#…I say that as if this whole thing isn’t angsty

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Here I am finally! 🥳

I loved this chapter, you perfectly pictured all the feelings they have and made it all so angsty, i love some well written angst sometimes and this works so well 🥲

“Despite it all, and I know how stupid this sounds. How stupid this is. I still… can’t stop thinking about him.” You confess out loud. 

Girl, same. SAME.

When he held your face in his hand and wiped your tears you knew that whatever was going on, his feelings for you were not something to question. He wanted you on a primal level and you wanted him to take what he needed from you. 

This is so beautiful, I can imagine him doing this to me, I would melt instantly 🫠 GIIIIIRL, He loves you, he’s just bad at communicating, you know 😭

Not to mention no one had pleasured you like Joel Miller. You were absolutely smitten by everything he gave to you. He made you insatiable for him in every way. 

Yep, she’s me 100%

As he started playing, he blocked out everything around him. His mind was just filled with the memories of Tess. What he loved. What he wanted. What he never got and never will. What he would always mourn but no longer desire. His time with her was over for him. He could feel his heart aching as he sang, but also getting lighter, not realizing how heavy this all was weighing on him for such a long time until he was letting it go

This description 😭 He’s so sweet, he has the biggest heart deep down inside him, I want to cry 🥺

A conflicting wave of emotions tears through him and it takes everything not to lose his composure. He takes the deepest breath, closes his eyes and it isn’t Tess that comes to mind. 

It’s you.

He’s so pookie, I love him 🥺

You had 34 unread messages from Joel. 9 missed calls and 3 voicemails. You fought the urge to see what he had to say and instead gave notice to your other missed calls.

And desperately down so bad, pls, I need to hug him 💔

You hugged the shirt to your chest and breathed in his masculine scent that still lingered. The scent that drove you wild with desire.  

Oh, I’m melting, bye 🫠

Settling on the second picture you sent, he focuses on how deranged and needy you looked. Hungry for his cock. Your breasts were perfectly in view and still partially clad in his shirt. His scent was all over you in that moment. You were his.  

This whole scene is SO HOT 🥵 And I actually love that he’s so hungry for her that he can’t even keep his hands off his cock heheheh 🤭

He was dressed in some dirty jeans that hugged him perfectly and heavy work boots. His torso clad in a rustic, plaid flannel not too different from the one you stole. The sleeves are pushed up and bunched on his forearms and his hands protected with leather gloves. 

This whole thing is going to be stuck in my mind for a long time, Jesus, I need lumberjack Joel so bad it’s ridiculous 🥵

The area between his shoulder blades was damp and dark with sweat. The curls in his hair were an unruly mess, especially where they met the hot perspiration on his neck. 

Oh yes, sweaty Joel is doing things to me 🤤

The desire to have his arms on you in this moment and feel the full force of his body against you

Crying 😭 the end is equally beautiful and painful, I can’t wait for them to stop arguing 🥲

Another beautiful chapter, my dear, you’re doing so great 🥹🥰

The Wolf You Feed (Part 5)

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Word Count: 7.3k

Part 5 / ? (Ongoing) A O 3 | M A S T E R L I S T

Summary: Set in a fictional New England town, you fall for your handsome, intense and outdoorsy neighbor while renting out your parent's vacant summer home during a brutal winter.

Chapter Warnings: ANGST. Smut. POV-Switching. Rated Explicit. 18+ MDNI. See series masterlist for general warnings.

A/N: Hang in there friends. I will ease your pain soon 🧡

The next day you were, for the most part, unconsolable. Marlene let you lay around in her guest bed while you faded in between sleep and numbness. 

The pain was unfamiliar. Hurt because it was so unexpected. Amplified because you were falling so hard for him and thought he felt the same way. Hurt by the immense weight of betrayal and deception that he dumped on you last night. Hurt by the thought that he didn’t want you to know. Hurt because despite the pain you still felt a longing and prayed to just wake from the nightmare like it was all just a bad dream.

The early afternoon sun gave its best attempt to bring some life to you, but you simply rolled away from the window and wrapped yourself up in your warm cocoon. Your phone screen lit up on the nightstand for the umpteenth time and you ignored it.

The apathy you were feeling was weighing you down, paralyzing you from moving from your safe haven. It felt like time wasn’t moving either, and you were just trapped in this moment and helpless to do anything about it.

The 360 your emotions took in the span of 24 hours was unprecedented. It took everything out of you and you can’t stop ruminating on what was and what could have been. Where do you go from here? 

Last night, you don’t remember much of what happened when you left Coppers. You were inconsolable and Marlene felt too responsible for you to let you go home by yourself in your condition. She insisted you get in her car and she brought you to her apartment which was not too far away. 

She didn’t ask you any questions, and you could only assume what she could possibly be thinking about you now. You felt embarrassed and sick to your stomach whenever flashes from the night before popped into your mind. 

How could you have been so stupid?   

A tiny knock on the door caught your attention and Marlene meekly poked her head in. She wandered over to the bed and sat at the edge.

“Come on. I made us lunch and you are going to eat.” She patted your bundled up shoulder and got into your face to glare at you. This request was not optional at this point. You owed her big. She placed a bottle of water on the nightstand and you saw her eye your phone lighting up.

“Fine. Give me a minute?” You didn’t sound very convincing. “I promise.”

Marlene left you some clothes to borrow while you were there. An oversized long sleeve shirt and some sweatpants. Comfortable.

Marlene had lunch fixed for you both and slid over a hot cup of coffee as you approached the kitchen table. 

She was being far too kind to you. On the way home you remember little beyond the haze of being drunk and your breakdown. You remember sobbing and telling her you didn’t want to be alone. She ended up bringing you back to her place in town and babysat you through the night.

You were grateful to have made a friend in her and her kindness was the light guiding you through the turmoil. 

You manage a few bites from your sandwich out of consideration but don’t touch your coffee. The awkward silence is broken after a few moments, you knew the conversation was coming.

“So…” She pauses and then just comes out with it. “You and Joel, huh?” She attempts to drop the topic casually and friendly.

“Not anymore.” You feel your eyes well up again. Tears from anger, sadness and heartbreak. A trifecta of emotions that you don’t recall ever feeling before. Everything about Joel was intense and had been from the moment you met him. 

You realize that since meeting him it had all been mostly bottled up inside you. Except for some vague chatter at work, your life with Joel was mostly a secret. Something you kept private because you were shy about being judged for falling for a man so much older than you.  

You tell her everything. 

“Babe, he isn’t worth the tears.” she said so confidently, like she had so much knowledge about him that you didn’t know. 

“I had no idea about Tess.” The words spill out. “I just assumed it was only me. I would have never… How stupid-”

“Joel is an asshole” she cuts you off. Her tone is getting more heated as she gets frustrated that you are blaming yourself for anything in all of this. “What he did was wrong.” Marlene tried her best to keep her judgements to herself, but she always had been very outspoken. You knew she would be an open book if you would just ask. She seemed to harbor some resentment that was starting to slip out.

“How long have they.. You know. Been together?” you choke on the words.

“As long as I’ve known them.” she catches the way you react and takes a step back to explain. “They used to be close. Really close. Over the years they have grown apart. I think nowadays they just fuck around with each other when they are feeling lonely.” 

Your heart is in your throat and you want to throw up. You go to speak but can’t find the words, only more tears. 

“Sorry. I mean, you should know this.”

She's right, you should know this, and Joel should be the one telling you. You think back to how he was so quick to push you away at the bar and wanted to talk later. You knew something was up and he wasn’t ready for you to find out. Even if you never really defined anything between you both, he led you on. He used you. 

“Tess isn’t a saint either.” She interrupts you as if she can hear your thoughts. “This has been a long time coming. They are both toxic.” 

You wanted to know what she meant by that, but your mind couldn’t get past his wrongdoings. From where you sat last night, it looked like Tess was caught off guard by him too. 

You felt sick to your stomach the moment you realized you were the other woman. Tess didn’t deserve that.  

The tears were flowing again. You drag the back of your hand across your face to quickly wipe them away. 

“You deserve better.” She reassures you.

Do you, though? You wonder. 

You never had the best luck with men. The way Joel made you feel was not something you would be able to replace or move on from easily. He awoke something inside you that you needed to feed. He had a darkness that you were drawn to. A sexual energy that you never sought out before. It was so perfectly hidden behind some neighborly deeds and a tired man’s body.       

“Despite it all, and I know how stupid this sounds. How stupid this is. I still… can’t stop thinking about him.” You confess out loud. 

You were not a stupid person by any stretch, but you were feeling blinded by how he had been making you feel up until last night. Even after you confronted him, before you really learnt what was going on, you still felt like he was doing this for you. He wasn’t acting like the same person, but you could feel the Joel you knew was still there inside him. Like the face he was putting on was for everyone else, but your Joel was waiting in the wings.

When he had you alone by the bathrooms you could feel how much he wanted you. See how much hurt there was in his eyes when you were crying. He told you it wasn’t about you and you really wanted to believe that was true.

When he held your face in his hand and wiped your tears you knew that whatever was going on, his feelings for you were not something to question. He wanted you on a primal level and you wanted him to take what he needed from you. 

You weren’t in a formal relationship with him. You never had that talk with him. You never asked if there was anyone else. These thoughts were creeping in and making you feel stupid and partially responsible. Your conscience was desperately looking for any excuse to help Joel’s case. 

Marlene rolls her eyes. “Joel is nothing but bad news. Look at what he already did to you. Forget him.” 

Easier said than done, you think to yourself. The truth is that up until his performance he had been the first guy in your life that made you feel truly desired. It couldn’t have felt so real if it wasn’t true.

He needed you, but you also needed him.   

“Marlene…” You pause, trepidation in your tone. “I was falling for him. I think I was in l-”

“Stop.” She cuts you off. “You liked his… handsome charm, don’t confuse it for something more.” An annoyance peaks in her voice. 

You had fallen for people before and had relationships based purely on lust and attraction, but this was not it. It was something so unique that you couldn’t even put into words or feelings. A high that he gave you that you had to chase because you needed that next fix so badly. 

“And…” She pauses before cautiously saying more. “He is old enough to be your dad. Come on, this wasn’t going anywhere!” She was trying to make you see the obvious things without sounding too critical. 

You actually liked that he was older. It was so attractive if not a little bit taboo which just made it that much more exciting. He was worn on the edges but he was so confident and capable with everything he did. Not to mention no one had pleasured you like Joel Miller. You were absolutely smitten by everything he gave to you. He made you insatiable for him in every way. 

You brushed off her comments about his age. It was something you loved about him. Something that turned you on that you didn’t feel like defending.

Still, by all counts she was right. You knew the right thing to do would be to move on with your life, without Joel. 

“I’m sure whatever you had was fun, but that is all it was ever going to be.” Her matter of fact way of stating things helped to make the reality hit a little less hard. 

Maybe the reason it felt so good with Joel is because you wanted it to be something more than it was. The pit in your stomach reminds you of its presence and how this whole ordeal makes you feel sick.

There is a long silence between the two of you, and she no doubt can tell how heavy the words are hitting you. She finishes her coffee and clears the table, taking away your hardly touched plate. 

You sit with your thoughts for a moment before joining her at the kitchen sink. You hand her your mostly full coffee mug to pour in the basin.

The elephant in the room is getting too big to ignore.

It didn’t matter how you felt or what you wanted when there was someone else involved.

“What am I going to do now?” You ask her with teary eyes and a meek voice.

“I know Tess pretty well, and she can be scornful. I don’t think she knows about you and Joel, and you should keep it that way.” 

You feel yourself disassociated and want to just disappear. Go back to your Boston life and pretend you never met Joel Miller. Find a new job.  A new place to live and start fresh, again. 

“I like you, and I think you got put in a real shitty situation.” That was an understatement. “I’m not going to say anything to her, ok?” 

You nod, and believe her words.

“You are done with Joel, right?” She looks at you for confirmation. “Right?”

“Yeah. Of course.” You look away from her as you answer and the tears flow again. You weren’t sure if you were lying to her or lying to yourself, but you knew it wasn’t truthful. Whatever path you carved out next would be wrong if it wasn’t leading away from Joel.  

“Then cry as much as you need to now and put this behind you.”

She brings you in for a comforting hug and you sob into her shoulder.   

The worst part of it all is that you still have feelings for him.

—

JOEL POV - The Night Before

As he walked towards the stage to play, he was a wreck inside. Looking calm and composed was just a facade. He was nervous enough to be playing tonight with his carefully thought out song, but now knowing you may very well still be around was tipping him over the edge. There was no turning back at this point and he had to stay the course. He had to get this off his chest and had to wash his hands of Tess. Whatever comes next he would have to take it as it comes. 

The thought of hurting you in any way made him sick. 

Taking his seat he was grateful for the bright lights on him, making the audience look like anonymous shadows. At least in his mind he could pretend it was a room of nobodies. He never was one to have stage fright. He was a talented enough musician and most of the audience was drunk. He didn’t care what they thought anyways.  

He drags his hand along the neck of the guitar, feeling the strings under his calloused fingertips. Taking in a deep breath he adjusts the guitar in his lap. The light reflects off his watch and the shiny, polished wood of his instrument. The stage feels lonely as the room silences with all eyes on him.    

He strums his guitar and flexes his hand to loosen up. There is no turning back now and this is something he has to do. 

“This one’s…. for Tess.” his voice shakes as the words leave his mouth. 

This moment the only thing that mattered was that she heard this. He never was one with words or talking about his feelings, but he always had been able to lean on music when it mattered. It was the only time he truly let himself be vulnerable.  

As he started playing, he blocked out everything around him. His mind was just filled with the memories of Tess. What he loved. What he wanted. What he never got and never will. What he would always mourn but no longer desire. His time with her was over for him. He could feel his heart aching as he sang, but also getting lighter, not realizing how heavy this all was weighing on him for such a long time until he was letting it go.

As the song progressed it felt cathartic. Letting some of his anger slip into his tone and fade out into the ether, taking along his frustrations. Confronting all the feelings he had been holding in for so long. The sadness he felt was mourning, and he knew it would only get better now that he was moving on. He had already been mourning her loss for a long time without truly acknowledging it. Until now.       

Living in the memory

   Of a love that never was

He was feeling bolder and confident that his decision to be done with Tess was the right one. It didn’t erase their history or make her impact on his life any less significant. What they had was special and always would be. It didn’t have to overstay like it was in order to preserve that history. It was time to move on and stop feeding the resentment that was overtaking everything left that was good.

He would always love her for their history and she had to know so that she could move on too before the damage between them was too great. He knew she would understand and accept it; in time. 

Then you crept back into his mind. Finally he was giving himself permission to allow it to, properly. 

You filled in all that empty space that was vacant for just mere moments. Another realization that he wasn’t giving everything to you and how much he wanted to. He had been indulging in your companionship with trepidation. Reluctant to open himself up and fearful that it would be another road to nowhere. 

Afraid you might not want him and his darkness that came along once you really knew him. 

His eyes were finally adjusted to the lights just enough to make out the details in the shadows in front of him. 

He couldn’t help himself to look up and scan the audience, searching for you passively. Deep down, he knew you were still out there. He could sense that unexplainable feeling when someone is watching you intently. It made his heart race as he struggled to fight the distraction and finish his song. 

'Cause I've done everything I know

To try and make you mine

And I think I'm gonna love you

As if by instinct, he zeroed in on you standing towards the back of the room with tears in your eyes. An invisible rope tethering you together against the odds in the sea of shadows. 

When he caught your eyes he had to look away in shame. Disgusted with himself that you were collateral damage in his situationship. He choked on his final words, and they came out low and shaky.  

For a long, long time.

He strummed the last chords of his song and fought back the feeling in his throat that was bubbling up. He felt like he couldn’t breathe and the weight of his actions was crushing him. The silence in the room filled him with dread and it felt like time was standing still, like he was in front of everyone naked with his emotions raw and exposed before them. His chest was tight, bursting with an anxious heart beating rapidly with heavy thuds.  

A conflicting wave of emotions tears through him and it takes everything not to lose his composure. He takes the deepest breath, closes his eyes and it isn’t Tess that comes to mind. 

It’s you. 

With his final strum of the guitar it felt like he was releasing himself from Tess. Free after so long and fighting so hard for their relationship. Free to bring his full attention to where his heart was calling him.

Finally the room erupts in applause and he feels the tiniest pang of relief wash over him and snaps him back to reality. He sneaks off the stage and makes his way towards the back. He needed to hold you and tell you how sorry he was and at this point he didn’t care who saw him.

Familiar faces and acquaintances slapped him on the back and boasted to him about how great he did and the gauntlet of drunken patrons slows him down significantly. When he manages to break away and gets eyes on where you were standing you are nowhere to be found. 

A hand grabs his sleeve and he turns but his heart sinks when it’s Tess.

“Joel..” she whines through a shaky voice and pulls him to look at her.

He didn’t want to be cruel to her or disregard whatever feelings she was going through but he also didn’t feel obligated to her anymore. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel like he was on her leash. He was done putting her first.  

“Tess, not now.” His voice was low and gentle. He really did feel for her out of habit, but he also knew he couldn’t let her try to reconcile. Not yet, anyways. He was open and hopeful to remain friends with her, but she needed to get over him first. He knew her reaction would be anger until she had time to cool off. 

“Really? After that you are going to ice me out? What the hell, Joel?” Her anger was increasing with every sound leaving her lips. The last thing he wanted was a blow up with her and he wasn’t going to let her control this narrative any longer. 

“Stop it.” He unintentionally uses his size to intimidate her as he steps closer. Silencing her as the remaining empathy leaves his eyes. He was never confrontational with Tess, and this was something new that she did not expect or know how to react to.   

A few nosy people nearby get quiet as they try to watch the drama unfold in front of them and pretend to be minding their own business. Joel takes a step back from Tess and furrows his brow.  

“I told you. I’m moving on. We’re done now.” He says firmly and sharply points his finger towards her. The tears in her eyes almost make him soften, but he holds firm. “Done.” He reiterates through gritted teeth.

He hated being so cold, but he had to or else nothing would change.  

Tess bites her lip and for the first time has no words. She was so used to being the boss and calling the shots and for the most part Joel let her. Not this time. She wipes the wetness that starts to fall from her eyes and walks off, angry and hurt.

“What are you looking at?” He snaps at the prying eyes watching him be a total asshole and then proceeds to walk towards the exit to continue his search. He was quickly running out of fucks to give by this point in the evening.

The bar was starting to clear out a little now that the live entertainment was done for the night. He doesn’t see you and starts to worry you left without allowing him a chance to explain himself. 

Truthfully, he didn’t know what he was going to say, but he knew he needed to see you. To apologize at the minimum and beg you to hear him out. There was so much you didn’t know that he needed to tell you.

He collects his guitar, dons his jacket and makes his way outside. There is a gentle snow falling and a coating on the cars and walkway. Footprints heavily littering the path into the parking lot and fanning out. It would be a fool's errand to pick out your prints or your car under the blanket of winter. 

He makes his way to his truck, and carelessly brushes off his windshield with his sleeve. 

He pulls out his phone and calls you, but it goes unanswered and to your mailbox. He sends you a text.

Joel: Im so sorry baby

Joel: Please can we talk? 

He leans on his truck, ignoring the cold and tries to call you again. And again. The relentless ringing is only silenced by the robotic voice of the generic voice mail operator.

After the 3rd call he left a message.

“Please answer the phone baby girl. I know I don’t deserve it, but I need to talk to you. Please.” His message was delivered with a low, calm tone, barely masking that he was afraid. 

Afraid he lost you.  

—

READER POV - Saturday Afternoon

Marlene dropped you off at the bar to pick up your car. No one was around this time of day and it felt surreal being back at the scene of the crime, so to speak. She gave you a hug and just nodded to you as you left. Urging you to believe you would be ok, and you had to move on. 

When you got home you didn’t even dare look to see if Joel was home. You went inside, took a shower and wrapped up in a blanket to watch TV on your couch.

Whatever was on you didn’t really pay attention. Your mind was just filled with Joel. You wanted to wake up from this bad dream. 

You had been vulnerable with him. You were ready to give yourself to him so quickly because you craved that intimacy only he could give. He worshipped your body and made you feel something you never felt before. 

Was that enough? Surely not to a self respecting person. It makes you feel sick to be so hesitant to do the obviously right thing.  

You so badly wanted him, and knew you couldn’t just let him treat you this way. You felt guilty about still wanting to give him a chance.

You finally gave in to looking at your phone. 

You had 34 unread messages from Joel. 9 missed calls and 3 voicemails. You fought the urge to see what he had to say and instead gave notice to your other missed calls. Your mother. She had tried to call you 3 times. You had barely talked to her this past week and didn’t really want to but you also knew she would worry if you continued to ignore her. You were afraid she might also reach out to her precious neighbor too if you gave her any reason to panic. It didn’t take much with her. 

You called your mom, lied that you were sick with the flu and that you just wanted to sleep. She didn’t make you talk long thankfully and she didn’t say anything about her handyman neighbor.

The night was getting late and you mustered up enough energy to move into your bedroom. 

Seeing Joel’s flannel shirt laying at the foot of your bed hit you hard. You had been so happy and flirty just a few nights before and you wanted that back. It felt like it was taken from you unfairly.

You hugged the shirt to your chest and breathed in his masculine scent that still lingered. The scent that drove you wild with desire.  

How were you going to get over this man who made you such a mess?

You tossed the shirt into your dirty clothes pile and got into bed, lamenting how cold and empty it was and wishing you were wrapped up in Joel’s navy blue sheets and stealing his heat. Feeling his heartbeat against your cheek as he holds you close. The ghost of his touch on your skin makes you tear up again. 

Fuck you Joel Miller. You mumble out loud to yourself. It wasn’t fair.   

You lay there for what felt like hours, your mind firing on all cylinders with no hope of slowing down. 

Curiosity won in the end, and you opened up the text thread with Joel. You scanned it quickly and saw a recurring theme of him asking if you were ok, apologizing and worried that you were not home.  

Joel: Please just tell me you are safe

Joel: I’ll leave you alone just let me know

Joel: Where are you? 

Those were texts from the morning. After your car was back home and signs of life his messages were back to apologizing and what you can only imagine to be a descent of drunken texts from this evening.

Joel: I’m so sorry

Joel: We need to talk

Joel: Please n

Joel: I m fucknig srry

Joel: Just let m tel you and ill stpo

Joel: /

Joel: I ned to talk to you

You wanted to talk to him. You needed some clarity, but you also didn’t want to be tricked into forgiving him because of your body betraying your mind. There was a nagging you could not shake that his actions at the bar didn’t undo the way he made you feel. There had to be more to it or else it would be so easy to wash your hands of him and never turn back. 

You started typing a reply and deleting until finally settling on just leaving him on read. 

You listened to his first voicemail, and hearing the pain in his voice made your heart break more. He was worried about you and he sounded like he was doing his best to be composed, but you could see through it. That southern drawl makes you melt when you hear him call you baby girl.

You slammed your phone down and regretted giving in to his attempts. It only made it harder to be mad at him.  

As you drifted off to sleep with tears leaving wet stripes on your cheeks you decided that tomorrow you would go see Joel. You would go in person and get a true gauge of where things stand. You would also try to do the right thing.    

—

JOEL POV - Saturday Night

Midday and he was worried about you. Not only were you not answering him or reading his messages, but you also had not been home. Of course you were an adult and clearly could do whatever you wanted, but he felt entirely responsible for whatever you were up to. 

He paced to his bedroom window, looking out through the blinds to see the same snow covered drive. Untouched. He was getting restless.  

He flips through your messages and can’t help but look at the pics you sent him during your bedtime photoshoot.

He could feel himself harden and palmed himself through his denim to get some relief. It felt wrong, but he couldn’t control the way his body reacted to you. He unzips his jeans to let his cock breathe as he takes a seat in the living room. 

Scrolling through the photos you sent and seeing more and more of your body made him swell. The pressure in his groin became too much to handle with a casual touch. 

Fuck he mumbles under his breath. 

He spreads his legs wider and slides a hand inside his boxers to stroke himself, imagining it was you and your gentle hands wrapped around his shaft. 

The guilt of what he did weighed heavy on his mind but didn’t hinder him from getting aroused. He needed to have you again. Feel your tight pussy gripping him and listen to your sweet moans. 

It eats away at him. It was wrong to get off to you especially after what he had done to you. 

But it didn’t stop him.

Settling on the second picture you sent, he focuses on how deranged and needy you looked. Hungry for his cock. Your breasts were perfectly in view and still partially clad in his shirt. His scent was all over you in that moment. You were his.  

His labored strokes quicken as he fucks into his fist and he comes with a stifled groan. 

Sitting alone with his release dripping over his knuckles made him feel like a dirty old man. Getting off to a woman that didn’t want him anymore.   

He woke later that evening, awkwardly slumped against the arm of his chair. The house was completely dark except for some embers from his wood stove about to give it’s last breath. He was groggy and sore. His neck ached from the awkward position. 

After getting his wits about him, he opened his phone to see you still had not replied. He stumbled over to his window and to his relief your car was parked in the yard. 

At least you were home. You were safe. Clearly you did not want to talk to him yet. 

He wanders off to his kitchen to pour himself a stiff drink and downs it way too fast before taking a shower and drinking again and again. 

As the whiskey clouds his mind and fills him with nothing but remorse for what he did, he sloppily sends you some desperate texts before passing out for the night.

—

READER POV - Sunday

The Sunday afternoon energy was heavy. You had been avoiding Joel in every possible way since Friday night. The exception being your moment of weakness and reading his texts. Instead you buried yourself in a book trying to focus your mind on another world with characters struggling with simpler problems.

The time spent alone had given you some peace to think about what your next move was going to be, but you were still battling with what to do.

If you were not so smitten with him it would be so easy to just walk away. You never questioned his character before and now it’s all you can do. Weighing the damage he did with what you had come to know about him before was not an easy task. It also made you question your own character. What kind of a person would it make you be to continue on with this? Maybe you battled with failed relationships all your life because you never found the one to balance who you really are. Maybe you are just hopelessly lusting over Joel Miller and telling yourself anything that can make it feel ok. 

Your anger and hurt was stinging less and making you feel more numb than anything. Marlene’s words of advice were lingering in the front of your mind constantly. You felt guilty for entertaining the idea of talking to him and even more guilty for settling on actually doing it. 

Looking out your front window you see his truck parked in his driveway. No fresh tire tracks and covered in snow. You had not seen any signs of life since you returned home other than some smoke from his chimney and a light or two.

The text messages from him did still trickle in at a slower pace, but you continued to ignore them. Wiping the notification off your lock screen.

Marlene also texted you periodically to check in and you assured her you were doing just fine and would be ok. 

You made an impulsive decision to go over now before you changed your mind again, not sure what you were going to say or do, but you couldn’t ignore him forever. The more you thought about what your gameplan was the more you started to talk yourself out of it.  

You freshened up in the bathroom, applying some light makeup to mask the bags under your eyes and hide the fact that you have been crying for days. You knew deep down you also just wanted to look really good for him. You wanted to spite him and make him want you but not let him have you as some sort of punishment. At least that is what you told yourself.     

You bundled up in your boots and winter jacket. Wrapped a scarf around you and put on some mittens and a hat. Your hair falling loosely around your face. You looked cute but completely covered up. 

The sun was just starting to set, but there was still plenty of light left to venture outside.

You wandered over to your mailbox and picked up the scent of burning wood. A smoky, campfire smell. It smelled inviting. You heard a chopping sound coming from the direction of Joel’s house and guessed he was outside working. Typical Joel behavior to be outdoors. 

As you make your way to his house the campfire smell intensifies and you see some smoke coming from the side of his house. There is a footpath going from his driveway and you decide to follow it to the sound.

As you round the corner, the sight is enough to make you forgive all his wrongs.

Joel’s back was to you and his silhouette is bright and familiar. You could recognize his figure in a lineup with ease. Broad and commanding.  

The frame of his body was muscular but not bulky. Toned from his manual labor lifestyle. His broad shoulders and tapered waist were perfectly illuminated by the burning fire next to him.  

He was dressed in some dirty jeans that hugged him perfectly and heavy work boots. His torso clad in a rustic, plaid flannel not too different from the one you stole. The sleeves are pushed up and bunched on his forearms and his hands protected with leather gloves. 

You see his jacket discarded on a pile of chopped wood and a small brush pile burning next to him, keeping him unnecessarily warm. It looked like he had more than enough body heat radiating off him. Uncomfortably toasty.  

The area between his shoulder blades was damp and dark with sweat. The curls in his hair were an unruly mess, especially where they met the hot perspiration on his neck. 

Seeing Joel in lumberjack mode unlocked something inside you that you didn’t even know existed. He was so primal in his ability to handle whatever task was at hand. Just as he had been when intimate with you. He could take you away and live off the grid someplace in the wilderness and you wouldn’t bat an eye. He was more than capable of taking care of all your needs.  

You feel it deep inside you. That intense heat building that only Joel can make you feel. An arousal coiling up inside you and ready to burst out if given the chance.   

He turns to place a section of wood in front of him and makes a grunt sound as he lifts it into place. No doubt it was heavy and judging by his pile, and the sweat on his body, he had been at this for a while. His outstretched arm had his flannel tightly choking his bicep as he moved to adjust the log in front of him. It was obscene to see his body flex and demonstrate his strength. The desire to have his arms on you in this moment and feel the full force of his body against you.

He picks up the axe and throttles it down again with a grunt, wood splintering in front of him as the force from his axe splits the wood into two.

He is nearly panting from the exertion, moving the split wood over to the pile only to repeat it all over again. He pulls his shirt up to wipe his brow. The hard ridges of his muscles taunt you as they shine in the light of the fire. As he wipes his sweat and pauses for the briefest moment to rest against his axe you decide to make your presence known before he realizes you are watching him.

“Hey Joel” you announce softly.

He is startled by you and turns quickly, letting his shirt fall back over his stomach. His expression softens when he meets your eyes. He tosses the axe next to him and pulls off his gloves as he steps towards you. 

The heat of his body and his smoky scent hit you all at once as he stands just in front of you, unsure if he should touch you or not.  He hesitates but you can see the desire in his eyes to touch you. 

“Sweetheart, I’m–” he pauses, and rakes his hand through his hair. “I’m so glad to see you. Lord knows I don’t deserve it.” He gives a side smirk and his best attempt at looking innocent. It almost works.

He steps towards you but you reluctantly hold your hand up. He ignores it and pushes his chest into your palm. His innocence was replaced with cunning intentions. His damp and hot chest sending a wave of desire through you, making you even more wet. You were certain he could sense it too despite your attempts to act put together.  

Before you can protest he has his hands on your waist. His fingers wrapping around you and positioned to pull you in close. His needy energy is not something you have seen before. Not like this. Assertive but stepping over a line you put out. 

“Joel, stop.” You weakly protest and take a step back from him. His hands slide off your hip as you step away and you can see some panic in his eyes that he misread what this was. 

He could clearly see how mixed you were feeling. He was letting his raw desire take the lead and hoped it would help sway you to give in to him and soften your resolve. Whether it was wrong or right, he knew that sexual tension you both had was not going silently.

He also knew that he cared about you more than just as a hookup. Truthfully you had made him feel things he hadn’t felt in a long time. He was so scared to lose you before he even got to properly have you. His fear was making him act stupid and desperate and he didn’t know how to reign it back. Especially with you being just within your reach. He was tailspinning.      

“I’m sorry, baby.” He pauses. “I should have told you about her. It’s not what it looks like. I mean, it is complicated and–”

You swallow back your feelings and look him straight in the eyes. How much more cliche could he get?  

“It’s too late for that now,” you countered, realizing that confronting this now was not something you were ready for after all. 

Joel chewed his lip, wiping his hand on his chin as he fought back the urge to unleash some of his anger that he had been harboring. Anger he had towards himself that needed to escape. He was getting agitated.

He knew you were right, but he knew he couldn’t just let you go. He lets out a deep breath as he pinches between his brows, releasing a little tension as he exhales and composes his next words carefully.

“I want you to… need you to know I never did anything with her while I was with you.” His words come out desperate, pleading with you to understand. To forgive him even. 

You weren’t sure if you believed that. You couldn’t exactly trust him anymore now that the trust had been broken.     

“I swear it. There is a lot you don’t know about Tess and-”

Hearing her name on his lips is the last straw and it enrages you, reminding you that you are not here for second chances and apologies. You are here to tell him to leave you alone.

“I don’t think we should see each other anymore.” You declare coldly and emotionless. 

Joel stares, he looks like he wants to speak but he isn’t sure what to say. He isn’t sure he heard you right, or didn’t want to believe that he did. 

You go to turn but he grabs your sleeve and holds you to face him.

“Please, I need to… don’t go.” He stumbles over his words, grabbing you harder than he meant to, desperate to make you stay.  

“You hurt me.” The tears start to fall again as you speak your truth to him. You look him straight in the eyes so he can see your pain from what he did. There was no misreading your tears. 

“I know. Never meant for you to get hurt. I can explain-” He panics, realizing you are leaving him and his chance is fleeting.

You struggle to pull your arm away but he isn’t listening and just brings you closer with his strength. He was blind to your obvious demands to stop. Clouded by his panic.  

“I owe you an explanation. Let me-” His eyes penetrate into you, begging you to look at him. 

“It's too late.” You cut him off. “Lose my number.” Your words bite. 

You pull your arm away sharply and continue to walk away. You feel him staring at you and you swear he can hear your heart beating out of your chest. It took every ounce of restraint to hold firm with what you set out to do. You were not going to let him talk you into changing your mind.

With tears welling up in your eye you continue walking forward. You hear him begging you to stop and listen to him. 

“Sweetheart, please.” he calls out after you. Pleading with you but you put more distance between him and his words as they get quieter.

Under his breath, Joel whispers “I’m sorry.” When your pace quickens and you don’t look back you swear you can hear him speak those words again and again, but you keep walking. 

To be continued...

A O 3 | M A S T E R L I S T | N O T I F I C A T I O N S

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[maudie-duan]

Summary: What happens when the man you've loved since childhood decides he's ready to settle down, but it turns out you are no longer his forever. How would you cope with the sudden engagement? For Blair, it's a hard pill to swallow, knowing that the beautiful girl smiling in all his pictures will get her forever. I guess it's a blue Christmas this year.

A/N: I have to make a confession: I hate Christmas music, but the first time I heard Sabrina Carpenter's 'Cindy Lou Who' I knew this was my kind of Christmas song. I love a sad song, and this song feeds my "angsty soul," So please give it a listen before you read. This whole story is my interpretation of the song. Hope you like it. Happy Holidays enjoy!!!!

Requests: Here

Word Count: 6K

Warning: Mentions of Sex, Strong Angst and Laungue, Family Dynamics, Mentions of Pregnancy, Heartbreak.

I don’t think sneaking my ex-boyfriend out of my parent’s house is the best look for anyone on Christmas morning, but technically, it’s still Christmas Eve if you haven’t gone to sleep yet, right?—To be fair, he was the one knocking on my window, stumbling his way to my bed. Casually, bringing up the past, circling back to things I thought I had already unpacked with my best friend after I scrolled his girlfriend’s social media, backtracking five years, to be honest, she had me broader line obsessed.

He made his way to my bed and in between my legs, touching place and sharing space in the best way we knew how, and that’s the funny thing about having history with someone—sometimes it makes it harder to say no when it’s knowingly what you want the second they step foot into a place that once served as a sanctuary to you both—a garden where words weaved trust, that turned into secrets, carving out a space of our very own; a world that we created and while he wasn’t my first kiss he was everything else.

I’ve lost track of how many times our words of forever were passed between our mouths, tangled in shared breaths of “I swear until the day I die, I’m yours.” When you’re young, you believe it because it’s all you have—and we took that with us when we thought we were ready for the world—two foolish kids on an endeavor to forge these grown-up dreams of a grand gesture without a second thought, only relying on the word “love,” like love could weather any storm.

The hardest lesson we learned was that love isn’t always enough. Sometimes, you can love someone with all your being and forget that they’re not a possession—but a person. Was that our mistake? I don’t know, but we wanted to be our own people at some point and find ourselves outside of only identifying as “we.” 

Let me tell you, that’s a hard pill to swallow, and from time to time, I still find myself choking on it, especially when it is obvious we still click—we didn’t need sex to know that we still worked, fit together like a puzzle that had been forgotten, and dusted off, only to find that you still had every single piece. Still, when Harry tried to kiss me goodbye, I pulled away.

“Hey—what is it…tell me?” he asks

“Nothing…it’s just late. You know how my mom is about Christmas morning.” I lie because the reality of his leaving is starting to sink in. I’m not ready for him to leave, but we both knew that there would be an ending to this.

He laughs, attempting to shrug his jacket on, and I glimpse the joy of the familiar memory dance across his features, “Yeah, she can be kind of crazy, right?”

“Yeah—but not any crazier than your mom,” I laugh. 

“Hey now—actually…you know they kind of feed off each others crazy…” He says, fighting to find the sleeve of his jacket, and when I reach to help, something falls from his pocket, a loud thud clashing against the hardwood floor. I look down, thinking he knocked something off my shelf, but then I see it.

We both stare at the ground, a small box lying in the space between us, “You shouldn’t have…” I declare, bending down—Looking back now, I don’t know what I was thinking—You know this tends to happen when you rely on your wit to get you out of awkward situations. I thought it would be cute and clever. I would open the box, and it wouldn’t be exactly what I knew it was—a ring, but not just any ring—the ring.

“Hey—hey—hey…give me that,” He jokes, trying to turn it into a game, but I’m in too deep to give it up. I can only focus on getting a peek at the ring, which is now a broken promise, and right this second, I’m desperate enough to open this box—basque in the feeling of the “what if” this was mine.

I turn away, shoving his hand out of the way, compulsively straining to get a look at this ring, immediately getting aggressive when he tries to reach over my shoulder. “Stop Harry—” I urge.

“Come on, Blair—this isn’t funny…” He says, unamused, but he’s too late, and as I shove my elbow into his ribs, the box is flipping open, the glint of the diamond catching the light of the moon shining through the window. He stops then because what’s the use, right? Here it is—the ring—perfect, everything I would have wanted. It’s almost like a slap in the face, like he looked back on one of the many pictures I sent over the years, thinking one day this would be me. 

The ring is stunningly beautiful. There is so little light yet it’s drawn to every facet; immaculate, precise cuts creating the perfect sparkle. There is nothing humble about it, but nothing seems to be humble about him anymore, including his life choices—and here I am, holding my breath, afraid to move, listening to his flustered exhale when I slam the box closed, a loud clap shut. 

Without a word, I nudge him away from me, “Blair, listen—I was going to tell you…”

“When—? Before or after we had sex, Harry…Is that what this was?” I yell.

He panics and cups a hand over my mouth. It’s not hard, but it annoys the hell out of me, and I wrench his arm away, forcing him toward the window, “Don’t you fucking do that—you don’t get to do that—”

“I’m sorry—but seriously, Blair, let’s not wake your family,”

I let out a dry laugh, “Oh—trust me, they would understand—” I seeth.

“Oh, for fucks sake, Blair, that’s not fair—I don’t know what this was…I just really wanted to see you—” he says, raking a hand through his hair, a deep crease forming between his brows, and he licks his lips, running a hand down his face as he turns away.

“What do you want me to do? This is the way it’s supposed to work out. You know my family …I don’t really have a say. You know that—”

“Please—Harry—you’re almost 30 years old. You don’t think you have any say in your life?”

He turns around, a condescending laugh filling the space, “You of all people should understand…”

“Well—I thought I did…but I don’t think I do anymore. It just doesn’t make sense…none of this seems to make sense anymore. I don’t understand how we could be perfectly fine one day, and as soon as your dad put you on the path to be a partner at his firm—which we both knew would happen—” I start.

He shakes his head, pinching his lower lip between his thumb and index finger, contemplating my words, “Help me make it; make sense. When we knew all along what the path was going to be. Were did “WE” get lost because I did nothing but support you, and then you went away on that trip with your family—”

“And you’re on about this again…” he interrupts, words cutting like knives because this was the theme of some of our biggest arguments.

I’m shaking my head this time, confusion inching through my brain, straining to grasp for details I thought I packed away. “Now that’s not fair…” I force, my throat burning with the effort of biting back tears. 

“Listen—this is my fault—” he says, reaching for the box, “I shouldn’t have come. I knew this would be a bad idea, but I just—”

I grasp onto the box, wanting to catch his eyes. I want to see the regret, “Tell me, does it hurt you, hurting me…I could have waited for your mom’s Facebook post…I know she’s over the moon with her…just fucking smitten that’s she’s everything and more—”

“I should go,” he says, his eyes darting to the window before he slides the box into his pocket. He opens the window, and the cold breeze flits into the dark room, reminding me of how little I have on. My eyes float to the bed, already mourning us like a fading memory—disappointment crawling up my spine, the sick twist of regret already tearing at my emotions as tears fill my eyes.

“Yeah, this was a bad idea…” I tell him, choking on the words, and I can feel my body starting to tremble. I want him gone, forever, to leave and be with his girlfriend, who will get him in the daylight. Who will kiss the mouth of the man I love for the rest of her life—and I’m sick—sick with the thought of them—and damn—This was easier when there was distance when I could pretend he didn’t exist.

“I’m sorry, bee—” He whispers, a slight trimmer in his voice as he reaches out to me, and let him because if this is all that is left. I want that last kiss. I want a kiss from the lips that were once mine, but when he pulls me in, I reach for his face, and he interjects, grasping my hands in his, denying me my one last wish.

“Harry…” I whisper, hot tears burning my eyes, “It’s just you and me right now…” I plead because he has that look of goodbye in his eyes; the reality setting in, like me standing here in his old tee-shirt, is too real for him—The cold draft of the air brings the world in with it. Yes, I feel it too, but his hands are so warm, his face is so sweet and kind, and I know what he’s about to do.

“Bee—” He tries, swallowing hard, like the words are stuck in his throat, tears drawing in his eyes, and he rubs his lips together, shaking his head as his eyes dart to our hands, and I grip his hands harder because he’s going to leave—he’s going to leave, and I’m never going to get his back; This man—the love of my life. There’s never a time he hasn’t had me, and he’s going to leave, he’s going to move on, and he will still have me because I could never let him go.

And when the tears spill over and fall down his cheeks, my body aches with a longing that’s so deep in my bone it hurts—my love for him hurts so fucking bad that I don’t think I’ll ever not love him or not want to be with him. He’s standing here breaking my heart all over again, and I still love him. I still want him always and forever like he fucking promised me because he did promise, and now she gets him; she gets to have my always and forever.

Now he’s pulling away, and I won’t let him go; I can’t let him go. “Bee…please…” he begs softly.

“I love you,” I cry out, “I love you so much, H—” and he pulls me into his body, letting me sob into his chest, my hot breath seeping into his body, and I breathe him in, trying to memorize our scent, but it there like muscle memory something I could never forget.

“You know I love you, Bee…” he breathes, pressing a warm kiss to the top of my head, “You know I will always love you, but you know that we can never do this again…”

His words slice through my pain, filling me with rage, and he’s right. We can’t do this ever again; he doesn’t get to have me like this and go back to her—and I’m so fucking mad at myself for falling into his trap because I’ve been so good. I can’t even remember the last time I talked to him. He knew what would happen when he knocked on my window, and I was so stupid to let him—yet here he is still wielding his power. 

“You have to go,” I tell him, trying to force myself from his arms, and Harry’s grip tightens.

“I’m sorry, Bee—”

“No—this was wrong—this was all wrong, and you shouldn’t have done this…we shouldn’t have done this—”

I push him toward the window, angry adrenaline a trimmer in my fingertips when I bring a shaky hand up to tuck my hair behind my ear, “You did this to us…” I tell him.

“I’m—” he starts, and I know he’s just going to try and apologize, but that will never be enough, not when I know what happens next—and what? Did he use me? Did he feel sad and come looking for my sympathy?

“Leave—” I spit.

“Bee…come on—”

“Leave!” I say louder, loud enough to send an echo through the room. He stiffens, his panic reaching his face, and I cross my arms over my chest.

“Fine—” he hisses, his hair falling into his face as he bends his body halfway through the window. Harry doesn’t even look back; he doesn’t even give me a tiny morsel of hope, and I don’t know what I was expecting. Then Harry is out the window, and I slam it shut, swiping the curtains closed.

“Merry fucking Christmas, you Asshole…” I breathe, falling onto the bed to cry. 

…

Here’s the thing about Christmas in my house: we wake up and celebrate, and nothing else is allowed. It’s the one time of the year when my mom is allowed to live in the delusion that everything is merry and bright. There’s no space to be sad. She’s up with the rising sun, her hair perfectly manicured, her make-up set for pictures, wrapped in a festive robe she just “rolled out of bed” in, and then she’s on to two more outfit changes. 

So this morning, when I woke, ready to welcome her joyful cheer, I was surprised to see none. I found her standing at the sink, my dad leaning against the counter like I had just interrupted a fight, maybe some disagreement they didn’t want me part of. My first thought was that they knew. They saw Harry leaving, or maybe my voice had carried, and they heard me arguing with him.

It was like being a teenager all over again as I walked toward the coffee maker to pour myself a cup. Without fail, the clink of the dish against the stone countertop ricochets through the thick silence in the room, making me jumpy; the slurp of the pour is interrupted when my mom speaks. “All I’m going to say is let’s get through this day. I don’t want to talk about it. We can call all touch base once everyone is gone—Bee, will you stay longer this time or not?” 

I’m in the midst of taking a sip, and the hot liquid hits my top lip, burning me as my eyes move from my dad to my mom in question, confused by whatever this is that I walked in on, “I wasn’t sure if I wanted to stay longer…I have a project—”

“Can you—?” she asks flatly like you better say “yes.” 

I look to my dad, who raises his brows, eyes widening, and he blows out a breath, his lip puffing as he brings his coffee to his mouth, “Fine.” I answer because it doesn’t seem like there’s any other option.

And that was it—She switched up her mood as quickly as the conversation ended. I stood there sipping my coffee, mentally preparing, and that’s how we carried on, pushing it under the rug.

It started with presents, each gift given its proper praise, mom all smiles, dad snapping pictures, my sister nudging my shoulder as a constant reminder to keep up the show, and it was perfect—it was— but every time the camera flashed. I could feel myself drifting to the thought of all the pictures that would greet me when I opened my phone—How her red lips and long dark hair would steal my breath, her beauty outshining us all. 

She became the jealous quake in my bones at the thought of Harry down on one knee, entrancing my thoughts, repeatedly threatening to pull me out of the moment—and now my mom is shouting from across the room, bidding for my attention, as I try and swallow the persistent lump burning a hole in my throat, making every word a battle of will to say the most straight-forward sentence—and it wasn’t fair; It wasn’t fair that I got to sit with it all day—a reel of memories cascading through my mind, always the slightest reminder to remind me of the past.

The smallest gestures, a deep-seeded pain strangling my insides; all my dad had to do was glance down at his watch. The watch Harry gave him when he turned forty or every time my mom tucked her behind her ear, I caught sight of the diamond earrings he got her and his mom, making them both laugh the last Christmas we all shared because that was our thing—it almost doesn’t seem real that our moms used to be best friends, nowadays it feels like a lifetime since they even shared one word, my mom growing bitter the day Harry broke my heart.

A sudden breakup can wreck anyone, and inherently, our families became the collateral damage, causing a complicated ripple through our families, a rigid divide that none of us knew how to address, let alone manage any semblance of a relationship; maybe that was our fault. I couldn’t be his friend. It hurt too much to try and mask my feelings, to manipulate them into something they weren’t, like right now—how I’m torturing myself, scrolling through social media, almost hoping I’ll see the pictures I know his mom will post. Perhaps it will be what I need; to rip the bandaid off, the right push I need to fucking move on because I don’t know how much longer I can live in the misery of what was and wasn’t.

Dissasoiating—the word of the day—a single word that could describe my whole day because somehow it’s dinner, and I’m sitting around the table trying to piece together the lapse in time I’ve lost. All it takes is one look at my mom to straighten up and be present. I don’t even know what they’re talking about, nor do I care, but when my cousin Jenny asks me to pass the potatoes, and the light captures the glint of her new engagement ring, my stomach drops, the hideous ache of jealousy climbing up my spine, and I’m sick again, my stomach turning at the thought, that maybe he’s already done it, maybe he’s asked her and she’s wearing his ring on her finger, and they’re sitting around the table; and every time she takes a bite it reflects the light from the chandler, everyone smiling because what a happy time, what a perfect day; what a bright fucking future they have.

This time, I can’t control it; it’s all too much, and I’m scraping the chair back, politely excusing myself, then bounding to the upstairs bathroom, yanking my phone from my pocket—and without a passing thought, I’m doing it—I’m calling Harry—by the first ring, I’m in panic mode, pacing back and forth, willing myself to end the call, trying to keep the phone from sliding down my sweaty palm.

I’m all adrenaline as I force the phone against my ear, the ring getting louder, and each time it rings, a gnarled knot of guilt builds in the depth of my belly. I keep looking to the toilet on the verge of falling to my knees and heaving anything that made its way to my stomach—then Harry forwards the fucking call to voicemail, and tears are spilling over my lids, my whole body hot, like maybe I’ll combust right here, explode with the fury of heat rising in my body.

I’m surprising myself when I press his name again, bringing the phone back to my ear, and I hold my breath, waiting for the first ring. It rings and then rings again, and by the third ring, I think I might get through—and it’s all a joke because yeah fucking right—By the fifth ring, I’m second-guessing myself again, shame eating away at my flesh, and then he’s forwarding the call again—my shame flying out the window.

Okay, yes, maybe this is the part where I tell you I should be embarrassed—but fuck it, I’m calling again, losing myself a little more each time he forwards my call. By the 8th call, I’m tormenting myself, a pitiful excuse of a human on the ground so caught up in my own grief that I don’t even hear my sister knocking on the door. The knock sounds, making my heart leap in my chest, the fear of being caught ripping through like an earth quack, and I’m up, catching sight of my reflection in the mirror, not even recognizing the person looking back at me. 

I haven’t felt this desperate since we broke up, like an anxious tick buzzing under my skin. The humiliation of it all is a time bomb, counting down the seconds until it ignites inside me—and I’m there. I ignore the steady stream of knocks and crouch down like the monster I’ve become because I can’t look at myself and do what I know I’m about to do—it’s my one last stance, and I shoot Harry a text:

“Your a fucking coward!” I send and then realize I used the wrong fucking “your,” and my pride won’t let me go out like this. I send a quick “you’re” to fix my mistake and watch the screen, knowing he is now more aware of his than before. When the line changes from “delivered” to “read,” I watch the tiny dots collect in the corner of the screen, awaiting his reply—they appear and disappear several times until it finally stops altogether, and he leaves me on read.

Just as I’m about to send “fuck you!” my sister opens the door, pushing the bobby pin she used to pick the lock back into her hair, and closes the door behind her. “Dude, whatever is going on right now—you need to get it together—it’s one fucking day, okay…that’s all mom asks for, and she’s down there growing impatient. So seriously…if you’re up here freaking out about another dude you met on a dating app—like this isn’t the time—”

“I had sex with Harry—” I confess right then and there because I know this will be the only thing that will make her understand.

“No—” she says, pulling a handful of toilet paper from the roll, “We’re not doing this right now…” She wipes the tears from my face and forces me out of the bathroom and into my room.

“You have two minutes to get your shit together. I need Mom to be in a good mood today…listen, I have big shit going on too, but you don’t see me up here crying—” and she’s right. I saw her pregnancy test in our shared bathroom trash. She must have been panicked when she half-assed her wrapping job on her test. I know I taught her better than that, but this was what I needed to pull myself back up.

I came down the stairs with a smile. Everyone in the sitting room was having coffee and dessert; this was the last stretch. This is all we had left, and then I can check my phone that my sister made me leave upstairs—and so I would drone on keeping up with conversations, tossing out witty remakes, bringing laughter and joy to everyone around, and when my mom sent me a genuine smile, I felt myself smiling back, enjoying the company of my family; and when dad slipped me the “good” eggnog I realized that there’s nothing better at taking the edge off then alcohol.

Four eggnogs in on an empty stomach, and I was working the room, exaggerating about my life and all the projects I’ve taken on at work, dodging questions about my dating life, and when my grandma brought up Harry four times, dammit, I didn’t even flinch, I just kept the conversation moving, filter out the emotions coursing through me like a breeze on a sunny day, right before a summer storm sets in. I even kept it cute and classy when cousin Jen took her engagement ring on a tour around the room, gutting me like a fish when she said, “I never thought I would get married before you…you know…like you and Harry were like “it” you know—” and I’m smiling again, getting a nod of approval from mom when she hears me congratulate Jen again, admiring her beautiful ring.

By eggnog five, I’m switching to “what he’s having,” I shout to my dad as I watched him pour, maybe whisky over the rocks, a shallow pour, but it packed a punch. I knew it was time to dial it back when I found myself leaning over Jenny, who was flipping between her social platforms, landing on Facebook, where I know for a fact Harry’s mom would be posting, taking care to tag everyone in each photo—which brings me back to the time when dear ole’ cousin Jenny started following Harry. It was Christmas break, we had just turned fifteen, and I could tell she had a crush on him. She spent all Christmas break following us around, cornering him anytime she could get him alone; I had to share my bed with her that Christmas, and I remember how miserable I was without the gift of Harry crawling through my window on Christmas Eve.

It’s wild to think of how feeble my grasp on time was when we were young, how a couple of weeks could feel like an eternity; it’s been less than a day since I saw him last. How am I supposed to go a lifetime of never hearing his voice again, to look into those green eyes that have seen me through so many changes, not to feel those hands that have cradled me like a child, held me like a lover, squeezing and pulling me into shapes that fit him; arms that carried and lifted me to heights that I could never have reached on my own—and maybe I speaking figuratively because no one has carried me at my worst or lifted me at my best until I was the best version of myself, but isn’t funny how the people that bring out our best know exactly how to rally the worst parts of us.

Mom taps her dessert spoon to her glass, grabbing everyone’s attention. It’s time for her big send-off speech. My eyes dart to my sister leaning against the fireplace, rolling her eyes, “I just want to start by saying I’m so thrilled that you’ve all chosen to spend this joyous holiday with us…you all know this is my absolute favorite holiday and every year I look forward to spending it with each and every one of you—” she tells us raising her glass, and everyone knows what’s coming next and as she starts her final lines— the same lines she uses every year—my sister sends me a wink mouthing the lines in unison with our mother.

“There’s no time like Christmas to let you know how appreciated you are. I feel honored to call you family…” and her hook, line, and sinker is, “May the light of Christmas warm your hearts this holiday season and remember love is the true spirit of Christmas—” 

My throat burns as she finishes, “And always know how much I love you and always will…so before I start getting too emotional, I better cut myself off—” she laughs, wiping a tear from her eye, and as much as I hate how crazy she gets about Christmas, she really is amazing at being so selfless; to give everyone such a beautiful day, and I’m so grateful for her and my family, and then the doorbell rings taken everyone by surprise. We all freeze, eyes moving around the room because we’re all here, and no one is expecting anyone.

“Fred—” my mom calls to my dad. “Are we expecting anyone else?” 

My dad’s reaction is slow, but he launches himself from the chair and excuses himself. When he comes back, he looks bewildered, half-tipsy as he shrugs his shoulder to tell us no one was there—and that was that. No one blinked an eye—yet my first thought was Harry, and I felt myself slipping because the whole day had passed; certainly, theirs was over by now, and the thought had me breaking my own heart, picturing her in his old bed, the whole family tucked away in their rooms, still riding out the high of such a magically joyful day.

And she’ll kiss his lip and say, “I love you.” He’ll lay her down in the bed I gave myself to him in, and he’ll make love to her like he loved me last night, and there is no end; there’s no end to the torture of it all because how can one person fuse themselves to every fiber of my being—and more importantly how could I still allow it?

As the last guest passed our threshold, Mom, being the gracious host she was, sent them off with candies and cookies, and I stood there wishing I was more like her, like my sister, who could always pretend, who knew how to wear “the smile” like a badge of honor. I wondered why this all had to be so hard. Why is love all or nothing? Why can’t we flip a switch and “poof,” it’s gone?

I watched my mom close the door, my siblings dispersing, and my dad already making his way back to his chair, but my mom just stood there. She let out a heavy sigh, her once perfect posture decompressing as she held on to the doorknob, “Oh Bee—” she said, eventually turning around to face me, and suddenly it looked like the weight of the day had finally caught up to her beautiful features, now tired—a mournful pinch between her brows, pursuing her lip while her eyes roamed my face. I’m trying my hardest to keep it together because there is something about that look a mom can give, that “I can fix everything with a hug” look.

“Do you need anything…I didn’t sleep very well last night. I was thinking of calling it early. if that’s okay?” I ask

“Oh honey, don’t worry about it…it’s been a long day for everyone,” she states, unbuttoning the first two buttons of her silk blouse, that mourful look still lacing her features.

“Let’s just deal with the clean up tomorrow…sound good, baby?” she tells me, slinging an arm around my shoulder, “I know today was hard for you…Thank you for being such a good sport. I’m so proud of the way you handled yourself. You did a beautiful job, sweetie.”  Her words catch me off guard, and I turn to face her, my throat burning at the thought that she knows everything.

I swallow hard, opening my mouth to let out the words building up, but I can only manage a small whimper. “Listen, honey,” Mom starts, and I’m already a puddle in her arms, wanting my mommy to make it all better.

“I’m not going to lie and say it gets better, but one day, it’s not going to hurt as bad as it hurts right now, and eventually, when you find someone new—” 

I gasped out a sob then, her words hitting every sore spot on my body, “Shhh—Shh—I know baby, I know—but listen,” She said, cradling my face in her hands, “I know that this isn’t what you want to hear—”

“But one day you will find someone new, and they’ll be just enough to get you over that last slump of pain, and maybe if you’re lucky enough…which I know you are…Harry will become a pleasant memory of the past, baby, because both of you were so lucky to have what you had. Not everyone will get to say they had a love like the two of you shared, and that is so so special, honey, so special—”

The tears are rolling down my cheeks faster than my mom can swipe them away, and it’s taking every ounce of strength I have to keep myself upright, “I love him so much—” I push past the sob, shuttering through me.

“I know, honey, I know—one of the hardest lessons we can learn is to let the people we love go, let them go so they can be free, and if it’s meant to be, they’ll come back—”

“I can’t, Mom, I can’t do it,” I cry, trying to bury my face into her shoulder, but she has a firm grip on it. Blair Marie, you are so strong, honey, and we are all here for you. You can do this, okay?” she says, nodding her head up and down.

“Okay?” She asks again, and I nod in agreement, “Listen—between you and me, we’re going to have our hands full anyway, right? Don’t think I don’t know about your sister—she’s next.”

I’m stunned into silence. “Yeah, I know. That’s how I felt at first. Honey, I love you. I am here for you. Now go get some rest…” she says, pushing me toward the stairs.

“Oh—and hopefully, we aren’t expecting any unexpected guests this evening….”

I shake my head, “I—” 

“Yeah, slamming your window at the crack of dawn is a dead give away—”

Somehow, she manages to get a smile out of me, and I roll my eyes, ready to make my way up the stairs, “Hey, Mom, thank you for making today so beautiful…it really was beautiful.” I tell her.

“Oh—! And Mom, thank you for those kind words. I love you.” she smiles, placing a hand over her heart, and we share a look of knowing—and without a doubt, that woman managed to lift my spirits—again. She’s too good at that; she is father fucking Christmas.

And while my heart still felt heavy, I felt like I could get through this night. I would march into my room, head straight for my phone, and turn it off; there would be no doomsday scrolling. I would take a shower, hell maybe even take a hot bath to rid myself of this day—Maybe I would even start packing away everything in my childhood room that reminded me of him, set myself up for the next year, and seriously, it was amazing how quickly the motivation surged up my chest; almost bursting at the seams with the very thought of it.

So by the time I turned my knob, I was ready, so fucking ready—But as the door clicked open, a cold chill grazed over my wrist. All I saw was my curtains billowing back and forth with the breeze flowing in and out of my window, and I rushed over to shut the damn window because I didn’t remember opening it, but maybe my sister opened it while I was fixing my make up earlier and that’s when I hear it:

“Bee—” 

I slam the window shut, panic rushing through me, every limb of my body shaking with it as I turn toward the sound. And there he is, the love of my life, sitting on the edge of my bed, hunched over with his face buried in his hands, and when he looks up. I can tell he’s been crying, and he pulls a small box from his pocket and places it on the nightstand, right next to the very same box that held his future, and all he says is, “I couldn’t do it—”

[adrift-in-thyme]

Ok I caved

CHAPTER 7 IS UP

Link bonds with Sky, eats at the Lumpy Pumpkin, gets an official nickname…And realizes that Hylia might not be as far away as he thought

[yanderenightmare]

TW: noncon, yandere, omegaverse, subjugation, some type of sexism, angsty, also a little fluffy?

fem reader

Discussions about superiority and inferiority between Alphas, Betas, and Omegas have become more popular lately. It’s always been many people’s opinion that the weak should cater to those stronger than them—but a debate with that as its topic is unsavory. Unfortunately, they’ve found new ways to phrase it. 

A resonating “Unmated Omegas are a danger to themselves!” garners much more sympathy…

And with the rise of people talking about it in the media, it was only natural to move the conversation into school as well.

You keep your head bowed in class as the chill runs down your spine. You feel the glare of thirty fellow students—the points of their teeth, too, and how they snicker under their breath. It’s always been rather scary being an omega, but you can’t say you’ve ever felt quite so alone.  

The teacher’s an alpha, so why should he care how what he says impacts you? He’s preaching to the choir, and you’ve never had the right to sing. The three other Omegas in your class have all chosen to stay home. They probably have the right idea—wait it out until it all blows over.

But you don’t know when that might be… You don’t know if that will be.

Society is on the precipice of critical change—new politics, new laws, new systems, new rights that separate you from them. You wallow in fear of the outcome, lying awake at night and scrolling through the news under the safety of your duvet. The statements seem endless. You wonder, why are all politicians Alphas?

You don’t want any of the things they’re suggesting—mating homes to help you find the perfect Alpha to bond with, systematic pairings done from birth, auctions. Is no one going to suggest they put shock collars on all Alphas and Betas to keep them in check? They’re the ones who need to—

“Your scent is distracting the whole class—don’t you feel ashamed?” 

It’s too easy for him to have you bent over the desk, your wrist on your back in his big fist as he wraps his tie around them. He and his goons stand around, all smiles—watching—enjoying it. It’s as if they’ve planned the whole thing, the way two of them peel away from the crowd to grab each their pick of your feet. Parting them, they use your own shoelaces to tie them to the desk legs.

The ringleader laughs. There’s an awful smell coming off him in waves—it makes you quiver. He flips your skirt up and whistles at the sight, showing everyone your ass and cotton undies. The bulge he presses against you is enough to make your tears spill despite how hard you’d fought to keep them at bay, knowing it only arouses them further.

“Aww, don’t cry, little bitch. You should be happy,” he coos, leaning over your trapped form to whisper right at your ear. “Don’t you know? You’ll never feel happier than you will bouncing on my big Alpha dick. It’s all your little Omega cunt dreams about, isn’t it?” He snickers, fiddling with his belt buckle—you flinch at every sharp clink as he jostles the metal. “Well, salvation is here—”

“Keep it to yourself.” Another voice breaks through the sounds of hollers and cheers.

Your eyes open to see him. You despise how your heart jumps in relief.

“Oi, you—” the guy at your back challenges, stepping away from you and toward the interruption.

“Yeah, me,” he states blankly, jaded. He eyes the rest of the guys with disinterest—five betas, zero threat—before telling them, “All of you. Scram.”

They all take a step to walk out as if his voice alone had compelled them, but then the previous guy interjects, making them stop in their tracks again. “Tch—you know what they’re saying. All unmated Omegas are free game, and I won this one. So back off.”

It was like watching a match of tug-of-war.

“Heh,” the intruder laughs. “That rule only counts for Alphas.”

You spot your aggressor's fists curl—there’s a growl rumbling in the back of his throat. “I am an Alpha, asshole.”

“Really?” he feigns, sizing him up with a cocky tilt of his head. “Couldn’t tell.” He doesn’t seem fazed in light of the aggression—actually, it seems to amuse him if anything. “To me, you smell no different from all these other Beta losers.” 

He takes a casual step forward, hands in his pockets and a smile on his face—baring canines with grace.

“But if you wanna prove it, I’m ready when you are.”

It’s quiet after the declaration. The betas are unsure who’s side to pick, none of them eager to get caught in the middle. It becomes a competition purely between the two Alphas.

Without backup, your aggressor backs down and leaves.

“Thought so,” your savior jeers, showing the crowd out, closing and locking the door behind them.

It’s quiet after they’ve left.

You hide your face. Listening to his footsteps approach—he sighs when taking the place of the former guy. He doesn’t touch you, though.

“Y’know…” he starts. “That guy might be trash, but he isn’t wrong…” He picks up your skirt and drapes it back in place. “None of this would ever happen if you weren’t unmated.”

You speak through grit teeth. “Untie me.”

He chuckles familiarly at that, clicking his tongue at you. “What? Aren’t you gonna say please?” But he does what you say anyway. Squatting down, he starts with your ankles.

The scent of your fear still lingers in the air despite your tough act. You’ve always been so steadfast, ever since you were kids, even when it does you no good. He frees your feet—one, then the other, slowly—he even reties your laces into pretty bows before he’s done. 

He remembers it being so obvious. The sun rose in the morning and the moon at night, and you were supposed to be an Alpha while he a Beta at best. You promised you’d be by his side to keep him safe forever, and he wanted nothing more.

But then puberty hit, and nothing was as you’d imagined.

He stands and unknots the tie keeping your wrists restrained.

You immediately push him off—already storming away.

“Do I get no thank you, no nothing? Always so stubborn—” He grabs your arm.

You spin around, an unnatural snarl on your face. “Let go!”

You’d have been a terrifying Alpha. But as fate has it, you’re not. And you shouldn’t act like it. It only lands you in trouble.

But he doesn’t say that. 

“You been watchin’ the news?” he says instead, ignoring your cry and keeping a firm grip on your arm. “Seems like auctions are winning the voters. You know what that means?”

He feels you flinch, followed by a quiver. He can tell. No matter how good you are at hiding it. He can see—the way you’re fraying at the edges, barely holding it together. Always acting so strong. He can’t tell whether you enjoy torturing yourself or if you’re just that good at convincing yourself you’re fine.

“Pretty soon, new authorities are gonna come storming in here, roundin’ up every sorry unmated Omega they find, and put ‘em all on a farm where pompous Alphas can have their pick of the litter.”

He can never tell what you’re thinking, but he knows he doesn’t need to tell you any of this. You’re not stupid, you never have been. He knows you already know. But…

“You should decide now while it’s still your choice.” 

You must be terrified. He understands. But truly… it’s obvious what you have to do, isn’t it?

“It’s not like you have many options.”

It’s obvious. It always has been.

You don’t meet his eyes. You haven’t for a long while. Actually, you haven't since both of you got your test results. He understands this wasn’t what you had in mind, but you can’t afford to mope about it forever—

“How am I supposed to choose any Alpha when you’re all such assholes…”

Your mutter stunts him. It wasn’t what he expected. Or, the words were more or less exactly something he’d expect from you, but that voice—quiet and soft, dangling on the brink of sweet. If you’d said anything else, he’d have taken it as a confession.

“Can't argue with that,” he ends up chuckling again.

You hate how easy this is for him. He would cry at every turn when you were kids. It’s unfair. 

“But you can’t keep doing this, either,” he states. His voice is soft, paired with that ugly authority they all have when talking to you—talking down to you. “Just look where it gets you—scared and exhausted because of it. At least have the brains to stay home.” He says it as if it’s a joke, but you both know it isn’t. His chuckles are light—far from fullhearted.

He bends down, trying to find your eyes. He still holds onto your arm, knowing you’d sooner stomp away than listen to him. His other hand brushes your cheek gently, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“You hear the call from the rafters—it’s not about what you want anymore. It’s about what you need.”

That’s what they say, isn’t it? What you need. You want to slap him. Scratch him with claws, bite his throat out—make him choke on his own words. Need? What you need is for them all to fuck off.

You mean to say it with the same sentiment, but something hard and rough in your throat makes all your words come out wobbly. “Mate an Alpha to stay safe from other Alphas. What a joke.”

You bow your head further. The tears return. They burn as they trail down the sore streaks from before.

He’s never seen you like this. He won’t lie, it makes his pants tight—feeling the urge to suck your cheeks, hold you close and comfort you. But knowing you right, you’d probably never let him. Your face would probably scrunch up in disgust, punch his gut, knee his groin, then turn on your heel and leave him on the floor wheezing.

You really would have made the most terrifying Alpha. 

“The world isn’t fair,” he agrees. “But you get nowhere cryin’ about it—do it my way, and you’ll never—”

“Have any freedom,” you cut him off with a sniffle. 

It’s about the most adorable thing he’s seen in his life.

He gets why you don’t like Alphas—they’re all gross. He makes himself sick sometimes. He can’t believe he’s getting off on watching you have a mental breakdown. There’s something seriously wrong with his side of the species. His throat’s tight, mouth watery with the urge to reap your vulnerability. 

Suppressing it only makes his inner beast furious. Some of that aggression comes out in his next words.

“I’m sorry, but the world doesn’t give a shit about your freedom.” 

The grip around your arm tightens, and you look up in shock—watching his narrowed eyes through your watery ones. 

“What you need is safety—now more than ever. Or do you like being preyed on by every Alpha around the corner?” 

Your bottom lip trembles at the reality of it—a little while ago, you were almost— 

“One of these days, I'm not gonna be here in time, and you’ll be a slave to some fucking—” 

He huffs and hangs his head. His hand loosens up—it trembles where he holds you in place.

“In all honesty, I think I’m more scared than you,” he whispers under his breath. “I think I might kill—”

He stops himself again. You don’t know if it’s in an effort not to frighten you or himself.

“Speak about needs…” he begins anew, now softer. “I need to know you’re safe. I need to—” He looks up. His eyes are back to being round. “I need you more than you need me, probably.”

There’s a desperation on his face. It almost looks like he’s on the verge of tears himself.

“So… please?” he begs. “Will you keep me safe like you promised and stay by my side?”

Your tears dry and prickle. Looking into his eyes now, you see the same boy you knew back in your childhood—that one who’d chase you all over even when you’d call him a sniveling crybaby. You realize, Alpha or not, he hadn’t changed all that much at all. 

“It’s not like you need my permission,” you end up saying.

You’ve always been so hard-headed. He has to smile. “No, but I want it.”

You nibble your lip. You can’t believe you’re at the mercy of this big dumb hunk of… you don’t have the words to describe him. He wasn’t exactly a crybaby anymore. 

“Okay. You win.” 

His eyes widen as you bear your neck with a stretch. Head high and shoulders slack. 

You swallow thickly. “Get it over with.”

He shudders at the sight. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but now it almost seemed too soon. 

“We should be supervised by a professional—you know how wrong things can go—”

“Hurry up before I change my mind.” Your eyes remain shut, and your lips pursed.

His tongue grows thick in his mouth at your bark. A sudden stroke of performance anxiety makes his palms sweaty, hands heavy and shaking. But then the sight of your soft neck has his mood shift, becoming drowsy.

He has no control over the growl that begins rumbling from his gut.

But he doesn’t apologize for it either.

He bends forward—breaths on your chest before he licks your throat. You can’t help but whimper at the warmth. He watches you through hooded eyes—your usually angry face is now all cute, riddled with anxiety you try hiding paired with the grim anticipation of pain.

“Shh,” he soothes, kissing the spot softly. He sways you against him, then lifts you up on the desk for you to sit. Grazing your neck with teeth when feeling your hands tangle two fistfuls of his shirt. He expects you to push him away, but you don’t—you tug him closer instead as if silently telling him to hurry up.

But he doesn’t want to rush, doesn’t want to lose himself—that’s how accidents happen. So he sticks to sucking gently, only tiny nibbles that leave your skin hot and lightly bruised in their wake.

You give a moan once he finds the spot, and he growls in restraint upon the pretty sound—feeling you relax despite being threatened with his teeth right at your artery. He almost humps your leg in return, feeling the boil of blood pump him hot and heavy in his pants—breaths turning equally hot and heavy, each one laced with rust.

Drool coated your neck in a cool sheen, soothing the marks made beneath it, while his lips and fangs aroused pleasure in the spot that now ached for the sting of his bite.

“Please,” slipped from your mouth while tugging him closer. 

His eyes, completely drunk on the pretty prayer, had only a slim rim of color left surrounding the hungering bottomless pits, blown full and black with opium.

No one could come and take you away from him now. Not with his print so pretty on your neck. You were his—just as you were always supposed to be.

♡ BNHA – Deku, Kirishima, Natsuo, Amajiki, Mirio ♡ JJK – Yuji, Yuuta ♡ HQ – Kuro, Miya twins ♡ DS – Tanjiro, Zenitsu

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[monzabee]

prison for life - mv1

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where if anybody hurts you, Max is going to prison for life.

Pairing: max verstappen x pregnant!reader 

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: fluff, pregnancy, mentions of throwing up, cursing, kinda angsty in some places, jos verstappen

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i’ve been in such a max mood recently that is actually shocking to me, but i just needed some fluffy anything after working on smutty pieces for weeks. i got this idea in my dream and honestly i think it turned out better than i could’ve imagined!! feedback is always appreciated, and my requests are currently open if you want to check that out, i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

If you would have to choose a word to describe Max, it would be ‘overprotective’, because that’s what he is. It’s not a bad thing, per say. He isn’t overbearing or controlling at all, but he is simply overprotective. And if you thought he was overprotective when the two of you were dating or when you first got married, you have to admit that you were not, at all, prepared for his protectiveness when you told him that you were pregnant. Apart from his initial meltdown over becoming a dad, or rather becoming like his own father, Max has been pretty chill about the whole thing – with the exception being your safety, of course. The underlying problem isn’t the fact that you’re some sort of daredevil because you’re not, the problem is the fact that Max believes that everything is out to get you. 

The olives you wanted to eat for breakfast? Choking hazard.  

The candles you bought for the living room (to be purely decorative, but still)? Fire hazard.  

The pool lounger Victoria thought would be a cute addition to the pool? Drowning hazard.  

The seatbelt in his car that is surprisingly tight? Could be all three, according to Max, given the right (or wrong) circumstances.  

So, yeah, maybe he wasn’t that scared of becoming a dad, but he was surely scared of you being in danger. That’s why you agreed to stay back for the most races this year – you knew he didn’t need to worry about you or your baby’s safety on top of the stress he had to deal with during the usual racing weekend. That was until you realised how much you would miss your boyfriend after almost a month of not seeing him due to a triple header. And so, you did the thing any person with a common sense would do – flying out to see him without telling him beforehand, because what’s the fun in that?  

The sheer look of shock on his face might be the funniest thing you’ve ever seen when you meet him in his driver’s room, but of course Max doesn’t share the same sentiment as you. Because all he chooses to focus is the fact that you were on a plane – a 0.23% risk out of very 7.7 million flights each year, but still. He spends at least half an hour, just checking you over and assuring himself that you and the baby are fine; at some point he decides that you need to go to the nearest hospital to get an ultrasound just to make sure the baby is okay, but you tell him to fuck off and calm his tits down in the kindest way possible. And that’s how the two of you end up on the small couch in his driver’s room, with his arms around you as you lay between his legs, his hands splayed on the swell of your stomach as he caresses the skin through the fabric of your dress. His voice is low as he tells you about his day, mostly media duties since it is only Thursday, and how he thinks putting a cat tree in the nursery is a bad idea (that was your idea initially, but you can see how having two rumbunctious cats hang out in the nursery could cause problems). 

“I also thought about something else,” he mumbles, suddenly busying himself with the flower pattern of your dress instead of looking at you.  

You raise your brows slightly, motioning him to continue, but let out a huff when he doesn’t do so right away. “Come on,” you whine softly, “tell me what it is Maxie.”  

“I don’t want him to get into karting.” His words are soft, mumbled, and most definitely final. You know how Max can be when he puts his mind into it, and this particular topic has been a discussion in your household ever since the two of you found out that you were having a boy. “I don’t want him to go through what I went through.” 

Letting out a soft exhale, you motion Max to six next to you on the couch. “He won’t,” you assure him, voice soft as you give pleading looks at him, “you’re not your father, Max.” He gives you a look that basically begs for you to not dwell on the topic, but you continue despite the look he gives you, “And what if he wants to get into karting? Are you going to tell him no?” 

Max tries his best to ignore the knowing look you give him, knowing very well that he won’t be able to ever say ‘no’ to his son, who already has him wrapped around his finger. “I might do that, you never know.” He grumbles, hiding his face in your hair – though the soft giggles coming from you manages to put a soft smile on his face. “You’re supposed to agree with me, you know, we have to be a united front.”   

“We’ll discuss it when the baby comes, until then, I’ll be the voice of reason.” You emphasise, poking him at his bicep to convey your point. “You feel better now?” 

“Kinda,” he murmurs, leaving small kisses onto the exposed skin of your shoulder as he keeps on murmuring against your skin, “I would feel better if I knew you stayed in bed all day, relaxing.” 

With that, you choke a loud laugh, and motion him to stand up as you try to do it yourself – though, of course, he has to help with the baby bump being in the way of you doing any sort of physical activity. “You’re funny, let’s go get me ice cream.”  

The only response you get back is a confused look from your husband, his head tilted to the side as he eyes you warily. “What does that have to do with anything?” 

“Um, excuse me?” You raise an eyebrow, “Your son,” pointing to your stomach, you emphasise your words, “is craving ice cream right now.”  

Max’s eyes soften instantly, and a smile creeps across his face. He nods, taking your hand gently as he helps you up. “Well, if my son wants ice cream, then ice cream he shall have.” 

You giggle as you both make your way out of the driver’s room, Max's hand never leaving yours. The paddock is bustling with activity, but for a moment, it feels like it's just the two of you, cocooned in your little world. As you approach the nearest concession stand, Max’s protective instincts kick in once again. “Is this ice cream stand safe? How long have they been here? Do they have the proper health certifications?” 

You roll your eyes playfully. “Max, it’s ice cream, not a five-course meal. I’m sure it’s fine.” He sighs but nods, deciding to trust your judgment. After all, you did manage to fly all the way here without incident and somehow alerting him. You both get a generous serving of your favourite flavours, and as you sit down to enjoy your treat, you feel a sense of normalcy and contentment wash over you. 

Max watches you with a tender expression, his eyes filled with a mixture of love and worry. “I know I can be overprotective,” he says softly, reaching out to brush a stray hair from your face, “but it’s only because I love you so much.” 

You smile, leaning into his touch. “I know, Max. And I love you too. But sometimes, you need to trust that everything will be okay. We’ll figure things out together, just like we always do.” 

He nods, his gaze shifting to your belly. “You’re right. I guess I need to talk to my mom.”  

“Why?” You ask, tilting your head to the side in curiosity.  

“Well, she promised me she’d look after you but you’re here, so I think we need to have a talk about not keeping secrets from each other.” He mumbles, dragging a hand down his face. 

You laugh, nudging him playfully. “Oh, Maxie, who do you think helped me with my bags at the airport? Your mom is unsurprisingly a strong woman.” 

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. “I should’ve known better than to think you’d stay put for a whole month.” He sighs, but there’s a smile playing on his lips. “Alright, but next time, at least let me know you’re planning something. My heart can only take so much.” 

Max feels a lot better after tricking you with ice-cream into at least staying put withing the Red Bull hospitality for the day as he gets through his media duties. Max feels a lot better after tricking you with ice cream into at least staying put within the Red Bull hospitality for the day as he gets through his media duties. He periodically checks in, making sure you're comfortable and well-fed. Each time he sneaks a glance your way, you catch him with a knowing smile and a roll of your eyes, and he returns it with a wink. He knows that there is absolutely no reason for him to be checking on you as much as he does, because you’ll be fine in the cool hospitality suite with enough water to keep you hydrated for years, but he can’t help but worry about anything and everything going wrong. And his worries prove to be true when he sees the one person who he definitely doesn’t want around you.  

“What are you doing here?” He asks the approaching figure, “I thought you were not going to be coming to this race but the next one.”  

“Given the drop in your performance in the last few races I thought I should be here for... support.” His dad supplies, eyes finding you behind his son’s back on one of the couches in the hospitality, “And I can see the reason for why you’ve been distracted lately, what is she doing here?”  

Max scoffs, crossing his arms on his chest protectively, “She’s my wife, she is more than welcome to be here.” 

“She’s also a distraction, Max,” his father points out, “you’re going to lose your focus if you keep–” 

Since Max is faster than his father where it matters the most, he cuts him off before he can say anything further. “Leave, I don’t want you here.” 

Max’s father looks taken aback, his eyes widening momentarily before they narrow into a scowl. “Excuse me?” he says, his voice low and dangerous. 

“You heard me,” Max replies firmly, his stance unwavering. “I don’t want you here if you’re going to criticize my wife and stress me out, or worse, stress her out.” 

“You’re being irrational,” his father argues, taking a step closer. “I’m just trying to help you stay focused.” Seeing that his son is not going to back down anytime soon, he points a threatening finger towards him. “I’ll be back on race day, but you better be ready to put in a winning performance,” his father finishes, his voice laced with finality. He turns on his heel and walks away, leaving a tense silence in his wake. 

Max sighs deeply, running a hand through his hair as he watches his father disappear into the crowd. Looking back at you over his shoulder, talking to some interns from the social media team, he can’t help but feel the dread of you having to face his father – which gives him another reason to somehow stop the two of you from running into each other during the weekend.  

On Friday, Max’s luck decides to do him a favour as you tell him that you’re not feeling well enough to go to the track with him for the qualifying, and though it is true that he wants you to be with him, he also realises that this will give him one less thing to worry about. He knows how stressful it can be for you to navigate the bustling paddock and deal with the crowds, especially with the added pressure of possibly encountering his father. 

“You rest up, okay?” he says, his voice full of concern. “I'll be back as soon as I can. If you need anything, just call me.” 

You nod, giving him a reassuring smile. “I will, Max. Good luck today. We'll be cheering you on from here.” 

Max leans down to kiss your forehead gently as he mumbles into your skin, “I love you.”  

“I love you too,” you reply, your voice soft and comforting, “be careful out there, okay?” 

Max has one goal throughout qualifying, and to his team principal’s dismay, it is not being on pole. His one and only goal is to get the session done with as quickly as possible and get back to you as soon as he can. After the session ends, he barely waits for the car to come to a stop before jumping out and heading straight for the hospitality suite. His team notices his urgency but knows better than to question it once he tells them he’ll pay whatever fine the FIA will give him for missing his interviews. 

Bursting through the door, Max finds you resting comfortably on the couch, a cup of tea in your hands. The sight of you immediately calms his racing heart. “Hey,” he says softly, walking over to sit beside you. “How are you feeling?” 

You smile up at him, still in his team gear and the hat he almost never takes off, the warmth in your eyes easing his worries. “Better, now that you're here. How did it go?” 

“Starting on pole,” he replies, mostly in a mumble, taking your hand in his. “But all I could think about was getting back to both of you.” 

You squeeze his hand, your expression tender. “I'm proud of you, Max. You did great.” 

He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “Thanks. Let's just relax for the rest of the day, hm? I want to hold you to make sure you’re not getting out of this bed until tomorrow.” 

“You know, I would be happier about this proposal if it was until different circumstances,” you sigh, earning a laugh from him as he pulls you towards his chest, being careful not to spill your tea, of course. Why? Because it is a safety hazard, of course. 

As you settle back into the bed together, Max feels a sense of relief wash over him. The stress of the day melts away in your presence, and he realizes how much he needs these quiet moments with you to forget all about the outside world and focus his energy on what actually matters instead. 

The next day, feeling much better, you prepare to join Max at the track for the race. He’s still concerned but reassured by your determination to support him. As you arrive at the paddock together, Max is more attentive than ever, keeping an eye out for his father in hopes of trying to prevent the two of you running into each other. Navigating through the bustling paddock, Max keeps a protective arm around your waist, and a hand on your bump whenever the two of you stand somewhere talking to someone, guiding you through the throngs of people. His eyes constantly scan the crowd, his jaw set in a determined line. The other drivers and team members greet you warmly, and you return their smiles, feeling the anticipation that surrounds you. 

“Max, relax a bit,” you whisper, squeezing his hand as you notice the tension in his posture. 

He glances down at you, his expression softening slightly. “I just want to make sure everything’s okay.” 

“I know,” you reply, reaching up to stroke his cheek, “but we’re here to enjoy the race and support you. Try to focus on that.” 

He nods, taking a deep breath as both of you make your way to the Red Bull hospitality area. The team welcomes you with open arms, and you settle into a comfortable spot where you can watch the preparations for the race. He asks one of the interns to keep an eye on you, which he thought he was being sly whilst doing it, but you of course catch him in the corner of your eye. That’s when you realise the man walking towards him, your eyes meeting in nothing short of disdain for each other.  

You stiffen slightly, your hand tightening around Max’s hand as he turns just in time to see his father approaching, his protective instincts kicking into high gear as he lets go of your hand and decides to wrap his arm around you protectively instead. 

“Max,” Jos says, his tone neutral but carrying an underlying condescension. “We need to talk before your race begins, walk with me.” 

Max's grip tightens around you for a moment before he reluctantly loosens his hold. “What is it, Dad?” he asks, his voice steady but tinged with irritation. 

Jos's eyes flicker to you before focusing back on Max. “I wanted to discuss strategy, but I can see this isn't a good time.” 

Max's jaw clenches, his protective instincts on high alert. “If it's important, we can talk here. I’m not leaving her side.”  

Jos sighs, clearly frustrated. “Fine, if that's how you want it.” 

Max’s arm remains firmly around you as his father steps closer. “Make it quick,” Max insists, his tone leaving no room for argument. If other people were to see your eyes moving from one Verstappen to the other, they’d probably think you are watching a tennis match, though the situation in front of you is certainly more tense than that. 

Jos glances at you once more before addressing Max. “I just wanted to remind you to stay focused. Pole position is a great start, but you need to keep your head in the race.” 

Max's eyes narrow, and he lets out a scoff, “I know how to do my job, no need for reminder. Anything else?” 

Jos shakes his head, his expression a mix of disappointment and resignation. “Just don’t let distractions cost you the win.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Max hisses, taking a step towards his father as he gently pushes you behind himself. You have to put a hand against his chest to slow him down, though that doesn’t prove to be a sufficient prevention method. “I already told you; she is my wife, and he is not going anywhere so you better get that into that damaged brain of yours.” 

“Max,” you try to plead with him, “please, not before your race.”  

He gives you a look over his shoulder for a short moment before turning back towards his father. His jaw is set as he looks at the man in front of him. “I’ll only tell you this one more time. When she’s here with me, you don’t show up. If you do show up, you don’t come near her, you don’t talk to her, you don’t even look at her.” Another step taken towards his father has you tightening your hold on him, but he still manages to convey his message. “Try something like this again, and you won’t be in my life anymore let alone my son’s.” 

Jos's lips press into a thin line, his eyes darting to you briefly before settling back on Max. “Fine,” he repeats, his tone colder. “Just remember what’s at stake every time you get behind the wheel.” 

Max stands his ground, his eyes locked onto his father's, unwavering. “I know exactly what's at stake, and I don't need you reminding me. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a race to focus on.” 

Max stands his ground, his eyes locked onto his father's, unwavering. “I know exactly what's at stake, and I don't need you reminding me. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a race to focus on.”

It’s not the first time Max has stood up to his father, not by any means. But you can tell that this time affects him in a different way. The weight of the words exchanged and the implications for their future relationship linger in the air. You can feel the tension radiating from Max as he watches his father walk away, and it takes a moment for him to relax his posture and turn back to you. “Please tell me something that will calm me down so I don’t somehow do something that would put me to jail.”

“Okay,” you singsong, quickly positioning yourself in front of him so that you can fix him with a strict look on your face. “You are not doing something that will put you into prison, period.”

“I’m going to need a very good reason because all I want to do right now is follow him to his car and punch him.” Unfortunately for you, the way his jaw is set is a telling sign that, no, Max would actually do something like this given the circumstances.

“There is no sim racing in prison.” You try to provide, giving him a weak smile.  

Max's lips twitch into a small, reluctant smile at your words, the tension in his jaw easing slightly. “No sim racing in prison, huh? Do you honestly think that would keep me from doing something stupid?” 

“I panicked!” You exclaim, hitting him on his chest lightly as he laughs at you silently. “How are you supposed to help me raise our son,” you point to your stomach to emphasise your point, “if you’re in prison, huh?”

Max's smile grows wider, the tension in his posture finally starting to melt away. “Okay, okay, you’ve got a point,” he says, placing his hands on your shoulders and looking into your eyes. “I need to be here for both of you. But it’s so damn hard to ignore him.” 

You reach up and cup his face in your hands, your eyes soft and filled with understanding. “I know, but you’re stronger than him. And you have more important things to focus on. Like winning this race and getting me more ice cream on our way back to the hotel.” 

He takes a deep breath, nodding slowly as he lets out a soft chuckle. “You’re right. I can’t let him get to me. Not today.” 

“Exactly,” you say, giving him a reassuring smile, “I usually am.” 

Max laughs, the sound lightening the mood even more. “Yes, you usually are,” he agrees, pulling you closer for a brief kiss. “Thank you for always knowing how to calm me down.” 

“That’s what I’m here for,” you say, resting your forehead against his. “Now, go out there and show everyone what you can do. We’ll celebrate with ice cream afterward.” 

“Deal,” he replies, his eyes twinkling with affection and determination. With one last squeeze, he lets you go and turns towards his team, his focus now fully on the race ahead. “But I feel like I need to let you know that I would definitely go to prison for life for you.” 

You laugh, shaking your head. “Don’t you have a race to win, Verstappen?” 

He grins, giving you one last kiss before heading off to prepare for the race, giving you a grin over his shoulder as he starts to move away, “So, I’ll get the rest of that kiss after the race, then?” 

“Yeah, Max,” you let out a breathy laugh, your eyes not leaving his for a moment, “after the race!” 

[lunajay33]

Waiting🖤 Part.2

Summary: After decades of being alone without a love of his own he finally finds her in a gloomy town of forks, his brother Edward isn’t the only lucky one

Pairing: Emmett Cullen x f! Swan reader

Warning: angsty, fluffy sunshine Emmett

Part.1

•Masterlist•

Friday came and I was a nervous wreck, I didn’t care to tell Bella or dad about this seeing as Bella has already distanced herself from me and I didn’t wanna get dads hopes up, sitting in math class, the last class of the day I kept glancing at the clock ticking closer and closer to the final bell, trying to distract myself I delved back into the worksheet infront of me, soon enough the bell rang and my heart jumped

Anxiously I threw everything into my bag and left the school straight to the parking lot, where Emmett was leaned against his silver jeep, when his eyes landed on me that bright smile stretch across his face making his amber eyes shine

“Hey gorgeous you ready for the best night of your life?” I could feel the heat rush to my face only making his smirk widen

“Not like that y/n, not yet anyways, come on hop in” he said as he held the door open for me, quickly getting in the drivers seat next to me

“Sooo um what’re we doing?”

“Thought we could go hiking, maybe get out of the cloud bank into some sunlight”

“I love hiking! Sounds like fun” finally relaxing knowing now it’s something I’m use to doing

He drove for a while out of forks to a near by hiking trail not commonly used by the public, we got out and started our journey

“So tell me a bit about yourself Angel” he said breaking the silence

“Well there’s not much to know, I’ve lived here my whole life, my sister and mom left when I was young so it’s just been me and my dad, I became homeschooled until now and I usually just read and do homework”

“Not a big social butterfly I assume?”

“Not really, what about you? Tell me everything!”

“Well I have 4 adopted siblings, Jasper, Alice, Rosalie and Edward, you’ll love Alice she’s the sweetest, I like getting out into the forest, love music and working out”

“Yeah I can tell” I smiled glancing at his bulging muscles under his long sleeve shirt

“Woah she’s got some fire in her after all” he laughed nudging my arm

“What can I say you bring it out of me” his hand grazed against mine until he went for it and intertwined his fingers through mine

“Why so nervous pretty girl? Do I fluster you?”

“Maybe, I’ve never really done stuff like this but it’s nice” I saw his features soften as he looked down at me and gently squeezed my hand

“Really? A beautiful thing like yourself, I’m surprised you don’t have boys on their knees begging for your attention”

“I think you have me mixed up with my sister” I laughed nervously

“And who might that be because I don’t even need to see her to know your beauty is beyond anything of this world”

“Emmett stop you’re just trying to make me blush, and my sister is Bella, Bella swan she’s new to the school” he stopped dead in his tracks with a shocked expression

“Bella is your sister, like your actual sister?”

“So you already know her, not a surprise”

“No it’s not that, my brother Edward has been after her since she came at the start of the week, kind of funny how two brothers can like two sisters, but I must say I got the more beautiful”

“You’re too sweet Em, I can’t believe she hasn’t said anything”

“Edward is a very awkward secretive guy I’m sure Bella is the same way maybe that’s why she hasn’t said anything”

“Can’t say you’re wrong”

He looked me up and down trying to judge something, curious

“Do you trust me?”

“I only just meet you but yeah, I do”

In an instant he flung me over his back so I was clung to him like a monkey

“Hold on tight sunshine” everything flew by in a blur, there was no shape to anything with the speed he was going, but however he was doing this it didn’t scare me or make me wonder what the hell was happening, I actually felt at peace

Soon enough he stopped as we cleared the cloud bank and the sun was beaming, he placed me gently back down on my feet and turned around, his skin was like a million tiny crystals, I was in awe by how much more beautiful he became

“Are you scared?” He asked as his face scrunch with worry

I raised my hand and traced down his cheek feeling his hard cold skin

“No quite the opposite, you’re beautiful Emmett”

“Don’t you wanna know what I am?” He asked placing his hands on my hips

“Whatever you are I’d never judge, I feel you’d never hurt me so I don’t care what you are”

“How did I get so lucky” he stated as he lifted me like I weighed a feather, wrapping my legs around his waist

“What do you mean?”

“Us vampires have mates and the moment you bumped into me in the hallways I knew you were mine, the one I’m meant to spend the rest of my life with”

“But why me, you could have anybody”

“You’re everything I’ll ever need, I wish you could see yourself the way I see you Angel, and I’ll spend the rest of eternity showing you how amazing you are”

My heart swelled with the most love I’ve ever felt and I’m lucky enough to finally find the one who will brighten my life

Taglist: @whit0912 @serenadingtigers @twilightlover2007

[blooberrries]

『consequential』 — satoru

— pairing: satoru x afab!reader — wc: 5k — content: mdni, nsfw; vampire au, college/university au, jealous/possessive satoru, blood drinking, vampire bites (chest, neck and arm), alcohol, mutual pining (a distant relative of idiots to lovers), piv sex, love bites (heh literally), standing/sex against the wall (he holds you up the entire time because he's actually insane), unprotected sex, creampie, cockwarming,he's a bit of a simp really idk if that was planned — notes: got possessed by the Horny Spirit, also not proofread. enjoy? also be gentle with me I haven't written smut in over a year

prompt: ["Oh, don't be cute."] + [“you’re all mine” - “hm…” - “say it” - “i’m all yours”]

While slightly spiteful, your plan had been simple and had about a 50/50 chance of succeeding, with minimal loss to you if it didn’t.

Two weeks ago Gojo Satoru had— after months of asking for it and being denied by you— finally gotten your permission to drink your blood. So he’d gone ahead and bitten you, you’d loved it and probably fell even more annoyingly head over heels for him as a result of the oddly erotic experience, and the way he had acted during the whole ordeal gave you a decent indication that he most definitely felt the same way you did.

You’d expected things to finally change between you after that, hell you’d actually been excited for it.

But instead of leaning into the shift in the dynamic between you, Satoru had instead decided to pretend you didn’t exist and proceeded to completely avoid you for the last two weeks.

(Which is actually quite the feat considering how much overlap there is between your friend groups. But you’re not impressed. You’re mad.)

To say you were upset would be an understatement. Your pride was wounded along with your ego, and you felt foolish and embarrassed and stupidly angsty. The unfortunate reality is that you’re not very good at processing those feelings, so in your time of need you turned to your most faithful, long-time friend: spite.

You know for a fact that Satoru likes the way you smell and taste– it’s one of the many things he’d let slip when sucking the blood ever so gently from the puncture he’d made in the soft flesh of your inner forearm. So you decided to wait until the prime part of your cycle, where the supernatural consensus said humans smelt their best, and you’d procured a tincture from your witch-in-training friend that would accentuate the natural appeal of your blood for certain creatures of the night (she’d assured you it was safe, but you have your own means of defending yourself anyway so you aren’t too worried.)

Then, you’d waltzed your way into a party that was being held at his shared accommodation and made it a point to have fun. The real goal of your plan, besides sticking it to him in the most subtle-not-subtle way ever, was also just to feel better about yourself. Your expectations being upended regarding how you’d hoped things would develop with Satoru had been a big blow and would take some TLC from yours truly to recover from.

You’ve had fun so far, you’re only a drink or so in and pleasantly buzzed, and you’re getting a lot of compliments on your perfume. You can’t exactly tell them you’re not wearing anything but eau de spite, but it does feel nice nonetheless. Each comment is like a balm to your poor, chafed ego. The only wrench in the works is that as expected, not long after you arrived, Satoru noticed you.

And then proceeded to continue in his efforts to avoid and ignore you. He’d disappeared into the throng of people on the other side of the house before you could even blink.

It takes a strongly mixed cocktail, courtesy of Shoko who you’re not sure isn’t trying to kill you with the alcohol content of these drinks, for you to settle your fuming. This is stupid— no, he’s stupid. Stupid sexy vampire with his stupid pretty eyes and stupid pretty face. How dare he let you make a fool of yourself by thinking there could be anything more between you! You never should have let him bite you. At least then things would still be the same and you wouldn’t be so torn between throttling him and kissing him.

Angrily, you take a hearty gulp of your drink. Despite the superficial fruity flavour it burns on the way down, unsurprisingly, and you have to breathe slowly through your nose so it doesn’t come back up. You’re no longer uncertain; you’re confident this cocktail is an attempt on your life.

It’s as you’re nursing that drink and leaning angstily against a wall in the corner of the room, that you sense someone approach you. Your eyes take a moment to adjust as you look up, surprise filtering through you once you register the figure by your side.

“Hey.”

Your brows shoot up, a small grin tugging your lips. “Oh? Long time no see, Mei Mei. What cave have you crawled out of to be here tonight?”

The snow-haired woman rolls her eyes, lips twitching. Her tongue darts to swipe over the tip of a pointed canine.

“Oh, you know, every homebody has to come out to play every once in a while.” Her nose twitches, and she leans forward slightly to inhale. Her eyes flutter wide in pleasant surprise. “Well, don’t you smell absolutely divine tonight. Special occasion?”

Kind of, but you’re not about to tell her that. Mei Mei can be a decent enough acquaintance so long as you keep her at arm’s length.

“I’m trying something new,” you answer simply. She hums, and when her body angles towards you again ever so slightly you become aware of the most odd, prickly sensation. It tickles the hairs at the back of your neck, and you fight the peculiar urge to turn and look around. All you’d see is dancing bodies and stumbling drunks, anyway.

“It suits,” Mei Mei purrs with a smile that makes you a little nervous. Music throbs against your body so strongly that for a moment you’re not sure whether the beat you’re feeling in your chest belongs to your heart or the song. “Though you ought to be careful going on campus smelling like that. You’ll lure in every bloodsucker in a five-mile radius.”

You suppose that means the tincture is doing its job. The way her eyes are appraising your pulse points keeps you feeling nervous, though. Perhaps… it wasn’t the best idea to make yourself smell so scrumptious after all. There are more than a few loose canons in the area.

It’s a little too late for regrets now, though. At this point you just gotta double down and own the decision.

“Noted,” you say, taking a hearty sip of your death-in-a-cup. The burn is now a pleasant distraction. You smile at Mei Mei and feel that prickly, hot feeling increase tenfold. What is that?!

The sensation has your heart rate elevating slightly, and it must make the aroma of your blood a little stronger because the vampire before you lets out a soft groan, her eyes fluttering shut. Almost like it’s instinct, she takes a step closer and leans her head towards the crook of your neck. Your startle is almost imperceptible, and you’re thankful that the top you opted for is one that saved the neck exposure for a well-placed boob window instead. The fabric covering half the expanse of your throat is probably the only reason you don’t freak out at her actions.

Her nose brushes your skin, dragging up the column of your throat until it flirts with the bottom of your earlobe. Your heart skips a beat before tumbling into a full gallop. It’s different to how it felt with Satoru— you don’t like this nearly as much. Your legs tense with the urge to leave.

“Really,” she says, purring your name. “You’ve got me feeling quite peckish. Won’t you let me have a little sn–“

A grip winds around your wrist like a vice, not painful but certainly unforgiving. Startled, you look up and see the person of the hour, the vampire you went to all this effort to torment in the hopes he would want you again. Wow, it doesn’t sound great when you think of it like that. The alcohol is certainly not helping your self-esteem right now.

Satoru’s pretty baby-blues are dark, pupils blown wider than you’ve ever seen before, and his entire body is riddled with tension. He almost looks like the slightest pressure would have him snapping in half. His jaw is locked tightly, and he hisses through clenched teeth and descended fangs.

“Come with me. Now.”

You don’t get the chance to bid Mei Mei farewell, not that you really want to, and the last thing you see as you’re dragged out of the room is her waving a manicured hand your way, mouthing a playful ‘goodbye’. She looks far too amused for your comfort.

Right now, Satoru is nothing like the cheeky, carefree, shit-stirring bastard you’ve come to know and love. That isn’t to say you’re completely opposed to it, because the way he looks like know is a pretty big turn-on. But still – the difference is startling. You’re not sure how to navigate the situation.

Before you know it you’ve been unceremoniously relocated to his bedroom, and he is pressing you against the door the second it closes behind you with a heavy, loud THUD.

For a moment, the only sound that fills the space is that of the music beyond the wooden barrier. The bass is no longer indistinguishable with your heart beat – the stuttering rhythm that echoes against your rib cage is all you.

Satoru inhales deeply as though to calm himself down, only to let out a long, low groan immediately after. The sound affects you more than it probably should, heat winding pleasantly up your spine.

“What was that?” He demands, brows snapping together. It takes you a moment to realise that he’s most likely referring to Mei Mei being horny on main just before. His massive frame boxes you in against the door in such a way that you’re almost embarrassed by how much it makes your tummy flutter.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you breathe, chin tilted up as you hold his gaze. Something feral flickers through his expression.

“Oh, don’t be cute.” The words snap into the air, causing your breath to hitch. Satoru’s eyes flick to your forearm, where the slightest bruise still remains from the last time you were in close quarters like this. He swallows, piercing gaze returning to your own.

“I told you.” Satoru’s words leave in a snarl, his fingers firm against the flesh of your hips. His own body is so close to yours that you can feel the heat of it, the tingle of electricity that arcs between you. “That I would be able to smell it if another vampire so much as breathed near you. Did you think I wouldn’t notice you getting chummy with one in my own home?”

You can easily recall him saying that to you almost a fortnight ago, when he had been commenting that he could tell you hadn’t been bitten before thanks to his sharp senses and all that. You didn’t think he was lying. You are surprised that he cares, though. Something like indignation bubbles beneath your lungs, because how dare the bastard spout that shit when he just spent the last two weeks since your ‘encounter’ pretending you didn’t exist.

“Not sure why you give a shit,” you retort, squashing down a whine that begins to rise in your throat when his hips begin to press into yours. “Seemed like you were done with me after you finally got that taste you wanted so bad.”

His brows scrunch together, appearing confused for a second amongst the agitation on his features. You decide to fill the gap in the conversation on his behalf.

“I really was just a Sip ‘n’ Dip to you, huh,” you scoff, letting your head fall back against the door. His eyes snap to the column of your throat, more of which is now exposed. “At least now I know the only thing you want from me is my blood. Really saved me some grief there, Satoru.”

“Excuse me?”

When your eyes slide back to his face, he looks like you’ve physically struck him. His fingers dig into your hips almost out of habit, just shy of being painful. Anger still bubbles beneath your sternum, and you glare at him.

“By the way, as far as I’m aware, biting me once doesn’t give you any exclusive rights to my blood, so where the hell do you get off getting so shitty because someone else took a whiff–“

Satoru snaps.

“I don’t just want your blood,” he snarls, lips curling away from pin-prick sharp fangs. He has the nerve to look insulted. “I want you, you stupidly oblivious pain in my ass. All of you.”

He then leans in, erasing any foreign scents lingering on you and replacing it with something of his own, whatever pheromone bullshit vampires do. You’re too busy trying to stop your heart from having palpitations to focus on it too much because what the fuck did he just say—

“Do you have any idea how close I am to losing myself to a frenzy, like a fucking fledgling?!” His lips brush over the pulse point at your neck, and then teeth, razor-sharp and full of promise, drag over the skin of your clavicle, leaving gooseflesh in their wake. You shiver, flushing with heat and desire. The threat of another bite is already enough to have your body reacting in memory of how the last one felt. You want him, god you want him so, so badly.

“I haven’t fed since then because I can’t get the taste of you out of my head, and I can’t stomach anything else. I can’t stop thinking about the noises you made when I sank my teeth into you, and the scent of absolute desire that filled the entire fucking room the second the venom kicked in for you.” Satoru’s words are punctuated by a prick just below your collarbone, the brief sting eliciting a gasp. Warmth begins to trickle thinly from the site and is quickly staunched by a press of his tongue, and he moans. You’re so painfully aroused that it nearly makes you dizzy. He groans, long and suffering. “Just like now.”

He moves lower and lower, hauling you off the floor and completely into his hold so his mouth can reach your chest without stooping. Suddenly in the air, you can’t help the way you yelp and wrap your legs tightly around his hips – which, in turn, presses the heat of your core against the very prominent bulge there. You both echo a groan.

“Coward,” you manage to pant, out of sheer spite if nothing else. “Stupid idiot. I clearly want you. I literally could not have been any more obvious, you’re so –“

His teeth sink into the exposed top of your breast, retracting once they puncture deep enough to get a good flow. Then, he latches firmly onto the flesh, sucking it into his mouth. The act startles a moan out of you, the venom from the initial bite already transmuting the pain into heady pleasure and sending heat through your veins, all while kicking your heart into an even faster beat. Perhaps one of the best perks of the venom is that after that first dose settles in, the only part of the process left for you to feel is pleasure.

Even while you’re unable to help the way your hips roll into his own, and unable to ignore the feral, sinful moans vibrating against your chest as he suckles the wound he made and drinks from you, you manage to continue insulting him.

“You’re so stupid, why the hell did you avoid me for two weeks huh?” A moan breaks up your complaint as he swipes his tongue in broad movements over the bite, his hips snapping into yours and pressing you further into the door. The wood creaks, but neither of you pay it any mind. You can barely function around the incredible sensation of his cock grinding against you through layers of clothing. “All you did was send mixed messages and piss me off and, ngh fuck–“

He pulls back enough that you can see the flush in his face, the feral gleam in his eyes and the smear of blood over swollen lips. His brows are furrowed, but he’s too besotted by the taste of you to have as much heat behind his glare as he did previously.

“There are some things you can’t take back,” he grits out, tongue coming to clean the red from his lips. Your heart stutters, pulse thudding in your ears. “Especially for my kind. If I didn’t stay away, I probably would have ended up doing one of those things.”

Your core positively throbs with need, clenching around nothing. The extent to which you want him right now has you more irritable than usual. “Satoru, I wouldn’t have let you drink from me if I wasn’t interested in everything else it would entail—“

“You don’t understand,” Satoru groans, freeing a hand to rip at the material of your shirt. Clawed fingertips slice through with ease, taking out the bra straps underneath as well. He makes quick work of the band beneath your chest and the underwear is then torn from your form and thrown somewhere in the background. The material of your top remains, and he yanks it down below your aching breasts, watching with rapt attention as they bounce free heavily. Barely allowing you time to moan, he lifts you higher in his arms and dives down to drag his teeth over the swollen globes. He nips and nibbles across the sensitive skin, eliciting all sorts of sounds from you and an unbearable amount of desire that shoots straight between your legs. You can feel slick arousal trickling from your aching cunt with each new miniscule bite Satoru delivers, but honestly at this point you’re too horny to be embarrassed.

“I already want everything you can give me, and more.” He bites the inside of your breast and the flesh gives easily beneath the razor-sharp point of his fangs. One of his hands comes to grip the other side of your chest while he laps and sucks at the blood welling in the wound. Your nipples are painfully hard and you feel like you could cry in relief when his long, nimble fingers begin to deliver them some much-needed attention. “I want every single part of you and I don’t want to share. This is the way I am built. I can’t do this with you again and let you go afterwards. I want you to be mine.”

You probably shouldn’t find that as romantic as you do, but aren’t really in a position to psycho-analyse your response right now. It’s not all that surprising, either, since you recall someone mentioning to you before how strongly vampires bond with their partner when they finally make their choice. As it happens, his confession serves to not only make your heart soar but your pussy throb. You’ve been pining for this man for years, so even amongst the haze of lust clouding your mind you don’t have to think about how to respond to it.

This is, after all, the solution you were hoping for two weeks ago.

“I don’t want you to let me go, or take anything back. Please bite me again, mark me up–” You pause to gasp, Satoru having shoved your skirt up to bunch around your hips. Your panties are gone a split-second later, likely discarded in the same manner as your bra, and the hand that was at your breast is now trailing your slit and gathering all the slick that has pooled there. His middle finger dips in, causing a stutter in your breath. You lean forward to whisper in his ear, snowy strands of hair tickling your cheeks as you do so. “And please, please fuck me, Satoru.”

Something snaps in him, and he doesn’t need to be told twice.

A feral snarl escapes him, a gravelly “fuck” the only warning you get before his teeth sink down just above your nipple, fangs retracting once blood wells to the surface, and he pulls both the wound and your stiffened peak into his mouth, sucking hard. There isn’t a single ounce of pain, only the white-hot pleasure that shoots to your clit and has you keening as a result, hands scrabbling for purchase along his broad shoulders. That free hand that was at your slit has made quick work of his pants and is now guiding his scalding member to slap against your clit, and then press against your entrance while you recover from the shock of pleasure.

You expected him to be well-endowed, and you’re not at all disappointed. Satoru’s cock is fat and long, and with one roll of his hips it spears right into you. There is no resistance, you’re far too aroused and wet for there to be any, but the feeling of being split open by such a monster quite literally knocks the breath out of you. You hardly recognise the noise that escapes you as one of your own, hands gripping the vampire’s hair and shoulder so tightly you’d be worried about hurting him if he was human. He isn’t, though, and without even noticing your grip continues drinking from you while latched to your breast, tongue pressing and rolling your aching nipple all the while.

A second is all you get to adjust to the foreign length inside you before Satoru rolls his hips back with a moan, the fat head of his cock dragging against your walls as he does so, and then slams it back in. He builds a rhythm immediately that is almost animalistic in its desperation and fervour, each thrust firm and hitting so deep inside that you honest to god think it has you seeing stars. Whines and moans tumble from your mouth, no longer able to be held back when the only thing your brain can comprehend is the sheer pleasure and ecstasy that burns and sparks along your limbs. He begins to hit a certain spot when he fucks up into your heat that has you clenching around him, slick gushing forth.

“FUCK.” He rips away from your chest to tilt his head back in a rough, stilted moan, his hands gripping and digging into the meat of your thighs where they melt into your ass. In the absence of his mouth, blood begins to dribble down the swell of your breast. His crystalline eyes are hazy and blown out in lust, brows drawn together and expression twisted in pleasure, his breath coming in pants. He is visibly barely holding it together, completely drunk on the taste and feel of you– and it simultaneously is the hottest and sweetest thing you’ve ever seen. “Yes, fuck, squeeze me just like that.”

You oblige, relishing in the full-body shiver that tears through him in response. He bites your name out amidst a tortured groan, hands shifting to your hips. His mouth returns to clean up the mess he left on your breast, lips latching around your nipple to suck and pull once more, and it’s almost enough to distract you from the way he suddenly begins to lift you by the hips and drop you back down on his cock in time with his thrusts. Almost. You have to bite back a scream at how fucking good it feels, the pressure and pace and just how full you feel. You can feel yourself rapidly beginning to come undone.

With the combination of his venom’s aphrodisiac effects and the sheer amount of time you’ve spent longing for this, you don’t imagine you’re going to last much longer. If the unforgiving pace of Satoru’s hips is anything to go by, you estimate the same to be the case for him.

He groans into your chest, releasing your breast to bounce in time with his thrusts, the action accompanied by an almost audible pop, and shifts his hold to free a hand. The pressure of two fingers against your clit has you crying out, body jerking at the sudden rush of pleasure – your head whips down to find him already looking at you, gaze swinging from the juncture of your thighs to your eyes. Evidently pleased by the expression he finds on your face, he continues his circling of your clit and leans his head down to trail kisses from your already-healing chest, up the column of your throat, across the line of your jaw, until he finally arrives at your lips.

“Mine,” he murmurs, lips brushing yours in a feather-light caress. His baby-blue eyes are lidded heavily and almost dazed, coherent thought lost to the throes of pleasure and his most simple instincts. He nicks your lip at the same time as he angles a particularly wonderful thrust, the head of his cock hitting against that spot that makes you see stars and release a loud, wanton cry. “You’re all mine.”

You pull back to nod rapidly, unable to form words when all you can think – all you can feel – is the throbbing pleasure of his cock splitting you open with each heavy thrust. His head follows, lips seeking your own once more. The kiss is hot, and needy, and his oversized canines scrape your bottom lip more than once, and yet all you can do is return the fervour in between moans and whines. His hand is still at work between your legs, and you feel in your bones that you’re really not going to last much longer at this rate.

Satoru releases your mouth with a final nip, and moves his head to nestle it in the juncture of your neck and shoulder. He groans, low and long, and the vibration turns to a shiver as it travels over your skin. His lips begin to move.

“Say it.”

You struggle to think let alone figure out what he wants, lost in the current of your rapidly approaching orgasm. His fingers pick up speed, aided by the generous amount of arousal still gushing from your pussy in between thrusts. It takes everything you have not to scream, your hips bucking.

“Say it,” he says again, an oddly uncertain note infiltrating his rumbling gasp. He utters your name while nosing at your throat and you feel yourself melt. “Please, say it.”

Realisation as to what he is looking for hits you at the same time as your orgasm. “Fuck! I’m– I’m yours, all yours! God, fuck—“

Satoru’s pace stutters, undone by your pussy clenching and throbbing around him in a fight to keep him inside, and it takes him a moment to recover before he begins to fuck into you again in earnest, movements growing sloppy and frantic but no less punishing. It all serves to prolong the wave of absolute bliss you’re riding in the wake of what has to be the strongest orgasm of your life. Those vampiric toxins are no joke.

You wind your arms around his neck, clutching him close and trying not to lose your mind as he fucks up into you, the drag of his cock against your walls somehow even more delicious than before. He mouths at your neck, hips beginning to stutter once more. You clench around him, and he breaks. There is barely enough time for a curse to escape his mouth before its clamping on your neck, teeth digging in deep— deeper than he’s ever bitten you before— and tingling heat spreading out from the puncture sites. He gives one, two, three final, dragging thrusts, body trembling and muscles taut, before his cock throbs and he buries it inside you, spilling into you with a deep, rumbling groan against your throat.

Soft, panting moans escape you as his hips continue to roll into you softly, riding out his orgasm, and you bite back a wanton groan as you feel his cum beginning to trickle out around his softening member. As soon as he comes back to his senses to a degree, he has the presence of mind to navigate the two of you to the bed before he loses strength in his legs, his mouth slipping from your neck after he laves his tongue over the wound to seal it. Unceremoniously, he drops the two of you against the mattress, but surprisingly keeps you snugly in his hold and his length still buried inside you. Ignoring how hot that is, you decide to view the action from a purely romantic light and nearly melt into the mattress.

Vaguely, you register the thumping club beats still booming beyond the confines of the room. Evidently the party was still ongoing.

“This wasn’t how I planned for today to go,” he admits, after a few beats of contented silence. He nuzzles his face to your chest, dragging his nose across your collarbone. “I was going to talk to you tomorrow morning.”

You snort; that’s likely.

“… This is how I planned for today to go, though.”

He huffs a laugh before pressing his lips together, clearly trying not to enable you further. He allows for another few moments to pass, and in that time you let your own eyes flutter closed.

“You can’t change your mind, by the way,” he says suddenly, tone odd. You open your eyes and turn to see his crystalline gaze directed to your neck, where the latest of his bite marks sits proudly. “I may have done one of those things I can’t take back.”

You’re not sure how to tell him it’s not as bad of a thing as he thinks it to be.

likes and reblogs are appreciated <3 lmk what you think!

[seresinhangmanjake]

Ain't What It Is

Benny Cross x reader

Summary: You think you know your boyfriend better than anyone, but when Benny thinks you've cheated, you see a whole new side of him.

Notes/Warnings: angsty-ish, but fluff too. Cursing. Throwing things. Angry Benny. Drinking. Typos.

Words: 1800

Benny Cross Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag List

He’s home. And as thrilled as you are to see his bike parked in front of the house before midnight on a weekday, you’re just as confused. Excluding weekends, when riding during the day frees up Benny’s nights to give to you, it’s a rarity to see him between the dark hours of eight and three; a pattern so consistent that it’s almost silly to expect anything different.

You knew that when you met Benny. You knew exactly what you were getting into, and because of that, you don’t fault him for staying out late. Riding is important to Benny, it makes up a chunk of his soul, and because the other guys in the club—with their families and day jobs and grown-up responsibilities—can typically only meet after their kids are passed out from a bedtime story and their wives have finished screaming at them for daring to leave the house at such an ungodly hour, you let him be free to enjoy time with the club when he can. 

If that time is given to you instead, you’re happy to have him for an entire night. However, now, as you enter through the front door, it’s not what you expected. The house is a pit of darkness; could be abandoned if you didn’t know the space you were stepping into. 

“Benny?” you call, flicking on the nearest light. You toss your handbag onto the entryway table and make your way to the kitchen to check the fridge. If he’s already asleep, you hope he at least got to the leftovers you put away for him that he usually scarfs down before he comes to bed. 

Turning the corner, you gasp, nearly jumping out of your skin at the shadowed figure sitting at the breakfast table. Your hand flies to your thumping heart. 

“Jesus, honey, you scared me,” you breathe out. “Why are you sitting in the dark?”

A ray of moonlight streams through the window, surrounding your boyfriend and emphasizing his silhouette. He leans back in the chair and brings a bottle to his lips. 

“Have you been drinking? How much? God, please tell me you didn’t ride the bike drunk,” you say. He doesn’t answer. 

You sigh and move across the room with the intent to pull the silver chain of the small lamp on your counter—it’s a soft glow that won’t assault his eyes or yours after lingering in pitch black—but a strong hand wraps around your wrist as you pass by. 

“Benny, wha–”

Your eyes adjust. You can finally make out his features as he looks up at you, and they’re as dark as the space you occupy. “You messin' around on me?” he asks. 

If your eyebrows could lift above your forehead they would. If your jaw could unhinge itself, it’d be on the floor. “What?”

Benny shoots up, chair skidding back on the tile with an awful scraping sound. “Are you fuckin’ someone?” he spits out, leaning into you.

“What do you mean? I’m–”

He drops your wrist and groans, twisting on his heel and running his hand through already messy hair before turning back to you. And you don’t understand, because this, right here, is not your boyfriend. This is not how he acts. Rageful? Yes. One edge? Slightly inebriated? Yes and yes. But accusatory? Hot-tempered with you? Not for a single moment in the course of your time together. 

“It’s that prick your ma’s tryin’ to set you up with, isn’t it!” he shouts. “I don’t get why she thinks he’s better than me!”

And then suddenly you know. You catch the anger trying to disguise the twinge of pain in his voice. Pain that is stemming from one thing and one thing only—your Mama’s bullshit. 

She’s sly, that woman, and when you and Benny went to her house last week for dinner because you were exhausted of her complaints that she never sees you, who did you find in the seat assigned next to yours but her best friend’s son; a marking director in the city who makes an unnecessary amount of money and who expressed interest in you. 

She knew you were bringing Benny. She knew because she requested that you bring Benny. You had plans to spare him the agony of an evening with the woman who hates him for his upbringing and unpredictable lifestyle, but when she asked for him, a glimmer of hope sparked. Maybe she was finally letting it go, turning over a new leaf by allowing your relationship to be your and Benny’s business and no one else’s. But you were so wrong. 

An hour and a half of verbal jabs at your boyfriend were evened out by the plethora of compliments she had for her top pick as son-in-law. Benny was a trooper for your sake, but once the words ‘you two would make beautiful babies’ left her wrinkling lips, it was obvious the twig of his restraint was about to snap. And frankly, so was yours.

You took Benny by the hand, stormed out of your childhood home to ride back to your real home, and let Benny claim you however he wanted for the remainder of the night while you praised and soothed and reassured him of your feelings. And you thought those actions and words were enough for Benny to understand where your heart lies, but you’d be lying if you said he hasn’t seemed different over the last seven days.

You release a slow breath, “Honey…”

“So he wears a fuckin’ tie! So what!” His arm whips out and the bottle smashes against the wall, shards sprinkling the floor. 

“Benny!”

“What!”

“Calm down!”

In two large steps, his body is looming over yours, your upper arms suddenly wrapped in his large hands, squeezing but not enough to hurt. “I know he ain’t like me, but that don't make him better for ya,” he says. “‘Sides, he can’t love ya like I do, so what do ya want him for?”

And that is the last straw because now you’re insulted. You shimmy your body out of his grasp and he glances down at his empty hands with wide eyes, brows knitted, lips parted as if you had simply vanished.

“I am not messing around!” you snap. 

“Then where the fuck ya been tonight?” he demands. “Huh? Ya weren’t here. You’re always here. You’ve never not been here at this time’a night, so what am I supposed to be thinkin’?”

Your arms cross over your chest. Your jaw clenches. Your eyes burn. “Sit down.”

“Baby, you tell me right no–”

“Sit down, Benny!” 

His head jerks back at the harshness you rarely exhibit, and though he briefly hesitates, he eventually complies, because you won’t use that tone unless he crosses a line and he knows it, and when you do have to use that tone because he has crossed a line, he knows he loses the things he likes. Sex; your homemade blueberry pie; your willingness to ride with him and go to picnics and bonfires with the club—all of it, for however long you decide. Benny doesn’t like to beg, but in those times, you can take him to his knees. 

“Do you know how many nights I spend not knowing exactly where you are or when you’re going to be home?” you ask, bending at the waist until you’re at his eye level. “I knew going into this relationship that that's how things were going to be and I wanted you anyway. I understood how important it is for you to maintain your riding with the club, and I’ve always been happy that you have that. But you don’t know where I am once and suddenly I’m cheating on you?”

You straighten your spine and shake your head. “My cousin called. Needed me to watch her kid. I rang the bar but Joe said you guys were out riding.”

Benny’s huffs. His hand runs down his face, then in one final snippy effort, he says, “Well, you could’a left a note.”

Scoffing, you go over to the fridge and point to the piece of paper that in bright red lettering states: ‘Watching Teddy. I’ll be home late. Love you,” followed by your name and a little heart. 

“Try again,” you say. 

With that, he seems to sober up, both in his inebriation and attitude. As he should. It’s embarrassing to miss the note written in massive letters in an obnoxious color stuck to the fridge where you always leave notes for one another. In fact, you’re embarrassed for him, and you would tell him so were it not for the kicked-puppy look on his face that drains the irritation from yours. 

“You love me,” you say.

Benny sighs. “I know.”

“And you can't trust me?”

He leans forward in his seat, elbows perching on knees and hands scrubbing his face as if it might erase the shame of his accusations. “I do, baby, I just…

You return to his side, and planting your hands on his shoulders, you push him back in the chair to take a seat on his lap. Your arms wrap around his neck. 

“My mama doesn’t know what’s good for me if she thinks you're not it, but you can’t be treating me like this,” you tell him. “It's not fair. I don’t sit at home thinking you’re messing around on me.”

Benny’s eyes connect to yours as his hand curls at your waist. “I wouldn’t.”

“I know that,” you say. Your palm cups his scruffy cheek. “And you should know I wouldn’t either, so what happened? It’s not like you to be acting like this.”

He takes a second to collect his thoughts, then replies, “I was ridin’ and I missed you so I cut it short, but when I got home I couldn’t find you. And then I started thinkin’ and…” He shakes his head. “Baby, your ma's said shit before but she never shoved another guy in my face. I don’t give a fuck if she hates me, but– ”

“Benny, honey, there’s no way,” you swear to him, running your thumb over the sharp line of his cheekbone. “I mean, he wears a fucking tie.”

Benny’s lips part, eyes flicking back and forth between yours, before he softly chuckles in relief. His head falls forward, forehead resting on your collarbone. Your skin takes the heat of his heavy breaths, and then you feel the press of his lips. They make a gentle trail from your chest, up your neck, over your chin, before planting firmly on your mouth. 

“You're mine. You’re it,” you say when the kiss breaks. “No other man but you, Benny Cross.”

[gay-dorito-dust]

Are your requests open? If not feel free to ignore this. If so you can also still ignore this but I wanted to ask, could you write how the batboys/batfam would react to a vigilante reader who left Gotham but came back a year or so later?

I don't know if you listen to Noah Kahan but maybe something along the lines of the song “Your Gonna Go Far”? It's just a good song that makes me think of them for some reason IDK 😂

Damian’s was a little angsty but eh. I held this ask off for long enough.

Dick would tease that the reason you came back was because you missed him too much, when in actuality it was more or less the opposite, he missed his fighting crime alongside his vigilante buddy.

‘Fuck off.’ You’d scoff and go to playfully push him, only for him to take it a step further and willingly fall from the rooftop you were hanging out on, and you immediately stood up. ‘Dick?’ You’d call as you peered over the ledge for him. ‘This isn’t funny!’ You shouted in attempt to hide the fact that you were incredibly fearful of the state you’d find him in.

However Dick reappears doing a handstand with a shit eating grin on his face as he used his hands to move towards you, much to your chagrin.

‘I’ll leave again.’ You threatened, crossing your arms over your chest.

‘No you won’t.’ Dick grunts as he got to his feet, still smiling as he got stepped close to you. ‘If you were hellbent on leaving Gotham forever then you wouldn’t have dared tempt the idea of coming back.’

As much as you hated to admit it but he was right, you wouldn’t leave again and even if you did originally want out of Gotham, there was too much work that had to be done here then anywhere else. You were more pretty much done with the whole leaving thing as that didn’t necessarily work out, considering just how fast you abandoned your original plan just to came back to Gotham.

‘I hate it when you’re right.’ You murmured under your breath as Dick chuckles, happy to have you back home, back to him and picking up where you both left off as though nothing had ever happened.

‘So that being all the time, right?’ He asks as he slings an arm over your shoulder, pulling you into his side as you made a face. ‘You’d fucking like for that was the case don’t you.’ You scoffed as you looked at him, one to see him looking back at you with a soft look in his eyes, which was something new even for you seeing as yours and Dick’s relationship consisted of witty back and forth and making lightheartedly fun out of each other.

‘Only if you stay long enough to admit it.’ He says without an ounce of his usual teasing as a silence befell you both as you stared at one another, wondering where life was going to take you now you were back in Gotham.

Jason

‘I was rooting for you to stay away.’ He said upon seeing you kick one of Penguin’s goons in the head.

You shrugged. ‘Hate to disappoint but the grass wasn’t greener on the other side.’ You told him, kicking the goon’s switchblade over the rooftop and into the streets below when noticing his hand itching towards it.

‘It must’ve been at least somewhat greener considering how long you stayed there before coming home.’ Jason sassed, joining in by kicking the goon in the ribs for good measure and you groaned. ‘Don’t tell me you’re still pissed at me for leaving are you?’

Jason scoffs. ‘Noooo, why would I be possibly mad at the fact that you had done it. You managed to escape Gotham and instead of staying out of Gotham and building yourself a future where coming back wasn’t an option, you came back?! Why?! What made you think that was a smart idea?!’ He exclaims and you dropped low to perform a sweeping kick to his feet -taking advantage of his irritation- knocking him flat on his back, grabbing the lapels of his brown jacket.

‘For you DUMBASS! I came back to Gotham for you! I wasn’t about to let you rot in this shit hole without at least knowing someone gave a shit about you! Is that such a fucking hard concept to grasp?!’ You yelled at him but just before you let go of his jacket, Jason was quick to catch your wrists in one of his hands and managed to pin you to the floor as he hovered over you. ‘I don’t believe I ever once asked you to do anything for me, other than staying out of Gotham once you found an outing for yourself.’ He said in a low voice.

‘You didn’t need to.’ You told him, easily envisioning the look of frustration Jason must have on his face under the red helmet. ‘That’s was all my own doing and I don’t regret any of it.’ You grunted. ‘Not even a little. I couldn’t afford to build a future out there because there was no future for me to build when I knew I had a better chance of doing that here with you than anywhere else.’

Jason sighed, ‘you’re insufferable.’ He huffed before letting you of your wrists and standing up to his feet as he holds a hand out to you to take.

‘And you’re still a dickhead.’ You retorted smiling as you eagerly grabbed his hand, allowing him to pull you up to your feet before bringing you into his arms, holding you tightly where you melted into his body warmth.

‘Your dickhead you mean.’ He murmurs against your head.

‘yeah, my dickhead.’ You smile, knowing that evening was going to be okay from here on out.

Damian

‘I thought you skipped town.’ Damian said as he sheathed his sword.

‘You don’t sound surprised to see me.’ You replied, putting away your twin batons on your back.

Damian shrugs before looking over at you. ‘Why should I be surprised, I did say on the day you left that you’d come back home sooner or later.’ He reminds you as you both over looked the city you both once swore to protect. ‘No one leaves Gotham for long, this city has a way of pulling people back in whether they liked it or not.’

You clenched your fists at your side out of frustration because you knew that he was right, he was always right and you hated it because when you had gotten out of Gotham, it didn’t feel as though you were needed as much to protect the streets. It made you realised that being born and raised in Gotham and learning go hone the skills required to survive had became a vital part of you, a part of you that you couldn’t escape no matter has far away you go from the vile city and make a name for yourself elsewhere.

It ended up not working out and soon you found yourself going back to the place you swore you’d never go back to.

‘You didn’t miss me? Not once?’ You asked all of a sudden.

‘No. You were barely on my mind as I was busy clearing the streets you left behind.’ Damian said but even you could tell that he was lying to himself somewhat.

‘Are you sure I didn’t come to mind? Not even when you’re standing in the locations we regularly rendezvous for missions?’ You asked again.

Damian remains silent this time. Of course he missed you, there wasn’t a day that went by where he didn’t resent you for leaving Gotham, for leaving him behind when you both swore to keep Gotham safe together. Admittedly he hated you for a brief time after you left, he tried to burn every memory he had of you to prove that his hatred and resentment towards you was true, and not as an act of heartbreak and abandonment.

However Damian found himself unable to keep that facade up after three month anniversary of your departure, where found himself on the very rooftop he was now, and ironically it was the very same rooftop where you told him you were leaving Gotham indefinitely; looking up to the stars and wishing for your health and well-being whether you were.

‘No.’ Damian snipped, leaving you in a very similar to the way you had left him long ago, alone and conflicted with emotions.

[cowboybeepboop]

Sweet Surrender

Pairing: Scott Miller x fem! Reader

Genre: Romantic smut, kind of angsty at some parts idk

Word count: 6k

Summary: You're apart of storm par and just so happen to get on the nerves of Scott, which truly isn’t that difficult of a task. But as much as you get on his nerves, he gets on yours. One day he takes things a little too far which leads to an interesting encounter.

a/n: I’m gonna be so fr and say that I’m not so sure how to portray Scotts personality but I do like the idea of taming the grumpy character with a sunshine character. I’m currently working on a couple different Scott ideas. Also if you have any request just let me know. Hope you enjoy!

You’re Javi’s childhood best friend, following him all the way from Miami to Oklahoma. The warning everyone gave you was to not follow a man rather than your dreams, but they just didn’t get it, he’s not a man. He’s your best friend and you were always going to follow him because it just wouldn’t feel right without him.

The one thing that made you want to run in the opposite direction was Scott. You don’t know how they ended up as friends in the first place and you hated the way he treated people.

You always make sure to take Javi to clean up towns, even though Scott is against it. You help Javi find which storm to follow (call it natural instinct or an early childhood fascination with storm chasing), even though Scott always pushes to go in the opposite direction.

The list can go on and on but the point being that Scott gets on your nerves. You’ve always been an absolute angel to him, well as much as humanly possible, you pride yourself on being kind. It doesn’t cost a thing to be kind, well, at least that’s your motto in life.

Being on the road with Javi (and Scott) has proven to be more than difficult, the highlight being when you get to meet up with Tyler Owens and his crew. He has quite the southern charm and they’re all pretty nice once they get over the whole storm par thing.

It’s around noon when you finally stop at the gas station, you hop out of the vehicle with a bounce in your step as you’re finally able to stretch your legs. The rest of the team pulls in parking around Javi’s truck. Scott steps out of his van and Javi calls him over, you silently curse him under your breath, preparing a smile for the unfortunately cold man.

Scott approached the group as you muttered under your breath, a slight smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he heard your subtle discontent.

“Hey man, we’re gonna get some snacks and take a restroom break, then hit the road again.” Javi says as Scott nods along, his gaze flickering to you, meeting your forced smile with a look of indifference.

"Sounds fair," Scott replied, his voice lacking enthusiasm. “But are we just stopping so princess over here can get her snacks?” he says with coldness in his voice. You cross your arms over your chest.

“No,” you try to keep your usual smile, “Javi is hungry too, right?” You turn to him, nudging his shoulder.

Javi glanced over to Scott then to you, he returned your smile with a soft grin, silently enjoying how Scott's jaw slightly clenched. Javi nodded in agreement, standing by your side. "Yeah, definitely could use some fuel. And snacks." he said.

Scott rolled his eyes, his arms crossing against his chest. "Whatever. I could use a break too, I guess." he muttered. Just as Scott finishes his sentence you all hear the blasting of Tyler’s music as he pulls into the parking lot.

Your smile brightens as you turn to the noise, “Tylers here!” You say to Javi “I’m gonna go say hi, then we can meet up inside.” Your tone is cheerful as you bound off toward Owens, your skirt and hair moving in sync.

Scott's gaze followed you as you walk off towards Tyler, a small scowl on his face as your skirt swirled around you. Javi chuckled, shaking his head while watching Scott.

"Someone's happy to see Tyler," Javi teased, noticing the slight frown on Scott's face.

Scott rolled his eyes, "Yeah, sure. She's just too cheerful for her own good."

Javi smirked, "Jealous, Scott?" he said with a hint of mockery in his voice. They both watch as you smile up at Tyler, your arm finding its way into his as he walks toward the door of the shop.

Scott's eyes narrow, a pang of jealousy coursing through him as you linked arms with Tyler. He clenched his jaw, trying to maintain his cool demeanor, and turned to Javi.

"Well that didn't take long. Didn't expect her to cling onto him so quickly." he said, a hint of bitterness in his voice. Javi just responds with a roll of his eyes, knowing that’s just how you are with someone you’re comfortable with.

”Bye Ty,” you wave to him, finding your way back in front of both Scott and your best friend. “Javi, look at what Tyler bought me.” You smile as you show your snacks to him. Javi chuckled, amused by your childlike excitement as you showed off your stash. He was used to your enthusiasm, and it was something he secretly found endearing.

Javi chuckled, admiring your collection. "Looks like you had a successful shopping spree."

Scott interjects, his tone dry. "That's one way to put it. Or, she's just freeloading off him." he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes at your animated display.

“No,” you seethe, your demeanor changing for a second before you reel it back in.”I bought him some water bottles for his team to hand out, that’s what we were talking about earlier.” You smile at Javi, ignoring Scott as you start walking back to the truck.

As you turn away, Scott rolled his eyes, letting out a scoff as he followed behind you. Javi glanced between the two of you, sensing the tension, and silently followed behind.

Scott leaned against his van, his arms crossed as he muttered under his breath. "Sure, water bottles. Definitely not just flirting with the ‘tornado wrangler’." You shoot him a tense look.

“First, I wouldn’t have to buy him anything if I was trying to flirt,” You cross your arms under your breasts. “Second, I’m not flirting with him, he’s just a sweetheart.” Scott smirked at your response, his gaze flickering down to your chest before meeting your eyes.

His arms stayed crossed, a cocky grin forming on his face. "A sweetheart, huh?" His tone was dripping with sarcastic mockery. "Of course, that's why you're buying him water bottles. Just being a sweetie."

Javi silently watched the exchange, his eyes flickering between you both, feeling the tension thicken in the air. You take a deep breath to steady yourself, “Well, I do enjoy the company of someone who’s kind and a sweetheart, especially over a jerk like yourself.” With that you get in the passenger seat of Javi’s truck, slamming the door loudly.

Scott's smirk widened into a smug grin as you slammed the truck door, enjoying how you reacted to his taunt. He leaned against his van, clearly amused, and let out a soft chuckle.

Javi shot Scott a glare before quickly climbing into the driver's seat next to you. He looked at you with concern and then looked back at his friend. "Way to go Scott," he muttered sarcastically Scott responds with a shrug.

“He’s a real dick,” you say to Javi as you pull out the coke Tyler bought you.

“Yeah, I know. But you’ve gotta stop letting him rile you up like that.” He responds, his hand patting your shoulder as he starts the car.

Once the excitement of the chase was over and the tornado died out, you brought the team to the small town to help clean up. You stayed back with Tyler's team to help them get necessities to the people.

Scott watched as you worked alongside Tyler's team, his arms folded across his chest, and leaned against Javi's truck. He had his usual scowl on his face, clearly displeased with the situation.

"Can't believe she's sticking with them," he muttered, his eyes flickering towards you from time to time.

Javi glanced at Scott, then back at you, his expression neutral. "She's just helping out, Scott. They need the help." Tyler's hand goes to your back as he whispers into your ear, telling you to go get some rest after the rough day.

Scott's gaze immediately goes to Tyler's hand as it lingered on your back, his jaw clenching tightly. You nod, saying goodbye to the whole team, grabbing your water bottle as you head over to Javi.

Scott stays silent as you approach them, his eyes darting between you and Tyler whose gaze remained on you. Your bright smile being replaced with a half one as you get them. “Javi, Scott, how’s everything going?”

Javi glances at Scott before answering, noticing the tension between you two. "We're almost done here. Just cleaning up the rest of the town," he said. Your eyes fall to the damage around you as you pick at your fingernails anxiously.

Scott remained quiet for a moment before speaking, his tone cold and sarcastic. "And you're leaving already? Thought you'd have stayed the night with the ‘tornado wrangler’."

Your eyes narrow as your sweetness finally dropped. “Scott what the fuck is your problem,” your eyes brim with tears, you’re just exhausted from the day and all his antics, “you’ve seen all of this damage and you’re still as cruel as ever.” You bite out bitterly.

Scott's gaze darkened at your emotional response, his arms still folded across his chest. He seemed unfazed by your anger, a look of indifference on his face. "My problem?" he retorted coldly. "Maybe my problem is that you're too caught up in helping those storm chasers, instead of sticking with us."

Javi stepped forward, his voice calm but firm, "Scott, don't-”

Scott cut him off, his attention now fully on you. "I'm just being honest. Stop fawning over Tyler and remember who your real team is here." Your tears fall from your eyes as you step back from him.

“Fuck you, asshole.” Your body trembles as tears stream down your face, Javi pulling you into his chest rubbing your back intimately.

Scott's expression softened slightly at the sight of your tears, his gaze flickering from you to Javi holding you against his chest. Javi shot Scott a cold glare before turning his full attention to you, his arms wrapping around you protectively.

"Hey, don't let him get to you," Javi whispered, trying to soothe you as his eyes narrowed at Scott. He opens his mouth to speak, but he quickly closed it, realizing that anything he said right now would only worsen the situation.

He was taken aback by your reaction and the way Javi was holding you, regret fills him as he watches you shakily move from Javi. Your hands and voice are shaky as you wipe your tears from your cheeks “I think I’m gonna get a ride back from Ty..” your voice trails off.

Javi calls out to you, his voice stern but concerned. “Hey, wait-”

Scott interrupts, his tone softer than before. “Y/N, hold on-”

But you ignore their calls, your steps becoming brisk as you make your way to Tyler’s truck, your arms wrapped around yourself, seeking comfort.

Javi looks at Scott, his eyes filled with disappointment, a disapproving scowl on his face. “Scott, you have a funny way of showing how much you like her.” Tyler pulls you into a comforting hug, his arms around your neck as you hold his waist. Your tears soaking his white shirt as you try to explain that you’re just crying because you’re exhausted.

“You’re just sending her off into the arms of another man, whose intentions might not be so pure.” Javi’s voice is harsh as he watches the interaction while shaking his head.

Scott's expression hardens at Javi's words, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "As if her intentions are any better." he shot back, jealousy and irritation seeping into his voice.

Javi lets out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. "That's not the point, Scott. Just look at her." he says, gesturing to you as Tyler opens the passenger door for you. "You've hurt her more than you realize."

You sigh as you get into his truck, “Thank you again Tyler,” you smile up at him but your eyes stay teary.

“Don’t even worry about it sweetheart, things seemed pretty heated. I’m just glad to get you away from that.” He starts the ignition giving you a small smirk. “So, how about we hit up the bar next to the motel? Get you cheered up.”

“That sounds like a great idea” your smile reaches your eyes as he pulls off.

Your irritation continues to build as you sip on your whiskey, a scowl taking the place of your usual sweetness. “Scott is a dick.” You say in a cool tone, your arms crossing.

“Is he why you’re so worked up?” Lily questions as she orders herself another cocktail.

”Unfortunately..” you grumble before taking another sip.

“I don’t know why you guys keep him around or why you let him get you all hot and bothered like this.” She says with amusement in her voice.

“I don’t” you protest, your eyebrows furrowing, she laughs in response.

”Oh really?” Your fingers fumble with your glass, “Do you hate him or is it something more?” She teases.

You gasp as Boone laughs, “Maybe you should go argue with him some more,” he motions to your drink. “Now that you have liquid courage.”

”You’re right. I should go talk some sense into that thick skull of his.” You say with newfound confidence.

You shoot Javi a text asking him which room Scott is staying in. He responds rather quickly, making sure to tell you to play nice.

“I’ve got it, I’m gonna go give him a piece of my mind.” The pair laugh at your remark as you down the rest of your drink. Grabbing your jacket you leave the establishment, thinking about all the things you’re gonna yell at him as you walk to his motel room.

You knock against the door roughly, Scott is sitting on the edge of his bed. He’s deep in thought and frustration, nursing a beer, when he hears the knock on his door. His eyes narrow, wondering who it could possibly be.

He gets up and makes his way to the door, opening it. Scott looks at you, his eyes slightly widened at the surprise of you standing outside his room, a stern and determined look on your face. He knew this conversation wasn’t going to be pleasant.

"What do you want?" Scott asks, leaning against the doorframe, pretending to be unaffected by your presence. You push your way into his room, slamming your shoulder in his arm. You plop onto the mattress with your arms crossed over your stomach.

“I want you to apologize.” You throw your left leg over your right. Scott lets out a huff of annoyance, clearly unamused by your unexpected and blunt demand.

He lets the door close behind him as he crosses his arms over his chest. "What are you, five?" he retorts, a slight smirk plays at the corner of his lips. "You barge into my room uninvited, just to demand an apology?"

”Yes, I want you to apologize to me.” You keep a stoic expression, no longer extending kindness his way, which frustrates him even more. Scott looks down at you, his smirk fading as you maintain your cold expression.

He's not used to seeing you so serious, and it only serves to irritate him further. "And why should I apologize to you, princess? I didn’t do anything wrong." he replies, his tone still biting.

He steps closer to the bed, his arms still crossed over his chest. The annoyance in his eyes becomes more apparent as you refuse to back down. You stand up and poke your pointer finger into his chest, your eyebrows furrowing.

“You did do something wrong and you know it.” You spit out. Scott's eyes narrow as you poke him in the chest, annoyance rolling off of him in waves. He swats your hand away, gripping your wrist and holding it tightly.

"And what exactly did I do wrong?" he says back, his voice low and firm as he steps closer to you. "As far as I'm concerned, I just stated the truth." You shove his shoulder with your free hand pushing him onto the bed.

“Oh yeah?” You retort, “You weren’t being honest you were being a total douche.” Scott grunts as he makes contact with the bed, surprise flashing in his eyes. He looks up at you, sitting on the edge of the mattress, frustration written all over his face.

He scoffs at your comment, bristling at your insult. "Being a douche? I was just being real. You’re always so focused on those other storm chasers and you don’t even notice what's right in front of you."

He grabs your wrist once again, pulling you down onto the bed beside him. “And what’s right in front of me, huh?” You yank your arm away while glaring up at him. Scott lets go of your wrist, his eyes locking onto yours as you glare up at him. He scoffs, rolling his eyes briefly before answering you.

"Me, dumbass," he retorts coldly. He lets out an exasperated huff as his eyes flick across your face. "I'm right in front of you. And yet for some reason you keep swooning over Owens."

Your eyes widen with surprise as his words cause a blush to creep up your cheeks. “Tyler?” You question Scott, your eyebrows furrowing. Scott notices the blush creep across your cheeks, he smirks seeing your flustered response. He raises an eyebrow at your question.

"Yeah, Tyler. Ring a bell?" He taunts. "You always hang around him, buy him food and water, and give him those sweet little smiles." he states dryly, his voice dripping with jealousy and irritation.

He reaches out, his large hand grabbing your thigh, his thumb slowly rubbing against the smooth flesh. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous.” You say biting your lip as his touch sends a shiver down your spine.

Scott's eyes darken at your question, his grip on your thigh tightening as a pang of annoyance and jealousy shoots through him.

He swallows before responding, his tone gruff and sarcastic, "Jealous?" he retorts. "Of Tyler Owens? Why would I be jealous of that pretty boy wannabe storm chaser?" He lets his hand run further up your thigh, his fingers teasing the edge of your short skirt.

”It sounds like you’re a bit worked up.” You groan out, your body tingling in reaction to his hand. Scott smirks at your reaction, his hand continues to move further and further up your thigh, slowly and deliberately.

He notices the way your body responds to his touch, relishing in the effect he’s having on you. He leans in close so his breath fans against your skin. “Worked up?” he repeats, his voice low and sultry. “And why would I be worked up, princess?”

”Maybe because you’re thinking about Tyler having the same kind of thoughts about me as you do…” You tease him, your hand sliding up his toned arm. Scott's breath catches in his throat as your hand runs up his arm, the muscles in his body tensing in response.

He grits his teeth, his jaw clenching tightly, as a surge of jealousy washes over him at your mention of Tyler. He turns on the bed to face you fully, his hand on your thigh moving to grip your waist, pulling you closer. "Watch your mouth, princess." he warns, his voice a low growl as he leans down towards you, his face mere inches from yours.

”And why should I?” You say with mischief in your voice, “You never watch your mouth when it comes to me.” Scott's eyes narrow, a fire igniting within him as you challenge him. He grips your waist pulling you even closer to him, your bodies nearly pressing against each other.

He leans down so his lips hover over your ear, his voice a rough whisper that sends a shiver down your spine. "If you keep talking like that, princess, I might have to shut that pretty mouth of yours."

”What if I’d like that?” You flick your tongue out to wet your bottom lip. Scott lets a deep chuckle rumble through his chest as he watches your tongue dart out to wet your lip, the action only fueling the desire burning within him.

He grips your hip, his hands roughly pulling you onto his lap, your legs now straddling his hips. He runs his hand up the expanse of your bare thigh, his fingers brushing against the edge of your skirt.

He looks at you, his gaze dark and intense as he replies huskily, “Careful what you wish for, princess.” You grind your hips down on his, trying to further tease him as your arms find their way around his neck.

Scott lets out a guttural groan as you grind against him, his grip on your body tightens reflexively, pulling you against him even harder. He leans in, his lips mere millimeters from your skin, his hot breath fanning your neck.

His hands move further under your skirt, his calloused fingers trailing up the inside of your thighs slowly and torturously. "Playing with me still?" he growls in your ear, his voice thick with desire.

”It’s my way of getting back at you,” Scott lets out a huff as you push his shoulders, his body falling back onto the bed. He looks up at you, a mix of surprise and arousal in his eyes as you straddle him, pinning him to the bed.

He lets out a low growl, his hands reaching up to grip your hips, holding you in place. His thumbs move in circles against your bare skin, sending shivers down your spine. "Is that right, princess?" he huffs, his voice strained with desire. "You finally fighting back?"

”I am,” you lean down to whisper in his ear, “I’m gonna get you back for everything.” You say teasingly as you slip off of him, heading for the door. Scott's eyes widen as you slide off his lap, panic and desperation creeping into his gaze as you make your way to the door.

He sits up quickly, reaching out and grabbing your wrist before you can reach the door handle. His grip is firm, not willing to let you go just yet. "Where do you think you're going, princess?" he growls, pulling you back towards him.

”Not so eager to let me go this time?” You question with amusement, a smile creeping over your lips. Scott yanks you back onto the bed, pinning you underneath him in one swift motion. His body weight presses against yours, trapping you against the mattress.

He looks down at you, a mixture of annoyance and desire in his eyes. "Did you really think I'd let you walk out that door?" he huffs, his hands gripping your wrists and pinning them down beside your head.

"You're not going anywhere." he murmurs against your skin as he trails kisses down your jaw, to your neck, then your collarbone. The sudden shift in power dynamics sends a jolt of excitement through your body as you feel his weight pressing you down into the bed.

You struggle slightly, not with fear but with a thrill that you never knew you enjoyed. "Scott, what are you doing?" you breathe out, your voice a mix of surprise and challenge.

His eyes are dark and focused on yours as he leans closer, his teeth grazing your earlobe. "Teaching you a lesson, princess," he murmurs before his lips find yours in a fiery kiss that leaves you gasping for more.

His tongue sweeps into your mouth, claiming it as his own, and you can't help but kiss him back with a passion that matches his.

As Scott's kisses grew more tender, his asshole demeanor began to slip away, revealing a side of him you hadn't seen before. He started to undress you, his movements urgent but not rough.

You could feel his hands shaking slightly as he unbuttoned your shirt, his eyes never leaving yours. He slid it off your shoulders, exposing your lacy bra.

His eyes darkened with desire as he took in the sight of you, his breath hitching in his throat. You felt a strange mix of excitement and vulnerability under his gaze, but the alcohol and your own pent-up frustrations gave you the courage to let him continue.

He leaned down to kiss your neck, his breath hot and sweet from the beer he had been drinking, sending tingles down your spine. His hands moved to the clasp of your bra, fumbling slightly as he tried to undo it, a hint of awkwardness peeking through his usually cocky exterior.

Despite everything, you found yourself eager to see where this would lead, your body responding to his touch in ways it never had to anyone else's.

As Scott's hands continue to explore your body, he finally unclasps your bra, revealing your soft, round breasts. His gaze lingers on them for a moment before he leans down to kiss and suck on your hardened nipples, causing you to arch your back and moan in pleasure.

You feel his arousal pressing against you, making you even more eager for what's to come. He then slides your skirt down, his eyes taking in the sight of your matching lacy panties.

With a smirk, he hooks his fingers into the waistband and slowly pulls them down, revealing your wetness. His eyes darken with desire as he licks his lips, and before you can even process what's happening, he's already between your legs, his tongue tracing the edges of your folds.

You gasp as he tastes you, his mouth and tongue exploring your most intimate parts with surprising tenderness. He looks up at you, a question in his eyes, but the desperate need in yours is answer enough.

He settles into a rhythm, licking and sucking until you're squirming beneath him, begging for more.

With a low groan, Scott pulls away from you, his eyes filled with a hunger that you never knew existed within him. He quickly strips his own clothes off, his erection standing proudly as he leans over you.

His gaze lingers on your exposed body, a look of awe and desire mixing within his eyes. He positions himself between your legs, his hand caressing your thigh gently. He whispers against your ear, "Ready, princess?" His voice is a mix of tenderness and urgency.

You nod, feeling the heat pool between your legs, and he doesn't waste another moment. He slides into you with a gentle push, filling you up with a surprising tenderness that makes your heart race. He starts to move, his hips rocking into yours in a slow, sensual rhythm that sends waves of pleasure crashing through your body.

His eyes never leave yours, the intensity of the moment building as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear. His hands are everywhere, caressing and exploring, making you feel cherished and desired.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer as he picks up the pace, the gentle movements turning into a passionate dance of bodies intertwined. The room is filled with the sound of your soft moans and his deep grunts of pleasure.

It's nothing like you've ever experienced before, and you can't help but feel a strange sense of belonging as he makes love to you with a fiery passion that seems to burn away all the tension between you.

Your bodies move in perfect harmony, every touch and kiss feeling like it's been written in the stars, leaving only the aftermath of passion and the thundering of your hearts beating together.

With a final, deep thrust, Scott's body stiffens as he reaches his climax, groaning against your neck. He releases himself inside of you with a raw passion that resonates through both your bodies.

Pulling out, he rolls onto his back, bringing you with him so that you're nestled against his side, your legs tangled together. His chest heaves with heavy breaths, his eyes closed as the tension in his muscles slowly starts to ease.

You lay there, feeling a mix of satisfaction and bewilderment, your heart racing in your chest. The room is quiet except for the sound of your mingled breaths and the occasional distant rumble outside.

The warmth of his cum inside of you serves as a physical reminder of the intensity of the moment, leaving you feeling both fulfilled and slightly overwhelmed.

As the reality of what just happened begins to sink in, you glance over at Scott, his eyes now open and staring up at the ceiling, his expression unreadable.

Quietly you slip out of the bed, grabbing your clothes and sneaking into the bathroom. Cleaning yourself up, you put your clothes back on your heart aching as your mind wanders, wondering if he regrets it all.

Scott remains lying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling for a few moments after you quietly slip away to the bathroom. His mind is a flurry of emotions. Part of him still can't believe what just happened.

He sits up on the edge of the bed, pulling his boxers back on, running a hand through his hair as he waits for you to exit the bathroom. When you do, he looks up at you, his expression still unreadable.

He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. He stands up, walking over to you, his gaze intense. You look up at him, your eyes scanning his face as you try to read his face.

Scott stands in front of you, his eyes locked onto yours, a mix of uncertainty and intensity swirling in their depths. He swallows, his throat dry as he looks at you.

You can practically see the gears turning in his head as he struggles to find the right words. He lifts his hand, gently cupping the side of your face, his thumb lightly tracing the contour of your cheek.

"Hey..." he mumbles, his voice rough and strained. You think he’s trying to brush you off so you push his hand away from your face.

“I should, uh, I should probably go now..” your voice trails off as your gaze drops to the ground. Scott's eyes widen as you push his hand away, his heart clenching in his chest.

"Wait..." he says urgently, reaching out towards you. He doesn't want you to leave. Not after what just happened between you two. He grabs your wrist, gently pulling you back towards him.

"Hold on a second," he murmurs, his voice a mixture of desperation and pleading. He steps closer to you, his other hand coming to rest on your hip. You lean into his touch savoring how his hands feel against you.

”Scott, look..” you try to think of what to say but nothing else comes out. Scott's heart pounds in his chest as you lean into him. He can feel the tension in your body, sees the conflict in your eyes.

He searches your face, his gaze flickering over your features, desperate for any hint of what you're thinking. He tightens his grip on your hip, his other hand coming up to cup your cheek.

"Look at me," he says gruffly, his voice almost pleading. He gently turns your face up towards his, his eyes locking onto yours. "What were you going to say?"

”I mean,” you take a deep breath, “it’s okay if you want me to go, I get it.” You close your eyes, your cheek pressing into his palm. Scott's eyes widen in disbelief at your words.

"What? No, no, that's not what I want at all." he says urgently, his grip on your hip and cheek tightening. He pulls you even closer to him, closing the distance so your bodies are nearly pressed up against each other.

He looks down at you, his expression a mixture of frustration and desperation. "Do you really think I'd want you to walk out after... after what we just did?" he says, his voice low and gruff.

Your arm wraps around his torso, fingers pressing into his back. “Scott, I don’t have to stay just because you feel bad about what happened..” Scott's heart clenches in his chest as you wrap your arm around him, his body responding to your touch. He lets out a sigh, his other hand moving to wrap around your waist.

"It's not that," he mumbles against your skin, his breath hot against your ear. He pulls you even closer, his arms holding you tight against him. "I don't feel bad about what happened. I just... I don't want you to leave," he admits, his voice thick with emotion.

”Scott, you’re not usually the sweet type.” Your voice regains its amused tone as you realize he wants the same as you. Scott can't help but chuckle at your words, the amused tone in your voice bringing a soft smile to his lips. He shakes his head slightly, pulling back just enough so he can look at you.

His eyes roam over your face, taking in your features and the slight smirk playing at the corner of your lips. "Sweet, huh?" he mutters, his hand on your hip moving up to grip your chin, tilting your head back slightly. "That's not what you'd usually call me, princess."

”Not quite,” you smile, “but I can’t lie, I like your change in attitude.” Scott's heart skips a beat as you smile up at him, his grip on your chin tightening just slightly. A sly grin spreads across his lips as you comment on his change in attitude.

"Oh, yeah?" he hums, his voice low and sultry. He brings his face closer to yours, his breath hot on your skin. "You like it when I'm not a complete dick?" he teases, his smirk widening.

“Mhm,” you sit back on the bed, slipping out of your skirt and shirt. “You think I can borrow your shirt for the night?” Your voice is sultry as you look up at him through your eyelashes.

Scott's jaw clenches as you undress, his eyes roaming over your body as more and more skin is exposed once again. He swallows, his throat suddenly feeling dry as he watches you reach for your bra.

"Uh, yeah," he mumbles hoarsely, his voice thick with desire. "You can borrow whatever you want, princess."

His eyes are fixed on you as his shirt, still balled up on the bed from earlier, is in your hands. He watches as you slip it on, the fabric molding to your curves, and he can't help but let out a low growl at the sight.

You grasp his hand and pull him to you Scott willingly follows your lead, letting you pull him down towards the bed. A low rumble vibrates in his chest as he looms over you, his eyes roaming over your body once again.

His hands move to brace on either side of your head, holding his body above you. He looks down at you, his eyes dark and hungry. "You look damn good in my shirt," he growls, his voice thick with desire.

“You think so?” You brush your fingers over his jaw. Scott's skin tingles where your fingers brush against his jaw. He leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as a shiver runs down his spine at your gentle caress.

"I know so," he murmurs, opening his eyes to lock onto yours. "You look good in anything," he adds, his voice low and husky as he gazes down at you.

“Scott, we should sleep..” you murmur, your eyes getting heavy. Scott lets out a soft sigh, noticing the tiredness in your eyes. He knows you're right, but he can't help but want to hold onto this moment for just a bit longer.

With a final brush of his hand against your cheek, he rolls off of you, laying down beside you. He pulls you close, wrapping his arms around your waist and tucking you against his chest.

"Sleep," he mutters, his voice soft and soothing. "I'll be here when you wake up, princess." You rest your face against his chest, cuddling into him.

[wonustars]

𝘋𝘰𝘯𝘵 𝘔𝘰𝘷𝘦, 𝘏𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘺

Soobin vers. | Beomgyu vers.

txt as 5sos songs: you look so perfect.

Summary: yeonjun is a well known, attractive, and respected. you two are total opposites. the last thing that you would expect is for him to take interest in you. first meeting you at a coffee shop, he beomes a regular. constantly coming back to visit, but not just for the iced americanos.

Reposts are always appreciated/encouraged!! Tumblr works on reblogs not likes, Thank you for your support :)

Tags: nonidol!yj, popular!yj, campuscrush!yj, shy!asocial!reader, total opposites, opposites attract, yeonjun is so sweet and gives lots of reassurance, reader is a little angsty but still a lovely mc!

SMUT! MDNI 18+ only!

Warnings: dom!yeonjun, sub!reader, afab!reader, virgin!reader, unprotected sex, oral (f. receiving), fingering, mating press, creampie, bigdick!yeonjun,this one is more on the vanilla side.

Word count: 5k words

Note: this story contains smut so minors pls DNI! I mean it, if I see you interacting i will be blocking you. hellowwww!! a lot of people really liked the preview so, heres the full thing hehe. i like half assed with the proof read so let me know if i've missed any typos, tags or warnings!! my lovely Taehyun will be after this one :)

happy reading ~

All your life you had been the one in the shadows. There are no major plot points or no “y/n moments” that people would use to describe Wattpad-like events. You weren’t upset about this though, the life you live is content, happy enough. 

A normal day-to-day for you consists only of two things, school, and working at the cafe across campus. Your life isn’t appealing to others, but you like how quiet it is. A quiet life with no disturbances, no drama, and no feelings of stress. It's a peculiar feeling to want something that seems so lonely.

The last time you witnessed a major disturbance in your life had to be the event that took place within the confines of your part-time job. Two men were trying to win the heart of a girl. Two attractive men at that. The whole time the three were quarrelling you wondered what it would feel like knowing someone wanted you that bad, that they would fight someone else to have you. 

It left an odd taste in your mouth, and a stinging feeling behind your eyes. 

“Hey… are you guys still taking orders?” a voice brings you out of your internal tangent. You perk up from the relaxed position you were in. Shamefully, you nod. Not wanting to make eye contact you head towards the register. 

“What can I get for you?” you ask, eyes trained on the ordering screen. 

“A large iced americano please, that’s all.” 

“And the name of the order?” you ask, a stupid question. No one else was in the cafe except you and this random guy. The music feels louder than it usually does, the embarrassment causes your ears to turn red. 

“Yeonjun.” 

..̇·𓏲 would you wanna run away too?

Yeonjun found himself coming to the cafe across campus more often now. The girl behind the counter piqued his interest, more than anyone he’s ever come across before. The energy you gave off, the fact that you were so shy? He couldn’t get you out of his head. So much so that he caught himself visiting you for his iced americano at least once a day. 

Yeonjun was never on the shy side, he had always been popular at school, living a life filled with social interaction. Everyone at school always adored him, not only for his looks but his charming personality. Which only made the fact that not being able to talk to you is a weird, new feeling for him. 

As much as he wanted to talk to you, he just didn’t know what to say. Where to start, how the conversation should come about. He was overthinking, and he also felt like it was wrong to only visit the cafe as an excuse to see you, like a stalker, although this is just some innocent crush. 

“A large iced americano please,” Yeonjun asks, giving you his sweetest smile. You glance up at him and give a slight nod. He has been coming to the cafe more often lately, you weren’t sure why but you weren’t complaining. A handsome customer becoming a regular was something that caused you to look forward to your shifts. 

“Is that all?” you ask, looking up to glance at his features again. Fuck he was so attractive. 

“Actually, there’s something else I wanted to ask.” Yeonjun declares, his face covered with a layer of determination. You don’t say anything, the feeling of anticipation bubbling in your stomach. “Can I also get your number?” 

Your eyes almost fell out of their sockets. Not in a million years could you have predicted that the handsome regular would ask for your number. 

“U-um yeah sure it’s  _” you're stuttering, no one ever asked for your number before. Is this the “y/n moment” so many people on the internet talk about? 

..̇·𓏲 you look so perfect standing there

As soon as you get home from your shift a notification lights up your screen. It was a foreign feeling to see your phone light up from a notification, let alone a message. Of course, you had friends, but they preferred to hang out in person rather than text. 

You already knew who it could be from, your cheeks heating up at the thought, and possibilities of what this notification might contain. Getting ready for bed quickly, you envelope yourself in your comforter. The light from your phone screen lights up your dark room. 

unknown number: hey, is this y/n? its yeonjun. from the cafe. 

you: Yes this is y/n :) 

yeonjun: hi! you got home safely, im glad. 

you: Yes I did, and so did you. I’m also glad. 

yeonjun: lol ya i hope i didn’t come off too strong earlier. i just want to get to know you more. 

you: No you didn’t, Its ok. I didn’t think you would even want my number. It was kind of a surprise. 

yeonjun: what ofc i would want your number, i think you’re really pretty. and you make good americanos

you: Thank you, it just wasn’t what i was expecting. Americanos arent rocket science tho, its literally water and espresso lol 

yeonjun: yeah ik but they taste so much better when you make them :)

It’s only been a few minutes since you and Yeonjun started talking over text, but your face has already turned into a deep shade of crimson. Throwing your phone across your bed, you shove your face into your pillow letting out a scream. The sound of your feet hitting your bed as you kick them and giggle like a mad woman. As you come back to your senses, you quickly remember that you have yet to reply. 

you: You flatter me Yj, you should keep coming back for them if you like them so much. 

yeonjun: yj? even my nickname sounds sweeter coming from you, but the Americanos weren’t the only thing i was coming back for. 

The smile on your face hurts your cheeks. Never has anyone made you feel like Yeonjun did as he texted you. The blatant flirting and numerous compliments realized how much you were missing out on while living your mundane student life. 

It had only been a few hours of texting each other back and forth, but you started to grow fond of the person Yeonjun is. He’s so handsome, not just in the face, but also with the way he carried himself. The impression he gives off is insanely attractive. The way he made you feel wanted, liked, and cherished over the simplest things reeled you in. 

..̇·𓏲 your lipstick stain is a work of art 

It’s been a few weeks since you and Yeonjun started talking but it has started to become a part of your daily routine. You’ve become accustomed to the many good morning and goodnight texts, the late night Facetime calls, and the blatant flirting from Yeonjun. 

He still comes into the cafe daily to grab his iced americano which you look forward to every shift. 

“Hey y/n!” a voice coming from the entrance grabs your attention. 

You’re working the lunch rush and have been trying to restock the pastries in the glass display. To your dismay they weren’t cooperating with you, leaving you frustrated and tired. A sigh of defeat leaves your lips and you turn your head over to the person calling your name. 

It’s him. The one person who makes your whole shift a little better. He looked so good walking through the door. His dark blue hair appeared more vibrant than usual, and the sun was hitting his face in the most heavenly way. Your heart was pumping hard, the flow of blood running to your ears and cheeks. 

Yeonjun walks up to you, and you notice someone following close behind him. Your eyes shift between the two of them. Assuming thoughts filling your head quickly. 

She is really pretty, you thought. 

They walk up to the counter together, laughing about something amongst themselves. It made your heart sink to the floor. The feeling in itself made you want to throw up. 

Quickly, you push it aside. You were not wanting your feelings to get in the way of your professionalism, especially at work. 

“Oh, hey Yeonjun and friend. What can I get for you guys?” you ask, smiling a little too hard, trying hard to act normal.

“Two americanos pleasee,” he answers, prolonging the ‘please’ with a little pout. If not for your current situation you would’ve found Yeonjun adorable. Your heart can only feel a stinging sensation at the view of the two in front of you. 

“Sounds good. They’ll be at the end of the counter for you guys,” you mumbled, not really making eye contact with Yeonjun. 

He senses your change in mood but didn’t want to make a fuss with a line slowly forming behind him. It’s the lunch rush after all, so he brushes it off for the time being. Leaving you to work, making a mental note to ask you about it when you’re off. 

..̇·𓏲 got your name tattooed in an arrow heart

Your shift felt longer than usual, probably due to the fact that you couldn’t get Yeonjun off your mind. The feeling in your chest still hasn’t subsided. Who are you to feel jealous about him hanging around other girls? Especially knowing that the two of you aren’t even together. With that tidbit of information circling your mind, you felt even more guilt for letting jealousy get the better of you. 

Not bothering to even check your phone, you focus on getting home quickly, wanting to take a shower as soon as you got back. Walking down the sidewalk your legs felt like jelly, thankfully you didn’t live that far from work. It was already past sunset and the light summer breeze whistled with every step you took. Five minutes and you’re already standing in front of your building. A sigh of relief leaves your lips as you stare up at the brown bricks towering over you, imagining your bed and the comfort it brings you. 

As you come closer to your building you see a figure leaning against the wall near the entrance. Your senses are heightened considering there usually aren’t many suspicious people who tend to hang around your building. The distance between you and this stranger has gotten smaller, revealing their identity. All the while your heart drops once again, but in relief. 

“Y/n! Hey sorry if I freaked you out. You weren’t answering my texts I thought something bad happened to you.” Yeonjun explained, coming closer to you. His scent fills your senses, calming you down in just a blink of an eye. Thank god it was just him and not some stalker. 

“Hi Junnie, sorry I didn’t answer you. I didn’t check my phone after I got off. How do you know where I live?” You asked, raising an eyebrow at him, pretending to be suspicious of his actions. Your arms are crossed as you face towards him, his eyes are round as a globe. 

“U-uh sorry if I seem like a creep y/n-” he chuckles nervously as he scratches the back of his head “-I asked one of your friends because you usually shoot me text when you’re off work.” 

“Oh ok, and no I don’t think your creepy. We’ve known eachother long enough to know these types of things anyways.” You comfort him, patting his back as you tilt your head towards the entrance. Silently asking if he wanted to come upstairs with you. 

As if it didn’t exist in the first place, the feeling of jealousy brewing in your stomach disappeared. The only thing left was the warmth Yeonjun brought you, even though your relationship has been undefined. Unlabelled. He felt like a new world you had yet to explore. New experiences that you’re waiting to try. Although he was popular, especially with the women around campus, he was a total green flag. 

Yeonjun nods his head, giving you his signature heart stopper smile as you lead him up to your apartment.

The familiar air of the building envelopes you, both of your footsteps echoing as you slowly ascend up the stairs. It wasn’t too long of a trip since you live on the second floor. 

A warm hand intertwines with yours, causing the hair on your arms to stand. The chills running through your body like an electric shock. If you weren’t quick enough, you would’ve tripped on the next step; taking Yeonjun down with you. But you relax, squeezing his hand reassuringly as you allow him to continue to follow you. 

What felt like an eternity, was in reality only a minute or two. You and Yeonjun finally made it up to the front door of your home. Your hands staying intertwined even when you fetch your keys from the bottom of your bag. As you unlock the door, your shoulders instantly relax. This is what you’ve been dreaming of since the moment you clocked into work. 

“Well, this is me.” you turn to him, shyly smiling. It wasn’t much but you were happy here. 

He chuckles. “Its cute. It suits your vibe.” 

You can’t help but smile as you continue to drag him through the rest of your living space. He follows you obediently, taking in everything little by little. The whole place felt warm, cozy, familiar. Which is exactly how Yeonjun feels about you. 

“Im gonna take a shower and change. You can watch something while you wait if you’d like.” You beam up at him with his hand still glued to yours, both sets of eyes twinkling against the ambient lighting. In this specific lighting you found Yeonjun to be so pretty. The dim lighting accentuating his features; the pink tint to his lips, the sharpness of his nose, the admiration in his eyes. 

Distracted by your beauty, Yeonjun can only smile and nod. 

..̇·𓏲 dont move, honey

As you leave your room, you see Yeonjun sitting on your couch. Looks like he’s made himself at home, you thought. Giggling quietly to yourself, you close the door shut. The sound causing Yeonjun to move his eyes over to you. His eyes are stuck on your figure, he didn’t expect you to walk out in such little clothing. The lump in his throat gets harder to swallow as you make your way to him. 

Your definition of comfortable clothing is a oversized shirt and some sleep shorts. Yeonjun doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t want to be rude and keep staring but he just can’t tear his eyes off you. The way your wet hair is causing your shirt to dampen; giving a sneak peak at your breasts. Or the factt that your shorts barely covered any part of you, it almost looked like you weren’t wearing any at all. God, he felt like a pervert, you looked so good he couldn’t help but feel-

“Whatcha watching?” you inquire, sitting down beside him, dangerously close. 

“Hmm just some random youtube video I stumbled upon.” he shrugs, trying to look non-chalant, but in reality, he was screaming at himself for being so turned on right now. 

“Oh ok.” You turn your attention towards the TV, your body stiff as you think about the proximity between you and Yeonjun right now. It’s the frist time he’s been over, and it’s also the first time you’ve spent alone time in person. At this moment you can only wonder if he feels the same way you do. 

With that thought, the memory of the girl who accompanied him to the cafe ressurfaces. You wonder if she was something more to him, of if they are just friends. Silently you pray its the latter. The feelings you’ve grown for Yeonjun seems to strengthen with everyday and night that you two talk. Although its a sad thought, he has every right to talk to other people; especially since neither of you stated that you would be exclusive. You aren’t really an expert in these types of situations anyways. 

Ever since you were young, the only relationships you’ve experienced were through media or reading. Some of your friends would tell you about their dating experiences, but you had no stories of your own to share. You were never as outgoing as they were, and you also didn’t like the idea of going out as often as they did. Funnily enough you still ended up in a job where you had to talk to strangers. All of that had lead you to believe that you were better off living the single life, as sad as it sounds; it was true for a good portion of your life. 

Until Yeonjun. 

“H-hey can I ask you something?” you turn over to face your body towards Yeonjun, your eyes flashing with clear nervousness. He pauses the video turning towards you with curious eyes. 

“Yeah of course, anything.” He smiles at you, his hand patting your bare thigh reassuringly. The action causing your cheeks heat up almost instantly. 

“Who was that girl you were with earlier? I know it’s not my place to ask considering we’re just friends but I’ve been thinking about it all day. Obviously if you’re not comfy you do-,” He cuts you off, a giggle leaving his lips. 

“Shes just a friend. She’s dating Soobin so you don’t need to worry.” he reassures, his hand coming back to your thigh again, squeezing it lightly, but this time he keeps it there. Your heartbeat is now in your throat as you look down at his hand. The veins running along his arms were prominent; the fact that his whole hand could grip more than half your thigh caused an unfamiliar heat to flow down to your lower body. 

“O-oh, ok just pretend I didn’t ask that then,” you mumble, your eyes still focused on the way he was no rubbing your thigh. It felt good to experience this type of skinship with him, even if it wasn’t all that much. It still has you stumbling over your words. 

“I thought you knew I liked you already y/n. I thought you knew from the moment I asked for your number.” he whispered, his face coming closer to yours. 

Your breath hitched not being able to move your eyes away from his lips. 

“U-um I didn’t know. No ones ever shown interest in me.” you confess, your head now turned down towards your hands as you play with them nervously. 

“Thats ok baby, I’m interested in you. I like you.” Yeonjun states firmly. His finger carefully placed under your chin, forcing your gaze to meet his. The look in his eyes sent a chill down your spine. This is the first time you’ve seen Yeonjun look so serious. You couldn’t help but gulp. 

“I like you too Junnie.” you whisper, your eyes locked on his. Smiling, Yeonjun strokes your cheek with his thumb. The warmth of his hand still burning onto your thigh. 

“Fuck y/n It’s so hard for me to hold back when you call me that.” His tone is low. Staring at your lips, he begins to trace their outline. 

“What? Junnie?” you provoke, matching his tone. A groan almost leaves his lips but instead his grip on your thigh only tightens. 

“May I kiss you y/n?” Yeonjun’s polite words are a stark contracts as to all the thoughts brewing in his head. You seem to have lost your voice, only nodding as you slowly try to close the gap. 

With Yeonjun’s lips on yours he grips your waist pulling you onto his lap in a swift motion. You can’t help but yelp at how easily he can move you around. It was like you were his own personal ragdoll. Wrapping your arms around his neck, he deepens the kiss.

This is your first time kissing someone but you’re glad your first is Yeonjun. Not only do you have feelings for him, but he tasted so good. It felt so wrong but right at the exact same time. 

The two of you continue to kiss passionately, and you feel yourself naturally move with the flow. Your hips starting to move back and forth slightly as Yeonjun guides you with his large hands. A tiny gasp escapes your lips as you feel something hard rub against your core. Although this was all new to you, it was like you already knew what to do. Yeonjun takes the opportunity to allow his tongue to enter your mouth. This surprises you, pulling away you say,

“Junnie I-i’ve never done anything like this before.” you squeaked, burying your face into his neck. He rubs his hands up and down the sides of your thighs, soothing you. 

“Thats alright princess, I can show you how. Will you let me?” he asks, his hands moving to take your face away from the space between his shoulder and neck. Brushing the hair out of your face, he tucks the strands behind your ear. The action in itself can only cause your cheeks to burn a deep red. Everything Yeonjun did always had you feeling like the most cherished girl in the world. You can only nod as his actions have left you speechless. 

“With your words princess.” he demands, a hand snakes down to your hips giving you an encouraging squeeze. 

“Yes Junnie, please show me how,” you murmur. Steadily, you move closer to him wanting to close the gap between you two again. You want to feel the same way you did when your bodies were pressed up against eachother. 

“Alright darling, just let me know if it gets too much for you ok? I’ll only go as far as you let me.” 

“Yes Junnie.”

“Good girl.” his hands are back on your hips, his lips back on yours. The wet sounds coming from both your mouths have you riled up. Yeonjuns back to moving your hips back and forth, desperately wanting to increase the friction. The sensation of his hard dick rubbing against you was addicting. Your thin shorts not really leaving anything up to imagination. 

Yeonjun can only groan, the feeling of your warm cunt against his cock is driving his crazy. He can only wonder how it must feel to be inside you. 

“F-feel’s good Jun.” you moan into the kiss, your hips now moving on their own accord. 

“You like that princess?” he chuckles, peppering kisses along your neck and collarbone, leaving love bites in his tracks. Slowly his hands creep up under your shirt. It lifts ups as his hands move higher. They almost hit your bare breasts, but before he proceeds he looks up to you for approval. You can only nod, dazed from all your senses going into overdrive. 

Yeonjun doesn’t waste any time and removes your shirt. You’re left bare in front of him, the blush on your cheeks still noticeable in the dim lighting. 

“You’re beautiful love,” he assures, going back to his ministrations. Kissing up and down your neck until he reaches your breasts. He takes one in his hand and the other one in his mouth. You can only moan, your head lolling back from the pleasure. Hands gripping onto his hair for some type of balance. 

Yeonjun is rock hard under you, the pulse in his dick only getting more noticable the more he pleasures you. He wants to show you how much he wants you, to show you how much you deserved to be cherished. 

Tongue swirling around your nipple, your moans become less shy, the feeling of being pleasured taking over you. Yeonjuns mouth moving onto the other nipple as he picks you up. You yelp from the sudden movement but wrap your legs around his waist anyways. 

His feet padding towards your bedroom, he opens the door. Gently he places you on your mattress, situating himself between your legs.

“Are you still doing ok over there sweetheart?” he inquires. 

“Really ok Junnie, please keep going. Want more.” you whimper, your elbows stablizing you as you get a good view of him. He begins to remove your shorts, your pussy glistening from how wet he’s gotten you. A groan bubbles up in Yeonjuns throat; just looking at you in this light could make him cum. 

He makes himself comfortable with his head between your thighs. Taking things slow, he uses one finger to play with your entrance. Rubbing you all over, collecting your wetness before he finally pushes a finger in. 

You moan, your elbows collapsing from the pleasure. You grip your sheets as he pumps his finger in and out of you. The lewd sounds of your soaking core bouncing off the walls. After a few more pumps he adds in another finger, the stretch burning so good.

He looks up at you to see you whimpering for him, his name leaving your mouth in what sounded like a sweet melody. The way your brows scrunch with his every moves turns him on even more. Watching you coming undone on his fingers is a sight he wants to see everyday if he could.

“Let me taste you baby.” Yeonjun says with a deep tone to his voice. Every word coming out of his mouth is dripping with lust. With that warning he places a kiss on your clit, your hands moving from your sheets to grip his hair. He continues to kitten lick and suck on your sensitive bud, the pleasure sending you to another universe. 

“O-oh Junnie, it feels so good.” you squeak out. He places your legs over his shoulders, delving into you more. He’s properly eating you out now, his fingers pumping in and out of your wet heat while licking you all at the same time. As he goes on, an unfamiliar feeling starts to brew in your stomach; growing stronger as more time passed. 

“I can feel your pussy gripping my fingers baby, cum for me. I know you can do it, just let go.” Yeonjun purrs, his words of encouragement is your last straw before your orgasm. 

“Good girl, so good for me. You’re doing so well my love.” he’s praising you as he moves back up to your face. Hes smirking at you as he hovers over your naked body. His own body still in between your legs, the lower half of his face glistening with your juices. 

“Can I fuck you princess?” he asks.

The vulgar words spewing from his mouth, the way he asks so nicely, the way he calls you such sweet names; the polarity of it all gives you whiplash. 

“Yes please, wanna feel you inside me.” you mumble and you press kissing all along his face, moving down towards his neck. You found it so attractive how he always asks for your consent. 

He quickly undresses, both your clothes randomly thrown around the room. Situating himself between your legs once again, he sits himself on his heels. Pumping his length a few times he then rubs the tip up and down your slit, collecting your juices. The squelching sound of your lips rubbing against his him is like music to his ears. 

Yeonjun finally enters you, causing your back to arch with every inch he slowly puts in. You’ve only heard about sex through friends, but being able to experience it yourself is on another level. The stretch of his cock pushing inside you stings more than when he was fucking you with his fingers. 

“Mmm Junnie I think you’re too big,” you whimper while hes pressing kisses all over your face to soothe you. 

“It’s ok love, it’ll feel better as it goes on ok?” Yeonjun groans, as he keeps pushing into you. He continues till hes dick is buried deep inside you. Stilling for a moment, he lets you get used to the feeling. The scrunched up look on your face begins to relax, giving him a signal to start thrusting into you. 

“Fuck baby you feel so good around me.” he whispers. 

At first hes slow, but the sound of your wet pussy getting fucked by his dick starts to fog his thoughts. Your moans increase in volume, his name falling off your lips repeatedly. 

“Junnie, hmmm it feels so good. Faster please.” you beg as your wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him down for another kiss. Who is he to deny you? 

He fucks into you faster, this time you can hear the slapping sounds as his length goes in and out of you. One of his hands moving between the two of you to rub your clit and his thrusts to turn sloppy. 

Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head the more Yeonjun pumps his dick into you. You could feel his length kiss your cervix with every thrust. This is all so new to you, and the only thing you could do is keep moaning and telling him how good it felt.

“This pussy was made for me. Isn’t it baby?” he states rather than asks.

“Y-yes Jun.” you’re a stuttering mess, you could barely answer him as it is.

“Taking me so well princess. I wanna fuck you like this all the time now.” he praises again, taking your thighs and pressing them towards your stomach. The new angle causes you to whimper, you can feel him so much deeper. Your gummy walls are practically suctioning him.

You moan in response. He’s fucked you dumb at this point, cock drunk with every move he makes inside your wet cunt.

“Can I cum inside you baby?” he asks in between kisses. 

“Please Junnie, wanna feel you cum in me.” you moan, the feeling of your clit being stimualted as he fucks you is causing you to see stars. You cum around him, gripping his dick as you ride out your second orgasm. As if on queue Yeonjun relases his cum inside you, halting his thrusts. He continues to kiss you making sure you feel loved and wanted, his member still buried inside you. 

“You were amazing for your first time princess.” he praises you once again, you kiss him in response. 

“Lets do it again please.” you giggle. 

Yeonjun kisses up your neck, his cock still rock hard. 

“Whatever you want love.” he responds, thrusting into you again. 

© wonustars

[solarmorrigan]

For the angst prompt thing: Steddie and "Don't fucking touch me."

Hello! Thank you very much for sending a prompt, I'm sorry it took me so long to post, but I do think this one is my favorite out of all the fills I've done for this prompt list <3

[No warnings; Unnamed Freak (who apparently got a name in the most recent novel, but I didn't know that at the time) is named Oliver]

Angsty-ish Prompt List

-

“I’m gonna step outside for a minute,” Steve leans in to murmur in Eddie’s ear, even though the music isn’t that loud.

“Yeah, sounds good.” Eddie nods, and only just keeps himself from turning to catch Steve’s mouth in a kiss when he feels the brush of his lips against his ear; it’s not his fault he’s developed some kind of Pavlovian association between having Steve’s mouth anywhere near his skin and receiving kisses – but they do have company.

Said company is just Gareth, Jeff, and Oliver, but still. Eddie has some decorum.

Steve stands from the couch and the arm he’d had slung around Eddie’s shoulders slides away slowly, his hand brushing warm and heavy over the back of Eddie’s neck, thumb stroking once, familiarly, along the side of his throat before disappearing entirely as Steve moves towards the front door. He doesn’t do so great with groups of people in small spaces anymore; the noise gets to him, and the heat generated by so many bodies in close proximity tends to give him a headache, so he takes breaks now and then, just to give his brain a few minutes to unbend.

The door swings open on silent hinges (Steve had attacked it with a can of WD-40 and a look of determination earlier today, insisting he couldn’t stand the squeaking anymore; he’s always doing things like that around the house – little repairs, organizing, picking things up, even though Eddie insists he doesn’t have to. He says he wants to, the endearing little weirdo) and Steve steps out into the cool evening, leaving Eddie and the boys behind in the warm light of the trailer’s main room.

“So,” Jeff says, looking up from his spot on the floor and gesturing vaguely at Eddie with his beer can, “how’s that going for you guys?”

Eddie blinks at him. “How’s what going?”

“The whole thing between you two,” Jeff clarifies, and Eddie raises a skeptical brow at him.

“You wanna talk about me and Steve having sex?” Eddie asks.

Jeff’s nose scrunches in distaste. “What? No.”

“Not ever,” Gareth jumps in.

“I mean…” Oliver says with a shrug, flinching when Gareth pelts him with a balled-up napkin.

“No,” Gareth reiterates.

“I refuse to apologize for simple curiosity,” Oliver sniffs, and Eddie, seated next to him on the couch, gives him a shove.

He’s glad his friends are accepting – supportive, even (he’d like to say he wouldn’t hang out with them if they weren’t, but let’s be real: nerds could be hard to come by in their neck of the woods, and as long as they were the quiet type of homophobic, Eddie would probably still play D&D with them. But he’s glad they’re not), but he does have some boundaries.

Like, one or two, maybe.

“I just meant the whole… dating thing,” Jeff says, taking a sip from his beer. “Because I’ll be honest, I really didn’t see it at first, but it actually seems to be working out.”

“Dating?” Eddie parrots blankly.

“Yeah. You guys are in, like, some kind of never-ending honeymoon phase or some shit,” Gareth says. “Hasn’t it been over two months?”

“Uhhh, no, I think you gentlemen are confused,” Eddie drawls. “Steve and I are not dating.”

This declaration is met with a moment of silence.

“Seriously?” Oliver finally says.

“Yep,” Eddie replies easily. “No relationship shit here. Strictly a friends-with-benefits-type deal.”

“Seriously,” Olver says again, flatly this time.

“Yes, Oliver, seriously,” Eddie huffs, reaching over to give him another shove, only to have his hand pushed away.

“Eddie, he was practically sitting in your lap just now,” Jeff says. “You two are all over each other.”

“Constantly,” Gareth adds.

Eddie shrugs. “It’s not like this is a big couch; we gotta squish. Anyway, Steve’s just a touchy kind of guy.”

“He doesn’t sit like that with any of us,” Gareth points out.

“Yeah, well, you guys aren’t the ones receiving benefits,” Eddie says. “You want him to sit on your lap? You could ask.”

Gareth lets his head hang back with a noise of frustration. “That’s not the point, and you know it.”

“Don’t you two go on dates?” Jeff asks. “I’ve seen you at the movies. You talk about going out to eat, doing other shit…”

“Yeah, see, that’s the friends part of friends with benefits,” Eddie snarks. “Friends hang out sometimes, I’ve been told. We are all, in fact, hanging out right now, but that doesn’t mean I’m dating any of you.”

“You don’t see the way he looks at you?” Oliver asks, and Eddie can’t help but scoff.

He appreciates the fact that Oliver is passionate about pretty much anything he does, but it also means he’s given to romanticizing. He doesn’t usually manage to drag Jeff or Gareth in with him, though.

“Pretty sure he looks at me like a friend, because that’s what we are.” Eddie rolls his eyes before offering a smarmy little grin. “I mean, I’m sure he looks at me as an exceptionally attractive friend, but that’s it.”

“Genuinely can’t tell if you’re fucking with us, man,” Jeff says, rolling his eyes.

“Genuinely, I am not,” Eddie promises, taking the last viable swallow from his beer before getting up and heading for the kitchen, wiggling his empty can at the others with a raised eyebrow in question. Gareth raises his own near-empty can with a shrug and Eddie nods. “Look,” he says as he ducks towards the fridge, “Steve isn’t the kinda guy you have a relationship with, anyway, you know?”

Eddie doesn’t mean this in a negative way, just as a matter of fact. Steve just doesn’t seem to be a relationship kind of guy. Nancy had been something of an outlier, in how long she and Steve had lasted, and it had become clear after the dust from the Upside Down had settled that he really doesn’t have any interest in pursuing her further. Just the other day, he’d mentioned to Eddie how difficult relationships can be, and about how glad he is they have their thing together instead.

“Being with you is just… easy,” Steve had said; he hadn’t been looking at Eddie at the time, his face instead pillowed on Eddie’s chest, hair sticking to his naked skin where the sweat was still cooling from their last round, but Eddie could see the edge of a smile on his lips.

And Eddie doesn’t have much experience with relationships himself, but he knows that being friends with Steve is easy and that the sex feels equally easy and that the way he’d agreed with Steve and carded his fingers through his hair had sent Steve right to sleep with that same smile still in place.

Easy.

Now, Eddie shoves his head into the fridge and reaches for the beers that have somehow gotten pushed to the back. “It’s nothing major, okay?” he calls back towards the living room.

“Eddie…” Gareth calls back, an edge to his voice.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m on it.” Eddie waves vaguely, making sure to grab a second beer. “Anyway, Steve’s a good friend, and he’s really hot, and we’re just having fun.”

The bang of the front door against the frame startles Eddie so badly he nearly smacks his head on the underside of the freezer as he stands, a beer clutched in each hand like he might be able to use them as projectiles.

There is no threat, though – just Steve, who had apparently failed to catch the screen door before it had shut too quickly behind him. He doesn’t seem to have noticed; he’s just standing there, staring at Eddie, color rising high in his cheeks, eyes wide and shocked, like he’s just been slapped.

Concern wells up from Eddie’s gut, and he opens to his mouth to ask what’s wrong when Steve finally speaks.

“Yeah,” he croaks, “I’m not having fun.”

Eddie’s brows furrow in confusion, the beginnings of cold dread trickling into his veins well ahead of any conscious thought.

“I think I– I think I should go,” Steve says.

He grabs his keys from the side table by the door, where they’ve lived next to Eddie’s and Wayne’s for the last few months whenever he’s been at the house, and then he’s gone again, the screen door banging shut once more behind him.

And Eddie has no idea what just happened, but he knows it wasn’t good. He drops the beers on the counter and bolts out the door after Steve.

Steve is nearly to his car by the time Eddie scrambles down the front steps, and he’s paying absolutely no attention when Eddie calls after him.

“Steve,” Eddie tries again, stumbling to a stop right behind him as he jams his keys into the driver’s side lock. “Steve, for fuck’s sake, what–” he reaches out, wrapping one hand around Steve’s bicep, and Steve jerks out of his grip.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Steve snaps.

Eddie pulls his hand back, but doesn’t step away, entirely baffled by the sudden turn the evening has taken. “What the hell happened back there?”

Steve goes still, grip going lax on his keys. “I heard what you said, Eddie.”

“About – about what? Are you mad I was talking to them about us sleeping together? Because, Steve, they already knew,” Eddie insists, a little incredulous. “You said you were fine with them knowing! You were practically feeling me up in front of them!”

“I don’t give a shit if they know we’re having sex!” Steve hisses, finally whirling around to look at Eddie. “I meant the rest. About how I’m not the kind of guy you have a relationship with.”

Eddie’s stomach sinks. He hadn’t realized that was such a sensitive subject. “I – shit, I wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings, I just didn’t think you wanted–”

“About how we’re just having fun,” Steve cuts in, and if he’d sounded raw before, his voice is practically ground down to nothing now.

That brings Eddie up short. “…aren’t we?” he asks after a moment.

Steve says nothing.

“I mean, shit, Steve, it’s not like we’re in a relationship,” Eddie says, offering a little laugh, because even Steve would have to admit that the idea is a little silly.

Except.

Except Steve just glances away, staring at the ground beside Eddie’s feet, and – oh, shit.

“Oh, shit.”

Steve is still unnervingly silent, one arm curled around his middle while the other hand comes up to pinch briefly at the bridge of his nose. He still won’t look at Eddie.

“You… you thought we were,” Eddie says dumbly, and Steve shrugs.

“Can you blame me? We spend all our time together, Eddie. I’m here more than I’m at my own house, I think I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve slept in my own bed in the last month. We go out and do things together, I try to keep things nice around the house because I want Wayne to like me, we have, like, a lot of sex, and– we… I mean, we kiss and touch and just – do shit like that even when it doesn’t lead anywhere.” Steve shrugs helplessly, finally looking up. “I mean, Christ, Eddie, what did you think we were doing?”

“I thought we were friends!” Eddie insists. Steve throws him an incredulous look and Eddie amends, “With benefits!”

“Right.” Steve’s expression flattens back out, going cold and hard and unlike anything Eddie’s become used to from him. “Because I’m not the kind of guy you’d want to have a relationship with.”

“I said that because I thought you didn’t want to be in a relationship!” Eddie snaps. “It’s not like you stay with anyone for very long, so I just assumed you didn’t want to be with anyone.”

Some of the ice retreats from Steve’s face, leaving a watering kind of hurt in its stead. “Do you listen to me at all when I talk?”

“What? Of course I do!” Eddie might have gotten turned around in certain respects, but he will not have his merits as a friend called into question; of course he listens to Steve.

“Are you sure? Because I talk about you an awful lot. I talk about doing things with you, about doing things in the future with you,” Steve says pointedly, “about how I want to stay with you.”

And Eddie had wanted Steve to stay with him, too. He’s just been thinking – well, he’d thought it was because they get along so well, that Steve had wanted to stick around. That it had only made sense.

“We never talked about… being anything else,” Eddie says, the protest a little weak even to his own ears. “I’m pretty sure I’d remember that.”

Steve pulls a sharp breath in, pinching at the bridge of his nose again; he leaves his hand there this time, eyes scrunched shut. “Just a few days ago, I told you how much I liked being with you. How good and how easy it felt compared to anyone else I’ve ever been with,” he says, barely more than a rough whisper. “And you said…”

I like being with you, too.

Eddie had said that.

He’d meant that he likes being around Steve, likes being his friend, definitely likes having sex with him, but he’d said it while combing his fingers through Steve’s hair, while cuddled up with him in bed, and – okay, yes, he can see the mixed signals there. He can see where Steve might have gotten the idea that they didn’t have an arrangement, that they were just together.

“I– I didn’t mean–”

“Obviously,” Steve snaps, dropping his hand from his face and turning back towards his car.

Eddie tsks, frustrated, and reaches out to grab Steve’s wrist – not pulling, just trying to keep his attention.

“Don’t,” Steve warns him, pulling back from his grasp for a second time.

“I didn’t mean to lead you on,” Eddie tries desperately. “I really… I really didn’t.”

“Yeah. I can see that. But Eddie…” Steve is quiet for a moment, posture so tense and still that Eddie suspects he’s not even breathing. “I’m probably the best-qualified asshole around to tell you that you really have to fucking think about how what you’re doing affects the people around you.”

Somehow, that stings more than any screamed insult Steve could have thrown at him.

“Steve…”

“I’ll come get my shit out of your place tomorrow,” Steve says, low and sharp, before getting into his car and slamming the door behind him.

After that, Eddie has no choice but to step back or get run over, and he watches until Steve’s taillights are no longer visible.

He can hear the hissing of some whispered conversation just beyond the door as he trudges back up the front steps, but his friends fall conspicuously quiet the moment he steps inside.

“…hey,” Gareth finally ventures after several seconds of awkward, sticky silence.

“Hey,” Eddie says flatly.

“Do you… want us to stay?” Jeff asks.

Slowly, Eddie shakes his head. “I think I should… I need to– think about shit.”

The boys all nod, throwing him variously sympathetic glances and clapping him on the shoulder on their way out. Oliver pauses, as if he’s going to say something, but Gareth gives him a shove and gets him out the door before he has the chance. Probably for the best.

Eddie feels numb as he trudges back towards his room, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.

He flops down on his bed, face landing in a pillow that smells entirely too much like Steve’s shampoo. Probably because it’s on the side of the bed that Steve always takes. Next to the nightstand with the small stack of sports magazines that definitely aren’t Eddie’s. And the spare pair of glasses that also isn’t Eddie’s.

With a low tug in his gut, Eddie realizes how much of Steve’s stuff has crept into his room, into the trailer, into his life – how much Steve has become a part of his life, how much of Eddie’s day has been built around him, how much he’s come to lean on his presence, has come to want him there.

And Steve is going to take it all back sometime soon. Take all of his things away before he removes himself from Eddie’s life, too, because Eddie hadn’t been thinking and he hadn’t been careful and he hadn’t realized–

Eddie’s pretty sure he just broke up with Steve.

He’s also pretty sure he hadn’t wanted to.

His main consolation, as he curls up on his side, nose still buried in Steve’s pillow, is that as soon as Robin hears what happened (and she will hear, he has no doubt), she’ll probably come murder him.

At least he won’t have to wallow for long.

Part 2

[joonberriess]

⋆ TAGS — really soft and domestic, TW: this deals with postpartum depression, baby daddy!jk, soft lil kisses, insecure!oc, angsty as hell, this is more of a comfort fic, mentioned baby, oc rlly struggles but jk is super supportive, mentioned past pregnancy, this made me cry, soft hours, jk pampers his lovely gf, CANON AUUUU JK’S JUST JK HERE LMAO

⋆ WORD COUNT — 2.4 k

“vámonos a comer un heladito, tu princesita, cómprame cositas. en mis tacones casi todo el día, dame un foot-rub and ice out mi tobillo,”

Your eyes fluttered under the feeling of lips sliding across your forehead, eyelid, and nose. You hear Jungkook laughing quietly as he envelops you in his strong arms and tugs you close. His murmurs and pestering have you pulling a face in your sleep, nose scrunched cutely given the way he coos teasingly.

“What time is it?” You mumble softly and blankly stare back at him, eyes heavy from sleep.

“Noon.” This has you going stiff, “Relax baby, he’s okay your mom came early to pick him up.” He comfortingly strokes over your side and backside.

You sink back into the sheets and nod, “Why didn’t you wake me?” You mumble under your breath as your eyes flutter shut.

Jungkook pressed more gentle kisses to your forehead with a low rumble, “You need a break, figured maybe we could go out–do some shopping, go to that sushi place you’ve been dying to try.. That sounds good, yeah?” He murmurs.

You hum, “It does, feels like I haven’t been out in forever.”

He waits with a bated breath and smiles softly when you open your eyes and stare back with more clarity, all traces of sleep etched away. “You’re so pretty, y’know that?” He brushes a strand of hair out of your face.

A subtle heat rises in your cheeks as you smile back, “Even with baby barf and spit all over my shirt?”

“The prettiest.” He leans over to kiss your nose, looking into your eyes with a twinkle in his own. He looks at you like you’ve just hung the stars for him.

Shyly, you press a soft smooch to his lips before flopping flat on your back with a sigh, “The fridge’s nearly empty isn’t it?” You mumble, “I’m sorry, I meant to go the other day but I ended up—”

“You’re fine, it’s okay. You know I’m here too right?” Jungkook reaches over to hold your hand, “Don’t worry about it baby, you’ve got your hands full right now and I get it. ‘s okay to ask for help too.”

You look at him with a soft smile, “I love you.” You lay a quick kiss on his cheek and roll out of bed to head to the bathroom.

Jungkook huffs, “Only one? On the cheek too..” He grumbles like a petulant child, sitting up in the messy sheets tangled around his hips and his bare chest out for your viewing.

“Get ready, it was YOUR idea to go out too so don’t make us late.” You fondly roll your eyes, you can hear him whine about something else behind you as the door shuts.

“…..” You pass in front of the body length mirror, pausing for a moment to observe your appearance. Your hands come up to rest over your tummy as you stare long and hard. “…”

You better get ready.

.

“y/n.”

“y/n?”

You snap out of your daydream and look over at Jungkook curiously, “Yeah?”

“I asked if you wanted to check out the fruits, it’s strawberry season and I’m sure they brought out all the fresh stuff.” Jungkook doesn’t seem at all bothered by the fact that you’ve spaced out for a second time since entering the store.

You shake your head, “I don’t like strawberries.” You say disinterestedly.

‘But you ate them your whole pregnancy, what’s wrong now?’ Your brain is screaming at you to just say yes and deal with it but you can’t.

He gives a soft hum, “That’s fine. Is there anything you wanted to get?” He steers the shopping cart away from the fruits, leading you down an aisle filled with spices and other cooking ingredients.

“Um, what was that thing you bought last time? When you made that white stew.” You scrunch your nose, “Ugh I forgot.”

“Ohh, you mean the cream stew mix? Uhh I think it’s down this aisle lemme check.” Jungkook leaves the cart with you as he trails down the aisle looking up, down, and around.

You pick out a few things to try out later on and happily make your way over. “Did you find it?” You curiously peek over his shoulder, damn near yelling because he shoots back up with a ‘ah-ha!’.

“What?” He innocently says after noticing the scowl on your face.

“You scared me.” You huff and punch his arm gently, “C’mon, I wanna get some chips and the aisle is back that way.” Jungkook happily trails after you, telling you all about his upcoming Calvin Klein campaign.

.

“Look,” Jungkook snorts as he holds up a pair of lace g-strings, “you mean to tell me this tiny triangle covers your entire pus–”

“Jungkook!” You hiss quietly after noticing a few older women turn their heads, “Put those down.” You snatch the panties away and toss them back into their respective drawers.

He cheekily grins and picks up another pair of underwear, “What? I didn’t do anything, I was just asking.” He chuckles.

“You are so dumb.” You giggle quietly, “Stop!! You’re going to get us kicked out, I thought I had one baby not two.”

“But babyy this is so boring, jus’ a bunch of girlie stuff and these women keep lookin’ at me like I’m a creep but I swear I’m just trying to help you.” He pouts.

You shake your head fondly, “Here, go find something to buy or do while I finish up here.” His eyes light up and he presses a messy smooch to your cheek before practically sprinting out.

Your eyes slowly turn over to the mannequin sitting tall on the platform donned in a new lingerie set. You stare at it for what seems like eternity while the world goes on about their day around you. Eventually a staff comes to break you out of your bubble.

“Is everything okay miss? Were you interested in our new spring collection?”

“Oh, um yeah, well I’m trying to surprise my boyfriend you know? I don’t know if he’ll like it ‘n stuff.” You murmur softly, eyes lowered and averted from the mannequin.

“Mmm.. what do you like?”

“Silk, maybe a babydoll or teddy..? I think.” You can’t stomach the idea of wearing a two piece, because then that means your….

“We have just the set then, we got a ton of new items for this spring. ” She grins while leading you away.

When you come out of the store, Jungkook’s barely walking back. He has this goofy little smile on his face as he stops in front of you, barely containing his excitement. “Guess what.”

“What did you do?” You giggle softly and eye the bag in his hand.

“I got this for you.” He brings out a large shirt and holds it up proudly, “It says: Best Milf Ever.”

You stare at the words with disbelief and then you’re breaking out into uncontrollable laughter. People around you look in curiosity but you can’t stop, you feel like you’re about to pee from how hard you’re laughing.

And Jungkook?

He stands there with a fond smile, gazing at you lovingly as he puts the shirt back, “You like it?”

You haven’t laughed nor felt this much joy in a while. “I love it.”

.

After having dinner Jungkook takes you out for ice cream. You were a bit burnt out from being out all day so you waited in the car while he went inside to buy the ice cream.

You think back to everything that happened today, it feels nice. You make a mental note to ask Jungkook to take you to a cat cafe sometime later on in the week. “Oh my god.” You mutter in embarrassment.

Jungkook’s walking back with a monstrosity of a ice cream sundae and then your perfectly NORMAL scoop of sherbet with gummies on top. “Jungkook what is all that mess?” You whine.

“What? I wanted triple chocolate with sprinkles and fudge.” He slips into the car and hands the small bowls over, “C’mon you gotta try it.”

“Hell no! This looks like it can either send me to do number three or I’m gonna puke my guts out.” You hiss.

“Number three doesn’t exist, nice try.” Jungkook scoffs softly while pulling out of the parking lot.

“It does now.” You mumble, ignoring his loud laughter.

You can’t hide the face you make while Jungkook eats that horrendous dessert. He doesn’t even care that you’re judging him as he happily watches his little Netflix show he’s been yapping about as of lately.

“I knew it, it was her all along..” He mutters to himself as he eats a large spoonful of ice cream.

“I’m going to the kitchen, you want anything?” You can’t take it anymore as you stand abruptly and pass by.

“No.”

You put your ice cream away and drink a glass of water in the kitchen. You enjoy the peace and quiet, it’s been a cool minute since you’ve had some time to yourself. Between caring for a newborn and balancing your everyday life, shit’s been hard.

Not that Jungkook doesn’t help, but sometimes you feel like you put too much on him. He says he doesn’t care but.. you do.

With a heavy sigh you leave the cup in the sink and trail over to your bedroom. The dainty lingerie bag sits on the corner of the bed, you have yet to try it on but you don’t know..

“Fuck it.” You mutter while stripping down and slipping on the pretty babydoll top and matching thong to go with it.

The soft pink and silky smooth feeling of it has you smiling to yourself over how pretty it is on you. The set even came with a robe so you slipped that on too and tied it securely around your waist before heading back out to show your lover.

“Jungkook.” You call out, “What do you think?”

He pauses his show and looks over, his eyes visibly glaze over as he takes you in from head to toe. “Pretty, I like it—pink suits you.” He beckons you over.

Right, he thinks it’s just a robe.

You walk over with a soft hum and stand between his legs, “I got something else, it’s under.”

His eyes darken and he licks his lips, “Can I?” His hands hover over the sash. You can’t help but shiver with the way he looks at you like he wants to eat you alive. Makes you feel hot.

“Yeah..” Your voice comes out breathier than usual, a hint of excitement underlying your tone.

Jungkook unties the knot and slowly pulls your robe off. “Fuck.” He whispers when he sees the pretty babydoll underneath, he gets a peek at your thong too and he’s nearly drooling.

“Shit baby you look so fuckin’ pretty, look at you,” he gently twirls you around with a low whistle.

His hand hovers over your ass, not quite touching but there. You gently pull his hands closer with a soft, “You can touch.” You murmur.

Jungkook audibly gulps and grabs a fistful of your babydoll, he lifts it up enough to slip his hands around both cheeks. He gives both doughy cheeks a tight squeeze before he’s jiggling it in the palms of his hands.

“Can I baby?” He asks softly, “I wanna take you to bed.” To that you nod.

Before you can get another word out, he abruptly stands and hauls you up into his strong arms. You squeal in shock and hit his shoulders, “Jungkook..! Put me down!” You whine.

“No.” Jungkook smirks as he lands a sharp smack to your ass, “Let me take care of you yeah? Just sit ‘n look pretty for me.” He carries you down the hall and kicks the door open, gently tossing you onto the center of the bed.

You bounce back on the mattress with a soft ‘oof’, he doesn’t let up because he’s already crawling over you and landing a sweet yet heated kiss on your lips. You wrap your arms around him and hug him close, enjoying the soft touches.

Jungkook takes his sweet time kissing you, the kiss is slow and his touches are light and feathery. He holds you like you’re made of glass or something, gently cupping your hips and massaging them. It tugs on your poor heart strings and you find yourself tearing up for no reason..?

He pulls away with a soft pant, pressing his forehead to your own as he stares into your eyes with devotion. “Why are you crying baby? Hm? Why’s my pretty girl sad?” He wipes your tears with his thumbs.

“B-Because, you’re so good to me.” You softly hiccup, “Feel safe with you.”

He brushes your hair out of your face and smooches your nose, “Yeah, what else baby. Talk to me.” He murmurs patiently while cupping the side of your cheek.

“You don’t make me feel alone.” You whisper, and his heart breaks seeing you this vulnerable, “I-I know I haven’t been there for you b-but with the baby and–”

“And who said you needed to take care of me? You already have enough with the baby, you spent nine months carrying our baby and you worked hard to bring him into the world my love. Makes me proud of you baby, strongest girl I know.” He softly smiles.

Your heart races and you feel a knot in your throat as you continue listening to him, “You’re going to be okay—we’re okay. You know I’m always going to be right here for whatever you need, you’re doing so good my love.”

You let out a soft sob and bury your face in his shoulder. These past two months of silently struggling with coming to terms of your newfound motherhood and changes with your relationship finally come to a stop. You feel good knowing that Jungkook is so understanding and supportive.

For a while you thought you were going insane, that it was your fault and you were a horrible mother for feeling so…bad.

Even when you were bedridden for days, void of any life and emotion, Jungkook is still here.

“I love you.” Jungkook whispers.

“I love you too.” You sniffle.

Jungkook helps you slip into one of his shirts as the two of you cuddle for the rest of the night watching silly rom-coms. You know the future will be okay.

Everything is okay.

TAGLIST: @fragmentof-indifference @jungkooksseuphoria @kooliv @angelarin @jjeonjjk7 @lilliankoo @pb-n-juju @ellesalazar @saweetspoiled @laylasbunbunny @prettyprincejk @cherrysainttt @hyunjinswifeee @joongraduatewithonor @hellbornsworld @leire-mia @m1sss1mp @lissful @winkii @lifeless-firefly @exactlygreatcoffee @taestoess @ayalies @floweryjeons @softtcurse @lilspinachwrld @tearyjjeon @littleobsessedkitty @lovelovelovebts @angeljmnie @rerefundslocals @bangtans-mama @thvhoe @maddkitt @tvse @ohjeon @teteswtnr @jkslovey12 @kelsyx33 @milfpo1ice @sluttydidi @ztyur @beomgyuult @shescharlie @sweet-sourhotcoco @lalita-7 @hazzzelsdimension @p34rluv @kook-net @bonita0-0 @vmapy @dahliadaenerys @frieschan @lilyflowerguk @sayokodiary @babycandy111 @looneybleus @ash07128 @gyukookswhore @rrosiitas

[yanderenightmare]

tomura with hero reader whose quirk he's stolen, rendering them defenseless

Shigaraki Tomura

TW: slight nsfw, implied prev noncon, captive reader, Stockholm syndrome, implied mental break, mental deterioration, disassociation, manipulation, angsty, but also weirdly fluffy? reader is super fragile

gn reader

The chub of your inner thighs is still wet with the act. You rub them together for no other reason than that it feels pleasant. You trace the awful scars on his arm, using his warm chest as a pillow—the sound beating of his heart thumping rhythmically at your ear, a soothing presence.

 He balances a red book atop your crown.

He doesn’t seem very interested in reading it—only regarding it with jaded eyes, a meager scoff then and there before turning the page. But still, even though the book didn’t excite him, it bothered you that his attention was elsewhere. It sowed the seeds of doubt and gave root to way too many intrusive thoughts, sprouting out and spreading like weeds throughout your mind, making your chest curl at the possibilities.

“Do you think I'm ugly?” you have to ask. You have to know, why isn’t he looking at you.

He pans away from the page, beady garnet eyes softening from scrutiny to nonplus.

Your question stunted him—nearly made him believe he’d heard you wrong. Why someone like you would ever ask someone like him something like that seemed beyond all reason. It would be the same if a flower asked gravel.

But then again, you’d become a little ditzy as of late. Or maybe you’d been so for a little while already. It’s hard to say—you don’t talk as much as you used to. You no longer scream either, though that had ceased even longer ago.

You continue to delicately run your finger over the tear where his tough skin meets the even tougher purple tissue as though mapping the damage. There’s a frown on your face. No, not a frown—a pout. 

He thought for a moment to use it against you like he’d done everything else so far. Lie and say yes, tell you you’re about as ugly as he is—gravel—make you fall even further apart than what you were already. But something compelled him to choose differently.

“I think you're the prettiest thing in the world.”

Your pout is sucked between your teeth as you pick yourself up to peer down at him—eyes round and misty and something more, something strange—dare he say joyed?

You're scaring him.

“Really?” you choke out as if you’d been holding back a lump.

He hasn’t known how to treat you lately. You’ve become too soft to handle poorly—too frail to harass and too willing for him to feel the need to. Earlier, you'd even begged him to fuck harder and deeper—even cum inside. Actually, you hadn't veered away from his touch in a while. More like you've been embracing it.

He'd brushed it off as mere compliance at first, a state of meekness, weakened by being touch-starved, something that perhaps developed into a minor case of Stockholm syndrome.

But the way you're acting now—seems more concerning.

“Yeah,” is all he warrants as an answer. Though, he was curious as to yours as he begs the same question, “What about me?”

A smile graces your face then—there’s a comfort to it, a mild and affectionate one, unexaggerated, honest, as you smoothly swing your leg over his lap.

A look like that has no place on your face, especially when regarding him, and yet he finds himself hoping for more. He lays his book aside as you lean forward and doesn't stop you when you cup his face in both your palms.

“As far as I'm concerned, you’re not just the prettiest boy in the world—you're the only boy in the world.” You say it with a kiss, lips just as soft as the words leaving them. It shocks him, though he accepts and gives it back.

You close your eyes, laying your chest against his—he keeps his open to look at you. Observing and assessing.

You’ve truly become a whole other person altogether. A far cry from the tough hero you once were—the one who’d beat him within an inch of his life and leave him to choke on the blood.

“Will you stay with me today?” you ask against his lips—playing with his hair, looping the curly tresses around your fingers.

There’s a neediness to your voice, a certain desperation, a sadness—something lonely and something that reminds him all too much of himself. He feels both a strong urge to reject and soothe it all at the same time.

“No, I gotta go,” he says despite it. He had business.

You hide your face in his neck and continue with your tracing, now on the scrapes striping his throat where he’s raked his nails time and time again. “When will you come back?” Your tone comes out even sweeter, only a murmur mushed against his skin.

It nearly makes his heart twist. “It’s better I don’t answer that.”

It’s funny. Though the thought had struck him, he didn’t gauge any ill intentions. You could be asking, acting, plotting some escape based on the hours of his absence—yet somehow, with the way you nuzzle into him like that, as though you’re pouring your all-too-candid grief into him, he can't sense any other ulterior motive.

“Last time you left at this hour, you came back all beaten and bruised,” you mutter, now with a hint of bitterness—as if you’re cursing whoever hurt him under your breath.

It’s ironic. He sneers lazily, almost fondly, at the old memory. “You’re the one who used to beat and bruise me, remember?”

He’s truly curious if you do. Or if something’s spirited your past life away and left you like this—no longer an aspiring young hero, but something whose only value is warming his bed at night.

You arise, an appalled look of affront upon your face.

“No, that can’t be right,” you very nearly cry, as if the very thought was killing you. “I would never hurt you—I love you too much.”

Apparently, you don’t remember who you were at all.

“Love me?” he all but croaks. It’s a laughable prospect, and yet he doesn’t even smile. There’s something awful in his gut that prevents him. “Don't be stupid. You can't love me.”

Your face doesn’t drop its grimace, only further tears with forlorn outrage. “Of course, I love you!" you insist. "You’re my whole reason for living...”

You look so despaired—wrecked from his dismissal. The tears well quickly then slip down your face just as fast—and yet it isn’t the same crying as you used to. This time, it’s quiet—in wait or in dread as you beg the question, 

“Don't you love me?”

It’s an unexpected one, and it quickly proves to be an existential one—even more so than your unnerving confession. Despite not wanting to, it leaves him to dig through the muck in his head he’d long ignored, down in the dark where he’d tried burying the truth he'd felt oncoming. He'd wanted to deny it, reject it, amend it, simply because it confused him too much to acknowledge—complicated things—changed things he didn’t want or need changing.

He wonders if it’s somehow proof of fate—even though he despises such a concept. That, no matter how much you practice free will, no matter how many knots you make upon the red string, the world will pull and straighten it out, and you’re left to realize you’d brought it all on yourself.

First, he took your quirk, then he took your body—your mind shortly followed—and now it seems he’s managed to take your heart, too. 

There’s nothing left of you that isn’t his. 

There was a time he’d frolic at the thought of having reduced you to such a pathetic ghost in a shell—back then, he’d do anything to destroy you—he’d surely shatter you into a million little scattered pieces if presented with the chance, make sure you were broken for good. 

But that was the old him. Or rather, that was his dream for the old you—the hero he loathed down to his rotten core.

But the pretty misty-eyed thing looking down at him now, aching for his answer, wasn’t that person anymore.

And the truth is, the person you are now scares him more than that hero ever did. 

You were… well, you were the person who warms his bed at night, the person who traces his scars and plays with his hair—the person who wraps themselves around him and keeps him from falling apart when he stumbles through the door into the tiny little room he keeps you a prisoner in. You're his.

This time, his heart does twist. He’s never before spoken the words that dance on his tongue, or if he has, they’ve been long forgotten and come out as dust balls as he affirms them now, 

“Yes. I love you.”

There’s a flash of hope in your eyes, though it just as quickly diminishes—as if you don’t believe him.

Your lip warbles as you confirm it, “No, you don’t.”

More tears run silently down the tracks on your cheeks, gathering at the tip of your chin before dripping upon his chest—each one like a gunshot through something hollow.

“If you did, you wouldn’t go. You wouldn’t leave me here in this room, all alone.” Your nails curl into your palms where they rest atop him. You bow your head as though you can’t bear to look at him, as if it hurts. The next words come out beneath your breath, “How am I supposed to compete with the whole world?”

You’re making him feel like dying. The continuous twists of his heart feel as if you’re about to tear it right out of his chest.

He sits up and lifts your face. It’s strange, even with his two-finger gloves on. He doesn’t think he’s ever held you like this. Though, suppose it’s been a night of many firsts already. And here comes another,

“As far as I’m concerned, you are my world.”

There you are, the one thing he doesn’t wish to destroy.

Your sore eyes become round, then swell with different tears. There’s a hitch in your breath as you sigh through a shuddering sob, throwing your arms around his neck and clinging to him tightly—your body jostling while you rub your wet face into his neck, holding him close for comfort as if you're scared to ever let go.

He returns the gesture, though somewhat hesitantly, wrapping his arms around you and laying his head to rest against your shoulder.

And then, as he holds you—for the first time ever, fear of actually losing the fight ahead strikes him.

He hadn’t much cared about the outcome before. Either he’d destroy or be destroyed.

This wasn’t as simple. As said earlier, this complicated things.

But then again, it was even more of a reason to go.

“But I still have to leave.” 

You part from him—the betrayal in your tone demanding his justification, “Why?”

Suppose, in some ways, this actually made things simpler—as that was a question he had no problem answering.

“‘Cause there are monsters outside…” He rests his forehead upon yours, gazing back into those terribly glassy eyes looking back at him as he speaks to you about your dear old colleagues. “Monsters who want nothing but to take you away from me.”

If only they could see you now, they’d know… you no longer want to leave him.

“So I have to go out there and make sure they have no chance,” he explains, almost like a vow, “You’re mine, and I’ll destroy anyone who says otherwise to keep you that way.”

The way your eyes melt makes him feel all fuzzy. It’s a special type of glee, a victory before the battle even begins—to see you root for him—so deep in love with him that you’ve forgotten you’re celebrating the onset of death to all of your former friends.

They probably wouldn’t be able to take you away from him even if they somehow managed to invade this very room. You’d sooner die than betray him.

And that makes him feel all the more ready for the war ahead.

“So kiss me good luck, and I’ll come right back to you soon.”

♡ SHIGARAKI TOMURA ♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA masterlist

[cameronspecial]

i can send a few if you want.

because i liked I boy by sabrina carpenter

rafe's "ex" hasn't moved on, they weren't really dating she fell in love but he didn't. six months later he's head over heels in love with reader, there's comes in the song and rafe reassures her she isn't a homewrecker or a slut. just fluffy rafe with that angsty song

Who I Am

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Derogatory Name Calling

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.5K

Masterlist

Y/N groans as she sees another piece of paper under her windshield wiper. The pink colour clues her in on what it is about. For the past week, she has been finding threatening notes on rose stationery everywhere she goes. At first, they started out as simple statements. He isn’t yours. You stole him. Then they escalated to calling her names. You’re a homewrecking bitch. He was mine, Slut. She tries to pretend they haven’t gotten to her, but she’s gotten so many that they could fill a semi-truck and they slowly begin to get under her skin. Her hand grabs the new note, opening it with one hand. “We were going to get married until you came along, Homewrecker,” she reads herself. She has told Rafe about them, not thinking it is important enough to concern him. However, this note in particular gets to her. She doesn’t know why she believes the note; she just gets an unsettling feeling about it. Her mind runs wild with the thought of Rafe waiting at the altar for another woman and then she comes into the picture and stops the whole celebration. 

The paper is shoved into her back pocket and she gets into her car to head home. Rafe is waiting for her at home with a wide grin. When she doesn’t return the happiness, he frowns. “What’s wrong, Sweet Pea?” he worries, rushing to bring her into his arms. Her bottom lip rests between her teeth, “I need to show you something.” He doesn’t object as she takes his hand and drags her to their room. She grabs something from under her bed, pulling out a box. The notes are revealed once she opens them. She hands them over to him for him to read. Silence falls in the room as he reads through them. His mouth purses and she sees him bite the inside of his mouth. 

“When did you start getting these?” he questions. She picks out the first one, “Last week. Do you know who sent them? Is what they say true? Is that who I am?” He drops the paper and steps closer to her, enveloping her in a hug. His lips pepper her face in kisses. “No. No. No,” he disagrees. “You aren’t a homewrecker or a slut.” “Then why is she saying these things?” she cries, starting to grow frustrated. He caresses the back of the head and leads her to sit on the bed. “I went out on a couple of dates with Tiffany about a year ago and then she fell head over heels for me. I broke up with her when she started planning our wedding after our third date. She didn’t take it well,” he explains. She looks at him through wet lashes, “So you didn’t cheat on her with me or break up with her because of me?” He wipes the tears from her eyes and runs his thumb over her cheekbones. “I didn’t. I will admit. You may not be my first love, but you are my favourite and my last.” She sighs at his confirmation and relaxes in his hold. Even though they have only been dating for six months, she has to admit that she is madly in love with him and she is glad she didn’t take him from someone else. “Now, how about we go stargaze on the trampoline while listening to the Black Eyed Peas,” he proposes, steering her to the backyard. It’s true, they are both smitten with each other and they spent the night cuddled under the stars.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura @rubixgsworld

[garbinge]

Clean Cut

Tim Bradford x F!Nurse!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of bullets, war, shrapnel, anxiety, worry, car accidents. Slightly angsty. 

Word Count: 1.2k 

A/N: Okay so I just caught up with all The Rookie seasons and I’m just LIVING for Chenford. Like LIVING. buuuuuut I noticed there wasn’t much Tim x Reader fic out there soooooo I figured why not! This idea came to my head at some point when I was watching and I also have like a whole story of their life beyond and before this moment but enjoy this little reworked snippet from 2x08. 

The Rookie Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics​

It had felt like a long day already and you had only been clocked in at the hospital for two hours. You still had 10 hours left in your shift and it felt like you experienced a whole day’s worth already. Being a corpsman for a Marine squad prepared you for a lot but sometimes the uniqueness of LA and the people who resided in it and tended to need your RN medical services at St. Stevens ran you for your money. 

Currently, you were updating patient charts during the lull that was likely to last all of two seconds but it beat staying an extra hour to finish your paperwork likely unpaid because the hospital rarely approved overtime for RNs. 

“Wanna tell me why it’s so crazy for a Tuesday?” 

The statement from your coworker caused you to look at them over your shoulder and let out a laugh. 

“I wish I had an answer to that, but I also feel like anything I say will jinx it even more.” You pushed the computer cart against the wall and moved over to your coworkers cart. “You’ve got like 15 pages here, what is this?” You picked up the manila folder that was larger than your normal ER patient folders. 

“Police car accident. There’s a few of them in the ER right now, these things always include tons of paperwork. Everyone needs to cover their asses.” 

Your heart started to beat faster at the mention of a police accident but what really caused you to go into panic mode was seeing your husband's name on the report. 

Before you could even answer your co-worker you were moving down the stairs, knowing the elevator would take too long. You knew the elevator would probably be quicker but the thought of standing still while you waited for and in it would drive your mind crazy so rushing down the stairs was the better alternative. 

Tim was sitting on one of the ER beds, the scene of it caused you to stop for a minute. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen Tim hurt waiting to be treated. In all honesty this was probably the tamest medical treatment scenario you two had been in together. He looked fine from afar, but that didn’t stop the worry from boiling in your gut. 

“What happened?” You were next to him within seconds, the worry being the fuel of moving you from the staircase entrance to his side in seconds. 

“I rear ended a civilian.” Tim knew better than to try and calm you down with pleasantries and relaxing mantras. 

“Jesus.” Your hand moved to your pocket in search of your pen light. Quickly, you flashed it in front of his eyes, searching for his eyes to constrict and then dilate when you moved the light away. 

“They already did this.” Tim’s voice was neutral, but you knew he was annoyed. 

“Humor me.” Your head tilted, now your own annoyance was clear to him. 

His eyes softened as they met yours and he nodded which gave you the okay to keep running through the trauma checklist in your head. 

“This isn’t like you.” Tim said after a few minutes of silence between you as he humored you by lifting up his arms as you pressed down on his ribs and checked his reflexes. 

“In what way?” You talked as you continued to look him over. 

“I’ve come home and told you I’ve gotten shot at and you barely react, I tell you that I got into a car accident and you’re acting like I have internal bleeding.” Tim’s eyebrows raised. 

“Did they do a CT scan? You could have internal bleeding. Especially if the airbags went off.” 

“Doc.” The use of the nickname only 13 people in the world knew you as caused you to stop your examination of Tim and stand in front of him, slightly defeated. 

“If I worried about every close call you encounter everyday, I’d be dysfunctional. This.” You pointed towards him and the bed, “This is tangible. This actually happened.” 

Tim nodded and a smirk slightly filled his face. 

“You doubtin’ me, Sarge?” You frowned as you asked him, using your own nickname for him. 

“No,” Tim let out a chuckle and shook his head before looking back up at you. “I know better than to ever doubt you.” 

“Smart man.” Officer Lopez walked up to the two of you with a smile. “How’s he doin’?” She looked between the both of you. 

“He’s fine. No signs of a concussion,” you looked at Angela and then back at Tim, “and no signs of internal bleeding.” You smirked at him knowing he was going to give you one back. 

“Give us a minute, Lopez?” Tim stood up and ripped the hospital bracelet off his wrist. 

“Yea, just wanted to let you know the break lights were cut in the car you hit, foul play, you’ll likely be in the clear.” She explained while looking at the both of you, relief coming as a sigh from both you and Tim. “I’ll be in the lobby.” She nodded at him and squeezed your arm to say goodbye before leaving the ER. 

“We goin’ back to the conversation we were having or a new one?” You asked Tim as he towered over you. 

“You pulled shrapnel out of my abdomen in Afghanistan and you look more worried checking me for a concussion.” Tim said with his arms crossed. “What’s going on?” 

“Nothing.” Your one worded answer wasn’t convincing.

“Don’t lie to me.” Tim said more seriously than any of his other statements. 

You sighed, “Like I said, this is tangible. In Afghanistan, we weren’t exactly given the space to worry. Here, I feel like it’s all I have to hold onto. But again, if I held onto every worry I’d be dysfunctional. I know you can handle yourself when bullets are flying, when shit goes sideways, it’s these out of your control scenarios that just get me flustered.” You explained moving your hands around as you talked. 

Tim brought you in for a hug, knowing nothing he’d say could change anything. “You do realize, I’m the one that rear-ended the civilian, not the other way around, right? Totally in my control.” He teased you. 

“Not according to Angela.” You corrected him and he chuckled. 

“I’ll see you tonight.” He placed a quick kiss on the top of your head. 

“See you tonight, I already texted Angela all the concussion signs in case we missed anything.” Letting your last bit of worry out. 

“You haven’t missed a single diagnosis or injury since I met you, Doc!” He called out from a few feet from you. 

“You know, I’m technically not a doc, anymore, Sarge!” You yelled out to him. 

He turned around with his arms up as he continued to walk backwards. “And I’m not technically a Sargeant anymore.” 

“Old habits die hard!” You yelled back just before the elevator doors opened and he stepped backwards into the elevator flashing you a quick smile before the doors closed and he was back on duty.