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messylustt · 10 months

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𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐨 (𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥) — 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐡𝐞𝐦

miguel o’hara x fem!reader. a lot of words.

fic masterlist previous part pt eight next part

violence + blood + injuries; making out; suggestive content; my god whew — miguel’s hand raises to…what? you don’t know, because the spider society’s alarm bell is ringing. mayhem, fire, fights…masked men. you only want to help. when miguel confronts you about your ‘help’ clearly displaying anger and well…worry, something unexpected happens…you both getting as close as you did before…maybe closer?

You’re still staring at Miguel, staying close. Closer than you probably should be. And just as his hand reaches up to…to what? What was he going to do?

Because now the alarms are sounding. Followed by the cries of spider-people. You quickly whip your head to the door. And at first Miguel doesn’t look away from you. As if the word ‘emergency’ isn’t registering in his brain. No. He keeps his eyes on you, his lifted hand having to drop away as you rush to the door.

Miguel clenched his jaw, cursing the whole idea of having an ‘emergency bell’.

You’ve reached the door and then the hallway seeing mayhem. Everyone is running (or more so webbing) around, as a fire had started in the centre.

Miguel is soon joining you, just as you spot Miles and Hobie running up. “There you are, mate.” Hobie sighs in relief, grabbing your shoulders as he goes to move you.

“Wh-“ You look around. “What’s going on?”

Miguel narrows his eyes on Hobie’s hands. He knows now’s really not the time to feel petty, but part of him wants to break his ringed fingers. Hobie moves you with him further down the hallway. “If they recognise ya, they’ll wanna kill ya, luv. So, let’s maybe go…ay?”

Your eyes widen. “Kill?! What? Why?”

Miles is hot on both your heels. Miguel not far behind him. Then Miguel notices Miles, brows slightly furrowing. “Why are you here?” He asks, making Miles glance back.

“Uh…I was invited.” He says slowly.

“Uh huh.” He eyed the kid. “By who? Gwen?”

Miles gulps at the look Miguel is giving him. “Yeah…”

“Mm.” Miguel hums, looking distasteful as he walks past Miles, catching up to you and Hobie. “Now we’re letting anyone in?” He mutters to himself with a small scoff.

“Hobie, what happened?” You ask, as he continues to move you, his grip staying on your shoulders. He brings you to the tech room, it appearing empty. You look behind you at the way you came. “I didn’t know you could get here through there.” You mutter.

“Lyla.” You hear Miguel say, her appearing by his shoulder. “What is this?” Though the look Miguel is displaying makes you feel as though he already knows.

“An attack on HQ.” Lyla says, beginning to tap away at her little screens.

“Okay, there are way too many of them.” You hear Pav say, running into the room.

“We held them off as much as we could.” Gwen is close behind. “But their strong. Like freaky strong.”

“Y/n!” Pav exclaims, bringing you in for a hug.

“Oh—“ You weren’t expecting the hug, everything happening so fast, as you slowly pat his back.

“Where were you?” He sounds concerned.

“I was just…” you drift off, licking your lips. “Gwen, whose really strong?” You quickly look to her.

“You remember the men who attacked last time? The one’s with the masks?” Gwen asks, to which you slowly nod, catching on.

“They’re back?” You ask. Gwen nods.

“But they look different.” Gwen’s says—her having seen the ones who attacked you and the tech room when they were in pools of their own blood, curtesy of Miguel. “They’re…”

“Bigger.” You mutter, picturing the masked men that were in Miles’ universe. “Better suits? Strangely taller?” You ask her.

“Yeah…”

“They’ve upgraded.” You mutter.

“Which means they aren’t here for a tiny thief job.” Miguel says, walking past you all to one of the only computers that didn’t get smashed. He pauses though, licking his teeth, as he mutters rather quietly. “Does anyone know the password?”

You hold back your amused smile, as you walk up to the computer. You lean down, tapping at the keyboard. The screen glitches a little, but for the most part it works.

“You’re looking for the security cameras right?” You ask Miguel, still staring at the screen. Lyla was clearly too busy to compute it, so you tap at more keys, bringing up roughly twenty different security camera images.

You zoom in on the middle three, displaying the fire and the masked men. Miguel leans over the desk beside you, staring at the screen. “They started the fire by smashing the tech there.” You point to a far spot on the screen, noticing the destroyed screens and machines.

Everyone had begun to surround the computer. “Why do they want to destroy tech?” Pav ask, as you shift your gaze to Miguel.

His gaze is focused on the screen, and more specifically on one specific ‘masked man’ . You narrowed your gaze on him. Where had he gone earlier? Has he met this guy? How does he recognise him? They all look the same to you.

Green woven—now metal—suits, but still those handmade masks…except now with added metal elements scattered randomly. “Miguel.” You say, making him shift his gaze to you.

You tilt your head, silently communicating that you know somethings up. The raise of your brows asks him why he isn’t voicing anything.

Miguel’s teeth are grinding as he stares at you, silently communicating back. You narrow your eyes upon understanding his expression as one showing he’s not going to voice anything. If he doesn’t have to anyway.

Hobie stares at you two for a moment, blinking. “Can you two read each others minds now? Is that what we’ve been missin’?”

You shift your gaze to Hobie, who’s standing, arms crossed. Then a rather loud scream makes all your heads whip to the computer. A masked man is holding up a spider-person by the throat. But what makes you want to puke is the way his claw is beginning to stab into the spiders chest and running down, tearing skin and other bodily flesh.

Hobie, Gwen, Pav, and Miles are quick, rushing out of the room and assumably to the lobby, where the guy’s screams are easily heard. Other spider-people are trying to fight back, but the masked men seem to be knocking them down a little too easily. How are they doing that so easily?

You swiftly turn your gaze to the screen, eyes darting, as your chest heaved. “One of them took it, Miguel.” Lyla says, making you shift your gaze to him.

He’s moving away, most likely to get to the action to help as well. He meets your gaze. “Don’t you dare move.” He warns, before he’s slipping through the secret entry.

What did Lyla say? One of the masked men took what? You look back to the computer, wincing every time a spider-person got hit. Hard. You take note of one guy, his hits extra painful to watch—the one Miguel was staring at. You wanted to help. You wished you could help.

Then you hear the shuffle of metal making you spin. But your heart slows upon seeing Peter and Mayday. Wait…mayday?!

You rush forward, seeing Peter’s frantic expression. “Y/n, Thank god. I didn’t—I didn’t know what to do.” He gesturing to Mayday.

“Peter why is she here?!” You’re extremely worried.

“I didn’t know an attack was gonna happen! I would have left her home.” He’s looking behind him, clearly knowing he has to help, but still holding tightly onto an unbothered, babbling Mayday.

You quickly grab her, pulling her into your arms. “Go.” You say. “They need you out there. Go.”

Peter looks hesitant, and you understand why. “I’ll hide.” You say, knowing he’s skeptical because you’re well…human and could barely fight back against those men. Especially if spider variants are getting knocked out.

“They won’t find me. They won’t find her.” You hold Mayday close to you, as she rests her head on your shoulder, her smile still present.

Then Peter is nodding. He trusts you. He knows you’re not one to be stupid. “Go.” You say again, and he moves, rushing out towards the action.

Your heart is beating on overdrive. Holding Mayday tightly, you turned back to the screen. None of your friends were knocked out, injured or…dead. But just as you go to find somewhere to hide—as you had promised, you noticed something.

A small machine, with a switch, it’s almost unseeable through the screen, but you catch it. That isn’t the spider-society’s tech. That’s from the masked men.

No. It suddenly clicks. Why all the spider-people were getting knocked out easy, why they could never sense when a masked man was l close. It was as if someone switched off their spider-sense and strength.

You felt Mayday lean away, using her own spider webs to attach to a farther desk, yanking you along the ground. “Mayday.” You hold her back. Now was not the time. Why did Peter give her her own webs?

You rip the web, pulling her back. “Mayday.” You say making your look at you, hair curling around her face. “You have to stay still. Okay? Just stay in my arms. Then how bout we play a game after?”

Her face lights up. You’d played these games with her, the main two being learning fun handshakes, and the other was hide and seek. “Alright?” You ask gently. She excitedly jumps in your arms. “You gotta stay still, though.” She stills, wrapping her arms around your neck.

You sigh, turning back to the screen. You can spot Gwen looking confused, clearly feeling the effects of not having a spider-sense. Then you spot Miguel. He seems unaffected by the change, noticing the masked men a lot quicker than the other spider people. Then you shift your gaze back to the switch.

The spider variants didn’t know. Shit, shit, shit. You had said you’d hide, to keep Mayday safe. But you can’t just do…nothing. Then you decide something incredibly stupid, like beyond a seeable level of stupid that could turn out terribly.

But you had to try. Because they weren’t winning out there. You pull Mayday away, making sure she caught your gaze. “Okay, Mayday…we’re gonna a play a game now. How’s that?”

She nods quickly, clapping her hands. “Alright…you remember hide and seek?”

She again nods at you, slightly playing with your hair. “I’m gonna count. And you’re gonna hide. Somewhere good. Really good.”

She begins to try and get out for yours arms, eager to play. “Mayday. Find somewhere really good.” She’d always been very good at choosing a hard hiding place. It always took you forever to find her. And you were counting on that.

Then you reluctantly let her go. You wouldn’t be long. You wouldn’t be. “One…” you pretend to cover your eyes, as you watch her waddle away through the cracks between your fingers.

You were stressed. This plan couldn’t go wrong. You wouldn’t let it. “Two…”

You were gonna reach that switch. “Three…”

And now you can’t see Mayday, knowing what direction she ran in, and roughly where she had hid, so that you could rush back to her. You had to be quick.

You ran towards the secret exit, grabbing a loose pipe. You’d rather go out there with a weapon. Loud sounds reach your eardrums when you made it outside the room, but you continued to run.

You couldn’t slow, or take your time. You rushed past spiders, thankful none are noticing you. Just stay unnoticed—you keep repeating to yourself. You reached the middle of the mayhem. And god was it hectic.

You couldn’t let Peter see you. You couldn’t let Miguel see you. You couldn’t let any of them see you. It’s as if you never came here. You ran, skirting past broken tables and machines.

Everything felt hot, the fire still partially there. You held back a scream as a tumbling, fighting duo nearly barrelled into you—it managed to knock away your pipe, but you couldn’t stop to dwell. The switch, the switch, the switch.

You slid to your knees, rushing under a table. You’ve almost gotten punched, and you’re sure a cut is bleeding. But you run, you can now see the switch, and also your friends. They look terrible.

You grit your teeth moving quicker. You’re so close. And just as you think relief is near, a body hits you, knocking you down. You wince, looking up to see a masked man. He tilts his head, blood coating his entire claw along with his suit.

You shuffle back along the floor, trying to get to your feet. But his boot comes down onto your chest, making you wheeze. “Aren’t you that chick who got away?”

“Different chick.” You wheeze out, scrabbling to get his foot off you.

“Nah, I remember the poster they put up in the lab. Your face is recognisable.” He presses harder against your chest. Your hand scrambles to the side, against the dirty floor. Find something. Anything.

Your hand finally clasps around a loose peice of metal. You tighten your hold, the sharpness cutting your palm. You swing your arm across, stabbing it into the guy’s calf.

It goes in deep, resulting in him lessening his boots hold. You manage to roll away, swiftly getting to your feet. He goes to lunge for you again, but your arm shoots out in a punch, right across his face. He stumbles slightly back.

But you seem to be more hurt then him. “Mother fu—“ you hiss, holding your now bruised knuckles. “Shit…why did I do that?” You mutter to yourself.

But you try not to dwell on the pain as you run past him and the others, finally reaching the switch. One hand is bloody while the other is bruised and you’ve never felt more relieved. You push the switch, a small whirring sound reaching your ears.

Then suddenly you catch sight of all the spider-people’s spider-senses turning back on, practically animated. But your relieved smile drops as practically all the masked men shift there gaze to you. Shit.

With all the turned heads, you catch Hobie’s turn as well. His spider-sense now taking note of you. His eyes widen in a mix of confusion, worry and anger? Wow you’ve never really seen him angry before.

Miguel takes note of you now as well now, as you shift your gaze to him, pressing your lips together as you breathe through your nose. Miguel’s expression is downright terrifying. You watch as he snaps one the masked men’s necks as he moves towards you.

You gulp, noticing some of the masked men move to you as well. You swiftly grab the small switch machine, and begin to back out of the room, or at least try to.

And just as a claw reaches for your face, an orange web yanks you aside, nearly making you tumble, but a tight hand wraps around your upper arm. “What the fuck are doing here?” Miguel lowly hisses out.

“Miguel— I have to go.” Mayday. You had to get to Mayday.

“No, no you can’t just go anywhere. You were already practically an enemy to these guy, but oh now they want to kill you.” He says this while slicing his claws across one of the guys throats—having tilted his head back to display the guys bare neck.

“Miguel.” You hiss. “Let go. I have to go.” You rush these words out.

But Miguel didn’t want to let go. You were bleeding, bruised, and almost dead. “Why didn’t you stay put? Why didn’t you stay goddamn put?” He growls.

You’re breathing hard. You had to go, and you didn’t have the time to explain. So you do the best thing you can think of. “I’m sorry about this...”

Your hand had reached for something on the a table, a plate, another peice of metal, whatever it was you knock it across his face. Not to cut, or harm, just so that his grip would loosen around your arm.

And it does, leaving you room to run. And god did you run—fast. You skirted past fighting people, the spider variants finally knocking some of the masked men down, now that the switch was off.

You reached the secret entrance, rushing into the tech room. You kept the switch machine close to you as you rushed to Mayday’s hiding place. You tried to slow your breathing, not wanting to freak her out. You wiped your bloody hand on your pants, wincing as your cut rubs against the material.

You didn’t want to scare her.

You reach the small cupboard type thing, having to lift yourself up. She had clearly webbed herself towards it. But with you being taller than her you managed. You took a breath. Pretending that you had been playing the entire time.

“Oh, Mayday.” You sing songed quietly. “I wonder where you are?”

You neared the closed cupboard door, hearing a faint giggle. You sigh in relief at the fact that she’s still here. You whip the doors open and you hear a small squeak. You scoop her up.

“Found you.” You said softly, earning now huffing giggles from her. She was okay. She was okay.

But then your heart drops. You hear heavy scuffing boots enter the room. No. Please no. Without thinking you rush into the cupboard, shutting the door.

Mayday begins to babble on about something, but you put her head into your neck. “Shh.” You shakily whisper. “Shh.” You stroke her hair. She moves a little, but luckily she begins to relax in your arms.

You can hear the taunting boots near. And you hold your hand over your mouth, quieting your heavy breathing. Please stay quiet Mayday, please stay quiet—you think to yourself, holding her closer to you, as you slide to the floor of the cupboard. It only just fit you both.

Then the door is getting harshly pulled open and your eyes widen. No, no, no. But then just as the masked man comes into view, his body is getting harshly lifted, his feet raising as blood bleeds out from his stomach. Your eyes widen.

Then he falls to the side, revealing a heaving Miguel. Your head knocks back against the cupboard back wall, as you hold Mayday tighter to you. You couldn’t let her see. Any of the blood, you wouldn’t let her see.

Miguel meets your gaze, just as Hobie, Pav, Gwen, Miles and Peter rush to a stop beside him, all staring into the cupboard.

You begin to shakily stand, still holding onto Mayday for dear life. You were scared. Your adrenaline slowly disappearing.

Peter rushes forward taking Mayday from you. He notices there isn’t a scratch on her and Peter is beyond relieved. “Make sure she doesn’t…see.” You say, sounding somewhat out of it as you blink, so your eyes would stay open.

Then Hobie is slipping his arm around your midriff, supporting your legs, as you gulped down arising tears. You wouldn’t cry. Not in front of everyone.

“What the hell was that?” For once there is no joke in Hobie’s tone.

Your eyes a blurring, but you wanted to stay awake. You hated how much your body could exhaust. “You were supposed to stay up here.” Miguel is saying, his breathing still heavy.

You know that you arriving back to the tech room, alerted that now dead masked man of where you were.

For once Miguel doesn’t mind that Hobie is holding you. He’s helping you. And though Miguel would rather help you, his hands are covered in blood—Hobie having used his surroundings and web to mainly fight them, his hands being rather clean from the red.

You half heartedly chuckle. “You can just say thanks.” You meet his gaze, a small smile edging your lips.

“Are they…” You drift off, Gwen filling in.

“They left. They aren’t dead. Some of them are. But the others…left.” She says, making you nod.

“Thank god.” You mutter out, the pain finally feeling like it can catch up to you. “And fuck…” You slightly push off of Hobie, shaking your bruised hand. “When were any of you gonna tell me that punching someone really fuckin’ hurts.”

“Well, usually punching someone with a metal head tends to hurt.” Pav says, raising his brows slightly.

“Eh.” You chuckle, continuing to flex your hand.

;;

Miguel didn’t leave your side when you went to medical, you getting stitched, and mended.

“Don’t sleep in here.” He says, gazing around at practically every spider person. The medical was of course packed.

“But the fire reached my room—“

“Not mine.” Miguel says, already slipping his arms around your body—though he keeps his hands, for the majority, off of you. His hands were still covered in blood, though dry, meaning the blood wouldn’t taint you, he still couldn’t.

“That’s fine—“

“Shut up, and move.” Miguel wasn’t looking for your acceptance, taking you to his room.

;;

Once inside, he shuts the door, leading you to sit on his bed. As you did, he had slightly begun to pace the length of his room.

“What are you doing?” You ask, watching his stressful state. “Can you stop?”

He shifts his gaze to you, semi stopping. His body was still tense, his jaw clenched. “Sit.” You say, gesturing to the chair. You narrow your gaze until he obeys, moving the chair to face you, as he took a seat.

Glass still slightly littered the ground, the slight scratch marks on the chair staying easily visible.

You noticed for a moment that he couldn’t look at you. His gaze instead getting caught up with his wrist. You glanced down at it, noticing a thin…bracelet? It was covered in blood, and he had begin to fiddle with it, making your brows furrow.

“What’s that?” You ask. But he still doesn’t meet your gaze, clenching his hand into a fist.

“Nothing.” He says. But it wasn’t nothing of course. It was your bracelet, the one he had found in your rooms doorway, back in your universe when you had went missing.

“I didn’t know you were one to wear jewellery.” You speak light heartedly. But he barely reacts. “Miguel.” You say, sighing. “Can you at least look at me?”

And it’s the slight sadness in your voice that makes him. He looks up and you’re shocked to see a million different emotions swirling in his eyes.

“Why did you do that?” He asks, now not looking away from your eyes.

“What?”

“That.” He hisses lowly. “You were supposed to stay in the tech room.”

“Miguel you do realise that I couldn’t have just stood there and literally watched…right?” You ask, seeing his gaze flicker everywhere on your face. “I saw something important, and thought i should help.”

“But you shouldn’t have.” He says.

“Yes, I should have…” You stand up now. Miguel moves to stand also, but you hold your hand out, making sure he stayed seated. “I want to help Miguel. I want to be of help.”

“Yeah, well you being of help nearly got you killed.” He snarls.

“Exactly the same as all of you.” You say, stepping closer to his seated self. “You guys go through so much dangerous stuff all the time. And finally when I can actually help you hate me for it.”

“Because you’re—“

“A weak human, yeah I got it. But I wanted to help. And It worked…none of you guys are dead!” You exclaim, breathing heavy.

Miguel stares up at you, his breathing close to matching yours.

“That is all I’ve ever wanted to do, Miguel.” You say. “Help.”

“You almost died out there.” His voice had begun to soften.

“And so did you!” Yours hasn’t yet, though.

He couldn’t resist. Slipping his hand under your thigh he pulled you towards him, making your body tumble. He caught you by a second grip on your other thigh, making sure you landed in a straddle over his lap. His legs were still a fraction spread, which made yours naturally spread further around him. This satisfied Miguel’s want to keep those legs spread. Wide and open for him.

He pulled you even closer, your body sliding along his thighs, right up against him. Your heart was beating like a drum in your ears. You couldn’t think. You couldn’t speak. All you could do was breathe and stare. Stare at Miguel’s piercing red eyes that now practically told you everything he hadn’t voiced yet.

Miguel stared at you, his eyes seeming to hood over on their own. You were yet again, so close. He could taste your breath. And he wanted to. God did he want to.

He’s sure it would taste so sweet. You would taste so fucking sweet. His clawed hands stayed wrapped around your thighs, as he began to lean in, his eyes focused on your freshly wet lips, your nervous habit. You were nervous. He met your gaze once more, before darting his eyes down again. He couldn’t stop leaning in.

Your heart has stopped, having been beating rapidly in your ears. You want to gulp down your nervousness but Miguel is now so close to your neck.

His warm breath fans over your skin as his mouth opens a fraction. His hands ran up your body, to grip around your waist. Then he leaned in, his lips attaching to the side of your neck. You heard him hum, the vibrations sending shivers up your spine.

His hands begun to slip under your shirt, the feel of your bare skin making him go practically insane. He couldn’t believe it. He began to slowly litter small kisses—at first—his breathing growing heavier and heavier.

Your chest was heaving as he pulled you tighter to him, his lips now pressing harder against your skin. When they turned open-mouthed you could feel the drag of his fangs, his tongue coming down to soothe forming bruises.

Your head had begun to roll back, your hands tightly gripped onto Miguel’s shoulders. “I couldn’t let you die, cariño.” He whisper-groaned into your neck. His panting breath only occasionally felt, because he couldn’t back away from your skin.

His kisses began to lead up to your jaw. You were flushed, your body hot, everywhere. “Miguel—“ you breathe out.

“Shh, I just wanna…I just…” but he couldn’t even finish the sentence as he reached to hover over your lips. His hand slipped to the back of your neck, his claws embedding themselves into your hair, as his other hand tightened a fraction around your waist.

Now you’re breathing hard, your eyes slightly glazed over, your mind utterly dazed as you stared at Miguel. “I just want to…”

You gulp. “Want to what?” You quietly asked, your own eyes flickering to his lips.

“I— carajo.” Was the last word he managed before his lips found yours, your head knocking back. Miguel wrapped his lips around your bottom, breathy groans easily escaping him, as he pulled you impossibly closer. His heart was beating on overdrive, nearly at a concerning tempo as he lapped at your mouth.

And god did you taste sweet. So fucking sweet. And he gets to feel you—have you. He doesn’t have a care in the world as long as you stayed this close. Right against him letting him keep you this close. Your tongue dragged across his bottom lip, soon finding his tongue. His head moved to push further against yours, as he swirled his tongue around your mouth.

Then your body slightly jolts. His hand that was gripping your waist had tightened to a point that his claws had cut you a fraction. Miguel immediately let your waist go, realising that his body’s reaction—tightening around you, was to make sure you wouldn’t leave. “I’m—“

But you’re cutting him off with another kiss, slightly raising on your knees, so that his head had to tilt up to stay kissing you. His hands slipped to wrap around your raised thighs. “Tell me you weren’t gonna apologise.” You spoke to his lips, leaning away a fraction.

But Miguel eagerly chased your mouth, managing to pull your head back down, with a swift grip to your hair. “Miguel—“

He shook his head, his lips brushing against yours. “If I say no, will you keep kissing me?” He tilted his head, lips still lightly brushing yours, as his tongue came out to lick your top lip. “Mm?”

“Yea—“ but Miguel cuts you off, kissing you hard as one of his hands stoked up and down your thigh. “Then I’m not sorry at all.” He muttered between kisses. He was addicted. That’s the simplest way to put it. Utterly addicted. “Dios…I’m not sorry.”

Your hands slipped around his neck, beginning to play with the ends of his brown hair, your fingers soon sinking to softly grip the strands. A breathy moan escapes Miguel’s lips at the feeling of your fingers, his mouth opening against your own. A small forming smile edged your lips at the reaction.

“Shut up.” He whispered, smashing his lips back to yours. His kisses had grown even more heated—if possible—spreading across your cheek, his nose brushing against your hair. “Dios, y/n, can I touch you…mm por favor…?” He asks, trying to pull your thighs back down onto him.

But you held your own, staying just out of reach—legs either side of him on the chair. When Miguel would much rather you pressed against him. Of course he was hard, aching almost painfully. “Y/n.” He lowly growled out.

You grabbed his chin, lifting his head up, as you teasingly pecked his lips. “I’ve never seen you beg, give me a moment to enjoy it.”

Miguel clenched his jaw as he harshly pulled your thighs further apart, making you gasp, landing right on top of him. He moved his hands to your hips, keeping you still, as his head slightly leant back at the feeling. “Mm…that’s it…” He whispered out.

You could feel his bulge right under you, making your core ache. Now you felt hot. And as you looked at a breathless Miguel, his chest heaving mismatched you couldn’t help but begin to slightly move your hips.

Miguel’s breathing hitches, his hands gripping your waist. “Y/n…”

“Shh.” You partially mocked, earning a small growl from Miguel. “Didn’t you say I had to do anything for you?” You moved your hips along him, grinding torturously. “This seems like it would certainly help.” Your tone is breathy, as your hips movements sends jolts through you both.

“For a…mission.” Miguel remembers the start of the deal—the conversation—correcting you, through heavy breaths. God, what were you doing…keep doing it.

“Which loosely means for you.” You copy his previous words.

His head slightly falls back. “Mierda, cariño…”

You go to place your hands on his chest, when his head comes back up, his grip slipping from your waist to your hips and managing to stop you. He leans towards your ear. “But do you really think I’m gonna let you grind on me like that? Make me pathetically reach my high with clothes…still on?”

Your breathing hitches. His hand reaches up your shirt again, but pauses by the side of your waist. Then before you know it, Miguel’s holding your thighs—wrapped around him—as he stands. You quickly wrap your hands around his neck thinking you would fall.

Miguel chuckles at the reaction, instead, effortlessly walking with you towards his bed. He leans forward, resting you down as his hands came to cage you in. You’re resting on your elbows, pushing a little higher up. Miguel leans even more forward, so that you’re forced to lean back with him.

“Lie back…eso es (that’s it)…that’s ma’ girl.” Miguel breathes, as your head rests back against his sheets. My girl. His girl. All of Miguel’s previous loud voices, the ones that had quietened when you hugged him have become one. Repeating the words—my girl, my girl, my girl.

my god, that was a trip. and finallyyyy! AHHH — I hope this is what you guys expected and hope you all liked it

I promise promise promise, I will carry on this smut on the next part <33 it was just getting so long—I couldn’t stop writing (I’m sorry guys I gotta keep eedging ya)

plus since it’s the last part (part 9) next, everything will be concluded, and all mysteries solved! coz that’s just plain cruel if I utterly leave you guys hanging

taglist: @dangerousdreamkitty @ale-maral @inosukesweirdwife @flooftoof @cynicallyaestetic @silassinclair @mariiyoushi @ilovedilfjake @toastlover21 @wlellsl @k1rbbo @bitchotine @guacam011y @blnk338 @wolfiepirate @kurxxmi @corpsebridenightamare @ohantonia @yunonaneko @irenered-20 @z3r0art @sunflowercandie @perilous-pasta @gloriouskryptonitecrown @whyamistillhere78 @ritzzzsblog @mm1sta @tealcoloured-murder @aweebsimp101 @livelaughlaurv @s0dium @roguepancake @sunshiines-stuff @internal-soundtrack @oscarisdaddy69 @clairacassidy @captainquake42 @nanaloverz @ilyless @sindulgent666 @shine101 @thebadasssass @hibeejibees @nirishin @ily2lia @lillunna @cinnamoncattie @futuristicpandakid @maroonobserver @thatsopanu @edgyficuselastica @kittekat420 @stararctic @maxi-ride @renn-pumkin-head @scaraza @justanotherkpopstanlol @fauxizs @cloudsandrenoswife @ilmovor @larissa-lolll @elliemm @httpkiyoomi @j2warren @arquiiva @ilovemiguelohara @a-monster-can-filled-with-cum @fandom-gal44 @elwyn7 @albiebright

taglist #2 taglist #3 taglist #4 taglist #5 taglist #6 taglist #7

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todomochi-uwu · 6 months

Text

Who (1/?) -J.Y & S.M

Pairing: Poly! Jeong Yunho x reader x Song Mingi

Genre: Angst, Smut

Warnings: This content is for a mature audience

Synopsis: You can't remember when was the last time you spent time with them, the last "I love you", the last time any of them kissed you.

Other chapters: Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee ☕

"Mingi, please. I think we should talk; I don't feel good and…" He was quick to cut you off.

"Y/n not right now, I'm tired."

You are always tired these days…

"Yunho, love do you want to go out and check out that new cafeteria? I heard they have…" He was quick to cut you off.

"Y/n not right now, I'm busy."

You are always busy these days...

Things haven't been the same in a while, always in a rush, always in a mood. You can't remember when was the last time you spent time with them, the last "I love you", the last time any of them kissed you. It was a type of routine you had grown accustomed to, and even if it was killing you inside, the idea of being without them was way worse than the pain of their neglect. Cold, endless nights laying in a bed that was way too big for you; tasteless dinner plates that would end up in the trashcan or at the back of the fridge rotting. A home that was crumbling from its foundations, one that you had so desperately tried to patch up and fix by yourself. But in the end, you just had to face the cruel reality, that they don't care. You were not a priority; your relationship was at the bottom of their list.

That's how you ended up at Chan's apartment, in the middle of the night, with so much as your phone in your pocket and your heart in your hand. He had been your main support the last weeks, anything you wanted, anything you needed, no questions asked. Whenever you woke up crying, whenever you broke down in the middle of the day, Chan was always there to comfort you. And so, you laid there, in his chest, the aftermath of a movie night in which you had only cried twice, an important milestone.

The constant buzzing in the pocket of your pyjamas was making it quite hard for you to continue sleeping. You knew exactly who dared bother you so late at night, it had been the same callers every single night for the past month.

"Don't answer it." Chan's groggy voice filled your ears. He was right. You declined the call and turned off your phone.

But said-call had already done its job, you couldn't stop thinking about the phone, well the people behind it. Your phone was full of texts and missed calls, eight people behind them, because their friends were loyal like that.

They are so sorry.

Please talk to them.

Yunho is drowning himself in work.

Mingi doesn't even talk to us.

Funny it is. A few weeks ago, it seemed they could live perfectly fine without you; they could go on with their day without even glancing your way. You gave them every single piece of your being just to get crumbles in return. But at the same time, your heart is weak, it can’t help but break every time you read one of their texts, wondering if they miss you that much, if they are sorry, if maybe, just maybe, you should go back.

“Y/n… you are overthinking again.” Bang Chan said, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“I know, I just feel bad, Chan. Maybe I overreacted, maybe if I tried a bit harder to talk to them…” There you were again, trying to justify their actions. Chan gave you the same stern look he had been giving you for weeks, every time you blamed yourself.

He got up, not mentioning the subject anymore. Tired of going on about the same subject, “Hey, are you hungry? I can make you something or we can order in.”

It would be a lie to say you were not enjoying Chan’s presence. Having someone to talk to, someone to have a meal with, even someone who sits next to you without being on their phone or computer, you miss not feeling alone. And even though you were heartbroken, you felt warm on the inside.

-------------------------------------------------------

While you might be doing somewhat okay, the other parts of your relationship were not. The house was in complete silence, no matter the hour, no matter the day, no one would dare say a word, their mouths too busy sobbing every single time they remembered their sins, taking you for granted, neglecting you, breaking you.

Yunho would keep himself busy at the hospital, the idea of going back to a broken home simply made him nauseous, and even if the lack of food and the stress were killing him, he much rather endure that than face the harsh truth. Mingi wasn’t any better, endless nights spent in the office, acting as if he was reviewing cases, but the reality was that he just wanted a place to cry without anyone noticing him. Even the love between them was running cold. Fight after fight, they spat cruel words and thoughts trying to get all the hurt and anger out of their chests, blaming themselves, blaming each other. How did they not notice things were so wrong? How could they let things get so wrong?

“Oh, don’t act as if I'm the only one who wasn’t here, you slept at the office almost every day. I came home late, but you didn’t even come at all.” Yunho said, venom in his voice and a glass of whiskey in his hand.

Mingi scratched his forehead in frustration, he could feel the bile going up his throat. “Forgive me for trying to pay the bills, someone has to pay for the house, the student loans, the fucking food that’s on the table.”

“Fuck off, don’t you dare say I’m not bringing any money. Besides, you know that this is temporary while I finish my residency…”

And there the cycle began once again, a screaming match of arguments that never went anywhere, masking the true cause of their pain. Tears ran down their faces, their voices broke down more and more with each word they let out, Yunho's body trembled so much it hurt, while Mingi’s chest felt as if it was about to explode.

“I’m not okay, Yunho.” It was the first time any of them said it out loud, his voice was much raspier and heavier than the usual one.

“I'm not either, Mingi.” He whispered, fearing he would break down even more if he admitted it much louder.

“She left three weeks ago.”

Yunho could only nod.

“She’s not coming back, is she?”

“I don’t know, Mingi.”

#yunho angst #yunho smut #yunho x reader #mingi smut #mingi x reader #mingi angst #jeong yunho #song mingi #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez angst #ateez

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shadowandlightt · 3 months

Text

Of Nightmares and Memories | eight | Azirel X reader

Series Warnings: Kidnapping. Mistreatment. Cursing. Pining. Violence. Depression. Talks of suicide. Eventual smut

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven

A/N: I'm very nervous about this part and the ones coming after it. I hope you still enjoy it, even though it's probably what you're expecting.

When the darkness faded, all you could see was the Moonstone Palace that you’d spent so much time in as a child. You could finally fill my lungs with air, a sweet jasmine scent floating in it. Feyre was gently laid on a couch in the center of the great room. Mor, who didn’t seem to know what to do, ran forward and wrapped her arms around you, squeezing you so tightly the newly fresh air was knocked from your lungs.

“You were dead,” She cried, “We mourned you. For years we mourned.”

“I’m sorry,” You choke out, “I tried, for years I tried.”

But then you gave up. And you accepted your fate in the Spring Court. You didn’t fight hard enough when Amerantha still had control. Or in the days following her fall. You could have made it, surely you could have. You thought you could winnow short distances at that point, though you hadn’t tested it. You should have been able to jump from place to place until you made it to the border of the Night Court. Until you made it to safety. But you didn’t. You threw up in the rose and gave up.

You gave up on them.

Dread filled you. Because how could you explain everything that happened to you? How could you explain that you’d given up on ever seeing any of them again, and that your only thought had been of death. Because then, maybe the Mother would grant you access to your own mother. Maybe she would allow you to look after Rhys and the others from whatever world exists beyond your own.

Guilt swirled in with the dread. How could you tell your brother that you’d been praying for death for hundreds of years? How could you tell him that your mother didn’t beg for herself that day, or her wings, she begged for you. Begged for them to spare you and send you on your way. Begged as they started to cut into your back, leaving behind two long and ugly scars.

How could you explain any of it?

“How are you alive?” Rhys questioned, pain lingering in his eyes.

“Tamlin begged for my life that day,” You reply, feeling an icy cold settle over you.

You hadn’t spoken of it. Hadn’t voiced what happened that day. Saying it now makes it all too real. Before you could imagine that your mother was still alive, flying around Valaris, but now….now saying it aloud you knew she was gone. You could feel it deep in your bones.

“He begged his father and brother, said it would be better to keep me as a bargaining chip,” You explain, “He ended up just keeping me as a toy, after everything happened.”

Then a thought accrued to you. Tamlin was so desperate to get Rhys to release Feyre from their bond, he said he would do anything. Perhaps he would have let you go…perhaps he would’ve finally used you as a bargaining chip against your brother.

“He probably would’ve offered me on a silver platter for you to release Feyre,” You laugh.

“All these years, you’ve been right there?” Rhys asked, voice cracking.

It's been years since you’d seen him cry. The stone exterior was crumbling, leaving behind a broken boy who lost his mother and sister in the same day, only to have one returned to him. You want to move to comfort him, but you’re locked in where you stand. As if there is a spell over you, keeping you from moving.

You’re afraid to move, truly. Because if you move you might wake up and find that this is all a dream. A beautiful and cruel dream. So you stay put as the tears fall from both yours and Rhys’ eyes.

“All this time,” You reply, “I’ve been locked away in the Manor House. I was there that night that you and father came, and I was there when you first met Feyre, and every moment after that.”

“Calanmai,” he says suddenly, “You were there that night. Gods above, you spoke to me.”

The tears are falling harder now. Unstoppable against the emotions you both feel. Mor is still standing close to you, you could almost lean against her for support. But she’s somehow also giving you and Rhys your space to work this out.

“I was praying to the Gods and to the Mother and to the Cauldron that you would be able to see beyond the glamor and see me,” You verify, “That’s why I said I was like the wind, I hoped you would hear it and realize.”

His head shook, “I couldn’t allow myself to believe. I heard you, Mother I heard you, but I couldn’t believe it. You didn’t smell like you.”

“Scents change, besides, I was wrapped in Lucien’s clothing to disguise my scent,” You explain, “I expect I smelled like Lucien for a long time. He was the only constant visitor I had for years.”

“Y/N-” His voice broke as he surged forward to wrap you in his arms, “My sweet baby sister. I’m so sorry.”

You shake your head. If anyone should feel guilty about all of this, it should be you. You should have fought harder that day. Even at such a young age, you could have misted all of them if you really wanted to. But you’d never killed another fae before. Never killed another living thing. So you hesitated and that was long enough for them to overpower you both and kill your mother. They’d come for Rhys that day, but they got a better prize in the form of the Princess of the Night Court.

“No, you don’t get to feel bad about this,” You warn him, “You are not to blame.”

“If I hadn't trusted him…if I would’ve just met you both in the woods thay day,” He all but cries out.

“No, it’s no one's fault but Tamlin and his family’s,” You stay sternly, hoping maybe one day you’ll believe it.

Maybe one day you’ll finally believe that you aren’t to blame for your mother’s death. That none of it was your fault. She had no real power of her own, no way to protect herself. It was on you to do that. It was Rhys’ responsibility to protect you both. Not that you would ever, ever blame him for what happened. He couldn’t have known what Tamlin was planning with his family. He couldn’t have known that his friend wanted him dead because they saw him as such a threat.

Suddenly your body felt heavy and weighed down. You couldn’t move even if you wanted to. All you felt was pure exhaustion. Your eyes flutter and Rhys seems to notice the change in your body.

“You’re exhausted, aren’t you?” he questions.

You try to smile, but you know it doesn't reach your eyes, “I don’t sleep well anymore.”

He sighs deeply and wraps an arm around you as he slowly leads you towards the bedrooms, “I can have a tonic brought up for you.”

“No need,”You shake your head, “I’m sure just being back here will put me at ease.”

You wished you believed the words you were saying. But you didn’t. You weren’t sure that anything would put you at ease again. All you could feel was anxious energy swirling in your belly. Threatening to boil over at any moment. You couldn’t fully wrap your mind around the fact that you were free. Couldn’t fully understand that you were here, and safe, and with your family again. Or at least part of them.

“Cassain and Azirel won’t know what to do with themselves,” Rhys lets out a small laugh as he wipes at his eyes.

“You can’t tell them,” You halt suddenly, “Oh, Rhys, you can’t. I’m not ready.”

“Don’t you want to see them again?” he questions, brows drawing in.

“Of course I do, but I-” You shake your head, feeling your whole body start to shake.

How could you explain it to him in a way that would make sense? How could he understand where your head was at? Seeing them would push you over the edge. Seeing Az…knowing his shadows would tell him your darkest secrets…you couldn’t handle it. You couldn’t handle seeing him disappointed in you…disgusted with you. It would break you in more ways than Tamlin ever could.

To lose Azirel was like to lose the air you breathe. It would kill you to lose him. You could feel it deep within you. You wouldn’t survive Azriel turning his back upon you. So it was best that he just didn’t know you lived. Maybe you could live out the rest of your days in a cabin in the mountains. Yes…that would be good. You were used to the solitude anyway.

“You can’t tell them,” You begged your brother, “Please Rhys. I can’t bear them knowing.”

“But Y/N, they’re our family,” He tried to reason with you.

“Please Rhys,” you shake even harder, “I can’t bear it. I’m not ready.”

“Okay,” He finally relented, “Okay. I won’t tell them.”

Your body sags with his agreement. Your breath comes out in heavy pants, because your lungs seem to be constricting and not allowing the proper amount of air into them. Everything just feels wrong now. Nothing feels right. You feel as if you shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be allowed to have a moment of happiness with your brother.

You shouldn’t be allowed happiness when it’s your fault that your mother is dead. You should have done more to save her that day, instead of going limp in the arms of Tamlin’s brothers. You should have done everything in your power to save her. Instead you let her die, and you still live. It would have been better if you just died that day.

“Here we are,” Rhys said, unaware of the thoughts you were having, “Try to sleep. I’ll come check on you in a while.”

“Okay,” You sigh, pushing the door open, “Rhys?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Little Star. Now sleep, before you drop in a heap on the floor.”

You couldn’t sleep though. No matter how hard you try. Because all you could think of was how it should have been you to die. It should have been you, and not your mother. She could have helped Rhys with his transition into High Lord, she could’ve been there for Cassian and Azirel, who desperately needed a mother.

But instead you lived. And now you’re too cowardly to tell them that you lived. Too cowardly to ask to return home to Valaris. Too cowardly to do anything.

Rhys didn’t come back for hours, when he did you pretended to be asleep. All the while tears quietly slid down your cheeks. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Your life wasn’t supposed to happen like this. What did you do to make The Mother punish you so?

“I’m taking Feyre to Valaris,” He spoke, somehow knowing you’re awake, “Please consider coming with us.”

“No,” You say firmly, not rolling over to see him, “I’d like to stay here.”

“It’s your home, Y/N,” He pleaded, “You can’t hide from it forever.”

“I can’t go back Rhys,” You can’t explain it to him. He would never let you out of his sight if he knew.

“Please consider it,” He begs, “Please, Little Star, I don’t want to be separated from you again.”

“Then don’t leave,” You snap at him.

“You know I have to go back.”

“Then take her and get out,” You snarl, “I’m not going back.”

“Y/N-”

“Go Rhysand!” You yell, reaching for anything to throw at him.

You can feel yourself losing control of the little power you had access to. Darkness seeping from your body. There were no stars in this darkness, only a black void. Much like the cocoon that Feyre created. Only this was something you never did. Your darkness always had stars, but now you aren’t sure if you could conjure them even if you tried.

That light inside you had been snuffed out long ago. It was only now that you realized it. It was only now that you accepted it as the truth. Your light was gone, the stars were gone. You weren’t Rhy’s Little Star anymore. You were something worse. Something made hard from years of captivity and cruelty. You weren’t sure you would even recognize yourself if you looked in the mirror.

“Fine,” You’d never heard him sound so defeated. You were sure if he had wings they would be dragging on the ground as he turned to leave your room. He stopped at the door and looked back at you, “I’ll send Mor to check in on you.”

“Don’t bother,” You mumble, “I’ll be fine.”

Only you wouldn’t be fine. You weren’t fine. And You weren’t sure that you ever would be fine again. The darkness threatened to swallow you whole and you wanted to let it. You wanted to give into it and let it take all that you were. Maybe it would be better that way. Easier.

When your door clicks shut and you hear Rhys’ footsteps moving away from you, you allow yourself to fall apart. When the house goes silent you let out an anguished cry loud enough to almost shake the whole mountain. Life wasn’t supposed to happen this way. You were supposed to be overjoyed at being freed, not whatever this is.

You feel as if you’re going to rip yourself apart, and for a moment you wish you would. You wish death would just come for you. You yearned for the sweet release that death would provide. Because at least then you might be able to find peace.

Tag List

@historygeekqueen @hnyclover @saltedcoffeescotch @queerqueenlynn @thelov3lybookworm @one-big-fangirl @witchymomfrien @wallacewillow0773638 @sstrohma @maddybraps @minnieoo @mariahoedt @amara-moonlight @st0rmyt @annamariereads16 @hunterksmith @sleepylunarwolf @sh4nn @emryb @mikatanazaki @nickishadow139 @ilovespideyyy @mysticalfuncollectorus @judig92 @tele86

#acomaf #acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #acotar fic #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger

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lightofthemoonglow · 7 months

Text

kinktober day seven and eight

Virginity | Waxplay | Stuck in Wall

Breeding | Gore | Master & Slave

third person reader because that is how it turned out oops

Sequel here

Thomas Hewitt

The day had finally come.

The wedding dress is older than the bride. The bride is considered an adult in every part of the world, in basically every sense. And yet she still wears a dress that Luda Mae had brought for herself a long time ago, back when she had hopes for a whole other life that had never come to pass. It’s obvious why she’s doing this, but it’s harmless in comparison to everything else about the situation.

One interaction had been all it had taken for this deal to be worked out. The bride had come from a family of carnival workers that had passed through Travis County that had decided to stick around, her mother becoming friendly with Luda Mae despite the two of them living seemingly very different lives. All the girl had done was shyly ask Tommy about his job at the slaughterhouse as she offered him a bowl of the chili she had brought over. This was some good meat. I bet you had something to do with it. And Luda Mae had noticed the shift in her son’s body language, how he wasn’t as on guard as he normally was for a moment.

It had started as joke between the two mothers. And then they had started seriously discussing it. It made sense. The pool of candidates was already small and neither of their children were exactly…popular. The bride had struggled to finish school after fighting tooth and nail to get in. Thomas had dropped out. Their families were already close. And then, the tornado happened, killing the bride’s father. It was as good a time as any, they had figured. The town was dying slowly, the writing was on the wall. They needed to make it happen before the bride left town for good.

And so, they had wound up in the backyard of the house, the town preacher pronouncing the young couple man and wife, on edge due to the gun that Charlie had aimed at him, ready to pull the trigger if this marriage wound up not being true in the eyes of the lord. While he didn’t believe in that shit, Luda Mae did and his sister’s word was law in their home. The bride was a vision in antique white, her voice trembling as she said ‘I do’. Thomas only grunted in response, Charlie snapping ‘the boy damn well does!’ when the preacher tried to get the larger man to speak.

“I’m glad it’s you,” Luda Mae says to the bride after the cake has been cut and everyone is milling about the yard, the preacher nowhere to be seen. He would never be seen again, but no one would notice or care. “You always had a kind word for my boy.”

And for the first time since her hesitantly uttered vows, the bride speaks. “Of course. He’s a good boy. This was all just a little fast, Mrs. Luda Mae.” But that was intentional, something she would realize later. The mother of the bride had all but dragged her down the aisle. The woman had cried, wailed as she told her daughter that she need to do this, so she could be taken care of, implying that it wouldn’t be long until the bride’s parents were reunited.

After the party, the happy couple was led upstairs, where they were to stay all night. “I want a grandbaby by next spring,” Luda Mae instructed. It wasn’t the wistful dreaming of a woman who yearned to more little ones to spoil. Well, it was, but her tone was that of an order. They were going to grow the family, one way or another.

The room was dim, the sun peeking through the curtains. Thomas makes no move to take off his mask, choosing to just stare at his new wife as she walked towards the bed. The dress is pulled off, revealing a white slip covering her everyday undergarments. She folds it up, so it can be put away in the morning. Maybe it will even be used again one day. The sun shines down on her as she lays on the bed, waiting for him to join her.

“It’s alright. If you…want to.” She speaks softly, not approach him too closely. “I know your mama said that we have to, but I can wait.” Thomas is staring at her, watching her legs twitch slightly, fascinated by the dark peaks on her chest. Her breathing is steady, she’s not looking for an escape. Her eyes are meeting his whenever he allows it. Thomas knows what to do. He’s seen farm animals do it and Charlie had shown him a movie once, short and filthy. Luda Mae had found out about it and been cross for weeks.

The real thing is different. Thomas feels almost cornered as he tentatively touches the hem of the slip. His fingers graze her bare skin and he flinches, which makes her sit up and grab his hand.

“It’s alright, it’s alright,” she coos, stroking his hand with her thumb. “Tommy…I know neither of us exactly wanted this to happen. But if it had to be anyone, I’m glad it was you. I’ve always liked you.” His face didn’t matter to her, she didn’t care that he had to hide what had been eaten away by the sickness inside of him. He wasn’t going to kiss her, he couldn’t get to that point. Not yet.

They needed to do what was expected of them first.

It takes a while, the sun is almost gone when Thomas is finally ready to get on top of her, still mostly dress, only his nice trousers unzipped. She’s naked, comfortable with allowing him to see, to explore. Her body is warm, soft, and he’s so hard it hurts until he pulls it out of his trousers. But he doesn’t put it in, not yet. He can’t quite manage that last little bit of movement, not yet.

“It could happen, Tommy. Us havin’ a baby because of tonight.” She strokes his arm, not touching his face, not until he’s ready. And maybe that won’t be tonight. “I like the idea. Go on and feel how much, darlin’.” She spreads her legs slightly to let him know he could touch her. His prodding fingers found something warm and wet, and when he pushes, a finger slips inside. “It’s good when it’s wet like that. Means I’m excited. Like you are now.”

Another fingers joins the first and she gasps, but she doesn’t stop him. “We could make a baby tonight. You and me…” The images start coming to Thomas as he fingers explore her. His wife’s belly swollen with their child, her tits full of milk, everyone knowing that she belonged to him and only him-

He’s inside of her before he can stop himself. She gasps, grabbing onto his shoulders as his cock fills her up. Her breasts bounce as he thrusts, slow and experimental at first. “Good boy, good boy,” she whispers, her body suddenly filles with sensations she’s never felt before. Thomas is equally overwhelmed, she’s so warm and wet and good and hot and everything he’s ever wanted. She’s gripping onto him tightly, he’s in awe of the sight of himself inside of her.

Thick fingers stuff his seed back inside of her after he’s done, and he prays for the first time in years that it worked.

#thomas hewitt x reader #leatherface x reader #slasher x reader #kinktober 2023 #holy shit this one got away from me

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chrollohearttags · 1 year

Note

high eren is always more aggressive in bed and y/n acting out for him? ten times worse. yeah he’s been cooped up in his studio for two days without paying his wife’s neediness any mind but a fat blunt and her attitude will definitely do the trick

yep, that’ll do it 😩 y’all know I love me some mean eren.

cw: rough sex, eren is so mean omg :( weed use, choking, degradation and name calling, HEAVY breeding, some other things, porn w no plot and we getting straight into it 🤭

“..’Rennnn, slow downnn..fuck!” (Y/N)’s whiny breath exclaimed in a choked out moan. It was all you could even manage or muster at the moment, considering your husband was currently fucking you absolutely senseless! You had no idea what had incited this change in him but you were certain it could only be deduced to him being holed up in his workspace for forty eight hours, trying to complete an important deadline and you making it no better by being a brat. Annoying him every hour to come spend time with you and then giving him the silent treatment when it was too late. He was stressed..in need of an outlet and your little pussy seemed like the perfect source. Hence why he had you folded up on the couch, ass in the air as he hit you from the back..

“Shut the fuck up and take this dick…doing all this begging for it, now you wanna stop?” you had never heard your sweet Eren be so mean. But that’s how he was when he was not only in extreme duress but intoxicated! A firm hand planted to the center of your spine, the other pulling at your hair and an ignited blunt pursed between his pouty pink lips. His green eyes glossed over in a haze of euphoria from the potent weed and the ripple of your thick ass driving him insane. He didn’t care about your tears, how many times you claimed to not be able to come anymore or if you clawed the damn cotton from the sofa…this body was his until he couldn’t bust another nut! So he’d hopelessly thrust his hips forward, digging you out with this massive dick…letting the throbbing tip peck your g-spot and beyond with each stroke. Just then, you felt his hand collide with your asscheek once more and it was much harder than the last slap! Not to mention, a palm suddenly snaking around your throat! “And I told you to keep that back arched, didn’t I? What, you can’t fucking listen now? Or do you only hear what you want to?” Even still, it excited you a little..

taking you right there in the living room because he couldn’t even be bothered to carry you to the bed. Talking to you like nothing more than a toy…it brought out a feeling you never knew you liked. That much apparent by the way that tight cunt clamped around him each time he spat at you or called you out of your name..maybe you’d anger him more often! Mounted like a wild animal in heat, (y/n) would feel the strands of his long hair tickling your shoulder blade; tingling in several places as he hissed in your ear. “Mmm…I’m sorry, daddy. You’re just fucking me so g-good..I can’t help it.. ‘s too deep..” crying out with tear stained eyes and a trembling lip that done nothing more than make your man laugh and taunt you. “Awww, my little slut can’t take anymore?..can’t handle it, yeah?” His words like venom seeping through your veins and making your spine tingle. But before you could answer, he’d rut his hips even harder, completely planked atop you with his hand cupping the back of your neck to keep you pinned down. Feeling each deep thrust in the pit of your stomach. Along with the sloshing of him fucking his own seed out of you. “Then next time you’ll act like you have some goddamn sense and stop testing me..” muttering out of frustration with the rhythm of his pounding becoming much faster and your cries growing louder in return. Chocolate eyes trailing to the back of your skull as a result. “Baby…pleaseeee.” This man is going crazy…making you see stars and regret all of your bitching. When you felt him slow to sporadic strokes and hear the huffs heaving from his barreled chest, you knew he was close yet again. It’d be a matter of time before he stuffed you with more of that creamy mixture. Only furthering the mess of your previous orgasms below. Having already two knots prior..

“I swear you piss me off sometimes but this pussy feels so good, baby…fuck!” Drawing out in a long, whiny breath whilst he drilled further. Your legs had become all but useless by this point..causing (y/n) to collapse into the cushions, smothering your face into the pillows. Unable to silence you entirely or muffle the sounds of you begging to come and for him to do the same. In his mind, he wanted to keep going..relentlessly fucking the shit out of you all night until you learned your lesson. However, it wasn’t realistic, seeing as how you were tightening around his shaft. He didn’t have to tell you what to do, hell, he never did because you responded to his body on instinct..completely bound to him and instead, you’d both fall into those climaxes as one. “Shit….right there. Come on that dick, bitch..you can give me one more..” Fading into bliss as you hit your peak again. Your breath hitching in your chest and windpipe, making you gasp once you came back to..normally, he’d be rather attentive to your needs, making sure you were okay before going any further. However, your husband wasn’t bothering to be so kind tonight. It didn’t mean he loved you any less because he couldn’t even if he tried but your sassiness and this substance had awoken a different side of him. So the second you slathered him in your silky cream, he filled your fertile little womb more of his own seed. That swollen, battered pussy probably unable to house another droplet of his cum. He didn’t pull out right away though..he’d allow it to sink into you until he no longer could stay in it. Slapping that length between your bubbly cheeks and caressing your back as he chuckled. “I’m sorry, princess. I didn’t mean to be so rough with you..just really stressed out but you did so good f’r me.” His praise being all but worth it. Seeming that whatever spell that had overcome him was lifted and he was back to his normal, sweet, doting self..but it did instill something in your brain..a lesson that you’d never forget:

make him mad more often!

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earl-grey-teacake · 3 months

Text

Baby!Loscar Oneshot- Stuffed Animals

I can't write 1k+ fics on the weekdays so please accept this little piece as a Valentines day gift! Everyone I've met has been so kind so I wanted to say thank you for being interested in my work.

❤️

"Lo! Lo!" Oscar held up the teddy bear and shook it.

"Yes, Oscar. That's Logan's bear." Lando said, not looking up from Carlos's computer. The two of them were debating over Winter break plans.

"Lo!Lo!" His voice becoming angrier and any parent could tell this was the precursor to tears and tantrums.

"I know, baby. But Logan is on vacation with his parents and we can't call them right now. It's really late in California."

Oscar, who had no understanding of time zones, or really time for that matter, stomped his foot. Lando thought he looked like a rabbit thumping it's legs and found it incredibly cute, but refrained from laughing since it would likely earn the toddler's ire.

"Logan will be back soon. He gave you his teddy bear to hold onto until then." Lando smiled and picked Oscar up.

He shook the bear and played with its arms, but it only made Oscar hug it tighter. The last time he didn't hug it tightly, Carlos had put the poor bear in the washer. Oscar watched helplessly through the glass screen as the last thing he had from his best friend be violently thrown around in the washing machine. Carlos would defend his actions by saying it was necessary since Oscar dropped it in a puddle on their morning walk.

"Lo..." Oscar hugged the bear tightly to his chest.

"It'll be okay. Logan will be home before you know it. Besides, he has to return your koala to you." Carlos reached over, laughing at how much tighter Oscar held onto the bear.

****

"Ko-a-la. Can you say Koala?" George enunciated.

"Ko-a." Logan tried his best, the gray koala hugged tightly to his chest.

"No, cola is the soda. Ko-a-la."

"Ko-a."

"No." George said flatly.

"He's too little, Georgie. He can't pronounce words like that." Alex laughed, sitting on the other side of the bed with Logan sitting propped up on a pillow between them.

Logan held up the stuffed toy for Alex to see. "O! O!"

"Yes, that's Oscar's koala."

Logan pointed to George's phone that was sitting on the bed and waved the koala around. "O! O!"

"I'm sorry, you can't call Oscar right now. It's 2:00 AM over there." Alex gently said.

Logan looked over to George with the biggest, pleading eyes George had ever seen in the hopes of getting a different response. "No, it is just too late to call right now. There's an eight hour time difference."

"O?" Logan said softly. Maybe this time will be it. Maybe if he asked it softly, his parents can let him call Oscar. He hasn't talked to Oscar in a week.

George picked up Logan and pulled him into a hug. "It's okay. You'll see Oscar again soon."

When Logan fell asleep, Alex carefully extracted the koala from his grasp and brought it over to the sink to be cleaned. "I thought he was never going to let go of that toy."

"I'm amazed, it dried properly considering he threw it into the pool twice." George laughed.

****

"Lo!"

"O!"

The two babies reached out for each other as Oscar was placed in the play pen. The clapped, and hugged and chattered on in their own little language and in their own little world.

"Here's Logan's bear. It's already been in the washer twice since Oscar keeps dropping it on our walks." Lando handed it over to Alex. "He throws it and then cries when we washes it."

"Here's Oscar's koala. At least he lets to wash it, we have to wait until he falls asleep because extracting it from his arms."

#f1 rpf #f1 rpf fic #galex #alex albon #george russell #logan sargeant #carlando #carlos sainz #lando norris #oscar piastri #Baby!Loscar

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auteurdelabre · 6 months

Text

SOMETHING TO FIGHT FOR (SERIES) PART 14

Word Count: 11.6

Pairing: Dad!Joel Miller x f!reader (no use of y/n, no physical descriptions)

Warnings: SMUT AHEAD. SMUT AHEAD. PLEASE BE 18+ READING THIS. Wanna read the rest? Pinned post on my account has my masterlist!

============

Joel and Tess are in his bedroom, but nothing scintillating is about to occur. If anything the mood is sober. Sarah has been asleep for hours, Daniel is at his dads and Tess is sitting at the edge of his bed watching Joel put away his laundry, wondering why he asked her over if he isn’t going to touch her.

Joel can feel Tess' eyes on the back on his head as he pushes the shirts in the drawer aside. He's convinced he's missing one. But he knows that this is a distraction because he’s nervous, panicking about how to start this conversation. Tess watches him dig around in his drawer for several more minutes before snapping.

“Joel what’s going on? Why am I here?”

Joel’s shoulders meet his ears for a second before he turns, looking at Tess with a look that is all too familiar. A look her husband wore when he told her he wanted to end their eight year marriage. The look men wear when they are about to break her heart.

"I thinkin' we should ease up a bit, Tess," Joel finally says his voice a low rumble. She immediately stills.

“I don't understand," Tess says, her face showing her growing panic. She stands, moving towards him. "Did I do something?”

"No," Joel assures her, shaking his head and stepping out of her reach. "Nothing like that. Nothing to do with you. I just . . . I think I thought I was ready for something and I don't know that I was. And that's not fair to you."

She comes to sit next to him on the bed, her hand falling to his knee as she gazes at him.

“What are you trying to say?”

"Maybe we take a break?" Joel answers honestly. "I'm worried Sarah's gonna get confused."

"Sarah never sees me outside of play dates, Joel. Don't try to use your daughter as an excuse."

Tess' arms are crossed over her chest, her defences up. She's completely correct.

"Tess I'm sorry," Joel says, his large brown eyes reflecting the guilt he feels. "It's just too much too fast and I. . . I'm not all in."

He expects Tess to swear at him, to stalk from the room. He expects a slap, a shout that he’s a bastard. Instead she turns her eyes on him and she’s smiling at him like he’s some sweet, naïve thing.

"Joel, you’re just scared. It's totally normal to feel like that. It's a big leap and we both have kids but I think you're worth it."

Tess frowns at Joel's muted response to that. She'd expected a smile or even a gentle agreement. Instead Joel looks down at his hands.

Tess feels her stomach sour at this. She'd thought that she and Joel were in a good spot. Yeah, things had moved a bit quickly at her insistence but that's only because she could see how easily they fit together. They were well matched in disposition and looks. Both had demanding jobs they found satisfying, both had tight knit families,

So then why is he trying to spoil everything now?

"I thought we were good," Tess says tentatively.

"We were- are," Joel self corrects. "It's not that I don't enjoy your company, or that I don't like you. You’re an amazing woman, I really mean it. Its . . . I don't feel right about it, Tess and I think I need a bit of time."

Tess is worrying her lower lip between her teeth, her face thoughtful. She slides closer to Joel on the bed. He notices her thigh pressed tightly against his. She tilts forward, her chest heavy against his arm.

“Joel, whatever it is-“

“I kissed someone,” Joel confesses, his cheeks burning.

Tess feels her eyes blow wide at this. She doesn’t need to ask.

You.

Of course it was you. The niggle in the back of her head. The voice that always told her you were too close to the family she wants for herself. She doesn’t bother asking, doesn’t want to hear the confirmation.

“Is it going to happen again?”

Joel thinks of your mouth and hears your cries of his name as you crested on his thigh. But also thinks of how you’d pushed from him and Paul’s kiss to your cheek and how happy Paul makes you and Joel shakes his head.

“No. It’s not.”

///

You haven’t spoken to Joel for four days. Four impossibly long days. Four days of replaying him guiding you to arch along his thigh, four days of recalling the warmth of his mouth, four days of waiting for Paul to leave the apartment so you can touch yourself groaning out Joel’s name until you’re hoarse.

And four days of insurmountable guilt.

I need to tell Paul.

I can’t.

Telling Paul will hurt him.

No point because it’s not going to happen again. You telling him just makes you feel better but it’ll make Paul feel worse.

Nothing else is gonna happen with Joel.

Nothing else can happen with Joel.

What else could happen with Joel?

Could it happen in his bed?

Stop it.

The phone rings and Joel’s name pops up like a demon come to life. Fuck even his name looks sexy to you right now. Joel Miller. Milllllller. The l’s trace your tongue along the edge of your top teeth suggestively.

“Hello?”

“Hey, you said you had some decorations for the party tomorrow, right?”

“Yep.”

“Mind if I pick them up? I’m in the neighborhood.”

Yes. Yes you do mind. You cannot have Joel here in your house again. You lean against the wall, suddenly breathless.

“I’m not at home,” you lie. “I’ll bring them to you-“

You catch yourself realizing; which is worse? The remembrance of Joel making you come right here against this very wall? Or going to Joel’s house with his lush bed that you’ve definitely imagined gratuitously fucking him on?

“The kids are gonna be at my place watching a movie around four if you wanna come then,” Joel adds in a low tone and you realize the implication.

You two definitely won’t be alone. It’s safe.

“Okay. Four it is.”

///

Smart woman.

Smart to tell him no and that you’d bring the decorations here to his place. Smart because Joel had already been hard, trying not to think about the ache of his cock when he’d called you from the truck.

Smart because he told Tess that it wouldn’t happen again and she’d nodded and held him and told him she understood. That he and she were both adults and that slips happened. Once. That she wanted them to work.

Tess has to work late and asked Joel to babysit. Actually, she asked Joel if you would babysit Daniel over at her place but Joel hadn’t been okay with that. It felt strange to ask you that. So instead he’d brought Daniel here.

Now it’s four pm and Joel pushes himself off the sofa at the sound of the doorbell. Daniel and Sarah sit on the floor, popcorn in his daughters lap as they stare up at the television. She’s so distracted by the movie she doesn’t even notice when you slip away. Daniel glances over only a second before his attention is back on Jiminy Cricket.

He opens the door to see you laden with bags and he immediately feels remorse.

“Here, lemme help,” Joel says, taking the bags from you, heaving them onto his shoulders with ease. He misses the way your eyes widen at the sight, your gaze going dreamy for a moment before you snap to it and carry the rest in after him.

He notices you’re wearing jeans and an extremely baggy sweatshirt that he can only assume is an oversized piece of Paul’s, zipped high on your neck. It hits Joel moments later that you’ve tried to cover your entire body up, to try and hide from him.

Don’t you get that looks are only part of it? And that you covering up just makes him want to uncover you? Unzip that hideous sweatshirt and see what’s underneath? Are you naked? No bra?

Quit it, Miller.

“Did you bring enough shit?” Joel muses, looking at the wide array of bags. You smile softly shrugging at the pile of balloons, decorations, fabric and more.

“I wasn’t sure exactly what you and Tess had decided on,” you reply breezily. “I just brought over a bunch of stuff. Whatever you don’t use I’ll grab after the party.”

Joel nods, watching as you begin to pull things from bags. Joel warns you with a hush that Sarah and Daniel are in the living room down the hall so if you keep your voice down you may just be able to escape without being pulled into watching the Little Mermaid for the millionth time after Pinocchio. You nod in agreement, sure to keep your voice quiet.

“Okay I don’t know what your plan is for before the party, but I always wanted to wake up on my birthday to a room full of balloons. Like, you walk downstairs and it’s just a sea of color you have to wade through.”

“You always wanted that? As an adult?” Joel chides.

“Obviously not as an adult,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Well. . . Maybe a little as an adult.”

Joel smirks at the laugh you try to suppress. “Did you ever get it?”

“What do you think? Why do you think I’m trying to get it for Sarah? It’s so at least one of us can experience the joy of a balloon room!”

Joel chuckles softly at this, watching how you busy yourself moving around the crowded table. He knows why you’re doing this – the more you two talk about this, the less time there is to think about him at your house coaxing you to ride his thigh to climax.

Smart woman.

Not too smart though, because the longer he doesn’t have you, the more turned on he gets. Even now as you talk he’s imagining all the things he could do with you.

“But I was thinking we could do all these different shades of purple balloons in the kitchen,” you continue excitedly. “So when she comes to have her birthday breakfast she’ll walk into this giant thing of balloons and that’ll just start the day right.”

“Birthday breakfast?” Joel is smiling widely now. His body moves towards you, instinctively drawing near, neither of you notice as he does this.

“Yeah you know,” you say with a shy smile. “The special breakfast you get on your birthday?”

“What does that entail, usually?”

“Uh. . . Pancakes with little faces in them? Strawberries cut to look like flowers? I don’t fucking know, Joel.”

“Well, in this house we go out for birthday breakfast,” Joel explains. He’s standing so close to you now, his hand almost brushing yours. “Just me and the birthday girl. Makes it special since I already make pancakes for her every fucking Sunday.”

Still smiling you give him a strangely watery look, nodding and then looking away.

///

You move to stand behind the kitchen island, dragging some of the decor over with you. You need to step away from Joel for a moment; you need to give yourself some breathing room.

It’s fucking warm in here.

You unzip the sweatshirt a fraction, needing to release some of the heat that you’re concerned has nothing to do with your choice of clothing and everything to do with Joel’s lips when they curve into a smirk.

You go back to the small frog and toad decor you got from the party store, trying to fit the cardboard pieces together so they create a cute little stand. You’re distracted by this, not even noticing Joel is across from you until you hear his low rasp.

“Is that my shirt?”

Your fingers still. Joel moves to stand next to you at the island, his dark eyes fixed on the grey fabric peeking out from underneath the sweatshirt. Your eyes blow wide, panic overtaking you as you try to even your breathing.

“W-what?”

“Is that my shirt?" Joel repeats in a murmur, his face unreadable. You feel your heart jumping, humiliation now overtaking you.

"No," you lie, putting down the craft and facing away from him. You zip your jacket up to your neck, hiding the shirt again.

Fuck, you’d forgotten you were wearing it.

Your hands go to the top of the island, placing your palms there to steady yourself as your heart throws itself against your ribcage.

You're not expecting Joel’s hand to slide under your hair, pushing it over your shoulder. You go to pull away but his warm fingers skate over your exposed neck. You shiver as his forefinger curls at the edge of the collar, pulling it down so he can see the tag.

"You shop at the Men's Wearhouse?"

"Rummage sale," you gulp. "I-it was in with a bunch of women's stuff. I guess I just assumed-"

Your hands are still on the counter, steadying yourself. You can feel the hot breath of Joel on the back of your neck before he speaks softly.

"Why are you lyin' to me?"

You crane your neck, looking at Joel over your shoulder.

How can you explain it to him? That when you wear it you feel like he's there with you? That you feel good when you carry a part of him around with you? What would he even say to that?

You would never tell him that. He's with Tess. He's made his choice. You're with Paul, you made yours. You'll always be friends. It's the only way you can have him and Sarah in your life. The only way you can survive.

But friends don't look at each other the way you and Joel are right now, do they? Friends don't get so close, practically breathing into one anothers mouths. You tilt your head away from him, needing to steady yourself.

Just focus. Deep breath and then ---

Wordlessly Joel's hands are skimming around to the front of your sweatshirt, pulling down the zipper with a sensual slowness from behind you. It releases at the bottom and he pulls the sweatshirt from your shoulders, sliding it down the crook of your arm before letting it fall to your feet.

You still face away from him, your cheeks blazing because it's so obvious by how it hangs on you that you are in fact wearing Joel’s t-shirt. The one he gave you that night when your clothes had needed to be dried. The clothing you told him you’d return and never did. The t-shirt that you wear to bed sometimes, or out under your usual clothes.

You wait for the humiliating comment. The amused observation that you're obsessed with him.

But it never comes.

Instead his head is tilted forward, his mouth skating up your neck until it reaches your ear.

"I like seein' you in my clothes," Joel murmurs there.

Your eyes shutter at the sensation of his hot breath on your earlobe. His fingers move along the base of the t-shirt, as if he intends to pull it up over your head.

You want him to.

Wait. Wait you want him to? Are you fucking insane?

You know that you’re not alone here. That you could be caught here, bracing yourself on the counter as Joel leans over you, his hands sliding up under the hem of your (his) t-shirt.

Your heart slams against your ribs so harshly you lose your balance, your knees trembling. You worry you're going to faint. You feel his hips press into your back, keeping you steady against the counter.

You should stop, you know this. But Joel is so tall and broad behind you, his lips so soft as he now kisses the side of your neck. Goosebumps break out all over as his warm hand start sliding up your stomach.

You move back as his palms come to cup your breasts, thumbs grazing your already straining nipples through the fabric of your bra. You grip the edge of the counter so tightly your knuckles are white.

"Joel we can't," you murmur, even as you arch yourself into his hands.

"I can't stop," he says almost helplessly against your neck. "I can't-“

His hands are kneading your tits and you grind back against him, your eyes shut languidly. His mouth is skimming along your jaw, teasing you.

You want to stay like this forever.

As he wanted to do that day not so long ago, he unbuttons your jeans and before you can think to stop him; his calloused palm is hurriedly sliding under the band of your panties.

His hand is warm and inviting and feels so good against your skin. He cups your sex in his wide palm before pausing as he looks at you, uncertainty passing over his features and yours.

What are we doing?!

You slip your own hand over his with the focused goal of pulling it from the confines of your under things.

"We can't do this," you say, even though there's no power behind your words.

Something changes in Joel's eyes, a feeling you can't place. Again he pauses, looking at you and inhaling with a shudder.

"We shouldn't," he breathes against your mouth.

"It's wrong," you agree gently, your lips almost brushing against his.

Joel shivers at the near contact, swallowing. You feel him pull back, his hand halfway out of your panties. You relax because you two made the mature decision to stop.

But then Joel's gripped your own hand in his and thrust it into your panties, towards your dripping core.

"What if it's your fingers?" Joel pants hot in your ear. "If it's your fingers it's not wrong, right?"

There's so little logic in that statement you could laugh. But nothing seems funny right now. Joel's his lower lip is quivering with need.

“I… I…”

His thumb has come to land on the back of your hand and he makes tiny circles there as he waits, pressing a kiss to your exposed throat before pulling back. His face is so close to yours, his eyes drinking in your features.

"Show me," he rasps against your cheek as he urges your hand down to land on the dripping slot of your sex. With shaking fingers he urges your digits gently up the soaking seam. "Make yourself come."

You hold in a whimper, terrified you'll be heard. He breathes harshly though his nose and you hold in a moan when you see him start to palm himself through his jeans with his free hand.

"Let me watch," he urges huskily.

He curls your fingers inwards, sliding over your clit. You jump a little, on high alert. He smiles, urging your fingers to splay and then encourages you to begin rubbing before he removes his hand, sliding it up over your abdomen and out of your panties.

It feels so fucking good.

Devastatingly good. And not because of how you're touching yourself or that you could be caught, but because of whom it’s for. It feels good because Joel asked you to do it and you are. It feels good because Joel Miller is hard for you, whispering how much he needs to see you come for him while you wear his clothes.

One of his hands is at vee of his jeans, the other crawling up your t-shirt to knead your breast.

You try to turn away from him, to hide the pleasure that is taking over your features but he forces your cheek back gently with his free hand. He does this until you're facing him over your shoulder the best you can.

"Need to see your face when you come for me," Joel explains in a rasp as his clothed hips circle your ass.

He didn't just say that. Joel Miller didn't just purr those words in the sexiest baritone you've ever heard. Does he know what his voice does to you?

Your fingers are working quickly over your clit now and Joel's hands are both on your hips, guiding you against him as you work hurriedly within your panties.

You can both hear how wet you are and normally that would humiliate you, but the effect it has on Joel is anything but embarrassing. His eyes are blazing, looking down the length of your body with a look of almost pained pleasure.

He groans. "Fuck, I wanna taste you again."

Jesus Christ. All he has to do is keep talking like that and you're gonna hit the edge.

Memories of that night back in December against you and a fresh wave of arousal flood you.

He presses into you tightly from behind, tilting you over the counter slightly. You can feel him throbbing through his jeans. He whispers for you to go faster, and you feel yourself bucking into your fingers as your orgasm approaches.

"I want it," you say over and over as the haze of lust takes you on. "I-i wanna..."

He's pressing a groan into the top of your head before pulling back to watch for face. He obviously enjoys the sight of your eyes fixed on his face as you bring yourself closer and closer to the precipice because his hand has begun palming himself in earnest through his jeans.

It takes everything in you not to cry out. It feels so fucking good to have him looking at you like that and holding back his own groans as you bring yourself closer and closer to orgasm.

"I need you to come," he whispers in your ear in a ragged voice. "I need it. I need you. Please, I ---"

Rapid footsteps on wood sound out, heading in your direction. You and Joel practically jump apart only seconds before Sarah busts into the kitchen with a squeak. She's carrying the big model plane you brought over last week, pretending to fly it through the air.

"Daniel wants a water, daddy."

You can see that Joel is rock hard through his jeans, blessedly shielded by the counter. Seeing it makes your breath come out in jagged little huffs. You're impossibly thankful that the shirt you're wearing covers the top of your jeans, hiding the fact that they are undone.

"No problem babygirl," Joel says clearing his throat. "I'll bring it in right away."

Sarah nods and skips back to Daniel and the still blasting television. The air in the room seems to be sucked out leaving you gasping and red -faced.

What is wrong with the two of you?

The first time could be chalked up to pent up anger coming out in a need to feel each other’s bodies. But this? There was no need for this. There was no animosity, no verbal sparring, just this ache between your selfish fucking legs.

Selfish. Just like-

"I should go,"

"Don't," Joel says seemingly before he can help himself. He moves towards you but you hold a hand up between you, stepping back.

"Joel, no. This is so... What the fuck are we doing?"

He's silent.

"I'm with Paul, you're with Tess, remember?"

"You're not happy," Joel tells you in a quiet voice, his eyes dark and intense. "I know you're not."

You're angry about the entire situation. Angry that his touch makes you do things that make you ashamed. Angry that he thinks he knows everything about you and Paul. Furious because you know that if he touches you again you won't be able to say no.

"Go give Daniel his water, Joel." Your hushed tone is cold as you pull on and zip up your sweatshirt. "Go see your daughter. She's sitting with your girlfriend’s son right now."

Joel stands there in the kitchen, looking at you with those impossibly sad, wide eyes of his. He moves towards you again, his body broad and imposing despite the sweetness in his gaze.

"Please," you beg, shaking your head. "Please don't. I can't.”

If he touches you, even to say goodbye, you won't have the strength to deny him anything.

"Fuck," Joel says shaking his head and blinking. "You're right. You're right. Go. I'm so sorry, just go.”

///

Maria brings her magazines into your suite, her eyes bright. She’s been on cloud nine for the last week, her dark eyes bright and her smile so wide you think it might crack her face in half. You absolutely relish the sight.

“Guess what?”

“What?”

“The dress is in!”

You give an excited squeal, jumping up and demanding she show you photos but she refuses, as she has done since she bought the damn thing.

“It’s a surprise,” she insists with a melodramatic twist to her voice. “You’re just gonna have to wait and see.”

“It’s good you’re here,” you say, suddenly anxious. “I wanted to talk to you about something kinda huge.”

She pauses, glancing around your suite. Something looks different. The place more sparse. It’s not until she sees the cardboard boxes stacked by the door that she understands. You’re distracted getting towels from the drier and bringing them to an empty box so you don’t see how her face hardens or how she shakes her head slowly.

“Are you packing?”

“Yeah,” you nod, smiling at her. “It’s your early wedding present. I’m moving in with Paul when the lease is up at his old place. He found a place for us in Leander.”

“Leander? That’s like forty minutes away from here.”

“I know,” you say, surprised by the sudden hostility in her tone. “But Paul has the car, so it’ll be an easy commute. No more bus for me!”

When Maria doesn’t smile back, you feel the first bubbling in your chest. Something is off. You had assumed she’d be delighted, even excited at how you were both in such committed relationships.

You haven’t told her about Joel and his beautiful fucking mouth on yours or his hands or - well, any of it. It’s a shameful secret you’ll live with. A family trait, you tell yourself in your dark moments.

"You can’t move out," Maria blurts.

You turn, surprised by the chill of her tone. You begin to load the towels into the box marked “toiletries”. As you do, you realize that maybe she’s just worried about not seeing you as much. This past year has been so wonderful, both of you being so present in one another’s lives.Your heart softens and you smile sweetly at her, reaching out to embrace her.

“You know I’ll come and visit all the time.”

“It isn’t that.”

You stop, your hands dropping to your sides.

"Maria you're getting married next weekend," you say with a laugh. "You're telling me that you and Tommy are gonna live upstairs, build a family and I should just stay living in your basement?"

"I already talked to Tommy about it and he agrees you should stay," Maria insists. "Says you're like family-"

"But I'm not family, am I?" you suddenly defend, your cheeks flushing as you say it out loud. "Not really. You and Tommy will be a family. Joel is Tommy's family, Sarah's his niece. But who am I?"

The silence that follows is as hideous as it is devastating. You've never feel so alone as when you voice your deepest insecurities.

"You're my best friend," Maria finally answers with glassy eyes. "My chosen family."

"It's not the same." You shake your head, turning from her so she can't see your tears. "You were gonna flip this house, remember? It was supposed to be an investment for you."

"I like this house," Maria says softly. Her arms are folded as if she's holding herself from crumbling. "Tommy and I fell in love in this house. We built together in this house. I'm not selling it. So there's no reason for you to go."

"Even if you aren't selling this place, I have to go." You pull the tape over the cardboard, its sound loud and cracking in the quiet room as you sniffle. "Paul is offering me a real future.”

“Oh fuck Paul!” Maria shouts, surprising you. You can see the glare in her features, the ferociousness that comes with a certain air of protectiveness. “Paul doesn’t deserve you. He never has.”

“What?”

“You know it, I know it, Tommy fucking knows it,” Maria says emphasizing Tommy’s name. “And what’s worse is you pretending like he does.”

Rage and humiliation and deep hurt slash through you like a knife to the gut.

“Paul wants to marry me, Maria. He wants to have kids and buy a house and he wants it with me!” you shout back, surprising you both. You don't think you've ever shouted at Maria before. “Why is that so wrong? Why is it so fucking wrong to want what you and Tommy have? Or what Joel has? Why don’t I get to be happy?”

“You will,” Maria promises with a sincerity she truly feels. “But not with Paul.”

You give a frustrated noise in the back of your throat, throwing the towels into the box, not even bothering to fold them.

“Even if it wasn’t Paul, I can't live in my friend’s basement forever, Maria. Do you know how pathetic that feels?"

"More pathetic than running back to some guy who left you to go play at being a rock star?"

That stings.

That actually physically hurts worse than if she’d slapped you.

"Stop it," you say softly because now the tears building. But Maria isn't stopping.

"A guy who thought ditching you after two years together just so he could live out some adolescent fantasy was fair? Who took your car?"

She's furious and hurt and you can see it all in her face. It’s like all you can make out is her face, everything else is black around the edges. You feel sick.

"A guy who came back with his tail between his legs because he couldn't make it so he-"

"Enough!" you shout. “I don’t want to hear it, Maria!”

You brush the tears from your eyes, hiccupping a cry and sinking to your knees as Maria shakes her head and leaves, slamming the door behind her.

///

Mini golf is not a sport beloved by Joel Miller.

In fact he hates it. Hates bending down until his back cracks, hates the stupid fucking attractions at each putting green, hates that annoying children that rush by urging him to hurry up so they can take their turn.

But he loves seeing Sarah so happy.

She's giggling madly her hands in the air in a tiny v of victory. Her little friend Jessie is at your other hip, looking up at you through pink glasses with just as much affection as Sarah. You came to the party, cheeks pink and unable to look at Joel but you’re here. Paul is coming late, you mention to Maria and Tommy. Good. Joel hopes he doesn’t come at all.

"Hole in one!"

“Hole in five,” you counter with a laugh. “But since it’s your birthday I think I can let it slide.”

And he loves watching you and her laughing as you tally the scores. He knows that you’re being casual, being ‘normal’ with Joel because its Sarah’s party and you refuse to make it awkward for her.

Sarah is confused that the lowest score is the winning one, citing that there must be a mistake. As they work on this Joel surreptitiously kicks his bright green ball into the plastic hole. It makes a rattling sound that draws your attention.

“Daddy got a hole in one too!” Sarah says and Jessie joins in her cheer, the two of them jumping up and down, holding hands. You however are swanning towards Joel with a very disbelieving look.

"Cheater!" You cry out, your face flushed merrily. You meet his eyes now, and he sees them twinkling.

"No proof," Joel smirks.

You and Sarah give him a dubious look before setting your own ball down on the green and taking aim. You’re shockingly good at this and Joel has to hold in a laugh when you sail by, tossing your hair over your shoulder dramatically as you get your real hole in one.

“Some people are just natural talents,” you say laughing.

Joel watches as you, Sarah and Jessie go walking over to the next par. Both the girls have taken a hand, twisting you around as you all laugh. You hair streams out behind you, back lit by the sun of the afternoon. Your laugh loudly and without care.

Fuck you're luminous.

Joel can't stop looking at you, trying to be covert. He sweeps a hand over his eyebrows, his eyes straining to keep you in his sights without being obvious. He goes towards the group, his eyes on you and not on Sarah who is swinging her club around wildly while Jessie takes her turn.

"Careful," Joel laughs when she almost clips him. "Almost got me in the head, babygirl."

"Sorry daddy," Sarah says, her eyes filled with concern which lessens when she sees the second half of your group; Tess, Daniel, Maria and Tommy heading to your course. Maria gives you a good-natured scowl.

"How are you all so damn fast?"

"Sarah, Jessie and I are just really good at mini golf," you brag airily, running your hand through Sarah's springy locks. "Joel on the other hand..."

///

The group laughs at the insinuation, but you don't miss the way Tess hangs back a bit from the group, her smile not reaching her eyes when she looks at you and Sarah.

You remember that night in the bar with Tess.

You remember the kitchen with Joel.

"Sarah why don't you help Tess with this round?" you say, giving her tiny frame a gentle nudge in Tess direction.

"Don't wanna," Sarah says, her hand going to grip yours.

You can feel the brutal sting of public rejection for Tess and your heart cracks. You go down to one knee in front of her with Joel staring at the back of your head.

"Paul is gonna be here soon and I need to visit with him," you say nudging her again. "Go on and play with Tess. I bet she'd like the help."

Sarah rolls her eyes but does as you request. She holds a hand out to Tess who takes it gratefully. She doesn’t even look at you in thanks, just murmurs to Sarah about how good Sarah is at mini golf.

It hurts.

You can’t lie and say that seeing Sarah with Tess hurts. Maria has come towards you, looking nervous.

“So where’s Paul?” Maria broaches with her eyes soft.

She knows that after the other night’s outburst you two are both on shaky ground. A friendship spanning decades and this is the worst thing you’ve said or done to one another.

It makes you both feel weird and timid around each other, despite the sisterhood you have always shared.

You don’t want to be upset though – her wedding is coming up and you want this time to be happy for your friend. You move past the irritation of the other night and accept the olive branch.

“He’s gonna be a bit late.”

Maria nods, not saying much else. You both watch Tommy try and hit his ball, his tall frame hunched over comically. When his ball sails into one of the pools of shallow aqua water and swears loud enough for Sarah to chide him, you and Maria giggling softly to one another.

///

Joel can hear you and Maria laughing up ahead. He feels his feet instinctively pulling him towards your part of the group, his chest warming at the sound of your laughter.

“Joel?”

Tess breaks Joel from his reverie. Joel pauses, glancing over to see her striding towards him.

"I have to go to the washroom. Can you watch Daniel?"

Joel’s eyes snap to Daniel who is getting ready for his turn to swing at the last hole. He’s far behind the group, finding it hard to continue on when there are so many rocks and blades of grass to look at.

"Sure."

"Might be nice for my guys to get to know each other."

She squeezes Joel’s shoulder tightly before sashaying away through the groups of young golfers.

It's obvious that Tess is trying to get him to bond with her son, Daniel. He tries, fascinated by the difference between a son and a daughter. Sarah is so delicate, hesitant at times whereas Daniel is loud, abrasive and he loves to smash his toy trucks into each other.

It's funny because growing up Joel has always assumed he'd have sons. Perhaps because he'd always had Tommy there, taking care of his little brother like a father would. And then Sarah had come along and it's like he'd been waiting his whole life to meet her, this sweet little girl, folding into the position of "girl-dad" with such ease that he can't imagine anything else.

With Daniel it's especially hard because he just doesn't feel an ounce of connection to the kid. Daniel is sweet, a bit whiny compared to Sarah (but every child that isn't Sarah annoys him) and he doesn't seem to like Joel that much.

Joel watches Daniel hit the pale yellow golf ball with his club, stomping his little foot when he misses the hole. It's almost amusing to see the kid fall down onto his butt in a frustration. He drops to his knee, about to tell Daniel its fine but pulls back when Daniel erupts into a shrieking wail.

Tess is still in the washroom, leaving Joel to kneel next to a screaming boy who is now throwing his body backwards onto the green while his tiny fists and feet bang against the artificial turf.

"Daniel-"

"YOU'RE NOT MY DADDY! LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Joel physically recoils at the aggression in the tiny boys freckled features. He flinches when heads turn in his direction, embarrassment flooding him. The back of his neck feels hot.

"I never said I was your daddy, Daniel. C’mon now. Get up."

Daniel continues to wail. Loud enough for the world to hear. He continues to urge the boy up, his neck warm from the looks of those nearby.

He glances over when he sees a pair of shoes come into his peripheral. Of course it's you. Joel feels his breath leave him as you come into focus.

"Daniel? Was that you yelling? You've got some pretty impressive lungs!" you drop to your knees in front of the sniffling boy. "I bet you're a really good swimmer."

Having expected discipline, Daniel is stunned into silence by your gentle amusement.

"It's no fair," Daniel whines, kicking at the dimpled little ball by his foot. "This golf is stupid."

"Oh, I bet I know what happened," you say with a voice of wonder that Daniel can't help but respond to. You tap your chin theatrically looking into middle distance as the young boy stares up at you.

He hiccups a muttered response, his eyes wet with tears. "What?"

"Come with me." You hold out your hand and he takes it, allowing you to pull him to a stand. He follows you off of the green, allowing the patient family who has been waiting to begin their turn.

You sit by on one of the plastic benches designed to look like wood, patting the seat next to you. Joel watches as Daniel clamors up his eyes rapt on your face. You hold up his pale yellow ball and your bright red one in front of you, looking thoughtful and pretending to weigh them in each hand.

"Just as I suspected," you say with a serious tone. "You got one of the faulty ones. I heard about this happening. The balls look normal but they're unbalanced inside so they wobble and don't go into the cup even when they're supposed to."

Joel can only stare at you. How are you just so natural with everyone? Even Daniel is captivated, his eyes widening.

"That's what happened!" Daniel says in such an exuberant tone that Joel sees you try to hold in a laugh.

Tess has returned from the washroom and is coming up behind Daniel. Joel misses this, so focused on your face and the way you smile with your whole face.

"You wanna take my spot with Jessie and Sarah? I don't mind. I'll even trade your ball for mine."

You hold out your chipped red golf ball in his direction. Daniel smiles, tears forgotten and reaches for it only to have Tess tug him back.

"He's fine," Tess snaps with a sharp look. She comes to stand behind Daniel, gripping him by the shoulder as she looks down at you.

Joel feels his hand tighten reflexively when he sees your smile fade.

"Sorry!" You say red faced. “Just thought Daniel might want to join Sarah and Jessie at the next hole."

"He doesn't," Tess assures you, her eyes flinty. "He and Joel were hanging out, getting to know each other better."

You seem to understand something in that because your eyes go from Daniel to Joel and then back to Tess. You force a smile and nod. You straighten, embarrassment flushed in your cheeks. You look like a child who has been admonished by a teacher.

"Right. Sorry about that."

Before Joel can tell you that you've done nothing to apologize for, Maria and Tommy are calling for you, echoed by the two young girls. Joel watches as you scamper off. Tess urges Daniel to continue on ahead, joining the group before she sneers.

"Jesus does she always have to do that?"

Joel is confused by Tess' anger, twisting to face her. "What?"

"Try to control everything."

"That's not what she was doin', Tess," Joel explains calmly. "Your son was screaming his head off after he missed the cup. She was just calming him down so he didn’t keep causing a scene with his tantrum."

Tess 'cheeks go pink, embarrassed about a litany of things in that sentence.

"She's always just... around," Tess says with a flustered look when Joel openly scowls at her.

"I like her around," Joel says in a voice that does not welcome criticism or debate. "So does Sarah. So do most people."

Tess goes very red in the face, urging Daniel to go join Maria. Joel knows what coming, feels it in his bones. And yet it's not until she says the words that his eyes slip shut.

"I can only assume it was her?”

Joel feels his stomach sink, so aware of their surroundings. This is his babygirl's birthday and he doesn't want it spoiled. His voice is a low murmur that only she can hear.

"Not now. Not here."

"When?" Tess challenges.

"Tonight. At my place."

He’s thought about it since last night after you left. Even if you are with Paul, even if you don’t want him, he can’t do this to Tess. She doesn’t deserve it. He’d have done it last night if it weren’t for the party. He doesn’t want anything spoiling it.

"After I drop Daniel at his dad's?” Tess says with false enthusiasm. “After Sarah's asleep?"

"Yeah."

"Maybe I should just start going through your bedroom window?" Tess says ruefully. "Save some time and that way Sarah will never have any clue that I'm staying over or that I'm in your life at all."

Joel is silent. Nothing he says will change anything. He knows Tess is mad and he knows she won't stop.

"Why are you with me?"

"I said not now, Tess," Joel almost barks. "Not at my kid’s birthday party."

Tess' eyes are glossy now. She's biting the inside of her cheek to stop them from becoming teary.

"Do you have any idea how brutal it is to stand back and watch your boyfriend falling more and more in love with someone else, Joel?"

Joel feels his stomach drop at this, because not only is she completely justified in feeling this way; it’s also become clear that his affection for you is not subtle or hidden. It’s obvious enough that Tess can see it. Obvious enough that she immediately knew you were the one he kissed.

Tess looks about to say more but breaks off to glance over his shoulder. Joel feels his blood run cold at the sound of a new low voice behind him.

"Sorry I'm late."

Of course it's fucking Paul.

Paul who as Joel turns to observe, looks like he stepped out of some hipster magazine. Paul who is giving Joel a very peculiar look with those piercing blue eyes of his.

Paul who has likely just heard all of what Tess just said.

"Have you seen-"

"She's with Sarah and Maria over there," Joel interrupts, tossing his hand in your direction. "We'll catch up with y'all in a sec."

Paul nods, a wrapped gift under his arm as he saunters towards the group. Joel wills himself not to look in your direction when you spot him, giving a soft coo of his name at his approach.

"Tess I can't do this now. Later,” Joel pleads. “After the party we'll talk. I promise."

Tess has tears in her eyes but she nods, sniffling. Silently they walk towards the group, both faces twisted in a quiet anguish they cannot yet voice.

///

Part two of the birthday party takes place in the McDonalds a short walk from the mini golf location. The group of you walks over, Tess holding Daniel’s hand, Sarah and Jessie holding yours. Joel walks behind the group, watching you walk, admiring how you look from behind and then immediately feeling guilty about it.

Maria and Tommy drive on ahead, setting up the balloons and toad decor and a gift table so that when Sarah walks in she knows exactly where to go. She squeals, almost jumping in place as Maria helps to put her party hat on. Paul has brought the gift you bought, wrapped beautifully in shimmering pastels with him.

"Is that for me?" Sarah asks shyly up at him when he places it amongst the others. Paul grins down at her, nodding.

“Yep. We got you something real good.”

You smile at Paul, finding it sweet to see him interact with Sarah. It gives you a glimpse of what he’d be like as a dad.

The kids take a seat around the table and you help Sarah with the plastic bib, smiling as she tells you all about how she hopes she’ll get two burgers (she will, but she’ll only eat half of the first one).

You can see Tess over the crowd of people in the restaurant. She and Joel are speaking just outside the doors. You continue watching as Tess goes to take his hand. He sweeps his hand down her back instead, gently urging her forward and you feel your stomach tighten because you know what that feels like, to have Joel’s hand at the small of your back.

“Are you listening?”

“Huh? Yeah, sure. What?”

You see Joel and Tess approach and try to hold in a frown. Joel's hand is still at the small of her back. Innocuous to most, but painfully obvious to you.

“Gonna get a drink, you want one?”

“Sure. Diet Coke.”

Paul nods, heading off towards the till and Maria walks over, her head shaking as you look on to see the kids eating their burgers just delivered by a tired looking teenager wearing a pasted-on smile.

You and Maria watch as the kids start dueling with their French fries, laughing and dipping them into ketchup before pretending to be stabbing each other with the pointed tips of the crunchiest ones.

“From dive bars to fucking McDonalds,” Maria tuts as she takes a sip of her soda. “Who could’ve seen that happening?”

“Not me,” you say with a laugh, the two of you collapsing into hushed giggles. Tommy walks over, slinging his arm around his fiancée. Maria has brought her new digital camera, taking photos of everything. Right now she chooses to take an unflatteringly close snapshot of her beloved pulling a face into the camera.

“What’re you two gigglin’ about over here?”

“Just the realization that we’re no longer cool,” you say with a dramatic sigh that Maria grins at. Tommy smirks as well. “I wouldn’t smile too much, Miller, you’re just as un-cool as we are.”

“Hey, I resemble that remark,” Tommy growls playfully. Joel, who has noticed the three of you giggling comes over, his eyes traveling along your faces.

“What am I missing?”

“A hat,” you tell him pointedly. You reach beside him to grab several of the pointy cone-shaped paper hats like Sarah and the other kids are wearing and hand them to the group. Tommy and Maria put theirs on without question, as do you, the tight elastic string digging into your jaw.

“C’mon,” you say playfully as Joel hesitates. “Can’t party without a hat.”

Joel shoots you a dark look undercut by the smirk he’s trying to hide. He places the hat on his head, the rubber band taut around his chin. While you and the group look playful, on Joel the party hat looks atrocious with its McDonalds cartoon and Joel’s curls haphazardly askew underneath.

“Nevermind," you giggle. "Take it off.”

The group’s laughter is cut off at the arrival of Tess and then Paul. Tess comes up to the group, specifically standing between you and Joel, leaning her shoulder against his. Tommy and Maria exchange a look before taking a sip from their drinks.

“Looks like the party’s here,” she says with forced joviality.

Maria makes a sound of agreement, her eyes drifting over to Joel and then back to Tommy. Tess glances over at you, giving you a smile with no warmth and you wonder if Joel told her anything.

Does she know you kissed? That you? . . . No. He wouldn’t have told her that.

It makes you feel ashamed. It makes you feel guilty. And then it makes you feel impossibly vulnerable when Joel’s eyes dart to your face from over her head. Paul arrives seconds later to bring you over your soda and the group breaks apart, the moment gone.

///

After burgers, a mountain of soda and a pile of gifts it’s time to cut the cake. Sarah is already buzzing from all the sugar but when she sees the cake she is almost beside herself with delight.

It’s a basic sheet cake with Ronald McDonalds’s image holding a stack of colorful gifts. Six green and purple striped candles line the image. You know the cake is going to taste like wax, but there’s something nostalgic about the whole experience that makes you smile. Paul murmurs a similar observation in your ear and you nod, wincing at the heat of his breath on your ear.

Joel has a lighter in one hand as he motions for Sarah to sit beside him with the other. The rest of the group is gathering around, some standing, and some sitting. Jessie is watching the cake with a look of hunger. Daniel is slouched at the far end still eating his French fries.

"C'mon babygirl," Joel says as Sarah runs over to him. He lights the candles on the cake, chuckling as Sarah squeaks excitedly. She grins up at you from over the cake, her large eyes wide.

“Got your wish?” you ask playfully. Sarah’s face becomes focused and she nods.

“Yep.”

"Alright then, go on and make your wish," Joel tells her, holding the hair back from her face as it dips towards the candles. “Make it a good one.”

Sarah glances from you to her dad and then back at the flickering candles. You smile, wishing that your worries and dreams could be solved by blowing out six tiny flames.

She extinguishes the candles a very focused breath to the cheers of her family and friends and some nearby patrons who love a good singalong. Joel squeezes her tightly, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple as she squirms in his arms from the attention.

"Smile Sarah!" Maria calls from the corner. She raises the compact digital camera to her eye line.

Sarah wraps her arms around Joel's neck and smushes her cheek up next to his. This makes him smile, that broad smile where his eyes disappear and his dimple pops out. Sarah does the same, her own dimple a mirror of her father's. The two of them smile up at the camera in Maria's hand and all you can feel is a debilitating love for them.

It's a deep abiding affection that makes your entire body feel like its glowing but from the inside. You have to look away because you can feel yourself getting emotional.

Then you hear your name being shouted and Sarah is holding out a hand to you.

"I want you in the picture!" she says, her face imploring you. You hesitate, almost feeling Tess' furious gaze on you, burning a hole through your head. You consider not doing anything or insisting you get a photo later. But Joel is twisting to face you, his brows raised.

“Go on,” Paul says tightly. “Be weird if you didn’t.”

With a small nod you move to take the seat next to Joel and Sarah, feeling awkward. You smile at the camera, wanting to get this over with.

But then Sarah shifts to her father's other knee and goes in the middle of you both. She urges you closer until she can get one tiny arm hooked around your neck, one arm hooked around her father's. Satisfied she looks up at Maria.

"Okay Auntie Maria," Sarah says with a broad smile. "You can take the picture.'"

///

Sarah doesn't understand when the three of you stopped existing together. She would never use those words but its how she feels.

Sarah remembers the coloring book you left her signed from toad, telling her to make the world more colorful. To Sarah that's what you do. You sail into the house with stories or cupcakes or hugs and singing and you make her world more colorful.

It used to be so warm and happy at her house because you would be there. Daddy used to smile more often too. She loves when it's the three of you like at the park.

At the park, before ice cream, she and a young boy had been playing on the slide. Sarah called out to you and Joel to watch her. Both sets of eyes had immediately drawn to her with you clapping and cheering.

"It's that your mummy and daddy?" the boy behind her asked.

Without hesitation Sarah had told him "yes", her tiny stomach flipping as she went down the slide, a mixture of excited thrill from the descent and of what she'd told the boy. Because it feels like you’re a family.

But it also feels like there have been less park days. Less nights on the couch watching a movie eating popcorn. Things feel good when you're around but you're not around as much.

But that's all going to change because Sarah made her wish and she knows that wishes come true because last year she wished for a mama. A mama who she could see and talk to and love.

And then there you were! You with your jellybeans and laughter and love and Sarah thanked the birthday gods for being so kind because you were so much better than she could ever have dreamed of.

So this is why she knows that her birthday wish will come true this year as well. As she holds you and her father by the neck smiling up into the camera Sarah knows that everything will be okay.

Because her wishes come true.

///

“I can’t believe how tiny children can eat so much,” you tell Maria when the waxy cake has been eaten and all the kids having stumbled into the play area, shrieking with delight after the grownups have wiped down their cake-covered faces. You’re all gathered around the table, helping Joel to tidy the mess.

Well, everyone but Maria. Maria is looking at the photos on her camera, smirking to herself as she holds it to Tommy.

“I don’t know if I can marry you Tommy, look how badly you photograph. Our wedding photos are gonna be shit.”

Tommy pulls her into an aggressive hug, kissing the side of her neck as she giggles. “Too late. You already said yes, so you’re stuck with me.”

You smile softly before you catch sight of Joel clearing paper plates at the other end of the table, his mouth in a small smirk as he looks at his baby brother. There’s affection in his dark eyes, even as he rolls them.

“Shit.”

You turn to see Daniel in the play area, his face screwed up in silent tears behind the glass. Tess gives a deep sigh through her nose and brushes past you into the area. She kneels beside her son, brushing the hair from his forehead.

Tess is a good mom. And despite how chilly she’s treated you today, you know that she’ll make a good stepmom to Sarah. You push past how that makes your stomach twist.

“Here’s all your decoration stuff,” Joel says, hefting the bag towards you and breaking your gaze from Tess and Daniel. You’re about to take it when Paul reaches out, gripping it and smiling over at Joel.

“I got it. I’ll go put it in the car." He smiles at you. "Then you ready to go baby?”

“In a few minutes,” you say, smiling weakly.

You don’t really want to leave, but you suppose the party is wrapping up.

“Guys, you gotta see this photo of Sarah, it’s so adorable,” Maria says, looking through the overly bright screen hosting the digital images. You and Joel crowd around her, looking over her shoulder. Tommy hangs back, a small smile on his face as he watches you all.

The photo Maria is referencing is the one of Sarah holding up the toad book you bought her. The one listing every species with photos, a CD rom and a poster she can hang on her wall. She’s screaming into the camera, so excited with her gift.

The next image is you, eyes shut in laughter as Sarah has thrown herself into your arms and you hug her tightly.

“Oh, go to the next one,” you urge with a cringe, desperate to see more Sarah and less of yourself. Tommy has wandered over now and the four of you look at the images

Maria acquiesces, flipping through the photos until she lands on the one of Joel and Sarah, cheeks smushed together and smiling up at the camera. Your favorite photo. You, Tommy and Maria let out a communal ‘awwww’ as Joel rolls his eyes.

“Next one,” he says, waving away the attention. You and Maria laugh as her hand rolls the toggle and then the laughing fades.

On the screen is the photograph of the three of you. The one you hadn’t initially wanted to take.

You’re almost shoulder to shoulder with Joel, Sarah’s tiny frame between you. She has each of your necks in the crooks of her skinny arms and all three of you are smiling up at the camera. You’ve never seen yourself in a photo with Joel and so the sight of it takes your breath away.

Your eyes are sparkling and your cheeks are flushed merrily as you grin. Joel’s smile is equally bright, his eyes disappearing when he does. Sarah however, is beaming between the two of you, looking like she’s on top of the world.

And it’s like you see it for the first time.

How the three of you look like a family. How naturally you fit together in this photo, like pieces of a puzzle being snapped together. How when you look at this image it’s like you’ve been a family this entire time.

And then Maria’s finger slips and the next photo is shown. One you didn’t know she’d taken. In this photo your eyes are on Joel as he looks at down at Sarah with an indulgent grin. Your mouth is in a soft smile as you look at him in the photo and it’s so fucking clear in your eyes.

Simultaneously your gazes drift to meet behind Maria’s head, your mouth parting slowly. Your heart jumps because you can see that Joel has seen it too, the obvious thing that you have been terrified to acknowledge.

That you love him.

And then Paul is back, coming up to the group to get you so you can leave. No one notices, even Tommy and Maria seem to have recognized the significance of this moment and have gone quiet.

Confused at the sobering tone, Paul looks from you to Joel gazing at each other and something crosses his face. He drops his light eyes to your hand when he goes to grip it, speaking loudly.

“You aren’t wearing the ring.”

///

If Joel could articulate this moment correctly, he would do so summarily: it feels like someone has reached into his chest, taken his still beating heart and slammed it viciously onto the ground, then stabbing pins into each chamber before setting the entire thing on fire.

The ring.

He’s not stupid. He knows exactly what ring Paul is talking about. Your reaction is immediate. Your face drops and your eyes widen, shooting a meaningful look at Paul. In that look Joel can read exactly what you’re trying to communicate to Paul; I told you not here.

“Wait, you’re engaged?” Tess all but shrieks, a genuine smile breaking out over her face. “That’s amazing!”

You look so incredibly stunned by everything and all you do is nod, offering hushed words of thanks and smiling strangely. Like a puppet who’s face is all strings to be pulled and moved around.

“Congrats,” Tommy offers weakly, his eyes darting to Joel and then back to you. Paul has slung his arm around your waist, holding you tightly to him. Your face has blanched, all the color drained from it.

“Yeah, we weren’t gonna mention it because of your wedding coming up, Mar, but I figure why not share? It’s a happy occasion after all.”

If Joel thought he was upset at the situation, it’s nothing compared to the look Maria is shooting at you right now. A monstrous, furious gaze that he thinks makes you wince.

Joel watches as you murmur something about saying goodbye to Sarah and his attention is back on his daughter, watching her laughing and climbing the play structure, waving to you as she swings down to greet you.

Friends. We're friends .

Joel can't stop the anger that's going through him. He can’t stop shifting from foot to foot as he stands there; arms crossed watching you enter into the play area with a splotchy face. He recognizes this as a hallmark of you trying not to cry.

Doesn’t matter though. You’re not his to console.

Sarah has seen you and she comes speeding towards you, looking concerned. She too has seen the red face and eyes. You must assure her its nothing because the smile is back on her face. Jessie wanders over, her voice silent behind the wall of glass.

His eyes are following your figure as you chase Sarah towards the slide of the play area. He can hear the muffled shriek of his daughter behind the glass before she speeds towards it.

Joel watches as Tess approaches you and Sarah. You and Sarah giggle about something Jessie is saying before Sarah is talking a mile a minute, gesturing to you about something in the play area. She takes your hand, wanting to lead you towards the colorful slides. Tess watches this quietly observing the two of you.

When you notice Tess out the corner of your eyes Joel is shocked to see you immediately sober. Tess is smiling at you, but warily. He watches you step back from Sarah, motioning to Tess to take your place as you head over to a waiting Tommy who has hung back, giving you sad eyes.

What the fuck was that?

"Hey Joel."

Joel glances over to see Paul approaching, his lanky frame strangely graceful. The way he moves makes Joel feel oversized and awkward. He’s the last fucking person Joel wants to see right now.

“Congrats,” Joel manages to rasp out with his jaw clenched.

“Thanks,” Paul says with conviction. “I think I actually have you to thank for it.”

Joel is struck by this. "Me? Why?"

Paul motions to you talking to Jessie near the ball pit. "She never wanted kids before."

"Really," Joel says in a tone so flat it could be road kill.

Paul doesn't seem to notice Joel's recalcitrance, or if he does he leans into it.

"Nah, never considered it. When we were dating and I brought it up she was adamant, always had a reason not to," Paul says with a short laugh. "Said she didn't want to add to an overpopulated planet. Or that she didn't want to pass on her bad genes. Funny girl."

Joel hates this entire conversation. He hates the way Paul stand and talks and acts like he's so fucking deep. He hates how he calls you a girl when you're obviously a woman.

"But after spending time Sarah? I think she's more open to the idea and that's thanks to you. And since she’s serious about kids, she was open to the idea of getting married quicker than she expected."

Joel's narrowed focus has moved from you back over to the man on his left. Paul sounds sincere in what he says, which somehow makes it worse.

"So I guess I just really wanted to thank you."

He's actually thanking Joel for making it easier to knock you up.

Images of your belly swollen with another man's child enter into Joel’s mind. Picturing you with your arms full, rocking a small infant while murmuring sweet soothing words. Images of you laughing in bed with Paul, wearing his ring. And then finally the visage of you, dressed in white, standing there and making promises of eternal fidelity to a man who isn’t Joel.

This all serves to send his entire neck and face burning with an anger he doesn’t expect. One he can’t control. But Paul isn’t stopping; in fact Joel’s silence seems to be prompting him to continue.

“You know, Joel, this wouldn’t even be happening if it weren’t for you.”

Joel's fist connects with Paul's jaw before he even has a second to comprehend what he's done.

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cosmetichorror · 1 year

Text

Okay so I’ve hit a mini writers block, so I was scrolling through my drafts for inspo and found this masterpiece.

I’ve never seen the post this oneshot was inspired off of in person, but I’ve seen screenshots, so it’s based off of this

Hope you know I was laughing the whole time I was writing this

—

"THIS IS THE WORST HYRULE WE'VE BEEN IN!" Wind exclaims, startling everyone out of their thoughts.

They're in a new hyrule, and they know there's a Link somewhere. It's like a fucked up game of hide and seek, or where's Waldo. But the longer you take to seek out Waldo the longer all of your Hyrules are in danger. And the worst part? There isn't a village ANYWHERE!

"Don't be rude, Wind." Time scolds, glaring at the teen.

Legend shakes his head "No, no. He has a point." He looks around "While this place is pretty, we're low on supplies and there's not a village in sight." He points out. Wars nods along to this.

"We're on a path, there's got to be one near." Four speaks up, arms crossed.

Despite this, they continued to walk for hours.

The orange sun has begin to set, casting a shadow on hyrule as the moon begins to rise, but Hylia has apparently taken mercy upon them, because distantly they see what appears to be a village. Many sighs of relief and mummers of thanks to the gods are sent, and the chain has a new pep in their step.

It’s a quaint village, with a nice dirt road and cute little houses, alongside what appears to be some statues in the center of all of it. They agree to start at the center where the statues are, and make their way around gathering supplies and finding an inn- if there even is one, that is.

But as they walk closer to the statues, they begin to take a familiar shape. But soon enough, they see exactly why that is.

"Is that.." Time stares in awe. Jaws are dropped, eyes are bulging, and all sense of frustration from the long journey is swept away by pure bewilderment.

There in the middle of the town stood several statues, nine of them to be exact. Eight of them were shockingly familiar, though the tallest one was a stranger to them, we'll focus on that one after.

There was a statue of each of them. Time, Twilight, Legend, Warriors, Hyrule, Four, and Sky. The details aren't exactly accurate, their faces don't match very well but the clothes are very accurate much to their surprise. They know they've been reduced to fairytales across many time periods, but never have they had statues built for them.

"What. The fuck?" Legend manages to make out.

Time doesn't even censor him. He's far too flabbergasted to even bother.

"That can't be us, can it?" Sky mumbles out, walking up and running a hand along his statue. It's high quality metal, but despite that it shows age. These must have been here for ages.

An elderly lady that sits in a chair not far from the statues watches them, her aged eyes never leaving them. They can understand why, not every day you see a group of such well versed warriors after all.

She watches them carefully, and the group notices. They exchange strange glances but other then that stay relatively in their conversation about what these statues could mean, although they've quieted down.

Then, the old lady gasps, and she shakily runs as quickly as she can up to the chain.

"You are the hero's of old!" She cries out, and Sky sputters. "I- well, uh- maybe??” He knows there's no point in trying to hide it when there are literals statues built of them, albeit not completely accurate.

"They have returned to us! What foe have you come to defeat, old great ones!" The elderly lady cries out, tears beginning to form in her eyes. "I have heard tales of you from my mother and grandmother! I never imagined I would have the honors of meeting you, oh great heros!" She exclaims, falling to her knees in front of them.

People begin to gather around, walking out of their houses to see if it really was true. Kids hide behind their parents legs, mothers and fathers weep in joy, people bow their head in respect to them. Meanwhile, most of the chain had never been so uncomfortable in their entire lives.

"Uhm, hi?" Time greets, waving a hand. "You uh, you don't need to bow to us, ma'am." He speaks, helping the elderly lady up off the ground.

"You built STATUES for us?!" Wind exclaims, practically bouncing on his heels. "Hah, wait till I tell Tetra about this!" He smiles, nudging Wars.

News has quickly spread through the village, and people have started running out of their houses offering food and gifts. Apples upon apples, pots upon pots- how did they know they like pots??

"Of course we built statues! How else would we send our thanks to you for your heroism!" A women in the crowd calls out, and several mummers of agreement are heard.

"They must be here to bless us and this land!"

"No, they're here to take our offerings and answer our prayers!"

"They're here to gift us with their wisdom and courage!"

"Perhaps they're here to bless our dearest hero and savior?"

They chain pause at that last bit.

"Dearest hero and savior you say?" Wars hums, before nodding. "Yes, we're here for... the last one. We must meet with the hero of this time." He speaks, looking around at the chain, who nod along to him.

"Yes. That is correct, where is he?" Four asks.

The crowd laughs a little bit, nudging each other and mummering.

"Oh, great old ones! Locating the hero is nearly impossible! He never stays in one place for too long, such is the ways of the hero!" A father calls out, cradling his newborn in his arms.

"I'm sure if you just wait, he will stop by. Our dearest hero is always so smart, he always seems to know exactly when people need his aid!" The elderly women speaks, patting Fours head, who sends the elderly women the harshest glare he can muster.

The father that was speaking just a second ago walks up, and holds his baby out to Sky. "Would you please bless my daughter, oh great and wise hero of Skies? I wish her to prosper in life!" He begs. And just like that, the crowd stirs wildly.

"Wait, please, bless my mother for good health, oh hero of Hyrule!"

"Hero of the Four sword, would you bless my weapons for strength!"

"Oh great hero of Time, please, bless my grandfather with more time on this earth!"

"Hero of the Wind, please come bless my boat!"

"Bless our fighters, strong hero of Wars!"

"Hey! Listen! Please bless my farm for good crops and livestock, hero of Twilight!"

"Hero of Legends! Please bless my son for safe travels, won't you?"

As if things couldn't get and weirder, they just did.

"You want us to... bless you?" Wind mumbles, thoroughly confused.

The chain look between themselves, no one quite sure what to say. What does one say when they're quite literally being worshiped? No amount of monster fighting, god slaying, hyrule saving experience prepared them for this.

"Of course! Why else would you be here?" A young teen calls out.

Time takes this opportunity to get a little closer to their goal. "Well, we're hunting strangely strong monsters that bleed black. You wouldn't happen to know of any of these, would you?"

A man in the crowd calls out "Some monsters have been more bold lately!" And several mummers of agreement are heard.

A women wielding a pitchfork lazily in one hand speaks up next. “I fought one of them monsters just a few days ago, and it bled black! Just like you said!”

“Please, this is why we need your blessings!” A young women cries, and the entire crowd seems to agree.

Sky looks to Time, who looks to Wars who in turn looks to Legend, who turns to Hyrule who nudges Four, who looks at Wind who then turns to Twilight, who shrugs.

“Uhm… I, uh… Guess we have some time to kill? Might as well?” Sky says, more of a question then a statement. Time looks around, and nods.

“Okay.. Uh, we’ll bless you.” He decides. The crowd cheers, and people run up with babies in hand, shoving them out for the hero’s to take. Wind happily took the strangers babies, he was used to holding little ones after all. He somehow had three babies at once. Time had two. Legend held the infant he had in front of him, not quite sure what to do with it. Four had a toddler, Twilight had… four babies? Are they not concerned about him dropping them? Erm, anyways… Hyrule held one baby, and stared at it all wide eyed as if it was a bomb that would go off at any moment. I mean, that is sort of how babies work. Wars had two toddlers propped up on his shoulders, and one of which had his scarf in its mouth. Wars could do nothing about this. Sky held a six year olds hand, and the six year old stared up at him all wide eyed.

But now came the real question. How exactly do they bless these kids? Wind decided he would be the one to set up how to bless people. He stood out in front of everyone else and made sure they were watching. He simply kissed the babies foreheads, mumbled something under his breath and then walked back up to the babies mother. “Consider your kids blessed!” The mother gratefully takes back the kids with tears in her eyes. “Oh thank you, wise hero of the Winds!”

The rest of the chain looks at each other, and shrugs, deciding to follow in Winds footsteps. Baby forehead after baby forehead was kissed, then they had to move onto the teens, which was pretty awkward considering half of them are teenagers as well. After that, they had to bless weapons, and houses and boats and even animals. In short, a lot of things were kissed that day. And yet, still no sign of the hero of this land.

Thankfully, they were offered a free stay at the inn, but they were still frustrated.

Morning came early the next day. Children played about in the streets, farmers tended to their crops, but most importantly someone stood beside their bedsides. He was a blond teen with nasty scaring on half of his face, he was missing an ear and had long blond hair, he bore a vibrant blue tunic and a cape with a hood. He looks at the chain, then peers out the window to the statues, then back at the chain. And the chain immediately realizes this is the hero they’re looking for. Mainly because the tallest statue look exactly like him.

“You’re Link, right?” Sky sits up. The new hero nods, looking back at the statues again in pure bewilderment.

“And you’re… the hero’s of old?” He clarifies. Wind nods.

“That’s us!” The teen responds.

“Soo…” the new hero starts. “They gave you the worshipping treatment too?”

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steddieas-shegoes · 11 months

Note

Request: Steve has a few younger siblings. He is very protective over them (2 brothers & 1 baby sister) his family is very close. But the party meeting his siblings in the hospital post spring break from hell, Steve's little sister screams tearfully until she is put beside her older brother who is in hospital due to severe injuries. His younger brothers (8yrs old & 5 yrs old) demand for their big brother to be left alone by these strangers. The party demanded to know why he kept his siblings from them???? Also Steve just being loved on by his parents & his siblings and of the party.

DARLING IDK HOW YOU COME UP WITH THIS STUFF BUT THANK GOD YA DO!!! Steve having siblings and good parents and STILL choosing to be the best damn babysitter is kind of giving me LIFE. I am forever here for giving Steve all the love he deserves. A little backstory for this in my brain: Steve's parents got married right out of high school at their own parents' insistence, and they loved each other, but wanted to go to college first. Anne got pregnant during their honeymoon and had to put college on hold. The reason there's such a big age gap between Steve and his siblings is because she finished college, started working as a lawyer, and then went into business with Richard. Once they were comfortable in that for a couple years, they decided to have more kids. We love responsible decisions!!! - Mickala ❤️

--------------------------------------------------------

Steve spent 12 hours unconscious, which would be more alarming if he hadn’t had worse before. At least this time he was in a hospital for it.

Or maybe that was worse.

His mom was by his side the moment he woke up, along with a pacing Dustin and half-asleep Robin.

“Mom? Where’s Dad?”

“Oh, honey!” Anne Harrington was a strong woman, a lawyer who didn’t take shit from anyone, only cried when Steve won his basketball championship and graduated high school. But here she was, sobbing against his hand tightly grasped in her own. “He’s with your brothers and sister. I didn’t want them to see you like this, honey. You almost died!”

Maybe that was true. He certainly felt like he almost died.

He felt Robin and Dustin staring at them, realized what his mom had said.

“Brothers?” Dustin asked, barely more than a whisper, from the foot of the hospital bed.

“Sister?” Robin asked, a yawn breaking out before she even finished asking.

There was a commotion outside the door, he could hear his father’s voice trying to stay calm as he spoke, but knew he was frustrated.

Then he heard a loud cry and his heart broke.

“Was that Bethany?” Steve croaked, his eyes watering at the wails his three year old sister was letting out.

Anne looked at the mostly closed door, nodding as she turned back to Steve in the bed.

“They’ve been begging to see you since this morning. They wouldn’t stop begging to come, so your dad compromised and said they could sit in the waiting room until you woke up, but they’ve been sitting there for two hours. You know how they get.”

He did. He knew that any compromise they’d agreed to was going to work to their benefit in the end because they were all much too clever for their ages.

Suddenly, the door shot open and his eight year old brother, James, stood there with wide eyes. His five year old brother, Ryan, stood behind him, bouncing on his feet so he could try to see.

His father appeared behind them, holding Bethany in his arms, and looking like he wished he could be anywhere else.

But that look disappeared when he saw that Steve was awake.

“I’m so glad you’re okay, son,” he said, a choked noise making its way from his throat like he would have sobbed if the kids weren’t there.

He could feel the confusion coming from Robin and Dustin, but now wasn’t the time to explain any of it.

“Hey kiddos. You guys okay?” Steve rasped out, giving a small smile to all his siblings.

James and Ryan ran to his bed, climbing onto it carefully when Anne snapped her fingers at them and told them to go slow so they didn’t hurt their brother.

“Down, daddy! Wanna see Steve!” Bethany was kicking her legs and trying to push away from Richard, who sighed and let her down.

She ran to the bed, ignored the warning to go slow, and piled into Steve’s lap.

It hurt, but she was so small, and Steve could deal with some discomfort if it meant she could see he was okay.

“Steve, you have boo-boos!”

He patted her always messy hair, and gave her the best smile he could muster.

“Just a few. I’m gonna get all better soon, though. The doctors just had to put some bandaids on them.”

“Are they Barbie bandaids?”

“Of course they aren’t, Bethany. They’re big and have to be wrapped,” James said.

Steve gripped James’ hand in his.

James was going through a phase of wanting to seem older than he was, which was normal, but he took a lot of it out on Bethany. Bethany could certainly hold her own, and often did, but they were all emotional and under a lot of stress at this moment, so Steve stepped in.

“Buddy, let’s just take it easy today, okay? It’s okay to be scared, but so is Bethany and she’s little, so we have to be patient. Like we talked about, remember?”

“What is happening right now?” Dustin asked, still standing awkwardly at the end of his bed.

“Um. Dustin, Robin, this is Bethany, James is to my left, and Ryan is to my right. These are my brothers and sister.”

“You have siblings.”

It wasn’t a question, but Steve could hear the disbelief in Dustin’s tone.

“I do.”

“You never mentioned them?” Robin asked as she looked at where Richard and Anne were now whispering in the corner of the room.

“It just never really came up?”

“Uh. Okay.”

“Who are these people?” Ryan asked as he turned his face into Steve’s arm, always more shy than his other siblings.

“That’s my best friend, Robin, and Dustin. I used to babysit him and now he’s like another brother.”

“But we’re your brothers,” James said, crossing his arms against his chest.

“Of course. But there’s plenty of room to have Dustin around, too. He’s awesome. He can teach you D&D!”

Bethany was curling up against his chest, at least being more careful now that she’d seen his injuries up close. Ryan was shuffling closer to his side, burying his head under his arm like he did on their family movie nights when he was getting tired but didn’t want anyone to know. James was still tense, jealous.

“Did he teach you D&D?”

“Nah. I told you it’s too complicated for me.”

“Did I hear someone say D&D?” Eddie peeked his head through the door, grin lighting up the room.

“Eddie!” Dustin exclaimed.

“Looks like Steve’s got a whole party in here! Are we playing or what?”

Eddie walked into the room completely, smiling until he realized that Steve’s parents were here.

They got together during chaos; they didn’t have time to talk about logistics, about what Steve’s parents knew about him, if they would even be okay with him.

He’d briefly mentioned his siblings to Eddie when they were getting weapons ready, but didn’t talk much about anything else.

“Eds, these are my parents, Richard and Anne,” Steve introduced them, winking at his mom when she gave him a questioning look.

He’d been out to his parents for months, accidentally letting slip that he’d gone on a date with a guy on their Christmas vacation. They took it well overall, the shock making it seem like they were upset, but they were just confused about why he’d only ever brought home girls.

“Mom, Dad, this is my boyfriend, Eddie.”

Eddie’s eyes practically bulged out of his head when he realized what Steve was doing.

“Ew, a boyfriend?” James, already back to his previous attitude, curled his lip up in disgust.

He looked so like Steve sometimes, it was alarming. If they were out running errands together, people often assumed he was his son.

“James! Watch your tone!” Anne said as she reached out a hand to shake Eddie’s. “It’s lovely to meet you, Eddie. I assume you’re the one who helped carry Steve to safety?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“So polite. Who would’ve thought Steve found someone so nice?” Richard said with a smirk and a wink at Steve.

“Are you in love?” Bethany asked as she watched Eddie from her spot against Steve’s chest.

Steve could feel his face heat up, watched as Eddie’s face went red and he looked down at the floor.

“We care about each other a lot, B,” Steve replied, hoping she would drop it.

“But he saved you! Like a princess!”

Eddie let out a small laugh as he got closer to the bed and sat down on the edge.

“Well, you look like a princess, too. What’s your name?” He asked, glancing up at Steve for a moment to make sure it was okay he sat there. Steve nodded once.

“Beffany.”

“Princess Bethany? Of Loch Nora?”

Bethany looked at Anne to confirm, nodding as soon as her mom gave her a thumbs up.

Eddie stood back up, bowed, and then sat down again.

“It’s an honor to be in your presence, your highness.”

“Are you a knight?” she asked as she scooted away from Steve’s chest and off his lap, climbing her way into Eddie’s.

Ryan was even pulling away slightly to watch what was going on.

“I wish! I haven’t been through all of my training yet. Maybe you could help me?”

“What kinda trainin’?” Bethany started playing with his hair, but Eddie didn’t stop her, wanted her to feel comfortable while Steve recovered.

“I need to learn my royal etiquette. Do you think you can show me?”

“Yes! We have lessons!”

“Great!” Eddie beamed at her. “Maybe you can give me lessons when your brother goes home?”

“Mommy! Can Eddie come play?”

“Of course. But not today. Steve has to keep resting here for a couple days and I think Eddie probably wants to be here for him.”

“Okay. I stay too?”

“No, baby. We have to let Steve rest some more. We can come back to visit tomorrow.”

Steve felt Ryan and James cling to his arms when they realized that meant they were all leaving.

“But Robin and Dustin are staying!” James was jealous. He loved spending time with Steve, thrived on being considered “mature” enough to run errands with him when their parents were busy, helping him with chores because he was the only one big enough.

Dustin was a threat to his time with Steve, even at eight he could tell.

“Actually, I passed Dustin’s mom on the way here and she was coming to get him soon to go home. He hurt his ankle and shouldn’t even be walking around right now,” Eddie said, eyes squinting in Dustin’s direction like they’d already discussed this once.

“And I have to get home to my parents so they don’t worry. Maybe you can walk me to the bus stop and keep me safe?” Robin asked, somewhat awkwardly.

She didn’t know how to talk to kids, but it was a valiant attempt.

And it seemed to work.

James perked up at the thought of helping in a big kid way.

“Oh, darling, we can drop you off at your house on our way home,” Anne said. “I’ll take you and James can walk with us so we aren’t alone. Right, James?”

James nodded vigorously.

“I’ll protect you. And then we can come back tomorrow to see if Steve’s better.”

Steve leaned down and kissed the top of Ryan’s head, smiling when he realized he fell asleep at some point during the conversation.

“He barely slept last night. I’ll carry him. Hopefully now that he’s seen you’re alive and okay he can rest,” Richard said with a sad smile.

“If you bring them all tomorrow morning, I can help them make character sheets for D&D,” Eddie suggested.

“Yes! Please, dad! Can we?” James bounced in the bed, jostling everyone a bit.

Steve hissed in pain, but tried to cover it with a smile when James looked at him with an apologetic look.

“Sure. If you promise to sleep tonight and eat breakfast in the morning, we can come back.”

“I promise!” James poked Ryan. “Ryan! Promise you’ll sleep tonight and have breakfast in the morning so we can come play D&D!”

Ryan blinked a few times, nodded, then snuggled back into Steve’s side.

As Richard and Anne worked on gathering the kids and Robin and Dustin walked out with them, Steve relaxed in the hospital bed, finally feeling most of his injuries.

He knew they would give him more pain meds if he asked, but he wanted a few minutes with Eddie first.

“Hey.”

“Hey, sweetheart,” Eddie said as he took his hand in his own, gently squeezing as he made himself comfortable on the side of the bed.

“Thanks for being so cool with them,” Steve let his eyes close for a moment as he took in every wound on his body.

He knew this was a close one, could tell by the way Eddie was looking at him a moment ago.

“You never told anyone else about them?”

Steve shook his head.

“Didn’t really need to. I figured they’d all meet eventually. Just never came up before.”

“Want me to get the nurse?” Eddie could tell he didn’t want to talk about it right now, so he changed the subject quickly.

“In a minute. Wanna kiss you.”

“Oh yeah? Come kiss me then.”

Steve opened one eye and started pouting.

“You come kiss me,” Steve said.

“Fine. But only because you’re hurting.”

Eddie leaned down to press his lips against Steve’s softly, a comfort as much as a promise for more when he was better.

“You’ll stay?”

“Yeah, sweetheart. Just gonna get the nurse and grab a snack from the machine down the hall and then I’m all yours for the night.”

“Can’t wait to feel better.”

“I know. Maybe next time you won’t try to be a hero, hm?”

“No, I don’t care about the pain or anything.”

“Then…”

“I want you to fuck me.”

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie choked. “Are you always like this or are there still some drugs in your system?”

“Dunno. Never felt like this with anyone else.”

“Stevie…”

“You’re good with them. Especially Bethany. She’s a lot. But you did good. Good for my nuggets.”

Steve was slowly losing consciousness and Eddie couldn’t help the fond smile creeping up on his face.

“They seem like good gremlins. They sure love you a lot,” Eddie whispered.

“Mhm. Love you.”

“Oh. I don’t think they know me well enough to love me yet, sweetheart, but that’s nice of you to say,” Eddie scrambled to get out, his heart flipping over in his chest at the thought that that wasn’t what Steve meant.

“No.” Steve opened his eyes, staring right at Eddie. “I do. I love you.”

It was crazy. Probably a product of his injuries, exhaustion, and drug cocktail in his system. He probably thought he loved him, but they’d only just gotten together officially.

“Eds. It’s okay. I’m just lettin’ you know how I feel. You don’t have to say it back.”

“I just. I. I think I love you too. I just don’t see how you love me.”

“‘S easy.”

Just that easy.

Like Steve would have said it whether he was in the hospital or not.

—------------

The next morning, James, Ryan, and Bethany planted themselves on Steve’s bed while Eddie explained character sheets to them.

Steve watched with a smile as all of his siblings watched Eddie in awe.

His family meant the world to him, and Eddie did too. He wanted things to always be like this.

When Eddie smiled at him over James’ shoulder a while later, he thought that maybe they would be.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steve harrington has good parents #steve harrington has siblings #hurt/comfort #this was what sleep deprived me came up with and im keeping it #not steve planning out his six nuggets with eddie the moment he sees him with his siblings #but also yes that

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dilemmaontwolegs · 10 months

Text

The Aftermath || LN4 {13}

Pairing: Lando Norris x widow!reader Summary: Lando is still struggling with his anxiety and it seems to only grows with time as he tried to balance work and parenting. Warnings: 18+ only, hurt/comfort, mentions of dad!PND WC: 3.4K

F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten || Eleven || Twelve || Thirteen || Epilogue

“I thought this was supposed to get easier,” Lando grumbled as you sat in bed, your laptop screen filled with his image. The bright late afternoon sun was streaming through the window in your room but it was night where Lando was in Miami. “I feel like I’m letting everyone down. I can’t concentrate on the race because I’m thinking about you two, and I can’t be at home because of the race…I hate this.”

“I don’t know if it's easier, but I guess it will become a new normal in time. We’ll be with you at the next three races, just have to make it through this one.”

“I need this two week break to hurry up and arrive. I just need to be able to go to put Ren to bed and tuck her in,” startled cries sounded from the cot across the room as Renleigh woke from her nap, “and I need to be there to pick her up when she cries. I think I’m going out of my mind.”

The catch in his voice broke your heart and you grabbed your phone off the bedside so you could message Max. “You don’t know how much I wish I could take away the hurt you’re feeling, Lan. I don’t want you to be alone so Max is getting on the first flight he can. And before you argue, he is happy to do it. We are both worried about you, babe.”

“No offence, love, but I don’t need Max, I need my family.” He dropped his chin onto his hand with a sigh.

“I’m just a phone call away, day or night. But if you want snuggles, Max will have to do for a few more nights.”

You left the laptop for a moment so you could reach into the cot and bring Ren over to see her daddy, waving her little hand to the camera. A smile finally graced his lips as he waved back and leaned closer to the screen to kiss his camera.

Placing her on the bed, you both watched her try to crawl towards Lando. “That’s it, my girl,” he praised as she rocked forward before face planting into the soft blankets. “Getting there, you’ll be racing around in no time.”

“Speaking of racing, you should be getting ready for bed,” you reminded him gently. “Max will be there in the morning to keep you company and you know you can talk to him about anything.”

“You make it sound like I need counselling,” he joked but it fell flat when you shrugged. “I’m fine.”

“Okay, it’s just…your job is already so stressful, then the addition of a baby…it’s a big change and it’s alright to admit that. Dads can get PND too.”

“Really?” His brows pinched together as he fell silent.

“Even if you are fine, I think talking to someone else might still help. Remember when you got me to go to counselling? You said it wasn’t anything to be ashamed of and it isn’t.”

He didn’t look convinced as he muttered, “yeah, maybe.”

“Just think about it,” you suggested as he started to yawn. “And get some rest, babe. I love you.”

You felt like you had come out of hibernation as you sat beside Lando, your fingers entwined as he drove to Imola. Since giving birth you had hardly travelled anywhere, opting to keep Renleigh’s arrival private, so everyone close enough to know about her came to your house to visit her. That would all change on Sunday and to say you were nervous was the mother of all understatements.

Your stomach was tied up in knots just thinking about trying to navigate the busy paddock with your precious baby. Lando had already organised plenty of security to escort you everywhere but your overthinking and paranoia whispered that there were still so many things that could go wrong. It lingered even when you tried to focus on the here and now.

The radio played quietly in the background but it was Ren that you listened to, her babbling in response to Lando’s chattering keeping you both entertained and distracted. You turned in the seat to see her smile in the small mirror and her papaya socks kicking in the air.

“Someone is excited to make her debut,” Lando said with a chuckle. He gripped the wheel with one hand and the other came to rest on your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. There had hardly been a moment where he wasn’t holding some part of you since his return, needing the comfort of your touch to ground himself and suppress his growing anxiety.

This was the most relaxed he had been in months and you smiled back at him, grateful that your husband was returning to his old self.

“Why are you smiling like that?” he asked with a nervous laugh between glances as he drove.

“Do you ever just stop and think ‘I have never been happier than I am at this moment’?” you asked as you traced the beauty spots that dotted his arm like a constellation of stars that would always lead you home. “It’s almost painful how happy I am right now, like my heart is going to burst right out of my chest.”

“Please don’t,” he chuckled, reaching up to stroke your cheek before concentrating back on the road. “That was me this morning, well, every morning I wake up beside you. Seeing the sunlight catch your hair, the peace on your face when you bury it in my neck and snore.”

Ren’s arms startled into the air at the sudden laugh you barked and Lando’s grin grew at the sound of pure, unfiltered joy. “That was almost romantic! You were so close to a blowjob, until you lied.”

“You do snore, and it’s cute!” he stated seriously before casting you a sly smile. “So about that blowjob…”

You leaned over the console and kissed the sharp line of his jaw, tracing the curve to his ear. “Tell me I snore one more time.” He clamped his lips closed and you smirked as you sat back in the seat. “Smart man.”

Lando put the car in park and turned the engine off but made no move to open the door as he sat quietly with his hands still on the wheel. His qualifying had gone great the day before and he was starting the race in P3 but the race was far from his mind as he looked at the high fence ahead, knowing the circuit was just on the other side.

“What if we are doing the wrong thing?”

“Lan, we can’t keep her bubble wrapped for the rest of her life. And we are going to make mistakes, that’s just a fact, but there’s only one way to find out.” You looked out the window and saw a group of men wearing McLaren shirts that showed off their large muscles. “Your papaya army has arrived, and they bought the big guns too.”

Lando snorted and relaxed a little, though the wariness never left his eyes as he unbuckled his seatbelt and stole a kiss. “Thank you.”

Lando’s fingers tightened around yours and he placed his other hand protectively over Renleigh’s back. He had debated putting her into the stroller that remained folded up in the car boot but the need to keep her close made him strap the front pack to his chest. Every few steps his head would dip down and he would place a tender kiss to the top of her head, whispering soothing words that were more for himself than her.

“What’s the weather forecast?” you asked as you tipped your head back to the skies and wondered if you had imagined the kiss of raindrop on your skin.

“Chance of rain, but it should only be light.” He took a look around himself and narrowed his eyes at the grey clouds on the horizon before picking up the pace a little. His quick walk stalled when he reached the paddock gates and patted his pockets for his pass to scan and swore under his breath.

“Looking for this?” you teased as you pulled his pass out of your pocket along with yours.

“Have I told you how much I missed having you here?” he said as he took his pass and scanned it, his photo popping up on the little screen before he stepped through the barrier.

“You may have mentioned it once or twice. Is Maria here already?”

Lando nodded, mentioning he had messaged her earlier and she had already arrived at the track with Zak.

“Maybe grand-mere can look after you for a little while,” you whispered as you tickled Ren’s feet through her socks. “Then mummy and daddy can sneak off to his room for a few minutes.”

“Minutes?” Lando scoffed at the insult and you grinned knowing his competitive side was coming out despite the fact the man’s stamina was far longer.

“If you want to prove me wrong…”

“I’ve done that multiple times a day, for the last two weeks, love,” he smirked as he whispered in your ear as you walked along. “But if your memory is that bad, I’m sure I can remind you.”

Your reply was lost as a huge swell of people came into view through the gaps in the wall of muscle ahead, the chaotic screams suddenly piercing the air as Lando was spotted by the crowd. Your mouth was still parted in shock but the sound of a shaky breath didn’t come from your lips.

“Can we get to the garage, please?” you asked the head of security and he nodded, just as eager to make it through the mass of people.

As effortless as Lando made it seem, he was never truly comfortable in large crowds and the birth of his daughter had only increased his social anxiety. You could feel it now as his palm heated against yours, his skin clammy and grip tightening to an almost painful hold. He was using you to anchor himself and fight back the panic so you bit the inside of your cheek and let him crush your hand.

“Almost there, baby,” you soothed as the men moved to the shape of an arrow that speared the crowd apart.

Cameras flashed and fans screamed as they spotted the baby tucked into Lando’s chest, just the brown tufts of her curls visible. Those too were hidden as Lando cupped the back of her head and hummed a sweet lullaby to distract himself from the questions thrown his way. There was no way he could bring himself to stop and answer any of them until Ren was safely in the McLaren area, he couldn’t risk her safety among the strangers. It was only when he caught sight of the grey and orange coloured motorhome that he could muster up the courage to slip his hand away from yours and offer a small wave.

The fear and reservations you had held never had time to surface while you focused on Lando but when you passed the doors and the outside world was silenced you finally breathed a sigh of relief. “We did it, Lan.”

“I don’t like this,” he admitted as he continued to his driver room. A bassinet was already set up with McLaren blankets and it made his lips twitch into an almost smile as you helped him to take Ren out of the front pack. “I can’t believe she slept through all that.”

He placed her into the bassinet and tucked her in while you wrapped your arms around his waist and kissed his shoulder. You knew it wouldn’t be long until she woke up for a feed as a heaviness ached in your breasts so you had to make the most of the quiet moments while you could, dragging Lando to the couch and forcing him to sit down.

“What’s going on in that handsome head of yours?” you asked as you combed your fingers through his hair and tugged the stands so he looked at you. “Talk to me.”

“I thought having you both here would be easier, but I still feel sick,” he admitted after a minute of drawn out silence. “I need you here, don’t get me wrong, I hated being away from you but now I can't…I don’t even know how to explain it.”

You waited patiently for him to collate his thoughts, holding his hand while he watched Ren sleep peacefully. He longed for that peacefulness too.

“Infinite possibilities, it’s something Andrea gets us to think about when we race. One move can make a difference, one millimetre off the line could be the difference between the fastest lap or ending up in the gravel. Every action has an infinite amount of possibilities and it’s my job to figure out which is most likely to happen.” He took a deep breath from his quiet ramblings and exhaled a long sigh as he slowed down his words. “I can’t stop thinking about the infinite possibilities with Ren. Every bad thing that could happen, everything that could go wrong, I see it in my head. All. The. Time. I can’t stop.”

His words died out with a sob and you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into your embrace as he fell apart. This was the moment you had been expecting, though it was still gut wrenching to witness. All the ups and downs this season had been leading to one cataclysmic peak where he had to release the pent up thoughts he had tried to suppress.

“Do you remember that day at Silverstone, the first time I came back to the paddock?” You knew he was listening by the way he held his breath to silence the sobs that jolted his shoulders. Rubbing his back softly, you kissed his temple and stared at the poster on the wall, seeing how much his face had matured in the last four years.

“When I sat in your room alone it was like time stood still. I had so much time to think that I imagined every horror scenario of you and your car and that fear made my stomach turn. I couldn’t eat anything all day,” you admitted as he pulled back with shimmering eyes and damp cheeks. “But the moment I saw you napping in the cockpit of your car I could finally think again. Not a single one of those scenarios came close to what was actually happening in that moment.”

You wiped his eyes and cupped his face in your hands. “It doesn’t matter that there’s endless possibilities for how the future might go, Lando. All that matters is this moment, and wasting time thinking about things that may never even happen only makes us miss out on today.”

“You aren’t scared we are making the wrong decisions?”

“Of course I’m scared, babe. But I know the man I married and I know that the decisions we make, whether they are right or wrong, come from a good place.” You placed a hand over his heart, feeling the bump under his shirt of the necklace he wore for Ren. “That’s the best any parent can hope for.”

His hand came to rest over yours for a moment before he lifted it to his lips and kissed your wedding ring. “I need to go but I’ll be back before the race starts.”

You nodded as he went to the small bathroom and washed his face, looking clear headed and calm once more. “Are you alright?” you asked as he started to undress and grab his fireproofs from the closet.

He pulled the skin tight material over his head and looked at your reflection in the mirror. “No, but I will be.”

The honesty was more relieving despite his words and you were glad he hadn’t just lied and said he was fine.

With a small smile, he leaned into the bassinet and kissed Ren’s cheek. “I love you, little lady, more than anything in this whole wide world.”

Five years after Imola had stolen your breath away, it had done it again. This time your voice was hoarse from the screams of support and happiness as Lando won the race.

It was as if all the tears ever shed at the circuit were released from the heavens to cascade upon the track with only three laps to go. Max and Charles had just passed the pit entrance before the deluge fell but Lando had made the split second decision to box and change to full wets. He had quickly caught up with the better grip and took the lead when they pitted on the next lap.

You hadn’t been able to move from where you stood rooted on the balcony in front of the home straight. Lando had always been able to dance in the rain, making his car sing in harmony to the beat of the drops on the blacktop. This was his element, but every turn gave you heart palpitations.

Yellow flags flew as some drivers tried their luck with their slicks, praying the rain would pass, only to spin out when they hit a puddle. One rookie aquaplaned off the track, leaving tire ruts in the grass, before rejoining the track and you gasped as Lando had to swerve to avoid him.

“We saw there was a close call on that final turn. How stressful was that?”

“It was scary, so scary. Knowing that my wife was watching just ahead, and seeing that car come right in front of me…my wife and my daughter, they were all I could think about. It’s so wet out there, turn too quick and there’s just no grip, nothing to keep me on the track. I was certain I was gone when that car came at me.”

Lando brushed his cap off and combed his hair as his lips pressed tight to hide the tremble. “It was so scary. You just have no idea what it’s like in those split seconds where you react on instinct and don’t know if you have just saved your life or forfeited it. It’s a risk, and I used to find it fun when I was younger but not now. I have too much to risk now.”

You cradled Ren closer as the McLaren team let you through to the front of the barrier. You hadn’t planned on stepping out of the motorhome but Lando was clearly not okay and you needed to get to him.

“It’s hard to be excited over winning when I thought I had just about made my wife a widow again, or that my daughter was going to grow up and not know me,” he said, answering another question that you had missed as you navigated your way out of the garage. “As much as I love this sport, and I am grateful for all the people who have helped me to get to where I am, I love my family more.”

He seemed to sense you in the crowd and Renleigh started to cry in your arms as you reached the barrier. The reporter followed him as he crossed the short distance and pressed his sweaty forehead to yours. “I’m going to be alright,” he whispered for only you to hear before he took Ren, who instantly settled on his shoulder, as the crowd ‘awww’d at the sight.

“I have been thinking hard about this for the last few months,” he continued as he gently bounced Ren back to sleep, “but this will be my last season in Formula One. I have always put 100% into what means the most to me and I haven’t been able to do that with racing taking me away from my family.”

The shock that rippled through the crowd and stunned the reporter into silence didn’t reach you. You had seen the look in his eyes when he parked in front of the 1st place signage and pulled his helmet off. He hadn’t thrown his hands in the air, he hadn’t waved to the crowd or his team. He had fallen to his knees and ripped his gloves off to feel the solid ground beneath his palms as the rain continued to fall.

The microphone shifted to you as you watched Lando hold Ren tighter and brush his lips over her dark curls. “It must have been harrowing to watch that last lap, especially since it wasn’t far from where you laid a wreath earlier today.”

“I trust every decision Lando makes. I knew he would make it through,” you said with a reassuring smile to your husband as you clutched the necklace that held your first wedding ring. “And every year when I visit I ask René to watch over him. Maybe he was listening all this time.”

Click here for the epilogue.

Tagging: @yunnie-f1 @neiich @zendayabelova @stillbreathin @dr3lover @writerscurse @christianpulisic10 @alwaysclassyeagle @alexisquinnlee-bc @purplephantomwolf @lightsoutletsgo @pleasantducktimetravel @pierre-gasllllllyyyyyy @holy-macncheese-balls @belennasif @ophcelia @love4lando @ryiamarie @mickslover @tyna-19

#lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 rpf #f1 fanfic #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fanfiction

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theplaid-wearingmoose · 1 year

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~Namor x Reader smut~

Just saw this post talking about Namor being able to go down on a girl for hours because he can breathe through his skin and i am an absolute whore for this man so a bitch is gonna write about it. that's the tweet, thank you.

Warnings: Overstimulation obvi, rough-ish Namor, some begging that gets ignored

"I-In yakunaj!! Please!" Your begging fell on deaf ears for the hundredth time. He had gone without seeing you for too many weeks and he wasn't stopping until he had pulled every last possible bit of pleasure from you.

You had waited for him at your usual secluded spot. You sat on the white sandy beach and watched the waves fall on the shore. The water was slightly cold as it washed over your feet. The breeze blowing the salty air around you. You waited until you saw him rise from the water. You started to stand and rush to greet him but the way he strode from the ocean up the beach towards you made you pause. "In yakunaj? Is there something wrong?" He didn't answer you. His eyes were dark and hungry as he quickly made his way to you. He knelt down to your eye level and pulled you roughly to him. His lips crushed yours before you could speak again. You let out a squeak of surprise that quickly turned into a soft whimper as his hands began to explore your body beneath him. "I have been without you for too long, In yakunaj. You are mine."

His warm hands ran slowly down your sides before reaching the knot of the wrap you wore. With one skillful tug, it came undone and you were left with just your bathing suit. "What have I told you about wearing these layers when I come to see you?" He growled, his deep brown eyes staring into yours. You let out a nervous chuckle. "These are hardly layers, In ajawo. You want me to just be bare out here in the sand?"

Another growl left him as he pulled your bottoms off and moved between your legs with lightning speed. "Yes...I do." He hummed. You didn't have much time to register what he was doing before you felt his tongue flick over your clit. Gasping loudly, your head fell back and your hands flew to his wet hair. "Ohhh K'uk'ulkan..."

That was how you ended up like this. Your body had been through one earth-shattering orgasm after another. It felt like it had been hours. You didn't even know many orgasms he had pulled from you but it seemed unending. His skilled mouth hadn't left you since he started. His face was soaked with your wetness and still he continued. At some point he had added his fingers and curled them deep inside you. Maybe around orgasm number eight?

"Please...In ajawo....I-I c-can't...I c-cant cum anymore! I-It's too much!" You cried, you hands grasping fistfuls of the sand beside you, the only thing you could use for support. The overstimulation had your head reeling. His mouth felt so good but you felt lightheaded and nearly ready to pass out. The only time he paused his work was to look at you with a look that was almost pitying. "I think you can give me one more, In reina. You've been doing so well so far. In ma'alo'ob ch'úupalo'." You choked out a moan as he pressed a gentle kiss to your swollen clit. "One more and I will let you rest." He crooned.

You cried out as his tongue replaced his fingers inside you. Your hips rolled against his face on their own. Your thighs threatened to close around his head from the pleasure but his strong arms wrapped around them, holding you open for him, as if he knew you would try that. You didn't even know what to do with your hands anymore. You roamed them over your breasts and down to his hair, tugging it as you rode his face.

K'uk'ulkan groaned and moved his head up and down quicker. You felt his lips wrap around your clit and you nearly screamed as he gently sucked on it. His fingers returned to their place inside you, moving fast and deep. You could feel your throat going dry from use. Your nth orgasm approached quickly and your lover paused once more to smile wickedly at you. "Cum for me, In reina..in yakunaj..." He lowered his mouth back to your dripping pussy but he kept his eyes locked on your face. "Look at me." He commanded. His deep voice rumbled in your ears and you quivered against his face. His fingers sped up as you clenched around them. K'uk'ulkan moaned as he tasted you. You were soaked like this for him and he wanted more. He would pull this last one out of you and drink in everything you gave him.

Your back arched off the sand and your heels dug in deep as another orgasm coursed through you. His body pinned you beneath him and he did not stop until he cleaned you completely.

You inhaled as deeply as you could. You barely felt him pull away from you and move himself up to lay next to you. He pulled your trembling body to his chest and wrapped his arms around you. You felt him press a gentle kiss to your forehead. "You did so well, In yakunaj. Táan in jach ku yu'ubikuba ti' teechi'." He kissed you again and sighed. "Rest now...I haven't finished with you just yet..."

In yakunaj: my love

In reina: my queen

In ajawo: my king

In ma'alo'ob ch'úupalo': my good girl

Táan in jach ku yu'ubikuba ti' teechi: I'm so proud of you

#namor smut #namor x reader #namor x reader smut #namor the sub mariner #black panther wakanda forever #kukulkan x reader #kukulkan x reader smut

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mknightgrant · 2 years

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Silence

Pairing(s): Steven Grant x Reader, implied Steven Grant/Marc Spector x Layla El-Faouly

Word count: 5.1K. Buckle up, folks.

Warning(s): Insecurities and heavy angst. I cried while thinking of the concept, and I’m hoping this does my idea justice. Set after the finale, so there are spoilers!

A/N: Hello! This is my first time writing a fic and posting it, so please be gentle! This piece is purely based on research and the events of the series. I am not a system, nor do I know anyone who is a system. If any part of this piece offends anyone, please let me know. No offense is intended.

This is also not completely beta-read, so the mistakes are on me.

Summary: You should’ve stopped asking questions.

Taglist: @s-v-e-l-t-e, @caroldanvours

Everyone had warned you about the rose-tinted glasses. Your friends, your family, hell, and even your old college professors used to tell stories about how love could be either the best or worst thing that you could ever experience. It was a risk to put your heart entirely into the hands of a stranger, giving them the liberty to do whatever they wanted to it. Love it, cradle it, protect it, sure—but also poke it, stab it, and break it to the point of no return.

But with Steven Grant? It was a risk you were definitely willing to take.

You had been friends with him for five months and had been dating for at least eight before he disappeared without a trace. You were confused, to say the least. In the year or so that you have known him, you never would have expected him to disappear and cut all ties with you. But still, you waited. You waited with the hope that maybe he’d come back home to you.

However, when Steven did return, he was conflicted. He honestly believed that you wouldn’t wait for him, especially since there was no effort on his part to try and contact you after his sudden disappearance. Nonetheless, he felt that he at least owed you an explanation, and his heart squeezed in his chest when you didn’t leave when he told you about everything.

He explained it from the start, his sleeping disorder, how he tried staying up because he had hyper-realistic dreams that scared the hell out of him. You already knew of this early on in the relationship, but then he continued the story, telling you about Marc, about Khonshu, and everything that had happened to him from the day he got fired from the museum to the day he came back home to you. You've noticed that he seemed happier now, probably because he understood why he had been losing days of his life, and he’s come to accept and love his alter despite everything.

But there was also another reason, wasn’t there?

Maybe it was your fault. You shouldn’t have asked too many questions. You should’ve just taken what he told you, accepted the anecdotes, and moved forward. You should’ve just been happy that he was here and safe. But you just had to ask, right?

“Who’s Layla?” Your innocent question stopped him dead in the middle of his sentence as the grin he donned slowly faded into a tight-lipped smile. One he had hoped would be a little more reassuring than nervous, and maybe, if he hadn’t taken so long to reply, you wouldn’t have been suspicious.

“A friend of Marc’s.” His reply was short and simple. “I… She was the one who came over that day, remember? When you dropped off that book you borrowed from me? Before I… Before I disappeared?”

Oh. Of course, you remember Layla–well, her physical attributes, at least. To say that she was gorgeous was an understatement. She was breathtaking, ethereal, and a goddess at the least. However, you hadn’t heard whatever they were talking about when you knocked on the apartment door that day because they stopped talking before Steven opened the door, enough for him to peek out at you.

Steven’s heart raced as he studied your reaction to his reply, trying to gauge whether or not you heard his and Layla’s conversation. Surely you hadn’t, right? You had no idea about the scarab before he told you about it when he had returned. So that would mean that you probably hadn’t heard the conversation, and you hadn’t seen the way he looked at her the way he once looked at you. You wouldn’t have waited this long for him if you had, right?

He hadn’t meant to fall for her, but he couldn’t help himself, could he? The second his arms instinctively wrapped around her waist when she drove a little faster towards his apartment, and he was hit with “I’m still your wife,” things changed. His mouth moved on its own accord that day as Layla handed him the divorce papers he–technically, Marc–had sent.

“I would never divorce you.”

Then everything came crashing down after that. Marc had warned him against showing Layla the scarab, but she got around to it anyway, so it was too late. Steven had begged for her help, trying to explain the whole situation, and the entire thing merely confused Layla even more.

“You really don't remember why we've been looking for this? Our adventures. Or our life together?”

“Oh, God, I wish I could.”

You had come knocking on the door only a few minutes later, a smile on your face as you held up his newer copy of Marceline Desbordes-Valmore’s book of poetry. “Steven! Hi! I finally got around to reading this, but I have to say that I don’t exactly ge-”

Your words were abruptly cut off when Steven dragged you into the apartment, shutting the door behind you. None of you were quite sure why he had done that, but now that he’s thinking about it, maybe Marc had been the reason for it all.

You hadn’t had enough time to properly introduce yourself to Layla, and likewise, because the moment your eyes lay upon her, you froze. Who was she?

The following events flew by too quickly for you to properly grasp at the time. The police knocking on the door, Steven gently urging you to hide, the police making accusations against him, then just silence.

By the time you believed that the coast was clear, they were gone. The police were gone. The woman was gone. Steven was gone. You had tried going around the area, searching through the different police stations for him, and you had even gone back to the museum to ask if they had changed their mind and were pressing charges. Sadly, nothing. He wasn’t at any of the police stations, nor did the museum change their minds. So you did the only thing you could do at the time. You waited.

You texted him, called him, and left voicemails for him. Hell, you even resorted to emailing him a couple of times, just to see if your messages would reach him. All your efforts were unanswered, and you truly had no idea of his whereabouts until he came back home to you.

Sure, you’d seen the news about the happenings in Cairo, but never in a million years would you have thought that your boyfriend was the one donning the white suit.

“Oh!” A smile graced your lips, having merely associated the name with the pretty girl who once stood in the apartment. “I remember her! She helped you guys out? That’s amazing!”

You were completely unaware that Steven left out an important detail: that Layla was his alter’s wife. In the short period that he had been gone and away from you, he had kissed her and had fallen in love with her too.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Days passed, and you had been invited to the apartment numerous times throughout the week, but you weren’t complaining. You missed Steven, quite frankly, you also wanted to know more about Marc. You had encountered him a couple times when he had been fronting, but your interactions never lasted too long. Steven was usually requested for control whenever you were around, but you were aware of his alter since Steven had explained that they recently learned how to become co-conscious. That didn’t mean that they knew every waking life of the other, but at least the blackouts and memory gaps have lessened considerably.

On random occasions, Steven would continue to tell you stories about what had taken place in Cairo. Some stories were repeats of what he had told you in previous days, while others were memories he had just remembered and wanted to tell you. Sometimes, he’d tell you his thoughts about the event or other questions he had, only to piece the answer together halfway through asking you.

It was the simple moments like these that made you happy, really. To have Steven beside you on the bed, rambling about anything that came to his mind. You didn’t mind when he would tell you a story he had already told you, and you definitely didn’t mind when he would go into the technicalities of the event.

Though, there was one thing you noticed to have become a recurring topic: Layla. He would bring her up unconsciously, really, or at least, that’s what you would want to believe. But as the days passed, her name frequented his lips more often, and it felt different. It was almost as if he asked you about her daily, bringing her up as if she was the only waking thought he had. If it weren’t for the accent, you would have honestly thought Marc was fronting. She was his friend first, right?

“Do you think she’s okay? I-I mean, Marc and I were Khonshu‘s avatar, and he was just downright manipulative.” He turned his head to glance at you, “Taweret… Taweret, on the other hand… we met in that afterlife I told you about, yeah? She seemed nice. Helped us escape the Duat and all that, but… I just can't help but wonder, you know? Do you think Taweret is treating her right?” His question remained unanswered as he turned his gaze back up to the ceiling of his apartment, his fingers intertwined and resting on the soft flesh of his stomach.

You were lying on your side as you looked at him, heart clenching in your chest as you studied the way his eyes shone under the moonlight. It took you a couple of seconds before you were able to bring yourself to nod slowly, swallowing the lump that you hadn’t noticed formed in your throat.

“I’m sure she’s doing alright, Steven. She does sound pretty badass, yeah? She’s saved you and Marc quite a lot, hasn’t she?” Your voice was small as you replied to him, a wave of insecurity wafting over you as things began clicking together in your brain.

“Yeah? Yeah. She did save us when she freed Khonshu! I swear, though, you should’ve seen her in her armor, love! She looked amazing. I don’t even think I was able to greet her properly, really. Could you believe that? Marc and I were conversing about it the other day, right? And…”

You toned out his words as you continued to observe the way his mouth moved, how his lips flicked up to a gentle smile as he talked about her, and how he continued to ramble on and on about her. Utterly oblivious to your thoughts, more so to your feelings. You’ve seen this kind of look before.

To be fair, you had been thinking about it for a while. You tried convincing yourself that she had just become a close friend that he began to care about. That he was just concerned about her well-being since she had agreed to become an avatar of an Egyptian goddess, and he nor Marc didn’t exactly have the best time as Khonshu’s avatar. However, the more you studied his words and actions, things became clearer and clearer. It wasn’t until a gentle call of your name snapped you out of your thoughts, causing your eyes to lock with Steven’s worried ones.

“You… Are you in love, Steven?” You dared to ask, causing silence to fill the room once again. A silence that lasted a couple moments as Steven furrowed his brows, and his hesitation in giving you an answer was already an answer itself.

The more he talked about her, the more you were able to analyze his reactions and facial expressions and damn yourself for having seen that look in the past. Damn yourself for recognizing it.

You’ve seen it in the way your father looked at your mother. You saw it in the way your best friend’s spouse looked at them on their wedding day. You recognized it because it was the same look he used to have when he would talk about you.

“What?” He asked, confusion filling his expressions as he shifted on the bed to bring all of his attention to you. “Of course, I’m in love, sweetheart. I’m in love with you.”

Normally, his expression of love would have you all shy and red in the cheeks, but that wasn’t the case this time. “It’s just…” you frowned, bringing your attention to the ceiling. Roles had been reversed at this point, with you on your back and Steven on his side, facing you. “I’ve seen this look of yours before, you know? It’s the look of a man who’s fallen in love…” your voice trailed off at the end, pursing your lips as you tried to get your emotions in check. The can of worms has been opened, right? There isn’t much of a way back from it now. “It’s the look you used to have for me.”

Steven frowned as well. “Used to have? Darling, I don’t know what you’re going on about?”

You chose to ignore his comment, another question leaving your lips before you could even process the thought.

“Who is she to you, Steven? Who is Layla to you?” There was a slight shake in your tone, “You.. You said she’s a friend of Marc, yeah? But who is she to you?”

His eyes softened at the question, pursing his lips in response. If he were to be honest with you, he didn’t know who she was to him at this point. Was he attracted to her? Had he actually fallen in love with her in that quick of a timeframe?

Steven had always prided himself in the fact that he didn’t fall in love too quickly. Sure, he had casual crushes from the museum and friend crushes around the town, but this was different–Layla was different.

His brain often short-circuited when he was around her, and he just couldn’t help but admire everything about her. Maybe it was their shared interest in hieroglyphics and astronomy, or maybe it was something about her beauty in general, or maybe something about her intelligence and the way she was always there. She understood him, and she fought for him too. However, there was one thing he was sure of–she was Marc’s wife, not just a friend like he made it out to be.

But deep down inside him, he knew that he had fallen for her. He technically did confirm it back in one of those tents in Cairo, didn’t he? When Marc interrogated him about being in love with his wife? He hadn’t verbally answered the question, but his actions were enough for Marc to know that he had. The kiss he shared with Layla was also enough for him to know that he had.

Steven’s lack of response broke your heart, to say the least. The lack of a verbal response already served as the answer you hoped you wouldn’t have to receive from him.

The silence between you two didn’t last as long as you thought it would, having a sigh leave his lips as he brought his arm over his eyes.

“I-I don’t know.”

His words brought your attention to him once more, seeing his body tense up as he gulped. You should have played it off and moved on by this point, right? But you couldn’t. Not when his body language told you more than enough. You sensed the truth in his statement; you’d give him that. But at the same time, you also felt the conflict that was arising within him, and you knew that was because of you.

It definitely did not help your thoughts when he sniffled. Perhaps you were missing the bigger picture? Fuck. Maybe you overreacted? Had you offended him?

“Shit. Wait, lovie–I’m sorry. We can drop it, yeah?” You offered, sitting up abruptly and moving closer to him so you could lift his arm from his face, your heart breaking at the sight of tears rimming at the corners of his eyes. “I just… You were gone for so long and since you came back, you’d always just bring her up and I was just curious.”

Steven sat up as well, and your hand moved to cup his cheek, causing him to lean in against your touch. “That’s all. But I believe you, okay, lovie? I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m sorry..”

The thing is, you and Steven barely got into misunderstandings, and on the rare occasion that you did, whoever was in the wrong would apologize with a kiss. So that’s exactly what you intended to do. You moved closer and leaned in to press your lips to his, only for him to pull his head back slightly in hesitation–another event you weren’t prepared for.

Swallowing back a sob, his eyes bore into your saddened ones. Guilt overcame his features almost immediately at the sight. You at least deserved the truth, right?

“I… She isn’t… She isn’t just Marc’s friend.” He whispered, bringing his hand to cup your own when he felt your touch falter slightly.

You felt as if you already knew where this conversation was headed, based solely on how he was basically tiptoeing around you, but you desperately wished you were wrong. “I… Is there something else you’d like me to know, Steven?”

“Layla… She’s Marc’s wife, darling.”

Nothing could have prepared you for that. You would have at least thought that she was Marc’s girlfriend or something along those lines, but you never would have thought that the alter of the man you were dating was married.

“She’s…” your voice trailed off as your hand slowly dropped from his cheek, causing him to move quickly to take your hands back in his. “He… You knew about this? When did she tell you? Or when did Marc tell you?”

“She told me the day that we met… Marc wanted to get a divorce because Khonshu wanted to have her as his next avatar, but Marc never signed the papers.” He quickly explained, tilting his head slightly so he could meet your eyes when you shifted your attention to your hands in his. “She tried giving me the papers that day but I couldn’t sign them–”

That sentence alone made your eyes shoot up, locking with his. “You couldn’t sign them?” you breathed, eyebrows furrowed as you tried to grasp the information that was being handed to you. Shaking your head as your heart pounded against your chest, you continued, “You… You knew that she was Marc’s wife from the first day, yet you lied to me?”

He looked down at your hands, which he still held in his, as a response, his thumb moving in circles in an attempt to soothe you, as if it would do much.

You honestly did not have the energy to be mad at him. Technically speaking, he hadn’t done anything wrong either. Your relationship did not have a title, and while you were definitely past the ‘I love you’ stage, he wasn’t your boyfriend. Based on your knowledge, you don’t have high hopes that he will ever be either.

“You should have just told me. Hell, even just… not saying anything as a response would have sufficed as an answer.” Was all you could bring yourself to say after a couple moments of not saying anything to one another. Your words were leaving your mouth slowly as if articulating every single word you were about to say. “Lying… Lying isn’t better than silence, Steven. I-I would have understood… I mean, it was coming, wasn’t it?”

His head shot up at that, and his gaze met with yours once more. “Wha-”

It was your turn to cut him off. “Do you love her, Steven?” You asked once more, a small smile gracing your lips. If he hadn’t known you as well as he did, he would’ve been convinced that you were okay, but he knew better than that.

You were convinced that you would be met with another round of silence, but you were mistaken.

“I-I think I do…?” He mumbled softly, gritting his teeth as he shook his head. You weren’t quite sure what his head shake was in response to, but you couldn’t exactly bring yourself to even process the action. “I don’t know, I can’t–You’re my first love, darling, I swear–”

His words turned into incoherent mumbles as he desperately tried to find the words to explain himself. To explain his feelings in a way that would hurt you in the least brutal way possible, but no matter how he chooses to explain it, his words are bound to hurt.

“I may be your first, but that’s all I’ll ever be, yeah?” Your voice was almost as soft as a whisper as you gave his hands a gentle squeeze. “And it doesn’t matter though, does it, Steven? It doesn’t matter if I'm your first, I-I’ll never be your last. I’ll never be your only.” Maybe you were rambling at this point, but everything was crashing down around you. The man you had been waiting on, the relationship you were clinging on to, and everything you have come to love was slipping through your fingers so quickly. To make things worse, your acceptance of it all merely serves as the catalyst to the inevitable end.

“I’m never going to make you choose, lovie… You know that, right?” A tear found its way down your cheek as you brought his hand to your lips to give it a gentle, lingering kiss. “It’s okay, Steven.”

He felt unworthy of you, to say the least. You deserved so much more than a man who leaves without a trace and whose loyalty did not fully reside with you. The memory of the kiss he shared with Layla plagues his mind, and the confession burns in his throat as he wonders if it's even worth it to tell you–to break your heart more than he already has.

“I’ve always considered myself lucky to have you, you know? It just… our whole relationship felt so good. Too good, actually.” You smiled sadly, tears brimming the corners of your eyes as you forced yourself to look at the man you love. The one you allowed yourself to fall for so recklessly with the hope that maybe, just maybe, he would love you back, even if just half as much as you did him. “She made–no, she makes you happy, doesn’t she? She kept you safe and fought for you. She saved you, and I just…”

Steven’s eyes shut tightly at your words, shaking his head rapidly as he desperately tried to think of the words to say to you. “It wasn’t on you, darling… Please don’t blame yourself for this.”

His response was typical, but you couldn’t blame him. “I don’t blame anyone for this, Steven, okay?” Your tone was free from any malice or bitterness, but the sadness that laced your words was still quite evident. “I could never hate anyone who makes you feel safe and happy, you know that. The only thing I ever wanted was for you to be happy, Steven, and if she makes you happier than I ever could, then….”

“No.” The fact that you couldn’t even bring yourself to finish that sentence broke him. His head continued to shake as if to convince himself that this isn’t happening to him, that you weren’t actually considering leaving him. He is well aware that you deserve better, but could anyone blame him for being selfish? After everything he’s been through? And after everyone he’s lost? “Why does it sound like you’re saying goodbye?”

Your hand reaches up to cup his cheek once more, your thumb gently grazing his skin as your eyes drink up the sight of him. Memorizing him. Every single bump and wrinkle. Every single self-acclaimed imperfection, in Steven's opinion. Every single thing that made him Steven and made you love him even more. “I love you, Steven Grant. I love every single bit of you, and I hope you never forget that.”

Your insecurities were getting the best of you. How could they not? The woman he had fallen for was here in the room with you that fateful day and had followed him somehow. Helped him. Protected him. She had everything you didn’t–bravery, strength, the brain, the beauty. And to top it all off? She had him, whether she was aware of that fact or not, she had won Steven’s heart, probably the same way she had won Marc’s. How could you ever compete with that?

You laid a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose, and his eyes fluttered shut at the sensation. He was too engrossed in his thoughts to realize that you stood up, collecting the things that you had brought over for the day. He’s brought back to his senses when he hears you sniffle, and he genuinely wishes he could just take you back in his arms and make you forget that he hurt you. But he doesn’t deserve that, does he?

Instead, he chooses to repeat his question as he gets off the bed and walks over to you. “Why do you sound like you’re saying goodbye?” He asks once more, dejection and defeat clouding his senses. His hands move to wrap around your waist, pulling you close to him in a tight hug, not wanting to let you go. He knows he doesn’t deserve you, but at the same time, he still doesn’t want to lose you.

You hadn’t made him choose between you and Layla because you made that choice for him, and you were letting him go. But he didn’t want that. He didn’t want to lose you, and at the same time, he didn’t want to lose Layla.

Your arms wrapped around him, holding him like a lifeline-your lifeline. A slow nod from you caused his grip on your figure to tighten as he felt your movement, a new wave of tears accompanying the gesture. “Could you do something for me, Steven?”

There were so many questions taking over your thoughts at the moment:

Why couldn’t you be good enough? How were you going to move on? Why were you stupid enough to think that this would last forever? When did he fall out of love with you?

Instead, you chose something else. A question that hurt him more than it hurt you. “Tell me more about her. Just so I know that I’m leaving you with someone who could love you as much as I could.”

His grip tightened even more at your request. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t bring himself to tell you more about her, even if he had talked about her too many times in the past couple of days. He couldn’t do it because he knew that this was your way of seeing how you could have been better for him, where you lacked in your relationship. But the thing is, you never lacked in any aspect–you were perfect, and he doesn’t deserve you.

A shake of his head was the only response he could give you, causing you to sigh as you gently pulled away from his grasp. It didn’t work though, since his arms were still firmly planted around your waist, but you were pulled apart enough for you to see his face.

Cupping his cheek once more, you leaned your forehead against his. “Kiss me? Just… Just one last time, Steven. Please.”

And he did. He pressed his lips against yours in a kiss that would be engraved in your memory forever. A kiss that captured feelings of love, regret, selfishness, and sorrow. A kiss that would be the last of the memories you would share with him in thirteen months you had known each other. A kiss that would ultimately be your last with the man you have grown to love despite the hardships and heartbreak that came with being with him. You never would’ve thought that you and Steven would have your last kiss like this.

“How lucky am I to have someone that makes saying goodbye so hard?” You forced out a laugh, tears streaming down your cheeks as you rested your forehead against his once more. A sad smile graced your lips as your thumb gently wipes away the tears that have made it down his own cheeks. “I love you, and I'm just really grateful that I had you. Even if just for that couple of months that I did.”

Steven’s eyes drank you up the same way you had earlier, memorizing your features and everything about you. He just hates how the last memory he would have of you would be like this–with your heart broken because of him.

“Is it selfish if I ask you to stay?” He asked, his voice softer than it usually was when he was with you. And for fucks sake, you almost do, but you can’t.

“Oh, God, I wish I could.”

The line jogs his memory, causing his eyes to clench shut. His tears were freely streaming down his face at this point, and he knew he looked like a mess, but he didn’t care.

“You were good to me, Steven Grant. Thank you.” You couldn’t find the words to say as you pressed your lips against his nose once more. “Thank you, lovie. For letting me love you the way I did.”

“Please don’t say goodbye.” A broken sob wrecks his lips as tries to convince you to stay, but he knew there was nothing he could do to make that happen. “I-I can’t lose you. Please. You promised.” It was selfish for him to pull this card on you, but believe it or not, he does love you. “You promised…”

Nonetheless, you nod slowly. If he doesn’t want to hear the goodbye, he doesn’t have to. But it doesn’t mean that this wasn’t the last time you would see him. He knows this.

“I’ll see you later then, yeah? When we meet again?”

He was shaking uncontrollably now, but he had to let you go the same way you were letting him go. Had roles been reversed, he would’ve done the same for you.

All he could muster was a nod as he forced himself to release you from his hold. He honestly hated how things went south so quickly, but he was to blame for that, wasn’t he?

He has to let you go.

“Laters, gators.”

A gentle kiss on the back of his hand, and a squeeze of reassurance were the last things he remembered before the door of his apartment shut behind you.

Steven was left in the same way you were when he had disappeared that night.

In silence.

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