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#she doesn't feel too comfortable like this
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Not How We Are - LN
Request from @dannorris - Can you make something like fight/arguing with lando yk something like " flinch during the fight" but let's make it fluff what do you think?
Ok i said no angst but this is the last angst request im taking and it’s only bc its going to be the briefest angst and then fluffy.
No part 2 requests please
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Y/n really didn’t know how to tell Lando. If there was a way to blame it one someone else then she would. God she would absolutely blame a different person and feign innocence.
But smashing into a bollard with his McLaren is hardly an excusable offence. He might even just throw her in front of the car and run her over with it as a way to inform her that the relationship is in fact over.
The car is drivable, but scratched and dinted. Which isn't good since that McLaren is his baby, it's a not a cheap fix and even if he gets it fixed for free. He isn't going to be happy because he'll probably have to send it off to be fixed properly.
She’s actually broke out in a sweat just going upstairs and her clammy palms are even stressing her out more.
He’d told her to take the McLaren out when she said she needed to go out because it’s been a while since he had gone out in it. Really y/n has been trusted in all his cars and never had an issue. But something tells her that won’t be a trust she has again for a long time and he may just never trust her in most of his cars again.
Y/n swallows back thickly as she walks into the apartment.
"Baby?!" Lando calls out immediately making her almost cry. "Baby?"
Y/n silently walks into the sim/gaming room where he's set up on the sim, practicing ahead of Australia.
"Hey, come sit." Lando smiles but he suddenly notices her body language and practically scrambles up. "Baby, what's wrong?"
"I'm sorry." Y/n murmurs then rubbing her hands on her jeans again.
"Sorry? Sorry for what? Baby, what's happened?"
"I hit a bollard...with the McLaren." Y/n chokes out making Lando go frigid. "I'm sorry, it was an accident. I-I was just trying to get out the parking space and the bollard appeared out of nowhere."
"No, you just weren't paying attention." Lando mutters then sighing looking like he's trying to keep himself calm while she feels her body begin to tremble. "Jesus Christ. Show me the damage then."
The last thing she wanted to do even before he knew was to show him the damage but now she's got to.
"O-Ok." She nods and they head down to the garage.
They get down and Lando looks like he's in a rage. Understandably.
Someone might say it's just a car and he's rich enough to fix it, but that doesn't change the fact she broke it in the first place and he trusted her with it.
Y/n tries to at least remain sympathetic and comfort him over her stupidity because she knows she's at fault and she's taking responsibility for it.
"I'm really sorry, Lan-"
"Sorry isn't going to fix the fucking car, y/n!" Lando exclaims making her almost flinch back so much she trips and just manages to stumble to save herself.
In an instant Lando feels his heart drop realising what just happened. He actually just scared y/n. He scared his own girlfriend and she very obviously had already felt bad about the matter. He achieved nothing by shouting, she felt guilty already. Scaring her just made him an asshole about something that could be fixed.
"I-I know. I'm sorry, I-"
"No. Fuck. No. Baby, I'm sorry. I-...It can be fixed. It's going to be fine." Lando states rushing forward and feeling a relief that she doesn't flinch back at him again. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, it's fine. It's just a car. I could buy a while new one if I wanted and I told you to drive it it. So this is on me."
"You didn't expect me to hit a bollard though."
"No...but you didn't do it on purpose." Lando smiles lightly trying to emphasise that it really is ok. "I'm sorry for shouting. It wasn't ok."
"You were mad...I knew you would me. I would be too." Y/n mumbles then looking down at the car. "I'd offer to pay for it but I think we'd have to set up an instalment plan for the next 30 years...and that might not even be enough."
"Don't even think about it." Lando dismisses quickly, not even following her gaze to look at the car, just remaining focused on her. "Do you know what we need?"
"A ban on my license?"
"Baby..." Lando frowns lightly then rubbing her sides gently. "McDonald's?"
Y/n brightens just at the mention of fast food since she tries to keep away from it so as to not tempt Lando. Plus the amount she'd happily eat food was great.
"I am driving though." Lando smiles earning a nod from the young woman. "You get as much off the menu as you'd like."
-
Lando manages to feed y/n so full of McDonald's that she was practically comatose as she lies on top of him. Her face pressed into his chest while he tries to figure out what he needs to do to get the car fixed.
He ends up getting directed to the right people after talking to Zak for help to get the car schedule for a pick up and then flown back to England for a repair.
While he's on the phone he can feel y/n beginning to fidget and nuzzle her head heard against him. He rubs her back gently while talking and explaining the issue before she rubs her face into his chest. But eventually the plans are made and he sighs hanging up and wrapping his arms around her.
"Baby..." Lando whispers moving down to kiss the top of her head. "I love you."
"I love you too." Y/n mumbles then moving to look up at him. "I'm still sorry."
"I owe you more of an apology than you owe to me." Lando sighs earning a frown. "I love you...and you can slap me if I ever talk to you like I did again. In fact you should slap me if I do it again."
"I'm not going to slap you...I already smashed your car." Y/n smiles before sighing. "I am banning myself from driving anymore."
"Well I'm not going to enforce that but...I'm not going to force you to drive either." Lando smiles making her sigh and nod. "Would you not want to drive the Land Rover?"
Y/n has been talking about how she loves his new Land Rover than he paid a lot of money to get all done up.
"No...I might hit a pedestrian and run them over." Y/n mumbles then sighing softly. "I'll just wait a bit before I drive again."
"Ok, if that's what you'd prefer." Lando smiles then rubbing his hands up and down her back. "Do you want to nap and then...we can have a spa night?"
Lando usually has to be talked into spa nights, but there's no denying he loves seeing y/n so happy. She spends the whole night with a smile just painted on her face.
"Face masks and bubble bath?" Y/n gasps looking at him in excitement.
"Whatever you want." Lando nods earning a grin before she leans forward kissing him only for him to dodge it and immediately earn a pout. "I have one condition."
"Which is..."
"You have to be in the next Quadrant merch shoot...You always model stuff so well."
"Mmm...fine." Y/n agrees since she actually likes being involved in Quadrant and Lando wanting her to be involved with it is definitely a green flag that her actions today haven't actually created a secret hatred from Lando to her.
Taglist: @namgification @hiireadstuff @jsjcue @geniusalpaca @itsjustkhaos @llando4norris @partyinpitlane @lpab @xoscar03 @harrysdimple05 @mellowarcadefun @cixrosie @scopeiguess @racingheartsposts @c-losur3
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undressrehearsal · 2 days
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dare to fuck this up
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summary: ever since your last game of truth or dare ellie's been avoiding you and it's time for an intervention
tags: NSFW, tlou au, college!ellie/reader, mentions of drugs and alcohol (not used), oral (e receiving), fingering (r receiving), finger riding (r receiving), little bit of angst, afab reader, the knee thing
a/n: this took me 2 months cause i work full time and it's 10k words so. enjoy (thank u for all the love on part 1! <3) also for anyone who doesn't know the tiktok dance i mentioned i linked it. don't look under the sound you'll spend way too long watching hot women dance
part 1
You hadn't talked about it. 
You had woken up the next morning, the sun blinding you from the window that was still left open. A cold autumn breeze ruffled your curtains, pricking at your bare skin. With one foot still in a dream, you'd groaned, turning over and pulling your blanket over your head. You had burrowed your head into your pillow - it still smelled earthy, rich with cologne and the faintest smell of weed. It had made your nose wrinkle only briefly, before you had reached out, searching for the warmth of another body - but your fingers only landed on the sheets, now cool to the touch. 
You sat up with a gasp, the blanket pooling around your lap. But you had fallen asleep on top of your blankets, hadn't you? 
The comforter was laid neatly over you, the pillows on the other side of the bed propped against your headboard, unbothered. The sun was streaming through the window, filtering through your curtains and shining in splatters of light against your own bare skin. Your small room was deafeningly quiet. 
That had been three weeks ago. 
For three weeks, Ellie avoided you. You hadn't seen her when you left to take your exam that morning. By the time you got home - after classes and after your part-time job - it was dark. The door to her bedroom was firmly shut, the muffled sound of music leaking into the living room - you wanted to smile when you realized she was listening to that song you had recommended. You thought about knocking on her door; not even to talk about what happened, really, but just because she was your best friend. Instead, you ate leftover takeout - cold because you were too tired to microwave it - and went to bed. You could hear her quietly singing to the music through your flimsy wall, falling asleep listening to her voice. 
At first, you honestly thought you had dreamed it. You thought maybe you had fallen asleep, sleep deprivation and vodka drawing out this fantasy in your dreams to torment you when you woke. But when you looked in the mirror, the bruises were still there. You ran your fingertips across the one on your collarbone, pressing at the one left behind your ear; you could still feel the warmth of Ellie's mouth against your skin, her teeth grazing across your hips. The phantom feeling still sent a shiver down your spine, heat creeping in your stomach. 
Ellie was trying her best to avoid you, but she still lived with you. After three days of not speaking, you resorted to a different approach. She didn't seem to have any plan to speak with you anytime soon - certainly not about what happened - so you let your body do the talking. You began wearing primarily v-necks and tank tops - ignoring the fact that it was still fall - simply to broadcast the line of lovebites she had left, her signature written all over your skin. They had faded slightly, but the purplish bruises still blossomed along your collar. You began wearing shorts around, short enough to show the bruise on your thigh; you let the fabric sit low enough to show the one at your hip, a pretty blend of colors that made you ache. The few times you did see her - when she was scavenging for food in the kitchen or right when she got home, before she could scurry away back to her room - you could feel her eyes lingering on you, gaze like a brand against your skin, burning all the spots she had marked. 
And she would hurry back to her room, locking the door behind her. 
Fine. 
If she refused to talk about it, you thought, you'd just have to make her. 
Which is why, three weeks after your original game - three weeks after that stupid fucking night - you bought a new bottle of vodka (by the time you had found the old one, it had spilled the last of its contents into your rug. Your room still smelled of it). When you got home, Ellie’s door was shut, just as it had been every day for three weeks. You kicked off your boots, leaving them in a pile in the hall, and knocked on her door.
“Sorry, I’m busy,” she called - just as she had every day for three weeks. 
You pursed your lips and knocked again, harder. 
“I’m busy!” she called again, her voice hard. It might have stung if you didn’t know her so well.
So, you knocked again. And kept knocking, a steady, continuous rhythm that echoed against the walls. You heard Ellie curse under her breath, could hear the scrape of her chair and her footsteps, and you kept knocking. You didn’t stop - didn’t even slow - until she opened the door in a huff, your hand falling against open air. 
“What the hell are you-” 
You shoved the bottle of vodka against her chest, cutting her off. She gripped it hastily before it could shatter against the floor. 
She looked frazzled. You had seen her during several exam seasons, during harrowing projects and infuriating essays. You had seen her in the hospital, two years ago, after breaking her leg skateboarding to work. But there was something in the way her hair was disheveled, sticking up at odd angles as though she had been running her fingers through it over and over and over again. There were bags under her eyes, purplish splotches like watercolor. 
And her eyes…. Her eyes were completely shattered. 
So you hesitated - briefly, just long enough for her to see the stutter on your lips - before you said, “Truth or dare?”
And the game began. 
Ellie looked at you, staring for several moments that stretched into infinity. You wanted to grasp it, to wrap your fingers around that stretched thread of a moment and hold it there where it couldn't hurt either of you. You weren't ready to let it go. But Ellie was looking at you with those broken eyes, and before you could say or do anything - before you caved and took the bottle back, fleeing back to the safety of your own room - the thread snapped. 
Ellie shook her head - and kept shaking it, as if doing so would rid her of this… whatever this was. “No,” she murmured, avoiding your eyes as her grip around the bottle’s neck tightened. “No, I’m not doing this. I’m busy, okay? I have an exam tomorrow-”
She moved to close the door - shutting it right in your face - but you kicked your foot out to stop it. 
“When somebody asks the question,” you said, reciting the stupid little agreement you both had written out two years ago, the night you established this tradition, “you have to play the game to its conclusion; when you run out of questions or pass out from alcohol poisoning. Those are the rules, El. Remember?” 
And still, she just looked at you, her brow furrowed like you were an equation she couldn’t solve - couldn’t even read, really. Her knuckles were white around the bottle’s neck, and when you looked down, her hands were shaking. You wanted more than anything to put your hands over hers, to still them - to bring those hands to your lips and kiss the white knuckles until she released her fists. Instead, you dug your nails into your thighs. 
You watched as Ellie took a deep, steadying breath, clenching her fists tighter before releasing the tension, her fingers relaxing around the bottle; her hands stopped trembling. She smiled at you, but it was tight, her eyes empty of their usual mischief. “Alright,” she said, and her voice was just as tight as her fists had been moments ago - the tension not gone, only transferred. “Okay, I’ll play. But you only get an hour - I really do need to study.” 
Ellie’s bedroom was the same layout as yours, only flipped, the two a mirror of each other. Strings of lights hung crookedly along the walls, the bulbs casting a soft, warm glow amongst the room, the same hazy hue of a dream. An easel leaned in one corner, a canvas propped against it; there were only the barest scribbles of an outline, incomprehensible to you. You thought it may be a profile, the gentle slope of a nose and soft lips sketched in pencil, but you weren’t sure. 
You ran your fingers over her desk as you passed; it was in absolute disarray. Two different astronomy textbooks lay open, covered in highlighter markings and Ellie’s sloping writing in the margins. There were three different cups on the surface in varying levels of full: a mug half full of coffee, still steaming; a glass of water that was completely full, untouched; and a cup filled with murky, grey liquid. A few paintbrushes had been left to sit in that one, and in large writing along the cup was written PAINT DO NOT DRINK. You almost laughed, remembering all the times you had watched your roommate spit water out after she had picked up the wrong cup. 
It felt strange when you sat gingerly on her bed. You had sat in this spot so many times before, more than you could count. You had spent so much time lounging on this bed, your laptop open in front of you while Ellie worked at her desk - on homework or her latest painting or nothing at all. There were days laid out before you where you both at lain in a crumbled heap, eating takeout on top of the covers because Ellie didn't give a shit about crumbs, an open laptop playing whatever horror movie she wanted to show you (she was always more scared than you, hiding her face in your shoulder). God knows how many truth or dare games you had played in this room, a bottle of alcohol passing between shaking fingers. When Ellie bought it, it was cheap whiskey and you hated it; you drank it anyway. 
Now, sitting on her bed - carefully, as though you thought it might break - your skin felt aflame, a fire burning in your muscles. When you ran your fingers over the messy sheets, you could only remember how it had felt to have your fingers clutching the ones on your own bed. 
Ellie sat at her desk across from you, folding herself so that she had one foot propped up on the chair with her, her knee folded to her chest; her other foot tapped anxiously against the floor. She was looking at you, her face strategically neutral, but it was like she was looking through you; her eyes kept shifting away, unable or unwilling to settle on you. Her voice gave nothing away when she said, looking at a spot above your shoulder, “Dare.” 
You sighed, feeling the questions wanting to claw their way from your throat with nowhere to go. You knew what you wanted her to do - what you wanted to dare her to do - but the words would only cause her to withdraw further. You felt like you had to approach Ellie as if she were a scared animal, ready to flee at the first sight of danger. 
Wracking your brain for something mild, you said, “Try to recreate one of those dumb popular TikTok dances.” 
You didn't miss how Ellie's shoulders relaxed, her hands noticeably unclenching. She looked at you and it was almost like nothing had happened; like she hadn’t been avoiding you for three entire weeks, becoming a ghost in your apartment. Like you both hadn’t made what had obviously been a drunken mistake. 
The beginning of a smirk tugged at her lips as she dug in her back pocket for her phone - its case had an astronaut on it, because of course it did. The screen illuminated her face, flashes reflecting minutely in her eyes as she scrolled. She bit her lip absently - she often did when she was thinking. You tried not to stare and failed miserably. 
“This’ll be easy,” she muttered to herself, half laughing. She scrolled through a few videos, and she had the volume down on her phone, but you could still recognize the song that kept playing on repeat; you were going to fucking die. 
There were several minutes of quiet, only the music playing from Ellie’s phone. With nothing to do but wait, you brought your legs up onto the bed, tucking them under you; your eyes wandered around the room, taking in the stack of paintings by her desk, both finished and unfinished. The figurine she had of Kassandra from Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey had toppled on her desk, her spear falling in a glob of paint, the tip smudged bright yellow. You investigated the posters she had hung up of her favorite bands - almost all of them with female singers; she had a very specific taste. On her nightstand, in a frame made of macaroni, there was a picture of her and her dad, taken at the zoo when she was quite a bit younger, the blurry image of a giraffe in the background. She was holding up a peace sign, smiling so wide her eyes were practically shut. 
You turned back when Ellie stood up from her chair, placing her phone on her desk. Shoving her hands in her hair, she said, “Can’t promise this’ll be anything amazing, but you get what you paid for.” Even as she said it, she was smirking, a dangerous twinkle in her eye. 
You watched as she rummaged in her closet, shoving aside probably half a dozen flannels and at least 10 different band t-shirts. She rummaged through a bucket with a few beanies in different colors, and you couldn’t see her face, but you already knew she would be wrinkling her nose like she always did when she was getting frustrated. 
You jumped, startled, when she suddenly exclaimed, pulling her head from her closet and turning to you with a triumphant grin. She held a black belt in her fist, holding it up like a trophy. 
You heard the stutter, heard the way her breath caught after she said the words. It was so stupid - a stupid little remark that she would have made any other day three weeks ago. She wouldn’t have even thought about it, wouldn’t have batted an eye. You would have rolled your eyes and said something mean in response - something like, “I save my complaints for when I see your face instead.” You would have laughed and then watched a fucking movie or something. 
You shook your head at her, even as your throat closed up with anticipation. “If it took you that long to find one, it’s no wonder your pants are always hanging from your fucking ass.” 
“Hey,” she said, picking up her phone again and looking at you with mock offense; she was still smirking. “I don’t exactly hear you complaining when my ass is out.” 
Instead, Ellie only coughed awkwardly, ducking her head to fiddle with her phone. In the dim light, you could see the flush of her cheeks behind her bangs. You looked anywhere but at her, your eyes darting around to find something to focus on that wasn’t how pretty she looked when she was flushed pink - how pretty she looked with her cheeks red from alcohol and exertion, her lips shining wetly - 
Your brain short-circuited when Ellie started the music - only the bite-sized sample that was trending on TikTok. She set her phone on her desk and took a deep breath, waiting for the song to loop again as she positioned the belt by her hips. She didn’t look at you, instead casting her eyes to the ceiling and muttering, “This is gonna be so stupid.” 
When the music looped again, you were forced to watch as Ellie thrust her hips to the beat, pulling the belt slowly away from her hips. When she brought it up to wrap the piece of leather around her neck, pulling it taut, you were surely convinced you must be paying for some sort of crime, that this was your eternal torture. Her movements were janky, stuttering and unsure and off-beat - she had only watched the videos for a few minutes and was relying solely on memory to guide her limbs. When she tried to tie her wrists into the belt, she got stuck, her hands ending up in a knotted mess. Still, her eyes met yours when she raised her bound hands above her head - coincidentally or purposefully - and you couldn’t look away. 
This was definitely Hell. It had to be. 
When the song started to loop again, Ellie hastily tried to pull her hands from the knot. The belt clattered to the floor, abandoned, as she scooped her phone up, fumbling with the buttons to cut off the music. She nearly dropped her phone in her haste. 
When the room was silent again, Ellie sat back down at her desk. Last time you had played, you had asked her to do something ridiculous for her first dare, and she had grinned with pride, practically preening. Now, she wasn't smiling; she hardly even looked at you, fiddling with one of the many paintbrushes on her desk. You compartmentalized the image of her thrusting her hips with her hands bound over her head, saving it for later. You always did torture yourself with these things. 
Ellie was looking at that same spot over your shoulder when she said, “Truth or dare?” She sounded pained, her words strained against some invisible weight. It was like your very presence in her room - on her bed - pained her, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave and give her relief. 
“Truth,” you said, hoping against hope that she would ask you fucking anything about that night three weeks ago. 
But she had never been that easy. Ellie had never been one to give you straight answers and she wasn’t about to start now - especially not now. So instead of saying anything - asking anything - about that night that she seemed keen on forgetting, she asked, “What’s the worst first date you’ve been on?” Before you could protest that you always told her about your worst dates, she added, “One I haven’t heard before.” 
So for the span of one question, you let yourself believe that you were still talking to your best friend. That she hadn’t been avoiding you for three fucking weeks and this was only your typical truth or dare game in between studying. You believed that you were simply gossiping with Ellie, who had been your best friend for several years and nothing more. In the space of one question, you let yourself believe that this was still only a game and not an intervention. 
So, in the spirit of pretend, you thought for a moment, rifling through the index of all the shitty dates you’ve been on. Ellie had already heard most of them, had been there whenever you came back home; she was there whether you were heartbroken or relieved that you wouldn’t see the person again. There were a few times where you had come home laughing, and she had passed you a joint as you told her all about the horrible date - you would take twice as long to tell the story because you couldn’t stop laughing. 
Finally, you said, “Okay, this was before we came to college. We weren’t close enough friends in high school for me to tell you, so I don’t think you’ve heard this one before. Stop me if I’m wrong.” She waved her hand for you to continue, twirling a pencil between her fingers. “I had just graduated high school so I was dating around before I left for college - nothing serious, just casually looking around.” 
“Window shopping,” she interrupted you with a grin - that same easy grin she always had with you. Your heart tugged embarrassingly at seeing it again. 
You swallowed the lump and continued, “Yeah. So, I went on a date with this guy - he was some friend of a friend’s, I didn’t know much about him. We went out to dinner at some local dive bar - which was already fucking weird because, like I said, I had just graduated high school.” 
“Was this guy a fucking cradle robber?” Ellie said, wrinkling her nose. 
You shook your head. “He may as well have been. He was either 21 or he was just really good friends with the bartender because as soon as he came in, he got two beers - the cheap shit, too. It tasted like musty ass.” Your stomach twisted when she laughed. “So we sit at a booth and I finally get a second to really look at him.” You leaned forward, bracing your hand on the bed so you wouldn’t fall, and made sure she was looking right at you when you said, “And this motherfucker was wearing a shirt that said Black Rifles Matter.” 
You reveled in the way Ellie’s jaw dropped, her eyes widening. Her lip turned up in disgust, and the only thing she could say was, “No.” 
You grinned, nodding, and you had to focus really hard to not start laughing. “Yes. And I rolled up to this dive bar, fresh out of the womb, with bright pink hair freshly dyed and a crop top that literally said Femme on it in bright pink letters - which, okay, maybe not the choice to wear on a first date with a straight guy, but still. I was in this booth with a baby face looking every bit as queer as I am, and this fucking dude with a patchy mustache and a shirt that has more problems than I care to admit opens up by telling me he doesn’t like when girls dye their hair.” 
Ellie was rolling her eyes, on the edge of her seat. She leaned closer as you continued, “But fine, whatever, everybody has preferences I guess. But this guy gets three beers in, and he’s already been talking about weird shit - conspiracy theories and telling me how kids today are too soft - one of those fucking guys, right? But then he stops,” you hold up your hands for emphasis, leaning even closer, “and he leans into me over the table, and he looks me straight in the eye - you wanna know what he said?” 
Ellie groaned. “Tell me he didn’t ask who you voted for or some shit.” 
You barked out a laugh; it echoed on the walls. “God, I wish. No, this bitch looks me dead in the eyes, his breath reeking of bad beer, and he says, ‘Are you on your period? I have this weird talent for smelling when girls are on their period.’” 
You watched, delighted, as Ellie slapped a hand over her mouth, muffling a choked gasp. “No!” 
You couldn’t stop laughing, pressing your hand to your stomach as you fell back against the sheets. Her laugh filled the room like helium, making everything feel lighter - easier. Even now, you couldn’t help but marvel at how easy it was being around Ellie. And for a moment, you did forget what had happened. You forgot about the string pulled taut between you waiting to snap. You forgot that this was anything more than simply another dumb game of truth or dare.
Until you looked up and saw the press of Ellie’s lips again, the way her eyes darted away, and you could feel yourself sinking again. 
And that’s how the hour went. Ellie - infuriating Ellie - did every single dare you asked of her. She did a handstand for a minute straight, her face turning so red you thought she might pass out. She called the local pizza place you often ordered from and asked for one hundred sardine pizzas, laughing when the poor teenage boy on the other line started stuttering. Last time, she didn’t take all the liquid in the fridge and make a nauseating cocktail; but this time, she did go and find four different liquids of her choosing - apple juice, almond milk, an old flat Dr. Pepper, and the remaining vinegar in a Kimchi jar - and downed it in front of you. She tried her hardest to hold a straight face, but only ended up scrunching her eyes closed, clapping a hand over her mouth to muffle a gag. She never chose truth. 
For your part, you never chose dare. You answered every pressing, embarrassing question she asked, ignoring the flush to your cheeks. You told her the most absurd dealbreaker for a relationship. (“What do you mean you’ll break up with someone if they don’t like garlic?” Ellie asked, smiling even as she shook her head.”) You went through the original Wiggles band and said which you would fuck, marry, or kill (“There are four of them! Do I choose to have a threesome?”) 
And you waited. Each time you chose truth, you held your breath. You watched Ellie mull it over, her eyes darting around as she thought, and prayed that she would just ask you something. You knew it was an unrealistic wish, but you still watched her lips and hoped against hope that she would give you some kind of acknowledgement that this wasn’t all for nothing. You just wanted her to stop being such a pussy and fucking talk about what happened. 
But the clock kept ticking. 
After about an hour had passed, Ellie looked at her phone and sighed, standing up. “Okay, I really have to get back to studying. I have this dumb astrophysics exam tomorrow and I can’t wrap my fucking head around this shit, so I have to -”
“One more,” you cut her off, standing up from the bed. You followed her as she walked to the door, one step behind her when she put a hand on the doorknob. She paused, her hand frozen there as she looked at you - actually looked at you, not through you. It was only a moment, but it was there; you could feel the way her eyes had branded your skin even after she’d looked away. Your voice was rushed, breathless when you added, “We haven’t even opened the bottle, so what’s one more? Just for fun.” 
Ellie looked behind you, back at the vodka bottle on her desk with the seal still intact. She sighed, but she never could say no to you. 
“Fine,” she said, and her voice was so quiet in the dark room; the word felt like a secret between you, soft against the tension stretched thin. “One more.”
You nodded, taking a deep breath. You tried to sound casual - you really did - but when you spoke, you found you couldn’t speak any louder than a whisper, afraid to disturb the air around you. You ducked your head, trying to meet her eyes when you said, “Truth or dare, Els?” 
She looked at you, meeting your eyes, and she seemed to deflate, sighing out a breath that ruffled your hair - you hadn’t realized how close you were. Her breath smelled of canned ravioli and weed; it was almost enough to make you laugh. 
Ellie took a step back, clearing her throat, and answered for one last time, “Dare.” Because she was too afraid of the fucking truth. 
And fuck it if your heart didn’t stutter in your chest. You felt your fingertips buzzing, your stomach twisting nauseatingly. You felt like you were going to be sick, but you forced yourself to look up at her. You squared your shoulders, feeling like you were preparing for fucking battle, and said, the words familiar on your tongue, “Kiss me.” 
A moment of silence passed, the words suspended between you. They were tangible, and part of you still wanted to snatch them back - to swallow them and leave, to pretend this never happened - but you didn’t. You held them out to Ellie - you weren’t sure if they were a threat or an offering. 
Ellie didn’t recoil, and you weren’t sure if that was more insulting. She looked at you for a long moment before turning away, shaking her head and turning the doorknob. “I really need to study, okay? I don’t have time for thi-” 
You put your hand against the door, holding it there so she couldn’t open it. Your stomach was a mess, tying itself into knots that you would never be able to undo. And you knew - you were far too aware - that this could ruin everything. It could drive her further away, pushing her further into this little cocoon she was hiding in. Ellie might hate you for it. 
But this was too important to ignore. 
“Kiss me, Ellie,” you said again, and you could feel the bite of it on your own tongue. When you had said it three weeks ago, you had been so unsure. It had been a rush of words on a breath, tinged with alcohol and desperation. The words had been so careless, a sober idea that had made its way from your drunken mouth. 
Now, Ellie was the one who couldn’t look at you. She stared at the spot where your hand pressed to the door, willing you to let go. Her knuckles were white around the doorknob. Her voice was a rumble that you felt in your chest when she said, “I need you to leave. Please.” That last word - please - made your heart break. 
You swallowed around the lump in your throat and said, “No.” 
Ellie finally turned her whole body towards you, but she was wearing a mask; she had schooled her face into a mockery of nonchalance, her eyebrows raised expectantly as she watched you. She crossed her arms, leaning against her hip, and watched you with measured expectancy, shaking her head. She shrugged and said, “What do you want? I really need to study.” 
And it was the lack of care that broke you. 
You slapped your hand against the door in frustration, feeling the sting in your palm, disappointed when Ellie didn’t so much as jump. You shook your head at her, and you were so fucking angry you could feel tears stinging at your eyes. You blinked them away and snapped, “What’s your fucking problem?” 
Ellie’s eyebrows shot up, her mouth opening in indignant shock. “What’s my problem?” 
“Yeah,” you cut her off before she could even continue. “What’s your fucking problem? You know what happened - what we did - but ever since that night you have been so determined to act like it never happened. You haven’t even talked to me in three fucking week, Ellie!” She closed her eyes when your voice broke on her name. “You’ve hardly looked at me all night. And look,” you sniffled, feeling some of the fire in you die down, “if you regret it - if you want to act like it never happened and go back to how things were before, I get it, okay? But can you at least have the balls to fucking tell me?” 
Your voice echoed off the silent walls, filling the space between you until you couldn’t breathe. You wiped a hand roughly over your face; your cheeks burned and you hated yourself for it. The room was so quiet you feared Ellie could hear the sound of your racing heart. 
It felt like hours before Ellie spoke; her voice was so heartbreakingly quiet, tip toeing on eggshells that were already broken. “I don’t regret it.” 
You huffed out a breath, shaking your head as she still wouldn’t meet your eyes. She couldn’t even look at you. When you took a step closer, you could feel the heat radiating off of her body, could feel the warmth in your chest. Your voice had lost its fire, your throat cold and raw and broken. You could only murmur, “Then kiss me again, Els. What are you so afraid of?” 
“You,” she snapped. You jumped, taking a step back; your heart lurched when she finally looked at you. Those shattered eyes were watching you, so open and vulnerable you wanted to look away. You forced yourself to watch, to bear witness to it when she shook her head, blinking tears from her eyes. Ellie pressed her lips together, blinking several times before releasing her held breath. She held your gaze like it was a lifeline and said, “I’m scared of you.” 
And just for a moment - so filled with silence it might pop - you saw it. You saw how Ellie had run from you like an injured animal, hiding away. You saw the way her hands shook around her biceps. You saw the way she bit her lip to keep it from quivering. 
You shook your head, feeling so incredibly small underneath those eyes that had avoided you all night; now they were vividly, overwhelmingly focused, broken in the hazy light and so green it was dizzying (and you couldn’t even blame it on the alcohol this time). You didn’t recognize your own voice, so small and vulnerable that the words themselves ached: “How can I fix this, Els? You want me to-” You huffed out a heavy breath, choking on your own voice. “Do you want me to act like it didn’t happen? Do you want me to leave you alone? I’ll do whatever you want, Ellie, I just… fuck. I just want my best friend back. So just… tell me what I did wrong.” 
You jumped when Ellie barked out a laugh, so dry it cracked. It may have been a trick of the light, the soft string lights making everything feel unreal, but when she looked at you again, she went impossibly soft. 
“You,” she said, so softly it ached, “haven't done anything wrong.” She sighed, leaning back against the wall; it was like all the fight suddenly drained from her, her shoulders sagging against the weight of three weeks. She looked away, her lashes casting shadows over her cheeks, and said, quiet as a confession, “You were drunk.” 
You furrowed your brow, shaking your head. “What?” 
Ellie ran a hand through her hair, making it even more disheveled. Pathetically, you wanted to fix it; you knew how soft the strands would be under your fingers. 
“You were drunk,” she repeated, as though it pained her; as though it explained everything. Her voice broke, the shattered pieces falling at your feet. “And I…. Fuck, I shouldn’t have pushed you. I shouldn’t have… forced myself on you.” She heaved in a shaky breath, her words tumbling from her, broken glass cutting her throat, leaving it raw. “I couldn’t even… wait for you to wake up after. I just fucking ran - I couldn’t even look at you, and that’s even shittier! And for three weeks, I’ve been trying to figure out how to fucking talk to you when I know that we - that I shouldn’t have done that.” 
Ellie pressed her hand to her mouth, taking in a shaking breath - her entire body was trembling as she fought to hold it all in. She looked ready to burst, struggling to take in a deep breath. You reached out to grab her hand - to hold her together - but she flinched away. 
“I don’t-” you started, unable to find the words. You watched your best friend dissolve, and you couldn’t seem to fit all her pieces back together. “Ellie… Els, are you saying you’re avoiding me because - because you thought you took advantage of me.” The words tasted ridiculous on your tongue, a foreign object.
Ellie was shaking her head wildly, her hands balled into fists. “You were drunk!” she repeated, like a mantra. She pressed a hand to her chest as though to keep everything in. “You were drunk, and you kept telling me no, and I just… pushed. I pushed and I didn’t know when to stop and, fuck, I still can’t believe I did that and I didn’t even have the fucking balls to face you or even tell you I’m sorry, and-” 
“Ellie.” You reached out and grabbed her wrist, cutting off her rambling; she flinched again but didn’t pull away. She looked up at you, her eyes wide and vulnerable and so impossibly green. “For one, do I need to remind you we were both drunk. And that I was the one who told you to kiss me?”
She watched you carefully, guarded; her bottom lip stuck out and, embarrassingly, you found you wanted to kiss it again more than anything. She took in a deep, shaky breath, ignoring the tears running down her cheeks; they mixed with her freckles like watercolor. “You kept telling me to stop - to leave it alone. And I didn’t listen.” 
“Els, I told you to stop because I was scared,” you admitted in a rush. Before she could respond, you continued, “Not of you. I was scared of how badly I wanted you, okay? And that’s fucking embarrassing to admit, but I’m saying it so you know it wasn’t your fault. I was scared because… fuck.” You scrubbed a hand over your face, feeling tears on your own cheeks. “Because you’re my best friend. And I knew that, as much as I wanted it, it could fuck everything up. But I didn’t want you to stop.” 
She shook her head. Her voice was raw when she said, “You couldn’t fuck anything up. You didn’t do anything wrong.” 
“Neither did you,” you practically shouted. “Ellie, I asked you to kiss me! Yeah, I had a few shots that night, but I knew what I was doing. You asked me how long I’ve wanted it - what did I say, Els? Tell me.” 
Ellie looked up at you, her cheeks splotchy from crying; she let you slip your hand into hers anyway. “A long fucking time.” It was no more than a whisper. 
Ellie watched you, studying you like you were an equation she couldn’t figure out (she really needed to study for that astrophysics exam). She pursed her lips, nodding slowly, rubbing roughly at her damp cheeks. “Yeah.” Her voice broke again; she cleared her throat. “Yeah. Me too.” 
“Yeah,” you said, gripping her hand to keep her grounded. “Not just when I was drunk. Not just when it was late. And definitely not just when you wanted it too. I’ve wanted you for a long fucking time, Els.” 
You took a step towards her; her body was so warm it was dizzying. You could hear her breath catch when you reached up and pressed your palm to her cheek. 
“What do we do now?” 
When she sighed, you could feel it on your lips. You felt the warmth of her hand at your waist, a steady anchor. “Like you said,” she murmured, her gaze soft; she reached up to brush your hair from your face, her fingers grazing the side of your neck. “This could fuck everything up.” 
Your heart lurched; you swallowed it back down so it could throw a fit right next to your twisted stomach. “Yeah,” you whispered, afraid to break the spell that made Ellie’s eyes watch the way your lips moved, captivated. “But….” 
“But,” Ellie repeated, leaning in so her nose brushed against yours; it was cold against your skin. 
You hardly had to move to kiss her, tilting your chin up to finally kiss that pouty bottom lip you had been staring at. You heard her breath catch again, her fingers pressing at your waist, drawing you closer so the warmth of her pressed against you. After three fucking weeks, you hadn’t forgotten how her lips felt against yours. It was just as intoxicating as it had been the first time; you were dizzy with the way she moved her mouth against yours, warmth spreading through your chest. 
Ellie broke away from you, but she didn’t stray far; she pressed her forehead to yours, and you could see that her eyes were still closed, her brow furrowed. She sounded impossibly small when she said, “Are you sure about this? I mean, what-”
“Ellie,” you interrupted; you twisted your fingers into her short hair and tugged lightly, delighting in the gasp it pulled from her lips. “Just shut up for once, okay?” 
You hardly even heard her replied Okay before her mouth was on yours again. Last time she had kissed you, you had felt lightheaded, floating with the weight of alcohol in your veins. Each press of her hands on you had felt unreal and distant, like she was touching you in a dream. 
Tonight, the vodka bottle sat unopened and forgotten on her desk, and Ellie was pressing against you with a sharp realness that made your breath stutter in your throat. When her fingers ran along your jaw, cupping your face and tugging you closer, they were lightning against your skin. She had the welcoming warmth of a bonfire, and you were like a fucking moth drawn to her. 
Ellie took a hesitant step forward, pressing you back, moving so slowly as though she thought you’d push her away. You let her push you backwards - encouraged her, really, entwining your arms around her neck and tugging her with you. You stumbled on the last few steps, practically falling back against the wall; Ellie braced her hands on either side of you to keep herself up, laughing into your mouth. You wanted to swallow the sound, to take it into your chest where it could curl up right next to your heart. 
The wall was cold against your back, but Ellie was quick to chase it away; her warm hands ran up your back, rucking up your shirt and scratching her nails lightly over your skin until you shivered. She was so gentle with you this time, running her fingers over your skin with such careful deliberation, as though each kiss and each caress was meticulously planned out. 
It was with this painstaking consideration that she lifted your shirt, pooling it around your chest; you raised your arms so she could pull it over your head. 
Ellie snickered, snapping the strap of your bra against your skin. “This is new.” 
“Shut the fuck up,” you said, batting her hand away. It was one of your nicer ones, and you couldn't tell her that, embarrassingly, you had worn it on purpose with the hopeless thought of just in case. “Sorry I’m not in my pajamas. I’ll be sure to fix that next time.” 
She grinned, ducking her head to press a kiss to your jaw. She hummed against your skin, “No, I like it.” 
You didn’t talk about the implication of what you had said - next time. But the way she kissed her way across your jaw, her teeth grazing over your skin and sending a shiver down your spine, promised a next time. As Ellie’s tongue darted out to lick along your pulse, you could feel the words in the breathy sigh that escaped your lips. When she ducked her head to bite at your collar, she branded the words into your skin. 
“You’re such an asshole,” she said, her laughter warm against your skin. She pressed a gentle kiss to your collarbone; the bruise had long faded, but the phantom ache was still there.  You could feel her smile when your breath hitched. “Just had these on full display. Drove me insane.” 
You huffed out a laugh that stuttered when she pressed a kiss at the edge of your bra. “I had to get your attention somehow, didn’t I?” 
Ellie lifted her head to meet your eyes. Her voice was barely above a whisper, her breath brushing your lips when she said, “You’re crazy if you think you’ve ever not had my attention.” 
When she kissed you again, it was with a new fire that burned bright in your chest. Her hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer so that you could feel her body against every inch of you. Her fingers dipped below the waist of your pants, pressing at the soft skin there. You felt her tongue press against your lips; when she ran it along the room of your mouth, she swallowed your moan. 
Ellie hummed against your lips, pressing you firmly into the wall and shoving a knee between your legs. You gasped at the sudden friction, heat pooling in your stomach when Ellie gripped your hips and pulled you closer, grinding against her sweatpants-covered leg. Her lips brushed against your ear and she murmured, “Tell me to stop and I'll stop.” 
She had said those same words last time, pressed drunkenly into your skin. There was an affirmation hidden somewhere underneath: Do you still want me? Before, they had been slurred, like a sloppy kiss against your lips. Now, her hands steady against your hips, her body warm from something other than vodka, it was whispered like a promise. 
You answered by pressing your hands to her chest; she didn’t fight you as you pushed her away, didn’t hesitate as you walked her backwards until the back of her knees hit her bed. She let herself fall backwards, but she wrapped her arms around your waist as she did so. You fell into a crumpled heap on top of her, knocking the air from both of your lungs, and you could feel her laughter against your neck. 
Lifting yourself up on your elbows, you glared down at her; she only answered it with a grin, lifting herself just enough to kiss you briefly. You couldn’t suppress your own smile when you said, “You’re infuriating.” 
Her eyes sparkled mischievously. She hooked her fingers in your belt loops and gave them a tug as she said, “Yeah, get used to that.” 
You kissed her again to hide your smile. You didn’t talk about the inclination of that either. 
Growing impatient, you swung your legs on either side of her, sitting up and straddling her hips. Ellie’s hands ran up your sides, captivated, as though refusing to keep her hands off you for even a moment. You idly ran your fingers over her stomach where her hoodie had risen up, the warm skin right above her sweatpants; you delighted in the way she shivered at your touch. 
“This doesn’t seem fair,” you hummed, running your hand higher up her abdomen, revealing the expanse of soft skin; if you pressed just a little bit harder, you’d be able to feel the muscles beneath. You smiled when you heard her breath stutter, chest rising just slightly to meet your touch. “You’re wearing way too many clothes.” 
Ellie - ever enthusiastic - wasted no time in sitting up just enough to tug her hoodie over her head, leaving her hair an absolute mess. She tossed it across the room; you thought you heard it knock something over, but you didn’t have a chance to look before Ellie was grabbing your hips, digging her fingers into the soft skin. You gasped when she used the leverage to pull your hips down, grinding against her. 
This time, she was the one not wearing a bra - she had been home studying all day, so you hadn’t expected otherwise - and your eyes raked over miles of fair, warm skin. You wanted to run your fingers over it and watch the shiver your touch pulled from her. You wanted to press your lips to every inch of hot skin and feel the way her body arched into you, chasing your tongue. 
But she was watching you with an intoxicating shade of anticipation in her half-lidded eyes. You realized you had been staring for a few seconds too long because she had that cocky ass grin on her stupid face. 
“Like what you see?” she teased, pulling your hips down again so you had to bite down a moan. 
“Shut the fuck up,” you mumbled. You couldn’t tell her how many times you had imagined what she would look like under your hands or how you had always wondered how far down her freckles went (you couldn’t keep yourself from running your fingers down her chest, tracing them like constellations). You couldn’t tell her how your eyes had tracked her anytime she walked around the apartment in a sports bra or, sometimes, in only a towel, your imagination running away from you. 
If you told her, she’d never let you live it down.
Instead, you let your hands drift across the small swell of her chest, feeling the way her body arched into your fingers. You had to bite back a grin when your thumb brushed over her nipple, feeling her body shudder beneath you. You wanted to record the way her breath caught in her throat to listen to over and over again. Her eyelids fluttered, her lip caught between her teeth; you knelt down to kiss her, hard and deep, smiling into it when you pinched her nipple gently and she moaned against your lips, fingers tightening around your hips. 
You needed to taste her, you realized. Your mouth watered with it. 
You bit her bottom lip between your teeth, grinning when you heard her hiss. You took a moment to kiss your way across her jaw and down her neck, open-mouthed kisses pulling sighs from her lips. You couldn’t resist sucking the skin into your mouth, feeling the way her pulse jumped under your tongue and loving the moan that rumbled in her throat, her fingers gripping your hips so tightly you were sure you'd have bruises - again. But when you pulled away and saw the red beginnings of a bruise on her pale skin, a thrill ran through you. She would have to walk around with a physical reminder of how you had made her feel. 
You loved revenge. 
But you weren’t like Ellie, who had taken her sweet time in unraveling you. You didn’t have that kind of patience - certainly not now, not tonight. You had spent far too long holding yourself back - too long averting your gaze, never letting your touch linger. You had spent so long schooling your own imagination, trying to ignore the way your heart stuttered whenever Ellie wandered too close. You had spent too many nights letting your mind wander, only feeling safe to let your imagination run when you could hide in the dark; you had spent far too many nights with your hand between your legs and the fleeting image of green eyes and that crooked fucking smile. 
So no, you didn’t have any patience left in you.
When you reached between your bodies and pressed your palm to her sweatpants, you swallowed her moan, drinking it in and feeling like you could survive on it alone. Maybe it would finally satiate your fucking thirst. 
Kissing your way down her chest, you pressed the words into her skin - “I can't fucking believe you though I didn’t want this.” - before pressing the flat of your tongue to her nipple. You could get drunk on the breathy moan that dripped from her lips, the way she arched up into you like her body ached to be closer to yours. She pressed her hips into your palm and you could feel the heat through her sweatpants. 
When you pulled back just enough to tug at her sweatpants, Ellie started laughing, breathy and hitched as she said, “Little eager, aren’t you?” Even as she said it, she was lifting her hips, pushing hastily at her pants to get them off faster. 
The fabric was damp when it dropped to the floor, pooling around her ankles. Stepping off the bed, you placed your hands on her knees, pushing them apart. You dropped to your knees and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the skin above her boxers. Her skin was hot under your tongue when you said, “Haven’t I waited long enough, Els?” 
Ellie only responded with a moan as you sunk your teeth into the soft flesh of her thigh and pressed the heel of your palm to her underwear. You grinned against her skin when she cursed, grinding down into you. You soothed the bite with your tongue and backed away to admire the red beginnings of another bruise. 
Ellie groaned, twisting her fingers in the sheets when you ground your palm into her. “Fuck, I’ve waited long enough too, right?” 
You couldn’t hold back your grin, tugging at her boxers so she would lift her hips. With her underwear around her ankles, Ellie lifted herself up on her elbows so she could look down at you. Whatever she saw - you on your knees between her legs, lips parted so your hot breath fanned over her - made her groan, another breathy curse falling from her lips. She reached down and carded her fingers through your hair, fingers soft against your temple. 
You smiled, blinking coyly up at her, and said, “Little eager, aren’t you?” before pressing the flat of your tongue to her clit. 
The moan that wracked through Ellie’s chest sent warmth spreading through your stomach, an ache pooling between your legs. You raised your eyes to watch her as you licked a slow, painstaking stripe over her slit, watching the way her mouth fell open in a choked gasp. The metallic taste of her on your tongue made your head spin; you moaned when she twisted her fingers in your hair, delicious pain stinging your scalp when she tugged. 
Ellie gasped your name like it was a promise. “Fuck - what the fuck -” Nonsensical words dripped from her lips with abandon, sweet as honey to your ears. When you ducked your head down to press your tongue inside her, a brief, hot pressure, her fingers tightened in your hair, her voice hitching when she cursed again, her words slurring together. 
You wrapped one arm around her thigh, feeling the muscle trembling as you pressed your fingers into the soft flesh. You ran your other hand up her stomach, feeling the way her breath quickened in the rise and fall of her chest. Stretching further, you flicked your thumb over her nipple and tightened your arm around her thigh when her hips bucked, holding her in place. 
You wrapped your lips around her clit, sucking it into your mouth and fighting back a smile at the keening whine it pulled from her. Her fist in your hair tugged you closer, guiding you exactly where she wanted you - and how could you resist her when she was chanting your name like a prayer? 
A shudder wracked through Ellie’s body when you flicked your tongue over her clit, lapping at her like you were starving. (After waiting so long to taste her, you might as well have been.) She groaned when you pinched her nipple between your fingers, her thighs clamping around your ears. Her legs shook when she came, your name on her tongue as though it were the only word she knew. You coaxed her through it, the flat of your tongue licking over her clit until she was gasping for breath, her hips slumping back against the bed. 
You peppered kisses over her thighs as she came down, your hand brushing across her stomach in soothing circles. Your knees ached from the cold floor, the carpet burning against your skin, but you couldn’t convince yourself to move just yet. When you glanced up at her, Ellie was looking down at you with glassy eyes; she had slumped back a little against her elbows, her limbs jelly - you tried not to let that go to your head - but she held out a hand to you, grasping for you. “Fuck, come here.” 
You both took the time to finally scoot further up the bed, Ellie's head propped on her pillow, her hair a messy halo around her. She pulled you on top of her, bracing her hands on your hips as you straddled one of her legs. When you leaned down, she tilted her chin up to meet you, kissing you lazily, licking into your mouth like she had all the time in the world - like she could kiss you forever and it still wouldn't be enough. With your elbows braced on either side of her head, it felt like you were both in a small bubble, the world left outside to wait for you. Fuck, maybe you did have all the time in the world. 
You gasped when Ellie raised her leg, pressing it between your thighs with an intoxicating pressure. She used her hands on your hips to push you down, guiding you as you grinded down against her. She broke away from the kiss, taking a moment to just look at you. Her pupils were blown, swallowing the green entirely. 
She grinned, endearingly lopsided, and murmured, “Now you're wearing too many clothes.” You whined a protest when she took her hands off your hips, but she only reached behind you to fumble with the clasp of your bra. It took her a few tries - you bit back a laugh when she cursed in frustration - and she threw it across the room when she finally got off. 
“Who the fuck designed those things?” she grumbled, fingers quick on the button on your jeans. 
You got off of her for only a moment, just long enough to kick your jeans and underwear off, but each second her skin wasn't on yours was agony. Your clothes hadn’t even fallen to the floor before Ellie was pulling you back in by the nape of your neck, her other hand guiding your hips back over her leg as she kissed you with a hunger that may as well have devoured you. You hissed when her teeth sunk into your lip, her tongue soothing over it before licking into your mouth. 
Your breath caught on a broken moan when she pressed her thumb into the dips of your hips, pressing you back to grind against her leg. The feeling of your bare pussy sliding against her thigh made you lightheaded, the dizzying pressure sending sparks through your stomach. Ellie's fingers still on the back of your head twisted in your hair, giving it an experimental tug; you felt her smile against your lips when you whined. You were pliable under her hands, your hips stuttering against her leg. 
Ellie pulled away, pulling you back by your hair just far enough away for her to look at you; her eyes raked over your body with a hunger that set you nerves on fire, looking ready to devour you. 
“God, look at you,” she breathed, raising her leg just slightly, the added pressure making your heart stop. Releasing your hair, her hand ran down your side, sliding across your chest. You moaned when her thumb grazed over your nipple, your hips stuttering; her other hand on your hip tightened, fingers digging into the bone. “So fucking wet for me and I've hardly even touched you.” 
“Shit,” you cursed when Ellie bucked her hips, her thigh grinding into you. You tried to glare down at her even though you knew your own traitorous eyes betrayed your growing desperation. Her cocky smile didn’t quite land, its impact softened by the way she watched your lips in fascination, her pupils blown - you couldn’t see the green anymore. Your voice wasn’t nearly as hard as you wanted it to be, your want softening the words: “Fuck off, Els, don’t be a dick.” 
“Am I being a dick?” she asked in mock offense, pouting up at you. “Good things come and all that shit, right?” Ever as she was teasing you, Ellie’s hand crept down your stomach, fingers warm against your hungry skin. She lowered her leg just enough to slide her hand between your thighs. You gasped, feeling lightning in your veins when those calloused fingers slid over your clit, already wet with want. Her eyes darkened, her lips parting. She slowly circled your clit, sending your hips jerking into her, and said, “Fuck, look at you. God, I finally get to see you like this….” 
You struggled to speak past the breathy moans beginning to drip from your lips: “Finally? How - ah - fuck - how long - how long have you…?” You couldn’t think of a way to finish that sentence, your thoughts clouding over when Ellie dipped just the tips of her fingers briefly inside you, gathering your wetness. 
“Like you said,” she murmured, finally pushing two fingers slowly inside you; even as she kept talking, she watched your face carefully, searching for any sign of discomfort, “a long fucking time.” 
Your jaw went slack when she curled her fingers, gasping when she found that spot that made you see stars. She paused, as though giving you a moment to adjust, unaware of just how many times you had done this with your own fingers. 
“Shit, Ellie,” you moaned, canting your hips down into her hand. She adjusted her arm, positioning herself so that the heel of her hand pressed to your clit, pulling another breathy moan from your lips. Her other hand was still on your hip; she pushed you back, guiding you to grind on her fingers. “Ah - fuck.” 
She watched you carefully, fascinated by the way your eyes rolled back in your head, your brow furrowed; you felt her own wetness on your thigh again. Her voice was so fucking breathy when she said, “How long have you wanted this, baby?” She hummed; releasing your hip, she ran her hand up your side to knead at your tit, her fingers so careful against you. You groaned low in your throat when she flicked her thumb over your nipple. “How many times have you come thinking of me? Did you imagine my fingers inside you, angel? Did you moan my name?” 
You couldn’t even think of a snarky response; you were too distracted by the way her fingers curled inside you as you fucked yourself against her. Her rough palm slid deliciously against your clit, grinding into her with a growing desperation that made your thighs shake. Your shoulders ached from holding yourself over her but it was only an afterthought as you felt a tight warmth building in your stomach. You leaned down just enough to kiss her, moaning into her mouth when words failed you. 
“Fuck, look at you,” Ellie repeated, groaning when your hips stuttered. You were lightheaded, fucking yourself desperately on her fingers, grinding down against her palm and chasing that intoxicating warmth spreading inside. “So fucking pretty for me.” 
She kissed you as you came, licking into your mouth and tasting herself on your tongue. You pressed your clit down into the heel of her hand, riding it out, feeling the way that warmth spread down to your fingers. Ellie broke away from the kiss to trail her lips down your neck, leaving wet kisses along your skin and saving every broken moan that was gasped right into her ear. 
Ellie didn’t move as you came down, letting you ride out your high, tracing gentle circles down your side. You slumped against her, your arms giving out; your weight landing on her forced all the air from her lungs. She only laughed breathlessly. 
It was several long moments before you were able to move again. Ellie ran her fingers through your hair as you gasped into her neck; she hummed absently and you could feel the vibration against your lips. 
When you were able to, you slowly lifted yourself off of her, wincing slightly at the sudden emptiness. With gentle hands, she guided you back down to lay beside her; you curled up against her without waiting for her invitation, resting a hand on her bare chest so you could feel the steady pounding of her heart. 
Ellie didn’t wait for invitation either before she wrapped her arms around you, pulling you closer; she was blissfully warm against the suddenly cold air. Something tugged pleasantly at your chest at the realization that you would no longer have to monitor your own movements so carefully - you could touch her, you realized, any time you wanted now. God, how were you going to ever stop now? 
Without anything else to say, you sighed against her skin: “A long fucking time.” 
Ellie hummed, giggling at your delayed answer. The fairy lights on her walls cast the room in a warm glow; with the hazy lights around you, you would almost believe this was a dream if Ellie wasn’t so solid and warm beneath your fingers. You traced the freckles across her chest, connecting constellations you had seen her chart before. 
Her voice was so quiet in the small room when she asked, “What do we do now?” 
You hummed, feeling sleep winning the war inside you. “We can figure that out tomorrow,” you said, pressing a kiss to her collarbone. Tilting your head, you leaned up just enough to kiss her, warm and deep and breathless, before moving away to meet her eyes. “Just don’t fucking run off again, okay?” 
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hgfictionwriter · 18 hours
Text
Getaway
Jessie Fleming x Reader
Summary: Jessie's in her head about your friendship and if it can be something more. Can a vacation getaway change the trajectory of your connection?
A/N: Get ready for shy, sweet, awkward Jessie doing her best to not get in her own way and win over her girl. Someone requested fluff and while this isn't quite it - it's on its way lol. No warnings for this fic.
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"Um, can I get you a refill?" Jessie asked as she spied the near empty glass in your hand. 
"Only if you're getting one," you responded with a nod to the cup Jessie was holding.  
Niamh and Zee had both retired for the night and it was now just Jessie and you around the firepit of the villa the four of you were renting. Jessie wasn't a night owl and she was actively fighting the weight of her heavy eyelids, but she wanted to stay up with you. And frankly, she was a bit of a lightweight when it came to drinking as well. She was already feeling a bit of a buzz and wasn't entirely confident about having another drink. You noted her hesitation and smiled.  
"Doesn't have to be a boozy drink. I could go for a late night tea instead." 
Jessie smiled gratefully. You knew her so well.  
"Sure, let's do that," Jessie said. 
When Jessie returned a while later with two steaming mugs of tea, she also had a bag of crackers tucked under her arm and handed them to you. 
"Oh my gosh," you said as she sat up to receive the items. "How did you know I wanted a snack?" You blew on the hot beverage before taking a tentative sip. "And you remembered how I take my tea. Thank you." 
"Of course," Jessie said, hiding a pleased smile. An easy quiet fell over the two of you as you sipped your drinks. Jessie had to make a concerted effort to focus her gaze on the fire and to not stare at this beautiful woman across from her. She should really just enjoy the silence and your company, but an urge had been nagging her and her resolve was fading. 
"So, how are you liking it here so far?" She asked.  
"It's beautiful. Obviously," you responded with a light chuckle. "I'm loving it. Thank you again - to all of you - for letting me tag along on your unofficial team trip." 
"Oh, no need to thank me or any of us. We're all super glad you're here," Jessie said. She did her best to push down the awkward or self-criticizing feeling that was starting to bubble up inside of her. 
It's just Y/N, she had to remind herself so she wouldn't get caught up in analyzing her own words and actions. 
When Jessie first met you through Niamh over a year ago, you hit it off. At the time, Jessie made a point of not giving it too much headspace. It was just one meeting after all and it could have been a fluke. But when you saw each other again at another event, it became evident to Jessie that there was actually something there. Your chemistry was natural, banter was easy, and your conversation led to some deeper things and you ended up talking late into the night. Jessie was reserved, even shy, so warming up to someone so quickly and feeling comfortable wasn't the norm.  
Just as Jessie was working up the nerve to ask you for your number - an extreme rarity - it came to light that you had a girlfriend. That brought everything to a crashing halt. 
Jessie had been furious with herself for misreading your connection and for almost making a fool out of herself. She was even more upset with herself for how disappointed she felt by this turn of events. It had only been a couple of conversations and she shouldn't be so affected. Regardless, she most definitely didn't want to get caught up in any drama. So when you parted ways that night she dismissed the notion that it could've ever been anything more. She was committed to pushing you from her mind and that was the end of it. 
However, your paths kept crossing and that chemistry didn't go away. In fact, every time you talked, Jessie found that you lingered longer and longer in her mind and that feeling in her chest grew warmer and brighter.  
In time, Jessie convinced herself that being friends wouldn't be so bad. And, truthfully, it was mostly good. There were, regretfully too many, moments where Jessie had to do everything in her power to not reach out to hold your hand or to not let it show when mention of your girlfriend sent a dagger through her insides, but Jessie's life was undeniably better with you in it than even the thought of one without.  
Knowing that you'd never be anything more made things simple enough, not easy, but the lines were undebatable. However, since you and your girlfriend broke up a couple of months ago, things were different and Jessie was having more and more difficulty navigating your dynamic. The chemistry was still clear as day for Jessie, but did you feel the same? And even on the off-chance that you did feel the same, were you ready for a new relationship? And now that you'd been friends for so long, Jessie had to weigh the cost of risking your friendship. The thought of losing you terrified her.
All of the drama she'd been trying to avoid seemed to be closing in on her despite her efforts. She should really just let it all go, but it was proving harder and harder to. 
"Did you and [y/ex] ever talk about visiting here?" Jessie asked clumsily. She had to resist the urge to sigh in annoyance at herself. She watched your reaction carefully; if you were put-off or perplexed by the inquiry, you didn't let on. 
"No," you answered nonchalantly and shrugged. "She wasn't really big on travel. So, it never really came up. I've always wanted to come here though, so this is perfect." 
"Oh yeah, me too," Jessie said quickly - too quickly. She fought off the wince that threatened to cross her face. She cleared her throat inaudibly and redirected. "Um, I haven't really checked in in a while. Uh, so, how are you? You know…since the break-up." 
It seemed that no matter how many times she’d rehearsed these conversations, they just never really came out the way she wanted them to. Maybe it was a good thing she had a bit of a buzz, because otherwise she'd probably be sinking into her chair and praying to disappear at how clunky she was approaching this. 
"You're sweet," you responded with a small smile. Again, if you were thrown off by any of this, you weren't letting it be known. "I'm doing well. Honestly." Jessie didn't fill the silence that formed and you went on, dropping eye-contact and swirling your tea distractedly. "It was the right decision." 
"That's good," Jessie affirmed with a nod. "I mean, if you're not in love, no point in dragging things on."  
"Exactly. It wouldn't have been fair to either of us. And truthfully, it was a long time coming," you said returning a nod. You let out a quick exhale and sat back in your chair, a faint smirk now forming on your face. "And what about you? Anyone on the horizon for you?" 
A deep blush immediately began to burn on Jessie's cheeks. She forced what she hoped was an easy laugh. "Nothing on the horizon." 
You shot her a discerning look. "No one? The entire time I’ve known you you’ve never been remotely interested in anyone. So still no one?” 
"What?" Jessie defended, her voice rising in pitch. Her cheeks were on fire as she frowned at you. "I'm too busy. I'm gone like every other week, and sometimes for weeks at a time. That's not exactly the best foundation for a relationship." 
Great. Just go ahead and tell her all the reasons why you'd make a crappy partner, Jessie thought disparagingly. 
To Jessie's surprise, you smiled. 
"That right there tells me you'd be a good partner. It's very thoughtful. I mean, from what I've seen, there are a lot of others who don't afford partners - if you can call them that sometimes - the same kind of care and consideration," you relayed. "That said, life is short. Even if your schedule is crazy, if she's the right one for you, you'll make it work. And if you're the right one for her, she won't mind that your schedule is crazy. It'll make the moments that you're together that much sweeter." 
If Jessie's blush was about to fade, that last part had the opposite effect on her. All she could do was offer a tight smile. 
"I suppose that's true." 
She cleared her throat, building herself up to shift the focus of the conversation back to you.  
“Uh, you mentioned your break up was a long time coming - what did that mean?” She tried to make it sound casual, but she feared the chances of that were quite low. She added quickly, “You obviously don’t need to tell me anything. You just never really said why you broke up and I just-” 
“It’s okay. Really.” You mercifully interjected. You settled further into your chair with a heavy sigh, your gaze drawn back to the drink in your hands. You took a few moments to formulate your response. “I think it just became apparent to me that my feelings for her weren’t what they should be. She deserved more. And I do, too.”  
“That’s very mature. And takes a lot of self-awareness,” Jessie offered.  
“Thanks,” you said simply with a faint smile and a shrug.  
Jessie waited a beat to see if you would elaborate more, but you didn’t. Jessie contemplated what to say next and although she didn’t fully trust where her instincts were taking her, she went with it nonetheless.  
“Um, I know it’s only been a couple of months, but is there anyone on the horizon for you? Like, are you looking to date again?” Once more, she did her damnedest to make it sound like idle curiosity. She watched you carefully while you considered your response.  
“Mm, I’m taking my time, I suppose,” you eventually replied. “But, with the right person, I’d be all for it.” 
Jessie nodded as she continued to map out how to navigate this discussion. She wanted to push, but fear around jeopardizing your friendship confined her in a lot of ways. She had to be careful.
“And I guess you know better now what you want versus what you don’t want,” she said. You nodded as you peered over your mug at Jessie.  
“Yes, that’s true. I do.” 
Jessie was about to ask what you were looking for when your phone buzzed and the screen lit up, distracting you both.  
Jessie felt an irrational, yet thankfully fleeting, wave of jealousy come over her as she imagined the text was from your ex, as unlikely as that would be. Regardless, she studied your expression as you read the text, noting the discerning frown on your normally gentle features.  
“Everything okay?” Jessie asked.  
“Oh, yeah,” you replied, your frown dissipating as you locked your phone. “My sister’s just making some questionable decisions. Nothing serious,” you assured with a chuckle, “but she felt compelled to tell me.” You drained your drink, setting it down on the table. “It's 1:30.” You announced as you held up your phone to show the time. No wonder Jessie was so tired. "What time did we want to head out tomorrow?" 
"About 9," Jessie replied, now suddenly struggling to stifle a yawn.   
"Okay, shit. Sorry - I kept you up. I know you normally go to bed a lot earlier than this," you apologized. Jessie was quick to dismiss the notion. 
"Not at all. Well, yeah, I go to bed earlier normally, but we're on vacation. I didn't even realize it was so late," she said, hesitating for a moment before going on. "And I always enjoy our conversations." 
"Me too." 
Jessie could've beamed. It wasn’t much, but it made her happy nonetheless. She smiled, but tried to tamper it.
“I guess we should try to get some sleep though, hey?” You proposed. Jessie hoped that she was right in hearing a hint of regret in your tone. Even though Jessie didn’t want the night to end, morning was going to come quickly.
She stood and began gathering up the glasses and other items.  
"Hey, I can take mine. Don't worry." You protested, but Jessie was already walking to the kitchen with all of the dishes in hand. "Gosh," you complained lightly as you followed her in, "you never let me take care of anything. I'm still not over you carrying my luggage in for me. And Niamh's never going to let me live that down. Or maybe even you, for that matter." 
Jessie was glad she was hunched over loading items into the dishwasher otherwise you would've caught a new blush forming across her cheeks.  
"You're an 'acts of service', aren't you?" You proposed as you leaned an elbow on the table to prop up your chin.  
"Huh?" Jessie asked as she closed the dishwasher door and straightened up. 
"Love language," you elaborated. Jessie started to stumble over her words when you interjected. "It can be for anything - not just romance. Friendships too. It's just how you show you care." 
"Oh, yeah I guess, then," Jessie conceded. "Um, what are you?" 
"'Words of affirmation', for the most part. 'Quality time' is pretty high too, though," she answered.  
"Oh, so we're not that compatible.” Jessie risked the joke before she could stop herself, ensuring to tack on a teasing smirk to alleviate as much weight as possible given she broached your compatibility. 
"Excuse me?" You protested with a laugh. "That's not necessarily true. I enjoy receiving acts of service. So there's compatibility there. Do you like receiving words of affirmation or do you like quality time, I guess that's the question." 
Jessie subconsciously started scratching the back of her head and averted her gaze.  
"Um, I don't particularly like compliments, but I guess it depends on context, I don't know," she trailed off. "And I'm an introvert and I need time alone, but, if I like someone I do like spending time with them." 
"Well, it's not just strictly compliments," you corrected, drawing Jessie's eyes back. "It's like," you paused briefly, seeming to contemplate something before going on, "if I say, "Jessie, even though I didn't need you to carry my luggage in, I appreciated you doing so. It made me feel welcome and cared for. You are one of the most thoughtful and sweet people I know - you are important to me and I feel lucky to have you in my life." 
Jessie's cheeks began to burn yet again. Her heart was racing and the eye contact you held quickly became too much. She tried to distract with a roll of her eyes and an amused laugh.  
"Right," she said.
Thoughts clamored in her head and no single one stood out as the right thing to say. She was aware of how too much space was starting to fill your conversation.  
"Well, I should let you get to sleep," you said softly, relieving Jessie of the task of finishing her thoughts. Jessie cursed inwardly.  
"Oh yeah, sure," she said, running a hand through her hair. "Um, well I'll walk you to your room." The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. She couldn't stand how awkward she was sometimes. 
"Okay." Despite the odd proposal, you accepted with a gentle smile.  
You chatted quietly as you walked upstairs, past Jessie's room and further down the hall. You should've said goodnight right away, but instead Jessie found herself drawing out your goodbye. It didn't seem like you were in a rush, so Jessie cast aside the doubt that was crawling up inside of her. 
When you finally said 'good night', Jessie wrestled with the act of hugging you or not. She debated it heavily and was outrageously close to initiating it, but when the moment came she ended up turning on her heel and giving a small wave instead. She had to resist the urge to slam her bedroom door when she got inside over how frustrated she was with herself. 
When she finally turned off the light and got under the covers to sleep, she was wide awake. The way sleep had been pulling at her prior was now fully replaced with reflections of the night and irritation with herself. She sighed and let her arms fall heavily at her sides as she stared blankly up at the ceiling. More thoughts swirled inside her head and she screwed her eyes shut before forcing herself to breathe and trying to relax.  
Despite her best efforts, she tossed and turned for a while before finally admitting defeat and pulling out her phone to pass the time. Maybe it was the lingering alcohol, maybe it was the lack of sleep, but it was after 2:30 when she pulled up her conversation with you and sent a text with a screenshot of the test she just did.  
"Confirmed. Acts of Service. And I actually do like Words of Affirmation." 
To her surprise, three dots appeared in the bottom left of your conversation. Jessie's breath caught in her throat and she remained motionless watching the dots fade in and out. 
"I knew it. So what I'm hearing is, we are compatible lol." 
Another breath caught in Jessie's throat as she read your reply. Her chest was burning and she was grateful for the fact that this was over text. She actually had the chance to think about what she wanted to say. 
"Definitely. Though I'm not surprised." 
"Tell me more." 
Jessie fidgeted as her mind churned with possibilities. This was a moment where things could change - a moment she told herself for more than a year that she didn't want or need. You were friends. Good friends. What if she misread things again - she had before. What if she ruined everything just because she couldn't control herself. 
"Shouldn't you be asleep?" 
She chickened out. 
"I couldn't sleep." 
"Apparently, neither could you." 
Jessie exhaled shakily.  
"True." 
"Well, it's silly that we're texting. Why don't you just come over." 
Jessie's brow furrowed in deep confusion as she read your text. She reread it just to be sure.  
"We have to be up early. I don’t want to keep you up." 
She was such a coward. A heavy feeling fell over her chest making it harder to breathe. She let the phone fall against her. It buzzed. 
"Okay. Well, if you change your mind, come on over. I'm not tired, so I won't be falling asleep soon anyway." 
Jessie locked her phone and set it down on the bedside table. She rubbed her temples and sighed deeply. 
The tight, heavy feeling in her chest kept growing and nagging at her despite how she was trying to breathe and decompress. Of course she shouldn't go to your room. She should just go to sleep. And of course your offer didn't mean anything. Why would it? You were friends. Always just friends.  
What was she doing?  
She wasn't sure how much time passed before she sat up in her bed. She didn't even really realize she was doing it until she was straight up and staring at the wall ahead of her. She swallowed heavily and her heart began to beat loudly in her chest as she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stepped onto the hardwood. She took a steadying breath before she stood and crept over to the door, opening it a crack. She peered down the hall and saw the faintest glow coming from your room. Was your door open? 
Jessie swallowed her trepidation and began to softly pad down the hall, mindful to make as little noise as possible. As she neared your room, she confirmed that your door was ajar. Jessie's heartbeat was loud in her head now as she slowly approached the door. She knocked very faintly before pushing it open a few inches to peek inside. 
The tension that was holding Jessie's shoulders high towards her ears suddenly fell from her and she exhaled silently upon seeing you casually laying in bed under the glow of your phone and waving her in. 
"I told you I wasn't tired," you whispered as you sat up.  
"I couldn't sleep either," Jessie told you as she quietly closed the door behind her.  
A belated self-consciousness swept over Jessie at the realization that she was standing here in her pajamas, a t-shirt and shorts. She subconsciously tugged down the hem of her shorts.  
She sees you in a t-shirt and shorts every game. Calm down, she chided internally.  
Jessie quickly took in her surroundings, now suddenly unsure of what to do. Her eyes settled upon a chair at the desk in the corner of the room. She walked over there and began turning it so she could sit.  
"Jessie, don't be silly. Just sit over here," you said as you scooted over and patted the spot next to you on the bed. 
Jessie hesitated, but didn't want to make a big deal out of it, so she nodded and came over and daintily took a seat on the far edge of the bed. Her ears burned hot as she felt you shooting her a look, coupled with a soft laugh.  
"It's okay, Jessie. Relax. It's just me." Your voice was warm and reassuring and Jessie felt tension leaving her body once again. 
Conversation started up once more and you talked further into the night. Jessie had no idea what time it was anymore, but it didn't matter, she was happy where she was and didn't want it to end. Eventually, you laid down onto your side and propped the pillow up under your head with a yawn. Jessie was about to offer to leave when you gestured to the spot next to you. 
"Lay down. Make yourself at home," you said.  
Jessie didn't want to get too in her head about this. She did this kind of thing with teammates and it didn't mean a thing. Did it mean something now? Or was it just like with her teammates - nothing. She cast the thoughts from her head and laid down on the covers. When you told her she could get under the covers, she dismissed it and even though she was chilled, she insisted she wasn't cold.  
"So, tell me," you said when a small lull formed in your conversation later on.  
"Tell you what?" Jessie asked, her eyebrows knitted together in confusion.  
"Tell me why you're not surprised that we're compatible," you responded lightly. 
"Oh," Jessie said, her mind suddenly sharpening at the twist in your conversation. Her previous nervousness returned, but this time a certain calm surrounded it. "Well, I mean, we've always gotten along really well. Friendship-wise.”
Old habits died hard.  
“Hm. That’s true,” you said quietly with a nod of acceptance. A couple of moments passed. “In terms of compatibility - love languages aside. What are you looking for? Not friendship-wise. You never say.” 
It was true. Jessie was very tight lipped about it, even with friends she wasn’t in love with. She endured relentless teasing about it, but she just didn’t like putting herself out there like that. However, right now, in the dark, lying next to you, things felt different.  
“I…,” she trailed off momentarily before finding her resolve and her voice. “I want someone who I can be myself with. Someone who will be my person. Who I can talk to about anything and everything. Who I can be vulnerable with – I have to be at my best all the time and for so many people, so to be able to let my guard down means a lot. But, just as easily, I want to be able to have silly and goofy moments together. Someone where doing something as simple as grocery shopping or cooking together can feel like an adventure. I don't know – just that one person who can be my anchor when I'm constantly on the move and trying to live up to others expectations, and I want to be that for them as well, even if I'm 1,000 miles away. No pressure for me – or her – to be anything other than who we are." 
“That’s beautiful. Truly. And you deserve that and more,” you said. Your gaze lingered for a moment before you went on. “Whoever you choose in the end is going to be a very lucky person.” 
“Thanks.” Jessie had to force herself not to protest. And I want it to be you, she thought. Instead, she said, “I mean, same with you.” 
Even in the dark, Jessie spied the small smile you gave her.  
“You’re too nice to me,” you said with a soft chuckle as you nestled into your pillow further. “Thank you, though.” 
“What do you mean?” Jessie asked. A shy smile formed on her face as she went on. “I mean, words of affirmation here, you deserve it. You’re one of the best people I’ve ever met. And, yeah, I feel really lucky to have you in my life. And, um, whoever you choose to be with next…you deserve to be spoiled by them. They should take care of you,” she began to stammer, “well, not like take care of, cause you’re totally independent, which is awesome, but you know, Acts of Service.” She winced and did her best to rally and finish strong. “What I mean is they should make you feel, every day, like you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to them. And that there’s no one else in this world for them.” 
“Wow. See? You’re amazing, Jessie. Honestly. Thank you. That means so much to me.” 
“Yeah, no worries,” Jessie quickly dismissed with a light laugh.  
Neither of you spoke for several moments and the tension became too much for Jessie, causing her to quickly change subjects.  
She wasn’t sure how much longer you talked, because the next thing she knew, she was opening her eyes and you were fast asleep next to her. A rush of panic went through her momentarily before she just allowed herself to relax. She debated getting up and leaving, but she indulged herself instead. It was too comfortable laying here with you and, truthfully, she may never get this opportunity again. She took in your sleeping form and before she knew it she was asleep again.  
The next time Jessie woke up, the veil of relaxation and drowsiness quickly dissipated as she looked down to see that you were cuddled into her arm. Jessie lay still as she processed the situation, but couldn’t ignore the butterflies fluttering around in her stomach. After a few moments, she steeled herself and began to carefully disentangle herself from you. Though she didn’t want to leave, she didn’t want to take advantage.
She took one last glance at you. The first breaks of dawn started to filter into the room, casting you in warm light. A lump formed in Jessie’s throat, the feelings inside of her threatening to overflow. Jessie turned and retreated to her own room to try to catch a couple more hours of sleep. She was positive that if she managed to find sleep, she’d dream of nothing but you.
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fourmoony · 2 days
Note
hey, you could do something with reader telling james (or poly!marauders) that you're pregnant. reader was tense and hesitant about what his reaction would be, as she thought he wouldn't like the idea
thanks for requesting!
f!reader 1k cw: pregnancy
James has his head almost inside the pot of soup on the stove, poking and prodding at it with a wooden spoon as though it may bite him, when you cross through the arched entryway of the kitchen. He turns his head over his shoulder when he hears your socked feet padding across the tiled flooring, glasses fogged up and his smile bright.
"I don't think I did it right." He tells you, forbearing a greeting all together.
His brows hook in the middle when he turns back to the pot, lips pouted just a little. You peek over his shoulder to find a simmering pot of vegetable water and find yourself biting back a smile. Sweet James, your loving and doting boyfriend, always up for a challenge. You don't have the heart to tell him there's entirely too much water and not nearly enough stock in the pot, so you rub his shoulder encouragingly, place a kiss to it, after. "Looks lovely, handsome."
It pulls a warm smile out of your boyfriend, who seems more encouraged by your words than you think he should be. He's so trusting, so loving, leads with his heart and his soul, and nothing else. He puts too much faith in you.
"Remus' never looks like this, but I s'pose thats because he does it in the slow cooker." James placates himself with a shrug, eyes back on the steaming pot.
You hum a mild agreement, pulling yourself up onto the worktop so you're facing James. He likes the company whenever he's cooking. You like the domesticity, the routine, spending time with him whilst completing a task, talking about your day, your friends. It's nice, to be so comfortable with the person you love.
"Did you write down the instructions as he was giving you them? Or are you going from memory?" You ask James apprehensively.
He doesn't reply at first, too occupied with throwing a load of raw potatoes into the pot. They drop to the bottom of the pot with a sickening thud, water splashing over the sides. James winces as a droplet catches the side of his arm and turns to you with a weary look, "From memory. He was going too fast and the landline was crackly."
There's no saving the soup now, so you allow James to continue his ministrations. You'll pretend it's even better than Remus'. Anything for James. Anything to see him smile.
"He said he hopes you're feeling better soon, by the way. Sirius, too." James adds, face dangerously close to the open flame of the gas cooker as he adjusts the heat.
You blanch. You'd mentioned feeling poorly to James yesterday morning, a little tired, a little sick, stiff, the normal beginnings of a cold. The soup makes sense, now. "You asked Remus for his soup recipe because I mentioned feeling a little poorly once?"
James nods, shrugs like it's no big deal.
You've never felt this kind of love before, the kind of care and consideration James has.
"Jamie, I'm not poorly." Your voice is a little unsteady.
You'd wanted to wait, tell him when you'd figured out how you felt about it yourself. Wanted to be sure whether this was something you wanted, something James would want. You know he's a good man, a good person with a massive heart, but you've not been together for as long as you'd have liked, you're not married, there's a list of things that could make James run for the hills and you wouldn't blame him.
But you know him. You know James Potter. He's never ran from anything.
"Well it's too late for that, I've already made the ruddy soup, now." James teases, poking the pudge of your thigh with the tip of the wooden spoon.
"James," You try to garner his full attention, away from the burning vegetable water, "I wasn't poorly."
He frowns, probably trying to pin together the phrase with the way you're acting and comes up with nothing, so he says nothing.
"I'm pregnant."
James doesn't say anything for a minute. You can't read him. Eyes wide, jaw slack, eyebrows lost in the messy tuft of his fringe. Just when you think the silence might choke you, the fire alarm sounds, loud and abrasive. It kick starts your boyfriend's brain and he grabs the nearest tea towel, motioning for you to stay put, and wafts the smoke away from the detector.
After, in the silence that follows, he leans over the kitchen sink and opens the window, turns off the stove.
"When did you find out?" He asks, voice unwaveringly calm.
Your heart slams against your rib cage, scared and begging you to run, "This morning."
James nods, "How do you feel?"
"Nauseous. Confused. Scared."
James softens, crosses the distance between you. His hands are soft on your face when he slots between your legs, eyes swimming with emotion. He smells faintly like OXO stock cubes and his normal cologne as he rests his forehead against yours and heaves a deep breath. "You wanna do this?"
"Only if you do." You answer truthfully.
"I love you, you know that?" His voice comes out hoarse, and you realise he's holding back tears.
Tears spring to your eyes, too, when you nod, "I know."
"There's no one else I'd rather do it with."
Relief washes over you like a bucket of cold water, bringing the air back to your lungs, life back to your heart. You're laughing into the kiss that James presses to your lips, giddy and excited. He presses two gentle pecks there, after, and one to your forehead.
"Holy shit I'm gonna be a Dad." He sounds awed, in disbelief.
You laugh, "Yeah. You are."
"And you're gonna be a Mum."
"That's generally how it works, babe." You say placatingly, thumbs swiping over his rounded cheeks, holding his face in place. His smile is like the sun, bright and blinding. You feel warm all over just looking at it.
"I need to phone Sirius." James announces, turning on his heel to make for the landline.
You shouldn't be surprised, not when Sirius is an extension of your boyfriend's being. So, you simply wait until you can hear James ramming his fingers against the telephone, and dump a couple more stock cubes into the soup.
He can thank you later.
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gadriezmannsgirl · 2 days
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hiii i hope ure doing amazing!!! could i request one for gavi where the reader is more on the curvy side and feels a bit insecure ? if ure not comfortable writing it it’s totally fine !!! sending loads of love have a nice day and thank u for always taking the time to read the requests!!🫶🏻🫶🏻
Warnings: Gavi being a cute boyfriend, mentions of wanting to do mature things with their partner, nothing graphic or explicit happens. No proofread, sorry if there's any mistakes
Beautiful Either Way -P.G6
Summary: He takes your insecurities away
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You sigh the fourth time in a row, you grabbed the ends of the shirt you were wearing and pulled it off of your body. You stood in silence watching your closet and all the clothes that laid inside there but none of those things were enough for you today. You were going out with both your and your boyfriend's Pablo's parents, today.
And also today was one of those days you felt you weren't pretty enough. Ever since you were young, you have fought to meet the beauty standars society sets but that wasn't for you.
Naturally you have a curvy complex and that's not something you can change and whilst you were happy with your body, you couldn't help but feel sad some days because you couldn't wear x type of clothing without being afraid of how you'll look like and if people were going to judge you.
When you first meet your boyfriend, it was while you were on vacation in Ibiza, you didn't think you would take his attention and mostly when your best friend is a pretty gorgeous, skinny with both great atributes, blonde with green eyes.
You were behind him and his group of friends when some dude tried to play smart with both you and your friend, Ana. And luckily, he and his friends helped the two of you out.
"What are you two doing here?" One of them asked
"We're in the UK having a cup of tea. What about you?" You said smiling and with sarcasm on your tone. The guys laughed softly "Sorry, we're here because our vacations, it was supposed to be a group of three but the other girl got sick last minute and we were actually already in the plane so we couldn't back down" You explained
"Is she okay?" Another guy asked and you and Ana nod
"Are you okay?" A brunette with a frown plastered on his face said to you "The guy touched you?"
"Oh no, I'm fine. Thanks for stepping in by the way"
"It's no problem. I'm glad you're okay" He said looking at you as you blush lightly. He clears his throat and talks again "Would you girls like to spend the rest of the concert with us? I brought my sister and she brought some of her friends too so in that way you girls aren't that lonely here" He said looking straight into your eyes. You blushed lightly, looked down at your feet and then up to meet his big brown eyes. You nod
"Sure. What's your name guy with a sister?"
"Pablo. Yours?"
"Y/N"
You and Pablo didn't minded a lot of the concert since then, he was pretty much talking to you, you talking to him about everything and that night you both exchanged numbers to keep in contact.
You both were sad to see the other leave but it was a delight when you both found out the other was living in Barcelona as well and then the rest is story.
Nine months forward you were in Barcelona, with your seven months boyfriend, Pablo Gavi, getting ready for the small meet-up with the family
"Mi amor, are we ready? We need to go, my mom's texting me that they're already on their way and yours said that they were finishing some stuffs to go ther-What happened here?" He cut himself off looking around the floor seeing all the shirts, dresses, tops, shorts laying on the floor
"I don't know what to wear" You whined crossing your arms around your belly
"But you were ready a few minutes ago?" You give him a look and shook your head before looking back at your closet "Why don't you wear that white top I love on you?"
"Because I don't feel like wearing it today"
"Why not?"
"It doesn't match with the jean"
"You can wear the beige skirt you got last month and with this white sneakers, it'll be perfect for you" You shook your head softly
"I don't feel like going with skirt today, Pabs"
"Why not?"
"Because I don't want to" You cried out "Have you seen my legs?"
"Yes, I have but I don't see any problems with them"
"They're as big as yours, Pablo!"
"They're not but even if they were, what's the problem?" You hated how clueless he could be sometimes
"That's the problem"
"Why's that the problem? I love them, your legs are gorgeous"
"Well I don't love my legs and I'm not loving my body either" He stayed quiet a few minutes before he clicked his tongue
"I got it now and it's shame you think that way. They're the most gorgeous legs I've ever seen on a girl and don't even get me started on your body" One of his hands gripped yours as he pulled himself behind you and kissed your cheek
You turned your head to him "You have to say that because I'm your girlfriend"
"And even if you weren't, I'd still say it" You shook your head softly, looking ahead of you to re-start the research of a shirt. "Hey, escúchame" (Listen to me) "You don't have to be skinny to be beautiful, Y/N. Your body, the one you're not loving right now, it's the one that I love, that has me crazy everyday and I'm wanting to do so many things to you to prove you that I'm crazy in love with those gorgeous legs, that I'm crazy in love with these beautiful hips, in love with your tummy, with your breasts, arms, hands, jaw, lips, ears, everything" He spoke into your ear, his free arm wrapping itself around your body to pull you into him. You couldn't help the smile at the mention of him wanting to get you under the covers
"But I did not only fell in love with your beautiful physical appearance. I feel in love with your beautiful personality, your way of seeing good things in everything and in everyone, your kindness, your selfless, honesty, every single thing about you. You're beautiful either way and if others can see that, if I can see that, you can as well and I want you to know it, I want you to feel beautiful because you are. Inside and Out. Understand me?" You nod, your heart melting at your boyfriend's love, you had a smile on your face and your let yourself rest against him
"Understood" You whisper turning around to hug him "Thank you for loving me whenever I'm not loving myself"
"I always will love you, no matter what. But you should love yourself always, curvy or skinny, blonde or brunette, tall or short, you're perfect. You're perfect for me and for anyone"
"I'm lucky to have you" He smiled shaking his head
"I'm the lucky one" He kissed your cheek thrice "Now, we've plans and here's what we're gonna do. I'm going to grab that top I love of yours, I'm gonna put it on you and we're also going to put on that skirt, we'll put on one of my jackets" He got closer to your face, lips being milimeters away "...and after we make out for a while, after we take some pics of ourselves being the most perfect couple in the world" you smiled making him smile too, he was so close that everytime he spoke, his lips crashed onto yours but you welcomed every kiss "we're going to go to that dinner, spend a nice evening with our parents and when we come back, we're not leaving that bed until tomorrow so I can show you how crazy you drive me" You laughed throwing your head back before connecting your lips with his
"That sounds like a good idea"
"It doesn't sound like a good idea, it is a good idea and that's what we're going to do if it's okay with you"
"It's perfect for me"
"Then let's go. Get yourself out of those jeans right now" You laugh pecking his lips once again before letting him go into your wardrobe. You looked at him and smiled, he was wearing white shirt and beige pants with white sneakers.
"Are you going to match our clothes?" He threw the skirt at your way jokingly and with a smile, he answered
"Of course I am. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I don't?"
°°° °°° °°° °°°
Taglist: @gaviymarcsbride @stuckinaf4nfiction @elijahslover @azzpenswrld @http-isabela
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yrluvjane · 11 hours
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ooh how about one where the reader is feeling a bit needy like she wants to be taken care of but she doesn't want to disturb James and he's just the sweetest person in the world about it?? let's face it James is like so boyfriend. Like he's so full of love. For his friends, his partners. It's astonishing. also im so freaking in love with your writing btw. <33
James is everything, really. He is love itself. And you are so sweet. I really do like reading reqs and little messages! Please send more!
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You sit down next to him on the couch, careful not to bump into him to awake him just yet. "Have a little trouble sleeping too?" He asks you, his voice is tired but sweet. Just as always.
You nod your head, "Yeah." and watch him fondly. "My whole body’s exhausted, but my brain is working overtime. And i just really want to sleep."
He looks up at you with a sleep-filled smile and chuckles. You smile, knowing you're probably nothing more than a blur of colour for him right now.
"One of those nights, huh?" He says and looks at you with sympathy, like he's suffering with you. You start to lean on him, and he instinctively wraps his arm around you, pulling you close to him. He smiles warmly and leans back against the couch, and you can feel his body heat radiating off him as you rest your head on his shoulder.
Your eyelids feel like they're about to drop, and you can tell his are, too. You glance over at him, he's barely keeping his eyes open and gives you a tired smile. Leaning your head on his shoulder and pressing yourself a little closer to his chest, enjoying the warmth and comfort it allows you.
His presence, the smell of him, the beat of his heart, and the way his soft hand is stroking your hair, it's like nothing else matters when you're like this.
James's voice wakes you briefly. "Are you feeling better? Fallen asleep yet?" He asks you softly, his eyes are still half closed, and a soft smile is evident on his face.
You nod your head drowsily, "Yeah...just..don't move." You mumble slightly, but you don’t feel like opening your eyes or moving from his side.
He chuckles softly, and you can feel him rubbing your shoulder gently. "Okay, go back to sleep, I'll be right here."
With his eyes still closed, a playful smirk appears on his lips as he lightly teases you. "I love you..."
You can feel yourself turning bright red in his arms, but you are too tired to mind it one bit.
"I love you too," you whisper softly, your voice still sleepy and drowsy. He chuckles softly and squeezes you tightly, pulling you closer to him.
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danytar · 1 day
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“Drowning in You” [Young!Aegon X Twin!Sister!Reader]
Warnings: Incest - Obscene language - mention of oral sex
summary: One night, you were passing by your brother's room to see the maids rushing out of his room, crying like babies. Which prompted you to enter his room and see what what's wrong with him.
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You were in your room with your ladies-in-waiting talking and laughing before they retire to their chambers to let you rest but you couldn't sleep.. It was a rainy winter night a very calm and romantic evening.
So You decided to go out and wander around the Red Keep, specifically your brother's room... your lover'. You put your cloak over your robe and left your room towards his own.. While you were walking towards his room, you saw the maids running from his room crying.
You entered his room and looked around to find his room in chaos and mess. He was clearly angry And very desperate.. you look at him and said “What's wrong Aeg? ”.
He quickly turned to you and wiped away his tears “Nothing ”. he replies
She quickly approaches his bed, holds his cheeks and looks into his eyes “You can lie to whoever you want...but not to me”.
“The servants, the bloody bastards,” He grumbled, not looking at you. His words were barely understandable with all the shouting, his lips seemed on the edge of tears. “They do not listen. No-one listens to me. My mother does not.”
He was about to say something else, but stopped at the last sentence, taking a breath. “I have no-one.”
“Aeg- you said but he interrupted you “Mother.. mother was screaming at me once again!”
He said, his body language seemed very frantic and anxious. His fists were clenched tightly as he stood over his bed. He looked like he was on the brink or crying once again, but his ego was too big for him to cry in front of you. Instead, he punched a few pillows, making them go flying about.
“She’s always screaming at me! But never at Aemond or Helaena. She must hate me.. she must.”
“She doesn't hate you! ”. you reply
“Then why doesn’t she give me a hug like how she does with Aemond and Helaena?”
He started to have his voice break, you could tell he hated to be upset and was trying not to cry. “Why doesn’t she give me sweet words like how she does to Aemond? Is it because I’m not good enough?”
“I think we are equal in this”. you said
“You think we are equal!? She doesn’t treat us as equals!” The boy was getting very angry now, clearly he wanted to have some sort of attention from his mother but she wouldn’t give it to him. So he wanted you to comfort him instead.
“How is it fair. Aemond never gets yelled at, but I do. And she tells him she loves him, but she never says the same to me. You see how unfair it is?”
“Can you shut up for a second? ”. you reply
“I’m just trying to talk to you!” He said, he was a little surprised he got snapped at by you, but this anger quickly turned to rage as he became even more mad.
“I can talk if I want to! Why are you being so mean to me!? he replies.
You immediately pressed his lips with yours to make him shut up for a while. That quick peck was all it took, that little amount of attention put a big smile on his face. His whole body language shifted the moment you kissed him.. as if in that very instant everything that was stressing him out disappeared.
“No one else here loves me, but you do. I think you are the only one who loves me.”He said, laying down back onto his bed as he watched you closely.
He saw you come closer and slowly sat on him. He was still staring at you, his eyes focused on all the movements you made.
It was like everything before you disappeared as time passed. The noises of the world around you two melted away, a soft smile ran across his face.. he didn’t speak but he was enjoying the moment.. he was starting to feel comfortable.. the thought of his mother was fading away..
He pulled you closer so his lips met yours again Your kisses were to gentle and loving.. A few kisses, your gentle and loving lips touching him made his heart feel warm. Aegon’s heartrate quickly sped up as he felt your whole body get even closer to his. His lips meet yours and for a quick moment.. everything feels perfect. Nothing else exists in this moment except you two.
He slowly unbuttoned you nightgown, Aegon’s body moved to the moment as he felt the touch of you soft skin. His hands moved quickly as he undressed you, he slowly pulled off your nightgown until you were completely bare to him.
“You are worse than the whores of the Street of silk, Do you know that sweet sister?”. He was teasing you with the harshness of his words.
“Rude!”. You chuckle and stared at him with a cheeky smile on your face.
“Oh? Am I? ” He said playfully, he was just teasing you. your giggles were what made his heart skip a beat before going back to his normal rhythm.
His hands started to drift towards your chest, his fingers touching your soft skin as he smiled.
“Do not touch ”. You tease him and slap his palm playfully.
“Oh but I want to!”He said, a playful smirk forming on his face as he tried to grab your hand once again, his eyes locking in on your hands.
Eventually, once he got your hand, he started to play with it, kissing your knuckles playfully. It seemed like he was so desperate for love or any sort of affection. His body language was very relaxed as compared to earlier when he was all angry and upset.
“Oh, I'll let you, but first.. ”You look into his eyes and smile slyly.
“What? ”. he smilies back at you.
“I want you to fuck me by using your tongue”. you said.
He smiled at you from ear to ear and then got up to lay you on your back. You wrapped your legs around his neck you smiled sexyly..
He kissed your inner thigh “My pretty little whore ”. he chuckles.
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𖤓 How much would the Hazbin Characters enjoy physical contact 𖤓
Characters: Charlie, Vaggie, Alastor, Husker, Angel, Niffty, Sir Pentious & Lucifer.
Warnings: Wrote this as friendly (especially Alastor's one) but can be read as romantic as well.
A/N: I've been recently thinking too much on how much a few of the characters would enjoy affection I had to write it.
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10/10. This girl would absolutely love any kind of physical contact.
• She would absolutely cry if you started hugging her.
• She will say she's very proud of you for being comfortable enough to hug her.
• If you start being clingy she wouldn't mind at all.
• I belive she wouldn't mind you holding her hand, leaning into her, etc. She will start doing the same if you permit her.
• There would be a point were you two would simply start hugging each other as a way to say hi.
• Be ready because she will definitely look for you when she's feeling sad or burned out, you'll be the one she'll cry on the shoulder and hug until she feels better again.
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6/10. She's not against it but that doesn't mean she will be 100% okay about it.
• She doesn't enjoy physical contact that much, especially not the long during ones.
• If you hug her will give nervous taps on your back and in less than a few seconds will be pushing you away.
• It doesn't mean she hates you, she just isn't familiar with that.
• I feel like you you pick her up in your arms she'll start to panic.
• Will let you brush her hair sometimes because she trusts you won't try anything funny like pulling it.
• If you're feeling really tired she will let you put your head on her shoulder and rest or will just straight up pick you up and bring you to your room.
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4/10. This man does not like physical contact at all and will avoid it at all costs.
• He doesn't trust many people, and trusts even less people touching him. He only let's Rosie and Niffty touch him for a reason.
• If you somehow are able to earn his trust like them, he'll let you give him quick hugs at best.
• Now, you not being able to touch him doesn't mean he won't touch you, on the contrary, messing up with you is his favorite passtime.
• He will spin you around, invade your personal space, boop your nose, give pats on your head, anything that may annoy you really.
• Sometimes, he'll pull you to dance with him when he hears music from the radio, but only when he's in a very good mood.
• Doesn't like being touched but will be very touchy sometimes.
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5/10. He doesn't like it, he avoids it as much as he can, but maybe he can make a exception for you.
• His job is to stay behind the bar's counter and serve drinks, anything beyond that is out of his catalogue.
• He hates when you try to touch his tail or his wings, they're way too sensitive for him to trust anyone touching.
• Doesn't like hugs, he's so grumpy about them and everytime you ask for one he will deny it.
• Now, if you're actually in a very bad mood or something happened to you that made you feel like shit, he won't hesitate to try and comfort you.
• He will put a arm around your shoulder, put his wings around you and try his best to make you a little better and open up to what happened.
• And if you got too drunk at his bar? He will put your arm around his shoulders and help you walk to your room.
• He's a man of words, not actions, but he's trying his best.
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8/10. He's used to being touched, that's his job but he has almost no experience being touched in such a innocent way.
• When you first started being clingy to him he for sure thought you had second intentions and would constantly flirt with you.
• But when he saw you were being genuine he panicked for a quite long amount of time, he just wasn't used to it.
• He would try to avoid you at all costs at the start, he just couldn't help feel his heart hurt everytime you were so nice and sweet with him.
• After a while he would just start to give in and be extremely clingy with you. One of his four arms around your waist, holding your hand, hugging you by the shoulder, he would just take everything from you he could.
• He would 100% let you cuddle with him and put you face on his fluffy chest and brag about how much you seemed to enjoy it.
• He wouldn't stop being flrity with you but this time he would try to make sure you're comfortable with it and make it clear it's all friendly, he doesn't want to lose to one good thing he has.
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10/10. She just doesn't mind, she likes climbing people at random moments and for sure doesn't mind physical contact.
• She doesn't know what personal space is to being with, she already was very touchy with you, she would just turn extra clingy.
• She wouldn't mind being hugged but you should be carefull, she very tiny and you could easily hurt her, but tbh she probably enjoys pain.
• Be ready to turn into her favorite climbing spot, she would climb and sit in your shoulder ar any given opportunity.
• You would basically have to babysit her to make sure she won't be running around with sharp objects trying to kill anyone, wich is kinda hard since she's faster than you.
• Still, besides everything, she would be really thankfull for you to be around her, a lot of people find her crazy and having someone being so nice to her is something she will forever appreciate.
• She's going to give you a bunch of gifts made of dead bugs she killed to show how much she cares for you, so be nice.
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9/10. This poor man is so awkward when it comes to physical affection but would absolutely adore it.
• Absolutely freaks out about it, first he things is you trying to make him let his guard down to attack him, but will start blushing and sttutering the moment he realizes it's genuine.
• He doesn't mind being hugged, holding hands, being close to each other and all that stuff, just tell him first so he can mentally prepare.
• Not a lot of people are nice to him, most think he's just a loser who can't do anything right so he will look up to you a lot and try a lot to be reciprocate.
• He will make you gifts and gadgets as a way to say thanks for your kindness and will order his Egg Bois to follow and help you in everything you need.
• Something tells me that he would love to cuddle up with you, he's cold blooded and he thinks you're warm, can't blame him for that.
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10/10. Bro is touch starved, the moment you're sweet to him he will melt.
• Now, this man, this man would fall to tears the moment you showed any kind of affection towards him.
• He's been isolated since his wife left him, maybe even before that, he never thought someone could care for him again.
• If you hug him, he will hug you back. If you hold his hand, he will smile at you. If you decide to just sit by his side and talk he'll be more than eager to hear you, doesn't matter the subject you're talking about.
• He's very clingy and will want to make sure you're feeling okay 24/7. He'll send you text messages, give your a few of his rubber ducks (one of them even looks like you!) and hold you close with his wings to show a new thing he created!
• It takes a while for him to hug you back normally without tearing up or being extremely awkward about it, but it will come a moment were he just does it naturally. He just appreciates you so much, he doesn't want to ruin anything.
• I personally belive he enjoys cooking so he will either ask you to cook with him or bring you food he made himself. Enjoy your meals from the best cooker ever!
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Hello! I freaking love your writing. I was wondering if you could write Remus x fem!reader fic where the reader is a little 'keep my feelings to myself' closed off-ish person. She is in a relationship with Rem, she loves him but is scared to tell him that, thinking he might not say it back and one day drunk, she comes to his dorm or smth like that and launches why she loves him and all the little things he does that make her happy and how she is scared of feeling so much about someone. And Remus is just melting in his seat cause he does feel the same and much more towards her. I know this might be too specific so if you want you can change some part for better writing flow.❤️
Tangled Hearts
a/n - loved this request so much, I've been having so much fun writing for remus again lately ♡
pairing - remus lupin x gn!reader
warnings - fluff, alcohol, mention of y/n
wordcount - 1.4k
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You sit quietly in the Gryffindor common room, the crackling fire providing a comforting backdrop to the chatter of your fellow students. Amidst the laughter and animated discussions, you find solace in the dim light, observing from a distance, your thoughts a tumultuous sea of emotions.
Remus, your boyfriend, occupies the armchair across from you, engrossed in a book. His sandy hair falls gently across his forehead, and his warm brown eyes flicker with curiosity as he turns each page. You watch him with a mixture of adoration and apprehension, your heart heavy with unspoken words.
It's been months since you and Remus officially started dating, navigating the labyrinth of emotions that comes with young love. Yet, despite the countless sweet moments you've shared, there's one sentiment that remains trapped within the confines of your chest: the three words you long to say but fear to speak.
You steal a glance at Remus, a pang of longing coursing through you as you imagine the weight of those words hanging in the air between you. But the fear of rejection looms large, a specter haunting your every thought. What if he doesn't feel the same? What if your vulnerability drives him away?
Lost in your thoughts, you barely notice the gentle hand that settles on your shoulder, pulling you back to reality. Sirius offers you a sympathetic smile, his eyes filled with understanding.
"You alright there?" he asks, his voice laced with concern. "You seem a bit distant tonight."
You muster a weak smile in response, offering a noncommittal nod. "Just tired, I suppose," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.
Sirius studies you for a moment, his gaze piercing through the facade you've carefully constructed. He knows you better than most, sensing the turmoil that rages beneath the surface.
"Listen, if there's ever anything you need to talk about," Sirius begins, his tone earnest, "you know I'm here for you, right? You don't have to keep everything bottled up."
You nod gratefully, the weight of his words like a balm to your wounded soul. But even as you offer him a small smile of appreciation, you can't shake the lingering doubt that gnaws at the edges of your consciousness.
As the hours stretch into the night, you remain ensconced in the shadows, your heart heavy with the burden of unspoken words. And amidst the laughter and camaraderie that fills the Gryffindor common room as your friends prepare for the party tonight, the anticipation of the upcoming fun swirls around you, a mix of excitement and trepidation as the evening wears on. 
Your friends buzz with energy, exchanging jests and making plans for the night ahead. Yet, you can't shake the unease that lingers in the pit of your stomach, a silent reminder of the words left unsaid.
Later that night, you find yourself swept up in the revelry, the music and laughter washing over you like a tide. But even as you try to lose yourself in the moment, the weight of your unspoken feelings anchors you to the ground. Was Remus waiting for you to tell him? Would he pull away if you didn’t? Or would your admission drive him away because he doesn’t feel the same way?
Hours pass in a blur of dancing and laughter, time and drinks slipping away unnoticed until the room begins to blur around the edges. You've had one too many drinks, the alcohol coursing through your veins and dulling the edges of your worries.
In a haze of drunken determination, you stumble away from the crowd, your feet carrying you in the direction of Remus's dormitory. Each step feels like a battle against gravity, your mind swimming with thoughts and emotions too turbulent to contain.
Your boyfriend had complained about a migraine not long ago. You had instantly gotten up from your seat next to Lily to go lie down with him, but he had told you not to worry about it and have fun, glad to see you let a little loose for once and confident that his friends would keep an eye on you. Unbeknownst to him, Sirius was way past thinking clearly and the two of you had gone all out at the drinks table after he left.
Finally reaching Remus's door, you fumble with the handle, your fingers clumsy from the alcohol. With a sigh of relief, you push the door open, stumbling into the dimly lit room beyond.
"Y/n?" Remus's voice cuts through the fog in your mind, filled with concern as he rushes to your side. "Are you alright?"
You try to muster a response, but the words elude you, slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. Instead, you collapse onto his bed, your head spinning as Remus kneels beside you, his eyes clouded with worry.
"Merlin, you're drunk," he murmurs, his voice tinged with both amusement and concern. "What happened?"
You open your mouth to speak, but all that emerges is a garbled mess of words, your thoughts jumbled and incoherent. With a sigh, Remus reaches out, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face as he surveys you with a mixture of fondness and exasperation.
"I think it's time you got some rest," he says softly, his hand lingering on your cheek.
You nod, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver down your spine as you sink into the comfort of his presence. 
Remus helps you out of your shoes and covers you with a blanket, tucking you in with a tenderness that melts away the last of your worries. As he settles onto the bed beside you, you can't help but revel in his warmth, the steady rhythm of his breath a soothing melody in the darkness.
For a while, you lie in silence. But as the alcohol dulls your inhibitions, a sense of urgency gnaws at the edges of your consciousness, urging you to break free from the shackles of silence.
"Remus," you whisper, your voice barely above a breath as you turn to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. "I... I need to tell you something."
Remus meets your gaze, his eyes soft with concern as he reaches out, his hand finding yours in the darkness. "What is it, love?" he asks, his voice a gentle caress against your skin as he presses his lips to your forehead.
You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for the vulnerability that comes with laying your heart bare. "I... I love you, Remus," you confess, the words tumbling from your lips like a prayer into the night. "I love you more than I can put into words, and... and I'm sorry for not saying it sooner."
Remus's heart skips a beat at your words, the weight of them sinking deep into his soul. He watches you with an intensity that makes your breath catch in your throat, his eyes shimmering and a soft smile playing on his lips. Your breath catches for a moment, the feeling of regret quickly washing over you, but instead of rejection or hesitation, you feel the warmth of his hand tightening around yours, his touch a silent reassurance, urging you to keep talking.
"I love the way you always have a book tucked under your arm, the way your eyes light up when you talk about something you're passionate about," you confess, your voice trembling with emotion. "I love the way you look at me like I'm the only person in the room, the way you make me feel safe and loved."
You don’t give him the chance to respond, a sense of vulnerability creeping in, filling you with a fear you can't quite name. "I'm scared, Remus," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper as you meet his gaze, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Scared of feeling so much about someone, scared of what might happen if I lose you."
Remus's heart aches at the raw honesty in your words, his own fears and insecurities laid bare before you. With a soft sigh, he pulls you into his arms, holding you close as he presses another tender kiss to your forehead.
"I'm scared too, love," he murmurs, his voice trembling with emotion. "But you have no idea how long I've waited to hear those words from you. I love you, too, more than anything in this world."
The tenderness in his voice sends a surge of warmth coursing through you, melting away the last of your doubts. You reach out, cupping his face in your hands as you press your lips to his, pouring all of your love and longing into the kiss.
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teapartyprincess4two · 23 hours
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I need a friends to lovers hurt/comfort fic from you pleaseeee. My request is that reader is upset because something happened with her family and she got daddy issues or something (definitely not projecting😜🥰). matt doesn't know what's wrong tho but tries to cheer her up by getting her a cake or something and then as she's eating she starts unintentionally slowly crying and she tries to hide it but matt ofc notices it straight away. he tries to comfort her but before they could get further and she could start opening up nick & chris came in and she immediately stops and pretends to be fine. they joked around and stuff cuz nick & chris are oblivious to everything the whole time and matt is just impatiently waiting for the time when they get to be alone so he can talk to her and figure out whats wrong. maybe later in the night when everyone's asleep he finally approaches y/n and then they slow talk and he just comforts her and idk just more fluff at the end? change whatever you'd like I'd just be happy enough if you even decide to do my request. thank u and ily <3
Happy Birthday- M. Sturniolo
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pairing: Waitress!reader x Bff!Coworker!Matt
classification: sad, fluff
warnings: use of y/n, cursing, mention of parental issues, mention of family problems, mention of death of parent, mention of alcohol addiction
inspiration: request^^ took a spin on this, hope u like it bby
summary: Over the course of working together for years, Matt picks up on everything and despite not understanding it completely, he comforts you through the hurt.
“Sorry I’m late,” your voice is choppy as you try catching your breath. Quick fingers work towards tying your apron around your waist before flying towards your hair and throwing it up in a haphazard pony tail. You’re an hour late for your shift, an extremely rare occurrence for you.
Matt, who’s currently working the grill, feels a wave of relief wash over him at the sight of you. As the night progresses, the diner is slowly picking up to a steady, busy pace and without a waitress, Nick, Chris and Matt would never survive.
“No worries, I’m just glad you could make it,” he replies. Matt’s eyes always have a habit of dancing over your entire face, today being no exception. He notices the dark circles that formed under your eyes, your sunken in cheeks, and how pale your skin is. Details like this never went unnoticed by Matt, especially not on a day as important as today, and, despite how disheveled you look, he can’t help but be enthralled by your beauty
An array of plates and trays are sprawled on the order window, each of them piled with greasy, hot food. You wear a disassociated, blank expression as you reply, too focused on catching up on the work at hand, “Is this food ready to be sent out?” You yank a ticket from one of the trays, briefly reading Nick’s messy handwriting to ensure everything was correct.
Matt hums in response, deeply intrigued as to what ails you, but not wanting to press any further. As soon as you hear that, you become a task bot and effortlessly send the orders out.
Your incredible work ethic is directly fueled by your need to distract yourself from the reality of your life. It’s your 21st birthday, a day that for most people involves a fancy brunch, meaningful gifts, a scrapbook full of photos, and a drunk night out. 21 was supposed to feel magical, every aspect about this day was meant to be special and perfect.
But you aren’t most people, and your life was anything but perfect.
Your mother has been in and out of your life since you were 8. She was an amazing mother, when she was sober at least, but your parents were always arguing, mostly because your dad worked a lot and it made your mom feel neglected and lonely. The arguments filled her with enough sadness to lead her to drinking and one day her alcoholism consumed her until she just never returned home. You were 13 the last time you saw her, and you spent your entire adolescence blaming your dad for being the reason she left.
So, from the age of 13, you stopped being a kid. While other children were watching morning cartoons before school, a fussy 2 year old rested on your hips as you tried braiding your 8 year old sisters hair. All the while your dad was working grueling hours in order to keep a roof over your heads. His hard work went unnoticed, instead being met with resentment from you.
It wasn’t until you turned 18, when your father suddenly passed of a heart attack, that you realized how much weight and responsibility rested on his shoulders. Upon his passing, your siblings were placed under your official guardianship. It was the inheritance you never asked for, but as the oldest sister you had no other choice.
So, instead of spending the day with friends, you’ve been forced to pick up your parent’s slack. You have two younger siblings at home who have no one else but you. All day you’ve been basically running after them, tending to their needs and trying to make their lives a little less unbearable. And although they’re your pride and joy, the absolute most important part of your life, you can’t help but wonder what life would be like if they weren’t your responsibility.
The trauma and grief has led your siblings to be more of a handful than other kids their age. Your 17 year old sister, Safiya, finds herself falling into the wrong crowds. Money is tight which has led her to develop a habit of shoplifting. It was simple and harmless at first, consisting of her pocketing items such as nail polish and candy bars. But eventually she and her friends were running out of stores with duffel bags full of clothes, the adrenaline that came from being chased by police officers being better than any drug.
On the other hand, your 10 year old brother, Giovani, struggled to make friends. Every week you were receiving at least one phone call that he’s gotten into yet another fight. There’s an inconsolable anger inside of him that causes him to lash out at anyone that isn’t you or Safiya, and when you’re not worried about his temper, you’re nagging him about his failing grades.
Needless to say, your life was not easy. Everyday you played the role of mother, and you often found yourself asking God what you did to deserve this; what you did to deserve a 21st birthday, a life, full of nothing but sorrow and struggle.
“Happy birthday, girl!” Nick whispers excitedly, pulling you in for a quick side hug as you reenter the kitchen. Matt watches as your lips form a tight lipped smile, your sad eyes giving you away immediately. You’re grateful for the sentiment, but still can’t muster up enough energy to actually feel excited.
“Thanks, Nick. I appreciate it,” you return his hug, immediately returning to work.
After a long, busy rush, your break couldn’t have come any sooner. The diner is quiet, the bustling atmosphere from before being replaced with nothing but the sound of groaning trees and the music that plays lowly from the jukebox.
“You going on break?” Matt asks, his arms submerged elbows deep in the sink. “Yeah I think so. I probably won’t get another chance to eat,” you comment. You look visibly happier than earlier, but there’s still a twinge of sadness in your voice.
“Alright, lemme just finish these dishes and I’ll make your food. Okay?” Matt’s voice is soft, almost like he knows that the reason for your sadness runs much deeper than an uneventful birthday. “No! It’s okay, I’ll just ask Chris to do it,” you say, ready to turn on your heels before he can protest.
His words catch you before you can, “I have a surprise for you! Just wait for me, please.” You lazily walk over to him and tiptoe, peering over the large, industrial sink to see how many dishes he has left. He basically has the whole kitchen sitting in the water, “You have so many left to wash though!”
A fake pout forms on Matt’s face, eliciting the first real laugh from you since you arrived. “You can help me?” he suggests, his eyelashes batting over his big doe eyes.
Your resolve crumbles quickly, you were never able to say no to Matt, “Fine, but only because Chris always burns the bacon.” You roll your sleeves up, cuffing them until they’re high enough to keep dry. The sound of clanging metal and swishing water settles between you two as you work towards washing the dishes before the next rush.
“How’s 21 treating you by the way?” Matt asks playfully, eyes momentarily glossing over you as he awaits an answer.
“Well I’m not drunk,” you chuckle, scrubbing at a tough spot on one of the pans. For some reason you feel safe with him, like you can tear your protective walls down and bare the most vulnerable parts of you. Over the course of working together, he’s become a true friend, an unjudgemental listening ear. Everyone else in your life has failed and disappointed you, but not Matt.
“You don’t have to be drunk to have fun,” he replies, hands wading through the sink for the next dish.
“True, but I’m not sure I’d categorize picking my little sister up from jail and getting my brother from school because he was expelled as ‘fun,’” your wet, soapy hands throw an air quote around the last word. You didn’t mean to trauma dump, especially not when the conversation started so light and airy, but you couldn’t help it. There were so many things on your mind, that up until this point, you had been actively ignoring.
“Bet you won’t forget this birthday, though,” Matt jokes, and you’re grateful it’s not a response laced with pity. You laugh, because it was true. One day none of this would matter, it would become an old folk-tale-like memory that you’d someday tell your children.
“Jail, though? Fuck, what did she even steal?” Matt shakes his head in disbelief, how a 17 year old girl managed to get into so much trouble was beyond him. A part of him did feel bad that you were the one struggling with these kids, but he never showed it because he knew how much you hated sympathetic, pitiful treatment.
“Some dumbass jeans that were 3 sizes too big,” you scoff, draining the sink. “I was so mad, I mean it was just juvie and they let her off with a warning because she’s a first time offender, but why the fuck was she stealing jeans? Can’t she steal useful stuff, like fucking milk or something?”
Matt laughs, running a white kitchen towel over his hands to dry them. “And Gio? Was he in on the heist too?”
“Oh please, I wish, maybe then he would’ve been let off with a warning too,” you take the towel from Matt, patting your hands dry as well. “This dumbass got expelled for fighting a kid who told him his shoes were fake. They’re not by the way, Safiya stole those too.”
“So now I have to enroll this kid somewhere else, if they’ll even take him. He has such a bad track record, Matt. I’ll probably have to move my sister to a different school too because she’s surrounded by so many bad influences… I don’t even know what to do,” your voice breaks slightly at the end, the sadness once again washing over you.
Matt brings you in for a quick hug, “let’s just worry about getting you fed for now, yeah?”
“Yeah,” you sniffle, wiping the singular tear that runs down your cheek.
As if on queue your phone starts ringing, your sister’s name illuminating the screen. “Hold on I gotta take this real quick,” you mutter, pulling away from the hug. He wishes he could keep you there forever and tell you everything would be okay, but instead he hums in response, watching you disappear out the back door with the phone pressed against your ear.
When the door clicks shut, he turns into the kitchen, throws some gloves on and begins making your food.
A stack of fluffy chocolate chip pancakes sits next to scrambled eggs and two strips of bacon. Matt knew your order by memory, one of the many details he’s learned about you over the course of your friendship.
Chris’s voice fills the kitchen, announcing his entry, “Does that look good? I don’t know, Nick said it doesn’t.”
While you and Matt washed the dishes, Nick and Chris decorated an isolated booth in the back of the diner. Balloons, streamers, and an iridescent tablecloth adorn the area. A small ‘Happy Birthday’ banner is strung from two parallel windowsills. It was something small and simple, but Matt knew you’d love it.
Matt peers over the order window, briefly examining their work before returning to the task at hand. “It looks good, it doesn’t have to be perfect. She’ll love it.”
Nick walks into the kitchen, fingers tying a knot in one of the balloons, “Are you sure? I’d be so fucking mad if that’s what I saw as my 21st birthday set up.”
“I’m sure. She’ll love it.”
Matt pokes two candles into the stack of pancakes, the number 21 sitting perfectly on the fluffy pastries. He used whipped cream, strawberries, and chocolate chips to create a simple design around the outer edges before drizzling some maple syrup on top. The bacon was broken up to create a smile on the eggs, a corny gesture he thought of last minute.
The back door suddenly opens, causing the triplets to freeze in place. They hadn’t figured out exactly how they were going to execute this, they’d only gotten as far as the decorations and the make-shift cake.
“Nick you go distract her, Chris go change the music in the lobby!” Matt instructs quickly, his voice hushed so you won’t hear him. They scramble into position, Matt managing to hide somewhere in the diner lobby where you won’t see him.
“Nick, what are you doing?” you laugh, feeling Nick’s cold hands cover your eyes. “Shush, no questions,” he replies, causing you to hold back more laughter. Nick leads you into the lobby slowly, your hands holding onto his as they still work to obstruct your vision. Matt watches as you two walk in, his hands shaking with excitement as he lights the candles.
“Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you!” the triplets begin to sing in unison, both Chris and Matt approaching the decorated booth. Nick removes his hands, a shocked expression immediately forming on your face.
As they continue singing the song, you admire the decorations in awe. Suddenly you’re a little girl, the random decorations being everything you needed as a child. The tears begin welling in your eyes, this was completely unexpected.
“Make a wish,” Matt whispers, bringing you in for a side hug as he holds the plate in front of you. You’ve never had a birthday cake before, let alone candles to blow a wish on. And although it’s simple, the makeshift cake is enough to bring the waterworks.
You squeeze your eyes shut, fat tears streaming down your face as you blow the candles out. There’s only one thing you can think to ask for, but you don’t dare verbalize it in fear that it won’t come true. The flame flickers, disappearing into a cloud of smoke as your wish floats away.
“Hey don’t cry! You’re 21!” Chris exclaims, shaking your shoulders in an attempt to lighten the mood, but you can’t help it. You’ve weren’t expecting any of this and it’s quite honestly the nicest thing anyone has ever done for you.
“Sorry,” you chuckle, wiping the tears away quickly. “Thank you guys for this. It’s beautiful,” you continue, bringing the trio in for a group hug. Nick and Chris are the first to pull away, leaving you clinging to Matt.
“You can thank Matt. This was all his idea,” Chris replies. Your arms are wrapped around Matt’s waist, a hug being the only way you can think to thank him. You look up at him, glossy eyes threatening to spill again.
“Happy birthday,” Matt murmurs, a smile forming on his face as he places the plate on the table and snakes his arms around you.
The moment is intimate enough to serve as Nick and Chris’s queue to leave. They sneak away into the kitchen quietly, giving you and Matt privacy.
“Thank you so much for this, Matt. You don’t know what this means to me,” you whisper, eyes locked with his.
“It’s nothing,” he shrugs.
“No, Matt. I really love this. Thank you.” A comfortable silence settles between you, the jukebox playing a calm melodic tune. You haven’t broken from the hug, swaying back and forth as you continue to admire the setup before you.
“Are you gonna try my cake?” Matt asks, using his chin to point towards the table. The whipped cream was beginning to melt into the spongy dough, strawberries and chocolate chips drooping down the edges.
“Mmm yeah, but I wanna stay like this just a little longer.” He doesn’t complain, instead pulling you in closer and resting his head on yours as you continue swaying to the music.
“That was really nice, Matt. Thank you,” it feels like the hundredth time that you’ve thanked Matt tonight. A half finished plate of food sits in front of you, the pancakes being enough to fill you up.
“You don’t have to keep thanking me, you know,” he laughs. Matt sits next to you on the same booth chair, using the balloons that cluttered the other side as an excuse to sit closer to you.
“I do, though. No one has ever done anything this thoughtful for me before... Not like there’s anyone left to do it,” the last part is hushed, he almost doesn’t catch it.
“C’mon, you’ve never had at least one birthday party?” He asks, his fingers play with one of the balloon strings. Despite knowing your tragic backstory, Matt finds the information hard to believe.
“Nope. This is the first cake I’ve ever had,” you admit, feeling sad at the confession.
“Well I hope you at least made a good wish,” Matt senses your shift in emotion, so he’s trying to remain positive.
“Yeah…” your voice trails off, fingernails scraping and picking at the plastic table cloth.
“Are you gonna tell me what you wished for, or are you superstitious?” Matt props an elbow on the table, resting his head on the palm of his hand as he looks at you. The moonlight from outside shines through the window, working alongside the dim diner lighting to illuminate your beautiful face. Your hair is down, the loose strands that keep falling in front of your eyes tucked behind your ears.
The question has you serious and embarrassed, “I’m not superstitious, it’s just a really corny wish.” He gives you a knowing look, one that encourages you to continue.
“You won’t make fun of me?” you ask, looking up at him tentatively.
You take a deep breath, rubbing your thighs in an attempt to ease your nerves before admitting something completely vulnerable, “I wished my dad was still here.”
“I know it’s never going to happen, I’m not naive, but I’ve never had a candle to wish on before so I just… I just wanted to make it count. I know it’s dumb—” your words are quiet and Matt cuts you off.
A gentle hand pulls your attention to him, his thumb caressing your cheek, “I don’t think it’s dumb.”
You don’t know what you did to deserve a friend as kind and loving as Matt. Another tear rolls down your cheek, swiftly being wiped away by Matt’s thumb. Even in your emotional state, you looked beautiful.
Subconsciously, Matt’s moving in closer to you. His eyes are flickering between your soft gaze and the plump lips that call out to him. Maybe it’s the atmosphere, the vulnerability of the moment, or maybe it’s the undeniable crush you’ve had on Matt for years, but your eyes flutter shut and copy him in leaning in.
His lips find yours quickly, you taste like maple syrup and whipped cream. You’re the perfect sweet treat to end such an eventful night. Your hands rest on his shoulders, slowly traveling to the nape of his neck as your lips mould together. Neither of you can seem to get enough of each other. His tongue slips into your mouth, eliciting a small moan from you.
The moment you pull away, you’re breathless. Foreheads are pressed together, eyes locking to keep the intensity of the moment.
“Happy birthday, beautiful,” he murmurs, going in for the next kiss of many.
MASTERLIST
a/n: you guys have no idea how long this sat in my drafts. I kept telling myself it was too sad, but it’s HURT TO COMFORT IT HAS TO HE SAD!
anyways my sweet anon! I hope you like this, especially bc I changed it a bit.
thank u and I luv YOU 💌
-L.A.M.B👼🏻💗
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glittersstuff · 1 day
Text
broken heart - Nico Hischier
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Warnings; casanova always breaks your heart, maybe Nico proves you the opposite.
Rie's note; ////
----------------------------------------------------------
When you started working as medical staff for the devils, you felt like home. You're more shy than a party animal, but the boys make it look so easy to get along with you. You just love talking in your native language with some players. Its hard as swiss german to travel to another country just to work here. Without family or friends. Without knowing anybody.
"Hey y/n! Do I have my medical check with you today?", Nico comes in the training room, looking at you. You nod, cheeks getting red and you do a weird gesture with your hands. He looks so damn good, he could wear a garbage bag and would look hot.
Hopefully Nico looks at you one time in his life like you look at him.
How embarrassing, what your thoughts are as professional worker.
After every session you fall more and more for Nico. It seems so natural talking about everything with him. Honestly you forget the time until someone knocks on the door. Every single time with Nico. The boys mock you about it, too ask him out but you're afraid. He's known as a free minded man and doesn't want a relationship at this moment. You're not a puck bunny.
But you catch yourself enjoying having him around, even if you hide it because you have to stay professional. You can tell him everything. Just pretend how it feels you would dating him. Until today.
Nico cancelled the check up and asked to have a medical staff change. When the head coach told you, it was like a punch in the face. Did you anything wrong? Did you accidentally hurt him?
Nico avoids you, he comes later just not to see you. Your heart feels heavy, breaking down in thousand parts. You just want to cry and its getting worse from day to day.
You have to walk through the training room where the whole team trains but you stopped in front of the door before to get in. Nico does sit ups, talking to his teammates, "you know she's nice, but it annoys me she talks too much about her private life", you start to sniffle. You go through the room, shocked faces look at you. They know you heard that. You just nod and walk on, trying to keep the head high. Its just acting, in your dreams you want to run into the bathroom and crying until you feel better.
The next days you don't speak much while working with the guys. Just some "mh, yes, ok, alright", comes from you. You don't want to bother another one, you really need your job to pay all the bills. You don't want to be the excluded one.
The boys are sceptical, they love your sunshine soul and funny stories, cheering them up with their injuries and being a really comfortable person. The last days you walked under power, like a robot and rarely smiling. You don't talk about private things anymore, just doing the job until time is over. You feel so disgusted on yourself to bother a hockey player about your life. You can't believe you're this selfish.
"Can we speak?", on a practice morning Nico comes earlier that usual just to have a conversation with you. He knows you're always over-punctual.
"I don't think so. I have work to do, sorry", you smile politely.
His big brown eyes looking at you to beg talking.
"What can I do that you talk to me?", Nico asks.
"If you have health issues, yes. I can do my job", you reply little too emotional. Tears coming up but you gulp it down.
"Ok. My back hurts after the last hit yesterday. Can you check it?", he speaks out. Secretly he doesn't have problems with his back but if its the only way to talk with you, he'll pretend.
"Ok, come with me", you quit the conversation.
"Where on your back is the pain?", Nico gets undressed his T-shirt, sitting down on the massage table. He just points at his heart. "My heart hurts really bad". "Do you need a doctor?", you get in panic.
Nico turns around his good looking head, show you with a hand gesture to calm down,"no! My heart hurts because I hurt you".
"How cheesy, Hischier".
"Well your coworker told me you have a crush on me and I really broke your heart. I was talking not about you, it was about an annoying family member! I want to date you but you always stayed professional-", Nico runs his fingers on his hair. He always does this when he gets nervous.
"You didn't want me work for you anymore. I mean i have to be fine with your decision", you say and checking on his back if rips and muscles are okay.
"It was because John asked me to change. He was really enthusiastic about how you helped him well", Nico explains.
He turns around, youre standing between his legs. That's not the position you wanted but it feels alright. It feels safe.
Your skin begins to sparkle.
"I'd like to go out with you?", he takes your arms, looking up with a cute, chill smile.
"Like a date? a date date? with candles and a suit?", your eyes brightening up. "But I'm not just a girl for one night!".
"I thought about mini golf but if you want to, I'll call a restaurant", Nico's brown eyes finding yours. His smile is so precious. "And I only have good intentions for a relationship".
"Yes but I'm sorry I have to work on your back -", you stumble over your own words. You feel overwhelmed by his honest words.
Nico pulls you closer, you can feel his breath on your face. "I don't have problems with my back. If i have it one day, i hope my future genius girlfriend is waiting for me at home to help me with that", he softly kisses your cheek, stands up and pulls his shirt on. Your cheeks burn in a cherry red because of this kiss. Damn he's a really good kisser and you cant wait to get more.
"I hope you mean it in the medical way, casanova!"
"I know you already had a wild dream about me. You talk in your sleep and I understand swiss german", he winks, kisses your cheek again and walks out of the door.
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mt-oe · 2 days
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okok... modern!mizu x reader with mommy issues or has a mommy kink but it factors into their romantic relationship in a good way?... mizu knows that reader doesn't have a good relationship with their mother/was neglected emotionally as a kid; and mizu and reader are both out of college, and mizu is older by a couple years.. could be in any written form but just imagine mizu being more dominant but also being like 'mommy' but still being a romantic partner to the reader. maybe some smut because I feel like Mizu would have such a dirty mouth on her and would use those mommy issues to the fullest? ill take my leave now <3
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧
Hey dear <3
Thank you so much for requesting! Sorry if this took a while to come out.
I hope that you're doing well right now and if not, I hope I'll be able to provide some sort of comfort with this fic.
Enjoy! Mwa mwa :*
warning/s: not proofread, mommy issues mentioned, smut (mdni!), she/her for mizu and reader, age gap, maybe a mommy kink too?
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The ride home was quiet. A bit too quiet.
From the moment she parked her motorbike in front of the cafe you worked, Mizu could already sense that something was off.
It was a small cafe that sold pastries and drinks that you fell in love with despite it being your first job after you had graduated. This was where you also first met Mizu who was already working as contractor for a small engineering firm working on houses and small buildings. The way you carried yourself and the unrelenting smile on your face made her come back every single day, even if she had no work to do.
This time, the odd feeling in the air was so thick it almost slapped her in the face.
Maybe it was the way half of the lights were still turned on, the way she could see you from the window dragging the broom carelessly across the floor, the way you weren't locking up, the way you weren't standing there waiting for her with the usual smile.
There was something definitely wrong.
She made her way inside, noticing your lack of acknowledgement at the sound of the chime as she opened the door. Your eyes looked bothered yet empty all at the same time.
Her eyebrows furrowed, feet walking towards you with soundless steps until she was just right behind you. "Holy shi—Oh, it's just you." You jumped as you bumped against her chest, sighing in relief upon turning around seeing your girlfriend.
"Just me?" She asked, frowning slightly and tilting her head. What do you mean just her?
You scratched the back of your head sheepishly, looking off to side but nothing particularly in focus. "I didn't mean it that way...Look, how 'bout you wait outside while I close up and we'll go home, m'kay?"
Despite how dumbfounded she was, she nodded and went outside, sitting on the curb as she continued to think about how odd you were being. What happened? Why were you acting so strange?
A little while later, you stepped out of the café, turning the lights off and locking up. The same bothered yet empty look was seen on your face while Mizu carefully helped you put your helmet on. None dared talk as both of you hopped on and drove off.
Mizu was definitely a quiet person. She loved the peaceful feeling that silence brought. But there was no peace in the silence both of you shared on your way home. The turmoil in your chest so thick it was almost palpable. It was almost radiating off of you like a heatwave as you held on to her looser than usual, laying your head against her back.
After the two off you arrived home, her eyes narrowed and her frowned deepened as you hopped off and headed straight to the door, even forgetting to take your helmet off. She sighed, following after you and unbuckling the straps off before removing the helmet from your head.
As soon as the door opened, Mizu immediately pushed you against it, pinning you as the door slammed shut with a loud bang that echoed through the walls.
"What's wrong?" she said in a low voice, eyebrows knitting together and blue eyes narrowing further. You looked up at her before letting out a deep breath. You knew there was no getting out of this.
"She visited me today. At work."
A look of confusion painted Mizu's face as she pushed her hand against the wood of the door further. "Who?" she asked.
You bit your lip, resting your head on her shoulder, looking completely defeated. "My mom...She uh..found out where I was working and visited me."
Mizu's eyebrows relaxed a bit at the way you leaned closer to her for comfort, cradling your head softly. It made sense to her. You never really talked about your mother that much except for that time you told her about who was in your family. And even with that conversation, you barely told her anything except for the fact that your mother was 'distant'. However, it was clear to her by the way you looked absolutely bothered, that it was more than just being distant.
She couldn't say a word. It's not like her own family upbringing was the best either. Her own mama signed her up for an arranged marriage with an older dude she barely knew when she was younger. Fortunately, her step-father, Eiji, served as a parent figure for her. He taught her everything she knew about motorcycles and even took her in as an apprentice in his shop. Her stepfather took it as far as passing down her current bike to her, a Honda CB750.
But you never spoke about your father nor did you ever speak fondly about your mother. It must have been very difficult for you.
"Come here." She led you to your shared bedroom, removing your shoes for you as you sat on the bed. "Tell me. What did she say?"
Your hands balled into fists as your eyebrows knitted together. "She's asking for money," you started, glaring at the floor. "My brother is apparently graduating and she wanted to celebrate so she's asking for money."
She looked up at you for a brief moment before sliding your shoes under the bed, then sitting next to you.
"Can't you believe that? She fucking remembered me for money," you said through gritted teeth. "The fuck does she care about my brother's graduation? She didn't even attend mine! She never attended anything when it came to me!"
Your shoulders began trembling as the volume of your voice got louder with each word, prompting Mizu to wrap an arm around you and pull you closer as you told her how cold your own mom had been to you. The way she never even batted an eye when you got sick or injured from club activities, her getting mad at you for asking her to attend even a single parent-teacher conference, each moment she told you "that's what you're supposed to do" for every thing that your siblings would otherwise get praised for, and how you had to teach yourself basic things that a parent should be the one teaching you such as basic hygiene and chores.
It was like you had to parent yourself.
"And now she wants me to fucking send her money?" You sobbed against her shoulder. "She has no fucking clue how hard I worked to get out of that shithole, to be in a place where I actually feel cared for."
Mizu continued to hold on to you, drawing small circles on your shoulder in an attempt to calm you down. Her hand reached up to your face and wiped your tears off. "For now, forget about her."
Your eyes looked at her with an incredulous gaze, clearly still bothered. "But Mizu, she's my mothe—"
"I didn't tell you to forget about it completely,' she cuts you off, grasping your chin to look at her. "But you clearly can't think properly right now, so just forget about her at the moment," she said in a quieter and gentler tone, kissing you softly on the lips.
You kissed back almost immediately, grasping on to the hand she used to wipe your tears away. Bit by bit, the supposedly-comforting kiss deepened, turning hotter and hotter as your tongues tied together.
She pushed you onto your back gently yet firmly, one hand unbuttoning your jeans while the other cupped your breast through your shirt, fingers circling your nipples through the fabric. Who the fuck even let you wear a bra with such thin padding?
A soft, almost whisper-like, whine escaped your throat as she slid your jeans down, tossing it somewhere. You crossed your legs, hands covering your underwear, still a bit shy. It's not like both of you had sex everyday so it was still a bit embarrassing for you.
She chuckled at your shyness, finding it adorable. Her lips captured yours in a kiss once again. "Still shy?" She teased lightly, lips planting kisses from your cheek down to your neck.
"Oh shut up.." You rolled your eyes at her, hands slipping under her shirt and playing with her nipples under her bra before a firm hand grasped your wrists, causing you to stop.
"I'll take care of you, dove," she whispered with a soft comforting smile as she pulled your shirt off. Her eyes scanned your slightly trembling figure as your hands now moved from covering your panties to covering your bra. The slight redness of your cheeks along with the way your lips swelled slightly from crying made you look nothing short of adorable to her.
She grasped your hands gently, kissing them before pulling them away from your chest. "You're so beautiful," she whispered, leaving a trail of kisses from your neck to your chest. A hand snuck around your back and undid the clasp of your bra before tossing the obstructing item somewhere.
An audible deep inhale could be heard from Mizu as she looked over your figure. "So fucking beautiful," she mumbled against the soft flesh of your breast before her lips latched on to your nipple, eliciting a gasp from you.
Her hands pushed your legs open, a sense of held back impatience could be felt from the way she touched you. The tips of her fingers traced your slit through your underwear before pressing down the pad of her thumb against your clit, causing you to gasp followed by a moan as she drew circles around the bundle of nerves. "This wet already?" She whispered in a low voice, the huskiness of her voice sending shivers down your spine.
"Only for you, mommy," you moaned out, biting your lip as you gave her a playful smile.
Holy shit.
Holy shit.
"What did you just say?" She almost growled out, one hand moving from your breast to your chin, forcing you to look at her. The way her hands gripped your chin told you that your words definitely did something to her.
You looked at her through lust-glazed eyes, feigning innocence. "What do you mean, mommy?"
A sharp inhale could be heard from her as you called her mommy again. "When the hell did you learn to talk so dirty?" she asked, lump in her throat as your words awakened some sort of newfound hunger in her.
Her other hand pushed the fabric of your underwear to the side, not even bothering to take it off, slipping her fingers in between your folds. You were so wet, so warm for her. "Doesn't matter..." she mumbled, middle finger rubbing across your sensitive nub. The moans spilling out of your lips spreading the heat of arousal through her body. "...As long as you keep being a good girl for me."
Your moans filled the room as she continued to play with your clit, only pausing to change the position of her hand. Her thumb was now on the wet, sensitive nub while two of her fingers sunk deep into you, making you arch your back as you cursed under your breath.
"Mmh..fuuuck.." you moaned out, eyes rolling back as you felt your girlfriend's fingers curl inside of you. A deep husky chuckle slipped out from her throat at your reaction. "You're taking me in so well, dove..." she said in a low voice.
Mizu began thrusting her fingers in and out of your needy cunt as she leaned closer to you, whispering against your ear, telling you how pretty you look getting fuck-drunk on her fingers and how much of a good girl you were for her. Each word making you wetter and wetter as if you were getting high with her praises.
Your visions became hazy with desire and the sounds of your moans mixed with the wet squelching sounds of her fingers thrusting in and curling inside you filled the room. She shifted slightly and moved down until she was face-to-face with your pussy, giving it an experimental lick before lapping over you clit greedily.
Tears sprung up the corner of your eyes as the pleasure overwhelmed your senses. Your hand reached down towards the back of Mizu's head, pulling on her hair tightly as you pushed her closer to your needy cunt.
"M-Mommy please...I..I'm so close," you almost sobbed out, bucking your hips against her tongue desperately. "Go ahead. Cum." She groaned out, tongue eating you out sloppier, as if she too was desperate to please you. "Cum, you fucking brat."
You finally reached your climax, the pleasure overwhelming you, making your mind go blank. Hungry blue eyes watched as your back arched, face scrunched up in pleasure, toes curled, and your fingers pulled on her hair tighter.
Her tongue didn't stop moving until you finally came down from your high and let out a whine from the short moment of overstimulation. She slowly pulled her fingers out, licking the wetness off of her fingers.
You panted heavily, closing your eyes and turning to your side when you felt your girlfriend's weight on the bed. Her rough hands pulled you closer before wrapping a blanket over both of you and placing a kiss on top of your head, making you giggle.
She watched as you opened your eyes for moment before closing them again, your arm pulling her closer as well. "Maybe I will try to talk to her. My mom, I mean," you said, a pensive look on your face despite the exhaustion.
"Are you sure about that, dove?" She asked, brushing her fingers through your hair.
You nodded and opened your eyes to look up at her. "I can't keep running away forever. And I can always say no or reject her if she says something out of line."
Mizu couldn't deny that she was still worried, but she knew you. She knew that you weren't the type of person to back down on your words, meaning you were definitely going to be firm with your boundaries.
She couldn't help but admire your courage. You were definitely her girl.
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strawb3rrystar · 17 hours
Note
hi I was TOTALLY not stalking ur acc cus it’s so good..nooo way🥰🤞🏼
buttttt I was her to rec a lucifer x reader!preferably fem,but gn is always alr,all the power to u!
so maybe like reader looks super innocent,and is like shorter than him,has a golden retriever kinda demon form and is a overlord,and the reason she is a overlord is cus she’s a assassin and is VERY well known lol.
and luci didn’t know that and is just like 😨 when she casually told him.
you can do this by hcs,one shot,or blurb ur choice :3
Simplicity is far from simple.
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Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Fem! Overlord! Reader
Warnings: A tiny wee bit of hurt, but lots of comfort and fluff
Word count: 534
✰Masterlist
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When you first met Lucifer you were one of the many, many sinners who had never seen him before. You had only ever heard about him in stories. You must admit he looked very different than how you pictured him in your head.
You were immediately enthralled by his charm and wittyness. He was also quite charmed by you, as you were unlike any sinners he'd seen before. After Lilith left him, Lucifer was scared to start dating again. But he decided to give it a shot with you.
The two of you would meet outside his palace, frequenting a small, Imp owned, café. Lucifer liked you very much, and wanted to spend his day with you. The first time he held your hand, he realized that you were smaller than him. The way your palms fit together so perfectly made him giddy inside.
When you told Lucifer you were an Overlord, he was shocked. To him, you seemed way too innocent to even be in Hell in the first place. Your upbeat personality and bright eyes confused him. Most of the Overlords he knew about took on a much more sinister form. But you? You were much, much different.
Since that day, Lucifer heard your name be brought up during the topic of Overlords. So, he had to guess you were very popular. One day, while at the café, he overheard some sinners talking about you. He heard them mention something about assassination, which peaked his curiosity. But he decided to ignore it, focusing on his outing with you.
Later, when the two of you were in his workshop, he decided to ask you about it. He cleared his throat, gaining your attention. "My dear, may I ask you something?"
"Well, you just did. But sure Luci, what's up?" You reply, walking over next to him.
"I heard something today. About you being an assassin? I know it's silly, and you probably aren't even one." Lucifer rambles.
"Oh no, I am." You say, making him pause and turn towards you.
"Huh?" He questions, utterly confused.
"Yeah, I'm an assassin." You shrug, like it wasn't a big deal.
Lucifer rubs his temples then stares at you "And why didn't you tell me, my dear?"
"You never asked. And also, I didn't want my job to change your view of me." You admit, looking away from him.
"Why would that change my view of you?" He asks, tilting his head.
"Well, you're amazing, and kind, and funny. And I'm.. well.. me." You answer truthfully.
"My dear, you're all those things as well. I'm literally the King of Hell, I've seen it all. Trust me, you being an Overlord-assassin doesn't change what we have." Lucifer cups your cheek, turning your head back towards him.
"Really?" Your eyes get the same shine they always have when you're around Lucifer.
"Yes, really." He kisses your forehead. That was the first time the King of Hell had ever kissed you. A smile fills your face as you wrap your arms around his torso. He graciously wraps his arms around your shoulder, holding you close. The two of you stayed like that for a while, just enjoying each others presence.
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Star's notes -> I TOTALLY do not feel super honored that someone is stalking my blog.. noooo way >:}
(Thank you, sweet anon, for requesting!) (Requests are open!)
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Taglist -> @alexandria-fandom @corruptcoder @astrolovedy @perfectlycraftychaos @stressedbleach @idontreallyexistyet @ghostdoodlen @roboticsuccubus83 @blood-heart22 @cirrus-sampling-sanity @hazbinhottel @sugarplumz100 @myamythos @hazbinhappy @samohxt2-0 @mollzaj @sunshines-bright @t0uchst4rv3d | Join the taglist
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elryuse · 2 days
Note
Yandere idol gaeul obsessed with her non idol older childhood friend and snapped when she found out he has a gf
Jealous.
YANDERE IDOL GAEUL X CHILDHOOD MALE READER
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Gaeul, the captivating idol of the renowned girl group IVE, was the epitome of grace and charm on stage. Adored by millions, she danced to the rhythm of fame, her life orchestrated by spotlights and applause. Yet, beneath the dazzling facade, Gaeul harbored a dark obsession.
Amidst her whirlwind schedule, Gaeul's world collided with her childhood friend, Lee Y/n. His presence brought solace, a sanctuary from the relentless demands of stardom.
"Y/n, it's been so long," Gaeul smiled, her eyes betraying a longing that transcended words.
Y/n grinned back, the familiarity of their bond washing over him like a comforting embrace. "I've missed you, Gaeul. It's like nothing's changed."
With Y/n, she rediscovered the simplicity of laughter and the warmth of genuine companionship. As their bond deepened, Gaeul found herself ensnared in the melody of forbidden affection.
But fate's cruel twist revealed Y/n's devotion to another—a girlfriend whose existence shattered Gaeul's fragile fantasy.
"How long have you been together?" Gaeul asked, her voice betraying a hint of forced cheerfulness.
Y/n's smile faltered for a moment. "About a year now. She's amazing, Gaeul. You'd love her."
Consumed by jealousy, Gaeul's adoration morphed into a sinister obsession. With feverish determination, she vowed to erase Y/n's lover from the symphony of his life, leaving only the haunting echo of her own desire.
In the dim glow of her apartment, Gaeul's manic whispers mingled with the flickering light of monitors, plotting each move with meticulous precision.
"She doesn't deserve you, Y/n," Gaeul muttered to herself, her voice trembling with rage. "I'll make sure she never comes between us again."
From subtle sabotage to calculated whispers of doubt, Gaeul waged a silent war against Y/n's relationship.
"Are you sure she's the one for you, Y/n?" Gaeul's words dripped with false concern, her eyes gleaming with malice.
Y/n frowned, confusion clouding his features. "Why do you keep saying that, Gaeul? She's been nothing but good to me."
As the days blurred into nights, Gaeul's obsession consumed her, a wildfire devouring reason and morality.
But in her fervent pursuit, Gaeul failed to heed the warning signs of her own descent into madness.
"Y/n, please," Gaeul pleaded, her voice cracking with desperation. "Choose me. I can make you happy in ways she never could."
"I'm sorry, Gaeul," Y/n replied softly, trying to maintain composure despite the fear building inside. "I can't just leave her like that."
Gaeul's pleading turned into a dangerous edge. "But she doesn't love you like I do. She doesn't understand you like I do. You belong with me."
Y/n took a step back, feeling the weight of Gaeul's words. "I appreciate your feelings, but I need to do what's right for both of us. You're an Idol Gaeul.. And I'm just a normal guy".
Gaeul's desperation turned into rage. "You're making a mistake, Y/n. She's manipulating you. Can't you see that?"
Y/n's heart raced as she realized the depth of Gaeul's obsession. "I... I need to go now."
Gaeul grabbed Y/n's arm, her grip tight and possessive. "You're not leaving until you choose me. I won't let her have you."
Fear gripped Y/n as she struggled against Gaeul's hold. "Let go of me, Gaeul. This isn't love, it's obsession."
Gaeul's eyes flashed with a manic intensity. "I'll do whatever it takes to make you mine, Y/n. Even if I have to get rid of her."
"What The... ". Y/n Tried to get rid of Gaeul but it didn't do a thing. Gaeul's Obsession for him has grown too far and she would do anything to make sure he stays for good.
"Just be a good boy... And let me take care of thingsss babe..... ". Gaeul slowly carress your cold skin, As she giggles and slowly kisses your forehead.
"YOU'RE MINE NOW... SLEEP TIGHT BABE".
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declareqenius · 1 day
Text
all the ashes in my wake
summary: part two of "some would sing and some would scream". wanda and natasha have several heated conversations while they wait for you to wake up. it's been days and both of them miss hearing your voice, and they know the last thing you would want to see is them fighting, but wanda can't help tearing into natasha for everything that happened. natasha's guilt eats away at her.
warnings: mentions of the violence in pt 1, coma
a/n: guys i really just wanted to get this one out. i haven't read through it/edited it so any mistakes are... well, mistakes. but hey! we get wanda in this one! i feel like i could have gone a little darker as far as wandanat are concerned, but we do what we can! i hope you enjoy!
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The infirmary room is cold and sterile and a heaviness settles over the exhausted woman. Wanda keeps hold of your hand as if letting it go means that you'll slip away for good. She's careful of the IV stuck in the back of your hand giving you fluids. In a way, it serves as a reminder that blood still flows through your veins and your heart still beats, and that even though your bright smile and musical laugh don't fill the room, you're still alive.
Wanda brushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear. She doesn't know how many times she has done that in the past three days, but the gesture comforts her. Tucking your hair behind your ear so she can see your beautiful face better and looking into your sparkling eyes is one of her favorite things to do. Your gaze holds so much love and adoration and it always makes her wish she would never have to live without it.
Your eyes are closed now.
Wanda hates every second of it.
Bruce said that even if you don't respond that you can still hear everything. Wanda trusts that he's telling the truth and it wasn't something he said just to make her feel better.
So she talks to you. About anything and everything she can think of. Your favorite TV show that is on the air right now or the book that you recommended and she finally read. How much she loves you and how she can't wait for you to wake up. How sorry she is that she wasn't there sooner. She makes promises that she intends to uphold. Ones about revenge and torture and everything you would hate and tell her not to worry about were you conscious. Wanda smiles at the thought. She won't listen, though. The Celestials hurt her family. Hurt the love of her life. She can't let that go unanswered for.
Right now, though, you are her priority.
The door handle clicks and Wanda doesn't need to look up. She knows it's Natasha coming back from telling Steve and Yelena what happened. Can feel the exhaustion and guilt dripping from her without having to so much as glance in her direction.
"Wands-"
"I don't want to talk to you right now, Natalia. Sit."
Wanda nods to the unoccupied chair on the other side of the bed without taking her eyes off of you. She's being harsh and she knows it. Natasha was there with you. Right by your side. Made to watch as the leader of their enemies hurt you in the most sloppily calculated way. She was powerless against Najma and Wanda knows this, but all rationality left her when she burst into the cell and laid eyes on your bleeding body, slumped over, barely an ounce of life in you, and her anger nearly consumed her.
She almost leveled the entire block.
The only thing that stopped her was Natasha, carrying you in her arms, reminding her that time was scarce.
So yes, perhaps she is being too harsh with her wife, but somehow you had become their entire lives. Their reason for being. Neither of them would know what to do without you, and they came very close to losing you under Natasha's watch.
They will be okay eventually. They survived many fights and many arguments before you came along.
Tears form in Wanda's eyes.
"Yelena is wondering when she'll be able to see Y/N." Natasha's voice breaks the silence. It's rough and scratchy.
"After she wakes up."
Four words and Wanda can feel how they form on her tongue. Her Sokovian accent is thick with her anger and distress despite the words being spoken soft and firm.
"Wanda," Natasha starts to protest but the finality in her wife's tone makes her go quite.
"Nat."
It's then that Wanda decides to look up at Natasha. Decides to let her wife see her and every emotion that makes its way onto her face and every thought that swirls around in her mind.
Natasha pauses for a moment, taken aback by everything she sees her wife going through. The made-up scenarios. The what-ifs. She knows because she went through every last one of them when she was in that cell with you. To see the same thoughts cluttering Wanda's mind, well, it only makes her guilt worse.
She clears her throat, "Yelena is her best friend."
It comes out as more of a fact than an argument.
At that, Wanda turns her attention back to you, "I don't want anyone except for us and Bruce to see her like this. They don't need to."
"They want to know that she's okay, Wands."
"Tell them that she is. That she will be. That's all they need to know for right now. They need to focus on getting the jump on Najma and the Celestials. Our focus is Y/N. I think our family is capable enough to come up with a plan by themselves, don't you?"
Wanda's calmness is starting to make Natasha uncomfortable and she shifts in her chair. She refuses to touch you, though, afraid of what might happen if she did. Would your body crumble under her fingertips? If you were conscious would your body recoil at her touch? For letting you get hurt. For not protecting you like she should have.
Suddenly streams of tears silently make their way down Natasha's cheeks.
"I'm sorry I let this happen."
Wanda's eyes meet hers again and Natasha feels like she can breathe a little easier. It isn't perfect and she guesses it won't be perfect for a long time, but time will help. The fear will linger within both of them because Natasha knows Wanda almost as well as she knows herself, and she knows that neither of them will be letting you out of their sight for a while after you wake up. Until Najma is taken care of, at least.
Wanda tilts her head as she tries to get a better read on Natasha without using her powers. Even if they would help in the moment she has rules for herself: never on Natasha and never on you.
"They caught you off guard. It is a hard position to be in, radnaja."
Darling. The pet name helps Natasha relax a little more, but her hands stay folded in her lap.
"We needed- I needed to protect her better. We promised to keep her safe and I couldn't do that, Wands. I failed her and I disappointed you and... and what if she decides to leave when she wakes up? I would be the reason we came so close to losing her... and then to actually lose her? I don't know if we could survive it."
"Nat... Y/N loves us with everything she is. Just as we love her. I need you to be confident in that."
Natasha wants to scoff but instead she fidgets with her hands, "Confident? In what, Wanda? That she'll wake up and we'll pretend everything is fine and that we're not the reason she almost fucking died?! That the two people she loves most in the world couldn't protect her like they promised they would? I was powerless Wanda! I couldn't stop them! I-" Natasha's tears flow freely and although the tension in the room is building, she feels safe enough to let herself go in the presence of her wife, "I couldn't save her!"
"Natalia Romanova-Maximoff!" Wanda stands for the first time in hours but she does not drop your hand. It's the only thing grounding her right now. "This is not entirely your fault, radnaja. Maybe if you would have kicked and punched more when they took you then we would be in a different position. Maybe if you had given Najma the answers she was looking for then Y/N wouldn't have been injured as badly as she is but these are all what-ifs, Natasha! What if I had been there with her instead? What if I had been with both of you that night? What if I would have gotten to you sooner? What if she had died!"
Finally, the question that has been on both of their minds since Bruce had walked into the meeting room with your blood all over his neatly ironed button up and jeans- he didn't have time to even think about putting his lab coat on- and told them that you would eventually be okay.
"I have been asking myself that question every day for the past three days," Wanda finishes, salt on her tongue, nose red, and her scarlet hoodie stained with tears.
Natasha cannot find it within herself to tell her wife the new information Bruce gave her in the meeting. While he operated and stitched until he could barely stand any longer; you flatlined once. Your heart decided to give up for a minute and Natasha hasn't had the proper amount of time to process something like that, but the time would never come for Wanda to be able to process the reality of such a thing.
Both women stare down at you with puffy eyes and red noses. You are the most precious thing in the world to them. They hate seeing you so lifeless, and the only wave of hope keeping them afloat is your steady breaths.
The fight has left both of them, but an air of tension remains. They are nowhere near finished with their conversation. With taking their frustrations out. Hopefully they'll have everything figured out before you wake up. Natasha knows how much you hate playing peacemaker when they actually have fights and really get going at each other, but she also knows that her wife can hold a grudge.
She doesn't think Wanda will actually hold a grudge after you wake up, but for now her anger and grief towards Natasha are the only things emotionally anchoring her to reality.
"I miss her, Wands," Natasha sniffs and wipes the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand.
"Me too, Natalia. Me too."
They sit in silence for a minute, taking everything in. There are no windows in the room and during the day that means zero sunlight. You always say that time in the sun is one of the most important parts of your daily routine, and it always helps you cool down when you're stressed out or in a bad mood.
Natasha is the first to break the silence, speaking directly to you.
"You are going to hate this room so much when you wake up, detka," she muses with the smallest smile.
Wanda only glances at her before turning her attention back to you and sitting down in her chair, trapped in her mind just as Natasha is, but not all hope is lost and for that, the older woman is grateful.
"Believe it or not, she was the calm one. During everything."
"Natasha."
Her name is said softly although there is still a warning behind it, but she needs this and she believes that Wanda does too. Even if she doesn't know it yet.
"Please, Wanda."
Wanda just sighs and nods, never taking her eyes off of you.
"Najma had me struggling within ten minutes. Begged her to take me instead and to let Y/N go. I don't know why I thought it would work, but I think I just wanted Y/N to know that even if I couldn't get us out of there in that moment... I was trying. I would keep trying."
Natasha's voice is still scratchy as her exhaustion slowly catches up with her.
"Y/N was so firm with me. She said not to tell Najma anything and she meant it. I don't think I've ever heard her be that direct before, but she left no room for argument. She knew what the information would do to the family because she... she sees us as her family, Wands." The redhead sniffs and wipes at her eyes when her tears return, making a prominent trail down her cheeks.
"We are all she has left and she means the world to us! And... and I let her down so much. So, so much, Wanda. She stayed so calm! She did so good! She talked to Najma. She had a conversation with the woman who had a knife to her cheek!" Natasha's laugh is reserved, but her features are shock-ridden and amazed, bordering on flabbergasted and anxiety-filled.
Wanda finally looks up at her wife. Natasha is starting to spiral and there is no way to stop it other than just letting her get it all out, so the Sokovian keeps listening to and watching her wife. The recount of events is told with animated hand gestures and tears gliding down Natasha's cheeks, and Wanda's heart clenches.
"We were doing so well. She was doing so well. Then, Najma stabbed her and my heart dropped. I thought it was over. I thought we had lost her for good." The hand gestures come to an abrupt halt and the tension in the room is once again palpable, but not so much as before.
Natasha looks down at you with pleading eyes, "Please forgive me, malyshka," she drops to both knees and finally takes your hand in hers and whispers, "please."
She kisses the back of your hand delicately and you can feel each tear drop as they land in the exact spot she kissed. There is no need to wonder why your girlfriend is crying. You remember everything.
Your eyes slowly blink open to see Natasha's own eyes closed and Wanda staring at her wife with a thoughtful expression. The love they have for each other makes you want to smile, but the urge to reassure your sobbing mob boss girlfriend wins.
"I..." talking hurts but you need to say the words. Natasha needs to know! "Forgive... you. Always... Natty."
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penvisions · 2 days
Text
by the grit of sandpaper {chapter 3}
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Pairing: Jackson! Joel Miller x Patrol Partner! Reader
Chapter Summary: With the overnight patrol behind you, it's now time for your annual leave from the roster altogether. But Joel doesn't know that and you're hesitant to tell him, feeling like it would be the best for you two to get some distance. But as with all things involving the man, it was hard to keep the distance.
Word Count: 7.2k
Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, illusions to past death, illusions to past trauma, blood, hurtful language, town gossip, rumors, negative feelings, pining, heart of gold joel, carpenter joel, woodworking joel, artisan joel, patrol partnership, lots of feelings, slight angst, hurt and comfort, joel miller's hands need their own warning, two (2} instances of joel miller gently touching reader, intentional flirting, unintentional flirting, talk of pregnancy, casual intimacy, urges to kiss joel miller get their own warning, sexual content, masturbation (f and m), yearning, protective joel, tommy is a scheming lil brother and we love him for it, fluff, this is so unbelievably soft, reader is described as smaller than joel (bc c'mon), reader has a commonly used nickname but no assigned name, joel and reader pov
A/N: i'm not really back in wake of some bad comments and confrontational haters, but love y'all ♡
ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi
A knock on your door the next morning caught you bundled up and out in the backyard, the sound echoing throughout your empty house. It was small: a simple one with a larger than average kitchen, a living room, one bathroom across the hall from the bedroom, and a laundry / mudroom with a deep utility sink and a few cabinets of storage. It’s where you kept the tools for the garden, where you washed and prepped everything you managed to grow before moving it into the kitchen space. But you were on the modest back porch, a cup of steaming coffee cooling in the early morning air as you looked out at the trees that took up a good chunk of the large area.
Dragging your eyes from the one that looked like it was about at the end of its life, a large crack running down through the trunk, you heeded the knock at the early hour. Knowing it could only be one of four people.
“Was worried I woke you for a moment, you sleep okay?” Maria greeted you as she waddled past you and moved into the kitchen. She spied the other cups worth of contents in the coffee maker and sighed in longing. The scent of it heavy in the air, mixed with cinnamon you were apt to put in with the grounds before brewing. But her sigh turned into a delighted hum as she shifted her attention to the cooling pan atop the stove and moved closer to inspect the baked goods settled on it.
“Probably not much better than you, momma. How you feelin’?” You slid a plate to her as she began to pick pieces off from one of the flaky breakfast hand pies you had made. She placed the one she had begun eating along with another before following you to the large table that ran through the middle of the room. Setting it down and pulling out the chair for her, you helped her to lower into it. With a caressing touch to her swollen belly, permission given from her months ago, you began to set up a kettle for some tea.
“Big.” She stuffed a large bite into her mouth, eyes fluttering at the taste of the filling. Crumbs of the flaky crust sticking to the front of her shirt, jacket having been shrugged off. “Olive, these are fantastic. Is there anything in here I shouldn’t be eating?”
“I wouldn’t have let ya get your hands on it if that were the case. Just bacon and onion jam, eggs, a little bit of milk, and a whole bunch of thyme. Nothing too bad.”
“Nothing too bad, my ass. You should totally make these for the mess hall on your next shift.”
Another knock on the front door stole the words from your mouth and you looked to the woman who all of a sudden had great interest in picking the crumbs from where they had fallen.
“Maria, what is this?”
“Can’t I call on a fellow morning bird without ulterior motives?”
“You could, but you didn’t this time around. I don’t get many visitors so I wonder who you- Oh! Good mor-morning, Joel.” Surprise overtook you as you were suddenly face to face with the man over the threshold of your front door. He was bundled up as well, though his hair was wet, slicked back and shining in the early morning sun peeking over the mountains.
“I just figured we could all chat about the Teton route.” Maria’s voice carried from the kitchen. But it didn’t break the stare you could feel as Joel’s eyes took in the apron you had thrown on earlier.
“Mornin’.” He rumbled, a hand reaching out from within his jacket pocket to swipe at your cheek. His touch burned, but you were frozen in place at such a forward action so early in the day. Lips parting as you tried to pull in a breath but you were sure all you managed to do was huff out what air was already in your lungs. “You got a lil flour or somethin’.”
“O-oh, um, thank you.” His hand lingered, the back of his knuckle dragged down your cheek and then the finger curled around the neckline, tugging slightly. Nerves sparkling as you felt the warmth from his hand so close to your neck, you could only swallow as his eyes finally met yours with a playful grin displaying that damned, endearing dimple normally hidden in his scruff.
“Never seen you so homey before, it’s a good look on you.” His voice was tipped low, just for you and you felt your stomach lurch.  When you didn’t say anything, just continued to stand there caught like a fly in his trap, he chuckled and asked if you were going to let him inside. It was then you realized he had inched closer, crowding you in the doorway, with his hand still around the strap of fabric over your neck.
“Oh! Of cour-course, I’m so sorry. It must be the early hour taking my manners.” But you knew he wouldn’t believe that for a second, he knew you were a morning person. Something you had revealed to him on patrol. Just like he had revealed to you that he took any opportunity to sleep in, apt to hit snooze an embarrassing about of times if the sound even reached him. You had both laughed at the polarizing tendencies, ribbing each other about it throughout the day. It had been a good one, free of the underlying…tension of whatever had shifted when you had pressed your lips to his injuries. Something you would take back if it meant cutting the undercurrent of whatever had befallen your interactions.
“There’s, um, breakfast hand pies and one last serving of coffee,” You spoke as you turned your back on him and went to retrieve your own mug from the porch.
After the shuffle of greetings, of ushering Joel to take a seat at the table. You plated up two of the hand pies and poured the last of the coffee for him, setting it down in front of him with a small smile before fetching the whistling kettle and preparing a cup of tea for Maria who was already a bite into her second pastry.
“Now, the horse you two lost.”
Joel made a surprised sound, mouth biting into one of the pastries on his plate.
“It was my fault.” You rushed out before Joel could even respond around his mouthful. His eyes flicked to you across the table where you had finally taken a seat, watching as you willingly took the blame for the unfortunate event. “I wasn’t quick enough taking down the Infected that were coming at us. Two of them had set their sights on her, with all the noise she was making while another went after Joel on the ground.”
“And there was no use of anything other than the shotgun?”
“That’s correct.”
“Joel, do you agree with her synopsis?”
“Yes. She acted fast, but there was no way Kiana was gonna make it back, she had been freaking out the second they came outta the tree line, most likely would’ve run off.”
“She always was easy to spook, that’s why she was designated as your horse, calmed her down and got her to focus.” It made sense, Joel was a very level headed person, capable of gently focusing someone should their minds or attention wander.
“I wish every incident discussion was this lovely. No arguing, good food, people who don’t want to go around in circles. You two are truly one of the best pairs we have on the roster.” Maria stirred in a bit more honey into her tea, taking a sip as she looked you both over.
A nervous laugh bubbled up from you as you dug into your own pastry, unaware of them sharing a look.
“This is amazing,” Joel offered, reaching for the kitchen towel folded atop the table to clean his hands off. “You should make these your next shift at the mess hall.”
“I just told her that, imagine the buzz they would cause.”
“They’re not all that special.” You muttered, shoulders rising as you felt rather put on the spot.
“This filling, these onions? It had to have taken a lot of concentration to reduce them down so soft but not mushy. Take the credit where it’s due.” Joel hummed his agreement as he reached for his mug.
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“You’re off patrol this week and next, to do your annual thing.” Tommy announced as he sat beside you, his tray thudding against the top of the table, laden down with food from this mornings offerings.
“I can still patrol and get what I have to done.” You didn’t look up from the notebook you were writing in, trying to map out the way you were going to turn the harvest of the olive trees in your backyard into. If you were being honest, patrol twice a week wasn’t so bad with the added allure of Joel Miller. But it would be hard to juggle it paired with the time of year. Every autumn you took out your dirtiest, most ratty pair of overalls and got to work picking the fruit from the trees. Taking your time to sort them, wash them, turn them into oil and pickle some of the others. It was just you, hands aching at the end of the day from spending it all at your kitchen table with various tools. But you wouldn’t trade it for the world.
The kitchen was your happy place. Even after the end of the world. Or maybe in spite of it.
But this year, you didn’t want to miss out on patrol, normally taking the two weeks off to sort everything out and give all your attention to the gift of fruiting trees. Even if…you felt like it would be good for you to get some space from the man you felt in every other thought. The past two weeks had yielded quiet patrols, just the passing of a thermos between hands. You were sure you had overstepped a line by pressing your lips to his face, lost in the moment of adrenaline and want after those Infected had tried to turn you both.
His eyes were heavy on you when he thought you weren’t looking, but searching for what you didn’t have the faintest clue. Perhaps he was thinking of a way to bring it up and let you down gently. Tell you that he hadn’t appreciated your affections that way. Whatever went on behind that handsome, rugged face you hadn’t a clue.
“We both know that’s a mighty lie,” He stuffed an overfull spoon of grits into his mouth, humming around it as he pointed the utensil at you. “Didn’t you say this would be the last year for one of them?”
Sighing, you set the pencil you had been writing with down. Trading it for the cup of coffee in front of you.
“Unfortunately, the trunk spilt when we had those winds come through in February. I’m surprised it bloomed any fruit to be honest.”
“It’s a fighter, like it’s caretaker.”
“Oh hush, tryna flatter me.”
“Don’t you know it.” He winked, cheeky smile growing wider underneath his mustache as his eyes caught sight of something over your shoulder. You were about to turn to see what had him so delighted when a pair of hands placed a tray right next to you. The burly form of Joel huffed as he settled into the seat beside you.
“Mornin’.” He greeted, placing plate of toast in front of you, his hand momentarily brushing against yours before he dug into his own food. You felt heat bloom up your neck and across your cheeks as Tommy feigned a cough to cover up a snicker. Joel leveled an unimpressed stare at the man, an eyebrow cocked and a warning in his eyes. You pretended not to see it, busy slathering a piece of the gifted toast with some butter left out on the tables for the breakfast service.
“Good mornin’, brother.” Tommy lilted, face lit up with something you were hesitant of. Scheming, the man was scheming, up to absolutely no good. And you had a hunch it involved not only you but the man beside you. Taking a bite of the toast, you noticed the way his face twitched before he started whatever he was up to. “How are you today?”
“Fuck off, Tommy.” The older man didn’t even look up from his plate, knowing from years of experience that his brother was aiming a mischievous look his way. “I gotta list a mile long of stuff to do this week and next, don’t have time for whatever else you’ve taken on.”
“That’s a shame,” He took another heaping bite, chewing it thoughtfully as he looked between you both, taking in the way neither of you were willing to look at the other. “Sorry, Olive. Looks like you’ve gotta fell that tree on your own.”
“That’s okay. I’m a big girl, did it the year before last and I’ll do it again this time around.” You downed the last two gulps of your coffee. Gathering up your notebook, you shoved out of your chair and stood, preparing to walk away. But he scrambled, quick on his feet and determined. Joel glanced at you, a parting nod the only indication from him.
“Well, seeing as you’ll be off patrol the next two weeks, that should give you enough time to take care of it.”
“Tommy!” You whirled around on your heel, eyes wide. You hadn’t wanted Joel find out this way, from his trouble making little brother with you right beside him.
“What’s he talkin’ about?” Joel turned with a loaded fork halfway to his mouth. Forgotten in wake of the sudden news. He looked taken off guard, shock coloring his features as he looked to you for answers.
“Didn’t she tell you, brother?” Tommy set his own fork down, tray nearly empty now. “Olive always takes this time of year off to tend to the trees. Harvest and make that lovely oil you see everywhere around town.”
“That’s yours?” His eyes danced around the mess hall, taking in the incriminating glass jars atop every other table. The light green contents revealing the literal fruits of your labor. The hours you would spend hunched over your own kitchen table working away on ensuring everything was perfect. He looked down to the warm plate of food in front of him, the roasted potato hash and scrambled eggs. “You’re the reason the town has cooking oil?”
“Yes, it is.” Feeling pleasure flutter at his impressed tone, you knew your voice had taken on a breathy quality. If Tommy’s growing grin was any indication, his teeth sparkling as he watched the two of you across from him. Joel had turned completely in his chair to face you, while you had pivoted your body in his direction. Both of you undoubtedly drawn to each other even in the most casual of ways.
“What are you gonna do with the wood? Didn’t you burn it and mix the ashes into the soil last time?”
“Yes, I did.” You gripped the notebook tight, fingers aching from the pressure. “It helped to reduce the acidity of the soil and ward off slugs from targeting the blooms once spring came around.”
“Well, uh, I can come by and lend a hand. If you needed it, but I don’t want to intrude if you’ve got it all under control.” Joel ran a wide palm over the back of his head, fingers brushing through the curls as he offered his help in a round about way. Something you suspected Tommy had anticipated. It took you a second to process his words, remembering the feel of his hair tangled around your own fingers. It had been soft despite a days’ worth of travel and an overnight stint atop a dusty mattress. You wondered how he cared for it, what it looked like slicked back fresh from the shower, water dripping from the ends of it and-
“Oh, that’s okay!” You shuffled on your feet, shaking the rather intrusive thoughts and not wanting to burden the man with another task. “You just said you’ve got a lot to do, don’t want to add to it.”
“I could shuffle a few things around, clear up an afternoon to come help ya out.” He insisted, something smoldering in his dark eyes. His tongue ran over his bottom lip as he regarded you carefully, as if he had noticed the lingering gaze on his movement. He shifted to pull that damned little note pad of his own from his back pocket and flipped it open. Looking over the long list penciled on the page.
“No, no, it’s okay, really. You don’t have to do that, Joel.” You waved your own notebook at him, hoping he realized you kind of wanted the space from him. Kind of needed it, actually. To get the image of his softened face out of your head and the ability to look at him without feeling a jolt of desire strike through your body. Space would probably be good, would allow you to reign everything in and be better equipped to ride alongside him once again. The lines had begun to blur and they needed to be defined.
“It’s no problem, I can-“
“It’s really okay, I can handle it. But uh- th-thanks for the offer.” You scurried away before he could add your name to the list among his other tasks. “More important stuff to tend to than a me-measly tree.”
“I really don’t’-“
“I’ve got it.” You called over your shoulder, leaving the two men to their breakfast.
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The second you were walking through the door, Joel rounded on the younger man. The shit-eating smirk was securely in place among his brother’s features across the table. Irking Joel further.
“Shut up.”
“Oh brother, you got it bad.”
“Shut up, Tommy.”
“C’mon, she could really use the help. It’s just her.”
“No one offers to pitch in? The other women with personal gardens all help each other out.”
“It’s the age gap. Olive’s about a decade or so younger than them.”
Joel contemplated his brother’s words, thinking back on the thinly veiled disdain Marsha had voiced to him the last time he had been tending to the woman’s home. He knew you were younger, but he hadn’t anticipated it causing any problems with the rest of the settlements occupants just how it wasn’t the cause of any between you and him. At least, not any real problems. Age was just a number nowadays, if you were alive, you were alive. If you weren’t well, you weren’t. Friendships and connections blooming between people regardless of age and backgrounds in abundance as people clung to what they could in order to survive.
“Does anybody ever…talk about her to you?”
Shifting from annoying little brother to something more serious, Tommy looked over his brother as he chewed the bite he had just taken.
“What do you mean?”
“Marsha seemed to insinuate that Olive is common topic of discussion.”
“Marsha doesn’t like Olive. Never has.” Tommy scowled, stabbing at a chunk of potato rather harshly.
“Does it have to do with the patrol you won’t tell me about?”
“…yeah.” Tommy was suddenly very interested in the rest of his food, ignoring the look he could feel Joel pinning him with from across the table.
“Tommy.”
“Her old patrol partner was someone she showed up with, when we first brought her here. He and Marsha’s daughter got on quickly, were engaged within a year and planning on havin’ a kid or two.”
Joel was silent as he picked at his food. Marsha’s daughter, Millie, didn’t have any kids or a husband that he knew of. The two women sharing a home close to his.
“They blame her for what happened.”
“What did happen?”
“Joel, you’ve gotta ask your girl that. It’s not my place to give details.”
“She’s not my girl.”
“But you want her to be, c’mon, I can see it plain as day.”
“We are not talking about this.”
“I think she likes you back. But it’s hard to tell since she doesn’t get a lot of interaction around town aside from when she’s trading or cookin’.”
“She don’t like me like that. We’re just…friendly.”
It wasn’t friendly the way Joel took advantage of any reason to touch you. From soothing minor injuries, to brushing his fingers over yours as he passed you something, to brushing things you tended to smear along your cheek. Just to hear the hitch of your breath and to witness the way your eyes widened. It wasn’t friendly the way you were the last thing he thought of at night and the first thing he thought of when he woke up. It wasn’t friendly the way his gaze lingered on you while out on patrol or when he caught sight of you around town.
It wasn’t friendly the way he spent hours in his workspace sketching out designs and carving into wood in the hopes that you would enjoy what he was creating.
It wasn’t friendly the way he didn’t engage with you for worry of making you nervous, like he noticed he had begun to do. Stuttering every other word around him and others in a habit he couldn’t figure out was his fault or something you were just prone to do. It wasn’t friendly how he wanted to see if it was just him that caused it, wanted to see how quickly words would fail you completely if he were to focus his attention on you in a more than friendly way…
But his brother didn’t know anything about that.
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Never one to miss out on the chance for a slow morning, you allowed yourself to wake up naturally.
The sun was just beginning its descent from the highest point in the sky, peeking in through the drawn blinds of your bedroom.
Your body was warm underneath the covers, sleep making your mind take the sensation and let it influence your dreams.
A large body hovered over you, looming like the mountains around the settlement. Protective, a sight to behold at any time of day, as steady as the day turns to night. But the body was so much closer, pressing your back down into the mattress, making your head spin with the heady feel of it.
Thump, thump, thump.
Heart beating hard as pleasure coursed through your veins, brought to life by the feeling of fingers smoothing over your skin. Trailing down over your belly button and through course hair to find your slick folds. Delving between them, parting them, caressing over your fluttering core and then in, producing an obscene sound as they filled you up. Another set of fingers gentle nudging that little bundle of nerves to light your body up even further, heat encompassing you, suffocating you as they quickened their pace.
Thump, thump, thump.
Your heartbeat was harsh in your ears, roaring loud and with a jolt, you realized it wasn’t your heart. It was the sound of someone knocking on your front door.
Eyes flying open, the phantom sensations of being pinned down, of thick fingers caressing the most intimate parts of your body, of the rasped-out nickname in a voice that wasn’t real were ripped from you. You were alone in your bed, your hands the only ones bringing you pleasure.
“Olive?” The faint call of that deep voice your mind had tried to convince you was whispering sweet nothings in your ear was down the hall and on the other side of your front door.
What was Joel Miller doing calling on you in the middle of the day, effectively splashing a bucket of cold water over you as you realized you had been fantasizing about him as you touched yourself.
Embarrassment and guilt squashed the pleasure that had been consuming you, lingering tingles making it hard to clear the fog of your sleep hazed mind. Throwing on the robe hanging on the back of your bedroom door, you took a deep breath to steady yourself before approaching the door he knocked on again.
He must’ve been preparing to walk off when you swung your door open, his back to you and a hand on rubbing on the back of his neck. He turned back at the sound, eyes taking in the disheveled form you were sure you made in your doorway. It was the afternoon, and here you were in a robe and hardly anything else, being pulled from your bed.
“Oh, hey- you were sleeping.” His eyes quickly averted, a hand waving at you as a blush crept up along the apples of his cheeks. You wondered what had him so flustered, his hands clenching and unclenching just below the sleeves of his jacket.
“I should’ve been up already, it’s okay.” You said quietly, taking in the bulk of him on your small stoop. It was a little disorienting, mind imagining him and now being faced with him so close. “D-did you need-“
“Was coming by to see if you needed any help with taking down that tree Tommy mentioned.”
You fell silent at the way he cut you off, his words low like your own, as if he was frustrated.
“Cause if you did all you had to do was ask.”
“I-I didn’t want to add to your list, that little notepad is always so full of-“
“I offered too and you said no. But you’re not even doing what you took the time off for.”
“Excuse me?” You leaned back from him, worry and your own annoyance flaring. Just because you took one morning to yourself didn’t mean you were shirking your responsibilities. His words hitting too close to the wound that everyone else’s had dug close to your heart.
“You take the time off every year, which you didn’t tell me about. Tommy blurted it out to get some sort of satisfaction out of your miscommunication and you’re not even taking care of the trees.”
“Joel-“
“You know what, just, never mind. I’m heading around back to take care of it for you. Go back to bed.”
And then he was stomping down the steps and rounding the side of your house. The gate creaking open to signal his entrance to your backyard.
“Well, excuse the fuck outta me, Mr. Miller.” You mumbled as you shut the front door and moved back to the bedroom. Dressing in a ratty pair of jeans and a long-stained t-shirt in a rush. Putting up your hair as you walked into the back room to retrieve the axe he would need for the work he took it upon himself to do.
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It was hard not to stare, your eyes glued to the man as he expertly wielded the axe and chopped down the damaged olive tree. He had shrugged off his flannel after trimming it of the few branches that stretched from the trunk, leaving him in just the t-shirt he donned underneath. A crisp white that displayed the sweat on the small of his back and between his broad shoulders. A crisp white that displayed the bulge of his biceps as he worked. A crisp white that fell just over his waist and billowed up to catch on the spiral top of his notepad peeking out from his back pocket. A crip white that now displayed his rather toned backside to you free from obstruction…
Shaking your head, you continued to pick the fruit from the others. There were three rows of about ten trees, the one you were worried about in the middle of it all. Your movements made you feel like you were slowly circling around him, honing in on the man taking out whatever frustrations he had on the plant. Until everything was gathered, and you retired back inside as the sun beat down what little warmth it still had this late in the season.
The fruit was already washed in the utility sink, resting in strainers set over ratty towels to dry atop the long table in the middle of the room. A record played in the living room, soft guitar and brass filling the space.
Sighing, you poured yourself a few fingers of whisky and then a few into a second glass as you heard the thud of the axe being set against the wall in the back room and steps heading your way.
“Joel, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t know how.” You offered one of the glasses to him, taking in the way he swiped at his sweating forehead with the back of his arm.
“I know…I’m-I shouldn’t have come at you like that. I’m sorry too.” His fingers brushed yours as he took the peace offering. But he didn’t drink until you lifted your own glass and clinked it to his. “Just…wanted there to be a reason why you weren’t by my side for a little bit.”
Stepping forward to run a hand down from his shoulder to elbow in a comforting move, you motioned him to follow you.
Through the hours of the afternoon and into the evening, you explained the difference between the colors of the fruit. The flavor profiles of each, of how you always sorted even portions of the harvest out for oil, for pickling, for the raw fruit to be shared with the town. You walked him through the process of turning a small batch into a paste, straining it over and over again to produce the oil. Two pairs of hands slick with it as he helped you after he had asked how you managed to do it.
He had asked of your knowledge, prompting you to admit that it was all learned since arriving here and being assigned to the house with the trees in the backyard. That it hadn’t been something you carried with you beforehand. You asked after his woodworking, how it had turned into crafting small figurines.
And he answered much the same as you. Learned skills to help deal with and adapt to the slower way of life Jackson allowed you both to lead.
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“You left one on the table.” His voice was right behind you, having followed you into the backroom. You turned to look at him over your shoulder before going back to placing the jars in your hand into a battered plastic crate. One was for the pickled and general olives, while another was for the oil you would make once the distraction of Joel Miller was gone from your kitchen. The only evidence of such from today’s activities in his hand.
“Oh, that one’s for you.”
“I couldn’t, you need it for trade. Everythin’ helps.”
“I insist, it’ll be good to have in your kitchen.”
“It’s just gonna sit there on the counter beside the stove.”
“Well, take it. Just in case.” You whispered. Noticing how close he had gotten in an attempt to hand the jar to you. He was close enough to smell the way the olive leaves had permeated his clothing. The perfume of the freshly chopped wood stained his skin in a heady way. You felt the counter dig into your hips, having unconsciously backed into it beside the deep sink.
“In case of what, sweetheart?” He lowered his voice to a raspy whisper, tongue peeking between his lips as he took in the way you had a smudge of dirt under your eye in the warm light of your kitchen bleeding into the backroom. His gaze snapped to his hand as you bravely tangled your fingers with his own. Feeling your lips curl into a playful smile, you leaned up and whispered into his ear. 
“The food critic decides to play personal chef.”
Oh, he liked that. If the widening of his pupils was any indication, the way his breath caught in his throat and he swallowed as he pulled back a little to look over your face.
He leaned in to press a cautious kiss to your cheek, knowing there was no bruise or cut to disguise his move as anything other than the blatant want for it. The soft scratch of his mustache lighting you up.
Your breath fanned out across his face, skin prickling along his body at the warmth of it bouncing back to you. A small huff the only noise coming from you. His eyes flicked up to capture yours, and you felt your heart lurch. He was so handsome, his lips looked so plush and pink this close. There was no way he could’ve missed the way you had glanced down at them, how you were thinking of feeling them pressed to your skin in other places, of the way you pulled your own bottom one between your teeth at the thought.
He leaned in, sharing breath with you, his nose brushing against yours before-
The needle of the record player scratching across vinyl startled you both, jolting in response to the harsh noise breaking the bubble of tension surrounding you both. Your hands had flown up to grip his shoulders tight while his arms had wrapped around your back and pulled you to him. Heart thundering for a completely different reason now, you cast your eyes over his shoulder toward to the record player.
With nervous laughter you stepped away from the man and set about lifting it from the still spinning record. His eyes are on you as you replace the record with another, setting it up to play and then turning back around to him. Your heart still thumping in your chest as you watch him hold tight to the jar in his hand and dip his head to you in a departing bow.
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He made sure it was well into the evening before enlisting Tommy’s help. The forlorn way you had looked at the pieces of the tree once it was no longer standing proud among the others had stirred an idea in his mind. He was going to take the thickest part of the trunk, because he wasn’t stealing it away. No. He was going to return it to you once he had cut it into slabs and let it dry. He was going to return it to you in the form of a cutting board, crafted from the beloved trees in your care and in honor of the namesake you’d adapted.
But it had to be perfect. He would practice on other planks and cuts of wood until he was able to craft one that would be good enough for you. Setting his mind and heart on the endeavor.
Once he was back home with the trunk set in room set up as his workspace, stepping out of the shower and collapsing into the bed, he let a lazy smile overtake him.
He may be tired, exhausted beyond his limits. But he wouldn’t have traded his afternoon with you for all the restful sleep in the world.
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He couldn’t get the feeling of your lips against his skin out of his mind. The gentle pressure of them grazing over his injuries, the gentle pressure against the patch in his beard he had never been fond of until that moment.
“Fuck,” He groaned out, palm tight around his aching cock. He had woken up thinking of your lips on more of his body, trailing over his skin in sucking kisses, tongue laving at every inch. He had been leaking and hard, his hand around himself before he had even come to complete consciousness.
The very real image of you stood in your doorway clad in nothing but your robe, the way the swell of your breasts was visible with the way you must’ve thrown it on to answer his knocking. The way your eyes were cloudy, slowly clearing and your face slightly flushed, as if you had just been- he groaned deep from within his chest. It had looked like you had just been deep in the throes of pleasure, body overwhelmed with it and torn away by his calling on you. Hair mused and breath a little too quick, he wondered what you sounded like. Would you whimper softly or moan out loudly, would you be shy and cover your face with your arms or would you scramble for any purchase as it raced through your body, swelling up to consume you.
He pumped his hand slowly now, reveling in the feeling stirring low in his gut. The strikes of pleasure moving through him as he recalled the way you had felt against him as you both rode back on your horse.
The way your hip had felt in his hands as he had tried to steady himself. His mind taking the thought and running with it, the imagining the way he would grip you from behind. You down on your hands and knees, legs parted to make room for him to fit between them, thrust against you as deep as he could, your keening-
He choked on his own breath as the sheer force of his release hit him, sudden and overwhelming. Spurts of pearlescent cum coating his hand and dripping over his knuckles.
Euphoria filling him up with satisfaction, his body humming with it until the guilt slammed into him.
He just fucked his fist to the thought of you. His patrol partner. His…friend. The woman he couldn’t get out of his mind even if his life depended on it.
Catching his breath, he looked out the window across from his bed. Stars glittering at him through the curtains as if they know all the dirty things that had just run through his mind, sharing in his secrets.
The only small blessing of his complete lack of self-control and oversight is that he doesn’t have to ride alongside you today on patrol.
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“I’ve got the first batch of the season,” You announced as you walked through the doors of the small makeshift market. It was right along the main street, a few fronts down from the mess hall and the Tipsy Bison.
“Oh, lovely!” The man at the back counter praised, clearing a space atop it for you to put down the delivery.
“Marsha.” You nodded toward her in greeting, uncomfortable with the way her eyes had followed you through the few aisles after letting the man go over the contents of the crate. Another nod to her daughter, standing right beside her with a small wicker basket full of root vegetables. “I’ve got a jar in there for you, with the garlic you managed to salvage from the garden.”
She didn’t say anything, looking for all the world like her voice had been stolen from her. A small nudge from her daughter jostled her and she seemed to find it.
“Thank you, Olive. That was…very sweet of you to think of me.”
“Of course, anything to be of help.”
“Yes, of course.” She repeated your words, trailing off as she noticed a figure across the street. Her eyes tracked their movement but when you turned to see what had caught her attention there was no one there. Suddenly she was speaking your actual name and it roused your nerves to life. “You…do so much for the town, I just wanted you to know that we all appreciate the time you take each year to handle the harvest.”
“O-oh, well, um, thank you, Marsha. That’s very k-kind of you to say.”
“Momma,” Millie whispered, taking ahold of the older woman’s arm. Something in her voice you couldn’t quite get a read on. Taking that as your queue to cut off the rather awkward interaction, you waved at them and began to head back up to the counter to collect the items you had requested in exchange for the crate of jars. Your ears were strained, trying to catch the hushed words the women shared behind your back. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I realized how…unfairly we speak about her. Someone convinced me to apologize to her.”
“She doesn’t deserve apologies, she’s the reason-“
“Millie, we need to work on moving past that. It’s been five years now. We can all live alongside each other with the understanding of what happened.”
“No, momma, you may be ready to forgive her but I’m not. She got my Aiden and I’m not going to let her drag down Joel too.”
“He was the one who told me to be nicer to her, just trying to appease the lovely man.”
Any good feelings of a successful harvest and two weeks of working countless hours to jar, pickle, and transform the fruit from your trees vanished. The awkward yet positive sentiment from one of your more…complicated social connections going down with it at Millie’s angered words. You tried to muster up a smile for the man at the counter, taking the crate back from him with the trade items but you weren’t sure if you were able to. Not turning to look at the women, you exited the shop and made your way straight back home despite the list of errands in your pocket.
Of course Joel had caught wind of the way people spoke of you.
Heard it from Marsha herself, the source of all your troubles despite having done everything in your power to counteract the bad you had brought down on the town with your incompetence. He had put his own reputation at stake by sticking up for you and you only hoped it didn’t affect the way he was received. He was so important to the town, achieving far more than you in what he provided and brought in his skill set.
You didn’t want him to feel even a fraction of what you did as you navigated life here in the settlement. The pitying looks cast your way, the whispered words of what people felt entitled enough to voice, the way you seemed to only be good for one thing and it was the crop in the backyard of the house you had been assigned by pure circumstance.
The crate thudded atop the table where you thrust it harshly, frustration controlling your movements as you moved through the small house back to your room. Shucking off and resisting the urge to hurl your boots toward the closet you sighed as you felt tears prickle your eyes. They rolled hot down your cheeks as you curled up in the covers and gave up on what was supposed to be a good day.
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