#I’m not the greatest at wording things over text

[tobytheeggo]

Your version of Chidi seems like such a sweetheart, how did he get into the world of crime and what point in his life did it happen? Also congrats on passing your exam!

Thank you!! I like suck at math so I’m glad I just passed and I retake the test 😭‼️

Both my RP and my general Chidi are way more chill and ‘friendly’ than the canon one mainly just because of the type of person I made him in the past. In my upcoming Fic, ‘Sleeping with Sorrow’, Chidi faces all his past regrets in his resting hours making the whole thing a trial and error experience in his own mind. (My) Chidi is very timid and overly nonchalant mainly because he feels that most situations don’t require much force unless undoubtedly stated; and really it’s just the way his parents raised him.

I’m not sure if sweetheart is the right word, but rather ‘unbothered’ seems more appropriate here ^^

How did he get into the criminal underworld?

By association simply! I don’t have it fully planned out yet, but one of his uncles is an assassin and occasionally had him (Chidi) do his tasks for him. When his service contract for the marine force was over, Chidi’s uncle had recommend that he get a full time job in something he was good at; like martial arts. After all he did make a good point about doing that for majority of his life just for it to all go to waste. So Chidi agreed, and then actively set out to search for a job within the underworld, soon enough being given a chance as a bodyguard for numerous people, then finally settling on Vincent.

[dumpywrites]

Wanna See My Cat? - Min Yoongi / Suga

Prompt: “Do you wanna see my cat?” You're not actually lying but he thinks it's a sexual innuendo.

Prompt request: HERE

Genre/tags: Fluff, situationship-ish

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

a/n: I was contemplating on whether to actually add smut to this but I decided not to cause it's cuter this way and I think we could all agree there're plenty of bts smut but not enough fluff here! :D

Situationship was a funny concept. Either you commit or not, that was what you believed. Which was why you were not precisely proud to say that you was now in fact in one. 

In your defense it had only been what, three? Four weeks? A month or so? Min Yoongi was this nice guy your acquaintance introduced you to. Gentle, could be hilarious when he wanted to, and cute. Although he could be a little emotionless at times, mostly he was a really sweet guy and you liked him a lot. In your other defense, you did not believe what you had with him could be called as a situationship. It was just what your friends had been teasing you about. 

In the whole time of knowing him, you had been to total of three dates. The first being a casual “are you free for dinner after work?” kinda date, second a movie date, and third being a very chill cafe date. And in your opinion, you enjoyed all of them, you had the greatest of time chatting and spending quality time with him. But your friend kept teasing you otherwise. 

Apparently your dates were considered too boring, too innocent for today’s dating world standard. You had not even had your first kiss yet and one of your friends was already asking about his size. Evidently, wanting to take things slow was a crime nowadays and you were lowkey getting annoyed. 

Today though, your park date was cancelled due to the rain. You kept cursing to yourself at home when you saw Yoongi’s text telling you to do a literal rain check, seeing the thunderstorm. The outfit that you bought especially for the occasion failed to see the outside world. 

As you stood in front of the mirror, seeing the reflection gave you a weird idea. A small Siamese cat walking past your feet, meowing adorably. Your pet cat, Zuko. A cat whose existence wasn’t known by Yoongi yet. The lightbulb above your head lightened up. 

“Do you wanna see my cat?” You sent the text. 

**

Yoongi texted you to let you know that he had arrived at your place. You recalled last time he picked you up it took him around fifteen minutes but this time he only took ten. You wondered what made him arrive a lot quicker. 

You were giddy with excitement and took a screenshot to tell your friend. Instead of being excited and giddy for you, your friend sent a bunch of side-eye emojis. Well, they could be just teasing you but the chat bubble following afterwards had you wondering. 

“Woo! Give me a rating score later!!!” 

You crooked your head in confusion, but there was no time to ponder on your friend’s riddle when Yoongi was already waiting for you to open the front door. 

“Hey.”

That hey definitely did not have to sound that deep and hot. You had to gulped your saliva down upon seeing him in his comfortable clothes. Since when did wearing sweatpants and baggy t-shirt looked so good? And did he just had his hair cut or was it just you? So many questions pilling up in your head. 

You knew it was game over when he went in for a hug. Heavenly was the only words you could use to describe his smell. It was a mixture of his shampoo and his laundry detergent, and his intoxicating smell. It seemed like he didn’t even use any perfume. 

“What should we eat?” You said while smiling giddily. 

“I’m kinda craving some instant ramen?” He looked at you while lifting a shopping bag filled with a few packets of noodles. 

Your eyes beamed. “That sounds really nice actually with the weather and all.” 

“Alright cool.” He nodded. “Let’s cook?”

Yoongi was being extra touchy. You were boiling the water and he would swiftly grab the chopsticks in front of you from behind, making you feel his chest. You fully knew well that he could easily grab the utensils without doing that, but for some reason the demons were working hard at the moment. He even leaned his chin over your shoulder as you were chopping some sausages. At this point he could be doing it on purpose for all you knew. 

He did not stop when you both started to eat. From the smooth wiping your lips from food to feeding you. Who was this person and what had he done to Yoongi you might never know. 

Right after washing the dishes and escaping a few of Yoongi’s teases, you both chilled on the sofa. As you browsed through Netflix, you could sense him scooting closer to you. You could feel his body warmth that automatically made yours grew hotter as well. 

“What are we watching?” He asked with a husky voice. By this point he was hugging your waist and rested his body weight on you. 

“I was thinking some action? You love those right?”

“I do.” 

You paused. Why was the tone of his voice sounded slightly off and why was he looking at you funnily?

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

He broke into a small smile. “Nothing.”

“Stop or I’ll make you watch Puss in Boots!” You whined. 

And then it hit you. The cat! You were too busy being swayed, head in the clouds, fantasizing, that you forgot why he was initially visiting you in your apartment.

“My cat!” You exclaimed loudly, which made Yoongi jumped and sat back up from his position. 

You missed the look of confusion in Yoongi’s face as you ran quickly to your room to pick up the furball in your bedroom. 

“I can’t believe I forgot about him!” You chuckled with your pet now in your arms. “He doesn’t like roaming around, he mostly sleeps in my room.”

Yoongi just looked at you, quizzically. As if he could not believe his eyes. 

“Meet Zuko!” You smiled, proudly showing your cat. “Zuko, meet Yoongi.” You giggled and shoved the cat to the man’s hands. 

He stared at the cat blankly for a good few seconds before gently petting the creature’s head. 

“Uh, hi.” He said, sounding lightly awkward. “He’s actually really cute.”

“I know right!” You grinned. “Do you wanna hold him?”

“Sure.” He said, sounding a little unsure. 

The man sat down with your cat on his lap, slowly stroking the soft white fur of its tiny body. You bent down, sat on the carpet on his knee level to pet the cat. Somehow seeing you smile lovingly at the cat made Yoongi’s lips curled into a soft smile as well. 

“You’re adorable.” Yoongi said. 

“He’s the cutest cat, I know.”

“No, I mean you.” 

“Oh.” You shyly looked away, hoping the nervous giggles did not give it away. “Thank you.” 

Yoongi chuckled and huffed a sigh. “I can’t believe there’s actually a cat.”

“Huh?” You crooked your head to the side, wondering what the guy meant by that. “Of course there is? What do you mean?”

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” He laughed. “You don’t know?”

“Uh, no?” 

He ruffled your hair and laughed again, this time a little bit louder than before. You were still stunned, too confused to process when he quickly pulled you in and kissed your forehead. Suddenly you did not want to protest about how messy he just made your hair. 

“It’s alright, maybe next time.” 

You covered your face with both of your palms.  “What’s with you today?!” You said with your hands still covering your face. 

“I like you.” He shrugged. “Might not be the most animated guy out there so I’m just letting you know.”

“Yeah, which is why I’m so confused with you today???” You said with flushed face. “Oh my god, that’s not the point though! I like you too!”

He chuckled. “Let’s just get back to the movie?”

The vibe after that conversation calmed down. Maybe it was the whole letting-the-cat-out-of-the-bag thing on your feelings making the air less thick. You ended up just cuddling, snuggling to each other while watching The Notebook. You both hated romance movies, but somehow finished the entire movie anyway after you misclicked it in the first place. It was nice and warm being in Yoongi’s arms and you were afraid you wouldn’t want to ever let go. 

And it was finally time for him to go home. Crazy how you did not notice the time went by so fast. Heck, you didn’t even notice the screen was already playing another movie. How could you when Yoongi was caressing your hair ever so gently? Goodness gracious. 

“Hey, I have to go now. Meeting in an hour, remember?” He tapped your shoulder. 

“I’m not letting you go.” You whined, hugging him tighter. 

He laughed. “Silly, I can come again tomorrow.”

You sat back up and looked at him. “Really???”

“I mean yeah, you don’t have work on Sunday, right?” He smiled. “If you want to, that is.”

“I want to.” You giggled. 

He flashed his gummy smile one more time before getting up from your couch. You walked with him to the door and waited for him to grab his jacket. The whole time you were stalling, asking him the most random questions, and made the silliest remarks. You just didn’t want him to go home yet, especially after finding out that he liked you too. 

“As much as I’d love to talk more about how much I disliked the whole education system, I really have to go now.” He chuckled. 

“Okay.” You pouted. You watch as he got up from tying his shoelaces. 

He huffed a sigh and smiled. “Come closer.”

You did as told without thinking and in a quick seconds, somehow you were pulled into a soft kiss. It was a soft peck and you could feel his smile through it. He didn’t gave you a chance to react as he swiftly let go. 

“See you tomorrow?” 

“Come on…” You whined again and covered your face in awkwardness, and he could only laugh at you. “Go! Before I lock you up!”

“I’ll text you.” He waved and you finally closed your door. 

You found yourself giggling and smiling to yourself like an idiot. This was new. Whatever in the fresh hell was that, you couldn’t lie to yourself that you were into this somewhat bold and flirty side of him. 

You casually walked back to your couch and switched the tv to youtube. As you let random science podcast video play, you decided to check your phone, realizing you had not text your friend back yet. 

“What do you mean by giving a score?”

Your friend replied almost too immediately. You were shocked to see the usage of caps lock. 

“YOU DIDN’T KNOW??????!!!!! WTF???”

“Okay, explain?????”

“Poor Yoongi has to deal with your dumbass 😔” 

“Shut up 🖕🖕🖕”

“It’s a code. You say that instead of asking to come over and have sex. Basically the new netflix and chill.”

“… okay. OKAY???!!!!!!”

“Bestie, did something happen though??? 😍”

“SO THAT’S WHY HE TOLD ME HE WAS SURPRISED THAT THERE WAS ACTUALLY A CAT???? OMFGGGGGG!!!!!! ASFDKSPSKSG 😭😭😭”

You put down your phone to muffle your tiny scream with your knuckles. You recalled him mentioning a next time. Then you also recalled him wanting to come over again tomorrow. Needless to say, it was finally time to let out that one cute underwear you had been keeping in your drawer for months.

Thank you for reading! 🐈‍⬛💕

[flkwh0re]

Moms Friend

warnings: age gap (reader is 19 and Nat is 39), mommy kink (N), blow job, eating out, fingering, p in v, dirty talk, unprotected sex, breeding kink, cockwarming, a little bit of jealous Nat. That's all!!

Summary: You come home for a bit, and your moms best friend finally makes her move in you.

A/n: This is my first fic i’m posting here!! I apologize if it’s not great!

You had just pulled into the driveway of your childhood home. A few weeks ago you had planned to surprise your mom and come home. Grabbing your bags from the trunk, you walk to the door knocking. You hear your mother shout something incoherent.

"Oh Детка you're home!" Pulling you into a big hug, you catch a glance of your young brothers inside. They see you too running to the door. "Y/n you're home!!" You smile as Billy and Tommy pull you into a big hug.

Vision, your father, steps out into the hall. His smile fades as he sees you. Your relationship with your father is not the greatest, but with your mother it's amazing. Wanda had treated you better than any other mom you could've asked for, her best friend Natasha as well.

It then dawned on you that you haven't seen Natasha in while, so you figured maybe invite her over or ask her if she'd like to plan something. You pulled out your phone, searching for her contact.

After texting her, it was only a matter of time before she answered. You both decided you'd come to her place for lunch while you're mother and father were at work and your brothers at school.

"Y/n honey, tell me how school has been." Wanda asked with a smile. "Just like always, I'm top of most of my classes." You look at her, a proud smile plastered on her face. "Well isn't that just amazing, Vision." She ask him. He returns nothing but a nod, causing a small frown to creep onto your face.

"Oh, mom I'll be having lunch over at Natasha's tomorrow!" You say excitedly. "That's great! She's been asking so much about you, and I just don't know the answer to everything. My girl is a busy girl." She smiled.

Your evening consisted of catching up with your mom, listening to your brothers and all the things you've missed, and your father ignoring that you were even there. You honestly don't know why your mom is still with him, but you know it's probably for the best.

-

The next day arrives soon, and you're on your way to Natasha's house. Your nerves creep. You love Natasha, but there's always been this feeling towards her. A yearning for her. You know you can't act on it, because it's nothing but a silly childhood crush thought something tells you it's more.

You pull into her driveway, the front of her house being decorated with cute fall decor.

Stepping out of your car, the cold air hits your face only making your shivering nervous body worse.

You knock on her door, waiting a few seconds to hear for footsteps. Then you hear them, and Natasha telling you to give her a second. "Y/n!! Gosh I've missed you." She pulls you into a hug, kissing your forehead softly.

She pulls you inside, and quickly helps you remove your coat. Her eagerness to see you makes you smile wide, and laugh. Oh how you've missed her. Nothing or anyone, even your own mother, compares to how Natasha makes you feel.

You catch up with her on everything, while eating the food she prepared. You were interrupted by your friend Kate blowing up your phone with text then a call. "Hold on Nat, let me get this."

"Y/n I am going to hurt you!" She shouts into the phone, "Why the fuck didn't you tell me you were in town!!" You giggle at her, "Hey don't you fucking laugh at me!" Only causing your laughter to worsen.

Natasha on the other hand was not laughing, more jealous that her time was ruined with you. She hated that she got this way, but she couldn't help it. She tried to stop, you're her best friends daughter. You're also 20 years younger than her. Her thoughts were interrupted by your words.

"Sorry Natty, that was Kate. She wants me to come over as soon as possible." Her face like stone as she replies with, "So you're leaving?" Your nerves taking over again, leaving you silent. You don't wanna leave Natasha, you'd stay there forever with her. "Well not now, but probably soon. I'll make it up though, we can have dinner sometime."

-

Soon, the two weeks of being home quickly passed. You still hadn't made it up to Natasha, so you decided you'd show up to her house.

She opens the door, shocked to your arrival. "Y/n what are you here for?" She asked confused. "Well I never made up time lost with you, so I brought a desert and figured I'd spend some time with you and watch a movie or something." She felt a smile creep onto her face.

You settled down quickly on her couch, her following behind. You had both decided on watching (insert wtv movie).

Time had passed fast, she knew if she didn't act then she'd probably loose her chance. "Y/n come here, sit in my lap." You quickly scurry onto her lap, only to be stopped in your tracks when you notice her hard-on. "You feel that baby? It's all for you." She attaches her lips to your neck, kissing softly.

"Nat, what are you doing? We can't do this." You say nervously. "Says who? You're an adult sweetheart."

Within minutes she has you on your knees, pulling down her boxers. Her dick springs out, your face pulling a shocked look at her size. She brings her hand to your face, guiding your mouth into her length. You bob your head up and down on her. Gagging noises and her moans fill the air.

You bring her to her orgasm, swallowing everything she gave you. "Such a good girl for mommy. Now get up on the couch." You follow her orders and she helps you remove your clothes. Her lips attach to your nipple, while her hand gropes at your other breast.

"How's that baby? Is mommy making you feel good?"She asked in a sultry tone. "So good." She smiles at your weaker state, as she kisses down your stomach. Her mouth reaching your core, and her noise brushes your clit causing your hips to jolt. She attached her mouth to your pussy, sucking and licking.

As she works her tongue, she adds her fingers to the mix stretching you out. Your orgasm crashing in, in full speed.

She stands up, then aligns her tip with your entrance pushing in slowly. Once you've adjusted to her size, she shows no mercy on your pussy. "That feel good baby? Mommy's gonna fill you up. My little bitch to breed." You can't even form a sentence in your fucked out state.

"Aww poor thing is too dumb, can't even form a sentence. Tell mommy you want her to fill you up with her babies." You tried to spit the words out, but it just came out as an incoherent mess and moans. "Cmon baby tell me or else I won't." You still didn't speak, not until she pulled out of you. You gasp and quickly spoke out. "Please mommy fill me up!"

She smirked, then thrusted herself back into you. In only a matter of seconds you could feel her cuming inside you. She continued her thrust, your orgasm quickly washing over.

She placed a soft kiss on your head, then pulled herself out of you. Laying down behind you, she slid her cock back into you. "No mommy! I can't-" she quickly shut down your please. "Don't worry baby, I have you. Mommy just wants to be in you." She kisses your shoulder as you drift off to sleep.

[thevirtualvalentine]

TAKING WHAT’S NOT YOURS — OSAMU MIYA

content warnings: smut, mentions of voyeurism (suna is just there for the ride), possessive language and toxic behaviors, f!reader, situationships, oral (giving and receiving), mind numbing flirting & witty banter, creampie, he calls you a slut twice, you’re both kinda shitty. 🤷🏾

plot: as usual, atsumu has brought another “friends with benefits minus the friend” home. but unusually, osamu can’t stand the thought of you together, even suna agrees, right?

a/n: tv girl referenced! something evil took over me when writing this, I’m getting uninvited from so many miya birthday parties omg … T_T enjoy this 4.6k word vom.

Osamu never thought being roommates with his own twin could get any worse than when they were young boys sharing a bunk bed. Atsumu was never the type to return clothes he borrowed and certainly was the type to eat food sharpied with someone else’s name. What was Osamu’s, by extension, was Atsumu’s. He loved his brother and would yield to his selfishness because that’s just how things were.

Lately, however, Atsumu has been seeing someone, more and more frequently. Going as far as replacing his other quick fucks between practices for you. Osamu can understand why, you’re witty, unbelievably sexy, and far too sophisticated to be a fuck laid by Atsumu whenever he sends a quick “come over” text.

This matter has perplexed everyone in Atsumu Miya’s circle, questions raise on how he even managed to get your attention. “Yer all just mad it’s me she wants,” the cheeky bastard says with a toothy grin. To that, he’s not wrong.

That’s how Osamu and Suna have ended up here, with their ears to the door trying to understand what you possibly could be getting in fair exchange. “You fuckin’ love it don’t you baby,” Atsumu says to you in a tone dripping with confidence. It makes both their stomachs churn thinking of someone so beautiful with a guy like that…

“I just can’t believe this,” Suna dramatizes, he really wants to aid his friend but with each passing second of skin slapping against skin — he doesn’t know how much longer Osamu can take it. The Miyas are .. rather possessive, especially him.

“Mhm hm! Love it ‘Tsumu your dick is so good!” It’s downright pornographic how honey-sweet you sound, it just has to be fake.

“Rin, we both know Atsumu can’t fuck women that good. Tell me I still have a chance,” he’s delusional and he knows it, but the small sliver of hope keeps him desperately chasing after what’s not his.

“You’re crazy,” he snickers, almost pitying his friend for how hard he is beneath his pants. “One Miya is trouble enough, but two? She’ll be running for the hills.”

That’s all Osamu needed to set his plot into motion, he’ll just have to steal you away from him — his own brother.

It’s a quiet Sunday morning in the apartment, you roll out of Atsumu’s huge bed to make yourself coffee like you usually do when you stay over. Bless his heart but you and your newest fuck could not be any more different, he’s a late sleeper, overconfident, and to top it all off he’s not the greatest lay. You weren't sure how you ended up sleeping with a volleyball player.

But, he is undeniably handsome, which is how you found yourself in his bed. Shoving those thoughts aside, you slip into the hallway in nothing but one of his oversized shirts making your way to the kitchen. “Mornin’, coffee’s on the table.”

His voice startles you from your half-awakened stupor and you realize it’s just Atsumu. How sweet, he’s never done something like this for you before. You rub your sleepy eyes as you take a sip from the warm mug, hold on. You just left his bed, how could he be here?

Dark brown hair and cold grey eyes meet yours and instantly you know who this man is. “Oh- I’m so sorry Osamu, it didn’t register to me that you’d be here today.” You panic, trying to cover yourself up with something but he just laughs you off while drinking from his own cup.

Osamu Miya, the twin brother and (elusive) roommate of Atsumu. “You’re fine pretty, just enjoy the coffee. Let me know if you want any breakfast with it.” Once a month Osamu closes his shop in preparation for a big rice delivery from Kita, he’s just happened to catch you alone in his living room.

Involuntary heat rises to your face at his choice of words, you haven’t been formally introduced on account of the fact your relationship with his brother isn’t serious but you don’t mind his informal greeting. “So the rumors are true, you’re a chef?” you query, setting your mug down on a table closest to your seat.

God. The lilt in your voice makes him shudder and swallow hard, not to mention that the fat of your thighs peek out from under your shirt when you cross your legs. You aren’t aware of this, but that’s his shirt Atsumu has yet to return — but right now he’ll let that go — he gets to see you wear it.

“Mhm, it seems I can’t deny the allegations. Mostly onigiri though. Sorry to disappoint.” He can’t help himself but to flirt with you, his twisted infatuation morphing into a crush now that he’s immersed himself in the real thing. The soft glow of the morning light makes you appear like an angel on his couch.

“Well Mr. Chef, don’t hurt yourself trying to make bacon and eggs,” you muse. While he may be as handsome as Atsumu, he’s different; calmer, wittier, and more adept at ordinary life skills from the looks of it. This man, you reckon, is the sole reason why your sneaky link even has a proper roof over his head.

The conversation flows naturally between you as he prepares the needed ingredients. It ranges from work to his restaurant then back to you again, you find yourself laughing at his jokes and feeling much more comfortable in the apartment than before. There's a certain chemistry that seems to occur between you.

It continues like this for a while, Osamu finding reasons to be at the flat instead of his restaurant so that he may spend time with you, chatting you up over breakfast that he’s prepared. Flirtatious remarks beneath the guise of innocent conversation.

It feels wrong, coming over for one man hoping to see another the next morning, the worst of all being that they have the same face. Yet, they could not be any more contrasting. Where Atsumu forces your submission in his bedroom - Osamu rightfully earns it by tending to you. Sometimes when you look up between your lashes you wish it was dark hair you were seeing instead of platinum.

It’s another quiet Sunday morning in the Miya’s apartment. Your feet feel light as you make your way down the hallway to see him, Osamu. It’s inexplicable to you why there seems to be more cadence in your step with each strut forward, and on queue there he is. Alluring as he sits on the couch in his compression tee.

The same relaxed smile and soft tone, “Mornin’ sweetness, your coffee’s on the table.” You scoop the mug up as you plop down on the forgiving cushion next to him.

“This isn’t a sound business practice, aren’t owners supposed to open their restaurant?” You’re quick to start this morning, craving the stimulating conversation you can only find in him - like he’s some sort of haven amongst the rubble that is your situationship. The guilt does gnaw at you, making the coffee taste even more bitter than usual.

It’s what he’s been waiting for, the foundation begins to crumble and like your hero, he’ll swoop in. “Yes, but lately I’ve been hired as a private chef. The clientele is rather demanding of me if you can believe that,” he retorts while deadpanning in your direction. When he looks at you it feels like you’re bare for his eyes alone. Those cool tone grey eyes that know exactly what you are.

It leaves a lump in your throat that makes it difficult to talk. He continues between sips of his coffee, “she only requests bacon and eggs when I could give her so much more.” It makes your blood rush trying to see through his act, is it literal or innuendo? Nevertheless, you dance around each other avoiding the inevitable for a taste of limbo.

“What’s on the menu then?” You’re content to shove the ball back on his side of the court, intent on making him reveal his cards in a full flush.

The air in the room suffocates you, what seems like a quick conversation plays in slow motion. You’ve always been one to play coy, guarding your heart with quick jabs and humor. He indulges you, plays the game, the one of the cat and the mouse.

But the Miya’s are not coy, not by a long shot. “You.” It’s simple and effective, and he doesn’t miss the hitch in your breath when you realize he’s both literal and figurative.

During this long winded plot of his, Osamu has purposely avoided the topic of Atsumu all together. He doesn’t want to feed the green in his vision, doesn’t want to think of the consequences, he just wants you. Desperately.

It’s like your brain's shut down, the truth is right here in your face but it’s flustering. You’ve won, but why does it feel like you’ve lost? “I— Osamu,” you start, but you just can’t meet his gaze.

“Face it, when you’re with him you’re thinking of me.” The shame washes over you and becomes a pit of despair in your stomach. Your hands bunch the fabric of Atsumu’s shirt as you sit there and face the truth for yourself. The ugly, raring, and raw truth: that you want his hands to roam the canvas of your body, that it’s his lips you want seared into your flesh, that it’s his room you wish you were going into during the wee hours of the night. Not Atsumu’s.

He’s in front of you now, his broad shoulders casting a dubious shadow over you. “Tell me — right here n’ now — that you don’t want me and I’ll leave you alone.” But still, you can’t bring yourself to look at him. To be met with that face.

“Osamu, please.” You beg, pawing at his shirt, with tears in your eyes. “Don’t leave,” you feel pathetic, shame eating at you for acting so desperate. You’ve never behaved this way before, not genuinely at least. He drives you crazy, and you’re not willing to let it go so easily.

He thinks he’ll cum in his pants from this little display alone, your honesty and vulnerability fueling his twisted desire. He looks more like his brother than ever before, trademark wicked smirk at the feeling of victory. It’s delightful.

“Shh, pretty thing I’m not gonna quit you,” he says taking your face in his big hand. It’s hot, searing to the touch. The pad of his thumb strokes your plush cheek, “feel what you do to me.”

Osamu takes your hand in his, covering it seamlessly while dragging it up his thigh. He’s hard, incredibly so. It’s almost painful just how bricked he is beneath his pants. “See,” he helps you palm from the base all the way to the tip and you swear you’re dripping onto his couch. He groans softly feeling your delicate hands basically grope him in his shared living room, but fuck does it feel good.

He has to stop himself from grinding into your hand, frantic to finally get some reprieve to this insatiable ache for you. “So, how long,” you ask, not stopping your ministrations.

The air around you has changed, you’ve regained your composure knowing you weren’t alone in your desperation. He hisses when you cup his balls looking for a response, “how long what?”

His face is flushed a wild shade of pink and it’s only heightened by the morning light pouring in through the windows. “Now you want to play coy with me, Osamu Miya? How long have you waited to fuck me behind Atsumu’s back? Was it when he first brought me home,” your hand slides along the fabric smoothly as you rest your head against his hip.

“Maybe it was all those times you made me coffee?” You continue palming him, essentially jacking him off through his pants. “Or maybe when you were listening outside the door?” You squeeze and he lets out a choked whimper.

“Like yer any better slut, jerkin’ me off while you’re under my brothers roof.” He can’t control his tone, country accent raring to go on account of feeling cornered. You make him feel so good he doesn’t want to stop, he’s never been this hard in his life.

You hum, pleased with his response. “Such a nasty mouth for a chef. Do you speak to your customers this way?” He’s pulling himself out of his pants before you get the chance, his tip angry and red, soaked with precious pre.

It makes your mouth water, you’re eye level with his cock and all you want is to make yourself gag on it. “Nah, just the pretty ones with a bratty mouth. So show me what you can do hot stuff.”

Spitting directly on his head you drag the bulb down to his base with your tongue, watching as he shudders from your seated position. You place your hands on either side of his hips as you take him fully in your mouth, lapping the salty taste up trying to replace it with your own. “Dirty lil thing, you do this for him?”

The possession in his voice is palpable but you give him a taste of his own medicine. “Nah, only for the handsome ones who are smartasses,” releasing him from your mouth makes a pop sound. You jerk him in one hand as you belittle him, smiling with spit dribbling down your chin.

He thinks he might be in love with you, isn’t that funny. A woman who can reduce him to mere putty that’s rightfully not his, how raunchy. It makes Osamu’s balls pulse uncomfortably.

You’re a vixen, sent to entice him with your every move and fluid jerk of your wrist. He has to stop now or he’ll cum too fast, he wants this moment to last forever. The way you worship him and his cock, the way your smart mouth makes his head swim, and how warm your hands are on his bare skin.

Osamu Miya has never felt so greedy in his entire life. He hasn’t felt the need to ask anything this demanding of his brother, but what’s Atsumu’s is Osamu’s. Right? What’s a quick fuck to one is a wife to another, and with the way you’re sucking him off he might just have to put a ring on it.

Reluctantly, he pulls himself from your hot mouth before he’s able to spill down your throat. He taps the tip of his cock against your lips insultingly with a grin, “Enough, so damn desperate yer gonna choke on it.”

He’s mean but it excites you, Atsumu has never spoken to you like this only really going through the motions. You can’t help how your pussy clenches involuntarily around nothing nor can you stop the heat from rising to your face as you draw your thighs together. You sit there, staring at each other with bated breaths as the reality of what you’re doing sets in.

But if you thought that was going to deter him, you are sorely mistaken. He practically falls to his knees to get a taste of your lips against his, resting his upper body between your legs on the couch. Osamu groans tasting himself on your tongue as he invades your mouth.

You’re slobbering all over each other in a heated attempt to engulf one another. He grabs the back of your thighs while you wrap your arms around his neck. It’s like months of desperate mutual yearning have come to fruition and neither of you will let up. Not even for air.

You’re not wearing any panties and you’re sure your cunts drooling all over the place as he sucks kisses down your neck and collarbones. “Osamu—” you whine quietly, only for him to hear. His tongue licks and prods at your sensitive skin giving you goosebumps. It’s so hot and heavy you can’t make any sense of yourself just from some simple kisses.

He’s reduced you to nothing with minimal effort, wildly different from other sexual encounters you’ve had. “I need more of you Osamu, please,” and it’s the sweetest words he’s ever heard uttered. You’re absolutely perfect, just for him.

“Of course love, whatever you need.” His hands begin to spread your legs apart as another gush of slick pours out of you from the pet name alone. “I bet he doesn’t even know what to do with this, doesn’t know how to make you feel good like I can.”

If that’s a promise, you need him to fulfill it. His words are heavy in your ears as you watch him take his shirt off, they weigh in your chest threatening to drag you down with him. He spreads your puffy folds apart with his thumb, getting a good look at you and letting out coos of praise. “Yer so fuckin wet I can see it,” he dips into your warmth only slightly, marveling at the slick that coats his fingers.

He eyes them and you try to stop him before he does what you think he’s gonna do. “Don’t do that, it’s nasty,” you say trying to grab his hand.

But he swats you away, appraising the translucent liquid by spreading his fingers apart before sticking them in his mouth. “Mhm, n’ you taste as good as you look.”

He loves this look on you, the horror written all over your face as he sucks them clean. A chef never wastes a proper meal, and he’s still fuckin hungry.

Osamu yanks you down the couch to be as close as possible, he can feel the heat radiating from your cunt with just his face above it. He can tell you’ve never had someone properly eat you out by the way you’re so scared to let him even play around with you, and that lights a fire under his ass.

He dives tongue first into your folds, purposely avoiding the spot you need him the most. The moan you let out is a stark comparison to anything he’s heard from you before, but he can’t have you spoiling the fun already.

So he’ll kiss you instead, forcing you to taste yourself and groan into his maw while his fingers work magic in your cunt. Your nails find purchase in the skin of his back as he holds your leg open with one hand and slides his middle finger inside you with another. He pulls back, gauging your reaction for any discomfort as he works it in and out of your sopping heat.

“So messy for me baby, god I love it,” but he’s not looking at you, he’s looking at where his finger slips inside you; making you watch as his knuckles disappear before sliding in another.

The second digit proving to be a stretch for you as you cry into his mouth about how good it feels, “so good ‘samu, just a little faster.”

That’s when he curls them upwards, toying the rougher patch of your g-spot with the pads of his middle and ring finger. The force at which you try to close your legs and dig your nails into his skin lets him know he’s in the right place. “Gotta stay quiet sweetheart, can ya do that for me?”

You don’t know how you could be, with the way he’s listening to your body he’s managed to play its perfect tune. But you nod, covering your mouth with your hand obediently as he descends between your legs again.

Finally, he pays mind to your puffy clit. Giving it kitten licks while his fingers are still making a sloppy mess of you down below. He groans sending vibrations through you in the act of suckling your bud between his lips.

It’s muffled, but he can hear you chanting his name as he throughly wrecks you with just his mouth and hands. It causes white hot pleasure to settle in the belly of you as you writhe and try and to run away from it. He won’t let you, forcing your legs apart even wider.

You’re cumming on his fingers before you even know it. Leaving red welts on his shoulder as you go limp on the couch. “Just keep cumming for me pretty. Let go,” his low calm voice centers you when you begin to twitch against your will.

You’ve rarely ever truly came when fucking Atsumu, but Osamu has you pleading for mercy as he thumbs your clit through the aftershocks.

He lets you catch your breath, helping you remove the oversized shirt from over your head. “Don’t think I’m done with you yet,” he says while thumbing your chin, and kissing your tits tenderly. His eyes reassure you from between the valley of your breasts.

You’re appreciative of his masked concern, “then stop talking, and start doing.” The fight in you is exactly why he wanted you in the first place.

“To think this gorgeous pussys been wasted,” he tsks. “Don’tcha worry yer pretty head baby, I’ll fuck that attitude outta ya.” He stands up, removing the rest of his clothing and putting you on the couch how he wants you. Obviously, he was going to go for missionary, all so that you could see him in the act of claiming you as his own.

You know you’re in trouble with Osamu when he slips into his country accent, it’s involuntary but it’s his true nature. You’re placed onto your back by his big arms, most likely from carrying heavy bags of rice everyday at his job. You can’t help but ogle at the thin layer of sweat that coats him, and he smiles. So charming.

He begins by lining himself with your entrance, teasing the ring of muscle with the tip of his cock. It makes you whine, needy for more but he won’t just take you. No, he uses your pussy to lube himself up. “For fucks sake ‘Samu just put it in please,” you think using a nickname on him will work like it does with Atsumu.

But Osamu is in control of himself and his desires (for the most part), he’ll rut his hips into your sticky labias, running over your sensitive clit with the underside of himself. “So needy, jus’ watch” he tilts your chin downwards to make you gaze at where your bodies nearly meet.

He’s going to break you before anything else. The sight is turning you on beyond belief, his body tensing and releasing with every slow drawl of his lazy hips. “How bad d’ya want me? Tell me n’ I’ll fuck you slut.”

The way in which he carries himself warns you to not mess with him, submit. It’s all in his face, the restraint, the power, the control. You want to break down and beg him for everything so that he may see you for what you truly are in those grey eyes. “I think about you every time I come over here, every time you’ve poured me coffee or made my eggs I’ve wanted you. ‘Samu I need you s’bad please..”

You feel him physically twitch and groan lowly at your confession. He wasn’t expecting all that but it certainly does stroke his ego. Osamu pinches your nipple slightly as he grins. “Yeah baby, you wish it was me touchin’ you,” its rhetorical. He’ll reward you though, ‘fer bein so damn good’.

He feels heavenly entering you, it makes your toes curl when you hear him sigh into a slow pace. He takes his time with you, working you up to fully enjoy your experience with him. “You feel so good, fuck.. n’ your pussy’s so warm,” he says while tightening the grip on the back of your knees.

Everything is hitting you at once and it’s getting hotter by the second, your heavy breaths hitting his face as you accept him in full. It’s a snug fit and the curve of him feels just right in your walls, fuck you need him closer.

“I want you,” is all that comes out between soft whimpers. And he obliges, folding you in half and guiding your arms to hang around his shoulders. He feels so deep inside you that you can’t even see straight. His face is red with his brows drawn together in pleasure.

You try and keep quiet but the muffled sound of skin against skin keeps ringing in your ears along with the slosh of your cunt. “Lettin’ me pound you raw too, should just let me have ya. I know I’m fuckin’ you better than him.”

His words are like fire on your skin, burning you from the inside out. Your walls flutter and convulse around him as he snickers. It registers that you can feel all of him and you whine. The flood gates threaten to spill.

“I— Osamu s’good, oh my god!” He revels in the fact it almost sounds like you’re in pain from how much satisfaction you’re feeling, because of him. It’s his name you’re wailing, not Atsumu’s.

You dig your nails deeper, certain to draw blood as you're needy more of him. The band in you is threatening to snap. He’s close too, quickening the rate at which he barrels into you. Reaching deeper and deeper as he makes eye contact with you. It’s so intimate that you feel yourself succumbing.

“Where do you wan’ it baby,” his eyes are glossed over with lust and his voice thick with desire. There’s only one place you want him, inside.

It’s like music to his ears, he’s spilling his seed in hot thick ropes as he stills himself balls deep inside you. You unravel, biting your lip as you squeeze him tighter than a vice, he’s groaning and shallowly pumping into your shaking form.

You never knew missionary on a sofa could feel so fucking good, he looks at you with such care in his eyes that you melt.

Osamu helps you clean up, apologizing for the frothy ring of cum on his base and the mess that pours out of you. He’s "a sucker for a cream pie" is what he tells you.

Things between you couldn’t remain as they were, you both knew that know after you practically devoured each other right down the hall from Atsumu’s room.

He brings you to his space, letting you shower and wipe yourself down (not without groping your curves between steps). You talk about what you should say or how to even go about it over breakfast he made, but this time you're wearing his shirt.

It’s safe to say Atsumu was not pleased losing one of his favorite fucks, but in some weird way he’s not completely pissed. He’s never seen Osamu so fucking selfish n' greedy before, so he must be pretty serious about you. In time he’ll forgive him, even swing by the restaurant to see you two.

“How’s it feel havin’ my seconds,” he’ll taunt behind your back to Osamu when you’re not around. Jutting his elbow into his brothers side.

Osamu rolls his eyes, “still bitter it’s my cock she’s begging for every night I see. Get better soon.” He knows you’re happier with him, sending a hardened look at Atsumu.

They both smile as you approach the table with snacks, dropping whatever argument as you greet them. “Hello Miya and better Miya.”

Osamu snickers, kissing your left hand with his engagement ring on it. Atsumu just grumbles under his breath. “Hello Mrs. Miya,” they both say in unison.

[kinopio-writes]

Hi! Would you be willing to write something for Adam with a sensitive reader?

Everyone knows that he is loud-mouthed jerk, even reader, and she loves him regardless, but one day he crosses the line and says something particularly mean that makes her cry. Like REAL mean. To the point that he pauses because he did not think before speaking (or, well, less than usual lol)

I'm happy with whatever format you feel like using! Thank you!

A/N: I will be more than delighted to write that for you. But would you excuse me for a moment? AHHHHHHDISJDIOEOFJSKXJND—I’m sorry; I love this idea so much. Reading ‘Adam with a sensitive reader’ got me hooked instantly. But I’ll go over that in the headcanons, along with the general stuff. And I’ll add a oneshot at the end that plays the exact scenario of Adam taking it too far.

Holy sh!t. I made it so that the reader being sensitive is their greatest but also weakest point and it turned out pretty angsty. Has a bit of hurt/comfort, though. Did I go overboard? Maybe. That’s why it took so long. Sorry, anon.

Words: 2,328 (edited)

Warnings: Sex is mentioned (only a bit, surprisingly), Angst, Adam being Adam

———

Adam w/ a Sensitive!Reader

• ha, this man is also sensitive himself

• well, sensitive about himself

• he feels his own emotions strongly, so he’s not the caring, easily able to pick up on other’s feelings and empathize type of sensitive

• you, on the other hand, are on the opposite end of the spectrum compared to Adam

• so you experience other people’s emotions just as strongly as yours

• you easily know what makes someone tick

• you’re selfless

• you’re able to admit your mistakes and apologize

• you’re respectful and actively listen to people when they talk about themselves

• you don’t push people down to make yourself seem better

• you try to make everyone feel good and comfortable

• you’re everything he isn’t

• because you fit in Heaven perfectly

• you deserve to be there

• and Adam knows that he doesn’t belong (subconsciously at least)

• you’re able to draw people in just for being yourself

• and he’s envious of it

• so he demeans you and is snarky about everything you do, and every time people give you praise or affection, he tries to divert the attention to himself or just stares at you with utter hatred from afar

• although all of that is just when he hasn’t even had a conversation with you

• after a while of being around you, he’ll cling to you because you give him the reassurance and validation he oh-so craves (he acts as if he didn’t hate you before. What do you mean? You two were always buddy-buddy!)

• you acknowledge all of the things he puts his worth to

• heck, you hang out with him—you sometimes even initiate it—willingly, and you’re genuinely interested in everything he has to say

• but he‘ll only hang out with you where no one recognizes you (so you don’t get all the attention)

• terrible transition here, but he notices that you mimic people’s expressions often

• he definitely makes fun of you for it

• and also mocks you

• up until he realizes that you do the same thing to him, too

• which is fine and all, if only you didn’t do that when he’s upset

• well, you mimic him when he’s joyous as well, but he (already subconsciously) expects you to. I mean, why wouldn’t you? He’s fucking hilarious!

• so you copying his negative emotions just stands out more

• and he…doesn’t like it

• that’s only really what he doesn’t like about you

• and the fact that you hog all the attention

• and the fact that people see you as perfect…

• buuut what happens when he gets to see a new side of you that isn’t exactly upholding that image?

———

Your phone lit up from your bedside table, brightening your otherwise dark room along with the soft glow of your halo. You only moved your eyes to the light, not wanting your tears to spill and dampen your pillows.

You had an inkling as to who was texting you this late—if the fact that your phone lighting up several times in the span of 5 minutes had anything to say.

When the texts stopped pouring in after a few seconds, you heavily sighed, wings ruffling. You resisted the urge to rub your face as you went to grab your phone.

HEY (2:34) HEY (2:34) HEY (2:34) ARE YOU UP? (2:35) I’M BORED (2:35) GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE (2:36) IF YOU’RE UP (2:37) ARE YOU? (2:38) DID I TELL YOU THAT BITCH WITH THE HUGE TITS GOT FIRED TODAY? (2:39)

Figured. Of course, it was Adam. He was the only person you knew who’d be awake at this ungodly hour. And the only person you knew who’d disturb your peace if it meant curing anything that ailed him. Which was now about boredom, it seemed.

You read a few of his texts displayed on your lock screen before tapping one of the notifications and opening the app, scanning the rest of the unread messages.

Adam was going on about ‘that bitch with the huge tits’—her name was Tiffany, you were sure—and how she was rumored to have slept with an archangel to assume higher authority. He also went on to complain about how he didn’t have the chance to bed her anymore since she was basically deemed an outcast and that he couldn’t be seen with someone like her.

You frowned, not believing any of it, but you didn’t have time to think about it enough when he began typing again.

SO YOU’RE AWAKE (2:43)

You barely finished reading the new message when another one popped up.

DON’T IGNORE ME BITCH (2:43)

You frowned deeper, quick to type out a reply.

i’m not (2:43) i was just reading your texts (2:43) don’t worry (2:43) i’ll be there soon (2:44)

When he stopped typing, you placed your phone back on the nightstand, sitting up on your bed as you carefully wiped away your teary eyes. You hugged yourself for a moment, wings functioning as a cocoon while a hand tugged on your hair.

Today had been draining—both mentally and emotionally. Just like the day before, and the day before that. But you didn’t want to think about it, lest you start to cry some more and smear your face with tears this time. What mattered was that everyone was back on their feet again.

Since you didn’t bother changing into your sleepwear when you got home, you only checked your face in the mirror to see if your eyes were puffy or not. You then took in deep breaths, holding up your drooping wings before putting up a charming smile.

You couldn’t stay in the bathroom for long, quickly leaving to tread the path to Adam’s.

•••

“BOO!” Adam’s masked face suddenly peeked from the corner of his hallway, earning an indescribable scream from you as you jerked back. He burst out laughing, brows creased in confusion but also amusement. He couldn’t even make fun of you for getting scared. “What the—what the fuck was that scream?”

Recovering rather quickly as you blinked, you only smiled at him. You were expecting him to wait for you on his couch as his front door was left unlocked, but you weren’t complaining; his action took away any drowsiness you just had.

When Adam didn’t hear you laugh with him, his laughter subsided as he opened his eyes to look at your face. He raised his brows and placed the back of his hands on his hips. “What’s up with you?”

Shit. There was no way Adam was seeing through you.

“Nothing; I just love hearing you laugh.” You heard a tiny squeak in response. “Anyway, what did you make me come over for? Surely not just to scare me.” You moved past Adam and tightly crossed your arms, entering his spacious living room.

“Pshh, fuck no. You’re so easy to spook. Though that was a first. Didn’t know you could hit high notes, (Name).”

You didn’t know what to say to his…compliment? And sort of insult? Was it really either of them? Should you thank him? But in a sarcastic way? No, you weren’t known for being sarcastic, so he might think you were being genuine and look at you weirdly. And it would also seem highly egotistical.

Not as if Adam had much to say about that…

You tugged at your hair when you caught yourself with those thoughts. Shit, that’s so rude! You can’t think that! You shouldn’t think that!

You settled on an awkward chuckle, making yourself appear smaller as you averted your eyes to his TV space.

It was different, certainly. The modular couch pieces were rearranged into a pit sectional. And it looked as though he had chucked a bunch of pillows and one large blanket as an afterthought. It appeared messy, but at least it looked cozy.

“What’s this?”

“Hm? Oh, well, since you were taking your sweet ass time coming here, I thought to switch things up a bit.” You flinched when his head appeared right on your shoulder. “What’d ya think?”

“It looks super comfy.” Adam wore a goofy grin behind you as you walked closer to the area and noticed that he already prepared snacks on the low table. “Is this a way to say you wanna do a movie marathon?”

“You know it, baby.” He flew past you and landed on the sofa, patting the space beside him with a smile you just couldn’t reject.

•••

Heaven’s natural light beginning to peek through the open windows indicated that it was already dawn. Thank goodness you didn’t have work today.

You two—or rather, Adam—had settled on watching the film series, Die Hard. Every single one. You didn’t mind, but you didn’t understand why Adam invited you over if you two were just going to rewatch the film series for the eighth time.

He had also been pretty immersed in the large screen in front of him, so he hadn’t attempted to converse with you ever since the first movie started. In all honesty, he could have just watched them all by himself.

But you didn’t question it. This time was the same as the last seven, after all. You always concluded that maybe he just wanted someone to watch movies with, no talking necessary. Even if the no-talking part sounded a bit out of character.

Was it though? Because he did that quite often. For instance, he constantly brought you along to whatever mundane errands he had to do during the weekdays and never really talked with you unless he found something cool and pointed it out.

Although, the earlier times you tagged along with him on his errands, he kept yapping his mouth off about the ‘totally awesome’ things he does. He talked about music, his own albums, his band, women, sex, and himself as the first-ever man.

As time went on, however, the talking was replaced with silence. You wondered if he just ran out of things to say or if he found it unnecessary to talk anymore.

You also sometimes wondered what was going through his head when he thought you didn’t see him glancing at you while he was doing something he believed was boring.

The sound of Adam’s stomach rumbling broke you out of your train of thought.

You both looked at each other blankly as if either of you were to blame.

He blinked to break the eye contact between you. “(Name), I’m hungry.”

You snorted, facing ahead. “You ate all of our snacks before the first movie even finished.”

“Don’t blame me.” He hugged the pillow he held tighter. “I’m still fuckin’ hungry, though.”

You hummed as you reached for your pocket. “Do you want me to—oh. I…I forgot my phone.” You frowned. You never forget to bring your belongings.

Adam merely stared at you, unblinking.

You averted your eyes and held your legs tighter. “Uhm, We could get delivery if you want. Can you lend me your phone?”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” He casually tossed you the device before laying on his back and looking up at you. “I’m down for anything.”

His phone hit your knee before you could catch it, silently landing on the cushions. “Are you sure?” You picked it up, opened his unlocked phone, and stared at his basic home screen.

He didn’t really use his phone that often to know that it could be changed. He only really used it to fetch one-night stands or occasional dates, text, play music aloud, look at outdated memes, take random blurry photos, and right now, order delivery.

“Totally.” His crow’s feet displayed on his mask as he puffed out his cheeks.

“Because last time you said that, you didn’t like what I had to pick.”

“That’s because the 5 ʼn 2 is so fucking overrated!” he suddenly started to complain. Your wings ruffled. “Jeez, I swear, every fuckin’ time I take a chick out and ask her what her favorite eatery is, basic bitches always go, ‘Oh, bREaD & fIsH, ceRTAinLy’ or ‘bReAD & FiSh’S a cLAsSIC’” He used his hand as a puppet to imitate their words before waving it. “Like, helloooo? Can’t you see the joint that’s literally on the other side of the street’s a hundred times superior? It’s cheaper, too, unlike Bread & Fish. Overpriced ass. You get me, right—?”

“Then you pick!” Adam jumped at your volume, and your eyes widened upon noticing yourself. You quickly gave back his phone as you turned your face away from him, and he slowly took it with a weird look.

“Shit, chill, (Name). The fuck’s up your ass?” He kept his gaze on you before turning to his phone.

While he was serious about his opinions of your bland tastes, he didn’t think it was that personal. Your preferences were the same as everyone else and that was boring. He was just being honest. And you usually didn’t take the things he said that seriously.

“Adam, I’m sorry,” you spoke up after a moment of silence and ran a hand through your hair. “I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

“ʼs not a problem.” He was still a bit weirded out, but he was willing to shrug it off.

You insisted, however, “I mean it. I’m not mad at you.”

“Okay…?” he muttered when he saw a notification pop up from Lute. Her message consisted of how some of the exterminators got into a quarrel during roll call and the ones involved got injured in the process. She said she was going to discipline them.

Adam did not want to know what she meant by that and was most likely not going to stop by their place today.

“Really. I’m not. Sorry. It’s just that yesterday’s been…”

“Uh-huh…” At this point, Adam was not listening to anything you were saying. But when he still heard the static noise that was your words, he groaned. “Look, sweetie, I really don’t give a fuckin’ shit about your fuckin’ apology, ʼkay? I don’t fuckin’ care. Now what do you want?”

You saw Adam’s confused yet concerned expression after he looked up from his phone and immediately noticed that you were starting to cry. You instantly turned your face away as you carefully wiped your eyes.

“Sorry. Sorry. I’m not crying because of you.” You didn’t know if that was true. You didn’t know if you were crying because of his words or were crying because of everything else.

That was the first time he ever used a sweet petname for you in a long time. He only ever used that to demean or mock other people.

Shit. Stop thinking—you were going to cry more. But even after carefully wiping your eyes away, new tears kept flowing. You couldn’t stop. This was humiliating. You wanted to disappear. You didn’t want anyone to witness you in this state. It was mortifying.

“Shit.” Adam’s voice came out panicky as he held his hands out towards you, but he hesitated. Hesitated in what, he didn’t even know.

He…didn’t think you could cry.

Adam didn’t know what to do; this emotional shit wasn’t his thing. He couldn’t ask you to leave, he knew that much, but he didn’t want to leave himself. This was his place. Why should he leave?

So, he did the only thing he could do in this situation.

You suddenly felt something warm envelop you.

You didn’t look up, but you knew it was Adam. You could feel the texture of his robe on your hands and the side of your face. You could feel his hands on your shoulder blade, but you couldn’t quite feel his arms on you.

You stopped wiping your eyes for a moment.

No one had ever hugged you before when you were sad.

No one had ever let you be sad.

Adam heard you sob.

Fucking great. He made it worse. What the fuck was he supposed to do then?

But when he went to unwrap his arms, he felt yours slip around his midsection, pulling him closer than before as he grunted from your firm hold.

So you wanted to be hugged? Alright. Whatever.

Adam slowly hugged you back after you muttered a ‘sorry’ and loosened your grip.

The next seconds were silent, so when he heard muffled words coming from you, he looked down. You also looked up moments later when he didn’t respond, realizing he must’ve not heard you.

Your gaze softened as you two held eye contact, and with teary eyes, you smiled. “Thank you, Adam.”

Something about his expression changed, but before you could stare any longer, you felt a hand behind your head push you back to his chest as the arm on your back held you tight.

“Yeah, whatever…”

[little-diable]

The Chase – Draco Malfoy (smut)

Since y'all seem to enjoy my Draco fics that have some rougher smut in them, I couldn't stop myself from writing this. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Draco has been feeling frustrated for days, something that finally changes as he tells his wife that he's ready to hunt her down and remind her who she belongs to. Basically pwp

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, rough smut, tied wrists, dom!Draco, hide/seek, oral (f), some degrading

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!wife!reader (1.8k words)

Her eyes were focused on her phone, while her heart was racing in her chest, pounding with a strong beat that whispered to her, urging (y/n) on to prepare for what her husband had just texted her. Draco had been in some kind of mood for the past days, a rather snappish mood she hadn’t enjoyed being around, deciding to keep her distance while he worked through whatever he had struggles with at work. But the text she was now rereading for the tenth time told her that all the pent-up frustration would be left in the past after tonight. 

“You may run and hide from me, but tonight, I’ll catch you. xxx” 

Draco and her had done this a while back for the first time, letting him hunt her down before using her like a vessel for his frustration and anger, littering her body with marks she’d trace in the midnight hour with a proud smirk. She loved the chase, the thrill shooting through her body while her adrenaline spiked. 

(Y/n) knew that Draco would find her in no time, very well knowing that neither of them could go long without touching their significant other, especially when both were urged on by their frustration, their need and hunger for one another. She could already feel him buried deep inside of her, letting her walls clench around nothing at the mere thought of being fucked by her husband. 

Perhaps he’d use their blindfold, perhaps he’d tie her to the bed, while fucking her from behind, whatever it was he was about to do to her, (y/n) would take it all with a satisfied grin, ready to offer every inch of trembling body to her husband like a sacrifice. 

Tonight she’d let him play, tonight she’d let him win their chase – very well knowing that whatever he’d do to her would be her greatest win after all.

……

“Honey, I’m home!” Draco’s voice echoed through their house, ringing in her ears as she hid beneath their bed. It wasn’t a creative hiding spot, and yet it was the perfect place for them, knowing he’d find (y/n) in no time, to fuck her rough like she knew he would.

The sound of his feet meeting the wooden ground made her breath hitch in her chest, while picturing the suit perfectly clinging to his frame, with the first few buttons of his shirt undone, and how he was wearing his blonde hair slightly gelled back – a sight that would make her fawn over her handsome husband. 

“Where are you hiding, pretty girl?” She heard Draco step into the room next door, opening their dresser, and closing it again after a few more seconds. (Y/n) counted the passing by seconds, letting the numbers echo through her mind while Draco kept taking his time, stepping into their bathroom for a few seconds. 

“I can’t wait to fuck your tight cunt, while you scream my name, it’s the only thing I could think of today.” Draco’s voice dripped with something dark, something that drew a soft moan from her while she stayed hidden. His feet came into view as he entered the bedroom and closed the door behind himself, seemingly all too aware that she was hiding close by. 

“Fuck, honey, I will make you tremble, make you forget your name while you take my cock like you were made to do.” Without another warning he crouched down to reach for her, pulling (y/n) from her hiding spot with a satisfied grin. She barely got any time to understand what her husband was doing as he picked her up and threw her down on the bed. 

(Y/n)’s gasps echoed through the bedroom as she stared up at Draco, focusing on the smirk he wore, paired with that dark gaze that pushed heat straight to her pulsing bundle. Draco settled between her naked legs, only wearing a shirt of his and her already damp panties, to reach down and kiss her breathless. 

It had been days since he had touched her, let alone kissed her like this, a teeth clashing kiss that made their hearts race and their limbs tingle. Her fingers found their way to his blonde hair to tug on his roots, trying to pull her husband even closer while he shifted his weight onto his right hand as his other hand reached for their bedside table. 

“Give me your hands, pretty girl.” He murmured the words against her already swollen lips. (Y/n) wanted to protest, wanted to beg him not to tie her to her bed, but the warning gaze he shot her left her breathless, unable to speak a single word. Draco gently took her wrists to tie them to the cold metallic frame of their bed with the dark green rope he enjoyed using on her. “Such a pretty sight, but I think we’ll have to get rid of that shirt, I want to see all of you.”

“Draco,” the warning tone dripping from her voice left Draco chuckling as he reached for the small knife they used whenever they were high on the thrill, staring at one another while he’d trace her skin with the knife. All (y/n) could do was tug on the rope as he sliced the fabric of his shirt apart, exposing her naked upper body to his twinkling eyes.

“Fuck, look at you, baby.” His head dipped down to press a kiss to the valley between her breasts before his hand dropped the knife to cup her right one. She was a moaning mess, choking on her sounds while he pressed his middle against hers, letting (y/n) feel his hardening cock. 

“Fuck me, Draco, please, it’s been so long.” He spared her words no attention while he sucked on her hardening nubs, drawing gritty sounds from (y/n) – sounds that made his cock twitch in his suit trousers. Draco gave himself a few more moments to suck marks into her skin before he finally let his hands find her panties to move them down her legs.

The two held eye contact as he rose to his feet, while staring down at her to slowly undress himself. Draco was teasing her, enjoying the desperation tugging on (y/n)’s features while she watched him, unable to touch her husband. His shirt was dropped to the floor as his hands began to work on his belt and finally on his trousers and underwear to expose his hard cock to her wandering eyes. 

Precum was glistening on his tip as Draco slowly stroked himself, giving (y/n) a show as she could only tug on the rope and try to shuffle closer to him. She was impatient, burning from inside out, all because he made her feel this whirlwind of emotions, high on whatever he’d offer his wife. 

“Spread your legs for me, baby, show me how much you need me.” Her body blindly followed the command. She spread her legs for his bright eyes, letting him take in the sight of her arousal-covered folds, of her pulsing bundle, and the beautiful skin he’d kiss any moment now. Draco moved slowly, calculated as if he had thought of this strategy for hours on end, trying to figure out the best way to make her tremble in need. 

Their eyes kept searching on another, Draco settled back between her legs to let his tongue brush through her slit, moaning at the taste of her arousal. Both knew they wouldn’t be able to drag this out for much longer, needing to feel one another in the most intimate way imaginable. His tongue moved fast, brushing over her clit to draw a loud moan from (y/n) while she arched her back off the mattress. 

“Oh god, ‘missed you so much.” (Y/n) mumbled her words, confessions that left Draco smiling against her naked cunt. His bright eyes intently studied her, while he pushed two fingers into her tightness, spreading her walls to prepare her for his twitching cock. He allowed himself to fuck her for a moment or two before finally pulling away from her, set on pushing her over the edge with his aching cock buried deep inside of her. 

“You’ll take my cock like the good girl you are, and then I may allow you to touch me.” His words echoed through her mind, a small distraction for a second or two as Draco aligned himself with her heat, only to push into her as she nodded her head. Both moaned in unison at the familiar sensation, already high on the feeling of her tight walls clenching his cock, begging him to fuck her into oblivion. 

The rope burned into (y/n)’s skin as she kept tugging on it, praying to whoever was listening that she’d be able to feel him soon enough. Draco fucked her without holding back, letting his body meet hers with every ferocious thrust that left both moaning, choking on the sweetest sounds clawing through them. 

“Fuck, I love you, my perfect girl.” Draco’s words dripped with arousal, with a hunger that made the inferno burning deep inside of her grow, threatening to leave marks with its heat – marks that may never fade again. Her walls fluttered around his cock as his thumb found her clit, offering the extra stimulation she desperately needed.  

“Let me touch you, please.” (Y/n) whispered her words with wide eyes and parted lips, hoping that her husband would finally give in. It took Draco a few more thrusts before he followed the call and tugged on the rope, letting it drop to the mattress while her hands instantly found his face, pulling him in for a kiss. 

Their tongues fought for victory while Draco fucked her closer to the edge, making her see stars whenever he met her swollen spot. Her hands found their way down his neck to his shoulders, letting her fingernails scratch his skin to draw groans from him, and finally letting them claw into his skin to draw some blood. 

“Cum for me, baby, clench my cock while you scream my name.” He marvelled at (y/n) as she came, letting her head roll back to expose her throat to his wandering lips. Draco left his marks on her throat as he fucked her through her high, only following her down the edge as she panted his name again, like a prayer leaving her soft lips. 

“Don’t ever go that long without touching me, do you hear me?” (Y/n) whispered her words as he rested on her chest, letting them both of them relax as the sweet sensation clung to them, reminding them of one another’s love. 

“I promise, even though this was fucking worth it.”

[natsuslover]

☆.｡.:* yuji itadori bf headcanons

notes— i love my pookie yuji he’s the greenest green flag to ever exist and he would be a wonderful bf i js know it. if only gege would let him be happy…

ft. yuji itadori

content: sfw, fluff, cute innocent pining bc bro yuji’s in love

first things first, he’s SOOOOO lover boy golden retriever

his love language is absolutely acts of service bc he adores u and he loves showing how much he loves u by doing things for u

he likes taking u out to eat (his treat ofc) bc he wholeheartedly believes food is the way to a person’s heart (he’s right)

he loves watching movies and he’ll take u to all the human earthworm movies with him even if u don’t like them

he doesn’t mind that u don’t like them he’s just happy ur there

but he’s so cute and gets all excited when he’s explaining the movies to u that u end up getting into the franchise too

takes his jennifer lawrence poster down just for u 🫶

whenever he’s bored he follows u around like a puppy

like he’s lowkey so clingy bc he wants to be around u 24/7 but it’s cute

he’s very considerate, for example, if you’re carrying something heavy (actually it doesn’t even have to be heavy) he’ll immediately carry it for u without saying a word

he likes giving u nicknames but not like “babe” or “darling”

they’ll literally be the most random ass words and he thinks they’re the greatest nicknames

it takes A LOT for yuji to get jealous but when he does… i feel bad for whoever the jealousy is directed towards

he acts like a kid most of the time but he’s super protective of u

yaps abt u to nobara and megumi all the time to the point they know all the details of every date u guys have been on

he’s the type of bf to see a really pretty flower outside and say it reminds him of u

his favorite way of showing affection is giving big bear hugs

he wraps his arms around u and practically drapes his whole body on u and i just know it would be the warmest hug ever

there’s definitely been a few times where his feelings got so overwhelming he tried writing love letters to u but realized how horrible he is at spelling and writing so he asked megumi for help

he 100% goes to nobara for gf advice (like where to take u on dates and shit)

he texts u good morning every single day without fail

he also really likes nightly facetimes bc he loves when the conversation goes on for so long u start to fall asleep

he screenshots u sleeping for future reference

speaking of which, he loves taking random pics of u when ur caught off guard or not looking

and whenever he feels like he misses u he looks through all of them while smiling like a lovesick idiot

he’s such a gentleman omg and it comes so naturally to him because all he wants to is take care of u and make sure ur happy

knowing how much yuji cares for his friends and how loyal he is ik he would love u more than anyone or anything else for as long as he possibly could

this is shorter than i wanted it to be… i also haven’t posted in over a month bc i’ve been so lazy to do anything really but i’m getting back on the anime grind so expect a lot of writing!

[innerfare]

Blue Balls - Sabo: Part 2  

Summary: Sabo takes care of his blue balls; text below the cut

Pairing: Sabo x Afab!Reader

Genre: smut

CW: dirty talk, oral sex (Sabo receiving), mentions of penetrative sex

Word Count: 1,378

———

You kicked off your shoes and stood up, pulling your shirt over your head and slipping off your shorts- they were Sabo’s favorite, but he hadn’t even noticed you wore them, consumed as he was by his arousal. You figured you’d just have to wear them again tomorrow, assuming the two of you got out of bed. 

Sabo’s hands reached for you the entire time you undressed. His fingers grabbed at your legs and tugged at your panties when you pulled off the shorts, and when you climbed onto the bed, his hands found your breasts. He grabbed and squeezed, eyes glued to them as he kneaded them, amazed by the way they moved. 

“Sabo.” 

He looked up in time for your lips to catch his. A fire ignited inside him. He met you tongue first, not even trying to be restrained as he forced his way into your mouth. He wanted to swap as much saliva with you as possible, to suck on your tongue and bite your lips like the animal he was. 

Your hands massaged his shoulders and chest. You could barely keep up with the pace of his kiss, if it could even be called that. He always started with sweet pecks before things heated up, but you had been gone so long, both of you dove straight into the boiling water. You felt the heat against your breasts and core, your boyfriend pulling you into his lap and grinding against you. It was all you could do to keep your panties on. 

“Sabo.” Breathless, you pulled away. “I missed you.” 

“I missed you, too.” He leaned back in for another kiss, but you didn’t let him recapture your lips. “Y/n, please.” 

“I missed kissing more than just your mouth,” you told him, wiping your lips on your arm. You nipped at his jawline before pulling his earlobe into your mouth and tugging. “Let me suck you off, big boy. That’s what you were thinking about, right?” 

Sabo let out a sound somewhere between a groan and a whimper. “I want to fuck you, too, though. And I won’t last long enough for both.” His cheeks burned with embarrassment at his confession, but he thought admitting it was worse than you expecting him to run a marathon and hum tapping out unexpectedly. 

A small giggle escaped your lips. “I’m sure you’ll be ready to go again pretty fast,” you said in his ear. “You always are.” 

He puffed up his chest a little bit. If you were okay with splitting it into multiple rounds, he’d make those rounds the best of your life. “Fuck, I love you.” 

“Mmm, I love you, too.” You planted a sloppy series of kisses on his cheek, and it wasn’t long before your lips migrated back to his lips. You devoured him, your excitement piquing as you imagined his cock in your mouth. 

It took all your strength to break away from his lips and kiss down his chin, though once you reached his throat, you found it was even better. You could feel his pulse when you pressed your lips against his throat, could feel his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down when he swallowed, could even hear his moans better. 

You left a string of love bites down the line of his neck.  

When you reached his hard chest, he tangled his fingers in your locks and sank deeper into the pillows. His eyes fluttered shut as he got lost in the sensation of your lips on his skin, the greatest sensation in the world- better than food, better than fighting, better than freedom, better than anything. 

“Sabo,” you said in that sweet voice of yours. “Let go.” 

“What? Why?” He blinked down at you. 

“I need to put my hair up.” 

“What?” He tightened his grip on your hair, as if you might take it away from him and leave the bedroom, never to retune again. “No!” 

You giggled at the panic in his voice. 

“I can hold it for you,” he insisted. 

“The last time you did that, I was brushing knots out of it for a week.” 

“I won’t tangle it this time.” He smoothed your hair as if to prove he could be trusted to hold it out of your face without making a complete mess of it. “I won’t, y/n. Please, let me hold it for you.” 

You didn’t believe him for a second, but you also couldn’t say no to that face. 

With a resigned sigh, you helped him gather your hair into a makeshift ponytail. Once it was out of the way, you turned your attention back to him. You could only just make out the scars on his chest, abdomen, and arms in the dim light, scars you ran your fingers and lips over while Sabo gasped and moaned. 

You had been consumed by thoughts of his warm body the entire time you had been away and almost couldn’t believe you had him under you once more. 

Trailing your lips down his stomach, you smiled to yourself as you felt his muscles twitching beneath you. When you finally reached his cock, you sat back and pushed his legs apart. He didn’t even try to fight you. 

Sabo pushed himself up against his pillows so he could reach your hair more easily, taking his job very seriously. He focused as hard as he could on keeping it out of your face for fear thinking about your lips would cause him to ejaculate before you even got to the best part. As desperate as he was to get off, he couldn’t stand the thought of blowing his load before you wrapped those lips around him. 

Long and thick, rock hard, with full balls and a little bit of blonde hair around the base, Sabo was so pretty you couldn’t help but lick your lips. You brushed your thumb over the biggest vein, perhaps your favorite part, before pressing a kiss against the head. 

Sabo let out a long string of groans. He sounded like he was trying to talk but couldn’t quite form words. 

You started with the balls, running your soft tongue over them before pressing a few kisses into the sensitive skin, smiling as Sabo came undone. You flattened your tongue at the base of his cock and ran it up the length, flicking it a few times when you hit the tip. You went back down and began sucking from the side, leaving enough saliva for your hand to glide easily up and down. 

With a firm grip on him, you took the head into your mouth. You sucked and flicked your tongue, and just when he thought he couldn't take your teasing anymore, you dipped your head low and took his full length into your mouth. You went up and down, pumping your hand along his length each time your mouth left him.  

Sabo’s toes curled. He didn’t know what to do with his legs; he tried not to kick them. He tried not to buck his hips, either, but to little avail. One hand in your hair, the other tangled in his sheets, he could do nothing but grunt and groan as you sucked the tension out of his cock. All of the pleasure that had been evading him washed over him with your touch. 

“Fuck.” He felt his balls tighten. “Oh, fuck. Y/n, I’m-” 

You hummed with him in your mouth, and he snapped. He shot his load into your mouth, overcome by the comfort of cumming somewhere warm. It lasted several seconds longer than his usual orgasms, dredging up the stress that had settled in the recesses of his body and ejecting it. 

As he finished, he reluctantly let go of your hair. 

You swallowed every last drop, sitting back when he finished and wiping your mouth. You smiled down at him, so very taken by the sight of him sprawled across his bed, chest rising and falling rapidly. Just when you moved to get up, thinking he would want something to eat between rounds, he grabbed you and dragged you underneath him. 

“Never leave again,” he panted. “Not for that long. Never.” 

With a smile, you pressed a kiss into his cheek. “Never.” 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[itsnotmourn]

breakfast date with a side of death glare

art trade with @eatyourmaker !! except i went overboard and made my part into a comic HEHE

fanfic below because i’m not sure how to alt text this without going overboard :’3

———————— A TREAT YOU DESERVE

“How about you tell me what you want for breakfast? My treat.”

Evermore places his hand on Rick’s back as he lets the tired man think.

It’s a cold winter morning. Although the sky is a nice blue, clear and clean, it is awfully windy, and even when the air is still, the cold bites when it can.

The mayor of this small simple town finds himself at the iron gates of a large, ivory-coloured house. In front of its grand exterior is a carefully tended garden of colours. Tall trees almost caress the walls but not quite; they barely reach the upper level windows.

Of course, it’s nothing that impressive compared to his one-of-kind home but… Evermore could consider it competition.

That’s a thought for another day.

“Hmm…” Rick stands still in thought. “Maybe… Well, pancakes are a nice idea,” he begins.

As the tired man tries to figure out his options, Evermore suddenly couldn’t help but feel something at the back of his head. Like a burning feeling. A very gradual one but it’s there.

Rick continues to muse, inattentive. “Or eggs. Like eggs on toast? But I can make that at home though.”

Internally, Evermore excuses himself and tunes out Rick for the moment, trying to find that burning feeling. It annoys him.

As he glances behind himself, he peers over the iron gate’s finials and above the young trees, beyond the finely trimmed garden, Evermore finally spots his problem.

At the house itself, facing the open streets, there is an open window with a woman there, holding a steaming cup.

It is a woman he knows very well; a relative of his partner, Rick. Carmen, one of the few people that could rival the greatest man himself, stands by the window with one of the most seething scowls she could ever give. A familiar look but seething nonetheless.

Evermore’s face scrunches slightly. Ough, he groans in his mind.

He knows too well what words that glare of her’s tell and Carmen doesn’t even need to say anything. It is one of those ‘do something wrong or you will get it’ looks. In this case, Evermore thinks it’s probably something like ‘treat him right or you die.’

“I don’t know,” Rick concludes. “I can have anything. I’m not picky.”

But Evermore knew that. That was in his plan from the start.

“I hear you,” the mayor finally answers to Rick. “I’ll get you all that you ask for.”

Rick blinks. “No, just one thing is fine.”

“Nonsense!” Evermore pats Rick’s shoulder assuringly. “It’s my treat and a treat you deserve.”

[corroded-hellfire]

Jack & Coke - Eddie Munson x Reader

Collaboration with my darling @munson-blurbs

Summary: When your best friend Eddie betrays you, you head to The Hideout for a drink—and maybe something more.

Note: This is what comes from late night conversations and texts that say “I had another angsty eddie thought.”

Warnings: angst, family issues, smut, p in v, age gap but both parties are well over 18, oral, m receiving

Words: 4.8k

“And then you put your middle finger riiiiight here,” Eddie explains patiently, tongue slightly poking out of his mouth as he adjusts your grip on the guitar neck. “Perfect. Now, give a little strum.”

The A-chord doesn’t sound as good as when he plays it, but it’s an improvement since you’d started this impromptu lesson half an hour ago.The fact that butterflies flapped their wings in your stomach every time he touched you didn’t help your concentration, either. 

“I still like it better when you play,” you tell him shyly, lifting the guitar and handing it back to him. “You’re, like, a natural-born rockstar.”

Eddie grins, leaning back against your bed. “Yeah, well, you can’t teach this kind of bad-assery,” he teases, booping you on the nose playfully and inadvertently sending a shockwave of shivers down your spine.

You’re about to muster up the courage to nudge him back when you hear the front door open.

“I’m home!” Andrea shouts obnoxiously, making you roll your eyes. You miss the initial flash of fear that washes over your best friend’s face, mistaking his grimace for a mutual dislike of your older sister.

You know that everyone has issues with their siblings; even ones that are close-knit still have their share of rivalries. But your relationship with Andrea goes beyond the usual bickering. Since you were very young, Andrea has bullied and tormented you incessantly. As kids, Andrea would break her old toys and tell your parents that you did it, that way they would buy her newer and better toys. From the moment that Andrea hit puberty, she was the “hot one.” Never mind not being the “pretty sister,” you had to deal with being invisible because all eyes were glued to Andrea. Then you practically were invisible when you started high school and Andrea pretended she didn’t even know you. It didn’t matter that you’d never ratted her out for all the times she snuck out of the house after your parents went to sleep. But any little thing you did wrong, Andrea went straight to your parents and snitched. It probably wouldn’t have mattered if you squealed on your sister anyway since she was quite obviously your parents’ favorite.

When boys did talk to you, it was because they wanted to get to your sister. Some of them thought treating the little sister as a charity case would get them into Andrea’s pants. The only time it was ever different was when Eddie Munson started talking to you your freshman year. He plopped down next to you at your lunch table and started talking to you about the copy of The Hobbit you had been reading. At first you thought this was another ploy to get to Andrea through you, but the longer he talked about things far nerdier than the book in your hands, you figured this guy might actually just want to talk to you. It was an odd and gratifying feeling. The first time you’d mentioned that you were Andrea’s sister, Eddie actually seemed surprised. “You two share blood?” he said. “She’s a goddamn tornado that destroys everything in its path. And you…you’re like a rainbow.” It’s the greatest compliment you’ve ever gotten. 

As your friendship with Eddie grew, you began to tell him more about how Andrea treated you. How she’d hurl the meanest, most vile words your way with no provocation. You didn’t need to provoke Andrea, she was constantly on the offensive. “Why does she treat me like shit all the time?” you’d ask, and Eddie would reply, “She doesn’t need a reason. There’s just venom in her blood.” 

Andrea was the walking embodiment of those luminescent fish that were so beautiful and shiny on the outside, only to lure the smaller, weaker fish in so that it could crush them. Her jet black hair was always shiny and never a strand was out of place. No blemish ever dared to appear on her skin, leaving her with the smoothest, most glowing complexion. Her curves seemed to be perfectly sculpted, defying anyone to not look at her and either want to be her or want to be with her. Obviously, it was impossible for you to keep up with her current flavor of the week. 

“Are you going to play for me?” you ask as Eddie just sits with the guitar in his lap. You scoot until your thigh is pressed up against his. It would be so easy to tilt your head and rest it on his shoulder. The comforting scent of cigarettes, Old Spice deodorant, and a hint of weed floods your senses as you try to be as close to him as you can—without being creepy about it, you remind yourself. 

“I, um,” Eddie mumbles, his eyes watching your bedroom door intently. “I thought you said your sister wasn’t going to be home?”

“I didn’t think she was,” you say with a shrug. “But you know Andrea, she does whatever the hell she wants. Maybe she met her quota for making children cry today and decided to come home early.” 

Eddie nods and looks back down to the guitar in his lap. He swallows so loud that you’re able to hear it, which has you raising your eyebrows. 

“Look, I know she’s demonic,” you say. “But she probably doesn’t even know we’re in here. Besides, if she was going to torture someone, it would be me, not you.”

“I don’t want her to hurt you. I’d rather she hurt me, actually,” Eddie says, still looking down at the guitar in his lap. More words rest on the tip of his tongue, but the bedroom door flying open stops him. 

“I said, I’m—oh, hi, Eddie,” she trills, giving a tiny wave. “Come back for round two?”

Round two? You glance over at Eddie, waiting for an explanation, but he just turns beet red and sheepishly drops his gaze. 

Andrea takes in the puzzled look on your face and laughs harshly. “Aw, did your best friend not tell you?” There’s nothing but malice in her tone, and you feel like a rock landed in your lower abdomen. “Well, let me fill you in.”

“N-No, I should…” Eddie starts, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “I swung by yesterday…I forgot you’d picked up that extra shift…”

Andrea rolls her eyes impatiently. “Write a goddamn novel, why don’t you?” she snaps. “I’ll summarize: you weren’t home, I was, and Eddie and I hooked up.”

“H-Hooked up?” The butterflies now have lead wings, and you feel the bile rising in your throat. 

“We slept together,” Eddie clarifies softly at the same time that Andrea quips, “we fucked.”

You try to blink back the tears that mist over your eyes. Your sister knows how you feel about Eddie; you weren’t naïve enough to tell her, she snooped through your diary and has been teasing you about it ever since. And while Eddie has no idea about the massive crush you’ve been harboring, he certainly is aware of how awful your sister is. His betrayal stings one thousand times worse. 

“Your bed is really great for sex,” Andrea sneers as you stumble to your feet. “Not that you’d know.”

This has to be a nightmare. You’re going to wake up at any moment, and the idea of Eddie and Andrea sleeping together will be a figment of your overactive imagination. It has to be, there’s no other explanation. But when you glance down at Eddie and see the shame that fills his face, you know. It’s real. Your best friend betrayed you in possibly the worst way he could have done so. All to get his dick wet.

“What the fuck?” It’s all that you can get out of your mouth. You suddenly feel like you’ve run ten miles. You’re lightheaded, your pulse is racing, and sweat is beginning to break out along your hairline. Eddie sets the guitar down and stands up. He reaches for you and you flinch away and pull back from him. The look of hurt that flashes in his eyes would normally make you want to wrap him up in your arms. But now? Now that you know that he fucked your sister in your bed, you don’t want him to ever touch you again. 

“Sweetheart, I’m—”

“Don’t you fucking call me that,” you snap. Looking past him, you can see your sister’s face is full of glee as a self-satisfied smirk settles on her lips. “What was in it for you, huh? Just to hurt me?”

Andrea scoffs and brings a hand up to her chest, reminding you of a southern belle clutching her pearls. “Are you insinuating that I don’t have feelings for dear Edward?”

Eddie rolls his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. Yeah, Eddie, you want to say, that’s the girl you slept with. 

“I would never insinuate that you have any feelings at all. Pretty sure you were born with a lump of coal in your chest instead of a heart. Come here, I’ll stab you with my letter opener and we’ll see the black blood come fucking rushing out,” you seethe. 

“Always so dramatic,” Andrea says with a sigh. “That must be why Eddie doesn’t reciprocate the silly little crush you have on him.”

Eddie’s eyes snap to you, and at any other time, you would’ve said him finding out is the worst possible thing to happen to you. But that’s been usurped now, so you really don’t care how he’s going to react. 

“Must be,” you retort, “or maybe he’s only into psycho bitches.” Clenching your fists, you turn to face Eddie. “I hope her pussy was worth it.” You storm over to your bedroom door, pushing past the both of them. Before you leave, you spin around to face the traitors. “I never want to see either of you again.” You don’t wait for either to respond; you just grab your bag and rush out to your car. 

You’re not sure why you drive to the Hideout; maybe it’s because you still want the comfort of Eddie, but you tell yourself it’s because the drinks are cheap and payday isn’t until next week. 

“I’ll take a Jack & Coke, please,” you tell Lou. The bartender nods, and you add, “you can put it on Eddie’s tab.” He is the reason you’re drinking, after all. 

The thought of their bodies melded into one, him holding her the way you’d only dreamed he’d hold you—it’s too much to bear. And now, like an idiot, you’d left them alone to do it again. 

Lou slides your drink over with a small smile, the most affection you’ve ever seen from the usually stoic man. You down the drink, and then another, frowning when you get the urge to break the seal. 

“Be right back,” you mutter to no one in particular, hoisting yourself off of the barstool and traipsing towards the restroom. You get a decent glimpse of yourself in the mirror: eyes still slightly puffy from when you’d been crying in the car, mascara smudged and smeared. A flick of the makeup wand has you looking a bit perkier already, and you practice your smile a few times before walking back out. 

Lou has another drink ready for you, cocking his head towards the other side of the bar. “Paid for by that gentleman over there,” he informs you, raising his eyebrows. 

You look to where he’s motioning and see a gorgeous older man giving you a little wave. His black t-shirt clings to his muscular frame, and you can’t help but notice the way his biceps ripple with each small movement. He looks to be in his mid- to late-forties, but his hair doesn’t show any signs of thinning. Short brown curls cover his scalp, cropped closely at the base of his neck. His upper body is covered in tattoos, and you immediately wonder where else he has ink. 

You saunter over to him, batting your eyelashes flirtatiously, just as you’d watched Andrea do countless times before. “I guess I should be thanking you for this drink,” you say, giggling and taking a sip. 

“Pleasure’s mine,” he offers, grabbing his green Heineken bottle and taking a swig. “Looked kinda sad, and pretty girls should always have a smile on their face.”

“It worked.” You rest your hand on his bicep, surprising yourself with your own brazenness. Or maybe it’s just tipsiness?

“You gotta name, pretty girl?” the mystery man asks, and you tell him. “Pretty name, too. Damn,” he muses. “I’m Jack. Just, uh, moved back to Hawkins a coupla days ago.”

“Moved back? So you don’t need the welcome tour?” you pout, earning a chuckle from him. 

“Pretty girl, I’ll take you up on anything you offer.”

You consider his proposition. “Let me finish this drink and we’ll see.”

His hand rests on your thigh as he tells you that he’s got a job lined up at the local power plant—immediately reminding you of Wayne, but you push the feeling down. You allow yourself to get lost in his sky blue eyes, somehow both haunting and comforting. 

You kill out your third drink, contemplating ordering one more. Either Jack was paying, or Eddie was, so all you had to worry about was how drunk you wanted to get. 

“What had you all upset earlier, hm?” Jack asks, running his thumb along the denim above your knee. “Don’t tell me it’s some stupid boy.”

“Fine, I won’t tell you then.” You giggle again—you can’t seem to stop giggling around him. “He’s not worth the time.”

Jack shakes his head. “He’s not. You don’t need to play his games. What you need,” he says seriously, “is a real man.”

“And where can I find one?”

His lips crash against yours hungrily, gently parting them with his tongue. He tastes like the hoppiness of beer and stale cigarettes, but you don’t mind. 

“That tour you mentioned earlier,” he murmurs in your ear, “can the first stop be my place?”

You give him a pout, leaning forward into his space, just enough for him to get a peek down your shirt. “I don’t know if I can wait that long.”

Jack looks around the bar, doing a doubletake when he sees the bathrooms in the back corner. He slides from his seat and takes one of your hands in his. There’s a smirk on his face as he walks backwards towards the bathrooms, tugging you along.

“Just as impatient as I am,” he says. “We shouldn’t wait any longer then.”

Without taking notice of if it’s the men or women’s room, you follow Jack in as he nudges a bathroom door open with his elbow. He’s quick to lock it behind you and his hands are instantly on you, grabbing at your waist as his mouth finds yours again. The kisses are urgent and sloppy, no teasing, just devouring one another. Your hands move down to his beltbuckle, making quick work of it and working on the button of his jeans. Strong, large hands grope over your chest as you shove his pants down, but just as you break from the kiss to get down on your knees, there’s a loud banging on the bathroom door. You’re startled and grab onto Jack’s arm, and he’s quick to wrap it around you reassuringly.

“Not in my bar!” Lou shouts through the door. 

Well, you think, can’t show my face at The Hideout again. Your face is burning in embarrassment as Jack huffs an awkward chuckle and resituates his belt. 

“I guess my place is the first stop on the tour then. That is, if you still want to?” Jack’s eyes meet yours, obviously wanting to convey that if you’re no longer interested, that’s fine. But a little embarrassment was nothing compared to how you felt earlier in the day.

“I want to,” you say. For emphasis, you grab the back of his neck and give him a kiss that proves how much you want him. When you pull away, there’s a dazed smile on his face that may be the most endearing thing you’ve seen all day. He takes your hand in his and slowly opens the bathroom door. Luckily, Lou isn’t standing on the other side of it, but you’re sure he’s not far off, watching to make sure the two of you leave. 

You force yourself not to look over at the bar as you and Jack head towards the door. It’s not like you think the bartender will tell anyone, but you can’t bring yourself to meet his eye at the moment. Jack’s car isn’t the nicest, but that’s not something you ever cared about anyway. If it gets you from point A to point B, that’s all that matters. The gentleman that he is, he holds the passenger’s side door open for you and you slip inside. He practically runs around to the driver’s side and it makes you let out a soft giggle. When’s the last time someone seemed this eager to spend time with you? And seem to be genuinely enjoying it?

The ride to his place is only about five minutes, and Jack makes sure you stay in the car until he can come around and open the door for you again. The apartment complex isn’t the nicest either, but what was in Hawkins? His place is on the first floor and you watch his hands as he fumbles with his keys. They’re large, calloused, from what you can only assume is years of work. Staring at them just makes you want to have them all over your body even more. 

As soon as he swings the door open, he’s all over you again. Frantic kisses keep his lips connected to yours as the two of you clumsily make your way to his couch. The material is worn, but not dirty, and you find yourself once again fumbling with his belt as he sits on the cushions.

“Picking up where we left off?” Jack teases, throwing his head back in ecstasy as you get back on your knees and take him into your mouth. The saltiness of sweat and pre-cum hits your tongue, his cock edging towards your throat when he brings his hands to the back of your head and helping you find the perfect rhythm.

“J-Jesus Christ,” he hisses, bucking his hips slightly and watching the tears involuntarily pooling along your lash line. “First time back in that dive bar in years, and I managed to find the girl who gives the best head in Hawkins.”

As if to prove his point further, you cup his heavy balls as you lick up and down his shaft. You keep at it for a few minutes, swirling your tongue around his overly sensitive tip before he pulls away.

“You’re good–too good; but ‘m not gonna lie to you,” he admits when you stare up at him with a puzzled expression, “I don’t bounce back as fast as those college guys you’re probably used to, and I gotta be inside your pussy tonight.”

You nod, tugging your shirt above your head as he helps you shimmy out of your jeans. “Like what you see?”

Jack doesn’t answer right away; just unhooks your bra and watches it fall to the floor. His gaze immediately snaps back to your bare breasts, beckoning you over to straddle his waist. His hard length presses against your lace panties, and the two of you moan in tandem.

“I don’t think you need these,” he mumbles, running his thumb over the lace before tearing them off completely. His middle finger easily finds your clit as he makes slow, deliberate circles.

You can’t help the way you grind against his touch, begging him to stretch you so good. The finger drags through your folds before he slips it inside you.

“So wet already, hmm? Pretty girl must need another finger.” You cry out in pleasure as his forefinger breaches your hole, pumping faster until you feel the familiar tension building in your core.

“N-Need your cock inside me,” you manage, barely able to formulate a thought, let alone a coherent sentence. 

He reaches into the pockets of the pants he discarded and fishes out his wallet to grab the foil-wrapped condom tucked away. Your eyes watch hungrily as he slips it over his cock, fucking his fist a few times to make sure he’s ready for you. His other hand grabs your waist and helps guide you until you’re hovering over his cock. Slowly, you begin to slide down, both of you letting out a groan as he first enters you. The stretch feels so good and from the way Jack’s squeezing his eyes closed and biting at his lower lip, you’d say it feels good for him as well.

“Shit,” he mumbles. “Gives the best head and has the tightest pussy.”

Your only response is a whimper as you lower yourself even further, letting more of his cock fill you up. Once you no longer need your arms to steady yourself, you brace your hands on Jack’s chest. When your hands meet the fabric of his shirt though, you frown. Unable to form words as he finally bottoms out inside you, you tug at the dark material of his shirt, hoping he gets the hint. Reluctantly taking his hands off of you, he maneuvers out of his shirt and tosses it on the floor with his jeans. Most of his chest is covered in ink and you find your eyes trailing the different designs as you rock your hips back and forth. You slide your hands down to rest on his abdomen, since there’s no tattoos there, and you can get a better view of the artwork above. A snake is curled near his right collarbone and a little beneath that there are some sort of wings, but you��re not sure if it’s meant to be an angel, a bird, or something else. On the left side of his chest there is a bird, and it looks like a crow. There’s also a small “E” down near his heart that you can only assume is for an old girlfriend. 

Jack starts rocking his hips up to meet yours and it has your mind completely forgetting about the tattoos as you close your eyes in pleasure. His hands feel rough where they rest on the skin of your waist, but it feels so good when he slides them around to the front and grabs your breasts. You give a particularly hard thrust of your hips when his thumb grazes over your right nipple. There’s a breathy chuckle below you as he sees how sensitive you are to his touch. 

“Feel good, huh?” Jack asks. Breaths becoming more shallow, you nod your head. That’s not good enough for him, though. He gently pinches your nipple, just enough to get your attention, not enough to hurt. “Use your words for me, pretty girl.”

“It’s good,” you say. “So fucking good.” 

“Tell me how it feels.”

“So deep,” you say through a moan. “You’re so big. I feel you everywhere.” It’s true. He’s definitely the largest you’ve ever been with, and in your position, it feels like he’s splitting you open. His arm wraps around your middle as he adjusts himself so he’s sitting up more, your faces closer together this way. As your eyes slip closed again, his lips settle on yours, licking into your mouth hungrily. His teeth graze your bottom lip and it causes you to moan into his mouth. 

“You’re close,” he says. It’s not a question, but a bonafide statement; he already knows your body all too well. “Cream my cock, pretty girl. Just let go f’me.”

The coil snaps as he thrusts into you harder and faster than before. He spills into the condom with a groan of your name but doesn’t pull out right away. You keep him inside you as the two of you catch your breath, coming down from your highs.

“I should go,” you murmur, realizing that there is no way in hell that Andrea won’t rat you out for coming in late and smelling of sex. “Could you give me a lift back to the Hideout so I can get my car?”

Jack nods, discarding the used rubber in a nearby waste bin as you get dressed. You start to look for your underwear before remembering how he destroyed it, and it has you getting wet all over again. 

He kisses you one last time in the bar parking lot. “Sorry I couldn’t stick around for round two,” you tease, “but maybe I’ll catch you here another time?”

“I sure fuckin’ hope so.”

You’re in your bedroom a few days later, frantically searching through your cassette collection for your favorite AC/DC tape. It’s not in the “As” section, where it would normally be, and you realize with a sinking feeling in your stomach that you’d left it at Eddie’s a few weeks ago.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you mutter. He was the only one allowed to borrow it–you’d gotten it signed by Angus Young when you saw the band in concert, and it meant everything to you. You needed it back.

The drive to Eddie’s trailer seems to fly by, now that you’re dreading facing him. You knock on the door once to no answer, but his van is parked in front, so you knock again, louder this time.

“I need my AC/DC tape,” you snarl as soon as he opens the door.

He rubs his face, combing his fingers through his hair. “Can I drop it off later? And then maybe we can talk?” he asks meekly.

“No.” You shake your head and put out your hand. “Go get the tape and give it to me now.”

Eddie glances around the trailer nervously, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Look,” he starts, “now’s really not a good time…”

You scoff. “Why? Are you fucking another one of my family members? A cousin or something?”

A brief look of hurt flashes across Eddie’s face. He shakes his head and looks down at his feet before meeting your eyes again. “No. No, I wouldn’t…” he trails off with a sigh, sensing it’s useless—and he’s right. “My dad’s here.”

That’s one of the last things you expected to come out of his mouth. Your eyebrows raise in shock as you stare at him. Eddie hadn’t seen his father in years. Didn’t want to, according to him, no matter how many times his dad reached out. The relationship was tumultuous to say the least, but you felt you never had the right to offer any advice since you couldn’t relate to his situation. And Eddie never asked, so you weren’t going to say anything. 

“Your dad?” you ask, just wanting to clarify. 

“Yeah,” Eddie says. He keeps speaking, but movement in the trailer behind him catches your eye. You blink a few times to make sure you’re seeing what you think you are. An airy giggle bursts out of you, drawing both the attention of Eddie and the man in the living room—Eddie’s father, apparently.

“What?” Eddie asks, brow furrowing in confusion. He looks behind him to see his dad, then back to you, unsure of what is making you laugh. “What’s so funny?”

Eddie’s dad stares at you, eyes widening as he comes forward to stand next to his son at the door. The shit-eating grin on your face must be confusing both of them, but it’s wholly impossible for you not to find this whole situation highly amusing. 

“Eddie?” his dad asks. “How do you know the pretty girl from the bar?”

Your ex-best friend’s gaze shoots to his father, head moving so fast that the curls whip around his head. Seeing them next to one another, you can see the resemblance. About the same height and build, same nose, and both covered in ink. Their curls are roughly the same color even if one has brown eyes and one has blue. 

“W-What?” Eddie asks, looking from his dad back to you.

“Hi, Jack,” you say, giving the older man a wink. 

“Wait, what the fuck?” Eddie asks, the color draining from his face. You wait a beat while the realization sets in. “She’s…he’s…” He turns back to you. “You fucked my dad?”

You laugh, shrugging as you reply, “Guess so.” You waltz past your bewildered friend–ex-friend– grabbing Jack’s hand as you lead him back to Eddie's bedroom. 

“Wanna help me look for my tape?” you ask, hooking a finger through his belt loop and you bring your lips to whisper in his ear, “and maybe we can see about that round two?”

Jack grins, grabbing a handful of your ass as he follows you. “Looks like we found the next stop on our tour.”

[jolalibrary]

viii. leave me on red

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter eight of i like the way you

best friend! friends with benefits! frankie morales summary: what starts off as an offhand remark, quickly becomes a regular, scheduled 'stress relief'. the only problem is, both of you are in denial that you feel anything outside of friendship for the other.

warnings: friends with benefits. fwb! rules. flirting. idiots who are so in love it’s stupid. feelings. smut - phone/text/video sex. angst. dont hate the jo.

word count: 3.6k

an: the hugest thanks to @thetriumphantpanda for not getting mad at me for doing this to them.

You decided it in the minutes after he left, you were going to tell him.

Back pressed to the door, head resting, eyes closed. Tears stinging in the edges, burning. Your breath all strained and difficult—that is, until it decided what it wished to be, anyway.

Then, it shifted, transformed. It morphing into a sob that rumbles and cracks, shaking its way through you until your knees plead to crumble to the floor.

Because you had wanted to chase after him. Even ring him. Beg him to come back.

It wasn’t until you climbed back into bed, letting the scent of him wash over you, did you commit to the idea.

That’s when you begin rehearsing it, letting it move from rolling around your skull to dripping from your tongue. You did so as you made food, as you did chores. Perfecting it, choosing words so cautiously and carefully, swapping them out, practising it until it becomes a thing typed into a piece of your soul.

I’m in love with you Frankie. I have been for a while.

You don’t expect it to rival the greatest poets, and won’t find a place amongst the greatest scripts to ever be. It won’t be a speech that’ll be copied and used in film. But it’ll matter.

It will be meaningful.

It’ll have weight and carry truth—and you suppose, when all is said and done—that’s what will matter. It’ll be out there, free, existing—swirling between the two of you instead of caged inside of your chest.

Once you’ve spoken it, it should calm the storm inside of you; should quiet the choppy waves that collide within you, each one attempting to do more than knock you off your feet, but grasp you by the ankles and drag you under.

Confessing it, should do a lot of things. But that doesn’t bring you any comfort right now. If anything, it makes you feel sick, feeling only thorny anguish which keeps you up at night.

Never before had you been thankful for booking vacation time.

A chance to be, to sit around your home and pretend you don’t want to find a way to get to him, tell him it all now, let it unspool, even with no hope of it being the same as it ever was.

Because you could lose him. Ruin it all. Taint the one thing you cherish above all else.

It’s why you turn it over. Letting it worm its way from a box of doubts to a fully-fledged car crash you replay over and over as you lay in bed, fingers twitching, chest tightening, jaw clenching.

It’s only on the third day since you had made the decision, that you decide to share your plan with another soul.

Doing so over the phone—only one name came to mind. As soon as she answered and you spilt, you were greeted with only a joyous tone, it all full of pride. Your friend who is all knowledgable and wise, being nothing short of a cheerleader. Saw it coming, she tells you, been waiting for you to wake up and smell the coffee. You bite your inner cheek, doing so until copper swirls around spit, because you’ve known too (something you want to tell her). You’d been carrying it around for longer than realisation had been bestowed on her.

It’s easier not to say it. Swallowing it, letting it die in a pit of stomach acid, where other things you never say go to erode.

“Any advice?” you’d asked.

“Just be honest.”

On day four, you had gnawed the skin from your lip. It's sore, practically pulsing. It has its own heartbeat from how raw it feels.

Your nerves beginning to get the better of you, swarming and piercing, pecking away at your earlier confidence—stinging it with doubts, ones which spread, all poisonous, swelling out until it’s all you can feel.

His texts help.

One day I’ll get you back up in a heli. Only if I can sit between your legs like last time. Can sit anywhere you want, baby.

You’re not sure how it’s possible that miles away he can make your day better and your pussy clench around nothing all at once. Your body missing him—just as much as your head, heart and soul. Thighs pressing together, all your earlier thoughts popping like bubbles as you read his words over, and over, and over. A whimper grows in the back of your throat, hammering on the back of your teeth to be released.

Flicking your eyes up, you catch your appearance in the mirror.

The way your skin is just lightly sheened with the droplets from your shower—having been in a rush to reply than dry yourself. So much so, the air tinged with the scent of your shampoo and body wash. It’s thick, and heavy, your skin warming under the effect of his words making it more prominent, evident.

Smirking, you slide your hand until it undoes the robe of your dressing gown—letting it gape, the cool air brushing over once warm skin, until it pebbles, the peaks of your nipples hardening as you take a breath, and snap. There, immortalised, you stand—positioning your phone, ensuring the camera cuts off your eyes, beginning at the base of your nose, capturing the white of your teeth against your bottom lip, the white robe hanging, parted, framing the bare skin under it.

And you don’t think, you just send.

No caption, no message.

Just the sound of the whoosh as your heart hammers, beats, and thumps in the milliseconds it takes before you see the speech bubble of his reply.

Fuck, baby. Wish you were here.

Bending down to kneeling, you shimmy the fabric from your shoulders—pooling it in the creases of your elbows. Positioning yourself so your hand can be seen perfectly between your thighs, keeping yourself hidden, just a fraction. You ensure your breasts are on show, arm shifting to push them closer together, before you smirk—no, you think. Shifting your expression to a smile, a little one, which grows bigger and larger just as you click the shoot button.

It begins, a slow-motion capture of your disrobe, of you seating yourself down on the floor in front of your mirror, taking instruction through his texts—positioning yourself like a doll. The last being on your rear, soles flat to your carpet, thighs spread, head back as your neck elongates.

You’ve never felt more beautiful, even exposed. Eyes don’t linger on the things you usually pick apart first thing in the morning, before you dress for another day, and they don’t linger on the parts you catch in the corner of your eyes before you shower. You just see radiance, shadow-kissed skin that is being bowed to through a screen.

Fuck you’re gorgeous. Can see how wet you are. You need me, baby? Always, Frankie.

Your finger sliding along your inner thigh, tips brushing over before parting your folds. It won’t be enough, he’s ruined you—made it impossible not to wish for him, crave those thick, long fingers that both keep things hovering in the air and you hovering over space, time and existence.

“Frankie,” you moan, to no one but you.

Curling, sinking deeper until—

Can I call you?

You don’t reply, you just call. The distinct sound of a request to video echoes around the room as you slow your ministrations, a low whimper escaping as he connects, as his face fills the screen that's cast to the side, his own view of your ceiling.

He says your name, quiet, more questioning. Your trembling hand moves, picking it up as the other remains buried deep inside you, lifting your phone, giving him a view, a taste, a sight.

“Tell me what to do,” you whine.

Watching him as he drinks as much of you in as he can, commits you to memory, skates his eyes over every pixel, not wanting to miss a single one, before he clears his throat, before he carries you in his phone to his bed.

Licking your lips, you release a breathy sigh—one that begins in the depths of your stomach, rising up and fluttering out. Almost carrying a moan as you find that spot inside of you, the one which makes you boneless, thighs threatening to tremble.

“You want me to keep my fingers—“

“Faster,” Frankie stammers, “Want you to move those perfect fingers a little faster for me. Think you can do that?”

Nodding, you roll your lips, heat washing out over you, gripping the phone tightly.

“Fuck, baby. Y’know how good you look right now?”

You heave out his name. It building, fanning out over nerves that tingle at the edges of you—making your fingers curl, heel of your palm catching the swollen bundle of nerves that makes the sound of what you’re doing that much louder, filthier, more obscene.

And you fucking love it.

Love all of this.

Love him—

“Wish I could bury my face between your legs—“

“—oh, shit—“

“—y’like the sound of that, querida?”

Your eyes flick to the screen, staring at him—a pang in your chest flooding outwards, it mixing with how much you wish he was here, desperate for it, half-wanting to beg him to get his ass over here and make a mess of you in front of your mirror.

“Touch yourself,” you say instead.

Swallowing back the rest, letting your head fall back, obscuring him from view as you slow your movements, teasing, edging yourself as your core twists, and electricity thunders in your veins.

“Want—fuck—wanna come with you.”

“Alright baby,” he says—as if it’s the most normal thing, as though anything the two of you are doing is normal. “Let’s do this together.”

You hope it’s not the only time he’ll say that to you.

Days drag when you clock watch. Hours take even longer.

It’s a thing you know, but you can’t help but do so all the same. Each time you check, you hope it’s closer to the time. The one marked in your calendar, the one which has been making you both nervous and elated all week.

It had only been when you stopped tidying, stopped moving things from one counter to the other, did you spot it—eyes land on it and never leave.

You're not even sure when he left it behind, but your eyes linger on the corduroy jacket near your door. It’s moss-green, hanging, growing in the corner of your eye and borrowing more of your attention than it should. You’re sure it grows vines, ones which tap on your shoulder when you’re able to forget it’s there, only to make you look over, and spot it all over again.

The worst thing about it, it looks like it's supposed to be there. As though the hook you had expertly hung, (correction: hammered a nail in and hoped for the best) was always meant to hang his things, be dedicated to it.

In truth, he acts like he’s supposed to be here.

Fitting, even if you’d never made a place for him outside of being his friend. Now, you see the outline of him, perfect cut out, a drawer which could host the bolts and bits from his pockets, the shelf which he could place his eccentric collection of DVDs from the sleepless nights during storms.

You suppose it’s why it continues to catch your eyes, your gaze lingering on it—knowing, without brushing your fingers against it or burying your nose into it, that it smells like it. That, in its own way, is spreading out that calming effect he has.

One you need now more than ever.

Hand wrapping around the handle of the knife, chopping, preparing. Eyes studying the recipe that is ingrained in you, one you could do with a timer and your eyes closed, but you need to stare at it, to read the handwritten notes and pretend for a second it’s not something you used to make for him all the time.

Before the rule, the one he made you agree to because you’d asked something from him.

Now, you just snort. Adding the ingredients to the pot, turning the heat down, as a soft simmer begins before you wipe your hands down on your towel. Because in time, you’d broken all of them, both for one another and for yourselves.

And that had to mean something. Had to be more than a coincidence or something that just was. It had to be underpinned by unsaid words and swirling emotions neither of you feel equipped to handle, yet feel more prominently than you know what to do with.

You make more of an effort in your clothes. Not for him, for you. A thrill sparks through you when you catch sight of yourself when you pass a mirror, catch yourself in the reflection of a window, your television. Because you look like someone who could confess your feelings, let your adoration be known. You feel like someone who will do it, can do it—a confidence which has been coming and going since you’d decided.

It’s only when you lay it all out (the glasses, the plates and the cutlery), does a stitch begin to appear in your carefully thought-out plan. One that digs, the needle-sharp, pointed, aiming to prick and make you bleed, smear across perfection and make it ruin. A thing you put off, able to argue with it, point out its stupidity.

Tonight could be the last time you see him.

Maybe, this thing the two of you had was all he had wanted—all he’d needed. Not an overbearing amount of emotions he can’t handle or begin to understand.

A thought you try to squash, shove down deep inside.

That is, until the bigger hand pushes the smaller one on, and it begins to create a hole inside your chest. It forming based on that earlier thought. That dread, that worry and concern which has been thickening in the back of your head for weeks now. Now, it's grown out of the walls you kept it behind. It widens with each passing minute until it’s close to an hour and it’s practically a sinkhole. It taking everything it can with it—happiness, courage, laughs and the smiles. Vanishing them, wiping them clean like they never existed, as every bit of wanted you had felt, was painfully plucked from you, tweezed until you were back to that horrid place you were before all of this began.

Except now, you felt too much. Unsure if you’re able to put a cork in it, trap it under just want him to be happy and content at being friends.

A sob escapes, just a little one.

But, it’s enough to widen the door. Allowing more of them to bubble up and appear, climbing forcibly up your chest as though they’ve been building a ladder and plotting their escape for the last few minutes.

Each rolling out, freeing, bursting into the air. Your body racked with them, trembling, shaking.

Your hand finds refuge on the counter, stabilising you, keeping you from falling into the hole of your own making. And your thumb brushes porcelain, the neatly displayed food you’d spent hours on, a declaration all on its own.

A—see, I broke the rules too, Morales—except, he hasn’t come. Hasn’t arrived.

Maybe he’d known. Maybe he’d decided that it was all too much, standing you up easier—you supposed it was much harder to face the person you’d been best friends with and break her heart to her face.

But, your Frankie would never do that. Except he isn’t yours, not really.

Even less so as time ticks far past running late into the zone of stood up.

And you feel dumb, stupid. A gnawing sensation growing in the place your love had once been, it twisting, tainting, painting everything it can in ruin and staining it in the disappointment you never thought he’d make you feel.

“Fuck,” you choke out, hand clasping your face.

Fresh tears, acidic and thick, hammer down onto your cheeks like a downpour. Layering on top of one another, blurring your vision, making your chest feel both heavier and lighter all at once.

Grabbing your phone, you don’t even think—unlocking it, finding the contact and clicking Message.

Are you free for a drink?

You should consider it, go to bed, wake up tomorrow and bury your feelings in something healthier like yoga or a walk—but you send it. Discarding your phone across the counter, it clattering, catching on the plate as you bury your face in your hands.

Tears, hot and thick—running down your wrists—not doing enough to numb you as you let them fall. Disbelief doubles as hope is swallowed whole, your throat filling with sobs you feel forced to let spill—etching their way into the silence, fracturing it, cracking what should be laughter, but is instead loneliness.

It’s why you’re thankful they reply with a yes, giving it no more thought as you blow out the candle in the centre of the table, ending the night before it even began.

Frankie wakes to darkness.

It’s a comfort, the way it blankets him, allows the little shadows to rest easy against the ceiling from his open curtains—it is all soothing, relaxing. It even almost allowed him to curl back into the comfort of his sofa. His blanket—the one you bought him—cast over the lower part of his legs.

Then he remembers.

Eyes widening, blinking furiously as he throws his legs from the sofa, hand grabbing—making all sorts of noise on his coffee table—until his phone screen illuminates and he sees the time.

Late it spells.

It all a blaze, just in the form of numbers.

Fucking late it bellows.

Disorientation wraps around him as he shoves himself up to stand, fingers tugging at his curls until he imagines they’re more frizz than defined. Not even thinking—just grabbing. Phone, keys. Shoes barely on his feet as he yanks open his own door.

Calling you.

It rings. And it rings. Each unanswered drone of it doing something to the fragility of his heart. Making it quake, crackle at the edges.

All week, he’d done nothing but think of you. Think of holding you, burying himself close against you, not even asking you to shed layers, but rather just lying with him. Take in the weight of you that he finds all but a comfort.

I love you, he had planned to whisper. Mark it against your neck, just under your ear. Write it against your lips if you let him. Burn it anywhere else until you’re nothing but tattooed in praise and adoration.

“Pick up, baby,” he mumbles.

Ringing you again in the car.

The drive over tense, silent—the occasional dial tone echoing around the bed of his truck. His knuckles whiten at each red light, shoulders practically under his ears when he pulls onto your street. Something knotting, all horrible, riddled with vines and sharpness that cut into him with each breath he takes.

He’s not sure if he should be worried or thankful your car is in the drive—because the house is plunged into darkness. His boots clatter against your wooden steps, hammering on the short porch as he cracks his knuckles against the door.

Its echo, comes back to him—able to travel around in the silence and come back with an answer.

You’re not here.

But he knocks again, and again. Tears prick at the corner of his eyes, something clenched around his stomach, tightening and tightening as your name falls, all pleading, an edge to it that he hadn’t known was possible. But then, he hadn’t known he could begin splitting down the middle, the seams coming undone, his own might and willing not able to keep him together as the realisation he’d fucked up the one good thing he had.

The one good thing he didn’t even really have, too cowardly to tell you—too fearful that you’d stare at him blankly and tell him you don’t feel the same.

Because he’s been drowning in it, in this, in you, for so long, he knows how to just about keep his head from going under. He had been sure he could do it for longer, could stem his feelings, push them down. Until, you slept against him, fitting perfectly.

Until he woke with his arm draped over your waist, your leg tangled in his, staring at him with wonder and awe as you traced your name on his back.

He should have told you then it was the best thing he’s ever woken up to. A sight he had only dreamt of, but never imagined could even be true.

Pushing your key into the door, he’s greeted by darkness. It hovering its hand to him, welcoming him, even if the cold chill of the place was more than unsettling. He wanders, feet almost dragging, half hoping to find you sat in the dark, because at least then he could begin to make it up to you.

You’re not.

Moving through to your kitchen, all set to pass through to your bedroom, when something makes his eyes pull to your table, and he sees it.

Eyes landing on the set-up, from the plates to the glasses, to the orange dish in the centre—and his heart drops to his feet. It landed with a squelch, a thud which vibrates through him to the tips of him.

You made him food.

You broke a rule. You broke the rule.

His eyes beginning to well up, stinging, until one falls.

“Fuck,” he whispers.

Letting his hand run down his face, staring at his favourite meal—unable to unsee how congealed it was, how long it’s been sat there, existing, waiting.

“Fuck.”

an: forgive me 😘

CHAPTER NINE ->

[janeyseymour]

Hey babe it’s me, I know I’m the greatest😭 but let’s get to the point. What if we got a one shot of Melissa thinking about popping the question 💍to reader and she talks to Barbara about it and she looks back on all the time she spent with El and reader and ultimately decides to do so.❤️❤️

Im a sucker for happy endings bro ✨✨

Love Thy Neighbor, Two Families Become One- pt 2

PART 1

WC: ~3.15k

That night, Melissa dreams of a life where you are officially her wife and Ellie is officially her daughter. That dream that shifts into a sort of hellish nightmare where both Gary and Jared are there, and she’s doing everything that she can do to protect you. And then it flickers into a dream where you aren’t around anymore, and because Ellie isn’t officially her daughter in the eyes of the law, she ends up back with Jared. 

That dream is terrifying enough for her to wake up breathing deeply and making sure that you were still breathing before going to silently check on Ellie in her room. The redhead lets out a sigh of relief when she confirms that it was indeed just her imagination running wild.

When the two of you wake up for the day, she’s a bit more lovey than she usually is. Her hands don’t leave your body, whether that just be holding your hand or a hand settled on your hip and squeezing lightly. There are more kisses pressed to your head than a normal day. When she and Ellie come back from the grocery store while you stayed home to clean, they both come home with flowers for you. While you aren’t complaining, you are a bit curious as to why she’s being so romantic today.

“Is it my birthday and I forgot?” you ask as you hold both bouquets of flowers.

“No, you’re so silly Momma,” your little girl giggles from next to your girlfriend.

Melissa’s lips are on your own softly. “We just thought Momma should know how much we love her.”

“Well, thank you,” you smile against her. Then you lift your daughter onto your hip and pepper her face is kisses while she squeals happily. “I love you both too.”

As you’re getting ready for bed that night, Melissa texts her work wife.

We gotta talk tomorrow morning.

About? Barbara texts back almost instantly.

You’re still awake?

Well, I was falling asleep…

Sorry. We’ll chat tomorrow?

I’ll ask again… about?

Y/N, Ellie, and me.

Oh lord, what did you do Melissa?

Nothin. Just… please?

Meet me in my room tomorrow morning after you’ve stopped for coffee.

When the two of you head in for work on Monday, Nonna’s words still haven’t left Melissa’s mind. The three of you walk into the school hand in hand, Ellie’s backpack slung over your girlfriend’s shoulder.

“Little girl, you have to hang with your momma this morning,” the redhead tells your daughter. “Mom has a meeting.”

“You do?” you furrow a brow. “On a Monday morning?”

“With Barb,” she tells you. “To talk about insurance and how all of that stuff is changing.”

“Auntie Barb?!” Ellie asks excitedly. “Can I at least come say hi and give her a hug?”

Melissa almost says no, but those puppy dog eyes are strong and she relents. “But very quickly.”

“Wait, insurance is going to be changing?”

“There’s a possibility,” she tells you, although you don’t know that she’s referring to the fact that it might change because she’s contemplating asking you to marry her.

“Should I sit in on this meeting?” you ask her, concerned.

She shakes her head. “You just worry about El, and I’ll fill you in later.”

“Okay,” you sigh as you drop your things in your room. “Where are you meeting her?”

“Just her classroom after we get our coffees,” Melissa says.

After you’ve gotten your coffees, the three of you head down to the kindergarten wing. Ellie, of course, sprints ahead yelling Barb’s name as she goes.

“Auntie Barb!” Ellie is giggling and clinging to your girlfriend’s best friend by the time you both catch up with her.

“Baby girl, not that I’m not happy to see you, but where are your mothers?”

“Hey,” you chuckle from the doorframe. “Sorry to crash your meeting, but Ellie wanted to run in and say hi.”

“Well she knows Auntie Barb is always here to say hello to and give a snuggle,” Barbara chuckles as she releases your daughter.

“Alright, El,” Melissa looks at your daughter. “You got to say hi to Auntie Barb, now I gotta talk with her.”

“Can’t I stay?”

“I think you’ll have more fun with Momma coloring in her room,” your girlfriend says.

Ellie contemplates this for a moment before nodding. She runs to the redhead and hugs her tightly before taking your hand and pulling you off down the hall.

Your girlfriend watches the two of you make your way down the hall before she closes the door to the kindergarten room. 

“Well?” Barbara looks to her work wife curiously. “What on Earth could you have done that would require us to talk without Y/N and Ellie here?”

“I took them to meet my mom and Nonna,” Melissa states. “And Nonna told them that they were family and that Ellie was an honorary Schemmenti.”

“That’s great news,” the kindergarten teacher states.

“And now, I’m thinking about asking them to become official Schemmentis.”

Barbara gives your girlfriend a look in shock. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I thought that you didn’t want to get married again though, and Y/N seems perfectly content with that,” the woman says softly.

“I said that it would take a freaking miracle,” Melissa says. “And they… they are that miracle.”

“That’s great though, Melissa,” Barbara tells the redhead. “Why did we need to talk about this?”

“Because… I need you to tell me that I’m not insane for thinking this and throwing caution to the wind again for her,” the second grade teacher says quietly. “I- I never thought that I would consider getting married again.”

“Well, why are you?” Barb asks.

Your girlfriend folds her arms over her chest as she perches herself on one of the tables. “Because I love those two more than I’ve ever loved anyone… Nonna and my mother adore them, called them family and honorary Schemmentis. And then, that night I had a couple dreams about them.”

“What were they?” the kindergarten teacher inquires.

Melissa sighs softly. “I had a couple… one where Y/N was my wife and Ellie was my daughter, another where Jared came back and I couldn’t protect Y/N, and then… the last one was… something happened to Y/N, and because I wasn’t legally Ellie’s mother, she went back to Jared kicking and screaming.”

“Oh,” Barbara sighs quietly.

“That one had me so shaken that I checked that Y/N was still breathing and that Ellie was asleep in bed.”

“That makes sense, Melissa,” the kindergarten teacher says.

“Well? What do you have to say about this?”Your girlfriend asks.

“I think the answer is right in front of you, and you would be a fool to not follow your heart,” Barb states. “Y/N has been nothing but wonderful for you, Ellie already calls you her mother… you have already laid down the foundation for a beautiful marriage.”

“What if it’s too soon though?”

“When you know, you know,” Barbara says smugly. “Think about it.”

“Thanks,” Melissa smiles. She heads out after that, knowing that the kiddos will be coming in any second.

When lunch time comes around, Melissa makes her way into the staff room and has your meal out and ready for you when you get there. You sigh as you settle yourself in your chair and lean your shoulder on her head.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

She presses a kiss to your temple with a soft chuckle. “Happy Monday?” she offers.

“It’s Monday, that’s for sure… Roman started off the day spilling my coffee all over the floor and shattering my mug, so I’m exhausted.”

“Well, I can fix that,” your girlfriend laughs quietly as she stands from her place and heads for the coffee machine. She pulls another mug from the cabinet, and while the coffee is brewing, her eyes linger on you.

You’re half asleep as you bring your lunch to your mouth, but she can’t help but think that you are the most beautiful woman in the world. She gets so distracted just looking at you that she doesn’t notice the coffee is ready.

“Babe, stop staring at me,” you tell her.

She shakes herself out of her trance. “Sorry. You’re just… wow.”

“I don’t have any makeup on, and I’m in your old Eagles sweatshirt,” you roll your eyes. “I probably have bags under my eyes actually.”

She hums as she brings you the new cup of coffee, leaning down and kissing your cheek. “You’re stunning, and I won’t hear anything else.”

That day after school, the two of you take Ellie to the park like you do on any day that allows for the little bundle of energy to run around and tire herself out. You find Melissa watching Ellie with a sparkle in her eye, not that that isn’t uncommon, but there’s something different about the way she’s watching her today.

“What’s got you lookin’ at her like that today?” you ask as you squeeze her hand.

Melissa smiles fondly. “Just… thinking about how much that little girl has grown and changed, and how she’s changed my life for the better.”

“We’ve been through a lot,” you smile softly.

Ellie is put to bed, and for once, you’re not entirely exhausted. So, you prepare for bed before heading out into the living room with two glasses of wine. Melissa is in her spot, glasses on the tip of her nose and looking at her phone with a soft smile.

“What are you looking at?” you ask as you sit next to her.

“The album I have of you and El,” she tells you as she wraps her arm around you and pulls you practically in her laugh.

There’s a picture of Ellie’s seventh birthday up. Ellie’s eyes are wide and filled with so much love for your girlfriend as she grins at the camera, holding up the toy that your little girl had so desperately wanted but you couldn’t afford.

“I can’t believe you spoiled her as much as you did that day,” you roll your eyes.

She shrugs. “Have you ever seen the kid so happy though? It was worth it.”

You swipe over, and there are about a million pictures and videos of your daughter at the park running around with the sweetest smile on her face.

“This one’s my favorite,” Melissa sighs with content as she lands on a selfie of the three of you. Ellie was in her favorite lavender shirt, Melissa was wearing that salmon colored shirt you adore, and you were in your overalls looking exhausted but filled with so much joy.

“I look like a mess,” you roll your eyes.

“Do you remember that day?”

“Yeah,” you chuckle. “That was while we were moving in and I was at the end of my rope.”

“Momma! Please!” Ellie had pleaded with you, but you were in no mood to go out into the world after an afternoon of lugging all of your things across the hall or down to the storage unit a block over. “Please! I just want to go to the park!”

“Elizabeth,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose with your thumb and forefinger. “I already said no.”

“But please! I just want to play with you!”

“Elizabeth, you are on thin ice,” you warned, but she didn’t relent, and that finally got you to blow over. “Elizabeth Ruth! To your room, now!”

Your little girl, never used to being reprimanded, immediately burst into tears. And something inside of you broke too. Melissa came out from where she was rearranging her closet to make room for your things at the sound.

“What- what’s happening?” she asked as she lifted Ellie onto her hip and guided you to the couch.

“Momma- Momma yelled at me!” Ellie wailed into your girlfriend’s shoulder.

“I- I didn’t mean to!” you had cried right back into her other shoulder. “I- This has all been so hard, and I’m exhausted, and I just don’t have the energy to take her down to the park today!”

Melissa blew out a breath. This was all over going to the park?

“Momma telled me to go to my room, but I don’t even have a room yet!” your daughter whimpered.

“I’m sorry, El,” you apologized. “I’m sorry I lost my temper on you… that was not okay.”

“It’s okay, Momma,” your little girl forgave you quickly as she sniffled the last of her tears away.

“Why don’t we do this,” Melissa started. “I’ll take El down to the park and play with her while you get a nap in?”

“N-no,” Ellie shook her head into the redhead’s neck. “Momma said no.”

“Go,” you whispered. “Take her, have fun, and I’ll be in a better mood when you come back.”

“R-really?” your little girl peered at you from her place in Melissa’s lap. You nod, but your daughter doesn’t make any moves towards the door.

Eventually, with lots of promises that it really was okay, Ellie went with your girlfriend out the door and towards the park. 

You relaxed into the cushions of the couch, but you felt absolutely terrible for snapping at your child. So, about ten minutes after they leave, you too headed down to the park.

You stopped at the coffee shop down the street from your house, and you grabbed your girlfriend’s favorite, your drink, and a lemonade for your little girl. You found them almost as soon as you entered the gated area of the playground, and Ellie was giggling with glee as Melissa pushed her on the swing. Your daughter’s eyes lit up at the sight of you.

“Momma!” Ellie squeaked as she pointed at you.

Melissa turned in your direction, slightly confused. “Babe?”

“I thought I should come down,” you told them. “I’ve been so high strung lately, and I figured maybe I should just come down and spend a nice afternoon with my girls.”

“Really?” Ellie squealed as she continued to swing.

You nod and take a seat on the playground equipment next to her. You started to pump your legs, and soon you were in sync with your daughter. Melissa just chuckled as she continues to push Ellie.

“Momma! you never swing with me!”

“That’s because I’m always the one pushing you while Mel takes videos,” you laughed. And when you looked over, Melissa was indeed filming you both swinging.

It was a bit before you got off the swing, and the three of you ended up finding a nice little patch of grass that you could settle on. Ellie sipped on her lemonade while you drank your coffee. Melissa pecked your cheek before pulling out her phone and holding it out in front of her. She snapped a picture of the three of you, cheeks kissed with the sun and high on life.

“That was a good day,” she smiles softly. “It was so nice seeing you just be free for a little bit.”

“We should do that again soon,” you tell her quietly as you sip on the wine in your glass.

The two of you go through her pictures, reminiscing on all of the good times. 

“Do you remember this one?” she asks you as she shows you a picture of you and Ellie dozing on the couch.

“Oh god,” you groan. “I was exhausted that day.”

You don’t know what hit you, but the kids wore you down that day. And after school, you collapsed onto the couch and pretty much refused to move. Melissa started on dinner for that night while Ellie curled up in your lap and started to drift off too.

You only woke up when your girlfriend snapped a picture of you, trying to be sneaky.

“Dammit,” she mumbled as the shutter sound rang out from her phone.

“Did you just take a picture of us?” you asked as you blinked awake. 

She shrugs. “You guys are just so cute. I can’t help it.”

Eventually, the two of you head into your bedroom, and you fall asleep against your girlfriend rather quickly. But sleep doesn’t come easily for Melissa. She’s reminiscing on the time that she’s spent with you. All of the good, the bad, and the ugly. She remembers the first time she told you that she loved you.

The two of you had a night to yourselves, your parents offering to watch Ellie so you could spend some quality time together.

“This was really nice,” you smiled at her as she drives through the city to pick up Ellie.

She nodded and brought your hand to her lips. “It’s always a nice time with you… I love spending time with you.”

“I do too,” you whispered as you leaned over the middle console to kiss her cheek.

She pulled up to a stop light and turned her head to kiss you gently. 

“Honey, why are you stopping? You never stop,” you ask.

“Because I want to look at you when I tell you, I would even say… that I love you.”

Your eyes went wide. “What?”

“I love you,” she said again, just as softly and just as genuine as the first time.

You couldn’t help but kiss her again. “I love you too,” you mumbled against her lips. 

She remembers the first time the two of you had made love. You were beyond nervous, claiming that you were in no shape to be seen naked after having Ellie- that it’s been too long since you’ve been with someone knew- your only body was Jared. She didn’t care- she worshipped you that night.

She remembers the night that she met you. She can still see her first glance at the two of you in her mind. You looked beyond stressed, Ellie was in meltdown mode, and yet she somehow still knew that the two of you would become two of the most significant people in her life.

She remembers all of the good, and all of the bad. How you get giddy at the sight of her. How her heart broke for you when you would cry over your failed marriage. The way that you celebrated the case against Jared. That time that you had your doubts in the relationship and tried to run away, only to come falling into her arms that night telling her that you were terrified of giving someone your heart again, only for it to be shattered- she promised you that she would never, ever do that to you. 

She reminisces about it all, and by the time that sleep takes her she’s decided that she is indeed going to ask you to marry her… so long as Ellie is okay with it. You, and your little girl, are worth everything to her.

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson

[avrizl]

sometimes i wonder when you sleep,

are you ever dreaming of me?

- mike schmidt x fem!reader

- smut, dom!mike sub!reader

- you’re abby’s babysitter and you have feelings for mike, but he doesn’t know it

- authors note ; this is something short to hold you guys off as i’m writing something big that will most likely have multiple parts ( wink wink )

- word count ; 3.3k

- mentions ; there is a slight age gap ( 20 & 23 )

it was a late friday night as the wind was blowing and the stars were shining in the sky. you hear a jingle at the door and you know it’s mike coming home from the pizzeria again. you could tell he hated working the night shifts, and hated that he had to make you stay all night so you could watch abby.

he opens the door and hangs his coat on the door and kicks his steel toe work boots off exhaustedly. he throws his keys and wallet on the kitchen table and immediately slouches into the arm chair directly across from you laying on the couch. he asks, “did you sleep at all?” you look back at him, “kind of.. i’m not the greatest with falling asleep either way.” he throws his head back slightly in annoyance with himself because he feels like a burden keeping you here.

you direct your focus towards the kitchen, “i made dinner, there’s leftovers in a blue tupperware in the fridge if you want any. abby’s asleep and she ate dinner tonight.” mikes eyes soften at your gesture, “thank you, that means a lot and i’m glad she ate dinner.. what did you do to get her to eat?” he laughs. you respond, “i made spaghetti, you told me it’s one of her favorites..” you smile as you say this wrapped in a blanket now sitting up.

you stand up saying, “i guess i should start going-“ mike stands up with you in unison, “you don’t have to go.. you could stay if you like, abby likes when you’re here y’know?” you smile at his words, “that’s very sweet of you, but i wouldn’t want to be a bother and i have some things to tend to..” mike responds with a slight frown and dissapointment in his voice, “that’s alright i understand..” you say to him, “you need me to come over same time tomorrow?” mike answers, “same time tomorrow.” with a heartwarming smile. you never realized how cute of a smile he had until now. you gather your things and toss on your coat and beat up sneakers as you walk out the door.

mike heats up the dinner you made and happily enjoys it. he always loves when you make him dinner or lunch. he watches you pull out of the driveway and drive home. he starts to clean up after his meal and he then goes to check on abby, and she’s sound asleep. he thinks you’re an angel sent from heaven because she never eats dinner or goes to sleep under his authority. he thanks you every day for helping with her.

it’s the next morning and you wake up around 8:00 am, your alarm is blaring in your ear as you groggily rub your eyes and slap your clock a few times before it stops. you get ready to get some things done. you lace up your running shoes and zip up your windbreaker and tie your hair into a tight ponytail. as you’re on your run, you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket and you check to see what it was, it’s mike.

you read the message and it says, “abby’s going to be sleeping over a friends tonight, you don’t need to come anymore.” you frown at the text, wishing you could still go so you could see mike. you respond with, “aw okay, i was looking forward to see you guys :(“ you then slide your phone back into your pocket and finish up your run. when you walk into your house, you check your phone once again to see a text from mike, “would you like to go do something.. like go out to dinner?” you jump around your living room and screech as you toss your phone onto the couch. you collect yourself and respond, “i would love to :)”

you start to get ready for dinner, even though you’re claiming it as a date. you take an everything shower and scrub your body with your signature scent until that’s the only thing you smell. as you step out of the shower you start your skincare and haircare. your face is covered in suds while your hair soaks up the mask you put in it. you dry off and wear your cutest set of underwear. it’s a black lacy bra with matching underwear that has colorful flowers on it. you rummage through your closet to find out what to wear and your eyes land on this scandalous black dress. it’s a halter that’s mid thigh length, covered in glitter, and very form fitting.

you text mike, “are you picking me up? if so what time?” he responds almost immediately, “yeah, i’ll be there in a half hour alright?” “sounds good to me :)” you start your makeup and you turn on your record player to get you hyped up for dinner. it’s the 1989 taylor’s version vinyl, it’s your favorite. the song suburban legends comes on and you are singing your heart out as you dust your face with blush and highlighter and before you know it, mikes in your driveway honking to say he’s here. you slip on your black heels and fix your hair quick and grab your clutch and walk out the door. you step into his car and he just stares at you, you respond? “what?” while chuckling. he just stares at you for a little bit longer, “i uh- you just look beautiful..” your cheeks are adorned with blush as you smile and look away. “you clean up nice too mike.” he replies, “thanks..” with a chuckle.

you guys drive to the spot you’re having dinner at and you think it’s amazing. it’s this high end restaurant on the west side of town and it’s known for its amazing food & drinks. the two of you take your seats and start to look at the menu. your server directs you to the alcoholic beverages, even though you’re not of age. you think to yourself, what they don’t know won’t hurt them but just in case you order a diet coke and mike orders wine. he laughs and looks over to you, “you thought about getting something right?” you smile, “yeah.. kidding! i’m only kidding” he laughs back at you, “you know i dont care right? i mean well.. it’s not the smartest idea but who cares.. teenagers always do dumb stuff, anyways what are you getting to eat?” you skim the menu, “i don’t know.. i’ve never been here and there’s so much to choose from!” your eyes are caught at the sight of seafood pasta. you ask mike, “what are you gonna get?” he thinks, “i don’t know either.. i’m indecisive.. maybe i’ll get the steak, you think that sounds good?” you reply awkwardly, “well um- i don’t eat beef.. so i would disagree..” he awkwardly replies, “oh sorry, i didn’t know” you say, “there’s no need to be sorry..” you both chuckle.

fast forward after dinner..

you’re in his car with the light on the radio turned down so you can hear each other, “tonight was amazing.. thank you for taking me out.” you say pushing your hair behind your ear smiling. “it’s no problem, i had a great time tonight too.” your mind is racing as you think of something to ask him and he can tell. “what’s got you so worked up?” your clammy hands fidget with your rings “i uhm- uh..-“ he questions, “hey are you alright?” as he places a reassuring hand on your knee moving his thumb back and forth. you look up from your hands and look into his beautiful hazel eyes, and he smiles at you with them. you smile back and mike continues, “you wanna head inside?” you nod in response. “alright cmon.”

he takes the keys out of the ignition and comes around to your door to open it and lead you out by holding your hand. you take your keys and press it into the lock and turn. as soon as you get into your house you kick off your heals to put your aching feet at ease and you throw your clutch and keys onto your table. mike responds with unlacing his dress shoes and placing them near the door and hanging up his coat. “i forgot how nice of a home you have, it’s very cozy and welcoming.” you sigh as you sit down on the couch, “thank you mike..” he sits down next to you on the couch leaning back and slightly man- spreading placing his hands on each of his knees. you stand up and your dress being unbelievably short, mike stares. you walk over to the kitchen to grab a glass of water and you ask, “you need anything? water? a snack?” you guys have been out and about all around town after dinner and you are both exhausted. “a glass of water would be nice, thank you.” you bring his glass of water and slightly bend down to place it on the coffee table, and this dress isn’t anything short of revealing. mike glances quickly at your cleavage but looks away even quicker. you notice this and you cock an eyebrow at him and he immediately becomes red. you sit back down next to him and make small talk as you sip your water. “how has abby been recently, like with therapy?” “she’s been doing good, she likes her therapist so that’s good..” “i’m glad mike.. i’m happy she’s doing good.” you go to get up once more and he follows you and grabs your wrist, “wait where are you going?” the look in his eyes captivates you, “i’m just going to get changed, i’ll be quick i promise.” you give him a reassuring smile.

you come back to the living room in short pj shorts and a big t-shirt that hangs off of your shoulder. he stares at you in awe. “has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?” he says with a light shake in his voice. “wh-what? what did you say?” he answers, “you heard what i said. has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are? you’re so perfect y/n.. the way your hair just always perfectly falls to frame your face.. your beautiful eyes.. your perfect body..” this makes you blush like crazy, and he sees your face painted maroon. he turns to you and smiles, “i know how you feel about me, and i feel the same way. ever since you started babysitting abby.” you stutter at his words, “mike.. you really feel the same way i do?” his eyes dart around the room looking for words to say, "yes, why would i say it if i didn't?" your cheeks are immediately a rosey shade after he said this. mike starts to lean in closer, and he does the thing you've been dreaming of, he kisses you. you melt into his lips and his hands move to the small of your back and he pulls your closer. you don't believe this is actually happening, wondering if its all some sick dream your mind put on to torture you. you both pull away from the kiss staring at each other with stars in your eyes.

mike cups your face in his big calloused hands, "you're a really good kisser.." he chuckles out. you giggle and look away in response. he pulls your face to look at him, "you're a really special girl y'know that right?" he kisses you once more and your stomach is flipping and twisting in every possible way. his lips are pure bliss. he then suddenly grabs you by the waist and throws you over his shoulder. you're surprised at his quick movements and strength, and its addictive. you protest by flailing around and hitting his back, but not hard enough to cause pain. you guys reach your bedroom and he flops you down onto your bed. he is now hovering over you with a smirk on his face with some kind of bad intent. his hands dart to your sides and he starts tickling you and you squirm and start yelling and laughing, "mike! stop i-it! i literally think i'm gonna die!" your giggles and pleads fill the room. he finally stops about after 5 minutes and your chest is heaving up and down desperate for a deep breath of air.

he creeps close to your ear, whispering, "the outfit you wore out to dinner made you look so good, made me want to find out what was underneath." mike plants a kiss on your neck and you shudder at this as you feel his hot breath on your neck. "mi-ke.." you plead as you feel him slowly slip off your large t-shirt. this reveals a black lacy bra underneath, "all for me hm? you wore this because you knew you were going to get ruined by me?" you whimper at his seductive words. his hands are all over your body, and his mouth is finding any place he can leave a mark on. you're squirming around at his delicate yet desperate touch. he whines, "fuck.. your body is so beyond perfect, it's even better than i imagined.." he's basically drooling at this point. his kisses trail down to your lower stomach and he looks up at you with begging eyes, this makes you want him even more. his hands are on your hips and your hands are in his hair. he kisses along your inner thighs but stops, and you're baffled. "wa-wait please don't stop." mike is now level with your cunt and he says, "i want you to beg for it. if you want me so bad you can beg for it." you moan at his words, "pl-please mike.. i'll be good i promise. need you so bad.." you babble out. "if you're such a good girl, on your knees." you comply almost immediately. you start to undo his belt buckle and he grabs you chin so your vision is directed towards him. "i didn't tell you what to do, did i? that's what i thought." you want him so badly you're aching for him, and his touch.

you hair is bunched up into a makeshift ponytail as you're bobbing up and down on him and slightly gagging, but only when you take all of him into your mouth. he's groaning and tipping his head backwards as he whispers out curses and praises, "oh my- fuhhckkk.. you feel so good, taking me so well." it's not long before he's telling you he's close. as he says this, you take him fully one last time and this sends him over the edge, causing him to release in your mouth. he strokes you face lovingly looking down at you shuddering, "you're such a good girl, my good girl.." as he wipes spit away from the corner of your mouth. as you take time to collect yourself after what just happened, he's gently stroking your hair. he's so unbelievably sweet and caring. he's always been like this, ever since you two first met. as you're calmed down he asks, "you alright?" with a darling smile, "yes i'm alright, thank you for being so considerate." he plants a kiss on your forehead and wraps his arms around you tightly, squeezing you in the tightest hug you've ever had. you giggle as you roll around on your bed.

now he's hovering over you and whispers, "now it's my turn to make you feel good." his hand moves past the waistband of your dangerously short shorts and he rubs slow circles around your bud. you moan at his touch, "mike.. please don't stop" he abides to your words and his hands feel like heaven on your heated cunt. he then fully removes your shorts and sees you have matching panties to your bra, "oh so you really wanted me to sleep with me? you want me inside of you that badly?" you whimper out, "yes mike.. i want you so bad i'm so desperate for you.." your words drive him insane and he takes off your panties and throws them with the rest of your clothes on your carpeted floor. your slick cunt the is all he sees and he's lost his mind. "you're already this wet for me? you're such a slut, but you're all mine." you stutter out, "i'm all yours, nobody elses." your words make him feel like he's in total control of you, which he is. he slowly starts to slowly slide himself into you and your breath hitches at the sensation of him. he asks, "you okay? is this comfortable?" you nod because you know you wouldn't be able to form words with him inside of you. he slowly moves in and out of your tight walls as they contract against him, causing him to groan in pleasure. his movements speed up and your voices grow even louder. "mike-.. oh my god please don't stop, m' so close.." he never thought about stopping once. his fingers dig into your sides inevitable to leave dark purple marks the following morning. his movements get even sloppier and faster, "m' close too baby.. just keep taking me like the good girl you are.." your walls tighten around him one last time before all you feel is complete ecstasy. your head goes back into the pillows as your gripping onto anything you possibly can as you moan louder than you ever have. he keeps going overstimulating you and a few pumps later, he finishes inside you panting into the crook of your neck.

he runs to the bathroom quick to get you a warm washcloth to clean up and as he comes back with the washcloth, he picks out clean clothes from your dresser. you clean yourself and then change into the clothes he offers. he cleaned himself up in the bathroom, but he still has nothing on. you question, "do you need something to wear? i have that change of clothes you left here in case of anything remember?" he nods and you get up and rummage through your drawers to find them, and you finally do handing him the neatly folded stack of clothes. he changes into them and flops down face first onto your pillowy soft bed. you laugh and sit down next to him stroking his hair, "you did so good babes, i'm so proud of you.." your hand moves down to his back to rub it and lightly scratch it with your nails. "you also did amazing baby, you make me feel so good.." he sits up and moves over to you to give you a kiss. you're lost in the moment not being able to think of anything else but his lips attached to yours. you pull away from the kiss. "i love you mike." "i love you too y/n, so much." you get up and stretch, "do you need anything to eat or drink?" he shakes his head no but you head to the kitchen anyways.

you walk back into your room and you see mike just looking around, "i never really took in your room before, it's really cute and it matches your personality.. and who's this blonde girl on all these posters?" you reply shocked, "taylor swift obviously! she's the best!" mike responds, "oh yeah her, her music's alright i guess.." "you GUESS?!" you both start laughing as you set down 2 glasses water on your nightstand with a bag of chips and sweets. "you wanna head to bed?" mike asks. you answer, "sure, i am pretty tired." you crawl under your mound of blankets and mike follows. you slowly wrap your arms around his torso and bury your head into his chest and he wraps around you in return. you both slowly drift off to sleep.

tags - @silversword7000

authors note - thank you all for the support i've been receiving over the week! i'm greatful for all the likes and reblogs it makes me so happy you guys enjoy my work <33 much love to you all.

[starrynights-sunnyskies]

swipe, like, love, misa x reader

the swiping left and right of today's romance isn't everyone's cup of tea, and certainly not misa's. but modern times call for modern solutions.

or; misa sees green (and double)

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As Misa's eyes travelled across the room, she perked up when they landed on a surprising but nonetheless welcome face— you seemed a little different with your hair up in a sleek bun and a dark red shade coating your lips, but Misa loved it all the same. Without another thought, she excused herself and slowly waded through the people standing by to approach you, placing a hand on your shoulder to catch your attention in the loud and crowded room.

“Hey,” Misa's voice rose and she smiled softly, trying to hide her enthusiasm that made her feel a little too much like a teenager in love. She added a little swagger to her stance, wanting to downplay the amount of excitement she felt. She faltered slightly when you turned around, took her in, furrowed your brows and smiled unsurely, as if only out of courtesy, to not hurt the woman's feelings.

“Uh, hi.”

She took you in and nervously thumbed the rim of her glass, her throat suddenly going dry and words seeming to fail her. It had been an expected reaction of hers. Your sheer beauty and the reminder of your night together did that to her, but she mostly felt like that because something was… off. You seemed standoffish, not keen on the idea of talking to her. Your eyes displayed no warmth and your eyes didn't light up with your smile, like the one you'd given her upon first meeting. Even your voice wasn't warm like she'd remembered. It was rather high and icy, laced with the slightest hint of annoyance and confusion.

Your eyes quickly flitted around, as if to try and diffuse the awkwardness by ignoring Misa would work.

“How have you been?” Misa tried. It seemed the wrong thing to ask, clearly, as your head snapped back to her, your face displaying your unease. God, why had she decided to say something so casual yet so stupid to the woman she only knew because they’d slept together? As if Misa knew of your day-to-day life enough to be given an update on it. Of course, you would rather run than stay. It was awkward enough to think about. She couldn’t blame you. Maybe she shouldn't have approached, but the second she'd seen you, her feet had taken the lead.

She watched you rear your head back from looking for a quick escape, taking Misa in again to dig through your memory, “Do I know you?”

You didn’t remember her.

Either that, or you didn’t want to remember her, but rather forget about her than reminisce about your night together. Misa didn't know what was worse.

You were still a stranger to her, so she couldn't blame you for not wanting to entertain the thought of having her in your life any further than your one night. No strings attached... just a fun night, was what you had agreed on, what Misa had been looking for when downloading that damned app anyway. You hadn't texted her after leaving her place the morning after, and she hadn't dared to either, no matter how much she'd wanted to, afraid she would cross boundaries or come across as eager or loved up. Aside from having been able to release her frustrations and pent-up desire during a fun and steamy night, you'd given her something else than one of the greatest orgasms of her life— you'd given her... well, a crush. Now, she realised that hadn't been the case for you too. It made her wince at her own foolishness and optimism.

Horrified, Misa tried to downplay her grimace, “I’m sorry- I shouldn’t have…” She glanced over her shoulder, back where she'd come from, "I-I should go."

She watched you take a sip of your drink, nodding slightly and side-eying her as you turned back to your group, the conversation clearly now about her as six sets of eyes watched Misa leave.

"Misa..." An arm was slung around her shoulder, pulling her against her friend's chest, "You clearly need to work on your game. Because that was... a pathetic attempt, to say the least." Sofie looked at her with sympathy as she pulled her friend to look around the terrace, "Plenty more fish in the sea. So don't go for the straight girls."

"She's not straight," Misa replied, a little defensively, but not unkindly. For she knew you weren't, not entirely. You simply couldn't have been straight with the kind of enthusiasm and greed you'd answered her advances with.

Sofie merely snorted.

Wanting to reassure herself that she hadn't been a fool to crush on a straight girl, Misa added, "She's not. She can't be." Her brows were set in a determined fury to back her claim, displaying the confidence in the knowledge she held.

Sofie's brows furrowed as she watched, slowly putting the pieces together as they aligned in her mind— from Misa telling her she had been feeling rather lonely lately, to the advice Sofie had given her to just put herself out there and find women with likeminded motivations and needs...to talking about the woman she'd met and-

"Oh my-" Sofie slapped a hand in front of her mouth, shielding the dramatic gasp that left.

"What?"

"Oh my god! You two... right?! That's her." Sofie set her drink down, too excited in her movements to not let the liquid slosh over the rim, "She's the woman! The one you said gave you the biggest and best and-" Misa slapped her hand across Sofie's mouth, stopping the rest from coming out. People were standing around them, chatting and laughing, the mix of the waves and the soft music coming from the speakers filling the deck of the beach restaurant, but Sofie's voice had still been too loud. Sofie batted Misa's hand away and leaned in, conspiratorially,

"It all makes sense now; how you walked up to her with that look in your eyes."

Misa scrunched her face in disgust, hating how she'd apparently been too obvious in her pursuit, "So, she can't be straight."

"Because she was way too enthusiastic for that?" Sofie wiggled her eyebrows, implying something, hard, but Misa was not amused, and her friend could tell. Immediately, Sofie schooled her features and sat the two of them down.

"Tell me what happened again?"

"Just now or before?"

"All of it."

And so Misa did, recounting how you had matched on a dating app, how you'd instantly clicked and how things had suddenly fallen perfectly into place for her to ask you to meet up. She'd felt awkward while typing out her question though, like some frat boy who was too hormonal to hold a conversation with a girl and not think about her boobs or what she'd look like underneath all those clothes. She'd been afraid the question had turned you off, that it had made things awkward and would have you ghost her. However, Misa was pleasantly surprised when you agreed. She'd never expected you to reply so nonchalantly to it, as if it was the most normal question she could've asked you, standing in the same line as what's your drink of choice or do you have any siblings. Or, perhaps you'd already expected her to, which filled her with the slightest bit of shame, for she hoped her true need hadn't shone through already with the first message she'd sent. Though, yes, she'd downloaded the app for a quick fuck, she had honestly liked talking to you. You were different from the other women she'd matched with. You'd been able to match her energy, to keep her on her toes and to have her think of you the second her phone would ping. You'd made her laugh at her screen while reading the messages you'd left for her while she was at work, and you'd managed to enter her mind at random moments during the day.

It was safe to say that after her risky question, she was waiting for the inevitable shift in your back-and-forth messages, but it didn't happen. And Misa counted that as a good thing. You'd agreed on a day and time and she'd texted you her address, something that had immediately filled her with dread right after. What if you were catfishing her as a crazy fan or were a stalker and now knew of her address? But you'd shown up, fifteen minutes earlier than expected, which had Misa scrambling some mess into cupboards that she'd forgotten to clean. Maybe it had been for the better that you'd shown up earlier than agreed upon, because Misa had been worrying enough as it was already. Would she open the door, let you in, and then... well, then what? Would you want a drink first or would you want to go straight to the bedroom? Wouldn't that be weird? Did you want to get to know her a little first? Talk some more? Want her to ask you about your day to ease your nerves? Or was that the last thing you wanted to think about and would that ruin whatever vibes you were trying to set?

It seemed as though you'd sensed her uncertainty, and realised she was trudging in uncharted waters, when you had smiled at her, widely and kindly, and gave her two kisses— one on each cheek. You oozed calmness, at least you were trying your best to, but had been panicking all day long. It had gotten the best of you when you'd stepped into the shower a little over an hour ago, when the realisation had set in off why you were currently in there to begin with. When really, the nervous flitters had bounced beneath your chest and against your stomach whenever you'd thought about the day nearing all of last week.

"Didn't know what your drink of choice was, but-" Misa took a peek inside your totebag, seeing two piccolo bottles of wine, some beer bottles, a coca cola and a smoothie of sorts. "-not that I didn't think your fridge would be empty but-" You stopped, swallowed your words, then grinned at her again, realising you had broken the illusion that you weren't freaking out.

Adorable, Misa thought, as it seemed she hadn't been the only one feeling a little nervous, after all.

"You just wanted to get rid of this from your own cupboards, didn't you?" Misa looked back up at you, a cheeky grin tugging at the corners of her lips, falling back into the easy banter she'd had with you for the last month through text.

"Guilty." You joked along, but your laughter died down when you realised you were still standing on her doormat and that she was checking you out. Unashamedly. You'd put in a little effort, wanting to look as nicely as you could. Not only because of the woman you'd agreed to see, but also because you wanted to feel good, too. And if you were really going to do this, which you still couldn't believe, you needed all the extra support in the right direction to give you some confidence. You knew the scent of your shampoo and body lotion were still lingering around you after your recent shower. Even if you couldn't care less, simply because you loved their scents, you still hoped that she didn't hate them.

She reached her hand for you to shake, "Misa."

"Y/N. Thank you for being exactly who you were on your profile." You chuckled.

"Because else the deal would've been off?" Misa didn't know where the sudden surge of bravery had come from, perhaps it had been after sensing your disarming energy, that had thankfully not just been clinging to you through texts, or how she could feel you were still testing out the waters, not too sure about taking the upperhand just yet.

"No, but it will be if you keep me standing on your doorstep." You shot back, your playful quips finally making their entree in real life. There was a glimmer of amusement in your eyes, and Misa immediately opened the door for you to walk in.

She guided you to sit on one of the bar stools behind her kitchen counter, finding the setting of the couch a little too awkward. Too much thought would go behind on whether to sit next to you or give you some space. But what was too little space and what would be too much? So, the kitchen it was.

She watched as you set down your handbag, then pulled the drinks out of the totebag in your other hand.

"Do you want an extra bladder to go with all those drinks, or would a glass suffice?"

You only rolled your eyes, ignoring her question as you placed the drinks you'd brought in a line, "Pick your poison."

Misa smiled, eyed the beer bottle and caught it as you slid it across the counter towards her.

"I knew you wouldn't go for the smoothie. More for me, then."

She shook her head and watched as you sipped from it, "I drink enough healthy smoothies everyday. Sometimes I just want a little reprieve from that healthy lifestyle."

"If you want to eat burgers and drink milkshakes all day, who's stopping you? You look good, you can have a cheat day now and then. "

"I'm a professional athlete."

This seemed to pique your interest, and Misa added, "Football. I'm a goalie."

"Are you serious?"

"As can be."

Your eyes narrowed and you leaned in, teasing her, "Are you just saying that to impress me?"

"No... but hey, if it's working?"

"It is." You answered, resolutely, nodding to yourself, "My sister is a physiotherapist for athletes, and she treats a lot of footballers. She says it's rewarding to help someone get back in shape, but I'm pretty sure she only chose it so that she could ogle their eight packs and maybe have one of them wife her up," You rambled, letting your nerves chat for you, "It's a demanding lifestyle, isn't it? Without your body in proper shape, you're done for."

"Yeah, it is," She nodded along, "I don't really mind it that much. And the added strength and stamina are welcome, too." She took a swig of her beer, eyeing you while she did, not recognising who she was becoming around you— bold and unapologetic in voicing her desire. Wow, was this what she was like after months without any action?

She knew you'd seen her admire your body mere moments before, but you had barely seemed to react to it, and going by the way the conversation was turning to one of smalltalk, she needed to make it known she was still into your originally agreed upon plans.

"Right." You all but gulped.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been so blunt."

You waved her off, hand falling on hers across the counter, "No, I'm being weird," You sighed, "I haven't really... ever done this... before, you know? And it's clear you have and I don't know what to do and I don't want to do the wrong-"

"I haven't."

"You haven't?" You eyed her, uncertain, hoping to catch her in her lie, but she looked at you with sincerity in her eyes.

"No, never."

"But you seem so relaxed. Like you know what you're doing and how it's going to happen."

"I have as much of a clue as you do," She shrugged, "I guess it's because of you."

"Because of me... Right..." You mumbled out, absentmindedly, thoughts wandering and eyes flitting to the many photos stuck on her refrigerator. You let her answer sit with you a little. "Why me, though?"

Misa tilted her head, unsure of where you were going with this, "What do you mean?"

"Why me? Why am I the first?" Instantly, you shook your head, not wanting her to answer with anything along the lines of simply because you were willing, "Wait, don't answer that."

"No? You don't want the ego boost?" Misa quipped, her tone light and her eyes looking at you with newfound ease. She knew she needed to keep the conversation lighthearted after sensing your clear uncertainty. She felt a little bad how your insecurity made her feel a little more confident, making her feel less of a need to stress out now that neither of you two had any clue.

"You're obviously a gorgeous woman. And we both aren't looking for anything serious either. I guess I just... felt comfortable when we talked through the app. Comfortable enough to do this. I hoped that would be the same for when we met up. And it is," Misa waited a beat before asking, "Why did you say yes?"

The two of you stared at one another for a few seconds. You answered her question in your head, coming to the exact same conclusion, as Misa tried to find the answer in your eyes.

Misa furrowed her brows when she saw you purse your lips in contemplation, "Hey, we don't have to do this. If all this will be is a fun night with some drinks, then I'm cool with it, too. I don't want to do things if either one of us isn't fully comfortable. There's zero pressure from me, okay? You can go home whenever you want."

Of course, having some drinks with a stranger-turned-acquaintance wouldn't satiate the pent-up desire she'd felt for months now, and what she'd failed to relieve on her own, but she would never want someone to cross a boundary, not for their own sake, and certainly not for hers.

Your answer was immediate, and it surprised her a little.

"No." You shook your head, "I still want it."

Misa's eyes followed you as you stood up from the stool, walked around the counter and up to her. Her back hit the counter as you now stood in front of her, eyes set in an emotion she had yet to decipher. Was it lust? Concentration? Need?

With your thumb and index finger, you pulled the bottle of beer from her hand and put it on the counter behind her, not losing eye contact as you leaned into her with the movement. Misa inhaled sharply, her senses intoxicated when the scent of your body wash enwrapped her. She could feel the warmth radiate off your body and her skin tingled where you touched her underarm.

It was as if a switch had flicked on inside of you, as if the adorable chuckling woman with a bag full of drinks to break the ice had been replaced by a version of you that had only shadowed you up until it had been able to fully take over, leading with a desire and fervour that was new, but very welcome.

"I promise." Your voice was merely a whisper, wanting to whisk away any remnant of doubt still lingering in Misa.

Misa didn't know what to do— if she were to reach out and put her hands on your waist to pull you closer or wait for you to make the first move.

"I'm a grown woman, I know what I'm agreeing to, and I want this. With you." She saw the flame fade out in your eyes momentarily when you took a step back, "Only if you want the same."

Misa nodded, breathlessly, saw you still wanted an audible answer, and added, "Yes, I want this with you."

She noticed the soft pink starting to dust your cheeks at an alarming rate and cleared her throat, "What do you... How should we-?"

"I don't know," You breathed out, your eyes having followed Misa's every movement from her widening eyes to her tongue licking her lips, "Maybe we shouldn't... like... go all out yet? I mean, we'll have sex, of course, but... we should make sure we're comfortable and feel safe with each other for the first time? Get to know each other's bodies a little?" Your cheeks turned to an even heavier shade of pink, feeling the embarrassment eat you up. It had been a while since someone had touched you last, and it had left you starved for someone's attention. Hell, you were willing to go to bed with someone you weren't dating for the first time in your life, that was how much you missed the intimacy of the moment. All you wanted right now was someone to take care of you, to feel fingertips grazing your body, to let someone's warm breath fan against your sweaty skin and to fucking cum. And when your needs would be satiated, you'd return the favour with a hungry intention to show how thankful you were. You already couldn't wait to hear the sighs and whimpers and other filthy sounds fill the room as proof you hadn't yet lost your touch to make someone come undone. The mere thought of it all was already making you pulsate and grow hotter by the second.

Misa nodded at your suggestion, zoning out as her mind started to drift off to the images and sounds that entered her mind— ragged breathing and low groans and moans, hooded eyes, breasts bouncing, palm clashing against skin, hair stuck to sweaty foreheads, fingers digging in and out and tongue licking against warm wetness. She shook herself out of it when she felt a sudden sharp twitch of arousal between her thighs. However, your words echoed within her— ...for the first time, you'd said. She couldn't remain looking unperturbed at your casual mention of it perhaps not being a one-time thing after all. She swallowed, "Yeah... yeah, I'd really like that." She cleared her throat, "Is there something that you-"

"Just make me feel good and wanted and safe." You blurted out, "Stop or slow down when I ask you, and please also tell me when I do something you don't like... and don't hold back in telling or showing me what you want or need. I want it to feel good for both of us," You rushed out, wanting to get it over with.

"I want that too."

"And my safe word is raisin."

"Raisin?" Misa cocked her head to the side, smiling slightly when you playfully narrowed your eyes at her jab, "Mine's...um-"

"You don't have one?"

"Isn't stop clear enough as it is?"

Playfully, you rolled your eyes, "No. I've muttered that subconsciously when I definitely didn't want them to stop, and you can get confused when you hear don't stop." Misa's cheeks flushed, thinking of those two begging words coming out of your mouth.

"You need a word that you normally would never say during sex. Something that sticks out."

"Duck."

"That sounds too much like fuck."

"Um, what about red then?"

"The traffic light system?"

She nodded, "Red is stop immediately, orange is slown down, be careful or change what you're doing...and green is we're good to go."

"That's... way better." You nodded. Misa's hands went to rest atop your hips when you crossed the distance again. You gave her a crooked grin, "I'm green."

"Seeing green already?" She smiled and pulled you flush against her by your lower back, trapping a lock of hair behind your ear, "Green it is then."

You had then latched onto her, arms locking around her neck and lips finding hers in an intense kiss filled with a heady feeling of craving and urgency.

She relived it again as she told Sofie about her night with you, leaving out what had happened afterwards, even if the things that had happened still played in her mind every other day. Her heartbeat picked up in pace as she remembered how you'd sounded reaching your high while bouncing on her lap, then the hums and groans you'd made afterwards in between her legs. God, she could feel the ghost of your touch all over her skin. Your lips, your fingertips, your hair tickling her thighs as she'd held you there until she was spent.

She swallowed, "Then in the morning she went home and I never saw or heard from her again."

"She stayed the night?!" Sofie scoffed playfully.

Misa scowled ever so slightly, "What was I supposed to say? Oh, we just fucked each other's brains out for hours, but please, there's the door?! I have manners, Sof. I didn't want her to go out alone at night, feeling depleted and overwhelmed."

Sofie's face softened, "Forgot it was your first time having a one-night stand. People aren't usually that accommodating. But hey, it's good that you did that," Sofie squeezed her arm, trying to soften the blow she'd hit her with next, "But from all that you told me, it seems you actually met properly and talked for a month through texts, and she stayed the night, so there's no way she doesn't remember you. You usually don't even know your one-night stands. It's fuck and go. You talked to her before getting to that point. She's no stranger."

Misa puffed out a breath, hating being reminded by the obvious rejection.

"How was she in the morning? Weird? Off? Distant? Quiet?"

"Peaceful. I don't know what else to call it. She was calm. Soft." She recalled the morning, how you'd kindly refused her offer for breakfast after having taken a quick shower, saying you'd have brunch with friends, but had accepted a cup of tea before leaving her place. You hadn't told her you'd text her again. Granted, she hadn't said it either. Misa had assumed it had been a given, though, because you hadn't just had casual sex... even if it should've been. You'd connected the second she'd looked at you with a kind of care and softness she typically only held for her partners. It was insane, Misa was well aware. The curse of lesbian sex was that you could fall all in incredibly soon, and apparently, all it had taken for Misa was one month online and one night in the flesh.

As she sat there next to her friend, Misa realised she'd already started to fall for you throughout that month of texting. It left her feeling empty— shoulders slumped, head down and nibbling on her bottom lip.

"You really liked her, didn't you? I'm sorry, Misa." Sofie sighed, sensing Misa's turmoil and conflict, but mostly her hurt, "You didn't deserve the way she treated you."

"She just seems like an entirely different person. There's absolutely nothing familiar about her besides her face." Her eyes found you standing among the group of people again, laughing and chatting away, poking the chest of the guy beside you with a rueful smile, "I wish I knew why she acted the way she did. Like she didn't remember me at all."

Misa watched as you clung to the muscled upper arm of the tall man next to you, how you were glued to him as if he was your lifeline, how you flicked your lashes at him when he looked at you. She froze in horror and crumbled apart when you kissed him.

"There you go— there's your answer. She was probably curious and agreed to sleep with you. She didn't text you again because she wasn't into women after all." Sofie tried to relativise.

"But she was."

"How do you know? Did you talk about it afterwards?"

"No, we didn't really say anything. But it wasn't awkward. I just know."

"You just... know?"

"It was a vibe."

"I don't like stereotyping or judging or guessing and all that, but look at her-" Sofie nudged Misa to face your way again, "-It's like all she wants to do is feel him up, count the packs on his stomach and be his princess for the rest of her days. You can't fake that kind of admiration or lust. My gaydar isn't going off either, and it's the best one out there, I can usually clock them from miles away."

Misa knew it was uncalled for, that it wasn't her right or place to feel this way, but she was seeing green as the guy pulled you against his chest like she'd pulled you against hers, how his lips roughly pushed against yours and how you kissed back with the same kind of fervour you'd kissed her that night, over and over and over again.

"I just genuinely liked her." Her voice was small, and Sofie squeezed her arm.

"She's an idiot, clearly. I don't want to be harsh, but I'm saying this because I love you— it's best to just forget about her."

Misa curled her lips into a pout, clearly still hung up on the awkward and hurtful interaction of moments before. Sofie saw the downward spiral of thoughts appear in her friend's eyes and wasn't going to stand by and let that happen.

"Want to get out of here? I never like having to show our faces at these kind of events anyway. I just came because I knew they'd have good food. Come, we'll get Vicio." She stuffed another amuse bouche in her mouth before hooking her arm through Misa's, "This way, chica."

However, Misa kept standing, not budging an inch and not letting Sofie tug her away.

"No, I'm not letting her scare me away. We're staying."

Sofie's face fell, and she whined, "But... Vicio?!"

"We'll get that after I've talked to her."

"Misa, no. Let it go." Sofie rubbed her temples, wanting to stop her from falling into the trap of getting hurt even more and more.

"I can't."

Sofie's features softened and she gave her friend a tight-lipped smile, "You did the one thing you shouldn't do with a one-nighter, didn't you?"

Misa didn't meet Sofie's eyes, but Sofie was right— she hadn't been able to keep her end of the no-strings-attached deal. She'd done the one thing she shouldn't have, the one thing that was a downfall in queer one-night-stands— and that was to fall in love with the woman you had sex with, no matter how good the orgasm. Going to bed with another woman was an all-consuming tender experience, something you couldn't half-ass, something you couldn't only be present for in body, something that devoured every single cell in your body and held your heart, head, soul and being in a tensed hold. And it clearly wasn't something Misa had been able to do without letting herself start to care.

It was supposed to be sex and sex only. With her tight schedule, it was insane to think she'd bump into a potential girlfriend anyway, and she didn't want to put a woman through the chaos of her life, nor did she want her relationship to feel like a chore on top of her career. But she'd missed the connection made during sex, the tender exchange of souls, the being in the moment with someone on the same wavelength. With her legs twitching and her insides coiling fiery hot not because of what was done to her, but because of who was making her feel it all. She'd missed someone touching her just as much as she'd missed the feeling of someone coming undone because of her. And she'd desperately been wanting a release of the constant ache between her thighs, simple as that.

Sofie saw the determination on Misa's face. It was clear there was no talking her out of it. As stubborn as Misa was, Sofie had to let her try and get her closure if she thought she needed it in order to move on. That didn't mean she couldn't stop her friend from making a fool of herself, though.

"You're not going to approach her right now, are you?"

"I'll wait until I can pull her aside." Misa's tone was cold, like she'd already made up her mind about the woman she'd daydreamed about for a few weeks, and she just needed to state her piece now.

So, she stayed put and watched you throw back glass after glass, your resolve crumbling by the minute, making it very clear you weren't drinking a fruit smoothie this time. She almost started to feel bad for needing to whisk you away later in your current state, if you hadn't made her feel bad earlier that night.

Sure, she could understand that you didn't want to talk about your night with others around, or talk about it at all, and she could even be sensible to the fact you probably hadn't expected her to be there, but your reaction hadn't been born out of surprise and the uncertainty of what to do with the situation... you'd managed to seem genuinely puzzled and unaffected. A hint of unease had even crossed your features. It had hurt Misa, a lot.

And as the crowd thinned throughout the following hour, Misa finally found her moment when she noticed you were saying goodbye and walking off the deck, towards the carpark.

"Go tell 'er!" Sofie gave her a curt nod and watched Misa disappear from the terrace.

She didn't know how you did it, walking through the pebbles of the carpark with your insanely high heels and the imbalanced walk of your buzzed self. A thought of worry flickered through her mind as she thought of how you were going to get home, but she pushed it aside.

"Y/N!"

It infuriated Misa even more when you didn't react when you clearly must've heard her with how close she was to you, and how quiet it was— aside from the car turning into the carpark. Misa picked up her pace and caught up, standing in front of you to stop you from taking another step forward.

She eyed you as you reared back, shocked at the suddenness of it all, then composed yourself. Biting back the snarl was hard, and your words hit Misa harder than she'd wanted them to,

"What?!"

Misa whistled low, "You're definitely showing your true colours now, aren't you?"

"Who are you?!"

"Seriously?!" Misa was fuming, and your bristling energy didn't affect her. At all. "You really hurt me back there, did you know? And fuck me, but I was kind of hoping we could talk like two normal adults about it now but it's clear you lack the capacity to do so."

"I've never seen you in my entire life."

"Oh, really? Because I think you've seen all of me pretty thoroughly." Misa let out a breathy chuckle, the insinuation loud and clear for even the stupidest of people.

Realisation seemed to dawn on you. Your brows softened, your mouth stood agape and you quickly waved your hands around, hoping to make whatever was going to come out of your mouth land with more emphasis.

"No, no, no. You think I'm Y/N, don't you?" Misa took in how you rubbed your temples and started to mutter, "It makes sense now. God, why does this keep happening?"

Misa scoffed and crossed her arms, taking a calculated step back as she eyed you.

"No, listen- you don't get it. We're twins. Identical. Whatever issue you think you have with me, you have with my sister— Y/N. I haven't seen you once in my life."

Misa's brows shot up to her hairline, clearly not falling for your ruse, "I'm sorry if I did something wrong, I'm really sorry, because I really liked you and I was picking up the courage to text you again. So when I saw you tonight... fuck, forgive me for thinking it would go any other way than you pretending to not know me."

"No- Listen, I'm as straight as a ruler. I'm telling you, it's my sister you're looking for. Wait, there she is."

"You know what? This was a mistake. You were a-"

"Everything alright?"

Misa turned around instantly, the lilt of your voice clearly contrasting with your sister's now that she had the two of you here to compare. She reared back, widened her eyes, and stood frozen in her place. Her eyes flitted from left to right a couple of times. Oh, no. She was seeing double, and it was already giving her a nausea and dizziness that came with the feeling of vertigo.

"Y/N, do you know this woman?" Your sister asked unsurely, having absolutely no clue what your history was and wanting to know if she needed to scream bloody murder or give you some space to talk out whatever the hell was going on.

Misa could only watch as your eyes raked over her, shocked at the sudden encounter and a little embarrassed at her seeing you less dolled up as when you'd first met. It was clear you had never expected to stumble upon Misa while out and about, and it took you a while before a gentle smile displayed across your face after the initial bashfulness and surprise had faded away.

"Hey, Misa. It's good to see you again. I mean it." Your voice was as soft as the eyes with which you looked at her. It rattled Misa. How could she had ever been so stupid as to believe that you would even think of pretending to not know her? Of course, you wouldn't be like that. She knew her gut feeling had been right about you. But damn, forgive her for thinking otherwise when she didn't know there were two of you walking on this earth.

She could now see the differences. It wasn't only the fact that your sister was dolled up and you were donning more comfortable clothing, but she noticed how your hair was the slightest shade darker than your sister's, how her features were a little harder than yours- though perhaps her makeup and contouring was to blame. But it was your sister's aura that greatly clashed with yours.

"Well, she clearly didn't think the same thing," Your sister muttered, still not sold on the idea of leaving you with the woman who had cornered her and spouted these harsh words her way. She pulled you to stand beside her, her hand not leaving yours.

You craned your head to look at Misa, curious, "Why?"

Your sister sighed, and you smelt the booze on her breath. You realised why you were here in the first place— to drive her back to your shared apartment, "The infamous switch-up."

Still confused as to why that would have made Misa unhappy to see you, you decided this was a conversation to be held without your sister. Besides, you didn't need her to know what you had been up to that time you'd been weird about where you'd been all night and morning.

You pushed the bundle of keys in her hands and gave her a look, silently communicating that you were all right, "I'll be right there."

"Okay, but can we go get Vicio's after?"

"If you pay."

"Fine."

Misa watched your sister walk away as you turned towards her, hands digging into the pockets of your jacket. You had no clue what had happened, and while that was perhaps for the better, Misa knew she had to explain it to you before your sister would talk about the weird encounter. But before she could, you had already taken the lead-

"Okay, so-" You took a deep breath, realising this was a moment that required you to be honest. It was as if it had been the universe's wish to have her appear in front of you so that you could overcome your fear and rip the bandaid off that had been festering ever since you'd last seen her, "I want to apologise. I've been an ass. I should've texted you, and I wanted to. I guess I was just a little taken aback."

Misa finally found her voice again, but it was small when she spoke, "Why?"

The tip of your shoe dug into the pebbles, scraping them aside, "About our night. At how it went."

Misa chuckled, dryly, almost afraid of the answer to even ask, "Good or bad?"

"Good! Really good, actually."

"And that surprised you?"

Startled, you blinked, "Hold up, why did you not text me?"

"I was busy." Misa winced at her own lie.

"I'm not one to judge, but shooting a quick text takes literally less than a minute, so that is no excuse."

Her voice was barely audible when she muttered, "Not if you keep overthinking what to text."

Her confession had you hitch the tiniest breath. Quietly, you wondered, "Would it have been something good or bad?"

"Good."

Misa nodded to herself, hands digging into her pockets, unsure what to say now that she had put her cards on the table for you to see. The ball was in your court now. She swallowed, dared to look up at you and widened her eyes when you blurted,

"It felt right. Right?"

"Very right." Misa agreed immediately.

It was silent again and Misa dared to take a step closer, "I don't know how people do one night stands if they're all like that."

Suddenly, you chuckled and shook your head, "It's weird, isn't it? We had sex before we properly knew each other and somehow I can't help but be drawn to you. Like... you. I want to know more about you. You've kind of been on my mind for weeks now, even before that night. You really intrigue me."

"So... it really was that good?"

A look was thrown her way, and she bit back her teasing smile.

"I... I wouldn't be opposed to do it again... but I'd love if it could happen after um-" Growing insecure, you stalled, thinking of your next words with a little more care, "-after we go out together somewhere. Get to know one another the... conventional way. You know?"

"A date?"

"Yeah. A date."

Misa stepped even closer, her hands finding yours and tangling your fingers together. She softly swung your arms from side to side as she looked at you, a cheeky grin on her face while inspecting your features.

"It's a green for me, right now. For a kiss," You tilted your head with a mischevous smile, clarifying, but furrowed your brows when Misa threw her head back and laughed.

"I already saw green earlier tonight," When she sensed the confusion on your face she quickly shook her head, "I'll tell you about it some other time."

Her thumbs softly padded across the furrow of your brows before leaning in and planting the softest kiss on your forehead. Then she went lower, planting one on your cheek and the corner of your lips. Before she could lean in for another one, you had already pulled her lips flush against yours. The practice you'd had that one night made the kiss effortless and instantly connecting within a matter of seconds.

Some people who'd left the restaurant laughed and chatted as they made their way to their cars. The disruption made you pull apart. Grinning like two cheshire cats, you held each other in your arms.

"We really did things out of order, didn't we?"

"We did. Reckon you'll propose to me before the fourth date?"

Misa beamed, "Fourth one, hm?" She placed a quick kiss on your lips, "I'm thinking before the third one."

You wanted to lean in again but it seemed your sister was too hungry to wait any longer— you heard the honking of your car from somewhere behind you,

"Want to tag along to Vicio with us?"

"I would... but I'm with a friend."

"Bring her along, my sister's paying anyway." You chuckled.

"Alright then, I might owe your sister an apology anyway."

Misa laughed, lifted her index finger to signal she'd be right back, and ran back to where she'd left Sofie. The blonde looked up as soon as she saw a radiating Misa hop back to her with an extra pep in her step. She glanced at her watch, realising Misa's sour mood had done a 180 in the span of five minutes.

"Oh no, don't tell me you fell for whatever bullshit she gave you. Misa, she hurt you, she'll do it again. They always do."

"Twins!" Misa squealed, "They're twins! Two of them! Exactly the same!"

"That's the biggest bullshit lie I've ever heard."

"No, I'm serious! I saw them! At the same time!"

Sofie went to sniff her drink, coming to the conclusion that the booze that was served at this party wasn't strong enough to hit Misa this hard this fast, "Did you drink too much that made you see double?"

Exasperated, Misa tugged Sofie off her seat and pulled her to the car park, where you were still waiting, beaming as bright as Misa was. Sofie took you in from afar— the bun, the heels and the dress were gone, and so was the fiery red lipstick. You couldn't have done that in five minutes.

And when she neared and you noticed her, walking up to her with your hand outstretched, she knew you were nothing like the icy woman who Misa had approached earlier that night. There was a certain warmth that radiated off you in bright beams, hitting her the second introductions were exchanged.

Misa and Sofie walked to their car later, promising to follow you and your sister to Vicio's.

Sofie leaned in,

"Beep, beep."

Misa made a face, chuckling in confusion when Sofie repeated herself.

"What's up?"

"That was my gaydar going off this time. Guess it still works, then." Sofie smiled brightly, "At least this one's proper into you, you were right after all."

Misa rolled her eyes, taking one last glance at you as your figure disappeared inside your car. Her phone in her pocket vibrated soon after, and she dug it out,

Drive safely to Vicio, because else I'll come and find you in the afterlife to get that date 😘

⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ

© 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝘂𝗯𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗵, 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲, 𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗱𝘂𝗰𝗲 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 𝗶𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝘄𝗮𝘆.🖤

[elliesbelle]

hiii love idk if you’re taking requests but if you are, would you be able to do something elliexreader based off of the song wish you were sober or heather by conan gray <3

while i die

chapter 1

pairing: best friend!ellie x reader

synopsis: only if ellie knew how much you loved her. but she likes someone better.

content warnings: modern au, cursing, angst, unrequited love, no comfort

word count: 4.3k

chapters: 1) while i die, 2) rained on with you, 3) eviscerated

series masterlist

my masterlist

i have a ko-fi if you like my work so much that you feel compelled to tip me ♡︎

the heartbreak trilogy spotify playlist

based on the conan gray song "heather"

a lot of y’all have asked for a part 2 to this one-shot, so i made a promise that if y’all get my friend’s band “equal creatures” to 350 followers on spotify, you will get a part 2 ♥︎

You roll over in bed towards your nightstand after a restless night of sleep. The first thing you reach for is your phone, which had been blaring for a while to wake you for work. You hit the seductive “snooze” button, not having any actual intentions to fall back asleep but knowing that you’ll stay lying in bed for two more hours if you’re not reminded to get up every eight minutes a few times. 

Unlocking your phone, you check your messages first. Two texts: one from your best friend Beth and another from your close coworker Lina. As you read their respective messages, you feel a black hole beginning to open up in your stomach. 

She still hasn’t texted me back… 

After responding blandly to your friends, you reluctantly open up Instagram and scan the stories of the people you follow. You ignore all that of your friends and instead tap on the one with the picture of a face you’ve memorized like the back of your hand. When it opens, your stomach lurches and your eyes go glassy. 

The first story was posted the night before and is of a tattooed hand holding a bouquet of flowers with a caption that reads, “her faves.” You notice that the flowers are pink camellias. Her new girlfriend’s favourite flowers. Your favourite flowers. 

The next story was that of two hands woven together with a caption that read, “she loved the flowers” right next to them with several heart emojis. One of the interlaced hands was adorned with several silver rings, one of which you recognized very well. You were the one who picked it out and gifted it to her. 

“Dude, what! This looks fucking amazing!” Ellie cried out. 

In her hands, she held a small, velvet blue box with a silver ribbon falling around it, unwrapped. Inside the box, safely cushioned, was a shiny, silver ring. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” You said, excitedly. “Check this out.” 

You picked the ring up from the box, lifting it up to her eye level. Delicately, you twisted what looked like a tiny hinge on the side to reveal that the ring actually contained multiple bands. The outer, exposed brim was decorated with ornate spirals. The next one had Latin engravings that you vaguely recognized as astronomical terms. The innermost hoops were inscribed with the symbols of the Western zodiac. You twisted the hinge back the other way to once more conceal the inner bands and give it the appearance of a singular ring again. 

“Holy fucking shit!” Ellie cussed loudly, dropping the box to clutch at your hands still holding the ring. “How the fuck?!” 

She snatched the ring out of your fingers, twisting the ring open and closed over and over. You giggled at her childlike enthusiasm. 

“So… You like it?” You asked, chuckling. 

“Fuck, yeah! Of course I love it!” She exclaimed. “It looks like a fucking armillary sphere!” 

“I genuinely have no idea what that is or what that means,” You admitted truthfully. “But as long as it makes you happy—” 

“Dude, of course it does!” She said excitedly. “You are the greatest best friend ever. Oh man, I’m never taking this shit off.” 

Ellie tried it out on several fingers and found that it fit best on her left ring finger. You desperately pushed away any and all implications of the positioning. 

“You really know me so well, man,” She sighed, admiring the ring on her hand. “You didn’t have to get this for me! It’s not even my birthday or anything!” 

You shrugged nonchalantly, even if the intentions behind your generosity were anything but nonchalant. 

“I just saw it and thought that you might like it.” 

“Well, you were wrong because I love it.” 

Ellie gave you a huge grin that ignited a wildfire in your stomach. 

“Oh! It’s made of sterling silver too, none of that cheap shit. So it won’t leave you with those gross, green stains or anything.” 

Ellie looked at you completely dumbfounded. 

“I really don’t know what I did to deserve you in my life.” 

You tap uneasily to view Ellie’s following story. The fingers holding your phone grow cold and begin to tremble as your eyes warily take in the face of Ellie’s new girlfriend. 

She was incredibly beautiful, undeniably so. Her eyes sparkled, mirroring the gentleness of a clear, blue sky on a bright, sunny day. She had the face of an angel, the ones you’d see in Renaissance paintings: pure, gentle, exquisite. The genuine, trustworthy look on her face makes it impossible for any sane person to hate her. 

Some part of you still did. But being desperately in love with your best friend meant you weren’t fully sane in the first place. 

You realize that she’s wearing a familiar sweater: Ellie’s favourite grey, polyester hoodie. You of all people knew how incredibly attached to that sweater she was, almost like it was a safety blanket. You couldn’t blame her; it was soft, warm, comforting. She took better care of it than she usually did the rest of her clothes. And it always smelled like Ellie. 

The caption for this picture was, “someone stole my favourite hoodie.” She’d tagged another Instagram account, sunny-heather, and it took everything in you not to click on it. 

Ellie’s girlfriend posed shyly with a bashful smile, throwing up a peace sign. It appeared as if Ellie had caught her mid-giggle. She had a perfect manicure, straight white teeth, dimples on each side of her face. She looked so sweet, nauseatingly so. 

She looked so beautiful wearing that sweater. 

December had just begun and the weather was finally catching up with the season. After a mostly and uncommonly warm month of November, you hadn’t bothered wrapping up earlier that morning before leaving the house. It was to your detriment when around midday, you were hit with gusts of brisk air that brought goosebumps to your bare, uncovered arms. 

Later that afternoon, you and Ellie visited your local Starbucks for both situational and liquid heat. Ellie had taken pity on your shivering form all day and lent you her hoodie, having already been wearing a warm, long-sleeved shirt underneath. You’d initially declined it, but when your body began to reach hypothermic levels, you quickly pulled it over your head and accepted its polyester warmth. 

As you got in line to order, Ellie was teasing you for your poor choice of winter attire. 

“This is why you check the weather before you leave your house, dummy.” 

“It was 62 degrees over the weekend! I didn’t know it was going to be this cold all of a sudden!” 

“Dude, it’s already the third of December. You should have expected it to get cold as shit at some point.” 

“At some point! But not yet, I’m not ready!” 

Ellie playfully rolled her eyes at your sheer stubbornness as the cashier called you forward. You both ordered large hot chocolates, neither of you a huge fan of coffee. You and Ellie played a brief dance of who was going to pay for your drinks. Ellie eventually and quickly won, as she usually did. You conceded and consented to be the one to leave some cash in the tip jar before you both scooted over to the side towards the pick-up counter. You bickered affectionately back and forth until your drinks were eventually placed in front of you. 

You visited this particular Starbucks regularly, partly because of its convenience in distance to both your apartment and your job. But mostly, it was larger than a usual café and spacious enough for several quiet, peaceful corners for patrons to occupy. Ellie’s and your favourite spot was a table on the loft-like second floor where you could look down at other customers and make up stories or pass off harmless, though sometimes needless, judgment. 

As you carefully sipped your hot chocolate, you and Ellie made your way upstairs to your usual, unoccupied table. You made yourself comfortable, sitting across from her. She rolled up her sleeves instinctively, showing off her arm tattoos, including the one of a moth perched on top of several ferns. Of all her tattoos, that one had always been your favourite. 

“So are you planning on wearing my sweater all day or—?” She inquired. 

“What do you mean ‘your’ sweater? This is mine now.” You proclaimed. 

“Hey!” She protested. “Don’t you dare think of stealing my favourite hoodie!” 

“It’s just so comfy!” You giggled. “And it’s so soft and cozy, and you know how much I love polyester.” 

“Thief.” Ellie chuckled. 

You made a show of burrowing into the hoodie in order to claim your clothed territory. Ellie laughed at your goofiness. 

“See, this sweater was made just for me!” You insisted, returning to a regular position. 

“I mean, I will admit that it does look better on you than it does on me.” 

You blinked. 

“Really?” You asked. 

“For sure, dude,” Ellie insisted. “I just look like some boring, basic white dude when I wear it. But I don’t know, you kind of pull it off.” 

“I pull off a plain, grey sweater?” 

“I don’t know what to tell you, man! You just look cute in it!” 

Your cheeks grew so warm that their heat rivaled that of your hot chocolate. 

Before you could properly respond to Ellie’s casual, off-handed compliment, she spoke up once more. 

“We should really come here more often.” She said. 

“Oh, umm,” You began, still reeling from the moment. “Yeah, we should. We don’t go as often as we did back in high school.” 

“Yeah, we really wasted our allowance on so many shitty, dry cake pops.” Ellie recalled. You laughed at the fond memory. 

“Why the sudden interest though?” You asked curiously. 

“I mean, this used to be our ritual, you know? Getting drinks and just hanging out here for hours.” 

“You know, we do that everywhere else already, El.” You smiled, shaking your head. 

“Okay, true, true,” Ellie relented. “Buuuut, did you happen to see the barista that took our orders earlier?” 

Your eyebrows furrowed before looking down towards the ground floor and scanning the front counter. You weren’t quite sure which one of the several baristas had served you, not having paid much attention when you were putting your orders in. 

“Uhh, I guess? I mean, not really.” You admitted. “Why?”

“What do you mean ‘why’?” Ellie playfully scoffed in surprise. “You didn’t see that she was hot as fuck?”  

Your stomach dropped at her words. 

“O-oh.” You murmured. “I guess I didn’t notice.” 

“Come on, dude, you have eyes! She was gorgeous!” 

You gulped as you felt your heart plummet towards the floor. 

“Do you think I should ask for her number?” Ellie questioned, completely oblivious to your shift in demeanour as she tried to sneak a peek at the front counter below. 

“Oh, umm, sure, I guess so.” 

“I mean, I don’t wanna come off as a creep. Plus, she might not even be gay.” 

Your fingertips grew colder and colder with each second that passed, despite the way you were grasping your warm cup tightly. You would have been more worried about your drink exploding in your hand if you were much more present in the moment. 

“What am I talking about, she works here. Of course she’s gay.” Ellie chuckled at her own joke. 

You could barely muster enough of your trembling voice to reply, settling for a seemingly agreeable hum. 

“What do you think, dude?” Ellie asked, finally turning back towards you. 

You feigned a smile, succeeding only in giving her a weak, partial one. 

“Go ahead, El. Why not?” 

Ellie’s last Instagram story was what sent a jagged knife through your heart. 

It was a video this time: she had her arm wrapped around her girlfriend, who was still wearing her hoodie. Both wearing wide smiles, they were both snickering about something for a moment or two. 

Then Ellie planted a kiss on her lips. And again. And again. 

As the video ends with their lovey-dovey giggling, your lips let out an involuntary sob. You press your fists onto your eyes in an attempt to stop the tears from falling. Head throbbing and gut nauseated, your body trembles from the waves of anguish crashing down on you. 

You stare at the ceiling and consider staying home from work. Nobody would benefit from being around your zombie-like presence. But feeling pathetic about missing work as a consequence to your broken heart, you chastise yourself for the mere thought of it. 

You spend a few minutes composing yourself, pushing every emotion to the back of your brain as forcefully as you can. It seems to last for a lifetime, but you’re able to eventually soothe your tears and take several deep breaths. 

Forcing your lifeless body out of bed, you begin your pre-work morning routine. The streaks on your cheeks from the unfaithful tears previously falling were scrubbed away when you washed your face. Tremoring fingers prepare your breakfast, which you end up mostly throwing out as a result of a queasy stomach. It feels completely futile to continue your day, but Ellie’s world continues to turn. Why shouldn’t yours? 

You’re at work, spacing out as you’d been doing so often recently. Coworkers continue to ask throughout the day if you’re alright, but you merely smile every time and assure them that you’re just tired. That same smile fades once you turn away, a vacant expression taking its place once more. 

Before you came to work, you made the resolve not to check your phone every twenty minutes to see if your previously unread texts were responded to. But as each hour passes, fighting the urge becomes more of a struggle. 

On your lunch break, you relent and finally check your messages. You only have one unread text from your best friend Beth, checking on you. None from Ellie. 

You begin to chew nervously on your lip before switching to your nails when your friend and coworker Lina finds you. She pulls up a chair to sit next to you before tugging your fingers away from your lips. 

“I thought you stopped biting your nails,” She says, frowning. “You were doing so well.” 

“Sorry, Li-Li,” You reply, gingerly pulling your hand back. “I just—” 

“What happened now?” Lina asks knowingly. 

“Nothing,” You sigh. “That’s literally it. Nothing. She hasn’t texted me or called me or anything. She hasn’t even read my messages or even seen my Instagram stories.” 

“Babe…” Lina says sympathetically. 

Your friends have been lovingly chastising you lately for obsessively checking if Ellie had viewed your Instagram or Snapchat stories. You’d unintentionally trained your eyes to scan through your stories’ viewers to spot Ellie’s picture and username. Whenever you wouldn’t spot a picture of the auburn-haired girl among the list, you’d fight the instinctive urge not to break down every time. 

“You can’t be doing that anymore,” Lina continues. “You’re driving yourself crazy.” 

“What am I supposed to do, Lina?” You ask desperately. “It’s the only thing I get from her nowadays, and it’s barely anything.” 

“Exactly, it’s barely anything,” Lina repeats. “I know you love her, but…” 

“I know, Li-Li.” 

“She’s not even being a good friend right now. You deserve better than that.” 

“I really don’t.” 

“Stop that. Yes, you do.” 

“I just want her, Li.” 

“She’s obviously not good for you, honey.” 

Your phone buzzes from your alarm alerting you that your break has ended. You stand up from your chair. 

“I’ll talk to you later, Li-Li.” 

You hadn’t replied to Ellie all day, ignoring her texts asking if you wanted to come over and hang out. 

Ever since that day when Ellie asked out the girl from the coffee shop, she’d been spending immense amounts of her free time with her. The rest was spent with you, talking about her. Ellie hadn’t been much of a talker ever since you were both kids, but now she was endlessly babbling to you about her new girlfriend. 

You’d learned that her name was Heather Sonnen. She was in her final year of college and was attending a university nearby. She was studying to become a veterinarian and had a golden retriever named Sunny. Her favourite colour is purple. She likes to go hiking and kayaking on the weekends when she’s not working. She was very good at kissing and even better in bed. 

Every little detail you learned about her felt like yet another crack on your already broken heart. You spent many sleepless nights bawling alone in your bed, screaming and crying over a pathetic love you could never do anything about. 

It felt so sick, so pitiful that a girl who would never kiss you or touch you or love you took up every corner of your mind. You knew you could never be pretty enough, never amount to Ellie’s idea of a dream girl. And this new beautiful, angelic girl she’d fallen for continued to prove that. 

You would watch the way Ellie’s eyes lit up any time she spoke about her, the goofy grin on her face every time she said her name. You’d seen Ellie through several other relationships, each one treating your heart like a Hans Moretti box. But this time, her glow was brighter and her smiles were wider. You could tell just how far and how hard she’s fallen. 

As you were laying on your bed, your phone buzzed as you received another text from Ellie. You ignored it and closed your eyes, having no desire to hear more about her perfect saint of a girlfriend. After several more minutes passed, your phone began buzzing in succession. You sighed, waited a few moments, and eventually relented to answer it. 

“Hey, Els,” You greeted her. “Sorry, I was napping just now.” 

“Oh, my bad, dude. I didn’t mean to wake you.” 

“It’s okay.” 

“Have you not seen my messages though? I’ve been texting you all day.” Ellie demanded. 

“Oh, sorry, I just haven’t really been on my phone today.” You lied. 

“Bullshit, man, you’re always on that thing.” 

“It’s the truth, Els, I promise.” You lied once more. 

After a second or two as Ellie considered your words, she responded. 

“Alright, well, I was trying to see if you wanted to hang out today.” 

You stopped yourself from audibly sighing. 

“Sorry, I can’t today. Got a lot of shit to catch up on and take care of.” 

“Come on, dude, blow it off. I haven’t seen you all week.” 

“I really can’t, Els, not today.” 

You heard Ellie exhale in frustration on the other end of the line. 

“What’s been with you lately? We’ve barely hung out this month and you take forever to text or call me back nowadays.” 

You began to chew the inside of your cheek. 

“I’ve just… been going through a lot lately. That’s all.” 

“What, and you can’t tell me about it?” 

“N-not really.” 

“Why not? I thought we’re best friends. And don’t say that Beth is your best friend; I 100% had you first.” 

“We are, we are, but—“ 

“If something’s going on with you, I seriously wanna know.” 

“It’s nothing important or specific. Just been struggling mentally and all. Not been having the best time.” 

A moment or two passed where you held your 1breath, hoping she’d buy yet another lie. 

“Okay. I’m sorry you’re going through that right now. Can I do anything for you?” 

“No, it’s okay.” You replied, sighing in relief. “I’ll be okay.” 

“Alright, well, if you change your mind, just let me know.” 

“I will.” You said, knowing you never would. You couldn’t do that to her. 

“I—“ You began nervously. “I’m really sorry about today, Els.” 

“It’s okay, dude.” 

“Maybe tomorrow, if you—“ 

“Ahh, can’t tomorrow, I have plans with my pretty girl.” 

“Oh. Okay.” 

“Actually, I’ll text Heather in a bit and see if she can hang out right now so we can get a head start on our all-day date tomorrow. I planned out all this romantic ass shit to do.” 

“Ahh.” You replied, voice constrained in pain. Ellie didn’t notice. 

“Oh dude, I didn’t even tell you about this new strap I got for her—“ 

“Hey, Els,” You interrupted, not wishing to hear the rest of her sentence. “I think I hear someone at my door. I’ll call you back in a little bit, okay?” 

“Oh, okay, that’s fine. I’ll be right here.” 

“Right. Bye, Els.” 

“Talk to you soon—“ She was saying as you quickly hung up the phone, unable to further control the sobs that had been threatening to emerge ever since Ellie had said her name. 

You rolled to your side and hugged your legs to your chest, attempting to calm your hyperventilations. There was a ringing in your ears accompanied by Ellie’s words. 

“…my pretty girl.” 

“…planned out all this romantic ass shit…” 

“…this new strap I got for her—“ 

You’d been trying desperately to be a good friend to Ellie for the past month, despite everything. You’d listened and planned and supported, all the things a best friend should do. But the more mesmerized Ellie grew, the more everything within you died. 

You never bothered calling Ellie back that day. 

The drive home from work was mundane and uneventful. An old song sung by Ray Charles about being in love with your best friend plays on the radio. The second bridge is cut off when you turn the key in the ignition and exit your car. 

The steps you take to reach your apartment feel heavy, and it takes everything in you not to collapse where you are. You don’t even bother to take off your shoes when you cross the threshold into the dark entryway. The cushions of your living room couch wheeze sadly as you collapse into them. 

You drop your work bag onto the floor next to you before turning on the TV. Eventually, you choose to put on some basic early 2000s sitcom as easy background noise. It’s something you’ve seen several times before and your mind doesn’t fully process what the plot is or who the characters are or what episode you’re on. 

Your eyes gaze away from the television screen and to a blank space on one of the walls. There’s a spot where the wall’s off-white paint was accidentally streaked off the first week you moved in. Ellie had been helping you hang a picture up, and you were fooling around too much that the ladder you’d been using almost slid down and left a mark. You never bothered covering it up. 

You stare at the mark as if it’d transport you back to that day, back to the mostly carefree moments when pining after your best friend was a mere minor inconvenience. But her love for another and ignorance of your struggle turned that inconvenience into an anguish you were not prepared for. 

That day you fully accepted the feelings you had for Ellie, there was something within that knew instinctively that you could never have her. She was an impossible dream that the universe cruelly created to be untouchable. Deep inside, you knew a long time ago that your plain, boring friendship was just a placeholder for something bigger and more meaningful in her life. And she seems to have finally found that. 

Blinking yourself out of your stupor, you eventually tear your eyes away from the wall. You take your phone out of a pants pocket and open up Instagram. Accepting the feelings of miserable self-pity, you once again scan your stories’ viewers for Ellie’s name. You finally spot it. You let out a sad sigh. 

I guess she at least remembers I exist. 

Orange and purple dance around Ellie’s profile picture before you tap on it. She’d posted a story from a local band she liked and another about a new video game release she was excited about. The last was a selfie of her posing in her bathroom mirror. 

It was an inconsequential picture, just another Ellie thirst trap. She looked handsome in it as she always did. But something catches your eye, and you wish it didn’t. 

On her left ring finger, she was wearing a silver ring. But it wasn’t one you recognized. It wasn’t the silver ring you’d gotten for her. The one she always wore on that finger. 

Maybe the ring accidentally broke. Maybe it got dirty and she has yet to clean it. Maybe she just felt like switching it out for a day. 

Each excuse you come up with seems more and more pathetic. You know there was no point in justifying it, no point in finding reason. You know that Ellie wasn’t overanalyzing it. Not like you are now. 

Your heartbeats are heavy and you suppress the reflex to throw up. You open up your messages and tap on Ellie’s contact, knowing the most rational thing was to simply move on and continue being her friend. But what you find abruptly breaks your heavy heartbeats. 

The text messages you had sent still remained unanswered. But there was a slight change. 

She read my texts… five hours ago… 

Ellie wasn’t always a big texter, always preferring old-school face-to-face interaction. But with you, she had always been the kind of friend to respond right away. Even if just to say she was busy and would respond when she was free, she never left you hanging. 

Your jaw tenses and your vision momentarily becomes blurry. Your bottom lip trembles and you find that you can’t stop hastily bouncing your right knee. Tears form behind your eyes and your cheeks grow feverish, but you’re unable to process or feel anything except the movement in your hands. 

Your shaky fingers lead you to Ellie’s contact in your phone without a second thought. You click “Edit” and delete every piece of information, from her picture to her birthday to her nickname. You save your changes and scroll downwards. You stop sharing your location with her before glancing at those conclusive three words in red right at the bottom. 

Block this caller. 

Without hesitation, you definitively tap the button. 

author's notes:

this was very therapeutic. did this describe something i’ve been going through lately? no why would you think that what gave you that crazy impression ahahaha (shut up no i'm not thinking and pining over my ex, shut up!)

pink camellias because pink camellias represent longing lmaooo, i love symbolism and etc.

the ring reader gave ellie is based on a couple ring i gave to my my ex-girlfriend (the one i live with, not the one i’m in love with)! it’s super cool, i felt like it would be something ellie would wear!

is the part about reader obsessively checking if ellie has viewed their insta stories based on real life? no, why the fuck would you say that

the whole starbucks and hot chocolate thing is a little reference to something in my personal life but i refuse to elaborate further

me once again inserting myself in reader with them always saying they’re tired when someone asks if they’re okay cause news flash, i’m always tired 🙂

reader’s friends’ names beth and lina are inspired by my irl best friend and work bestie’s names :)

ellie’s gf’s last name is purposeful but i again refuse to elaborate further

the ray charles song mentioned is “you don’t know me” but my fave rendition is actually by jann arden from the “my best friend’s wedding” soundtrack (my family’s obsessed with the score of that movie, we had the tape and then the CD of it and played it nonstop growing up)

sorry this took forever to write cause LOL it may have been a little hard cause it was a little TOO autobiographical... hope y'all enjoy anyway lmao

taglist: @elliessknife, @mina-2812, @bellasfavepansexual, @slaysksmska, @theganymedes, @sno-leopards, @cosmikoo, @elliesnumber1gf, @eleactric, @thatgiraffefromtlou, @bellswlw, @kissesforells, @ratdungeon, @elliewilliams8fingers, @wex--12

[hearts-hunger]

january blue || josh kiszka x reader

Read on AO3 | Masterlist | Cabin Fever Masterlist

Summary: You're sick, and Josh takes good care of you.

Pairings: Josh x Reader | Genre: fluff, h/c, sickfic | Word Count: 2k | Warnings: none!

A/N: Here's another one of those self-serving fics that I hope you like :) Also this is lowkey an ad for Netflix's “The Greatest Night in Pop” because that was a great documentary. Anyhoopla I hope you like it! ♡

“Sweet baby, when is your birthday again?”

You pulled your blank gaze from the waiting room wall, frowning a little as you looked over at Josh. It took you a second to think of a response; the fluorescents overhead were harsh, and everything seemed unnaturally bright under them. Josh held the pen poised and ready above the intake form, waiting for you to tell him your birthdate.

The uncomfortable vinyl chair creaked when you turned towards him. “You don't know my birthday?” you asked, unsure if you should be surprised by that. You were surprised, but you were also rather disoriented, so maybe it was a normal question for an attentive boyfriend to ask.

He cracked a smile, a welcome bit of tenderness in the cold, stark doctor’s office. 

“I do,” he said. “I was only teasing.” He jotted it down along with your other details, taking care of the task for you as you sat in the waiting room together. It was sweet of him to do it and try to take your mind off things while he did, and it made the appointment seem a little less daunting.

“What are your symptoms?” he asked, writing down the ones he already knew. “Earache, sore throat, congestion?”

You nodded, covering your ear with your hand, careful of pressing too hard. “Dizziness, too. And a headache.”

“My poor baby,” he said sympathetically. He finished up the intake form. “Okay, honey. You’re all set.” He returned the clipboard to the front desk, taking your hand when he came back to sit next to you.

“What do you think?” he asked. His hair was a golden halo of soft curls, and it didn’t surprise you that even the awful atmosphere of the doctor’s office didn’t dim his warmth and cheerfulness. “Do you wanna read one of these magazines that have been here since the eighties? There’s probably some older ones if that sounds too modern.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “I think I’m okay, thanks.”

He smiled. “Well, let me know if you change your mind.”

He pulled out his phone to answer a text from Danny; you rested your head on his shoulder, trying to ignore the persistent ache and the vaguely panicky feeling you always got at the doctor. 

Josh gave you a quick smooch on your forehead. You smiled.

“What was that for?” you asked.

“Danny said to give you a get-well kiss,” he said. “So there you go.”

You cuddled closer to him. “Thanks for coming with me.”

“Of course, baby.” He pocketed his phone. “Thanks for asking me. I would have been sad to find out you went without me.”

You raised your head to look at him, a bemused smile crossing your face. “Why?”

He shrugged. “I know you don’t like the doctor, and I like to be with you for things that make you nervous, if I can. I’m glad you know you can ask me for help.”

Your smile was wobbly, then. “Aw, Joshy. I love you, you know.”

He gave you a sweet smile. “I love you too, baby. Hopefully we’ll be in and out, and then we can spend the rest of the day cuddled up on the couch. Sound good?”

“Sounds wonderful,” you said with a sigh. 

You lost track of time in the waiting room, sucked into the weird vortex of discomfort and the smell of antiseptic, but eventually your name was called. Josh went with you, and though you might have felt a little embarrassed to be a grown woman with a personal escort to the doctor, you just didn’t have the energy to care. Besides, there was nothing wrong with having Josh with you, and you were glad you didn’t have to do it alone.

He waited patiently while you got your vitals checked, making jokes about your pulse being a little high with white coat syndrome. When the nurse left you alone in the room again, he gave you a thumbs up.

“You’re doing great, baby,” he said with a sweet smile. “I bet you’re the best patient they’ve had all day.”

“I do my best,” you said. You fidgeted on the table, the paper crinkling under you. “Can we get coffee after this?”

“Sure, honey. Whatever you want.”

You gave him a teasing smile. “Whatever I want, huh? Could you strip naked right now and do the hula for me?”

He laughed, and the warm sound of it took the edge off the chill of the sterile room.

“Maybe not whatever you want,” he corrected. He stood and came over to the exam table, giving your thigh a comforting pat. “But I think I can handle coffee.”

You winced and tilted your head as you felt a sharp pain go from your ear all the way down your neck. Josh gently covered the spot with his warm hand, and you leaned into his touch.

“There’s this new documentary on Netflix,” you said, trying to distract yourself from the ache. “About the night they got the supergroup together for ‘We Are The World’.”

“I saw the trailer,” he agreed. He slowly ran his fingers over your fevered skin. “You want to watch that when we get home?”

“Sure. We can make a roster of who should be in the next version with you guys.”

He smiled. “Okay, baby. I’d like that.” A sympathetic frown tugged at his features when you grimaced again.

“I'm sorry you don't feel good, honey,” he said. “I know a jacked up ear isn't very fun.”

You breathed a laugh. “I shouldn't complain. Your whole eardrum exploded, so mine’s easy in comparison.”

He chuckled. “Are we in a competition for worst ear injury? That's kinda weird, even for us.”

You leaned your head against his, thankful for the way he comforted you and made you smile without even trying. 

He pulled back when the door handle turned, and gave your hand a squeeze before he took his seat again. The doctor gave you a quick exam, confirming an ear infection secondary to a sinus infection, and prescribed you a round of antibiotics. 

Josh got you squared away at the desk before you left, and you were content to let him do the talking as the pain started to catch up with you. He led you out to the car, getting you settled in the passenger seat before he got in himself.

“Still feel up for coffee?” he asked.

You curled up in a pitiful little ball. “Yes, please. But maybe I’ll get the Medicine Ball instead.”

He kept one hand on your thigh as he drove, and you half dozed with your hands wrapped around the wonderfully warm Starbucks cup. He ran into the store to pick up your prescription and a few other things, and though he’d promised to be quick, he was gone longer than you’d expected.

“Where did you go?” you said, an irritated, petulant tone creeping into your voice. “The Bermuda Triangle?”

“I’m sorry, baby,” he said sincerely, putting the bags in the back of the Jeep. “The pharmacy line was super long. I guess I should have taken you home and come back out for your medicine.”

You softened, feeling a little guilty. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be grumpy with you when you're running around doing everything for me.”

He touched a hand to your cheek. “You don’t have to apologize, baby. I know you don't feel good. I understand if you’re grumpy.”

You held his hand and kept it pressed to your cheek for a moment. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure, baby. Let’s get you home, okay?”

At home, he got your medicine and some painkillers into you before he ran you a bath. He sat on the edge of the tub, brushing your hair back from your face.

“I think you’ll feel better if you have a nap, baby,” he said, keeping his voice quiet. “Do you want to eat something before you lay down?”

You shook your head. “I don’t really have an appetite.”

“I understand. I’d like you to try and eat a little something, though, just so the medicine doesn't make you sick. How about some soup?”

You looked up at him. “Can you do the spinach and rice one Jake makes?”

He nodded slowly. “Uh... yes. I think so.” You laughed when he pulled out his phone to ask his brother for the recipe.

He pressed a kiss to your hair. “Let me go get it cooking,” he said. “You enjoy your bath.”

You gratefully sank into the warm water, letting it soothe your aches until you felt all jellied and tired. Still, you were reaching the edge of your tolerance for the consistent pain; you knew the Tylenol had to be kicking in soon, but until it did, you were steadily getting more outdone with feeling so miserable. You hardly spoke when Josh came to help you out and brought you warm pajamas, and he watched you with worry as he steered you to the couch.

You winced when the pain spiked suddenly. “Oh my god, ow.”

Josh pulled back from you. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

“No. My stupid ear.” You gingerly pressed your hand to it, close to tears with frustration and discomfort. You looked pitifully up at him. “It hurts, Joshy.”

“I know, baby,” he said gently. “I’m sorry. What can I do?”

You shook your head, unable to think of anything, even if there was anything he could do. He just pulled you close and held you in a safe, steady hug, and it was exactly what you needed.

“My sweet baby,” he said softly. “I’m so sorry you’re hurting.”

A few tears spilled over, and you buried your face against his chest.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you said in a small voice.

“Honey,” he soothed. “You’re welcome. You don't have to thank me. I wish I could do more to help.”

You hugged him tighter, resting in his warmth and closeness. “You’re perfect, Josh.”

He rested his head against yours and rocked you gently. “I love you, my sweet girl.”

When the uptick in pain finally subsided, maybe because the medicine had finally kicked in, you let yourself be settled on the couch in a nest of pillows. Josh covered you with every fuzzy blanket he could find until you were practically buried in them.

“Joshy,” you giggled. 

He smiled. “There’s that sweet laugh,” he said tenderly. “I missed it. What’s got you so tickled?”

You tried to lift your arms under the blankets. “I’m gonna be trapped in here.”

He chuckled. “It’s my master plan. Keep you wrapped up in blankets so you can never escape me.”

“I don’t want to escape you.”

“Just making sure.” He held your face in his hands and gave you kiss after kiss after kiss, each one sweet and gentle and joyful. “I love you very much, you know.”

You gave him a bashful smile. “Yeah, I know.”

You had dinner — Josh had replicated Jake’s recipe perfectly, which he insisted was thanks to his twin’s detailed instructions — and watched the documentary about the recording of ‘We Are The World’. The two of you spent a while listing people you wanted in your supergroup to play with Greta Van Fleet.

“I want Noah Kahan and Gregory Alan Isakov,” you said.

Josh nodded sagely. “I see the vision. We should get Labi Siffre too.”

“Can we go back in time and get John Denver?” you asked.

He smiled. “Yes. I’m making that executive decision. Because I want to grab the original lineup of Fairport Convention.”

“So... we’re doing a folk rock version, then?”

He hummed in agreement. “And we make friends with everybody, and it’s the number one single in the world, and it’s your favorite song that we’ve ever done.”

You laughed and cuddled against him when he pulled you close.

He ran his hand up and down your arm. “I'm glad you’re feeling a little better, honey.”

You gave a contented sigh. “Me too.”

It had started to rain when you got home, and there was still a gentle, steady drumbeat on the roof that matched the hazy blue wash against your windows. Josh held you close and told you about what they’d worked on in the studio, and before long, the warmth of his voice and the sound of the rain worked as surely as a lullaby to pull you towards sleep.

Josh brushed his thumb over your cheek. “You’re so beautiful, baby,” he said softly.

You tilted your face up for a kiss, and he obliged you. He was all love and gentleness and warmth, as he always was, and you melted into his touch.

“You love me lots, don’t you?” you asked.

“Yes, baby. Lots and lots.”

“Oh good,” you said, cosy and sleepy and content in the safety of his arms. “I love you lots too.”

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