#and it's not only christmas. my birthday less than two months after
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it's that time of year again when people ask me what i want for christmas & i'm just there thinking "i don't know who i am!!! wahhhh!!!!!"
#and it's not only christmas. my birthday less than two months after#can't ask them back what part of me they're asking about either#i'm like three people in one body#neurodivergent#neurodetergent#plurality#<- i'm using this tentatively#i haven't been diagnosed with anything and frankly i'm a bit scared to go get one#xmas
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there is no feeling worse in the world than missing your grandma :/
#she died two months before my eighth birthday#and every time i realize i’ve lived well over half my life without her i go a little bit insane bc that just doesn’t feel right#like soooo many of my favorite memories are with her how is it possible she was only in my life for less than eight years#my grandpas on both sides died before i was born so all i’ve ever had is my grandmas#and there’s also the horrible guilt i feel all the time knowing my other grandma is still alive but i rarely ever see her#but when i was a kid she lived an hour and a half away from us and this grandma lived around the corner#so we saw her all the time and every christmas fourth of july etc that whole side of my extended family would all go to her house#she moved into that house when my mom was 2 years old and lived there for the rest of her life so 40 years#and when she went into hospice care her one request was to die in that house surrounded by her kids and grandkids so that’s what happened#my parents bought the house after she died but we lived there for less than 2 years before moving to arizona#they’re both from colorado but they met in arizona and me and my sisters were born here#and the main reason we moved back to colorado in the first place was to be near her#but when we moved again my parents sold the house to our neighbors who had two daughters that my sisters and i grew up with#and they’re still our family friends to this day and we used to go on trips to national parks together every summer#we didn’t see them for maybe five years but then two summers ago their older daughter got married and we went to her wedding#which got us talking about how long it had been since our last trip so we went on another one last summer#this has turned into a tangent but it just makes me so happy that they’re still in our lives#and this great family we’ve known almost my entire life is living in my grandma’s house#she had a pool in her backyard which is super common here in az but not so much in colorado#and she let us invite these girls over all the time to swim so they grew up spending almost as much time in that house as we did#last time we were in colorado we went to have dinner with them and swim and it was like being transported back to my childhood#that house is just so special to me and i felt so blessed to be able to go back there since this family bought it instead of strangers#in a perfect world everything would align in a way that would let me buy it when i’m older and have my own family there#i’ve never had a strong attachment to any other house we’ve lived in but that one will always be my grandma’s house in my mind#i just love and miss her so much she was the most amazing grandma i ever could have asked for#my mom still has a lot of her childhood friends on facebook and whenever she would post pictures of me and my sisters as kids#everyone would comment that i looked exactly like my grandma did when she was a kid and that makes me so so happy#anyway. idk. i just miss her sm she was an angel and i’m so happy she was such a big part of my childhood#lj.txt
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Candles
Part 5 to Best Man Series. follow Christmas Party.
Joel Miller x F!Reader, Tommy Miller x F!Reader
Summary: It's Tommy's birthday. So why are you still looking for Joel to celebrate it?
notes: Its been 4 months but here's the next part for those of you still waiting on since December! The next part will most likely be the finale.
Warnings: unprotected sex (with Tommy), infidelity / cheating, pregnant reader, toy usage, dildo riding, breeding kink, oral m!receiving (with Joel), m!masturbation, short voyeurism, vaginal fingering, cum eating, jealous!Joel, emotions are FLLYYINNGGG in this one
18+ ONLY
- - - -
Joel Miller doesn’t get jealous.
He’s at home, drifting off in thought as his hands do poor work on wrapping paper around the new pair of shoes and watch that he picked out. When Sarah, who’s focus is on brushing her doll’s hair and changing her bathing suit, starts yapping about how Uncle Tommy's kid is gonna be her best friend since she doesn't have any siblings to play with right now, all Joel can think about is you and Tommy together right now on his special day.
What would it be like, waking up to you in a shared bed every day? To be the first to kiss you, smell your morning breath and sift his fingers through your bed head? To see your eyes shine from the sun reflecting off of them, twinkling with the buildup of a tear after a yawn.
What would it be like, getting a birthday blow job from you first thing in the morning? Even if you aren’t his wife, he’s thought about getting to have you all the time, just for him. He doesn’t get jealous of Tommy very often, because Joel Miller doesn’t get jealous, but he tuts at the idea that your mouth wrapped around his cock is a sight he gets to behold more often than Joel ever will.
What would it be like, to not have to sneak around? To just have you loudly, unashamed, sloppily, proudly, the way you deserve, without constantly checking behind your back? To capture your lips in front of everyone like it were normal, to hold your pregnant belly like it was his, because damnit it might as well be.
It drives him insane he can’t mark you up the way Tommy can, less the two of you be caught in your affair. All he can do is pound you better, ruin you some more, and fill you with his seed.
As if the last one hadn’t already reared its consequences in your growing belly. You’re too beautiful, too full of something special to be kept to one guy.
Still. He’ll only ever be second to Tommy.
What would it be like … to call you his?
“Dad…Dad!”
“What!”
Joel looks down at Sarah who’s got her hands on her hips and a stern look about her face.
Jesus, she really does spend too much time with me.
“The door,” she repeats, pointing downstairs. On cue, the doorbell chimes again.
He grunts as he lifts himself to his feet, brushing her head messily with his big palm before hopping down to answer.
It’s his dad.
“How old ya gotta be to leave your old man standin’ outside in the cold?”
Joel rolls his eyes, shifting to allow his father through the front. “It’s 79 degrees out.”
“Cold for my old bones,” he groans, feinting a shiver. “Share-Bear!”
Sarah bulldozers straight to his abdomen and wraps her arms in a big hug.
Joel lightly tugs on one of her curly strands and she yelps “ow!”
“Go upstairs and get changed.”
She barrels upstairs to her room, leaving Joel and Miller senior.
Joel continues tossing a bunch of tape on to the sad excuse of a gift before crinkling all the paper up and tossing it. He moves to search for a gift bag in the closet instead.
His dad sighs loudly. “Tommy sure got a nice beat goin’ for ‘im.”
“Sure does,” Joel notes, his attention more on the shoving past the vacuum.
“Good house, good job, kid on the way. A pretty gal.”
Joel closes the closet and turns towards his dad. “What’s your point, pops?”
“You know my point. He’s got it all together. You...”
“Me what? You don’t think I ain’t doin good on my own?”
“You shouldn’t have to be on your own. Sarah’s mom wasn’t...we knew she wasn’t gonna stick around. Its tough havin’ a kid to raise by yourself—“
“I wouldn’t trade my babygirl in for anything else in the world,” Joel snaps quickly. His eyes dart upstairs briefly. Its a conversation he hates when his dad brings up, especially when Sarah could just be lurking around the corner.
“Im not sayin’ that but.” Grandpa Miller shakes his head and takes a seat at the island. “Kid needs a mom. You need a woman. Someone to hold and kiss and make promises to. Someone to love.”
Joel drops the now filled bag on the countertop. I have that already. It’s just—complicated. “There a reason you stopped by? Other than to lecture me?”
His father grunts apathetically. “Just came by for some wrapping paper, but by the looks of it—“ He glances at Joel’s empty tape roll and bunched up pile of ribboned paper—“Guess I’ll go down to the store to get some.”
“Well you know where the door is.”
His dad follows Joel to his open front door to show him out. One aging father and one rapidly aging eldest son look at each other with a sense of sadness.
“Joel—“
“I’ll see you at Tommy’s.”
-
If you weren’t so pregnant, waking up before Tommy would have been so much easier to give him a blow job.
Instead. It’s half past 9, and you’re just rousing to consciousness. Fully well knowing Tommy has probably been awake for at least an hour but faking it just so he can wake up with you.
“Good morning birthday boy,” you grumble groggily, a soft smile spreading across your cheeks as you pull him in for a peck.
He grins and wraps himself around you. “Mmm Good Morning, little Momma. Ya know what I want for my birthday?”
You did know. He dropped hints like crazy and you already had it ready to go by your nightstand.
The thing about Tommy is…Tommy likes watching. It’s something you figured out when you were already dating after a year. Something about watching you touch yourself, spreading your legs on the bed and fucking yourself with a dildo, or grinding on his pillow and moaning as he stroked his cock from across the room, has him leaking in his palm with dirty words of encouragement.
And even with a hefty baby in your belly, his view of you bouncing on top of the sizable dildo was no different.
“Fuck, fuck that’s it angel. Takin’ that dick so good. Bet it feels good, huh?” He grips his balls with his palm while the other fists over his dick. Sitting upright in your makeup chair, fully naked and facing the bed, he gets a view of everything. His hungry eyes never once leave your body.
You nod. Your knees hurt, but the sight of Tommy’’s heart shaped eyes watching your milky breasts bounce, your lips spread to accomodate the girth of the silicon cock has you smiling for your deserving husband.
“It’s—not as easy with the bump…” you say fretfully. You feel like shit, not being able to give him the show that he wanted on his birthday. It’s a lot more difficult to angel and thrust a stick into you when there’s a planet blocking your view.
Tommy hoists himself up quickly, jerking his cock as he approaches you. He tosses the dildo and crawls over you before veiny hands caress along your hips, over your belly and squeezing your tits. “S’okay, little Momma. ‘m’here now. Daddy’s gonna make it better.”
You grasp his face with both hands and grin, pulling his lips to yours. At the same time, he slides his leaking member into your folds, forcing a grunt in the back of both of your throats as he bottoms out.
“Happy fuckin’ birthday to me,” he growls, fucking you steadily with deep strokes. “I get my one birthday wish today. Thinking’ I’m gonna leave a little present in this pussy. Have ya walk around all day with a lil bit of me inside.”
You laugh and gently tap your belly. “There’s a bit more than a ‘little’ bit of you inside me already.”
His stomach rumbles with a a chuckle. “That’s for everyone else to know who ya belong to. Nah, I’m talkin something just between you n me.” His arm holds himself above you as he rocks his hips with shallow ruts. “Shit, shit, ya gonna take it f’me? Gonna take my present on my fuckin’ birthday?”
You let out a high pitched whine, neck convulsing backwards as your cunt starts tightening around his length.
Tommy locks your lips to his, tongue’s messily rolling into one another’s mouth. A string of saliva connect between the two of you when he pulls away, only for him to rub it against your breast.
“Tommy,” you moan desperately. You’re close, you’re about to tell him so: “I—“
“I love you,” he rasps. His eyes are shut tight as he finds that sweet spot inside, sending you over the edge before you can finish your thought.
He thrusts a few more times before stilling. His balls twitch with satisfaction, each grunt from his chest echoing the spurts of his seed inside you. He feels at peace when he can be this close to you, his hand warm against your tight tummy and his soon-to-be kids.
His soon to be complete family.
His words rattle in your ears. You feel the opposite of light and airy after an orgasm. No, everything is heavy. Your head feels like a boulder stuck to the pillow. Yet empty. Your body so full yet feeling incredibly hollow right now.
Tommy kisses your lips once more, not noticing the way you don't return the vervor. He sits up, wipes the sweat from his brows and slaps your thigh.
“You okay? Fucked ya a little too hard, baby momma?” He snickers.
You fake a laugh, hoping he’ll see you’re feeling exhausted rather than suspect anything is wrong.
Your husband kisses your forehead with a whisper “Stay in bed, you rest as long as ya need,” before walking towards the bathroom and closing the door behind him.
I love you. It should have made you feel surrounded by him. Comforted, secure, proud, inseparable, sound, cherished, warm, fuzzy, happy, truthful, light. Your husband confessing his love to you.
Instead, it only reminded you of the dream had about Joel again last night.
Joel in your house. Joel in your bed. Joel dropping Sarah off at school and feeding your newborn with her bottle. Joel cooking in your backyard, Joel’s hands entwined with yours on a walk. Joel rubbing your shoulders and whispering sweet nothings in your ear. Joel kissing your cheek and telling you he lo—
You cover your face with the back of your hands. Tommy’s the one in your bed. Tommy holds your hand and kisses your cheek, and will be feeding and burping your baby, will be there for you forever and always because that’s what you promised to each other.
You hold the ring on your finger up high in the air, its dazzling shimmer glints in your eyes. Your eternal promise, displayed on something so small yet so permanent, wrapped up in such a beautiful band.
The same ring that Best Man Joel carried in his pocket safely for months before you swore yourself to his brother.
You curse under your breath.
You’re still going to have to see him today.
-
He watches you crowd over Tommy seated at the head of the table, your hands lovingly on his shoulders. He thinks about his “one wish” for a while, but he only looks sideways towards you, holding your gaze for a moment before he confidently blows his candles. The room erupts in a rumble of cheers and clapping, but Tommy and you are only smiling at one another. He grabs your face and kisses you, smearing some icing on your nose. You laugh with him and rub it along his own, the two of you giddy and in your own world.
Joel Miller doesn’t get jealous.
And when you slice into the cake, nobody really understand why the cake is split between a blue and pink center. Everyones thinking the same thing--we already did the baby shower, it was going to be a girl!
“We might...have found out…there's gonna be another one,” you say sheepishly, your hands rollings over the heft of your larger than life belly that surprisingly has two little bubbas growing inside.
Twins. you're having fucking twins.
Tommy grasps your face and smears more icing on you, the two of you locking lips again and getting a little too pg-13 in a room full of raucous screeches that feel like nails on a chalkboard, shuffling chairs like a thunderous stampede. Everyone rushes to congratulate the two of you, how your lives are really starting, how exciting it must all be, what names you’ve been thinking of, its its everything you’d hoped it would be.
Joel Miller doesn’t get jealous.
Tommy knew, of course he did. Both of you planned it, to announce it like that. He’s got that smug look on his face, nothing of surprise. Just absolutely elated to share news that had been sitting on the two of you for who knows how long. Something Joel used to always get firsthand word from. You’re having twins. And he’s learning about it for the first time, same as everyone else. Tommy’s friends pat him on the back. Aunts kiss his cheek and even his dad smiles towards his youngest son’s success, all while the whole time, his ringed hand hasn’t left the curve of your swollen womb.
Joel Miller doesn’t get jealous.
He slips out the back of the room, everyone too engrossed in surrounding the happy couple. Nobody cared for Joel’s presence, not since the minute Tommy was born. Nobody would bat an eye for his absence today too.
…
You’re excited, you want to celebrate, and having everyone touching and surrounding you and asking questions wasn’t the way you wanted it. That’s why it was supposed to be during Tommy’s birthday, so there was something else to focus on.
But your body is on edge. It was attention from all that thrill. Jittery and warm under your palms.
Between your legs.
It’s hard to force Joel out of your mind whenever he’s in the same room. So when he dips out of the kitchen without making any gesture towards you, you didn’t hesitate to excuse yourself for a bathroom break. Nobody questions it, continuing their swarm around Tommy now who’s too eager for all the attention to really notice.
You don’t know what you expect from Joel. You don’t even know why you’re seeking him right now, and not standing by your husband’s side. You love Tommy. He’s everything to you.
So why is there still this half of you that feels… like you need more?
Maybe your body is thinking on her own accord now, and that’s been a problem that needs to end. No. No you just wanted to talk. That’s all. He's your brother-in-law, for fucks sake. it’s natural you want to hear his thoughts. He’s gonna be a double uncle! He deserves a congratulations! Hope he’ll tell you congratulations too. Acknowledge it in some way. That its happening. That you and Tommy—are just you and Tommy.
You wonder where the older Miller may have gone in such a small house. Sarah was still in the room, sneaking cake since nobody else seemed to care to slice it up, so where on earth—?
A callused palm wrap around your mouth and pulls you backwards into the dark bathroom, the door closing you inside with him warm and pressed tightly against your back.
“Shhhhhhhhh,” he whispers. The warmth of his breath makes you shiver, all the way down to the dampness spreading along your panties. Fuck. What was it about just ‘talking’ to him again?
“J-Joel,” your voice wavers cautiously. “I—“
“You still gonna keep pretending you don’t want me?”
You face him as he turns the lights on and the two of you are caught in one another’s grasps. There’s a moment where you size him up, and he wonders if you’ll bluff his pass.
Instead, Like magnets that can’t resist their attractions, your instincts overwhelm you. Your eager fingers dig into the back of his neck and smash his lips against yours. The traces of icing still linger on your lips and tongue, the two of you devouring one another, fighting to get the last lick before coming apart to breathe.
Joel just smirks, his tongue swiping over his puffy lower lip. “Sweet,” he hums. His thumb brushes the bit of icing you didn’t know was still on your nose and puts it in his mouth. “How somethin’ so sweet come from someone so naughty?”
You quickly drop to a squat and roughly shove his hips back against the sink. Nimble fingers working swiftly to unbuckle his jeans and shove them down to his thighs.
You’re both panting through swollen lips, heart rate moving a lot quicker than the activities you’ve so far done would permit. He’s gorgeous like this—illuminated by the harsh florescent light above, his sincere, albeit sinful, smile and rosy cheeks watching you kiss his hardened length.
He doesn’t force you. Doesn’t do anything to make you feel concerned. In fact, you’ve cornered him against the vanity, forcing yourself between his bent knees and inserting his tip to your wet mouth.
“Beautiful,” he whispers softly. His thumb strokes over your cheek as you guide more of his leaking cock into your mouth until it hits the back of your throat. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you, not even to blink.
Your head bobs eagerly, swallowing around him. There’s just something about that huge dick of his that has you going feral. An itch you can’t scratch until his cum is either nested safely in your stomach or your womb. Maybe it’s because you’ll never be able to get rid of him. He’ll be around forever, and that means you can keep seeing him and his beefy horse cock forever. Forbidden yet yours for the taking. Every day if you wanted.
The sounds of the party outside feel so remote compared to the events happening in such a little room right now. Just between you and Joel.
The babies ain’t quite here yet so just you and Joel.
“Pretty pretty angel, sucking’ Daddy’s cock like that. What would your husband think? Suckin’ his big brother off in your house? I’d tell ‘im you got to your knees all by yourself. Little slut couldn’t wait for it. Second she saw me, needed my fat cock stretchin’ her throat, ain’t that right? Needed me to give ya something today too? Just that selfish, aren’t ya?”
You pull off his cock with a big gasp, smiling lazily. He slaps his cock against your open tongue with thick and wet patpatpats.
He tsks you. “Pregnant gal, on her knees, takin’ cock like a slut. What a woman you are, little momma.”
You hum in approval, the drunken desire for Joel to fill your every senes clogging your brain.
Soft lips enclose around his tip again and he thrusts forward this time, holding his cock deep. You try to remember to breathe through your nose, even with his hairs tickling your lashes, but Joel pulls back enough to just his tip, and sets a gentle rhythm back and forth.
Joel’s head falls back against the mirror. His eyelids feel heavy each time he looks down to you. So full and rounded by a child—two children…if they're his, Joel’s having another daughter and his first son.
“Told ya you were made from breedin’. You’re gonna be like this the rest of ya life. Gonna put another baby in ya, then another—” he chuckles to himself, “N’another—havin’ ya suck cock not remember what number baby ya got growing’ in ya belly.”
He hisses through his teeth as you suck his member in and out, picking up pace. Your tongue works over his tip with each swipe, hand jerking off the base of his dick that you can’t fit. Any saliva and precum is immediately suckled and swallowed, leaving no evidence at the scene.
You’d gotten pretty good at that.
Joel’s beefy paw grasps the porcelain edge behind him as he hisses through his teeth. His stomach tenses, the veins in his v’line straining and you know he’s close.
You alternate between sucking his balls and jacking off his cock above you. “What if I busted all over that pretty face? Have ya walk around your house with my cum on those lashes as everyone told ya what a cock hungry whore you are.”
You moan around him, your pussy so slicked between your thighs that it’s dripping down your pants. Its wrong. Fuck, you’re so wrong to want it. Want Tommy to see who’s marking you up, see how much you’d spread your pussy for Miller cock no matter if its your husbands his brothers.
His cock finds its way to your mouth again, and he starts thrusting lightly.
“Swallow it, swallow it all. Want ya hesitatin’ to kiss Tommy after this. Knowin’ ya got my spunk in your mouth still. Fuck me babydoll, mouth’s a dream.”
His jaw drops low as he cums, and god what a sight. Your cunt throbs as he lets out pained breaths into the air, ready to cum if you were able to touch yourself right now.
You gulp down his salty load, lips suctioned to his tip and milking him clean to avoid any messes that might linger.
“That’s a good slutty wife,” he whispers down to you. Even on your knees, the heft of your pregnant belly is doing wonders to him.
You lazily grin up to his smug grin. He knows you like showing him just how good you are at swallowing loads, like a good wife always does.
He pulls his softened cock out of your mouth, and you gasp a big breath of air, your hands still clinging to his thighs.
You feel his protective hands hoist you up to your feet.
“Anything hurt?” He asks gently, holding your body flush against him as he rubs your tummy and hips. He feels much less tense than just moments ago when he pulled you in the bathroom with him.
You shake your head. It’s not the first time you’ve gone down on a man while 30 pounds heavier with a baby. Your knees are a bit sore, but it’s nothing compared to the ache you’ve been feeling in your back for months now.
You try to pull away from Joel, but his arm is wrapped tightly around you.
“Didn’t think you were pullin’ me in here just to suck me off. Why are you actin’ like this little snatch is happy from that?”
“I didn’t pull you—you pulled me,” you correct.
“You came lookin’ f’me. And you got on your knees all by yourself.”
His hands caress lower down your hip, gliding along your leggings towards your crotch. It should be wrong, the way your hand closes around his wrist to guide him closer, his digits dipping below the waistline and down your panties.
He feels it: the soft squelch of your slick in your ruined underwear, pulsing madly. He grins and lets out a satisfied yet devious ‘ooooh there we go’ against your cheek.
But there’s more. More dripping from here than he’s given you just from the thrill of sucking his cock.
He pushes his middle finger past your entrance and fingers out the glob of cum that had been deposited inside you earlier today.
“It’s —it’s Tommy’s birthday,” you moan, as if he needed an explanation as to why your husband’s seed is dripping out of your pussy. “Had—to give him—ooohhhhuugggg—his…gift—“
He continues to finger fuck you slowly, his younger brother’s cum practically pooling in your underwear. “Got one man’s cum in your mouth and a different one’s in ya pussy." He shakes his head. when he gets you like this, sometimes he would forget that you’re Tommy’s wife, after all. That Tommy gets you more than him. Gets to fill you whenever he pleases. Gets to hear your moans as loudly as he wants. That Tommy’s right to your pussy is his first and foremost, sacredly, forever and always.
That doesn’t stop Joel from seething at the thought of having to finger his brothers spent out of you.
"What, he didn’t make ya cum?” He taunts, picking up the pace. Even as you wreathe under his touch, your nails clench into his bicep, feeling the muscle work with each flick of his knuckle. “S’why you’re so desperate today? Wifey didn’t get her selfish little cunt pleased from your husband on his birthday?”
"I did come …” you protest weakly. You squeeze your eyes shut, head tilted down as he works you open. It’s sloppy and sticky in your leggings, soaking the underside with your slick and Tommy’s cum being forced out by Joel’s big fingers relentlessly hitting the gummy spot inside.
His other hand grips your chin and forces you to look at him:
“Then why you comin’ to me?”
There’s a prickle of a tear filling your eyes. You've been asking yourself the same thing for months. You don’t know from what; the brink of pleasure or guilt, but there’s a hefty stone that’s burrowed in your chest all day that you didn’t know needed to escape. The words are forced out of your chest with a pained gasp.
"... I just want... more.”
It should pain you to admit it, to be so selfish for these men, never feeling one is enough for you.
Normally He would kiss you right now, to hush your mind to reveal something so heavy, but instead, he holds your gaze, gritting his teeth with a snarl just barely poking along his lip. He wants to let your words sink into your bones, really grasp what you've been denying for too long. Suffer with it, even.
You hadn’t even realized he backed you up against the door, pressing his knee between your leg. You’ve become trapped and hadn’t even noticed. His fingers prod your entrance incessantly, reaching deep inside so there’s no way of you to wiggle out of his grasp. curling up and beating your g-spot better than Tommy can—at this point, its very possible you’ve had more sex with Joel than with your own husband.
And that makes the coil in your pussy snap.
Joel belittles you without any words while you fall apart against the wooden door holding you up. Working the heft of his palm against your clit until your brows are furrowing, mouth agape, walls clamping down tight around him as you cum. The door rattles with each little roll of your hips, and your moans aren’t hushed either.
He watches, the way your eyes are glued to him, blown wide in guilt and in pleasure while little whines escape your lips. Unrelenting and stoic as he works you through your orgasm, granting no mercy nor even trying to shush your little cries from over stimulation. You don’t hesitate when he brings his fingers to your lips, swallowing them whole and sucking Tommy and your slick off Joel’s fingers. He wipes the rest off on your shirt.
Every emotion you feel with Tommy, you feel with Joel in moments like these. He holds you close to him as you breathe in his musky, minty scent. His shirt smells a bit like flowered softener and a hint of early morning sweat. Fumigated with the thick aroma of sex.
You're looking at the ring on your knuckle.
“I helped pick it out. Carried it for months. ’S practically my ring to you too.” He’s babbling now, getting lost in that hazy after-orgasm glow between two people who are connected by a strong, strange bond. “Sometimes …sometimes I think about stealing you away all to myself.”
He makes you two look in the mirror together, with him cradling your belly as you hold your ring hand to your chest. “Look,” he commands softly against your ear. “Kinda looks like our own little family.”
You hate that you kind of liked that idea. But then Tommy is in your mind, the man that you actually love, who fought for you, who you tied your vows to, and as far as you’re concerned, the father of your children.
Angry, you try to break away and shove Joel, but he's used to it. Used to you closing him off right after these moments of pure insanity. He's not letting it happen today. This time he’s got a firm grip on you like a brick wall and steel wire melding you tight to him. He knows you don’t actually want to push him away.
"You said you wanted more.”
It’s not a question: it’s a statement. A fact.
The very real thought, the one you tried to push away every time this happens, dawns on you: Joel is tired of sneaking around. Wants to have you when he wants. When everyone is watching.
Not just sex. To be in your bed, making you dinner and watching movies, dropping Sarah off to school rubbing your back when you’re in pain, there for the babies when you deliver and every day after.
You manage to push him off of you and shake your head. The chatter outside grows louder than the beats of your heart. Hoisting your pants back up into place, you go to grab the bathroom door, but Joels strong grip lays over top your and forces the door shut.
There’s a deadly, threatening finality to his tone. “I’m telling him.”
You turn back with a shocked expression, partially expecting him to be joking about it. Not that it’s funny. It’s not funny at all.
But Joel hasn’t moved. Hasn’t cracked a smile. A man whose resolve has overcome his patience. His lips are tight, jaw tense as he watches you try to answer to that horrifying outcome.
“Joel. No. Are you insane?”
“If its my kids you’re having, I have every right to be there for you—“
“But it’s NOT!”
“You know that? Tell me right know, you know it for sure. Say it ain’t mine, and I’ll never bring it up again.”
You go quiet, looking down at the belly that’s carrying your babies. You want to shrink away from your fears, from the men who’ve caught you between them with their words and their love and their touch. You’re Tommy’s wife. Yet here you are with Joel. Again. In your and Tommy’s house. And Joel’s hand on you, and on your finger is Tommy’s ring—Joel’s ring--TOMMY—
It’s too much. Everything is closing around you, your lungs suffocating themselves under the pressure that you caused by seeking him out. Finding him and putting yourself in this exact situation ever. Single. Time.
You yank the door again, desperate to escape, but Joel doesn’t budge. He refuses to let you walk away from the conversation. From him.
“You didn’t deny it,” he reminds you. he pulls your reluctant focus to him again. “Just say it: Tell me you want me. Tell me you lo—”
“I don’t.” You declare rigidly. Its too far. No, no, no,nonoNO. You expel those thoughts, his words, quick to cast them out before letting them enter your system. The next words rush out of your mouth with a deep ache seized in the pit of your stomach: “You’re just a good fuck.”
The air is thin around you. Something has dropped, a pin, a dime, a fucking boulder, between the two of you. Joel grits his teeth and removes his hand from the door, backing away from you with a scowl. He pulls it the knob open harshly and brushes past you quickly, not even taking a moment to check if anyone was nearby to see you emerging from the bathroom too.
He grabs his jacket and strides towards the living room. You can make out the commotion behind the wall; Sarah is having her own philosophy course to her personal audience, asking, "Whats the point of having so many candles if you can only make one wish!?"
Joel grabs her hand and dismisses them quickly. Her sad cries echo into the hall: “But why! It’s too early!”
Joel’s stern voice echoes in the hall as they make their way across the entryway. “Because I said so. I’ve got work tomorrow. We’re leaving.”
She continues to complain, but Joel doesn’t have any heart to continue their conversation. Ushering her out of the house and slamming the front door behind them.
You stare at the door, having not moved from your place.
The carpet beneath your socked-feet feels too shaggy. I hated this carpet. Its too fucking much for fucking Texas and every god damn person who sees it here.
You flinch when Tommy’s hand creeps along your belly. Disgusting your sniffle as a cough and wiping your nose. You worry he noticed, but he doesn’t do anything to push the matter further. “What’s up with him?”
You huff an annoyed sigh. “I don’t fucking know. He’s your brother. Just Leave me the fuck alone.”
Tommy observes your face momentarily, the way you avoid his eyes. He pulls away. “I’m gonna let this one slide as a pregnancy hormonal thing,” he says lowly, a cold soberness to his tone. “Then you can tell me what’s botherin’ ya so much lately. Or not. I’ll let you decide.”
You cover your face with your hands, sinful hands that feel like dry leather and charred ashes. Hands that don’t feel like your own anymore.
It would be better if Tommy just walked away. So you can simmer in your guilt and pain, like any cheating wife would. Like a sensible man who doesn’t take that shit from his wife, no matter what her personal problems are. From a woman who’s secretly jeopardizing their marriage for… what exactly?
You wanted more…but…what did you want more of?
Instead, Tommy feels his lips quiver slightly. He brings your head to his chest, smothering you in his scent and his embrace, his love and comfort.
Your insides break down in a flood. Tears and hiccups suffocate you as you wrap your arms around your husband and sob into his denim jacket, the one you just gave him this morning as his first birthday gift from his new wife.
Tommy’s never pushed you for anything. Maybe to his own detriment.
Deep down, you suspect, he knows it too.
Instead, he just holds you, swaying back and forth with gentle ‘shhh’ into your forehead. Never once faltering on the stretch of his hug, his arms holding you up and against him like a seatbelt built for a lifetime.
You feel like you just drove the car off a cliff.
Series Taglist: @yawnetu @tearfallpixie @morgaussy @whirlwindrider29 @merci-killing @604to647 @robertpattins0nswh0re
- - - -
Finale poll: Who are you Rooting for?
Permanent Taglist:
@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop
#pedro pascal smut#joel miller fan fiction#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller smut#last of us fanfiction#last of us smut#the last of us fanfiction#joel miller fic#the last of us smut#tlou smut#the last of us fic#last of us fic#best man#tommy miller fanfiction#tommy miller smut#tommy miller x you#tommy miller x reader#tommy miller fic
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Behind the Scenes of The Giggle - Part Six Excerpt from Benjamin Cook's DWM #597 Interview with Catherine Tate (with guest appearance by David Tennant)
"Do you know, we went to an escape room with Neil? He loves them. It was his birthday while we were here…” [ Neil Patrick Harris ] celebrated his 49th while filming Doctor Who in Bristol last month. By day, he donned the Toymaker’s tux and shimmied gleefully on the streets. By night, he took David and Catherine out to dinner, then on to Worlds Collide, Bristol’s best – and only – Doctor Who-themed escape room. Players are given 60 minutes to work out how to close a tear in the fabric of spacetime, before the Cybermen break through (the Toymaker has fought the Cybermen!!). “He’d booked it out,” says Catherine. “He’d shut down the whole place [for the night] and they let us in.” “Proper Hollywood,” says David. “Innit, though! That’s old money, that is,” she laughs. “And Jodie [Whittaker’s Doctor] turns up,” says David. “She was on a PA. As if –” “– as if she’s calling you. And there was a scarf. And a sonic screwdriver.” “And a Cyberman.” “A Cyberman head, yeah.” Aren’t Catherine and David… you know, overqualified for a Doctor Who escape room? “I was quite hopeful,” he says. “I thought, these are puzzles I’m going to be able to solve. But then–” “There were chess pieces,” says Catherine, in much the same tone of voice in which Donna once informed the Doctor that Santa’s a robot. “I mean, oh my God! Sorry, but how the hell –?” Neil was brilliant at it, though. “He was annoyingly good.” The Toymaker and his games are quite notorious. “Yes, because then he went, ‘Let’s do another one! We’re gonna do the World War Two room.’ That’s when I came to life.” “It’s true,” says David. “I loved that one. It was great. We were spies and we’d infiltrated a Nazi bunker.” “It involved a bit more role play, didn’t it? Very Toymaker. And zome outrageous ack-sents!” “But after the Doctor Who one,” says Catherine, “it was clear that Neil and David were better at it. There was a clear division between the coulds and the could-nots. So Neil and David went into one room, and me, [executive producer] Phil Collinson, and Charlie [De Melo], who plays… is it Charles Banerjee? [glimpsed in last year’s Christmas Day trailer, rushing through the rain towards Mr Emporium’s toyshop] – went in another room. I’d said to Phil and Charlie, ‘Let’s cut the deadwood and go into a room on our own.’ You do it against each other, and see who gets out first. “So me, Charlie and Phil had a right old laugh,” recalls Catherine, cracking up, “while David and Neil went off and… got out much quicker. Midway through ours, they’d already finished and were watching us scrabble around trying to get out of our German bunker.” She chuckles at the memory. “Then suddenly through the PA comes: ‘DONNAAA!!!’” David says nothing, but he looks very pleased with himself.
Also, from Charlie De Melo's Instagram:
I'm struggling to think of a stranger evening than one, last June, doing a @bbcdoctorwho themed escape room, with The Doctor, Donna and the Toymaker. David and Neil, it turns out, are *very* good at escape rooms. The rest of us, less so. They rushed around the room, picking up clues and turning switches and all manner of other things, whilst the rest of us looked on, utterly bemused (& a little tooty in my case). So on they powered. Leaving us scratching our heads in a room full of disembodied Cybermen ones. Before confusion could give way to frustration, the tannoy crackled. It was David. They'd somehow managed to finish the entire thing whilst we all had stood still where we'd been left. Although he'd lost his lilting, melodic, Scottish brogue. He was now The Doctor. And in the Doctor's voice he began barking orders at us, talking us through the puzzles and guiding us out of whatever wibbly wobbly mess we were in and back to the safety of Bristol. "Donna! Quick! You have to get them out of there, the Cybermen are coming!"
For other posts in this set, please see the #whoBtsGiggle tag. The full episode list is [ here ]
#super long text portion this time#the doctor and donna do an escape room#with the toymaker#how excellent#david tennant#catherine tate#doctor who#rtdedit#the giggle#dwm#neil patrick harris#charlie de melo#phil collinson#benjamin cook#these people are so delightful#stuff i posted#whobts#whoBtsGiggle#long post#long but fun
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Catch Me If You Can AU
Remember this? (Mob Bucky x single mom police officer reader) Which lead to a part 2 and a part 3? Here is a lil drabble for that AU. For context if you don’t feel like reading all three parts: Mob Bucky falls in love with the pretty police officer who has been on his ass for ages. Not to mention she has a son, 8 year old Jordan, who sees Bucky as a hero no less. After a little kidnapping, a little flirting and going full on protective mode when her shitty ex tries to come back around, Buck finally gets to call her his. She’s a little hesitant at first but she falls for his baby blues and sweet charm. Here’s what happens a little while after you’ve been together. So much emotional fluff.
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“What is it J” Bucky curiously inspected the box that was placed onto his lap with a little bow tied on the top, wrapped up with carefully selected colorful paper. Jordan had spent the entire night shifting through different colors he thought Bucky would like and redoing the taping until it was perfect, hardly getting a wink of sleep, too excited for morning to come.
“Open it!” Jordan grinned, though his heart was beating erratically on the inside, holding his breath when Bucky picked up the box again. The mob boss had taken the month off for Jordan’s 10th birthday, insisting they would do whatever he wanted but your son insisted he just wanted to spend time together. Still, Bucky pulled out all the stops, leaving a mountain of gifts in Jordan's room from him alone. Breakfast was filled with pancakes, every topping imaginable, fresh croissants, pastries and milkshakes along with a very hungry Steve, Sam and Peter. You were all still seated at the table finishing up while Jordan looked at Bucky intently.
“Shouldn’t I be the one getting you presents” Bucky snorted while you watched him carefully unwrap the ribbon before gently taking the wrapping paper apart revealing a plain white cardboard box with an envelope taped onto the front.
“Should I read this or see what’s inside first?” Bucky asked curiously.
“Uh-You can read the letter first” Jordan peeked up, hoping to hide his anxiousness while Bucky took out the paper, unfolding a hand written letter.
Dear Dad,
I talked to mommy about this and this is what I want for my birthday. I thought it would wait till Christmas but I really wanted it now.
No pressure, you can always say no but I hope you’ll say yes.
Love,
Jordan
Bucky’s brows furrowed, looking at the documents inside the box, his entire world stopping as he read the words printed on the paper.
“J?”
Jordan shuffled on his feet nervously, afraid to meet Bucky’s eyes, only looking up when Bucky reached out to gently squeeze his hand.
“Are-are you sure?”
“I’m sure” Jordan whispered, missing the tears that streamed down Bucky’s face, pulling the little one into his chest, kissing the top of his head. “So you’ll sign it? You’ll adopt me?” Jordan looked up hopefully while Bucky let out a wet chuckle.
“Y’know you’re already mine, right? I want this but these are just papers. I love you no matter what” Bucky said firmly, meaning every word. You bit your lip to keep from sobbing seeing your two favorite boys attached at the hip while Bucky signed the document, still keeping a protective arm around Jordan. Jordan silently nodded, letting out a sniffle before squeezing Bucky tightly, feeling safer than ever. You giggled to yourself, seeing Bucky’s usual hard ass men discreetly wiping their eyes with Steve doing the worst job.
“G-get it together” Sam hissed, swallowing tightly, scrunching his nose in an attempt to keep from sniffling again while Steve rolled his eyes, no longer trying to hold back as the first whimper escaped. Then a full on sob. Peter hadn’t bothered trying to put up a front at all, loudly blowing his nose into a tissue.
“Mommy, look!” he took he sheet and held it up proudly for you all to see to see, while Bucky pulled you in, kissing you sweetly.
“Thank you” You whispered just for Bucky to hear, melting into his touch as he silently squeezed your hip.
“Best. Birthday. Ever” Jordan stated, clutching the paper to his chest while Bucky grinned proudly, deciding he’d have a conversation with his son soon about asking his mommy to marry him. “Just one more thing”
“What else do you want baby, daddy already got you everything and more” You ruffled Jordan’s hair, your son thinking for a moment before his eyes lit up.
“A brother” Jordan shrugged innocently while Bucky smirked, giving you a wink when no one was looking.
“Oh, he can make that happen right now” Sam cackled, already seeing the feral look on Bucky’s face while you shook your head, ignoring the way your stomach flipped at the thought.
“Really? Or a sister” Jordan smiled, just wanting a sibling to play with. “I’m okay with either”
“Jordan-”
“Shhh, let’s give our son what he wants” You were about to question his request when Bucky immediately hushed you, giving Steve a pointed look, his best friend nodding understandingly.
“Sooo how about we go on some roller coasters all day so we can give your mommy and daddy some time to get you that” Steve grinned while Sam wiggled his eyebrows a you both, your son already half way out of the dining room, off to get ready.
“That sounds like a great plan” Bucky let his hands slide down to your hips, pulling your body flush against his.
“You’re a menace” You bit back a shy smile while Bucky hugged you tightly from behind, seconds away from throwing you over his shoulder.
“M’your menace baby” He cooed, his heart still full over getting to officially call Jordan his, “C’mon, we can’t keep J waiting”
“You sure about this?” You asked, squeaking when he lifted you in his arms, taking you straight to bed as soon as they heard the front door shut, leaving the house completely empty.
“Very sure. Now come here, my son gets whatever he wants” Bucky practically pounced on you, making you giggle as he peppered you with kisses, throwing you on the bed. “Let’s make a baby, mama”
#mob bucky barnes#mob bucky fluff#mob bucky#mob bucky au#mob bucky x reader#mob bucky x y/n#mob bucky x you#mob bucky barnes au#bucky#Bucky Barnes#James Buchanan Bucky Barnes#james buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x fluff#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x single mom reader#bucky barnes x mom reader#bucky x reader#bucky x you#bucky x y/n#bucky x female reader#bucky x police reader#bucky barnes x police officer reader#bucky x single mom reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes fan fic#bucky barnes fan fiction#bucky barnes x f reader
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Golden Hour
Characters: Steve Harrington x reader
Summary: On a snow-kissed Christmas Eve, the quiet magic of a museum visit brings unspoken feelings between you and Steve Harrington to light, culminating in a heartfelt confession under twinkling lights.
Word Count: 1321 words
Prompts: Museum. Mutual pining. A hug that lingers.
A/N: This is the final of my Build a Christmas Fics, and a birthday gift to myself. A sweet anon requested it, and after writing it I decided it had to be my Christmas Eve post, so enjoy.
The museum was aglow with warm light, golden and soft, casting long shadows across the gleaming marble floors. Christmas Eve had brought a quiet charm to the usually bustling space, and the twinkle of fairy lights strung along the banisters only added to the enchantment. Outside, snow fell steadily, blanketing the city in a layer of pristine white. Inside, you wandered the halls, your hands stuffed into the pockets of your coat, your breath still thawing from the cold.
Steve Harrington was a few steps behind you, his gaze less on the exhibits and more on you. He wasn’t subtle about it—he rarely was when it came to his feelings. But you’d managed to ignore it for months, chalking up his lingering looks and sweet gestures to Steve just being Steve. Today, though, something felt different. There was a charged warmth between you, one that even the vast, echoing halls of the museum couldn’t dissipate.
“This place is nice,” Steve said, finally breaking the comfortable silence as you entered the Impressionist wing. His voice was soft, reverent even, as if afraid to disturb the peace.
You glanced over your shoulder, smiling at him. “Told you it would be. Thanks for agreeing to come.”
“Yeah, well, it beats sitting at home with a TV dinner,” he teased, though his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.
You frowned, catching the hint of melancholy in his tone. Christmas Eve had a way of amplifying loneliness, and you knew Steve’s family wasn’t exactly the “let’s gather around the tree” type. “You’re not spending it alone,” you said firmly. “And this place has paintings, history, charm… what’s not to love? I mean, I know you have to put up with me…”
He laughed, his eyes crinkling in that way that made your heart stutter. “You say that like it’s a bad thing to hang out with you.”
You laughed, shaking your head and bumping your shoulder against his arm. “Come on.”
Steve didn’t reply, but his gaze softened, lingering on you a moment longer than necessary before he turned his attention to the nearest painting.
The museum was nearly empty, save for a handful of other visitors and a few staff members. It made the experience feel more intimate, as if the grand halls and priceless artwork existed solely for the two of you. You wandered from gallery to gallery, pausing every so often to admire a particular piece or read the accompanying placard. Steve trailed beside you, his presence steady and warm, even in the cavernous space.
In the Renaissance wing, you stopped in front of a painting of a winter scene. It depicted a bustling village square, with townsfolk ice skating and children throwing snowballs. The colors were rich, the scene alive with movement and joy.
“That one’s nice,” Steve said, standing close enough that his shoulder brushed yours.
“It is,” you agreed, your voice softer now. “Makes me wish we had more days like that.”
“Like what?”
“Simple ones,” you said, gesturing toward the painting. “Skating on a frozen pond, building snowmen, spending time with people you care about. No chaos, no stress. Just… peace.”
Steve was quiet for a moment, and when you glanced at him, you found him looking at you again.
“Sounds nice,” he said finally, his voice low. “You make it sound really nice.”
Your stomach flipped, but you pushed the feeling aside, turning back to the painting. “It’s just a painting, Steve. Don’t read too much into it.”
He chuckled softly. “Too late.”
The hours passed quickly, the two of you slipping into an easy rhythm. You found yourself relaxing, the weight of the season—and everything left unsaid between you and Steve—falling away as you shared quiet moments and exchanged lighthearted banter. The museum’s festive decorations added to the atmosphere, each twinkling light and garland reminding you that it was, after all, Christmas Eve.
Eventually, you found yourselves in the sculpture garden, an open-air courtyard in the center of the museum. Snow drifted down from the sky, the flakes catching in your hair and on Steve’s coat. The garden was lit by warm golden lights, and the sculptures cast long, intricate shadows on the snow-covered ground. It was breathtaking, the kind of scene you’d expect to find in a holiday card.
“This is amazing,” you said, spinning slowly to take it all in. Your breath formed little puffs in the cold air, and you couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face. “It’s like a dream.”
“Yeah,” Steve said, though his voice was distracted. When you turned to look at him, you found him watching you again, his expression unreadable.
You felt your cheeks heat under his gaze. “What?”
He shook his head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Nothing. Just… you look happy.”
“I am,” you admitted. “It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this… light.”
“Good,” he said, his voice quieter now. “You deserve that.”
The air between you shifted then, growing heavier but not uncomfortable. It was as if the snow, the lights, and the golden glow of the courtyard had wrapped around the two of you, drawing you closer together. Steve stepped forward, his hands stuffed into his pockets, his breath visible in the cold.
“Hey,” he said softly, his gaze meeting yours. “I… uh… I’ve been meaning to say something.”
Your heart skipped a beat. “Yeah?”
He hesitated, glancing down at the snow before looking back at you. “I know I’m not always the best at this stuff, but I just… I wanted you to know that I… that you mean a lot to me. More than I think you realize.”
You blinked, his words sinking in slowly. “Steve…”
“You don’t have to say anything,” he added quickly, his cheeks flushing. “I just… I needed to tell you. Because being here with you, it’s the best Christmas I’ve had in… well, maybe ever.”
For a moment, you couldn’t speak, your heart pounding too loudly in your ears. Then, without thinking, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him. He froze for half a second before hugging you back, his hold warm and firm, as if he was afraid to let go.
“You’re such an idiot,” you murmured against his shoulder, though your tone was affectionate.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice muffled. “But you love me anyway.”
You laughed softly, pulling back just enough to look at him. His hands lingered on your arms, his touch gentle despite the strength behind it. The golden lights reflected in his eyes, and you felt yourself falling for him all over again.
“Yeah,” you said quietly. “I do.”
Steve’s breath hitched, and for a moment, he just stared at you, as if trying to memorize every detail of your face. Then, slowly, he leaned in, his forehead resting against yours.
“Is this… is this okay?” he whispered, his voice barely audible.
You nodded, your gloved hands cupping his face as you close the gap between the two of you.
His lips met yours, soft and warm, and for a moment, the world seemed to fall away. The snow, the lights, the sculptures—everything faded until there was only Steve, his kiss gentle but full of unspoken emotion. When he pulled back, his gaze searched yours, his expression equal parts hopeful and nervous.
His smile was radiant, and as he saw nothing but adoration in your eyes, he pulled you back into his arms, holding you close as the snow continued to fall around you. In that moment, wrapped in his warmth and the golden glow of the courtyard, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.
And as Christmas Eve gave way to Christmas morning, you couldn’t help but think that this—Steve, the snow, the kiss that had left your heart racing—was the best gift you could have ever asked for.
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**Silent Confession**
Victor Grantz x Reader
Summary: Victor receives an anonymous letter on Valentine's Day.
Words in a conversation come and go: lies that hurt and secrets between paragraphs. Speaking in person is too complex. That’s why Victor took this job—nothing can escape in a letter. There are no hidden meanings; everything can be said from the depth of the heart. So, as a postman, he has the faithful task of delivering each letter to its destination.
It’s an honest and satisfying job. Happy, sad, bitter, or innocent faces hide behind every writer and their recipient. For the young man who didn’t speak, a letter is the purest and most sincere thing, more than an entire face-to-face conversation.
During the holidays, when the letters fill the mailbox, the busier he gets and the less time he has. Christmas, New Year, and birthdays follow, but above all, Valentine’s Day. A complicated date for a small postman, but highly appreciated by those who wish to find love. Knowing that within each envelope there is a destiny in motion made his young heart flutter.
Even though Victor had worked in his community for several months, he didn’t know the people by their names but by their letters.
The mother who writes with beautiful handwriting, pressing the pencil firmly as she writes to her husband and children away from the city.
The little ones who presumably write to Santa with scribbles and drawings.
And the lovers with their colored papers and perfumes.
On Valentine’s Day, the latter group increases noticeably.
During one of those nights, when he arrived home with his companion, Wick, a small dog that follows him everywhere, changed out of his uniform, and got ready to sleep, right after hanging his jacket and emptying his bag, a letter fell to the floor. Immediately, his eyes widened, and he looked inside his bag. It was the only letter that had slipped in the entire day, stuck with a cheap seal on the wall. A small square letter in a vermilion envelope with no name or address.
His eyebrows furrowed, and, determined to violate the author’s privacy, he opened the letter.
**To the postman
Thank you for your hard work**
No sender, no signature. An anonymous letter.
Was that it? A letter for him?
A thank you that would seem crude and silly to anyone else, but to the young mailman, a true feeling of recognition struck his chest, and immediately his cheeks turned peachy with happiness.
That night, he lay on his bed, thinking about the author. Whether it was a joke or not, he didn’t care. It moved him enough to appreciate the message. He slept with the letter open on his nightstand, and in the following days, when he returned home tired from work, he would look at that letter on his desk, under the bedside light. And his chest swelled with confidence.
The next of many letters came two weeks later. Same paper, same handwriting, and no sender.
**Dear postman
I don’t know if my letter really reached you. But I truly hope it did. Thank you for your service, without you, the community would have no real connection.**
The boy could feel the interaction as a small comfort or recognition, making him feel that his effort and dedication didn’t go unnoticed. If only he had their name, he would write them a thank-you letter. Sadly, many of these letters were taken from the mailbox. And very few were delivered directly to him.
Victor is, among many of the postman in his town, just another worker, and he didn’t have much speaking ability. He relied on listening and reading lost letters and pleasant conversations. Even so, he didn’t go unnoticed by some. Over time, he earned the trust of the older writers and neighbors who had the habit of writing almost daily and waiting for his response. So, thanks to that first letter, perhaps, Victor gained more confidence.
A couple of months later, with a one-sided connection on his part, and after several failed attempts to identify the address of the sender, he gave up and settled on reading them when he left work. A routine of preparing a cold glass of milk on the small table next to his bed, taking a couple of sips while reading these letters, which over time became longer. With little everyday things like the weather, funny town events, and annual celebrations. Until, weeks before Christmas, the last letter arrived.
**To the Dear Postman Victor**
He smiled. After several months, they had finally used his name in the letter, and that one-sided connection became more intimate. Sometimes it started with, *"My favorite postman,"* or a formal, *"Dear Victor."* All very polite until the author began recounting their day-to-day life. He knew much more about her life than his own. Everything except her name.
Calmly, with his dog snoring at the foot of the bed, he continued reading:
**"I’m sorry for sending these strange letters for so long. The truth is, I just wanted someone to talk to."**
Victor stopped reading and straightened his back against the headboard of the bed:
**"My mother passed away months ago, and my father three years ago. I’ve felt so alone, but the idea that someone would read one of these letters, and that it would be you, brings me comfort. But it’s also likely that I scared you or someone else. I’m truly sorry. It won’t happen again."**
No more letters arrived.
Was something happening to her during these months when she didn’t write? Was she feeling lonely and planning to do something drastic?
For many days, he was afraid. He knew loneliness and what it did to people firsthand. But it felt far worse knowing he couldn’t do anything to help her change her mind.
He waited a day, then a week, but that vermilion-colored paper, with those homemade seals, didn’t appear in any mailbox in the city. Victor was the only one responsible for collecting letters in that area, so it didn’t make sense for them not to show up.
“Are you looking for someone who lost her mother this year?” an old woman from the bakery he regularly visited asked. “Hmm, there’s a girl, yes. She hasn’t been seen lately. She usually comes to shop during the week. On Tuesdays, I think.”
*During the week—that’s when my shift begins, and I pick up the letters,* Victor thought.
Despite being reserved, the concern on his face and his written manner prompted the woman to share more details.
**[Who is she?]**
It was good he had his notebook on hand to communicate. Even though his hand trembled, and his writing was messy, the woman understood what he wanted to ask.
**[YN]**
**[Where does she live?]** he wrote quickly. Wrapped in his winter uniform and a scarf, he hid his nervousness with the cold.
“On Central Avenue, four blocks down.”
He grabbed his pencil again and wrote:
**[Do you know if she has any relatives or friends in the city?]**
The question puzzled the woman, and she hesitated to answer.
“You look like a good boy. You remind me of my grandson. No, she lives alone as far as I know. You know, he wasn't a... very good man. The poor girl has been accompanying her mother in mourning ever since. ”
Victor was already running, fast, faster than when he tried to deliver late packages or when chasing Wick for stealing his parcels.
He abandoned his usual calm demeanor and ran toward the address the woman had mentioned, clinging to hope. And there it was—a small house with a well-kept garden separating Victor from her. It was winter now, and a layer of snow covered everything in pristine white—the streets, rivers, and even her garden.
*Should I do this?* He didn’t know her in person, but after ten months of letters, he felt like he had known her his whole life.
Even so, he knocked gently, not brave enough to ring the doorbell further ahead.
Although she might not feel the same. Although she might think she was bothering him, Victor waited for her letter every day. He wanted to know about her life, every little detail. He wanted to hear her laugh, cry, and see her in person.
And even if they had never met before—
“Hello?”
He wanted to be by her side.
What words could he offer? What could he say when he had never spoken to her before?
“Victor?”
As he stood there, sweating, lungs and brain on the verge of collapsing, he stopped and saw her—you—for the first time. Just as he had imagined and more. His words couldn’t describe the wave of emotions he felt seeing you there, safe.
You were surprised it was him. He didn’t know your name or your address. That’s why you never included it. You had overthought it, assuming it would be awkward—and it was.
When Victor extended his arms with several letters in hand and a determined expression, your face shifted to concern and embarrassment.
“So, you read them all. I’m sorry.”
Quickly, he held the letters tightly to his chest, and his expression seemed to tell you not to apologize. Victor leaned down, his gaze full of tenderness, more so than Wick’s by his side. Somehow, the way his eyes reminded you of summer leaves and his hair of sunlight made you feel undeserving of something so good.
“You don’t know anything about me, you only know me through those silly letters.”
He shook his head, his eyebrows raising in protest. *Silly? Not at all.* When you saw him take out his notebook and scribble something with a pencil, you were puzzled to read it.
**[I know the girl who loves iced coffee at night, who loves animals as much as I love Wick.]**
“Please, go. You’re not doing any good staying here.”
You were about to turn and shut the door when Wick bit at the fabric of your pants. You tried shaking him off, only for Victor to grab your wrist.
His mouth trembled, his lips pressing together before forming anything more than a murmur. It felt cruel to turn your back on someone who, despite his disability, was trying to help you.
“I… like you.”
No one had ever heard him speak. People assumed he couldn’t. He spoke clumsily when it came to you, but he spoke. His voice, breathless yet soft, like cream in coffee, melted your heart to hear it.
“No! It’s impossible. No one could love me. You’re lying.”
Why wouldn’t anyone love you? Who had made you believe that? If someone thought they could never be loved that way, Victor assumed it would have been him—not someone like you.
He searched his pockets, his gaze panicking until Wick barked and placed an envelope on the ground. Victor patted his head and handed it to you.
Vermilion—the color of your letters. However, this one had a sender.
**To YN, from Victor.**
**[You opened your heart to me, YN, in a way no one else ever has. And now, I have to give you mine.]**
“Victor…” You clutched the letter.
He gave you a broken smile, encouraging you to read it fully.
**[You will live a long life, YN, watching the sunset every evening. You won’t ever be alone again. I just need one thing.]**
The letter ended there.
“But what is it that you want?”
He pointed to himself. He placed his hands, loosely balled into fists, over his heart, as if hugging something precious. Then, he took your hands and intertwined them over your chest.
“I don’t understand… Why? Aren’t you tired of hearing from me and reading about me?”
He wrote something else in his notebook:
**[I could listen to you my entire life.]**
You didn’t fully understand, but with him, words weren’t necessary.
**[I’ve met many people in my life, but none like you. I found you, YN. I won’t let you go. I love you.]**
You felt foolish. Every emotion you’d suppressed spilled out like crystalline pearls. You couldn’t say anything, but you hugged him like you’d always been searching for him, while he had been waiting for you.
In that moment, Victor knew he had found love in your silence.
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All Dressed Up - Capt. Syverson x Reader
A/N: based on a thought I had while watching Sand Castle earlier and a discussion with @nouis-bum from a couple of days ago. I couldn't help myself, sorry. Also, we decided for the purpose of my writing, his name's Luke.
pairing: Capt. Syverson x fem!reader
warnings/content: oral (m & f receiving), no use of y/n, no real mention of reader's features other than long hair.
word count: 1.8k
“Honey, have you seen my blue shirt?” Luke Syverson called out to his wife, his icy-blue eyes squinting as he tried to think of where his dress shirt could be. He was sure he’d checked every laundry basket, every drawer in the dresser, and both sides of the closet. He bounded down the stairs, heavy footsteps echoing through the house as he headed for the laundry room. His brows knit together as he thought about any stone he may have left unturned in his search. He didn’t dress up often - in fact, the missing dress shirt in question was his only dress shirt. He had always gotten by with an old t-shirt and a pair of jeans when he went out, which wasn’t a regular occurrence until you’d entered his life a few years ago.
Slowly, you’d begun to introduce new things into his closet, replacing his tattered old Houston Texans jersey was the first step - he’d kept the old one, of course, for nostalgic purposes, but it hardly fit, and the deep navy blue fabric had gained a few holes here and there over the years. The new one had been a birthday gift from you that first year you were together, and he treasured it. The dress shirt was introduced the second Christmas the two of you were together. You had a work Christmas party and he was home from his latest tour for a 6 month break until the next one came around. He’d never met any of your co-workers before, and wanting to make a good impression and keep you happy, he’d reluctantly agreed to go shopping with you to pick out something better suited to wear than a tattered cotton graphic tee he’d had for at least a decade, and a well-worn, faded pair of jeans.
As he squatted down in front of the dryer, opening the door to look at the contents inside to see if his shirt was somewhere in amongst the clean laundry waiting to be folded, he heard footsteps come up behind him, followed by a wolf whistle. He smirked to himself, closing the dryer door after yet another unsuccessful search. He stood upright, his full 6-foot-something frame straightening up as he turned to face you. His bulking muscular figure was still toned from the years of military service he’d just retired from, although now, he stood a little more solidly, having grown accustomed to more than just black coffee and shitty food while he was away. His arms folded across his chest, muscles bulging as he stood before her. His wife stood in front of him, batting her eyelashes as she donned his blue button up shirt, sitting oversized on her, drooping off her shoulders as grinned at him. His eyes scanned over her, taking in the sight before him. His lips curled up into a smirk, framed by his thick, curly, dark beard, the chestnut coloured hairs recently trimmed to look less wild than they usually did. He noticed that the shirt stopped just above her knee, and it didn’t take more than a split second to realize that the shirt was the only article of clothing she was wearing at the time.
“Now, darlin’, why exactly have ya got my shirt on?” His voice carried a teasing tone to it as he spoke, the smirk on his face remaining unchanged as his piercing blue eyes continued to gawk at her.
“Thought it made for a kinda cute shirt dress, don’t you?” She teased, twirling a long strand of hair around her index finger, “Besides, kinda fun watchin’ you run around half naked lookin’ for it.”
“Sugar, don’t get me wrong, it looks great on ya, but I can’t exactly go out for dinner lookin’ like this,” Luke gestured to his naked torso, his hand stopping just above the waist of his dark-washed jeans.
“Fine, but, before I take it off,” She began, her lips curving into a devilish grin as she dragged her fingers lazily over his skin, gently raking through the brown curls that adorned his chest, “I want to make you feel good first.”
“Darlin’, you’re killin’ me here,” He shook his head, laughing as he looked down at her.
Luke watched as she gently pressed her lips to his collarbone before slowly slinking down to her knees before him. He took his belt in his hand, undoing the metal buckle and sliding the long leather material through the belt loops around his waist. He dropped it to the ground, the sound of the buckle clattering against the hardwood flooring echoing through the room.
He undid the button on his jeans with urgency, dragging them down just enough to allow his wife the space she’d need to pleasure him. She yanked the elastic waistband of his boxers down with a smirk, his hardened cock springing back as she freed it from its cotton restraints. She pressed her lips to it, leaving a tauntingly delicate kiss to the sensitive, red tip, her hand firmly gripping the base. She licked a long, wet stripe up the underside of his length, beginning at the base and ending in a swirling motion around the tip, giving him a doe-eyed gaze as she looked up at him, watching for his reaction. He tilted his head back, letting out a deep, low growling moan before turning his head back to look down at her, grunting her name as she guided his member past her lips, creating suction on the tip with her mouth.
She began bobbing her head along his length, her cheeks hollowing as she pushed his erection further into her mouth, saliva beginning to drip down it as she took more of his length past her lips. She pulled her mouth back off his cock with a loud popping noise, smirking up at him as he grunted upon the loss of contact.
“Fucking Christ, babygirl, you’re killin’ me here,” Luke rasped, shaking his head as he looked down at her.
Luke grabbed a handful of her hair, gripping it as he guided her mouth back onto him, pushing her further down his erection and guiding her back off it at a rhythmic pace, building in speed as she went. Luke was struggling to keep himself composed as she continued working his orgasm out of him with her mouth. Her eyes began to water as his tip brushed the back of her throat and the moment his sensitive cap made contact, he felt his knees buckle, swallowing hard as he tried to hold off his orgasm as long as he could. Her gaze never left his face as he tossed his head back, her name falling from his lips like a prayer as thick, warm ropes of cum shot down her throat. His eyes shut for a brief moment, completely lost in his own pleasure. He looked down at her, watching as she slowly backed herself off of him, dragging her tongue lazily against his underside as she did so.
“Darlin’, I think it’s only fair I return the favour for ya now,” He gave her a mischievous smirk as he offered his hand out to her, helping her stand to her feet.
Luke gripped her hips and hoisted her up onto the metal top of the dryer, grinning at her as he took his turn kneeling on the floor. He pulled her forwards by her hips. He tapped the inside of her thigh with his hand, indicating to her that she needed to spread her legs to allow him to fit between them. His blue eyes watched her as he dragged two thick fingers along her wet folds, his voice in a low hum as he spoke, amused at how aroused she was. Luke used his fingers to part her lips gently, letting out a deep exhale as he stared at her, taking in the sight before him.
“Look at you, darlin’, pussy all wet for me, just waitin’ for me to take care a’ya, hmm?” he cooed as he watched her part her lips, allowing a soft moan to escape from her mouth.
“Luke, please, baby,” she mewled, whimpering as he circled the pad of his fingertip against her swollen clit.
The sound of her whimpering, soft moans were music to Luke’s ears, and he wasted no time in pressing his lips to her sensitive bud, lapping his tongue against it, tasting her sweet arousal as his fingers dug into the soft flesh of her thigh. He dipped two of his fingers into her now dripping core, lazily fucking them into her as he sucked on her nub, waiting for her to beg him to give her more.
“Luke, fucking hell, stop fucking teasing me, please?” She whined, her voice raising in pitch as she let out another whimper.
Luke pumped his fingers into her faster, pressing into her soft spot as he continued to lick and suck at her clit, his bright blue eyes never leaving once leaving her face as he watched, feeling himself become more aroused by seeing her face contort and hearing her vocalize her pleasure. He felt her leg tremble under his free hand, and he continued to fuck her with his fingers, pulling his mouth off of her clit just enough for her to hear him speak.
“Soak my fingers for me, sugar,” He husked, watching as he continued to thrust them into her wet folds, an animalistic grunt escaping his lips as he felt her clenching around him.
She tossed her head back as her arousal coated him, a loud, passionate scream of his name echoing through the air as she climaxed. Luke pulled his fingers out, licking them clean before ducking back between her thighs, delving his tongue inbetween her folds to clean up the mess he’d made of her. Once finished, he pulled back his head, sitting back on his feet for a moment as he grinned up at her, his bearded chin glistening with her arousal as he looked at her.
“Now, sweetness, you’re gonna have to take my shirt off of ya now, or else we’re never gonna make it to dinner. They might notice us being missing.” He smirked, shaking his head as he stood up.
Luke reached his hands out to grab her by the hips, nodding as he helped her down off of the dryer. He cocked an eyebrow up at her, watching as she slowly undid the buttons of the shirt before shrugging the blue material back off her shoulders, letting it drop to the floor as she exposed her bare skin to him. Unable to control his impulsive urges, Luke grabbed her by the waist, gripping her body tightly as he pulled her in against his frame.
“Well…maybe we can be a few minutes late?”
#capt. syverson x reader#captain syverson#captain syverson x reader#captain syverson fic#captain syverson smut#captain syverson fanfiction#henry cavill characters
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❄️ Baby It's Cold Outside ❄️
When you, a barista at a cozy coffee shop is on the closing shift, a familiar face walks in just as you’re about to get badly snowed in from an unexpected snow storm, leaving you with no choice but to stay the night, a café couch, and the company of Simon Riley.
wc: 4,184
a/n: So sorry this took so long ugh! So much has been happening recently with my birthday last week, Christmas, and some mental health issues. But! I'm doing better! And writing always helps. This was super fun to write and I hope you all enjoy! Happy Holidays everyone! <3
Warnings: None! Avoid reading if you don't want to be smothered with super adorable fluffiness.
“Tonight’s forecast will be a high of 35 and a low of 20. Expect up to five inches of snow tonight. Stay safe, and stay warm. Happy Holidays!” The weather woman on the TV cheerily smiled as she gave the weather report. You listened to the TV as you wiped down a tiny circular table the only two customers just got up from in the little coffee shop you worked in, desperately trying to scrub away a dried coffee stain left due to the lack of a coaster used despite it being provided at the table.
*spritz spritz*
You spray the table again, sighing as you finally wipe away the chestnut colored ring stain. Five inches of snow tonight meaning less customers, or at least you hoped. You loved your job, but man were you tired. It was a holiday weekend after all. You’ve been working at the little coffee shop on the corner of the city for what seemed like ages now. You enjoyed the ambiance of the place. How comforting and cozy it was no matter what time of year, the warmness of the fairy lights illuminating the room, the ring of the bell above the door when people walk in, the quiet chatter of customers enjoying a little break in their day, the soft clanks of dishes and cups being placed down or picked up, and the slight buzz of the coffee machines whirring. It all became something so familiar to you. Comforting in a way. Sure there was always the occasional rude customer that sometimes made you want to cry in the break room or burst out laughing with your coworkers in the back, but that made your job all the more interesting. What made up for it was the amount of good customers you had. Super kind regulars who always tipped well and shared their lives with you, some even inviting you places with the group they were with.
But your favorite customer was quite the opposite of the other chatty regulars. You only ever saw him a few months at a time, and you never caught his name, but you always recognized him and remembered his order, always patiently awaiting his return. He was a big, tall man. Intimidating even, with light blonde hair that was always a bit messy as if he had just pulled a hat or mask off. You noticed the slightest sliver of tattooed skin on his left forearm when he would reach over to hand you a tip or to pick up the Earl Grey tea he always got with just a little bit of vanilla creamer in it. You always tried to make his orders look pretty to brighten his day, and for him to know it was special from you, so you always put whatever mini flower from the plants in the café you took such good care of in it. You hoped he would notice that his tea was the only one with the little purple flower in it. He only said a few words but tipped very well and would wait his turn to be served by you which you always thought was strange, since other baristas' lines were free. He never shared anything about himself other than small talk you would make with him, but he seemed happy to engage in your conversations due to the slight upturn of his lips when he listened to you talk. He was stealthy and quiet, like a lone wolf keeping distance from other animals, and the way he lurks in the shadows, observing like a ghost. His tired, soft, sweet, honey brown eyes never left yours as you spoke and you swore you could find the faintest hint of relief, no, comfort in them when he listened to ramble. You sometimes got lost in the way his light brown freckles on his nose, cheeks, and around his eyes looked like constellations and you wondered if any of them actually matched any. I mean, he did look like he was sent from the heavens above where the stars lived anyway. He was just that gorgeous. You wouldn’t be surprised if he was a speck of stardust turned into a human, with him being so pretty and all. He was kind of like a shooting star too. If you look away for a second, you might miss him. But if you do catch a glimpse of him once in a blue moon, you can’t help but feel like the universe is on your side.
There wasn’t anyone left in the coffee shop but you after the last two customers left. It was close to 8 pm. The shop closed at 10 but considering the outdoor conditions, maybe you would be able to close a little earlier and get home before you wouldn’t have a way out. You finally finish wiping down the tables and pushing in all the chairs and take a second to look outside as you make your way back behind the counter. Gray dark skies darken the little part of the world you’re in and white flurries begin to fall, creating a light blanket of snow muffling the sounds of the earth the way a pair of fuzzy earmuffs might. As you watch the snowflakes fall from the inside of the café, mesmerized by their glistening, you hear the door chime. You snap out of your trance and scurry behind the counter, not looking in the direction of the door trying to make it look like you were working. Still not looking towards the customer, back towards the counter, you turn on the coffee machine and greet whoever walked in.
“Hi, welcome! How are y-”
You turn around and stop in your tracks when you see him. Blonde hair disheveled as always and sullen eyes looking ever so slightly relieved, cheery even with the way you catch the subtle glimpse of what can best be described as a hopeful twinkle in his pretty brown eyes.
“Hi love.” The sound of his deep Manchester accent floods your body with warmth and you can’t help but smile.
“Well, look who it is. I haven’t seen you around here in ages! Started to think you found another shop.” You giggled, leaning on the counter in front of you subconsciously bringing yourself closer to him.
“How could I? Could never find service like yours anywhere else. No one could make my tea as good as you can either.”
You look down and smile abashedly, flustered by his kindness and a bit shocked at his talkativeness. You figured it was because of the privacy you two had alone in the café.
“I’m so sorry to show up with the weather like this, but I just got back from work yesterday and I’ve been missing a bit of warmth.”
“Oh don’t apologize! I always have time for you.” You smile at him and you both look at each other for a bit, both getting lost in the other’s gaze.
You snap out of it first, jumping back from the counter to turn to put the kettle on.
“Come, sit! I’ll make your usual.” You gesture to the bar stool at the counter and he pulls a chair out and watches you make his tea.
“Earl Grey with just a splash of vanilla creamer still, yeah?”
He chuckles and crosses his arms on the counter leaning on them.
“I don’t know how you do it.”
You smile to yourself, back still turned to him as you prepare the loose leaf tea to steep. You’re glad he’s finally opening up to you a bit.
The weather woman on the TV comes back on, gaining both of your attention. You turn your head from the tea kettle to the TV above the counter to the right, leaning back a bit to see and Simon looks too.
“Well it looks like we’re getting more snow than initially expected tonight. From now until early morning, expect blizzards with over ten inches of snow. Stay safe and warm everyone!”
You and Simon look at each other after the weather woman finishes and the TV goes to a commercial break.
“Damn, I should take this to go then. Don’t wanna keep you open too long. They got no one else helping you close? Would hate to have you drive home in this.” He says.
You panic for a second hearing his plans to leave the shop so you can close and your eyes widen.
“No no! It’s- it’s ok.” You say a bit loudly.
“If anything, I’ll take the subway. I don’t live too far from here.” You reassure him.
He frowns at the thought of you traveling home alone.
“Well, maybe I’ll walk you then. It’s the least I can do to thank you for your hospitality.”
“I’d like the company.” You say with a smile.
You pour his tea into the cup and go to place it in front of him, but pull back at the last second.
“Oh wait! I almost forgot, don’t drink it yet!” You say as you jog over to the flower plant by the coffee machine, picking a tiny purple flower off of it. You bring it over to the cup of tea in front of him and place it in.
“I take care of the plants myself. Don’t worry, they’re clean.” You smile and he looks at the little flower floating around in his tea.
“You know, I only put flowers in your tea.” You giggle, and he looks up.
“Thank you. It’s lovely.” He lets himself smile back at you, heart melting at the way you’re so giddy and happy to serve him and treat him so special that he doesn’t even notice the storm outside, and neither do you.
You do notice, however, that you never caught the man’s name.
“You know, I never got your name, after all the times you’ve been here.” You say to him.
He takes a sip of his tea, and hesitates for a second, thinking about whether or not to tell you his real name. You don’t know about his job, or who he is at all. No one other than the Task Force does. He wouldn’t want to put you in any danger. He’s already risking enough going out in civilization without his balaclava, figuring that it would attract more attention due to him sticking out being the only one with a mask on. But as he places his cup down on the saucer and looks up at your wide, patient eyes awaiting his answer, what kind of person would he be to let you down and kill the anticipation in your eyes, let alone lie to you? After all you’ve done for him? All the kindness you’ve shown? Maybe just a first name would be ok. After all, anyone could find out his first name from anything really. He opens his mouth then closes it, then opens it again.
“Simon.” He answers. “My name is Simon.”
Your heart flutters and melts like a snowflake falling on salted pavement at the sound of his name coming from his voice.
“Simon.” You repeat back smiling. “Simon Simon Simon.” You chant in a sing-songy voice, getting used to the name. “That’s pretty. It suits you.” You say, cheeks starting to hurt from the smile plastered over your face.
Simon blushes at the sound of his name falling from your lips, finding himself wanting to hear it more often.
“What’s your’s love?” Simon asks.
You tell him your name and it was his heart’s turn to flutter and melt. He smiles at you and whispers your name to himself, familiarizing himself with it. He’s never felt so warm before, and he was quite shocked with the feeling, almost alarmed at it. He straightens up in his chair to try and stop himself from losing himself in you.
“That’s beautiful.” He smiles again, and takes a sip of his tea again.
A bang on the glass of the window on the other end of the shop grabs both of your attention. You both turn your heads and look outside, forgetting about the storm out there.
“Geez I forgot it was a blizzard out there.” You say worriedly. A gust of wind picked up a fallen tree branch and thrusted it against the window pane which caused the noise.
Simon notices the worry in your voice and expression and an instinct to comfort and protect you takes over his being. He’s afraid of it. It’s unfamiliar, but he can’t help it, especially not when your pretty face looks anything but happy and the way your baby hairs messily poke out from your ponytail.
“Let me help you clean up. I don’t reckon anyone else coming by tonight. I’ll walk you to the subway.” Simon says, almost too enthusiastically and who are you to say no to those warm, honey brown eyes.
But as you open your mouth to answer, the power goes out. Causing you to yelp instead of speak, leaving you and Simon in the darkness, both snapping your heads up at the ceiling to try and find where the light bulbs were that just flickered out.
“Well, closing is gonna be a bit more difficult tonight than expected.” You say.
“Shit.” Simon says.
There isn’t any light except from the glow of the snow from outside, but you can still make out Simon’s strong features, still looking so handsome, even in the dark.
“There’s a fireplace by the couch. It’s gas powered so it should work.” You leave from behind the counter, stumbling around to find your way over to it. You feel around the mantle and sigh in relief when you find the switch. You switch the fireplace on illuminating the coffee shop and Simon gets up from his seat to walk over to the window, leaving his tea on the bar top. He looks outside and you make your way over to his side, and look out the window too.
“The snow is too high to open the door, let alone walk in.” Simon says.
“Simon?” You say in a quiet voice.
He looks down at you, and you never really realized the height difference between you two, considering he’s normally sitting down at a table when you are talking to him.
“Yeah hun?”
“I don’t think either of us are going home tonight.” You say and wrap your arms around yourself due to the sudden chill in the room from the power outage.
Simon looks out the window again, thinking of how to answer, or what to do next. Then, he laughs to himself, then looks back down at you.
“Unfortunately, I think you might be right love.” He says, and the pet name immediately warms your insides up again.
You both stand there staring out the window a bit, unsure of what to do next.
“Well.” You say, breaking the silence. “Might as well get comfortable then. Looks like we’re staying the night.” You blush to yourself at the thought of spending the night with Simon. You also think to yourself how you’re asking for a raise when you get out of this mess. You move to sit on the couch in front of the fireplace, and Simon follows, sitting on the opposite side, nervous to get too close to you. You take off your apron and let out your hair, and Simon can’t help but watch you and how your features become more defined with the light and shadows created by the luminosity of the fire. You looked so beautiful and Simon has never felt so safe and happy. It’s weird to him, considering he barely knew you at all, and he’s not used to feeling this way, but he lets himself, just this once.
“So.” You say, leaning back into the couch, taking off your shoes and pulling up your legs to sit criss crossed.
“What do you do for work?” You turn and ask him, and his smile fades a bit. He turns his gaze towards the fire and you notice the change in his demeanor and you regret asking.
“Can’t exactly talk about it.” Simon says, remembering that, right, he had a job. A scary and difficult one.
“Oh. Sorry.” You apologize, and turn your gaze to the fire as well.
Simon notices the embarrassment and regret in your voice and he snaps his head back to you.
“Oh no no it’s ok love. Not your fault.”
His reassurance makes you feel a little better and you regain some of your confidence.
“Well, you already know what I do for work.” You joke.
Simon chuckles at that and leans back in his seat, looking back at the fire, getting more comfortable.
“That I do.” He says, and he spreads his legs and puts an arm on the ledge of the couch behind him, making you blush since his arm was almost touching you.
“And you do a damn good job at it.” He smiles.
You look at him looking at the fire and you notice the reflection of the fire in his eyes and how well the warm colors compliment each other. You wished you could stay here like this forever, just looking at him, just being with him, even if you barely knew him at all. There was something so domestic about Simon. Something so… homely.
Even with the fire going, and despite the warmth Simon made the inside of your body feel, the cold air of the dark coffee shop began to prick at your skin once again, causing you to wrap your arms around yourself as you and Simon sat in a comfortable silence staring at the fire as if it were telling you both it’s deepest darkest secret. Simon notices you curl in on yourself and he turns his head towards you.
“Here.” He says after a second, analyzing why you curled up, and he begins to take off his fleece lined cargo jacket.
“Oh no I’m ok.” You lean away from him a little, not wanting him to sacrifice his comfort for yours.
“You’re shivering love. It’s ok, here, take it.”
You reach out and grab the heavy jacket and place it over your shoulders. It was big, heavy, warm, and smelled like him. Like mahogany teakwood and firewood that once burned but went damp from rainfall, leaving only clouds of smoke as evidence of it ever being set aflame. He smelled earthy, musky, but nice and clean with a hint of raw sweetness like a jasmine flower, and you drowned in it.
“Thank you.” You said shyly, flustered at how intimate wearing his jacket was.
“Looks better on you than it does me.” Simon says, and you giggle.
You look at each other and smile for the millionth time that night and scooch a little bit closer to him and he does the same. The blaze of the gas fireplace lighting up the little corner of the coffee shop you two sat in with a low orange glow.
You glanced out the window which reminded you of the storm outside. All of a sudden, you remember something.
“Oh my god!” You gasp and stand up, startling Simon a bit.
“What is it?” Simon asks, a worried expression on his face.
“I completely forgot oh my god.” You say as you throw his jacket off and scurry off the couch to a closet hidden away in a tiny hall for the employees to walk through to get to the break room next to the kitchen. Simon turns his body and watches you run away, hearing your shuffling about in the hallway.
You feel around the closet and finally feel a cardboard shoebox.
“Ah, yes.” You whisper to yourself as you pull the box down and search in the dark through it. You feel what you’re looking for and you smile to yourself, picking it up out of the box and holding it to your chest and you place the shoebox back into place and begin your way in the dark back to the couch.
“Everything alright back there?” Simon asks, body still turned towards you and you emerge from the dark back into the light of the fire, something small and rectangular in your hands.
“I remembered that we have this for emergencies.” You say, and pull the item away from your chest, presenting it to Simon as you take your place back next to him on the couch, sitting on his jacket.
I thought this would be helpful so we don’t have to drain the battery on our phones.
In your hands was a tiny, black, battery powered AM/FM radio.
Simon looks at the item in your hands and smiles at how cute you are. You would have no way of knowing Simon’s expertise when it comes to radio and communication especially in a dire situation. He finds your enthusiasm so adorable and he lets you have your moment, especially when you look so proud of yourself.
“Smart.” Simon says with a smirk.
“The batteries should be fully charged, since we never used it before.” You say as you fidget with the tiny box, trying to find the switch to turn it on.
“Who knew we would ever have to us-” The sound of static abruptly interrupts you and you jump a bit.
“Ah, there we go.” You say and adjust the dial on the side to find a signal, and the sound of a weather report slowly fades in, drowning out most of the static.
“Blizzards tonight with winds exceeding 40 mph at the least. Power outages have been reported across the city. It’s unsure when the power will come back but live updates will be provided.” You and Simon stare at the radio in your hands and listen to the report with eager ears.
“You know, it’s funny.” You say, speaking over the radio, gaining Simon’s attention. “One of the first things you said to me was that the reason you came by today was because you needed something warm, which is kinda the exact opposite of what’s happening now.” You say with a chuckle. Simon nods his head with a smile.
“Well, I didn’t exactly mean something warm like the temperature love.” He says, and you blush at his reference to what could only mean you, keeping your gaze on the radio in your hands, trying to ignore his eyes boring into you.
You adjust the knob on the radio and switch it to FM, trying to find some music to ease the tension in the air between you two. After a few adjustments and turns, the static fades into soft jazz music and you light up at the lovely, rich sound of the saxophone and piano through the tinny sound of the old speaker. You place the radio on the coffee table between the couch and the fireplace and wrap Simon’s jacket around yourself again. The warmness of him, the fire, and the relaxing jazz music made your head fuzzy, and you could feel yourself getting tired. You move in closer to Simon and he puts his feet up on the coffee table, crossing one ankle over the other. You feel him hesitate a bit before he places an arm around you, securing you by his side.
“Is this ok?” He whispers to you.
“It’s perfect.” You look up at him and whisper back with a smile. “Even though we don’t know how long we’re gonna be stuck here.” You laugh to yourself at the absurdity of the situation, still finding it hard to believe.
Simon hums in agreement, but he doesn’t mind, and neither do you. Not when you two are together like this. You lean your head on Simon’s chest and he turns his body towards you slightly, making himself more comfortable for you. You two hardly knew each other, only the feeling you both got when you were in each other’s presence, but it still felt like you two didn’t know anyone in the world but each other for your whole lives. You let yourself drift off to sleep against Simon’s chest, wrapped in his jacket with the soft light of the fire and slight staticy jazz music from the mini radio, letting yourself leave the stress and worry of the aftermath of being trapped at work for the next day. Simon lets himself drift off to sleep too. The snow is too piled up for anyone to come in or out, and it’s not like you two are completely stranded, so Simon’s survival instincts could be put off for a while. This was a problem to worry about tomorrow. Because right now, all that mattered was the softness Simon was experiencing inside that he never felt before, even if it terrified him. It just felt right.
And even though Simon’s heart was cold, harsh, and sometimes unforgiving, matching the conditions of the current weather, the only thing that was cold right now, was the world outside the coffee shop on the corner of your little city.
#call of duty#cod mw2#simon ghost riley#simon riley#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost cod#christmas#merry christmas#happy holidays#<3#ghost#ghost call of duty#series#fanfic#call of duty fanfic#fluff#fluffiness#fluff fic#fanfiction#cod mw#cod#cod mw3#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#simon riley cod#simon ghost riley cod#simon ghost riley call of duty#x reader#coffee shop au#coffee shop
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a very godbur christmas
a godbur smut fic with so much fluff
➸ note; happy birthday to me and happy Christmas event kick off to you all, have your first smut fic from me, don't expect another for a good while! it literally took me like five months to write the actual sex part but merely less than a day to write the aftercare- also thank you to my darling sister for reading it every time i forced asked her to bc i needed an outside opinion
➸ pairing; godbur x afab!reader (no pronouns or gendered terms aside from anatomy is used!)
➸ summary; you make a request during one of your long stint stays, only to be met with two more gifts you didn't see coming. sweet sex with darling godbur !
➸ warning; afab anatomy is mentioned, like pretty blunty at that- size kink, daddy kink, soft top wil, a bit of degradation but honestly wil can't do that for long, p in v, penetration, kissing, really soft aftercare, praise, subspace if you squint, non sexual use of daddy after the fact. excessive pet names (puppy, bunny, honey, hun, pup, baby, sweetheart, sweetie, darling, love, love bug), use of slut and whore (the brief degradation). observations of will being a lanky, giant of a man (nonsexual context then)
➸ age-rating; 18+
➸ wordcount; 4.5k
main masterlist // godbur masterlist
MINORS DNI!! please do not read if you're under 18 and if you do, that's your fault, not mine.
you'd be spending a lot of time with wilbur lately, staying longer and longer each stay. being held by him, having quiet domestic moments with him. not to mention getting ready for christmas, decorating and baking and filling him in on each and every tradition. you knew you'd have to go soon, be sent back to mortality. this never lasted long. you both knew it, despite your deep growing hatred for the fact.
after you told him of the gift giving tradition, he'd been asking what you wanted for christmas, what he could give you. despite the fact he would without a doubt give you way more than you asked for.
you turn over to face him, a hand on his chest as you look down at him, "I know what I want," your statement was straight forward but the god before you still gave you a look of question.
"what? eternal life here? I told you, love, you can't-" you cut him off with a quick and open mouthed kiss to his lips and he gasped softly before settling into it. his hands which you noted were soft and rough at the same time, perfectly shaped-
"no, I know I can't break you on that," you pause, sitting back on your knees beside him on the bed. you had your eyes angled down on his, both of your gazes were filled with lust. you didn't need to say it, you were both thinking it, "I want my visits worth while," you didn't elaborate, you simply left it there and everything was understood.
your lovely god smirked, he smirked with such conviction and teasing that you couldn't tell if it annoyed you or made you feel giddy inside. you were so unsure. he grabbed your hips with his hands, and pushed you to lay on your back as he rolled his body on top of yours.
"oh darling, I'll make it all worth while," he spoke lowly, a sort of desire and desperation braided into his voice. his words came out as almost a growl or sorts, but fuck, it only made the fire spread and build inside you. you wanted him. badly.
"don't hesitate then," you smirked and just as your words finished leaving your lips, he dove down to take them into a bruising kiss. lips melded together in a deep exchange, teeth pulling them and nipping and you swore he nearly drew blood. he kissed you with such haste and need, you weren't sure if this man was a graceful god or an animalistic human starved of this intimacy.
wilbur began to run his hands down your sides, the kiss still intense and connected. at first, his palms and fingers grazed and held your body with a soft care, and then you whimpered and a switch flipped inside his brain. he let out a soft groan, his kisses leaving your mouth to messily line your jaw, down onto your neck. he nipped and nibbled, a suck or two here and it felt like the gods were gracing you with a personal fireworks show. and in all honesty, one of them was.
his hands got harsher in their grasps and squeezes after that switch of intensity was flipped. he was groaning roughly into your neck and his hips leaned down, meeting yours gently and you gasped, your hands finding purchase in the curls on his head, tugging softly. you felt a hardness graze your thigh through your pants and his.
his body was warm as he presses himself against you, he's warm and comforting, like a golden wave of energy surrounding you-- you pushed him up and you began to undo the buttons on his shirt and he lowered his kisses for a moment before he swatted at your hands gently.
"no, no, baby- I do the undressing, got it?" He growled softly into your ear before nipping at the earlobe and he pulled back. he hastily undid the buttons on his shirt, pulling it off slowly, making a show of it. you squirmed under him and he shot you a warning glare. you wanted to know what the warning was about, you wanted so desperately to find out. "don't be such a whore, sweet one--"
His words drew a whine from your throat and he only chuckled, "I die so I can see you and be fucked-- that's more whorey than trying to take off that damn shirt-"
His lips quirk into a sharp smirk, looking down and shaking his head, "oh you're right, aren't you, baby? you're such a whore you find anyway you can to be under me, hm?" He holds the smug smirk as he dives down to attack your neck in kisses, not bothering with your shirt. he's just as desperate as you, with the way he's hastily undoing his pants, unbuckling and unbuttoning before throwing them on the ground beside the bed.
He looks to you, slender fingers ghosting over your own jeans and you nod. He hesitates, "words, baby."
And you nod again, rolling your eyes in a playful and loving way, "yes, you may,"
"Good baby," he growls softly, doing the same as he did with his own pants, pulling them off and throwing them aside without a single care. he dives down again, kissing you deeply and taking your bottom lip between his teeth. he nips and sucks at it, your whining echoing against his skull and he can't help but whimper against your mouth. you want to throw a snarky comment at him, break his ego just a little bit, but you stop. your mind is fuzzy, for one, too over took with anticipation to come up with any decent comeback. but, for two, you can't help but feel an incessant love in his actions.
he hooks his fingers around the waistband of your underwear, "Color, darling?" he speaks so softly, a whisper, a promise. he's so soft all of a sudden and you haven't a clue why.
"Green, daddy," You say it without thinking, without second-guessing the syllables that spill from your mouth. when he freezes and looks at you, your face burns red. you hadn't ever used the name in a non joking context (what he thought was joking), let alone in a sexual manner, so to say the least; it caught you both for a whirlspin.
"sorry- sorry, wilbur- it was an acc-" you're immediately cut off by a searing kiss, one that makes you take a few steps back and squeak before you're able to settle into it, to realize it's even happening. when you do, you sigh, grabbing onto the curls on his head and tugging slightly, whimpering into his mouth and whining against him. he slides your underwear down, letting it bunch at your knees, he's slow with how he sinks his hand down. two fingers between your folds and circling your clit in a smooth and soft motion. you whimper, a soft moan following as he pulls back, still circling it and adding slight pressure as he holds your face in the other hand. his knees are what's keeping him above you as he kisses your jaw so sweet and soft.
"how are you feeling, baby?" wilbur whispers, and you let out another sweet moan as he adds a bit more pressure. tt's gentle, it's loving and it feels so fucking good.
"Good.. sooo good.." your words slur a bit, and he chuckles at how far gone you already are. how long has your desperation been this bad?
"mm, you miss my hands, honey? They way they press-" he emphasizes with his fingers pressing against your entrance, but not sliding in. You're not as ready as he wished you'd be. granted you were soaking the moment your sweet moment with him turned less than sweet, he's specific with how much teasing and taunting he does before he… commits, shall I say. "you miss the way daddy makes you feel, huh? The way I fill you up? when you're so full of me you can't do anything but whimper.. such a beautiful little slut, huh? all for me.. for your god."
you nod softly, wrapping your fingers into your curls as you whine; eyes wide and soft, full of love for the god above you. words slipping away, unable for you to even use them, to speak back to him.
"love," he grabs your chin, pinching it between his fingers and you whine at the way his hand no longer rests between your legs, "use your words, baby," he coaxes, your legs wrapping around his waist.
"mm, yes," you mumble, squirming under him, whining and desperate for more of his touch, "please?" you beg, not elaborating yet it's both clear what you're wanting. you want more than just his fingers, need more-- but he has his methods and you're much too busy feeling to even bother with arguing.
"just a few more minutes, okay? only a few, bunny," he leans his face down into the crook of your neck, placing soft gentle kisses on the skin as he slips his pointer finger inside you; grazing your walls as his thumb gently circles around your clit. he watches as you open your eyes to glare at him, visually telling him off for the teasing he's doing. he chuckles softly, "okay, okay, baby," another finger joins, and he curls them back as he begins to move them in and out. his mouth leaves behind marks in the wake of his kisses and you can't help but whine at every sensation and touch he provides.
as he moves to pull his fingers out, he goes back in; deeper. curling his fingers when he pulls back again, then spreading them gently, watching you closely for any sign of pain or discomfort you may be feeling. all he notices is the soft moans that slip from your lips every few seconds, a response to each touch he makes.
he uses his free hand to rub your cheek, keeping your eyes and attention on him as his fingers do the work, "bunny, how are you feeling?"
"mm more?"
"use more words, hun," you whimper, whining softly up at him and using your eyes as a method to convince him. it takes a few more moments of this before he nods, "color?"
"green," you smile softly, gasping when he pulls his fingers away, slipping them in your mouth to suck off your essence and taste yourself.
"good baby," his lips curve as he pulls his fingers from your mouth, wiping your lips with his thumb before he leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. he readjusts his position, pulling your bottom lip into his mouth as his hands lift your hips up to meet his, "color?" he mumbles against your lips; sounds of breathing melding together as he situates himself and lines up at your entrance.
"green, promise," you bite your lip, eyes cast up on him, your hands tangled in his curls as his hands slink up onto your back.
"good baby.. that's it," he hums, lips finding purchase on your neck; nipping and sucking with glee as he slowly sheathes his cock inside of you. you feel the familiar stretch of his size, eyes daring to look down at how much of it you can see through the bulge that always forms. his fingers ghost over the rounded area of your stomach and he groans, "already so full of me, aren't you?" he smirks, eyes met with yours as he rubs the skin of your stomach, settling inside you and letting you adjust to how big he is.
"mm yeah.. feels so good," you drawl out, eyes fluttering shut as you feel him bury himself just a bit deeper; hips flush with one another.
"oh, baby, I haven't even moved?"
"so?" you slur, biting your lip as he holds your waist, thumbs rubbing your skin.
"color?" he murmurs, moving to kiss gently against your neck and collarbone. you want to feel this heaven for a bit longer. you don't want him to move yet, you need to revel in the feeling of being so absolutely and desperately full of your god.
"yellow.. need a minute," you look up at him, fingers running over his lips and tracing the shape, and you lean up to bring him into a sweet kiss, pulling back and mumbling, "green,"
he smiles, kissing all over your face as he starts to move, thrusting with care as he builds up a quicker pace but being as gentle as possible. his hands roam your sides, fingers gripping as he shuts his eyes. groans slip from his mouth, lips agape and letting every moan and grunt slip past and travel to your ears.
"fuck, you feel so good, baby.." he groans, opening his eyes to glance down at you and watch your expression. your mouth is open slightly, whimpers and moans meeting his. he leans down to bring his lips to your neck again, leaving behind sweet love bites.
your sweet sounds of pleasure speak for itself, soft moans and whimpers are music to wil's ears. his thrusts become rougher, each one going deeper than the last; your mind reeling as your fingers grip the sheets.
"fuck, fuck," he grunts, face hidden in your neck as your back arches up into him, "feel so fucking good, baby.. such a good slut, mm? fuck you're so tight," he murmurs, using every word he can to his advantage.
his hands move from your waist to your hips, gripping tightly as his thumbs draw messy circles with every thrust of his hips. the sound of heavy breaths, moans and skin against skin fills the air; the scent of sweat and sex swirling with it.
you gasp at a particularly deep thrust, eyes rolling back as his head tucks into your neck. he slows down a moment, "you okay honey?"
you nod rapidly eyes shutting tightly now, and he slows a bit more, lifting his head and grabbing your chin with his hand; forcing you to meet his gaze.
"words, baby," he croons, kissing the tip of your nose before a moan slips past his lips.
"faster, please?"
he nods, smirking as he quickens the pace, leaning down to capture your lips in a sweet, slow kiss that says everything words do not convey. his hands fall back to your hips, lifting them slightly to give a better angle; and you whimper at the change. the way he goes deeper inside of you, the head of his cock grazing the deepest wall inside of you. his shaft running over that sweet spot with every thrust he makes, every movement of his cock.
your mind felt fuzzier and fuzzier by the second; melting into useless mush. there wasn't a way in hell you could speak if you had to now, all you could focus on was the tightening of your stomach and the absolutely heavenly feelings your darling god was providing to you.
wilbur begins to leave soft, messy kisses across your face as his thrusts begin to falter, getting messier and less precise with each movement.
"are you close, bunny?" he mumbles, kissing the shell of your ear as your moan a bit louder than you have, the knot in your stomach tightening tighter than it has before. you reach onto his back, digging your nails into the skin and creating half moons. you muster up the energy to nod your head, rapidly moving it as a yes; whimpers and whines following suit.
he grunts, hips sputtering as he draws closer to finishing, you swear you're gonna finish first, but lord knows he'll do everything he can to finish with you. he mumbles a quick question to you, if you want him to pull out or fill you up. and despite your melted mush for a brain, you mutter a response to the latter. you want him to stay inside you, to fill you up so full that all you can feel is him.
he glances down again, biting his lip and nearly coming right then when he yet again, sees the bulge he creates. he moves a bit faster, trying to bring you both over the edge. he reaches to grab your hands, intertwining your fingers together as he pulls you in for a final kiss.
"come with me, okay?" he mumbles against your lips before muffling any cry or moan you make as you come undone beneath him, he follows suit, filling you completely with his warmth. he gasps softly, pulling away from the kiss as he moves to rub your waist with his thumbs, kissing your face sweetly as you both catch your breath.
"baby, you did so good.. so so good. you took me so well, hun.." wilbur murmurs, fingers rubbing soft circles as he stays buried inside you for a few more moments.
"such a good puppy, yeah? sweet baby.." he sighs, pulling out not too long after he speaks, laying beside you and pulling you on top of him.
"so tired, daddy.." you whisper against his chest, nuzzling closer to his warm body as you can. his fingers sift through your hair, ghosting kisses on the top of your head.
"I know baby, but you were so good, did so good.. rest here, okay? get a little nap and then we'll have a bath, mm? how's that sound?" he coos, kissing your cheek as you sleepily smile, hands wrapping around his neck as he pulls you up closer by your lower back. he pulls the covers up over both of you, rubbing your back as he lets you nap for a bit.
before you fall asleep, you quickly mumble to him, "you were good too, daddy.. thank you," he smiles softly at your tired and slurred words, kissing your temple as he watches your breath even out.
he rubs your back as you nap happily on top of him as he watches you, thinking over the rest of his gift to you. this wasn't even part of it, yet you asked for it and he happily provided. he had other intentions, the big one being letting you stay in his world for eternity; or however long you wished. along with any other gift he had collected and created, wrapping it up and hiding it away in a room you never went into.
not too long after you fell asleep, he kissed your forehead and laid you down gently, tucking you in as he pulled on his underwear. he went into the bathroom, starting a warm bath with bubble bath and scented candles lit around the room. the lights off and the only light being the softer yellow light of the candles.
he sat on the edge of the bathtub, running his hand under the faucet, making sure it's not too hot or cold. he then put some rose petals on the floor and in the tub. he set up some towels on the stool beside the bathtub, with water and snacks for you both (but mostly for you).
he sat there waiting for the tub to fill before he heard you pattering close to the bathroom.
"daddy?" you called, sniffling softly.
"in here, pup," he smiles, standing up and walking up to where you stood by the doorway. you changed into a pair of his boxers and one of his shirts, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders. he kneeled a bit, rubbing your cheeks with his thumbs, "you okay, love bug?"
you nod, wiping your eyes a bit, a few more sniffles before you hum, "a bit, thought I lost you,"
he frowns, shaking his head before he pulls you into his chest, rubbing your back and kissing your head.
"I'm here, baby, it's okay," he coos, leading you over to the edge of the bathtub to where he picks you up and pulls you onto his lap, "how about you go pee while I go to the kitchen, yeah?"
you nod softly, hugging him close for a second before hopping off his lap and handing him the blanket before he scurried out to give you privacy; turning off the tub in the process. he hurried down the hall, slipping into the kitchen where he starts a cup of tea for you. you don't particularly like it, but he knows you'll drink it if he makes it for you. it helps your throat, you know this but it's just so gross to you. when the tea is finished, he carries it back to the bathroom, setting it on the little empty table next to the stool. he smiles as he sees you sitting on your knees, leaning over the edge and playing with the water.
"you ok, bunny?" he whispers, hand rubbing your back. you look up at him, eyes filled with love and adoration. you nod softly, standing up and reaching for him. he picks you up and holds you close, kissing your cheek over and over again.
"bath?" you mumble, body held tight against his. he chuckles softly and nods, pulling back and helping you undress and slip into the bath. he pulls off his own boxers before he slides in behind you, pulling you against his chest, fingers running over your belly.
he kisses your shoulder, his fingers sifting through your hair lovingly.
"how are you feeling, little bear?" you sigh, leaning your head back as he draws little shapes on your belly with his finger tips.
"tired, but good.. thank you, for earlier."
he smiles, nodding with a kiss to your bare shoulder, "you're welcome, sweetie," he pauses, nuzzling his nose against your neck and under your ear for a moment, "you want me to wash your hair, baby?"
you nod softly, humming, "mhmmm," then rest your hands on his knees, rubbing your thumbs over the skin through the water. you admire the difference of size between his legs and yours, giggling softly.
"what, bun?" he croons, rubbing shampoo into your scalp, running it through your hair as he waits for your response.
"I'm smaller than you, by a lot," you mumble, chewing your lips as you scoot closer against him.
"yeah, you are, huh? do you like that?" he asks, smiling softly to himself as he tilts your head back; rinsing out your hair.
"yeah, easier to be held by you," you sigh, shutting your eyes and leaning your head back further onto his shoulder. he smiles sweetly, a kiss to your nose as he finishes washing it.
he lets silence drape over you both, fingers rubbing circles on your belly again before he speaks up, "I have a proposal for you, for your Christmas gift."
"mm? yeah daddy?" you look up at him, eyes fluttering open as you gaze up at him, your hands reaching to play with his fingers.
"how do you feel about getting to stay here indefinitely, mm? be my immortal love?" he watches as your eyes widen with excitement, pure joy filling you as you sit up and grab his hands tightly, splashing some water in the process.
"really?"
"really, baby,"
you smile widely, muttering thank you's to him as you hold onto him, hugging his neck. he holds your back, pressing your smaller frame against his chest as he chuckles at your joy.
"are you that happy?"
"yes! yes, I am, I get to stay with you and be with you and I get to have you to myself. i get to have my daddy and- i- thank you," you whisper the last part, calming down from your rant as you take a few soft breaths. he reaches forward to caress your cheeks with his thumbs, rubbing back and forth as he smiles admiringly at you.
"I'm glad, and you're welcome, love bug," he pauses, gazing down at you as you move to sit in his lap, legs wrapped around his waist as he drops his hands to your back again, "no more sex for a while?"
"nuh-uh, I am sore, maybe in like... a week?" you suggest, shrugging nonchalant as he rubs your upper arms.
he chuckles softly, leaning forward to kiss your cheek, "youuuuu mean in a month?" he smirks softly, drawing his hands down from your arms onto your sides, pulling you towards him.
"well, maybe on Christmas Eve but-"
he smirks, kissing the corner of your mouth before he whispers, "in front of the fire?"
"with a candle?"
"look forward to it then, my love," he smiles, kissing your cheek before letting you rest on his chest, his hands running up and down your back as you sigh. you nuzzle your nose against his skin, finding peace in his warmth and touch.
not too long passes before he's sitting up with you, holding you by your lower back and pressing kisses to your jaw, "ready, baby?"
you nod softly, yawning tiredly as he steps out of the bath first, picking you up and standing you up against him. he holds you to his chest as he drains the tub, reaching over to the towels to wrap you up and help you dry off. he then dries himself off, which you just watch him with tired eyes, wanting to help but not having the energy to. you also knew he'd swat at your hand and get onto you. then he'd say; 'i'm meant to take care of you right now, not the other way around'.
you felt it was unfair, but arguing with him was fruitless. you whined softly, watching as he quickly put on his underwear. he smiles, shaking his head softly, "hold on, hun,"
he stood up, boxers on as he starts to pat you dry, "I wanted to help you, though," you whisper softly, looking up at him; damp curls hanging over his forehead as his light stubble gets highlighted in the dim light.
"mm.. maybe next time, okay? I'm here to care for you and you need to be cared for. deal?" you hesitate before you nod, letting him gently pat you dry, wrapping you up in the towel before he picks you up to carry you into the bedroom.
he sets you down on the edge of the bed as he hurries over to the dresser, grabbing a set of his boxers for you and one of his sweaters. you'd choose his clothes over yours any day and he knew that better than anyone. he helps you put them on before he brings you into his arms again, a few giggles from you before you both lay on the bed. you're tucked against his chest, head under his chin as he rubs your back again, playing with your hair.
"you okay, my love?" he whispers against your hair, kisses placed at the crown of your head as you nod.
"better than okay, daddy," you nuzzle against his chest, hands on his bare waist as you rub your fingertips and make shapes on his skin.
silence befalls on both of you, and he swears you're asleep, until you tiredly mumble, "I love you, daddy," which earns a smile and a sigh from him.
"I love you too, baby. you rest now, okay?" he mumbles, a few quick kisses before you fall asleep. he watches for a few minutes before falling asleep himself; feeling fully at peace with his love in his arms, being held and safe.
you'd both say this night was full of beautiful Christmas gifts, dare I say the best you could receive.
nsfw taglist; @lillylvjy @enanon (ask to be added!! 18+ only ty!)
#wilbur soot x reader#wilbur soot#wilbur#wilbur x reader#wilbur soot smut#wilbur x reader smut#godbur x reader#godbur#god!wilbur#god!wilbur x reader#godbur smut#god!wilbur smut#godbur x reader smut#god!wilbur x reader smut#wilbur smut
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no idea if ur still doing asks or not but I saw you on ao3 and was intrigued. anyway, steve with a protective older sister. there aren’t enough relationships like this so if you end up writing this prompt, have fun and thank you for reading this :]
Thank you for sending one in! I’m not currently taking longer requests like I’ve posted on ao3. I had them open for about two weeks in early may and had about 100 requests so I’m still working through all of them. I’m doing short headcanon requests as I have time for them while I’m on vacation so I’m gonna do that but I do hope someone sees this and maybe writes something long for it!
——-
Olivia was ten years older than Steve, so she kind of hated him when they were kids.
He was an accident, a big one according to his own parents.
But when she turned 16, her independence made her realize that she had limited time left before she left for college, and she wanted to bond with him.
They did everything together.
She took him shopping, on long drives, to the pool.
He was the happiest he’d ever been between the ages of six and eight.
When she left, she stayed in touch the best she could. She sent letters, called, visited him for his birthday and Christmas every year, which was more than his parents did once he turned 12.
She was the first person he came out to, despite what Robin believes. She was the first person he told about anything, really.
Especially Eddie.
They decided to keep their relationship to themselves for a while, but after telling Eddie about Olivia, he agreed he could tell her. It’s not like she’d tell anyone else anyway.
Olivia was ecstatic for him, but said she would need to plan a visit to “meet him, get to know him, have a chat.”
Steve wasn’t stupid, he knew what that chat would be.
Less than a month later, she was home, and Eddie was a nervous wreck.
Anyone who knew him well could see that he wasn’t himself; Quiet, shy, still.
“So. You’re dating my brother.”
“Yes I am.”
“And it’s getting serious?”
“It’s been pretty serious for a while. At least for me.”
“You’d marry him if you could?”
Steve started to interrupt, they’d only been together for a couple months, they’d only just said they loved each other a week ago.
“In a heartbeat.”
Steve’s mouth dropped open as he looked at Eddie.
“What?”
Olivia had a smug smile.
Oh, she was clever. Always had been.
“She asked and I’m telling her the truth.”
“You’d marry me?”
“Of course I would. I love you.”
“Yeah but-“
“Steve. Shut up,” Olivia laughed. “Let yourself be loved.”
“Yeah, let yourself be loved, Stevie.”
“Oh no. You two are gonna team up on me now, aren’t you?”
“Oh yeah. Unless he hurts you. Then they’ll never find his body.”
Eddie and Steve believed that.
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Rest
Fluff, Earth and Sky, plus Scott getting a nap. A.K.A Virgil gets Scott a weighted blanket.
EDIT!!! I used one of the Fluffember 2023 prompts in here but completely forgot to tag or mention that. Prompt is "Say: "Thank you for...""
A little inspired by the fic in where Virgil gets a weighted blanket (https://archiveofourown.org/works/23042224 Insomnia by chidoriXblossom), mine written because I think Scott would like one too. And we all know he needs more sleep. Plus soft furnishings!Scott!!!
Also- "This will be only like 500 words max," my muse lied.
So, another fic! Mostly was written on the bus on my phone, while wandering around the kitchen looking for something to eat yesterday, and on notes on my laptop when the Aussie internet and phone service met its untimely demise today.
@idontknowreallywhy With the last 2 paragraphs and hopefully less typos!! Hope you're feeling better too. SOFT FURNISHINGS!SCOTT!
-----
“Got you a present,” Virgil said, holding out a package wrapped in shiny blue paper.
Scott took it without hesitation, utterly unprepared, because this was Virgil, not Gordon or Alan or any other trouble makers.
He staggered at the sudden, unexpected weight. Scott kept fit for international rescue and lifted more than this on any given day, but dropped into his hands where Virgil made it look like nothing. Well, he nearly dropped it.
Just as Virgil lunged to snatch it back from the bounds gravity, Scott got a firmer grip on the package and hefted it up.
Virgil stepped back, grinning, nearly as excited as the day they sent Two to space. “Open it, Scotty!”
Scott dutifully sat down on the couch with the package in his lap, slipping his fingers beneath the tape.
“But why, why today?” Scott asked.
It wasn’t Christmas. He determined it was not his birthday after quickly counting out what month was it anyway because he’d lost track with how busy he’d been lately. He wasn’t forgetting something else was he? Some important event that wasn’t in his calendar? Oh damn, was he supposed to have gotten his brothers presents too?
Virgil sat down by his side.
“You’re alright Scott, no occasion. Present’s just because.” Virgil smiled.
Scott bumped his shoulder against Virgil’s in a wordless act of affection.
Then he turned to the shiny present he held, excitement bubbling up.
What could it be?
The package was soft, moving about fluidly within the paper, which would usually bring to mind something along the lines of an item of clothing. But whatever it was was far too heavy for that. Even allowing for thick denim or mission suit material, but Virgil wouldn’t wrap up a routine update, and that sort of engineering generally came under Brains’ department.
With the strange slithery, many grains of sand running over each other noise it made whenever it shifted, at this point Scott would expect a prank, even from Virgil.
Except that Virgil was right next to him, just as genuinely happy to be seeing him open the present as Scott was to receive it. Plus his brother was a frankly awful liar and trying to cover for it by, say, hiding his face in his hands while suspiciously giggling behind them had never worked once, for the record.
So Scott shook the package vigorously, when Virgil didn’t stop him assuming it was non breakable, then gave up on the whole guessing game to get to the real deal.
He tore the paper off with a grin, foregoing attempts to be neat about it because he just wanted to see what it was.
Copious amounts of blue fabric poured into his lap. Heavy, weighted fabric, trying to slither to the floor as he grabbed at it and pulled it up.
The thing was soft too, fluffy on one side and more fuzzy on the other, Scott discovered as he ran his hands over it.
A quilted blanket of some kind, a big one too. Scott hefted it and spread it across himself and Virgil to lay it out so he could see it.
It was— oh, “A weighted blanket?” he asked Virgil.
Virgil nodded, smiling widely, “I thought you’d like one of your own, since you seem to like mine so much.”
That was true. Even on the last movie night when Virgil had brought out his own green, wonderfully soft monstrosity of a blanket that practically required an exosuit to lift, Scott had ended up sharing it with him.
He never would have bought one for himself, he didn’t need it, but Virgil has seen and he had gotten him one.
Scott threw his arms around his brother and whispered a heartfelt, “Thank you for— for everything,” into Virgil’s flannel.
Virgil hugged him tight. “Glad you’re happy, Scooter.”
Scott swallowed. “Yeah. I am.”
He stayed in the hug, letting himself lean on Virgil.
Eventually he pulled away, bumping his forehead with Virgil’s briefly in another thanks, before flopping backwards onto the sofa.
He dragged the blanket over his body, snuggling down beneath it, to try it out properly.
Virgil tugged the edges out straight, patting Scott on the leg where he’d slung them over Virgil’s lap to fit onto the couch.
“‘M not moving ever again,” Scott mumbled.
The blanket’s weight pressed down on him comfortingly, like the soothing pressure of a tight hug. The fabric was soft, fluffy and warm, but not too hot for their tropical island. It covered his feet even when he pulled it right up to his chin.
Scott was in heaven.
When he shut his eyes for a moment, letting the sensation sink in, Virgil snickered. “G’night, Scotty.”
Scott opened one eye to glare, then the other. He was not going to sleep. He was just getting comfortable, that was all.
He reluctantly removed one arm from beneath the blanket, wriggling his fingers towards Virgil. He could still work if Virgil would just pass him his tablet.
Heaving a put upon sigh, Virgil reached for the side table and gave Scott his tablet, picking up his own sketch book.
Scott opened his emails, hiding a smile. The blue eyes act still worked on his brother, evidently.
Something, something, board meeting. Something, something, product development. He flicked a couple marked urgent open which weren’t even particularly important and shouldn’t have been flagged for him. He forwarded them on to be delegated to the correct people.
Learning that he didn’t have to do absolutely everything had been a long process, and he was getting better at it.
Scott continued through his bottomless inbox, so warm and comfortable he wasn’t even particularly annoyed with the uptight business people he had to deal with. Or at least he was minorly irritated as opposed to resisting the urge to throw his tablet across the room. He ran his free hand across the soft material, wound in the fluffy fabric while his other held his tablet.
The blanket was working wonders. Quiet scratchings of pencil on real paper from Virgil did aid his calm somewhat too. But the weighted blanket was definitely going down in his favourite items of soft furnishings. Trust Virgil to have gotten it for him and gifted it just because.
Scott’s blinks got slower and slower, and maybe he’d just rest his eyes for a moment, snuggled up on the couch with his brother and his new weighted blanket.
Virgil looked up from his sketchbook at his brother. The permanently stressed crinkles between Scott’s brows were smoothed out, his face lax, his whole body a loose jumble of limbs instead of a wound up ball of tension. His arm arced gracelessly off the edge of the couch, tablet fallen on the floor beside it. His other hand was still gripping the blue blanket, hanging onto it even in his sleep.
Because Scott was asleep. In the middle of the day, finally catching up on countless missed hours, even in the open lounge room, fast asleep with no signs of nightmares.
A line of pencil on thick drawing paper, and Virgil begun to sketch Scott’s sleeping form, seeking to capture such a rare moment. He had no where to be, a mug of coffee beside him, and art supplies at hand so he was content. Plus he had his big brother close, legs still in Virgil’s lap, and no way he was moving to risk disturbing Scott, even if he wanted to, which he certainly didn’t.
Virgil smiled down at Scott, infinitely glad his present of a blue weighted blanket was comforting his brother and letting Scott get some much needed and well earned rest.
#thunderbirds are go#thunderbirds fanfiction#scott tracy#virgil tracy#thunderfluff#earth and sky#soft furnishings!scott#astrawrite#fluffember#fluffember2023
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@antaxzantax Honestly, I’m not happy with how the story turned out, especially the second half. But I can’t think of a way to improve it right now. My brain ran out of ideas, and this was the best I could come up with at the moment. I hope you still like it a little bit and it’s not a complete disappointment. Thank you very much for your request.
Request: Alfred and Alexia’s 10th birthday (AO3 Link)
10th Birthday
Alfred read the letter for the fifth time. The content had not changed since the first time, the same birthday wishes, the same stories on the latest events, the same offer for the twins to spend some time in England. An offer that his father had already declined before handing Alfred the letter. Alfred had also looked at the photo enclosed with the letter several times before, showing Uncle Andrew, Aunt Theresa, Grandma Nora, and his cousin Mary[1] smiling happily at the camera. They probably took the photo at their Christmas party last month.
Alfred threw the letter on the table and looked at the watch. It was now 6.37 pm. Alexander had already wished the twins a happy birthday in the morning but wanted to wait until after work to give them their presents officially and celebrate. He said he wanted to be ready on time at 5.00 pm this year. An hour and a half later, there was still no sign of him.
Alfred had rushed through his tasks. He had thought that today, his 10th birthday, would be different, that his father would actually take his time. But he should have known better. Nothing but empty promises, like every year.
However, it was different. He had always spent these days with Alexia. The two had played together from morning to night every year on their birthdays. Even when Alexia had started her studies, she hadn’t let that get in the way, and if necessary, she simply took the day off. But his sister had also disappeared.
Since she had started writing her thesis, Alfred rarely saw her. Alexia lost track of time while writing. She appeared less and less often at mealtimes and stayed up late into the night. By now, she had lost several kilos, and her ribs and spine were clearly visible under her skin. And when she made some room in her schedule for Alfred, she usually fell asleep within half an hour. Alfred was worried about her, but Alexia didn’t want to hear about it, and Alexander didn’t even seem to notice her condition. Alexia wanted to hand in her thesis in mid-February. Then everything would be better, so she said.
“More tea?” a maid asked, interrupting Alfred’s thoughts. He held the cup out to her wordlessly; she poured him some and gave it back.
“Shall I cut the cake for you now, young master?” Alfred’s stomach growled, but he didn’t want to start without Alexia. The tea had to be enough until his sister was ready. “No. I’ll wait.”
“Should I perhaps ask Lady Alexia if she could spare a little time now?”
The question infuriated Alfred. He would have preferred to go to Alexia’s study himself and pick her up, but he knew how much finishing this thesis meant to her. And if it was more important to her at the moment than celebrating her birthday with Alfred, then so be it. How could that cunt think of wanting to disturb Alexia?
“If she has time, she’ll come here herself,” he snapped at the maid. Alfred also wanted to hurl a few insults at her but held back at the last moment. That would only lead to another discussion with his father about his behavior, and he wanted to avoid that, at least today.
The woman then bowed briefly and left the room. He was alone again. Alfred thought about what else he could do while he waited. Previously, he had tried to pass the time by drawing and reading, not very successfully, though. But the more Alfred thought about what he could do now, the more he realized that he didn’t really feel like doing anything. Instead, Alfred simply put his head down on the table, wiped the tears from his wet eyes, and pulled the letter towards him again.
---
Alexia typed the last word of the page on the typewriter and removed the sheet. This time, it had taken her seven attempts to type out the handwritten page without any mistakes. Her concentration was noticeably waning, and the coffee was no longer enough to counteract this. But all in all, she had made good progress. Alexia flipped through her handwritten work, still about a quarter remaining. If she kept up her pace, she should be able to meet her self-imposed deadline.
She stretched and yawned. Alexia was tired. No wonder she had rarely slept for more than a few hours per night recently. But she couldn’t allow herself a break, otherwise sleep would overtake her. Besides, it wasn’t that late yet. She should certainly be able to finish a page or two before the birthday party was about to start. Alexia just hoped that she could last longer today without falling asleep. Alfred had been looking forward to spending more time with her again. Alexia longed for it, too. She missed playing with her brother and felt guilty that she was constantly leaving him to his own devices.
But there was still some time before 5 pm, so Alexia inserted a new sheet into the typewriter and took a quick glance at the clock to confirm her assumption. She felt sick to the stomach. No. That can’t be right. The stupid clock is broken. Yes. It has stopped. But as if to mock her, the second hand moved incessantly. It was 8.54 pm. She was much too late.
Why hadn’t she realized how late it was? Why didn’t anyone come to get her? Her father. Alfred. Someone. She jumped up from her chair and ran to one of the cupboards. There she rummaged around in a box until she found what she was looking for – Alfred’s birthday present.
As they spent most of their time at the South Pole, the twins rarely had the opportunity to choose or buy themselves anything for festive occasions. Their father usually did this, or rather had it done for him. Apart from a handful of gifts, most of the things they got were pretty much garbage. Things that were apparently popular among children somewhere, but were either intended for a different age group or didn’t match the twins’ interests. At least the absurdity of some of the presents amused them both. However, presents didn’t matter that much. Spending the day together was the most important thing for them anyway.
This time, however, Alexia had begged Mary during her last visit to get her a present for Alfred that she hoped he would like and asked her to box it in such a way that Alexander wouldn’t find out what it was. As compensation for her absence, her brother should at least get some entertainment. Her father didn’t want Alfred to watch horror movies. He always said it would excite Alfred too much. Alexia didn’t think so, so she got Alien as a present for him.
---
Alfred was lying face down on the table. He didn’t react when Alexia entered the room.
“Alfie?” No response. “Alfred?” she said louder now. Her brother slowly raised his head, still sleepy and slightly disoriented.
“I’m so sorry, Alfred. I didn’t mean to keep you waiting so long. I didn’t even realize how late it was. You could have just let me know.”
“I didn’t mean to bother you,” Alfred said quietly, looking down at the floor.
“You’re not bothering me. Stupid.” Alfred still looked distressed, so Alexia hugged him. “You’ll never bother me.” At least he was smiling a little now.
“Where’s Father? Hasn’t he been here?”
“I have no idea. I don’t care either.” Alfred sounded bitter. Alexia didn’t want to let it show, but she was no less disappointed. Her father had promised. At least he could have spent this one day with them. Although Alexander was very interested in her education, he rarely spent the free time with Alexia. It was even worse with Alfred. Alexander was only really interested in him when he had done something wrong again, or he simply dragged him around as Alexia’s appendage.
“Oh, Alfie. We don’t need him. We’ll just celebrate on our own. Do you want some cake? I want a slice now. And when we’ve finished eating, we’ll open the presents.”
---
“Looks like that was the last one,” Alfred said as he rummaged through the mountain of wrapping paper.
“No, not quite yet. I’ve got another present for you too. Here it is. And this time, I chose it, not Father.”
“Alexia. Thank you. But you...”
“No. Don’t say anything, Alfie. Think of it as an apology for not being able to play with you so much lately. And now unwrap it already.” Alfred tore the wrapping paper and pulled out the VHS tape. Mary had put the movie in the empty Disney movie case.
“Sleeping Beauty?” Her brother looked confused.
“Just watch the movie, but when Father is not around. I’m sure you’ll like this version of Sleeping Beauty.” Alfred grinned.
“So, what is it really?”
“That’s a surprise.”
Suddenly, the door opened, and their father entered the room.
“Did you have fun? Good.” The twins didn’t answer and just stared at him skeptically.
“I know I promised I’d be here today, but there were problems with the ventilation system. All hell broke loose in the labs. I couldn’t leave. Everything’s back up and running now.” Alexander waited a few seconds for a reaction from his children. As there was no response, he continued. “Well, I’ve taken the day off tomorrow. So, what do you say if we catch up on the party tomorrow?”
[1] Andrew is Edward’s half-brother (Alfred and Alexia’s granduncle). He is only 2 years older than Alexander, though. His daughter Mary is 5 years older than the twins. Nora is Arthur’s 2nd wife and the Andrew’s mother, not Edward’s.
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So, it looks like Sophie is singlehandedly picking up the slack left by W&K. This latest foray to the ballet? Wow. This is beyond tone deaf. I can't be the only person who chortles at the absurdity of this situation where it's perfectly fine for Kate (and William!) to have her half-in and half-out. Charles needs to do something about this. I think this has the potential to be much more damaging to the BRF than H&M's shenanigans. Their buffoonery is obvious. She is a lot smarter than they are and has the upper hand. At this point, Kate is almost willfully sticking it to the BRF. She's maintaining the public's adoration without doing a damn stick of work. Maybe it's tit for tat because Charles gave her that nothing-burger of an Order and let Sophie wear HER tiara. Buckle your seat belts. It's going to be a bumpy ride.
It's no surprise that Ed and Sophie will pick up a lot of the slack. The Gloucesters too; although, considering Birgitte and Richard are both older than King Charles, it's unlikely they can pick up much more than what they are already doing.
Sophie will likely get the Garter next year, whether it's on her birthday or in the honours list. The Wales "fandom" will whine continually about how Sophie got it before Kate did, but yet they still fail to understand the distinction between being a celebrity and being a working royal.
Charles famously resented his parents' intrusion into his pre-marriage romantic life--e.g. Philip telling Sabrina Guinness to get out of Charles' life when she and Charles were dating--and their interference in his marriage to Diana. Charles is not going to interfere in his sons' marriages, whether they fail privately or publicly.
Charles' didn't give her the Order of the Companions of Honour because he was attempting to reward Kate. That kind of honor for a royal is a diss. He's lumping Kate in with all the celebrities. Kate was awarded that on 23 April 2024, a month after she sat on a bench and told the world that she was undergoing "preventative chemotherapy." Charles knows exactly what is going on with Will & Kate. If Kate's condition was truly as serious as so many people have convinced themselves it is, then he would have actually given Kate an honor more fitting of a royal and future queen, such as the Order of St. John.
Kate isn't sticking it to the BRF; she's sticking it to William. But also her choices don't really resemble someone who is going to have a reckoning regarding how she is perceived in the public. She already went through that months ago, most likely prior to 16 January 2024.
She has no problem now "speaking" to the public, but that's only after she is now allowed to choose "to take control of her own message." Gee, she somehow wasn't doing that on Mother's Day less two weeks prior to her sitting on a bench with BBC Studios.
What changed?
Because the stories of Kate not ever returning to any semblance of regular duties started more than three months ago. Which means that Charles knew that Kate had decided she was not going to ever "work" again when he gave her that "nothing-burger of an order."
And if the above statement is really true, then why did she not stop working last year after the coronation? Kate did regular engagements all through the summer, and then when she came back in the fall, she went on an unprecedented streak of wearing THIRTEEN PANTSUITS to her engagements. In fact, a year ago on 28 September, she had only worn nine of her thirteen pantsuit ensembles. (It actually ended up being fourteen pantsuits last fall if you count the white pantsuit at the Christmas Carol concert.)
And what did Kate wear at Trooping, Wimbledon, and in her perfume ad video? Not a single pantsuit.
I rest my case that Kate's pantsuits were just a pr stunt, no matter how much the Wales fandom applauded it.
So, yeah, it's going to be a "bumpy" this fall for the BRF, but Charles has known that it was going to be this way for a long time. As I've said before, Kate engineered her future as a public recluse. That's what she decided to do when she sat on that bench with BBC Studios. She had her come-to-Jesus moment, was denied entry, and has decided to go back to her previous dream of being a stay-at-home mom with an Aga. She doesn't care whether or not her statement about ballet is going to ruffle feathers because she already knows that her reputation is going to be cooked, regardless of the ballet. William is going to have to go out and do engagements with the public this fall, not her.
And Charles still owes me that letters patent update.
“I spoke in the car about the hole at the center of this doughnut. And yes... seems at first glance to fill that hole perfectly. A doughnut hole in the doughnut’s hole. But we must look a little closer. And when we do, we see that the doughnut hole has a hole in its center. It is not a doughnut hole at all, but a smaller doughnut with its own hole, and our doughnut is not whole at all!”
#ask#my gif#british royal family#duchess sophie#King Charles III#“Celebrity” Catherine Middleton#kate middleton#Catherine The Princess of Wales#cancer schmancer#stunt queens#Will & Kate's Covert Separation#William goes Full Spencer#NEVER go Full Spencer#Order of the Garter#Wales kid number FOUR#princess basement baby
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The Birds and the Bees
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Chapter List
1.Alexithymia- The Inability to Express your Feelings Parts 1 and 2
2.The Woes of Adolescence/ What the heck Happened that Summer Parts 1 and 2
3.Caught in a Summer Storm/ What the heck Happened that Christmas.
4.Summer Bluffs? Part 1
5.Disco, Strippers, and Margaritassss Part 2
6.Sleepless in a Hotel Suite Part 3
7.Shades of Pink
8.The Things I’ve Dreamed Part 1
9.Renewal Part 2
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And we've finally made it to part 2 of Chapter 2... Good grief I was hit with the most random wave of productivity. I'm making this post at 2 AM after writing for four hours. Sorry if there's any typos, this was honestly a product of me seeking comfort for my own inner turmoil and the result was FLUFFFF. So let me know what you think in the notes pleaseee, I beg. 👀
TW: Panic attacks, Kissing, and fluffffff. That's really it guys, enjoy!
The Woes of Adolescence/ What the Heck Happened That Summer Part 2
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“Yet the summer which was to change everything was coming nearer every day. When boys and girls are growing up, life can’t stand still, not even in the quietest of country towns; and they have to grow up, whether they will or no. That is what their elders are always forgetting.”- Willa Cather
Shay’s POV
The hours ticked by as Shay and Cash rummaged through boxes full of forgotten memories and unpacked feelings. Any lingering awkwardness from Cash’s prompt proposal for Shay to move in with him was long forgotten by the time Cash slipped away to get them takeout from the Trails End Bar in town. That intimate moment of fellow feeling they had shared had done a great job at prolonging the inevitable conversation they were bound to have for the time being. They spent the rest of their cleaning sipping on glasses of red wine and reminiscing about the happy carefree days of their youth. A prospect that usually had Shay in tears of hopeless yearning was currently filled with bashful giggles, rosy cheeks, longing glances, and fluttering butterflies. Shay supposed drinking wine with Cashton Ewing was a bad idea from the get-go, she was sure the consequences of such an act would be coming back to bite her in the ass soon enough. But she couldn’t help but want to enjoy a face paced blunder with her long-time crush while she could.
“I remember this sundress; you wore it on the last day of eighth grade” Cash mused pulling Shay’s old white sundress with sunflowers stitched on the bodice from one of the boxes with a soft smile on his face. Shay eyed the dress wearily; she remembered that unguarded garment and the scarring memory attached to it very well.
“Yeah, I did…” Shay mumbled before focusing her gaze back on the TV, she’d plugged in 13 Going on 30 not too long ago. The scene of Jenna’s less than stellar thirteenth birthday party was quickly unfolding on the screen. Shay couldn’t help but think about the last day of eighth grade, the day she’d tried her best to forget. Part of the reason she latched onto 13 Going on 30 was because she saw both herself and Cash reflected in Matt and Jenna. Shay felt like the movie was the closest she’d ever get to living out a romantic fantasy with Cash. Sometimes she’d forget she was watching a movie because there was a degree of mirrored likeness between her life and the world painted on the screen, from Jenna and Matt being best friends and neighbors, to Matt taking pictures like Cash, right down to Shay’s vexatious run ins with her own personal mean girl, Opal May Stevens. Shay had her fair share of mean girls throughout their childhood, that could only be expected when you were best friends with the prettiest boy in school. None of them were ever quite as mean as Opal May Stevens however, who had seemed to make it her mission to make Shay’s life a living nightmare about a month or two into that school year. Cash never seemed to notice of course and why would he really, Shay had all but figured out he had a thing for Opal May when she turned up at the movie theater that Valentines Day, she locked herself in a bathroom stall to cry. It wasn’t the first time Shay cried over Cash and Opal May nor would it be the last or even the worst. The worst breakdown she had in relation to her first crush and her childhood bully was reserved for the last day of eighth grade….
“You do always look great in a sundress you know that, Cherry Blossom. What happened that day anyway?” Cash’s voice lulled through the air, pulling Shay out of her dark inner ruminations quite suddenly. Shay’s green eyes strayed from the screen for a split second to see Cash’s ocean orbs gazing at her intensely.
“What?” Shay asked, her brows knitted together in confusion as she tried to recall what it was, they’d even been talking about. She’d gotten lost with the dull echoes of taunting children’s laughter reeling in the gloomy memory bank of her mind and the tiresome chanting of Opal May’s odious voice ringing in her ears. Shay felt Cash’s finger gingerly brush against her forearm, and she finally let her green eyes meet his blue ones. They gazed at her in a way that made her feel like he was trying to ground her and anchor her to him all at once. She always wondered how he could tell when she was being swept away in the murky currents of the more melodramatic waves of her angst filled musings.
“…The last day of school that year, I asked you to meet me out on the school lawn, near the gardens after school, remember? I waited for you, but you didn’t show and by the time I made it to your window it was locked, and you were hysterical…” Cash trailed, his thumb was now drawing soothing circles down the length of her arm so tenderly Shay thought her heart might burst. Shay found herself leaning towards Cash the way a moth is drawn to the light and warmth of a candle despite the way her brain was telling her it wouldn’t be a good idea. Her usual thoughts of caution were being overpowered by the shrill, odious singsong of Opal taunting “TWIRL” repeatedly.
People always talk about the prominent events in your life that change you for the better or for the worse. The ones that stick with you long after they’ve happened and even longer than you’d like them to. They’re pesky shadows that cling to your every move, tethered with you from the green cusp of adolescence to the weathered qualms of adulthood. Silently lurking, endlessly twisting, constantly weaving their influence over your unconscious thoughts and actions day in and day out.
Well, Shay’s earthshattering, life altering moment occurred on the last day of eighth grade and prompted her very first mental spiral. One that was bad enough for her mother to send her away for the summer and stick her in a therapy center in California. Of course, it was a long time coming at that point with her parent’s contentious divorce, Opal May mockingly reciting her end of the year English assignment to a group of her peers was just the final nail in the coffin that year. It only hurt all the more that the muse of that assignment was sitting right next to her now. Shay couldn’t help but assume Cash had something to do with Opal’s cruel joke to some degree…
“I didn’t show because Pete told me you wanted me to meet you by the science hall instead, remember? And I’m sure you know what happened and what Opal did, you had your fun joke let’s not rehash it.” Shay said dismissively, letting out a long sigh she busied herself rummaging through a box once more to take her mind off the memory fighting tooth and nail to free itself from the murky bank. Cash let out a sigh of his own, his fingers found their way to her thigh and resumed drawing soothing circles, but this time Shay found it more tantalizing than anything.
“Pete told you that… I never told him to tell you that Shay, I swear.” Cash’s voice was soft, but Shay could hear the overarching note of sincerity in his deep vibrato. Shay didn’t respond as her hand clutched a hard, glossy, and slightly weathered book and pulled it out of the box with a ghost of a smile on her lips. Her thumb glided down the picturesque lighthouse on the book’s cover, situated in front of a purple, pink, orange sunset.
“What’s it really matter now anyway Cashton? We can’t change the past and I don’t fancy dwelling on it all that much either.” Shay said again dismissively, her eyes were still trained on the book in her hands intently, Cash had given it to her as a gift one year. A photo guide of the most beautiful lighthouses the world had to offer because Shay loved them so much at the time. She still did, while she was living in New York she often wished the Statue of Liberty was a lighthouse instead. Shay felt Cash place a finger under her chin, gently urging her to meet his gaze and she did. Shay met his gaze with sad green eyes and a surprisingly heavy heart, despite the butterflies that fluttered in her stomach at the intimate action. She wished he would stop doing this stuff, touching her this way especially when it was clear it meant more to her than it did to him. Especially when it was clear it would always mean more to her than it did to him.
“It matters because you were a wreck that entire week Cherry Blossom, seeing you like that hurt you know. You were my best friend, you were so sad, you looked so broken, and for the first time ever I couldn’t fix it. Then you just went away for a whole summer, didn’t call, barely answered my letters, you shut me out and came back a different person Shay, that was scary” Cash admitted in a heartfelt tone, his thumb gently caressed her chin and his blue orbs bore into hers with an unreadable sort of intensity that Shay couldn’t place.
“Please don’t act like you don’t know what happened Cashton, you and Opal May spent the entire summer together while I was gone, and I know she couldn’t resist telling you about it. You didn’t miss me that much and it’s fine, really, I don’t care about things that happened when we were fourteen anymore, alright. I forgive you, let’s move on.” Shay lied, forcing a smile on her face, so she didn’t look as bitter as she felt inside. Cash’s expression hardened a bit, but his eyes looked as intense as ever before.
“Well, if you don’t care Shaylee Rose why is it you can’t tell me what happened or what happened to you that summer huh? I don’t appreciate you accusing me of doing something to intentionally hurt you, I’d never do that so would you please explain what it is you’re passive aggressively forgiving me for. Please… what did Opal do, did she hurt you?” Cash coaxed softly, Shay let out a sigh but made no effort to turn her face out of his grasp or move her body away from his tethering pull. She knew it was the wine talking for the both of them right about now, loosening their inhibitions enough to let his touches linger and to let her heart hope his touches meant more than they did.
“We need to talk about this Shaylee, I think we’d both feel better if we did…” Cash said in a gentle but serious tone, holding her gaze as his thumb trailed from her chin to her cheek. Shay let out an almost defeated sounding sigh, she knew he was right, she would feel better if she could find it in her to utter a word. She didn’t think she could, and she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to.
“Cashton Micheal, I don’t think I can talk about it, so can we please just keep going through this stuff… please” Shay pleaded feebly. Her panic at his prying was evident with every shaky syllable she uttered with tears brimming in her eyes, threatening to spill over any moment. Shay inhaled sharply and tried her best to blink the tears away, but a single tear broke free, rolling down the length of her flushed cheek seemingly in slow motion. Cash’s expression softened at the sight of the lone, melancholy drop of water almost immediately.
“Alright…shhh, we don’t have to talk about it. Don’t cry it’s okay.” Cash said in a low whisper. He wiped the lone drop away with the pad of his thumb tenderly before placing a kiss where it had just been. Shay fluttered her eyes closed and let out a content sigh at the feel of his lips against her wine flushed cheek. It surprised her how delicate his lips seemed to feel in contrast to his now giant muscled appearance. The gentleness reminded her so much of the Cash Ewing she knew before things changed so dramatically between them that fateful summer. Shay opened her eyes as she felt Cash start to gently toy with the ends of her hair.
“Maybe we should call it a day for now Cherry Blossom? It’s not like your mom is going to be back anytime soon. Why don’t we head out to the beach for a bit” Cash said in a soft tone, Shay felt a pang of guilt in her chest at the obvious sadness swirling in his blue eyes. Though his fingers were still toying with the ends of her blonde hair tenderly, Shay could feel him retreating from her on an emotional level and she couldn’t help but hate herself for it. That wasn’t her intention, she craved his vulnerability more than anything but only because her vulnerability was so difficult to articulate, so hard for her to put into words. She wished it wasn’t.
“Sure, I could go for a swim right about now. Let me just put some of this away first, remember this Cashy?” Shay asked, holding up the book with a trace of a genuine smile on her lips in an attempt to snuff the rising tension in the air. Cash’s blue eyes trailed over the lighthouse on the book’s cover with an almost melancholy expression on his face. Shay wasn’t sure what came over her but before she knew it her fingers were intertwined with Cash’s once more. Much in the same way he had grabbed her hand down in the kitchen though that somehow felt like a lifetime ago with everything that had played out between the two of them since they wandered upstairs. The wine was indeed a bad idea but at least they were holding hands again, Shay knew it wasn’t much but at least it was something. Cash’s expression softened as his eyes glanced down at their laced fingers before meeting Shay’s gaze with a sheepish grin on his face.
“Of course I do Cherry Blossom, I gave you that book for your tenth birthday. You were obsessed with lighthouses back then but judging by the dust on the cover I’d say that’s been up here since you got back that summer, huh” Cash said in a tone that he clearly wanted to sound nonchalant, but Shay could tell by the way his tongue glided over his inviting lower lip, it bothered him. A soft sigh escaped Shay’s lips and she found herself tightening her grip on his large hand quite suddenly. Partly to comfort him and partly to keep him from slipping away from her again.
“It wasn’t like that Cashy, I promise. I love this book, that empty book stand on my shelf was always meant for it, but my mom couldn’t remember where she put it when we started redecorating.” Shay said sincerely, it was true after all. Her mom had misplaced it shortly after they started painting over the pink clouds on her ceiling that September and Shay hadn’t seen It since then but, she looked for it every month for a year. “I have no idea how it ended up in the attic though. I swore I put it in my closet that day we started moving things, but you know my mom. Too nosy for her own good.” Shay tacked on jokingly, Cash chuckled softly with a sheepish grin still plastered on his face, but Shay could tell his blue eyes were searching her green eyes for something.
“So, you never looked inside of it then…” Cash trailed in a way that made Shay think he knew something she didn’t. His eyes quickly darted between hers and the lighthouse situated in front of that picturesque sunset several times before settling back on her face with an obvious blush on his cheeks.
“No, why, did you put something top secret inside of it? Am I going to find the map to DeDe Green’s missing gnome collection in here or something” Shay said in a teasing tone, Cash rolled his eyes, and another sheepish chuckle escaped his lips. Shay looked over at him curiously. She wasn’t sure what to make of his sheepishness, but she could only assume the two empty bottles of white wine they’d shared was the driving force behind the emotional roller coaster they’d taken the other on in the past few hours.
“Pete and I never touched those creepy gnomes Shaylee, I assure you. I don’t know why everyone always assumes we’re behind most of Plymouth’s long-standing mysteries, if anything you and I would be the more likely culprits. We were quite impish if you recall” Cash said with amused blue eyes, now it was Shay’s turn to roll her eyes though she now found herself eyeing Cash up in a sort of bashful curiosity.
“Well, if it’s not a map, what’d you put in here Cashton Micheal?” Shay asked, eyeing him up in lighthearted suspicion through her thick lashes. Cash bit down on his lip sheepishly, drawing small circles on the back of her hand so delicately it had Shay’s stomach swirling with bashful butterflies.
“Just a love letter or two… or fifty. Didn’t you notice it was thicker than usual” Cash said nonchalantly, Shay rolled her eyes at him once more, but they were still very much amused as they gazed into his deeply.
“Fine don’t tell me, I’ll just have to look for myself then huh” Shay said pointedly arching her eyebrow at him. Cash chuckled again; his cheeks were still adorably rosy under the golden hues of afternoon summer sun streaming in through the attic’s window. Shay stared at him for a long while, just admiring how pretty he looked wrapped in golden beams of light and felt her cheeks heat up for about the millionth time today. Still, she was happy most of the intense, mildly bitter tension that hung between them had dissipated even if it wouldn’t last long.
“Why don’t you believe me when I say these things Cherry Blossom, have I ever lied to you?” Cash asked in a teasing tone of his own, but his eyes were surprisingly sincere and undoubtedly vulnerable as they stared back at her intently.
“Probably because you’re Cashton Ewing, one half of Plymouth’s dynamic joking duo” Shay said pointedly, Cash let out a long sigh and resumed toying with the ends of her blonde hair. His thumb continued drawing circles on the back of the small hand that was still intertwined with his larger one. Shay inhaled sharply, having the sudden feeling Cash was going to kiss her though she wasn’t quite sure why. He hadn’t even inched closer to her, there was just a sudden shift in the air and a look in his eyes she couldn’t quite explain.
“You know, Pete and I only became close because I thought you read those letters I stuck in that book while you were away. So, I thought you just didn’t want me around you that much anymore” Cash admitted, his eyes were incredibly sincere, and his expression was quite serious with the afternoon gold dancing on his face. Shay looked at him in suspicious disbelief, searching his eyes for a tell or a ‘got ya’ of some kind but she couldn’t find one nestled in his orbs of ocean blue. Instead, they silently flicked to the thick book sat atop her lap, urging her to open it and find out the truth for herself. Shay wasn’t sure what to think, let alone do with herself if there was really a long-lost declaration of love nestled within the pages of the book he’d given her for her tenth birthday. She found herself replaying parts of the heart-to-heart mother daughter conversation she had shared with Maggie Harris before Cash came clambering through her bay window.
“…take going through your old things as an opportunity to look at stuff with a pair of fresh eyes, maybe there was something you missed the first time around, maybe you might even find yourself up there…hmm. Fourteen is a rough year for everybody, things that seemed easy to say suddenly aren’t…”
Shay swore she felt her stomach do a dozen flips as her green eyes settled on the picturesque lighthouse floating upon purple, orange pink hues and wispy clouds for a long moment. They flicked back to Cash momentarily, spotting the obvious sheepish grin still sat on his face as he gazed at her, and her heart knew he was telling the truth. Still, Shay found herself more conflicted than ever before, all the answers she yearned for from him her whole life were most definitely sat on her lap at this very moment. And yet part of her didn’t want it to be true because that would mean having no choice but to dredge up memories of that lonely summer. It wasn’t like she didn’t think Cash deserved to know, he did but part of her knew he deserved better than her. Shay didn’t want to admit everything wrong with them now, was her fault. She’d felt the pang of guilt in her chest more times than she could deny or play off in the last few days, and most especially in the last few hours. That deep seeded truth that she had quite possibly hurt him way more than he ever hurt her was too much to bear, too much to acknowledge. So, she bottled it all up and shielded herself behind plausible deniability. Habitual late-night mantras to try and convince herself that what she felt for and from him, wasn’t real. That the blushes, butterflies, and giddy hormones were never and could never be reciprocated because guarded, lonesome pining felt safer than unbridled love and passion. But now that Shay knew it was a tangible possibility, she found herself wanting it and him more than ever.
“Here” Cash all but crooned, lowering the hand that had just been toying with the ends of blonde hair he grasped her free hand and guided it to flip the book open. Shay felt a plethora of aroused giddy goosebumps prick her skin at the tenderly adorable action and found herself resisting the urge to crash her lips onto his more than ever before. The book now sat open on her lap and her green eyes instantly recognized photographs of smaller versions of Cash and her cuddled up under bright summer rays and blue skies. She remembered that day in Cape Cod quite clearly, they’d been looking for seashells in heaps of tan grainy sand the first summer after Huck Ewing left. Cash was notably happier that summer, Shay couldn’t help but smile at the memory despite how hard her heart was pounding at present moment.
“I remember that summer” Shay said in a soft breathless sounding tone, finally finding it in her to move and speak. She flipped through the pile of photos with a small smile on her lips, recalling every memory with a wistful feeling in her chest. One lone photo caught her eye, an old polaroid of Cash cuddled up in her bed asleep with the stuffed horse he’d won at the state fair for her the summer before eighth grade. Shay gingerly picked up the photo and closely inspected it with knitted brows. She couldn’t recall a time where she’d ever gotten out of bed before he did, even back then, she wasn’t an early bird like he was. She could tell by the soft glow spilling in through her smaller bedroom window, the picture was taken in the early hours of the morning.
“I don’t remember this one, when was this taken Cashy? We both know I’m never the first one out of bed” Shay said curiously, gingerly picking the picture out of the book and holding it up for him to see. Shay watched as Cash eyed the picture and swore, she saw another dusty pink blush sweep across his cheeks. Cash met her gaze with that emotion she could never quite place swirling in his eyes though her heart now told her what it could be, she couldn’t bring herself to believe it. At least not until three words rolled off his tongue and hit her ears like a warm lullaby, but part of her still felt like she’d never hear them. The nagging thought that his advances were purely sexual and nothing more had been nestled in the back of her mind since they had lunch with Pete and Daisy. Along with the even worse realization that she’d definitely allow it to happen just to finally have him, even if it was just once, even if it was just for a night and even if it didn’t mean the same thing to him as it would her. She’d handle the anguish of that earthshattering truth the morning after because she had to. Because, if his lips even brushed against hers, she knew, she wouldn’t be able to stop…
“That summer you went away I still slept in your room sometimes…all the time really. Your mom didn’t mind; I missed you and you weren’t answering the letters I mustered up the courage to send. I thought about flying out to California everyday just to see you, you know, but you said you needed space, and I didn’t want to intrude on your summer fun.” Cash admitted wholeheartedly, without even a hint of hesitation for Shay to fall back on. Shay took a deep breath, finding it in her somewhere, she turned to face him completely and with the action Cash’s thumb increased the pace of the circles he’d been drawing on the back of her hand. He was trying to sooth her in a way that made Shay feel they were on the same wavelength for the first time since they were thirteen. Shay found herself fighting the almost primal urge to capture him in a kiss once more because their eyes locked with such an intense familiarity it had her feeling breathless. As the first string of pure vulnerability rolled off her tongue with more ease than she thought she was capable of, since that morning they shared brunch. Even then she only scratched the surface, now she supposed she could say more without even going into the deepest crevasses that negatively shaped her woeful adolescence.
“I lied Cash, I didn’t want space, I wanted to be with you, and I wanted to write back but I didn’t know what to say. I was so confused about everything that summer, that whole year really. I just… didn’t know what to do, it definitely wasn’t fun, I was miserable without you, but I didn’t think you’d miss me that much because you had Opal.” Shay said, her voice was soft and trembling with every word, but her tone was perhaps the most honest it had been in years. She knew the confession wasn’t much in comparison to the things she held the closest to her chest, but she did see something within the blue orbs in front of her change. A look resembling realization but of what she did not know. She didn’t really have time to think much about it either because before she could register the fact that Cash’s face was inching closer to hers. Their lips brushed, in a way so unbelievably fleeting, yet so incredibly tantalizing, Shay thought she must have imagined it. In one of her daylight musings about amorous trysts with the boy next door, the only man who ever truly had her heart.
Shay gasped, gazing up at Cashton Ewing flushed and utterly dumbfounded when she realized he was so close to her, his handsome face was out of focus. All she could make out was a mess of blurry blue and the feel of his warm breath waltzing over her plump lips when the thought finally dawned on her that she hadn’t imagined it. Cash had in fact kissed her for the briefest of moments and with that realization, what was left of her faux resolve shattered. Shay didn’t give it much thought before she launched herself into Cash’s arms and crashed her lips onto to his, latching onto him like he was the only life preserver out in a sea of deep blue. Almost as if he was the only thing keeping her from being swept up in a tidal wave, the only thing keeping her from floating away, in a way he was.
Cash let out an audible groan that sent shockwaves of both arousal and pleasure radiating to Shay’s warm core. She felt dizzy as his strong arms snaked round the small of her back, carefully trying to pull her small frame even closer to his than she already was. Shay let out a breathless groan of her own as she tangled her small fingers in his soft grey tendrils the way she’d been dreaming of since they were teenagers. The kiss deepened in a way that teetered on a gentle, demanding sort of synchronized hunger that made everything around them seem to fade away. It was perhaps the most in sync, the most in the moment, Shay had felt with Cashton Ewing since that Valentine’s Day they laid on a frozen pond, staring up at the stars and feather like snowflakes. Shay had thought nothing could top the way she felt that night, lying next to him on a sheet of ice while he stared at her like she was the center of his whole world, but this moment took it all. It almost made the twelve years of silent pining and sleepless nights worth tiresome treading up a slippery slope, worth it. At least before reality set in and Shay found it in herself to let them both up for some much-needed air. They sat there in silence for what felt like forever. Eyes closed, panting, unmoving, and still clinging to each other in a sea of blue seemingly trying to process what had just happened. Shay immediately found herself wishing she hadn’t dared to come up from something as silly as oxygen because the act of doing so, brought her back to earth.
❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
Cash’s POV
Cash wasn’t quite sure what he had done to get to this moment. With Shay, the love of his life wrapped up in his arms. Kissing him the way he had only ever dreamt of for the past twelve years, part of him still couldn’t believe it was real. Not even when she pulled away to catch her breath, Cash found himself just staring at her. Taking in the way her perfect chest rose and fell while she sat straddling his lap, eyes closed, and cheeks tinted the most adorable shade of pink. It was moments like these Cash wished he had his camera; he’d take pictures of Shay all day if she’d let him the way she used to when they were free spirited kids running along sandy shores. Cash could never quite pinpoint why those days felt so far away. Perhaps it was the weight of getting older. The inability to block out the anxious internal ramblings that plague the dreaded period of one’s coming of age only seems to get harder as the years tick by. It’s only when you muster the courage to no longer let those anxious Broadway shows in your head no longer rule your life. Sometimes, it’s easier said than done but for reasons Cash couldn’t understand everything about that kiss felt easy, freeing even. The last time he’d felt this uninhibited was that summer before eighth grade, the last true summer he had Shay had spent together. Sometimes that summer felt like a lifetime ago, but this one kiss somehow made it feel closer than ever before, he could almost see it now. With the late evening sun streaming through the attic window, cascading over Shay’s sun kissed skin and short, bouncy blonde hair. It always seemed to frame her heart shaped face to some sort of ethereal perfection.
“How are you even real…” Cash breathed out just above a whisper, more so to himself than anything. His tone was soft but somehow still managed to make Shay jump in surprise where she still sat on his lap as his vibrato cut through the silence they’d fallen into. Cash held back an amused chuckle watching her pretty green eyes fly open to meet his smiling gaze. His smile faltered slightly as he quickly assessed that her green orbs were flooded with a stream of fear. He couldn’t remember the last time Shay had looked at him with anything other than what he could only describe as a cute sort of annoyed look on her face. Sometimes she put in the effort to hide it behind a tight smile that never quite reached her pretty eyes. Cash had grown to appreciate the effort because it meant maybe she thought about him half as much as he thought about her.
“Didn’t mean to frighten you, Cherry Blossom” Cash cooed, reassuringly tone running his hands down the small of her back in soothing motions with a bashful, yet comforting grin on his face. Shay wordlessly stared back at him for quite some time, her face and eyes were unusually expressive for the first time since they were hormonal teenagers.
“…I’m so sorry…” Shay finally croaked with tears brimming her eyes, her small arms wrapped around her torso in a clear effort to comfort herself. Cash couldn’t help the way felt his heart drop to his stomach at how frail her voice sounded as it floated out of her now quivering lips. This wasn’t the reaction he was hoping to get after an earth-shattering kiss like that, but it certainly put things in perspective for him. Shay’s inability to recount what really happened that day she refused to open her window or why she went away for a whole summer was one born out of anxiety and fear. Fear of judgment, the fear of Cash’s judgment to be exact. Cash watched Shay’s chest heave rapidly up and then down with soft blue eyes, a mix of sweat and tears fell from her rapidly moving eyes. They scanned the room, refusing to meet the blue eyes sat before them, searching for an exit the same way they had that last Thanksgiving they’d seen each other …
“You don’t have to be sorry, Cherry Blossom. I’m not…that was perfect” Cash said in a soft but careful tone, reaching up to wipe away tears rolling down her cheeks tenderly. He knew what he had to do now. It was something he should’ve at least done that Thanksgiving everything went wrong. Looking back at it now Cash could see that was the day Shay had tried to open the window for him again. He tried to convince himself she was just “asking for a friend” but he knew she wasn’t. Cash would be lying if he said his guilt for that wasn’t what spurred him to beat Tyler half to death in a hotel lobby that snowy day Shay called him in tears. A night Cash was most certain Shay didn’t remember but that was a conversation for another day, for now he’d comfort her in all the ways he wished he could over the last twelve years…
“I shouldn’t have done that. I’ve ruined everything… I’m so stupid!” Shay said between gasps and soft sobs. Cash shushed her, tightening his gentle hold on her now trembling body as she attempted to squirm off his lap. Cash knew what this had seen her like this only twice before. She was pulling away from him again both physically and emotionally the same way she had back then, and he wouldn’t let her do it. He couldn’t let her do it at least not now that he saw a possibility of this ending the way he’d only ever dreamt of… He just had to get her out of her head long enough to see that he’d loved her and always had.
“You didn’t ruin anything, Cherry Blossom, you’re not stupid. I’m going to take you downstairs it’s okay” Cash said calmly, still wiping away hot tears from her flushed cheeks with determination in his comforting blue eyes. Shay didn’t respond, her eyes seemed to still be looking for a flight-based exit strategy part of Cash wasn’t even sure if she heard him over her hyperventilating. Still, he guided her small trembling arms to grab hold of his neck.
“Hold on to me Cherry Blossom. You’re going to be okay; I’ve got you” Cash cooed in her ear reassuringly, moving his hands to grip the back of her thighs. He slowly rose to his feet taking great care not to jolt her already form too suddenly as he weaved his way through half unpacked tattered brown boxes. Shay seemed mostly unaware of what Cash was doing or where she even was until he made it to the top of the stairs, her small arms tightened around his neck greatly.
“I’d never let you fall, Cherry Blossom, you know that” Cash cooed along with an unrestrained string of sweet nothings. They poured out of his mouth the way waves crash on the sandy shore, smoothing her over with everything he had in him. And for once it felt easy, showering Shay with praise and care the way she’d done for Cash every night he’d crawled through her window battered and bruised. That feeling he had for her on those nights, that level of reverence he held for her even then at the ripe age of 7 never went away. It only bloomed, blossoming the way a cherry blossom does in spring with dazzling hues of pink.
“My chest hurts, Cashy, I can’t breathe…” Shay finally said still struggling to catch her breath when Cash finally strode into the kitchen. Her face was pale, and tearstained as she gazed up at him with the most helpless green eyes, he’d ever seen on her in his life. Cash gently shushed her once more, planting a tender kiss in her soft blonde curls, part of him wanted to cry right along with her. There was so much pain in her eyes and Cash didn’t know how he hadn’t seen it before but now that he had he would do everything within his power to snuff it out.
“You’re having a panic attack, darling. Just breathe honey, I’ll get you some water and your snacks and we can watch some Harrison Ford movies” Cash crooned, attempting to set Shay’s shaky form on the living room sofa but her grip on his neck only tightened. Where she even found the strength to cling to him this was way beyond Cash right now.
“Please don’t let me go, Cashy” her shaky voice hit Cash’s ear like some soft lullaby, but it was enough to deter him from setting her on the sofa. Cash nodded, silently plopping down on the sofa with Shay gingerly cradled in his arms; the action was enough for Shay’s breathing to slowly even out. Her green eyes were still clouded with a subtle amount of fear as they gazed up into his timidly.
“I told you, no judgment on my part Cherry Blossom, remember?” Cash said placing a few more reassuring kisses into her soft curls with the same matured reverence he’d harbored for her since his youth. Before he softly wiped and kissed the few lingering tears on her flushed cheeks. It was hard to believe they’d had that conversation some hours ago a few feet from where they were no because it felt like they’d moved mountains since then. Cash felt Shay truly relax into his touch for the first time since they were kids. Smoothly melting into him and his comfort the way sand smooths under crashing waves of blue. Cash was sure it wouldn’t last too long; Shay had made it clear she was going to need a lot of reassurance if this thing between them was going to become anything like the way he hoped. Anything like the way he dreamed but for once Cash felt confident in his ability to get her there and that was more than enough…. That was everything.
🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝🐦🐝
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April TBR 2024--
This next month is set to be full of rereads, hockey romances, and new to me books. It is also the month I'm starting a certification program so it will probably be a bit of a struggle to get through this month's TBR. I don't even remember the last time I've thought that about a month's TBR. I really hope I have as much fun with this TBR as I'm expecting to. I've really been in the mood for these rereads and these hockey romance so I'm excited to finally get to it.
Silver in the Bone by Alexandra Bracken-- This is just one of a few rereads this month. Book two in the series comes out next month. I originally read this one as an ARC so I definitely need a refresher first. Tamsin Lark is a mortal with no magical talent who was never meant to break into ancient crypts or compete with sorceresses and Cunning folk for the treasures inside. But treasure hunting is the only way she could keep herself and her brother Cabell alive following her thieving foster father's disappearance. Ten years later she's looking for a ring that is supposed to save her brother from a curse. It's based in Arthurian legend.
Teen Titans: Beast Boy by Kami Garcia and Gabriel Picolo-- Another reread before a new book in the series. I remember enjoying this one slightly less than Raven's book, but I still enjoyed meeting a new character and getting their origin story. I also felt like it addressed an issue that isn't brought up a lot: male body image issues. We see it addressed a lot in fiction for girls, but there are boys who also go through this growing up. Plus it's beast boy and lots of green animals.
The Score by Elle Kennedy-- A hockey romance! I've been so in the mood for hockey romances this year. I don't know if it's because I found a few new to me authors and bought some kindle books for Christmas or what. In this one we follow Allie Hayes who is in crisis mode. Graduation is looming and she's dealing with a broken heart thanks to the end to her longtime relationship. Wild rebound sex is definitely not the solution to her problems, but gorgeous hockey star Dean Di Laurentis is impossible to resist. Just one though because even if her future is uncertain it sure as heck doesn't include Dean. It seems like he's going to pursue her after she puts him in the friend zone following their one night stand. I love it when the guy falls first or the guy is pursuing the girl so I'm looking forward to this one.
Stars and Smoke by Marie Lu-- The last of the rereads for this month. I'm so excited for the next book too. In this one we follow an international pop sensation named Winter Young who is brought into the world of spies when a major crime boss gifts his daughter a private concert with Winter for her birthday. Sydney Cossette is a member of the elite covert ops group who is forced to work alongside Winter to infiltrate the crime organization's inner circle. This was such a fun and quick read for me last year and I can't wait to go back into this world of glitz, glam, and spies.
Bad Men by Julie Mae Cohen (NetGalley)-- This one just sounded so good when I saw it on NetGalley. It's unhinged women at its finest. Saffy Huntley-Oliver is an intelligent and glamorous socialite; she also happens to be a proficient serial killer. Over the course of fifteen years, she's dispatched bad men--rapist, murderers, domestic abusers. But leading a double life has left her lonely. Dating's rough when your boyfriend might turn out to be your next victim. Saffy thinks she's finally found a truly good man in Jonathan Desrosiers, a true crime podcaster. This is a feminist thriller that asks if even a serial killer can have a happily ever after. My hopes for this one? Rich people drama and some mad women.
The Hemlock Queen by Hannah F. Whitten (New Release)-- The second book in the series is finally coming out. This series starts with Lore, who has a dark power and a hidden past, as we follow her into the intrigue of the Sainted King's royal court. The king and his priest manipulate Lore and have her spy on the prince in order to determine just who is killing the villages at the edge of the kingdom. We follow on from the events of the first book in this new one.
My Lucky #13 by Piper Rayne (Kindle)-- A hockey player who is going through a scoring draught is worried he's going to get traded before the deadline if he doesn't turn it around. Following a New Year's Eve with a woman, he has a waterfall of goals and knows he has to see her again. She wants nothing to do with him and he feels his has to change her mind. A hero falls first sounding story that I'm so looking forward to. I will say that there's a very obvious hockey error in the synopsis of this one and we all know I'm a little picky about hockey details. But I'll try to keep an open mind on this one.
Just Do This One Thing For Me by Laura Zimmerman (Library)-- I'm going to pull the synopsis straight from GoodReads since it's a Mystery/Thriller and those are hard to explain at the best of times: "'Just do this one thing for me.' Drew's mother says it more often than good morning. Heidi Hill has been juggling shady side hustles for all of Drew's seventeen years, and Drew knows that 'one thing' really means all the necessary things her mother thinks are boring, including taking care of her fifteen-year-old sister and eight-year-old brother. In fact, Drew is the closest thing to a responsible adult they've ever known. When their mother disappears on the way to a New Year's Eve concert in Mexico and her schemes start unraveling, Drew is faced with a choice: Follow the rules, do the responsible thing, and walk away--alone--from her mother's mess. Or hope the weather stays cold, keep the cons going, and just maybe hold her family together."
#silver in the bone#Alexandra bracken#teen titans: beast boy#kami garcia#Gabriel picolo#the score#elle kennedy#stars and smoke#marie lu#bad men#Julie mae cohen#the hemlock queen#Hannah f. whitten#my lucky number 13#piper rayne#just do this one thing for me#Laura zimmerman
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