won’t stop you.” There was a hint of curiosity in his voice, as if he wished to know what topics and books piqued your interest. You hummed quietly, not fully acknowledging his words. You were already picking up a book and leafing through it. Mattheo watched you for a moment, his eyes softening briefly.

Everyday, you returned to the library. It was an escape from the walls of your room and the walls that Mattheo had put up around his heart.

Eventually, the servants recognised your routine and began to start a fire in the fireplace to keep you warm. They moved a loveseat in front of the fire that you gratefully used. You devoured the poetry collection, including Shakespeare and Edgar Allen Poe, and started on the classics. Every once in a while, Mattheo would come into the library, but he wouldn’t talk. He simply took a book and returned to his study. Sometimes, you wondered if he remembered you lived in the mansion with him.

Mattheo found himself frequenting the library more often, looking for books he had never needed before. A swell of pride filled him whenever he saw you by the fire, knowing that something in his home brought you such comfort. He still refused to speak to you, maintaining distance and ignoring your existence, but he found himself increasingly drawn to your presence.

One day, on a whim, he decided to take a risk and left a stack of his favourite books on the table next to your chair. That afternoon, you found the stack of books. You smiled despite yourself, though you didn't make any comment to Mattheo. You picked up the first book, sat down in the chair, and began to read.

A week later, Mattheo was hosting a dinner party for his associates. He didn’t say a word about it to you, though you heard the servants preparing for it. You decided not to go, opting to stay in your safe haven of the library.

After an hour or so of faint music, you heard the door to the library squeak open and your head whipped up. You saw one of Mattheo’s friends, Tom, enter and look around. He spotted you and his lips curled up into a smirk. “So you’re the wife we’ve heard so much about?”

Your stomach clenched and you replied, “I guess so.”

Tom’s smirk grew wider as he took in your terse response, enjoying your obvious discomfort. He approached you with a lecherous gaze in his eyes before asking, “and how do you find life as Mrs. Riddle? Are you enjoying your… arrangement?” His words dripped with sarcasm, not believing for a moment that you and Mattheo were married for love.

You stared at him. “It has its perks,” you said simply.

Tom laughed derisively at your response, not convinced by your nonchalance. “And what are those perks?” he asked, moving closer to you. “Extravagant gifts? Luxurious vacations? Or simply the privilege of being married to such a powerful man?”

You squared your shoulders. “I am powerful without a man,” you said sharply. “I do not need a man to determine my worth and prowess.”

Tom scoffed. “Really? How exactly did you become powerful on your own?” he asked, challenging you. “I find it hard to believe that you could ever achieve anything significant without the backing of a powerful husband behind you.” He leaned in closer, grinning.

You closed your book with a snap. “The L/n family,” you said, talking of your maiden lineage, “has had control over many estates and affairs for decades. Without Mattheo Riddle, I would’ve inherited half of it, second only to my brother. I would’ve had four auspicious companies at my ready disposal, capable of doing most anything. So, yes, sir, I would have been momentous without him.”

Tom’s smirk faded as he recognised your family name. He remained undeterred, however, stating, “that explains why your husband was so eager to marry you. He must see you as a valuable asset to his business empire.”

As you opened your mouth to retort, the door banged open and Mattheo strode into the library.

Mattheo had noticed Tom’s absence from his party, but when it became too long to be excused as a restroom break, Mattheo had asked his brother, Enzo, if he had seen where he had gone. Enzo had smiled a small smile and whispered, “Tom went to the library. Where your darling wife stays hidden.”

Mattheo saw red.

He barged into the library, a deadly, lethal, and borderline possessive look deep in his eyes. When he saw Tom flanking you, Mattheo’s expression darkened and his hands clenched into a ready fist. “What the hell are you doing here?” Mattheo demanded, his voice low and dangerous. “This is a private wing of my home - not some place for you to bother my wife.”

Mattheo moved closer to you, placing himself between you and Tom as if to protect you from further harm.

Tom quickly stepped back and placed a confident demeanour on his face. “I was simply having a conversation with your lovely wife here,” Tom gritted his teeth.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, showing clearly that Tom was lying and intruding. You saw Mattheo’s eyes flicker down to you, his eyes softening reassuringly before snapping back to Tom, malice in his gaze.

“Don’t lie to me,” Mattheo snapped at Tom. “There’s no need for any sort of interaction or conversation with my wife unless I am present.” Mattheo placed a hand on the top of your chair, his fingers gripping it and his bicep flexing slightly to warn Tom.

Tom’s eyes flicked with something you hadn’t seen before: fear. Fear commonly associated with the Riddle name. He adjusted his collar and straightened his posture. “Of course, Mr. Riddle,” he said bitterly.

You raised a brow. “I think it’s time for you to go now,” you said, your face stoic. Tom bowed his head slightly before exiting the library. You didn’t look up to meet Mattheo’s eye. You murmured, “you didn’t have to do that. I had it covered.”

Mattheo watched Tom until he completely left the room before turning to look down on you. His voice was threatening, “you may have been able to handle Tom, but I won’t tolerate anyone disrespecting or harassing you while you’re under my roof. Consider this a warning - if anyone tries to cross you again, they will regret it.”

“Perhaps you should tell your coworkers that. Not me,” you replied.

Mattheo’s expression was cold. “Fine. I will,” he growled. “I will not sit idly by and allow anyone to disrespect my wife.” He let go of your chair and adjusted the cuffs of his suit. As if in a business meeting, he said, “And consider this another warning: if you continue to act so stubbornly, I won’t hesitate to remind you of your place in this marriage.”

“My place in this marriage is your wife!” you cried out, finally standing up. “Your equal! Something you seem to forget until it’s convenient for you. Or until another man threatens your… your property! I doubt you see me any differently than this house or your assets.”

Mattheo grabbed onto your arm tightly, pulling you close and leaning down so his face was inches from yours. “Do not ever speak to me like that. You are not my equal - you are my wife and I decide what is best for both of us. If you cannot accept that, then you should reconsider your place in this marriage.” He released your arm and turned away from you, striding towards the door. “I suggest you reflect on your behaviour,” he added icily, leaving the room without looking back.

After he left the library, you let out a scream of frustration. You shoved the pile of books that Mattheo had carefully curated to the floor. They tumbled down, book after book, covers opening and pages bending. Tears pricked at your eyes as you examined the scene.

You slumped into your chair, the fire in front of your crackling softly, emitting a calming warmth.

Eventually, you fell asleep in the chair, tear stains on your cheeks. In the morning, you woke to the serene morning light filtering into the room - a vast contrast to your mood. The fire had dissolved into crackling embers. Tucked on top of you was a thick blanket and the stack of books that you had pushed over had been re-piled and stood majestically atop the table.

You sighed, knowing you should thank the servants for taking care of you and cleaning up.

After you walked to the kitchen, your footfalls heavy, you thanked the servants, who were finishing preparing breakfast. They exchanged glances and one piped up, “Ma’am, while we appreciate the sentiment, we didn’t do that. We weren’t aware that you were still in the library. We believed you had retired to bed before the social last night.” They paused and then added, “however, Mr. Riddle didn’t go to bed. He was in his study until morning light.”

“Oh,” was all you could say. You bid them an awkward goodbye before entering the dining hall.

Mattheo was already seated at the head of the table, his expression exhausted and distant. He didn’t acknowledge you when you approached, focusing instead on the uneaten plate of food in front of him.

You sat down opposite him and muttered, “the servants informed me that you blanketed me last night and cleaned up the books.” You hesitated and finally said, “thank you.”

Mattheo looked up briefly, his expression unreadable, but he didn’t respond directly. “It was necessary,” he said simply. “You should not be cold and uncomfortable in your own home.” He doesn’t make any effort to engage in conversation beyond that. Something was weighing heavily on his mind and he seemed preoccupied by it.

You hummed in response. Eventually, you stood and whispered to your husband before walking out, “you are not as cold as you want to seem. You needn’t keep the facade up with me.”

Mattheo looked up briefly before returning to his food. His expression relaxed, but he didn’t respond.

***

Later that day, Mattheo sat in his study as he always did. A knock came from the door and he glanced at the clock. It was a bit early for lunch to be delivered, but he announced, “come in.”

The door creaked open and your head peeked into the room. Mattheo’s brows furrowed - not with malice, but with scrutiny. You entered and sat in one of the two seats next to his fireplace. Silently, you cracked open a book you had brought and began to read.

Mattheo watched you intently, his gaze never wavering as he took in every detail of your face. He tried to find any acrimonious intent behind your actions, but you looked so peaceful. He found himself noticing the details of your face and your beauty as the fire cast warm highlights on your eyes. “What are you doing?” he asked eventually, his voice holding an armour of needed suspicion.

“Reading,” you said simply.

Mattheo frowned, not convinced by your answer. Why would you read in his study after the way he had been treating you? He leaned back in his chair, his work forgotten. “Isn’t there something more important that you could be occupying your time with?” he challenged.

“Not particularly,” you responded. “You’re in charge of the companies and estates. I have nothing to do. I thought I would accompany you. You must get lonely in a study by yourself.”

Mattheo narrowed his eyes, but ultimately nodded slowly. “Alright,” he agreed after a moment. “But don’t think I will stop working simply because my wife is here.” His posture grew taut as he began looking over documents again. “This is still my office and I expect you to behave accordingly.”

“I’m simply reading,” you murmured, a smile inching its way up your lips.

Henceforth, a routine was established. Every morning, you would knock on Mattheo’s study door, usually an hour or so after he began working. There was rarely conversation, the silence being broken by Mattheo’s scratch of a quill or you turning pages, occasionally being disrupted by the loud crack of a log in the fire.

One day, you had finished your book (it was an excellent book, one from the pile Mattheo had recommended) and stood to go retrieve another one. At the sound of your footsteps leaving his office, Mattheo’s head darted up and he suddenly asked, “where are you going?”

You paused and turned back to him. “I’m to get a new book. Unfortunately, as wonderful as this one was, it had an ending like all books do.”

Mattheo frowned and a hint of vulnerability broke through his exterior. “Get a servant to do it,” he offered.

“Well, I don’t know which one I want,” you counted, raising a brow in a smirk.

He huffed and shook his head, returning his eyes to his documents. He grumbled, “I will commission the servants to build you a small bookshelf for my office. You can keep your books there.” You stood, watching him for a moment, admiring him until his gaze snapped up. “Well, go get your book,” he said sharply. “… but hurry back,” he added in a mumble.

You finally smiled at him before exiting and Mattheo gazed at the place you once stood, trying to memorise how your lips curled up and your eyes crinkled when you smiled.

He rather liked it when you smiled.

***

“Are you alright?”

You sniffed and laughed. “Yes, yes. I’m being foolish.” You wiped some tears from your eyes. “My book is very good.”

Mattheo chuckled lowly. “And what made you cry, hm?”

“A daughter and father interaction,” you replied quietly.

“Was the father cruel to the daughter?” Mattheo laughed tersely, shaking his head at his documents. “Are your feelings not strong enough to withstand their wrath?”

You frowned at Mattheo, setting the book down. “No,” you corrected slowly. “The father was being kind to his daughter. He was supporting her and loving her; as a father should.” There was a pause as Mattheo looked up at you. “I know that the Riddles are a harsher family - I’ve known ever since I knew I was to marry you. But… but are you alright?”

You felt absurd asking the question. Yet, when Mattheo couldn’t meet your eye, a wistful sadness blanketing the room, you felt as if you should’ve asked the simple question weeks earlier.

For a moment, he said nothing. Then Mattheo turned in his chair so his back was facing you. "I'm fine," he finally answered, his voice rough and strained. "I am used to dealing with it, I suppose." Despite his insistence that he didn't need anyone's pity or concern, your words seem to have affected him more deeply than he wanted to admit.

“May I ask a question?” you asked softly.

Mattheo hesitated for a moment before nodding, his eyes never leaving the window as he spoke. "Ask away," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. He then cleared his throat and said, "but I won’t give a warm and fuzzy answer."

There was a pregnant pause in the air as you gathered your courage up and suddenly thrust your fears upon your husband. “If we ever have children, which we’re somewhat expected to,” you added hurriedly. “I don’t want them to grow up in a household where they feel as if they have to vie for love or attention. And I don’t want me to be the only one giving them attention.” Mattheo turned his head so his face was angled toward you, but his eyes could still stray to the window if need be. “If we have kids, can you promise that you’ll love them? Even if you don’t love me?”

Even though your voice was steady, Mattheo knew of the vulnerability deeply rooted within you.

He nodded cautiously, his expression serious. "I promise," he said firmly. "I may not love you, but I will love our children unconditionally. They will never have to compete for my affection or feel neglected. I may not be a fond father, but I will provide for them and protect them as best I can." A protectiveness filled his veins just at the thought of something happening to his future children.

You nodded once, a sad smile on your face. “Perhaps we’ll have a big family. Enough children to start a sports team.” You smiled at the thought, laughing lightly.

Mattheo smiled, despite himself, imagining a large brood of children running around the manor. It was an oddly appealing idea, even if he wouldn't admit it out loud. "We'll see," he said noncommittally. "I'd rather have lots of sons; they'll carry on the family name and ensure my legacy continues." He turned back around and attempted to focus on his work.

“And daughters too.” You frowned, staring at your husband, even if he wouldn’t spare you a glance. “Daughters can carry on the family name just as well as sons.” A muscle in your jaw ticked.

Mattheo scowled at your defiance, his eyes narrowing slightly. Why hadn’t you just fallen into line? "Fine, daughters too," he reluctantly agrees. "But make no mistake, they will be raised to be strong and capable like their brothers. The Riddle name demands nothing less."

“And the sons can be soft and caring and sensitive,” you said firmly, crossing your arms. “I thought we agreed that they wouldn’t have to vie for affection. I thought we agreed that they wouldn’t have needless competition in their life. I don’t want them to grow up… like, well… you.” You finally uttered the words that had been hanging off your tongue dangerously.

Mattheo’s expression hardened as he clenched his fist tightly. "Fine!" he snapped. "They can be whatever the hell you want them to be! But don't expect me to sit back and watch while they become weaklings and failures. We need to teach them to be strong and ruthless like I am." He stood up abruptly, knocking over his chair in the process.

You jump up after him, crossing towards him. You whirled to a stop in front of him, jabbing a finger towards his chest. “Listen here, Riddle. Just because someone is kind and vulnerable doesn’t mean they’re weak!” You growled, “and just because you grew up like that, does not mean that’s the type of household I am going to have.”

Mattheo stepped forward and his hand flew up to grip your wrist. His eyes blazed with anger, but then something changed in his expression and he took a step back, looking surprised at his own reaction. "You're right," he admitted begrudgingly. "I shouldn't have assumed that being vulnerable meant being weak." He ran a hand through his hair, looking embarrassed, yet resolute in his decision. "But don't expect me to be a pushover either. I'll still teach them to be strong and independent."

“Strong and independent are good qualities,” you conceded. “Both for the boys and girls.”

"Agreed," he said. Mattheo straightened his cuffs and cleared his throat. "Our children will be taught to be strong and independent, regardless of gender. They will know that they are loved and valued by both of us, equally." He held out his hand to you, indicating that the argument was over - for now at least. "Deal?"

“Deal.” You shook his hand defiantly. It was a business deal, but a good deal at least.

Mattheo exhaled and brushed past you. “I’m to a meeting,” he informed you. It was a simple comment , one that was an offhand remark, but to you, Mattheo had just let you into his life. It was something he had never done before. Even if it was just a response to where he was off to, it was a window into his life. A life that now may have enough room to hold you.

Mattheo paused when he reached the door. “I never knew the way I grew up was wrong until I saw other families. I saw the parents bending down to listen to their children instead of hushing them. I saw parents comforting their children after scraped knees, not pushing them to the kitchen for some rubbing alcohol. I saw parents beaming when their child could plunk out the simplest of tunes on the piano. No one else got berated for being out of rhythm or playing a D instead of an E. I never saw another child get slapped by their parents or scolded as harshly as I was. It was around then I realised that something was wrong. But what was I to do about it?”

Words dried in your throat. You wanted to cry at his words, but you felt dried out. How could someone treat their child like that? It explained so much…

Your husband was a fragile man, you were just realising. And he was trying to pick up the pieces and present them to you in the only way he knew how.

"The stars remind me of you,” he said quietly, the change in conversation sudden. “I mean that in the best possible way.” His voice was the softest and most tender as you had ever heard it. You hoped he would keep speaking the melodies that made your heart sing in tune.

“How so?” you asked, afraid to break the plane of existence that you and Mattheo were carefully standing on.

"They are so beautiful, yet so far away. I may see them, but I can never touch them."

***

The servants didn’t know what to do. The master and mistress, Mr. and Mrs. Riddle, seemed to be at a ceasefire. The cooks lamented at how they had seemed to be doing so well. The maids thought they were destined to doom from the start. The butlers gossiped about Mr. Riddle’s letters to a Mr. Tom, terminating their long-term partnership. The scullery maid still had hope that the husband and wife would come to their senses and live a happy life.

It perplexed the servants when the mistress requested to move her belongings back into the master bedroom and the master looked on, a soft smile on his lips. It confused the servants when the Mr and Mrs began taking meals together and talking in hushed tones late into the night. And it bamboozled the servants when, one summer afternoon, the Lord of the household stood from his desk, cautiously moved to his Lady that was reading by the open window, and asked her to accompany him on a walk. She had accepted.

There was to be a dinner party, this time hosted at Mr. Draco Malfoy’s manor, that Mr. Riddle was expected to attend. Per usual, the master didn’t invite the mistress, but she was content to stay home. A maid briefly heard the madam whisper to her husband, “hurry home, please? I don’t like it when you’re away.” The maid had scurried away before she could hear the reply.

Mattheo returned home that night, just before the sun was setting. He climbed the steps, unbuttoning his cuffs and loosening his tie. The soft glow of light was still shining under your shared bedroom - something he still hadn’t gotten used to - and Mattheo couldn’t help but smile.

“Why are you still up?” he asked quietly when he entered the room.

“You promised to be home early and I wanted to see you before I go to bed,” you reminded him, a small book in your hands.

“Right, right.” Mattheo chuckled and shook his head, slinging off his tie and jacket.

“How was the dinner?”

Mattheo hummed noncommittally. “Not the worst. A couple of my good friends, Theo and Pansy, were there to help alleviate the pain of socialising. But… I found something odd happening.”

“And what was that, husband?” Mattheo took a moment to relish in the way that word curled off your tongue effortlessly.

“I found myself wishing you were there. Nay,” he quickly corrected himself. “I wished I was here with you.”

“Oh?” Your eyes flickered up towards Mattheo, a slight blush coming to your cheeks. “Why… what do you mean by that?”

Mattheo began to unbutton his shirt and moved towards his closet. “Well,” he admitted, mumbling to himself. “I simply mean that instead of having to socialise with people who are too tightly wound and whose only intent is to take my money,” he chucked his belt into his closet and rolled up his sleeves, “I would rather be at home with my darling wife.”

A smile inched up your lips. “Really? Tell me more about this darling wife of yours.”

Mattheo hummed, stepping towards the bed. He crawled down on the bed, leaning on his forearms to lean up towards you. “My wife… I’ve come to care deeply about her. She is a beautiful, elegant woman, one who has a fiery tongue about her and an intelligent brain that even I cannot rival. She always seems to get her way, even when I try to fight back. It’s as if my wife has a command over me that I have willingly submitted to. And I am not ashamed to say so.” He lightly caressed your arm, sending a trail of goosebumps up your skin.

“You must be careful, Mattheo,” you uttered. “That sounds an awful lot like love.”

Mattheo brought his eyes up to meet yours, the sting of tears building up behind them. His voice cracked as he said, “that’s the first time you’ve called me by my name, Y/n.”

Your lips parted in shock. “I- I didn’t realise. I’m sorry-”

“Don’t you dare apologise,” Mattheo demanded before reaching up to pull you into a kiss.

His lips were soft and meaningful against yours, hungrily trying to gather every ounce of love from you. His kisses were feverish at first, his strong hand coming up to cup your jawline, his fingers just teasing behind your ear, before his lips slowed. Mattheo was a starved man and he wouldn’t let anyone take away his only solace. He shifted so he could be closer to you, gently taking the book from your hands as you surrendered yourself to him. Your hands found his silk shirt, gripping it in your fists. He placed the book on the nightstand and moved so he was hovering over you, never once letting a second go by without feeling your skin against his.

Mattheo slowly, achingly pulled away from you and his eyes fluttered open to meet yours. “My darling, my love, my life,” he murmured, dragging a knuckle down your cheek. “I apologise for everything I have ever done or said that made you feel inferior. I would be happy to kneel for you in front of my associates and family members - just to show them how much power you have over me.” He took a breath before persisting, “I was foolish. I was incompetent. I didn’t realise how much love I held for you. It is, and always will be, only you. I will promise you this: you will be the only woman I ever touch, the only voice I ever want to hear, the only skin I will ever caress, and the only eyes I ever want to see. I will wake and fall, every morning and night, thinking of you. You are the other half of my heart, for it is you who I love. I will place the galaxies and stars in the night sky for you. If you are ever unhappy, my love, I will not rest until I see you smile again. If you are ever mad, my love, I shall smite whatever upsets you, even if it is I. And I would die a happy man if you could give me only an ounce of what I give you.”

Your breath shook and you swore Mattheo had injected ambrosia into your veins for you were sure your blood was singing with the love that was filling your soul. “I wrote a letter to your mother today,” you offered quietly, as if your mere words could ever compare to the love poem Mattheo had just gifted to you. “And I thanked her.” Mattheo’s eyes flashed with confusion. You continued, “I thanked her for birthing such a wonderful husband and for raising him. I know you u wish to renounce your family, but as of now, I want to thank them with all my heart. Mattheo, I love you.”

“And I you,” Mattheo whispered, bringing his forehead down to rest on yours. His nose bumped against your cheek and he couldn’t contain his grin anymore. “How did I ever get so lucky?” he mumbled.

You laughed lightly. “Luck? Fate?”

Mattheo shook his head and his nose brushed light curves over your skin. “No, my wife. Simply love. Pure, unconditional love.”

***

The house was bright, the curtains pulled as far open as they could be. Some servants scuttled around, holding laundry or preparing for dinner. Meanwhile, Mattheo strode leisurely through the halls, smiling lovingly as his nephews chased each other through the halls. “What do I say, boys?” he called after them.

“Have fun, be safe, and don’t get caught!” they yelled back before running around a corner.

Enzo jogged after them and grumbled to Mattheo, “it’s not your duty to rule them up.”

“As their favourite uncle, yes, it is.”

“Your wife is in Andromeda’s room,” Enzo told his brother before sprinting off after his sons. Enzo wasn’t usually at Riddle Manor, but today was a special day. It was Orion’s birthday.

Mattheo chuckled to himself before Orion raced up the steps, panting. “Papa! Papa!”

Mattheo grinned widely and scooped Orion up. “Are you alright, hm? What’ve you been up to?”

“Aunt Pansy’s carriage just pulled up!” Orion bounced in Mattheo’s arms, beaming.

“And you’re not even dressed,” Mattheo stared at Orion, pretending to be stunned. “Where’s your mother, Ori?”

“She’s helping Andy get dressed,” Orion announced. Mattheo nodded and carried his son to his daughter’s room. “Mum!” Orion cried out, seeing Y/n standing behind Andromeda, knotting her hair into a braid.

“Oh, my darling,” Y/n tied Andy’s hair up before crossing to Mattheo and taking Orion from his arms. “Are you excited for your birthday?”

Orion hummed excitedly and wiggled down from Y/n’s arms. He darted to Andromeda and wrapped himself around her in a tight hug. Andromeda grumbled, but allowed him to cling to her as she finished her hair and rouge.

Mattheo took Y/n’s hand and pulled her back toward him, nudging his nose against hers. “Look at that,” he murmured, reaching down to play with the silver and green ring on your finger. “Mine.” He pressed a kiss to your temple. Slowly, as to not arouse suspicion from your children, he backed you up and caged you against the wall in his arms. “Seven years with you and two beautiful children to show for it.”

“Hey, mum? Where’s my- eugh!” Andromeda turned around and reeled back from the scene in front of her. “For the love of Salazar, please get a room!”

“We are in a room.” Mattheo smirked, glancing up from the crook of your neck.

“Aren’t you two, if I'm doing my calculations correctly, nearing thirty years old?” Andromeda tsked and rolled her eyes.

“You believe that simply because we’re getting older, I’m going to stop loving your mother?” Mattheo chuckled before pressing a light kiss to your jawline.

You shivered and tucked your face into your husband’s chest. “Matty, spare the poor children,” you chastised lightly. “What do you need, darling?” you turned towards Andromeda.

“You used to call me that,” Mattheo whined. He stepped back from you, letting you out of his embrace.

Andromeda sighed and asked, “where is my white shawl? It’ll go well with the dress I’m planning to wear to Orion’s party.”

“Why does it matter what you wear to Orion’s party?” Mattheo asked, puzzled.

“Because Albus Potter is going to be here,” you said as if it were obvious.

“Harry Potter’s son?” Mattheo asked incredulously. “That scumbag?”

Both you and Andromeda ignored Mattheo and Orion left the room at the sound of Aunt Pansy entering the foyer and shouting out for her favourite nephew.

“Your shawl should be in the library,” you answered. “Ori was using it as a blanket yesterday.”

Andromeda sighed and turned towards the door. “He needs to stop taking my things. Just last week he stole my candelabra so he could read in the dark. Perhaps you should accelerate his schooling. He’s getting bored, you know.”

“We’ll raise our own son, thank you, Andromeda,” Mattheo raised a brow. Andy huffed and and flicked her dress out behind her dramatically, exiting the room. Mattheo turned to you and said, “they get that from you. The love of reading.”

“Yes, but they get their flair for the dramatics from you. And lest us not forget, you keep fuelling our love of literature by buying more books and expanding our library,” you countered.

Mattheo hummed. “‘Tis true. But how could I live without spoiling my wife and children?” He whirled you around in his arms and pressed a long kiss to your lips. “Speaking of children, what would you think of expanding our family?”

You let out a laugh. “You simply like the act of making a bigger family.”

“I love my children too,” Mattheo defended.

You reached up and brushed some of his hair away from his face. “Yes you do,” you smiled up at him. “You love your family very much.”

“Always.”

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 6 months

Text

Another

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader

Requested by anonymous

Synopsis: You go with your brothers to a bar, but things turn sideways when a stranger won’t leave you alone.

Warnings: creepy guy, scared reader, protective Sam and Dean

Another hunt. Another town. Another bar.

After you guys had moved into the bunker, some stupid, stupid part of you thought that maybe some things would change. But some things would always be the same.

You didn’t mind the hunting, you really didn’t. You didn’t want to do it, and you wished your brothers had a safer life, but you understood at least. They helped people, and that was everything.

But you hated this; being in a town full of strangers in a bar full of people much older than you, huddling in a corner waiting for your big brothers. There was nothing like not belonging while being surrounded by drunk, adult strangers.

Usually, the adults would stare at you like you were an alien for a moment or two, then ignore you. Young teens weren’t common in bars, but it wasn’t interesting enough to keep them from their good times.

This time, something was different. A man near the bar had been staring at you ever since you walked in the door. You had even gone to the other side of the bar to avoid him, but he followed. He hadn’t approached you, but he wouldn’t stop staring. Since he’d yet to go near you, you didn’t see a reason to bother Sam and Dean about it.

But he was starting to freak you out, so you found yourself trying to locate Sam or Dean in the crowded bar.

“Hey.”

You were so distracted looking for your brothers that you hadn’t seen the man approaching.

“Name’s Greg,” he greeted.

“Hi,” you muttered, still glancing around for Sam and Dean.

“What’s a sweetheart like you doing here alone?” Greg asked in a sickeningly sweet voice.

“‘M not—“ You were squirming in your seat now, and Sam and Dean were nowhere to be seen. “—not alone.”

“Now don’t be nervous.” Greg took the seat next to you and scooted it closer so that his knee was touching yours. You tried to scoot back, but you chair was already against the wall. You couldn’t go back, and Greg was angled in such a way that if you got up, he was blocking any easy exit.

“I have to find my brothers,” you said, deciding to risk it and stand up, attempting to squirm past the man.

Your whole body stiffened as though someone had dropped an ice cube down your back. Greg, still sitting in his own chair, and grabbed your leg right above your knee when you stood. His fingers were curled, gripping you much too tightly.

“Hey now,” he said, trying to keep up the sweet tone but sounding annoyed. “No need to rush off.” His fingers slackened their grip, but once he let go he stood, towering over you much too closely. And then the hand that was on your knee was on your shoulder, his fingers digging into the sensitive skin near your neck.

“I-I have to—“ your voice caught in your throat when his grip tightened painfully.

“No you don’t,” he all but commanded. “Just stay right here with me, nobody’s gonna miss you.” He shifted forward until all you could see was him. Your back was up against the wall; you had nowhere to go.

“Please don’t—“

“Hey!”

As soon as Greg had appeared, he was gone, and in his place stood the men you’d been so desperate to find.

Dean was shoving Greg toward the exit, and Sam was right there with him until you called out for him.

Sam turned hesitantly, leaving Dean to deal with the creep as he rushed to you and began to examine you.

“Did he hurt you?” Sam demanded.

You shook your head even as you rubbed your sore shoulder. This didn’t go unnoticed by Sam, who pulled aside your sleeve just enough to see the bruises already forming near your neck. His jaw ticked, and he turned to go after Greg, but you grabbed onto his sleeve to keep him near you.

“Don’t go,” you pleaded, and he relented immediately. The moment his arms wrapped around your shoulders, you all but melted into him. The adrenaline that had been pumping through your veins since the moment the man laid his hands on you now felt like a foreign substance pulsing in you, clogging your lungs and burning your eyes and making your knees weak. Your big brother held your weight up effortlessly, rubbing your back and breathing with exaggerated slowness as an example for you to slow your own ragged, racing breaths.

“You’re ok, you’re ok,” he breathed over and over again. “You’re safe now, I’ve got you.”

“Hey.” Dean’s voice had you peaking out from the safety of Sam’s arms. He was standing next to you now, his knuckles suspiciously bruised and bloodied. “Hey, you ok sweetheart?”

You nodded weakly, still resting against Sam. Dean pulled his jacket off and draped it against your shaking shoulders, and the familiar weight and scent washed over you and seemed to abate the adrenaline in your system, at least a little. You took a slow, deep breath that matched Sam’s.

“Let’s get you to the Impala, ok?” Sam suggested gently. You nodded, and Sam kept his arm around your shoulder as the brothers ushered you out. There wasn’t a moment when you weren’t completely surrounded by their protective presence.

Sam guided you into the back of the Impala before joining Dean in the front seats.

Dean glanced back at you every few seconds in the rearview mirror.

“How’s it going back there?”

“‘M ok,” you mumbled, and Dean’s eyebrows curved downward as his mouth retreated into a thin line.

“Ok,” he sighed, and you knew he didn’t believe you.

It didn’t take long to reach the motel, and once the three of you were settled inside Sam spoke again.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head quickly, bringing your legs up to your chest and hugging your knees.

“I’m fine,” you said shakily. “He just—he got a little pushy…and grabby.”

“Grabby?” Dean gritted his teeth. “I knew I should’ve hit him harder.”

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” you sighed.

“Ok, ok.” Dean rubbed his face. “I’m sorry.”

“This isn’t your fault,” you said quickly. “It’s not—it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Yes it is,” Dean insisted. “And it’s not going to happen again. Either me or Sam is gonna be with you next time, we’re not gonna leave you alone again, ok?”

You nodded. “Ok, that…that sounds good. In case there’s another time.”

“There’s not gonna be another time,” Sam said, pulling you into his arms. “We’re gonna be there. Always.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale

#dean winchester #the winchesters #dean and sam #dean winchester x reader #supernatural dean #dean winchester x you #winchesters x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #winchesters x sister #sam winchester x sister!reader #spn sam winchester #dean winchester x little sister!reader #dean winchester x sister #dean winchester x sister!reader

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bectoshi · 2 months

Text

between evergreens - rintaro suna

dedicated to @kitasuno <3 !!

“so when do you think they’ll figure it out?” he asks you tonight, amidst the stillness of the surrounding woodland.

because for every summer without fail, the two of you find yourselves in the same place as always.

all too familiar to you was the site of the summer camp you both can’t stay away from. where the woods were thick and the stars shone bright at night.

where everyone knew that you and a certain suna rintarou hated one another’s guts.

you’ll both know to deny the accusations each time your respective campers ask why it was so, dismissals of “us? we’re adults, we have no reason to hate one another” and “we’re merely coworkers, it’s just work.”

no matter what was said, your bluffs meant nothing to the campers, because how could they think otherwise when they bore witness to your daily interactions?

there was the way you took turns mocking one another during rounds of charades, the way beach volleyball always became a game of “how many times can y/n hit suna with the ball”, or the way you would come out of a paintball game covered head to toe in nothing but the other’s paint color.

not to mention your screams of “eat shit, loser!” on days when you ran the canoes, having done what you knew best, turning the group lake activity into a 1v1 race.

but between the two of you, the tall evergreens that are now surrounding you, and the tranquil glow of the campfire, you both didn’t have a single ounce of loathing for the other.

the campers knew you both as that one dynamic pair of counselors who were constantly at each other’s throats. you knew one another as the person your souls are forever tied to; the one who your hearts belonged to.

no one else knew that he never let you touch a single trash bag or dirty dish when paired together for kitchen duty, that he leaves the comfort of his bunk at unruly hours of the night just because you called and needed a spider killed, or that your water bottle was always full with iced water-even if said water came from his own water bottle. those moments would only belong to you.

so now when he asks you, “so when do you think they’ll find out?” you hum as you think of a response.

the whole camp was asleep in their cabins yet here you were, huddled in front of the dying fire that only an hour ago was burning bright as everyone sang and clapped along to the songs of the evening.

you eventually let out a soft laugh, “i don’t think they ever will, maybe we’re too good at this pretending thing.”

“you think so? i thought for sure they’d finally put the pieces together when we came to the luau theme night wearing these, out of all things.” he gestured down to his unbuttoned floral shirt, whose matching twin was currently being worn by you.

“definitely not. our hard launch was nothing but a failure. we have no choice but to commit to the bit,” you smile and look at his face, illuminated only by moonlight and fading flames, “you’re stuck with me rin, we’ll just have to be secretly in love forever now.”

he returns your smile, “i wouldn’t hate that.”

#suna x reader #suna fluff #suna rintarou #suna rintaro #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintaro haikyuu #suna rintaro fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu fluff #hq x reader #hq fluff #suna oneshot #suna #haikyuu #haikyu #suna x gn!reader #suna x female reader

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k-tarotz · 2 months

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Would You Have A Chance With Your Celebrity Crush? | PAC

Pile One Pile Two Pile Three

Pile Four Pile Five Pile Six

have you ever wondered about whether or not you could pull your celebrity crush? like would you be able to do it? well I am here to tell you if you could or not! it can be an alive person.. or not. someone that lived recently… or not. it’s fully your business! please just keep in mind that this is for fun, it’s absolutely not the set in stone truth and the outcome can definitely change overnight for so many reasons. look at this as the current energy beautiful sweetheart 🫶🏻 having a crush on a celebrity is ok, it’s the unhealthy boundaries that are not, please remember that!

🫐 paid readings

disclaimer: this is a reading made for fun, if you take it seriously don’t participate in it. this includes both if you genuinely believe this is a sign or could impact your mental health in a negative way and/or if you are allergic to joy and fun. period.

Pile One

would you have a chance with your celebrity crush?

🎲 : two of swords reversed, queen of wands reversed, the empress, the emperor

YOU LIKE OLDER PEOPLE 🫵🏻 I am joking, of course, but this is definitely an age gap relationship. You could be older too, but the majority of people choosing this pile is younger! So if that’s not your thing, you can choose another pile if you wish to 🫶🏻

Although, I would like to state that for some of you this age gap is under 10, you are just self conscious about it because it’s not something that you are necessarily used to.

If you are an adult over 20 the answer is: Yes! Yes you would. Not because of your age of course, but you are literally their perfect match. Come on, you got the Empress next to the Emperor! Personally, I never get these two together from what I can remember so in my eyes this is INCREDIBLE!!! Do you know the song “can somebody match my freak, somebody with a freak technique?” that’s you two. I do not think you are freaks though lol This pile radiates a very wholesome and cute energy, some of you classy even for sure. A very beautiful energy. It’s like those couples in movies you see that just seem perfect for one another and it feels weird to see them not with each other. Like Marshall and Lily, or Gloria and Jay! It’s like people don’t expect you two work together but you do, better than some couples who look like they were made for one another. It’s very cute in my eyes for sure 💔

If you are a minor, there are two possibilities so please choose whichever fits you.

If you are significantly younger: NO. I am (not) sorry to tell you this, but your celebrity crush is not a creep. Matter of fact, I can feel their energy being disgusted at the thought of dating a minor/someone much younger than them. Don’t get me wrong, there are definitely gross adults who are attracted to minors. It’s just not them. They are attracted to people their age and older than them. [If you are in your early twenties crushing on a grown adult like 40+ years they could possibly hate the idea of dating someone significantly younger due to having a relative around your age, which makes seeing you as a child.]

If you are younger only by 2-3 years: NO. At least, not yet. Say you are 16 and they are 18. Right now? Hell no. When they are 24 and you are like 22? Sure, they don’t care. It’s the mental state you two are in, and the life experiences, you know? It’s important to them. They do think a 2 year age gap is important in childhood, not necessarily in adulthood.

what causes this outcome?

🎲 : queen of pentacles, ten of coins, queen of coins, four of coins

if you got a yes - you! you cause this outcome! you are wonderful, so they just can’t help but fall for you. they are magnetically pulled to you because of how attractive and interesting they find you.

if you got a no - I think it’s pretty clear but they look at you as a child. they are the kind of person who likes to protect children from harm, not put them in danger.

channeled song: teacher’s pet - melanie martinez (I do not like her, it’s just your energy)

things that might be relevant: snow white (?), darari - treasure, ‘cutie patootie’, pink plush (a pig?), silly cat plushies / figures, japan scenery, one in a billion - enhypen (someone here likes heeseung lol), butterflies (yellow and white), religious, 00s rnb, nose sensitivity (nosebleeds, hay fever ect), midnight train to georgia (?), purity, coloured rose petals 🥴🫶🏻🧚🏻‍♂️🧚‍♀️🪽🌺☃️

Pile Two

would you have a chance with your celebrity crush?

🎲 : eight of pentacles reversed, king of wands reversed, the queen of swords reversed, the chariot side ways under the kow & qos

No, but there doesn’t seem to be a negative energy here. You are just not their kind of person. Not their romantic type, not their ‘friend type’. Rather than this being malicious, it’s disinterested. Definitely not private, but they don’t seem to be interested in a connection with you. I am sorry that sounds harsh, but there is really not much to it.

I wish I could make this as long as pile two’s, but their energy genuinely seems disinterested. As if their higher self doesn’t even care to elaborate. It’s like they have better things to focus on in life? They don’t seem too interested in romance as a whole. Rather tired and exhausted, and just want to focus on work. I am definitely not saying this is healthy though, because something here seems to impact their social life quite a lot.

Yet, they still seem very very kind, it’s like they aren’t interested in romance but if you approach them in a friendly manner they will make sure to be kind to you even if they might be a bit awkward. In a very charming way though. They will make sure you are comfortable and feel safe though.

Their energy is not malicious or mean by any chance, I think my explanation was just a bit too straightforward. They genuinely seem like such a sweetheart, with a bit of sadness surrounding them. That can definitely impact them currently, as it seems like a constant thing in regards of their mood as of now. I hope they can heal, truly. 🫶🏻

what causes this outcome?

🎲 : judgement, six of pentacles, the moon, seven of swords, ace of swords reversed, the lovers

Multiple reasons! However, you need to take only what resonates and what you think is right. One of the reasons is; that you are simply not their type. They don’t want to waste your time and get your hopes up high, that would be like playing with your feelings. Which they definitely not want to do at all.

However, that’s only halfish of the pile. The rest.. Your celebrity crush is simply not interested in romantic or sexual relations. They are aro, ace or aroace. Of course, aroace means little to no interest in romantic and sexual relationships, but theirs pull towards no. In order for this to “change” they have to like you a lot. Which is not impossible, but that’s like three people in this pile only. That’s why I didn’t feel the need to put a yes in the previous section.

channeled song: around the world - ATC

things that might be relevant: mr chu by apink, ph balance lipstick, bows in hair, white sweater, cherry pie, phone case, weird phonecases (?), gel nail art, ‘don’t you know how sweet it tastes’, edits on tiktok, puppies, upset, mascara (mot waterproof), colours brown and beige, gem stones, angel aesthetic ☪️✝️↪️📯🛍️🪭

Pile Three

would you have a chance with your celebrity crush?

🎲 : ace of cups, knight of swords reversed, two of swords side ways, nine of coins reversed, justice reversed

Yes, but only because they are sexually attracted to you, quite a lot. It’s like, they wouldn’t mind to date you but they definitely wouldn’t expect it to be a long lasting relationship.

It definitely doesn’t seem like a lovely dovey crush like feeling. Rather one where they could be very attracted to your body. If you are not the same race/ethnicity, that definitely ads to it. Though it doesn’t seem like they would be sad if you reject them, they would respect your wishes and move on, they aren’t a forceful type of person. If one night stands are not your thing they can definitely respect that.

It’s not like they are an asshole but I do assume their preferences in regards of sexual and romantic relationships highly differ from yours. It’s like you are cute, lovely and they find you lovable but more in a friendly manner in a way they adore you. The sexual attraction is just something they cannot deny.

what causes this outcome?

🎲 : the devil, the moon, ace of swords, knight of wands

I will be honest with you sweetheart, they like their youth and that they can get whoever they want. Of course, that’s not true. However in their mind they can, because they know how to use their charm to the max and don’t take failures to the heart but rather as a way to acknowledge differences. “ No hard feelings “ definitely describes them very well.

They prefer to be single and rather get rid of their sexual urges whenever they can with people that are similar minded to them… Basically, hook up culture. Not a player, definitely bit of a pervert though.

channeled song: party for the night - gray / drive - jay park ft gray

things that might be relevant: panda, teddy bear, laugh (you might like theirs), wanda vision, the colour red, sharks, blue, kcon, fan service, video calls, stickers, dyi, disappointed (as in, someone in this pile could be disappointed), acrylic paint 🧊🍿🍷🌟❄️🌈

Pile Four

would you have a chance with your celebrity crush?

🎲 : ten of cups, the lovers, judgement, the world, eight of cups reversed, knight of cups

Yes, because they are a family oriented person! They definitely want to get married to the love of their life, their soulmate. Someone who has the same goal as them and can see where their desires are coming from. They don’t see any desire in short relationships or giving their time, body, attention and love to someone that they don’t think deserves it. Someone that only likes shallow relationships or ones without a stable foundation are not for this person. They want someone incredibly committed and loyal who knows what they want. I also do believe that putting family before anything is important to them. As in, the one they create with their chosen one. Nothing is more important to them, so with that heart they wouldn’t like to be with someone that puts work before their family. I would use the word hate, but that might be too much, although at times they do feel that way.

Either way, they judge each of their romantic interests based on their standards. If they notice that their goals don’t align with one another’s they immediately lose interest. It’s the feeling of “I would rather wait lifetimes than be with someone that doesn’t truly love and value me” sort of mindset. Good for them tbh, slay

what causes this outcome?

🎲 : justice reversed, nine of coins reversed, the hierophant reversed, ten of swords

Well, I will be honest here. Some of you downright force yourselves to have the same life goals as your celebrity crush. “ If ____ asks me to I will do it willingly!!! “. The thing is though, you know that’s not the life style you want, but you would still force yourself to be happy and content with it just because you love your person too much. That’s why it would work out, because of your consistent effort. It’s not really worth it tho, don’t give yourself up for anybody, you are worth much more.

That’s only for SOME people reading it. If the shoe doesn’t fit you, don’t wear it. Majority of people who chose this pile have the exact same mindset and would make an insanely lovely couple with their chosen one! You also seem to have the same mindset, hobbies, interests and appreciation for things in life. Honestly very compatible! You could possibly have zodiac signs that are also a good pair.

channeled song: brought the heat back - enhypen

things that might be relevant: golfing, heart and stars, xoxo (hugs and kisses), the colour red, giggles, vampire fangs, little ducklings, bunnies, flowers, cafes, crystal clear water, ice, oranges, animals, birds, teardrop, lock, fan 🥛🍼🩰🎸⛸️🛩️

Pile Five

would you have a chance with your celebrity crush?

🎲 : the hermit reversed, two of cups justice, the wheel of fortune reversed, justice

No, you two are simply way too different from one another. Which I believe, you are aware of too. Surprisingly though, you are not the one that would be rejected. You would reject your celebrity crush because I do believe that if you were to know their true nature you would be turned off. So if they make their moves on you; you would just not care and walk away.

Slay, value yourself pretty sweetheart 🫶🏻

what causes this outcome?

🎲 : queen of cups, three, temperance reversed, six of cups reversed

As I have mentioned already, it’s definitely you being turned off by them, getting the ick. Their real personality could very much heavily be different from what they present themselves to be which would make you lose all interest in them for sure. Not because of the person they are, but you must definitely hate lying and people who put on a fake persona. Although, you don’t find their real personality charming as well? They could for sure enjoy flirting with people and making as many experiences as possible, which is not like you. I don’t feel heavy judgement from you, but your energy feels like ‘if I would have known the true you then I wouldn’t have wasted time/energy’ you know? It’s like you are polar opposites.. Two different ends of two different coins. They could also like alcohol more than necessary, which could be a huge no for some people in this pile due to bad experiences in the past. Which is a completely valid point! 🫶🏻

channeled song: million dollar baby - tommy richman

things that might be relevant: trillion, beauty spots, red nails (navy blue & baby blue.. some whites & glitter?), hair strokes (pda), naps, heavy metal (?), broken glass, transparent vases, rubik’s cube, franz kafka (the author), calligraphy pen 🌃☎️⏳🔭📈💥

Pile Six

would you have a chance with your celebrity crush?

🎲 : justice, eight of swords, ace of cups, the lovers

Yes, and you better believe it! Okay, wow, that sounds a bit bad, but I mean it. If you were in a situation where you two were to spend time together, you would have a chance, your romance would just be slow burn. Which, I think is perfectly alright! Although, it might make you a bit sad at first, perhaps more insecure although there is nothing you need to be insecure about. You are beautiful from inside and out!

It’s like you guys would be friends, then sexual attraction would set in and then y’all would be having romantic feelings for one another. The sort of relationship where y’all sleep together, so now you guys are automatically dating lol It’s very sweet and pure, really.

what causes this outcome?

🎲 : five of wands, two of wands reversed, the emperor, six of coins

They are simply not the sort of person to rush into any kind of relationship! Not even when having crushes, they rather would become friends with them to see the type of person they are before making moves. They would also only make moves if they can see that the feelings are mutual, so honestly they are just a rather careful person.

Your feelings would be there from the start while theirs would slowly develop, ya know? It’s like you fell first, they fell harder.

That’s for sure 1000%

Your charms got to them, not just a bit. They like how intense your emotions can get, and how cute you are. They like it because you don’t try to be cute, but rather you just naturally are cute. It’s certainly very adorable to them, it makes them more interested in you. Bit by bit they would fall for you. (Or rather walk in love, they are in no rush.)

channeled song: perfect - ed sheeran

things that might be relevant: potatoes (??), vines, 2nd gen ggs, ‘yayaya’ (x.o by enha / cake by the ocean - joe jonas), pastry, slice of life anime, tiramisu (cake~ tiramisu cake~), red ribbons / red string of fate, black choker, ‘hallelujah’ (like the song), horror movies, starry nights, camping, E, Anne with an e, attack on titan, the sun ♌️⚽️🎟️🏅🗽🏖️

💭 This was fun to make but also a bit challenging 💔 Regardless, I hope everyone enjoyed it, even if they didn’t necessarily liked their result.

– Candy 🍬

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thisapplepielife · 2 months

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Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

Stayin' Alive

Day #17 - "This One's For You" | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie, Mention of Pre-Robin/Vickie | Tags: Post S4, But Eddie Lives, But Is Still Recovering, Getting Together, First Kiss, The Band Has a Surprise For Eddie at The Hideout, Steve Harrington Just Wants To Help, Henderson Too

Eddie didn't want to go, didn't want to be paraded anywhere in this town, not after the whole wrongly accused of a grizzly murder or three, saga. But the band was insistent that he come out tonight, and if he has to show his face somewhere in Hawkins, The Hideout isn't the worst place to be, he supposes. At least a few of the regulars here know him well enough to not expect him to skin them alive after the first set.

"You comfortable? Need anything? A drink?" Henderson asks in quick succession, hovering around, squirming, like it's his first time in the place. Come to think of it, it probably is.

"Henderson, just calm down. It's a bar, not Babylon," Eddie says dryly, and Dustin slumps in his chair.

"Just trying to help," Dustin says, petulant. Sullen.

"What's the little asshole doing now?" Steve asks, sprawling himself into the seat on the other side of Eddie.

Oh, thank god. Another adult.

"Thinks he's gonna be corrupted," Eddie answers, "Glad you made it, Harrington."

"Robin's still coming, but she's still trying to get Vickie to come with, but she's too scared to ask. So, that's not, you know, working out so well for her. Vickie's not all mind read-y, last I checked," Steve says, stretching his arm behind Eddie's chair, resting it lightly against his shoulders.

Eddie tries not to lean into the touch. Has to remind himself that Steve's just being friendly, and has been that way, since they got out of the Upside Down. All through his stay in the hospital, and rehab, and the weeks, months, spent at home, just trying to regain his strength and sense of normalcy.

Steve's been there, too close, too invested, and Eddie's dealt with it.

But tonight, here they are, out in public, and Steve's acting the same way.

Eddie kind of hates it.

Kind of loves it, too.

Steve is absentmindedly running his fingertips up and down Eddie's shoulder as he talks, and Eddie's not hearing a word he's saying. His whole body dialed in on those little movements, as Steve's brushing his t-shirt, ruffling the soft cotton against his skin.

He wants to lean in. He wants to lean away.

Mainly, he wants to run.

But that's definitely not an option, running isn't in the cards, not yet. Maybe not ever, so he's stuck here. Wedged between the nervous bundle of energy that is Dustin Henderson and the lazy relaxation of Steve Harrington.

It's hell. Pure hell.

They sit through the first two bands that aren't very good, and by the time Corroded Coffin is set to take the stage, Eddie's already exhausted. He feels eighty instead of twenty, but he's had a hard time bouncing back. Everything feels harder, and worse, and he'd really rather just be home in his bed, or chair, left alone.

Well, except for Steve and Henderson. And Wayne. None of them give him a moment's peace. They are a tag-team of mother hens, and Eddie's certain they have an internal schedule that never leaves him alone for longer than ten minutes. When Wayne or Dustin or Steve aren't there, can't be for whatever reason, Gareth is. Or Jeff. Or Goodie. Maybe all three at once. Showing up like clockwork, some flimsy excuse for their sudden arrival.

He's being babysat. Hardcore.

The band is ready on stage, and it feels weird, seeing the three of them up there without him. He knows he's not out, he's just not able, not yet. Can't quite play the guitar as well as he used to, and definitely can't stand long enough to play a full set.

So he's here, in the crowd, watching. It's a special kind of torture, he thinks. Watching his own band go on without him. It's not permanent, at least Eddie hopes it's not, but still. Torture.

"This one's for you, Eddie," Jeff says, and Eddie's eyes lock on the stage.

Gareth clicks his sticks together, counting them in, and Goodie comes in with a smokin' bass line, and Gareth's riding his cymbals, and Eddie perks up in his seat. This isn't, no way…

And it is.

Jeff's falsetto is something, that's for damn sure.

This is Stayin' Alive.

And Eddie laughs, really laughs, for the first time in months. Since maybe before spring break, and Steve is looking at him, like he's in awe, Eddie can feel it. But he can't look away from the stage. From his friends.

They play some of their own songs, and some more covers, but that one had been for Eddie and Eddie alone.

After, the band crowds around, and Eddie is happy to have them nearby again. He's missed them, and when it's time to go, Eddie is pawned off onto Steve to take home.

Steve helps him into the car, putting the walker in the backseat, folded up and out of the way. Eddie hates it. Hates everything about being laid up, still hurt, still weak.

"Everything good?" Steve asks, looking in his direction and Eddie nods. He's as comfortable as he's ever gonna be, at least, unmedicated.

"Yeah, I'm good."

"I'm glad you came out tonight," Steve says, looking in his direction, smiling, "I was worried Dustin wouldn't get you here."

"You don't have to worry about me, Harrington," Eddie says, and that just makes Steve smile harder for some reason.

"I'm always worried about you, Eddie," Steve says, and that can't possibly be true, and Eddie laughs.

Steve looks so fucking earnest, "Really. I'm happy you're here tonight. I'm happy you're anywhere tonight."

"Quit flirting with me, Harrington," Eddie teases, and it's funny for the brief second before Steve's face falls.

Shit.

No fucking way.

Eddie reaches out, leans over, snagging Steve's hand, "You're flirting with me?"

Steve kind of shrugs his shoulders, in the most non-committal way, but his face tells all his secrets.

"Steve?"

"A little. If you're not interested, if I'm-"

Eddie cuts him off, crushing their lips together.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

#corrodedcoffinfest #prompt seventeen: this one's for you #gareth stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #jeff stranger things #goodie (unnamed freak) stranger things #freak stranger things #dustin henderson #corroded coffin fic #steddie fic #steddie #ccf day seventeen: this one's for you #thisapplepielife: corrodedcoffinfest #thisapplepielife: short fic

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kooki914 · 15 days

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Nobody asked and yet you're getting it anyway, my Dess interpretation! Tbf I love a lot of other people's Dess designs maybe more than my own based on complexity/symbology alone, but this is what my original take for her was so I'm sticking to it. Extremely long list of factoids for her under the cut!

Dess hasn't seen a hairbrush in 8 years.

Opening her first fountain was an accident, and so was entering the dark world, but it was something she desperately needed at that point. She was knighted by Spade King, before being dubbed the Roaring Knight by the general public after she opened the second fountain and people started (correctly) assuming she was trying to cause the apocalypse.

Dess is mtf trans! She was out since she was 9, and took puberty blockers for a while, but stopped after she disappeared because she, y'know, didn't have access to them anymore. Strangely, even though she's been off of them for so long, there's very few side effects. You can just see her Adam's apple sometimes and muscle mass started building for her easily, but that's it. She's silently grateful that her dad didn't pass down any beard-making genes.

The reason why it's been so mild is due in part because of the effect of being in the "void" for too long, aka the space so dark and isolated you can't even feel your own limbs. She was stuck in the code of the game, basically, and it's had adverse effects on her mentally and physically, the only positive effect being less testosterone production in her body.

The physical effects are odd. Though she's grown and her body's age is what it would've been if she never disappeared, she's still in the same clothes she was when she ran away, but they sized up with her. The black nail polish she had on is still there too, not even chipped. As previously mentioned, her hormones are out of whack but, somehow, she's still clearly a grown adult, as if she just went through a very, very mild puberty.

The mental effects of being stranded in the literal nothingness are as expected as they are odd. The standard effects of not having contact with another person for so long have, somehow, never taken hold. It's like the social part of her brain was just put on pause. However, part of the madness she DID get was her very much considering her memories might just be made up. As if she was always here and managed to, somehow, delude herself into thinking she had a life outside of this place, when she never did. Essentially, she stopped existing, but retained some level of consciousness.

The whole "not existing for a while" thing as well as the fact that she's pre-hrt trans means she absolutely hates mirrors. Give her a mirror and she'll give back about a hundred shards of it. When she was younger she usually just had dysphoria over looking too boyish (hence why she never cut her hair) but nowadays she has weird feelings about something as simple as Having Knees (the existential horror of having a body after being formless in the nothingness during your formative years).

Her journey as the Knight was mostly about rediscovering herself, trying to find purpose and trying to help the people around her. She spent her whole life feeling helpless, and wanted to destroy that feeling, for everyone. Her violent behavior was rewarded by the equally maladjusted Spade King, and they teamed up under the pretense of helping all of darkner kind.

Dess set out to cause the Roaring, per his instruction, without knowing what it even was. All she knew is that, apparently, she was the only one who could, and that gave her a sense of purpose. Once she learned it'd bring about the end of the world, she was so detached from the world that she carried on anyway, not concerned with the life that could be lost because, god, she spent so long outside it, how COULD she know what life was worth now?

Dess went by neutral pronouns (they/it) as the Knight because it was another mask she used to distance what she Knew of herself and what she Had to be (kind of like Asriel calling himself "Flowey" in Undertale, actually). Being called "her" was too familiarising and humanising, being called "he" made her break out into hives and start killing, so she stuck with the alternatives for utilitarian reasons. Somewhere along the way she got sick of it and started missing her feminine pronouns, but decided to just stick to the bit anyway. The world was gonna end soon anyhow, who cares?

Once she's out of the role of Knight and back in the light world, you bet your ass she's switching back to exclusively she/her. Fuck neutrality, this girl needs gender affirmative language.

Rediscovering music, and specifically playing and making music, was one of the things that helped Dess get back in touch with being a person again after the whole Knight debacle. She plays piano and harmonica of her own volition, and the violin because of her mom's insistence, but her true favourite will always be the guitar. She was a little small as a kid so playing it used to be difficult, but now that she's an adult having it in her lap is easy, and honestly it just makes her feel alive. One of those dreams she had as a kid that she forgot about along the way, y'know?

Her and Asriel were just family friends at first, but when they ended up going to the same class together too, they quickly became best friends. They were there for each other through everything, Dess got Asriel into games, he was there when she came out, and they were practically inseparable. Asriel was a hard worker and Dess was a super active sports kid, they balanced each other out well and were known as the highest achievers in their class, the golden kids.

Kris and Noelle got dragged into their adventures basically on accident, Noelle because Dess was the one babysitting her all the time, and Kris because they wanted to spend time with their brother. They often spent time outside together because Dess loved being anywhere but at home. She didn't mind Azzy's house, though. Kris was a lot to deal with sometimes and Dess scolded them in a lot of the same ways adults scolded her (minus the hitting them over the head with stuff, what was all her). She has no idea the impact she's had on their behavior.

She was always kind of violent, but when she was younger it wasn't really an issue, more like an excuse to get her into sports. She learned to act out because causing problems was the only context in which she'd get attention from her very busy parents. With Noelle specifically, Dess took on a semi-parental role and quickly developed a habit of taking on way more burdens than she could handle. Even with Asriel as a best friend and the Dreemurrs as a surrogate family, the control her mother Clarice commanded over her life was just too limiting. It all boiled over.

Dess started lashing out at other kids around when puberty hit, starting fights and genuinely hurting people. She never got expelled because her mother was the mayor, but Dess started getting grounded more and more often, which meant less and less time with her only real friend, and more with her very dysfunctional family. She loved Noelle, but her little sister became another responsibility, another liability that could get Dess in trouble, it was way too much for her to handle maturely when she was only 13.

Dess "disappeared" because she ran away from home. She hated living there, but neither of her parents could admit that, hence her disappearance being so "mysterious" to the other townsfolk, they genuinely thought she vanished from inside the house. It was only after Kris admitted they saw her in the woods near the bunker that night that the case got more complicated, and the legend only grew more terrifying.

Her original plan was to just catch a bus to out of town and hope for the best, but when she ran into the woods in pitch blackness, she couldn't find her way around. She was too reliant on light, and couldn't manage in darkness. She found the bunker in her aimless wandering and, hoping to sleep off the night and make up excuses in the morning, she went inside. She couldn't have known that nothing was in there.

The effects of her sudden disappearance rippled throughout the whole town. Most obviously, Asgore got fired for not being able to find her and Rudy quit his job to be a stay at home dad for Noelle's sake. Less tangibly, Asriel and Clarice both started burying themselves in work to avoid grief. Kris and Noelle socially shut down for a few years, it's why neither of them have any real friends other than the strained relationship they have with each other. Asriel took on Dess' habit of "be anywhere but home" when his parents started having marital problems, and Kris latched onto him even harder to avoid losing any more people in their life. Through all this, Dess was nowhere, silently wondering if anyone even noticed she's gone, if her life was even real to begin with.

One of the strange things that happened to her while stranded in nothingness was almost being able to hear someone mumbling to themselves. When she called out, the voice vanished, only to re-emerge an uncertain amount of time later and excuse himself for getting startled. He just doesn't get guests often, you see. And guests get him even more rarely. It was refreshing to hear a consciousness separate from her own, but his mind was even more broken than hers, unable to answer her questions about what was real and what was imagined as he seemed to think he himself was a product of unreality. Plus, he never really stayed for too long and he never wanted to talk about himself either, as if mentioning his own name could shatter him to pieces.

The reason Dess didn't lose her mind from to his influence like Jevil and Spamton did was because she's just fundamentally pragmatic. You can throw philosophy and existential questions at her all you want but as long as she talks and thinks, she exists, which means reality is Something, even if it's completely eluding her grasp. It might also have something to do with her being a (homestuck warning) Void player, meaning the idea of the innate meaninglessness of life and unanswerable questions about reality itself don't really sound earth-shattering to her.

She used her knife to open fountains at first, the one she brought with her from the light world, but along the way she picked up a rapier and decided it was way cooler than a knife so it's her go-to now. She's not actually that good with swords, though. She uses them like baseball bats. Despite this, Spade King still praises her as if she's the best warrior they've seen in generations. It might've gone to her head.

Her relationship with King is fundamentally a mentor and a student. He gave her flawed information, but taught her a lot about herself, the world she found herself in, and the role she could choose. And, that's the most important part, he let her CHOOSE, because he was genuinely under the impression that she was just a really powerful darkner and not a lightner. His strictness and high standards reminded her of her parents, mostly her mom, but his willingness to give HER control over her own destiny is what made her favour him over every other adult in her life. Discipline that treated her like a valued person rather than an asset was basically unheard of for her until then. Plus, reminding her of her parents gave Spade the bonus of every time he encouraged her on anything it'd activate the "parental approval" neurons in her brain that were terribly starved up to that point.

From Spade's point of view, the Knight (as a darkner) is everything he wants to be, but can't be. At first he mentored her mostly as an excuse to live vicariously through her, but in getting to know her better he discovered they have a lot more in common than he first thought. Unregulated emotions, unresolved pasts, the constant feeling that you need to do More and Louder in order to make any kind of impact... he started to genuinely care about her. If/when he's redeemed, finding out the Knight has been a lightner this whole time might not even be that much of a betrayal. Seeing her face and learning her name as she apologies for lying is like reconnecting with his own wounded, younger self. Letting it be water under the bridge means he doesn't lose connection to himself again, doesn't lose connection with his best student. Plus, December IS a nice name.

She met Lancer, but didn't pay him much mind. She was busy with overthrowing the other Kings and was too tired to be a babysitter again. Due to her rancid vibes as the Knight (and the fact that she quickly became the favoured child even though it wasn't her intention) Lancer doesn't like her that much. She left Card Kingdom pretty quickly, anyway (Spade's advice to seek another worthy kingdom to grant a fountain to), so she never got much of a chance to get to know him, even if she wanted to.

Her relationship with Queen is even more fraught. Due to Queen's tendency to mimic the "mother" personality for every lightner she meets individually, as well as her more Explicitly Controlling tendencies, Dess quickly became rebellious and then antagonistic towards her. Queen tried to choose FOR her, to get her to open fountains on HER terms, and Dess wasn't having it. Yes, following Queen's instructions would've caused the Roaring much, MUCH sooner, but, like. Not at ALL in a satisfying way.

She has no idea who Gaster is. When asked, she'll assume he's a Darkner. If asked about the man in the nothingness, she'll shrug it off. Now that she's out, she doesn't know if he's actually real or something she just made up in her head, though she laughs that off as well. "I sound a lot like him when saying that, huh?"

Learning Asriel goes to college is complete whiplash for her. Her sense of time is WRECKED. Like, yeah, she can wrap her head around Noelle and Kris being teens now, but ASRIEL??? What do you MEAN he's not still stressing over chemistry exams and cramming for spanish class, and is, like, actually studying something he's interested in???? Unheard of.

She makes fun of him SO much for his little beard stubble, dude. It's all in good fun, but like, you can only be called "mini Asgore" so many times by your childhood best friend before it starts to cut deeper. On the flipside he has literally nothing bad to say to her. She nearly caused the apocalypse, but like, he gets it. He would've done the same in her shoes (hooves??). He thinks her Dark World armour is so kickass and he could never pull it off like she can.

Unsurprisingly Asriel has a crush on Dess. He always kinda had one, even when they were kids, but reconnecting as adults just Fully bashed him over the head with the fact that he's had repressed feelings for her and he has NO idea what to do about it. He's anxiety incarnate and thinks Dess already KNOWS he has a crush on her and just isn't saying anything because she's playing it cool, or doesn't wanna hurt his feelings, or thinks he's too lame to date or something. He thinks she's the coolest person who ever lived and has no idea how to cope.

Meanwhile in reality, Dess is a clueless aro/ace. She doesn't really know what having a crush even means. She thinks being a couple is, like, flirting and fighting behind closed doors (you can tell the only couples she knew personally were her parents and Asriel's parents), so she thinks it's just exhausting and doesn't know why anyone bothers. When Noelle tells her she has a crush on Susie Dess is like "Hell yeah, love is love........ wait do you mean you like her or you want her to crush you with a boulder" and Noelle sweats for a while before replying with "b-both?"

Dess has never been to Castletown. Most likely will never go.

Her and Kris reconnecting is a bit awkward at first, mostly on account of the fact that Kris and their posse are the ones that had her bash her over the head as the Knight to get her to behave in the first place, but Dess doesn't really focus on that. Kris thinks they hurt her, she just thinks of them as a little hero. Susie kinda helps facilitate them talking like people again, at least at first, because she has no baggage with Dess other than hitting her with an ax over dark fountains and getting stabbed in return, but like... Out of all the people they fought Dess is the only one who actually said sorry for being a jackass, so it's all good in Susie's book. Kris is just happy to have Dess back, man, that bunker and their memory of it has been haunting them for entirely too long, now.

Like Kris and Asriel, Dess learned how to play piano in church. Unlike them, and unlike Noelle, Dess has actually become fully agnostic after her time in the void. If there IS an angel looking out for her, it certainly isn't one that could've helped her, so what's the point of worship? Plus, Asriel and Noelle are two angels looking out for her as is! Why add divinity to that? (I am extremely subtle, I know.)

To this day, she's still apologising to Asgore for getting him fired. He is still apologising for not being able to find her. It's a pity party.

No-one tell her parents but she smokes weed. Once she reformed from being the Knight, she had a lot on her mind, man, weed is the most harmless thing she could've taken to cope. Seam is a good dealer, they have the good stuff.

She's absolutely called King "dad" by accident before. He doesn't really mind. No-one tell Rudy though, he's gonna be pissed.

On that note, I feel the need to add that she was never as close to him as Noelle was, because he only really started being an active parent after Dess went missing. It's kinda tragic, and he feels REALLY guilty about it, but if he ever verbalises that guilt he's gonna actually crumble into dust. His confidence is all a mask as is, actually admitting that he was kind of garbage at being a dad with his first kid is just gonna make it so much worse. But, until Dess hears an apology, she's not really gonna be able to actually mend their relationship, so they're at an impasse.

Inversely, her time away from the light world kinda made Dess forget the way her mother acts. She sorta got a bit of "once away from the abuser you forget the abuse", especially knowing she herself was a kid when it all happened so she kinda started justifying her mother's actions to herself when away from her. After like 2 weeks of living with her again Dess fully remembers why she ran away and packs her bags to live literally anywhere else. Preferably with King if that's an option, though that might just make Lancer move out as well.

She doesn't know what minecraft is.

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mrshesh · 1 year

Note

hi! do you have any general hcs for the cod:ghosts boys?

general headcanons - call of duty: ghost's

overview: general headcanons of the call of duty: ghost's boys!

pairing: none!

genre: fluff, pure tomfoolery

a/n: hi anon! i'm thrilled i finally got a request for these boys. i love them so much, it's getting a bit unhealthy. you're truly the best for requesting them! i hope you love it!

x logan walker

He sucks at puzzles. He’s smart and tactical, but puzzles are on another level of difficulty for him.

He likes doodling a lot. If he has a pen and a surface to draw on, he will sketch a small smiley or a caterpillar. It has become such a habit that he doesn’t even think about it when he does it. It got so bad that once, Keegan called him out on it mid-doodle, leaving Logan embarrassed for a week.

He loves the ocean, but beaches annoy him. He hates sand. (I firmly believe his hate for them is from Hesh throwing sand in his face as children.)

He has a picture of him and Hesh as kids in his wallet. He feels calmer when he looks at it, getting into the habit of peeking at it when stressed.

He’s an avid Deftones enjoyer. He loves Beware and Diamond Eyes.

He likes caramel-scented things, but he doesn’t like the taste of it.

He has some insane dirt on Elias, and, of course, Hesh knows all of it.

For some odd reason, he’s phenomenal at parallel parking.

x david "hesh" walker

He loves movies. He can watch any genre! Horror? Great! Action? Love. Romance? Cute! Comedy? Perfect! He loves it all. Shows, however? Nope.

He takes pride in his nails being clipped and filed at all times. He was a nailbiter in his teens, so he cares about his nails more than he should today.

He can’t cook to save his life.

Eminem is his go-to artist. He loves and respects many artists, but Eminem will always be at the top of his list. He loves Stan.

He’s respectful in general.

He’s extremely secure and confident, yet he’s still pretty nervous when he talks to girls.

He loves long car rides. Driving around in his car while listening to his favorite songs brings out a unique joy in him.

He, unlike Logan, loves beaches! (He wasn’t the one who got sand thrown on him, so he’s thriving.)

He hates coriander.

x elias "scarecrow" walker

Unlike his son, Elias is great at puzzles! He’s disappointed Logan didn’t inherit that quality. He mourns it every day.

He loves pickles. (Same.)

He manipulated himself into liking beer many years ago.

People call him DILF all the time. It has happened too many times to count. He finds it funny, while Hesh and Logan are horrified every time.

He doesn’t know how to put on chapstick. He puts it between his lips and swipes it back and forth, not on his lips.

He got so much action when he was a teenager/young adult. He tells Logan and Hesh to “live a little” so they can experience that life, too.

He doesn’t listen to music often, but when he does, he listens to either Korn or Chris Isaak.

He adores Riley, sometimes stealing him from Hesh without warning.

x keegan russ

He secretly enjoys ASMR. It helps him unwind and de-stress, but not sleep, surprisingly.

He’s excellent at the game Mafia.

He has made way too many people giggle excitedly because of his voice. He finds it amusing but disturbing at the same time. He knows it’s attractive, but that many people? He has even made Elias giggle like a schoolgirl because of his vocal folds.

Keegan strikes me as a Slipknot fan. He finds Killpop and Vermillion to be sexy.

He loves grocery shopping.

He talks to himself a lot. He’s antisocial and quiet around others, but when Keegan’s alone, he keeps having full-on conversations with himself. Merrick caught him doing it once - he never brought it up again.

He enjoys lasagna a bit too much.

He had a motorcycle phase as a young adult. It got so bad he learned how to do a wheelie on them, but his love for them has died down in the many years he’s been alive.

He thinks wine is gross.

x thomas merrick

He cannot stand bananas. Everything about them makes him gag.

He gets such a rise out of being a bitch. He’s already annoying by default but strives to be even more insufferable for the fuck of it.

He, Alex, and Keegan smoke while being sentimental together at least once a month. (It’s always with Keegan and Alex - Elias, David, and Logan get left out.)

He listens to underground metal like Sold Soul, and he thinks it makes him superior to everyone else. (And he gatekeeps it.)

He’s immune to pretty much all physical pain except for waxing. It’s enough to make him cry.

He loved trains as a child.

His comfort song is Toxicity by System Of A Down.

His appetite is insane. This man can eat a horse and still be hungry by the end of it.

His calves are huge for some reason.

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shalotttower · 10 months

Text

Permanence

Title: Permanence Fandom: Hunter x Hunter Summary: A simple evening at an art gallery turns into a daring decision to slip away from Chrollo's grasp. Word count: 2400+ Characters: Chrollo Lucilfer x Reader Notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, exploration of power dynamics, power imbalance.

Tonight you spend in the shower longer than you normally do. There're no tears, no, just exhaustion, both mental and physical that seems to be seeping into your bones deeper than ever. Waiting is the worst part. You don't know whether there will be any kind of consequences after the stunt you've pulled. You don't know if the extent of Chrollo's composure has stretched to anger - and that's after you've tried so hard to keep yourself from pushing him - or it's just annoyance. Which is not ideal, but workable.

It was supposed to be a nice, as much as it can be, evening. Just a walk through the gallery, a little bit of art admiration here, a little bit of talking there, maybe getting some dinner.

After the shower, you sit on the closed toilet lid, naked, and stare at the mirror that's still fogged from the steam. You don't like looking yourself in the eye lately, or rather what you see there. Fear doesn't become you. Neither does hopelessness. Your reflection seems foreign, unrecognizable at times when it should be familiar and safe, a thing you grew up with and are supposed to know by heart.

***

"I want to leave," you whispered when Chrollo put his arm around your waist. Yet another painting by an unknown artist; names that didn't ring a bell and suffering deities depicted on canvas twirled in an odd dance.

He didn't react immediately, so you repeated yourself. Something hinted that you should keep quiet and admire in silence, but something else entirely urged you to push. Perhaps it was too hot. Perhaps too many people were surrounding you and Chrollo's touch felt stifling rather than reassuring.

"Can we get out of here?"

He looked down at you, expression calm, and you could almost call it considering. The hand on your hipbone tightened just a notch, as if making sure you won't slip away.

"Not yet, dear. We haven't seen everything."

A sigh died somewhere in your chest before it got the chance to escape your lungs. "We've been here for over an hour," you managed. And while art usually caused pleasant emotions in you, right now it did nothing of sorts. People brushed past, paying little mind to the couple blocking one of the main hallways. You tried to not fidget under Chrollo's gaze.

Maybe he would've granted your request - who knows? Chrollo wasn't the type to deny you anything reasonable, not after almost four months of compliance - if a man had not appeared right next to you like a ghost out of thin air. You remembered him from a fine dinner, one of many. The memory was hazy, you had a glass of martini at Chrollo's indulgence which proved to be a bit stronger than expected. But the feeling, that sinking sensation of unease you got back then from the man's presence remained. As well as the smell of his cologne, leathery; it lingered behind him even after he left the table.

One look of his dark eyes was enough to make your stomach clench.

And then they started talking.

When you were a child you hated shopping with your mother. Groceries or clothing - no matter. It was not the process itself, but rather occasional encounters with other adults she knew. The chit-chats about everything and nothing could last forever, and you stood there, tugging on her hand to remind about your existence. Can we go? Can we go home, are you finished?

You weren't a child anymore, yet the impression of your own invisibility and being a silent accessory to Chrollo, although he occasionally looked down at you, brought those memories back.

The gallery room was too small. There were too many people.

The nape of your neck tingled.

You wrung your hand out of Chrollo's hold faster than any reasonable thought could stop you. He blinked in surprise, and that was the only time in four months you saw him taken aback for a small particle of a second. Before having a chance to see his composure settle back or properly regret your actions, you slipped through bodies like a fish. Stupid heels of elegant shoes with ankle straps and pointed toe tips hindered your every step. Your heartbeat hammered in your ears as if someone hit them with blunt force repeatedly. The dreadful dress he chose rustled against your legs, black velvet fabric clinging to your thighs when you tried to maneuver between visitors. You wanted to get out. Just to have some air. Just to take a breath.

"Dear," Chrollo's voice reached you from behind, but you didn't slow down. You passed paintings one by one. Saints screaming at your hasty steps and angry expressions seemed to judge you. "Dear." Louder now. People were throwing curious glances at you both.

You did not spot a waiter who stopped abruptly before you with a tray of wine glasses in time.

It was really supposed to be a nice evening.

***

You towel dry your hair until it feels acceptable enough and pull the pajama on, a silky set Chrollo gifted (replaced yours with). It is more comfortable than anything you've ever owned, but still too short on your frame and reveals way too much skin for your liking. He won't let you sleep not in the bed tonight, this much is obvious. The makeshift mattress you've made on the floor is nowhere to be seen just like you expected.

So be it.

Quietly you slip under the covers and turn on your side, facing the window. The sheets smell fresh and clean and there's even a hint of lavender underneath if you focus hard, but right now all you can focus on is getting through this night. Sleep comes quick. Or so you think because when Chrollo lies down next to you, you jerk awake. His body radiates warmth, not close enough to touch just yet, but the knowledge that it'll change soon causes a surge of nausea within you.

He shifts with a faint rustling of silk sheets. An arm comes to drape around your middle like a shackle; you move closer to the bed edge, curling yourself into a ball. It almost seems like you might fall off, and perhaps you will, really, your leg is already hanging in part.

A delicate kiss is placed at the top of your spine, bare where the shirt doesn't reach your shoulder blades. Another one follows on your vertebrae and then he pulls you flush against him. Your heartbeat speeds up and palms become cold; his - is slow and steady, like always.

"You're going to fall off," he whispers.

"Fine by me." You whisper too for some reason, despite there being nobody else to hear you.

There's a soft exhale from behind and his hand begins to rub circles on your tense stomach, lazy motions that go up to your rib cage and down to the belly button. Chrollo's breath tickles your nape and you know that if it wasn't for four months of constant touches, caresses and brushes, you would've pushed him away. Careful conditioning - that's what it is, you're not stupid. Your body knows him, his scent, his hands and voice now, even though your mind screams at them to keep their distance.

He hums when you shudder.

"Cold?" Chrollo asks. One of his fingers traces the hem of your shorts. Your hand comes over it and halts it midway.

"Please stop," you say, and it's the first time since this all started your voice is actually cracking, like an eggshell. Fragile at the edges.

He doesn't say anything but the motion ceases. Slowly, his hand retreats to come rest on your hipbone where it grants you a gentle squeeze.

Chrollo kisses the back of your head.

"Sleep," he tells you.

Easier said than done.

***

The new penthouse looks pretty much like any other you've stayed in – large bed and luxurious decor. It even has a grand piano standing in one of the corners which you have no idea how to play. Chrollo releases your hand and heads into the bathroom while you wander around, poking at things just for the sake of having something to do. A glass figurine of a little ballerina catches your attention. She seems frozen in her sorrowful stance, looking downwards to the ground beneath her tiny pointe shoes. You turn it this way and that, watching light catch on the shiny surface.

The shower starts running.

It's been only three days after the incident in the gallery and Chrollo hasn't commented upon it in the slightest. Maybe he's simply biding his time, you wouldn't be surprised.

Eventually you settle down onto the soft mattress and grab the first random book from the side table. Reading helps. Immersing yourself into fiction distracts from reality.

You thumb through the pages and find out that it's some sort of a romance novel, a period one judging by the writing style. Some duke-like character seems to be enamored with one of his maids but can't do anything about it because of social stigmas. The woman herself is poor as a church mouse yet beautiful beyond words - a bit cliché if you're honest, still there's nothing wrong with it per se, everyone can enjoy their guilty pleasures.

Chrollo emerges from the bathroom after some time, drying his hair with a towel. He moves about the room: unpacking your luggage, hanging up clothes in the closet, etc. Your eyes follow him without meaning to. There are times like this when Chrollo almost feels like a normal person. What he is doing seems domestic enough to trick your brain into short periods of blissful ignorance. Then your gaze falls onto the cross tattoo on his forehead and the illusion breaks like a soap bubble on a sunny day.

You turn another page and read half a paragraph before realizing you've absorbed absolutely nothing.

"What are you reading?" Chrollo sits by your side after he's finished unpacking. His voice is light, almost casual. Almost playful. It puts you on edge.

"Something I found." You close the book and show him the cover. "It was next to the bed."

He leans forward, glancing at the words written on the page. When Chrollo speaks, there's amusement in his tone. "Interesting."

Interesting. What's that supposed to mean? You keep your eyes trained on the text, but try as you might, the words seem meaningless, jumbled. Chrollo rests his hand on your calf. He keeps it there for a few moments before sliding it upward, slowly, toward your knee. You give him a look. "What are you doing?"

"Getting your attention," he responds with the simplicity of someone stating the weather outside.

"You have it. What is it?" It's that type of a stare he gives you that had almost transformed into his personal form of art. One that takes everything in without any effort – from your eyebrows furrowed in suspicion to the corners of your mouth turned downward into a frown.

"You know," Chrollo says thoughtfully. "I've been thinking."

Isn't he always?

He squeezes your leg under your knee, where skin is more sensitive and then you're cornered - right between him and the headboard.

"Your behavior in the gallery, dear. It was rather unexpected," he tells you and the sinking feeling turns into full blown nausea in your throat.

You knew it. Knew that he was going to get back to this, sooner or later. Fuck. "You've been behaving so well these past months and I wonder what prompted this."

Chrollo tilts his head.

"I'm sorry." You reply and shift. "I got anxious."

"Go on," he says when you don't elaborate, not sounding angry or upset, just curious. The warm thumb traces patterns on your knee cap - you hate how Chrollo does this, makes you talk when he could leave you alone and drop the subject.

You have to continue now.

"New spaces isn't really my thing, and yesterday I felt... Pressured. It wasn't intentional, I simply," you shrug your shoulders, "got overwhelmed and acted on impulse. I shouldn't have."

Your voice doesn't crack once and you're proud over that.

"Hm." Chrollo hums but it's neither approving nor disapproving, more like pondering. He moves closer so your knees bump against each other. This is dangerous territory – him being close while questioning you, you know better than to pull back now.

"You're sorry," he says, a strand of damp hair falls onto his forehead. "Are you sorry because you understand what you did wrong," each word is precise as if to drill into your head. "Or are you apologizing because you're afraid of the consequences?"

You stare at his shirt instead of his face. The top three buttons are undone, revealing a patch of pale skin. You want to button them up - knowing him, it's hardly a coincidence.

"Both, I think." You opt for honesty, because lying to Chrollo would most likely end with him seeing right through it, regardless of your efforts.

His frame effectively blocks out everything else from view: up close like this he's handsome, there's no denying it. Dark eyes framed by long eyelashes and soft lips and high cheekbones that make him look like a model out of a fashion magazine. And yet there's also coldness underneath it all, hidden behind those charming smiles and polite remarks. It sometimes gives you an uncanny impression: Chrollo seems frozen, suspended in that state of perpetual calmness, like time stopped ticking inside of his chest.

"What now?" You ask, heart thrumming somewhere deep near the bottom of your rib cage. The book lays forgotten next to you, pages bent after it slipped from your grasp and hit the mattress.

Chrollo cups your cheek with one hand, "Now we continue the evening."

Continue?

The confusion must show on your face because he chuckles. "You apologized," it feels patronizing but you try to ignore it for the sake of getting over with whatever this is. "And admitted your faults. I can overlook a single instance of defiance–especially since you explained yourself so well."

Relief washes over you, making your shoulders sag. You take the book, careful not to let your fingers brush, he seems to like skin on skin contact.

"I expect better behavior next time, dear."

"I'll try," You mutter under your breath.

His hand slips away from your thigh and moves to grab the remote - news, of course, - Chrollo watches news almost religiously every night before going to sleep. "I appreciate when you behave," he adds smoothly. "It makes everything much easier for both of us."

He settles his head on your lap, and it feels heavy, and his damp hair tickles, but you don't dare push him off.

#hunter x hunter #chrollo lucilfer #chrollo lucifer x reader #yandere #yandere chrollo #yandere chrollo lucilfer #shalott fanfiction #hunter x hunter fanfic

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theidiotwhowritesthings · 1 year

Text

Take Care of You [9]

Sugar Daddy!Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Overall Warnings: slow burn, angst/comfort, power imbalance, age gap, possessive tendencies, eventual smut, #daddyissues, independent reader learns to let go and relax, emotionally constipated Joel Miller learns to be vulnerable; (more specific warnings to be added to individual chapters if necessary)

Chapter Word Count: 9,950

Mood board and borders by @saradika

Summary: You spent your entire adult life supporting yourself and barely getting by. It’s why a life of ease offered to you by a mysterious stranger sounded so foreign and unbelievable. Joel Miller, dressed in flannels that had seen better days, didn’t look like the kind who could promise you the world on a plate, but he seemed desperate to help out. All he asks is that you let him take care of you. That wouldn’t be so hard. Would it?

[a/n: we back, baby. and we also barely edited so if you catch a typo don't hate me. also this was supposed to end in a different spot but then i got carried away in the middle so i had to split it 🥴]

Chapter Specific Warnings: angst, heartbreak, binge drinking to ease emotional turmoil, mild violence, mentions of blood and injury

09: LET ME TAKE CARE OF YOU

"i still haven't figured out how to sit across from you, and not be madly in love with everything you do." ⏤ william c. hannon

Three years ago, Nima tried to convince you to go skydiving with her. She begged and she pleaded, but you told her ‘no’ on account of thinking she was a crazy person for wanting to jump out of a perfectly good plane. Which was hilarious now considering you were sitting beside Joel wanting to pull open the door and dive out. The irony was not lost on you.

The only reason you hadn’t gone scrambling for the door was because Joel was forced to take a work call a few minutes into the flight. He hadn’t moved away. Joel stayed right next to you with his arm behind you as he spoke, and every few moments he’d glance at you with a silent apology and shake his head. You’d reply with a tight lipped smile and go back to mindlessly scrolling through instagram.

Unfortunately the mindlessly scrolling was not so mindless. Since leaving Vegas, you had a high pitch ringing in the back of your mind like an endless, echoing siren. Married. A married man. Joel was⏤ Your teeth were clenched together so hard you wondered if Joel could hear them grinding against one another. Yesterday had been filled with so much anxiety, and you had managed to work through it by the end of the night. Mostly. But this was worse. This was so much worse.

Married?

Your throat suddenly felt tight, eyes stinging with unshed tears, and you hastily undid your seatbelt and stood. Joel glanced your way and you pointed to the back of the plane and mouthed the word ‘bathroom’ to him. He nodded with a soft smile, and you spun on your heel and practically sprinted to the tiny plane bathroom. You struggled to get the folding door shut and the stewardess who sat not far away stared at you in confusion. You gave her an awkward wave and finally got it latched.

“Fuck.” You shoved your face in your hands, leaning against the wall, and held back your tears. You were confused and frustrated, and you couldn’t even find relief in a good cry because Joel would spot it in a heartbeat no matter how much you tried to put yourself back together. The thought of confronting him about this right now was your worst nightmare. You hadn’t had the time to process any of the wild thoughts pinging around your head yet.

Your mind was at war with itself. On one hand, maybe you were being stupid and naive. For the last month and a half you’ve spent nearly every day with Joel and on the days you weren’t actively seeing him the two of you would talk either over a call or through text. You knew Yo-yo for 24 hours. Sure, she seemed nice and sincere, but what if Rosalind sent her to screw with you? For all you knew, Yo-yo had cruel intentions and was trying to drive a wedge between you and Joel. By taking her word you’d be playing right into that trap. What she said about the other sugar baby and about Joel being married? Maybe it was all fake and you’ve been stressing for no reason.

On the other hand, Joel didn’t kiss you. He didn’t kiss you because he wanted to ‘do right by you’. Joel asked for time. Was it because he needed to get a divorce? Worse. Was he married with absolutely no plans to get divorced and just buying time for something else?

God, if you kept up this line of thought you were gonna vomit. Quickly, you turned to the sink to splash a little cold water on your face in hopes it would help you get your shit together for the next thirty minutes. Half an hour and you’d be on the ground. But then what? It would be a miracle if you kept it together for thirty minutes let alone any longer.

You took in a long, slow breath and tried to clear your mind. When you felt steady enough, you stepped out of the bathroom. As tempting as it was to hide in there for the rest of the flight, it would probably be a red flag for Joel that something was wrong. You wandered back over to Joel and at your approach, and at the sight of you, he covered the bottom of his phone and whispered, “You alright?”

“Mhmm.” You nodded quickly and sat back down.

“I’m sorry. Jus’ another minute.”

You waved your hands at him as nonchalantly as you could and he went back to his call. You leaned back in the seat, phone in hand, and Joel readjusted his arm on the back of the seat so he could settle his hand on your shoulder. As he always did, his thumb was tracing circles on your shoulder. An action you always loved, but now an intrusive thought slammed into you⏤ does he do this with his wife? The question was so startling, so sickening, that you couldn’t bite back the nausea that rolled through your body. You jumped up so fast you nearly stumbled over your feet, and you scrambled for the bathroom.

Vaguely, you heard your name behind you, but you didn’t stop until you reached the toilet. You fell to your knees and threw up. The taste of acid in your mouth made you wince, but getting it all up did bring some relief. That relief was short lived though as you felt a large, warm hand settle on your back.

“Jesus, sugar.” He said in a soothing voice as he rubbed your back. “What’s goin’ on? Have you felt sick all mornin’?”

You spat into the toilet bowl, trying to get the taste of bile out of your mouth, before reaching out and flushing the toilet. You tried to stand, and Joel hooked his arm around you to help you up. He called out of the bathroom and a second later the stewardess brought in a cup of water and a ginger ale. Joel handed you the water and kept his hand rubbing up and down on your back.

“I’m⏤ I’m fine.” You shook your head and took a sip of water to swish and spit into the sink. “Really.”

“Obviously not.” Joel replied. “C’mon, let’s sit you down.”

“Joel…” You tried to argue, but he wasn’t hearing it. He kept an arm around you as he carefully led you back to the seat. He brought the bottle of ginger ale with you and the moment you finished the water he took the cup out of your hand to replace it with the soda. “I feel better now. It’s fine.”

“You’ve been off this mornin'. I was worried.” Joel lifted a hand to feel your forehead. It made sense that Joel picked up on your distress. He had always been so good at reading you. “You seemed fine when we first woke up. When exactly did you start feelin' sick?”

You took a sip of the ginger ale, “I…I don’t know. After breakfast maybe.” You lied. The sincerity in his eyes, the concern in his voice, it was both bringing you comfort and making you sick again all at once. You felt so stupid. Either you were freaking out over a lie a woman you barely knew told you or you were being tricked into feelings by a married man. Either way, you felt pathetic. “Your, um, your work call, Joel.”

Joel shook his head in response and didn’t even bother addressing the work call he stopped. He set a hand on the back of your neck and his thumb was lightly ghosting over your skin. You closed your eyes and took a slow breath in and out through your nose. “Tell me what I can do, sugar.”

“I⏤” You swallowed the lump in your throat. You forced your eyes open, finding Joel’s furrowed brow and worried gaze already on you, and it made you want to cry. You shook your head, “I, um, I think I just wanna lay down for a while. If that’s okay.”

“Course it’s okay.” He replied.

The seat the two of you were sharing wasn’t long enough for you to lay down without laying your head on Joel’s lap. You planned on moving to the other couch seats to lay down, but Joel’s hand was still on the back of your neck and he lightly began to guide you down. Too tired to even try and move, you settled your head on his thigh and curled your body up onto the rest of the seat.

In any other situation, this would be one of the most comfortable spots on Earth. Your head rested on his thick, firm thigh, and Joel’s hand traced where he could reach. Up and down your jawline and neck⏤ his thumb and forefinger would occasionally massage your earlobe. You tried to calm your racing thoughts. The truth was, you didn’t know the truth yet. It was a fact you kept repeating in your head in hopes it would numb the sharp pain of your worst fears, but those intrusive thoughts continued to pummel you.

“I’m so sorry, baby girl.” Joel murmured while his fingers dragged across your skin. “What a shitty way to end this weekend.” You hummed in agreement. This really was a shitty way to close out what started as one of the best weekends of your life.

Avoiding Joel made you realize how involved in your life he was. After landing in LA, Joel tried to drag you to a doctor and only conceded when you told him it was probably a 24 hour bug and you just wanted to sleep. He called you later that night to check in on you, and you managed to talk to him for a few minutes before lying about wanting to go to bed early. Come Monday morning, you went to work despite Joel texting you that you should stay home. Trying to focus at work was physically painful. Enough so that after the nightmare Monday had been, you left midway through the day today claiming to Henry that you didn’t feel well. It wasn’t even a full blown lie. You felt like shit.

Nima threw the folder of papers onto her desk and set her hands on her hips, “I’m gonna hit him with my car.”

“Please don’t.” You mumbled with your chin resting in your palm as you leaned on the other side of her desk. After leaving work, you came directly to Nima’s office. Going home and sitting on your couch, alone with your thoughts, would only make you ten times more miserable.

“No, actually, my car isn’t big enough. I’m gonna commandeer a bus and hit him with that.”

“I haven’t confirmed anything yet. For all I know, I’m being this pathetic over nothing.”

Nima snapped her hand up and pointed at you with a glare, “No. I will not have you shit talking yourself when the only person we should be shit talking is Joel Miller and his wife.”

You groaned and let your head fall to the desk. The words ‘Joel Miller and his wife’ made you viscerally ill. The time you spent not talking to Joel Monday night you spent stalking people on social media. You reached dead ends very quickly though since Joel didn’t have any social media whatsoever. The easiest solution was to just look Joel in the eyes and ask him for the truth, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You wanted to know the truth, but you were scared to actually seek it out.

If you asked Joel for the truth, if you confronted him, then he’d give it to you.

What if the truth was something you didn’t want to hear?

“Alrighty, babe, real talk.” Nima said and you lifted your head, keeping your chin resting on the wood, and saw she had dropped down into her office chair. To meet your eye line, she held her chin on the desk across from you to mirror your position. “I can threaten and plot his demise all I want, but I know I’m not allowed to kill him until this is confirmed or denied.” She twisted her lips. “You deserve the truth.”

You pouted, “How am I supposed to ask him about this, Nima??”

Her eyebrows furrowed in concern, “If you did ask… How sure are you that he’d answer truthfully?”

You pushed up and leaned back in the chair. That was a good question, and with anyone else it would probably be a real concern. However, you weren’t worried about that. You truly, deep down, believed that if you confronted Joel about this he would give you the truth.

“I really think he would.” You answered. “Is that naive of me?”

“You know him better than I do.”

This entire situation made you question that. Did you know him? You knew he grew up in Austin. He had a younger brother, Tommy, and it was just them and his mom for most of his childhood. You knew he attended one year in college when his mom passed away⏤ cancer. Joel dropped out of college to take care of his brother and picked up a job in construction. That’s where he got his start. His first boss saw he had a knack for more than just the manual labor and trusted him with more and more until Joel was running sites for the man. At 27, Joel’s girlfriend of three months got pregnant. They planned to make it work, but she left when Sarah was two weeks old. You knew he adopted Ellie three years later. That he earned his bachelor’s degree in business at home through online classes while raising two young girls and working a full time job. That he started Miller Construction shortly after earning that degree, and it blew up from there.

You knew despite being a tough guy, he didn’t like horror movies.

You knew his favorite whiskey was Lagavulin⏤ neat.

The one thing you didn’t know was if he was married or not.

“I am going to suggest something,” Nima began, “And I want you to listen before you call me crazy.” You shot her confused look and she continued on. “I have this cousin.” You groaned and Nima chastised you to listen. It seemed like she had a cousin available for every situation that arose, and half the people she called cousin weren’t even technically related to her by blood. Anytime you asked her about it all she’d say was ‘Korean moms’ love to talk’, as if that clarified anything for you. “Seriously. He’s dating a private eye. With one text, we can get some answers.”

You shook your head, “Nima, that’s insane.”

“Is it?”

“Yes, hiring a private investigator is insane.”

“Look, it’ll get us reliable answers.” Nima argued. “The truth.”

You rolled the idea around in your head. It was literally the epitome of paranoid absurdity, but you were wondering if that’s the point you were at. Would it be better to find out this way? That way when you finally did confront Joel you wouldn’t be blind sided by the answer. Hell, if the answer turned out to be ‘no, he isn’t married’ then you can chalk up the last few days as time wasted and move on with your life. That being said, it did seem like an invasion of Joel’s privacy.

“That feels…” You paused, “Illegal?”

“It’s not illegal to hire a PI.” Nima countered then tilted her head. “I think. I’m not a lawyer, but people do it on TV all the time, right?”

“Well, that logic is foolproof.”

“I’m not gonna do it if you tell me you don’t want to do it.” Nima said firmly. She crossed her arms and gave a small little shrug. “But you have to do something. Either this or just call him right now and tell him the two of you need to talk.” There was a protective sincerity in her eyes that felt like a security blanket being settled on your shoulders. “I don’t want to see you get more attached to this guy just to be hurt. I don’t want him to lie to you.”

You knew Nima only had your best interests in mind. Technically, Joel had given you no reason not to trust him. Half the time you thought on this topic you convinced yourself you were overreacting and being a pathetic, paranoid mess. Yo-yo, as nice and fun as she had been, was a virtual stranger to you. Her word shouldn’t trump Joel’s. You knew all of that, and you wanted to trust him. However, it felt like some broken part of you was looking for something to be wrong. Joel Miller was too good to be true. Why would someone like him be interested in someone like you? There had to be something else going on. According to your ex, you hadn’t even been worthy of him and Joel Miller was ten times the man he was.

“Okay, do it.” You blurted and hated yourself for doing so.

Nima held your gaze for a second, but you pushed to stand and crossed her office to her private bathroom. You took one of the paper towels, dampening it, and set it on the back of your neck in a poor attempt to ground yourself. For a while longer, you just stood there in front of the sink. Not staring at yourself, but staring forward at a singular spot as your thoughts raced. You needed a positive thought. Just one would do, and you were prepared to drag it out of your thick skull kicking and screaming if necessary.

“Everything is going to be okay.” You mumbled to yourself softly.

The whispered words did nothing for your anxiety. However, the memory of him did. You found comfort looking back at the soft moments spent with Joel and let yourself fall down that rabbit hole. The temporary peace was nice, but it didn't last. Finding strength you didn’t know you had today, you splashed your face one more time and then left the bathroom.

Your eyes immediately landed on Nima who stared back with wide eyes. Nima spoke first, “What?”

“What?” You repeated. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Oh, I thought you said something.” Nima flipped her phone over and settled her hand on top of it. You glanced from her face to her phone and back again. A look of misery flickered across her features. You tilted your head in question. “Are you hungry? I’m hungry.”

“Nima.” You crossed the room quickly. “Did they already text back??”

“No. Yes. Maybe?” Nima shook her head. “Not exactly.”

“Nima.”

She twisted her lips and drummed her nails against the plastic case of her phone. You shot her another look and she blew out a sigh. “He sent me a response, but it’s like half an answer. Half a report. We should wait until he can⏤”

“What did he say?”

“Apparently, he’s working on a case for someone else right now and had a database right in front of him so all he had to do was type in⏤”

“Nima, please.” You blurted. It felt like your heart was caught in your throat. You couldn’t breathe and you didn't feel coherent enough to string together a thought. Her hesitance was an answer in and of itself. You rubbed your throat, your other arm wrapping around your torso in a poor attempt to hold yourself together, and gasped. “Just say it.”

“He’s married, babe.” Nima mumbled. You knew the words had been coming, but they still overwhelmed you. The air left your lungs as if someone had gut punched you and you fell back into the seat in front of her desk. “He said he’d send me the certificate when he could, but he has to finish this job first. I’m so sorry. I am so, so sorry. I⏤”

Nima stopped herself from speaking as she came around her desk and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. You sat in her embrace for as long as your shattering mind could endure and then shook your head, “I need a drink. Drinks. Plural.”

“It’s three in the afternoon, babe.” Nima mumbled in concern. You shot her a dry look and she offered you a tight lipped smile. “Drinks it is! Let’s go. We can go back to my place and⏤”

“No.” You pushed to stand. “I wanna go out.”

“Oh… kay. Where?”

“Anywhere.” You turned and began to leave.

Nima was scrambling to gather her belongings into her strawberry shaped purse before rushing out after you. “Just one drink though. I hate being the voice of reason, but we should limit ourselves to one drink.”

One drink turned into two which turned into three which turned into twelve.

By 6 PM, you were borderline wasted. It was by no means the best decision you’ve ever made, but you couldn’t classify it as your worst considering that, for the first time since leaving Vegas, you didn’t feel sad or defeated. No, those blue emotions had turned into a burning shade of red. You had finally found your anger and all it took was copious amounts of alcohol.

“I mean, married?” You scoffed as you stood at the bar with Nima at your side. “That’s⏤ That’s illegal.” Nima nodded in agreement as she blindly tried to find the straw in her drink with her tongue. You reached out and pushed it toward her lips. “And worse than illegal! It’s fucking rude.”

“So rude.” Nima slurped at the last of her drink and all you could hear was the rattling of ice in her glass. She pulled away to slam the cup down and pointed at you⏤ her pink hair had been let down from the braid to messily rest around her shoulders. “You should get a new sugar daddy!” You stuck your tongue out in disgust and shook your head. “No! This is such a good idea.” Nima began to look around the bar. “Let’s find you a super hot, super not married sugar daddy.”

“I don’t want a new sugar daddy. I want another drink.” You leaned on the bar and waited for the bartender to look your way. Nima and you had bounced to a few bars. The two of you, back when you were sober, decided to start drinking in an area that had multiple bars all within walking distance. The one you were in now wasn’t familiar to you⏤ it wasn’t a place you and Nima had been to before. It was a bit too upscale for your liking. Sober you would not have been a fan. Drunk you? Loving it.

Nima was tapping on your shoulder rapidly and when you looked her way she was pointing across the bar to God knows who. “He looks like he wouldn’t marry someone without your permission.”

“That’s,” You shook your head, “not my situation.”

“Isn’t it?”

“I don’t know.” You shook your head and looked back toward the bartender who was busy with a group of women further down the bar. The sound of vibrating vaguely filled the air and you leaned closer to Nima who immediately wrapped her arms around you in a hug. “You’re vibrating.”

“You’re vibrating.”

You found her purse and opened it so you could rifle through it. It dawned on you then that somewhere around bar two and drink five you had shoved your phone in her purse for safe keeping. When you finally managed to pull it out, Joel’s face was flashing on the screen and you yelped in surprise. You tossed the phone onto the bar and held your face between your hands.

“Oh, no. Oh, no, no.” You shook your head and the vibration stopped. Joel’s picture disappeared and was replaced with a notification of a missed call that joined the notification telling you that you had unread messages. Your eyes snapped to Nima who was trying to drink out of her empty cup again. “Joel.”

“Bastard man.” Nima edited.

“Dinner.” You grimaced. “At 7. I’m supposed to get dinner with Joel at 7. It’s 6:35.”

Nima shook her head and crunched the ice she had shoveled into her mouth, “Bastard man can go to dinner with his wife tonight.”

You grimaced, “I hate all the words you just used.”

The bartender began to wander over and Nima turned to order more drinks. You picked up your phone and leaned against the bartop with your elbow. With a frown and furrowed brow, you opened your text messages. Every unread text was from Joel unsurprisingly. The first came in at 4:29 and it was a simple, ‘Hey sugar, I’m excited to see you tonight’. The next was almost exactly an hour later and it said, ‘Hope your day’s been alright. We still on for tonight?’. Finally, the most recent at 6:15, was just your name with a question mark.

You set the phone back down before the temptation to reply could overcome you. It only sat on the bartop for a second before it began to vibrate violently as another call came in. Joel’s face filled the screen and you felt a wave of sadness drag you under. The fact that you were mourning the lack of his presence to this degree was probably a sign you were doing this ‘sugar baby’ thing very wrong.

“Maybe I should answer it.” You voiced the thought aloud.

Nima caught it and gasped before slapping her hand on top of the still buzzing phone, “No, ma’am! You will not be doing that.” The bartender set two new drinks between the two of you. Nima pushed one in front of you and moved the straw to point directly at you. “Drink.”

You took a sip then spoke, “I don’t even know the whole story⏤” Nima pushed your face back to the straw so you took another long sip. “Maybe it’s a misunderstanding…” This time your lips found their way to the straw on their own accord and you took a sip that could be argued as dangerously long. “I need to talk to him. Confront him. Demand answers.”

“Yes. To all of that. Eventually.” Nima replied with a nod. She reached forward and bopped you on the nose with her finger. “But not tonight.”

“Why not?”

“Because I know one thing in life,” Nima held up the one finger she used to bop your nose, “You do not have serious conversations while drunk.”

You shook your head with a pout, “I thought you said you don’t like being the voice of reason.”

“If it means helping you, I’ll always lean toward reason, babe.”

The two of you went back to drinking. Your vibrating phone stopped and a few seconds passed before a notification for a voicemail popped up. You turned to Nima, “Can I listen to it? That’s not talking. That’s listening.”

Nima chewed on her straw slowly before bobbing her head in an affirmative nod, “I shall allow it.”

You picked up the phone to listen to the message he left you.

‘Hey, sugar.’ Joel’s voice rumbled over the line and you felt your chest physically ache at the sound. You closed your eyes in annoyance with yourself. If you hadn’t fallen so hard, so fast for this man you wouldn’t be in this scenario to begin with. ‘Gotta say I’m a little worried. Haven’t heard from ya all day. Gimme a call when ya get this.’

You groaned and set your head down on the bar. Guilt gnawed at you. It felt childish of you to be ghosting him like this, and that wasn’t your typical go to move. You had enough respect for the people in your life to address them when needed rather than hide behind voicemail. With the guilt was a swirling vortex of anger. You were angry at Joel for not being up front with you. You were angry at Yo-Yo for being the one to plant the initial doubt that started all this. You were angry at yourself most of all. Angry that you felt guilt at all, angry that you had foolishly placed so much trust in a man you barely knew, angry that despite everything there was still a part of you that craved his presence. You missed his touch and his voice. You missed those burning brown eyes and the way his very glance could melt you into a puddle.

“You okay, babe?” Nima’s voice asked softly. You shook your head without lifting it. “I’m sorry. I can break his knee caps if you want?”

“What?” You lifted your gaze.

“What?” She replied innocently.

The phone began to vibrate again startling you. He had just called so you didn’t expect him to call again, but then again you were supposed to be in your apartment waiting for him to pick you up for dinner. You pictured him standing at your door dressed up and holding a bouquet of flowers. Nausea rolled over you in waves, and you grabbed your mixed drink thinking it could cure your troubles.

A few minutes passed before another voicemail was left. You snatched your phone up and shoved it back into Nima’s purse so it would be out of your line of sight⏤ not even bothering to listen to the second voicemail. Tomorrow, you decided. Tomorrow you would confront Joel and have this difficult conversation. You both finished the drinks in front of you as the lively bar continued to thrive around you.

“Why is he married?” You asked suddenly. Nima must have known it wasn’t a question you expected an actual answer to as she stayed silent. You rested your face in your hands and sighed. With your eyes closed against your hands like this you began to feel dizzy. A sure sign that you should stop drinking. Nima rubbed your back soothingly and you dropped your hands to shoot her an appreciative glance. “You’re the best best friend a girl could ask for.”

“I know, babe. And you know what else I know?” Nima squished your cheeks together with a wide grin, “You deserve the universe in a gold hand basket, and any man who can’t see that or who would play games with your big, loving heart doesn’t deserve you.”

You laughed and Nima chuckled herself before letting go of your face to pick up her empty glass. Her tongue struggled to find the straw but once it did she tried to take a big gulp only to get drops and air. Nima pulled away from her straw and furrowed her brow, “Who finished my drink?”

With another laugh, you raised your hand to order two more drinks. At this point you’ve already had so much to drink, what would one more hurt? You knew the hangover tomorrow was going to be a bad one, but a part of you was looking forward to it. There would be no mourning Joel tomorrow if your head hurt too much to even think his name.

Nima successfully managed to distract you again as she drunkenly delved into a story you weren’t quite following, but you enjoyed the way she told it. A low whistle interrupted the moment of peace the two of you had found. You glanced past Nima to see two men in business suits wandering over. Nothing about them stood out to you. One was brunet and the other blond, but they both looked like they never grew out of the frat lifestyle on a college campus.

“We saw you two pretty ladies from over there and wanted to come and offer you our company.” The blond greeted smugly.

Nima turned in her seat to face him and waved her hand at him while taking a long sip of her drink until the ice rattled in the glass. Then she pulled the straw out of her mouth to finally speak with a shake of her head, “Sorry, we don’t speak english.”

“You just said that in English.” The blond chuckled.

“Sorry, sorry.” Nima waved her hand once more. “I don’t understand your accent.”

You snickered under your breath while chewing on your straw. The brunet stepped forward to stand side by side with the other and shook his head, “No need to be a bitch. We just wanted to talk.”

“Oh, you haven’t even begun to see bitchy yet.” Nima pointed her glass in their direction⏤ a bit of ice sloshing out with the exaggerated movement. “I can show you bitchy.” She reached back to swat at your arm. “Tell them, babe.”

“She can.” You nodded in agreement.

The blond set a hand on his friend’s shoulder and tugged him back, “Let’s just go, man.”

The brunet reluctantly let himself get dragged away, but he continued to stare at you and Nima the entire time. Nima spun in her seat and scoffed, “Where was I before I was interrupted by douchebag one and douchebag two?”

“I’m not gonna lie,” You shrugged, “I have no idea.”

“I’ll pick a place then.” Nima said and jumped into the middle of her story. “So, there I was covered head to toe in honey.”

Same as before, you really couldn’t keep track of her tale but it amused you all the same. The two of you chatted for another minute or two before a new face came across the two of you again. Nima had bounced in her seat, excited, and it knocked her strawberry shaped purse to the floor. Your phone clattered out. Before you could climb off the bar stool to grab it, a man passing knelt down and scooped it up. In one tanned hand he grabbed the purse and in the other your phone. The phone’s screen lit up and you swallowed at the sight of the multiple missed messages all from the same person.

“Oh.” The man cleared his throat and straightened his stance. He was handsome with a kind face. Dark hair, a bit on the longer side, was messily pushed back and it matched the scruff on his upper lip and chin. The man wore a pink button up shirt, all the buttons undone, over a white t-shirt. “I suppose this is yours, miss?”

You begun to reach out, “Thanks⏤”

“Hold it!” Nima pointed at the man making his dark, brown eyes widen. “State your intentions, sir!”

“To…return your purse?” He lifted up the strawberry bag.

Nima narrowed her eyes at him and snatched it away, “Likely story.”

“Thank you.” You reached out and he handed the phone over to you. A glance down revealed four missed calls, two unheard voicemails, and five texts. You winced at the sight and set your phone face down on the bar. You were surprised to see the man still standing by your stools. “You…” You narrowed your eyes at him. “You look familiar. Have we met before?”

He chuckled and shook his head, “Afraid not, ma’am.”

It was sitting on the tip of your tongue, but your foggy brain just couldn’t quite grasp it. Nima snapped her fingers and pointed at him. “I got it. He’s that guy.” You lifted an eyebrow at her words and she nodded frantically. “Yeah, he’s that actor! You play in that one show with, like, the zombies or whatever, right?”

“Not at all.” He laughed with a shake of his head. “I ain’t no actor.”

“Well then, I’m out of guesses.” Nima grumbled. She tilted her head, looking him up and down once more, “You seem nice enough. Got a pretty face. You rich? You wanna be a sugar daddy? She’s in the market.”

You rolled your eyes, “Nima.”

“You’re in the market for a sugar daddy?” The man asked in shock. You could hardly blame the man for his confusion and disbelief. This was hardly a normal bar conversation. “Really?”

“No. She’s just drunk.”

“Irrelevant.” Nima argued.

You chuckled then introduced yourself and Nima. The man paused for a beat before nodding and offering you his hand. “Nice to meet you both. My name is Tommy.” It took a second to click, but once the name finally wormed its way through your mind your eyes widened. Tommy chuckled and answered your unspoken question, “Yeah. I am.”

Nima glanced between you two with a frown, “Hold on, I’m not following. You are what? You’ll be her new sugar daddy?”

“No way in hell.” Tommy grinned. “If I even thought 'bout it, my brother’d skin me alive.”

The look on Nima’s face stayed confused until you swallowed the lump in your throat and finally spoke, “It’s… Nima, this is Joel’s brother.”

Her face remained frozen before morphing into one of shock. She gasped, almost comically, and pointed at him. “Oh, fuck.” Her eyebrows furrowed into a glare. “You son of a bitch, your brother is a son of a bitch!”

Tommy didn’t pay her outburst any mind, but his eyes darted back to you. “I asked my brother to come out drinkin' with me tonight, but he said ‘no’ cause he had a date with you.” Tommy stuck his hands into his pockets. “Funny I’m findin' you here without him.”

“That’s because your brother is too busy with his wife to be with my girl!”

Tommy’s eyebrows furrowed in surprise and he glanced back to you, “He already told you about her?”

It was quite possibly the worst string of words you could have heard all day. Only in competition with Nima’s ‘He’s married, babe’. You felt nauseous and dizzy⏤ the breath stolen from you again. Nima was arguing with Tommy, you could hear her voice, but you couldn’t concretely understand a single word that was said. When you finally managed to get a handle on reality, you looked back to see things had fallen apart and more time than you realized had passed in your mental breakdown.

The blond and brunet from earlier, in the suits, had come back and were somehow arguing with Tommy and Nima now. You suddenly began to regret the last two drinks you had. Maybe if you had gone with a couple glasses of water instead you’d be able to puzzle out exactly what was going on right now.

“Get the hell outta here. They ain’t interested.” Tommy snapped.

“Just curious as to why we weren’t good enough for these bitches and you were.” The brunet slurred his words. Tommy stood a step in front of Nima who had slid off her bar stool to stand in front of you with her hands on her hips. “What’s so special about you, bub?”

“Ugh. How about the two of you run off to the bathroom and jack each other off, huh? Then leave us the fuck alone.” Nima sneered.

“Shut your damn mouth!”

The blond tried to push past Tommy toward Nima, but Tommy shoved him back immediately. He grabbed the guy by the collar. “You gonna charge at a woman like that? Fuckin' coward.” Tommy’s voice came out in a gravelly growl that reminded you so much of Joel that it was staggering. “You got a problem, you take it up with me.”

The next moment happened fast. The blond tried to swing out at Tommy so Tommy blocked it with his elbow before tackling the man to the ground. The brunet grabbed Nima and wrapped his arms around her. She howled in anger and squirmed in his arms trying to find purchase to hit him. The brunet spun so his back was to you and you slid off the stool. Without pause, without thought, you picked up your empty glass and smashed it to the back of the man’s head. He released Nima, crumpling to the ground with a groan, and any shred of a fight stopped⏤as did the entire bar.

Tommy was kneeling on the ground pinning the blond while Nima stood off to the side.

“Oh my God.” Nima squealed, amused.

“Oh my God.” Tommy blurted, impressed.

“Oh my God.” You gasped, shocked at your own action.

You were panting, damn near hyperventilating, as the brunet began to rise on shaky limbs. Other patrons nearby converged on the scene to help out and before you knew it you were being ushered off to the side where a few couches and seats sat in a lounge area.

“You’re such a badass.” Nima gushed from beside you. "How’s your hand??”

“Hurts.” You mumbled and stared down at the white cloth wrapped around your hand. Bright red was beginning to seep through. The consequences of smashing glass against the back of someone’s skull. Police had shown up and you knew Tommy was across the room talking to them. But still, your eyes stayed glued on your hand. The cuts weren’t terrible but they stung something awful.

“Babe?” You finally looked up and met Nima’s concerned eyes. She nodded, “You alright?”

You shot her a small smile, “Yeah. Are you okay? I can’t believe he grabbed you.”

“I’m fine.” Nima peeked at your hand then stood. “I’m gonna see if this bar has a real first aid kit we can use. Be right back.”

She jumped up and jogged over to the bar. You sunk in your seat with a sigh and leaned your head against the back of the couch. There had been something very sobering about smashing the glass against that guy’s head. The adrenaline and pain cleared any lingering fog from your previous drinks right out of your head. It left room for you to think about Joel. Meeting his brother certainly didn’t help. Tommy clapped one of the officer’s on the shoulder with a smile and they went separate ways. You lifted your head when you heard his footsteps draw near.

“Well, I spoke to the police.” Tommy stuck his hands into his pockets. “You’re not gonna get in trouble for the, you know, the glass. Won’t have to go downtown with ‘em.” You breathed a sigh of relief. Tommy held your gaze for a few more seconds before scrunching his nose and bobbing his head toward you. “And Joel is, uh, on his way.”

You covered your face with your good hand and groaned, “Can I please just be arrested instead?”

“Sorry, no can do.” Tommy sat down beside you. “You know, I didn’t say it earlier, but it’s nice to finally meet you. Joel never shuts up about you.”

“Please. Don’t.” You blurted. “I can’t… I can’t talk about him right now.”

Tommy nodded, “Right. I, uh, when I called him we didn’t talk much.” He laced his fingers together and rested his arms on his knees. “I mentioned you were hurt and things kind of spiraled from there. That’s probably for the best though. I don’t wanna get in between a lover’s quarrel⏤”

“I’m not his lover.” You snapped, and you hated the way your voice cracked. You shook your head, “Not if he’s married. Not…” The adrenaline was beginning to wear off and you were exhausted to your very bones. “This is so fucked up. I never should've agreed to…

Tommy didn’t immediately reply. He sighed, “I don’t know you, and I don’t got the exact details of what’s going on right now, but… I’m glad you agreed.” He turned and met your gaze with a tight smile. “Joel’s been… He’s been better. Joel was in a rut for a long time. So long that I kind of forgot he was in one. For a while, that was just Joel.” Tommy’s smile grew as he chuckled. “But ever since the two of you met, it’s like this weight has been lifted from his shoulders. We’ve all noticed it, and we’re all thankful.”

“He’s married.” You whispered. “And he didn’t tell me.”

Tommy rubbed the back of his neck, “I know, but it’s⏤ it’s not that simple.” He nervously chewed on his lower lip. “Can you just give him a chance to explain?” You flexed your hand and sucked in a sharp breath as pain lanced up your arm. “Consider it a favor for me.”

“A favor for you?” You snorted.

“Yeah. I kept you out of prison, remember?” Tommy joked.

You cracked a smile and Tommy’s smile widened in victory. Nima skipped back over and dropped into the seat on your other side. She pulled your hand into her lap and carefully unpeeled the cloth away. As Nima rewrapped your hand while Tommy criticized her technique and the two bickered over you. You couldn’t help but flex your hand when she finished.

“Come on, pinkie.” Tommy stood. “I’ll take you home.”

“Uh, I am not leaving my girl here alone.”

“Joel will be here soon.”

“Then I’m definitely not leaving her alone!”

You reached out to squeeze her wrist and gave her a reassuring nod, “I’ll be okay. Gotta talk to him eventually, right?”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t have to be right now.” Nima argued. You pulled her into a hug to reassure her once again. Maybe this was a bad idea, but you had just smashed a glass against a guy’s head so the degree of your bad ideas couldn't possibly get worse. Nima sighed and stood up too. “Okay. You’re sure you’re fine?”

Tommy clapped his hands. “Joel’s a few minutes away. But we can stay until he gets here if you want.”

“No.” You shook your head. The thought of being alone for a minute was kind of nice. “You guys go.” Your eyes locked onto Nima. “If you’re okay with him driving you.” You glanced at Tommy. “No offense.”

He held his hands up in surrender and shrugged nonchalantly. Nima nodded, “We survived a bar brawl together. We’re bonded.” She grinned and pulled her strawberry purse around her shoulders. “Plus, worse comes to worse, I can stab him.”

“You can what now?” Tommy questioned.

“You’ve already offered me a ride. It’s too late to back out now.”

“Fine, pinkie.” Tommy waved her to follow.

You watched them go and sunk in your seat. The sounds of the bar was decent background noise, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the noise in your head. You picked at the edges of the gauze wrapped around your hand. Your eyes felt heavy and if you weren’t careful you were going to pass out on this bar couch surrounded by strangers. It was the sound of a crash that startled you back into the moment, and when you looked up from your hand you realized the door had been thrown open hard enough to hit the wall. Joel stood in the doorway panicked and wild eyed. He wore a suit without the tie and his shirt was unbuttoned at the top.

You stayed silent, sinking further into your seat, and watched as Joel’s wide eyes scanned the room. His gaze finally landed on you, doing a double take, and when he realized where you were you saw his shoulders slump in relief. Joel jogged across the room until he was able to kneel down in front of you. Joel’s warm hands found your face, cupping it softly, as he sighed, “Sugar, what the hell is goin' on? Are you okay?” Joel’s eyes studied your face then glanced down at your hand. “Jesus, your hand. Tommy called me. Sugar, I⏤”

“I’m okay.” You whispered, throat growing tight, “I just wanna go home, Joel.”

Joel tensed and he nodded, “Yeah. Alright. Let’s get you home.”

The ride in the truck beside Joel may have been the most awkward and tense ride of your entire life. It was silent. The only sound coming from the road outside. Joel’s hands were white knuckled around the steering wheel. You assumed his tension had something to do with you ghosting him this evening. His truck pulled up outside your apartment complex and your alcohol soaked brain realized not only did you not have your keys but you also no longer had your phone. Both were sitting in Nima’s purse right now.

You opened the door fully prepared to sleep outside your apartment on the welcome mat like a lost dog, but Joel grasped you by the arm cautiously to hold you in place. “You got your key?” You twisted your lips knowing he wasn’t going to fall for a lie. “Where is your key?”

“With Nima.” You mumbled. “She has my phone too.”

Joel sighed and let go of you to instead grab the truck door and shut it. He buckled you back into the seat and began to drive once more. You wanted to ask where he was taking you, but none of the words would come out. You drowned in your indecision while picking at the bandage on your hand. Joel suddenly reached over and lightly pushed your hand away from the injury.

“Stop pickin' at it, sugar.”

“Where are we going?” You blurted.

Joel shifted in his seat, “My place.”

“I don’t wanna go to your place.” You mumbled.

“Don’t care.” Joel replied gruffly and you lifted your head to glare at his side profile.

The tone of his voice stirred something inside you, and you felt the dormant anger start to reawaken. It had gotten buried under everything that happened, but now it was back full fledged. You sat up, “Take me back. I want to go home.”

“You don’t have your key.”

“I don’t care.” You snapped. “Take me home, Joel!”

“You’re comin' to my place where I know you can safely sleep it off, 'nd then tomorrow we’ll figure out how to get ya back into your apartment. Understood?”

You scoffed, “Don’t talk down to me. I’m not a child, Joel.”

“Oh, you’re not?” Joel scoffed. His tone was angry and frustrated. “Cause you’re sure as hell actin' like one.” He shot a glare in your direction before focusing back on the road. “Are you outta your goddamn mind?! Do you know how worried I was?” You crossed your arms and stared out the passenger window. “I don’ hear from you all day long. You disappear on me with no explanation 'nd then I get a call from my baby brother that you’ve been in a bar fight? And that you’re hurt?!” You stayed silent and Joel scoffed. “And now I get the silent treatment? Very mature.”

“You don’t want to argue with me on what’s mature, Joel.” You said, head whipping back to glare at him.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean??”

“You’re a hypocrite!”

“Excuse me?”

You scoffed, “It’s not very mature for a married man to pay a sugar baby for attention.” Joel hit the brakes and the seat belt caught you as the truck screeched to a stop. You glanced out the window to see his truck had reached a neighborhood and the streets were mostly void of other vehicles. When you turned back to Joel, you found him staring at you in a mix of shock and horror. You shook your head, “What was I, Joel? Some kind of midlife crisis?”

Pain could be seen through the horror, and he reached out to grab your wrist again. “No. No, that’s not…” Joel’s voice was hoarse and broken. He whispered your name. “Please. That’s not what this is.”

You tugged your arm away from his grip. “I don’t wanna talk about this right now, Joel. Either start driving again or I’m gonna get out.”

Joel kept his hands to himself as he slowly went back to driving. As if the awkward silence hadn’t been painful before it was downright agonizing now. You were pressing your thumb into the wounds of your palm just to try and keep from crying. Joel pulled into the driveway a few minutes later, and you couldn’t even get your brain to collect a single feature of the house in front of you. Joel jumped out of the truck and you stayed frozen. The passenger door opened but Joel didn’t move to pull you out. He held the top of the door frame and a foot rested on the running board so he could lean in just marginally.

“Sugar…”

“Don’t, Joel.” You said firmly. “Don’t.”

“Please just let me⏤”

“Are you married?”

Joel’s face crumpled in agony and he hung his head, “It’s… It’s not that simple. Just let me⏤”

“It’s a yes or no question.” You shrugged and tried to ignore the tears welling up in your eyes.

Joel looked like he was on the verge of a panic attack. His eyes were squeezed shut, but he still refused to answer. You whispered his name. Finally, he lifted his gaze back to you and opened his mouth. His jaw hung open silently for a second before he could speak. “...Yes.”

You felt the tears lingering at the waterline drip down your cheeks and hastily began to wipe them away with your hands. Joel gasped and began to reach out but when you flinched he held back. He shook his head, “You’re bleedin'.”

The bandage around your hand was soaked with blood, probably from digging your thumb into the wounds, and when you felt your cheek with your fingertips they came back tinted red. You must have smeared it across your face.

“Sugar, let me… let me take you inside.” Joel murmured. “Please. I know you’re… upset, 'nd you have every reason to hate me right now, but… just let me get you inside.” His hand reached out for you once more, but he stopped himself. “You can leave in the mornin', but for tonight just⏤ just let me take care of you. Please.”

You gave a small nod. It felt weak of you, but you reassured yourself that you had little to no other option. Your hand hurt, your head ached, you were exhausted to your very being, and deep down you were torn between wanting to yell and scream or curl into a ball and cry. Joel took a few steps back to allow you to climb down yourself, but when you wavered his arms shot out to try and steady you. Joel herded you toward the front door without actually touching you.

Your eyebrows furrowed when you studied his front porch. The entire front of his house didn’t look like the typical rich LA style you were accustomed to seeing. In fact, his porch and front door reminded you of a quaint farmhouse. Joel unlocked his front door and held it open for you to walk in. Right inside the house, the foyer had an open style with a set of stairs pressed against the wall just up ahead. It opened straight into a large living room that evolved into a dining room with a matching open kitchen to the side. The entire back wall by the kitchen and dining area was made of glass but the back porch lights were off so you couldn’t see the view.

Joel tossed his keys into a bowl sitting on an accent table against the wall right by the door. You glanced over to a little bench built into the wall on the other side beneath a set of bay windows. The rest of his furniture from what you could see was modern and plain. You were drunk off alcohol and misery, but your brain was still able to take the time to note that Joel’s furniture didn’t match what you imagined him to have.

“C’mon.” Joel motioned you up the stairs. He followed after you and when you reached the top of the stairs he pointed to the left. You stepped into the master bedroom and Joel slid in past you moving straight toward the master bath. While he rooted around for something, you glanced around his room. There was a king sized bed sitting in the middle of the room covered in dark green sheets. A window sat on either side of the bed. The wall to the right was where the bathroom door and the closet door sat, but on the left was a single loveseat pushed against the wall. All the furniture was dark brown including the large dresser against the wall by the door and the smaller bedside drawers on either side of the bed under the windows. You drifted toward one of the bedside drawers where a photo was propped up. It was of Joel and two young girls. Joel had shown you enough pictures of Sarah and Ellie for you to recognize them, but in this photo all three of them were significantly younger.

The sound of a throat clearing made you look up to see Joel standing there with a first aid kit in hand. “Sit down for me?” You sat on the side of the bed and Joel sat beside you. He opened the kit then carefully unwrapped your hand. When he saw the three lines haphazardly cut into your palm he let out a soft hiss. “You hurtin' much?”

“It stings some.” You mumbled. He hummed in response and used an alcohol swab to clean up the cuts. Joel did so with soft touches and his eyes flickered to your features every second or so to check in on your status. You locked your jaw to bite back any sounds of pain that tried to slip out.

“They look bad, but I don’ think they’ll need stitches.” Joel thought out loud.

“Good.” You said. Joel grabbed some fresh gauze and began to wrap it around your hand. You studied his features as he focused so intently on the task at hand. His warm gaze was burned into your skin as his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. You had the urge to trace your fingers through the scruff along his jawline. When he finished, he lifted his gaze and his eyes locked with yours. The two of you stared at one another in tense silence. Pain and longing filled his brown eyes, and you wondered if it could somehow just be a reflection of your own. It made no sense for you to both be so miserable right now. “Where is she?”

Joel tensed, “What?”

“Where is your wife?” You asked more firmly.

“Are you sure you wanna get into this tonight?”

“I just want answers, Joel.” You sighed. “I need something. My mind has been a mess since we left Vegas.” Joel’s face crumpled as he closed his eyes with a sigh. “Yo-yo told me I wasn’t your first sugar baby and then she said you were married to your first sugar baby.” The words were falling out like pouring water now. “And then Nima has a cousin who has a cousin who has a friend or something that was able to find your marriage certificate⏤”

Joel murmured your name in reverence and opened his eyes. He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you from the start. That way there’d be no miscommunication or confusion. I meant to. But… I kept puttin' it off 'nd it got to the point where too much time had passed…” Joel hesitantly reached out for you and when you didn’t shy away he settled his hand on your arm. “I did have a sugar baby before you. It’s a… long story, but I am not married to her.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “You didn’t marry her?”

“No. Absolutely not. She was… Like I said, it’s a long story.” Joel squeezed your arm. “One that I promise to tell you. In the mornin', when you’re not half drunk 'nd half hungover all at once.”

“Then who the hell are you married to, Joel?”

“I… I am technically still married to Celina.” Joel finally spat the words out. You shook your head in confusion. The name was foreign to you, but Joel heaved another sigh and added, “Sarah’s mom.”

taglist (closed):

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✨J.M. Masterlist✨

#joel miller #sugar daddy!joel miller x reader #sugar daddy!joel miller #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #female reader #reader insert #take care of you

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triplesilverstar · 4 months

Text

Everyone needs an omega to make a trio, and yet you hate being one

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Pairing: Wolfwood X F!Reader, Vash X Wolfwood, Vash X F!reader

CW: Smut, Shameless Smut, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Verse, Blow Jobs, First Time Blow Jobs, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Penis In Vagina Sex, Oral Knotting, Knotting, Spitroasting, Creampie, Sex Toys, Condoms, Alternate Universe - Modern

Word count: Roughly 12.5K words

A/N: You were born an Omega, and you hate it. Having been able to hide it thanks to another orphan you grew up with, Nicholas D. Wolfwood, Nico, except now as an adult he's still helping you while trying to deal with keeping his Alpha Vash from meeting you. So what happens when it goes sideways when you try to return Nico's leather jacket to him, only to find Vash at the door of his Beta's apartment instead of Nico?

Oh. Vash is also getting ready to start his rut too. Aren't you a lucky one.

So. Never written something like this before so I tried my hand at it. I hope that you can at least enjoy this crazy smut filled thought all thanks to a friend of mine, a certain person that here goes by the name @awkwardchick87 . Thanks a lot Awks you horny person you.

“Harder Ni-” You let out a long moan as the man behind you increases the tempo of his hips slapping against yours. Your hands grip the pillow under your chest with enough force that the joints of your fingers hurt from the way you’ve stretched the fabric taut. The sound of squelching from your core and the wet slap of Nico fucking you like he plans to breed you has your blood pounding in your ears. The omega part of your brain has you squirming as it floods your system with the hormones from your heat. That’s exactly what it wants, to be bred. Your hatred for that feeling always rears its head after your heat passes.

A feeling that since you were fourteen you’ve hated because it makes you powerless. In a world where your secondary gender has so much sway, being an omega means to a large part of society you exist for one reason: offspring. Sure, not everyone saw omegas like that anymore, but you knew better from experience.

You had been an orphan, brought up by an organization that looked clean cut yet just under the surface you could see the rot. In your time under their care you had seen five other omegas have their first heat, and five times you saw them adopted within hours after a bidding war by rich old men who wanted an omega regardless of how old they were. You had been certain you were going to be next when you felt the first bubble of heat low in your belly.

“That hard enough, Darlin?” The deep husk from your savior has your cunt tightening around his length. Another orphan that had caught you stealing some of the suppressants kept for the alphas. An orphan that could have sold you out and instead helped you hide what you were.

One Nicholas D. Wolfwood.

Glancing upwards you look in the mirror on your dresser and let out a low whine as you glush another round of fluid. His tanned hide is covered in sweat that glistens in the hair of his chest as it rolls downwards along his well defined muscles, licking your lips as you try to gather your scattered mind to answer him. “Close-” Gasping when the tip of his cock hits your cervix, a noise that has him briefly grinning before closing his eyes.

Nico is a beta. And is the whole reason that, now in your mid-twenties, you haven’t been claimed by anyone forcefully. A few years older than you, he had been more than willing to keep your secret, even going out with the money from his part-time job to buy you the correct suppressants. Those first few years had been hell until you were eighteen and could go find a place of your own. That first night that you didn’t need to fear being sold off had been freeing. It wasn’t just the drugs he had bought for you either, Nico helped you get your first job, and your first apartment. Nico had, after you turned nineteen, learned you had to have a heat once in a while to let the medication to suppress it work properly so you didn’t turn into a puddle of hormones the second you missed a dose, been the one to help you through each and every one.

“Good” Grinding his teeth for a moment. “Because I’m soon gonna blow and I need a recovery period.” You let out another whine, this time because the omega part of your brain doesn’t like the sudden empty feeling in your core. Clenching around nothing you arch your body to raise your ass a little higher, as if you could tempt him back inside your slick walls. “Hang on Darlin.” Blinking you watch his motions in the mirror, as he grabs the thick ring that serves as a false knot and slides it down over his condom covered cock. He doesn’t need to be an alpha to put a pup in your belly.

“Nico!” Moaning this time your voice has a twinge of hoarseness to it, this is far from your first round this heat. “Fill me up! Please!” Tears prick your eyes as you watch him line himself up again, sweeping one of his large palms over the meat of one of your ass cheeks before giving it a slap.

“Patience Darlin, I’ll give you what you want. A nice big load of cum.” You both know it’s a lie. Arching more into him as he slams forward suddenly and you’re stuffed to the brim with his cock, the base of the toy hitting your entrance. It makes your toes curl, the simulated knot being worked more and more into your body with the snap of his hips. You catch his eye in the mirror as your walls start to flutter, a soft little moan echos around the room as he sends you a wink. His dark locks are plastered to his forehead with the effort he’s put into making you cum several times on his dick while holding off his own orgasm. His control is iron clad, it always has been. “You want my knot?” His voice is strained, no doubt ready to reach his own peak as he whispers it against your ear with both of his hands now planted over yours pulling them away from the pillow.

“Please Alpha!” You need it, need to feel that length and knot plunging into you freeze as you reach that plateau and fall over it. It’s words you’ve screamed before and Nico has never questioned it. As if he knows your rational mind is no longer the one in charge.

“Then take it all” Snapping his hips a final time and you shudder as you grip his cock and knot feeling your core flood for a different reason that makes your omega sigh in contentment. Nico takes every precaution to make sure he doesn’t empty his balls inside you, something the omega in you has never liked and delayed the end of your heat. The toy knot took care of that, the reservoir inside of it flooding your walls to simulate your partner spilling himself inside you.

“Nico” You whisper in the afterglow as your body relaxes, all tension washed away with your orgasm.

“You alright?” His hands are on your sides as he moves you so you’re both laying on your sides and spooning, his nose pressed into the back of your head as his fingers start to rub gentle circles into areas you both know will have bruises later.

“Hmmm” You know what he’s really asking as the omega side of your brain has released its hold on any higher level thinking, taking a breath as you take in how your body feels. “The churning in my belly is subsiding.”

“Good, because my dick is starting to hurt.” You chuckle at the playfulness of his complaint. A rustle and a bit more light appears in your peripheral, Nico has his phone. “This has been the longest one in a while, almost a full twenty-four hours.”

“I’m starting a new suppressant after this heat, the doctor said I was starting to metalobish the last one too quickly.” Nico had been the one to find you this doctor, most hadn’t wanted to prescribe any of the stronger ones to you. Instead, they had suggested you just find a mate and get to having pups. You were glad for the more progressive alpha who didn’t think you should be made to do something you weren’t ready for.

“On that note, how’s the datin going?” Another normal part of your post heat cooldowns, Nico and you talking about your lives.

“Terrible.” You snort. “Every date has either fallen off the cliff the moment it starts or at the end when they say they just want a little barefoot omega at home.” You weren’t against the idea of having pups, but you didn’t want to have them with someone who thought your place was to stay at home and always be pregant. You liked having a job, you liked having something to define you that wasn’t just your place at the bottom of the social ladder. “It’s not like finding Mr. Right is as easy as walking through a door.” Jerking your elbow back to hit Nico. “Serious how did you find your partner so easily?”

“He hit me with his car.” You roll your eyes, opening your mouth to respond as the phone in Nico’s hand starts to ring. “Speaking off.” Hitting the button he places it to his ear, well aware you’ll be quiet during his phone call. “Hey, Vash.” The difference in his tone as he starts chatting is evident, Nico might try to act like a stoic hardass but there’s no hiding that tenderness as the two talk. “Yea, I should be back in another few hours.”

You bite your lip hearing that statement. Nico has his own life to live and his own alpha to go home to at night. You try to sigh quietly, it’s something that’s been bothering you for a while. The fact that Nico still comes to help you with your heat when he has a pack of his own, sure it’s just the two of them but you can’t imagine his partner is happy knowing his beta runs off to fuck an omega once every few months.

“Someday you’ll meet her, Vash. Promise.” His hand is trailing along your side again as if he knew where your thoughts were going. “As always, she says thank you for letting me help her through this.” You hadn’t said it, but you sure felt it.

When Nico had first started dating this Vash person you had wanted to meet him, you still do. Nico however, put his foot down. “Neither of you have a mate yet, with my luck one of you would trigger the other and I’d have an omega and alpha trying to fuck with neither of them wanting it to happen because of biology.” You had learned that like you, Vash didn’t want to just mate the first omega he met that was unclaimed. You could respect that, even if it did make you a little jealous. Nico was so stubborn on the issue he didn’t want you to even hear one another’s voices.

“Alright, see you later.” A huff and you hear a much lower “Love you too.” Nico has the call ended before turning his attention back to you. “Does it still feel like your body is cooling down?”

“Yea. I think in another few minutes you can pull out and get going.”

“Not yet.” A quick press of his lips to the top of your head, the only place Nico ever kisses you. “You still need to be cleaned up and these bed sheets need to be changed, don’t need you sleeping in them and smelling like you’re still in heat.” You try to argue that you can do all of that yourself, and like always, you lose the argument. Nico is just too much of a caring beta to let you look after yourself after your heat. You’ll miss it when you start dating someone or his alpha stops him from coming to help you.

A few days later, while cleaning your room you spot it sticking out under the bed. Tugging it into view you frown. It’s Nico’s leather jacket, you remember him wearing it when he came to help you, he must have forgotten it after the haze of helping you fuck your brains out. Grabbing your phone to send him a quick text with an image attached.

Forget something?

I’ve been looking for that all day.

His response was almost immediate and you grin, typing back to him.

Want me to bring it to your place?

Please

See you soon then, unless it’s a bad time?

Nah, you’re good

With that you grab your shoes and purse along with his jacket before heading to his apartment.

Elsewhere, Nico placed his phone down before hearing a knock at his door and frowning. There was no way you were here already. Opening it, he blanched. “Vash.”

“Um, were you not expecting me?” The blond man has his head tilted as if in surprise. “I thought you were the one who suggested us trialing living together?”

Slamming a hand to head Nico groaned. “I did, but I thought you’d be at work for another few hours. Shit, I need to text someone.” Turning to grab his phone while Vash followed him in a large bag slung over his shoulders.

“Is this a bad time?” Vash, while he has all the physical appearances of an alpha almost never acted like one. Preferring to act more meek, something that in the past once had someone confuse him for an omega when he was a child. That had been a sight when Vash had kicked the man to the curb along with his twin. Vash wasn’t violent by nature, but the alpha in him did not like being compared to anything but what he was.

“No. Just, I left my coat at my friend's and she’s bringing it over. I need to meet her somewhere else.” Bitting his lip as Nico sent out a flurry of quick texts to you before looking for his shoes to pull on.

“Oh, the little omega you help?” It sets a small churning in his gut, Vash is aware he’s very much in love with the tan man. He knows the reason Nico helps out his friend and some of the things that had happened at the orphanage when you had both been younger. It just doesn’t help soothe the alpha in his head who wants to keep his beta in his bed. Giving his head a small shake to rid himself of the thoughts that were starting to intrude. Thoughts that when he voiced them to Nico were shut down before they could manifest into anything. “I understand, and I’ll see you when I get back.”

Nico stops before he leaves, pressing his body to Vash’s and going in for a searing kiss that leaves both of them weak in the knees. “I’ll be back soon, then we can get you settled for that oncoming rut.”

Vash can’t help but smile as Nico steps outside, touching his fingers to his lips with his heart warm. Of course his beta remembered the other reason for him coming to stay over, they might have been together for a while but adapting to a shared space was still something they were both working on.

Climbing the stairs to Nico’s apartment you check your phone, sending him a text saying you were almost there. You had sent him one when you got off the train too which is currently saying is gone unread, that isn’t normal for Nico when he knew you were coming. Maybe he was having a nap while waiting? Shrugging your shoulders as you reached the landing for his floor and headed to knock on the thick door.

Quirking your nose as you wait for Nico to answer the door you can’t help but notice the whiff of something different in the air. Maybe the building has a new cleaning agent being used for the hallways? Tilting your head, it smells nice in a very subtle kind of way.

Hearing the door crack you turn with a grin. “Here’s your jack-” It isn’t Nico at the door, taking a step back you look at the door again. You have the right apartment. “You aren’t Nico.” It tumbles from your lips before you can realize how rude it sounds.

“No, I’m Vash.” You’re floored. This is the man Nico is dating? He looks like a total sweetheart with his golden blond hair and wide orbs. You can’t tell with the lighting if they’re blue or a shade more like aqua but you know one thing, you feel at ease with the way he’s looking at you. “You must be…” Trailing off as he thinks before he says your name and you nod.

“That’s me! I didn’t think I’d run into you.” Tucking your hair behind your ear before you remember the reason you came. “Right, here’s Nico’s coat! He must have fallen asleep or something.” Handing it to him you feel your face heating up for some reason. Well, you have a good assumption of the reason with the way Vash is looking at you. Like he’s sizing you up and you can’t help the flush. You are the reason his beta disappears for hours, almost days sometimes. Maybe he’s trying to figure out if you’ll somehow pull Nico away from him. It’s a laughable thought, Nico has always been more like a family member. No matter how much you sometimes wished he was interested in your that way.

“He stepped out actually. Would you like to come inside?” You aren’t sure why, maybe something about him is just calming as you nod. Once the door is open large enough for you to step inside you do just that. Following him into the space that leads almost immediately to the kitchen.

With his back to you, you don’t notice the deeper inhale Vash makes with the coat just under his nose. The scent has him blinking rapidly as the alpha in his mind roars. He can smell the lingering scent of an omega prime for breeding. The rational part of his brain knows it's from days ago, but to the part of him that was stirring to start his rut, it doesn’t matter.

“You know it’s a little strange to meet you at last, with how adamant Nico was about us not meeting.” Turning back towards you, Vash has to suppress the low growl deep in his throat. You look so… so… tempting as you rub the edge of your ear as if pushing some of your hair back behind the shell of it once more. Is the real reason Nico didn’t want the two of you to meet? Did he just want to keep you for himself? Glancing down to your stomach and wondering if his beta didn’t have a pup growing inside of you. No. The smell from the jacket hangs in the air, tricking his mind into thinking you’re still in heat.

“He kept saying it was because he was afraid one of us would trigger the other. I wonder if it was because he wanted to keep you away from me.” Vash, was a rational man. He spent his life making his own decisions and one of them was that he never wanted to take an omega by force or overpower their senses with his scent. Right now, however, with your scent on the air laced with his beta’s and his rut starting he was anything but in his right mind. Starting to let his scent gland flood the kitchen with his own unique smell, watching as you blinked in a way that seemed cute to him as you tried to process his words.

“I mean, Nico just wants people to…” You trail off as your mind feels a little fuzzy. Licking your lips as your core throbs and you feel the slick starting to form in your walls. What is wrong with you? You just had your heat?

Blinking again, you find your back pressed against the door of the pantry and Vash pressed to your front with Nico’s jacket just under your nose. “Why do you smell so fertile? So breedable ?”

A short breath in, and under the cloying scent slowly encapsulating your senses you smell it. The smell of your slick laced with hormones from your heat. Your mind replays the scene in your head like a video reel.

The moment Nico stepped into your bedroom you had been on him, naked as you whined with your hands on his shoulders. “Nico! Please I need you!” Panting as you rubbed your body against him before he chuckled.

“Not even going to let me get undressed before I make you cum?” Grinning as one of his hands tangled in your hair and the other ran down your side. “So needy little omega.” Jerking your hips forward as those large digits of his play with your sex, smearing your fluids around your folds and up to your clit. Sinking one of his fingers up to the knuckle, the leather of his jacket sliding across your dripping hole as your body arched into his. “Let’s get that first one of the way shall we?”

The fluid had since dried, but Vash could still smell it, and now so could you. “I’m not, Vash, the smell is from my heat. I’m not in heat anymore.” Trying to get the words out as your brain grows fuzzier.

“Really? Is that because my beta fucked his pup into you?” Growling as he hisses the words in your ear you find your core clenching at how harsh his tone is. “Nico knows I want a pup one day, but I want us to find an omega we’re both attracted to. One that’s attracted to us.” As quickly as you had been forced against the door, you find yourself free again with Vash stepping further away from you with a hand to his head. “You need to leave.” Giving his head a shake. “My rut is starting and I’m not in control. It’s taking everything to not take you and I don’t want to force you.” The smell that was starting to permeate the air fades, not a lot but enough for the fuzz to leave your mind as you realize it was from Vash.

You watch as his back hits the counter, letting the jacket fall from his fingers as he swallows and the smell of him fades more as he tries to reel himself back in. “What do you mean an omega you’re both attracted to?” You feel so confused, Vash is attracted to you right now because of his rut but your feet are firm on the ground. Nico isn’t attracted to you.

“Nico wants you, but he won’t say it.” Seeing those wide eyes peek at you from behind his fingers as he tries to slow his breathing. “He won’t talk about it, but he’s afraid your feelings for him are out of gratitude.” Panting now as he pulls his hand away. “He wants you as badly as I do right now, he’s too afraid you’ll see it as him having groomed you to be his.”

“That doesn’t make sense, he’s always pushing me away.” You blurt, all the dates he’s pushed you into going on. Except. It does make sense. You’re well aware of your own attraction to Nico, something you’ve shoved down for a while because you thought he didn’t care about you that way, in retrospect you were on the far side of the spectrum for knowing his true feelings. You’re a bit of an idiot. “I’m so stupid.”

“You’re not.” Vash moves closer, trailing one of his hands along your chin to tilt your head upwards to look into his eyes. “From what I hear you’re very smart, the head is just good at keeping the heart in check.” Like this you can see his pupils are blown wide again, swallowing as you realize that maybe, you don’t want to leave this apartment and this charming alpha.

“What do you want?” Your tongue feels thick in your mouth as you speak, watching his face for any sign that he’s playing you. You don’t know him well enough for his tells, but deep down you’re certain you want what you think he’s offering.

“Easy. I want to be happy, and I want Nico to be happy. We both make him happy, so I want you to join us.” Dipping his head down for a kiss that while it feels chaste has your head spinning, working his plush lips against yours and swiping his tongue along the seam of your mouth before pulling back. “I want both of you in my bed, I want both of you to be mine. I want you to be as possessive of me and Nico as he is of you.” You don’t miss the unspoken words. Vash is possessive of Nico and by extension, you. “Now my rather cute little omega, do you want to stay here with me and let me breed you, or do you want to leave? I promise we can pick up this conversation another time when my head isn’t screaming to just fuck you over the dinner table and force you to be ours.”

Ours. Not his. A very clear distinction in your mind and it's one that has your heart thundering in your chest. Licking your lips at the offer and his option to let you walk away and talk about it another time. “You’d just let me walk away?” Your hand is slowly creeping up his chest, feeling the muscles under his t-shirt. He feels solid and warm under your fingertips, like he's burning up under the thin layer of cotton.

“I would.” Slotting his hips forward and rubbing up against you, the bulge in his pants grinding against your covered sex and belly. “At least until my rut is over, then I'll be dragging Nico with me to see you and for us to have a conversation when my hormones aren't running rampant.” Tilting his head once more as his lips descend towards you, except he doesn't kiss you this time. Keeping just enough distance that you can feel his labored breath washing across your face, laced with just a hint of the pheromones from his rut. “We're running out of time, if you're going to leave you need to do it soon.”

It's like time slows with his comment, you're hovering on the edge aware that he's left the decision up to you. Your mind is spinning lost in your own swirling thoughts about Vash's offer and all the times you've been with Nico and purposely ignored the undercurrent of his feelings. What you keep coming back to is simple. Vash is willing to let you walk away. He might not be saying it but you both know what it means, he might want you but he's willing to let you go, fully aware that while he deals with his rut you could find another alpha. That if that did happen, Nico and Vash would lose the chance to even try and bring you into their pack.

“I want this.” The smallest movement on your part and you're the one instigating the kiss this time, almost melting into Vash as he quickly takes the lead dominating you. A growl from him as his hands slide up your ribs, pushing the fabric of your top up with it. While you've certainly kissed someone before, you've never delved too far past just tentative licks to your partner's lips. Or them doing it to you. Maybe because deep down, you always wanted to kiss Nico, to feel his stubble crusted chin against your face. So when Vash starts trying to work his tongue into your mouth, you part your lips and let out a noise of surprise. It's a different sensation as the wet muscle glides across your teeth, sweeping into the space as if trying to coax you to respond in kind. Your brain is going haywire from the way he slides his tongue and you try to tentatively press back, an action that rewards you with a deep rumble from within the blond's chest.

Letting out a soft whine when he pulls back, at least before you realize your chest was heaving as you tried to suck in air to alleviate the burning in your lungs. Slowly blinking as you become more aware of your surroundings, no longer sensing just the hammering of your heart and the pounding of your blood in your ears. At some point during the kiss, both of your hands had moved to tangle in his hair. It's so soft, almost like the feathery down of a bird.

“Why do I feel that was your first real kiss?” Resting one of his arms above your head as he pants the question between nips to the corner of your mouth. His other hand has slipped under your shirt, his fingers ghosting along the material of your bra. Still trying to catch your breath and let your brain catch up to process the question you moan as his fingers squeeze one of your fabric covered breasts. “I asked a question, and I expect an answer omega.”

You shouldn't find it as hot as you, but the low growl as he referred to you by your caste has your heart beating a mile a minute and a warmth spreading in your belly. “No, alpha.” The rumble from his chest at you referring to him as such has your knees trembling, if he didn't have you wedged between him and the wooden door you're certain you'd have fallen to the floor.

“You mean to tell me.” Rolling his lower body so his cock is firmly against your belly, the heat through the fabric has slick pouring from you like a tap. “In all the years Nico has helped you with your heats, he never once kissed you?” His voice is so deep you could almost feel it in your bones, nodding before giving him a verbal answer.

“Never. Nico wouldn't even let me try anything.” Turning to slide the tip of your nose against his while your hands keep playing with the shorter strands of his hair. “He'd just please me, he'd never let me return the favor.” For the longest time, it had bothered you, now you know why. If you didn't get to touch him he could pretend he wasn’t attracted to you like he was.

“Have you only been with Nico?”

A loaded question, but you have no issue answering it. “Only Nico.” The tanned man had been your first and only for so many things. The thought of it has you rocking your body back in response.

He's grinning, a quick lick of his lips and a glint in his eyes. “You've never sucked Nico off?” You shake your head in a gentle negative, feeling more than seeing his arm move from the place above your head. “Never enjoyed the taste as he sent a searing load down your mouth? Never felt your throat convulse while he held you in place with his balls against your chin?” Another shake of your head in the negative, inhaling deeply you can smell his scent starting to flood the room. Your belly feels like an inferno is starting to rage inside of it, the slick from your weeping cunt has seeped into your underwear making the fabric stick to your skin. All because of his voice, so deep as it rumbles out of him.

“Today you are!” His fingers hook into the hem of your shirt, ripping it up and away from your body. The force of it has your fingers tugged away from his hair, so you do what the quieter part of your brain is whispering. You grab his shirt as well, yanking the fabric up and letting out a soft noise of appreciation for the skin on display.

He's so different from Nico with his tanned skin and the thick patches of hair along his chest. Vash, is pale and covered in scars, the tip of your fingers tracing one of the larger ones. It doesn't take away from how attractive he is, at least not to you. It makes you wonder what kind of life he's lived up to this point, the jagged lines tell you one thing for certain about his story. He's a survivor. He'll come back time and time again for Nico and you.

“Do you like what you see?” Growled in your ear as he paws at the snaps of your bra like the garment offends him. A noise of triumph from him once the lined material falls away and he can grasp the smooth skin in one of his long-fingered hands. “I certainly do.”

“You're handsome.” You whisper before his mouth slots against yours, emboldened by the previous kiss and the haze from his scent starting to flood your senses you find yourself moving your tongue against his. It's not smooth, or coordinated as you feel the saliva from your sloppy attempt drip from the edge of your lips and down your skin. If anything it seems to drive Vash wilder as his hand rolls the mass of your tit around your chest, his palm gliding over your hardening nipple as his free hand works at the fastener of your pants.

The rational part of your mind is growing more and more silent as the kiss goes on, the taste of a cloying sweetness added to the smell of his musk and the sweat starting to form on his skin. The omega part of your brain is screaming to move faster, to let this alpha fill you to the bursting. You had read of alphas that could pull an omega into heat, and had even heard stories of some triggering heats just with a passing hint of their scent. Vash, has done just that. Your body doesn't seem to care that it just went through a heat cycle, that it isn't actually fertile right now. The churning of your stomach that always comes with your heat and the throbbing of your core is almost painful, but you want it. No. You need it.

Gasping into Vash's mouth as his fingers work their way down your open slacks and trail against the soaked fabric of your underwear. Another rumble from him as his knuckles press against your slit, tracing the opening that is gushing fluid to prepare you to take him. You're going to need all the benefits of your heat if the heaviness under your hand and trapped inside his pants are anything to go by. Giving it a quick squeeze earns you a long growl with the gnashing of his teeth as his head snaps back from your mouth.

“You make me want to ram my cock down that throat of yours.” Grabbing both of your hands in one of his as he works his belt free before working on the zipper keeping his length hidden from view. “I was going to have you on your knees to undress me, but after that little stunt I can't wait.” Shoving his pants and underwear to the floor, your core lets out another flood of liquid. The tip of his cock is gleaming under the natural light flooding into the kitchen, the length of him is covered in fluid and you wonder how long he's been pumping pre cum from the opening on his dick.

Vash smiles at the way your lips parted when his cock bobbed free from his pants, he knew he wasn't massive compared to some alphas but from the way you were drooling his inner alpha was preening in delight. You were perfect, and he was about to be the first to fuck that pretty mouth of yours.

“On your knees omega, and open wide.” You drop as soon as you hear the words, opening your lips as wide as you can and sticking your tongue out. “Such a good girl.” Vash had let go of your hands at some point, you aren't sure when too focused on his length and the thought of it being inside of you. Humming in delight as one of his hands lands atop your head, watching and waiting as he wraps his fingers around his base before guiding his cock closer to your lips. “Stay just like that.” Tapping the head of his cock against your tongue smirking as he does so, the look in his eyes has your toes tingling and the fire inside of you building hotter and hotter. It’s almost burning you alive, and the heat coming from the head of his cock isn’t helping. Tasting the salt from his leaking dick almost made you cum on the spot.

Making a soft whine Vash pauses to tilt his head at you as if thinking of something. “You probably don’t know much of what to do for a blow job do you?” Rocking on his heels so his shaft slides along your tongue and partially into your mouth. “Today, I’ll show you the basics, but after this I expect you to do the work when I want you to suck me or Nico off.” You let out another whine, you do know the basics of how a blow job works, you’ve watched porn. This, however, still turns you on, watching his stomach move closer and closer to your face as he works more of his length into your mouth. Even with his slow and gentle pace, it doesn’t take long before your lips are stretched around his girth with fluid, a mix of your spit and his pre cum dripping from the corners of your mouth.

Both of his hands and on your head now, his thumbs near your jaw as he starts to increase the tempo of his movements. It feels so deprived having your mouth used by Vash, almost dirty, your pussy is a mess of fluid and you’re certain at this point you have drenched your panties and your pants. You don’t know what to do with your hands, and Vash didn’t say you could or couldn’t move them, feeling your fingers ball into fists before you force them to relax. Letting out a choked noise when his tip hits the back of your throat, your lips pressed firmly to his balls, and something is swelling inside your mouth.

A delayed reaction, you know what it is. “Fuck, omega, you look so good with my knot inside your mouth.” Gagging as he moves with shallow thrusts so he doesn’t have to remove the mass that would have locked his dick inside of your walls. “In through your nose.” As much as his thrusts are shallow, he’s picked up speed, your throat convulsing around him as tears start to drip from your eyes along with drops from your nose joining the rest of the mess on your face.

It’s too much.

You never want it to stop.

“You’re doing so good.” Panting Vash watches your face, feeling the swirling in his stomach and the spamming of the muscles of his abdomen as he holds himself back from fucking your mouth with abonden. “Can’t wait.” A groan that sounds more like growl rings out past his lips. “To tell Nico” His balls are starting to tighten, hitting the bottom of your mouth with the swing of his hips. “I got to cum down your throat first.” Letting out a roar as he jerks his hips and places more pressure on the back of your head, the feeling of your throat massaging his length and knot pushing him into his first orgasm.

As the first thick splash of his cum hits the back of your throat you moan around him, it’s almost searing, and with his knot just past your lips, your only option is to swallow it down. Involuntary jerking your hips as you work, your body trying to chase its own release as your sense of taste is overwhelmed by the salty fluid still coming from him. “Every drop Baby, drink every drop.” Cooing almost as his fingers play with your hair, watching as choke on his cock and seed. The wire inside your body has grown so tight yet you can’t seem to find release, the omega in you screaming to do as your alpha wants and drink his seed down like a wine and maybe you’ll find that edge.

Eventually, the spurts slow, until a final trickle is all that’s left. “You did so good.” A long drawn out sigh as Vash says your name, using his fingers to work your jaw open to pull out his partially deflated knot. Lowering himself to his knees to take in the sight of your blissed out face and noticing your gentle rocking. Your mind is lost, trying to figure out how to get rid of the burning inside of you without the alpha before you aiding you in your pleasure. You don’t want him to be upset with you. “Open your eyes.”

You don’t remember closing them. Blinking you react, closing the distance to kiss him and rub your still clothed core against any part of him you can reach. If Vash minds the taste of his cum in your mouth, he doesn’t show it, plunging his tongue into the space as if it was still his cock fucking your mouth. You’ve never felt so alive as you do like this, like you’re hyper aware of each and every fiber in your being while you rock your body more against his.

“You’re a needy little thing aren’t you.” Tugging your head away from his lips with your hair trapped in his fingers. Opening your eyes at the teasing in his voice once more and blinking slowly before licking your lips, letting the point of it peak out past the edge of your lip.

“I’m so desperate.” Aware of his eyes falling to your tongue, watching the way his pupils widen. “I need to cum so bad it hurts alpha.” Tacking on a whine at the end, you’ve never had to beg like this before, not with how quickly Nico would tend to your needs. You really are desperate, desperate enough that the smell of the impromptu heat you’ve gone into is starting to flood the apartment with Vash’s scent.

“You just want to cum?” Smirking as his cock starts to stir once more, Vash has never needed too long of a recovery period. Knowing your only partner has ever been Nico takes the way you're acting away from the realm of an omega wanting to manipulate him into one where you are simply desperate for him. Another thing that has his inner alpha preening, you’re doing this for him and him alone. He can smell your body on the air and it’s one of the sweetest scents to ever grace his nose. Giving his lips another lick as he gives your body another tug to create a barrier between your bodies of open air.

“No!” Your hands are scrambling trying to touch more of his flesh, wanting to be close to him as your clit throbs. “I want you inside me alpha!” A pathetic murmur that can’t quite be called a whine as you claw for him in the air. “I want your knot!”

“I was just inside you, did you forget?” Vash can’t believe the change in your personality from when you first walked in the door. That shy little omega washed away under the effect of his hormones. Well, and perhaps your own too. Watching you writhe as you try to get closer to him without tugging too hard against his grip on your hair.

“Alpha please!”

“Please what?” Vash is loving this, watching your eyes blink rapidly as your bruised lips part and your brain scrambles to find the words. “Tell me what you want, use your voice little omega and I’ll give you what you want.”

“I want your knot in my cunt!” Practically screaming the words at him as the pinprick of tears almost becomes too much for you to handle.

“Just my knot?” Asking his question as his hands grab the edges of your pants, pulling them down your legs after pushing you onto your back and slightly away from him. A long inhale and his cock twitches between his thighs, with nothing to hide your sex the smell of your slick is thicker.

“Cum too! I want your cum alpha!” It’s like you’ve said the magic words, the last of the fabric encasing your legs removed along with the soaked material that had once been your underwear.

Flipped onto your stomach with a hard slap to your ass that makes you whine, feeling the skin warm from the harsh impact. “You’ll have it. Now put that rear end of yours in the air.” It’s a command, and the wire that’s coiled tightly in your belly grows ever more tighter. Struggling to get to your knees with the fire inside you, aware of your slick dripping down your thighs and onto the floor.

Vash licks his lips once more at the sight, to think his beta was hiding you from him. All the fun the three of you could have been having with how much fluid is pooling on the floor. Lowering his head to the space between your thighs and taking a deep inhale, the scent driving him wild. A quick hard lick from your clit to the edge of your opening and he lets out a long hum, his brain processing the fluid laced with hormones. You taste so perfect to him, but you are missing that tang of being fertile. Something his inner alpha doesn’t like, it wants to put a pup in your belly and you won’t be able to make use of his seed.

Pausing as his brain tries to make sense after smelling Nico’s jacket earlier and now the confirmation of what his rational side already knew. A soft whine and a shake of your shapely rear bring him back to the present. “Alpha please, I need you!” A choked-out sob and he smiles, one filled with teeth and a bout of possessiveness, he might not be your first but he is about to be the first, and only, alpha to feel those sweet sweet walls of yours.

Shuffling on his shins to get closer to you, Vash lines the tip of his cock up with your slit moving it against your folds a few times and groaning at the whimpers coming from you that sound oh so pretty to his ears. “Beg.” One word. One command.

Vash doesn’t have to wait long.

“Please Vash! Please alpha, I need you to breed me!” Your control and sense of shame snapped a while ago. Probably when he was pouring his cum down your throat, your voice sounded nothing but broken and desperate as you begged for Vash.

“Good girl.” His hips surged forward and you both cried out as he went as deep as he could on the first thrust. Your hands shake from the effort of trying to remain in your position as he stretches you out with his cock. He feels so different from Nico and his veiny dick, at the same time you squirm as the shape of Vash’s length hits different places inside of you.

Vash. Feels like he’s in heaven, his shoulder blades arching back at the slick, tight walls surrounding his body. The pull of your inner muscles as you try to somehow take him in even deeper, has him groaning. If you hadn’t of sucked him off he has no doubt his knot would have swelled immediately to send ropes of cum into you. Glad he’ll get to give you a proper fuck before pumping you full. One of his hands lands on the small of your back, sweeping over the curve of your body as he waits for you to adjust, ignoring the sound of a ringing phone in the background. “Just a little more, and I’ll breed you just like you deserve.” Chuckling as your walls tighten around him at his words.

Nico is panicking. Running his fingers through his sweat-laced hair as he taps his foot on the bus trying to get closer to his apartment.

When he got off at the stop near the coffee shop the two of you normally meet at he realized he messed up. In his flurry to text you, he had accidentally turned his phone to airplane mode, and those messages hadn’t been sent. Biting his thumb as he paced waiting for it to reconnect and seeing two new messages come in from you he felt his stomach drop to his shoes.

You were already at his apartment. “Fuck!” Screaming while ignoring the people around him sending him glares from his outbursts he bolted towards the bus stop checking the online schedule to see if he should just start running. Luck for the first time today was on his side, the bus had just arrived and he was quick to dart inside.

Now standing by the doors to get off at the closest stop to his home he’s back to biting his thumb nail. Every message he’s sent you has gone unread. It’s the same for Vash. “Shit, you two.” Switching tactics Nico hits the call button for Vash, praying to whatever power might be listening for his alpha to answer.

You feel like you’re in agony, torn between being satisfied with Vash deep in your cunt stuffing you to the brim, and wanting him to move to finally help you find your release. Every muscle in your body is tense while the arousal flooding your system wants nothing more than for that fine line to snap and send you into blissful oblivion.

Letting out a soft whine before biting your lip, you know begging isn’t going to get you what you want right now. A small shift from Vash and your entire body trembles, panting at just how good he feels without moving. “Almost ready, you just need to relax a little more.” His voice is strained, something you might have missed if you weren’t paying such close attention to each thing he did.

Swallowing you try to will your body to do just that, trying to let the tension fade. It’s almost impossible. Your body is so wound up it refuses to relax, it wants to be pounded into slumping to the ground while Vash pumps his seed inside your walls.

Watching you Vash bites his lips, you’re just so tight and he can’t help but wonder if it’s because of your recently passed heat. If your body wasn’t trying to recover. Glancing to the oven he lets out a small noise.

Nico should be back soon.

Vash, very much wants you locked onto his knot when that happens, suspecting the beta would come bursting in and trying to separate the two of you. Honestly, he reasons in his own head, he’s doing this to make the three of you happy. Giving your side a squeeze he weighs his options. You’re still so tight, but he needs to move.

“I’m going to give you what you want, it might hurt, but we can tend to that later.” Bending forward and pressing a soft kiss to the center of your back. Upright once more, Vash starts to pull his cock from the warm confines of your body all the way to his tip. He can feel the churning in his gut once more, well aware his balls are filled to the brim again after that first load he shot off. “Now be a good omega and take what I give you.” Ramming his hips forward at a blistering pace with his head thrown back Vash starts breathing through his mouth, you feel so good surrounding him, like you were made for him.

You start breathing like you’re running a race as soon as Vash starts hammering into your core, all of this movement so quickly as the head of his cock hits your cervix with each and every thrust you can’t help but whine his name between breaths. A chorus of Vash and alpha litters the air as he spares your body no thought of comfort, lost in the feeling of your walls clamping down around his length. You’re not in any better state, the omega in your head screaming in delight at the treatment. You hate to admit it, but you’ve always loved when Nico would fuck you rough and hard during your heats. Of the three, betas are the caregivers, the ones that look after the other two. The bridge between them. You love Nico, but the omega in you loves the feeling of Vash plunging into your slick walls even more.

It isn’t long before you feel a mass starting to press against your core, a warm as it hits your opening but not quite breaching you. One of your arms shakes from the increased effort of keeping your body upright so Vash can keep slamming into you with abandon. Licking your lips as the sweat dripping down your body makes the tiles harder to put your weight on. Your heart is pounding inside of your chest once more, and the fire in your core has been stoked to levels you didn’t think were even possible. All because of the man behind you who is moving with the intention of breeding you. Gasping as the mass hits your folds a little harder, his knot wants in and he is bound and determined to lock you to his body.

“Vash!” Crying out at another harder hit, your arms finally give out and you fall forward with your face pressed to the puddle of your own mixed fluids. His grip on your hips grows tighter, and you glance upward catching the reflection of the two of you on the surface of the stainless steel fridge. You look like a mess, draped across the floor while Vash looks feral with the pistoning of his body trying to drive his knot past that tight ring of muscles. It feels so much better than the toy used to trick you. Your eyes are slow to process his hand lifting to harshly slap one of your butt cheeks once more.

“Wrong.” Panting and you can almost see the exhale from his exterion. “Name.” Grunting as his hand returns to your hip he sets a blistering pace, the sound of wet skin on skin echoing in the space as his knot starts to slide into your core. “Who’s breeding you?” His words are fast, and you catch your mistake.

“Alpha!” Screaming it as his hips snap forward with enough force to finally push his knot through the muscles of your slit and locks your bodies together. His voice joins yours as he screams an answering cry of omega, and you could swear you heard another, very familiar voice scream your name.

You freeze and feel your body spasm with enough force that your vision fades to white as Vash does exactly as promised flooding your womb with his seed that has nowhere to go with his knot blocking your opening.

Nico takes the stairs two at a time, racing up them to his floor. The sense of trepidation grows as he catches a familiar whiff closer to the landing. It’s your scent. “Fuck!” Launching himself up the final stairs, his heaving chest taking in more oxygen.

His senses might not be as sharp as yours or Vashs, but he knows the scent of a rut and heat well enough. Especially when they both belong to the only two people he’s ever truly loved.

Almost ripping his doors from the hinges to freeze in the opening to his apartment at the sight before him. Clothes strew about the kitchen in haphazard piles with two bodies intertwined. Watching with his jaw open as the sound of you screaming reaches his ears before you slump to the ground, Vash behind you and the scream he wasn’t aware he made falls on passed-out ears.

Vash is panting like he’s run a marathon, one arm moving to wipe the sweat from his face and flicking his soaked blond locks from his eyes. Setting those bright orbs on Nico’s face and licking his lips. “You’re back.” Tilting his head with a smile that makes the tanned man shudder. “Now close the door beta, and come help me breed our omega.”

Turning as if underwater, Nico realizes he’s been standing there with the door wide open, too lost in shock at the scene that had been playing out in front of him to notice. You don’t need the embarrassment of being seen by his building naked. Stepping inside, Nico swallows. If he was anything but a beta it would have been a mistake, his apartment reeks of the musk of sex and hormones.

“Please tell me you didn’t knot her?”

“Tsk, tsk Nico.” One of those long digits in the air as Vash waves it as if speaking to a child. “Of course I did, but only because she asked me.”

“Vash-” It starts out as a growl before Vash sets his shoulder and cuts him off.

“Beta. If you had gone to her with my proposal this could have been settled a while ago. You don’t get to grouse about it now, it isn’t like I forced her.” Wiggling his eyebrows at the end before gesturing to Nico’s crotch. “Besides, it looks like you seem rather turned on by the thought of her being ours at last.”

Nico, doesn’t need to look down. Not when he can feel exactly how tight his jeans are. It’s no use trying to argue that he isn’t turned on by the sight of the two of you locked together, but it doesn’t mean he needs to be happy about how it came about. The scathing remark he opens his mouth to make lost to the sound of Vash cooing your name.

“Looks who finally showed up.” You’re awake once more, slowly pushing your body up which is hard with the way you feel. It’s like your bones have turned to jelly and you’re floating underwater as you roll your neck languidly while a palm goes to your belly. You can feel Vash still locked against you, his hot cum sticking to your wall has you shivering from the pleasure. You could certainly go for another round of that before the day is out. Letting Vash use his hand to guide your head to look where he wants, you smile as you slump backward, a warm chest pressed to your back as Vash adjusts both your bodies.

“Nico! I brought your coat back” Giggling as Vash makes another minor adjustment, ensuring the tan beta has a perfect view of the bulge just above the opening to your sex and where Vash is connected to you. “Oh, and I met Vash.” Another giggle, almost as if you’re drunk as you try to hide behind your hand. “He’s wonderful.”

“Hear that Nico? I’m wonderful.” Pressing his lips to your shoulder and planting a small trail of kisses.

“Oh! But you are too Nico! You should come closer so I can kiss you.” Reaching out one of your hands towards him leaves Nico reeling. He’s never seen you this out of it, but the twitching of his cock in his pants tells him his body doesn’t mind.

“You want to kiss me?”

“Of course silly! I’m your omega, and you’re my beta. Why wouldn’t I want to kiss you?” You say it almost as if you’re speaking to a child, that soft smile still on your face that has Nico entirely disarmed. “And Vash is our alpha, so come join us! Plus I wanna tease you after learning you were afraid I loved you for the wrong reasons.”

The dark haired man finds his chest suddenly full of pain like a hand has reached through the sinew of his body and wrapped around his heart and started to squeeze. The phrasing of your words has him shocked. Did you just say you loved him? “You sound a little drunk.” It’s blunt and to the point, you don’t seem very much like yourself right now.

“I’m not” It doesn’t seem all that believable to him when you start giggling again.

“I think, my caring beta, our omega is high on whatever hormones her body is pumping out to counteract any of the pain she might be feeling.” Vash still has his lips near the side of your neck, his hands wandering along your sides. “She’s in a false heat after her real one, if I had to guess she’s still recovering from that.”

“She isn’t ours Vash.” Grinding his teeth Nico is finding this situation harder and harder to ignore. The more he hears from the two of you, the more he just wants to give in to accept that you’re here with him and Vash.

“She wants to be.” Lifting his head and letting the point of his chin land in the muscles of your shoulder, a pleased little hum coming from you at Vash remaining so close. “I told her she could leave and we could talk about this when my rut was over.” Shrugging his shoulders before making a small adjustment again, once that makes you let out a soft moan feeling another stream of cum pour from his slit. “She decided to stay.”

“Nico, please.” You can feel Vash still hot and heavy deep inside your walls, the difference between a simulated toy and a real knot evident as he keeps making more cum shoot inside your body. You know his knot will soften at some point, but right now with how tight you are his sex is reacting to your own clamping around it. “You’re starting to make me think staying was a bad idea.”

The soft whine that echos around the space does Nico in. He might have his reservations but the noise you made just has the caregiver in him quaking, you’re starting to look dejected and it’s all because of him. “No, no.” Finally moving closer and lowering his body to the ground so he can cup your face in his rough palms. “I just.” Pausing Nico tries to think of a better way to word his reluctance. “I’m worried both of you are feeling more hormones than anything else, and I don’t want this to turn into a regret.” A long swallow on his part as he stares long and hard into your eyes, he knows what you look like when you’re lost in the haze of your heat. He doesn’t see that right now. “I want a promise from both of you right now, no claiming, no marking. Just sex, I can’t put this off anymore but when you’re both clear headed the three of us will talk about this alright?”

You’re quick to agree, both of your hands running along the corded muscles of his arms. Vash however.

“Beta.” Growling the word out as his arms tighten around your body more. “She’s already ours.”

Nico sighs, turning his attention to Vash and seeing the glower on his face at the thought of letting you learn with nothing to say you belonged to them. “Vash. You’re being irrational, and that’s why I want that promise. We can all talk about this without hormones later.”

Another growl and Nico looks to the sky in a silent prayer before trying again. “Alpha. She might hate you for it. Can you handle that?” Nico knows what he’s doing, manipulating Vash to get him to agree with him by playing on his emotions. A tactic that works in this case as the other man relents.

“Fine. I don’t want my omega to hate me.” Grumbling his agreement, his hold on your body loosens. “Now will you finally strip and join us?”

At that question you smile, dropping your hands down to Nico’s crotch and trailing your fingers along his length that is hard to miss with the outline of his jeans. Enjoying the heat from his skin and the short hiss of his breath as he inhales in through his teeth. He didn’t tell you to stop and you keep going, working his pants open and pushing some of the fabric of his underwear aside to touch his skin directly. “Seems someone can’t for me to do it myself.” Pulling his shirt off before wrapping his fingers around your wrists to remove them from his skin.

“But I wanna touch you.” Blinking up at him with a pout, you wanted to touch Nico and try to make him feel as good as he made you feel so often with no thought to his own pleasure.

“You will.” Closing the distance to press his lips to yours. You almost swoon at finally feeling his rough skin against yours, something you’d wanted for so long without realizing it. Almost like you had been dying of thirst and never noticed the spring of clear water beside you, moving your lips the way Vash had as you tried to deepen the kiss. Nico, is more than willing to oblige, letting you slip your tongue into his mouth as you explore. He knows you’re inexperienced, but it doesn’t change the fact that he lets you lead and guide the kiss.

Vash turns his body, letting out a noise of satisfaction watching your sloppy attempt to repeat his actions. You’re so willing to learn and to try and imitate what you learned. Vash can’t wait to have Nico and him teach you so much, of all the new things the pair of them will get to try with you as you explore each other. Licking his lips at the saliva dripping from between the two of you before reaching out to wipe some of it away to pull both of your attention to him.

A soft noise escapes you as you break the kiss humming as you look at Vash, the pressure in your core having relented, his knot soft Vash had pulled out of your pussy. “Are you ready for the next round?” You clench around him, liking the idea of another round and this time with Nico joining both of you. Nodding your head quickly and making a noise caught between a moan and a purr. “Good girl.” A whisper of praise as Vash slides one of his hands over Nico’s. “I was thinking, I stay right where I am, and you put what you learned earlier to use. How does that sound?”

“Yes! Yes alpha.” You're arching your body at the thought, the idea of giving Nico a blow job while Vash keeps pounding into you makes you smile. The fluttering in your chest was matched only by the shifting of your walls, another round of slickness starting to form in your core.

“What did she learn earlier?” Nico has a frown on his face, putting a bit of distance between the three of you to remove his remaining clothes. As much as his cock being free has him sighing in relief he doesn’t like the tone in Vash’s voice.

“Oh yes,” Vash is smirking now, moving your body into a similar position as before so you’re on all fours with your ass in the air. “Our little omega let me fuck her mouth, you’d be proud of her for her first blow job.” Catching the other man’s eye and letting his pride shine through. “She drank. Every. Last. Drop.” Putting emphasis on his words and ending it with a slap to your ass. “Now I want her to do the same for you.”

You're grinning, trying to reach out and grasp the length bobbing between Nico’s legs, something you’ve wanted to touch for so long and it’s finally going to happen. A shiver of excitement races up your spine, you’re not just going to get to touch him, you’re going to get to taste him. “Nico~” Another soft whine passes from your lips as you focus on his crotch.

“You fucked her mouth?” He might want to be mad, but he was the first to feel you cum, the first to have his fingers in your core and his cock pressing to the deepest place inside you.

“I did.” Tilting his head like the preening shit he was being. “She loved it.” Lining himself up once more, Vash surged forward ensuring his dick was all the way inside your clenching hole. Groaning at the tightness surrounding him, a vice formed from muscles that wanted to keep him there. Watching your head tilt upward as you moaned his name long and loud. “Now hurry Nico, I want us to cum at the same time.” Rubbing his hand along your back as he started a gentle pace to keep his mind occupied while he waited for the show to start.

“You’re always bossy when you’re in a rut.” Grumbling as Nico moves closer, one hand on his cock to make it easier for you to grasp it. “Good thing you’re hot.” It’s the usual song and dance the two of them play, teasing back and forth except this time they have a third partner. Turning his attention to you Nico sends you a soft smile, one hand cupping the side of your face. “Two taps if you need a break.”

You nod, replacing Nico’s hand with yours and enjoying the silky smooth feel of his skin under your palm. As your fingers touch you feel a pulse under them, almost like you can sense the blood being pumped by his heart running through the veins along his length. A wave of apprehension washes over you, what if Nico doesn’t like what you do? Almost as if sensing it, he brushes the wet stands of your hair from your face. “Just try your best.” With that reassurance, you part your lips and slip them over the head of his cock. Moaning and curling your toes with your eyes closed at the taste on your tongue. It has more of a tang than Vash did.

Nico slides closer, to make it easier for you as you grip his cock and start to bob along his length. You don’t have much experience but you’ll have more soon enough. For now, Nico watches with hooded eyes as more and more of his dark skin disappears into the warm cavern of your mouth. The bubble of want and need in his gut grows as the spit trails down to his base and into the dark hairs there.

Vash grins, watching from behind with his head turned on an angle, he can’t see much of what you’re doing but both you and Nico are making a symphony for him with the sounds of your pleasure. Sighing himself as your walls clench around him like a vice as you suck Nico off, it’s something Vash thinks the three of you are going to do a lot because your body clearly seems to like it with the force your insides are exerting on his length. Done with his gentle pace, Vash starts to move faster, smirking as the movement has you jerking forward and a choked moan leaving Nico. “Good girl.” Starting to breathe deeper as the pleasure starts to mount and he plans to chase it.

Your eyelids flutter as you find your lips touching Nico’s base after jerking forward for the snap of Vash’s hips, a whine of surprise before you moan around his cock. You can feel him twitching near the back of your throat and it sends a flood of slick down your walls, making it easier for Vash to buck into you harder and faster.

Nico groans, all of the times he imagined how you’d feel don’t compare in the slightest to the real thing. The sudden jerk of you to his base and he almost came on the spot. Grinding his teeth to hold off before hissing at Vash. “Alpha, I’m not… Gonna… Last.”

Vash looks up from where he’s watching his dick slamming into your welcoming cunt, taking in the sight of Nico and the clench of his jaw. Nico does look like he’s at his limit. Vash knows Nico doesn’t want to cum without permission, not when Vash had said for them to cum together. Pistoning his hips and slamming his knot against your folds, the three of you will have at least a day until his rut passes. What’s letting Nico enjoy painting your throat white without having to wait too long just the once?

Letting out a roar as Vash feels his knot starting to push past your opening before catching on your walls and locking him into your welcoming sex. “Then fucking cum beta, make sure our omega drinks it all down.” One of his long arms snaps forward to grab Nico’s shoulder and forcing him to close the distance so Vash can plunge his tongue into the other man’s mouth in tandem with his cock inside you.

Both men groaning in your ears and the feeling of being split open as both of them pump their seed into you sends you over the edge. With your nose deep into the mess of curls around Nico’s base you smell the musk of his arousal and sweat, using it to ground you from passing out and to keep breathing through your nose. Using it to moan around him as you tip over that edge once more.

When they break the kiss for air, Nico notices your slight distress moving away just enough that you can pull your mouth from his cock. Groaning again when you look at him with a look of pure debauchery as you slowly stick out your tongue to show him the spatter of white on the muscle. “Fuck me.” Hissing as you make a show of swallowing it.

“Oh don’t worry my beta, I plan to.” A devilish grin that seems out of place on his face Vash can feel the burning in his gut growing once more. You, now that you don’t have to fear passing out, let your eyes close as you need to rest for a moment. The omega in you content to belong to a pack and aware you are far from done.

Almost a full day later, you pant under the sheets of Nico’s bed too exhausted to move. “So. When are we talking about what we just did.”

“Later” both men whisper, equally as exhausted.

“After a nap?”

“Yes.” You want to laugh at how funny it is, but that takes effort. Instead, you let yourself drift off, a nap sounds wonderful, and you’re curled up with the two people you think you can easily spend the rest of your life with.

Well... I tried

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writteninlunarlight-years · 3 months

Note

I have an idea if you accept💕

What would the romantic and scary version be like? From the nun! Alastor with reader, where the 7 years that Alastor disappeared in hell, for some reason he was summoned by someone (probably teenagers doing stupid things) and because of that, he was trapped in the radio, of course he took advantage of this to haunt everyone who bought the radio ... Until the Human! reader bought the radio, but what Alastor didn't expect was that he fell in love with her after a while... Just like in the horror film Valak, apart from the romance part, it's obvious! (film: The Conjuring).

Note feel comfortable could be a yandere alastor? If it can't be normal....

Wicked Woman~

Alastor X Reader

(I love this concept, especially if, later on down the line, the reader dies and remembers her life with Al. Please let me know if you would like this as a part two. I followed closely to what you asked but put my spin on it. Hope you all enjoy.)

TW: Dark themes, Murder, Death, Yandere Type Tendencies, Stockholm Syndrome

Alastors POV

Hell was everything I could ask for it to be. After my untimely death by those damn dogs, I vowed to continue my pursuit of power and strength. I entered hell unfathomably powerful, and I will take hell over with this power. I was feared and revered even by the highest class of demons that walked among us. Thousands of poor, unfortunate souls rested in my claws. Even in this prey-like form, I was purely a predator.

How my name ended up in those damn demon books up top was beyond me; it probably had something to do with the one I sold my soul to for even more power—a damn trick to make me suffer for having power that rivaled those in all of hell. Yet, no one was brave enough to fully summon me or try and control me. I was elusive and would scare anyone who wanted to open ties with me on the mortal plane. However, that was my biggest downfall. In hopes of showing off my immense power and strength, I allowed those up top to know more about me in the end.

Ironically, children sought to summon me more than any damn adult; hell, I even thought cult leaders would call upon me more than this. That fateful day, though, when I was trapped in the radio, was due to some pesky teenage punks looking to harm some poor young girl. I hate people like that, those who prey on the weak, just like my father.

It was quick work killing those teens off; the world was probably thousands of times better off without them. Yet every time I tried to go back to hell, I was stuck, some weird plan of reality; I was there on earth, but I wasn't. This had to be another twisted game my master was putting me through. It was another joke to show how I was still just below them on the food chain of power.

I knew showing my demon form would be unwise in this place; enough people tried calling on me as it was. While deciding my next plan of action, I heard the sirens coming close to the location of the slaughter. Sighing, I absorbed myself in the radio, hidden from sight and out of mind. Watching the clean-up was entertaining, but scaring the wits out of the police and cleaning crew was far superior.

Once all was said and done, I learned this cabin was in the middle of the woods, once owned by one of those teens' parents. After the gruesome murders and odd occurrences around the house done by yours truly, they sold it off. This left a gorgeous cabin in the woods empty for me to enjoy. Being so secluded, I could come and go from the radio as I pleased; no need to fear that someone would see me.

This cabin reminded me so much of my home in the bayou with my mother. The woods resembled that of where my father took me hunting, resembled where I ended his life, and countless other horrible humans that got in my way. This place felt like I was living my human life once more with less killing that is.

For a year, I had tried going back to hell countless times. However, I realized till my master needed me, I was trapped here on the mortal plane. Accepting my fate, I decided to give up on hell and take this nice vacation. Who knows, maybe with my time away, I could have new ladders to climb upon my return. Plus, no one would dare to buy a cabin in the middle of the woods after a gruesome murder, where it was deemed haunted.

I was dead wrong, however, when I heard the noises outside the cabin door. It finally happened on the day that marked the first year of my purgatory on the human plane. Someone had bought the cabin in the woods. I was shocked and almost pleased with this person's brazen stupidity. It's probably another punk kid wanting to do rituals or someone running away from their misdeeds.

Yet the biggest surprise was the young woman who entered the house with the first set of boxes. She was lovely, kind, and vibrant. She wore a large black hat even though the skies were cloudy gray. Her voice sounded like bells from a chapel, and her smile radiated the sun's light. If my undead heart could beat, it would be beating faster.

I swore off love at a young age, only courting women when it allowed me closer to targets that I needed to kill. Once in hell, I just killed to kill, no need for love or emotions. Yet this woman lit something within me that was to be feared and hated.

As the days passed, I watched her unpack her boxes. I learned she was a Wiccan, finding joy in the dark and light of all things. I knew she knew I was there. She could feel me lurking in the shadows and hovering around. No matter how often she saged the house, I stayed, an entity far surpassing her mortal purities and spirituality. However, I would hand it to her; her spiritual prowess was strong.

I tried relentlessly to scare her off; I had a rule about killing women: unless they were evil, I would never lay a hand on them. So, all I had going for me was scare tactics and horror. Convincing her, I would eventually kill her. A few cuts and bruises here or there from a broken floorboard or a throwing knife. She never budged, though, a smile on her face as she said a prayer and went on with her day like I hadn’t just hung knives above her head.

Months had passed since she joined me in this cabin; she cut firewood early in the morning, would come home, shower, cook food, go out to the town an hour away, and then come home and relax or pray to her deities. She did not care about my existence; the more I became attached to her, the more she didn’t care or fear. She took to calling me Shadowy, a stupid name but chosen purely due to me refusing to show her my proper form. I lurked in the shadows, only allowing that to be seen. Sure beat her first name for me, Radioy; humans suck at naming things.

Sitting at two years trapped in the mortal realm with a woman I was growing fond of wasn’t my ideal step in the process of unlimited power. However, I was more content trapped here in this cabin as long as it was with her and her alone. She would bring men over, enjoy their company, and send them on their way. They never made it far, though, having accidents as they returned to their place. Even when she left the house for the night to see them, I knew exactly who they were.

By year three, she had stopped dating, growing frustrated with my senseless killings. The police had shown up at our door countless times to question her involvement, only for them to fade from existence as well. She stopped going outside much, only cutting firewood and grocery shopping occasionally. As much as it pained me to see her light diminishing, it also fueled a sick, sadistic part of me.

I enjoyed watching her more; now that I didn’t have to worry about others popping up, I began showing her my proper form. A slight sense of pride swelled in me as she became pleased to witness my deer-like looks. Though I hated my looks, how she fawned over me, almost forgetting all my misdeeds towards her, was pleasing. I allowed myself to indulge in daily life with her, I stopped trying to scare her or kill her, and we fell into a semblance of domestic life.

Once year four came around, she was tied to the house after interacting with a hunter in the woods. I would go out and kill her meat and anyone on our land. I would bring her wood and sustenance with my face covered in the blood of those who dared to try me. Eventually, she, too, became okay with this method of mine, and I was thrilled. I had my perfect human right here just for me.

I taught her how to dance and cook meals my mother once taught me, showing her the joys of good Southern cooking. Though I could not process the cooked meals I showed her, I knew feeding her and making her strong was all that mattered. I gained plenty of sustenance by killing off anyone who came close to her. I gained sustenance by watching her fall more into me and my spell as I fell more into hers.

Year five came around, and I had her clung to me; she was mine and mine alone. She gave up on her deities and only worshiped me. Fueling the God complex I already had, I swore to make her mine; no other man or demon could take her. She was powerful spiritually, and she would be vital in her death when she joined me.

I began teaching her how to kill and maim those who entered our woods. I taught her how to murder and never be caught. In the beginning, she was horrible. I had to end a lot of police lives, yet she grew stronger as time went on. Soon, she was as notorious of a serial killer as I once was. The woods covered our tracks, ensuring we were hidden from the eyes of others. Oh, how I wished when I was alive that a spirit would assist me like this in my kills.

In year six, I knew she was as strong as I was when I fell to hell. I made her so perfect, molding her to my ways. I knew when her time came in death, she would find me; my Doe. She used her spiritual powers to assist me in breaking my binds to my master. Though nothing ever seemed to work, she was persistent. I was proud; I understood why pride would be such a sin. Watching her work her powers and drain herself for me was delicious.

This year was the year I finally claimed her. I took her and made her mine, not just in thought or word but in mind and body. I would not allow anyone to ruin my hard work. She was perfect, and she deserved me as I did her. We were bonded in a way that transcended soul bonds or mortal relationships. We were unstoppable.

This knowledge alone is why, come year seven, I felt the shift in my presence. I knew it was coming to my departure from her world. My master was calling me back to hell, threatened by the perfect morsel that I had created. My master knew I would be unstoppable if I followed my plan to convince her to die, to join me in the afterlife as one. This alone is what sent me back to hell, the fear I struck in the one I had controlling me.

I knew when it was my time to perish, she would join me here, and we would rule hell side by side. No one would stop that—no contract, no princess, and certainly no king. Though I enjoy the hotel and the people I have met there, I know my power only has room to grow. My doe would make quick work of anyone who dared to take her from me. She was left on earth to grow stronger and stronger to benefit me in her death. To help me rule all of hell. I would be unstoppable and grow immensely in all dimensions and planes of reality.

Oh, and my power will grow; it will grow when my wicked woman joins us in this fiery blaze…

#x reader #lunarwritings #moons #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbinhotel #hotel hazbin #hazbin #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor x reader #radio demon x reader #alastor the radio demon #radio demon

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f1byjessie · 7 months

Text

A PICTURE IS WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS ━━ LN4.

sometimes the right words are hard to come across, and sometimes everything you need to say can be captured in an image.

( lando norris x photographer!reader )

━━ part six.

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user AIN’T NO WAY HE FINALLY POSTED HER

user girlies i hate to say it, but maybe this one’s actually serious… 🫢

↳ user i refuse to believe it…

↳ user he’s literally never posted another girl before tho??

user king of aesthetics

user i can’t believe he’s actually dating her

user what does he actually see in her?? like gen what is it cuz i cannot see it from here 😒😒😒

user she’s just using you for your clout garrett DON’T FALL FOR IT 😫 SHE’S NOT THE ONE THERE ARE BETTER FISH IN THE SEA

↳ user she’s fr just using him for the money and fame it’s so sad

↳ user right?? like he’s posting her which means he’s probably serious but i doubt she is and it’s just gonna hurt him in the end 😔

↳ user this is why i hate when celebs or athletes get with ppl who aren’t in the same sphere as them, cuz like if she were another celeb then we would know she has money or if she were actually a football fan then we would know she’s invested in helping him get better but she’s neither 🤷‍♀️

↳ user it hurts to see such an innocent man get used

user wait she’s actually kind of pretty tho ��👀

↳ user she lowkey is

user can’t wait to see you back on the field soon garrett!!

user mad style bro

user came over from y/n’s account to say that you fans are exhibiting behaviour that is genuinely so immature and disrespectful. it’s sickening. you claim to support this athlete but you don’t support his decision to enter an exclusive relationship with someone? you say it’s bc she doesn’t know football or that she’s controlling or that she’ll ruin his career, but you know nothing about her and i’d bet you all would say the same thing about anyone. she could be a professional footballer herself and you would still say she isn’t fit to be with him. get over yourselves and bffr. none of you had a chance with him to begin with, and you hating on an innocent girl so much that she had to turn her comments off so she wouldn’t keep getting death threats is actually crazy. you all are delusional.

↳ user THIS. i’m so tired of the hatred

↳ user i’m honestly surprised garrett hasn’t said anything to his fans about them leaving her alone yet…

↳ user he probably thought GROWN ADULTS would know it’s inappropriate to act like BABIES but i digress 🙄

↳ user whether he thought they were mature enough or not, the fact that he probably knew it was happening (she’s his gf, there’s no way she didn’t tell him or he didn’t see the comments himself before she turned them off) and still hasn’t said anything is a major red flag imo. he’s posted her/acknowledged that she exists on his acc now, but he STILL hasn’t addressed the hatred his “fans” have been sending her and continue to direct towards her in the comments of his own post.

↳ user i think it’s a out of sight out of mind type situation tbh. if neither of them acknowledge them, then the haters aren’t given the attention they want. they might just be waiting for it to die down.

↳ user i don’t think that’s a good enough reason tho?? if i was a celeb and my significant other was being harassed by jealous and delusional fans, i would absolutely say smth and try to get them to stop, partly bc my s/o doesn’t deserve to be spoken about like that just bc they’re in a relationship with me and partly bc i personally wouldn’t want to see that type of negativity directed towards the person i care about. it’s a matter of respect for your partner.

“I’ll be honest with you, Garrett━ I don’t like you very much.”

The restaurant table you’re both sitting at is tucked away in a corner and gives you enough privacy to feel comfortable having this conversation with Garrett out in public. The restaurant itself is exclusive in its own right, similarly to the first place Garrett took you. It’s not as high class in the sense that you feel underdressed with business casual, but it’s the type of locale that other celebrities or higher class individuals tend to frequent and it makes you feel secure in the fact that the staff are trained to be discreet about anything they might overhear.

“But,” you shrug, “I don’t think you need me to tell you that.”

Garrett takes a slow sip from his coffee and raises an eyebrow at you over the rim of his cup. While he does so, you appraise him. The only other time you’ve seen him in something other than his training attire or some equally comfortable athletic-adjacent wear was the first night you both went out, and you hadn’t really been paying much attention to him then━ too focused on trying not to scream your head off in frustration.

He looks good though, which you’re loath to admit. Garrett, at the very least, has fashion sense if nothing else. If he were even half decent his style might’ve been enough to make up for the rest of the decency he’s missing, but as it stands he’s so far below the bar that his ability to dress nice only serves to get him within jumping distance of your lowest standards.

He lowers his cup back down the table with a faint clink, and then steeples his fingers together on the table.

“Quite frankly, Y/N━” the way your name sounds on his lips makes you shiver, but not at all in the way it’s described in the romance novels you used to read back in school. It’s like the human equivalent of your hackles rising, sensing danger, knowing you need to make yourself bigger to appear like more of a threat, “━I don’t really care what you think of me. This is more of a business transaction than an actual relationship. You don’t need to like me, you just need to pretend you do.”

He ends it with what would be a charming smile on anyone else, but knowing who he is beneath his charismatic facade makes it look sleazy.

You scoff. “For a guy who’s so desperate to fix his reputation, you sure aren’t doing anything to actually try and fix who you are as a person.”

It’s his turn to scoff. “I don’t actually need to be a better person, I just need everyone to think I’m a better person.”

“Fair enough.” You can’t argue with that. “But if I’m going to be spending a prolonged amount of time with you, you’re gonna have to at least pretend to not be a total dick.” You take a sip of your coffee.

He watches you for a moment━ observes your face, your hands, the way you tap your fingers against the table once your cup has been lowered. And you watch him right back. His steepled fingers have intertwined together, and he’s resting his chin atop them in a show of nonchalance, but his eyebrows are furrowed tight and his shoulders are pulled tense.

“What do you even want out of this?” He finally asks after another few seconds of silence broken only by the quiet drone of other restaurant patrons in the background. “What’s so important to you that it matters more than whatever notoriety being with me could give you?”

The Manchester skyline outside the window draws your gaze as you ponder how to go about explaining your answer. The storm-darkened sky casts the city streets below in a heavy shadow, which mimics your own mood as of late. It’s the weekend now, but Lando’s call and the things he’d drunkenly said still looms over you. You’d spent the week in a bad mood that not even your newfound friendship with Jack was capable of easing, and each day with continued radio silence on Lando’s end━ the fact that he can’t even bother to apologize himself━ only sours things more and more.

It had soured even more when McLaren’s PR team manager had reached out to you with the knowledge that you could plan on being back at the Technology Centre in Woking by the end of the month, in just under two weeks. In and of itself this hadn’t been bad news, but it meant seeing Lando again and unless he reaches out first to extend an olive branch, you could almost guarantee you’d be in for an uncomfortably awkward reunion.

But none of that matters right now.

“I’ll admit, I’m taking a page out of your book and being a prick,” you say as you turn back to Garrett. “But, in my case, it’s entirely warranted because he was a prick first.”

“What’d this guy do?”

In an odd turn of events, it feels as though you’re gossiping with Garrett Ward of all people. Without the context of your relationship with him━ the real one, not the one you’re pretending to have━ you imagine you probably look like two friends talking shit, or pretty close to the couple you’re supposed to be. Despite being such a twat normally, Garrett really does just come across as being a normal guy.

You have to remind yourself just what he threatened to do. He’s not a normal guy━ he’s dangerous. But he’s also a crucial part of your plan, and there was certainly some truth when he’d called things between you a business transaction. You don’t have to like him, but you have to trust that he’s got his own best interest in mind and you can certainly capitalize off of that.

“He had some choice words about our ‘relationship,’” you start, fiddling with the handle of your cup. “And even though we aren’t actually together and I probably wouldn’t touch you even if we were the last two people on Earth, it’s the principle behind it all. He has no right to judge me so harshly for my relationship choices, so I’m going to flaunt that I don’t care what he thinks, he’s not my keeper, and I will date whoever I damn well please,” you finish with a huff.

Garrett blinks at you. You’re starting to think he just has a staring problem, but before you can call him out on it he rolls his eyes, crosses his arms, and leans back in his seat━ looking the part of the smug douche he actually is. “You like this guy, and you want to use me to make him jealous because you’re pissed that he hasn’t given any hint at being interested in you but still feels as though as if he can be possessive over you.”

You blink at him. “No. Absolutely not.”

He raises an infuriating eyebrow.

“Fuck you,” you mutter into your cup, taking a sip to avoid having to say anything more.

Garrett heaves a sigh. “I suppose I could help you with that. We’ll be doing the couple shit anyways, might as well kill two birds with one stone and solve your problem and mine.” The way he says it makes it seem as though he’s doing you a favor, and if you weren’t so sure that he’d rescind his willingness to help if you argued with him, you’d call him out on the fact that technically he’s the one who owes you after you agreed to help him with his dilemma in the first place.

“Why not just be honest with him?” He says after another moment.

You snap your eyes back to him. “What?”

“Why not just be honest?” He repeats with a shrug. “Aren’t you worried he’ll lose eventually lose interest if he thinks you’re off the market?”

You scoff, “I’m not off the market. I’m just not available to the public.” You’d sat awake at night not long after things with Garrett began and realized that it really was all just an act. Actors kiss in front of a camera all the time, but at the end of the day they go home to their real partners and that’s the only person that really matters. Things aren’t all that different between you and Garrett. You call yourselves a couple, but side from the agreement that you’ll act like one in public, there’s no obligation or commitment to put one another first. Garrett will always prioritize his career, reputation, and friendships over you, and you’re rather inclined to do the same.

He purses his lips.

“Oh please,” you roll your eyes. “As if you expect me to believe you aren’t still planning to pick up a few birdies at the pub and show them a fun time.”

“My situation is different than yours. I’m the one trying to convince the media I’ve changed, which means I need someone who can be discreet, and a birdie from the pub certainly isn’t that.” He shrugs his shoulders. “Not getting laid for a few months is just a sacrifice I have to make to keep my place at Man City.”

You don’t mention that no matter what he does to try and clean up his act, Manchester City won’t be keeping him around after his contract expires. He wouldn’t believe you anyway, but even if he did you doubt he’d be all that willing to continue with this facade.

“More fun for me then,” you say instead, returning the smug smirk he’d given you earlier.

He glares.

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footballfansofficial UPDATE: Manchester City Forward Garrett Ward once again seen out in public with girlfriend and Formula One photographer Y/N L/N! The couple were caught sharing a romantic evening for the first time on the 5th of January, and have once again been spotted Saturday, the 20th, following Ward and L/N’s public posts on social media platform, Instagram. Ward has reportedly been making progress with his injury recovery, and is speculated to be rejoining the team on the pitch in February if all continues to go well. As the 2024 Formula One season draws nearer, it’s also expected that L/N will be returning to her McLaren roots, after working with Manchester City to photograph their winter training, which leaves fans wondering how their relationship will fare. Check the link in our bio for the full article!

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user i’m starting to warm up to the idea of them as a couple… 👀👀👀

user I WAS SO CONVINCED SHE WAS WITH LANDO NORRIS??? WERE THEY NOT EVER TOGETHER??? 🤯

↳ user i don’t think they were which is super shocking bc she posts him all the time on insta

↳ user i mean?? that’s technically her job?? as a photographer for mclaren she takes and posts pictures of the mclaren drivers. if you scroll across her feed she also has a lot of oscar from 2023, and carlos and daniel from their years with the team. she’s been working with manchester city recently too and has been posting the players as well. it’s just that she’s worked with lando the longest consecutively so ofc her account is gonna have him posted more than the others

↳ user LET ME BE DELUSIONAL I ACTUALLY THOUGHT THEY WERE SO CUTE 😭😭

user i really wish garrett would actually focus on his career instead of dating women bro’s contract ends at the end of the season and he doesn’t even seem bothered

user MAN CITY RE-SIGN GARRETT WARD 2024 🩵🩵🩵

user i hope the long distance makes them break up

↳ user me toooooo that bitch needs to get away from my man

↳ user he’s too good for her

↳ user be so fucking fr, she’s never had a scandal in her entire career but garrett ward has had dozens in just the past few years. if anyone is too good, it’s her 🙄

user MCLAREN WCC 2024 🧡🏁 AND MAN CITY TREBLE WINNERS 2024 🩵⚽️

user don’t hate me but i totally thought garrett ward was gay

↳ user ah, yes, most notorious casanova, known for his many nightly escapades with women, that’s 100% proof that he’s gay

↳ user idk that was just the vibe i got

↳ user be so fucking fr 💀💀

user will city even want to re-sign him after the season is up?? he’s been on loan for the majority of his contract anyway, playing in the championship of all things, and now he’s back but he’s missed a majority of the season cuz of an injury. i personally don’t think garrett ward stands a chance against the current starting forwards, so even when he’s recovered who’s to say he’ll play in any matches?? just seems like a waste for city to keep him around if he isn’t even being used

user if ward is actually cleaning up his act then good for him

↳ user real. all these ppl acting like she's suddenly changing him into a whole new person against his will, but none of them have stopped to think that maybe he WANTS to change.

━━ tags: @maih23 @urfavnoirette @leclercsluv @f1luvur @formulaal @a-disturbing-self-reflection @starlightpierre @chezmardybum @marshmummy @405rry @sideboobrry11 @d3kstar @mcmuppet @happylittlereader @casperlikej @5starl1ght @bellezaycafe @whentheautumnleavesfall @mess-is-my-aesthetic @ssprayberrythings @landosgirlxoxo @lifelessfan @81ja

━━ a/n: i did it! got this part done so much faster AND i didn't wanna rage while i did it 😌 feeling pretty proud of myself for that. anyways! hope you all enjoy!

#formula 1 #formula one #f1 #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula one x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #social media au #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #ln4 #oscar piastri

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