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#hope that was angsty enough for you <3
urfriendlywriter · 6 months
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How to write angst ?
@urfriendlywriter | req by @everynowandthenihaveacrisis @aidyaiden :)
know your character. from their deepest fears to what they cherish the most. know your deepest fear, ask yourself how you will react and feel at that moment. "oh shit, if this happened to me I'll lose my mind" what's that type of scenario for you? write it. :)
decide on the type of angst you are going for!
major, minor, physical, emotional, paranormal, spiritual, verbal, abusive, quarrel, misunderstanding, etc.
and then, decide on--what reaction you can take out of your character by doing what to them.
are they gonna be, held at a gunpoint to give something up? or have their soul wrecked by whom they thought were close to them? or is it going be horror, or etctec, decide on it.
moving on to actually writing it-
Tip 1 - Use sensory details.
her eyes brimmed with tears
his chest heaved
pain clawed at his heart, as his face twisted with hurt
his scream pierced my heart
her lips quivered
she dug her nails into her palms (to distract herself, to stop it from shaking, etc)
show what is happening to ur MC, instead of telling it.
Tip 2 - how to actually write it.
If they're panicking, make them notice too many things at once, show every detail that they're seeing, feeling, from touch, to that burning sensation on their eyes, the blood on the ground, that dryness of their throat, the buzzing in their head and their parted lips unable to trust their own sight, and--and, boom! have them register that they're really really in trouble. and that they've to act fast.
use short, very minimal type of writing for this. make it long, but not long enough that it feels like it's being dragged.
the readers should hold themselves back from skimming the page out of curiousity, they should be in their toes to find out what happens next.
what does your MC do in times of panic? do they chant calm down to themselves, do they get angry, or start crying.. or?? what makes your character genuinely feel an emotion so hard that they'll burst?
there's always something, someone that'll always give them love and easily can be that something or someone to take it away. yk.
Tip 3 - crying.
what is close to your character that u can deprive them of? will it make them cry? beg for it?
what will make ur character cry so hard, that their scream fills everyone's ear, stays in their minds like ghosts and always haunts them?
make a character who never cries, burst out with tears.
while writing crying, focus on the 5 senses, one after the other.
focus it on their breath, make them run out of breath, gasp for air, feel like they're being choked, cry so scrutinizingly. it shud punch the reader's gut.
have them replay what had just happened over and over again in their head
best books and writing styles (for angst) to analyse and learn from (in my opinion);
3rd book in the AGGTM series (yk it hit hard like a truck. it got me depressed in bed the entire time lmao)
Five Survive by Holly Jackson. The moments of red outside of the truck, and moments leading to it.
there's this book called " Warm by @untalentedwriter127 " in wattpad. the author served angst for breakfast, lunch anddd dinner.
and if there's more angsty ones, drop em in the comments! :)
Hope this helps, tag me when yall write a masterpiece! ;)
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aeyumicore · 27 days
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☾ .⭒˚ what's mine ♡ zayne x afab reader
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⋆.˚ ☾ pairing: zayne x afab!reader (very fem!reader)
☾ .⭒˚ genre: smut, pwp, not canon events (completely fictional)
⋆.˚ ☾ word count: 10.7k
☾ .⭒˚ content warning: mdni, first time sex with zayne (not virginity loss), jealous!zayne, dom!zayne, zayne slightly loses control of evol, furniture breaks, lot’s of teasing, fictional characters, size kink, vaginal sex, oral sex f!receiving, tongue fucking, fingering, unprotected sex, creampies, slightly drunk sex (not really), tummy bulge, posessive/claiming behavior, let me know if i missed anything!
⋆.˚ ☾ a/n: helloooo writing for my fav zayne again <3 would you guys believe this is actually the first lads fic i ever started but i put it on hold because it was way too elaborate and i didn’t want to make a whole like multi chapter fic? i actually cut out a lotttt of it, it probably would’ve been more like 30k words if i kept the same writing style/detail i had originally, and i just could not do that to myself
also the matthew/intern mentioned in the fic is completely made up and fictional, he is not a reference to any characters! i couldn’t bring myself to use greyson for the purposes of the plot bc i think he and zayne are so cute LOL god i love the jealous angsty feelings trope 
pls enjoy hehe i luv u guys <3 also come interact with me on twit @/aeyumicore :’)
⋆.˚ ☾ 18+ only ☾ .⭒˚ minors dni ⋆.˚ ☾ 18+ only ☾ .⭒˚ minors dni ⋆.˚ ☾ 18+ only ☾ .⭒˚
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“will you go to dinner with me?”
you whip your head around to see where the unfamiliar voice came from, coming face to face with one of the surgical interns of the akso hospital. you’d run into him several times before when visiting zayne at work, but never quite got his name.
“me?” 
the intern chuckles at your dumbfoundedness, which he thinks is adorable, “yes, you’re y/n right? my name is matthew. i'm one of the surgical interns here. so, will you let me take you to dinner tomorrow?”
zayne chokes on his rice from the seat beside you, patting his chest a few times to clear his throat. you’d decided to have lunch with zayne after your check-up today; well more like you’d forced him to the cafeteria with you against his will. you’d desperately wanted to try the infamous mint chocolate chip jello the hospital cafeteria served, even though you knew it’d be disgusting. and so you both sat at a table in the cafeteria, you with your jello and zayne with a homemade bento box you’d made for him, along with some of his favorite pastries from the bakery down the street.
at his coughs, the intern’s eyes snapped to zayne’s and it was like he’d just then realized zayne was there, the surprise and anxiety written all over his expression. zayne was always someone who commanded respect and fear from his colleagues and subordinates, so much so that matthew had turned pale as a ghost. 
“oh! dr. zayne, i’m so sorry i didn’t realize–” but zayne cuts him off with a simple wave of his hand. 
“it’s fine. continue your conversation.” you’re a bit taken back by zayne’s nonchalance. sure, you were just childhood friends but it would be nice if zayne had any reaction at all to being asked out right in front of him. you yourself couldn’t deny the attraction you felt towards zayne but it was seeming more and more that it was completely one sided.
“i, um…” you’re at a loss for words, not knowing how to let the handsome intern down. matthew was honestly very attractive, and seemed kind enough, but you had hoped to spend your friday night with zayne, though you hadn’t had the chance to ask him yet. he’d been swamped with surgeries and patients the last few days and you hardly got to see him at all. and you missed him thoroughly.
“i actually had plans with zay– i mean dr. zayne,” you glance at zayne, hoping he’ll get the message, but the expression on his face is dark and unreadable. 
“no we don’t. you should go,” zayne’s tone is cold and his eyes refuse to meet yours. despite yourself, your heart clenches in disappointment. you know zayne could be obtuse but he was also extremely intelligent and perceptive. he undoubtedly knew you wanted to spend your night with him. but it was becoming more and more apparent he did not want to spend his with you.
“but i–”
“i have plans anyways.” your eyes can’t help but sting as he avoids looking at you. so you try to steel yourself; you were a big girl and a little bit of unrequited affection would not destroy you. keeping your voice steady and blinking back unshed tears of frustration, you look up at matthew, his eyes lighting up at you expectantly, and you try to give him your best smile.
“i…i would love to go to dinner with you!”
you don’t notice the deep scowl on zayne’s face as a dark icy storm brews in his green eyes. 
you stumbled out of the taxi, your way-too-high heels catching on the foot step almost causing you to trip headfirst into the pavement. you sigh as you catch yourself on the cab door and glance at your hunter watch and see that it’s already 1am. 
“get home safe miss, and no more drinks, you hear me?” your cab driver reprimands you teasingly.
“yes sir,” you mock salute him as you wobble onto your feet, thoroughly drunk, “thank you so much! please drive safe. good night sir!”
“good night miss!” 
you turn towards your apartment building, sighing in exhausted defeat. what an absolute disaster of a night.
the date was unexpectedly wonderful. matthew was handsome, kind, funny, and a complete gentleman. he brought you to a very fancy and expensive restaurant downtown, so you wore one of your most elegant dresses, not that you had many. it was a simple satin black mid-length evening dress, with a slit that exposed just up to your mid thigh and an open back that accentuates your figure. you’d normally never wear something so sensual on a first date, but you couldn’t deny that the way zayne had reacted, or not reacted, stung your heart. so maybe you did go a little extra tonight because you were hurt. so what?
after dinner, matthew and you took a leisurely stroll at linkon park, with enough time to catch the sunset. as you watched the sun melt into the sea of golden yellows and dusky pinks, matthew kissed you. it was passionate, slow, and soft. the perfect kiss.
except when you moaned out zayne’s name. 
and so the night ended as quickly as it began. matthew was as understanding as he possibly could have been, but you could tell it killed anything that could have happened between the two of you. matthew was a surgical intern, so with what little free time he had, he said he couldn’t chance it on a girl who was clearly already in love with someone else, especially if that someone was his boss and mentor. he’d offered to give you a ride back home but you refused, saying you’d grab a cab instead.  
so you found yourself at a bar, downing shots of soju to numb the mortification of your blunder but also the feeling of utter patheticness. hours went by as you wallowed in your emotions. you’d had feelings for zayne for as long as you could even remember. and still, you couldn’t tell him or move on from him. 
but maybe you would have the guts to tell him if it didn’t feel like he literally could not give two cents about you, beyond as a patient and as his annoying childhood friend. it was literally like pulling teeth to get him to spend any time at all with you lately. 
so here you were, stumbling into your apartment building at 1:37 am: drunk, exhausted, and empty. the night breeze raised goosebumps on your exposed thighs as your heels clicked on the pavement in the dark. 
you headed toward your apartment, through the main entrance and up the lobby elevator, the alcohol still making your brain swim. luckily you no longer saw double, and your eyelids no longer felt like a ton of bricks.  
the elevator door dinged open and you trudged toward your unit, your toes screaming in protest in the confine of your heels. you forced your vision to cooperate with you as you tried to punch in your door code. the error buzz sounded out, again and again, and you groaned in frustration.
in the blurry edges of your vision, a large and slightly scarred hand reached over yours. yelping, you whip yourself around and reach to grab the gun you always had strapped to your thigh. but from the icy cold touch against your fingers and the scars littering the pink skin, you realize exactly who it was.
“zayne?” you did your best not to slur, trapped between him and your front door. you don’t miss how he swears under his breath as his eyes trail down your body, lingering at all your exposed skin, before snapping back up to your face. you can’t even imagine how wrecked you must look right now, mentally kicking yourself for not touching up after the bar. your gloss was undoubtedly smeared from the kiss and the copious alcohol, your hair a bird’s nest from the night breeze, and your mascara smeared from the stray tears of your drunken emotions.
you didn’t do a very good job at steeling your voice because zayne saw right through you, his eyes narrowing as they absolutely drank you in, “you’re drunk?” his voice holds a dangerous edge, as if mad that you’d have the audacity to be drunk. he deftly types your access code in, and gently ushers you into your apartment. you stumble in your heels against his body, and zayne wraps his arm around your waist to catch you before you fall. you flush at the way his hands palm the exposed skin of your lower back. 
“m’not drunk,” you protest, swatting his hand away, not wanting your body to give any of your feelings towards him away, but zayne only grips you tighter, fingers flitting between the soft satin material of your dress and the goosebump ridden skin of your back. his arm on your waist feels so right, threatening to make you melt right into his embrace. but you fight the urge, trying to hold onto your annoyance.
you can’t see his eyes but you know they’re rolling in their sockets at your obvious drunkeness. he gently guides you through the threshold of your home and then kneels down before you. the sight of him on the floor in front of your feet makes you reel, hoping the furious blush is masked by the flush of alcohol in your blood.
“w-what are you doing?” you try to step back, but your knees wobble and zayne grips your thigh in place. you shiver at his cold touch on your sensitive skin, a little too high for you to keep any semblance of calm.
“do you want to stay in these deathtraps?” he murmurs as he starts to slip the strappy heels off of your aching feet. his fingers around your ankle tingle as he softly massages the red skin of where the straps dug in.
“zayne? why are you here? did something happen?” your voice wavers still, but zayne’s cold touch is starting to sober you up and clear your vision as your mind tries its best to focus on him. zayne doesn’t respond as he lifts your other foot and slips the other heel off. his fingers linger on your bare legs before he slips your house slippers on your feet, standing back up to tower over you. 
“it’s almost 2 in the morning, and you’re just now coming home,” his voice is hard and stern, it’s clear he has things he wants to say but you’re in no mood for a lecture on sexual safety, stds, and stranger danger. 
“i was busy,” you snap, your emotions running extra high from everything that had happened today, especially zayne’s nonchalance. but he’s incredibly patient with you, as he always is, taking you by the waist nagain and leading you to your living room couch. you’re too tired to resist, and you desperately need to get off your aching feet.
“how was your date?” zayne sits you on your couch and then heads to the kitchen, coming back with a glass of water. his question reminds you of how royally you screwed up today and your mood sours even more. 
“fine,” you mutter, trying to keep from snapping at him again. zayne sits beside you and brings the glass of water to your lips, tilting it for you with his fingers on your jaw. you take deep gulps, the cold water soothing your entire sore body. sinking further into the couch, your mind wanders back to your disastrous screw up. you’d called matthew zayne. it literally couldn’t get more mortifying than that.
zayne stares at you and you know he doesn’t believe you, so you murmur again, “it was fine.” but as his intense eyes bore holes into you, your voice cracks under all the feelings you’d stuffed deep down today. 
he was here now and it confused you to no end. you’d wanted nothing more than to spend your day with him, but he’d pushed you away. were you really that blind that you’d developed feelings for a man who did not feel even slightly the same way? 
your eyes well up with tears at the thought and you try to subtly brush them away by pretending to scratch your cheek, but as always zayne sees right through you. 
“did he do something to you? did he get you drunk?” zayne’s voice is calm but hard and threatening.enough to scare you if it weren't for the way he softly gripped your chin, forcing your eyes back to his, using his free thumb to catch the tears before they can slip down your cheek
but through it all, you register the implication of his words. “wh-what? no!” you exclaim, “matthew was a complete gentleman.”
his eyes track yours, unwilling to let go of your gaze, “then why are you crying?” 
you blink back your tears before more can fall onto his thumb. your voice wavers as you stare into the hazel green ocean of his eyes, and you answer his question with a question of your own, “why are you here zayne?” 
“i wanted to make sure you got home safe.” your chest constricts with unrelenting emotions, but your drunken haze makes you even more steadfast in your stubborn resolve. 
“well i’m home, safe,” you avert your eyes, knowing if zayne keeps staring at you with that intensity you’ll start to unravel and confess everything.
“why did you take a cab home?”
your eyes snap to his, “how did you know i took a cab?” and this time zayne’s eyes refuse to meet yours, “zayne? how long have you been waiting for me?”
zayne doesn’t respond, instead brushing the tangles out of your hair. you try to get his attention by tugging at his tie, the alcohol making you feel much bolder than you normally ever would. 
you can see his adam's apple bob as he lets himself be drawn in, only slightly, towards you. at your pout, he sighs in defeat, prying your hands away so he can loosen the tightened hold around his neck, “i’ve been waiting for you…forever.” 
before you can respond, he clears his throat and continues, “i got here at 9 and waited in my car when i knocked and you didn't answer.”
at your bewildered expression, he sighs and elaborates, “i just wanted to see you get back home safely. but when i saw you get out of that cab i needed to come check on you.”
your brows furrowed as your sobering self tried to do the math in your head. zayne can practically see the steam coming out of your ears and smiles lopsidedly, chuckling under his breath at how adorable you were being.
“you waited for 7 hours?!” you exclaimed, eyes wide. 
his grin deepens and you can see his eyes sparkling with laughter , “you are drunk. why are you drunk?”
you purse your lips shut, unwilling to speak. with all the overwhelming emotions swarming your mind, you knew if you started talking now you would surely never stop.
at your silence, zayne prods gently, “talk to me, y/n.” his voice is deep and commanding in a way that almost always gets you to listen to him. 
you zip your lips shut and turn away, doing your damn best to not give in. but zayne’s touch, still on your cheeks, forces you back towards his eyes.
“be a good girl,” he demands softly, his eyes searching yours for answers. 
blowing out your cheeks like a child, you’re unwilling to give up the attitude, “i’m drunk because i was drinking.”
“did matthew take advantage of you?” zayne’s jaw is locked and the intensity in his eyes is blinding, damn near dangerous. 
“no! zayne, no. i went to a bar to drink alone, after our date,” you try to hide the embarrassment from seeping into your voice.
“why? did he do something to you?” his voice is still threatening, and you sigh at the unrelenting questions. you knew zayne well enough to know he wasn’t going to let up, so it would just be easier on you if you told him everything that happened.
“matthew was amazing,” you don’t notice the way zayne’s eyes darken at your praises for the intern, “the date was fantastic. and after, we saw the sunset.” his expression is still unreadable and you start to fidget under his intense gaze, not knowing in the slightest what he was thinking. 
“and then he kissed me. we kissed. and that was it. i went to the bar and he went home. end of story.” 
zayne’s fists ball so tightly his knuckles turn white, but he keeps his gaze steady. he doesn’t speak, and you’re scared of the tense silence that falls between you two.
“he couldn’t at least accompany you? make sure you were safe?” you can tell zayne is angry by the way his feet taps uncharacteristically erratically against the floor, “driven you home?”
his questions make it impossible for you to forget about your horrifying mistake today and you just feel so incredibly bad for matthew. the regret and embarrassment gnaw at your mind like parasites. and so against your better, albeit slightly still drunken, judgment, you finally blow.
“he left because i was thinking of you, okay? matthew was a gentleman, he was funny, kind, and charming. and yet i was thinking of you the whole time. and so he left and i went to a bar and got drunk all on my own, okay?”
“you were thinking of me?” zayne’s voice is an annoying mix of bewilderment, intrigue, and what sounds like mockery, which just infuriates you.
“i am always thinking of you zayne! i thought about you at dinner, i thought about you when we watched the sunset, and i thought about you when he kissed me,” you burst, your drunken lack of inhibitions leaving nothing unsaid. 
zayne’s face is unreadable again, but there’s a heat in his eyes that makes you tremble in your seat, “you were thinking of me when he kissed you?”
unable to bear his unrelenting repetitive questions anymore, you explode, “yes zayne! and when he kissed me i called out for you!” the confession tumbles out of your mouth before you can even think twice about it. it takes you a second to realize what you’d just blurted out and you bury your face in your hands, wanting nothing more than to scream at the top of your lungs. unfortunately it was 2am and you had neighbors that most definitely would not appreciate that. 
you feel his strong hands grab your wrists gently, prying your hands away from your face, wanting to see you, “you called for me?” his tone is as amused as it is intrigued and it frustrates you to no end, the shame weighing heavily on your mind. 
“don’t tease me right now zayne,“ you warn weakly, “i am always thinking about you. but you…” your voice trails off to a shallow whisper, “you don’t seem to think about me.”
zayne is silent but his eyes are as intense as you’ve ever seen them, staring into your soul. the silence is thick in the air as you refuse to be the one to break it.
finally, he speaks, voice clouded with indiscernible emotions, “is that what you really think? that i don’t think about you?”
“do you really think i waited for 5 hours, in my car, for you to come back because i don’t think about you?” your breath catches in your throat at the pure and raw growl in his voice. 
before you can respond, he continues, “i think about you every second of every day. i thought about you all day, thought about you on your date with matthew.”
zayne shifts so that he can cup your face with both his hands, drawing his face closer but not close enough, “i thought about him getting to hear your voice, getting to touch you…to kiss you. it drove me insane.” 
your feelings churn in your stomach and into your chest, making it hard to breathe. the way zayne is looking at you, his hands holding your face so possessively, threatens to stop your heart altogether. you’re drawn to him all over again, only this time it feels like he might be drawn to you too.
“w-why?”
zayne doesn’t speak, and you watch as his eyes flutter to your parted lips as you pant out your breaths, eyes fighting to stay open amidst all the tension enveloping the two of you. 
“why did you push me to go with him then?”
his eyes force themselves onto yours, as if unwilling to leave your lips, “i made a mistake.” 
his revelations quickly sober you up, and you’re left feeling vulnerable but bold. you softly grab a fist full of his tie, pulling him closer. you can faintly hear him groan under his breath, but he lets himself be guided towards you. your lips are so close to each other that you’re inhaling each other in, and you beg gently, “kiss me, zayne.” 
zayne wastes no time at all, threading his fingers from your cheek into your hair, pulling your face the remainder of the distance to his own. 
your first kiss with zayne is nothing like you’d daydreamed it would be. you’d imagined the patient and reserved surgeon to be soft, gentle, taking his time with you. you’d expected it to be passionate but reserved, like the handsome raven haired man himself. 
and while the passion was undeniably there, what you didn’t expect was the bruising claiming heat that came with it. zayne’s soft lips marked you as his own, a lifetime’s worth of emotions evident in the way he molded himself against you. with every twitch of his lips, zayne laid claim to what was his. he kissed you like you might disappear at any moment, as if this was all a dream.
and when his tongue swiped across the parting of your lips, asking for permission to enter, you gladly relented control and authority. after all, you were his. you think you had been for some time.  
you hadn’t expected your first kiss with zayne to be like this, and yet it was everything you wanted and more.
when you shift yourself to climb on top of him and straddle him on your couch, zayne reluctantly pulls away, hands still gripping the back of your head, “y/n, we should stop.” but he can’t stop his hands from leaving your soft hair and resting on your hips, almost like a reflex. his words say one thing but his hands just can't seem to pry themselves off of you.
you’re taken aback by his words, unable to stop the insecurity and hurt that paints your face. zayne notices instantly, one of his hands leaving your hips to stroke your cheek, hooking some of your hair behind your ear. you lean into his hand, the whiplash starting to exhaust you as much as it kept you on your toes. 
“i want to,” he whispers hoarsely as you squirm on top of him, answering your unsaid thoughts, “i can’t even convey how much i’ve fucking wanted to. but you’re drunk. and the first time i finally take you…i want you to feel every second of it.” 
your eyes flutter at his words, stomach clenching in anticipation. having fully sobered up a while ago, before he even kissed you, you can’t help but beg a little, “i’m not drunk anymore. and even if i was… i want you. i’ve wanted you…forever.” 
zayne swears, his eyes going full doctor mode, and you can tell he’s inspecting every inch of you to try and discern if you’re truly sober or not. you fidget nervously under his intense stare, to which his hands grip your waist painfully tight to keep you in place.
“stop,” he grits out forcefully, as if in pain. you do your best to still in his lap, and that’s when you feel the unmistakable bulge of his erection underneath your parted dress that had ridden up to bunch at your hips, right against the pantyhose against your cunt.
“are you sure this is what you want?” he groans as your body presses deeper into his lap, “because once…we start i won’t be able to stop.” 
his words send a shiver down your spine, the heated warning doing nothing but arousing you to your core. through your hooded eyes, you nod eagerly at him, “m’sure zayne. won’t want to stop.” 
he smirks at you, a heart stopping smile that melts your brain and cunt simultaneously into a leaking mess, “you asked for it love.” 
before you can even have the chance to physically combust at the affectionate pet name, zayne whisks you into the air, scooping you under your exposed knees effortlessly. you yelp, clutching onto his neck as he carries you like a bride into your bedroom, navigating your apartment like he owned it. he bent down to capture your lips with his again, like he couldn’t physically wait to get you to your bed before claiming you again. 
you feel the cold press of your sheets against your spine as zayne sets you down gently, and settles in between your thighs on top of you. his eyes absolutely devour you whole, raking up and down your exposed satin clad skin, “you look beautiful. i’ve been wanting to tell you all night.” his praise is throaty with desire and it makes you squeeze your thighs together against his body in anticipation. your face heats at his words, and you run your palms up and down his abdomen, the material of his dress shirt feeling like silk against your burning skin. 
zayne grins and chuckles, mostly to himself, but the sound catches your attention and you find yourself pouting in self-consciousness, “what’s funny?”
zayne’s long fingers trace the outlines of your body under the satin dress, eliciting soft moans from you that please him to his core, “you just look so beautiful.” his fingers reach the bottom of your dress and begin to stroke the fabric of your pantyhose, inching up under your dress, so torturously slowly, “you wore this for him, yet i’m the one that’s going to tear it off you.”
your body trembles at his words, the pool between your legs growing wetter. you can feel yourself growing impatient, only wanting his body to press onto yours, to suffocate your.
“zayne please, don’t make me wait any more,” you murmur as you sit up on your elbows, pressing your forehead against his. you heartbeat is quick and your rapid breaths fan across his face. 
his eyes darken at your pleas, the hazel hues appearing almost a light brown, “fucking hell y/n, you’re going to drive me insane.” he sits up on his knees, loosening his tie before undoing it completely and discarding it on the floor next to your bed. you bite your lip as you watch him undo the top three buttons of his shirt, his toned chest on display under it. 
leaning back down, he presses a bruising kiss against your swollen lips. his hands wander to the thin straps of your dress, gently tugging until they slip off your shoulders, letting him tug your dress down until your breasts are exposed. his tongue against yours is unrelenting, marking every inch of your mouth as his.
detaching himself from you, he buries his face into your neck, his cold lips incredibly soothing against your lust burned skin. you cry out when you feel his teeth softly sink into the skin of your pulsepoint, as he suckles on you like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. 
“zayne,” you gasp out, his tongue and teeth working in tandem to have your mind filled with nothing but his mouth on you, “please.”
he trails down your neck and collar, inhaling you into his lungs at every opportunity. you feel his smile against your skin as he reaches your breasts, your nipples pebbled from the lust. he voice is muffled against you, “please what, my love?”
“i…” you’re too mortified to say the things you want him to do, so the silence overtakes you. unhappy with your hesitation, zayne bites into the supple flesh above your pert nipple, eliciting a string of moans and squeals from you. he’s instantly using his tongue to soothe the pain away, quickly replacing it with waves of raw pleasure. 
zayne lifts his head, staring at you expectantly, “i can’t continue if you don’t tell me what you want.”
his unrelenting teasing drives you to the edge of madness, your arousal evident by the way it leaks through your panties and your pantyhose. but you’re stubborn, still refusing to speak. 
“good girls listen to their doctors don’t they?” he places fleeting kisses onto your goosebump riddled areolas, careful to purposefully neglect your increasingly sensitive nipples.
“should doctors really be this intimate with their patients?” you retort like a brat, wanting to dish back all of his incessant teasing.  
he smiles at you, thoroughly amused at your insolence, “i suppose not, but am i really just your doctor?” with that he captures your waiting nipples into his mouth. you cry out at the incredible feeling of his cold lips on your breasts but his warm tongue on your nipple, your lower body thrusting up uncontrollably into his crotch. 
he groans into your chest as you brush against his throbbing erection, restricted by the confines of his pants. against the heat of your womanhood, zayne hardens impossibly further, feeling like he might actually explode against the constraint. the sounds of your pleasure and your cries for him make it difficult for him to concentrate.
switching to your other nipple, zayne uses one hand to undo his belt, letting it fall to the ground with his tie. he undoes the button and zipper his pants, yanking them down with such feral urgency. when his cock was finally free, he broke away from your chest, hissing in relief. you look down and you’re met with the realization of why he was in so much pain. 
zayne was large. in a way that terrified you to your very core. you could imagine that the restraint of his briefs alone would be uncomfortable, painful even, when holding something like that back. 
zayne catches your stare and he grips your chin between his fingers, guiding you to his eyes instead, “it’ll fit baby, don’t worry.”
you fight to keep your lip from quivering, trying not to get lost in his green eyes, “will it?”
“i’ll make it fit, but first let me prepare you love,” he says matter-of-factly, pressing a kiss to the bridge of your nose. the certainty in his voice turns you unbelievably on and you find yourself needing to please him. your hand seeks out his erection, grasping it firmly into your fingers.
he groans at the slightest touch, knees buckling into the bed beneath you. you start with languid and deliberate strokes, feeling every vein pulse under your fingers. your thumb finds his large engorged head, already leaking with pre cum, feeling every smooth surface of his cock under your touch. while zayne writhes on top of you, you revel in his glorious manhood, everything about it utterly perfect and terrifying.
as you touch him, zayne leans into the crook of your shoulder, laying claim to your sensitive neck. he marks every inch of bare skin he can find, leaving a trail of red and wet bruises in his wake. 
your entire palm is wet with his leaking arousal, as he moans so closely into your ear. gently, he pries your palm away from him, sitting back up onto his knees, smirking satisfyingly down at the marks he’d left, “god, i’ve waited so long to have you.”
you reach down to shimmy out of your pantyhose and black evening dress, leaving you in your black lace thong, naked, willing, and pliant before him. you see him gulp harshly, his eyes hazy with need, and you sit up to level with him, “so take me zayne.”
a low growl rips from his throat, as he pushes you back onto the bed, setting your head against your wooden headboard. zayne tortures you, kissing down your collar, your chest, your naval, and finally down the soft mound of your pelvis. 
zayne seems almost feral as he looks at your lace covered cunt and back up at you, “did you really wear this for him?”
“n-no,” you whine, “i wouldn't have ever l-let him. he wasn't you.”
zayne seems somewhat placated by your response, hooking his cold fingers into the waistband, his voice a low grumble, “that’s my good girl. no one will ever see you in or out of these, but me. right?”
your brain fogs over as he slips your soaked panties down your legs, his breath hitching seeing the string of clear slick clinging to your cunt. 
“fuck.” he’s lost in his stares, in absolute awe of the meal before him, carving every single perfect centimeter into his memory. you squirm under his intense stare.
“zayne please don’t make me wait anymore,” you wine, crying out as he bends down and his lips graze the apex of your slit. 
his voice is incredibly smug, “you are so beautiful when you beg for me.” you sigh in frustration as his lips and fingers continue to just barely graze your needy body. 
“zayne, please,” your body thrusts into his, but he holds you back down, almost impatiently.
“behave yourself, y/n. you can do that for me, can’t you?” his voice is full of command, making you back down instantly, shivering at the suspense of his words.
“i didn't wait this long to have you just to rush all the things i want to do to you,” he all but purrs, as his lips find your soaking slit.
the room is filled with your lewd cries as zayne’s tongue licks a stripe from your clit to your throbbing hole. as your doctor, zayne knew the ins and outs of your body but you never expected him to know you like this. like his tongue was designed for nothing else but to deliver you the most unimaginable pleasure in this world. 
zayne groans when his tongue enters you for the first time, the quivers resonating straight to your core. his nose brushes against your clit as he fucks you with his tongue, the vibrations of his own lust filled grunts bringing you closer to releasing all over his skilled mouth.
your thighs clench against his face, and you almost worry you might suffocate him. you try to pry them away from him, but he only grips them with his strong hands, bringing them closer to his face, wanting nothing more than to be yours, wholly and irrevocably.
“you taste better than i ever imagined,” he moans out, staring into your eyes from between your legs. you blush at the filth of his words and the glistening slick smeared across his lips and chin.
“did you – ahh hah – think about me often?” you tease between the sounds that spill out of your mouth uncontrollably.
he doesn’t answer, instead capturing your entire clit into his lips, sucking in earnest. you feel his smirk as you squeal out, hands digging into the fabric of your sheets and tugging hard. his hands knead your ass as he continues to eat, positively starved.
“z-zayne i-i can’t take much more,” you slur, your toes curling against his sides as he goes back to spearing his tongue in and out of you, using the tip of his nose to massage your clit, inhaling the smell of your arousal into his lungs.
“yeah? is my girl gonna make a mess for me?” he breathes into you, his hands reaching up to toy with your nipples. you cry in response, feeling the coil in your gut tightening beyond belief, the pleasure threatening to make you explode.
“cum into my mouth love, let me taste you,” he whispers breathlessly into your cunt, slipping his middle finger inside of you, the wet sounds of his skin pounding into yours filling the room. you come done instantly, screaming as your back arches off the bed and you release all over zayne’s waiting mouth, hands ripping at his soft hair. 
“that’s it baby, look at you cumming from just one finger,” he muses, working you through your orgasm with just his middle finger. you let out a stream of broken moans, unable to form any words.
“fuck you’re this tight around just one of my fingers?” he murmurs before dipping back down to devour everything you give him. 
he laps up your spend eagerly and diligently, not letting a single drop go to waste. refusing to relent against your twitching clit, zayne devours you until the overstimulation lights your pussy on fire. he’s always had a sweet tooth and it looks like he’s found his absolute favorite dessert, unwilling to give it up any time soon.
“such a messy girl,” he mumbles to himself, the clear strings of arousal sticking from your wet thighs to his chin. 
your thighs tremble at the discomfort of overstimulation, doing your best to back away from him, “mmm zayne, s’too sensitive. no more, please.”
he relents reluctantly, looking utterly displeased with having his treat taken away. as he sits up, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and leans forward into you, tapping your lips with his thumb.
“open,” he commands forcefully, bringing his soaked middle finger up to you. you part your lips obediently, welcoming the taste of you on his skin. his eyes squeeze shut and he lets out a deep heated moan at the feel of your tongue on him, tasting everything he got to taste. his cock literally felt like a ton of bricks needing to be pleased. 
releasing his finger, you reach for his length again, “i-i want to make you feel good too.” 
zayne presses his cold lips to yours, simultaneously undoing the buttons of his shirt. he pulls aways to shrug the clothing off his broad shoulders, giving you an eyeful of his glorious physique. he shivers, letting you jerk his erection up and down, but pushing you down when you try to get on your knees before him.
“next time. we have all the time in the world,” he whispers, pushing you against the headboard, holding your cheek in his large hand, “but right now i need to be inside you.”
the smoldering fire in his eyes makes your mouth dry, and you nod meekly. the promise of a ‘next time’ is enough to have you ready for him again. your cunt still quivered, recovering from your previous orgasm, but pooling at the hoarse need in his tone. 
as your head lays on a pillow against the headboard of your bed, zayne lifts you from the small of your back and shoves another pillow behind you, so that you’re elevated towards him, served on a silver platter.
“spread your legs for me,” he growls, the urgency in his voice leaving little room to protest. and so you obey, widening your legs for him, watching as he admires the area between your thighs like it was 
his hand reaches to cup you, clit caught against his palm and fingers toying with your hole, “who does this belong to?” 
but you can’t hear him through the searing pleasure of his touch against your over sensitive body, the blood pounding in your ears like drums. looking at where his hand meets your body, you cry out at his ministrations against you, your thighs trembling in shivers. 
with his free hand zayne grabs your chin, slipping his thumb into your mouth, harshly forcing your eyes to his, “don’t look away. be a good girl and answer me.”
although his words are driven with lust, they remind you of the emotional turmoil you’d been weathering because of your feelings for the man in front of you.
“m’yours zayne, always been yours,” tears well in your eyes and you hope he can understand the weight behind your words, behind all the lust and arousal filled craze. 
zayne stares back at you, and his eyes hold an entire galaxy of emotions that match the colors of his irises: desire, devotion, awe…and love. 
“and i am yours,” his words strike your heart and you lean up to slot your mouth against his. as he kisses you, he lines up his thick length with your cunt, teasing your clit with his engorged tip, his pre cum mixing with your spend that still leaked out from your prior climax. you cried into his open mouth at his teases, your back arching off the pillow and further into his cock. at your movement, his head catches onto your throbbing and waiting hole, eliciting a deep grunt from him. 
he pulls away, groaning, “so impatient, you want it that bad?” you whimper, burying your face into his neck and latching onto his pulse point to save yourself from having to answer. 
“p-please…” you whisper into his ear. he groans, fishing through the pocket of his pants as he pulls them off of his legs. 
“please what, love?” he smirks at you, pulling his wallet out, now just in his briefs pulled down to let his massive erection free. 
you gulp, staring at the way he stands so proudly against his naval, reaching comfortably to his belly button. his girth rivals that of at least three of your fingers.
the rustling of plastic snaps you out of your shameless ogling. zayne places a condom packet between his teeth, tearing it with one hand. you gulp at the sight of him, but you protest, “i–i um,” you clear your throat, trying to work up the courage to vocalize what you want, “you don’t have to use that.”
zayne’s dark eyes catch yours, and the edge in his voice is dangerous, a warning, “don’t tempt me. i need to protect you.”
your face burns as you try again., “w-what i mean is, well as my doctor you know i’m clean.” you do your best to stop your voice from wavering, “and i-i um i’m on the pill.”
zayne’s eyebrows quirk as his irises darken with heat, “how come i didn't know that?
“i’ve been using an online service for a few months,” you say sheepishly, “s-so you don’t have to use that.”
zayne catches on, a satisfied smirk gracing his features, “is that so?” he teases his entire length on your slit, practically fucking you along the lips of your womanhood. using his swollen tip, he taps your clit forcefully, eliciting a throaty yelp from you.
“tell me what you want.” you shiver at the pure feral domineer in his voice.
“p-please zayne, i want it. i need it.”
“what do you need baby?” 
you groan in frustration, but give into his demands, “i-i need you zayne, need you inside. need it so bad.” the way you can see his breath hitch in his throat fills you with confidence, so you lean closer until your bottom lip brushes against his, “need to feel you inside, please zayne.”
his jaw locks as he grits out forcefully, “i will give you everything.”
zayne holds his cock with one hand, lining it up with your entrance. his other hand grips the wooden beams of your bed frame, “can you take it y/n?”
if you’re being completely honest, you’re not sure you can. though you weren’t a virgin, you had never even seen a man so large, let alone attempted. but at zayne’s expectant expression, you nod eagerly, “y-yes i can, i-i can try.”
“good girl,” he mutters, before sinking himself into you. the stretch is so much worse than you imagined it would be, practically splitting you in half. you squealed, clawing at his biceps as he did his best to enter you. feeling so incredibly stuffed, you look down only to see he’s barely just gotten his tip inside.
the vein in zayne’s forehead throbs as his jaw slackens, a string of swears leaving his lips, “jesus you’re like a vice down there. i need you to loosen up love, or else i’ll never be able to get inside.”
you pant against him, not knowing what to do but to watch the way he stares intently at your tummy. the heat and desire in his expression arouses you beyond belief, and you unconsciously squeeze your velvet walls in excitement. 
zayne’s knuckles turn white as he grips the headboard for support, the veins in his forearms bulging as he groans out, “fuck baby please. are you trying to squeeze it off?”
“sorry, m’sorry. s’too big,” you wail, hands gripping his shoulders for support. the stretch is nothing like you’ve ever felt, and you don’t know if you can take much more than what’s already inside you. “z-zayne it’s too big i c-can’t,” you pant, doing your best to relax and loosen up your muscles. 
“you can, you’re doing so good for me y/n,” zayne huffs out, pushing deeper into you, the slick from your forming arousal and his pre cum starting to make the stretch easier. the drag of his cock against your gummy walls starts to feel so torturously delicious, like your body was made to take him in. 
finally, he eases into you, eyes unable to look away from where your bodies connected.
“if you could see how – hah – beautiful you look like this, spread out for me,” he grunts, being as gentle as he can manage, when all he wanted was to ram into your warm and tight cunt, squeezing him so tightly. 
“been waiting for the day i could – shit – finally be inside you. drove me fucking insane thinking about you and matthew.”
his words are enough to have you leaking all over your joined bodies, the slick dampening his pelvis and your thighs. as he seats himself in you as deeply as he can, his tip brushing against your womb, he lets out a shaky breath of ecstasy.
“is this what you – hah – thought about? when you were with another man?” his words are claiming, making butterflies explode in your gut and your cunt to flutter around him. you can only moan and drool as his body thuds into yours, over and over. 
“sweetest little princess cunt i’ve ever felt,” he swears, languidly withdrawing from you before pushing back in, knocking the breath out of you. with your head leaning against the back of your bed frame you can see every second of his glistening length burrowing in and out of you, like it absolutely owned you. 
“z-zayne,” you moan, nails digging into his shoulders, “please.” you don’t know exactly what you’re begging for, but you can’t stop the words from coming. 
“hah, if you want something you have to – fuck – ask for it love,” he pants, doing his best not to get lost in the pure pleasure of finally getting to be inside you.
his words send you reeling, the ecstasy increasing with each deliberate and hard drag. you fight through the fucked out haze, vision blurred from your hooded lids, “hah - harder please.”
at your request zayne stutters for a brief second, your cunt squeezing so tight he could barely move, “anything for you.” 
with his hand clutching the frame, he uses his other hand to rub harsh circles onto your swollen clit. his pelvis smacks against your thighs and ass so hard that the bed posts knock into the wall repeatedly, the skin slapping sounds mixing with the sounds of the wood against the plaster. 
at the added stimulation your eyes roll into your brain, your eyelids weighing down heavily. zayne leans in until his chest presses against your breasts, your breaths heaving in tandem. his eyes follow yours, forcing you to hold eye contact with every deep thrust into your soul. against your will, your eyelids flutter as the pleasure starts to overcome your fighting consciousness.
you can vaguely make out zayne’s smirk, as his hand leaves the frame to cup your chin in his palm, “don’t tell me you’re already worn out, love.” his fingers flick against your clit.
you yelp out, nails digging into his back with one hand while the other hand smacks his shoulder gently. you pout, “you’re so mean to me.”
he leans down to kiss your shoulder, his pace never faltering. he chuckles against your skin, “but you can take it, right? you always take me so well.” the double meaning of his words makes you clench in excitement, the praise making your chest tighten.
he groans as you clench down onto him, threatening to make him blow, “hah so fucking tight. you like that huh baby? you like it when i praise you?” he thumbs your clit with more intensity, wanting to see you come absolutely undone for him.
you bite your lip to keep from screaming, nodding eagerly in response to his words. zayne’s thrusts only grow in intensity, as if he’s trying to reach your esophagus from your cunt. you’re a mess of uncontrollable moans and mewls, unable to stop your eyes from rolling back and your tongue from hanging out as he fucked you into oblivion.
“look at you,” he grins arrogantly, voice husky with desire and raw possessiveness, “going on a date with my intern just to end up with my cock stuffed in you.”
you whine at his words, simultaneously not wanting to think about matthew but also being so turned on by the dominating undertone of his words. his fingers abandon your clit, much to your disappointment, to trace the bulge his cock makes in your tummy. his other hand pulls your chin down so you can watch him.
“look how deep i am, love,” he grunts. you watch in awe as the small bump in your stomach  bulges and disappears with the rhythm of zayne’s thrusts. with every withdrawal, zayne’s impressive cock glistens with slick, the throbbing veins bulging enough to make you drool. absolutely entranced, you fit your hand under his to stroke at his cock as it pushed through your tummy.
zayne swears as you caress his cock through the bump in your tummy, throwing his head back to catch his breath. his hand goes back to paw at your clit, trying to stop himself from blowing his load into you right there.  
as the climax builds in your gut, you throb around his impossibly hardened length spearing in and out of you, to which he twitches inside of you. the sounds of your combined whimpers and grunts, the lewd smacks of his damp slick dampened skin against yours, and the bed slamming against the wall overwhelm your brain until you can only think about zayne, his cock inside you, and the overwhelming pleasure he’s giving you.
“zayne, i-i’m close,” you cry, hand abandoning your stomach to loop around his neck, digging your nails into his damp skin.
“fuck – i know love, i can feel you trying to squeeze it out of me,” he grunts, body slamming into yours so hard that your body smacks against the headboard.
“i’m gonna – gonna cum,” you cry, nails digging into the taut muscles of his back.
“no,” he demands, and you do your best not to gape at him. he gasps through his next strokes, “be a good girl and wait for me. i want to feel you finish all over me when i cum inside you.”
“o-okay,” you say, but you’re honestly unsure if you’ll be able to wait, the waves of pleasure crashing into you so roughly it threatens to overtake you right then and there.
“that’s my girl,” gripping your chin, zayne leans in to kiss you again, his tongue claiming your warm and waiting mouth. your eyes squeeze shut and your body tenses as you try to quell the raging tides of the impending climax, moaning endlessly into zayne’s mouth.
you pull away to breathe, your lungs needing as much oxygen as possible to withstand the ecstasy. zayne’s hand grips the wooden beams above your bed again, his knuckles turning white as he watches the pleasure contort your beautiful face. 
“i-i can’t – ”
“you can, baby. i’m – hah – almost there, just hold on a little longer for me,” he grunts. the pleasure and pain of his edging threatens to knock you unconscious, but you nod and throw your head back as your eyes roll backwards again.
through your fucked out haze you can vaguely see a strange icy sheen forming on the wooden beams of your bed’s headboard. you follow the path of luminous crystals and realize they’re forming from zayne’s hand that grips against the frame so tightly his knuckles are pale and taut, as he comes closer to exploding inside you. 
unable to shake yourself out of the pleasure, you can’t find the words to warn zayne. you continue to watch in awe as the beautiful iridescent flakes frost over the dull old wood. his palm is covered in a layer of snow white frost, the tiny snowflakes dancing around his skin as it grips the furniture so forcefully. you realize he’s losing control of his evol, because of you. and the idea of that threatens to push you head first into your second orgasm of the night.
it happened so fast. as zayne bullies himself in and out of you, thrusting as if his life depended on it, the wooden beams of your headboard cracks in his hand, the wood turning brittle against his icy evol, and shattering under the force of his bruising grip. 
zayne shields your body with his own as frozen wooden splinters fly everywhere, his thrusts stuttering as the sound of cracking wood pierces the air. you can tell he’s scared, constantly worried about losing control of his evol around you like this. his hands clasp together, massaging his wrists and trying to calm the unpredictable storm of his evol. you can feel him about to pull away, to get away from you and keep you safe.
you hug him close to you as he tries to pull away not wanting him to stop, not caring the least bit about the splintering wood falling into your hair. the worry and disgust with himself is evident in his eyes, and it tears at your heart so you do your best to comfort him, “s’okay zayne, it’s not a big deal, i promise.”
but his eyes are far away, thick with emotions that make your chest lurch. you hold his face in  your hands trying to get him to look at you and not the splintered mess of furniture above you. you lock your knees around his waist. “zayne baby,” you soothe gently, “look at me. look at me please.”
his frantic eyes meet yours under the guidance of your palms. you watch as the storm in his eyes calms down ever so slightly when they meet yours. you brush your thumb against his cheek, whispering, “don’t stop, please. m’so close. i need you.” 
but zayne is hesitant, only filled with worry for you, his thrusts halting altogether but still thick and solid in you. his jaw clenches down, “did i hurt you?”
“not at all,” you reassure, hand stroking his anguish laced face, “i don’t care, please make me cum zayne, want to cum for you s’bad.”
zayne continues his thrusts slowly, trying to shake away his anger at himself, “hah – i’m so sorry y/n, i’ll buy you a new one, okay?”
“y-yes whatever you want, but please just fuck me,” you plead, not wanting your climax to slip through your fingers, “please don’t stop.” 
your begging is enough to have zayne going feral again, slowly regaining the vigor in his thrusts. his hand dusts the wooden fragments away from your hair. your head sinks deep into the pillow, and falls back to peer at the gaping hole in your bed frame, slightly in awe of his sheer primal strength. it honestly turned you on unbelievably, edging you closer and closer. 
“zayne i c-can’t wait anymore, m’sorry m’cumming,” you wail, your nails digging through his back as the ecstasy explodes in your body, from the tips of your curled toes to your fucked out brain. your walls flex against zayne’s vigorous thrusts as he continues to chase his own high, briefly forgetting about the furniture he’d ruined in his brief slip of control. 
your eyes pull away from the snowflakes melting on the splintered headboard and fixate on zayne’s eyes as your vision spots with fireworks, his cock pistoning in and out of you relentlessly. 
he lifts your thighs up until they press against his chest, your muscles aching in protest. your ankles rest on his shoulders as he drives himself into your guts at this angle. he leans down and your body screams at the stretch in your muscles but he hits you so deeply like this you can’t feel anything but pleasure. he hits your g spot at every thrust, your body barely recovering from the previous orgasm as he steers you straight into another. 
“sh-shit,” he groans, his eyes hooded as they bore into yours, “squeezing me so fucking tight, are you trying to milk me? if you keep clenching down like that i’m gonna – fuck!” he swears at your nails digging into his broad back, dragging deep scratches into him as he fucks you roughly through the pleasure. 
“p-please zayne i want to feel you,” you cry, “cum inside me, please.” as zayne pounds into you with no semblance of mercy, stars blur your vision, your body doing your best to accommodate him and the endless waves of overwhelming ecstasy. your wet release splashes against your skin with every thrust of his hard muscular body. 
“f-fuck i’m gonna cum so deep inside you baby,” he groans with his eyes intently staring into yours, “this pussy is all mine.”
“you’re mine,” his voice is intense, a primal growl of urge and possessiveness, claiming you as his with both words and with his body. he bends back down, pressing a wet open mouthed kiss into you, tongue intertwining with yours needily. both his hands threads through your hair, tugging gently as he rocks into you. he groans into your mouth, body shuddering as he finally releases into you.
zayne rips away from your lips to rock onto his knees before you and carry you onto his lap, wanting to be able to hold you as close as possible as he emptied rope after rope inside of you. the angle allowed him to literally fuck his spend up into you. your legs wrap around his waist and your hands around his neck, unable to even squeal at the sudden movement, only able to drool out against the crook of his neck. 
his spend is so deliciously hot inside of you, as your pussy quivers at the warmth, squeezing him even more. he forces his tongue into you again, wanting to be attached to you in every way as he pumps every thick rope into your waiting womb. as he tugs on your bottom lip, body still pressed on top of your legs, cock hitting your sweetest spots, you release all over him again.
your eyes squeeze shut as your cunt pulsates uncontrollably, pulling more and more of his essence into you. zayne’s thick muscles shake under you, the waves of his orgasm rocking his entire body into yours.  
you pant as his bounces slow, his unending stamina finally coming to a halt as his sweaty chest heaves against your trembling breasts. he presses gentle kisses to the deep hickeys he’d marked onto your skin, using his broad hands to caress your bruise splotched throat.
the sound of satisfied pants and soft moans blankets the two of you as you snuggle into him, never wanting this moment of post sex bliss to end. your collective spend begins to leak down onto zayne’s lap, your poor cunt physically unable to hold the copious amount of spend inside of you. 
as his member softens it begins to slip out of you uncomfortably, so you squeeze in an effort to keep him in you as long as physically possible. 
zayne swears, his eyes heated and his gentle grip on your throat tightening just slightly, as he warns you darkly, “behave. unless you want me to take you again.”
and though the idea of him bringing you to orgasm again, and many times after, sounds like heaven on earth, you don’t think your poor cunt can possibly handle any more pleasure for tonight. he chuckles when you ease up, stroking the curvature of your naked spine with his icy fingers.
“i’m sorry about your bed, my love,” he murmurs into the shell of your ear, falling softly backwards onto the bed and guiding you down with him until you rested on top of his hard muscular body, his softening erection still nuzzled deep inside you. he’s careful to lay the two of your joined bodies away from the destroyed headboard, holding your head protectively against his chest.  “i will buy you a replacement tomorrow.”
his free hand roams every inch of your body, from twirling the strands of your hair to gripping the supple flesh of your rear. 
“s’okay zayne, it’s not necessary,” you murmur sleepily, tracing the contours of his taut muscles, “i don’t need a new frame.” honestly the idea of zayne breaking your bed in pure primal lust was enough to have the heat collecting back in between your thighs. 
“i would rather you take me on a date,” you smile into his skin, “since you ruined the one i had today.”
zayne chuckles, the sound so warm and beautiful to your ears you think you might melt right into his solid frame, “i suppose i did. will you let me take you out tomorrow?”
you lean up so that your chin rests on his chest and you can peer at him through your lashes, giving him your best begging face, “only if you beg.” 
he looks up at you, the amused lopsided smile on his face just begging to be wiped off, “please? let me take you to dinner.” he lifts your chin off his chest with his index finger, leaning up to press a chaste kiss to your lips. he smirks when you shiver at his fleeting touch, watching you bend to his very will.
“and then after…” he trails off, fingers leaving your face to trace against the side of your exposed breasts, and up to your hard nipples. you bite your lip, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of moaning out. 
as he incessantly fiddles with your skin, you finish his thought with a joke, “after you can come destroy my new bed frame too.”
zayne’s eyes darken with mischief and amusement, “you shouldn't write checks your body can’t cash, my love.”
the filthy promise in his words coupled with his cold fingers pressed deliciously into your pebbled peaks rip the whimper you’d been holding back out of your lips, your cunt clenching in anticipation despite your crippling exhaustion.
but it seems zayne knows your body as well as you do. “but for tonight, just sleep,” he mumbles into the top of your head, pressing his lips into your hair. 
“mmm stay here with me, please,” you murmur into his chest, letting the sleep take root in your pleasure numbed mind. 
“i’ll be here when you wake up,” he reassures, his voice falling deeper and rougher with exhaustion and hands shifting to cover your bodies with your comforter. his hands then wrap around your waist, holding your body against this, as if scared you’d disappear from his arms. “i won’t ever leave you.” 
your heart flutters as the unconsciousness claims you. “g’night zayne,” you mumble, kissing his chest.
“good night my love.”
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explorevenus · 3 months
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addicted ♡ re2r!leon kennedy x reader
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nsfw (18+) - minors dni or i will call the cops
word count - 2.9k
description - by the end of the summer, you're bound for college and your boyfriend leon is bound for his shiny new police officer job in raccoon city. knowing your relationship could be threatened by the distance, your need for each other has become insatiable.
tags/warnings - porn with plot, soft dom leon, car sex, cunnilingus (f receiving), fingering, p in v, creampie, breeding kink, mildly angsty, no use of (Y/N)
a/n - this was a request by my beautiful goth puppy wife chaos baby @nexysworld <333 special thanks to @dollfacefantasy for beta reading and believing in me and also being my momager <3
recommended listening - addicted by saving abel
my masterlist ♡
my ao3 ♡
thanks so much for reading and i hope u enjoy ;w; <3
-venus ♡
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Young adulthood felt so scary and new and weird.
You and Leon had been dating since high school and now you were fully legal adults, figuring out what to do with your lives and pretending you would both fit together seamlessly in each other’s plans. Just weeks ago he had graduated from the police academy and you had until the end of the summer to spend as much time together as possible before he would move into the city to become an officer, and you would be moving states away to attend college.
You told each other you would visit as often as possible, that you would call every day, that as soon as you finished school you would move back to Raccoon City to be with him, or he would find a hiring police station near you to settle into, and you would live happily ever after.
But there was a silent, knowing melancholy that hung over you all the while, and it intensified every day. Neither of you wanted to address it, for fear of spoiling what little time you had left, so it just hung there unspoken as you clung to each other for dear life.
Leon knocked quietly on your door, hoping not to wake your roommates. It was a crisp, clear summer evening and the forecast indicated a meteor shower would be visible, so as soon as he finished up at work, he took the top off of his Jeep, loaded the back with blankets and made his way to you.
His heart softened at the image of you wrapped in a blanket, ducking out of your apartment to follow him out to the car. It was nearing midnight and you were already in pajamas, but it felt right that way. Comfortable. 
Soon enough you were sipping slushies from the gas station, your sneakers kicked up on the dashboard and the wind rushing through your hair as Leon drove the two of you up the base of the Arklay Mountains. There was a little lookout tucked away less than five miles up, one you frequented together practically since you met. This lookout had seen numerous makeouts and unquantifiable hours of conversation, silly and stupid and serious and solemn.
The car slowed to a stop and Leon threw it in park, moving his seat back so he could get comfortable. His lips were stained pink with cherry slush as he looked over to you with a gentle smile.
“Pretty, huh?” He asked, watching as you stared up at the sky, awe-filled eyes searching every gap in the void for a shooting star. His warm, broad hand still rested on your thigh, thumb skimming over the soft fabric of your sweatpants in a gentle caress. 
Relaxing into his touch, you nodded, looking over at him now. Your own lips and tongue were tinted blue and what remained of your slushie was cold in the palm of your hand. It was funny, you thought, that you’d driven all the way out here to watch the meteor shower but still, you couldn’t help but watch each other. The breeze blew warm and the radio played lowly.
“You’re pretty,” You replied quietly, playing with his fingers. Even having been together for years, he still managed to make you shy.
Leon let out a soft laugh and shook his head, his other hand coming forward to tip your chin up. “You’re pretty too,” He began, and you were just beginning to blush when he added, “Pretty corny.”
You threw your head back and groaned dramatically, swatting at his chest. “You’re pretty annoying,” You griped, but before you could continue your playful rant, he guided you back toward him and pressed his lips against your own, and just like always, you melted almost instantaneously. 
At the start the kiss was quite tender, communicating a sense of longing and connection that you had only ever felt with him. His thumb traced your jaw while his grip tightened on your thigh in an affectionate little squeeze and you felt as though you could sit here with him forever, craning your neck over the center console of his Jeep just to kiss him beneath the stars, just to breathe him in, to be with him. Leon was your safe place and even the thought of being away from him sent you into withdrawals.
Your shaking hand came up to cradle the back of his neck, fingers curling into his golden hair as you took it upon yourself to deepen the kiss, wanting to get as much of him as you could. You wanted to horde him all to yourself, you wanted to sink into him and have him sink into you, to pause time and keep him there until you were sick of each other, though you knew no length of time together would ever feel like enough. Tongue swiping against his lower lip, you flattened your palm over the crotch of his jeans and massaged gently.
“F-Fuck, baby,” Leon grunted into your mouth, feeling all the blood rush to his cock in response to your touch and your languid kisses. “I’m gonna miss this…”
“Don’t,” You whispered, “I don’t wanna talk about it… Just wanna feel you…”
With a short nod of understanding he reconnected your lips, sliding his hand beneath the waistband of your sweatpants to dip a finger into your folds, delighted at the realization that you had gone without panties for the evening. He grinned into the kiss and slipped his tongue past you, the pads of his fingers quickly finding your clit with practiced ease.
Your lashes fluttered and your thighs shifted together, a quiet mewl of pleasure tumbling from you as you bucked up into his hand. With each passing second your heart was beating faster and you could feel the wetness collecting beneath his touch.
“Mm, my pretty baby,” He sighed out, the pad of his thumb flicking at your clit while his middle and index fingers petted at your hole. “Put your seat back. Let me taste you.”
There wasn’t a beat of hesitation as you reached down to recline your seat and push it back, and as you did so, Leon was making quick work of climbing over the center console to join you in the passenger seat. He gripped your thighs and pushed your legs up to rest on the dashboard as he yanked your sweatpants down in one swift motion, wasting no time smothering your plush inner thighs with kisses.
His pupils dilated by the scent of your cunt alone, and while he initially planned on taking his time with you, he just couldn’t help himself. Cramped down on the floor of his own passenger seat, Leon’s fingertips printed into your thighs as he dove forward to kiss and lap at your wetness, drinking you up with a deep, wanton need. 
You tensed at the feeling, glittery heat washing over you before you relaxed into his mouth and brought one hand down to tug at his hair, encouraging him further. Your hazy eyes blinked open to look straight up at the sky, the cool night air foreign on your most intimate parts, but not unwelcome. It was quiet out, serene, private, as though you and Leon were the last two people on Earth. A shooting star cast across the sky in a blur, and you quickly realized that your wish was for you and Leon to be the last two people on Earth. Maybe that would be nice. At least your time together wouldn’t be so limited.
Losing Leon felt like losing a limb, even if he was only moving a few hours away to the other side of the mountain. Another shooting star streaked across the night sky, and you barely even noticed you had said something until you already finished speaking, “I wish you could stay… I feel like I can’t breathe without you…”
He hummed into your slick pussy, tongue swirling over your bud before pulling back just far enough to respond, “Not talking about it, baby, remember?”
Your face scrunched up a little bit as you realized your mistake and nodded, returning your focus to the glittering stars above you while your boyfriend sucked and licked at your cunt like he was starving. Soon enough his middle and index fingers were prodding at your hole, tracing the shape of you before sinking deep into your sticky, wet heat, your needy walls sucking him in.
What you didn’t know was that Leon had been focusing so much pleasure on you over the summer because it felt like making up for what he wouldn’t be able to do from thousands of miles away in the fall. You were the only thing he could bring himself to think about since roughly halfway to graduation at the police academy, when he was beginning to pester Raccoon City Police Department with his exemplary test scores and ever-growing resume– by the end of the year you would have both gone so far in separate directions, and long distance wasn’t something you ever excelled at. He knew that the day he left for Raccoon City, he would be effectively nailing the coffin shut.
So he bided his time by fucking you senseless almost daily, eating you out, pinning you down and driving you to tears with your toys, feeling every inch of you beneath his hands just so he wouldn’t forget. Every moan, every mewl, every whimper and sob and plea from you was like music to his ears, like pure heroin directly to the vein. Just like a drug, the better it felt in the moment, the more he knew it would hurt you both later on.
He felt you bucking into his nose and whining quietly, and every twitch of your muscles made his cock throb in his jeans. Leon couldn’t take it anymore, he needed you now.
Pulling back from your core, Leon moved quickly to undo his belt and shove his jeans down his thighs, desperate for some relief from the pressure and intoxicating desire. He was already dribbling precum just from the taste of you, a distinct wet patch growing at the front of his soft blue boxers that soon joined his pants down his legs, and shortly thereafter he was clumsily crawling over you in the passenger seat of his Jeep.
Almost like muscle memory, your arm fell behind you in a blind search for your purse in the back seat. You quickly retrieved it, digging through its contents as Leon’s hands shoved their way up your shirt to paw at your breasts, devouring your throat with kisses, making it a little difficult to maintain your focus. Finally you found what you were looking for, fingers coming into contact with that trusty little box… only to find it empty.
“L-Leon… mm, babe, hey,” You panted in an attempt to gather his attention. He hummed a barely noticeable sound of acknowledgment, but otherwise didn’t budge. You let him continue for a lingering second before breaking the news in a near whisper, “Leon, we’re out of condoms…”
He paused, breaths short and hips rutting into your own with need, his woefully hard cock grinding against your slit. While his body acted on its own in search of any friction he could get, his mind was spinning. He knew you weren’t on birth control and he knew a risk like this could ruin everything you’d both worked so hard for… but for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to care.
In fact, it sort of spurred him on.
He buried his face into your neck again and sucked a harsh, dark mark into your skin, a feeling of possessiveness taking root in him. “Then we’re gonna risk it,” He said definitively, his voice low and almost growling in your ear. “Just think about it, sweetheart… Maybe if you let me knock you up, you can forget all about college… I could just whisk you away to the city with me and take care of you for the rest of our lives…”
A rush of heat struck you like a moving car and knocked the air out of your lungs. You knew it would be stupid to throw away your scholarships and every dream you’d had for yourself on a whim, but it was admittedly a nice fantasy at the very least. Arching into the palm of his hand, you relented.
“F-Fuck, fuck… Fuck me, Leon, please, just fuck me…”
And just as you anticipated, he took you up on that. A cool breeze rushed through the open vehicle as he lined himself up at your hole and drove into you, his vision going white for a second just at the intensity of the pleasure he felt, being engulfed by you again. Your body was heaven on Earth to him, you were heaven on Earth to him. 
He sheathed into you down to the hilt with a low groan, one hand clutching your hip and the other tangled in your hair. Leon tugged your head aside by your hair so he could speak directly into your ear, “You’re mine, you hear me? All mine. My girl, my wife, my pretty little baby mama…”
Each declaration was punctuated by a thrust of the hips, his swollen, leaking cock stuffed so deeply inside you that it was almost like you could feel him in your throat. Any and all concerns about your future, individually and as a couple, burned to ash in the far back of your mind as he fucked into with fervor. In this moment, Leon was all that mattered.
You quivered and writhed beneath him, your gummy insides pulsing and clenching around his length, and even with the top off the Jeep, the windows were beginning to accumulate a subtle fog on them. The two of you were hot and slick with sweat, drowning in the heat of each other and the late summer air.
“Leon,” You moaned, nails biting into his shoulders as you clung to him for dear life, for any shred of stability. “Make me yours…”
At this point, you couldn’t even tell if you were serious, and similarly to Leon, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You were drunk on him and everything about him, the warmth of his skin, the pheromones that clung to his sweat, the strong grip of his hands and the sound of his breaths and the feeling of him railing into you like you were made for each other. 
“Plannin’ on it, baby,” He said in response, words breathy and a smug grin tugging at his lips. He let go of your hair to plant his hand against the window as he increased his pace, plunging into you with ardor, his balls heavy and aching for release. “Gonna keep you all to myself, give you everything you ever wanted.”
The hand of his that was holding your hip just a moment ago was now wedging itself down between you to rub steady circles into your clit. You jolted at the contact, an incoherent cry tumbling from you, molten heat pooling up in your stomach. His earlier ministrations left both him and you especially sensitive and nearing your climaxes.
He could feel your peak approaching through the way you were convulsing around him, your wet cunt tightening and pulling him deeper with each stroke until he couldn’t even think anymore. Every last one of his senses was clouded– no, drenched with you. His pace stuttered just a little bit as he decided he couldn’t possibly hold back any longer.
With a loud, pleasured groan of your name, Leon stilled inside you as a torrent of cum flooded your waiting womb, warming you from the inside. What finally pushed you over the edge into your own release was Leon’s sly fingers tugging and pinching at your bud with expertise.
“G-God, fuck,” You sobbed, breaking skin as your nails raked down his strong back and gripped him as close to you as you could manage. Tears were pricking at your eyes as you coated his cock with your release, leaving behind a creamy white ring of arousal at the base of his softening sex.
Silence fell over the car as you clung to each other, broken only by your gasping breaths for oxygen. Leon buried his face into your shoulder and kissed the sizable hickie he’d left you earlier, still fresh and stinging.
“Did so good for me,” He huffed into your ear, nibbling at your lobe. “I can’t get enough of you.”
Eventually he pulled out, a sticky mixture of your juices dribbling out of your spent hole and down to the leather seat below you. As Leon climbed less than gracefully out of the passenger seat with his pants around his knees, you were both startled by the unexpected sight of headlights traveling up the very same mountain road that led you here, and the vehicle was pulling into the lookout.
“Shit,” Leon grumbled, rushing to fix his pants and toss you a blanket from the back seat to cover up with, given your sweatpants were lost somewhere on the floor of the car.
The intruding vehicle pulled up right behind Leon’s Jeep, headlights shining into the cabin as a person got out of the driver’s side… with a flashlight. Of course it had to be a cop.
Leon took a deep breath before rolling his window down with a polite smile. “Evening, officer… Nice night, isn’t it?”
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oharaslover · 6 months
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el arreglo
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pairing: arranged marriage miguel x fem reader
warnings: miguel being an ass, guy grabbing the reader, oral (f receiving), mirror sex, and overall smut lol 🫣
author’s note: idk what my obsession is with writing asshole mig 😭 i hope you guys aren’t finding it repetitive or boring 🫣 anyways, enjoy <3
word count: 4014
When Miguel had agreed to this arranged marriage set up by your parents, he didn't seem himself having you bent over your shared bathroom sink as he pounded into you from behind, fisting your hair with one hand as he forced you to keep eye contact  with him through the mirror.
It started off at another gala that your father frequented, in an attempt to make himself respected in the business world. His business had recently skyrocketed in profits and he was being acknowledged for the hard work that he put in, but that still wasn't enough for your father. Despite the fact that he was gaining respect from other businesses and gaining opportunities, he quickly became greedy and obsessed when he found out that he was still being ignored by some. With that greed and obsession, the sweet father who used to play Monopoly with you quickly disappeared and transformed into someone ruthless.
You decided to wear a blue dress that plunged at the neckline all the way to your breasts along with a pair of silver stilettos to the gala, making some heads turn at your arrival. Your parents quickly went to go mingle with some of the other guests, eager to make a good impression, while you sat down at one of the tables and sipped on a glass of overpriced champagne. You looked up from your phone when you saw a shadow looming over you, glancing over at the man who was standing in front of you. He was tall, taller than anyone else in the room, and his black hair was pushed back to perfection. Despite how devilishly handsome he looked in the black tux he was wearing, you couldn't help but be enamored by his eyes. They were such a unique shade of brown, almost appearing red when the light hit them right.
"What are you doing here all alone?" He asked, sitting down in front of you as he took a glass of champagne from a waiter passing by. "My parents are out mingling, but conversation about how the stock market is progressing doesn't seem very interesting. and what are you doing here joining me in solitude?" You replied, taking a sip from your glass as you took in the man sitting in front of you. "Like you said, conversation with people who only really care about how many zeros are in your bank account isn't very fulfilling," he remarked, clinking his glass against yours as he took a sip. You looked down to where his hand was holding the champagne glass, the comparison almost funny before you started to think just what he could do with his hands. You snapped out of it, looking back at the man who was smirking at the sight of your flushed face. "So what's your name?" You asked, leaning a bit forward as you set down the glass. "Miguel. Miguel O’Hara, nice to meet you."
Soon after you two had finished up with your champagne glasses, he led you outside to the balcony with the excuse of wanting to hear you better. You two leaned against the balcony, watching some of the other guests arrive or looking up at the twinkling stars. You found conversation to be extremely easy with him, he wasn't anything like the prestigious assholes that your father had tried (and failed) to set you up with. "I don't know, I feel like you're giving me that kind of angsty angry at the world type of vibe," you said after the conversation had turned to what high school was like, eliciting a small laugh from him. "Sort of, yeah. And let me guess, you were the popular cheerleader?" He remarked, leaning against the balcony as he looked over at you. You rubbed the back of your neck nervously, letting out a small sigh before deciding to open up to Miguel. "Uh, no. My dad was struggling to get above profit every quarter so we couldn't afford the extracurriculars. I mean, it wasn't bad or anything but I did end up being the joke of the school," you replied, leaning against the balcony now. "For what it's worth, I would've loved to be your friend."
Eventually after a while of conversing, Miguel extended his hand out to invite you to dance. "You are aware that there's no music out here, right?" You asked, letting out a small laugh as you held his hand. "We'll dance to the rhythm of our hearts," he remarked, letting out a chuckle of his own as he began swaying to an imaginary soundtrack. "I was aware of how corny it was when it left my mouth," he mumbled, his cheeks flushed a bit red with embarrassment. You continued to dance with him, enjoying the way his body moved against yours and the body heat that he was radiating. You looked up to see his gaze already on you, those brown eyes almost sparkling with something similar to desire. "I'm gonna kiss you, is that okay?" He whispered, looking at you for a response. You nodded, closing your eyes as you leaned into it. His mouth was soft, inviting and you could taste the champagne he'd drank earlier along with something just so uniquely... him.
You pulled away when you heard the balcony door open, seeing your father standing there with a smile on his face. "Ah, I see that you've gotten yourself acquainted with your future husband," he remarked, patting Miguel’s shoulder before he walked next to you. Your brows furrowed in confusion as you looked from your father to Miguel, seeing the same expression on his face. "Husband?" You asked after a while, rubbing your arm nervously. "I wasn't aware that it would be you that i'm marrying, but yes, your father thought that us getting married would increase our business profits," Miguel responded, his face turning stone cold and you started to grow annoyed. You'd expected this from your father, to marry you off for his expense without any regard towards your feelings but now Miguel was pretending like there wasn't a spark between you two?
A couple weeks after the gala, your father arranged for your marriage with Miguel to be in the city courthouse with only some of your friends and his potential business partners. You were in the process of moving your stuff into his place in order to make the marriage seem more legitimate. When you arrived at Miguel’s house, you couldn't help but admire the sheer size of it and the amount of expensive decorations he put up, but you couldn't help but notice that it was missing a touch of home. It was like something out of an Airbnb catalog, not a place someone came for solace. The living room was devoid of any pictures of him or his family, full with paintings that must've cost a fortune.
After you finished setting your stuff down in the room he'd set apart for you, you decided to walk downstairs to the kitchen since you hadn't eaten breakfast that morning. You noticed Miguel sitting at the kitchen table in a plain white tee and sweatpants while he typed something up in his computer as you headed to the cupboards. You grabbed a bag of chips and looked over at Miguel, leaning over the table a bit. Things had been distant ever since the kiss and getting married, but you were determined to at least try to get along with your husband. "Hey, how's work going?" You asked, looking at him with a small smile as you opened up your bag of chips. "Can you open that somewhere else? It's too noisy," he grumbled, not bothering to look up from his computer. You let out a small sigh and picked up the bag of chips from the table, starting to walk away before you heard him speak up once more, "And don't think this is going to be a loving marriage. This is only a business transaction and you just happened to be one of the pawns."
You decided to start distancing yourself from Miguel after that, which was considerably easier since he was always away on business trips or working late. You constantly found yourself crying over Miguel’s neglect, wishing that he would show you at least a smidge of attention, but those tears were quickly replaced by burning anger when he rejected every advance you tried to get close to him. Eventually, you started shutting down completely and only coming out of the room when he wasn't home or when you two needed to attend an event together. Even at the events, he still kept you at an arm's length and made a point not to speak with you until it was time to go.
An art showing you were excited for quickly arrived, and you found yourself giggling and smiling when getting ready despite knowing that Miguel wouldn't act differently from those other times. You dressed in a red floor length dress with gold heels, your hair and makeup styled to perfection. You walked downstairs after Miguel complained about you taking too long, seeing his eyes widen just the slightest bit as he held his hand out for you to hold. "You look nice," he offered, walking with you to the car. You'd normally be excited and form delusions about how things were improving between the two of you, but you didn't feel like raising your own hopes for once. "Right because I spent two hours getting ready to look 'nice'," you responded, taking your hand away from his as you walked to the car.
The drive there was silent, the jazz music playing on the stereo filling up the atmosphere. You knew that you'd basically just snapped the only olive branch that he'd offered you, but you couldn't stand to deal with the disappointment that came after realizing that he still didn't like you. You looked out the window, Miguel’s hand lingering on the side of your thigh as he occasionally glanced at you. You two arrived at the gala a couple minutes later, only getting close to pose for pictures and sell the image of the perfect marriage.
You walked over to the bar, leaving Miguel alone as he went to go talk with some of his associates. "One whiskey, please," you asked the bartender when they came over, your eyes occasionally glancing over at what Miguel was doing or who he was talking to. You tried to push the thoughts aside as you took a sip of your whiskey, listening to one of the auctions going on. You finished up with your glass around the time that the auction had ended, looking over to see that Miguel was still busy mingling so you decided to head out to the balcony to get some fresh air.
You were looking out at the night sky when you felt a hand on your shoulder, turning around to see a man around your age giving you a polite smile. "Hey, I couldn't help but notice you're here alone. Aren't you O’hara’s wife?" He asked, leaning against the balcony as he turned to look at you. "I am, but I’m not really that big on socializing," you responded, turning to look over at him. He let out a dark chuckle as he lit up a cigar, taking a huff out of it before he turned to look at you once more. "You know Miguel doesn't really love you right? He's only with you out of convenience," he said after a while of silence, closing the gap between the two of you. "Even if we are, I don't see how that's any of your concern," you said, the words came out more defensively than you had intended them to. His hand lingered on your shoulder, brushing a strand piece of hair aside as his eyes darkened. "I'm just saying, if you're ever tired of being in a loveless marriage, he doesn't have to find out," he spoke a while after, his hand still resting close to you. You were about to push him away when you heard someone speak up behind you, "Get your damn hands off my wife."
You and Miguel walked back to the car in silence a couple minutes after that encounter, and you felt like a scolded kid despite the fact that it wasn't your fault. Once you two settled in the backseat, he turned to look over at you, his gaze softening up just the slightest bit. "Are you okay?" He asked, surprising you completely since he'd never bothered to ask. "What does it matter, Miguel?" You responded, pinching the bridge of your nose as you looked out the window. He spent a couple minutes in silence, before you noticed that you two weren't headed back to the house. "We're headed someplace else," he said, seeing the look of confusion on your face.
His driver pulled over to a secluded spot and Miguel helped you out of the car, grabbing a blanket from the trunk. He set down the blanket and sat down, patting the spot next to him. "You didn't bring me out here to murder me?" You asked, a brow raised as you sat down next to him. "No, that's a completely different spot," he replied, letting out a small chuckle as he glanced down at you. You spent a couple minutes looking at the clearing and at the constellations before glancing over at Miguel, deciding to ask the question that had been lingering in your mind for a while now. "What changed? I mean, why are you so distant despite the connection we had when we met?" You asked, rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly. He let out a sharp exhale, turning to look at you.
"I had a daughter, Gabriella. She was the center of my world, y'know? And then suddenly, she wasn't in my world anymore and that completely destroyed me. It was easy flirting with you in the beginning because I thought it would just be temporary, but then you turned out to be my wife. It had nothing to do with you and everything to do with me. I'm scared that everything I love will end up destroyed," he spoke up after a couple minutes, his voice cracking a bit as he spoke. You were unsure of what to say, so you decided to stay quiet and simply rub your hand on his shoulder, but what you didn't know is that your presence was all Miguel needed to feel okay in that moment. You two stayed quiet for the rest of your time there, just taking the time to be close to each other and enjoy each other's presence for the first time.
Miguel had tried to be a more attentive husband after that trip, getting over his own fears and being vulnerable with you. He started talking to you about work, letting you ask stuff about his personal life, and let you sit down with him while he was typing away at his computer. You were scrolling through your phone while Miguel was working on his computer, not noticing when he had moved over to the couch to sit down next to you. "I have a business trip to go to, but I want to take you out on a proper dinner date when I get back. I know I haven't been the ideal husband but I'm trying here," he said, rubbing your ankle as he looked over at you. You placed your phone down, grateful at the amount of effort that Miguel was willing to put in to make the marriage a bit more bearable. "I appreciate the fact that you're trying. I can't wait," you responded, sitting up to kiss his cheek and hoping that the small act wouldn't scare him off. He responded to the kiss fairly well, returning it and turning the tv on so you two could relax for a bit.
About a week later, you had received a text from Miguel that he would be arriving from his business trip today around 7. You couldn't help but feel excited at the fact that you were finally going to go on an actual date with your husband, so you started dancing in the bathroom while you brushed your teeth. You spent about an hour taking care of your appearance, putting on hydrating face masks and shaving before going to get dressed. You settled on putting a short dress that complimented your curves perfectly with a pair of silver heels, the jewelry matching them. You took out your makeup bag and started to finish getting ready in front of the bathroom mirror, not noticing that Miguel had come inside.
He wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his head on your shoulder as he placed a kiss on your neck. "You look stunning," he whispered, the proximity of how close he was combined with the compliment making the wires in your brain short circuit. You turned around to look at him, seeing that he was already dressed to go out, with the color of shirt matching your dress and black slacks. You couldn't help but notice the loose tie hanging around his neck so you decided to lean in to fix it before he grabbed your hand, kissing the top of it as he looked up at you. "I wanted to be a gentleman and take you out to dinner first but I just can't help myself."
Miguel did quick work of taking himself out of his pants, placing you on the bathroom counter as he looked up at you. "Is this okay with you?" He asked, his hands gently rubbing on your thighs, not wanting to do anything without your proper consent. "More than okay," you responded, watching as he slid your dress up to your hips. He got on his knees, starting to lick a stripe up your thigh before he did quick work of slipping your panties down. "Such a pretty pussy," he whispered before he leaned in, running his mouth through your folds. His tongue explored every part of you, basking in the experience as he gently tugged and sucked. He licked a stripe from your weeping hole to your clit, your manicured hands tugging on his hair. He slipped his tongue inside, letting out a low moan as the vibrations went through you, causing your legs to twitch a bit.
He gripped your legs tightly as he sucked on your hole, lapping at the juices you were releasing. He looked up at you with his tongue buried in you, the tip of his nose wet from your juices. You let out a small moan at how pretty he was, your hips grinding against his face as you sought out more. "So greedy," he said with a small chuckle, taking his pointer and middle finger to tap against your lower lip. You opened up your mouth, your tongue running the sides as you sucked on his fingers. He took them out and got on his knees once more, slipping them inside of you with ease. You let out a loud moan as you felt his fingers curl to hit your g-spot, your toes curling in the silver heels. Your legs began to twitch as he started to suck on your clit, his tongue working expertly to provide you with pleasure you needed. His fingers and mouth worked in tandem to provide you with the stimulation you craved, your hands tugging on his hair as your hips grinded against his face. "I-I'm close!" You moaned out, the peak of your climax approaching quickly with every suck of your clit. With one final thrust of his fingers, you gushed around them, your face contorted in pleasure. He got up from the floor, his eyes on you as he sucked your release from his fingers.
Miguel kept you in the same position as he aligned his cock with your pussy, his gaze on you as he started to slide himself in. He let out a low moan as he bottomed out, his hands on your hips while he started off slowly. He grabbed his discarded tie off the counter, tying your hands together and your legs were on his shoulders, the angle allowing Miguel to slip in deeply with ease. He started moving faster when he noticed your hips moving against his, his balls slapping against your ass. Your walls clenched around him tightly, eliciting a moan to come out of him as he thrusted in you faster. The grip on your hips was sure to leave you bruises by tomorrow, but you couldn't find it to care with all the pleasure he was giving you. He looked up at the mirror, seeing your body underneath his and got an idea.
He bent you over the mirror, having you look at yourself as he slid inside of you once more. You pressed your hands down on the counter as he began to quicken up the pace, your back flush against his chest as you closed your eyes. He couldn't have that, of course, so he tugged on your hair, forcing you to keep eye contact with him through the mirror. You felt a new wave of arousal coat his cock as he maintained the eye contact, your walls clenching around him tightly. His balls slapped against your ass as he thrusted in deeply and quickly, seeking out for both of you to get to that peak. His thumb rubbed small circles on your clit, gently pinching it as he worked to give you what he could. "You look so pretty taking me like this, tesoro," he moaned out, raising one of his hands to slap your ass. You felt your legs tremble as he continued to hit your g-spot and his thumb stimulated your clit, quickly coming to your orgasm. (treasure)
Your release formed a creamy white ring around the base of his cock, your eyes closed in pure bliss. He pressed your face against the mirror, shaking his head in fake disappointment as he continued to thrust in your pussy, seeking out his own release. "Keep your eyes on the mirror," he said, the command coming out more breathless than he expected. With one final thrust, his cum coated your walls as he fucked into you. He let his chest fall against your back, gripping you tightly as he got his breathing under control. He slipped his softening cock out of you, his fingers pushing the cum leaking from your pussy back inside. You took his fingers in your mouth, sucking them off once more as you tasted the combined release from you two.
He helped you get cleaned up and even cooked up some spaghetti before he laid down in bed with you. He gently rubbed your shoulders as you started to drift off to sleep, his chest flush against your back. "Thank you.. for not giving up on me. I really appreciate it," he whispered, kissing your cheek as he stroked your thigh. "You're a person worth knowing," you replied, turning around to face him as your hand rested on his cheek. You felt yourself growing sleepy from the combined body warmth and how good his fingers felt on your skin. "You can go to sleep, I'll be here in the morning."
He, however, was not there in the morning when you woke up. You thought that after the time you spent getting close to him and especially now after having sex, he would start to open up to the possibility of advancing your relationship. However, it seemed like the act simply pushed him away further and erased the progress you had achieved. You decided to knock on his office door, getting tired of the silent treatment and mixed signals to ask what was going on and he simply responded with, "What we did was a mistake. I'm sorry that you thought we could be something more but you're just a business transaction."
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natdu · 4 months
Note
Could you make an idea where Bokuto, Iwaizumi, and Suna,Wakatoshi find out that Readers had a crush on them in the past.
Hey love sure I can ^^ my pleasure
I only did 3 characters (*¯︶¯*) (it's more about length than anything) oh and you didn't specify the genre so I took some liberties there
Pairings (separate): Timeskip! Ushijima, Bokuto & Iwaizumi x Fem! Reader
Prompt: They find out you had a crush on them in the past
Genre: Angsty (barely there), crack, fluff
Warnings & content: Grammar - cursing- kinda short ugh - Honorifics - Argentinian Tooru 🤌🏻 - Reader is Oikawa's sister on Iwa's
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Ushijima Wakatoshi
"A ton of girls had crushes on you Wakatoshi"
"I find that.... Non probable"
"No no, he's right"
Since Ushijima had finally spare time on his busy schedule he could meet with some of his former teammates and still friends.
Stories came and went, memories, little inside jokes. And finally, the subject of high-school or college crushes, first loves, you name it, came into conversation
"Shirabu probably had more fans in that aspect?"
"With that bowl cut?!?!"
"Because he's a med student you dumbass!"
"No need to yell Semi Semi"
"Stop that!"
"Now now uh.... Wakatoshi are you alright?"
Ushijima looked like he had a revelation or rather as he was depicting some big enigma
"How would those people act when having a crush... On me"
Both of the once spiky haired friends looked at each other, one more amused than the other
"Well it depended on the person Wakatoshi-kun. Some of them were more shy and looked at you from the bleachers"
"I saw one being bolder and leaving some notes on your locker, you never told us about it so we let it go"
Ah yes, notes. Little notepads or post it mainly in green with encouragement words, compliments to his appearance, to his devotion to the sport and so on
"The notes one... I.... I know her"
A dual toned of a "What?!?!" screeched comically to the sky
And there was a sudden change in the vibes of the café you were sitting down, as you felt a shiver running through your spine
"Who's talking shit about me?"
"No one geez. Get to work, we're under the deadline you have to move" Your co-worker said with a whine. You both had taken your laptops to keep on track as the official time at the office wasn't enough
Thankfully you were at least enjoying a little treat before arriving home to deploy into your bed and sleep like a bear but....
People around couldn't help to notice 3 tall grown men, one in rock-punk attire, another with a red buzzcut and THE Ushijima Wakatoshi
Safe to say you're quite clueless when tired and tasting a late night iced coffee with double whipped cream
"That's her?"
"How do you know her?"
Ushijima sighed and didn't take off his gaze from you as he wrote down on something that was in his hands
"She works in the monthly volleyball magazine... We kind of have been finding each other even after school"
"Soooo a sports journalist, nice Wakatoshi-kun, oh?"
The tease didn't reach Ushijima's ears as he was walking up to you with an unusual shy stance and with the something he wrote on clutched in his big hands
He was practically at your nose when you noticed his presence, and his extended hand with a pink post it
"Ushijima?"
"May I give back those words you sent to me?"
Cue two (three with your coworkers) distand gasps and chuckles, in synch to the memories that flew to your mind
"What words do you - Ohhhhh right....."
You coughed awkwardly
"Umm do you know what those meant? Like what little me wanted to achieve?"
Ushijima nodded and sat down by your side with a look you recognised
The one he had when he targeted a place to spike, a goal
"I understand now, quite shamefully.... But the intention is now, I hope, the same"
Your brain stopped working and the only sight was of 16 year old you giving up and just delivering Ushijima the notes in person, not caring since his reaction was always the same: A soft "Thank you, I'll work hard" and sometimes a pat on your head
You were sure your feelings weren't reciprocated. And while it hurt a little, you didn't stop giving the little snippets of your puppy love, just wanting him to feel cared of, feel loved even...
So imagine your poor heart when you saw the post it
A little wobbly heart and a "I liked you too, I still do"
And when you glanced at him you couldn't suppress the palpitations and heat over your face. As if you were a teenager over again
Ushijima wasn't at a better state.
He remembered himself, fixed on his first love: the court and the feeling of victory. He knew you were special to him and vice versa, after all, who would spend so many ink and paper on him? He appreciated the gestures and the fuzzy feeling in the pit of his stomach, he thought it was because your words were always sincere, without a second intention, he liked that. That was all, he swore
But like some sort of cinematic flashback he realised how many other people made known their affection for him, and while he had noticed them he never felt the same as with yours.
Guess some form of love was what he felt everytime he saw your gifts, even after when he saw you on your classroom or club room. Almost as when he played volleyball with his dad on his little backyard
Adult Ushijima wanted to smack his poor oblivious self, even his self of half an hour ago. Alas it was too late to be at the end of your fondness
"You can always pretend this didn't happen-"
He said, as a way to save you from the embarrassment
But it was your turn to surprise him, as you interrupted him
"Over my dead body"
You saw him smile at your dramatic answer and when he was about to grab your hand your coworker dissipated the little glittery pink atmosphere you had
"Hey earth to my friend? Sorry Ushijima-san I need her to finish this. After that she's all yours"
Safe to say you worked faster than ever with the new hope sown into your heart and the pinky holding yours under the table
Bokuto Kōtaro
Right now the only thing your mind could be concentrated on was the way Bokuto stuffed down your batch of muffins. His squirrel like cheeks making you giggle internally, you couldn't believe this hunk of a man would be enjoying your work so much
"They're always so good! I swear you make the best comfort pastries here!"
You hummed as you gently swiped some of the crumbs plastered on his cheeks "Glad to see they bring such much joy Bokuto-san"
"You sound just like Akaashi, just Bokuto is fine really"
"I refuse to. Remember, it's like we met again"
It was somewhat true. You've had met on a Fukorodani vs Nekoma practice match and while you were cheering for your own team the one who caught your eye was the opposite team's ace.
Crushing on him wasn't difficult
The difficult part was to go up to him and confess. As emotionally intelligent as he was, it seemed like his ability died when you were on his ratio
You gave him a letter on the training camp "Oh thanks for the support! I love encouraging notes!"
Gave him something for valentines, when you sneaked out of school to deliver it "D'awww you didn't have to. I'll share these with the team, there's a lot!"
At one point you just decided to stop. Fortunately at the same time you both graduated and, since you wouldn't follow volleyball steps, you didn't think you would find him again
Except you did, when he was broader, more cheerful, more mature.... Even more handsome.
The little bakery escapade leadered by Hinata ended up in your heart feeling the same twisting motion you did on your cinnamon rolls.
And now you're here, after some months were Bokuto had spent quite literally all of his free time with you. He didn't even eat in all his visits, which you thanked since you didn't want to be on the watch list of his nutritionist
"All of this starting again and stuff, why?"
Golden eyes now watching into your very soul. One that was still yearning
"It's silly Bokuto-San...."
And what's best for the weak of heart than to let go? You're an adult after all, you should be able to talk about feelings and high-school crushes without feeling overwhelmed
"I liked you when we were at school so I wanted a fresh start, a new me that wouldn't be so head over heels for you" you tried to entone in a playful manner
Yeah that's it, this would give you the closure your heart needed
"ARE YOU KIDDING ME!?"
Was the slight exasperation from Bokuto's mouth
"H-huh?"
You were kinda used to his sudden outburst of energy, his expressions of sadness, pride everything else. But this, this was raw pain
His hands were gripping his hair, almost hurting the scalp. And you almost jump on your seat when he let out a heartbreaking whine
"I had the fattest crush on you since I met you" he then cursed softly and hid his face on his hands, his hair going automatically down
"I messed up, didn't I? Why would you be trying to fall out of me? Oh I swear to-" he continued his ramble, loud enough to scape through his fingers
"Bokuto-San"
You called once
"Bokuto"
Then twice
And at the third time his words were almost materializing in the air and clouding the view
"Kōtaro"
Oh that did the trick, his hands on his thighs and his full attention on you
"Y-yeah?"
Were those tears on his eyes? No, never mind, why did he ignored your confessions if he liked you too? You needed answers
"I think I was rather obvious back then, why didn't you say anything?"
His eyes widened once again and grimaced as he let his head hit the table
"I thought you were just being kind and nice" he turned his face and looked at you "Thought you liked Yaku, you know? He seemed more like your type than me" the last part said with a pout
And with the confusion resolved you giggled at you both's naiveness and placed your palm against his chin, taking his face away from the table
"Well, I never gave Yaku a love letter or a basket full of home made pastries for valentines"
"Oh" was his answer as he looked down to the floor with a sheepish expression
"Oh" You mirrored and left a tentative kiss on his cheek. A kiss that made him recover the color of his face and the glint of his eyes
"Is this another way to start again?"
"mmm?"
"Cuz I'd love to take you on a date"
Iwaizumi Hajime
"Iwa-chanIwa-chanIwa-chan"
"God dammit what do you want Oikawa?"
"Le gustabas a mi hermana cuando estábamos en el colegio"
"What the hell is that suppose to mean?!"
Ah yes, another day of Oikawa saying stuff to Iwaizumi in full spanish just to leave him hanging on the meaning. Typical Monday evening at the Oikawa household when he came to visit
"I might ruin your source of income for when you ruin your knees and shoulders"
"And that is?"
"Your face"
Oikawa faked a faint and rested his head on Iwa's shoulder
"Oh poor me with all my money, and my fans y los sobrinos que me hubieras dado si fueras más atento"
"I swear to every good thing on heaven that if you don't tell me what on God's earth that means-"
"Hajime"
Bingo, you could answer his questions. You were Oikawa's little sister and when you finished high school you followed your brother steps to Argentina, being a tad bit more fluent than him even mastering the accent
"Is Tōru making fun of you again?" You giggled as you pushed your brothers face out of his bicep
Yeah, you were sweeter but still an Oikawa. A tease, a menace and the source of pain of his heart
Fuck the cliché of falling for your best friend's sibling. Iwaizumi swore to every deity it wasn't funny, might as well make him fall for a celebrity that studied in the same school, at least his delusions wouldn't be fed everyday
You teased the living lights out of him, but most of your shenanigans were directed at Oikawa so it was a weird alliance between the two of you.
And he couldn't help but hope. You didn't give home made meals to the whole team, just him.... And Oikawa, sometimes the whole Seijoh four.... Yeah that crosses it out
Or when you let him rest his head on your lap--Ah shit you did that with Kyotani once, mostly because his dog had died but nothing else
Hugs? You were physically affectionate with everyone and that just doubled when you went abroad
Special attention? You were basically the non official manager for them and the president of your class, you gave attention to everyone
Third year Iwaizumi concluded his attraction for you was a cruel destiny's game
At least he had your friendship
"I just need you to translate something your idiotic brother has been saying to me"
"Iwa-chan rude!"
"Ah the magic word Hajime"
Seriously?
"Ple-"
"No Hajime, how I taught you"
He just rolled his eyes but a smirk set on his lips
"Por favor"
Oikawa looked like that meme/gif cat who's in shock moving their face around as he hear the soft not so foreign words
"You little traitor you've been teaching him stuff!? IDIOTA!"
Iwaizumi lost your focus as you started bickering with Oikawa, until a tiny eeny secret was dropped
"Why do you care so much Tōru!?"
"I just told him you liked him!"
What. In Iwaizumi's voice
What. In your voice
Mierda. In Oikawa's voice
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I'm kind of a sucker for this trope, when it's reciprocated is super cute (ノ´ヮ`) (tho I feel my writing in this is wack)
Iwa's it's a bit of crack but like, it just flowed jsjs
Hope you're still there anon and that you like this huhu
Natdu
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fayes-fics · 10 months
Text
Second Son
Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader
Summary: The second son is, for once, the first choice...
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Warnings: none really... mild angst, family dynamics, love at first sight.
Word Count: 2.9k
Authors Note: Request fill for anon here, about Benedict being the second choice for everything.... until his love turns up. Thanks for this request; I hope this is angsty enough for you anon. Im not sure about it tbh. Sorry that it's taken more than three months to get to it on my WIP list. Unbetaed. Enjoy <3
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Benedict Bridgerton was born into privilege and can have few complaints. Except perhaps that he is always second. The spare. The just-in-case option. Being a familial insurance policy lends one more freedom than the burden of being the titled first son, perhaps, but it also feels like your whole existence, in some respects, can seem like a contingency plan.
____
His stomach swoops with excitement as the arrow pierces the target dead on the bullseye. And on his first ever archery lesson, just after his twelfth birthday.
He turns around to see if anyone is there to witness his triumph, but it goes unmarked. All his young siblings gathered around Anthony, patting him on the back for his achievements in doing the same moments before. Being a good shot is an essential skill for the next Viscount indeed. The fact that he has been receiving instruction for months already and this is Benedict’s first lesson hurts a little.
But he doesn't bother to bring attention to his arguably more impressive feat. It seems pointless now. Wordlessly he shrugs and walks towards the target, plucking out his arrow and starting again. Perhaps next time, they will notice.
____
“Is that the new Viscount Bridgerton?” Benedict hears a young girl murmur as he sweeps into the first societal event of the season, the spring following his father's death. 
“Oh no, my dear, sadly not; I believe that is one of the brothers,” her mother replies, acting as if he has no sense of hearing, even trying to ignore it as he is, surveying the crowd.
“Such a shame,” the young girl huffs, “he is so very handsome.”
“Yes, dear, but sadly not titled. We can do better,” her mother chides, moving them along out of earshot.
He will never get over how cutthroat the Ton can be, a part of his tender seventeen-year-old heart sinking. Not that he had a potential interest in that girl, more the principle that he will somehow be rendered as an also-ran, at best a consolation prize, for the rest of his life.
What is most galling, perhaps, is that, when his mother needs their presence the most on a night like tonight, the new VIscount is nowhere to be seen. Has not even bothered to show his face, running off to some spurious gambling den and brothel, spending the night indulging himself rather than facing society. 
So here Benedict is, stepping up to play the dutiful son that his elder brother should be. Being the support their mother so desperately needs at her first event as a widow, her arm looped heavily through his, her whole bodyweight seeming to use him as her literal pillar of support. As he escorts her around the room, he is filled with admiration at her brave face. He can see the overwhelming sadness in her eyes every time the word dowager is invoked, and his heart cracks a little at the loneliness he can feel emanating from his mother’s very soul. 
“Tis a shame the Viscount did not deign the first event of the season worthy of his patronage,” she states pointedly as she sips champagne.
“I am sure he has very good reasons for his absence,” Benedict replies soothingly, covering for his errant brother, attempting to shield their mother from the truth of his philandering ways. Benedict knows it is Anthony’s way of dealing with the responsibility of the title of Viscount being thrust upon him so young. But sometimes, just sometimes, Benedict wishes he could escape his grief in such a manner, Anthony taking his turn attending a stuffy ball and playing guardian to a grieving woman. Their burdens may be different, but the wish to escape them is often not, Benedict realises.
____
She catches his eye at a garden party at Aubrey Hall. She is a pretty young lady, maybe eighteen to his twenty-three, with bright eyes and a sweet, happy face. She makes his palms slightly sweaty. He watches her from a distance, uncertain how to approach or what to say, feeling a little tongue-tied, even. 
Just then, Anthony materialises at his shoulder.
“Who is that pretty young thing?” Anthony asks, tracing Benedict’s line of sight.
“Miss Bradstreet,” he replies, watching as she turns to face the sun, closing her eyes, basking in its warmth. The light captures her cheekbones perfectly, and he itches to have his sketchbook and capture her likeness. He would very much like to get to know her better.
“Let's go provide a warm welcome,” Anthony smirks, clapping a hand on Benedict’s shoulder and practically dragging him across the lawn.
Benedict reluctantly follows, a flutter of excitement as her eyes land upon them as they approach. 
“Miss Bradstreet,” Anthony swaggers. “Viscount Bridgerton at your service; I am so very pleased to be your host today,” he bows.
Benedict's stomach plunges as he watches her practically melt into the lawn right there, virtually swooning at Anthony’s feet.
“Oh, and this is my brother, Benedict,” Anthony adds, almost as an afterthought. 
She flicks her head to the side briefly to politely acknowledge Benedict before returning to Anthony. All of her undivided adoring attention on him as he regales the story of his latest hunting triumphs upon her insistence. Benedict heaves a sigh and watches as yet another young lady he likes chooses his brother over him. He is almost used to it now, but it doesn't stop the sting every time.
____
Your world grinds to a halt as you see him. He is descending the stairs with what you assume is the rest of his family. He is very much in the middle of a tight circle, walking behind what appears to be his mother and perhaps older brother. Quite the most beautiful man you have ever seen, your heart pounding in your ears, your throat suddenly dry despite the lemonade in your hand. You assume they must be the hosts, seeing as they are the very last to enter the ballroom here at Bridgerton House, and there is no announcement of their name.
“Who is that?” you whisper, leaning towards your elder sister. She has been out among society for a year and knows the Ton better than you.
“That is the Bridgerton family, of course,” she replies. “Illustrious in the extreme. Our hosts for this evening. The Viscount there is the most eligible bachelor of every season… and every season, he has resisted a match. So I wouldn't bother if I were you,” she sniffs.
“Which is the Viscount?” you check, your eyes unable to leave the beautiful man with a cravat tied in the most unconventional fashion.
“The one with his arm looped with their mother, the dowager Viscountess, naturally,” your sister rolls her eyes as if patently obvious.
“And what of the others?” you inquire keenly, realising the man you admire cannot be the one your sister is referring to. “Do you know their names?”
“I do not,” she admits, “such things are not really important when one is looking for a titled husband,” she points out airily. 
You nod, knowing the responsibility your sister must carry as firstborn to find a suitable match that can provide for your widowed mother and, indeed, perhaps yourself and your younger sister should neither of you be able to find a husband. You don’t envy her position one little bit. 
You are, however, desperate to get closer to the most beautiful man you have ever seen. And so you spend your evening working towards them, in as polite of a fashion as you can, your stomach in knots of excitement to know him.
“Dowager Viscountess Bridgerton, it is an honour and a pleasure to meet you,” you curtsy, heart pounding as he now stands a few feet away, unable to look at him so close by.
“Hello, my dear and you are?” she asks politely.
“Miss y/n y/l/n, it is my very first season; I am so honoured to be here,” you explain. “I must provide the apologies of my mother, Mrs y/l/n, who could not attend tonight due to a cold, but she is so very thankful for the invitation.”
“Oh, of course,” the viscountess smiles. “I am so sorry to hear of her illness; please pass on my best regards… Anthony!” she turns to her side to grab the attention of a man. The viscount’s head whips around from where he is in discussion with another. “Come meet Miss y/l/n,” she needles pointedly. “Miss y/l/n, this is the Viscount Anthony Brdgerton, and he is so pleased not only to make your acquaintance but also for your presence here tonight,” she welcomes on his behalf, and you do not miss the subtle nudge in the ribs she gives him.
Then his regard is drawn to you. He is handsome certainly, and you appreciate his polite but absent-minded greeting. His attentions are obviously elsewhere, but then you cannot fault him as yours are the same. Your gaze strays over his shoulder to the man who first captures your attention. And your breath is stolen by how his hazy blue eyes stare intently at you.
____
Benedict is twenty-six years old when he is struck by lightning. Not literally. But that is the sensation that runs through his body when he first lays eyes on you—politely introducing yourself to his mother and thanking her for your invitation to this ball. 
He thought he knew what attraction was until this point. He thought he knew the depths to which one could fall in love in an instant. He was an utter fool. He looks at you, and at once, everything is so quiet and loud all at once. He is desperate to know you in a way he has never felt. To grab your hand, take you somewhere, and ask you a million questions to get to know your soul. He also wants to kiss you so much that his lips tingle. And inside, his lungs want to scream as his mother does the natural thing and introduces the beautiful, polite young lady to her most eligible son… Anthony. 
Then his heart jolts as your eyes stray from Anthony and meets his, your pupils dilating in a way that makes his lungs too small to inhale air. It is the first and only time a young woman has had Anthony’s full attention and has looked away from it. And to him, no less. The tidal flood of chemicals in his system makes it feel like he is vibrating in his very shoes.
____
You try your best to be polite and look at Anthony as he speaks, but your sight is drawn to this other man like a moth to a flame. From appearance, the second son, as you are the second daughter. A flare of understanding and sympathy in your chest as to how that is. You want to grab his hand and run away with him.
“My lord,” you find your voice and snap your eyes back to the Viscount, “would you do me the honour of introducing me to the rest of your wonderful family?” your ask, almost timid.
He looks temporarily taken aback, as if mystified why anyone in the Ton would care about the status of anyone beyond his mother and himself. You smile at him expectantly and do not miss, from the corner of your eye, how the beautiful man’s face is awash with surprise at your request.
“Oh, most certainly,” Anthony seems to snap out of his temporary stupor and turns to introduce his siblings in attendance. A tall, baby-faced young man stands to attention as Anthony moves from left to right. “This is Colin; he has just returned from his travels in Greece,” you nod and smile politely, knowing nothing of the subject. “And this is my sister, Eloise; it is her first season, and she is not in the slightest bit happy about that,” he adds dryly, and you can't help but giggle and feel a kinship with the spirited young lady who returns your wry smile. “My eldest sister, the Duchess of Hastings, who is visiting us,”
You curtsy and bow your head. “It is an honour, your Grace,” you add, and she smiles sweetly at you, her arm looped in her mother's.
“Obviously, you have met my mother,” he continues, and suddenly he is the last in the line. You feel your palms clench, sweaty in anticipation of learning his name “... and this is my brother, Benedict; he hopes to be an artist.”
You are finally brave enough to meet his eyes again. He is so achingly beautiful that the rest of his family, indeed the whole ballroom, melt away from your view—he is all you can see.
“Oh, I adore art,” you stutter, mesmerised, offering your hand to him, the first and only person in the family you do so to. Unseen by you, your gaze only on one man, Anthony’s mouth drops open in surprise.
Nothing can prepare you for when Benedict’s gloved hand gently touches yours, him bowing to kiss the back of your hand. You catch a woody citrus scent that makes your mouth water as he does so. And then you feel the warmth of his lips through your glove, and you are utterly undone.
“Miss y/l/n,” he rumbles quietly, the sound making your insides melt even more; it's deep and resonant and makes every inch of your body tingle.
“Please call me y/n,” you murmur, moving closer, knowing how scandalous that might be, but seemingly unable to stop yourself. He has a hypnotic hold over you that you don't want to fight.
“Only if you shall call me Benedict,” he breathes, and it takes Anthony clearing his throat to make you spring apart, suddenly remembering where you are.
____
His lips touch the silk of your glove, and he is gone. 
Already planning a future, his mind supplying images of you at his cottage out in the country, the lady of the house. Tending to the herb garden, reading happily curled up in front of the fire in the drawing room, fearlessly plucking a bow as you stand in front of joint archery targets gently teasing him for losing to a girl, and finally, the image that truly knocks the wind out of him, you naked under him, desperately moaning his name as you move together, entwined in ecstasy.
He hears your sharp inhale, and his heart skips at the idea you feel it too. That you are the first woman ever that sees him and not Anthony. Really sees him. Not as the second son. Not as a consolation prize. 
And when your body seems to sway towards him, he is already mentally asking his mother for a betrothal ring from her grandmother, which she said she is keeping just for him.
____
“Benedict,” his name feels wonderful in your mouth, like a gift from the heavens. “Please, may we take a turn around the gardens?” you implore, the boldest you have ever been in your whole life. 
“It would be my very greatest pleasure,” he responds.
And you know with absolute certainty you have met your husband, the father of your children, your very future. 
____
“It is not as if this is my show….” he sighs.
“You should not do that, darling,” you say affectionately, ruffling his hair as you move to fix his cravat; it definitely needs to be more jaunty, in your opinion.
“Do what?” he breathes, his wedding ring catching the light as he places his hands gently over yours and stills your motions.
“Think of yourself as second,” you argue, running your hand over his cheek. “This gallery opening may feature others' work too, but you are the star of the exhibit,” you reassure, tilting his forehead down so it rests upon yours.
There it is again. That look that always floors you. Even now, a year later. Like you are the most wondrous creature, and he can scarcely believe you are his.
“Never forget, you will always be first to me,” you utter fiercely, watching his eyes soften with devotion. “And not just me….” you guide his sizeable warm hand onto the swell of your belly, “to us. We love you so much, Benedict,” your tone is ardent, wanting him to believe he deserves this recognition, that he should believe in himself the way that you do.
“I love you, too,” he responds quietly, reverentially. “So very much. Both of you are my whole world,” his voice choked with emotion, and you throw your arms around him and squeeze hard, wanting to telegraph just how much he is the very centre of your universe.
An hour later, you clutch your hands over your chest as you watch him being brought onto the raised stage and introduced to the crowd as they applaud him and his work rapturously, awaiting to hear him talk of his art. As he does so, you stroke your belly unseen under your cloak, beaming with pride for your wonderful husband.
____
He sees your face in the crowd, and as ever, it calms him, especially at this landmark moment. So as he finishes the speech that he has rehearsed for days now, he decides to do something perhaps unconventional but something he seems unable to resist.
“Lastly, before I allow you back to your champagne,” he jests, finally at ease with the attention and recognition. “I want to thank my life’s inspiration, the very reason I stand before you today. My wonderful wife. Thank you, my love, for being the light of my life; for always making this second son your first choice. You will always, always be my first choice. I love you.” 
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Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @mlovesbridgerton @m-rae23 @last-sheep
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diedoverahat · 4 months
Text
A Small Favor.
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part one!
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pairing: mike schmidt x afab!reader
summary: the stress of his new job is taking a toll on mike. he did such a good job helping you out, so you decide to repay the favor.
word count: 2.5k+
warnings: 18+! MDNI! oral sex (m!receiving), vaginal fingering, handjobs, heavy on the praise, munch!mike always.
authors note: the heavily heavily HEAVILY requested part two is finally done. (quite literally wrote this instead of listening to my bio lecture) i still can't believe that fic has gotten so much traction, i hope this one measures up! it got waaaay more angsty near the end than i thought it would hehe also i decided to include everyone commenting under part one requesting part two in the taglist of this fic so you're welcome lol mwah <3
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It had been one week and three days since the couch incident, which is what you’ve lovingly taken to calling whatever happened between you and Mike. One week and three whole days of Mike dancing around you and the elephant in the room.
The morning after the couch incident he practically ran out the door taking Abby to school when you tried to bring it up. The next time you attempted to have “the talk” he stuttered out an excuse before retreating to the safety of his bedroom, so you gave up.
You know that there’s something between Mike and you that crosses the line of just friends, you both felt something change that night, but getting him to face his feelings and actually admit that will take work.
It's another night of sitting on Mike's couch mulling over what to do about the whole situation when you hear the front door open. You're shocked at first, usually you're asleep by the time Mike gets home. Sure enough when you check the clock it reads 6:33 in bulky red characters. Apparently, time flies when you're obsessing over how to get your friend turned complicated-accidental-one-night-stand to admit they have feelings for you.
You try (and fail) not to listen in on every move Mike makes in the kitchen, fighting to keeping your gaze trained on the TV as he makes his way to the living room.
In your eyes peripheral vision you see him begin to make his way to the couch, but he hesitates when his eyes fall on you. He awkwardly hovers between the two rooms for a few seconds until he takes a breath and walks over to the couch.
Mike sits next to you on the couch with a soft grunt. You wrestle with the need to look at him fully, but you can see out of the corner of your eye he's taken off his work boots and vest. His hair is sticking out at weird angles, curls frizzy and unruly. Your hand twitches against your thigh with the want to run your fingers through them.
You can feel your heart beat faster, struggling to sit still in the thick tension surrounding the two of you. You flick your eyes back to the TV in a vain attempt to focus on anything other than Mike.
Eventually, you lose the fight with your screaming inner monologue and chance a sideways glace in his direction. You're beyond surprised to find him already looking at you.
You stare back, a deer caught in headlights. The dim light coming from the TV highlights his eyes. Mike opens his mouth to seemingly break the silence but he stops himself short of actually speaking. You can see him fiddling nervously with the hem of his shirt.
It’s silent for a beat before you decide to speak up.
“Hi.” You say, it's a whisper but you might have well just yelled with how it cuts into the air between the two of you. Mike lets out what might be laugh, it sounds forced. "Hi." He replies stiffly.
"Home later than usual." You point out, fidgeting with your nail. Mike's home a little after 6: everyday, him being home 30 minutes late is odd.
Mike nods, he lets his head fall onto the back of the couch allowing his eyes to slip closed as he does. "Yeah," He replies, the position of his head allows you to get your greedy fill of his sharp jawline. "Jobs been hell."
You don't respond, but you know. Mike's been haggard recently, and not just because of the couch incident. The bags under his eyes have gotten worse, he's been forgetful, not to mention how much more neurotic and paranoid he's been.
Mike has been a wreck these past couple of days, and you want nothing more than to help him feel good. If not for just a few minutes.
You take a chance, and move to let your hand rest over his jean clad thigh. Mike tenses up immediately but doesn’t move to run or push your hand off.
"I could help you,” You say quietly, forcing yourself to keep eye contact. Mike's wide eyes flit rapidly between your eyes and lips. “Help you relax…” You trail off, voice barely above a whisper.
Your offer hangs heavy in the silence that settles. Mike just stares at you, after a while you start to regret making such a bold move. There’s an apology’s on the tip of your tongue, but when you start taking your hand off Mikes thigh he quickly grabs your wrist.
Your eyes snap back up to meet Mikes. His pupils are blown out, black encompassing warm brown. His tongue comes out to swipe across his bottom lip.
“You can...” Mike says simply, guiding your hand back to his thigh. Only he places it much higher up, high enough that you can feel the rough metal of his zipper brushing against the tip of your pinkie. "I need it." He breathes out desperately, eyes big and pleading. You allow yourself a second to just watch Mikes face before you start to move with a purpose.
You snake your hand lower, finding the already hard length of his cock through the rough material of his jeans. Mirroring what he did to you those ten days ago, you start to grind the heel of your hand against him.
Mike shudders, eyes fluttering shut at your touch. You can physically see tension slowly exit his body, leaving him slack and relaxed enough to sink deeper into the couch cushions.
The sight of him at ease and comfortable lights a fire in you. You feel a deep primal need to care for him, to make him feel good.
Patience wearing thin, you reach for the button of his jeans. Even in your arousal induced haste, you take a beat to appreciate the swell of Mike's cock pressing up against the denim. If this was any other time, you'd want to draw it out. To tease Mike until he can't take it anymore, but now is not any other time.
You pop the button to Mike's jeans, dragging the zipper down swiftly and pulling the flaps of his jeans open to frame his lewdly tented boxers. You can hear Mikes breath hitch, unable to keep from squirming under your intense gaze. The thin material leaves nothing to the imagination, the length and girth of him on display. There's a growing wet patch near the tip that's turned the light blue fabric dark and slick. An ache starts deep in your core, anticipation making you feel warm all over.
Slowly, you tug his boxers down enough for his cock to spring free and smack up against his stomach. "Ah! Shit," He hisses, hands balling up into fists by his sides.
Mike's dick is perfect. A nice length and girth you know will have your jaw aching in the best way later. The tip a soft pink color, and steadily leaking a stream of pre-come.
"I want to blow you," You say softly, getting close to Mike so your lips brush over his ear with every word. He shivers, mouth dropping open in a quiet moan. "Will you let me?"
Mike nods his head frantically. "Please," He pants, chest rising and falling quickly. "Please, I want it."
His begging is music to your ears.
You slide off the couch, kneeling between Mike's spread thighs. His straining cock makes your mouth water in anticipation. Holding the base in your hand, you lean forward to lick a board stripe from root to tip. Moaning at the heady taste and velvety feel of him on your tongue.
"God." Mike groans at the feel of your tongue.
You pull off with a slick pop, breaking a small thread of saliva trailing from the head of Mike's dick to your lips with your tongue. You lave over the tip, looking up to find Mike staring at you flushed and dark-eyed. You keep the eye contact as you sink back down, beginning to build up a rhythm.
Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Mike raise his hands before hesitating, and dropping them back down to the couch cushion. You can tell he wants to touch you, but he’s unsure of himself. You take his hands in yours, and place them on the top of your head.
At first he just sort of holds your head, overthinking what to do even with your permission. You’d laugh if you weren’t so busy preening over the feel of his unfairly big hands holding your head delicately, like he might break you.
“Fuck, your mouth…” Mike whispers, his words trailing off as he watches your lips work over his throbbing cock. His confidence grows, finally allowing himself to run his fingers through your hair and gather it in a loose fistful. Your moan of encouragement has him tightening his grip just a touch.
“Jesus,” Mike breathes quietly, you give him a lick underneath the head of his cock in response. "Fuck. Feels so good.”
You hum in response, working Mike's cock faster to draw out more of those whimpers that he can't hold in. Hollowing your cheeks and sinking down towards the circle of your fist still holding the base of his cock with wet, slick slurping sounds.
Mike's noises have gotten progressively louder by the second, you can feel his pulse beating wildly against your tongue through the vein running up his cock. You know he's close, and you're desperate to make him come.
You give him one long languid suck, swirling your tongue over the head as you pull off. His cock is slick with your spit, pulsing warningly. You use the wetness of your saliva as a makeshift lube to start stroking over him slowly.
"How's it feel, Mike?" You purr sensually,
When you sink back down, you don't break eye contact. Mike's eyes roll back into his head, the way his lips part on a sharp gasp, how his back arches off the couch, how his fist tightens even more around your hair.
Above you, Mike grunts, "Oh fuck, baby," His back arches, a rough gasp torn from his throat. The hand in your hair tugs sharply as he chokes out, "Gonna come, shit, gonna fucking come."
Mike shouts hoarsely, hips stuttering as he starts to come. His cock gives one final twitch in your mouth before he pumps load after load of warm come into your mouth. You moan loudly at the taste of his release coating your taste buds, swallowing what pools on your tongue routinely.
You continue to work your mouth over his cock, bringing Mike through the aftershocks of his orgasm, reveling in the broken sounds he keeps making. You lave your tongue over him savoring the taste of him, until he's tugging at your hair to pull you off his sensitive cock.
"C'mere, c'mere." He whines desperately. You’ve barely come up for air before Mike is bodily dragging you into his lap and kissing you like he needs it more than air.
His hand darts down your body and into your sweats. Mike moans in your mouth at the feel of your lacy panties absolutely soaked with your arousal. He wastes no time in finding your clit, rubbing tight circles over it with his thumb drawing a loud moan from your lips.
"Shit," You exclaim, nails digging into Mike's forearm. Your hips buck up into his touch, chasing his touch. "Mike..." You whine, needing him to do more.
"You drive me fucking crazy," He whispers roughly against the side of your face, sliding his pointer finger through the slick wetness of your folds. "I can't stop thinking about you."
“Oh god, Mike.” His fingers feel amazing, rubbing you in all the right places, his words lighting a fire in your stomach.
Mike gathers your wetness before pushing his thick middle finger in your tight heat. Your own moan gets drowned out by his guttural groan at the feeling of you clenching down on his finger.
“Fuck, you’re so wet.” He moans, thrusting his finger in and out of your aching pussy slowly. "You're so perfect, so perfect for me." Mikes lips trail kisses down your jaw as he adds a second finger into your dripping pussy, brushing against the spot inside you that sends white hot sparks of pleasure zinging up your spine.
"How's that feel?" He asks roughly, throwing your earlier teasing back in your face. You moan wantonly, hips moving grinding down as you ride his fingers in earnest.
Mike angles his hand in a way that lets his fingers thrust into you, hitting your g-spot all while the palm of his hand grinds into your clit
“I’m gonna come, Mike,” You whine desperately, hips stuttering as you tip over the edge. “I’m coming.”
"Yes, come for me." Mike whispers, lips brushing over your cheek.
Your chest heaves as you come down from your orgasm, collapsing against Mikes chest. You're an absolute mess, thighs shaking and sweat dripping down your back. A hiss escapes your mouth as Mike eases his fingers out of your twitching pussy. "Sorry." He whispers softly, kissing the top of your head tenderly.
You allow yourself to lay on his chest with his strong arms around your waist, keeping you close. So close you can feel his warm breath puffing out against your neck.
You don't want to let it, but reality sets in. "Are you gonna run away in the morning?" Your voice is so quiet you don't know if Mike even heard, and you can't force yourself to look up at him.
It takes him a second to register your words, you don't have to look at him to know he's wincing. "I," Mike starts, trying to find the right words. "I don't know." He admits, lips brushing against your hair.
The anger mixed with shame and embarrassment is quick to come, you scoff pushing off Mike's chest so you can go home. "Of course." You spit bitterly.
"Wait!" He rushes out, arms tightening on your waist to stop you leaving.
"What?" You bite out bitterly, whipping your head around to stare daggers at Mike. It backfires on you almost immediately, forcing you to stare into his big sad dumb eyes. He falters, mouth opening and closing as he fumbles to say anything.
You can't help that the look in his eyes tames your anger ever so slightly. The way he's silently pleading with you to stay, his brows drawn in concern and lips pulled down in a frown. Your steely resolve crumbles pathetically.
"What?" You repeat quietly. Mike flounders for a second more, before he finally gives in. "Please stay." He exhales softly, hands planting themselves on your hips, giving them a light squeeze..
Maybe it's your shitty resolve, maybe it's the post orgasm afterglow clouding your judgement, maybe it's the earnest look in Mike's eyes that keeps you from pushing out of his grip and out the door, but you just can't bring yourself to leave.
You stare back at him wrestling with your thoughts, but it's a losing game and you know that.
"Okay," You whisper slowly, settling yourself back down into his lap. "I'll stay."
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i could NOT figure out how to end this, but maybe i could do a part three? would literally anyone want that?
taglist!
@ebodebo @yuenity @mfdxz @mikeschmidtgf @lee-inthebox @sunny-deary @ncqari
extra taglist!
@ballorawan740 @slasherluvrrr @importantgalaxyrunaway @iwantsleepplz @theaterhoefornewsies
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angelshimaa · 5 months
Text
━━ 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐅𝐓 ;; 𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐆𝐎𝐔 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈
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✧ cw :: gn!reader, angsty (heh), there is arguing and yelling here, reader is called 'clingy'
✧ a/n :: fun fact, this started out as a kirishima piece, but the dialogue said 'bakugou' so i changed it :D haven't written arguments before methinks, but i hope this is good !!
part 2 !
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you knew how abrasive of a person he was, but you'd never felt it for yourself. every sentence felt like the sting of scraping your skin, and he just wouldn't stop.
the person standing in front of you looks like him. the same eyes, the same blond hair, the same voice that once never said anything to you with such poisonous intent.
but the bitterness in his words? the volume in them— a volume you dared to match with your own voice— it wasn't the loudness you knew.
and, as katsuki goes on and on, you wonder when the last time was that you could claim to know him.
you fall silent, eyes glassy and you stare. he notices the shift in the air, the shift in your face, and he snaps out of it.
"what are we doing here, katsuki?"
it's barely above a whisper and you're thankful your voice remains steady. you hope he can see how the hurt looks, draped across your face, and you wonder if he can feel it too.
"the hell do you mean, y/n?"
"what are we doing here, katsuki? how much more are we going to yell at each other like this? half the time i— i don't even remember why we're arguing. do you enjoy it?"
katsuki's face is unreadable. "enjoy it? you think i enjoy being like this? that i want to come home to endless problems, that i want to have every little thing psychoanalysed because you just can't leave me alone?"
it's a red-hot slap across the face, but not one hard enough to render you speechless.
"coming home? you want to talk about coming home, when you're never here? you're never here, katsuki!"
you clap your hands with each word of the last sentence, and it only escalates the situation.
his eyebrows are permanently creased and he scowls— it's ugly and malicious. you've never known him to be so ugly. "it's no wonder when you act like this all the damn time! always yapping away with your clingy ass— home isn't home when i know i have this to come back to," he gestures at you.
silence stabs, but it doesn't compare to the sharp, dagger-shaped words you've hurled at each other. you feel cemented to the floor with how heavy your body seems, and all you can do is look at him.
"i see."
in that moment, it becomes apparent to you just how close the end of everything is. the lump in your throat is as heavy as you feel, and as much of an invader as you are to his home and his peace, apparently.
there isn't much else to be said.
when you try to swallow the ache in your throat, and make to move to the door, katsuki understands just how harshly he's stomped on your heart. he watches you through glasses of fading anger, and as red becomes normal he understands the gravity of it all.
"i— i've overstayed my welcome, it seems. i'll go." you throw over your shoulder as you leave.
"enjoy your home, bakugou."
you don't slam the door— but he wishes you had. he wishes there was rage in how you left— rage was what he could deal with. instead, he hears the soft click of the door— he hears the hopelessness and the surrender in your departure— and along with it, the end of your relationship.
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✧ — thank you for reading !! rbs and feedback are greatly appreciated &lt;3
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moonstruckme · 1 month
Note
I really hope you mean here 🤭
Request: "Remus is being rude to the reader due to the upcoming full moon.. make it as angsty as you can"
Thanks for requesting babe <3
cw: migraine, Rem is mean :(
Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words
When you come home from work, the apartment is dark and there’s evidence of Remus’ shit day everywhere. 
The curtains are drawn closed against the sunlight, and there’s a discarded blanket on the couch and several snack containers half-emptied on the coffee table. One of them has tipped onto the floor, a mess of crisps your boyfriend was likely feeling too unwell to tidy. He’s spilled tea on the table, too. These kinds of things are more common in the days before the full moon, but you think he must really be having a rough one. Even a few unwashed dishes in the sink is usually enough to stress Remus out, so he has to have been in a state to leave things like this. 
You brew a fresh cup of tea, grabbing some chocolates from the cabinet in case he didn’t bring any with him, and broach the bedroom. A shape moves under the sheets when the door creaks open. 
“Hi,” you say softly. You kneel by the bed, lightly touching the ends of Remus’ hair. “How are you, love?” 
“Bad,” he mutters from beneath the covers. You wince. He must be, if he won’t even lower the sheets beneath his eyes. 
You do your best to keep the pity from your voice, knowing he’d hate it. “I brought you some tea,” you murmur, “if you want it.”
“Can’t right now.” 
“It’s chamomile,” you coax. “It might help—”
“I can’t.” The low rumble of his voice takes on a hard edge, and you fall instantly silent. You nod even though he can’t see it, setting the tea and chocolate on his nightstand as quietly as you can. 
You don’t tell him you’re going, sure every footstep is agonizingly loud for him. You force down the lump in your throat. Remus is miserable right now; he’s not thinking about how his tone affects you, and that’s not his fault. He doesn’t mean anything by it. You can deal with it, help anyways.
You sweep instead of vacuuming, gathering the little bits of crisps into a dustpan and dumping them in the trash. The half-eaten snacks get reshelved in your cabinets, the puddle of tea cleaned off the coffee table, and candles lit to banish the stale smell in the living room. The cinnamon ones are usually Remus’ favorite, but you trade them out for lavender on the off chance it helps with his headache. You’re washing dishes one at a time so they don’t clatter when the bedroom door creaks open. 
“Hey,” you say, relieved. “Feeling better?” 
“No.” Remus’ voice is low, and the scratch of it tears at your heartstrings. He trudges to the end of the hall, where he stops, rubbing his forehead with his thumb and forefinger. “I need you to be quiet.” 
“Oh, sorry.” You soften your voice, freezing with your hands submerged in the warm dishwater. “I’ve been trying, I didn’t realize you could hear. I’m almost done with this, so—” 
“Could you stop?” he asks, tone going harsh again. “Just, be quiet or find somewhere else to be, please. I can’t deal with this.” 
You swallow against the intrusion in your throat. Will away the heat from your face. “Okay,” you say, the word barely a whisper. 
Remus turns, plodding back to the bedroom. You hear the door shut.
You leave the dishwater to get cold rather than pouring it out and making more noise. You sit down on the couch with a book, eyes skimming over the words as you convince yourself over and over that it’d be stupid to cry about this. Your face heats, then cools. Tears blur your vision and you blink them away. This is ridiculous. Remus is just moody, he didn’t mean it. You know better than to take anything he says to heart right now. You can’t expect your efforts to be properly appreciated, but the important part is to keep making them. When he’s feeling better, he’ll thank you in a million sweet ways, because that’s who he is. He loves you. He didn’t mean it. 
It’s dark outside when the bedroom door creaks open again. You hadn’t noticed night falling, even when the light became too dim for you to make out the words on your page. You set your book down; you hadn’t been reading anyway. 
Remus sits next to you without a word. He leans the side of his head against the cushion with a sigh. 
“Dove?” he murmurs. 
You don’t dare do more than hum in response. 
A scarred hand finds your leg, the thumb sweeping back and forth over your skin. “I’m sorry for snapping at you,” he says quietly. “That was…it was really mean. And undeserved.”
“I’m sorry I was being loud,” you reply, and you can’t help it, your throat clogs all over again. “I was just trying to help.” 
Your voice catches on the last word, and Remus makes a pained sound that has you silencing yourself instantly. He makes another at your response. 
“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” he rasps. “Do you want a hug?” 
You bite down on your lower lip. “Are you okay to hug?” 
“Yeah, sweetheart.” 
He meets you in the middle, pressing upon your shoulder blades like he can hold you together by sheer physical force. You try for his sake, swallowing the cries that rise in your throat. 
“I’m sorry,” he says again, palm marking a slow path up and down your back. “You weren’t too loud, I’m just fussy. You were only being your kind self. I had no reason to be so horrid.” 
“You weren’t horrid,” you warble. “I know you’re having a hard time.” 
“That’s no excuse.” His palm makes its way back to your shoulders just in time to feel the first little sob escape you. Remus’ grip tightens. “Aw, dovey. I’m so, so sorry. I can’t believe I spoke to you like that.” 
“It’s okay.” 
“It’s not,” he murmurs, kissing the exposed bit of skin where your shirt is slipping down your shoulder. “It’s not, and—” He pauses, looking around the room for the first time. “Did you clean?” 
You nod against his front, feeling the pained sigh that leaves him. 
“Fuck, I’m awful.” 
“You’re not.” 
“You were cleaning up my mess, and I yelled at you.” Now Remus’ voice sounds a tad raw too. He gathers you closer, stubble scratching your forehead as he kisses your hairline. “My sweet girl. You should have ripped me a new one.” 
“You weren’t yelling,” you point out, teasing a bit now, “and anyway, it seemed like you were already being ripped a new one.” 
“Still,” he mumbles into your hair. “You lit the lavender candles and everything. You deserve to put me through hell.” 
“You’re already going through hell,” you remind him gently, brushing a kiss against his cheek. “I don’t need to help the process along. Do you want some tea, love?” 
Remus hums. “I do, but let me get it. Let me get some for you, too, yeah?” He leans back to look down at you. “You want some nighttime tea, darling?” 
You’re alright really, but you tell him you do anyway. He looks nearly happy as he drags himself into the kitchen, and he won’t stop mollycoddling you for the rest of the night. 
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callsign-bambi · 6 months
Text
things you say that make them melt <3
feat. keegan p. russ, john “soap” mactavish, alejandro vargas, simon “ghost” riley, konig
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word count: 1.9k, (each one is 300-500 words)
warnings: none. this is mostly fluff (keegan’s is a bit more angsty). fem reader in soap’s. gn reader in keegan’s, alejandro’s, ghost’s, and konig’s.
a/n: i am a lovesick fool.
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—keegan p. russ
You and Keegan were a casual arrangement. He’d come home from deployment and you’d welcome him with open arms, help him relieve his stress, and that’s all it was. Until it wasn’t. It was late, the rhythmic chirp of the crickets outside felt nearly oppressive as you glimpsed out at the darkened sky. It was protocol, he never slept over, never stayed longer than necessary. The dismissal always stung, but you knew he kept himself guarded for a reason. He never spoke of what he did in detail, but you knew it wasn’t something to be asked about. He was getting ready to leave after one of these meetings, lacing his boots at your front door. You lean against the wall, watching him as a palpable silence hangs between you. Usually there’s few words exchanged in his departure, an unspoken rule. One that you’re disregarding this time. “One day, I’d like to make you breakfast.” Your voice was so quiet Keegan nearly convinced himself he imagined it, until he looked up and saw the brightness in your eyes. He ignores the quickening of his heart as he resists the urge to reach out to you, hold you close and apologize. But he doesn’t say anything as he finishes tying his boots. Despite the weight in his chest, he doesn’t look up at you again, can’t bring himself to come face to face with the underlying hurt he knows he caused. You deserve better: someone who can commit to you, won’t be gone for months on end, someone who will be here for longer. You deserved someone better than him. He left that night, the same as he always did. With a heavy heart full of unspoken shame.
—john “soap” mactavish
John typically wasn’t one to get flustered easily. His job required him to keep a level head and not let his emotions override his reason. But when it comes to you, he swears he could lose his mind. You were always so sweet and easygoing with him. You forgave him for when he let his stress bite you, and understood the importance of his work. Truth be told, he often worried if he was doing enough for you, scared that one day you’d realize his shortcomings and pack up. He was lost in a bout of these thoughts when he felt a set of eyes on him. He looked up from the car hood he was bent over and saw you standing in the doorway of the garage, shoulder leaning the frame with a small smile on your lips. He grins back at you, wiping his hands on a rag as he let his hips recline against the jacked car. He motioned for you with a wave of his hand, “C’mere, lass.” When you’re only a few steps away, he reaches out and lets his palm meet your waist, pulling you to stand between his legs. His other hand is on your hip, the pad of his thumb brushing over your pant line. He tilts his head slightly to look at you better, his perceptive eyes taking you in. “What’s on yer mind, pretty?” You bring your hands to his shoulders, thumbs tenderly massaging the skin above the hem of his shirt. “If I could, I’d stop time just to stare at you all day… I’d keep you here with me, where we’re safe, and you can work on your cars all day long..” John’s heart skipped a beat as he sucked in a silent breath. He licked his lips as he searched your eyes. “I would love nothing more than that, bonnie..” “But you can’t, I know.” You complete his thoughts with a quiet voice, and it tugs at his heartstrings. “I love you, y/n. I hope you know that.” You nod, “I do, and I love you too.” The palm of your hand is soft against the stubble on his jaw. Gods, he loved you. He knew without a doubt he’d do anything for you, whatever is takes to see you smile and keep you safe. You were his sweet girl. He holds your wrist gently, bringing his lips to kiss the palm of your hand. “One day I’ll come home t’ stay, I promise. Then ye can sit and stare at me with those pretty eyes all you want.”
—alejandro vargas
The ranch was Alejandro’s sanctuary. It was quiet, serene, and had you. Neither of you said it (mainly because you never needed to), but the moments shared at the ranch were your favorites. Like tonight. It was tranquil, as if you both inherited a piece of land in a promised paradise. The sky was clear and the promise of morning rain hung in the air, but for now you were both content to lay in the hammock strung in the backyard. Alejandro was beneath you, your head on his chest as you listened to the steady pulse of his heartbeat. His hands were warm on the small of your back, his fingers tracing mindless shapes over the blanket you wrapped yourself in. You could feel yourself slowly drifting off, your blinks becoming longer and longer. Alejandro noticed too. “Mi amor, should we go inside?” You shook your head with a small hum, intent on enjoying this moment for as long as possible. “Just a little longer.” You feel his chest rumble softly as he chuckles, “Okay, just a little longer.” You let out a quiet breath, the sounds of the crickets and cicadas making you smile, content. “Can you tell me about your day?” You hear the man sigh as he presses a kiss to the crown of your head. He begins to talk about how his morning started with Rudy spilling a coffee on himself, and how some of his men were already looking forward to the next dinner at the ranch, how they all hope you’re doing well and not taking on more than you can handle. You let your eyelids close as Alejandro speaks, the smooth octave of his voice lulling you into a peaceful fulfillment. You can hear the smile in his voice when he takes note of your relaxed state. His voice is now a whisper, “Am I boring you, mi amor?” You nuzzle into the crook of his neck with a smile and shake of your head, “Please keep talking. I love the sound of your voice.” Alejandro takes a breath before he wraps his toned arms around you, holding you even closer. He plants a tender kiss to your temple. No further words were exchanged as he holds you close under the blanket of stars. To have you in his arms, in the place he loves most, was enough for him to know he’d do whatever it takes to keep his small slice of heaven safe.
—simon “ghost” riley
Simon Riley is a man of few words, and Ghost is one of even fewer. He was the type to convey by actions rather than words. The sentiment of acts of service felt, to him, a more genuine and conscious display of his appreciation for you. He’d never say it, but he feels a tug in his chest when he begins to notice the things you do for him too. They’re quiet things, small tokens of affection to make his life easier. Like cooking a meal for him, mending the small tears in his uniforms, listening to him intently when he talks about his day (the few words he’ll share), and always respecting his boundaries when he doesn’t share certain aspects of his time away. Your tender devotion and trust never failed to make his heart swell. He had just returned to base after a short return home, and already he was missing your soft touch in his life. He was sat on his bunk, his large duffel bag partially unpacked as he held the small piece of paper between his index fingers and thumbs. The edges were slightly crinkled and his thumb gently smooth out the imperfections as his eyes read and reread your handwriting. ‘thinking of you’ with a small, slanted heart at the end. His eyes flick to his lap where a little 3x5 photo had fallen. He took a breath as he lifted it. It was of you and him. His face was obscured as he was caught mid-turn. But you, your face was lit up with a smile, the corner of your eyes crinkling as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He smiles with a gentle fondness as he reminisces the origin of the photo. You both were visiting your family, a small gathering to help plan your sister’s wedding. Originally, he hadn’t wanted to go, but now he’s grateful you had asked him. If he remembers correctly, your mother was the one who had taken it. It was late and neither of you thought anyone else was in the kitchen. Some old country song was playing softly on the radio and you had wanted to dance. Now, Simon was not a dancer, much less a good one. But that didn’t stop him from swaying softly with you, side to side. He can’t remember exactly what he had whispered to you, probably something cheesy, but it was enough to make you laugh. And that’s when you heard the faint ‘click’ of the shutter. And now, he has the precious moment immortalized in his hands. He holds the photo and small letter together. ‘thinking of you.’ He smiles with a small shake of his head. He couldn’t say he was thinking of you too. How could he think of something that never leaves his mind?
—konig
Konig is a big guy, like scary big. And his disposition doesn’t make him any less intimidating. He can be upfront and rather crass, a defense mechanism from his stubborn anxiety. Because of this, few people hang around him, feeling as if the towering operator was always on edge. It didn’t bother Konig too much, he was used to it at least. But then he met you. And for some reason, one he still hasn’t deciphered, you never seemed to harbor any nervousness or trepidation when it came to him (at least from what he could tell), and it put him even on more edge when he was around you. Not that you seemed to noticed. You were with him in the hangar, running through inventory with him as your superior. A simple job, grunt work even. Konig was fidgety, anxious to finish this tedious task and retreat back to his quarters, away from you and your sweet voice and far too close proximity. He must’ve been quiet for too long, or missed a question you had asked, because when he glances at you, you’re already looking at him. He clears his throat, “Sorry, what did you say?” You shake your head to indicate you had, in fact, not said anything and he mentally kicked himself for the now palpable awkwardness. This is what he hated, this air of uncertainty, the reminder of his incapability of holding a simple conversation. He felt foolish and flexed his hands to ease his nerves (frustration). Then, he did hear your voice. “You have the most beautiful eyes, sir.” Instantly, your words pulled him out of his own thoughts, as if all his self doubt and irritation were simply wiped from his mind. He looks down at you, blinking from behind his sniper hood, undoubtedly thankful for its concealment. He opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again, but failed to produce any words. It didn’t matter, though, because you were already walking up to the next crate of assorted radio comms, penciling in spaces on your clipboard as you left him flustered and grasping for words.
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qwimchii · 6 months
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hi qwim! i was thinking, i always see ghost fics where he isnt used to physical touch or being taken care of, but what if it was the other way around... could you write ghost with an s/o that doesnt know how to react to him taking care of her? also, to be a bit more specific, could it be pretty angsty but hurt/comfort? thank you darling!!
𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦 — 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘙𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺
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𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘹 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘵!𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳
𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 — 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘢 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘢𝘭, 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘻𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯𝘱𝘰𝘶𝘳, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘺𝘱𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘢 <3 𝘸𝘤 — 2.6k
𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 — 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵
𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴/𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 — 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱, 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱, 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘹𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘵𝘺, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘦𝘹𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘱𝘦𝘵 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘤𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴, 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵/𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵?? 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 ><
note: thank you for the request!! i had fun writing thissss :)
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you had been trudged through the muddy sludge for two hours. with a clenched jaw, wind lashing at your face, every step felt like a brief battle against the lacerating rain that drenched you to the bone.
“rendezvous point 0.8 klicks away,” Ghost shouted over the roaring wind, looking just as downtrodden and soaked as you. the rain almost swept his words away, but you clutched onto them for dear life as you gave him a curt nod, unsure if he could even see it through the downpour that blurred your vision.
it was loud. everything was loud as you just continued to trudge. every step. a silent battle.
a silent battle, you reminded yourself, stifling a yelp when you knee buckled beneath you. knee plunging into the mud, you heaved yourself back up with a practiced mechanic stiffness. but when you didn’t move, not even a morsel, a quiet panic brewed in your throat.
“the fuck’s goin’ on sergeant?” Ghost shouted, exasperated when he noticed you a good few strides away from him now. a dangerous distance in such low level lighting—you could barely make out the outline of his body through the downpour.
a slither of relief ran down your spine when the gleam of his white mask grew bigger in the distance, like its own ghostly bobbing head. then, the rest of his drenched navy uniform materialized beneath the floating head.
“can’t move,” you rasped, voice weak no matter how hard you tried to force it through your lungs. to make it sound stronger. it was only defeated under the torrent of the wind.
whether he could hear you or not you couldn’t tell, because he was hooking a strong arm beneath you and hoisting you like you from the mud like you were nothing.
“save your strength,” you gritted out into his ear, teeth chattering as shivers wracked you. but he didn’t let go, instead strung you up over his shoulders so his arm was hooked around the back of your knees. on reflex, you looped beneath his opposite arm, latching yourself onto him as he continued through the mud—exactly like how you’d been trained to do.
you almost worried you didn’t have the strength to hold on, though you spurred a vicious iron chant in your mind.
every step. silent battle.
sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t, and right now it wasn’t proving to be effective because your teeth were chattering so hard that your ears were beginning to ache. you fought against the droop of your eyelids with a passion, half-afraid of the training that had been ingrained into you.
don’t fall asleep because you’re really fuckin’ cold, your commanding officer had said, you may never wake up.
though the longer you fought, and the longer Ghost walked, the longer your resolve waned.
“sleepy,” you almost cried into his ear, hoping it was enough to get your message across. from the way Ghost stiffened beneath you, you thought it may have landed a blow.
he suddenly turned heel and changed trajectory from the rendezvous point, head on a swivel as the both of you disappeared between a thicket of bushes, away from the muddy river bank you had been tracking along.
“Ghost—” you wanted to scold him for straying from the mission, but the chatter of your teeth cleaved through your sentence.
you felt his hand tighten on the back of your knee, fingertips digging into the pants of your uniform.
“don’t you dare fuckin’ sleep on me,” he barked, loud enough for you to hear over the torrential downpour and violent wind that swayed his body from side to side. with a low curse, he fought it, steadying on between another thicket of trees.
the further you both strayed from the river bank, the more a fit of anxiety tightened in your stomach. how would you find your way back? the rendezvous point was less than a klick away and you were dragging Ghost down like this.
you cursed. you were dragging him down.
“awake?” he shouted, almost directly into your ear, and you mumbled a weak yes, watching a big, gray form looming through the mist.
a cliff, you realized once you reached it as Ghost edged along the jagged rock. following along its surface, you saw a small and dark opening between two low rocks and you tugged on his shirt.
immediately, he ducked down, sliding you off his shoulder and carefully placing you down on your feet. your toes touched the muddy ground, and when your heels made contact in the wet sludge, your knees buckled with the slightest pressure.
Ghost heaved you up, an arm tight around your waist as he pulled you through the mouth of the cave, squeezing between rocks to reach its drier insides. with a low noise of impatience, he hooked his arm beneath your knees and carried you further into the dark cave.
without the roaring rush of rain and the battering winds, your ears ached from the deafening silence of the cave, sealed off from most of external weather. the glare of the storm seeped into the space, but with every step Ghost took from the entrance, it dipped you further into pitched darkness.
when it was so dark you couldn’t see a thing, only hear his low breaths by your ear and the way your teeth clacked with shivers, he set you down on the ground.
you shivered against a rock, drenched to the bone and eyes searching the quiet darkness for signs of danger before a flicker of light caught your attention.
then, it exploded with a hiss, the red glare of the flare spilling over Ghost’s mask and the tight surrounding cave. your surroundings suddenly revealed to you, nothing but sheer rock and dirt around and beneath you, you let yourself lax back into the rock, eyelids drooping, then finally shutting.
“quit,” Ghost grunted, gripping your jaw so your eyes fluttered open, looking up to see his face just mere inches from your own.
then, he leaned back and unclasped the ivory outer layer and peeled off his balaclava, wrenching it free of water and ruffling a hand through his wet hair. you had seen Ghost’s face before—in so much more detail than the low lighting of this space, his brown eyes flickering red from the flare, but it was a comfort to actually see him nonetheless.
you startled when he began unclasping his vest too, fumbling with buckles to throw that down on the cave floor. hooking his fingers beneath his windbreaker, he tugged that over his head, pulling off his under armor shirt with it. the bare muscles of his torso clenched with the movements, and you stared at him, eyes half-lidded.
“what are you doing?” you rasped, stiffening when he started fidgeting with your vest too.
“tryin’ to get you warm,” he gritted out, and with all your strength, you pushed his hands away.
“m’fine,” you insisted, a cold twist in your stomach leaving you nauseous.
“oi,” he said, gripping your chin to look at him, “don’t be doin’ this again.”
you scowled at him. “do what again?”
“m’gonna take care ‘a you, alright?”
he reached around the back of your vest and unclasped it, pulling you into his chest and tugging it off despite your low protests.
“stop,” you commanded, though it came out weak when his fingers came to the hem of your pullover.
you were satisfied when he complied with your command, but you couldn’t say the same when he pressed his face to the crook of your neck, cold but solid against you. 
“c’mon, baby.”
the sweet word made you screw your eyes shut. when he stayed there, pressed right against you, you snuck a hand up to the back of his head, smoothing over the buzz on the back of his neck.
the feeling wasn’t unfamiliar to you—long nights when your lieutenant didn’t sleep and you didn’t either. long nights when he curled up in your bed, not uttering a word as you wrapped your arms around him, sleepy and warm and strong beneath your sheets. it felt right holding him flush to you at night.
it felt stranger in the day. at work. it felt stranger when it was the other way around, his arms around you, clutching you tight to him.
“m’fine,” you whispered, spidering a finger down his wet, bare back. his skin was freezing to the touch.
“c’mon baby,” he repeated, softer this time as his cold lips turned to rest against your temple. 
you rubbed a hand over his skin, willing it to warm. when it didn’t, a panic rose in you, and you leaned back to let him tug your clothes up your torso and off your head. clad in nothing but a bra, you felt so much colder in the damp, chilly cave air, shivers and shakes wracking you. you watched him twist the water from your clothes, amazed at how he didn’t even shiver, as still and strong as always, though you noticed the slight shake in his hands as he put down your clothes.
“cold,” you admitted, biting down to keep the clatters from wracking your teeth.
“i know,” he said, rough and throaty as he slid over to you and unbuckled your belt, tugging you free of your pants. 
you rubbed over your legs, skin tingling against your palms as you tried to knead life back into them before another wave of fatigue hit you like a daze. you were barely cognizant of Ghost kicking off his own pants to the ground somewhere, gripping your chin and saying something.
but your ears were muffled and you felt far away, confused and hazy and just so cold and wanting to sleep.
soon, you felt a body by your own, Ghost’s arms snaking around your waist and speaking low against your ear.
“wake up,” he commanded, pinching the fat of your stomach so that you squirmed with discomfort, eyes fluttering open.
you swatted at his hand, and that seemed to satisfy him because released you. he pulled you into his lap, rubbing up and down your thighs, waist, arms, back. it was warmer in his embrace—his skin still cold but warmer than the frigid air around you. 
you nuzzled closer to him, tangling so you could get almost every inch of his bare skin against your own. cheek pressed against his chest, you tried to stop your shivering and failed miserably.
the frustrated noise from the back of his throat sounded broken and panicked as he hooked his legs around the back of your thighs, arms reaching up around your back so that you were caged into him, almost fully enveloped in the embrace. he laid down on his back, edging over so you were lodged between two rocks, blocking your bodies from the slithers of wind that found their way through the cave.
it left you feeling fuzzy and warmer. so warm that your head perked up when the shivering ceased, eyes wide-open as you came further to your senses.
“better?” he asked, and you nodded, rubbing your arms up and down his biceps, the thick muscle flexing beneath your touch.
“you’re cold,” you mumbled, and he craned his neck to you, kissing your upper lip with a softness.
“thought you were gonna sleep on me sergeant,” he whispered, and you just shook your head, grumbling never beneath your breath before he was kissing you again. harder this time.
you crept a hand into his hair, pulling so his head thudded against the ground. 
“stop,” you scolded, uneasy of his affectionate advances.
his dark eyes gleamed in the red flare. you brushed your fingers over his cheek, observing the dark bags beneath his eyes and the lack of color in his face. lips almost a pale blue.
this time, you stooped down to kiss them, swallowing them with a neediness, willing them to return to that coral pink of his full lips. he hummed into the kiss, fingertips digging into your back and your chest smushed against his from the tight hold.
then, his hand slid down your back, digging into the curve of your ass as he squeezed it.
you yelped into the kiss and pulled back.
“not here,” you hissed, irritated when he just pulled you back down to him, pressing little kisses all over your face.
“need you warm love,” he said, words hushed as his hand crept down to the back of your thigh.
“i am,” you insisted, lax against him because you were no longer quivering incessantly.
he paused, hand sliding back up between your shoulder blades and another pressing the back of your head to his chest.
“hate it when i touch you that much?”
you screwed your eyes shut. when the lieutenant had first started showing up to your door at night, it was unprompted. a mistake. a coincidence maybe. when he crawled into your bed and kissed you, it felt more intentional then. when he touched you so intimately, you didn’t even know what was happening. your body, on autopilot, wanting everything and nothing at the same time.
but then again, it was you stripping yourself of your fatigues and letting him tangle with you in the sheets. it was you begging him to fuck you. begging him to let you come all over his cock, his hands gripping tight at your hips, body warm and flush and so much hot skin pressed against yours it made your head spin.
it was overstimulating, and some nights, you would push him away after sex, denying the care he offered you. denying the affection you craved. the vacant look in his eyes made you regret it every time.
hate it when i touch you that much?
what he said that, you knew it was a joke. there was a hint of truth in it that you wanted to ignore. maybe it was the cold. maybe it was the exhaustion of the neverending mission that wrung your lips open. truth poured out of them.
“no,” you said, brushing your fingers over his chest. “i like it.”
“that right?” he asked, hands lazy as they kneaded at your back.
“yeah,” you whispered, nuzzling into his warmth. he was heating up, the shared skin contact of your bodies raising your temperature so there was a fuzzy pleasurable feeling beneath your skin. tingling and sending shivers down your spine. but not the cold kind.
“you never let me take care ‘a you,” he grumbled back, hands stilling against your back.
“i’m lettin’ you now, aren’t i?” you shot back, and you could practically feel the smug smirk twisting his lips in the dark. you confirmed your suspicions when you looked up past his jaw to see him staring up at the ceiling, a wry smile on his lips.
“gonna let me take care ‘a you when we get back home?”
home. it was a strange word to use for the base, but you knew what he meant nonetheless. home meant in your bed on base. home meant Simon in your bed on base.
“maybe,” you hummed, letting your eyes close, listening to the distant woosh of rain and wind from outside the safety of the cave. “wait out the storm first.”
“course,” he said, voice gruff as he craned his neck to press a sloppy kiss to your forehead. “just don’t go dyin’ on me now.”
you smiled. “i’m just sleeping, lieutenant.”
“i’ll make sure of it, sergeant,” he returned, hands sliding down to squeeze your ass.
you let Simon take care of you, more hushed words against your ear coaxing you to sleep, promising he’d be right there when you woke, promising he’d be right with you when you got back home, promising he’d be right there when you finally clambered into bed after the long week. home.
home in his arms.
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taglist: @ivybeeloved @babygirl-riley
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marcsburnerphone · 2 months
Text
And they were roommates
(Captain John price x F!reader)
Summary: the captain wants somewhere more homely to settle down and when an offer like yours comes alight on Zillow he must take up on it.
Warnings: angsty (minimal), john being slightly troubled, alcohol, reader being slightly embarrassing.
part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5!! -part 6
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You wake up to the sun softly beaming in your room. Limbs stretching beyond the covers. You look around a little confused as to when you got back in your bedroom. Then it all came together. John, John leaves today.
You get out of the covers leaving your bedroom hoping he’s still there but of course to your disappointment he’s gone. You head to the kitchen knowing at least there will be a note. 
Good morning doll, I thought of waking you but decided against it, though I might regret it. The movie was good, you seemed to really be enjoying it also:) Here's the phone number of a friend in case any problems arise. Next time I’m back I hope to see another painting - John 
(xxx-xxx-xxxx) - nick
You stare at it trying not to let your emotions get the best of you. So you fold it and put it in the kitchen drawer. Although John was an awfully quiet roommate you could feel the weight of his absence. The cold floor beneath your feet has grown warm for how long you’ve stood there. You make your way towards the front door deciding that an iced coffee and a long drive with music will rid you of this feeling you can’t decipher it feels like want but in a way it’s also need but what is it you want and need? Not even you could answer that question.
Long story short you think it made the feeling intensify.
————-
1 month in
You’ve booked your schedule full leaving not an ounce of time for yourself. From the morning till night you had clients which were good for money but really it was a distraction for your mind. That same feeling felt like it was running into new veins every day seemingly consuming you. 
You tried to start a new painting but something was off about the color scheme and it was a waste not only of time but material and energy. You wonder how John is.
————-
2 months in
No problems have arisen since he’s been gone. It's like the house knows you’ll call the expensive plumber instead of John’s friend. 
However you have started a painting you are beginning to like. It’s a mix of hues you’ve never used before blues and oranges, a flame. You don’t know where or why the idea came to you but it’s what you wanted so you started it. A single candle is the outline, and the surrounding of it is the orange yellowish aura of a flame. You tried making ratatouille the other day and although it was good you wished it was made out of pepperonis like your childhood mind had imagined. You forgot there was no longer anyone to finish left overs so you ate it for three days straight.
Also you bought a new rug.
————-
3 months in
You’ve begun putting the final laminate on the painting. It’s taken you far longer than it would’ve if you hadn’t accepted 15 new clients. Not that you mind anyways. 
You’re also a little ambivalent to the idea of John paying for 6 months of rent when he doesn’t even live here during it. 
Besides that life seems stagnant and you’ve begun to lock your bedroom door at night again. 
————
4 months in
The painting now hangs a foot away from where the other one in front of John’s door does. It’s a beautiful contrast and really you were overjoyed at the outcome. You also randomly decided it’d be a good idea one night after too much wine to order new furniture for the outside deck. When it arrived you were one in disbelief of all the building pieces and and two excited to have something more to do. 
You should've stayed up the night John left.
————
5 months in  
Redecorating the deck wasn’t enough change. You needed a makeover physically but couldn’t decide how. Maybe a tattoo? No. New makeup? No. How about a haircut?  Fuck it, yes. 
So you did just that, you got a few almost unnoticeable highlights and chopped a good amount off. After the fact you were obsessed. Was it impulsive and could it have gone so horribly wrong, yes. But did it? No. 
———
6 months in 
John’s still not back and it’s all you could think about. What if something happened to him? What if he wasn’t coming back? You worried yourself sick so much so you physically became sick. 
You waited week by week for anything, maybe he’s back on base but just hasn’t come back home yet. But something was telling you it was more than that. 
———-
7 months in 
At this point worrying wasn’t going to make him appear. Your hobbies have now turned into distractions. So tonight you sit in the living room with a glass of wine and watch another rom com. You’re as comfy as can be in this cold brutal weather. It stays below 30 degrees Fahrenheit during this time of year and the snow bites at any unclothed skin. 
You fall asleep to the small hum of the heater while on the couch. Thick blanket thrown across you and tv playing as background chatter. 
You don’t know when you wake but it’s still dark outside when you hear someone that sounds distressed. Your groggy mind isn’t processing that the sound is coming from inside the house. But when it does you're up in a second looking around as your eyes try to adjust to the darkness. 
“Fuck!” You hear from down the hall. John’s room.
You walk quietly towards it as he continues to chant that word. Suddenly it falls silent and you just hear what sounds to be deep breaths. You don’t know what wills you to knock, but you do. 
“John, are you okay?” You ask softly from behind the closed door. He doesn’t respond but you know he’s in there from the quiet but quick breathing. 
“No.” He says with that familiar deep drawl.
You open the door slowly to see him sitting on the floor near the corner of his bed clearly distressed. You take notice of the mess wondering how you slept through the making of it. There’s glass from somewhere on the floor and clothes strewn but when you look at him your heart breaks. He’s in full uniform, vest on, belt with equipment on, as if he didn’t stop anywhere. Just came straight here. His hair has grown out to an odd length and his beard has grown longer. 
“I can’t get this fucking vest off.” He interrupts your thoughts looking at you with a sense of sorrow. You kneel to where he is careful to avoid glass. His eyes don’t glance up to meet yours; they stay fixated on his hands that are covered in dirt.
“May I?” You gesture towards the plastic buckles on the vest. He nods and you start with the two at his shoulders. Then you reach down his chest to undo the two near his belt buckle. You realize it must be connected somewhere in the back when it doesn’t come off. He leans forwards as you look trying to avoid the bloodstains that taint the once green vest and sure enough the tiniest but mightiest buckle is on the center of his lower back. He shrugs it off with a sigh. 
“Better?” You ask softly.
“Yeah, Thankyou.” He slowly tilts his head back to lean on the comforter and you don’t move an inch. 
“What can I do?” Truthfully you’ve never been in a situation so unbearably awkward but so unwilling to just leave.
“Just sit here with me.” So you do. You scoot right next to him and lean your head on his shoulder. He couldn’t admit it but the nights he slept in cold frost biting weather the thought of returning to your warm presence got him through.
“He almost died.” His voice gives out at the end of that sentence.
“Who?” 
“Johnny, it would’ve been my fault. One second later and they would’ve put a bullet through his skull.”
“But he’s okay?” You know John loves his team even though he doesn’t outwardly say it.
“He’s perfectly fine.” 
“Worrying about what could’ve been will kill you.” 
“Sometimes I feel like that’s what I deserve for some of the things I’ve done.” 
“If not you it would be someone else making the world a better place.” 
“I know.” 
You sit there with him for a while in silence. He can barely believe he made it back alive but right now the battle feels worth it. He hears soft snores not too long later and realizes you’ve fallen back to sleep. His head leans to rest above yours as he closes his eyes. He knows sleep won’t come to him but he’s never had you this close and for now he’ll cherish it.
————-
When you woke up again the sun had risen and a golden glow lit John’s room. 
“John.” You whisper trying not to move your head in case he’s sleeping.
“Yeah doll.” He lifts his head to look at you.
“I’m so sorry.” You feel slightly embarrassed and bad that you just fell asleep on him.
“Nothing to be sorry for.” He sighs before standing on his feet with a groan then offering you hand to help you up.
“I’m going to shower.” He says as you dust yourself off.
“After can I give you a haircut?” He laughs a little at your not so subtle realization of his long hair..
“If you’d like.” 
“I’d love.” You say before leaving, assuring him you’d be back when he's done.
You pick up your mess from the previous night. Folding your blanket and putting it back in the basket near the couch. Taking your wine glass to the sink and rinsing it out. You go to your room and change into an outfit for the day and do your morning routine. After you grab your shears, clippers and cape. By the time you're done doing all of this you no longer hear the water running meaning John’s done with his shower. You knock on his door lightly.
“Come in.” You walk in to see him sweeping up his mess with the small house broom and can’t help but smile at the sight. 
“Come on, let's cut your hair in the bathroom, better lighting and you can see what I’m doing.” You say heading straight there. You sit him on the little bathroom bar stool that’s been in there since your ex moved out. Once he’s sitting the only cape you have is pink so you throw it on him begging yourself to not laugh which you fail causing him to smirk. 
“Okay so I’m just gonna clean it up, fade the sides a very little, cut the top with shears and what not.” You let him know.
“You cut your hair?” He replies, staring at you through the mirror.
“Yeah so?” You smile.
“I like it, it looks good.” You feel that feeling only johns been able to provoke.
“Thankyou.” You begin the cut, slowly combing out sections making sure to be precise. He seems far more relaxed than you’d imagined as you just freely cut at the top. After the matter once you're satisfied you shave the sides a little just enough to where it looks cleaner. 
“Can I do your beard and mustache?” 
“You're the hairstylist, not me?” Is all he says. 
So you do, very carefully, mere inches away from his face your hands hold one side of his jaw softly to trim the other side. He watches your expression intently. The way when you’re focused there’s a crease that forms between your eyebrows and your pupils blow a little wide.
“All done.”  You say pulling him from his trance. You move his face with your hands really checking to make sure all is well.
“Very handsome.” You compliment before turning around to rinse your shears and put them away. 
“Thank You doll.” He says examining it himself in the mirror thoroughly pleased with how well you did even though he knows you don’t cut men’s hair. He doesn’t notice you grab his beard oil from the cabinet till you're smoothing it between your hands and asking him to face you so you can rub it through the coarse brown hair. Ever the nurturer.
It feels like time apart only made you two feel closer somehow. Or maybe it’s because you wanted to be close and those feelings were equally reciprocated. 
The rest of that day John had loads of paperwork to file, sign and report. So he did that, he sat in his office for long hours going through the process. The only thing that slightly lightened this burden was your voice humming in the kitchen as you cooked something. You’d stopped by and offered him some which he gladly accepted from your giving hands. Hours later you bid him a goodnight and went to bed and even then he had so much more left.
—————
The next day you catch John in the kitchen and tell him there’s something you must show him.
“So you built it all yourself?” He says as you show him your little project you did outside. There’s a thick coat wrapped around you as you don’t fully step outside to avoid slipping on the icy ground. Him though, he stands on it with no problem in what looks like military issued boots. 
“Yes I did.” You say proudly despite his clear disdain.
“I missed you, even your stubbornness.” After the months John’s been through there was no point in hiding the way he was feeling.
“I missed you too.” You smile while clearly avoiding his gaze.
How had he missed this all along?
“Would you like to go out for drinks?”
“What?” You turn around to meet his eyes.
“Can I take you out for drinks?” What being mere inches away from death does to a man.
“Yeah.” 
-
You both silently walk away trying to break the bounds of the tense pull that makes you want to gravitate towards each other. You put on something cute but also warm and slip on some brown doc martens as your choice of shoe. You do light makeup as you give yourself a pep talk.
“Only two drinks, only two drinks.” You have to tell yourself cause after two your too you. 
You hear John putting his shoes on by the hallway and take in the sight of him, brown leather jacket and beanie. You’re not sure how he’s going to stay warm in that but something tells you he will.
“Ready?” He asks and you nod nervously.
-
“Okay, hold on, I have to do this really slow or I’ll fall.” You say stepping slowly out onto the ground below the porch stairs. 
“Well come here I’ll help you.” He offers his hand. You grab it softly, swooning at the way it encompasses your own. There’s something inside of him that doesn’t even want you to risk walking on this floor but of course he also doesn’t want to push. 
“Okay nice and slow.” You’re not even taking full steps, just small slides. You clutch his hand for dear life and he loves it. 
“Good girl.” He says once you reach the door of his truck which he opens for you. He doesn’t let go till you sit inside then only does he slip his hand from your warm one and closes the door. 
“Which pub?” You ask as he turns on the heater only for your sake.
“The one downtown near the little Italian grocer.” You know exactly which one he’s talking about. Its dim light atmosphere is cozy but fun but usually full of mainly couples.
“Mkay.” You say looking out the window at the gloomy sky realizing it just might rain. 
He glances your way during the small drive, your scent of your floral perfume mixed with his of cardamom and musk is quite perfect. 
“You alright?” He asks.
“Yeah, just comfy, you?” He grins at your response.
“Never been better.”
He pulls into one of the street parking spots and despite the weather the streets are full, he gets out to put coins inside the slot for time before heading to your side of the car. 
“Wait, I'm scared.” You say realizing that the distance to the bar doesn’t seem to be a survivable one. 
“Come on, I'll hold your hand.”
“I’ll fall regardless.”
“Want me to carry you?” He genuinely offers.
“What?” You laugh. 
“Doll I’m very serious I will carry you, just get on my back.”
“What if we both fall?” 
“I’m not falling, trust me.” He says turning around motions for you to get on his back.
“Okay then.” You hook your legs around his upper waist and his arms reach to tuck themselves firmly beneath your knees.
“Comfortable?” He asks. He’s sure you can hear his heart racing from the proximity you’re in. 
“Very.” All your dreams of climbing this man have come true. 
You shut the door as he steps onto the sidewalk. You tuck your chin in by his neck for warmth. He smells woodsy with a hint of musk, it makes your head spin.
“How are you not slipping?” You say very suspicious.
“Doll I could run on this floor with these boots on.” He answers looking slightly over his shoulder at you.
“Well don’t.” You say seriously and he laughs as he approaches the bar, opening the door and setting you softly on the floor. 
He finds you both a booth in the corner and sits on the side where he can see the entire bar, very John of John.
“What do you drink?” He asks, trying to make conversation. Suddenly the air feels very intimate, almost too intimate for what he considers his old man heart.
“When I’m out, martinis.” 
“Espresso?” 
“Mhmm.” You’re trying your hardest to hold the eye contact he’s giving you but something about the blue in his eyes and creases on the side of them has you breaking it quicker than it started.
“I’ll be back then.” He says sliding out of the booth feeling slightly accomplished.
You sit there looking at the lively pub, how many romances are at their peak here, how many friends are having the best night of their lives, how you amongst them are finally feeling like you again. 
“Here we are.” He says returning with two glasses, his is a classic bourbon with a square ice cube in the glass.
“Thankyou.” You say as he slides it over to you.
“So what’d you do while I was gone, other than be reckless and build furniture.” He asks as you sip from your glass.
“I did lots of hair, painted a bit, found new color schemes for decor and that’s kinda it, I’d ask you the same question but I fear you can’t answer.” 
“Your fears are true.”
“That Kate woman, she's very pretty.” Are you a little jealous?
“Yeah she’s also very married.” He says it like he doesn’t know what you're on about.
“And also not into men.” You nearly choke on your drink and swallow hard to get it down.
“Well I was just saying.” Sure you were.
You two have small chatter as you go through drinks. You tried to offer the second round but John said no for you to just stay in your seat. He came back with thirds and you definitely were starting to feel the effects of the previous two, him though not at all.
“So you’re telling me John you as very um good looking as you are haven’t had a girlfriend in how long?” 
“Eight years.” He says while being very amused with your light hearted, open attitude.
“That’s just not right.”
“No?” 
“No, personally, well never mind.” You’re not drunk enough to say what you were about too.
“What about you, why no boyfriends?” 
“I’m very, I would say needy I guess clingy even, I’m a double texter, someone who worries and loves too much and I think that can be overwhelming for a lot of people.” You admit.
“Don’t believe that.” He says, sounding a little annoyed.
“For the right person you could never be overwhelming.” He says looking at you intensely and this time you can’t seem to look away.
Once your third drink is finished it’s raining outside and you’re words away from trouble.
“John?” 
“Yeah doll.”
“You make me feel alive again.” You admit, the alcohol has casted a pretty shade of pink on your cheeks as you lean your head on your hand and John doesn’t think he’s ever been more entranced. 
“You and me both, here drink some water.” He slides it to you. You’re sweet, too sweet. He feels like if he touches you physically or emotionally he’d be tainting art.
“Has anyone told you you're very climbable?” 
“It’s time for us to get going, you're quite the light weight.” He laughs offering you a hand as you slide off the booth.
He leaves a tip on the table before walking with you to the door. He has to bend far more than he normally would for you to secure yourself on his back before he’s walking outside. This time he’s walking faster because of the rain droplets that are falling hard. He seats you in the car and reaches across you to buckle you in before heading to his side. 
The drive home is pretty quiet, he drives extra slowly because of the precious cargo he carries. Once he pulls back into the gravelly drive way you unbuckle and open the door as he puts the car in park. 
“You don’t want to wait for me.” He asks, a little concerned.
“I got this.” You hop out of the elevated truck immediately slipping and having to grab onto the door. He walks quickly to your side laughing at the expression on your face.
“You sure do.” He says as he grabs your arm
“Oh stop it.” You say accepting the help, sliding your feet on the ice again till you get to the door. Once you get inside you groan into the toasty air. 
“Thankyou for tonight John.” You say facing him once you kick your boots off. You hadn’t realized how close you were till you turned around and could feel the heat radiating off of him and smell the bourbon on his breath. 
“No, thank you.” He says feeling awfully captivated, hanging onto your every move. You cup his face and stand on your tippy toes, boldly yet slowly placing a kiss on the corner of his lips. 
He’s starstruck. Absolutely dazed at the look of mischief in your eyes, something that tells him you know exactly what you’re doing to him. 
“Goodnight John.” You say patting his chest and walking down towards your room.
—————
I couldn't wait till tommorrow i'm sorry.
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hannieehaee · 3 months
Text
them accidentally ditching you on your bday - pu
hhu, vu, pu
part 2
content: angsty, gender neutral, established relationship, etc.
wc: 2766
a/n: tysm to the few ppl who requested this i hope u like it! pls lmk if u want a pt. 2! i decided to go on a diff direction for minghao's for further angst hehe sorry </3
masterlist
jun -
jun's absence was always a source of sadness for you. it was hard to not miss such a special person in your life, especially when his absence was so frequent due to his career.
dating an idol was difficult, but jun always made it worth it. he kept you to himself, always prioritizing you as much as he could. no day would go by in which he didnt contact you one way or another, even if it was just a quick 'i love you.'
these past two weeks had been hectic for him. going back and forth between china and korea, and even japan all at once had him in planes almost constantly. if he wasnt at a concert, he was at a fansign, and if he wasnt at a fansign, he was at some fashion event. there was no rest for a single member of seventeen during times like these. but despite that, life had smiled at jun's exhausted state for once. he had three consecutive days off; with one of them falling on your birthday.
you had insisted that using up his very rare free time on you was unnecessary. that you'd be happy to just have him home as he slept for the entirety of the three days, but he had insisted to spend the day with him. had even convinced you to cancel all other plans you may have originally had for your special day in favor of spending it with him. he had been unable to promise you anything grandiose, cringing at himself when he told you it'd just be a nice day in between the two of you. nothing made you happier than the thought, assuring him it was more than enough.
the day prior to your birthday, he had decided to go stay with his parents. he hadnt seen them in a while, and they were currently staying in jun's home in korea, so it was perfect. he was still a bit exhausted from the previous twelve days in which had received no more than four hours of sleep at a time, but he headed straight to them the moment he landed nonetheless. it was a nice evening he had with them, catching up and being fed home cooked meals by his mom. he went to sleep a bit late, but not until after facetiming you to let you know how excited he was to to spend your birthday with you. it was 1am by then, so technically it had been your birthday already. he let you go at some point, letting you know he'd be in your home by 11am sharp with a gift in hand.
the next day came sooner than expected, with jun groggily waking up, drool on his pillow showing the very deep slumber he had fallen under. he had not slept so well in months, not having allowed himself a healthy eight hours of sleep in a very long time. it was weird, though, he felt way too well rested, more than you'd expect from a regular night of sleep. upon checking the clock he realized why. it was now 2pm .. had he slept a total of twelve hours?! how exhausted had he been? it was now three hours after the time he was supposed to be meeting you. he ran to his phone to check if you'd called, only to find it dead. he had forgotten to charge it before heading to sleep. his exhaustion had truly gotten the best of him last night.
he gave it ten minutes go charge before turning it on, immediately wincing at your ten missed calls and your dejected messages wondering why he was gone, even worrying if anything had happened until finally tracking his location and realizing he had been home the whole time. you did not have his parents' number, so it had been impossible for you to contact him. by the end of the messages you'd informed him that you'd just go for a quick lunch with your friends, letting him know that it was okay if he just stayed home with his parents if he so wished. you'd only hoped he couldve kept you in mind before changing plans.
his day off could not have gotten any worse.
soonyoung -
admittedly, soonyoung could be a bit ... air-headed at times. its not that he didnt think, but more like he acted on impulse rather than logic. this would sometimes lead him to issues in various areas of his life. including your romantic relationship.
you'd been dating soonyoung for a while, already growing used to his silly antics by now. he was a silly boy, who could blame him! you found him endearing more than anything, always making you laugh and find joy in the little things. your relationship had been nothing but fun so far. not only was he entertaining to be around, but he was also a loving boyfriend and practically obsessed with you. he was affectionate to a fault, always doting on you. at some point he became a bit of an annoyance to his members, constantly showing you off to them in your absence. just like with anything else in life, when it came to you, he didnt think much. he just went based on feelings, and his feelings for you were quite strong.
this was why you were confused as to why your boyfriend was absent at this moment. the same boy who could not go five minutes away from you (whenever his job didnt get in the way, of course) without whining, had seemingly forgotten your plans for the day.
soonyoung was supposed to return from japan this morning after two weeks of absence from your shared home. you had told him it was fine if he wanted to rest instead of doing something for your birthday, which coincidentally landed today. a day in with him was more than enough, you'd assured him, but he insisted that all he needed upon his return was a quick nap with you and then he'd be ready to head out for a night out with you. except he never showed up. you waited and waited, receiving no explanation from him. you even called him multiple times, but he mustve kept his phone on airplane mode, as he never responded. you knew how easily distracted he could be, but to straight up forget to come home was too much, even for his standards.
it wasnt until five hours after his supposed arrival that you found out what had happened to him. you received a call from a very exhausted minghao, letting you know that his driver would be dropping off soonyoung at your home shortly. he and the boys had gone for a spontaneous drink after the flight, with chan having lost some sort of bet and having to buy them all drinks as punishment upon arrival. there was no mention of your birthday during the call, making you think that it had even slipped soonyoung's mind to let his members know he had previous plans.
the annoyance you were feeling was the least of your problems at the moment. you'd probably have to deal with a drunk soonyoung as soon as he and minghao arrived, having to put your feelings aside as you took care of him in order to ensure a painless hangover the next morning, yet another day in which he had to work. not only had he forgotten you, but he had prevented you from making any plans to favor spending time with him, time which would now be spent babying him until sleep took over him.
minghao -
the day had started well. you had woken up to a beautiful message from your loving boyfriend, with a few selfies attached as he told you how much he loved you and how badly he wanted to be home with you right now to celebrate your birthday. you felt truly loved upon exiting your room to find a few different bouquets of flowers, all labeled as 'from: xu minghao', your sweet boyfriend who would always give you small showcases of his affection such as this one.
he had left before you were able to wake up, having scheduled as early as 4am. he had a fashion show to attend today, along with many other previous engagements in regards to his idol life. but you were fine with it! he had promised you time and time again that he'd be home on time by 7 or 8-ish in order to have a romantic dinner with you. this had been the birthday celebration you had been looking forward to the most. you had a quick breakfast with a few friends, along with a small brunch with some family, which meant the final and most important part of your day would come last. you were extremely excited. it was a birthday dinner with the love of your life, a luxury you did not often get due to minghao's overly packed schedule.
at 6, you began to get ready, opting for a cute outfit that would have the usually composed salivating over you. at 7, you had all dinner arrangements ready. minghao had asked mingyu to drop off some dishes earlier in the day, claiming he had wanted to cook for you himself but the fashion show would leave him with no time, instead deciding to ask his best friend to do him a solid since he had been off earlier than minghao today. everything was ready by 7:30, so now all you had to do was wait.
you waited until 8, which soon became 9, only to become 10:30 and then 11 in what almost felt like minutes. you knew your boyfriend did not carry his personal phone with him during public schedules, so you didn't bother calling him, instead choosing to confirm his location with his manager, who let you know he had been driven to an after-party at around 8:30, thirty minutes after your established meeting time.
by 11:30 you had already put on your pajamas, dejectedly picking up all the dishes and saving them for another day. you weren't just disappointed, but you were sad too. he had promised you this for days, only to pick an optional schedule over you. this was very unlike him, but you still did not want to give him a pass for his carelessness.
he came back by 12, apologizing as soon as he spotted you waiting for him on the couch, only to be interrupted by you.
"minghao ... what the fuck? you say you'll be here by 8 and just ditch me for a stupid after party? is there any explanation for this or were you just trying to be a dick?", you knew you went too hard too fast, not even letting him finish his apology, but you were mad.
the venom in your voice seemed to irritate him almost immediately, causing a scary side of minghao to come out. he was never mean, per say, but he could be a bit too cold and direct sometimes. he seemed to forget his mistake immediately, instead pining the fault on you.
"y/n, im an idol. this is my job. you know its my dream to get into the fashion field. i need networking to do that. as my partner you have to understand that. its not like i didnt warn you itd be today."
"and i do understand! but all night? you could've told me. you couldve gone back on your word and i wouldve understood, but you-"
"listen. im not gonna have a conversation if you keep yelling. calm down, and when you decide to act like an adult, ill be willing to discuss this with you," it was so easy for him to dismiss you, which shocked you. he was usually so attentive.
"are you .. are you serious? are you drunk?"
"believe it or not, we're not all waiting for this day to put all our own shit aside and celebrate. i cant believe you're not being supportive. you havent even asked me how it went, i-"
"you know what? you're right. im sorry. i hope it went great, minghao. i'm gonna go to sleep now, if you dont mind. goodnight," there was truly no use in arguing. you knew him to be incredibly stubborn, and he was starting to hurt your feelings. so you marched to sleep, deciding to take the guest room instead, slamming the door shut as you finally let yourself cry at your boyfriend's lack of care.
chan -
chan was an exemplary boyfriend. he was, for lack of a better term, down tremendously bad for you. one simple look from you and he was reporting for duty, ready to do whatever you wanted. this behavior manifested in every aspect of your relationship, making him be labeled as a bit of a simp by all your mutual friends. chan did not mind this, however, being insanely into you and willing to go through all lengths to make sure you knew how loved you were by him.
your relationship was very much like a friendship, allowing the two of you to joke around and hang out as friends would, but also having all the special benefits of a committed relationship. you'd show up for each other more than anyone else, making your bond stronger than any other in your respective lives.
you had expected this to be the same case for your birthday. you hadn't mentioned it much, knowing chan was coincidentally busy during that week. you blamed him in no way for his busy schedule, always supporting his passions and even egging him on whenever he wanted to take on even more challenges (although also scolding him whenever he burnt himself out too much). but you were still somehow expected he would at least mention it.
you were surprised to wake up that day - having fallen asleep before chan's arrival home - to no type of reaction from chan. he was already awake, almost ready to leave for yet another busy day of schedules, with no single word mentioning your birthday. you knew he was insanely busy, but not even a quick 'happy birthday'? in the back of your mind you had hoped maybe he would at least bring you flowers or something upon his return the previous night, but he had clearly headed to sleep upon arrival. for someone who was usually a romantic, his lack of reaction surprised you.
deciding not to make a big deal out of it, you didn't say anything, simply bidding him goodbye with a quick kiss and an 'i love you' to match. you had the day off, but no real plans made, so you decided to just mope around the house, maybe schedule a date with one of your friends for the evening. you had kept your schedule open in the off chance than maybe chan wouldve planned a quick little something. you knew you could've just communicated this to your boyfriend, but you had wanted the romantics sue you!
surprisingly, you received a call a few minutes after chan's departure; one from one of your closest mutual friends, one boo seungkwan. it was very likely that he had remembered today's date, very much unlike your boyfriend.
"hi, kwannie," you replied upon answering.
"baby! happy birthday!!! love you!"
you sighed, "thank you, boo. love you too."
"aigoo, something wrong? sad channie can't stay in today?", you could hear and see his pout through the phone.
"no, kwannie. it's nothing. don't worry about it," even if you were slightly annoyed, you didnt want to throw your boyfriend under the bus.
"no! tell me!! you can't be sad on your birthday, cmon!"
"well .. chan kinda, uh, forgot."
"what? did he say anything?"
"nope. just left without saying anything."
"aish, that idiot. don't worry, i'll take care of this, i'll-"
"no, kwan! it's fine. i dont wanna make a big deal out of it. you guys are busy with your comeback. it's okay, i'll get over it."
"but, baby-"
"kwan, really. i'm fine, i swear. have a good day for me, okay? love you."
he humphed, but accepted your response, "fine. you better have fun today too, though, okay? love you."
and that was the end of it. you would now probably spend the next few hours a bit dejected, not looking forward to the inevitable moment in which your boyfriend realized his mistake, knowing you couldn't really be mad at him due to his busy lifestyle, but feeling hurt nonetheless.
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webslingingslasher · 2 months
Note
hii!! can you do one where situationship!peter like yells at trouble or something along those lines or is like embarrassed to be seen w her (i jsut wanna read something angsty 😭😭)
no rush ofc!! hope u had a good new years 🎀
added these two asks together <3
what do u think that frat!peter would do if he made trouble cry, like it was his fault
-----
when peter got a congratulatory clap on his shoulder with a 'heard you got cuffed up. good for you, man.' he brushed it off. peter had a good guess on why someone made that connection, he's been a little handsy with you at parties, and on campus. it's a natural thought.
when peter got nudged by a member of another frat, and a 'congrats, bro. she's a hottie.' he felt confused.
the third time it happened, while at his own house, peter finally asked what was up. 'where did you hear that?' a punch to his arm, 'your chick. she's telling everyone you're her boyfriend.'
and that? it made his blood boil.
'she's lying, i'm not dating anyone.' the brother's eyebrows raised, 'oh. i mean, i guess she told ja-' peter spoke up louder, 'she's a fucking liar.' the brother leaves it alone.
peter was almost pacing his floor while waiting for you. you've brought it up a thousand times, he's made his opinion very clear, and yet you're going behind his back and telling everyone he's the one thing he's not.
you don't notice his distaste, reaching out for a kiss you're dodged. peter wants to scoff at your pout, no wonder you feel sad, your boyfriend refused your touch.
'anything you wanna tell me, trouble?'
you're immediately taken back by his tone. 'anything that might get back to me?' you have a sinking feeling you know what it's about, you didn't know it would be whispered about, but you should've.
but, you won't put your foot in your mouth yet. 'i don't think so.' peter lets out a dry laugh, 'no? there's nothing that you did that makes you look fucking crazy?'
you swallow hard, is that what he thought of you? if so, he's wrong. 'i'm not crazy.' peter throws his hands up, 'really? okay, let's see if we can figure this one out together. i'm not your boyfriend, but apparently you're telling people i am. is that supposed to make you look sane?'
it's downright mean. 'you're being very condescending right now, peter. i don't like it.' peter's loud with his next sentence. 'just how i don't like being called your fucking boyfriend?'
your world comes crashing down. how could he be so brutal with such ease. it's so harsh you can't swallow back your emotions.
tears blot at your eyes while your lower lip trembles. 'is the idea of being with me that bad?' peter feels as crushed as you look. once it starts you can't stop, and to break down in front of peter, after he just called you fucking crazy, makes you dehumanize yourself.
you huff small breaths and try to wipe away the tears as they fall. you struggle to say your words without pausing to gasp. 'you didn't even... ask why.' it brings a new wave, he's being silent and you think it's over and final and you didn't get a chance to plead your case.
'i need... to leave.' you can't breathe, you can't even feel your feet when you move. you don't make it far because peter's in front of you and using his chest to back you up.
'alright, alright. just stop crying, okay?' peter doesn't know what to do because he's never actually made a girl cry that hard, or at least in his face, making him aware of his actions and how he could've tried to approach this in a calm way.
'you hate me,' you gasp, 'and you think i'm crazy,' another gasp, but this time you're scooped into his hold. 'stop. please, stop. please stop crying.' peter thinks if he squeezes you hard enough he could piece the parts he ruined back together.
'i'm sorry. i'm so sorry.' peter doesn't know what he wanted, but it wasn't a pleading apology coughed out between sobs. fuck, he was mean, wasn't he? 'stop it, trouble. just breathe, alright? it's done, okay?'
oh, peter's shit at this. you cry even harder, 'i know we are. i'm so sorry, i'll tell everyone i made it up and... and you-'
'we're not done. the conversation is done. just please stop fucking crying.' peter can't stress it enough because he feels so guilty he's about to start crying in solidarity.
'no! not until, not until you hear-'
'i'm not going to listen to anything until you can say three words without holding your breath.' it's useless, 'i think i'm dying.' you don't know how, but you're held even tighter to his chest, 'you're not dying. you're upset because i said mean things.'
you're able to take a deep breath, it feels good. 'you did.' peter can finally relax, you're not on the verge of passing out anymore. 'i know. i was really mean, wasn't i?'
'yeah.' fuck, he really, really hates how miserable he made you. peter cares about you, it's the one thing he makes sure to tell you, but he doesn't think you talk to the people you care about that way.
'i promise i'm not crazy, i just-'
'you're not crazy and i should've never said that.' you try to keep your face tilted down when peter pulled back, but he was adamant on having you look at him.
'i'm so sorry, okay? i was caught off guard by all these comments today and i took it out on you. you're right, i should've asked why. but i didn't, and i'm sorry.'
'jackson ruth got all weird and touchy at his party last week and i just blurted out that you were my boyfriend so he'd leave me alone and i swear i didn't mean for him to have it spread.'
you hate that you made him ashamed, maybe you said that part out loud too because you think you saw something break inside his eyes.
peter softly cups your face, any stray droplets cleared with a brush of his thumbs under your eyes. 'i'm not ashamed of you, i'd never be ashamed of you. you're my baby.'
hook, line, and sinker.
'you are always allowed to use my name if you need to, i promise. i was a dick and i made you cry and now i feel like shit that i made you feel like shit, and now i feel even shitter because i'm somehow making this about me.'
you wrap your hands around his, you'd rather him keep his hold. you feel special. 'do you mean it?' peter nods softly, he leans down for a kiss. it's warming, your chest blossoms wide.
if you were fucking crazy, hypothetically, you'd claim the accusation boldly when he says 'on everything i love.'
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egcdeath · 1 year
Text
clean sheet
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pairing: joel miller x reader 
summary: nothing stirs the pot like your ex-husband, gossipy soccer moms, and a weekend-long soccer tournament. (part two of spectator sport)
word count: 7.7k
warnings: canon divergent: no apocalypse, implied past emotional abuse, jealousy/misunderstanding, kinda angsty in the beginning but verrrry fluffy at the end, insecurities, there was only one bed, mutual pining, sarah and chloe being menaces as usual
author’s note: this past week has been extremely rough. like, ao3 author’s note apologizing for being gone rough, so i’m just as surprised as you are that i was able to write 7,000 words of a part two to spectator sport. enjoy!
 part 3 / series masterlist
Tournament season was nothing short of an absolute pain in the ass. It was a pain in the ass when you were married and able to evenly split your responsibilities, and it’s even more of a pain in the ass now that your ex-husband has decided to participate minimally in all soccer related ventures. 
To be completely honest, it seemed like it wasn’t just soccer ventures your ex wasn’t too enthused to partake in, as Nathan had ditched most of his fatherly duties whenever a new, younger girlfriend was in the picture. But that was neither here nor there.
Despite Nathan taking Chloe to her past few games this season—you were completely swamped with work and you had practically gotten on your knees and begged for him to take her to them—he didn’t seem to have any interest in assisting you with tournaments. 
That was fine and good. You knew about the events far enough in advance to move some meetings around, block off some time, and cross your fingers and hope that nothing came up unexpectedly in the days prior to your game. Although, what you couldn’t account for was your car completely breaking down on your way back from a bagel shop the morning before you were meant to be on the road for the next three hours. 
But alas, the universe had its way of kicking you when you were already down, leaving you biting back tears in the passenger seat of a tow truck as you attempted to figure out a Plan B.
“Please, Nathaniel,” you pleaded over the phone, pacing back and forth in your bedroom as you tried your absolute best to hold the last bits of your composure together. 
“I’ve been at her last three games,” it was impossible to miss the sneer in his voice as if his own daughter was the biggest burden in the world. “And where have you been? It’s practically been a month.”
“Where have I been?” you laughed out of anger and at the absurdity of his words. You knew that he knew for a fact that you’d been drowning in work. “Nathaniel. You know how my work has been. Please just do this one thing for your child. It’s the fucking weekend. It’s not like you’re doing anything else.”
“It’s always work with you. You know, this is why I couldn’t be with you anymore. You were always so selfish with your time and inconsiderate with mine,” he sighed dismissively. “And for the record, Claire and I have a reservation tonight. So I am doing something else.”
It was staggering how minimized and powerless he made you feel after every interaction despite how little he actually was in your life. Every time you interacted with the man you thanked whatever forces out there that you somehow found it in yourself to leave. 
You huffed and blinked away tears, hugging yourself to attempt to bring yourself some sort of comfort. After signing the papers, you told yourself you would never waste one single tear on the man again. You wouldn’t let a little argument like this change that promise.
“Can I at least borrow your car?” you sounded so meek and desperate, but you were running out of options, and with every passing minute you had less and less options.
Instead of responding, Nathan simply laughed at you before ending the call. Humiliated didn’t even begin to cover how you felt about the whole situation. 
You angrily wiped away the hot tears that had slipped down your face without your permission and sighed as you evaluated what options you had left. You could take an Uber, but it would be ridiculously expensive. You could rent a car, but Chloe was bound to get stains and dirt tracked throughout the vehicle. Anything else was far too short notice. 
You flopped down onto your bed and screamed into your pillow. The stress from your overfilled work week combined with an extremely inconvenient situation was taking its toll on you, but you needed to figure something out. 
Maybe you could carpool with someone. Although, you weren’t sure who was still in town, as most of the families liked to leave at the ass crack of dawn. If that wasn’t enough, you weren’t exactly sure you wanted to sit in a small contained space with some of those families for a prolonged period of time. 
Maybe you could ‘borrow’ Nathan’s car regardless of what he said. You were sure his new girlfriend had a car–if she was even old enough to drive one–and they could certainly take that car to their ever-important reservation tonight. Although, maybe getting a grand theft auto charge in order to make it to a soccer tournament wasn't your greatest idea.
You were deep in the eye of a brainstorm when a soft little knock rapped against your door, seconds before Chloe peeked her head in. 
“Hi mom,” she greeted, completely unaware of the extent of your conundrum. “Sarah can’t find her cleats and wanted to know if she could borrow one of mine. Where do you keep my old ones?” 
Joel.
Oh shit, Joel.
Joel who you’d accidentally ghosted after the promise of a date. With work and ex-spousal drama, you hadn’t even had a moment to think about the date. A knot tied in your stomach as you thought about how you’d treated him. He probably thought you were icing him out on purpose. 
“They should be downstairs in the front closet under the coats,” you informed her. “You almost ready to go?”
“What does it look like?” she retorted sassily, doing a little spin for you to show off her full soccer attire. 
“Alright,” you chuckled, trying to keep it together for just a while longer. “Go find those cleats.”
With that, she was off, and you were alone with just one option. 
You dialed the number that you’d only texted once, and bit your lip as the phone rang out. The knot in your stomach tied and untied with each ring of the phone, nausea rattling you as you thought about all the ways he could answer. He’d probably be pissed that you were only reaching out to him now, only when you needed something from him. He’d probably tell you off, just like Nathan, and laugh at you over the phone over the mere prospect of hitching a ride with him.
After three rings, Joel finally picked up, saying your name aloud, as if he was genuinely surprised to be hearing from you. 
“Joel, I’m so sorry,” you took a deep breath and attempted to hold back the wave of emotions coming over you. This stupid stressful morning. This stupid stressful month. And stupid you for leaving a good man waiting for you. A good man who was probably moments away from becoming a bad man, like every other one that seemed to appear in your life.
“My car broke down this morning and I don’t have any other way to get to the tournament. Is there any way we can carpool? I’ll literally pay you to take us. I’ll drive Sarah to school for the rest of the school year. Hell, I’ll take her to games too. Just… please.” It felt like you were talking a million miles a minute. 
“Hey, take a breath,” he said, clearly picking up on the frantic energy you were radiating through the phone. “We’re heading out in about twenty minutes. We’ll swing by your place. And don’t worry about all that other stuff, okay? Just take a big breath. I’ll see you soon.”
You were flooded with relief as you spoke your gratitude and hung up. It almost felt odd to not have someone go off on you for waiting so last minute to reach out for help, or for not reaching out to them after you said that you would. You were puzzled, and not completely sure what you did to deserve someone like Joel in your life, but you were grateful to have him regardless. Especially now that he was coming to save the day. 
Sure enough, around twenty minutes later, a pickup truck arrived in front of your house, and Chloe was sprinting to go sit with her friend in the backseat, still overjoyed from the news that she would be traveling with her friend. 
Timidly, you entered the car, still anticipating a stern lecture or even a scolding for being a shitty mom, and an even worse potential partner. “I really can’t thank you enough for this, Joel,” you expressed before he had the chance to speak, hoping that if you expressed your gratitude before he had the chance to yell at you, the blow would be lessened. You kept your eyes down as you sat down and set your overnight bag in front of you. 
“Of course. You know, I still owe you a favor after that dinner fiasco,” he glanced over at you and smiled, and some of that fear you had been holding onto began to melt away. Although, you blanched at the mention of the date that you were meant to go on, but hadn’t had the chance to do so. Yet, there didn’t seem to be any malice behind Joel’s words. 
“I guess we’re even?” you offered, looking over at the man to attempt to read him as he slung his arm around the back of the headrest and looked through the rearview mirror as he pulled out. 
“Yeah,” he said shortly, almost… dejectedly? Maybe you were reading into it too much. After all, his attention was split between you and getting out of your driveway safely. 
Regardless of what anyone was feeling, your journey began with the girls in the back chatting amongst themselves and a slightly weighted silence between the two of you in the front while the sound of radio filled in for the lack of conversation between you and Joel.
You spent the majority of the ride looking out your window, deep in thought. You tried not to let Nathan get under your skin all that often, but maybe he was right about the way you spent your time. You’d practically thrown away your shot at any relationship with the man next to you, simply because you were too busy and forgot about a promise you’d made. 
You tried to focus on the excited chatter in the seat behind you, and less on the venomous words Nathan had given you over the years, but it was a difficult task. Paired with the fact that you were still waiting for the shoe to drop and Joel to go off on you, it wasn’t the most pleasant time.
After about an hour of driving (and in your case, brooding), you had to make a stop at the gas station, as the truck was running low on fuel. You reached for your wallet and grabbed a twenty dollar bill, then passed it back to the girls behind you. “Go get some snacks for us?” 
“Of course!” Chloe cheered, hopping out of the car and racing Sarah into the entrance of the gas station.
Joel was definitely going to go off on you now that the kids were gone. You held your breath as you got out of the car, leaning against the hood of the vehicle as Joel stood by the pump, his eyes fixed on his vehicle.
“I can’t tell you just how sorry I am. About not reaching out to you to go out sometime, and for having to ask you so last minute to take us to the tournament. I’ve just been absolutely swamped with work, and Natha-“
“You’re fine,” Joel cut you off as he acknowledged your apology, keeping his gaze trained on the car. Here it comes. “You don’t need to apologize. Sometimes life just throws a bunch of shit at us at once.”
You nodded in agreement, your breathing picking up as you waited for the condescension or lecture to begin. Yet… it never came. You weren’t sure if he was as upset as you suspected, but Joel was certainly feeling more than he was willing to let on. The lack of eye contact and his slightly off responses told you that much. 
“Is everything okay?” you finally asked, trailing off. “You’ve barely said a word all trip.”
“Everything is fine. I’m just tired,” he rubbed his forehead with his hand. 
“Well, if you’re tired, I can drive us the rest of the way over and you can sleep. That way you’ll be rested for the game,” you offered, taking a daring step towards him, and setting your hand on his bicep—a peace treaty of sorts. And maybe a hint that you were still interested in whatever sparks had been evident before. 
Joel immediately stiffened under your touch, and subtly rejected the motion. He glanced over at you for just a moment before looking back down at the gas pump and shut his eyes. “That’d be great. I’m really exhausted.”
While you could believe that maybe Joel was just tired, there had to be more to the story. The way he rejected your subtle touch and the way he just couldn’t seem to meet your eyes told you that much. Perhaps you underestimated just how hurt he was by you not making plans with him, although it wasn’t like he’d reached out to you to set something up. In fact, the last time you heard from him was the night before the girls’ game following their team dinner.
“Of course. Go ahead and get back in the car, I can take everything from here.”
The rest of the ride wasn’t too long, but you were happy to contribute after asking for such a last minute favor. You drove straight to the grounds that the team was playing on that afternoon, as you were already pushing it on time, and certainly did not have time to go check into your hotel yet.
Your kids jogged off to greet their team and warm up with them, leaving you alone with Joel once again as you grabbed fold-out chairs from the back of his truck. 
“You feeling any better now after sleeping?” you asked, turning to look at him and inspect his face for any suspicious expressions.
“Yeah, definitely,” he affirmed, but his words didn’t exactly match what it was you had observed. He closed his trunk and began to walk away, and you followed after him, feeling a bit like a lost puppy.
“Joel, really. You can tell me what’s wrong,” you practically pleaded, part of you still waiting for the moment he would tell you off.
“I already told you,” his tone was defensive, and when he turned back to look at you, the agitation was clearly painted on his face. “Nothing is wrong.”
You were taken aback, but understood that you had crossed some sort of boundary in your continuous pressing of what was wrong. You felt more like a kicked puppy than a lost one as you walked out to the fields behind Joel, setting your chair up close to him, but with a little more distance between the two of you than what you would have preferred. 
You didn’t talk much during the game, outside of cheering for your daughters and momentarily celebrating when one of them pulled something impressive off. 
Although you didn’t interact much, it still felt nice to be back at a game after being gone for the past few weeks. And honestly, it felt even more nice to be back in Joel’s presence after those weeks, even if it was clear that something had shifted between the two of you. 
When the second game began, you were surprised to come back from your short leg-stretch walk to find another chair placed next to Joel’s—and a woman happily chatting his ear off.
A pang of jealousy struck your gut as you observed the two of them. It was no secret that most of the moms (and some of the dads) on the team (and other teams) saw the same things in Joel that you did. But you had absolutely no right to feel jealous, considering the way you’d basically led him on, and you had absolutely no reason to believe that there was anything romantic going on between them.
But you felt unwell anyway. 
You urged yourself not to look at them for too long, instead focusing on the game in front of you, but the sounds of their voices and the way their conversation easily flowed was far too distracting. Just the rotten cherry on top of an already shitty day. 
You felt ridiculous and childish sitting there with jealousy burning deeply in your stomach as you mentally ran through all of the things you could have done differently. Maybe if you’d texted Joel the night of your dinner and found a day where you both weren’t busy to go out together, or if you’d just said no to taking on a few extra hours, you’d be the one giggling and playing with your hair as you chatted up Joel.
It was official: you couldn’t torture yourself with staying one more moment with the two of them. Instead, you shot out of your uncomfortable little chair, and hauled your jealous little ass over to the concession stand. If you couldn’t go back in time and fix all the mistakes you’d made leading up to today, at least you could stuff your face full of peanut M&Ms until you felt better.  
As you focused on tearing the yellow plastic with a little more force than what was necessary, you completely missed Alice—one of the more gossipy mothers on the team—approaching you. 
“Hey babe,” she greeted cheerily. “We haven’t seen you in a few weeks. Where’ve you been?” 
Your mouth was currently filled with candy, so it took you a second to respond. “Work,” you said in between chewing. “I barely had time to breathe, let alone bring Chloe to her games, so I had to basically beg on my knees for a little help from her father. Speaking of which, how was Nathan?”
“Oh,” Alice paused and looked off to the side, a little too guiltily for your liking. “Yeah, he was fine.”
“Are you sure?” you asked, brows furrowed at her strange reaction. 
“Yeah! He was great. It’s just…” she trailed off and offered you an awkward smile. “We thought you two were maybe back together. You know, with the whole co-parenting thing.”
Your eye twitched. So the parents of the team were gossiping and theorizing about your love life. Great. That’s probably what was wrong with Joel—word had gotten back to him that you and Nathan were playing house again. No wonder he was putting such distance between you. 
“Babe,” you tried not to let the annoyance you were experiencing reflect too much into your tone, “why would you tell people we were back together? Bringing your own child to their sports events is not exactly groundbreaking or relationship material.”
You were now gritting your teeth as the irritation really started to sink in. Joel probably didn’t reach out to you for your date since these fucking real housewives you were surrounded by had decided to spread baseless rumors about you from the moment your ex had stepped onto the sideline. 
You were wrong. This was the rotten cherry on top of the absolute dogshit milkshake of a day you’d had. 
“I’m sorry,” Alice didn’t sound as remorseful as you wish she did. You knew that deep down, she was enjoying this little game and would be more than happy to spread this information back to her friends. “I shouldn’t have assumed.”
“It’s fine, the damage is done,” you sighed, shoving a handful of candy in your mouth. 
“Have you seen Joel and Cindy, though? They’re so cute together!”
It was now clearer than ever that Alice was only interacting with you to stir the pot, so you simply put on the best fake smile you could muster and nodded. “Adorable. Now if you don’t mind, I’m gonna go sit back down. I haven’t seen Chloe play in a few weeks, and she was doing so well in the last game, I’m sure she’s doing great now too!”
You didn’t wait for a response before walking off, attempting to suppress all of the feelings you were having with this new information you’d been given. In the three weeks you’d been gone, Alice had convinced the team that you and Nathan were back together, and Joel had already moved on. If you hadn’t cared so much about Chloe’s passions, you would’ve had her quit on the spot. You simply could not handle any more of this soccer parent culture. 
Sitting back down in your seat, you offered Joel an M&M, to which he politely declined. You wondered if there was a way for you to casually explain that you and Nathan were not and would not ever be an item again, but then again, it seemed like with Cindy in the picture, the ship of making anything work with you two had sailed. 
You attempted to focus on your daughter, who unsurprisingly was doing quite well in the game. You were glad that no matter how shitty your day was turning out, your kin was at least having a better day—and having fun doing it.
You simply went through the motions through the rest of the day, squeezing your daughter tight with a hug when all of the games for the day were finished and telling Sarah about how great of a job she did, then falling back into a somewhat uncomfortable silence on your drive to the hotel. 
Checking in had proved to be… a bit of an odd situation. As you pocketed your room keys, Chloe made an odd offer—her and Sarah would share a room while you and Joel would share your own. 
It shouldn’t have surprised you as much as it did when your daughters proposed that you and Joel share a room so that they could have a sleepover, but it caught you off guard regardless. 
You were hesitant for several obvious reasons, but their room was adjoined to yours, and there was a perfectly nice pull-out bed in the sofa, which meant there was absolutely no need to share a bed with Joel. After some consideration and discussion with the man who would be your roommate for the night, you ultimately settled on allowing it. You would take the sofa. Joel would take the bed.
Besides, it’s not like he’d be spending the majority of the night in the room. After a short conversation, he was getting dressed and going off to dinner with Cindy. 
You tried not to feel bad for yourself for too long. You’d already spent the majority of the day feeling bad for yourself, whether it was for the shitty situations you found yourself in, or the way the moms on your team treated your love life like their favorite reality show.
Knocking on the door adjacent to your own, you were happy to see Chloe crack open her door. 
“Hi girls,” you greeted. “What do you say to a pajama party?”
“Yes!” Chloe squealed, swinging her door wide open. Conveniently, they were already dressed the part, and were seemingly ready to wind down after a long day of physical activity. 
After ordering an absurd amount of room service and having nothing short of a feast with your favorite pre-teens, the three of you sat on the floor under a blanket fort you’d constructed as you played Uno with some random network romcom playing in the background. 
It felt like after a long day of holding your breath, you could finally let go of it, winding down with your two favorite children.
“Do you feel like you had a good day today?” you asked, placing a green three on top of the pile of cards. 
“Yeah! I missed having you and my dad together at our games,” Sarah remarked, drawing a card. 
Chloe nodded in agreement, setting down one of her own cards. “You really spice up our games. I think Joel yells a little louder at us when you’re here. He was pretty quiet when dad was bringing me.”
You tried not to let your emotions show on your face too much in front of the children, but it was undeniably sweet that you being around brightened Joel’s light, even now, when things were a little more awkward between the two of you. You simply hummed as you set down your card.
“Yeah, he kept asking me if I knew where you were,” Sarah drew a card then placed the card back down on the pile. “I think he missed you.”
So maybe Joel wasn’t as mad at you as you thought he was. Asking where you were had to be a good sign, right? Maybe it really just boiled down to him thinking you were back together with your ex-husband, and him not wanting to cross any boundaries. 
“I think you’re our good luck charm. Did you see how well we played today?” Chloe asked, discarding a card. “Uno.”
“I think you guys are just good,” you set down a card. “Uno.”
“I dunno, when you were gone we kept losing,” Sarah set down a skip, causing Chloe to exclaim in frustration. 
“Our friendship is over,” Chloe announced to Sarah for what must’ve been the third time that night. 
“Mean it this time?” she teased. 
“I swear!” the pair broke out into giggles as you set down your final card. 
“We need to team up on you! How is it that you keep winning?” Sarah asked, pointing an accusatory finger at you. 
“She’s a dirty cheater,” Chloe tutted. “Just ask her why we don’t play Monopoly anymore. Right, mom?”
“Hey!” you exclaimed. “It was a rough patch. I keep winning Uno because you two keep targeting each other. What happened to team work?”
“No such thing in Uno,” Sarah shrugged. 
You laughed aloud, feeling some of your stress melting away with the motion, “you guys are too funny.”
Chloe yawned and reached for the pile in the middle of your little circle. “You can’t compliment your way out of this, cheater.”
“Ugh, whatever. I didn’t realize I raised such a sore loser.”
“Takes one to know one!” Chloe jeered. 
“Sure,” you chuckled. “Well, I think it's this cheater’s bedtime. Can I help you guys undo the pillow fort?”
The girls agreed, and you helped take down the mess of blankets, chairs, and pillows as they began to wind down and settle into bed.
“Goodnight, girls,” you bid farewell as you approached the adjoining door. “If you need anything, just come on over, okay? Sweet dreams,” you blew kisses to both of them before going back over to your side of the room.
When you made it back to your room, Joel was already in bed, the soft light of the television illuminating his face in the otherwise dark room. The light from the screen and his pajamas were doing him all sorts of favors, making him look like he walked straight out of your domestic fantasy. 
“When did you get back?” you asked as you grabbed your phone charger from your bag and approached the pull-out bed. 
“Like, an hour ago,” he shrugged, leaning back against the headboard. 
“You should’ve come over and played Uno with us,” you suggested, attempting to get cozy in your makeshift bed as you pulled the threadbare hotel blanket over your legs. “We had a little fort and everything.”
“Didn’t wanna intrude on your girls’ night,” he mumbled sleepily, hugging a pillow as he adjusted himself in bed.
“We would’ve been happy to have you,” you muttered, trying your best to relax in the rather uncomfortable makeshift bed.
Joel simply grunted in response, his eyes now shut. You could only assume that sleep set in quickly, and you’d now lost him to dreamland.  
You stared up at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep. Part of you wished that this whole day was just an awful dream, and that you’d wake up the morning after the team dinner at Joel’s house, able to do everything all over again. 
Rolling onto your side, you hoped that the shitty pull-out bed would become even slightly more comfortable, but your hope was to no avail. You sighed softly and closed your eyes, wondering if you started counting sheep, if it’d be any easier to fall asleep.
About fifteen sheep in, Joel’s soft voice calling your name pulled you out of whatever sleepy daze you’d been in. 
“Hey, are you sleeping yet?” he practically whispered. 
“No,” you responded, voice far above a whisper. “The floor would probably be more comfortable than this.”
“I told you you shouldn’t have taken the pull-out bed,” he goaded.
“You wanna get down here and sleep on it for me?”
“No. Well… Would it help you sleep better?”
“Joel,” you huffed.
“I shouldn’t have asked,” you listened as the bedsheets began to rustle.
“No, no, don’t do that. Your body needs an actual bed after all that hard manual labor you do. Lay back down.”
“Not if you can’t fall asleep because of that shitty bed. Trust me, I’ve slept in worse conditions.”
“Just because you can doesn’t mean you should. Now I’m going to sleep. Goodnight.”
Joel paused for a second, and you assumed he’d finally given up. Good.
Until he called your name once again. “Come up here and get a good night’s rest.”
“No,” you argued, though your sleepy brain was practically begging you to move to the comfier location. “You need it more than me.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
You snickered, “whatever you want it to mean.”
Silence on his end once again. Time to start herding your sheep. 
“Why don’t we just share? There’s probably room for three of me on this bed.”
A bold proposition from a man who got back from a date only a few hours ago. A bold proposition that you were probably a bit too enthusiastic to take. 
“Fine,” you huffed. “Only to get you off my ass.”
Every part of your body was thanking you as you slipped out of the shitty couch-bed and padded over to the empty side of the real bed. Tentatively, you got in bed and under the sheets, making sure to keep yourself on your side and keeping your back facing his.
“Goodnight, Joel.” you finally whispered. 
“Goodnight,” he softly said your name, and you imagined the look on his face. Maybe in a different world, one where you’d gone on a date with him when the offer was on the table, you’d be in bed with him without the argument, with his arm wrapped around your waist as he wrapped you in a warm embrace, or with him hovering above you as you attempted to keep quiet in a hotel filled with guests who were more than willing to speculate about you.
It was nice to have someone in bed with you again. Even if all you had was the heat radiating off of the man next to you, and the sound of his deep breaths as he fell deeper and deeper into sleep. Despite all that had gone wrong in the day, and whatever Joel’s situation was with his date, somehow laying in bed with someone else made you feel at ease.
You didn’t have to count any more sheep to fall asleep that night. 
When you woke up, Joel was already out of bed, pulling on a hat and slipping on his shoes. “Oh good, you’re awake,” he commented as you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes. “Wanna get complimentary breakfast before it goes away?”
You stretched out as you listened to the proposition, wondering if the phantom feeling of an arm around your waist during the night was real or just a dream. “You know me so well.”
Somehow, the tension between the two of you didn’t feel so heavy that morning. Maybe sleeping in bed together had helped to break the ice, or maybe some other variable was at play. Regardless, you were happy to feel like your relationship had gone back to what it had been a month ago, even if Joel really was beginning to form something with Cindy. 
The hotel lobby wasn’t too busy when you and Joel went down. You were certainly grateful, as the fact that you had just rolled out of bed and gone to breakfast was more than obvious to anyone who’d looked at you for more than two seconds. 
You were stirring endless circles into your coffee when Joel sat down across from you, sighing as he leaned back into his chair. 
“Sleep well?” he asked before taking a hearty sip of his own coffee. 
You held back a laugh and exchanged it for the slightest hint of a smile. If only he knew just how well you slept. “I guess,” you admitted. “I always sleep well in hotel beds.”
You were completely uncertain of how to address the bed-sized elephant in the room, or if it was even a good idea to do so. But the lack of coffee in your system and the remnants of sleep clouding your brain had lowered your inhibitions significantly, causing the next words to tumble out of your mouth. 
“Thank you for letting me join you,” you involuntarily held your breath after saying so, too afraid to openly wait for his reaction. 
“Of course,” he hummed, beginning to stab at some of the food on his plate. “I couldn’t just let you break your back on that couch-bed.”
“Well I appreciate it,” you began to pick at some of your own food, the two of you falling into a far more comfortable silence. Obviously something had shifted between the time of the game and now, but you couldn’t quite place it. Since you were already in the mood to address elephants in the room, you had no issue blurting, “How was your date last night?”
“Date?” Joel looked up from his scrambled eggs with a furrowed brow. 
“With Cindy? From the other team?” you took a bite of toast and didn’t back down from the loaded eye contact going on between the two of you.
“Well, it wasn’t a date. Cindy’s married. Happily, I might add. Just catching up with a family friend.”
You were slightly taken aback, but not necessarily in a bad way. Suddenly, you felt silly for all the energy you’d wasted the day prior feeling jealous and bad for yourself, when you didn’t even know the full story.
“Well, what about Nathan? Is he a family friend?” it came out defensive, and you couldn’t particularly blame him for it. Finally some proof that this was what that weird tension had been all about. 
Maybe if your mind was slightly more clear, you’d find it cute that you were both a little jealous over each other. Maybe you really hadn’t thrown away your chance at this thing the way you’d thought you did.  
“No! I told you, I’ve been swamped with work. Like, getting home so late that I only see Chloe in the mornings and when I tuck her into bed, late. She needed to go to her games, and I knew there was only one person I could possibly guilt trip into bringing her. But I would rather marry the actual incarnation of Satan himself before spending another day with her father.”
“Oh,” Joel said quietly, lifting his disposable cup to his lips and seeming rather deep in thought.
“But you thought I was with him this whole time?”
“I guess?”
“And you still invited me into your bed?” you pressed, a hint of amusement in your voice.
“There was nothing inherently romantic or… sexual about that. I just didn’t want you to wake up in pain,” he set down his cup, but continued staring you down.
You shrugged. Solid answer, although you certainly wouldn’t be opposed to either alternative scenarios. 
“But even if there was, it’s only because you deserve better than that man. And from what I’ve seen, pretty much any man is better than him.”
“Including you?” you pressed. 
“What do you think?” the little smirk he was obviously trying to fight only egged you on. 
“I think I agree with you. Except, I don’t love that you just assumed something about my relationship status because one of those human rumor mills told you it. Next time, you wait until you hear it from me, okay?”
“I normally would’ve, I guess I’m just so used to things not working out with me, my brain was just looking for a reason why this wouldn’t work out either.”
“To be fair, not contacting you after saying I’d go out with you is pretty solid grounds for thinking we wouldn’t work out. But at least let me take you on a date before we try to figure out if we’ll work out or not.”
“You still want to go on that date?” Joel asked, sounding more astonished than you would’ve expected. 
“What do you think?” you winked, tossing his words right back at him. 
Just as your exchange began to wrap up, you were joined by two sleepy kids, who most certainly heard part of your conversation about going on a date. You couldn’t even bother with feeling mortified, too high on the knowledge that you had yet another shot with Joel. 
“How was your sleepover?” you asked the girls without missing a beat. 
“Fun. We missed you, though,” Chloe sighed as she buttered up a bagel. 
“Yeah, Uno’s not the same without you,” Sarah added as she began to cut up her pancakes. 
“I’m flattered, girls. We’ll have to have an Uno tournament sometime and get Joel on it too. Mostly so he can witness me beating everyone’s ass at it.”
“Language, mom. And we all know you’re a cheater.”
“Keep telling yourself that, sweetie.”
“I don’t know, I kinda believe it,” Joel teased. 
“Not you too, Joel! You’re supposed to be on my side,” you laughed. 
Your table fell into comfortable conversation for the rest of breakfast before you had to send the girls off to go get ready for their games. You almost wanted to pinch yourself to check if you were still dreaming after waking up in this domestic paradise following the terrible day you’d had yesterday, but even if it was a dream, you weren’t sure you wanted to wake up.
The rest of the tournament went smoothly, with the ice sufficiently broken between you and Joel, and you even joining in on his conversations with Cindy as the three of you sat together. The girls’ team ultimately won, leading to some very happy passengers as you drove back home. As you exited Joel’s car, you gave him a soft kiss on the cheek and a whispered promise of going out with him soon. To think, when you’d started your weekend, you never would have believed it would end in this manner. 
——
“Mom, hurry!” Chloe yelled up the stairs at you, sounding a little more impatient than what you would’ve liked. 
You could understand where she was coming from. Following the end of the soccer season, Joel had been quite busy, and Chloe hadn’t been able to see her closest friend outside of school hours for quite some time. If you were Chloe, you’d probably be anxious to see Sarah too.
Hurrying down the stairs with a newfound sense of urgency, you gave your daughter a little side hug. 
“I’m sorry, sweetie,” you apologized, understanding her urgency a little too well.
“Don’t be sorry. Just be efficient,” she pulled away from you and checked out your clothing. Sure, it was 6 PM and you were already in your pajamas. Sue you for wanting to come back home after a long day at work and put on your softest cat-printed pajama pants. “That’s a good outfit.”
“Oh, thank you. I was actually invited to Paris Fashion Week, but-“
“You can tell me in the car!” she exclaimed as she scurried off, with you following behind the little slippery bastard. 
In the car, Chloe seemed to be acting a little… suspicious. Although, you didn’t pay much mind to it, making small talk on the short drive over to her friend’s house. Her friend whose father you still hadn’t found time to go out with. 
“Oh yeah, being here reminded me that Joel had something to tell you,” Chloe announced as you pulled into their driveway. “Come in with me?”
By now, you were slightly suspicious, but the idea of having some sort of confrontation by Joel about you not following through on your word once again overrode your suspicions of your child. 
As Chloe rang the doorbell, Sarah swung the door open, smiling at her friend, then up at you. 
“Hi, come on in!” she said sweetly, opening the door all the way and leading you inside. 
As you walked in, your eyes caught on a makeshift pillow fort—one that oddly resembled the one you’d helped the girls make during their tournament. Cute.
“My dad’s inside. He wants to talk to you. See you later, bye!” Sarah talked quickly, and even quicker than her speech, she disappeared up the stairs with your daughter.
Something was definitely up.
You approached the fort with trepidation, and slowly pulled up a flap, where you found Joel dressed similarly to you in a loose shirt and plaid pajama pants, comfortably splayed out on his back while he seemed to be playing Candy Crush on his phone. 
“Oh, hey,” you said awkwardly. “The girls said you wanted to talk to me?” 
“Oh, hey,” he parroted back, seeming even more taken aback by your presence as he immediately sat up. “Uh, I actually didn’t know you were coming over?”
Oh.
It was always something with your kids. They knew how to scheme, and they knew how to scheme well.
“That’s fine,” you laughed to yourself about the situation. “I was gonna head out anyway. It was good to see you, and for the record, you clean up pretty well,” you teased, alluding to your similar mid-evening pajamas. 
“Wait!” he said quickly, nearly cutting you off. “Sorry, wait. Don’t go yet. Unless you have somewhere else to be…?”
You shook your head and shrugged. 
“I mean, obviously our kids set us up again, but we also haven’t followed through on that date yet. So maybe we can do it now?”
“Maybe,” you hummed as you sat down next to him on a mountain of pillows. “What would you want to do?” you asked, gently tapping his leg with your fuzzy-sock clad foot. (Chloe didn’t need to know that what was taking you so long was finding these god-forsaken socks.)
“Well, I’ve been wanting to take you out to some snobby, fancy restaurant,” he began. 
“Oh?” you voiced, brows raised. 
“But I don’t really think that’s either of our speeds.”
“Agreed. I don’t know where you’re going with this, but I’m liking it so far.”
“We also probably shouldn’t leave the girls home alone at night,” he continued to think out loud, his soft eyes never leaving your own. You almost felt like you were caught in a trance by them. 
“So what do you suggest we do, Joel?” you asked. 
“Well, we have this wonderful pillow fort already at our disposal. Maybe we can order some food and watch a movie?”
“I think sitting in a pillow fort while eating food and watching a movie is my love language. That sounds lovely.”
You two smiled at each other, and you could hear your heartbeat pound in your ears as a warm feeling filled your chest. It had been far too long since you’d felt any semblance of this feeling.
An abundance of Thai food and an argument over what movie to watch later, you were curled up like a cat beside Joel admiring the look of his face under the lighting of the fairy lights that were hung up throughout the little fort. 
“Ugh, why haven’t we done this sooner?” you asked, lifting your head out of the dip of his shoulder. 
“We’re both too busy,” he murmured, looking away from the television screen to look over at you. 
“I’ll literally take sick time off just to do this again,” you remarked. 
“I think that’s just the Thai food talking.”
“It was fucking amazing.”
“Told you.”
“But it’s not just the Thai food. I really like you a lot, Joel. I like spending time with you. I like talking to you and arguing about whether a shitty romcom or shitty action movie is better. I like doing mundane shit with you, like putting up fairy lights in a fort to enhance our ‘fort experience’. I like cuddling with you. Has anyone ever told you that you’re basically a human furnace? Anyway, I hate the fact that our daughters had to make an elaborate scheme just to get us together. I wanna make more time for you, because you deserve it. But like, only if you also wanna spend more time with me,” you confessed. 
“Of course I want to spend more time with you. And in the spirit of honesty, I really do have the time, sometimes. I guess I just worry that you wouldn’t want to spend your free time with me.”
“Joel, I would sit and watch paint dry on a wall if you were there with me. From the moment you entered my life, you’ve made everything a little better. If I have the time, I’m never gonna say no to being with you.”
He paused for a moment as he seemed to process that information, only coming back with a quiet, “Can I kiss you?”
You grabbed his cheeks and kissed him like no one you’d ever kissed before. It felt like the Fourth of July in your stomach as a moment you felt you’d been waiting for all your life finally came to fruition. 
By the time you pulled away, you were breathless and felt warm all over. You could go out on a limb and say that as far as dates go, this one was pretty successful, and to think, if it wasn’t for your daughters’ intervention, none of this would’ve happened. 
Yeah, you definitely needed to treat them to something.
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auratux · 7 months
Note
HII
Can we have soft sex w Alhaitham, itto, diluc, Childe and zhongli ?? (Either like drabbles or hcs whichever you prefer)
HELLO <3 i loved writing this so much and I hope you enjoy!! cw: established relationships, fluff (fluffy sex I love it) angst (semi), cockwarming (kinda || childe is just angsty for some reason LMAO), praise kink || unedited/ not proofread !
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alhaitham
"I love you," Alhaitham mutters against your lips, the pads of his fingers dragging lazily down the small of your back to the top of your ass.
The morning light peeked through the beige curtains that covered the windows - the binding doing minimal work as the rays could still penetrate the room.
alhaitham's hips move at a slow pace that seemed like he wasn't moving at all - his grip on your body tight that he was afraid you'd leave this moment if he didn't hold on.
"i love you too," you mutter back, your fingers twirling the silver hairs at the nape of his neck.
small noises and noncoherent noises match with the gentle rut of his hips.
alhaitham had woken up before you and watched as you slept. the golden rays of the sun laid upon your face, the light highlighting all your features that made them stand out.
he took in every aspect.
the curve of your nose to the apple of your cheeks, outlining your lips to your chin.
perfection.
"god you're so beautiful," he gasps out, relishing in the way your cunt squeezes him tightly as if you were trying to keep him in. "You're perfect in every way," his hand trails up to your nape, pressing your foreheads together.
his orbs bore into your own, his eyes holding nothing but adoration and love. he absolutely enjoyed mornings like this with you. being able to show his love for you right off the bat was something he loved.
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itto
his lips press against yours in a gentle yet sloppy kiss, his tongue protruding your lips in a way of asking permission.
large hands grab at your waist, his nails barely poking your skin but enough to have chills sent up your spine.
the tip of his cock nudges at your sweet spot over and over again- the pleasuring starting to overwhelm you, but you wanted more.
you wanted more of him.
and he wanted all of you.
"i need you," itto mutters into your ear, his arm wrapping around your body. the oni brings you closer to his chest, your nipples brushing against his chest, the stimulation making you whine.
"itto," you whimper, your fingers tangling into his locks, giving it a gentle tug and loving the noise he let out in response. "I need you... i need more.
"I know baby," he coos, his nose burrowing into the crook of your neck, taking a whiff of your smell. his pace slows down - his hips stilled despite your whines of protest for him to move but you're quick to be silenced when you feel his lips press on your forehead.
he wants to wreck you and have you cry his name for everyone to hear, but this time is different.
he wants nothing more than to worship you and make everything all about you. your needs are more important to him than anything and everything in the world.
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diluc
no words were exchanged between you and your husband. the only words that were needed were the unspoken words of your bodies becoming one.
Diluc's arms are on both sides of your head, his lips pressed up against yours in a soft kiss. pieces of his hair came undone from his ponytail, the tresses tickling the side of your face that cause you to let out a small noise in amusement, and his face lets out the faintest smile.
your legs are wrapped around him, bringing him closer than what he was now and even more, if that was possible.
his cock was hugged by your walls in the most delicious way that he wishes he could just live and bask in this feeling for the rest of his life.
his body rubbed against yours with every pump of his hips - his lips swallowed every noise you let out.
tiny whines, heavy breathing and his favorite of all - his name rolling off your tongue in a melodious way.
he absolutely loved the way you called for him. whether it was doing regular tasks around your home and you needed his help, or when he would enter a room. or his favorite by far, the way you'd call out to him and hold him close when your bodies joined and proved your love to one another.
no words were needed during this moment, only your hearts and love for each other.
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childe
cerulean hues gleam with the glossy tears that threaten to fall. The faintest bit of red under his eyelashes begins to show. childe buries his head in your neck, his grip on your body never letting go.
"I'm here," you whisper, your fingernail trailing up and down the nape of his neck, holding him close to you "I'm never leaving."
childe's hips remain still, unable to focus on pleasuring you when the thoughts of you abandoning him or something horrible that could possibly happen circulate his mind.
"but what if something were to happen.. I could never live with myself. what if I lose control one day and I hurt you? kill you?"
"Childe.."
"what if they kill you?" he whispers, eyes slightly wide in shock, imagining the very scenario.
"hey," your tone holds some assertiveness that it catches his attention. "I'm not going anywhere. I trust you with my life."
"You mean it?"
of course you meant it. you meant everything you said to the man. your reassurance was all he needed in his vulnerable moment. it wasn't the first time this has happened - but you were there for all the other times. after awhile, he was finally able to calm down and was determined to show you how much you meant to him.
childe's hips move at a very slow pace, his lips never leaving your neck as he places millions of small kisses. With each kiss he mumbled the words 'i love you' and now you were brought to tears.
soft moans and whimpers come from you as you mumble back sweet words of love for only his ears. your fingers dance up and down his bare back, the point of your nail digging slightly into his porcelain skin, the prick causing a shiver to go down his back.
"you're so amazing," you whisper, your spare hand cupping his cheek. sweat glistened on your forehead - yet you looked like an angel shining underneath him. "I love you so much."
"i love you more, my love."
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zhongli
"z-zhongli" you moan out, your fingers digging into his shoulders, feeling his muscles contract underneath your touch. "feels so good.."
"i know," he grunts, inhaling sharply when you ground onto him, your pretty cunt tightening around him every time you went down on him.
his slender fingers hold your waist, keeping your body in close proximity to his. your clit brushes against him, the friction causing a new sensation to chart through your body.
a sharp cry emits from your lips, your arms now thrown around his neck. his grip tightens on you, shifting his lower body to sit in a more comfortable position.
"you're doing so well," he mutters into your ear, nibbling at the shell. "so pretty.. so beautiful.. my beautiful," his lips press against your cheek, helping you roll your hips on him.
your face warms at his comment.
it wasn't out of the ordinary for him to compliment you like this. In fact he did it on a daily - almost hourly. yet, it always catches you off guard and throws you in a spiral where you get giddy.
"i'm so lucky to have you," the corner of his lips curls upward slightly, his knuckle brushing against the soft skin of your face. "you make me so incredibly happy."
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