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tired-biscuit · 2 months

Note

hmmm thinking about bratty, shit disturbing omega reader telling alpha kiba 'ooo you wanna breed me so bad' during a petty argument when they're not even together and it resulting in him putting you in a non-con mating press.....

18+ MDNI, fem!omega!reader // cw: noncon, omegaverse, breeding, reader is in heat and kiba is MEAN about it.

wait, this is actually perfect; there’s just something about omegaverse and kiba that makes such a good combo every single time!

i’m thinking about him being your neighbour. he’s nice on the eyes but he’s also grouchy, not much of a talker, and always seems super tense whenever you bump into each other in the hallway or at the entrance leading into your apartment complex.

and when i say tense, i mean tense. your mailbox resides next to his, so if you by any chance come down to get mail at the same time as him, he’s clutching his bills with a white-knuckled grip and is storming right back upstairs and slamming his door shut with an unnecessarily loud thud before you’ve even finished sticking your key into the tiny lock.

while living so close to each other, you’ve tried being polite towards him on several occasions. have greeted him with a smile and a quick “morning!” or “hi!” even though all he did in response was grumble something under his breath and brush you right off. you even went as far as to ask him how his run went when he came back into the building drenched in sweat and with his cheeks flushed a pretty red one time, but to no avail. the face he pulled made him look like he was seconds away from telling you to fuck off.

all signs point to general dislike no matter what you do, so winning him over just for the sake of having a good relationship seems to be outright impossible. which is also a huge bummer because he lives right next door, and it’d be nice to have him on your side since it significantly lessens the chance of him nagging you when the music is a smidge too loud or whenever you have friends staying the night.

by the time several weeks had passed — hell, you’ve endured almost two months of this crap — and he was no closer to warming up to you, you’d given up. not only that, you also made sure to give him a taste of his own medicine: you got rid of the sweet girl attitude and instead started treating him the same way he treated you.

rudely.

so it’s no wonder that he appears to be absolutely fucking pissed when he shows up at your doorstep one day when you’re in the middle of suffering through one of your worst heats yet, banging on your door with an impatient fist and sporting the pushiest demeanor you’ve ever seen.

when you finally force yourself to get off the couch and open the door, the first thing you realise is that he’s so big that he fills the entire entrance. all muscle and raw, brutal power. you’ve never gotten the chance to see him this upclose.

the glare in his dark brown eyes is harsh as he immediately makes eye contact with you, and his lips press into a firm line. there’s a constant flutter of a muscle in his right cheek that he can’t seem to get rid of.

he doesn’t look happy.

and there’s an odd sinking feeling appearing in the pit of your stomach because of it.

“what do you want?” you ask, trying your best to breathe as little as possible through your nose. he smells like pure alpha, heavy and intense because of that wretched musk — a scent you definitely shouldn’t be in close vicinity of at this particular time.

“i want you to get the fuck out of this building already,” he snarls with zero hesitation, gripping the side of the doorframe so that he can shove himself even further into your space. “you’re stinking up the entire place with your omega bullshit and it’s making it hard to think.”

“ex-…” you blink slowly, taken aback by the jumble of insults he’s just thrown at you. “excuse me?”

“you heard me the first time,” he snips, baring his front teeth for a split second as he visibly cringes at you. his canines are sharp; it’s your first time noticing this since he sure as hell never smiled in your presence. “i’ve got work in the morning and i can’t relax when your scent is taking over the entire goddamn floor. either find someone to take care of your heat for ya and give that vibrator that you’ve been riding since last night a rest already, or move the fuck out.”

you stare at him, dumfounded and wide eyed just like the first time. he stares right back, with his jaw tightly clenched and his shoulders stiff.

and there’s just something about the way he looks at you now, about the way he looks now — so rugged and blatantly male and rough around the edges, that causes your panties to turn even slicker than they already are.

“you’ve gotta be kidding me… christ, are all of you omegas so freaking pathetic?” he mutters quietly as he watches you squeeze your thighs together.

you’re dressed in nothing but a pair of tiny panties and an oversized t-shirt since you planned to do nothing else but sit at home today and try to make yourself feel better. the thin piece of fabric is doing absolutely nothing when it comes to keeping the scent of your urges at bay.

kiba’s throat feels like it’s on fire. it makes it hard to speak when he says, “whatever, just- are you gonna do somethin’ about it or not?”

“no, i’m not.” in your disoriented, the-heat-has-outright-cooked-my-brain-and-turned-it-into-useless-mush state, you can’t help but say the first thing that pops into your mind, “i’ve got just as much of a right to be here as everyone else does, you know, and it’s not my fault that you can’t focus because your shitty alpha brain is telling you to breed me… so if that’s all, i’ll be kindly asking you to get off my doorstep. i have a toy i want to get back to.”

you go to slam the door shut right in front of his nose, only to be caught off guard when BAM! — he uses his hand to shove it right back open again.

oh, he’s definitely not used to omegas disrespecting him or acting bratty around him. because of it, he’s all up in your face in a matter of seconds, blood boiling underneath tan skin.

with every step he takes forward, you try to take one back, but it doesn’t take long for him to corner you. before you know it, he’s got you with your back against the wall. his cock is thick and heavy in his sweatpants, pressing against your thigh and exposing the fact that your heat is affecting him too, and you spring into action because of it, desperately fighting to create more distance between your body and his.

however, the problem is that he’s ended up standing so close to you that the proximity is practically non-existent. trying to shove him away is futile since he’s so much bigger than you that he looms over your smaller frame and keeps you caged between the wall and himself with no issue.

you don’t stand a chance against him.

“look at me.”

forced to act submissive by nature, you give in easily to his demand despite the fact that it takes all the effort in the world for you to even attempt to refuse it. so you lift your gaze like the good little omega that you are, and you come to learn that there are tiny summer freckles dusting the bridge of his nose. you’ve never gotten the chance to see him this upclose either.

mentioned bridge slightly scrunches with displeasure now as his hand moves to wrap around your throat. he leans in, his voice hoarse, “is anyone else in here with ya?”

“y-yes,” you stammer, upper lip wobbling because of the fastly upcoming tears that are threatening to fall any second now. you’re well aware that alphas can get aggressive whenever they slip into rut, so you and your big mouth have put yourselves in quite the predicament. and if anything, this particular situation is definitely good enough of a reason to cry about.

“don’t you dare fucking lie to me. that shit pisses me off.” he gives your neck a firm squeeze, enough to make you kick your feet against the floor in sheer, utter panic. a scared little voice in your head tells you that he could lift you right off the ground if he wanted to. or worse.

“no, n-no there isn’t anyone else here!” you squeak out. “it’s just me and my cat! m’sorry!”

his eyebrows draw together.

“what?” you ask warily, trying to calm him down by distracting him even though you’re well aware that he can smell how wet your pussy has become by now and that it’s making him lose more and more of his sense of morality. there’s just something about his touch… it’s so warm that it makes you want to arch your back, as unbelievable as that sounds. “is something the matter?”

“no,” he mutters, still looking unimpressed. god, do his features ever soften? “it’s just that i hate cats, is all… dogs are better.”

you make a mental note to remember this piece of information for whatever reason. what the fuck.

“anyway,” he continues before you can say anything. “let’s take care of your heat now. i have a game to watch later, so i wanna be done by six… unless you feel like warming my dick at my place, that is.”

“w-what?” you freeze, cold sweat rushing over you. one tear falls, sliding down your much too feverish cheek and you sniffle. “no, wait-”

“yeah, yeah, you don’t want it, blah blah blah,” he brushes you off so carelessly that it makes your pulse begin to hammer inside your ears. “and yet you’re still soaking wet between your legs and feeling like you’ll die if i don’t shove my cock inside ya this very instant. spare me with the poor, helpless omega crap, sweetheart... you ain’t foolin’ anybody.”

he’s looking directly into your eyes again, completely shameless and with zero remorse, and you’re so turned on by it that your clit is throbbing. it’s making you slightly nauseous.

“i…” you swallow thickly, trying not to think about the amount of saliva that’s gathering in your mouth. “i don’t-”

without a single warning, he presses himself against you in a way that instantly makes you buck your hips towards him in search for more friction. when he begins to draw back, you act before thinking; grabbing a fistful of his t-shirt and frantically tugging him closer.

“see, i told ya,” he purrs, cruel satisfaction evident on his face as he watches you struggle. “you need me.”

he’s right. god-fucking-damn it, he’s right. the urgency to have an alpha like him inside you has gotten so bad by now that you can barely stand. if it weren’t for his hand that he’s still got wrapped around your throat, you’re pretty sure you’d already be laying on the floor by now.

and that is exactly where you end up.

on the floor, naked, manhandled into a mating press and forcefully stuffed full with his cock. moaning like a slut, sweating like crazy and crying at him to stop, to fucking stop stop STOP, even though you’re the one who’s reaching out, desperately trying to cling onto him and keep him inside.

the sounds your pussy is making whenever he sinks in to the hilt is fucking embarrassing. you’re so wet, practically delirious with want, twitching and whining when he hits that sweetspot deep inside you. you don’t even know his first name, so you’re just babbling nonsense, clawing at his strong arms in meek attempt to punish him.

“open your legs wider f’me.”

the desire to spread your legs further for him even if he’s literally the meanest piece of shit of a man is making you feel disgusting, but you just can’t stop yourself from obeying. your body wants him, it yearns for him, and it’s making your hormones go batshit crazy.

“that’s it, sweetheart.” he pants above you as he praises you, back arching and bicep flexing when he places one hand on your belly. “trying to be such a good girl for your alpha, huh? gonna do just about anythin’ to get me to knock ya up.”

your sobbing intensifies when he presses into the bulge his cock makes underneath your skin.

it’s the first time you see him smile.

#cw noncon #cw omegaverse #biscuit drabbles #naruto smut #kiba x reader #kiba smut #naruto x reader #kiba inuzuka x reader

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junislqve · 3 months

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⟡ out of limit — ot7

when they find out you’re secretly liking them (and they are secretly liking you too) — minor drawback, you are their best friend’s sister

pairs members + reader content petnames fluff wordcount 1632 — find my other works

note i love writing prompts, this was supposed to be a short-ish headcannon hence why hee's is kinda short. but i got carried away lmfao

LEE HEESEUNG

“thanks, pretty”

heeseung would relentlessly tease you once he finds out. calling you petnames and complimenting you all the time just to get a reaction out of you.

he finds it adorable when you would blush and dismiss his flirting with a mumble.

of course, he knew that he wouldn’t even get the chance to confess his feelings back to you before his head gets chopped off by jay. but he found his way around.

sneaking into your room when jay’s back is turned or sneaking in a few kisses when you all watch movies together. he loves the way you would get red from his words, looking away out of embarrassment.

he loves the thrill of meeting you, getting to hold you and savor you even if it was only for a while.

he would take risks if it meant being able to hold you and be beside you. snuggling his head into the crook of your neck chasing the comfort you gave him.

PARK JONGSEONG

he’s quiet. he already was before, much more now when he found out.

jay was never really a talkative person to people who weren’t his friends. but he has always felt comfortable with you, talking about his days and anything he’s thinking about.

that was what brought you to like him. at first, you thought that he was quite intimidating and would be really hard to talk to. but since he was your brother’s best friend, jay had warmed up to you from the countless visits he’s paid to your house.

you’d realize his abrupt silence towards you. you thought he was avoiding you, thinking you’ve said something wrong to him.

however, the only reason he’s gone silent was because he was scared you’d find out he likes you back. his heartbeat speeding like crazy when you put your face so close to his in attempt to make him break character and start talking to you again.

of course, you won and he ended up mumbling nonsense to you while hiding his face afraid it was going to turn red if he continued to see your pretty face so up close.

“stop doing that… you look too pretty”

SIM JAEYUN

“i like you too”

the absolute worst at keeping secrets so the moment he finds out he’s just going to have this dazed look. he was in love with you. that much, all of his friends knew, except for heeseung of course.

you didn’t even know of jake’s existence until you were waiting for your brother to pick you up and he was there in the passenger seat. he and your brother talked a lot and you just tuned them out.

what you didn’t expect was for him to turn around and talk to you. you thought he was about to ask the basics; your name, age, whatever. however, jake started including you in their conversation. asking for your opinions about something they were talking about.

since then, you’ve always liked whenever jake would hang out with your brother. knowing that he would ask if you wanted to join them every single time. he was so sweet and caring, and really good looking. how could’ve you not fallen for him?

so when you and jake were left in the ice cream parlor as your brother went to the bathroom. jake was observing your rigid figure. your eyes trained on your phone for dear life, scrolling up and down your contact list just to avoid awkwardness.

that’s when jake said it, gazing at you with a soft smile, “i like you too, you know?”

PARK SUNGHOON

you knew sunghoon purely from gossip. everyone had different opinions about him, most including the words ‘cold’ and ‘quiet’. you’ve only ever seen him whenever he had to receive trophies from the principal for winning competitions.

you were an average student. your grades were’t horrible, but they weren’t stellar either. so imagine your surprise when you got paired up with sunghoon for an end of year project worth 60% of your grades.

truthfully, you were scared of him for a while. thinking he would be strict with schedule and meetups. sunghoon however proved you wrong when he started chatting you first asking when you were free to do the work and not minding the place of meetup.

you worked with him for 3 months until the project was finally complete and perfect. during those times, you both had met up plenty of times each time getting to know the other more by exchanging stories.

sunghoon found out when he forgot to take his bag in the class and overheard your friend convincing you to confess. you sat slumped across her, your hand on your head.

sunghoon was just battling himself at this point. he harbored feelings for you that he’s been denying for months. he’s known you for way longer than you thought. having his eye on you way before the fated project pairing.

he took an interest in you, finding it fun to observe you in silence and trying to come up with a way to approach you.

however, all of it went down the drain when he found out your brother, jake, is quite well known to be protective. and what’s worse is that he knew your brother, not personally but well acquainted enough.

sunghoon didn’t really know how to express the feelings he had for you. even after hearing you confess, basically. so he attempted to do it without words. listing all the things you liked and disliked in his head for future reference.

“you said you were craving ice cream” showing up at your doorstep, his body soaking wet from the rain, panting. but the plastic bag he grasped tightly was completely dry, filled with much more snacks than you would ever need.

KIM SUNOO

“wasn’t it obvious?”

you knew sunoo was a very cheerful and chatty person. it wasn’t weird that you two had become well acquainted despite him being your brother’s best friend.

he was a really friendly person which drove you to become comfortable talking to him, even if your brother wasn’t around. his kindness and concern for you made you take an immediate liking to him.

you knew however that that was sunoo’s nature so you really didn’t have your hopes up. labeling anything he does as just him being his own friendly self. it took sunoo quite a while to figure out you liked him.

almost immediately after finding out sunoo’s chattiness towards you grew tenfold. meanwhile, you were trying to avoid him.

sunoo caught on and one day stopped by your apartment unexpectedly, “i thought you liked me” he says with a faux pout.

at first you were scared he didn’t like you back but rest assured, he gave you the biggest hug and peppered kisses all over your face right after.

“you’re adorable when you’re flustered”

YANG JUNGWON

“i don’t want you to walk home alone”

you barely knew jungwon. yet from how he acted towards others, you’ve always looked up to him.

he was entirely selfless and loved helping people.

the lines between fascination and like quickly blurred when you were the one being his object of affection.

because jungwon and your brother became close friends, jungwon took it upon himself to take care of you too. meaning, when your brother wasn’t there, jungwon was.

somewhere between all the after-school hangouts and him taking you out to watch movies together, the mere closeness of jungwon made your head dizzy.

he always hugged you alot, it was all friendly. but now his smell overtakes your senses, his warmth circling every inch of your body.

and by the time you tried to distance from him, he never let you out of his sight.

when you refused to let him drive you back home and would rather wait for the rain to stop, jungwon went and sat there with you, draping his jacket around your figure.

“i’m waiting here with you” he says smiling so sweetly, those dimples in view. his hand went to pat your head and you unconsciously leaned to his touch.

NISHIMURA RIKI

riki was your own best friend along with your brother’s. when you two first met, you both immediately clicked, much to your brother’s dismay.

he had always liked you a bit more than your brother, teasing you yet giving you everything you want.

put simply, he’s wrapped around your finger. you just didn’t know that.

any smart person can see that he’s head over heels. i mean, who would willingly run to your house in the middle of the night just because you said you were hungry other than riki?

you usually went out with your brother, though the begging would take somewhere within half an hour, but you won most of the time nonetheless.

however, with riki, you had just shot him a short text that seriously didn’t mean as much. only a small ‘i’m kinda hungry’ and you find him outside your door minutes later, holding his car keys.

you both end up in a 24 hour convenience store at midnight, slurping up warm ramen together.

when someone opened the door and the wind from outside hits your face, you didn’t expect riki to hold your hair back as you continued chewing.

you might be weak willed here, but after that day he kept bringing a hair tie on his wrist. specifically on days you two would hang out and with much denial, you knew you had feelings for him.

not to worry though, because he’s been in love with you for the longest time.

you just couldn’t catch the gaze he had when he held your hair, or the smile he has when you cracked an unfunny joke.

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moonstruckme · 3 months

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Hey! love your writing so so much!! im just here to request a little drabble with one of the marauders boys (or all three cus the more the merrier lol) where the reader's stomach hurts and is bloated (maybe on period idk) but she is hesitant for him to cuddle or touch her stomach cus she is insecure of it <3 thanks so much, keep up your amazing writing

Thank you gorgeous <3

cw: period pains, insecurity around stomach

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 526 words

“Baby.” Sirius is pouting. It feels a bit unfair, considering you’re the one in pain. “You’re being terribly selfish.”

“Stop.” You shift away from his hand, trying to creep around your side, and hold in a low pained sound at the movement.

“Stop holding out on me,” he shoots back. His voice is equal parts fond and teasing, wheedling in the way he knows is most likely to get to you.

This is basically routine by now, and one of your least favorites of all the routines you’ve developed with your boyfriend. Your period will come, and in those first couple of days when you feel the grossest and most pathetic you’ve ever been, one part of you wants Sirius to hold you while the other part wants him nowhere near you. Predictably, Sirius sides with the first part. He always wins.

“I just wanna help, gorgeous.” He lets his voice drop into a more genuine register, leaning down to smear a kiss across your temple. “I know it’s not much, but I can at least give you a good cuddle, yeah?”

Truthfully, that’s all there is left to do. Sirius isn’t giving himself enough credit. Because of him, your craving for chocolate cake has been sated, you’ve been delivered pain relievers as soon as you’re allowed to have them, and there’s a warm bag of rice resting low on your abdomen. Even now, his hand is massaging gently at the muscles of your lower back, keeping the worst of your cramps at bay.

You sigh, pulling your knees a bit tighter to your chest. You feel unfit to be perceived right now. You can hardly think about your boyfriend looking at your bloated stomach, much less touching it.

“I just feel so gross,” you say.

“Well, that’s just sacrilege.” Sirius lifts his head, looking down on you in mock horror. “And you’re the loveliest thing I know, so it’s blatantly untrue to boot. No one is allowed to talk about my girl like that, even you, got it?”

It’s not his words that get you so much as his tone, so totally scandalized that it tugs a laugh from inside your chest. Sirius grins, but the muscles in your abdomen spasm in protest, and he winces when the pain shows in your face.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he coos, dark brows bunched compassionately as he presses another kiss to your hairline. “I’m sorry, baby. You gonna let me kiss it better?”

You give him a look which you hope conveys great reluctance, but Sirius’ eyes light anyway.

“C’mere, honey.” He doesn’t give you a chance to change your mind, lifting your shirt to touch his lips delicately to your stomach before sidling up to you and wrapping his arms around your middle. “That’s better, isn’t it?”

It is. Pretty much instantly, actually, but you don’t have to admit that. Sirius burrows his face into the crook of your neck and shoulder, nipping playfully at your skin. You think he knows anyway.

“Stubborn thing,” he says. “Fine, you can be excused because you’re poorly. You always get your way in the end, don’t you?”

No, that’s him.

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fandom-imagines-stories · 1 year

Text

Going Down Swingin

Kayce Dutton x Reader

Words: 4271

Summary: Tired of being holed up on the ranch, the reader begs her husband to calm his paranoid mind for one night so she can go out to the bar with some of the ranch hands. Turns out, his concerns were founded.

Notes: God I love this man. I honestly have had ideas for Kayce imagines for like a year and now I’m finally finishing them (well, at least this one). I hope to do more with him soon, so fingers crossed for my blonde cowboy husband!

Warnings: Harassment, assault, fighting, wounds-

The cage of his arms was a welcome one. It kept you safe while also reminding you of every moment that led to this one.

In this case, you were reminded of how you got into this position.

Kayce’s beard tickled the back of your neck as his lips trailed down to your shoulder and back up again. You sighed contently and nestled back into his embrace.

“Time to get up,” He mumbled.

You screwed your eyes shut and shook your head.

“Noooo,” You whined. “I’m still asleep.”

His chuckle rumbled against your back. “C’mon.”

Your husband’s hands made their way to your waist and squeezed gently. He flipped you around so you were facing him. You tangled your fingers in his long blonde hair and crashed your lips into his in hopes of dissuading him from leaving the bed. Before you could deepen the kiss anymore, he grabbed your hips tighter and pulled you back.

“Nice try, baby, but we’ve got work to do.”

“Or,” you walked your fingers up his chest. “We could lock the doors and spend the whole day-”

He cut you off with another kiss. Just when you thought you’d won, he sat up, giving you a devilish smirk. His hands latched onto the blankets.

You glowered. “Don’t you dare.”

“Hey, I gave you a chance,” he said, yanking the covers back and subjecting your bare skin to the cold morning air.

“Kayce!” You shrieked, clawing to regain the warmth, but he held them just out of reach, laughing at your demise. “Kayce John Dutton, I’m gonna kill you!”

“You’ve got to catch me first, darlin’.” He took off, taking the blankets and sheets with him.

“Navy SEAL or not, I’m still going to get you!” You shouted after him, grabbing his henley off the floor so you weren’t completely naked as you chased your childish husband around the room. Of course, he wasn’t wearing anything either which made the whole ordeal even more ridiculous.

When you did finally catch him, he’d stopped so suddenly and you were running so fast it knocked both of you to the floor, practically rolling with laughter.

“I… win…” You wheezed in between giggles, laying on top of him.

“Alright, alright.” He brushed your hair out of your face so he could kiss you, but just for a moment. “But we’ve still got to get to work.”

You bit your lip.

“What if I promise to make some time for us tonight, hmm?” He offered. “Dinner, movie, whatever you want.”

You sighed dramatically. “I suppose I can live with that.”

Kayce rolled his eyes, locked his arms around you, and stood. You squealed as he threw you over his shoulder, smacking your backside with a victorious chuckle.

Needless to say, you were definitely awake after that.

It was a long day. In a good way. One that felt like you were actually doing something. But still, every move you made ached from the day’s work. You helped out at the ranch because of your past in veterinary school. Sure, you hadn’t been in a clinic in years, but you knew your way around an injured horse enough that John liked having you around. He said it was because you didn’t cost as much. You were pretty sure he liked you more than he let on.

When you saw your husband riding up over the horizon, he didn’t look like he’d fared much better. Dirt caked his forehead, mixed with the sweat on his brow. Not that you minded.

“Hey baby,” he greeted gruffly. Kayce jumped down off his horse and gave you a quick kiss on the cheek. When he pulled away, you notice the downward cast of his gaze and the look of guilt in his eyes.

“Alright,” you sighed. “You’ve got that kicked puppy look now. What is it?”

A smile cracks on his face. “I do not look like a kicked puppy.”

“Sure you do.” You tucked a lock of blonde behind his ear. “With your big eyes and your pouty face.” You hooked your arms behind his neck and pulled him closer. “Are you ready for that date night we talked about?”

The puppy look returned.

“About that, baby,” He blew out a breath and ran his fingers through his hair.

Uh oh.

“You’ve gotta work,” you concluded.

“My dad’s asking me to run to Billing’s to take care of some things-”

You held up a hand to stop him. When it came to John Dutton, you didn’t want any details.

“It’s okay. We can make plans for a different night.” You pulled him into a kiss, smirking against his lips. “But you’ll definitely have to come up with something big and romantic and groveling.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, wrapping his arms around you. “You know I’d pick a night with you over anything, but I don’t think fighting him on this would be a good idea. It’s business and you know how he gets.”

“It’s fine, Kayce, really. I’m sure I’ll find something else to do.”

As if summoned, Ryan and Colby mosied over to the two of you. While Kayce wasn’t close with any of the boys from the bunkhouse, you’d gotten to know them from working on the horses. So even though Kayce tensed protectively, you gave them a bright grin.

“What do you two fuckers want?” You asked.

“We’re going out,” Colby said. “Celebrating Ryan’s birthday if you want to come.” He eyed your husband nervously. “Both of you.”

“We just saw you over here and thought, maybe you’d want to join, but it’s totally fine-” Ryan started to ramble.

You weren’t sure if it was their usual awkwardness or if the boss’s son just made them nervous, but you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Kace can’t, but I could use a night out,” you beamed.

Kayce’s arms tightened around you and his puppy-dog eyes turned intense.

Sensing the change, Ryan and Colby took a step back.

“Cool,” Ryan said. “Meet up in ten.”

The two hurried off and you turned to fierce brown eyes.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Kayce said.

“I wasn’t exactly asking for your permission, honey,” you scoffed. “Besides, like I said, I could use a night out. I can’t even remember the last time I really got away from the ranch for some fun.”

He turned away, jaw tensed, and eyes following the group of men heading back toward the bunkhouse.

“I don’t think any of the ranch hands are stupid enough to hit on me if that’s what you’re worried about,” you teased, trying to lighten his mood.

“It’s not that.” He shook his head, gaze returning to yours. “And it’s not that I don’t trust you, so don’t start thinking that. It’s just… the places these guys go to. Nothing good ever happens.”

“Baby, I think you’re the last person to worry about me getting into trouble. Or anybody, for that matter.”

It was true. You’d married a trouble magnet. Hell, maybe it’s even safer to go to the bar without him, but he definitely did not look in the mood for you to point that out.

“I won’t go if you really don’t want me to,” you said. “I’ll just sit at home…. All alone…. Bored.” You sighed dramatically.

Kayce huffed and kissed your forehead. “Just keep your phone on, okay?”

“Don’t worry. You will always be my phone call if I get arrested.” You gave him a mischievous grin and started off to join the others.

“That’s not funny!” He called after you, chuckling at your excitement and hoping that he wouldn’t regret this.

The neon lights bathed your skin in a blue and pink glow. Music blared from the band on the stage and your throat burned pleasantly from the liquor at your lips. You could feel the tension melting off of you from the long, hard day, realizing how much you needed this. It wasn’t that you didn’t like being at the ranch, but sometimes the vastness somehow felt so small. And knowing how much it hurt Kayce to be there, the nightmares you knew he’d had, made you wonder if it was worth it.

“You look like you could use another,” a voice said over the music.

“Hey, Rip.” You turned to face the dark-haired cowboy with a small smile. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Yeah, well,” he shrugged, “every once in a while I let them drag me out to these things.” He ordered himself another beer and you another whiskey. “Not used to seeing you without tall blonde trouble on your arm.”

“Looks like I’m causing enough trouble on my own tonight,” you smirked back. “He’s working.”

Rip nodded, running a hand over his chin. “And he let you come here?”

“He didn’t let me do anything.” You took a drink. “He wasn’t particularly happy about it, but he knows better than to try and tell me what to do.”

“If it were me,” Rip chuckled, “I would have locked you up at home. You’re too nice for a place like this.”

“You rough and tumble cowboys don’t scare me,” you smiled. “I married one, remember?”

“You married one of the good ones.”

“Cheers to that.” You clinked your glass against his and he smiled, still shaking his head as he walked to the other end of the bar to keep an eye on things.

His seat was not empty for long.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you ‘round here before.” A muscular arm dressed in a ratty old t-shirt blocked your view of the dance floor and the body attached to it loomed over you like you were a meal. It was a feeling that you were unfortunately familiar with, having grown up around bars like these and, more specifically, their patrons.

“That’s because I haven’t been here,” you said, keeping your voice calm, but cold. The red-haired man beside you did not get the hint. He leaned even closer and you could smell the mix of tobacco and too much beer on his breath as he swayed drunkenly in the seat.

“Well isn’t it my lucky day then?”

You held up your hand, flashing him the wedding ring on your finger.

“Not so much, buddy.” You downed the rest of your drink. “But I’m sure there’s plenty of single women dying to give you a handjob in the bathroom,” you snarked, signaling for the bartender to get you another.

“What if I want you?” He leered.

What started out as annoyance was turning into anger.

“Do I have to spell it out for you?” You stood up in order to get away from his ever-leaning frame. “I’m married, dipshit.”

The drunkard shrugged. “I don’t see anybody here?”

Oh but if Kayce were here…

You could handle yourself without him.

“Why don’t you just back off before that tiny dick of yours gets you into something your tinier brain can’t deal with.”

You turned to walk away.

He grabbed your wrist, twisting it back until it stung.

“What did you say to me you fucking bitch?”

When your fist collided with his chin, it was just the beginning.

Hands grabbed your arms, giving him a clear hit to your stomach which you took with a grunt. You yanked yourself free and found two more men encircling you. Apparently, this shitstain wasn’t alone and all of them were drunk enough to not care that you were half their size and a woman. So much for chivalry.

“Three men versus little old me,” you scoffed. “That hardly seems fair.”

But you weren’t alone either.

Ryan broke through the crowd first, punching the man to your right square between the eyes. Colby was next, fighting some others who’d joined in for the hell of it. You stayed focused on your original creep.

“By the time we’re done, you’re going to be begging me to fuck you into tomorrow,” he sneered.

You responded with another hit to his mouth, feeling a couple of teeth crack against your knuckles.

He swung. You dodged. He picked up a bottle and crashed it against your shoulder, still too drunk to actually aim. You stomped on his foot. He grabbed you by the hair.

Somewhere, a gun went off and everybody screamed.

Red-haired Romeo, however, didn’t seem to care.

By the time Rip had made it over to you, you were being thrown across the bar. You felt the sticky, slick surface slide past your leg before you collided with the back shelves, and dozens of bottles shattered into your back. Your head slammed into the counter as you fell to the whiskey-soaked floor.

Everything was black after that.

You got little bits, here and there, trying to force yourself awake, but never able to fight back the darkness.

Rip and Ryan carrying you with your arms over their shoulders, Rip cursing the whole way to the house.

“Her husband is going to have somebody’s hide and it sure as hell isn’t going to be mine.”

A flash of strawberry blonde and the smell of cigarette smoke.

Ryan’s worried eyes as Rip dragged him away.

It was until the alcohol-dipped rag touched your cuts that you were fully awake. You grimaced, the sharp sting shooting up your back. You gripped the arm of the couch, face down in a pillow.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” Beth snarked. “It’d be a shame to miss this fun.” She pulled a piece of glass out of your side and you clenched your jaw. “That looks like it hurts.”

“Is there still bourbon down here?” You asked.

She laughed, shaking her head. “That’s what got you into this mess, sweetheart. And when my brother makes a list tonight, I’m not putting myself on it.”

She plucked another shard. It seemed every muscle in your back spasmed with every move she made, taking out class and swiping at the blood pooling on your skin. Not to mention the pounding in your head, hair matted with gore. You were grateful it was her, though. At least she’d get it done quick, without any pitying or panic.

Meanwhile, outside was an almost as pitiful sight. Rip leaned against the barn, glaring down the other men who nursed their injuries. Ryan’s eye was already starting to swell and Colby rubbed his aching jaw. Even Lloyd looked worse for wear.

“You’re lucky I don’t fire every one of you,” Rip glowered.

“In our defense, we were trying to stop the fight,” Ryan said, but quickly regretted it.

Rip stepped toward him. “You want another black eye?”

All eyes, however, glanced behind Rip, a pair of headlights growing nearer and nearer.

“Oh shit,” Colby muttered. “I thought he was going to Billings.”

Rip ran a hand down his face, trying to contain his frustration. Could anything else go wrong?

“Apparently not.”

Kayce got out of the truck.

At first, he thought they’d cut the party short and came back to the ranch, but as he got closer, he saw the specks of blood on their shirts and the color of forming bruises.

“What the hell happened?”

Rip sighed. “What does it look like?”

Kayce’s burning gaze turned to him, the question going unsaid, but very much present in his eyes. Rip held up a hand, keeping his voice level to not poke the bear any further.

“She’s inside. Beth’s with her.”

Kayce didn’t waste any more time, dark eyes flashing as he whipped around, sprinting up to the house.

“Y/N!” He screamed. “Y/N!”

Beth rolled her eyes. “Do you want to wake up all of Montana? We’re in here.”

A door opened upstairs. John was awake.

“What’s going on?”

You buried your face in the pillow.

Oh. God.

Kayce stormed into the living room at the same time his father appeared in the loft.

“I’m sorry for getting blood on your couch,” you said, gritting your teeth as Beth cleaned another gaping cut. Your bare chest stuck to the leather uncomfortably as you shifted to get a look at your father-in-law, avoiding your husband in the doorway.

“Is she going to be okay?” John called down.

“She won’t be able to lie on her back for a while.” Beth looked up at your panicked husband with a smirk. “But hey, save a horse, ride a cowboy, right?”

“Beth,” you groaned.

Kayce’s expression darkened.

Beth placed the rag back in the bowl and stood. “That’s my cue.” She waved up at John. “Just another day in the Dutton house, daddy.”

John sighed, muttering as he went back down the hall. “I don’t want to know.”

Kayce was at your side in seconds, dark eyes widening at the sight of your bloodied back and bruised face. Guilt and worry took over his features. It was worse than he thought. There were still a few shards of glass stuck in your flesh and some of the cuts looked like they went pretty deep. Your shoulder was a web of scratches with a bloody point of impact in the middle. The back and side of your head were covered with that dreaded red, more glass stuck in your hair.

You tried to crack a smile.

“You should see the other guy.”

“Baby…” he breathed shakily, a trembling hand against your cheek. “What happened?” Before you could answer, another, angrier question boiled in his chest. “Who did this to you?”

“I don’t know.”

He opened his mouth, but you stopped him.

“I’m serious. I didn’t exactly ask for contact information when I was swinging at him.”

Kayce nodded, body rigid with rage as he picked up the rag and started tending to your wounds with a much gentler hand than his sister’s.

“So a man attacked you?” His voice was calm which made you even more nervous. He only sounded like that when he wanted to kill something. Or someone.

“Well, I wasn’t tossed over a bar by Montana Barbie,” you snarked.

Your humor hid your humiliation but only made his frustration worse. His hand tensed roughly against your skin. You bit your lip to keep from wincing.

“Sorry,” he muttered. Keeping his movements slow and soft, he got the rest of the glass out and cleaned up most of the blood, though some of the cuts would definitely need stitches.

“And technically, no,” you said. “I started the fight. He was just annoying.”

You tried to push yourself up, crying out at the pain in your shoulder. Kayce gently urged you back down, repositioning the pillow so you could look at him more comfortably.

“It doesn’t matter,” he growled. “Anybody who does this to you-”

“Have probably already been punished by Rip.” You used your strength to reach a hand to tuck his blonde hair behind his ear. “I’m okay, Kace.”

He motioned to the liquor store sliced into your back. “Not from where I’m sitting, sweetheart. You know, one of those bottles could have paralyzed you, or-or severed an artery. You would have bled out on a dirty bar floor and I wouldn’t have been able to do anything about it.”

His voice cracked and you finally let your cocky facade fall.

“I’m sorry, baby,” you cried. “But you can’t protect me forever. I can handle myself.”

“Tonight’s not real good proof of that,” he said, a small smile teasing his lips. “Only you could get into this much trouble going out for drinks.”

“Hypocrite.”

He started bandaging you up as best he could to get you ready to go to the hospital.

“I don’t need to go anywhere,” you protested as he helped you up.

“You just had your head smashed against I don’t want to know how many surfaces. Rip said you were out for a couple of hours, now we should have had you at the hospital sooner,” Kayce said. “I’m not messin’ around.”

Sure enough, when you did see the doctor, they confirmed that you had a concussion. A bad one. Enough to make them want to keep you overnight to observe, as well as stitch up your back. When they asked what happened, you told them you fell.

“You… fell…” The doctor eyed you, then looked at Kayce.

You grabbed the woman’s arm, directing her suspicious gaze back at you. The last thing Kayce needed was somebody getting the wrong idea and thinking this was his fault.

“Through a glass table, from which I might have died if my husband hadn’t come home early so you keep your focus on me, okay?” You snapped.

Kayce chuckled. “Easy, baby. We’re not being interrogated.”

“I’m responsible for what happened. I don’t want her thinking anything different,” you said. “Tonight was my fault.”

“No,” he sighed. “It wasn’t.”

He should have been there. He didn’t drink, so he would have been able to see those creeps coming a mile off. Better yet, he should have stayed home, stayed with you like he said he was going to. Then none of this wouldn’t have happened.

“Hey,” you said, taking his hand. “Don’t start.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

You gave him a knowing smile. “You don’t have to.”

He brought your hand up to his lips and held it for the rest of the night.

Three Weeks Later

The wind whistled around you and for the first time in almost a month, you felt like you could really breathe. Adjusting the reins in your hand, your golden-brown quarter horse turned, facing you back toward the ranch, miles, and miles of beautiful country all around you. In the distance, you saw a dark hat appear out of the stables and heard your name echo across the field.

You pet your horse's neck, laughing. “I think we’re in trouble.”

With the sunset overhead, you rode back, your husband’s disapproving frown becoming clearer and clearer.

“What the hell are you doing?” He asked. You dismounted and led your horse to the barn. “You just got cleared by the doctor. Are you trying to get another concussion?”

“I know how to ride a horse without falling off, baby.” You kissed him as you went by. “Besides, it’s therapeutic. See, I feel better already.”

Kayce watched you go by, eyes lingering on your back, imagining the angry red scabs and scratches that crisscrossed your skin. He thought about how you tried not to wince when he touched you or that you’d have to lean on him after standing, too dizzy to see straight.

He should have been there.

“Morning, Rip,” you said, seeing the mountain of a man in the other doorway. He tilted his hat at you in greeting, glancing over at your husband for a moment before carrying on by. Something you’d watched that morning clicked in your mind. “I actually wanted to talk to the two of you about something.”

Rip halted and turned around.

“I saw on the news this morning that they found the remains of three hikers in the park last night,” you said, suspicious eyes switching between the two of them. “Three men. You two wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

Kayce’s brows furrowed. Rip’s expression didn’t change. You put your hands on your hips and narrowed your eyes.

“Because I can fight my own fights. I don’t need either of you getting yourselves into trouble.” You shot your husband a look that said ‘especially you.’ It seemed like trouble was both of your middle names sometimes.

But he just shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, baby.” Kayce turned to the other cowboy. “Rip?”

A silence fell over the barn, heavy with tension and an unspoken truth.

“It’s the first I’m hearing of it,” Rip said, cool blue eyes watching you. “They probably poked a bear they shouldn’t have.” With that, he left the two of you, and Kayce couldn’t help but feel grateful. As much as he would have wanted to deal with them himself, he was glad those bastards got what they deserved.

You unstrapped the saddle and started to lift it off.

“I got it,” Kayce said, grabbing the heavy leather for you and the two of you finished putting everything away. But that heavy silence was still there.

Your hand slipped into his, tugging slightly to make him look at you.

“Kayce,” you started softly, those big brown eyes making you melt just like they always did, but in them, you could see the guilt he’d been carrying for the past three weeks. “What happened was not your fault. It just… happened.” You laid a hand on his cheek. “Even you can’t stop the world from happening. And you can’t stop some men from being drunk bastards who can’t throw a decent punch.”

His fingers traced the forming scars on your shoulder. “I can try,” he whispered.

You brought his gaze back to yours and pulled him in for a kiss that said everything you both needed it to. When you pulled away, you smiled teasingly.

“So enough of the puppy look.”

Kayce rolled his eyes. “Not this again.”

“I’m serious!” You giggled. “It’s time to, I don’t know, have a little fun again. I’m not going to break.”

Ever the fighter, he thought, bringing you in for another kiss.

You tugged on his hand again, leading him out of the barn. The first stars were making their appearance over the incredible landscape you called home.

“Besides,” you said, leading him back toward the house. “You still owe me a date night.”

Kayce chuckled, wrapping an arm around your waist with a smirk that matched your own.

“Yes ma’am.”

#kayce dutton x reader #yellowstone #kayce dutton #rip wheeler #yellowstone imagines #luke grimes #my blonde cowboy husband

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tinytennisskirt · 28 days

Note

You and Patrick leave the restaurant on your one month anniversary. You’re both standing outside his car, he says he loves you for the first time. You try to distract him with a bunch of kisses and what not but he notices and questions it. Why didn’t you say it back? He’s all like what are you doing? Do you love him back? or Is it just too early to tell? But you’ve already been dating for a month! You didn’t say it back.

Those Three Words

Summary: as above^ When patrick meets the pretty bartender, his bachelor days are over. reader and patrick quickly become friends, good friends. and after a tipsy confession and a perfect kiss, they start dating. it's new, it's weird, but it's so easy to be in love with you. not as easy to tell you, though. (it turns out more than okay, i promise)

warnings: mentions of drinking. kissing. mentions of sex. angst... hurt/comfort silliness. player pat! turned loverboy! such a good moment for him. also i changed one month to two, i hope you don't mind!

It was different with you. Patrick knew that. You were the girl who put the habits of a casual man to rest. You came into his life, or rather he came into yours ordering a Redbull and two shots of Jaeger from the bar you were working and you looked at him a little oddly, with a cute smile questioning why he didn’t just order a Jaeger bomb. He was out with Art, but his attention stayed on you for the rest of the night. He drank way too much, returning to the bar and asking you for drinks just as an excuse to talk to you more. He emptied his wallet.

Art had to drag him out and into a taxi, practically shoving him in while he talked about you like a wasted white girl. He woke up the next morning with a killer headache and surprisingly, most of his memories of you, though they were a little altered by the alcohol. He called Art, asking him about the night only to be filled in that he spent it flirting with you. So he was fucked, he deducted. No chance.

But a few nights later he and Art went back and surprise, you were working again. Patrick usually had it in his head that going out and drinking at bars was for finding women to go home with, but his eyes fell on you and he knew he had to say something. So he walked up the bar, eyeing you in your black t-shirt with a neckline that dipped enough for cleavage paired with your little black skirt. “You again,” you smiled, seeing him approach. Oh fuck, you were as pretty as he remembered. “Glad to see you alive and well.”

He grinned, sitting at the bar, hands folding in front of him. “Thanks.” He smirked a little.

“What can I get you?” You grinned. He ordered two drinks and to Art’s annoyance, struck up a conversation with you. You were funny and you were interesting and probably one of the most gorgeous women he’d ever spoken to. He tried not to overdrink again just to speak to you, but after helping every customer, you’d come back on your own. Patrick didn’t know what exactly it was about you because no matter the fact his eyes fell on your chest every now and then, he was genuinely hearing what you were saying about Depeche Mode. He just leaned toward you as you spoke and listened.

Art came up behind him later that night saying he was heading out and begrudgingly, Patrick went with him. You passed him the bill and he opened it to a napkin with your number. A win. A big win. He looked up and you were helping another customer, too busy to say anything to you about it. But he paid in cash and left a $30 tip on top of it. And he left a happy and tipsy man.

He waited until morning to text you.

'Hey. Patrick from the bar. How r u?’

You got back to him surprisingly quickly, 'Hungryyyy. You?' You were a perfect woman. He was a simple man.

‘About the same.’

You messaged back again, ‘Breakfast???’ followed by ‘You know the cafe off main? I’ll be there in 15’. You were asking him out? Or… to breakfast? Fuck, either way, he’d take it. He messaged back, said he’d be there, and bolted out of bed and into the shower. He let his hair air dry and slipped on jeans and a long-sleeved shirt for the chilliness of the morning and soon he was on the street walking there, trying to be on time. He met you on the corner. You knew it was bad when he met a girl and liked her when she was half-dressed only to look at her fully clothed and could say to himself he liked her more. That was you in your sweater and jeans, hair down, comfy and honestly kind of cute. At the bar you were hot, but here you were cute.

“Good morning,” you smiled at him. What was ‘other women’? What did those words even mean? “You bounce back so well after a night of drinking there’s no way I’d be out of bed at nine in the morning after so many shots.” You smiled. “Hi, Patrick.”

“Good morning,” he replied, hands in his pockets. “And hi,” He smirked a little as you lead him into the cafe wordlessly. You ordered a croissant and iced coffee and lead him to sit down with you. “So, you’re an early riser?”

“Sometimes. If I’m honest I wouldn’t be up this early, but my landlord is doing construction and it’s hectic and loud. I’m lucky if I sleep at all, it’s all hours.” You spoke to him like you’d known him forever. It was cute. You told him all about your apartment situation, how you’re pretty sure your landlord pervs on you and he just sat and listened, happily drinking his Americano.

And it started from there, the slow burn. You hadn’t said anything inherently romantic, but he was content with being your friend if it meant he got to be around you. You’d text a lot, becoming fast friends with similar tastes in music and movies. You were spontaneous and sometimes a little loud, but he really liked that about you. You’d hang out frequently, sometimes multiple days in a row. Sometimes his place and sometimes yours. You liked candy and going to thrift stores and you had a record collection. You’d give him free shots at the bar when you had shifts. He’d show up. Soon you were close to calling him your best friend and it was dawning on Patrick that when women hit on him, he was rejecting them. Supermodel-type women were coming up to him, flirting, and he was shutting them down. He knew he liked you and he knew it was different. It felt like having a crush, something he hadn’t felt since he was back at MRTA, a kid.

You ruffled his hair and his ears would go a little pink. He’d flirt with you just the same and sometimes you’d flirt back in good fun, but oh my god, he was head over heels for you. Only you. One singular woman who he had not slept with. He was devoted and completely in it. It was so out of character for him.

“She’s it,” he said to Art as he paced the living room, energy drink in hand. “She’s got me tangled in her web, there’s no out and for the first time in my life I don’t want one.”

Art watched his best friend, his eyebrows raised, decently pleased. “Should get your head checked.”

“I’m dead serious. I think about her when she’s not around, that’s some sort of sign.” Art did all he could not to laugh at the very normal things Patrick was talking about. “She says things and I remember them. For more than ten minutes.”

“Quick, what’s her name?”

“Okay, shut the fuck up, you’re no help,” Patrick groaned, flopping back into the armchair behind him. His finger spun the rim of the can he held. The expression on his face could only be described as a mixture of defeat and being plain old grumpy. He was grumpy over you. “I think I like her.”

Art grinned at Patrick’s confession, knowing the last time he heard Patrick say he liked anyone was back in ninth grade. “So tell her.”

“I might.” Patrick nodded. As different as things were with you, he would rather tell you than not. He didn’t like the idea that he had genuine feelings, but you were you, so it was fitting. And he had already made plans with you to meet up at a different bar later that night. One with more of a club-like vibe. So he figured it was as good a time as any to tell you- he wasn’t really well-versed in genuine feelings so maybe it wasn’t the best, but he had to tell you somehow.

He picked you up in his car, Art in the back seat. You and Art had been acquainted through Patrick, obviously, and you smiled, greeting them both. Patrick’s eyes fell on the length of your skirt, short. Your thighs were on full display, legs extending into tall boots that matched the colour of your t-shirt. You were hot, it was becoming a problem.

“How the fuck do I say anything when fifteen guys are hitting on her at once?” Patrick said to Art over the music. Art grabbed Patrick’s upper arm, chuckling.

He was a little out of it, buzzed off nicotine. “Kiss her.” He shrugged.

“I’m not kissing her,” Patrick replied. “I have to ask first.”

Art wasn’t so sure about Patrick’s genuine feelings but Patrick, two shots in, was saying he had to ask? Instead of just hitting on a girl and leaning in? Art believed him entirely now. “Fuck. I don’t know.”

“You’re good with girls!”

“So are you!”

“Other girls!” Patrick reasoned. “Ones that will go home with me if I buy them a drink. Not her. How the fuck am I supposed to do this? I just say it? How do you do this with every girl you like? It’s all this? All the time?” He was wigging out a little. It was something new for sure. He wasn’t used to any of this. You’d been friends for six months and you were over on the dancefloor, just a little tipsy, swaying, somewhat ignoring the men who were trying to talk to you, trying to dance with you. He figured there was nothing he could do but accept the fact he was twenty-something with full-on butterflies in his stomach. Art just chuckled and walked away to get Patrick another drink in case things went wrong.

He thought telling you would be easy, but every time he started toward you, he couldn’t follow through. He’d start overthinking his wording. He’d get interrupted by some other girl who he all but told to fuck off. He was stressing badly. And a new feeling crept up watching these guys come up to you in your short skirt and your low-cut t-shirt. It was something he also hadn’t felt in ages and it was just… jealousy. He was jealous, he was sick and completely riddled with it. A couple of guys who came and went grabbed your hips or your waist and his stomach did a genuine flip before the slight anger kicked in. He just stood, bitter, watching, unable to move. Moving meant telling you. Staying still meant you were free to be touched by other guys and this wasn’t easy at all.

You walked over, standing in front of him, a little displeased, “You asked me to come out and you’re standing there, glaring at me.” You sighed, arms folded over your chest. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he nodded, tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek, eyes elsewhere. And he only looked back at you when you started laughing. It was a pretty laugh that he often replayed in his head.

“Oh my god, you’re jealous!” You teased.

He got defensive, “Of what? Of who?”

“I don’t know, of the guys out there? You’re jealous they get to dance with me.”

“Why the fuck would I be jealous of them?” He chuckled, leaning back against the bar. “It’s not like it’s a rarity. You dance with everyone.”

“I think you really secretly want to dance with me,” you nodded, narrowing your eyes at him. You even went so far as to point a finger. Patrick just rolled his eyes. “Oh my god, you’re so jealous, you can’t even deny it anymore. C’mon gorgeous, we are dancing.” Your hand slipped into his as you pulled him into the crowd. For a guy that could pull any woman with just a simple lean toward them, he was more than surprised by the stunt you were pulling in pulling him closer. It was a little shameless, the way you were close to him. Closer than you’d danced with any of the previous guys- you’d been dodging them, no matter how much they got to touch without asking.

You made him a stiff. He’d be into it if it meant nothing, but it didn’t and it couldn’t. But that didn’t stop you. It couldn’t. You grinned at his closeness and frankly, he was a little flustered. Out of his character, so fucking far out of it. But he could get into it when you reached up, wrapping your arms around his neck, dancing much too closely for it to be nothing. It was like slow motion, something out of a movie, the pink and purple lights cascading over your body pressed to his. The bass of the song moving through his body, hands on your waist, kept there without being shoved off by you. Welcomed, really. You were so close he could have kissed you, but something in him told him not to. Not like this. Not here. Art was over at the bar, snapping a few pictures on his phone, laughing to himself as he shoved it into his pocket.

Patrick, completely consumed by the way you were looking at him, felt surprisingly cold when you spun out of his grasp, grinning. He let his hands fall, just a little dumbstruck by what the fuck that just was. It was quite possibly the hottest thing he’d ever experienced. You during the day was so different from you in night-life. You were mesmerizing, easy to watch as you spun back to him. “Feeling better?” You grinned. And you left him, going back to dancing alone. Patrick, god of arrogance and quips, was left speechless.

He walked back over to Art, mouth a little open. “What the fuck.”

“You tell her?”

“No,” Patrick was almost bitter in rebuttal. He sank into the bar stool and ordered another drink.

“I think she knows,” he grinned over at Patrick who downed the drink in one fell gulp.

“You think?” He paused for a moment and exhaled. “Fuck.”

The night died down. You were hungry and Art was pretty done with the place. Patrick carried your boots as you walked barefoot down the sidewalk back to the car, fries from the chip truck in hand. Patrick paid. He didn’t mind. You shared with both boys and Art drove back to Patrick’s apartment. He was going to crash at his, sleep in the living room. So were you, apparently. The three of you took the elevator up. Art said goodnight, jumping over the back of the couch and onto it. It was pretty much enough to ban you both to Patrick’s room.

Patrick dropped your boots by the door and went to his room as you finished your fries and went to go brush your teeth. He went through his clothes, grabbing you some loose t-shirt and shorts he knew wouldn’t be too big on you. He dropped them to you in the bathroom wordlessly and went to go sit on his bed with some water, trying to level out.

You emerged a few minutes later in his clothes, your skirt and t-shirt in a ball in your hand, tossed by your boots. “Thank you,” you smiled, sitting on the bed with him. “So, how are you feeling?” You asked, stealing a sip of his water.

“Decent,” he replied. “Didn’t drink enough, apparently.”

“Apparently not,” you smiled, handing the water back. He finished it and tossed the solo cup he’d used into the trash next to his bed. “So are we going to talk about it, or are we just going to bed?”

Patrick didn’t see that coming. He straightened out, his heart picking up just a little. “Hm?”

“Patrick…” you trailed off, leaning just a little bit forward. “You like me, hm?”

He didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t say no, but not confessing felt wrong. “Yeah, I like you. We’re friends.”

“Ooh, ouch,” you smiled. It was probably the most gorgeous smile he’d ever seen. “Friendzoned.”

Patrick smirked a little, “You’re still drunk.”

“Tipsy, baby. Tipsy.” You nodded. His eyes fell on your lips and the way his shirt slipped off your shoulder. “But you know what I mean, Pat. I think, and I have reason to believe you like me. Tell me I’m wrong?”

He chuckled to himself, looking at his hands, the door, you. He tsked, shaking his head. “I can’t.” He admitted. He said it. You had defeated the player in him.

“Thought so.” Your smile was a little bit evil. “So if I kissed you right now, what would you do?”

His smirk grew just a little bit bigger and he moved just a little bit closer to you and you moved just a little bit closer to him. The tension was thick. You watched his eyes meet yours, then your lips, back to your eyes. “Not sure. Just have to find out, I guess.”

“I guess,” you grinned, leaning in the rest of the way, meeting him in the middle. The quiet of his room was quieter and the kiss was slow and passionate. Patrick’s hand on the back of your neck, yours resting on his chest. He kissed you with no intention of anything more or anything less. He even kissed you without tongue- for the first few minutes, after that he figured it was game when you were both lying on your side, just kissing. It was perfect and it was the least hungry kiss he’d possibly ever had.

It was a good fifteen minutes of slow, yet passionate kisses and it tapered off with small kisses, something Patrick had never experienced before. You kissed him a few last times, short and sweet and it was possibly his favourite part of the whole thing. Next to the fact he kissed the pretty bartender he’d had feelings for since the night he met her. You held his face after, he was just a little breathless despite the calm of the kissing.

“Patrick.”

“Yeah?”

“I like you. I’ve liked you for a while.” You smiled.

“I think I caught that,” he grinned like an asshole. You’d never been more into him. You gently tapped his arm. All of this, the talking, the everything, was new. And perfect. “How long is ‘a while’?” You hit him a little harder and he just kept grinning. The words he said were so foreign. “I like you too.” You smiled wide, looking quite proud of yourself. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Make me,” you said. And you went back to kissing.

Patrick had no problem with saying you were his girlfriend. You’d decided that’s who you were when Patrick later found that you’d changed your name in his contacts to it. He told Art everything, talking about how he’d been missing out this entire time on kissing without sex. The feeling was new and exciting and Art clapped him on the back, trying not to laugh too much at the fact Patrick was a little crazy. But the craze died down.

Seeing you, kissing you, came so naturally to him it stopped being something of wonder, though he never really felt different about it. You were his first serious girlfriend in years. He was a pretty good boyfriend too. He was over all the time still, with the addition of being able to call you beautiful whenever he wanted to. He took a lot of pleasure in telling guys at the bar to fuck off when they tried to buy you drinks. He was a little possessive but in the hot way, not the controlling gross way. He liked that you wore short skirts when you went out, guys could look, they could try, but it was him who fucked you in the car before heading back home.

The sex was beyond good. Crazy good. But never the main focus. Patrick took a crazy liking to the fact you kissed his forehead and it was possibly the best feeling in the world when you fell asleep with your head on his chest. He was so serious about you. And he was more than head over heels for you.

It progressed pretty quickly due to the fact both you and Patrick had feelings for each other for a good while before properly dating. Look at Patrick, he was into you from the very day he met you.

“I think I’m going to order chinese,” you said from the kitchen. Patrick swung around the corner as you picked up the phone, looking over the menu. “The regular?” He nodded, enjoying his semi-domestic privileges, seeing you without makeup in his kitchen in his clothes. You hopped up on the counter and dialed the number as Patrick came to stand in front of you, hands resting on your hips. “Hi, I’d like to place an order for del-” Patrick, cheeky, kissed your neck, “- delivery.” You giggled a little nervously. You were so cute up on his counter he couldn’t not. “I’d like the four-piece…” You really tried getting through the order, pausing your order to kiss him quickly twice, trying to get him off you, but it didn’t quite work. “I’m sorry,” you said to the man on the other end of the line. “I want-” You couldn’t escape his kisses to your jaw. “Sorry-” You hung up the phone and Patrick picked you up off the counter and you hit the bed just moments later.

You had turned him into someone he didn’t know he could be. And it didn’t feel like he wasn’t himself. In fucking you, he had words at the tip of his tongue to melt into his string of praise for you, your body, the way you felt and those words were, ‘i love you’.

You were breathing hard, your head resting on his chest. “Couldn’t even let me order? I’m so hungry.” You sighed happily. Patrick was staring at the ceiling wondering how the fuck he loved you. That was a strong word. He’d only dated you for nearly two months. Your hand gently caressed his chest, his stomach, tracing patterns. No way he was in love with you so early on. But in reality, it wasn’t that early. He’d known you for eight months, liked you and only you for all of it, it made sense but the way it snuck up on him was crazy. So crazy he didn’t even tell Art about it. He just internalized it.

When two months rolled around, he scraped together a little more money than he really had on his budget and surprised you by taking you somewhere nice. It wasn’t a big anniversary, but for him, it was an achievement. Even Art was surprised, respectfully, that he’d made it so far.

“So the retrograde is one of the most dangerous times in a year because no matter who you are or what you’re doing, something is bound to change for you and it’s usually something drastic.” You said, eating your food. He was thinking one thing and those three words just echoed around his head. “Patrick?”

“Exes come back, no travel,” he nodded, showing you he was listening. You smiled and he was only thinking about how perfect you were.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked, stealing a fry off of his plate. Of course, at a nice place like this, Patrick still ordered a burger. “You’re all quiet. Not that I mind it.” You giggled just a little. He had the cutest girlfriend, he knew that. He had the cutest girlfriend and he was in love with her. You.

“I’ve never had a two-month anniversary before.” He admit, his elbows on the table. Your eyes widened just a little. He smirked just a bit. “No mocking.”

“Me? I would never,” you said, shooting him a sly grin. You let the slyness dissipate, eyes growing sweet and genuine. “I’m glad it's us.”

“Me too.” He nodded. For the first time in his life, he was sure of something and it was you. You were here with him and it was all still new, but god, it was great. He had a perfect, funny, sexy, gorgeous, and smart girlfriend and he didn’t even have to travel to a parallel universe to master commitment. Patrick being Patrick wouldn’t get too mushy on you, wouldn’t tell you that he found it a little surreal to be across from you in your black velvet dress. Across from a girl who he never really thought he would have or sleep next to. This girl who is literally always there, no matter what or which home he goes back to at the end of the day. You were his best friend. But he wouldn’t say any of that shit. The difference was that he felt it, not that he turned into a sap.

He was feeling a lot. He gladly paid for dinner. “Thank you. It was really really sweet for you to do this.” You said, slipping your hand into his. Your hand was smaller than his was and you were somehow always just a little bit colder than he was. The two of you headed out into the parking lot, where you leaned against his car, still holding his hand, even when he pulled out a cigarette. You were so gorgeous bathed in the neon purple of the restaurant sign. The bustle of busy streets nearby was white noise. He let you have the first drag, he always did. Your fingers stayed intertwined with his and you looked at him in a way he really hadn’t ever been looked at. He couldn’t believe he’d never committed to a girl when he looked at how things were with you. You were perfect, entirely, head to toe and inside and out. He couldn’t believe how much time he’d wasted meaninglessly when looking at one person just felt so right.

You blew the smoke in his face, a running joke about the first time you’d smoked together and he did it to you. You never let it go. Eternal payback, you called it. You giggled as he raised his eyebrows at you, taking the cigarette as you passed it to him. The silence, or near-silence was comfortable. It wasn’t traced with lust, it wasn’t dripping in alcohol, it couldn’t ever mean nothing, It couldn’t ever be nothing, even while being silence. “You’re pretty,” Patrick said unprovoked, inhaling and turning his head to blow the smoke into the breeze. It wasn’t entirely unprovoked. It was you.

“Stop it, I’m blushing.” You grinned back at him. Your thumb grazed back and forth on the back of the hand that you held tight. You pretended to tuck your hair behind your ear in a mock-nervous manner. “Truth is… I have a huge crush on you.”

“No way,” Patrick said, coughing just the slightest bit, smoke leaking out his lips. He smirked with that gorgeous, sly fox kind of grin, his dimple in full view. You pulled him into a kiss by the hand that you held, the taste of smoke on both of your lips, both of you smiling into it. Your hands only unlocked for his hand to slide around your waist and pull you close whilst your hand went to his jaw. Your back pressed to the door of his car. He swore he could never get sick of kissing you. Spontaneously, the way you liked. Sometimes to shut you up or to make you stop laughing so much. He pretended like you annoyed him, and kissed you to keep you quiet. Kissing you in his kitchen, on the couch, in front of the men who wanted you soooo badly. Intimate kissing, kissing with the intention of sex, or just a kiss to your temple or cheek in passing on the way out the door. He felt it almost overwhelmingly. Those three words were on the tip of the tongue that was currently slipping into your mouth.

You pulled him closer, that cigarette still burning in his opposite hand that he held away from you. He was never this kind of guy, he had never felt this way in his life. The kiss slowed just a little to your occasional few short and sweet kisses and he had the space to, so those words tipped off his tongue. “I love you.” He said. He didn’t plan it, but they fell out and into the space between you. He must have seemed like the biggest, most pathetic red flag in the world. But he said what he meant. He loved you. He’d never loved anyone. He’d never said that to anyone in a romantic context. He wasn’t sure of anything about this situation but he was sure he meant it.

Telling you put him into a limbo of vulnerability that he didn’t foresee. Your heart skips a beat. It’s so early on, there’s no way you heard him right. There’s no way he just said what he said, not tonight, not at two months. You weren’t prepared or ready or expecting it at all. Especially from him, who had sweet things to say but they were rare and usually perfectly imperfect. What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck? Panic spread into your chest, anxiety to follow. He said ‘I love you’, Patrick Zweig told you he loved you. Here. Now. And without thinking, you kiss him. It’s a stronger kiss, you’re kissing him as the emotions bubble up inside you, threatening to boil over. You’re hoping to drown out his words. Did he mean them? Did he mean them the way you would potentially want?

You kissed him again and again, over and over, tongue and everything, and the air is filled with only that. No words, only that. The cigarette slowly burned out on the ground, and both of your hands cupped his face, his jaw, keeping him close, keeping his mouth steadily on yours. You’re filling your mouth with him, no words, nothing else but kissing him hard. The pauses in between only for breaths, nothing more. You go to kiss him again, but his head moves backward, out of your reach, pulling back from you.

You stepped forward, chasing his lips, trying to kiss him again, but he moved backward. “What are you doing?” He asked, his voice laced with hurt. You’ve never heard him in this tone before. You tried to kiss him again, but he gently stopped your hands from having their leverage. “Hey- stop. What are you doing?” He repeated.

Your lower lip settled between your teeth. “I- I don’t know.” You replied, flustered. Your nose is pink and your eyes are apologetic. Patrick feels his chest tighten. He’s never felt that before in his life, it feels a bit like he can’t breathe. He can’t tell how your mind is racing over what to do, what to say. He can’t read you other than knowing you didn’t say it back.

“You don’t know?” His eyebrows are furrowed and his face is close to yours and your hands are resting flat on his chest. “Y/N.”

“I know.” You replied pressing a hand to your face. It’s too early. This was too early. This was so soon, you couldn’t know if you loved him yet, it was so soon. You’d be lying to say you loved him back and you just couldn’t do that to him or to yourself. His face was full of hurt, his heart was beating against his ribcage. He said it with a conviction, with a sureness that was hard for him to find. He couldn’t muster those words on the phone with his mom but he said them to you. Here. Now. “I’m sorry.”

His face was still close to yours. His big hands removed yours from your face, seeking some sort of answer that wasn’t an apology. How could he have said that and your response is to say, ‘I know, I’m sorry’? What the fuck was that? Did you love him? Could you?

“You didn’t say it back,” he said, keeping his voice clear and steady. He wants to say those three words again, but he won’t now. Part of him, another new, undiscovered piece of him is fucking terrified. “Y’know, that’s fine, it’s-” he pulls away from you entirely.

You step after him again, feeling the guilt knot in your chest, “No, Patrick- I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine, I want to go home, let's go home.” He says. He’s putting up that front of his. He had never felt physical pain from anything emotional in his life. Never. Not once. So the fact your lack of words felt like a winding punch to the chest was pretty fucking distressing. He wasn’t actually sure what the protocol was when a person said an unreciprocated ‘I love you’, he’d never been in this situation before. He just knew that it hurt. And this was probably why he’d never committed to anyone before. To avoid this. This pain in his chest that was so fucking stupid and pointless.

“Patrick,” you pleaded, practically chasing him as he walked around the car to the driver’s side. “Hey, stop-” He doesn’t. “Stop! Please. Patrick. Patrick.”

His voice was just a little harsh. “Yeah?” He opened the car door, turning to you.

You looked up at him, a little desperate to be heard over the hurt you knew he was feeling. The guilt of it was actively eating at you. “It was just so soon. I didn’t see it coming, it’s only been two months.”

“I know.” He replied, expression seeming cold, but surprisingly soft. “I’m sorry.”

“No, Patrick, stop. I can’t lie to you and say I’m there yet, but I want it more than anything. And I just need time.” You explained just a little frantically. “I’m not ready.”

He sighed, looking out over the parking lot. He shook his head and looked back at you. “I’ve never said that to anyone. I’ve never loved anyone. Not like this. I didn’t think I could. Or would. But it’s you, so I’m fucked, aren’t I? Spoke too soon, I guess.”

“No, Patrick, it was perfect. God, I hate that I can’t say it back yet. Key word is ‘yet’, because I absolutely adore you and I care about you so much, there’s nobody on this earth that I want to love more, but it’s so early on. I guess I’m scared. What if you don’t mean it?”

“I love you.”

“What if you stop meaning it?”

“I love you.”

“What if we are rushing into this?”

“I’ve liked you since you first smiled at me, you drove me crazy, Art said I needed my head checked. You with your stupid low-cut shirt and you smiling at me and I was done. No more girls, no more numbers in my phone, just you. You and your astrology bullshit, you and your collection of sweaters, and your perving landlord. You. I’ve never felt like this ever, I’ve never been more sure of anything because nothing has ever scared me this much in my entire life. I mean it, I’ll continue to mean it if you let me, and I know I’m not rushing into anything because however long you think I’ve liked you, it’s so much fucking longer.” He stated. He sounded angry, but he really wasn’t. He had never had that many words, let alone words he fully and wholeheartedly and somehow poetically meant. This was how he knew you were different. You’d killed a bachelor. A good one. One who had been at it for years.

You smiled like you were relieved. It was a sweet smile, like the one that you’d sported when he first ordered a drink from you. “You mean all of that?”

“Don’t make me say it again, please,” he chuckled just a little, crooked smile coming back. “Yes, I mean it. It freaked me out, I feel like I’ve been possessed by the spirit of the guy who sings Careless Whisper, but it’s all me.” Your smile grew wider. He bat you off, shaking his head again. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything,” you smiled. “Patrick… I am going to love you. I am actively falling in love with you, it’s terrifying, but it’s thrilling and I don’t want to stop. I just need a little more time.”

He nodded, looking down at his feet. You stepped closer, cupping his face. One of the many intimacies he’d never known until you. Soft hands on his face. “I didn’t know I had so many emotions I feel like…”

“Don’t joke.” You said. He honestly couldn’t anyway, looking at you. His smile fell to something neutral, eyes looking over your face, your perfect features. Whether you loved him back yet or not, he was lucky to have you.

“Don’t take too long,” He said solemnly, meeting your eyes. But the expression only lasted a few seconds before his arrogant little smirk crept back up. “If you don’t say it back in time I’m going to turn into a girl.”

You laughed, “Oh please.”

“It’s true.” He nodded. “Very serious thing that happens.”

“Patrick.”

“Yeah?”

“You remember when I started giving you free shots? Earlier that night, you were over at mine and you were eating Skittles and you ate all of the ones I don’t like out of the bag. And it kind of hit me that you were…that I liked you. A lot. It’s so much worse than yours. But it was then on. That’s ‘a while’.”

He grinned at your callback, laughing at how stupid that was. He grimaced just a little, smile unchanging. “Skittles?”

“Skittles.” You replied, nodding. He pushed your hair behind your ears and pulled you into another kiss. One that wasn’t trying to drown anything out. Gentle hands in a gentle, perfect, feeling-filled kiss. Patrick truly didn’t know he had so many things to feel. And it was all for you. He’d been getting used to this sort of thing. It might have been the best thing to ever happen to him. He wasn’t changed in any way that truly mattered, but when it came to you, he was completely turned off to the idea of having it any other way. You kissed him back and he felt like he finally had done something right, which was lacking for him in all areas of his life.

“I feel myself turning-” you kissed him again. “-into a girl.”

“We’ll go bra shopping,” you said, kissing him again.

“That would make you-” you kissed him once more. “-bisexual.”

“Then we’re truly a match made in heaven.” You teased. He kissed you hard one more time for good measure before really getting into the car and driving home. He knew you’d come around sometime. Didn’t stop him from feeling the way he did at all.

It was just an odd Tuesday two months later, Patrick had the laundry basket in his hands, holding the door for you as you grabbed your keys and your wallet. He was going to the laundromat, you were going to work. “You’ll come visit me later?” You asked, heading out the door.

“Yeah, around eight.” He nodded, leaning in and kissing you goodbye. “Mmm- Bye.”

“Bye, Patrick. I love you.” You smiled as you walked ahead to press the elevator button for him, hopping down the stairs. You were gone in a flash, leaving him where he was, grinning what was probably the widest he’d ever smiled. He shook his head, laughing quietly to himself as he got in the elevator. He’d see you at eight.

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#challengers #patrick zweig #challengers x reader #tinytennisskirt #patrick zweig angst #patrick zweig hurt/comfort #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig smut #patrick zweig fluff #challengers fic #patrick zweig fic

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artdcnaldson · 2 months

Note

thinking about pre engagement art at his first olympics. you’re doing coverage for a mag back home on some player from your hometown. but art. beautiful fucking art who you run into the morning of your first day and who you convince to come to your hotel so he can get away from the rickety little twin beds at the village. butter him up with a drink. only one, won’t hurt his game. you talk and talk you god you wish your story could be about him instead. and he stays the night in the hotel with you and is gone when you wake up but he’s left an official statement on his wonderful teammate, hometown guy, for your story that will make your boss happy. when you get home after your story star gets knocked in the round of 16 there’s flowers and your hotel has been paid off until the final. he wants to go to dinner after he wins gold and take polaroids of you w nothing but his medal on.

if u have room for 🫐 anon, i will keep homeostasis w my zweiginator emoji anon

Omg hi sorry I sat on this so long <333 RAHHHH pre engagement pretty angel curls art playing tennis at the Olympics makes me feel SO CRAZY

EEEEEP using your press pass to get access to all of his matches, even though you really should get home. Art’s dominating the court— effortless and beautiful. You’re there when he wins the gold medal match against an older, seasoned player, and he’s so gracious to the player’s face, to the press.

“It was a tough match,” he says into a microphone as you stand close by, thankful for the press badge around your neck. “I’m just lucky to get the chance to play with one of the greats.”

He smiles, charming and victorious when they take photos of him with his medal. The American flag in the background and him, the spitting image of homegrown, good old fashioned athletic talent.

The dinner is nice, fancier than you’re used to on a journalist’s budget. He’s just got a new sponsorship with Nike, so they pay for a lot. He buys a nice bottle of wine and bashfully admits he doesn’t know a lot about what makes it nice, other than the price tag. It’s charming, it’s sweet.

Sitting across from him at the table, you know he’s got less than innocent intentions for the night. Just three days ago, he had you sinking down on his cock, riding him hard and fast and crying out his name like it was a form of worship.

“Do you want to see the medal?” He asks once you’ve finished dessert.

You forget the question by the time you’re in his room in the Olympic village, when he’s mouth is on yours and his hands are ripping at your clothes. The bed is soft, plush beneath you as he drops you onto it, laid bare and wanting. You part your legs invitingly, wordlessly begging for him to strip off the rest of his clothes and bury himself inside of you.

You’d even let him do it raw— a present for his gold medal win.

But he disappears, digging in his suitcase until he retrieves the medal from within. Orange and red ribbon and a big gold medal at the center. Before you can say anything, he’s slipped it around your neck, so the gold is nestled between your breasts.

“Pretty,” he muses, fingers circling the cold medal where it rests. “Can I take a picture?”

“Yeah,” you answer quickly. He could’ve suggested anything, really, and you would’ve said yes. He was just so beautiful, so charming. You wanted to please him more than anything.

He pulls out a digital camera and powers it on. It whirrs softly as he zooms in, then snaps a photo of the medal resting between your tits. “Pose for me,” he says, but he has another idea already. His hands move up, sliding from your hip, up your abdomen, until it cups your breast in one large palm. He snaps another photo, smiling behind the camera.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he muses. He nudges your thighs apart and toys with your clit, just on the good side of teasing. Slow, insistent circles that make you grow even wetter, even needier. He zooms out, takes a full body shot (because he’ll die before he forgets this pussy) and tosses the camera to the side.

He hikes your legs over his shoulders and buries his face between your thighs— mouthing hungrily at your cunt. His tongue laves over your center, lapping at the wetness that had been steadily leaking from your cunt since dinner. He moans against you, as he nuzzles his nose against your clit to get closer and closer. “Taste so good—“ his words are mostly muffled against you, as he licks and sucks on your pussy, face shiny with slick and spit.

You cum easily, your body responding to his touches so openly. Like it’s his toy to use. He smiles up at you as you pant and tremble, cunt fluttering with aftershocks. He kisses your thigh gently, reverently.

It’s not long before he’s sinking into you. Your pussy so soft and warm and wet for him, sucking him in, aching for something to fill that empty spot inside. You whine and gasp as he nudges against your cervix, buried deep, finding home there.

“That’s it,” he hums as you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist. “Pull me in deeper. Just like that.”

His pace is slow, his thrusts deep. You feel so close to him as he boxes you in, arms on either side of your head, fucking you like he’s making love. When he leans down and kisses you, it feels like heaven, which seems appropriate for a boy who looks like an angel.

#🫐 anon #Art Donaldson x reader

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ammoniteblue · 2 months

Text

Not a Hero, Just an Author (p.2)

kenji sato x reader

Her latest novel a flop, Y/N is starting to worry she wasn’t meant to be an author. She’s 24, lives alone and most of her college friends are either married or in more traditional jobs. she feels like she’s being left behind. That is until a charming baseball player finds his way into her life and shows Y/N that it takes more than talent to be a star.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

At first the baseball card was left on your bedside table. But as you realised that night, after getting back from Mr. Ozami’s Ramen Shop, you couldn’t sleep with it so close to you. If you opened an eye you’d see it, sitting there atop the table. Then all thoughts of sleep evaded you. It was almost impossible not replay the events of the night over and over in you mind.

Kenji. His easy grin. The way his jacket hung just right off his shoulders.

so like any coward, you hid it. Pushed into a drawer crammed full of notebooks and stray pieces of paper. You left it there in your office, hidden within your desk and finally managed to sleep.

For two days the card sat in that drawer, hidden, out of sight out of mind.

Why an ordinary schmuck like you wasn’t jumping at the chance to call a legendary athlete like Kenji Sato you would never know. A million girls would kill to have his number and yet you….you couldn’t even bare to look at it.

But why ?

For those two days you did nothing but watch old reruns of his games. Ones of him in America, playing for the LA Dodgers, all dressed up in white and blue. He wore that same easy going smirk when he played too. Like he knew no matter what that he’d win.

Something in your keened for that kind of confidence. Most people would be jealous of Kenji for his wealth, his fame….his good looks. Not you. what you wanted was his confidence. how, when millions of people were watching him, did he look so carefree ?

Kenji was right. Maybe he’d just make a baseball fan out of you yet. When watching his reruns got boring you changed to interviews. They were always solo, usually him and some pretty female reporter.

A nasty green feeling curled up in your stomach as you watched the way he chuckled and smiled, tilting his head in an easy but flirty manner.

Arrogant asshole. Stupidly hot arrogant asshole.

On the second night your older sister called. she never rang your phone, always the landline. nobody ever used it and most of the time you forgot it was there until Ami rang for your weekly catch up.

She didn’t live far, only thirty minutes on the metro, but with her full time job as a reporter and status as a single mum she was usually busy. Of course you went over to help whenever you could, but lately you’d been avoiding her and therefore Chiho too.

You couldn’t admit to your powerhouse big sister, who had it all, that your book had been a flop. that you and Sana were desperately trying to secure a movie or tv show deal in hopes of recuperating your losses.

Yes a show or movie would put you on the map, give you the status of a serious author, but it would also mean some hollywood exec tearing your baby apart and turning it into some dark, sexy CW series.

Your heartwarming story of a boy’s struggles through adulthood, as he comes to terms with his new powers and what they mean, made into the next Riverdale. You’d rather die.

Oh the shame.

“Y/N you need to call back mum, she’s worried about you.” Immediately Ami is hounding you over the phone.

with a sigh you respond, “yes Ami, it’s nice to hear from you too.”

“we’re just worried about you. lately you’ve been so distant. we miss you. Chiho misses you, she keeps asking where her auntie is.” Her words cut straight to your heart.

A pang of guilt hits your stomach as you imagine Chiho’s sad wide eyes asking where you are. That was a dirty move on Ami’s side.

“Things are just…” you scramble for an excuse, “busy. yeah i’ve got some book stuff and…..and there’s this guy.”

wait what ? why the fuck did you say that ?

“a guy ?” your sister asked.

oh shit well no going back now.

“um yeah a guy. he’s nice ?” you almost sounded questioning.

there was a pause before Ami made a sound of excitement.

“That’s amazing Y/N ! i’m so happy for you. you’ve got to bring him over, mum would love to meet him. we all would.”

you knew that was code for “as your big sis i need to vet this guy and make sure he’s good enough for you”.

two minutes later and you found yourself promising to bring this mystery guy over soon along with returning your mums anxious calls.

“we love you Y/N, please don’t forget that.”

After she hung up you sat there for a minute. It was dark out and if not for the light from the TV the living room would’ve been submerged in complete darkness. Another interview was playing, an old one. Kenji couldn’t have been older than 20. A college graduate recruited to play baseball full time. He looked so happy, the kind of energy only young people have. when they’re still full of hope, before the world has smashed it into pieces.

once upon a time you looked like that. maybe in those weeks just after your first book deal. fresh out of university and the promise of bright career in writing.

As you watched him, you replayed the conversation with your sister over in your head. she’d sounded so worried. they both did, her and mum. something had to change. you needed to do something, anything to fix this funk you’d fallen into.

maybe that’s why you walked out of the living room and into your study.

The desk drawer slid open easily and inside the baseball card gleamed up at you. You reached in, picked it up and then grabbed your phone from your back pocket.

Ten digits later, your phone rang and after several seconds of intense silence there was a voice.

“Hey Kenji speaking.” It was him, really him. “umm hello ? if this is that guy from the gossip magazine then please f-“

“It’s the girl from the ramen shop, Mr. Ozami’s.” You quickly interrupt.

Kenji goes silent, the threat dying on his tongue.

“Oh.” Is all he says.

“Yeah.” you mumble in response.

Theres another awkward silence.

“So…” He starts

“So…” You repeat.

For an international heartthrob, Kenji Sato is surprinsgly not that smooth. Just like you he’s unsure of what to say, and for the first time the baseball icon seems a little human to you. it’s what gives you the confidence to speak first.

“I watched some of your games.” You try, unable to fight the heat rushing to your cheeks.

was that weird ? was admitting you’d watched him play weird ?

There’s a laugh over the phone that puts all your worries to rest.

“Really ? i thought you said you didn’t like baseball ?” He asks, amused.

“Oh i still don’t, but i wanted to see what all the fuss was about.” You respond boldly, almost flirty.

“And ?” He prompts.

from over the phone you can hear the smirk in his voice.

“And i thought you were pretty good.” You can’t help the smile that pulls at your mouth as he makes an unbecoming noise.

“pretty good ? i think you mean the best babe.”

oh. OH.

Suddenly the pyjamas you’re wearing felt too tight, too hot. you slipped off the couch and padded over to a window, opening it to let in a fresh night breeze.

“I-I mean,” you try to school your voice, “sure you’re good but the best ? that might be a stretch.”

Oh good lord why did you say that ? Why was your go to defence insults ?

“Well if you need some proof why don’t you come to a game ?” His proposition catches you completely off guard.

“a game ?” you’d never been to a baseball game.

how much were the tickets ? You weren’t exactly very liquid right now. yes the advance on your latest book had been quite a lot but with it not hitting its sale targets you’d had to make a few setbacks. no excessive shopping, no eating out - Mr. Ozami’s was an exception - no travelling. A baseball game sounded expensive. could you afford the tickets ?

“Yeah, i’ll send you a ticket,” and then cockily adds, “don’t worry i’ll make sure you have a good view.”

You breath out a small laugh. It was a tempting offer. A free ticket, the chance to experience something new and watch cute men run around a field in tight pants. What was not to like. Maybe this was what you needed to get you out of that funk.

“Okay,” you found yourself responding, “that would be nice. thank you.”

there’s a chuckle over the phone and like that you figure the call is coming to an end until Kenji adds:

“But on one condition.”

So close.

“What’s that ?” You try to sound normal.

“You let me take you out.”

three days later

The new Tokyo Stadium was a magnificent piece of architecture. it had only opened a few months ago but you’d yet to see it. with a book tour and signings and fan events you hadn’t had the time to walk around the city like you used to.

Dressed up in your nicest pair of jeans and a Giants jersey you’d bought just for this game, you joined the back of one of the ticket booth queues.

Kenji had sent you an E-ticket right after your call. since then whenever you went onto your phone you’d checked to see if it was still there. the sight of it was a confirmation that this was real. the Kenji Sato had not only given you his number, invited you to a game but had asked you out on a date. you turning up to this was basically confirmation that yes you wanted to go.

A date with Kenji Sato.

What was happening to your life.

Since that night you’d itched to call your sister, to tell her what was going on. But you couldn’t. Ami was so practical, she followed her head over her heart. if she found out she would tell you to drop it. that Kenji Sato was a known flirt who was scared of commitment and would leave you high and dry. He wasn’t the dating type. Not at least according to the hundreds of magazines and articles you’d spent the last few days reading.

it was all there. his long, slightly hazardous, dating history. models and musicians. beautiful women with no body fat and immaculate skin. the kinds of girls that you see online or in magazines. you couldn’t be further from them.

What on earth did Kenji Sato see in you ? A small time author with a minor online following and, according to one very cruel article in the Tokyo Post, a dying career.

Ami would tell you to quit while you’re ahead, before you’ve gone on a date with this guy and inevitably let him charm you into submission.

But Ami wasn’t here and you were in too deep now.

The lady at the ticket booth scanned your ticket and then you were in. it was unlike anything you’d ever seen. The stadium rippled with noise. hundreds of thousands of fans filled it, filing into seats, calling out for hot dogs and beers from the uriko girls.

like you many people wore Giants jerseys. Children and women and men. some had orange face paint strewn across their cheeks.

suddenly you felt less self conscious about the jersey you were wearing. nobody would glance at you and think you’d never been to a game before let alone not know a thing about the sport or rules.

it took you a while to find your seat. you walked further and further into the stadium, eyes scanning the rows for the letter A. it wasn’t till you were right at the front that you found it. to your surprise, your seat was just above the dugout, giving you a clear view of the home plate.

not only had Kenji Sato bought you a ticket, he’d bought you maybe one of the best seats in the whole place.

There was a buzz in your back pocket. you reached for your phone.

enjoy the show

Kenji.

As you stated at the message, biting back a grin, a sudden chorus of cheers shook the stadium. around you people had jumped to their feet, hoisting posters and foam fingers high into the air. the people next to you, a little girl and her mum, were jumping up and down in excitement. the little girl held a poster in her hands and with one quick glance you realised it was of Kenji.

You turned to look at the field and suddenly it made sense. There waltzing up to the home plate was the man himself.

Kenji Sato.

His white jersey gleamed in the midday sun. the number seven printed on the back in big block lettering. a baseball bat hung almost carelessly in his left hand. you were sure that under that helmet he was wearing the most obnoxious grin possible.

The Kenji Sato show was live.

As he strolled up to the home plate, he turned to wave at the crowds. what a showboater. it worked though. another round of cheers rippled through the crowds, so loud it almost made you wince. the little girl was nearly crying with excitement next to you.

You cheered along too, a little unsure of yourself. it wasn’t like you’d ever done this before. Then to your absolute horror, Kenji Sato glanced across the crowd until he locked eyes with you.

Had he been looking for you ?

He must have, because as soon as he saw you his grin grew even bigger. a look of absolute smugness. He gave you a once over, something unmistakable flashing across his face as he saw the jersey you were wearing. it had been a coincidence, you picking out the number seven jersey. Until now you hadn’t realised it was his jersey. did he think you’d done it on purpose ?

Oh my god he did.

There was a self assured smirk on his face as he gave you one last look before turning to batter up. An almost unnatural silence fell over the stadium. everyone waited with baited breath, about to witness for the first time Kenji Sato batting in the Japanese League.

The pitcher swung his arm back and the ball sailed through the air.

To your surprise and everybody else’s Kenji missed. The ball went square into the catcher’s mitt. You’d watched enough of his games to know Kenji rarely missed a ball. maybe it was nerves ? His first game on a new team, in a new country. anyone would be nervous. But then he missed the second time and from your seat you could catch the way his hand flew to his shoulder, as if in pain.

Then the catcher said something, what exactly you couldn’t hear. But judging by Kenji’s reaction it wasn’t anything good. You watched with wide eyes as the batter levelled up to the catcher, his bat almost held like a weapon. The pair were almost chest to chest until the umpire stepped in. there was a final heated exchange before Kenji returned to bat. Then to everyone’s surprise he swapped sides, changing to his right hand to bat.

A series of quiet murmurs, sceptical and surpised words, rippled through the crowds. Did this not happen often ? You weren’t entirely sure what was going on. But judging by the confused looks around you Kenji was about to do something unprecedented in baseball.

All you could do was watch as the pitcher made his final throw. the ball flew through the air. the silence had never been thicker, and then with a speed so intense you nearly missed it, Kenji swung the bat back. there was contact. an almost cracking sound and the ball was sent soaring into the opposite direction.

the crowd roared with approval. the noise shook the stadium and to your surprise you found yourself up on your feet cheering along with them.

“Go Kenji !” You cried, almost jumping up and down as he ran each base.

A victorious grin had broken out on his face, and as he returned to home base he glanced up at you. Suddenly you felt self conscious stood there, hands in the air your cheeks flushed. But then he winked at you and something electric and light and fluttering soared through your chest.

He was incredible.

And then the Kaiju appeared.

is she the queen of cliffhangers or what ?? stay tuned for part three !! also if people are confused about why the reader seems to contradict herself a lot it’s meant to show how she’s an unreliable narrator, and like can’t see that she’s doing better than she thinks.

#ken sato x reader #ken sato #kenji sato x reader #kenji x reader #kenji sato #ultraman rising #ultraman

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shitsndgiggs · 1 month

Note

Hello! could you maybe do some fluff where reader and Pau is gonna babysit readers sisters kid for the day where the maybe go too the park or maybe train some football in the garden just pure fluff!

take care and take your time xoxo<3

BABYSITTING - PAU CUBARSÍ

Babysitting with Pau

Pau Cubarsí x fem! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

It was a beautiful, sunny Saturday, and Pau and I had agreed to babysit my sister’s little boy, Lucas, for the day. He was an energetic three-year-old with a love for football and an endless supply of curiosity.

Pau had been excited when I told him about our babysitting plans—he adored kids, and this was a chance to spend some quality time with Lucas.

We picked Lucas up in the morning, and from the moment we buckled him into the car seat, he was bubbling with excitement. “Where are we going?” Lucas asked, his big eyes shining with anticipation.

Pau turned around from the front seat, grinning. “We’re going to the park, little man. You ready to kick the ball around?”

Lucas nodded enthusiastically, his tiny feet kicking the air in excitement. “Yes! I want to play football like you, Pau!”

I smiled at their interaction, feeling my heart warm. Pau had a natural way with Lucas, and it was clear that the little guy looked up to him.

We arrived at the park, and Lucas practically jumped out of the car, dragging his little football with him.

“Alright, Lucas,” Pau said, picking up the ball. “Let’s see what you’ve got!”

We spent the next couple of hours running around the park.

Pau and I took turns chasing Lucas, who giggled uncontrollably every time Pau let him win a little dribble battle.

We played tag, pushed Lucas on the swings, and even tried to fly a kite, though it mostly ended up tangled in a tree. The park echoed with laughter, and Lucas’s joy was infectious.

After a while, we decided to head back home, all three of us slightly worn out but still in high spirits.

Once we got home, Lucas was still brimming with energy, so we continued playing in the garden.

Pau showed him some simple football tricks, and Lucas did his best to imitate him, stumbling adorably over the ball.

“You’re doing great, champ!” Pau encouraged, giving him a high-five every time he managed a kick.

Lucas beamed up at him, clearly thrilled by the attention. “I’m gonna be a football star, just like you!”

Pau laughed, ruffling his hair. “You’re already on your way, little man.”

As the day wore on, Lucas started to wind down. His energy was fading, and his blinks were getting slower and longer.

I suggested it was time for a story before bed. Pau volunteered to read, and Lucas eagerly agreed, grabbing his favorite book from the shelf.

They settled on the couch, Lucas snuggled against Pau’s side with the book in his lap. I watched from the doorway as Pau’s deep voice softly narrated the story.

Lucas’s eyes began to droop, his little body relaxing more and more against Pau with each word.

By the time Pau finished the story, Lucas was fast asleep, his tiny head resting on Pau’s shoulder.

Pau didn’t seem to notice right away, his fingers gently brushing through Lucas’s hair as he closed the book.

The sight was almost too precious—Pau, looking so protective and calm, with Lucas tucked against him like he belonged there.

I tiptoed closer, smiling softly at the heartwarming scene in front of me. Pau glanced up at me, his expression full of warmth. “I think someone’s all tuckered out,” he whispered.

“You both look pretty comfortable,” I whispered back, noticing the way Pau’s eyelids were starting to droop as well.

He chuckled quietly, trying not to wake Lucas. “Yeah, I guess we wore each other out.”

I grabbed a nearby blanket and gently draped it over both of them. “You’re a natural, you know that?”

Pau smiled sleepily, his eyes soft as he looked down at Lucas. “He’s a good kid. And… I don’t know, it just feels right.”

I leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead. “It looks right, too.”

I quietly turned off the lights in the living room, leaving just a small lamp on. The room was filled with a peaceful quiet as I settled into the armchair, watching them both sleep.

Pau’s arm was wrapped protectively around Lucas, and the little boy’s face was peaceful, a small smile playing on his lips even in sleep.

In that moment, everything felt perfect.

Seeing Pau with Lucas made me realize just how lucky I was to have him—a man who was not only amazing with kids but who made everything feel so easy, so right.

As I sat there, the soft sounds of their breathing filling the room, I knew this was a memory I’d treasure forever.

#football imagine #football x reader #pau cubarsi x reader #pau cubarsi

84 notes · View notes

whyse7vn · 10 months

Text

MOVING OUT -

[ot7 x reader]

BFFS 😁💜

8 participants - 8 online

———————————

jk: #NEWYEARNEWHOME

#NEWME 🙌🏼

hobi: don’t want to know don’t care shut up

jin: what now

jimin: sighs

tae: AWOMAN 🙌🏼🙌🏼🙌🏼🙌🏼

yooongi: …

jk: #newbeginings 🙏🏼

namjoon: ??

jk: i’m moving out guys 😆

like living on my own

i am

no joke

real life

living with y/n era OVER

hobi: attention seeker

jin: idk if you can even survive on ur own

y/n: he’s being stupid

ignore him pls

jk: house warming party soon guys!!!!

everyone invited unless ur name starts with a j

yoongi: your name starts with a j

jk: everyone invited unless ur surname starts with a j

yoongi: are you stupid

jin: is this about y/ns new bf lmao

y/n: i brought jaehyun over ONCE and now kooks spiralling

jk: idk who is jaehyun sorry idk who that is or what ur talking about sorry idk a thing

namjoon: sighs

yoongi: lowkey valid

y/n: ????????

yoongi: i mean if we were living together and you brought a rat back home i would loose my mind a bit

y/n: namjoon

namjoon: yoongi

yoongi: just saying

jimin: LMAOOO

y/n: not funny

jimin: just a little bit

tae: i heard jaehyun a world famous cheater

y/n: guys

hobi: look you made her upset

jk: y/ns upset?

jin: yikes

jimin: it’s not even my fault

yoongi just makes me giggle some times

yoongi: 🫰🏼

tae: i’ll hold you bbg sshhh don’t cry

namjoon: ew

y/n: i really really like him ok

so if you all could actually maybe just give him a chance and not be assholes for once i would really appreciate it

hobi: ofc pretty <3

jimin: ok but do you love him

namjoon: jimin

jimin: WHAT sorry i really need to know

jk: DONT ANSWER THAT

jin: woah

jk: i mean you don’t have to answer that haha

i’m still moving out btw

tae: i think you should give up i don’t think she’s gonna tell you to stay

omg like a dog

stay

i wish someone would tell me to stay

“stay 😡”

ok bae i’ll stay

am i ur good boy?

tell me i am

look at me

i stayed here

waiting for you

tell me i’m your good boy tell me please

hobi: bro

tae: sorry got lost in the source

namjoon: you mean the sauce?

tae: yesss mayo!!

@y/n tell me to say

y/n: absolutely not

i can tell you to kys tho

tae: Keep Yourself here and Stay

a win for kim taehyung

y/n: kill yourself

tae: no

heheheh

i’m a bad boy tonight

what you gonna do about it 😝

jimin: oh my god stop talking

tae: she wants me

y/n: she has a boyfriend

tae: never even seen that man in the same room as you

u sure you not making this relationship up

y/n: do i need to send you a fucking sex tape to prove it

tae: i mean…..

if you want lol

y/n: ur gross

tae: you’ve kissed me

y/n: top ten worst moments of my life

tae: WOAHHHHHHH

UMMM

OK NOW YOU’VE CROSSED A LINE

namjoon: enough

both of you

y/n: taes a shit kisser

tae: NO I AM NOT

NAMJOON TELL HER IM

NOT OHMYGOD HOW DARE SHE

namjoon: wydm tell her?

ur acting like i’ve kissed you to know

tae: i’ll kiss you

namjoon: i’m going to block you

tae: I AM NOT A SHIT KISSER

jimin: tae can’t kiss tae can’t kiss

tae: STOP I CAN

hobi: that’s really sad actually

jk: can someone do me a favour

yoongi: no

namjoon: what’s the favour?

yoongi: it’s gonna be something stupid

jk: joon can you buy me a house??

yoongi: shocker!!

tae: guys i’m a great kisser ask all the girls i’ve kissed

jimin: girls?

the only other girl you’ve kissed is jennie

tae: THATS NOT TRUE I NEVER KISSED THAT WOMAN IN MY LIFE

hobi: she didn’t let you kiss her even tho you flew all the way to paris for her??

that’s crazy

jin: maybe she was waiting for marriage

y/n: maybe she was waiting for the police

namjoon: i am not buying you a house are you out of ur mind??

jk: but how i’m i supposed to move out?

namjoon: buy ur own house?

tae: why would she be waiting for the police??????

jin: being seen with you is a crime in itself

don’t even get me started of being seen publicly HOLDING HANDS with you

hobi: right yikes

jimin: what’s the french police number?

y/n: fuck knows

jin: baguette snail croisant

jimin: those are not numbers

hobi: isn’t that racist?

jin: to who?

hobi: the french??

jin: you can be racist to the french???????

hobi: i think idk???

jin: shit you better lock me up then

been oui oui baguette eiffel tower bonejawing my whole life

y/n: bonejaw??????????

tae: jin ur like a mega racist…

hobi: do you like trump be honest

jin: tf is trump

jk: namjoon pls oh pls 🥺🥺🥺🥺

yoongi: can you guys not have 2 conversations at once thanks

tae: just say you can’t keep up

yoongi: just kill yourself

tae: WOAH

namjoon get him!!!!

namjoon: am i a dog??

why do i have to always get someone

i think you guys need to learn how to fight ur own battles

tae: dog

“stay😡😡😡😡”

w-what’s happening to me 😰😭

🧍🏻‍♂️… 🧎🏻‍♂️…. 🐕

arf? 🥺

*head tilt*

jimin: this is why women avoid you

tae: take a leaf out of my book bro

jimin: would genuinely rather die

hobi: /gen /srs

yoongi: /kys

jin: wait so jungkooks moving out but doesn’t have a home to move into

jk: i can always move in with yoongi

yoongi: LOL

jk: or jimin

jimin: wow the weather is great today guys 😆

jk: hobi will have me

hobi: no!

jk: jin joon??

namjoon: give up

jin: are you silly

tae: i could

jk: no thank you ❤️

tae: wtf

y/n: LMAO

tae: what’s wrong with living with me???

jk: u scare me a lot i’m sorry

tae: fucking bitch

jimin: what if y/n moved in with jaehyun then you have the house to urself?

jk: ARE YOU SILLY???

WHY WOULD I WANT THAT

IMG THE THOUGHT OF THAT MAKES ME WANT YO THROW UP

NEVER SAY THAT AGAIN

jimin: woah ok don’t shoot me in the head tf??

thought you wanted this independent life

y/n: i mean i can if that’s what u really want kook

jk: KOOK HEHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHE

my knees just gave out >.<

WAIT NO DONT MOVE IN WITH HIM YOU DONT HAVE TO IM SORRY NO DONT DO THAT

jin: u make me wanna throw up

jk: i love living with you!!! i’m sorry i’m not gonna move out so please don’t move out either living with you has been and IS the best thing that’s ever happened to me please don’t go

hobi: that’s a shinee song

jimin: didn’t she fuck a shinee member LMAO 💀

namjoon: jimin

jimin: sorrrrryyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

tae: so you can fight her battles for her but fighting mine is an issue????

ok sexism IS real females were onto something with this one

y/n: females??

yoongi: they way you dig urself deeper and deeper into unlikeability is truly insane

tae: my fault feminist yoongi here to get my ass 💀💀💀💀

NO IM SORRY I DIDNt MEAN THAT LMAOO

PLS DONT HURT ME

IDK WHY I SAID THAT

THE DEMONS TOOK OVER FOR A SEC

NO JOKE BLACKED OUT

DONT EVEN REMEMBER SAYING THAT

NAMJOON TELL HIM IT WAS A MISTAKE

JOON

KIM NAMJOON TELL HIM TELL HIM

hobi: tell me tell me tttttell me

yoongi: i’m gonna shoot him

namjoon: understandable

hobi: it’s the love shot

jk: i’m not moving out guys

jin: no shit

y/n: hobi answer my ft >_<

hobi: give me one sec my love!!!!!!!!!!

jimin: woah???

jin: uhhhhhhhh

tae: group ft ❤️!!

y/n: kys!!

tae: why do girls not fuck with the nice guys anymore

hobi blew up a school once

hobi: ??

tae: get off the phone so my gf can call ME

yoongi: i beg you to shut the fuck up

tae: beggar

jimin: that coming from you is actually insane tae!

tae: what

namjoon: so whose hosting games night this week

yoongi: not me

jin: i did it last time

jimin: my place is real messy

hobi: don’t wanna :/

tae: i refuse in protest of tae respect and love in this gc

y/n: me and jk can

since he’s not moving out and all

jk: 😁!!

namjoon: cool

everyone ok with that?

jin: yup

jimin: ok

yoongi: yes

tae: whatever lol

hobi: y/n why don’t you invite jaehyun??

so we can all properly meet him

you’ve met his members right??

he should meet yours no?

yoongi: ?????

tae: ARE YOU SILLY

jin: ur so wrong for that

y/n: ahhhh idk

i mean i have met his members

and i really do want you guys to properly meet him as well…

jimin: somethings going on

jk: haha yeah lol i mean i’ve met him already

he was my friend lol haha not that it matters but that’s ok

did i say was ?? i meant is lol sorry i wouldn’t stop being his friend just cuz he’s dating you that would be silly

but yeah but if you want him to come that’s cool

but he really really really doesn’t need to haha

namjoon: y/n bring your boyfriend

y/n: are you sure???

tae: NO??£:£:££:

jin: yes!!! #drama

jimin: ofc

yoongi: whatever

jk: hahah lol hahah

y/n: ok

hobi: great ☺️!!!

cant wait

jimin: i bet

hobi: ??

jimin: nothing

hobi: y/n answer :p

y/n: okokokokokokokokok

jimin: i’m gonna do some deep diving i’ll talk to you all later

(unfortunately)

(and by force not cuz i like you)

(the talking to you later part not the diving part)

bye

jk: woah didn’t know jimin was a diver

yoongi: ur stupid

@y/n reply to my message

bye

jin: wow guys i’m really exited for games night

gotta stock up on the alcohol

so i guess i’m going too

bye 👋🏻

tae: good i’m going as well

i’ve got to go and punch a wall

jungkook come over

this is srs business

jk: okay ^_^

getting in my car

speak to you all later 💓

hobi: y/n told me to tell you all bye

so bye from her and bye from me

😁🫰🏼😁🫰🏼😁🫰🏼😁🫰🏼😁🫰🏼😁🫰🏼

namjoon: woah

did we

did we just end a conversation normally….

oh my god

wow

guys wow omg

this is the first time this has happened

wow

i’m in shock

this is such a big step for us

i’m so proud

wow

what do i even say rn

….

yoongi: how about goodbye

blowing up my phone for no reason

namjoon: no ur right i’m sorry

goodbye guys

have a good day???

yeah

um wow

yeah have a good day guys i mean it

i honestly and truly mean it

wow

yeah and

yoongi removed namjoon from “BFFS 😁💜”

—

hobi sus

tags: @piw6n @92jinnies @birdie-vhs @kooksmilitarywife @hob3loveofmylife @jujubiism @bloopkook @ratchetpizza1 @myntalks @arloo00 @watamotee33 @y2kcy3brz @taiwan0618 @indigobsessed @freyadanvers @gguksbeloved @raetf @bbsantc @winuvs @medicinemybish @bxnnyhime @leleluvsbts @baetukki @zyaaaszn @thelilbutifulthings @jazminethecreator @k4ngelz @jmnscutie

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thatsdemko · 1 year

Text

ride that like a Mercedes - t.wolff & l.hamilton

masterlist

threes company

requested: y but also n

pairings: Toto Wolff x fem!famous!reader & Lewis Hamilton x fem!famous!reader

warnings: not intended for minors + sexual acts mentioned(not very many details)

a/n: I’m back with another one of these! I was told by an anon that they loved my previous fic like this so why not create another?? there is also no crazy age gap between the reader, Toto and Lewis in this. shoutout @monzabee for helping me finish this! feedback is always appreciated xx

《 the following content is not intended for minors. 》

the roars from the screams and cheers break through your noise canceling headphones, the garage practically rumbles with excitement watching Lewis pull another podium. it’s thrilling, watching Toto pump the air and high five surrounding team members. everyone’s happy, including you.

you got the best view of the whole Grand Prix, Toto Wolff. sure, the fast cars and endless laps of excitement were what people paid for, but the view of him could never be tiring.

his white Mercedes dress shirt sleeves were bunched up from stress, glasses that he once was wearing were tossed to the side, and that crinkled smile was just everything to get a girl wet. and you’re one of those girls.

“good race to watch?” he asks, Austrian accent shinning through, he pulls you in for a side hug as you congratulate him on another successful race.

“it certainly was fun to watch.” you smile up at him taking in all of his features; the lines of stress on his forehead, the crinkles by his eyes from laughing or smiling, and those beautiful, oh so beautiful, brown eyes.

he bends down so only you can hear him, “I noticed that you had more fun watching me than the drivers.” he picks his head up from his whisper and moves along the team to Lewis and George to congratulate them both.

you’re struck, you thought you played your glances and stares off, but he saw them all. every single one of them Toto knew you were looking, and every time you weren’t looking, he took the chance to look too.

he knew tons of pretty women who were interested in him, and it wasn’t that they didn’t strike him, but they weren’t you. he’d been looking for someone that sparked something in him, and somehow you just did it.

its not until the lights are out and the night life trickles in when courage finally washes through you. you’re confident he feels the same way, so when you guide him to the dance floor and his hand naturally falls onto your hip, it’s all the signs you need. he wants this.

it’s not long until you’ve got the Austrian billionaire cornered in the private restroom, clothes flying every which way and raspy moans escaping left and right from both of your lips. it’s all good, he thinks he’s lost his touch after months of nothing, but the multiple orgasms tell him everything.

this felt better than a 1-2 win.

—

this is your home turf, modeling, runways, fashion shows, it’s all yours. you expected him to be here, you expected to see him, but not this soon. not after what’s happened two nights ago.

he’s got that gorgeous smile on his face, beautiful brown skin is glowing under the lights as he slips through the curtains to say hello to fellow models and makeup artists.

he’s always kind, always being just a sweetheart, it’s no surprise you find yourself in the position you’re in. your lips on his, hands roaming, nails dug into his tattooed skin.

he acts normal the whole show. claps when he needs to, looks when he’s supposed to. but you feel those eyes on you, they are just different than the way he looked at anybody else. you could see out the corner of your, focused, eyes he’s licking his lips before leaning to whisper something to George. it’s all making you anxious, you want to get off this runway, and just run away with him.

he gets you when everything is done. clothes you’ve modeled are back on the hangers, makeup is off, and you’re in nothing but bra and panties.

he takes the time to stretch you out, lips suck and pull your exposed skin. he sees the marks that the makeup did a good job of covering, and he just sucks over them and makes new ones where the other guy didn’t.

little does he know, the other guy? was his own boss.

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moonstruckme · 9 months

Note

Steve Harrington!! We love him!!

I’d love to request established relationship fem!reader passing out. I just know Steve would be so loving and caring🫶🏼

Thanks for requesting babe! He is so loving and caring...in his own way <3

cw: reader passes out, mention of skipping meals

Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

“Hey, hey!” Steve taps your face frantically, tone accusatory as if you’ll wake up if you know you’re in trouble. “Y/n, come on.”

You’ve been working in the garden all afternoon. After weeks of complaining about the pests that had been eating your tomatoes, you’d finally found a free day to plant marigolds to keep them away. Steve thought he’d win Boyfriend of the Year by making a pitcher of lemonade for you, but when he’d called you and you’d turned around, you no sooner stood up than you went back down.

“Babe, hey.” Your eyes move behind your eyelids, and he looses a breath, patting your cheek a couple more times until they peel open.

You look frighteningly out of it, eyes squinty and unfocussed as they move over your surroundings before settling on Steve.

“What?” you ask, like he’s woken you up for no good reason.

“You okay?” He shuffles closer to you on the ground. He feels heart-twistingly guilty about not being quick enough to catch you, but thankfully you’d crumpled to the side, onto the soft grass, so he’s hoping you haven’t hurt yourself too badly. Still, he can’t move you until he knows for sure. At his question, you only blink sluggishly. “Hey,” he tries again, urgent. “Does anything hurt?”

“I don’t…” Your face scrunches confusedly. “I don’t think so.”

“Okay, okay.” That’s good enough for Steve. He slides a careful hand under your head, feeling for blood or bumps. When he doesn’t find any, he brings it into his lap, grabbing the cup he’d set on the ground after running to you. “Here, have—have some lemonade.”

Miraculously, there’s still some liquid that hasn’t sloshed out. Your first sip is tentative, but you drink greedily after that, a thin rivulet missing the corner of your mouth and running down your cheek. Steve swipes it away before it can drip off your chin, bringing his hand to your forehead to cover your eyes from the sun.

“Jesus, babe, are you trying to kill me? What happened?”

“M’not sure.” Your voice comes out a bit clearer as you lower the cup, eyes blinking open further now that you’re not squinting against the light. “I just got really hot, all of a sudden. Did I pass out?”

“Yeah.” Steve tries to position his head so it’s blocking the sun, using his hand to brush dirt and grass from the side of your face. “You fell pretty hard, honey.”

“Sorry.”

A funny little laugh startles out of him. “Yeah, you fucking should be.” Steve shakes his head, squishing your cheek meanly with his thumb, both of you sticky with sugar and soil. “You scared the shit out of me, idiot. Are you sure you’re not hurting anywhere?”

You frown. “My head sort of hurts.”

Steve’s blood runs cold. “Yeah?” he asks, already probing at the side that had hit the ground with panicky, perhaps less-than-gentle fingers.

“Mm, but just, like, a headache,” you say, discomfort evident in your tone. “It’s not bad.”

Steve finds that to be of little consolation. “C’mon, let’s go inside,” he says, helping you sit up before wrapping an arm under your shoulders to support you as you walk. You seem perfectly capable, now, almost back to normal if a little disoriented, but he’s not taking any chances.

He sets you onto the couch and you all but dissolve into the cushions, pressing your face to the cool pillow while he goes to get more lemonade from the kitchen. He detours to grab some painkillers too. (Those might be a bad idea if whatever’s going on with you turns out to be serious, but he can’t think past making you feel better right now. If painkillers do that, fuck everything else.) You take them both gratefully, sitting up again to gulp down the contents of the cup. Steve presses the back of his hand to your sweaty forehead. It doesn't seem hot enough outside for heatstroke, but you never know. Thankfully, you seem normal, though you lean into his cool touch with an adorable little sigh.

“I’m gonna make you something to eat,” he tells you, taking your cup for a refill. “PB and J sound okay?”

“Yes, please.” Your voice follows him into the kitchen, and he relaxes a bit at the far more familiar sound of it, less waver in your tone. Maybe the drink and air conditioning are doing you good. “Sorry, Stevie, I don’t know what happened.”

“Have you been drinking water?” he asks, getting a plate down from your cabinets and setting the bread on it.

“Yeah,” you sound confused. A bit defensive, too. “I brought a water bottle out with me, I’ve been drinking from it the whole time.”

That’s true, Steve had seen it sitting upright in the grass next to you. “Maybe one water bottle wasn’t enough,” he suggests. “You were out there for a while.”

“It’s not that hot out,” you argue, but you sound unsure.

He huffs though he doesn’t disagree, slathering the jelly side of your sandwich thicker, the way you like it. “What’d you have for lunch?”

There’s a pause. “A banana.”

“No, you had that for breakfast. I was there.” He finishes with your sandwich, putting his supplies back where they came from. “I meant what’d you have for lunch?”

You’re quiet, and when Steve turns the corner with your PB&J, you’re already looking over at him, your expression sheepish.

His next exhale is huffy with exasperation. “Oh, you asshole,” he says, even as relief floods through him. At least this, he knows what to do about. “You are trying to kill me!”

“I’m sorry, I forgot!” Your voice pitches as he stalks closer, almost laughing when he dumps your plate unceremoniously in your lap. “I really just forgot, Stevie, I would never try to kill you.”

“You’re just trying to make me go gray in my prime, is that it?” He shakes his head, but your smile has always been contagious, and his lips start to curve against his will. “Just eat your sandwich.”

You take a bite obediently, humming in satisfaction. “This is really good, baby. Thank you.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “I’ll bet it is.”

“Steve?”

He grunts.

“Could I have a kiss, please?”

He looks over, and you’re giving him the eyes. Those sweet, never-did-nothing-to-nobody, beautiful eyes. And, well, he’s hopeless for them.

“Yeah, fine.” He leans over, still careful as he sets a hand on your face to tilt you towards him. You taste of sweetness, lemonade and strawberry jam and your cherry chapstick. Steve samples it once, twice, three times, before drawing back. “I’m gonna cut you up some fruit, okay?” he says softly, thumb sweeping across your cheek. “Stay put.”

“You’re such a mom,” you tease as he starts back towards the kitchen.

“Keep talking like that,” he threatens, “and I’ll cut off kisses completely.”

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heartsteel-heartbeats · 10 months

Note

fellow kayn appreciator hi!!!! love how you write him :D could i please request platonic headcanons or like. general thoughts on how kayn would be as a friend to a gn!reader? whether they're also a performer or not is up to you but specifically they'd have met before kayn joined heartsteel. thank you and i hope life treats you kindly!! 💕

Platonic Kayn HCs

Reader is a performer, Pre-Heartsteel

(( I don’t think you guys actually know what you do to me whenever you compliment the way I write Kayn it has me doing the Markiplier “yippee! wahoo!! yeeee!!” )) ~ OBBY 💗

Being friends with Kayn includes lots of text messages from him. Sometimes you two text each other for hours, other times he has to run cause he’s busy. If you text him before he does after he says he has to do something, you’ll probably be speaking to Rhaast. There’s a 50/50 chance that he’ll stay and chat for a while or he’ll say he can’t chat cause he’s still working.

Sometimes he doesn’t get back to you for a few days. If you’re lucky, he’ll message you within hours. If it is taking him a few days, there’s a good chance you may need to check up on him. Sometimes he loses himself when he’s too focused on working.

On some nights, you two video call on Discord while you’re both working. You may or may not end up getting sidetracked by playing a video game together. FPS, horror, or survival horror. So games like Left 4 Dead, Dying Light, Lethal Company, and even Halo are up there. As long as there’s co-op, you’ll be playing. Sometimes, one of you will share your screen so the other can watch. Games like The Mortuary Assistant, Resident Evil, Alien: Isolation, and Outlast are pretty good.

Going to each other’s concerts isn’t always a guarantee, but both of you try. Not to mention, the paparazzi will be annoying to deal with once people start to realize one of you is at the other’s concert.

Kayn’s not against introducing you to Akali. There’s a good chance she’s heard of you and probably listens to some of your works, so it’s a win. And so, you, Kayn, and Akali are all in a group chat where you just kinda laugh at some hate comments each of you get. It’s especially funny when the thread just keeps going with people arguing. It’s very tempting to go and leave a comment in the argument just to see how it’d go, especially since Kayn would actually try to get you and Akali to say something. Luckily neither of you actually did it. Imagine the articles and posts on social media that would be made about it…

Since this is before Kayn joined Heartsteel, Kayn does sometimes send you some of his works. You know, the ones that were never made public. He knows you accept both him and Rhaast, so think of it as his appreciation for it. Sometimes Rhaast sends ones that Kayn didn’t send yet, but in return, he wants a sneak peek at one of your own.

On that topic, you’ve kept up to date with what his old band has been up to, both before and after he was no longer a part of it. It wasn’t on purpose, it just shows up on your recommended time to time. There was some discourse, and then after Kayn was no longer there, things seemed to take a bit of a turn for the worst for both him and the band. The band was struggling and Kayn’s reputation crashed. Him not releasing his songs to the public didn’t help, but he had his reasons for that. You were in no position to pry, so all you can really do is continue supporting him.

The idea for a collab was always up there even if you’re running solo or not, but it never actually happens because Kayn and Rhaast always have drafts piled up. Rhaast just thinks it’d be pretty fun to do. But seriously, they do need to finish up their own works. A collab is the last thing he needs to add to his list right now.

Sometimes invites you to liven up an alley he found, or a wall in an abandoned building. If you have an idea for his idea, say it. He knows if you’ve got something in mind anyway, so it’d be better to just say it because he’d pester you about it. You’ll probably even notice he brings a little sketchbook sometimes. Also, those spray paints were totally not Akali’s. If you have paint as well, he’ll be taking those too. If you find some missing, you know who to interrogate. Don’t expect him to admit it though.

If you’re the one inviting him, he doesn’t mind if he just watches or pitches in an idea or two. Knowing him, he won’t always just sit and watch. He also doesn’t want you holding back on your artistic ability, so please, go all out and experiment if you have to. Not giving it your all, especially in front of him, is almost insulting to him.

Do you guys get caught? Maybe sometimes. The chase is always fun though. Well, maybe not all the time, but you can still look back at the memory and laugh a bit.

Kayn has one or two of your songs in his little private playlist. Will he ever tell you? Nope.

Sometimes the media goes overboard with your relationship with him. It’d be nice to debunk all of their theories and speculations, but Kayn insisted you let them go at it cause it’s funny. Admittedly, it was. Every small thing was “a hint.” There are some that take some “signs” differently and start wars between both of your fans. Still rather entertaining, but it did feel more concerning. Some fans can be pretty crazy. Usually, those little wars fix themselves within a few weeks if you’re lucky. Maybe months.

If it does come to it, Kayn won’t stop you from posting something in response to hopefully calm things down. Hell, he might even make a post himself. His wording might be a bit aggressive though.

#heartsteel #obby’s scripts!#i feel like some of this is suggesting they like each other 🧍#also sorry if it’s kinda shorter than how much i usually type #league of legends #league of legends heartsteel #heartsteel kayn #lol kayn #shieda kayn #kayn x reader #kayn #league of legends x reader #league of legends rhaast #rhaast

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ilguna · 4 months

Text

☼ my tears ricochet pt2 (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; it’s been six months since you were banished from district four. since then, you’ve been trying to lay low and keep your nose clean. one night, you and gale go to the local bar to wind down after a long week, and he helps you come to a realization that changes everything.

warnings; swearing, prostitution mention, alcohol, arson, death mention, mental health talk, torture.

wc; 6.5k

part one.

notes; hints of Gale slander but fish are friends not food!!

The July summer breeze feels nice against your hot skin, causing you to close your eyes to enjoy it properly. It’s even better this way. You reach back to lift the hair off your neck, which is slightly damp from sweat after working all day in the sun. A chill goes down your spine when the wind hits the spot just right.

There’s a lot of similarities between District Two and Four that you've come to notice over time, but the heat is not one of them. It’s very dry here, there’s a lot of desert and very little rain to sustain any real plant life. Any that do exist have already evolved to live off of practically no water. For miles, all you can see is dirt and half-dead bushes,

While back home, you’re located right on the coast, allowing for more rainy days than plain sunshine. The trees, grass and flowers are always fed and healthy. Even if it doesn’t rain, there are clouds to block the heat from beating on you, making every afternoon a pleasant one.

This weather difference alone isn’t enough to make you feel homesick, but there are so many other factors at play that contribute to it. When you first moved to District Two, you had a feeling that you’d never be able to get used to living here. It’s been six months since then, and you’re still a stranger when you walk the streets.

The only familiar thing—or rather, person—here is Gale.

Except, he isn’t from home. He’s not one of your childhood friends, or a neighbor from your previous neighborhood. You can’t talk to him about what could be going on since you got banished. He’s from District Twelve. The only thing you have in common is the fact that you’re both rebels.

You can’t even use your banishment as a way to bond with him, because he deserved what he got, and you were wrongly accused. While Finnick had framed you for allegedly giving the Peacekeepers your next steps—Gale had actually indirectly got Primrose Everdeen killed through one of the ideas that he developed with Beetee.

He might not have been the one to send out the bombs, because former President Alma Coin had to approve that order, but he was the one to suggest using it. Gale was desperate to win the rebellion at any cost, until he paid the biggest price.

There’s a good chance that Gale will never be able to go back to District Twelve after what he did. Especially since Katniss, Peeta and Haymitch have decided to stay and continue living there. Although, with how well things are going in Two with the volunteer work, it probably hasn’t crossed his mind.

It’s not exactly easy work. Most of the time, you don’t have enough time to be thinking about anything other than what your hands are doing. It’s mind-numbing in a good way, and usually you feel pretty accomplished by the end of the task.

The work deals with a lot of construction and beautification. Usually, you don’t get paid for it. Sometimes they’ll give out free lunch if it’s going to be a particularly long day of tearing down bricks and planting greenery. There’s been a few times where you’ve been so caught up in the work, that you went all night.

It’s gotten you a lot of recognition from the people that are native to Two, which is not what you’re striving for, but it’s nice to not have to worry about the hatred as much. When you first arrived at the train station six months ago, it was pretty clear that a lot of people held prejudice against you. Over time, they’ve gotten curious and have bothered you to ask what happened.

It takes a lot of explanation and convincing, but eventually they believe you. Or, at the very least, they take a neutral standpoint and choose not to pick a side entirely. You know that it’s a lot of he-said, she-said. It’s hard to know who’s telling the truth in a serious situation like that.

On one hand, it’d be nice to believe Finnick, because he’s the one that first came forward with the story. Plus, he’s been Panem’s darling for so long that it would be heinous for him to do something so selfish and seemingly out-of-character.

On the other, you have never done something so snake-ish ever. Everyone should know that if a situation like that happens, you would take the hit of being taken for the greater good. It’s your one life versus several. As terrifying as it would’ve been, you could’ve handled whatever the Capitol had to offer for you at that moment.

Of course, when you tell people the real side of the story, you take a massive hit for not telling the group when you had the chance before the sewers. The issue is that Finnick had been keeping a close eye on you, under the guise that he wanted to protect you, but also to ensure that your mouth stayed shut.

If you could go back and change the situation, you would.

“(L/n), (Y/n).” A woman calls.

You open your eyes, briefly being blinded by the sun while you turn to face Azalea. She’s the head director here in District Two for the volunteer work, she keeps everything very organized. It’s less stressful when she’s the one taking care of things for the day.

“Yes?” You ask, finding her at the front of the crowd.

She’s a short, blonde woman with tan skin. She holds up the clipboard, showing you the paper for a second. All you can gather is the fact that it’s a signup sheet, so you begin to move forward, carefully brushing past some of the workers in the process.

“What time did you get here today?” Azalea asks, once you’re in front of her.

“Um—“ You glance over your shoulder to search for Gale, because he’s the one with the watch. He keeps track of the time and when you go on break.

“Seven-twenty.” Gale says from beside you, making you jump slightly. “We both got here at that time.”

Azalea hums, writing that down in the time slot next to your names. You look over Gale, who you haven’t seen in a good fifteen minutes. There’s a smudge of dirt beneath his eye, so you lick your thumb, reaching to rub it away. He dodges your finger, face twisting in disgust.

“You look dirty.” You tell him, wiping the dirt off of his skin. “Stop being a baby, I’ve seen you eat a potato that touched the bar floor before.”

“It was expensive.”

“Are either of you available tomorrow for a paid job?” Azalea interrupts. “I’ve got a house call from Enobaria Golding that needs to be done, and no one is signing up for it.”

“What’s it for?” You ask.

“She’s turning Victor’s Village into a memorial, I believe she just needs help moving furniture around in some of the houses. As well as cleaning up the neighborhood’s fountain, loose leaves, and pavement.”

You look at Gale with raised eyebrows, his lips are pressed together. “What time?”

“Whenever you can, she thinks it’s going to be a three day job at the very least. She’s paying over a hundred per hour, it used to be lower, but got raised because it’s urgent.” Azalea looks between you two.

“I’m in.” You tell her, “We could have it done in three days.”

Gale sighs, “Yeah, sign me up too.”

She begins to write your names down on a separate paper. “Will it be a big deal if I close it, then? I don’t think I’ll be able to find others. No one’s keen on Enobaria.”

“That’s fine.” You agree, “I know her, we’ll get along. Is it a contract?”

“I can make it one.” Azalea nods. “Swing by later tonight, I’ll have it ready.”

“Sounds good, Azalea. Thank you.” You nod.

“Are we good to go?” Gale asks, beginning to take a step back.

“Yup. Be good, you two.” She points the end of her pen in the middle of you guys, and then turns her attention back to the group that’s waiting to sign out.

Gale takes charge on leading you out of the center square. With how tall he is and the aggressive look on his face, he clears a path faster than you can. Besides, no one wants to be more than three feet near him. And yes, that has to do with his own reputation.

“What’s your plan for tonight?” Gale asks over his shoulder.

“Well, since we’re probably going to get a late start tomorrow, I wouldn’t mind going to the bar tonight.” You raise your eyebrows.

He hums, “Right now?”

“Sure, why not?”

With that, Gale changes direction, heading for the good bar on the other side of District Two. When you first came here, you spent a lot of time bar hopping. In those weeks, you figured out that the fancy places were not, in fact, better. They were just more expensive.

It wasn’t until you found the dirty place on the corner of Upper Heights, did you realize that they charge less for better quality. The only perk of going to those higher-end places is the fact that you can brag that you went there. You don’t talk to many people outside of Gale, and he was the one you took with you.

Well, that’s not entirely right. You didn’t take him with you—he tagged along, despite knowing that he was unwelcome. You didn’t like him very much to begin with back in District Thirteen because you thought what he did to Peeta’s family was pretty shitty, so you tried to steer clear of him as much as possible. The way he acted during the Capitol storming just solidified your ideas.

When Gale heard that you were going to be staying in District Two, he attached to you. You tried several different ways to get him to leave you alone, ranging from practically verbally abusing him to flat out ignoring. He didn’t care, he was ready for whatever you had to throw at him.

It eventually hit the point where you figured that you might as well deal with him. At the time, it would’ve been easier to put up with Gale than to try and convince someone that you were worthy of a conversation. He was an ass to put up with, and you caught yourself wondering how Katniss hung around him for so long.

In the end, it worked out. You and Gale can talk to each other without arguing. You two have a lot more in common than you originally thought, too. Although, some of his ideas are questionable, and you usually have to stop him from talking to keep that peaceful state.

“I’m surprised you want to drink so early.” Gale remarks.

“It’s almost eight o’clock.” You reason, motioning to the sky. “It’s not my fault it’s still bright out.”

The sun is slowly setting on the horizon, getting ready to say goodbye for the night. Which is good, because you’re tired of the heat. Unfortunately, it’ll still be warm out, even with the flaming ball in the sky gone. At least the bar has air conditioning.

Gale reaches for the handle, pulling the door open. He holds it for you as you enter first, allowing you to choose where to sit tonight. You head for the table in the corner, the one that lets you have a perfect view of the entire room, and a quick escape for the door.

Gale begrudgingly takes his jacket off and sets it on the chair that has its back to the room. “Your usual?”

“Yes, and water, please.” You tell him, reaching for your wallet. “I’ll pay for the first round. We can alternate tonight.”

Gale holds his hand out, watching as you drop the cash in his hand. He counts it as he walks away, heading for the bar top. You watch as he and the bartender go back and forth as the drinks are made. A minute later, Gale comes over, placing the glasses on the table.

You start with the water, parched. They provide water, but they keep the bottles to recycle them, even if you aren’t finished with what’s inside. Once half the cup is empty, you start on your mixed drink, watching as Gale takes a sip of straight brown liquor.

“Do you remember what Azalea was saying about next week?” You ask, watching as Gale’s face twists.

“You mean the beach clean up?” Gale asks.

“Yeah, she said District Four, right?”

“I think. And whatever else is beside it. They’ve got their own coordinators over there, so they aren’t taking volunteers. Trust me, I tried.”

“They would’ve denied me, anyway.” You roll your eyes.

“I don’t know, Azalea hesitated. She said that we’d be useful, but the deadline passed a couple days ago.”

“Any victors going?” You ask.

He scoffs, “No, the last I heard, everyone’s hands off.”

You hum, resting your head on your hand. You get about the same information that Gale does when it comes to the victors, usually in snippets.

Enobaria’s here, obviously, in District Two. You didn’t know that she was doing a memorial for the Two victors until today, which is nice of her. You can’t imagine how hard it is to be the only surviving victor of a district. Especially since Lyme was alive for the rebellion, but got killed during the storming of the Capitol.

Speaking of which, Beetee’s working in the heart of it under Commander Paylor. You’re not sure what he’s doing exactly, likely something with electronics or the defense system, if you had to guess. All you know is that he was able to resume basically what he had been before, this time for a better cause.

As for Katniss, there’s a lot of mixed news on her. Some say that she’s doing over-the-phone therapy appointments with Doctor Aurelius, mandated by Paylor to assess Katniss’s state of mind periodically after the assassination of former President Snow. Others tell you that she’s been skipping calls and hasn’t been out of her house in who-knows how long.

After everything that happened, you just hope that she's doing okay.

Peeta is doing his own sessions, also with Doctor Aurelius. Except, he’s not in Twelve, he’s still stationed in the Capitol for the time being. There’s a lot of progress regarding the hijacking, but it’s hard to know for sure if permanent damage hasn’t been done. And they can’t really test that out, either.

Haymitch… could honestly be anywhere. You heard he was forced to attend rehab in District Thirteen a second time, getting him completely sober. He’s fallen off the map since then, so your best guess is that he’s still there. You know post-war that he began to struggle with his sobriety after losing so many longtime friends.

This brings you to the few people that you could care less about. Starting with Johanna, she’s in District Seven, enjoying her life. She isn’t doing anything of importance, just wasting away in her own victor house, letting people wait on her. They tried to get Doctor Aurelius to rope her in, but she’s resilient. She doesn’t care about bettering herself, even though it’s pretty needed after the torture.

Annie Cresta is living in District Four, right alongside your ex-boyfriend and traitor, Finnick Odair. You don’t get much information on them, and it has to do with the fact that you get pissed off at the sound of their success. From your understanding, they live guilt-free and happy in their mansions, sleeping in their own beds.

When you ask for updates regarding Four, it’s a hit or miss if you get anything of importance. For example, they could tell you that fishing’s down, and it has been for the past couple weeks. Or, they’ll lay it on heavy, by telling you that your childhood home and your victor home are nothing but foundation.

You remember how dark the world became when you heard the news. Finnick told you on that runway in City Circle that they’d burnt your victor house down, something that you’d be able to live with. It didn’t have the prized possessions of your parents and siblings, or the pictures that captured you growing up. The only physical memory of the family you once had.

Apparently, not long after Finnick returned to Four, they’d set your home ablaze, too.

A part of you wonders whether or not that was encouraged by him. God forbid if you ever find out that’s the case. You might not be very threatening now, but nothing will stand in the way between your fists and his face if he told them to take away your last safe haven in Panem.

Anyway, when you were told the news about your childhood home, it almost became your breaking point. You’d been in Two for about three weeks at that point, and you were in no sound state to hear something so heavy. Especially on top of everything else that had been happening in the last year.

“Tomorrow’s July fourth.” Gale says, kinda changing the topic.

“Reaping Day.” You agree, nodding, taking another sip of your drink. “This will be the first year where a Hunger Games hasn’t taken place in Seventy-Six years.”

Gale stares off at the bar for a couple of quiet seconds. “What was it like being a victor?”

“Was?” You repeat. “You act like that’s a title that’s been taken away. I am a victor.”

He rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“Still.” You mutter. “I don’t know, what was it like being a worker in the mines?”

Gale’s face scrunches up. “You’re really comparing my district work to victor life?”

“I’m not saying district work isn’t hard or dangerous, especially with the mining stories that you were telling me. However, only one of us has been reaped twice and fought in both Hunger Games.” You remind him. “I have killed more than six people on purpose with three indirect kills following that.”

“You act like that’s something to brag about.” He squints at you.

“I’m not saying it is. All I’m saying is that victor life isn’t easy, either. And if you need an example, take Annie Cresta.”

“Annie Cresta is an anomaly.”

“But Katniss isn’t.” You raise your eyebrows. “I bet she had PTSD following her Games, and couldn’t hold a bow without remembering what she used it for inside of the arena.”

Gale makes a face, tilting his head. “You’re not wrong.”

You raise your hand in his direction, because you knew you weren’t wrong. “Anyway, to answer your question—before the rebellion, there were hard parts and there were easy parts. Especially when it came to mentoring.”

His eyes land back on you. “How was that?”

“A nightmare.” You tell him. “There’s a reason why a lot of the victors ended up like Haymitch. Or addicted or morphling.” You swish the ice around in your glass.

“I’ll grab the next round.” Gale reaches for your cup, you move your hand.

“Thanks.”

He slides off his chair, heading away. With the questions he’s asking, you’re going to be drinking the entire night. He’s never been interested in victor life before, but you suppose there wasn’t a lot of opportunity to ask questions with Katniss. Besides, she’s not nearly as experienced as you are in that area.

He could ask you anything about the Capitol, and you’d have an answer for him. There was one point in your career where you had to be studying their mannerisms because Snow was getting ready to put you on the chopping block. Your victory almost completely outshone Finnick’s, you were going to be his ticket out of the prostitution industry, but your popularity died quickly.

For what reason, you’re not sure. All you know is that Snow sent you an ‘I regret to inform you…’ letter, telling you that you’ve been shelved. As if that was supposed to be upsetting, instead of relieving. You even remember crying in your room, praising whatever intervened and saved you.

When Gale comes back, he’s got more questions, “Wasn’t there good aspects about it, too?”

Your face twists as you take the first sip of your drink. “I guess. Besides the money and the house, we were free to do basically what we wanted in the Capitol, in moderation.”

“You weren’t trapped inside of the Tribute Center?” He asks, eyebrows raised.

“No,” You scoff, “We were anything but trapped. We were encouraged to enjoy what the Capitol had to offer, we were walking advertisements of the Hunger Games. I didn’t take advantage of it though, I’d only been on them a couple times before the Quarter Quell.”

“Why?”

“They couldn’t just set us free, obviously. They had to keep an eye on us somehow, and that was done through the street cameras. They’re everywhere.” You shake your head. “I mean, you can’t go a single block without them.”

Gale pauses, putting his glass back down on the table. “Were they on the street when we were passing through?”

“Yeah, of course. The cameras are less frequent on the outskirts because there’s not a lot of crime in the Capitol, but they exist. It gets more difficult around the President’s Mansion because that’s a huge security risk.”

Gale stares at you, unmoving.

You look over his face, and then down to his drink. “What?”

“Are you hearing yourself?” He asks.

“Yeah?”

Gale smiles a little bit. “Never mind. What was your favorite thing to do in the Capitol?”

“It had to be the bars, or the clubs. I couldn’t go to very many of them, though. Which meant that I spent a lot of time in cafe’s.”

“Why couldn’t you go to clubs?”

“Finnick, mostly. He was a darling.” You rub the rim of your glass. When you look up at Gale, you raise your eyebrows. “You know, the whole prostitution thing. They always knew where he was because of the cameras. I’m lucky I never got pulled in. I came close several times.”

Gale presses his lips together. “They’d watch the street through the camera?”

“Yup, and they’d send high officials to our location to steal Finnick for the night, because he couldn’t say no. They could even play the footage back to see where we were coming from.”

“How far back?”

Your eyes wander away from his face. “I’m not entirely sure.” You lean back in the chair. “I mean, the Capitol used to pull footage from a year before of the victors to prove there were fashion trends.”

“So you’re telling me that they have footage of the streets from a year ago? Or at least, six months ago?” Gale presses.

“They should. I don’t know what good it would do now.” You tell him, locking eyes with him.

Gale doesn’t say anything, staring at you intensely. You open your mouth to ask what’s wrong with him, but end up sealing your lips, eyes narrowing in his direction. He does this to you sometimes when you’re missing a piece of a puzzle, and he’ll refuse to tell you what it is because he wants you to work it out.

It has to do with the cameras in the Capitol, because that’s what he’d been asking about. It’s such an insignificant detail, you’re not sure why he’s hung up on it. He had to have known there were cameras, that’s how they kept track of where you were in the sewers. If they hadn’t already known where you’d be going, of course.

The Peacekeepers found you on the street, thanks to those cameras. They probably even planned it down to the second to make sure that you were out of sight, in case any of the others came out of the apartment complex to look for you. Just like how they’d done to you and Finnick before…

You jerk upright, eyes widening as you watch Gale break into a smile. “Oh my god, there might be footage of Finnick and I on the street. And it might even have audio.”

“I was wondering when you’d get it.” He laughs.

You look around the bar, searching for the clock to find the time. It’s almost nine o’clock, the Justice Building closes at nine-thirty. Since it’s Friday, it’ll be closed through the weekend, unless there’s an emergency. And they won’t count your situation as one.

“I need to go.” You tell Gale, sliding off your chair, pulling your jacket over your arm. “I have to speak to Mayor Sybil.”

“Right now?” Gale asks, face twisting.

“Yes, right now.” You tell him. “I’ll meet you back at the house.”

You head for the door in a rush, just barely getting the gap open wide enough for you to slip through before you’re running down the street. The Justice Building is on the other side of the town, where Azalea organizes the volunteers. You know it's a fairly long walk but you’ve never had to run there before.

You clutch the jacket to your chest, one arm pumping viciously at your side. You try your best to maneuver through the main and side streets of Upper Heights. Unfortunately, it’s not late enough for the town to be empty, especially not since it’s leading into the weekend. You receive several stares, people fully stopping to watch you run by, and heads turning at the sound of your feet crunching against gravel and cobblestone.

You try to keep your breathing as even as you can, remembering the rigorous training for the Quarter Quell that Mags put you through. She knew better than anyone what to expect. If it weren’t for her, you would’ve been unprepared.

The run feels like forever, but can’t be anymore than fifteen minutes—maybe twenty at the most. The second you see the Justice Building, a smaller boost of energy enters your system, and it’s the last push you need to make it to the doors in time. Right before the receptionist tries to lock it.

Her key is in the door when you push it open, gasping for air, wiping the sweat from your eyes. The cool air from the vent hits you in the face, easing the burning pain in your face.

“Excuse me.” The receptionist says, her face is twisted. “We’re closed for the night.”

You shake your head, breathing through your mouth as you look up at the clock on the wall, which is right above a bench. Good, you need to sit down, or you’re going to lay on the tile floor. You bet that it’s cold.

“You don’t close…” You manage to get out, trailing off for a few breaths. “For another ten minutes.”

She presses her lips together. “We’ve had a slow day, so we’re closing early today.”

“This is urgent.” You breathe. “I need to see Mayor Sybil.”

“You can come back and visit her on Monday.”

“Respectfully, that’s not happening.” You tell the receptionist. “We can waste time arguing, or you can just bring me to her.”

She glares at you, but starts walking down the hallway, presumably to the mayor. You get off the bench, following her. It’s a fairly quiet walk, if you tune out the stomping of her heels against the floor. And the occasional annoyed sigh.

She stops in front of the mayor’s door, knocking on the wood next to the crystal glass as a courtesy, before swinging the door open without permission to enter.

Mayor Sybil must be used to this, or doesn’t care. She looks up from her rectangular glasses with raised eyebrows. She looks between you two for just a moment, and then a little smile comes to her face as she gets to her feet.

“Miss (L/n), to what do I owe this pleasure, tonight?” She asks.

“I’ve been wrongly accused.” You tell her, stepping inside of the room. You drop your jacket onto the chair in front of her desk. “And there’s proof.”

Sybil winces, beginning to tilt her head, which means she’s going to start doubting you, and you don’t necessarily blame her. For the longest time, you’d come to the Justice Building and beg for them to reconsider. Sybil knows your routine by now.

“Listen, (Y/n), you know—” She starts.

“No.” You cut her off, glancing at the receptionist. “I need to speak to Sybil in private.” You tell her, just before closing the door in her face. “Sybil, the Capitol has cameras on the street.”

When you look at her, you can see that she’s placed her glasses on the top of her head, rubbing her nose. “Go on.”

“The cameras should’ve caught the conversation between Finnick and the Peacekeepers, and there’s going to be audio to go along with it.” You pull out the chair, stepping around the arm to sit down. “Will you please get Paylor on the phone?”

“Promise me this isn’t a waste of time.” She says, sighing.

“I promise I’m not wasting your time.” You tell her.

—

“If I were you, I’d put the guns down.” Finnick advised in a calm, collected voice. “It wouldn’t be a very good idea to kill us on the street, unless you want to alert the people we’re with, of course. It could give them a good running head start.”

There was a tense silence that passed between you and Finnick and the Peacekeepers that had just evacuated the truck, large guns in their hands. Although, it’s not entirely obvious through the playback, because your faces are hidden from the camera because of the angle it’s sitting at. You have a perfect view of the Peacekeepers, though.

“Who says we have orders to kill you?” The Peacekeeper shoots back. “We have orders from President Snow to take you by any means necessary.”

“That’s not a good idea, either.” Finnick’s voice is smug. You remember the smirk that was on his face. “If you try to take us by force, we’ll make sure our companions are aware you’re out here. Same cards dealt.”

You watch your past self shift nervously on her feet, shaking her head. Finnick doesn’t move from where he stands, arms still raised in the air. The Peacekeepers begin to create a half-circle around you two, because it was more important to bring some back to the mansion, instead of being empty handed.

“We can make a deal.” Finnick offered cooly, “If you’re willing to make one.”

“Like what?” The Peacekeeper humored him.

“I can tell you where you can catch all of us together.” He told them plainly. “We figured out there are too many Pods here on the street, because we have a device. We plan on going down into the sewers to evade the Pods. The best time to come and get us would be then, because it’s going to be a maze down there. And you’ll have the advantage.”

There’s a few gasps that fill the room you’re sitting in. Your face begins to twist, eyes focusing on the screen. Your past self lowers her arms, in the middle of realizing that Finnick is selling your group of friends out to save himself. And less importantly, you.

If only the people around you could see the horror that crossed your face in that moment. As you stood there hopelessly. It was too late to stop Finnick or save the situation. What could you do? Kill the Peacekeepers all by yourself? Claim Finnick was lying?

For six months, you’ve been blamed for being a bystander if what you were claiming about Finnick was true, but it was never that simple. They would stand there dumbfounded, too.

“As long as you don’t interfere before we get to the apartment and down in the sewers, we won’t tell the squad about this encounter.” Finnick told them, keeping control of the situation. He lowered his arms, but you didn’t dare to move, watching as he held out his hand to shake the Peacekeeper’s, wanting to seal the deal.

In complete silence, they shake hands. “Let’s pack up and roll back to Headquarters.” The main Peacekeeper told the others, not bothering to acknowledge the conversation he’d just had with Finnick.

The two of you stood there and watched as they all got back inside of the armored truck, before driving down the block. They took the soonest left, and disappeared out of sight completely. It wasn’t until you were sure that they were gone, did you lower your arms.

Finnick began to lead the way back to the apartment, a gentle hand on your lower back to guide you down the sidewalk. After five minutes of total silence, he cleared his throat. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The camera angle changes because you’re leaving the view of the first one, and the audio is getting quieter. There’s a gap of silence as the microphone struggles to pick up the conversation, meaning it misses your entire response. Which consisted of something snarky and along the lines of, “What about them?”

The audio comes back in time to catch Finnick. “Don’t say anything to them about what happened. It’ll screw everything up, and put us back into danger.”

You tear your eyes from the television, swiveling around in your chair to find Finnick sitting across the room. All the color has been drained from his skin, face dropped entirely as his truth spills out. And this is only the beginning.

Finnick’s eyes flicker over to yours, you see that they’re watery. A smile comes to your face when you shake your head at him. This won’t work on you. You have no sympathy for the man that lied and got you shunned from the community of your home district.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” You snapped at Finnick, disgusted. “They’re our friends, we’re supposed to be a team! We wouldn’t have made it this far without them!”

“This is what has to be done if you want to make it home.” Finnick told you. “We don’t have a choice. Now that they know where we’re going next, there’s no point in changing plans. The sewers are our best bet.”

“That’s not true anymore.” You seethed. “We’re over, Finnick. I can’t be with you.”

You raised your hand, waving him off when he tried to grab you. He let you take the first couple of steps away, and then loosely followed you from a distance to make sure he wouldn’t set you off. The camera follows you back to the apartment complex, where you go inside, and the feed ends.

You look around the room from person to person, finding most with solemn faces as they realize they trusted the wrong victor. President Paylor inhales, as if she’s going to speak, and then she lets it go with a shake of her head.

Even Plutarch has a grimace on his face, because this is not how they want to picture their darling Finnick Odair. After the sacrifice he made by telling Panem about his trauma, he should not be painted in this light.

“It’s not tampered with.” Beetee breaks the silence, adjusting his glasses. “If any of you were wondering. It couldn’t have been, this is raw footage straight from the Capitol’s systems.” He laces his fingers in front of him on the table.

“I want this aired.” You tell Paylor, she locks eyes with you. “I want the entirety of Panem to know that Finnick is the heartless asshole that sold out the Star Squad, and that it wasn’t me.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary.” She tells you.

“Why’s that?” You ask her, eyebrow twitching upward briefly.

“There was no harm done.”

A scoff leaves your mouth as you get to your feet, trying to be the same eye level as her, since she refused to sit in a chair. “No harm done?” You repeat. “Are you sure? His lies were aired on Katniss’s trial. Everyone in Panem was tuned in to hear it. He humiliated me, and none of you would fucking believe me when I told you the truth.”

“Unfortunately—“ Plutarch begins, trying to help Paylor.

“I got cast out of District Four, the place that I—“ You tap your fingers to your chest multiple times, “was born and raised in. My people think that I’m some monstrous traitor. They didn’t feel safe with me there. This whole time they’ve been sleeping beside a killer.” you spit.

“That’s enough.” Finnick says.

You point at him, eyes sharp. “You don’t get to decide when it’s enough. You’ve had plenty of chances—plenty of time—to come clean, and you know what you said? You told me, ‘It was the right move to make’. You make me fucking sick.”

Finnick raises his hands defensively. “You could’ve said something, yourself.”

“If I wasn’t so afraid that you were going to turn on me, too, I would’ve.” You snap. When you turn back to face Paylor, you tilt your head. “You sent me to District Two, where all your castaways go. There, I learned that my childhood home was burnt to the fucking foundation because they believed him.

“Would you consider that ‘no harm done’?” You ask her. “I didn’t get any of my belongings after the war, because you told me that my valuables weren’t urgent or important and that you’d ’get around to it’. I don’t have any pictures of my dead family, Paylor!”

The room is silenced again as you breathe heavily, trying to blink the rising tears from your eyes. You will not cry over this. You will not cry in front of any of them. They can’t see how desperate you are.

“I have the right to a trial.” You tell her, once the lump has left your throat. “And I want one. I want Finnick to be put on trial. His guidance murdered several members of the Star Squad.” You look at Finnick. “Messalla, Jackson, Castor, Homes and Leeg were lost in the sewers because of him.”

Haymitch, who’s standing in the very back corner, looking worse for wear, lets out a loud sigh. “She’s right. Finnick needs to be held accountable.”

“Thank you, Haymitch.” You relax.

Paylor looks down at the ground, closes her eyes and says, “Finnick Odair is now in the custody of the Capitol for his interference with Project: Mockingjay.”

“Paylor.” Finnick tries to reason, but her guards move forward immediately, cuffs in hand.

“I told you that you’d regret this.” You say to Finnick, his face twists. “Your actions have consequences, and it’s time you learn that.”

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smok3r7 · 9 months

Text

Christmas Getaway // One-shot

Joel Miller x Softball coach F!reader

Explicit, 18+

My series Masterlist & My Main Masterlist - My Ao3

Summary: You met Joel by coincidence. You picked up a little side job to be a high school softball coach for fun, and Sarah was one of your top players. Sarah introduces you to Joel after the first game and both of you hit it off immediately. The three of you grow closer throughout the year and end up spending the holidays together on a getaway trip. Joel treats you to a nice night.

Word count: 6k

Warnings: Age gap (28/40), NO outbreak AU, sexual tension, dry humping, oral (giving), fingering, possessive dirty talk, unprotected p in v, cream pie, squirting 2x, overstimulation, porn w/ plot, mutual pinning

—Hi babes🩷 I hope every one has a wonderful holiday season, I love you all! I’m thankful for you all who have given my writing a chance and I’m so thrilled to be putting out more for you guys! Hope you like this little personal piece I had😚

—

“GO ALL THE WAY SARAH!!” You scream as you frantically swing your arm in a circle telling her to not stop, second and third base are loaded and Sarah just hit a line-drive between second and third base which whizzed by shortstop AND the left-fielder. The two girls on base run home and Sarah is halfway to third when you hear a deep southern voice boom from your right, “GO BABY GO!!”

Too focused on Sarah to look at the mystery man, you notice an outfielder throwing the ball to the pitcher and Sarah just rounded third base. You’re sweating from the nerves and from the scorching Texas sun just beating down on you. The girls in the dugout behind you are incoherently screaming, the pitcher releases the ball to the catcher at home, however, Sarah is the fastest on the team! “SLIDE! SLIDE” you scream but there’s an echo to it, it’s the same smooth voice that makes you weak in the knees.

Sarah slides into home base and collides with the catcher, you wince as dirt and dust are all that’s visible to the naked eye. The cheers have turned into dead silence, the heavy breaths of players and family members is all that could be heard. All your team needs to win is this one run, Sarah’s run, otherwise it's a tie. Your heart is about to lunge out of your chest, you’re repeatedly muttering to yourself, “you got this girl! You so got it Sarah! You’re safe!”

The Umpire puts his hand up as he swats the cloud of dirt away from the air, you see Sarah’s body on the plate with the catcher on top of her but the ball isn’t in her hand, you smirk as you see the ball on the ground next to the catcher's head. The Ump swipes his hands and grunts, “SAFE”.

The crowd behind your players start to hoot and holler, your whole dugout roars and runs out to Sarah. But you’re the first one to her, as she stands up and throws her helmet to the ground next to her, “WE WON!” She shouts with almost a disbelief tone.

You pick her up in a hug and spin her once then set her back on her feet, “BECAUSE OF YOU SARAH!” She’s smiling ear to ear as she looks at you, by now the whole team is surrounding Sarah. The mixture of laughter, tears, and shrieks erupts from the team of teenagers. The first game of the season is off to a pretty good start, your body is warm on the inside as you see your players bounce with excitement.

“SARAH, SARAH, SARAH.” A chant echoes behind you, you turn and see the family of your girls entering the field with smiles and claps, but this one man in front sticks out to you. He’s wearing a fitting Texas Longhorn football T-shirt, that looks worn, with an orange & black flannel unbuttoned over it, a pair of dark blue jeans with what look to be work boots, but what catches your attention is his beautiful face. His short but curly chocolate and silver hair and his thick but kinda patchy beard, with his trademark brown eyes match together almost too perfectly.

“DAD! I DID IT!” Sarah breaks away from her teammates and sprints towards this man who you’ve been eyeing, and she practically knocks him to the ground as she jumps and wraps herself like a monkey around him like he’s a massive tree. “Yes you did baby girl! I’m so proud of you!” You hear him chuckle as he hugs her tightly, you don’t realize that you’re staring and smiling. Until Tiffany, one of your players, booty bumps your hip and whispers, “That’s Joel, Sarah’s dad. You two would be pretty cute together.” You laugh at her and tell her to knock it off, now turning and looking at your girls you yell, “Okay all my ladies, meet me in center-field!”

After praising the girls about how well they played today, you reminded them that the season will be tough and to not let today make them cocky, but to continue to learn and have fun with it! “RedHawks on three! ONE, TWO, THREE, REDHAWKS!” The huddle of the team yell in unison with their hands in the air! The girls all scatter to their belongings then to their families and as you’re walking back to the dugout to collect your things, you hear Sarah yell, “Hey coach! Wait up!” You turn around and see Sarah with Joel, Sarah wasting no time introducing you, “Coach this is my Dad, Dad this is my coach!”

“Nice to meet you…Sarah’s Dad” You reply with a chuckle, you reach your hand out to shake his, the large hand completely covering your small hand as he shakes and smiles, “It’s nice to meet you Sarah’s Coach!” And you two have hit it off since that moment in the middle of February, at your first game of the season.

—

It’s now mid December, the twenty-third to be exact, you and Joel have been officially dating since July. You still have your own apartment, which you rarely stay at now since Joel and Sarah begged that you stay with them, but you insist on having it available because you like having your own space once in a while, but you also want to have a backup just in case. Joel has brought up the idea of selling it but you refuse, only because this relationship is fresh and you don’t want to be stuck with nothing if it goes bad.

Especially with the holidays coming up, which always seemed to be the downfall for you. For example; Thanksgiving was boring like the last five years, until Joel and Sarah invited you over for their celebration with his family. You felt so loved, which you haven’t felt from your own family since they discovered you dropped out of college. They were not thrilled to hear that, you immediately became the disappointment of the family, even though your brother, who’s five years younger than you, had just had a baby out of wedlock. But somehow you still took the cake as the awful child, you didn’t care at this point, they were all pieces of shits anyway.

“What do you think darlin’?” Joel’s voice breaks your train of memories, you got so distracted you honestly don’t know what he and Sarah were just discussing. “Um, say that one more time, I'm sorry!” You reply as you take a sip of hot chocolate and set it on the table next to Joel, Sarah just made it for you all after Joel put dinner away. “We were talking about how we should go out to Tommy’s lake house for Christmas weekend, we’ll have to leave tomorrow, just so we can get away!” Sarah chirps from her seat on the other end of the couch from you and Joel, who are snuggled underneath a warm quilt blanket.

“Yes we so should! I’ll just have to stop by my place and grab some things!” You happily smile at Sarah, who is now jumping from her seat with joy. “YES! Finally another girl I can hang out with there!” The three of you laugh for a minute and she quickly says, “Wait…I’m gonna go pack!” She sprints upstairs before either of you can say anything. “That girl, she is something else.” Joel chuckles to himself as he takes a sip out of his navy coffee mug.

“Just like her father, always up to something.” You reply with a smirk as you lightly elbow his side, “Makes sense why you fit right in with us.” He whistles right back with no hesitation, that’s one thing you love about Joel, how he can come back with jokes and not be offended. You hum as you move in closer to his side, he lifts his free arm and puts it around your shoulder as you lean into him.

Looking around the living room, you feel fuzzy on the inside, almost like a little girl during Christmas. The decorated tree is filled with Sarah’s baby ornaments, Joel’s favorites, and now, with Joel and Sarah insisting, some of your own favorite ornaments. Your eyes then move to the fireplace and mantle, you were proud of yourself, Joel wasn’t much of a decorator, so you took the opportunity to spruce up his house more than just a tree and some lights.

You put a light blue cloth over the top of the white wooden mantle, a little over a dozen little trees in a couple clusters in each corner, and a string of white lights - this little touch made the fireplace and living room feel more festive, Joel and Sarah loved it.

“I think a getaway isn’t a bad idea,” Joel states, you two still looking at the tv which is playing a rerun of an SVU episode, “Tommy’s got a pretty cool spot about two hours out of town, he bought it for himself on his twenty-sixth birthday.” You’re looking up at him now, you love when he talks about his family, it makes you happy that he still talks with them.

“Well,” you start as you sit up and swing your leg over his hips so you’re now sitting on his lap and looking into his eyes, “If you insist,” even though you already decided to go in your head, you wanted to play with Joel a little bit, “I do have a hard time saying ‘no’ to you Miller.” You’re playing with the curls on the back of his neck as he wraps the blanket behind your waist and it’s so big that Joel has some draped by his legs.

His hands are resting on your thighs while his thumbs rub small circles on the inner part close to your purring pussy, causing drops of arousal to soak your panties, “Why would you want to say ‘no’ to a fun time?” Joel’s words flow out of his mouth like silk, you hate that he knows the effect he has on you, yet you couldn’t ask for anything better.

Your face heats up and you slowly roll your hips onto his cock, Joel chokes back a moan - honestly you had the same effect on him, which you loved. His eyes are locked on your covered cunt that is grinding on his restrained cock, you tug his face up by his hair and kiss him with teeth and tongue. “Dad do yo-“ Sarah walks around the corner and sees you two practically going at it, “Get a room you guys, jesussss.” She blinds her eyes with her hand and laughs as you scramble off Joel’s lap, almost falling onto the floor before Joel catches you.

“Weren't you packing?” Joel questions with a half serious, half joking tone to it as he pulls you back onto his lap, but now you’re laying on his chest. Sarah starts to rebuttal but Joel cuts her off and you can’t help but laugh at the situation, she just just caught her dad and he is slowly losing his patience. His hands are stroking your back which tells you, he wants you, bad.

“I was just gonna ask if we’ll be there just for the weekend or the week?” Sarah scoffs as stands there, “Just the weekend, the two of us still have jobs dear. Now go finish, we’ll watch a movie in a little bit.” Joel responds as he looks at her with a painful grin across his face, you can tell he is struggling to hold it together. “National Lampoon's??” Sarah chirps up, you look at her and go, “Duh!” She does a fist pump and a little ‘yessss’ as she runs away to her bedroom.

“Really? Lampoon’s?” Joel chuckles as he looks down into your eyes, “It’s only the best Christmas movie ever…besides the Grinch.” You remark as you put both hands flat on his chest and rest your chin on them and continue to talk about each movie. You honestly loved Lampoon’s and the Grinch, you grew up watching them and as you’ve gotten older, they’ve become a lot funnier.

Joel, still stroking your back, just looks at you as you rave about these two hilarious movies, you don’t notice but he’s in complete awe of you right now. In his mind he’s thinking about how you’re the one, the one for Sarah, and the one for him. You have him wrapped around your little finger and you don’t even notice it, Joel would do just about anything for you, he really does love you. He’s gonna make you his little wife someday, a mom to Sarah, and who knows, maybe a baby of your own with Joel.

“Hellooo?” You’re now waving your hands in front of his face, “Is Joel Miller in there?” You laugh at him staring into space, after you were done explaining your thoughts you had asked Joel what was his favorite, but all he did was stare at you when you asked. “Sorry darlin’, just got lost in thought. What did you ask?” He asks as he moves a piece of hair behind your ear, his warm touch on your face makes you melt. God you love this man so much, and he doesn’t even know the half of it.

You laugh as you ask him, “I asked what’s your favorite Christmas movie?” He throws his head back onto the couch and chuckles, “You’re gonna laugh, Sarah thinks it’s ridiculous.” You now wrap your arms around his torso and turn your head to listen to his heartbeat, “So what? I just went on and on about mine. I still wanna know yours.” You mumble as you take a whiff of him and you smile, he smells like a mix of hot chocolate, cinnamon, and sweat. You are actually addicted to the way he smells, you wish you could smell like him all the time, so everyone knows who you belong to.

“Well, I love the original Charlie Brown: Christmas. It was Sarah’s favorite when she was a toddler, it was on repeat all the time, so it’s just got a special place in my heart for my little girl, who’s not so little anymore.” Joel confesses with a hint of sadness towards the end of his sentence. Your smile fades a little bit at the bittersweet memory, but you still chime out, “I think that’s precious. We should watch it while we’re away, all three of us.”

Joel now has his muscular arms wrapped around your body and his lips on top of your head, he leaves a couple kisses then mumbles, “I would like that, more than you know.” You leave a couple kisses on his chest and you softly reply, “It’s a date then.” Joel hums in your hair and you two stay latched on to one another for what seems like eternity, both of you slowly putting each other to sleep by the rhythm of your breathing.

—

“Are we there yetttt?” Sarah drags out with a groan from the back seat of the truck, you roll your eyes and chuckle at her for, yet again, asking how much longer. The three of you are about ten minutes away from Tommy’s lake house, but Sarah has asked throughout the entire trip which ended up taking longer than two hours because of Christmas Eve traffic, but you can’t really be upset, she’s just really excited.

Joel, on the other hand, was getting very irritated each time she asked, only because he knows that Sarah has been here many times and knows how long it takes, even counting holiday traffic. You could obviously tell he was upset but Sarah had no idea just because she never sees her dad upset, what a blessing that is. “GPS says about ten minutes left until we’re there! You can wait just a little bit longer girl!” You turn around in the passenger seat and inform her before Joel lets out the irritation that now has turned to anger, out on Sarah, you understood his frustration but she doesn’t need to feel the wrath of it.

Sarah cheers and then puts her headphones back on and goes back to doing whatever she was doing on her phone, you chuckle under your breath and turn back around. “Thank you.” Joel mumbles as he puts his calloused, yet still soft, hand on your inner thigh closest to him, still looking out at the road in front of him. “Of course.” Is all you say as you stare out your window at the beautiful woods you’re driving through - you’re absolutely floored by the beauty of it all, you honestly didn’t know Texas had parts that looked like this. The last couple minutes of your drive are silent other than the radio playing random Christmas songs, you’re so excited to get away from the city for a weekend, the holidays even.

Joel makes a final right turn down a steep dirt track hill, which is bumpy to say the least, but it’s surrounded by the tall trees you’ve been enthralled with. Your stomach is in knots, you’re not sure why, probably just really excited for something out of your norm. “Well darlin’, welcome to the Miller family lake house.” Joel smoothly tells you as he makes a slight left turn and you finally see what these two have been raving about. “Holy shit.” Is all that comes out of your mouth, which drops at the sight of this magnificent home in front of you.

It’s almost like a fucking mansion, no it IS a mansion, it looks like it could be four homes in one. The beautiful dark gray paint and matching roof with cream colored shutters and gutters that match together perfectly are what initially draws you in, but what makes it, are the windows. The massive floor to ceiling glass throughout almost the whole home nearly brings tears to your eyes, It's so beautiful. You’re still breathless as Joel parks the truck and you step out the passenger seat, you strut down the couple steps in front of the house and walk down the dock that has a pontoon boat with two jet skis next to it.

You reach the edge of the dock and gaze out at the beautiful water that now starts at your feet and you catch how the sun setting casts a reflection that is just breathtaking. The sky is a mix of purples, pinks, and oranges that mix like a Bob Ross painting, it almost doesn’t seem real. A cool breeze blows by, making you wrap your lace black shawl tighter around yourself, not the best idea to wear shorts and a tank top.

Turning your head to the right, you notice there’s even a little section of beach that looks to be on Tommy’s side of the property. There’s a line of lake houses on either side of his, but this one was the only one that stuck out to you. You can't believe that Tommy bought this, or even that you’re allowed here.

Suddenly, a pair of hoodie covered arms wrap around your waist and a familiar scratch of a beard cradles in your neck, you lean back into the known touch and hum. “What do you think?” He asks between warm kisses to your soft spot, “It’s- I’m-,” still at a loss for words on how this is possible, you stutter, “This place is incredible.” Joel’s warm breaths on your neck from him chuckling sends a shiver down your spine, the tiniest things he does have such an impact on you. “I’m glad you’re able to be here, I love that Sarah and I can share this with you.”

You open your mouth to thank him for being so generous to you, but before you can, Sarah’s loud voice from the house behind you yells, “You two love birds gonna come help or what?!” You look up at Joel and you both start to die of laughter, Sarah always had this timing, every damn time. In your fit of laughter he ends up turning you around and deeply kisses you, causing your laughter to come to a halt. You kiss him back with intensity, so much so that your mind convinces you that you two are the only things floating in space right now. You truly love this man, you love everything he does to and for you - Joel is everything you’ve been looking for.

Joel pulls away from your lips with a pop, leaving you feeling dizzy and hungry for more. Staring into each other's eyes and foreheads resting on the others, Joel coos, “We should probably go help before she gets bitchy with us.” This makes you throw your head back and laugh, “Fucking teenagers.” Joel puts his arm over your shoulder and you two walk back towards the truck to unload the gifts and your luggage. “Fuckin teenagers is right my dear.” He repeats your words with a chuckle in his chest that echoes across the top of the water.

—

After the three of you emptied the truck of your belongings and you all picked which room to stay in, you had made dinner. Sarah put in a special request for your classic breakfast for dinner, cinnamon french toast with sausage and bacon, something so simple but delicious. You had the time of your life cooking, the kitchen was actually insane, the white marble countertop made your knees weak, the tall white cabinets that matched the drawers on the island made you drool. The sink and stove was a stunning stainless steel with gold trim, this place was literally your dream home.

Dinner had been made and put away, Joel cleaned up the kitchen while you and Sarah put simple lights on the tall tree that was in the spacious living room. It was around two AM by the time she was satisfied with how the tree looked with the lights and presents underneath, you three decided to plop down on the white leather couch and turn on “A Charlie Brown Christmas”.

After the movie finished, you notice Joel and Sarah smiling ear to ear. “Good idea on watching this dad, definitely a good one. But I’m gonna go out on the beach for a little bit before bed,” Sarah announces as she gets up from the couch, “Love you guys and Merry Christmas.” She kisses the top of your head then Joel’s, you can’t believe it. “Love you too.” Joel and you both repeat in a heartbeat as you turn your head to look at her, she’s smiling at you as she opens the slider and walks outside.

“Did you hear that?” Your ears perk up from the voice next to you, you smirk as you turn your attention back to Joel, getting nose-to-nose with him and you whisper, “She said it!” His large hands are running up and down your thighs that lay over his perpendicularly, still staring down one another and giggling, he swiftly picks you up bridal style and starts to head for your guys bedroom for the weekend.

—

Joel’s leaving kisses to your neck as he climbs the white oak staircase and rounds the corner, his beard scraping that sweet spot that makes you crave more as he passes the bathroom and reaches the dark brown wooden door. He smoothly turns to his side and pushes the door open, you’re greeted with the smell of cinnamon and a woodsy kind of scent which makes you feel right at home. “Now,” Joel starts as he sets you down on the firm mattress, pulls his black tshirt off, and stands between your legs, you’re now eye level with his cock - mouth salivating as you see how hard he is for you.

“You’re gonna be a good girl for me, right?” Joel seductively asks as his right hand grips your chin and makes you look up at him. “Yes sir.” You purr as you set either hand on his thighs, just starving to get a taste of him in any way. He bends down, still gripping your chin, and plants a needy kiss on your lips, but before you can reciprocate, he pulls away and stands back up now letting go of you, “It’s all yours then darlin’.”

A smirk grows on your cheeks as your hands leave his thighs and onto his belt, you excitedly undo it, his jeans unzipping and falling to the ground not far behind. Only his dark green boxers hold his throbbing cock from your watering mouth, you glance back up to his face and Joel has this smirk where he looks like he’s gazing at an angel. Knowing that he’s looking at you like this, makes your pussy flutter and arousal drip into your panties. Still sitting on the bed and looking up at him, you slowly move your head closer to his cock and leave kitten kisses along the outline, causing him to jump and let a moan crawl out his throat.

“Quit playing games sweetheart.” He threatens under his breath, you leave one more kiss at the tip which is peaking above his waistband, causing a shot of pre-cum across his slit. Before he can say anything else, you slide his boxers down his thick thighs and watch as his cock bounces onto his tummy, his pre-cum leaving his happy trail wet. You spit into your palm and softly grab his leaking, red-flushed cock letting a big drop of spit fall from your mouth onto his tip and you start to stroke him. “Mhmm” Joel hums above you, you love when he’s vocal, gives you a boost of confidence in yourself.

After a few strokes, you put your hot mouth centimeters away from his pleading cock, you slowly bring your other hand underneath to lightly jostle his balls at the same time you slide him in your mouth. Causing whimpers to escape Joel’s mouth, your jaw having to unhinge so he can fill you completely, drool is spilling from the corners of your cock-filled mouth. “Oh yeah- that’s my pretty girl. Taking all my cock like the good girl she is.” Joel moans as he starts to rock his hips into your face, his cock now hitting the back of your throat which makes you gag on him, but that doesn’t stop you or Joel. Tears start to fill your eyes and roll onto your cheek, but from pure pleasure, you love when Joel fucks your face and uses you however he wants.

Both of your hands back on his thighs to steady yourself as he fucks your mouth and groans, “Love when you’re stuffed with my cock, makes you dumb in the head afterwards.” After a few more pumps he drags himself out of your mouth, a string of saliva connecting your plump lips to his throbbing tip as you pull away. You are in a complete daze, Joel was right, you are dumb in the head afterwards.

“Look at you, cock-drunk just off of that.” Joel taunts from above, you tilt your head up while leaning back on your hands and you bark back, “Is that right sir?” Before you finish your sentence, Joel is on top of you, ripping your tank top off of you and your bra right after, then his warm mouth is smothering your tits with bites and kisses. Your moans echo off the walls in your enclosed bedroom, both of your legs bent to allow Joel to slide your panties and shorts off.

Your hands search for any part of Joel so you can scratch or pull something, you want to leave reminders of tonight on his skin. “Look at you. My pretty girl is all wet for me already, does sucking me off turn you on that much?” Joel growls as he brings his fingers to your slit, he swipes two of his fingers starting from your asshole and ending at your clit. This gets you every time, your body does a slight shake from the sudden contact on your pussy. “Fuck!” You cry out as your back arches off the sheets under you, “Yeahhh…you love it.” Joel huffs as he brings his fingers back to your throbbing cunt, he circles your clit, then his middle and ring finger tease your pulsating hole.

“C’mon baby, I need you so bad.” You plead with him as you look in his eyes over your warm face and bring your hands to scratch his beard. Your hips are thrusting into his fingers to try to get him deeper, but Joel chuckles at you and goes, “That’s what you get for teasing me sweetheart.” You groan out of frustration at him and not being filled by Joel. You’re about to whine some more until your walls suddenly feel full as Joel’s fingers spread you open, his fingers hit deeper than your own ever could. “Yes. Yes.” You whisper over and over into his mouth as you hold his face to yours, Joel just smirking as you crumble into pieces in his hands.

As Joel continues to work his fingers in your tight cunt, you get this sudden urge to pee, you start to panic a bit, “Baby, stop - I think I’m gonna pee.” But Joel doesn’t let up, you're trying to claw away from him but his hold on you is too strong. “Joel - FUCK!” You sob when all of a sudden you arch your back and tilt your head back, you feel this gush release out of you and Joel is still working his fingers as clear liquid flies all over. You’re crying from the pleasure but also the pain from him circling your clit slowly, as he purrs, “That’s my girl, look at you. Making a mess on my fingers.”

Trying to catch your breath you laugh, “Holy fuck…I’ve never done that before..” Joel laughs with you as he rubs your skin from your thighs to your neck, “I’m gonna have to get you to do that more often.” Your ears are ringing as you hum in agreement, not being able to answer Joel with words. You lay there with your eyes closed trying to recoup yourself, as you hear him chuckle, “Woww, my girl is calling it quits already?”

One thing about yourself that Joel loves, is how cocky you get in bed, you always talk the biggest game yet, you’re usually the first one to tire out - you never quit though. Your eyes shoot open and you see his face inches away from yours, “I am not a quitter.” you confidently bark. “I didn’t think so.” Joel kisses you tenderly, you both moan into each other.

Still sensitive, you jolt as you feel Joel lineup his pulsating cock to your spent cunt, “A little jumpy huh?” Joel, drunk on your scent, says, “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you darlin’.” Your fingers dig into his skin leaving crescent moons on his shoulders as he splits you open with his cock, you shout at the sudden intrusion in your sore pussy. “Oh sorry, did I say care?” Joel grunts as he finds a rhythm, which is a pounding kind of rhythm.

There’s so much you want to tell him but you physically can’t, all that leaves your throat are mixed whimpers and moans. “You like when I use you like a toy, don’t cha darlin’?” Joel bites as he grabs one of your peaked nipples and starts to pinch it, this causes you to yelp and that sensation creeps back into your body, your walls start to squeeze his cock. “Ooh, someone likes it, I feel your tight pussy suffocating me baby.” Joel growls and he brings his other hand between your bodies, stopping right above your aching clit. “Let me hear you say please, then you can let it all out sweet girl.” You hate when he does this, because he knows a part of you physically can’t speak, but you’ll be damned if he wins this time.

His cock then hits your cervix in a way that makes you holler, “please baby, please! Let me cum, pleaseee!” His fingers immediately fall to your clit and he rubs small yet effective circles, that’s all that it takes for your orgasm to rip out of you. Your voice breaks and your body goes stiff as liquid spills out of your cunt again,“That’s my gi-“ Joel chokes as he cums with you in your velvet walls. Joel’s body slumps on top of yours as you groan from his weight crushing you, “Get off meee.”

Joel laughs into your chest and rolls over on his side of the bed, as he catches his breath he jokes, “What? You don’t like being crushed?” You slap his chest and tell him to shut up, he chuckles as he gets up, puts his boxers back on and walks over to your side of the bed with his arms out. You just look at him, unable to speak from the two orgasms he pulled out of you, he shakes his head and coo’s, “C’mon darlin’, get you to the bathroom while I change the sheets.”

Grabbing Joel’s hands, you almost fall over as your feet hit the wood floor but Joel is right there to grab you. “Don’t even say it.” You sternly say to Joel, who is smiling like a kid with candy. He brings you to the bathroom connected to the bedroom, sits you on the toilet and walks back out to grab you a shirt to wear to bed. He walks back in with one of his shirts and slips it on you, he kisses your lips and walks back to the bed to change the sheets. You begin to pee, and you lean forward with your elbows digging into your thighs and your hands hold your intoxicated head up as your eyes close and a smile grows on your face as you sit there waiting for Joel to bring you back to bed.

Joel clearing his throat makes you open your eyes and you see him leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed with this loving look on his face. You show your teeth with a big smile, put your arms up, and playfully whine, “Hi babyyy!” He just shakes his head and laughs at how cute you are after sex, “Hi sweetheart, you ready for bed?” You hum in agreement and nod your head, ready to lay in his arms again. Joel walks over to you, helps you stand, and walks with you to the bed with fresh gray sheets.

You slide in and get right underneath the comforter as Joel slides in next to you, he then pulls you in between his legs as you lay on your stomach with your head on his chest and your arms wrapped around his torso. He starts to stroke your back with his soft fingertips, his heart beat calm and finding the rhythm with yours, “Merry Christmas beautiful. I love you entirely.” Joel whispers into your hair with a kiss, you smile and somehow muster out, “Merry Christmas Joel, I love you more.” You feel his chest flutter from your words to him, you smirk as the two of you fall into a deep sleep.

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