#Don't worry it's not that she doesn't like you it's that you sent a message in the way that their dead sibling would have | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

captain-huggy-bear · 4 months ago

Text

Priorities

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Illness/comfort

Summary: When Quinn gets a text from you 2 hours before his game, he shows where his priorities lie when he drops it all for you.

Series: Teacher Reader series

Notes: I am not very well atm and I had to drive home dizzy from work the other day, the idea of Quinn being there to help has been stuck in my head so have some self indulgence from me.

A kind of sequel to In Sickness and in Health but you don't need to read that to read this.

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

He's already at the rink getting ready for the game in the locker room when his phone goes off. You don't actually ring him, clearly doing that thing you always do where you're trying to not bother him on a game day, instead you send a quick text message. He expects the usual:

'Good luck on the game today, baby!'

Instead, the text he gets has him picking his phone up and calling you back in an instant, worry clouding his judgement and making his hands shake slightly.

'Hey, so guess who's being sent home because she's dizzy and can't breathe? I had my head between my legs for 20 minutes, definitely can't stand and teach. Have a good game x'.

You drop the good luck at the end like he's not supposed to be worried, like you've just casually told him about the weather and not that you we're struggling to breathe.

It doesn't really matter that Tocc is giving him the look, the one he reserves for when he's annoyed at the boys, or that half the locker room have stopped their own pre-game, pre-warm up routines to watch their captain frantically call you. He's pacing back and forth, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he waits for you to pick up the phone.

"Quinn?" You sound so incredibly breathless its like listening to an asthmatic 80 year old who's smoked for half their life. Except you don't smoke and you're not asthmatic or 80 which makes the whole situation about 10 times worse because you shouldn't be struggling to breathe. You should be doing better today.

You've been ill, he knows this, a chest infection he forced you to get meds for on the weekend. Meds which should have started working by now, a heavy dose of antibiotics and steroids which were supposed to have helped. You'd felt well enough this morning to go in and give work another go, but he regrets letting you do that now. Clearly trying to stand up in front of teenagers and talk was not something you should have been doing, not when the school day had only started half an hour ago and you were already being sent home.

"Baby, are okay?" You're sitting on the front steps of the school with all your things when you answer the phone to Quinn's worried voice. You keep telling yourself you just need a minute, just a minute and then you won't feel so dizzy, won't feel so breathless. Just a minute and the tingles in your fingers will go and your hands will stop shaking so much. Just a minute and then you can drive home and get into bed.

"Y-yeah, I'm...I'm just breathless. I'll be okay...they're...they're covering my...my lessons and..." You stop for a minute, taking big deep breathes, you sound so laboured on the phone that Quinn can't help but clench his phone tighter in his hand, "and I'm going home now." Your breaths are wheezy, just like Saturday, in fact he's certain you sound worse.

"How are you getting home?" He knows the answer before you say it and he hates it before he even hears it. You're dizzy and breathless and there is no way you should be driving home at all, but he knows you. Self-reliant to a fault, a martyr, always pushing yourself past the point of no return because you think you're fine, because you convince yourself you're fine. Because you don't want to inconvenience anyone or cause more problems. You ask to little of people around you, expecting barely anything despite all you give.

"I'm...I'm going to...to drive."

"No. You're not. I'm going to come get you." You want to protest a lot more than you do if you're being honest. But, you're so tired and it's so hard to breathe and students wandering in late to school are staring at you like you're having a break down. So your protests are relatively lacklustre by your usual standard. That actually worries him more.

"It's...there's like 2 hours before the game...you've...you've got warm ups soon." You hate the idea of him missing warm ups or god forbid the game, all because you were too stupid to realise you shouldn't have gone into work in the first place.

"So, I'll get you, take you home and come back to the rink and play. I'll walk to the school tomorrow and collect your car so you don't have to worry about it. But, you aren't driving, baby. If you even try to get in that car I will being fucking pissed. I love you, you do not get in that car." You know he's serious in that moment, not just because he's very rarely angry at you or anyone but himself, outside of the rink, but because he's got that clipped tone he only uses when he's serious. This isn't a request, it's a direct order and you have no intention of disobeying it, not when you know he's right...not when it makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside that he's so insistent about your wellbeing.

"But, what...what if you miss warm ups?" He loves how much you support him and his hockey, he always will, but he hates that your first thought is that hockey should come first. His girlfriend can barely breathe right now and he quite honestly doesn't give a flying fuck if he misses warm ups. The team had to pull themselves together at some point and you came first. Always. If they couldn't manage warm ups without him then what was the point of paying them so much money?

"Warm ups aren't my priority, baby. You are. Do not get in the car. Do not drive. Do not move. I'm leaving right now, okay? Just sit on the steps of the school and take deep breaths." He's already grabbing his keys, not even bothering to change out of his gear other than putting some proper shoes on so that he can actually drive. He knows it'll spark some speculation and rumours, Captain of the Canucks storming out of the arena 2 hours before puck drop in full gear except his skates, but he doesn't fucking care about that right now.

"...Okay...thank you, Quinny. I love you." You say it because in that moment you have never felt so loved, to have someone drop everything, something so important, to come get you...Maybe its the meds, maybe its the breathlessness, the infection, but you feel like crying a little because of how sweet he is even when he's bossing you about.

"I'll see you soon, baby. I love you too."

He doesn't waste time once he hangs up, just turns straight to Tocc and tells him, "I'll be back."

The look he gets is a mixture of disbelief, frustration and confusion and he really can't blame Tocc for it. Not when Quinn is the captain, the player that seems to make a massive difference on the ice, and he's about to run out the doors 2 hours before the game? Yeah, he knows Tocc doesn't want to hear it.

"Quinn, where you going? We have a game in 2 hours?!" He knows he's going to be cutting it fine with Vancouver traffic and getting to your school, the apartment and back to the arena, but he's not letting you drive. He could live with missing a game, losing a game, but he couldn't live with himself if he let you drive home and something happened. His job was to look after you, if he failed at that? What was the fucking point?

"Tocc, I'll be back. I promise. But, right now my girlfriend is unable to breathe and dizzy and I'm not letting her drive home, okay? Sooner I leave, sooner I come back."

Maybe it's the insistence on Quinn's face, the reality that if he was forced to stay he wouldn't play well anyway. Maybe it's that you and Tocc get along and he can see a hint of concern in the other man's eyes or maybe Tocc just trusts him that much. But, he actually agrees to let him go. Not that Quinn could really be forced to stay. They'd have to tie him to the bench.

"Okay, I'm trusting you."

"Thanks."

Quinn ignores every single person he storms past, every employee, every fan outside, every person with a camera that starts asking him where he's going as he starts his car with one destination in mind. Maybe he seems rude, maybe he seems standoffish, but he doesn't really care because right now you are sat on the steps of a school struggling to breathe and he just wants to see you and get you home and into bed.

He doesn't even care that he knows Tocc is going to be questioned about his absence or that he can already hear his phone pinging with notifications from social media, most likely people asking where he was going and speculating.

'Just saw Quinn Hughes storm out of Rogers Arena in full gear, finally got fed up of his team?'

'Um, is anyone else panicking that Hughes just left the arena like 2 hours before puck drop?'

'Captain Lexapro has officially lost it with this team, just stormed out of the arena!!'

He tries his best not to break any traffic laws getting to you, despite the fact he has a lead foot that wants to press harder on the accelerator. But, he knows you'd hate it and you'd worry more about him getting a ticket, so he just grips the steering wheel tighter until he's turning into the school car park.

He doesn't try to park in a proper space, just pulls up as close to you as possible before hopping out. Your head is between your legs, shoulders rising and falling in laboured breaths and he feels like he's been punched in the stomach at how bad you sound.

"Oh, baby..." He's kneeling on the dirty ground within seconds and you try, through broken gasps to tell him he'll get his hockey socks dirty, but he doesn't listen to you, just reaches to pull you into a hug.

"Let's get you home, okay? Tomorrow we're going back to the doctors, okay?" You're leaning your head into his shoulder so heavily that he's worried you might actually pass out. It's like the moment his arms wrap around you, you just give up on holding yourself up. In truth, that's kind of what happens. You just want to lean into him, soak up the comfort of your boyfriend lighting petting your hair and whispering into your ear.

"Don't y-you have...practice?"

"I think I can fit the doctors in around practice, baby..." He doesn't tell you, but he'd forgo practice for you. He doesn't care about anything but how you're doing and you're not okay. Quinn can see that better than anyone.

"Alright, up you get..." He stands first, hands reaching for yours to help pull you to your feet. You sway before him like you're on a 16th century galleon in a thunderstorm, forehead plonking on his chest heavily, "Atta, girl. There we go." He just strokes your hair and back while you wait for the dizziness to pass, he knows each second will make him later to the arena but he's not going to rush you when you're struggling just to stand without fainting.

"Alright, let me get your stuff and then we'll take it one step at a time, baby, okay?"

"O..okay...one step...at a time." He tries his best not to let go of you completely as he bundles your work bag onto his shoulder. Quinn is as quick as he can be with it, before pulling you under his arm and helping you inch step by step towards the car.

It's slow going, every few steps you get a little dizzy and he waits for you to nod before he pushes you forward again. You're drained, dark circles under your eyes and skin losing some of its usual colour by the time you reach the car.

Quinn had purposefully pulled up the car with the passenger side facing you and you're thankful not to have to walk around the car as you brace yourself against the door for a moment. Quinn helps ease you into the seat, reaching over to put your seatbelt on for you and adjust the headrest so you can lean back. It eases some of the weight in your chest.

"Nearly home, okay, baby?"

You just nod, exhausted as his hands cup your cheeks tenderly, spreading a soft sort of affection through your already aching chest. He's so gentle as he looks down at you, fingers rubbing circles in your cheeks, but he looks so worried and you feel so guilty because he shouldn't have to be that worried.

"You've been so brave, baby, you're so brave...soon you'll be in bed and you can watch the game and sleep, okay?" He knows you'll want to watch the game if you're sat at home, mostly because you watch every game he plays even if its on catch up, but also because he knows it'll reassure you that he made it back in time.

You nod again, blinking up at him so tired that he can't help but frown.

"Atta, girl. My brave girl." The kiss Quinn presses to your forehead is short and sweet, not lingering but filling you with warmth and lightness even as he closes the door on you and gets into the driver's side.

You miss his comforting touch and as if he knows this, his hand reaches for your thigh at any given opportunity when it isn't in use to drive. The stability of it, the comfort of just having him there is so welcome and helps you to relax back into the seat as he drives.

It's just as hard work getting you into the apartment, thankful as ever that the elevator actually works, but once you're in, Quinn feels ten times lighter.

"Right, lets get you comfy, baby...you want one of my jerseys or a hoodie?"

"Jersey...the....the black one, please."

"Okay, sit down, there ya go, good girl.." He watches you the entire time from the corner of his eye, scared you'll lean too far forward from how you're hunched over on the edge of the bed. He tries to make the entire thing quick, reaching for his black jersey, the extra big one that he bought home because you liked how it dwarfed you and even dwarfed him.

"Arms up, baby..." He helps you out of your work blouse and your bra, slipping the jersey over the top quickly to avoid the shivers you start shaking with.

The worst part is getting you to your feet to get your bottoms off. Quinn helps you rise to your feet before kneeling in front of you, dragging your hands to his shoulders for support as he helps you inch out of the remainder of your work clothes. Your fingers grip his shoulders so tight that he's certain you might leave bruises but he doesn't really care, just happy to get you comfy and help you into bed.

You're bundled under as many blankets as he can find, plus the heated blanket you got at Christmas. A big jug of water beside the bed, snacks piled high because he is not having you try to go all the way to kitchen without supervision right now.

"You want the game set to go on?"

"Y...yes, please...wanna watch you play." He turns the television on, setting it to the NHL game set to go live in less than an hour now and he knows he's going to miss warm ups at this point. Tocc's probably blowing up his phone and he knows he's cutting it fine...but you look so small bundled up in bed and he actually hates the idea of leaving you alone. He hates not having his family near all the time as a general rule, but in that moment he hates it so much more. If his mum or dad had been near he could have asked Ellen or Jim to check in on you, instead you were going to be all alone and he hated it.

"I'll score for you, yeah? You can watch me score and maybe we'll win and then I'll come and make us dinner. That sound good, baby?"

"Perfect..." Quinn smooths your hair back from your face, tucking a strand behind your ear even as he uses it as an excuse to feel your temperature. Not unreasonably warm which reassures him a little that you're at least not feverish.

He just keeps sitting there next to you, stroking your hair and caressing your cheek to the point that as much as you're loathe to get him to stop and to leave, you have to remind him he can't stay here. He has a game he's already running late to.

"You...you have to go, Quinn...I'll be okay..."

"If you're not, you'll phone 911, right?" He smooths your hair back again, in truth he really doesn't want to leave you there like that. Even as you seem to be breathing a little better now you're lying down. He considers just not going, if they lose they lose...but he knows he can't. He's captain, he promised he'd be back...and you'd be unhappy with him. He might be your boyfriend but the Canucks were your team and you'd likely make him sleep on the couch for a week.

"I promise...just go win for me?"

"Okay, sweet girl." He presses a last lingering kiss to your forehead, before getting up to leave. But, he still lingers in the doorway for a moment until you push him to go.

Once he's out of the apartment he's rushing. Barely any time and honestly when he finally gets back to the arena and gets his skates on he's surprised he's just in time to go out on the ice for the anthem...cold, not warmed up in the slightest, not ready at all to play a game, but willing to.

Tocc stops him as he's passing the bench to get to the ice, "Cutting it fine, Hughes!" despite the gruff tone, Quinn can tell that Tocc is just relieved that Quinn's back in time. As are the guys who all look at him with varying shades of relief as if they'd been freaking out the entire time. Which they probably had.

"Told you I'd be back." Quinn says it with such confidence, even though inside he knows he nearly missed the entire game. To be honest if you hadn't forced him out the apartment then he'd probably have been late at best.

"How is she?" Tocc's voice is soft, concerned and Quinn appreciates it. He appreciates that as a coach Tocc doesn't just care about how much they cost or how well they play, he cares about them and their families too...and you're included in that, ring or not.

"Not good...but safe at home."

"You need practice off tomorrow?"

"Please, I need to get her to the doctors..."

"Done. Now go help us win the game." Tocc gives him a clap on the shoulder before pushing him out onto the ice and just like that Quinn slips into captain mode.

Locked in like he always is even if his legs don't feel as loose and his stick feels a little less familiar in his hands. Knowing you're home safe helps, he can put the thought of you to the back of his mind, knowing you're safe in the apartment, comfortable and surrounded by everything you need.

You find it hard to focus on the game, but force yourself to, determined to watch Quinn play and to see the goal he intends to score for you. Maybe it's silly, there's no guarantee he'll actually score, but you can tell from the moment he's on the ice that it's one of the few things on his mind. Shot after shot after shot, a determined series of attempts that remind you how important you are to him even as you lie wheezing in bed, eating as much chocolate as Quinn put out for you.

It's part way through the first period with one goal already to Vancouver thanks to Petey that the issue of Quinn's disappearance pre-game is raised.

"Quinn Hughes was nearly late to the game today, the captain missed warm ups but that's certainly not stopping him now!" Shortie's voice rings through the room, a familiar cadence that makes you feel comforted.

"No, it's not, Shortie, do we know why Hughes was late?" Dave responds and for a moment you can't quite comprehend that you've managed to cause this much of a ruckus.

"It hasn't been confirmed and you know I'm not much of a gossip..." You have a little giggle a Shortie even as you are the topic of conversation because it's not really much in the way of gossip and it's so silly.

"But?"

"Apparently he had a family emergency, his girlfriend is very unwell and he dropped everything to go get her."

"Well, that's just.."

"Romantic? Sweet?"

"I was going to say so unlike the Quinn Hughes we used to know, the one who only thought about hockey." You think back to Quinn when you first met, how everything had been hockey, hockey, hockey. You hadn't minded, your own love of the sport meant that you could handle it. But, it's true...Quinn had been rethinking his priorities ever since you started dating, where he might have prioritised hockey once, he'd started to prioritise you. You're not entirely sure at what point you became that important in his life, but it made you feel warm and fuzzy all over.

"I think it's a good thing, that's a sign of growth, just like Hughes' shot!" Shortie cuts himself off as you watch the camera pan to Quinn, following his agile movements across the ice as he skips past the other team's players as if it's as easy as breathing, "He's in past the defence, he lines up the shot and an unassisted goal for Quinn Hughes! Vancouver goal!"

You smile wide as you watch Quinn grin, celebrating with his team in a series of hugs before he finds a camera. There's a moment where you know he's grinning at you, for you, a cheeky little wink sent through the screen as if to say 'told you I'd score for you'.

"I suspect that one was for the girlfriend, Shortie."

You watch the entire game, trying not to nod off to sleep between periods. While you can't cheer and you certainly don't have the energy to celebrate too hard, every Canuck goal makes you feel lighter and brings a smile to your face.

The end result of a 5-2 win to the Canucks makes it easy for you to drift off as the game ends and the waiting for Quinn begins.

He's running off a high when the game ends, even more so when Boeser offers to take over press duties so Quinn can get back to you quickly.

The apartment is quiet when he comes in, "Baby?" not a sound comes back in response and he's careful to move quietly through the apartment to the bedroom doorway.

You're fast asleep, breathing heavy but nowhere near as bad as earlier in the day, you're surrounded by chocolate wrappers and he's quiet as he picks them all up and puts them in a bin, replacing them with the puck he scored with on your bedside table.

He tiptoes back to the kitchen quietly pottering around to make some dinner for you while you're still asleep, nothing fancy but protein, carbs and veg. The sort of thing that's definitely boring but also definitely what your body needs right now.

"Baby, time to wake up...I've made you dinner." He's gentle when he wakes you, soft fingers down your cheek as you stir awake, blinking up at him bleary eyed. Quinn helps you sit upright, the tray of food settling neatly in your lap.

"Where's...where's yours?"

"On the table, you want me to eat in here with you, sweetheart?"

He's moving before you finish nodding, grabbing another tray and his plate before joining you on the bed. He spends most of his dinner watching you eat, making sure you're not leaving large amounts and that you're okay.

He's happy about the win, happy about the score, but he's mostly just happy to be back with you and knowing that you're eating and you're okay, if not well.

Quinn's quick to tidy up your trays and even quicker to get back to you and get into a pair of boxers and a t-shirt, sliding under the covers with you and pulling you into his arms.

Your cheek rests against his chest, the steady thump of his heart a soothing sound that helps some of the anxiety about being off work ease off. Quinn's fingers caress circles and weird shapes across your arm and shoulder as he tucks you tight against him, legs twined together. Every so often he presses a kiss to your forehead, your cheek, the top of your hair, as if reassuring himself that you're okay and he's got you.

"You scored..." You mumble into his t-shirt, a small smile working it's way to your lips as his hand moves up to run through your hair, stopping at your scalp every now and then to scratch lightly until you feel like purring even if that purr is more of a wheezy rumble.

"Mmm, for you, baby." Quinn smiles down at you, another kiss pressed to your cheek.

"T...the wink?" His smile weakens slightly at your still stumbling breathlessness and the wheeze and crackle that accompany it.

"Just for you, sweet girl."

"I'm...I'm proud of you, y'know?" You smile up at him so sweetly that he can't help but feel certain in his choices today. Yeah, nearly missing a game was rough, and maybe the press are going to be dicks about it and maybe he would have felt guilty if he'd missed the game or they'd lost...but he knows he'd skip a million games if it meant you were being looked after, were safe.

"I know...and tomorrow you're going to show me how proud you are by letting me take you to the doctors again."

"Ugh..." You groan, hiding your face into his chest like that will stop him from dragging you to the doctors. Your stubbornness normally cute but in this moment less so.

Quinn cups the back of your head until your looking up at him, green eyes meeting yours with a pleading stare that makes your resolve tremble and shudder. "Please? I'm worried about you, baby...I was really scared when I got that text from you."

"Yeah?" You hate that you worried him...it's that worry that makes you concede that maybe you need to go back to the doctors and maybe as much as you hate it, you'll do it, for Quinn.

"Yeah. I can replace hockey, I can play another game if I miss one. But, I can't replace you. Let me take you to the doctors."

There's a beat of silence as he pleads with you, eyes soft, worried, gentle, thumb stroking soothingly across the base of your neck and you can't really deny him this. Not when you know you'd feel exactly the same if the roles were reversed, not when he nearly missed a game for you today and went in completely cold turkey to win it.

"Okay...as...as long as you keep cuddling me."

"I think I can do that, baby." You curl back into his arms like the spot was carved just for you and in that moment Quinn Hughes knows that you have fully hit the top of his priority list, no ands, ifs, buts or maybes. You could ask him to quit hockey tomorrow and he'd do it. He'd do anything for you and that should be terrifying, but it's not because he knows you'd never ask too much of him. If anything you ask too little.

#huggy bear writes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes/reader #quinn hughes #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #teacher reader x quinn

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spiderb00 · 8 days ago

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- GREEN-EYED MOSTER

Yoo Jaeyi x reader

“all you were doing was following your girlfriend's plan. But all she saw was green"

Genre – fluff? warnings - none

Now playing – Blank Space, by Taylor Swift

“So it's gonna be forever. Or it's gonna go down in flames"

Jaeyi doesn't know exactly when it all started to taste bitter in her mouth, she just knows that at some point the time you were spending with Ye-ri started to piss her off.

She knows it was her idea, I mean, of course you wouldn't be that close to Ye-ri if you didn't have your girlfriend's permission. Not in your dreams would you be so close to another girl without Jaeyi knowing about it. The big deal is that Jaeyi began to bitterly regret the plan she thought up when she saw how comfortable Ye-ri was feeling around you.

Everyone at that school knew you belonged to Yoo Jaeyi, and no one dared lay a finger on you, spoke up, stared too long, or lusted after you. No one was crazy enough to try to defy Jaeyi, at least not until now.

As much as all this bothered your girlfriend, she knew that you would NEVER prefer Ye-ri to her. But Ye-ri's intrusive behavior was already getting on her nerves. The long touches, the way Ye-ri laughed at your stupid jokes, you following Ye-ri to all her classes like an obedient puppy... All of this irritated Jaeyi, because you weren't Ye-ri's! She couldn't be that comfortable with you! You're Jaeyi's!

And she was going to make you remember that.

She waited patiently in your room. The light from your desk lamp faintly illuminating the room in yellow, Jaeyi's cell phone showing your location in real time. She'd seen you walk up to Ye-ri's house - and she'd calculated exactly how long you'd stood at the door, just to make sure Ye-ri wouldn't ask you to come in - minutes before, but now, you're almost at your own house, your steps calm, as if you don't have any worries to deal with.

Jaeyi's phone had already notified her of two messages from you, just asking how she was and if she'd arrived home yet. Her eyes narrowed at this, and she let out a sarcastic snort. “Oh, now you want to know how I am...” That's what she said after seeing your message.

Jaeyi was startled slightly by the sound of the door opening, not even realizing that she had disassociated long enough for you to finally arrive home. She heard your footsteps coming up the stairs, settling into the armchair in your room as if she owned the place (maybe she did).

When the door opened, her eyes immediately landed on you. You were there, confusion stamped on your face as you scratched your head, looking at your phone and probably wondering why your girlfriend hadn't answered your messages yet.

You sat on the edge of the bed with an annoyed huff, still unaware of your girlfriend's presence two meters away from you. “She always makes me answer her messages immediately, but she can't answer a single fucking message.”

Jaeyi's eyebrow arched, surprised that you were saying things like that about her when you were alone, when while you were with her, all you did was nod and agree like an idiot puppy.

“Is that what you say about me when you're alone?” Jaeyi's voice echoed through the silent room.

You startled, jumping onto the bed and almost falling face-first onto the floor. With agility, you managed to put your hands on the floor, looking at the armchair in the corner of your room, only to see your girlfriend with that characteristic little smile that sent shivers down your spine.

“Jagiya!” The name came out of your lips automatically. "Fuck, you scared me! What are you doing here? And why didn't you answer me?"

Your questions were ignored, as was the feeling of love Jaeyi felt when she heard you call her by her nickname.

“Did you have fun with Ye-ri?”

The question made your head tilt slightly to the left, confused as if the youngest of the Yoo's had asked an absurd question - which she doesn't think is the case.

"I left her at home... But I haven't gotten anything out of what she's doing with your father yet, sorry." You've barely finished speaking before you hear your girlfriend's sarcastic giggle.

She was still sitting in the armchair, staring at you kneeling on the floor next to your bed. She loved seeing how dumb you looked in front of her, it was almost as if she sucked all the knowledge out of your brain and left it trapped between her fingers, only letting it slip out when she wanted it to.

“That's a surprise, given the fact that she's so close to you.” Jaeyi's gaze was challenging, almost as if she wanted you to ask what she was talking about.

“All right, I really don't understand.” You got up from the floor, putting your hands on your waist, trying to make yourself look bigger in front of your girlfriend.

“Of course you don't understand.” She stood up from the armchair, and you took a step back. Your hands fell away from your waist, being positioned uncomfortably next to your body. “You're just too innocent a puppy to notice that Ye-ri is shamelessly hitting on you!”

Her words hit you hard, you hadn't realized that Ye-ri was hitting on you, you thought it was just her, being the usual flirtatious girl. Well, it seems you were wrong.

"I was just following your plan, jagiya. I didn't want you to feel that way..."

Jaeyi's footsteps echoed through the room, she slowly approached you.

“Like what, jagiya?” She asked, raising her hand to run her fingers through your hair.

“You know...” You replied, tilting your head and closing your eyes. Letting yourself be carried away by her fingers caressing your scalp. “Jealous.”

The giggle that came out of your girlfriend's mouth made you open your eyes again, looking at her only to find that she was already looking at you with those beautiful eyes.

"Oh jagiya... I'm not jealous, I'm just going to make sure you know you're mine!"

just testing again ;)

i told you how obsessed i was with “friendly rivalry” and then some of you told me to write to the girls and here i am.

i hope you like it, it's not much but it's something ;)

drink water and stay safe

xoxo, spider.

#yoo jaeyi x reader #yoo jaeyi #friendly rivalry #gxg imagine #wlw imagine #lee hyeri #lee hyeri x reader #gxg #spiderb00

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wasiandude · 10 months ago

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My new boyfriend.

Tommy was Olivia's bff, he was always there for her above all things, they considered themselves almost "sisters" since tommy was not a guy like the others, he was a Twink, brown hair, youthful face, 20 years old, very thin, just like a noodle and clearly homosexual.

Olivia was the typical dumb blonde girl, tall, busty, the same age as tommy and popular but despite all this she always had things going wrong in love, she had recently met a fraternity guy named "Jake" But as expected, their relationship didn't last long and they had broken up a few hours ago, so she sent Tommy a message, so he could comfort her like he always does.

"Sis... I have ended my relationship with Jake, I am devastated... He was the most handsome guy in the world, I can't believe it"

"bestie, why do your relationships always take so little time? I mean, you've dated really hot guys... Hehe, I don't understand why they break up with you, you're beautiful, sis"

"I don't know, Tommy.... I would love to have a boyfriend who actually loves me for a long time, who protects me, listens to me and all that stuff, like you do."

"It's a shame I like guys, bff, because if I didn't, you know I'd be with you, but don't worry, you'll get a nice handsome guy with an attitude like mine!"

"I hope it doesn't take too long for that guy to come into my life, hey baddie, thanks for listening to me <3, now I have to go to sleep, sweet dreams! xoxo"

After that last message, olivia went straight to her computer and looked for something on the black market that could help her with her plan, and that's how he found a pair of red shorts, a chain and some earrings, In the description it said that with those things the guy who will use them would become the most handsome and loving guy in the world, so olivia did not hesitate twice and clicked to buy it.

The next day, the package arrived at her house, but I didn't want it to be so obvious, so I took the things out of the box where they were and handed them another one with a wrapper full of teddy bears and hearts, olivia knew that Tommy, seeing this, would not hesitate to open it, so once she closed the box, she sent it to Tommy's house.

A few minutes had passed since Olivia had sent the box to Tommy's house, When the package arrived someone knocked on the door and left, Tommy went directly to the door and opened it, curious to see the package he picked it up from the floor and began to open it, Tommy, seeing what was inside the box, was surprised. He never ordered clothes online, maybe they went to the wrong house, so he closed the box again, waiting for the real owner to claim it.

Once he left the box on the table, he went straight to the shower, when he finished his shower he grabbed his shirt but something was missing... And that was his special pink shorts, he remembered that he had lent them to his best friend so he thought of a solution, so he remembered that in the package they had sent him there were some red shorts so he went for them, once he used them, he would wash them so that the real owner would not suspect.

He grabbed the red shorts and put them on, It was a beautiful warm and sunny day so he decided to watch some TV, while watching TV he started to feel strange and a little hot, Something in his mind told him no try on what was in the box, the chain and the earrings, so he went for them and put them on, once je had them on he went to a mirror and saw himself, he laughed because he looked like one of her friend's boyfriends, but thin and without any muscle. After he saw herself in the mirror, he returned to the couch to continue watching TV.

And without realizing it, his foot began to enlarge as it became fleshier, his toes lengthened as veins sprouted and some hair grew on them, now he had feet of size 15, large masculine, all their delicacy was gone, now they looked like the feet of an jock.

His legs began to hurt, because they began to thicken and muscle began to come out, now his thighs were big while his calves were worthy of a real man, some hair began to grow on them.

The next thing to change was his butt and his bag, His big butt began to shrink to a decent size worthy of an jock, it was big but not as big as before although it was defined a little more, her pouch, which she was proud of since it was small and delicate, began to grow to a size 15 and also thickened while pubic hair came out, it seemed that she never shaved, but that made him look more masculine.

His designer thong also began to undergo changes, it went from being a red thong to becoming blue designer boxers so that his manhood would be highlighted even more along with his toned butt.

His stomach, which was thin, began to hurt as abdominal after abdominal came out in Tommy's stomach, a v began to be marked on the lateral sides while he gained a beautiful pack of 8 very worked abs, his chest began to expand outwards as two large defined pecs bulged out, a tattoo began to appear on a pectoral, his torso began to lengthen as he became more masculine, his back also underwent changes, it went from being feminine and thin, to being masculine and wide, muscle also appeared there, giving him a very manly back and worthy of admiration.

hiss shirt began to tear due to his large muscles, that was where Tommy reacted and was surprised and ran towards the mirror.

"Omg! What happened to me? I am dreaming? "This must be a dream, yes... I must wake up."

But before Tommy slapped himself, his arms began to hurt as they began to stretch and muscle began to come out, his biceps were now the size of a ball, his triceps were well worked, his delicate hands began to thicken while his fingers lengthened can and they started to look calloused due to all the exercise he did at the gym, wait... Exercise? Gym? He didn't exerc- but before Tommy reacted, two tattoos began to appear on his two muscular arms and another tattoo on one of his biceps.

Tommy couldn't anymore, he was about to cry, so he got the idea to call Olivia, but before he could do that, his face started to hurt.

Tommy's face, which was young, delicate and feminine, began to change as his jaw became marked, giving him a more manly appearance, His lips that were too full from being an expert cocksucker became thinner but still looked kissable, his nose became big and cuter, his eyes that were green began to turn brown, his beautiful blonde hair began to recede as it began to turn black, at the end, his hair ended up with a cut that any jock could have, his face had become the most beautiful, any girl who saw him would die to be with him, Tommy looked in the mirror again, looking at his new appearance, he became somewhat horny, without a doubt his new appearance was his ideal type, all the blood flowed into his bag giving him an obvious erection.

Tommy put his hand in his bag and started moving his hand up and down. He started to think about how many cute guys he could fuck... But as he thought about guys his erection faded, His mind began to give him new memories as a new alpha aura took over him. He began to imagine himself fucking girls with big butts and tits. His erection returned, but Tommy knew this wasn't right... He was... Homo... Homosexual?, NO, he was straight and loved raising beautiful girls with his bag, As he continued to raise and lower his hand he couldn't hold back anymore and he came and with that all his memories, personality and Tommy faded away.

"Seriously, Olivia is lucky to have me as a boyfriend, I mean, who wouldn't want someone like me?" Max said to himself as he flexed one of his arms in the mirror.

Tommy was now Max, Olivia's boyfriend, quarterback of the football team, leader of his fraternity, he loved parties, alcohol, exercising and having fun, max hated homosexuals, he said they could never be real men like him and his "bros."

After pulling up his pants he received a message from his girlfriend Olivia, Olivia knew that Tommy at this point had ceased to exist so she wanted to test out her new boyfriend.

"Hi love! I miss you... I would like to have you here with me, I want you to make me yours... come to my house <3"

"Well, today I'm free princess, to hell with today's training, I prefer to be with my beautiful girl, so you don't miss me so much while i arrived at your house, I'll send you a photo of me, princess ;)"

Olivia was happy with her new boyfriend, he was affectionate and listened to her all day, just like she wanted.

#gay to straight #male tf #personality change #reality change #jock tf #male transformation #frat bro #twink to jock #frat boy tf

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wintfleur · 1 year ago

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hi!! starting off, I love ur works omg theyre so cute im crying. I wanted to request a lando x f!reader where its set up after the Vegas crash :( and shes like very anxious and jittery even after they confirmed he was okay, she doesn't wanna let go of him and hes comforting her even though he was the one that was hurt. Im so sorry if this was too long!!!! love ur writing <3

ꔫ darling, I’m okay I promise

°. — pairings ( lando norris x fem! reader )

°. — summary ( you hate to see lando hurt, and lando hates to see his girlfriend worry )

°. — details ( g; angst?, comfort, fluff? w; kissing, I think that’s all wc; 1.9k )

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( it wasn’t to long don’t worry about it! I love detailed requests! Also thank youu, I’m so happy you love my writings 🥹 so sorry for how long it took me to get it out! I loved writing this! Please don’t be a silent reader, I love to hear your thoughts! )

main masterlist f1 masterlist

You forgot how to breathe for a few moments when his crash was shown on the screen, you immediately felt a cold blanket of fear cover you as you brought your hand to cover your mouth, year eyes blurring with unshed tears. You've seen many crashes before so you could tell that this crash was bad, and your mind immediately jumped to the worst conclusions. You only looked away from the screen when you felt a soft hand on your shoulder, you blinked away your tears and looked at Max who was giving you a small smile, but you could see the worry in his eyes for his best friend.

“Don't worry, you know lando he's going to be fine” Max nodded, moving to turn his body so you would be out of the sight of the camera that would definitely try to pan to you to see your reaction. ‘Lando Norris’s Girlfriends reaction to His Las Vegas gp crash’ Max could already see the headlines and all the tweets of your reaction all over the internet. You sniffle and do your best to give him a smile

“Yeah of course”

You didn't believe your words or max’s.

Max and Pietra didn't want to leave you alone, especially after the news of lando immediately being sent to the hospital came out, but you had reassured them that you were fine being alone in lando’s room in the garage, telling them to continue to watch the race. You couldn't watch any more of the race, feeling nauseous as you watched the cars continue and Lando's wrecked car being towed away, pieces of the car being cleaned up. The sweet couple had only left you alone when your phone rang, a call from lando’s mother.

You had calmed down a little as you talked with Cisca, you loved Lando's mother so much, and even though she was also worried, she reassured you that her son would be fine. The two of you stayed on the phone for a while until she had to go, ending the call with a i love you and letting her know that you would keep her updated on any news you would get. And as soon as the call ended those fearful thoughts came back.

You tried to busy yourself, cleaning up his room a little and hanging up Lando's clothes that he previously wore and didn't hang up, not wanting them to get wrinkly. But by the time you were done, there was still no news, so you sat on the small couch, your leg absentmindedly bouncing as you tried to focus on anything in the room other than your thoughts. You got bored staring at the wall, so you distracted yourself with a game lando had downloaded on your phone, claiming that he had no more room on his phone.

You looked away from the bottom of the screen of your phone that was filled with the bright colors of the game and to the top when you heard the familiar ding of a text. It was from a number you didn't have saved, but you quickly pressed on the notification. It was a picture of Lando smiling at the hospital, the message under the picture letting her know that Lando was fine and would be coming back soon. You knew it was someone from McLaren who texted you, Lando must have given them your number since his phone was in his bag next to you. You quickly thanked them.

You turned your phone off with a relieved sigh now that you knew that your boyfriend was okay, but that worry and fear still didn't go away, if anything you became more anxious. He didn't get hurt, this time. Every time he gets into that car there is a chance that he would get hurt, it makes you dizzy the longer you think of it. You remembered the talk you had with Cisca when you and lando first started dating, you had asked her how she copes with the fear of lando getting hurt or worse in the car. She had explained that the fear never leaves, you just become better at dealing with it. You had felt reassured and scared at the same time by her words.

You quickly texted Cisca letting her know that lando is okay, sending her the picture as well. A small smile forming on your lips when she responds saying ‘he's so silly’. You really wished he was here already, you lean your head back against the couch, your fidgeting fingers folding on your lap so you could stop picking at the skin around your nails, a bad habit you thought you had gotten rid of.

You tried to think of anything positive as you waited for your boyfriend to come back, hoping that the time would move faster. You thought of the vacation you, Lando and your friends would be going on after the season ends, you thought about how nice it's going to be waking up with him every day in your shared apartment. You missed the domestic life you had with Lando during the off season. He missed it too.

Your eyes flustered opened, and your head snapped up at the sound of the door to the room opening. Your eyes immediately go to the door, and you are quick to your feet when you see your boyfriend open the door and quickly shut it behind him, his arms already open for you. You rush to his arms, wrapping your arms around his waist and squeezing your eyes shut as you basically shoved your face in his neck. Lando smiles and wraps his arms around your shoulders, holding you tight, his eyes shutting as well as the both of you just basking in the feeling of being in each other's arms again.

You held onto him tighter, but not too tight because you worried it might hurt him. Feeling his heartbeat against you and the image of his crash replaying through your head and remembering the fear you felt brought tears to your eyes. You nestled your face against his neck, the feeling of your nose brushing against his neck almost made him laugh, the smile on his lips turned to a frown when he heard you sniffle, holding in your tears.

“Please don't cry darling, I’m okay” Lando whispered as he brought one of his hands under your shirt, his warm hand caressing the skin on your back. He could tell that you were doing your best to hold it in, you hated seeing him hurt, he knew that crash wasn't easy for you to watch, and he hated that he was the one making you so worried. Your voice comes out muffled against his neck as your refused to let him go “I was so scared Lando.”

“I know baby, i know” Lando mumbled, bringing his other hand to the back of your nape to softly pull you back from his neck so he could see your face. You opened your eyes to look up into his and Lando felt his heart string get pulled when he saw the tears in your eyes, he hated seeing you cry. Lando moved his hand from your nape to cup your cheek, his thumb softly caressing your cheek “Darling, I’m okay I promise.”

“You promise” you asked as your eyes searched for signs in his eyes and face that he wasn't okay. Lando didn't like not being the best he could be, and he didn't like worrying you. He wouldn't lie to you; he would just try to protect you from the truth. Lando smiles and leans down, softly kissing your lips between his words “I promise darling” he rested his forehead against yours as he reluctantly pulled away from your lips.

You moved your hands from his shoulders and trailed them down to his arms where you softly gripped onto them and pulled him towards the couch, wanting him to rest as much as he could before the two of you could get back to the hotel. Lando sat on the couch, and you were quick to nestle yourself into his side, his arm around your shoulder and your arm around his stomach and your head on his chest.

“Baby i'm not going to disappear if you let go” Lando chuckles once he feels you squeeze him again, as if you were checking that he truly was there. You frown at the thought and find yourself clinging to him tighter, one of your legs moving to drape over one of his knees, wanting to be as close to your boyfriend as you can “I don't want to take the chance.”

“Don't worry darling, you're stuck with me” Lando smiled fondly as he thought of his future with you, he brushed your hair out of your face and placed a soft and long kiss on your forehead. You smiled and started to absentmindedly move your hand up and down lando’s side in a soothing motion that always calmed lando down “I like the sound of that.”

“You know what I like the sound of?” Lando asked you as he moved his hand that wasn't on your shoulder to your thigh, gently squeezing it. You hummed and tilted your head up to look at him, waiting for his answer. Lando could hear the faint loudness of everything going on outside the room they were in, and he desperately wanted the two of you away from the loudness. He didn't want to admit it but he was also still a little shaken up from his crash, but he wanted to put on a brave face for you. He smiled down at you “Me, you, our hotel bed, and room service.”

“The things I would do for some French fries” you playfully groaned as you shook your head, Lando's idea sounded amazing, the two of you snuggled up in bed watching a movie as you ate. Lando smirked and he rubbed your thigh as he whispered teasingly in your ear “Tell me more.”

“Lando!” You exclaimed with a shy smile, hiding your face in his chest, feeling flustered from his seductive and teasing tone. Lando laughs loudly, throwing his head back against the couch, very much enjoying your bashfulness. You pout and sit up straight from leaning against him, watching as he laughs at your expense, your boyfriend always did love to tease you.

You give him a deadpan look once he lifts his head up to give you a smile “I hate you so much.”

“No, you don’t” Lando smiles cheekily and before you could respond, he brought his hand that was resting on your shoulder to the back of your nape, pulling you down for a much-desired kiss. You let out a hum of surprise at the quick movement, but you close your eyes and move your hand from his side to cup his cheek, tilting your head and deepening the kiss.

You only pull away from the kiss for a moment to catch your breath, but Lando was eager to lock your lips back into a kiss, trailing his hand down from your nape to your back, pressing your body against his. You let Lando take control of the kiss, your mouth parting and his tongue slipping in. As much as you loved to kiss your boyfriend, you really didn't want to get caught making out with him in his room. So, you reluctantly pull away from the kiss, whispering breathlessly against his lips with a smile.

“Yeah, your right, I don’t”

°. — taglist ( @iloveyou3000morgan @copper-boom @cixrosie @ophcelia )

#୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ. 𝓵atest release of 𝓻oro’s 𝔀orks #formula one #f1 #formula 1 #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris #ln4 #lando norris imagine #lando norris fluff #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x you #f1 x you #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #mclaren

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ang3ltine · 1 month ago

Text

"𝐃𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞" 🕸️ - Boyfriend Joaquin torres x Spidey freader

Joaquin crush for you grew stronger after joining the new Avenger's team. When you two start dating in secret, that meant hiding the relationship from everyone. Especially Bucky ✰.ᐟ

a.n - small scenarios of what dating Joaquin would be like | Bucky makes an appearance as reader's mentor/father figure (duh) - he doesn't approve of him dating you but he eventually likes him | Peter Parker is known in this universe!

warnings - cuts/wounds, falcon/bird jokes, sexual tension, hickeys, making out, whiney Joaquin, suggestive themes, and lots of fluff!!

"Now you guys aren't like the original Avengers, but -- that doesn't mean the world doesn't need more heroes. If anything, they need you now more than ever before."

Sam had the difficult task of reassembling the Avengers, along with the help of Bucky. Peter had joined as one of the first members, then came along Joaquin, you and a few others.

The Avengers tower was back in commission thanks to Pepper and she had even let him refurbish the place. That's where you guys were standing, in the living room.

"We can't live up to their legacy. That's too high of a goal for us to reach." You stated with a worried tone while sitting on the bar countertop.

"True... but you guys can make a new one. One that people can aspire to and turn to when needed." Sam then turns his head to Joaquin with a serious look. "Joaquin, I'm counting on you the most."

Joaquin puts his hands up in the air in defence and his lips turn upwards into a grin. "No need to ask me twice."

Heavy footsteps could be heard against the newly polished floor as the person makes their way to the group.

"I'm betting my odds on someone else."

Bucky walks into frame and stands by Sam with his arms crossed. His hair had grown out again and he had his suit on since he had just finished a meeting.

His eyes met with yours giving you a silent message of who he meant.

"Sure thing boss, I won't let you down!" You give him a quick salute with a bright smile. Bucky smiles back in response as he gives you a small nod of acknowledgement.

"So uhm when's the first mission?" Peter pitches in with a hand raised in the air. Sam gives him a stern look, making him shut his mouth in response.

"Training comes first. Then - you guys get your first assignment in a month or so."

"A month?? You're kidding -" Joaquin interjects before you place a hand on your shoulder.

"Joaquin we need the training. We can't just go on a mission without knowing how to work as a team." Joaquin slumps his shoulders and gives you a small nod after patting the top of your hand. "Fine..."

After the brief meeting, the next few weeks were full of training drills almost every day. The team would sometimes complain that Joaquin liked to tease them a lot, especially after Kate joined. She'd pair up with you, and you'd tag team againgst him and Peter.

Your latest mission was chaotic, to say the least. Joaquin was still trying to get used to working as a team since he only worked with you and Sam.

So it was no surprise for you when he flies off by himself.

"Joaquin you can't just go ahead of the team! We have to stick together!" You yell over the comms while you and Peter swing from building to building to catch up.

"Hey, don't worry! I see the idiots running down 10th street." Joaquin replies while flying down to catch them offguard.

"Honestly, I don't know how you have a crush on this guy," Peter says sarcastically while swinging by your side.

"Zip it, Parker," you sighed while shaking your head in amusement. You knew Peter was joking around so you just brush of the comment.

Joaquin is always so optimistic, and he lifts the team's spirit when feeling down. Which was what you all needed, especially after what happened to the original Avenger's team.

For now it was just you three since the others was sent on a mission somewhere else. Also because Sam had enough of your antics back at the tower so it gave him an excuse to kick you all out.

"Guys ...I need some help," you hear Joaquin grunting into his mic, clearly struggling.

"Don't worry we're on our way," you replied while Peter gives you a firm nod before heading over to the location. You spotted him with the other delinquents in the park in the distance, so you and Peter swing in to help.

Peter goes for the two on the left while you get the guy who was trying to run away from the group. You web up his feet and drag him across the floor and hang him from a tree.

"Sorry buddy!" You tutted while bending down to match his level. "Maybe next time, don't steal without considering the consequences."

"Hey I got the others!" Peter shouts while giving you the thumbs up. Joaquin joins him with the other two in his custody.

"Thanks guys," Joaquin manages to say while being slightly out of breath. "Sorry I uh - shouldn't have flown off like that."

"Nah you're good Quin," you quipped as you take down the young teenager from the tree and help him on his feet. "We should take these guys to the nearest police station."

When you guys finally made it back to the tower, the sun had fully set. You and Peter took off your masks while Joaquin trailed behind you.

Peter nudges your shoulder and he nods his head behind you where Joaquin was.

"You think he's upset over the mission? I mean, it was a total success, but he still probably feels bummed out."

You pat Peters shoulder silently and he takes it as his signal to leave you two alone. Before leaving you give him an appreciative smile as he turns to head inside.

Joaquin was sitting on the edge of the Avengers building when you come to join him by his side.

"You wanna talk about it?" You mumbled while swinging your legs and letting your hair flow in the gentle summer breeze. The sun had disappeared from beyond the horizon, revealing a sea of stars above you both.

"I just feel like... sometimes, I mess things up when I let my body think before my brain does." Joaquin replies while he plays leans back little to look at the city skyline.

"Hmm, I'm sure the more you work with us, the more you'll learn how to be part of a team." You replied and slipped your hands into his.

The gesture stuns him a little before giving your hand a light squeeze. He gives you a soft smile before turning his head back towards the stars.

"Sam put us together for a reason Joaquin...you shouldn't doubt yourself so much." From the corner of your eye, you spotted the faint smile slowly creeping up on his lips.

"Are you that happy from a small pep talk?" You laugh softly while he leans on your shoulder.

"Yup, you know you should make your own talk show. Maybe people would actually listen to your advice."

"Wow...that's a great compliment lieutenant Falcon." You mused while wrapping an arm round his shoulder as he bends down to your height.

"Really? Lieutenant falcon?" Joaquin says with pursed lips and furrowed eyebrows, trying to seem unamused. But the ends of his mouth twitching gave him away and he bursts out laughing.

"What? Isn't that who you are now?" You answered back while holding in your own laugh.

Peter and Kate watch the whole ordeal from the hanger.

"They're so obvious it's disgusting," Kate mutters under her breath while Peter nods in agreement.

"You're telling me Steve Rogers... isn't currently on a secret base on the moon?" Joaquin mutters while lying down on the workout bench.

It was just you and Joaquin in the gym since everyone else was out. Peter had gone to meet his friends so he left just a little less than an hour ago after training. While Kate went to go take a shower.

You were looming over him with your arms crossed and a raised brow.

"Do you seriously believe that?"

"I mean it's a great theory," Joaquin shrugs as he moves to sit up properly, his body was sore so he winced slightly while adjusting himself.

"You're silly," you mumbled while trying to fight back a smile.

The relationship you two had was a fine line between friends and more. That meant stealing glances during meetings in the briefing room and hands grazing against each other when passing by.

Not to mention the obvious sexual tension between you both that Peter and Kate had noticed quite recently. That's partially why they excused themselves, thinking it was better to leave them to figure it out.

That's how the current predicament came to be.

Joaquin's arms wrapped around your waist while sitting down and had his face againgst your plush stomach. He had on his dark green slim fit tank top that showed off his biceps and well toned chest.

"Anyone could walk in and see us. You know that, right?" You mumbled while reaching down to run your fingers through his dark curls. It was slightly damp from intense training, but that didn't bother you.

"Who cares..." His voice was muffled when he spoke, making you laugh softly in response. You could tell he was pouting even though you couldn't really see his face. Just his lips jutting out gave you the impression that he was.

"Quin?"

Joaquin smiles at the mention of the nickname but hums in response. "Mm...Yeah?"

"What are we?" you asked quietly, as if it wasn't just the two of you in the room. If your consciousness could speak for you right now, it would tell you not to say anything. But you couldn't help but be curious.

Joaquin peers up at your through his lashes as he rests his chin ontop of your stomach. He had a dazed look to him with the ends of his lips turning into a lazy grin.

"I thought that was obvious."

Your cheeks flushed at what he was insinuating, and if you were being honest, you felt like a fool for asking. Joaquin observed the way you averted your eyes, refusing to look at him. He sighs before standing up to his full height and slips large his hands into yours.

You had bandages wrapped around your fists, which were becoming loose while Joaquin played with them.

The sudden gesture made you flicker your eyes back up at him. His chocolate brown eyes were warm and inviting, with a sense of longing.

He gave your hands a light squeeze for reassurance before moving them up to cup your face. Your breath hitches when he bends down to your height while his hair tickled your nose from a loose curl.

"You know... all the times we hung out together in your room. Playing video games and taking naps together, going out to cafés and the mall. It wasn't just because we're friends?" You whispered while the rough pad of Joaquins thumb ran gently across your cheek. Your skin felt soft and warm underneath his touch since the blood had rushed to the surface.

"Hm...I guess I should've straight out told you then, right? Mi amor?" He drawled as he inches closer towards your lips, his breath was now heavy against yours. His scent flooded your senses, it was a mixture of tang and his natural musk from his skin.

He hesitates before flickering his gaze up to you again.

"You sure you want this? I don't want you to feel - uncomfortable." It sounded like he was concerned, but at the same time, it was masking a teasing tone to his voice.

The intensity of the situation grew thicker as you only grew more frustrated from his teasing. You spotted the glint in his eye as the iconic smirk played across his lips.

"Just shut up and kiss me!"

That's all he needed to hear before enclosing the space between you both. Joaquin traced his thumb across your bottom lip as his body pressed firmly against yours. He'd wanted his mouth on yours for years.

Ever since the day Sam introduced you to him 3 years ago and you two had been best friends for a long time.

Now that it was finally happening, he wanted to savour the moment.

At first, he starts off slow, with the utmost gentleness as he tested the waters. His lips were slightly chapped but nonetheless soft as it practically melts againgst yours in a steady motion.

He groaned against your lips at the taste of your sugary lipbalm. It was grape flavoured, his favourite.

"Taste S'good..." he murmers against your lips before swiping his tongue across your bottom lip to taste more. You whimpered into his mouth while gently abusing the soft muscle.

You reached to the back of his neck where you feel the small baby hairs on the nape. By giving it a small tug, the tall man writhed underneath your touch, only fueling the fire to his desire and deepens the kiss.

Joaquin doesn't break the kiss as he gently presses you against the wall behind you. His hands leave your hips, probably leaving dents from how hard his grip was and both his arms now entrapped you on either side of your head.

Sighs and moans of content or pleaure are passed between your lips and his. You and Joaquin had to fight to not entirely lose yourselves completely within pure bliss. One more so than the other when you pulled back to catch your breath.

"Quin,hah...just gimme a sec-" you breathe out while pushing the hair out of his face.

A small whine of discontent left Joaquins lips and before you could protest, his mouth was back on yours. Quickly closing the distance between them that you had created for just a brief moment.

He needed to feel you. He loved it too much to stop.

Joaquin's hands were back on your waist, and you felt his thick thigh fitting snugly between your legs. He flexes them while tilting his head to get a better angle when kissing you. He urges you to move against his thigh, causing you to moan quietly between each kiss. The fabric of your shorts were thin, so you felt every twitch from his toned thigh.

"Love you s'much," your voice was barely a whisper as it was all becoming too much for you.

Joaquin let's out a small chuckle as you began to pepper his face with quick pecks before moving back to his lips. They were now wet and tasted salty due to your tears of pleasure and beads of sweat.

"Love you too angel..." he mumbled against your plush lips.

Your hips still grinding against his toned thigh while you felt your arousal building up due to the delicious friction and the passionate kisses. Joaquin doesn't complain since he gets to enjoy the sound of your heavenly voice as their tongues begin gently stroking against one another.

The pace of their kiss slowing down considerably, yet the same desire stayed from before. Joaquin could feel that you were close to cumming since your movements were becoming more sloppy. He takes the opportunity to help you reach your high and pushes you down a little harder and faster.

A purr of delight had bubbled up from your throat when you felt Joaquins hand hike up your top, his slightly rough palm gently rubbed into your hip. Only bringing your more and more closer towards the edge.

Joaquin could felt himself strain againgst his boxers and twitched slightly, making him awfully sensitive. So he leaves a trail of wet kisses from the side of your mouth down towards your neck. His tongue was hot and heavy against your supple skin as it prodded and suckled on any piece of skin he could find.

Your body was flush against his due to the stickiness of your sweat mixed with his while you could only breath shakily next to his ear. "Mmh...s'too much..."

He growls against your neck as felt himself getting closer to bursting. After finding your sweet spot, he focuses on that particular area.

"God-- Quin don't stop...m'close"

"Mmph...me too angel.." Joaquin mumbles against your neck before pulling away and encapturing his lips with yours once more. You moan into his mouth while the both of you cum at the same time, a rush of warmth spread across your body like a wildfire.

After feeling satisfied, he leaves your mouth with a pop before letting his eyes wander mindlessly over the dark marks that blossomed beautifully across your neck and collarbone.

You flutter your eyes open to study his facial expression. His cheeks were now flushed like yours, and his eyebrows were now furrowed while he breathed heavily, trying to catch his breath.

"You're insufferable you know that right?" You manage to catch your breath, feeling slightly lightheaded.

Joaquin runs a thumb over your kiss swollen lips as he drinks in your appearance. Honestly he's not sure how even managed to get someone as beautiful as you to his girlfriend but he wasn't one to complain.

"Yeah...but you love me either way." He quipped with a smug smile on his lips.

"Sadly yes... yes I do." You murmured before pressing one last kiss to his damp cheek.

You let out a small yelp when Joaquin suddenly lifts you off the ground and hauls you over his shoulder.

"What are you doing?!" You yelled as you frantically looked past the glass walls of the gym. Now, becoming more aware of your vulnerable situation.

"Isn't it obvious? We're taking a shower together." He states calmly while walking towards the gym shower room.

"Alright but put me down!!" Joaquin laughs at your childish response and finally let's you down.

When it came to dating Joaquin in secret, you guys weren't exactly subtle about it. At some point, even Sam grew suspicious of the pair when you pampered Joaquin more than usual.

Even after you both insisted that you were just 'friends.' So that's what makes the current ordeal all the more contradicting. He watches the two of you interact from a distance.

Joaquin had returned after successfully apprehending the fugitives, but had a huge gash on his cheek after a guy had slashed him with a knife.

"Ugh Quin! I told you to be careful," you sighed and shook your head in disappointment.

"I'm still alive aren't I?" Joaquin quipped with outstretched arms and a wide grin.

Damn it -- why'd he have to get you every time with that contagious smile all the time?

"C'mon bird boy, lets get you fixed up."

Joaquin takes a seat and leans back a little so you could work on stitching the wound. Which was a little tricky since the plane was moving too much.

Having no choice, you opted to sit on his lap, which even catches Joaquin offguard. Kate snickers behind her hand as she watches the whole thing unfold. Unbeknownst to you ofcourse, you carried on.

One hand worked on cleaning the wound while the other rested on his cheek so you could angle his face better. Joaquin had a dazed look on his face as he followed your every move with a dopey smile.

The way he was looking at you would make any girl swoon as you falter a little underneath his loving gaze.

"There, all done now birdie." You smile softly when you finished stitching. Your fingers linger there for a bit before you move to get up from his lap.

Joaquin doesn't let you go far before pulling you back towards him again. He buries his face into your neck as he holds you firmly in his strong arms.

"Hm...Can we stay like this for a sec'?" he mumbled while you play with his hair. Your heart was racing at the sudden act of affection but you chose to indulge in the moment.

"Sure thing," you whispered softly against his hair after pressing a small kiss to the side of his head. To anyone's perspective, they could see that this scene looked more intimate than it should be.

Especially to Sam as he fights back a smile and decides to sneak up on them. He cleared his throat before speaking with an unusually deep voice. Giving them the biggest jump scare of their lives.

"So...you two love birds done?"

You swiftly moves away from Joaquins embrace, much to his dismay. He almost let's out a whine from the absence of your warmth, but held himself back when he notices that Sam was the giving the both of them a smug look.

"Hmm is this," He gestures between you and Joaquin with a mischievous smile "what you call being friendly? Snuggling on my jet?"

You both were speechless at the rather straightforward question while Joaquin tried thinking of a plausible reason.

"Uh well in my defence. We weren't Snuggling, it was uhm, just us trying to stay warm mmph-" you place a hand over his mouth while he let out muffled protests.

You raise an eyebrow at him while he slowly realises what he just said, you let go after he calmed down. His face was flushed red at this point while you composed yourself.

"It was just a casual hug, nothing more." You stated when you turn back to Sam who is now hiding a smile behind his hand. As much as he hated to admit it, he was hoping you two would get together one way or another.

"Sureee, casual. Got it."

Bucky would visit sometimes to check up on you and one time he caught something that stops him in his tracks.

He was on his way to the training room when he spots the back of Joaquins head through the glass walls. It seemed like he was... leaning forward towards someone?

Once he took a step closer he noticed it was in fact, you. You were hanging upside down with your spider suit on and your mask half off.

"What the hell are you guys doing?" The both of you got startled at the sudden appearance of the metal armed man as he practically barged into the room unannounced.

"He looks pretty pissed," Joaquin hisses so you could hear.

"Ya think?" You hiss back while you stand back on your feet while you readjust your mask.

It's not like you two were trying to hide your relationship from everyone, but you insisted on keeping things professional during working hours.

Joaquin on the other hand like to push your patience and do reckless acts like this. Mostly for his own pleasure but also to get you to have fun during long training sessions.

"Well it was your idea to do the upside down kiss," you whispered under your breath with crossed arms.

"I'm standing right here you know," Bucky states flatly with a deadpan face. "How long have you two been doing this behind my back?"

"Uhh...3 months?" Joaquin answers while shifting uncomfortably under Buckys intense gaze.

"3 -- 3 months? How -" Bucky stops himself from saying anything too harsh. He switches his eyes to you instead while you tried avoiding eye contact with him.

"That's why you've been so unusually close with bird man here?" He asks with a sarcastic tone. Joaquin was going to retort but shut his mouth because it looked like Bucky was about to murder him on the spot.

"Hey it's not like he's a bad guy? If anything, he's been the most loyal and sweetest man ever. More so than my previous partners." You rambled on while Bucky listens carefully and gives Joaquin the side eye. "Just give him a chance ok?"

Bucky let's out an exasperated sigh before fully turning towards the nervous man who was standing next to you.

"Break her heart and you're dead. Got it?" Bucky says coldly while Joaquin nods hurriedly in response.

"I swear she's in good hands. Besides, I'd never let anything bad happen to her." His words sounded genuine to Bucky, which surprised him because he knew how much of a womaniser Joaquin is.

"You better," he responds with a lighter tone and relaxed shoulders.

You sighed in relief when Bucky finally left the pair of you alone. Claiming he had a meeting to go to and he just wanted to check in to see you.

Joaquin wraps his arms around your waist before resting his head on top of yours. "You think he'd ever accept me?"

"I think he already has. Otherwise, he would've thrown you out the window by now." You joked. Joaquin pulls back slightly and peers down at you with a loving look.

"Good, 'Cause you're stuck with me for life." Joaquin whispers with a satisfied grin on his face as he gently presses his forehead against yours.

Joaquin leans into your touch when you reach up with one hand to caress his cheek. The sunlight peaked behind him, creating a soft glow that accentuates his features perfectly.

"Hmm, I'm ok with that." You hum in response with a sofr smile before enclosing the very minimal space between you both.

Bonus:

"Ok pay up," Kate says with a full mouth of popcorn and sticks her hand out infront of Peter. The two were hiding behind the door of the training room as they watched the whole thing unfold.

Peter groans in defeat and reluctantly gives Kate $20.

#joaquin torres #joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres x fem!reader #joaquin torres smut #captain america a brave new world #mcu #marvel x reader #joaquin torres fanfiction

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toriaaniin · 3 months ago

Text

Well hello there (redacted*)! How nice of you to drop by. I'd offer you a cup of tea, but...

Me and my Lukola friends are too blind to find anything in the kitchen!

And while I'm paying attention to you (redacted)... did you not read the article that Nicola posted yesterday? Did you not take the hint that she was admonishing trolls and online bully behaviour? You know; behaviour that looks suspiciously like your message (above) to me? Perhaps you have eyesight issues too. Yes. Yes, I think you do.

As for me...

I'm simply following the clues that a possibly pregnant women has left for me and my friends. In fact her clues are more easily readable than brail.

Now; about this so called "launch" you speak of? Give me a break. Even through the haze of my cataracts I was able to see that her post for Jake the other day was lame. She didn't even tag him.

Let's compare her untagged "love" post to Jake with the HBD wishes she's posted on her IG stories for her other friends:

She shares a photo of Jake next to the trash can; a photo that doesn't even include her IN it. Surly Nicola has better photos of "the love of her life" on her phone?! Let's compare with how she wishes her very good friend Jack Rooke a happy birthday. So sweet! And tagged.

When Nicola wished Luke Fetherston a happy birthday she not only shared a photo with both of them in it, she also gave him THREE red hearts! Now that's hard launch material right there!! Oh. And he was tagged.

Nicola even gave more birthday love to Valentina, Camilla's dog, than she did to Jake. Sadly Valentina wasn't tagged either... although Camilla was 🥰 BUT, Nicola called Valentina a princess!

Don't worry. Jake's friend Hannah gave him this honourific, so he wasn't left out of the princess fairytale. It must be love!

But wait... there's competition for Jake's love!!

Now these are romantic birthday wishes to Jake, posted by Doug and Dylan the other day.

Clearly the man is loved by his friends. Deservedly so, I'm sure.

But I really, really, really question whether THIS was a hard launch?

Seems to me it was simply a birthday wish for her friend (not lover) Jake. Unfortunately she posted at 6:30am when she was half awake and neglected to tag him. Unlike her spelling-mistake story showing the billboard in Los Angeles, she didn't delete and repost Jake's birthday wish with the missing tag. I guess Luke and Bridgerton's ensemble cast nomination warranted a correctly spelled "Surprise". Deleted; replaced.

Now I ask you; am I really blind? I saw well enough to compile the photos above and make perfect sense of them. I don't see a love-launch of Jake. I see a man living his life, preparing for an amazing lead theatre role. What an opportunity! I also see a man that didn't spend time with Nicola over Christmas, New Years, her birthday, his birthday (according to her, she was in LA. Sure Jan), and today: Valentine's Day. I also see a man who is loved by his friends. Nicola is his friend.

Unless I'm missing something?

So (redacted*)... rather than come over here and rag on the truth I and my Lukola friends see - and that I shared above - why don't you and your little weiner-dog leader fuck the hell off. We know.

P.S. I'm tempted to create some merch for us blind Lukolas! Sarcastic t-shirts and sweatshirt merch is fun 💙 Want one?!

P.S.S. I've redacted the name of this poster because 10 hours after she sent this message to me, she recalled it... just before I was about to post this response. I could have scrapped my post, but she challenged me to SEE the truth. I wanted to oblige. I've redacted her name on the chance that she realized she didn't message me anonymously and so she chickened out and pulled her ask. Or perhaps she thought about Nicola's troll/bully post from yesterday and thought better of her action. Let's give her grace and assume that she came to her senses and not that she's too chicken shit to have her name out there along with her bully behaviour.

Aaniin friends!

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ghstyles · 2 months ago

Text

For Worse or For Worse

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. WC: 6.3K

. Masterlist

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Three days

Three days and Harry was losing his mind. Why wasn’t she responding?

The silence stretched like an eternity. Harry paced the length of their bedroom, phone clutched in his hand as he checked, for what must have been the hundredth time that hour, to see if Y/N had responded to any of his increasingly frantic messages.

Nothing. Not since the brief text she'd sent when boarding her flight. Not a single call, message, or even a social media update to indicate she was okay.

"Fuck!" he swore, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "Something's wrong, I know it."

Grumps looked up from his spot on Y/N's side of the bed, where he'd been sleeping since she left. The cat whined softly, as if sharing Harry's concern.

Harry glanced at the clock—3:17 AM. He'd barely slept since Y/N left, his mind spiraling between anger, worry, and a creeping fear he couldn't shake. Each scenario his brain conjured was worse than the last.

Had she changed her mind about them? Had she decided their relationship wasn't worth pursuing after all? Or was something actually wrong: an accident, an illness, or something that prevented her from reaching out?

He's tried everything—calls that go straight to voicemail, texts that remain unread, even DMs on social platforms that show no sign of being seen. He’d have emailed but he remembered how she once said she rarely checks her email. He’s contacted the airline to confirm her flight landed safely (it did), and considered, in increasingly desperate moments, calling her mother's landline. Only his awareness of how that might seem has stopped him so far. He'd even swallowed his pride and called Jeff, asking if there'd been any unexpected media about Y/N that might explain her silence.

Nothing. It was as if she'd vanished.

Harry dropped onto the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumped with exhaustion and worry. Grumps shuffled over to rest his head on Harry's thigh, offering silent comfort.

"What if she's hurt?" he murmured, scratching behind the cat’s ears. "What if she needs me and I'm just sitting here like a fucking idiot?"

He groaned, falling back into the bed, the ache in his heart growing by the second.

What if the distance has given her perspective, made her realize that their relationship isn't what she wants after all? What if she's using this time away to figure out how to end things when she returns?

"No," he says aloud, rejecting the thought even as it threatens to take root. "That's not it. She wouldn't just disappear."

· · ─────────── ·𖥸· ────────── · ·

Three days earlier - Immediately after landing

Y/N exits the plane, already fumbling in her bag for her phone to call Harry as promised. Her fingers brush against empty fabric where her phone should be, causing immediate panic to rise in her throat.

"No, no, no," she mutters, stepping aside in the jetway to more thoroughly search her bag while other passengers stream past her. She empties the contents: wallet, passport, lip balm, headphones, gum—but no phone.

A flight attendant notices her distress. "Everything alright, miss?"

"I can't find my phone," Y/N explains, trying to keep her voice steady. "I think I left it on the plane."

The attendant helps her look, checking under seats and in seat pockets, but the device is nowhere to be found. A sinking realization hits Y/N—she must have dropped it at the airport, or worse, on the street outside Harry's house during their goodbye.

"I'm so sorry, but we don't have any unclaimed phones," the attendant finally says. "You can leave your information at the lost and found desk."

Y/N nods, thanking the woman despite her growing distress. Harry will be expecting her call. He'll worry when she doesn't reach out.

As she makes her way through the airport, her mother's familiar figure comes into view, waiting beyond security with an excited wave.

"Y/N!" her mother exclaims, pulling her into a tight embrace. "Oh, how I've missed you!"

Y/N returns the hug, momentarily distracted from her phone predicament by the warmth of her mother's embrace.

"I've missed you too, Mom," she says, meaning it deeply despite the undercurrent of anxiety about not being able to contact Harry.

As they collect her luggage, Y/N explains the situation. "I need to call Harry right away. He's expecting to hear from me."

Her mother frowns slightly. "We can try when we get home, but the landline's been acting up since the storm last week. Cell service at the house has always been spotty too, you know that."

Y/N's stomach drops. The costal location of her family home suddenly feels like an insurmountable obstacle.

"Maybe we can stop somewhere on the way? I just need to let him know I'm okay."

"Of course, dear," her mother assures her, though Y/N can see the slight puzzlement in her expression. Her mother still isn't quite convinced that her relationship with Harry is as genuine as Y/N has recently claimed.

___

Day One - Evening

Y/N sits on her childhood bed, frustration mounting as she tries again to place a call from the ancient family computer. The internet connection keeps dropping, the video call attempt failing for the third time.

"Any luck?" her mother asks from the doorway.

Y/N shakes her head, fighting back tears of frustration. "The connection's too weak for a call. I tried sending an email, but I don't even know if it went through."

Her mother sits beside her, placing a comforting hand on her back. "The repair company said they can't get someone out here until after the New Year. But Mrs. Peterson down the road has better service. We can drive over tomorrow and use her phone."

"He must be so worried," Y/N whispers, imagining Harry checking his phone repeatedly, wondering why she hasn't called as promised.

"If he cares for you as much as you say, he'll understand once you explain," her mother says, though Y/N doesn't miss the note of skepticism in her voice. The lingering doubt that Harry Styles could genuinely care for her daughter beyond their contractual arrangement.

Y/N doesn't blame her mother for the doubt. Until recently, she might have shared it. But after Christmas, after seeing the vulnerability in Harry's eyes when he spoke of their future...

"He does care," Y/N says firmly, more to herself than to her mother. "And I need to let him know I'm okay."

___

Day Two

The drive to Mrs. Peterson's house ends in disappointment when they discover the elderly woman has gone to stay with her daughter for the holidays. The local library, their next hope, is closed for renovations.

"The general store has a payphone," Y/N's younger brother suggests during dinner. "Old-school, but it works."

Hope flares in Y/N's chest. "We'll go first thing tomorrow."

Her mother eyes her with growing concern. "You really are worried about him, aren't you? This isn't just about keeping up appearances?"

Y/N meets her mother's gaze steadily. "It's not about appearances, Mom. Not anymore."

For the first time, her mother seems to truly consider the possibility that her daughter's feelings for Harry might be genuine.

"Tell me about him," she requests softly. "The real him, not the celebrity."

Y/N finds herself smiling despite her anxiety, words flowing easily as she describes the Harry she's come to know. His kindness to Grumps, his unexpected cooking skills, the way he listens when she talks about her father, how he remembers the smallest details about things that matter to her.

By the time she finishes, her mother is looking at her with new understanding. "You love him," she says simply. It's not a question.

Y/N doesn't deny it, the truth of it settling in her chest with surprising certainty.

___

Day Three - Morning

The general store's payphone turns out to be out of order, a handwritten sign apologizing for the inconvenience. Y/N barely restrains herself from kicking the useless device in frustration.

"There's got to be some way to contact him," she insists, turning to her mother and brother who've accompanied her on this increasingly desperate quest.

Her brother snaps his fingers suddenly. "What about the internet café in Millfield? It's about an hour's drive, but they should be open."

Y/N nearly hugs him. "Yes! Let's go now."

Her mother hesitates. "The roads to Millfield aren't great after the storm—"

"Mom, please," Y/N interrupts, not bothering to hide the desperation in her voice. "I need to let Harry know I'm okay. He must be going out of his mind by now."

Something in her expression must convey the depth of her concern, because her mother's resistance crumbles.

"Alright," she agrees with a sigh. "But we're taking the SUV, and if the weather turns, we're turning back."

The drive to Millfield is tense, all three of them scanning the horizon for signs of more flooding. When they finally arrive at the small internet café, Y/N nearly leaps from the vehicle, rushing inside with renewed hope.

The café is dimly lit but mercifully open, a handful of computers lining the wall. Y/N approaches the counter, explaining her situation to the bored-looking teenager working the register.

"Twenty minutes for five dollars," he informs her, barely looking up from his own phone.

Y/N hands over the cash and settles at a computer, fingers flying over the keyboard as she logs into her email. She quickly types an email, explaining about her lost phone and the communication difficulties, apologizing repeatedly for the worry she's caused him.

Just as she's about to hit send, the lights flicker ominously. The teenager at the counter looks up with a grimace.

"Power's been going in and out all morning," he explains with a shrug. "Storm's messing with the lines."

Y/N increases her typing speed, desperate to get the message sent before—

The screen goes black as the power cuts completely, plunging the café into darkness except for the gray light filtering through the windows.

"No!" Y/N cries out, slapping the side of the monitor as if that might somehow revive it.

"Sorry," the teenager offers, sounding genuinely apologetic for the first time. "Backup generator's busted. Might be a while before it comes back on."

Y/N slumps in her chair, tears of frustration welling in her eyes. So close, yet still unable to reach Harry.

Her mother approaches, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "We should head back before the roads get worse," she says softly. "We can try again tomorrow."

Y/N nods numbly, allowing herself to be led back to the car. As they drive home through increasingly heavy and dark clouds, she stares out the window, thinking of Harry alone in their house, checking his phone, wondering why she hasn't called.

"He thinks I've abandoned him," she whispers, more to herself than to her family. "That I've changed my mind."

Her mother reaches across to squeeze her hand. "If he loves you, he'll wait for an explanation."

Y/N turns to look at her mother, surprised by the certainty in her voice.

"Do you think he does?" she asks quietly. "Love me, I mean."

Her mother considers this for a moment, eyes on the snowy road ahead. "From what you've told me? Yes, I think he might. And if that's the case, a few days of silence won't change that. Trust me on this."

Y/N wants desperately to believe her mother is right. That the connection she and Harry have built is strong enough to withstand this unexpected test. As they make their slow way back to the family home, she sends a silent promise across the miles separating them: I'll find a way to reach you. Just hold on a little longer.

Knock knock knock

The unexpected knock startled Y/N as she sat in her childhood bedroom, surrounded by old photos and memories. Three days without being able to contact Harry had left her anxious and frustrated. She'd tried using her mother's landline again, but no one answered at their mansion, and she didn't have his personal number memorized. A deliberate defiance in the beginning that she deeply regretted now.

Opening the door, she found a stiff-looking man in an expensive suit, briefcase in hand, his expression professionally neutral.

"Ms. Y/N? I'm the Styles family lawyer sent on their behalf."

Her heartbeat quickened. "Is Harry okay? I lost my phone at the airport and I've been trying to reach him."

The lawyer's expression didn't change as he held out a business card. "Mr. Thomas Blackwood, representing the Styles family interests. May I come in? This is a rather private matter."

Confusion and unease settled in her stomach as she stepped aside. "Of course."

Once seated at her mother's small kitchen table, Mr. Blackwood opened his sleek leather briefcase with methodical precision. He removed a thick manila envelope and a separate document folder bound with a ribbon.

"Mrs. Styles," he began formally, "I've been instructed to deliver these to you directly. The first is a cashier's check for the agreed-upon amount as stipulated in your marriage contract with Mr. Styles."

He slid the envelope across the table. Y/N stared at it, her confusion mounting.

"I don't understand. The contract isn't up for months."

Blackwood's expression remained impassive. "The family has elected to fulfill the financial obligations early. The second item," he continued, placing the bound document before her, "is a petition for uncontested divorce, which the family requests you sign immediately."

The word "divorce" hit Y/N like a physical blow. She stared at the papers, her mind struggling to process what was happening.

"Divorce? But Harry and I just—we decided to—" She stopped herself, unwilling to share the intimate details of Christmas with this stranger. "This doesn't make any sense. I need to speak with Harry."

"I'm afraid Mr. Styles has made his wishes quite clear," Blackwood replied, his tone revealing nothing. "The family believes this arrangement has served its purpose, and continuance would be...unnecessary."

A chill ran through Y/N as the lawyer's words sank in. Harry wanted out? After everything they'd shared? After promising to tear up the contract and try for something real?

Her fingers shook as she reached for the divorce papers, flipping through to see Harry's signature already there on the last page. The sight of it—that familiar scrawl she'd seen countless times on notes he'd left around the house—felt like a betrayal so profound it stole her breath.

"When did he sign these?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm not privy to that information," Blackwood replied smoothly. "I was simply instructed to obtain your signature and inform you that the family appreciates your discretion throughout this process."

"Who sent you here?" she asked, her eyes narrowing.

For the first time, a flicker of discomfort crossed the lawyer's face. "I represent the Styles family interests as a whole. Now, if you could sign where indicated—"

Y/N's thoughts raced. Could Harry really have agreed to this? After the way he'd held her, the vulnerability in his eyes when he'd asked her to come back to him?

But the evidence was right in front of her.

His signature

The lawyer

The check

Had it all been an act? Had he been planning this all along, waiting until she was away to send someone else to do his dirty work?

Hot tears threatened, but she refused to let them fall. Not in front of this man, this messenger for a family that had always seen her as beneath them.

Something cold and hard settles in her chest as she realizes the truth: she'd fallen in love with a man who had apparently been counting the days until he could end their arrangement. While she'd been desperately trying to contact him, worried sick about how her silence might be affecting him, he'd been preparing divorce papers.

"Ms. Y/N?" the lawyer prompts, his impatience barely concealed beneath his professional veneer. "If you have concerns about the settlement terms, I can review them with you, but Mr. Styles has been quite generous."

Of course he has, Y/N thinks bitterly. Money has never been an issue for Harry. It's always been about what he can buy with it. Including, apparently, a convenient temporary wife who was foolish enough to believe she might become something more.

Her mother hovers in the doorway, clearly distressed by the scene unfolding in her living room. "Y/N, honey, maybe you should think about this. Wait until you can speak with Harry directly—"

"There's nothing to discuss," Y/N interrupts, her voice steadier than she expected as she reaches for the pen. "This was always the arrangement. A business deal."

The lawyer nods approvingly as she signs her name beside Harry's, the finality of the action sending a wave of nausea through her.

Each scratch of the pen felt like another crack in her heart. By the time she signed the final page, Y/N felt hollow inside, the pain so acute it had circled around to numbness.

"Excellent," Blackwood said, gathering the documents with practiced efficiency. "The divorce should be finalized within six to eight weeks, given the prenuptial agreement and the uncontested nature. The funds are yours to keep regardless, as stipulated in your original contract."

Y/N barely hears him, her eyes fixed on the coffee table where the document had been moments before. Had she imagined the past few months? The gradual softening between them, the genuine connection that had formed beneath the contractual obligation?

"Is there anything else you need from me?" she asks, desperate now for this man to leave, to take his briefcase and his paperwork and his clinical dismantling of her heart away with him.

"No, that's all," he confirms, standing and extending his hand for a formal shake that Y/N mechanically returns. "On behalf of the Styles family, I wish you all the best. They appreciate your cooperation in this matter."

The Styles family. Not Harry specifically. Something about the phrasing nags at the back of her mind, but she's too numb to examine it closely.

After he left, Y/N sat motionless at the table, staring at the envelope containing the check.

The price tag for her heart, apparently.

As her mother shows the lawyer out, Y/N remains seated, staring blankly ahead. The tears will come back later, she knows. Right now, she's suspended in a state of shock that mercifully dulls the edges of her pain.

Her mother returns, sitting beside her and taking her hand in a gentle grip. "Oh, sweetheart. I'm so sorry."

Y/N turns to her, confusion and hurt warring in her expression. "He didn't even wait to tell me himself. To explain why."

Her mother's face darkens with anger. "That's not the action of someone who cared about you, despite what you told me."

The words sting because they force Y/N to confront the possibility that she'd been wrong. That the moments of tenderness, of apparent genuine connection, had been manufactured by a man accustomed to playing whatever role was required of him.

"I thought—" she begins, but her voice cracks as the first tears finally break through her shock. "I really thought he..."

She can't finish the sentence, can't admit aloud how completely she'd been fooled. Her mother pulls her into a tight embrace, murmuring soothing words as Y/N finally allows herself to break down, her body shaking with the force of her sobs.

Slowly, the sadness began to recede, replaced by a building anger. How dare he? How dare Harry make her believe they had something real, only to discard her like this—sending a lawyer while she was hundreds of miles away, unable to even confront him?

Fine. If this was what Harry wanted, she'd give it to him. She wouldn't call again. She wouldn't beg for explanations. She'd take the money—money she desperately needed for her mother's medical bills—and she'd move on with her life, just as she'd always planned to do once their arrangement ended.

___

Back in London, Harry's phone chimed with an incoming call from his mother. He considered ignoring it. He wasn't in the mood for another lecture about Y/N's continued absence but reluctantly answered on the fourth ring.

"Mother," he greeted tersely, exhaustion evident in his voice.

"Harry, darling," Anne's voice was unusually warm, almost triumphant. "I’m so happy. How did you get rid of her so soon? How did you get her to not only sign but initiate the divorce"

Harry's blood ran cold. "What are you talking about?"

“What? You didn’t hear? Our lawyer just called and said Y/N called him and asked for the divorce papers to sign. Since you had signed them from the beginning it was easy. She even took the check. This calls for a celebration!”

Harry felt like his heart was being ripped out. It didn’t help that Grumps was purring in his lap

Harry felt the floor drop out from beneath him, his mother's words hitting like physical blows. His grip on the phone tightened until his knuckles turned white.

"What. Divorce. Papers?" he managed to get out, each word clipped and sharp.

Anne's laugh tinkled through the speaker, light and unconcerned. "Oh, don't play coy, darling. The ones you signed months at the beginning. We always kept them ready for when she inevitably showed her true colors."

Harry's mind raced, trying to make sense of what his mother was saying. Papers he'd signed months ago? He vaguely remembered signing a stack of documents Jeff had presented early in their marriage—something about asset protection that seemed standard at the time.

"You...you had divorce papers drawn up without telling me?" The realization dawned slowly, horror creeping through his veins like ice water.

"Of course I did," Anne replied, her tone suggesting this was perfectly reasonable. "I was protecting you, as I've always done. And thank goodness I did! The moment she's away from you, she's calling our lawyers, asking about money and divorce. Just as I predicted."

Grumps shifted in Harry's lap, whining softly as he sensed the tension in his human's body. Harry absently stroked the cat's head, trying to steady himself as rage and disbelief battled for dominance.

"She contacted our lawyers? When?"

"Today! Thomas just called me. Said she was surprisingly eager to sign everything. Barely even read the papers. Just wanted to know where to sign and if she could keep the money." Anne's voice dripped with satisfaction. "I told you she was only after your fortune, darling."

Harry's free hand curled into a fist, his breathing becoming shallow as the implications sank in. Something didn't add up. The Y/N who'd melted into his arms on Christmas Eve, who'd looked at him with such tenderness before leaving for her trip. That woman wouldn't do this. Not without a word of explanation. Not without at least the courtesy of a conversation.

But a treacherous voice in the back of his mind whispers: Wouldn't she? After three days of silence? After leaving with barely a backward glance? Perhaps this is the reason she hasn't called. She's been planning her exit strategy all along.

"Did she say why?" he asked, fighting to keep his voice level. "Why she suddenly wanted a divorce?"

"Does it matter?" Anne dismissed. "The important thing is we're rid of her. I've already called the PR team to prepare a statement about an amicable separation. We'll need to get ahead of any narrative she might try to spin."

"Where is she now?" he demands, pushing the doubts aside. "I need to speak with her directly."

Anne's laugh is light and dismissive. "That's the beauty of it, darling. She specifically requested no contact. Thomas said she was quite clear about that. And really, it's for the best. Clean break and all that."

Harry stops pacing, a terrible coldness spreading through his chest. "You're lying," he says again, but with less conviction this time. "This has your fingerprints all over it. What did you do, Mother?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Harry. She wanted out. Thomas said she practically snatched the pen from his hand."

The image of Y/N eagerly signing away their marriage cuts him deeper than he would have thought possible even a few weeks ago.

"I don't believe you," he says, though uncertainty threads through his voice now. "Y/N wouldn't—"

"Wouldn't what? Take the money and run? That's exactly what that sort of girl does, Harry. I told you from the start—"

"Stop!" Harry interrupts, his voice rising to a shout that startles Grumps into darting from the room. "Don't you dare speak about her like that. You don't know her. You've never even tried to know her."

There's a loaded silence on the line before Anne speaks again, her voice tight with controlled anger.

"I know enough. And apparently, so did she. The papers are signed, Harry. It's done. You should be thanking me for facilitating such a clean exit from what was clearly becoming a messy situation."

Harry closes his eyes, breathing heavily through his nose as he tries to regain control of his emotions. The betrayal cut deeper than he'd thought possible. Had he been such a fool? Had their connection been nothing more than his imagination? The memory of Y/N's smile, the warmth of her skin against his, the way she'd promised to return to him—had it all been a lie?

"I have to go," he said abruptly, unable to bear his mother's triumphant tone for another second.

"Shall I come over? We could open that bottle of Cristal I've been saving—"

"No," he cut her off sharply. "No, I...I need to be alone right now."

He hung up without waiting for her response, letting the phone slip from his fingers onto the couch beside him. Grumps looked up, concerned by the sudden stillness that had overtaken his human.

Harry sat in stunned silence, trying to reconcile the Y/N he thought he knew with the woman his mother described. The calculating, mercenary who was only interested in what she could get from him.

It didn't track. None of it made sense. The Y/N who'd challenged him at every turn, who'd seen through his defenses and called him on his bullshit. She wouldn't take the coward's way out. She wouldn't avoid confrontation like this.

Unless...unless she'd never felt what he thought she had. Unless Christmas had been a momentary weakness, and distance had given her clarity.

The thought twisted in his gut like a knife. Harry pushed Grumps gently off his lap and stood, needing to move, to do something with the energy coursing through him. He paced the living room, mind racing between hurt, anger, and confusion.

If she wanted out so badly, why not just tell him to his face? Why the silent treatment, the sneaking around with lawyers while he'd been going out of his mind with worry?

Harry grabbed his phone again, dialing Y/N's number even knowing it was futile. The familiar automated message played: "The number you have dialed is not in service..."

Of course. How convenient.

A surge of anger propelled him across the room to the bar cart, where he poured himself a generous measure of whiskey. He downed it in one burning swallow, welcoming the heat that spread through his chest—anything to counteract the cold emptiness taking root there.

His mother's words echoed in his head: "She was surprisingly eager to sign everything." The image of Y/N calmly signing away their marriage while he'd been losing sleep over her safety made his stomach turn.

Harry poured another drink, his movements growing more aggressive as hurt crystallized into anger. Fine. If this was what she wanted, he wouldn't chase her. He wouldn't beg. He had his pride, after all—what was left of it after falling for someone who clearly saw him as nothing more than a meal ticket.

He raised his glass in a bitter toast to the empty room. "To freedom, then," he muttered, the words tasting like ash in his mouth.

As the alcohol began to dull the edges of his pain, Harry's phone lit up with a text from Jeff:

"Just heard from Anne. Need to discuss statement ASAP. Available tomorrow morning?"

Harry stared at the message, reality sinking in with crushing weight. This was happening. Y/N had signed divorce papers. Their marriage was over before it had really begun.

He didn't respond to Jeff's text. Instead, he took his drink and walked out to the balcony overlooking the darkened garden. The night air was cold, biting at his skin, but he welcomed the discomfort. It was better than the hollowness spreading through him.

Somewhere, miles away, Y/N was probably celebrating her newfound freedom—and wealth. The thought made him drain his glass, the burn of alcohol no match for the burn of betrayal.

· · ─────────── ·𖥸· ────────── · ·

In her mother's small house, Y/N sat on the edge of her childhood bed, staring blankly at the wall. Her eyes were red-rimmed from crying, but the tears had finally stopped, leaving behind a numb emptiness that seemed to echo through her entire body.

Her mother had offered comfort, outrage, and finally practical advice: "Sleep on it. Things often look clearer in the morning."

But Y/N doubted any amount of sleep would make this situation clearer. Harry had signed divorce papers—had them ready and waiting. While he'd been holding her, kissing her, making her believe they had a future, he'd already prepared for their end.

And he couldn't even face her himself. Instead, he'd waited until she was hundreds of miles away, vulnerable and unreachable, to send his lawyer to do his dirty work.

The betrayal cut so deep precisely because she'd begun to believe in him.

In them

She'd let down her guard, allowed herself to hope for something real, only to have that hope shattered in the most humiliating way possible.

Y/N glanced at the envelope containing the cashier's check, still sitting unopened on her nightstand. Part of her wanted to tear it up, to reject his blood money and the implications that came with it. But the practical part of her—the part that remembered her mother's mounting medical bills and the mortgage payments she'd fallen behind on. Knew she couldn't afford such a gesture.

He'd bought her, used her, and now he was discarding her with a payout. Just as their arrangement had always intended. The fact that she'd foolishly begun to believe it was more was her own fault.

Tomorrow, she decided, she would deposit the check. She would call her mother's doctor and arrange to pay off the outstanding bills. She would contact the mortgage company and bring the payments current.

And then? Then she would figure out how to piece her heart back together.

For now, though, she simply lay back on her bed, staring at the ceiling as the weight of everything she'd lost pressed down on her chest until it became difficult to breathe.

· · ─────────── ·𖥸· ────────── · ·

One month crawled by, each day bleeding into the next with a sameness that should have been numbing but somehow wasn't. The pain remained fresh, a wound that refused to heal.

Harry stood at the window of his studio, guitar abandoned on the couch behind him. He'd been trying to write—something, anything to channel the maelstrom of emotions that had been his constant companion since that phone call with his mother. The pages of his notebook remained stubbornly blank, save for a few crossed-out lines, coffee stains, and tear stains.

Jeff had been pushing for a public statement about the divorce. The PR team had drafted three different versions, each more sanitized than the last.

"mutual decision"

"remain friends"

"ask for privacy during this time"

All the usual celebrity divorce platitudes that said nothing while pretending to say something.

Harry had rejected them all. Announcing the divorce felt too...final. As if speaking it into existence would somehow make it more real than it already was. As if there would be no coming back from it once the world knew.

His phone buzzed on the table, probably Jeff again, wondering why the statement wasn't approved yet. Harry ignored it, taking another sip of cold coffee instead.

Sleep had become a distant acquaintance, visiting briefly and unreliably in the small hours of the morning. Dark circles had taken up permanent residence under his eyes, and his usually meticulous appearance had given way to an unkempt beard and wrinkled clothes.

The house felt impossibly empty without her. Even with Grumps moving around, scratching occasionally at Y/N's closed closet door, the silence was deafening. Harry found himself accidentally making tea for two, setting out two plates for dinner, turning to share a thought with someone who wasn't there.

The anger had faded somewhat, leaving behind a confused hurt that was almost worse. In his darker moments, he imagined Y/N living it up somewhere, spending his money, laughing about how easily she'd played him. But those thoughts never lasted long. They didn't align with the woman he knew. The woman who'd challenged him, surprised him, seen through his carefully constructed walls.

Something still didn't add up. In his more lucid moments, usually after the first coffee of the day but before exhaustion set in again, Harry would try to piece together what had happened. His mother's triumphant tone. The divorce papers he apparently signed months ago. Y/N's sudden decision to end things without so much as a conversation.

He'd tried calling her mother's house twice more, hanging up when the answering machine picked up. Pride and hurt kept him from leaving a message. What would he even say? "Why did your daughter rip my heart out? Was any of it real?"

With a sigh, Harry picked up his phone, scrolling to his last photo of Y/N. Taken on Christmas Eve, her face illuminated by the firelight, a soft smile playing at her lips as she looked at something off-camera. His thumb hovered over the delete button, as it had dozens of times over the past month. And, as always, he couldn't bring himself to press it.

Instead, he put the phone down and reached for his guitar again. Maybe today the words would come.

· · ─────────── ·𖥸· ────────── · ·

In her mother's modest house, Y/N sat at the kitchen table, surrounded by paperwork. Medical bills marked "PAID," mortgage statements showing a zero balance, and a stack of brochures from nearby community colleges.

The money from Harry had done what it was supposed to do: provide financial stability and a fresh start. Her mother's medical bills were paid in full, the mortgage was current with a buffer, and there was enough left over for Y/N to consider going back to school. Something that had seemed like an impossible dream just months ago.

By all accounts, she should have felt relieved, even happy. The weight of financial worry that had been her constant companion for years had lifted. She should have been celebrating her freedom, her new beginning.

Instead, she felt hollow. The relief of financial security couldn't fill the void that Harry's absence had left. The house that had once been her safe haven now felt like a cage, each room filled with memories she couldn't escape—her father's death, her mother's illness, and now, the bitter end of what she'd foolishly begun to believe was a real relationship.

Her mother entered the kitchen, moving much more easily now after a month of proper physical therapy. She took one look at Y/N's face and sighed.

"You're thinking about him again," she observed, not unkindly.

Y/N shook her head, gathering the papers into a neat stack. "Just organizing."

"Mm-hmm," her mother hummed disbelievingly, sitting down across from her. "You know, for someone who's supposedly relieved to be out of a fake marriage, you've been doing an awful lot of sighing and staring into space."

"I'm fine," Y/N insisted, the words so practiced they came automatically now. "Just tired."

Her mother reached across the table, placing a weathered hand over Y/N's. "Sweetheart, I've known you your entire life. I know when you're heartbroken."

Y/N pulled her hand away, standing abruptly. "I'm not heartbroken. I'm angry. There's a difference."

"Is there?" her mother asked softly.

Y/N didn't answer, busying herself with making tea she didn't want just to have something to do with her hands. The truth was, she didn't know what she felt anymore. The hurt and betrayal had become so familiar they were almost comforting in their constancy.

Her phone, a new one, with a new number, chimed with a notification. For a split second, her heart leapt with the irrational hope that somehow, impossibly, it might be Harry. But of course, it wasn't. It was just a reminder about an upcoming doctor's appointment for her mother.

Y/N stared at the screen, trying to ignore the crushing disappointment. This was her life now. Practical. Responsible. Safe. No more fantasy, no more pretending she belonged in Harry's world. To Harry

So why couldn't she stop wondering what he was doing? Why did she still reach for her phone instinctively when she saw something that would make him laugh? Why did she still wake up in the middle of the night, reaching across an empty bed for someone who had never really been hers to begin with?

The kettle whistled, startling her from her thoughts. She poured the boiling water over a tea bag, watching the color seep out in swirling tendrils. Like her life with Harry—vibrant and beautiful, but ultimately just something temporary dissolving away.

Her mother watched her with knowing eyes but said nothing more. They both knew there was nothing left to say. Whatever had happened between Y/N and Harry was over. All that remained was to move forward. Even if moving forward felt like walking through quicksand, each step requiring more energy than she had to give.

· · ─────────── ·𖥸· ────────── · ·

A/N: So…the weather?

I know this is shorter than usual, but I wanted to get this one out first before proceeding with the rest. I promise it gets better 🙏🏻

hehe

Taglist: @mysunflowerposts @lydiasfalling @panini @ell0ra-br3kk3r @donutsandpalmtrees @sunshinemoonsposts @angeldavis777 @fangirl509east @maudie-duan @indierockgirrl @harryssunflower17 @lizsogolden @daphnesutton @spinninc @behindmygreyeyes @wheredidmyeyesgo @matildasatellite @drewrry @inlikea-coolway @jerseygirlinca

#fwfw #ghstyles #harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #one direction #harry styles angst #harry styles au #harry styles x you

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thewertsearch · 4 months ago

Text

In public, you and your DAD made quite the pair. Everyone could tell by a glance that you were your father's daughter, sired from his loins directly and genetically, through what was undoubtedly a natural process of human procreation involving a man and a woman.

Jane doesn't have a biological father - but she does have a biological son who's currently unaccounted for. Perhaps, instead of becoming her grandfather, John's post-reboot self is actually her father, explaining their family resemblance.

You've got a lot of Problem Sleuth stuff, because you think detective stories are just so swell. This was the last panel in the first story, which ended a little before your 13th birthday. Since then, the author has been steadily updating PROBLEM SLEUTH 2, which you have been following avidly. You are happy that he stayed in that lane, and stuck with a time-tested formula. If he went in a different direction, you probably would have found it really disappointing.

Heh. Well, I loved Problem Sleuth, so I'd probably have loved its direct sequel just as much. It probably wouldn't have had Homestuck's spark, though, so I'm glad we live in the timeline where Hussie made a different decision.

The TOBIAS and the MANHATTAN were gifts for your 14th birthday, sent to you by your good buddy Jake.

Alright, this is pretty fucking funny.

I like Jake, even if he does turn out to be a servant of Lord English later on.

There is also your magnificent SWANSON. Ron Swanson is the PERFECT MAN.

Parks & Rec is alright, I guess. I’m more of a Good Place gal.

You love your fancy spoon. It has several million recipes stored in it, and walks you through each step with a soothing female robot voice, just like in science fiction. Some urban legends say that the device also broadcasts subliminal messages distributing OMINOUS CROCKERCORP PROPAGANDA, but you don't put any stock in that sort of baloney for a second.

So we've got an entirely new type of mind control on our hands. That's awesome, that is.

Perhaps these subluminals are why Jane is such a big Crockercorp fan in the first place. Nanna seemed naturally inclined towards simple living, so I highly doubt Jane's corporate aspirations developed organically.

There is one switch on it that doesn't seem to do anything. Maybe yours is defective?

Don't worry, Jane...

...I've seen this one before, and I know how to fix it.

#homestuck liveblog #full liveblog #act 6 #s178 #4125 #jake. why did you give your bestie a dick-out doctor manhattan.

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akutasoda · 11 months ago

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Heyeyey can I request boothill, Sunday and aventurine with a fem s/o who’s always on her phone? Like even when it’s charging or even when they’re cuddling she just has to be on her phone?

screentime overload

synopsis - how are they with a s/o who cannot put their phone down?

includes - aventurine, sunday, boothill

warnings - fem!reader (no pronouns used), fluff, crack, wc - 721

aventurine ★↷

↪he can be a bit of a fifty fifty when it comes to his phone. normally the only time he uses it is for IPC relevant things, messaging you or ratio and if he's really bored, mindless scrolling. his work can keep him rather busy and so he doesn't exactly have the time to sit around all day.

↪so he found it quite amusing to a degree when he noticed how absorbed you were in your phone. it really didn't take long for him to notice how you practically treated it as a lifeline because no matter where you were your phone was near aswell - more accurately near to your line of sight.

↪it did bring him some comfort in knowing that you would always see his messages because he could always take an accurate guess that you were on your phone and able to respond as quick as possible.

↪however he did find it quite ridiculous that sometimes he'd find you curled up by your charger, phone still in hand. surely you had other things to be doing? maybe you're phone needed a break from you eventually?

↪it didn't bother him per say, but he would prefer it if, when he saw you after a while, that you actually make the effort to pry your gaze from your phone and to him.

↪sometimes he can be quite the menace, especially when, in the morning, you wake up and search for your phone but don't get very far as aventurine would have you in a near death grip hug.

sunday ★↷

↪definitely isn't a phone kind of person. sure he has one but it's mainly for work or managing the dreamscape and most likely only had a couple of actual contacts - yours and robins. he probably could go very happily without his phone.

↪and so he truly doesn't understand why you're so attached to yours. at first he thought that you probably had something going on that needed managing, but when he saw you day in and day out staring down at your screen, he got slightly worried and confused.

↪it baffled him that you could actually spend so much time staring down at that screen but eventually he started getting more concerned that you were causing permanent damage to your eyes. he's the type of person who would tell you about the damage phones can do to you when he sees you laser focused on your phone.

↪in a similar way, he does find a slight comfort in knowing that if he needs to reach you he can. the one day you don't actually get his messages and respond very quickly is the day he panics.

↪sunday isn't exactly the keenest when it comes to physical affection, but when he does come around and finally gets time off to spend with you, he does not want you on your phone for that. if you get unlucky he might start contemplating hiding your phone.

boothill ★↷

↪another fifty fifty. he isn't exactly literate and so any messages are sent via voice recordings and such, this also probably means that he doesn't spend that much time on his phone in general - especially as a galaxy ranger who has bounties to hunt instead.

↪that being said, his phone gets put through the wringer alot. it isn't exactly his top priority in keeping safe when on a mission, so he either loses it or it gets very badly damaged to the point that sometimes you can't even tell it was meant to be a phone.

↪so he did struggle a bit to to comprehend how and why you spent so much time on your phone. he only started getting annoyed when he realised that your phone was robbing him from your affection and time. boothill did once threaten to eat your phone.

↪he still finds it very ridiculous that you spend so much time in your phone, especially when he has caught you multiple times using your phone while it's charging or when you really shouldn't be.

↪but he doesn't mind too much as long as you actually still give him some affection and don't spend that time with your phone in hand again - especially when he gets time to return to you after hunting a bounty or two.

taglist - @little-miss-chaoss, @frankiesteinn

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imastrangeone98 · 1 year ago

Text

Homecoming

(A/N: boothill my cyborg my love my life my everything-)

WARNING: fem!reader, SMUT SMUT FRESH OFF THE PLATE MINORS GTFO ILL WHOOP YO BUTTS, probably ooc!boothill but whatever it's fine lmao, his exact birth name isn't known so I didn't put a name for him- if there is one I'll replace it; but I found some X art that called his baby girl "cherry" and I really liked it so I'll use that, and way too much plot as always

"Well, hello there! What'cha lookin' at, sweetie?" You bend down to the little girl's eye level, peeking at where the child's gaze is locked on, then smiling in understanding. "You like those ones? They're moon lilies; they're flowers that are really special!"

"Pe... shal?" the little girl babbles, and you laugh.

"Yes, dear. Special." You pluck one of the flowers, beautiful with light blue petals and golden pollen, and offer it to her. "They mean loyalty, and undying devotion, because they only grow in places they like, and they won't grow anywhere else."

"Loya..." the girl mumbles. You chuckle and pick her up, carefully tucking the flower behind her ear.

"Now, where's your mama? Or your papa? I'm sure they're worried sick about-"

"Cherry! Sweet pea, where ya at?!"

Your ears prick, and the girl giggles and claps at the sound. "Well, I guess we found him."

You maneuver through the crowd until you find the source of the call: a man, tall and lean, with flowing black-and-white hair and piercing gray eyes.

Oh. He's beautiful.

The little girl squeals with delight at the sight of her father, and his head whips towards your direction. He sprints over to you and takes the child in his arms, pressing her close to his chest.

"There ya are, ya little rascal! What'd I tell ya about runnin' off?! Ya had me worried sick!" He kisses her forehead, then looks at you. "Thanks, I would've lost her without ya."

"Of course!" You wave it off, hoping he doesn't notice your hot cheeks. "I will say, she has good taste in flowers! If you'd ever like to buy a bouquet, you should bring her along!"

"Flowers? Oh..." He looks at his daughter, finally noticing the moon lily tucked in her hair. His cheeks flush a bright red. "Aw, man, I'm sorry for the trouble, I can pay for it-"

"Oh, don't worry about it, it's on the house! But I do hope this won't be the last time I see her!" You wave at her, and she giggles.

The man laughs at that. "I'm sure she wouldn't mind." He then stretches out his hand to you. "I'm [???]."

"(Y/N)."

He repeats your name slowly, thoughtfully, then smirks. "Guess I'll be seeing you around, lady."

"I'll be looking forward to it, cowboy."

Your eyes crack open.

Instead of a bustling marketplace, you're in a small shack in the middle of nowhere.

Just a memory.

You rise, body aching with fatigue and heartache, but you force yourself to push it to the side.

There's work to be done. You grab your phone and send a message.

ML: The USB is ready. I'll leave it at the usual place.

BH: ca nt maek it cme her

You stare at the coordinates your contact sent you with a groan.

You don't do face-to-face, too much risk. And the information you collected is time-sensitive; you're not sure if you'll be able to make it to the abandoned planet of Mavorosa in time for it to still be valuable, and your spaceship isn't one meant for such great lengths.

But this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity: Oswaldo Schneider is likely to make an appearance at the upcoming IPC Centennial Gala, and BH has proven themself capable of terminating that sick bastard.

You know you're not strong enough to do it yourself, but BH is. And anyone capable of taking down the son of a bitch who destroyed your home, your planet, your lover, is worthy of your trust.

So you bite your lip and bear it. You'll work something out.

ML: ok. I'll be there tomorrow @ 18:00, don't be late.

BH: k

You roll your eyes. Never mind.

With a heavy sigh, you carefully take out the picture/ only one you have of him. With your little girl in one arm and the other wrapped around your waist, he stares back at you with a grin. Bright, beautiful, alive.

"Don't worry, darling," you whisper, tracing the lines of his cheek and hair on the photograph. "We're one step closer to our goal. That bastard's a dead man walking now that we got BH on the case. They're good; strong and capable, I know they'll get the job done for us."

You gently press your lips over his image. And for a brief moment, you let yourself pretend that the paper is a good replacement for his callous skin.

"Once everything's done, I'll go over and join you and our girl. We'll be together again, I'm sure."

He smiles eternally at you, and you find yourself smiling back.

"Wish me luck, darling. Help me be strong."

[...]

His little girl adores you.

Each time he comes by the market, the first thing she whines for is to see the flowers. And you always indulge her, lifting her in your arms so you can show her all the pretty little blooms you have in your small cart. You give names to each one, tell her what they mean as though she understands you.

And you laugh. And he finds himself thinking that his little girl is a good judge of character, because he's starting to adore you too.

And it's becoming obvious, since Nick and Gray give him the occasional nab and jab, wondering out loud when they're going to see him get married and give them another grandchild. His siblings too, always cackling and yapping about how he might be the first to hang up his boots and settle down.

He rolls his eyes, but he's not too displeased by the idea. You're soft and sweet, with a kick of spice to match- the thought of settling down with you and Cherry on the farm is surprisingly sweet.

So he leaves Cherry to her loving grandparents and invites you out on a moonlit stroll through the hillside meadow, the one with the perfect view of the blooming moon lilies and the spring lake that reflects the starry night sky.

"I've never been here before," you gasp in awe, eyes aglow as you absorb the scenery. "It's beautiful."

"Yeah," he murmurs, gaze fixated on you and the moonlight in your eyes. "You are."

You turn your head, and your eyes meet. "Huh? Did you say something?"

"N- nothin'!" He faces the lake, and hopes you don't notice his red cheeks. "Said nothin'."

You laugh, and god, he melts at the sound. Then you rub the back of your head, and turn away, blushing. "I... I think you're very beautiful too."

His brain short-circuits. "Pretty... you think I'm..." Then he gasps dramatically. "So you did hear that! You sneaky mouse!"

He playfully tackles you, and you both laugh and chortle as you wrestle one another to the ground. But then he opens his eyes and finds himself on top of you, hands intertwined, faces so close he can feel your breath, smell your moon lily scent.

The moonlight bathes you in silver, and god, he wants to kiss you. He wants to kiss you senseless, run his callous hands on your soft skin, wrap your plush thighs around his hips and-

"Can I...?" he whispers, weak and wanting. "Just... just a taste, I swear..."

You stare up at him, eyes so big and wide that he swears the moon itself disappeared to light up your gaze, that he doesn't notice you untangling your hands from his until you wrap your arms around his neck.

"Just a taste, cowboy?" you tease. "You don't wanna try... anything else?"

You raise your hips and grind on his pelvis, and he moans and kisses you, hard.

Eager hands dart across skin, tearing off clothes. He runs his hands over your plush tummy, hooks your thighs around his hips and moans when he finally enters you.

He'll never forget this moment. Even if he were to die and be reborn, he'll never forget you. Your pleasured moans as he slides himself inside your tight heat, your teary smile as you open your arms to let him press his chest against yours, your starry eyes so full of love and desire that mirror his own.

You make love for hours, the stars and moon lilies your only witnesses.

"-hill. Boothill."

His eyes crack open.

Instead of a blooming moon lily meadow, he's in the underground repair shop.

Just a memory.

He rises with a groan, mechanical joints creaking from the lack of use. "Done already? I was havin' quite the nice dream."

The mechanic rolls her eyes. "Yeah, I can tell. Anyway, speed upgrades are done; the rest of your body is the same- sensory receptors are good, memory chip still intact, et cetera."

She rambles on and on; he's used to tuning her out at this point. As long as his body is in peak condition, he doesn't need to know what else extra she's stacked on him.

"-and the dick. Make sure to test it out at some point."

He blinks. "What'd ya say?"

She groans. "The dick, Boothill. Make sure to test it."

"What dick are ya talking about? If you're trying to say I'm a piece of shi-"

"I added a dick attachment to your body, dumbass." She points towards his crotch. "I had an extra one that I really need to get rid of, so I'm giving it to you. Use it, rip it up and toss it, I don't care- just get it off my back!"

And with no further explanation, the mechanic practically throws him out the store, slamming the door with extra ferocity. Boothill lies on the ground, blinking a few times in shock, before checking his pants, and lo and behold, there is a silicone dick attachment. Sensory receptors and everything, he hisses when he pokes lightly at it, the wires in his body jittering at the unfamiliar sensation.

Doe eyes and a teary smile flash in the back of his mind.

He suddenly jumps to his feet with a vengeance and slams on the door. "You cheating, deceitful shirt-bag! Take this fudging thing off right now! You hear me, woman?! Take this shirt off right now!"

He's no doubt starting a commotion, a crowd drawing in to witness his rage-induced ranting and raving. But then his phone dings, and he's forced to put a pin in it, taking out the shitty device to hear the alarm: Meeting with ML @ 18:00! Meeting with ML @ 18:00! Be there or be square!

Ah, shit.

He can't miss this meeting, not even to blow a hole right between that shitty mechanic's eyebrows. ML is too valuable to lose, having provided him with incredibly detailed information on Oswaldo Schneider and the IPC time and again. Almost as if they have an agenda against that sick bastard as well.

Well. The enemy of an enemy is a friend, right? He'll take what he can get. And if they end up turning their back, well, he's sure his bullet is faster than their legs.

So he leans to the door, whispers a deadly "I'll be back for you, baby," and dashes to his spaceship to head over to Mavorosa.

And as he's prepping for flight, he looks over at the picture on the dashboard.

It's the only one Boothill has of you. The three of you, together- him holding little Cherry in one arm and your waist in the other, you wrapping your arms around him and your baby girl with your sweet smile and moon lily eyes.

He brushes a metal fingertip over your face.

"Just hang in there, moon lily," he whispers, a clump in his throat. "We're one step closer; ML's got some good intel on the son of a nice lady that destroyed our planet- our home. That destroyed you."

Boothill lost the ability to cry long ago, but the corners of his eyes itch all the same. He gnaws on his lip so hard, drops of blue blood trickle down his chin.

"I swear to you, darlin', I'm gonna get our revenge against that beautiful bench. He'll wish he never set his filthy sights on our home once I'm through with him." He gently picks up the photo and presses his lips to your image. "And then I'll come home. To Cherry, Nick and Gray, my siblings. I'll come home to you. We'll get started on that house we talked about, maybe some runts so Cherry can be a big sister..."

He swallows, then carefully puts the photo back on the dashboard. The lump doesn't disappear, so once the spaceship is cruising through the stars to Mavorosa, he sets it on autopilot and descends into the belly to go to his chest of valuables. He opens it up and delicately takes out the moon lily crown.

The one he was working on for you, a promise of his undying devotion. Before the world exploded in fire and ash. Before the IPC decimated his family, the moon lily meadow... decimated you.

He closes his eyes and raises it to his face. Even preserved, the petals are still soft to the touch, and smell just as lovely.

Just like you.

He won't let your death be in vain. He won't.

The lump in his metal chest morphs into rage.

Boothill opens his eyes.

[...]

If not for the Stellaron, Mavorosa would be a wonderful planet. A once lively city now stands abandoned, its skyscrapers and glass structures being embraced by nature once again.

You stand on the rooftop, mask and voice synthesizer on, fidgeting with the USB, simply observing everything when-

"So this is what you look like. I thought you'd be bigger," a male voice calls behind you.

Your body freezes. That voice... it sounds like...

No. You must be wrong. Maybe you've been so lonely that every male voice just starts to sound like your deceased lover.

"I thought you'd be here earlier," you reply with your warped voice. "Time is precious to you and me both, BH."

"Sorry, had to wrap up some... personal stuff on my end. I'm here now, ain't I?" The oh-so-familiar yet distant voice chuckles. "Well. Business ain't gonna settle itself. Where's the drive?"

"Where's the payment? We both know I don't work free."

He huffs. "Yeah, yeah, I hear ya. Don't worry, I got your cash. Just fork over the drive, no need to make things difficult, not after everything, yeah? Haven't I earned your trust by now?"

"You realize how difficult face-to-face is? It takes a substantial amount of effort to get this intel, not to mention the possibility of being-" You turn around in your exasperation-

And you drop the USB.

Tall and metal. Flowing black-and-white hair. Piercing gray-and-red eyes. Sharp teeth.

"Y'know, I've always wanted to be a gunslinger, just like Nick," [???] cackled, whipping out his revolver and making dramatic poses with it. "Maybe be one of those boothills of legend."

"I'd rather you not," you murmured as you brushed off some dirt off of his shirt. "Those boothills always died on their feet. I'd rather you not die at all."

He softened, and with a smile, he put down his gun and sidled up to you, bringing you in his embrace, warm and strong. You breathed in his comforting scent and sighed happily.

"Don't you worry about that, hun." He kissed your cheek, then square on your mouth. "I ain't goin' nowhere. You can't get rid of me that easy!"

BH. Boothill.

How could you not notice earlier?

Your mouth dries. You can't move a muscle.

It's him. Mechanical, but very much alive.

"Hey, watch the merchandise!" he hisses, pointing at the fallen USB. "I need that, don't you forget it!"

"How are you..." you weakly gasp, then you grab the USB. "Here. Take it. Forget the money."

You slide it over to him, and he stops it with his foot. But his eyes narrow at you.

"Whaddaya mean, 'How are you,' huh?" He walks towards you, slow and leisurely, like a coyote cornering its helpless prey. "You say that like you're shocked I'm still around. What'd ya do, huh? Sell me off to the IPC?"

"No!" you cry, shocked. "I would never-!"

"Why so jittery, partner? What are you hiding?" He smirks, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "How about a show of trust, huh? You take off that cute little mask of yours, I don't shoot you dead, and we keep our little arrangement goin'. Sound fair?"

You turn around, eyes searching for an escape route.

Aeons above, you need to leave. You can't show him your face. You can't remind him of everything he lost, the people he couldn't save. You can't hurt him any more than you already have. You're afraid. You want to hide. You're selfish. You want to tell him. You're in love.

You want to die. You want the ground to swallow you alive. You want to hole away in your shack and wallow in your grief, descend into a spiral of what-ifs: what if you tried harder to find him? What if you searched the whole IPC ship you snuck on trying to resolve things peacefully until you found him? What if you ran out earlier and tried to bring him with you? What if, what if, what if-

"Now that you got some measure of my grit," he whispers in your ear, suddenly standing behind you, "I'm sure you know how this ends, yeah? C'mon now, take it off."

You pant heavily, head dizzy with his close proximity- god, even with the metal, he still smells the same. "I- I can't-"

"Feelin' shy? Alright, I'll do it for you."

"No! Please, no!" You swat at his hands and try to break free of his iron grip, but he grabs you hard and pulls you against his chest.

He cackles, metallic and bitter. "And here I thought I finally had an ally, but no- you're just like the rest of 'em shirt-bags." He whips out his revolver and raises it to your head. "Take. It. Off. Now."

You want to cry. You don't want to hurt him.

Slowly, with trembling hands, you take off your mask...

And his gun falls to the floor.

Doe eyes. Soft cheeks. Scars. Floral scent.

"What made you wanna be a florist?" he asked you once, helping you water the rainbow roses. "They're pretty and all, don't get me wrong. But don't you want somethin' more exciting?"

"On the contrary, I think they're very exciting," you explained. "They all have their unique personality; some need lots of love and care, and others don't mind if you go missing for a week or two. There's flowers that only stay with you for so long, and there are others that will love you for as long as you'll let them."

He grunted. "Sounds like you'd do just fine without me."

"Oh, please." You put down your watering can and embraced him from behind. And just as planned, he melted at your touch. "Moon lilies love the moon, but they need the sun to grow. And that's exactly what you are to me."

"The moon?"

"The sun."

ML. Moon lily.

It's so obvious, how did he not realize it sooner?

He lets you go. You immediately stumble away from him, hands covering your face in shame.

Boothill has no lungs, yet he feels his chest collapse.

"(Y/N)?" he calls to you, weak and desperate. "Moon lily? That's really you, right?" He reaches out, hand shaking. But when he grazes your shoulder, you hunch further into yourself. "I- I'm sorry, I... I didn't mean to scare ya. Please..."

Boothill willingly let go of his humanity. But right here, right now, he wishes he still had his skin.

"Please, darlin'... turn around? Let me see you, please."

You shiver, tears spilling down your cheeks, and slap a hand over your mouth. You can't hurt him, you'll never hurt him. "I can't... I can't see you."

His body wants to collapse. He wants to grab you by your shoulders and kiss you senseless, look at you from head to toe and sing praises to Lan for protecting you and keeping you safe.

But you won't see him. You won't turn around.

"Why?" he whines, like a pleading child. "Why not?"

"Because I'm not the same anymore!" you sob. "I'm not your moon lily anymore! I don't want to remind you of everything you lost! I don't want to hurt you anymore! You don't know the things I've done, the blood I spilled, all to destroy the IPC!" You sink to the floor in despair, echoes of the dead haunting you, swarming your mind. "I can't bear to see you hate me for being alive when everyone else died. I already hate myself so much, hated myself because I couldn't save anyone else! I thought I lost you, but now I realize I didn't search for you at all! I didn't even try to find you, I..."

You cry and sob and scream. You pound the floor with your fists. You pull at your hair, your clothes, your skin, so hard that drops of blood water the cement.

Boothill's eyes itch with tears that will never spill. His chest burns with a profound grief that will never truly be his own.

"You think I don't feel that way about myself?" he finally whispers. Bravely, he takes a step closer to you. "From the moment the bombs fell, I was never the same. I changed too much to be that man you met at the market- hell, I don't even have the body anymore." He sits just behind you, close to touch but not close enough. "The blood I spilled would be enough to fill oceans. But I'm still here. I still remember everything. I still remember you." His hand, feather-light, brushes your arm. You don't pull away. "I thought I lost you. When I went back to the ranch and couldn't find anyone there, I thought you were one of the piles of ashes on the ground." He chokes as he speaks, but he pushes on. "I never hated myself more. I failed to save them; I failed to save you."

You shake your head, but he gently rests his head on your back, right between your shoulder blades. He breathes you in- dust, machine oil, and moon lilies.

You smell so alive.

"How could you think I'd ever hate you," he whimpers, "when there's no one I hate more than myself? No, sweetheart, I could never hate you. I never will. Nothing you do could ever make me hate you. So please, turn around..." He grabs a fistful of your shirt and tugs. "I'm begging you. Let me see your face, please."

Your heart breaks. You couldn't fathom how much he suffered, how lonely he must have felt, the self-loathing that coursed through his wires every time he looked in the mirror.

Just like you.

"Don't hate yourself," you sniffle, rubbing your eyes. "Nothing you do could ever make me hate you either. What happened wasn't your fault; you didn't know what the IPC was going to do until it happened."

He lets out a small huff. "I could easily say the same about you. It wasn't your fault either- neither of us could've known until it was too late."

You exhale shakily. "Do you really mean it? Not hating me?"

Boothill smiles. "Every word."

For a moment, you're afraid. What if he doesn't like what he sees? You know he's not a superficial man, but you're still not the sweet florist he remembers anymore.

You suck in a deep breath. He's not the same man you remember, but he's still your cowboy, your Boothill.

Slowly, you turn around, and...

Oh. His face is just how you remember. His beautiful silky hair, the red targets in his eyes still framed within familiar stormy gray. When you reach out with trembling hands to cup his smooth cheeks, he melts in your touch just how he always did.

And melt he does. He nearly moans at your soft touch, pressing his cheek into your palms to keep your focus on him. He drinks up every detail of your face and commits it to memory- your beautiful moony eyes and the dark circles under them, the faintest hint of a scar curling from the edge of your jawline into your neck, your soft hair that smells of moon lilies.

You're still you, the sweet florist he fell in love with all those years ago. And now you've returned to him, and this time, he'll never let you go.

He sits you on his lap and embraces you, nuzzling into the crook of your neck and savoring your scent. You wrap your legs around his waist and make yourself comfortable, admiring his metal body, tracing patterns into the steel.

"I love you," he whispers with a kiss to the corner of your mouth. "I never stopped loving you, not for one second."

"I'm sorry I didn't look for you," you confess. "But I kept you in my heart every day. Even when we weren't together, you were always a part of me."

"I'm here now." He pulls away to admire you, his thumb brushing your bottom lip as he gazes at you with what you could only describe as reverence. "I'm right here with you. I'm not leaving you ever again."

Boothill didn't realize how much his world lacked color until he kisses you, but now he swears he can see every color in the spectrum flash before his eyes. You taste just how he remembers, sweet and salty with your tears. When you pull away for air, he dives back in to reclaim your lips, hooking a hand around your neck to keep you in place.

He won't let you slip from his fingers again. And you clearly feel the same way, because you tangle your hands with his hair and tug him closer, pulling him on top of you.

"Please don't be a dream," you cry in his shoulder, and it damn near breaks his heart. "I don't want to wake up if it is."

"Darlin', those dreams are better off in Penacony; I'm right here. Does this," he kisses your cheek, "or this," he squeezes your ass and relishes in your squeal, "or this..." He grinds into you, and you gasp, squeezing his shoulders with a whimper. And fuck, maybe he was a bit too harsh with that mechanic, he should send her flowers or something, because your face contorted in shock and a hint of reawakened pleasure is a drug he will happily become addicted to. He nibbles on your ear and whispers, "Any of that feel like a dream to you?"

"...No." You stare at him, moon lily eyes abloom with hearts and love and fuck, he wants you, he needs you.

And your eyes are reflected in his, because you're so captivated by how the targets in his gaze morph into blood red hearts that drip with love and devotion. You want to give him everything, bring him under your skin and into your heart so you'll never be separated again.

"I love you." You smile and open your arms for him. "Let's never be apart again."

Boothill's brain short-circuits. He can only remember the minutiae of what happens next- tearing off your clothes, your hands running across his metallic chest, his sensors working in overdrive to let him process your touch, your smell, your taste, as he kisses, nibbles and sucks his way across the canvas of your body to reach your core.

But just as he's about to taste your liquid gold, you tug on his hair. He immediately moves up to your face, nuzzling into your neck to comfort you.

"What's wrong, moon lily? I'll be gentle, I promise," he reassures you, but you bite your lip and shake your head.

"I know. But I don't want that right now; I want you to fuck me."

You spread your legs, once again revealing your soaking pussy to his hungry eyes, and fuck, his mouth goes dry at the exquisite feast before him. And his new dick feels the same way, as the electricity in his body jolts it to life, straining against his pants.

He swallows. "Yeah, baby. I want you too, but I gotta prep ya, or it's gonna hurt."

"Don't care!" you whine, and on Lan's Arrow, you're so cute with your pouting and wailing. "I need you, Hillie, I need it, I need it-!"

Ah, fuck. He can't say no to you, and he won't start now.

So he rips off his pants, and after a few quick pumps of his new cock (yeah, he'll send some flowers to the mechanic as a thank-you), he grabs hold on your hips and thrusts forward.

You shriek at the burning sensation, scrambling for grip on his shoulders as he penetrates deeper and deeper. Fuck, it's been so long since you had sex of any kind, and it shows. You moan loudly, shamelessly, so sensitive to the buttons his cock presses perfectly against your walls, that you cum instantly when he bottoms out, hips meeting yours with a soft thud.

"Fuuudge," Boothill groans, each syllable drawn out in pleasure, "you're so tight, sugar~ I can't even move..."

His brain might just melt from the overload of sensations. Your pussy's so tight, so wet, he's damn sure he near ascended to aeonhood. And your face is so adorable when cumming, he makes sure to engrave every part of it into his neurochip and brush the hair out of your eyes, moving his hips in slow, shallow thrusts, guiding you out of the afterglow.

When you finally blink the stars out of your eyes, you see Boothill hovering above you, rubbing your cheek with hearts in his eyes.

"God, you're so fudgin' gorgeous." He grins, sharp teeth glinting in the dim light, and a shiver of excitement runs down your spine. "Think you got another for me?"

You whine, "Still sensi- AH!"

He immediately sets a vigorous pace, hips slamming against yours in a hypnotic rhythm. He fixates on your breasts, and leans over to take a hard nipple in his mouth to suck and lick and nibble. You squeal and pull on his hair. He bites your skin in retaliation.

"Easy, moon lily," he moans, quickly stifling it with a kiss. "Hold on to me."

He grabs under your arms and lifts you onto his lap. His cock sinks impossibly deeper inside you, the tip nudging at your cervix. With a shriek, you bite his neck to try and ease the discomfort, but it only excites him more. With a guttural groan, he thrusts up into your sopping hole, bouncing you up and down with rough hands to set an even rougher pace.

You're still so sensitive; too much, too fast, and his cock fits so snugly inside you that you're already spiraling towards another release. But you don't want to make that journey alone, you want Boothill beside you.

So you grab his face and devour his mouth, pressing your tongue against his to savor his metallic taste. He moans against your lips, hips stuttering in an effort to keep up with you.

"Wanna make you feel good," you pant heavily. You carefully slide up and down on his thick cock, head thrown back as it hits your sweet spot. "Wanna... wanna cum with you!"

"Y- you are, baby," he groans against your neck, each word punctuated with a deep thrust. "You're makin' me feel so- darn- good-"

You're so close, you can see the faintest glimmer of stars again. Or maybe that was the sparks from his body as it overworks to keep his sensors running, so he can keep feeling you, tasting you, fucking you.

"Hillie," you gasp when the stars start to overwhelm you. "Hillie, I-"

"I know, baby, let go, I'm right with ya." He kisses you, over and over, thrusts sloppy as he chases his high, sensors working overdrive, wires sparking to further push him over the edge. "I'm- fudge, fudge, fudge-!"

He chokes, and you both come undone together, chasing that relentless wave of pleasure side by side. Stars collide and burst in showers of gold and silver, and your strength all but fails you, so you collapse in Boothill's arms, rubbing your cheek on his cool chest.

He catches his breath, letting his sensors rest as he basks in that afterglow. His wires are probably fried after such an intense sensory overload, but he can't bring himself to give a damn. Not when you're sitting so pretty in his arms, eyes just barely able to stay open.

You're so cute when you're sleepy, it's hard to not bite your cheek like he used to do. But tonight, he'll be generous and resist the temptation; you need your rest.

He runs a hand through your hair, and he once again finds himself wishing he still had his skin. But he sets that aside, preferring to be lost in your sleepy smile instead.

"Love you, Hillie," you coo drowsily, head nodding off.

"I love you more, moon lily," he whispers back with a kiss to your forehead.

In a moment, he'll bring you on his spaceship and clean you up, then tuck you in the spare bunk next to his charging port. He'll have to look at that USB you painstakingly put together for him sooner or later.

But for now, right here, he's not going anywhere.

His moon lily came back to him.

Boothill has finally returned home.

[Post-Credit]

"What the actual hell is this..." the mechanic sighs as she stares at the large bouquet of blue flowers.

She wonders if she should toss them out before she notices the card.

Thanks for the added bonus, Doc! - BH & ML

Her eyebrows raise. The handwriting's too nice and legible to be that Galaxy Ranger's, so...

She chuckles. "I figured it'd come in handy sooner or later."

She sets the bouquet on her desk and continues on with her work.

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

A/N: holy shirtballs BOOOTHILL MY LOVE AAAAAAAHSHDHDBSK I LOVE HIM SO MUCH LIKE I NEVER LOVED A CHARACTER BEFORE

...if only he loved me back just the slightest, cuz I lost 50/50 and went hard pity to get him. But I did win his lightcone so I guess it's even...?

#honkai star rail #boothill #boothill x reader #hsr smut #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader

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kumkaniudaku · 5 months ago

Text

From Terrence, With Love

Summary: Terry goes out of his way for Patrice's Christmas gift.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: None.

Previous: TBT

MASTERLIST

"What about this one?"

Terry paused his web search through pages of office accessories to look up at his mother-in-law as she pushed a stroller toward his spot in a winding line. Rosalyn held out her phone for him to examine what she thought was a perfect armchair selection, hoping that her seemingly endless pursuit could finally reach a conclusion.

He scanned the olive green item with a careful eye before ultimately shaking his head. "I like it, but she's into oranges and yellows for her creative spaces. That's too muted."

"Oh Lord, Terry. I love how dedicated you are to this, but I'll be doggone if this ain't takin' years off my life. You trynna get rid of me?"

"No, ma'am," he chuckled as he stepped forward to make space for her beside him. "I just want it to be perfect. She's been wanting a little spot just for her, and I want her to love it, you know?"

"That's very thoughtful. It's driving me and my baby crazy, but thoughtful nonetheless. Ain't that right, Nyla Bee?"

Raspy giggles and loud shrieks from the 16-month-old sitting in her reserved seat made both adults smile. A combination of watered-down juice and cinnamon roll crumbs coated her cherub cheeks in a way that would make her mother shake with frustration if she were present. Though her grandmothers found the sight adorable, Terry knew the consequences coming if Patrice ever found out how much junk he'd allowed Nyla to consume in only a few short hours.

Terry lifted Nyla from her seat and used a large hand to dust off her face to the best of his ability before peppering her cheek with soft kisses. She leaned into her daddy's affection, using all her might to hug his head.

He laughed before giving her a final kiss with a loud 'mwuah' to boot. "We gotta get you a nap before we get home, little one." He turned to Rosalyn. "Treece call while y'all were away?"

"You know she did, but don't worry, we didn't give you up. Dee got her off the phone by asking if she had a minute to talk about the church bake sale."

"Mama doesn't go to church."

"Exactly."

Terry laughed. "Telling a fib here and there is her hidden superpower. "Where is she anyway?"

"She stopped into that little children's boutique downstairs when she saw they had a sale going on."

"Another one of her superpowers. There's not a discount on this Earth that she won't find."

"A woman that speaks my language!"

A swell of chatter at the front of the line pulled Rosalyn and Terry's attention away from their conversation to crane their necks for answers. After nearly an hour of waiting, the guest of honor had arrived.

Her long, greying sister locs swung in a low ponytail against her multicolored caftan as she waved enthusiastically at the crowd of fans eager to have a 90-second conversation with her. Terry couldn't say he was familiar with Sarraya Wylie's work, but he slept next to her biggest fan every night. Each of her novels had a place on Patrice's bookshelf, all with worn pages that had seen numerous turns in their lifetime. From stories of hidden Black civilizations in distant lands to essays about the importance of Afro-Futurism in literature, she'd been a staple in his wife's love of science fiction.

So, when he heard from an online community group that she'd been in town causing traffic near the mall as part of her most recent book tour, Terry jumped at the opportunity to schedule time away and spend any money necessary to have her write a personal message to love of his life as part of an elaborate Christmas gift.

He schemed and planned, telling little lies about his whereabouts for the afternoon and roping others into his tales. Her mother and his mother agreed to tag along as alibis and babysitters in one while he sent Patrice on her way to enjoy brunch and a movie with her girls. He figured if all else failed and his plan fell through, at least she'd be tipsy and full when he got home.

Rosalyn hummed in approval of Sarraya. "Never thought I'd see her in person after all the money I've spent on her. Pretty lady."

"And that dress is fabulous. I think I could make one at home if I get close enough to see the pattern."

Diedra admired the author's outfit from afar as she approached the others with her phone in the air to snap a picture.

Terry rolled his eyes and gently pushed her wrists to lower the device. "Ma, that's weird. You can't take pictures of strangers."

"Terrence, I am grown," she advised, cutting her eyes toward him. "Plus, I can't see the damn thing from here anyway."

"Language in front of the baby, Mama."

Noticing her mistake, DeeDee mouthed a sorry at her son before poking at Nyla's belly.

"Maman's sorry for saying bad words that you don't understand, Pumpkin. Don't repeat any of this at home. Wait until you're at least 16."

"Or never. Maman's gonna get you in trouble with your mommy," Terrence corrected, his voice inflections changing into silly baby talk.

Though generally playful and kind with her baby girl, Patrice was strict about what influenced Nylah's development. If anything penetrated the wall of carefully selected baby books and enrichment activities, there would be hell to pay, and Terry wasn't interested in footing the bill.

DeeDee kissed her teeth while Rosalyn chuckled in the background. "You hear that, Ros? They start getting a little older and want to tell you what to do. Crazy, ain't it?"

"He acts just like Patrice. My mama ain't been gone but a few months, and the Lord already sent me another one."

"We just care about y'all. You rather we leave you out in the cold?"

"I'm just sayin' that you only just started raisin' babies," DeeDee answered as she stuffed a clothing bag into the stroller's undercarriage. "I raised you plus two more. I'll be alright."

"Tell him again."

"I will be alright. But I'll always love you, my sweet boy."

His mother's way of cleaning up verbal messes with sweet words made Terry grin and shake his head. A few hours with the two women responsible for his current life had taught him two things: he and Patrice hadn't been able to hide a single thing from them, and if Nyla inherited even a fraction of their personalities, he was in for a treat come her pre-teen years.

As they stood in a line that moved at a snail's pace, Diedra and Rosalyn detailed all the times they'd noticed the beginning of love between their children and had spirited discussions about who would pay for the eventual wedding and contingency plans should an accident arise. Terry listened with a mixture of shock and amusement, laughing at each new revelation and Nyla's need to feel included with her mix of real words and toddler babble.

"So you knew about the whole graduation thing," Terry asked his mother as they inched forward.

"We had an idea because both of you wear your emotions all over your face," DeeDee laughed. "You couldn't let go of her. She couldn't stop smiling at you. I was prepared to physically separate y'all."

"Then here Dee comes callin' me and Leon talkin' about a baby fund and makin' you propose. It was a whole thing," Rosalyn laughed.

Terry shook his head and adjusted Nyla in his arms, getting a good look at her furrowed brow as she toyed with the buttons on her father's jacket. Perseverant and singularly focused like her mother.

"Nah, you didn't have to worry about that. Treece had already told me she wasn't saying yes to any proposal and wasn't having a single one of my kids before she graduated. You know how she is."

"Mhmm. Good for her. Miles better than the other options you had rollin' through my kitchen every other year."

Rosalyn's eyebrows rose in amusement. "Oh yeah? I gotta hear this."

"Mom!"

"What?" Diedra playfully elbowed Rosalyn, knowing full well that she was annoying her oldest child. She persisted with a sneaky smile. "I'm just saying I've never seen so many beautiful yet…simple young ladies in my life. What was the last one's name? Monique? Gorgeous girl. Empty head."

Simple was the tip of the iceberg. A desire to escape the pain of losing Patrice and the folly of youth sent Terry down a winding road of pretty and vapid women. Every few months, he'd try to replicate the exciting bond he shared with his first love, only to find that she was, indeed, one of a kind. And no matter how he'd try to coach Alexandria, Constance, or Monet into the mold that Patrice had left behind, they never quite fit the bill. There were plenty of Donners and Blitzens. There was only one Rudolph.

"Monique was not her name, but none of that matters. My baby is a scholar, and that's my favorite thing about her. That's why I'm standing in line with all these strange kids now."

Diedra and Rosalyn let Terry's comment pass without a response as they shuffled forward in line. For close to an hour, fanboys and girls alike filed up to the small black table to participate in the same sequence of events: quick hello, incoherent personal story, photo, repeat.

Terry watched each interaction as he split his attention between his ladies and the action around them. He noticed every chat forcibly cut short by nearby security and every time Sarraya subtly rolled her eyes at an overzealous reader telling her about the "hidden" themes in work she poured over alone. He saw her begin to get agitated at the hour mark and ask for a break that was never granted. As time crept by and his accomplices took off in search of rest for weary feet and more interesting surroundings, he wondered how much longer he could entertain a toddler inside a bland bookstore.

Against his better judgment, he gave in to the device demon and handed over his cell phone for animated Christmas videos to stretch the last bits of peace Nyla would allow.

"Mommy!" Her voice penetrated Terry's thoughts as he rubbed his aching temples.

He sighed before answering. "Not yet, baby. We should be home soon. I don't know why I'm sayin' that to you. It's not true, and you don't know what soon means."

Nyla remained undeterred, continuing to chant for her mother until Terry opened his eyes to get a good look at what was causing the disturbance. In her hand, Patrice's smiling face took up his phone's entire screen as an incoming call caused the device to buzz against the drink tray attached to her stroller. He rushed to answer, hoping that she couldn't hear the commotion in the immediate area.

"Hey, TJ," Patrice greeted, the words becoming muffled in the background noise pumping through her receiver. "You busy?"

Her soft and small voice was a welcomed relief from the chaos and a clear sign of what she'd been up to in her afternoon absence. Terry smiled and matched her energy.

"Never too busy for you, baby. Everything okay?"

"Yeah. I just called to say I miss you and I love you. Do you still love me even though I'm gone?"

"Of course, baby. I love you all the time. Mean it," He answered, trying to bite back his smile and remain sincere. "Treece, you been drinkin'? Be honest with me."

A long pause and a sniffle preceded her answer. "A little."

A lot.

On too many occasions, Terry found himself on the other end of a slurred phone call with Patrice, trying to decipher what was driving her into tearful confessions about nothing or full-on lyric screaming with her two friends as hype women. Today, she was fighting an emotional rollercoaster and the desire to sob in a restaurant bathroom.

"Oh, don't cry, baby. You're too pretty to cry off all the makeup you worked so hard on."

"Okay," Patrice answered, the pout still evident in her tone. "Why are you at the mall?"

The sugar-sweet moment quickly took a wrong turn into blinding anxiety as Terry searched his brain for an answer. For all his careful preparation, turning off his location had seeped through the cracks. A lie would suffice. She was tipsy enough to believe him. But he hated lying to Patrice, especially after all the lying he'd done to shake free for the afternoon. He scrambled for an answer.

"Uh, I stopped by to grab some lunch. Had to get away from the boys because I didn't wanna get hungry and mean."

Patrice squealed at his mention of being near the food court, completely ignoring Terry's tale's shakiness in search of her own wish fulfillment.

"Ohmygosh! Babe, can you get a picture of Sarraya if you walk by the bookstore? I heard she was there and I really need to see her. Please, please, please."

Terry chuckled at her excitement running head-on into his surprise and fought every urge to spill the beans. "I'll do what I can, okay? You be safe for me. Tell Vicky and Phee to bring you back home in one piece, or we gon' have a problem."

"Boy, ain't nobody worried about you!"

"At all. You just big."

"Don't be worried about me. Be worried about my wife," He answered with a laugh just as an announcement from the front of the line caught his attention.

The sudden screech of a microphone startled Nyla into a short scream that snuck past the safety measures Terry had put in place. Patrice threw herself into a tizzy at the sound.

"Is that a baby? Have you talked to Ny? Do I need to check on her again?"

Patrice's inebriated panicking forced Terry back into stress-induced sweating and an uncharacteristic stutter. "She - she's okay. I gotta go, baby. I'll call you back. Love you."

Terry was sure he'd pay for hanging up so abruptly, but desperate times and a scared toddler required quick thinking. He rushed to lift Nyla from her seat and soothe her discomfort while craning his neck to hear the tail end of the announcement.

"Sorry for the inconvenience, everyone. She should be back in about an hour. Someone is coming through the line to hand out numbers. We'll honor them when things resume. Thanks for your patience."

"An hour," Terry questioned as a young woman with red tickets approached. "Yo, I don't have an hour. We've already been here for a long time. What can I do?"

She shrugged and tore a piece from her roll. "Nothing really, dude. She said she needed a break, and I just work here during the holidays. You want this or not?"

The frustration boiling inside every cavity of his chest threatened to send Terry into a tailspin. He forced back his misguided desire to escalate the situation and pulled the scrap of paper from the young woman's hands with a huff.

A look at solemn faces filing out of line gave him some hope that things might move faster when the time came while he considered his options. His fingers typed away at his phone screen, searching for the right mix of sob story and bribery to convince his conspirators to take Nyla and afford him another 60 grueling minutes of waiting, completely unaware of the tired woman and small entourage passing him by on the way to the back of the store.

"Bye-bye!" Nyla's farewell was enough to grab her father's attention, but it resonated over the mixture of sounds in the immediate area to make Sarraya stop in her tracks and search for the source. Nyla made her presence known with her newest waving skill and a smile featuring only a few teeth.

Sarraya waved back with equal enthusiasm. "No, this is hello, beautiful. Are you not the cutest little thing in the world?"

With renewed energy, the author pushed her way past the large men flanking her to meet the only person who had excited her all day. Her approach and Nyla's enthusiastic wiggling finally earned Terry's attention just as Sarraya was close enough to speak.

"What's her name?" she asked with a thick Philadelphia accent, her knees bent to get eye-level with Nyla.

Terry smiled. "This is Nyla Naomi. Say hi, baby."

Nyla didn't need the prompting. Ever the people person, she greeted and babbled for all to see, garnering a heartfelt chorus of 'oohs' and 'ahhs.' Sarraya seemed to melt at the excited greeting as she spoke back to Nyla as if she were old enough to carry a conversation.

"And what brings you here to see me? Can you read already? I can tell you're so smart!"

"She does love your books during storytime with her mama. We like to mix up the baby books with some more complex stuff every once in a while. Between Two Worlds is her favorite. The one where Malachi and Toriah try to communicate between Earth and the New World, right?"

Maybe Terry had been listening to Patrice read more than he thought. His recollection of her third book's plot made Sarraya look up at him with a smile.

"Wow, a house full of fans. That's a first for me."

"All thanks to my wife," he chuckled as Nyla attempted to play peekaboo with her new friend. "She has your whole collection. Been a fan since our senior year of high school and now she's passing it down."

Sarraya beamed at the information. "That is incredible. I'm glad to have you here today. May I?"

Terry happily granted her request to hold Nyla, carefully transferring her between adults until she was comfortably in Sarraya's arms. When she was safe, Nyla gingerly laid her head on Sarraya's shoulder and popped her thumb into her mouth to self-soothe. Sarraya instantly hugged her tighter and pretended to cry.

"This is the best thing to happen to me in weeks. She makes me miss when my babies were little."

"It's an amazing experience, right? She's our first."

"You all are incredibly blessed." She smiled down at Nyla before dancing her fingers across her small belly to induce giggles. "I'd love to say hi to mom. It's the least I could do for all this trouble."

"Are you sure? I don't wanna hold you up from your break."

"Oh, nonsense. Y'all are the first folks I've met all day who look like me and haven't tried to tell me what I meant with my words. Please, allow me to say thank you."

Fifteen minutes of photos, videos, and a heartfelt message neatly written in script inside the book's front cover quickly became the most extravagant 'thank you' Terry had ever received. One day, when she was old enough, he'd tell Nyla about how her mere existence secured a gift for her mother. For now, she'd have to live with a forbidden taste of tart frozen yogurt from Terry, a flurry of kisses on her sticky face, and another talking stuffed animal for her services.

By Christmas morning weeks later, Nyla was less interested in meeting a renowned artist and more concerned with the shrill music emanating from the brand new mini grand piano her Aunt Zorah had purchased.

Heaps upon heaps of toys, clothes, and the like covered their living room floor to celebrate her first real Christmas and the family's first opportunity to see the day through the eyes of a small child. Junior sat on the floor beside her, comically rapping the ABCs into a small mic while Nyla plunked away at the keys to back him up. Both sets of grandparents searched for the perfect recording angle to grab sentimental momentos to show friends and coworkers in the new year. Her aunts and Imani happily put together outfits and folded clothes to help with the clean-up process.

Terry and Patrice worked together in the kitchen to prepare for Christmas breakfast as they watched controlled chaos unfold in the next room. Terry tore his eyes away from the family to glance at Patrice, who leaned against the counter in a pajama set that matched his and Nyla's. She smiled at nothing in particular.

He slowly wrapped an arm around her waist to pull her in for a kiss on the temple. "Sneak away with me right quick. I wanna show you something."

An excited squeeze to her sides made Patrice turn in Terry's arms to get a better look at his smiling face. "I thought we were waiting until tonight for gifts together."

"I'm callin' an audible."

"You act like I know what that means."

"C'mon, girl," he chuckled, lacing their fingers together to lead them out of the kitchen. "It'll be quick. Promise."

With all eyes on the superstar of the family, Patrice and Terry snuck past the commotion and down the hallway to their second spare bedroom. Terry's gentle instruction to close and cover her eyes was surprisingly met with no pushback and an excited wiggle from Patrice. No amount of carefully planned theatrics could hide the fact that she'd snooped long and hard to discover a secret Terry wasn't trying to hide. He was always a few steps ahead of his exceptionally nosey lover.

Patrice allowed Terry to gently push her into the room while she danced on her tiptoes. She listened for the soft click of the door closing and Terry's deep voice relaying directions.

"You peekin'," He asked, a smile evident in his voice as he tapped her backside on his way to the other side of the room.

"No, but I'm about to. Hurry!"

Terry gripped her from behind and rested his chin on her shoulder. "Let me give you my speech first. Act like we've been doin' this for a while." He listened to Patrice groan in impatient agony while he chuckled in her ear, purposefully drawing out the moment to get her back for sneaking behind his back. "I have always loved how much you love words and books. That's where we met. That's where I've seen you the happiest. And now, this is where I hope you'll wanna take your breaks and share the gift of reading with our little girl. Go ahead and look at your library, baby."

Patrice voiced her excitement through a quiet squeal just as she lowered her hand to get a look at her new surroundings. Three floor-to-ceiling bookcases teaming with her favorite souvenirs and enough room to add more pressed against walls covered in beautiful wallpaper made the room look like a photo from Architectural Digest. She could tell where her mother-in-law had spent time arranging the pillows and blanket in her new reading chair and that some combination of her mother and Terry had chosen the perfect orange tone as a nod to her favorite color.

A gallery wall above the guest day bed featured the faces of all her favorite people, with her husband and daughter from Nyla's first birthday party beaming in the center. A new record player and all her favorite records rested on a small console table fashioned into a bar to satisfy her craving for a secret cocktail or two on the weekends. She regarded it all with childlike wonder, bouncing from section to section as Terry watched from her armchair with a proud smile.

"This is amazing, baby. Thank you so much," she finally complimented while bracing herself on his shoulders to settle in his lap. Terry's warm hand took a slow journey up the side of her thigh to rest on her backside with a gentle grip as she spoke against his mouth. "I promise to let you in here at least twice a week. Three times if you ask nice."

"Mm, you just like to see me beg."

"No, baby, I love to see you beg. I hope I got that for Christmas, too."

Slow kisses, equally sweet and sensual, preceded another trickle of information. Terry pulled away first to speak. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"You know you can," she answered between small pecks to the corner of his mouth while she cradled his head, unwilling to part with his affection.

"This isn't the real gift." Patrice paused her worship to give Terry's wide grin a skeptical eyebrow raise. "I got you something else."

He watched the slow shift from confusion to joy as he dramatically lifted the carefully hidden collector's edition hardcover book from beneath their shared seat.

"Honey," she cooed, her jaw dropping to make room for a loud gasp while she examined the front cover. "You got it! Did I tell you how much I wanted her new book or was this a guess?"

"You might've said something over the phone once, but we don't have to rehash that. Take a look at the inside."

Eager fingers pried open fresh pages and an untouched book spine, introducing her to a handwritten message in beautiful cursive that she read aloud.

"Patrice - thank you for keeping the transformative power of literature alive with the next generation. I'm sorry we didn't get the chance to meet, but Nyla told me so much about you. Until next time, I pray The Creator becomes a new staple in your library. From Sarraya, Nyla, and Terrence with love."

"I'll save the video for tonight so we can cry together," Terry spoke before kissing Patrice's cheek. "She loved Ny. I think they have a coffee date scheduled for next week. I don't know if we're invited."

Patrice laughed while flipping through the pages. "I'm gonna crash it, I don't care. They'll understand."

Terry chuckled and squeezed tighter.

"Everything to your liking? I wanna make sure you're happy."

His usual search for praise and approval came with puppy-dog eyes that scanned Patrice's face for any sign of discontent. He found none - only the beginnings of a tearful smile conveying more than words ever could.

"You make me happy, Pooh. Sometimes, I don't do a worthwhile job of letting you know how much I appreciate you. Not for what you do, but for just being Terrence."

"You do. And I love you the same. Always," he answered. His hold on her waist kept Patrice steady long enough for a short, tender kiss before her jittering in his lap was too much to tame. He used his thumb to swipe the bottom of her lip clean and smiled. "I know you can't wait to show Imani. Go ahead. Make sure you brag on me a little. It feels good."

"Oh my God, finally! Moanie, girl, Sarraya, and I are besties! Look what my man got me!"

While Patrice rushed to talk a mile a minute about her favorite gift to date, Terry carefully reset the pillows in her chair to return her sanctuary to mint condition. He took a long look around the room, smiling at the work he'd accomplished until he stopped short at the door for a final once-over.

His fingers flipped the switch as he mumbled an affirmation to himself. "Yeah, that's definitely enough for three visits a week. I don't know what the hell she talkin' about."

-------

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