The Homewarming audio reveals and exposes a lot about the neighbors characters. [ANALYSIS]
1.) First things first; The neighbors can interact with the narrator. But considering puppet shows usually involve the puppets interacting with the narrator, (like Sesame Street for example) I don't know if that's a big deal or not.
2.) BARNABY: (Barnaby pipes up at the Narrator.) Hey, keep it down up there! Some of us are tryin’ to do some serious cerebratin’ down here!
^As above, so below reference again.
3.) JULIE: (Whispered.) Frank’s right… Homewarming is about making sure your house is nice, cozy, and toasty. Right before I go to sleep for a very long time, I make a big nest from my bed just like I used to do back home when I was small- A lot of pillows and blankets and leaves and sticks…
^Her background when she used to live in a cave.
4.) HOWDY: Advice?! …You know I don’t got any’a that for sale, Barn! Not unless it’s to buy, buy, buy-!
^Hmmm, consumerism is what he's advocating.
5.) HOWDY: Frank?! (Howdy Scoffs loudly)
^So far, Frank is wary of Wally, Sally is blatantly disrespectful to Eddie, and now we see Howdy possibly doesn't think of Frank as a close neighbor. What's with all the animosity?
6.) HOWDY: That’s right! Trinkets even! It’s about what you give to other folks! The bigger, the shinier, and the more expensive the better! It’s about the razzle and dazzle! Go on, Barn, tell ‘em!
^We see here that Howdy is materialistic- which is odd considering he only asks for a joke in exhange for his services but then we get...this side of him.
7.) Frank said Homewarming is just a home that's warm, Howdy said it was gifts for Home. Sally says Homewarming is about the ambience, decor, and experience. Poppy says it's for dishes.
^Frank is logical- too literal, Howdy is materialistic, Sally enjoys the spotlight, and Poppy is a foodie.
8.) Wally even tossed the slice of poppy-seed ham into the flames and listened for a sound of approval
^Although it's revealed Home preferred the company of Wally and Barnaby instead of all the gifts in the end, this one specific action Wally did seemed oddly...sacrifical. Like offering food to a higher being.
I still don't think Home is an antagonist, personally. My money is still on Playfellow Workshop.
9.) WALLY: (He sounds frustrated and confused.) …How can that be.
^Apparently, Barnaby couldn't hear it but Wally's voice gets distorted when overwhelmed, just like it did when he tried speaking to YOU or...the Question-Answerer.
10.) AND! Eddie was never mentioned, not once, in this audio- which makes me think this is in correlation to the Wishbook audio recording where "Santa Claus" fails to talk about Eddie, and only Eddie.
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dare to fuck this up
summary: ever since your last game of truth or dare ellie's been avoiding you and it's time for an intervention
tags: NSFW, tlou au, college!ellie/reader, mentions of drugs and alcohol (not used), oral (e receiving), fingering (r receiving), finger riding (r receiving), little bit of angst, afab reader, the knee thing
a/n: this took me 2 months cause i work full time and it's 10k words so. enjoy (thank u for all the love on part 1! <3) also for anyone who doesn't know the tiktok dance i mentioned i linked it. don't look under the sound you'll spend way too long watching hot women dance
part 1
You hadn't talked about it.
You had woken up the next morning, the sun blinding you from the window that was still left open. A cold autumn breeze ruffled your curtains, pricking at your bare skin. With one foot still in a dream, you'd groaned, turning over and pulling your blanket over your head. You had burrowed your head into your pillow - it still smelled earthy, rich with cologne and the faintest smell of weed. It had made your nose wrinkle only briefly, before you had reached out, searching for the warmth of another body - but your fingers only landed on the sheets, now cool to the touch.
You sat up with a gasp, the blanket pooling around your lap. But you had fallen asleep on top of your blankets, hadn't you?
The comforter was laid neatly over you, the pillows on the other side of the bed propped against your headboard, unbothered. The sun was streaming through the window, filtering through your curtains and shining in splatters of light against your own bare skin. Your small room was deafeningly quiet.
That had been three weeks ago.
For three weeks, Ellie avoided you. You hadn't seen her when you left to take your exam that morning. By the time you got home - after classes and after your part-time job - it was dark. The door to her bedroom was firmly shut, the muffled sound of music leaking into the living room - you wanted to smile when you realized she was listening to that song you had recommended. You thought about knocking on her door; not even to talk about what happened, really, but just because she was your best friend. Instead, you ate leftover takeout - cold because you were too tired to microwave it - and went to bed. You could hear her quietly singing to the music through your flimsy wall, falling asleep listening to her voice.
At first, you honestly thought you had dreamed it. You thought maybe you had fallen asleep, sleep deprivation and vodka drawing out this fantasy in your dreams to torment you when you woke. But when you looked in the mirror, the bruises were still there. You ran your fingertips across the one on your collarbone, pressing at the one left behind your ear; you could still feel the warmth of Ellie's mouth against your skin, her teeth grazing across your hips. The phantom feeling still sent a shiver down your spine, heat creeping in your stomach.
Ellie was trying her best to avoid you, but she still lived with you. After three days of not speaking, you resorted to a different approach. She didn't seem to have any plan to speak with you anytime soon - certainly not about what happened - so you let your body do the talking. You began wearing primarily v-necks and tank tops - ignoring the fact that it was still fall - simply to broadcast the line of lovebites she had left, her signature written all over your skin. They had faded slightly, but the purplish bruises still blossomed along your collar. You began wearing shorts around, short enough to show the bruise on your thigh; you let the fabric sit low enough to show the one at your hip, a pretty blend of colors that made you ache. The few times you did see her - when she was scavenging for food in the kitchen or right when she got home, before she could scurry away back to her room - you could feel her eyes lingering on you, gaze like a brand against your skin, burning all the spots she had marked.
And she would hurry back to her room, locking the door behind her.
Fine.
If she refused to talk about it, you thought, you'd just have to make her.
Which is why, three weeks after your original game - three weeks after that stupid fucking night - you bought a new bottle of vodka (by the time you had found the old one, it had spilled the last of its contents into your rug. Your room still smelled of it). When you got home, Ellie’s door was shut, just as it had been every day for three weeks. You kicked off your boots, leaving them in a pile in the hall, and knocked on her door.
“Sorry, I’m busy,” she called - just as she had every day for three weeks.
You pursed your lips and knocked again, harder.
“I’m busy!” she called again, her voice hard. It might have stung if you didn’t know her so well.
So, you knocked again. And kept knocking, a steady, continuous rhythm that echoed against the walls. You heard Ellie curse under her breath, could hear the scrape of her chair and her footsteps, and you kept knocking. You didn’t stop - didn’t even slow - until she opened the door in a huff, your hand falling against open air.
“What the hell are you-”
You shoved the bottle of vodka against her chest, cutting her off. She gripped it hastily before it could shatter against the floor.
She looked frazzled. You had seen her during several exam seasons, during harrowing projects and infuriating essays. You had seen her in the hospital, two years ago, after breaking her leg skateboarding to work. But there was something in the way her hair was disheveled, sticking up at odd angles as though she had been running her fingers through it over and over and over again. There were bags under her eyes, purplish splotches like watercolor.
And her eyes…. Her eyes were completely shattered.
So you hesitated - briefly, just long enough for her to see the stutter on your lips - before you said, “Truth or dare?”
And the game began.
Ellie looked at you, staring for several moments that stretched into infinity. You wanted to grasp it, to wrap your fingers around that stretched thread of a moment and hold it there where it couldn't hurt either of you. You weren't ready to let it go. But Ellie was looking at you with those broken eyes, and before you could say or do anything - before you caved and took the bottle back, fleeing back to the safety of your own room - the thread snapped.
Ellie shook her head - and kept shaking it, as if doing so would rid her of this… whatever this was. “No,” she murmured, avoiding your eyes as her grip around the bottle’s neck tightened. “No, I’m not doing this. I’m busy, okay? I have an exam tomorrow-”
She moved to close the door - shutting it right in your face - but you kicked your foot out to stop it.
“When somebody asks the question,” you said, reciting the stupid little agreement you both had written out two years ago, the night you established this tradition, “you have to play the game to its conclusion; when you run out of questions or pass out from alcohol poisoning. Those are the rules, El. Remember?”
And still, she just looked at you, her brow furrowed like you were an equation she couldn’t solve - couldn’t even read, really. Her knuckles were white around the bottle’s neck, and when you looked down, her hands were shaking. You wanted more than anything to put your hands over hers, to still them - to bring those hands to your lips and kiss the white knuckles until she released her fists. Instead, you dug your nails into your thighs.
You watched as Ellie took a deep, steadying breath, clenching her fists tighter before releasing the tension, her fingers relaxing around the bottle; her hands stopped trembling. She smiled at you, but it was tight, her eyes empty of their usual mischief. “Alright,” she said, and her voice was just as tight as her fists had been moments ago - the tension not gone, only transferred. “Okay, I’ll play. But you only get an hour - I really do need to study.”
Ellie’s bedroom was the same layout as yours, only flipped, the two a mirror of each other. Strings of lights hung crookedly along the walls, the bulbs casting a soft, warm glow amongst the room, the same hazy hue of a dream. An easel leaned in one corner, a canvas propped against it; there were only the barest scribbles of an outline, incomprehensible to you. You thought it may be a profile, the gentle slope of a nose and soft lips sketched in pencil, but you weren’t sure.
You ran your fingers over her desk as you passed; it was in absolute disarray. Two different astronomy textbooks lay open, covered in highlighter markings and Ellie’s sloping writing in the margins. There were three different cups on the surface in varying levels of full: a mug half full of coffee, still steaming; a glass of water that was completely full, untouched; and a cup filled with murky, grey liquid. A few paintbrushes had been left to sit in that one, and in large writing along the cup was written PAINT DO NOT DRINK. You almost laughed, remembering all the times you had watched your roommate spit water out after she had picked up the wrong cup.
It felt strange when you sat gingerly on her bed. You had sat in this spot so many times before, more than you could count. You had spent so much time lounging on this bed, your laptop open in front of you while Ellie worked at her desk - on homework or her latest painting or nothing at all. There were days laid out before you where you both at lain in a crumbled heap, eating takeout on top of the covers because Ellie didn't give a shit about crumbs, an open laptop playing whatever horror movie she wanted to show you (she was always more scared than you, hiding her face in your shoulder). God knows how many truth or dare games you had played in this room, a bottle of alcohol passing between shaking fingers. When Ellie bought it, it was cheap whiskey and you hated it; you drank it anyway.
Now, sitting on her bed - carefully, as though you thought it might break - your skin felt aflame, a fire burning in your muscles. When you ran your fingers over the messy sheets, you could only remember how it had felt to have your fingers clutching the ones on your own bed.
Ellie sat at her desk across from you, folding herself so that she had one foot propped up on the chair with her, her knee folded to her chest; her other foot tapped anxiously against the floor. She was looking at you, her face strategically neutral, but it was like she was looking through you; her eyes kept shifting away, unable or unwilling to settle on you. Her voice gave nothing away when she said, looking at a spot above your shoulder, “Dare.”
You sighed, feeling the questions wanting to claw their way from your throat with nowhere to go. You knew what you wanted her to do - what you wanted to dare her to do - but the words would only cause her to withdraw further. You felt like you had to approach Ellie as if she were a scared animal, ready to flee at the first sight of danger.
Wracking your brain for something mild, you said, “Try to recreate one of those dumb popular TikTok dances.”
You didn't miss how Ellie's shoulders relaxed, her hands noticeably unclenching. She looked at you and it was almost like nothing had happened; like she hadn’t been avoiding you for three entire weeks, becoming a ghost in your apartment. Like you both hadn’t made what had obviously been a drunken mistake.
The beginning of a smirk tugged at her lips as she dug in her back pocket for her phone - its case had an astronaut on it, because of course it did. The screen illuminated her face, flashes reflecting minutely in her eyes as she scrolled. She bit her lip absently - she often did when she was thinking. You tried not to stare and failed miserably.
“This’ll be easy,” she muttered to herself, half laughing. She scrolled through a few videos, and she had the volume down on her phone, but you could still recognize the song that kept playing on repeat; you were going to fucking die.
There were several minutes of quiet, only the music playing from Ellie’s phone. With nothing to do but wait, you brought your legs up onto the bed, tucking them under you; your eyes wandered around the room, taking in the stack of paintings by her desk, both finished and unfinished. The figurine she had of Kassandra from Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey had toppled on her desk, her spear falling in a glob of paint, the tip smudged bright yellow. You investigated the posters she had hung up of her favorite bands - almost all of them with female singers; she had a very specific taste. On her nightstand, in a frame made of macaroni, there was a picture of her and her dad, taken at the zoo when she was quite a bit younger, the blurry image of a giraffe in the background. She was holding up a peace sign, smiling so wide her eyes were practically shut.
You turned back when Ellie stood up from her chair, placing her phone on her desk. Shoving her hands in her hair, she said, “Can’t promise this’ll be anything amazing, but you get what you paid for.” Even as she said it, she was smirking, a dangerous twinkle in her eye.
You watched as she rummaged in her closet, shoving aside probably half a dozen flannels and at least 10 different band t-shirts. She rummaged through a bucket with a few beanies in different colors, and you couldn’t see her face, but you already knew she would be wrinkling her nose like she always did when she was getting frustrated.
You jumped, startled, when she suddenly exclaimed, pulling her head from her closet and turning to you with a triumphant grin. She held a black belt in her fist, holding it up like a trophy.
You shook your head at her, even as your throat closed up with anticipation. “If it took you that long to find one, it’s no wonder your pants are always hanging from your fucking ass.”
“Hey,” she said, picking up her phone again and looking at you with mock offense; she was still smirking. “I don’t exactly hear you complaining when my ass is out.”
You heard the stutter, heard the way her breath caught after she said the words. It was so stupid - a stupid little remark that she would have made any other day three weeks ago. She wouldn’t have even thought about it, wouldn’t have batted an eye. You would have rolled your eyes and said something mean in response - something like, “I save my complaints for when I see your face instead.” You would have laughed and then watched a fucking movie or something.
Instead, Ellie only coughed awkwardly, ducking her head to fiddle with her phone. In the dim light, you could see the flush of her cheeks behind her bangs. You looked anywhere but at her, your eyes darting around to find something to focus on that wasn’t how pretty she looked when she was flushed pink - how pretty she looked with her cheeks red from alcohol and exertion, her lips shining wetly -
Your brain short-circuited when Ellie started the music - only the bite-sized sample that was trending on TikTok. She set her phone on her desk and took a deep breath, waiting for the song to loop again as she positioned the belt by her hips. She didn’t look at you, instead casting her eyes to the ceiling and muttering, “This is gonna be so stupid.”
When the music looped again, you were forced to watch as Ellie thrust her hips to the beat, pulling the belt slowly away from her hips. When she brought it up to wrap the piece of leather around her neck, pulling it taut, you were surely convinced you must be paying for some sort of crime, that this was your eternal torture. Her movements were janky, stuttering and unsure and off-beat - she had only watched the videos for a few minutes and was relying solely on memory to guide her limbs. When she tried to tie her wrists into the belt, she got stuck, her hands ending up in a knotted mess. Still, her eyes met yours when she raised her bound hands above her head - coincidentally or purposefully - and you couldn’t look away.
This was definitely Hell. It had to be.
When the song started to loop again, Ellie hastily tried to pull her hands from the knot. The belt clattered to the floor, abandoned, as she scooped her phone up, fumbling with the buttons to cut off the music. She nearly dropped her phone in her haste.
When the room was silent again, Ellie sat back down at her desk. Last time you had played, you had asked her to do something ridiculous for her first dare, and she had grinned with pride, practically preening. Now, she wasn't smiling; she hardly even looked at you, fiddling with one of the many paintbrushes on her desk. You compartmentalized the image of her thrusting her hips with her hands bound over her head, saving it for later. You always did torture yourself with these things.
Ellie was looking at that same spot over your shoulder when she said, “Truth or dare?” She sounded pained, her words strained against some invisible weight. It was like your very presence in her room - on her bed - pained her, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave and give her relief.
“Truth,” you said, hoping against hope that she would ask you fucking anything about that night three weeks ago.
But she had never been that easy. Ellie had never been one to give you straight answers and she wasn’t about to start now - especially not now. So instead of saying anything - asking anything - about that night that she seemed keen on forgetting, she asked, “What’s the worst first date you’ve been on?” Before you could protest that you always told her about your worst dates, she added, “One I haven’t heard before.”
So for the span of one question, you let yourself believe that you were still talking to your best friend. That she hadn’t been avoiding you for three fucking weeks and this was only your typical truth or dare game in between studying. You believed that you were simply gossiping with Ellie, who had been your best friend for several years and nothing more. In the space of one question, you let yourself believe that this was still only a game and not an intervention.
So, in the spirit of pretend, you thought for a moment, rifling through the index of all the shitty dates you’ve been on. Ellie had already heard most of them, had been there whenever you came back home; she was there whether you were heartbroken or relieved that you wouldn’t see the person again. There were a few times where you had come home laughing, and she had passed you a joint as you told her all about the horrible date - you would take twice as long to tell the story because you couldn’t stop laughing.
Finally, you said, “Okay, this was before we came to college. We weren’t close enough friends in high school for me to tell you, so I don’t think you’ve heard this one before. Stop me if I’m wrong.” She waved her hand for you to continue, twirling a pencil between her fingers. “I had just graduated high school so I was dating around before I left for college - nothing serious, just casually looking around.”
“Window shopping,” she interrupted you with a grin - that same easy grin she always had with you. Your heart tugged embarrassingly at seeing it again.
You swallowed the lump and continued, “Yeah. So, I went on a date with this guy - he was some friend of a friend’s, I didn’t know much about him. We went out to dinner at some local dive bar - which was already fucking weird because, like I said, I had just graduated high school.”
“Was this guy a fucking cradle robber?” Ellie said, wrinkling her nose.
You shook your head. “He may as well have been. He was either 21 or he was just really good friends with the bartender because as soon as he came in, he got two beers - the cheap shit, too. It tasted like musty ass.” Your stomach twisted when she laughed. “So we sit at a booth and I finally get a second to really look at him.” You leaned forward, bracing your hand on the bed so you wouldn’t fall, and made sure she was looking right at you when you said, “And this motherfucker was wearing a shirt that said Black Rifles Matter.”
You reveled in the way Ellie’s jaw dropped, her eyes widening. Her lip turned up in disgust, and the only thing she could say was, “No.”
You grinned, nodding, and you had to focus really hard to not start laughing. “Yes. And I rolled up to this dive bar, fresh out of the womb, with bright pink hair freshly dyed and a crop top that literally said Femme on it in bright pink letters - which, okay, maybe not the choice to wear on a first date with a straight guy, but still. I was in this booth with a baby face looking every bit as queer as I am, and this fucking dude with a patchy mustache and a shirt that has more problems than I care to admit opens up by telling me he doesn’t like when girls dye their hair.”
Ellie was rolling her eyes, on the edge of her seat. She leaned closer as you continued, “But fine, whatever, everybody has preferences I guess. But this guy gets three beers in, and he’s already been talking about weird shit - conspiracy theories and telling me how kids today are too soft - one of those fucking guys, right? But then he stops,” you hold up your hands for emphasis, leaning even closer, “and he leans into me over the table, and he looks me straight in the eye - you wanna know what he said?”
Ellie groaned. “Tell me he didn’t ask who you voted for or some shit.”
You barked out a laugh; it echoed on the walls. “God, I wish. No, this bitch looks me dead in the eyes, his breath reeking of bad beer, and he says, ‘Are you on your period? I have this weird talent for smelling when girls are on their period.’”
You watched, delighted, as Ellie slapped a hand over her mouth, muffling a choked gasp. “No!”
You couldn’t stop laughing, pressing your hand to your stomach as you fell back against the sheets. Her laugh filled the room like helium, making everything feel lighter - easier. Even now, you couldn’t help but marvel at how easy it was being around Ellie. And for a moment, you did forget what had happened. You forgot about the string pulled taut between you waiting to snap. You forgot that this was anything more than simply another dumb game of truth or dare.
Until you looked up and saw the press of Ellie’s lips again, the way her eyes darted away, and you could feel yourself sinking again.
And that’s how the hour went. Ellie - infuriating Ellie - did every single dare you asked of her. She did a handstand for a minute straight, her face turning so red you thought she might pass out. She called the local pizza place you often ordered from and asked for one hundred sardine pizzas, laughing when the poor teenage boy on the other line started stuttering. Last time, she didn’t take all the liquid in the fridge and make a nauseating cocktail; but this time, she did go and find four different liquids of her choosing - apple juice, almond milk, an old flat Dr. Pepper, and the remaining vinegar in a Kimchi jar - and downed it in front of you. She tried her hardest to hold a straight face, but only ended up scrunching her eyes closed, clapping a hand over her mouth to muffle a gag. She never chose truth.
For your part, you never chose dare. You answered every pressing, embarrassing question she asked, ignoring the flush to your cheeks. You told her the most absurd dealbreaker for a relationship. (“What do you mean you’ll break up with someone if they don’t like garlic?” Ellie asked, smiling even as she shook her head.”) You went through the original Wiggles band and said which you would fuck, marry, or kill (“There are four of them! Do I choose to have a threesome?”)
And you waited. Each time you chose truth, you held your breath. You watched Ellie mull it over, her eyes darting around as she thought, and prayed that she would just ask you something. You knew it was an unrealistic wish, but you still watched her lips and hoped against hope that she would give you some kind of acknowledgement that this wasn’t all for nothing. You just wanted her to stop being such a pussy and fucking talk about what happened.
But the clock kept ticking.
After about an hour had passed, Ellie looked at her phone and sighed, standing up. “Okay, I really have to get back to studying. I have this dumb astrophysics exam tomorrow and I can’t wrap my fucking head around this shit, so I have to -”
“One more,” you cut her off, standing up from the bed. You followed her as she walked to the door, one step behind her when she put a hand on the doorknob. She paused, her hand frozen there as she looked at you - actually looked at you, not through you. It was only a moment, but it was there; you could feel the way her eyes had branded your skin even after she’d looked away. Your voice was rushed, breathless when you added, “We haven’t even opened the bottle, so what’s one more? Just for fun.”
Ellie looked behind you, back at the vodka bottle on her desk with the seal still intact. She sighed, but she never could say no to you.
“Fine,” she said, and her voice was so quiet in the dark room; the word felt like a secret between you, soft against the tension stretched thin. “One more.”
You nodded, taking a deep breath. You tried to sound casual - you really did - but when you spoke, you found you couldn’t speak any louder than a whisper, afraid to disturb the air around you. You ducked your head, trying to meet her eyes when you said, “Truth or dare, Els?”
She looked at you, meeting your eyes, and she seemed to deflate, sighing out a breath that ruffled your hair - you hadn’t realized how close you were. Her breath smelled of canned ravioli and weed; it was almost enough to make you laugh.
Ellie took a step back, clearing her throat, and answered for one last time, “Dare.” Because she was too afraid of the fucking truth.
And fuck it if your heart didn’t stutter in your chest. You felt your fingertips buzzing, your stomach twisting nauseatingly. You felt like you were going to be sick, but you forced yourself to look up at her. You squared your shoulders, feeling like you were preparing for fucking battle, and said, the words familiar on your tongue, “Kiss me.”
A moment of silence passed, the words suspended between you. They were tangible, and part of you still wanted to snatch them back - to swallow them and leave, to pretend this never happened - but you didn’t. You held them out to Ellie - you weren’t sure if they were a threat or an offering.
Ellie didn’t recoil, and you weren’t sure if that was more insulting. She looked at you for a long moment before turning away, shaking her head and turning the doorknob. “I really need to study, okay? I don’t have time for thi-”
You put your hand against the door, holding it there so she couldn’t open it. Your stomach was a mess, tying itself into knots that you would never be able to undo. And you knew - you were far too aware - that this could ruin everything. It could drive her further away, pushing her further into this little cocoon she was hiding in. Ellie might hate you for it.
But this was too important to ignore.
“Kiss me, Ellie,” you said again, and you could feel the bite of it on your own tongue. When you had said it three weeks ago, you had been so unsure. It had been a rush of words on a breath, tinged with alcohol and desperation. The words had been so careless, a sober idea that had made its way from your drunken mouth.
Now, Ellie was the one who couldn’t look at you. She stared at the spot where your hand pressed to the door, willing you to let go. Her knuckles were white around the doorknob. Her voice was a rumble that you felt in your chest when she said, “I need you to leave. Please.” That last word - please - made your heart break.
You swallowed around the lump in your throat and said, “No.”
Ellie finally turned her whole body towards you, but she was wearing a mask; she had schooled her face into a mockery of nonchalance, her eyebrows raised expectantly as she watched you. She crossed her arms, leaning against her hip, and watched you with measured expectancy, shaking her head. She shrugged and said, “What do you want? I really need to study.”
And it was the lack of care that broke you.
You slapped your hand against the door in frustration, feeling the sting in your palm, disappointed when Ellie didn’t so much as jump. You shook your head at her, and you were so fucking angry you could feel tears stinging at your eyes. You blinked them away and snapped, “What’s your fucking problem?”
Ellie’s eyebrows shot up, her mouth opening in indignant shock. “What’s my problem?”
“Yeah,” you cut her off before she could even continue. “What’s your fucking problem? You know what happened - what we did - but ever since that night you have been so determined to act like it never happened. You haven’t even talked to me in three fucking week, Ellie!” She closed her eyes when your voice broke on her name. “You’ve hardly looked at me all night. And look,” you sniffled, feeling some of the fire in you die down, “if you regret it - if you want to act like it never happened and go back to how things were before, I get it, okay? But can you at least have the balls to fucking tell me?”
Your voice echoed off the silent walls, filling the space between you until you couldn’t breathe. You wiped a hand roughly over your face; your cheeks burned and you hated yourself for it. The room was so quiet you feared Ellie could hear the sound of your racing heart.
It felt like hours before Ellie spoke; her voice was so heartbreakingly quiet, tip toeing on eggshells that were already broken. “I don’t regret it.”
You huffed out a breath, shaking your head as she still wouldn’t meet your eyes. She couldn’t even look at you. When you took a step closer, you could feel the heat radiating off of her body, could feel the warmth in your chest. Your voice had lost its fire, your throat cold and raw and broken. You could only murmur, “Then kiss me again, Els. What are you so afraid of?”
“You,” she snapped. You jumped, taking a step back; your heart lurched when she finally looked at you. Those shattered eyes were watching you, so open and vulnerable you wanted to look away. You forced yourself to watch, to bear witness to it when she shook her head, blinking tears from her eyes. Ellie pressed her lips together, blinking several times before releasing her held breath. She held your gaze like it was a lifeline and said, “I’m scared of you.”
And just for a moment - so filled with silence it might pop - you saw it. You saw how Ellie had run from you like an injured animal, hiding away. You saw the way her hands shook around her biceps. You saw the way she bit her lip to keep it from quivering.
You shook your head, feeling so incredibly small underneath those eyes that had avoided you all night; now they were vividly, overwhelmingly focused, broken in the hazy light and so green it was dizzying (and you couldn’t even blame it on the alcohol this time). You didn’t recognize your own voice, so small and vulnerable that the words themselves ached: “How can I fix this, Els? You want me to-” You huffed out a heavy breath, choking on your own voice. “Do you want me to act like it didn’t happen? Do you want me to leave you alone? I’ll do whatever you want, Ellie, I just… fuck. I just want my best friend back. So just… tell me what I did wrong.”
You jumped when Ellie barked out a laugh, so dry it cracked. It may have been a trick of the light, the soft string lights making everything feel unreal, but when she looked at you again, she went impossibly soft.
“You,” she said, so softly it ached, “haven't done anything wrong.” She sighed, leaning back against the wall; it was like all the fight suddenly drained from her, her shoulders sagging against the weight of three weeks. She looked away, her lashes casting shadows over her cheeks, and said, quiet as a confession, “You were drunk.”
You furrowed your brow, shaking your head. “What?”
Ellie ran a hand through her hair, making it even more disheveled. Pathetically, you wanted to fix it; you knew how soft the strands would be under your fingers.
“You were drunk,” she repeated, as though it pained her; as though it explained everything. Her voice broke, the shattered pieces falling at your feet. “And I…. Fuck, I shouldn’t have pushed you. I shouldn’t have… forced myself on you.” She heaved in a shaky breath, her words tumbling from her, broken glass cutting her throat, leaving it raw. “I couldn’t even… wait for you to wake up after. I just fucking ran - I couldn’t even look at you, and that’s even shittier! And for three weeks, I’ve been trying to figure out how to fucking talk to you when I know that we - that I shouldn’t have done that.”
Ellie pressed her hand to her mouth, taking in a shaking breath - her entire body was trembling as she fought to hold it all in. She looked ready to burst, struggling to take in a deep breath. You reached out to grab her hand - to hold her together - but she flinched away.
“I don’t-” you started, unable to find the words. You watched your best friend dissolve, and you couldn’t seem to fit all her pieces back together. “Ellie… Els, are you saying you’re avoiding me because - because you thought you took advantage of me.” The words tasted ridiculous on your tongue, a foreign object.
Ellie was shaking her head wildly, her hands balled into fists. “You were drunk!” she repeated, like a mantra. She pressed a hand to her chest as though to keep everything in. “You were drunk, and you kept telling me no, and I just… pushed. I pushed and I didn’t know when to stop and, fuck, I still can’t believe I did that and I didn’t even have the fucking balls to face you or even tell you I’m sorry, and-”
“Ellie.” You reached out and grabbed her wrist, cutting off her rambling; she flinched again but didn’t pull away. She looked up at you, her eyes wide and vulnerable and so impossibly green. “For one, do I need to remind you we were both drunk. And that I was the one who told you to kiss me?”
She watched you carefully, guarded; her bottom lip stuck out and, embarrassingly, you found you wanted to kiss it again more than anything. She took in a deep, shaky breath, ignoring the tears running down her cheeks; they mixed with her freckles like watercolor. “You kept telling me to stop - to leave it alone. And I didn’t listen.”
“Els, I told you to stop because I was scared,” you admitted in a rush. Before she could respond, you continued, “Not of you. I was scared of how badly I wanted you, okay? And that’s fucking embarrassing to admit, but I’m saying it so you know it wasn’t your fault. I was scared because… fuck.” You scrubbed a hand over your face, feeling tears on your own cheeks. “Because you’re my best friend. And I knew that, as much as I wanted it, it could fuck everything up. But I didn’t want you to stop.”
She shook her head. Her voice was raw when she said, “You couldn’t fuck anything up. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Neither did you,” you practically shouted. “Ellie, I asked you to kiss me! Yeah, I had a few shots that night, but I knew what I was doing. You asked me how long I’ve wanted it - what did I say, Els? Tell me.”
Ellie looked up at you, her cheeks splotchy from crying; she let you slip your hand into hers anyway. “A long fucking time.” It was no more than a whisper.
“Yeah,” you said, gripping her hand to keep her grounded. “Not just when I was drunk. Not just when it was late. And definitely not just when you wanted it too. I’ve wanted you for a long fucking time, Els.”
Ellie watched you, studying you like you were an equation she couldn’t figure out (she really needed to study for that astrophysics exam). She pursed her lips, nodding slowly, rubbing roughly at her damp cheeks. “Yeah.” Her voice broke again; she cleared her throat. “Yeah. Me too.”
You took a step towards her; her body was so warm it was dizzying. You could hear her breath catch when you reached up and pressed your palm to her cheek.
“What do we do now?”
When she sighed, you could feel it on your lips. You felt the warmth of her hand at your waist, a steady anchor. “Like you said,” she murmured, her gaze soft; she reached up to brush your hair from your face, her fingers grazing the side of your neck. “This could fuck everything up.”
Your heart lurched; you swallowed it back down so it could throw a fit right next to your twisted stomach. “Yeah,” you whispered, afraid to break the spell that made Ellie’s eyes watch the way your lips moved, captivated. “But….”
“But,” Ellie repeated, leaning in so her nose brushed against yours; it was cold against your skin.
You hardly had to move to kiss her, tilting your chin up to finally kiss that pouty bottom lip you had been staring at. You heard her breath catch again, her fingers pressing at your waist, drawing you closer so the warmth of her pressed against you. After three fucking weeks, you hadn’t forgotten how her lips felt against yours. It was just as intoxicating as it had been the first time; you were dizzy with the way she moved her mouth against yours, warmth spreading through your chest.
Ellie broke away from you, but she didn’t stray far; she pressed her forehead to yours, and you could see that her eyes were still closed, her brow furrowed. She sounded impossibly small when she said, “Are you sure about this? I mean, what-”
“Ellie,” you interrupted; you twisted your fingers into her short hair and tugged lightly, delighting in the gasp it pulled from her lips. “Just shut up for once, okay?”
You hardly even heard her replied Okay before her mouth was on yours again. Last time she had kissed you, you had felt lightheaded, floating with the weight of alcohol in your veins. Each press of her hands on you had felt unreal and distant, like she was touching you in a dream.
Tonight, the vodka bottle sat unopened and forgotten on her desk, and Ellie was pressing against you with a sharp realness that made your breath stutter in your throat. When her fingers ran along your jaw, cupping your face and tugging you closer, they were lightning against your skin. She had the welcoming warmth of a bonfire, and you were like a fucking moth drawn to her.
Ellie took a hesitant step forward, pressing you back, moving so slowly as though she thought you’d push her away. You let her push you backwards - encouraged her, really, entwining your arms around her neck and tugging her with you. You stumbled on the last few steps, practically falling back against the wall; Ellie braced her hands on either side of you to keep herself up, laughing into your mouth. You wanted to swallow the sound, to take it into your chest where it could curl up right next to your heart.
The wall was cold against your back, but Ellie was quick to chase it away; her warm hands ran up your back, rucking up your shirt and scratching her nails lightly over your skin until you shivered. She was so gentle with you this time, running her fingers over your skin with such careful deliberation, as though each kiss and each caress was meticulously planned out.
It was with this painstaking consideration that she lifted your shirt, pooling it around your chest; you raised your arms so she could pull it over your head.
Ellie snickered, snapping the strap of your bra against your skin. “This is new.”
“Shut the fuck up,” you said, batting her hand away. It was one of your nicer ones, and you couldn't tell her that, embarrassingly, you had worn it on purpose with the hopeless thought of just in case. “Sorry I’m not in my pajamas. I’ll be sure to fix that next time.”
She grinned, ducking her head to press a kiss to your jaw. She hummed against your skin, “No, I like it.”
You didn’t talk about the implication of what you had said - next time. But the way she kissed her way across your jaw, her teeth grazing over your skin and sending a shiver down your spine, promised a next time. As Ellie’s tongue darted out to lick along your pulse, you could feel the words in the breathy sigh that escaped your lips. When she ducked her head to bite at your collar, she branded the words into your skin.
“You’re such an asshole,” she said, her laughter warm against your skin. She pressed a gentle kiss to your collarbone; the bruise had long faded, but the phantom ache was still there. You could feel her smile when your breath hitched. “Just had these on full display. Drove me insane.”
You huffed out a laugh that stuttered when she pressed a kiss at the edge of your bra. “I had to get your attention somehow, didn’t I?”
Ellie lifted her head to meet your eyes. Her voice was barely above a whisper, her breath brushing your lips when she said, “You’re crazy if you think you’ve ever not had my attention.”
When she kissed you again, it was with a new fire that burned bright in your chest. Her hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer so that you could feel her body against every inch of you. Her fingers dipped below the waist of your pants, pressing at the soft skin there. You felt her tongue press against your lips; when she ran it along the room of your mouth, she swallowed your moan.
Ellie hummed against your lips, pressing you firmly into the wall and shoving a knee between your legs. You gasped at the sudden friction, heat pooling in your stomach when Ellie gripped your hips and pulled you closer, grinding against her sweatpants-covered leg. Her lips brushed against your ear and she murmured, “Tell me to stop and I'll stop.”
She had said those same words last time, pressed drunkenly into your skin. There was an affirmation hidden somewhere underneath: Do you still want me? Before, they had been slurred, like a sloppy kiss against your lips. Now, her hands steady against your hips, her body warm from something other than vodka, it was whispered like a promise.
You answered by pressing your hands to her chest; she didn’t fight you as you pushed her away, didn’t hesitate as you walked her backwards until the back of her knees hit her bed. She let herself fall backwards, but she wrapped her arms around your waist as she did so. You fell into a crumpled heap on top of her, knocking the air from both of your lungs, and you could feel her laughter against your neck.
Lifting yourself up on your elbows, you glared down at her; she only answered it with a grin, lifting herself just enough to kiss you briefly. You couldn’t suppress your own smile when you said, “You’re infuriating.”
Her eyes sparkled mischievously. She hooked her fingers in your belt loops and gave them a tug as she said, “Yeah, get used to that.”
You kissed her again to hide your smile. You didn’t talk about the inclination of that either.
Growing impatient, you swung your legs on either side of her, sitting up and straddling her hips. Ellie’s hands ran up your sides, captivated, as though refusing to keep her hands off you for even a moment. You idly ran your fingers over her stomach where her hoodie had risen up, the warm skin right above her sweatpants; you delighted in the way she shivered at your touch.
“This doesn’t seem fair,” you hummed, running your hand higher up her abdomen, revealing the expanse of soft skin; if you pressed just a little bit harder, you’d be able to feel the muscles beneath. You smiled when you heard her breath stutter, chest rising just slightly to meet your touch. “You’re wearing way too many clothes.”
Ellie - ever enthusiastic - wasted no time in sitting up just enough to tug her hoodie over her head, leaving her hair an absolute mess. She tossed it across the room; you thought you heard it knock something over, but you didn’t have a chance to look before Ellie was grabbing your hips, digging her fingers into the soft skin. You gasped when she used the leverage to pull your hips down, grinding against her.
This time, she was the one not wearing a bra - she had been home studying all day, so you hadn’t expected otherwise - and your eyes raked over miles of fair, warm skin. You wanted to run your fingers over it and watch the shiver your touch pulled from her. You wanted to press your lips to every inch of hot skin and feel the way her body arched into you, chasing your tongue.
But she was watching you with an intoxicating shade of anticipation in her half-lidded eyes. You realized you had been staring for a few seconds too long because she had that cocky ass grin on her stupid face.
“Like what you see?” she teased, pulling your hips down again so you had to bite down a moan.
“Shut the fuck up,” you mumbled. You couldn’t tell her how many times you had imagined what she would look like under your hands or how you had always wondered how far down her freckles went (you couldn’t keep yourself from running your fingers down her chest, tracing them like constellations). You couldn’t tell her how your eyes had tracked her anytime she walked around the apartment in a sports bra or, sometimes, in only a towel, your imagination running away from you.
If you told her, she’d never let you live it down.
Instead, you let your hands drift across the small swell of her chest, feeling the way her body arched into your fingers. You had to bite back a grin when your thumb brushed over her nipple, feeling her body shudder beneath you. You wanted to record the way her breath caught in her throat to listen to over and over again. Her eyelids fluttered, her lip caught between her teeth; you knelt down to kiss her, hard and deep, smiling into it when you pinched her nipple gently and she moaned against your lips, fingers tightening around your hips.
You needed to taste her, you realized. Your mouth watered with it.
You bit her bottom lip between your teeth, grinning when you heard her hiss. You took a moment to kiss your way across her jaw and down her neck, open-mouthed kisses pulling sighs from her lips. You couldn’t resist sucking the skin into your mouth, feeling the way her pulse jumped under your tongue and loving the moan that rumbled in her throat, her fingers gripping your hips so tightly you were sure you'd have bruises - again. But when you pulled away and saw the red beginnings of a bruise on her pale skin, a thrill ran through you. She would have to walk around with a physical reminder of how you had made her feel.
You loved revenge.
But you weren’t like Ellie, who had taken her sweet time in unraveling you. You didn’t have that kind of patience - certainly not now, not tonight. You had spent far too long holding yourself back - too long averting your gaze, never letting your touch linger. You had spent so long schooling your own imagination, trying to ignore the way your heart stuttered whenever Ellie wandered too close. You had spent too many nights letting your mind wander, only feeling safe to let your imagination run when you could hide in the dark; you had spent far too many nights with your hand between your legs and the fleeting image of green eyes and that crooked fucking smile.
So no, you didn’t have any patience left in you.
When you reached between your bodies and pressed your palm to her sweatpants, you swallowed her moan, drinking it in and feeling like you could survive on it alone. Maybe it would finally satiate your fucking thirst.
Kissing your way down her chest, you pressed the words into her skin - “I can't fucking believe you though I didn’t want this.” - before pressing the flat of your tongue to her nipple. You could get drunk on the breathy moan that dripped from her lips, the way she arched up into you like her body ached to be closer to yours. She pressed her hips into your palm and you could feel the heat through her sweatpants.
When you pulled back just enough to tug at her sweatpants, Ellie started laughing, breathy and hitched as she said, “Little eager, aren’t you?” Even as she said it, she was lifting her hips, pushing hastily at her pants to get them off faster.
The fabric was damp when it dropped to the floor, pooling around her ankles. Stepping off the bed, you placed your hands on her knees, pushing them apart. You dropped to your knees and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the skin above her boxers. Her skin was hot under your tongue when you said, “Haven’t I waited long enough, Els?”
Ellie only responded with a moan as you sunk your teeth into the soft flesh of her thigh and pressed the heel of your palm to her underwear. You grinned against her skin when she cursed, grinding down into you. You soothed the bite with your tongue and backed away to admire the red beginnings of another bruise.
Ellie groaned, twisting her fingers in the sheets when you ground your palm into her. “Fuck, I’ve waited long enough too, right?”
You couldn’t hold back your grin, tugging at her boxers so she would lift her hips. With her underwear around her ankles, Ellie lifted herself up on her elbows so she could look down at you. Whatever she saw - you on your knees between her legs, lips parted so your hot breath fanned over her - made her groan, another breathy curse falling from her lips. She reached down and carded her fingers through your hair, fingers soft against your temple.
You smiled, blinking coyly up at her, and said, “Little eager, aren’t you?” before pressing the flat of your tongue to her clit.
The moan that wracked through Ellie’s chest sent warmth spreading through your stomach, an ache pooling between your legs. You raised your eyes to watch her as you licked a slow, painstaking stripe over her slit, watching the way her mouth fell open in a choked gasp. The metallic taste of her on your tongue made your head spin; you moaned when she twisted her fingers in your hair, delicious pain stinging your scalp when she tugged.
Ellie gasped your name like it was a promise. “Fuck - what the fuck -” Nonsensical words dripped from her lips with abandon, sweet as honey to your ears. When you ducked your head down to press your tongue inside her, a brief, hot pressure, her fingers tightened in your hair, her voice hitching when she cursed again, her words slurring together.
You wrapped one arm around her thigh, feeling the muscle trembling as you pressed your fingers into the soft flesh. You ran your other hand up her stomach, feeling the way her breath quickened in the rise and fall of her chest. Stretching further, you flicked your thumb over her nipple and tightened your arm around her thigh when her hips bucked, holding her in place.
You wrapped your lips around her clit, sucking it into your mouth and fighting back a smile at the keening whine it pulled from her. Her fist in your hair tugged you closer, guiding you exactly where she wanted you - and how could you resist her when she was chanting your name like a prayer?
A shudder wracked through Ellie’s body when you flicked your tongue over her clit, lapping at her like you were starving. (After waiting so long to taste her, you might as well have been.) She groaned when you pinched her nipple between your fingers, her thighs clamping around your ears. Her legs shook when she came, your name on her tongue as though it were the only word she knew. You coaxed her through it, the flat of your tongue licking over her clit until she was gasping for breath, her hips slumping back against the bed.
You peppered kisses over her thighs as she came down, your hand brushing across her stomach in soothing circles. Your knees ached from the cold floor, the carpet burning against your skin, but you couldn’t convince yourself to move just yet. When you glanced up at her, Ellie was looking down at you with glassy eyes; she had slumped back a little against her elbows, her limbs jelly - you tried not to let that go to your head - but she held out a hand to you, grasping for you. “Fuck, come here.”
You both took the time to finally scoot further up the bed, Ellie's head propped on her pillow, her hair a messy halo around her. She pulled you on top of her, bracing her hands on your hips as you straddled one of her legs. When you leaned down, she tilted her chin up to meet you, kissing you lazily, licking into your mouth like she had all the time in the world - like she could kiss you forever and it still wouldn't be enough. With your elbows braced on either side of her head, it felt like you were both in a small bubble, the world left outside to wait for you. Fuck, maybe you did have all the time in the world.
You gasped when Ellie raised her leg, pressing it between your thighs with an intoxicating pressure. She used her hands on your hips to push you down, guiding you as you grinded down against her. She broke away from the kiss, taking a moment to just look at you. Her pupils were blown, swallowing the green entirely.
She grinned, endearingly lopsided, and murmured, “Now you're wearing too many clothes.” You whined a protest when she took her hands off your hips, but she only reached behind you to fumble with the clasp of your bra. It took her a few tries - you bit back a laugh when she cursed in frustration - and she threw it across the room when she finally got off.
“Who the fuck designed those things?” she grumbled, fingers quick on the button on your jeans.
You got off of her for only a moment, just long enough to kick your jeans and underwear off, but each second her skin wasn't on yours was agony. Your clothes hadn’t even fallen to the floor before Ellie was pulling you back in by the nape of your neck, her other hand guiding your hips back over her leg as she kissed you with a hunger that may as well have devoured you. You hissed when her teeth sunk into your lip, her tongue soothing over it before licking into your mouth.
Your breath caught on a broken moan when she pressed her thumb into the dips of your hips, pressing you back to grind against her leg. The feeling of your bare pussy sliding against her thigh made you lightheaded, the dizzying pressure sending sparks through your stomach. Ellie's fingers still on the back of your head twisted in your hair, giving it an experimental tug; you felt her smile against your lips when you whined. You were pliable under her hands, your hips stuttering against her leg.
Ellie pulled away, pulling you back by your hair just far enough away for her to look at you; her eyes raked over your body with a hunger that set you nerves on fire, looking ready to devour you.
“God, look at you,��� she breathed, raising her leg just slightly, the added pressure making your heart stop. Releasing your hair, her hand ran down your side, sliding across your chest. You moaned when her thumb grazed over your nipple, your hips stuttering; her other hand on your hip tightened, fingers digging into the bone. “So fucking wet for me and I've hardly even touched you.”
“Shit,” you cursed when Ellie bucked her hips, her thigh grinding into you. You tried to glare down at her even though you knew your own traitorous eyes betrayed your growing desperation. Her cocky smile didn’t quite land, its impact softened by the way she watched your lips in fascination, her pupils blown - you couldn’t see the green anymore. Your voice wasn’t nearly as hard as you wanted it to be, your want softening the words: “Fuck off, Els, don’t be a dick.”
“Am I being a dick?” she asked in mock offense, pouting up at you. “Good things come and all that shit, right?” Ever as she was teasing you, Ellie’s hand crept down your stomach, fingers warm against your hungry skin. She lowered her leg just enough to slide her hand between your thighs. You gasped, feeling lightning in your veins when those calloused fingers slid over your clit, already wet with want. Her eyes darkened, her lips parting. She slowly circled your clit, sending your hips jerking into her, and said, “Fuck, look at you. God, I finally get to see you like this….”
You struggled to speak past the breathy moans beginning to drip from your lips: “Finally? How - ah - fuck - how long - how long have you…?” You couldn’t think of a way to finish that sentence, your thoughts clouding over when Ellie dipped just the tips of her fingers briefly inside you, gathering your wetness.
“Like you said,” she murmured, finally pushing two fingers slowly inside you; even as she kept talking, she watched your face carefully, searching for any sign of discomfort, “a long fucking time.”
Your jaw went slack when she curled her fingers, gasping when she found that spot that made you see stars. She paused, as though giving you a moment to adjust, unaware of just how many times you had done this with your own fingers.
“Shit, Ellie,” you moaned, canting your hips down into her hand. She adjusted her arm, positioning herself so that the heel of her hand pressed to your clit, pulling another breathy moan from your lips. Her other hand was still on your hip; she pushed you back, guiding you to grind on her fingers. “Ah - fuck.”
She watched you carefully, fascinated by the way your eyes rolled back in your head, your brow furrowed; you felt her own wetness on your thigh again. Her voice was so fucking breathy when she said, “How long have you wanted this, baby?” She hummed; releasing your hip, she ran her hand up your side to knead at your tit, her fingers so careful against you. You groaned low in your throat when she flicked her thumb over your nipple. “How many times have you come thinking of me? Did you imagine my fingers inside you, angel? Did you moan my name?”
You couldn’t even think of a snarky response; you were too distracted by the way her fingers curled inside you as you fucked yourself against her. Her rough palm slid deliciously against your clit, grinding into her with a growing desperation that made your thighs shake. Your shoulders ached from holding yourself over her but it was only an afterthought as you felt a tight warmth building in your stomach. You leaned down just enough to kiss her, moaning into her mouth when words failed you.
“Fuck, look at you,” Ellie repeated, groaning when your hips stuttered. You were lightheaded, fucking yourself desperately on her fingers, grinding down against her palm and chasing that intoxicating warmth spreading inside. “So fucking pretty for me.”
She kissed you as you came, licking into your mouth and tasting herself on your tongue. You pressed your clit down into the heel of her hand, riding it out, feeling the way that warmth spread down to your fingers. Ellie broke away from the kiss to trail her lips down your neck, leaving wet kisses along your skin and saving every broken moan that was gasped right into her ear.
Ellie didn’t move as you came down, letting you ride out your high, tracing gentle circles down your side. You slumped against her, your arms giving out; your weight landing on her forced all the air from her lungs. She only laughed breathlessly.
It was several long moments before you were able to move again. Ellie ran her fingers through your hair as you gasped into her neck; she hummed absently and you could feel the vibration against your lips.
When you were able to, you slowly lifted yourself off of her, wincing slightly at the sudden emptiness. With gentle hands, she guided you back down to lay beside her; you curled up against her without waiting for her invitation, resting a hand on her bare chest so you could feel the steady pounding of her heart.
Ellie didn’t wait for invitation either before she wrapped her arms around you, pulling you closer; she was blissfully warm against the suddenly cold air. Something tugged pleasantly at your chest at the realization that you would no longer have to monitor your own movements so carefully - you could touch her, you realized, any time you wanted now. God, how were you going to ever stop now?
Without anything else to say, you sighed against her skin: “A long fucking time.”
Ellie hummed, giggling at your delayed answer. The fairy lights on her walls cast the room in a warm glow; with the hazy lights around you, you would almost believe this was a dream if Ellie wasn’t so solid and warm beneath your fingers. You traced the freckles across her chest, connecting constellations you had seen her chart before.
Her voice was so quiet in the small room when she asked, “What do we do now?”
You hummed, feeling sleep winning the war inside you. “We can figure that out tomorrow,” you said, pressing a kiss to her collarbone. Tilting your head, you leaned up just enough to kiss her, warm and deep and breathless, before moving away to meet her eyes. “Just don’t fucking run off again, okay?”
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cw: age gap relationships, jealous, mentions of cheating, possession in relationships, manhandling(?), NSFW, mean König
fem reader x dilf! König // not proof read
part 1. || part 2. || part 3.
— "You should let me do skincare on you." You softly chimed, eyes locked up to König as he did paperwork. You were laid on your belly in his bed; his desk directly next to you giving you a good view of his irritated expression.
König's brows furrowed slightly, glancing up at you. It had been about a month since he initially met you, and even after he had toyed with your body a bit, you just wouldn't fuck off. Always next to him with those big eyes and bratty huffs for attention. Even if he was catching up on sleep, you still laid in bed next to him, nails gently scratching his muscled back (a part he would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy).
"Are you almost done?" You whined, flipping to your back and staring at him upside down, your head hanging from the edge. One of his pillows was hugged up in your arms, fingers gently caressing the fabric.
"No." And even if he was, he wasn't going to fuck you. You were too naughty. Anytime König gave you a kiss or the slightest attention, you would go back to being a brat, smugly bragging about how hard he was for you. "Why don't you go outside and play? Daddy has to work."
You rolled your eyes at his sarcastic remarks, "You know, other boyfriends would be really mad if their cute girlfriend was out every night."
"Good thing I am not your boyfriend, ja?"
His utter rejection made you pout and sit up. You stared at him and then to his paperwork. How could a bunch of papers be more important than you? With a small scoff you got up and went to pick up your stuff.
"You know what, maybe I will go out." You grumbled, König only nodding and shooing you away. Your eyes narrowed and you silently left the room.
Of course, König did feel a little bad. You were just a sweet, bratty thing for him, so needy for his cock and attention, but he just didn't have the energy or libido for it. You two had yet to fuck, nothing more than a few "lucky" touches to help the day go by. There was also maybe a little more to it, he didn't want another wife.
The situation that had happened wasn't something he really cared about, but he regretted going with the flow. With you, he felt the same thing in a different way. You were what was ideally needed by him: time, attention, care, interest. Which at some point were qualities he found in his ex wife at the time. But you were different in the sense where you made his heart pace, and his more primitive instincts take place.
There were times when he saw you curled up in his warm bed, all soft and sexy looking. Your face pressed into a shirt he had peeled off this morning and tossed to you so you wouldn't whine about his missing presence. It intrigued the monstrous and greedy instincts within König, sending him in an uncontrollable thirst. Which lead to him waking you up with some fondling — fondling that obviously pleased you as your cunt got so easily wet for him, you'd wake up mewling for his cock to rut into you. Your sweet sex scent would fill his nose and—
Ugh, he had to stop.
König softly groaned, leaning back in his seat, his eyes glanced around the room, realizing how empty it was. His brows furrowrd, where did you say you were going? He went to his phone; you had forced him to upgrade from that shitty flip phone, though something newer was a bit confusing, he understood the basics. One of the basics you had mentioned to him was access to your location. König did the steps you told him to..only to find your location off.
Huh. How strange. König felt his cock throb, the one time he wanted to fuck and you weren't there. How ironic. König got up from his seat and began to walk around his shitty apartment; there were little things you brought over to "increase his quality of life" as you called it. A heated blanket meant strictly for the couch, your skincare stuff shoved in the bathroom cabinet, even some food you knew he'd never buy for himself. You always looked out for him, always considered him, which was strange. You were this bratty little thing but it was always for him.
König hissed out an irritated breath of air, his body leaning against the wall slightly. His head began to ache with all these thoughts, here he was, all caught up with a younger woman. More than that, he was in love, in love with someone who treated him like no one else have ever has. Sweetly and with care attention he neglected to acknowledge. And now, you were off, doing god knows what, probably cheating on him just like his ex wife did.
König held back an irritated growl, eyes now glancing at the time. How long had it been? It was alright almost midnight, maybe you had gone to your own place? You were never in any obligation to stay with him, and yet you did. Maybe you were out with someone your age, someone who actually had emotions and love to offer you.
"No." König muttered, silencing his spiralling thoughts, "Not again."
He raced to the door, his teeth grinding slightly. As his hand reached for the handle he heard the wiggle of keys against the door. Your soft hum as the door creaked open. It opened slowly, almost teasing his impatient reminisce of you. König was met with your yawning figure staring up at him with lazy, half lidded eyes. You wore different clothes than earlier, a similar fashion to when you first met him. Cute pastels and "fuck me" fishnet stockings.
Your eyes widened slightly with surprise as you met his gaze, head tilting side to side. "König?"
"Don't." König growled, grabbing you by the nape of your neck and tugging you in; you softly yelped, swatting at his arm but his grip didn't lessen, rather it tightened as he slammed the door behind you. König used his opposite hand to lift your neck, then exposed your chest, searching desperately for hickies across your skin; searching for signs you were betraying him.
You could only stare up into his pretty blue eyes that were so angry with emotions you didn't understand. How his brows furrowed and scarred face scrunched. König moved his hand from your nape to your jaw, shaking you gently yet firmly. "Out being a whore, ja?"
That was it? That was why he was so heated? Because he was insecure? Just as you were about to deny the accusations, you considered the opportunity.
"Jealous?"
He growled lowly, "Little slut."
His face pressed against your shoulder, sniffing your sweet scent, such a delicate sweetness that belonged to him, "You're such a whore."
You scoffed and shoved one hand forward, a feeble attempt to create distance, "What do you even care? You don't even want to fuck me.
König yanked you back into his arms, a firm spank to your ass silencing you. "Shut up."
And you did. Listening to his low heavy breathing, his frantic and perverted sniffles of your body. His grip grew tighter, sliding up that tight, pastel skirt you had on to fondle your ass, a light scoff slipping out as he discovered you wore a thong.
And yet, he still found no hickies, no scent of another man, no swelling lips like how he left yours, or a weeping cunt. "Hnm.. so you're not a little whore. So good, my sweet schatz."
König's little croon was rough and raspy. His teeth and tug teasing at your skin, earning goosebumps and shivers from you. As much as you wanted to pull away and bitch at him for not trusting you, he was so desperate right now. You weren't sure for what, but it made you so sticky between the legs.
"König.." You rasped softly, earning a tight grip on your butt.
"Hnm?" He purred softly, pressing you against the shut door. His mouth working hickies and love bites of his own. Claiming his sweet little bitch.
"You want daddy's cock?" König murmured in your ear, a single finger moving aside your panties to rub your clit, you were already wet. How cute.
"Mhm.." You whimped with a nod.
König chuckled, continuing to offer slow, lazy rubs, "Too bad."
His cruel tone made a high pitched mewl emit from your throat, involuntary, yet so sexy. He continue to tease your clit, leaving bruising hickies on your flesh. Making his way down to your nipples to nip and suck at. The little buds hardening as he tongued the flesh gently.
A sharp exhale left your mouth as he slowly rubbed and eased a finger into you. Wet kisses peppering up to your ear, whispering, "Only your daddy can make you feel good, ja?"
You nodded, earning a growl and another spank.
"Say it."
Your face felt so hot, eyes watering, he was so frustrating in all the best ways. Making you say these humiliating and dirty things like the perverse old man he was. You were his college girl fantasy, and he was making sure you played that role. "Only..daddy.. can..make me feel good."
"Mhh..gut.." You loved his praises, especially in German; and he knew it, feeling you dribble down the finger he worked so slowly into your little hole. You cunt clenching on just the tip of his digit, relishing in his cruetly, at the way he violated your insides so gently.
"König..." You whimpered, yelping as he spanked you again. Wrong name. "D..daddy.."
"What is it, my little brat?"
"C..cock..I need your cock."
König giggled raspily, "Stupid little thing you are. Thinking I don't know what your cunt wants."
You whimpered expectantly, hips grinding against his single finger, thicker than yours, but you imagined his cock was thicker. "Please.."
"This is punishment, for trying to lie like the stupid girl you are. Hm? You are lucky I don't abuse that tight throat of yours." König curled his finger against your sweetest spot, gently rubbing at it, the moment your pussy throbbed he yanked the finger out cruelly. A low tut erupting, "Beg for it, liebe."
You whined and leaned into his chest pathetically. All this trouble because you were in your car for the past four hours watching Netflix.
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Arrows and Ashes | 3
Azriel's determined to help you get better. You are determined that you are fine.
WC: 3.6k
Warnings: Pining, friends to lovers, injuries, fluff, some brief unhealthy coping, self-deprecation.
a/n: If you would like notifications for my writing, you can turn on notifications for the blog @assassinslibrary where I reblog all my fics!
Part 1 Part 2
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Azriel couldn't sleep. All night, he stayed by your side, watching your back rise and fall with each breath. He counted them, making sure you were getting enough air, that you were alive and well. And when that didn’t quell the pounding of his heart and the trembling of his hands, he moved closer and listened for the air leaving your lungs and the heartbeat in your chest.
He tried to read to pass the time, picking up the book he had brought in from your bedroom. But the words refused to sink into his brain, and he found himself unable to focus on anything other than you.
Any time his eyes wavered from your form, anxiety pooled in his chest. His eyelids had even become heavy with sleep, but he forced them open again, his shadows swirling around him in irritation.
He realized while sitting in silence that this was the first time you had been in his bedroom for more than a few minutes. He had known you for centuries, since he had been a child, yet he kept his room very private. You would enter occasionally when dropping something off to him, calling him down for dinner, needing to tell him something, or asking him to accompany you somewhere. But spending a longer amount of time together? Normally that occurred outside of either of your bedrooms.
Now, as you laid in his bed, your hair fanned out on the pillow, Azriel couldn’t help but feel like you were meant to be there. You occupied this space like it was your own, despite the aesthetic contrasting so deeply with your vibrant personality. It made something warm pool in his chest, a feeling that reminded him of coming home after a mission or falling asleep after a long day. A feeling he had pushed down until the past few days. One he had tried to ignore out of fear.
A soft groan pulled him out of his thoughts, and he immediately sat up straighter, his heart faltering.
You started to roll over to face away from the wall, your body moving toward him instead. But Azriel jumped to his feet, laying his hands gently on your arm to keep you from turning onto your back.
“Don’t move too much.”
His voice came out as a whisper, as if the volume could pierce you and cause you more pain.
“Azriel?”
“It’s me,” he clarified, scarred fingers stroking soft circles on your bicep. “I’m here.”
You swallowed, and he could feel your body start to tremble beneath his touch. Adrenaline shakes, he surmised -- your body still recovering from the pain and trauma it suddenly endured.
“You don’t have to say anything. You’re in my room, you’re safe. You’ve just been resting.”
Blinking as if trying to orient yourself, you tried to turn again. His strong hands kept you in place.
“Could you-“ you coughed lightly. “Could you help me turn? I want to see you.”
One of his hands moved beneath your knees and the other cradled your back, just beneath your wounds. He lifted you from the bed slightly, moving your body toward him before releasing your legs and encouraging you to turn on your right side to face him, keeping pressure off your back.
When he finally released his hands, his hazel eyes stared into your own.
“Hi,” you whispered.
“Hey,” he spoke softly in return. His fingers gently moved your hair behind your ear.
Your eyes traced his face in silence before you finally moved your gaze away from him, noting where you were.
“Your bed is cozy.”
Azriel had to control his facial expression so as not to reveal his confusion and concern. That was the first thing you thought upon waking?
He gave you a soft smile instead. “Can I get you anything?”
You shook your head, burying yourself further into the blankets. “No, I’m okay.”
There was no way.
But you didn't elaborate and seemed content enough to stay laying there in silence, no acknowledgement of the life-altering event that had occurred to you.
Azriel didn’t like this at all. He had expected you to wake up in pain, whimpering, asking for him or Cassian or Rhys. For you to have been in a panic over your wings, sobbing and mourning them. He had been prepared to comfort you and hold you and explain how you were safe and that those males had been torn to pieces for hurting you.
But you were acting like nothing had even happened.
It was unnerving, and the shadowsinger for once had no read on the situation.
He eyed you carefully. “I’m going to have to change your bandages in a bit.”
You stiffened, your body tensing at his words before relaxing, your eyes feigning nonchalance.
“Later,” you challenged, closing your eyes again. “Is everyone coming for dinner?”
Azriel couldn’t mask his uncertainty over the situation, his brows furrowed and fingers twitching at his sides. “I’m not sure. Are you hungry?”
“You know I’d never turn down something sweet. Do we have any of those chocolate croissants from our cafe?”
“I’ll check. If not, I’ll have Rhys bring you some.”
You smiled, and he stood from where he was sitting by your form, looking at you one last time before crossing the threshold into the hallway so he can check for something to appease your unexpected sweet tooth.
Your entire behavior was unexpected. You wanted to eat. You were smiling. Not at all hinting at the trauma you had been through.
Azriel’s job was to inflict torture onto those in the dungeons (among other tasks). He knew the trauma it caused — the pain, the nightmares, the way it would permanently break some fae. He wasn’t sure if what had happened had not caught up to you yet, if you were in shock still, or if you were pretending to be okay, unwilling to show weakness in front of him.
Both possibilities made something twist in his stomach.
He forced his feet to move away from where you curled up in bed, shutting the door softly behind him and making his way to the kitchen. It was empty still, save for the bundles of daisies Rhys had dropped off at Azriel’s request. The high lord hadn’t questioned the order for the flowers, only leaving a note with them that said they all love you.
The two large bouquets looked silly now to the shadowsinger. Of course, he was hoping they would make you happy based on your past joy from flowers, but with everything that happened? They seemed so small in comparison.
He shook the thoughts from his head, instead looking around the counters and cabinets for any sign of your favorite treats. When he found none, he wrote a letter to Rhys seeing if he could deliver some of those chocolate croissants per your request. Once the high lord knew you were awake, he would probably do just about anything you asked.
Azriel sighed in defeat, bringing one of the bouqets back to the room with him so he wasn’t empty-handed.
He paused outside of the door, trying to settle his nerves. His shadows only swirled around him in agitation, and he tried to soothe them back to his sides. Only when he went to shush them, though, did he realize why they were unsettled.
A quiet whimper sounded from the other side of the door, followed by a sniffle and a small choked sob.
Azriel immediately opened the door, not hesitating to knock or make sure you were decent. His eyes scanned the room hurriedly, noting the tossed blankets on his bed and the light spilling from the bathroom.
He walked into the entryway, body instinctually turning toward your presence, guiding him toward the cracked door on the left. You shouldn’t be out of bed without assistance, and he definitely didn’t want you to be in there crying alone. He quickly placed the flowers on the desk next to the door before he peered into the open doorway, eyes immediately drawn to your red rimmed ones. You weren’t looking at him, though. Your eyes were turned over your bare shoulder, looking at the reflection of your back in the mirror.
Your back. Azriel's stomach dropped at the sight.
He hadn’t seen it all cleaned up without the bandages yet. It was still somehow just as gruesome as when it was splayed open and bloody on that table.
The wounds were large. Crescent-shaped and still healing. They were deep, gouged into the skin, and anyone else would look at them and call them ugly, an eye-sore, a blemish marking what would have been beautiful skin. Not Azriel, though. Never Azriel. Not when he still ran his own fingers along his scarred palms when nervous.
He slowly inched the door open further, the movement catching your eye and causing you to quickly turn your back to him, your arms crossing to cover your bare chest.
It was silent, your startled eyes searching his own for some sort of reaction. Did you expect him to be disgusted by your? By your scars?
In a way, he was. He didn't think you were disgusting in any way, but the act that was committed against you, the pain you had gone through in those moments, Cassian's memories still flashing in his mind -- that was what disgusted him.
You swallowed, and Azriel was moving before you could say something. He walked around you in a way that was cautious but attempting to be casual as to not put you on edge. He didn't face your back right away, especially as he felt you stiffen as he passed your side, and instead reached toward the counter where one of Madja's creams sat.
Unscrewing the lid, he finally made his presence known close behind you, pausing to let you breathe through your nerves before gently moving the hair that had fallen back over your shoulder. You shivered at the movement, but you didn't flee. You didn't tell him no.
So he gently dipped his fingers into the medicine, bringing it carefully up to the first of your wounds, still red and angry and glaring at him as if he were an enemy. He so very gently covered one edge with the white substance. You flinched at the feeling but still said nothing, so he continued, holding his breath and waiting for you to either lash out or break down.
Neither came though.
You stood still as can be, letting him apply the cream and dress your wounds, even taking the wrap from him and around your front to help hold the gauze in place. When he finally finished, he pulled your hair back from where it laid over your shoulder, letting it flow beautifully down your back, no longer suffocating the space by your neck. Then he walked back around to your front, meeting your gaze immediately and refusing to let it go.
Azriel tried to read what you were thinking, what you were feeling. But you only blinked away the remaining tears as if you were breaking out of a stupor.
You stood up taller, putting a faux smile on your face. "No chocolate croissants? I'm disappointed, Shadowsinger. You know Cassian wouldn't have returned without them."
A sharp pain twisted in his chest at your deflection, at your so obvious false display of contentment.
"Daisy-" he started, voice low and quiet.
"Why don't we go pick some up? You can use your shadows to get us to the gate right?"
"Daisy-"
You made your way toward the door, stumbling and moving slowly with your body's new imbalance and soreness. "Then you can go see everyone else. You shouldn't have to babysit-"
"Daisy."
You halted at his tone. The strong, demanding voice filled with such concern and care.
"You don't have to do this," he said.
He couldn't see your face, but he could almost picture your haunted look as you took a moment to collect yourself, your voice shaking when you finally spoke.
"Do what?"
"Pretend." He sighed. "You don't have to pretend with me."
Taking a deep breath, you shrugged. "I don't know what you want me to say."
"You don't have to say anything. I just want you to feel what you need to feel. You have been through a lot, and it's not good for you to just pretend like it didn't happen."
He walked closer to you, approaching you from behind, but you whirled around before he could get too close, gripping the doorway to stop yourself from stumbling.
"Of course I can't pretend like nothing happened. My wings are gone, Azriel. They are gone. My back feels like its been shredded -- like someone took me down to the butcher in Velaris to play with. And every day I will see those scars, feel those scars. I will watch as Rhys, Cassian, and you all fly, and I will forever be grounded. I will never again feel the wind in my hair or leap from the balcony. My body is changed; half of who I am has been taken from me, so I'm sorry if I don't know who I'm supposed to be after that."
By the end of your outburst, you were breathing heavy, choking on sobs that threatened to come up. Azriel watched as you swayed, your still healing and exhausted body needing rest, and he stepped closer.
"You aren't supposed to be anyone," he started, tears filling his own eyes. "You will always be Daisy, no one can take that away."
When he reached where you were standing, you shook your head, backing up into the bedroom as tears began to fall down your cheeks.
"You don't understand-"
"You're right. I could never understand. But I still want to help. Let me help, please."
"You can't help me. You can't go back in time or reattach my wings. I’m no longer me, I’m ruined.”
Azriel lunged forward at your words, propelled by something deep in his chest to correct you, to defend the sweet girl in front of him. His eyes were wild with hurt as he grasped your face between his palms, guiding your teary eyes to his own.
“Don’t you dare say that. You are the same girl who walked out of this house days ago. You are strong and brave and selfless, and everything you have lost is proof of that. You are not ruined, you are everything.”
You only looked at him, lip quivering as you tried to listen to him and hold back your sobs.
You shook your head slightly. “I’ll never be able to fly with you again.”
“I’ll take you.” Azriel vowed, voice deep and resolute. “I will carry you wherever you’d like.”
“I can’t even walk balanced-”
“My shadows will help support you while you recover. I will help support you.”
You looked away from him, tears filling your eyes once again. The words that came next were small, insecure. "No one will want me like this."
It took Azriel a few seconds to realize what you meant, because he could never dream of not wanting you. They all had trauma and nightmares, but you were referencing your scars, your forever-marked body. Madja had been able to close the wounds, but the worst ones had scarred. The lashings that had become infected in those dungeons had scarred. Only days ago you had been scar free save for a few. Not, you had hills and valleys of rough textured skin on your back, abdomen, thighs...
And you were the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. Every scar a testament to your love and devotion to your family, a testament to your strength. He wanted more than just you, he wanted to worship you. He wanted to lay you down and cater to your every need, to massage and kiss every inch of your healing body, to show you just how beautiful he found you.
He swallowed, passion and an overwhelming amount of love filling his chest. It nearly ached. He directed you to look at him again. Nearly commanded it with his grip on you.
"I want you. In every form, in every life, in every universe. You are everything."
His words were strong, confident, and warm. He was pleading with you to believe him, to see and hear the truth that was right there.
You looked at him, studied him. Azriel knew your teary eyes were watching closely for a crack in his resolute stance. You would find none, though.
Eventually you sniffed, your eyebrows furrowing slightly as you asked in a sweet but broken voice, "What if your mate had these faults?"
Azriel didn't even have time to be shocked at the question, because he was immediately retaliating against your self-deprecation. "They are not faults. They are a part of you, of your story, and of your selflessness. They encompass so much of your beautiful heart in them, they could never be a fault."
The insinuation made him angry, but he tried to tamp down those feelings. You needed reassurance, not a reprimand.
You didn't even flinch at his response. Instead, you held his gaze and tried to cover the meekness making its way into your voice by standing up straighter. Azriel held you firm, steadying your balance with his shadows and his own feet against yours.
"And you'd still be saying this? If it was your mate?"
He was surprised the question didn't have that much of an effect on him. Anyone else bringing up mates normally had him tensing, snapping, getting defensive and changing the subject. From you though, It was comforting. Natural.
"Especially if it was my mate. But they would be able to feel all of this from me too. I would make sure they always knew they were wanted. I'd tell them everyday how beautiful they are, I'd get them sweet foods to make them feel better, I'd surprise them with flowers..."
As if the words summoned your eyes to them, he saw you see the giant bouquet of daisies sitting on his desk by the door. Your eyes widened slightly, your brows furrowing and chest rising a bit more rapidly. Azriel tightened his grip on you to steady you further.
He tilted his head to bring your gaze back to his own. "You are wanted, Daisy. I loved you before this, and I love you now. I will continue to love you always. Because you are you."
His words cracked something within you, because the next thing he knew, he was catching your weight against him. Your cheek pressed against his chest and your arms wrapped around his back, and then you were letting out such a heart-wrenching sob that Azriel immediately held you as tight as he could. He wished he could take all of the pain away, all of the haunting memories and nightmares. Any threats or fears, he vowed to fight them for you. Do anything until a smile was back on your pretty face.
"I want you too. I love you too," you mumbled into his chest.
It was only a few minutes before your sniffs subsided, and you pulled back with red splotchy cheeks and swollen eyes, skin wet with tears. Azriel cleared the hair from your face, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.
"You're my mate."
The words were so quiet, Azriel almost missed them.
But he couldn't. How could he? Mate, you had said. Him.
He was shocked enough at the acknowledgement of a physical bond between the two of you that he probably looked absurd, but he wasn't that shocked at the Cauldron deeming you two well-suited. After all, he had cared for you as more than a friend for months now, even if he had tried not to acknowledge it in fear of rejection.
He breathed, allowing his love for you to fill his veins, fill his very heart and soul. And then he met your sparkling eyes, still slightly watery from minutes prior.
And he felt it.
Deep within his chest, it's presence slowly becoming more prominent, was a golden thread. A tether that thrummed inside of him and brought him to you. A tug nearly sent him reeling.
"Your mate," was all he said.
"Yes," you whispered, still a little sniffly. "And I'm yours."
He let out a wet, happy chuckle, tears beginning to coat his own cheeks.
"You're mine," he repeated.
He made sure you were stable before grasping your face in his hands once again, bringing his lips to your cheek, then your forehead, then your other cheek, then your nose, and then your lips. He peppered them all over your face and arms, over the lacerations. He let the warmth in his chest take over and sing a song he had never known. The song escaped his lips in the form of kisses, in the form of I love you, my beautiful Daisy, and I'm so glad you're safe.
Only once he had regained control of his actions, he let his forehead rest on your own.
"You're mine," he said once again. "My everything."
And he knew you felt it.
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Sleeping inside her | Matt Sturniolo pt. 2
Matt Sturniolo x reader
Summary: Where Matt wakes up the next morning and just wants to fuck Y/N.
Warning: Smut (mdni), somnophilia (consented!), p in v, fem masturbation.
Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.
Part 1
༻✦༺ ༻✧༺ ༻✦༺
Matt felt his senses slowly return the next morning. The sun that came through the cracks in the blinds kept the room warm and welcoming, warming the blanket that covered his body. The sounds of birds outside and Y/N's light breathing filling the space.
The boy tried to move, holding his breath for a moment as he felt his cock being pressed by his girlfriend's walls, keeping him warm and hard, then remembering how they went to sleep the night before.
His blue eyes closed as Matt tried to focus on anything but his completely naked girlfriend next to him as his cock was buried inside her, the scent of her skin keeping him high. But all his self control was lost when his girl's hot, sticky walls squeezed him tightly while she was still asleep, seeming to want to expel him out or bring him in more, Matt wasn't sure.
The boy wrapped his left arm around Y/N's waist again, careful not to wake her, before lifting his own left leg and placing his foot on the bed, so that he could guide his movements more easily.
Matt pushed his hips back until only his head was inside, before slowly inserting his length again, letting out a breathy sigh at the delicious sensation, thanking Y/N for using lube the night before, which along with her wetness made the contact easier and more pleasant.
Matt rested his forehead on Y/N's shoulder, closing his eyes and focusing on the sensation, his hand going to one of the girl's tit on instinct, massaging the area carefully.
His hips seemed to take on a rhythm that he was already very well accustomed to and would never tire of doing, a calm and slow one, specific to moments when he wanted to love his girl and feel every little part of her perfect body.
His back flexed with his movements, sweat starting to accumulate on the back of his neck and biceps as low pants fell from his lips.
The wet sound that Y/N's pussy made with each thrust was the only thing that filled the room, increasing Matt's arousal.
It didn't take long for the girl to wake up, a moan escaping her lips before her eyes even opened.
"Matt- Fuck." Y/N moaned slowly, pushing her hips back against the brunette's pelvis, eliciting a low moan from him.
"Morning baby." Matt said in a low voice, the fingers of his left hand now able to pinch his girl's hard nipples, pulling them, making Y/N arch her back so that her ass was completely pert and her chest was fully forward.
Matt's right arm, which had previously served as a pillow for his girlfriend, was now around her neck, forcing her head back so that he could see her expression over her shoulder. Y/N's right hand quickly snaked its way until it stopped on Matt's arm, which served as her special necklace at that moment, squeezing the spot tightly as she licked her lips, wetting them.
One of the greatest pleasures for the boy was watching his girlfriend's pleasured features as they fucked or made love, the way her eyes rolled back and her eyelashes fluttered, the way her mouth opened in a perfect circle as her tongue lolled out or arched inside her mouth at the sensation, sometimes her full lips being bitten hard by her teeth in an attempt to silence her loud moans.
Matt was able to adjust his feet so that his thrusts were deeper and stronger, but keeping them slow, not wanting to break the spell of the moment. His cock moving in and out of Y/N at a single pace, taking out almost everything and then thrusting his entire length until his red head hit the spongy spot that made his girl see stars.
"Does it feel good, baby? Does it feel good to feel my cock moving in and out of you so easily? 'Was made for me, hm?" Matt whispered against Y/N's ear, hearing her gasp and moan in response.
The girl took her left hand to Matt's back, grabbing his ass and forcing him to go deeper, rolling against his hip and Matt followed her movements, Y/N's eyes rolling as she felt his dick hit points inside her that she didn't think was possible
Sex, fuck or love was always like this with Matt, no matter how many times the two got intimate, the boy always managed to surprise her.
Matt moaned hoarsely when Y/N made a specific movement that made his dick twitch, feeling suffocated by her moist walls. He lifted his left hand, which was previously on her tits, and brought it to her bare shoulder, removing the strands of hair stuck there by sweat, planting kisses on the area, his blue eyes opening and closing constantly, feeling like he could drown in the intense pleasure.
That same hand snaked down his girlfriend's body, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind, stopping at her hip momentarily, where he squeezed tightly, smiling at the idea of being able to look at the area later and see the imprint of his fingers adorning her skin in a perfect way, almost like an art.
Y/N felt unable to form coherent words, moans, and murmurs escaping her lips along with gasps and sighs, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration and pleasure, wanting to stay there forever.
Y/N's body twitched on its own as Matt moved his fingers nimbly across her clit suddenly, his hand going from her hip to her pleasure point in seconds, moving his index and middle fingers in circles and then up and down at its own pace, his hand acting automatically as if that action was already engraved in his memory.
"Fuck, look at you, I could watch you like this all day." Matt murmured, his blue eyes fixed on Y/N's face.
His hand acted quickly to lift his girlfriend's left leg into the air, his fingers pressing the inside of her knee, starting firm and faster thrusts, looking for his own orgasm, wanting to reach it with his girl. Matt took his cock out only halfway and came back in with force, making Y/N feel each of his veins massage her walls and his head press against her magic spot. Her hip movements became more frantic and uneven as her head fell further back, slamming the back of it against Matt's shoulder, telling him that she was close to her orgasm.
"Please Matt, I need- Please..." Y/N begged, unable to form a complete sentence, only able to think about reaching her peak.
"Do you want to cum, babe? Are you going to give me one, hm?" Matt asked against the top of her head, closing his eyes as he felt his own orgasm begin to rise.
"Please. Please, Matt, please." Was all Y/N could say, her hands clenching into fists in their respective places, marking her boyfriend's skin and crumpling the sheets.
"Cum for me, love." Matt whispered and his approval was what made Y/N collapse, her legs shook incessantly as her stomach contracted, the fingers of her hand taking on a white color with the strength the girl used in her grip, her head pushing firmly against Matt's shoulder as her eyes rolled back tightly, her mouth open in a perfect O as loud moans escaped her rosy lips.
The image along with the way Y/N's pussy squeezed Matt's dick tighter than before brought him to his own orgasm, strong and hot jets reaching the depths of his girlfriend's pussy. His left hand went down from the girl's knee to her thigh, squeezing the area tightly, while his right hand, still around her neck, clenched into a fist in pleasure. His own thighs shook from the intense orgasm as his mouth opened and gasps and sighs came from his lips, along with some moans and calls of his girlfriend's name.
A few seconds passed and the two felt the waves of pleasure gradually diminish, their minds becoming active again as panting echoed through the walls of their shared room.
Y/N opened her eyes slowly, her vision adjusting to the brightness of the room that was almost imperceptible before, lowering her leg that was still in the air.
Matt took his length out of his girlfriend slowly, afraid of hurting her, knowing how sensitive she would be, his left hand going to her stomach and caressing the area affectionately, kissing her shoulder repeatedly.
The girl lightly squeezed Matt's arm one last time, before taking her hand away, turning on her boyfriend's bicep so that she was now facing him. Matt's right hand quickly found comfort in Y/N's hair, caressing it.
"Hi." She smiled big, her eyes shining with love.
"Hi." He responded, laughing lowly as he brought his face closer to hers, his lips finally finding the ones he loved so much, his tongue passing through Y/N's closed lips, wetting them and asking for passage, which was granted.
A slow kiss began, the kind that makes you want to stay there forever, the kind that allows you to breathe through your nose calmly, lengthening the time of the gesture.
Y/N broke the kiss, placing her forehead against Matt's and closing her eyes, breathing in, absorbing the natural scent of the brunette's skin and the lavender of the blanket.
"I love you." Matt whispered, his left hand making a calm and affectionate path from her thigh to her waist, touching his nose to hers in an eskimo kiss.
"I love you more." She responded, letting out a low laugh at the gesture and moving closer, pressing their bodies together, her face settling against Matt's chest so that the top of her head was under his chin, her right arm wrapping around his waist. A sigh of relief and comfort escaped her lips, her mind convincing her to enter a state of sleep again.
"Sleep, baby. Today, we have the day to ourselves." The brunette muttered, knowing it was Saturday, so she had no work, and he had no videos to record. His lips found the top of her head, kissing the area for long seconds while he inhaled through his nose, instantly relaxing, being able to enter the world of dreams again.
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Alright, y'all, here's the plan: you're not quite aware of what Toji does for work, yet you keep quiet. But one night, the man comes home bleeding, and you can't keep your worries to yourself anymore. However, for your protection, Toji isn't ready to reveal his assassin business to you. And, in the heat of the moment, ends up saying something that hurts you instead...
A/n: (Reuploaded bc I forgot smthn) This prompt was picked from a poll to celebrate the 300+ followers milestone (pssst tysm for 450+ you lovelies :D) two weeks back. Truthfully, I don't think this is my best work after proofreading, but I did my best. Probably bc 1) it's longer than I intended, and 2) I procrastinated waaaaay too much with this. I don't even think I made sense halfway through, lol, but fuck it, we ball. Anyways, like last time, there is art drawn by me (@hoshigaby) but it'll be found deep in the fic :33
I hope you enjoy the ride and reblogs + replies are much appreciated!! Also, don't be alarmed that Y/n in the drawing looks of a dark complexion, feel free to use your imagination if it doesn't suit you. But do not edit it; be an adult and ignore it if it's not your taste.
Cw: Toji x fem!reader - arguing/yelling - fingering (fem! receiving) - mating press - Daddy kink - first Toji is sour, then he's sweet bc he's whipped for you :) - clitoral play (pressing down and a pinch) - praise - breast fondling + nipple play - pet names (angel, baby, darlin', honey, kid, mama/ma, princess, sweetheart/sweetie) - Megumi mean-mugging his father while Tsumiki and Shiu Kong tell him to do better lol - mentions of blood and stab wound; isn't fully healed so reopens.
Wc: 5.8k
"Uhh, are you sleeping on the couch?"
"Yes. Yes, I am."
"...Why??"
You scrunch your brow at your phone, looking at the two people you're talking to through the screen. "I know you're not about to get on my case over where I'm sleeping."
On the L-shaped couch lay you, cuddled up with a fluffy blanket and memory foam pillow, one hand holding your phone while another wrapped around a stuffed plushy. You were on a video call with your best friends: Utahime and Mei Mei.
Utahime, lying on her bed with a face mask, replied to you. "Oh, I'm definitely getting on your case because it's supposed to be the other way around!"
"True, but I like the couch anyways." You puff at the woman who's not satisfied with your answer. "Plus, I'm on the L-part of the couch, so it's practically like a bed!"
Your other friend, Mei Mei, chuckles at her screen. Icy blue hair pulled up in a bun with reading glasses positioned atop her forehead, probably counting her tips on her desk like she always does before bed. "My my, this is the fourth night this week. What did your man say to make you this upset?"
Memories of what happened before come back to you, and so does the exhausting irritation you've been trying to keep at bay.
It was a quiet night like this one as the rain fell hard on the silent streets. You've just put Tsumiki and Megumi to sleep and waited in the living room, watching a movie to pass the time. It was pretty late into the night when you heard the door open as drowsiness settled in. Nevertheless, you got up to greet the man you'd been waiting for coming from the entrance, but you weren't prepared for the sight that instantly woke you up.
Toji Fushiguro, groaning and leaning against the wall with his black jean jacket drenched from the rain. A hand was clenched on the left side of his torso, deep red tarnishing his plain white shirt. He was heaving in an attempt to even his breathing, but when he caught a glimpse of you standing before him, he was quick to try and play it off with a worn-out grin. "Hey, baby." His familiar deep voice was strained in subtle agony.
Worry bubbles within, and you rush towards him. "Oh my God, Toji, what happened!?" You remind yourself to not be too loud as the children are still asleep, so you rely on whisper yellings while walking him up to your shared bedroom.
Even in the room, Toji doesn't explain himself. Just silent hushes and cajoles that he's alright. "I'm fine, honey. Just tell me where's the first aid box." Pointing at the bathroom cabinet, you watch him leave your side to grab the kit. The crimson spilling from him is caused by a stab wound he reveals when he sits on the bathtub, lifting his shirt. You can feel your eyes water, imagining the pain he's going through when he hisses from putting on rubbing alcohol on the gash.
The words you want to say feel so forbidden. Your fingers fidget amongst themselves with the irregular beat of your chest. Don't say it, Y/n. Keep your mouth shut. Don't—
"Is this from work?"
Green eyes shoot back in your direction, and you immediately feel yourself sinking into a pool of regret.
Talk of Toji's occupation wasn't something you brought up much. Even at the beginning of your relationship, he didn't indulge in any insights about what he does, so you eventually quit after a few failed attempts. However, with all the nights he's come home while you sleep or the new scars you point out yet are brushed off, your anxiousness for him keeps festering. And seeing him with his own blood on his hands made you wonder how many nights he has pulled off doing such without your knowledge.
Toji's eyes go back to his wound. "Don't worry 'bout it." The stern tone of his voice has your blood turn cold. He didn't want to entertain this, especially in the wee hours of the night.
And yet you still persist. "No, Toji, I'm serious." You can see him glare at you through the raven bangs shading his forehead. A warning. But it doesn't stop you. "I'm getting worried about you."
From there was when the argument came. Every point you've made to him was shut down at once. His cold responses pierced you. Usually, you'd do what you can to avoid this type of confrontation. But now, it hurts even more when he doesn't cooperate with you, your concerns disregarded like rubbish.
"Damn it, Y/n!" Toji barks at you, seething through the physical pain as a fist bangs hard on the bathroom cabinet. "Why's it so hard for you to stay out of this?"
"Well, if you would tell me things instead of pushing me out the way, then maybe I wouldn't have to!" At this point, you're fighting the tears from falling. Your face hot with frustration, but you still speak. "Toji, I've done so much for you and the kids, and I—"
"No one told you to do—"
"Yet I STILL do!" It's your turn to yell. "I care about you deeply, same with Tsumiki and Megumi. I don't ask for much, Toji. But I want you to open your life to me just a little, even when you're hurt like this!"
His emerald eyes remain rigid despite your pleas to him. And what he said next had you still to the core. You can recall the beat of your heart corrupting your senses while the tears stride down.
"If you were goin' to be a thorn on my side like this, I wouldn't have let you be in it in the first place."
"He said WHAT!!??" Utahime shrieks after you retell the situation to your friends.
You nod your head. "I just looked at him, and he looked at me. Then I turned, picked my pillow up, and headed downstairs to this couch."
To say the dark-haired woman was livid was an understatement. "And tell me WHY this fucker isn't the one sleeping on this couch, again??"
"Even if I did tell him to sleep on the couch, he probably would say something like, 'Tch, why should I? I pay bills for this damn house,' and yadda, yadda." This is true, apart from the man being injured, so having him move would've been immoral. "Plus, I just really wanted to get outta the room, so I went ahead and moved myself out."
"So? You pay bills too, what the hell!? Good God, Y/n," Utahime shakes her head. "You sure we can't pummel this dude?"
"Yes, I'm sure. Besides, I'm getting used to ignoring him when I see him around the house. But, oh my God, guys, his kids," the phone panned down to the plush toy and the pink, fluffy blanket. "Miki saw me sleeping here the other morning and gave me this blanket. And Gumi — he's such a sweetie. He gave me his favorite froggy toy to sleep with to scare off his dad from 'bothering me in my dreams.' "
"Hmm, how adorable." Mei Mei comments. "Funny how such darlings can come from a guy like that."
Utahime nods rapidly and throws in her opinion. "Listen, Y/n, you shouldn't think you outta be in every part of that man's life. Even so, he should at least know how to compromise. I mean, come on, you take care of him, the kids, the house, and go to work with us. All of that just for you to sleep on a couch!?"
"You're not gonna let this couch thing go, aren't you?" The pale blue-haired woman chuckles again, and Utahime sighs. "But she's right, Y/n. It takes a certain kind of person to have the patience to do what you do in a relationship with a single father and two children. I'm sure Utahime would've left with all her hair out."
The dark-haired one gets up from her bed and takes her device with her, heading to the bathroom to finish her skin care. "Now, why am I the one used as an example?"
"Because you're the most vocal about a relationship that isn't yours." A sly smile is painted on Mei Mei's face after she hears a 'hmph!' from the other as Utahime removes the mask and washes her face. "My point is that you like this man — love him even. But that love shouldn't cost you to be so emotionally drained. Perhaps he understands this, except it wasn't the perfect moment for you two to express yourselves. Maybe talk to him when you two stop the silent treatment."
All you do is hum aimlessly, too wrapped in what your friend said to give a proper response. Then you yawn, your body signaling you to finally rest. "I'll sleep on that thought. Night, girlies~~" You wave and send kisses to the other two. They do the same as you leave the video call, placing the phone on the coffee table and snuggling up with the blanket and plush toy.
You try to distract yourself by thinking of what you'll do tomorrow. You gotta get up and make breakfast for Tsumiki and Megumi before waking them up, then head to the station and take the bus to work. Maybe you can finally try that new café close by with Mei Mei and Utahime for lunch. And when you return home, you should whip up something fun for the kids to eat.
Perhaps, make something for Toji since he sometimes forgets to feed himself when you're not around. Or if he's leaving for work, wish him a safe trip back home like always. And...if he's down for it...you can find the right time......to talk...about......
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The moment you closed your eyes, it felt as though you were sleeping on your own bed again. When you turn to your side, your body descends into the feeling of cold sheets beneath you. It was pretty comfy! Plus, the blanket—
Wait...Sheets?
Your eyes slowly open to the sight of bedsheets underneath you. Navigating out of the sleepy stupor, you make out parts of your surroundings to know that you're not in the living room anymore. You slowly rise up to face the door of the bedroom. Your shared bedroom.
A sudden cough alerts you, forced as if to grab your attention. A chill crawls up your spine. Oh God, no. You turn to the side to see the man accompanying his side of the bed. And there he was, Toji, lying on his side with his head resting on a hand, looking dead at you. His raven hair looked damp from a recent shower, sporting only a grey wifebeater and dark sweatpants.
"Hey," is all he says to you. No smirk and no nickname followed with the greeting. Just a simple address to you with his green eyes softly watching yours. You almost fall into their inviting spell the more you look at them.
Nonetheless, it's not compelling enough since you remember he's the man you fought with four days ago — the same man you weren't prepared to see right now. You quickly turn away from him and lift the comforter to exit the room. However, Toji grabbed your wrist before your feet could touch the floor, his grip too strong for you to pull away from him.
You avoid eye contact with him, your back facing him. "Toji, let me go. I'm going to sleep."
"Then sleep."
"On the couch, Toji." You try and pull again. Nothing.
"Fuck that, just sleep here. I didn't carry you up here for nothin'."
You shake your head as you exhale through your nose. Of course, he carried me here. "Whatever happened to you not wanting me to be a part of your life?"
The words that left your lips surprised you and the grip around your wrist tightens. You didn't mean to say them, but it was the truth because they were his own words. Or did you?
Still facing away from Toji, you're unable to see his reaction. Oh shit, is he angry? Is he going to let me go after that?
"Darlin', please..." His deep voice hushed for only you to hear. "I just really need you with me here. Just for tonight...." His hold lessens, leaving you to decide whether you should stay.
The silence is uncomfortable for both of you — especially for Toji, who has you where he wants you to be, where you're supposed to be. As seconds pass when he doesn't hear from you, the nervousness that used to exist before your relationship rises back into the pit of his stomach. And his soul drops down when you remove your wrist from his hand.
Though, to his surprise, your hand lifts the comforter up while your legs move back on top of the mattress. You lay back down with a sigh, your back still facing Toji. "Did you give Miki back her blanket?"
Toji exhales quietly, situating himself back on his side of the bed. "Yeah, and Megumi with his toy."
You hum, and the silence fills the room once more.
Toji looks at nothing but your figure next to him, watching the rise and fall of your shoulder as you breathe silently, your face nestled comfortably on the pillow. To think it's been half a week since he last saw you in this room is hard to believe.
That night when you left him really stuck with him. The image of your face covered in tears was all he envisioned, the same with you grabbing your pillow and exiting the room. After tending his stab wound, he went down to talk it out. Yet when Toji saw you sleeping soundly on the couch with dried tears painting your pretty face, he didn't dare wake you up and just went to bed.
And it was worse the following days. Not only did he have you avoiding him at every chance, but he had to deal with the judgmental looks of his children. Never in his life has he seen Megumi give him glares that meant business. If looks could kill, Toji would be finished. And Tsumiki, his sweet little girl, now pesters him about being nice to Y/n, saying he should think about their feelings and apologize.
But what about his feelings? Does no one understand that he was just trying to keep you out of business that you didn't need to fret over? He's very aware that his job is not a normal one. It's dangerous, and anyone around him can get hurt or worse. Hence, keeping you away from this part of his life keeps you and his family safe. If not knowing he's an assassin keeps you from harm's way, why change that.
At least...that's what he thought, not what he said.
Even Shiu Kong, his handler, had something to say after telling him what had happened during lunch today. "Wow. I knew you were trash, but I didn't know you were that dumb, too." The man snickers when Toji shoves a middle finger his way. Shiu lights another cigarette after discarding the one he finishes. "Well, how were they supposed to know you were watching out for them? If someone you love comes to your front door bloody and sick, whose safety are you worrying about?"
Toji says nothing to that, letting the other man resume speaking some sense into him after taking a long sig from his cigarette.
"Look. I can't promise that this angel of yours wants to stay with you after what you said. That's all up to them. But until they decide that, I hope your dumbass realizes when someone sticks with you literally through blood and pain, that's someone who cares for you to the Moon and back. Not saying you should tell them what you do, but a nice word or two of comfort is all they need. If you're not that big of an idiot, reconcile and let them know you care about them."
"...Reconcile and let them know you care about them..."
If there's one thing that Toji has trouble with, it's knowing how to use his words. It was a tiny problem in the earlier stages of your relationship, but as time flew, you could guess how much the tall man cherishes you by his actions rather than words.
The older man knows that you know he loves you. But now, when he's pushed into a position where words are necessary to portray his real feelings for you, he feels stumped.
"If you were goin' to be a thorn on my side like this, I wouldn't have let you be in it in the first place."
Toji grimaces at his own words replaying in his head. Why the fuck did I say that?
"Whatever happened to you not wanting me to be a part of your life?"
Your words ring in his mind. Why did I fuckin' say that for? What the hell is wrong with me? What did—
"Toji?"
He returns to reality, eyes moving back to your still silhouette.
"I know you're still awake, so I'm gonna ask this." Toji braces himself for whatever your soft voice muttered. "Whatever job you're doing, is it a dangerous one?"
Shit. The dreaded talk is here, and Toji cannot escape it.
"Yeah."
"Are you good at your job?"
"It's the only thing I'm good at."
You nod your head aimlessly to his answer. Then you turn around to face the anxious older man. The moonlight peaking through the window blinds illuminates your face beautifully while Toji's breathing slows.
"I don't think that's true," you continue to answer. "You're good at being a father to Tsumiki and Megumi. Not the best, but a decent one nonetheless. You're also good at caring for me; letting me live with you and your family proves that. And lastly," Toji gulps with a dry throat.
"You're good at loving. You say you're lousy at it, but there's love in everything you do for me. It's there when you look at me whenever you think I'm unaware. Or when you silently grab my hand when in crowded areas. Or," a small chuckle exits from you. "When you carry me up from downstairs to the bedroom."
Toji's jade eyes lock in with yours, waiting for you to avert your gaze away from him. But you don't. You keep looking at him. You keep spoiling him. This type of recognition is something Toji never thought he deserved, so you giving it to him so effortlessly makes his growing guilt eat him alive.
"I care about you so much, Toji." You shift closer to Toji and bring a hand to his cheek, causing the man to lift his brows. Your face is only a few inches away from his. "What happened yesterday really scared me. All I could think about was the wound and all the scars you have. Where they all came from and how deep they are. Or......you never coming back."
"Baby..." Toji absently refers to you with a sweet name, placing his big hand on top of yours on his cheek. He lets you finish.
"I know you can't guarantee coming back to me unscathed, but I just want you to promise me something: please let me know you'll be okay. When you're gone, I can only hope you make it back home safely. So, just promise to not get yourself killed." A sheepish smile is used to ease the serious tone. "Even if I'm not in your life, I'm sure Tsumiki and Megumi would be pretty upset to not have you around."
Toji scoffs. "Trust me, I'm sure they'd leave me the moment you step out the door." That makes you laugh, and it has the man swooning hearing it. His hand moves to your cheek, and you allow him to stroke it with a thumb. "And I wouldn't blame 'em. Havin' such a beautiful and loving angel slip through my fingers?"
"Toji..."
"I'm sorry for what I said and scarin' you like that. If you aren't here with me, as part of my life and all, then I don't think I can't make a promise like that. You're too good fr' me, and I'm sorry if I didn't seem to appreciate you until now."
And you know he's genuine with his plea, his green eyes gauging your reaction to see if he's worth another chance. All you do is sigh and lift yourself up, wipe his wet bangs from his forehead, and kiss it. "Not the best apology, but I accept it."
He drones, relishing the feeling of your lips on him again. "So, are we cool, kid?"
"Yeah," you peer down at him with a smile, and he does the same. "We're cool. However, if you ever yell at me again, don't be surprised when I pack my bags."
"Oh yeah?" Toji raises a brow. "I'll be careful, then."
"You better." Hushed chuckles are shared to comfort the silence, enjoying the closeness between you two that felt like forever to have again. Just the two of you with you giggling above him and the light from the window cascading an ethereal glow to your features. Your teeth shied behind pretty lips, lips he wanted to kiss.
And you catch him looking. You notice him wanting you, needing you. Just as much as you need him. You slowly lean down to his face, planting your soft lips on his rigid pair.
Toji's surprised by the action for a moment, but he moans into your mouth and pulls you into him closer. The kiss starts off nice and slow yet quickly changes to one filled with passion and desire. Teeth clashing, tongues exchanging, sweet moans paired with aroused groans.
As you two are lost in each other's lips, Toji carefully maneuvers you on your back with him on top of you. Your legs find purchase around his waist as he rocks into your core, rocking your hips together in a steady rhythm by the second.
His hand snakes down to your lower region, fingers brushing past your pajamas and onto your panty-covered vulva. The intrusion has you breaking the kiss with heavy breaths filling the silent, moonlit room. He busses your chin down to your neck as shaky mewls slip out your mouth.
"Haaah, Toji, we shouldn't. It's late—Hmmm..." Your whimpers don't stop him from pulling your pajamas and undergarments off.
"It's okay, sweetheart, lemme make it up to you." He says in-between kisses on your clavicle, pulling up your shirt to reveal your bare chest. His free hand fondles a breast before his mouth goes for the other. "Let Daddy take care of you..."
The sudden combination of his thick fingers intruding between your nether folds and his mouth sucking and licking your sensitive nipple has you whining in bliss, your hand gripping his wet raven hair resulting in a satisfied groan from the older man. Toji missed this — missed you — close to him, under him on this bed.
One finger plays with your wet chasm for a few moments before it's inserted inside. A shriek is let out as your cunt adjusts to the digit. "Mmmph! Oh God, Daddy, your fingers...Ahhh!"
A soft 'pop' leaves from Toji's mouth when pulled back from sucking on your nipple, his tongue lapping around the sensitive nob. "What's that, mama? My fingers feelin' good?" You nod rapidly, but that's not the answer Toji's looking for, so he bites on your nipple gingerly yet hard enough for you to jolt. "Daddy wants your words, angel."
"Yesss, yes, your fingers feel soo good," You mewl to him, and Toji chuckles dangerously low while rewarding you with another digit in your slick-coated hole. His abrupt middle finger joins his forefinger in attacking your velvety walls, and your voice shifts higher in ecstasy.
The sounds of Toji's tongue licking around your nipple coincide with the squelches between his fingers and your gushy slit. Your brain starts to short-circuit.
"Ahh! Ahhh! Daddy, I can feel—I'm gonna," Toji's fingers pick up the pace. You're so close to release, you can feel it.
"Gonna be good and cum on Daddy's fingers, right, baby?"
"Mhmmm, I wanna co—Oh, Jesus, I wanna come. Hoooooh..."
"Then go ahead, princess. Mess 'em up." Toji comes up to kiss your forehead as his fingers go irrationally fast, and a thumb sneaks to press down on your unattended clit. With a choked cry, you spasm and cream on his thick digits. He watches you finish, loving the image of your head pushed back on pillows and your body arching towards him.
He dismisses himself from you once you're done, licking his fingers of your essence and taking off his wifebeater and pants. The image of his free cock has you biting your lower lip in anticipation as you discard your shirt to the bedroom floor as well. When you look at Toji, you notice the bandaged patch on his left side. He sees you glimpsing, quick to ease your concerns. "I'll be fine, darlin'. Won't go too crazy." Looking at his scarred body in a new light, you nod and follow his lead.
Toji carries your legs up to move to the right of his shoulder, situating you two into a mating press. His dick aligns with your glossy cunt. Precum meets slick and lubricates the two sexes pushing into each other. Toji coaxes you. "Too tense, ma. Relax fr' me." You prepare yourself with even breaths, and the man pushes into you with each exhale.
The head of his cock enters, a cry departs from your lips, and Toji hisses with the tightness of your slit. His hips go slow, making sure your walls accommodate every vein and dent of his dick as it ventures deep within you. Hits to your G-spot have you babbling incoherent prayers, gripping the sheets under you.
When his cockhead finally meets your cervix, you sob his name in rapture. Toji smirks, dialing the pace of his thrusts up. "Mmmm, Christ, yr' tight pussy. So fuckin' perfect fr' me."
Every stroke prompts a euphoric moan from you, drool escaping your lips as your mind turns into putty. The noises of his pelvis smacking on your ass feel so wrong to hear, yet you can't help but grip around Toji's girthy length. It gets worse when he presses his entire body weight on you, forcing you to take his cock and abusing your tender cervix with every deep rut.
As for Toji, he's enjoying seeing you writhe and pant under his bow. The corner of your eyes sprinkled with tears, your mouth wailing in euphoric chants, the way your cunt clamps around his dick when he grinds his hips deep onto your come-covered folds. He can never get enough of this, enough of you, driving him so fucking crazy.
"Daddyyy, I'm gonna—Ahhaaaa!!" Toji's now going at an erratic cadence, his cock churning your insides as his heavy balls slapping your folds being the only things you can listen to. Your whines get higher and higher while chasing your climax. "Cu-cumming, I'm gonna cumm—Ohhh!!"
"Hnngh! Oh, shit, fuck, fuck. Me too, kid, me too," Toji groans into your ear. God, his deep voice makes your brain mush. "Oooooh, want me to fill you up, mama?"
Your head nods frantically, tears now staining your face. "Yessss, please, Daddy!! I want it!" Toji hears your pleas and smashes his mouth into yours, moans swapped between lips with tongues daubed in saliva. A hand is moved down to your clit, pinching the spot between Toji's forefinger and thumb. And your pussy tightens around his cock one last time before you peak onto him.
The fluttery spasms of your walls clenching around Toji have him finish in three deep strokes, spurting his seed inside you before he relaxes his heaving body on yours. The kiss breaks with you two huffing and panting, the final moments of your high finally depleting out of your nude bodies.
His green eyes take in your dazed expression, calloused fingers wiping your tears away. "How's that for an apology?"
"You pervy old man," You chuckle to yourself, so out of breath. "You're more of a man of action anyway, so you pulled through. "
"Hehe, I'll take it." He cups your jaw with his big hand, your eyes locked in with his. "I love you so fuckin' much, baby. Sorry for ever making you think otherwise."
You blink once. Twice. Your hands come up to his face, and a finger swipes away black bangs stuck to his sweaty forehead. "I love you too, Toji. I would've left your ass if you weren't."
Toji smiles and leans in to kiss your swollen lips with his scared ones; however, a sharp pain stops him, prompting the big man to yell out. Worried, you try to assess what's wrong. Then you see it: the blood-stained bandage on his left side.
A gasp catches his attention, and Toji turns to what you're gawking at. His body freezes, seeing the trail of blood exit from his reopened wound.
"Ahhhh shit..."
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"Well, well, well," Utahime smirks at you through the screen. "I see you're not on the couch anymore."
You smile sheepishly as you lie on the pillows and headboard of your shared bed. Tsumiki and Megumi huddle beside you, napping blissfully around your presence under Tsumiki's pink blanket.
"Yeah, we made up last night." To avoid disturbing the children, you reply in whispers.
Mei Mei hums. "I see that. I assume you two had a nice talk about it?" You open your mouth, but no words come out. The two women quirk up a brow.
"Oh? I take it that there was more than just talking." Utahime chimes in, her smile going ear to ear while your eyes avoid the screen. "No wonder we didn't see you at work today. The dick so good it saved your relationship, huh?" She laughs at you hushing her up for using crude language while the children sleep. "Well, happy you two figured it out. But don't think I won't come over there and beat his ass the next time I see you on that couch."
"I second that," Mei Mei agrees. "But Uta can do the beatdown; I'm more interested in what he has in his wallet."
"Not much, I'll tell you that." you correct your friend. "I'm the one who takes care of his finances for safe-keeping."
"Well, that makes things easier for me."
The three of you laugh through your devices. Then you hear heavy footsteps drawing closer from the stairs. "Oop, he's back now. I'll talk to you guys later!" You hurriedly wave and kiss your friends goodbye before ending the video call. The bedroom door opens, and there he is.
Toji flashes a quick smile at you before it vanishes once he sees his kids nestled around you. "I was hopin' to get some alone time with you."
You giggle as you brush Tsumik's hair away from her pretty face. "You're back early. Is your wound okay now?"
"Hmph, yeah, thanks to you pushin' me out the way and grabbin' for the first aid kit." Toji pokes fun at you for the event from last night, where you immediately pushed the brawny man off of you and ran for the tools necessary to treat his open injury the moment you saw blood. You chuckle and watch the tall man climb into bed. "Doc said it should fully heal within a week or two. Why the squirts here?"
"They were happy to find me back in the room for a nap, so they joined me and kept me company." Megumi snuggles close to you for warmth, and you pick him up to your chest.
"Well, they're takin' my spot."
"I don't think they care."
Toji pinches your nose for your snarky remark, and you wriggle out of his fingers with quiet chuckles. His hand then cups your face and pulls you to face him, his emerald eyes softly gazing into you.
"You know I love the hell outta you, right?" His deep voice sounds sweet to the ears. You purr into his hand. "And I hope you know I'm the same for you." He nods. You smile.
He hesitates for a split second, but Toji leans close to kiss your tender lips. Only for a tiny hand to come smacking him in the face, halting him from further movement. To the shock of you both, Megumi was back awake, sending a mean look at his father.
Toji groans in annoyance. "What was that for, brat?"
"For making Y/n sad." Megumi keeps his hold on you secure as he and Toji mean-mug each other. Queuing Tsumiki from her slumber, defending you from her father. "Apologize or stay away!" The little girl warns the older man.
You're quick to break up the mini-fight amongst the Fushiguros. "Alright, kids, no need to worry about me. Your dad already apologized to me by promising to take us out for dinner tonight." Childish faces beam in delight while Toji shifts to instant puzzlement. "Now go get ready and put on your shoes!" Tsumiki and Megumi do just that, rushing out of your shared room and to their own.
When you can't hear the pitter-patter of little feet anymore, you feel big strong arms haul you into Toji's embrace, attacking you with tickles. You try to squirm your way out, but it's no use when he uses his body to cage you in. "Who told you to make promises on my name, huh? You tryna be bratty with me, kid?" He grins at your ticklish suffering.
"Then don't you—Oh God, stop!" It's difficult finishing your statement while fighting back laughter and screams. "Don't you ever yell at me again!"
He stops tickling you, thank God. You catch your breath as Toji looks at you under him with a proud smile. "I don't plan on it, sweetie. Now c'mere."
Toji finally has his lips placed on your soft ones, and you happily return the favor by wrapping your arms around his neck to pepper him with delicate kisses. But the romantic atmosphere vanishes when the children come and dogpile on Toji after hearing your ticklish screams, forcing the older Fushiguro off of you to deal with his kids with tickles of their own.
Observing the children laugh and squirm under Toji's merciless fingers, a soft smile adorns your face watching the domestic display before you and thinking how lucky you are to witness such a thing. Well, that's before all three of them turn to you and bring you another ticklish horror.
And despite the torture, your screams and giggles are filled with pure joy and contentment, and you wouldn't have it any other way.
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This wasn't going to be more than a little one-off. But due to popular demand, here's a part two. 😄
Back to the Past part 2
CW: Brief panic attack
Part 1
"I... uh. What?"
Eddie, because Steve is certain now that this is, in fact, Eddie Munson, frowns a little. "Memories," he says, firmly but not unkindly. "What's the last thing you remember?"
"Uh." Steve's brain is racing, but not with anything particularly helpful.
He and Robin are going to the high school again to help with relief efforts. There's a strange guy named Argyle staying in Steve's guest room. He's taking Dustin to meet Wayne Munson soon. They have been given permission to recover whatever they can from the Munson trailer. Dustin wants to help because Eddie is-
Eddie is-
Eddie is sitting right in front of him, watching him with those big, dark eyes. He's being so patient, waiting for Steve to finish whatever processing he needs to do, but honestly, the only thing that truly catches Steve off-guard is the fact that Eddie is-
"You're alive."
Eddie's frown deepens for a moment before he seems to understand what Steve is saying. Once he does, though, he grins, wide and happy and contagious, just like Steve remembers.
"Yeah, Stevie, I'm alive."
"You're old."
Eddie collapses back against his pillow and bursts into laughter. Deep, belly-shaking laughter that has Steve biting back a smile.
When he catches his breath again, Eddie looks up at him with shining eyes. "Of course the two things you focus on are our wedding photos and my age."
"You aren't freaking out."
"Neither are you," Eddie counters, and he's right.
Strangely enough, Steve isn't panicking. Actually, in the last few moments with Eddie and the comfort of warm blankets and his warmer laughter, Steve's breathing had evened out again.
"What's going on? You don't seem surprised."
Eddie sighs and lifts his arms, crossing them behind his head. He shifts, putting a little more distance between their bodies. Steve wonders if he's done that on purpose.
Then Eddie's feet wiggle under the covers, trying not to kick the sleeping cat as he shuffles the heavy comforter down his body. Steve's eyes immediately drift down as his torso, and the scars, come into view.
They're horrific; slashes and starbursts and a whole chunk missing from his side just below his ribcage -
And suddenly Steve is there, in the Upside Down. His hands are covered in blood, Eddie's blood, and he can't breathe without tasting the stench of death and decay on the back of his tongue and his heart rate spikes as he darkness starts to tunnel his vision.
But Eddie, alive and smiling and laughing Eddie, is there, gripping his arm firmly and talking to him.
"Stevie, focus on me. Come on, love, I know you can do it. Focus on my voice and breathe with me." A large hand falls onto his chest, warm against his naked skin, and he does what Eddie tells him.
He focuses on Eddie's voice and his toucb and breathes with him until the darkness fades and he finds himself in an unfamiliar bedroom again.
"Good job, Steve. Now, can you count with me?"
Counting. Steve can do that. He knows he can, and he does until his breathing calms again. He's sweaty, and the cool air of the bedroom stings his skin. One of them has tossed away the covers, and the cat has disappeared, and he's sitting half naked in bed with Eddie Munson. He wants to laugh at the absurdity of it all, but the lingering panic and adrenaline only let him cry, and so he does, leaning against the familiar stranger beside him.
-----
Part 3
Tag list-
@clumsiluni @l0st-strawberry @aol19 @newtstabber
Lmk if you would like to be added/removed from the tag list 💜
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I just thought of Rafe with a sleepy gf reader who falls asleep anywhere anytime. His truck, midsummers, party’s, in the middle of a convo. Idk why but I love the concept
omg i absolutley LOVE this concept!
A/N: I APOLOGISE FOR LATE UPLOAD. I HAD MAJOR WRITERS BLOCK, BUT IM BACK NOW!
Sleepy Girl
pairing: rafe cameron x sleepy!reader [est. relationship]
warnings: none i think lol? [lemme know if you find any]
summary: numerous scenarios of when rafe cameron takes care of his sleepy girl
rafe cameron masterlist main masterlist
in his truck
It had been half an hour since you had told rafe that you were tired before ending the two hour long facetime call you two had been on. It had been half an hour of you trying to get to sleep. Despite being tired, you couldn't manage to fall asleep which was surprising for you as you'd usually be out within minutes after your head hit the pillows. After a few more minutes of struggling you decided to see if rafe was still awake.
*messages with rafe*
About ten minutes later you got a text from rafe saying he was outside. While he would usually come get you himself, at night you told him it'd be best if waits in the car so you guys don't wake your sleeping parents. "Hi beautiful" you heard him say as you got into rafe's truck and put your seatbelt on before he could ask you to. His free hand immediately found it's place on your thigh like it always did during your drives. "Hi, thanks for this" you blushed at his compliment from seconds ago. "Anything for you" he smiled as he started driving with no indication of where he was going. This wasn't the first time the two of you would go on drives when one of you was restless (almost always you) so as usual he would just drive around the obx until you both called it a night.
You continued on your drive having small, random, meaningless but interesting conversations as some random song quietly played through the speakers in the background. As you heard rafe talk about his new project with his dad at cameron development, you couldn't help but smile at him, feeling proud and happy at how much his relationship with his dad has improved and how his attitude towards life in general has changed for the better. The sound of his voice and his thumb rubbing against your thigh lulled you sleep causing rafe to gently pull over and place the blanket he kept in the back over you. He looked over at your sleepy form at a red light and couldn't help but to admire you "love you, my sleepy girl"
at parties (imagine this in a reality where kooks and pouges get along lol)
Kelce had thrown yet another end of school party despite it already being halfway into summer. The teens of the obx were always looking for an excuse to have houseparties, keggers, get togethers, you name it. If it had booze, drugs and people their age, they were down. Not that you were complaining though, you loved having a reason to get all dressed up and spend a night with your best friends and boyfriend. Although you were quite tired today and when vocalising this to rafe and your friends they all replied with something along the lines of "when aren't you". JJ in particular begged you to come and dared you to not fall asleep before 2 am. After a little persuasion and a bet formed between you and jj stating that the loser cleans the others car/bike for the next month, you were down.
At around 1:00 am you all (you, rafe, sarah, kie, cleo, john b, jj, pope, kelce, topper, barry and some other mutual friends) had found yourselves sitting on kelce's rather large balcony alternating between random convos and playing stupid party games such as truth or dare. You were sat in rafe's lap with his arms around you, one of his hands stroking your thigh whilst the other held a beer.
Feeling yourself grow tired you moved your face to bury it into rafe's chest almost forgetting about your bet with jj before you hear barry's voice booming. "YO THORNTON" causing jj to divert his attention away from a clingy kie "looks like mrs country clubs called it a night, pay up" you heard causing you to jolt your head up earning a groan from barry and a chuckle from jj and rafe. "Are you guys betting on me?" you asked putting two and two together. "Hey it's not just us, everyone is, even your boyfriend" jj pointed above you at rafe to get the blame off of himself.
This pulled whatever sleep you had in you away as you sat up and looked at rafe who had a sheepish smile on his face. "Explain" you said staring at rafe. "Well um-" he stuttered earning giggles from kelce and topper who rarely saw rafe at a loss for words "we all bet on who we think is gonna win the bet between you and jj" he explained. "Topper, kelce, john b, and cleo think you're gonna win and kie, barry, pope and sarah think jj's gonna win" he finished. "And you? who do you think is gonna win rafe?" you asked interested to hear his answer.
Some giggles from sarah and john b had you guessing you weren't going to like his answer. "well... baby you know i love you, but my money's on jj" he smiled down at you again with that sheepish smile. "really?" you laughed "you're betting against me?" you fake pouted, not really caring about something so silly. "Sorry baby" rafe laughed kissing your forehead. "Well imma stay up now just so i can see you lose" you smirked up at him "and so i don't have to clean jj's bike for the next month" you added on.
A while later you began to feel sleepy again as you drowned out the conversation between rafe and a few of the others. You looked up at rafe with sleepy eyes and he could swear that he'd never seen anything cuter. "Is it pass two?" you asked him in a pleading voice that had him send a quiet prayer to God that it had passed two so you could stop torturing yourself. He checked his watch, annoyed to see that it was 1:41 am meaning you couldnt sleep for another twenty minutes. Not having the heart to break it to you he just nodded causing you to bury your face into him as you layed against him, sleep immediately taking over you.
He bought his finger up to his lips and looked at everyone else with a death glare, a silent threat to everyone to not ruin it by telling you the actual time or else. He looked back at you sleeping then to jj who had a smirk on his face as he'd just won the bet. Little did jj know that there was no way on earth rafe was gonna let his girl wash jj's bike causing rafe to smirk to himself thinking of how he would deal with jj tomorrow, not caring how annoyed the blonde would get, you won't have to lift a finger. And that money he won from the other bet? He was already planning on how he was gonna take you out with that money and treat you the following day. "goodnight my pretty, sleepy girl" he whispered as he placed one final kiss into the top of your head before resuming his conversation with everyone else.
at midsummers
So far, midsummers had been everything you dreamt and more. You wore a stunning emerald green satin dress which complimented your skin tone and eye colour so beautifully. Your parents were so happy to see you with rafe enjoying midsummers remembering their own first midsummers together whilst the camerons wouldn't stop complimenting you. You had always been family to them being sarah's bestfriend since you both were three but they loved you even more after you started dating rafe.
The hours flew by as you danced with your parents, kie, sarah, wheezie, rafe and a few of your other friends. You even shared a dance with ward as he thanked you for bringing his son back to him. After a while you, kie and sarah went to grab a drink away from your parents hoping to get something alcoholic into your systems. After a while, not many people were left. Your parents had gone home without you once you told them you'd be staying at tannyhill with rafe and sarah tonight. You, kie and sarah were talking when you saw sarah roll her eyes at something behind you before feeling a pair of hands grab your waist. You turned you head to see rafe smiling at you pulling you away from sarah and kie leading you to the dance floor.
A slow song was playing as you both slowly danced to the music with your arms wrapped around his neck and your head was rested against his chest. Rafe's hands stayed at your waist and hips as he moved your body with his bringing his lips down to your ear "have i told you how beautiful you look tonight?" he whispered. This caused you to giggle "only about a milion times". He chuckled at that and you felt butterflies emerge in your stomach at the rumbles from his chest "well that's not enough, lets make it a million and one" he started before peppering some kisses into your hair "you look gorgeous princess" he finished with one final kiss. You smiled feeling nothing but comfort in that moment in that calm atmosphere "i love you" you whispered earning an "i love you more" from rafe. You continued to dance as you felt your eyes get heavier, sleep taking over you. Rafe also felt your body get heavier as you gave into the sleep leading him to gently carry you to his truck, "let's get you home my sleepy girl"
at a picnic date/mid convo
"oh my god rafe, this is so cute" you beamed at rafe as he took out a little picnic blanket and placed it over the grass "i know, you want some strawberries?" rafe smirked in a cocky tone, proud of himself for coming up with a successful date. "yes please" you said sitting down next to him. As soon as you sat down you felt rafe's arms pull you into his lap and before you could say anything to object, he stuffed a strawberry into your mouth.
You two proceeded to talk about many things going on in the obx particularly your night at midsummers just yesterday. With your head in rafes lap, you looked up at him whilst he sat upright against a tree peering down at you and mindlessly playing with your hair. When rafe started describing his favourite moments from midsummers, trying find a few pictures topper had managed to snap, he heard your hums get quieter and less frequent as the seconds passed. Shrugging his brows he moves his phone away so your face was no longer blocked, only to find you sleeping with a small smile on your face. He couldn't help chuckle, not only at the small bit of whipped cream on your nose, but also at how his sleepy girl had fallen asleep on yet another date. Slowy, he quietly snapped a picture of you before putting his phone to the side whilst dropping his head down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead, bringing it back up as he continued to admire you.
This was a picture rafe loved.
An image he wanted imprinted in his mind.
His favouite sight.
"sleep well my sleepy girl"
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Where Do We Go? | CL16 & CS55
Summary: Charles will do anything to fix his marriage with you, Carlos will do anything to prove you're worth more. The question is where do you go between the two men fighting for your affection?
Word Count: 9.7k
Warnings: angst, a lotta angst, cheating, light smut, character death.
Note: You all really wanted a Part 2 to this one, and of course, I wanted to deliver! This is a little bit more angsty, we’re trying to save a relationship, after all. Or…are we? Also, a massive thank you to @formulaforza for proof-reading this for me and pulling me up on my addiction to italics; my brain is literally jelly right now. Enjoy, everybody!
PART 1: A House, A Home | PART 2: Where Do We Go? | PART 3: 'You Think, You Know'
Carlos Sainz is a best friend.
Best friends, however, do not text a love confession to one another in the hours of a rising sun, especially not when their declaration is to a woman who is wrapped up in the arms of her husband.
The confession had run cold through your veins; if it hadn’t been for the sheer exhaustion taking over your body from the events of the past 48 hours, you were certain you would have been up the entire night, contemplating the words he had sent to you. He wasn’t drunk; far from it, the man had driven you down the dusky streets to your home mere hours before. Was he lonely? Did he feel sorry for you? More importantly, did he mean those precious words that had lit up your screen?
Eventually, the desire for sleep, for the warmth of your estranged husband’s chest pillowing your back overtakes your body. You hadn’t slept in a bed with him since the last day of your supposed honeymoon; even then, you had slept with an infinite gap between the two of you, cuddling instead into a pillow, rageful tears in your eyes at the realization that this was now your life.
This was entirely different. Charles pressed into you as if holding you together; his warm breath danced across the nape of your neck, a hand pressed into your stomach, cradling you between the warm blankets and soft cushions you had picked out when decorating your room. You didn’t rouse during the night, the two before had been filled with tears, constantly awakening to call for your mother as if you were a child again, the harsh realization that she wasn’t around anymore.
When you did wake, the bed was empty.
You had subconsciously turned in the blankets when you arose, expecting to see the figure of your husband next to you. The pillow was still rumpled, his glasses disappeared from the nightstand, every single trace of him had seemed to evaporate. Clearly, one night next to you had been a big enough mistake in his eyes.
Instead, your attention turns towards your phone. Silently, you remove the device from its charger, the homescreen being flooded with sympathetic messages and photographs of you arriving at your father’s home. Luckily, no photographs of Carlos picking you up himself had been released; that would have caused a frenzy which wasn’t desired on either side.
However, his last text to you that evening before still stayed burned into your screen. In curiosity, you’d once again opened the text thread, seeing th
e words stand strong, his confession to his feelings presents for your eyes. He had laid it out so clearly, Carlos Sainz was in love with you.
But, were you in love with him? You loved your family; you loved the smell of fresh candles. You adored the sounds of the fastest cars in the world racing around a track whilst you watched with ease. Did you categorize your best friend into the love you so carefully crafted? Was the desire you felt for contact solely directed towards him?
You never had time to answer yourself that morning. Your subconscious state recognised the sound of footsteps; it was most likely Charles, on his way to his own room for some private time. Maybe he’d have his mistress with him, having snuck out of bed early that morning to possibly go and pick her up himself.
The footsteps get louder, the door to your room opens, much to your confusion. In the doorway, stands your husband. You’ve never seen him like this; a soft smile, hair pushed back by a bandana, glasses resting on the bridge of his small nose. He’s dressed in a soft, grey jumper and matching tracksuit bottoms, fluffy socks warming his feet. In one arm, he cradles a washing bag. Upon closer inspection, you see that it’s your washing from the case you had lugged in the night before, ironed and folded. In his other hand, he holds a steaming mug of tea.
He looks beautiful like this, almost ethereal. He looks domestic.
“Good morning.” He speaks gently, as if any sudden sound would hurt you. You looked…so precious, covered in blankets, your pajamas covering your modesty. “I’m sorry I had to leave early. I went to get your washing done and…pick up some tea.” He offers, holding up the bag of washing in confirmation. Charles offers you a smile as walks into the room, placing the pile of clothing on your vanity. Cradling the mug of hot tea in his hand, he walks back over to where you’re now sat up, surrounded by soft furnishings, offering you the drink which you gladly accept.
It's a mediocre cup of tea at best; the teabag hasn’t diluted properly, there’s too little milk and too much sugar. Yet, the fact he had made the drink himself caused your heart to soften, despite the past twelve months of actions. You offer him a soft ‘thank you,’ as the drink touches your lips. You’re half-expecting him to stand up and leave immediately. Instead, Charles sits himself down on the edge of the bed, making certain he doesn’t sit on your outstretched legs.
There’s a moment of bliss; you’re somewhat enjoying the drink cradled in your hands, your husband’s eyes trained on your movements. At one moment, he reaches out his hand towards your face. You flinch, not too sure on what was happening, before his palm simply tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You can’t bring your own eye gaze to meet him, simply focusing on the hot drink in your hand. You can’t help but notice the way his shoulders fall, clearly not satisfied with the lack of eye-contact.
You can’t help it; it’s as if Charles believes with one night wrapped in his arms would solve the past twelve months. You couldn’t forget, not everything that had happened. Your husband had shattered this relationship, well and truly. He could only hope he’d realised in enough time to somehow win you back. Silently, he stands up from the edge of the comforter, walking towards the vanity, beginning to remove the clothing from its basket. It’s… humorous, to see him try and figure out where each category goes. It’s also a stark reminder of how this is ‘your’ room, not ‘our’ room.
Whilst picking out a rather revealing pair of panties, folding them up and placing them into your draw, he begins to speak again. “What are you doing this afternoon?” His voice is soft, but in the silent room it carries well.
You shrug, before realizing Charles has his back to you. “I’m…nothing much.” You cut yourself off, placing the cup of tea on your bedside table, letting your hands pull up the comforter a little higher. “My father is going to the funeral parlor today.” Are you…having a conversation with your husband? “How about you?”
“I have lunch with the Ferrari team this afternoon. Nothing serious, just a talk on the next part of the season.” He explains. Charles isn’t stupid; he knows despite your father’s input that you constantly worry about his job. Not because you care about his fame, wealth or power; you care about him.
“I was,” he takes a breath. “I was wondering if you would like to come along.”
You feel goosebumps prickle across your exposed skin. Charles Leclerc never invited you to his lunches. He’d always have a reason as to why his darling Mrs. Leclerc could never attend their lunch meetings alongside him. The only time you’d ever appear by his side, fingers harshly interlinked and a cold barrier between you both was when your father insisted upon it. He wouldn’t be there today, there was no way he’d be present for any form of meeting for a while now.
“You don’t have to, of course.” His explanation runs further. “I know it might be too much for you now. I just thought…maybe we could go for a drive after. Carlos and Xavi will be there, you’ll know some of the others from the Paddock…” His voice trails off in your mind. It had started to the moment he had said the Spaniards name.
Were you… ready to see Carlos? The day after a text message you had never thought you’d see. Would he acknowledge the message, was it a drunken mistake? Most importantly, did you want him to love you?
When you come back out of your trail of thoughts, Charles is still talking, carefully hanging one of your summer dresses onto a velvet coat hanger. He takes a moment to brush the fabric under his fingertips, feeling the soft cotton under his touch. He’s so gentle. The touch is almost identical to the way he had held you mere hours ago.
“I’ll come.” You cut him off, watching as his head snaps in your direction, eyes bright underneath his glasses. “Yeah. It will be…nice.” You finish your sentence, trying not to ramble or to float off topic. Charles’ eyes are still bright, elated you had decided to come alongside him. All he had to do now was fix every other mistake spanning over twelve months.
Carlos Sainz is a red-wine gentleman.
You’d immediately spotted him the moment you had entered the waterside restaurant; his back was to the entrance, but you’d recognise the powdered blue shirt and dark wisps of hair in any circumstance. You could have just walked over, stood next to him and ordered a drink, but your fingers stayed tightly interlocked with your husbands, a force of habit in public at the current rate.
However, his grasp, like the entirety of his actions over the past twenty-four hours, was different. Charles’ thumb gently stroked over your knuckle, his fingers gently resting against yours instead of the firm grip he usually held for the sake of actions. He’d taken a moment to look at you before entering the building, something he’d never done in the past, simply having dragged you into whatever location instead. It was as if his eyes told you a million things; that he had your back and the moment you wanted to leave, he was right behind you.
The moment you’re in the presence of company, the façade still comes alive, the act you had been creating for all this time is still a force of habit. Charles’ hand comes around your waist, greeting the many members of the Scuderia Ferrari team, thanking them for his time and attention to the matter. As always, you tactfully excuse yourself from the side of your husband, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek and removing yourself from the crowd. Usually, he wouldn’t so much as flinch from the chaste action, but you don’t miss his eyes longing for you to stay this time.
Instead, your heel-clad feet press through the tiles of the place, making advancements towards the white marbled-bar. You receive a nod from the friendly-looking gentleman mixing cocktails, a silent signal to let him know when you’re ready. Maybe you stand too close to Carlos, so much so that you can smell his cologne, you can feel his body warmth radiating through that shirt. It doesn’t take long for him to notice your presence, his eyes widening upon the realization that it was, in fact, you–the woman he had confessed his feelings to less than twelve hours ago.
“I didn’t realize you’d be here, Mariposa,” he taunts, pulling you into his side. You’re grinning immediately, happy to be reunited with your close friend after how he had left you last night, promising he’d be there if you needed anything. “Come to make sure your husband behaves?”
“No. I came to see how his teammate is behaving.” You let him ponder for a moment, but he realizes, the blush growing from his neck to his cheeks. “I’m a married woman, Carlos.” You remind him but make no attempt to move further away. The idea is completely eradicated when his hand comes out to rest on the small of your back. His eyes are still fixed on you. He knows he shouldn’t be doing this. It’s not fair to you. He couldn’t care less about his teammate’s position, the way he’s treated you all this time leaves a sour taste on his tongue.
“Your marital status doesn’t change the way I feel for you.” He thinks back to that moment in the ocean. What on Earth would be happening if he had kissed you at that moment? He could never be certain, but something tells him you’d be his date to this luncheon right now. Sighing, Carlos turns to face you directly, the bottle of wine he had originally come to pick up having been left on the counter.
“I’m going to ask you something, and you don’t have to respond.” He tries to keep his breathing calm, your presence practically overpowering him. “But...I would love to take you out for a date sometime. A proper date. With flowers and dinner and being able to make you smile.” Your heart is softening by the moment with the Spaniard’s pleads of everything your husband had never given you. “Would you like that?”
“I would.” You don’t even have to think of your response. “I would like that, Carlos.” At that moment, your estranged husband is the last thought of your mind; instead it’s overpowered by the fantasies of a date with the man standing in front of you. This time, Carlos can’t help the grin on his lips, reaching for the bottle of red wine on the bar. His careful hands carefully unlatch the stopper, the liquid hitting two crystal glasses, one of which he passes to you.
“Well, shall we toast the idea, no?” he holds up the glass delicately, to which you raise your own, grinning at the satisfying sound of clinking crockery. When you take a sip of the rich red, you’re blissfully unaware of your husband’s eyes; the ones which are never attached to you, but in that moment, don’t want to focus on anything else. Nobody misses the way he purposely sits between yourself and his teammate, fingers interlocked into yours tightly, the occasional kiss on the temple of your head.
You were his wife, after all.
Carlos Sainz is a brilliant cook.
The intimacy between yourself and your husband had oddly grown within the past week. To start, his messages became more frequent, checking in when he couldn’t be at the house. Your pantry had stocked overnight, begging for your home cooking whenever he could be there to sample it. Most importantly, the interaction. You’d been hesitant to even let your husband touch you in the beginning. You had kept it simple, a hug before you’d headed off to bed in your room, (sleeping in the same bed as him had been that one-off.) His arms would find their way onto your waist if you were cooking, his fingers would tuck a lock of hair behind your ear when you found yourself engrossed in studies.
Your husband had been elated when you had spoken to him two days before he was due to leave for Qatar, announcing you would like to attend alongside him; it was also your father’s wishes to attend that race, wanting to signal to his fellow associates that he was okay, that you could pass on a message from your family. Charles’ eyes had glossed over with happiness, taking your hand in his own, pressing a kiss to the back of your knuckles.
You were ready for your entrance to the Paddock 72 hours later; after arriving in Qatar, you’d barely seen anything from the transport from his jet to the hotel. Your eyes had grown heavy the moment your feet were removed from their shoes, two large beds welcoming you with their soft blankets and heavy pillows. (He’d made sure to give you the sleeping space that you needed.) Charles’ heart had softened when he’d seen you curl into one bed. When he returned from the bathroom, you were out like a light.
It didn’t stop him from gently rubbing a makeup wipe over your features, knowing you’d regret your lack of attention to appearance in the morning. Hesitantly, he leans forward, pressing a kiss to your hairline, one hand stroking over the back of your head before he returns to unpacking both yours and his suitcase.
You had been hesitant of attending the Paddock alongside Charles that morning, not because you were worried of the bombarding questions. No, this was the first time you had attended the paddock with a husband who seemed comforted by your presence. His heart felt gentle when he saw you look out of the front windscreen, eyes transfixed on the countless photographers standing by the barriers. Immediately, his hand finds yours, resting atop your thigh, the hot weather pleading for a cooler outfit.
“You don’t have to do this.” He removes his sunglasses, those ocean eyes finding your own. “You can wait here, or I can have somebody drive you back to the hotel now.” He promises, the worry flickering over his face. Your hand removes itself from his firm grasp, instead reaching forward and resting your hand on his bristled cheek.
“I’m okay.” You promise him, thumb dancing over his soft cheekbone. He offers you a soft smile, eyelashes fluttering as your face gets closer to his; you have no panic leaning over the console of the hire-car, gently pressing a warm kiss to the cheek your hand wasn’t resting upon. You can’t help but hesitate when you pull back from his face, lingering within mere millimeters of his lips for a long moment; you could just lean forward, press your lips to his and give into all those nights you had dreamed of. But this wasn’t a dream; this was your husband whom you needed to fix a relationship with first.
Charles isn’t going to lean forward and kiss you himself, not until the signals you are giving him are crystal clear. Instead, he presses his forehead close to yours, tips of your noses gently brushing against one another before he steps out of the car, and you’re quick to follow.
This time, he doesn’t walk in silence, ignoring your presence. Instead, as the two of you flash your paddock passes towards the security guards, he’s openly commenting on different happenings around Media Day, both of you falling into giggles upon seeing Toto Wolff’s broken arm; he was truly beginning to become an icon at the local emergency room. You’re happy. Subdued in a bubble alongside your husband, hands interlocked as you work your way through the paddock.
You’ve never experienced such a harsh blow to reality when you see an all-too-familiar figure lurking outside of the Williams Racing building. Her hair is shorter, her skirt is skimpier and a ghastly color. However, she still looks beautiful. She is undoubtedly the woman you’ve fought and lost your husband’s affection from, his mistress.
Charles seems to clock less than a moment after you do, both bodies freezing upon notifying her presence. You seem to have a quicker reaction time, despite being in the presence of a world-class Formula Driver. Immediately, you rip your grasp from Charles’ hand, showing him no emotion as you step away and into the Ferrari Building. You’re fortunate enough to avoid most of your fathers’ colleges, only once having to stop to give a sympathizing message of your mothers’ passing, the words being used are minute compared to the ache in your heart for her presence.
When you reach the top of the dark stairs, almost certain you can hear Charles’ voice below you. He’s searching for you now, but instead is overwhelmed by the amount of people in his presence. You’re able to sneak through the makeshift corridor, finding a large number ’55,’ pressed onto the door. You don’t even think, opening the door to a very tanned, very shirtless Carlos Sainz.
He's so… toned. The natural light from the window is reflecting beautifully onto his chest, broader than you’d last seen during your adventures at sea. His shorts hang low on his waist, making no attempt to shift his body despite your appearance. Instead, his dressing is overtaken by his concern for your face, immediately dropping the shirt fisted in his right hand, taking your gentle face in between both of his palms. You didn’t even realize the tears resting on your cheeks, the fear glossed over in your eyes that you’d ever trusted Charles.
Carlos doesn’t need to ask; he saw her on his own entry to the Paddock. Admittedly, he had to double-take; surely Charles wouldn’t have the audacity to bring his mistress to the other side of the world. He didn’t bother to glance in her direction too long, instead greeting the Ferrari team, excusing himself to go and get changed for their upcoming press appearances. In this moment, he’s held you against his bare chest, hushing you gently as one hand threads through your hair. Your mind is overwhelmed, from seeing your husband’s mistress, but from being pressed against his oh-so warm chest.
You don’t even realize, but your palms are resting on his chest, his skin so soft beneath your touch. Carlos gently hushes you, tilting your head up to face him, still cradled in his grasp. He could so easily reach forward, claim you there and then, but he realizes in that moment, under your soft touch and those doe eyes, you are the one who has claimed him. After a moment, he pulls back, motioning for you to follow him towards the couch, littered in Spanish-themed cushions and the enormous chili plushie you had bought him several months ago.
You can’t help the slight disappointment when Carlos eventually slips on his Ferrari Polo; however, you are interested when he reaches for his small fridge, pulling out a neat lunchbox, motioning for you to grasp it whilst he reaches for another. Curiosity takes the better of you, gently unclasping the lid of the Tupperware box. A beautiful aroma overtakes your senses, a carefully crafted meal nestled into the lunchbox. The Spaniard can’t help but grin at your reaction; sometimes something as simple as a homemade meal could lift your spirits.
And that’s how you spent the next forty-five minutes, sat on the sofa of Carlos Sainz’s driver room, the man sat on the floor as the two of you exchanged bites of food. There’s one particular moment where you offer him a spoonful of your lunchbox, watching as he arches his torso towards you.
It’s almost…sensual, the way his lips wrap around the top of the spoon, maintaining sole eye contact as he retracts his mouth from the utensil, letting his tongue trace around his lips for a chase of the taste. He knows what he’s doing; in his mind, all he wants is to show how adored you could be, to show he could be everything your husband never was.
It isn’t until Charles is finally free from the bombarding questions of his sponsors that he finally locates you in Carlos’ room. The man isn’t oblivious; he can see that the two of you have grown undeniably close. He can’t bring himself to say anything on the matter. He knows, in his heart of hearts, he has no right to make any assumptions; he was the one who had spent hours with a mistress, after all. Silently, he opens the door to the driver’s room, your figure perched upon the sofa, a grin plastering your soft features. You looked happy.
You looked like the most beautiful girl he had seen in his life.
You acknowledge his presence after a few moments, standing up from your place on the sofa, insisting the man tries Carlos’ cooking. It takes less than a few blinks of your eyes for him to submit, taking the spoonful off your utensil, making a comment towards his teammate that he would have to give him some lessons at some point. The man says nothing, simply nodding in a passive agreement.
There’s a sharp call for Charles after he wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. He shoots both you and his teammate an apologetic look before he makes his way down the corridor, gently closing the door behind him as to give you a sense of privacy; the last thing he wanted was to have you plastered all over social media pages when he knew it would purely be used for publicity purposes.
You’re still smiling when the door closes, your back to Carlos’ front. “He seems to like you-“
You were destined to never finish that sentence. Within a split moment, there are warm hands, rough hands resting on either side of your waist, twisting your body within his grasp. He takes two steps backwards, enough pacing to have your back pressed against the closed door: the coldness of the wood contrasting violently with the heat radiating off your best friend.
He couldn’t hold any emotion. Carlos Sainz wears his heart on his sleeve. That much is adamant, from the way his text messages were drafted, to the way he tilts his head, meshing his lips to your own.
They’re surprisingly soft; there’s nothing soft in the way his hands grasp at your waist, the way his body is pressing so deeply into yours. Yet, as his lips continue to entrance yours, they feel like clouds; a gentle stroke of a paintbrush. His artistry continues when his kisses get deeper, one of his hands enclosing yours, bringing it to rest around his shoulders, pushing the two of you closer together. Your other hand is interlocked by his, being stretched above your head, pinned to the door you’re resting upon.
He's waited so long for this, before lunch, before your moment in the sea. He’s wanted this since the moment you walked into the Ferrari Paddock alongside your father, you must have been etched into his heart.
Carlos isn’t thinking; his kisses are becoming rougher, one hand blindly reaching for your leg, almost bare from the shorts you had opted from your wardrobe earlier. He guides it to rest upon his hip, grunting when he can feel his hardened crotch press between your legs. His reality comes crashing down when he feels the cool band on your fingers entangling in his hair. Your wedding ring.
Ragged breaths, panting, he pulls away from your lips, pressing his forehead to your own in a sheer plea of comfort. Both your breaths are synchronized, both grasping for some form of air in the room.
“You’re everything, Mariposa.” He whispers, closing his dark eyes, enjoying his moment, taking every opportunity to imprint the feeling of your body, of your lips into his mind. He prays this won’t be the last time he holds you this way.
Carlos Sainz is a fast texter.
In the moments after you had shared the intimacy, hidden away in his driver’s room, he’s gone into a sheer panic. He’d overstepped, he’d made an advancement on you at your most vulnerable. When he had left for the press alongside your husband, he didn’t have a single chance to pull you aside, not when you had left the moment after the duo had been pulled into their press conferences. Simply, you were not waiting around to catch glimpses of the mistress, still proudly flocking around the Paddock as if it was her home.
It had taken a matter of moments to request a car home, having slipped out of the Ferrari building, talking to one of your father’s colleagues about your departure. Silently, you paced out of the building, a direct beeline towards the car park, head down from the ever-present photographers.
You hadn’t expected a text from either your husband or his teammate, considering that they were both in press conferences until further notice. However, when you had felt and grasped the device in your shorts, you had immediately noticed the soft vibrations, pulling your device out of your pocket, your eyes being illuminated by the screen of your phone. Two text messages. One from your father, one from Carlos. Your attention is drawn to the latter, curious on what your best friend has to say.
11:32: Carlos Sainz:
I’m really, truly sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable. I haven’t seen Charles yet to let him know you left. You don’t have to see me again if you do not wish.
11:36: You
It wasn’t you at all, I promise! I was aware that Charles’ mistress was about, I couldn’t stick about for that.
Carlos messages you back, almost immediately. You’re confused, considering he is due to be in press alongside Charles. He could be having a break; he could have completely skipped out on several media appearances.
11:38: Carlos Sainz
I wish you could have stayed longer. I meant what I said, every single word. Please let me know if you need anything.
11:41: You
I know, C. I appreciate it, even if I express it terribly. I’ll always be here for you, too. Always.
You never get to see the next message that Carlos sends to you. Instead, your phone starts ringing, an incoming call from your father. You’re certain that the chauffeur won’t mind you taking the call whatsoever, holding the device to your ear as your father’s tone fills the void, his words becoming numbing as he runs through the details of your mother’s funeral, the tears in his voice beginning to swell heavily.
Charles had left the Paddock as soon as he got notice of your departure. He hadn’t bothered to message, his sole focus being on returning to the hotel, to find out what on Earth had happened to you. He was fortunate enough to escape the wandering eyes of his ex-mistress, how on Earth she had gotten into the Paddock for that race was beyond him, especially since he had ceased contact from that day.
The car arrives swiftly outside of the hotel; immediately, Charles is rushing through the back entrance, beelining for the staircase; waiting for an elevator at this moment would be too much. Within moments, he’s fumbling for his key card, pushing the door open, his heart shattering at the vision in front of him.
You, his wife, sat on the edge of one of the king-size beds; your head is buried into your hands, heavy sobs racking through your body. He can see the goosebumps littering your skin, the solemn shakes running through you, the trauma of losing somebody you cared about so deeply, combined with a cocktail of emotions from your entrance to the Paddock had become too much.
He doesn’t care about boundaries, not at this point. Immediately, Charles has crouched in front of you, his gentle hands reaching to grasp around your wrists. There’s a flinch at the sudden contact; your skin had overheated from the sheer energy of crying; your husband’s cool touch was a stark contrast which made you shiver. Delicate touches pull your hands away from your eyes. They’re so red, so swollen. Had he ever made you react like that from his own actions. The Monegasque doesn’t want to question that right now, he can’t even bring himself to look into your broken eyes. Instead, he feels as your arms wrap around his neck, hiding your face in his neck, craving for somebody to just…hold you.
Your husband has no issue in that desire; he lets you remain like that, Charles on his knees whilst you cling to him, the tears dampening through his shirt. One hand slides across your back, kneading gentle circles into your skin. At some point, you move onto the bed, the man lying back on the soft furnishings whilst you rest your head on his chest, arms encircling you as if he could hold you together, until the storm in your mind passes.
When the tears subside, you finally find the energy to look up to your husband. He hadn’t reached for his phone, tried to find some form of entertainment whilst he held you to his chest for hours. Instead, his gaze had been fixed upon you, brushing a gentle stroke over your cheek, his fingers dancing against your skin, brushing away the tension from heavy lines and sobs. When your eyes do open, you’re greeted with a soft smile, Charles leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head.
“Do you need some water?” His concern is to bring you back up to health; now the tears have stopped, he can do this. “I can order some food; would you like that?” His voice is so quiet, as if a simple loud sound could shatter through your veins. You can’t muster up more than a nod, your body becoming colder when Charles’ gently shifts away, sitting up so he can reach for the telephone. His voice is so mesmerizing, speaking down the line as he requests different foods; he doesn’t mind how much he orders, if he can coax you into even eating a little, the man will be satisfied.
The call finishes, but the man doesn’t sink back down into his previous position. Instead, whilst he remains sat up, Charles guides you to join him, your body still aching from your emotional breakdown. He murmurs under his breath as he pulls you into his lap, your body is tense until his strong arms wrap around your waist, the warmth instantly allowing you to relax, lean back into his firm chest.
“I’ve wanted to speak to you for a few days.” His voice is soft, but the phrase causes you to feel a sharp panic dance down your chest. Surely, this can’t be good. The relationship had evolved from barely speaking to intimate conversations within a span of two weeks. You try, try so hard to keep a clear mind as your husband continues to address you.
“How I’ve acted…how I treated you, all that time-“ He must stop himself, trying not to let his own emotion overpower his words. “I’m never going to be able to take it all back, and I will never be able to stop apologizing for it.” His whispers, his eyes growing misty with regret. “I will never forgive myself for how I treated you, nor do I ever expect you to forgive me. But…I want to try. I want to try and spend the rest of my days as you husband. I know…it won’t be overnight, but I’ll do anything, anything for you.”
The tears are rolling down your own cheeks now; never, in your wildest dreams, did you expect for Charles to speak those words of affirmation to you. His hand moves cautiously, to your face, wiping the tears which were pooling across your features.
“You’re so beautiful.” He whispers, letting one of his hands remain on your cheek. The man leans forward, pressing gentle butterfly kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, your nose…he pauses, mere inches from your lips. He wants to kiss you; he’d promised himself he wasn’t going to push you; his mind and his heart are complete opposites.
His mind goes into overdrive when you lean forward and press your lips to his own. They’re salty, slightly chapped, but undeniably something he has been craving for oh-so-long. Charles is immediately kissing you back, his grip around you tightening, keeping your body close to his own. Carefully, he shuffles the two of you back into a lying position, never once breaking the kiss, tumbling back onto the mattress.
Of course, you don’t miss his grumble of annoyance when the food eventually arrives.
Carlos Sainz is a gentle kisser.
An autumn breeze was strong on the dreaded day; the funeral had rolled around way too soon for your liking. Rows of family connections, close and distant friends lined the outside of the cemetery, eyes all transfixed on the black hearse rolling into view. Murmurs were pressed into silence, a bitter air all-too present as the ivory coffin was removed from the vehicle. Your elder brother and two cousins were to assist in carrying the piece into the church. Plans were soon suspended when the eldest of your siblings collapsed into tears, head in his hands upon the sheer realization that this was it.
Your father is desperately looking around, practically praying outside a place of worship that the eldest could pull himself together; it’s impossible. Whilst one of your arms is occupied, holding the hand of your young sister, the other gently wraps around his torso, comforting him in the ways he had done for you when you were nothing more than a young girl in messy braids and mismatched socks.
His wife stood on his right-hand side, adamant on consoling the man as you were, a caring hand running across his back. Your husband stood next to your sister, her childish eyes blinking in confusion; just like you, she had never seen her brother this inconsolable.
Charles feels a pain wash through him, he wants nothing more than to help his dear family through this moment. Maybe the act he was playing for so long was just a way of shielding himself from caring. Now he had bared his soul towards you, pleading for a second chance, the man wanted to be there for you, in every sense of the word.
He murmurs something incoherently, stepping away from your side, leaning towards your father’s ear. Whatever he mumbles is met with a sharp nod, a firm pat on the shoulder in confirmation. Your husband keeps a firm gaze on the coffin, not catching your own eyes as he walks towards the piece to join your cousins. There’s a quick whisper between the men, before the ivory is shuffled from the car, resting on their suit-clad shoulders. Silence falls over the attendants as your mother is carried into the church, immediate family following closely behind. Hesitantly, your eyes look to the crowding people, and as if by fate, you see his dark eyes, the fluffy curls brushed back to conform. He shouldn’t look that good in a dark suit.
Most noticeably, his gaze isn’t fixed on the church, on the six men carrying your mother. It’s transfixed on you.
The service is beautiful, if you can describe it like that. Flowers are placed atop of your mother’s coffin, the service of words correlating to her soul, the hymns sung were always her favorite when you had frequented church as a young girl. However, there’s a turning point. When the priest begins to speak of her dear children, tears pool in your lower lash-line. You want to take the time for yourself, to mourn, but louder sobs are emitting from next to you; the youngest child is beginning to realize her mother is truly gone.
You’re torn; pulling her towards you would only make you cry harder; you had already seen your father and brother fall apart, silently knowing you would have to be the one to wait by the door, thanking the copious guests for attending. Her tears are suddenly quietened when you see her gently shuffled into Charles’ lap; despite the estranged relationship for the past twelve months, he’d always had a soft spot for your sister, she reminded him of when Arthur was young. Whilst her tears turn softer, he runs a hand over her back, letting the young girl rest her heavy head in his sternum.
The open gap in the seating allowed for you to shuffle closer towards your husband, his free arm wrapping around your torso. You had to remain sitting up straight; his presence right now would have to be enough for your comfort. To any unassuming eye, you would probably look like a family, the crowds of attendants would have no idea of the true story behind your marriage. Even on the darkest days, the narrative was played well.
When the service draws to a close, final prayers are spoken. The first to rise are your father and brother, both clinging to one-another as they must leave the building. Silently, you pull yourself away from your husband’s grasp, smoothing the skirt of your dress. Charles remains seated, your sister practically passing out atop of him. Today had been a heavy day for a child, after all.
There are rows of people pausing to console you on your loss whilst you stand at the door of the church; friends you had known for oh-so-long, members of the Scuderia Ferrari team; you had never seen Fred Vasseur cry, but the redness of his eyes told you something completely different as he took one of your hands in his, squeezing it in apology.
The pews filter out silently, a large group of the guests making their way back to your father’s home, the wake soon to begin, a blessing and want of your late mother. Sharp footsteps are emitted through the church, the penultimate duo being your husband and sister. He was still carrying her, head resting on his shoulder, almost completely asleep. Charles smiles at finally seeing you, using his free hand to run across the back of your head.
“I’m going to take her back.” Charles explains to you. He understands you don't need the pressure of looking after her atop of everything else bound to come your way. “Let me know when you’re done here, please?” Silently, you nod, no hesitation needed as he leans forward, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, bidding you farewell as he paces out of the church, holding your sister tightly in comfort.
You believe that’s everybody, ready to collect your belongings and thank the priest for a heart-warming farewell. Before you can even think to turn around, there’s a light cough, emitting you to spin on your heel.
He’s there. Still clad in his designer suit, hair pushed back behind his ears. Undeniably, Carlos Sainz looks good in any situation. He holds your bag in one hand, the other reaching out to clasp around your wrist. You gasp at the warm skin pressing to your own, heat radiating through your body. The man leans down, letting his lips brush against your own, a sweet feathering brush pressing onto you. Carlos wanted to be there for you, more than ever on what would be the hardest day.
Seeing Charles take that position had made his blood boil.
His grip on you remains tight as he leads you out of the church and towards his own car, parked in the most secluded section of the lot. When his grip falters to hold your hand instead, he doesn’t aim to correct it, instead only holding tighter. He only removes his grasp to unlock his car, sliding himself into the driving seat, pushing the recliner back as far as it would go. When the space is present, he guides you to rest atop of his lap, arms tightening around your waist as he lets the door close, bodies pressed together tightly.
“Is this okay?” He murmurs, keeping your faces so close together. The built-up emotion, the desire since your last kiss had built a fire in your stomach, not so much as speaking before pressing your lips to his own. Whilst your own movements had become desperate, craving for some form of emotional release, his remained feather-light, one hand tangled into your hair, the other resting firmly on your waist.
His lips are soon ghosting over your cheek, fluttering across your jawline and landing on your neck, small whines emitting from your lips as he seeks to trace his tongue over your sweetest spot. The sensation across your body, the hot touch of his skin and an undeniable bulge now settling between your legs.
There’s a sudden realization that you needed to go home. Being with Carlos was the affection you desired, your heart knows however that right now, your family needs you. Hesitantly, you pull away from the man’s lips, feeling utterly guilty for the pleading look in his eyes as you rest your forehead against his own. He could never hate you for it, though. In his eyes, you could never draw that feeling from him. You don’t need to say anything, he knows.
“I’ll drive you back.” He murmurs, pressing one final kiss to your lips before allowing you to slide into the leather passenger seat.
The drive to your father’s home is almost silent; there’s an occasional rev of the engine, various horns from different cars along the highway. A part of you always prays that each drive with the Spaniard could last forever, you could drive into the distance and live happily ever after. The fairy-tale is soon dissolved when you pull to the driveway, hearing the engine of the car cease. Your eyes find Carlos’ side profile, still transfixed on the road ahead.
“Are you coming in?” You ask gently. He sighs, the grip on his steering wheel becoming tighter.
“I can’t see you that close to him, Mariposa.” He murmurs, finally finding the courage to look you in the eyes. “Not when I want to be that close to you.” One hand finds its way off the wheel, entwining your fingers together, peppering light kisses against your knuckles. “Please call me when you go back. I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too.” You whisper, leaning to press a kiss to his stubbled cheek. In that moment, Carlos Sainz is your savior. He’s your truth.
Carlos Sainz is a liar.
Your knuckles had turned white from the grasp on your phone, you didn’t want to believe anything you were seeing. What was supposed to be an impromptu browse of Twitter whilst waiting for your husband to finish in the en-suite, had turned into a deep dive through a certain hashtag, having seen information spread on a certain Ferrari driver.
It had started as a simple few tweets, some fans and gossip pages reckoning they had seen the driver in an exclusive club, some random blonde sitting on top of him. The photos came second, though the angle was skewed, the quality too weak to see who was there. The final nail was the video; Carlos’ hand placed on her waist, how he had done to you mere hours ago, his mouth pressing against hers, clearly nothing else on his mind.
Granted, you knew you had no right to feel the anger you did; after all, you were married, Carlos was a single man, free to do as he desired. Yet, your rage was fuelled by the romantic, now seemingly empty promises he had made you; how you were his everything, how he would treat you better than Charles ever did. He was no different than Charles Leclerc, and as your fumbled fingers reached to his contact, your rage felt inclined to tell him that.
The phone rings once, twice, three times. You’re set to hang up, leave a particularly nasty text message to the man before the line connects. Immediately, your eardrums are overtaken by the loud pulse of a nightclub, some feminine laughter almost directly on top of him.
“Are you okay?” He asks. Clearly, he’s now intoxicated, his accent is always thicker when he is. You hear another voice, telling him to hang up the phone and to come and dance with her. “Hey- are you there?”
“I’m here.” You snap; why do you feel this enraged? You must have done so when you first saw Charles with his mistress; that had become such a common occurrence that the fire in your stomach must have eventually drained. “And clearly, you’re busy with the woman climbing all over you.”
“Fuck- you left me hanging!” He retorts, drunken mind clearly pressing against any form of sober thought. “You went back to your husband. Left me with nothing. Fuck the funeral.” He snaps, clearly now becoming enraged with the entire situation, with the fact he had been caught out. The words pressed through the speaker of your phone and emitted a wave of sobs from your stomach, immediately pressing the red button on your device.
Carlos Sainz wasn’t in love with you. He just liked the distraction.
Of course, as fate would have it, the moment that your tears began again was the moment Charles had left the bathroom. He’s dressed in just a pair of boxers, chest bare and tone after his warm shower. The sound of the door opening caused you to turn to the source. His eyes widen, scampering towards you, cradling you in his arms, bare chest against your cheek. Silently, you sob into his body for the third time that day, wanting nothing more than for every form of pain to stop.
“Hey, come on.” He whispers, arms circling your body, pulling you tight against him. He thinks that seeing you cry will get easier each time, that the pain in the pit of his stomach won’t continue to eat him away. However, it never gets easier; he hates seeing you cry, every single time. “It’s been a long day, yeah? Let’s get some sleep, baby.”
The nickname sounds foreign on his tongue, though neither of you question it. If anything it causes more emotion to flicker through your body, the fact that your estranged husband was finally beginning to give you. Silently, he guides the two of you into the large bed, cradling you to his chest as he had done whilst in Qatar. Sleep and emotion overtake you, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder as a ‘thank you,’ before drifting into a state of slumber.
The sleep means you miss a vital update from the Twitter threads you had been closely following earlier.
‘Carlos Sainz leaves exclusive club ALONE, despite dating rumors arising with mystery blonde.’
Carlos Sainz is your best friend.
You returned to the following day; the entire time remaining at your father’s house had consisted of nothing but tears. You had been especially concerned for your sister, watching the way she had clinged to Charles when the duo was saying their fond farewells. After a tight hug from each family member, your husband hand interlinked your fingers together, guiding the two of you to his own car, each free hand carrying along the suitcases.
The first hour of the drive home had been quiet, the buzzing streets had morphed into greenery, the sun beginning to set across the coast. Your eyelids couldn’t find it to grow heavy, having done nothing but sob and sleep for the past twenty-four hours. Instead, your focus turned to the radio, a familiar song trickling out of the speaker, one you hadn’t heard in almost eighteen months.
“Is this…” You ask, fingers reaching towards the dial, turning the volume up slightly. Behind his sunglasses, Charles grins. You hadn’t expected him to recognise the song, let alone be aware of where he recognised it from.
“Our first dance.” Your husband laughs, both nodding your head to the music. One hand on the wheel, he reached out his other hand to grasp yours on his own, a gentle squeeze passing through each hand. “We’ll have to dance to it again, properly next time.” He promises to himself, eyes focused on the road as he continues to drive you both home.
It’s almost dark by the time you have arrived back at your driveway. The stones are dipped in the darkness, the only illumination being from the headlights of Charles’ iconic vehicle. Your eyes flicker towards the doorstep, convinced the sleep is playing tricks on your mind; why on earth was there a figure standing on the doorstep to your house? They were slim, feminine, holding a cream envelope in one hand, a designer bag resting atop the other.
The familiar feeling of who she was began to nestle in your stomach. Surely, it couldn’t have been her; even your husband would not have the audacity to invite her to the house, right after you had returned home from what was quite possibly the saddest moment of your life. It couldn’t be her, even if every sign pointed towards the truth, you’d begin to search for the tiniest detail; her hair was too short. Your stomach snaps when you realize it’s the identical haircut from the Paddock mere days ago.
“What on earth-“ You hear your husband begin to speak, turning off the engine to the car. He looks over to your figure, but you show no emotion, no reaction on the exterior. Immediately, he has stepped out of the car, violently slamming the door behind him, causing you to snap out of the trance the woman had placed you upon.
Your eyes fixed upon Charles, his mistress trying to reach out into his touch. She’d pressed the envelope into his hand, continuing to speak. The words were clear through the thin glass of the car’s windscreen, divorce, pictures, evidence.
You couldn’t stick around to watch this activity play out. Immediately, you reach out for your phone, breathing uneven as you scroll through the contact list, searching for his name. Despite the last twenty-four hours, you were not too sure who else to call. It takes less than a moment for him to answer, your words rambling and falling over one another, pleading for him to come and collect you. He speaks firmly, commanding you to stay in the car, he would be there as soon as possible.
Charles is so deep in conversation, pleading for his mistress to reconsider, that he doesn’t see you slip out of the car, stepping down the driveway into the awaiting car of Carlos Sainz. He makes no intention to show you affection when first stepping into the vehicle, his only intention to get you out of the situation as soon as possible. Whilst silence filled the space between you both, you had sent a text to your husband, confirming your disappearance.
23:01: You
I’m so sorry, I can’t be there when she is, not anymore. I’ll be back at the house tomorrow. Thank you for everything.
There’s no response. If you’re completely honest, you were not expecting anything else, not whilst he was engrossed in conversation. The street is quiet as you pull into Carlos’ driveway. Saying nothing, the man simply removes his keys from the ignition, before leaning over your frame to open your door, ever the gentleman. Of course, his eyes catch yours as he leans back, creating a deep gaze for oh-so-long. Carefully slipping out of his gaze, you leave the car, walking up the steps to his apartment, the door opening for your arrival.
It's homely. Clearly lived in. Shoes are thrown across the entrance mat, coats hanging in the rack. Although it is primarily basic, a little bare, there’s touches around the complex which warm your heart; a photograph of the man with his sisters and father, a helmet you immediately recognise as Lando Norris’ resting atop of a bookshelf. There’s fine wine glasses resting atop of his coffee table; clearly ready for their usage before your untimely call.
The details become irrelevant the moment you feel his warm arms circle around your middle; the rising of your hoodie lets his body heat radiate onto yours. Carlos doesn’t need to say anything, his face comes towards the joint between your neck and your shoulder, using his nose to brush your hair away, exposing the skin he craves to mark.
“Mariposa.” He whispers, hiding his expression in your soft skin. “I can explain her, I can explain who she is, I didn’t-“
This time, it’s you who rolls around in Carlos’ touch, your arms entwining around his neck, pulling his lips to touch yours. The Spaniard does not need convincing, his grip on your waist immediately tightening, pushing your bodies closer together, if that was even humanly possible. This time, when his lips begin to trail down your neck, there’s no hesitation left in your mind, letting the man dance across your skin, leaving small bites, trails of his tongue against you.
You realize it’s you, making a small whine as he pulls away from your body, catching his breath whilst his tanned arms reach to the bottom of his shirt, exposing his chest once more. This time, your fingers fumble to find the hem of your hoodie, pulling the clothing atop of your head, exposing the laciest bra Carlos had ever seen. There’s a grunt from the back of his mouth as he darts forward, one rough palm scooping your breast from the lingerie, his mouth immediately finding your nipple, tongue tracing across the sensitive skin whilst his stubble rubs against your exposed flesh.
He doesn’t let up, not even when your legs go weak. His mouth remains firmly attached, using his arms to instead scoop you into his grasp, your whining sheer pornography to his ears whilst he carries you into his bedroom.
He will simply ruin you for every other person, and god forbid if he lost you now.
You realize hours later, somewhere between your post-orgasm haze and the combined warmth of Carlos’ hoodie and his firm arms that best friends did not have intense, body-numbing sex in the middle of the night, specifically when one of them was married, the other one a close friend of her husband. Yet, it somehow feels normal, as if this had been the longest impending explosion. Of course, you had explained to the man the reasoning for calling him out so late, for him to simply hush you, promising you would have never been a burden to him. The further questions of what is to come next are pushed to the back of your mind.
Your sleeping state misses two key moments. The first? The slight camera shutter from a phone as Carlos places his device back on the nightstand, snuggling down into the blankets, his dream to hold you whilst he slept finally arising.
The second? Your phone finally buzzed with a response from your husband, unable to sleep without knowing you were in the large house alongside him.
02:51: Charles Leclerc
I’m in love with you.
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CRAZY EX P.2 (click here to read part 1)
Synopsis: The one where you and your ex talk it out
Warnings: mentions of past betrayal, yandere tendencies(not super crazy) , pussy eating, hair pulling, praising, 2 jk povs, jk "asks" for forgiveness.
Pairing: Dom!jk x fem!reader
a/n: last part to this! enjoy it :)
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JK'S POV:
My eyes grow heavy as i scroll through her instagram posts for what felt like the 100th time. Was she really this happy without me?
I figured after last weekends little fiasco she'd be hooked on me all over again, but she wasn't. In fact she's ignored every single call i sent her. There's no way she wasn't thinking about me.
The thought makes me click out of instagram and tell siri to call y/n. The phone dials a couple times before it goes straight to voicemail. I roll my eyes in annoyance as i stand up. Why the fuck did she give me her number if she wasn't even gonna answer my calls?
I slip on my shoes and jacket for the cold weather and grab my car keys. I remembered where she lived very well, and if she wasn't gonna talk to me over the phone, i'd show up unannounced.
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Y/N'S POV:
Three loud knocks on my front door startle me out of my sleep. Instinctively placing my hand over my chest in fear. Who the fuck was at my apartment this late at night?
I search around my bed for my phone, throwing my pillows and blankets around as i search. When i finally find it i click it on in a hurry. The time reading "11:31 p.m" , The multiple missed calls from jungkook don't go unnoticed and i groan mentally. Just because i gave him my number didn't mean he had to call every second of the day.
The knocks sound again and i get up, slowly walking over to my door in fear that it was a intruder. I keep my phone in my hand, scared that I may have to dial 911 for the first time.
I unlock the door without thinking and it flings open, jungkook rushing inside as if he's been waiting all night. I note that this is the last time i'll be unlocking my door without checking the peephole.
He looks at me in anger, as if i did something wrong. "Why the fuck haven't you answered my calls?" I almost laugh at the emphasis he puts on the curse word. "Why the fuck are you at my house this late at night?" I ask, slightly mocking him.
He slaps his palm on his forehead, motioning for me to close the door. I look at him without a word, quietly deciding if i should force him to get out, but i don't.
I slowly close my door, locking it as he sits on the couch. "Look before you say anythi-" he cuts me off automatically. "I'm not here to argue with you- i.. i want you back with you y/n" he states, his voice filled with disappointment.
I roll my eyes right in his face. I wasn't dumb, the multiple calls to my phone were enough to tell me he wanted a second chance. "Jungkook.. we broke up for a reason." i say, finally gathering the courage to take a seat next to him on my couch.
"not to mention you payed my friend!" i say, my voice suddenly raising. "You payed my friend just so you could get me alone! Are you insane?" I hadn't forgotten about last weekend, what he did was fucked up. I hadn't talked to my bestfriend since then, the event causing me to question how real our friendship was.
He lets out a sigh at my words. "Well.. i" he mutters, sticking his face into his hands. He knew it was true, and he knew it was wrong.
After a while he sticks his head up, looking at me with a expression i couldn't quiet read. "I wanna make it up to you." he says, closing some of the distance between us on the couch.
I cross my arms, glaring at him. "How?" i say, looking him up and down as he moves closer.. again. "His hand falls onto my shoulder, gently massaging it. I slowly shake my head, moving my shoulder away from his grip.
"Sex isn't the answer for everything jungkook, last week was.. that was a one time thing." i say, my mind flooding with images of what happened the other weekend. I shake the thoughts away as soon as they appear.
"Not gonna fuck you." he says, moving onto his knees in front of me as he parts my thighs, pushing my back onto the couch. "Gonna show you how sorry I am.." i let out a sigh, i was going to regret this, i could feel it. For now, i'd just enjoy the moment.
He looks at me, awaiting some sign of approval this time unlike the last. I give him a nod, giving him the green light to pull off my shorts.
JK'S POV:
I run my tounge over my lip as I pull off her underwear as well, sitting up for a moment to lean over her. "Open your mouth." she obeys me, like always. I take the opportunity to stuff her soaked underwear into her mouth, moving back onto my knees afterward.
"Know you missed me eating this little cunt." i say, my dick hardening at the sight of it, her pussy already wet before I even lay a finger on her.
I lift her thigh so her foot rests on the couch before i wrap my lips around her clit, moaning into her cunt as she grabs my hair.
She tugs on it hard and i let her. She deserved it after all the shit i'd been putting her through this week. Blowing up her phone like that was a little bit far.
"S-Shit.. just like that koo-" The feeling of her pulling on my hair was enough to make me bring my hand down to my pants, palming myself over my clothes. I don't think my dick could get any harder than it already was.
The more she moans the sloppier my tounge gets, licking and sucking wherever i could. The sight was so vulgar i wanted to pull out my phone and record her, show everyone how much she really wanted me behind closed doors.
Blowing on her clit lightly, i chuckle as she lets out a whine. "Don't tease me" her voice was soft, reminding me how different we both were from each other. Even more reason as to why she was so perfect for me. "Be patient baby, i'll make you cum"
I stuff my head back between her legs, my tounge dipping in and out of her hole. I don't let my eyes leave her face, obsessed with the way her mouth hung open.
I push a finger in without a warning, biting my lip as she squeals, her hand grabbing my wrist. "I can't- fuck" i watch as tears roll down her cheeks, proud at the fact i was making her feel so good she couldn't do anything but cry and moan like a little whore.
"You can take it baby, sit back" i say, using my other hand to push her back on the couch as her cunt spasms around my finger. I bring my head back down, not wanting to miss the opportunity to have her cumming on my face for the first time in months.
"That's it, cum for me." i mumble into her pussy, my words barely even audible. It's not long until she's squirming on the couch above me, cumming on my face just how i wanted.
It's takes a minute for me to finally lift my head, but i do when her cries become louder than before. I place soft kisses on her leg, slowly lowering her foot back to the floor.
"You forgive me?" i say, my thumb caressing her cheek as i smile at her exhausted face. She gives me a small grin before she speaks "if i say yes will you stop blowing up my phone?"
I fake think about it for a minute and she pushes my shoulder playfully. "Maybe" is all i say, and she gives me a nod. "I'll take that" she says, placing a soft kiss to my lips.
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Edit of Eddie: Sofiiel
Stripper!Eddie x Shy!Fem!Reader
Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 (end)
WC: 11.1k
⚠️ +18 MDNI, Stripper!Eddie, nervousness, fluff, self doubt, flirting, soft touches, mentions of vomit, skin on skin contact, kissing, kissing with tongue, pining, sexual tension, angst, anxiousness, self-deprecating thoughts, low self-esteem, panic attack hinting, nausea, dizziness, miscommunication
Plot: You thought you were cursed with your shyness, but after one embarrassing night, you decide it's time to change, and you believe someone might be able to help with that.
Summary: The morning after came, the need for a talk is there, a new realization, new found feelings... as well as the gears going back to the starting line.
A/N: I am sorry.
You can always support me by hitting the reblog button with tags, and I always enjoy reading your comments!
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PART 7
The sound of a bird chirping caught your ear as you slowly gained your senses back, a soft whine staying in your throat as you rustled slightly in your place. There was so much warmth, making you sigh in complete happiness, as the body next to you held you even closer, his soft snores hitting the top of your head, the smell of his cologne that still lingered–
Body holding you close?
Your eyes snapped open like plates, being met with a bare chest in front of you as it slowly raised up and then back down, tattoos splattered on his skin, tattoos you recognized now. Your heart picked up a pace as you slowly, without moving too much, pulled your head off his chest to finally look up. Your breath was caught in your throat, a squeal wanting to come out as you saw Eddie’s sleeping face, his hair all over the pillow.
Your mouth fell open as you moved your legs slightly, feeling the soreness that now resides in between them. You needed to move away from him because you had to collect yourself. You had to think. You had to process whatever happened yesterday and you were beginning to breathe heavily and you really didn’t want to wake him up, not yet.
You closed your mouth, trying to hold your breaths in as much as you could as you slowly started to wiggle out of his grasp, earning a scrunch of his nose and a groan. You tensed up when you moved, but he rolled off you in his sleep, laying on the other side of the bed with a soft sigh. You held your hand to your chest, feeling it almost ripping out from it with every thump. Your belly was turning, almost painfully as you raised yourself from his arm that was wrapped around you seconds ago, and probably was numb from being under your body the whole night.
You stared at his bare chest, your blankets covering until they met on his hips, and that’s when you realized you were stark naked, looking down at your body that– Oh god… You had hickies. You almost squealed but you threw a hand over your mouth, holding the noise in. You really had to go and collect yourself, because you needed to go through the events from yesterday and try to calm yourself before he wakes up because you two would definitely have a talk.
And that was the problem, about what?
You slowly took the blankets off your legs and swung them to the side, and you winced slightly at the soreness on your inner thighs. It’s been way too long since you… Since you had sex. Shit, you had sex. You slept with Eddie, your friend Eddie. Just because of a split second of horniness. You stood up before you screamed and looked around to find something that didn’t require you to open your closet in order to not make any noise.
You gulped as you grabbed onto your white cotton panties that you had taken out yesterday but decided on the black set. Where’s the bra? You can’t find it, and the only things you have are the black dress from yesterday, which is a no, a pair of gym shorts that you use for bed, and an oversized white shirt. Those two will have to do, at least for now, so you could run away from the room as soon as possible.
You grabbed onto the garments and threw them on carefully in order to not stumble and trip and probably make a fool out of yourself in front of the guy you slept with a few hours ago. You felt your face burn at that while you pulled the shirt over your head and your breathing was coming out in heavy amounts from your mouth and you quickly tiptoed out of the room, and closed the door behind you making as little noise as possible.
You let the breath that was in your lungs finally leave your body as you stepped away from your door as if it were on fire. Okay, you were alone now, Eddie is naked in your room, in your bed, because you two slept together yesterday night. Your hands ran over your face and pulled your hair back, gripping your scalp tightly, feeling your intestines just twisting all about, heart in your throat and the flow of your blood very loud in your ears.
You started pacing back and forth, taking deep breaths as you started to think. What did this all mean? You acted out of instinct, out of urges. What were you? An animal? But Eddie didn’t seem to mind, he actually went in for more with you, didn’t he? You made all the moves of course, which you still don’t know how or why you did that, but you did and he followed.
But what now? What is going to happen now? You crossed the line, this isn’t just a friendship anymore, friends don’t fuck eachother, at least, not your normal type of friendships don’t. How are you going to explain yourself? What if he asks why you did what you did yesterday? What are you going to tell him? ‘Hey, I realized that I am heavily attracted to you.’
Sure, that is true, but what would that mean between the two of you? What are his feelings about this and… how did he feel yesterday? Were you enough? Were you good? He seemed to enjoy himself, but you didn’t really do much, so did he like it? Did he really want to do that with you?
“Fuck…” You were biting on your thumb’s skin next to your fingernail again. You really don’t know what is going on, you really have no idea how to move from this. This is the first time you actually felt good while having sex, and you really never in your life experienced what he did to you yesterday. Your eyes widened as you stood in place, eyes widening as another curse left your lips.
The burning in your belly was back.
How was this not enough? You went all the way with him, with a man you are actually attracted to, so why are you still yearning for more? It made no sense, and how your body reacts to the memory of him in between your legs is absolutely ridiculous. You looked at the door once, licking your bottom lip as your mind became slightly hazy again.
Maybe you can act normally? Just, go back into his arms in bed, see where that takes you, see him as he wakes up and smiles at you, and you two would probably talk about the fries from yesterday night and how you didn’t get actual dinner. He would ask for some pancakes again, and then you would gladly make them.
He would like that right? Waking up with breakfast? You can do that, just normally, like the other day you were at his home. Everything was normal after that, and everything can be normal after last night. You can do this. It’s going to be completely fine, you just don’t have to think too much about it, and maybe he won’t either. You took a deep breath in and walked towards your kitchen to start on preparing some coffee and then start grabbing the ingredients for your chocolate chip pancakes.
You were taking deep breaths, trying to concentrate on your cooking. Eggs, milk, flour, chocolate chips in. You froze. You put the chocolate chips into the batter. Just how he likes it. Stop thinking. Stop thinking. Stop thinking. Your guts turned again as you kept stirring the batter, over and over again, the gears in your head making you dizzy as the thoughts started reappearing again.
He is going to wake up soon, what are you going to say? Act normal, that’s what you settled on, but now you don’t remember what normal is. How is normal after this? What is normal about any of this? It’s not. It’s definitely not normal to sleep with your friend. Are you going to keep being friends? Oh, what if he doesn't even want to be friends? How are you going to be able to handle that?
The smell of coffee snapped you out again and you looked down at the batter, letting a breath come out of your lips to finally put the pan on the stove. You grabbed onto one of your plates as you started cooking the pancakes, trying to just focus on making them the perfect shape, cooking them just right, letting the air be filled with the sweet smell–
“Shit darling, that smells good.”
You froze on your fourth pancake, with the spatula underneath it about to turn it over. Your heart was in your throat now, maybe your ears, you didn’t know, but there was a sharp noise ringing in your eardrums, blocking any sounds coming from around you, including Eddie’s steps that were being taken towards you.
He was now behind you, you could feel his presence on your back, your chest heaving up and down as you stared down, not noticing that the pancake was starting to burn already. You couldn’t move, you didn’t want to look at him, you didn’t know what to say, how to act, how to move, and your body simply grew into a cold sweat, your hand trembling with the utensil still in your grasp.
Eddie has actually been awake the moment you made him roll over in the bed. He kept his eyes closed because his heart was in his throat, and he knew he had to give you time. He knew he had to leave you alone to gather your thoughts on what happened, and he couldn’t simply dive in and envelop you again, even if that was what he wanted the most. Once you were out of the room, he sat up too quickly and ran his hands through his hair as his eyes stared widely on the comforters of the bed.
He slept with you. The thing he didn’t believe to happen at all, happened, which was you showing him what you wanted to do with him. You had the guts that he didn’t have. You made the first moves, all of them, and his mind and self control completely shut off last night, but so did yours. He felt his south area beginning to harden again as he remembered last night, your body, your taste, and he didn’t even do head. He almost never did, but he was desperate for you last night, and he still is.
When you started losing yourself to your lust against him, he really thought he had gone to heaven at that very moment. He could have died a happy man yesterday after what happened, but then he wouldn’t get more. He wouldn’t be able to taste you again, to feel you again, to hold you again, and he wanted to, crazily so. He wasn’t going to let this be a one time thing, and he needed to tell you just that, but he knew you were processing yourself right now, after all, it was the first time you had acted out of impulse to your urges.
He held back a grin as he bit his bottom lip, dropping his hands on the bed. You let go with him, which meant, hopefully, that you reciprocated what he was feeling. You weren’t a friend, not anymore. He didn’t want you to be. He actually had decided, selfishly so, to not be your friend any longer almost a month ago. It had hit him like a train really, not even thinking that you would crawl under his skin the way you did, but the more time he spent with you, the more time you two talked about each other, and to be even interested in one another’s life stories, he knew he was a goner.
His head snapped towards the door as he heard you pacing around the living room and his gut turned with nervousness as his fingers trembled with the need of going and console you, to tell you what he was feeling, to tell you that everything is just fine, and he wishes he could tell you that everything is okay and that nothing changes… But he can no longer say that. There was no way he was letting you go this time, he wasn’t going to pretend to be normal, he wasn’t going to pretend like you didn’t kiss him fucking stupid last night, he wasn’t going to pretend like he didn’t have the best night of his life just a few hours ago.
Minutes later, his nose caught the smell of coffee, and then a sweet smell. Pancakes. You were making him pancakes. He smiled widely at that, because despite you probably having a breakdown, or being nervous right now, you still decided to make breakfast for him. He took a deep breath in, getting up from the bed to throw on his boxers and pants, looking over at his shirt. If he dresses himself, fully, he was afraid of you thinking that everything was done with, and it was anything but. Shirtless it is.
So now, he stands behind you, noticing how stiff you got, and the smell of burnt pancake filled his nostrils. His hand raised up to slowly graze over your wrist that was holding the spatula, and you almost jumped at the touch, but he held onto your wrist instantly, pulling it up so that the pancake would lift from the pan and throwing it on the plate next to the stove. He could almost hear your breathing from how hard it was, and truly, he was holding his own back in order to not make you any more nervous.
His eyes then darted towards the bowl with batter in it, and he almost looked away when he noticed you had put the chocolate chips inside it this time, instead of sprinkling them on top of the pancake while it was cooking. The corner of his lip turned upwards at the gesture, and his chest puffed up with pride and with hope but for now, he had to snap you back into reality, because you were still frozen in his hold.
“Angel… It’s just me.” Those three words that always seemed to calm you for some reason, those three words that simply made all your nerves go away, even if little. Knowing it was just Eddie, knowing he wasn’t there to judge you, or criticize you, or call you out, but just be there for you, with you. You took a big gulp while you gripped onto the spatula even harder.
“I–” No words were coming out. There was no way you could talk at this moment, because you actually didn’t know what to say, where to start, or how to even begin to describe what you were feeling or what you were thinking, but it seems you didn’t have to think too hard, because he was already blabbering, getting hold of the bowl with some batter left.
“See? It’s less messier when you already put the chocolate chips in.” You blink dumbly at his words, looking at the bowl. He tipped some in the pan, and his tongue stuck out from the corner of his mouth as he stuck his finger in the batter and dragged more chocolate chips into that specific pancake. That actually made you snap out.
“Don’t touch the batter with your fingers!” You exclaim at him as you wiggle the pan a bit to get all the edges with the mix. You heard him chuckle next to you as he set the bowl down.
“It needed more chocolate chips! That’s mine by the way.” He said pointing at the pancake that was already cooking and it was more chocolate than the mix. You rolled your eyes at his childishness. He stuck his finger inside his mouth, licking the batter off it.
“More chocolate chips next time, got it.” You said almost in a groan but he didn’t miss the ‘next time’ part. His mind went places. Waking up with you next to him, cuddling until midday, both of you not getting out of bed even if you needed to pee and only till your bellies grumbled that you two would get up to go make some pancakes together, laughter filling the kitchen as he shoves way too many chocolate chips in the mix and you yell at him for being too reckless.
“I’m feeling fancy for next time, maybe add some blueberries in it? Or, hear me out… marshmallows.” He says and you cringed at the sweetness of it all, but also a small giggle came out of your throat as you flipped the pancake on the pan.
“That’s a s'mores pancake… You can literally just have S’mores.” You say and you hear him chuckle next to you, as he walks towards the coffee pot, and sees that you had already prepared two empty cups to pour the liquid in. He filled his cup in black coffee, but yours only half. He walked towards your fridge to get your vanilla creamer out, and finally filled the rest of your coffee with it. You didn’t miss the gesture, a strong heat invading your belly and cheeks.
“It’s not the same! The S’mores have biscuits. Pancakes are fluffier, imagine how much fluffier they would be with marshmallows inside. Honestly, I think we’re onto something here sweetheart.” You flip the pancake onto the stack you had next to the stove and turn it off because you believed five pancakes were fine for the two of you. “Or maybe we can add some mint in them.”
That made your mouth drop open, your head snapping to your side to look at him with widened and disgusted eyes, but you froze again when you saw him. The back of his hip was resting on the counter as he looked at you with a smile to his face, one hand holding a mug, the other was handing you yours. You didn’t realize that you were talking normally to him until now. How did Eddie do it? Every single time?
“T-Thanks…” You say as you look down from his eyes but it was a bad idea. He was shirtless. Oh, the fucking flashbacks. Your whole body heated up at the memories of your nails going all over his skin, all over his chest, all over his arms. You took a large gulp out of your coffee and you clenched your eyes at the taste. It was the perfect measurement.
“I had to bring your despise for mint for you to look at me.” He lets out with a small chuckle, taking a sip of his own coffee. You blinked down at your cup, not really knowing where to go from here. Should you apologize? Should you tell him that he should forget about it? But why would you say something so hypocritical when you didn’t want to forget about it?
“I– I– just don’t know–” You tried to say out loud but your throat went dry at those few words, making you take more sips out of your mug, and he sighed, taking one last sip of his, putting his cup on the counter.
“Tell me what you’re thinking Angel. I need to know what you’re thinking.” And how do you even begin? You don’t even know what you feel, you don’t even know if it was right, if it was wrong, but the only thing you knew, is that you desired Eddie, that you were attracted to him in ways that not even god could define. But you won’t tell him that, because that’s when you would crawl into a hole and disappear from the world.
“I– I really don’t know– Yesterday… I never–” You blabbered, stuttered, and he was being patient as he looked at you, hands trembling with the cup in between them. He felt his chest about to explode but he still waited, wanting to hear you, to understand you, but he knew your mind was just a jumbled mess, he can hear it in the tremble on your voice and in the way your eyes were going back and forth as if looking for an answer somewhere.
He raised his hand up to place it on the cheek that was not facing him, and you immediately froze again. He leaned down and forward to press a soft kiss on the cheek facing him this time, and your body felt like it melted away, your bones going all soft and wiggly on you, a sigh escaping your lips at the touch of his lips on your skin. For some reason, this gesture made some of the black clouds move away from your mind, leaving some space for clarity, for you to slowly turn your head to face him again as he pulled away from you, his thumb caressing your cheek in gentle circles.
“Do you regret it? Because let me tell you darling, I sure as hell don’t.” Even if your heart wanted to burst into a million pieces from how hard it was beating, your eyes still widened at his words, surprise taking all over your features.
“Y-You don’t?” You asked with a hint of confusion in your tone as well. He licked his lips as his throat closed up on him, but he gulped it down so that he could keep talking. You were just too beautiful right now, looking up at him with those eyes that he adored.
“I did mean what I said yesterday.” He says and you tilt your head at that, trying to remember everything that was said at the bar, or when you walked your way to it with him, and he smiled at you, pulling his hand off your face, grabbing the mug out of your hands and placing it on the counter next to his. Your eyebrows knitted together at that, looking at the cup leaving your grasp.
“Why—” You began to ask, but when you looked back up at him, your mouth immediately closed, seeing the serious face he had on. It made your heart jump slightly as well as your stomach, not knowing how his smile turned into this serious look. His hand raised to pinch on the side of your shirt with his fingers and tugged you in front of him, almost making you stumble at the sudden jerk. He then pressed that same hand on your waist, firmly, while the other raised up to gently hold your cheek to make you look up at him.
“You have no idea for how long I’ve wanted last night to happen.” He says while looking down at you, his eyes searching for yours as a gasp was caught in your throat, your body heating up at his words and your head was about to look down, but he held you in place, shaking his head at you. “No, keep looking at me.”
“B-But I didn’t do— I didn’t do anything—” He shook his head again, your eyes trying to avoid his as you talked, now your chest thumping wildly, blood pumping everywhere in your body at a very accelerated pace, and you didn’t notice how your voice was trembling and how you were slowly beginning to shake in his grasp.
“I need you to calm down baby… It’s really just me.” He gave small circles on your cheek, which made your eyes look back at him, your mind going blank. He wanted last night to happen? He wanted to sleep with you? Many questions were going through your mind but only one was voiced out.
“We had sex.” His eyebrows raised up in surprise, a smile appearing on his lips, dimples showing off, but you were still completely bewildered as you blinked at him, your mind just trying to work overtime now for you. “You-You saw me naked, I saw you naked—”
“Pretty necessary for having sex Angel.” He says with a laugh this time, and that only made your brain simply burn off, steam coming off the top of your head. You gulped as his laughter slowly tuned down, the turning in your belly and the doubt in your mind now cooperating to formulate another question.
“Why— Why with me?” You managed to ask, and that made Eddie’s laugh completely turn off, only for you to continue. “I-I’m just… not—” And he knew who you were comparing yourself to. The clients in the club stood no chance against you, they really didn’t, but you didn’t believe that. He weighed his options, and he decided it would be better to show you.
“You’re not what?” His hand left your cheek to mimic his other one, pressing on your waist, now firmer than before, and he pulled your body flush into his, and your eyes widened up at him. He leaned down close to your ear, his breath hitting your skin, sending shivers down your spine as the fire in your belly ignited once more. “Feel what you do to me by just standing in your kitchen in an oversized white shirt.”
Against your belly was the same hardness you felt yesterday night on your hip. The one you felt rubbing itself against your center. The one you felt against your thigh when he climbed over towards you. And now, you didn’t have the dress on, your makeup was smudged and you cleaned it up with your fingers as much as you could, you probably smell like sweat… and he still wants you.
He couldn’t help himself, being close to your ear, to your skin, and his mouth instantly pressed a gentle kiss under your earlobe, a gasp coming out of your lips as the touch left your skin burning. You should ask him, you should talk to him, stop and try to think for a second, but that was the problem right now, you didn’t want to, and it seems that he didn’t either.
His kiss trailed down towards your neck, soft lips pressing against your pulse point, and your hands raised up shakily to hold onto his biceps, fingernails digging into his skin, and his own digits dug into your waist, trying to have a cable back to earth, but his self control was slipping away again the more he took your scent in, the more he tasted you again on his lips.
More. More. More.
Now that chant was on repeat in his mind as well, at the same time it was happening in yours. He was repeating your actions from yesterday, letting himself go, his mouth doing the work for him, not a single thought running in his head except for the need to hold you again, just running his lips on your skin again.
“I really mean it…” He mumbled in your neck, more kisses being left there as he kissed his way from one side to the other, making your head turn with soft breaths escaping your mouth which was making his brain simply scramble into nothing. “You have no idea for how long I’ve wanted you.”
His voice was low, and your belly was burning with need again, your hands slowly trailing over his biceps to rest one hand on his shoulder, the other around his neck, pulling him into you, making his kisses turn hungrier, not being able to hold it and sucking on your skin to mark you, to leave you the reminder that this happened between you both, for you to look at it at every hour today, and tomorrow, and he wishes that by the end of today he would be able to retrace his mark again and again, not letting it fade at all, even if weeks went by.
“Eds—” You softly mumble as a moan escapes your lips, your eyes half lidded as you bathe in his attention. You heard a soft groan against your skin, only for the warmth that was there to simply vanish as he pulled away from you. Before you could complain, before you could ask, before the gears in your brain could start working again, his lips found yours, making your nails grip onto his shoulder even tighter.
He was hungry, and it wasn’t for the pancakes, and he made it known by how he instantly started moving his lips against yours, rough, yet with deepness, with care, swallowing your breaths into his mouth, taking everything he could from you. You didn’t even had time to process what was happening, except for your desire to start talking for you as well, and your brain was simply processing the words ‘Fuck it’.
You started returning his kiss in the same manner, the hand on his neck going to his nape to pull him even deeper into you, your other hand sliding off his shoulder to rub against his bicep and he groaned into you, your touch making his gut turn in excitement, in nervousness, in need, just by you scratching your nails on his skin, not even on an erogenous zone. He sort of cursed you in his head for the way you made him feel like putty in just two seconds and with just one touch.
He ran his tongue over your bottom lip, and your mouth instantly invited him in, a moan of yours escaping into his as his tongue pressed against yours. You felt him even harder against your belly, making the heat in your center reappear at an alarming rate, almost too hot for you to handle. Now that you knew what he could do to you, this burning was even worse than before. It was much, much worse, but you didn’t hate it, you didn’t dislike it and you didn’t want to push it away.
His hands finally moved from your waist, and you gasped into the kiss as you felt his fingertips gliding underneath the hem of your shirt, pulling it up as he finally pressed his hand against your bare back, flushing you into him, and you shivered at how big his palm was against you, how hot it felt, but another gasp escaped you when you felt his other hand cup the round of one of your cheeks, now pressing you against his bottom half even harder.
He moaned in his throat and you melted at the sound, your tongue still dancing with his as his hands pressed against you, rubbed, groped, simply felt as if wanting to remember every part of your skin and body, on how your skin was soft yet warm under his palms. Your minds were filled with one another, not wanting to separate at all, and he needed you again, screw the pancakes, he can eat those later, right after he has you.
He had to guide you to your bedroom, you need to know how much he wants you still, how much he will want you after, and the days to come, and he is certain he is not going to ever get tired of you, not when you taste like this, when you feel like this, when you burn like this.
He pushed himself off the counter, ready to begin to guide you back to where you both woke up minutes ago. You were going to let him, your belly turning anxiously as you let yourself wanting him again, and maybe this time you can try to make him feel good too. You want to really make him feel good, just like he did yesterday and the other night. You were eager to learn what he liked, eager to hear him moan because of what you do to him, and you never in your life thought you would be eager to do something like that before.
The music of Master of Puppets suddenly filled the room and your eyes opened like plates.
You two pulled away, brows furrowed together as you both looked around to where it was coming from. Eddie finally spotted his jacket on the floor, just where he left it yesterday and he cursed under his breath. He had to let you go to actually answer the phone.
“Hang on sweetheart.” He gave you a small peck on the lips before letting go of your body, and you just stood there, frozen as you felt the cold hitting your skin again. What happened? How did you go from making pancakes to almost having sex with him once more? How did that happen in such a short lapse of time?
He grabbed his jacket from the floor, grimacing slightly at it because he just left a wet patch on the floor, not letting it dry properly so it was still kind of wet in some folds. He dug into his pocket for his phone, pulling it out to look at the caller ID. He blinked a few times at it and when he didn’t answer is when you turned your head to look at him.
“Eds…?” You called him out, almost breathlessly and he turned to look at you with a small smile on his face.
“I have to get this Angel, I’ll be back.” You watched him put the jacket on the counter to then go back into your room, closing the door behind him. Your breath finally left your lungs, the burning calming down slightly, but not quite. You gulped heavily as you licked your lips, and you knew they were red and plump from the kissing you just did. You couldn’t help but feel… Happy. That’s how you felt, a small smile appearing on your lips.
You didn’t mind your mind shutting off when it came to him, you really didn’t. But the uneasiness of not knowing what all of this meant came back, but not because he was not clarifying it with you. It was because you weren’t being clear with yourself. What did this all mean? Why were you like this? Was this really how simple attraction felt like?
Your ear picked up movement in your room, and you really didn’t want to eavesdrop, but you really couldn’t help yourself, and it only took two steps for you to listen to Eddie’s low voice through the door. Even when he wanted to speak in whispers he was loud.
“Yeah, I heard you… I forgot about today, but I can— Yeah…— Okay, see you later then–.”
You blinked at those words, brows knitting together in confusion. Who was he talking to? You heard more shuffling and you panicked, not wanting him to know you were listening to his conversation and you went back towards the pancakes, now cold and you pretended to prepare a plate for you to put one on when you heard the door open. Your blood pumped in your veins in a wildly manner as you turned to see Eddie with his turtleneck on, boots thumping on your floor as he mumbled curses under his breath.
“Are you alright?” It was the first question that popped in your head, because he didn’t look happy at all, and seeing him in his clothes again made your mood instantly drop, realizing that he was leaving.
“Yeah– Um… I have to go… Steve needs me to take him somewhere– Kind of forgot about it.” He says to you with a small smile to his face, almost forced and you stood still in your place, not really knowing what to do. He saw your hesitation, so he took the steps between the both of you, his hands cupping your face, leaning down to place a soft peck on your lips. Your breath hit his face as he pulled away, but lingered over your lips, and you couldn’t help but voice out the first question that came to mind.
“You really have to go?” And Eddie wanted to die right then and there. You didn’t want him to leave, but fuck, he had to go. His knees almost buckled at your voice yet, he nodded with a saddened look on his face.
“Yeah… But we’ll talk later okay? We really do need to talk… Right Angel?” Your eyes locked with his at those words, and your face flushed in a way that wasn’t because of embarrassment, but just pure adoration. You nodded, almost dumbly at his words, making a smile appear on his lips. He gave you a peck on your lips again, not really wanting to go without his dose and he has to quickly pull away before he gets distracted with you once again.
He pulled away from you and you felt your body completely warm now, not even cold, not even if he pulled away from you. He grabbed onto his jacket with one hand and walked towards the door, opening it to then look towards the counter. He rushed back to grab onto two full pancakes, shoving them in his mouth, the rest still sticking out, making your eyes go wide, afraid he’ll choke.
“Eddie!” He smiled at you with the pancakes between his teeth, winking at you before doing a little jog out of the door, closing it behind him, finally leaving you alone in your home.
Your hands immediately went towards your mouth, covering it to contain your screams, afraid that he was still out there. You were feeling so many things at one single moment. Nervousness, fear, happiness, indecisiveness, embarrassment, delight, and arousal. All of that was happening in one single moment which was making your heart rate pick up even more than before.
You were going to have a stroke by the end of the day, you knew that. And he wants to talk. What does he want to talk about? What are you supposed to talk about? What are you supposed to say? To feel? How do you even start the conversation with him? What is going to be your new normal? What did you want it to be?
You absentmindedly grabbed onto one pancake and took a bite out of it, only to spit it out onto the plate in disgust.
It was the burnt one.
He hasn’t spoken to you all day, and that made you anxious. It’s already 7 PM, and it’s his day off, so he should be available, right? You could message him, but what do you even want to say? Hi? How are you? How was your day?
There is no way you could be normal with this, you can’t act normal, not when you had to actually clean your room after yesterday’s night. Not when you discovered the ball of paper on the night table that wasn’t yours, only to open it up and find the used condom inside, and that made your memories just hit you like a car at great speed, almost knocking you over.
How can you act normal after that?
Your phone started ringing, the ringtone of The Shire started going off and your heart leaped, and you rushed from your room towards your kitchen where the noise was coming from, grabbing it from the counter, only for your face to frown into a disappointed one seeing it was Robin. That made you feel a little bit guilty, but you couldn’t help yourself. Not when you’ve been waiting all these hours for him to talk to you again. You slid the button to answer her, her face coming up on the screen, a big smile on her lips.
“Hi Rob–”
“SHE SAID YES!” That startled you, completely, almost throwing the phone to the floor. You blinked a few times as you regained the posture, as Robin’s blabbering kept going on the phone and you raised a hand towards your camera to stop her.
“Robs, Robs– I don’t understand a word you’re saying, where are you?” You frowned at seeing her on what appeared to be the mall, just walking while talking to you.
“Vickie said yes to my date!” She says excitedly and your chest warms up with joy, a smile spreads on your lips as you start bouncing in your place, and she mimics you, both of you looking completely dumb but you didn't care, nor did she.
"Holy shit!" You yell with her as you spin in your place and she laughs, a vibrant blush on her cheeks as she looks at you.
"I know!" She yells again and probably caught the attention of many people that were walking near her and you hear her say a small 'sorry' to someone, making you giggle.
"How did it happen?" You asked her, going to sit on your couch, excitement clear in your voice. She was still with a smile on her face, almost crazy looking, making you laugh at her face.
"She called me to ask me about something; I really don't even remember what it was, I think it was something about a recipe? Anyways, at the end of it I just– She just looked too pretty, you have no idea, and I blurted it out." You covered your mouth with your hand as shock washed over you. You never really imagined Robin to be straightforward, but it seems she bursted at the seams.
"Wow Robin… Why are you in the mall? When is it? Where are you both going?" The questions blurted out of your mouth like a machine gun, making Robin blush even more.
"We are going to the movies tonight, and I am getting something different than what I always wear, because I realized all my clothes look the fucking same, and maybe– Do I get her some roses? Chocolates? I’ve never been on a formal date, I don’t know how this works, I am losing my mind–”
“Robin, Jesus calm down, I bet that Vickie doesn’t care, she already said yes to a date, knowing it wasn’t a friendly outing.” You tell her and she seemed to calm down with that, giving you a soft nod as if in understanding.
“You are right… God, I just– I just like her so much…” You can see Robin’s dreamy eyes as she enters one of the stores, scanning all of the clothes that might be there, but your mind starts to wander. Robin didn’t know anything, not even that you kissed Eddie. Maybe she did because she’s friends with Steve, but she never really said anything about it… But–
“Robs?” You call out to her, heart thumping in your ears as you let your words come out of your mouth.
“Yeah?” She was still looking above the camera, and you could hear the hangers simply moving from side to side as she browsed. You cleared your throat and licked your lips, stammering a bit in your words as you tried to word your thoughts without giving yourself away.
“How do you even know it is not a simple attraction? What you feel for Vickie.” You say to her, biting on your tongue almost as the nerves in your belly started spiraling as she looked quizzically down at the phone.
“What?”
“I never experienced it, so– I mean, liking someone is simply being attracted to them, right?”
“Oh honey, no.” You sat frozen at that, blinking at the phone, your whole body just completely still on your couch as you processed her words. What? When you didn’t answer, she continued talking. “You start with attraction, then it develops into something else.”
Your heart picked up a pace again, and the hand holding the phone was growing quite the sweat. What did she mean by that? Why does it feel like she is saying something that you needed to hear? Why does it feel like she is caging you?
“And how do you even know that?” You manage to ask, and your mind for some reason is afraid of the answer. Afraid to finally come to terms with something you thought it was going to be impossible for you.
“Well, you are still attracted to them, but… You want to know about them, wake up with them by your side… I don’t know, I guess– When you are with them, and you can laugh afterwards, but still want them later on… You just want— More.”
Your eyes widened as plates at that, heart finally coming to a stop.
More. More. More.
“Oh god…” You let those words come out as a soft breath, Robin not really hearing you, too busy finding a shirt for her date, while you were having a complete breakdown on this discovery of yours. You found the word for your feelings. The word that scares you even at the deep of your gut. The word that you don’t even know if it’s reciprocated, and you are scared to even know if it is.
And now you came to realize that it’s not recent. It’s not something that happened after the first kiss even. Even when he hugged you, you always wanted more. When he held your hand, you always wanted more. When he laughed with you and you didn’t want it to ever stop, you just wanted more. It was never enough, it could never be enough, not when it came to him. You were screwed.
You fell for Eddie. Deeply.
Your body trembled with realization, with desperation to have him back with you because now that you know what name to put on your feelings, you just felt this incredible need of having him, shower him with affection, not even be nervous around him, you just needed to hold him again, kiss him again, touch him again, spend time with him again.
You were nervous, anxious even, but there was still hope in your heart, hope that he feels the same for you, hope that he wants you more than just friendship. He wants to talk to you about what happened yesterday, he wants to talk it out and now you know where you are headed. Now you know how to start the conversation. Now you know what to tell him.
“Hey, you there?” You hear Robin, making you snap completely out of your thoughts, blinking rapidly at the screen. Your friend had a small smirk on her lips, or you thought she had it, because it fell down as soon as you looked at the camera.
“Y-Yeah, I just– I remembered I have to um… get some ingredients for today’s dinner. I have nothing in my fridge.” You manage to blurt out the lie, but in your head you were already making plans, not being able to hold your words back, knowing where to go now.
“Oh, then if it’s that… Go to the grocery store… I’ll tell you everything after my date, okay?” Robin had a knowing smile on her face as she spoke to you and you really wanted to question her if she knew, but it was going to be a conversation that would take too long and you needed to run out of your apartment right at this very second.
“Yeah! I hope everything goes well Robs!” You say quickly, kind of feeling guilty for squashing over your friend’s success but it seems as if Robin didn’t really mind it, waving at you.
“Hopefully! Talk to you later!” And you said a soft ‘bye’ and hung up the call. You blinked a few times at the phone. Should you call him? Tell him– No, he has his day off. Your legs started working again as your breathing became erratic with emotion, with excitement, never in your life feeling this way before.
You finally know what everyone meant when they talked about crushes, and love. You never felt that excitement, never felt that interest, never really believed they were telling you the truth about it, but now you know it is, because your heart was exploding but in such a good way, in a perfect way that only Eddie managed to do.
Your feet took you to your room to throw on a pair of jeans, changing from your pajama pants, and then a random shirt, changing it from your oversized shirt that you were still wearing since the morning because it still held Eddie’s scent. His perfume stuck to the collar of the fabric and you whimpered when you took it off, but you had to be quick. You almost fell on your ass when you wiggled yourself forcefully into your sneakers.
You didn’t even grab your purse, just your phone and your car and house keys. You never ran so fast out of the complex and towards your car, with a smile plastered on your face all the while. When you sat yourself in front of the steering wheel, you couldn’t even believe what you were doing, what your feet were taking you, but you couldn’t hold it in anymore, just like last night.
Last night you finally exploded, wanting to finally feel him entirely, and the fact that you want, NEED more, is a sign that you have to talk it out, say that to him, say that you want more, be honest and let yourself go. Your keys got into the ignition hole, and you took a deep breath as you started your journey into the streets, your heart in your throat pumping quicker as you approached your destination.
You were probably insane, you were probably going to make a scene, and you didn’t even know how to word anything of what you were feeling properly, but you were sure you were going to say everything to him. You knew you had to. No matter how it comes out of your mouth, no matter what you have to do to get your words through, you will try and you will tell him that you like him, that you are falling for him, that you might even already have fallen to the deep end.
You parked right in front of his complex, and an old man was opening the main door to the lobby, making you rip yourself from the seatbelt and bolting out of your car, pressing the lock button over your shoulder as you reached the door, holding it open for the old man who thanked you as you anxiously waited for him to go through. Once he did, you ran towards the elevators, pressing the buttons desperately.
You looked at the numbers going down and you were chanting ‘come on, come on’ under your breath. Once the metal doors opened, you ran inside, quickly pressing his apartment’s button, almost to the point of breaking it. The door closed and you took many deep breaths in, but a smile was on your face as your ears rang from the excitement. You weren’t even thinking of the possibility of rejection, you just wanted this feeling to be known, for him to know, for him to understand.
The doors opened and you took a slow step out as you stared at his apartment door. Was this the right decision? Right now? Not even messaging him to tell him you were coming over? He had errands to run today, what if he is not home yet? But the light underneath the door frame told you otherwise, sparking your excitement once again. You walked towards the door, and took one last deep breath in. This was it.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
You waited, deep breaths coming out of your lips as you waited, rocking on the balls of your feet, back and forth, and that’s when you heard shuffling on the other side of the door, a sniffle, slippers sliding against the wooden floor, and a click of the lock was heard. When it opened, you found a very sick Steve Harrington in front of you, red nose and all, hair all over the place, his blue robe on his body and your eyes widened at the sight.
“Shit, Steve, are you okay?” You ask him and he was almost wobbly, greeting you with your name and nodding. He actually took so many tylenol and dayquil that his mind was just trying to survive at this point.
“Yeah, peachy, never felt greater in my life…” You winced at his sarcasm and he sniffled holding himself with his hand on the doorframe, his eyes completely droopy from the mucus that was on his sinus. “What brings you here, sweetness?” You straightened up again at his question, but you tilted your head in question this time, remembering that Eddie told you he had to take Steve somewhere… maybe the hospital?
“Oh, I just— I came to see Eddie.” Steve scoffed at that, and sniffled again.
“He is not here.” He says and you tilt your head in confusion again. Maybe he went to grab something to eat?
“Oh, I just assumed it’s his day off so…” You mentioned to him, and you were hoping you would get the information out of his mouth, a mouth that at this moment had no filter, and no rationality or perception.
“He must be with a client.” He says and you just blink up at him, and your mind for some reason was telling you that you should leave, that you should not hear any longer, that you have to run from there, but your feet never moved.
“A client?” You choke out, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible and Steve wobbles a bit, trying to focus on your face, but failing to do so. He waved his hand around as he explained himself.
“Yeah, his second job. He did tell you about it right?”
“The job… that…”
“Private meetings with clients. Mainly sex really.”
Your heart dropped at that, falling right into your stomach. You were staring at Steve as if he had just stabbed you with a sword, just impaling you without any kind of mercy, and the gears in your mind started working, but instead of moving forward, they went backwards. Your hands were starting to tremble, not wanting to believe what Steve was saying.
“That– Today?” You choke out, holding a sob in your throat as your knees start to give up on you. This couldn’t be happening, not right after the best night of your life, not after realizing what you felt for him, not after he said those things to you.
“Yeah, I mean, sometimes we do it for money, sometimes just for pleasure, so that’s why I don’t know when he’ll be back.” He blurts out and that’s when your world stopped.
He lied. He lied to you. He said he was going with Steve today, but Steve is too sick to even move… The call– The words you heard– You wanted to vomit, nausea washing over your stomach as the puzzle came together in your head, slowly, and when it finally clicked, when it all clicked.
And your eyes couldn’t look at Steve’s face any longer.
“O-Oh, y-yeah, he told me, I must have forgotten…” Your voice was small, your body shaking as your gaze couldn’t handle Steve’s neck, nor his chest, nor his legs, until you were entirely looking at the floor. Your body was shaking almost, and you had to run away. You had to leave. You were suffocating. You needed air.
“Do you want me to–” You didn’t even let him finish his sentence, taking a step back from him as his cologne invaded your sense of smell.
“No. He– He will make fun of my… poor memory… Um… Don’t tell him I came here, I’ll… just message him later.” Your voice became smaller and smaller at each word that came out of your lips, and Steve, poor Steve, was so out of it that he didn’t notice anything wrong.
“Okay, see you later Sweetness.” Your body almost gagged and jerked forward at the nickname, but you stayed put, still looking at the floor. Your mind was shutting down, you needed to leave.
“B-Bye.” You couldn’t even say his name as you turned around, walking back towards the elevator and pressing the button to go down, hearing the door closing before your metal doors shut together. Your eyes were still on the floor, not daring to look up as you tried, you really tried to make those last words disappear from your brain, but they were on repeat, and your body was numb.
You felt numb, automatic, going towards your car, and you don’t even remember starting it, you don’t remember how you even got to your complex, you don’t remember if you locked your car or not as you entered your apartment, your lost gaze just not centering on anything. You threw the keys on the counter, just simply dropping them somewhere as your feet slowly took you towards the bathroom.
He has a second job. He has a sex working job. And he has had it even before he met you, and he never quit it, and Steve said that he does it for pleasure sometimes. Was this one of the times? Right after last night with you? Maybe there was a mistake? Maybe that’s not what Eddie’s doing?
But he wasn’t home, and the fact was that he still has that job. He still does it because Steve said it as if it were a frequent thing. How many times have you messaged him or talked to him while he was with a client? Did he go to them after kissing you? Touching you? Sleeping with you? Were you not good? Were you not enough? Were you simple? Were you too complicated?
You took a deep breath in, trying to calm your heart, feeling it ripping at your chest, urging to come out of your body, to cry out, to yell into the sky and mourn. Your guts were twisting painfully, and you held your stomach just in case you had to turn around to empty your stomach out, because your world was spiraling all around you and it was making you dizzy.
Why didn’t he ever tell you about this job? Why wasn’t he honest with you from the very beginning? Maybe if he did you wouldn’t have fallen for him. Maybe if he did you would have been more cautious. Maybe if he did you wouldn’t feel like this, this sick, this dizzy, this broken. Why would he hide it from you?
You looked at your hands and saw that they were shaking at a very quick pace and you knew you were on the brink of a nervous breakdown, you could feel it. You held your chest as you tried to take deep breaths in and out again, trying to calm yourself down, trying to make everything make sense once again, trying to find a reasonable reason for everything, if there was any.
You turned to look at the sink, turning the faucet on and hunching downwards to finally wash your face, trying to make the cold water make you snap out of how bad your head was starting to hurt, how your throat felt like it was closing up at an alarming rate, and your oxygen felt like it was starting to run short. Your lungs were compressed inside your chest, making it slightly painful but nothing hurt more than your heart.
You straightened up with a heavy breath, a long pained huff, shakiness evident as you gripped onto the sink and finally, your eyes looked at your reflection. Every movement in your body stopped. Every tremble, every thought, every blood cell going through your veins, just everything froze as you stared at yourself… And the gears in your head started going backwards, even further, deeper, darker.
He lied to you. He lied to you. He lied to you.
You were never good enough, you were never going to compare, and somehow you always knew that, yet… He made you feel beautiful, confident in your clothes, confident in your makeup, confident in the way you spoke, in the way you expressed yourself, in the way you moved. He helped you. He helped you. Helped you.
HE SHAPED YOU.
“No…” You tried telling yourself as your body started rocking back and forth, not wanting to listen to your own brain, not wanting to hear the horrible things that it was saying about him because you were certain that he wasn’t evil. He wouldn’t do that to you, he wouldn’t do it, he didn’t seem capable of doing that. There was no evidence of him planning something like that.
But… He did say he always wanted to have you ‘like this’. Did he mean under him? Did he mean sexually? Did he mean… as if you were a conquest? A prize? You shook your head again, it couldn’t be. It couldn’t possibly be, not your Eddie, not your sweet and patient Eddie. Not the Eddie that made you feel like heaven yesterday, not the Eddie that made your life happier than it ever did before.
Yet, if he did go to that appointment with a private client today, did it mean he wanted to be with someone experienced? That he wanted to be with someone that knows what they’re doing? Someone prettier? Someone that actually makes him feel good? Someone that knows how to actually do that without asking? A regular?
HE GOT YOU. HE’S DONE.
No. No. No. It isn’t like that, it wasn’t a one time thing. It was never a one time thing. It shouldn’t have been a one time thing, you weren’t going to let your brain stain every memory you had of him, because in the end he was a great friend. A great friend who lied to you, a great friend that shaped you into what he liked, a great friend that you fell for.
You were trying to deny it, you were trying really hard, you can still talk to him, you can still ask him if it were true, but you knew it was, you knew that he was fucking other people, you knew that you weren’t special, you knew he didn’t feel the same as you did. Your mind was hazy now, dark patches blocking your eyesight as you felt the all too well burning sensation in them.
Your breathing started coming out of your mouth in huge gasps as you rocked back and forth, still looking at your reflection, looking at who you were now, looking at how different you are from before, looking at what you thought was what you actually wanted to look like… But what if it was never that? What if it was a plan all along? What if he saw it as a challenge? What if you were a challenge and he just wanted you perfect to his taste? This wasn’t you. This wasn’t you. This isn’t you.
HE MOLDED YOU.
A rough groan ripped from your throat as you pushed yourself away from the sink, tumbling out of the bathroom and rushing towards your kitchen, almost breaking a drawer out as you took your plastic bags out, your breathing heavy, angry, chest puffing out and down again, pain rushing all over your body like a sharp electric sting, hurting every place, every joint, every organ. Your feet ran towards your room as you looked all around, your eyes red from burning, your mind now in a dark cloud full of thunder.
You opened a plastic bag and rushed towards your vanity, putting your hand on the desk to start dragging every makeup product you bought for the past two months, grunts and pained whines escaping your throat as you pushed every mascara, lipstick, blush down into the bag.
You opened the drawers of it, now grabbing onto every piece of accessory you got, every little summer scarf he told you that looked good on you, every single thing he complimented you in was going into the bag. You can’t use that, you never used that, you didn’t know how to use any of this, so why keep lying, why keep being someone you are not for the sake of someone else?
You angrily pushed yourself off the vanity, making it rock back and forth and you stared now at your closet. You immediately grabbed another bag and you rushed towards it, flinging it open in a desperate move, getting hold of all the shirts he told you would look good in. All the jeans he helped you buy. All the sweaters he told you will look good on you in the winter.
Your tears were now running down your eyes as you threw each article of clothing into the bag, leaving behind your old stuff, your old shirts, your old jeans, your old pants, who you truly were, where you truly belonged. Secure, safe, and comfortable. You then flung the other side of the closet and your eyes widened when you saw all the jackets you never thought of buying before.
Everything was being taken off the hanger and thrown into a new bag, everything had to go, everything that reminded you of him had to go. Everything that smelled remotely like him, anything that held a memory of him had to go. All the skirts, one by one were being thrown into the bag, the shorts as well, and then the dresses. Things you never wore before in your life, the only time being your prom night.
You started ripping them out of your closet, throwing them all into a new bag, until you finally held onto one garment. A very specific one. You looked at it as you were about to throw it in, the purple color catching your eye as you straightened up to hold onto it with both of your hands. Tears came down your cheeks as you stared at the purple dress in your grasp.
Your first ever article of new clothing. The first time he complimented you. The first time he twirled you. The first time he took you in. The first time you felt confident in something you never wore before… And it was all fake. Everything was fake. He saw you as a hard conquest, and he got you, and even shaped you into what he wanted, making you desirable for him.
You sobbed harshly as you let your emotions finally rip from your chest, as you came down from your anger, from your thunder and all that was left was heavy rain. All that’s left is this pain in your chest of your first time feeling something you never thought you would feel, only to be ripped away seconds later. All that’s left… it’s this purple dress.
And you will still throw it into the bag.
End of part 7
A/N: I know it isn't as long as last one or the ones before, but next one is the last chapter, so... I hope I didn't hurt you all too much with this.
I hope you liked this chapter and always reblog your artists!
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Brother's Best Friend - Part 3
Jake Seresin x F!Reader
Summary: The trials and tribulations of falling for your brother's best friend.
CW: Fluff and banter
WC: 2000+
Part 1 | Part 2 | Masterlist
“Seresin!” you scream at the top of your lungs, slamming the front door with enough force to knock down the welcome sign hanging in the hall. You groan as all the keys that were hanging off its hooks clatter to the floor, together with the sign. But this incident only makes you more enraged. You stomp down the corridor with your shoes still on, bellowing, “Your bucket of bolts is blocking me in, and I need to leave right now!”
You storm into the living room just as Jake starts stretching on the couch; you see one of his arms extend upward over the upholstery.
“Seresin!” you continue to yell, rounding the corner to get a better look at him. “If you don’t move your clunker, I will kill you I swear to” – but you stop short when you witness the scene before you.
Jake Seresin slowly sits up on your couch, shirtless – most likely butt-naked but his bottom half is obscured by the Frozen-themed fleece blanket your brother got you last year for Christmas – and beside him, a sleeping woman is starting to stir. Jake blinks up at you groggily. “You told me to go on a date,” he croaks when he registers the shock on your face.
You narrow your eyes at him irritably. “I said go, not come and date in my living room!”
“I did go,” he says, starting to rise from the couch. “But then I came back.” Halfway into a standing position, Jake seems to realize that, if he continues rising, his friend will end up in the nude, so he sits back down and glances at you sheepishly. “Do you mind passing me that pillow?” he asks, pointing to the tasselled throw pillow on the second couch.
You grimace. “Please don’t tell me you had sex under my blanket,” you say with disgust as you reach for a pillow and then fling it right at Jake’s face.
Jake catches it swiftly, demonstrating impressive reflexes for someone who’s been awake for less than two minutes. “We didn’t,” he says, leaving the blanket over the woman while using the pillow to cover himself as he collects his clothes from the floor.
“Then why are you naked?” you hiss.
Jake straightens his back and gives you a rueful look. “We didn’t have sex under your blanket,” he clarifies. “We just used it after, because we were cold.”
You roll your eyes and shake your head. “I don’t care!” you snap, even though you absolutely do care and seeing Jake with a random naked chick feels like someone’s taken a sledgehammer to your gut. “Just get dressed and move your damn car, I have to be in class in less than ten minutes!” You glance down at your watch and let out an anxious whine.
Within seconds, Jake has his jeans on and is pulling a t-shirt over his magnificent six-pack. You try your best not to stare and instead find yourself studying the woman who has miraculously been able to sleep through your entire conversation. “Let’s go,” Jake says, walking past you toward the front door.
You release a heavy sigh and start after him. In the foyer, Jake eyes the fallen welcome sign with all the keys still strewn on the floor and then lifts his gaze to look at you pointedly. You make a face at him, and he gives you a small smile before bending down to pick up his car keys.
“It’s a fifteen-minute drive,” he states, slipping on his shoes.
You give him an aggravated look. “You think I don’t know that?”
He opens the door for you, but you shove him through it instead and then jog down to the driveway. When you look back, you see that Jake is still on the porch, his back turned to you as he fiddles with the doorknob.
“Seresin, are you kidding me?” you shout. “If you don’t move this trash heap in the next minute, I will drive through it!”
Jake whistles patronizingly as he skips down the steps toward you. “Simmer down, cupcake,” he says. “I was locking the door.”
You seethe at the nickname as he approaches you with a wide grin. “I will slap you,” you warn.
Jake chuckles, sticking his key into the passenger door to unlock it. “What if I like it?”
You smack him on the shoulder as he opens the door for you. “What are you doing?” you shriek, looking at his dilapidated vehicle in disgust. “Can you please just move this rust bucket so that I can get to class and hand in my paper?”
“Get in!” Jake urges, pressing a hand into your shoulder to force you into the seat. “I’m driving you.”
“I don’t need you to drive me!” you retort, rising back to your feet. “I just need you to get this piece of junk off my driveway” –
“I’m not letting you drive like this,” he says resolutely.
“Like what?” you ask in outrage.
Jake lifts his hands to indicate at your current state and gives you a look. “You’re very stressed out,” he remarks.
You glare at him in disbelief. “Because you are stressing me out!” you scream.
“Be that as it may,” he says calmly, “it’s a fifteen-minute drive, sweet cheeks.” He meets your gaze defiantly and pushes you back down into the seat. “And you need to be there in five.”
You blink up at him crossly but stay put this time.
“Now, you can’t get there in five minutes,” he continues, yanking on the seat belt behind your head and putting into your hand. “But I can.” And, with these words, he slams your door and heads around the front of the car. When he gets in and turns over the engine, he glances at you with a grin. “So, out of curiosity,” he says, “how many nicknames do you have for my car?”
You give him a steely look as he backs out of the driveway. “How many nicknames do you have for me?”
Jake chuckles, releasing the clutch and shifting into second gear, but he doesn’t respond.
You watch him navigate expertly through traffic to get you to your destination, deciding not to press him on the bizarre moment the two of you shared yesterday evening before he finally left you alone. The one that ended with him telling you that he wishes he were your idiot with absolutely no elaboration. Of course, seeing him this morning with a brand-new companion has made you feel like the ultimate idiot in this scenario.
Jake pulls right up to one of the side doors of the building and you unbuckle your seatbelt with lightning speed. “Thanks, Seresin,” you say, climbing out of the car.
“Anytime, peach,” he says, leaning forward to wink up at you before you shut your door.
You roll your eyes. “I’m telling Bradley you had sex on our couch,” you say and then slam the door in his face.
You can see him throw his arms up in protest and reach over to roll down the passenger side window. “Who do you think told me to stay over after insisting I do shots with him?” he yells after you.
You shake your head as you lean into the revolving door of the building. “I’m unimpressed,” you call back.
Jake grins. “So, pretty normal, then?”
…
Your class ends in two hours and you realize that, since you didn’t drive, you’d have to take the bus home. Except, when you walk out of the lecture hall, you see Jake sitting on the ground, his back leaning against a pillar, waiting for you.
“What are you still doing here?” you ask, approaching him cautiously.
Jake rises to his feet and holds his hand out for your bookbag. When you don’t readily give it to him, he slides it off your shoulder and pulls it over his. “You need a ride home, don’t you?”
You stare at him in disbelief. “I could’ve taken the bus, Jake. You didn’t have to come all the way back.”
“I didn’t,” he says. “I never left.”
You furrow your eyebrows. “You’ve been sitting here for two hours?”
Jake shrugs. “Took a walk around campus.”
“What about your friend whom you left naked in my house?”
Jake’s eyes widen. “Oh, shit,” he says.
Your jaw drops as you continue to gape at him. “Are you serious?”
Jake cringes. “I’m an idiot.”
“Oh my god, Seresin,” you say, rubbing your forehead in shock. “I have no words.”
Jake nods, then shrugs again. “Maybe she left,” he says hopefully.
You look up at him as the two of you start walking. “It was a memorable night, then,” you comment sarcastically.
Jake chuckles. “Uh, kind of,” he says. “Not that part, though.”
You glance at him questioningly. “Why, what else happened?”
Jake eyes you hesitantly then promptly looks away. “Never mind.”
You stop walking and Jake, who takes another couple of steps before doubling back, blinks at you expectantly. Your eyes meet as the two of stand in the middle of the busy hallway and you feel your heartbeat quicken. You’re wondering, of course, if he’s referring to the incident that you’ve since decided to dismiss as a slip of the tongue.
Jake sighs impatiently. “We should get back,” he says, his eyes still sweeping over your face.
You swallow uncomfortably and give him a tight smile; clearly he isn’t planning on sharing the part of the evening that was memorable for him. You start to walk again, but Jake takes you by the wrist before you reach the door. You glance back at him as he pulls you toward himself. He isn’t looking at you, however. He nods at something behind you, and you turn to see an AV equipment cart barrelling your way, the person pushing the cart effectively hidden behind a stack of projectors. Jake curls his arm around your stomach, pinning your back to his chest as the cart zooms by.
Meanwhile, your knees nearly give out from the heat of his touch. You look down at the arm still wrapped tightly around your abdomen, holding your breath lest you start hyperventilating. “You alright there, darlin’?” he asks casually as his hand slips away from your waist.
“That was a close call,” you manage to say, turning to face him dazedly.
“Good thing I was here,” he says with a smirk.
You give him a stern look, his smugness having brought you out of your temporary trance. “If you weren’t here, I wouldn’t be distracted.”
Jake grins cheekily. “Am I distracting you again?”
You roll your eyes, recognizing that he’s referencing yesterday’s conversation. “You’re insufferable,” you say.
Jake raises his eyebrows. “I might actually prefer it when you insult me rather than my car,” he says as the two of you make your way outside.
“Don’t you worry,” you respond. “I have plenty of insults for the both of you.”
Jake puts his arm around your shoulders when you shiver slightly in your tank top. You try to keep your cool as you walk together toward the parking lot, sinking slightly into his side when the wind picks up as you’re crossing the field. Jake runs his hand up and down your arm to warm you and, in response, a tornado of butterflies, materializing out of nowhere, suddenly swells so violently inside of you that it feels like their collective flying power might lift you right off the ground as you walk.
It’s nice when Jake takes care of you, even though you know he’s only doing it because you’re his best friend’s little sister and he feels some sort of weird obligation to protect you. You wonder if perhaps that’s why you’ve always liked him – because he’s always been there for you, despite being supremely annoying most of the time. His broad shoulders don’t hurt either.
When you reach the car, Jake pulls open your door for you and motions for you to get inside.
“I can get my own door, you know?” you tell him, even though you kind of like it when he does it for you.
Jake gives you an offended look. “Never in my life have I not opened a door for a lady,” he says.
You climb into the vehicle, wondering if you should be pleased to be grouped together with all the ladies in Jake’s life, or discouraged that he’s such a ladies’ man. “Ever the gentleman,” you comment. “Don’t forget the part where you sleep with them and then desert them for hours to fend for themselves at a stranger’s house.”
Jake leans down to peer at you as you buckle your seatbelt. He puts a hand over his chest and frowns playfully. “That hurt,” he says.
You smile at him cheerily. “Suck it up, buttercup.”
Jake grins. “Buttercup,” he says, straightening his back and tapping the hood of the car a couple of times. “I like it.” Then, he shuts your door.
Read Part 4
A/N: Thanks for reading, you guys! These two are so fun to write about, let me know if you want more of them :D Also, if you have prompts for these two in particular, send them my way!
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OMG PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE I need more könig w the sweet little kitty🥹 she's just so soft and sweet, she's probably a silly little orange kitty!
A natural trouble maker and always getting herself into situations she needs könig's help to get out of! Thanking him by catching him a little birdy or mouse only for him to tell her to "drop it freches kleines kätzchen!" (naughty little kitten I believe)
I'm so here for cod men and their hybrids
grrr i am too <3 they're just so cute to write with the brattiest babes </3. and i think reader is the mix of a sweet good girl and a little shit >:) // not proofread
part 1. // part 2.
— Slivers of the sun had creeped in through the windows; König, being a trained soldier, was already wide awake, eyes locked to the ceiling as he relaxed himself. He could feel a soft and subtle weight on his belly and if he glanced down just enough he would see his pretty little kätzchen curled in his side.
Your ears flickered at the adjustment of his breathing, which he welcomed with gentle rubs. Your pretty little motorboat purrs filling the silence of the room.
Things with you were warmer. He had noticed it almost immediately; the warmth that filled in him. He no longer felt a heavy weight in his head as you mewled and crooned for his warmth.
Bratty little baby you were, always making biscuits on his muscles chest or abs, your tail swishing and ears going airplane. You'd try to scent him as much as possible, clearly utterly enamoured with your Colonel of an owner.
Just the night before you had gifted him a dead bird, eyes big and wide as he scolded you. Something about diseases and how dirty they were, you never really did listen to a thing he said when you were in trouble.
König smiled at the thought, his dumb little kitten. A hand reached out, rubbing the pretty collar he had gotten you. It was a pretty baby blue collar to match his eyes, the name tag silver with his number on the back.
The moment he touched your flesh a little chirp, eyes fluttering open with pupils dilated to a pin prick small amount. "Ohhh, kätzchen, you're sooo scary."
König crooned to his pretty kitten who made an effort to show off her well groomed fur and hair. Such a pretty thing like you; always pampering yourself.
"Mrowww?" You mewled softly, butting your head into his jaw.
König chuckled softly, tilting his head back so your face could rest at his adam's apple. Feral little purrs emitting as he rubbed that sweet part above your tail. Your soft mewls as you wiggled and kneaded the pillow behind him.
Moments like this were the most peaceful ones with you. However it was without a doubt that a few hours later you would create chaos. It wasn't clear when you had broken into his houae - however several items were broken or scattered in several of the rooms. You would also get tangled in everything. Christmas lights, cables, blankets. Didn't even know how to help yourself, just pathetically mewling wherever you were trapped.
And when he freed you it was a soft purr before you elegantly strutted away. The worst was when he made fish, your bitchy mrowls for just one piece. Butting your forehead into his back or side, doing your best to show him how cute you can be for just one piece of fish.
Eventually König would fold and give you your own little plate of fish, which you would consume at a greedy rate. Side eyeing him suspiciously like he planned to take it for you.
Despite all that trouble, you were certainly special. He knew that the first time you stayed. He was still on the fence at keeping you, not allowing you on the bed with him, or even in his room. The sleep was always the hardest the first night off leave. A man who used to fall asleep to gunshots and screams, somehow was terrified at the sound of silence.
It made his chest clench and squeeze, throbbing in an aching heartbeat. Just as he was about to give up and go back out, he heard the door creak open. Could hear your little symphony of purrs as you approach the bed and laid across his body lile a weighted blanket.
The squeeze in his chest subsided, a single hand coming to rub at the fluttering little ears on your head.
"..Danke, kätzchen"
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You Missed My Heart: PART 2
PART 1 LINK | PART 2 LINK | PART 3 LINK
Description: Miguel had died months ago. At least, my universe’s Miguel had died. Maybe I should have noticed when I could feel him touching me in my dreams, but grief is a hell of a thing. That is, until I woke up in a house that looked just like mine, but somehow different.
Miguel had taken me from my universe and put me in one where he could relive his past, whether I liked it or not.
Word Count: 11,305
Author’s Note: I swear I re-wrote this three different times and all of them were drastically different. I checked for typos, but I’m posting this at four in the morning so there may be a few.
Content Warning: smut, mild breeding kink, reader is being held against their will, dub-con (if you squint), piv, oral, unprotected sex; Miguel gets injured at one point; Miguel being manipulative and an ass, bit of angst (I mean his wife and child are dead so yeah)
Minors DNI! Story is below the cut
I groaned as I opened my eyes. My face was pressed in the crook between where Miguel’s ribs and arms would normally meet. He had moved me there in the middle of the night when I had managed to drift too far away from him. I had tried to squirm and protest, but I ended up caving before he would let go. I knew he was stubborn enough to pin me there out of spite and it wasn’t worth it.
Miguel was still awake somehow. It was dark in the room, save for the faint light that drifted through the curtains. Whatever time it was, it was either too late or too early for him to be up.
“Go back to sleep.” Miguel said. His voice was stern but gentle. I slid my hands down and grabbed onto the edge of the blanket. I hauled it upward, pulling it over my head. He let out a low chuckle as he watched me try to disappear.
“What time is it?” I asked.
“Just after three.” He leaned down and pressed a quick peck against the blanket that covered the top of my head. “Get some sleep.”
I glanced up at the gap between his chest and the blanket. Moonlight streamed through the window, painting his features in soft lines and shadows. He looked angelic. He was focusing on something in front of him, frowning and furrowing his eyebrows every so often.
What was he doing?
I gently pulled down the blanket so that I could see what he was up to.
Miguel was propped up on a pillow that leaned against the headboard. His eyes were focused on his hands, which were held out in front of him, spaced apart by about six inches, palm facing palm. Threads glistened between his fingers in the moonlight. His fingers were twisting and weaving new threads around the ones that lay between his fingers. The thin webs had been pulled from his spinnerets in his upper wrists. It was like watching someone play cat’s cradle.
One of his arms rested on my back. It didn’t hurt; it wasn’t even uncomfortable, but it did hold me in place, only allowing me the bare minimum of space for my chest to move as I breathed.
“You should go to sleep, too.” I said. I turned my head back and buried my face in his chest. He smiled, continuing to work.
“I’m not tired.”
I glanced up at him. His dark eyes were beautiful like this. His face looked peaceful. I was too tired to see if he was lying or not.
“Have you gotten any sleep yet? Any at all?” I asked. He shook his head.
“I’ll be alright. Just close your eyes.”
I nodded, too tired to argue with him. I started to say something, but the words slurred together until I fell silent. Sleep pulled me in, welcoming me warmly.
“I know, sweetheart.” He whispered, never faltering in his work.
Something clattered to the floor downstairs, ripping me from my dream.
I winced, feeling the sun burn my eyes as it streamed in through the window. I tried to push myself upward, but I was overtaken with a dull ache in all of my muscles.
Fucking hell.
It felt like I had been in a car crash. Every part of my body hurt. But, the most noticeable ache was between my legs. I swallowed hard as I pushed myself upward. I needed aspirin.
As I moved, I couldn’t help but notice a divot in the bed on Miguel’s side. It was lined with sheets that had been ripped through. The hole was a decent size; roughly the size of a fist and a couple of inches deep.
It hadn’t been there last night. At least, I hadn’t seen it there.
I slid my right hand over to touch the edges of the divot. It was the perfect size to accommodate Miguel’s hand. But why was it there?
I winced, feeling a sharp pain shoot through my body. If he was in a decent mood, I could ask him about it. If not, it didn’t really matter.
I leaned over and grabbed the bottle of aspirin. As I moved, a faint twinkle caught my eye. I flipped my hand over. In the middle of the night, Miguel had slipped something around my ring finger. It was a thin band that had been braided from webbing and then tied off on the front of my finger with a small knot.
Huh.
I tapped my thumb against the material, expecting it to stick to my finger in the same way that the web had stuck to my ankle last night. But this one didn’t. It had been worn smooth by his fingertips. The material looked almost silver in the early morning light. When I pulled my hand into the shadows, it looked almost like braided moonstone.
I wasn’t sure whether to feel violated by the fact that he had placed a wedding ring on me in the middle of the night, or impressed by the precision it had taken to make it.
I turned my hand back and forth, inspecting the thing from all angles. If I had known him for any meaningful amount of time, it would have been a sweet and loving gesture.
I groaned. It was a gift from the man who had basically kidnapped me from my home, but still, I needed to take whatever nice gestures I could get, no matter how presumptuous.
I unscrewed the cap and dropped several pills into the palm of my hand. I pushed the first pill into my mouth. As I went to swallow, I couldn’t help but notice the faint numbness that lingered on my bottom lip. It was in the exact spot that his fangs had nipped, either on purpose or mistake.
That’s… weird.
I swallowed the pill and then leaned down to touch my thighs. Bright red marks covered my legs, showing off his handy-work. I quickly slid my fingers along the skin… only to meet the same result.
The skin was numb. It was almost impossible to move the half centimeters of flesh that had been ever so gently nicked. He hadn’t bit me; not really. Just a graze was enough to do that.
Jesus.
I winced as I downed the second pill. Then I pushed myself up from the bed and made my way to the dresser. I needed something to wear. But, I wasn’t wearing more lingerie. It already hurt to walk; I needed time to heal before I wore anything close to that again. I sighed as I stepped across the room, looking for something to wear. Miguel had laid his sweatshirt from last night on the dresser. I was sure that he had left it for me after my complaint last night.
Maybe it was a peace offering. Or maybe the sex had been the peace offering and this was just him being nice.
I quickly pulled it on. It was long enough to cover my hips and a good part of my thighs. I quickly snagged a pair of underwear from the dresser and pulled them on, as well.
Downstairs, something else clattered to the floor. What the hell was he doing?
As I stepped into the hallway, I noticed the boxes that had been piled up outside of the yellow door. I flipped open one of the cardboard tabs. Inside lay my things. At the bottom of the box, I noticed the sleeve of one of my sweaters. He had brought me my things, just as he had said he would. Did he ever go to sleep last night?
I padded down the stairs, making my way to the kitchen with every step. I figured that that was where he was. He didn’t seem like the kind to just linger around the house, looking for some kind of mindless activity to fill his time. He seemed too serious for that.
I stepped into the kitchen and was immediately greeted by an unexpected sight. He was standing in front of the stove, pushing around eggs in a skillet. The downstairs was cold from the winter air but he was still wearing only a thin t-shirt and a pair of boxers.
He was a portrait of domesticity.
I watched him closely as I stepped into the room.
“I made breakfast.” He said.
“Did you get any sleep?” I asked. I couldn’t help but notice that the shattered plate had been picked out of the sink and had been thrown into the trash. He turned to meet my gaze. The dark circles under his eyes told me everything that I needed to know.
“Miguel, you need to go back to bed.”
“I’ll be fine.” He frowned as he pushed the spatula around in the skillet. “I made coffee.”
“Thank you.” I made my way toward the coffee pot that rested on the counter beside him. As I did, his eyes never left the stove. I reached for one of the coffee cups that had been laid out for me. As I did, I glanced back at Miguel. God, he looked tired. “Do you always have trouble sleeping?” I asked.
He scoffed. “I sleep perfectly fine.”
“Okay then.” I muttered. Guess that was a touchy subject for him. I rolled my eyes as I grabbed the coffee pot. I filled the mug with the dark liquid. As I leaned forward to slide it back into its original spot, Miguel stepped to the side and pulled open the door to the fridge. Without missing a beat, he pulled out a container of creamer and handed it to me, then slinked back to the stove before the eggs had the chance to begin to brown.
“Thank you.” I said. Warm light from the kitchen caught the ring, making it twinkle again. I considered asking him about it, but I decided not to. Surely he would bring it up if it was something that he wanted to talk about.
A dark strand of hair fell across his forehead as he focused on the skillet. “Do you need any help?” I asked.
He quickly shook his head. “What’s on your mind?” I wanted to get even a scrap of conversation from him; I needed some idea as to what he was thinking about. Maybe I should just leave him alone. Maybe he liked to exist in silence. I mean, if nothing else, he seemed used to it.
“Work. How did you sleep?” He asked.
“Okay, I guess.” I added the creamer to my coffee and then returned the container to the spot where he had pulled it from. I carried my mug back to the counter, watching as he lifted the skillet off of the stovetop. I lifted the mug to my lips but then suddenly jerked it back. The glass was hot; it burned the skin of my lower lip everywhere except for the small spot in the center of my mouth.
“Fuck!” I touched the skin and was met with a familiar numbness.
Miguel dropped the skillet onto the stove and rushed forward. Within seconds he had cleared the area between the stove and the counter, moving so that he was standing directly in front of me. He towered over me, wasting no time to invade my personal space. “Sorry, I’m fine.” I said. I brushed my fingers along my lip, grazing the burned flesh and then the numbed skin. It felt weird and I didn’t like it.
“Okay, sweetheart. Let me see.”
“It’s fine. I just burned myself.” He shook his head before reaching down and gently grabbing onto my chin. He pulled my head upward. My eyes met his for a moment before he turned his attention down to the mark on my mouth.
“Move your hand.” He instructed. I did as I was told and dropped my hand down to the cold stone of the counter.
“Miguel, I’m fine. I promise.” He didn’t believe me; I could tell from the deep line that had formed between his eyebrows.
“Open wide.” He instructed. His thumb slid across my lower lip. The touch was feather-light; almost too gentle, too caring.
“Your face is red.” He remarked.
“This is demeaning.” The words slurred together as he inspected my mouth.
“Is your lip numb?” His perfected vision could see the minute scrapes against my skin; tiny cuts that had been collateral damage in the excitement of the previous night.
“A little bit.” He winced, but quickly fixed his expression before I could comment on it.
“It should wear off in a couple of hours. You weren’t actually bit so the effects shouldn’t be too bad. Just be careful not to hurt yourself.” He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of my head.
“What if you had bitten me?” I asked. He released my jaw from his hold.
“That’s not something you need to worry about.”
“But if it had… let’s say I’m someone else and you bit me, what would happen.” His face twitched. Something flickered behind his eyes as if he was considering it. His eyes didn’t leave my face.
“That’s not… no.”
“Miguel, it’s a basic question. I barely know anything about you. If you’re planning on keeping me here, then I want to know-” he cut me off.
“And I said no. Damn it, why isn’t that enough for you? What are you wanting from me?” His voice was sharp and cold, like metal. Suddenly, the device on his wrist let out a low chirp. He glanced downward.
He gave a low sigh. “I’ll get you a plate. You didn’t eat anything last night.” He turned and quickly began to mess with the thing on his wrist.
I glanced down at the counter. A chorus of beeps came from his wrist as he worked. I gently slid my teeth against my bottom lip; the numbness was strangely fascinating.
Without a word, Miguel sat the plate down in front of me. Steam drifted off the fresh eggs that covered the plate.
“Thank you.” He didn’t answer me. His eyes lingered on my face for a long moment before he leaned back against the countertop.
He rolled his hand around his wrist, moving his eyes between me and the device. “I have work to do today. But I restocked the fridge so there’s plenty for you to eat. Feel free to help yourself to anything you like. The TV in the living room works, as does the stereo. Most of your books should be upstairs, so you should have plenty to occupy your time.”
“Thank you.” I said. I stabbed a bright yellow piece of egg with my fork. “How long are you going to be gone?” I asked.
“Are you going to miss me?” He paused, waiting for a response. I nodded, partly because I knew it was the right answer and partly because I thought I would, even if just a little bit. He smiled, proud of my answer. “It shouldn’t be too long. Just a couple of things to correct, then I’ll be right back.” There was something about the way that he said the word ‘correct’ that made me wince. He meant kill; I thought of the blood on his face and knew what he meant when he said he fixed things.
“Is there anything you think you’re going to do today?” Miguel asked. He wanted to know my plans for the day. Well, gee, Miguel, I’ll probably stay trapped here.
Then something occurred to me. I was the only person here and I knew more of what was going on now. There was no reason I shouldn’t be allowed to explore.
“Can I leave the house?” I asked.
“And where would you go?” It seemed ridiculous to him to even ask. Why would I ever want to leave when I could sit in an empty house all by myself and pretend I wasn’t his prisoner?
“Out.” I said. “Maybe walk around the block. Is there another block or does it stop after what I can see from the front stoop?”
“There’s other blocks. But I don’t understand why you would want to leave the house.”
“Fucking hell, Miguel.” I hadn’t meant to say it out loud. I turned my attention to the plate. He ground his teeth together for a moment. He was choosing to ignore what I had said.
“If you need something to occupy your time when I’m gone, I’ll get you a pet.” That doesn’t replace the fact that I wanted to leave the house. I wanted to pretend that my life was normal, even if there was nobody in Nueva York anymore. I could still act as if things hadn’t changed.
“Ah, a pet for your pet. Doesn’t that seem a bit redundant?” I muttered. That jab had been entirely intentional.
It was true, though. I was a pet to him; maybe I received different forms of affection than the standard house cat, but the same rules seemed to apply. He would come and go as he needed; I was to stay where I had been placed, always ready and willing to entertain when he came back.
He rolled his eyes as he leaned against the counter. He continued to poke at the device on his wrist. “I’m ignoring you.” I rolled my eyes as I continued to eat.
“It isn’t fair to lock me inside of a house and never let me leave. You ever heard of cabin fever? I’m going to end up going insane in here.”
“I highly doubt that.” His hair bounced as he spoke. He was shaking his head at me while he messed with his device.
“Miguel.”
“You’ll be fine.” He said it like it was the end of the discussion. Hell, it wasn’t even a discussion; he just kept saying no.
“Come on!”
“Is there something you’re wanting to say to me?” His tone was harsh.
“Yeah, you’re really pissing me off.”
“You’ll get over it. You always do.”
“Just tell me why. If you think I’m going to run away then where would I even go? There’s nothing out there. So why?”
“It’s for your own good. Just stay in the damn house.” I rolled my eyes as I took a sip of the cooled coffee.
“You never fucking tell me anything and then you get pissy when I ask questions.”
“I am not being pissy.” He shook his head and muttered something under his breath. There was a long moment of silence between us.
“Don’t call me pissy.” He muttered. He sounded more annoyed than actually angry. He almost sounded like an annoyed child. I had to fight back a laugh at how petulant he sounded.
A weird silence hung in the air. I began to eat, ignoring how he fixed his eyes on me. Though, any time I would look up to catch his stare, he would glance back down and fiddle with his wrist.
"I really do believe that you could start to like it here. I think you just need time. Then, you'll start to warm up to me."
He brushed his hair off of his forehead and let out a low sigh. "You do love me. You just need time." He said the first part for me. He repeated the second part for himself.
I did love him, at least a little bit. Even if just for the fact that he looked so much like another version of himself; a sweeter version… a softer one.
Maybe he was capable of being that way. Or, maybe he was too far gone.
His eyes moved upward to meet mine and I felt a sudden wave of shame wash over me.
"You look beautiful this morning." He said.
“Miguel,” I asked. His features softened at the sound of his name. “Is there any chance that I’ll ever get to go home?”
He winced. “If you go back to your timeline, one of two things could happen. Either time will find a way to correct itself and you will die or everything will collapse in on itself. If that happened, it would kill every single person you’ve ever known and billions more.” A bright light shone from his wrist.
It was time for him to go.
He let out a low sigh. “I don’t…” His voice trailed off. He looked down at the ground for a moment. “I can’t send you back to die. I won’t.”
I guess that was my answer.
He stepped toward me. His face had softened. “I want you to be happy and safe. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” I didn’t reply. He moved closer, stopping only once our bodies were almost touching.
I looked at him, unsure of what he wanted. He leaned down, placing a finger under my chin. It was the gentlest touch he could manage, yet it was backed with unfathomable strength. He lifted my chin up to meet his gaze.
“I love you. I’ll be back as soon as possible. Be a good girl for me. Okay?” I nodded. He pushed a quick peck against my lips before he walked off, heading toward the archway that connected the kitchen to the living room. Once he vanished from sight, I heard him begin to speak into his device.
A pink and orange light enveloped the living room; it was so bright that I winced. The light vanished as suddenly as it had appeared.
Then, just like that, he was gone.
I sighed to myself. Well, no time like the present.
I pushed myself up, grabbed my coffee mug, and headed upstairs.
He would be gone for hours. There was no harm in exploring, especially since he wasn’t here to stop me. If he didn’t want to tell me anything, then I would have to find it out for myself. After all, curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.
I stared at the yellow door upstairs. Not knowing what was inside was going to eat me alive. I knew it wasn’t an office; Miguel didn’t stay here long enough to do anything but drag me around and then try his idea of a romantic gesture. Maybe it was a storage room, but even then he was entirely too cagey about the whole thing. He didn’t strike me as the kind of person to have some kind of mindless hobby.
Maybe he was living out the story of Bluebeard and there was something macabre inside. Maybe there was something perverse inside.
It didn’t matter; I had to know.
I pushed several of the boxes out of the way. I slid them several feet to the left. I could just move them back when I was done and he would never know. Stepping forward, I reached out and grabbed the door handle. Then, I gave a firm twist.
It was locked.
Damn it.
Who the hell did he think he was, anyway? He’s the one who locked me up. He’s the one who said I couldn’t leave the house. He’s the one that did all of this in the first place.
I couldn’t help but notice that the locks on my door and this door were different. This door was aimed at keeping other people out of the space; mine was aimed at locking me inside, like a princess in a tower.
I needed some way to get the door open. I was sure that I would understand this all a little better if I could just figure out why he was so determined to keep this a secret from me.
Then, I remembered my Miguel fighting with the floorboard in our bedroom. Before he embarked on his noble mission to defeat the squeaking sound, he had bought a case of beer and a new set of screwdrivers. If this version of him was so determined to make a perfect copy of my house, then he would have added the set.
I dashed to the hall closet and quickly pulled out the black plastic case that rested on the bottom shelf. Bingo! I plucked the screwdriver from the box and then walked over to the yellow door. I knew that with the old style of lock, I just needed to get the metal inside of the keyhole to move. If it moved, then the door would pop open with no issue.
I slotted the screwdriver into place and then twisted hard. At first, it didn’t even flinch. Then, after a moment, the lock groaned and then popped open. I quickly twisted the brass door handle and smiled as the door opened. I pushed the door open wide and then flipped the lightswitch.
What the fuck?
The room was small. Every wall had been painted a soft yellow; it was a step up from the stark white that the original room had been. A small stuffed elephant lay in the middle of a crib that was pushed against the far wall. A framed ultrasound sat on the bookshelf. Little pieces of a life; of hopes and memories, all packed away to be forgotten.
None of this was from my timeline. In my universe, this was just his office. It was where Miguel would disappear to for most of the night after returning from work. After he died, I locked the door and pretended the room didn’t exist. When the men from Alchemax showed up to take the cardboard boxes filled with his work, I didn’t even have the courage to peek inside of the room. The room was the black hole in the house, eating away at any chance of sleep or happiness that I had.
At least that was something this Miguel and I seemed to share.
I stepped into the small room, moving toward the bookshelf that rested against the far wall. The shelf was the only thing that looked familiar.
A box rested on the bottom shelf. I quickly dipped down and pulled it free. I flipped the lid and discarded it onto the floor in front of me. The box was filled with small photos. Some were older than others, each faded and weathered to different degrees. I sunk down to the floor. I moved so that I was sitting criss cross.
I reached inside of the box and pulled out one of the photos. The picture was weathered, but I could still make out a version of me staring up at him with an adoring gaze. She wore a wedding dress and he wore a suit.
Jesus.
I sat the photo on the floor beside me and then reached into the box and fished out a small handful. I started to sift through them, viewing little pieces of Miguel’s life as I went. When I reached the last three photos, I stopped. They were pictures of Miguel holding a little girl. She was small and perfect, with his eyes and his smile.
His child.
I winced as I looked at the pictures. The last photo was of Miguel and I standing behind her. She was sitting in a small plastic highchair with a cake in front of her. On it, there was a glowing candle in the shape of a ‘1’. Miguel’s mouth was open in the process of saying something as I laughed. It was a moment that was frozen, giving him a small slice of time to keep when it all disappeared.
Fucking hell. I leaned forward and put the pictures back in the box. I didn’t want to look at this anymore. I felt my stomach flip as a wave of nausea overtook me.
However, as I leaned over, I spotted several more photos in the bottom of the box. But, I did know these pictures. I just hadn’t known that they had been taken. In two of the pictures, I was inside of the bookstore that I had worked at. They were pictures of me, taken in my universe. But, when did he take them? After my version of him died, I didn’t go back to work. I was lucky if I left bed most days. So these pictures were older than that.
Suddenly, I became aware of the footfalls that came from the stairs.
Miguel was home entirely too early.
And I was still in the nursery. My head was still spinning from the pictures. I tried to make myself get up and frantically put the pictures back, but I couldn’t make my body move.
I heard him begin to make his way toward the bedroom. But, when he saw that the yellow door had been opened, he picked up his pace.
I didn’t look back at him when he stepped into the doorway.
I didn’t want to meet his gaze.
“You’re not supposed to be in here.” His voice was lined with rage. I stared at the wall. I could hear him swearing under his breath, his tone flickering between pissed to sad and then back again. I glanced back to look at him for a moment. His face was tight and his eyes burned red.
“This was your office… I’m sorry, his office.” I lifted my hand upward to point at the wall with the small window. The window had been decorated with pink curtains. “His desk was against that wall.” I glanced to the side of the room and then pointed at the left wall. “He kept all of his boxes against the wall. I only ever went inside of the office once and that was when I heard him and my dad arguing about something. But I never… I never found out what it was.” The screaming had happened two days before Miguel died and I couldn’t help but wonder if the two things had been connected.
“I just wanted to know what was in here. That’s all.” I said. "Are you planning on locking me in my room again?" I asked.
"No."
The man stood in the doorway, lingering like a ghost. His features softened as he watched me. He walked deeper into the room, moving so that he was standing over me. He sat down on the floor beside me. His large frame was only a foot away from me; close enough to touch, but not so close as to scare me. As he sat there, I was once again reminded of how his body had always dwarfed mine. His body was large enough to provide me with either the utmost care or utmost cruelty, depending on which Miguel I got.
“You had a child?” I asked.
He winced. “I did.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” My voice was little more than a whisper.
“No.” It was a sore spot for him. It was then that I noticed that he was focusing on the far wall, unable to meet my eyes.
I was also a sore spot for him.
I looked down at the floor as he began to speak again.
“All I’ve ever wanted is to keep you safe.” He said. His face twitched. His eyes began to fade from red to brown. He was reliving all of his failures, past and present.
“I understand.” I said. He let out a dry laugh.
“But you don’t. You really fucking don’t. Do you know what it’s like to watch you die in every timeline? Every universe? Either before or after me, there you go. Either you burn to death or are crushed or get killed in a car crash or die in some freak fucking accident… and I’ve had to sit and watch.”
He shook his head. Several dark strands of hair fell across his face. “I’m not a good man. I’ve done… horrible things.” I flinched at his words. I couldn’t tell if it was self awareness or just simple self hatred. “I just wanted a part of you that was entirely mine. A piece of you that I can love and… keep.”
He said the last part so casually. It was as if it was all just a part of the daily dysfunction of a man with a savior complex and the full power to act upon it. He had everything a man or god could ever want, except for the power of self control.
What he had done was unfathomably wrong, but the smallest part of me could understand it. The only real difference between us was that he actually could do something about it; when I lost everything, I could only lay in bed and cry.
However, there wasn’t enough money in any timeline to make me admit that to him. Telling him I understood his actions would only feed into the delusion that this was right… that this was inherently good.
I nodded slowly as I took in his words. He leaned back against his arms. He pushed his hands against the hardwood as he looked around the room, as if reliving a memory. His face was crestfallen.
My fingers brushed his. He flinched, but then gave into the touch. I slid my fingers on top of his, pinning his hand between my skin and the cold hardwood. He sat still for a moment, taking in the small crumb of affection. Then, he lifted his pinky, moving it so that it slipped on top of my ring finger.
He glanced down at our hands. His eyes became fixed on the small ring; he was entranced at the fact that I hadn’t taken it off yet.
Miguel opened his mouth to say something, but he quickly changed his mind. He closed his mouth, allowing for the silence to overwhelm us.
We were both kind of pathetic. But, I felt especially so at how I still wanted some kind of closeness with him.
I didn't want to be alone, even if the only option was with the crazy man.
I glanced up. My eyes met his.
I leaned forward, moving so that my face was only inches away from his. The room was cold and I was sure that he could see the hard goosebumps that had formed on my skin. His eyes danced over my face before drifting down to my lips. He looked like he wanted to tell me something, but it was as if it was stuck. Whatever words he wanted to say wouldn't come out.
I filled the last inches of space between us. Slowly, I pressed my lips against his. Our lips moulded together, fitting like puzzle pieces. He let out a low groan.
He pulled his lips away from me, giving me a chance to catch my breath.
He lay his forehead against mine. Then he whispered something that was so faint, I couldn’t hear most of it. But, I could have sworn that the last words were a soft "I’m sorry."
The next few weeks, we existed as ghosts. He barely spoke to me. On the rare occasion that he was home during the daytime, I would often catch him staring at me with a weird mixture of adoration and sadness. He was gone until late most nights. I had taken to crawling onto the couch and falling asleep there most nights. The house was too empty; too quiet. He wouldn’t come back until late and would then, without fail, haul me back to the bedroom. I would awaken every morning to a cup of coffee on the bedside table. He would squeeze my shoulder gently, though he was always gone by the time I opened my eyes.
My head lay against one of the pillows that I had dragged downstairs from the bed. I sighed as I turned over. The couch wasn’t uncomfortable, it was just weird to try and sleep when there was no noise coming from outside. I had gotten so used to the sounds of the city lulling me to sleep. Now, I would toss and turn for hours until I would turn on the TV for some noise.
I pulled one of the blankets higher up on my body. The house was freezing. I glanced up at the clock on the wall.
Just after two.
Where was he? He usually came back around one or so. He was late. Time was ticking on and he was nowhere to be found.
Damn it. I winced, realizing that I was actually worried about him.
Suddenly, a bright light filled the first floor. I jerked upright, turning toward the kitchen. “Miguel?” I asked. I quickly pushed myself up from the couch and made my way to the kitchen.
"Miguel?" I repeated. I flipped on the light to the kitchen and saw him standing there. He was doubled over with one hand grasping the back of a chair. Blood dripped from his nose onto the faded tile below.
"You need to go to bed." His voice was rough. I stepped deeper into the room, ignoring him. He let out a groan as he tried to pull on the back of his suit. He reached for something, but he couldn't grasp it. He dropped his head, trying to catch his breath. I stopped several feet in front of him.
Slowly, he lifted his head. Blood covered his bottom lip. His face was bleeding from a cut on his cheekbone. It was a gash that was slowly oozing dark blood.
"Oh my God. Miguel!" I rushed forward, filling the distance.
"It's not as bad as it looks. They’ll heal, they just need a bit of time.” He said. Blood ran down his jaw as he spoke. He looked bad; bad enough that, if he had been the other version of himself, we would have immediately been on the way to the hospital.
There were several gashes that had managed to cut through his suit, exposing the skin beneath.
Dear God, what the hell happened to him?
"Go away." He said. He waved his hand, motioning for me to do as I had been told. He leaned over the side of the counter. Bruises were blossoming on his tan skin, painting him in shades of blue and black.
"Just let me help you. Are there any bandages in the house?" I asked.
"I don't need help."
"Miguel."
"What?" His voice was harsh; his words lined with actual pain.
"Stop being so damn stubborn and just let me help you." I said. I walked over the lower cabinet and pulled out a hand towel. I stepped back toward him, hoping that he would soften.
Instead, he scowled at me. "Go to bed. You're just working yourself up over nothing."
"This isn't nothing."
He rolled his eyes as he stepped forward. "I'm completely fine." His leg went out from under him. I tried to catch and steady him, but instead, we both tumbled to the ground below.
I watched as several of the more superficial cuts on his body began to close.
"Jesus, Miguel. What happened?" He shook his head as he pushed himself off of the floor.
"It's nothing. That's why I didn't want you to see any of this." He paused. "What the hell are you even doing down here?" He grabbed onto the counter to steady himself. Part of me expected to see him break the counter under his fingers.
I pushed myself off of the floor and rushed to his side. "Is there anything I can do?" I asked. He shook his head.
"I'm going to clean up. Go to bed." He winced as he stepped away from the counter. Based on the way he winced as he touched his side, he probably had a cracked rib.
I couldn't imagine anything that was strong enough to do this to him. Unless it had been something, or several somethings, that were all exactly like him.
"I'm going to help you." I said. I eyed one of the deeper bruises that covered the side of his jaw. He caught me staring at the dark mark.
"They'll heal, I swear. I can heal relatively fast." He said. Fear tore through me. What if he was wrong? What if he was lying? He hadn't meant for me to see him coming home. He had fully intended on keeping this hidden from me, regardless of how badly he was hurt. "The worst ones are the cuts but even those will be fine in an hour or two."
I had already lost him once…
He glanced over at me. Fear swirled in my eyes as I watched him. Based on the way that his face twitched, I knew he could see it.
He glanced down at the floor. Then, he leaned to the side and caught my arm in his gloved hand. His touch was gentle, but commanding.
"Come here." He instructed. I shifted toward him, moving until his chest was almost touching mine. I could hear his steady heartbeat and feel the warmth that was pouring off his skin.
"I love you. I promise I'm okay." His voice was no more than a whisper.
"Just let me help you." I said. He sighed to himself, giving in to my attempt at kindness.
The downstairs bathroom was quiet. Miguel was perched on the edge of the tub, watching as I leaned over the edge of the basin.
I turned the metal handles to the tub. Warm water spurted into the bottom of the tub. I watched as it began to pool at the bottom. Outside, I could hear the thunder boom. Rain beat against the roof of the house, filling it with the soft sound of water hitting
"This isn't necessary. You should go back to sleep." He said. He pressed the towel to his face. Most of the blood had stopped flowing.
"I wasn't asleep."
"Why not?"
"The house is creepy at night. It's too quiet. I'm used to actual sounds from the city and there just aren't any here."
"I'm sorry."
"It's fine."
Soon, the tub was filled three quarters of the way. I leaned over and quickly turned off the flow of water. I straightened my stance and then looked back at Miguel. He offered a soft smile. A bruise blossomed just below his eye, though it immediately began to fade away.
"I was really worried about you." I admitted.
"I'm okay."
"Are you?" I didn't believe him. He looked rough. It was as if he had been dragged through hell. It hurt to look at him too long.
"This is all… purely superficial. I'll be better soon." I crossed my arms. Worry and fear covered my face; it was impossible to hide.
"Sweetheart, there's nothing to worry about." His voice was like warm honey. He lifted his hand upward and motioned for me to come to him. Without question, I did.
One arm gently curled around my waist. The other drifted upward to ghost the side of my face.
"I'm okay. This all just…" he sighed. He leaned his face forward and gently touched his forehead to my stomach. Warm skin pressed into my shirt. I could feel him slowly inhale as he breathed me in. Then, he lifted his face, peering up at me in the dim room. "This is just how it is." His voice was no more than a whisper.
"You look tired." He said. He noticed the dark circles under my eyes.
"You're one to talk." He let out a humorless laugh.
His fingers slid across my cheek, wiping away a dark droplet that had landed on my skin. The material on his fingers was smoother than I had imagined.
"You don't have to take care of me."
"Well, you don't seem to have any sense of self preservation. So if I don't, I don't figure you'll take care of yourself." I said. He looked at my face for a long moment. A soft smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.
"No, that's not it. I think you care about me." Pride bubbled in his voice. I rolled my eyes.
"Strip and get in the tub."
"Yes, Ma'am." He taunted. He winced as he reached backward again, tugging at the neck of the suit. His usual gracefulness was gone. He groaned, pulling at the back of the suit to no avail.
"Are you okay?" I asked. He winced again as he tried to grab onto something that wasn't there.
"I got hit earlier and I think the thing broke. I can't get it to move." His fingers worked over the material but it was no use.
"Here. Let me get it." I said. He stooped downward, moving so that I could actually grab onto the back of the material. He awkwardly leaned over as I pulled at the metal on the back of the suit. It looked like there had once been a zipper, but the tiny handle had been busted. Below it were several small clasps that had been bent down to cover the path of the zipper.
"They really did a number on you." I murmured. I pushed my thumb under one of the clasps. I bent it forward, moving it so that I could see the path of the zipper. I did the same for the other pieces of metal that had become deformed. Then, I pinched what remained of the head of the zipper. I pulled the zipper downward, hearing him sigh softly when I unzipped the material between his shoulder blades. His skin spread out between my fingers, warm and slightly wet from sweat.
"There you go." I said. I released him and stepped backward. He should be good to go now.
I watched as he effortlessly peeled the suit off of his bruised body. The bruises were changing in color, some getting darker as others began to fade before my eyes.
He pulled the suit off of his arms, then down his muscular torso. As he reached his hips, I looked away, suddenly very aware of the fact that he wasn't wearing anything beneath the skin tight material.
My face turned bright red. I looked at the door behind us, waiting for him to climb into the water. "You're blushing."
"No, I'm… just get in the water." I heard him chuckle as he stepped out of the material. He crudely folded the material and then tossed it across the floor. It landed in a pile beside my left foot. I rolled my eyes.
"Sweetheart, you don't have to look away from me." He said. I heard the water move as he stepped into the tub. I turned around, watching as he sank into the bath.
I watched a dark bruise on his bare collarbone fade into his skin before disappearing. It was as if it had never been there to begin with.
He was always full of surprises.
Miguel leaned back against the cold metal of the tub. Outside, lightning shot across the sky. It filled the room with a sudden white light.
“I’ll clean up the floor in a little bit.” He said. The tiles in the kitchen and bathroom were stained and slick. In the dim light, the droplets on the floor looked almost black.
“No, you’re not. You’re going to go to bed after this.” I said. “And you’re actually going to sleep.”
"That's what you think." He muttered.
"Are you always this stubborn?” I asked.
"Only for you, sweetheart."
I grabbed a towel off of the counter and gently dabbed it against his cheek. His eyes focused hard on my face as I tried to tend to his fading wounds. He was attempting to read my features. I sat down beside the bathtub.
“Do I want to know what happened?” I asked. It wasn’t a playful or light question. He could hear the weight in my voice as I cleaned his face.
“You wouldn’t like me anymore if I told you.” It was such an honest comment that I could tell it pained him. If I knew what he did when he was away, then any chance of me loving him would vanish.
Maybe it was best that I didn’t know.
"Are you in any pain?" I asked. He shook his head.
Steam from the tub drifted upward, clinging to his strong chest in thick beads.
"Why have you been ignoring me for the last week?" I asked. His face tensed.
"I haven't been."
I scoffed lightly as I gently wiped his face with a towel. "And you said I was bad at acting."
"I've had a lot on my mind." He said. I nodded slowly.
"You can talk to me." I said. He offered a faint smile. He couldn't, because it was most likely about me.
"Are you mad at me?" I asked. He shook his head.
"No, I promise." I looked down at the tile floor. I didn't know what to say to him. Something weird hung in the space between us.
Suddenly, his voice cut through the cold air.
"Get in with me." He said.
"What? No." I said. He furrowed his brow. He hadn't expected me to refuse.
"Why?" he asked.
"Because you're wounded and I don't want to hurt you."
He let out a low laugh, almost as if he was mocking me. "Believe me, it's impossible for you to hurt me. Now be a good girl and get in the tub."
"You know I'm not your pet, right?" He smirked at my words. A pet was exactly what he considered me to be; maybe a darling pet that he seemed to have a steadfast devotion to, but a pet nonetheless. I rolled my eyes and began to stand up from where I had been perched.
"Come on, sweetheart. Just get in with me. Please?" His voice was warm, much like his eyes. I sighed as I watched him.
A nagging voice told me to just walk off. Just go to bed and ignore him. He was clearly fine. Everything that he said would happen, had actually happened. He was healing up perfectly fine. He didn't need to be babied; he was a kidnapper, not a stray cat that needed to be brought in from the rain. But still, I couldn't make myself leave the small bathroom.
"Please?" He repeated. I groaned before I stepped back from the tub. I grabbed onto the bottom of my shirt and pulled it upward. I hauled it over my head and then discarded it onto the floor. My pajama bottoms and underwear followed close behind.
Stepping forward, I felt the cold air bite into my skin. I winced before casting a leg over the edge of the tub. I had picked the opposite side of the tub to where he was sitting, though something told me he had wanted me to climb on top of him.
I sank into the water across from him. I lifted my hands to my chest and quickly crossed my arms in an attempt at maintaining some sense of modesty. Miguel's eyes traced over me, drinking me in. His gaze was so intense that it made me squirm.
"Stop staring at me." I said.
"You're beautiful." His voice was low and warm. I readjusted my arms to make sure I was covered. I wracked my brain, searching for something to say.
"So, what's the thing about this timeline?" I said.
"What do you mean 'thing'?" He asked.
"What makes it different from my timeline? I mean, there's absolutely no way that everything is the same. And, even with all of the people gone, there's got to be something weird here."
"Firstly, ouch. Bold of you to assume that my work isn't perfect." He lifted his index finger as he playfully chided me.
"What's the second thing?" I asked.
"Secondly, aren't we enough of a 'thing'?" We were both here. That was weird, as far as timelines went. We were both alive and okay, regardless of how we had ended up here.
"Come on. Surely there's something weird here. Maybe they call tuna by some other weird name or maybe the movie Titanic doesn't exist here."
"Well, you're the only person here, so you can call tuna whatever you want. I may mock you if you choose something ridiculous, but that's entirely your choice. Also, I don't think that any movies have ever come out here."
I watched his face as he spoke.
Goosebumps danced across my skin as I sat in the water. "I think I'm about to get out. The house is too cold to be in here." I said.
He leaned forward and reached out his arms. In one smooth movement, he hauled me upward and he pulled me into his lap, making sure that my back was pressing into his chest. He leaned backwards, lifted his right thigh upward, and promptly placed me there. His other leg spread outward. His warm skin pressed into my back. I could feel the hard outline of muscles as I sat there. I squirmed.
"This isn't fair." I murmured.
"Sure it is."
"How do you figure?"
"I dragged you over here, fair and square." He smirked. He pressed a kiss to the back of my shoulder. I rolled my eyes as I turned to look at the window. Rain beat down against the empty city. Clouds drifted across the sky, leaving several patches visible.
"The stars are different here." I said.
"Hmm?"
"The stars." I lifted my hand upward. I pointed toward the window to show him what I meant. "Pegasus is supposed to be right there. It's gone. The only one there is Andromeda."
Andromeda. The chained woman.
The irony was not lost upon me.
My ring was my chain; Miguel my warden. Yet, I couldn't bring myself to take the ring off or to truly push him away.
He pressed another kiss against my back. This time, I could feel the stubble of his jaw scrape against my skin.
"You're warm." I murmured. He smiled against my skin.
"I'm glad." He gently sucked on the soft piece of skin. I gasped, feeling his fangs graze for a moment. Though, by the time the sound had left my lips, he had already pulled back.
"Sorry." He said. He inspected his handiwork on my flesh, making sure that he had not broken the skin.
I glanced over my shoulder, watching him as he slid his fingers along the skin of my back. He was enjoying getting to touch me. He could still see the novelty in how new it was.
When he shifted under me, I felt the hard shape of his erection brush the back of my thigh.
Without thinking, I glanced over my shoulder again. I leaned backward, moving until my back touched his chest. I looked up at him. His eyes were warm and soft.
"What?" He asked. Without a word, I kissed him. He sighed against my mouth, moving slowly and carefully. As he did, I felt a familiar want beginning to stir inside of me. Slowly, I pulled away from him. I then tried to move off of his leg and was mildly surprised when he didn't try to hold me down. Instead, I lifted my hips upward and began to rearrange myself in the water, moving so that one leg sat on either side of his hips.
I slid my legs around his waist and then pushed myself closer to him. The bottom of the cast iron tub was slick beneath us. It was hard to arrange myself in the water, but somehow I managed. Miguel leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss against my lips. As he did, I lifted my hands upward and grabbed his shoulders for leverage.
“Careful, careful.” Miguel said. He placed a hand on the curve of my back to make sure that I didn’t slip in the water.
“Aww, so you can be nice.”
I smiled as I slid my hands across his strong shoulders. I could feel all of the muscles flex under my fingertips. A soft smirk painted his lips. God, he was gorgeous. It wasn't fair for one person to look this perfect.
But, looking at him, he looked like he was bone tired.
He leaned in for another kiss, but I bobbed backward. He already looked clean enough; I wanted to tell him to get out of the water and go to bed.
"What's wrong?" He asked. He looked hard at my face, searching for something in my features. But, before I could speak, he followed it up with another question. "Are you scared of me?" He asked.
"What?" It caught me off guard.
"You heard me. Are you?"
A little bit.
"I don't think you would hurt me." I said. It wasn’t a lie.
“I would never hurt you.” His hands drifted to my face. Gently, his traced his fingers along the curve of my jaw, taking in every feature. “But, are you scared of me?”
I knew exactly what he was referring to. The eyes, the fangs, even the sheer size of him was intimidating. But, under all of that, he was still just Miguel. Even if he wasn’t my version of him, I knew he wouldn’t hurt me.
“No.” I said. He offered a faint smile that didn’t meet his eyes. He didn’t believe me, but he seemed grateful that I would be willing to tell him what he wanted.
“I love you.” He said.
“I love you, too.” He smiled at my words. I knew that it would make him happy to hear them. They were only three little words, yet they seemed to mean everything to him.
As I watched his face, I couldn't help but notice how exhausted he looked.
"You look tired. You didn’t sleep last night. You haven’t slept any of the other nights, either. I woke up to go to the bathroom around four and you were still awake. " I said.
“Yes, I did sleep.”
“I saw you… Please just be honest with me.”
“Aren’t I always?”
“No, you never are.” He rolled his eyes at the accusation. “Why don’t you ever sleep?” I asked. Rain continued its assault on the roof, growing louder as the storm reached its peak.
“I usually can’t.” Thunder rolled so loud that I looked toward the window.
“Bad dreams.” A dark tendril of hair fell across his forehead. I reached forward and gently brushed it out of the way.
“About what?”
He shook his head before he pressed another kiss against my lips. That was his way of changing the conversation. Whatever it was, he didn’t want to talk about it.
“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered. His hand snaked between our naked bodies. Without hesitation, he grazed my clit with the pad of one of his fingers.
I gasped at the sudden touch. But, I didn’t move away. His index finger swirled over the bundle of nerves, forcing my toes to curl. I inched my body closer to him, begging for him not to stop.
He rubbed faster and faster. I could feel myself getting closer to finishing. Miguel watched me with a burning intensity; his eyes were dark lust as he worked. I ground my hips against his fingers, feeling the pleasure beginning to grow in my lower stomach.
Suddenly, it overtook me. I gasped and almost fell forward from how suddenly a blinding warmth shot through me. Each touch was too much; it felt like I was on fire. Miguel caught me before I could tumble off of his body. He held me as I twitched on top of him, spasming from his gentle touches.
As I began to drift back down from the orgasm, I could feel his cock as it lay against his stomach. He was painfully hard. Every time I would bob a little too far forward in the water, I would brush into it, feeling just how desperate he was.
“I think it’s time to call it a night.” I whispered.
“You don’t want to stay in here with me, sweetheart?” His voice was velvety and sweet; his little nickname for me was lined with lust.
“No, because I’m not on birth control. You’re going to end up knocking me up.” I said it partially as a joke.
He didn’t laugh.
Oh.
“Miguel.”
“We have children in every universe.” He said it so softly and calmly that it was as if he was saying the sun was yellow and the sky was blue. It simply was the way of the universe; it was how things were and always would be.
“We didn’t in mine.” I said.
“Because he died. Besides, it wasn’t for a lack of trying.” My face turned bright red. There was something in the way that he said the last part that raised a suspicion I hadn't had before.
“Were you ever watching?” I asked.
“Not from outside of the window or anything like that, but I did catch… glimpses in your timeline.”
“Miguel!”
“I was working!” He defended himself. “I never watched went out of my way to watch you two when you were… intimate. The only times that I ever spied on you were when you were alone.”
“What do you mean when I was alone?” I remembered the photos of me that I had found in the box.
“When he was at work and I thought something would happen to you; when I was worried about you.”
He was telling the truth, at least as far as I could tell.
“Why didn’t you ever spy on him and I?” I asked. I expected him to say that he respected me too much to do that. Then again, he treated me like a pet, so it was rather questionable how much he respected me.
“Jealousy, mostly.”
“Oh.”
“I’ve been alone for a long time, sweetheart. He had you and he was always working; he was always gone.” He said.
“You’re always gone, too.” He frowned at the statement.
Maybe all of the versions of him truly were the same. Based on how he winced, he seemed to be considering that fact.
“He couldn’t protect you because he was never there.” He said.
“Nothing happened to me. There was nothing to protect me from.”
“But there could have been.” He was obsessed with the idea that I was fragile. Which, I mean, compared to him, I was. But he still didn’t have to be this worried.
He was haunted by the idea of me dying and obsessed with the idea of saving me. Maybe it was to make up for his past failures.
“I’ve lost you in countless timelines. I could never risk it.” He winced. “But, you’re here now and you’re safe. You’ll always be mine and I’ll always be yours.” He said. We belonged to each other, whenever or wherever we were. The notion both charmed and chilled me. But, one of those feelings quickly won over the other. Or maybe it was just the lingering effects of the previous orgasm.
“Do you want me?” I asked. I was hoping to sound sexy; I just sounded pathetic.
“More than anything.”
I leaned forward and gently grabbed his cock. He groaned, lifting his hips upward so that I could have better access. I slid my hand up and down several times before I moved my body closer to him. As I moved, he held onto me, making sure that I didn’t slip in the tub. I carefully lined him up with my entrance, feeling another wave of want wash through me. I curled one arm around his shoulder.
“Ready?” He asked. I nodded quickly as I clung to him.
I whimpered when he slid inside. My fingers dug into his shoulders. He groaned as he sunk all the way in. I felt my body stretch, trying to accommodate him.
After a moment, I pushed my legs into the tub and lifted myself upward. He curled one arm around my waist, watching me in wonder and awe as I slid down again, making us both groan.
I lifted one hand off of his shoulder. His body had been through enough tonight. I didn't want to risk the one-in-a-million chance that I grabbed onto a sore spot. I gripped the cold edge of the tub to balance myself. But, just as suddenly as I had placed it there, it was pulled off. Miguel pulled my hand into his, lacing our fingers together.
He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss against my lips. I smiled, giving into his mouth. The kiss was brief; it was broken when I gasped against him mouth, feeling a warm pleasure begin to grow inside of me.
I bounced my hips, feeling him hit deep with every movement. I moaned. My stomach was beginning to tighten.
He tightened his hold on my hand. One of his fingers brushed over the ring that I was still wearing.
I was his. I belonged to him.
As if he could read my mind, he pressed his lips against mine again.
When he pulled away, he said "Open your eyes."
I did as told. My eyes met his as I slid downward on his cock. Then, before my body could meet his, he thrusted upward, making me gasp.
"Keep looking at me." He said. I nodded as I lifted my hips upward. He groaned, quickly burying himself deep inside of me. He wanted to watch the way my face twitched with pleasure when he fucked me. He wanted to see what he did to me; what power he had over me.
I tightened my hold on his hand. If he was a normal man, I was sure I would have accidentally broken one of his fingers from how hard I was gripping him.
I lifted my hips, then brought them down on him just as he slammed inside of me. We did it over and over again, forcing out gasps and moans from each other.
“Miguel, I’m close! Don’t stop!” I moaned. I was so damn close. I could feel the tightening in my lower stomach every time he sheathed himself inside of me.
Then, all at once, I felt a wave of heat wash over me.
I gasped, clenching around him as I came undone. Pleasure coursed through my body, making my toes curl and my head fall back. Miguel pressed a kiss to the base of my throat as he hammered inside of me, not stopping his pace.
After a moment, he let out a low groan. He moaned my name and I was suddenly very aware of the warm fluid that filled me. It was leaking down my upper thighs and into the water around us.
The pleasure began to fade away. I gasped, trying to catch the breath that I had been holding. Miguel smiled and leaned back against the tub, his body tired and spent. A mixture of sweat and water glistened against his skin.
It was around three in the morning. I could feel the exhaustion beginning to sink into my bones.
I moved to climb off of him, but just as he had last time, he held me in place. One hand held my hips in place, pinning me on top of him. I sighed, giving up any notion of fighting. It was useless; his grip was ironclad.
"Let me hold you... just for a little while." His voice was soft. His other hand drifted to the curve of my back. He pulled me forward, moving me until my chest lay against his.
"I'm tired." I murmured.
"I know, sweetheart."
I leaned my head against his shoulder and closed my eyes. I could hear his heart in my ear. Its strumming was low and steady. His skin was warm. "I missed you." he said.
I wasn't sure if he was talking to me directly, or some distant memory of me. But I would take what I could get.
"I missed you, too."
He pressed a gentle kiss against my damp hair. Outside, lightning cut across the sky.
@levisbebe @amplsblog @spider-biter @taleiak @ladyfairenvale (I tried to tag everyone who asked! I’m sorry if I missed you!)
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The Littlest Dragon (Part 1)
Fandom: Twisted Wonderland
Malleus Draconia/GN!Reader
Summary: Your quiet life as a herbalist is disrupted when you take in an injured dragon
Word Count: 5,768
Notes: I just really want a mini-dragon
Warnings: None
Part 1, Part 2 Part 3
You almost mistake the bundle of black for a pile of cloth. Upon closer inspection, you can see shiny obsidian scales that shimmer in the light. The creature is larger than a squirrel but smaller than a house cat. Unsure what to do, you approach him cautiously but he doesn’t move.
Gently turning him over, your eyes widen. “A dragon?” Despite his small size, he has definite features of the powerful beasts just squished together in a smaller form.
A quick once over, you can see a twisted front leg and one wing bent at an odd angle. The creature's chest moves up and down but you can almost make out a pained gasp. Making a snap decision, you carefully wrap the dragon in your coat before rushing back home. Your half filled basket of herbs forgotten.
Bursting through the gate, you startle the three chickens resting nearby. The cluck loudly as you give a quick apology. Setting the dragon down on your table inside the cottage, you wash your hands before grabbing what you need.
Setting the armload of potions, salves and bandages, you get to work patching up the dragon. Thankfully the little guy stays passed out throughout the process. You clean and disinfect the wounds before applying salves. You create a makeshift splint for the front leg and wing. After finally satisfied, you slump down in a chair.
Watching the creature curiously, you decide to let him rest until he wakes up. You aren’t sure about the healing rate of dragons let alone such a small one.
Resting your cheek on the table, you gently stroke the top of his head. You’re fascinated by the two horns that curl back into his head. “I didn’t realize they could be so small,” you mumble.
Letting out a deep sigh, you take the dragon upstairs to your bedroom. You place a pillow on a chair in the corner of your room and set him down. Recalling a lesson on dragons, you bundle a spare blanket around him for a makeshift nest. Leaving the creature to rest, you return downstairs to clean up.
---
A few days go by but the dragon remains asleep. You periodically check in on him to change the dressings and reapply the salves. You’re happy to say the wounds are healing nicely. However, you’re starting to worry if the dragon will ever wake up.
It’s the middle of the night when you’re roused from sleep. Blearily opening your eyes, you meet the deep green gaze of the dragon. He stands on the pillow next to your own. His tongue flicks out making you flinch.
“Oh, you’re finally awake,” you mutter. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you sit up, which causes the dragon to step back. “How’d you even get over here?” You finally notice the bandages on the wing missing, but he seems perfectly fine.
He tilts his head to one side. Dragons are said to be intelligent creatures, you recall. “Do you want something to eat? I assume you’re probably hungry after sleeping for five days.”
Without waiting for an answer, you get out of bed and head downstairs with the little creature flying after you. You manage to make a simple plate of beef and vegetables. Watching the dragon attack the meal with such ferocity, you realize he must have been starving despite seeming so calm. Once he finishes the meal, he sits back with his claws on his stomach.
“Satisfied?” You chuckle as you notice food all over his face. He stays completely still as you clean his face.
Leaning an elbow on the table, you both stare at each other. “So… what do I call you?” He only lets out a gurgling of growls in response. “How about Tsunotarou?” He seems to nod as if your silly name is an acceptable one for a dragon.
“Well, it seems like your wing is healed, but your front leg still needs a bit of time. If you want, you can stay here until then,” you offer.
He says something you don’t understand once more, but looks satisfied as he decides to perch on your shoulder. “Alright, let's go back to bed. I have an early morning.” Yawning, you head back upstairs for some sleep.
---
You live in a cottage away from others. It was a gift from your late parents. Small but cozy, you don’t mind the solitude. In the front, you have a chicken coop with three hens. You also have a small barn for your goat, Phillis. In the back, your garden grows a few vegetables, fruits and herbs. The woods nearby provide you with wild herbs and berries. Anything else you need, you can go into town or ask Ace and Deuce to bring them.
As a herbalist, you create salves and potions, which you sell in town once a week. Unlike most herbalists, you lack magic. However, that’s never stopped you from doing your job. Plus you were taught by the best of the best, so the quality of your work is great.
The usual day consists of you getting up early to feed the chickens and goat. Then you take stock of your inventory. After, you usually head into the woods to gather herbs. The rest of the day consists of brewing potions and salves, and tending to the garden. At night, you make dinner, make sure the chickens are in their coop, and do some light reading before bed. Rinse and repeat.
It may seem dull to most, but you enjoy the routine. Sometimes your day is broken up by a visit from Ace and Deuce, an adventuring duo, who you’ve known since school. They argue and fight, but ultimately work well as a team when needed. Their antics never fail to make your day entertaining.
Today when you get up, the dragon follows you. In the kitchen you make a breakfast of eggs and a fruit bowl. It seems Tsunotarou isn’t too picky on what you feed him as he gobbles everything up. After a quick cleanup, you and your new companion head outside. Your three chickens are already awake. They strut around the front yard as you grab a bag of feed.
“Alright, ladies, time for breakfast,” you call. Sprinkling the food, the three descend near you in a flurry of white and brown feathers.
Tsunotarou, who perched himself on your shoulder, leans forward watching in rapt interest. “Do you want to try to feed them?” you ask, holding the bag of feed up.
Using his good claw, he picks up a small handful before tossing them in the air. Most of the feed falls on the ground, though some does fall on the chickens. “Maybe aim a little more toward the ground,” you chuckle.
The three start trying to eat the feed off each other's backs, which causes a lot of squawking. One pecks another on the head rather viciously. “Flora, that’s not nice! Now apologize to Merryweather,” Scolding the chicken, she seems to deflate a bit before sulkily wandering off with a sad cluck.
Shaking your head, you set aside the chicken feed to grab food for Phillis. “Those two always seem to be fighting,” you tell Tsunotarou, who continues to watch the three hens. “Fauna is the mild mannered one of the group, thankfully. I guess she balances them out.”
Phillis comes trotting over the moment you're within sight. Patting her head, you scratch her behind the ears. “Morning, princess.” She bleats happily at the attention. The little dragon flies off your shoulder to get a better look at Phillis. She noses his stomach curiously as he reaches out to pat her on the snout.
“She’s a gentle one.” You smile as she nudges your side to hurry you up on getting her breakfast. “Okay, okay! I’m getting there.”
Once you give her food and water, you head back inside to your work room. You go through your current stock of ingredients while Tsunotarou flips through the thick tome of recipes. You wonder briefly if dragons can read, but knowing how highly intelligent they are, it wouldn’t be much of a surprise.
“That was given to me by my former teacher, Crewel. He taught me everything I know about brewing potions,” you explain as you check things off. “He was a tough teacher, but I learned from the best. I still have nightmares about that riding crop…” Not that he ever used it on you, but when he wanted to make a point, he made one.
You continue, “The potion and salve I used for you is for speeding up the healing process. It supposedly works on all living creatures, so I was hoping it would work on dragons.”
Tsunotarou leaves the tome to come over to your side. You shake your head as you reread your lists. “I seem to be out of a lot of stuff,” you mutter to yourself.
Pinching the bridge of your nose, you sigh. “I’ll have to make a trip into town.” Glancing at the creature on your shoulder, you regard him silently. His intelligent green eyes stare back as he stretches his wings.
“So, I either have to leave you here alone.” He bristles, eyes narrowing. “Or, you have to stay hidden until we get back from town.” You aren’t sure how people would react if they saw a small dragon on your shoulder. It would be better not to take the chance of possibly causing a commotion.
He agrees to your second option as he flies off your shoulder and lands in the satchel you keep hung up near the front door. His head pokes out when you don’t move. “I’m coming. I’m coming.”
You leave for the main shopping center with the dragon in tow. A bit nervous, you try to calm yourself through the walk. Tsunotarou pokes his head out taking in the scenery. At least someone is feeling fine.
The hustle and bustle of the town can be heard as you near the gate. The guards let you through without much of a glance. Here, adventures and merchants can check in the numerous guilds while stocking up on supply. It’s always busy as people move in and out. You only really stop here every few months to get supplies. By now, the shops you frequent are familiar with what you need, which makes shopping a little easier.
First stop is to pick up some herbs. Looking at your herb list, you easily weave your way through the streets. “I was dangerously low on four leaf clovers and died mandrakes…”
“Hello?” The greenhouse is quiet as you don’t see anyone. “Jack?” You tap the little bell on the front counter.
Finally, someone comes to the front. “Hey, (Y/N),” Jack greets with a nod. Though just a part-timer, he knows the greenhouse inside and out.
Smiling, you point to your list. “Just need to restock a few things.” Handing the list over, he quickly looks everything over.
“I’ll be right back with everything.” He’s gone in a flash.
You feel Tsunotarou wiggle around in the satchel before poking his head out. “You have to stay hidden,” you whisper, placing a finger over your lips.
His head turns this way and that way before he retreats back into the bag. Just in time too as Jack returns with your things. Scratching his head, his ears twitch. “Uh, sorry we’re out of powdered death caps. We oughta be getting some next week.”
“That’s fine. I don’t think I’ll be needing them right away. Can you put me on the list to set some aside when they come in?” He leans over to hand you the other items. He pauses for a moment, his brows drawing together as his eyes dart around.
“Jack?” You inch back a bit. You can only hope he’ll ignore whatever he’s smelling.
Seeming to remember himself, he pulls back with an awkward cough. “S-sorry…” He hastily scribbles your name down in a small book. “That’ll be thirty-three for the rest.”
As you reach in your satchel for your coin purse, your hand brushes against the dragon hiding there. Freezing up, your gaze darts over to Jack, who thankfully is busy doing something else. You feel coins being pressed into your hand. Glancing inside your bag, Tsunotarou looks up at you expectantly. He flicks his tongue out a few times.
Counting the coins in your hand, you can’t help the grin spreading across your face. He had given your exact change. “Somethin’ up?” Jack inquires, noting the way you’re looking down.
Snapping your attention back to him, you shake your head. “Nope. Here’s the money.” You hurriedly hand him the coins. “I’ll see you next week, Jack.” Giving him a rushed wave, you quickly leave the greenhouse.
Once a good distance away, you let out a deep sigh. “I think that went well.” Opening your satchel a bit, you’re met with judging green eyes. “Don’t look at me like that! I panicked!”
Shoving the bag of herbs into a corner of the satchel, Tsunotarou curls deeper into the bag. Letting the satchel bag flap fall back down, you return to the other lists you made. “Guess we’ll visit Sam’s shop next…”
Sam’s is busy as usual when you arrive. Pushing through the throng of customers, you make your way to the shelf filled with bottles. Picking out a few that you need for potions, you move on to the jars. By the time you go to checkout, you can feel Tsunotarou squirming inside the satchel. He pokes his head out every now and then, but only does it when there aren’t many people around. People are too busy with their own shopping, they don’t even glance your way.
“Welcome back, little imp!” Sam greets.
You return the greeting with a wide smile. “Hey, Sam. Just the usual.” As Sam wraps each glass bottle in brown paper, you mentally do the math of how much you owe.
He carefully splits your items into two bags. “That’ll be one-hundred unless you’re looking for something out of stock?”
“No, I’m good for today.” You reach into your satchel and Tsunotarou presses the coins into your hand. “Here you go.”
Sam eyes your bag with interest but doesn’t say anything. “See you next time!”
You’re thankful that Sam doesn’t pry. The next stores are all uneventful. By the time you’re walking back home, you have an armload of bags. Your satchel can usually hold more, but the extra guest makes it difficult to fit anything beyond the herbs in there.
Once home, you put everything away before feeding everyone. Later, you’re stretched out in front of the fireplace with a botany book in hand. Tsunotarou is curled up on your lap while you read and take notes along the pages. Though you’re used to being alone, it’s like a familiar comfort to feel his weight on your lap.
When it’s time for bed, you carry the still sleeping dragon upstairs. Putting Tsunotarou in the makeshift nest, you climb into bed. However, before you can fall asleep, Tsunotarou flies over with the blanket in his mouth. Standing at the edge of the bed, it’s almost like he’s giving you puppy dog eyes.
Rolling your eyes, you pat the empty spot near your pillow. “Fine, come on.”
He lets out a satisfied chirp. He wraps the blanket in a neat pile before laying down. Laying on your side, you chuckle while scratching the top of his head. “Good night, Tsunotarou.”
---
At the end of the month you’re preparing a few potions that need to be bathed in moonlight. Tsunotarou sets down the vials you’ve finished in the rack on the windowsill near the front door. You're grateful to have the extra…claws while juggling a few other things at once.
“One more glamor potion and that should be the last of the orders,” you tell Tsunotarou as he perches on your shoulder while you’re stirring the cauldron. “Thanks for the help.” You give him a little scratch under his chin.
You swear he purrs with the way you feel his body vibrate. “I swear you’re a cat disguised as a dragon,” you chortle while bopping him on the nose.
He stares back at you before slowly blinking in return. “You can’t blame me for making the connection. You even caught a snake and left it as a gift,” you continue while sprinkling in some crushed rose petals. “Also, you shouldn’t do that again.”
The dragon grumbles deep within his chest. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate the gesture, but let's leave the wildlife alone.”
Pouring the potion into a vial and sealing it, you hand it off to Tsunotarou, who takes it into his paws before flying off to put it in the rack. Taking a seat, you lean back with a deep sigh.
Tsunotarou returns, taking a seat on the table. His front paw is fully healed and is no longer wrapped in bandages. Despite being back to full health, it doesn’t seem like he plans to go anywhere.
Suddenly there’s a commotion of loud squawking before the front door is thrown open. “Oi! (Y/N), we’re back!” Ace shouts while letting the door bang.
You tumble back in the chair and hit the ground. “Ahhhkk-ow!” Your head rebounds off the floor with a loud smack.
Two things happen at once. Deuce, who’s behind Ace, rushes over to help you up; however, he’s met with a hissing dragon blocking him that spits red flames at him. His sleeve automatically catches fire and the cottage is filled with panicked, confused screaming.
“Ahhhahhhhhck! Put it out!”
“Is that a dragon!?”
While the two run around screaming, you stare in a daze at the ceiling. Tsunotarou’s face suddenly fills your vision. He chirps a few times before you finally respond with a pat on his head. “I’m okay…”
Slowly sitting up, you notice the two idiots are now quiet. Deuce is no longer on fire, thankfully. However, they take in the sight of Tsunotarou sitting on your shoulder from a safe distance. You wince when you touch the already forming lump on the back of your head.
You huff before glaring at the redhead. “What did I say about suddenly bursting through the front door, Ace?! Can’t you knock like a normal person?”
“Well…I-I…!” Ace sputters unintelligibly before he jabs a finger at the dragon on your shoulder. “Forget about me for a second! What’s that thing?!”
Tsunotarou bares his teeth with a low growl. “We are going to have this conversation later,” you tell him before shifting gears. “This is Tsunotarou. I found him in the forest a little over a month ago.”
“Is he like a baby dragon?” Deuce asks, eyes wide.
Picking up the fallen chair, you shake your head. “I don’t think so. Anyways, baby dragons are much larger. Maybe he’s just a special type of dragon?”
Ace leans closer but pulls back when Tsunotarou snaps at him. “Kinda vicious. He almost barbecued poor Deucy.”
“You also busted in here suddenly. He probably thought you two were threats,” you point out. “Anyways, What trouble did you get into this time?”
“Psssh! Why’d you think we got in trouble?”
“Because you have an infected, bleeding wound on your arm, Ace.” Rolling your eyes, you go to your workroom before returning with a handful of potions, salves, and bandages. “Sit.”
As they plop down, you hand them each a potion. “We had a commission to take down some orcs that were terrorizing a small village,” Deuce explains. “But, uh, turns out it was actually a colony of orcs.”
“So you got beat up?” You clean Deuce’s cuts, which are mostly minor. A few do need some salve and bandages.
You move on to Ace, who looks the worse between the two. “We didn’t get beat up,” Ace grumbles. “We took them down! Aaaa-ouch!!” Biting your lip, you continue to dab his infected wound.
“You two get into more trouble than anyone I know. Did you at least get a good reward?”
“Of course!” Ace pulls out a hefty coin purse and lets it fall on the table. “All in a day's work.” He grins smugly with his nose in the air.
Flicking his nose, you shake your head as he covers his face. “Don’t freely show that off or you’ll get mugged. Again.” Finished with his wounds, you place a small container of salve in his hand. “Use this once a day until everything is gone. It should, hopefully, not scar.”
“Um, (Y/N), can we crash here?” Deuce asks. He shrinks back when you give him a look.
Rubbing your temples, you sigh, “Fine. But one of you is gonna be sleeping on the floor cause I only have one couch.”
Ace jumps up. “Dibs!”
“Wait, you got the couch the last time! It’s my turn!” Leaving the two bickering adventurers, you head upstairs to find some spare blankets.
Tsunotarou gives you a questioning look as you rummage around in your closet. “They’re good friends. A little annoying at times, but they’ve always had my back.” You can’t count how many times they’ve slept at your place.
“They’re just as rowdy as they were in school,” you mutter as you head back down with two pillows and some blankets.
---
You can’t sleep. Tossing and turning, you finally settle on your back to glare at the ceiling. Ace and Deuce both snore loud enough to be heard from your bedroom. Tsunotarou had disappeared though you weren’t too worried. He would sometimes leave in the middle of the night, most likely to hunt, but he would always return by the time you got up.
Sitting up, you carefully make your way downstairs. “Maybe something to eat will help,” you mumble. You spot Ace hanging off the couch, so you know who lost the argument.
Just as you’re about to tiptoe around Deuce, you hear some loud clucking. Eyes furrowing, you wonder why the hens are up at this hour. Forgetting about your midnight snack, you head to the front door. Stepping outside, the air is warm but nice enough for early summer. Before you can move, you notice a figure standing near the chicken coop.
Not only is it strange to see a person at this time, but there’s also one other thing making you pause and rethink your plans. The moon hangs large in the sky and bathes the world in an ethereal silvery glow. The stranger stands there, head tilted upward to the sky, completely still.
And completely naked.
Slowly closing the door, you slide the deadbolt in place with a muffled click. Hopefully the naked stranger will leave. You doubt the deadbolt would keep anyone out if they actually wanted to break in. However, the act of using it at least gives you a small peace of mind.
Deciding the hens can take care of themselves, you head back to bed. You’re far too tired to deal with whatever nonsense is happening outside. As you drift off to sleep, your last thought is of Tsunotarou. You send a small prayer to whoever is listening that he’s alright.
However, you're woken by a loud crash. And then. “AHHHHHH!!!” “DO SOMETHING!!!”
Bolting out of bed, sunlight filters through the window. Despite feeling like you didn’t sleep at all, it’s morning. You grab the nearest object, a broom, before rushing downstairs. In your haste you nearly slip but manage to catch yourself. Wielding the broom, you’re ready to smack whatever intruder is causing trouble.
Instead of a naked intruder, you witness Ace trying to put out a fire with one of your spare pillows. Deuce is rushing over with a cup of water and dumps it on the flaming blanket. It goes out with a loud sizzle. Both boys let out a relieved sigh as you set the broom down.
“Mind telling me what’s going on?” you ask, not amused.
“Your overgrown lizard,” Ace jabs a finger at Tsunotarou, who is sitting on top of the table, “tried to set me on fire! He tried to murder me!!”
You glance at Deuce, who is still clutching the cup, then back at the frazzled redhead. “Did you do anything to him? Tsunotarou doesn’t just attack people out of nowhere.”
Ace rubs the back of his neck as he suddenly loses the fire in his eyes. “I…I might have said he got fat… And that you should get rid of him,” he admits. “B-But! I’m not wrong! He’s gotten bigger overnight. Soon he’ll be too big for your house!”
Your attention goes to the dragon, who sits patiently while watching the scene. You can’t deny that he’s gotten bigger. Now he’s the size of a large cat, possibly even bigger. “Do dragons usually have growth spurts?” you wonder aloud.
“I don’t remember reading about this at school,” Deuce says, nodding thoughtfully.
“Would you two think about the bigger issue!? He’s gonna grow too big and probably eat us all! That’s what dragons do!” Ace shouts, waving his hands around wildly.
Walking over to Tsunotarou, you gently stroke his head. “You wouldn’t do that would you?” He gurgles happily, leaning into your touch. “See. He wouldn’t eat us. We’re not very tasty anyways.”
Ace slaps a hand over his face. “(Y/N), he’s a dragon! Not a pet!”
“I know. And dragons are highly intelligent, which means they can understand us.” You chuckle when he rubs against your arm. “I’m pretty sure if Tsunotarou wanted to eat us, he would’ve burned us all alive by now.”
Deuce shudders. “Morbid…”
“Oh yeah!” You completely ignore the last comment. “There’s possibly a naked stranger wandering around this area. I saw him standing near the chicken coop last night.” Tsunotarou makes a noise in the back of his throat.
“...what?” Both boys stare at you before scrambling for the front door.
“Pretty sure he left already!” They don’t hear you as they race outside still in their sleepwear. Lifting Tsunotarou into your arms, you huff, “You’ve gotten heavier too. I’m not sure if you’ll be able to fit in my satchel now.” He only nuzzles your face with his scaly snout.
Coming outside, the hens are just fine. Tsunotarou flies out of your arms to grab the bag of feed. Deuce watches in rapt interest as he throws chicken feed in front of the hens. “He actually helps out?” he asks, surprised.
It really is a sight to see. “Yup. He’s been helping with small things here and there. He even hands me ingredients when I make potions.”
Once the hens are properly fed, he flies off to take care of Phillis. Despite her initial fear of him, Phillis seems to have gotten used to him. You two follow behind to Phillis's pen. Tsunotarou pats the top of her head while she eats.
“I never thought I’d see a dragon taking care of a goat instead of eating one…” Deuce looks both perplexed and awed.
“Hey!” Ace storms over with twigs and leaves in his hair. “What the hell, Deuce!”
“Huh??”
“I thought we were looking for the weirdo (Y/N) saw. Instead you leave me to do the work.” he grumbles.
Deuce gestures over to Tsunotarou. “I-I got distracted,” he sputters.
The redhead barely passes a glance over to the dragon. “Excuses like always, Deucy.”
“Did you find anything,” you ask, distracting Ace.
“Nah. Think whoever it was left.” Ace shakes his head.
Resisting the urge to say “I told you so” because he didn’t listen, you head back inside. “Come on, unless you wanna stay in your pajamas.”
While Ace gets cleaned up in the bath, Deuce helps with getting breakfast ready. “Hey, do you want us to ask Riddle to come over?”
You hand a plate to Tsunotarou to bring to the table.“Why?”
“To get some protective runes made around the perimeter of your place. Maybe it’ll keep the weirdo you saw out.” There’s a huff and light growl from behind him. “Uh… is he okay?” He inches away from the irritated dragon.
You scratch the top of Tsunotarou’s head, which causes him to almost vibrate. “Something wrong, Tsunotarou? Are you worried about the weirdo too?” You chuckle when he butts your arm with his head.
“You don’t seem too worried,” Deuce points out.
“Milk or orange juice?” You hold up two jugs.
“Milk, please.”
“I mean, I think if that stranger wanted to hurt us, he would've broken down the door. The deadbolt doesn’t do much,” you say while setting down glasses. “I’ll be fine, Deuce, so don’t worry.”
“...sure,” he agrees hesitantly. You can still see the concern on his face, but before you can say anything more, Ace comes down.
“Breakfast ready?” He slides into a chair looking around expectantly.
You hand him a bowl of fruit. “No thanks to you.”
Breakfast is a lively affair with the two extra guests. Ace and Deuce keep the conversation going as they regale you with their latest adventure in detail. It goes by far too quickly for your taste. Sure your days aren’t so quiet with Tsunotarou, but it does get somewhat lonely having a one-sided conversation.
“Well, Tsunotarou, it’s just you, me and the girls again,” you say with a deep sigh. You set him on the ground with a groan. “Okay, buddy, you’re a little too heavy to hold for long periods now.”
He lets out a pitiful sound before rubbing his head against your thigh. “Come on, let's get the rest of the day started.” As you go back into the house, Tsunotarou doesn’t immediately follow.
His sharp green eyes survey the area around your home. Tongue flickering out, a low snarl starts in his chest. Something catches his eye in the trees just beyond your fence. His back bristles as he opens his mouth. Green flames swirl around his mouth as his eyes narrow.
“Tsunotarou, are you still out here?” you call, coming back outside. Lifting him up, you don’t notice the way his gaze is focused on something else. “Are you mad that I can’t carry you?” you ask with a chuckle.
The dragon doesn’t respond as he rests his snout on your shoulder. As you close the door, his gaze never leaves the line of trees. There’s a flash of yellow before the door is firmly shut.
---
To your surprise Ace and Deuce return a few days later. And even more of a surprise, Riddle is with them. You nearly slam the door in their face when you see them. Nervously looking between the two adventures, you can feel heat prickling the back of your neck. Ace avoids eye contact while Deuce sheepishly mouths an apology.
Riddle is the first to speak up. “These two let it slip that you’re harboring a dragon. Being the head of the Heartslabyul Guild, I thought it would be prudent for me to check. Rule 134 states no unregistered magical creatures within 10 miles of the guild are allowed. They must be taken to the appropriate handlers.”
Casting dirty looks at the two, you open the door wider. “Please come in, Riddle.” You rather like having your door on its hinges.
As he enters, he looks around before his gaze zeroes in on the dragon resting on the couch. “It really is a dragon…”
Ace and Deuce carefully slink past you before you shut the door. “As you can see, Riddle, he’s not a danger to anyone.” You try to smile as innocently as possible.
He turns to you. “I realize the rules may not apply to you, (Y/N), since you’re not a part of our guild, but a dragon is dangerous regardless of its size. Ace mentioned he grew bigger last night. Who’s to say he won’t stop growing and then lay waste to everything?”
Said redhead suddenly has a keen interest in your hanging herbs. “Tsunotarou isn’t like that,” you argue. “He’s never hurt anyone and he’s been living with me of all people.” The magicless human who would be a prime target for magical creatures.
Riddle walks over to the now awake dragon. Tsunotarou regards him with keen interest unlike Ace and Deuce. They both size each other up. Riddle’s brows draw together as he continues to observe him.
“Everything okay?” you ask when the staring seems to drag on.
“Did you know there’s a curse on him?” He walks around the couch to observe Tsunotarou on all sides. The dragon doesn’t move an inch but seems fairly relaxed despite Riddle being a complete stranger.
You and the two boys share a look. “No, I didn’t. Is that why he’s so small?”
“Maybe.” He’s unsure. “It’s old magic and very powerful. I honestly don’t know what kind of curse it is.” Standing in front of Tsunotarou once more, Riddle sighs while touching his head. “This is more complicated than I thought. I’ll need to do some research before trying to determine the curse. I might have to ask Vil for his help on this.”
Sitting on the arm of the couch, you stroke Tsunotarou’s head. “Are you cursed?” you ask him. His head bobs up and down. “How come you two didn’t notice?” Your question is directed at the two bean spillers.
“They probably wrote it off as the creature's magical powers leaving a residue,” Riddle answers. He gives them a stern look. “They’ll need to go through more training later.”
Both stiffen as the color drains from their faces.
“So what now?”
Shaking his head, Riddle glances at his pocket watch. “I need to head back to the guild for tea. I’ll look into curses and consult Vil about this as well. For now, just make sure no one else sees him. We don’t want people to think a dangerous creature is on the loose and panic.”
“Alright. Thank you!” At least he’s going to try and help. You know Riddle could have decided Tsunotarou was a danger and taken him away.
When they’re gone, you plop down on the couch. Tsunotarou immediately climbs into your lap and makes himself comfortable. “Cursed huh?” You lift his face so you can look into his eyes. “Are you secretly a prince who got cursed by an evil sorcerer and only true love's kiss can break the spell?” you ask with a teasing grin.
He stares back before blinking slowly. Laughing at the ridiculous thought, you bop his nose affectionately. “I hope Riddle figures out your curse. I’d love to see your full form.”
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Puzzle Pieces Ch. 6
(Mafia!Miguel x Shy!Reader)
Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4, Ch.5
Warning: Eventual Smut so Minors DNI, mentions of abuse, blood, murder, language, fluff, bullying, mentions of sex
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
There was just a small ray of sunshine threatening to poke through your curtains. Wincing at the light, you whimpered as you started to wake up. Fluttering your eyes open, you slowly tried to adjust to the room's lighting. It took you a moment to realize that you weren't in your room, but still in the living room.
"Hm?"
Slowly sitting up, you rubbed your eyes, bobbing your head as you woke up. Feeling something poke against your panties, you looked down and immediately grew flustered. Miguel was sleeping on the couch, which meant that you slept on top of him all night.
Covering your face with your sleeves, you shyly looked down to see what was poking you. A squeak nearly escaped your throat as you quickly got up. Feeling something over your shoulders, you gripped onto Miguel's jacket and proceeded to cover your face with it. Shyly, you glanced towards Miguel's erection,
"Hm...."
You were debating on waking him, but he looked so relaxed. Still holding onto his jacket, you quickly went to get Miguel your pillow and blanket, wanting him to be more comfortable. Once fixing him, you quickly went to wash up and prepare breakfast.
Once washed up, you glanced at yourself in the mirror, trying to cover your flustered cheeks. Miguel actually stayed over the night. The two of you actually kissed. Pressing his jacket towards your lips, you couldn't help but smile.
Putting his jacket on, you giggle towards how big it was on you. It felt nice and cozy. Eddie never let you wear his stuff. Flinching at the thought, you shook the memories away and hurried to the kitchen. Miguel was a big man, he must eat a heavy breakfast. Hopefully, he will like your cooking.
---------
Miguel grunted softly as he slowly started to come to. He winced towards the light, hissing very quietly as he covered his face. With a heavy inhale, Miguel shot up, wondering why he was smelling food. Immediately, he recalled knocking out at your place.
Miguel sighed quietly as he spotted you making breakfast in your small kitchen. A smile against his lips as you wore his jacket. Miguel wasn't going to say anything about the horrid smell of bacon soaking into the jacket. No. He wasn't going to say anything because of how good you looked wearing his clothes.
He licked his lips, remembering how you tasted last night. Moving your blanket off him, Miguel tensed at his large erection. Did you happen to see it? Glancing towards you again, Miguel knew that if he were to masturbate here, it would not be quietly.
"Hm~ Hm~ Bacon and eggs~ Mhm~ Bacon and Eggs," You chuckled, singing quietly to yourself.
"Can I assume bacon and eggs are on the menu?" Miguel asked, watching you jump.
"M-Miguel! M-Morning! H-How...How did you sleep?" You asked him, quickly lowering the heat and hurrying to him. Once you were close enough, Miguel stole a quick kiss,
"Honestly, better than most nights," He told you, watching your cheeks turn bright red, "How did my little bunny sleep?"
"A-Ah...G-Good...S-Sorry if I'm heavy."
"Ha, heavy?" Miguel stroked your cheek, enjoying you nuzzle your head into his palm, "Nothing of the sort."
"Mhm~" You hummed happily, "Um...I have s-some spare bathroom amenities if you want to w-wash up...I...I uh, don't have any clothes for you...if...if you like morning s-showers." You stuttered, playing with his jacket sleeves.
"I'll just wash my face, thank you."
Miguel stole one more kiss from you before heading to the bathroom. He needed to take care of his little problem down there. Miguel let out a heavy sigh as he sat on the toilet seat and grabbed his cock in his hands. Just having you sit on his lap last night was such a turn on.
Miguel grunted lowly as he stroked faster. He couldn't believe what you were doing to him. Normally Miguel would never break like this whenever he fucked a woman. It was always just a quick relief, but you. Oh, you were tormenting him.
"Fuck...(Y/N)..." Miguel groaned, hoping that the running water was loud enough to cover his lewd noises.
"B-Breakfast is r-ready, Miguel!" You called out.
His name rolled off your lips so nicely. All you had to do was cry it out as Miguel stuffed your pussy with his dick. To have you putty in the palm of his hands.
"(Y/N)," Miguel groaned, cumming against his hand.
Taking a moment to catch his breathe, Miguel proceeded to clean up the mess he made. This was what you were doing to him. You were making the biggest and baddest mafia leader cum in your bathroom. You were breaking Miguel down.
---------
"Um...I-I wasn't sure how much you liked to eat...S-So...I hope this is a big enough...portion." You said, placing the plate in front of him, "I-I hope you like it."
Miguel didn't have the heart to tell you that he never truly ate a home cooked meal before. This would be the first in a very long time he had a meal in the comfort of a home. Also, you gave him quite a big portion. Miguel resisted a chuckle at your adorable attempt. You were already doing a good job as his future wife.
"Sit and eat with me." Miguel told you. You nodded, grabbing your small plate and sitting across from him at your small table, "Is that enough to fill you?"
"O-Oh, yes. Y-You know I don't eat much,"
"Hm," Miguel kept eye contact with you before you both started to eat, "You look good in my jacket. Keep it."
"O-OH! S-Sorry! I-It was just...so cozy...A-Are you sure?"
"That jacket will just be the first of many clothes of mine you'll wear," Miguel muttered lowly, watching you smile into the jacket sleeves, "Yes, amor (love)."
"Oh, um, I-I've been m-meaning to ask. W-What does...amor mean? A-And that other w-word you c-call me sometimes...con...conjeta?" You did your best to repeat. Miguel chuckled lowly,
"They're just my little nicknames for you. Nothing bad," He hummed, taking a bite of his food, "You're good at cooking."
"Oh, um...T-Thank you." You nibbled on your toast, glancing towards Miguel, "Um, about last night...W-Why were you asking me all of that stuff about...the mafia?"
Miguel avoided your gaze, knowing that he would cave. He had decided to hold off on telling you about that part of his life. Miguel wanted to take care of you first. He wanted to make sure that you were willing to stay with him no matter what.
"Yesterday at Central Park. It was a mafia attack, I wanted to make sure that you were okay. This city if filled with different mafia gangs. I'm sure you weren't aware of that when you arrived in this city."
"Oh...no...."
"I had a feeling." Miguel stood from his seat, taking his empty plate to the sink. You quickly followed, taking the plate from him, "What are you doing tomorrow night?"
"Hm? Oh, um...T-This will be my...first Halloween here...S-So I'm not sure," You admitted while doing the dishes.
Miguel stood behind you, watching you hesitantly roll your sleeves up. He furrowed his brows, seeing small cuts on your wrists. Inhaling deeply, Miguel looked away immediately. As much as he wanted to be angry, something else was boiling inside Miguel instead.
"I'll pick you up after work tomorrow. It's too dangerous to be alone here." His voice got lower as he started to walk towards the door.
You gasped, quickly finishing up and drying your hands. Rushing towards Miguel as he approached the door, you gripped his shirt slightly. Miguel slowly turned towards you, pity in his eyes. You frowned at the sight before hugging him,
"E-Even though...we got interrupted...I-I was really h-happy with our date y-yesterday!"
Miguel hung his shoulders before turning around to engulf you in his embrace. He lifted your chin slightly, giving you another deep kiss. He resisted a smile as he felt you go on your tippy toes to try and gain from height on him. You were too cute.
"Until tomorrow, mi amor (my love)."
"Mhpm~"
----------
The crimson sunset coated the city beautifully. It looked even better with a glass of vodka in Miguel's hand as he sat on the roof of his penthouse. A cold breeze blowing against his hair, distracting Miguel of all his frustrations.
After leaving your place, Miguel couldn't get the image of those scars out of his mind. Not even Alchemax nor his mafia business could erase those vivid images.
"(Y/N)," Miguel whispered your name ever so gently.
Someone as innocent as you should have never thought of such a thing. This emotion Miguel was feeling was sorrow. Never had he'd encounter such a thing close hand. Miguel found it strange. He could easily kill someone or stand before a dead body...
But the thought of you being one of them?
Sipping his liquor, Miguel kept repeating the image of you rolling your sleeves hesitantly. Something that you desperately wanted to hide. You were scared. Miguel didn't want you to be scared. He wanted to understand.
And the kill the fucker who hurt you.
"Lyla, I have a mission. I need that brat Miles on this case." Miguel spat as he took out his phone.
'Sure thing boss. Where shall I send him?'
"(Y/N)'s hometown. I need to know who her ex was and what exactly happened between those two."
"Ohhhhh~ You're serious about her~" Lyla giggled over the phone, "Does this mean I can finally kick out all those greedy sluts who keep knocking at the office?"
"I thought I already told you to do that?" Miguel shook his head slightly, "Actually, do whatever. I just need that information."
"Yes sir,"
Hanging up on his assistant, Miguel let out a heavy sigh. The stress of everything was getting to him, plus the holidays were around the corner. Miguel needed to relieve his stress, but he was waiting for you. He refused to see any other women if he was going to make you his wife.
"(Y/N),"
----------
You hummed quietly as you worked on another puzzle. The thought of yesterday still lingering in your mind. Miguel's treatment towards you and the kiss. He was such a great boyfriend. You were just worried if you were being a good girlfriend.
That was always your worry.
Clenching the puzzle piece in your hand, you tried to calm down and forget the past. Nothing you ever did was good enough. You were never a good girlfriend. Shaking as tears rolled down your cheeks, you rushed into your bedroom and engulfed yourself in Miguel's jacket.
The warmth, the coziness and most of all, his scent was still there. Wrapping yourself in his jacket started to calm you down. Slowly returning to your puzzle with Miguel's jacket on, you tried to go back to your mental safe space.
Miguel wouldn't be this nice to you if you weren't being a good girlfriend, right? Looking at your bookshelf full of puzzles, you wondered if Miguel would like to do one with you? Perhaps tomorrow, you could bring one along with your cookies you forgot to give him.
"Maybe...I should ask him?" You muttered, looking for your phone.
Once found, you first texted Miguel asking if it was okay to call him. You didn't want to be a burden after all. Within a second, Miguel was the one to call you.
"H-Hey!"
"Are you alright?" Miguel asked. You smiled into your sleeve,
"Y-Yeah, I just wanted to ask you...what we were doing tomorrow night? If...If it's alright...for me....to bring something."
"Oh, I should have explained better, sorry mi amor. The city is pretty dangerous on Halloween. I want you to stay over at my place so I can keep you safe. Bring whatever you need to feel comfortable."
"S-So a puzzle?!" You chirped, not even registering the part where you were staying over at his place.
Miguel chuckled over the phone, "As many puzzles as you want." He hummed.
You cheered quietly, "I can't w-wait! Goodnight, Miguel~"
"Goodnight, (Y/N)"
Once you hung up, you quickly went to your wall of puzzles, wondering which one Miguel would like. After deciding on a few, you finally registered what Miguel said. Your face turned bright red as you dropped the box on the floor,
"I-I'm s-staying over....at....at M-Miguel's?!"
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