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GOJO SATORU: ââ YES, I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND, AND YES, SHE'S REAL! ââ
.àłàż streamer!au: what happens when your gamer boyfriend brings you on-screen for the first time?
contents: fem!reader. use of she/her pronouns + reader is referred to as gojo's girlfriend. toji slander bcs he deserves it.
author's note: everyone welcome streamer!gojo to the world! he'll be here for a while...
"oh, please," satoru laughs, leaning back and grinning at the screen in front of him. he tosses his hair, but it falls back into his eyes just seconds later. "no way you guys all thought i would lose that one. c'mon, have some faith in me!"
you watch satoru reply to the hundreds of comments lighting up the side of his monitor, smiling endearingly at the way he laughs at some and practically chortles at others.
it was only after the two of you started dating that satoru disclosed his streaming hobby, and to your surprise, he was pretty popular. thousands of people tuned in to watch him play some game or another every night, and well, it paid better than you'd expect.
satoru whistles, hands resting comfortably behind his head as a particular question catches his attention. "ah, do i have a girlfriend?" he muses, grinning as he shoots a quick side-glance at you. "yeah," he continues, snorting when what looks like a flurry of no fucking way's flood the chat.
he clicks his tongue disappointedly, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "what, did all eight thousand of you think i couldn't pull? thanks a lot," satoru deadpans, waving his hand and sighing dramatically. "i don't know what any of you mean. i'm a catch!"
you snicker at that, and your laughter only increases when satoru turns and gapes at you. he juts his bottom lip out, face sinking into an adorable pout at he crosses his arms. "even my own girlfriend's laughing at me," he mumbles petulantly. "hmph!"
satoru sticks his tongue out at you childishly, and you blow a kiss back. he pretends to faint before turning back to his monitor, quickly skimming the comments before he gasps. "what do you mean, she probably doesn't exist?!" he sputters, clutching his heart exaggeratedly.
the look on his face is priceless â imagine getting told by thousands of people that one, they think you can't pull, and two, that they don't even believe your significant other exists. naturally, satoru reacts as dramatically as ever. he pretends to ignore everyone in the comments before calling them out individually.
"oh, i see you, toji... fishy-guru," satoru gripes, wagging his finger at his screen. "my girlfriend exists and she's mine! don't even think about it." he pauses, squinting at the chat before correcting himself with an eyeroll. "fushiguro. whatever. either way, she's real and she's all mine."
satoru swivels his chair to face you, making an incredulous face as he gestures to the screen. "can you believe this?" he grumbles, ocean-blue eyes focused on you. "these guys don't think you're real."
you shrug, toying with the corner of his sheets as you smile back at satoru. he's so childish, but that's just one of the many things you adore about him. sure, he's an annoying brat, but at least he's a total sweetheart too.
your boyfriend extends his hand, beckoning you to come over to him. "c'mon, darling," he cooes, scrunching up his nose at you. "wanna help me prove these losers wrong?" satoru mouths please, and the puppy eyes he gives you are cute enough to convince you.
so you hop off his bed, running a hand through your hair as you stroll over to where he sits in front of his monitor. beaming like a kid on his birthday, satoru takes your hand and twines his fingers with yours.
smiling smugly, satoru pulls you on screen and into his lap, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. you watch the chat erupt with she's real's and how did he pull a girl like her's and smile, flicking satoru's forehead affectionately.
he ignores the thousands of dumbstruck users in his comments and holds you close to his chest, adjusting his grip on your waist to make his lap as comfortable as possible for you. satoru's adoring eyes are fixed on you, only you, even as his chat explodes.
suguru-geto: haha i already knew
toji-fushiguro: how the fuck did a loser like him pull her?
yuuji-itadori: gojo has a girlfriend??? what did i miss??
#osaemu#streamer!gojo#gojo x reader#satoru gojo x reader#jjk x reader#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#satoru gojo x you#satoru gojo x y/n#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen x y/n#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru x y/n#gojo fluff#jjk fluff#satoru gojo fluff#gojo satoru fluff#jujutsu kaisen fluff#gojo drabbles#jjk drabbles
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sweet child o' mine | pt. iv
to @mrsmando - without whom this insane story would never have happened in the first place. i love you i love you i love you thank you all so much for coming on this journey with me - it has been a blast. i hope you like where we turn out! love you guys always n forever x
pairing:Â neighbor!joel x fem!reader
summary: you're a mom. it's time to get your shit together.
warnings: bon jovi mention straight out the gate, labor/delivery [i have never given birth. those of you who have are nothing short of remarkable. please forgive if some of this is a little inaccurate or vague], use of pain medication during birth, description of pain and post-birth recovery, super emotional reader, unprotected piv, oral, alcohol consumption. DISCLAIMER:Â this series covers some issues which i know may be sensitive and possibly triggering to some. warnings will always be as thorough as possible, but if thereâs ever anything you feel iâve missed, please let me know. feel free to drop by my inbox anytime.
word count: 12k
pt. i / series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post đ©”
Itâs September twenty-third.
Well, by now, itâs probably the twenty-fourth. Youâve been a little distracted, rolling between the sheets with your next-door neighbor for the last couple hours.
The weddingâs still going strong downstairs. The same Bon Jovi song has played three times over. Tommy has called Joel to ask where he is so much that Joelâs phone is now switched off and shoved to the bottom of his bag.
Youâre slouched on the toilet in a sliver of moonlight. A fistful of tissue, panties loose around your ankles. Rolling your forehead side to side along the cool tile, heartbeat hammering between your temples.
Joel Miller â Joel fucking Miller â is in your bed. Naked, sweating, cock probably still half-hard.
This morning, the very idea of the man was an eyeroll. Stood in your mirror, promising yourself that this time tomorrow, itâll all be over with.
This time in a month, itâll be a foggy memory.
This time in a year, it â
His voice is muffled through the bathroom door. âDid you fall in, or somethinâ?â
You snort. The milky moon blurs across your vision when you pull yourself upright. You swipe between your legs and stand, flushing the toilet.
âI needed a fucking breather,â you tease, tiptoeing back across the room.
Joelâs stretched out; a worked arm draped along the headboard. Sun-kissed to the middle of his bicep, paler across his shoulder. One leg bare on the mattress, the other under the sheets. They only just cover his modesty â dark hair trailing beneath light silk just in time.
Heâs so big. Itâs like you never really noticed until now. He takes up half the bed, laying like this. And sure, youâre halfway to fucked, but â has he always been so handsome?
You flop down beside him with a sigh, curling up in the burrow of sheets at his side. Your eyes trail up his body â the sheen of sweat up his side, the dark, damp hair under his arm. All the parts of him youâve never seen before, will never see again.
You gulp. Quit fucking staring.
He doesnât notice, anyway. Heâs rubbing circles into his temples, grumbling. âHow many goddamn times are they gonna play Itâs My Life?â
ââŠfor Tommy and GinaâŠâ you nudge him, ââŠwho never backed downâŠâ
Joel chuckles, pulling his hand down his beard. âTwenty bucks says heâs changing that to Maria.â
âOh, for sure. I ainât going back down to listen to it, though.â
He hums in agreement, reaching over for his beer. His Adamâs apple bobs as he drinks.
âYou owe me, by the way. This is my room, remember? My fucking minibar.â
He pauses, the bottle against his bottom lip. His eyes linger south of your chin before he answers, âIâm paying for the damn room.â
âThen I want a drink from yours. Make it even.â
He clicks his teeth and drinks again. âItâs one beer. Call it an early birthday gift.â
You frown. âWhen the hellâs your birthday?â
âTuesday.â
âBullshit.â
âSerious. The twenty-sixth.â
You push yourself up onto your elbows; chest bare and on display. And itâs a strange feeling, how little you care. Twelve hours ago, you didnât know how close to sit next to him at the ceremony. How many times you could accidentally bump knees or brush elbows and it not be weird.
But in the last two hours, heâs made you come more times than you can count. More times than anyone youâve ever been with before â thatâs for sure. And youâve repaid the favor: the proof is still dribbling out of you. Still dripping between your legs, all pearlescent and warm. Youâre soaked, swollen, still sore from the size of him.
Itâs a fucking strange feeling, that you donât mind at all.
âHow old are you turning?â you ask.
Joel swallows. He settles the beer on his sternum, thumbing the corner of the label. Sucks in a deep breath and says, âForty-eight.â
âJesus,â you mutter, eyes wide.
He turns slowly, glaring at you. âHilarious,â he drawls, bumping the bottle against your tummy.
You hiss at the sudden chill. Wiping cold droplets from your skin, you swipe it from his grasp.
Joel pushes himself from the bed with a quiet groan and pads across the room. His cock sways with each step, an arrowhead of thick hair at its base.
He doesnât seem to mind, either.
You tip your chin back, taking a hefty swig.
The pulsing bass is heavier, guitar squeal sharper, when he cracks open the window. Cool air sweeps past the scent of sex and settles softly on your skin.
The mattress dips again as Joel settles back into bed. He pulls the sheet over himself, silk falling over the stubborn shape against his thigh.
âWell,â you pass him the bottle, âhappy birthday, old man. Hereâs to forty-eight.â
âHereâs to forty-eight,â Joel echoes, staring off into space, âand whatever the hell it has in store.â
1:29. 1:29. 1:30.
Itâs blurring across your vision. The pain and the panic and the blinking of your fucking alarm clock.
Your stomach is still tensed in the aftermath of the contraction; an ache like the slow sway of the ocean, a wave rolling off into the distance. Youâre hunched over the edge of the bed â knee bouncing, palms kneading your round belly.
âWeâre okay,â you whisper, blowing into the still night. âWeâre fine. Maybe it isnât labor, right? Maybe itâs just thoseâŠBraxtonâŠshitâŠHicks.â
The cicadas laugh as your uterus swings again.
Another kick of pain; a bolt that winds you, piercing from your stomach down between your legs. So slow it feels fucking personal.
Your back curls, nails digging into the mattress. You grit your teeth until it passes, then push yourself to your feet, reaching for your phone.
You think of Joel: the flecks of gold in his eyes, the rough surface of his palms. The fresh, woodsy scent woven into every thread on his shirt, seeping from every pore on his skin.
The way heâd pull you under his arm and walk you to his truck. Play more Eagles or whatever shit he has to take your mind off the pain â tell you he knows, he knows as you whimper in agony. The way heâd hold your thigh the entire ride, loosening it only to weave his fingers through yours.
Heâs in Houston, though. Heâs something like three hours away. Thereâs nothing he could do, even if you did call â even if he did pick up. Even if he got in his truck right this second.
Shit. Shit fuck shit. How are you in labor right now, on this fucking night? All your teasing, all your taunting the universe. You really think thatâs gonna happen? You think your kidâs that much of an asshole?
Yeah. Theyâre half you.
Youâre on your own. Itâs nothing new; youâve been on your own for most of your life. You drove yourself to college, worked your ass off, and sold your graduation guest tickets to your roommate. You found a job by yourself, moved back to Austin and turned it into home by yourself.
You havenât needed anyone or anything, since you were eighteen.
But â oh, Jesus, fuck it. This was a two-man job from the start. Some things you figure you can let slide â and having a kid seems like a pretty decent excuse.
Fuck it.
You move, hunched and hobbling, to the bathroom door. Slumped against the wooden frame, you cup a hand between your legs.
Sure enough, your underwear is soaked. The fluid trickles down the seam of your thigh, warm and thin. It glistens in the moonlight when you lift your fingers.
âShit,â you whisper. âGoddamn it, Duck.â
Body tingling and almost numb with pain, you scroll through your contacts to J. You stumble into the bathroom, wet fingers slipping around the sink. A weight begins to pull low between your hips.
Two rings and the tone cuts, his voice instantly spilling a cool comfort down your spine.
Thereâs no hello, no double checking that you havenât accidentally dialed him in your sleep. Only that trademark drawl, that flat tone youâd swear sounded bored, if it werenât for the haste with which Joel asks, âYou okay?â the second he answers.
As if he were awake anyway, just waiting for your call.
âYeah,â you choke, rubbing the nape of your neck. âI just called at one in the morning toâŠto say hi.â
He sighs, the crackle of breath echoed by the tinkle of wind chimes. The creak of wood as he settles into a chair on Vanessaâs parentsâ porch. âAlright, smartass. What is it?â
âIâmâŠIâm in labor.â
âMhm. That sure is funny, baby. Good one.â
You groan. âNo, Joel, I swear â I swear, I just went into labor.â
He pauses. The chimes titter in the background. âYouâreâŠYou ainât kidding me?â
The sharp peak of pain swipes the air clean from your lungs. The phone hits the sink with a clatter, drowning out your cry.
This kid is beating the ever-loving shit out of you. Youâd be embarrassed if you had the energy to think about it.
âBaby?â Joel yells, loud enough that the sound loops around the bowl. His voice lifts to an octave you didnât know it could reach. âTalk to me. Please, talk to me.â
Your fingers clamp around the phone. âIâm f-fine. Itâs fine. I just gottaâŠgotta change my fuckinâ sheets, Joel, my waters broke while I was sleeping ââ
âOh, Christ,â he growls. The door squeals as he storms back into Vanessaâs family home. âThe shâŠChange the goddamn sheets? You gotta get to a hospital, darlinâ!â
You laugh, head tipping back. âItâs fine,â you tell him. âFeels like the kidâs trying to kill me, but I can â shit, I can take âem.â
Thereâs the jangle of keys, the ruffle of a shirt being thrown over his head. âYeah?â Joel says.âYou can take childbirth, all on your own? Do me a favor and call a damn ambulance, baby.â
âAn ambulance,â you repeat, laughing again.
âYes, an ambulance. Call 9-1-1 right now. You want me to call âem? Let me go grab the landline ââ
âJoel, do not call an ambulance ââ
And if you thought youâd heard him at breaking point before â plucking your underwear from his lawn, dragging you around Home Depot, paling in your room with a pregnancy test in his hands â you know you have, now.
âYou gotta get to a goddamn hospital now, baby!â
His voice trembles at its end, quivers like the pluck of a guitar string. A high-pitched echo, a nervous vibration.
Joelâs panicking.
Itâs the second thing in less than five minutes that you never knew he could do.
âI canât afford a f-fucking ambulance, Joel,â you yelp, sitting back on the edge of the bathtub.
âI will pay for it,â he pleads, âIâll pay. Just â you gotta call them. You gottaâŠâ He sighs again, breath wavering. âYouâre in labor, and youâre alone. If anything happened to you, I ââ
A hushed voice interrupts him. Follows him through the house, knotting her nightgown around her waist and twisting her dark tresses into a ponytail.
âSheâs in labor,â Joel tells her. âI canât stay. Iâm going back for her.â
The porch door slams shut before Vanessa can reply, and Joelâs back outside again. Gravel crunching beneath his boots, crickets screaming in the background. âStill with me?â he asks.
âStill here,â you breathe, tracing your nails along your leg. âDuckie says hi, I guess.â
He hums. âHi, Duckie. You little shit.â
You rock back and forth, eyes closed. Breathing between contractions, your head low between your shoulders. âHow long will you be?â
The truck door creaks open. âIâm leaving right now. Iâll beâŠFuck, Iâll be a couple hours, at least. Iâm on my way, alright?â
Tears drip onto your bare thighs, the salt spilling into your mouth. âJoel,â you shake your head, âI donât think I can do this.â
âYes, you can,â he says. âAre you kidding? Got us this far ân now you want to bail? That ainât you, baby. Come on, now.â
âI wanna bail,â you insist. You slump to the floor, head lolling over the rim of the bathtub. Weeping like a little kid. âIâm scared, Joel. Iâm so scared.â
âI know you are. Lord knows Iâm scared, too â scared as hell. But ââ the engine roars to life, ââ I canât wait to finally meet this kid. Our kid. Canât wait to hold âem. Canât wait to see you become a mom, and me become a dad.â
âMom and Dad,â you whisper, sniffling.
âMom and Dad, right? Yeah. You can do this. I know you can.â
The bathroom blurs behind your tears. You close your eyes, replacing the pale night with warmer dawn. Replacing it with images of tiny hands and feet; missing front teeth and a love-worn teddy tucked safely into bed.
Joelâs voice is softer, kinder. Calmer, now that heâs closing the hundred and fifty miles between the two of you.
âJust â donât let the kid give you any shit, alright?â
The fear boils into determination. Something more irritating than it is terrifying. You inhale, blowing a heavy, shuddered breath to the ceiling. âWhatever, Miller.â
âAttagirl,â he says. âThatâs the spirit. Now, call a damn ambulance.â
With a scoff, you push yourself to your feet, waddling towards the foot of your bed. You sway back and forth, holding your bump and listening to the hum of Joelâs truck.
And then you hear it.
Three sharp raps, from downstairs.
You wander to the hallway, squinting in the dark. âJoel?â
âHm?â
âAre youâŠ?â
The sound grows louder the nearer you draw. Quick knuckles against your front door.
âAm I what, darlinâ?â
You lower yourself down the stairs, fist tight around the rail.
Itâs August again. Sunâs encore blazing through your kitchen windows, bleeding golden through your living room. Everything shining, everything new and untouched.
Knock knock knock.
Light satin, duck egg blue; string lights and a diamond-encrusted necklace. The bones of your wardrobe propped against your porch. A rattling toolbox hanging from his fist, a positive pregnancy test in yours.
The knocking halts when you flick the porch light on. She calls your name once, old voice quivering.
Your phone is still glued to your ear as you pull the door open. âAlâŠ?â
She squints at you and lifts a hand to shield from the light. Sheâs still in her pajamas â green dressing gown loose and lifting in the breeze.
Her eyes drop to the tee draped over your bump, the silver stream of fluid down the inside of your thigh. As she opens her mouth to speak, your hand slams into the doorpost.
âOh, fuck,â you groan, and Alice Brown steps straight over the threshold.
âAre you in labor? Oh, sweetie. Sit down, sit.â
She backs you towards the stairs. One bony, trembling hand around yours â squeezing as tight as you are. She rubs up and down your spine, shushing until the pain subsides.
You blink up at her glowing figure, haloed by the porch light outside. âHow did youâŠ?â
She hushes you with a finger in the air. âIâm up most nights. I heard you from the window. Have you called 9-1-1?â
You shake your head, beginning to cry again.
Alice just nods, dismissing your bullshit. âWhereâs your overnight bag, sweetheart?â
You toss a thumb over your shoulder. âItâs up in the nursery. I can go grab it ââ
She holds you still with a hand on your shoulder. âStay.â Another curt nod, then, âGet your shoes, get yourself over to my car. Do you need pants? You need pants. My car, right now.â
âAlice, you really donât have to ââ
âGet in the car,â she insists, climbing past you. âIâm right behind you!â
You watch her figure dissolve into the dim upstairs, and lift the phone back to your ear. âDid youâŠhear all that?â
âAlice Brown,â Joel replies, and you can hear the smirk in his voice. âWhatâd I tell ya? That woman doesnât miss a goddamn thing in this neighborhood.â
âThree centimeters,â the obstetrician says, covering your legs with the sheet. âStill a little ways to go.â
The suite is hushed and still. Walls an unoffending shade of oatmeal; decorated only with oak paneling and a framed painting of some lilies.
A nurse tilts the shades, averting the twinkling city lights in the distance. She turns and smiles â the same fucking smile everyoneâs been giving you since you set foot in the place. Head tilted, brows arched.
Sympathy that you want to chew up and spit back out at their feet.
You force yourself to smile in return, and she floats back out to the bustling reception.
âWill he make it?â Alice asks. Sheâs still in her pajamas; the floral print goes well with the interior of the room. âThe father, I mean. Joel.â
The obstetrician peels the gloves from her hands. She shrugs as she drops them into a wastebin. âI donât see why not,â she says. âThings are moving a little quickly, but I donât see you having your baby in the next couple hours.â
âYou donât know this kid like I do,â you groan, shifting in the bed.
She lifts the cardiotocograph reading, scanning the jagged lines. âYouâre doing great,â she says. âIâll be back in a little while. Just holler if you need anything.â She strolls off, letting the door sweep shut behind her.
Alice adjusts your pillow and squeezes your shoulder. She holds out a cup of water, guiding the straw to your lips. âHeâll be here,â she whispers.
You take a sip and settle back. âI donât think Iâm that lucky. I told him I hoped heâd get a flat on the ride there. This feels like karma.â
âWell, if itâs anyoneâs karma ââ she wiggles her fingers, ââ itâs his. Going to Houston was ridiculous in the first place. Hell, you two not being together is ridiculous.â
You scoff, shaking your head. âJust because weâre having a kid doesnât mean we should be together. You shouldnât be with someone for the sake of a baby who wonât even know any different.â
âRight, right,â Alice agrees, turning away. âYou should only be with someone if you love them.â
âExactly. And me and Joel â weâre not in love.â
She murmurs to herself. She lowers into a chair by the window, crossing her arms. âIâm seventy-three,â she says. âIâm not a damn fool.â
Something twists awkwardly between your hips. You wince, clutching your bump.
Duckieâs heartbeat pulses through the room. Muffled little bubbles of noise, popping one after the other. Strong and steady as hell â a determined little thing, the doctor said.
Donât I fucking know it, you thought.
You reach for the silicone mask and cup it over your mouth. The gas is cold and funny when you inhale, feeling it shoot straight for the back of your skull. It does little more than dull the spiking pain, but still â you tip your head back, eyes rolling closed.
You let yourself fade from the suite â its yellow lamplight and hushed chatter outside â to somewhere warmer. Somewhere brighter.
Birdsong high overhead, and the whispering leaves on the oak trees in your yard. The sweet breeze on your skin, soothing the sting of the sun. Prickling wood on your fingertips, the gentle strum of a guitar somewhere beyond the fence.
Peering between the slats, catching glimpses of him like watching a film reel. His head nodding, his foot tapping. The concentration tight on his face; the perfect pick and pluck of his fingers on each string.
Half-hoping that heâll spot you, scold you for spying and storm back into his house. That he might bring it up later â And another thing, while he whips his newspaper from your grasp, ignoring your cackling.
Half-hoping that he wonât. That heâll sit there at his back door, bottle of beer at his feet, playing to his audience of sparrows.
And youâll stand here, wishing you could ask the name of each song he hums.
The contraction splits your daydream in two.
In two hours, you dilate almost three centimeters.
You pace back and forth across the suite, pausing only when your womb clenches like a fist. The contractions are lasting longer, swinging lower, and punching harder. Theyâre giving you less recovery time; less of a chance to get back on your feet.
Itâs a fucking nightmare.
Joelâs still not here. Last you heard, heâd just hit Travis County. Twenty minutes, baby, I promise. That was half an hour ago.
It might be for the better that he hasnât gotten here. Youâve warned Alice three times already that you might just beat the shit out of him, whenever he walks through that door.
And you know what, sweetheart? She chuckled. I bet you could beat the shit out of him, sore as you are.
âFuck,â you cry out, collapsing onto the bed. You stretch out forward, head hanging between your shoulders, and gulp back more of the laughing gas. The ache barrels from your stomach to your hips, peaking in the very center.
Alice rubs circles into the small of your back. Itâs not helping, but you let her do it anyways. Gives her something to tell the neighbors that isnât damaging to your reputation.
âThatâs it,â she coos. âA little longer, just a littleâŠâ
The door clicks open just as the tense band begins to loosen.
Your head is spinning. The mask slips from your fingers.
Aliceâs hand pauses. ââŠa little longerâŠâ she repeats, voice drifting. Her weight leaves your back, replaced by something heavier, stronger.
Safer.
Someone grounding, someone smelling of pine and sweet spice.
He sits on the bed at your back and curves around your body. Lips to your shoulder like the sun in your backyard. His beard scratches against your hot skin.
You blink your eyes open.
Joelâs watch face winks back at you. His hands are over yours â bigger, wider. His fists swallow yours whole. They turn, slipping beneath your palms, and your fingers lace together.
âJoelïżœïżœâ you breathe, face turning in to his neck.
âHi, sweet girl,â he says, wiping sweat from your brow.
You fall limp against his chest. âHoly shit.â
He looks exhausted. Gray, almost translucent. Looks like heâs just driven a couple hundred miles, half asleep and wholly panicked.
But â heâs here. He made it.
The sight of him, the feel of him holding you upright, melts away any anger or resolve to fight back. For now, at least. Picking an argument can wait until there isnât a human splitting you in two.
Heâs here. Youâre not doing this alone.
âHoly shit,â Joel repeats. âYou okay?â
âHow did you get here so â?â
âNinety-five the entire way.â
You frown. âOnly ninety-five?â
âTrunkâs a hunk aâ shit,â he admits. âCouldnât break a hundred.â
Alice scoffs, somewhere across the room.
He cradles you, his lips to your forehead. âWhere we at?â he asks, staring at the paper churning from the cardiotocograph.
âFive, almost sâshit â six centimeters.â You clamp down on his hands, your uterus winding again.
Joel holds the mask back to your lips and you suck another chemical breath in. âSix? Jesus,â he gapes at Alice, âainât thatâŠainât that real fast? For â for your first?â
Your fingers are weak and shaky, resting on his knuckles. âYour kid has a sick sense of humor,â you mutter into the silicone.
âThat ainât from me,â he says. âThatâs all you, maestro.â
You turn closer into his shirt with a groan. Heâs solid as a rock, swaying you through it. Heâs here.
Alice swipes her coat from a hook by the door. She shakes her head, pulling it over her shoulders. âNinety-five, Joel? Sweet Lord.â
He rolls his eyes. His hand curves around your bump. âHad a little bit of an emergency, Alice,â he says, watching your face twist with pain.
âAnd what if youâd had an accident?â
âI didnât, Alice.â
âYou couldâve, goinâ that damn fast. Youâre lucky youâre even here.â
Joel finally looks up. âItâs four in the morninâ,â he protests, like a teenager. âLucky if I passed five cars.â
You give him a weak smile, lowering the mask. You wonât win, you mouth.
He presses his lips to your head. ââs too much fun,â he murmurs, and you snort.
âOh!â Alice throws a hand up. âIâm glad you find it funny!â She buttons her coat and glares back at both of you, hands on her hips.
Sheâs a busybody â has been since before you even moved in. She showed up on your doorstep on your first night with a casserole in hand, and made sure to get a good look at your living room before she shuffled back to her own place.
Always watching, always listening.
You never thought youâd see the day when youâd actually be thankful for her snoopiness.
âThank you, Alice,â you say, head tilting. âFor getting me here, for holding my handâŠThank you.â
Her expression thaws, eyes gleaming. With a sniff, she composes herself â and then points to Joel. âYou call me as soon as that baby arrives. I wonât sleep, Joel, until you call.â
âIâll call,â he assures.
She looks back at you. Balls her crepe paper fists, gives them a hearty shake. âGood luck, Mom,â she says, and with one last glance, slips out of the room.
Joel turns back to you, an eyebrow raised. âTake it she was out tendinâ to her tulips again?â
âYeah,â you snicker, âone in the morning, those fuckers had to be watered.â
He chuckles. âYou feelinâ okay?â
âBetter now,â you tell him.
âIâm so sorry, darlinâ,â he says, shaking his head. âI shouldâve been here. A goddamn idiot, headinâ off like that. So damn stupid.â
âShh, youâre here now.â You wipe the tears from the corners of his eyes. âI just needed you to be here.â
He nods. âIâm here, whatever you need. Tell me what I can do.â
You take a deep breath. âI needâŠâ
Joel straightens â bracing, ready to jump at your first request.
ââŠI need a fucking break, Joel. Iâm so tired, and this fucking kid ââ
âAlright,â he sighs, shifting from behind you. âYou and your goddamn jokes.â
You smirk, looking over your shoulder. âYou missed me.â
âHm,â he fixes the neckline of your gown, âI missed you. I really did.â
Born at 07:43. Itâs a girl.
Itâs like being broken open. Like splitting at the seams; your old self falling from you like shards of fruit. Separating, rolling apart; making way for someone older, wiser. Someone with all of the answers in the palm of her hand.
Mom.
You finally get it. She turns to you, finally glances over her shoulder. And sheâs no stranger â no one you havenât known your entire life. I know you, you whisper, nail trailing her smile lines and the pimples along her jaw.
I see you every time I look in the mirror.
Duckie is pulled from your body with a scream like bloody murder â a scream which matches the whimper you let out in shock, if not in volume.
The kid can scream. Jesus Christ, she can scream. It pierces the dull room; deafens you for a couple seconds the first time you hear it.
Youâve never heard a sound so fucking beautiful.
She wails as they lift her from your body. All curled-up, wriggling in the midwifeâs arms. She wails as they slot her beneath your chin, as they wipe the blood and amniotic fluid from her.
She wails until the moment her skin meets yours, and as though itâs all youâve ever known, you begin shushing her cries. Your arms close around her body, rocking her until she settles.
Her tiny hand grabs for something, for someone, for â
You.
Her mom.
âJoel,â you gasp, watching her tiny, pruned fingers clasp tight around just one of yours. âSheâsâŠsheâs so smallâŠâ
He sniffs in reply, lifting his hand from your shoulder to wipe his face.
You turn to look up at him.
He looks as broken open as you feel. Eyes bloodshot and soaking, tears streaming into his thick beard. A sob in his throat which chokes and silences him, until he catches your eye and he canât help but laugh with elation.
âLook at her,â he weeps, all torn up by the little girl in your arms. He presses his lips to your forehead in a crash of a kiss: wet, soaking wet on your skin.
You beam up at him when he pulls away. âWe did it,â you whisper.
Joel shakes his head. He runs a thumb across the damp print left on your head. âYou did it, honey,â he mutters. âI was nothinâ but a spectator.â
âYou almost missed the game,â you quip, and he laughs again.
Your body throbs; nearly numb with pain, heavy with fatigue and emotion. But as long as sheâs here, this tiny tornado of a girl, you donât feel a thing.
Clenching and then unclenching her fist around your finger â so delicate compared to the punches she was throwing at your ribs just six hours ago. Sheâs worth every fucking second of it.
You finally fucking get it.
She fits so perfectly in the crook of your arm. It feels as though your body was made just to hold her â the very shape of you, designed especially for the very shape of her.
You wonder whether it was the same for your mom. Whether you came along and made her feel whole, for the first time in her life.
Duckieâs eyes open â all glossy and brand new, blinking up at the both of you like she needed no introduction. She already knows you, from the inside out. Her dadâs graying beard, the threads of silver around his temples. Her momâs tear-stained cheeks, eyes red and bleary with sleeplessness and pure love.
Youâre Mom, youâre Dad.
Itâs all sheâs ever known.
The pillow sighs as you lean back into it. The doctor begins repairing the damage done between your legs; threading and knitting your body back together.
Youâre caught between a state of bliss and shock. Your brain is doing much the same work to itself as the woman between your knees is. Patching over all the bloody parts: the screams which tore your skin, the pain which cracked your teeth.
None of it holds a candle to the weight of her in your arms. No matter how tired you are, you canât take your eyes off her. Her puffy cheeks, the little creases between her brows. No matter how sore, you never want to let go of her.
Joel runs a finger down Duckieâs cheek. âAinât she the most beautiful thing in the world?â
âI love her,â you say, bubbling again. âI love her more than anything.â
An hour old, and sheâs already a daddyâs girl.
Joel ambles back and forth at the foot of your bed in the recovery suite, bouncing Duck in his arms. Heâs never looked so relaxed, so natural at something. Heâs never seemed so content, so peaceful.
Everything heâs ever made with his hands â structures and framework and your goddamn closet â and yet this, this tiny accident, this baby girl you were so sure youâd dreamt up right up until an hour ago â
This is the thing heâs proudest of.
Morning lifts through the windows, all soft and vanilla. It floats around him, sunlight spilling across his skin and breathing life and color into him.
Sunlight â or his daughter. Theyâre the same thing, anyway.
You pull apart a slice of toast, watching. Just watching. Sweet strawberry jam on your tongue, the flavor of everything sharper, fresher. The colors brighter, more vivid.
The world makes more sense like this, you think. Painted in shades of honey and ochre; a room in a corner of the world where time slows to a halt. A soft lullaby from his lips, and the little coos from hers.
The ache of love and labor lingers deep inside you, and nothing has ever made more sense.
You suck the sticky sweet from your fingertips.
Joel looks up, toying with Duckieâs hand. âYou want her back?â he asks, a dumb grin on his face.
You shake your head. âI like watching you.â
He scrunches his nose, nuzzling it against his daughterâs, and whispers, âI wasnât gonna give you back, anyways.â He sways in the early light, staring down at her. âJesus,â he mutters, swiping at his eyes again, âI didnâtâŠI didnât know I could love somethinâ this much.â
âMe, either.â
He drifts over, lowering himself slowly onto the edge of the bed. He extends his elbow, still cradling the baby, and helps you pull yourself upright.
You hiss, a not-so-subtle sting between your legs.
âYou, uhâŠyou think of a name yet?â Joel asks.
âNot yet,â you reply, hooked onto his shoulder. Duck blows a bubble and you wipe it with your knuckle. âI thought we were sticking with Duckie?â
His cheeks swell. The sun kisses the edges of his beard. âI thought of one,â he says softly. âMaybe. Itâs your call.â
You yawn into his shirt, the warmth of him calm and soothing. âAlright, Miller. Hit me.â
He looks down at the baby nestled in his safe hands. The smallest thing either of you have ever seen.
The name must roll around his head a few times, the way he tilts to-and-fro â looking at her from one angle, then the next. Deciding, when he pulls back, that she suits it from every direction. Like it was her name long before he or even you knew it.
You watch his lips shape the name before you hear it.
Sarah.
And for what feels like forever, you just stare at him. The syllables lingering in the air like glistening specks of dust in a sunbeam. Your eyes follow them down to your daughter, now sleeping peacefully with two hands around one of her dadâs thumbs.
âSarah,â you repeat, remembering whose name it was, whose name it is â whose name it has always been. âSarah Miller.â
Joelâs shoulders lift. âWhat do you think? She look worthy of beinâ a Sarah?â
The rustle of tissue paper. Blue and green and purple tearing between your fingers. The funny fuzz of pom poms as your hands rummaged through the bag. Her hand swimming towards you, an orange foam fish riding the waves between her fingers. Bubbly sounds erupting from her lips.
Your girlish giggle. Her silly grin. Hopscotch along the sidewalk; stopping to look for cars before sheâd walk you across the street. How much do I love you, baby girl?
More than the whole world, Mama.
âI love it,â you breathe, tears running to the corners of your mouth. âSarah fucking Miller.â
âSarah fuckinâ Miller,â Joel echoes; two wet lines the same as yours, curving down his cheeks. He shifts her into the crook of his arm.
Youâre impossibly close. Your chin rests on his shoulder, foreheads brushing when you lean in to each other. His breath is hot on your lips, closer and closer and closer until â
He tastes like salt, rich with emotion. Salt, and then sweet when your tongue meets his. He lifts his free hand to cup your cheek, and your fingers link around his wrist.
And you know you shouldnât be doing it â know this isnât your man to be kissing. But in this room, where no one else can see â where itâs just you, him, and all the best parts of yourselves shaped into someone better â he feels like yours.
Just for a moment.
Joel takes the first week of Sarahâs life off work.
He spends a good twenty minutes on the phone to the contractor, talking more about the kid than he does the job. Her eyelashes, her fingernails, the way her legs scrunch anytime he lifts her up.
Heâs besotted with the entire thing. And he tells everybody so.
He moves in with you both, stays in your guestroom. Itâs a week of no sleep, no peace, and a total of three showers between you. Wearing the same clothes covered in spit-up and drool until one of you has the time or energy to do laundry.
Itâs hard. Itâs the hardest thing youâve ever done. By your count, youâve already cried three times to Joel â terrified youâre getting it all wrong.
But youâre doing it. Jesus God, youâre doing it.
You order takeout most nights. You canât stand long enough to cook just yet, and you donât trust Joel not to burn your fucking kitchen down â despite his protests. And it feels like, after everything your bodyâs given you, it deserves a greasy pizza and some chicken wings.
You rot on the couch together, watching shitty TV and arguing over reruns of Jeopardy! â until Sarah wakes and the whole thing begins again.
Joel loses the game of rock, paper, scissors tonight.
âShh, baby girl. âs alright now, I gotcha,â he lulls, tucking her back in to her bassinet.
She fusses and stretches out; arms over her head, legs curled up. Her onesie is still a little too big â the socked feet all baggy, the sleeves rolled up her wrists.
He lingers for a moment as she drifts off, a hand stroking her tummy. Watching, always watching her. The rise and fall of her stomach, the puffs of breath from her nostrils, her lips still suckling away in her sleep.
âI swear I have a baby photo that looks just like her,â you say. âSame nose and everything.â
Joel clicks his teeth. âGot her looks from her mom. Lucky thing.â
âLow-hanging fruit,â you snort.
He drifts back over, sinking into the couch at your side. âDoinâ okay?â he asks, and you nod.
Every muscle in your body still feels like a ton weight. Your stomach is still swollen; there are still stitches between your legs. There are moments you canât tell if youâre crying because of hormones, exhaustion, or joy.
Every time, itâs a combination of all three.
Life before feels so long ago â and it hasnât even been a fortnight. But then you held her for the first time, and now â your arm misses the weight of her when sheâs not in it. Your house feels eerily quiet when sheâs not laughing, or whimpering, or screaming the fucking roof down.
You can feel your daughter growing up already, and sheâs only ten days old.
On the mantelpiece, safe in a stippled gold frame, your mom beams down over her. The photo at least twenty years old, the memory even older. Laughing, the way she always was; nothing quite so funny as a joke frozen in time.
Joel prods you with his elbow. âSheâd be proud of you, you know. Your mom.â
âOh,â you scoff, âno, sheâd be like, Holy shit. This kid totally kicked your ass.â
He chuckles. âSure she did,â he shrugs, âsheâs your kid.â
The TV babbles to itself across the room. In its glow, Joel meets your eye. A tiny, pearly fleck swimming in deep honey.
Itâs familiar â each shade of bronze in his eyes, each thread of silver through his hair. Like youâve mapped each and every line on his skin, collecting them like the sleepless hours between you.
Everything about him feels so normal. Burnt toast in the morning, a spoon clinking around a mug of coffee. The rustle of the newspaper, the sizzle of eggs in the pan, the baby snoring on your chest.
Everything â and yet nothing youâve ever known.
âI miss her,â you whisper. âI miss my mom.â
His hand finds yours instantly. âI know, baby. I know you do.â
You slouch down, leaning on his shoulder, and close your eyes. Joel presses his lips to the crown of your head, his thumb looping around your knuckles.
Sarah gurgles in her sleep. She sighs â a satisfied little sound. Nothing has ever made more sense.
His voice rumbles against your skull. âWho sent the lilies?â
Your eyes flutter open. âHm?â
Joel flicks his finger towards the window, towards a sprawl of speckled, cream flowers. âThe lilies? They werenât there this morning.â
âOhâŠâ You turn to look up at him, cringing.
He sees the flicker of her behind your eyes. Her lustrous curtain of hair, her perfect almond nails.
âReally?â Joel asks, mirroring your expression.
You nod, trying not to laugh. âFrom her and Kate. You were upstairs with Sarah when she came by. I offered to call you down, but â she just wanted to drop âem and go.â
âWhat did sheâŠ? Did she say anything?â
Your head shakes. âShe justâŠshe said congratulations, said she hoped we were okay. Then she got in her car and she left. I kinda figured things werenât sunshine and roses, anyway. You havenât fuckinâ seen her since Houston.â
He snorts, fingers massaging his eyes. âI was goinâ to tell you,â he mumbles into his palms, âI justâŠHoney, I donât even know what day of the week it is right now. Iâm sorry.â
âYou donât have to tell me anything,â you mutter.
âYes, I do,â he insists. His eyes flit over to Sarah, then back to you. âWe havenât really talked it through yet, me ân her. I called her a few days ago, we agreed itâs time. It â itâs past time. I shoulda called it months ago.â
âI guess,â you sigh. âAre you okay?â
Joelâs brow furrows. ââcourse I am. I got the most beautiful baby girl in the world,â and then, rolling his eyes, âyouâre here.â
âOh, fuck you,â you clip, batting his arm. âVanessa could do way better, anyways.â
âI donât doubt it.â
You squeeze his fingers, softly adding, âIâm sorry it didnât work out, Joel.â
He stares down at your clasped hands. He looks tired, worn out. You figure itâs not just from the newborn. But he takes a deep breath, something the color of relief dawning on his skin, and looks you dead in the eye.
âIâm not.â
ÂâHey, Duckie â can you say, Happy birthday, Daddy?â
A vinyl wobbles on the turntable â some acoustic record from when Joel was a teenager. Thereâs wrapping paper still crumpled beneath the coffee table; four plates with more crumbs than cake left, dotted around the room.
Tommy leans in, a lopsided party hat on his head, and tickles Sarahâs chin.
She blinks at him, unamused, then scrunches her little nose and turns back into your chest.
He sighs, straightening. âShe donât like her uncle Tommy all that much,â he grumbles, sulking back over to the couch. Maria puts a consoling arm around his shoulder.
You rest your lips on Sarahâs head, breathing in her sweet scent. Swaying back and forth, you tease, âShe donât like anyone all that much, not unless theyâre her daddy.â
Joelâs head lifts and he smiles, eyes glistening. He watches you and Sarah dance; laughs when you twirl her around and she tips her head back, flashing a gummy grin.
âSheâll come around to ya,â he tells Tommy, wandering over to your side. âWe all learned to, eventually.â
Tommy scoffs. âVery funny, old man. Jesus.â
Joel stoops down to let Sarah run her small hands through his beard. He catches her fingertips between his lips and pretends to nibble on them.
She giggles, squirming in your arms. Her fingers find the sweeps of hair on his forehead and, taking a fistful, she tugs.
âChrist,â Joel hisses, pulling back.
âThat was on you this time,â you chuckle, pointing a finger. âYou know she does that, and you still fall for it.â
Maria glances down at her watch. âIs that the time?â she asks, turning to Tommy. âWe should really turn in.â
âOh â right, right.â Tommy tips the last of his beer into his mouth. âWeâre takinâ Mom to brunch tomorrow. Better get some goddamn rest.â
Joel hums, still massaging his hairline. âHey,â he whispers, elbowing you. âMaybe I should take her over. Sheâs getting sleepy â ainât you, little Duck?â
âOh, yeah.â
Tommy stands and holds a hand out. âWhy donât you let Maria and I take her? Weâll tuck her in, keep an eye on her. We werenât half bad the other day, while yâall were at work. And if sheâs stayinâ at Joelâs tonight anywayâŠâ
You glance to Joel, who shrugs. Something shaped like Sure.
âAs long as you donât mind,â you reply, bouncing the baby slowly. âLet me go grab her things.â
Joelâs hand slips across the small of your back as you pass, making for the stairs. He lingers at the bottom, watching until you turn into the nursery with Sarah in the crook of your arm.
You set her down in her crib and gather some of her favorites: a yellow blanket, a duck comforter, a rattle shaped like an elephant. She watches contentedly as you shuffle back and forth, staring when you lean over the wooden rail.
âYou know how much I love you?â you whisper, curling a finger inside her fist. She squeezes, and you say, âMore than the whole world.â
She grabs at the chain dangling from your neck, the letter S catching the light. Instead, she lifts your finger to her mouth. Her nails scratch light as a feather across your skin. Her gums are tiny and soft around your knuckle.
Everything about her is tiny and soft. Her sweeping eyelashes, her plushy cheeks. Her round tummy, and the squeals she lets free as you dot kisses and blow raspberries all over it. No matter how much sheâs grown in three months, sheâs still so tiny.
Sheâll always be the smallest, sweetest thing youâve ever known. And sheâs all yours.
âJesus, kid,â you sniff, swiping at your tears. You slip your hands around her back and prop her on your hip. âAlright, letâs go. Quit making your mom cry.â
The bag over your shoulder, you carry her out of the room and into the dark hallway. Itâs quiet downstairs; nothing but the crackle of the record player, the distant chink of dishes in the kitchen.
That â and hushed voices in the living room.
âJoel,â Tommy says, over and over again. Heâs trying to cut in between his brotherâs rambling. Joel â listen to me. Just listen, for one second ââ
You linger on the bottom step, trying to split Joelâs voice from Tommyâs. Trying to pluck the words out, over Mariaâs humming from the next room.
ââŠand it ainât that simple, Tommy itâs ââ
âWhat ainât simple about it? You have a ââ Tommy says it through his teeth, ââ you have a kid together, Joel. You really think sheâs gonna ââ
Sarah grabs the charm around your neck and shakes suddenly, rattling the chain.
You close your hand around hers, losing your balance. âShhhhit, Duckie, you ââ
Joelâs eyes snap to your figure as you step down. He clears his throat, leaning away from Tommy. âHey â hey, darlinâ.â
âHey,â you reply. Bright. Chipper. Unclenching your fist to let your daughter shake your necklace some more.
She squeals with delight when she spots Joel across the room.
âShe ready to go?â he asks, slinging a quick â telling â look at Tommy.
You look between the brothers, browns quirking. They look as guilty as each other: scratching their beards, staring at the furniture instead of you. âUhuh,â you reply, tongue against your teeth. âEverythingâŠeverything okay?â
Tommy slaps his thighs as he stands. âEverythingâs great, sweetheart. Sure as shit. Joel â you, uhâŠyou got a key on ya?â
âOh, yep.â Joel reaches into his pocket. He unhooks a silver key from the chain and drops it into his brotherâs open palm.
Tommy calls for Maria. He sidesteps around you, face flushed and smiling.
She floats through from the kitchen, drying her palms on her jeans. âWhereâs my baby duck?â she sings, reaching for Sarah.
You pass her over and she melts into her auntâs arms, curling up into a little pink lump on her chest. âShe just had a feed, like, twenty minutes ago, so â she should go down pretty well. And there are more bottles in Joelâs fridge, if you need âem.â
Maria nods, wrapping Sarahâs blanket around her. She lifts the bag strap from your shoulder and hands it to Tommy. âIâll text you as soon as sheâs down. Come on, Duckie, letâs get you to bed.â
Tommy leans over and squeezes your arm, winking as he follows his wife. He calls goodnight to Joel, lifting a pointed finger over his head, and closes the door behind them.
Things could not have gone smoother.
Itâs suspicious as shit.
You turn when you hear Joel shifting.
âCâmon,â he utters, a pile of plates in one hand. âI ainât leavinâ you with this mess.â He heads through to the kitchen, broad figure swaying.
The plates spill into the sink, water trickling over them. Joel hums to himself as he gets to work with a sponge in hand.
You linger in the living room.
Things have been good lately â peaceful. Youâre in as much of a routine as Sarah will allow: a steady pattern of dropping her off and picking her back up, patchwork family dinners, daytrips whenever both of you can make them.
Your body is healing, pulling itself back together. You donât have to think about being Mom anymore â she walks in stride with you. The world is painted a new shade of normal â one where you can do anything with a baby on your hip, one where love becomes your first language.
One where you swallow back the ache in your heart, for better or for worse. The only piece of you still fractured. The only wound left open.
Joelâs birthday cards lie flat on the coffee table. You pluck them up one by one â his parentsâ, Tommy and Mariaâs, yours â and Sarahâs.
A messy splotch of a handprint, bright yellow paint smeared across half the fucking card (she hasnât quite mastered self-control yet). A googly eye plastered to the birdâs chest; orange crayon for the beak and legs.
Sure, you took charge for most of the project â but when he opened it and saw his daughterâs little masterpiece, you caught him swiping his knuckle at the corner of his eye. He snuggled into her, perched on his lap, and whispered, Thank you, little Duckie.
You prop them along your mantelpiece, dotted around your momâs photo. When you step back, looking from son to brother toâŠa good friend, you could almost pretend.
Almost pretend that they belong here, on this mantelpiece. There is no yours and his. Just one of everything; nothing doubled nor halved.
Almost pretend that he wonât collect them as he leaves, break into another teary laugh at the sight of the duck painting, and then kiss your cheek goodnight. Promise to have your daughter back in time to go swimming tomorrow morning.
Almost.
âHey,â Joel calls, âdid you, uh â did you hear Tommy talkinâ about Jackson?â
You slip into the kitchen, side by side with him at the sink. âUh, yeah,â you reply, lifting a towel. âMoose, pine trees. Yep.â
âIt sounds beautiful. You think we should take a trip up there sometime? Could be Sarahâs first vacation.â
âYou mean the three of us?â
He shrugs, scrubbing a bowl in the water. âSure. I donât think Duckie would let one of us stay behind, do you? Sheâd scream the damn airport down,â he chuckles, looking back to the twinkling bubbles.
You hum. âMaybe.â
âYou donât feel like it?â
âNo, I do. I just â I donât know. Maybe someday.â
âOkay,â Joel says, nodding. âPut a pin in it.â
He passes you a dripping plate and you drag the towel over it, circling the pattern until the suds are wiped clean. And another, and another.
It feels awkward. It feels stiff. Thereâs something hanging between you, heavy on both your shoulders. A weight you havenât felt around Joel in over a year.
You turn to him as he stacks the last plate on the draining board. âIs that what you were talking to Tommy about?â
Joel pauses. âYou heard that, huh?â
âOnly the part about having a kid. Itâs none of my business, I know, I just ââ
âActually,â he clears his throat, âitâs plenty your business.â
He leans back against the counter and crosses his arms. A deep breath, cheeks puffing as he exhales. His grip on the dish towel whitens his knuckles.
HeâsâŠnervous. The same shade of gray he wore the night you went into labor.
He takes another unsteady breath.
âJoel?â you ask, head tilting. âWhatever it is, you can say it. I got whiskey, if thatâll make it easier. Probably tastes like shit, butâŠâ
His expression cracks. His eyes twinkle, and he smiles. Only a little, but enough. Enough to let the words slip through.
âYou know, that night at Tommyâs wedding was one of the best nights of my life.â
Your heartbeat thuds a bassline in your ears; the rush of your blood the squealing guitar. Skin tacky, moans caught between teeth. Laughter and lust tangling together in the air.
âYeah?â you ask.
Joel nods. âYeah. Lying there â talking, laughing, messinâ around. I donât think Iâve ever laughed that hard in all my life. I couldâve stayed in that room with you forever.â
Your eyes start to sting. You look away.
âI thought I would regret it. I thought I should regret it. And I never did. But then,â he takes a deep breath, âthe next day, I look out front, and my newspaperâs sittinâ on my lawn. And for two weeks straight, I kept checking â and there it was. I thought, Sure as shit, she regrets the whole thing. I thought you never wanted to see me again.â
You shake your head. âI wanted to see you again. I missed â I missed you. Missed pissinâ you off.â
He laughs. âI missed you pissinâ me off. Missed that annoying as hell thud on my porch.â
âI didnât know if you wanted me to â you know,â you admit, and Joel nods.
âWe got pretty good at avoidinâ each other,â he grumbles. âAnd then â with Vanessa, I thought Iâd be doinâ you a favor. Letting you off light.â
âYouâŠyou took her number to do me a favor?â
âNaw,â Joel says. âI took her number âcause her brother in-law has a lumber company, and I had a closet to build. I was drunk, I was an idiot, and I brought it up to her at the wedding. By the time I thought it through, you ân I werenât speakinâ.â
You stare at him, jaw slack. âAre you fucking kidding me?â
He shakes his head. He edges closer to you. Voice low, he says, âI shouldnâtâve gone out on that first date with her. I shouldnâtâve done any of it. I shouldâve talked to you about what I was feeling.â
âWell, maybe we both shouldâve,â you mutter, wringing your hands. âI wasnât exactly the best at it, either.â
His head tips, considering. âCan I tell you now?â
You glance over to him. âTell me what, Miller?â
âTell youâŠtell you that I love you,â he whispers.
It steals the breath from your lungs. One clean swipe.
He nods to himself, then â certain of it â and says it again. âI do, darlinâ. I love you.â
Your heart begins to hammer. Tears spill over onto your cheeks, dripping from your jaw.
âAnd, look ââ Joel takes your wrists, ââ I got no right to say any of that, I know. I put you through a hell of a lot, these last few months â and that kills me. But if youâll let me, I swear to you â Iâll make it up to you. Iâll take care of you for the rest of my life.â
You look up. His cheeks are dappled, too â glistening with tears. âJoelâŠâ you weep.
He cups your jaw. âListen to me. What weâve had, the last three months â I want it all the time. I want you, and I want Duck. I want the three of us under one roof. I want to sleep in the same bed as you.â
You breathe a shuddered laugh. Your hands fall over his wrists. Keep talking, you mouth, bottom lip trembling.
âI want to get married, or not,â Joel says. âI want to show up to Tommy and Mariaâs anniversary party late, âcause Duck couldnât pick which shoes she wanted to wear. I want to have more kids, take âem on vacation.â
âWyoming?â you sniff.
âWyoming,â he repeats. âI wantâŠI want all of it, baby. You ân me. I want you ân me, more than anything in the world. And if Iâm too late, then you can tell me. Tell me, and I swear on my life I will never mention it again.â
Your hands curve over his. His strong knuckles, worked and weathered and worn by his years. Down to his wrists â the tatty strap on his ages-old watch, the dark hair peppered along his arms.
âI love you so much, baby. So much that it drives me insane. You drive meâŠfuckinâ insane.â
âOh, fuck you,â you whisper, balling your fists against his chest.
Joel laughs, nose brushing against yours. âYeah,â he sniffs, âI figured youâd say somâ like that.â
âI love you, too,â you mumble, linking your arms around his neck. âShit, I love you.â
âAinât that a thing?â he says, and his lips are on yours.
Itâs been a year. A year since the first time you felt him â lips soft as velvet, sweet with alcohol and something stronger. His tongue and yours, his teeth and yours. Every part of you clashing with every part of him.
And goddamn, youâve missed it.
Joel follows you upstairs, pinning you to the wall by your bedroom door. White heat flooding through your veins, he kneels before you and pulls you onto his tongue.
Heâs hungry.
He laps at you as though youâll be gone in the morning. As though he wonât wake up tangled in you, breathing in your scent, lips on your skin.
Dusk seeps in at the edges of your vision; daylight draining from the sky. Itâs dark, too dark to see him clearly, but you feel him fucking everywhere.
His beard grazes the inside of your thigh. He kisses where he scratches your skin. He holds your hips steady, tongue dipping in and out.
âYou know how fuckinâ sweet you taste?â he growls, slipping inside again.
He looks so good between your legs. Like he was made for it â made for you. All yours, in ways you never really understood until now.
He brings you to the edge with his tongue flat against your clit. Holding your hips firm against his mouth, groaning with you as you fall.
You come with a broken moan. Hips stutter to a halt, legs fall wide open. The warmth in your belly spills over and rushes to every corner of your body.
Joel moans, tongue still lapping as your cunt pulses all over him. âGood fuckinâ girl,â he slurs, watching you come undone.
He stands, a chaste kiss to your lips, and then parts them with his tongue. âTaste good?â he mumbles, kissing you gently.
Yeah, you think, moaning against him, it tastes fucking good.
He spreads you out on your mattress and kisses what feels like every square inch of your body. You giggle at the feeling of his lips behind your ear; moan when they close around your nipple.
Your back arches; little lightning bolts as he pulls the buds to a peak. Your fingers knot through his hair; hissing at the meeting of pain and pleasure between Joelâs lips.
âI love you,â you whisper, when he settles between your legs. You donât know that youâve felt something so true in all your life.
He smiles. Your fingers trace the lines at his eyes.
âCome here,â he says, and pulls your hips to meet his.
You curve a hand around his neck, glancing down at your open legs. âLooks a little different to the last time you saw her.â
Joel shakes his head, licking his lips. âBeautiful, baby. She looks so goddamn beautiful.â
Each movement is careful, deliberate. He notches his tip at your hole and pauses until youâre looking at him again.
And then he pushes in.
He slips an arm under your head; the other holding your thigh on his waist. He kisses you as you stretch around him. He still tastes like salt and slick.
You gasp, teeth gritting around a hiss. âFuck,â you whimper, turning in to his chest.
âEasy, easy,â Joel coos, voice rumbling against your temple. âCatch your breath. Doinâ so good.â
âItâs not sore,â you tell him, nodding for him to move again. âItâsâŠitâs justâŠdifferent.â
âTighter,â he groans, eyes on your cunt as it draws his cock in.
You agree, âTighter.â
He catches you in another kiss, his tongue slipping between your lips. âFeel so good, sweet girl. Breathe. âm right here.â
Itâs never felt like this before. This gentle, this tender.
You have never felt like this before. Broken open, stitched back together. Your heart split into two â whole again each time his body meets yours.
Joel catches your moans on his tongue. He steadies his pace; rocking into you over and over. Laughing against your lips; your fingers intertwined with his.
âFeel good?â he pants.
Your head rolls back. âMhm.â
âTake it, baby. Such a tight little thing.â
âJoel,â you cry, âIâm close.â
His teeth nip at your neck. âShit,â his hips jump, âattagirl. Just like that.â He thrusts into you harder, bleeding the color from your vision.
You pull his lips to yours, foreheads tacky. Joelâs eyes gloss over.
I love you, he breathes.
And the world whitens.
He pulls you against his chest when you come back around. Shifts up the headboard, skin all sticky and warm. He kisses your temples, kisses your shoulders, kisses your knuckles.
You melt into his grasp, turning to look up at him. You run your fingers over his lips, through his damp hair. Just staring. Drinking him all in.
âYou were right next door, the entire time,â you whisper.
He runs a thumb across your cheek. âYep.â
âDo you think we wasted too much time?â
Joelâs lip turns. âNah,â he says. âWe found our way.â
âNeeded a little help, though.â
He scoffs, tongue between his teeth. âIâm sure sheâll hold it against us forever.â
You think of that evening in August. The last bow of the sun before your world changed forever. Of deals struck and promises made. Of satin on your fingertips â newspaper ink and duck egg silk.
You think of that photograph on your mantelpiece. Bright eyes watching every second of it. A smile on her face the entire time.
You laugh to yourself. Joel looks down and kisses your swollen cheek.
âWe should go,â he taps your thigh, âgot a little duck whoâll be wonderinâ where her mama and daddy are.â
The church tower rings out twice as the truck purrs between graves.
Joel pulls up under the shade of a sycamore, tires rolling to a halt. Sarah kicks her feet, her heels thudding against her car seat.
âMama,â she presses a sticky finger to the back window, âflowers.â
âYeah, baby,â you call over your shoulder, hugging your own graveside gift a little tighter in your arms. âLots of âem, huh?â
âYeah,â your daughter quietly considers, then kicks her seat again.
Joel waits patiently for you to give him the go ahead. He slips a hand around your knee, looking ahead at the rows of headstones. So patient, so gentle.
Your chest swells, a deep breath filling your lungs, and you nod. âAlright.â
âSure?â he asks. âTake as long as you want, darlinâ.â
But if you wait any longer, youâll never leave. The paper wrap crinkles in your arms. âYou take Duck,â you reply, âIâll takeâŠâ
Joel lifts your hand, placing a soft kiss between your knuckles. âYou got it. Weâll walk on.â
He leaves you in the truck to collect yourself. He unbuckles Sarah and sets her loose, following her across the grass with his hands in his pockets.
Her light-up sneakers flash as she sprints; head tossed back, toothless smile pointed to the sun. She turns back to her dad, her little hand fitting perfectly into his.
Made for each other.
You hook your fingers around the handle and leave the truck.
Their grave is a short walk down a grassy slope, sheltered by another towering tree. Its leaves flutter down around you as you near the stone; stray petals which catch in the breeze and lead the way.
You kneel down, the grass dry and prickly through your jeans. âHi, Mom,â you whisper, sweeping some dust from the base of the grave. âHi, Dad.â
Your grandma picked this spot. Sheâs long gone â laid to rest elsewhere with a grandfather you never met â so you try to visit as often as you can. Freshen the flowers, brighten up the stone.
It fucking sucks, but someoneâs gotta do it.
You peel the brown paper from the bouquet, exposing the soft colors Sarah picked back in the florist. They fit perfectly on the stone, right beneath the words Devoted parents.
Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, a feeling that wraps itself around your throat and steals any other words â until a flash of pink catches your attention.
âDuckie,â Joel calls, following her between graves. âHey. This is a cemâŠHey, Duck, listen â this is a cemetery, we gotta be â Sarah!â
You stifle a laugh, watching him jog after the hoodie tied around her waist. He swipes for her hand and she dodges him, ducking between graves faster than his mid-fifties joints can turn him.
Thereâs no one else here â itâs only you. And itâs a quiet enough place as it is, so â you let her laugh. Let him chase her, and let her sneakers light the place in pink. What else is there to do?
âSorry itâs been a little while,â you tell your parents, eyes still on your man.
Heâs kneeling now, Sarah on his thigh, in front of a tall, cross-shaped stone. Theyâre pointing at the words on the stone, her inquisitive eyes studying each one.
âI know I said Iâd come visit for Dadâs birthday, but I guess things got busy â what with the move and all. Weâre still living out of boxes. But the girlsâ rooms are almost done â we just gotta paint âem.â
You look back down to the stone. Your momâs name carved deep into spotted marble, your dadâs underneath. One awful date to tie them both together.
Dad probably heard Duckâs first squeal and turned away; gone back to whatever boring activity he might get up to in the afterlife. But your mom, you know for certain, is sat with her chin on the heel of her palm. Watching her mini-me trace the shapes of words, squirming when Joel presses his lips to her temple and whispers hints to her.
Sheâs probably smiling, making some comment about how big Sarahâs getting. How smart she is, how funny. How she must keep you and Joel on your toes â and goddamn, sheâs right.
âJoelâs been working on the kitchen,â you continue. âI left my phone in the truck, but you should see it, Mom. He got these marble countertops, these little brushed-gold handles. He wrote our names on the wall before he tiled it, so whoever remodels after weâre gone will find that. The four of us.â
âM-meh-mem-orr-mem-or-ree?â Sarah tilts her head.
Joel nods. âMemory, yeah. Good job, Duck.â
âDuckieâs good,â you tell your mom. âSheâs top of her class in â well, everything. Really wiping the floor with all the other first-graders. Sheâd have been your favorite â I know that much. And youâd have been hers.
âSheâs gonna be some kind of lawyer, we think. Social justice and all that. She likes to be a woman of the people. Always talkinâ back to Joel â she hardly cuts him any slack, these days,â you laugh.
âHeâs good, too â Joel. Working hard, as usual. Tommy and Maria visited last week â they brought Buckley, and now Duck wonât stop goinâ on about us getting a dog.â
You chance a glance over the stone, making sure the pair are out of earshot when you add, âDonât tell her, but we called the pound last night. Weâre heading there tomorrow while sheâs at school to pick one out for her birthday. Joelâs giddier than I think Sarahâs gonna be.â
Joelâs carrying Duck now, wandering down a wobbly row of graves.
She halts him by pointing to one. âN-eh-v-eh-neverâŠfff-or-g-forââ
He stares at her, a grin breaking across his lips. âSound it out, thatâs it. âs a big word, baby girl. You got it.â
The world seems to blur around them. The birds sing, a light melody from overhead. The green trees sway across the blue of the sky; the straight soar of cars on the highway. It all fades into the background, behind the two of them â wandering from shade into brilliant sun.
Your family. Your man, your blood â and everything in between. The little girl who brought it all together in the end â leading her dad by hand over knolls and broken stone, chasing butterflies, and asking what eh-teh-err-nal means.
âMeans forever,â Joel says, kneeling beside her. ââs how long Iâm gonna love you for.â
âAnd Nel?â
âAnd Nel.â
âAnd Mama?â
âAnd Mama.â
Sarah runs her hands through his beard, swaying side to side. âBut me the most,â she concludes, nodding.
Joel hms, biting back a laugh. He lifts his chin, asks the little girl whether or not heâs going gray.
She has the same ridiculous laugh you do. The same snort you used to find so embarrassing, until you heard it come from her.
Just watching them stokes the already burning fire in your ribcage â the warmth flooding around your heart. Heâs so good at it â being a dad.
Was he ever anything else, before he was a father? You canât remember a time you didnât wake up next to him, wrapped up in his arms, or with one of his kids burrowed between your bodies. It all feels so long ago, now.
He wanted to do everything. Heâd lie with you between his legs, holding your half-sleeping form upright while you fed her. Heâd race home after work specially to bathe her. He picked up any and every single duck-themed thing that he came across.
And what were you? Mom felt like such a fucking longshot. So out of your reach that you couldnât understand the meaning of the word.
But there are days when she says it â Sarah, looking up at you with Joelâs twinkling eyes and a smirk which matches yours â and itâs like youâve been waiting your whole life to hear it. Like youâve been waiting your whole life for her.
Well. Her, and her little sister.
âAnd, uh â another thing,â you say, reaching for the plastic handle of a car seat. âI brought somebody for you to meet.â
A clumsy fist shoots up to shake a speckled dinosaur toy â the brown spheres of its eyes catching the sunlight. She squeals with delight when you unbuckle her, kicks her legs the same way her sister always did.
âSheâs a little nervous, ainât you, Nel?â you whisper, laughing at her gummy smile and tiny, socked feet. âShe spit up on herself on the way here, but â I think youâre gonna love her.â
You perch the baby on your thigh, same as Joel did with Sarah, and she wraps her fingers around one of yours. You wiggle it â waving to your momâs name, to the petals gently fluttering in the breeze.
âMom,â you sniff, âthis is Ellie.â
#joel miller#joel miller fic#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#the last of us#tlou#macfrog#neighbor!joel miller#babydaddy!joel miller#tw pregnancy
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teach me?
virgin!stiles x afab!best friend!reader
warning, this contains: oral (receiving), swearing.
summary: after stiles' request to get you to teach him how to give head, you agree. with not much reluctance, either - only surprising him more.
stiles was - and still is - in shock. he expected there to be much more tries to get you to accept (not that he'd ever force you, of course), but there wasn't. surprisingly, there was no hesitation to your answer.
"sure," you said, tossing your phone aside on the bed. so what if he was your best friend? it might've been a bit weird, but it was just a little favor.. that was it. just a favor. nothing else. totally didn't accept because you liked him. nope.
"'sure'?? he repeated, baffled. "just like that?"
"yes."
"are you sure?" he checked.
"yes."
a beat. "still?"
"yes."
"are you positive? you didn't mishear me?" he took your eyeroll as a cue to repeat what he had asked a few minutes ago: "can you teach me-"
"keep asking stupid questions, and i'll take it back," you threatened, cutting him off before he could finish. stiles immediately shook his head no, so fast he could've sworn he heard his neck crack once or twice. "good. come here." he was quick to obey, crawling on top of you. without wasting a second, he began fumbling with your shorts, his attempts of taking them off of you.
as much as you enjoyed watching, you were as impatient as he was, and decided to help him out. you nudged his hands away and undid them yourself, shimmying out of them. eagerly, he hooked his thumbs under your panties, looking up at you for permission. at your nod, he slid them down your legs. while he was at it, he took the chance to squeeze and caress your thighs. might as well.
his tongue darted out to wet his lips as he took in the sight before him. beautiful. that was when he realized he had no clue what to do - even with all the porn he'd watched, mostly for teaching purposes, his mind had blanked out on him the second he found himself between your legs. "now what?"
"give me your-" as if he had been reading your mind, he extended his hand. "-hand."
taking it into your own, you ran his fingers through your folds. "that- that's the clit," you explained, "it's really important, so pay close attention to it. that's where most of our pleasure comes from."
he nodded, circling it experimentally as he listened to your breaths getting heavier. the question, "yeah?", albeit sounding rhetoric, was his way of encouraging you to go on. all that came out of your mouth was a low whimper as he continued, soft and slow.
"can i use my tongue now?" he asked.
"you can," you approved. while your voice came out unexpectedly cool and unbothered, you were very much all hot and bothered, as ironic as that was.
he grabbed your legs and threw them over his shoulders before burying his head between your thighs, licking a teasingly slow stripe up your slit. he wanted to lift his head up, ask for reassurance that he was doing good, but the whine that the action prompted from you was a good enough answer for him. besides, if he did that, he was sure that he'd get a scolding for pulling away just barely a second after making you moan - he, probably, also wouldn't have liked that. that just seemed cruel to do.
so, he continued, lapping at your cunt like you were a four course meal and he was a starved man. even with your hands tangled in his hair, tugging at the strands, he wouldn't stop - he couldn't, not until he made you finish.
"that's it," you mumbled, "right there.. god, fuck, m'gonna cum-" you threw your head back against the pillow on your bed once stiles began to thrust his tongue in and out of you, all while watching your eyes roll to the back of your skull. not very platonic - hell, none of this was and never would, nor could, be considered as being platonic.
as if he wasn't being desperate enough by asking his best friend to teach him how to give head, he tugged you closer to him so he could keep going. with a nearly pornographic-sounding moan that he felt guilty about reacting to with a not-so-subtle grind of his hips into the mattress, you came. he licked his lips before pushing himself up.
"good?"
"good," you confirmed.
#stiles#stiles stilinski#stiles x reader#stiles stilinski x reader#stiles stilinski x you#stiles stilinski teen wolf#stiles smut#stiles stilinski smut#teen wolf#teen wolf smut#smut#not proofread
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ANGELS IN TIBET â ìĄëŻŒêž°
synopsis . in which mingi clearly canât keep it inside his pants. not even at the cinema.
pairing . song mingi & fem! reader
genre . smut (mdni!), established relationship, non idol!au.
taglist . @bro-atz @purplenimsicle @vampzity @iykyunho @yyaurii | apply to join my taglist âĄ
word count . 1,7k
DISCLAIMER! dom! mingi , sub! reader , exhibitionism , cockwarming in a public space , clit play , reverse cowgirl position , mocking , dirty talk , praise , pet names (dove, good girl, babe & more) , wet kisses ooh , mingi is desperate for ynâs touch and attention.
NICâS NOTES this was a request that iâve had pending since april i think? and iâm so sorry for not working on it until now (like fr iâm beyond embarrassed, anon pls forgive me) but sheâs finally here! as well as me hehe, iâm trying to get back on track with writing, itâll take some time tho. for now, enjoy this, loves <3
mingiâs behavior could be defined as needy.
he swung his arm swiftly across your shoulders, keeping you safe and close next to him â close enough to smell his faint natural, manly and rich scent. he kept throwing his head on the crook on your neck and then lifting it, then letting it fall down your shoulderâs blade. why was he so impatient?
you tried to remain calm and pay attention to the damn movie playing in front of your eyes until mingiâs nth sigh struck your peaceful state of mind. âmingi, whatâs wrong?â
your soft, low question made him tilt his head up, once again. ânothing.â his short reply caused your eyes to narrow almost shut â which he probably didnât get to observe since the darkness of the theatre blurred some of each otherâs features. an even quieter âthen quit squirmingâ came from your lips and mingi jutted his bottom lip. âbut iâm cooold.â he whined in response.
thankfully he didnât see your eyeroll because he prolly wouldâve scattered in tears on the spot. âhow can you be cold when you have a big ass jacket on?â you paused, turning your body to analyze his perfectly covered figure. âand a sweater underneath it?â you deadpanned.
âdo i look like i know?â he huffed, placing his head back into the juncture of your neck â might as well be a single organ now. âi just feel cold and iâm looking for my beloved girlfriendâs comfortable warmth. is that too much to ask?â
âbut how do you want me toââ your complaint was cut out by the loud, clearly annoyed shush of the old lady sitting below the two of you. she angled her body so her bothered gaze met yours, her wrinkles were palpable thanks to the dim, yet shiny lighting provided by the projector. you mouthed an apology and gave her your most sweet, sheepish smile. her soft huff reached your ears and embarrassment spread all over your cheekbones.
âsee? now the old lady is pissed at us because of you.â mingi dared to open his mouth and your head gyrated slowly, almost in a comedic motion, and he nearly let out his squeaky laugh at the sight of your unbelievable facet, jaw hang open comically.
âhow dare you.â you quipped; eyelids almost closing your eyes as if you were ready to object, yet you remained quiet. you repositioned your figure towards the projected screen, causing mingi to abandon the occupied place. vague and nearly lifeless brain cells tried to recollect and understand what had happened during the time you drifted away from the movie.
mingiâs soft, low chuckle summoned the chilliest of goosebumps creeping down your spine, a slight arch going unseen. âdonât be like that, babe.â he reached for the side of your shoulder to squeeze it and to resume your last position; nose nestling on the lateral part of your neck again. he let a trail of wet, romantic kisses all along the valley of your neck, your ticklish skin made your body squirm and giggle quietly.Â
âmingiâstop.â you muttered between little and nearly inaudible squeaks, a childish and wholesome smile drawn across your lips. something that mingi could see up close.
heâs just so in love with you. so madly in love.
mingi stopped for a moment, letting your hyperventilated self calm down; sweet strokes, provided by fingers full of affection, were present on the side of your shoulder.Â
âhey babe?â he hushed in a certain tone. a chilly, gravelly voice scraping through you.
âhm?â
âi think i know a way you can warm me up.â
his mouth paced throughout the length of your neck to land a kiss on its soft flesh before flying to the shell of your ear; an enchanting shudder of anticipation exciting you already. âcare to share with the class?â
your words, enveloped in a velvety hue of seduction, caused the little hairs placed on his nape to stand on end. he hummed in satisfaction before responding. âyou fancy trying something new, dove?â
one moment, you were cuddling with your boyfriend in the cinemaâs seats, watching the movie you had paid for. the next, you were cockwarming his girthy length â donât worry! the folds of your loose, white skirt hid it perfectly. how sinful it was for a pearl-like fabric to cover such a lewd scene.
your walls clenched and relaxed against the sides of his cock every now and then from the excitement and adrenaline. plus, mingi moved incessantly, excusing himself by implying âhe had a crampâ or he was âgetting comfyâ. if only the old lady could see that you and mingi could ruin a movie screening in more ways than just talking.
mingiâs low grunts tensed your limbs, your mind floating around already. his cock tip kissed your cervix deliciously; white spots filling your dark irises. âfuck, babe. so tight and wet fâme.â his grip on your trembling hip growing stronger as you greedily sucked him whole. âdidnât think youâd be up for this. yâ know, since youâre so shyâ he mocked pathetically, whining like you would now if it werenât for the place where this was taking action.
his big hands abandoned your shuddering hips, swiftly moving under your plush thighs; slim fingers curling up your flesh. you knew he wanted you to move, his uneven breathing and a slight tug on your skin gave him away so easily. but fuck, you couldnât bring yourself to quench his desire â you already felt too exposed by just cockwarming him. your breath hitched as you clamped onto him involuntarily, your squishy insides making mingi melt in satisfaction. the lowest of grunts fanned against your earlobe.Â
you couldnât help the tiny mewl that slipped off your tongue. fuck, everything was starting to be too much.
and mingiâs fingers crawling their way to your swollen clit didnât make it any better.
your shameless, pathetic moan startled the elderly woman seated a few rows down. again, she gyrated her core to stare in your direction, unamused of the interruption, but before she could meet your eyes, you hid your flushed face in the crook of mingiâs defined neck; teeth digging into the plump flesh of your lips to mute your whimpers and tiny cries from the old womanâs seemly acute hearing.Â
mingiâs index and middle fingers didnât stop working on your sensitive bud, but they did slow down their pace, setting now a very tortuous tempo; exasperated exhales fanned against his neck. mingiâs dark, lust-filled irises met the aged womanâs eyes, which were pouring annoyance.
his unbusy hand pointed at the screen, showing fake interest. âthis movieâs real good.â he expressed, approvingly. at this rate, an oscar should be given to mingi because of his ability to remain with a calm demeanor given the circumstances. donât get him wrong though, it took everything from him not to tell the lady to fuck off and let you and him be.Â
 the elderly lady squinted her small eyes with disapproval â not that mingi gave a damn â and finally turned to face the projected screen once again. a quiet, soft exhale was released through mingiâs nostrils, his attention now fully focused back on you.
his deep, masculine tone rumbled through his core, and shivers were sent directly down your spine. âcâmon, angel. pay attention, i didnât spend money on these tickets for nothingâ he hummed, the intention of teasing was painted in his tone as clear as water. âor is it that youâre gonna cum?â
âmingângh! iâiâm sâ close. so fuckinâ closeâ you exhaled. âfaster, fuckâplease, fasterâ you settled your head, so it rested on his shoulder. he didnât miss the chance to shower your exposed neck with wet, lascivious kisses while whispering the dirtiest things right on your ear.
âwell arenât you a greedy little thing?â mingi cooed at you mockingly one more time and with your bothered and high pitched, yet quiet whimper, he chuckled. ââs okay, babe, gonna give you just what you deserve for being such a good girl.â
your gummy walls clenched around his hardened shaft multiple times as his fingers played with your plush clit like a guitar in a relentless pace.Â
âlet me see you fall apart.â he muttered with the huskiest voice known to men, and with his cock filling you to the brim and his skillful phalanges driving you straight to the abyss perfectly, you reached a satisfying peak, crying out mingiâs name. he didnât stop his sloppy movements though, completely committed to drawing out the sensation for as long as possible and when you finally felt completely sated, you let your trembling core collapse against mingiâs strong chest.Â
his hands didnât hesitate to wrap around your body, a trail of the sweetest praises showering you entirely. a giddy smile was drawn on your lips â your red, swollen and probably broken lip.
when the movie ended, you and your boyfriend made your way to the exit door, coincidentally meeting the hunchbacked old woman face to face. of course, you earned yet another displeased glance.
as you walked toward your apartment, mingi couldnât help but remember the event that had happened not long ago and decided to express exasperatedly âoh my god, i was âboutta throw hands with that nosy ass woman.â
you snorted at his comment. âmingi, sheâs a poor old lady that just wanted to enjoy the movie in peace and not having to deal with a horny couple of teenagers.â
âbabe, we ainât teenagers. weâre wayyy past our twenties.â he stated the obvious.
you rolled your eyes playfully. âyeah, well, you sure donât act like it sometimes. who picks a fight with an old lady during a rom-com?â
mingi chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. âshe started it! i was just trying to give you a littleââ
ââa little what?â you interrupted, raising an eyebrow. âa little public embarrassment? because mission accomplished.â
he smirked, leaning closer. âcanât deny you didnât like it.â
you huffed, trying to suppress a smile. âyou and your little horny and helpless self⊠always getting us into trouble.â
mingi shrugged, unbothered. âi donât regret a thing.â
âjust... try not to traumatize any more old ladies, okay?â you teased, lightly tapping his arm.
âdeal,â he said with a grin, wrapping his arm around you. âbut no promises if they keep interrupting my movie time with you.â
âwhat do you mean? we didnât even watch the movie!â
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#© hwallazia#ateez#ateez smut#song mingi#ateez mingi#mingi smut#song mingi smut#mingi x reader#mingi scenarios#mingi fanfic#ateez x reader#ateez scenarios#ateez fanfic
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Hurt comfort prompt 10 with Luke?? because I too am a whore for hurt comfort đ€đ€đ€đ€
hihihi đ€ thank you for requesting ! đ©·
âŻïž âjust- just hold me for a secondâ
OKAY, so, maybe youâre making a big deal out of it. But that didnât mean that Luke should just ignore your needs.
Lazy mornings were a favorite between the two of you, and Jack wasnât home either, so you wanted to get some time tangled up with Luke and just lay there with him.
But, he woke up first. And went straight to playing one of his ps5 (??) games and you were pissed. It was probably because you just woke up, but you wanted his attention, bad, and because he wasnât giving it to you, you flipped.
And now youâre muttering to yourself, ignoring Lukeâs eyeroll at the way you stormed out of his bedroom to make yourself coffee.
âBabe, just give me five more minutes. We can cuddle all you want later.â
You promptly ignore him and continue on your business around the kitchen.
The facade didnât last long. You tripped and fell; on water that Jack for sure forgot to clean up.
You groan as you felt the slow forming bruise on your hip and mentally curse Jack. And Luke cant even hear your thump and groan because he has his stupid headphones in. But you were tearing up at the pain, so taking the high road once wouldnât hurt your ego that much.
You limp over to Lukeâs room and open his door , leaning against it to get his attention. He looks over at you and his face etches in concern at your pained expression. His headphones are off.
âGot hurt.â You gesture to your hip. You watch skeptically as he pats his lap, urging you to come over and sit. You do it anyway, at least you have his attention now. You adjust yourself on his lap, sitting sideways so your back is against his armrest.
âWhere?â He murmurs, using his finger to wipe a stray tear on your waterline. You lift your shirt to show him your hip and the redness at the area. He inspects it with his eyes before softly pressing down on the area. âHere?â
You hiss and grip his bare shoulder. âYeah, there.â
âShit, mâsorry, baby.â He holds your hand thatâs gripping his shoulder and looks at you apologetically, if heâd just been with you all morning, you wouldnât have gotten hurt.
âCan I go get you pain meds?â He starts to maneuver you but you you stop him.
âMaybe later? Just- just hold me for a second.â
Lukeâs heart twists at your words, realizing that the stupid game wasnât worth it. Any of it. You shouldnât have gotten hurt and he shouldâve just given you what you wanted. But you werenât upset with him, because you leaned closer and hugged yourself to his bare chest, the both of you staying there for a while.
#ellie writes đââïž#ellieâs hurt/comfort drabble fest đ#luke hughes#luke hughes x reader#luke hughes imagine#luke hughes blurb#luke hughes fluff
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đ«đ - đđ:đđđ©đŠ
you roll your eyesâitâs instinct, since rafe is blaring his music again, probably waking up your neighbors and most certainly your parents. no matter how many times you ask him, heâll never park a few houses away and turn his music down, so now the sound of the vibrating bass and whatever drake song fills the silent street.Â
you close your window softly, running over to rafeâs truck as fast as you can to turn down his music. your parents have to knowâthe noise at this time of night is familiar to your entire block by now, but they donât say anything. when you climb inside the passenger seat, your hand hovers over his volume knob, trying to lower it but rafe catches your wrist.
âleave it.â he says it sternly, and you understand quickly that itâs not a request, rather a demand. his own little testâhow much do you care about everyone realizing youâre sneaking out with him right now instead of being tucked into bed like a good girl? the jokeâs on him because you adjust the knob, making the music play even louder, so much so your seat and the windows are vibrating. you smile at him like youâve just beat him at his own game and he takes off, turning the music down as soon as he turns off your streetâeliciting another eyeroll.
he makes a few more turns, and the two of you end up on a quiet street along the beachâone of the many scenic lovers lanes on the island.Â
âwhatâre you going to do if they actually wake up one time?â you question, playing with the strings of rafeâs hoodie that youâre wearing right now.Â
âwhatâd you think iâm gonna do?â he asks, one big hand resting on your exposed thigh, rubbing the soft skin there.
âi donât like to think about it,â you admit quietly, turning away to stare out the window at the waves.Â
âwhy? yâthink iâm gonna beat up your dad, or somethinâ?â you laugh, shoving rafeâs arm.
âno, i just-â
âyou just what?â you feel your face get hot. itâs easy to forget in moments like these, just the two of you alone and all the rest of the world ignored, that rafe is just that guy your friends hate, and youâre just the girl who sneaks out and lies to her family to see him.Â
âi just think youâd drive away. but at least there wouldnât be a witness, because theyâd totally kill me.â you say it with a little laugh, but rafe grips your jaw and pulls you into a kissâhard, like heâs proving something to you. rafeâs tongue finds its way into your mouth, everything feels hot and wet as you deepen the kiss and hold onto his shoulders. he pulls away to let you breathe, your chest heaving and his hands going underneath yourâhisâhoodie and pulling it off.
without words, without the need to speak at all except for your moans and rafeâs grunts, you end up folded in the backseat like always, knees hugging your chest, eyes rolling back, while rafe slams in and out of you. all you hear is rafe in your ear, murmuring low and quiet.
âlemme hear ya,â he encourages, and itâs easy to comply without the fear of someone hearing. âlouder, baby, louder-âÂ
youâre not sure how much longer it is, but you somehow canât avoid ending up like thisâshaky limbs, sore throat, and eyes unable to stay open, focusing on the feeling of rafeâs cum spilling out of you and ruining his seats.
he eases you up, like he always does, leaning against his warm body while you try to even out your breaths. in the beginning he used to bring you back to your house, but now you almost always end up at tannyhill with him. your mind is somehow exhausted and overactive, thinking about how youâre gonna sneak back into your room in the broad daylight, since thereâs no way youâre leaving tannyhill until after sunrise.
âwhat time is it?â you mumble against his chest, taking in how rafe strokes your hair.Â
âdoesnât matter. go to bed.â
âgotta get back home-â
âiâll get you home, kid. seriously. sleep, now.â
âgânight, rafe,â you sigh contently, ignoring a little ache in your heart that wishes you could stay here forever.
âand jusâ so you know, thereâs nothinâ your parents could say to keep me away from you.â
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Green Dragon Part 2
Xaden Riorson x Reader
The requested Part 2! I hope yâall enjoy the continued angst, along with fluff and happy ending. Thanks so much for reading and loving the first part!
Word Count : Over 9k
Warnings: violence, torture, swearing
Even though your relationship with Xaden never improved, you felt yourself finally willing to talk with the rest of the boys.Â
Months after the first time Bodhi said he wanted to talk to you again, you were finally back to hanging out the way you used to. Sometimes he would bring Garrick and Liam with him when you would go and hang out at the river.Â
Your favorite times to hang out with them was sunset, but one night you found yourself with Bodhi and Garrick staring up at the stars.Â
âYou know this reminds me of the time that Xaden and I first found you sneaking out of the dorms as a first year.â Garrick states.Â
You turn to look at him and arenât afraid to let him see the happiness the memory brings along with the sadness at the mention of Xaden.Â
âYou told us that we should always take time to look at the sky and appreciate the beauty around us.â He continued. âThat was after you tried to take both of us on to stop from getting told to get back to the citadel.â I smile back at the amused look he now has on his face.
âI canât help the fact that neither one of you would just let me enjoy the stars. Besides, if the two of you hadnât found me out here, we probably wouldnât be friends. Itâs not my fault that you thought I was trying to uncover your secrets.â I huff back at him, earning an eyeroll from the man after mentioning their secrets.
âYeah well, we didnât plan on letting you in on any secrets.â He snarked, even though you knew there was really no menace behind it.Â
âToo late for that now.â You say as you give him a saccharine sweet smile.
It wasnât your fault that the entire group adopted you into their family. You supposed you were just lucky. Although, you knew that if you hadnât come across that one letter that was irresponsibly tossed, you wouldâve never learned the truth either.
âYou were smarter and more observant than the Wingleader gives you credit for.â Cedri concluded in your mind.
Another smile breaks out over your face at your dragonâs continued skills to make you feel like you were too clever for your own good. At least you knew that was one way you got on Xadenâs nerves. For some reason, he could never predict what information you could get out of anyone. Even though he tried to keep things from you, you always seemed to pick them apart and discover what they were doing.Â
âBesides, you needed to know what we are up against if you were going to fight like the Wingleader expects you to.âÂ
âYes, well I suppose I wonât have to live up to his expectations anymore.â I sass back not wanting to talk about the âWingleaderâ with my dragon.
âYou may not want to talk about him, but that doesnât stop your thoughts.â Cedri muses into your mind.
You canât help the labored sigh that breaks from you after your dragon points out your inability to let Xaden go completely.
âThank you, Oh Illustrious One, for pointing out my human weakness of emotions for the millionth time.â You sigh back to him. If only you could block him out from your emotional thoughts, maybe he wouldnât be pulling on your weakness for what seems like the thousandth time.Â
Cedri huffs in your mind, the sound of amusement reverberating from your bond. You may have tried to move on, but that didnât stop the fact that you still had feelings for Xaden that were more than just caring if he was alive.
âWhatâs got you huffing?â Bodhi asks from your other side, amusement laced in his tone.
âOh, just a nosy dragon commenting on my internal thoughts.â You chime back at him, letting out another sigh before you let your head drop to Bodhiâs shoulder enjoying the quiet night with sparkling stars.Â
In the absence of Xaden, you had gotten closer to Bodhi, especially since he was now in your squad, and you were still spending a good amount of time with your squad members. It was perfectly ridiculous you thought. Of course, you would now be extremely close friends with the cousin of the man that seemed to still haunt you.Â
Though it was a perfect distraction for you both. Bodhi had told you that the time he spent with Xaden had significantly diminished since War Games had begun. You had begun a new routine with him helping you train after dinner for an hour almost every night. Even Garrick would join in whenever he was available and needed to blow off some steam.Â
It was one of those sparring nights when you found yourself laying on the mat trying to regain your breath after a spar with Garrick. You couldnât keep the smile from your face and the contagious laugh that broke out as you and Bodhi had been teasing Garrick about his obvious interest in Imogen.Â
You were so caught up in your enjoyment that you didnât even hear the door to the gym open. Therefore, it was even more surprising when you sat up from the mat and ended up looking directly back into those onyx eyes you hadnât had the courage to meet in some time.Â
The laughter immediately died from your lips, and you found yourself getting up and turning towards the girlâs locker rooms.Â
âIâll see you boys tomorrow.â You threw over your shoulder to your two sparring partners.
You hadnât even taken two steps before you felt a hand close around your wrist. You immediately knew who it was, with the memories of those calloused hands flashing brightly in your mind. Your heart began to race, and you battled with yourself if you really wanted to turn around and face the man that had a hold on your wrist.Â
Deciding on trying to save yourself from spiraling, you gently tugged on your hand hoping that he would just let it drop. Unfortunately for you, it didnât seem like Xaden was in the mood to acquiesce to your wants.Â
You turned around to face the man that you had been studiously avoiding for the last five months and looked at your hand where he still had his wrapped around your wrist. You kept your eyes trained down, not wanting to look up and see what exactly was in Xadenâs inner monologue of his eyes. You could have kept it that way until he decided he was going to speak.
âLook at me, please.â He asked, his voice quieter than you had ever heard it before.Â
It was then you noticed that the gym was empty as Bodhi and Garrick mustâve been given an order to leave. Knowing that there was no way to avoid him, you slowly moved your eyes towards his onyx ones. As soon as you met them, you knew that it was a mistake to look.Â
There was no denying that there was a sadness etched in the look he was giving you. But that wasnât the only thing, at least thatâs what you thought, it seemed you saw a look of love and regret behind those eyes. You couldnât help the absolute disbelief that crossed your mind. There was no way this man, who was obviously so interested in someone else really wanted you.Â
Feeling the conviction of your certainty that you no longer held the heart of the man in front of you, you finally found the courage to speak.
âWhat do you want from me Xaden?â You asked with an edge of exasperation in your voice and a tired sigh leaving your lips.
For a moment you felt regret for the flinch that you couldnât avoid seeing as he took in your words. But why were you supposed to feel guilty when he was the one who broke your heart.Â
âI want to talk to you about everything. I need you to be part of my life. Pleaseïżœïżœlet me explain.â He starts.Â
You continue to stare at him trying to take in his words, but everything around you still seems to crumble.
âI may have believed that before I saw you kiss her, Xaden. And I know from your own friends that itâs gone further now. Thereâs no need for me to be put in the middle of your seemingly budding relationship.â You say but you canât help the hurt that comes through your voice.Â
You feel the sting of tears gathering in your eyes and drop your face once more not wanting him to know that the betrayal still affects you this way. You go to pull your hand away, but you feel a strong grip pull you forward, and he crushes you to his chest in an embrace.Â
âPlease donât.â You whisper trying desperately to hold back your tears while your body stiffens. Without ever meeting his gaze again, you push against his chest, and you feel his arms reluctantly let you go. You turn around and walk out of the gym with your head down. Â
As you trudge your way back to your room, youâre shocked to find Garrick standing by your door.Â
âHey.â He says softly looking at you with nothing but understanding in his eyes.
âIâm not in the right frame of my mind to entertain anyone Gare.â You say trying to hide the tremble of emotions in your voice.Â
âI know. Iâm not here for you to entertain me. I just wanted to make sure you are okay.â He says quietly.Â
You look up to see him looking at you with nothing but sadness and a sincerity to help. He opens his arms seeming to know you need someone to lean on, and you walk straight into them.
He doesnât even get the door to your room closed before you are sagging in his arms letting the tears flow freely. You know that you donât usually show emotions like this, especially in front of the guys, but youâre tired of putting up a strong front. If just for tonight.Â
You donât know how long you sit there on the floor of your room, the tears flowing freely while Garrick rocks you in his arms, but eventually your tears seem to dry up and exhaustion starts to claim you. With help from Garrick, you make your way to the bed.
âThank you, Gare.â You whisper to him as your eyes fall closed and the exhaustion claims you.
After that night, it seemed both you and Xaden avoided each other and never found yourselves alone in a room again. Soon you knew he would be leaving for his outpost as a new Lieutenant, and you wouldnât have to look around for him anymore.Â
Unfortunately for you, the night of graduation wasnât to be one for celebrating for you. As you stood in the courtyard after you had said your goodbyes to Garrick, you had to watch as Xaden was walked to the flight field by Violet. For a moment, you caught each otherâs eyes, and you could feel yourself drowning in his dark eyes.Â
You saw Violet saying something to him, but he never seemed to tear his gaze away from you. Not wanting to cause any issues in their relationship, you dropped your gaze and proceeded to walk to your room.Â
âDo not worry yourself Stormy One. You will get even stronger this year and will be ready to take on the next challenge.â Cedri encourages you.
âI just hope if I make it to graduation, I wonât have to be stationed with him. I donât want to watch their relationship while fighting this war.â You say to Cedri, even though you know you are drowning in your own self-pity tonight.Â
You fling yourself down on your bed and pray that sleep will take you without any nightmares.Â
As the months flew by, you threw yourself into classes and learning runes. If there was one thing you would always be thankful to Xaden for, it would be teaching you Tyrrish culture. You always found it fascinating to learn everything you could about each of the different provinces.Â
One night while practicing runes with Bodhi in your room, there was a knock at your door. You figured that it must be one of your squad mates looking for help on some homework, but your eyes flew wide at the person standing on the other side of the door.
Xaden.
You stared back at him not really believing that he was standing there in front of you. Wasnât he supposed to be at his station? Why was he in Basgiath? And even more confusingly, why was he knocking on your door?
Before your mind goes into too many directions, your brain clicks back into gear, and you realize he must be here for Sgaeyl to visit Tairn. And he must be here looking for Bodhi.Â
âI believe someone is here for you Bodhi.â You say and turn to go back and sit on your bed. You return to the more complicated fabric runes that you had been working on and try to distract yourself. However, after a few seconds, you realize that you hadnât heard your door click.Â
You look up to see Xaden staring at you his eyes moving from your hands where the fabric lies, up to your face. It seems he canât help the small smile that makes the left side of his mouth tick upwards and the slight crinkle to his eyes, a look of happiness dancing in his gaze.Â
You are both cut short in your staring when Bodhi clears his throat as he walks up to meet his cousin at your door.
âCome on cousin. We can talk in my room.â Bodhi says as he moves past Xaden and begins to close the door behind him. You watch as Bodhi pulls at Xadenâs flight jacket sleeve before the door clicks and your view is obscured.
You canât help the deep breath that leave your lungs as soon as you hear the lock slide back into place. How long had it been since you had seen him? You try not to think about the fact that the man still makes your heart race just by looking at you. And just about makes you faint when he deigns to give up one of his true smiles.Â
âUgh. Get. It. Together.â You breathe out in frustration and correct yourself. You can only think how grateful you will be to finally get out of Basgiath and hopefully never have to lay eyes on this man that seems stuck in your soul ever again.
Not even two days later, you wake with a pounding headache and an uncertainty in where the hell you are. The last thing you remember, you were heading to the bathing chamber after a day of training with Bodhi. Both of you laughing at an inside joke between the two of you from your first year.Â
And then the memory clicks, of cloth covering your mouth while strong arms wrapped around your torso. Before succumbing to the substance on the cloth, your vision was blackened with a black cloth bag that was thrown over your head.Â
You look around at the sight and think you must be back in your second year again and having to take part in RSC again. Then you remember, youâre a third year.Â
Before your mind can continue to catch up, you hear the door behind you click open. You hear boots click on the floor coming closer and closer to you before a figure stops in front of you.
Varrish.Â
Your heart rate begins to pick up. Why the hell were you being interrogated? Why would Varrish be handling it? You hadnât done anything reckless in weeks that you can remember. You certainly hadnât done anything to break the codex.Â
âWelcome back to the land of the living, for now at least.â Varrish spits at you while looking down at your restrained body.
âWhy the hell am I being retained Vice Commandant?â You question, though you canât help the disgust in the tone that leaves your lips.Â
âAh, you did not do anything. However, youâre instrumental in getting the person we need back to Basgiath.â He continues venomously.
You canât help the look of confusion that must be all over your face. Who would come back to Basgiath for you? You werenât from a family of riders. Most of them were just regular civilians living their lives. You were the only one in your family that felt the call to come to Basgiath, let alone become a dragon rider. Who did the Vice Commandant feel would come to rescue you?
Your look of confusion must have entertained Varrish as you watch a slimey smile cross his face, followed by a sneer of disgust painting your features.Â
âOh, I believe you are aware of the Lieutenant that I speak of cadet.â He drawls, continuing his manic pacing in front of you.
At that statement, the facts in your mind finally arrange themselves. For some reason, Varrish thinks Xaden will come back to Basgiath for you.
The look of disbelief that flashes in your face is followed by one of resignation. Youâre going to die here. The repulsive man in front of you is going to torture and kill you and you canât even stop him. Xaden is not coming to rescue you. He would never threaten everything for you. He has other priorities now. Youâre just going to be another name on the death rolls.
The resignation hits you, along with the acceptance that you cannot break. You cannot betray Xaden, Bodhi, Garrick or any of your other marked friends, whether or not you were still part of their lives.
âYouâre in for a surprise if you expect him to come here.â You spit out along with the blood that has continued to fill your mouth after the right hook to your face from Varrish.
âIâm not the one that will help you accomplish your goals; I believe youâre looking for a Cadet Sorrengail.â You continue even though every word causes pain to crash across your now broken jaw.
âAnd I think you are mistaken cadet. The cadre has noticed more than once the feelings Lieutenant Riorson seems to harbor for you.â Varrish spits back out crouching down and getting into your face.
âBesides, Cadet Sorrengail has not returned to Basgiath since her group of traitors stole from the Archives. Although, I will say we didnât expect this much of a fuss from your dragon.â He snarks as he gets closer to your face. His putrid breath mingling with the damp smell from the holding cell and the fresh scent of your blood. Why did it seem like this was something they had planned all along?
Your breath catches at the mention of Cedri, you let a thought you hope he can hear cross your mind.
âThank you for being my dragon, Cedri. It has been an honor to be your rider. Please promise me youâll live and find another worthy rider.â
You close your eyes and let your head fall back onto the hard wood of the chair youâve been strapped to. You realize that the connection to Cedri has somehow been severed. They mustâve drugged you with the new concoction you had heard the second yearâs talking about.Â
Time seems to slow and even though you have accepted your fate, you canât stop the excruciating pain thatâs continually inflicted on your body.Â
Gods how many days have I been in here.
The only thing you could do now was hold onto the last good memories you had and hope that your body would give up soon.Â
It wasnât helping that Varrish and his posse kept bringing up Xaden and opening up the wound that never seemed to heal from lost love. Couldnât he just leave the one person that was an open wound out of the salt he continued to pour over your body in the form of kicks, punches, and broken bones. The physical pain was one thing you could handle, but the emotional torture seemed to be toying with your mind even more.
As you fade in and out of consciousness after enduring another day of torture, you can hear voices outside of the door to the chamber youâve been held in.Â
âWeâll need to move her tonight. The cadets looking for her are getting closer and we canât punish them when we donât have any ground on holding her here.â You hear a distinctly female voice comment.
âOf course, we have ground. Iâm the Vice Commandant. I punish cadets as I see fit and this cadet is more than deserving of punishment.â You can hear Varrish spit to whoever the other voice belongs to.Â
You canât help the small light that ignites in your chest when you hear that at least someone at Basgiath has realized you are missing and is trying to get to you. The thought is short lived when the door swings back open and a black cloth bag is forced back over your head.Â
You would scream. You would try to kick and punch. You would cry. But theyâve nearly torn all the emotions and reactions that you have in your body from you. You are exhausted. The small fire that someone is looking for you disappears when you feel your broken body being picked up and tossed over a shoulder.Â
Suddenly you feel the temperatures around you are plummeting even colder. The slight dampness of the cell you were contained in before was nothing compared to the water you hear now steadily dripping somewhere onto a stone floor. The scent of muddy earth and moss intensifies as you feel the person continue down steps.Â
You find yourself numb. This must finally be where I die you think. No one is going to find you this far down beneath, what you think is the fortress of Basgiath.Â
How far down are you even? The frigid temperatures donât help you when you feel yourself start to shiver, but it takes everything not to break down in sobs at the pain radiating from the shivers. You feel yourself getting tired. You donât even think you can remember what the sun on your face feels like.Â
You take a deep breath trying to calm the tightness that seems to be pulling in your chest. How much longer until you finally welcome me home, Malek? You canât help but think as your vision begins to blacken from the blood that still seems to be pouring from the wound in your side.Â
Gods. How many times will they make you do this before they just kill you. At this point, you can only feel that death would be a mercy.
Time begins to slip by again, torture, mending, more torture, more mending. Youâre unsure of how many more times you have been tossed around as they move you from different areas so no one could find you, even if they tried.Â
You are again by yourself in the dark. Your left eye has completely swollen shut from this morningâs punch to your eye socket. Your right eye isnât much better, they mustâve shattered your cheekbone when hitting you with the iron cuff across your face this morning. But the worst pain must be the bleeding gash that has been torn across your abdomen. You can feel the wound still seeping blood as you take shallow breaths that seem not to be enough to keep your lungs functioning.Â
This is finally it. You think to yourself, hoping that you can finally have the peace of blissful sleep as you slip into Malekâs arms.Â
Suddenly you hear a commotion, the room you are in seems somehow to get even darker. You try to hold on, but oblivion seems to keep pulling at your consciousness. You hear distant voices, but you canât make out the words they are saying.Â
As you feel your head rolling back and your vision completely blacken, you hear the door bang open. You donât even try to open your eyes as you know the only thing that the noise could possibly be is more torture heading your way. But before you completely lose consciousness, you could swear you hear a masculine voice breathe out your name in rage and panic.
ÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂÂ______________________________________________________________
You never thought death would have a smell. And you canât help at the sarcastic huff that you think when you realize the smell is just like Xaden. Distinctly mint and leather. Why would Malek want to torture you for eternity? What great sin were you paying for?
You didnât ever think that in death youâd be able to feel things either. You move your fingers slightly and are shocked to feel what seems to be soft sheets enveloping you. Its then that you realize that you still feel the haze of pain over your body.Â
This must not be death. They only mended me again.Â
You canât help the disappointment you feel that you havenât been set free from the chains of the torture youâve been enduring. But confusion causes you to crease your eyebrows when you realize there is glorious sunlight dusting your eyelids.Â
You slowly try to flutter your eyes open and are greeted with an even more shocking sight. You are in a bedroom, not in a damp cell any longer. You try to move your body, but you feel as if everything is still broken. So instead, you turn your head to the side and canât help the breath that gets caught in your throat.Â
There, in the chair next to the bed youâve been placed in, is Xaden. His head is resting on his hand at an uncomfortable angle, but the thing that shocks you is the way his eyes seem puffy and red rimmed as if he had been crying. You follow the rest of his body and find that he also has his other hand draped on the side of the bed that was almost touching your hand.Â
You continue to take him in a few more minutes, before he begins to stir and shift positions in the chair he is in. You watch as he begins to bring his head up, your heart rate begins to race at the thought of your eyes meeting his onyx ones.Â
Finally, his gaze meets yours and you watch as his eyes widen comically before he is soaring from the chair and moving to the side of your bed and grabbing for your hand.Â
âY/N.â He says breathlessly, as if he thought heâd never be able to say your name again.Â
He continues to stare at you wide-eyed, though you notice the purple that is smudged underneath his eyes.Â
You continue to take in his rumpled form. From his hair that is completely disheveled to the sunken in look to his swollen eyes, this is a Xaden Riorson that you never thought you would see. He looks lost, shaken, and completely ready to fall apart.Â
As the shock of everything begins to wear off, you start trying to push yourself from the bed. Before you can even sit up completely, your whole-body sags and you fall back into the mattress. An irritated grunt leaves you lips, but Xaden is worriedly moving closer trying to coax you to lay back down.
âDonât try to move too much. Your body is still healing.â He rasps out. His voice sounding gravelly from disuse and emotion.Â
He goes to move closer to you, but you flinch when you feel him coming closer at a rate that seems too fast. He sees and immediately tenses up. You look at him with sorrow in your eyes.
âIâm sorry. I â Iâm â itâs just...â You trail off not really knowing how to voice the fact that youâre scared, although you know that Xaden would never hurt you. Your voice is dry, and you try to swallow to help coat your vocal cords.Â
You bring your hand up to your neck and gingerly touch it, remembering the feeling of someone choking you until you couldnât breathe and were about to black out.Â
You can see the absolute sorrow that passes across Xadenâs face, but thereâs also a look of absolute rage that flickers behind it.Â
âNo, Iâm sorry. I didnât mean to scare you.â He says while moving back to sit next to where your hand is. You watch as the man you know as so confident, seems to fiddle not knowing where to go or how to proceed.Â
If it werenât for the fact of what youâd been enduring, you would find the sight of Xaden being insecure as endearing.Â
âWould you like some water?â Xaden asks hesitantly, now seeming like he doesnât want to scare you too much.Â
As you go to respond, your mouth feels too dry, so you shake your head in confirmation. You watch as Xaden slowly rises from the bed and grabs the cup of water on the nightstand not far from you. You try to sit up again but hiss in pain when you try to bend your abdomen.Â
You look down to see an angry scar running across your stomach that looks to have been mended a few times. Before you can try again, you feel two strong hands lift you from you shoulders and set you up against the headboard.Â
âThank you.â You rasp out before gingerly taking the glass of water from Xadenâs hand. You bring the glass to your lips and close your eyes as you take a drink of clean water. Itâs impossible for you to remember the last time you even had a drink of water, causing you to furrow your brows trying to figure out the day.Â
You finally bring the glass down and look back up at the man perched on the side of the bed. You realize heâs been watching you carefully, seeming to try and take in every feature of yours that he can.
âDo you know how long I was held?â You choke out. Hoping that your voice doesnât give away the fear that is still in your bones at being held captive again.Â
You watch as Xadenâs face becomes even more sunken in, as if he is hating himself for some reason.Â
âThey had you for seven days.â He chokes out, not being able to hide the emotion taking over his voice. He takes a moment to settle before continuing.
âBodhi got word to me by the second day, but I wasnât able to get to you immediately.â You see the wetness that is starting to pool in his eyes. âIâm so fucking sorry. You donât know what it felt like knowing you were there, and I couldnât get to you.â
You watch as Xaden tries as hard as he can, but he canât stop the few tears that seem to escape from his eyes.Â
âIt wasnât your fault, Xaden.â You tell him, looking down as you donât want to break yourself from all the emotions heâs shown today.
You feel him scoot closer on the bed and the next thing you realize; your hands are in his. It feels surreal to have someone else touching you and not causing you pain. You do everything you can to not completely tense every fiber of your body. Itâs as if he can read your hesitance and he begins to softly stroke his thumbs over your knuckles.Â
The action that is so achingly familiar causes you to close your eyes in comfort before looking up at him sadly. You try to hide the sad smile that steals across your face, but you canât hide it when you find him bringing his hand to your chin to tip up your face.Â
âIt is my fault. Those fuckers were looking for me and used you as godsdamned bait. They deserved more pain than what they were given.â He says and you can feel the rage that crawls into his voice as if it is a living, breathing thing.Â
âAre â are they still alive?â You ask, your voice sounding small and afraid.Â
He tilts your chin up to him and holds it firmly in place looking at you directly in your eyes.
âNo.â He says firmly, without hesitation. âThey are all fucking dead. But, if I could kill them again, I would.â
You feel your body sag in relief at the news that those who inflicted all this pain are no longer alive. You feel two hot tears slide from the side of your eyes unbidden. You watch as Xaden brings up a hand to wipe both of the tears from your eyes.Â
You take in the feeling that you are something precious to the man in front of you, relishing in the attention before you know you will need to give it up.Â
âThank you for saving me. Iâm not sure how much longer I would have lasted.â You say, knowing that your body was the closest to death you had ever felt.Â
âYou shouldnât be thanking me. You should hate me. If it wasnât for the fact that youâve been involved with me, that wouldâve never happened to you.â He says getting frustrated with himself.
This time you stretch your hand to his face, and cup his cheek, running your thumb over his cheek.
âI could never hate you, Xaden.â You look at him with your eyes going soft. Even with everything youâd been through, you would never wish ill on him, knowing how much he has endured in his life. Â
You drop you hand from his face and bring it back to your side. You feel exhaustion pulling you back down, knowing that your body is still healing. Not wanting to be more of a burden than necessary, you scoot back under the covers and bring the blankets back up.Â
Looking back at Xaden and knowing him sitting here blaming himself is keeping him from his happiness, you canât help the words out of your mouth.
âYou can leave Xaden. You donât have to babysit me, Iâll be alright.â You say even though the statement lances sorrow through your heart.Â
He looks back at you and his brows knit. âIâm not here to babysit you. Iâm here because I want to make sure youâre alright. Iâm here because I care about you.â He says going to grab your hand again.Â
Right before you are about to respond to him, the door pushes open and the sight before you makes every thought you had seconds ago crumble. Standing in the doorway is the silver-haired girl that started the whole mess you find yourself in now.Â
Weariness now settles over your bones, and you turn you face away from the man that used to be your whole world. You turn to your side and close your eyes, hoping beyond hope that if you sleep, you will wake and the last week or so will be just a bad nightmare.Â
You hear Xaden let out a long sigh and feel as the bed springs back up as his weight leaves it. You hear the door click shut and let out a ragged breath.Â
Before you finally drift back into unconsciousness, you hear voices outside the door.
âWhat do you need Violet? I thought I asked you not to come up here unless necessary.â You hear Xaden reply tersely.Â
âIâm sorry Xaden. But the Assembly asked me to come and get you. They are having a strategy meeting and requested you to be there.â You hear Violet explain.
âCouldnât you have just asked through the bond?â He says with an annoyed edge to his tone.
âWell, I would have, but youâve had me blocked out mostly since youâve returned from Basgiath five days ago.â You hear her reply curtly.
Your mind not waiting to hear any more of the conversation, shuts off and you find yourself drifting back into unconsciousness.Â
Weeks pass and youâve found yourself trying to get back to your previous strength. Itâs been weeks of light training with Bodhi and Garrick, along with nights that haunt you. Trying to gather some sort of strength from everything they had taken from you.
The next thing you know, itâs just another night where you find yourself awoken by the feeling of a hand clamping around your throat and feel the phantom pain of a sword ghosting across your abdomen.Â
You awake with a start, sweat covering your entire body, your heart beating erratically. Luckily, you were smart enough to put a sound shield on the room youâve been staying in, because your throat is hoarse from the scream that just tore from it.Â
After what seems like an eternity, your heartbeat begins to slow, and you can take full breaths once more.Â
Knowing that sleep wonât be finding you again any time soon, you wrap yourself in your flight jacket and close the door to your room softly behind you.Â
As you descend the stairs from your room, you find yourself walking towards the hills that surround the fortress. Without questioning your steps, you continue up to one that you think will have an excellent view of the sunrise.Â
You smile slightly to yourself when the memory of watching the stars until sunrise with Xaden crosses your mind. You thought that being in Riorson House would feel stifling, like you couldnât escape the aura of Xaden. But, for some reason you donât understand, the fortress feels like a warm blanket that can shield you from all the horrors that youâve had to deal with since arriving at Basgiath.Â
When you make it to the top of the hill, you canât help the small gasp that tears from your lips at the beautiful view before you. Sinking down next to one of the large trees, you look over the small town that has been rebuilt below you and take everything in with awe.Â
You always knew that Xaden and the other marked ones loved their homes, but it warmed your heart to see the work that they had put into helping others begin to put their lives back together.Â
You take a deep breath and lean your head back against the tree, closing your eyes and enjoying the quiet sounds of the early morning. Youâll never take for granted the life around you, even though winter is coming, and the sounds are quieter, not after being held in that cell and being deprived of the world.Â
 As you sit there in the stillness and enjoy the quiet, you feel your body begin to want to drift off, but the pop of a branch breaking brings you out of your calm.Â
Quickly turning and jumping to your feet with your heart racing, you are surprised to see a familiar face staring back at you.
âI didnât mean to scare you.â He says, his eyes sad and tone quiet.
âItâs alright. I â Iâm still getting used to real life.â You say as you drop your eyes feeling ashamed for being scared of such small things.Â
While your gaze is down, you hear footsteps as they cautiously come towards you until two booted feet are standing inches away. A hand comes up and three fingers gently bring your chin up to look into two onyx eyes.Â
You donât know why, but you canât seem to tear your eyes away from his gaze. His eyes bore into yours, seeming to search for something.Â
âYou shouldnât feel ashamed for being afraid.â He says as his thumb strokes your cheek. âYouâve been through a lot. I just hope that you feel safe here.â
âI hope that you feel cared for.â He continues, although his words seem slightly hesitant.
You give him a small smile, knowing that if it wasnât for the man before you, you wouldnât be able to enjoy the small things anymore.Â
Itâs as if that small gesture opens a dam for him and before you really can think his hand is cradling the back of your head to his chest and his other arm is snaked around your waist holding you close to him. Â
You hear as he gives a small huff of a laugh before speaking. âLeave it to you to find the one spot in Aretia thatâs incredibly special to me.â He begins.
You pull your head back slightly to look back at him and raise an eyebrow.Â
âWhat do you mean âleave it to meâ?â You ask.
He looks down at you, his eyes softening although he hasnât let go of your waist.Â
âYou were always the one to figure out things I tried to hide, no matter how well I thought they were hidden.â He explains while giving you a small smile.
With that action and those words, you canât control the smile that steals across your face and the way your eyes crinkle. One of the things about your relationship you always enjoyed was the small gestures and emotions he gave only to you.Â
After a few moments of silence, Xaden breaks the quiet.
âWill you please let me explain everything to you? Please.â He says while now going to cup your face.
âYou can decide what you want to do from there, but I need you to listen. Please. I miss you so fucking much.â He begs while letting the longing and sadness heâs feeling leach into his voice.Â
The smile falls from your face, but you know that there is no way to completely avoid him or this conversation forever at this point. You take a small step back, but you canât go far because of the firm hold Xaden has on your face. You give a small nod.
âOkay.â You say in a whisper, not trusting your voice to get any louder.
The strange rush of relief that crosses his face makes your heart beat a little faster. He drops his hands from your face and threads his fingers through yours before tugging slightly to have you sit down next to him.
When youâre both seated against the trunk of the tree where you were watching the sunrise, you turn to him to see him already watching you. He still hasnât let your hand go, before he begins.
âIâve had more than enough time to ruminate on everything that has happened between us over almost the entire last year. And I will never be able to make up for all of the ways that Iâve failed you.â He starts as his face falls to your intertwined hands that he has now brought into his lap.Â
âI never once came to you to explain everything. It all started when Bodhi informed me that you had seen me kiss Violet.â
You donât miss how he flinches at the revelation, though youâre unsure if it was because Bodhi told him or because he did it in the first place. With the painful reminder, your own heart falters again and you go to take your hand back, but he now has it held in a vice grip.Â
âI shouldnât have brushed you off. I should never have gotten involved with Violet. The kiss was a mistake that happened when we both were overwhelmed with the bond of Sgaeyl and Tairn not shielding. I know that doesnât make it alright, that nothing ever will, but I want you to know that Iâll never forgive myself for that even happening. Especially when you were still the person I was thinking about.â
It's shocking to you how much of a dam that he mustâve been holding in because he canât seem to stop talking. The next thing you know, he is explaining that both he and Violet got further involved because they were both trying to move past their previous relationships. Him with the reminder of you and everything that he had lost. And she with a relationship that she thought was always going to be part of her life.
As you listened, you realize that you both were just living in the hurt that you both inflicted on each other. Him for not realizing how much he had begun to pull away and not show the attention you deserved and you for not going to him and explaining how you were feeling.Â
As he continued to fill you in on everything that has been happening in the past few months, you lean your head back on the tree and close your eyes taking in all the information. Soon enough, your ears are greeted by silence, and you pick your head up and open your eyes.
You turn to see Xaden staring at you seeming to take in your full form as if heâs a man that has been denied water for numerous days. He finally looks back into your eyes and all you see is a burning fight in them, as if he would never be able to part from you.Â
âDo you think you can find it in your heart to forgive me?â He asks hesitantly as if he is afraid of the actual answer.Â
You look back at him and of course your heart breaks looking at the hurt look on his face and the way he is so tentative with you. However, you know that it canât just be that easy for either of you.
âI think maybe we could get there.â You say, your voice small as your own uncertainty shines through.Â
You watch as his face crumples and sadness takes over the hopeful expression he had. Though it doesnât stay around long. Soon enough, he sets his face in determination and looks back at you again.Â
âOkay â Alright. I can work with that.â He says, setting his jaw as if he is getting ready for battle.Â
He gets up and reaches his hand out for you. âCome on,â he says. âLetâs go get some breakfast.â
You take his hand, and he intertwines your fingers again, slowly guiding you back down the hill towards the fortress of Riorson House.Â
Before you break through the doors, he turns to you, and you almost run right into his chest at the rate you had been following behind. His arm jets out to grab your waist and steady you before speaking.
âWill you train with me?â He questions looking at you with expectant eyes.Â
âSure.â You say with a slight hesitance.Â
A smile breaks out over his face, and he brings your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckles. Your eyes blow wide at the gesture, but heâs walking through the doors and pulling you with him again.
The next thing you know another month has passed and you can feel yourself finally feeling stronger again. Not to mention your friendship with Xaden has been growing stronger day by day.Â
You start enjoying his company again and begin sitting with him and all his family during dinners, enjoying talking and laughing together.Â
One night, you find yourself on the mats stretching, waiting to see who the sparring partner that will join you today will be.Â
Soon enough, Garrick comes strolling through the door one of his charming grins plastered over his face. You give him a quick smile as you continue your stretching.
âReady for a fight?â He quips.
âOf course.â You sass back at him.
âWell, you should be resting comfortably at least. You know since you have the biggest room in this damn house.â He jokes.
Your brows furrow in confusion as you pick up your head to look over at your friend.Â
âWhat are you talking about? Why would I have the biggest room?â You ask in confusion.
âYou mean to tell me you never noticed how much larger the room youâre in is compared to the rest of ours?â
You start to think about all the times that youâve been in your friendsâ rooms, especially those close to Xaden. All the rooms seemed spacious enough, but you had never realized how large yours was until now.Â
âWhy the hell would I have the biggest room? Shouldnât Xaden? Itâs his house.â You say confused.
You quirk your eyebrows when Garrick begins to laugh heartily and looks at you as if you havenât realized what youâve said.Â
âHe does have the largest room. He just hasnât been staying in it.â Garrick explains.
Your brows stay furrowed for a few more seconds before realization dawns and your eyes widen in shock.
âWhy the hell would Xaden give me his room?â You ask in shock and confusion.
âYou should know the answer to that question.â He says back to you with a pointed look before continuing.
âYou should know by now how madly in love that man is with you. When we finally were able to get to you and bring you backâŠâ He starts while shaking his head seeming to recount the memory. âIâve never seen him so crazed. Between the fact that it took days to make a plan and execute it so we could get to that room without too much resistance. Then getting you back to Riorson House, and you being so broken. Iâve never seen him like that. He wouldnât even leave your side while Brennan mended you.â
You sit there staring at your friend as he continues to recount the story.
âIf it wasnât for the fact that he had to go to some Assembly meetings, he wouldnât have left that room until you woke up. We had to almost spoon feed him and drag him to any meetings he was required at. Even then, he made Violet stay in the room with you while he was gone, because she can communicate with him directly. He wouldnât let us do it because we couldnât get information to him immediately.â
You shake your head slightly and drop your head. You canât believe that you didnât even know any of that, let alone realize you had taken over Xadenâs room.Â
Before you can get yourself together, you see the doors of the sparring gym swing open again and Xaden walk in. You see him look up at you and smile, until he sees the look on your face. He seems to speed up the pace of his walk before heâs standing in front of you and Garrick.
âWhat?â He says with concern laced in his tone, looking down at you. âWhatâs the matter?â
You see Garrick look between the two of you and he smirks slightly before starting to walk away.Â
âI think Iâll take my leave for right now.â Garrick says amusedly.Â
You and Xaden watch as Garrick walks to the door, and it swings shut behind him. Xaden turns his head back to you and looks you in the eyes, concern still laced in his features.Â
âWhat happened?â
âWhy am I staying in your room Xaden?â You ask, pure curiosity in your voice.
You watch as his eyes widen, and his looks turn sheepish. He looks down at his feet and youâre shocked to see this intimidating man looking as if he was caught red handed like a child stealing a slice of chocolate cake.
âI â uh â wanted you to be comfortable.â He says, although you can sense there is something else he isnât saying.
âUh huh. Comfortable? And why exactly wouldnât I have been comfortable in one of the other bedrooms of Riorson House?â You challenge, enjoying it too much when you see a flush grace the cheeks of Xaden Riorson.Â
âWell â I mean â You wouldâve been. But â âHe continues stammering.
âBut what Riorson?â You continue, enjoying putting him on edge.Â
Your relationship has been getting stronger and Xaden has done nothing but prove himself day in and out. Itâs with that knowledge you find yourself feeling a new sense of bravado, especially when you already have him off kilter.Â
As the conversation has continued, youâve slowly been bringing yourself closer to him. As he continues to look back at you sheepishly, you bring your hand and place it on his chest. You watch as the move continues to rattle him, and he swallows thickly.
With a mischievous smirk sneaking across your face, you leave rationale behind and continue to rise on your toes and place your lips to his. You keep your eyes open, just to watch his reaction and what you see makes you smile into the kiss.
First his eyes blow wide in shock and his body tenses, before you feel his arms snake around your waist and pull you flush against his chest. The next thing you know, his eyes have closed, and the kiss has turned into one of pure desperation. You follow, closing your eyes, as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and spear your fingers through the hair at the back of his neck.
The kiss feels like a mix of new excitement and coming home. Too soon, you feel him slowing down the kiss and pulling back slightly. He places his forehead against yours and tries to catch his breath, his gaze boring into your eyes, searching for an answer to a question he hasnât voiced.
âWhat does this mean?â He asks breathlessly, before rushing to continue. âPlease know I donât expect anything, not after everything I put you through. But if there is any chance at all for you to be mine again, please know that I will not waste it.â
You stare straight into his eyes, searching to see if his words are the truth. Not seeing anything in his gaze but pure hope, you smile at him.Â
âIâm yours.â You say to him and watch the most blindingly perfect smile spreads across his whole face.Â
Not even a second later, you feel yourself being picked up and swung around in a tight hug. Xaden hasnât even put you down before heâs crashing his lips back into yours, the smile he was wearing still tearing at his lips.Â
âI promise that even though I may still piss you off and be an ass at times, Iâll never let what happened between us ever happen again. Youâre mine, and Iâm never letting you go, never again.â He declares after you both finally pull apart.Â
âCome on.â He says, pulling you by your hand.
âWhere are we going? I thought we were training?â You say all while laughing at the antics of the man pulling you along.
âFuck training. Weâre going to watch the sunset on my favorite hill and Iâm not letting you go for one minute.â  He says as he continues to pull you through Riorson House to the doors.
At that point, a smile of pure happiness settles across your face as you follow the man that has your heart out the door and into the endless possibilities that lie ahead.Â
As he rests against the trunk of the tree with you wrapped in his arms against his chest and his head nuzzled in your hair, you canât help but think this may be the most beautiful sunset youâve ever seen.Â
#fourth wing fanfic#fourth wing x reader#xaden riorson#xaden riorson x reader#bodhi durran x reader#garrick tavis#bodhi durran#garrick tavis x reader#xaden fanfic#fourth wing xaden#xaden x reader
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<3 abby is the type of gf to open a jar for you even when youâre mad at each-other
đ«đ„
⊠imagine you guys got into a argument for whatever reason and are now giving eachother the silent treatment
⊠itâs so childish and silly, refusing to leave the same room yet acting as if the other doesnât exist pls
⊠lets say youâre trying to open a jar of pickles (those big fat dill ones that arenât sliced just bc theyâre my fav)
⊠and you already know from past experience thereâs no way in hell you can open that jar
âŠyet youâre stubborn about it, really trying, refusing to ask abby like youâve done every other time
⊠you get into it, making little puffing noises, getting flushed from exertion, hurting your hands
âŠabbyâs sitting close by just frowing at your back. she knows youâll keep going until you break the jar or something
⊠so while doing so you donât hear abby come up beside you, looking down at you like đ«„
⊠she just. holds her hand out without a word, letting you decide if you want her help or not (but is it rlly a choice if you canât open it without her)
⊠you let out a quite little sigh before handing her the jar also without a word, not even looking at her
⊠and you definitely donât pout at how quickly and easily she gets it open
⊠like seriously? you were slaving over it for 5 minutes
⊠she offers the jar to you and you take it, turning your back on her and placing it on the counter
⊠she bites the inside of her cheek but says nothing, heading back into the dining room, until a gentle tug on her arm stops her
⊠she turns back around to see you offering her a pickle in your outreached hand, one already shoved in ur mouth, the jar reclosed on the counter (much less tighter then it was before, probably barely closed tbh)
⊠and when she takes your offering she definitely doesnât have to hold back a amused grin at the way you still refuse to look at her, cheeks warming in embarrassment
⊠she takes a bite, making sure it makes a obnoxious loud crunch sound, and then quickly leans down to kiss your cheek with pickle juice wet lips
⊠âabs, thatâs grossâŠâ you whine lowly, dragging out the s, pouting up at her while wiping your cheek with the hem of your shirt
⊠âaww, sorry babyâ she mocks your pout and whiney voice back to you, using her own hand to rub ur cheek with a playful eyeroll
⊠you take a bite and quickly place your own pickle scented kiss on her chin before ducking under her arm and scurrying away with a giggle
âŠabby chuckles to herself and follows after you <3
#àłbunsdreams#idk what possessed me to write this bc i havenât had a pickle in like. a year#point is abby is opening all my jars#that is something i actually struggle with itâs hard for us out here âŠ#tlou abby anderson#abby anderson x reader#abby anderson imagine#abby anderson x you#abby anderson drabble
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Kiss Me ? . CC
pairings: caitlin clark x reader
synopsis: caitlin should be focusing on practice, but she finds it incredibly hard to take her focus off of you
âplease baby can we just go home?â caitlin groaned from the gymnasium floor, the ball that was once in her hands now bouncing carelessly on the ground.
you rolled your eyes with a brief chuckle, moving your eyes from your phone to look at her pleading expression. you adjusted yourself in your seat as you watched her drag over to your spot on the sidelines.
caitlin had been in and out of the gym, going to practices and running drills nonstop recently, and it was starting to drive her crazy. she loved basketball and she felt more than comfortable when she was playing, but damn did she miss you even more. the longer she spent at the gym was more time spent away from you, and lately it was taking a toll on her. most days she just wanted to stay in bed with you and never leave. and even though you would absolutely love that, youâd feel guilty if you were the reason she wasnât sticking to her schedule.
you tried to be a supportive and motivating girlfriend by doing everything you could. you'd do homework on the bleachers and come to practice with her to keep her company, packing her a small lunch and making sure her water bottle was filled. and, on days you couldn't attend, you'd write her a small note and put it in her duffle bag for a small pick-me-up.
but unlike you had hoped, your company had only made it more difficult for her to stay focused. caitlin found every excuse in the book to wander over in your direction. sometimes it was to tell you joke, other times she claimed she wanted to help you with homework, and most of the time it was just to touch you in some sort of way. kiss your cheek, rest her head on your shoulder, rub her hand along your thigh...any sort of touch, you name it and she'd abandon her drills just to do it.
"cait, we've only been here for like 20 minutes" you chuckled when she sat down in front of you, her head lolling back to rest in your lap "you need to practice"
"but i miss you" she whined with a pout "i'll practice tomorrow"
"yea you said that yesterday. and the day before that...and the day before that..." you teased as your hands instinctively came up to play with her hair, fingers toying with her head band and ponytail. she laughed at that, shaking her head although she knew it was true. you were her weak spot, that was clear "come on babe, just a little while longer and we can go home. what can i do to motivate you?"
"i dunno" she shrugged as she sat up, pulling up her socks and hoisting herself up. she pondered for a moment, eyes traveling across the room in deep thought before her face lit up excitedly "oh, i think i have an idea"
"hm?" you questioned, expecting her to ask you to run drills or pass her the balls to shoot.
"kiss me" she said, hands on her hips proudly, sly smirk tugging at her lips.
"kiss you?" your eyebrow quirked up, letting her know that you were beyond confused "how's that gonna get you to focus on practicing?"
"okay okay hear me out-" she defended, but you were still skeptical. hearing her out probably didn't entail anything good, you thought.
"alright, i'm listening" you egged her on "let's hear this idea of yours"
"so i'm thinking," the smile on her lips now even bigger "that every time i make a shot...you reward me by kissing me! it's a win-win, really, you know cause i get a kiss for doing a good job, and you get to kiss a basketball superstar"
that earned a dramatic eyeroll from you, although you couldn't suppress the lovesick grin that formed as well. she was quite creative, you knew, but you hadn't expected this sort of ploy from her. through an infectious fit of laughter, you saw her waiting for a genuine response with the repetitive tapping of her foot on the varnished floor. as corny as it was, you couldn't help but give into her plan.
"okay fine, you dork" you sighed playfully as you stood up, walking over to her "but only if you make it, no distractions"
"yes ma'am" she saluted, rushing over to her discarded ball to get started as quick as possible.
and so it started, a pattern consisting of deep kisses and effortless three pointers. you'd watch her take her position at the curved line, knees and elbows bending ever so slightly before she shot the ball straight through the net, she was flying through each shot with ease. then, after retrieving the ball, she'd jog over to you giddily, lips puckering as she waited for her promised kiss. and each time you'd smile as your arms looped around her neck and your lips pressed into hers. that feeling would never get old.
time seemed to fly by as you two continued your little routine, 20 minutes soon turned into 40 and then into over an hour. it felt as though you could have done this all day long, missing the feeling of her lips every time she ran back to the three-point line. and maybe you could have, but cailtin began to get tired, her shots getting sloppier with each passing minute. you knew that the both of you were ready to head home and get some much-needed rest.
caitlin slumped down into a seat, wiping her forehead with her exceptionally sweaty gatorade towel before pulling a spare hoodie over her head. meanwhile you helped her collect her things to make it a little easier for her. with a comforting hand on the small of her back, you guided her out of the gymnasium and made your seemingly long trek out to the car.
you got behind the wheel with an exhausted slump, caitlin already buckling herself up in the passenger's seat. you turned on the a.c. to a medium setting, just the way cailtin liked it, and turned the radio to her favorite station. she hummed, heart swelling as the fact that you knew her so well. the cold air emitting from the vents soothed her almost instantly, causing her to flutter eyes shut in content.
"babe?" you called out to an oddly quiet car, normally she was a chatter box after practice, never letting you get a moment of silence. you never complained, you loved everything she had to say "baby?"
still there was no response, only the soft buzz of a taylor swift song in the background. you shifted your eyes off the road for a quick second to look to your right to inspect the situation. you could have sworn your heart exploded in that moment, seeing her sleepy state in her seat. she had sunk deep into the leather fabric, one arm propped on the center console to hold up her head. her lips were parted ever so slightly as soft breathes escaped her, one of her hoodie strings caught between her teeth. she was completely knocked out. if your hands weren't steering, you would have taken a picture. she looked so soft and sweet, the perfect depiction of your girl.
in the public eye, she was most known to be strong and resilient no matter what was thrown at her. and it was more than true, caitlin was the toughest person you knew. but what most people didn't get to see, was this side of her, gentle caitlin who let her guard down. the caitlin who snores and drools when she sleeps, the cailtin that would turn down practice just to be with you.
the cailtin that can't help but smile when you reach over, eyes still closed as you run your thumb across her cheekbone, wanting the feeling of your touch to last forever.
#caitlin clark#caitlin clark x reader#wcbb x reader#wcbb#iowa wbb#wnba#wnba x reader#indiana fever#womens basketball#wlw#lesbian#wlw imagine#lesbian imagine#foreingersgod
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Act my age
ham, steak, salami + veggies with white bread pleasee thank you đ
Lewis Hamilton x gf!reader
The age gap between you and Lewis was a topic that the F1 media couldnât seem to get over, even though youâd been together for two years. The 15-year difference was all they talked about, but you tried to brush off the chatter.
As an associate attorney practicing corporate law in Monaco, you felt you had the "maturity" box checked for dating Lewis by media standards. Still, recently the constant expectation to act âolderâ started to weigh on you. You were 25, and sometimes you just wanted to be youâwithout the shadow of âyounger girlfriendâ following your every move.
Feeling stressed, you called your friends and planned a night out. Lewis kissed you goodbye with a smile, promising to pick you up if needed and reminding you to stay out of trouble. A few hours and several drinks later, you found yourself on the dance floor, lost in the music. Taking a break, you stared at yourself in the restroom mirror for a little too long, realizing it was probably time to call Lewis.
âLewis!â you chimed when he answered.
âHi, sweetheart. Ready to come home?â he asked, amused.
âYes, please,â you slurred. âCan we get Taco Bell?â
âThatâs terrible for you.â
âOh, live a little!â you teased, sensing his playful eyeroll over the phone. True to his word, he arrived in minutes. As you slid into the car, you leaned over to give him a soft kiss.
âHi,â you whispered, and he gently brushed his thumb over your cheek.
âHi, I missed you,â he murmured, making you giggle.
âIt was only a couple of hours,â you reminded him.
âStill too long,â he replied with a smile.
âYeah, it was good to relieve some stress.âÂ
The look Lewis gave you after you said that made you smirk, knowing he had another way to relax once you got home.
------------------------------------------------
The Friday before the Mexico GP, you were in the McLaren garage with Lando while Pato took the wheel for FP1. Lando was one of your closest friends in the paddock, and with you both living in Monaco and being around the same age, you bonded quickly. Caught up in a playful 1v1 soccer match, you giggled as you nutmegged Lando, who tackled you in a dramatic attempt to stop you.
You landed awkwardly, wincing as you hit the ground, and Lando immediately looked worried.
âShit, Y/N, are you okay?â he asked, glancing around nervously. âLewis is going to kill me.â
Crossing your arms, you raised an eyebrow. âAre you more worried about Lewis than me?â
âUh, yes,â he admitted without hesitation, making you laugh.
Later, back in the Mercedes garage, you waited for Lewis to finish his interviews. As notifications began flooding your phone, you noticed youâd been tagged in a video from one of Lewisâs interviews:
Reporter: âSo, Lewis, nice to see Y/N out here supporting you this weekend. Interesting video of her and Lando Norris playing football.â
Lewis: âYeah,â he chuckled, âitâs like Iâm babysitting a kid sometimes.â
Embarrassment hit you like a wave, and before you knew it, you had quietly excused yourself and called for a ride back to the hotel.
Back in the hotel room, you tried to calm yourself down in the shower, but when you stepped out, you found Lewis waiting, worried as he noticed your puffy eyes.
âSweetheart, whatâs wrong?â he asked gently.
âJust thought you could use a break from babysitting,â you replied sharply.
He flinched, realizing the hurt his words had caused. âI didnât mean it that way, Y/N,â he tried, but you shook your head.
âHow else could you have meant it?â you asked, folding your arms defensively.
He sighed. âI just see Lando as... still a kid. And when youâre with him, it makes you look that way too.â
âYou do know Lando and I are the same age, right?â you countered. âIf you didnât want to âbabysit,â maybe you shouldâve dated someone your own age.â
âDonât say that,â he said, pulling you into his arms. Tears slid down your cheeks as he held you tightly. âYouâre the only one I want to come home to. Always.â
Exhausted, you nodded, letting the conversation drop as you both went to bed.
The next day, you still felt out of sorts but kept quiet to avoid distracting Lewis before qualifying. As he was stopped for a quick Sky Sports interview, you hung back with Lando, who shot you a sympathetic look.
âRough night?â he asked gently, and you nodded.
âThis isnât your fault, Lando,â you assured him. âHe shouldnât have said it.â
Landoâs expression shifted, and following his gaze, you saw Lewis speaking with the interviewer, his hand resting on her lower back as he laughed at something she said. A wave of anger and hurt rushed over you.
âY/NâŠâ Lando started, but you brushed him off.
âIâm leaving.â
Storming out of the paddock you were pissed. You knew Lewis would think nothing of it and expect you not to either and to âtake the high road.â But you were so fucking over that. Mixed with yesterdayâs emotions you were feeling slightly crazy and you werenât going to contain it.Â
Calling Lewisâs assistant, you made her book you a flight home immediately and went to the hotel to get your stuff. By the time you reached there, you had seen countless pictures of Lewis and the reporter cozy together, so naturally, why not print them off for him to frame? You were a woman on a mission in the hotel business room printing these pictures. Spreading them out on your bed, you snapped a pic to send to your sister, who called you insane and then left.
Instead of Monaco, you took a shorter flight to New York, where Lewis kept a penthouse. You settled in, ordered takeout, and watched the race on Sunday from the penthouse, glad to see him finish P4 but still seething.
You werenât expecting to see Lewis until tomorrow, so you went to bed around 11, only to be jolted awake at 1am by someone pounding on the door.
"Just let me in," you heard Lewis call out.
Groggy, you opened it to find him standing there, exhausted, dressed in a Mercedes hoodie and sweats.
He dropped his bags on the living room couch and crossed his arms, facing you. âNice touch with the photos,â he said, his voice steady.
âI thought they were fitting,â you shot back, arms crossed.
Lewis sighed. âYou know that wasnât anything. She isnât you.â
âWho cares that I know that?â You yelled. âYou are mine! Not hers! And you know what I wanted to do? I wanted to march over there and rip her off you by her hair.âÂ
Lewisâ eyes widened but you kept going.Â
âIâm done pretending that Iâm too secure with myself to care about this shit because, guess what? I do fucking care! I do care when girls throw themselves at you all the time. So yeah, I printed off those pictures for you, and yeah, I knew that was crazy, but if thatâs what I have to do to get an emotional reaction out of you, then Iâll do it every time.âÂ
After your outburst, the room felt charged with a heavy, vulnerable silence. Lewis looked at you, his face softened by something between understanding and regret. He took a deep breath, then stepped forward, gently wrapping his arms around you. You could feel the warmth of his embrace as he held you close, grounding you.
âY/N,â he murmured into your hair, his voice low and tender, âIâm so sorry. I never, ever want you to feel like you canât be yourself with me. I love youâexactly as you are. I didnât realize how much pressure youâve felt to fit into⊠some idea of what everyone else thinks you should be. I donât want that for us.â
You looked up at him, eyes still glassy but softening as his words sank in. âSometimes I feel like I have to prove Iâm âmature enoughâ to be with you,â you admitted quietly. âLike I have to be some version of me that fits everyone elseâs expectations.â
He sighed, holding you even tighter. âY/N, youâre perfect just as you are. I love you, not some âidealâ of you. I love the person whoâs goofy, carefree, strong⊠the person who prints off photos just to make a point,â he chuckled, squeezing your hand. âYou donât have to change or hold anything back for me.â
A small, relieved smile crept onto your face, and you let yourself melt into his embrace. âThank you,â you whispered. âI just needed to hear that.â
He nodded, brushing a tear from your cheek with his thumb. âI want you to feel free to be yourself with me. Iâm here because I want all of you, Y/Nâall the real, unfiltered parts of you.â
You closed your eyes, taking in his words, letting them wrap around you like a promise. Finally, you looked up at him with a new lightness, feeling the tension in your chest ease.
âAlright,â you said softly, a hint of playfulness returning to your tone. âThen get ready, because the real me definitely wants Taco Bell at 2 a.m.â
Lewis chuckled, shaking his head with a fond smile. âFine. But weâre getting fries, too.â
With your hand in his, you both headed out the door, leaving behind the weight of everyone elseâs expectations. It was just you and Lewisâreal, imperfect, and perfect for each other.
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hii looooved the mattheo riddle fic any chance u cld plsssss do more bc iâm obsessed. like mattheo riddle x harryâs twin sister or smth would EAT
All His
A/N: Hi anon! Thank you so much for reading and liking my mattheo fic <3 thank you so much for this request, i hope you liked it <3
I used some promts for this writing, one was from @thepromptswhisperer 's "you're blushing" promts and the others were from @stormyskies-writes 's spicy romance promts. These really helped me with the banter for this story and these two have really good prompts if yall might need/want some prompts for your own stories <3
Also, i'm sorry Mattheo isn't as soft in this one, i tried something different and i hope you like it. I will probably write more of soft!matty because he is a cutie.
Also, also, I'm sorry for any mistakes i might have made, I usually come back to my stories a couple of days later with fresh eyes hihi <3
Also request something if you want to!
Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Potter!reader
Themes/warnings: Cursing, slight suggestive, slight enemies to lovers but not really, bickering, so much bickering, McLaggen (he's a warning in himself really)
Word count: 4000 - ish
Please do not copy or translate my work!
It has been about a month since the school year started at Hogwarts. It was colder, leaves changing colour for green to yellow to orange. The familiar cold breeze sweeping through the castle, signalling that autumn really was here. Thankfully there were fires scattered around the castle to keep its inhabitants warm. You were sitting by one of these fires in the library. Its flames effectively warming you from the cold that was seeping through the stonewalls. You were working on an essay for your defence against the dark arts class. It was about sirens. You found the subject intriguing, aquatic life had always interested you, but you couldnât for the life of you concentrate on your work. Your brother and his friend had joined you and Hermione but instead of studying they were glaring and huffing at a table all the way across the library. The table in question were occupied by a group of Slytherin boys notorious for picking fights with Harry and Ron. At what seemed like their hundred huff you lost your calm, feeling extremely annoyed by their disruptions.
âReally, boys just study instead of making googly eyes at the Slytherins.â You said with an eyeroll. âOr at least shut up.â You snapped. Harry rolled his eyes at your attitude, he was quite used to your attitude, having the privilege to grow up with it since he was your twin.
âWe werenât-â Ron started to defend himself, but you interrupted.
âI must admit, Mattheo is quite cute under all that annoying personality,â You sighed as you cast a glance at the brunette that was chatting casually to his friends, he was a picture of relaxed arrogance as he leaned back in his chair, arms behind his head, âbut I didnât think he was your type.â Harry made a face of disgust at your admission which you replied with a glare.
âY/n, you canât be serious? Riddle?â Harry said with that disgust distinguishable in his voice.
âI didnât say I wanted his babies now did I, Harry?â You rolled your eyes at your brother.
âI donât care who wants whose babies, just shut up.â Hermione hissed annoyed before she turned back to her own essay. You and Harry sent glares at each other, those types of glares only siblings seemed to be able to muster. Turning back to your essay you read through it. You noticed that you could add some facts to the last part of your text. To do that you needed a new book: An advanced guide to aquatic dangers. With a sigh you rose from your, the wooden chair creaking at your movement.
âOi, where are you going?â Ron asked, accusingly, almost like he thought you were going over to the Slytherins. He eyed you suspiciously, making you roll your eyes for the umpteenth time.
âRelax Ron, Iâm just going to get another book.â You said with a tired voice. You walked slowly through the old library, wooden floorboards creaking under your shoes as you browsed the shelves that held the books on water-beings. There was an unbelievable number of books on the subject, but you needed just one. Searching what you thought was your 50th bookshelf you finally found the book you were looking for. It was in a hidden corner near the table of boys your brother and friend had glared at moments earlier. As you reached for it you noticed that it was placed higher than you thought. You tried to reach it a couple of times to no avail. As you let out a groan of frustration a hand shot out from behind you, easily grabbing it. Another hand was braced on the shelf in front of you. It was adorned by two silver rings, one on the index with a serpent on it, and the other was a signet ring on the pinkie with the initials M.R. You swallowed quickly before turning around, coming face to, well, chest with the Slytherin you just referred to as âcuteâ. He still had the book in his hand, a smirk on his face and he leaned into the hand on the shelf, effectively invading you personal space even more. His presence wrapping around you like a warm blanket shielding you from the coldness of the castle.
âReading up on your ancestry, Potter?â He asked with a smirk as he gestured to the sketched siren on the cover of the book. You narrowed your eyes at him confused, did he just complement you or insult you?
âAre you insulting me or complementing me, Riddle?â You couldnât help but ask, your eyes still scanning him suspiciously.
âIsnât that the same thing for you?â He answered, a cheeky grin on his face, âHateful comments seem to be the way to your heart, Potter.â You sighed and rolled your eyes at the boy, was he always this annoying? You couldnât believe youâd just called him cute. You wished you could take it back. Mattheo was quite the flirt with the girls of the school, but his latest target seemed to be you. It didnât seem like it mattered what you threw back at him, he would always turn it into some weird way of flirting.
âThinking of how much you want kiss me, Potter?â He interrupted your train of thought with a smirk, leaning in closer into your space, you could smell him now, he smelled good rich, but you would never admit that out loud.
âIn your dreams, Riddle.â You huffed in feign annoyance, you would never admit it, but you quite enjoyed the back and forth between the two of you. If he wasnât known for being a ladies man you mightâve considered going out with him, regardless of what your brother thought of him. It wasnât a secret that Harry and Mattheo didnât like each other. This was also a reason why you couldnât figure out for the life of you why he had set his sights on you.
âOh, trust me darling, in my dreams we do way more that just kiss.â He said while wiggling his eyebrows at you with a suggestive grin. You felt a blush rise to your cheeks in embarrassment from his insinuation.
âYouâre blushing.â He said as he poked your cheek with a chuckle.
âYeah, so? Never seen anyone fall for your charm before?â You asked sarcastically, rolling your eyes for good measure. He chuckled at that and handed you the book he was still holding.
âAlways a pleasure, Potter.â He said, finally stepping away from you, cold air engulfed you when he pulled away, his hand falling to his side.
âI wish I could say the same, but I donât think youâre capable of making a woman feel pleasure.â You said, you gave the boy a wink before turning on your heel, walking back to your table. You could feel your heart calming down as you neared your table as you weaved in and out of shelves on your way back. Sitting down on the uncomfortable wooden chair you gently placed the book on the table.
âWhat the hell took you so long?â Harry asked, curiosity getting the better of him.
âThe book was just hard to find.â You said swiftly, you dared to cast a quick glance at the table across the library. He was already staring at you, his gaze was tracing your form, something alike hunger behind his eyes. You quickly looked away, not wanting to be caught staring by Harry or Ron. The rest of the evening you glanced over at him now and then. He was already looking at you every time. The look on his face unreadable but his eyes still had that hungry look. As the autumn weather really made its home on the grounds the lessons progressed. You had scored an âoutstandingâ on your essay by Professor Snape. You were thinking about it late one evening around two weeks after your study session in the library.
You couldnât sleep, which is how you ended up in the kitchens, a mug of warm milk in your hands. You were glad that it was a weekend, meaning that you didnât have to be up early for classes. Your mind drifted from your grade on your essay to the boy who had helped you reach the book which had helped you. He continued to shamelessly flirt with you, ignoring your brothers warnings to stay away from you. You had to admit, his flirting was charming, in its own way. You had no idea how he pulled off half the stunts he did, like how he managed to get your favourite flowers on your bedside table. First of all, how did he know which flowers were your favourite? Second of all, how did he get them into your dorm? Or all the times you would find your favourite candy in your pockets or bag with a small note with his initials. You would lie if you said it didnât work on you though. The banter whenever you would talk in combination with these sweet gestures really was the way to your heart and you had no idea how he had figured it out. When you had finished your milk, you thanked the houselves and started to make your way up the stairs that led from the kitchen corridor. Rounding a corner you slammed into a chest. Panicking, thinking it was a teacher, you started to utter out apologies and excuses as to why you were out of bed.
âShut up, Potter or we will be caught!â A voice you so clearly recognised whisper shouted. Looking up you saw none other than Mattheo Riddle, the boy who was occupying your mind more often than not nowadays. Before you could retort you heard footsteps echo through the hall, nearing where the two of you were.
âShit.â You whispered in unison. Realising where in the castle you were you grabbed Mattheo by the collar and dragged him in to a broom closet that was hidden right by the entrance to the stairs that led to the kitchens. The closet was small, the space felt cramped as you were standing chest to chest with Mattheo, your hands still gripping his collar. You stared up at Mattheo, eyes wide in fear of getting caught out of bed. Seeing your fear, he placed a hand on your cheek, rubbing your cheekbone slightly, in an attempt to comfort you. It did the exact opposite. Your heart was racing, not from the fear of getting caught, but from the way he was touching you. His hand was warm, his palm rough from quidditch but his touch gentle. You looked at him, really looked at him, his brown eyes soft, his curls sightly messy. You couldnât help yourself as you shamelessly checked him out. He was looking at you now and it felt like the room got even smaller as a small smirk made its way onto his lips. You were so close, his body pressing against yours, his warmth surrounding you like a blanket. You were so close that your faces were centimetres apart.
âYou like what you see?â He whispered, his breath hitting your face. Your brain couldnât process what was happening right now. He let out a quiet, breathy laugh at your inability to answer him. When he quieted the tension flooded right back. His eyes traced your face, flickering to your lips for a split second before finding your wide eyes again.
âIs it weird that I really want to kiss you right now?â He murmured as his eyes found your lips again for a split second. Your mind went completely blank. All you knew is that you wanted him, needed him to kiss you.
âBut I wonât, not until you ask me to.â He smirked before quietly opening the door to the closet. No footsteps could be heard. Cold air welled in, effectively breaking the trance he had you in. You frowned at him. He slipped out of the closet, and you sneaked out after him. You felt anger rise in you chest as you watched the back of his curly mop of hair descend the stone stairs to the kitchens.
âFuck you, Mattheo.â You whisper shouted. You heard a chuckle from the stairs.
âFuck me yourself, you coward.â He whispered back making you gape in the general direction of his voice in disbelief. You huffed in annoyance before turning around, sneaking your way back to your common room. The whole way back you thought about how soft his lips had looked and how angry you were with yourself for falling for his charms so easily. After this incident something shifted between you. The usual banter was mixed with something more, a longing, from the both of you. Insults was mixed with tones of want. He would also find ways to touch you more often after the incident in the broom closet. One thing you noticed in the middle of December was that he had not so much as looked at another girl while he was flirting with you. Hermione was even pointing it out. Saying that a few girls had tried to get with him but that he had ignored them completely. It was a beautiful snowy but cold day, and you had just been invited to Slughornâs Christmas party, along with your brother and Hermione. You noticed that the grounds were covered in glittering white snow as you and Hermione were discussing who to go with on your way to ancient runes. You walked past Mattheo; him and his friends were also part of the so-called Slug club. You watched him as he laughed at something that his friend Theodore said. He really was gorgeous.
âI am going with Terry Boot, as friends, you should go with Harry, Hermione.â You said to Hermione when you had passed the boys.
âOh, why didnât I think of that?â She let out as she slapped her forehead in annoyance with herself.
âAre you going with someone else?â You asked amusedly. Hermione reddened, clearly embarrassed with her choice of date.
âWell, I was thinking about who would piss of Ron the most so I kind of asked Cormac.â She said as you let out a laugh. Hermione and Ron were having a rough time with each other at the moment, mostly because Ron was acting like an ass. She slapped your arm in annoyance.
âItâs not funny!â She said with a frown.
âIt kind of is, Hermione.â You said, still chuckling.
âWell, Iâm surprised that you didnât go with Riddle.â She retorted.
âWhy?â You furrowed your eyebrows.
âBecause itâs obvious that you like each other.â She shrugged her shoulders as you walked into the classroom and sat down in your seat.
âWe do not!â You said incredulously. She gave you a look of disbelief before bringing out her book and some parchment to write notes. Through the lesson Mattheo occupied your mind like he usually did nowadays. He was attractive, and sweet and he seemed to have changed his ways with girls. You were occupied by these thoughts even when you walked through the castle corridors to the great hall with Hermione after the lesson had finished. She was going on about how interesting the lesson was with you barley listening. When you were in the entrance hall you bumped your shoulder into someone and just as you were about to apologise you saw that it was none other than the boy who were occupying your mind.
âStop daydreaming about me and watch where youâre going, love.â He said with a cheeky wink. Snapping out of your dazed state you narrowed your eyes at him, but not as sharply as you usually did.
âPlease, any dream involving you would be a nightmare.â You rolled your eyes; you heard a chuckle from Mattheoâs friend Theodore. Mattheo sent a glare at his friend before turning back to you, that made you smile slightly.
âI heard you were going to Slughornâs party with Terry Boot.â He stated casually. You eyed him suspiciously.
âWhy? You jealous, Riddle?â You taunted him with a smirk on your face. He scoffed.
âOf him having to hold your sweaty hand? No, I think Iâm fine.â He stated nonchalantly, you rolled your eyes at him.
âOh, shut up.â You said, annoyance in your voice.
âYou shut up.â He said back, getting closer to your face.
âMake me.â You retorted, staring him directly in his eyes.
âOkay, but you might moan a little.â He said with a shrug of his shoulders as he backed off slightly. You gaped at him. The audacity. His friends chuckled and he gave you a cheeky grin before casually sauntering off with his friends.
âYou were saying something about not liking each other?â Hermione said, effectively rubbing salt in your wounds.
âNot a word.â You said grumpily as you made your way to the great hall in silence. The evening of the party arrived sooner than you thought. You were walking arm in arm with Terry. You wore a nice dress for the occasion, one that was accentuating your curves. Terry looked nice too in a suit and bowtie. When you entered the party, it was in full swing, people mingling and eating the finger food that was offered. You and Terry took the drink that was offered upon your arrival and went around and mingled with people. You looked around the beautifully decorated room, it was perfectly decorated for Christmas. Your eyes landed on a group of guys, Mattheo and his friends. You noticed that he didnât seem to have a date. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. You were sure he would bring someone. Your eyes drifted to Cormac, alone, seeming to look for someone. You excused yourself to Terry. He let you go without any hesitation, continuing to talk with some other Ravenclaw boy. You looked around and saw two familiar silhouettes behind a sheer curtain. When you walked over you found Hermione hiding there with Harry, panic evident in his eyes.
âWhatâs going on?â You asked your brother as you saw Hermione stuffing her mouth with the dragon ball tarte. You scrunched your nose at this, since it was notorious to make your breath stink.
âHermione is trying to ward of McLaggen.â Harry said with a laugh at the girl who was clearly suffering. You gave the girl a look of sympathy.
âOh, here he comes.â Hermione said, panic in her voice, as she quickly escaped out the other side of the curtain, Harry hot on her heels. Leaving you alone to fend of the sleazy boy.
âWhere did she go?â Cormac asked.
âTo the ladies room.â You swiftly lied. You gave him a small, polite smile before you tried to pass him to rejoin the party. He stopped you by grabbing your upper arm rather harshly.
âWell, she is a real minx, your friend. But seeing as weâre here, alone, we might as well.â He said, a greasy smile on his face. You frowned at him, but you were gagging on the inside. You tried to yank your arm free from his grip, but he didnât let go. You were about to tell him to let you go when someone else got before you.
âGet your hands off her.â A cold voice came from behind Cormac. You looked over his shoulder and you saw none other than Mattheo Riddle standing there, face stoic apart from the muscle that was popping from his jaw. He looked deadly. Cormacâs grip faltered but he didnât let go.
âLook man-â He started, but Mattheo didnât let him finish.
âThere is nothing you could say that wonât make me break your face if you donât get your slimy hand off of her in the next 2 seconds.â Mattheo got out through gritted teeth. Seeing Mattheo so angry made you feel some type of way. Cormac let you go slowly, his face pale as he excused himself. He knew better than to mess with the beater of the Slytherin team. The boy notorious for fighting anyone who pissed him off without a second thought. Your eyes met Mattheoâs under the low lights as he took slow steps towards you. He was handsome in his suit, the top buttons of his dress shirt unbuttoned. His face was still cold as he stopped in front of you. His hand moved to gently touch your arm, where Cormac had gripped it rather harshly. His rings were cool against your hot skin, sending shivers down your spine. The way he was looking at you made you feel hot. He closed his eyes as he forced a breath through his nose.
âAre you okay?â You asked him in a low voice. His eyes shot open as he studied your face.
âI should be the one asking that, but Iâm fine.â He let out tensely. You narrowed your eyes at him.
âYouâre not.â You stated as a matter of fact.
âI am.â He was still sounding extremely tense.
âThatâs not the truth, tell me the truth Mattheo. What were you jealous?â You threw the words out, but when you said them, it dawned on you. Could he have been jealous? His eyes narrowed this time.
âI was not, I just donât like slimy guys.â He muttered irritably he looked like he would snap any second now.
âYouâre such an asshole. If you werenât jealous, why would you threaten Corm-â
âOkay, fine! I was jealous. I was so jealous that I could rip his throat out for just talking to you, let alone touching you. I was jealous when I saw you walking in with Bootâ he spat his name, âbecause he had the most beautiful girl Iâve ever seen as his dateâ he gestured to you, âI was jealous because whatever I do, I will never be that guy to you. I shouldnât be jealous, because you arenât even mine, yet here I am.â He was breathing heavily after he was done with his rant. You were smiling shyly up at him as you took a couple of steps closer to him, invading his personal space. Your hands found the planes of his stomach before they travelled slowly up his chest and around his neck. He let out a low groan at your actions.
âKiss me, asshole.â You whispered; he closed his eyes at your words. Your mind was immediately brought back to the almost kiss in the broom closet and how sure of himself he sounded when he had said that he wouldnât kiss you unless you asked.
âThe problem is, if I kissed you, I don't think I'd be able to stop.â He murmured back his hands finding your hips, gripping them tightly.
âMaybe I donât want you to.â You replied simply and it was like all restraint he had in him flew out the window. He smashed his lips to yours. The kiss was desperate, lips and teeth clashing, his tongue fighting with yours as his hands moved from your hips to your waist, giving it a squeeze. Yours found his hair, pulling on the strands on the back of his neck. Eliciting a moan from him. The kiss was far from sweet, but you didnât want it any other way. It felt like months of feelings and want was poured into the kiss. It was as if he kissed you hard enough you would understand his feelings for you. You kissed him back with just as much fervour, as if you too were trying to convey your feelings through the kiss.
âMy eyes!â You heard a shriek from behind you. You and Mattheo broke apart, startled from the sound. Turning around you saw Harry and Hermione standing there. Harry had the most disgusted expression you had ever seen, and Hermione looked awfully smug.
âReally y/n? Riddle?â Harry said in an annoyed voice to which you rolled your eyes.
âShut up Harry, go away.â You said, annoyance in your own voice, Hermione didnât say anything as she slowly pulled Harry away, but she still had that smug smile on her face. You turned back to Mattheo, who had your lipstick all over his lips, and he was looking at you with a look youâve never seen before. His eyes were soft, tender, a small smirk was on his lips. The look made you feel weak in the knees. With your heart hammering you snaked your arms around his neck again.
âYou can be as jealous as you want, asshole, because Iâm yours.â You whispered, your eyes finding his. His smile widened as he took one of your hands of his neck and took it in his. He took off his signet ring, where his initials were carved, and put it on your index finger.
âThere, all mine.â He said softly before kissing you again, softer this time. His lips were gentle against yours, his hands tracing your back as yours raked through his hair.
âAll yours.â You murmured against his lips, to which he groaned.
âI could listen to you saying that all night.â He said, his voice sounding strained, and he parted from you a little, needing to collect himself. You were still at Slughornâs party after all.
âIf you play your cards right maybe you will.â You said seductively as you pulled him back to you by his belt. He groaned, which he covered up by coughing when a teacher walked by on the other side of the curtain. You giggled at this.
âWell, handsome, Iâm going to rejoin my date for the party.â You said, a teasing smile on your face. He looked at you bewildered.
âI might be yours now, but I wasnât when I agreed to be Terryâs date for tonight.â You said a teasing note in your voice.
âIâll see you tonight.â You whispered into his ear before placing a kiss to his cheek and slipping out the curtain. It would be a long night.
#fan fiction#harry potter#x reader#slytherin boys#mattheo riddle#mattheo riddle x reader#mattheo riddle x you#mattheo riddle x potter!reader#mattheo riddle fanfic#potter!reader
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Mac N' Cheese
summary: waking up in the middle of the night with pregnancy cravings
pairing: carmen berzatto x pregnant!reader
wordcount: 526
warnings: language, smoking
a/n: first carmy fic! let me know what you think + join my celebration!
-----
Gooey gooey pull apart cheese⊠crispy bread crumbs sprinkled in⊠perfectly boiled pasta.
If you didnât get your hands on the mac and cheese from that place on Second Street right this second-
You had just fallen asleep when you started salivating- frothing at the mouth- for the damn mac and cheese. You toss and turn, even getting up to take a sip or two of water to wash that craving out of your mouth but it doesnât work.
Your phone lights up the dark room as you check the hours for that place. Of course itâs closed, itâs two in the morning. You groan quietly, not wanting to wake your boyfriend.
But itâs so cheesy and messy and-
âWhatâs goinâ on?â He says, startling you.
âN-nothing, go back to sleep.â He groans, sitting up. He rubs his eyes with the backs of his hands.
âIs pumpkin botherinâ you?â
âShe wants the mac and cheese from that place on Second.â He blinks in the darkness.
âItâs probably closed.â
âIt is, I checked.â
â...we can grab some tomorrow.â
âTomorrow?â Your mouth falls into a pout. âYour daughterâs givinâ me heartburn for this damn mac and cheese.â
âPumpkin, quit the heartburn, itâs sleepy time.â He slides back down, resting his head on his pillow again.
The son of a bitch yawns and falls right back asleep. You glare at his slumbering form- must be fuckinâ nice- his breaths evening out into a sweet slumber.
A sigh, more tossing and turning. Carmy wakes up, leaving the bed.
âWhere are you goinâ?â You ask, but he doesnât respond, instead mumbling something incoherent and walking out of the bedroom.
âStay.â
âIâm not a dog-â
âWill you just not argue with me for one night? God, always sayinâ shit. I get all the damn nagginâ from work already. Could make that shit better than that fuckinâ place on Second.â He says, voice fading as he walks to the kitchen. You yell after him, but still you stay put sitting in the bed.
You can almost smell the cheese, imagining floating to the kitchen on the smell like a fucking cartoon. You hear him grumbling about, and a window opens. Heâs been smoking out the window since you got pregnant, trying to limit the amount of second-hand you get exposed to. Youâve been trying to get him to quit, but he cites specifically Richie as his âpulmonary demiseâ.
His footsteps grow closer and closer, and you see his silhouette in the doorway.
âBear special for you and the pumpkin.â He serves it to you all messy and gooey, breadcrumbs sprinkled haphazardly on the top.
âHoly fuck.â You say, snatching the bowl from him and digging in almost immediately. He sighs, clambering back into bed and pulling the covers up and over his head.
âGo to town.â He says, and you can practically hear the eyeroll in his voice.
You destroy it, the cheese pulling apart from the noodles so messy, all golden and crunchy from the breadcrumbs.
Itâs a goddamn masterpiece.
âCarmy, Carmy.â
âHm?â
âDid you have any extra?â He turns over quickly to peek at you.
âYou fuckinâ finished it all already?â
#carmy berzatto#the bear#the bear fic#carmy berzatto fic#carmen berzatto#carmen berzatto fic#carmy berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto x you#carmy berzatto x fem!reader#carmy berzatto x female reader#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto x you#carmen berzatto x female reader#carmen berzatto x fem!reader
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I Made You Breakfast
Kai Parker x Reader
Masterlist - Join My Taglist!
Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)
Fandom: The Vampire Diaries
Summary: Kai's on his apology tour, and Y/N is his next stop after things didn't go too well with Damon or Bonnie
Word Count: 2,000
Category: Fluff, Humor, a little bit of Angst
Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.
I sighed to myself as I headed downstairs in my favorite pair of sweats, mentally making a list of everything I had to do today. It was an unfortunately long list, compounded by the latest supernatural drama, which my friends insisted on dragging me into. Bonnie had finally made it home from the prison world, thankfully, but that didn't mean any of the drama in our lives had gone away. In fact, it had almost doubled, with news of Damon's mother floating around in another prison world somewhere. I got halfway through an eyeroll at the memory of everything going on lately when I stopped dead in my tracks.
I could smell bacon, eggs, and toast wafting up towards me from the kitchen. Someone was here, in my house, cooking breakfast. And with everything going on lately, I knew for a fact it wasn't one of my friends.
I glanced around, grabbing a stake off the nearest end table. No vampire should have been able to get into my house unless they were a friend I'd already let in, but I'd had enough near-death experiences despite that fact that I was constantly prepared.
I crept towards the kitchen, trying to listen for any signs of trap or trouble. All I could hear was a faint clinking of plates. If someone had seriously broken into my house, why the hell were they just hanging out in my kitchen making breakfast?
I got my answer a second later when I burst through the door, going for the element of surprise, and found none other than Kai Parker standing before me.
"Oh, hey!" he said, jumping and spinning to face me with wide eyes. "You're up!"
"...Yup. And... you're here. In my kitchen. Making breakfast."
"Yeah! I hope you like it. Here, let me get your plate. I thought I'd have a few more minutes."
With that, he turned to the stove and starting scooping scrambled eggs and toast onto a plate. I just watched him, not moving an inch.
"Kai?"
"Yeah?"
"What the hell are you doing in my house?"
He turned back around to look at me again, his eyes wide and the plate half-finished in his hand. After a moment, his expression morphed into a sheepish grin. I just blinked at him, my expression unchanging.
"Well, after I merged with Luke, I started getting all these... feelings." He said the word like somebody else might say 'zits' or 'rash'. "And one of those has been guilt, for some of the stuff I put you through. Or I guess, your friends, mostly. I tried apologizing to Bonnie earlier, and... it didn't go well."
His expression darkened, and I frowned. But a moment later, the clouds apparently cleared, and Kai fixed me with a beaming smile again.
"So I thought I'd try again with you. In the Prison World, I saw Damon making Bonnie breakfast all the time, and she seemed to really like that. So I figured you might, too."
I just stared at him for a few long moments without saying anything. I turned my options over and over in my mind, trying to get my still half-asleep brain to make a rational choice. I probably should've been incredibly freaked out that Kai was here at all, but I'd actually had a few positive interactions with him even before the whole merge thing, and had kind of started to like him. Or, at least, started to think he had some ally potential, despite other things he did. We'd even bonded over music taste and his new fascination with social media, and he'd tried to help Sheriff Forbes, although it hadn't necessarily been out of the goodness of his heart. For some reason, I just couldn't muster the fear or anger I probably should've been feeling when I looked at him in my house. Finally, I sighed, my mind made up. No reason to try to force bad feelings when they wouldn't come on their own, right?
"Thanks, Kai," I said, actually meaning it as I moved over to the dining table. "Aside from the fact that you broke into my house to do it... that's actually pretty sweet."
He beamed at me, and I found myself returning his smile. He turned back around to finish making my plate, and I shook my head. This was absolutely ridiculous, but I couldn't say I minded very much.
"Here you go!" he said, setting the plate down in front of me with a big smile. He didn't move away, just standing off to the side and watching me expectantly. I picked up my fork, but didn't take my eyes off Kai.
"...Aren't you gonna join me?"
"Oh! Right. You know, I've been practicing how I was going to do this in my head all morning, and now that I'm actually doing it it's like I completely forgot everything I was planning to do. That's weird, right?"
I shrugged. "I mean, sounds like a normal part of being nervous to me."
He nodded emphatically as he returned to the table and sat across from me with a breakfast plate of his own.
"All these new... emotions from Luke have been, like, super weird. I don't know how you all deal with these all the time."
"Eh, yeah, they can be annoying sometimes. It gets easier with practice though, and I'd say on the whole they're a positive experience."
Kai nodded thoughtfully, taking a bite of his eggs as his gaze wandered around my kitchen. I took a few bites of my own food, and I had to admit, he was a surprisingly good cook.
"So..." I started. "Was this it for the apology? It's a great breakfast, but usually an apology has a little more attached..."
"Oh!" Kai's attention snapped back to me. "No no, this isn't it. I was planning to do the other part of the apology while we ate breakfast."
"Makes sense. Go for it."
He cleared his throat and shifted around in his seat, then met my eyes before hesitating again. I tried to look encouraging as I ate my eggs, and after a moment, he nodded to himself and continued.
"I'm sorry for trying to kill your friend, and testing out my power on her. And that I couldn't save your other friend's mom, even though I really couldn't do anything about that. I still... I still feel bad. And honestly, I'm mostly sorry for everything I've done that hurt you, even if it was indirectly. I... I actually really like you, and so, uh... I don't want you to hate me. I keep getting this stabbing pain in my chest when I think about it... or when I think about that time I saw you crying over Bonnie..."
He trailed off, staring at the table instead of me, apparently lost in thought. After a moment though, he shook his head and cleared his throat, looking back up to meet my stare again. His blue eyes were wider than usual, his eyebrows pulling together, and he looked to be in actual distress for maybe the first time I'd ever seen, at least when his life wasn't being threatened.
"I'm sorry, Y/N. I promise not to do anything to hurt you again. Will you give me a second chance?"
The corner of my mouth quirked up in a smile, especially at the rare senserity in his tone. I knew my friends would have quite a few things to say about this decision, but I didn't let myself think about that. At least not right now.
I sighed. "Kai, despite the fact that you broke into my house, I'm going to believe you about this whole 'turning over new leaf' thing. I... I'd be lying if I said I didn't like you too. So, if you really mean what you're saying about not hurting me or the people I care about anymore?"
He nodded so fast I was actually a little worried about him.
"Completely serious. Cross my heart and hope to die. I'm ready to join the Mystic Falls Scooby Doo team for good."
I smiled, laughing a little and shaking my head.
"Well, okay then. I can't promise anybody else on the team will be quite as easy to convince as me, but... I forgive you, Kai. I'm happy to see you like this. And, by the way, you make some very good eggs and toast."
"Thanks. I had to get good at cooking, you know, alone in the Prison World." A shadow passed over his face again, until I reached across the table and lightly rested my hand on top of his. Then, his face lit up like the sun. "And thanks for giving me a second chance. I promise, you won't regret it."
I wasn't totally sure I believed that, but I decided not to say so. Instead, I smiled and gave his hand a little squeeze before pulling back.
After a moment of silence where I could see Kai vibrating with the desire to say whatever he was holding back, he finally blurted out the other thing he'd apparently been planning to ask me this morning.
"So... I might be a little rusty about how all this works, or if it's changed since the eighties, but... would you want to go out with me sometime? Like on a date?"
I smiled, then buried my face in my hands. My friends would kill me if I said yes to this, but despite myself, I really, really wanted to.
"What's wrong?" Kai asked. I shook my head and looked up at him again.
"Nothing, Kai, I just... ugh, my friends are really not going to like this."
He smiled. "Does that mean you're saying yes?"
I took a deep breath and let it out, then shrugged and matched his smile with one of my own.
"Yeah. Yeah, I think it does. What the hell, right?"
"That's great! I was thinking we could go do karaoke? I've always loved karaoke. I got good at it when I was passing time in the Prison World."
"I have to warn you, I am very much not good at karaoke. But I'll still sing my heart out with you anyway, if you want to go!"
"Perfect! We can go tonight." I laughed, and Kai's expression immediately dropped. "Is that okay? Do you not want to go tonight?"
"No, Kai, I do. It's a little fast, honestly, but I don't mind. Why wait?"
"That's exactly what I was thinking. So... should I pick you up? Around seven? We could get dinner first, and then go."
"I think that sounds like a great plan, Kai," I smiled at him, which he immediately returned. A moment later, though, his hand shot up to clutch at his chest.
"Ugh, what is... what is happening to me? Why does my heart feel like it's about to explode?"
"That's probably excitement, Kai, or butterflies, which are like positive nerves. I'm feeling them too. It's because we're looking forward to going out together tonight."
Kai made a face. "This is what people were talking about when they said they got butterflies? This is terrible." I hid a laugh behind my hand, and Kai's eyes snapped up to mine. "Wait. You said you were feeling it too?"
I nodded, and Kai's expression immediately changed to a wide grin.
"So you're excited, too?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I am."
He nodded, the smile staying on his face as he dug in to his eggs again, glancing at me between almost every bite. I just shook my head, a smile on my own face all the same. This was going to be an adventure, going on a date with Kai Parker, and I knew my friends were going to want to murder me for it. But I couldn't totally bring myself to care.
Despite some pretty rocky history, I had a weirdly good feeling about Kai, from the moment he'd started his apology speech this morning. And so far, I'd never been wrong when I trusted my gut for stuff like this, even when it led me into karaoke. I had a good feeling it was going to be right about Kai Parker, too.
****************
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TVD/TO Taglist: @elenavampire21
#sophie's year of fic#the vampire diaries#kai parker#kai parker x reader#the vampire diaries fanfiction#the vampire diaries imagine#the vampire diaries oneshot#kai parker fanfiction#kai parker imagine#kai parker oneshot#the vampire diaries x reader#tvd#mystic falls#bonnie bennett#tvd fanfiction#tvd oneshot#tvd imagine#malachai parker#malachai parker x reader#damon salvatore
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Happy birthday Dean Winchester! Here's a quick one-shot I whipped up to celebrate.
This also fulfils the 'Plus Size' square of my @spnaubingo 2023 bingo card, even though it's 2024... I'm late, I know, but I still want to do some more of it!
Pairing: Dean Winchester x plus sized!reader
Words: 1.6k
Warnings: Couple of crap comments from a random, some not-great self-esteem and a drunk character, but nothing particularly bad.
Synopsis: A man you're interviewing makes some crap comments about your body, and Dean doesn't help. Can he make it up to you?
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âWhich oneâs the father?â The sleazy guy joked. My stomach dropped.
âExcuse me?!â
âOh, itâs alright love, I know the real fatherâs probably suffering somewhere alone while youâre off gallivanting with your workmates. Iâm surprised he lets you out, really.â
The urge to punch the witness we were interviewing was overwhelming. Rather than ruin the case, I turned on my heel and marched out.
Fuck that guy. Iâm not pregnant and Iâm not screwing either of the Winchesters.
I heard Deanâs FBI agent tone of voice as he started speaking behind me. Great to see they were all just moving on with their lives, I thought sarcastically.
---
đ± Where are you? Weâre going to the next witnessâs house
A text came in from Dean. I read it but didnât reply.
đ± You ok?
I sighed. Finally, he asks.
đ± Fine. Iâll catch up with you later
I replied. He sent me a thumbs up, I rolled my eyes.
I kicked at the ground and started the walk back into town. Sam and Dean would probably try and make me feel better, but I knew that wasnât happening. I looked down at my soft, flabby belly that Iâd tried multiple times to lose.
I walked.
---
I felt a bit absurd, getting tipsy this early. It wasnât that I felt like I had to drink to get over the comment. It was just  that Iâd gotten back to the motel room and was feeling a bit morose, and there was nothing to do. Iâd tapped out of the case and I was bored. I went for another wander and this stupid town had nothing in it but a pub, and so somehow Iâd ended up here, starting drinking a lot earlier than normal.
And now I looked like I was drinking my feelings, when I wasnât.
 Not that there was anyone looking at me anyway.
Well, except in disgust. Who knew how many more people in here thought I was pregnant too. Probably thought I was harming an unborn baby, right now.
Fuck them.
---
âYou know thereâs still a monster on the loose?â Dean said gruffly, a frown on his face. I guess itâd been easy to find me given how few things there were in this town.
âYou struggling without me?â I didnât think I was slurring too much, but his expression did not improve when I started talking.
âHow you going to fight one off like this?â he gestured to me.
âYou think a few drinks are why Iâm fat?â I said sarcastically.
âIâm not calling you fat, Iâm calling you drunk.â
âRight,â I said with an eyeroll.
âCome on, get in the car,â he said, trying to tug my arm.
âFuck off Dean! I can drink if I want to. Thereâs nothing else to do in this shithole, anyway.â
He dropped my arm and stomped off to the bar.
I turned back to my drink. Sam came and sat opposite me. You canât escape the bloody Winchesters.
âHey, you ok?â he asked with his puppy dog eyes.
âIâm fine. I had a free afternoon, I came to get a drink. Is that fucking crime now?â
âI meant about what happened with the guy. You seemed pretty upset.â
âSurprised you could see that, you were both so busy being silent.â
âDidnât you hear Dean?â
âHow could I hear Dean when he wasnât saying anything?â
âNo, he laid right into the guy.â
âYou donât have to lie to make me feel better. I heard Dean get right back into his FBI voice as I walked off.â
âYeah, he was still in character at first, told the guy that he needed to speak respectfully to Agents. And then when the guy was still a douche he got a bit more Dean and threatened to punch his lights out if he didnât shut up about you.â
I laughed into my drink. I was sure Sam was embellishing, there was just no way Dean would care that much about someone being mean to me.
Speak of the devil, Dean appeared again, tumbler of whiskey in one hand and a glass of water in the other. He put the water in front of me.
âThanks, but I donât accept drinks from strangers,â I said sarcastically.
âIâm not having you hung over tomorrow and being a liability to the case, drink the water.â
âI donât remember electing you.â
âJesus, youâre even more belligerent when drunk. Just drink the water and stop moping.â
âIâm not moping!â
âThe guy was an asshole, no one thinks you look pregnant. But you canât just drink yourself blotto and get yourself killed every time someone says something mean to you.â
I stood up, grabbed the glass of water and upended it all over Deanâs face. Then I marched out the door.
The effect was a little ruined by my drunken stagger, though.
---
Sam caught my arm as I got outside. âCome on, Iâll drive you home.â
âI walked myself here, I can walk myself home!â
âIâm pretty sure you were walking in a straight line when you got here though. Come on.â
I let him tug me to the Impala. He mustâve grabbed the keys off Dean before chasing after me.
âHeâs just worried about you,â he said gently as we were exiting the carpark. âDoesnât want you getting hurt.â
âThat does not give him a free pass to behave like that.â
---
Dean stood over me, a glass of water and a couple of painkillers in his hands. âMorning, sunshine. Need some relief?â
I gratefully reached out. Man, I did not normally drink that much.
âWhat time is it?â
 âTime to work the case.â
I groaned, âCanât you do it without me?â
âNo, come on, back on the horse.â
âItâs not the horse thatâs the problem, itâs the dog that bit me.â
âI did tell you to drink water,â he said smugly.
âFuck off!â I threw my pillow at him. He easily deflected but wisely left me alone after that.
I groaned and got off the couch Iâd been sleeping on, slumping to the bathroom. The boys were sitting around the tiny table, already dressed and looking at their laptops.
Sam was gone when I came out, freshly showered, dressed and feeling slightly more human. I looked at Dean with a clear question on my face.
âHeâs gone for coffee, thought you could use some.â
âThanks.â
âI, uh,â Dean continued, more hesitantly, âI owe you an apology.â
I crossed my arms across my chest. An apology from Dean was a rare thing, but I was wary it was going to end up being a backhanded insult instead. I often felt like I needed to protect my heart from being hurt by him.
âI was worried about you getting hurt when I saw you were drunk. But I just tried to solve the problem, I didnât actually talk to you, and I,â he paused, biting his lip, âI shouldnât do that.â
âNice to see Iâm just a problem,â I replied sarcastically. I wasnât sure why he was riling me so much, but I still felt so hurt and angry.
He stood up and came over to me. âYouâre not a problem,â he said quietly, trying to look into my eyes. I ducked my head away from the intensity of his look. âAnd I am sorry that asshat upset you.â
âI didnât get drunk just because some guy called me pregnant, you know.â I could hear how defensive I sounded, despite my best efforts not to.
âItâs a shitty thing he did anyway. Youâre beautiful.â
I laughed mirthlessly.
âDonât do that,â he said quietly. âDonât put yourself down all the time.â
âDean, your idea of beautiful is tall, thin, busty and great hair.â
âThatâs not true.â
âWell, theyâre all thin at least.â
âWho are âtheyâ?â
âThe women you sleep with, the women you hit on.â
âI can think of many women Iâve hit on who arenât âthinâ, it doesnât matter to me.â
âSuuuure,â I said with an eye roll.
âBut I havenât hit on many women lately, been distracted by one in particular.â
âLet me guess, beautiful?â
âAbsolutely.â
âMy point exactly. Itâs ok Dean, you donât have to ma-â Deanâs fingers found my chin, nudging it up so I would like at him.
âYouâre beautiful,â he said, looking deep into my eyes. âIâm sorry I havenât made you feel it.â
I stared at him, mouth agape. Absolutely stunned into silence.
âAnd Iâm sorry again that I was a bit of a dick yesterday.â
His face came even closer, watching my reactions.
âYouâre my weak spot,â he whispered.
âNo, Iâm not.â I put my hands on his chest, âDean, this isnât funny, donât tease me.â
He dropped his hand from my chin, looking hesitant. âSweetheart, Iâm putting my heart on the line here, Iâm not teasing.â
My hands slackened.
He edged a tiny bit forward.
His tongue darted out and back in. I couldnât stop staring at his lips.
Was this even real?
How was this happening?
His hand came up to cup my cheek.
I leant forward.
The world suddenly sped up again. Dean moved in, closing the gap between us and bringing his lips to mine. I lost myself in the tenderness of his touch, the softness of his lips, the  exploration of his tongue and mine.
A sudden noise made us pull apart. Sam was standing in the doorway, cardboard holder with coffees in one hand and the other on his hip.
âIâm happy for you guys and all, but we still have a case to work. You can pick this up later.â
.
.
.
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#my writing#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester x plus size reader#dean winchester x plus size!reader#dean winchester angst#dean winchester birthday#happy birthday dean#deansbirthdaybash#plus size reader#chubby reader#dean winchester x chubby reader#dean x reader#dean x plus size reader#spnaubingo#drunk character#mistaken for pregnant#i write terrible synopses#but it's better than it sounds
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Making up with ID! Leon after an argument? (fluff?)
Of course anon! Thank you for the request, I hope you like it <3 Sorry it took so long to respond I've been busy asf. Anyways this one is pretty short because I didn't really know what to write. CW// Alcoholism, Arguing, Jealousy
Masterlist Here!!
Workaholism
ID!Leon x Reader
You knew what you were getting into when you married Leon Kennedy. Whether it be helping him fight alcohol addiction or cuddling close in the midnight hour. You fell in love with every part of him and adored him for it. But sometimes he would really be a stubborn old pain in the ass. Especially right now.
"Leon I really miss you. I understand you have a really intense job but you don't have to take this mission! The mission was optional yet you took it on anyways. And in December too? I want to spend Christmas with you." You say, pouring your heart out into every word. You two have been at it for over an hour.
But there was no winning with your workahoic husband. He was as stubborn as a bull. And when he wanted things his way he would get it. But you couldn't let him win without putting up a fight, there was always a chance after all. This is for his own good. The hours he put in were unhealthy and you see the tolls it takes on his body.
"Y/n." Leon utters lowly. "I need to do this. Who else will?" He was sitting on the couch manspread; pouring himself a glass of bourbon. You've been helping him fight alcohol for years but here he is drinking right in front of you. He may as well spit on you because of how blatantly disrespectful he's being.
You're standing in front of him arms crossed and hands clenching your biceps. You're at your limit right now, there's only so much you can take. Everything feels hot; your throat, your eyes, and the grip you have on yourself.
"Leon do you not want to be with me? That you'd rather fight bioweapons than spend Christmas with you wife?"
The annoyed groan Leon lets out only makes you feel 100x worse. If this is what he wants then fine. What was the point in even trying anymore? If you two did spend Christmas together it would probably be miserable knowing his attitude.
Walking to the other end of the couch you plop down in defeat. "Forget it." You mutter. "Spending Christmas together would only make us both miserable. Just go do your job, I'll spend Christmas with someone else."
Leon turns to face you, his attention off his drink for once. "Someone else?"
You nod with an eyeroll. "Yeah, I'd rather not spend the holiday alone so I'll spend it with someone else."
"Who?" He mutters darkly.
"Well Chris is taking off so I'll spend time with him and Claire if she's available to-"
The sound of Leon's glass slamming down onto the coffee table makes you halt in your words. Leon was pissed before but now he looks downright enraged.
"No way in fucking hell am I letting my wife spend Christmas with another man." He seethes, now standing over you with either hand by the sides of your head on the couch.
You on the other hand are sitting stark still. Like one move would cause the cobra to strike.
"What else am I supposed to do then?" You say softly. Leon has never been this mad at you before and you were honestly scared.
Leon exhales through his nose slowly and shuts his eyes. "Baby do you know why I've been putting in all the extra hours?" He questions, answering your question with one of his own.
"Because you want to keep the world safe?" You mutter hesitantly. But Leon only chuckles and shakes his head back and forth. He opens his eyes and looks down at you with a crooked smile.
"Yes and no." His hand moves to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. "The world is only worth saving because you're in it. But the reason I work so much is so I can provide for you. Every cent counts because I wanna spoil you baby."
His words make you deflate. All the anger built up over the past hour from arguing has left your body.
"Leon..." You whisper; but his lips kiss yours in a soft, quick, peck and you're immediately silenced again.
"I wanna provide for you sweetness. I hate imagining you cooped up alone in this apartment while I'm out. I wanna see you in a big open kitchen just like you wanted. A living room with a grand fireplace and closet to hold all those sexy clothes I love seeing you doll yourself up in."
He sighs and looks down off to the side. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you before I just... It's embarrassing. Being unable to provide for you."
You frown firmly and hold his face in place causing his blue eyes to widen.
"It's your turn to listen to me now Kennedy." You state. "Don't put yourself down like that you hear me?"
He gasps when you pull him into a hug. Your fingers rake through his silken blonde locks and your other hand rubs calming circles into his back.
"Don't ever feel like you're not doing enough for me. I don't need fancy things to be happy okay? I need you to be happy. So instead of working so hard to afford fancy shit, work less so we can spend time together. Because you're all I really want."
Leon sighs shakily and cradles the back of your head, bringing you into the crook of his neck.
"I'm sorry baby... I just want what's best for you."
You reply softly, "You're what's best for me Leon."
He brings you into a passionate kiss. One the two of you have been needing for a long time. His lips taste like cheap liquor and it has you feeling tipsy. Rough hands feel down your waist and touch at the belt loops of your jeans.
"Now what was that about spending Christmas with Chris huh?" He rumbles roughly through sloppy kisses.
You part away panting to catch your breath. "That was just to get at your nerves."
Leon smirks. "Bad girl. I should teach you a lesson huh?"
#leon kennedy fic#leon s kennedy#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy#leon kennedy x you#resident evil#infinite darkness leon#id leon kennedy#silassinclair
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if she asks at any point within the first, oh, tenday or so, where he gets the audacity to be so familiar as to call her "Shadow" and not her full name, he'll fully say "would you prefer if I just said 'girl who's always following me and staring at my ass' outright?" and she can't even think of a witty retort because fuck, that really is what she's doing, following him like his damn shadow, except no she's not staring???? At him?!???!? The gall?!?!?!??
(he's incredibly smug and self-satisfied after that. Even puts a little joking sway into his step as a Bit, shoots her a smug glance the next time he bends over to pick up something. She's both fuming, and a tiny bit entertained by the sheer ridiculousness.)
(she thinks of an absolutely devastating response hours later. Gets a bit mad all over again. Both at him, AND herself like fuck, why couldn't I throw this in his smug, smarmy, stupid face, it would've been so good, he would've been so mortified.)
(I cannot stress enough how much she's gonna hate realizing that she's starting to like this asshole. And even more when she actually finds the softness under his prickly cringefail loser bravado, and realizes that she's falling in love with him.)
(and yeah, so what if she was looking. She has eyes. He has a nice butt. Fucking sue her.)
why am I on the verge of tears you ask? oh nothing i'm just imagining Petyr calling Shadowheart "Shadow" as a nickname first, then slowly transitioning to calling her "Heart" as they grow closer and start sorta-dating, and landing on "my Heart" by the endgame
because he's fucking insufferable like that and I hate him
#oc: petyr wildbrook#squirrel plays bg3#I'm having a lot of fun thinking about ways in which this man mildly sucks#he's arrogant and smug and acerbic and does good things with an eyeroll#and an âugh fine if it gets you to shut up/get off my back/give me what I wantâ#and it takes a minute for everyone to realize all of it is utter bullshit#âno I'm mean and scary and I suck :câ sure u do pal#saved any orphans recently you mean; scary man?#(wyll probably says that verbatim at some point)#(he's gonna be a great foil to Petyr's bitch acts)
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