#It's still her fault. No matter what she says no matter how many times she convinces herself otherwise.

[emotionoitme]

i didn't know (2)

i didn't know - skinshape

this is the second post for this chapter because of tumblr's block limit. read the first one here

“this one?” she holds up a silky black fabric, “or…this one?” it looks the same, but red. 

he stares at the options blankly for a second.

“i, uh…the red one?” he answers cluelessly. either way he’s gonna wanna rip it off of her the second she puts it on. 

she gives him a look to elaborate. 

“i don’t know,” he sighs, “you could wear a garbage bag to dinner and look good.”

“oh, that would be cute,” she rolls her eyes, setting the options back down on the bed. 

it was one of those rare days where carmen had taken off work to relax, sprawled out on her bed—shirtless with unruly curls. 

“try ‘em on for me,” he suggests, folding his arms behind his head. 

her eyes dart to the bulge of his biceps, his armpit hair, having absolutely no idea why the sight is so enticing.

“mkay,” she smiles, pulling the hem of her borrowed shirt up over her head, revealing nothing besides panties underneath. 

“fuck,” he groans, enunciating the word sharply, graciously taking in the sight in front of him. “come over here.”

this puts a grin on her face. no matter how many times she does it, he always has the same reaction. she begins to saunter over to his side of the bed, watching how he tilts his chin up like he’s expecting a kiss. 

“i could just wear this tonight,” she suggests, trailing her finger over his jaw. 

he gives a hum of approval. “except we wouldn’t leave the house,” caressing her hip gently. 

“we could have a night in,” she suggests. he shakes his head. 

“we always do. i wanna take you out.”

“yeah?” she leans in, placing a gentle kiss to his lips, “you gonna wine and dine me?” 

“mhm. give me a real kiss.” 

she giggles and leans back in again, giving him another soft, barely-there peck before pulling away again. he tightens his jaw and snaps the band of her panties, making her release a small yelp. 

“more,” he demands. 

“so needy,” she teases, tracing her finger over his lip, catching the bottom one and pushing it down to show his teeth. she loves using his own words against him. 

“fuck off,” he laughs, turning his head away. 

“i’ll give you a real one on our date.”

“i have to wait that long?” 

“mhm,” she picks up the black dress and walks in front of the mirror, holding it in front of her body, “you can work on your self restraint.”

“i have plenty of self restraint,” he argues, sitting up onto his forearms.

“yeah right,” she slips into the fabric and threads her arms through the straps. 

“oh, and you do? you came onto me within the first month of living here.”

“i would’ve done it earlier if you were home more often,” she admits unashamedly. “what do you think? cute?” turning so he could see the front of the dress. 

“you-,” he stops in his tracks, eyes flickering over the way the fabric hugs her figure, “i wouldn’t say cute.” hot is more fitting, “but yeah, i like it.” 

she rolls her eyes, and slips the straps back down her shoulders. 

“but y’know that means you have less self restraint than me, right?” he asks, revisiting the disagreement, “because i was gonna keep it…professional.” 

“professional, my ass. i saw the way you would look at me when i first moved in.” 

“wh-how would i look at you?” 

“how you’re looking at me right now.”

oh. his eyes snap back up to her face, having been caught red handed. it’s not his fault she looks good. and after all, he is just a man. 

she turns away from him and shimmies the dress down her hips. 

“okay. fine,” he concedes, craning his neck to watch her breasts in the mirror, “but i did restrain myself.” 

“please,” she scoffs, “i had you wrapped around my finger the second i got here.” she turns back to him, and watches his eyes flicker down her body, then back up. 

he takes a moment to respond, a look of contemplation on his face. she wasn’t wrong, at all. but he still felt the need to contest. 

“tell you what,” he sits up, “we can put it to the test.”

she gives him a questioning look, tilting her head to the side. 

“no touching. no kissing…first one to break loses.” he has a smug smirk on his face.

“you’re not funny,” she says, unamused.

“i’m being serious. you say i don’t have restraint, but i know you don’t.” 

“you’re gonna eat those words. i’m gonna kick your ass at this game,” she retorts. 

“yeah?”

“mhm. winner gets head.” 

“fine by me,” he nods. either way, he’ll win. 

“i’m still gonna hold your hand tonight, though.” she pouts.

“yeah. we’ll just keep it uh…PG.” 

she snorts out a laugh at this. “PG?” 

“mhm.” he nods. “family friendly.” 

“okay. well get out of my room then. cause i kind of wanna pounce on you.”

carmen lets out a soft laugh. this was going to be an easy game.

-

…or so he thought. 

up until the moment she came down the stairs in that fucking red dress. 

it hugs her curves like a glove, dawning dainty straps and a plunging neckline. his brain actually stutters for a moment watching her descend the stairs, just silently staring at her with eyes wide as saucers. 

a grin forms on the girl’s face at his stunned expression. she put the dress on expecting a reaction, but wasn’t expecting speechless. 

“jesus christ,” is the first thing that exits his mouth, and it comes out strained. 

“you like it?” she asks, giving a slow turn so he could admire it at every angle. 

“it’s-yeah…you look…amazing.” 

“bet you wanna touch, huh?” she teases with a grin on her face. 

“i’m-yeah. fuck yeah, i do.” he exhales, standing from the couch, walking closer to her. 

“well, you can,” she reaches forward to straighten out his suit jacket, “if you keep it PG.”

he lets out a small chuckle at this, placing a hand on her hip, stroking his thumb against her. he studies her face. the way she’s done her makeup is classy and light. she’s wearing a red lipstick that makes him wonder what it would look like smeared across her face. 

“what’s up with your tie?” she asks, breaking him out of his trance. she’s furrowing her brows at the knot. 

“oh, i, uh…i can’t really tie one,” he admits bashfully. “i’ll do it for you,” she gives him a soft smile and reaches to undo the knot. 

the way her fingers brush against his neck leaves his skin feeling hot. 

like most things between them recently, it feels very domestic, having her tie his tie. he can’t stop staring at her as she does it, either, transfixed with the way she’s all dolled up for him. 

“there,” she loops the knot, and pushes it up to tighten, “very handsome.” her hand comes to the side of his face, and she strokes her thumb over his jaw. the way their eyes lock feel more intimate than carmen expects, feeling as if he’s baring his soul under her gaze. he wants to kiss her so bad, inwardly cursing his juvenile challenge he posed hours ago. cursing the fantasies that flood his mind of keeping her at home—providing for her, having her tie his ties and pack his lunches and have his babies. cursing the cruel way in which the world seems to rip away all that brings him joy. 

“you, uh…ready to go?” he clears his throat, pulling away from her, turning his head to hide a pained expression. 

“yeah. let me just grab my wallet.”

“leave it,” he commands, “you won’t need it.” 

a slight look of surprise forms on her face, morphing into a smile as the implication seeps in. 

“just wait for a second,” she turns to walk to the stairs, “it’s on my nightstand.” 

carmen grabs her wrist with a “hey,” stopping the girl in her tracks. 

“what did i just say?” he chides lowly. “leave it. let’s go.”

she turns to face him, taking in his serious expression. stern and handsome—it makes her want to push. but she figures she can save it for later, after she wins. 

“yes sir,” she responds, gazing up at him endearingly. 

he’s almost a little surprised at her obedience. feels himself puff up a little at the name. 

without another word, he opens the door and offers his arm. she takes it happily. 

-

the entire date ends up being a lot fancier than she ever would have expected. 

carmen had explained to her, as they rode in the back of the private car he had ordered, that he wanted to make tonight really special. partially to make up for the fact that he hadn’t been gentlemanly enough to take her out on a proper date before tonight, but mostly just because he wanted to spoil her with some good food before she leaves. 

“now, uh…i know you said you didn’t wanna go to my restaurant. but i was thinking we could just stop in so you could see it.”

“n-no, i do wanna go,” she asserts quickly, “i’d love to see it. i was just a little…embarrassed.”

he lets out a small chuckle at this.

“you don’t need to be. i’ll get us a private table and everything.” he nods, reaching over to rest a hand on her thigh. “no one will bother us.”

“yeah?” it sounds promising. 

“yeah, baby. i’ll take care of it.”

he pulls out his phone to make a call. 

it makes her stomach flutter a little bit.

when they arrive, she’s a bit taken aback by the bear. she already knew it was a nice place—though she wasn’t expecting the type of michelin star dining that leaves people speechless. 

they’re seated the moment they walk in, and escorted to a table near the back of the restaurant, slightly hidden by the thick foliage of a potted plant. 

carmen pulls her chair out for her, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek before sitting down across from her. 

“this is…it’s beautiful in here, carm.” 

“yeah?” he can’t help the boost her words give him, looking around a bit, “you think so?” 

“it’s incredible,” she nods, “i had no idea it would be so fancy.” 

he lets out a small chuckle at this, placing his hand atop hers. he goes to thank her, but is interrupted by the greeting of their waitress. 

the girl smiles in reply, feeling bad for the clearly nervous employee that has to serve the big boss. 

they order signature cocktails that cost so much the prices aren’t even listed on the menu. she supposes this follows the premise that if you have to ask for the price of something, you can’t afford it. it makes her grateful for her wallet left atop the nightstand. 

“what’s the first thing you’re gonna do when you’re back home?” he asks, taking a sip of the old fashioned he had ordered. it’s easier to talk about when he’s not thinking about how soon it’ll be a reality. 

“go to the beach,” she responds quietly, after a moment, “and get in the water. even if it’s freezing cold.” 

“yeah?” a smile forms on his face at the mental image. 

“yeah, i uh…like chicago. but i really do miss home. and i miss my friends.”  

“totally.” he gives her a knowing nod. 

“carmy, do you-” she sighs, fidgeting with her ring, “can i call you? when i’m back?” 

“you fuckin’ better.” he responds quickly. 

the girl smiles at the sternness of his response, and reaches out to touch his hand. 

“okay,” she nods, “good. cause i’m gonna miss you.” 

“yeah, it’s…it’s not gonna be easy.” understatement of the year. “it’ll work out though. i’ll come visit you or somethin’.” 

and despite the weight of the circumstances, she smiles at this, and brings his hand up to her lips, placing a slow, tender kiss to the side of it. just wanting to show her appreciation. “you’d like it, i think. it’s really different from here.”

“yeah?”

“mhm. and my friends would freak meeting you.”

“why’s that?” he raises his eyebrows. 

“cause i mean, look at you. i’d probably have to fight them off.” 

carmen lets out a soft laugh at this, shaking his head in disbelief. “y’know, i’ve thought the same thing about you? just wanna keep you to myself.” 

she smiles, and moves from kissing his hand to kissing his fingers. 

carmen rests his thumb on her cheek, tightening his jaw as she moves onto his middle finger. how she places another kiss, pressing her lips to him, holding his wrist gently and looking up at him through her eyelashes.

the sight is kind of erotic. 

“you, uh…” he clears his throat, shuffling forward in his seat, “you giving up on our game?” 

“no,” she has this innocent look on her face, like she doesn’t know exactly what she’s doing, “this is PG.” carmy feels the immense urge to shove his fingers in her mouth and make her suck. 

“nothing about that is… stop,” he grunts as she softly bites him. it’s clear that she’s trying to get him to fold. and she’s right on track so far. 

“fine. you’re no fun.” she pouts, releasing his hand and sitting straight. 

“i’m not gonna lose to you.” 

“yes you are,” she smiles, resting her chin in her hand. 

his eyes flicker down to the strain of her breasts against the neckline of the dress. maybe he is. 

“nah.” he shakes his head. “no way.”  

her gaze roams over him, and she bites at her lip. 

“well i might. you look so slutty in that suit.” 

“i-…what?” 

“you heard me.” 

“i look…slutty?” there’s a perplexed expression on his face. 

“super slutty. you’re so getting it when we’re home.” 

“jesus,” he exhales a laugh, averting his eyes from her face, “you drunk off that one cocktail?” 

“no!” she smiles, rolling her eyes. “i just thought you’d wanna know. i can't stop looking at you. you’re giving me dirty thoughts.” 

he meets her eyes again with a smile, and puts his hand flat on the table, reaching out for her. when she gives him her hand, he glances at the red nail polish adorning her fingers. 

“i, uh… i can't stop looking at you either.” he runs his thumb over her skin. “i’m…crazy about you. you know that, right?” 

“i know,” she purrs, softly raking her nails over his skin softly, looking at him through her eyelashes. 

it him feel a little feral. he takes a deep breath in through his nose. 

“so, you can give up on this stupid challenge already?” his tone is low. 

“no way,” she pouts, “i want my prize.”

“yeah?”

“yeah. and don’t forget this was your idea in the first place.” 

he goes to defend himself when he’s cut off by a familiar chuckle. 

“well, shit, welcome back!” 

the girl freezes, staring straight ahead at carmen. the voice is easily recognizable. she hesitantly turns her head to put the name to a face. 

“richie,” carmen greets unenthusiastically, giving him a small nod. 

“you just can’t get enough of us or what?” richie chuckles, glancing at the girl quickly. he does kind of a double take, snapping his head back to her with wide eyes. 

she sheepishly meets his gaze, trying to not crumble under the intense look he’s giving her. 

“this is, uh…” carmen narrows his eyes at the man, “this is my girlfriend, -” he introduces her name. 

richie blinks slowly, like he’s trying to process, repeating her name. testing how it feels in his mouth.

“uh, nice to-…nice to meet you. i’m richie.” he thrusts his hand forward. 

“nice to meet you, richie,” she smiles, giving him a gentle shake. this is the most intense eye contact she’s experienced in a while. the silence is tense, and he’s staring at her with this perplexed admiration. 

“you’re…wow,” richie chuckes, “do you have an older sister or something?” 

“jesus christ, richie! go fuck off back to the front you asshole,” carmen snaps, face growing slightly red. “hey, i’m sorry about him,” richie apologizes to the girl, “he forgets that this is a nice establishment where we don’t use crass language.” his eyebrows are raised as he smooths his jacket. 

she opens her mouth to respond, but carmy’s scolding cuts her off, snapping at the man to go do his job and “stop fucking around”. 

“hey, i just wanted to come introduce myself to your lovely date,” richie puts his hands up in defense, “can i get you anything else, sweetheart?” he asks the girl, “you want another one of those?” pointing to her cocktail. 

“maybe after dinner, thank you,” she responds politely. 

“ahh okay, i like the manners! you could teach your little boyfriend over here a thing or two.”

the man has a goofy charm about him, and although carmen is getting more irate by the second, she’s amused. 

“i’m trying. but he’s kind of stubborn.” her eyes flicker over to carmen, giving him a playful smile. his frown softens at this. 

“ha! don’t i know it! last week he-”

“richie,” carmy interrupts, “can you go check on our order?” 

“carm,” the girl groans. they didn’t place their order yet. he gives her a pleading look to just go along with it. 

and whether it’s the use of his nickname or the intonation of her voice, this look of recognition washes over richie’s face and his eyes widen. he looks at carmy, then back at her. a laugh bubbles out, and he slaps a hand over his mouth, clearing this throat. his face is red.

the girl almost dies of embarrassment on the spot, knowing exactly which dots are connecting in his head. 

“okay! yeah. well. nice meeting you. i’m just gonna…” he gestures behind him, backing away with a stifled grin on his face. 

when she looks back at carmen, his head is in his hand and his eyes are tightly shut. when richie is out of sight and he finally looks back up to her, there’s a pained looked on his face. 

“i’m-…jesus christ, i'm sorry about that.” he exhales. 

the girl feels dumbfounded by the situation, and doesn’t know what to say. 

she tries to keep it in, but bursts into giggles. there’s a brief look of surprise on the man’s face which forms into a small smile. he’s giving her the kind of bewildered look that says “i’m glad you found that funny because i was about 3 seconds away from getting physical”.

she rests her head in her hand, trying to take deep breaths and stop her laughing. it doesn’t really work. 

carmy’s expression of bewilderment softens and he begins to grin watching her. 

she finally gets control over herself and straightens, huge smile on her red face, wiping a stray tear from her eye with a big sigh. 

carmen thinks it’s probably the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. and there’s this sharp pain in his chest that feels like love but also like loss. like he’s discovered this secret to life that’s about to be stolen and never given back. 

his thoughts are interrupted by their waitress setting plates down in front of them. she introduces the dish, and tells them that chef sydney plated it specially for them. 

the girl has a big smile on her face, as she raves about how nice everything is, but carmy can’t help but feel a bit sad for the rest of the night. 

-

they return home hand in hand. the chill november air smells crisp like winter. leaves in the gutters rustle with the gentle breeze. 

as they walk from the car, she wraps her arm around his and leans in, resting her head on him for a moment. 

he turns his head and smiles at her. 

“i don’t know if i ever told you this…but uh,” he glances over her face, “you’re really beautiful.” 

“thank you, carmy” her soft smile grows, “i think you have told me.” 

“not enough.” he’s kind of in a trance, pace slowing as he watches her face. she giggles and pulls him forward to the entrance. 

the doorman of their building lets the two in, giving a small smile watching the young lovers laugh, that gleam of infatuation shining bright over their faces. 

as the elevator doors close, and she turns to face him, their laughs slowly cease. they stare at each other intently. 

“stop doin’ that” he mutters lowly.

“doing what?” 

“you keep looking at my lips.” 

“i really want to kiss you.” she bites at her lip, eyes fluttering as she keeps staring. 

carmy exhales harshly at this, clenching his fists to keep his hands to himself. 

she leans forward, bringing her face closer to his. he smells so fucking good, looks so handsome in his suit, she’s tempted to just tear him apart with her teeth. 

“do it,” he challenges quietly, their lips so close. 

she almost gives up on the challenge, leaning just a little closer, then-

ding

saved by the bell, literally. the elevator doors open to their floor. 

she gasps softly at the noise, pulling away from him, face feeling hot, core tingling. 

she had complained earlier, but this challenge is fun.

they hurriedly make their way to the door of their unit. 

the girl stumbles in her heels and almost face plants, but carmy catches her, wrapping an arm around her waist and preventing her from falling. 

without warning, he hoists her up, trying to throw her over his shoulder. 

“carmy!” she yelps, “put me down!” secretly hoping he doesn’t. 

he hoists her up some more, and she folds over his shoulder, dangling upside down, laughing harder than  she has in a long time.  

“you’re too clumsy,” he teases, hand securely gripping onto the back of her thigh, walking them the last 20 feet to their door. with his free hand he retrieves his keys, unlocks the door and nudges it open. 

he only puts her down once the door is closed behind him, and she wobbles on her feet when he does so, gripping onto his arms for stability. 

her face is rosy from the blood rushing to her head, and she has a girlish smile on her face as she looks up at him. 

“you’re strong.” 

he just smiles softly, gazing down at her. 

“can you make me another one of those moscow mules?” 

“yes, chef!” she returns, kicking off her heels and walking towards the kitchen. 

he runs a hand through his hair, sighing longingly, and follows, sitting on one of the barstools opposite the counter where she stands. 

“put on some music?” she asks softly, turning on the kitchen speaker. 

“what do you want me to play?” he opens his bluetooth and connects. 

“i dunno. something romantic.” the girl has a sweet smile on her face, measuring out the vodka for his drink. 

he shuffles an oldies playlist—the songs from the 1940s/1950s that sound like real love. like loving and being loved unconditionally. like settling down and coming home to each other every day.  

“good choice,” she compliments, cracking open a ginger beer. “i love this kind of music.” a frank sinatra song plays softly. 

“me too. it’s kind of nostalgic.” he thinks of the old black and white movies he would watch with his mom.  

“here,” she hands him the cold drink, garnished with mint and lime. 

“thank you,” he has a small smile on his face, taking a sip. it’s bubbly and refreshing. 

she clicks the speaker up a few notches, and hums along, putting away all of the drink materials. 

carmen loves the sound of it. 

the girl saunters over to him and perches herself on his lap, hand circling behind his neck. 

his arm wraps around her back as she steals his drink to take a sip. 

“good, huh?” he praises, dragging his thumb along the fabric of her dress. 

“it’s okay,” she sets the cup down, “not as good as the michelin star cocktail i had earlier.” 

“i disagree.” 

“oh really?” she has this smile of disbelief. 

“mhm. this could be award winning, easily.” 

“you’re just saying that.” 

“no. m’serious.” his hand rests on her knee, and he rubs it along her leg softly. 

she just smiles at this, and leans in to pepper kisses along his cheek and jaw. the first song fades into the next. 

“wanna dance?” she smiles against his skin.

“dance?” 

“yeah. slow dance with me.”

“i, uh… i don’t know how.” 

“what do you mean you don’t know how?” she giggles, standing up from his lap. “come here.”

he slowly joins her in the living room, a bashful expression on his face. he’s never been able to dance. it’s always made him feel stupid. but even so, he approaches. 

this love of mine goes on and on. 

she takes his hand and gently puts one on her waist, holding the other. she loops her other arm around his neck. carmy finds his nerves are almost immediately eased. 

they sway gently. the light is low and an ella fitzgerald song resonates through the room. it’s slow, and kind of sad. but still romantic. 

though life is empty since you’ve been gone.

carmen closes his eyes and rests his forehead on hers, suddenly feeling overwhelmingly sentimental.

his arms wrap around her further, and he pulls her closer. the music has an old fashioned grainy sound to it that makes it sound sweet. 

she leans in to kiss his neck, chest pressed flush against his. she feels a surge of warmth throughout her chest. feeling grateful. relishing the moment. resting her head against him. 

the two just sway gently, taking light steps ever so often. 

it almost felt as if they were playing pretend—both dressed in their nicest clothes, tipsy off of $20 cocktails, swaying to the romantic music. pretending the end isn’t in sight. 

i ask the sun and the moon. the stars that shine. 

he pulls back to get another look at her face. tries to ignore the way his throat tightens. 

what’s to become of it, this love of mine?

the girl’s gaze is longingly fixed on his handsome face. 

“i really did have a wonderful time tonight,” she whispers.

he gives her a smile, but it looks kind of sad. 

“i’m glad.” 

“i don’t really know how to say this, but…” she drops his hand and wraps both arms around his neck, getting a bit closer, “i…i’m really happy i met you.” 

he releases the breath he didn’t realize he was holding, eyes flickering over her face. he really wants to kiss her. 

“i-…you know i’m never gonna be able to stop thinking about you?” 

“i know, carm. i won’t either.” she hates how sad he looks. “but it’ll get easier, yeah?”

“yeah.” it’s gotta be the biggest lie he’s ever told someone.  

“i love you, you know?” her confession comes as a whisper. 

“i know, baby,” his tone is low, and he tightens his grip on her hips, like he’s afraid of her disappearing, “i love you too.”

what’s to become of it, this love of mine?

the song fades out slowly, and for some reason the music stops all together. the silence is thick, and the two lovers stare at each other with a palpable tension. 

her eyes dart down to his lips.

“i um…i think i give up.” she whispers. 

his brows furrow. before he can ask her what she means, the girl leans in and presses a firm, sweet kiss to his lips. and as innocent as the gesture is, it makes the air feel hot. makes it feel heavy. gives him goosebumps all over his arms. makes him groan.

almost instantly, carmen grabs the back of her head and pulls her against his lips, desperate to get more. he really does try to match her slow pace but he just needs it. he slips his tongue into her mouth, not even realizing how bad he needs it until he tastes her. 

the girl reciprocates for a moment, a small smile forming at the unexpected ferocity. her hands come to his chest and she eases herself away from him, feeling him chase her lips. 

“slow down,” she teases, helping to alleviate some of his hunger with a gentle kiss, a small grin on her face. 

she’s really good at using his words against him, he thinks to himself. 

“you look pretty,” the girl says in a low tone, eyes raking over the lipstick she’s left smudged over his pouty, swollen lips. slutty is probably the more accurate term. 

“pr-…what?” his brain stutters. 

the girl swipes her thumb over his lips and shows him the red stain, before leaning forward to pepper gentle kisses along his cheek, jaw, down to his neck. 

it surprises carmen when she keeps moving downwards, threading her fingers into his tie and loosening the knot, kissing and nipping at every inch of skin she can find. she moves eagerly, but gently—really savoring the way he tenses and shudders from the light touches. this time feeling as if she holds the power. 

the girl drops to her knees, smiling up at his look of wide-eyed shock as she fumbles with the buckle of his belt. 

“w-what are you doing?” he rasps, clearing his throat. 

“what do you mean?” she’s looking up at him innocently, slowly undoing his button and zipper.

“you, uh…you don’t have to.” he’s fixated on how pretty she looks down on her knees for him, “i know we made that bet, but if you don’t want to,-”

she pulls his briefs down to expose his cock and cuts him off with a breathy moan. it springs from confinement, tip red and throbbing. the sight alone is enough to send heat pooling between her legs, and she hungrily dives forward to lick a single stripe up the side of it. 

carmen lets out a low groan, still surprised by how enthusiastically she dove to her knees—her droopy eyes, the satisfied grin on her face looking up at him—it’s as if she didn’t even care about the challenge. like it’s prize enough just to please him. 

the girl softly grips his cock, leaning in and planting kisses teasingly along the length of it. making her way to the tip. it twitches in her hand. she flattens her tongue against the head of his cock and just pauses there for a second, looking up at his twisted brows and red cheeks with an amused expression. trying to gauge him. 

carmen intently watches her—pink tongue, manicured nails, looking up at him through her lashes. he lets out a guttural groan when she swirls her tongue around the head of his cock. 

the girl takes a breath and dives forward to take him into her mouth. 

“jesus.” his hand comes to card through her hair, pushing it out of her way as she hungrily takes him in. 

he’s thick and heavy in her mouth. she gives a few bobs of her head, coating him in her saliva, trying to find what makes him tick. tasting his distinct flavor and pressing her thighs together to try and chase some relief. 

“fuck, that’s-,” he exhales sharply as she moves her head up and down the length of his shaft, saliva coating his skin, beginning to stick to his pubic hair, “that’s good. keep doin’ that.” it’s more of a plea than a command. 

she doesn’t, though, instead easing her mouth from his cock, watching as a string of spit connects them as she pulls back with a soft giggle. 

he knows he’s completely fucked for her when his erection twitches at the noise. he rakes his eyes over her flushed face and chest. the way her lipstick is smudged across her spit-glossed lips. 

“keep doing what?” she asks teasingly.

“you-…stop fuckin’ playing with me,” he rasps exasperatedly. 

the girl smiles at his tone, and leans forward to give gentle kitten-like licks over his throbbing head. 

“m’not-” a kiss, “playing with you, carmy,” another kiss, “i’m just…enjoying myself.” she gently jerks the length of him, opening her mouth, bumping him against her tongue with every few strokes. she finds herself getting aroused trying to push his buttons like this. 

“you’re-mmh…you’re gonna fuckin’ get it if you don’t stop.” 

“you want me to stop?” she asks sweetly, “okay.” she drops her hand and sits back on her heels, watching as his erection bobs up and down. 

carmen’s gaze darkens, jaw clenched. 

“you-…” he scoffs, “i can see right through what you’re doing.”

“oh yeah?” she tests, “what am i doing?” 

“you’re trying to get me to get rough with you.”

bingo. she kind of wants a face fucking. 

“no i’m not.” the girl bites at her lip unconvincingly. 

“yes you are. and i'm not going to.” 

“wha-why?” she pouts, scooting closer to him. his cock brushes against her cheek. 

“not like this. i don’t wanna hurt you.” he reaches forward to brush a piece of hair behind her ear, letting his hand trail over her face. 

“you won’t,” she whines, eyes darting between his face and his raging erection. it’s big, so maybe he will. but she doesn’t care. “i can take it.” 

“you like to argue,” he grumbles, taking ahold of her face, squeezing her cheeks together slightly. she looks so cute like this. 

“carm,” she whines, “i can take it. promise i can. please?” 

carmen releases her face, trailing his hand behind her head and gripping her hair. with his other hand he fists his cock and gently eases it forward, rubbing the tip against her slick, pouty lips. 

“open,” his tone is low, and he slowly pushes himself into her mouth when she complies. he goes until he feels restriction, and pulls back. 

the girl lets out a sound of disagreement at this. 

“hey.” carmen chides firmly, “you’re gonna take what i fuckin’ give you.” he watches the way her eyelids flutter at his stern tone. the way she shifts her body overtop her heel.

the girl lets a sigh out through her nose and tries to exercise patience as the man slowly rocks his hips forward and back, never breaching the halfway point. remaining gentle and delicate in his motion. 

when she tries to sink her mouth further forward, he grips her hair and harshly tugs her back. her yelp is muffled around his cock. 

“what, baby? that hurt?” his tone has a mocking edge to it. “thought y’said you could handle it.” he pulls himself out of her mouth so she can respond. 

“i can.” her voice trembles. face is red hot. panties soaked with slick. 

“yeah?” he slaps his cock against her cheek, “gonna be a tough girl for me?” 

“yes,” she pleads, eyes fixated on him, enthusiastically embracing his shift of dominance.  

to her surprise, carmen steps away from her. he’s giving her this look as if he’s about to devour her. silence, for a moment. like he’s thinking. 

“take off your dress.” 

she blinks, processing the request for a moment. after she shoots up and undoes her zipper, she hastily shoves the fabric down her body, letting it pool around her ankles before stepping out. and by the time she’s about to get back on her knees, carmen’s own clothes are on the floor next to hers. 

the man graciously rakes his eyes over her nude body, thanking each and every saint he could think of. grabbing her and pulling her in for a frantic kiss before she can sink back down to her knees. he can taste the fruity remnants of lime and mint on her lips from the cocktail she had at the restaurant. 

the girl eagerly accepts his kiss, slipping her tongue into his mouth, swallowing the small groan he releases. 

“wanna taste you again,” she pleads in between kisses. 

“yeah?” he bites at her lip.

“y-eah,” she gasps, surprised at how firmly he had nipped her. 

carmen pulls away with a final kiss, moving to sit on the couch. he spreads his knees apart and locks eyes with the girl, a silent beckon to come. 

she obeys, of course, and sinks down to the floor in between his legs, resting her hands atop his strong thighs. it’s only moments before she’s eagerly diving forward to take him into her mouth again. 

carmy just watches her, savoring the moment. savoring how her tongue swirls around him and how she keeps going lower and lower. how her face gets redder and how she stares up at him with blown pupils. it’s surreal—almost dreamlike. 

he gathers her hair in a haphazard ponytail, using his grip to push her a little further down. make her move a little faster. he can tell she likes it, too, by the way her moans vibrate around his cock. 

carmen pulls her back by her hair, forcing her to take a breather. his eyes rake over her flushed cheeks and pouty lips. she looks like a little doll, and the juxtaposition of her pretty face with the filthy position drives him fucking crazy. 

“stick your tongue out,” he tells her gruffly. 

and she does, showing him her tongue and gazing up at him through her lashes. 

carmy takes a firm hold of her face with his free hand and spits into her mouth. then eases his cock back inside. 

it’s enough to make her want to cum on the spot. 

the girl takes him in deeper than she had yet, almost hitting the back of her throat. and despite her gag, she continues to enthusiastically bob her head, desperate for more. 

it’s so enjoyable, in fact, that she trails her hand down between her legs, beginning to circle her swollen clit just to alleviate some of the heat she felt. and it feels so fucking good just to have that added touch that her body goes a little limp, jaw goes slack. 

she gives carmen complete control of her movements, tethered to him by the tight fist wrapped around her hair—consciously focusing on relaxing her throat as tears brim her eyes. 

“jesus christ, that’s good, baby.” he shifts forward, filling her mouth with more of his length. watches in mild enjoyment as she gags around him. 

“just relax,” he soothes, moving his free hand to caress her face, dragging her back by her hair. 

the girl takes a sharp breath in as soon as she can, tears beginning to slip down her cheeks. her fingers are drenched with slick arousal, staring carmy in the eyes, lips parted as continues to eagerly rub circles over her clit. 

“fuck me,” he strains, watching her play with herself, unaware of her desperation until that moment. the sight looks like it’s straight out of a porno. “you having fun down there?”

she nods her head eagerly, wiping some saliva from her chin with the back of her hand, leaning forward to try and take him back into her mouth. 

carmen gives her hair a little tug, keeping her in place. 

she glances up to give him a questioning look.

“come give me a taste.” his eyes glance down to her lips. 

a small smile forms on her face as she processes his request. she gingerly leans forward, careful to not earn another tug, and licks a long stripe up his cock. 

carmy loosens the grip on her hair as she goes to stand up, enthusiastically accepting her tongue into his mouth to taste himself. 

there’s something about the ferocity of the kiss that makes him feel like he’s on the verge of finishing all over his stomach. he takes deep breaths trying to push the feeling away. and that’s before he feels the wet heat of her pussy rubbing against the tip his length. 

the girl finds herself so desperate for release she begins to rock against his erection, letting it glide through her wet folds, gauging his reaction to see if he’ll stop her. 

and he doesn’t, instead groaning into her mouth and grabbing her ass. 

so the girl positions her wet hole over his cock, and slowly begins to sink down, letting out a gasp at the stretch. 

“fuck,” the two chant in tandem, hers as a whimper and his as more of a gruff exhale. 

carmen marvels about how perfect the stretch of her wet hot cunt feels around him as she eases herself down until she’s flush with his lap. 

they just stare at each other for a second in this feral, pupils-blown kind of frenzy, mouths both agape at the sensation of his cock nudged so deeply within her. how she’s not even moving and it’s just so hot and wet and deep and fucking good. 

carmen’s hand sides up her back, thumb pressing into the dip of her spine. his face is hot and his cock is throbbing and his mouth moves faster than his mind can.

“m’keeping you here with me,” he almost growls, pressing his fingers into her skin, eyes locked on hers. doesn’t miss the way she flinches a little at the words. 

the girl grips the sides of his face, and leans forward, pressing her forehead against his, closing her eyes and shakily exhaling as she rocks her hips back and forth against him. 

carmy says her name. it comes out strained. his hands grab her ass and he pulls and pushes her, intensifying the gentle rocking motion. 

the girl presses her lips to his, hoping to quiet him with a kiss. hoping to forget about it and just enjoy the moment. but she feels him call her name again, this time against her lips. the girl begins to softly bounce herself on his lap, jostling his length inside of her. 

“hey,” he exhales in between her eager kisses. “i didn’t mean-” another kiss, “-you just feel so good and i-”

“carmy,” she whispers softly against his lips, “be quiet baby. just-mmh… let’s just enjoy it.” 

carmen groans into her mouth as she rocks her hips against his again, hand coming to the small of her back. and it’s definitely enjoyable. it’s just hard to not think about it ending. to not plead with her for just a little more. 

the girl takes his scrunched face and nod as a gesture to keep going, so she shuffles her knees in a bit and begins slowly riding him. one hand touches his firm chest, the other trailing her kisses from his jaw to his neck. 

“jesus christ,” is what slips from his mouth, as he feels her gentle bites, allowing himself to relinquish that control he holds so dearly, for just a moment.

when she pulls back from his neck, her face and chest are flushed, nipples perked, and she’s pushing her breasts out trying to get him to look.

but his eyes just remain fixed on hers, like he’s trying to memorize her blown pupils and color of her irises. 

“is it okay?” she asks breathily as she keeps rocking her hips, feeling unexpectedly nervous under his intense gaze. 

“you’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he mutters immedietly, as if he doesn’t entirely process her question. 

and even though they were this far along, the girl finds herself feeling shy at his sincerity. she goes to deflect as she usually does to compliments that fluster her. 

“n-no, i-”

“-you are. my pretty fuckin’ girl. never gonna let you outta my sight,” he almost growls. 

and by this point her body is hot and her pussy is throbbing and she’s finding the words that come out of his mouth so incredibly tempting. the implications less serious under the blanket of lust. so her lips part in a moan and she presses her hand to his chest and begins to ride faster, easing off then re-impaling herself on his cock. his hands come up to cup her breasts, ghosting thumbs over her nipples. 

“yes, carm.”

“yeah?” 

“mhm. love how you touch me.” 

she shuffles her feet under her knees, angling herself to be able to bounce a bit more comfortably. 

“you feel so-fuck… so good, you know that?” carmen grits, face scrunching at the new sensation.  

her stomach flutters at his praise, eyes raking down his form beneath her. his flushed skin. the way the muscle of his shoulder bulges out a little as he’s grabbing her like his life depends on it. 

“feels so big,” she whisper-cries.

“yeah? is it too much?” 

“n-no. so good. m’so full.”

his eyes glance down to where their bodies are connected. watches her ride him for a moment. groans at the way she becomes nearly all the way flush with his hips. 

“so good at that,” he grits, mesmerized by the way her sticky arousal clings to his pubic hair. “take me so good. you like feelin’ full, huh?” 

her mouth just falls open in response, eyes screwing shut as she feels him reach forward to circle her clit. the added pleasure only spurs her on, beginning to eagerly ride him, breasts bouncing in front of his face. 

“holy shit,” she cries, surprised how easily she feels her orgasm building, nails leaving crescents on the skin of his shoulder. 

“you close already, baby?” he whispers with a small, knowing grin on his face. “m’barely touching you.”

she just moans in response, unable to open her eyes, bucking her hips more wildly by the second, movements becoming sloppier, needier. 

“just keep-ah…just stay right there,” she pleads, savoring his slick, feather-light touches to her clit, feeling tears well up in her eyes. 

“right there?” carmen eases his fingers back slightly at the sight of her tears, and it’s just enough pressure to keep her on edge. 

“y-yeah, i’m…just please-” she cries pathetically, breaths becoming frantic, a static feeling tingling through her body. “please, carmy, m’gonna cum. just a little more.” 

and he can’t help but just marvel at her. the twisted expression of pleasure on her face. the stray tear that slips down her cheek. it’s probably the most erotic thing he’s ever seen. 

as a thank you for the next year of jerk-off material, he lets her have just a little more. watches with enjoyment as she finally comes unraveled with this loud, primal cry. feels the sting of her nails against his chest and bicep. 

the man holds her hip with his free hand, thrusting up into her as her movement falters and she slumps forward. 

“carm, i-” she gasps, body becoming overstimulated, thighs trembling.

“i got you, baby. i got you.” 

“it’s-ah!”

“one more second, pretty girl, m’almost done. can you hold on for me?” 

“y-yeah,” she cries, desperately grabbing onto him for dear life. there’s this overwhelming heat surging through her body. her lips feel numb and tingly. but she holds on and takes it like a big girl. 

“you’re fuckin’ gripping me.” he strains, eyebrows twisted up in pleasure.

the girl isn’t able to respond through her jagged breathing, instead leaning forward to hungrily kiss him again.

“y’gonna have to move in a sec,” carmen warns, gripping her hips with bruising force. 

“no,” she begins to move her hips against him, meeting his thrusts halfway.

carmy groans, eyes nearly rolling back into his head. “what do you mean no?” he strains. 

“want it in me.” 

“jesus, fu-” he exasperatedly exhales, “can’t baby. you know i can’t.” 

they lock eyes, pupils blown. 

“please. wanna feel it.” her plead comes in between desperate breaths. 

“what, you want a baby or something?” the man asks her, partially in disbelief and partially in a fiery haze of lust. 

“yes-!” she gasps. and even though a baby is probably the last thing she wants, there’s this inexplicable urge that overtakes. that revels in the idea of being linked with him forever. 

“yeah?” he’s shocked by her answer, but not dissuaded, “you want me to put a baby in you?” 

“yeah, carm. want your baby. wanna stay here with you.” the girl finds herself coming up on a second orgasm, relishing the way his cock perfectly nudges against her g-spot. 

“fuckk,” he groans, face growing hot at her words, “you want that? really?” studying her expression for any trace of hesitation. finding none. “cause i’ll give it to you.” and he’s dead serious. he’ll buy a ring for her tomorrow if she wants it, he thinks to himself. 

“yes, i want it,” she cries, “cum in me, please.”

and between the desperation of her plead and her breasts bouncing right in his face, it takes him about 5 more seconds before he erupts. 

his cock twitches, body stiffens and he lets out a guttural moan, grabbing onto her hips with a bruising force. 

and the feeling of his hot cum inside of her is enough for the girl to fall over the edge for a second time, tear-soaked eyes rolling back into her head, a whitehot bliss surging through her body. 

the two lovers are overcome with the sensation, sexes pulsing rhythmically in sync, graciously sharing orgasms with each other. 

carmen’s eyes are scrunched shut, brows furrowed and lips parted. 

the girl’s head falls to his shoulder, shakily breathing through the feeling. trying to come back down to earth. 

they just stay there for a moment, panting. recovering. 

she finds that she can hear his heartbeat. zones into the rhythm. listens as it gradually slows.

carmy wraps his arms around her and nuzzles his face into her hair, breathing in the scent of her shampoo. 

when she finally pulls back after a few minutes, she plants a gentle kiss to his lips. 

“you good?” he asks against her mouth. 

“so good.” and so full and so warm. she never wants to move. 

but like all good things, they must come to an end. so the girl begins to slowly ease herself off his cock. and suddenly realizes what just happened. 

“oh shit.” 

“what?” carmen opens his eyes. watches as his cum slowly drips out of her. tries to take a mental picture. 

but the girl quickly reaches over to grab a tissue off the coffee table, frantically wiping away the surplus of the stickiness leaking from her core. 

“why didn’t you pull out?” her tone grows a bit frantic. 

“wha-cause you fuckin’ begged me not to.” he shakes his head, trying to comprehend her question. 

“i-…” she stutters, exhaling, “fuck, carmy, i’m not on birth control!” 

he has this perplexed expression on his face, blinking slowly and trying to rationalize her response. “you…did you not want me to? m sorry, i-”

“-no, i know i told you to. i just-…i got caught up in the moment i guess.” between the release of her orgasm and the weight of her previous request, the girl finds herself fighting the urge to cry. 

carmen must seem to notice this, because his hardened expression softens a bit. he quickly tries to think of something comforting to say. 

“want me to take you to get a plan b?” 

nice, carmy, he thinks to himself. he’s never been good at responding fast under pressure.

“yeah.” her response comes as a whisper. comes with a single tear. she turns her head away from him and embarrassedly tries to wipe it away. 

“hey,” he says tenderly, going to hold the side of her face, turning her back to face him. just studies her face for a moment with furrowed brows, trying to think of what to say. “you…you know i’d support you, right? if you…whatever you decide.”

“really?” it’s hard for her to believe him. 

“yes, really.”

“you’d want a baby?”

“if that’s what you want.” he has the most genuine expression on his face, eyes locked with hers. he watches another tear roll down her cheek and adds, “seriously. i’m all in.”

she’s shocked by his sincerity. it doesn’t make anything easier, either. just makes everything feel more confusing. 

“i’m…carmy, i can’t.” her words come out as a kind of sob. 

“that’s okay.” he reassures wholeheartedly. he doesn’t know why he feels just a little disappointed. 

“but i want to.” the girl plants her hands on his bare chest. “it’s just…you’re older than me. you’re ready for that kind of thing. i’m…such a mess, i can’t even imagine being a mom yet.” it comes out choked, the tears just keep falling. 

“i get it.” he nods. “really. you don’t have to explain yourself.” he rubs circles with his thumb along her hip. “i just wanted you to know. it’s your choice.”

“you’d wanna have a baby with me?” she wipes at her cheek. 

“yeah.” he nods, brows furrowed. “of course i would.” 

and just for a moment, the girl lets herself fantasize. lets her brain entertain the thought of having a family with him. of just leaving everything in california and starting new. of being so selfish and doing what she wants, just this one time. 

the thought is so tempting she finds it hard to distance herself from. to rationalize. 

she wouldn’t be a good mom. a good wife. not right now. she still has so much to learn about herself. so much to still figure out. 

after a moment, she finally speaks. 

“can you take me to cvs?” 

carmen nods, and reaches up to wipe the last of her tears away. 

he ignores the gnawing feeling of loss. has to remind himself it’s the loss of a fantasy. 

the loss of something that never existed. 

-

“fuck me.” she drops her bag to the ground, frantically opening pockets and unzipping zippers. “carm, i think i left my passport on the-“ 

“-no you didn’t.” he fishes in his back pocket for the booklet and hands it over. “here.”

the girl lets out a sigh of relief, staring up at the man with this perplexed, amazed expression. 

“thank you.” it comes out in a sort of whisper, and when she goes to take it from him, their fingers brush against each other. 

“you, uh…you only got an hour left.” he runs his hand through his messy hair. “y’should probably go find your gate.” 

“yeah.” she stands. her bag remains on the ground. “okay.” 

the two just stare at each other for a minute, locked in this trance-like state. 

“you know, i-”

“-do you think we-” 

their words overlap. 

“i’m sorry, you go-”

“-no, go ahead.” carmen nods, a small smile on his face. 

she takes a deep breath, piecing together what she even wants to say. 

“just…thank you. for everything. and i’m gonna miss you.” her words don’t do it justice. there’s so much more she wants to say. 

he nods, swallowing harshly. his fingers fumble for the piece of paper folded up in his pocket. 

“i, uh…listen. i know you’re gonna be busy, and…want to focus on other things, which i get. but, uh…i was thinking, if you wanted…no pressure…uh,”

“what is that?” she interrupts, curiosity getting to the better of her, pointing to the folded up paper he holds. 

“it’s uh…it’s a plane ticket. well, a voucher.” he hurriedly explains, “from LAX to ORD. i was thinking if you ever had a weekend free or something…” he trails off, trying to gauge her reaction. hoping he’s not overstepping. 

she takes deep breaths—having promised herself earlier that she wouldn’t cry. but the moment she goes to open her mouth to speak, a sob comes out. she claps her hand over her mouth. closes her eyes as she feels carmen’s arms instantly wrap around her. 

“hey,” he soothes, kissing the side of her head. “c’mon, don’t cry. you’re gonna make me cry.” his voice wobbles a bit.

the girl burrows her face into his chest, staining his shirt with tears. 

“i don’t wanna go-!” she cries, clinging onto him as if her life depends on it. 

“i know.” he nuzzles his nose into her hair. “i know, pretty girl. it’s gonna be okay.” his throat burns. face feels hot. and as much as he hates it, tears brim at his eyes. he told himself he wasn’t going to cry. 

and so they just stand there, holding each other. ignoring the shuffle of the crowd around them as people queue into the security line. 

ignoring the grainy announcements over the pa system. 

ignoring the fact that it would’ve been so much less painful had they never gone so far. 

for a moment, it feels like the world around them stops. the passage of time, the priority of leaving, all of it. 

just for a moment. like they’re back in the living room and ella fitzgerald is playing. 

“don’t forget about me,” she pleads into the fabric of his jacket. 

“i don’t think i could if i tried.”

at this, she places a soft kiss onto his neck. “i’ll miss you.”

“me too,” carmen chokes out, grabbing at her waist, her hips, trying to memorize the feeling of her body against his. 

and as the girl slowly tries to pull away, he holds her a little tighter, trying to turn his head so she doesn’t see him cry. 

“carmy,” she whispers soothingly, reaching up to wipe a tear from his face. 

“just, uh…call me when you land, yeah?” he brushes the gesture off, feeling all too vulnerable under her sympathetic gaze. 

“okay.” she rubs his cheek. 

“alright. i guess you should go get in line, then.” he goes to step back. 

“wait.”

the girl pulls his face in and presses one last kiss to his lips. it feels like they lock together. like the perfect fit.

and carmen just melts into the feeling, letting out the smallest of groans into her mouth. it’s her taste, her smell, everything. for a split second he debates giving up on his dreams. selling the restaurant and following her to california. raising babies and laying in the sand and swimming in the ocean no matter how cold it is. 

she slowly steps back, leaving him wanting just a little more. 

“i love you.” she softly reminds him, holding his hand. 

he nods, pressing his lips together and looking away from her. feeling so stupid for the tears that burn his eyes. 

“i love you too.” 

the girl takes another step back, letting her hand fall from his. picking up her bag and giving him one last good look. imprinting into her mind his messy curls and handsome face. 

and it feels like there’s nothing left to say, really. 

so she turns and walks away from him. towards the security checkpoint doors. taking deep breaths and wiping at her cheeks. she’s about to push through the doors.

don’t look back. do not look back. 

she turns to look back at him. and he’s still there, standing in the same place she’d left him. his hands are in his pockets. jaw is clenched. just watching her with this look on his face that makes her want to dive into his arms and tell him she’ll stay. 

the girl raises her hand. gives him a small wave. he returns the gesture with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. 

and with that, she pushes through the doors. 

in a way, it feels like she’s leaving home. not returning home. 

for the entire flight, she stares out the window in complete silence. thinking about the last few months. biting back more tears with every new thought. 

she gets back to san diego around 6 in the evening. takes a taxi to the beach that’s a mile from her house. 

sends carmy a picture of the waves rolling in, the sky stained a pinkish orange. 

within a few minutes, she receives a heart on the photo. 

he doesn’t send anything else. 

it does feel good to be home. the girl has to continually remind herself of this over the next few weeks. it feels familiar. feels safe. 

but along with the joy of being back home, there’s this underlying feeling of grief. a gnawing in her chest whenever she lays her head down at night. 

she feels haunted by carmen, in a way. 

her brain plays cruel tricks on her—mistaking any white man with curly brown hair at the supermarket for him just for a split second. 

stalking his instagram. his restaurant’s instagram. his restaurant’s employee’s instagrams. trying to keep up with him. 

she doesn’t call him. doesn’t text. 

and carmy doesn’t either. 

she opens their message thread ever so often just to make sure she didn’t miss his notification. types out messages and deletes them and stares at the heart he’d left on her picture. 

she convinces herself that if he wanted to call her, he would’ve. takes his silence as a message. 

on christmas day she has one cranberry cocktail too many and finally gives in. navigates to her contacts and presses on the phone icon next to his name. 

and the line rings. and rings. and rings. and right before she’s about to hang up and drown herself in more cranberry cocktails, the line picks up. 

“hey,” comes carmen’s voice through the phone. it’s so good to hear that the girl blanks out for a minute, not even sure of what to say. “hello?” he asks into the silence. 

“fuck you,” she blurts out, clapping a hand over her mouth as soon as the words leave. it was just the first thing that came to mind. 

after a stunned silence, she hears him give a surprised chuckle, followed by a “merry christmas to you too.” carmen grabs his jacket and opens the door of his mom’s house, stepping out into the cold, snowy night. 

“you never called me.” 

“i, um…i didn’t think you wanted me to,” the man responds truthfully, “you never responded.” 

what? he never sent anything to respond to. 

“respond to-…” she scoffs, “what, you ‘liking’ my message?” 

“yeah,” he feels a little embarrassed hearing it out loud, “yeah, i guess i can see what you mean. i, uh…sorry. i was actually just thinking about you.” 

his admission sends butterflies through her stomach. she rolls her eyes at the feeling. 

“yeah, well merry christmas. and i hope you get coal.” her face feels hot. “and i miss you.” the last part spills out without her permission. 

he gives her another soft laugh. 

“yeah, i deserve coal. and i…i miss you so fucking much,” he admits, watching his breath freeze in the air in front of him, “you still liking it out there?”

“it’s alright.” her response comes softly. she plays with a loose thread on her sweater. 

“yeah? your mom doing okay?” 

“i guess. as okay as she can. is yours?” 

carmen exhales, half humorous, half exasperation. “yeah. as okay as she can.” he had been called a bitch more times than he could count tonight, actually. but he keeps it light. 

the girl just hums in agreement at this, and a brief silence settles between them. he’s the one to eventually break it. 

“you, uh…you think about coming out anytime soon?” god, he wishes he had a cigarette. “still got your room empty.”

“yeah, i have.” it’s all she’s been thinking about. but she tries to stay nonchalant. “maybe after new years.” 

“great, yeah.” his heart pounds a little faster at her words. “no pressure, just…yeah. i’d love to see you.”

“okay. i’ll um…i’ll let you know,” she tells him softly, feeling an overwhelming urge to cry. 

“okay.”

“merry christmas, carmy.”

“merry christmas.” he shuffles from side to side. “stay in touch, yeah? it was really good to hear from you.”

“yeah, i will. you too. goodnight.”

“wait, i uh-” he wants to tell her he loves her. 

“hm?” she puts the phone back up to her ear. 

“just, um…take care of yourself, yeah?” he can’t seem to muster up the courage.

“i will.” 

“okay. good.”

“i…i’m gonna feel stupid for saying this, but i love you, carm.” 

he gets this feeling of relief and pain all in one. “i love you too.” so much. “thanks for callin’.”

“goodnight.”

“yeah, night.” 

the line disconnects. and it feels better than before. 

hurts still, yes. 

but better. 

the girl finds herself staring at the ceiling that night, just thinking. about her family, her career. about carmen. finds solace in the way that gnawing feeling is replaced by a fluttering. a hopefulness. 

and what is love, if not unconditional and everlasting? 

she drifts off to sleep with warm cheeks and the image of his goofy smile at the forefront of her mind. 

-

a/n: ow. 

really hope you enjoyed this series :) these two i hold so near & dear to my heart and i thoroughly enjoyed watching this story fold out along with you. thank you all so much for your patience with the process & for your kind words!!! xoxox

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 4 part 4

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7])

agatha once again protecting billy with her whole body.

"I didn't think it was real! I thought it was me, that it's my fault that I can't keep a job, that everything I touch turns to shit! That I couldn't save her!"

The poison drips through (yes I love Succession). Generational curse, generational trauma. The pain of who knows how many centuries of parents and grandparents and great-grandparents times a thousand. It's like a boulder that you're carrying around on your shoulders, and you can't see it and you can't put a name to it, how could you? How can you possibly know why your mother drank herself stupid, why your grandmother abused her children? You were born yesterday and drank all that poison without knowing what it was, you let it take it over and you walk around spreading it to the world.

And amidst all the pain, alice only ever chose to blame and hurt herself and she was always gentle to others. her biggest regret is not having been able to save her mom! you know why alice never turned into a villain like agatha? because her mom loved her. as simple and as that. lorna was so ill-equipped to save alice, she didn't know what she was up against, she was in a world of pain herself. and she went above and beyond to show her child how infinitely precious and loved she was.

oh wow, I usually say I'm crying as a figure of speech, but I am crying for real thinking about this.

lilia who has lived so long and experienced her big share of suffering, knowing all too well what alice is going through. there's so much compassion in her voice

jen stubbornly refusing to care about anything but her own pain, which is actually a very human way to respond to trauma? it's like she's at a crossroads and it's up to her to choose whether she goes back to being the force of good she used to be, or whether she goes down agatha's same path. I say it's up to her because it ultimately is, but she was so lucky finding this coven and community at such a crucial moment. agatha didn't have any of it.

no! don't apologize, you beautiful, generous soul! the sense of guilt and inferiority complex is real

agatha's face when billy is attacked

she starts running toward him even before alice

but when she gets there she freezes and lets alice go check on him

when she sees he's fine, she sighs and collapses against the door, clutching her chest.

lilia is really starting to get attached to everyone, and throughout her life love and loss have always been inherently linked. she already knows she's going to lose them.

okay jen refusing to leave the circle is still funny, I'll give her that

through all this rio has been watching and studying agatha, she always does. she knows that her diabolically smart wife loves to be in charge and come up with plans. she's being encouraging!

look at how small alice is! she's been helping and consoling billy just a moment ago, despite being miserable herself.

first of all, that's hilarious, so jot that down. second of all, you know agatha is so relieved she has to put on a show instead of doing something icky like, idk, sitting in a circle and talking about their feelings. and look at rio at the drums, she's already put all the clues together as well

oooh, she's doing the thing! she's detectiving! agatha harkness ladies and gentlemen, her hobbies are women, murder and puzzles.

and who gives her the solution? who has had millennia to study and commiserate human love and grief? she says it and she looks at agatha so pointedly.

The song that's so irrevocably linked to Nicky's memory, the song that she's been desecrating and using as a means to kill. A mother took it and poured all her love into it and made it pure again. Agatha has to live with that now, and you know that's going to take root inside her and affect her no matter what

this whole performance is patti going I might be singing backup again but watch me be a total diva about it

I LOVE YOU PATTI LUPONE

you'd think that alice should sing lead vocals here, seeing as it's her trial and her mom's song and all. WELL THINK AGAIN

the massive ego agatha has, honestly. you gotta respect that.

the feeling when you are the only normal person in a group of total hooligans. did I already say how gorgeous sasheer looks in that outfit? no I didn't. you are an apparition, sasheer.

but I want the song to have its own separate entry so hold on tight, brb

go to episode 4 part 5

[tongues-and-teeth-and-reblogs]

Dark Cacao after, not even despite her best attempts, because of her best attempts, she’s locked herself in an endless cycle of pushing everyone away and ending up alone. She wants to protect everyone so desperately, but she doesn’t realize her literal walls are naught but a gilded cage, and her metaphorical walls are built too closely for them to contain anyone but herself to inhabit.

[lufyuu]

,, Love Quest ''

Background character male reader x Protagonist oc

Part 1 Part 2

Tw/s: dub-con at the start, dacryphilia, rough sex, semi-public sex, overstimulation, multiple rounds.

In a world where everyone's assigned a role they have to be, you were one of the many unlucky yet common ones to get the role of a background character. One who couldn't even interact with the protagonist if you wanted. The way it works is through the system. There is a system that essentially controls the world. This system can create scenarios, assign roles, etc. This whole world was built by it. Everyone has to obey it, excluding the protagonist themself, that is. Some even say it's possible for the protagonist to control the system itself but, that's just a rumour.

Of course, the role with the most power is the protagonist. Anyone would dream to have that power. To be the protagonist and have everyone fawn for you, throwing themselves at your feet, worshipping your every step. Not only that, his love interest is the best of the best, the prettiest girl you'd ever be able to lay your eyes on, the one you'd never be able to get with if you weren't the protagonist. Just like any other previous protagonist in this world, the current one is an extrovert, River Sterling. He's a perfect guy in every way. He's very well known due to being the protagonist, but also, he is very talented. It's as if there is nothing he can't do. He's even the top 1 on campus. Very rarely is he seen getting anything under an A+. Despite everyone constantly praising him and falling at his feet, he remained humble.

Just like any other day, you enter the building with books in your hands. You had to return these to the professor after borrowing them for a day. No matter how much you studied, you always remained top 2, and because of that, you were annoyed by River. Of course, it's not his fault that he's the protagonist, but you couldn't help but still feel negatively towards him. Going up the many many stairs, you overhear a girl yelling, maybe at a guy? You're not sure what kind of situation it is, but you guess it is a fight between a couple. "You never even spend time with me! Am I not enough!? Destiny binded us together, and yet here you are, doing nothing to please me, your girlfriend!", it sounded like Aria, the protagonist's main love interest. "Aria, well how would I be able to spend time with you when I feel nothing towards you", River says with a nonchalant tone, shocking you a bit, you've never heard him using that tone before. You stop in your tracks, right in front of the door, where you can hear Aria yelling at him. "Y-you...what!?", you can hear Aria say in disbelief. "H-how is that even possible! I'm who you're supposed to be with, I complete you, I'm your other half!", even without being able to see her, you can tell she's tearing up, probably with a red face. Though despite her crying, you don't hear River comforting her. Which is again, very out of character for him.

Next thing you know, you hear a very loud slap accompanied by running sound towards the door. Before you could even react, the door swings white open, a blonde haired girl running out of the room, knocking you down in the process. You stare at the direction she runs to. "Who are you, why did you eavesdrop", you turn back to River, looking down at you, glaring, even. His once gentle eyes seem to be clouded. You don't even recognize him. "[N-Name]", you gulp, you felt as if the man in front of you was going to eat you whole if you said the wrong thing. "[Name]..? I've heard of you, the top 2, right?", he asks in an almost curious but borderline mocking tone. You remain seated on the floor, books scattered everywhere. "Are you not going to explain yourself?", he raises an eyebrow, walking towards you. Taking this as a sign to get the fuck out of there, you quickly grab the books and try to run off, only to have your shirt grabbed by the tall guy.

"Running off are we?", he looks at you with a questiong expression, why would you avoid him, he wont eat you, will he? With the clock ticking, both of you know that soon, this hall will be packed with students, fortunate for you, unfortunate for him. He doesn't want you to go before he can pry some information out of you.

Thinking of a plan, he quickly drags you to the room, shutting the door behind him so you won't be able to run out without him stopping you mid-way. With his hands crossed, he asks you once more, "Why were you eavesdropping?", his tone even more demanding. "I was on my way to the professor's office, I just overheard some things. Can I go now?", you give a quick explanation, wanting to get out of this situation as quick as possible. Though, he wouldn't allow it. "How much did you hear?", "not much, please let me go now," you walk towards the door, turning the door handle only to see it's locked. It shouldn't be. The door can only be locked from the inside, and by the looks of things, River didn't have time to lock the door.

[System: Love Quest]

In order to proceed, please engange in intercourse.

And just as the system suddenly appeared in their face, a percentage bar appeared in the corner of the room and it stood tall, at 0%. With one look, the both of you knew what it wanted. "What the fuck!?", you yell, looking at the window and then at the protagonist who clearly isn't phased. He only sighs, rolling his eyes, as if he was annoyed by this notification. "This shit again", he whispers, loud enough for you to overhear on accident. He's gone through this before..? is what you were thinking. You've almost never gotten a window from the system, let alone one with any sexual themes. If River wasn't shocked, that means it's probably a common occurrence for him.

The two of you stare at one another for an uncomfortable period of time. As if time stopped for a moment. "This is getting real annoying", he says, sighing and stepping towards you. You back away until your back is pressed on the door making you unable to escape as he grabs your chin, lifting it up and looking at you. "You'll make do", he says before pressing his lips onto yours. Out of shock, you try to push him off, wanting to yell at him. How could he, a protagonist, be kissing someone like you? You're what others would perceive as not worthy of being in his presence let alone be kissing him. Yet here you are, getting your mouth explored by the man himself. Your eyes were opened from shock but you closed it after a few seconds, wanting to savour this moment. His hand made its way to your cheek. He was very gentle with both his hand and lips, making you lean into his touch. Before long, you felt as if you were running out of breath, how long can he even kiss you for!? Fortunately for you, he let go of the kiss, panting and trying to catch his breath after that incredible make out session. "We're not done yet", he says, pointing out the elephant in the room which is the percentage bar which still stands tall at 0%, no progress has been made, making the room inaccessible from the outside. The doors being magically locked also kept anyone from getting out before the goal was met. You knew you had no other choice but to do this in order to get out, as much as you were annoyed by the guy as a student, you couldn't deny his charm, the way his eyes looked into yours, the way his grazed his thumb over your lips. Who wouldn't fall head over heels for him? Anyone would die to be you at this very moment.

Without any hesitation, you managed to gather the courage to pull him into another kiss, you could feel him smiling into the kiss as he reciprocated. Moving his hands to your hips, trailling down to your clothed butt. Gropping and fondling it before he eventually unzips your pants, letting them slide down to your ankles. Leaving your bottoms almost bare if not for your briefs covering your private part. "Ahm...agh", the both of you moaned into the intense kiss before letting go. "You're a good kisser", you comment, gasping for air once more. He smirks, "of course, I'm not the protagonist for nothing", he chuckles a bit. You felt hands slipping into your briefs, making its way to your ass, gripping it even more now. He really seems to be enjoying gropping you. You felt his fingers move closer and closer to your hole before he inserts a finger into you, causing you to grip his arms in shock. "A-agh..!", you let out a surprised moan, his finger wiggling around, trying to get your hole to relax a bit, "you're so tense, [Name], loosen up a little", his inserted another finger, making you unable to keep your composure no matter how much you try to.

You feel his fingers thrusting into you, as if trying to get you to cum from his fingers alone. His long and slender fingers were quite deep in you. It wasn't long before he added another finger. And now that three fingers are going in and out of your hole, you feel as if you're aboit to reach your climax. You close your eyes, moaning loudly. He took notice to this and immediately stopped his fingers as if knowing you were about to cum. You're now puzzled by his actions, why did he stop? "I don't want you cumming from just my fingers, that wouldn't be fun now would it?", you then hear the sound of pants unzipping, realizing it was from him. He pulled his hard cock out of his briefs. You stared at it for a while before he snapped you back to reality, "eyes up here, angel", he teased, giving you a pet name while he was at it. "What? Have you never seen a cock this big?", you definitely haven't. It wasn't just long, just looking at the girth of it made you shiver a bit, how will that even fit. It was befitting of a protagonist, he's perfect in every way, even in his physical attributes. "Enough staring, angel", he says as he suddenly picks your legs up. You instinctively put your arms around him tightly so you don't end up falling, "hey!", you yell, this wasn't a pleasant surprise, you could've fallen, "relax, you're quite light", he is very strong afterall, he's joined almost every single sport available at this point.

You decide to put your trust in him, he's able to hold you up for over a minute now, there's no way he'll suddenly drop you, that'd ruin the moment on top of you getting hurt. After the shock wore off, you notice something poking at your hole, "hm..?", you let out a hum of confusion, turning your head down only to see his cock at your entrance, wanting to be inside you. "Are you ready to be filled up like you've never had before?", the now cocky-like protagonist asks with a slight chuckle at the end. You nod and immediately feel his cock thrust up inside of you, almost halfway in already. He grunts at how tight you are despite him having prepared your sweet little hole for his cock beforehand. Trying his best to get his cock all the way into your hole as you moan out in pain and pleasure, "relax why don't you?", he gives a teasing smile. Leaning in for a kiss, he manages to get you to relax and without another word, thrusts the rest of his cock into you, shocking you once more. You accidentally bite his lip in the process, drawing a bit of blood. "Agh!", he pulls back, tapping his finger on his lip and seeing that blood is coming out of the wound. He focuses on you once more, as if signifying he's about to move. You give a slight nod and he starts to thrust in and out of you, slowly and sensually at first. "You're really warm inside", he comments while thrusting into you, looking into your eyes as you manage to keep them open.

After a while of the sensual and slow fucking, he gets tired of it, wanting to thrust into you quicker. And so, he does as he wants. Thrusting into you quicker this time, rougher. You close your eyes and tighten the grip on his upper back, scratching his skin through his shirt. Your moans are no longer considered quiet, you're full on moaning your head out. That was before you realized the bell had rung, students were on their way to class and they'd pass by this specific room. You bite your lip in order to muffle out the moans, keeping it somewhat quiet in order to not get caught. River on the other hand, didn't like this one bit. He wants to hear your delicious and sweet moans, you should let them out for him to hear. "Stop biting your lip, angel, let me hear you", something in his voice made you want to obey his words, and for some reason, you find yourself no longer biting your lip, now you're just letting it all out, moaning and crying out for him.

The faster he went, the more you felt like you were about to reach your climax. He also seemed to be close. The both of you sweating, moaning, grunting. "I'm, agh, gonna cum...!", he says as he shoots his load all in you, coating your inner walls with his seed, some even dripping out. At that moment, you also came, releasing your juice all over your stomach. With the two of you now panting and gasping for air, River carries you to a nearby table, letting the two of you rest for a while. Just then, the door swings wide open, "Who the fuck was making all that noise!?", a teacher yells into the room, seemingly staring straight at them. The teacher looks around in confusion, "huh...I was so sure there was someone here...", He then turns his heels and walks back out, closing the doors on his way. You who were covering your face due to this, looked in the direction the teacher was in confusion, "did..he not see us..?", you ask River, to which he replies, "the system did that, probably", as if the system heard the man, it dings and the both of you turn your heads towards the bar of percentage now sitting at a solid 30%, "huh? 30%?", you say out loud in even more confusion, "it wants us to have sex and get it up to 100%", River says without missing a beat, "ready for round two?"

———

"Agh..! To..oo big, ahghh...", you try to say in-between moans, overstimulated by his cock and the way he bites your nipples. "You're taking me so well", at least he's enjoying it, a lot. You even wonder if he has an infinite stamina, but of course your thoughts were drowned by the time he came in you for the third time. How many rounds has it even been? The bar has been stuck at 99% for so long, when will this end..You're so overstimulated at this point, River's cock has been relentlessly fucking you dumb. You can't even think anymore, nor can you let out any coherent words. It's been at least a couple of hours since the both of you started this, why hasn't it ended. Your cheeks are wet, wet from the tears which had been and are still rolling down your face. He loves witnessing your debauchery. Your clothes have been discarded to the side by now, you don't know where but they're on the floor somewhere. His thrusts get faster and faster, you didn't even know he could go this fast but here he is, fucking you with inhuman speed. "C'mon..ah..come with me, my angel...agh", he moans and grunts while saying this. Then his thrusts stop and you feel even more liquid filling your already over-filled hole, making it impossible to be kept inside and most of it dripping out your hole and onto the floor which has a pool of both yours and his cum. At that very moment, you feel your whole body give out as your vision blurs until you eventually black out.

———

What happened in the room stayed in the room. Your life went on as usual, the normal schedule. Though, one thing has definitely changed. That is the fact that you are now dating the protagonist despite still having the role of a 'background character' . Everyone was shocked but learned to accept it. Who are they to defy the protagonist's wishes? One person in particular wasn't happy about this. None other than his ex, Aria. Everyone saw that coming from a mile away, though, so nobody paid her any mind. After that, River took any and every class you took. Science? You'd see him sit there with an empty seat next to him, looking up at you and asking with a big smile, "come! Sit here, angel!", while patting the seat next to him to signal for you to sit. PE? He'd always get you into his team no matter what. No matter how bad the other team wanted you on theirs, they'd never have you as you now belong to River. Being in the same class as you had its advantages. That is, being able to fuck you in class without anyone noticing. To be frank, the both of you found it out on accident. It was during class when the both of you got a new love quest. You thought of leaving the class to finish but the system didn't let you. It wanted the both of you to do it at that very moment. When he took the initiative and pulled your shirt up to bite your nipples, not a single student nor the teacher had any reaction, it was as if the both of you were protected by an invisible bubble that allowed the quest to take place. That, combined with the fact the teacher couldn't see the both of you the first time, confirmed your suspicions that they were indeed unable to see you.

From that day forward, the two of you almost always got a love quest every single day of school. The session would last at least 2 hours, leaving both of you a hot sweaty mess once it was over and done with. You'd always be embarrassed and extra tight during these. The way you felt eyes on you, it was as if they could see you, but in reality, they really can't. You'd tighten up at the thought of them watching you, making River grunt even more due to your tightness. He'd smirk and ram even harder into you once this happens. "Naughty boy, you get off to the thought of people watching, huh?", he'd always tease you. These love quests would be random, though. Despite it happening every day, the two of you could never predict when it'd occur. It could be very early in the morning, in class, or even during an activity. It was always random, so why would you always see River getting hard even before the love quest appear...? It's probably nothing. You're just paranoid.

☆☆☆☆☆

Apologies for the wait. My schedule's been real hectic lately. This is not proofread, so please excuse the probably many mistakes/typos!

I hope you enjoyed it! If you have any questions/reqs, please do send them my way!<3

[coquettepascal]

texas sweet

summary: joel is your friendly neighborhood dad of the year, so why is his driveway empty on father's day? better yet, why do you feel the need to make up for everyone elses absence?

tags: 18+, smut, handjob, desc of joel mastubrating, a "massage", neighbor!joel x f!reader, massages, general cheesiness, soft!joel, pathetic!joel, almost(?) sub!joel, reader gets blueballed (sorry), biting, joel whimpering, joel being a proud girl dad, no-outbreak, ellie and sarah exist, tommy is mentioned(!!), joel is a southern gentleman, mention of reader having parents, no desc of reader but she can fit between joel and the couch, dilf!joel (yum)

a/n: my first joel fic ever... i would like to thank every person who has written no-outbreak!joel or pre-outbreak!joel. i freaked it.

(4.9k, not beta read.)

Moving to Texas was not the plan, or even the “blessing” your mother claimed it would be. Being the one who took over your grandparents home after they moved to a seniors facility? Fantastic! Amazing, even. Leaving your job, friends, and boyfriend, back home? Horrible. Heart wrenching and annoying. 

Austin, for the most part, was lonely. Long distance didn’t end up working between you and your boyfriend, your friends just got busier with their jobs, and it wasn’t like your parents could just drive 14 hours to see you every weekend. Co-workers were nice, but honestly who really wants to hang out with people you already spend 40 hours a week with? Maybe you were jaded, or picky, which was what your mother also claimed, or maybe your whole life was uprooted for what felt like no reason.

What you weren’t picky about, was the view from your bedroom window. You’re not a peeping tom, or a perv, but it isn’t your fault that your dilf-y next door neighbor is so easy on the eyes.

No, moving to Austin was not a blessing, but Joel Miller was.

Joel was the neighborhood guy. Need an oil change? Joel. Need your fence fixed? Joel. Block party? Joel’s yard. It’s like he doesn’t know how to say no to anybody, that southern politeness deeper than the drawl that lies in his voice. When you had first moved here he had helped you move your couch through the door, all smiles and polite nods. He barely introduced himself before he was asking if you needed any help, and he had called you “young lady,” which made you giggle. Such a giving man, but of course he was. A single father to two daughters? “No” wasn't in his vocabulary.

Sometimes, you think if your dad was as good a father as Joel Miller was, maybe you wouldn’t be fiending after him with such ferocity. Watching him with his two girls, Sarah and Ellie, was something that tugged your heartstrings no matter what. Sarah wasn’t around a lot anymore, apparently she went away to a fancy college. You had helped her pack all her stuff into Joel’s truck, but quickly went inside when you saw him getting misty eyed, you didn't want to embarrass the poor guy. Ellie is younger than Sarah and still lives at home. Honestly, you didn’t know much about her apart from the fact that she was adopted and that she’s in high school. She’s always happy to chat, but she’s also always going somewhere, which leaves Joel lonely sometimes. 

Joel seems better suited for loneliness than you are though. His brother Tommy comes around pretty often, though they seem fairly opposite. Tommy truly is sweet, has always chatted with you during block parties (even if it may be for nefarious reasons when he’s had too many drinks,) but he looks like… a fuckboy. Without fail, every time he rolls up to Joel’s house, he’s blasting some shitty new country music and wearing Pit Viper sunglasses as he carefully parks his spotless truck. Despite their differences though, they get along just as well. Your summer evenings are often interrupted by the sound of their laughs and the crisp sound of the two cracking open some cold ones. 

So why is it that when Father’s day rolls around, Joel’s driveway is empty?

You aren’t watching on purpose, you just happen to glance over that way a lot. The only action you see from his house is Ellie leaving for her friend's house sometime after noon, like usual on a Sunday. No signs of Sarah or Tommy. Part of you figured that maybe Sarah would make the lengthy drive down from her school, or maybe that Tommy would show up at some point, but nobody does. 

‘Not creepy,’ you assure yourself as you go upstairs to peer through your bedroom window to see if anyone is there. You could totally look through the kitchen window that directly faces his backyard, but you fear the day he’s looking right back at you. 

Looking outside, you see nothing. Joel’s grey-blue truck sits unmoved in the driveway, his plants are watered though so you guess he came outside at some point. The thought makes you feel a bit sad, the image of Joel and his soft eyes watering the plants, whistling to himself and trying to tell himself it doesn’t matter that nobody came. He probably really doesn’t care at all, a lot of men aren’t very sentimental or emotional about days like this, but you care.

He’s a good man, a good father, and a good neighbor. Seeing him be underappreciated on what is basically his day is ticking you off for some stupid reason. When 3pm rolls around you decide that you have to do something for Joel, it feels wrong not to. 

Which is how you end up in line for the register at Home Depot. You sat in the parking lot for 10 minutes racking your brain, trying to think of things that guys like, but came up with nothing. Joel is a contractor, so he’ll probably find some use out of a 50 dollar Home Depot gift card, but it still feels too impersonal. Joel literally fixed your toilet when a date you took home broke the handle off the tank mid-vomit. He’s too nice to just hand a stupid gift card with “Happy Father’s day” scrawled across the mini paper envelope. He deserves something thoughtful, something gentler than a gift card for (probably) his job. 

…Which is how you end up waiting in line for the register at the supermarket. You have a bouquet of flowers in your hand, with a Home Depot gift card shoved in your jacket pocket. It feels utterly ridiculous to give Joel Miller flowers, to pick out which colours you think he’d like and get the florist to wrap them up neatly with a bow, but you have a good reason. At some point in the past week you had seen a post about how a lot of men never receive flowers. It resurfaced in your head as you picked your brain again, making you wonder if Joel had ever received flowers. You know that he was married once, but that was when Sarah was little, it’d probably been 10 or even 15 years since he had any gestures like that made for him.

Not that this was for romance reasons. It was for father’s-appreciation-day reasons. Of course.

Maybe you shouldn’t be so invested in your neighbors emotions and life, but it’s too late now. You carefully pack away the flowers in the back seat of your car, snuggling the gift card into the ribbon that holds the flowers together. 

—

And if you thought that standing in line at Home Depot, or at the supermarket was bad, it’s so much worse trying to work up the courage to knock on Joel’s front door. You can’t figure out how to hold this bouquet of flowers behind your back without dropping them, so you just awkwardly knock on his door with one hand, flowers in the other. At least the gift card is managing to stay in place where you tucked it, but you wish you told the florist not to write his name in cursive.

Your repeating thoughts of “Is this weird? Am I weird?” are interrupted when he opens the door.

Joel looks… normal. He doesn’t look sad like you thought he might, if anything he looks more confused at you being there. His brown hair is tousled slightly and he’s wearing pajama pants, even though he smells fresh. Joel’s eyes meet yours and he tilts his head quietly, as if waiting for you to go on, but what do you even say? Oh shit that’s right–

“Happy father’s day,” your voice comes out shyly. You shove the flowers at him a little abruptly and he blinks in surprise, accepting them. It’s awkward for a second, the way his eyebrows shoot up as he notices the cursive lettering of his name written on the envelope.

“These’re for me, darlin’?” He asks curiously, still looking over the flowers.

A stammering of “um” and “yeah” leave your mouth pretty quickly and he smiles. You’re pretty sure he says thank you, but you just kind of stare at him awkwardly. A beat passes between the two of you as he admires the gift. “You uh– You don’t think of me as your dad, do you?” Joel asks. Oh fuck. You hadn’t thought about the fact that maybe that was what he would take away from this. All of your thoughts had been consumed by worries that he’d think you were trying to hit on him, but here he was thinking that you thought of him as a father figure. Which you didn’t. Your dad is fine, no need to replace him, at least not at this point. 

“No, no. Oh my god– Sorry,” You choke out, half laughing. It’s a quiet moment on the porch for a second, just the two of you standing there. Maybe you should explain your thought process.

“It’s just that you’re a dad and like– not to sound like a weirdo freak but nobody’s been at your house all day and it made me sad for you. Not that I pity you but,” your voice trails off as you fear you’ve made this worse. Joel seems a bit surprised at this, mouth opening slightly but then transitioning to a soft smile.

“And what if I told you that I wanted everyone t’leave me alone today?” He asks you slyly. And oh god, that is so much worse than him mistaking this gesture for flirting or pity. You never would have thought that maybe the guy who does everything for everyone probably just wants to be left the hell alone for a gift. Your heart drops in your chest, taking all the blood in your face with it. Embarrassment floods you with a force you didn’t realize possible, stuttered apologies leaving your lips as fast as you can. Joel shakes his head, laughing quietly as you sputter “sorry” repeatedly, like a broken sprinkler.

“I’m jokin’, sweetheart. I appreciate this,” he says. The crows' feet by his eyes shouldn’t be as charming as they are, but combined with that rumbling laugh and smile… he could get away with anything. He plucks the Home Depot gift card from the ribbon and huffs a laugh, like he’s impressed.

Well that’s… something? It made him smile right? Maybe feeling bad for Joel was better than feeling stupid in front of him. You step back, towards the stairs of his porch, but he shakes his head. “You were really this worried?” He asks, admiring the flowers. That makes your heart bloom in your chest, seeing how much he really liked this. Joel didn’t seem much like a flower guy, but you saw the way he kept his yard neat, with tulips in the spring and his lawn trimmed squarely. Shyly, you nod in response to his question. It feels silly to worry for him like this, you don’t know if he considers you a friend the way he is in your head.

“S’awful sweet,” he tells you. Something about his presence is so big, a balance of hospitality and intimidation all at once. Maybe it’s his big stature, broad shoulders and thick arms, a body built for work. Or his voice, the strong timbre of it, humbled in southern twang. Joel is a force of warmth, a heat that can’t be contained. His heart shines through his golden skin, forcing whoever he looks at to have a spotlight. That’s where the intimidation lies, in how he makes you feel like there’s a halo over your head, all his attention right there. 

He’s so hot you don’t even want him to look at you.

But there he is anyways, smiling as he admires the gift again, dorkily leaning in to dramatically huff the flowers. His mouth is moving but you're deafened by the sensation of a blush on your face. You thought it was just a silly little crush, because who wouldn’t find Joel attractive. He’s handsome, hard working, and just an all around traditional man. But this attraction… It's like your crush on him has given you tinnitus. His lips are moving and you aren’t registering the words. Wait shit, he’s speaking–

“Darlin’?” Joel calls. He looks at you, head tilted, and still fucking smiling. The way his eyes glimmer, the crows feet that squeeze them into a smile… Why is it so hard to hear him?

“I asked if you wanted to come in,” he repeats. 

—

You’ve never been inside Joel’s house, but you’d never thought about it either. Being in it, now, it all makes sense. Photos of his daughters are framed everywhere, their achievements plastered on the walls in shines of silver and gold. It’s hard not to imagine Joel hunched over his kitchen counter, tediously cutting pictures out to place them in frames. He was only an idea before, an idea of a man, and now he has become one wordlessly. All it took was stepping inside his house, smelling him everywhere. Life dances in the jackets that are tossed over dining room chairs, the toolbelt dumped by the shoe rack at the door. The picture of Joel you held in your mind begins to come alive, the movements in the details of his life stealing your breath. He is more than a good man, he is a great one.

And now, you have to strike up a conversation with him.

Joel grunts as he sits down on the couch beside you, placing two glasses of water down. He places his glass in front of the can of beer sitting on a coaster, distorting the label to nothing but warped blue and red. Is he hiding that he was drinking? Why is that cute? 

A pause hushes both of you as Joel gets comfortable, sitting down. He’s paused a show, but it just looks like it was whatever movie was playing on the local TV channel. 

“You must be so proud of them,” you say, eyes glazing over the pictures of Sarah and Ellie. You can tell exactly which photos were taken with a camera and which were taken with his phone. One picture of Ellie, maybe when she was 13 or 14, is from her soccer tournament. She’s smiling, holding up a ribbon for MVP, and Joel’s thumb is in the bottom corner. It’s strange to realize that Joel has basically been a father twice over, but also admirable. 

He talks for a little while, rambling about Sarah and her time up at college, and also how Ellie has been doing better in school this year. You always had a feeling Ellie was a bit feistier than Sarah was, but to hear how proud Joel is of her anyways makes your heart flutter. His love for them was so unconditional, so why weren’t they here today? You ask him, a half smile crossing his lips as he hears your question.

“Sarah called me ‘round lunchtime, one of them video calls. Had lunch with my girl and got to catch up with her. She’s so damn busy, y’know that? Always studying and,” he catches his breath, realizing he’s blabbing again. A reddish tone creeps up his neck in embarrassment.

“Point is, she called. Was nice of her, I miss her lots,” He finishes quietly.

Your eyebrow raises. He didn’t mention Ellie. Joel huffs.

“I’m 99% sure she’s over at Dina’s making me a gift, but it’s fine that she forgot. I’ve been on her ass about homework, fair’s fair.”

He looks cute when he’s begrudging, one side of his mouth sliding to the side so part of his cheek puffs over it. You nod, making a comment in response. The conversation is so smooth you forget what you’re saying as soon as you’re laughing. 

This is easier than you thought it would be. Joel’s always been friendly, obviously, but you just assumed he would be more closed off than this. Even if it’s just rambling about his daughters, or Tommy, or the jobs he’s been managing and how annoying his clients are, it’s something more. Something more than the passing glances and small conversation you’ve had before.

You talk a bit about your own life, how tough the move to Texas was, how lonely it can be. Joel doesn’t seem as receptive to this, but there’s an understanding in his eyes that you can feel. He’s a tough clam to slide your knife into, and you doubt you’ll feel his tongue today. The eager blabber he has for his family and career doesn’t extend to himself, and it seems you’ve hit a wall with him. Or maybe you’ve hit too close to home. “Sorry,” you say, feeling a little weird. 

This whole day has felt like you’re pulling against a lead Joel wasn’t even holding in the first place, like you’re always doing too much. But just like the rest of the day, he isn’t holding the rope around your neck. He’s surging forward with reassurances blooming out of his mouth, Texas sweet to the bone. 

He shakes his head, telling you that it’s fine, he gets it. A joke about being a single father, a smile directed at you, consoling. Vaporub for your congested anxieties.

“I’m sorry darlin,” Joel starts, and fuck is he sending you home? Is that your cue to leave? You did too much, he was just being nice.

“-- I didn’t even offer you water when you came in. D’you need somethin’ to drink?” He asks.

God, doesn’t he get tired of being this nice? Your neighbors warned you that he was a grump when you first moved here, dirty liars. 

“Oh, sure, uh. Water would be good, thanks,” you reply.

You’re only half paying attention to the grunt he lets out when he gets up the first time, your eyes busying themselves with the way his cotton tee stretches across the muscled planes of his back. But, after he hands you the glass of water and groans when he sinks back into the couch, you notice. 

You down the glass like you’re parched, but really your mouth just needs to be full right now. The sound of his groans are bouncing in your ear canals as your neck flushes red with each gulp of water. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything.

“Bad back?” You ask after you catch your breath. 

He hums in response, talking about how it comes with the job he has. “All that lifting in my early years…” as if he’s a thousand years old. Joel mentions that he’s been to the chiropractor a few times, thanks to Sarah’s begging and pleading.

“I don’t know, I think it’s gimmicky. They get you on the table and the guy feelin’ you up acts like he’s Christ himself,” Joel says, rolling his eyes. 

The idea of Joel, shirtless and face down, grumbling as some guy works his hands over his skin. The idea of Joel groaning in relief as someone else works those knots out, God you wish you were a chiropractor, you wish you could put your hands all over him.

Greed hardens over your mind like a shell, and the words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them.

“I could– I could help, maybe. My dad used to have a pretty bad back and I kinda figured out how to work knots out.”

Joel’s eyes widen, looking over to you with mild interest. For the first time today, around Joel, you don’t feel like you’ve overstepped. In fact he looks interested in this offer. A beat passes between the two of you, hesitation caught in his throat it seems.

It’s probably super fucked up in his head, his younger neighbor coming over and offering to rub him down. But your mind is still greedy, coated in thoughts of his skin under your palms, and that southern rumble that’s given you dilf earworms.

He looks like he’s about to say no when you speak again.

“You don’t even have to lay down, or take your shirt off. Could just lift it up,” you offer. 

Joel still looks like he’s going to say no, the left side of his mouth raising to make up some reason. You can’t let him, not when you’ve been this ballsy. Walking out of here now would make this infinitely more awkward.

“It’s your day, Joel,” you supply him with a reason to say yes. The reason might be silly, might be a last minute add-on to his father’s day, but who cares.

Apparently not Joel, since he pulls his shirt up to his shoulders, the fabric scrunching around his broad frame.

—

You feel a little stupid, slotted behind Joel on the couch. The two of you are basically shoved up against one another, Joel wriggling to give you access to his lower back. He hasn’t said anything yet, no reassurance that this backrub is any good. You think you’re doing well, you feel the knots loosening. It might be better this way, him not making noise. The groan you heard earlier was more than enough to push you into a frenzy.

Your hands work further down, where his waist begins to pull in. Looking closer you can see where the softness of his tummy is, a fatherly badge of honor. Continuing your movements, you gently press your thumbs into the flesh there, and earn yourself Joel’s first noise.

Not a grunt, groan, complaint, or cuss. A whimper.

Your voice clashes with his, both of you talking over each other accidentally.

“Are you okay–” you ask as his voice flounders again, a “Darlin--” leaving him out of his own volition.

Pulling your hands away you begin to pull his shirt back down his back, mortified. How could you claim you were good at this and then hurt his back more? Joel’s been through enough today.

“Please don’t stop,” Joel’s voice grabs your brain again, forcing your focus.

He’s sliding his shirt up again, just by rolling his shoulders as he hunches over, waiting for you to continue. His face is in his hands, and his ears are pink. It’s the first time he’s asked you for anything tonight, you can’t refuse him. 

Placing your hands back where they were, you begin to massage again. It seems like his lower back is the main problem, with the way he’s grunting into his palms. As your hands work away the aches he begins to swear to himself. 

“Fuck,” he grunts as your thumbs dig deep, soothing a pain he hasn’t felt eased in years. 

This is good. Pride spreads in your chest, knowing he feels better. Your hands work away, and you get laser focused on untangling these massive knots in his back. Eventually you break your focus, switching to softer rubs and small scratches up and down his back.

Tearing your eyes away from his skin, you realize the throw pillow that was beside you earlier is gone. The yellow corner of the cushion peeks at you from where you saw Joel’s belly earlier, over his lap. A thick forearm is crushing it into himself there, the veins in his neck pulsing. 

Flames lick up your face, onto the tips of your ears and down your neck, heating your spine. Is he aroused right now? “Joel?” You ask quietly. 

He shakes his head, voice tight.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Just– it just feels nice,” he admits.

Your hands pause. Okay, so he’s admitted he’s hard. What do you do now? Keep rubbing his back and blueball the poor guy? On Father's day? That seems mean, and awkward. Everything about this is awkward though, so it couldn’t really get worse.

“I could… I could help it feel better,” you offer meekly.

You’re not scared of a dick. You aren’t. Your voice is quiet because it seems like he is horribly ashamed of this, probably feeling guilty.

Joel rubs a hand over his face.

“You don’t have to, you can just go,” he says, but his voice betrays him. Need is sewn in his tone, a desperation.

Part of you wonders how long it’s been since someone touched him like this as you reach around, palming the front of his jeans. The hiss he lets out tells you it’s been awhile. How wrong that is, an attractive man like Joel being forced to get his own rocks off.

Getting the button and fly of his jeans down is difficult when you can’t see, even worse when your brain is making up images of Joel masturbating. He’s so shy when he’s being touched, does he bite his sheets? Bite his other fist in the shower? Poor boy, he deserves this. 

His hips lift off the couch to help you shove his jeans and briefs down. Joel’s bare ass slides against you and he cringes. “Is it okay if you don’t look?” He asks. 

You hate that he seems so insecure, but you’re not going to push him. Nodding into his skin, you press your face to his back, resting your cheek near the blade of his shoulder. He’s heavy in your palm, warm skin with veins your fingers can trace over.

Telling him that he’s big feels redundant, you’re sure he knows that about himself. Neither of you seem very sure about what you’re doing, the shuddering breaths from his chest matching your hesitant grasp around his cock. 

“Are you okay?” You ask again.

Joel nods into his hand, asking you to please touch him. 

Admittedly, it’s a dry hand job, but Joel doesn’t seem to mind. The flick of your wrist is fluid, even if your arm is cramping from being wrapped around him. Joel lets out these little noises, grunts and whines. His hand is covering his eyes while the other one rests lightly on your forearm, like he wants to know that you’re still there.

Need is exuding from him, making his desperation take over his need to really give a shit about how submissive he might be appearing. He shudders particularly hard as you squeeze on the upstroke, voice choking.

“Shit– shit, please,” he gasps, “please can I spit in your hand?” 

It’s a little surprising, but again, you can’t refuse him. You say “yeah” into his skin, closing your eyes as you feel him spit into your hand. It’s filthy, his saliva on you as he guides your hand to jerk him off. Joel uses your palm to slick the head of his dick, teasing himself on your skin.

It’s the first time you’ve seen him be selfish all day. Part of you wants to call him a good boy, but part of you also knows this might not be normal for Joel. Hell, this isn’t normal for you either. 

Instead, you ask him if it’s good. A rasped “yes,” emanates from him between a low groan and a curse. Your head lifts from his back as he begins to shudder, his orgasm creeping closer. Listening to him is so good, you’re a mess between your legs, where your core nudges his ass.

Without a thought, you sink your teeth into the meat between his shoulder and his neck. Not enough pressure to bruise or hurt, just to let him know you’re there. There was no intention to push him over the edge, but your little bite does. A guttural groan is forced out of him as he comes into your hand, stringing sticky between your fingers. 

“Fuck– fuck I’m sorry, oh my god,” he pants, shivering. 

Your head is shaking again, reassuring him that it was okay, that he’s okay. 

“It’ll wash off,” you joke, feeling the stick of him on you. 

—

Joel does help you wash it off, once he’s done redressing. He’s clingy though, arms around your waist and chin hooked over your shoulder as you wash your hands in his kitchen sink. He’s definitely sleepy, eyes blinking slowly when you peek at him while you dry your hands.

You step close to him, your damp hands meeting his dry ones. The awkward spirit of the evening has been killed off, his shyness melted away.

“Usually I’d offer to return the favor but… I have to pick up Ellie from her friend’s house now. I’m really sorry, darlin’,” he admits.

Shaking your head, you push away the negative feeling that surfaces. How are you supposed to go back to being neighbors after that? But also, what did you really expect?

Joel leads you to the door, legs a bit shakey. A smug feeling joins the negative ones in your chest at that, but it’s not enough. 

“I really do apologize,” Joel says again, “but this just gives me an opportunity to see you again. If you’d like, obviously. I think I owe ya dinner.” 

And there he is, not holding your lead but reassuring your heart. He wants to see you again.

Your eyes meet his in the dim light of the hallway, catching those sweet eyes in your own. He looks so hopeful, so apologetic too.

“I’d like that, but you don’t owe me anything. It’s Father’s day,” you point out. 

Joel rolls his eyes. This Father’s day excuse is a little overused between the two of you now, but it’s still cute to him since you’re the one saying it. He opens the door for you, slipping his own boots on and grabbing his keys.

“Fine,” Joel says, “but when Pretty Neighbor day rolls around, you let me know.

[writingouthere]

neighbor!Sukuna x singlemom!reader, you go to check out a potential apartment and Sukuna joins because he is very helpful. Longest one yet so strap in!

cw:Sukuna waving his red flag like a matador while you do your best SZA impression

Sukuna thought you seemed more stressed than usual when he got home. You still talked through dinner and entertained your daughter but he could tell something was weighing on you. While Bug chased some very melted ice cream around her bowl with her spoon, he brought over some dishes to where you had already started washing the pans you'd used to make dinner.

"Thought I was responsible for the dishes since you made dinner," he reminded you, gently nudging you out the way.

"It's really not a bother and besides, you're already doing us such a big favor, letting us stay here," you said and you sounded a little choked up at the end which made him turn the water off so he could give you his full attention.

"How many times do I have to tell you I don't mind?" He couldn't help some frustration edging into his tone which only made you look sadder. He sighed and dried his hands on the towel, a new addition you had gotten, it was covered in sunflowers and it reminded him of you every time he used it.

"What's going on, you seem off today?"

You hesitated and he put his hand on your shoulder. He preened when you put your smaller hand on top of his and squeezed before giving you his full attention.

"I-I went to go see an apartment today and it was just awful." Sukuna barely fixed his face in time for you to look up at him. He had no idea you were even looking at other places. You'd barely been at his place a month and he had thought you had a good routine going on. You both split the household responsibilities and you spent your time not working together. He picked up your daughter twice a week now from daycare and took over Sunday mornings so you had some time to yourself. Someone at the grocery store had cooed over your adorable family and you hadn't even corrected them.

Obviously, you still weren't getting it and Sukuna reminded himself that it wasn't your fault. It was still like pulling teeth to get you to talk about your ex and honestly what he'd heard about your family hadn't really impressed him either. You had been taking care of yourself for far too long and it only made sense that you would be worried about being a burden on him when other people had made you feel like that rather than seeing caring for you as the privilege it was.

"Why was the apartment so awful?"

You bit your lip and he felt some concern that wasn't related to you potentially leaving. "What?"

"It was the usual, you know. It was over my budget and it was too small, I mean Bug is getting bigger every day, she needs her own room too. Then the building looks like it's only days away from collapsing and the guy who showed it, I mean he was just such a creep."

"Creep, how?"

You sighed and squeezed his hand again, but he wasn't sure if it was for your sake or you were trying to calm him down since he was sure his anger was obvious.

"It doesn't matter-

"Of course it matters, you're trying to find a home for you and your kid and some guy is making you feel uncomfortable in the space you might end up living-"

"-well I'm not going to live there, so. Doesn't matter," you say stubbornly and Sukuna hums but doesn't argue.

It's clear this is weighing on you, and while Sukuna has no intention of you moving out, unless it's him along with you, he figures this is a two birds one stone situation. Because fuck him if he was going to let you wander around the city being harassed by some dumb fucks who thought they could take advantage of a single mom.

"Are you seeing any other places," he asked and you bit your lip.

"Well, there was this one other place but after today I'm not sure-"

"Let me go with you," he said and you looked up at him and well, with the tears just beginning to fill your eyes and the little glimmer of hope he could see peaking out, how could he do anything but assure you. "Let me go with you and you can look around the place without worrying about anyone bothering you. Besides, it would make me feel better if I could scope out the place you and Bug might be moving to. I want to make sure you'll be safe."

Of course, you two would be safe because you would be with him but whatever got him to the showing.

"What about Bug?"

"Yuuji can watch her. He's been dying to babysit since he met her."

This was true. Sukuna's brother was suspicious, rightfully, of Sukuna and his intentions towards you, but Bug's cuteness was a great distraction whenever the three of them were together.

"Okay, okay. Tomorrow, could he watch her tomorrow?"

"Let me call, him. Don't worry, I'll take care of you, okay?"

You nodded and Bug started calling for you both. You went over to give your toddler the attention she clearly wanted while Sukuna finished the dishes and thought over how he would handle this situation tomorrow.

-------------------------------------------

The next day, Yuuji showed up bright and early with the two idiots that were always with him these days. Sukuna rather liked the Fushiguro kid but the woman that was always with him still got on his last damn nerve. Her and Yuuji together were a threat to decency laws and his fucking eardrums.

"Morning! Where is my precious baby girl," Yuuji cooed stepping in as if he still lived there as Fushiguro gave him a quick nod and Kugisaki walked in without even a hello.

"She's not your baby," Sukuna said, shutting the door a little harder than necessary.

"Well, she isn't your baby either, so."

Before Sukuna could literally murder his brother, you came out with Bug on your hip.

"Uji!!" Your daughter loved Yuuji and you put her down so she could run over and greet her favorite uncle.

"Thank you so much for watching her," you said grabbing your purse off the counter. "Are these your friends from school?"

The two freeloaders introduced themselves while Yuuji started flying your daughter around like he was a plane. At least your daughter would be tired by the time you two got back.

"Let's get going, we got to get there by nine," Sukuna said, putting his hand on the small of your back and directing you towards the door. There were several loud calls of good-bye and good lucks as you two shut the door and made your way to the car.

When you get to the apartment, the super is waiting at the front door of the building. Sukuna sees him shoot you a smarmy grin that abruptly drops off when he takes Sukuna in.

"Good morning miss, I wasn't aware you were bringing your...."

"Partner," Sukuna states firmly and holds out his hand. "Pleasure," he says, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. You only look on in amusement as the fucker shakes his hand and then turns his eyes back on you, much more subdued than he'd been at first.

"Right, so the apartment is on the fourth floor. A walk-up but good way to stay in shape..."

He drones on as you and Sukuna follow behind.

"You cannot carry a stroller up four flights of stairs," he says in a tone that the super can definitely hear. "Bug also can't walk up four flights of stairs, especially after a whole day of daycare. Besides these stairs look like they might crumble and drop you to the fucking basement at any second." You smack his arm and the super looks pissed off until Sukuna stomps on a particularly wobbly stair for emphasis and he looks a little nervous. No way he was letting Bug walk up this deathtrap.

He keeps a running commentary of everything he sees, none of it good on the way to the apartment. The cracks in the ceiling, the chipped the paint, the flickering light on the third floor stairwell that makes him feel like they stepped into an 80's slasher flick. On and on he goes and he doesn't stop once they're in the shithole apartment itself.

A one bedroom, not nearly enough space for two, definitely not three which makes him even more irritated at the fact he clearly hadn't factored in at all to the choice in apartment.

He's in the middle of guessing outloud if the shower head would fall on top of you in the first week or the second when you snap.

"I know it's a piece of shit, Sukuna. I'm not an idiot, I'm desperate." You are more irritated than he's ever seen and the fucking creep of a super shoots him a smirk before Sukuna turns the full force of his glare on him. The man mumbles out something about giving them time to take in the space and leaves them alone, the door closing firmly in his haste.

"I don't think you're an idiot," Sukuna says, more calm than he feels because he definitely feels a type of way about all of this. "I just don't think this place is right for you or Bug. Do you expect me to apologize for caring?"

"Is that what this is? You come here to help me and all you've done is shit on the apartment and scare that poor man half to death."

"That poor man was fucking makes eyes at you until he saw me behind you."

"I know, but he got the point when you squeezed his hand so tight I think one of his knuckles popped!"

Sukuna snorted at that and even you seemed a little amused. You sighed and leaned against the wall behind you.

"I can't live with you forever Sukuna, we need a home."

Sukuna wanted to scream, to shake you and say that he was your home. Home for both of you but he knew you weren't ready to hear it and that if he misstepped you might end up living somewhere that seemed a strong breeze away from collapse.

"It's not forever," he finally said and this was true. You would need a new place soon, just not this place. "When I say I don't mind, I mean that I like having the two of you with me." You seemed a little surprised by this admission and Sukuna weighs his next words carefully.

"You're my friend and I care about you even if I have an unconventional way of showing you." You scoff and Sukuna presses on, he can see you softening. "Just wait a little longer. This place isn't good enough for the two of you but another place might be. I'd rather you stay with me longer and find the right place instead of rushing and choosing somewhere shitty because you think you're putting me out or something."

"What guy wants some mom and her kid crashing with him for months on end," you ask and you seem almost genuinely curious.

"You're not some mom, you're you and I happen to really like that kid." You smile and Sukuna knows he's got you. "I mean as we speak she's probably putting Yuuji and his loser friends through the ringer and that's reason enough to keep her around."

"You think anything will be broken by the time we get home," you ask and he feels the clump of blood and flesh that makes up his heart squeeze just a little tighter. Home.

"Oh, definitely but that's why we're not paying them for their services." You laugh and Sukuna walks a little closer to you. You watch him, a little confused but he thinks he sees some anticipation too as he closes in on your space and puts a hand on your cheek. He leans in and he knows he's not making it up that your eyelids flutter as he gets closer.

It's tempting but when Sukuna kisses you for the first time, it's not going to be in a place like this while some scumbag is probably listening through the door.

"Let's go home," he says and he presses a gentle kiss against your cheek. You'd done the same to him many times by now and he can see the appeal when he hears your sharp intake of breath and finds himself surrounded by the smell of your shampoo.

While your quest to find an apartment was unsuccessful, Sukuna thinks that important progress was made today. It fills him with a sense of contentment that manages to sustain him even as the two of you come home to an apartment overflowing with chaos and a spiderweb of cracks across his tv.

When he goes to kick Yuuji's ass, Bug makes sure to lend her support to her poor uncle by clinging to Sukuna's leg and laughing while the two men roll around on the floor to your amusement.

Like he would ever let you leave this.

also people have been suggesting that I make a masterlist or create some sort of tags and while I know what these are(kind of), I'm also not sure the specifics so any advice on how to make this all easier to find would be appreciated! I've been creeping on tumblr for literally over a decade but never written like this before.

[not-neverland06]

Hey! Love your writing and love Flux!! I was hoping to request a kind of angsty/fluffy fic with the worst!wolverine where the meet her in the void and maybe Logan knew her just not very well and he’s finally letting himself open up and be close with her (likewise with reader/flux towards logan) and they get into an argument or maybe logan has a nightmare and he ends up stabbing her with his claws and maybe the aftermath of him beating himself up and sabotaging the new relationship until reader finally snaps him out of it and says it was an accident and she still loves him?? Thanks!!

mistake

Logan Howlett x fem!reader

a/n: I want to thank you for this request because I've been having the worst writer's block in the world. I was worried about having to go into another unofficial hiatus, but this made something in my brain click together and I knocked it out in two hours. my life is yours 🙏🙏 Summary: You know him. Or, you knew him. And you never blamed him for what happened in your world. It wasn't his fault that everyone you loved died and you barely escaped with your life. But you never actually thought you'd have to see him again. You don't know what to do when all these feelings resurface with his appearance.

No one truly knew who you were back in your universe. After the horrific incident at the mansion, you had run. You’d run as fast and as far as you could from the slaughter of your friends. You’d barely escaped with your life, and from the amount of blood and gore they’d left behind, most people just assumed you were dead. 

It’s not like anyone cared about you. Scott, Ororo, and Jean had been the real heroes. But it didn’t matter because they were still mutants at the end of the day. It didn’t matter how many people they saved. How many lives they positively changed, no one would ever see past the fact that they were mutants. 

Being one of the newer members of the recently disbanded X-Men gave you enough anonymity to get through daily life without being recognized. It did not, however, protect you from being sucked into the shit fest that is the multiverse. 

You’re not sure what it is about you that just attracts bad luck. You don’t know if it’s some hidden power that’s a part of your evolution. You’re just apparently perpetually fucked. The TVA had determined that you were interfering with the proper flow of your timeline or some bullshit. 

Now you’re here. Stuck in the void with nothing but decay and drunk former superheroes. If you have to watch one more Captain America ‘rally the troops’ you’re gonna kill him yourself. You’ve considered switching teams and joining Cassandra Nova at times. If only so you don’t have to deal with Johnny Storm and the rest of the dipshits. 

You get along with Laura, at least. She likes to tell you about her Logan and you like to dodge her questions about yours. She doesn’t need to know that not every version of Wolverine has a golden heart and story worthy of tears. Yours was a fuck up, plain and simple, but you never thought the incident was his fault. 

As much as others tried to push the blame on him. The people who raided the mansion were determined. There was no other way that day was going to end up. You’d just have one less X-Man. But people always love a martyr more than a victim. 

After a couple of years, you get used to the monotony. Your days are only occasionally broken up by dodging Cassandra’s henchmen and trying not to get sucked up into the soul destroyer. Other than that, you spend your nights getting drunk with Gambit and pretending you know whatever the fuck he’s talking about. 

“Laura! I managed to find some chocolate!” You run into the hideout looking for the girl. It’s rare to find good food that isn’t already a month past its expiration date. You weren’t planning on sharing the candy with her but you figured she’d smell it on you and it’s not worth the fight. 

Instead, you stop short as the familiar blue and yellow uniform you’d always try to force on him comes into view. He’s stealing Gambit’s liquor and you know that’s not going to go over well. What you don’t know is why you are so sure that this is your Wolverine. 

You’ve never had a Wolverine in the void. Not once. This could be any one of the hundreds of thousands of variants. But you see that look in his eye. That familiar watery gaze shows just how much he hurts, even if he doesn’t want to admit it. 

“Logan?” You breathe his name out in disbelief. Bypassing the Deadpool standing nearby. You’ve dealt with enough of those in your time down here. He takes a step back, fixing you with a distrusting look. 

He keeps the bottle of alcohol clutched close to his chest like he thinks you’re going to take it. You track the movement and you scoff. “Right,” you shake your head and stop short. “Of course, the only thing you care about is still getting fucking drunk.”

He glares at you, taking a step forward like he thinks it might actually intimidate you. “Do I know you, bub?” He reaches forward, probably to jab his finger in your chest. You drop your gaze to his outstretched hand and narrow your eyes. 

The material of his suit fluctuates, pulling back and rippling over his arms like liquid and not spandex. He doesn’t notice the manipulation of matter until it's his skin you target. It melts off his adamantium bones and he stares down in horror. 

You know he's scared because he’s watching his body dissolve but he’s not feeling any pain. You could make it hurt, but that’s not what you want. You just want to see if he’ll remember you now. If there’s anything half-decent left in that alcohol-rotted brain of his.

“Flux,” he grits your X-Man name out through his teeth like it hurts him to say it. 

You nod and his skin and suit go back to normal, like you’d never tampered with it in the first place. “You do remember me, then?”

“Thought you fucking died with the rest of them.” Your face drops before you feel an astonished smile on your face. 

“You know, it’s a comfort to know nothing about my world has changed. You’re still the same spineless dick that left us all to die.” You shake your head and storm out of the hideout. You don’t know how long they’re planning on staying but you pray they leave soon. If you have to deal with him longer than a week, you’ll just kill him. 

You step outside just as Laura’s coming back from the bonfire. She greets you with a stiff smile and you wonder what’s got in her in a mood. It only takes a glance over her shoulder to find the reason.

Logan is sulking by the fire, nursing yet another bottle of whiskey. He’s drinking it like water and even with his healing, his liver should have turned to mush by now. “I can see why you didn’t tell me about him,” she mutters as she passes by you. 

You know she tried to be quiet but you can see the way Logan’s head tilts slightly towards you. He’s heard her and you know it has to sting just a little.

You glance down at the leaves under your feet, eyes glazing over as you feel the guilt sink into your stomach. You shouldn’t feel bad, you didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t hurt him, technically, just reminded him who you were. But you still feel bad for what you said. 

You’ve never blamed Logan for what happened. And if you did, you would be a hypocrite. Because you survived too, and you left them all behind. You ran like a coward. You could never blame him when you failed to save them just the same. 

You take in a deep breath and steel yourself. You’ll just apologize, walk over there, and explain to him you didn’t mean what you said. You know he’ll be a dick about it. Claiming he doesn’t want your apology. You’ll just leave him alone after. 

You’re about to step forward when he barks out a gruff command, “Don’t fucking stare at me like that. I don’t want your company.” He turns back to the fire and takes another swig from his bottle. 

You roll your eyes and walk towards him. “You can be as miserable and self-pitying as you want, just let me say one thing.”

His head whips towards you so quickly you’re surprised you don’t hear it snap. “I’m not fucking pitying myself,” he grits out. You quirk your brows in amusement, glancing towards the bottle in his hand and the clear way he’s sulking. He turns his attention back towards the fire, intent on ignoring you again. 

“I don’t blame you for what happened,” you tell him. You ignore the warning look he shoots you, taking a seat beside him even if he doesn’t want you to. “I-” you choke on the words, struggling to admit to yourself what you’ve never wanted to. 

“Don’t.” You know it’s meant to be a warning. But when you look at him and see how completely broken he is, it sounds more like a pathetic plead. 

But you need to say this. As selfish as it is, you need to say this to someone., Need to unload this guilt you’ve carried for so long. “I was there, Logan. I could have saved them and I didn’t. I fucking ran.”

“Kid, don’t do this-”

“Jean was still moving,” you blurt out. You feel the way your heart speeds up at the admission. Your fingers shake and the air around you stills. 

His face drops and he slowly turns towards you. You’re afraid to look at him. You feel like a bunny staring down the snout of a wolf, there’s no escaping this. You’ve created this trap for yourself. 

“What?” He demands. His voice has lost that tremor of vulnerability. Instead, he sounds like he did when he first found out what had happened to you all. That same deadly level of calm that makes you want to bolt again. 

“She,” you stare into the fire until your eyes burn. You don’t know if it’s from the light or the smoke but the pain focuses you. “She was shaking on the floor. There was blood everywhere and she could barely breathe. They had gassed us with something. None of us could use our powers, it’s the only reason they got a one-up on us.”

You can feel yourself slipping back into that moment. You feel the warmth of the blood on your skin. It seeps into your suit and makes the material cling to you. Your gut is split open and the only thing holding your intestines in is your hands. 

Jean is in front of you. Her hands are twitching by her sides. There’s blood pouring out of her lips, dribbling down her tongue and cheeks. Every breath is a rattle so deep you feel it in your bones. 

Each inhale sounds like someone dragging glass through the membrane of her lungs. Her chest rises and sinks shallowly as she gasps for air. She’s practically convulsing, eyes twitching every which way.

The gas has faded from the halls. The people have left, satisfied with the carnage. You’re alone, surrounded only by the blood and bodies of your friends. None of the others are moving. Some of them are so mangled you can’t even tell who they are anymore. 

Jean’s eyes lock onto yours. The only anchor she has. And you can see it, the frantic, wounded animal gaze on her face. She knows she’s dying. She knows there’s nothing she can do about it. 

You can only stand by and watch as your friend dies. You could be her comfort. You could be the last face she sees before she dies, distracting her from the sight of her dead fiancee behind her. 

But what do you do?

You hold your guts in your stomach and you run. You can’t look at her. You can’t look at any of them. You can hear her croaking behind you. And even when you’re out of the mansion, when you’re in a hospital somewhere getting repaired and Logan’s on a rampage, you still hear her. 

You feel something heavy on your arm and it’s like you're being forcibly dragged out of a trance. Logan’s looking at you with something you’ve never seen before. But it’s something you’ve always desperately craved. 

It’s like he’s seeing you, really seeing you. For the first time in a long time, you feel that ache of guilt ease away ever so slightly. It doesn’t disappear, but you’re sharing the burden with someone else and it’s a relief you’ve desperately craved. 

“You’re not a bad person for leaving, kid.” He swallows roughly and you place your hand over his. He doesn’t look completely comfortable with the touch, slightly flinching away from it, but he doesn’t move. “If you hadn’t, you would be dead.”

You squeeze his hand, forcing him to meet your gaze. “I never blamed you for what happened.” emotion is so thick on your tongue and in your throat that the words come out a whisper. “Their deaths weren’t your fault, and what happened after wasn’t.”

He clenches his eyes shut and jerks his hand out of your grip. You sigh, knowing you’ve lost him. “I slaughtered them.”

You scoff, “They slaughtered us!” You nearly shout, anger bubbling hot in your gut. When you heard about him killing those who had hunted down your friends, you’d celebrated. And when you heard the way the public was crucifying him, you realized that no matter what you did they would never love you. 

You would always be nothing more than a mutant to them. 

“And the people who didn’t hurt them? The innocents I killed?” 

You don’t have anything to say to that. You just stand up, placing a hand on his shoulder as you pass by him. “I never blamed you, Logan.”

You don’t see Logan again after that. At least, not while you’re in the void. What was left of your little resistance was sucked up into the purple cloud of death. Only you and Laura are left with the carnage. 

Logan and Wade have disappeared to who knows where. It stings, to be on your own again. Sure, you have Laura, but she’ll never understand the pain of what happened to your universe. 

As much as it hurt, at least with Logan, you had someone to share the pain with. You could share your burden with him. You feel lonely and cold. Like there’s a part of you missing. You finally figure out what that ache is when the TVA comes to collect you and you see him again. 

He’s standing behind Wade as he enthusiastically tells you and Larua all about his world. But you can’t take your eyes off Logan, or the tentative smile on his face. Whatever had happened during that fight with Cassandra Nova had changed him, for the better. 

You smile back at him and it feels like taking a breath of fresh air after years. 

Apparently, whoever this world’s Flux had been, she was fucking insanely rich. And dead, which sucked for her but was great for you and Logan. 

It’s not hard for you to fake some government identities and explain that you’d been mistakenly marked as dead. It’s apparently pretty common in this universe. Superheroes are blipped out of existence all the time. You couldn’t get all of her assets as some had been liquidated, but you did get her giant ass house. 

You let Logan and Laura stay with you until they decide where they want to go. It’s better than living with Wade and his coke-fiend roommate. Laura finds her groove pretty quickly, it is her world after all. But you and Logan struggle to figure out what to do with yourselves. 

Neither of you has an interest in being X-Men again, and it seems like they’re not incredibly present in this world either. You also hadn’t been the best of friends, even before everything went wrong, back home. 

You’re not strangers, you’re not friends, you’re that awkward place in between. Each day is another opportunity to get to know each other. The progress might be slow, but you know that you’re getting closer to something real. 

It’s why you don’t feel any qualms about running into his room when you hear him shouting. You burst into his room and the door slamming against the wall isn’t even enough to wake him up. 

He’s writhing around in the bed, sheets twisted around his waist while sweat beads down his forehead. The noises he’s making remind you of a wounded animal. There’s something heartbreaking about this. 

He doesn’t get peace even when he’s sleeping. It makes you hurt for him. You want to smooth over the aches and pains he carries and burden yourself with them. 

The thought snaps you out of your reverie and you’re shocked by the revelation. You’d been growing closer to him, but you hadn’t thought you were growing this close. You feel so strongly for him, but you’re not ready to put a name on what it is that you feel for him. You just know that right now you want to make him feel better. 

You approach the bed cautiously, taking a seat beside him. The bed ripples and jolts underneath you as he tosses and turns. You place a gentle hand on his arm and shake, “Logan,” you whisper. You don’t want to startle him too bad. 

But he’s not responding to anything. It doesn’t matter how much you shake him or call out his name. Finally, you can’t handle it anymore. You get on your knees, sitting over him and bringing your palm down across his face as hard as you can. 

In a second he’s shooting up. You don’t even notice his hand until you see the way his vision clears. The visceral panic fades and something is aching in your gut. “Oh god, no no no,” he says the word so many times it stops sounding real. 

You look down and see the blood dribbling down his palm, the claws buried in your stomach. It’s almost funny, how perfectly aligned they are with the scar that already lived there. The reminder of your friend’s death being erased and reformed by Logan’s hand. 

He pulls his wrist back and you quickly snatch it up. “Don’t!” You shout, jaw clenching against the pain. “Don’t pull them out, I’ll just bleed out.”

“What the fuck am I supposed to do?” You know he’s worried, that’s why he snaps at you. But it doesn’t help the way you feel yourself fighting back tears.

He sees them drip down your cheeks and his face drops. His other hand, the one not in you, comes up and cradles your cheek. “What do I do?” He whispers, and he sounds more desperate than you do. 

You know he doesn’t want another death on his hands. But there’s something beyond that. He doesn’t want to be the reason you stop breathing. There’s a startling clarity when you’re slowly dying. 

He cares about you. Just as deeply as you do for him. You can’t make him go through this pain again. Can’t let him suffer alone, not when he’s made so much progress. “Slowly,” you tell him, guiding his claws out inch by inch. 

It’s hard not to black out. You’d barely felt it when he’d gotten you the first time. You think it’s because of how fast and sudden it was. But this, having them oh so slowly slicing through your insides is the worst form of torture. 

But you don’t heal like him. You have to close your eyes, focus on the pain, and forcibly reknit your skin back together. It’s a clever manipulation of your powers, but it’s a slow one. You could never take serious damage on the field because you wouldn’t be fast enough to repair yourself. 

This is easy to repair. But that doesn’t make it hurt less. It feels like an hour before he can safely draw them the rest of the way out. The second he does, you’re sinking into his arms with a pained sob. 

He clutches you so tightly to his chest you worry your back might snap. He keeps muttering apologies into your hair, hands desperately grasping at every inch of you he can hold. You’re too tired to say anything. 

You realized you should have. You should have told him you don’t blame him. You were the one who snuck into his room. You should have been smarter. But it doesn’t matter how many times you tell Logan not to blame himself, he always will. And you were too tired to try anyway. 

You only realize what’s happening two days after the incident. You figured he might need some space to process what happened. And honestly, you did too. It was awful and incredibly draining. You’ve felt fatigued ever since. 

But when you try and approach him and he just brushes past you like you weren’t even there, you know something is wrong. You watch his retreating back with a disturbed glare. You connect the dots quickly, already knowing what he’s doing. 

He doesn’t want to be responsible for hurting another person he loves. He can’t handle a loss like that again, even if it’s not by his hands. He wants to make sure you don’t want him, that you don’t care for him. Like that might ease the pain and guilt. 

But it wouldn’t. It would just make him feel worse. It would make you feel worse. 

You don’t waste a second, following him up the stairs and barging into his room before he can slam the door shut. It bounces off the wall and he lets out a deeply irritated sigh. He doesn’t turn to look at you, just walks over to his nightstand and rummages around through the doors.

You know he’s not looking for anything. He’s just trying to ignore you long enough for you to give up. It’s not going to happen, he should know better. 

You take a step further into the room and the smell of chemicals slams into you. Your nose wrinkles in disgust. It smells like he pumped Lysol into the vents. Your eyes dart to the bed and you sigh. 

Your blood, you’d completely forgotten. He must have been cleaning it up the morning after. You can’t blame him for wanting to get rid of the remainder. But this seems excessive. 

“Strong nose,” he mutters. You hadn’t realized you’d spoken aloud and you glanced over at him. “I can still smell it, even after cleaning.” He takes a seat on the bed and you hate the way his shoulders are slumped. 

He’d seemed so much more comfortable with himself lately. It’s like one accident has undone all his progress. “Logan,” you start, taking a step towards him. He holds his hand up, still not looking at you. 

It’s driving you insane. You wish he would just meet your eyes. You feel like you could change his mind if he would just see you. Maybe that’s why he won’t. He won’t let himself be happy. 

“Look, that night just made me realize what a huge fucking mistake this was.” He gets up and slides something out from under the bed. It takes a moment for you to register what it is. A duffel bag, packed with all his essentials and what little clothes he owns. 

He’s going to leave.

You act without thinking. Pure panic making your powers surge out. Logan grunts and the bag falls out of his hand. “Quit it,” he snipes, bending over to pick it up. But he can’t because it’s so heavy it’s making the wooden floor splinter and crack under its weight. 

“You don’t get to just leave when things get hard, Logan.”

He stands up, hands propped on his sides. There’s a challenge in his eyes that makes you nervous. “Fuck this,” he scoffs and brushes past you. 

It’s beyond manipulative to use your powers against him. But sometimes, someone is such a fucking idiot, they need a little outside help. You slam the door closed and the handle disappears, locking you both in his room. 

He turns towards you with a fierce glare on his face. “Open the goddamn door before I break it down.”

“You can try,” you taunt, a nasty tone to your voice. You’re sick of this. You’re sick of running from what you want. You’ve been miserable and alone for years. You want to be happy. For the first time in forever, you want something. 

And you want Logan to be happy with you. You can’t force him to feel the way you do. But you can stop him from actively preventing this. “Stop acting like a goddamn child and just talk to me!” You shout at him. 

There’s a disbelieving look on your face. You don’t understand why he won’t let this happen. Why does he have to fight so hard against any semblance of happiness in his life?

“I’m going to hurt you. That is all I do. I hurt the people I love and I cannot hurt you too.” Your eyes widen in shock at his outburst. Beyond anger, there was so much fear in his voice it was almost enough to make you miss what he’d said. 

“You love me?” You can see the realization dawn on him. The fact that he let slip why he’s so hesitant to be around you. You know he wants to leave, his eyes are darting around the room for an escape route, but you’ve blocked them all. You can’t let this go, not now. 

“Logan,” you snap, demanding an answer from him. 

“Fuck you,” he mutters, something vicious on his face. 

He’s going to hurt you. He’s going to lash out and say something cruel so that this doesn’t happen. You know him because you’ve been him. He will take every possible route to get out of this if it means he doesn’t have to face his feelings. 

You roll your eyes and take a step forward. You jerk him towards you and throw yourself on him before he can say something stupid. The kiss is brief, just enough to snap him out of this ridiculous headspace he’s in. 

When you pull back he looks dazed, but he’s relaxed in your hold, sinking towards you. You grin up at him, “I love you too, dumbass.” You lean up to kiss him again but you dart back at the last second, a mean glare on your face. “Pull some shit like this again and I’m going to melt your dick off.” 

You kiss him before he can respond, but you feel the smile against your lips. You can taste the defeat on his tongue as he wraps his arms around you and tugs you into his chest. He’s not going to push you away and you’re not going to let him. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always @corvusmorte  

@mrs-ephemeral  @wolviesgirl @allllium  ♡ 

[ryukatters]

swipe right — k. bakugo x fem! reader

✮ a/n: i remember seeing a post on here a long time ago about a character making a fake tinder profile for their gf and realizing how many people want her. (if someone knows the OG post please lmk so i can link it!) so now i present to you: bakugo falling to his knees in the middle of your apartment bedroom for the exact same reason.

✮ content/warnings: dubcon, quirkless/college! au, jealousy, possessiveness, breeding, creampie, unprotected sex, cum eating, cunnilingus, overstimulation, praise, biting, bkg gets a little rough with you, and bkg's also a fucking simp but when do I ever write him as being otherwise??

✮ summary: your boyfriend decides to make a fake tinder profile for you just to see how many matches you get. he comes to a realization just how many other people want what’s already his.

✮ word count: 4.2k (i'm so sick)

Bakugo can remember how this all started. In very vivid detail, actually. He remembers because Kaminari had pissed him off so much to the extent that it took him a very substantial amount of effort to refrain from bashing his friend’s face in.

It all started during the last monthly hangout amongst Bakugo and his friends— one day out of the month designated to make sure that they all had time to catch up with one another despite their busy schedules.

Everything was normal, with all of them getting more than enough of their fill of food and alcohol while idly playing video games and talking about random topics to fill in the silence in Kaminari’s living room. 

Perfectly normal, until Denki decided to open his stupid mouth, at least. 

He goes off on a tangent about a trend he saw on social media where someone makes a fake Tinder profile for their partner to see how many matches they’d get. He proceeds to tell Bakugo that he should try doing it, for “funsies,”— to which Bakugo scoffs at. 

“Aren’t you curious, Kacchan?” Kaminari smiles cheekily, wrapping an arm around his blond friend’s shoulders, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Bakugo’s becoming visibly more upset with every passing moment. 

“Your girlfriend is really pretty,” Mina chimes in, sticking her tongue out when Katsuki whips his head to glare at her. “I’m still surprised she’s with a grump like you.” 

Kaminari butts in, “I bet there’s a whole line of guys around the block just waiting for a chance to get with her. I mean, just look at her! Hell, I’d even let her peg m—”

For a moment, Bakugo swears he wants to bash Kaminari’s face into his flatscreen. And for a moment, he lets that impulsive thought win— getting up and grabbing two fistfuls of Denki’s shirt before promptly getting cut off by Kirishima.

“Alright alright,” Kirishima forcibly pries Bakugo off of the other blond, pushing him off to the side. “That’s enough, you two. Kaminari was just messing around. I’ll admit, it wasn’t a good joke, but no need to hurt the guy, okay Bakugo?” 

Kirishima knows that Kaminari wasn’t being that serious, but Kirishima can also admit that what he had to say held some ounce of truth. And Kirishima knows Bakugo well enough to see how your boyfriend tends to be rather skittish and protective with matters concerning you— which is exactly why Eijiro had to stop him before it was too late. He really didn’t feel like preparing for Denki’s funeral or helping hide Katsuki escape from a homicide charge.

And that was that…up until a few minutes ago.

Katsuki’s tried to forget that conversation. But try as he might, his mind betrays him and can’t help but wander back to what Denki said that night.

He trusts you of course, and has complete faith in your relationship. However, he’s curious to a fault, just about perhaps too curious for his own good. 

How badly could this end?

As it turns out, this whole scheme seems to be playing out very poorly. 

Dozens of photos of you— screenshotted from your social media accounts— fill Katsuki’s screen. He had to choose photos you uploaded yourself, because most of his photos of you were either too…suggestive or too domestic (and he wants to be the only one to see you in those moments).

He swipes through “your” profile one last time before clicking “done” to officially put you on the market. And just like that, Bakugo’s met with the faces of men who are nowhere near your level. He goes through the batch of profiles, scrutinizing each one he comes across. He’s (un)surprisingly selective with the ones he chooses to swipe right on— making sure that they’re at least somewhat conventionally attractive. To his surprise (or dread, rather), his phone pings right away with a notification from someone who swiped back. Another ping. A message. 

You free tonight? 

Bakugo scoffs. He looks through the guy’s profile— a picture of him at a party with his arms around some girls, another with him doing a victory pose presumably after hiking, and one with him holding a fish. He feels his mouth curl in disgust, about to give into the urge to reply and give this guy a piece of his mind, before he realizes he’s pretending to be you. He takes a deep breath, closes out of the app, and puts down his phone. 

He’s starting to regret this.

Bakugo’s phone has gone off 15 times in the last hour. Bakugo has also felt the need to strangle some stranger through the phone 15 times in the last hour. Your (read: his) profile has existed for less than 60 minutes, and you already have a whole address book of nobodies trying to link with you and get a quick fuck. 

He feels the familiar beginnings of a headache creeping up the back of his skull. He thinks he might need a drink. Why did he decide to do this again?

In hindsight, he probably should have known this is exactly how it was going to go down. 

What was that saying? Curiosity killed the cat?

Yeah.

He was never great at self-preservation in the first place. So this, the feeling of overwhelming jealousy, frustration, possessiveness brewing up a storm threatening to pour out of every single fiber of Bakugo’s being— was no surprise.

He watches as the numbers at the bottom of his screen increase steadily, before tapping on the star icon. 

‘99+ likes!’ it reads. Over 99 people who saw your profile and thought you were beautiful. Bakugo pales, and he can feel the cold sweat building on the nape of his neck. He grips his phone, knuckles turning white. Is he shaking from anger or nervousness?

Anger because all these guys think they even have the slightest chance with someone as amazing as you. Nervousness because what if you decide that they do? You wouldn’t actually leave him for one of these guys, right? Right?

None of these men would walk through hell and back for you. They don’t know how you like your coffee, the details of your skin care routine, how you like to binge watch shows and talk Katsuki’s ear off about them (not that he ever minded, of course). They don’t know you, not like he does. Katsuki looks at you like you hung the moon. In fact, he’s pretty convinced that you did. Everything good in his life— the warmth, the color, the joy,— is encompassed by you. He’d be damned if he lets some greasy little nobody take that from him. Because the moment Bakugo fell in love with you, you became a part of him— inextricably and indefinitely. Loving you has become so intrinsic to him, that even the mere thought of another person loving you or looking at you the same way he does has him going insane. Not that anyone could love you like he did, though. That thought brings him some comfort, but not for long. 

One last notification he sees sends him spiraling. Bakugo swears that he can see red. That’s when he deletes the app, and throws his poor phone in some random corner of the living room, which is markedly one of the smarter choices he’s made as of late. He marches to your bedroom with a fire burning in his chest. 

He stops short of the door and finds you sitting at the edge of your shared bed, fresh out of the shower. You’re applying lotion, and he watches the cream absorb into your skin wordlessly, in awe at how overwhelmingly beautiful you manage to look in the most prosaic of tasks. For a second, he almost forgets the reason he was upset in the first place.  

Your hair is still damp, water droplets accumulating at the tips, and Katsuki feels his mouth run dry the minute he watches a stray bead fall and make its way down your neck and stop perfectly in the dip of your collarbone. Your very existence is forever etched into his heart, every inch of you carved into his memory, but even still he can never get tired of looking at you. At every angle, in every lighting, he needs to see you in it. You could call him obsessed, but he’d simply laugh and agree, because what’s so wrong with that? Especially if it’s you. 

You’re one to be studied— to be adored, Katsuki thinks, to the greatest capacity. It’s what you deserve. And what better person for that task to fall upon than him?

He finds himself naturally gravitating towards you, his finger tracing the same exact path the water had carved just moments before, wordlessly. You try to pay no mind, but it’s difficult as you realize just how close Bakugo was and how your towel barely manages to cover up your most intimate parts. One wrong move and you’d be exposed. With how things were playing out, and the predatory glint in the blond’s eyes, you don’t think your boyfriend would be too perturbed with your current predicament. 

Katsuki presses a delicate kiss to your forehead before he crouches down. Suddenly, you’re at eye level with one another, his hot breath tickling your lips. You think for a moment he’s going to kiss you so you lean forward, lips waiting. But he merely grazes them before he sucks a deep bruise into the juncture of your neck, biting slightly. 

You’re barely given any time to react before he’s grabbing the hand that’s securing your towel and ripping it away, the offending garment falling off your body. Your flesh prickles with goosebumps as its exposed to the sudden chill.  It’s quickly replaced by the heat of Bakugo’s body as he pushes you lightly, your back hitting the mattress. He crawls on top of you, muscular thighs on either side of your hips, your head placed conveniently between his forearms. He’s trapped you, a nonverbal challenge for you to try and escape. 

You’re a work of art, he thinks, but much more valuable than any pièce de résistance framed in any museum. 

Beautiful, yes, but far too blank for his liking. He wants to ruin you, make you his own personal magnum opus. And so he does. 

He presses a clothed knee against your bare cunt, pressing firmly. His lips continue their assault on your neck, leaving angry purpling bruises in their wake. Rough hands find your breast, and you moan in surprise when he gives both of them a harsh squeeze as he shoves his tongue into your mouth. Katsuki kisses you like a man dying of thirst, hungry for everything you can offer him and more. It’s all too much already, the way he’s kissing you has your mind reeling, and you have to turn your head away for a moment to catch your breath. Katsuki thinks it’s a moment too long without you, so he coaxes you into locking lips with him once more. A wave of mischievousness washes over you, prompting you to take your boyfriend’s lower lip in between your teeth, biting down lightly. 

You feel his breath hitch, before he lets out a low groan as he grinds his clothed dick against your bare wetness. He returns the favor, sucking on your bottom lip before letting it go with a wet pop. He pulls back with a lazy smirk, his lips pursing together to scatter messy kisses down the base of your throat and down your chest, alternating between sucking and biting at the flesh. 

He gives you a good once-over, scanning every surface, committing them to memory. You feel the need to curl into yourself with how intensely those vermillion eyes are piercing into you, memorizing every single curve, scar, freckle like he’s done time and time again. 

He drops down to his knees, broad shoulders bullying their way in between your legs, forcibly prying them open. He grips your hips, fingertips digging into the soft flesh, and drags you down the mattress until your legs are dangling off the bed.

“Jesus, Kats, be more gentle.”

“Shhh. I know you like it when I’m not gentle,” he chuckles. As if to prove a point, he pulls you down even further, giving a harsh bite to your inner thigh. He smiles deviously when you yelp. You try to pull at his hair but his reflexes are too quick, pinning both of your wrists down on either side of you easily. “Besides, this is the perfect height for me to eat you out, dontcha think baby?” 

You want to chastise him for being so crass, so Katsuki, but the words die on the tip of your tongue the minute he gives a sweet, loving kiss to your clit, sucking lightly. 

“You’re mine. I don’t want anyone else seeing you like this except for me.” 

You’re not entirely sure what brought this on, but you find it hard to complain when Bakugo drags his tongue from your throbbing clit to inside your pussy, drinking everything you have to offer. 

Your hands automatically try to find purchase in his blond locks, struggling against the vice grip Katsuki has on your wrists. He decides to take pity on you, loosening his hold so you can slip your hands into his hair, moaning appreciatively when he feels you tug. He rewards you by flicking his tongue on your clit over and over again, just the way you like it. He does it until your moans begin to pitch higher and higher, the same way that they do when you’re close. He doesn’t stop his ministrations even after you cum, riding out your orgasm until your thighs are shaking from overstimulation. He pulls away from you with a loud pop, taking in the sight before him. 

He runs a hand up and down your thigh soothingly. “So fucked out already and we’re barely getting started, baby.”

Your mind is barely processing his words before you feel Katsuki’s erection brush against your stomach, his clothing haphazardly discarded on the floor. He taps the head of his dick against your clit to tease you, a feeling of satisfaction swelling when you cry out from under him.  

He watches in fascination as strings of your arousal cling to him. He positions his length at your entrance, locking eyes with you as you hold your breath in anticipation. Katsuki likes you like this. Needy for him. 

 “You’re the most beautiful girl in the world, you know that?” He slips into you with a stuttered groan. 

Katsuki’s always been big. You never get used to the initial stretch, no matter how many times you two fuck. Still, that doesn’t stop him from sliding in with ease from the slick of your last orgasm. It easily coats his cock as he gives a few experimental thrusts. He groans in rapture. How do you manage to feel so good every time? It’s enough to drive him insane. Perhaps he already is. 

“So fucking perfect, no wonder why all those losers want you.” He mutters out the last part, and you’re not sure if you caught that right. 

“What?” He chooses not to respond, and you aren’t given the opportunity to think any further before your legs are thrown over his shoulders, Katsuki’s weight effectively pinning you in place. The stretch knocks all the wind out of your lungs, and all you can do is cling to Katsuki, nails leaving red, angry lines on his well-defined back.

He wastes no time before he starts drilling into you, hips slotting in between your legs perfectly. The position has him pressed against your clit, and your entire body feels like it’s been set ablaze, with Katsuki holding both the power to have it burn even brighter and the ability to extinguish it. And you’re almost there, you can feel your soul slowly ascending, your room filled with hymns of pleasure, the coil in your stomach winding tighter and tighter, threatening to unravel along with your sanity. Katsuki can feel it too— the way you’re squeezing him tighter, how your gasps and moans have climbed just a note higher, how absolutely ruined you look, how he’s responsible for your current state. Which is exactly why he wants to push it even further, he wants to see how much you’ll break for him— and only him. 

Katsuki cuts you off right before you can reach your peak, pulling out but making sure just his tip is inserted. You come to and take a look at your lover and marvel at the sight. He has a crazed look in his eyes. The way he smirks is absolutely wicked. 

You feel distraught— having been so close but having it ripped away from you. You give your boyfriend a petulant pout.

“Katsuki,” you whine, slapping a hand against his sweaty chest, “Why’d you stop? I was so close!”

“Because I didn’t want you to cum yet,” he says simply. “You’ll be good for me, yeah? I’ll give my baby what she deserves, as long as she’s good.” 

You roll your eyes, huffing. That won’t do for him.

As much as he loves seeing you indulge, he feels a need to punish you— at least a little bit to even begin to atone for being the wicked temptress you are. 

“Don’t be a fuckin’ brat,” Bakugo growls, gripping your face with one hand, squishing your cheeks, causing your lips to purse slightly. “I said be good, okay? Wanna take my time with you.” 

There’s a moment of respite, until you sigh in defeat, knowing better than to argue with him lest you wanted to dig your own grave. “‘Kay, ‘ki.”

He flashes you a smile. Obedient, just how he likes you. “Good girl.”

Katsuki draws his hips back, thrusting just enough to fuck his tip into you. He’s teasing. The amount of willpower on his end it takes not to cum is nauseating. 

“You’re so pretty, aren’t you?” he rasps, one hand finding their way around your neck, squeezing just enough to make your head spin. Your hands reflexively grab his wrist. 

All you can manage is a fucked out moan. Katsuki has to resist the urge to coo, about how he’s managed to turn you into a cockdrunk mess in such a short matter of time. The wave of possessiveness that’s been gnawing at the depths of his soul begins to seep out, and he’s reminded of the reason why the two of you are in this position in the first place. 

He gives your throat another squeeze and a rough slap to your clit. “C’mon princess, answer me. Say it.” He slowly adds more and more pressure until your ears grow hot and air feels like a precious commodity. 

“I-i’m pretty,” you manage to gasp out, tears spilling from your lash line as you begin to lose yourself between the space of pleasure and pain. 

Good. Always so pliant for him.

“That’s right, baby,” he concedes. “So fuckin’ beautiful.” He punctuates the last word with a deep thrust, right against that spongy spot that feels so good. You’re so sensitive that it’s enough to send you spiraling into your second orgasm, walls spasming around him uncontrollably. 

Katsuki stills, staving off his own release with all the restraint he can summon. He silently thanks whatever divine forces are out there that he didn’t cum the minute he felt the first clench of your orgasm. 

He grits his teeth as he wills himself to move, trying not to get lost in the wetness that envelops him. You’re babbling now, senseless moans filling Katsuki’s ears like a sweet melody. 

“Kats, please, I’m too sensitive—” You’re shaking now, muscles trembling with every thrust. 

“But I’m not done with you yet,” he says simply, drawing his hips back with a particularly rough thrust. You choke back whatever you were going to say with a loud cry. “What’s your color, baby?”

You take a moment to answer, brain trying to comprehend the words just uttered to you. You look at Katsuki firmly, “Green.”

“Atta girl,” he praises, the drive of his hips beginning to shallow. He’s close, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold out. But for you, he tries. “You’re mine, right?”

“Yes,” you breathe out, shivering as goosebumps dance across your skin. 

“Say it,” Katsuki pleads, thrusts growing sloppy by the second. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m all yours, ‘ki.” 

With that, Katsuki’s fate is sealed. He’s left groaning as a flash of pleasure shakes his very soul, filling you up with so much cum that it dribbles onto the mattress even while he’s still inside you. You follow suit, an embarrassingly obscene rhythm of squelching noises fill the silence as you spasm around his dick. He collapses on top of you, but he’s still coherent enough to not dump all his weight on you. 

Your labored breaths fill the room as the two of you come to. Katsuki pulls out of you with a wince, still a bit sensitive. He gives you a peck on the lips before he drags himself down, settling in between your legs much like he was earlier. 

You tense up, “Kats, wait—”

Any and all protests cease the moment Bakugo works his tongue inside of you, slurping lewdly as he drags out the mixture of your cum and his, swallowing. He tries not to stimulate your puffy clit in an attempt to be merciful, but you still feel yourself steadily climbing to what would be your fourth orgasm this session. While the past three have been intense and drowning, this one comes to you in waves, dull pleasure invading your senses as Katsuki continues to eat you out to clean you up. 

He pulls away when you finish, your slick and his saliva coating his chin before he wipes it off on the back of his hand. You stare at his half-hard erection with a half concerned, half quizzical look. “Do you…” you lick your lips, “need help with that? I’m a little sensitive down there  but I could use my mout—”

“Nah, I’m good babe,” he says earnestly, flashing you a smile that he only ever shows around you. “I’ll be back.” With that, your boyfriend leaves the room only to come back with a bottle of water. 

“Drink.” You comply, finishing half the bottle graciously before handing it to him. He downs the rest before he settles next to you on the bed, laying on his side. You mirror him, shifting your body so that you’re both facing each other. 

Katsuki reaches out, finger idly tracing random shapes and lines onto the bare skin on your hip. He has a pensive look on his face, one that he usually doesn’t hold after stolen moments like this; it’s an expression he wears when he’s in deep thought. 

“Baby,” you call out. His eyes snap to yours, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah?”

“Whatcha thinking about?” You watch as a hesitant look flashes across your boyfriend’s face before he shakes his head.

“S’nothin’. Just thinkin’ about us two.” He speaks lightly. It’s always been difficult for him to voice his inner thoughts and feelings, so he tends to beat around the bush. You’ve learned that if you ever want something out of him, you’d have to pry a little. Katsuki always indulges you though. 

“What about us?”

“Do you- do you think you’ll ever get tired of this?” He repeats himself, clearing his throat. The question is followed by a weaker, “...of me?”

You think it’s the most ridiculous question he’s ever asked, because the answer should be obvious. “I’d never get tired of you, Katsuki. I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” he replies automatically, “but if I ever do anything that upsets you, or if I get too much for you, or if I—” he’s rambling now. Yes, it’s difficult for Katsuki to talk about his feelings, but once you manage to get him to open up, all the walls of his self-made fortress come crashing down and it’s up to you to pick up the pieces. 

“Baby,” you giggle, pressing a kiss to his lips, cupping his sharp jaw with one hand. “Look at me.” And he does— ruby eyes meeting yours. “I love you because you’re you. And I choose to be with you everyday. It’s not always gonna be perfect, no relationship is. But I know that I will always wake up and choose you.” 

You can see the anxiety melt away from Katsuki’s body, shoulders slumping as he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

“Love you too, sap,” is all he says before he’s pulling you against his chest, squeezing you into a bearhug. You two stay that way until both of you are lulled to sleep. 

You’re laying in bed with Katsuki, both of you dozing off when you hear a slight buzz from your phone on the nightstand. You squint as you try to read the notification, and make out that it’s from your friend.

Denki Kaminari: So did it work?

You bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing, giving a quick glance over your shoulder to check on your boyfriend— fast asleep. You turn back to your phone, your thumbs making quick work at your keyboard. 

You: Just like I said it would. Thanks Denki :)

Writing belongs to @ryukatters. Please do not share my work on Tiktok.

[ladadiida]

𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐣𝐢 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐬𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐩𝐞𝐞𝐤)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 as much as you wanted to stay by his side, you couldn't bear the thought of watching him fall in love with other women while you're stuck at the kitchen washing dishes and measuring ingredients. so you dreamt of leaving, of traveling to different islands to share your lovely songs and tunes; but the more your desire to leave grows, the more sanji finds himself drowning in your warmth. or, you and sanji over the years, wherein five times you tried to leave him and the one time you finally did, despite his refusal to let you go.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 musician reader, 5 + 1 things, pining, unrequited love, not actually unrequited love, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 i swear i cannot escape a brainrot whenever i watch a new show. this automatically wrote itself, i don't even remember how i came up with this idea. anyway, i'm surprised there aren't many sanji fics that involves the unrequited love trope, seeing that it suits him. or maybe that's just me. this is only a SNEAK PEEK though.

𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭 full version now published here!

You accepted it years ago.

You accepted the fact that you somehow fell in love with Sanji Vinsmoke along your weird journey of working in a sea restaurant full of former pirates and making music while at it. How the pesky feelings grew and wrapped themselves around your aching heart, you didn't know. Maybe it was when he learned to cook your favorite food and gave it to you afterwards, or the way his crystal blue eyes reminded you of snowflakes every winter.

Or maybe it was when he pulled your hair out of jealousy the moment he learned that Zeff would be taking in another child in his care, but brushed it and even braided it after the latter cleared the misunderstanding. Maybe it was when he supported you in your dreams and told you they weren't silly, maybe it was when he fought off drunk men that were trying to hit on you. Or maybe it was the way his voice would drop an octave lower whenever he asks you for a favor. The list could go on and on and you still wouldn't know the reason why. It doesn't matter anyway. You tripped, you fell, and now you're pining.

Drying off the last of the plates, you washed your own hands after and patted them dry on your skirt. You were the last one to leave the kitchen, the other staff already back in their quarters after a long, exhausting day of cooking. You fixed the signature blue bandana tied in your hair then went on your way towards the upper deck.

You weren't blessed with a talent in cooking, so you offered to do chores instead. Washing the dishes, cleaning the restaurant, and doing the laundry were few of the things you do in the Baratie. You can't say that you enjoy it, but you were beyond grateful that Zeff gave you a chance despite his opposition to let a woman work inside his restaurant.

As you were about to go to the newly laundered clothes you hung on a thin wire earlier that morning, you heard two voices speaking. You also smelled cigarette smoke wafting through the air, and you only knew one person who could be smoking at this hour. Your breath hitched in anticipation.

"You bringing a woman to your bed again, Sanji?" The other person asked playfully, but there was a hint of disbelief in his voice. You carefully took a peek so you won't accidentally reveal yourself and be accused of eavesdropping. Two people came into view with their backs facing you.

"Now, what are you talking about, Patty? I am a gentleman. I only had a nice chat with the lovely lady and escorted her back to her ship." Sanji interjected, a cigarette hanging on his lips.

Patty huffed. "I didn't know that chatting included kiss marks on jawlines."

This caused Sanji to laugh and say, "Not my fault she was charmed by my food."

"The boss man ain't gonna like it when he finds out about this."

"He's not gonna find out." Sanji assured him, wiping off the said kiss mark on his jaw. You stared at him as he did so, and you pitied the woman who planted that kiss, knowing she was just one of the many beautiful ladies Sanji had flirted with before. However, a tinge of pain in your chest said otherwise, taunting you that it was not pity you're feeling, but foul jealousy.

"Why don't you look for more decent women, eh? How about 'little lass' for a change?" Patty suddenly suggested.

It was like someone had hit your stomach with one of the metal pans in the kitchen with the way it lurched in surprise and nervousness. Your heartbeat started to quicken the longer you waited for his response, making your grip on your skirt tighter. In moments like these, you allowed yourself to hope, to wish that he saw something in you and that he finds you beautiful and lovely enough to be the person standing by his side.

But his answer made all that hope crumble down into nothing but dust.

"I don't see her that way." Sanji said after a long stretch of silence, taking a long drag from the cigarette then releasing the smoke in a single breath.

Ah.

You blinked repeatedly, trying to keep the tears from forming. It's always been like this, so why can't you get used to it? Taking a deep breath, you gulped away the knot forming in your throat and decided to leave. You can grab the clothes later.

"You're too kind for him." Someone behind you spoke, making you jump and tense up. Turning around, you saw Zeff looking at you with an unreadable emotion in his eyes and his hands on his hips, almost like he knew your secret. Of course he does. He always sees everything.

You stumbled on your words. "Sir?"

"That boy is always up to something." He began, switching his attention to Sanji. "One minute he's stubbornly immature in the kitchen, and the next he'll be a thirsty man staring at women like they're liquid booze."

Clearing your throat, you forced a smile.

"Well, he can be a lot sometimes." You agreed, remembering the days when the two of you would fight over irrelevant matters. Then you chuckled and continued, "But he's kind. He's gentle, and lovely, like a freshly made poem you keep repeating in your head. But then he's also confusing, hot-headed, and reckless. He's like the sea, isn't he? Calm yet wrapped with mystery, dangerous yet beautiful..."

You trailed off, an unbearable heat rising up your cheeks and neck once you slowly began to realize that you just ranted out your feelings to the head chef. You glanced at him with wide eyes, preparing to see a disgusted look on his face; however, Zeff didn't appear to be repulsed by your little speech. In fact, the corners of his lips were slightly quirked up.

"But I cannot swim. If I were to drown, he wouldn't save me." You quickly added, hoping to shut down the topic.

He sighed. "You will meet someone who deserves you as much as you deserve them, little lass." He simply said. He then laid his hand out, and on his palm was a little box poorly tied with a ribbon. "Here, for you."

Altnough you were a bit confused at the random gift, you accepted it and cradled the box to your chest. "I'll be okay, Zeff." You insisted, grinning cheekily. "When I become famous, I'll sing my songs here in Baratie, and people would flood the restaurant to hear my singing. And to eat your food too, of course."

The head chef nodded, relief flooding his expression. "I look forward to that." He said while awkwardly returning your smile.

That night, when you were sure that everyone in the Baratie was asleep, you opened the loose floorboard on the floors of your bedroom and grabbed the wooden box you kept hidden for a long time now. You opened the lid and began counting the Berry you saved for the past few months.

Tomorrow was the perfect day to leave.

You just can't stay here. Yes, you had a roof over your head, delicious food to eat everyday, and clean clothes to wear but you were so miserable. This wasn't the life you wanted. You wish to go out there, sing your heart out, and fall in love with someone who actually loves you back.

A knock on your door made you freeze. You held your breath as the person on the other side continued to knock a few more times. "You awake?"

Pain surged through your veins, your chest twisting in agony. Sanji.

"You didn't come down for dinner. I guess you're too tired, hmm?" He said, his muffled voice gentle, and the sound almost prompted you to stand up and open the door for him. But you dug your fingernails in your palms and resisted, because you can't just let this opportunity pass by.

You heard a brief clinking sound before Sanji spoke again, "Sweet dreams, ange."

Once his footsteps faded away, you cautiously moved towards your door and opened it as quietly as you can. There, on the floor, was a small plate with a slice of your favorite dessert: angel's food cake, topped with fresh cream and strawberries.

You bent down and saw a note beside the plate. And when you got to read the contents of the note, you burst into tears and sobs that wracked down your entire body.

Happy Birthday

— S.

You ate the cake with tears silently falling down your cheeks, and that was the first time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.

again, this is only a sneak peek of the actual fic, i'm currently halfway in completing it. please let me know if you want to read it, because i might publish it next week. if not, i'll just drown in sorrow and self-pity.

[irisintheafterglow]

[bernie sanders voice] i am once again.. thinking about coparenting megumi with boyfriend!satoru.

"so you're both megumi's..."

"guardians," you smile politely, praying stupid shit doesn't leave the mouth of the boy next to you. it's wishful thinking.

"yes," he beams so tenderly that you resist the urge to scrunch your nose in disgust. he takes your clammy hand lightly in his and turns back to megumi's teacher. "we had him young." a soft ow comes from under satoru's breath as you kick him under the table, forcing an expression of normalcy onto your face.

you hated parent-teacher conferences because it reminded you just how abnormal megumi and tsumiki's situation was. they had no parents, nor did they have any close relatives that cared for them the way a family should. that left you and the white-haired idiot in the tiny seat next to you to fill in that duty, and between missions and training students, you weren't around as often as you wanted to be.

"i...see," the teacher says hesitantly, eyeing your boyfriend with obvious unease. after a moment, she regains her composure and refocuses on you completely. "is there anything you wish to discuss before we begin?"

"not for me, no."

"when can we get him bumped up a grade? or have him skip one altogether?" every single word that comes from satoru's mouth is a joke but it still has your face burning with embarrassment that you were associated with him. "you know, i skipped a few grades when i was young."

"i can tell," you whisper and he pinches the flesh of your thigh between two fingers in defiance.

"i believe that skipping grades would be unwise at this time, as we haven't done any testing yet-"

"he was kidding, i swear," you say apologetically and, thankfully, the teacher continues as if on a script.

"i see. well, megumi is progressing wonderfully in the class. he's very adept at reading and writing, but he does struggle with math sometimes. it's nothing to be worried about; many children struggle with math at his age." you nod in understanding but grimace inwardly. megs always wanted you to help him with math homework since satoru became frustrated with the problems faster than the actual 2nd grader.

"for being the strongest, he's not that smart," megumi stated bluntly one night while you helped him on a coffee table in the teacher's lounge. you'd sent satoru on a walk around campus after his distress was clearly bothering megumi, who ended up suffering more from satoru's "help" than benefiting. "you're not around that much anymore to help me so i don't know what to do." his tiny eyebrows furrow and you reach out to run your fingers through his spiky black hair.

"i'm really sorry i'm not around as much anymore. do you want me to ask nanami? he handles math all the time."

"i think that'd be worse than satoru."

"you can't get much worse than satoru, buddy," you concede and his mouth turns up a little bit. nothing like a little insulting his mentor to get the boy's mood improved. still, his frown returns like it's his default expression.

"what if i can't do it? what if i'm not like everyone else?" it made your chest ache in a different way when megumi or his sister said something like that, like they were well aware that they weren't normal children. your heart panged for them and mourned their loss of a "normal" childhood just because they were born into a big three clan. it wasn't fair and it was something you lamented to satoru almost every week. you couldn't tell the boy any of that, though, no matter how much you wanted to explain why he wasn't like the rest of the kids in his class.

"just try your best, okay? sometimes, that's all we can do. you're already doing great by asking for help. it's not your fault if someone doesn't know how to help you, so just keep trying." he nodded determinedly; after another hour past dinnertime, you finally finished walking him through the rest of the problems while satoru draped his lanky body over the couch behind you, watching defeatedly over your shoulder.

"is there anything we can do to help him with math?" you ask, unconsciously weaving your fingers with satoru's and giving it a light squeeze. he squeezes back three times. i-love-you.

"he just needs a little reassurance that he's on the right track sometimes."

"mmm, don't we all," you murmur and you don't expect the teacher to laugh softly under her breath, muttering her agreement. before you know it, you've organized megumi's papers into his folder and picked him up from the playground outside his classroom, taking his hand as you walk back to the car.

"your teacher says you're doing well in class."

"really?"

"mhmm, though i didn't need her to tell me that since i already know." you shoot him a small smile, leaning into satoru's body as his arm wraps around your torso. "you, however, need to learn some manners," you lightheartedly tease, knocking your elbow against his abs. "you were not helping in there, you menace."

"it was boring, what do you want me to do?" his tone is so carefree, so comfortingly satoru it made your heart melt.

"it's a parent-teacher conference, not parents. you could have waited outside if you were so bored. went to play on the playground or something." his head dips close to your ear and you feel some strands of his hair brush against your skin.

"but then i don't get to watch you be all mature and put-together."

"trying to follow my example?"

"trying to break your composure," he corrects with a sly grin. "i'm the fun one, after all."

"that's one way to put it," megumi deadpans without hesitation and you stifle a snort.

"i'm one of a kind!"

"you're out of your mind, is what you are." before he can protest, you press a kiss to his cheek and he turns a slightly opaquer shade of pink. "but i wouldn't have you any other way."

[bluebeary-jay]

Damage done

Pre/No-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: during a fight with Joel, he unknowingly sends you into a panic attack caused by your previous experiences. he deeply regrets it. (based on this wonderful ask!)

Tags: heavy ANGST, hurt/comfort, angst with happy ending (there's also fluff), established relationship, petnames, soft!Joel (he's trying his best fr 🥺). Several years pre outbreak. please read the warnings carefully

Warnings: fighting, talk and mention about previous abusive relationship, panic attack, emotional distress, self-destructive thoughts

Word count: 4K

A/N: i wrote it partially based on experiences with my own panic attacks, but i know everyone's is different. if there's a warning i missed, please let me know. also i want this man to take care of me so much 😢 anyway, stay safe, darlings, and as always: happy reading and i hope you'll enjoy!! 💕 comments and feedback are greatly appreciated 😌

It had been a rough couple of weeks. Things at your work were rocky to say the least, what with your boss firing several people every week and cutting your salary. Joel didn’t have it much better – from what you understood, two clients suddenly canceled their order, and Tommy got himself thrown into jail, again, breaking his longest record to date. On top of that, little Sarah went down with some kind of flu that was raging in schools recently, and for the last two weeks one of you had to be home with her almost all the time.

So it was probably no wonder that the tension and stress became too much at one point, and you both snapped.

It was about the play at Sarah’s school.

“You promised her, Joel! She was talking about it for the entire week.”

“It’s not my fault we have to go out of town on this date,” he answered through clenched teeth, pinching the bridge of his nose and not looking up at you. “I tried to reschedule, but the commissioning party refused. I can’t help it, for fuck’s sake.”

You were glad Sarah wasn’t home right now to listen to your fight. You dropped her off earlier at her friend’s house because she wanted to practice lines for the play they were doing next week. The play that Joel was apparently planning to miss.

You adored Joel – god, you loved him with all that you had – but he could be so stubborn sometimes, it was driving you up the fricking wall.

“It’s your kid, Joel–”

“Yeah, it’s my kid!” he raised his voice, only now lifting his head. His stare was cold and hard, so unlike how he usually looked at you. “Not yours.”

“Are you kidding me?!” you shouted, hurt by his words and the tone he used. “I’ve been taking care of her, loving her– She is like a daughter to me!”

“But still not yours,” he repeated harshly. That was a low blow, especially when he told you so many times that you might not be Sarah’s biological mother, but it’s obvious you love her like she’s your own blood.

“You’re only saying that ‘cause you know I’m right,” you snarled angrily, and Joel huffed a humorless laugh.

“Of course. You always know better, dont’cha?” He stood up, towering over you, but you didn’t back down. If anything, it only made you more mad, as if he was doing this to intimidate you. “I’m sorry I’m such a terrible father in your eyes, but I have to think about earning money. Especially since it’s only a matter of time ‘till that asshole boss of yours will fire you, too.”

“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?! You really think so lowly of me to say it won’t be long until I get fired?”

“I don’t– Christ, you’re puttin’ words in my mouth again.”

“Again. Of course.” You spat out and took your sweatshirt from the couch, done with him and this conversation. “I’m going to my home,” you told him dryly. Joel’s nostrils flared and he took a step forward.

“No, you’re not.”

“Fuckin’ watch me,” you muttered under your breath, but loud enough for him to hear.

“We are not finished!!” Joel screamed, his booming voice echoing throughout the house.

It felt like a slap. In one second you froze, all your muscles seized up and a feeling of coldness gripped your heart and throat, sending panic flooding your veins. The sweatshirt you were holding slipped out from your stiff fingers.

Joel has never raised his voice at you like that. Never with such anger and fury. There was a bite to his tone that you couldn’t explain, but which you knew very well – the telltale sign that you went too far, and the other person’s patience was at an end, that now you were going to pay for it.

Your previous boyfriend taught you what it means. It meant bruises and split lips, and screaming when you started crying…

Joel noticed the shift in your behavior right away, and his anger immediately ebbed, replaced by confusion and concern.

“Darlin’?” he murmured the pet name, though it rolled off his tongue heavily and with difficulty.

He was still furious at you and your refusal to understand what he was going through, but it all died down when he saw how wide, how empty your eyes were. Your knees buckled, and you looked like you could fall down at any moment.

Joel didn’t have any idea what was happening with you – but knew that whatever it was, it was his fault.

You, in the meantime, felt like you couldn’t breathe. The man in front of you – you weren’t even sure anymore who that was – took a step forward with his hand lifted, and you quickly backed away, stumbling in the process.

“No! N-no, no, please, I’m sorry–” you started blabbering and sobbing, wrapping one arm around your middle to protect all the main internal organs. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“No, you didn’t…”

“Please… I’m sorry, I swear,” you cried, trembling at this point, but not daring to escape the room. “I’ll be better, just don’t… Please, don’t…”

Joel’s heart broke when he saw you bursting into tears and trying to make yourself as small as possible. All his anger disappeared in a cloud of smoke, replaced by the overpowering need to comfort the girl he loved.

But you seemed so scared when he wanted to come closer… And he didn’t know how to proceed.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he repeated in an even softer tone, his eyebrows scrunching in worry. “Sweetheart… M’not gonna hurt you.”

He took another slow step forward, but that seemed to already be too much, because the trembling intensified and you practically slumped against the wall, one arm around your stomach, and the other squeezing your throat tightly. Joel feared to know the reason why you would do that to yourself.

“Stop, plea– I can’t– I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

“No, it’s okay, my baby, it’s alright…”

He fell down to his knees next to you and reached to take you in his arms, but you started shaking your head violently, backing away and squirming out of his reach.

“No, no, please, I’m sorry! Don’t– don’t touch me!!”

A bile rose up in his throat, and he retreated his hands, holding them low in front of him to show he’s not going to do anything.

“It’s alright, babygirl,” he muttered chokingly, feeling completely helpless and lost about what to do. “You… you’re safe.”

You were crying uncontrollably now, though it seemed like you tried to stifle the never-ending sobs and tears flowing out of your eyes, in result making your entire body shake. You flinched – actually flinched – when Joel opened his mouth, and your fingers around your throat tightened their grip.

“No,” Joel said decisively, breaking your wish and grabbing your wrists, moving them away from your neck where red crescents started to form. “Baby, please, don’t.”

“Let go!!” It was hard to distinguish the words from between your cries, but the message your body language was conveying was clear as day. “No, don’t… me…” You sobbed again, quickly weakening despite your efforts. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

“Come ‘ere,” Joel whispered in a voice full of pain, carefully shifting closer and wrapping his arms around you, though being careful not to make you feel too crowded or trapped. “Shhh… it’s Joel, darlin’, m’here.”

Surprisingly, you let him hold you – maybe it was just because you didn’t have strength to resist and fight back anymore, Joel thought, but maybe you recognized him. Maybe it was both. But the tears didn’t stop. No matter how gently he stroked your back or whispered reassuring words, you couldn’t seem to stop crying.

Several times in the next couple of minutes you tried to grasp your neck or arm again, but every time he delicately, though firmly, moved them away. You still babbled half-intelligible apologies and pleas, and each time your voice broke or hitched on another fearful word, Joel’s heart was shattering into a million pieces all over again.

“I’m sorry…” you sobbed again, trembling in his arms. “I’m sorry, don’t hurt me, p-please–...”

“My darlin’...” Joel held you closer and more securely in his arms, rocking you back and forth. “Sweetheart, my sweet, sweet girl… I’m never gonna hurt you, I swear.” He planted soft, delicate kisses on your hair. Even though he wanted to hug you tightly, to show you how much he loves and cares about you, he restrained himself and tried to keep his touch as gentle as possible. “I swear, my babygirl, m’sorry, so sorry for screamin’... Didn’t mean to.”

You were still crying, albeit weaker now, in his arms, clinging to him like your life depended on it. Joel could feel your nails digging themselves into the skin of his back, but it was the furthest thing on his mind – hell, he could start bleeding and still it wouldn’t be as important as comforting you at this moment. Better him than you.

“I love you s’much, my babygirl, my life,” Joel continued murmuring into the top of your head, feeling close to crying himself when your tears seemingly couldn’t stop flowing. “M’so sorry. I won’t ever hurt you like that again, I swear…”

His words, though full of love and compassion, rolled off you like water off a duck’s back, and you still couldn’t locate yourself, couldn’t tether your being to this world and make sense of the difference between what you knew should happen, and what was actually happening.

Your whole body was hurting, yes, but it wasn’t the pain of being repeatedly hit. You could barely hear your own cries, but it wasn’t because of vicious and cruel words being thrown at you. You knew it was Joel you were clinging to, and he never hurt you in this way, but… but you also were never so angry at each other. You never fought like this – and experience taught you that crossing that invisible line will carry certain consequences.

You weren’t angry now. You were scared. And confused.

“Joel,” you whimpered between gasps, struggling to breathe through your rapid sobs. “I’m sorry. Please, don’t– don’t go.”

“M’not leavin’ ya, babygirl.” He spoke into your hair, closing his eyes. “M’not goin’ anywhere.”

You were calming down a little now, the sobs wrecking your body and breaking Joel’s heart dying down, though you were still shivering. Joel continued to hold and soothe you the best he could.

And wondered who must’ve hurt his darling so much that you’d react so badly.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered after a while, sniffling into Joel’s chest, but trying not to get snots on his shirt. Joel sighed sadly, but his hold on you just tightened.

“No, babygirl, my darlin’...” He pressed his lips to your hairline, stroking your back with his other hand. “You have nothin’ to be sorry for, I swear. It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” you whimpered pitifully, unable to stop another wave of tears from falling. “I’m sorry I reacted like that. I know… Joel, I know you won’t hurt me. Baby, please.” You took his head in your hands, searching his eyes with fear painted across your face. “I’m so sorry, wasn’t thinking and…”

“Hey. Love, it’s fine.” He placed his own hands on your cheeks, stroking lightly your damp skin with his thumbs. “Don’t say that. M’not angry at you and would never be because of that. It’s… it’s okay.” He petted your hair, trying to relax for your sake, but his chest remained tight. “It’s gonna be okay, I promise.”

You nodded weakly, though you weren’t sure if you believed him. Joel swallowed heavily and nodded after a while, too.

“Okay. I… I’ll run you a bath,” he whispered, but you held his hand tighter and shook your head with tears gathering in your eyes again.

“No, no! Just s-stay with me, please.”

Joel took your face in his hands, but you closed your eyes, feeling too vulnerable and exhausted to even try to maintain eye contact.

“I’m here, baby. C’mon, just hold onto me.”

He waited until your arms were around his neck before slowly standing up and tucking you securely in his arms. You hid your wet face in the crook of Joel’s neck, breathing in his soothing smell and trying to calm your breathing, which you still found difficult.

Neither of you said anything when he took you to the bathroom, sat down on the toilet seat and started to fill the bathtub with water and soothing oils. You just watched him, wiping your nose every once in a while.

Still remaining silent, Joel extended his hand and helped you stand up. Then, almost with fearful hesitation, he touched the hem of your shirt, sending you a questioning look. You just nodded, not having strength to undress yourself, and lifted your arms, letting him take your clothes off.

You didn’t let go of his hand even after he guided you to sit in the tub. You couldn’t bear being alone with your thoughts right now, and Joel, being as wonderful of a man as he was, stayed by your side as the warmth from the water seeped through your tired bones.

Another several minutes passed before he finally asked the question that was gnawing at him since the very beginning. You must’ve subconsciously known it was coming, cause it didn’t even surprise you.

“Who was it?” he asked quietly. His hand was still caressing your palm with the gentlest of touches, but his eyes were like ice, full of hidden rage and hatred. “Who did this to you, darlin’?”

You wrapped your arms around yourself, not sure whether to answer or not. Ever since you got to know him, Joel has been nothing but kind and understanding, never pressuring you into doing or saying something you didn’t want… but you had a feeling he wasn’t going to let the matter drop.

And honestly, you were afraid to tell him. To admit how your previous relationship looked and what exactly happened to make you act so strongly about something so small. Because… what if he’ll realize how broken you are, how much effort it’d take to put up with you, and he’ll leave? Even if he was willing to take care of you, it was really unlikely that he’d stay – even if he says that now.

You were doing good until today. You managed to hide the issues you had with yourself and all the pain you carried inside, never letting Joel know that something was wrong with you. But now he… he will…

You didn’t want him to leave. He made your life so much better and you loved him to pieces with all your heart, as weak and broken as it was.

You couldn’t lose him.

“Oh, baby…” Joel’s hands cupped your cheeks so carefully and lovingly that you almost started weeping again. “M’not goin’ anywhere. I love ya so much. You’re never gonna lose me.”

You didn’t realize you said those words out loud, but even so, somehow his affirmations didn’t make you feel any better. You wanted them to comfort you, but if anything, they just made you feel sick.

“I’m afraid you’re gonna leave someday,” you whispered hoarsely, keeping your eyes on the slowly disappearing bubbles. “I know I’m being selfish, but I don’t want you to. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Joel. I…” Tears spilled from your eyes again and you shook your head. “I know I’m too much. And… and broken. And I know it sounds like I wanna guilt-trip you, but I’m not, I’m just–” You choked on a sob, and wrapped your arms tighter around yourself, hugging your knees to your chest. “I don’t– don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Sweetheart, look at me, please.” Joel’s hands were rough to the touch, but so incredibly gentle when they guided you to meet his eyes, and a big pit formed in your stomach when you saw how they shone. He was on the verge of tears, too. “Don’t say things like that. Nothin’ is wrong with you. Who…” He sighed again. “Who made you believe such things?”

You didn’t answer at first, but Joel kept staring at you, and – finally – you relented.

“My previous boyfriend. The one I didn’t want to talk about. He– Look, I know he was a horrible person.” You let out a short laugh, but without any joy – or emotions altogether – in it. “And I hate him so much, but he… he was right. About some things.”

“He’s not.” Joel didn’t back down, feeling despair growing inside his chest as he saw the girl he adored with his whole heart put herself down like that. “You’re… fuck, you’re perfect, darlin’, and you didn’t deserve to be treated or talked to this way. M’so sorry it happened to you.”

He brushed some of your hair to the back and sighed silently. He seemed so lost and sad, it made you feel even worse.

“What can I do?”

That stopped the train of your thoughts, and you looked up.

“What?”

“What can I do?” he repeated softly. “To prove t’you that I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

Your lips parted, and you were unsure what to say. Joel took your hand in his, delicately tracing patterns on the back of it.

“Babygirl, listen to me. You’re the most precious thing t’me. I don’t care what this asshole told you, but… but none of this is true. And it’s not gonna drive me away from you. Nothin’ is gonna make me leave,” he repeated more firmly, never taking his eyes off you. “Because I love you. More than anythin’ else in the world”

Joel sounded so sincere and desperate, tugging at your heartstrings with his gentle, sad eyes and loving words. The water became cool some time ago, but your insides felt like they were on fire – as if the next breath you were about to take would be your last.

“I’m sorry for everything I said.” You took a shaky breath, trying to keep your voice steady. “I don’t think you’re a bad father. I think you’re the best and most amazing dad Sarah could ever ask for. I didn’t want…” You sniffed and your shoulders started to shake again with silent cries. “I didn’t want to hurt you, I’m so sorry, I didn’t–”

The sob that you tried to stop with all your might suddenly escaped you, and Joel’s forehead scrunched in worry. He pulled you closer, leaning over the edge of the bathtub. Neither of you concerned yourself with water dripping off your skin, only feeling relieved from each other’s closeness.

“I know, babygirl. M’not mad.” Joel left a lingering kiss on your tearstained cheek, and then a second one on your forehead. “I’m sorry, too. For how I acted and for–” he sighed heavily into your shoulder, “for shouting at ya.”

“You couldn’t have known,” you mumbled, but he shook his head.

“That’s no excuse. I shouldn’t ‘ave done it in the first place.” He relaxed in your arms, and somehow it made your muscles less tense, too. “I’ll see what I can do about that job. So that I can see Sarah’s play.”

You nodded and let your eyelids drop, giving in to the feeling of calm and security that always came with being with Joel.

“Can I sleep here tonight?” you asked quietly. You still were a little afraid that he’s going to turn you down after what happened, but you really didn’t want to stay alone. “With you?”

“‘Course you can. D’ya want to go now?”

You nodded again. Not bathing seemed like a big waste of water, but you didn’t feel strong enough to actually wash your body. And Joel didn’t pressure you – he just bent over and wrapped his strong arms around you, practically pulling you out of the tub by himself.

His clothes were completely soaked when he put you down and reached for the fluffiest towel you had, wrapping it around you like a little cocoon. He got rid of his wet shirt, kissed your head gently and, without a word, scooped you up into his arms again.

“I can stand,” you offered when he started walking towards the bedroom, forcing you to wrap your hands around his neck for support.

“I want to take care of you.”

“But your back pains…”

“I’m not that old yet, sweetheart,” he answered with a half-smile, slowing down and gazing into your eyes softly. “Let me take care of you.”

You brushed his cheek with your fingertips tenderly, eyes flickering across his face. “But you’re always taking care of everyone, Joel.”

His throat bobbed and he almost immediately looked away. It was clear what he was thinking – that according to himself, he wasn’t doing a good enough job. Because you got hurt. Because he was the one who unintentionally hurt you and sent you into a panic attack.

He was silent when he put you down on the bed with care, turning around to fetch one of his shirts from the closet. During this whole time you didn’t say anything, either. Your mind was still a little closed off from when you tried to separate yourself from the painful memories that started to haunt you, and despite Joel’s efforts, it was still difficult to move past the experience.

But your head snapped up when Joel, after helping you put the shirt on, knelt in front of you, took your hand in his and leaned forward to kiss your knee gently.

“M’sorry,” Joel whispered with pain tinging his deep voice. “I’m sorry for sayin’ all those things about you and Sarah. I know you love her.” He pressed his lips to your knee again, and lifted his head, revealing how misty his own eyes were, which in turn made your heart ache even more. “My sweet girl. I swear I won’t ever hurt you again.”

“You didn’t hurt me,” you answered quietly, but Joel shook his head and took a deep breath.

“What can I do?” he repeated his question from earlier, and this time you knew exactly what you needed him for.

“Can you… can you hold me?”

Without missing a beat, Joel raised from his position and enveloped you in his embrace, making you feel safe and protected like never before. You sighed heavily, breathing in his scent and feeling like just by touching you with such love that only he was capable of, he helped you to lift some invisible load from your shoulders.

Despite the headache from all the crying and your chest still tightening with every shallow breath you took, you felt a little better now. You didn’t feel alone.

You knew you were safe with Joel.

It took some time for you to fall asleep, but even when you did, Joel could not find peace in the silky darkness of the evening.

Before you dozed off, Joel vowed again and again how much you mean to him, how you and Sarah are the best things that ever happened to him, and how he’ll never let anything happen to any of you – and he could clearly see that you believed his every word, and that you weren’t mad at him. You weren’t flinching when he rocked you back and forth, or later when he pressed small kisses to your forehead.

But you still were quiet and your face miserable, and several times Joel tucked you in closer to himself when he felt you shaking and sniffing. There wasn’t anything else he could do but hold you and whisper soothing promises into your hair. Once your eyelids started to drop, he began humming a familiar melody he knew you liked, and you nuzzled your face into his neck, curling up in his embrace.

And you whispered ‘I love you’ before you drifted off to an uneasy sleep in his arms. And before he could even answer, you thanked him for loving you.

When he heard it, he had to keep himself from breaking down with the last bit of his strength.

“You mean everythin’ to me, love. Everythin’,” he murmured after a couple of seconds, not even knowing if you were still awake. The guilt in his chest made it hard to breathe, but he pushed through it, and then he softly kissed your forehead, making a promise to himself.

He will find time to go to Sarah’s play with you. And he’ll make it right.

[greynatomy]

rivals?

alexia putellas x messi!reader

request here

with all the alexia angst being posted (my fault), here’s some fluff

———

In the world of professional football, rivalry between two players are always one that many fans are eager to watch.

In the men’s world of football, there was Messi and Ronaldo.

In the women’s, Messi and Putellas. Two of the most sought after female footballers of this time.

You and Alexia were known as fierce rivals on the field when competing for your country. You for Argentina, Alexia for Spain. Both of your competitiveness fueling debates among fans. Little did everyone know, behind the scenes, you both shared a secret that could rival the on-field intensity.

Away from the spotlight, you and Alexia were much more than rivals and teammates — you were married.

Your love story began when you’d transferred from playing in the Women’s Super League to Barça. From the first time she’d laid her eyes on you, there was an instant connection. At first she didn’t know how to feel about your transfer, only having played against you for the national team, where the rivalry grew and grew, but as you both played for Barça, the understanding and pressure you both experience helped you grow closer.

Late-night rendezvous, secret getaways, and coded messages allowed you to maintain your privacy. It was difficult to keep everything a secret, something you’ve both agreed on. Time moved quickly from the first time she’d seen you in a Barça kit to now, six years later.

You’re both cuddled up on the couch, watching a replay of the match you’ve just played, pointing out the things you and the team could have done better, when you heard some whining on the baby monitor searched up on the coffee table.

With a kiss to your head, Alexia got up to see what the fuss was all about. You watched on through the monitor, seeing how your wife delicately held and talked to your two year old, making you fall in love with her all over again.

“See look there’s Mami.” Alexia points you out, walking in with Rosa in her arms.

“Mami.” Rosa mumbles, arms reaching out for you, cuddling into your body once in your hold.

“How was your nap, bebé?”

All you got was a whine. Alexia cuddles back into your side as Rosa falls back into a slumber.

“I’ve been thinking.” Alexia starts.

“Uh oh. Mamá has been thinking.” You tease, earning you a playful shove.

“Seriously. Rosa turned two a bit ago and I want to be able to show her what her Mami and Mamá do or work. The environment with all the fans.”

Alexia starts to ramble. Saving her from spiraling, you place a hand over her mouth stopping her words.

“I was thinking the same thing.”

With a bright smile on her face, Alexia pulls you in a passionate kiss, careful to not wake your daughter up.

Three weeks later, Spain has a friendly match against Argentina. Everyone played hard no matter that it was only a friendly, the match ending in a draw.

As far as the public knew, you and Alexia were still rivals, enemies, or any other term they use, so whenever they see you conversing after matches, fans and media freak out, like right now.

What the fans didn’t expect was a small child running into your arms with laughter. Standing up with Rosa in your arms, Alexia wraps her arms around both of you, kisses being placed on her cheeks by both of her moms.

To say the fans and media were exploding was an understatement.

“Alexia, they need you for media.”

Alexia settles herself at the table in front of all the press, waiting for the questions to come.

“Hola, Alexia. Great game today.”

“Thank you.”

After a couple of questions about the match, a little kid is seen throwing themselves onto Alexia.

“Mamá!”

A second person is seen chasing after the child.

“Sorry, sorry. She’s gotten fast.”

You run in, trying to grab Rosa from your wife, who is wriggling to make her harder to hold.

“You can leave her here.”

“You sure?”

She nods so you give them both a kiss on the head and walk out the room.

“Sorry about that.”

“Who do we have here? If you don’t mind us asking.”

“Bebé can you tell them your name?”

“Soy Rosa Putellas.”

The room let out a collective ‘aww’.

“So-so she’s your daughter?” A reporter stutters, stunned by the little girl.

“Yes.”

“And Messi’s?”

“Yes.”

The room full reporters burst, questions being asked over the others. Alexia just stands up, walking out of the room.

“I think you broke them.” Is the first thing you say when she walks into the locker room.

“Eh.” She shrugs. “Makes it fun.”

[lovebugism]

heyy i have a request <33

just read ur shy reader x steve fic where she gives him his phone number back and then hits her head and he’s just so 🥰🥰🥰 abt it all. i know it’s a prequel to a fic where they’re finally together but could i politely request a fic from when they did get together. maybe tommy tries picking on her again but steve actually stops him that time🩷🩷🩷

thanks for requesting :D part of the king!steve universe! — steve defends you from his asshole friends (shy!fem!r established relationship, hurt/comfort | 1k)

The air smells overwhelmingly of the late summer season. Of nighttime and dewy grass and chlorine and Steve The Hair Harrington. 

The boy himself lazes in the lawn chair next to yours, much too far for your liking. The warm scent of his cologne lingers between you and cradles you in his absence. 

You tilt your chin to your shoulder and admire the sharp edges of Steve’s profile in silence. Your heavy eyes fall from his pronounced browbone, to the slope of his chiseled nose, and finally to the plush of his pink lips. Too pretty for his own good.

“You can swim if you want to,” you murmur when you catch him eyeing Tommy and Carol splashing each other in the steaming pool. “You know that, right?”

Steve’s brows furrow, as though offended by the question. “I’m okay here.”

“I just don’t want you to think you have to stay here with me—”

“I don’t care about swimming with those two shitheads, alright? Honest,” the boy interjects, then turns to look at you fully. Honey glitters in his dark eyes, which melt with a quiet adoration. In a similarly warm tone, he confesses, “I just wanna spend time with you.” 

A petaled smile blooms on your mouth. You purse your lips to the side in a futile attempt to conceal it, which only makes Steve’s smug grin grow. He knows what he’s doing to you. And it’s maddening.

“You can flirt with your girlfriend without being an asshole, you know?” Tommy calls from the shallow end of the pool, freckled arms folded along the concrete edge. He shakes wet hair from his face and jokes, “Dissing your friends isn’t exactly a turn-on. Ain’t that right, sweetheart?”

Your face burns when he turns to you. The unwanted attention makes your throat catch and your stomach do backflips. ‘Cause no matter how many times Steve invites you to these hangouts, you know you’ll never truly fit in. Not here. Not with them.

Steve, seemingly sensing your discomfort as you shift in your seat, calls back. “Hey, Tommy?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

"Dick,” the darker-haired boy chuckles. 

Carol swims over to him, then, and mounts his back. She wraps all her dainty limbs around him like a koala. Tommy accommodates her weight with little effort. “Hey, Wallflower. Why don’t you hop in? The water’s warm.”

As if you didn’t already know that you were less than friends, the use of the horrid nickname was further confirmation.

“I don’t know how to swim,” you confess in a mousy voice.

“I could always teach ya,” he offers, mostly polite, but still distantly creepy in his way. “You’ve got a bathing suit under all that, right?”

“Uh… Yeah?”

The corner of his mouth lifts in a faint smirk. His dark eyes flit up and down your form like he can see right through your oversized t-shirt. “Nice,” he hums.

Carol scoffs and swats his arm. “You’re such a boy.”

Tommy’s freckled face swirls with a boyish offense. “I just wanna know what she looks like under all those clothes! That’s all!” he argues like it’s normal. Like you aren’t there at all.

“Okay, Tommy,” Steve spits. “That’s just gross.”

“What?” he laughs

“You can’t— You can’t just say that!” the boy beside you retorts, talking wildly with his hands. “That’s, like, super sexist, dude.”

Even stewing in your red-hot embarrassment, he manages to get a smile out of you. Not that he’s trying to, anyway. He’s trying to stand up for you — the best he can, at least. It’s not his fault his boyishness is so damn adorable.

“Don’t act like you haven’t said worse shit, Harrington!” 

“Yeah, but I grew up! It’s not my fault you’re still fourteen!”

Tommy rears his arm back to splash him. The warm droplets of the heated pool land mostly on the boy beside you, dampening his sweatshirt in rogue places. A few fall gently on your arm when you flinch away.

“See. Now you’re just proving my point,” Steve deadpans.

“Hey, Wallflower!” Tommy shouts, if only to further provoke his best friend. “If you ever want a break from this hardass, give us a call, alright?”

Carol gasps in offense. “You’re so gross,” she giggles before splashing him with a lighthearted hand. To which Tommy responds with a much bigger, much more dramatic splash of his own. 

The two of them roughhouse like they hate each other and forget you were ever there, while you drown in a riptide of thoughts.

What did she mean by that? your mind races. Does the mere thought of you disgust her? Or does she realize how pervy her boyfriend is? Maybe it’s both. But the thought is still stomach-turning.

Steve looks over at you and softens all over again. “Sorry about him,” he mumbles.

His honeyed voice cuts through all the mean voices in your head. You blink hard and turn to him with less glazed-over eyes. “You’re real cute, you know?” you say with a wavering, mostly sincere grin.

He only shrugs and swipes an anxious hand through his hair, ducking away when his cheeks start to speckle a burning pink color. The chocolate strands fall back over his forehead once more. 

“He doesn’t get to talk to you like that,” he murmurs sheepishly. “Or anyone, but… Especially you.”

“Hardass,” you quip with a mischievous squint.

Steve sends you a playful glare in return. You cave with a pretty laugh. He grins at the sound of it and settles back in his plastic lounge chair, blinking up at the velvet night sky.

“It’s feel good, though,” he mutters with his arms folded over his stomach.

Your brows pinch. “What does?”

“Being the only one who gets to see you under all that.”

Steve flashes you a smirk — pretty, pink, and lopsided. You meet the petaled expression with a lighthearted glower despite the sparkles burning like embers in your chest. 

“Does it?” you monotone.

“Yep,” he answers, popping the p. “It’s an honor, really.”

“Shut up.”

“I feel like I deserve a medal, honestly.”

“Shut up.”

[7seas-of-ryy]

I Need You | Part 4

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Author’s Note: I can't thank you guys enough for reading my writing. I'm looking forward to your thoughts on this part <3

Summary: You were saved but you still have so many questions. Trying to sort everything out might be harder than it seems.

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Warnings: Talks of torture, self hatred, angst, let me know if I need to add any others :)

"I've healed her as much as I can. Now she needs rest." you heard Madja speak

Darkness.

"I failed her, Rhys" you heard Cassian cry softly

Darkness.

"Thank you for saving her" you heard Feyre gently speak

Darkness.

"I forgot about her, then let Elain convince me to stay for longer. Let her convince me that y/n would be ok waiting a little bit longer for me." Azriel yelled

Well, that explains why he didn't show up.

"She's awake" Rhys stated

Both of the Illyrian males hurried over to you.

"Hey sunshine, how are you feeling" Your High Lord and good friend smiled softly down at you

"I'm fine" you whispered, voice hoarse from all the screaming you had been doing

Rhys hesitated, clearly knowing you were not fine. He didn't want to push you but he couldn't leave you alone after everything that just happened.

"Cassian told me most of what happened but there are certain parts he can't fill in. I don't want you to have to relive it but it might help us figure out why you were their target" he spoke so softly, as if speaking too loud would break you

Once he asked to see, it all hit you. The questions about Nyx, so many questions about him, you started to panic. Tears filled your eyes. He needed to know, he needed to understand that you didn't tell your torturers anything. You started hyperventilating, panicking, you had to let him know you were strong enough to withstand the pain.

"Rhys I promise I never broke. I never told them anything. No matter how much they hurt me, I swear. They asked so many times but I never broke, I swear I promise I was strong-" your sobs cut you off and Rhys bent down and pulled you into a tight hug.

"Shh I know. You did so well, please don't worry about any of that" he spoke into your neck, his own tears now pouring down his face.

You couldn't control yourself. Still terrified of saying, doing the wrong thing. You were shaking and crying hysterically. You knew they needed to see what you were tortured over so you sent the thought out hoping Rhys would understand what you were doing. He knew immediately, standing up and giving you a small nod.

You showed him everything, still shaking and crying. Azriel reached out for you and you let him. You needed anything, anyone to anchor you. He wrapped his arms around you and you cried in his chest.

Azriel looked at Rhys and saw the pained look on his face as the scene was happening in his head. Once he saw it all, he ran out of the room muttering something about a sleep tonic. The shadowsinger held you even tighter as if he could put all the pieces of you back together.

"I'm so sorry, you needed me and I wasn't there. I'm so sorry, so so sorry...." He kept repeating. You wanted to tell him it wasn't his fault, to help take away the guilt he was feeling but all you could think about was Cass repeating that same thing in the dungeon.

Just like that, the terror built up inside you. Your mind tricking you into thinking you were back in the chains being tortured. You started kicking and screaming, Azriel holding you down so you wouldn't hurt yourself.

"Rhys, you got that sleep tonic? Anytime now!" He shouted hoping his friend was coming

Moments later, Rhys winnowed in the room with Madja. Once she assessed the situation, she looked grim.

"Sleep tonics will not work, this is too severe. Move, boy." Madja spoke, pushing the spymaster away and setting her hands on you.

You started to settle and slowly fell asleep.

"This won't last long. I can only fix the physical pain or symptoms. Her mind tricked her body into thinking she was being tortured again. I eased that pain but it will take a lot more to ease the pain inside her," the healer looked at them with sorrow, "I'm sorry but this is as much as I can do for her."

Azriel immediately sat in the chair next to your bed, holding your hand with both of his. Rhys patted him on the back and left to try and figure more out.

You slept for 2 straight days, with Az never leaving your side. He couldn't believe he let this happen. You were his best friend, and more than that he had always been in love with you. After everything with Mor, he couldn't risk getting hurt again or losing you so he pushed his feelings away. It was the most painful thing he had done and once Elain came along he thought it would be easier to keep himself wrapped up in her.

He deeply regretted that now. You would hate him now. He forgot about you, left you there alone. He wouldn't be surprised if you never spoke to him again.

Lucien slowly entered the room, "How is she?" he asked Azriel

"Not great but she'll get there... thank you," his voice broke, "I haven't gotten a chance to tell you yet, thank you for saving her"

Lucien nodded at the male, a solemn look upon his face, "She didn't deserve any of this. I knew you and Elain had been spending time together and it pissed me off. She's my mate, but I knew she wanted you and not me, so I suffered in silence because I thought I deserved it..." he paused, "Y/n has always been kind to me. Accepted me the moment she saw me with Feyre. Offered her company when she knew Elain was away with you so I wouldn't have to be alone. She did not deserve any of this. She did not deserve to be pushed aside and forgotten."

Azriel stared at him, stunned. He opened his mouth to speak, closed it not knowing what to say, opened it again, "...I-"

"Do not hurt her again." Lucien stated, cutting him off and walked out of the room with one last look at you.

His shadows swirled around him, covering his neck to comfort him. They had been all over you for the most part. Wrapped around your arms and legs or nuzzled in your hair. After a while they whispered to him, she's waking up.

Your eyes slowly opened and the male at your side quickly stood to grab you some water. He helped you sit up in the bed against the wall and you both sat in silence for a while. You could tell he hadn't been sleeping, the bags under his eyes were the worst they had ever been.

"Sunshine" Az said, and it made you flinch.

You felt like your soul was the darkest its ever been. You weren't sunshine, you were storms and pain. You felt disgusted with yourself, hated yourself for being caught so easily. For allowing Cassian to be taken and have to witness everything. You hated yourself for causing everyone so much trouble and pain. You wished you died in that dungeon.

Cassian, Rhys, and Feyre all walked in. Feyre had a kind, hesitant smile, Rhys looked relieved that you were awake and not freaking out, and Cassian wouldn't even look at you. You assumed he was probably upset with you for dragging him into this and getting him tortured.

"Do you know why they picked me?" you asked quickly, so you wouldn't have to keep seeing their sad looks

"We're still not entirely sure. We know they were trying to find out things about Nyx but they could have taken any one of us for that." Feyre stated

"Maybe they thought I was the weakest and easiest to get answers out of?" you guessed.

"No, it felt very personal towards you y/n. It was like he hated you, don't get me wrong, he enjoyed beating me up but he was ecstatic to hurt you" Cassian spoke, still avoiding eye contact

"How did Lucien even find us?" you asked

"All he said was that Eris sent him a location and told him he needed to get there right away but that no one could see him there. Once he got there, he heard your screams and ran to save you. We've been trying to contact Eris but he hasn't responded." Rhys spoke

"I'm going to find whoever did this, and I'm going to slowly tear them to shreds" Azriel growled softly, still holding your hand.

"I don't understand what I did wrong-" you voice wavered and there it was. The look everyone was giving you made you feel sick. They knew you were broken now, you couldn't hide it anymore. You coughed to try and cover up the weakness in your voice.

"But we'll figure it out and I'll be ok. We'll all be ok. Now, I'm starving so I would love to join you guys for a meal tonight." You tried to smile at them. You needed them to think you were fine, that you were strong. They didn't need a weak link in their group. The last thing you wanted to do was eat but you figured that might convince them you were all good.

The four of them stared at you as if you grew a third eye on your head.

"Maybe you should take it easy, I can bring some food to you" Azriel suggested.

"Yeah that would be easier" the rest of them agreed.

"C'mon guys seriously, I'm fine. Give me a couple minutes to get dressed and I'll head down. I can try to help figure out what this is all about before we eat." you said weakly

"No. You are staying up here and resting. If you are hungry, one of us will get you food." Rhys commanded in a tone that left no room for negotiation.

"Is that an order from my High Lord or an order from my boss" you asked harshly

"It's an order from your friend." he softly stated, "let us know if you need anything"

The three of them left but Az stayed at your side. You didn't want to be alone but you also didn't want anyone to see you fall apart, which was about to happen any minute.

"Az, can you give me some time alone? I just need to think" you felt bad but you needed to be strong

Azriel gave you a sad smile, nodded, and headed for the door. The second it clicked shut, your facade fell apart. You began softly crying, you laid there all night like that until you finally cried yourself to sleep.

You didn't see the lone shadow in the corner of your room watching over you, and you didn't know Azriel slept outside your room on the floor all night long just in case you needed him.

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[brittle-doughie]

My last two asks were eaten by the dreaded askbox kraken so here goes attempt 3 at one of these:

I had the thought of Y/N Cookie being a keeper of the Ivory Pagoda and one of Mystic Flour's most trusted guards, and potentially her lover, who she gave the task of protecting her cocoon at all costs when she sealed herself away.

They stood strong against most who sought to break the cocoon, but when they eventually fell in battle and the cocoon was breached for the first time, Mystic Flour did not take it kindly and effortlessly annihilated those who struck down Y/N Cookie, taking their crumbled body into the cocoon with her when she resealed herself, to safeguard what was left.

Volition’s End (Mystic Flour Cookie)

She entered the cocoon as a savior. She’ll leave it as anything but…

You hummed to yourself as you swept the temple floor, the specks of dust floating away with each brush to the floor. It was just one of many tasks given you as guard captain of the temple, as permitted by the will of Mystic Flour Cookie.

You gazed up at her statue in awe and respect to the great hero, no matter how many times you’ve seen it in your days at the Grand Temple. It only showed the amount of admiration you’ve had for her.

The other guards teased you that it was definitely more then just admiration for Mystic Flour Cookie. You wanted to say they were wrong, it was just the amount of respect you held for her, but were they really wrong in the end?

Admiration….

Admiration that blossomed into….

“Ah, already up and at it again, eh captain?”

Cloud Haetae Cookie, the faithful guide for Mystic Flour Cookie. You’ve known them for as long as you resided here at the temple. They might have been here long before you showed up, but they’re still as adorable and cheerful as ever!

“Yeah, I wanted to make sure the temple is nice and clean for when Mystic Flour Cookie finally emerges from the cocoon and graces us as the Leavened One.”

“You’ve been saying that every day, you know. Always talking about how our master will really come out of the cocoon this time! Oooh, like an obsession!”

“I am not obsessed, I simply expressed excitement and hope that we’ll finally see her again..don’t read too much into it…”

“Do you really expect me to believe that, captain~? I’ve seen the way you and our master see each other before she entered the cocoon! It’s so obvious, almost everyone knows about you two!”

“Quiet….”

“Hehehe, you know I’m right! Now give me some rubs!”

“Seriously?”

“Hey, it’s not my fault your rubs are so good!”

“…..”

“…..” (They’re giving you the puppy dog eyes)

“Alright alright, stop whining, you.”

Cloud Haetae Cookie transforms into their Haetae form, giggling and laughing as you rub their head and stomach. It never fails to give you a small smile, seeing Cloud Haetae Cookie so happy…

It makes the wait for Mystic Flour Cookie bearable…

———————————————————————

“What is that in your hands, Y/N Cookie?”

“Oh, it’s just a white bun. Cloud Haetae gave me one while I was patrolling the temple. They gave me another for you if you were hungry too.”

“I am not hungry right now, Y/N…”

“But food is always enjoyed best when you’re having it with others..”

“That is true, but one’s wish cannot be granted if I am eating.”

“Mystic Flour Cookie….”

She turns to you. You were giving her that look with a pout, she hated it when you did that, she never was able to resist it as the smallest smile forms on her face.

“Very well, I may make an exception for you. Pass me mine…”

You gave it to her without haste, she takes a moment to observe the white bun before having a bite. The taste was delectable on her taste buds as she turned to you, enjoying your white bun, she hums with that hint of a smile again.

The white bun was great. Having her most trusted guard eat alongside her? Even better…

———————————————————————

“Hey! Why’d you stop? Give me more!”

“O-oh! Sorry.”

Cloud Haetae Cookie relaxed once more after you resumed your head rubbing, reeling from your memory with Mystic Flour Cookie…

You just had to wait a little longer, or a while longer, or whatever it took. Just as long as you got to see Mystic Flour Cookie again…

To spend time together like you two used to do…

*SLAM!*

The sound of the temple doors slamming open and shut rapidly startled you two, causing Cloud Haetae to jump from your lap.

“Gah! What’s going on?!”

“It’s one of my guards!”

A temple guard hastily stumbled towards you, gripping her shoulder in clear pain.

“Captain, it’s the crowd outside. They’re getting more restless the more they wait for the temple doors to be opened. They’ve resorted to violent means to breach our line!”

“Those cookies…can’t they wait anymore?! You go take care of yourself, I’ll be out there shortly.”

“Yes, captain!”

The guard hurried away as Cloud Haetae Cookie grew nervous, yet frustrated too.

“This is only been getting worse the past few days, now they’re resorting to hurting others to satiate their selfishness…”

“It’s terrible, which is why I’m going out there to quell them and hopefully calm down the problem. The cocoon must be protected at all costs! Cloud Haetae Cookie, if they ever get in, do not hesitate to hide. I’d hate to see you hurt…”

“But what if things don’t get better? What if they….try to crumble you? The fires of hatred in their eyes from the last visit was already bad enough…!”

“Anything is better than Mystic Flour Cookie getting hurt under my watch!”

You marched outside with your weapons ready, Cloud Haetae Cookie’s nerves not being helped at all.

“Mystic Flour Cookie, my master, please help us…”

———————————————————————

“Y/N, you don’t need to blame yourself…”

“But I went against what I sworn to do, I attacked instead of defended…”

“That cookie’s greed had gotten the better of them, they were not of sound mind anymore…”

“I should’ve reacted better, I should’ve kept my emotions in check, please forgive me…”

“Y/N Cookie.”

The slight raise in her volume along with your name in full made you stop and stand at attention, worries at their peak.

Until Mystic Flour Cookie reached to caress your cheek.

“You did what you’ve sworn to do, protect the temple and me from any danger…”

“Even if..it’s one of the temple goers?”

“Yes. There was no other option, it was either you or them…”

Mystic Flour’s face formed a small smile.

“I am willing to look past this one offense, but you will have to make up for it~”

Now your worries were just reduced to red blush staining your face.

“T-Thank you, Mystic Flour Cookie. I won’t hold back from any threat, without having to harm others!”

“Mm. Come here, it’s okay…”

She brings you into a hug, something that shocks you for a moment, as you slowly reciprocate. Your emotions bubble as your grip subconsciously gets tighter around her.

“Thank you….”

———————————————————————

“GET BACK!”

The situation escalated beyond what you had imagined. They broke past your defensive line and had breached the temple doors, yet you still had weapon ready.

Your fellow guards laid defeated before you, only you remained….

The crowd of angry cookies were less than willing to settle down…

“Where is she?! Is she out of that cocoon yet?!”

“Why can’t she help us?! My house is close to collapse!”

“My garden isn’t going to make it at this rate!”

“I want my wish granted, it’s been too long!”

“Treasure! I heard there was treasure she’s hiding from us too!”

You grew more furious at the crowd with that accusation now spreading around, but you remained steadfast.

“There are no treasures! She isn’t keeping anything from you! Please, not now! Not when she’s on the last step to being the Leavened One!”

The crowd couldn’t care, eyes full of malice and anger as they approached with their own weapons.

“So much for a great hero! She needs one cookie to protect her!”

“Now we KNOW you’re holding out on us with treasure!”

“Hand us the treasure!”

A cookie with a bow shoots and it strikes your leg, making you yell out in pain as you kneel, strawberry jam oozed out.

Cloud Haetae Cookie, hiding under the stairs, gasped in horror at the sight.

You didn’t falter, you simply stood your ground!

“If you think I’ll let you reach Mystic Flour Cookie while I’m still breathing, THINK AGAIN!”

You deflected and blocked as much of their attacks as you could, keeping them at bay…

But you could only do so for so long, for every slip up, they landed cuts and shots all over your body.

A slash to your knee, an arrow to your shoulder, a stab to your stomach…

You never once raised your weapon to hurt them…

“*sniffle*….Y/N Cookie….*sob*….”

Cloud Haetae tried to hold back their tears as they’re forced to watch you slowly whittle away from fatigue and the crowd’s attacks…

Someone else was watching….within the cocoon…

She begged them to stop internally….

You fall to your knees…

Stop this…!

You looked up at the cookie behind you, nothing but hatred in their eyes….yet you showed no fear, only defiance with a scowl…

Please stop this!

You see the cookie’s blade rising up….

You refused to show fear…

PLEASE STOOOOOP!

The blade comes down….

“I love you, Mystic Flour Cookie….”

———————————————————————

You and Mystic Flour Cookie sit at one of the highest points in the temple, watching the sunset.

“It’s nice up here, don’t you think?”

“Yes, it’s a pleasant view…”

“It makes you forget about all your troubles when you look at something like this…”

“Do you have troubles in your life, Y/N?”

“Yes, but I knew what I was getting into when I joined. It would’ve been all worth it if it meant I get to see you everyday.”

Mystic Flour Cookie giggles a little, a smile on her face.

“Then, we should do this more often…”

“I’d be more than happy to…”

“As do I….”

You two continued to watch the sunset, leaning against each other, hands clutched together….

———————————————————————

“Stop, I don’t think they’ll be getting up anytime soon…”

The group moved on from the now battered remains of..what used to be Y/N Cookie…the group talked amongst themselves.

“Now, for what we came here for, the treasure that she’s keeping from us in that cocoon…”

“Needed a cookie to protect her, I thought she was supposed to be a savior to us…”

“Maybe…she wasn’t as godlike as we thought…”

“She tricked us. And now she’s hiding away in that cocoon of hers! Fake! FAKE IMMORTAL!”

With one slash of a sword, the cocoon was cut open, where Mystic Flour Cookie was situated before them, unmoving and with a shadow over her eyes…

“You! We’ve waited long enough for you to come out of there! Where are the treasures you’re hiding!”

“Or at least you’ll be able to grant our wishes now!”

“I’ve got so much to ask for, where do I start?”

“Me first!”

“Back off!”

“I wish for the power to be a great spellcaster!”

Without saying a word, Mystic Flour Cookie waved her hand and the cookie who asked felt a surge within their body!

“Woah! This is….huh?”

Before the cookie knew it, their head had poofed into flour along with the rest of their body, the rest of the group gasped in horror as they too started turning pale…the atmosphere suddenly shifted to pure red…

“What’s happening to us!?”

“I don’t feel so good…”

“It’s her! She’s did this to us!”

“HELP ME!”

The cookies that tried to draw their weapons suddenly saw that their arms and hands had stopped working as they fell apart and dispersed to flour, causing more chaos to ensure as they screamed in horror.

Some tried to run to the temple doors in a panic, a few making there only to see that the temple doors were closed and locked as they struggled to open them, fading to nothing before they could realize that their efforts would be useless…

Some tried to beg and plead for their lives, swearing that they’ll never do this again….

For the first time ever since the cocoon was cut , Mystic Flour Cookie vocalized…

Not to speak…

But to laugh….

“Hehe….”

“Hehehehehe….”

“AHAHAHAHAHA!”

When it was all over, there’d be no one left remaining with the exception of Mystic Flour Cookie, Cloud Haetae Cookie, and Y/N Cookie….

Mystic Flour Cookie stopped laughing…as she gazed down to the body of her now ruined lover….

She gently picked them up in their arms as she retreated into her cocoon, Cloud Haetae crawling out of the stairs as she gazed up at their master.

“Master…I’m sorry, they…”

“No, I should’ve seen how futile it was to try and ignore the growing greed that can instill into cookies. It wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t…their fault.”

Cloud Haetae couldn’t stand to see the crumbled apart body of the captain and friend..

“I will return to the cocoon, they will be joining me. This world…is too cruel for them to be in…”

“Yes, master….”

The cocoon closed up, with Mystic Flour Cookie clutching Y/N Cookie close….

Just them and her…

And when the cocoon opens up once more…

She’ll make the cookies see…

She’ll make the world see how much pain and anguish can be let go by returning to nothing….

“I love you too, Y/N Cookie….”

I locked in so hard, lol

[randomshyperson]

Hey

Hope you get rid of this writers block soon ✨

How about hand holding no 34 with Wanda 🥺

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

prompt: holding hands while driving | warnings: none.

When you suggested taking the lead, it had much more to do with the crestfallen witch in the front seat than the retired Avenger's possible fatigue from driving for a few hours. Don't let Barton hear you say that.

Wanda gave you a brief smile as you took the driver's seat, and unfortunately, your attempt at conversation ended up being disastrous because you simply didn't know what to say to her.

Losing her country, and her brother, and growing up in a civil war only to be dragged from battle to battle her whole life doesn't seem like something you can fix, no matter how many bad jokes you say to try to make her smile. Still, you think you should keep trying. Because Wanda is so special, she's so sweet and clever, and you enjoy her company so much. She deserved all the good things life had to offer, even if she didn't believe it.

You end up getting so distracted by your own thoughts that you don't notice that Wanda has been stealing glances in your direction for a good few minutes until she finally calls you.

"Huh, sorry, I was distracted." You mumble, glancing at her quickly before focusing on the road again. "We'll be there in the morning if you're wondering."

She's looking at you funny. Maybe you mumbled something. It wouldn't be the first time you've let your thoughts slip away. It doesn't recall you that Wanda didn't need you to speak to know what you were thinking, and focused on the road, you didn't notice the brief red flash of her eyes either.

"I wasn't." She retorts, perhaps more harshly than she'd like. You don't know, but Wanda hates how she's a disaster whenever she tries to talk to you. But still, you never seem to mind her clumsiness. You laugh weakly, nodding. She uncrosses her arms, her nervous fingers gripping the seat. "I mean... this trip isn't so bad. And I wouldn't mind staying in the car a little longer."

You hum thoughtfully, clicking your tongue afterward. "I get it, I guess. The car feels safe, right? While we're here, no one on the team is fighting, nothing is falling apart. It's calm. It almost feels like... well, just a trip between friends." The tables have turned a bit, and now it's Wanda who feels the sudden urge to comfort you. You, who have been nothing but kind and considerate, who are watching your entire family fall apart because of a mistake she made in Lagos, even though everyone keeps telling her it wasn't her fault. 

"Maybe we should stay here." She murmurs, and at the same time, you both glance in the rearview mirror, where Clint and Scott are sleeping in the backseat. "Maybe we could just not leave." 

"We already left, Wands." You sigh sadly. One of your hands goes to the gearshift, there's a small curve in the road. "I did it, in Berlin, when I refused to fight my brother. And you did it, when you agreed to leave the Tower and get in this car." You say, one hand resting on the seat. "Maybe it's finally time for us to be proud of our choices and start standing up for what we believe in. Not just as a team, but as individuals." She knows you're talking about the accords, but she doesn't want to think about it again. Because for the past few weeks, everything has been a mess and within a few hours, she has the feeling that there won't be any more Avengers. So Wanda stops squeezing the seat and decides to squeeze your hand instead. You look at her immediately, before turning your attention back to the road. She makes a motion of pulling away, seeing your shoulders tense, but you adjust your grip to intertwine your fingers together. Her heart skips two beats in a row, but even with her voice cracking, she speaks; "You're right. We should honor our choices. And our feelings." There's a soft blush on her cheeks, which when you notice it in the rearview mirror, spreads to yours. 

You nod in agreement and don't let go of her hand anymore.