#GIVE ME THAT SAD DIVORCED MAN NOW.

[notorious-pipe]

[honestlydeeppolice]

Women who chose selective ab// by gender

Women who chose selective ab// by gender, they probably think that the humans are 80% biologically male and they(she) are one of them, they just happen to give birth.

[sludgeguzzler]

i figured it out i cracked the code

[graham--folger]

yall. wtf

[eyesxxyou]

sweet revenge

・・・l. howlett x fem!reader

rating. m

word count. 1.3k

synopsis. after catching your boyfriend cheating, you and his father, Logan, go on a road trip to confront him, though, you don't make it far

warnings. p-in-v, tummy bulging, cheating (but as payback), DILF Logan, car sex, van sex, sex with boyfriend's father, cunilingus, kinda rushed :((

If someone told you you’d be trapped in a car with your neglectful boyfriend’s father for an entire weekend as you drive to meet him in Mexico a week ago, you would have stared at them blankly then told them that didn't sound so out of the ordinary for a life like yours.

It wasn't your idea, it was Logan's, your boyfriend's father. He insisted that you two would have to drive across the US together to confront your disgusting, cheating, asshole boyfriend who flew to Mexico to spend time with his mistress. He was almost as disgusted as you were, apologizing to you with explanations of how “he hadn't raised his boy like this”. How funny life is.

Logan, you always thought, was a good man. He had always been kind to you since you’ve known him, sometimes to the point where you thought he was flirting with you. Not that you minded, he was quite handsome, even for being in his 50s. With his salt and pepper beard and slight wrinkles that made him look mature and wise. You never minded his slight touches on your arm or your lower back but you never pursued the idea beyond a lingering thought.

“I’m slightly surprised you’re not crying.” Logan said about an hour into your ride together. You had been entirely silent, letting the radio play while you gazed longingly out of the window, your feet up on the dashboard. You rolled your head to the side to look at him. “I’m more angry than sad.” Or were you? You searched within the cavity of your chest for emotion and found nothing. You were so apathetic to the whole thing. Maybe it simply hasn't hit you yet, that your boyfriend of 3 years has been cheating on you for 2 of them with some girl he decided to vacation with in Mexico.

Logan stroked his fingers through his beard. “He’s a fucking idiot. His mother was a cheater too, I say he got it from her.” Your boyfriend was raised primarily by his mother after they had gotten divorced he had told you. He wasn't actually all that close with Logan. You had sussed out that it was because he didn't give special treatment between him and his sister, Laura. They were treated the same in every way by Logan while his mother always seemed to favor him.

“Thank you, Mr. Howlett for offering to bring me down here…really. It’s too kind of you.” You couldn't have possibly scrounge up enough money to haphazardly buy a plane ticket down to Cancun last minute. You would have had to wait for him to come back from his “business trip” to confront him. Logan thought it a better idea to do it as soon as possible.

He shrugged, a single hand on the wheel as his eyes flicked lightly from the road to you. “It’s nothing. He doesn't deserve a pretty girl like you.” Logan shook his head lightly. “Back in my day, I would have been all over a girl like you. Hell, I’d be all over you now if I’d met you at the right time.”

There's something deadly serious in his voice that suggests he was far from joking. All your delusional thoughts that maybe, just maybe, he was flirting with you turned out to not be delusions at all. He’s been dropping hints and you’d been turning a blind eye to them so willingly.

You’ve never been with a man his age. Something about it seemed so taboo. He was old enough to be your father. Yet the distinct feel of forbiddenness, both because of his age and because he was your boyfriend's father, excited you.

“Who says you can't be all over me now?” You’re being more bold than you’d have liked. You crossed your ankles on the dash. It would be the perfect revenge. When he goes low, you go lower—you go to Hell.

You let your hand wander to his thigh, your eyes lingering on him as he keeps glancing between you and the road. Logan chuckled lowly at you, your forward attempts at coming onto him were rather cute. “Oh baby, you don't know what you’re tryna get yourself into.” He’s trying to warn you but you like the edge to his tone.

You unbuckle your seatbelt and sit up in your seat to lean over and whisper into his ear. “Let me find out.” Maybe older men do it better, maybe they value things a little more. You were in the mood to find out.

You could see his jaw tighten as he slowed the car off the side of the road, gravel crunching under the tires. His fingers curled around the wheel, taut, knuckles white. ��Why don't you get in the back?”

If someone told you you’d be in the back of a van, on you way to confront your cheating, sleazebag boyfriend, fucking his dad. That…that you’d bat an eye at.

It was a fast-paced endeavor. Logan had you in a mating press, pushed up against the back seats. Your pants and underwear at your knees, his pants just below his ass. He’s pounding you out in the back of a van, with thrust so hard and deep that it makes your eyes go cross. You beg, “please, please, puh-please!” like that will save you from the brutalization of your poor cunt.

Logan grunts above you, his hands gripping your thighs hard enough to leave bruises as he spreads them wide and keeps you still. “You wanted this, princess. Don’t back out now.” His strokes leave you winded, clawing at the cracked leather seat of his van, squealing like you have no damn sense in the world. “I can’t,” you gasp.

“Yes you can, doll. You can take it.” Fuck– he was using his father voice. Stern, authoritative, the kind of voice you can’t say no to. You could have come right then and there from his voice alone, cooing at your pretty pussy like a cat. He pressed his hips sharply into yours and watched your back arch away from the seats and your eyes prick with tears. “Logan!”

“You act like you’ve never been fucked before. Does my son not do a good job?”

You shook your head feverishly. “Never– ” you swallowed, “–like this.” Never made you cum for that matter. If you knew fucking your boyfriend's father would have been like this, you would have done this a whole lot sooner.

You could feel him in your stomach. You pressed your hand to your belly and felt the bulge of his cock under your skin. You whimpered at the feeling, tracing where his cock head poked through. You could feel him pressing against your tender womb.

You let Logan cum in you. It was easy to with a face like his. You let him sink himself deep inside, a guttural groan rattling out from his throat, satisfied as he emptied his balls inside you. You could help but giggle as he came in you. The thought of possibly having his baby didn't bother you as much as you thought it would. Logan was a good man, well, as good as one can be while fucking his son’s girlfriend.

Logan didn't want to leave you unsatisfied though you were more than used to it. He grabbed your hips and pulled you up, back arching as he dipped down and kissed your cum-soaked pussy. His tongue found your clit with ease, licking tenderly at the bud between your legs, eyes peering over your pelvis, looking down at you.

Your legs trembled over his shoulder, toes pointing with each rough lick against your puffy pussy. “‘s too much, too much.” His lips were latched to your lips, suckling.

Cumming on his tongue was an easy job. He made it so simple yet so powerful. You quivered under every lick, your body rolling with the waves of your orgasm. It was sweet, savory, like tender peaches on a warm, summer evening.

Who knew revenge could taste so sweet?

[yaymiyas]

THE HUSBAND

warning: female reader, saer being….saer, yan!isekai!crown prince

a/n: i was so burnt out so lets see what i come up with ….its short ik and yes im cooking up something w cynthia LET ME COOK 🫡🙄🔥🔥🔥🔥💯💯💯💯

the idea of divorce was swimming in the mist of your mind hours before you regained most of the movement in your body. you knew you had to get out of this situation in a peaceful but quick manner. in your mind, leaving saer should have been easy since he hated edina more than the devil himself. he saw her as a shit stain satan left on earth to torture him for all of his days. so why are tears running down his face…thats odd? from all of the tweets, forums, and blogs saer had close to no emotions for edina. he hated her through and through. in the original story, he would’ve cheered of joy if she simply asked to part ways. so why was he sitting in front of you crying? was the bacon too salty? was he remembering the good ol’ times with his late father? ever since you’ve transmigrated into this story, everything has been so weird. aside from you being close to perfectly fine after being fed poison, saer has became more careful.

in the book, saer was close to a bubbling idiot. every single assassination attempt was stopped by a maid because he was stupid. he always played it as cynthia and amanda favoring edina but that wasnt the full truth. he was just too obvious with everything he was doing. you actually kind of felt back for the dummy, no wonder gracie wants nothing to do with him. regardless of any of that, you actually started to feel a bit bad for him. it was obvious saer didnt know why he was crying or how to stop it by the way his face was balled up in red confusion. maybe it was out of guilt or for the plot, either way you wanted to help him. maybe he wanted to kill you but seeing a grown man cry really did break your heart.

“now, saer..”

gently pushing your hand out to cover his larger ones, you put on a voice of concern. you want to help the poor idiot but you also want to get out of this house alive. maybe playing the sweet docile wife could do you some good, maybe—

“ugh, stupid bitch get off of me.”

slapping your hand off of his, saer attempted to keep a face of pure disgust plastered for you to see. why on earth was he crying, and why on earth are you being so off-putting? at first, your new actions didnt really bother him. were they different? yes, but they weren’t unpleasant. but now...it was as if the poison made you utterly indifferent to his presence, which he told himself he loved, but the lord knows thats a lie. you quietly sitting there, dry-face, with a slight frown and uninterested body language, angered him. saer was crying purely for reactions. he thought that crying would help him close this conversation and make you jump up and beg for his forgiveness, but no. all you did was lift your grimly, beastly fingers to ‘comfort’ him. what a joke of a woman.

“im finished with my breakfast”

the scream of the chair was louder than your own thoughts, kicking you out of your own subconscious. what even was that about? you were TRYING to be the version of edina you thought he would like, second from you killing yourself right there and then. so why was he acting like you were trying to jump his bones? he is such a wicked man….such a sad excuse of a person. its such a shame his attitude is so sour, you were going to try to soften his walls to see if he would lighten up on the poisoning situation. how did he get it? who did he get it from?

“madam,”

lightly placing her hand on your shoulder, cynthia appeared. scaring you out of your thoughts, you straightened your back and put on the best fake smile you could. you knew cynthia didnt really care for you, as demonstrated by the bath she gave you earlier, but you thought that maybe you could melt this ice queen. her soft ginger coils shaped her face in all the right places, giving her olive skin the type of glow women in the real world would kill for. she had green eyes to match alone with it, making it easy to find yourself lost in them. cynthia was a beautiful woman; just how did she become a maid for this jackass?

“his royal highness has ordered for you to be sent to your room.”

[lacydollette]

pov: you are in a secret relationship with jensen ackles !

youruser

Liked by madelyncline and others

youruser in aspen it’s snowin’ ❄️

view comments

girlblogg y/n living her best life

vixen67 why can’t I be y/n??

yourbestiesuser so sad i couldn’t make it, but have fun you two

youruser we definitely are 😎

anonuser who is this secret hottie @/youruser

modelzdaily gotta fbi my way into this atp

randomuser there’s been rumors that she’s dating @/jensenackles

spnfan726 stop spreading lies

ari4president isn’t he married??

randomuser girl- he’s been divorced for like a year now 😭

jensenackles

Liked by jaredpadalecki and others

jensenackles 🏂

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hellraiser666 oh he been livin’

spnfan618 a vacay with jensen would make me go sane again

forjackles you’re so real for that

randomuser getting all cozy with @/youruser huh

j2indahouse can u not? nothings confirmed

randomuser please its so obvious

gibson-g1rl he looks so good..im going feral

superstarmisha bark bark

youruser

Liked by misha and others

youruser yeehaw 🤠

view comments

anonuser it’s giving summer camp and im here for it

hottogo dreamy

yourbestiesuser my favorite cowgirl

youruser smooches 😽

tvdstan3 helloo?? I wanna know who she’s with all the time

genpadalecki the hat’s been made for you 🙌🏼

youruser duh i had the best shopping partner !!

spnfam67 *shook*

daddycas123 a duo we didn’t know we needed

jensenackles

Liked by youruser and others

jensenackles pretty comfortable up here 😁

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beanwinchester this man aged like fine wine fr

youruser save a horse, ride a cowboy

liked by jensenackles

joywithin oh..OH-

spnultras SHE DID NOT

jacklesmylove ohgod he liked her comment

jaredpadalecki why the long face? 🤣🤣

winchesterbros no jared..nope

randomuser i wanna ride (not the horse tho)

youruser

Liked by jensenackles and others

youruser about last week 🍝

view comments

dailyfits ohh she bougie

mishabear THE TATTOO?? THATS JENSEN

spnfan123 yup, definitely him

sammygirl why is no one talking about this??

girlzzz444 face card never declines

jesswinchester jensen carrying her shoes? 😫

sirenshay such a gentleman,,im so jealous

belovedregina serving cunt in all possible languages

supernctural they must be dating atp

hope u enjoyed this, i always wanted to do something like this !!

feedback and requests would be appreciated.

got inspired by the lovely @gibson-g1rl !!

tags: @gibson-g1rl @nuemanfilms @angelicjackles @nxptvn @pinkgic @nourties @alluvthegurlz

[greensagephase]

For Better or Worse - Part 2

Pairings: Miguel O'Hara x Female!Reader Summary: Overwhelmed, you seek a moment of solitude on your sister's wedding day at the garden, but you can't even have that thanks to your sister's now brother-in-law, Miguel. Word Count: 6.8k Warnings: use of y/n; no name for your sister still (I think we're just going to go with a nickname); some cussing; alcohol consumption; pesky aunts and a divorced man offer unsolicited opinions; some Spanish but translations are provided in text; a bit of arguing; suggestive content, so MDNI, please!; reader is fluent in Spanish; I think that's all A/N: hiiii, finally updating this after two months 🫠 But anyway, I just wanted to give a big thank you to @lauraolar14 for the amazing fanart she made from part 1!! Found here ! Thank you, Lara!! 🥰 Pls go and support her!! Masterlist | Spotify Previous Part

You down a glass with water and place it on a tray just as a waiter offers you another drink. You politely decline before letting your gaze wander around the elegant venue your sister and Gabriel chose for the reception, thinking how it’s truly beautiful and perfect for the wedding they both envisioned.

Your eyes eventually land on the newlyweds as they dance, a smile tugging at your lips. They’ve been dancing nonstop since their first dance, which means their feet will likely be sore tomorrow. However, by tomorrow afternoon they should be in their honeymoon destination, relaxing from the last couple of days of last minute wedding shenanigans and basking in their newlywed energy.

“Aww, sweetie,” someone says, ripping your attention from your sister and now brother-in-law. It’s one of your aunts. You offer a polite smile as she approaches, your gut warning you about her intentions. “Look at you.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Look at me…?” you state but it sounds more like a question.

“This must be so hard for you,” your aunt says, taking your arm and holding it, with a sad tone that matches the frown on her face.

You hold back from sighing in annoyance, recognizing where this is going. You’ve heard it twice already from two other aunts.

“Not really. I know she’s the baby of the family, but well, we all grow up, right?” you reply, forcing a smile. You hope your words will deter your aunt from explaining what she truly means, but unfortunately for you, it doesn’t.

“Aw, not that, sweetie. I mean, yes, but I was referring to how hard it must be for you as the eldest. Seeing your younger sister get married before you - it must be so hard. You should’ve been married by now, maybe with a little toddler at your side. Instead, you’ve found yourself witnessing your younger sister marry first, and who knows, maybe pregnant in a few months, but cheer up, sweetie. Don’t let this make you feel less, okay? Sometimes… Not everyone has the pleasure of marrying and experiencing motherhood, but that’s alright. I’m sure you have other… things that bring happiness to you, like… your job?” your aunt says, giving your arm what she thinks is a reassuring squeeze, but is rather an uncomfortable one. On top of that, she’s delivering another jab at you she doesn’t even know she’s making. “I’m sure that brings a lot of satisfaction to you.”

“Thank you for your kind words,” you force yourself to say with a fake smile that seems to go past your aunt. You silently pray she leaves you alone and that this is the last time you have to hear the same “comforting” and “reassuring” words for the night. You hope so, or you’ll slap someone. Mentally, of course. You’d never cause any kind of commotion publicly, much less at your sister’s wedding when you care so deeply about her and Gabriel. Besides, that’d give the people a field day and fill their minds with thoughts of you being “jealous” or “resentful” about your sister marrying before you.

Thankfully, your aunt leaves, off to offer more unsolicited advice and words of comfort, probably.

“Mierda [shit],” you sigh just as you hear a man somewhere behind you.

“Ah, Miguel! It’s been so long since I’ve seen you. Working all the time, huh?”

Subtly, you glance behind you at the man’s words. You didn’t even know Miguel was nearby, but now knowing he is, you wonder if he heard your aunt. You hope he didn’t as the last thing you want is Miguel to think you were looking at the newlyweds with jealously and that that was the reason your aunt felt the need to provide those “reassuring” words.

“Yes, yes. I stay busy working,” you hear Miguel reply.

“Good for you. And you’re still single?” the man asks.

“Si. No tengo pareja [Yes. I don’t have a partner],” Miguel replies, a hint of humor in his tone.

“That’s good, that’s good! No plans of marriage in sight for you. It’s better that way. You can spend your money how you want to, no children involved, no woman bothering you about grand gestures, or making you spend money. Enjoy your youth, have your fun. Maybe later on, you can settle down.”

You continue to watch the people on the dance floor, but you can’t help but scoff to yourself at the difference.

Your aunt was just pitying you about not being married and having children, but Miguel is being celebrated for the same thing by this man when he’s a few years older than you. You grab a glass from a waiter’s tray, thanking him. “I need one, or two after the crap I’m hearing,” you murmur to yourself as he walks away.

“You think so?” Miguel asks. “At my age, people think I ought to be married. Maybe with a kid or two.”

“No, no. Trust me, it’s better. That’s why I divorced.”

“I thought it was your wife who divorced you,” Miguel says gently. Despite the gentleness, Miguel’s words tear down the man’s attempt to make it seem like he had been the one to make the decision, and had you been watching Miguel, you would’ve noticed his raised brow to go along with it.

“Ah - well. Yes… But who cares? I’m divorced and free. I’m doing better than I was.” The man laughs. “I’m doing so, so, so great...” he says trailing off before chugging down some alcohol, a sign of a man who is most definitely doing great.

You roll your eyes. God bless that woman, she made the right choice divorcing the idiot behind you.

“Yeah, well…” you hear Miguel start. “I guess marriage is not for everyone. I’m not going to say it’s not for me, though. Who knows? Maybe one day a woman catches my attention.”

“You’ll be a miserable man, trust me. Don’t let any woman lure you into the marriage trap. You’re too young. Enjoy your youth. Go on dates. Have fun, if you know what I mean,” the man says, using a tone that leaves no doubt about what he’s referring to.

You decide you’ve heard enough, so you walk away, glass in hand. You glance at your sister and Gabriel from the sidelines of the dance floor, still dancing and lost in their own little and magical bubble. The sight brings a smile to your face once more before you turn, seeking a moment to yourself.

You step out of the venue, sighing deeply as you walk into a garden area where photos were taken earlier in the day. You briefly recall the photo session and how you were forced to take some photographs with the groom’s best man, who looked equally displeased to stand next to you, the maid of honor. You stood next to each other, stiff as surf boards and hands clasped in front of you with the most serious faces.

“This is the most scoffs, eye rolls, and scowls I’ve ever seen in a photo shoot. C’mon, guys! You’re the maid of honor and the best man. And -” Arturo, the cameraman, paused, walking closer. “Respective eldest siblings to the bride and groom. You should be acting like - a family. Here, let’s just move a little closer,” he said, finding it easier to move you instead of Miguel, and moving you closer to him.

You stiffened even more at that and Miguel scoffed at the way you were acting, like he had some incurable disease.

“You, too, señor [sir]. Please step closer,” Arturo gently demanded.

That earned Arturo a scoff and a glare.

“Yeah, O’Hara. Move closer and stop wasting time,” you added, innocently.

“Thank you, señorita [miss],” Arturo replied happily, believing he had at least turned your attitude around when in reality, you were simply taking the opportunity to poke fun at Miguel. It was the only way to make the photo session bearable.

With an eye roll, Miguel stepped closer until his arm brushed against yours. “Better?” he said through gritted teeth.

“Better,” Arturo confirmed. “Though…” he trailed off, frowning.

“You look like a three-day old piece of bolillo [savory bread in MX + other Latin countries],” you said all too seriously. “Stiff.”

Arturo, bless his heart, turned away and attempted to hide his shock.

With a poker face, you turned to look at Miguel and found a scowl, his eyes on you already.

“A three-day old piece of bolillo?” he repeated, annoyance dripping from his mouth. “And what are you? A fresh, sweet, soft piece of cortadillo [a kind of pan dulce; Mexican pastry], I suppose?”

You snorted at that. “I’m flattered you think of me like that. Cortadillo is so good,” you replied, smirking softly.

“Dios mio [my God], I’m just trying to do my job and those two are talking about pan dulce [Mexican pastries],” Arturo complained from somewhere, thinking he was quiet enough that he wasn’t going to be heard, but he was.

Miguel and you stared at each other as the cameraman’s words of frustration rang in your heads. You held each other’s gazes and as much as you both wanted to keep the glares and scowls, Arturo made both of you smile and then burst into quiet laughter.

In the end, Arturo got his opportunity with that moment of laughter and managed to capture the best man and maid of honor smiling in each other’s presence before you both ran off to get other duties done once the photographs were done.

You shake your head from the memory and look up at the garden lights hanging over you, giving the area a whimsical look, before you walk further away from the door and into a less well-lit area.

You sigh deeply again, something you’ve found yourself doing too much lately. The comments from your pesky aunts and the conversation you overheard have caused you some irritation, but it’s not just that. You’ve been trying to ignore a problem that’s been weighting on you all day. You’ve tried not to let it dampen your mood, today being your sister’s wedding, and you had succeeded until now. On a normal day, those conversations with your aunts and the man’s words to Miguel would’ve mattered little to you, but with the big issue in your life right now, they’ve managed to put you in a bad mood.

The big issue?

You were forced to resign from your job two days ago, leaving you unemployed.

It wasn’t anything that you did, but rather what you refused to do that led to the decision. You grimace in disgust just thinking about it all over again. You started working at the company two years ago and everything was great with you rising up the ranks quickly due to your hard work and determination, but as you rose higher and higher, you were warned.

You were told to be cautious of your boss and his wandering hands. You did your best to avoid him on your own and always kept a professional attitude to set clear boundaries. Foolishly, you thought you were safe with two years in and no impropriety on your boss’s side, but you were wrong.

Two days ago, he cornered you in his office to make his move. Of course, you made it known you weren’t interested nor willing to do anything beyond what is professional. Even when you were promised a promotion if you “played” the game, you refused - something that angered your boss. Apparently, the disgusting man believed you’d accept his advances. Despite taking it to HR, nothing was done because of the position and status your boss holds within the company. You knew then that you needed to leave the company, so you did.

You don’t regret it. You’ll never give yourself away like that to some disgusting and horrible man, even if you’re unemployed now.

However, you don’t look forward to job searching and all that it entails. Thinking about it makes you feel stressed and even some anxiety. Then, there’s also the words from your ex-boss, his promise to make it hard for you to find a job within your field.

You wonder. Surely he doesn’t have that much power, right?

You hope not.

You down the rest of the drink, briefly thinking about how you should probably stop drinking by now, but the unexpected change, one you’re carrying on your own because you refused to tell your family about it with the wedding coming up, is weighing heavily on you now.

Your thoughts are interrupted when you hear the door open, follow by footsteps. You recognize it’s not a woman’s, at least you don’t think so since there’s no sounds of heels, but either way, you can’t help but feel annoyed that someone has stepped out and taken your small moment of solitude. You just wanted a moment to yourself, but it seems that whoever stepped out, decided otherwise.

“Ah, you’re here, too?”

Rolling your eyes, you turn to face Miguel O’Hara. Of course, it had to be him of all people.

Miguel stands a few feet from the door, hands inside the pockets of his perfectly tailored pants while staring at you. For some reason, your annoyance grows at the way it hugs him in what women would say the “right way,” which you’re certain many women did comment on tonight, considering you caught many staring at him like he’s a piece of candy. You’re sure many are probably having little fantasies of him now; recalling how tall he is for a Mexican man, his wide shoulders only enhanced by his suit jacket, and the way his hair frames his chiseled face so well like God himself styled it for him.

And if they shook his hand, they may be thinking about how large and warm it was, how it felt against their own.

There may even be some women imagining making their parents suegros [parents-in-laws] and planning some elaborate wedding in their heads, thinking the bride today will be like a sister to them.

“Yes,” you simply reply, turning away again and making it known you don’t wish to talk. He can stay over there, on his own little spot, and let you be over here, unbothered.

“Needed some fresh air?”

Great.

“Yes.”

Miguel snorts, decreasing the distance between you. He’s still not in your space, but he’s significantly closer now. “One-word answers. You must be having a night.”

You don’t reply. Maybe if you don’t he’ll go back inside, but with your luck recently, doubtful.

“Did the comments from your aunts get to you?” he asks suddenly when you say nothing else.

“What comments?”

“You know very well which ones. I happened to be there, you know. When the first aunt went over, the second one, and then, the third and last one.”

You scoff. “Didn’t know you were a chismoso [gossiper; masculine noun].”

Miguel snorts again. “It’s not my fault they talk so loudly and I happened to be there.”

True on the talking too loud, but you still wish he hadn’t heard, just like you wish you hadn’t heard him being celebrated for the same things you were being pitied on.

“Right, and are you here to offer words of comfort, too?” you reply in a snappy tone. “Or, are you out here to celebrate how you were recommended to stay clear from commitment by your friend?”

Miguel scoffs. You really think he’s that kind of man?

“If you heard the conversation, surely you heard what I said,” he replies defensively turning his body to face you now. “I don’t agree with that mindset.”

“You know -” you step back and pinch the bridge of your nose for a second. “I don’t care. Can you just - leave me alone?” you snap, stepping away. You don’t care about the topic anyway, it’s not the reason why you’re truly upset. Miguel O’Hara can do whatever he wants with his life and your aunts can nag and pity you, you don’t care. What you care about is the fact you lost your job the way you did and that now you’re unemployed.

“No,” Miguel says, upset. “I’m not. You seem to think you have me all figured out, don’t you? Just because we’ve never been two to get along. I’m not that kind of man.”

“I don’t care what kind of man you are. This isn’t about you.”

Miguel steps forward, his body brushing against your arm making you turn to face him, too. You glare at him.

“This isn’t about me, but I’m receiving the brunt of your anger.”

“I’m not angry about what you think I am, alright? I could care less what my aunts said, what that man said to you, though it’s unfair, but it’s not what’s on my mind. So, do me a favor and drop it. Leave me alone. You’re not the center of my world,” you reply with a scoff before turning away from him.

“What a shame,” Miguel murmurs following you. He grabs your arm and pulls you back, his hand wrapping around your flesh with enough force to keep you still without hurting you. “¿Que te pasa [what’s the matter]? Why are you so upset if it’s not that, then?”

You tug at your arm, a fruitless attempt to free yourself since Miguel doesn’t let go.

“Answer the question,” he demands, those deep brown eyes looking straight at you.

“It’s none of your business,” you answer, still glaring at Miguel.

He scoffs, holding your gaze as you look at him like he’s the most disgusting thing your eyes could ever lay upon.

“You’re such a fucking brat,” he mumbles, his grip tightening around your arm slightly, tugging you closer to him. With narrowed eyes, he holds your gaze for a few seconds before images of your lips flash in his mind from the dance lessons.

He had never been that close to you before, never held nor touched you.

Miguel had never noticed the way your eyelashes framed your eyes, the shape of your lips, nor had he ever noticed your scent, a mixture of your very own essence and perfume. It’s the kind of scent that makes a man weak in the knees and wish for a closer inhale. No, Miguel had never noticed those things about you and it was to his great annoyance that not only had he noted them, but that those details had also made him feel weird afterwards.

Miguel felt so off that he had to make up the excuse about having a call to make. In reality, all he did was step out and take some fresh air, his mind boggled with the entire situation from the comments the dance instructor made about the two of you being in love and sharing passion to his little stunt after your two left feet comment and your payback, which left an ache on his foot, to the details he had never noticed about you. His mind was boggled and yet, you were the same as always with him; annoyed by, distant from, and uninterested in him.

And for some reason, it bothered him that day.

When he went back inside, he found you on the other side of the dance studio, looking closely at the couple and offering some advice to help them, ignoring his presence. Even when the four of you met up at the parking lot once again after the dance lesson, your attitude was the same. Your sister and Gabriel asked if either of you were interesting in grabbing something to eat, but you declined so fast and stated you had other things to do before the wedding, “maid of honor duties” you called them.

He watched with a scowl as you got in your car and left, only having said bye to the couple while barely giving him a glance of acknowledgement despite the conversation you had just had about making things work for the sake of your sister and Gabriel.

Of course, Miguel declined the invitation, too. He was in no mood to be third wheeling and he did have some things to do for work, so he, too, left with thoughts of your annoying self on his mind.

He eventually placated his thoughts with work, including dealing with his team and the fact that his current assistant put in their four weeks. Thankfully, he still has some time left before his assistant leaves, which he hopes is enough time to find someone to fill in the position. Either way, his work helped him set his thoughts about you aside that day.

Now, Miguel pushes past his thoughts and focuses on you, still holding your arm.

“And what of it?” you reply to his comment about you being a brat, still glaring at him so fiercely and angrily about whatever you’re upset about, proving Miguel you can be such a brat sometimes.

For two seconds Miguel has a thought - bending you over his knee and teaching you a lesson to tame that bratty attitude of yours. Then, his brain betrays him and he imagines what you’d sound like if he did. Would you still be a little brat when his heavy palm makes contact with your rear, or would you whimper and -

“You’re so upset,” Miguel says in an almost breathless way, his mind blanking for a second. “If it’s not your aunts’ comments, then what is it? It must be something of importance, if it has you like this on your sister’s wedding day,” Miguel adds, trying to focus on the moment at hand and not on whatever the hell his brain is going on about. He decides, quickly, that he’s probably had a few too many tequila shots. That’s probably why his brain is acting up. Surely.

“As I said earlier, it’s none of your business,” you reply, once again trying to free your arm, but to no avail. The giant man has you rooted to his side.

“Bullshit,” Miguel replies. His brother married into your family and your sister into his, that makes the two of you something now, doesn’t it? You’re tied for life now, for better or worse, in this way thanks to your siblings. And, the two of you did agree to get along for their sake.

“No te metas en lo que no te importa [don’t get involved in what doesn’t bother you],” you snap. “Mind your business. We may have agreed to be civil, but that doesn’t mean we’ll be besties.”

“As if, princesita [little princess],” Miguel responds with a scoff. “I wouldn’t be able to take your little attitude for two hours, even if I was paid, much less be ‘besties’ with you.”

“We have that in common, at least. I wouldn’t spend a day with you, even for a million dollars,” you reply, even though you could really use a million dollars, especially now.

Miguel smirks, amused by your response, and pulls you closer. “Not even if I paid you two million?”

“Not even five.”

Lies, lies, lies. You wouldn’t be worrying about being unemployed if you had even just one million dollars in the bank right now.

Miguel shrugs. “Maybe it’s too little, they’re little numbers after all,” he replies with a cocky smirk, for some reason bragging about his wealth to you now, something he’s never done before to anyone, but then again, his brain is not working accordingly right now.

Scoffing, you roll your eyes. You know Miguel is a CEO for a company you’ve never bothered to learn the name of, so you’re not surprised he has money, but saying five million dollars is “too little” is aggravating, and kind of shocking.

“Whatever, let go of me. Now,” you demand.

Miguel now scoffs at your demanding tone as if he couldn’t easily throw you over his shoulder and carry you off, or pin you against a wall.

“¿Qué tal si te digo que no? ¿Qué vas a hacer entonces, princesita? [What if I tell you no? What are you doing then, princess?]” Miguel replies, pulling you closer, so much closer his expensive cologne surrounds you.

You breathe it in, subtly of course. It’s rich, warm, and woody mixed in with his own scent. It’s the kind that sends a pool of warmth to your very core if allowed to inhale straight from a man’s neck with your nose pressed to his sensitive and warm flesh. You freeze for a second, the very thought almost makes you grimace, the fact that you’ve thought of such thing with Miguel of all men.

“You’re gonna slam your foot on mine again like the other day?” he asks mockingly, bringing you back to your senses.

“And mess your pretty, expensive shoes?”

Miguel snorts. “I can easily replace them.”

“So, you want me to slam my foot on yours? Is that what you’re saying?” you reply, raising an eyebrow.

Miguel grins, leaning closer, so much closer. He continues to hold your gaze, holding you still.

You scoff, your gaze unwavering.

You’re such a little brat, Miguel thinks again, his hand tightening around your arm just a tad more.

“What? Can’t make up your mind now?” you ask with a smug smile.

He scowls, pulling you so much closer. Your breath fans his face and he finds himself growing still when he feels it against lips especially. He swallows deeply while holding your gaze, your scent filling his nostrils and making him lean almost instinctively.

“You can ruin the shoes, I’ll simply buy new ones. I’ll even get you some pretty heels for your trouble. ¿Trato [Deal]?” he asks quietly, his gaze flickering to your lips for a second.

And God, maybe it really is all the drinks you’ve both had tonight because you lean closer, too.

Suddenly, it feels like two rocks rubbing against each other, a spark of fire made beneath the moonlight.

“¿Que pasa [What’s wrong]? Cat got your tongue?” Miguel whispers with a smirk.

“No. I was just thinking about the color I'd like the heels,” you reply, sarcastically.

“Ah, the color. Don't worry, you can choose whatever color you like. Whatever brand. Saint Laurent, Burberry, Gucci…”

You snort. “Didn't know you were so giving, O’Hara.”

“You don't know me” Miguel replies, tilting his head a little.

You raise an eyebrow, giving him a smirk that makes Miguel's heart skip a beat. He leans slightly closer, further decreasing the distance between your faces.

“I’m a man that likes to give - to provide,” Miguel continues, his hand tightening around your arm, his gaze flickering to your lips once more.

“Ah, interesting. You're the tree that keeps on giving, hm?”

“Such a smartass,” Miguel mumbles, eyes narrowing and meeting yours again. “One of these days that mouth of yours is gonna get you in trouble.”

“I can't wait,” you reply defiantly.

Miguel scowls, your little defiance stirring something in him once more. He huffs, eyes moving to your lips yet again, not thinking straight. All he’s suddenly thinking about is closing the distance and shutting your mouth - with his own. He thinks about his mouth pressed against yours, about slipping his tongue in and swirling it around yours to taste you, to make you whine.

Meanwhile, you look at him, noticing his gaze on your lower face. You find yourself doing the same, your eyes landing on his full lips specifically. You silently wonder, despite yourself, what they’d feel like against yours and against your skin. The thought creates a fluttering feeling inside your chest, one that Miguel shares.

His heart races, his mind clouded with these strange thoughts. Miguel thinks about leaning in all the way and doing it, kissing you once and for all to satisfy a hunger and craving he’s suddenly overwhelmed with.

And he would've, if only the door leading to the garden hadn’t suddenly swung open before you both register voices.

You both pull away instantly, staring at each other like two deer caught in headlights. The realization hits the two of you like a ton of feathers at once, the truth echoing in your heads over and over again.

You were going to kiss.

You were going to kiss.

You were going to kiss.

The only thing that breaks Miguel and you from your shock are the sudden intimate noises, tearing your gazes from each other to see what’s the matter. It’s then that you both see a couple making out against the wall, totally unaware that Miguel and you are there due to the poor lighting.

Seeing the intimacy and hearing their noises of passion is all you need before you walk past Miguel, fleeing the garden area wordlessly to pull yourself together.

Miguel doesn’t try to stop you, not even when you brush past him. He stands there for a second or two before he, too, walks off in the opposite direction, hands clenched.

It’s not until you find yourself utterly alone once more that you stop walking. You stare at the ground, your heart racing while your mind plays the last few minutes over and over again. It makes no sense. There’s no way Miguel was about to kiss you, right? You huff in frustration and begin to pace back and forth, one hand clenched tightly around the glass you brought out with you as you try to make sense of the situation.

“Alcohol,” you say quickly to yourself, nodding. “Too much alcohol. It makes people do stupid things.” You nod once more, slowly calming yourself as you repeat this in your head.

At last, you stop pacing when you find reason for that near mistake.

Alcohol, which messes with your brain. Nothing more.

“Hey!”

Startled, you jump and let out a small gasp before turning. You find your mom, happily smiling.

“Come on! What are you doing out here all alone, mija [my daughter]?”

“Just - taking some fresh air,” you answer, walking over to her.

“Your sister and Gabrielito are about to cut the cake. They were wondering where you were,” your mom informs you, offering her arm to you.

You smile and accept your mom’s arm, embracing her comforting presence as you both head back inside the party.

“They were also looking for Miguel. You haven’t seen him, have you?” your mom asks, nearly making you trip.

“N - No, I haven’t,” you lie, clearing your throat and checking your shoe to pretend something is wrong with it to make up for you nearly tripping. “He’s probably talking with the men. They all seem like big fans of him.”

Your mom smiles, nodding. She hums softly as you both enter the venue again, the kind of hum that only moms can muster when they know something you don’t.

“I’m sure Miguelito is somewhere around here. Maybe he needed some fresh air, too,” your mom continues, patting your forearm as you fully enter the reception room now. “Let’s go get some cake.”

After eating cake and making toasts with your family and the guests, you stick near your parents’ side for the rest of the night, as a distraction to forget what almost happened earlier, until it’s time to see your sister and Gabriel off. You watch next to your parents as the newlyweds walk out of the venue, saying bye to the guests and other family members until it’s the immediate families’ turn at the end.

You hug your sister and Gabriel goodbye when it’s your turn, wishing them a great time and congratulating them yet again.

At last, the couple makes it to the car and gets settled. You smile softly as they wave goodbye one more time before the car departs. Watching the car grow smaller and smaller, the realization that your baby sister is married dawns on you. In the blink of an eye, she grew up and turned into a wonderful young woman. You briefly recall when she was a little girl, when she used to follow you everywhere because she wanted to do everything with you. And now, she’s all grown up and starting a new life with the love of her life.

A few feet away from you, Miguel does the same with a thoughtful expression on his face. He can’t believe Gabriel is now a married man, that he’s all grown up. He sighs, wondering where time went before he turns sideways, finding you staring in the direction of the car. He has no doubt you’re having similar thoughts like his, the two of you being the eldest siblings.

Sensing someone’s gaze, you turn, only to meet Miguel’s eyes. You stare at each other for a few seconds, the moment at the garden flashing through your minds like the highlights of a video with one particular part in replay: that moment when Miguel leaned forward and his gaze fell on your lips before you allowed yourself the same with his.

Your senses, both Miguel’s and yours, are overwhelmed in seconds. You easily recall each other’s scents, the warmth from your bodies, and the angry energy that slowly turned into something different due to the shoe talk before you fell into whatever that was at the end.

You blink at last and swallow deeply, pushing the memory away. You scoff at yourself, still holding Miguel’s gaze.

Damn alcohol and the things it makes you do and feel. Right?

You finally look away and walk off to meet your parents, not sparing Miguel another glance.

Miguel’s eyes follow you until you disappear from his sight. He runs a hand through his hair with a sigh, frustrated. He doesn’t even know if it’s at you or himself, or both. Or, maybe he’s just exhausted form the wedding planning and the actual wedding activities.

He doesn’t know anymore, just like he doesn’t know what he was thinking back at the garden. He turns away and scowls at himself. Okay, fine. He knew exactly what he was thinking: kissing and tasting you.

“Miguel-”

“What?” Miguel snaps, turning. He clears his throat when he finds Daniel, the man from earlier who was boasting about being divorced and advising Miguel to stay single for a while longer. He sighs and shakes his head. “Forgive me, Daniel. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“It’s alright. You’re probably tired from the wedding. These things are always exhausting. I was just going to ask if you are interested in joining me and some of the other guys to a bar. It’s still early,” Daniel says before three other young men reach them.

Knowing the men, Miguel knows what kind of night they hope to have; one with no attachments but filled with carnal pleasure.

Miguel shakes his head. “Thank you for the invitation, but I’m too tired. And besides, I still have to wrap up some things here regarding the venue. You guys have fun.”

The other men boo him and one even dares to call him “old fashioned” since they know Miguel isn’t interested in those type of nights with strangers. They eventually walk away, leaving Miguel alone once more. He shakes his head as he sees them pull out of the parking lot before fishing for his own car keys inside his pockets.

The truth is, Miguel has no tasks related to the venue left. A cleaning crew was hired to take care of everything so neither families would have to worry about it. The food situation was handled and the gifts have been collected to be stored for now until the couple comes back from their honeymoon.

All Miguel needs to do is wish everyone a good night and head home. That’s it. Yet… His thoughts are a storm and you’re at the center of it, the culprit.

His gaze, despite himself, searches for you. He finally spots you several feet away talking with a man, one he doesn’t know personally. Miguel watches the interaction, noticing the closeness and the way you seem at ease with the individual. Hell, you’re even laughing at something the man says.

He looks away when the man places a hand on your forearm while talking, opting to gaze at the venue’s front gardens with trimmed bushes and perfectly aligned flowers.

Miguel suddenly realizes it. He’s stalling, but why? He turns to look your way again, discreetly, and the need to talk to you suddenly hits him. He needs to talk to you about what almost happened at the garden earlier. So, Miguel takes a few steps your way.

As he approaches you, he’s unsure of what he’d even say. I’m sorry for almost kissing you? Miguel cringes internally. Should he even bring it up? Talking about it makes it more real. It means acknowledging that that almost happened between you along with admitting some level of vulnerability, something neither of you have ever shared with each other.

He suddenly finds himself standing next to you and the man, his large strides making the walk a short one. The man stops talking and looks over at him, a look of confusion at Miguel’s sudden appearance. On the other hand, to Miguel’s annoyance, you give him a look of nonchalance.

“Excuse me,” Miguel starts, acknowledging the man. “I’m sorry for interrupting, but I need a word with Ms. Y/N.”

The man nods, looking somewhat disappointed. “I see. I’ll give you two a moment,” the man says despite you beginning to protest.

You watch the man, a son of one of your dad’s friends from work, walk away. Slowly, you turn to face Miguel, keeping a neutral expression. “Yes?”

“We need to talk about what happened,” Miguel says quietly, meeting your gaze.

“What happened?” you reply, raising an eyebrow.

Miguel scoffs, his eyebrows furrowing. “Don’t give me that attitude.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“At the garden,” Miguel continues through gritted teeth in disbelief at your nonchalance.

You hum, tilting your head. “Nothing happened,” you respond.

“Are you kiddi-” Miguel starts but stops, his frustration mounting. He lowers his voice. “Don’t play stupid with me, princesita [little princess]. We both know you’re far from it.”

“You know what I know?” you ask quietly. “There’s nothing to discuss. Don’t make a storm in a glass of water, okay?” With that, you walk around him.

“Where do you think you’re going? We’re not done talking,” Miguel replies, following you.

“As far as I’m concern, we have nothing to talk about. So, I’ll see you around, Mr. O’Hara,” you say, ending the conversation as you head to your car.

“Dammit,” Miguel murmurs, still following you.

You quickly unlock your car and get inside, slamming the door close. You start the car even when you see Miguel standing next to it, trying to talk to you. Sighing, you consider rolling your window down for a few seconds to let him talk, but at the same time you don’t wish to hear him out. A part of you knows that talking about what nearly happened will make it feel important when it’s not. Or, at least you’ve made yourself believe it’s not.

You shift the car’s gear, ready to drive off, but at the last second, you roll your window down. Facing forward and with your foot on the brake, you speak. “We’ve both had drinks. Alcohol makes people do things that they wouldn’t do when they’re fully sober, even with a little bit in their system. There’s nothing to discuss nor explain. Nothing happened and that’s what matters. I’m certainly not making a big deal out of it, nor have I been offended by what nearly happened, so if that’s what you’re trying to do - apologize - save it. Have a good night,” you state firmly before driving off, leaving a frustrated Miguel in the parking lot.

Through your rear view mirror, you look at him one more time. You find him watching you drive off, his arms at his sides in a stance that lets you detect his frustration clearly. At last, you look away, certain you’ve handled the situation accordingly.

A/N: Hiii, I'm sorry for how long it took me to update, but life got crazy in August due to a family member's death and then sickness. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed part 2! When I wrote part 1, I wasn't planning on this being a multiple parts fic, but with writing part 2, I guess I am now.

I'm unsure of how long this will be. Tbh, I'm hoping for it to be short 😭🙏🏼 Like, 10 chapters or so? Maybe less. I need to sit down and plan accordingly! As you can probably guess, this will transition into a CEO!Miguel x Assistant!female reader who are also now connected because of your sister and Gabriel, so I'm just letting you guys know the forced proximity will increase! 🙂‍↕️

Thank you for reading, and I hope you're having a great day/night!!

Alondra❤️

p.s. I have attached my side Spotify account in case you guys are interested in keeping up with the music I listened to while writing this chapter.

for the people that asked me to notify them for part 2: @vera4luv @safixiovi

[eddiesxangel]

(legal age btw m not weird 😞)

dilf!eddie knowing he shouldnt be messing with a younger girl (18+ ofc) but he js needs relief after his wife left him

also may i please be 🎈 anon if not taken? ty <3

HIIIIII 🎈this got away from me

Omg ok he’s like late 40’s maybe 50. He’d be in the bar with Steve, Dustin, Mike, Lucas, you know the guys, having a celebritory/depressed drink bc the divorce had been finalized that day. Maybe you’re there for your friends 25th birthday and somehow you start flirting with Eddie and he would 100% think you’re pulling his leg bc that’s what he’s use to.

His ex was really the first relationship he had been in, they got married younger bc they were head over heels but then real life gotten in the way and they grew up and apart.

He cannot believe this hot younger girl is talking to him, he’s so out of his wheelhouse, but Steve is there to talk him up.

You “awe” when they tell you he’s newly single but that only makes you want him more. So when you suggest you take the party back to his place he’s fumbling for his keys at the opportunity. He hasn’t had sex in over two years, bc his ex wouldn’t let him touch her.

You rest your hand on his upper thigh on the short car ride back to his new home. He has a small bungalow, seriously a bachelor pad. He was not expecting company so the place is disorganized but you don’t care because your lips are attached to his neck the second he closed the door.

“Holy shit” he lets slip because is this really happening? Yes it is, he feels your hands slip up his thighs to where his hard on is starting to take form.

You run your hands all over his body, his thick arms, his small beer belly, his tense shoulders.

“You should relax, let me help you” you lead him to the couch after he takes off his leather jacket for the first time of the night and you can see more of his tattoos. You bite back a moan when he takes a seat, man spreading just inviting you to take a seat in his lap.

Your lips find his neck, you try to leave a mark but there are so many tattoos you can’t see the bruising.

Eddie still can’t believe he is with you in his house but he’s going to take advantage of every second of it. So unexpectedly he picks you up and walks you over to his bed.

With more confidence in himself he tosses you on the bed and you land with a giggle. He has you naked and on your need for him within minutes of entering the bedroom.

After he thinks you’re about to suck the soul out of his body he pushes you off and spreads you open needing to taste you. Your young tight wet pussy is like a drug. You feel his large lips sucking your clit into his mouth. He loves the feeling of your long nails gripping his hair taught. He lets out a growl into your pussy and your cumming on his tongue instantly.

He fumbles for the condoms he thankfully just bought, and when he finally penetrates you your holding him so tightly to your body you e become one.

His hips are rocking into you so good, he’s pounding into you, you can’t think. You’re so fucking. Happy you chose to come home with him, never have you had sex this good. How did his wife give this up? You don’t know but you’re sure glad because you get to experience him now.

“Eddie please!” He loved hearing his name fall from your lips. He wasn’t even sure you remembered it, he’s having trouble remembering yours if he’s being honest but he didn’t care. Your pussy was magic.

“Fuck babygirl, this pussy so tight so good” you feel his hand gently wrap around your throat, holding you in place as he watches your tits bounce with each thrust.

Your pussy is getting tighter and tighter as your orgasm creeps up on you. He needs you to cum before him, he be damned if he comes first.

The praises falling from his lips has you clenching down on his cock, and Eddie can finally let go. His cum fills the condom as he continues to fuck into you until he’s satisfied.

Once you’ve both caught your breath you get up to leave, Eddie feels sad when you start getting dressed but you insist he gives you his phone because maybe you can do it again sometime.

His stomach did a little summersault when he sees the text from the unsaved number with your name attached, and he doesn’t think he will ever forget your name again.

[cherrylovelycherry]

𓂅new order. "tarte aux fraises, mille-feuille…uhm…a macaron too."

Bitter, Sweet

pairing. Dr. Ratio x gn!reader cw/genre. angst, cheating, implied divorce, break up, lovers to strangers/exes, hurt no slightly comfort, reverse comfort summary. he cheated on you for months, and you already knew all about it full menu

Ratio comes home late at night. The air on his skin carries the faint scent of someone else — another man or woman's perfume on him. He enters the apartment, his expression stern and focused on something, not noticing you at first in the entranceway.

When he finally does see you, he looks at you with a flat and unemotional expression, almost as if he is not surprised by the fact that you've been waiting for him. He's cold and distant for a moment, then walks past you, taking his coat off.

Ratio's voice is colder than you've ever heard it before, a sharp contrast from his usual demeanor.

"What are you doing up this late," he asks. There's a touch of accusation in his voice.

He places his coat on a hanger. He looks exhausted and frustrated. Ratio turns to you, and his expression softens just a bit, almost imperceptibly, when he sees your face. His eyes soften, if only for a fleeting moment.

"I could not sleep." You said, looking down for a moment, then looking up, smiling a little.

The hot water you had in your cup was no longer just water, you put tea inside, along with some sugar cubes to give it some sweetness, as you liked so much.

Ratio raised an eyebrow. He looks at the cup in your hands. He's still distant, and his voice is cold and harsh on the surface. But beneath his stoic exterior, there's a glimmer of something deeper.

"Tea this late? Do you have any idea how unhealthy that is?" he inquires, eyeing the cup.

You smile. "It helps me relax," you reply. "Helps soothe my nerves."

Your eyes focused on the tea, the cubes already almost melted by the heat of the tea that embraced them. You gave your fingers a gentle touch to the rim of the cup, tracing the entire round edge gently.

"Do you want some?" You asked, voice calm, looking up to look at him again.

Ratio hesitated for a split second, his stoic demeanor wavering.

“No, thanks." he says finally, his voice losing a bit of its cold edge.

You laughed softly upon hearing his denial of your proposal.

You brought the cup to your lips, taking a sip, the taste was nostalgic while at the same time somewhat bitter.

The silence was tense, you never liked those silences. You never liked it when the house was silent.

You felt his gaze at all times.

With your free hand that wasn't holding the cup, you unlocked your phone, looking at the photos you had in favorites. You and him, fond times, you smiled to yourself when you saw those photos. Until, as you continued passing by, you came across the photo. No, the photos.

Those that made you realize why the house was so solemn and lifeless.

Your expression remained calm at all times, something that internally surprised you but you were grateful, you weren't a fan of drama.

The air around you grew heavy, and the tension in the air thickened.

He saw your expression remain calm, and it was… surprising. It was unlike what he'd expected, considering the circumstances.

You had had the photos for months, you didn't count how many, you just approximated them. Photos and screenshots of conversations, which at first made you repulsive, now only gave you a bitter feeling, like unsweetened tea.

"Do you remember when we were young?" You asked, putting your phone aside.

Ratio tensed at your question, his eyes searching your face for any hint of anger, frustration, or sadness. Instead, he saw a calmness and… resignation. He could not understand that. It was puzzling.

A distant look crossed his face as he thought for a moment, before replying, "Of course, I do."

His voice seemed cold and distant, but beneath that facade was a hint of vulnerability. It was as if he was holding back a torrent of emotions beneath a thin veneer of stoicism.

Memories of younger days flooded his mind, a contrast to the present situation.

You took a sip of the tea, not caring at all about how bitter it was. The sugar didn't dissolve completely, leaving a slight sweetness in the liquid.

"Oh and the time I put sugar in your coffee for the first time and you ended up spitting it out?" Remembering the moment, you couldn't help but laugh lightly. His face all displeased was something you could never forget.

Ratio rolled his eyes "I still remember that." he says, a hint of annoyance in his voice. "It tasted terrible. Why would you even think of putting sugar in my coffee?"

But even as he said this, there was a subtle shift in his expression, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The memories were like a balm on a wound, easing the tension in the air.

He remembered that moment well, the unexpected sweetness of the bitter coffee causing a comical expression to form on his face. Even in the current tense situation, that memory brought a hint of warmth to his eyes.

"You always had a fondness for sweet things." he responded, a faint hint of amusement in his voice.

A smile formed on your face as he mentioned your love for sweetness. "You're right about that," you say, raising the cup to your lips and taking another sip.

You remembered his dislike for sweet things, a contrast to your own fondness for sweets. In a certain way, you completed each other that way.

"But let's be honest," you added. "your coffee did taste better with sugar. I was just helping you discover that."

A small, barely noticeable laugh escaped Ratio's lips. Despite his cold demeanor, you knew how to reach his softer side, to draw out a genuine laugh or smile.

He was silent for a moment, trying to keep his usual serious demeanor. But the memories of those sweeter times reminded him of the person you were, of the bond you once shared.

"At least I didn't lie on the first date saying that you knew how to drink stale coffee."

He paused, remembering how your face instantly grimaced at the unique flavor of that coffee.

"Your face literally contorted."

Your face flushed at the memory of that first date. Ratio's words brought back the memory of that cringe-worthy moment when you tried to impress him by pretending to enjoy a cup of stale coffee, only to recoil at its taste.

"Well, I was trying to seem cool, okay?" you said, shaking your head in slight embarrassment. "But in hindsight, a simple soda would have been a better choice…"

You set the cup down for a moment, taking a breath.

"Do you remember the time we went stargazing?" You asked, a distant look in your eyes.

Ratio's expression softened as he recalled that night under the stars. The two of you had lain on a blanket in a quiet meadow, staring up at the night sky.

His memories of those moments came rushing back — the way the stars reflected in your eyes, the sound of faint night creatures, and the feeling of contentment that had washed over him then.

"Yes, I remember," he said softly. His voice held a bittersweet tone, a mix of fondness and melancholy.

"It was the first time that—"

You cut off his speech. "That you said you loved me…"

His eyes widened slightly as you finished his sentence. The memories of the night filled his mind – the stars, the laughter and the quiet confession of love. It seemed like a lifetime ago. He hadn't realized how much his heart still ached from the recollection of those moments.

Ratio's voice remained quiet as he nodded, his expression hardening again.

"A lot has changed since then," he said, his tone detached.

He knew it, he knew he had done things he regretted. But now it seemed to be too late to think about regrets.

He knew that you were already aware of everything.

The air between you two grew heavy again. The silence that stretched out was filled with unspoken emotions, a web of bittersweet memories intertwined with the present.

"Change is inevitable," you said calmly, your gaze fixed on your tea. "Nothing stays the same forever."

The warmth of the cup in your hands offered a moment of comfort amid the turmoil inside you. "We grow, we adapt, like streams that meander through time."

You gently let go of your grip on the cup. It had stopped being hot, you sensed that it was hot from the touch you had with both hands.

In addition, since the tea was already cold, a few pieces of sugar did not melt due to lack of heat and lack of constant movement with the spoon.

You couldn't finish the tea.

"I really miss those moments…" You whispered to yourself, focusing on Ratio again. You placed the cup on the kitchen table, moving a little closer to him.

He heard your whispered confession and felt a pang of longing in his heart. He knew how much those moments meant to you, and to him too.

As you moved closer, he looked at you, his eyes conveying a mix of emotion – regret, guilt, pain. The air seemed to grow heavier with unspoken words and memories.

The weight of your gaze and the closeness broke through a fraction of his cold demeanor, the distance between you both felt smaller.

"I…"

He wanted to say something, anything, but the right words eluded him.

A heavy silence filled the air, the gravity of regret and longing palpable. Despite everything, your presence stirred a maelstrom of emotions within him.

Your eyes searched his in the silence. "I know," you whispered softly, the weight of the unspoken words hanging in the air.

The tension in the room was almost tangible as both of you remained silent, the only sound the intermittent rain outside. You moved even closer, your body now only a breath away from his.

And that's where he noticed it, your eyes that he liked to look at so much were red, as if you had cried before.

Your hands rose to the height of his neck. "And that's fine." You spoke, while fixing the collar of his untidy shirt.

It was messy, being a confirmation of the evidence you had on your phone.

Your touch on his neck sent a shiver down his spine. Your touch, so gentle and comforting, contrasted with the heaviness in his chest.

He was caught off guard by your proximity and the sudden realization that you knew more than you had let on.

Ratio's shoulders slumped slightly, defeated.

"How can it be fine?" He whispered back, his voice choked. The air between you both thickened with the unspoken truth. There was no escaping the reality of his actions.

You leaned even closer, You stood on your toes a little to make your forehead touch his. Like two pieces of a puzzle made to be together.

"Everything will be fine."

Ratio remained tense, conflicted between pulling away and surrendering to the comfort of your presence. He let himself go and hunched his back a little, so he could savoring the feeling of your skin on his. He closed his eyes for a few seconds.

His chest ached, the guilt and pain of the past weighing heavily on him.

"You're just saying that…" he mumbled, his voice barely audible.

Your words were also a self-consolation for you, assuring you that everything would be okay. You would be fine.

You moved away a little, separating that touch from your foreheads, placing your feet on the ground completely.

Your fingers traced the outline of his neck, your touch soothing and familiar. As you spoke, your voice was tinged with a hint of sadness and acceptance.

"Everything changes, and we too have grown apart," you confessed softly. "It's natural that we can't stay the same forever."

Ratio felt a wave of guilt wash over him, the weight of his betrayal heavy on his shoulders. He wanted to apologize, to make amends, but the words stuck in his throat.

"I…" He began, his voice choked. The words "I'm sorry" remained unsaid.

Plus he knew you didn't just deserve an apology.

You slowly removed your hands from his neck, placing a thumb on his cheek instead. Covertly erasing a lipstick mark that was near his lips. You smiled bitterly at that, feeling how your emotions betrayed you, making your eyes watery.

The touch of your thumb, wiping away the evidence of his betrayal, sent a jolt of shame through Ratio. He couldn't bear the sight of your heartache, your sorrows.

As he watched you, the pain in your gaze spoke louder than any words. Despite everything, you had tried to understand, to forgive, to accept. His chest ached with a mixture of guilt and regret.

"I wish I could take it all back," he whispered, his voice cracked. His hands gently gripped tightly at his sides. "I wish I could undo it all."

You listened to his words, his voice tinged with sincere regret. The pain he felt was evident, but you couldn't help but feel a bit hollow as you spoke.

Your thumb gently stroked his cheek, the touch a mixture of affection and resignation.

"I know," you replied quietly. " But you can't."

The weight of those words hung heavily in the air. The bitter reality was that some actions could not be reversed, no matter how much anyone wished otherwise.

Ratio's heart clenched at your words, the weight of his mistakes even more palpable. Your touch on his cheek, though tender, made him flinch as if the touch of your fingers burned.

He wanted to reach out, to hold you close, but the guilt and shame held him back. The fear of causing you more pain, the knowledge that he no longer deserved your affection, made him remain distant.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered again, his voice choked.

You let out a shaky breath before speaking. "The stars know how bound I am to you."

You released your grip on his face, this time grabbing one of his hands. Placing something there, something that kept you attached to him in a more official way.

You closed his hand, grabbing it with both of your hands, as if a part of you would leave when you released your grip on them.

AsRatio looked down at his closed fist, he could feel a familiar weight and form through his skin.

Ratio's eyes widened slightly as he recognized by touch what you had placed in his hand – the small engagement ring. It was the same ring that had sealed their mutual promise of eternal love and commitment. The symbol of their love, no matter how rocky their path had become.

The feel of the ring was both a comfort and a dagger to his chest. A reminder of what they had lost.

No matter how vain or material that small object is, a piece of you was going in his hands.

"My heart will always, but always, belong to you, Veritas."

Your declaration was sincere, tinged with sadness and an underlying hope.

Ratio's grip on his ring tightened, the mix of pain and guilt nearly overwhelming him. He couldn't bear hearing your words, the depth of your feelings, knowing he had destroyed your trust.

"Why?—" He choked out, his voice barely above a whisper. "How can you say that?"

Ratio's gaze was torn between you and the ring he held, your words striking at his core, a bitter irony he couldn't ignore.

A bittersweet smile formed on your lips at the question that Ratio posed, as if you knew that's how he would feel, how he'd react.

"Love is a complex thing," you said simply, gently squeezing his hand as if conveying your sincerity. "It can't be reasoned with nor controlled."

Ratio's heart ached at your words. He let out a shaky breath, feeling his eyes sting and his heart sink in his chest.

"Oh…please don't cry." With your hand, you wiped away the tears that fell silently from his face.

You were not the most appropriate person to say those words to him since your tears were just about to come out too.

Ratio's tear-streaked gaze met yours as you wiped away his tears with your hand, a gesture of comfort, even though the situation demanded the opposite.

Your attempt to comfort him only intensified the conflict within him. He didn't feel worthy of your sweetness, your kindness. The guilt grew as he saw the pain reflected in your eyes.

"Please don't," he whispered, his voice strained.

You should despise him, hate him, resent him for what he did. You should feel disgusted when you touched his skin, that was touched by another person.

"Hate me."

You couldn't help but let out an anguished chuckle, the sound tinged with sadness and understanding.

"I could never," you whispered back in response, your voice barely audible yet filled with conviction. "I could never hate you."

Ratio's heart ached at your words. He wanted to resist, to push you away, to protect you from his flaws, his mistakes, but your resilience tugged at his innermost feelings.

He closed his eyes, his head lowering to rest upon your shoulder, his face hidden, the ring held tightly in his grip. The tears kept falling without control from his face.

Your eyes closed as he wept silently, his head resting on your shoulder. You wrapped your arms around him, offering a sense of refuge in your embrace.

The silence of the room was interrupted only by the gentle sound of rain against the window and Ratio's quiet sobs.

Your hand gently rose to the back of his head, your fingers gently tracing circles in his hair.

The act was an unconscious attempt to soothe him, to show your support despite everything. Your touch, despite the pain you felt, was like a soothing balm, a gesture of love and care.

"Shh," you whispered softly in between his sobs. "It'll be okay, it'll be okay."

Maybe this was what you needed. What they both needed at that moment.

Your soothing presence, the comforting embrace you held, your hand gently stroking his hair – it overwhelmed his senses, stirred a mix of emotions within him.

He wanted to hold you tighter, to beg you to stay with him, but the guilt and shame held him back. He felt undeserving of your comfort, his self-loathing eating at him from the inside.

You were too good for him.

"Stop it," he whispered, his voice strained with emotion. "Stop being so kind…"

You listened to his strained whisper, a hint of desperation in his voice, but you didn't stop stroking his hair.

"Why would I stop?" you replied, your voice soft yet firm. "Despite everything, you are still dear to me."

You leaned your head gently on his, your fingers continuing the soothing motion through his hair.

Just as a good tea ends, leaving a feeling of comfort, leaving a need to have another. You separated from him, knowing that it was time to end this.

"Ratio, listen to me…" You said, making his eyes focus on you and stop avoiding looking at you.

As if hypnotized by your request, his tear-filled eyes slowly found yours. Your voice, so soft yet firm, managed to capture his attention.

He held his gaze on you, his expression a mixture of guilt, longing. The intensity of his emotions was palpable, and the weight of unspoken words hung heavy in the air, pressing against his chest. He listened intently to your words, struggling to compose himself.

You were weak for a moment, but you really needed the touch of his skin against your skin. At least this last time.

You raised both hands to the height of his face, taking him lovingly between both.

"Please, take good care of yourself." You said soflty, as you gently rubbed his cheeks with your thumbs.

You felt your tears brush against your lips as you spoke.

Ratio's heart ached at your pleading words, your soft voice pleading. His gaze held you as if it were their last moment together. Your touch against his face, the last touch he would feel from you, burned his cheeks.

His chest ached, a lump formed in his throat, but he found the strength to reply.

"I…I will." he whispered back, his voice choked with emotion.

His fingers gripped your wrists, holding onto them tightly, a last attempt to stay with you a little longer.

"Good." You breathed out, feeling his fingers tighten around your wrists, trying to hold on to you.

Despite everything, you allowed yourself one last show of intimacy. Promising yourself that it would be the last.

You stood on your toes again, just a little. Getting close enough to his face to leave a soft, short kiss on his lips.

Ratio's breath caught in his throat. As your lips touched his, a mixture of surprise and longing washed over him. He felt your breath on his skin, making him shiver.

The feeling made his heart ache, his body yearned for more. He had missed the touch of your lips. It was a brief kiss, filled with a mix of love and sadness, a bittersweet moment that would be imprinted on his memory forever.

He closed his eyes, tears rolling down his cheeks, feeling as if time had frozen for a brief moment.

And then, just as quickly as it had happened, the touch disappeared.

As you pulled away, he found himself wanting to lean forward, to keep the moment from ending.

You took a deep breath, bracing yourself, and slowly, ever so gently, removed your hands from his face. Each finger, one by one, slipped away from his cheeks, your touch leaving a trail of longing.

Despite your face full of tears, you smiled at him.

As your hands slid away, Ratio's heart ached. He wanted to hold onto you, to pull you back and hold on to that moment.

The absence of your touch made his skin feel cold, as if a part of him had been torn away. As you smiled at him through tears, his chest seemed to tighten, his throat thick.

"Don't consume too many bitter things, give sweet things a second chance." You said, laughing a little as you wiped away your tears with the back of your hand. "Not excessively of course."

As you laughed softly, Ratio felt a mix of emotions stirring within him. He was aware of the irony in your words, knowing that you referred to his preference for bitter coffee.

You had always nagged at him for his love of bitter flavors, suggesting that he give sweet things a second chance.

A weak smile formed on Ratio's lips, a sad attempt to follow your playful tone.

"Just a second chance, hmm?" he replied, his voice low and pained.

He couldn't help but chuckle softly at your comment. The bittersweet humor in your message, the subtle reference to their past together, carried a bittersweet weight. The weight of memories shared, of a love that had suffered, but still burned brightly deep within them both.

Your heart felt heavy as you watched him smile weakly in response to your words. The guilt and pain were evident on his face, and the sight of him trying to hold back his own emotions only made your smile falter, tears still streaming down your cheeks.

"Yes, just a second chance." You repeated softly, forcing yourself to keep your voice steady.

His attempt at following your banter hurt you. It felt like a cruel reminder of how things used to be, how you both used to exchange playful remarks.

Silence descended upon the room again after a moment. Ratio's eyes focused on you, taking in your every feature, as if trying to memorize your face one last time.

The silent words of “I love you,” left your lips. Before taking two steps back.

As you stepped back, Ratio's eyes widened momentarily, his heart skipping a beat as you said those three silent words.

His mind was flooded with a mixture of emotions, the love and the guilt, the longing and the regret. He yearned to reach out to you, to hold onto you.

Yet his feet remained motionless, his body frozen in place.

But, despite that, he couldn't help but respond. "I love you too." The words came out silently.

In a way, his words brought comfort and happiness. Something you didn't know you were looking for.

You didn't just let out a soft smile, then you exhaled the air you had been unconsciously holding.

"By the way, there is no more sugar." You spoke to him for the last time, as if this had never happened, as if he had never found out anything to you, as if you were still the same loving young people as before.

Then you entered the guest room of the apartment. You would leave the next day, since due to the rain you would not be able to do it now. But you would make sure he didn't find out what time you left.

No more sugar.

Ratio's eyes widened slightly in surprise at your words. It was a lighthearted remark, a final gesture. His heart ached at the simple mention of something so trivial.

He let out a small chuckle, his mind racing.

It was a final, bittersweet moment, a reminder of the love they once shared and the bitter reality that now separated them.

As you retired to the guest room, Ratio stood in the room, his eyes fixed on the point where you had disappeared from view.

The silence was deafening, his heart full of conflicting emotions. The sound of the rain and the clock hanging on the wall were what mocked him. He wanted to hold onto you, to prolong this moment, but somehow… your sudden normalcy made him feel a little calmer.

He sought the longed-for consolation in the ring, grabbing it with both hands, as if it were his most precious possession.

Because it was. Now that was a most precious possession.

He left a soft kiss on the ring that belonged to you for years. Without following you. He would let you go if you were calmer and happier.

©cherrylovelycherry do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[holylulusworld]

Torn in two - Angstober 19

Summary: It should’ve been the happiest day of your life.

Pairing: Mobster!Steve Rogers x fem!Reader, Mobster!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader (platonic for now)

Warnings: heavy angst, Steve being the worst, cheating, lies, deception, sadness, arranged marriage, unrequited love

Square filled for @steverogersbingo 2023 (expired): E4: Unrequited

Square filled for @steverogersbingo 2024: D3: Crime/Mafia

Trope: angst

Kinktober vs Flufftober 2024

Should’ve. Could’ve. Would’ve. You never understood the meaning of the song until today. What a difference a day can make, huh?

Not hours ago, you twirled in your white wedding gown, giggling like a schoolgirl because you were about to marry the man you loved and adored for so long.

Everything seemed perfect. Your wedding gown. The ceremony. Your husband. For a moment, you believed you’d get your happily ever after.

That was, of course, until you discovered the truth behind his commitment. Not love and devotion but greed and power hunger were the reasons for his proposal.

One day earlier, after your wedding ceremony, …

You smile as Steve holds your hand tightly. Even though your marriage was arranged by your father, Steve promised you could make it work. You never doubted that your marriage would be anything but happy. For years, you have been hopelessly devoted to Steve, and your heart only ever belonged to him.

He was the one who needed time to confess his love to you. Your father doesn’t need to know that you would’ve married Steve, with or without his involvement.

“My love,” Steve whispers lowly, “we should welcome our guests at the party. How about you greet your friends? I’ll talk to Sam and James.”

You nod but hate that Steve lets go of your hand to walk toward his friends. Sighing, you look around the crowded room.

While you walk around the crowded room to greet your guests, chatting with them, Steve, Sam, and Bucky leave the room to talk in private.

You frown. Why would your groom leave his party to talk to his friends? He can speak to them any other day.

Curiosity is getting the best out of you. Before one of the guests can stop you from sneaking out of the ballroom too, you excuse yourself, lying about using the bathroom.

“You must be all over the moon." Bucky can’t hide the jealousy written all over his face. Steve Rogers, the golden boy, always seems to get the best in life. “You’ve got this pretty wife, and to spend a honeymoon with her on an exotic island.”

Steve huffs. “If only you knew.”

“What do you mean?” Sam furrows his brows. He believed his friend got his happily ever after, only for Steve to look like someone kicked him in the guts. “You do not look happy for a newlywed.”

“I’d look happier if my bride was Peggy, not that spoiled brat.”

Bucky cocks his head at Steve’s words. He didn’t expect his friend to talk like that about you. “What the fuck, Steve! You just married the woman. She’s sweet and pretty. I’d kill to get a wife like that!”

“Well then, take her,” Steve spats. “I never wanted to marry her.”

“Steve, are you drunk?” Bucky grabs Steve’s upper arms, shaking him lightly. “Because if you’re not, I gotta punch the stupidity out of you.”

“Her father wanted this bond, okay. If I want to take over his empire one day, I must give him an heir. I agreed. Y/N isn’t Peggy, but she will do. After her father retires, I can divorce her and marry someone else.”

Sam’s eyes widen. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. The business is not new to him, but hearing Steve talk so lowly about you makes him sick.

“I got to go.” Sam turns on his heels and storms off, not looking back.

“Punk, you can’t be serious." Bucky looks his friend in the eyes. “Please tell me you tried to be funny, and we can laugh about your not-funny joke.”

Unbeknownst to the friends, you stand a few feet away, clasping one hand over your mouth. Hot tears spill from your eyes as you try to fathom what you just witnessed.

You put a brave face on and hold your head high. This is your wedding, and you won’t let anyone see how torn your heart truly is.

After hearing the truth and crying for half an hour in the bathroom, you freshened up your makeup and decided not to give anyone in the ballroom the satisfaction of laughing about your predicament.

Even if you despise Steve now, you let him ask you for the first dance as husband and wife. You don’t look him in the eyes; instead, you look around the room, finding a similar pair of blue eyes.

Bucky watches your lips wobble, and a single tear run down your cheek. His stomach drops because he can see you trying so hard to not show the hurt.

“You look beautiful tonight,” Steve lies through his teeth. You can see it in his eyes when you look up at him. “I like the gown.”

“Sure,” you reply with venom in your voice. “How about you dance with Peggy next, because she will be the second Mrs. Rogers, won’t she?”

He looks like someone slapped him across the face, and for the first time since he broke your heart, you smile.

“What? Got nothing to say, Steve?” You huff. “Oh, I forgot. You discuss your betrayal only in private with your buddies.”

Dropping his hand, you step away from Steve and size him up before you leave the ballroom, excusing yourself.

Now, ...

Half of town was looking for you. After you ran from the party, you were nowhere to be seen for a day. I felt like the ground opened and swallowed you whole.

That night, you should have laid in Steve’s arms; instead, you were sitting at your old apartment, crying yourself to sleep because he didn’t even try to find you. You left your phone on, and he knew where you were living.

Steve simply didn’t care enough to look for his missing wife. Maybe he even spent the night with his former lover, Peggy Carter. The woman he wanted to marry instead of you.

You can’t blame him, though. Your father loves to make promises he doesn’t intend to keep. He promised to never use you as a pawn in his business. But here you are, sitting in your wedding gown, with messed-up makeup and a broken heart.

“Doll?” Bucky sighs because he finally found you. He didn’t believe you had come to your old apartment. It’s empty except for the old armchair Steve hated and didn’t want to keep. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same,” you reply.

“You heard—” Bucky bites his tongue when you sniffle. “Hey, I’m sorry. Maybe Steve didn’t mean it that way. He gets a little intense sometimes.”

“I don’t think so,” you snap at Bucky. “He said loud and clearly that he wants to marry Peggy Carter after he took over my father’s empire.”

You angrily wipe the tears off your cheeks. “There is nothing to get wrong, James. Steve hates me. He lied for months. He never loved me. He'll never love me. I thought—" You look at Bucky with tear-clouded eyes.“ I waited for him, James. All those years I waited for him to see me, and when he did, I was the happiest.

“Oh,” Bucky nods, understanding your feelings very well. He has been waiting for someone to require his feelings for years, too. Only for you to marry his best friend.

“I was a fool to believe Steve Rogers could ever love me.” You raise your hands and drop them again. “How could he? I’m nothing like Peggy. She was all a man could ever want.”

“Doll,” he steps closer to crouch down next to the old armchair you’re sitting in. “What are you going to do now?”

You dip your head to look at Bucky. “I’ll get my life back. My father, Steve, and everyone else in my life always told me what to do. It’s time to stand up for myself. Don’t you think?”

Tags in reblog.

[scimagic]

do you have any headcanon about mr puzzles dad/his and mr puzzles relationships?

BOY DO I!!!

Sit down let me take you on a sad sad journey about a sad sad man

Let me get this one right off the bat:

Puzzles is an only child of divorce

His parents took a shared custody when he was really young, leaving little Puzzles in a shaky unstable situation

The only good side to that is that he was able to go to amusement parks twice on his birthday

Hence, his love for amusement parks (practically his happiest memories)

It was a twice-a-year happening. Two whole days to have fun and ignore whatever the hell was happening with the adults!

Best of all it was all about him!! His birthday! His gifts! His big day! He loved seeing everyone in the park having fun just like him

But of course, when he told his dear old papa about his brilliant idea, he was shut down

That's when the problems began to brew a little more

His relationship with his father was always a strict one; Mr Dad was a strict man, straight to the point and harsh towards life

I imagine he was in some sort of white collar job, manager or administrator, some type of job that slowly kills your creativity and makes you a strict parent

So you can imagine the type of relationship a parent like that would have with his creatively-inclined son

I don't necessarily think he was a bad person, none of that physical abuse stuff. More like- raised his voice a lot, spoke in harsh tones and widely misunderstood his kid

Because of that, Puzzles began to dislike his father when he stayed with him, even if most of the time he was up in his room watching TV by that point

They never really saw eye to eye after that, Mr Dad kept trying to move his son away from creative fields and Puzzles just kept pushing against authority to pursue his dreams

By the time he grew up, he practically cut off all contact with his father

He's still angry and bitter that his old man never even gave him a chance to prove that he Does have creative vision and can make something truly great

And to rub it in his face and say "I told you so" and give him a big finger FHDJKSA

Even if his father doesn't see what Puzzles accomplished (for whatever reason), he would still be able to say he did it

Now that he's in prison though, now he regrets it even more because he never got to show how wrong his father was

The hate has been brewing, got spilled, and is still brewing

He's a very vengeful-driven man hfjkdsa

Sometimes the thought of his father being right crosses his mind but he tries to shut it down

However- the only thing that Puzzles wants more than to prove his father wrong, is to prove himself right

That's why he's a lil fucked up and is where he is right now <3

[cherubfae]

Hello! I love your writing, it's so cute! Here's an Idea bouncing around in my head: Reader is a shy and easily flustered individual who's developed a crush on Alastor. However they try to keep their distance as they know he's Aro/Ace and doesn't want to overstep boundaries. They go to Lucifer a (somewhat) expert on romance and feelings of longing to vent, also developing a crush on Lucifer- (Reader is a hopeless romantic lol)

Anyway, hope you have a nice day and remember to drink water!

𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔠𝔢 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 || {𝔞𝔩𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔯, 𝔩𝔲𝔠𝔦𝔣𝔢𝔯}

tags: gn!sinner!reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, love triangle, miscommunication, blood/injuries, mild nudity mention, divorced!Luci, I had to make it a bit comical, I made this too angsty for my own liking now I'm sad 😭, protective bois

This is a one shot. I won't be writing a part two. Thank you! :)

A dreamy sigh echoes from your lips, swirling down the empty hallway. You're sitting on your bed with your knees pulled to your chest with a clawed hand over your heart. Sometimes you miss the thrum of your heartbeat against your fingers. With all of the people occupying Hell, you didn't expect to feel quite this lonely.

You stare down at the pocket watch in your hands. Such a tiny device cost quite a fortune, but it was a true antique having been manufactured in the 1920s. Your intention was to give it to Alastor. Yet, you never did.

Despite everything in your being wanting you to give him the simple gift, a token of your love and your friendship, you just couldn't. You were already internally setting yourself up for a failure that may not even come. You weren't sure Alastor would ever be into someone, let alone you. So, allowing these thoughts to fester you withdrew yourself from him. Forcing smiles when around him and the others, faking laughter; all of which Alastor could see right through. Every time he tried to seek you out, to confront you, you were already engaged with someone else or another task for the hotel.

You were actively allowing your depression to swallow you whole all the whole not realizing that if you had only asked, Alastor's feelings are the same as yours. He just didn't know how to approach you and Rosie thought it best to let you come to him; yet you never did. Even Alastor was finding it a bit hard to keep that smile on his face. Why won't you just approach him? He...He can't do it. Please.

A dreary day in Hell with violent lightning and thunderclouds and acidic rain brought you into the company of Lucifer Morningstar himself. He could smell your sadness from miles away and like clockwork, he instantly pulls you under his wings.

"Now then, sweetling, what brings you to see the Big Boss Man Himself?" Lucifer grins, crossing his leg over his knee nursing an apple martini with an apple slice hanging off the sugar-dusted edge. He serves you whatever drink you may like, alcoholic or non-alcoholic.

"I'm in love with Alastor and I don't know what to do! I'm scared to get too close to him because I'm not even sure he's into me like that and I don't want to get hurt!" You sob, the words come pooling out of your mouth like a waterfall and so do the tears.

Lucifer visibly bristles at the mention of his rival, almost choking on his drink. With a snap of his fingers, his martini glass vanishes with a poof! His full attention now on you. Gently, he takes your hand in his gloved one.

Softly, he begins. "Getting hurt is unfortunately part of the risk of being in love. It lets you know what you feel is or was real. It's not the end of the world, not by a long shot. Everyone who we meet and who we love crosses our paths for a reason. To teach us something, either for a short chapter or they'll be lifelong companions. Even in the afterlife, there are still people worth risking the hurt for." Smiling wobbly, Lucifer embraces you close. "Take a few deep breaths. If this is truly how you feel, talk to him about it. We may be magic down here in Hell but not all of us are mind-readers, darlin'."

For the first time in a long while, you smile too. Embracing him again with a laugh.

Standing to leave, you turn to your friend. "May I see you again?"

Lucifer let out a tiny gasp, a slight pink hue coating his cheeks. "I'd like that a lot!" He jumps up. "I can show you how to paint rubber ducks!"

When you finally return from your outing, you're in a much more visibly happy mood. With eyebrows raised, Alastor watches from the shadows as you whistle a happy little tune and make your way up the stairs and veer to the left towards your bedroom. A familiar scent clings to your own, one that makes his lips curl back in a vicious snarl. Lucifer.

"Now darling, I think it's time that we have a talk--" Alastor materializes from the shadows, fully manifesting into your bedroom. You shriek in surprise.

Immediately, you snap. "Alastor, what the fuck! OUT."

Alastor, who has been turned away from you, spins to face you aghast that you'd speak to him in such a manner as you never have before, only to quickly cover his eyes. You were standing in the privacy of your bedroom, almost entirely naked except for those flimsy bottoms you called your underwear. Alastor swallows thickly at the sight of your bare skin, even when you wrap your blanket around your body. He feels lightheaded.

"My apologies, dearest. Ta-ta!" In a plume of smoke, Alastor fades out of the room. By the time he returns to his radio tower, he's gasping with his palm covering his face which was now nearly as red as his hair. He's ashamed he hadn't shown more decorum and instead witnessed you in such a state. Even when angry with him, you had never looked more alluring.

Lucifer swung by the hotel rather unexpectedly, surprising Charlie with a new plant for her bedroom and crushing Maggie into a huge hug! The place was really coming along, he had to admit. There was a more inviting atmosphere to the hotel now since it was rebuilt. It almost felt cozy.

"Dad, what brings you by?" Charlie smiles, carefully handing the plant over to Vaggie.

Lucifer smiles. "I'm here to pick up a friend for a little coffee date and I figured I'd say hi to my favorite daughter and my favorite soon-to-be daughter-in-law!" He coos, squishing Charlie's cheeks between his gloved hands.

On queue, you're walking down the stairs into the foyer. "Lucifer!" You beam, a large smile crossing your cheeks. His tummy flutters at the sight. The outfit you had on was darling, suiting you to a T.

A crackle of static explodes into the front lobby, the Radio Demon taking form between you and the Morningstars. Alastor's eyes immediately narrowing at the unwelcomed guest, at least in his mind.

Laughing nervously, Charlie wedges herself between her father and friend. The air rippled with electricity as the two stared the other down.

"Okay, you two, calm down. Let's not start anything, ok?" She glances at Vaggie for help who simply shrugs her shoulders; setting Charlie's new plant baby aside. Approaching slowly you stand by Lucifer's side. Placing a hand on the King's shoulder, Alastor nearly explodes with radio feedback. An eerie green glow consuming his form.

Static voice dripping with malice spits out, "You're going out with him." It wasn't a question.

Casting a look over your shoulder, you nod at Alastor. "We're going out for coffee."

The Radio Demon is practically seething with venomous rage--not at you, but at the puny little shortstack of a King who thinks he can meddle with those in his life. "You don't deserve their attention, Morningstar."

Lucifer balks. "You had your chance, pal! You snooze, you lose." Alastor's expression turns to one of confusion.

"What do you mean?" The radio filter is gone from his voice.

Snarling, Lucifer glowers at him. "They were in love with you! And now I'm here to pick up the pieces-- oh, fuck, you didn't tell him did you, sweetling?" His gaze is gentle as he regards you. You're begging for the ground to swallow you up.

Fighting back tears, you fidget on the spot. You're looking everywhere but at the two men who have held your heart captive. There was the love you held for Alastor, pure and genuine. How you got together like pieces of a puzzle. And then there was your love for Lucifer, intimate and loving. He was able to teach a part of you that you'd long forgotten. He helped you smile again.

Alastor shoves Lucifer out of the way, his clawed hands cupping your face. He wipes away those tiny tears with a gentleness no one in the hotel had seen. "Je t'aime tellement, mon cour."

Lucifer, now in his Full Demon form, shoves Alastor aside and grasps your arm. You let out a cry of pain, making the two males jump. With the appearance of his full form his claws had accidentally sunk too deep into your skin. Red leaked from the four deep gashes slashed across your skin, staining the sleeve of your lovely shirt. Your pretty eyes pooling with tears.

Like a true beast, Alastor explodes into his demonic form, arms outstretched to shield you behind him. Lucifer can only fixate on the blood dripping down your arm. Vaggie and Charlie are tugging you away while Husk prepares the First-Aid kit.

Lucifer is only able to stare at the tiny pool of blood you had left behind and the pain in his eyes. And then there was Alastor, ever the gentleman, always the one fighting for your honor, looking damn well ready to devour the entire fucking Earth for you.

And Lucifer felt he deserved whatever he had coming to him. His own words echo in his head: "Getting hurt is unfortunately part of the risk of being in love. It lets you know what you feel is or was real."

|| ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ, ʀᴇᴜꜱᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴇᴅɪᴛ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ɪɴ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴀʏ! ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪꜱꜱɪᴏɴ. ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ꜱɪᴛᴇ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ɪ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ. ᴀʟʟ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜰᴜʟ ᴏᴡɴᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ © ᴄʜᴇʀᴜʙꜰᴀᴇ 2024 ||

[glossykissies]

was thinking about how soldier boy would work in a universe with no supes… n it got me thinking about divorcedneighbour!ben and hotyoungerneighbour!reader … ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ ౨ৎ

he moves into the house next door and he’s soooo tough and mean and scary, always drinking beer, smoking cigars, working out n keeping to himself… you find out he’s ex military and recently divorced his wife because people in your town talk and you can find out anything about anyone !!

you’re a sweetheart and can’t imagine how sad he must be on the inside so you’re constantly knocking on his door in your tiny little skirts just offering anything you can… extra cookies you baked, you offer to wash his car, you even hand him a set of keys and tell him to just go ahead and let himself in if he ever needs anything. the brooding man doesn’t say much, just sort of looks you over and tells you “not a good idea to just hand your spare key over to random men.” but you trust him so what’s the big deal !! <3

he’s bored one day and takes up your relentless offer to wash his car, thinking you’ll just give it a rinse over with the hose — but no, of course you’re out on the lawn in the tiniest bikini, suds rolling down your body sponging his truck down like something out of a playboy magazine from when he was younger. of course he sits out on his deck and watches with a beer, would be rude not to — and plus he doesn’t really give a fuck about the disapproving looks from the passers by. who were these people to stop him from enjoying a perfectly good show?

he’s trying to do right by you, kind of. he remembers being in his 20s just like you, being young and horny and always pushing his luck. now he gets to watch your desperate attempts through a frown and thick crossed arms— surprised by how relentless you could be.

[mustangbby]

-> the house won't ever feel the same again

synopsis -> you and alhaitham got into a relationship-damaging fight.

w/c -> 1.3k

warnings -> hurt no comfort, alhaitham is an asshole in this, dehya is your emotional support lol, reader moves to liyue, arguing and insults, reader is an artist

“alhaitham, please stop stressing. you cannot write twenty papers in the span of three hours. come to bed with me, dear.” 

you knew that this would happen. dating the acting grand sage of sumeru would be no easy feat. and now here he was, slumped over his desk, gripping an abnormally large mug of coffee. you telling him to stop was making the grip even harder. you noticed, and took a deep breath in.

“you know, getting angry is not going to get you anywhere. please, take my advice, and do not overwork yourself tonight.”

“can you not?” he snapped. “let me do my work.” 

this took you off guard for a second. he’s never said something like this to you before- even in your wedding vows, he promised he wouldn’t ever insult you, show major aggression to you, or put his hands on you. ever. 

“i’m simply just trying to help, dearest, please take my advice-” you stopped yourself, seeing his expression. he just rolled his eyes at you, bringing himself back into his work. you’ve never seen your husband do that, he’s always at least taken your words into regards. you try once more. “alhaitham, come to bed-” 

“can’t you tell i’m trying to do work? leave me the hell alone!” he slammed his hands on the table, making you jump back a little bit. tears were coming to your eyes, but you tried to control them. 

“what is with the sudden aggression? you have never done this before!” you raised your voice slightly to try and counter his words, trying to make yourself appear bigger than you felt you were. 

“you’re trying to interrupt me as i work. i will not tolerate it. you can wait. stop caring so much, would you?” he sighs, putting his face in his hands, running his hands up and down his head and ruffling his own hair. “leave me alone. how many times do i have to make myself clear? or is it not clear enough? are you just that stupid?” 

that sentence made you freeze. he did not at all look like he was going to take that back. you nodded and started to walk out the door before he grabbed your shoulder. you stopped once again, thinking this was him apologizing, but you turned around to find a very angry man. 

“and by the way, i’d never do that for you. that’s irritating, and your artwork isn’t worth caring for anyways. go.” 

and there was the start of many tears. you ran out in fear and sadness, wondering what ever got into him to lash out like that. you knew he could be extreme and give out major criticism, but he was never this harsh to you. you looked down at the band on your ring finger, spinning it around a few times. the good memories, your honeymoon, your wedding, and the proposal all came flooding through your mind. it made you cry even harder than you already were, if that's even possible. you slid the ring off and threw it on your nightstand of your shared home, and then was sure to make a point of moving it to his. so he could see the damage he’s caused. you packed a tiny bag and left for the night to go to your friend dehyas place. you knew she’d have some good advice for you.

after a short trek to see her, you knocked on her door, soaked from the rain. she welcomed you in with an impressively strong pat on the back, immediately noticing your puffy eyes and noticing the ring wasn’t where it was normally. 

“what happened to that ring that alhaitham married ya with? did divorce knock on your door?” she sighed. “i knew that’d happen, damned man.”

that sentence made you cry again. she immediately corrected her wrongdoings and pulled you into a strong embrace, stroking your hair. 

“alright, tell me what's the matter.”

“he raised his voice at me… he’s never done that before, dehya!!” you cried harder into her arms, and you could hear her sigh.

“that man, oh did he make a mistake. what are you going to do?” she asked, looking down at you without stopping her motions.

“i’m not sure.. i love him… but i don’t think he loves me..” you sniffled, hugging dehya even tighter now. she nodded, looking down at you in sorrow. she wishes on every star there was something she could do to make you feel better. 

“maybe you should try to talk to him. i know that’s probably not gonna do too much, but i guess it’s worth the effort…”

“but i tried that already, dehya! trust me, i tried to talk to him. and then he ever so rudely kicked me out like i was a colleague that was sent from the fortress of meropide in fontaine! worthless!” you groaned, letting your head fall dramatically on dehyas lap. 

“maybe you have to let him approach you first. give it time, it’ll probably happen.”

you thought long and hard about that night. it’s been two days since your argument, over what exactly? just because you didn’t want him to fail at his job? his papers don’t even have a near due date! if even one at all!! you sat against your bed, lightly scratching the ground with your nails. it seems alhaitham took the ring he gave you, and went back to work the next day. he probably isn’t even thinking about what happened, or so you thought.

considering, the night you got back from dehyas, you were welcomed home to him sipping on some tea, watching the television. probably some documentary about the history of the aranara. you said a slight hey, and he just looked at you, immediately making your heart sink. you sighed and walked away to the spare bedroom. the worst part was that he just let you. he didn’t seem like he cared, or willing to take back all of the insults he threw at you that night. it seemed like that night was the only thing you could think about. 

though, he feels super remorseful about the things he did and said that night. he hasn’t been able to properly focus, being logical enough to know that those words are something you’ll likely never bounce back from. you’ve already broken a paintbrush you’ve had, scratching a rip into a painting you spent hours on. he saw that when he came back home that night, gasping slightly. and that’s when the reality hit him. 

he’s currently slouching over his desk, doing something he’d never even fathom doing in a million years- doodling on his papers. he couldn’t focus, he felt he needed to make it up to you. but he’d only ignore you whenever you tried to take dehyas advice and maybe talk through it with him. he doesn’t know why he ignored you, he just thought he couldn’t talk to you properly in the moment. 

little did he know you were packing your suitcases to move into a small apartment you purchased with a fair amount of mora in the middle of liyue harbor. you told dehya about your plan, also letting her know to wait on letting alhaitham know about your plan. you were too hurt by his words, and you knew you could never be able to sleep in the same bed, nevertheless see the man anymore. you knew you were gonna be gone by dark tonight, which is plenty time before he’d get home. once you’ve packed the last of your things, you set off, taking a carriage to the chasm before being escorted by yelan herself to the harbor, tipping her a fair amount of mora for her kindness. you immediately felt more refreshed, in a new place, away from the man you’ve never known would be as toxic as he appeared to be.

[ourflagmeansgayrights]

wait fuck ok i’m back to being sad about it now

like the thing is that ed doesn’t really hang out with anyone but stede in season one, not really. and whenever he is talking to other ppl on the crew, stede is right there. the only exception to this is in episode 8 when jack brings the party energy and everyone is getting drunk and rowdy together specifically as part of jack’s efforts to exclude stede.

and as a fandom we always make jokes and theorize about what the relationship between ed and stede must look like from the outside, if they were all placing bets for when they’d finally hook up or if they had zero belief in stede’s ability to pull THEE blackbeard

but now i’m thinking about the crew’s perception of Ed Himself. of the crew’s perceptions of The Legendary Blackbeard and how that must’ve changed over the course of the first season. because when they first meet him they’re all impressed and starstruck bc yeah, duh, this is Pirate Beyoncé we’re talking about. they’re also in varying degrees “worried he’s gonna kill them.”

but they quickly see that the real pirate beyonce isn’t all leather and murder and head made of smoke. blackbeard swaps clothes with their cringefail (derogatory) boss for fun. he dresses up and goes to a fancy party just because he wants to—he’s not even trying to get anything out of it, doesn’t have an angle the way frenchie does, he genuinely just wants to go to a very un-Blackbeardy party and have fun. he tells them scary stories. he shows them some of his trade blackbeard secrets. he hypes them all up after their first fuckery (and i will never get over how cute that is exchange is, “scared the pants off me” and “i thought blackbeard didn’t feel fear” and “and i didn’t, until tonight” and the crew’s genuine excitement and pride). he goes on a treasure hunt with their cringefail (affectionate, now) boss and lets him dig in the ground to get it out of his system. they learn that ed isn’t just a scary pirate, he also can be silly and goof off and enjoy things that aren’t exactly compatible’s with the Blackbeard Brand

and beyond just not adhering 24/7 to the Brand, they learn that ed—that blackbeard—is human. is fallible. they see his first plan to escape the spanish fail, and they get to participate in the backup plan that he and stede come up with. frenchie sees ed get hurt at the fancy party in a way that he completely understands. lucius realizes that ed is just as into his cringefail boss as his cringefail boss is into ed, and over the course of giving ed a shovel talk he maybe learns that The Legendary Blackbeard might actually be nervous about a boy liking him back.

and none of this—NONE of this—makes the crew lose any respect for him. even pete never has a moment where his perception of his idol is shattered, where he’s disappointed that blackbeard isn’t all nine guns and zero mercy all the time. instead, pete expands his idea of what The Ideal Pirate (the ideal MAN) looks like.

i think by the time jack rolls around, ed is no longer on that Pirate Beyoncé pedestal to them. he’s still on a pedestal, a bit, but instead of seeing ed as this untouchable badass legend, they see him as like. the coolest guy on the ship. still a badass, still somebody they all respect and admire, but someone they can hang out with. someone they really want to hang out with. they want to impress ed because they want him to like them, they want to be his friend. and yeah, it’s played as a “your father and i are getting a divorce but we still love you very much” joke, but they really are so sad when ed leaves with jack.

and ed showing up with no beard and no stede, ed hiding in his cabin for. a day? multiple days? ed singing a song about his feelings. ed saying he no longer wants to go by blackbeard.

the crew is confused, but they’re on board. they don’t laugh at him for his (bad) singing, they don’t think less of him now that he’s sans iconic beard. ed, to them, is still The Coolest Guy On The Ship, and they want to be his friend. they’re excited to be his friend.

they want to put on a talent show.

and ed, right after getting stabbed in the back by jack and izzy, and then stede, and then izzy again—ed, who was so affected by the jeers of the rich fuckers at that fancy party, who grew up in a culture that doesn’t allow for friendship, a culture of everyone in various stages of fucking each other over—can’t see that. he’s got fresh heartbreak and fresh betrayal that are compounding on years of trauma and he hears them all chanting his name and he can’t trust this crew. he couldn’t trust his first mate, and he couldn’t trust his old shipmate, and he couldn’t trust stede. he cannot, cannot risk vulnerability with the crew. not again.

(and like, cmon, who is ed even kidding? he’s not made for things like softness and friendship and genuine camaraderie. trying to be anything other than blackbeard is like a wolf trying to fit in a sheep’s clothing, but the clothing is too small and everyone can see right through him and they’re all laughing and laughing and he’s the only one who can’t see what a joke he is. ed’s not an idiot, he knows there’s no way the crew is up their chanting his name and asking for another song because they like him. they just want the great clown pagliacci to come out and make them laugh.

so sure, ed’ll give them a show. they think ed’s funny? well he’s about to be fucking hilarious.)

EDIT: those of y’all seeing this in the ofmd tags are missing the additions where it gets even sadder