#Which I am not good at after a while I worry so much over if I'm smiling correctly or not

[marblehazel]

Deeper

dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

Part Two of Sitter

After nine months of no contact since the night Joel spent at your house, you run into him again over winter break.

Tags: Explicit MDNI, no outbreak, age gap, hurt/comfort, lots of feelings and tensions and arguing, which eventually lead to, car sex, unprotected penetration, fingering, first kiss (yay?!!)

Word count: 8.1k

You wake up disoriented.

The first thing your brain registers is how hot your face feels. After blinking a few times, you squint and look around. Sunlight is pouring through the window to the room, hitting you with what feels like a gigajoule worth of heat right on your cranium. You yank the blanket that is covering you away, cursing at how hot and sweaty you are under.

Supporting yourself up with your elbows, you plant your feet on the floor before sitting up straight, stretching your back and arms and groaning while doing so. You scare yourself hearing how nasally your voice is. Your mind runs, dissecting the events from the previous night.

Oh, right. You were sick last night. You slept in front of the TV after taking some medication. You remember the ache in your muscles and joints, the debilitating fever. How you embodied a person in Victorian times on their deathbed, pale and sickly, and all they wanted was to see the garden for one last time. You touch your forehead, and then your neck. Seems like the fever has gone away, leaving your skin sticky with sweat. Your nose isn’t stuffy anymore. And the sore throat is almost gone. You should send a love letter to Vicks headquarters.

While rubbing your face, you are hit by the sudden realization of this strangely vivid dream you had about Joel. It was definitely a wet one, on top of how it was obviously strange and came out-of-nowhere. The kind of dream only fever and probably too much Benadryl can produce. You remember that in the dream, you were watching TV with Joel, and it escalated to going down on him before he went down on you. Fuck, that was embarrassing. And so… porn-y. Straight out of a cheap adult video production company. Ooh, look at me, I’m sick and I’m alone and my dad’s hot friend came and ate my pussy out. What’s next, a plumbing guy? A pizza delivery boy?

Going upstairs is a chore. Your joints are stiff and the knob of the upstairs bathroom’s door gets stuck from time to time, and apparently today is the time. After almost kicking it down, you run the tap and give your face a good wash with cold water, resuscitating your brain cells from doxylamine-induced coma. After that, the very much needed teeth brushing.

You glance at the mirror, cringing at how disheveled your reflection looks. Maybe you should take a hot shower while you’re at it. Toothbrush still in mouth, you run your fingers through your hair, feeling the oily scalp under your fingertips.

And that’s when you find the proof of Joel’s visit. His release, not even fully dried up, is lodged between the strands of hair near your forehead. You pick at it and bring the sample to your nose, half hoping it’s snot. One whiff and it’s confirmed. The dreamy sequence of Joel Miller eating you out was, in fact, not a dream.

The realization hits like a truck. Your body is ahead of your mind and before you realize it, you’re already halfway downstairs, almost tripping and splitting your skull on the staircase. You turn the living room upside down, trying to find your phone. Eventually, you find it after digging in every crook and corner of the couch. It’s dead. You quickly plug it in and wait for the home screen to appear. 4 missed calls from your father, 2 from Amy. A bunch of texts.

Dad

Sweetie? I was asleep. I am so sorry you’re going through it alone. I called Joel. He should be on his way.

Is he there yet?

Didn’t hear from Joel and I can’t reach you. Please call me ASAP.

I hope you’re just asleep. Rest up and text me when you’re finally awake, okay 👍

Sweetie?

Amy

Your dad and I are worried sick. I hope you’re feeling better! Say hi when you’re up

Make some lemon ginger tea if your throat still feels awful

Ignoring the fact that you are pretty much shaking, you scroll until you find Joel’s contact, checking if he has left any message before leaving. The last conversation was from him last year on your birthday, to which you said thanks with a bunch of emojis. Nothing new. You check around the house, thinking maybe Joel left a note. Also nothing.

The house is eerily clean from his trace. In the kitchen you find everything is where it should be, and he even took the trash out. The front lawn seems unchanged, too. No tire marks on the driveway, no flattened grass, no dried mud in the shape of the sole of his boots on the porch. It’s like he was never here.

If you hadn’t found the remains of his semen on you, you would totally believe last night was just a dirty fantasy that somehow managed to override your brain while asleep.

You’re not sure what to do, or even how to feel. Guilt? Disgust? You guess it wouldn’t have bothered you that much if not for the fact that Joel tried his best to pretend he never visited. It makes your stomach churns.

Your phone rings. Dad.

“Sweetheart?”

“Dad,”

A relieved sigh from the other end. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. I can run a marathon.” you let out a breathy laugh. “Sorry I left you worried last night. I took some NyQuil and slept,”

That was technically not a lie.

“Yeah? I figured. Did Joel come? He said he would check, but we haven’t heard anything—”

Fucking pussy, you mouth. “Uh, I was probably asleep when he came. If—he came.”

Not only did he come figuratively, he also came metaphorically.

A faint ding sound, and your father pauses to read the notification. “Ah, there he is! Sorry… Car broke down… Phone died… Couldn’t find the damn charger. Ha!”

You chuckle dryly, heart sinking. “Yeah, it was storming last night, too, so…”

“Ah,” he gasps. “Well I sure do hope he wasn’t in the middle of the road when his car broke down! Did I tell you about that one time a chair—“

You can’t hear anything past that.

.

Joel is scared.

He hasn’t stopped thinking about what happened since the second he left your house. He doesn’t even remember driving home. One moment he was grinning as you skipped your way to the land of dreams, the next he was pulling on his jeans with shaking hands, and then he was standing in the middle of his kitchen staring at the microwave clock, heart thundering like he just ran ten miles.

What the fuck did I do? It plays in his head on a loop, over and over again. Not the way your mouth felt, not the way your voice cracked when you begged, not even the way you looked up at him with those wet, feverish eyes like you needed him more than air. No. None of the good stuff. Just the guilt. The sinking, oil-thick weight in his chest when he looked down at you and remembered who you were. Who your father is. What you meant to him before last night blurred all the lines.

At work, he drops a box on his foot. Snaps at someone who didn’t deserve it. Spends a full ten minutes staring at a power drill someone hands to him to fix, unable to remember what the fuck he’s supposed to be doing. His head isn’t screwed on right. It’s full of images he doesn’t want to replay, and feelings he doesn’t know what to do with.

You text him mid-afternoon.

Thank you for last night. I hope you have a good day at work.

He sees it pop up on his screen while he’s staring blankly at the schedule of the construction, unable to assess whether it’s on track or not. He doesn’t open the message. Doesn’t reply. Can’t.

Another one comes two hours later.

Can we talk? I was thinking maybe dinner. At my place, or yours, or anywhere you want. Please?

He turns his phone off and tells himself it’s the right thing. That not answering is kinder than… indulging you. That if he keeps quiet, maybe it’ll just fade. Maybe you’ll forget. Or at least catch the hint.

He spends the rest of the day in silence. Takes the long way home. Opens a beer and leaves it on the counter untouched. Stares out the window until the sun goes down and he’s just a silhouette in his own house. Feels like a coward. Because he is.

He knows he should regret it because it was wrong.

He does regret it.

But with each minute passing, it comes to his mind that he doesn’t regret making you come apart in his hands as much as he regrets—and realizes —how badly he’s wanted it for longer than he should have. How despite him trying so hard to deny and fight himself on it, the first word that came to his mind when you looked at him like that last night, all flushed and needy and trusting as he spent himself on you, was ‘finally’.

Back at your place, you sit curled on the couch with your phone in your hands, screen glowing against your knees. You check it every few minutes. Nothing. You start composing a message, delete it. Try again. Delete that one too. Eventually, you just set the phone down and bury your face in your hands.

You don’t even know why you’re crying. Maybe it’s the way he left. Or the way he’s pretending it didn’t happen. Or maybe it’s just that being sick and alone is already shitty enough without adding heartbreak to the list.

Heartbreak? You laugh at your own thoughts, but nothing comes out of your vocal cord.

You eat some stale bread over the sink for dinner that night, tears still running down your cheeks.

.

You make up your mind around noon, halfway through a cold cup of tea you never meant to finish. The ache in your chest hasn't dulled, not even after crying yourself to sleep and waking up three separate times just to check your phone like some pathetic addict. No new messages. No missed calls. You drive over to his house like a goddamn lunatic, cursing yourself when you keep checking yourself on the rearview mirror like Joel would care.

You wait. Hours pass. The sun shifts. You scroll. You text Amy some bullshit about feeling “a little better.” You rehearse what you're going to say and then un-rehearse it because you know damn well you’ll go off-script the second you see his face.

Every truck that drove by had your heart in your throat, but none of them were Joel’s until now. You see the familiar beat-up Ford come up the street, slow into the driveway. Your whole body goes still. His expression passes through surprise, confusion, resignation. Then he gets out, slams the door, and approaches.

“What are you doin’ here?” he says, cautious. Almost gentle.

You shrug like you just happened to be in the neighborhood. “Thought we could talk.”

Joel doesn’t say anything at first, just exhales through his nose and unlocks the door. “C’mon in.”

The house is dim, cooled by the late afternoon. Lived-in, but quiet. He toes off his boots at the entryway. You follow suit.

“Been out here long?” he asks, not looking at you.

“Just a bit,” you lie.

He nods like he knows you’re lying. Heads to the kitchen, opens the fridge.

“You hungry?”

“No.”

“I got leftovers. Chicken and rice. You could eat.”

You smirk, bitter and tired. “I gotta say, you have a very interesting modus operandi. Feed me, eat my pussy, then act like I don’t exist, and then feed me again. By the pattern I guess you’ll eat my pussy again after this? Can’t wait.”

Joel closes the fridge, slow and quiet. Doesn’t move. “Quit it, kid.”

“Quit it, kid,” You parrot him, leaning against the counter, trying to keep your cool. “Oh sorry, you know, for having the balls to talk to your face.”

His face doesn’t shift, not even the tiniest bit, and it only pisses you off more. “The way you were just, gone, and all. Didn’t even leave a note or something. Lied to my dad, saying you didn’t even come over. Like it was so disgusting you don’t even want to remember. Like I was disgusting.” Each word is delivered sharper than the last without you meaning to.

He sighs. Deep, guttural. Like this whole thing is dragging something out of him he’s spent years trying to bury. He finally looks at you, and you wish he wouldn’t. There’s too much in his eyes. Grief, guilt, something like longing, but dulled at the edges.

“It was a mistake,” he says, low.

You hold your arms across your chest like they might catch you if you fall. “You didn’t stop me. You could, but you didn’t. You wanted it as much as I did, Joel.”

“I know.” He takes a small step toward you, then stops himself. “And I ain’t proud of that.”

“Why?” Own it, Joel, don’t take it back, you want to say, but your voice cracks before you can voice the rest of it out loud.

“Because you’re you,” he echoes, pain blooming in every syllable. “Because I’ve known you forever. Because I used to sit on that porch with your dad talkin’ about you. Because I care about you and that means I shouldn’t want you the way I do.”

You blink fast. The weight of it lands too heavy in your gut, and you both stand in silence for what feels like years.

“You know,” you say, forcing levity. “It’s not like I was about to ask you to marry me.”

Joel exhales through a tired, pained laugh. “Didn’t think you were.”

Joel looks at you for a long, long moment. And when he finds you silent, processing, his voice softens again—dangerously soft, like the floor’s about to give way.

“You’re beautiful. You’re strong. One day you’re gonna have someone who sees you and knows exactly what you need and gives it without all this…mess.”

“But it won’t be you.” you look at him, fighting the feeling of barbed wire closing around your throat.

“No. It won’t be me.”

The way he said it. Soft. Like he was trying not to scare a stray duckling away. Like he was mending pieces of a broken vase and loud noises would make it shatter again. He knows you. You know he’s not trying to hurt you. But it still stings, opening an old wound somewhere that you can’t locate.

The silence after that is unbearable. You hate that he said it kindly. You wish he’d screamed, or thrown something, or just been a dick so you’d have a reason to stay angry. But no. He just says it with that same sad softness that makes your chest cave in.

You force a brittle laugh. “Well. I guess I’ll go let someone else ruin my life, then.”

Joel’s mouth twitches like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t.

You move to the door. “Take care, Joel.”

“You too, kid.”

“And. Sorry.”

“Oh, don’t. My fault as much as yours.”

“Yeah. I hope you, uh, go find someone that’s not… uh,”

“My friend’s kid?” Joel cuts, filling in the blank.

“Yeah,” you laugh dryly.

“Right,” Joel concurs. “Someone that’s not, uh, affiliated with me, I guess.”

.

You don’t see Joel again after that. You don’t tell a soul about what happened, either.

After that conversation with Joel, you drive your blue Pontiac Vibe back home, all teary and snotty. Two days after that you spend in front of the TV, eyes pointed at the screen but mind elsewhere. Your tears dry soon after, and you ridicule yourself for reacting so strongly over the whole thing like you are going through a divorce or something. You blame it on the hormones.

Your father and Amy come back home later that week, all tanned and radiant. They bring back a vintage jewelry dish for you and a leather wallet for Joel, plus a couple bottles of artisan wine. Your father suggests inviting Joel over for dinner before you go back to school, but before you get to find a convincing excuse to not have to participate in said dinner, Joel declines the invite, saying he is busy handling a big project. While setting the jewelry dish on your vanity, you lament how you should’ve probably gone to Italy instead of staying home.

That weekend you drive back to college. Nothing really changes. Same old routines of going to class and the library, occasional hangouts with friends. By three or four weeks, you have forgotten how seemingly serious the whole ordeal was. The days stretch out, lazily unfolding into summer.

Your father proposes to Amy in July. They send you pictures of the ring and them smiling. Amy cries tears of happiness on the phone, and you discuss the best time to hold the wedding and where, what color and theme, which friends and acquaintances should get invited, and if you’d bring a special someone. You laugh it off.

One day late summer your father sends pictures of him and Joel fishing. Joel is wearing a baseball cap in the picture, biceps flexing as he’s holding the biggest bass you had ever seen, its green scales glistening under the sun. God, he is insufferable. Isn’t bass hard to catch during this time? Even a fish finds Joel irresistible, it seems like. Your father puts his classic goofy smile while having his arms out, holding a phantom fish. In the other picture is Tommy with a catfish. “Day out with the boys 👍” your father captions.

.

Summer goes by, and fall doesn't stay long. You don’t go home for Thanksgiving, opting to take a few small jobs around the school while taking care of your roommate who landed on her ankle wrong trying to copy a girl from the cheer team.

When winter break starts, she’s picked up by her family and you drive back to your hometown, the two hour trip spent singing and pointing at things around the highway to yourself.

You hug your father and Amy first thing after stepping out of the car. The first meal you have together is warm, fun, familiar. You do the dishes and plan to catch up with old friends in town before Christmas.

The next day, you go out to go Christmas shopping. You have secured a really nice silk scarf for Amy after seeing a same one worn by a friend in school that you think would totally go well with her purse, but nothing yet for your father. He’d be satisfied with a tie or a pair of socks, but maybe you’ll get some air dry clay and sculpt something to keep on his nightstand.

After copping some art supplies, wrapping paper, and ribbons from a chaotic Hobby Lobby, you walk around the mall and get a few books your father might like. Next stop is a makeup store, and you swatch some lipstick on the back of your hand before checking out two, one for yourself and one to fill Amy’s stocking.

You catch up with an old friend in the afternoon, drinking smoothies instead of margaritas because she’s apparently pregnant. Baby Daddy? Your crush in middle school. They didn’t know each other until last January, when she hit his truck trying to parallel park and exchanged numbers to give him her insurance information and they allegedly “fell in love at first sight”. It’s not like you and this guy had ever progressed past stealing glances in the hallway, but it still hurts your ego and quite possibly starts a premature existential crisis. Quarter-life crisis, if you will.

You say goodbye and decide that you need a drink. In the area is a sports bar, and for a brief period you think any kind of bar will do as long as they got liquor. But inside the bar there are far too many people occupying a limited space waiting for the game to begin on large TVs mounted over the bar, and it doesn’t seem suitable to drink and maybe cry while people are cursing over a missed field goal. You quickly go back to your car, feeling suffocated, and flee the scene.

The road was surprisingly clear, as is the sky, but the radio plays the most obnoxiously ill-sounding songs that get to your temper. You smash the buttons, almost hitting the curb. Twenty curse words don’t satisfy you and you turn the car and rear into an empty parking spot in the back of a bar that looks quieter than the one you previously visited. You ditch your sweater, leaving out a padded tank top that shows your outline in the best way, thinking maybe you can at least get somebody inside to notice—maybe even fuck the feeling of being left behind out of your brain in the parking lot. Anyone. Anything, really. Maybe the universe will feel bad and throw a fall-in-love-at-first-sight there for free, too.

Your eyes sweep the vicinity upon entering. It’s quiet inside. Even the jukebox is playing on a low volume. Under ten people are scattered around the tables and bar, some of them conversing, a tall man playing pool by himself, the bartender straightening bottles on the shelf.

A familiar figure is sitting alone on the stool by the bar, his shoulders stretched to the front, posture almost slumped, but it doesn’t hide the broad that his frame is. Your heart sinks when you realize who it is.

“Joel,” You call from behind him. Upon hearing his name, he slightly turns his back and his eyes find yours.

“Kid!” He raises his eyebrows in surprise, teeth showing behind his almost-too-long beard that he likes to grow out every winter. He stands up and almost opens both of his arms to embrace you before he visibly realizes something, pulling you into a side hug instead, giving a couple pats to your arm.

“Been a while,” he says as he sits back down. You take a seat on the dark wooden stool beside him, placing your purse on the bar.

He asks what you want to drink and gestures to the bartender after you tell him you’ll have what he’s having. He then slightly faces you before asking when you arrived in town.

“Couple days ago,” you fidget with the bottle just set in front of you. It’s cold under your fingertips, and you can feel the condensation forming. “You looked so gloomy. Can’t find someone here that is not affiliated with you to take home?” You gently nudge his shoulder, teasing.

Joel chuckles, shaking his head before taking another swig of his beer. 

“Eh, just usual shit day at work,” he shrugs.

“People still renovate this time of the year?” you furrow your brows.

“That’s the thing—They’re pushin’ for everythin’ to be done in one night before family comes over like I'm a genie in a lamp.”

You chuckle sympathetically before taking a sip of the beer. The smooth rounded glass mouth touching your lips, your lip gloss staining the already foggy surface. You feel Joel staring, and you would prefer it if it wasn’t true. But you don’t check to confirm. The carbonation is sizzling weakly on your tongue. Hops and malt are not exactly your favorite. But what wouldn’t you give to appear more relatable in Joel Miller’s eyes? When you set the bottle down on the bar, Joel is looking at his own bottle.

“How’s the old man?” he asks, shifting in his seat.

“Oh, the usual.” You smile. “Did Dad invite you over for dinner on Christmas Eve, yet? If not, you’re invited.”

Joel smiles. Your father did, and he said no, but he lets himself enjoy your courtesy, avoiding declining your invitation blatantly. He then asks if you’re on track to graduate next year, to which you spoil him with the stories of things that had happened to you during the nine-months of no contact with him. He listens intently, chuckling as you go, at one point supporting the side of his head using his hand with elbow on the bar. You look so lovely under the warm overhead light, and Joel suppresses the urge to focus on how your eyes gleam instead of your story.

You don’t change at all, he thinks. Still as sweet as ever. He’s amused by how you seem unaffected by whatever happened between the two of you. The cheerful optimism, almost naive way of thinking that is only wasted on the youth. Or maybe it just didn’t mean that much to you, he reckons. 

Somehow the thought breaks his heart.

In this new angle his eyes catch the pool player eyeing you before moving to him. Joel’s pretty sure the stickman furrows his brows before looking at you again, an unreadable expression on his face. Like questioning.

Like accusing.

Suddenly he becomes hyper aware of how this looks again, of his age, of your age, of how he’s betraying the only person he can call a friend, of how he’s ‘preying’ on the young or something. His shoulders are getting tense, his spine leaning ever so slightly away from you.

He’s being paranoid. He’s not even touching you. The last time his skin touched your skin was almost a year ago. But he can’t help himself.

“…and they said they are probably gonna get married next year when the baby’s here, and it’s not like I’m angry, or jealous, you know? It’s just—“

“Sorry, I’m gonna, uh, use the restroom.” he clears his throat before scurrying away. You mutter a quick ‘okay’ before fidgeting with your bottle again, wondering if you killed the vibe by telling him the old friend old crush situation. Maybe that kind of story is best reserved for a person like your roommate and not a fifty something year old contractor that you fucked once. Well, you didn’t exactly fuck him. But.

You sigh and stare into the neck of your bottle. The soft hum of the jukebox continues, a Teddy Pendergrass song now drifting in like fog. You tap your nail absent-mindedly against the glass, annoyed at yourself for rambling, for oversharing, for hoping too much again. Not to mention how acutely aware you are of how cold your shoulders feel now, how your exposed arms—meant to be a silent dare to the universe—now just make you look lost. Just a sad and lonely fool looking for some quick-relief, when you know deep inside that’s not what you want at all, now that you’ve seen him again.

You feel... stupid. Joel might not even come back—he probably has left the bar now for all you know, not being able to handle this again. You reach for your purse, pretending to search for something to stop yourself from thinking.

A voice interrupts.

“Trouble in paradise?”

You turn slightly. The pool player—tall, maybe late twenties, shaggy hair and a smirk that tells you everything you need to know—has approached and is now leaning one elbow against the bar. Too close. To think that you would’ve been waiting for this moment if not for meeting Joel…

And, god, he’s not it. Not even close. All you can see now is how un-Joel he is. You’re offended you almost let yourself settle for this. You straighten a bit. “Excuse me?”

He gestures loosely toward the empty stool beside you. “Mind if I sit?”

“I do.”

That makes him chuckle, but he sits anyway. “Didn’t mean to overhear, but sounds like you and your... old man had a disagreement.”

You blink slowly, then roll your eyes. “He’s not my dad.”

“Oh,” the guy replies, his eyes shifting a little like he’s just caught the scent of blood. “So... that older guy isn’t your father. Interesting.”

“Not really,” you say coolly. “He’s just someone I know.”

“Sure. Someone you know.” He lets the words hang in the air, thick with implication. “Well then. I was gonna say, it’s a shame someone like you is wasting your night sitting next to—what is he, your boss or somethin’?”

You push your bottle away, now entirely uninterested in the drink or the conversation. “Do you want something or are you just trying to see how many wrong assumptions you can fit into a minute?”

He leans in just a touch, eyes gleaming like he thinks this is all flirtation. “How about we step outside? Get some air. I know a place not far from here where you can actually hear yourself think.”

“I don’t need air,” you reply evenly. “I need you to get lost.”

The guy’s smile falters for a second, just enough to show what’s underneath—the entitlement, the ugly little bruise of a rejected ego.

“You sure? Doesn’t look like that guy’s coming back anytime soon.”

You don’t get to answer.

“She said she’s good.”

You both turn. Joel’s standing just behind the man now, tall and still, a hand resting loosely at his side. His expression is deceptively calm, but his eyes are hard, unblinking.

The pool guy sizes Joel up for half a second, like he’s thinking of saying something else—but he doesn't. He just shrugs and backs off.

“No harm meant, man,” he mutters, walking off toward the tables again.

Joel waits until the guy is fully gone before he turns to you. “You alright?”

You nod once, your face hot. “Yeah. I was fine.”

Joel doesn’t say anything. He just settles back onto the stool beside you and places his bottle down, fingers wrapping around the glass with a quiet tension.

For a moment, neither of you speak.

You glance over. Joel’s jaw is clenched. His thumb moves idly over a drop of condensation on the bottle. You want to say something to lighten the moment, but your throat is tight. There’s something about the way he’s sitting—close but not too close. Like if he touches you he’ll lose the reins completely. But still, he stayed. Still, he came back.

“Thanks for stepping in,” you say softly.

Joel turns his head to you then, eyes meeting yours with that unbearable softness he reserves only for the moments where he’s too tired to hide it. He looks like he wants to say something but doesn’t trust himself to do it.

“I’d do it again.” he says.

The jukebox changes to a quieter track. You wonder if he knows what he just said. If he knows what he means.

“Ain’t you cold in that?” Joel gestures toward you with the heel of his bottle. He takes a quick gulp right after, like the words tasted too vulnerable coming out and need to be drowned fast.

You blink at him. “Oh—this?” You look down at yourself, arms bare, chest rising in the tight tank top. Suddenly you feel exposed, and not in the sexy, power-holding way you imagined when you ditch the outer layer of the outfit. “Left my coat in the car. Thought it’d be warmer in here.”

Joel’s mouth presses into a line. He nods like he accepts that, but it bugs him. You can tell. He drains the rest of his bottle and taps the bar for the check.

You step outside a few minutes later together, the door shutting behind you with a low mechanical thunk. The cold hits instantly. You cross your arms in front of your chest, trying to fake composure, but it bites through the fabric quick. Joel walks beside you in silence, hands deep in his pockets, his boots heavy against the pavement.

“You sure you’re alright to drive?” he asks, voice low.

“Yeah. Only had the one.” You shrug, still not looking at him.

The parking lot’s near empty. His truck and your car sit apart, like siblings who got into a fight and were told to face opposite corners. Nine months, wasted down the drain. You could’ve lived a very different life if he didn’t push you away—maybe today would’ve been an illicit date instead, your arms linking, his jacket on your shoulders. Alas.

“Guess this is where we say goodbye again,” you mutter, half-laughing, but it lands bitter and brittle in the cold air.

Joel exhales, annoyed. “Don’t start.”

“What?” You turn to face him now, jaw set, but the disbelieving scoffs can’t stop making their presence known, and you’re halfway to freeze to death yet the glacier encasing your anger, your sadness, is melting down out of nowhere. “You don’t like hearing how it felt like shit?”

Joel blinks. “That’s not what I—”

“No, I know what you said,” you snap, stepping closer, heat rising in your throat. “You said it wasn’t right. You said it shouldn’t have happened. I heard you the first time, Joel, pretty much the only thing I could think about for the past nine months, by the way.”

He closes his eyes briefly, like he’s trying to shut it out. “Shut up, for god’s sake, just, cut it, it’s not—” He stops himself, lips pressing into a hard line.

“It’s not right? Yeah, it’s not fucking right alright, Joel. Sorry I manipulated you into agreeing to get your dick sucked or something. My fault.” You throw your hands in the air, desperate to leave, to drive and step on the gas, yet your feet are unbudging.

“Kid,”

“I’m not a kid!” you snap, eyes burning. And you fucking hate how much you’re the only one ‘furious’ and ‘emotional' here, essentially proving yourself to be as immature as Joel probably thinks. It makes your head spin with rage. He says something, but you keep shooting. “Stop calling me that. I came into that bar tonight thinking maybe, maybe, I could move on—and then I saw you, because of course, of course of all places and all fucking time in the entirety of Austin County you had to be there—and I knew. I can’t.” 

“You’re bleeding,�� he says again, clearer, louder.

You blink. “What?”

“Your nose. It’s—shit—” He fumbles in his coat pocket and pulls out a napkin, stepping forward to press it into your hand. “Here.”

You touch your nose and wince at the warm stickiness trickling down your lip.

“Goddammit,” you mutter, tilting your head back, suddenly humiliated. You swipe at it, annoyed, feeling foolish and hot all over. The cold, maybe. Or your body just caving under the weight of it all.

“Get in the truck,” Joel says.

“I’m fine,” you mumble, eyes stinging.

“Get in the goddamn truck.” he says again, and you finally move.

The inside of the truck is still warm. You climb in stiffly, heart still pounding from the fight, blood still trickling into the damp napkin. Joel gets in a second later, slamming the door, rummaging through the console for something better than the now-soaked paper.

The silence is thick.

You sit there, breathing hard, your throat tight. Joel shifts in his seat, jaw ticking, hands clenched on the wheel like it's the only thing keeping him tethered. You dab at your nose with a fresh tissue, watching the red smear dull across the paper. You're still simmering, blood still hot, even as your face feels cold and clammy.

“I’m sorry, Joel,” you whisper, voice hoarse. “But you can’t blame me for feeling.”

He turns then. Slowly. Like if he moves too fast, he might break something. His eyes are molten, locked on yours, full of restraint barely holding.

“You think I don’t feel?” he says, voice low and rough, like gravel sliding down a slope. “You think I don’t—every fuckin’ day—I try not to think about it. About you.” His chest rises like he’s swallowing a scream. “You walked in that bar tonight and I swear to god—”

The air goes taut.

Something in him snaps.

One hand reaches across the console, rough fingers curling around the back of your neck, the other on your thigh, hauling you over the center divide like the whole world is breaking under him and you’re the only thing he needs to hold onto.

And then he kisses you.

His mouth crashes onto yours with months of hunger behind it, years of guilt and need unraveling all at once. It’s not careful or measured—it’s needy, punishing. Teeth clashing, lips bruising, breath stolen. You gasp into his mouth and clutch the front of his jacket like you’ll die if he pulls away.

Your legs are halfway in his lap now, the cold forgotten, the bloody napkin crumpled under your thigh. His hand tangles in your hair, tilting your head just how he wants it, deepening the kiss until your moan slips free—and he lets out a low sound from his throat, like he’s been starving and just remembered what full tastes like.

When he pulls back, just barely, your lips are slick, swollen. You chase him, whimpering, desperate for more, but he’s just looking at you.

“This is wrong,” he murmurs, voice shaking.

“Then stop,” you whisper back, eyes locked on his.

His breath stutters. His mouth opens. But the words don’t come.

Because he can’t.

The second kiss is worse—worse because it’s better. Hotter. Deeper. There’s no hesitation in it now. No breath between. Joel’s hand cradles the back of your head as your mouth parts under his, teeth catching on his lip before he swallows the sound you make. It’s a kiss meant to punish both of you—for the months you lost, for the things unsaid, for the heat neither of you dared acknowledge until now.

You shift closer, knee on the seat, hands fumbling for his jacket to drag him closer. Joel grunts, half in surprise, half in surrender, pulling you practically across the console. His large hands span your back like he needs to anchor himself to your body or else spin out.

When you roll your hips forward, testing the waters, he chokes out a low, broken noise that sounds like something breaking in his chest.

“Jesus, kid—”

“I’m not a kid,” you breathe. “Not with you. Never was.”

He exhales sharp through his nose, forehead still pressed to yours like he’s trying to restrain himself. But the restraint is dying fast. He palms your waist, thumbs dragging along your ribs like he’s memorizing them.

You kiss down the side of his jaw, your breath warm against his scruff, the beard tickling your lips. He smells like old leather and pine, like beer and smoke and winter air. It’s dizzying.

“Fuck,” he murmurs when you nip at the sensitive spot beneath his ear. His fingers twitch on your skin. He grabs the back of your neck and pulls you back in—no more space, no more questions. Just mouths and hands and breath. The kind of kiss that’s nearly a collision, like two storms crashing into each other.

You don’t even remember when your legs end up straddling him in the seat, your thighs bracketing his, but suddenly he’s beneath you, hands gripping your hips tight enough to bruise, and you grind down on him with a gasp you can’t swallow.

Joel curses, low and rough and reverent. His head falls back against the seat as your lips trail down his throat, and he lets you, lets you taste him, own him, just for a moment. His hand slides down your lower back, wiggling its way through your almost-too-tight pants, trembling just a little as it curves over the swell of your ass. You reach down to unclasp the button and give him more space to work with.

His mouth finds yours again, sloppier now, breathless. Your nails scrape his chest through his flannel, and he groans into your mouth like it’s killing him. And maybe it is.

You rock against him again, slower this time, deliberate. Joel exhales like he’s in pain. Not from you, never from you—but from everything else that makes this wrong when all of it feels so, so right.

You tilt your hips again, more confident now, and feel the press of him through his jeans, thick and straining. Your tank top clings to you in places now, damp from the heat growing between you, and Joel’s hand slip up beneath the hem, palms callused and warm as they coast up your spine and then over the swell of your chest, the other still fondling your ass. He breathes in sharply as his thumbs brush your nipples, and you arch into him like a lit fuse.

It’s quiet in the truck except for the rush of your breath and the sharp inhale he takes when your hands find the waistband of his jeans. Your fingers tremble only a little as you pop the button and lower the zipper. You feel him hard against your palm, feel how he flinches when your hand grazes him through his briefs.

“Jesus,” Joel murmurs against your shoulder, voice hoarse. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

You smile into his neck, nipping lightly at the stubble there. “I think I do.”

His laugh is strained, like it’s breaking on the way out. His hand dips lower, over your ass, fingers curling under the waistband of your pants. “These gotta come off,” he mutters, more to himself than to you.

You rise up just enough to shimmy your pants down—tight denim making the motion graceless, awkward even—but Joel helps, dragging them over your thighs with a touch far gentler than it has any right to be. You tug the fabric from your ankles and throw them to the backseat. Joel reaches down, kissing your lower abdomen as he pulls your panties down, almost impatient.

“Jesus,” he says again when you’re bare from the waist down, pulling you back into his lap, one hand palming your breast through the thin cotton of your top, the other settling between your thighs like it belongs there. You’re already soaked, and he groans when he feels it, followed by your own gasps and restrained moans.

“You’re killin’ me,” he whispers against your collarbone, and then you kiss him again—messy, open-mouthed, full of teeth and need. He kisses you like he’s starving. Like he wants to memorize every corner of your mouth. Like he doesn’t want to ever come up for air.

You both know this can’t last. That this little world, this heat and ache and dizzying need, exists only for now. That when it ends, things might not be the same. But none of it matters when he finally pushes his briefs down and you both freeze for just a moment—because this is the point of no return.

You meet his eyes. They’re wide and dark and a little scared, same as yours.

Then you sink down.

A gasp breaks from both of you, raw and involuntary. His hands clench hard at your hips as your bodies connect, slow but sure, the stretch pulling a sound from your throat that you try to smother against his shoulder. Joel swears again, under his breath, grounding himself in your skin, your heat.

He buries his face in your neck, breathing you in like a man on fire finally finding water.

You move in a slow rhythm. Not rushing, not taking, just being. Registering the shape of his cock inside you and the sweet symphony of squelch every time you sink back into him. His hands map your torso, breath uneven like he’s three inhales away from dying, but he’s smiling.

“Can’t believe you’re here,” he mutters. “Can’t believe I’m…”

You shush him gently, fingers threading through his hair, tugging. “Just feel. Don’t think.”

But he does think. You can feel it in the way he holds you, in the way he kisses the base of your throat like an apology and a promise all in one.

He doesn’t last long. The build-up, the months of repression, the way you move over him, how warm you are, how soft. It’s all too much.

You feel it before he does: the subtle tremble of his legs, the catch in his breath. He comes with a low, guttural sound against your neck, holding you to him like the act alone might stop time. It’s filling you up, warm and strange and by all means should make you panic, but it doesn’t. Instead, you impossibly feel the organs inside your ribs soften, the muscles of your walls clenching around him greedily, as if trying to hold onto him forever.

You go still, still joined, breath shallow and skin damp. His eyes close, jaw tight.

“Shit,” he says, guilt setting in immediately. “I—I didn’t mean to. I didn’t…”

“It’s okay,” you murmur, brushing sweaty hair from his forehead. “It’s okay, Joel.”

He doesn’t look at you as he lifts you up and turns your back to face him, your cunt already missing his softening cock. You position yourself on his lap, cheek touching his equally sweaty cheek as he holds your frame with one arm in place, the other reaches down to the still pulsing, overall sensitive skin.

“I got you,” he whispers, voice strained, remorseful, full of something you can’t name.

His fingers are slow and sure, working with grit and determination despite the narrow space and nearly awkward angle, and you reach to grab his arm.

“Joel, Joel,” you whine. The pleasure builds up, stronger this time, like it’s an arm reach away. He pins you into place, the pad of his thumb not losing its steady pace on your clit, the others somehow pushing, slightly curling inside you, covered by his own spend and your juice. You buck your hips forward, swallowing screams, it feels hot, hot, hot, your legs twitching and kicking and—

It’s like a blitz, showering you with bliss and pleasure and your body arches, chasing it like a bow.

The next thing you know, you’re limp against Joel, sweat and cum pooling on the seat.

.

“Safe trip, sweetie,” Amy hugs you one more time while your dad asks if you didn’t miss anything for the fourteenth time.

“Yes, Dad,” you sigh. “Print a checklist next time so we can both check and spare me the headache and anxiety, okay?”

You kiss his cheek and pat him on the shoulder. “Bye, guys.”

You’re releasing the clutch when you hear your dad shouts again, “Did you say goodbye to Joel?”

“Do I have to?” you laugh lightheartedly, putting your best acting attempt to look nonchalant.

Your dad shrugs. “He did give you a nice Christmas present. Be nice.”

“Yeah, alright.” you tap the steering wheel. “I’ll send him a text.”

.

The sun’s barely up when Joel shuts the trunk of your car.

Your duffel sits heavy against the bumper, almost not being able to zip up from yesterday’s clothes you crumple on top of the folded pile. The car breathes cold in the early morning air, engine idling low, your playlist queued up but not playing yet. It’s quiet. Too quiet for a goodbye, but maybe that’s the point.

You hand him his coffee back and he leans against the side of his own truck, arms folded. He’s got his jacket on, but his collar’s still turned wrong. You almost fix it, but you don’t.

It was definitely a crime to say goodbye to your unsuspecting parents and drive your car straight to Joel’s driveway, but you don’t really care about that right now. Neither does Joel, apparently.

God, you can still feel the ghost of his hands, how they held you close this morning, the fine arm hair you traced under your fingertips.

“You got everything?” he asks.

“Yeah. Got what I need.” you nod. “But if I did, I’d have a good excuse to come back.”

He chuckles. Finally, he sets the coffee on the truck bed and steps toward you.

“You drive safe, alright?” his voice is soft and almost impossible to hear as he pulls you for a quick hug.

“I will.”

His hand hovers near your waist for a second too long, like maybe he wants to pull you in again, kiss you senseless in the driveway—but doesn’t. Instead, he just looks at you like he’s memorizing something he can’t say out loud.

“Call me when you get there,” he says.

You smile. “You know I will."

[lsunstreakerl]

Okay, I know I’m SUPERRRR late to fmf, but that means I have a LOT of thoughts!!!!

Lowkey insane that Jos thought it would be a good idea to not tell Max his role, like surely he could have done something. Even if it was just putting the note in his chest or smth

Rico instantly staking his claim on Max w that GORGEOUS cloak is so funny to me, he hasn’t even met the guy and he wants to show him off to everyone.

Rico instantly pulling Max up when he tried to bow down made me FERAL, like I’m a lesbian but I think I want some of him too. It was just way too cute, how dare he

I want to be upset at Max for not realising, especially after seeing his MASSIVE fucking room, but like. Who assumes they’re being married off.

Again with Rico and the damn clothes, instantly throwing his cloak over Max’s shoulders as he watched his princess get accustomed with the guards, too terribly furiously cute. Even better when Rico is probably used to much warmer weather than Max so Rico has just made himself cold for no other reason than to make Max even warmer

I know that ‘kill him’ had Rico going insane. Probably used it as motivation to get everything done and go home.

Max is so fucking insane, it is so unregular to go up to what he thinks is basically his boss, with no other attachments and caress his chest, I don’t care that it saved his life, nobody else knew that then!!!

Max unfortunately girlbossed way too close to the sun. Good on him for killing Sadik, but RIP Queen get better soon.

Rico freaking the fuck out in his POV is so funny to me. He’s worried about Max, mean while Max is tearing his #1 enemy to shreds, confusing everyone and THEN passing out #queenbehaviour

GP to the rescue once again, thank god SOMEONE got it sorted out (I’m also like thrilled you didn’t decide to make the reveal some massive thing that would have given me insane amounts of second hand embarrassment, because I can deal with a lot, but not that.)

Rico doing his bandages 💞💞💞💞😭😭😭😭

Gently moving him onto his chest when Max falls asleep because he’s being too tender, and you’re telling me these two will be fucking nasty soon????? The duality of man.

Do you… uhm… do you have any measurements on that thing… like… you know… just how big.

Omg literally stop it, one of those arms are injured, which means he’s either letting Max sleep on his injured bicep (btw, very hot) or he’s brandishing out a sword with his hurt arm to protect Max AND subconsciously covering him, I literally love him so much he’s such a cutie.

Ofc Max takes absolutely no convincing to go back to sleep, esp when he can be curled into a man twice his size.

I LOVED IT 💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞

I LOVE IT SO MUCH I LOVE YOUR WRITING ITS SO GOOD IT LITERALLY DRAWS ME IN SO MUCH ITS SO CRAZY!!!!!!

Also!!! I am VERY on board with Pussy potion!!!!! (And maybe it would be a good excuse for Rico to pull out some of his very sexy hand tj hand combat moves after Max drugged/spiked/potioned/pussied/mutated/gene therapised??)

Love you so much queen, get through your finals!!!💞💞💞💞💞💞

you've unlocked a massive yap from me I am so sorry!!

it's not like they call him "Verstappen the Foward Thinking" or anything 😭 he just didn't want to have to say it to max. and then he actually lost the letter, so.

rico is SUCH a wife guy and fmf really just takes that to the extreme. like yeah he's gonna have it commissioned for his beautiful wife who totally knows what's going on- why wouldn't he??

he wants them to be partners!! it's a really big theme that I showcase in his POV's. him and max being as close to equals as possible is incredibly important to him- he doesn't want another yes man, he wants someone he can trust to lead with him. (and in case of emergency, like in the fic, without him as well.) max being so proficient in combat helps on that front as well- they really are evenly matched.

EXACTLY LIKE HOW WAS HE GONNA THINK MARRIAGE 😭 that is not where most people's minds go. especially when you think about the fact that the north is somewhat renowned for the combat skills of their soldiers, and it's well known that the kingdom was having struggles in the east. it really does sort of make sense from his prospective to assume he's being called up to train soldiers.

yes, you are correct that rico made himself colder and max warmer for no reason other than to send the castle gossip mill into an absolute tizzy. (he forgot to consider max is used to much colder temps- just saw that his new consort was outside without any protection and wanted to fix it.)

"kill him" played in his brain on loop. even though it was max who ended up handling things, it's still incredibly hot to rico, who's used to hearing all sorts of variations on "good luck" and "stay safe". max doesn't say any of those things, because up north it's not part of their cultural norms- wishing good luck is seen as telling someone their raw skill isn't enough, and asking someone to stay safe is stupid, because everyone gets hurt eventually. in max's eyes, the most supportive thing he can do is reinforce rico's purpose for leaving- the "kill him" is meant both literally and in the sense of "succeed at what you're leaving to do, and then come home."

max very much hesitated before he gave rico the hide!! not just because it reveals a vulnerability that max himself has exploited before, but also because it's an incredibly difficult material to get ahold of. but he knows saddik is going to be a formidable enemy, and if max and his people have noticed the flaw in the kingdom armor, there's a chance rico's real enemies have as well. max may not be aware of his position as consort at that time, but he's realizing that rico is a good leader, and max doesn't want to be stuck in the castle during a power vacuum if rico were to die. (also, he gets to feel up the hot king. fun bonus!) little does he know he's actually allowed to do that all the time

getting stabbed twice is honestly a pretty good outcome for going up against saddik. most people end up dead! max is much quicker than saddik is expecting- the style of fighting his soldiers use is particularly vulnerable to the speedy style that northern soldiers are trained in, which is why his men fall so easily to max's scouts (seen in the first rico POV). also, max is insane enough to get stabbed and keep going.

max doing all that and then still being confused despite having all the context clues on a silver platter is incredibly on brand. like babes, the king's archenemy just called you a consort and a bed warming whore, what kind of combat advisor position could you possibly think that is 😭

I would never have written it as a grand reveal or some huge thing to a bunch of people! the secondhand embarrassment would've gotten to me as well lmao. besides, it's much more on brand for max to realize quietly and then try and adapt- the same way he didn't know what his position was (and instead tried to figure it without asking). also, it's embarrassing. he's not bringing it up unless he absolutely has to. (or when gp is teasing him)

redoing his bandages and letting max sleep on him <333 love them. also was super fun to write from both POV's because max is like "oh god I'm having horny thoughts about the king- and I'm literally here so we can fuck-" and rico is like "wifey hurt :( but wow the body is incredible." and then both of them assuming the other is being Normal and Not Horny about it. (they totally could've fucked)

big.

yes!! max is sleeping on his uninjured arm, so he's holding the (heavy) sword with his (injured) arm, while also hiding max's wound, while also not really being awake yet. the husband of all time <3

max essentially being like "fuck it, since apparently we're getting married- why the hell not." and going back to bed is incredibly real of him. but with a pillow as cozy as rico, you can't really blame him.

highly illegal pussy potion does come with some varied side effects as the recipients body literally reconfigures itself, so there's. a minor freakout there. rico goes a little crazy. (mostly because it looks like a poisoning at first.)

thank you for reading and loving it so much and leaving such a wonderful comment!!! it's always so much fun for me to see all the little details and chunks that you all like the most <3 I'm having lots of fun with fmf and hopefully getting some new riders on the ver2 train- and they deserved a dedicated chapter fic.

finals continue to final. when does it end.

[palettepainter]

Sometimes selfcare is drawing your OC getting hugged

Anxiety is going through the roof right now as I try to get a job. A lot is going to on with part time work over the half term, meeting up with co-workers at a potential new job, making art for a display, meeting up for a large group project outside of art ontop of trying to see my counsellor, and all of this is JUST within the next three days

The feeling of being burnt-out and disappointed in my art and stories is just the cherry on top of the stress sundae that has become my life as of late. So this evening I decided to just do something comforting with Liv

[frozenambiguity]

Fontaine hype — REAL!

[justahumblememefarmer]

Putting some positivity out there about the election

Harris has raised a record amount of money from small donors after Biden dropped out, in addition to being able to access all the funds from their campaign they already had

Trump is deeply unpopular and people have already seen the chaos that 4 years of his presidency would bring. A lot of people have been energized to vote against him, even if they're not fond of Dems

Polling showed a red wave for Republicans in the 2022 midterms, and yet they only barely had control of the House, and couldn't even agree on a Speaker for a historic amount of time. Dems also increased their lead in the Senate. Historically, midterms favor the opposition party and have lower turnout, so this is a good sign for the House in 2024

Dems are fighting back in swing states. PA and GA both put in Democratic senators in the midterms

In my home state of PA, I am from Bucks County, which is a swing county for the state. Moms for Libery took over the school board and used it to attack queer students, enact book bans, and funnel money to themselves and the superintendent. At the most recent election, Dems turned out and took back every single open seat, ousting the board and superintendent. Worry about similar takeovers in surrounding school boards also increased turnout

Abortion rights are on the ballot in many states, which has been a winning issue for Dems and increased turnout

Republicans were prepared to attack a feeble old Biden who isn't the strongest speaker. I don't think they expected him to actually drop out, and they now have to put an 78 year old convicted felon up against a prosecutor

Awareness of Project 2025 and it's contents has entered the public sphere and is being much more openly discussed on the news. While Trump has insisted he has nothing to do with it, most of the authors worked in his administration and Trump has worked closely with the Heritage foundation

Feel free to add more things on this thread, but the most important thing is to get out there and VOTE

Vote for President

Vote for Senators

Vote for Congresspeople

Vote in your local elections

Vote Blue down ballot

[burningcomputerpersona]

also how is it that spanish love songs has such good merch??? i don't think I've ever been to a show before where I had to struggle so hard to pick just one thing, like in a lot of cases there's only really one thing that appeals to me or I just get something bc i love the band and need to have them on me regardless of what the design looks like. but i was spending ages just staring at the merch stand trying to pick one out of alllll the things i wanted

[navybrat817]

I am warm and full and cozy and thinking about Bucky who has gotten a few pounds on his stomach, not bc he has to bulk for a mission or anything but bc he's save and get three square meals and a snack every day. Lots of love and a pie on Sunday. The dream honestly

Answering this on a Monday but I feel very cozy about it!

Just Right

Pairing: Chubby!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky learns to love food again, and his body.

Word Count: Over 750

Warnings: Mentions of HYDRA, recovery, body positivity, reference to oral sex, bit of humor, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: I may need to do more of this, and much appreciated for the inspiration @v-wie-was. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky who was now able to have breakfast, lunch, and dinner with snacks in between each meal and dessert after dinner, which took some getting used to.

Bucky who didn’t get to overindulge in foods he enjoyed while he was under HYDRA’s control. He was given enough to maintain his strength and nothing more and he never decided on what they provided. 

Bucky who, when he thought about it, didn’t get to enjoy food since before he went off to war. He ate to sustain and survive and nothing more.

Bucky who had to learn all over again what he liked and disliked once he was free. Being able to choose was overwhelming and he almost broke down the first time he bought plums simply because he wanted them.

Bucky who with his heightened senses learned to appreciate certain smells and tastes and learned which places to avoid so it didn’t feel like sensory overload. He also learned which flavors he could never get enough of and which ones he could only handle in small doses.

Bucky who had to figure out how much he could eat to feel full and not stop because of his old programming. He also told himself not to feel guilty if he had a few more bites because it was more than allowed.

Bucky who met you at the store one day when you both reached for the same plum. That day changed his life. 

Bucky who, like a gentleman, let you have the plum and couldn't stop staring at you since you were so beautiful. 

Bucky who couldn't think of a witty reply when you boldly offered him your phone number in return, so he gave you an awkward smile that you found endearing.

Bucky who was happy you took a chance since you were easy to talk to. You also taught him that food emojis could be… taken a certain way, which he learned when he sent an eggplant and peach together.

Bucky who couldn’t find it in himself to feel embarrassed because he was talking about food, and he wanted you.

Bucky who enjoyed cooking with you and smiled wistfully when he thought about his family. How his mom always put so much love into her cooking. 

Bucky who made a mess of his shirt one day because he was trying to eat something messy and read at the same time. And you groaned because you had just finished laundry earlier.

Bucky who grew to appreciate messes like that because they felt normal.

Bucky who noticed almost immediately when his clothes began to fit differently, eventually to the point where they were too snug.

Bucky who felt slightly worried when he told you his clothes were too tight and had to go shopping. He wanted to be attractive to you.

Bucky who felt his heart swell when you not only told him he looked good no matter what but offered to go shopping with him. 

Bucky who felt handsome trying on new clothes since they fit properly and just right. The confidence grew when he saw your pupils dilate more and more with each outfit he tried on.

Bucky who also heard your heart race faster and smelled your arousal.

Bucky who didn’t get to make it home before you dropped to your knees to worship him. You made sure to place extra kisses on his stomach on your way down.

Bucky who hardly let people touch him, but welcomed your touch and let you paint him like a canvas with your love and desire. 

Bucky who had a huge smile on his face after the mind-blowing orgasm you gave him along with a promise of pie for dessert. He wanted you for dessert, too.

Bucky who associated certain foods with you because, like you, they brought him joy, comfort, and were downright delicious. 

 Bucky who stood in the kitchen while he waited for dinner to cool off and looked down at his stomach with a smile, reminding himself that any extra pound was just more of him to love and you’d love him no matter what. 

Bucky who thought about how comfortable he was in his skin because he was healthy and able to make his own choices. 

Bucky who gazed at you from across the room and couldn’t believe this was his life, that he found peace, happiness, and love. 

Bucky who was crazy about you and couldn't imagine a meal without you. Or his life.

And Bucky who finally felt safe and free. 

Okay, lovelies, what do we think his favorite dessert is? Besides you. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[drewsephrry]

Love Island: Episode 3 - Everyone deserves a second chance, right?

series masterlist

pairings: rafe cameron x fem!reader

words: 4k

warnings: cuss words

The next day, after the recoupling, the lights flicker on, making the islanders groan.

“Good morning!” Kiara exclaims cheerfully, stretching.

“Oh, girl, shut up!” Cleo replies, burying her head back in her pillow, making everyone laugh. Y/N adjusts her hoodie and looks around tiredly, her eyes landing on Rafe chatting with Topper and Alyssa staring down at her phone.

“Hey, you okay?” Maddy asks, crawling under the covers of Y/N's bed and snuggling up to her. Y/N nods.

“It’s okay not to be.” Maddy adds, gently rubbing her back.

“I’m okay, Mads. Truly. I don’t wanna hold any grudges against her and I don’t care if they’re sleeping in the same bed. I’m not worried.” Y/N responds.

“I wish I was as fuckless as you.” Maddy murmurs, adjusting her glasses.

“Fuckless?” Y/N chuckles, raising her eyebrows.

“Yeah. ‘Cause you don’t give a fuck, girl. You know what you want and you’re gonna get it. You don’t let anything get in the way. Or anyone.” Maddy explains, making Y/N laugh again.

“Believe me, I am far from being ‘fuckless’.” She says, shaking her head.

“Good for you, girl!” Sarah smiles, sitting on the other side of the bed. “I haven’t had sex in…months. I probably got cobwebs and shit down there by now.” She says, leaning her head on Y/N's shoulder as she and Maddy burst into laughter.

“That was definitely not what we were talking about, Sar!” Maddy exclaims.

“Oh!” Sarah giggles. “Okay, fill me in.”

“Maddy thinks I don’t give a damn about what happened. Which isn’t true. And before you ask too, I’m okay. Truly.” Y/N explains and Sarah nods.

“That's good. So, what's your plan for today?” She asks, twiddling with the string of her sleep shorts.

“I think I'm gonna talk to her.” She murmurs and Sarah raises her head from her shoulder as Maddy widens her eyes.

“Talk to her? After what she did?” Maddy asks, raising a brow.

“I told you, I'm not holding any grudges against her.” Y/N repeats herself making Sarah scoff and lean back on the headboard.

“I wish I was like that.” Sarah mutters and Y/N gives her a reassuring pat on the head. The girls rise from their seats and head to the makeup room, chatting as they start getting ready. They slip into their swimsuits, fix their hair and apply makeup before heading downstairs to the kitchen.

It's noon before anyone realizes it. Cleo and Pope are splashing around in the pool, laughing over some science fact Pope just dropped. Sarah, Kiara and Maddie are snacking in the kitchen, while JJ, John B and Rafe lounge by the firepit, deep in conversation. Y/N, still groggy from a much needed nap, steps outside, scanning the villa. Her eyes land on Alyssa sitting at the daybed, chatting with Topper. She hesitates for a moment before approaching with a small smile.

“Hey, guys.” She greets warmly.

“Y/N/N, what's up?” Topper grins, immediately making space for her. Alyssa, on the other hand, barely acknowledges her, twirling a piece of hair around her finger.

“Actually.” Y/N starts, shifting her gaze to Alyssa. “I wanted to talk to you.” Alyssa raises an eyebrow, caught off guard. Topper glances between them before nodding.

“I'll give you guys a minute.” As he passes Y/N, he squeezes her shoulder lightly before walking away. Y/N takes a seat beside Alyssa and clears her throat.

“Look, I get it. You might not want to talk to me and that’s fine.” She begins, voice steady. “But I want to be upfront with you. We had a pretty rocky start and I hate that. I never wanted you to feel unwelcome here. And the whole situation with Rafe…it’s complicated.” Alyssa sighs, her fingers still fidgeting with her hair.

“I know you said you weren’t looking to make friends here and that’s your choice. But the thought of us spending the whole summer together with you having no one to confide in? That doesn’t sit right with me.” Alyssa is quiet for a moment before exhaling slowly.

“I shouldn’t have said that.” She admits. “I guess…I do want to be friends with you. And with the rest of the girls, too. So, I’m sorry for how I acted. It wasn’t your fault or anyone’s. I’ve just always been kind of a loner. It’s easier that way.” She pauses, then adds. “But you’re right. We’re all stuck here together and eventually, I’m going to want someone in my corner.” Y/N nods, understanding and Alyssa shifts uncomfortably.

“About Rafe…”

“Can I just say something?” Y/N interrupts gently. “You did the right thing.”

“What?” Alyssa blinks in surprise.

“You came in here looking for a real connection. You found Rafe attractive, he made you feel comfortable and you went for it. That’s exactly what you were supposed to do.” Y/N explains. “Me and Rafe? We’re having fun, sure. We like each other…yeah. But it’s early. Nothing is set in stone. And I would never want to be the reason he or you held back from exploring something real.” Alyssa stares at her, eyes narrowing slightly.

“Why aren’t you mad?” She asks making Y/N laugh under her breath.

“What do you mean?”

“I basically stole your guy.” Alyssa says bluntly. “And I was kind of a bitch about it. If I were you, I’d be avoiding me, not trying to make peace.”

“Everyone deserves a second chance.” She shrugs. “Besides, I suck at holding grudges.” Alyssa studies her for a second before breaking into a smile. She opens her arms slowly.

“Come on, then…friend.”

Y/N chuckles before leaning in to hug her.

John B chuckles at something JJ says, shaking his head before his gaze shifts toward the daybed. His laughter falters as he catches an unexpected sight.

“Dude…” He smacks Rafe’s arm, eyes widening. “Are Alyssa and Y/N hugging?” JJ lifts his sunglasses on his head and squints.

“Oh my god!” He rubs his eyes dramatically. “Either that or Alyssa is strangling her.” Rafe, who had been half-listening, immediately sits up straighter, his brows furrowing. His gaze locks onto the two girls, watching as Y/N pulls away from the hug with a small smile while Alyssa seems genuine.

“What the hell did I miss?” Rafe mutters, still processing and JJ shakes his head in disbelief.

“Man, this villa moves too fast. One minute it’s war, the next, it’s…this.”

“So, should we be worried?” John B smirks, nudging him.

Rafe doesn’t answer immediately, his jaw tightening slightly as he watches Y/N interact with Alyssa. Just yesterday, Alyssa had thrown herself at him and now she was cozying up to Y/N. His gut twists, but he forces a nonchalant shrug.

“I don’t know.” He replies. “But I feel like that hug just made things a whole lot more complicated.”

“Oh, yeah. Definitely.” JJ snorts.

The villa buzzes with energy as everyone settles into their glammed up looks for the night. Laughter and music fills the air, but Rafe isn’t paying attention to any of it. His gaze has been following Y/N for a while now, his thoughts circling back to what he saw earlier. Her and Alyssa, laughing and hugging. Like they hadn’t just been caught in a messy triangle hours before.

He needs to know what is going on.

So when he finally finds an opening, he reaches for her hand, his fingers brushing against hers as he leads her away. The warmth of the firepit flickers against their skin as they settle onto the bench, away from the noise of the villa.

“Hey.” Rafe starts, his voice lower now that it was just the two of them. “You good?” Y/N nods, crossing her legs, the slit of her dress shifting just enough to reveal more of her thigh. Rafe's gaze flickers downward before he catches himself, clearing his throat as he looks away.

“Are you?” She asks in return, tilting her head slightly. Rafe hesitates before exhaling.

“Yeah. I mean…yeah. Just-” He runs a hand through his hair. “What happened with Alyssa?”

“What do you mean?” Y/N raises a brow, questionably.

“I saw you two earlier.” His tone is casual, but there is something underneath it. Something tense. “The whole hug thing.”

“I wasn’t expecting that.” He adds, shaking his head slightly. Y/N lets out a soft chuckle, twisting her ring absently.

“We talked.” She reveals.

“About?” Rafe presses, leaning forward slightly. “Me?” She rolls her eyes, but the small smile tugging at her lips doesn’t go unnoticed.

“A little. Mostly about the whole situation. I told her how it's still early, how we’re both keeping our options open.” She starts.

“Right.” Rafe clenches his jaw, but Y/N doesn't realize it.

“And how I want to be her friend.” She adds, making his head snap toward her.

“Be her friend?” He repeats, incredulous. “After what she pulled?”

“It wasn’t that bad.” Y/N shrugs.

“You're joking.” Rafe exclaims, letting out a dry laugh, before shaking his head.

“She liked how you acted toward her, Rafe.” Y/N’s voice was patient, but firm. “She felt attracted to you. Can you really blame her? If we were in her shoes, we’d probably do the same thing.” Rafe scoffs, shifting in his seat.

“I wouldn’t have gone after someone else’s person two days in.” He says nonchalantly.

“Maybe not, but she didn’t do anything wrong. She saw an opportunity and took it.” Y/N meets his stare evenly, while Rafe exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his face.

“Why are you defending her?” He asks, clearly confused.

“I’m not.” Y/N replied simply. “I’m just not blaming her, either.”

“Nah. You’re way too forgiving.” He comments and she smirks.

“And you’re way too not.”

Silence settles between them for a beat, the firelight flickering in their eyes.

“You don’t get why I’m upset?” Rafe finally asks, his voice quieter now. Y/N tilts her head, studying him.

“No, I don’t.” She admitted. “You told me you weren’t interested in her, right? You told her that too. So, what does it matter if I want to be friends with her?” Rafe opens his mouth, then closes it, his frustration evident.

“It’s not about that.” He mutters, shifting in his seat. “I just…I don’t trust her.” His voice is low now, serious. Y/N meets his gaze, her expression steady.

“But you trust me, right?” She asks, her tone quiet but direct. Rafe hesitates, searching her face for a moment before responding.

“Yeah…I trust you. But I don’t know about her. She’s smart, Y/N. If she wants something, she’ll do whatever it takes to get it.”

“You think I’m that easy to manipulate?” She asks, smiling softly to ease the tension and Rafe quickly shakes his head.

“No. But you’re too nice.” He admits. Y/N exhales, leaning back slightly, her voice calming but firm.

“Look, I get that you want to protect me and I appreciate it. But Alyssa’s not the enemy here.” She pauses, making sure he’s listening. “She didn’t mean for any of this to happen. She just followed what felt right to her. I’m not gonna blame her for that or hold a grudge against her.” Rafe frowns, clearly still not convinced.

“As for her manipulating me, I would never let anyone do that. I may seem too nice or maybe even a little naive, but I know the difference between someone trying to use me and someone just figuring things out. Alyssa's not trying to hurt anyone she's just...lost.” Rafe watches her for a moment, absorbing her words. His gaze shifts toward the firepit, a flicker of understanding crossing his face as the tension starts to fade.

For a moment, neither of them speak. The fire crackles, the distant sound of the villa buzzing behind them. But right here, in their own little bubble, the tension has shifted into something lighter.

“Are we good?” She finally asks. Rafe studies her, then nods.

“Yeah. We’re good.” He admits, making Y/N smile softly and shift closer to him, the space between them shrinking with each move.

“Good.” She says, her voice gentle but firm. “Because I don't want to spend the time we have, arguing over stupid villa drama.” Rafe smirks, his eyes gleaming with amusement. He pulls her even closer, his hand snaking around her waist, causing her to let out a surprised squeal. He chuckles, clearly enjoying her reaction, as he tightens his hold, looking at her with an intense focus. His eyes trace her features. Her lips, the way her hair falls around her face, the light in her eyes.

“I don’t like not sharing a bed with you.” He admits, his voice low, almost vulnerable, though his smirk never fully fades. Y/N laughs lightly, rolling her eyes.

“We shared a bed for two nights, Rafe.” She teases, nudging him with her shoulder. Rafe nods, his expression playful but sincere.

“Two nights where I slept like a baby.” He says, his other hand lifting to gently rest on her cheek, his thumb brushing along the soft skin. Y/N's cheeks flush slightly, her heart beating a little faster at the intimacy of the moment. She instinctively turns her head away, her smile shy.

“Rafe…” She murmurs, almost as if trying to hide the warmth in her face. He’s quick to turn her head back toward him, his fingers grazing her jaw gently. He leans in close, his lips nearly brushing hers. His voice drops to a whisper.

“Can I?” He asks, his eyes darting to her glossy lips, a question hanging between them. Y/N can feel the tension in the air. She closes her eyes briefly, trying to steady her breath before speaking softly.

“Don’t even ask.”

Without another word, she closes the space between them, pressing her lips against his with a force that surprises both of them. It’s messy, wild and different from their usual gentle kisses. Rafe groans against her lips, his hands tightening around her.

“Fuck, I like that.” He says, his voice thick with desire, before pulling her back in, his lips crashing against hers once again.

The kiss lingers, unrestrained and full of unspoken feelings, until they finally pull apart, both of them breathless. Y/N giggles, wiping his lips gently.

“I probably should stop wearing lip gloss around you.” She admits, shaking her head with a playful smile. Rafe grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Yeah, I’ll mess it up every time.” He replies, his lips curling into a smirk. “And I am not sorry for that.” Y/N smacks him playfully, making them both chuckle.

Two days later, another beautiful day begins. The sun rises over the villa, casting a golden hue on the sparkling water below. Upstairs, the girls are already busy, each doing their own thing. Maddy is curling her hair, Kiara is applying her makeup and Sarah is pacing back and forth, trying to decide what to wear for the day. Meanwhile, the boys are scattered around the villa. Some working out, others chatting casually over breakfast and JJ is still struggling to get out of bed, his messy hair poking out from under the covers.

As the girls chat and laugh while getting ready, talking about their plans for the day, a sudden ping cuts through the noise. Everyone pauses, glancing at each other in surprise as Maddy grabs her phone.

“Oh my God!” Maddy mutters, her voice filled with disbelief.

“What? What is it?” Sarah asks, walking over, her curiosity piqued.

“Tell us!” Kiara insists, practically jumping up and down, eager to know. Cleo tries to grab the phone out of Maddy’s hand, but Y/N playfully holds Cleo back, shaking her head.

“Let her read it!” Y/N laughs.Maddy takes a deep breath and reads aloud, her voice trembling with excitement.

“Girls, today a hot new bombshell is entering the villa.” She starts, causing the others to widen their eyes, their attention fully on her. “Kelce was given the choice to go on dates with two very lucky girls.” She continues, and the room grows tense as they hang on her every word. Another ping sounds from Maddy’s phone and her eyes widen once more.

“Maddy and Cleo, get ready for your dates. Bring your A-game and make Kelce feel welcome. #newbabeintown #brunchdatebuddies.”

The moment the message is read, the room erupts in excitement. Cleo and Maddy jump up and down, squealing with joy, as the other girls clap and cheer for them.

“Oh my god, this is huge!” Kiara exclaims, grinning widely.

“Fuck, I can’t wear this!” Cleo suddenly exclaims, looking down at her plain black one-piece swimsuit. The girls all nod, immediately gathering around her.

“We’ve got you.” Y/N assures her, already heading toward the closet to pick out a few outfits.

“You know, I had an ex named Kelce.” Y/N says casually as she pulls out a bikini for Cleo. The girls pause, intrigued.

“When was this?” Sarah asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Like…a year ago? Maybe a little more.” Y/N says, tossing the first bikini aside. She pulls out another, but Cleo shakes her head at the choice.

“Really?” Y/N scoffs, her tone playful, as she digs through the swimsuits again.

“What happened? Why did you two break up?” Alyssa asks, brushing out Maddy’s hair as the conversation flows naturally. Y/N sighs, pulling out a red bikini that Cleo can’t help but admire.

“It wasn’t a bad breakup or anything. We just wanted different things. I loved him, though. I still have a lot of love for him.”

“Ooooh, that sounds like unfinished business.” Kiara says, sipping the smoothie Pope brought her earlier, as she watches the interaction. Y/N shrugs, glancing up at the bikini she’s holding.

“Maybe. I don’t know. If the timing was right…maybe we could try again.” She hands Cleo the red bikini with a soft smile and Cleo holds it up with a grin.

“Finally!” Cleo whispers, grinning wide as she heads off to change.

“My ex used to hook up with Kendall Jenner.” Sarah suddenly reveals, causing the room to go silent for a beat. The girls stare at her in shock.

“What?!” Maddy gasps.

“Tell us everything!” Kiara says, her eyes wide with curiosity. Sarah just shrugs, a small smile playing at her lips.

“It’s not a big deal, really.” She says, though her tone suggests otherwise. The room erupts in questions as the girls demand more details, laughing and gossiping.

As they finish up their preparations, Y/N realizes she left her water bottle downstairs. She heads down to grab it from her bedside table and as she enters the room, she sees JJ sitting up in bed, rubbing his eyes, clearly contemplating whether he’s ready to start his day.

“Oh! Hi, J!” Y/N says brightly, walking over to her bedside table and grabbing the bottle. As she leans over, her hoodie rides up slightly, revealing a sliver of her waist. JJ clears his throat and looks up, his eyes lingering on the small reveal.

“H-hi.” He stammers and then glances at her outfit. “Wait, why aren’t you dressed yet?” Y/N chuckles, looking down at herself.

“We were too busy getting Maddy and Cleo ready for their dates and-” She cuts herself off, her eyes widening in realization. “Oh crap, I probably shouldn’t have said that.”

“Wait, Cleo and Maddy have dates?” JJ asks, widening his eyes. Y/N rushes to him, a pleading look in her eyes.

“Please don’t tell the guys. I wasn’t supposed to say anything.” She tugs at his sleeve, giving him her best puppy-dog eyes. JJ grins mischievously, moving towards the door.

“Nope. I’m telling everyone.” He murmurs.

“No! JJ!” Y/N yells, racing after him. Her short legs try to catch up, but JJ is too quick. Just as he’s about to make it out the door, Y/N launches herself at him, throwing her arms around his shoulders and trying to cover his mouth with her hand. The boys, hearing the commotion, rush over to see what’s going on.

JJ stumbles slightly as Y/N clings to him, nearly losing his balance. Before he can topple over, Rafe appears out of nowhere and grabs Y/N, pulling her off of JJ and setting her down gently.

“What’s going on here?” Rafe asks, his voice calm but curious, his skin glistening with the glow of a recent workout. JJ rubs his arm where Y/N’s nails left red marks.

“Did you scratch me?” He asks, looking at his bicep with a furrowed brow.

“Sorry.” Y/N mutters, slightly embarrassed.

“Okay, what happened?” John B asks as he adjusts his hat.

“Maddy and Cleo have dates!” JJ says triumphantly, turning to Y/N with a mockingly smug look. Y/N narrows her eyes at him.

“I’m going to kill you.” She murmurs, making JJ laugh loudly.

“I’d love to see you try.” He challenges as Y/N struggles to break free of Rafe’s arms to get to him. Rafe sighs, tightening his grip to keep her calm.

“What dates? What are you talking about?” Rafe asks, rubbing Y/N’s arm comfortingly as she tries to escape his hold. Y/N sighs, realizing she can’t avoid it.

“We got a text.” She says quietly, her eyes flicking to the guys. “It said a new guy is entering today, and he chose Maddy and Cleo to go on a brunch date.” The boys exchange glances, nodding, but Rafe’s grip on Y/N loosens as the information settles in.

“I probably shouldn’t say this either.” Y/N continues in a hushed voice. “But the girls and I are gonna spy on them from the balcony. If you guys…wanna join.” She looks around at the group, her gaze lingering on Rafe.

“Now, can I go back upstairs?” She asks, her tone soft.

“Ye-yeah.” Rafe murmurs, a faint smile tugging at his lips. He releases her from his arms and Y/N grins, pecking him quickly on the cheek before heading back upstairs.

Some time has passed now, Maddy and Cleo are making their way to the backyard, which has been transformed. Two tables are set up in the center, surrounded by an array of flowers and a delicious-looking brunch spread. The girls squeal in excitement as they take their seats, occasionally glancing up at the terrace where the rest of the group is gathered.

“Can’t believe you told them.” Sarah murmurs to Y/N, nodding toward the boys sitting behind them on the couch.

“I’m sorry, Sarah. It just slipped out.” Y/N apologizes again, her gaze drifting through the railing toward the girls.

“Hey, Cleo! Push up the girls!” Kiara calls out and Cleo responds with a nod, adjusting her swim top as everyone laughs.

A moment later, Maddy's eyes widen and she looks up toward the terrace, silently mouthing something.

“He’s here!” She whispers. Cleo turns to shush her and the girls exchange thumbs-up for good luck. They watch as JJ and John B walk toward them. Y/N moves aside to make room for them, settling next to Rafe and Topper on the couch. Rafe instinctively wraps an arm around her waist as he talks with Topper.

“Woah!” Kiara exclaims as JJ tries to peer over her shoulder.

“Not another black guy!” Pope groans.

“John B, my toes!” Alyssa shrieks and John B apologizes as he ducks down to avoid stepping on her.

“Y/N! You need to see him!” Sarah whispers urgently, gesturing for her to come over. Y/N rolls her eyes but stands up and walks toward the railing, crouching down to avoid being seen by Kelce below.

“Shit!” She exclaims, causing Kiara to quickly shush her.

“Girl!” Kiara scolds quietly. Y/N pulls back from the railing, her face pale as though she’s seen a ghost.

“Whoa, you okay?” Rafe asks, noticing her blank stare. He rises from the couch and moves toward her, the others gathering around to check on her. Sarah rubs her back, concerned.

“Did you get dizzy again? I’ve told you, you can’t skip breakfast.” She begins.

“Is that Kelce?” Y/N asks and the group nods. Rafe and Topper head off toward him. Rafe shrugs.

“He’s not…bad-looking.” He admits. “But he’s not all that either.”

“That’s Kelce.” Y/N repeats, her voice shaking. Sarah looks at her, nodding.

“Yeah, we know.”

“No, no, no, Sarah.” Y/N starts, her voice trembling. “That’s Kelce…my ex.” Sarah's eyes widen in shock.

“What the fuck?” Rafe's voice cuts through the tension as he looks up at Y/N, equally stunned.

to be continued...

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A/N: sorry for the long wait, but i really struggled with this one. i wrote half of it when i had time after work when i was very tired and finished it really late last night, it's proofread but i cannot promise it's good so very sorry for that!!

[everythingne]

little miss wingwoman (3) - ln4

You meet the Norris family, Penelope drops by for a surprise visit, and luckily Christmas Eve goes off without a hitch. Thanks to your amazing skills in everything that comes with being a nanny.

warnings/notes: I, once again, am posting christmas after christmas and i don't care <3 happy hanukkah by the way!! also shout out to my brother who inspired the whole 'athena falling asleep' bit here bc he did this w my baby cousin on christmas eve

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Lando is welcoming in his siblings while you're in the process of finishing up a quick little Christmas Eve dinner. They'd requested nothing crazy, so you'd scoured the internet to find a simple chicken dish, and had Lando go out to buy some games to play with the family. His siblings had all been on the same flight, but with a little rain systems coming through Monaco, his parents flight had been delayed a few hours.

Meaning, you got to be eased into meeting your roommate of barely a weeks family, and spending the holidays with them.

As you finally set down some tin foil over the last few sides, sliding them in the oven on a preheat setting to keep everything warm until Lando's parents arrived, Oliver and Flo poke around the corner to look at you.

You don't notice them studying the way you flow through Lando's kitchen, you're too busy counting over the names Lando had told you--Oliver, Flo, and Cisca, his siblings, you think in that order with Lando ahead of Flo. Then, Savannah, Lando's sister-in-law, and his two nieces Mila and Athena. His parents, Cisca and Adam, though you can't imagine calling them anything other than Mr and Mrs. Norris.

"Oh, guys," Lando's tone is full of smiles, proudly waving an arm to you as you turn around and discard your oven mitts onto the counter, "This is my roommate, Yn."

"Ah!" Oliver smiles, Athena in his hands sraring up at you with wonder in her eyes, "This is the roommate I've heard so much about."

"Oh, god, I hope all good things?" You step around Lando to properly greet each sibling, Savannah, and the girls.

"Lando talks about you a lot." Cisca teases softly, looking over at her brother, who flushed and quickly asked what everyone wanted to drink--safely deterring the conversation. Above everyones scurrying heads into the kitchen, you meet Lando's eyes, and find you can't look away as he crinkles up in a smile before turning to find cups for everyone.

A bit later, Lando runs out to go collect his parents from Nice's airport, leaving you with the siblings. Mila and Athena have taken to exploring the living room under their parents watchful eye as you scour for a good Christmas movie for them--settling on the Grinch after a while, just to have it on in the background. You can tell Athena's getting ready for a nap, but with so much excitement and noise, she seems to be struggling to settle down. Savannah seems a bit flustered, so you take a seat with her on the couch while Flo and Cisca sneak some cookies in the kitchen and gossip.

"So," Oliver starts, "We spent so long catching up with Lando, I never had a chance to ask anything about you."

"Oh, Sorry!" Savannah calls, turning to place a hand on your knee, "Don't want you to feel left out!"

"Don't apologize, it's alright! He's your brother and you said, Savannah, the last time you saw him was Goodwood, which was--what, July?" You say, watching as Cisca and Flo come to the living room, sitting down with their nieces and their toys by the big windows. Savannah offering the girls a thankful smile for taking them off her hands for the time being.

"Yeah, it's been a while." Flo hums, "And Cis and I didn't even see him at Goodwood, we saw him at Silverstone."

"He's so busy with racing, I see why but I still worry for him. He's still just the boy he was when we were young and running amuck through the woods in the middle of nowhere. He had no friends back then, and I worry he isolates himself here too, just blames it on being busy." Oliver leans back, running a hand across his head. You can see the worry for a baby brother he's watched grow clear in his eyes, and Savannah soothes a hand across his shoulders in comfort.

You hum softly, "He's got Max. And Oscar, Charles... Carlos, Alex and George, though I guess George is in London now... a lot of the drivers live close--we actually bought them presents for Christmas. He's got all of Quadrant too."

"And you," Flo prompts, looking up from where Athena tries to grab onto her hair.

"Yeah," you breathe out, turning to Oliver, "And me."

"How'd you meet?" Savannah asks and you smile.

"Max Verstappen, his 'bonus daughter' Penelope is the girl I nanny. I've worked for Kelly since Penelope was maybe three or four months, actually. Just an extra set of hands for her, but now I'm sort of like a housekeep? I watch the apartment when they're gone, cook, clean, help them keep track of everything--the two of them are also so busy." You laugh softly, watching as Athena uses the table to toddle her way over to her parents, Savannah picking up the sleepy toddler and laying her on her chest.

"But, with their baby on the way, the room I was living in is turning into a nursery. They didn't want to move, especially with a whole baby coming, so they helped me find a new place to live. Luckily, I knew Lando... kinda... we never really spoke much before but Penelope adores him so I've been out with Penelope at races or even in Monaco, and run into him."

Savannah watches as Athena scoots out of her hold and climbs across the couch, the curious toddler now taking up space in your lap as you wrap up your explanation, and a place a hand on her back, "So, Lando let me move in. I've pretty much transformed his entire apartment in exchange for the rent he's covering for me."

"I was going to say, it looks a lot better than the last time I was here." Oliver chuckles, Savannah countering with, "Yes, it does. A woman's touch was needed for sure."

"Lando kept asking us all about how to live with a girl," Cisca looks over her shoulder, watching as Flo and Mila move to join you on the couch. Little Athena snuggling into the warm of your hold as you move back.

"I told him it was just like living with sisters," Oliver rolls his eyes, "but he was insistent there was a way to do it wrong."

You laugh softly, imaging the way that he had probably begged for some sort of advice over the phone with his siblings, gently rocking a fussy Athena--who has been refusing her nap since she'd gotten into the apartment almost two hours ago now.

You speak softly, to keep the girl from waking up as she nearly is sleeping, "There really isn't, and I've been moving around so much my whole life I don't really have a set way to live. I kinda just adapt."

Before you can say anything else, the front door opens, and Lando announces he's back. Savannah lifts Athena, who whines, clinging to your shirt, and you shake her off, "I can take her, if it's okay."

"Sure, if it's fine. I wouldn't wanna wake her so close to her falling asleep. Athena loves to cuddle, she's a clinger," Savannah laughs softly, brushing her daughters wild curly hair back. You nod, holding her the way Savannah instructs--missing when Penelope used to be this tiny in your arms.

Lando's parents--Adam and Cisca, are happily talking with their children when you round the corner into the kitchen. Everyone turns with your presence, smiling at the sight of Athena curled in your arms, Mrs. Norris audibly aweing at the scene as you smile.

"Hi, it's really lovely to meet you both," You say softly, stepping over so they can give you hugs and greet their granddaughter who refuses to come out of the comfort she'd found nestled in your chest.

"I'll get the food out," Lando says, "I imagine you're all starving,"

"God, please." Flo whines, Oliver going to help his brother. You linger with the Norris parents in the hall, smiling softly as Athena lets out little snores against the warm fabric of your sweater. Savannah long gone after being dragged off by Mila.

Mrs. Norris moves into the kitchen, laughing as she scolds her sons for stealing bits of food while they bring everything out. The stack of bags and gifts flow down the hall now, the jackets and shoes overflowing the racks, and you can't help but smile at the liveliness of the once empty apartment.

"You're a real charmer," Adam says after a second and your attention is drawn to Mr. Norris. He grins, "Haven't seen Lando this organized in years."

You laugh softly, rubbing a soothing hand up and down Athena's back, "It's the least I could do for him, considering he won't let me pay rent. He's been really kind to let me live here."

"That's Lando for ya," Adam looks at his son in the kitchen, helping Mila get seated at the table, "He'd give you the skin off his back if he could."

As if sensing you both looking at him, Lando's head perks up, scowling as he comes over. He takes his father's jacket out of his hands and urges him to go get a plate of the food you'd 'slaved over' making all day in the kitchen. You can't help but giggle as he shoos away his father's knowing smile and wave as he goes to join his wife and kids.

"Thanks for saving this whole holiday," Lando looks over at you, catching the way you're already looking at him. A soft smile gracing your lips as you sway the toddler in your arms.

"Your family is lovely," you reply softly, "I'm glad I could do something for them."

Lando's quiet for a moment, the both of you just watching eachother. Turning back when Flo and Cisca start cracking up over some teasing thing Mrs. Norris is saying as Oliver scowls and rebukes whatever she's saying.

"Do you want a plate?" Lando says, "I can get mine last."

"No no, wouldn't want to wake Athena. I can always heat it up after she wakes." You wave a hand, and Lando nods, stepping closer to wipe a crumb off your cheek and brush a piece of hair back into place before Flo calls him over. You wave him on and he goes, making a spectacle about making his way back to the group.

Slowly, you make your way back into the living room, slowly sinking down on the couch and getting comfortable with Athena still snoring in your arms. And as the Norris' carry on in the kitchen, you can help but lay your head back on the cushions, cuddling in to the comfiest position you can find.

You fall asleep around the point Martha May announces her love for the Grinch, and right before Flo brings out Uno for the group at the table to play.

Lando comes over about twenty minutes later, pausing when he sees you knocked out. The rest of the family peeking around the corner as Lando grabs a blanket from the chair in the corner and walks over to where you are--Athena still snuggling into your hold. He gently drapes the blanket over the two of you, grabbing a pillow to lay under your head so your neck isn't killing you in the morning, and just takes a pause to sit next to you.

His eyes travel down your hair, to your closed eyes, parted lips, the soft breaths that leave you. The way Athena has tucked herself against your chest like she just knows you're safety, that you know how to take care of her. He lifts the blanket a little higher, resists the urge to press a chaste kiss to your forehead, and stands.

No one moves fast enough for him to not catch them staring.

"Looked like you were gonna kiss her for a second," His father chimes. Lando feels heat rise to his cheeks as his siblings laugh and he just waves away their comments as he comes back to play the game with them.

When Athena stumbles in to cuddle her mom about thirty minutes later, he peeks out to see you still asleep on the couch and tilts his head. Oliver leaning on the wall leaning into the living room as Lando steps forward, tucks his arms underneath you and carefully lifts you. It's not graceful by any means, but when your eyes flutter and you settle in as he holds his breath, Oliver bites his lip to keep himself from laughing at Lando.

"I'll get the door." Oliver says, nodding his head to where the spare bedroom is. His whole family pretends not to see him nearly whack your head into the wall when he brings you into your room and lays you on the bed. Mrs. Norris does come to ensure her son has you tucked in properly, with the blinds lowered to block out the setting sun as you curl up in your bed.

"Poor thing, she's absolutely knackered." She hums, waving Oliver out of the room as Lando sheepishly rubs his neck, walking over to her.

"She cooked all day, and we've spent the week decorating everything," his voice is soft as he looks over at your sleeping form in the bed, before his mother pulls him out of the room to shut the door.

"Well, she did a wonderful job." She winks knowingly at him, earning a shy laugh from Lando as she brings him back over to the table to keep playing games.

You do manage to get up and freshen up around nine, after his family has left to sleep off their jetlag. Lando's sitting on the couch with--surprisingly to you, Penelope.

"Max dropped her off, he and Kelly have dinner with their parents and P was supposedly exhausted." Lando pokes the girls cheek, but you can see she's clearly wide awake, sheepishly smiling up at you as you chuckle to yourself.

"I'm sure she was," You chime, sitting down at the counter as Penelope climbs up to sit next to you, leaning on you and looking up at you through her long lashes.

"I just didn't wanna go." Penelope admits softly, "All everyone's been talking about is the baby. I don't care about the stupid baby, I wish it was just me again, and I didn't have to fight this little thing in my Mommy's belly for some attention."

You hum, rubbing a hand up and down Penelope's back. She'd been complaining to you about the baby since you'd gotten back to Monaco, and you'd brought it up to Max and Kelly already. From the time spent in their apartment with them, you knew it wasn't their fault Penelope was feeling this way--after her first complaint. They'd both apologized to her, and explained it to her, and after that Penelope had been fine for a while.

But having every single person in your extended family fawning over the unborn baby in your mothers stomach--buying him tons of gifts and clothes, things Penelope was used to be doted onto her, the shift had to feel weird.

"Max and Kelly still love you," it's Lando who chimes from the couch, groaning as he stands up and stretched out his shoulders, "It's been hard for them with the baby coming, and you know how much the baby needs."

Penelope nods and you pout. Usually, Christmas Eve was reserved for the Verstappen-Piquets to spend the entire night together. But it seemed every one of their traditions had been tossed aside.

"How about this," you say softly, "I have some stuff left over to bake. Why don't you, Lando, and I make some cookies for Santa, hm? We can leave them out at your apartment when I drop you off."

Penelope does light up at that and agrees, so as Lando helps her get supplies, you finish shoveling your dinner into your mouth before standing to help them with baking.

By the end of it, after Penelope's roped you and Lando into a flour fight you know is going to be a disaster to clean up, you and Lando end up carrying up a sleeping Penelope and a plate of cookies. Max laughs softly at the sight of the three of you covered in flour, and Kelly thanks you both for staying up later to watch her.

When you return to Lando's apartment, the two of you elect to finish watching whatever movie is playing on the tv. And the quiet moment, broken by occasionally showing each other something on your phones or asking questions about this absolutely absurd 80s christmas movie, just fills the home with a sense of warmth you aren't expecting to feel.

It almost makes you not want to go to bed, but alas, the Norris' are coming back over in the morning, so you two duck off to bed eventually--hesitating to part due to the invisible magnet that holds you close.

SEE NOTES ABOUT TAG LISTS BELOW:

general tag list (open, tagged in all my fics, will not update for this series. If you'd like to be added to my general list FOR this series, let me know and I'll tag you in the comments!

@d3kstar @justalittlejess @tvdtw4ever @llando4norris @daemyratwst @piastri-fvx @sltwins

series specific tag (closed BUT SEE BELOW!!)

@nikfigueiredo @ilovechickenwings @supertrashbread @sltwins @mwuaferrari @si1ver06 @linnygirl09 @kikiki81 @kittylolly4 @lazybot @tylerstacobell @formula1fordisaster @sheblogs @suns3treading @kqliie @jxnellat @anxiousbananna @hard4ndsoft @majasophieanna @diorbrxtz @freyathehuntress @obxstiles @cstads-blog @wierdflowerpower @delululeclerc @honethatty12 @henna006 @chlmtfilms @littlegrapejuice @piastrams @ravisinghs-wife @sturmatt @sagestack @bravo-delta-eccho @eiffel-hood @widow-cevans @ash88-yep @emryb @changetyre @raynetargaryan2 @callsignsiren @mayusaatma @sid-is-gr8  @awritingtree @urstepdaughter @4-ln4

TO BE TAGGED IN COMMENTS OF EACH NEW CHAPTER:

@celestrablack @hadids-world @keij0h @annimausi

(thank you to all the new people (and my return readers ofc), and everyone who has left such kind words!! happy holidays to you all <3)

[lotus-acid-trip]

hi! I hope you don’t mind me asking but may I request a Telemachus x fem reader where when ody returns and is being made fun of by the suitors while still in this begger disguise yn starts fighting off the suitors and yelling at them for being rude and maybe later joins ody while he is hunting them down and Telemachus has a love sick look while watching yn just like ody did for Penelope back when they were younger before he married her and after seeing how cool and awesome of a warrior yn is later ody turns to his son and says “I aprove of this one 😏” and poor Telemachus is just like 😳 all flustered and adorable what can I say Telemachus is a sweetie 🥰

feel free to ignore if you want to hope you have a good rest of your day thank you ☺️

“I approve of this one.”

Telemachus x Reader

[Epic The Musical]

oneshot

fluff

This is my first proper romantic reader insert fic, so I hope you enjoy!

Odysseus sat at the entrance of the courtyard under the shade of a large olive tree as he silently observed the numerous suitors scattered across the courtyard in idle chatter. Is this really what had become of his home while he was gone? It was baffling just how ungrateful and disrespectful all these guests were. He worried for the state of his palace after being infested with all these unwelcome guests for so many years. It must have been so difficult on Penelope and Telemachus to deal with all of them, having to feed and house them along with dealing with their pitiful attempts at courting his wife. It was a wonder why the suitors still haven’t been driven out by Telemachus yet.

His hand fiddled with the small wooden bowl in his hands. Odysseus was disguised as an old beggar, but as much as he wanted to reveal himself right then and there he needed to be patient and play it smart. He didn’t have anything other than an old knife hidden in his clothes to defend himself with and he was probably lacking a lot of proper nutrients and sustenance after being out at sea for so long with food of limited quality and quantity. If he were to fight all these suitors right now, he was sure to fail. Not only do they have an advantage in numbers, it was obvious they were well fed, and all the used training equipment seen around the palace was all he needed to know the suitors could fight. If Odysseus wanted to win, he needed to stick to the plan, which meant playing his part as an old beggar.

A suitor passed by him devouring a chicken leg and he held out his bowl to him. It would be a good opportunity to not only learn more about the state of his palace and family, but to also know just what his family has been up to in the past years. “Would you care to spare a bit of food for this old man?” The suitor tilted his head to look down at Odysseus for a moment before raising a brow. “And what exactly is this homeless old man doing in a palace like this? Surely your life hasn’t fallen so far into poverty that you’d go scrounging for scraps in the homes of royalty.” He leaned back against the tree, hands crossing over his legs. “Well, that wasn’t exactly my plan. I was just walking by but with the heat of the sun and with a body as frail and weak as mine, I just had to take a break under the shade of this mighty tree. I was always curious of what happened in the lives of royalty anyway.” He said as he looked up at the leaves and branches. He remembers planting it so many years ago to see how to take care of an olive tree as preparation for making his and Penelope’s marital bed. It's grown so much since then, and he wonders just how much Telemachus has as well. “Well, since you have so much spare time to just wander around doing nothing, why don’t you bring us all a meal or two, all the way from inside the palace’s pantry. You want some food? Work for it, old man.”

Odysseus raised a hand waving off the offer. “Ah, but there might be one small problem. I am just an old beggar, remember? I don’t know anything of the layout of the palace. I’m sorry, but I must decline. Can’t you just ask a servant to help you instead?” The suitor seemed to get irritated at his reply. “Ha! Yeah right, those servants can barely do anything right. They never bring the food on time and always seem to be short on stock. Not even their pathetic prince seems to know what he’s doing.” He stared at the suitor judgmentally. “ ‘Pathetic prince’ you say? Bold words for someone who’s staying in his palace.” The suitor looked at him as if he had just said something audacious instead of common sense. “Listen old man, we’re the guests here, not them. Do you not understand basic hospitality?” Odysseus narrowed his eyes at the suitor. He knew his palace, his servants and the workforce in it. They aren’t lazy or incompetent, if they were they wouldn’t be serving his family. Not to mention, if there wasn’t enough livestock there were plenty of skilled hunters and hunting dogs to accompany them. His memories of old hunts with Argos and others were more than enough proof of that.

“Of course I do. Perhaps instead of trying to defend your impudence against the prince, you could put away your prideful hurbis for a moment and just lend me even an inch of the food you already have on you. For someone relying on the shared hospitality of someone else for their own comfort, you sure don’t seem to be able to do the same.” The suitor’s bored annoyance quickly morphed into thinly veiled anger. “Listen you old derelict, need I remind you that this is not your courtyard you are resting in? This is not your abode and I do not tolerate your insults. For someone who seems to preach so strongly for returning hospitality, you don’t seem too keen on basic respect.” Odysseus hid his amusement at the irony with indifference. “Although that may be true, last I checked this isn’t your home either.” That statement alone seemed to be enough to push him over the edge into full blown rage. Odysseus jumped away from the suitor’s flying fist as it hit the trunk of the tree where his head used to be. “You know, for someone so insistent on how they have difficulty doing physical activities you’re awfully quick to move.” The suitor began to walk towards him, his larger form towering over him and casting a shadow that engulfed Odysseus’s entire form. “Listen here old man. If you think you can just run off after that impudence, your mind must be as deteriorated as your age.” Odysseus continued to back up, hand immediately searching for the knife he hid. A chill crept up his spine when his back hit something. Turning around, it was another suitor, the others beginning to close in on him. Fuck, he messed up. The suitor he first talked to grabbed the front of his shirt and lifted him up to his face so Odysseus could face him. “Now, I think it's time that you finally learned a long needed lesson on hospitality and what happens when you don’t respect your host-“

“Hey! What the hell is all this racket?” Odysseus never turned his head away from the suitor, but averted his gaze towards the newcomer. A woman emerged from inside the palace and stared at the scene before her in a moment of silence before her once confused gaze immediately morphed into an infuriated wrath that could rival the suitor’s own rage. “Antinous, what do you think you’re doing! Gods above and below, has no one ever taught you to respect your elders?” She marched on towards the both of them, unshaken by any visible fear at the obvious violent intent of the suitors. She gripped the suitor’s, now known as Antinous, wrist and forcefully yanked it away from him, letting Odysseus fall to the ground. Antinous opened his mouth, ready to yell at her but the woman cut him off as she glared coldly at him. “The queen is watching us.” She said as she stared into the suitors eyes as if daring him to try anything. The mention of Penelope is all he needed to whip his head towards the balcony he knows she always loved to use to watch the courtyard. And there she was, elegant and poised, watching with a composed face as she always does. He could see how she’s changed from when he last saw her, the small streaks of white in her hair that weren’t there before, the wrinkles and tired eyes. But he didn’t care, for it was his Penelope, and Odysseus felt like he was falling in love all over again.

Penelope observed them silently, looking at each person one by one before her eyes eventually met his. For a moment, it felt like time froze and they did nothing but stare at each other. It was like the world itself was holding its breath. It was the smallest difference in her eyes that made his chest swell with warmth. Those indifferent calculated eyes that always seemed to be studying every little detail softened for a moment, her composed face faltering for a split millisecond to look at him with the same eyes that looked at him with so much affection and appreciation when he told her how he’d tackle the challenge she gave him. The tension in the air was so thick, yet only he could feel it… and maybe she did as well. Logically, Odysseus knew that they had only been looking at each other for a mere few seconds, but it felt like he was staring for an eternity at something so close yet so far. And Penelope did nothing else but silently stare back. She shifted her position, pulling away from the scene and returning back inside. Odysseus let out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. It felt like time suddenly began moving once more when it had always been flowing, falling through his fingers like flowing water with no hope of holding on to it.

“Antinous, if you do not explain to me what exactly you were doing I can and will tell Penelope.” The woman said as she walked in front Odysseus, who’s gaze still lingered on the balcony for another moment before returning to look at the suitors and the new woman. Antinous sneered. “And why should I? Your family may be up there in terms of status, but you’re nowhere near close to me.” He sneered. “And? Do you think I care? You already showed just how petty you get because someone bruised your fragile ego. I still haven’t forgiven you for the fight with Telemachus.” The woman took a step forward towards the suitor, but he didn’t move. “And? The boy started it.” Another step forward and another rise in tension. “Who exactly called his mother a tramp? That’s right, you.” Another step forward until she was right in front of him. At this point even more suitors began to crowd around them to see what was happening, and Odysseus dreaded a physical fight would break out.

“Well then, since you seem so keen on berating me for teaching the little wolf a lesson, why don’t I give you an opportunity to even out the scales?” Antinous’s fist met the woman’s face, sending her stumbling back. She regained her balance before gently touching her face, a bruise forming on her right cheek. Whispers and murmurs emanated from the crows as it grew larger, more suitors joining the audience and a few servants discreetly watching from the sidelines. She looked at her own blood smeared against her fingers before turning her attention towards Antinous. “I gladly accept.” She ran forward, fist aimed at Antinous’s face. The suitor held his forearm up to block it, only for her to twist her foot, turning around to kick him from behind without her fist ever making contact with him. Antinous was pushed forward a step from the force of the kick, but quickly recovered, turning around to grab her by the leg she used to kick him. The crowd around them began cheering as he pulled her forward into another punch, which was blocked by her own forearms, now also bruised. He grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her into a headbutt, unable to dodge or move away because of their position.

The sound of a wooden bowl hitting Antinous’s head caused all sound to cease, the silence deafening as everyone’s heads turned to look at the source of the bowl. Antinous glared at Odysseus, who was hiding his grip on his knife in his oversized clothes. Antinous let go of the woman who fell on the floor, wincing at her bruises. Odysseus’s grip on his knife tightened as he took a step forward towards him. He opened his mouth to say something before he was cut off by a young voice. “Stop! What’s going on he- [NAME]!” A young boy shoved his way through the crowd and into the clearing that formed around the olive tree, rushing towards the side of the young woman. He kneeled beside her as he assessed her wounds. Antinous crossed his arms in annoyance as the young boy began to ceaselessly fuss over her. Odysseus stared at the boy, he could recognize those eyes from anywhere. “[name], are you okay? What happened?”

“Tele, I’m fine. It's just a few bruises, I’m not an old frail man.” She said as she sharply turned to look at Antinous. “Unlike the person a certain someone was harassing.” Odysseus stared at the young man- no, his son. No wonder he looked so familiar. He had his mother’s eyes and the same fair skin as her, but the face and hair of his own. His head was reeling, it had been so long since he’d seen his young boy. He was all grown up now, grown through all those special moments in his life Odysseus would never be able to experience. Gods, he missed his first hunt, his first training session, he missed being able to teach his son all the things he promised he’d pass on from his mentorship under Athena. But now Telemachus was right there, but he still couldn’t teach him all the things he wasn’t able to.

Antinous looked at all three of them one by one, from Odysseus to Telemachus in increasing disgust. “I’ve had enough of this, the way both of you act around each other is nauseating.” He said as he left the courtyard and into the building. Telemachus helped [name] up and she turned to look at Odysseus. “I am so sorry for all this. My intent was only to help you get that pig off your back,” She said as she looked at the direction Antinous left in with so much disgust it almost gave Odysseus whiplash from her original apologetic tone. “but it seems my impulsiveness got the better of me. Usually I try not to cause fights but I’m not exactly the best at not doing that.” She said shamefully. “Oh please, it's quite alright. I understand what it’s like. Sometimes, when you’re in the heat of the moment, your emotions cloud your judgement and you’re so focused on doing what you think’s right that… you don’t realize the consequences that might follow.” He said with a wistful smile. “I really have no idea what happened, but I apologize either way. Please, have this for your troubles.” Telemachus said as he handed him money, before cutting through the crowd to probably lead [name] to get healed. Odysseus stared at the coins placed in his hand, it was enough to buy him a whole house.

……………………………………………………

……………………………………………………

The metallic stench of blood filled your nose as you walked across the wet floor, the red liquid staining your sandals. The faint light of the torches could barely illuminate the dark room, the moon’s light nowhere to be seen through the windows. What little the light did show was nothing but puddles of blood and the faint outline of bodies. Right there, at the end of the room were twelve axes that were originally supposed to be used for the challenge queen Penelope made for her suitors. It didn’t take long for you to hear about what went wrong, and it took even shorter for you to make your way here. You grabbed one of the axes, testing its weight as you gave it a few experimental swings. The silence of the challenge room was so quiet you could hear your own wet footsteps echo as you tested the axe. You internally facepalmed as you looked down at your weapon, realizing just how little you thought this through. You had no plan in mind, you just heard that Telemachus was also fighting and just had to join. The idea of fighting alongside him was exhilarating, and meeting his father, king Odysseus and master tactician that won the war? You didn’t really think too hard on your decision to join. As much as you hated to admit it, Telemachus and your father were right. You really needed to think things through more. 

Your body tensed when you heard the sound of heavy footsteps approaching the room, your grip on your axe tightening. Well, if you were good at one thing, it was brazenly charging into battle. You readied your stance, prepared for a fight. Since you weren’t able to kill Antinous, you’ll have to settle for killing the suitor first. The moment the bright light of a torch rounded the corner of the entryway, you charged forward, swinging your axe towards their head. Being on the other side of the room, they had plenty of time to jump out of your way. Now, you were at the entrance and they were trapped inside the room. Their torch illuminated their face and you took a moment to look at them. Eurymachus, the cowardly one. “Hey, [name], let us talk about this! I never once went out of my way to hurt you nor Telemachus, I always payed my due respects to her majesty. It was Antinous that-“

“Lead you and your fellow scum in the plan to execute my betrothed in secret.” You said with a sneer, throwing the axe at his head. It flew past the torch, the push of wind blowing it out as the man in front of you fell to the floor. He met the floor with a loud thump, his remains now nothing but another body in the landscape of corpses in the room. You moved to pull the axe out of his head with more aggression than needed before leaving. His words irritated you to no end, the man was nothing but an idle fool who made the choice of inaction. Never once did he try to stop his fellow suitors from tormenting Telemachus, never once has he tried to lessen all the resources they waste, never once did he leave when Telemachus ordered them. None of them did.

You let out a sigh as you walked through the hallways. Where exactly was Telemachus? And where was Odysseus? They most likely passed through this area already, if the bodies everywhere said anything. The father son duo was probably closer to the courtyards of the palace outside where the suitors must have fled towards. Either that or the pack of meatheads ran towards their weapon supply. You guessed it was the latter and promptly made your way through the familiar halls, passing by familiar faces on the floor that will never be missed. Surprisingly enough you couldn’t find any signs of struggle during battle. Nothing but the light of torches fallen on the floor could light up the scene, the moon and stars never daring to gaze upon the massacre. Bodies upon bodies were piled up in a gruesome display of vengeance with a vile stench that made your nose wrinkle in disgust, and yet each and every one of them only had an arrow to the head or chest to blame for their demise. No bruising nor cuts of a blade, only a lone arrow on each suitor. It was only after a long time of walking did the bodies slowly lessen in numbers, but still remained ever present. A silent reminder of the ruthless monster that lurked in these dark halls.

Your head turned towards the sound of metal blade against metal blade just to your right. Carefully peeking over the edge, your eyes widened at the sight of Telemachus fighting a suitor on his own. The light of a fallen torch reflected the glint of a knife in the darkness. Your grip on your axe tightened and you swung at the knife wielder without hesitation. The suitor’s screams were drowned by his own blood pouring out of his mouth, your axe lodged into his throat. Looking behind you, a surprised suitor was stabbed from behind, his blood coating the rest of the blade that pierced through him. The sword was pulled out and the suitor fell to the floor, revealing Telemachus behind him. “[name]? What are you doing here?” He asked as he looked around as if worried anyone might be eavesdropping. “Did you really think word of your suitor hunt wouldn’t get out? Tele, the entire palace could hear the screams of terror.” You replied as you rested your axe on your shoulder. “Of course I didn’t think we’d be able to hide a mass genocide! What I’m asking is why you came here after learning about a giant fight-“ He paused mid sentence, and you didn’t need to see his face to know he was staring at you with the most unimpressed expression you’ll ever see. You barely tried to hide your amused snickering as he rolled his eyes at you. “You know what? I retract my statement. The fight was all the reason you needed to come here, wasn’t it.” It was less of a question and more of a statement.

“Actually, not really. At least, it wasn’t the only reason.” You said you stared directly into his eyes that reflected the ever dancing light of the torch. The flame flickered, going from bright to dark and back within seconds. You could barely see Telemachus, but you poured every bit of attention you had into listening to Telemachus go from unamused to curious. “Really? Then what was it?” He asked as you smiled. “I’m looking right at it.” Telemachus looked around once more, but this time to find what you were staring directly at rather than look for hidden dangers. “Wha? But the only thing you’re looking at is… Oh.” You didn’t even try to hide your amusement this time, bursting out into a fit of howling laughter at his flushed face. “Really? Do you have to tease me even in the middle of battle?” You shoved your face right in front of his, mere inches away. “Yeah, cause you haven’t told me to stop yet.”

“Euryalus, he locked the rest of our weapons in one of the rooms! These are the only ones we have, none of us could open it up-“ Telemachus looked towards the group of new suitors, who immediately drew their weapons at the sight of the both of you. “Shit.” You cursed under your breath, you were kinda having a moment here. With much annoyance your stance changed from relaxed and playful with your axe on your shoulder, to a defensive battle stance with your weapon at the ready. Even with Telemachus, you could only handle so many suitors. “Hey Tele, remember what I told you about hunting wild hogs?” You asked as he looked at you incredulously. “Aim for the area around the shoulder or the head? [name], what does this have to do with anything-“ You cut him off with a mischievous grin barely lit by the torch. “Exactly. I suggest you aim for the chest since you’re too short for their heads.” You could practically see the gears turning in his head before he opened his mouth in a baffled offense.

You charged forwards to the four suitors, stepping on the torch and putting it out as you ran. You moved to the side of the group and swung your axe at the outermost member. He blocked your axe, and at the same time you heard the clash of metal from the other side of the group. You could barely see anything, but you recognized the silhouette of Telemachus fighting off the other two suitors. Another suitor came up from behind the one in front of you to aim his sword at your side. You pushed the sword blocking your axe downwards to block the other suitor’s sword, before pushing both of them off. Spinning around, you hit the head of the first suitor you attacked with your axe, killing them. The sight of another sword in the corner of your eye made your breath hitch, it was far too close for you to move away and turn around to block. You still tried to pull up your axe to block it, and a spray of blood passed by your view. By the time you were fully turned around to face your attacker, they were clutching their hand in pain. Or more like their lack of one. In front of you stood Telemachus, sword in hand as he charged forward, stabbing the suitor in their chest while they were writhing in pain. “[name], what did I say about minding your surroundings!” Telemachus said concerned as the suitor died and joined the rest of them on the floor. “Hey, it turned out okay in the end. He’s dead and I’m alive, I’ll be fine-“

A large thud behind you made you jump, and you slowly turned around with your axe held up. “You know, my son is right. If neither of us were here, you’d be another body on the floor.” You blinked and stared at the man before you. “Father!” Telemachus gasped from behind you. Oh. OH. “Odysseus?” You asked bewildered. He was a lot shorter than you expected. Now you know why Telemachus was shorter than all the men his age and you while his mother still towered over everyone in the room. He nodded with a gentle smile. “And you’re the [name] my son has so fondly told me about.” He said as he drew back his bow. You looked back at Telemachus and you both made eye contact, before you looked at Odysseus. “Wait, what? He talks about me? Wait, what did he say? Tele, you better not have told your father about the sand incident.” You heard him stifle a small chuckle, and you whipped around to gasp at him with all the exasperation you could manage. “You did not!”

“I did.” He said unapologetically. You stared at him in betrayal, jaw dropped before turning back to Odysseus. “Hey, your majesty, did you know that before I got with your son he trained Argos to run at me so he could pretend like he accidentally let him loose to make an opportunity to talk with mMMFFF!” Telemachus slapped his hand onto your mouth as you struggled against his arm. “I did not do that, she’s lying.” He said indignantly as Odysseus stared at the two of you amused. You shoved at Telemachus’s wrist while you both physically struggled against each other. You saw him eyeing your hand on his wrist and you looked at him sternly. “Don’t you even dare- OW!” The madlad bit your hand and you pulled away from him, your bodies detaching from one another. “You menace.” You said as he shoved his face into yours, mere inches away like you were mere moments ago. For a moment, he just stared at you and you stared back at him. It was like all the emotional intensity that was interrupted before was returning full force, a shameless rush of affection like a raging river. You’ve always been told by Penelope that there were moments between her and Odysseus that felt like time stopped, when they looked into their eyes and saw love for eternity in each other. But right now, you felt nothing close to that. It was like time was rushing past you with no end, quick and intense. Every small detail blurred together into Telemachus, and in his eyes you saw the life you have right now.

“Telemachus, I know little to nothing about you, and even less about [name], but I see the same love I have for your mother in you, and I see the same love Penelope has for me in [name].” You both stared at him, hands that had intertwined subconsciously squeezing tightly. Telemachus looked over to you, and once again you saw not just your life in his eyes, but yours and his. “I approve of this one.” Your lover blinked in sync with you. “Besides, weren’t you the one who said how much you loved it when she stood up for you before you got the courage to fight Antinous?” Telemachus stared at his father and after a beat of silence, screeched with embarrassment. “FATHER, DON’T-“ You looked at Odysseus with a devious grin, and began to explain every single Argos incident while Telemachus hid his face in your neck.

[nariism]

neuvillette is aware that he shouldn’t have let you get so close. but he did, and now he’s lamenting the fact that your hands are grasping at his soft horns — his fucking horns, of all places — and he might like it.

uptight and strait-laced, you’ve never known the chief justice to be someone so easily flustered. yet here he is with heat crawling up his neck, so warm that you can feel it against your palms as they ghost over his skin.

you can’t help but laugh at his current situation.

he was vehemently against you coming anywhere near his hair at first, grumbling about how his horns were on the sensitive side and he would rather not have to go into work feeling uncomfortably aware of their presence on his head.

however, you were hard to deny with that little smile on your face and such soft hands grabbing at his arms, tugging him closer. a sweet voice chanting, "please, honey? pretty please?"

neuvillette has never been good at denying you what you want.

it’s how he ends up sitting at your shared vanity. you comb through his long hair, watching him with amusement in the mirror as he huffs and jolts with every brush of your fingers against his horns.

the fact that he was letting you get anywhere near them was surely a testament to his trust in you. he was completely vulnerable here, at your mercy.

“sorry,” you mumble disingenuously, clearly enjoying seeing your usually serious husband falling apart with a simple action. you quickly tie off the end of his hair with a bow and he sighs in relief, thinking that the torment is over.

it's far from over.

he draws a sharp breath when you lean forward and press two gentle kisses on him; one on either side of his head just beside his horns.

neuvillette glowers at you in the reflection, disapproval written all over his face. "stop that," he scolds.

you do, but only because you're worried he might melt into a puddle before your very eyes if you continue.

it becomes a daily routine after that, with him sitting patiently in front of the mirror while you brush and tie off his hair. and you always end it the same way: two kisses, a soft "have a good day at work," murmured against him, and a mischievous little smile that makes him sigh.

he responds everyday with the same two words. "stop that," with a narrow-eyed glare.

the day you do stop, he's confused and irritated.

not only because you have the audacity to throw a wrench into routine again, which you know he hates, but also because he can't figure out why he misses your lips so much.

"what are you doing? i am going to be late."

"hm?" you peer up lazily from your spot on the bed, still half asleep.

"you have to do my hair."

"i thought you didn't want me to, so i slept in today."

your husband is eerily silent for a moment as he mulls over your words. then, he carefully perches himself on the edge of the bed, back turned to you expectantly and still wordless.

no, he would never admit he likes it just a little bit — the vulnerability, the trust, the feeling of your hands threading through his hair, the intimacy of it. hell no.

but neuvillette doesn't have to say a lot of things for you to understand; not when the way his skin heats up says it all; not when you're the first person to touch his horns in centuries; not when he’s saying stop that with such an affectionate glimmer in his eyes.

you give him four kisses that morning, two on either side.

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

[stardust-thief]

look after you

an: this my first x reader fic LMAOO, i needed to write smth and this spencer was on my brain :// i am in the middle of a rly long donna fic but i cba this was much easier. also i absolutley have not proof read this sorry

synopsis: you get hurt while hunting down an unsub, after some reluctance (and kind words from papa rossi) you let spencer take care of you, 1.7k words

cw: descriptions of violence, panic attack, spencer swears and can drive (the most un-canon thing abt him) umm italians..., the rest is just fluffy, hurt/comfort, x reader but no y/n

masterlist

The unsub had his gun pointed at you, the cold press of the barrel against flesh. He was ranting and raving about needing to be seen and understood, having spent his childhood in emotional neglect. Teachers and parents failed him at every turn, it’s not his fault that this happened but he can fix it if he just drops the gun. Rossi tried to tell him this over and over, but he only got more angry, pushing the gun in harder and harder. 

If you were to open your eyes, you would’ve seen JJ and Luke there too, guns trained on the unsub. Their eyes glancing between you, the unsub, and the gun. But you didn’t. Not until the bang went off and you could breathe again. 

The flashing lights of the ambulance do nothing to dissuade the pressing headache you feel coming on, the movement of people helps even less. You watch as the EMT’s cart the unsub away on a gurney, sheet covering him. 

“You okay, kid?” Rossi asks from beside you, he had been hovering ever since the ambulance arrived. 

“I’m fine, just need a good night's rest. I’ll be good as new.” You hummed half-heartedly. 

David Rossi always knew when someone was lying to him, part of that talent comes from his job as a profiler, but it’s mostly because of some ancient Italian magic. “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that to me. Look, Hotch is on his way with Reid and Emily. They’re gonna be taking some witness statements, but I imagine Boy Wonder will be a little distracted. I want you to let him take care of you, ok? You’ve been through hell tonight kid, let him worry.”

Italians never lie, although you wish they did. Spencer had very obviously caught feelings for you, everyone on the team could see it. Unfortunately, so could you. Spencer Reid was one of the kindest, most genuine people you had ever met, always putting other people's needs before his own. A voice in your head kept telling you that there is nothing you have done to deserve someone like him doting all over you? You had only brought trouble to the people who loved you. Eventually you learned that it was better to just keep everyone at a distance; if you don’t let them in, they can’t get hurt. Which worked well, up until Spencer.

He had such a wormy way of getting into your brain at the worst times; whether it was when you were alone in your kitchen, or at slightly dangerous, very inappropriate times on a case. You couldn’t stop thinking about him and his stupidly cute (and sometimes ill-timed) facts. Some part of you wanted to let him in, in the end the stubborn side always took over. 

Before long, you heard the worried cries of Spencer trying to find you in the chaos. Rossi called his name and gave you a pat on the shoulder, “Remember, you deserve to be looked after too.” and left to find Hotch.

“Oh my god, are you okay? We tried to get here as soon as we could, but they managed to take down the unsub right? What happened, did he hurt you? How did you get so close? Talk to me are-” Oh, how he rambles. 

“Spencer, I’m fine. I just need to… rest, you know. He didn’t hurt me that bad, just a sprained wrist, couple bruises. Could’ve been worse.”

He spluttered, “Could’ve- you know, that doesn’t make this any better, I was so worried about you. He had a fucking gun to your head, I was going insane thinking about what could’ve happened. What did the EMT say about your wrist?”

“Just to rest it, and use an ice pack if it starts to swell or hurt.” You couldn’t look him in the eye, he was so worried about you. It made butterflies dance in your belly, but there was a twinge of guilt there too. He was so busy, he worked so hard and then went home to look after his mom. He had too much on his plate, how could you add more to it? “Spence, I’m really sorry about worrying you. I should be fine to leave now, so I’ll just head home and sleep it off. Have a good night.” You pushed yourself off the ambulance, eyes focused downwards, restless fingers fidgeting with the already frayed bandage.

“No- wait what are you talking about? You’re gonna drive yourself home in this condition? I can’t let you do that, even thinking about it makes me feel sick.” He lowered his head to yours and spoke softer this time, “Please let me take you home. I don’t have to stay, I just want to make sure you’re ok, ok?”

Fuck that voice did things to you. Leaning from side to side, you thought about what Rossi had said earlier. Maybe, it was ok to let someone in? It would be cruel to let him suffer more, not knowing if you were ok or somehow got in a car crash with 5 other vehicles on your way home. Just this once, you think.

Looking up into his soft eyes, you give a small nod. His lips immediately turned up into a smile, his hand comes up to cup your head, fingers stroking your cheek. It felt… nice. His thumb was calloused but he still moisturised enough for it to feel smooth, and he smelled like lemongrass and ginger. His hand fell to the small of your back as he guided you to his car. Ever the gentlemen, he opened your door and softly placed his hand over your head as you got in. Manoeuvring himself into the driver's side, he pulled out his phone and typed something, then quickly stuffed it away into a pocket and turned on the engine.

The sky was dark when you woke up. The unsub had a gun to your head at dusk, and Spencer was walking into your apartment when the moon was out. He took off his shoes and the door, and walked into your living room.

“I’ve never been here before,” he mused. “I like it.”

He looked at ease wandering around your apartment, his shoulders had relaxed and he let out soft musings as he perused your photo collections.

“Oh Spencer, not that one, it’s embarrassing!” You tried (with not a lot of effort) to pull him away from the frame.

“No this is cute, was this when you were at University?” He asked, wrapping an arm around you.

Oh my god. “Yeah, um- those were some of my friends at the time. I try and keep in touch but, you know.”

He hummed, pulling you closer into him. Finally content, he looked down at you. “How’s your wrist?”

“It’s ok,” you shrugged, “just a little tender now.”

“Where’s your kitchen, I can get some ice.”

“Spence-” you wanted to tell him no, to go home and look after himself. But his body was so warm, having him so close to you melted your brain, leaving you unable to think of any good reason as to why he should leave. “It’s the first door on the right.”

His grip tightened for a moment before he swiftly navigated you to the sofa, and turned to leave for the kitchen. The cold of the apartment rushed to get you as soon as he unraveled his arms. You hadn’t been alone all day since the unsubs attack, it somehow felt more claustrophobic. His hand on your throat, squeezing the air from your lungs. The way he grabbed your arm, contorting it so he could throw you to the ground. The gun, pressed into your forehead. The knowledge that the only thing between you being alive, and you being in a ditch, was a madman's finger on the trigger. Reality faded as each memory pressed further and further into your mind. You weren’t in your apartment anymore, you could feel the cold concrete beneath your hands. The thick air in your lungs, Rossi and the unsub shouting.

A hand on your knee, a soft voice bringing you back. There was no unsub, no gun to your head. You were alive. You were alive and Spencer was in your apartment, wiping the tears that had fallen down your face.

“You with me?” His voice was so soft, you couldn’t recall ever hearing Spencer raise his voice in anger. He was so gentle when he touched you. 

The floodgates burst, choked sobs made their way past your lips. Your shoulder shook as you cried, pressing yourself into Spencer’s arms. “Oh honey,” He murmured, pressing his lips into your head, softly rocking you back and forth as you sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. It was too much. You could have died today. Very nearly did. You weren’t ready to die, not yet at least.

As your cries softened into hiccups, you pushed yourself back from Spencer. “I’m sorry, that was so disgusting. It just all- I don’t know.”

 “Hey, you don’t ever have to apologise to me ok? What you went through was really scary, I’d honestly be more shocked if you didn’t cry.” His hand moved to draw soothing shapes along your back as you leaned back into him. “You want to watch something to calm down? I brought you some water and an ice pack for your wrist.”

He would be the death of you. You nod and push yourself back into the sofa, moving your wrist to rest in your lap. Spencer gently places the ice pack across your wrist and grips the tips of your fingers. He leans forward to push your cup of water towards you and grabs the TV remote, then turns and leans back so your side is pressed into his front. Truthfully, Spencer didn’t seem like the type to watch cable TV but he navigated the menu with somewhat ease. 

“Look at what’s on! It’s your favourite isn’t it, you want me to put it on.” He said as he nudged your shoulder.

He remembered your favourite film, of course he would remember it he has an eidetic memory. You hummed a yes as you relaxed your body further into his, finally content. Maybe Rossi was right, having Spencer close really wasn’t so bad after all.

[shyoko]

can i suggest something? can you do an ot7 enhypen story where the girl makes a prank saying that "their dicks are too small" btw i love you don't explode 😭😭

☆Prank saying that "their dicks are too small".☆

This writing is my own; no copies, adaptations, or translations are allowed. I hope you like it. (English is not my first language.) 

✦ 2.3K words✧ adult cont! teasing* Masterlist˚ Taglist✧ Requests “Open”₊‧ ✦𓂃  ✦Taglist: @lezleeferguson-120 @nuki-riki @ijustwannareadstuff20 @vvenusoncasual @miellette @enhacolor @xxkatsusjinsux @somieverse @ourshin

A/n: I hope you like it very much. I love you too. 🩷🩷

✦Adult content✦

Heeseung☆

Heeseung moved his fingers deftly over the keyboard, stringing together attacks in his video game. His hands moved with mesmerizing speed, awakening a burning desire in you. You knew you shouldn't interrupt him-all his friends could hear him through the headphones-but... if he kept quiet, there would be no problem.

You approached, and upon noticing your presence, Heeseung turned his face. His gaze met your innocent smile, all too aware that he was hiding something.

“What is it, honey, do you need something?”

“You!”

Your friends' laughter burst out of their headphones. Heeseung sighed, muting the microphone.

“I finish this game and I'm with you, okay?”

But then he turned it back on and, with dangerous confidence, blurted out:

“She's so desperate.”

The guffaws were not long in coming.

Oh, this was a war.

You knelt under the desk and pulled down his pants in one motion. Heeseung flinched, his eyes darting between the screen and you.

“Honey...” he murmured in warning.

You smiled before speaking loud enough to be heard.

“Your dick looks small.”

Laughter erupted instantly.

Heeseung reddened, but when his dark eyes bore into yours, you knew the truth.

It wasn't embarrassment. It was anger.

And he wasn't about to let it go.

“Can you two concentrate on playing and stop laughing you assholes?”

He laid his eyes on you, and only you. And before he said a word he roughly lifted you up and glued your chest to his desk leaving his hooves right next to you so his friends could hear everything.

“Come on honey, if you apologize maybe I'll think about fucking you silly right now.”

You stirred in his arms trying to find his touch. 

Which he did with no problem sticking to your ass hard, feeling his entire length so close but so far away from you.

“S-sorry” you whispered.

His hand slapped you. 

“Who's the one who fills you so well? Who? Come on say it, sweetheart.” 

he laughed dryly as he felt your body tremble beneath him.

 “You, j-just you.”

 “That's right, just me.”

Certainly your friends had a show that night. 

jay☆

After a heated make-out session, Jay received a call from his company. They informed him that he was to attend a brief meeting to discuss some relevant issues before his return.

“Fuck...” he muttered in annoyance as he hung up.

After stealing a couple more kisses from you, he reluctantly said goodbye and walked out.

Minutes later, your phone vibrated with a message from him:

“This is torture. I feel so tight in my pants.”

“Damn, this is so embarrassing.”

“I hope no one notices.”

You smiled, amused, and decided to play a little.

“It's okay, baby. I'll take care of you when you get here.”

“Besides, you shouldn't worry...your dick isn't big enough to be noticed.”

Okay, maybe the joke was too much, but you were dying to see her reaction.

It wasn't long in coming.

“Excuse me?”

“Are you sure about what you're saying?”

“Because I'm not the one screaming my head off about how good my dick feels.”

“I'm not the one who gets desperate to have it inside her, to the point of sending audios and pictures begging for attention.”

“Nor am I the one who waits for me many nights naked and open, begging for me.”

“So tell me, are you really sure of what you're saying?”

Your face burned as you wrote hurriedly:

“Oh, for God's sake, shut up right now!”

“Shut me up.”

“And while you're at it, rest that throat.”

“Because when I come, the last thing you'll do is be quiet... So look forward to my return.”

Your body shuddered at the implied promise.

The night would be a long one.

Jake☆

Jake's long, skillful fingers moved deftly over you, provoking a myriad of sensations that took your breath away.

Your soft gasps filled the room, mingling with the sound of his labored breathing. “God, baby...” he murmured with a smug smile, enjoying the way you reacted to his touch ”You're so wet for me.”

His words further ignited the heat coursing through your body.

“Do you think you're ready for me yet?” he asked softly, in complete contrast to the intensity of his movements.

Your mind was blank, caught up in the pleasure... until suddenly, he pulled away, leaving you with an empty feeling and a silent protest on your lips.

“Shh... it's okay, baby. You'll feel even better now” he whispered, his tone laden with promise.

He positioned himself against you, the tip of his dick at your hole ready to go deep, but before he could continue, an idea crossed your mind.

“‘Baby...” you whispered, with feigned innocence. “I prefer your fingers, they're much longer.”

The silence that followed was almost palpable. Jake blinked, processing your words.

You had just implied something that was far from true.

His jaw tensed and, in a single motion, he caught your wrists in one of his hands, lifting them above your head.

“Stop teasing” he spat with a scowl, his intense gaze riveted on yours.

“I know you love my hands, but you know damn well you're dying for it to be my dick inside you right now.” 

“I said I prefer your fingers-”

You didn't finish the sentence.

A loud gasp escaped your lips as Jake entered you, he was deep inside you, his hips delivering thrust after thrust.

“How about now, baby?” he murmured against your ear, his voice velvety in perfect contrast to the way he enveloped you.

His gaze descended to your belly.

“Look where I am...” he whispered, with a satisfied smile. “Are you sure you prefer my fingers?” he pointed to your belly where the outline of his dick was noticeable.

Your only response was a shaky moan.

Jake laughed softly, leaning over you as his fingers slowly traced your skin.

“You look so fucking beautiful like this...”

Sunghoon☆

Your hands slid gently down Sunghoon's body as you descended little by little, tracing him with light caresses. Deftly, you unbuttoned his pants and slid them down along with his boxers, exposing the evidence of his desire.

You gently wrapped your fingers around him, feeling his warmth against your skin.

“Mmh~” a small sound escaped your lips.

Your mischievous gaze settled on him before you blurted out, with feigned innocence:

“You seem smaller than I remembered.”

Sunghoon froze, his expression hardening instantly.

“Excuse me?” his tone took on a dangerous edge.

“I'm just saying I remembered it bigger, honey.”

You smiled, giving away the lie.

His eyes narrowed, and before you could react, his fingers tangled in your hair with a firm grip.

“You have no idea what you're getting yourself into, princess.”

“Now I'll keep that damn mouth busy so you'll stop talking nonsense” He tugged at your hair, forcing you to look up at him.

“Understood?”

You averted your gaze, silently challenging him.

His grip tightened.

“I asked if you understood. Answer. Now.”

Your breath trembled.

“ U-understood...” you whispered.

A deep chuckle escaped his lips, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Good girl” he murmured with satisfaction before firmly guiding your head until it bumped against his dick.

You didn't need any more directions. You knew exactly what to do.

Your lips began to spread soft kisses, causing her breath to hitch. You played, you teased, you enjoyed the anticipation, but Sunghoon was not one to tolerate that kind of torture.

“Stop teasing” his gravelly voice made it clear that his patience was wearing thin.

“Open up” It didn't take you long to do as he asked by letting him enter your mouth. Quickly your eyes filled with tears from the rough thrusts he was delivering to your throat.

His fingers brushed your cheek with deceptive tenderness, wiping away the moisture built up in the corners of your eyes.

“Now, why don't you start by apologizing to me?” he whispered, his tone mixing gentleness and authority. “Before I decide to teach you what it really means to play with me.”

The air grew thick between you.

You definitely wouldn't come out of this unscathed.

Sunoo☆

You and Sunoo wandered aimlessly through the store, exploring each aisle leisurely.

When you reached the children's section, your eyes fell on tiny Spiderman print boxer shorts. The thought made you smile mischievously.

“Look, baby. For you” you joked, holding them out in front of him.

Sunoo frowned, clearly offended.

“There wouldn't even fit a part of my dick-” 

You didn't give him a chance to finish. Quickly, you covered his mouth with your hand, before he blurted out something like that in the middle of the children's section. 

“Sunoo!” you whispered in disbelief. “Are you listening to yourself? You can't say that in here...”

A laugh crashed against your hand, sunoo grabbed your wrist and pulled it away from his mouth pushing your hand down. 

Sunoo had placed your hand right on his erection, startling you. You froze as you felt the warmth of his body under your touch.

His hips moved gently but desperately against your hand, trying to soothe the big problem that was growing by the second inside his pants. 

Sunoo leaned toward your ear, her voice barely a murmur laden with intent.

“L-let's go...” he whispered, urgently, tugging gently on your wrist as he headed for the exit.

The ride to the car was silent, but the tension between the two of you was evident.

As you sat in the passenger seat, Sunoo exhaled with a shaky sigh, her gaze meeting yours.

“Take care of me...” he asked in a low tone, his expression reflecting a mixture of anticipation and restrained desire.

 He opened his pants and pulled his dick out without pulling them down, just leaving enough room for it to come out. 

Your hand slowly slid down his thigh, enjoying the anticipation in his eyes. Finally you circled his length eliciting a half-hearted sigh. 

Definitely, the wait until you got home would be too long, as you wouldn't get home without him finishing first.

Jungwon☆

You were on the couch, pretending to be on a call with your friends, just to see Jungwon's reaction.

“He's very cute, the only bad thing is that he's not very big let's say” you said with feigned indifference, making sure he was close enough to hear you.

You waited for some kind of response, but Jungwon ignored it completely. Two hours passed and he didn't even mention the comment, which made you think that maybe he hadn't heard it.

Instead, in the evening, when his lips took yours, you realized how wrong you were.

His kiss didn't have the usual sweetness; it was more intense, more demanding. His tongue pushed its way in firmly, while his hands roamed your body with a possessive touch.

Clothes piled up on the floor, your hands took over everything until he ended up on your breasts. You were ready for more, for him, but just as he was about to continue, he suddenly pulled away.

“Where are you going?” you asked, puzzled.

Jungwon looked at you calmly, but his tone was anything but innocent.

“To the living room. I don't think my dick will satisfy you, so you'd better take care of it yourself.”

You froze.

“N-no, wait...” desperation seeped into your voice as you stood up and pulled him to you. “It was a lie, I promise.”

Jungwon tilted his head, enjoying your reaction.

“ Darling, it's no problem. I'm sure you can manage without me.”

But before he could take another step, you clung to his neck, your lips searching for any way to stop him.

“Please...I was stupid” you whispered against his skin. “I can't without you...”

Your eyes were glazed over, and he noticed immediately.

Without a word he took you in his arms and placed you on the bed towering over you.

“You look so sweet crying for me...” he murmured with a satisfied smile....

He leaned over you, his gaze dark and full of intent.

Finally, he gave you what you so desperately needed, making sure you learned your lesson.

Ni-ki☆

You shed your clothes at the same time as Ni-ki, feeling the warmth of her hand taking yours as she guided you into the shower. The water began to fall, sliding down your bodies as steam enveloped the atmosphere.

A soft chuckle escaped your lips.

“What's wrong?” asked Ni-ki with a smile, not understanding the reason for your amusement.

“He looks so adorable when he's asleep...he looks tiny” you said, pointing down mischievously.

Her smile faded instantly. His eyes darkened and, without warning, his hand closed around your neck with a firmness that made your breathing quicken. In one swift movement, he spun you around and pushed you gently against the wet shower wall, pressing his body against yours.

A gasp caught in your throat.

“I remind you that this dick” his deep voice echoed in your ear “is the same one that leaves you shaking every time. So stop talking nonsense...or you'll go a month without it.”

The heat radiating from her body, added to the contrast of the water sliding across your skin, made you shiver. Her hips brushed against you with intentionality, her grip on your neck intensifying from time to time, as if marking each word with her touch.

Every second that passed, you could feel him growing up right behind you seeing more clearly the effect your joke had had on him. Ni-ki grabbed your wrist and forced you to turn around, facing his chest, noticing the difference in height between the two of you.

He moved even closer, forcing you to lower your gaze.

And then you saw it.

The size difference was overwhelming. How in just a few minutes he had been able to grow to the width and length he was now.

“Well, baby?” he murmured with a sly grin. “Does it still look adorable now?”

Your pulse shot up.

You were definitely in trouble.

[softspiderling]

like, ever | j.v

summary:

“Hey, I’m worried about you.”

You glanced up from your laptop screen to see Rhaena standing in your doorway, her arms crossed.

“Why?”

She gave you a look, before her eyes roamed your room: your textbooks stacked half-hazardly on your desk, two empty ice cream tubs, another half melted one on your nightstand, an empty tissue box on the floor and you on your bed, wrapped in your blanket like a burrito.

OR; You and Jace break up because of a stupid reason, but you’re both too proud to apologize.

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x reader

warnings: kinda toxic behavior from both of them, but like the usual issues in communication that’s so common in people our age idk what to tell you

word count: 4,1k

author’s note: modern au!jace is the president of the frat Alpha Draconis (it's co-ed, Rhaenyra was president during her time at uni), Jace/Aegon/Baela and their respective siblings are all cousins, but this is NOT in the same universe as can I go (where you go). thank you to my wonder sister wife beta @eldrith as usual <3

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“We broke up.”

“No you didn’t.”

“Yes, we did.”

Baela gave you a look, narrowing her eyes at you as she pushed her Econ 1 assignment away. You dropped down on the couch next to her, leaning your head back.

“Why?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” you huffed and Baela whacked you in the arm.

“You just came home and dropped a bomb like that, you can’t just not talk about it.”

“Not talk about what?”

You internally groaned when Helaena’s voice floated from the hallway, the front door shutting behind her. An intervention was inevitable at this point. At least Rhaena wasn’t home yet, you knew she was volunteering until six.

“She and Jace broke up,” Baela told her and Helaena paused in the doorway to the living room, a frown on her face as she undid her braid.

“You didn’t.”

“That’s what I said!”

“You know, normal friends would offer ice cream if their friend was going through a break up.”

“I’d offer you ice cream if you were sad,” Helaena pointed out. She sat down next to you, patting your shoulder. “You don’t look sad.”

“Well, I am sad,” you sniffed, but Baela fixed her brown eyes at you until you threw your hands up in frustration. “Fine! I’m mostly mad, okay? Pissed off, actually!”

Baela folded her legs under herself. “Tell us what happened.”

“I don’t know, she just rubs me the wrong way. It’s like she knows you have a girlfriend and she chooses to ignore that.”

You and Jace were laying in his bed, your head on his chest. He had been telling you about the new pledges of the term, and you weren’t exactly fond of one of them - Laura, a nursing major. You were aware of her being especially touchy with Jace, twirling her hair while she was talking to him and always searching him out at every event. Which was fair, he was the president of the frat after all and at first you had told yourself that you were just projecting but the you noticed that she was laughing at all of Jace’s jokes. She was definitely into him. He was not that funny.

“I don’t know, it’s just the way she is, I think,” he said, and you frowned at him.

“Jace, come on, she’s totally into you.”

“Well, good thing I’m into you,” Jace pointed out, turning his head to nose along your neck but you pushed him away, starting to get annoyed that he wasn’t taking this seriously.

“I mean it, Jace.”

“So do I,” he answered, irritated. “Why does this bother you so much?”

“Because I don’t like another girl’s hands being all over you?”

You sat up, leaning away from him with a frown and he only sighed, laying his head back on the pillow, shutting his eyes. He was starting to piss you off.

“She’s not into me! Everyone tries to butter me up because they want to join the frat. And even if she was, why does it matter?”

“It matters because it bothers me and you clearly don’t care!”

“Of course I care,” Jace sighed. He opened his eyes, reaching out for you, and you had to admit your resolve was starting to crumble. “You’re overreacting.”

And just like that, the wall was back up.

“Wow, thanks.”

Your voice was biting as you spoke, tugging your hand out of his grasp and standing up, grabbing your hoodie. Jace was quick to follow you, brows furrowed. Great, now both of you were mad.

“You’re making a big deal out of nothing!” Jace snapped and you only glared at him.

“Thanks for invalidating my feelings, Jacaerys,” you said sarcastically. “If I’m making a deal out of nothing, maybe we’re both nothing.”

Jace’s face fell and he stopped in his tracks, letting out a huff. “You don’t mean that.”

Maybe you didn’t. But you weren’t about to backtrack now. You were a woman of your words.

“Yes, I do.”

You pulled the door open and rushed out of his room, slamming the door shut behind you. Distantly, you could hear Jace call after you and you secretly hoped he would chase after you, but by the time you made it downstairs to the front door, he was still nowhere to be seen.

“That’s…”

Baela and Helaena exchanged a look and you frowned at them. While you hadn’t expected for them to immediately spring into assuring you that they were on your side - you were dating their cousin after all - you also didn’t quite imagined them being so… Shocked.

“What?” you asked, suddenly growing insecure. “I had a point.”

“Well, yeah,” Baela started, “But so did he.”

“Why did you immediately jump into breaking up?” Helaena asked with a soft voice, the voice you knew she used when she didn’t want to hurt your feelings. You lifted your shoulders, then dropped them again, unable to answer her question.

“Did you want to break up?”

“No!”

You tucked your chin against your chest, a pit forming in your stomach. Did you maybe overreact?

“I was just mad,” you said, frowning, picking at the hem of your shirt.

“.. And you wanted to hurt him?” Baela said, finishing your sentence. Your head shot up, a denial on your lips, but your mouth closed when her words sunk in.

“… Maybe.”

“You two really are hotheaded and stubborn,” Helaena pointed out, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You only glowered, the anger from earlier dissipating and instead was replaced by misery and a little bit of guilt? Luckily, Helaena and Baela left you to your wallowing after they realized you needed some space and you fled to your bedroom, trying to bury yourself in your assignments.

There was only one slight problem. You couldn’t find school bag anywhere.

“Where did I leave it?” you muttered to yourself, checking under your desk for your bag, even opening the drawer for good measure. You were crawling on the floor looking under your bed when it finally dawned on you.

“Fuck.”

You had gone over to the frat’s house right after class, with your school bag. And after the fight, you must have forgotten to grab it.

“Ugh,” you groaned, dropping your forehead on the floor You’d rather crawl under your bed and sleep with the dust bunnies that have been collecting under there than go back to the frat house right now. But you had no choice. The assignment was was due the day after tomorrow and Professor Cole already was in a bad mood because his date went badly.

“Fuck me,” you muttered to yourself, turning to lay on your bad and cursed the Gods for making you miserable as you stared at the ceiling, collecting your wits.

“Oh.”

Luke Velaryon, Jace’s younger AND biological brother, stood in the doorway, apprehensive. He had always been the more sensitive one between the two brothers, but he was also unwaveringly loyal. You had no doubt that Jace had already told him everything about your fight.

“Hey Luke,” you said, giving him a wry smile.

“Hey,” he replied hesitantly. “Jace is not here.”

“I know.”

Luke pressed his lips together, his eyes darting around as if he was expecting his older brother to come out of the bushes any second. “Are you okay?”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. What a sweet boy.

“Yeah, alright enough I guess,” you replied, sighing. “Listen, I forgot my bag in Jace’s room and I really need it to do an assignment, could you let me in?”

“I don’t know….” Luke answered slowly. “Jace should be back soon though. Maybe you can just wait until he gets back? And then you guys could talk?”

Bless him.

You bit on your lip, running your hand through your hair, exasperated. “Listen Luke, I really appreciate you trying to look out for Jace, but I really can’t see him right now.”

Luke exhaled, shifting on his feet like he was undecided. The longer it took for him to decide, the higher chances were you’d run into Jace on your way out.

“Please, Luke, I just need to grab my bag really quickly. He won’t even notice I was there.”

With a loud sigh, Luke finally nodded, opening the door wider and taking a step back.

“He’s gonna be back soon, you need to hurry up.”

“Thanks Luke!”

You hushed past him into the house, walking the familiar way up the stairs to Jace’s bedroom, shutting the door behind you. With a small sigh, you looked around, trying to discern your stuff from his. It was harder than you had first anticipated, your belongings strewn all over the room. Picking your favorite scrunchie off of his nightstand next to a picture of the two of you during New Year’s Eve, you put your hair up as you narrowed your eyes, feeling relief settle in your chest when you saw your backpack lean against the desk.

“Thank God”, you muttered, grabbing it quickly. Just as you headed to the door, hand on the door knob, you could hear voices down the hallway through the closed door. You cursed, recognizing it as Jace and Cregan.

Fuck.

Immediately, you let go of the door knob, taking a few steps back, trying to come up with a way you wouldn’t be caught standing in the middle of Jace’s bedroom. Did you have enough time to make the climb out of the window and scale down the roof?

“- it’ll blow over. I’ll give her some time to calm down and-”

Before you could make a decision, the door swung open, and Jace entered. He was looking back at Cregan, who raised his brows when he saw you in the middle of the room.

“Wha-?” Jace turned his head, his mouth dropping open. “… Hey.”

“Hey.”

Cregan glanced between the two of you, narrowing his eyes. Meanwhile, Jace was rubbing the back of his neck.

“Did you forget something?”

“Yeah,” you answered - LAME! - lifting your backpack.

Jace nodded slowly. “Was there anything you wanted to say?”

You frowned at him, confused.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know,” Jace said, shrugging with his shoulders. “I thought you were here to apologize.”

Cregan groaned, leaning his forehead against the door frame as you felt all the anger from before welling up again.

“Me apologize?” You repeated, your voice shrill. “What about you? I bet Laura’s thrilled to hear we broke up.”

“You just ended things for no reason! Laura’s not even into me!” Jace snapped and Cregan pushed himself off of the door frame.

“Maybe we all should just calm down.”

“Shut up, Cregan!” You and Jace yelled at the same time, your anger very briefly directed at Jace’s best friend.

Cregan flinched, raising his hands defensively. “Jesus, sorry. I’ll never try to help again,” he muttered. “Let me give you two a minute.”

He stepped out of the room but you held your hands up, stopping him with a scoff.

“No, I’m done here,” you huffed, shaking your head in disbelief. With one last angry look at Jace, you pushed between them, running out of the house, smoke coming out of your ears.

You spent the rest of the week distracting yourself. Burying yourself in assignments and reading, eating ice cream - there was a deal at Whole Foods, five for three, your freezer was full - and you only cried once.

“Hey, I’m worried about you.”

You glanced up from your laptop screen to see Rhaena standing in your doorway, her arms crossed.

“Why?”

She gave you a look, before her eyes roamed your room: your textbooks stacked half-hazardly on your desk, two empty ice cream tubs, another half melted one on your nightstand, an empty tissue box on the floor and you on your bed, wrapped in your blanket like a burrito. You sighed, letting the blankets fall from your shoulders.

“I’m fine, Rhae.”

“Hey, did you convince her to come?” Baela skidded to a halt next to Rhaena, looking from her sister to you. Rhaena only sighed while you narrowed your eyes at Baela’s get up. She was wearing black leather pants and a brown corset; she looked like she was going out.

“Come where?”

“Alpha Draconis’ summer term opening party.”

Right that. The party you had helped Jace plan. Before you broke up.

“I don’t know guys,” you sighed, leaning back against your headboard. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to go.”

“You don’t have to go,” Rhaena assured you but Baela shushed her, shaking her head.

“No, you absolutely have to go,” she insisted. “We’ve let you wallow in your misery long enough. It’s time to put your big girl pants on and face Jace. You broke up with him for a shitty reason and yes, he was being a jerk, but you were being a bitch. Now suck it up and get your man back.”

You gaped at her, and Rhaena whacked Baela in the arm, but she only shrugged, ever the unapologetic brutally honest one.

“What? You know I’m right,” Baela only said, frowning at her twin before she turned to you. “So?”

With a groan, you closed your eyes. You knew Baela was right, in a way, and it was no use sitting around when your friends were going out. You had to see him eventually.

“Fine,” you gave in, pushing the blanket back as Baela cheered, immediately disappearing. Rhaena only shook her head, stepping into your bedroom, helping you clean up a little.

“I’m driving,” she told you. “Just tell me if you want to leave, okay?”

You nodded, giving Rhaena a grin when something soft just hit you in the face with no warning, courtesy of Baela having returned to your bedroom.

“Put that on.”

The projectile fell to floor, and as you picked it up, you recognized it as a dark red dress, tags still on.

“Hel’s headed to the party from work, so we’ll meet her there in an hour, go take a shower and I’ll do your hair,” Baela said, reaching for your hand to pull you up. “Come on, up up up!”

Begrudgingly, you let Baela usher you into the shower, shutting the door behind you very decidedly. You stared at yourself in the mirror, eyes rimmed red and hair a mess and you allowed yourself a minute of respite before you turned the shower on. If you had to go to that stupid party, you’d make sure to look the absolute best.

“Am I crazy or is it even more crowded than last term?”

You winced as you followed Baela and Rhaena through an especially crowded spot in the house, glancing around.

“No, it’s definitely more people,” Baela agreed, squeezing your hand to make sure not to lose you in the mass. “Has Helaena said where she is?”

“She said she was in backyards,” Rhaena replied and Baela steered you in the direction of the backyard. Meanwhile you tried not to let your eyes roam too much; you didn’t want to seem like you were looking for Jace, even though that was exactly what you were doing. Just as you reached the patio doors, Helaena appeared, stopping you in the doorway.

“Hey guys,” she said, breathless, her eyes flitting over to you as you greeted her. “Should we go get drinks?”

“I’m not dragging my ass back through that crowd,” you moaned, shaking your head. “Let’s just sit down by the pool for a second before we go back in.”

You nudged Helaena out of the way gently, but the blonde grabbed your arm, trying to pull you back.

“But I’m really thirsty.”

“Hel, come on,” you laughed. “You’ll survive ten more minutes without-”

The rest of your words died on your tongue when you caught sight of Jace sitting by the pool, surrounded by his frat brothers and of course, Laura. Now you knew why Helaena was so adamant to get you away from the backyard. It was too loud to hear what Jace was saying, but he must be telling an extremely funny story with the way Laura was laughing, touching his shoulder. They weren’t doing anything scandalous, but it still hurt you to see him still talking to her after you voiced your concerns. You tried not to let it get to you. It wasn’t your business anymore anyways, but you were still a little sick to the stomach.

With a scoff, you turned away, embarrassment burning your cheeks as your friends looked at you with pitiful eyes.

“Sorry,” Rhaena said and you only shrugged with your shoulders.

“Whatever,” you muttered, clearing your throat. “I told you, she was into him. Now he’s free to do as he pleases.”

Baela winced. “We can leave, if you want.”

“No, I’m not leaving because of that clown.”

The girls let out a laugh and Helaena wrapped her arm around you. You gave her a wry smile, leaning into her.

“Let’s go get you that drink.”

As Helaena dragged you away, you couldn’t help but glance back to Jace and for a split second, your eyes met. You quickly turned away, feeling a lump form in your throat. You couldn’t wait to get drinks. After getting to the kitchen, the four of you did two rounds of shots, knowing where the boys kept their expensive booze; Rhaena then mixed you some drinks before you settled on the couch in the living room. Taking a careful sip of your cup, you immediately pulled a face, looking at Rhaena.

“What the hell is in this?”

“I think Grey Goose and Coke.”

“You think?” you asked, wincing when you took another sip. “This is awful Rhae.”

“What is awful?”

Aegon, Helaena’s brother, one cousin of many in the Targaryen family, suddenly plopped down on the couch next to you.

“Oh great, Aegon is here,” Baela deadpanned and Aegon only mocked Baela as he reached for your drink.

“Sure, just go ahead and take my drink.”

Aegon took a big gulp of your drink, humming. “It’s not bad,” he said, offering the cup back to you but you politely declined. You didn’t know where Aegon’s mouth had been in the last 24 hours, there was no way you’d drink out of the same cup he had.

“So, what’s this I hear about you and our cousin breaking up?” Aegon asked, throwing his arm around the back of the couch and you scooted forward, trying to escape his touch.

“You heard right,” you said, throwing him a dirty look and Rhaena rolled her eyes.

“You’re a dick, Aeg.”

“What?” Aegon exclaimed. “’t was just a question, no harm done, right?”

You let out a deep sigh, pushing away from the couch.

“I need some air,” you told the girls and Rhaena furrowed her brows, worried.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“We can make Aegon leave,” Baela offered and Aegon made a noise, frowning at his cousin but you shook your head,

“Nah, I’m good. Just, text me if you guys go somewhere, okay?”

“Are you sure, babe?” Helaena asked and you nodded, patting her shoulder gently.

“Yeah, ‘m fine. I promise.”

With a small wave, you disappeared into the crowd, hearing the cousins starting to argue, but it was background noise to you. Instead of heading to the front door, you inconspicuously headed upstairs, past a kissing couple, and to the bathroom on the second floor. The door was shut, but unlocked and unoccupied as you opened the door. You let it fall shut in its hinges after you, walking over to the window, like you had done so many times before, but never alone. Clicking the window open, you carefully climbed out to the roof, sliding the window closed behind you again. You traipsed over the roof, before settling down on the small nook that sat right above Benjicot’s bedroom, stretching out your legs.

Jace had shown you this place when you first started dating, and sometimes when the parties got too much, the two of you snuck out here to be alone. It was probably risky to go here; but it was the only place you felt like you could retreat without having to go home.

The noise of the party downstairs could still be heard, especially the conversations in the backyard, but to you, it seemed quieter as you closed your eyes. It had cooled down significantly since you had come to the party, but you enjoyed the bite of the cold on your bare arms. A deep breath escaped your lips, your chest heavy.

Looking back on it, you knew what you had said was wrong. It was words hurled in the heat of the moment, chosen to provoke a reaction out of Jace and if you could take them back, you would. But now it was too late, it had seemed like Laura had already sunken her talons into Jace as soon as he was available - not that she had cared much about whether he had a girlfriend or not - and he seemed to be lapping it up.

“Stupid,” you muttered to yourself, wiping the tear that escaped your eye from your cheek with the back of your hand. You froze, when you heard the bathroom window slide open; not daring to look back. His steps were careful as he walked towards you, as if not to spook you, but before he came into view, a soft jacket was draped over your shoulders, engulfing you in his scent. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, tugging the jacket tighter around your body when Jace sat down next to you.

The silence between you stretched on, before Jace cleared his throat.

“You were right.”

You let out a small scoff at his words, glancing over to him.

“You’re shitting me, right?” you asked in disbelief. “She was all over you like that and you still thought she wasn’t into you?”

Jace winced, ducking his head.

“That’s fair. Maybe I was a little oblivious. It’s just…” he paused, sighing. “I didn’t see it, because I don’t really see other girls. Ever since we met, it’s just been you. I didn’t even realize that she was flirting with me until she straight up asked me if we could go upstairs.”

Jealousy flared up in your chest at his words, and you frowned, quickly giving him a once over.

“Well, did you?” you asked, your voice tight. Jace gave you a look, his hands dropping down on his lap.

“I’m sitting here with you, aren’t I?”

Relief flooded your veins and you ducked your head to hide your face. Jace glanced over at you, his face vulnerable and you bit your lip.

“I’m sorry too,” you then said. “I didn’t mean what I said. It was petty and stupid, and I’m sorry.”

“Well looks like we both got to work on some things,” Jace said, tentatively reaching out to take your hand; out of reflex you immediately laced your hand with his. He quirked a smile at you, scooting closer to you and you glanced up at him, almost shyly before you leaned in, as he met you halfway, your lips touching. Jace wrapped his hand around the back of your neck as you kissed, and if you hadn’t felt warm before, you definitely did now.

“What’s happening?”

“They’re kissing!”

“No way! Move over!”

“You move over!”

A crash sounded and you pulled away from Jace, just to see Luke and his cousins spying on you from the bathroom.

“Nothing to see here, carry on!” Luke yelled, quickly sliding the window back down, but their bickering could be heard through the closed window.

Jace snorted out a laugh, leaning his forehead against yours and you only grinned lazily at him.

“Come on, let’s go face the circus before they break the window and we have to scale down the roof,” Jace said, offering you his hand as he got up. You let him help you up, as the two of you walked back to the bathroom window.

“You know I thought about scaling down the roof when you caught me in your bedroom?”

“You’re joking.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author’s note: tell me what you think <3 also will add the taglist tomorrow bc i’m so tired but wanted to post🫶🏼

[thinkingthingsthrough]

would it be insane of me to try and go see ed sheeran twice in detroit next month after already seeing him in toronto this month

[kurokawaia]

❛ GENTLE ❜

HImejima Gyomei x Fem!Wife!Reader

WC; 1.3k+ | !MDNI! | TW/CW :: x fem reader, fem pronouns, fem bodied reader, oral -> female receiving, male giving, fingering, praise, slight overstimulation? implied size kink, reader is smaller than Gyomei + probably more

⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝑅𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯 :: (filled request) could you write a Gyomei Himejima x reader smut. Because I think her would be SO gentle if her ate them out. And would constantly check in on her and maybe at the some after care. - ANON

A/NOTE :: This has been re uploaded bc it wasn't showing up in tags :(

m.list | demon slayer m.list

You were sprawled out beneath Gyomei, your legs over his beefy shoulders and your head thrown back against the plushy pillow beneath your head. There was also a smaller pillow propped underneath your hips, Gyomei said that it would make it more comfy for you and it did. He always worried about your pleasure and comfort.

"G-Gyo," you whimper out as his nose bumps against your clit.

"Are you okay?" he asks, worried about how much your voice was whimpering at the small amount of contact with your most sensitive area.

You squirm under the hold Gyomei's hand on your thighs, back subtly arching into his face, wanting to indulge further in his touch. 

"Yeah," you say breathlessly.

"You'll be alright, my love," Gyomei reassures, placing soft and fluttery kisses on your stomach.

You shiver underneath the simple gestures, awaiting when he puts his tongue and fingers to use. 

"'M know, Gyo," you replied, your fingers interlacing with his short black strands. "You're jus' so big."

Gyomei lifts his head towards yours, wondering what you meant as his intent was to pleasure you on his tongue. However, he quickly realises that you were referring to how thick only one of his fingers was, and he would usually use two. A frown crosses onto his face, worried that through out all the times you tow have been intimate with each other, he had been causing you pain. 

"Have I been causing you pain, my love?" he asked worriedly.

"Wha-! No, Gyo," you replied. "It's just' you're so much sometimes, takes me so long to get used to and I finish so quick." 

You finish so quickly because of the sheer size of him.

Gyomei descends once more to your most sensitive area, your soaked cunt. "You need to tell me if I hurt you."

"You never hurt me, Gyo," you said while a shaky breath leaves your mouth.

A whimper leaves your mouth when he places a kiss on your clit and your thighs clench around his head. You attempt to arch away from the overwhelming sensation but Gyomei's grip keeps you in place. 

"G-Gyo," you moan out.

"I know, love," Gyomei reassures. "It's okay, I'm here, tell me if it's too much."

God, he was so gentle with you that it felt like you would break beneath his touch. His grasp on your thighs somewhat relaxed, giving you a tangible reassurance that you could pull away if necessary. However, he cherished it because you were so little in comparison to him and beneath him that he was afraid to shatter you.

Once more, Gyomei's nose brushes up against your delicate clit, and your grip on his hair tightened. A satisfied sigh seeps through him into your folds as a mewl from your full lips.

"Are you okay?" he asks before licking a long stripe up your folds and you moan, your back arching and your cunt pressing further into his face which he relished in. 

You whimpered before answering, trying to gather your scattered thoughts, "Yeah, 'm am, Gyo."

He loves you so intensely it hurts, and your response makes his heart sing. His tongue climbs up from your wet hole to your clit while you let out a moan. Your thighs tighten around his head as a result of his constriction, and as you grind down on his face, a moan echoes through your clit. Your lips were filled with chants of his name, and he relished every moment of it.

"Gyo, f-feels s' good," you moan, tears welling in your lash line, he was making you feel so good. 

"You're okay?" Gyomei asks.

When you feel a thick finger push past your closing walls, you furiously nod your head, your eyes expand, and you cry with delight. It felt so fantastic that you never want it to finish, even though you thought you would break because he was so huge.

His finger pressed up against that soft spot inside your walls. Gyomei was slow with his pace as he curled his fingers every time he entered your cunt, along with sucking and licking at your puffy, sensitive clit. 

"You're being so good, you're doing so well," Gyomei moans against you, refusing to rut his hips into the mattress, this was your pleasure, not his own. 

A moan arouses from you and your hips grind themselves onto his face. He let you for once have some sort of control over the situation, and he decided that if you came quicker he'll let you do it more often. "That's it," he praised.

His motions become more rapid and needy as you cry his name through broken letters, and the one hold he held on your leg tightens. Your stomach coil tightened, and your fingers wrapped around his locks to stop him from moving and make him sigh deeper into your folds.

The only thing the groans did was push you over the edge, and when he placed his tongue firmly against your clit, a quiet scream from your lips. Your stomach coil unwound, soaking his face completely.

He slowly removed his fingers from your drenched pussy, your cum spilling out from your puffy folds. Before rising his head, he places a kiss on your clit and your mewl softly in overstimulation.

"Are you alright, love?" he asks worried, kissing away the pleasure-caused tears streaming down your cheeks and the side of your face.

You hmm in peaceful contentment as he peppers gentle and soothing kisses to your face. "I am, dear," you reply.

"You did so well, you took me so well," Gyomei praises.

A mumbled thank you leaves your lips before you wrap your arms around Gyomei. "I'm s' tired," you slur out.

"I'll clean you up, don't worry," Gyomei says. "I'll wash you up."

Your eyes widen, "But what about you?"

"Giving you pleasure makes me feel more pleasured than anything," he reassures before adding, "Let's go clean up." And he picks you up to take you to the bath.

The warm steam rises from the bathwater as you and Gyomei settle into the large, wooden tub, its surface rippling gently with the movement of your bodies. The fragrant scent of lavender and eucalyptus fills the air.

Gyomei helps you ease into the bath, his strong hands guiding you gently. The water is pleasantly hot, enveloping you in a soothing embrace. As you both get comfortable, Gyomei sits behind you, his broad back against the tub’s edge, creating a space for you to lean back against him.

So warm.

He takes a soft washcloth and dips it into the warm water, wringing it out before gently placing it on your shoulders. His touch is careful, his movements deliberate as he begins to wash away any pain or soreness that you have gotten.

"You did so good for me," he murmurs, his voice a calming rumble against your ear. "I’m proud of you, you're so good."

You close your eyes, savouring the tenderness of his touch and the warmth of the water. Gyomei's hands move with care, his touch so gentle with your body, ensuring you feel safe and loved by him.

As he washes your back, he occasionally leans forward to press soft kisses to your neck and shoulders, each one causing butterflies to rise in your stomach. You can feel his breath on your skin, adding an extra layer of warmth.

After you’ve been thoroughly pampered, Gyomei carefully helps you rinse off, his hands guiding the water over your body with a steady, reassuring touch. He then takes a moment to gently brush your hair, running his fingers through it.

Once the washing is done, he wraps you in a large, fluffy towel, his movements slow as he dries you off with care. His touch is gentle, making sure every inch of your skin is dried and warm. His steady heartbeat and the warmth of his body against yours create a sense of profound peace, and you feel a deep connection with him.

"You’re my everything," he whispers, his voice filled to the brim with love. "I want to take care of you always."

You smile, resting your head on his chest, and let the soothing warmth body against you lull you to sleep in his hold, because you know that if you fall asleep, he will be there to dress you and take to to bed. And you will be safe in his arms. 

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