#I got shit to do in the morning so I hope to wake up somebody else tomorrow | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sunshinevanfleet · 1 year

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use somebody - j. kiszka

pairing: jake x reader

a/n: hi there everyone! this one is for u @goldlionsilversun for inspiring me to write this<3 it is loosely based on the song 'use somebody' by kings of leon, so give that a listen if you so desire. i hope everyone enjoys. pls let me know ur thoughts. ok love u bye

genre: smut (18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT), angst

word count: 3.7k

summary: jake vents his frustrations to the reader. some truths come out.

warnings: alcohol consumption, oral (m receiving), spanking, unprotected sex, angst, explicit sex scenes, etc.

“Rock ‘n roll’s not always sunshine and rainbows, you know.” A small, bratty smile played on Jake’s lips as he lifted the beer bottle to his lips. He looked at you out of the corner of his eye as he drank, his eyes taking in your expression.

“What makes you say that?” You lifted an eyebrow at him curiously. He kicked back in his chair, bare feet propped on the little ottoman in front of him. His figure looked strangely out of place in your hotel room, so relaxed in the foreign place. His shirt was completely unbuttoned, ripped apart in your heated struggle against one another only minutes before; it was strange how quickly the two of you went from fondling each other to an existential discussion.

He emptied his drink, tossing the bottle easily into the trash bin in the corner. He folded his arms behind his head. His glassy eyes bored into you intensely; you squirmed a bit in your own seat across from him.

“So many things…” he sighed heavily. The heavy expression on his face made him look suddenly older; he looked as if he were carrying a heavy weight on his shoulders.

“It can’t be too bad,” you said, trying to lighten the mood. “Waking up in a new city every morning. Meeting new people. Having thousands of people screaming your name.” You smiled cheekily.

The corner of his lips turned up, but he shook his head. “Who gives a shit how many people are screaming your name, if you don’t have anyone just saying it?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean– picture this…” He splayed his hands out in front of him, as if lifting a poster into the air. “You’ve got all of these people who think they know you… They think they love you. They care about you in some parasocial way, of course, but…” he sighed again. “You’ve got no one there who actually knows you. Who actually cares about you.”

You frowned. “Jake, I’m sure there are plenty of people who actually care about you.”

He laughed. It was a humorless sound, almost bitter.

“That’s not what I mean, Y/N.”

You weren’t sure exactly what he meant.

“The sex is fine,” he said, continuing on in his explanation.

“Just fine?”

“Just fine,” he said, voice almost bored. “Got about a dozen girls to keep my bed warm, sure, but what’s any of that good for?”

An amused smile graced your lips. You were too drunk to be having this discussion, and so was he. The whole thing was all over the place. You came up here just to be another one of those dozen girls, as you had time and time again. But sometimes you got your angsty Jake; every now and then, you were his escape. His person to vent to.

“Yet you keep coming back,” you said softly. He looked at you as if you had grown another head. He hated when you made sense, when you made him realize he had a part in all of his own problems. Whose fault was it that he kept fucking a different girl in every city?

“What?”

“You keep hooking up with random girls, instead of settling down. That’s what you’re getting at, right? You want someone who sees you… You want someone who’s yours.”

“Sure,” he said, still not following.

“But you don’t let yourself have it.”

“You’re saying this is my fault.”

“I’m saying you have a part in it, Jake,” you said reasonably. “You put all these walls up, all of these protections. The only time you’re vulnerable is when you’re drunk.”

“That’s not true,” he said. He almost sounded hurt.

“Well, that’s the only time you’re vulnerable with me. Of course, I wouldn’t know anything about your everyday life. You only call me when you want some ass.”

“That’s not true, either.”

He was looking hurt, now. His eyes softened, but you could see how hard he clenched his jaw. One of his hands picked at the frayed upholstery of the chair, his finger finding a string and twisting it roughly around his finger.

“I dunno,” you said, with a little more empathy, “it sometimes feels that way to me, at least. I never see you outside of these shitty hotel rooms.”

It was true; your only in-person meetings were hookups in stuffy hotel rooms, his dressing room, and the tour bus occasionally. You knew he was closer to you than most of the other girls he was sleeping with. The two of you could almost be considered good friends. You texted often, if not every day, and facetimed once or twice a week. But you had never been together outside of fucking each other once or twice every blue moon, when you ended up in the same city at the same time.

“I still talk to you outside of these places,” he said, voice weak. “It’s not like– like with the others. I can actually talk to you.”

“Okay,” you said, regretting your previous words. “That was harsh, I’ll admit it… But I’d still like to see you outside of these four walls.”

Jake nodded. “Yeah, me too.”

The two of you were quiet. He stared out of the sliding glass door, out onto the balcony. You stared at him. Seeing him looking so torn apart made your stomach do a turn. His glossy eyes watched a plane passing by, miles and miles away, lights flickering in the darkness. You couldn’t tell if his eyes were wet from the drinks or because he was upset. You fidgeted with one of your rings, worried.

“I need a minute,” Jake breathed after a moment. He pushed out of the chair and ambled out onto the balcony, leaving the door cracked behind him. You pulled your bare feet up into your own chair, tucking them beneath you. Outside, Jake leaned over the balcony railing, breathing in the night. You recognized that he was probably feeling trapped by your presence, but still you wanted to go out there to him. Snake your arms around his waist and press your face into his back. You wanted to be skin-to-skin with him, breathing in the scent of his skin mixed with the cheap beer he had been drinking.

Several long, dragging minutes passed. You wondered if you should just leave, even though it was your hotel room. Being by yourself began to feel like the only option; when Jake got into one of his moods, it was very hard to drag him out. You didn’t want to leave him, but he was the type to close-off and run if you pushed him too far. Even worse, there was the possibility that he would storm off and find another girl to blow off his steam with. That was almost too much to handle.

He was able to breathe for almost ten minutes before you couldn’t take the aching silence anymore. You padded over to the glass door, and joined him outside. Without a word, you shuffled up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. You rested your cheek against his back, smelling the leftover cologne and tangy scent of his sweat mingling on the fabric of his shirt.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled quietly. Your voice was barely audible over the sound of the busy streets below; it was early enough for people to still be out bar-hopping and being too loud in public. Even several stories up, Friday nights were always loud in the city after hours. “I didn’t mean to sound like an asshole back there.”

“‘S okay,” Jake said, though it didn’t sound like it was. “Just been having a hard time lately. I know it sounds cliche, but nobody understands.”

“No,” you agreed. “I guess I can’t understand what’s going through that pretty little head of yours.”

He chuckled lightly at your words.

“But I can listen, and I can be here for you. If you want me to, that is.”

With a deep breath, you felt him relax slightly under your touch. He wriggled in your arms, spinning around to face you. Leaning back against the railing, he was silhouetted by the shining red lights from the dive bar across the street. The air seemed to glow around him, enhancing his soft features and making him look even more upset. You reached for him, one of your hands pressing delicately against the side of his face. Tracing your thumb over his cheek, down to the corner of his lips, you pressed closer to him. He was beautiful, in a broken sort of way.

“You just gonna stare at me all night?”

You smiled. “God, I’m trying to have a moment here with you, Jake.”

His lips turned up, though it didn’t completely meet his eyes. “I’d like to have more than a moment with you, my dear,” he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. He leaned into you, his nose brushing yours as he hovered less than an inch away. His warm breath tickled your lips and cheeks as he eyed you.

“Guess it’s your turn to stare at me, then, huh?”

Your snarky reply was cut off by him pressing his mouth against yours. The kiss was slow, but there was an undertone of desperation to it. His lips were soft, like rose petals, pressing against yours firmly. He hooked one finger under your chin, lifting your face closer to his, opening you up for him. You clutched at the fabric of his shirt, bunching it in your hand as you tried your best to pull him even closer. The two of you stumbled drunkenly, pressing him back against the railing. Your skin was burning against his, you dressed in only your bra and his shirt halfway off.

One of your hands slipped beneath the thin fabric of his shirt, pushing it off of his shoulders. He surrendered to you for a moment, taking his hands off of you for one second to shrug the fabric off before he was all over you again. One hand found the back of your neck and the other tangled roughly in your hair; you moaned against his lips–this was your Jake, fiery and burning against you. You clutched at his shoulder with one hand, while your other hand snaked between your bodies. Your fingers found the waistband of his jeans, undoing the button with practiced ease. Teasingly, you dragged your fingertips over the clothed form of his bulge, already straining against his pants.

He sighed against you, hips twitching imperceptibly. Your lips parted for half a second, both of you catching your breath before diving back in. At this, your hand pushed beyond the fabric of his jeans and underwear, finding his throbbing length.

He hissed then, feeling your fingertips touching him, whispering against the skin. You touched him just enough for him to feel it, your thumb ghosting over him to spread out the moisture from his leaking tip. You swallowed his moan with a smile, pleased that you had this effect on him. A second later, you pushed him back, pulling your raw lips away from him.

“What are you doing?” he asked impatiently, watching as you carefully peeled his pants down, exposing his cock to the cool night air.

“Seems like you need some special attention, Jakey.” You dropped to your knees without a second thought. You gazed up at him through your lashes as you tied your hair back from your face. The view of him from this angle was salacious, his hair slicked down on his forehead, eyes hooded as he watched you expectantly. A nasty little grin played on your lips as you finally leaned into him, gathering saliva in your mouth and licking a long, slow stripe up the underside of his cock. As you reached the tip, you gently parted your lips around him, swirling your tongue tenderly around the tip.

Jake groaned, a low, gravelly sound that sent a jolt down your spine and straight to your core. You couldn’t wait for him to lose his patience; you loved teasing him to the point of no return, loved getting him so worked up that he’d fuck you until the muscles in your legs seized up and you couldn’t walk. You drooled around his cock at the thought, ever so slowly bobbing your head and suckling softly. You couldn’t give him too much– you had to keep him just on the edge of toe-curling pleasure until he couldn’t take it anymore.

“God, fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, throwing his head back.

You hollowed your cheeks around him, speeding up your movements for a second before slowing down again, and repeating your ministrations over and over. You used one of your hands to hold his hips back against the balcony railing, while the other joined your mouth on his cock. Your movements had increased from slow and sensual to almost aggressive, thrusting him quickly towards his climax. As you flicked your tongue against the vein at the base of his cock, you could feel his thighs trembling slightly. Little whimpered moans and breathy pants of your name poured from his lips; he was so pretty standing there above you, unable to look you in the eyes as you took care of him. You adored the way he gazed down at you, almost hypnotized, then looked away as he became bashful at the sounds he was letting out.

Trying to ignore the needy throbbing between your own legs, you pushed yourself to the limit. Tears filled your eyes as you took him completely to the base, the head of his cock brushing the back of your throat as you moaned around him. He moaned sharply, one of his hands tangling into your hair once again.

“Ah, Y/N, enough,” he hissed, pulling against the strands of your hair. You groaned in protest around him, still swirling your tongue with determination. Another pointed moan left his lips, but he still was pulling you away. “I said enough,” he growled, voice tinged with frustration. He dragged you up to your feet, one hand in your hair and the other gripping your arm.

You stared at him, wide-eyed with an excited sort of fear. Licking your lips, you looked at him with those doe eyes and waited for his next move.

“Feeling like a dirty girl tonight, huh?” The hand that was wrapped around your arm moved to circle around your throat. Your heart thrummed excitedly at the feeling of his calloused fingers pressing into the delicate, unmarked skin of your neck. He squeezed, perhaps harder than intended, and you winced as he pressed his lips to yours. A breathy sigh left your lips, the pain deliciously blooming beneath his fingers. You were dripping at the thought of what was coming next: Jake dragging you back into the room to drill you into the mattress.

But you were wrong.

“Think you need to be punished, my dirty girl,” he muttered as he pulled out of the kiss. “When I tell you to do something, you do it. You understand?”

“Hmm, yes, sir,” you responded. A mischievous glint flickered in your eyes; he knew you loved it when he treated you like a disobedient little brat.

“That’s right, baby,” he said, tracing his touch over the finger-shaped bruises blooming on your neck. He pulled your hair sharply, exposing your throat to him fully. He trailed his mouth down your jawline, marking the skin with his teeth before finding your neck and sucking a few marks into the skin. You writhed in his grip, desperate for him to get his hands on the rest of you. At this rate, you were going to orgasm from the gravelly sound of his voice egging you on.

“Take these off,” he hooked one finger into the waistband of your pants and snapped the waistband against your skin. You bit your lip; it crossed your mind to disobey him again, to see just how worked up you could get him, but you caught the look in his eyes and knew he wasn’t in a joking mood tonight. He was going to ruin you. You removed the pants, goosebumps prickling your burning skin as the cool night air surrounded you.

His eyes drank you in for a moment, dragging over the curves and valleys of your body hungrily. He bit his lip, taking a deep breath before he reached for you again. He directed you towards the balcony railing, pushing you against it. He placed one hand in the center of your back and pushed down, bending you over the cool metal. You hissed as it bit into your skin, but the pain was nothing in comparison to his burning touch. His other hand traced a path down your spine, over the curve of your ass, and found its way in between your legs. You were soaked clean through your panties, even your thighs were sticking together, slick with your arousal. Jake groaned throatily at the sight.

“You’re a fucking mess for me, baby,” he said, a dark chuckle tumbling from his lips.

“Only for you,” you said, voice shaky. Your legs were weak already; he practically had you on your tip-toes, chest pushed over the side of the railing; his body pressing you against the metal was the only thing keeping you grounded. The thrill of it all was only making you more needy for him.

There was a smile in his tone as he spoke again, “Look at you, baby, being all sweet for me now.” His palm traced up your soaked slit and found your ass, rubbing lovingly against the skin. “Oh, it’s just too bad I’m gonna have to mark this pretty little ass up…”

You gasped at his words, the hand quickly following his sentence with a sharp slap against your ass. You bit your lip to keep from crying out, your brows pulled together at the delightful pain spreading over your skin. Your core was throbbing desperately at this point, clenching around nothing. You needed him so badly you thought you might scream.

“Jake, please,” you breathed, unable to even form a proper sentence.

“Please, what?” he asked, voice curious.

“Just please, please do something,” you whined.

He laughed again. “I am doing something sweetheart…”

You groaned. At that, there was another ringing slap and burning pain blooming over the same spot. You knew you were going to be sore tomorrow, his handprint stained into your skin like a red and purple mosaic underneath your clothes. The sweet torture of his hand landing blows against you came again, and again as you begged him for mercy. By the end of it all, you were trembling so badly and aching between your legs so much that you were practically on the edge. As soon as he touched you, you thought you were going to explode.

Your dear Jake wasted no time.

“Ready for me, sweet baby? Ready for me to finish torturing your aching little pussy?” His words dripped with pure lust, hot and breathy in your ear. The spanking had done as much for him as it had for you, and that fact made things even worse. You squirmed wildly as he finally pressed against you, swollen tip finding your entrance with ease.

“Fuck me, please Jake,” you cried out. Your hands shook as you gripped the metal railing pressed into your stomach. There would be another mark for you to worry about in the morning, but you didn’t care. Jake bottomed out inside of you and an obscene noise tore from your lips, luckily still drowned out by the sound of the city below.

Sweat poured down your face as you grew dizzy at the feeling of his hips slamming into you. You could barely see, your vision swimming as your orgasm approached at the speed of light. Your knees had collapsed minutes ago, but Jake and the railing held you in place as he drilled into you. The pair of you were soaked through with your arousal, filthy wet noises joining the chorus of both of your moans and whines as he fucked you ruthlessly.

“Y/N, I need you to cum,” Jake breathed, pressing his forehead against your back. His lips found the skin of your shoulder, kissing you gently. The feeling drove you crazy, how gentle he was being despite his unwavering pace fucking into you. “I need you to cum, baby, I’m not gonna last much longer.” His breath fanned over your back.

He needn’t tell you twice. With a few more hard thrusts, his cock had you flying into your climax. You cried out his name, eyes squeezed shut so tightly that a thousand colors bloomed behind your eyelids. He rode you through your orgasm, hips growing shaky as he tried his hardest to hold his own off. You came down, still clenching around him, and he forced himself to pull out of you. His release painted the skin of your back, warm against your cooling skin. You breathed deeply as you pushed away from the balcony railing. The ache was finally beginning to settle into your body; you were sore all over.

Jake buttoned his pants back up, and retrieved his shirt from the floor so you could wear it. You hobbled clumsily back into the hotel room, letting him close the door behind the two of you.

“I’ll get you a rag,” he said gently, as you flopped face-down onto the bed. He returned from the bathroom, unhooking your bra and using the rag to wipe all his cum off of your skin. As he stood, one of his hands gently rubbed over the raw skin of your bare ass. You winced. “Sorry, baby.”

“‘S okay,” you muttered, voice weak. You were exhausted. He returned again, patiently dressing you in his shirt and buttoning it halfway. You muttered a garbled thanks, dazed as he joined you in your bed, curled up beneath the covers.

“Would now be a bad time to say that I was talking about us earlier?”

“What?” you asked. A yawn played on your lips, and you breathed him in as he snaked his arms around you. You buried your face into his neck.

“I just– I don’t wanna be fuckbuddies anymore, Y/N. I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you.”

You smiled against his skin, pressing your lips gently to his throat.

“‘Bout time you came out and said it.”

#jake x reader #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka imagine #greta van fleet smut #jake kiszka smut #greta van fleet x reader #greta van fleet imagine #greta van fleet #gvf smut #gvf x reader #gvf imagine #gvf #my writing #queue are my special

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callsigncherub · 1 year

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How about a kiss?

Summary: When your day goes from bad to worse, Rooster’s there to make it better <3

Warnings: None, just fluff!

Word Count: 932

The drive home in the gruelling San Diego heat was not what you needed after quite possibly the worst day you’ve ever had, let alone being caught in the standstill rush hour traffic.

From the get-go you could tell that today was not going to work out in your favour.

To start, after a busy week your exhaustion caught up on you the night before, the 6am alarm you usually set was long forgotten as you passed out after dinner. That deep in sleep that when Rooster’s alarm went off at around 5am you didn’t even hear it, dead to the world. Waking up late, no time for your morning coffee, leaving the house in a rush and dropping your keys trying to lock the door, the small inconveniences slowly building up your frustration, it’s safe to say you showed up to work in a foul mood. With a full day of meetings, you skipped lunch and just minutes before finishing shift your boss slammed a full stack of papers on your desk in preparation for next week’s schedule.

By the end of the day, all you wanted to do was just go home and relax. But instead, here you are, stuck in your car, with little hope of making it home at a reasonable time.

“Seriously? Today of all days?” You huffed, blowing a stray piece of hair out of your face. But of course, it wouldn’t budge, sticking to the thin layer of sweat starting to make its way across your forehead. The heat was uncomfortable, thighs sticking to the leather seats of your car and a prickly sensation radiating over your skin. Leaning your head against your window, the sun, way too bright penetrating the windscreen temporarily blinding you as you pulled down the visor which to no surprise made truly little difference at all. Searching for your sunglasses and eventually failing, your emotions wearing thin.

Eventually after what felt like forever the traffic started to clear and when you finally got home an overwhelming sense of relief made its way throughout your body to find your fiancé’s Bronco parked in the driveway. Rushing through the door you were met with the sounds of Rooster clattering around the kitchen singing his very own rendition of Queen’s ‘Somebody to Love.’

“Honey? Is that you?” Rooster called from the kitchen as you toed your shoes off and made your way over to where he was standing in front of the stove. “Hey pretty girl. How was your day?” he said, eyeing you up. The look on your face was enough to answer his question and immediately you felt your bottom lip begin to quiver – the day beginning to take its reckless toll on you.

“It was awful Roos, I woke up late, I’ve barely had time to eat today and now I have a shit ton of work to do before next week and then I was stuck in traffic on the way home and it’s so damn hot!” You rambled, gasping for air with each word. “Hey, slow down, slow down.” Rooster whispered, pulling you in for a hug that you very swiftly dodged. “No Roos its way to hot and I’m really not in the mood.” You snapped.

Feeling guilty at your sudden outburst, the dam finally broke and the tears previously threatening to spill from your eyes were now furiously falling down your face, red hot and showing no sign of stopping any time soon.

So, being the laidback but ever so caring fiancé he is, Rooster held both of your shaking hands in his own and let you have your moment. He knew you didn’t get this worked up often and that by the end of the night you’d have forgotten about the terrible events of your day. But, for now he sat in silence and waited for you to calm down enough for him to make you feel better.

“How about I run you a cool bath?” He offered but you shook your head no and sighed, rubbing your eyes. “How about we order takeout and watch more of Gilmore girls?” but you didn’t say anything, and he knew exactly what to do. “How about a kiss?” he suggested, wiggling his eyebrows, and flashing you a wide grin. Giggling, you nodded, and he drew you into his chest kissing all over your face and neck, the scratch of his moustache tickling you before he planted one sweet kiss on your lips. “Feelin better now honey?” you beamed up at him and nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I think I do want to take a bath and order takeout and watch Gilmore girls.” You said slowly, yelping when he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder, heading up to the bathroom, with you in a fit of giggles behind him. He placed you down on the bathroom counter and drew your bath. Once you were in, he joined you and you leaned back against his chest, letting the stress of the day slowly leave your body. “Thank you, Roos, I love you.” You said tilting your head back to look up at him. He looked down at you with an overwhelming feeling of love and adoration. “I love you too Mrs Bradshaw.”

At that you gasped dramatically and looked down at the beautiful ring that belonged to his late mother, perched on your finger. “Did I miss the wedding?” Bradley barked out laugh at your faked offense. “I’m sorry honey, how can I make it up to you?”

“Hm, how about a kiss?”

Taglist:

@roosterforme

@roosterscockpit

@minichrismd

@aistash

#bradley bradshaw x reader #top gun #top gun fanfiction #top gun rooster #top gun maverick #rooster x you #rooster bradshaw fic #rooster imagine #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #tgm #rooster fluff #bradley bradshaw fluff

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tieronecrush · 11 months

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꒰ა ONLY ANGEL ໒꒱

javier peña x f!reader

chapter six: an angel cries

series masterlist

rating: E (18+ only, MDNI)

summary: After his return to the US, Javier is trying to settle back into a normal life without the pressures of Colombia and the DEA, but he finds himself feeling isolated with no one to spend his nights with. Now a newly appointed criminology professor at Texas A&M, he is drawn to you, a post-grad student in one of his classes. You’re intelligent and witty, sweet and kind, and he can’t get you out of his mind. To cope with his growing loneliness and to rid himself of thoughts of you, he signs up for an “arrangement service” to connect him with somebody—a sugar baby—he can care for. After he is matched up with Angel, he finds himself developing feelings quicker than he ever expected, but what happens when he finds out Angel is really you?

series warnings: power imbalance (prof and student), sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship, discussion of money, criminal activity, judicial systems, graduate school, smut, daddy/papí kink, praise kink, degradation, self deprecation, discussion of self worth, multiple sexual or romantic partners, sex work, cursing, use of spanish, likely more warning so read at your own risk!

word count: 8.2k

a/n: no smut in this chapter but i promise (i hope) you'll all still love it!!!! so sorry this took so long but life got messy this last month and now hopefully has returned to somewhat normalcy (whatever normal is for me is still mostly chaotic but hey!) and i can get this series and some other new writing posted for y'all CONSISTENTLY. and thank you thank you thank you as ALWAYS @northernbluess for beta-ing. couldn't survive this hellscape of a website without you <3

In the first class after your argument, Javier doesn’t bat an eye when he marks you absent on the attendance log. He figured that you would skip, wanting to be able to avoid the lecture hall himself but being forced to do his job regardless. A small part of him hoped you wouldn’t break your perfect record, ever the attentive student, but that small part was naive to think that what he said — what he shamed you for — was easily forgotten in the name of a flawless attendance grade for the semester.

The venom laced in his voice that night felt so foreign coming out of him. The words spewed out of his mouth with only the aim to hurt you as badly as he had hurt when he saw you with the other man.

Callow, brutal, vile, spiteful, scared. No matter how many adjectives he used to attempt to brush away those words, that night, the broken look on your face, the tear streaks on your cheeks, he couldn’t get rid of the searing acid bubbling up from his stomach and blistering his throat. Every time he found himself surrounded by some quiet, found himself alone in his office or apartment or car, closed his eyes to fall asleep, all he could see was you, shattered in the streetlamp light, and all he could hear was your voice, coated in emotion and hurling pain back at him:

“I really thought you were different…”

“How can you say that shit when you tell me how much you care?”

“Fuck you, Javier. Fuck you.”

“Don’t fucking call me, don’t pull me after class. We’re done.”

As soon as he said the words, he couldn’t believe what had come out of his mouth. If it were about any woman, he would be shocked to hear them from himself.

But especially regarding you.

His angel. His Bebita. His fresh start. His girl.

The woman he had tripped into meeting and fallen for as quick as that first flash of your smile. He wasn’t going to let you go without trying.

Which is what led him into a routine of waking up each morning, giving your cell a call, and leaving a voicemail. He did the same before going to bed, and would call to leave you messages when something reminded him of you during the say.

“Morning, angel. Jus’ thought I’d try you again. And I know you said not to call, but I need to keep telling you how sorry I am. What I said was…vergonzoso. Disgraceful. Horrible. You never deserved to hear that…I’m so sorry, Bebita. You probably don’t care what I have to say, but hope you have a good day.”

“Hi, baby. Callin’ again. Missed you in class today, I haven’t gotten notice that you dropped from my course, so I do hope to see you Wednesday. Don’t worry about your grade…doin’ just fine, sabelotodo (smarty pants)...I, um, I’m wearing that navy suit of mine, and I reach into the pocket to try and find my faculty ID. Pulled out one of your lil’ doodles, and it’s of me — think ya nailed it. You captioned it too: ‘Relax your brow and smile, grumpy pants.’ Thanks for the reminder, Bebita. Sin embargo, eres la única razón por la que sonrío (You’re the only reason I smile, though.) I’m so sorry.”

“At this point, I know you’re not gonna answer, angel. But I can hope you listen to ‘em before deleting ‘em, so I’m saying goodnight…haven’t seen you in a couple a’weeks. Baby, I know I don’t have any right to ask but can you just let me know you’re alright? That you’re alive? You can call me and give me another ‘fuck you’ if you want…m’worried. Te extraño. I miss you. Parte de mi corazón falta sin ti. (Part of my heart is missing without you.) I’m so sorry.”

He knows it’s a bit pathetic to be calling still after two weeks of unanswered calls. 34 calls, to be exact. 34 voicemails left. About 134 times he wanted to time-travel backward and punch himself in the fucking face before he said shit.

And he’s gotten even more pathetic, even more desperate for any sign of life from you, that he’s taken up a daily email in the last week.

To: B (TheOnlyAngel)

Subject: I’m A Fucking Idiot and I’m So Fucking Sorry (#4)

Hi angel,

This might push you over the edge to receive yet another email and all of the voicemails I’ve been leaving, but I think if you know one thing about me, baby, I am un culo terco (translation: a stubborn ass). And you are probably going to block my number and my email at some point but until then, I’m going to keep apologizing.

Can we please talk, Bebita? I don’t deserve forgiveness but if you can give me some of your time, I want to apologize to you in person. It’s the least you deserve.

Any sign of life would be appreciated. I’m worried about you, baby. I’m so sorry.

To: B (TheOnlyAngel)

Subject: I’m A Fucking Idiot and I’m So Fucking Sorry (#7)

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

I hate being away from you. I hate the words I spoke to you. I hate how I belittled you. I hate how I made you cry. I hate how I didn’t care for you. That’s all I want to do, Bebita.

I hate myself.

And definitely not what you want to hear from me, but in case you are reading these and in case I am still in fact your professor, midterm assignments are due in my office mailbox by Friday noon. I know yours is going to be amazing, sabelotodo. Miss you.

I’m going to stop emailing you and calling you. I should’ve respected the fact that you told me not to.

I’m so sorry.

The bell toll of a new email rings over the computer’s speakers on the desk you’re sitting at in the middle of the library. A few students around you snap their heads over their shoulders or around in their chairs to glare at you; huffing out a breath, you sink lower in your seat after turning the volume dial until it clicks off.

4:30PM. It’s the usual hour for his daily emails, something that has been stacking in your inbox for the last week. You should have expected it or could’ve if you had been paying any mind to the digital clock in the bottom corner of the screen. Instead, you’ve been staring at the blinking cursor, stuck in the middle of a sentence in one of your midterm essays.

Of course, it’s for Sociology of Deviance. Of course, he has to send you yet another reminder of him, of his regret — another apology — while you are forced to think about him anyway for this assignment.

The stunted sentence is the product of your mind trailing out, pulling you by a rope wrapped around your heart to that night again. It’s been two weeks, and you haven’t seen Javier at all, but you can’t shake the image of his face, twisted into an anger you had never seen from him but with a pain so deep in his eyes that you could fall into it and never know your way back up. And you can’t silence the echoes of his words to you, each repetition sounding even more cruel, even more virulent than the last.

“I’m a job to you, just work.”

“Don’t. Don’t pull that shit, you knew what you were doing.”

“You know, I thought when I was signing up, I would have someone just for me. Didn’t expect to get someone for everyone.”

“Was I really just some fucking job, a shift you scheduled every week?”

That night, standing in front of him at his car, you were so remorseful for what you had hidden from him, what you had lied about. Thinking it was all done for his sake to keep at a distance and not hurt him. It was done for your own protection. Not wanting to get hurt yourself. The amount of care that you hold for him — even still, as angry as it makes you — scares the shit out of you. It feels different from anything else, like your eyes have been opened fully, vision clear, and your heart is beating to a new rhythm.

Instead, now it thumps in slow, tired pulses. Aches in your chest at all hours of the day, every day. Even after trying your best, Javi had left a mark, a big one.

And the calls, the emails, they all kept pressing into that mark, thumbing that deep-tissue bruise to turn it to a muddy purple. You hate yourself for the amount of times that you have thought about forgetting what he said, calling him up, and saying you needed him. You knew it was pathetic. A bigger part of you hates yourself because you know it’s true. You need him. Not in the can’t-function-without-someone-to-be-dependent-on way but in the I-need-somewhere-to-put-all-this-love kind of way.

You love him. No point in denying it now. And your love is screaming at you every second of the day to pick up one of his phone calls, to interrupt him as he’s leaving yet another voicemail, to send a note in response to an email.

Those screams are still getting tamped down by your anger — that side of you that is still more powerful, tougher, and grittier than its opposite: the tender, pliant, delicate you.

Shaking yourself out of your thoughts, you navigate out of the document and into your inbox. The subject is bolded along with his name, the mark of it being unread. Titled the same as the rest, you click it open expecting more of the same. And while it starts out in the usual manner — typed apologies and varied descriptions of how he feels about himself, what he said, how he hurt you.

But the second to last line makes your stomach flip, something out of the ordinary:

I’m going to stop emailing you and calling you. I should’ve respected the fact that you told me not to.

Is he giving up?

Why the fuck is he giving up? Has he decided you’re really not worth the effort? He can’t be damned to actually see it through, to hold out hope that you would maybe respond?

Anger bubbles in your gut, sending the simmering heat across your body and kicking up your heart rate. Seriously, fuck that. You may have gotten annoyed with the constant contact, but at least he was trying. Clearly, he doesn’t care to try to apologize in person that much, or to hear any sign of life from you.

God, why does it have to hurt this much?

Redirecting your rage proves useful to start the essay again, words flowing from your fingertips and the clicks and clacks of the keyboard drowning out the voices in your head. By the end of the night, six hours later, you pull your hand away from the mouse; assignment proofread multiple times, a confidence in your capabilities blooming when you drag the cursor to press the ‘Print’ button.

When you gather your papers from the printer across the room, stapling them together ordered and aligned, the sinking feeling returns. After midterm break is over, you’ll have to go back to class. To see him twice a week, watch him lecture with his furrowed brow and a perpetual frown. To listen to his voice and wait to hear his usual affections that won’t come. To simply be around him and to try to not fall right back into his arms.

Muscle memory carries you from the library to the bus stop, getting on your usual route home with those thoughts continuing to consume your spare space in your mind. Simple reminders flash in your head between the thoughts, all conjured up in Javi’s gentle voice: Third floor up to your apartment, baby. Turn the key to the right to unlock. Remember to close the curtains, angel — locks in the minimal heat to make it last through the night and keeps you out of view from the street. Drop your backpack on the ground for tomorrow. Kick off your shoes, take off your coat, cariño. Brush your teeth and wash your face, you can shower in the morning. Change into your pajamas, and don’t forget to turn out the light next to your bed. Go to sleep, my good girl, get your rest. Goodnight, Bebita.

Clicking the end of a pen over and over, Javier watches the clock as the deadline for his grad-level midterm ticks closer. The curriculum notes sitting in front of him blur as his mind drifts from his work — back to you, of course.

He’s forgone his voicemails for the last two days, emails drafted and left there. If there was any chance for you to agree to meet him in person, he didn’t want his incessant, honestly a bit obsessive, contact to be resented. You asked him not to call, not to say anything. And he did the exact opposite of that, thinking it was right.

Without the outlet of speaking to you (even if you weren’t listening or reading), his thoughts have been able to spiral and morph, recognizing in himself exactly what he was afraid of at the moment he saw you with someone else.

It wasn’t about you, it never was about you. Those words he spoke were lashed out in anger, in fear for what was possibly waiting for him on the other side of this ‘arrangement’ with you. He was all in, he was in love and held out hope that you felt the same way. You care, that is obvious to him, but without openly communicating, he was left to pack away his feelings to keep the dynamic normal for you.

But when you were with someone else, laughing at whatever the hell he was saying, making you smile, touching his arm, he couldn’t tamp down the repeated thought — I want to be the only one for her.

And what did he expect? How could you want to be with someone like him anyway?

Damaged, jaded, flawed, worn-out, and starving for something he doesn’t deserve: happiness.

Did he do it all wrong? Come on too strong and you went somewhere else to find what you wanted, even if it was just a job? He didn’t even ask if you wanted a relationship. He was so head over heels that he fell into it, treating you as if you were his girlfriend without ever asking you.

Is that why you don’t feel the same? Because you can’t see anything but his past with him? Half of your relationship with him is born out of his professional failures — never being there when they caught Escobar, the Cali godfathers with a future that they might walk freely, resigning from the DEA.

Is he even capable of loving you the right way or being loved back? There has to be an answer, and he selfishly is aching to know. Did he give you enough love, or did he love you in the right way? The answer must be no, for you to keep up with other men, other clients.

The sound of quick-moving footsteps pulls him out of his derailing train of thought, the thumps of the feet on the carpeted hallway slowing right in front of his office. In the crack between the floor and the door, he sees the shadow of whoever is on the other side, and one quick look at the clock tells him it is a last-minute submission. The slip of paper against paper sounds, the stack dropping into his plastic mailbox that is next to the entrance to his office.

The shadows of the student linger, seconds clocking down until he goes to open the door and collect. Part of him wants to drag himself out of his seat and do it now, simply to see who this last submission was by in person, but he waits — at least that student got it in on time, they don’t deserve the professor intimidation.

Shifting around, the shadows of the shoes under the door fade as footsteps begin to slowly recede, giving him a cue to get up and collect the assignments. Opening the door, he sticks his head out and checks both directions down the hall, no sign of a student in sight. With a sigh, he turns to his mailbox, dreading reading some — actually most — of the essays in the group. Just because you get into grad school, doesn’t mean you need to be there. And he isn’t even that much of a stickler for grading, some people just…don’t have the academic talent for essay writing. And they shouldn’t be sharing their opinions.

With an eye roll to no one except himself, he takes the stack of papers and allows his eyes to fall on the first one to flick through. Reading the name on the top of the page, he freezes in place at the door to his office, straddling the line between the public space of the hallway and the privacy of his office.

Yours.

That means that it was you outside of his office only a few minutes ago; you lingered, and the pull of your force is nearly driving him to go in search of you in this building or across the whole campus if he could see a glimpse of you.

All he can picture is you standing at his office door, knowing he was probably on the other side. You stayed, even for a few seconds — were you debating on knocking? Were you thinking about him as much as he was thinking about you? Did he lose a chance to talk to you, to see you, because he sat around for a few seconds after you walked away?

Immediately, his eyes drift down to the material, starting to read and be brought into whatever thoughts you have had in the last two weeks. It may be only relevant to the subject of the course, but he could listen to you speak about anything for any amount of time, and reading your work is all the same. A slice of you, even if the focus is on something totally different from what he is desperate to know from you.

At that moment, the stack of assignments doesn’t seem as bleak, and he sets them all down on his desk, shrugging the suit jacket off his shoulders and discarding it across the sofa. Sitting down in his chair, he’s determined to get through the essays and submit the grades to the Dean, a plan formulating in his head about how to see you while he flips to the next page of your assignment.

Adrenaline pumps through his veins, making his limbs feel lighter and his steps echo heavier in his mind. In one hand, he holds the stapled packet curled in a C-shape, running the pad of his thumb across the edges. Perfectly timed, he approaches the entry to the building as a resident walks out, exchanging a nod in acknowledgment with the man as he slips inside. Craning his neck up, he looks at the staircases, relieved to hear silence. Climbing to the third floor, he halts at the last stair, taking in a deep inhale and letting it out slowly, his nerves prickling across his skin as he faces whatever is ahead of him.

Taking a handful of steps forward, he settles at the door that is his destination, holding his breath for a few seconds before reaching his hand up to knock on the door. It’s confident but not aggressive, and hopefully, intriguing enough for the knock to be answered.

With bated breath, he hears the faint sound of footsteps, the same familiar cadence as yesterday. The click of the deadbolt being undone and the scrape of the chain being released quickens his pulse, hands toying with the papers in his hands. With a breeze, the door swings open and his eyes immediately find your face.

The wind is knocked out of him, his brain short-circuiting at the sight of you. His vision tunnels, focus on dragging his gaze around to catch everything he’s missed. Supple lips still slicked with your glossy lip balm, soft skin of your cheeks that his fingers are itching to run across, the glittering of light in your eyes that sends a tingle down his spine. You’re clad in an oversized sweater and sweat-shorts, plush socks on your feet.

You look as beautiful as ever to him. But you look tired.

And he knows that it’s because of him.

“Hi, Bebita.” He barely manages a greeting before he hears your voice for the first time in two weeks.

“Jesus Christ, Javi,” you huff and shake your head, reaching up for the door and starting to close it. One quick step lodges his foot in the doorframe, catching it before it closes fully. One of his hands grabs the edge, an inch above yours.

“Javier, move your foot.”

“Wait, wait, hold on—”

“What do you want, Javier?”

“I came to return your midterm — I didn’t know if you would be in class, and you deserve to get your grade back when everyone else does. I guess this is technically before everyone else, but…I wanted to see you.” His big brown puppy dog eyes face you as you take him in, gripping the door harder. The buttery, relaxed leather jacket stretches across his shoulders, one of his usual button-downs on underneath. His legs taper in from his torso in his dark blue jeans, black boots pointed toward your door. You can see the desperation in his face, the anxiety present in his wide eyes, chin tilted down, and gaze looking at you through his long, dense lashes. His mouth hangs open slightly before he takes another breath and speaks, “Y’know, you really fucked the curve for the whole class by gettin’ a hundred percent, sabelotodo.”

Javier passes the paper to you, unfurling it and showing off the marks at the top of the page.

“Graded completely objectively. This was excellent work…” He stands in silence while you look at the red ink on the page, your stomach rolling with pride and sorrow. “I really think we need to talk, Bebita.”

“The nickname. Please, Javier,” your voice is thick when you look back up at him, tears threatening your waterline.

“M’sorry, sorry…do you—would you give me five minutes?” Swallowing hard, he wipes his free hands on his jeans, clamminess coating them from the nerves. You take a moment, weighing your options.

Getting to slam the door in his face would be satisfying. A dig back at him without having to say anything.

But the louder part of yourself is scolding that behavior, telling you to let him in to at least allow him to apologize. And that same part selfishly wants to know what he has to say and if it will relieve any of your thoughts and growing insecurities born out of this whole situation.

“Oh, fuck’s sake…” you mumble under your breath when you reach your decision, pulling the door back open with a sigh. Your eyes avoid Javier as you nod in the direction of your living area, “Come in…got five minutes.”

“S’all I need. Promise I will leave when you want me to.” He passes you, clasping his hands together as he gets a waft of your perfume and your shampoo melding together, squeezing with the urge to wrap you up in his arms and press his nose into the smell.

Pausing steps in through the doorway, he looks over at you and tilts his head down to his feet, glancing back up at you as he shyly remembers, “Shoes off, right?”

A flicker of something lighter crosses your eyes, a small nod in confirmation. Javier toes off his boots and leaves them by the door, clad in a pair of socks you pointed out in a store a few weeks ago and giggled about in the middle of the shop: light purple, patterned with black and white cows feeding on patches of grass.

Maybe he’s projecting, but he can feel his heartbeat skip as he watches the most minuscule lift at the corners of your mouth.

Glancing around the familiar space, he notices a few differences from how it’s normally kept. Blankets are strewn across the couch, clearly unraveled to free yourself to answer the door; dishes dot the surfaces around — mugs, bowls, plates, cutlery, wine glasses all dirtied and left there; your hobby crafts are abandoned on your small bistro dining table, all aside from a sketchbook that you quickly shuffle over to flip closed.

Disarray. At least, from what he’s been privy to. Never has he seen you in this state, either at his place when you made yourself at home or here at yours when he stayed over. You’re tidy, and you certainly were never bored with all that you did to occupy your time — it was either roping him into doing something, playing a game, posing for a doodle, or, well, other activities that he was definitely a willing participant in. But this — this wasn’t like you. You could be distracted, sure, but never to the point of a sedentary lifestyle.

He can feel his skin burning and chest cinching painfully as if almost completely caving in on himself. He’s itching to discard his jacket, to feel the cool air on his skin, but he doesn’t want to make himself too comfortable and, in reality, he doesn’t think that would help. Shame snakes into the spaces between his ribs, nestling deep within his chest cavity and coiling around his heart, the slow tightening squeeze of the pain he’s caused you trickling down his blood supply.

He didn’t know what to expect, but this was much more than he ever considered. Bile rises in his throat, simmering in his esophagus as a question replayed in his head — selfish and indulgent.

Did you feel that much for him to be this hurt?

“You can sit down on the couch if you want.” He can hear the trepidation in your voice, eggshells cracking under his feet as he treads lightly, both physically and with the words that he’s planned out to the syllable. As he was grading last night, he took breaks in between each assignment to work through what he wanted to say to you if given a chance. Almost to the point of writing it down, he packaged up his apologies to hand to you with a plea.

Carefully sitting down on the couch, his eyes track your movements as you stand, debating whether or not to take the seat opposite of him on the couch, or to take a seat at the dining table on the other side of the room, still close enough in your budget apartment to speak comfortably.

Javier can’t begin to describe the jolt of energy, soothed with cool relief when you choose to sit on the sofa. Curled up into the corner, pillow tucked into your lap to form a shield against the confrontation, but nevertheless, you’re the closest you’ve been to him in the last two weeks. The entire place smells of you and exudes your energy through the walls covered with your own art and other pieces that you’ve collected over the years, from thrift stores and flea markets or handed down from relatives. Soft furnishings in a gradient of colors melt him a few inches further into the cushions, a complete opposite to his place that is especially drab and boring without you there breathing the life into it — into him.

Toying with the tassels of the throw blanket laid underneath him and over the back, he clears his throat in the silence. He follows the flick of your gaze to the brass-framed clock hanging above your table, the click of the pencil-thin second's hand ticking loudly in the lack of conversation.

Five minutes. You said five minutes and here he is wasting time saying nothing.

The turn of his stomach revitalizes the anxiety thrumming in his veins, the pump of his pulse, and the rush of his blood in his ears sounding like the crashing of ocean waves despite being in the middle of a land-locked city. His fingers twitch with nerves, his whole body feeling as if it’s on high frequency, overwhelming energy shocking his limbs to stillness while his brain fights for dominance of his nerve endings.

He’s felt more confident in interrogations with deadly criminals or negotiating hostage situations.

Swallowing hard, he finally takes enough deep breaths to slow his heartbeat and gain control of his body, a long inhaling before he stutters out a pathetic beginning to his apologies, “Um. Fuck—sorry, I’m no good at this…”

The first words out of his mouth after two weeks of begging you to hear him out, and it’s ‘I’m no good at this.’ Are you wasting your time? Is this going to put you in a worse place?

All you want is for something to settle — the uncertainty of holding out on him or not knowing what he’s going to say to you exactly has eaten you alive after so many long days. Whatever the outcome is, you can deal with it, but this limbo — the purgatory before knowing if you have to survive your time in hell or can be brought into forgiveness, for him and for yourself — heightens your already present fears and festers your growing insecurities.

“I take it you’ve never had to apologize like this?” It comes out harsher than you meant it; some of it was meant to cut, but another part of you was genuinely curious. Has he never had a relationship like this? Has he never had to apologize to a woman he’s dating because he doesn’t date or because he leaves before an apology is necessary?

Are you about to be one of those women that he leaves before he apologizes?

“No — I mean, yes. Wait, no, fuck, I have had to apologize like this before. I mean, it’s me we’re talking about, I fuck up everything…” he chuckles at his own attempt at a joke to lighten the mood even a fraction, “I had this whole thing planned out from last night. Tried to rehearse it and everything, but seeing you, it’s completely wiped my mind. You don’t deserve some line-by-line bullshit apology.”

He shifts in his seat, inching closer and cheating his body to face you completely. One leg on the cushion, bent and hooked under the one that keeps him grounded. The change in his position makes you scoot, centimeters closer to the edge, plotting your escape to the bathroom or your bedroom when the inevitable tears start and when Javier walks away, possibly for good.

The tiniest voice in your head is yelling at you for feeling so sorry for yourself, for him probably coming over here to give you an apology and leave you behind because you’re used, you’re shameful. The voice is telling you that you should be angry with him, not crying over him any more than you already have the last fourteen days. When the sound of Javier’s timbre floats to your ears, that voice is silenced and the craving for him begins to unfurl itself from the tiny compartment you packed it away in.

“I am sorry, angel. So, so fucking sorry. What I said to you was completely out of hand and so disrespectful and absolutely not what I feel about our situation or about you. Not an excuse, just trying to explain to you what was going on in my head…I just — when I saw you with another guy, all I could think about was how I wanted to be the only one for you. It was naive of me to think that you wouldn’t have any other clients, I mean, I was the new addition and I thought I was the only one because you were the only one to me. And that is completely my choice, the whole damn reason I signed up for the service in the first place was to find someone that I could spend time with to avoid my loneliness, and well, it worked maybe too well for me. I was, and still am, completely enamored by you, cariño. The second I saw you, in that first class, I was done for. And then when it turned out to be you that I was talking to through our emails, it felt like it was a sign from the universe or God or fate, whatever you want to call it, but it was natural. I remember thinking to myself that night at the bar, ‘Of course, it was you’.”

“And all those feelings that I kept to myself, all the times when I wasn’t clear with what I thought we were, it all caught up to me that night at the event, and seeing you with another man, I was so afraid for what I was about to lose that I cut it off myself and lashed out at you. Anger is all I have known for so long, angel, and I never wanted you to be on the other end of that. I was nasty, and malicious, and I wanted to hurt you in that moment because I was hurt. That was completely unfair, unwarranted. You didn’t do anything wrong, you never explicitly lied to my face to say that I was the only one you were seeing…I know I fucked up. I regret everything I said to you that night, and I hate myself for hurting you. I know you probably don’t want to hear it but I need you to know how sorry I am. It was fucked up, what I said, and I understand if you still don’t want anything to do with me if you still want to end all of this. I wouldn’t blame you.”

It takes a few beats of silence after he’s given you everything to consider, the words taking their time to sink into your mind and truly register all that he is saying to you. It would be easy, comfortable, to completely brush everything away and accept his apology outright, but you know that if you want anything more out of this…relationship, then the two of you have to work on your communication, and you have to be honest.

Clearing your throat, you sit up from your sinking posture and raise a shaking hand to your face to skim over your skin, flicking away the hairs from your periphery. Tears sting in your eyes, a quiet sniffle filling the silence between the two of you. Thrumming with anxious energy, your body jitters and your voice wavers as you speak back to him, mustering the courage to sit in your discomfort of confrontation and say your piece.

“I told you that I thought you were different because you were different to me. I did have other clients when we were together in our own arrangement, but from the moment I met you in person as ‘Angel’, there was a shift. Something out of the ordinary from all the other times I’d met someone new…I cared, Javi. I still do. I care about you so fucking much, and that’s why it hurt so much that you said all that you said. If anyone else that I was ‘with’ told me that they thought all that about me, I would simply roll it off and terminate our arrangement and move on. But you — Javi, you are so much more than a job to me. You were never a job, even from that first night. I was always excited to see you, catching your eye in class and sneaking off into your office hours even just to steal a kiss. I forgot how we even met, technically.”

In the breath you take, Javier affirms what you said, “I forgot, too. I think I forgot what it all was the second I found out it was you that I was talking to. It didn’t matter how I got or kept your attention, just that you were giving me any.”

Nodding, your eyes fall to your hands fiddling with the pillow in your lap, lifting them from the plush square to rub your eyes, the tears you had been fighting slowly winning their battle.

“That was why it hurt so much, Javier. I couldn’t believe what you were saying because it was so unlike you, and to hear it from you, the person I care the most about, it was just…devastating. When there have been other people in my life that have found out what I do, and they’ve said the same type of things, it hurt, of course, it did, but you, Javi—” A choke of a sob interrupts you, tightness building in your chest as you swallow them down, you tears falling faster and emotion thickening your voice. “You made me feel so small. So insignificant, and—and dirty. I couldn’t live with myself thinking that you felt that way when you looked at me. That I was used, that I was merchandise bought and returned to many times and now I get to be tossed aside…I could compartmentalize when other people told me the same things because I justified it as my job. But you were never a job to me, so when you told me that you weren’t expecting ‘someone that was for everyone’, I just…I immediately felt like I was less because I wasn’t serving you how you assumed I would. That I wasn’t living up to your expectations…”

“I quit. I wasn’t in class this week ‘cause I’ve been having meetings with my academic counselor to figure out if I can manage classes with a different job…when I quit I told them to refund you everything that I could give back to them. What happened, completely changed it all for me and I knew I wasn’t going to be able to go right back into it and act like it was normal when I felt so horrible about what I was doing because you don’t like it…”

“Cariño, no, no, no. I hate that you think all of this because I was being fucking stupid. And you absolutely did not need to quit, I would hate my fuckery to be the reason you have to add more stress to your life by balancing a different job and school. I mean, even searching for a job is a lot—”

You interrupt his rambling, wanting to soothe his spiraling anxieties about your well-being, and not wanting to seem like any more of a burden that he has to care for or take on. That your insecurity around being dependent on men like him, on him on his own, is still present despite your resignation. You want him to see you as strong, independent, formidable. Someone he doesn’t have to worry about.

“It’s alright, Javier. I have a new job already. Don’t have to worry about anything for me…” The lie is blatant to you, but hiding your face down toward your lap aids in disguising your tells, and it skates easily out of Javier’s radar. He doesn’t need another reason to think less of you.

“Angel, m’always gonna worry about you…”

Your bravery streak continues when you lift your head, facing him across from you head-on. The sight you’re met with takes you back, Javier bent over with his elbows to his knees, his hands covering his mouth and his eyes red and glistening with tears of his own. The shine of damp tracks on his cheeks is shown in the low lighting of your apartment when he turns his head toward you, the absolute disappointment, guilt, and pain oozing from his big, brown eyes.

Peeling his hands away, they twitch with the need to reach out for you before settling in his lap; Javier shakes his head as he takes in your own visual emotions, tears flowing freely.

“I am so, so incredibly sorry that I ever made you feel any less than you are…” His own words are coated in emotion, a few stray tears falling down his cheeks. “I can’t apologize enough for hurting you, baby, and I will do anything I can to mend any of those wounds I created with my careless, angry, thoughtless words. There is nothing you have to live up to, angel. I miss you. So fucking much. And I’m the biggest fucking asshole on this planet to make you feel any less beautiful and incredible and caring and angelic and lovable than you are. You deserve so much better than what I gave to you, and I would give anything to try to make it up to you. Even if nothing more comes of it, I would love your permission to earn your forgiveness.”

Javier takes in an audible breath, a slow exhale as he moves closer to you, still enough distance in between that you can read that he doesn’t want to cross a line. Every part of him faces toward you, completely tunneled on you still folded into the corner.

“I’m all in for you, Bebita. I could give two shits about whatever arrangement you had, what you did in the past, nothing. All I want is you, all I need is you in my life and that is it. I will work every day to earn your forgiveness and earn back your trust. I want to show you how much I care about you, angel. I don’t want to go anywhere, just want to be wherever you are and do anything I can to take care of you and protect you and make sure you know how fucking special you are. You’re my one-of-a-kind girl, Bebita, there’s nobody else like you.”

His assurances, his pledges to spare you from any more hurt, from him or others, swell your heart. Drawn toward his again, it beats loudly in your ears, drowning out any doubt, and the deep, quick thumps flush out the confusion and the shame that was growing within your chest. Sincerity is evident in his words and in his tone; there isn’t room for anything but a genuine promise to make it up to you, to work to prove himself once again.

Forgiveness may be a long road, and a terrifying prospect to start out again, uncertainty of the future disguising any pain it might cause you. But the fear flashes in your mind as excitement for half a second, a shock to your system after the last couple of weeks. Looking at Javier at the end of that night two weeks ago is completely different to him now, vulnerability clear in his eyes and feelings voiced; the sight of him shaken up takes you back to that night, walking outside to find him leaning over the hood of his car, breathing erratic as he stood with his eyes closed, trying to calm down.

In that moment, all you wanted to do was curl up around him, and show him that you care despite his annoyance and anger with you when he went out to smoke on the patio. It’s the same now, your feelings, your love, desperately begging your body to move toward him, to break out of the locked box that you had attempted to keep it in since he broke your heart. You had told yourself to be strong, to fight what your heart was telling you, but it occurs to you that strength can be listening to what you want, what you need, not what you think you should be doing. Battling with your mind has exhausted you, and now you want to return to comfort — return home. To come back to him, even if it will take a long while to feel how it did before.

“Okay…” you start, voice softened and anxious energy channeled into your fingers fiddling with the trim of the throw pillow in your lap. “You have my permission to earn my forgiveness, Javier. But I can’t make any promises to you about when or what it’s all going to look like—”

“Bebita, as long as I have you in my life somehow, I don’t give a damn about anything else. I only want to be around you, for as much or as little as you want me.”

Another silence falls over the room, much more comfortable than the previous one. There’s a clearness, a breath to the air that was heavy and dense before; your shoulders feel looser, your heart the tiniest bit lighter. Blinking back the pooling tears at your waterline, a handful fell freely in the process, carving out the last of the streaky paths that littered your cheeks down to your chin. Javier’s hand taps the pads of his fingers against his dark blue denim, the same hand slowly reaching out for you, fully extending to rest on the pillow in your lap. His pinky stretches sideways next to your own hand, nudging your little finger before you hook them together without a word.

Sitting with a pinky promise made without a word, warmth passes between the two of you and you can feel his pulse through the minor contact; it slows the longer the two of you are still, breaths returning to normal, regulating the calmness you always felt around Javier in quiet moments like this.

The tiniest of voices breaks the silence streak, making the first sound at the next tick of the second hand from the clock on your wall; it’s Javier who speaks, gaze focused on you as he meekly, more tentative than you’ve ever heard him, “Can I hold you, Bebita?”

The name no longer feels like the burn of a branding, instead feels like sinking into your own bed after being away for days or weeks; plush, cozy, comforting. Just right. A small smile finds itself tugging at the corner of your mouth, nodding slowly with the tears dried on your face. Unraveling yourself from the curled-up position, you discard the pillow to the floor and crawl over to him, a short two feet. Before you make any movement to draw yourself any closer, Javier takes advantage of your willing proximity and wraps his arms around you, pulling you to settle in his lap. Strong, steady arms tighten around your frame and press you flush against him, his eyes combing over your face with devotion before he curls into you, face notching into the space between your neck and shoulder. The weight of his head drops onto you, drawing you to melt further into him.

Your own arms snake their way around his neck, wrapping him up in an easy hug.

“I don’t wanna leave you again…” he confesses in a whisper below your ear, rasp roughing up his words but raising goosebumps on your smooth skin.

His tension completely relaxes under your touch, heated breaths exhaling condensation against your skin before the molecules of his breath evaporate with your rising body heat. The scent of his hair flutters your eyes closed, the loss of your one sense heightening your ability to pick up the subtleties of his smokey whiskey, the spice of his burnt tobacco, the freshness of his vetiver and bergamot aftershave.

“You can stay if you want…haven’t really been able to sleep without you.” The admission pulls his face out of its spot, leaning back with the same tight hold around you keeping him close. Brown eyes search yours, softness and sadness rounding them as the slightest frown finds his lips.

“I’m sorry, Bebita. S’not gonna happen again, I won’t let it. M’gonna be here for you, always.” One of his arms loosens, pulled to the front of you, and reaches up to tuck your hair away from your face and delicately trail over your cheekbones, down your jaw to hold your chin between his thumb and index finger. “Always, Bebita.”

In deliberate and careful movements, Javier leans in, testing if you’ll turn away. When the denial doesn’t come, he inches closer, nudging his nose against yours before catching your lips in a tender, fragile kiss. It’s sweet and conservative for Javier, the man who is normally confident in every one of his actions. Aiding in settling his nerves, you return the kiss with a hair more heaviness, deepening it to breathe him in and taste him on your lips. A craving satiated, fulfilled before anything moves further.

Pulling away, he rests his forehead against yours, his hand holding your jaw and the other running his fingertips up your spine. His touch is expert at relaxing you, melding you two together again with his heat, pulling and shaping you to fit exactly where you belong — with him.

A whisper back to him, as meek as his initial request to draw you close, “You promise?”

“Lo prometo, Bebita. No quiero dejarte ir. (I promise, Bebita. I don’t want to let you go.) I mean always when I say always. Whatever you need from me, I’ll give to you, baby. Te adoro. (I adore you.)”

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my kofi

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archangeldyke-all · 8 months

Note

HIIIIII

Love Sevika and lil Slayer so I was thinking about how reader would find a lost Slayer wondering around and takes her homes. Would love some frantic very worried Sev putting up lost puppy posters EVERYWHERE. But reader and slayer are bonding so well but she does the right thing and brings her back to Sev when reader realises how hot she is and starts CRUSHING.

GOD I LOVE SEVIKA!!!!!

THANK YOU ANGEL FOR ALL YOUR WORKSS <33333

CUTE I LOVE SLAYER i'm so glad u guys like that stinky little dog too <3

men and minors dni

you're walking home on a rainy day, when a little furball darts out in front of you, nearly tripping you.

you curse as you stumble over it, then pout in pity when you realize that the little creature isn't a rat, but is in fact, a little black chihuahua, soaking wet and shivering in the rain.

"poor thing." you say, reaching out to let the little dog sniff your hand. she seems to trust you, licking your fingers and pressing her head against your hand for pets. your heart melts. "where's your human?" you ask the little furball, pulling it into your arms and hurrying home.

when you get home, you strip out of your raincoat, before wrapping the little dog up into a fluffy towel, helping it warm up.

it's whimpering in your arms as you settle down against the couch, a pathetic little cry as she tries to warm up in your arms.

"let's see here." you mumble as you tug at her collar.

the front of her tag reads 'slayer.' you laugh at the name, pressing a kiss to the dog's head.

"you're not a slayer, are you? no, you're a sweetheart." you say. the dog licks it's nose.

the back of the tag has an address-- a few miles walk from your apartment. you pout. "oh baby, you're far from home, aren't you?" you ask the dog. she seems to understand you, whining again.

"i'll take you home tomorrow, okay?" you ask. "i'm too tired right now. let's go see what i got in the fridge for you, baby." you say as you carry little slayer to your kitchen.

once she's warm and fed (having wagged her tail so hard at the sight of your leftover chicken sandwich that you couldn't deny her) slayer walks herself into your bedroom, jumping up onto your mattress and making herself comfortable in the center of your bed.

you laugh.

"you must be spoiled at home, huh?" you ask the dog as she yawns. "somebody's probably missing you right now." you say.

you sleep better than you've slept in years with little slayer acting as a space heater under your covers.

when you wake up in the morning, you're almost sad to have to bring the dog home, but you do regardless.

the closer you get to the address, the more missing dog posters you see plastered up around the neighborhood. you look down at the dog in your arms, clearly recognizing her surroundings if her squirming was any indication, and laugh.

"someone really missed you, huh?" you ask the dog. she yaps in excitement, and you laugh.

when you knock on the door, you're expecting a little kid, or maybe an old lady to open the door.

what you aren't expecting is a six foot something, two hundred something pounds of pure muscle, goddess of a woman to answer the door.

she looks frazzled, eyes bloodshot from crying, eyebags dark from lack of sleep, hair a mess.

the second she sees slayer in your arms, she bursts into tears.

"slayer you little shit!" she exclaims, reaching forward to grab the dog and tug it toward her chest. slayer's wiggling in her graps, yapping and licking her face in excitement. you laugh.

"i found her a few miles away-- i hope you weren't looking for her for long." you say. the woman looks up at you, seemingly noticing you for the first time, and she quickly tries to wipe up her tears.

"thank you so fucking much." she says, darting forward to pull you into a hug.

you freeze in her arms. she freezes around you.

she pulls away stiffly, avoiding your gaze.

"s-sorry. my emotions got the best of me." she mumbles, still clutching slayer to her chest. you smile.

"i haven't been hugged in a while, it was nice. wasn't expecting it, is all." you say. the woman blinks at you.

"i'm sevika." she says, reaching forward to shake your hand. you smile and shake it back, introducing yourself. "do you-- i have some cash, if you want a reward." she says. you laugh.

"oh, god no, i'm just happy to make you two happy." you say.

sevika blinks at you, studying you. then, the exhaustion in her body language evaporates, a cool, calm demeanor taking over as she looks you up and down.

"well..." she says, turning around to put slayer down in her apartment. "at least let me take you to dinner as a thank you." she says.

you blink at the woman, a smile creeping up your lips.

"depends." you say. she raises an eyebrow at you and you shrug. "is it a 'thank you' dinner or is it a date?" you ask.

sevika stiffens, then smiles.

"whatever you'd prefer." she says.

you laugh, then pull your phone out of your back pocket, opening a new contact and handing it to sevika.

"give me your number." you say. "i'll text you, for our date." you say.

sevika grins, and snatches your phone out of your hands.

taglist!

@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika

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sinfully-yoursss · 1 year

Text

how do I tell you?

a/n - based on the songs how do I tell you? and what are we? by lizzy mcalpine. it's angsty-ish? idk

It was a love that burned bright and fast. Everything felt right. At least for her it did. When he had answered the door, she could see this look in his eyes that told her it was the end. She knew that the traveling was hard on their new relationship. She just wished there was something she could do to prove to him that this was worth it. Prove to him that she was worth the heartache and pain that came with moving on too fast.

“Given the circumstances, I guess I can’t ask you to stay?” Tears pooled in her eyes as she stared at who she was certain was the love of her life.

She solemnly looked over to Lando who was sat on the other end of the couch, his gaze only on the floor.

“I would get it if you decided to walk away.” As she looked down, the tears began to fall. “All my life, I’ve been looking for this. It just seems fitting that as soon as things fall into place, it all goes to hell.”

She wasn’t trying to hurt him, just make him understand.

“I don’t think we’re wasting time, but if you do, I’m sorry.” She stood from the couch, kneeling down in front of Lando. “I can see a life with you, but if you can’t, I’m sorry. If four months mean nothing, and if none of it counts for something then I’m sorry. If spending every night in your bed has no meaning, then what are we? It’s all just a sorry excuse for love.”

She stood from him, making her way to the door. As she neared, she spared one last look at the man destroying her world.

“Lately, the world has felt like it’s ending, so I don’t ask for too much. I’ve found that I’m pretending to be okay with too much. All my life, I’ve been looking for this. It’s really funny that things go to hell, now that I’ve found it.”

Lando looked up at her, tears streaming down his face.

“I don’t think we’re wasting time, but if you do, I’m sorry. I can see a life with you, but if you can’t, I’m sorry. If four months mean nothing, and if none of it counts for something then I’m sorry. If spending every night in your bed has no meaning, then what are we? It’s all just a sorry excuse for love.”

Just as she put her hand on the door knob, Lando finally spoke.

“I’m a little scared of being someone that you’re scared to love.” She turned suddenly, surprised at the words. “But, you don’t talk the way she did and you don’t say the things she said. I’m not who I was back then. I’ve been scared to speak ‘cause I can’t find the words to say. You don’t play the games she did, and you don’t make me feel like shit. My mom even likes you more than her, but still.”

She moved away from the door, walking back towards the couch.

“How do I tell you that I've come to like the pain? How do I tell you that I don't know what it means to be happy with somebody. I don't know anything about that. How do I tell you that I got it from her?”

Lando stood, walking towards her. “I'm a little prone to feel a little overwhelmed with it all, because you are someone I want to know, and I hope that you don't let me fall. You make sure I get home safe, and you always know what to say, and I feel like I've found my place, but still.”

“You know I never want this to end. You are my person, my safe place.”

Lando leaned forward, kissing her with everything he had. Once he broke the kiss, he leaned his forehead against hers.

“I don’t think we’re wasting time because I can see a life with you. These last four months have meant everything to me. Waking up to you every morning is something I could do for the rest of my life. You count for everything because you are my everything. None of this has been a sorry excuse because I love you.”

They stood in a gentle quietness for what felt like hours, holding each other, too afraid to let the other go. Every so often, one would place a kiss on the other showing a sign of love and understanding.

Not wanting to break the silence, she whispered. “I’m sorry she left you feeling so broken.”

“I’m sorry you felt like the world was ending. I can’t promise it will be soon, but you are it for me. You are the person I want to spend the rest of my life with. The person I want to heal with.”

“I’d like that.” She tearfully smiled at him, knowing they would be okay.

#lando norris angst #lando norris x reader #ln4 #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #f1 #f1 x reader #mclaren #mclaren f1

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artiststarme · 2 years

Text

What If Steve Were To Leave Hawkins? Part 14

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

Just a few more parts! Thank you to everyone for reading and sticking around. This is a soft part so I hope you guys enjoy it! Next, Steve and Eddie are going to be back in Hawkins.

~*~*~*~

Steve wakes up to Eddie’s arms clinging to his waist and his hair in his mouth. He takes a moment to appreciate the view. Eddie’s lying with the blanket pooling below his shirtless chest, hair askew, and mouth open, releasing soundless snores. The scars from the demobats are noticeable and prominent on his pale skin. But, scars and all, Eddie looked beautiful in the morning light sifting through the windows.

Steve could stay in bed for the rest of life with this as his view. And he was the most comfortable he had ever felt. The sheets were cool against the warmth of the bed and with Eddie’s arms encircling him, Steve felt a warmth he had never before experienced.

He must have spent an hour just laying in bed with Eddie, watching him sleep. He cataloged the way his eyelashes rested against his cheeks, the way his scars accentuated his wiry frame, and the way the blackness of his tattoos contrasted the paleness of his skin. But alas, his bladder protested and Steve moved to escape Eddie’s embrace. He made his way to the adjoining bathroom to relieve himself and brush his teeth. When he entered the room once more, Eddie was awake and pouting.

“Where’d you go? I want cuddles,” he pouted and made grabby hands pathetically towards Steve.

Steve chuckled as he returned to his position underneath the covers. Eddie immediately wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist like an octopus and drew him in closer. He hummed in contentment and nuzzled his nose against Steve’s shoulder, placing a gentle kiss upon the bare skin.

Steve kissed the top of his head in response. “Good morning, babe. What do you want to do today? I’m free until my shift starts at three.”

He watched Eddie think for a minute. “Let’s just stay in. I just want to enjoy being with you.”

“Are you sure? Laying here with me isn’t going to be fun for you. We could go to the riverwalk or something we haven’t done yet,” Steve offered.

“Stevie, baby. Look, you have been going out of your way to make sure I had fun since I got here. We don’t have to keep doing extravagant activities, I’m happy as long as I’m with you. So today, let’s just lay in bed talking and making out until your shift. Deal?” He asked imploringly, his brown eyes twinkling with honest affection.

Steve nodded and smiled a soft grin, “that sounds perfect, Eds.”

Eddie let a smile cover his own face, “good. So, you really want me to move in with you?”

Steve scoffed at the ridiculousness of the question, “of course I do. You think I wouldn’t want to wake up to my sexy boyfriend holding onto me every morning? You already agreed to move in, you can’t back out now.”

As usual, Eddie attempted to hide his blush by pulling his hair in front of his face and deflecting with humor. “Careful Stevie, you’re sounding a little gay there.”

He rolled his eyes, “Whatever man, bite me.”

In his defense, he often told the kids to bite him whenever they disagreed with something he said. He didn’t expect for Eddie to actually bite him like some sort of rabid squirrel.

“Holy fucking shit, Eddie! What the hell was that?” He shrieked while rubbing his right pec where the bite mark was indented in his skin.

“It’s not my fault you look so damn biteable! How could I not?” Eddie defended himself. He bumped Steve’s hand out of the way and dropped a small kiss on the reddened skin. Then he moved on in the conversation, seemingly considering this issue resolved. “I think I’m going to go back to the record store today and fill out an application. The guy said they were looking for somebody.”

“That’s a great idea! You know a lot about music. Are you going to join his band too?” Steve asked.

Eddie shrugged, “I don’t know. I’d have to meet with them to see if we mesh. I’d like to play again though, even if it’s not with Corroded Coffin.”

After the Spring Break from hell and the beatdown that the other band members received on Eddie’s behalf, they had unanimously decided to go their separate ways. Eddie felt guilty and the others wanted to appease their parents by putting some distance between themselves and the ‘Satan worshiper’ that caused the problem in the first place.

“Hey, I’m sure it’ll go great. He seemed really impressed that you could play that song by the metal guys, right? You’ve already got a shoe in!” Steve reassured him, punctuating his words with a firm pat on the shoulder.

“Master of Puppets by Metallica but yeah, you’re right. And they don’t know me as the guy who might’ve gone on a killing spree fueled by Satan so that’ll probably score me some points,” Eddie said sardonically, obviously still bothered by the abandonment of his past bandmates and ex-friends.

“Exactly! They’re going to love you. You’re passionate and smart. And you play guitar really well! What’s not to love?” Steve told him, looking into his big eyes earnestly.

Steve knew he said the right thing when Eddie engaged him in a deep kiss. Good thing they didn’t have to be anywhere any time soon.

~*~*~*~

“Hey El, a few days ago when you compared Steve looking at Eddie to Hopper looking at Joyce, what did you mean?” Max asked her while the Party lounged around the Byers’ TV with The Goonies playing in the background.

El thought for a moment, “Steve looks at Eddie like he loves him. Like there is nothing else he would rather be looking at. Just like how my dad looks at Joyce.”

Mike did not appreciate what she was implying, “you’re saying that they’re in love? Like they’re dating? There’s no way, El. They’re both dudes so they can’t love each other. You must be wrong.”

Max, always ready to argue with Mike, whipped her head around towards him. “They absolutely can! Why can’t two guys love each other? Love is love, Mike. Get with the times.”

Mike sputtered, “Loving another guy is wrong! There is no way that they’re gay. We would know.”

Max noticed how Will flinched and saw El move to hold his hand. “Loving someone is never wrong, dumbass. And we won’t know for sure until they tell us. Which they won’t if they know you’re a homophobic dickhead.”

Mike shrunk, ashamed that his opinion had upset the others. “I’m sorry. It’s just… Why Steve? Even if Eddie is gay, why does he have to like my sister’s ex?”

Dustin looked confused at the direction the conversation was taking but came to Steve’s defense regardless. “Hey! Steve is a catch, he’s dated half the girls in Hawkins. Okay, why wouldn’t Eddie date him?”

“Hey, I don’t care who they date as long as they’re happy,” Lucas added, ever the pacifist.

“Look, I’m not surprised Eddie is interested in Steve. Have you seen him shirtless?” Max pointed out. “I have and it was a glorious experience.”

Will nodded in agreement before realizing his mistake and blushing. Thankfully, the other kids ignored him and continued their bickering. He was happy that the older boys had each other to love and support. He could only hope that one day, he could find someone to do the same for him.

Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20: Epilogue

Updated Taglist: @nickavalens @conversesweetheart @themostunoriginalpersonever @swimmingbirdrunningrock @eddiethegreatteddybear @harrumphingtons @call-me-big-eyes @moonshadows-13 @glittergluekintsugi @cpidcupk @doubleb11 @mentalcyborg @amoris-no-smut-allowed @purple-lemonade @labels-are-for-the-weak @thebrazilianatheist @rajumat @livelaughlexa @5ammi90 @colorful565 @marvelousforlife @chaoticcoffeequeen @gregre369 @suddenlyinlove @thegreatmistake @stillfullofshit @nburkhardt @batxsignalsx @newunknowns @thosemessyvibes @tailsfromthecrypt @luciana-rowan @bird-with-pencils @adaed5 @lolawon @flustratedcas @iwillfindmyneverland @messrs-weasley @skoomy-doompy @yearningagain @forest-fogg @bitchysunflower @stardust-era @newtstabber @bobatrash-queen @notjasontxdd @ohlook-afrog @00biscuit @grtwdsmwhr @oxidantdreamboat @the-witch-forever-lives @estrellami-1 @whatthemeepever @a-simple-gaywitch @imzadidragonfly @freddykicksasses @krimsonsimp @whatthefuccck @delta-piscium @anaibis @tinynebula

@darkwitchoferie @evix-syne666 @tawghasa @pyrohonk @lillys-weird-world @superduckmilkshake @paintsplatteredandimperfect @tiny-enthusiast @whalesharksart @krazyperson @username-i-guess @ilikechocolatemilkh

#I can't believe we're so close to the end!#Steve and Eddie being happy in Chicago just hits different #look at the kids being allies #Mike is misinformed but he'll come around #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #dustin henderson #steddie #fanfic #mike wheeler #max mayfield #lucas sinclair

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feverishly-kpop · 1 year

Text

Yeosang & Ateez - Under the Weather

Yeosang was miserable. Beyond miserable. And he was alone.

Logically he understood that coming down with something the day that they were set to begin filming their new variety show meant that he’d have to stay behind while the others went to work. But, given the state of fog his brain was in, Yeosang couldn’t help but feel a little bitter about being left by himself.

Yeosang had been in and out of consciousness all day after waking up that morning feeling like he had been hit by a bus. He vaguely remembered hearing Yunho on the phone with Seonghwa but he hadn’t been able to make out exactly what they were talking about. He picked up a few words here and there, like “exhausted,” “nauseous,” and “overworked.”

“Stop talking about me” Yeosang muttered under his breath to nobody but himself before pulling the edges of his blankets in closer, trying to will himself to stay awake until Yunho was off the phone. He wasn’t entirely successful.

After a few minutes Yeosang was roused by Yunho knocking on his door.

“I have to go,” Yunho said sadly, looking down at his feet. “Seonghwa-hyung wants you to stay in bed and he said he’ll come over and check on you once we are done with filming.”

Yeosang didn’t respond, only turning his back toward Yunho. Yunho sighed, feeling guilty about having to leave Yeosang alone in his condition.

“I’m sorry somebody can’t stay with you” Yunho added. “Is there anything I can get you before I leave?” Yeosang shook his head but, once again, said nothing.

*~*~*~*~*~

After a few hours of restless sleep Yeosang woke to the sound of keys rattling and the apartment door opening. Assuming that filming was finished and Yunho was home Yeosang closed his eyes again, hoping to get a few more minutes of sleep before Seonghwa stopped by to check up on him. He was surprised, however, when he heard his bedroom door open and the sound of soft footsteps approaching. Without a word he felt the side of his bed dip down behind him and a warm body getting comfortable under the covers with him.

Typically Yeosang wasn’t very fond of skinship or cuddling, but he had to admit that the extra warmth felt amazing. He had been bitterly cold all day, no matter how many blankets he piled on top of himself.

“What are you doing here, Wooyoung?” Yeosang asked, not even having to look over his shoulder to know who had joined him. “Is filming done?”

“No, they’re still filming. Probably for a few more hours. But I told Seonghwa-hyung that I was feeling sick and Hongjoong sent me home” Wooyoung responded in a matter of fact tone as he snuggled in closer to Yeosang.

“Shit, Woo, did I get you sick? Are you sick to your stomach? We can get you some medication…” Yeosang started before being interrupted.

“I’m not actually sick, Sang” Wooyoung interjected. “I just felt bad that you were here all alone. So I just…pretended. Maybe I should audition for a drama…”

Yeosang laughed for a second before his laugh turned into a cough.

“You’re shivering” Wooyoung said sadly after Yeosang’s cough had passed. He quickly disentangled himself from Yeosang and got out of bed before returning with another blanket.

“Did you just take that from Yunho’s bed?” Yeosang asked, already knowing the answer.

“It’s fine, he doesn’t need it right now” Wooyoung replied, draping the blanket over Yeosang and climbing back into bed, once again wrapping himself around Yeosang.

Yeosang instantly relaxed, the extra warmth and the presence of his friend providing enough comfort for him to fall asleep again.

“Hey Sangie” Wooyoung whispered Yeosang’s ear just before he was about to doze off. “If hyungs ask, I was really sick when I got back, okay? Burning up. Throwing up. All of it.”

Yeosang smiled and nodded. If he had to lie to have his friend there to take care of him when he was feeling sick, Yeosang had no problem with it.

#kpop sickfic #kpop fluff #sickfic #ateez fluff #ateez sickfic #sick yeosang #yeosang sickfic #yeosang fluff #sick ficlet

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carelessflower · 1 year

Text

angel for angel

The music blazed around them, people lost in the feel, in their heartbeats, in others.

"So, spill it." Izzy took another sip of her cocktail. "What's made you suddenly change your mind, dear brother? And to this specific place." She eyed Alec and took in every changing detail on his face. It wasn't that Angel was a bad club, it was quite the opposite. The design took guests from one level of amazement to the other, classy yet sensual, the lights shone like galaxies.

She was very much surprised she hadn't heard of this club before, yet her what-a-party-can't-we-just-stay-home brother did.

"I just feel like changing the air for a while." Alec tugged on his black shirt's sleeve, probably the tightest piece in his closet. He's made an effort in his appearance overall, the black leather pants that were buried deeper than their mom's wine collection were finally brought to use. Izzy would be impressed with her brother if she didn't catch how he constantly looked at some scene behind him.

"Are you gonna go talk to him or continue acting like a creep?" Of fucking course it was Magnus that got her brother possessed and illogical. Who else?

"I can't, Izzy. He didn't want to see me." Alec looked miserable. Izzy hated it. Hated all of this. She hated that it happened. She hated how she couldn't blame it entirely on Magnus for the breakup, or that he broke her brother's heart.

Magnus was dancing with somebody, even from a distance, she could feel the energy radiating from him, that spark no one could resist. He was enjoying himself, at least. It had been half a year or so, there was more in life than one's broken heart, Izzy knew that from experience.

She sighed.

Alec needed a distraction, cornering him into a wall would only lead to him closing off again. At least, not today.

"Look at your face, Alec. Raziel, I thought they banned misery at the club. Tell you what, I'll call Jace here, we're gonna get shit-faced, wake up with a joint headache tomorrow and hear Mom complain for three hours. Deal?"

Alec smiled lightly. It wasn't big, but it was a hopeful start. "Deal."

—

Izzy came back to her brother missing. She was nearly at her breaking point.

"Jace, do you feel Alec is in danger?"

"No?" Jace scrunched his eyebrows. "He is warm...and fuzzy? Not quite drunk either, just really excited."

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She turned it on and read the most recent notification. I'm leaving. You and Jace have a fun night. Don't worry about me.

Well, that was most definitely the best way to make people stop worrying.

"Should we track him?" Jace was already ready with his stele.

"Let him be," Izzy said. Maybe Alec needed more time for himself. "We'll intervene if he gets caught in trouble."

The next morning came, and Alec still hadn't come back. Despite Jace's attempt at assuring her that Alec was absolutely better than fine and probably the happiest he had been in a while, Izzy felt the need to call him for confirmation.

One long pause.

Two long pauses.

"Huh— hello? Izzy? Did something happen?"

"No, everything is fine." She paused for a moment. "Where are you Alec? You totally bailed on us last night."

"Oh shit, I'm so sorry. Something came up and hey—" Alec was ...laughing? What the fuck? "Magnus! Stop it! Control yourself, I'm talking—" On the other line, it sounded like the phone had fallen somewhere. Perhaps Magnus's bed.

She needed some time to take all of this in first.

Alec picked up again, the joy was undeniable in his tone. "Ugh, so sorry for that. My company has no manners." Izzy could practically feel how they were looking at each other right now.

She calmed herself down. "I don't care when you're coming back. I want a detailed report on whatever went down, or else Church might find new chew toys in your closet. Understood?"

"Fine."

"And tell Magnus I say hi."

"I will—" The line cut off.

"What happened?" Jace asked. "And why you're smiling?"

"Fate finds its way somehow." Izzy rolled her eyes but she knew how happy she was. Magnus left Angel with an angel in his arms. They were so ridiculous.

for @malectober day 1 prompt angel

#malec #malectober #alec lightwood #magnus bane #shadowhunters #tmi #tsc #the mortal instruments #the shadowhunter chronicles #anh writes stuff #this take kinda longer than i expected

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lolamarlowe65 · 2 years

Text

𝓘𝓷 𝓶𝔂 𝓯𝓮𝓮𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 //James Hetfield

“The house next door was just sold, i hope the new neighbour will be nice.”

part one of ?

disclaimers: smut, age gap (modern day james), slow burn shit, cursing, smoking, probably drinking, anyway kids go back to mama. (warnings will be more specific when smut will be there)

/!\ This story is a remake of a fanfic i found on wattpad called “James Hetfield, My New Neighbour” that hasn’t been updated since 2017. I just used it as an inspiration but i changed basically everything. Just saying so it doesn’t look like i take credit for shit that isn’t mine. But the whole thing is changed, just took it as a base. /!\

Wattpad link

࿓ 𓋪・𖧹 𖤐

Chapter 1 - Open House

7:00 am. My alarm went off.

I was unable to sleep all night. My eyes are dried up from all the wasted tears that kept rolling all night long along my cheeks. I "sleep" but I don't rest. I must have waited a minute before turning my alarm off. Unhappy and disappointed to start a new day.

I reached for my phone on my nightstand to turn my alarm off and wander around social media to push back even more the moment I will have to wake up. I got up and took out some pants from a cardboard box and a shirt from my dresser. An old dresser that screams in pain anytime I just throw away my clothes in it. Cardboard boxes tired of holding in my stuff since two weeks.

I moved in with my grandmother two weeks ago. I couldn't be by myself, her either. I don't know if I'm taking care of her or if she takes care of me the most. We need each other. And I end up using her care as an excuse for not having the time to put away my stuff, while in truth I just don't have the motivation. Every time I try I just think about her...

I lost my mom from cancer. She recently passed away. I think about her all the time. I don't know if I will be able to ever love somebody new. In whatever way... it's just... it's just... too hard.

I got out of the shower and got ready to work at the pharmacy. After fixing my hair and making them look even more messy than they were before. (It looks like one of those 80s dude... what was his name again? Oh Axl Rose! I think he had those back in the time. But what do I know, I'm not into that.) Anyway, just know that I didn't do it on purpose. It'd be uglier if I did.

After my excessive use of self deprecating humour I lose my quick sarcastic smile to go and wake my grandmother up. She's in her room waiting for me to give her her medicine. No cancer. Arthritis. But whatever it was, she was still the second most important and the last person I had in my life. And it hurts me.

"- Grandma." i whisper.

"- Grandma, time to wake up. And to take your medicine, oh and breakfast too. You need to eat that." i said, a bit overwhelmed.

Her eyes slowly opened and she looked at me. She put her hand on my cheek and she says :

"- Your mother was like you, always running around to be sure she doesn't forget something. You look so much like her dear."

I chuckled softly and I was happy to be reminded of this sweet part of my mother.

"- Haha! Good morning grandma." i said, kissing her cheek.

"- You need to get up, Stacy's gonna be there in a minute." i then proceeded.

"- Oh yeah you're right! I'm sure Stacy is going to be jealous of my nightgown if she sees it." she laughed.

"- Of course she is, who wouldn't?" i laughed too.

We continued on getting her prepared trying to have a light witty conversation as we used to. It didn't feel the same without my mother around but it felt peaceful. She would love this.

Stacy is a nurse who takes care of my grandma since my grandpa passed away when I was 14. He was the only man of my life. My father has never been in the picture. He was my true father. Stacy takes such good care of her since he's gone. She might be a little bit older than me but she is still my best friend. I have very few friends, but she is the best i've ever had.

Meanwhile I took my grandmother to her chair in the living room. She loved to watch old shows on her vintage tv. She stops on a sitcom my mother used to watch when she was little. It makes her laugh and smile. It makes me a little sad but I don't care as long as my grandma is happy.

*knock knock*

I looked over at the door.

"- Oh! She must be here grandma. I'm gonna be late for work anyway. See you after work, I love you!" i said, kissing her forehead.

"- Ok sweetheart. I love you too." she said holding my hand lovingly.

She held my hand like this for a second and finally let go. I make my way to the door and open it.

"- Good morning Stacy!" i said, her and i handshaking.

"- Good morning girl!" she replied.

I let her walk in with a bag of stuff my grandma likes.

"- I haven't given her her medicine yet but she still has time." i told her, pressed.

"- Don't worry girl! I'll be taking care of her from now on. We're gonna go out for lunch and redo the garden. I know she loves that! Now shoosh! Get your ass to work!" she said jokingly.

"- That's my grandma not yours Stacy." i sticked out my tongue to tease her.

"- Oh no! How will i live now knowing that!" she fakes being shot in the heart. "Anyway, have a good day Ann!"

"- You two have a good day! I'll be back around 6pm." i said before walking out the door.

Next door on the right side of my grandma's house the house there was having an open house. People were coming in and out all looking like they came from money. My grandmother and I are living in a house in L.A that's located, very luckily, in a very high end part of the town. I don't come from money, and I don't think I ever will. Money is even tight at the moment between all the expenses for my mother and my grandmother. But they are necessary and I don't care. We have enough to get through everything. That was all that was important. Still we live in this very good area of L.A. Back in the time, housing was not as expensive as it is today. My great-grandmother bought this house for nothing when she came to the country. Today it still has this early 1940s look but it's clean and beautiful. It's not as big has the ultra modern houses around. But there are other houses like ours. And it makes it look all the more odd. "Los Angeles" some might say. But it's not as ugly as one might think tho. The ultra modern houses populated by rich people that for most of them are giving us looks of disappointment every time they see us are kind of ruining it but the other houses like ours are old family houses. Some only habited in the summer, some by families. I didn't knew much about any of the neighbours around but it was without saying that it was a discreet neighbourhood. On the other hand, the house next to my grandmother's was a mix of both. Big house, very big, but with an old timey feeling. This house was beautiful. But empty. But today it seemed like it was getting sold.

I looked at the house while getting in my car and noticed different couples stopping by.

I hope they'll be nice.

࿓ 𓋪・𖧹 𖤐

A/N : I said it was slow burn shit, dw, our james appears right after. It’s Ann’s pov but i’ll maybe do one of james one day. Smut is coming, that’s my principal reason for writing but i figured some slow burn would make all the delusional bitches (like me) out there crazy. Idk if my writing is good, i do that to get my mind off of stuff, sorry if you don’t like it. Chapter 2 is already done, i’ll get it out right after this one. Love yall <33

#james hetfield #james hetfield smut #james hetfield fanfiction #metallica #metallica smut #metallica fanfiction

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pesterloglog · 7 months

Text

Jade Harley, Karkat Vantas, Dave Strider, Roxy Lalonde

Page 99-105

JADE: the prince’s power grows.

KARKAT: JESUS CHRIST!

JADE: i feel him resonate through the void.

KARKAT: FUCKING GREAT.

DAVE: dude can you chill for like even a single fucking second

DAVE: also are you ok

KARKAT: OH, PARDON THE FUCK OUT OF ME FOR OVERREACTING A LITTLE WHEN MY GOOD FRIEND "POSSESSED JADE" BUSTS INTO MY RESPITEBLOCK AT 5 AM!

KARKAT: NEXT TIME I’LL JUST PULL THE COVERS BACK AND LET HER CLIMB IN!

JADE: i am uninterested in that scenario.

KARKAT: GREAT! POSSESSED JADE ISN’T EVEN HORNY! HOW FUCKED UP IS THAT?

KARKAT: HOW DID YOU GET IN HERE?

DAVE: yeah i may be totally misunderstanding the intricacies of "next gen technology" designed by an idiot in microshorts

DAVE: but im pretty sure i locked that door

JADE: i unlocked it with my mind.

DAVE: fuck

KARKAT: FANTASTIC.

JADE: the prince’s powers are growing, but so are mine.

KARKAT: WOW? COOL? AND YOU HAD TO COME IN HERE AT THE ASSCRACK OF THE MORNING TO TELL US THIS?

KARKAT: LIKE YOU DON’T FLOAT AROUND LIKE A CREEPY PIECE OF SHIT ALL DAY AS IT IS?

JADE: ...

KARKAT: OH, IS THAT ALL? NOTHING ELSE TO SAY?

DAVE: karkat its fine

DAVE: who cares

KARKAT: YEAH. YOU’RE RIGHT.

KARKAT: IT’S NOT LIKE WE ACTUALLY HAVE ANYTHING TO WAKE UP FOR.

KARKAT: GO BACK TO BED.

DAVE: no dude im up fuck it

DAVE: i want coffee

KARKAT: FUCK! FINE! FUCK IT.

KARKAT: I NEED TO USE THE GAPER ANYWAY.

DAVE: oh me too

KARKAT: DON’T FOLLOW ME.

ROXY: oh what up

ROXY: its a whole ass pajama party up in here

ROXY: couldnt sleep??

KARKAT: JADE WOKE US UP BY BEING CREEPY.

ROXY: oh

ROXY: jade why did u do that

KARKAT: WHAT?

KARKAT: OH SHIT, THERE SHE IS! I DIDN’T EVEN HEAR HER FOLLOW US!

ROXY: sometimes a girls just got to get her drift on i guess

ROXY: it be like that

KARKAT: I PREFERRED WHEN ALL SHE DID WAS FLOAT AROUND AND POINT AT SHIT.

KARKAT: AT LEAST THAT WAS QUIET.

DAVE: yall want coffee

ROXY: sure

KARKAT: YEAH, THANKS.

DAVE: hate to give it up to venture capitalism but this coffee is EONS better than the garbage we had on the meteor

DAVE: this ship is maybe the dumbest thing ive ever looked at but its a give and take right

ROXY: maybe u just developed a taste for it

ROXY: i used to think coffee tasted like ass but drinkin it was another thing i felt like my mom woulda done

ROXY: turns out rose drinks tea and i stockholmed my own dumb butt into liking this addictive bean juice

ROXY: well i mean who knows what she drinks now

ROXY: dirk probs tossed the coffee machine out the space window right away

ROXY: dude doesnt "believe" in "substances"

KARKAT: WHY ARE YOU UP ANYWAY?

ROXY: well i wasnt but then somebody screamed like a rooster boned a teapot and had a noisy lovechild

DAVE: yeah thats basically accurate

KARKAT: FUCK YOU.

DAVE: maybe if youre lucky

KARKAT: THAT JOKE STOPS BEING FUNNY WHEN WE’VE ACTUALLY

KARKAT: UH

KARKAT: IS THERE MILK?

ROXY: lmao

ROXY: in the fridge

DAVE: wheres kanaya

ROXY: idk

ROXY: sleepin i hope

ROXY: last time i saw her she was on the second floor

ROXY: no

ROXY: the third floor observation deck

ROXY: this place is huge

KARKAT: PLEASE.

KARKAT: IT’S MAYBE A TENTH THE SIZE OF THE METEOR.

DAVE: yeah dude but that was basically a city

DAVE: this is more like a castle

DAVE: a castle of idk

DAVE: twenty something ennui

ROXY: anybody hungry

ROXY: i was thinkin about alchemizing some pancakes

ROXY: or maybe eggs

ROXY: they all basically taste the same at the end of the day i think alchemized food is like eighty percent imagination

ROXY: but both of you barely eat and its making me anxious

DAVE: damn thanks mom

DAVE: i mean

DAVE: shit

DAVE: dad

DAVE: roxy

DAVE: fuck sorry im tired

ROXY: haha its ok

ROXY: dont worry about it

DAVE: okay but just because our relatives turned evil doesnt mean we have to act like total animals

DAVE: we can still try to respect each others identities and shit

DAVE: anyway im gonna go check on kanaya

DAVE: possessed jade dont follow me

JADE: i am fine where i am.

DAVE: cool

#homestuck #homestuck^2 #jade harley #karkat vantas #dave strider #roxy lalonde #homestuck^2 act 1 #page 99 #page 100 #page 101 #page 102 #page 103 #page 104 #page 105 #alt calliope

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footballerimaginess · 2 years

Text

Faking It

Chapter Three

credit to @goalkepa for the gif! Word Count: 994 Previous chapter here After being dropped off at home, you chucked your suitcase on the floor. Flopping straight on the sofa where you needed to relax. You felt your phone vibrating in your pocket. It was from a number you didn’t recognise, you answered it anyway as it could be someone important.

“Hello?” you hesitated as you spoke on the phone. “Hey, it’s Mason. I got your number from my agent. I hope that’s okay, I know we didn’t get off to the best of starts. But I was wondering, if you wanted to meet up. Like a date?” he asked you. “Hi, yeah that sounds cool. Text me the details or whenever you are free. Speak soon” you mumbled as you tried to stop yourself from yawning. “Will do, see you soon” you smiled as you put the phone down. As soon as you ended the call you felt your eyes slowly drift off to sleep and that was where you slept all night until you woke up the very next morning. Waking up with your mascara down your face and still in the same clothes as the night before. “Shit” you mumbled as you picked yourself up and jumped in the shower. As you come out of the shower with your hair in a towel as you freshly washed it, another towel wrapped around your body as you sat on the bed as you read the text message from Mason. Sending you details for your date later on this evening. “Fuck sake” you mumbled as you saw the time, realising that you only had a few hours to get ready and make yourself look somewhat presentable. You rushed to go and get changed and did your makeup. Looking in the mirror and finding a casual outfit, you weren’t too sure where you were going or what the vibe was going to be like. Throwing outfits on the bed in hope you were getting some outfit inspiration. You heard your phone buzz again while it was on the side charging. “Who now?” you moaned as you rushed to see who it was. “Hi, sorry to bother you. But I thought that we could just have a fun date, I will pick you up from yours or shall we meet somewhere else?” Mason asked you. “Hi, that sounds like a good idea. You can pick me up if that’s okay? I will message you where my apartment block is ”you replied. “Okay, see you soon” he smiled as you put the phone down while you got ready.

You slightly curled your hair slightly before heading downstairs to wait outside the apartment. As you watched the car pulling up near you. “Hi” you smiled as you opened the door as you sat down in the car. “Hello, I love that outfit” you smiled as you blushed. “Aww thank you” you replied. Mason drove to your date destination. “So we are going to play mini golf ”he smiled as he pulled up to the parking space. “Oh that is cool, I haven’t played this for years” you laughed. “So game on, huh?” Mason smirked as he passed the golf club and ball. “Game on” you laughed as you had your first go. You putted the ball in only 2 go’s, much to Mason’s annoyance as he hoped you were going to be a lot worse than that. “Why the face? Is somebody annoyed that I was pretty good ”you teased. “Face? what face? Don’t be so cocky after your only first go” Mason moaned as he took his go. “A hole in one” the smug look appeared on Mason’s face as you rolled your eyes. “Nobody like’s an arrogant prick Mase” you smirked. “Mm, judging by that smile appearing on ya face. I imagine you very much like an arrogant prick vibe” he walked over as he leaned in and tried to kiss you on the lips as you swerved away from him. “You gotta have a lot of work to do before I even think about kissing you Mr Mount” you winked as you span around avoiding his grip. “Oh do I now? Hmm guess I will have to work on it” he laughed as he mocked you. “Shall we finish this game up and maybe head for a drink?” he asked as he putted the ball in one hole yet again. “I like that, yes” you smiled as Mason counted up his tally on the scorecard. “Looks like I am the winner here” Mason smugly announced. “Suppose” you grunted as you handed him your golf club and ball. “I enjoyed that ”Mason smugly replied. “Of course you did, because you won” you giggled as you walked out of mini golf. “So want to head in here? grab a bite to eat too” he suggested as you nodded in agreement. The bar was quiet and that was good, you were slightly nervous about being in a public place. “This okay?” he asked as you sat down on the stool. You glanced through the menu, having a slightly weird nervous feeling in your tummy settling in. “You okay?” Mason asked, noticing you hadn’t spoken since you walked in the bar. “I am just a bit nervous” you muttered as Mason had a puzzled expression appear on his face. “Nervous? why?” he asked, not really understanding your feelings. “This, us. The whole thing, I just feel a bit nervous. I need to go Mase, before someone sees us. I need to go” you quickly got off of your stool and ran out of the bar, hoping nobody saw the two of you together. Letting your emotions get the better of you, you couldn’t handle being out in public with him. Being at golf was perfect as it felt like just you, but being in an environment with people around who would recognise Mason absolutely petrified you. Was this scenario going to work out? Was your mind going to let you? Taglist: @footballffbarbiex @penguintransporter @footballxixstars @football-and-fanfics @odegaardsblues Faking It tags - @shannon-jade-99 @unicornblueberry @laurasstufff1 @sessgjarg @noytroy let me know if you wish to be tagged in future chapters & feedback is very welcome!

#faking it #mason mount imagine #mason mount story #mason mount x reader #football imagines #football imagine #football one shot #football one shots #futbol imagines #futbol imagine #football story

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bloody-bee-tea · 2 years

Text

Breakfast in Bed

Jiang Cheng is on his way back to the apartment, bag with breakfast food secure in his hand and he’s rushing it a bit, he knows it, but he wants to get back home before Nie Mingjue wakes up.

He left him warm and cozy in bed and that is exactly where Jiang Cheng hopes to find him on his return because he decided on a whim that today is a breakfast in bed kind of day and if Nie Mingjue should get up before Jiang Cheng is back then that would ruin his entire plan.

So hurrying it is.

He’s just checking his phone, relieved to see that Nie Mingjue hasn’t yet written him, thus making Jiang Cheng believe that he’s still slumbering on, when he runs into somebody.

“Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry,” Jiang Cheng breathes out, momentarily relieved that neither he nor the other person fell down before he raises his glance towards them. “Oh.”

“Wanyin,” Lan Xichen whispers, clearly shocked to see him here and Lan Wangji is glaring at him like always.

“Xichen, Wangji, good to see you,” Jiang Cheng says, even though it’s anything but especially at the moment when he has other places to be.

But of course he would run into someone he knows right now.

“I didn’t know you were back yet,” Lan Xichen says, clearly completely taken off guard by Jiang Wanyin’s presence and Jiang Cheng refuses to feel bad about that.

Nie Mingjue and he decided to keep their return quiet for now to give themselves some time to settle back into their life here and it had been nice to have some time for the two of them.

Besides—

“Has Wei Wuxian not said anything to you?” Jiang Cheng asks Lan Wangji, who is still glaring at him.

“We don’t talk about trivial things,” Lan Wangji gives back and it’s just so him that it startles a laugh out of Jiang Cheng.

“Yeah, right. But Wei Wuxian knows I’m back—hell, he helped with moving in, so I don’t see why he didn’t tell you. I’m back though,” he finishes with a shrug and then promptly curses when his phone rings.

And of course the display shows Nie Mingjue’s name.

“Excuse me,” Jiang Cheng says to Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji before he accepts the call. “My soul?”

“You’re not here,” Nie Mingjue whines, his voice still rough from sleep and Jiang Cheng can’t help the soft smile on his face. “I wake up and you’re not here.”

“I’m on my way back, alright?” Jiang Cheng says though he knows it’s hardly enough of an explanation.

“Were did you go, though? The bed is empty and cold.”

“I thought that today is a breakfast in bed kind of day, alright? So I quickly went out to get some things. You just stay right where you are and before you know it, I’ll be back.”

Nie Mingjue makes an unintelligent sound and Jiang Cheng loves him even more for how much of a morning person he’s not.

“Five more minutes. Can you stay in bed for that long?” he wants to know and he decides to take Nie Mingjue’s grumbling as consent. “I’ll hurry. I love you, my soul.”

“Love you, too, my heart,” Nie Mingjue says, clearly awake enough for that but Jiang Cheng is betting all his money on the fact that he’s asleep again before he even properly hung up.

“I really do have to go now,” Jiang Cheng says to Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji who have been watching him the entire time during that exchange, their faces varying from shocked to outrage, which Jiang Cheng finds uncalled for. He has seen Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian get up to worse shit than a simple love confession. “I guess I’ll see you around.”

He waves shortly to them before he simply walks past.

Nie Mingjue and Jiang Cheng really didn’t make a big secret out of their return back home but it had been kind of nice to be back without that many people knowing. It meant that they got to enjoy their time together a bit more and re-familiarize themselves with the city. It had been five years after all, at least for Jiang Cheng. It has been three for Nie Mingjue and a lot can change in a few years.

“Have a nice day,” Jiang Cheng still calls over his shoulder as he walks away, unwilling to be impolite to Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji even though Lan Wangji at least would have deserved it with how he’s still glaring at Jiang Cheng just like he did five years ago.

Lan Xichen at the very least didn’t do anything wrong and Jiang Cheng doesn’t want to risk Lan Qiren hearing anything bad about him.

Lan Qiren had been quite helpful with finding a job far away from the family business for Jiang Cheng and Jiang Cheng will forever be grateful for that.

Jiang Cheng pushes all those thoughts away now and hurries back home, unwilling to let Nie Mingjue wait for him any longer than he really has to. He seems to be still in bed when Jiang Cheng opens the door which is a relief, because breakfast in bed doesn’t quite hit the same if both of them have been up already.

Jiang Cheng only briefly peeks into the bedroom, content to see Nie Mingjue snoring away again before he goes over to the kitchen and gets started on breakfast. They bought a tray a while back for exactly this purpose but so far it hasn’t been used and Jiang Cheng thinks it’s high time by now.

He piles all the things he bought on the tray, listening for the gurgling of the coffee maker and by the time he’s finally ready his own stomach is grumbling.

Jiang Cheng makes his way back to the bedroom, carefully carrying the tray, but once he steps inside he realizes he’ll have to put it down on the ground first. There is no way in hell he’ll manage to wake Nie Mingjue up without upending the entire tray and that is definitely not the cozy, relaxed morning he envisioned for the two of them.

Jiang Cheng bends carefully down to put the tray on the ground before he crawls back into bed with Nie Mingjue.

“My soul,” Jiang Cheng whispers as he noses at the back of Nie Mingjue’s neck, which earns him a disgruntled sound. “Good morning, I brought breakfast,” Jiang Cheng tries again, because maybe that will get Nie Mingjue’s attention.

“No,” Nie Mingjue grumbles, snuggling deeper into the pillow. “You left me alone. Bad Wanyin.”

“Ah, but I only left you alone to bring you breakfast. In bed. How does that sound? Is that enough to make up for it?” Jiang Cheng tries with a smile, because he damn well knows that it’s enough to make up for it.

The coffee alone would have done the trick.

“It sounds as if you went out and left me in a cold bed,” Nie Mingjue still complaints and Jiang Cheng laughs because at this point Nie Mingjue is just teasing him.

“But now I’m back here to warm it up again,” Jiang Cheng whispers and slots his body behind Nie Mingjue’s, slinging his arms around the middle. “Come on, my soul.”

Nie Mingjue lets out a long breath before he slightly turns his head, clearly demanding a kiss that Jiang Cheng is more than happy to bestow upon him.

“Did you use the tray? Does it finally have a reason to exist?”

“Don’t be mean to the tray, it’s not its fault that we didn’t have quite such a quiet morning yet,” Jiang Cheng chides him.

“Mh, true,” Nie Mingjue agrees and finally turns completely around, blinking up at Jiang Cheng. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Jiang Cheng gives back, a sappy smile on his face and he leans down to kiss Nie Mingjue again, morning breath be damned.

“Okay, I have to admit, it’s a good way to wake up. Do I smell coffee?”

“Of course you smell coffee. As if I would wake you without having coffee at the ready,” Jiang Cheng gives back because he knows better by now.

Nie Mingjue is so not a morning person and it’s even worse if he doesn’t have his coffee, Jiang Cheng learned that early on. He’s still looking at that one coffee maker that has a timer on it, simply so he doesn’t always have to get out of bed first to get the coffee started.

Maybe for Nie Mingjue’s birthday.

“Come, sit up and I’ll show you what I brought,” Jiang Cheng says with a small nudge and even though it’s clear that Nie Mingjue wants the coffee he still seems unwilling to move too much.

Jiang Cheng pokes him until he does move though, but he guesses in the end it’s his grumbling stomach that convinces Nie Mingjue to sit up. Jiang Cheng gets out of bed to retrieve the tray, which he carefully settles over Nie Mingjue’s legs before he slides back into bed, careful not to jostle anything.

“Mh, this does look amazing,” Nie Mingjue says though very predictably he reaches for his cup of coffee first. “Did I—call you?” he then unsurely asks and Jiang Cheng bursts out laughing.

He knew that Nie Mingjue was mostly still asleep when that happened but to think that he barely even remembers it is hilarious. His need to complain was so great it surpassed conscious thought.

“You did,” Jiang Cheng answers him once he stopped laughing but going by the confused frown on Nie Mingjue’s face he still only barely remembers. “You were concerned because I was gone. But I’m back now, so it doesn’t matter.”

“Alright,” Nie Mingjue shrugs it off, taking a big sip of his coffee and letting out the most satisfied sigh Jiang Cheng has ever heard him made.

“I met Xichen and Wangji on the way,” Jiang Cheng tells him after he took his own coffee.

“Oh, really? How are they?”

“They seemed good, though—Xichen clearly didn’t know that we are back.”

“What? That can’t be right,” Nie Mingjue mumbles through his mouth full of food. “Wei Wuxian helped us move and Qiren helped you find a job. Xichen should definitely know that we are back.”

“Yeah, I said the same about Wei Wuxian and you want to know what Wangji said?”

Nie Mingjue only raises an expectant eyebrow at him, which Jiang Cheng takes as his cue.

“He said they don’t talk about trivial things.”

Nie Mingjue almost chokes on his mouthful which makes Jiang Cheng laugh again even as he claps on Nie Mingjue’s back to get him to breathe again.

“That is such a Wangji answer,” Nie Mingjue finally wheezes out when he’s no longer in danger of dying and Jiang Cheng has to agree.

It’s even possible that Wei Wuxian did mention that Jiang Cheng is back in town and Lan Wangji simply didn’t pay attention to it because he has never cared about Jiang Cheng. That is more likely than anything else.

They quietly chat about anything and nothing, really, all the while enjoying their breakfast and Jiang Cheng has to admit that it had been one of his better ideas to finally do this, and going by the way Nie Mingjue is all quietly relaxed and almost glowing with happiness, he would totally agree if Jiang Cheng should ask him.

Their peaceful morning is interrupted though when someone knocks on their door.

“Do you expect anyone?” Jiang Cheng asks and Nie Mingjue looks down at the tray over his legs.

“I am still in bed, still in my pajamas and you’re asking if I expect anyone?”

“Okay, alright, I get it,” Jiang Cheng huffs out, lamenting the fact that he has to leave the warm bed behind because it doesn’t seem as if their unwanted guest is going to go away any time soon, not with how the visitor knocks again and Nie Mingjue is clearly disinclined to get up.

“Come back here quick,” Nie Mingjue calls after him and Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes because if anyone would ask him he wouldn’t even have left the warm bed in the first place.

“What?” Jiang Cheng asks rather rudely as he yanks open the door but he blinks in confusion when he comes face to face with Lan Wangji. “Can I help you?” he then asks, struggling to remain civil by reminding himself that this is the love of his brother’s life and he’s not allowed to kill him.

Even if he did interrupt a perfectly relaxing morning just now.

“Brother waited for you,” is what Lan Wangji greets him with and now that makes Jiang Cheng frown even harder.

“Waiting? When? Just now? I wished you a good morning when I left, didn’t I?” he asks, puzzled by what the hell Lan Wangji could mean but going by the way the corner of his mouth ticks down he didn’t get it right.

“When you left. He waited for you to come back.”

“Okay—?” Jiang Cheng still unsurely asks because he went away to study. Everyone knew he would leave for three to five years, depending on how things go.

“I think what Wangji is trying to say is that Xichen apparently is in love with you,” Nie Mingjue suddenly says from behind Jiang Cheng but before he can turn around, Nie Mingjue wraps himself around his back.

“He waited all this time,” Lan Wangji says again and this time it sounds like an accusation.

And that, Jiang Cheng is not going to take.

“So? How the hell could I have known? It’s not as if he said anything.”

“But you’re here now,” Lan Wangji says as if Nie Mingjue isn’t standing right there behind Jiang Cheng, just his pajama pants on, a possessive arm wrapped around his middle.

“And so am I,” Nie Mingjue immediately bites out and Jiang Cheng puts his hand over Nie Mingjue’s, linking their fingers.

Nie Mingjue has the tendencies to get a bit possessive when people show interest in Jiang Cheng and he doesn’t need these two to fight right now.

“I am back with my boyfriend. Who I am living with. I’m sorry, Wangji, but whatever you thought coming here to tell me this would achieve, it’s not working. Now if you would excuse us, we still have a breakfast to get back to.”

“Breakfast in bed,” Nie Mingjue adds with a wolfish grin. “You know how it is sometimes.”

Jiang Cheng tries very hard not to laugh out loud when Lan Wangji goes a little bit green in the face but before he can say anything else, Nie Mingjue already closed the door on him.

“That was rude,” Jiang Cheng chides Nie Mingjue who simply shrugs.

“Just as rude as him coming here to tell you that. They should have gotten a clue when you were on the phone.”

“My soul, Xichen used to be your best friend. Don’t you feel—”

“No,” Nie Mingjue cuts him off and Jiang Cheng falls silent.

He left the city and his family and friends to grow into himself and to get a little bit of distance. Nie Mingjue left after being deeply betrayed by people he thought he could trust. It’s not the same and Jiang Cheng doesn’t like to remind him of it so he doesn’t bring it up again.

“Well, let’s hope Wangji conveys the message. It does explain why he’s always seemed to hate me, though.”

“Xichen never said anything to you. It’s unfair to hate you for something you didn’t even know,” Nie Mingjue shoots back and then falls silent for a moment.

Jiang Cheng knows what he’s going to ask before he even opens his mouth.

“Would it have changed anything? If he said something?”

“Before I went away? Maybe,” Jiang Cheng says with a shrug. “I couldn’t possibly tell anymore, now that I have you.”

“So it’s not something you—”

“If you dare to finish that question then this was the first and last time you get breakfast in bed,” Jiang Cheng threatens him because he will not allow Nie Mingjue to even believe for a second that his affection is so easily swayed.

They worked hard on their relationship for the past three years and they didn’t do it for Nie Mingjue to question it all like this.

“Alright, alright,” Nie Mingjue quickly says and then leans in to steal a kiss. “Going back to bed then?”

“Well, we’ll have to warm it back up again,” Jiang Cheng says with a suggestive eyebrow waggle and he knows he has won when Nie Mingjue laughs.

“I guess we’ll have to. What a hardship,” he agrees and then simply picks Jiang Cheng up to carry him back to the bedroom.

Jiang Cheng laughs again when he sees that the breakfast tray is already safely put away because of course Nie Mingjue would have thought ahead.

His practicality is one of the many reasons Jiang Cheng loves him so after all.

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#bt writes #mingcheng #modern au #mdzs #the untamed #established relationship #fluff #cuddling and snuggling #unrequited crush #not for the main pairing though

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