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shellshocklove · 4 months ago

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brat! | joel miller

pairing/AU: joel miller x brat!female!reader – no outbreak

summary: joel is having a brat summer.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! age gap, enemies to lovers vibes? swearing, drinking of alcohol, smoking of cigarettes, reader wears a dress, heels and lipstick but otherwise no other descriptions, use of pet names, brat tamer!joel, dom!joel, manhandling, a little exhibitionism? fingering, choking, spitting, a little dacryphilia, oral (m receiving), cock worship, spanking, degradation (whore, slut), some sub space territory, unprotected sex (don’t do it!!), creampie, one use of the word ‘daddy’, no use of y/n

a/n: this was fun! and naughtier than i thought it was gonna be 💀 i’ve never written a reader so far removed from my own personality lol and i’m kind of obsessed with how this turned out. anyways stream brat by charlie xcx and happy reading! <3

main masterlist / series masterlist / ao3

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 this account stands with palestine. the creator of tlou is a zionist, and the second game is largly based on israel/palestine. please, everyone who interacts, educate yourself about the genocide happening right now, and support/donate.

Blitzes of red, green, and blue danced before your eyes. The beating in your temples in tune with the bass vibrating in your chest. Around you the faceless bodies moved in slow motion. The heat rose around you as the sweat clung to your skin.

You’re sure you’ve lost your friends. Well, not lost lost. They were in the dancing crowd somewhere. Behind you, the same ugly guy had been rubbing up against you for a minute too long. You knew because you’d tipped your head back once and his borderline bowl cut hair, polo shirt with deep sweat rings under his arms, and tan chinos, were not it.

His breath stank of tequila when he leaned into your ear, “Hey,” he slurred, “wanna get out of here?”

And that had been your cue to leave.

With a scoff, you turned around to get a good look at him. You’d sized him up, made a show of it, and laughed in his face. Then you pushed your way through the crowd, coming up for air by the bar.

The earlier buzz you’d been sailing on, had weaned off a long time ago. It had been last minute, you weren’t even going out tonight, just having dinner with your childhood friends while you were home for the summer. But then one of them had ordered shots for the table just as the last plate had been cleared, and soon you were at the club cruising on a couple of glasses of wine and a lousy shot. Not that it mattered, usually you ended up twirling some sorry man around your finger long enough to get yourself a couple of rounds, before you’d excuse yourself to the ladies’ room and leave with your friends.

Looking down the bar, you searched for tonight’s victim.

To your right a group of girls huddled around the edge, waiting for their own drinks by the looks of it.

Not them.

Down to your left, a boy with a face full of acne fumbled with his card as he paid for a round of beers. He didn’t even look old enough to be in here, but that wasn’t your problem. You had to hold back a laugh as you watched him struggle to figure out how to carry the five beers he’d ordered back to his friends. He ended up gathering them in a circle to wrap his hands around, and you’d seen this go wrong plenty of times to feel the pull of an amused smile on your lips.

When he’d vanished into the crowd, your eyes flicked back to the bar, to the man sitting there– and he was a man. Probably somewhere in his fifties you reckoned, but he looked gorgeous. A real dilf. Your interest was piqued.

You slid down the bar.

He didn’t look particularly amused where he sat at a bar stool, nursing a beer in his hands. Who sits at the bar in the club? He looked nice. Brown hair, dark jeans, and a grey t-shirt stretched deliciously over his chest. When you got closer you could see a flannel resting beside him on the bar.

Is this what older men wear to the club these days?

He didn’t seem to notice you as you sat down next to him – either that, or he ignored you. You kinda wished for the latter, it would make it more fun.

You gave him a few more minutes of silence, of your presence, to see if he’d say something to you. When he didn’t you asked him over the music, “Aren’t you gonna buy me a drink?”

You said it innocently, but like it was obvious and he hadn’t caught on yet. His head turned towards you, still unamused, but with his eyebrow raised.

Okay, you could work with that.

You didn’t say anything as he studied you, drank you in like you’d done to him from afar. You felt his gaze over your clinging dress, your bare shoulders, before they found your eyes.

Something tickled in your core, and you were reminded of how long it had been since you’d been properly fucked– fucked by someone who wasn’t some drunk guy at your college’s parties, but fucked by someone who knew what they were doing.

The man turned towards you; a smile tickling the corner of his mouth.

“Does that usually work f’you, sweetheart?”

You weren’t expecting his rebuttal, but you liked it. He wasn’t some boy who’d trip over himself for the privilege of being in the presence of you. The boys – they made it too easy – but this man would make you work for it.

Putting on your most saccharine smile you slid closer to him, “You looked so lonely over here– thought I’d keep you company.”

A scoffing laugh escaped him, and his head dipped, “’s that so?” His eyes found yours again.

“Haven’t seen you here before,” you ignored his question, and brushed your heeled foot up the length of his calf.

“Ain’t ever been here before,” he kept his eyes on your face, his drawl pulling at the words and twisting up your insides.

“So, a virgin, huh?” you teased, and that seemed to amuse him.

“What– you’re here to pop my cherry?”

This time an amused smile pulled at your face. You liked this man. “Not without a drink first,” your foot slid down his calf, “what do you take me for?”

A bright sense of pride filled your chest when you made him laugh, filling you up with confidence.

“D’you want me to answer that?” he rebutted.

He didn’t say it with any malice, it was teasing and playful, and it pulled at the veil inside you. A genuine smile pulled at the corners of your mouth, “Probably not.”

“What can I getcha, then, sweetheart?”

“G&T?” you said, and bit down on your bottom lip coquettishly.

Turning away from you, the man got the attention of the bartender. You watched his profile, followed the line of his jaw, the shape of his nose. You decided then and there that your night was gonna end in this man’s bed.

“Sooo,” you sang, when you’d gotten your drink, “first time here, huh?” The man just nodded, before he sipped his beer.

Not much of a talker, huh?

“You here alone, or? With the wife maybe?”

That pulled a laugh from him. “I’m here with my lil’ brother… bachelor party,” he shook his head, like he couldn’t believe he’d gotten dragged in here, “he’s gettin’ married next month.”

“Ah,” you nodded and took a sip of your drink. “So, where are you heading next? A strip club?” you teased.

The man just shot you an unimpressed look, and you thought about how you’d never seen a man look so out of place, ever.

“What? The wife won’t let you?”

A sharp huff escaped him, “Ain’t got no wife no more,” he said matter-of-factly.

You took another sip of your drink to hide the smile from forming.

Bingo.

“I take it you’re a man who does what he wants, then?” you said it innocently, and subtly slid your hand over his knee. His eyes caught yours at the touch, and you swore you saw something change in them.

You’d hooked him now, all you had to do was reel him in.

He turned his body towards you – he did it slowly, like every muscle he moved had been calculated beforehand. Then he leaned in closer, his hot breath huffing against your ear.

“Takes one to know one, ain’t that right?”

Under your skin, you buzzed, your heart beating out of your chest at the new proximity. You had to stay cool, play it off, act unbothered. So, you pulled away slightly, and turned your head to meet his eyes.

“What?” he challenged with a raise of an eyebrow, “Ain’t used to people talkin’ back?”

When you didn’t say anything right away, a smug grin coated his lips, “Yeah, I know girls like you.”

“There’s no girls like me,” you argued back, his confidence both pissing you off, and turning you on at the same time.

“Oh, but there are– Spoiled daddy’s girls who ain’t had anyone tellin’ them no their whole life. They do what they want, and play with who they want– I know a brat when I see one.”

Your eyes narrowed at him as he pulled away, that infuriating smug grin not going anywhere. The worst part was that he was right, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“But you like that don’t you?” you challenged, “I bet you live in some sad house in a sleepy suburban cul-de-sac, go to the same boring job every day, and wish your wife never left you.”

A flash of hurt could be seen across his face as those last words left your lips, and you thought you’d maybe gone too far. A beat of silence passed between you, the buzzing beat of the club music keeping the tune of the tension building.

You were about to apologize when he finally spoke, “You’re a rude one, aren’t ya?”

His voice didn’t sound as hurt as you’d thought, and you realize he was playing your game. You almost had him.

“And what are you gonna do about it?” you challenged, hammering the final nail in the coffin.

“That depends on you, sweetheart.”

Outside the club, Joel (the man had finally introduced himself) leaned against the bricks of the alley as you fished a cigarette from your purse. According to your phone, your uber would be there in ten minutes. The fresh air had sobered you up slightly, exchanging the buzzing alcohol in your veins with excitement.

You didn’t know what you were in for.

Over your skin, you felt his gaze roll over you, and you let him look. Let him study your body filling out your sheer, white, almost see-through dress. You didn’t offer him a cigarette; he’d have to ask for it himself, or take it, if he wanted a drag.

“So,” you took a drag of your cigarette, savoring the first tar-y breath, before exhaling through your nose, “where are you taking me?”

Joel shifted his weight against the bricks as his arms crossed over his wide chest. “Whatchu call it? My sad house?” he said, his voice bordering on cold if it wasn’t for the smug smile covering his features.

You gave him a sultry look as you stepped closer, crossing one heeled foot in front of the other, slowly.

“Mmm,” you hummed, as you tilted your head with an uninterested face, “Sounds fucking boring to me.” Your finger climbed up his chest, eyes traveling from his chest to his face. His stern face gave nothing away, as you took another drag of your cigarette and blew the smoke in his face.

Finally, he’d had enough. His large hand wrapped around your wrist, and tightened, before he turned you around and pushed you up against the wall. You let out an exaggerated huff as your body hit the bricks, your cigarette slipping from your fingers. He pushed himself up against you, and you couldn’t contain the satisfied grin on your face, pleased to have pushed his buttons enough to finally act.

“Oh, I’ll show you boring, brat.”

A rough hand danced up the side of your thigh and under the hem of your dress. Challenging him, you squirmed against the grip of his other hand around your wrist.

“Nuh-uh,” he shook his head, and he was so close now you felt his breath ghost over your lips. With a twist of your arm, he pinned it behind your back, Joel now completely in control, and a buzz of arousal spread through your body at the thought.

“You listen’ up now, and I’m only gonna say it once: you’re gonna do as I say, when I say it, and no talkin’ back, we clear?” His voice was stern, but his dark brown eyes gave him away; how they’d widened with lust, blown out and dark. Your panties already soaked at the thought of what he had in mind for you tonight.

“Yes,” you said playfully, biting down at your bottom lip through a smile.

“Yes, sir,” he corrected as his rough hand on your thigh slid closer and closer to the seam of your thong. “Good girls who do as they’re told get rewarded, you understand?”

You nodded, sucking in a breath as you felt his fingers brush over your clit lightly. He was testing you now, teasing you, and pushing your buttons. You felt like you were on fire, burning from arousal; it licked up your thighs and flickered bright in your core.

Where was that fucking uber?

“But you ain’t no good girl,” he snickered, sliding his hand past your panties, “teasin’ me– tryna provoke me,” he shook his head, and a slick sound of your arousal could be heard as he worked two thick fingers through your wet folds.

His finger poked at your hole where it ached for him. The thick tension between you weighed heavy with arousal as Joel leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“Imma have to punish you for that, baby, put you in your place.”

A gasp left your lips as he pressed two fingers inside. The stretch stung slightly, but you welcomed the pain, liked it. A satisfied grin blossomed over your face as he started moving his fingers. They felt so good inside of you, so thick, almost like a cock, and the way his palm rubbed against your clit– it gave you just enough stimulation to push you towards the edge of an orgasm.

“Look at you, slut,” his breath was hot as he whispered in your ear, “so desperate to get fucked.”

A strangled moan escaped your throat, and you couldn’t help but grind against his fingers to chase the pleasure he was giving you. The degrading words and humiliation only made you wetter. Joel couldn’t get any more perfect– so far, he'd played his part to the T.

“In your– fuck!” You moaned as the pad of his fingers brushed up against your g-spot. Just a little more now, and he’d have you coming on his fingers.

“Didn’t hear you, sweetheart, y’need to speak up,” he taunted, continuing the pace of his fingers.

“In your d-dreams, old man,” you tried to spit out, but the pleasure he gave you was taking over, making you stumble over your words.

Quickly, Joel withdrew his fingers, sliding them up the front of your cunt, giving your clit a slap, before he backed off completely. You gasped; face pulled tight in a disappointed frown.

“What the fuck!?”

And then he fucking laughed, fucking laughed at you.

“I already told you, sweetheart, only good girls get rewarded.”

He stepped closer again, his hand cupping your cheek while the other pressed the fingers coated in your arousal to your lips. “Clean up your mess, and we’ll see ‘bout that reward.”

Parting your lips, he stuffed his fingers inside your mouth. They tasted of you, a sweet-salty taste. You closed your lips around them, and sucked, letting your tongue tease around his fingers the way you’d tease his cock. “That’s it, good girl,” he grinned, and it sparked a small flame of pride in your chest.

When he was pleased with you, he slipped his fingers from your mouth. He let them glide over your lips, smearing your lipstick and coating your lips in your own saliva as a set of headlights illuminated the street. Then, he patted your cheek, nodding towards what you assumed was your uber as it rolled to a stop in front of you, “Go on, get in the uber.”

In the uber Joel was quiet, ignoring you as were forced to make small talk with the driver (you’d give him a bad review just for that). When you thought the small talk had been torture enough, Joel slid his hand up your thigh, resting his big palm right at the seam of your leg as he looked out the window. If your panties weren’t already soaked from what he’d done to you in the alleyway of the club, then they definitely were now as the anticipation only grew.

Joel’s house wasn’t sad at all. It was quaint, and suburban, but homey. Nice. No expensive designer furniture, but sturdy and of good quality either way. He had no rare art, but a decent amount of family photos and what looked like a child’s drawings. You stopped in the middle of the stairs to admire them. In one of them Joel looked as old as you were now, with a baby in his arms, in another he had his arm around the shoulders of another man who looked a lot like him, just with darker hair. His brother probably, the one getting married. The little baby was a little girl, and she grew up in front of you; birthday parties, first days of school, soccer uniforms. Your eyes landed on a photo of her in a graduation cap with Joel and the other man at her side, grinning wide with a college diploma in her hands. This man wasn’t who you’d thought. He had a family– a daughter your age. The wall of memories squeezed at your heart, made something inside you always kept hidden break forth–

“You comin’?”

Joel waited at the top of the stairs for you, his face pulled into a confused frown. You skipped up the stairs, happy to have left your heels by his door. When you got to the top, you pushed at his chest, “Just looking at your sad things.” With a roll of his eyes, he led you to his bedroom.

“Get on the bed,” he ordered, but his voice was distant, the bite from the club was gone.

It felt like the perfect opportunity to play with him.

“No,” you blinked innocently, your eyes wide as you watched him unbutton his green flannel, “you’ll have to make me.”

He let out a laugh that sounded more like a sigh, “I’m serious, sweetheart, I need to talk to you first.”

Talk?

“You can’t get it up, is that it? You’re too old?” you teased but sat down at the bed either way.

“You really are mean, aren’t ya?” His laugh sounded like a surrender. “A man wantin’ to be a gentleman and establish boundaries before he ruins her, and this is what he gets?”

Shaking his head, he walked closer, and cupped your head in his hands. “I plan on bein’ rough with ya, sweetheart, and I think that’s what you want too, isn’t it? Get fucked so hard you can’t think?” You nodded your head in his arms, the velvet bass of his voice going straight to your core.

“Listen’ closely– if I do anythin’ you don’t like, you say ‘red’ and we stop, and if you can’t speak then you pinch me, you hear?”

You nodded again.

“Words, baby, need y’to say it with that pretty voice.” His thumbs brushed over your cheek.

You nodded again, “Yes, sir… if I want you to stop, I say ‘red’, or pinch you.”

“Good girl,” he praised, “Anythin’ else?”

“Um…” Your front teeth caught on your bottom lip, “I’m on birth control– you can come inside me if you want.”

A noise rumbled in Joel’s chest. “Such a naughty girl,” his thumb brushed over the plump of your lips, “letting a stranger come inside her, huh?”

You nodded again, a wicked smile breaking against his thumb before you opened your mouth, and bit down. Not hard, just enough to pull a reaction from him, and you did.

Like a switch, the warm whiskey eyes faded into a deep black. The grip on your chin slid downwards, where it found your neck. He didn’t squeeze, but his grip wasn’t gentle either, holding you in place like a warning.

“You ought to treat me with more respect, brat…” he spat, his thumb digging into the column of your neck, “Apologize for your rude behavior.”

Against his hand, you shook your head to the best of your abilities, his grip tightening with your movement. You wished he’d choke you properly, make your head all fuzzy and empty– filled with nothing except for him.

“No.”

His face turned to stone above you, and you felt a giddiness flutter in your stomach.

He didn’t like that.

In one quick motion his hand was ripped from your throat as he stepped away. He didn’t look at you as he sighed, his hands falling to his belt buckle, sharp metal clinking.

Taking advantage of the moment, you admired the man before you. How big and broad he was. How his t-shirt stretched tight over his broad chest, biceps bulging against the woven fabric. You studied his hands as they fiddled with his buckle, thought about how good they’d felt inside you earlier, the pleasurable sting as they’d stretched you out.

“Get on your knees,” he ordered, voice cold.

When you didn’t move, he took matters into his own hands.

“Get. On. Your. Fuckin’. Knees.”

His grip around your wrist was tight, as he pushed you down. The hardwood floor dug into your knees as he manhandled you, sure to bruise tomorrow. He stood his ground in front of you, legs slightly parted as you were now eye level with his inviting bulge. He was big, and you felt your eyes widen. Even hidden away in his jeans you could see it, see the length of his hard cock strain against his thigh – it made your mouth water as you squeezed your thighs together.

“Look me in the eyes,” he told you, and your eyes flicked upwards – obedient for once. “Eyes up here at all times– Don’t you fuckin’ dare look away.”

He made it hard to do as he’d ordered, popping the button on his jeans, and pulling the zipper down. You wanted to see his cock, touch it, feel it inside you. He couldn’t possibly expect you to not look when it was right there.

"Disobedient slut.”

The slap came quicker than the stolen glance, and your hand came up to graze your cheek on pure instinct. It stung under your palm, like a thousand little knives.

“What did I jus’ say?” He spat out the question, his hand gripping your chin to force eye contact.

“Look away?” you tried, your voice rising an octave.

“Open your fuckin’ mouth,” he sighed, leaning closer, “I ain’t wanna hear any more of your fuckin’ attitude.”

His grip tightened on your chin and your mouth dropped open by itself, “Open your mouth– that’s it… wider, just like that.”

Then he spat, right into your mouth.

You flinched at the suddenness of it, but Joel’s grip on your chin held you still– kept your mouth open, as you felt his spit slide further and further into your throat. You had a feeling you shouldn’t swallow until he told you, so you didn’t, your head pliant in his hand as you let him study you. A wide grin spread across his face as he moved your head from one side to the other, his rough fingers denting into your skin as you waited for your next command.

“Swallow, brat.”

He let go of your face, and you closed your mouth, swallowing down his spit with an audible gulp. “Good girl,” he muttered and stood tall, hooking his fingers into the waistband of his jeans.

The rough sound of denim against skin filled your ears as he freed himself. You were on your best behavior now, gathering your hands in your lap, sitting pretty for him as you locked eyes with him coquettishly.

“That’s better,” he said, “Actin’ like a proper good girl now,” he praised.

It took everything in you not to look, as he stepped closer.

With a fist tight around his cock, he brought the head to your mouth. He tapped it on your lips, smearing the precum beading at the tip and ruined your lipstick.

You wanted to taste him so badly, but he couldn’t know that. Pinching your lips together, you shook your head with wide coquettish eyes. His eyebrows pinched together in a frown, eyes narrowing at you as he pushed his cock against your lips.

“Open that pretty fuckin’ mouth, f’me,” he ordered.

Pretty. He called you pretty, and it was enough for you, you gathered, and stretched your mouth open for him.

“That’s it, wider.”

You twitched in surprise as he slapped the length against your tongue. It was heavy on your tongue, the salty taste of his precum mixing with your saliva as he rubbed the head over your tongue, in and out, in and out – coating his big cock in your saliva, “just like that, baby, get it nice ‘nd wet.”

Closing your lips around the mushroom tip, you ran your tongue around it in circles, teasing the underside and the slit, before you tipped your head back. His cock bobbed in front of you obscenely, a frown formed on his face again and you knew he was about to tell you off.

Gathering a blob of saliva in your mouth, you spat on his cock instead. A low humming laugh rumbled from Joel’s chest, as he collected your spit and rubbed it in over his shaft in slow strokes. The spit dripped down, down over your front where you felt it darken the fabric of your dress. Subtly, you reached your hands behind your back to pull at the zipper.

“Yeah, that’s right, get those pretty tits out f’me.”

He let you maneuver out of your dress while he stroked his cock slowly in front of your face, and finally, you could get a good look at him. He was bigger than you’d thought from his bulge. Veins lining his thick shaft as you watched the way his fist moved up, massaging the tip gently, and down again in a slow, steady rhythm. At the base unruly curls of dark hair shone in the spit gathering, and you let your eyes wander downward to his balls where they hung heavy.

You wanted to taste them, too.

With your dress discarded on the floor beside you, you sat up slightly, spreading your legs and tucking your calves up to your thighs. Almost naked, safe for the thong splitting your cheeks, you arched your back slightly, making sure he got a good view of your ass.

A groan rumbled in Joel’s chest, and a hand came down on your head, “You want my cock, don’t you, slut?” he spat, slapping his cock on your right cheek, spreading your spit on your skin.

“Do you make all your girls wait this long or is it just me?” you tutted, almost rolling your eyes at him.

“There’s that fuckin’ attitude again.”

Slapping his cock harder against your cheek, he leaned forward letting a blob of spit drip from his own lips, coating both his cock and your face as he rubbed it in with his cock.

It was obscene, degrading, and you’d never been wetter.

In desperation to taste him again, you opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out. The hand he’d used to stroke himself, wrapped around your skull, caging his cock between his hand and your face as he started thrusting against your face, his heavy balls rubbing against your chin with every slow push.

It was messy, sloppy, and wet. He held your head steady with his other hand, while he continued rubbing his cock over your cheek, nose, and forehead. His spit mixed with your own as you lapped at the underside of his cock; trying to taste as much of him as he’d give you.

“You dirty little whore,” he smiled, “You like that don’t you?”

Under him you whimpered, clit pulsing with want as he made you his plaything, did what he wanted with you.

“Yeah,” you moaned unabashedly, licking greedily at the underside of his cock.

At that, he laughed, and the grip on your head loosened as he pulled back. You only had time to take a deep breath before he stuffed his cock down your throat. It was abrupt, and harsh – the hefty length of him making room for himself inside your mouth.

You couldn’t fit him all inside, gagging as the head of him hit the back of your throat. He held you there still, one second, two seconds, three seconds. Your hand found his thigh where you tapped at him, and finally he pulled away.

You gasped for air, your breath wet with spit as small tears pricked at your eyes. His hand landed on top of your head again, grounding you to the moment as he searched your eyes, checking in.

No, you tried to convey, you’re not too rough.

Pleased, his cock bumped against your lips again, and you dropped your mouth open for him again.

“That’s it,” he murmured, thrusting his cock back in your mouth, “let’me fuck that throat open.”

Dropping your jaw, you tried to make room for him in your mouth. It wasn’t easy, your lips stretched wide around the girth of him as you tried to calm yourself, to open your throat for him to abuse. His cock was easily the biggest cock you’d ever sucked, and you told yourself you needed to relax.

He pressed himself deeper, and you let out a whimper. “Work with me, slut, hold still.”

Trying your best to obey, you breathed through your nose, staving off your gag reflex the best you could as the head knocked at the back of your throat. His other hand cupped your chin, keeping your head still between his large hands. A tear rolled down your cheek when he rutted into your mouth, testing the waters.

“Good girl,” he praised, fucking gently into your mouth. Saliva gathered in your mouth, drooling down your chin with each thrust. “Such a fuckin’ mess– Look me in the eye as I fuck your throat.”

Your hand wrapped around his wrist, keeping you steady as you locked eyes with him. It was difficult, tears clouding him in a vignette, but you did as you were told. He studied you closely, tested your boundaries, completely in control.

You gasped for air when he finally pulled back again. A wet string of saliva connecting your lips to the tip of his cock. A proud smirk coated his lips, while his hand stroked your head in praise.

The small moment of relief passed quickly, and soon his cock was back in your throat, bruising it in a steady rhythm.

“Take that fuckin’ cock all the way down your throat, whore,” he spat, his thrust a little rougher now that he knew you could take it.

He had you at his mercy now as he ruined you. Ruined your throat, ruined your body, ruined you for other men. Tears mixed with snot, which mixed with spit as it ran down your chin, dripping lewdly onto your tits where it made a mess.

Over you, Joel rambled.

“Good fuckin’ slut.”

“Choke on that big fuckin’ cock.”

“You love it don’t you?”

And you did, you loved it. Joel made you feel useful for once in a life – a fucked up thought, but then again you never said you weren’t fucked up. Joel’s words were filthy and dirty, and as humiliating as they were he made you feel wanted.

You just wanted to be wanted.

Another gasp of air filled your lungs as he slipped from your mouth. His grip on your head was tighter now, his cock throbbing in front of you. As much as you wanted him to fuck you, you wouldn’t complain if he came down your throat. He’d given you so much already.

“Fuck,” he whispered and let go of your head.

You took the opportunity to catch your breath, sniffling as you wiped at the snot that clogged up your nose. His hand came down to squeeze at the base of himself, clearly staving off his orgasm.

“What,” you croaked, your voice hoarse after his assault on your throat, “you’re so old you can’t come now?”

His eyes darkened as they locked with yours, and a giddy bouncing feeling twisted in on itself in your tummy. You wanted to see what he’d do to you– how he’d fuck you, and if you’d have to push his buttons to see it, you gladly push the big red button.

His hand wrapped around your bicep, digging into the skin as he dragged you to your feet and pushed you towards the bed.

“Still a fuckin’ brat I see,” he spat, “We can’t have that can we?”

Putting on your best puppy dog eyes, you bit down on your bottom lip. “Who me?” you said innocently.

“Bend over, slut,” he ordered, his voice coated in a tone that said he was fed up with your bullshit. Strong arms turned you around, manhandling you, and pushed your front down on his bed, “’nd spread your fuckin’ legs.”

With a kick to your ankles, he forced your legs open. Tipping your head up, you locked eyes with your reflection in the window, like a camera lens capturing your ruin at Joel’s hand. He hovered over you, his eyes trailing over your naked body, laid out for him to take.

The first smack came quickly, hard, and brutal on your ass cheek. It made you jump, the muscles in your ass clenching as you tried to reel yourself in. Joel’s rough hand soothed over the burn immediately, and you turned your neck to find his eyes.

“I wanna hear an apology from you, brat,” he said calmly, one finger hooking into the lace of your thong.

You shook your head. Stubborn. “No.”

His head fell between his shoulders, while his finger hooked in your thong tightened its grip, and with a hard tug, he ripped it in two.

“Then I’m gonna have to punish ya.” He said it with a deep sigh, like he had no other choice.

You couldn’t hide the excitement that filled you at those words, your cunt now dripping with need. A need for Joel.

With the scrap of your thong now discarded his hand danced over your ass. You tried not to hold your breath, but he drew it out, and you couldn’t help it. The tension in the air so thick, you couldn’t focus.

Smack!

He spanked your other cheek hard, and the tension was released with a whimper. A tickling feeling of pins and needles spread through your cheek.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

They came in quick procession, your hands gripping the sheets for a lifeline as he put you in your place. Moans fell from your lips without abandon, and you felt yourself drip down your legs.

Smack!

“Look how wet you are,” he noticed, running a finger through your seam, “You like it? Only desperate whores like to get spanked.”

He leaned over you, his soft belly (when had he removed his shirt?) pressed against your back, coarse hair tickling your skin, as you felt his hard cock rub up against your sore ass.

“But that’s what you are, ain’t you? A desperate fucking whore.” His breath in your ear, had goosebumps erupt down your spine, and you sobbed out a whine.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he whispered, and pulled away – taking his warmth with him.

Smack!

Tears pushed their way behind your eyes, not because you didn’t like it, but it stung like a motherfucker. Joel wasn’t all brutal, he rubbed your skin between hits, but fuck if it didn’t also hurt with pleasure.

“Say you’re sorry,” he demanded.

Turning around you shook your head, big wide eyes watching him as he spanked you again.

Smack!

“You’re tearing up, little girl– It stings doesn’t it?” he asked, voice laced with fake pity.

You nodded.

“Well, maybe you should be a good girl then– say you’re sorry.”

Smack!

“I’m sorry!” you blurted out, voice cracking.

Finally.

Joel stopped immediately, his hand twisting around your waist to flip you on your back. His eyes danced over your body, almost tenderly but still full of lust. His hand moved up and down your sides, down the thick of your thigh before they gripped your ankles and tugged.

A squeal escaped you as he manhandled you, his large hands cupping your face while he fitted himself between your legs. “Good girl,” he cooed, thumbs stroking your cheeks, “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You shook your head in his hands, popping your lip out in an innocent pout.

“No,” he cooed, removing a hand to fit between your bodies.

You gasped when you felt the head of his cock bump your clit, the first real stimulation you’d had since you’d left the ally by the club. Your hips bucked by themselves, chasing the friction of his touch.

“Who owns this cunt?” he asked you, dark eyes staring into yours as he dragged his cock through your soaked folds.

“You do, sir,” you sighed immediately, your whole body aching for him.

A wide wicked grin spread across his face, “Lookit you bein’ such a good girl– finally know your place, huh?”

With no warning, you felt the blunt head of him press at your opening, and then Joel pushed inside you. Your mouth parted in a gasp at the intrusion; eyes glazed over in bliss as you felt yourself get split in two around the girth of his cock. He was so big, filling you up inch by inch, a heavy pressure poking at the deepest part of yourself.

“There you go, baby– you jus’ take it. Take all that cock inside,” he grunted, eyebrows pinched tight.

All you could do was moan as you felt him bottom out inside you, “Shit,” you gasped, “So fuckin’ big.”

“I know, baby, you’re doin’ so good f’me,” he praised, starting to rock his hips into you.

He picked up the pace quickly when he was sure you could take it, splitting you open on his cock as he made you takeit. Under him you could feel yourself float away in the pleasure. His hand came up to wrap around your neck and a big smile spread across your face.

You felt so warm. Joel felt so fucking good.

He reduced you to a puddle, a puddle of pleasure and ecstasy. It was better than any drug you’d ever taken. Better than the first day of summer vacation. Better than anything you’d ever known. The sound of skin against skin faded away into a tranquil rhythm of pleasure. You belonged to him now, lived only for him and the way his cock felt inside you.

“Feel how deep that is?” he asked you, somehow having maneuvered your knees to press into your chest.

You couldn’t do anything other than nod, desperate and whiny. You needed to fucking come. Inside you, his cock bumped into a spot no other man had reached before, and a fluttering feeling coiled itself in your core.

You were so close now.

“Joel,” you gasped, searching for the words as he continued his pace, balls slapping hard against your ass.

“No,” he told you, teeth gritted, “You hold it, slut, you hold it ‘till I give you permission.”

Later, a thought of how he’d had you so close to coming without even a tap at your clit would graze you, but in this moment your thought were only filled with Joel. A hand found his bicep, you needed something to hold on to or you’d burst, and squeezed. Above you Joel’s groans and moans got louder.

“Hold it.”

Tears streamed down your face, as you heaved for breath. You were right there, right on the edge now.

Please, Joel, please, sir, please.

“Come.”

Arching your back off the mattress, you shook as you finally tipped over the edge of bliss. The sounds escaping your throat weren’t your own, they were someone else’s, someone possessed with pleasure.

A “Thank you,” fell from your lips, but you don’t think he heard you. Above you, Joel’s movement became more and more erratic, thrusting himself deeper and deeper before a loud groan vibrated through his chest.

“You take it,” he growled, “take all that fuckin’ cum inside.”

He slammed his hips hard against you, pushing himself as deep as he could inside you, and came with a loud primal groan. His cock twitched within your walls as he emptied himself inside your cunt, the warmth of him filled you up as he painted your walls with cum.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he mumbled, burying his face in your neck, “That cum feels so good inside, don’t it?” he cooed, and you nodded, your hands tangling in his hair. He pulled back and thrusted inside you again, fucking his cum deeper inside.

He stayed inside you as you both caught your breaths. His weight felt good on you, you were safe, as you floated somewhere between reality and a space you’d never been pushed to before.

And you missed him when he pulled away, sliding his half-hard cock from your fucked out cunt, dragging you with him up the bed. You reached for him, laying your hand open against his sheets, but he didn't see it, eyes mesmerized by his spend dripping out of you. His fingers slid through the mess, pushing his cum back inside as his eyes found yours.

Then something in the air shifted, and whatever had come over you, was gone. His fingers left streaks of wetness down the inside of your thigh as he pulled away. For the first time in your life, you didn’t know what to say.

You were ruined now – he’d ruined you for everyone who wasn’t him.

You sat up, turning your head over your shoulder to watch him, watch how his eyes trailed your body.

“Smoke?” you asked, your voice more unsteady than you’d thought.

Joel shook his head as you slung your feet off the bed to find your purse. He sat up against the pillows resting against his broken bed frame. Your eyes raked over his naked body as you fished a cigarette from your packet; drank in his strong arms, his wide chest and followed the dark hair of his happy trail down his belly to his soft cock between his thighs, still coated in your combined cum. Between your legs you could still feel his thick spend leak out of you.

You brought the cigarette to your lips, and just as you were about to light up Joel’s rough voice spoke, “Out the window,” he ordered with a nod in the direction of the window.

Everything was back to how it was before.

A dramatic huff escaped you, “All right…” you muttered.

You felt too heavy– he’d messed with your head; made you show him the real you. He couldn’t see that. So instead, you put your mask back on, turning to face the window to conceal the mischievous smile threating to spill across your face.

“Daddy.”

Behind you, as you cracked open the window, you heard the bed creak. You played it cool, lighting your cigarette and blowing the smoke out the window.

Joel’s breath teased at the back of your neck and over your bare shoulder, making goosebumps dance down your spine, “Thought I’d fucked the attitude out of ya,” his voice was stern.

“Guess I was wrong.”

part two -> here!

i hope someone liked this? a comment telling me your favorite part is always welcome, and my ask box is always open to chat <3 other than that thank you for reading!!

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #the last of us smut #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #tlou smut #pedro pascal

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venjras · 3 months ago

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CHEATING TROPE, PART TWO - GOJO SATORU.

i’m pretty proud of it ngl, english isn’t englishing today so sorry in advance. tw, nsfw : use of pet names, fingering, mating press, praising,

you were wearing a long, black dress that left just your shoulders uncovered while the glittery heels were already threatening the health of your feet. it had taken you years to get ready, perhaps the blame could have been attributed to the numerous changes of clothing that had taken you three hours. literally.

tonight there was an important party at your parents' company and they had left you in gumi’s hands, according to them you had taken too long and so you’d have to go with the boy since they didn't want to risk a delay.

the employee of the year award was at stake, after all.

you didn't even know why you had been so tight about it, maybe because satoru was also going to be there as he was the son of the ceo. option discarded, your last meeting had already been eloquent enough.

you sigh, anchoring the bag that fell right on your side while you tried to tie up your hair with your hands. still undecided whether to keep them loose or not. heading towards the raven's car, frowning. probably his father had lent him his car because you had never seen it before, complete with tinted windows that prevented you from seeing who was inside of it.

anyway, you end up giving up and leaving them loose, you just couldn't find a hairstyle that you liked. opening the door and sitting in the passenger seat with a big huff.

“i swear, i'm tired of this dinner already. can't we escape somewhere else?” you said lowering the visor of the mirror, looking at your made-up eyes and confirming that you had made a great make up choice.

“we can go wherever you want sweetheart, although dressed like this i don't know how far we'll get." you immediately stiffened. that was definitely not megumi's voice. “what the — “ you immediately put your hand on the door handle, noticing his amused expression as you tried to open it but without success. huffing and putting yourself back on the soft seat while he started the engine.

“you don’t wanna be late, do you?” he had his sunglasses on but you were sure they were sparkling with amusement right now. refusing to look at him for a minute longer, not wanting to give him all this satisfaction. you hadn’t seen each other since the previous conversation, you felt like you could still feel the slight effect of it. you certainly would never hook up with someone’s boyfriend, but that didn’t take away the effect that man was able to have on you. “i broke up with her” he interrupted the silence, and you couldn’t really hide the slight feeling of joy you felt in the pit of your stomach. “sorry to hear that.” liar, the laugh the white haired man let out confirmed it too. “bet” and out of nowhere he pulled over, it was a side street where very few people passed by at that time.

what happened in the next half an hour was too fast to even realise it, the last thing you knew was that you were locked between the soft fabric of the backseat and his body. his mouth was devouring yours, tongues looking for each other in a desperate dance, drinking you up completely. fingers pulling hard on his locks, panties lost on the car floor.

“such a messy girl” he quipped at the way your thighs seemed to spread wider, your impatience made him feel lightheaded. his fingers stroke softly along your wet folds, exploring your intimate skin.

his breathing fanned along your neck and his lips curled when you shuddered into him, drinking in the twitch of your thighs and the muffled whimper slipped from your lips when he collected your slick, trailing it up to ease the first roll of your clit. he watched your hips twist under his touch, making him press down on the sensitive bud harder before he's finding a pace and rubbing at you with two fingers.

your hands grabbing at his forearm with every sinful circle of his fingers against your cunt, whimpering needily against his body and it's almost like you're begging him not to stop, and that only drives him to press into you harder, more eagerly as he drinks in the way your lips part to moan when he finally sinks his fingers into your pussy “so fucking wet f’ me.” he groaned, his tone wavering with the weight of his arousal.

he really needed to make you completely his. he took a slow, anguid handful of your breast through your dress, grinning when he realised you've decided to go without a bra tonight, rolling and twisting at the sensitive peak as you whimpered.

“such a dirty girl.” satoru's words were heavy, only making the slick between your legs intensify, making it easier for him to sink his fingers into your tight walls, pressing them against the swollen, sensitive spots inside of you with every practiced twist of his wrist. your clit was getting puffier, more swollen with each graze of his palm against it and he couldn’t help but pull out of your cunt to rub your slick around it. so so sensitive to his touch.

“t — toru.. ” you gasped, trying so desperately to muffle your moans when you looked over to cast him a starry-eyed look, one that lured him in for a kiss that made the whole room spin as his other hand rolled your sensitive nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

drinking in your next languid moan of his name, licking into your mouth with such an intensity that made you gasp. “ that's my good girl, fuck — ” your thighs trembled around him, breaking apart from the kiss wetly to let your head fall back against the backseat.

he kept up his movements, sinking his fingers into your clenching walls with every few swipes just so he could feel the way you were soon going to be squeezing around his cock. letting you ride out your orgasm as you grabbed at him and your hips twisted and jolted with every rub of his fingers as they pulled back to roll your clit, prolonging your blissful state until you were pushing him away with a whimper and breathless pant.

but he was breathing heavy from where his chin was pressed into your shoulder, grazing his lips along your jawline when he tapped on your clit. chuckling at the way the tiny aftershocks made you jolt before he gently tapped on your thigh.

gojo started to undo his belt and the view was breathtaking. messy hair, red lips and eyes full of lust. you could see the outline of his cock and it was massive, mouthwatering. “are you going to be a good girl and take it all f’ me?”

fucking god.

in a couple of seconds he had your legs up in the air, your body nearly folded in half underneath his bigger one. he loved this position solely because he was able to see every change in your facial expressions. “c’mon my love, do that again while I’m inside of you this time” the man mumbled against the shell of you hear, his eyes glued to your pearky breasts and pouty lips.

you nodded, moaning his name repeatedly as his tip kisses the deepest parts of your insides. “b — baby.. ” your tongue rolled out due to how well gojo was pounding you into the seat. just a couple thrusts and you were gone, completely cockdrunk without a worry in sight. he let out a moan at the way you were holding onto him so desperately, like you didn’t want him to go anywhere but there. “fuck..” he hissed. he wasn’t going to be able to keep himself from cumming right inside of your cunt if you kept on squeezing him. his thrusts were knocking the wind out of your lungs. you could only babble about how deep he was and how you loved the way he was fucking you.

he was euphoric, the way your pussy clenched around him, pathetically trying to accommodate for his length. all those other girls, his fist, nothing could be compared to the way your warm walls sucked him in and hugged his cock.

he couldn’t no longer hold in his moans as he fucked you in a brutal mating press, your legs thrown over his shoulder so his tip could abuse your g-spot.

“s — slow down.” you whined but your cries fell upon deaf ears. he grabbed the back of your head and brought your lips to his, his hips not so much as stuttering as he entangles his tongue with yours.

your orgasm hit you so suddenly, so hard and good that your toes curled where they hung over his shoulders, your body stiffening beneath him and the first milking compression of your pussy made his pace stutter, hugging him so tight he couldn’t help but bite so hard into the sensitive skin of your neck he drew blood.

his body trembled as he pulled back slightly to watch your cream pool around the base of his cock, your slick smeared along his skin and your walls still throbbed with every unforgiving push of his hips. your orgasm felt like it stretched on forever as waves of shivers rolled through your body with the heat you felt pour and sting along your nerves. it only took him a few more clapping thrusts and your choked confessions before he was kissing you again.

satoru cummed hard, thick and heavy inside of you when he felt your tongue push against his, swallowing both of your groans into the kiss as he pushed his load into your puffy cunt. so lost in bliss.

the party was long way gone by now.

©️ venjras.

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stuffeddeer · 3 months ago

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Hello! Are requests open?

If not, ignore this ask.

I wanted to ask you a beast dazai x neglected reader. Like, a reader who has been ignored and neglected from her entire family since she grow up. She no longer gets goodbyes, she has to cook for herself, her parents don't even acknowledge her when she's sick.

She's been recently accepted as a member of the port, more specifically a secretary of the one and only Dazai Osamu in flesh and bones. Just her luck, this so "scary demon prodigy" is also the sweetest most loyal and pretty boyfriend of her.

When Dazai finds out how she gets (or rather not get) treated at home, he gets genuinely pissed off!! And wanting her to just be good, he asks her if she want to spend sometime in his penthouse, far from that family, somewhere where all the attention she needs is on her, at least there Dazai can actually show her how much she's worth all the love in the world! Come on, she gave him a reason to live, how could he even accept she is living a shitty life in such an house?

Also, PLEASE, PLEASE. An au where beast dazai doesn't kill himself. Also, I love the concept that in every universe the reader and him are soulmates. Like, it's just so perfect I'm so in love with that idea!!

ALSO AGAIN OPS, i wanted to say that I LOVE LOVE your dazai SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO MUCH!!!! I've recently stumbled into your blog and I MUST SAY THAT THIS IS JUST.. PERFECT???? I love YOU, deer, for all your wonderful ideas, I love THE ASKS, because damn all your asks give just as wonderful ideas as the one you write out, and I love YOUR WORKS especially the y!dazai like yes???? Just yes????

(My favorite character is Chuuya, but my soft spot for Beast dazai is actually insane, you don't even imagine how much I love that man. Also, because my heart just hurt and break each time people talk about Dazai being a cheater, THANK YOU??? THE ASK, AND YOUR REPLY, THANK YOU SO MUCH??? COULDN'T LIVE WITH THE FEELING DAZAI THAT CHEATS ANYMORE! THANK YOU THANK YOU)

Anyways.

Woah, this got long, I swear I'm not crazy..

Can I be ⏳️ anon if no one else is??

HIII ⏳️ ANON!!! im so glad you enjoy my works and my dazai!!! (as opposed to . asagiris dazai lmaooo)

im sorry this is so late 😭 but im back on the writing grind 😼

The lights were on in your boyfriend’s penthouse, a bolt of worry shooting down your spine at the sight. With his spare key haphazardly shoved into your pocket and door left wide open, you tiptoe into what should've been his apartment, trying to find out if someone broke in.

Dazai had asked you to stop by and drop off something at his place — not exactly standard work for a secretary but you were happy to assist your boyfriend. In your arms now were the groceries a different lackey had picked up and left on your desk. Normally Dazai would take them back himself, he said, but he would need to stay at work late and finish up some things. You were to take his place and make sure the refrigerated goods didn’t go bad. That’s what he said to you, anyway, which you found a bit confounding; Couldn't he have a lackey bring it up in your stead? Sure, Dazai liked to bring his own food to his home to alleviate the threat of poison, but it wouldn't be the first time he let it happen anyway.

While you had been a bit skeptical, pushing the topic seemed unnecessary since you were more than willing to do it either way. Any time spent far from your home and your family was time you cherished, so you didn’t think twice before accepting his stupid and unusual request and taking his spare penthouse key.

But now, you were regretting it. Anyone capable of breaking into the Port Mafia boss’s penthouse was not someone to be underestimated: you were in serious trouble. Cautiously, you hold the paper bags tightly to keep the food from moving around noisily before peeking into the kitchen: the room with the lights on. What could they be doing here..?

Plating dinner, apparently.

“Love! You’ve finally arrived - good. Take a seat!”

Your boyfriend was donned in a frilly pink apron you’re sure he bought just for this occasion, since you've never seen him in it before. With an amused chuckle, you stepped back. "Let me close the door then I'll join you."

After putting away all of the groceries he'd asked you to bring home for him - and realizing he already had all of these items in his cupboards and refrigerator already - you tug on the ribbon keeping the apron fixed against his neck.

The top half falls down from his chest, curling over the second tie around his hips and dangling loosely. "Undressing me already?" Dazai hums playfully.

"You're obnoxious." Next comes the tie around his waist, the bunched up apron fabric quickly pulled against your chest. You gently push Dazai to the side as you unfold it. "C'mon, I'll take over now."

Dazai huffs childishly, pouting dramatically for the full effect. "Hey!" He reaches out, snagging the apron from you and quickly tying it back on himself. Hands securely gripping your waist, Dazai lifts you from the ground and carries you - feet hovering just over the wooden floor - to the dining room, where an empty basket sits between variously sized candles on a decorated table.

On either side of the table are empty plates and fancy napkins, ones you hadn't known Dazai even owned, with cutlery resting on top. Two glasses sit on the table, one scotch and one wine glass, both filled with their respective drinks. Dazai sets you down next to the table, feet finally touching the floor once again while his arms snake out from your waist, making sure to pat your tummy once as his hand slides around it.

"Hope you're hungry - I made your favorite. It's all plated and ready to go, I just... burnt the bread you like. That garlicky kind from that restaurant we went to a few weeks ago? I gently requested the chef to give me the recipe and she happily handed it over! Of course, it must've been my handsome good looks that finally made her acquiesce rather than the gun in my coat pocket— "

Your wonderful boyfriend continues to prattle on and yet you barely register any of it, just thinking about how he knew you liked that bread and wanted to go to extreme lengths to recreate it for you. A bit timidly, you hold his hands in yours, giving them a mild squeeze. "I can't believe you went to the trouble."

The sound of your whisper makes Dazai grin, puffing out his chest in pride. "Of course! I'd do anything for my love," he says, voice leaning more on the side of egotistical than genuine, a light joke hoping to make you laugh. Like always, he succeeds.

The kiss you press to his cheek makes his smile turn more sincere, a hand moving to flatten the frilly pink fabric around his waist. "Guess you read my apron."

You look down, noticing the tacky KISS THE CHEF embroidered onto the front. A playful scoff passes your lips, rolling your eyes while trying to bite back a smile. "You're annoying. How long have you had this?"

"Umm~," he hums for a moment. "7 hours? And I thought you said I was obnoxious." A high pitched ding! sounds from the kitchen, Dazai quickly rushing back and leaving you alone. You gaze back at the dinner table he set up, smiling excitedly at the thought of him putting all this together just for you.

Spending time with Dazai always lifts a weight off of your shoulders, laughing at his dumb jokes and complaining about your day - it’s a wonderful feeling the both of you lacked prior. Him from his upbringing in the mafia, following in Mori’s footsteps and cursed to take his position, and you - not allowed to rely on anyone except yourself from the moment you could walk. Both you and Dazai were accustomed to loneliness and isolation, knowing the only people you could trust were yourselves.

Coming together after forced alienation all your life made you bit hesitant to depend on him, especially at first. Asking for attention and affection is much scarier than just wanting it. However, Dazai had seemed to warm up to the idea relatively quickly, as though he already knew you could be trusted and had already been used to your presence.

It was a bit jarring, knowing the scary mafia boss was so enamored with you he'd practically jump onto you if you got too close. All things considered, he should've been as cautious as you were, but Dazai so easily slid into his role as your partner. Sometimes you feel bad knowing that you haven't been as forthcoming as he has.

"Stay with me tonight."

The sudden turn in conversation makes you freeze, hand pausing with your glass of wine lingering just in front of your lips. Conversation had been flowing easily just moments prior — chatting about each other's day and various similar small talk, before turning to the dinner at hand. You'd thanked Dazai for the meal before asking him why he decided to do this for you so randomly. Instead of answering, he'd simply replied with the above: stay with me tonight.

"Stay here? Overnight? It's a bit last minute..."

Dazai smiles as you set your wine glass down, staring at him as though expecting an elaboration. Which, of course, he's willing to supply. "And tomorrow night, if you'd like. The one after and every night after that."

Is he asking me to move in? you think, breath hitching. It's all so sudden; you'd never even discussed this possibility with him. Sure, you've spent a night or two over here and there - but very sporadically. It wasn't something often and definitely not frequent enough to lead into moving in so soon.

"Stop overthinking," he cuts into your thoughts. "Take what I'm saying at face value." Gently, Dazai's hand reaches out to grab yours, arm resting on the table as his thumb traces your knuckles. "Stay with me tonight. And we can reassess tomorrow."

Of course he knows how to calm you down, causing you to breathe as you focus on his thumb's ministrations on your hand. Well, it would be nice, knowing the options are to stay with your loving boyfriend or go home to your neglectful family. They wouldn't even notice you're gone, much less care where you ended up, but...

"I have pajamas and clothes for you to use, spare toothbrush and the like." Dazai had answered your question before you even asked, something that always made you smile. No one had ever taken the time to know you, much less well enough to read your mind like that. "If they're not to your liking, I'll have a subordinate get you something else."

You shake your head, wanting nothing more than to spend a night away from your home once again. Or away from your house, rather - since Dazai has quickly proven himself to be your home. "I bet they're perfect. And if not, I— " you hesitate, not wanting to impose. The last thing you wanted was to be—

"You aren't a burden. If not, we can just get something else," Dazai cuts off your train of thought. "I want to, okay? I want to take care of you. I want you to know what it's like to be looked after and taken care of."

"I was going to say if not, maybe I can move some of my clothes here... for the times I stay over." Anxiously, you pick up your fork to poke and prod at your meal, the lovely dinner Dazai had crafted just for you consisting of only your favorite foods.

Dazai nods quickly, eyes glimmering at the idea. He knows this is your metaphorical olive branch, letting him know that you're working up to one day moving in with him. All he wants and all he's ever wanted for as long as he's known you, spanning across multiple lives, is to keep you safe and happy.

The topic changes as dinner continues, and before you know it you're donned in the most expensive pajamas curled up against Dazai fast asleep. Watching you snore beside him, all he can think about is making sure you're surrounded solely by people who cherish you.

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after-witch · 1 year ago

Text

Horrorfest: Trick or Treat [Yandere Chrollo x Reader]

Title: Trick or Treat [Yandere Chrollo x Reader]

Synopsis: "Can you at least tell me where we're going?" Chrollo, in the driver's seat, says nothing. And you barely resist the urge to rip the blindfold off your head.

For Horrorfest request... Chrollo taking darling to a house & won't say the rest because the reveal is necessary for the catharsis.

notes: yandere, reader is kidnapped, emotional damage idk

“Can you please tell me where you’re taking me?” The edge in your voice makes it crack like glass, a tone just as fragile as your poor nerves. Your fingers curl tighter against your thighs. Just what the hell is going on?

Chrollo is beside you in the driver’s seat, as always. He’d never trust you with a car, even in the ordinary circumstance you find yourself in them--traveling from place to place, whisked to hotels and hideouts and sometimes less-than-hospitable abandoned places.

You can hear the gentle acceleration of the engine, the hum of the road underneath you, the rush of wind when he opens the window a crack. The weight of his presence is there, that almost imperceptible sensation of strength from his pure existence.

But.

You can’t see a damn thing through the blindfold he tied around your forehead after getting you into the car earlier this evening.

“You’ll see soon enough, dearest,” he answers finally. You swear you can sense the way his head glances down at your clenched hands. “Do try to calm down. I promise it’s nothing bad.”

You bite your cheek.

“Your definition of bad is often different from mine, so you can see why that doesn’t exactly reassure me.”

The swerve of the car when it turns, more frequently now, like you’ve gone off the main road and are now somewhere more complicated. Where is he taking you, and why? There’s a thud in your heart when you consider the possibilities.

If this was simply a matter of moving to a new hideout, he would have told you; you would have packed your things, few though they are, and been given at least a vague schedule. Driving times. Flight take-offs. Whatever.

But tonight, he’d asked you to follow him after dinner, led you out to the car, and gently urged you inside. He ignored your questions. Then he said it would be a surprise and tied a blindfold around your eyes.

There’s only the vaguest sense of time passing--how long have you been driving anyway? Wherever he was taking you, would you stay there long? Would you be back at the hotel by nightfall? You’d hoped to catch a horror movie marathon the hotel was hosting on its own channel. It was the only Halloween activity Chrollo had agreed to, since he didn’t like the idea of taking you out to a party and it wasn’t like a hotel was going to get trick-or-treaters. Maybe you could have asked him to get some decorations, but somehow the thought of taping up paper bats on the walls of the luxury hotel room didn’t feel in the spirit of the season.

The car comes to a stop and you lurch slightly in your seat.

Chrollo turns off the engines. He leans over and unbuckles your seatbelt.

“Just a moment,” he says, and you swear your hear warm mirth in his voice. Asshole. He enjoys playing with you, doesn’t he? And that’s what this must be, some sort of sick game.

The door opens and there’s a whoosh of pleasantly cool air that smells like leaves and bonfires. He grabs your arm and helps you out of the car. You shiver, not from the chill. You’re outside, that much is clear. But where? And why? And for what?

”Chrollo,” you say, pleading. Your fingers dig into your upper arms. How much trouble would you be in if you just ripped the damn thing off your head on your own?

He chuckles, and he’s close enough that you can almost feel it. Finally his fingers fiddle with the knot of the blindfold and you feel it drop away before your eyes register that you can see again.

It’s--

A neighborhood. An ordinary neighborhood. The evening has not quite settled in, and the sky reflects brilliant orange and red against rows of homes, all flickering yellows and purples and greens from Halloween decorations tacked and staked and pinned outside. The glow of lit jack o’lanterns practically shimmers against the dutifully swept sidewalks.

It makes your heart hurt to see this sort of life.

“Why… did you bring me here?” A thousand thoughts rattle off, most of them not staying long to catch. The idea that he’s taunting you or teasing you comes to mind. Or maybe he’s got some target inside that he’s going to kill and make you watch as revenge for telling him that if he loved the expensive lingerie that found its way into your suitcase so much, he could wear it himself.

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he simply takes your arm and you can do nothing but follow. Helpless thing that you are. Sure, there are people outside. Children itching to trick or treat, parents forcing them to pose for photos. And they’d be dead in a second (if they were lucky) if you said something to them.

The house is nice. A typical suburban house, you suppose. There are orange-and-black garlands strewn about, a giant witch stood up in the corner with a cauldron that has fake lights and an artificial bubbling sound.

There’s even a jack o’ lantern in front of the doorway, glowing softly from a tealight placed inside. It’s a pretty thing. Maybe you should have asked Chrollo if you could carve a pumpkin in the hotel, after all.

When he gets to the front door, he stops and shoves his hands into his jingling pockets. He… has a key to the house, which should perhaps surprise you. But your heart is pounding and your nerves are frayed, and all you can do is think in alternating thoughts: why are we here, and why can’t I live like this?

The door creaks open. You half-expect something to jump out. A corpse. A member of the Phantom Troupe. Both?

But instead there’s just… a house. Just an ordinary house. With some of the lights on in the kitchen and a fake fireplace and fairy lights with orange pumpkins strung up in the entryway. Next to the coat rack is a table with an immensely large bowl filled with an assortment of candy. Chocolates and sour sweets and licorice.

A few feet in front of the entryway is a rack of--clothes? No, they’re colorful and strange looking. Costumes, you realize. Halloween costumes. But why…

Your heart thuds, once, twice, three times.

“I don’t understand.” Your mouth is dry. Something in your chest tightens as Chrollo gently pushes you forward until you’re in front of the costume rack.

His voice comes from next to you, but you don’t dare face him. You don’t know what expression he will wear and worse than that, you don’t know what expression is on your face right now. But you know that it’s something too vulnerable to share with him so openly.

“You said you’d never been able to hand out candy to trick or treaters, didn’t you?”

It takes a few moments to hit you, and when it does, your hands wring together.

“So you… this is…” Not some awful, nasty trick, but something kind and done for you? You don’t say it. You don’t need to say it. The disgusted, awful relief of it--the gently rising pleasant surprise--must be showing on your face.

He holds up a princess costume while your mind tries to process what’s happening, and you shake your head at it. Too sweet and colorful for your vision of Halloween.

“Don’t think too much about it, dear,” he says, thumbing through the hangers of costumes. “Just find something and get dressed. I’m sure there will be plenty of kids coming to the door soon enough.”

Kids. In costumes. Trick or treating.

At your--no, not your house, but maybe your house? In some way. Just for now. For the moment. For one one night--Halloween night.

That has to be good enough.

The witch costume is just the right size, but that’s no surprise. Chrollo has a shockingly detailed knowledge about your body; he’s even, with trial and error, mastered the art of nabbing nearly perfectly sized underwear across different brands. Bastard.

But you don’t think about that now. All you think about is how… spooky you look. How fun. How pretty, in that dark and morbid and delightfully Halloweeny way.

You forgot how this felt, actually: wearing a real costume. Not the mask you put on every day to survive co-existence with Chrollo Lucilfer, but a real Halloween costume. Something shiny and cheap, not meant to be worn more than a few times before you find a broken seam, sigh, and chuck it out.

In the end, you look like anyone else might, living in this house, dressed up on Halloween. A witch costume, complete with a hat and fake wart that you are sure is going to fall off your face within about 15 minutes thanks to some questionable quality sticker glue.

When you step out to show Chrollo, you find not Chrollo, but a vampire in his place. Okay, okay. It’s Chrollo, wearing his normal outfit with a thin black cape lined in red over everything. He slicked back his hair--admittedly you prefer it loose, not that you’d ever tell him so--and it looks like he applied a thin layer of white powder to dilute his pallor even more.

A vampire. Dracula. A bloodsucker. How appropriate for him. Not that you’d ever ruin this night by vocalizing that thought, so you bury it like a fake skeleton underneath the house of your mind.

“You look marvelous,” he says, when you come out into full view. And you laugh immediately. Because he’s stuck fake fangs in his mouth. The cheap kind that looks like dentures. They make him sound absolutely ridiculous.

He doesn’t take offense, or at least he hides it well. He pops the fangs out, a line of drool trailing after them and holds them in his hand. They glow a little green in the dimness of the house.

“Too much?” You only smile in response, and he drops them in the trash. “They were uncomfortable, so it’s no loss. I’ll pretend that I keep my fangs hidden until I’m ready to bite.” The last words were spoken almost too lasciviously, and hIs gaze seems to lighten then. Because of course he’d feel better about looking like a fool as long as he could turn it around on you.

You don’t have time to let this bother you, though, because--

The doorbell rings. A quaint thing. Ding-dong.

Is it possible for your heart to stop while you’re still alive? Suddenly your legs feel heavy. Suddenly your whole body feels heavy. Suddenly you can’t possibly answer the door.

Ding-dong.

“Go on, love.”

Chrollo’s hand is on your shoulder and for once it feels reassuring rather than terrifying. You let him guide you to the door, which you open with trembling hands.

You’re greeted by a group of small children dressed up, holding out pillowcases and candy buckets.

“TRICK OR TREAT!!”

You can’t speak. You forgot how to interact with normal people, normal things. No, no, it’s not just that. You want to cry. You’re going to cry. Because this is the first time you’ve ever opened a door to find smiling children waiting for candy on this most special of fall nights, a night when people can be anything, when the air itself feels magical.

You feel like you’re moments away from whirling around and running deep into the safety of the house when Chrollo touches your shoulder again. And his touch grounds you. Shakes you up. Snaps you out of it.

“O-Oh, I’m sorry!” You say, half-laughing, to the children who have begun to stare at you like a particularly curious bird in a tree. “Your costumes are just so cool, I was speechless!”

You begin to scoop handfuls of candy into their waiting bags and buckets. Most of them look eagerly at their growing haul and run away without another word.

One kid dressed like an oversized turtle yells out “THANKS!” before he, too, runs away. You look down the driveway and see that some of them have parents waiting, but most are traveling with friends. The turtle kid almost bowls over his mother, who looks back at the doorway. You expect her to wave and smile, but she only quirks her head a little at you before her son grabs her arm and drags her away.

You pay her little mind--it’s the trick or treaters that interest you, the way they happily shout to one another about what houses are giving out what, the shrieks you can hear when they are scared by electronic dolls that pop out when they pass a threshold.

What a lovely thing, that freedom.

What a lovelier thing, right now, for you to play your part in it.

There are no other kids running up the sidewalk towards the house, so Chrollo shuts the door for you. There’s a silence between you, until Chrollo reaches up and wipes away at tears that had just begun to make themselves known in the corner of your eye.

“Are you all right?” His voice is low, soothing. He doesn’t usually tease you when you cry. Maybe he knows it would push you even further away. You wonder, briefly, if your tears or his touch smeared your carefully applied witchy eyeshadow.

“Yes,” you say, when you realize he actually wants an answer. “I’m just…” How to explain the feeling in your chest? This warm, fuzzy feeling that only comes on Halloween and that feels amplified by the role you’re playing right now. “It feels weird,” you decide on. “To be finally doing this.”

Chrollo looks at you quietly. He nods, but says nothing more.

A few moments later, that beautiful sound returns.

Ding-dong.

And--

”Trick or treat!”

The night goes on wonderfully. You stay more or less by the door, though you occasionally wander into the living room to admire the decorations. You wonder how long it took Chrollo to put them up. Maybe this was why he was gone for the better part of the previous day, setting everything up so it was just right for you. The thought makes you feel… pleasantly tingly.

He thought of everything, actually. He even puts on a Halloween movie with the volume low, perfect for watching in between trick-or-treaters or peeking at from the entryway. While you’re handing out candy, you hear the microwave buzzing in the kitchen, and when you shut the door he hands you a plate with warm pizza on it.

It’s not the kind you usually get--you’re a pineapple on your pizza person, even if it might just condemn you to hell--but you suppose the options for pizza around here were different than in the city. It’s a little stale, too, but since it seems likely that Chrollo got it yesterday to avoid having to stop there on the way, it doesn’t matter. It’s not like some mediocre pizza was going to break the spell that the night was casting over you.

It was just… perfect. The air was cool but not terribly cold, and you felt like you could smell the leaves, the bonfires, the hint of apples and plastic pumpkin pails that seemed to rush through the door every time you opened it.

Chrollo makes light conversation. Not the exhausting philosophical discussions that he likes to pull from you, usually in the late hours of the morning, but light, fun, casual. He asks about horror movies, horror books. He asks what you typically dressed up as when you were young, and chuckles when you rattle off the exact list of your costumes age 4 to 12 in sequential order.

It feels, heaven help you, domestic. Like the kind of life you might have had, if Chrollo didn’t enter your life. Or if he wasn’t who he is, because he didn’t have to be out of the fantasy entirely. If he was the type to settle in the suburbs and buy a house with you and work 9 to 5 and come home tired but eager to see you, this could be your life. You would ask him to hang up the Halloween lights and he’d sigh but do it for you, because he knows you love it.

In return you’d promise to roast pumpkin seeds later that evening, and maybe even give him a kiss. The two of you could spend the night cozying up by the fire (a real one, not a fake one, perhaps you are too used to that luxury now--) drinking hot chocolate and making idle chit-chat.

His arms wrap around you suddenly, and you almost flinch as the cobweb of your fantasy is unknowingly stepped through. This close, you can smell the powder on his face, see the little dots of it that have caked on his skin.

“What are you thinking, dear?”

You look at him and for once don’t feel like telling him to shove it. For some reason, hurting his feelings right now would actually make you feel worse, not better. Maybe it’s because you feel like you’re on high; maybe it’s because he did all this for you.

“Just… that this is nice,” you admit. You smile at him, and it’s not forced. It really isn’t. “Thank you.”

Chrollo presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“I must say, my reward was well worth all this effort.”

You quirk your head, the gesture reminding you briefly of the mom from earlier before you return your focus to Chrollo. “What reward?’

Chrollo, surprisingly, pushes you a little bit away from him. A finger goes up to your chin and your cheeks feel heated at the sudden intimate touch.

“Seeing you light up like this all night. I don’t believe I’ve seen you like this before, not really.”

You feel silly. Not humiliated, but silly. This is the first time that he’s seen you happy, isn’t it? And you suppose, for someone like him, it must be some kind of treat for you to be happy. To be open. To not be hissing, metaphorically and otherwise, at his attempts to be around you.

It’s a little too much to confront right now.

You grab a slice of the pizza he left sitting on the side table, and take a bite. You chew through the cold dough. “It’s hard not to have a good time on Halloween,” you mumble, averting your gaze.

Chrollo chuckles at you, but lets you eat your pizza in peace. He takes up his own slice and chews, watching you look out the window, eager to see if more children come scampering down the walk.

You flick the porch light off with a sigh. The last trick or treaters have fizzled away, and the only people on the streets are tipsy people stumbling home from parties and the occasional person that you assume must be returning from a late night shift at work.

There’s a certain magic to this, too, but it’s different from the tingling atmosphere of Halloween evening. Now it is a fading feeling, the last whimpers of the night as life returns to normal in the morning.

“Shall we finish the movie?” Chrollo asks, and you nod. You may as well hold onto Halloween for as long as possible.

There’s still some candy left in the bowl, and you grab the whole bowl as you head into the living room. Chrollo follows you, turning off the kitchen light as he goes. That leaves only the dim lighting in the living room from the fake fireplace and the glow of the TV, which is playing the last few minutes of a schlocky B-horror movie.

When he takes a seat on the couch and pats the spot next to him, you don’t hesitate. You don’t feel the need to, though you’d normally try to make a bargain for agreeing to sit next to him so readily. Now, though, you slide into the seat with the bowl in your hands and set it next to you.

There’s only one chocolate bar left, and you impulsively grab it and hand the bar to Chrollo, who raises his eyebrows briefly before accepting it.

“These are your favorite,” he says. “You eat it. I don’t mind.”

Your fingers curl on your thighs, but this time you don’t dig into your skin. Instead you merely look at a bit of pizza grease shining from the reflective TV light. “I know, but… it’s…” The words come out slow and sticky, like candy stuck to your teeth. “It’s a thank you. For this, I mean. Tonight.”

“Ah,” he says. After a moment, he unwraps the bar. Suddenly half a chocolate bar is shoved into your line of sight, and you look at Chrollo before letting out a little snort and taking it.

Sharing food with Chrollo didn’t feel so awful tonight.

Lots of things didn’t feel so awful tonight, actually. Like being in the same room as him. Talking with him. Laughing with him.

And maybe, maybe it wouldn’t feel so bad if you scooted closer to him, either. Just because the movie was actually a little scary, a side-effect of the new environment and too much greasy pizza on your nerves, probably.

So you do. And he doesn’t say a thing about it and that feels amazing, because if this was your life, it wouldn’t be so extraordinary to sit thigh-to-thigh with your lover on Halloween night. It wouldn’t be so extraordinary to turn slowly towards him and feel a flush of heat in your cheeks, your chest. Heat that was accompanied by gratitude for the way he found this abandoned house and decorated it so fully for Halloween and got you dinner and let you be normal, so perfectly normal, for one single night.

It wouldn’t be strange at all, really, for you to lean in close and kiss him on the mouth.

Chrollo’s breath mingles with your own and it feels like your first kiss, though your logical mind knows it’s far from it. But it’s the first kiss you’ve given him. Your hidden kiss, then, special and secret.

When it’s over, you lean your head against his chest and let him wrap his arms around you. The sofa creaks and you wonder, abruptly, why there was a sofa in a house where no one lived. Why a house with no one in it would have a fridge stocked with food or a manicured lawn or toiletries scattered in the bathroom. Why some of the parents looked at you funny, even after your fake wart had fallen off.

“Chrollo?”

“Mm?” He strokes your hair, keeping your head against him.

“How… did you come across this house? Did someone move out? Or--”

You don’t vocalize it. And with Chrollo, you don’t need to. He knows how your mind works better than you do, sometimes.

You hear him intake a breath, formulating an answer, and suddenly shake your head.

“No. Don’t,” you murmur, feeling yourself beginning to slide into sleep. An easy sleep. A completely ordinary Halloween-night sleep, brought on by the excitement of the holiday, the thrill of the goblins and ghouls who roamed the night and were satisfied with fistful after fistful of candy from your hands and nothing else.

“Never mind.” You whisper against his chest, and let your eyelids close. “Please, whatever happened, don’t ever tell me.”

#yandere chrollo #yandere chrollo lucilfer #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere #afterwitch writes #aw horrorfest

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stinkysam · 1 year ago

Text

Vinsmoke Sanji - Oh boy.

Warning : none

Genre : fluff

Synopsis : "Sanji falling for an ftm „he / they“ reader and feeling conflicted not only because that’s the first time he ever realized he liked a guy but also because he never even FLIRTED with a guy (...) And all in all just being awkward and waaaaay overthinking this just because he’s very much a confused newly discovered bisexual as well as „first time trans ally“ and is trying his best. Extra points: Reader immediatly knows what’s up and is just like „lol. : )“ because he thinks Sanjis awkward fumbling is adorable, before he puts Sanji out of his misery and goes „I like you. Wanna go out on a date sometimes?“" - anon

Reader : male (he/they/you)

A/N : Part TWO

Sanji likes women.

That's a fact everyone knows.

Or thought they knew.

So you can guess his surprises when he realizes his feelings for you ; a man. Not believing he could think such things with you !

Why is he caring who you're looking at ? Or why does he suddenly care about the way your eyes shine ? Or how you smile and how cute it is ? Why does his heart beat faster each time you compliment his cooking, your hand gently resting on his chest ? You could probably feel the way it was pounding under your palm.

He goes through a small stage of denial. And thinks he's being an asshole because he still sees you as a woman. Which he doesn't but his feelings make him think he's being transphobic and he absolutely hates it.

Because you're a man and he sees you as such. So when he finally realizes he's not transphobic but just bi he relaxes a bit.

And now he's scared. Because what if you don't feel the same ? Right ?

Or worse ? What if you think what he thought ? That he's being a transphobe and still seeing you as a woman ? What if he starts flirting and you see it disrespectful ?

Wait, how does he even flirt with a man ?

He doesn't know how to do it with any man, or with you, for that matter. You don't flirt with a man the same way you flirt with a lady. Right ?

Would you like to be called handsome ? Or perhaps pretty ? Or is pretty too feminine and you'd prefer handsome ? Or maybe you don't mind and like both ? Would you like flowers ? He wouldn't mind receiving them so maybe you wouldn't mind either ?

God, why is it so hard flirting with a man ?

He's really uncertain so he prefers to start with compliments. Your clothing, your hairstyle, your fighting…

He wants to start small in hope you see it as him being serious with you.

When he eventually starts flirting he's still really shy and unsure, fumbling on his words and stuttering.

The sentence he had prepared for you leaves his brain the second he opens his mouth.

But then !? You flirted back ?! You winked at him and invited him for dinner at a restaurant on the island you stopped at ?!

W h a t ! ?

He feels his heart burst in his chest. Just simply exploding. BOOM.

He's at a loss for words as he tries to smile. How does one smile by the way ? He's so happy he forgot. He's so sheepish he almost doesn't answer, giggling a little before finally accepting your offer.

Suddenly he's hoping he didn't read it wrong and you really flirted back.

"No, because, they could've invited me to be nice. Or maybe he also invited the others as well ? What if it's just not us two and I come with flowers like a fool ? I have to ask them. But will I look stupid if I do so ? …" He thought to himself.

"Um, just to make sure we're on the same page, [Name], it's a uh… d-"

"Date, yeah. Tomorrow night." You say with a small smile, slightly proud of yourself as you look into his eyes.

You swear you could see the way the air got stuck in his throat as he stopped breathing.

"Okay." He started, still sheepish. "Good." And with that he turns around and leaves. He doesn't know where he's going but he's definitely going somewhere. He needs a walk to calm down anyway.

Not that the food was bad the other times but you ate extra good this evening. You had plenty of choice and even Luffy didn't know where to start.

#male reader #m!reader #ftm!reader #trans reader #one piece imagine #one piece #one piece x male reader #one piece live action #opla imagine #opla x male reader #opla sanji #opla #sanji x reader #sanji x male reader #sanji #vinsmoke sanji #vinsmoke sanji x male reader #vinsmoke sanji imagine

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ericshoney · 3 months ago

Text

Skipping School ~ Brothers!Sturniolo Triplets

Summary: Your friends pressure you into skipping school with them for your brothers to be at the mall at the same time, catching you out.

Warnings: swearing, peer pressure, teasing, nicknames, slight angst, fluff

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Oh come on you little goody too shoes, skip once."

You were sat with your friends at school. They were talking about going to the mall. Not at the weekend, now. Whilst you were suppose to be at school.

"What if something happens?" You asked.

"Nothing will happen, your being dumb."

You knew Nick, Matt and Chris were home in Boston for a bit and had promised you they'd take you out for dinner tonight and a late night drive as it was Friday.

With a bit more peer pressure, you caved. You had a free period last anyways so it couldn't hurt, right? And it wasn't like you'd see your brothers....right?

So you along with three of your friends, left school, heading to the mall. You kept looking back, waiting for the moment of a teacher to shout at you, but it never happened.

"Stop worrying so much."

You sighed as the four of you made it to the mall. You first went and got some food, eating and joking. You slowly started to relax, it was all going well.

"Let's go in there!"

You followed your friends into the chosen store, looking at some stuff. You weren't going to buy anything because you know you'd get questioned. You just followed your friends around, giving them your opinion if they asked.

Again, it was going well. You felt at ease as you walked around the mall. You thought it wasn't going to go wrong. Until you saw them.

Nick, Matt and Chris.

Your brothers were walking right towards you, laughing and joking as they carried many bags.

"Shit." You cursed, ducking behind your friends as you kept walking.

But your brothers were sharp. They could spot their little sister from a mile away. You kept your head down as you walked, until you bumped into someone.

"Hey kid." Nick called.

"Oh h-hey Nick." You called.

"What are you doing here?" He asked.

"Oh umm, shopping?" You replied.

"Your supposed to be at school." He said.

"Right." You whispered.

You looked up for your friends who had long gone, making your eyes well up with tears. How could they just leave you?

"No, no don't cry, sweetheart." Matt said, rubbing your shoulder.

"They left me. It was their fucking idea and they left me!" You shouted.

"Shh kid." Chris cooed as he pulled you into a hug.

"Let's go sit somewhere and you can explain yourself. Depending on what you say, we'll see if we tell mum and dad." Nick suggested.

You nodded as you walked with Chris' arm around your shoulder, to a little coffee shop. Nick ordered you all drinks before sitting down at the back.

"Alright kid, spill." Nick said as you all sat down.

You then explained everything. How it was your friend's idea to come here and skip. The peer pressure and teasing. As you told them everything, your brothers didn't look happy which worried you.

"I skipped a free period." You added.

"Well. Let's start simple, sweetheart." Chris said.

"Your friends are assholes." Nick said.

"Yeah." You agreed.

"We're not that mad, petal. Slightly disappointed that you still went along with it, but we understand peer pressure." Matt said.

"I'm sorry." You apologised, playing with the straw in your drink.

"We won't tell mum and dad." Nick replied.

"And we'll still take you out tonight." Matt added.

"But you gotta find some better friends." Chris said.

"There's a girl and guy in my science class, they are pretty cool." You responded.

"Then hang out with them!" Nick exclaimed.

You nodded and were glad your brothers weren't angry and knew you'd make some new friends on Monday.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags:

@mattsfavbigtitties @lgbtq-girl @onelesslonelygirlbieber6 @sturniolo-fann @riowritesitall

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beabnormal24 · 24 days ago

Note

Carcar + iron

I had so much fun writing this one! And I was particulary inspired by these two photos:

“Oscar!”

The sound of Carlos’ voice bounces from wall to wall as Oscar finishes buttoning his shirt to the last hole. He looks at his own fingers reaching the base of his neck in the reflection of the bathroom mirror, realising that the collar might be too tight, again.

He had bought the shirt especially for this occasion, Hattie sighing in exasperation on the other side of their FaceTime as Oscar rummaged through way too many shelves of shirts for his liking.

He had not tried it on, though, just grabbed the first one that looked like it could fit him and rushed towards the cashier because he had completely forgotten about that meeting at the MTC in about half an hour – a meeting that he would’ve probably missed if Lando hadn’t started calling him twice every minute.

So, he guesses, he might’ve put himself in this situation.

“We’re going to be late!” Carlos cries out from somewhere deeper into his apartment that Oscar guesses might be the kitchen.

He doesn’t spend nearly enough time in his own apartment, anyway. When he is not on the road towards yet another race weekend, he much prefers to hide himself into a burrito of blankets on Carlos’ couch, watching him type on his laptop about stakes and stock markets and other shits Oscar doesn’t really care to understand.

“I know!” Oscar yells back, quickly surrendering himself to the idea that he will have to leave the top button open in order not to choke himself in front of Carlos’ parents.

He does look smart, though, or at leats he thinks. Black slacks and light pink shirt should be considered smart, or at least classy – hedoesn’t really know. Usually, there is always somebody else telling him how to dress up for the formal stuff.

Or it’s just Lando lending him one of his suits with a shake of his head and a scrunch of his nose, refusing to let himself be seen with his teammate looking like that at one of their promotion dinners.

But it’s- whatever.

“Then why aren’t you hurrying up?” Carlos asks, his voice sounding dangerously closer than before.

Oscar makes quick work of taking the deodorant out of the mirror cabinet, spraying it under his armpits and silently praying that it’s the stainless one Carlos bought last week.

Suddenly, the door opens with a creak, soon accompanied the familiar sound of Carlos’ loafers on the slick tiles.

“What. Is. That.” Carlos says, and even though it should sound like a question, Oscar knows from his voice that it does not.

“What?” He asks, alarmed.

He shuts the cabinet close, looking at the label on the deodorant bottle. As it turns out, it is indeed the stainless one, musk-somethting-vanilla scented, and as he checks himself in the mirror, he does not see any stain under his arms.

“What?” He asks again, turning around to loom at Carlos, frozen under the door jamb.

Oscar is not at all surprised that his boyfriend, much like always, looks effortlessly hot: hair slicked back and tight linen beige pants hugging his thighs, the muscles in his biceps bulge deliciously as he crosses his arms over his chest, his white polo shirt hugging his arms tightly as they move.

He looks smart, dressed like this, with that hair and that watch on his wrist.

But Oscar looks just as smart… right?

“That.” Carlos repeats, not very talkative of him, making a half-aborted gesture at Oscar’s shirt.

Oscar looks at his own chest, widening his arms to stare at the way the fabric of his shirt stretches over his pecs. “It’s the top button, isn’t it?” Oscar asks, groaning. “I swear I thought I could manage it but it’s way too tight and-“

“It’s not the fucking button, Oscar.” Carlos snaps, exasperated. “It’s the entire shirt!”

“What?” Oscar asks, taking each side of the shirt and raising it up to his face. He gives it a sniff, just in case, but all that he can smell is the Carlos’ antibacterial softener, that he only recognises for how many times he has woken up curled into Carlos’ sheets. “What is wrong with it?”

Carlos pinches the bridge of his nose, defeated, as if Oscar is the one being completely stupid and not Carlos speaking all cryptic as always.

“Did you even iron it?”

“Ah.” Oscar shrugs. “No?”

Carlos forces him to take his shirt off in the middle of the living room and then sternly instructs him to not move of a single centimetre as he goes to fetch his iron and a microfibre towel to lay Oscar’s shirt on the kitchen table.

He feels almost shy, standing next to the couch and watching as Carlos moves around his flat with incredible ease.

“This,” Carlos says, motioning for the iron he plugs next to the stove. “This is an iron.” He explains, like Oscar is five. “You use it to take off all the- twinkle-winkle things on your shirt.”

“Wrinkles.” Oscar supplies, immediately regretting it when Carlos shots him a deadly glare.

“Do not correct me, Oscar.” Carlos says, impossibly serious. He checks the little red light on the iron, nodding to himself when he notices the button go off and pressing another to let the vapour go off at the top. “You should thank me for not letting you go out for dinner with my parents in a ‘wrinkled’ shirt.”

“I’m sorry.” Oscar says, genuinely.

He hadn’t thought about ironing his shirt at all, and he is ashamed to admit that most of the times, it’s not even his business to care. Usually, there is a PR person walking around ready to drown him in team kits to wear for the weekend. Other times, his personal trainer takes a look at his disgruntled state in the morning and hereby decides that he should take care of his clothes, at the very least.

Carlos, instead, looks completely at ease as he swiftly passes the iron over the fabric, gently stretching the flaps out on the makeshift board. He never lets the iron linger on the shirt for too long, swiping it gently on each wrinkle, careful to not fold the collar.

Oscar takes a step closer, tentatively teasing the previous boundary Carlos had imposed, but he can’t really resist it when Carlos looks so- so homey, and domestic, ironing Oscar’s shirt because he’s a messy teenager who grew up in a boarding school and then became a too professional athlete to learn to care about his own clothes.

He smiles, plastering himself to Carlos’ back, careful to not interrupt his work as he wraps his arms around Carlos’ middle, hiding his face in the crook of his neck.

“You look really beautiful right now.” He admits, whispering the words into Carlos’ shoulder.

Even though he can’t see it, he can definitely feel Carlos’ smile.

“Yeah?” Carlos says, wiggling his arse against Oscar’s front because he’s a tease. “Your beautiful wife ironing your work shirts for you? Do you want me to wear a cute little dress next time?”

Oscar groans pained, images of Carlos wearing a little black and white servant’s dress flooding his mind, his delicious big thighs put on display, the small spaghetti’s braces hugging his beautiful pecs, cutting in the middle of his perky nipples.

Perhaps he could not wear his boxers under the skirt. Or, even better, those lacy red panties he bought last time in Monaco-

“Do not get hard now, Mr Piastri!” Carlos admonishes him, turning his face to the side to give him another glare.

Oscar smiles sheepishly at him, but he can’t really help it when his boyfriend looks so handsome all the time, can he?

“We are already running late, you know how much my mum hates it when we are late.”

“But your mother loves me too much that she would only blame you.” Oscar counters back with a shrug. He knows that it’s true.

Carlos rolls his eyes to the ceiling with an annoyed huff as he turns around in Oscar’s arms, though the smile still toying on the corners of his lips betrays him.

“Here, take this.” Carlos tells him, thrusting the ironed shirt into Oscar’s still naked chest.

It is softer than before, carrying a slight warm from the iron that Carlos had so carefully used only for him, and Oscar can’t help but hug the fabric closer to himself for a second more, enjoying the feeling of familiarity in being taken care of.

He’s liking that way too much, perhaps he could fake being sick next time and let Carlos baby him around like when he got that flu. That would be amazing.

“Come on,” Carlos urges, slapping his bum. He grins coyly at Oscar, full lips brushing against his mouth. “If we are not late, I will buy that dress.” He whispers right before he disappears from Oscar’s arms, already out of the door.

Oscar doesn’t think he has ever ran this fast in his life.

#carcar #f1 rpf #carlos sainz jr #oscar piastri #small fics #pair + a word

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mphoenix-7 · 1 month ago

Text

Bitter Allies [Soap x Reader]

Chapter 15: The Cabin: Day 5 (pt. 6)

Summary: You finally catch a fish. Afterwards, you have a nice dinner with Soap and then do a little stargazing after, which turns into anything but stargazing.

Word Count: 14,875

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, swearing, strong language, animal death, smut, p in v, fluff, slightly rough smut, unprotected sex, sexual language, slight male masturbation, developing feels

A/N: Look at that word count… this is a long one. Lots of good stuff though! Also the drawing in this chapter is one that I did! Anyone, sorry for the wait, and please enjoy!!

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Bitter Allies • Part 15

Your options for clothing is beginning to really run thin. With Soap having destroyed one pair, and the bear shitting on the other, you only had two left. One was hanging out on the porch to dry, and the other wasn't the best for wading into the water. They didn't roll up very well, so you opt to wear the shorts you sleep in instead.

The sleep shorts weren't ideal either, but at least the shortened length would keep them out of the water, and they were dry. And now that you're back into some dry clothing, you can continue your fishing.

While you're back out in the water, watching carefully for what will hopefully be the last fish you try to catch, Soap is back on short making a fire. Every now and then, your gaze drifts from watching the water to check on the progress he's made. At least that's what you tell yourself you're checking on. You're not looking at him just because you want to look at him.

Though you have to admit, your moment from early was still fresh in your mind. As was the dream, your kiss from last night, and your little hookup a few nights back.

Thinking about each encounter made you angry with yourself but also made your heart leap in your chest. You liked it far more than you should, and with this last moment of weakness between you, you found that you didn't want to stop. Even now, after clearing your head, you almost regret listening to him. Part of you wishes you ignored him and kept going. Consequences be damned. It was almost like you were starting to fall for...

No! Absolutely not!

You physically recoil at that thought. You could not be falling for Soap MacTavish. You could not be starting to have feelings for this man. This guy who's caused you nothing but anguish during your entire time with the 141. That could not be what was happening.

But then what else could explain it? Soap seemed to think the whole reason that you slept with each other in the first place was because of stress. Stress couldn't be causing the continued make out sessions though. You didn't really feel stressed anymore. At least not because of Soap. Things had been great within the past twenty four hours.

So then were you really starting to fall for the Scot?

Sighing softly to yourself, you try to force those thoughts out of your head. Just tonight and then two more days. Maybe once you got out of the woods those feelings were go away.

"Oi! Lass! Catch anything yet?!"

You jolt a bit as Soap's voice reaches your ears, heart hammering in your chest now. You take a deep breath to settle your poor heart and then turn to look back at him, trying to act like he hadn't just startled you.

"No! And I won't with all your shouting!" You yell back.

There was no fish around anyway. Not big ones worth catching at least. You turn back to look at the water, debating if you should move and try somewhere else or keeping trying where you were.

"You want some help?" Soap asks, and when you look back at him, he's walked closer to the shoreline.

Huffing softly, you drop your stance and putting a hand on your hip. "I think I'm alright for now."

Soap shrugs a bit, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. I'll be right back then. Gonna run inside and get something."

You watch as he retreats back towards the cabin, only looking away once he's up the steps. Sighing softly, you turn back to the water, continuing to play the waiting game.

Not a minute later, you hear the cabin door open back up and can make out the sounds of him getting close once again. You don't think too much of it when you can no longer hear him, but after about ten seconds, you begin to feel as though you're being watched.

Frowning, you turn back around to try and figure out why you're feeling that way, only to find Soap seated at a tree close to where you were. He was still a good few feet away, but he's close enough for you to notice the black journal in his lap and a pencil in his hand.

"What are you doing?" You ask curiously, brows furrowing.

"Drawing." He says simply, not taking his eyes off the page.

It makes you shift nervously. You try to ignore him, turning your attention back to the water. After only a few seconds though, you quickly figure out you can't just ignore him, and you turn back to look at him.

"Why?" You venture further, catching him at a moment where he's looking up and out towards whatever it is he's drawing. It seems to just be the lake, but you can't really tell.

"Why not?" Soap shrugs, his eyes staying up a second longer before going back to his sketch. "I'm done making the fire. Just trying to pass the time while I wait on your ass to catch a fish so we can start cooking."

You glare a little at him for that.

"Shouldn't you be watching the fire?" You glance towards where the little blaze is going. "You know so we don't set the woods and our housing on fire?"

Soap waves his hand in a dismissive gesture, still not looking up at you. "It's not gonna escape that pit. Besides it's like five meters away. I can keep an eye on it and draw." He argues.

You keep watching him, lips pursed together nervously. It crossed your mind he might be drawing you, but you didn't want to ask him if he was. He probably wasn't anyway. Why on earth would he draw you? It wasn't like he...

"You gonna just stand there staring at me or are you gonna catch a fish?" Soap asks, making you snap out of your daze instantly.

Your face flushes hot, heart skipping a beat as your eyes meet his. Oh god. You'd just been standing there... staring at him.

"I—I wasn't staring." You stammer, trying to will the heat in your cheeks away. The corner of his mouth lifts into a smirk, and your fluster only deepens. "I wasn't!" You insist a bit too quickly, your voice pitching higher in embarrassment. "I just... got lost in thought, that's all."

"Thinking about what?" He asks, raising a brow, which makes your face burn hotter if that was even possible. You quickly turn to try and hide your blush, but you're sure he's already noticed.

"Nothing." You answer shortly. Why did you care if he was drawing you? It was keeping him quiet and away from you, so it didn't really matter.

Soap laughs softly from his spot. He doesn't add anything else, and after a moment of silence, you assume he's gone back to his sketching, though you stubbornly refuse to glance back and confirm. Your attention returns fully to the water, focusing on the little ripples on the surface as you steady yourself.

Now that you're standing still, the fish begin to reappear, swimming cautiously around your legs. You keep your breathing shallow, body unmoving as you wait. After what feels like an eternity, one of a decent size glides lazily toward you. Your heart skips in excitement, but you keep your composure, not daring to move just yet and risk scaring it off.

The fish swims closer, and the closer it gets, the more your heart hammers in your chest. You hold your breath, raising your spear ever so slightly. Remembering Soap's advice, you adjust your aim—just a little lower than your instinct tells you.

Then, in a swift motion, you snap the spear down, piercing the water's calm surface. At first, you can't tell if you've gotten anything, but then your spear starts to jerk, making you hold it tighter. The fish wriggles and thrashes against the spear, but you've got it.

"Oh my God! Soap! I got one! I did it!" You shout, your voice breaking with excitement. "Quick! Come here! I got one!"

You press down harder on the spear, driving it deeper into the mud beneath the water to ensure the fish won't escape. From behind, you hear a splash as Soap jumps in and charges through the water, closing the distance between you in seconds. His hand instinctively finds its place at the small of your back as he comes up beside you.

"You finally got one?" He asks, a little breathless from the sprint over.

You nod eagerly, feeling the fish tug and jerk at the end of your spear. "Yes! I got one! Hurry, grab it before it gets away!"

Soap chuckles, and you feel a playful pinch at your hip. You're so focused on not losing the fish though you hardly even notice it. "I don't think it's going anywhere, hen." He reassures you as he bends down to reach into the water to get it. His hand wraps around the flailing fish, the other grasping your spear shaft.

"Let up on the spear. I got 'em. He's not going anywhere." He tells you. As he holds onto the fish with one hand, his other hand helps guide the spear up, lifting it just enough to pull it out of the water.

"Are you sure you got it?" You ask, resisting just a little bit at first. You wanted to be absolutely sure he had your fish.

Soap glances up at you from his crouched down position, and instead of answering you with words, he stands, hauling the fish up out of the water with him. You gasp a little in surprise, watching it thrashing around a little before settling. It was a pretty impressive fish, or at least you thought so. To a fisherman it probably wasn't anything too excited or even that big. But for your first time catching a fish, you were thrilled.

"Oh my God! I caught that?!" You were grinning so wide your cheeks hurt just slightly.

Soap's grinning too, chuckling softly as he glances between the fish and your beaming face. "Yeah, you did. Not too bad for a first timer." He praises, turning the fish a little to inspect it. The movement makes the fish squirm, its scales flashing under the sunlight as it struggles.

"It's huge! It looked smaller in the water." You say, looking it over as Soap turns it. You can't help but admire how the scales shimmer with iridescent greens and silvers, the white underbelly glistening in contrast. It looks similar to the others you'd been catching earlier.

Soap scoffs playfully. "Huge? Let's not get too carried away now." He chuckles, and you shoot him a glare, which only widens his grin. "But hey, for a first timer, I'd say it's a pretty decent catch." He adds, forearm flexing as the fish gives a sudden, powerful thrash. It's almost as if the fish is protesting his words and proving you were right.

You smirk, folding your arms across your chest as Soap regains control of the fish. "Don't ruin this for me, MacTavish. I'm allowed to be excited—I've been out here for hours."

Soap chuckles lightly and gives you a half smirk. "Alright, I'll shut up." He concedes, still chuckling softly as he turns and starts making his way back towards the shoreline.

You follow after him with a smile, still silently celebrating to yourself. It was going to be so much more satisfying to eat all the fish later knowing you were going to be eating one you caught yourself. You couldn't wait to get them over the fire.

"Hey States." Soap calls back to you after a few seconds, pulling you out of your thoughts and making you glance up at him. He still walking, only glancing over his shoulder slightly. "You did good. This is a really nice catch."

You pause for just a second, his praise taking a moment to process. When it does though, a warm feeling settles over you. "Thanks." You say softly, surprised that him saying something like that meant so much to you. Maybe it was because Soap never gave you compliments.

"So do you wanna kill it?" Soap asks as you walk onto the slightly sandy shore, pulling you rather abruptly from the high you'd been on.

"What?" You ask, looking back at him in surprise. "Do.. do I have to?" You frown. You'd been hoping, since he'd killed all the other fish, he'd just finish off this one off too. For whatever reason, it made you squeamish to think about killing it.

"Well, no." Soap says, immediately easing your anxiety about that. "I'll kill it if you don't want to. Just thought since you'd caught it and everything, you'd want to finish the job." He shrugs, looking back over at you again, almost like he waiting to see if you'd to change your mind.

You shake your head though. "No. I can't. I'm gonna feel so bad." Sure, you were responsible for catching it, and you were going to eat it, but for whatever reason, it was hard for you to kill innocent animals.

Soap gives you a look, but he quickly gets to work on getting his knife out to end the fish. "So you can kill people for a living but not a fish?" He questions, poking the knife through the gills and making a quick and clean cut. You have to look away when he does it. It still makes you uneasy.

"It's different when it's animals." You frown, risking a glance back to see if he was done. He was, and he was just tucking his knife back into his pocket. The fish was now still, blood dripping out of it where Soap made the cut.

"Don't go on missions with Ghost then." He mutters, tipping the fish upside down to let the fish bleed out better. It wouldn't take that long or at least the others didn't.

Soap's words pique your interest. You're well aware of how Ghost is. He's a very "do whatever it takes to get the job done" kind of guy. The way Soap says it though makes you think he's got a story.

"Why not?" You venture, tilting your head slightly. It's a gesture that makes Soap want to spare you, and you can see the slight hesitation in his eyes.

"Let's just say... he has no problem with shooting anything that might compromise him."

As vague as he's being, you understand pretty well. You know Price has given you the advice to shoot a dog if it was going to bark and alert others to your presence. Ghost most definitely stood by that principle. Honestly he was probably the one who told Price that in the first place.

You can't help but make a face at the thought of having to shoot an animal. "That... that sounds like him." You nod, leaving the conversation at that. You were just going to be sad if you kept talking about it.

"So... When can we get cooking?" You change the topic to something more appealing.

The second your mind goes back to food, you instantly get hungry. Your stomach makes this a well known fact too as it lets out a low and long rumble. It's been at least two hours since you decided to go fishing, and you're starving at this point.

Soap laughs as your stomach growls, his eyes flicking down as if he expected to see if rolling like it did in the cartoons. "We can start right now. Sounds like you won't make it much longer if we don't." He teases, an almost playful smirk tugging at his lips as he pinches your side lightly.

You swat his hand away as he pinches you and glare at him, which only makes him chuckle. "You gotta learn how to keep your hands to yourself." You huff as you follow behind him.

"Says the woman who can't seem to keep her hands off me." He laughs, glancing over his shoulder at you and raising a brow.

Your eyes widen at his words, and your cheeks start to burn a little. "Oh shut the fuck up. You act like you aren't equally as bad. If not worse!"

Soap huffs softly at your accusation as he places now the now fully bled out fish one of the logs in the stack of wood he's collected. "So you're not denying it?"

You freeze for just a moment, realizing in horror that you aren't. Has your whole dynamic with Soap really changed that much? Your mind struggles to come up with something to say back. You can't just deny it now that he's pointed it out.

So you deflect. You let out a groan and roll your eyes. "You're impossible, you know that?" You grumble, trying to sound indifferent, though the heat in your cheeks gives you away.

Soap just keeps smirking at you. "Aye, but I'm starting to think you like it." He answers cheekily as he wipes his hands off on his pants.

"Absolutely not." You shoot that down fast. "I'm only trying to be nice to you so you don't burn my fish."

"What makes you think I'm cooking your fish for you?" Soap huffs. "I caught most of them. Hell I even prepped all them while you were out there splashing around in the water. You can at least cook your own damn fish."

He picks up his fishing spear from the ground as he talks and works one of the fish onto the stick. It was the biggest fish too, but you weren't going to argue. He did technically catch it, and he ate a lot more than you did anyway.

"Fine. I can probably cook a fish better than you anyway." You shrug, walking over to grab one of the pre-prepped fish from the little pan Soap has placed them in.

"You wanna cook them all then?" He asks, offering the stick with his fish on it over to you.

You roll your eyes and push his hand away before taking your own fish and working it gently onto the your stick. "Just cook your own damn fish, Soap." You sigh, moving to the opposite side of the fire to cook your own fish.

You don't look back up at him, your eyes focused on making sure your fish doesn't burn to a crisp, but Soap smiles over at you through the fire.

***

You watch as the flames gently lick up over the fish, cooking the outsides to a slightly browned colored. It shouldn't take too long for the fish to cook, maybe only about ten minutes. It's already dripping juice down onto the burning logs though and the smell is incredible. It's the best thing you've smelled in years, and it's making your mouth water.

Time is passing by so slowly though. The longer you watch the fish cook, the more your stomach seems to feel like it's cramping up. You're about ready to just take it off the fire and risk eating it raw, but the last thing you want to do is give yourself food poisoning and have to wait it out for the rest of the few days you're here.

You watch as another drop leaves the fish and sizzles on some of the coals. In response, stomach lets off a particularly loud and long growl, one that makes Soap peak up over the fire at you.

"You hanging in there, States?" He asks, a slight chuckle in his voice.

You let out a low grunt in response, eyes fixed hungrily on the fish that's still not ready. "Barely," you mutter, frustration lacing your voice. Soap chuckles again, only adding to your annoyance. "It's taking forever." You grumble, and with a sigh, you flip the fish over, to cook the other side a little more.

"Mine's done."

Your head snaps up at that, disbelief etched across your face. Across the fire, Soap's wearing a smug grin as he pulls his fish off the flames and inspects it. You squint, trying to get a better look, but from where you're sitting, you can't tell if it's actually cooked or if he's just messing with you.

"How the hell is yours done already? We started at the same time!" You pout, unable to hide the hint of envy in your voice.

Soap huffs, that irritatingly self-satisfied grin never leaving his face. "Because I know what I'm doing." He replies matter-of-factly.

He glances down at his fish with a contented sigh. "Oh, this is gonna taste so good." He mumbles, and you watch as he begins blowing on it to cool it off.

You roll your eyes and slump back down, watching as your stubborn fish continues to sizzle over the flames. "Shut up, Soap." You mumble, the words almost drowned out by the grumbling of your empty stomach.

"Need some help?" He offers, that same infuriatingly amused tone coloring his voice. It only makes you bristle further.

"No." You snap, sharper than you intended. "Stop being an ass."

Soap's brows lift slightly, taken aback by your sudden outburst. A few minutes ago, you'd been lighthearted and playful, but now— He sighs softly, shoulders relaxing. "Alright, alright." The teasing drops from his voice, replaced by something gentler. "I was just messin'. No need to get all hangry on me."

You shoot him a half-hearted glare before dropping your gaze back to the fish, your irritation simmering low. "I'm not hangry."

"Uh-huh. Sure sounds like it." He murmurs, but his tone has shifted—more genuine, less needling. "C'mere, States. I've got hot coals over here. They'll cook your fish faster."

You hesitate, glancing over at him. You're still not happy with him, but you're also so hungry. You'd do almost anything to get your damn fish to cook faster so you can eat. Reluctantly, you sigh and stand up, walking over to where he's sitting.

When you settle beside him, Soap shifts slightly, carefully laying his own stick with the cooked fish against a log. Once it's balanced, he scoots closer to you, his thigh brushing against yours. The feeling makes your heart jump despite the previous frustration you were feeling towards him just a moment prior.

"Here, put the fish right above these coals." Soap instructs, his voice low. He points with one hand and gently adjusts your stick with the other. His fingers curl over yours as he guides it into place. Instead of focusing on where your fish is being placed by the coals, your eyes stay glued to where his hand lays over yours.

"There. It'll be done in no time." He says softly, his hand dropping away and resting back in his lap.

You shift your gaze back to your fish, noticing how much more intense the fire feels over here. The heat that radiates off the coals feels hotter and almost makes your cheeks burn.

While you're focused on your fish, you feel Soap shift back away from you for a second. When you look, you can see he's reached back over to get his fish. The sight of it, browned, charred, ready to eat, instantly makes your stomach growl again, and you catch Soap glance over at you, a little frown creasing his forehead.

Then, without a word, he nudges you gently. "Here." He says, holding out his perfectly cooked fish to you. "Eat this."

You blink, surprised. "What? But... you already—"

"I'll eat yours when it's done." He interrupts, his voice unusually gentle. "Go on, take it. You're starving, and I don't want you passing out on me or anything."

You look between him and the fish, a small frown forming on your lips. It was such a sweet gesture, and so uncharacteristic of him. You glance up to meet his eyes, finding they were already looking back at you, his gaze tender and warm.

When you still don't make a move to take the fish from him, his features soften even more. "States, either take the damn fish, or I'm gonna make you take it." He warns lightly, and you can tell he's not mad, but he's being serious.

His threat puts you at ease, and you smile. That was more like the Soap you knew. "Thanks." You murmur quietly, accepting the stick as he reaches over to grab yours in exchange.

The second the fish is in your hands, saliva starts to pool in your mouth. You don't waste any time, bringing it to your lips and taking a big, eager bite. The moment the warm, flaky fish hits your tongue, it's as if every sense lights up at once. It's not perfectly seasoned or delicately prepared—it's slightly charred on the edges and a little tough to bite off and chew. But after a week of bland MREs and tasteless food, this is the best thing you've eaten in your entire life.

A slight smoky flavor from the fire lingers on your tongue, and the little bit of salt you added before is just barely noticeable. You take a second bit and hum quietly in appreciation, barely able to suppress the smile that tugs at the corners of your mouth.

Soap watches you for a moment, a soft and pleasant expression on his face. "Better?" He asks quietly.

You nod, still in the middle of chewing, eyes closed as you savor your current bite. "Yeah... thanks, Soap." You say mutter after a bit, feeling your earlier anger melt instantly. Maybe you were just hangry.

"No problem, hen." He murmurs sweetly, his gaze returning to the fish cooking on the coals and turning it over.

You glance back over at him, watching the side of his face. The flames cast an orangish glow to his cheeks and shadows to his jawline. It's strange how different he looks in this moment—maybe it's the firelight, or maybe it's just how at ease he seems, sitting beside you.

An unfamiliar warmth settles deeper in your chest, wrapping around your heart, filling you with a lightness you haven't felt in... you don't even know how long. It radiates through you, down to your fingertips and the tips of your toes, making you feel almost weightless.

You blink, suddenly aware of how much you enjoy being around Soap—how much you've come to look forward to these moments. The banter, the teasing, the soft simple moments like this one. The way he looks at you sometimes with something unspoken that you can't quite put your finger on.

You take a shaky breath to try and steady yourself, to shake off the warmth spreading through you, but it's no use. Being around Soap just... feels good. Better than you expected. Better than you'd let yourself admit until now.

He glances over, catching your gaze for a second, and a small smile tugs at his lips. "You alright, hen?" He asks, his tone light but laced with a quiet concern.

You nod quickly, looking away as your heart skips a beat. "Yeah, I'm good." You manage to say, though your voice sounds breathy.

Soap watches you a moment longer before going back to tending to the fish, seemingly unaware of the shift happening inside you. But you're aware. So painfully aware of how close he's sitting, of the warmth of his leg brushing against yours, of the subtle comfort that his presence brings. You can't shake the feeling that something's changed between you—you know something has. Something you can't quite name, but it's there, and it's only growing.

"There!" Soap's voice pulls your attention back to him. "All done. Told ya they'd cook faster over here." He smiles, blowing gently on the fish. He glances back to you as he does, noticing the barely touched fish, only sporting two bites, on the stick in your lap.

"How's the fish, lass? It looks like you've hardly touched it." He frowns. Knowing how hungry you were a moment before, he's a little surprised the entire thing wasn't completely gone by now.

You look back down at your fish, smiling a little. "It's really good. I'm just trying to make it last." You lift it back up to your lips to take another bite then, which makes Soap relax a bit.

"I hope it tastes as good as it smells." He says softly, turning his over to look for a good place to dig in. He tries to take a small bite but immediately withdrawals, making a face. "Ah, way too fucking hot yet. Just burnt my tongue."

Without thinking, you hold out the fish you'd been eating to him. "Wanna take a bite?" You ask, it taking you a moment to realize what you were doing. By the time you do, it's far too late to take it back.

Soap looks at you with an amused sparkle in his eye and he laughs. "Nah, I don't wanna get your cooties." He teases lightly, making you roll your eyes at him despite the smile making your cheeks burn.

"Soap we've had sex and you've kissed me how many times now? You definitely have my cooties already. More aren't gonna hurt you." You tease right back. It makes him laugh harder, and he even throws his head back a little as he does.

"I guess I can't argue with that." He says as he comes down from his laughter. "Alright, give it here then."

He motions for you to hand the fish over, so you hold it out for him to take. Instead of just taking it from you though, he grabs around your hand and brings the fish up to his lips.

As he takes a bite, his eyes flick up to meet yours, locking as his teeth slowly sink in. Your breath hitches in your throat as you watch him, eyes widened just the slightest. And Soap knows what it's doing to you. You see the corner of his lips twitch up into a smirk as he leans back, chewing slowly.

Your mind is scrambling for something to say to break this new tension that's formed. A tension that's not helping you sort through your newly discovered feelings.

"You.. you like it?" You find yourself saying, watching as he swipes his thumb across his bottom lip and sucks the juices off.

"Not a five star meal, but the best bloody thing I've had in a while." He chuckles. "We should have done this day one."

That makes you giggle a bit, and you relax slightly as you go back to eating peacefully. "I think I probably would have drown you in the lake if we went near it day one." You point out, remembering how absolutely angry he'd made you during the flight over and the walk to the cabin.

Soap laughs softly, attempting once more to eat his own fish and taking a tentative bite out of it. "I could see you trying." He says as he takes a small bite, making you narrow your eyes at him.

"Try? I totally could." You huff. You've never been allowed to spar each other before, Price wouldn't let you since he was worried you two would end up seriously hurting each other, but you feel like you can take him.

Soap huffs back and shakes his head. "States, you weigh nothing to me. I'm practically double your weight. Plus I'm taller than you. In water, I'm gonna win." He shrugs, taking another bite of his fish.

You scoff at him, wanting to argue, but he made a decent point. He'd have the advantage in water. "So you're saying on land I'd kick your ass then?" You raise your brow at him.

Soap gives you a side glance, then huffs through his nose and shakes his head, dismissing you easily. "Hell no. I'd beat you on land too. Without a doubt."

You roll your eyes. "You underestimate me. I could so pin you if we sparred." You say, with maybe a little too much confidence.

Soap pauses a moment, as if thinking, and then shrugs. "Alright. Let's spar then." He says, quickly catching your attention.

"What? Like right now?" You frown.

"Yeah, right now. Let's settle it."

"Oh..." You purse your lips together. Sure you were confident that you could take Soap in a sparring match, but maybe not in the middle of the woods. Or without mats. And definitely not with all the sexual tension between you lately.

"Maybe not right now." You say slowly. "We're eating, and I'm hungry. And tired." You shift a little where you're sitting, giving a half-hearted shrug. "It just wouldn't be a fair match."

You notice Soap beginning to grin as soon as the excuse leaves your lips. "Yeah, sure. Alright." He chuckles softly, leaving it at that as he settles back down to finish his fish.

***

The rest of the evening is spent cooking and eating the fish you caught. It was the most satisfying meal you've had since arriving to the cabin. It was going to be hard to go back to eating the MREs for the remaining few days, but there was also the potential to go out fishing again tomorrow. And hopefully you'd be quicker at catching them then.

By the time you're both done eating, the sun has almost set completely over the horizon. It's getting dark out, the only light coming from the moon and the fire that was still burning bright but slowly turning into only embers.

You sigh softly, your stomach feeling like it was ready to burst. "I ate way too much." You chuckle, resting a hand on your now protruding belly. "That was the best meal ever though."

Soap laughs softly as he finishes piling up all your scraps and utensils off to the side to be cleaned up later. "You ready to turn in for the night then, lass?" He asks, standing by the fire and looking down at you.

You hum softly in thought but then shake your head. "No. I think I want to stay out here a little longer. Disgust a bit before bed."

You really hadn't gotten the chance to enjoy the night air since you arrived. There was always something that kept you inside almost as soon as the sun began to set. It was such a peaceful night tonight too. You want to enjoy it and the bonfire a while longer.

Soap nods a little, and you watch as he goes back to the wood pile. "I'll put another log on for you then." He says, looking over the few pieces of wood that remained.

"Thanks." You smile, watching as he picks out a log and carries it over to the fire. He tries to place it gently as not to make the entire log pile collapse, but it's a vein effort since the second he sets it down, everything falls over, causing a bunch of sparks to flare up into the air.

You follow the trail of sparks up a little ways, far enough that your attention gets pulled to the sky. Above you, the stars are just starting to come out, and they're already so much brighter than what you'd ever see on base.

"Wow..." You breathe softly. "I never noticed all the stars you can see out here."

Soap looks up towards the sky as well, humming pleasantly. "It's pretty." He mumbles, and there's a brief of moment of silence that falls between you as you both admire the twinkling lights.

You almost forget where you are for a moment until Soap breaks the silence. "I can go grab a blanket and lay it out. That way you can lay down and not have to crane your neck to see." He offers.

You look back at him, warmth filling your chest at the sweet offer. You're starting to get used to this side of Soap.

"Yeah." You smile. "That'd be nice."

"Alright. I'll be back in a second." With that, he's off, walking back towards the cabin.

You watch his figure retreat until he disappears inside. Once he's out of sight, your gaze drops to watching the fire, a soft sigh leaving your lips. You find yourself hoping that he'll want to stay and star gaze with you for bit.

Before you can overthink too much about that thought, you hear the cabin door open and slam shut as Soap makes his way back over to you. In his arms, he carries the blanket from his sleeping roll. It was really the only blanket you had, but the fact he was willing to use it just so you could stargaze was a sweet concept.

"Where do you want it?" He asks once he's within ear shot from you. You're a little unprepared for his question and quickly start to glance around for an open spot to lay the blanket out.

"Oh.. uh.. maybe just right over here by the fire?" You motion to a somewhat cleared off area that's just a little ways away from the fire. You know the second you move away from the flames that you're gonna start getting cold, but hopefully you'll still be close enough to stay warm.

Soap gets right to work on laying out the blanket where you've requested it to go, unfolding it and making sure it lays flat. When he's done, he stands up and motions down at it.

"There you go." He says simply as you get up and move to blanket. Kicking your shoes off, you step onto it and sit down.

"Thanks." You hum softly, moving around a bit to get comfortable.

Soap watches you a moment, still standing off to the side of the blanket. "It's not a problem, lass." He shrugs dismissively. "Just bring the blanket in when you're done. And put the fire out." He adds, making you instantly look back up at him.

"You're not staying?" You frown, disappointment settling heavily in your chest.

Soap pauses, almost like he was surprised you'd ask that. "Uh.. yeah. I was just gonna go in..." He says slowly. "Did... did you want me to stay?" He asks hesitantly, uncertain.

"Well... yeah." You answer him softly. Your voice sounds so much more vulnerable than you expected it to be. "I want you to stay. Or I wouldn't mind the company at least. You know in case the bear comes back or something."

You're rambling a little, which just makes Soap smile. He looks down towards his feet as he does and then starts kick his shoes off too.

"Alright. I guess I can watch the sky with you for a little while." He agrees, instantly making any nerves you had die off.

"Great." You sigh softly, smiling as he settles onto the blanket beside you, leaving a modest space as he lays back.

You lay back on the blanket too, already able to feel the cool ground quickly seeping through the blanket and into your backside. If you had the thermal liner, it'd be much better, but you don't feel like getting up to get it.

A silence settles between you as both your gazes fixate on the stars above you. Even though the stars were the whole reason you were out here still in the first place, you find your attention is more focused on the man next to you.

"Did you ever stargaze back in Scotland?" You find yourself asking, keeping your eyes on the sky.

"Maybe a bit?" Soap replies, and you can hear the rustle of his shoulders moving against the blanket as he shrugs. "I mean the stars in Scotland are beautiful. But I don't think I ever did something like this." He explains. "What about you?"

"Not really." You chuckle. "It's impossible to really get stars like this in the city. Even out in the country they aren't too bright. But I dated a guy once who took me stargazing before. Really it was just to make out though. I don't think he really intended on looking for constellations."

Soap hums softly. "I can't believe you had a guy who wanted to date you." He mutters.

You shoot him a glare and wack his chest, which makes Soap laugh. "Ass." You grumble, though you're smiling too. "I'll have you know I had a lot of suitors back in America."

"What was wrong with them?" He adds, making you wind up to hit his chest again. He flinches and holds his hands up defensively. "I'm only kidding!" He says through his laughter. "I don't doubt you had a lot of guys lined up to date you."

"I can't tell if you're being serious or not." You huff despite the smile on your face. You settle back down into your spot, listening as Soap does the same. It seems like he's closer now.

"I'm being serious." He confirms. "You're an attractive woman, States. Lots of guys like you. Hell, there's a lot of idiots back on base who have crushes on you."

You raise your brows in surprise. "Really?" You've never paid much attention to things like that before, or at least no one's ever made it obvious.

"Yeah, really. Gets annoying, honestly. You know how many guys outside our task force have asked me if you're single or if I can set them up with you?" He scoffs at the end, almost like just thinking about it was as annoying as the real thing.

"Do I even want to know what you've told them?" No guy had ever asked you out, so you're sure the things he said weren't very nice. There was no way Soap had played the knight in shining armor trying to protect you.

"Told 'em you were a bitch. That you were psychotic, smelled bad, snored in your sleep. Lots of stuff." He shrugs, as if saying those things wasn't a big deal. You have to admit though that it hurt to hear him admit that.

"No wonder I had no idea anyone was interested." You mutter, the hurt coming through in your tone a little despite you trying to hide it. You hear Soap's head shift as he looks over at you, but you keep your gaze on the sky.

"You wouldn't have wanted to date those men anyway, States. All of them just wanted in your pants. I wasn't gonna just let them use you like that."

You pause, taking in what he said. "Why would you do that? I thought you didn't like me."

Soap scoffs softly. "I didn't. But I'm not a total asshole. You're still part of my team, and I'm not about to let some horny pricks hurt you. That's my job." He tries to say it jokingly, trying to lighten the mood a little.

You roll your eyes, but there was something sweet about the whole thing. You couldn't really be upset with him for scaring off men like that, but still. It still hurt he said those things.

"Lucky me." You sigh, trying to push past it. It makes Soap chuckle softly, but he can still tell you're unhappy.

Soap looks back up at the sky, a brief silence settling before you. After a few seconds, he breaks it.

"You know, now I'm gonna have to start telling them other things to ward them off." He says, making you glance over at him.

"Why's that?" You venture curiously.

Soap seems to hesitant a second before he answers. "Well... cause you're really not that half bad. I mean you're still kinda annoying, but you're not too bad either."

As back handed as it sounded, it was one of the nicest things Soap has ever said to you. You find yourself smiling and almost swooning over those words.

"You're not so bad either, Soap." You mumble back, watching as a smile settles on his face too. Your gaze returns to the stars then, and you feel a sense of peace and contentment settle over you.

You lay there in silence for maybe a minute longer before you turn to look at Soap once more. "Did you finish your drawing from earlier?" You ask.

"Ehh, mostly. I didn't have time to finish the scenery." He says, his gaze staying fixed on the sky.

You hum softly, trying to work up the courage to ask to see it. You're not sure why, but it feels so personal to ask about seeing his artwork.

"Can I see it?" You finally ask in a soft voice, glancing back over to Soap. He looks back at you, almost seeming hesitant.

"You really want to?" He asks slowly, and you nod, chewing the inside of your cheek nervously. "Ok. Yeah, sure." He nods.

Sitting up, he leans over towards where he last placed the book last, balanced on the wooden log he'd been sitting at earlier. "I'm not sure how well you'll be able to see it." He adds as he grabs it.

He makes a good point, it's now almost completely dark aside from the fire and a little light from the moon. You're hoping though that you're close enough to the fire to see most of the picture.

"That's alright. I still wanna see it." You tell him, sitting up and watching as he flips through a few pages to look for it. You wonder what else he's drawn since being here.

As soon as he finds it, he starts to scoot closer to you. "Here. This is what I was able to get done."

He hands the book over to you, and you take it from him. You have to angle the book a certain way towards the fire to see it, but the image slowly becomes illuminated.

It was a drawing of you. Out in the middle of the lake, spear in hand. The background isn't finished at all or even sketched out. The main focus of the drawing was you. And given the amount of time Soap had, which you assume hadn't been long, there was an impressive amount of detail.

Your heart skips in your chest as you study the image. Your cheeks are burning a little, but you can't help but smile. So he had been drawing you after all.

"You drew me?" You ask softly, eyes not leaving the page.

Next to you, Soap smiles a little. If you'd looked, you would have seen that his own cheeks were slightly pink. Though it could have just been the orange glow from the fire.

"Yeah. You were such a good model cause you were standing out there for so long." He jokes.

You huff softly and glare over at him. "I had a feeling you were drawing me." You grumble, turning your attention back to the drawing and studying more of the image. "It's really nice though. You must have sketched this in like five minutes."

Soap shrugs a little. "This took me longer than five minutes. I was working on it earlier. It's a little sloppy compared to some of my other drawings."

You glance back over at him. "Can I see the others?" You ask, and he chuckles a little before shrugging.

"Go ahead." He nods, and you start to slowly flip through his sketch book, looking over all the sketches he's done in the past five days.

A lot of them are sketches of the cabin and the lake. Some are half finished, others are very detailed. He's also drawn a few animals and a few things from inside of the cabin, like the wood stove and a half finished sketch of what looks like your dining area.

As you look them over, a little breeze picks up, making you shiver. It was starting to get very cold out, and despite the fire being close by still, you were getting a little chilly.

Soap hears you shiver and looks up from watching you flip through the book. "Cold?" He asks, and you nod.

"Just a little." You admit, trying to shrug it off.

His eyes drift down to your practically bare legs, hardly covered by the pajama shorts you were wearing. "You know, pants would help." He teases, making you shake your head.

"You mean the pants that are damp still because you tackled me in the water earlier?" You raise an eyebrow at him, which makes him laugh.

"Ah. Right. Well, come here then." He says softly, his voice dipping lower as he shifts closer to you.

Before you can even react, his arm slides around your back, guiding you firmly into his side. You feel the warmth of his body almost immediately, seeping through the fabric of your shirt, and you stiffen for just a second as he adjusts his hold. His hand settles at the curve of your waist, fingers pressing gently into your side, not pulling you in too tight, but enough that your back is now pressed to his chest and side a bit.

You can feel his every breath and every flex of his muscles with every subtle movement he makes. You glance up at him, wide-eyed, but Soap's already looking back down at you.

"Better?" He murmurs, his voice a soft rumble that seems to vibrate right through you. His leg shifts then, brushing lightly against yours, and you're hyper-aware of how solid and strong his body feels beside you. Every point of contact—his arm around you, the slight pressure of his thigh against your knee, the way his breath is practically on you neck—sends a subtle shiver through you that has nothing to do with the cold air.

"Uh..." You can't seem to form a coherent thought, let alone a response. All you can focus on is how close he is. The heat radiating off him, his scent— it's all making your head spin just a little.

Your heart hammers harder in your chest, the steady thump-thump-thump of it so loud you're sure he can hear it. You swallow, trying to clear the sudden dryness in your throat. "Yeah. Better." You finally manage to say, the words coming out quieter than you intend.

He gives you a small, almost satisfied smile, the corners of his mouth curving up just slightly. "Good."

You try to focus your attention back on the book, but it's pointless. You can't concentrate on the thing to save your life. You're doing everything you can to calm your heart down before it beats out of your chest. Just to play along, you absentmindedly turn to the next page of the sketch book, but you have no idea what's actually on the page.

Then his thumb starts to brush against your hip, and the simple motion sends a jolt of electricity through you, making your breath catch. Your heart pounds so loudly in your ears, and you're struggling to keep your breathing from increasing.

Soap shifts again, his thigh now fully against yours. He's so warm, like a living heater, though at this point it's hard to tell if you're warm from his body heat or something else.

Then you notice it. The fast thumps against your back. His heart hammering away in his own chest at the same rate that yours is. He's having the same reaction as you are. If you listen, you can hear him trying to control his breathing too. The sound is too choppy to be natural.

Knowing he's feeling the same way calms your own nerves immensely. Slowly, your body relaxes against his, and you begin to cuddle in closer to him. You tilt your head towards his just the slightest bit, and Soap presses his cheek down onto the top of your head.

You hear Soap exhale softly, like he's releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding, and his arm tightens around you just a fraction more, the motion sending a fresh wave of warmth through your entire body. His fingers splay out across your side, the tips brushing lightly against your ribs, making your pulse flutter wildly.

Your eyes slowly close, the sketch book forgotten in your lap. You let yourself fully relax into Soap and soak up this feeling. You know it's attraction, or at least part of it is. You've felt this before with other men, but there's still something more there. Your body feels electric when he holds you like this. You've never felt that way before.

"States.."

Your name leaves Soap's lips, making your heart flutter up into your throat. You carefully tilt your head up, eyes meeting Soap's slowly. Once they do, it feels like you can't breathe. His eyes are so heavy with emotion you can't even think.

His hand, cold but gentle, touches your cheek. It's such a shocking contrast that it reminds you to breathe. He cups your jaw, keeping your head tilted up towards him, though you weren't planning on looking away.

"Oh, fuck it..."

He mumbles it so softly you're sure you wouldn't have heard him if you'd been a fraction of an inch further from him. Even if you hadn't, his actions spoke for him.

He closes whatever distance was between you fast. The first brush of his lips against yours is tentative, almost testing. They're soft, warmer than his hands, and the touch is light enough that you barely feel it at first.

Your lips make a soft, almost inaudible popping sound as they part. You're left with just a ghostly feeling of where his lips were and his warm breath against them from his labored breathing as he gages your reaction.

You feel numb almost. Definitely like you're floating. Then a rush of emotion surges through you—excitement, confusion, desire, everything all at once. You feel a flush spread across your cheeks, a warmth that has nothing to do with the fire crackling nearby. You don't know what to say, don't know how to put into words what's racing through your head. So instead, you take a deep breath, steady yourself, and lean in.

This time, you're the one to close the distance. You bring your hand to the back of his neck, and your lips press against his, firmer than his first kiss, your eyes sliding shut as the world tilts on its axis. Soap stiffens for a heartbeat, a small, almost inaudible gasp escaping him. But then you feel him relax, his whole body seeming to melt against yours as he returns the kiss, his mouth moving slowly, carefully, against yours. There's still a hint of that same hesitation, but it's fading with every second.

You pull back an inch, just enough to catch your breath, and when you open your eyes, you find Soap staring down at you. His pupils are blown wide, dark with an intensity that takes your breath away. His lips are slightly parted, his breathing ragged, and the way he's looking at you sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

"This ok?" He asks breathily, his hand still gripping your jaw. He's nervous, you realize.

You give him a smile and gently move your fingers to the base of his hairline. His eyes struggle to not roll back as you play with the short hairs there.

"More than ok." You assure him, putting a light pressure on the back of his head and pulling his lips back down to yours. When they meet this time, Soap is smiling, and he almost seems to sigh against your lips.

You exchange a few more tender kisses but then something shifts. His hand on your waist starts to tighten, pulling you closer, and his lips press more firmly against yours, drawing in a quiet gasp from you.

The sound seems to spur him on. Soap's hand leaves your cheek to slip back into your hair, his fingers threading through it as he tilts your head just enough to deepen the kiss. Your own hands move to his shoulders, going between gripping them and cupping the sides of his neck. It's like every nerve ending in your body lights up the moment your lips touch, the sensation so intense it's almost dizzying.

You can feel the roughness of his stubble scrape lightly against your skin as his lips part against yours, coaxing your mouth open. The first slide of his tongue is a shock—a gentle, seeking motion that sends a thrill racing down your spine. You make a small sound, something between a whimper and a sigh, and Soap responds instantly. His tongue slips into your mouth, the taste of him invading your senses, and you find yourself pressing closer, desperate to feel more of him.

There's a soft, wet sound as his tongue tangles with yours, a quiet pop as he pulls back only to kiss you again, harder this time. His fingers tighten in your hair, his other hand moving from your waist to grip your hip, pulling you up into his lap. The motion sends a wave of heat crashing through you, your body arching slightly into his, and you gasp again, the sound swallowed by his mouth as he kisses you deeper.

Your hands move without thinking, sliding down to feel the hard muscle of his chest. From there, one hand slides up to the back of his neck again, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips, the tension in his muscles. Your other hand fists his shirt, knuckles brushing against the hard plane of his chest as you try to anchor yourself. It's overwhelming, the way he's kissing you—so intense, so utterly consuming. Every time you think you've caught your breath, he shifts, tilts his head, and the kiss changes, becomes something even deeper, more insistent.

You shift your hips slightly, wiggling down more into his lap. You slide right down onto a hard lump, and the feeling of it against your thigh and pelvis is unmistakable.

Soap makes a low sound deep in his throat, almost a growl, and the vibration of it against your lips sends another shudder through you. His hands move again, one sliding down your back, pressing you even closer against him, the other cupping the back of your head, holding you in place as if he can't bear the thought of you pulling away. You're not sure if you even could if you tried.

You feel his teeth graze your lower lip, a light nip that has you gasping into his mouth. He pulls back just enough to murmur something, the words lost, and then he's kissing you again, harder, fiercer, like he's trying to pour every unsaid word, every hidden feeling into the press of his lips.

It's not just a kiss. It's like a release of something that's been building for so long, something you've both been holding back without even realizing it. And now that the dam's broken, there's no stopping it. Soap's kisses are relentless, almost desperate, and you can feel your heart pounding so hard it's a wonder it hasn't burst right out of your chest.

You can't help it—you let out a small, breathless moan, and Soap freezes for just a second. His lips hover over yours, his breath mingling with yours as he stares up at you, eyes dark and filled with something that makes your stomach flip.

"States..." He whispers, voice rough and thick. He swallows, his gaze flicking down to your lips, then back up to your eyes. "You—"

Whatever he was going to say is lost as you lean up, capturing his mouth again. This time, you're the one pushing, deepening the kiss, your tongue sliding against his, tasting and teasing, drawing out another one of those low, rumbling sounds from deep in his chest. Soap's hand tightens in your hair, his arm wrapping fully around your waist, holding you so close you can feel the steady thud of his heart against your chest.

And then he's kissing you back with renewed intensity, the hand on your waist sliding down to your hip, fingers digging into your ass and making you gasp. He uses the leverage to pull you down harder against his bulge, and you're not sure if it's him or you, but your hips start rocking against him, bring a delicious friction to both of you.

It's dizzying, overwhelming, and yet you can't get enough. Your fingers slip up into his hair, tugging gently, and Soap groans softly against your mouth, the sound vibrating through you. You can feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles coil and flex, the restraint in the way his hands hold you, as if he's struggling to keep himself in check.

When he finally pulls back, both of you are breathing hard, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm and ragged against your lips. He's staring at you, eyes wide and almost wild, his chest heaving with every breath.

"Fuck, States..." He whispers, voice hoarse and raw, and the sound of it sends another shiver through you and a fresh wave of heat pooling low in your belly.

The way he's looking at you—like he's on the verge of losing control—makes your pulse skip, the intensity of it stealing your breath. His chest rises and falls rapidly, every breath a visible struggle to calm himself. But you can tell he's not calm. Not even close.

You can feel the tremor in his hands where they still hold you, the way his fingers dig in a little too tightly, like he's trying to ground himself.

"Soap..." You murmur his name softly, almost in a daze, watching as his eyes trail your body. He's barely holding back. You want him. Desperately. Every nerve in your body is singing for him to touch you, to keep going.

Soap's gaze flickers back up to yours. "I want this," he breathes, his voice low, strained. "I want you. So damn bad, States." He swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing with the motion.

You carefully bring your hand up to cup his cheek and brush your thumb against his rough stubble. His eyes flutter shut at the tough, and he leans into your hand.

"I want you too..." You breathe.

Soap's eyes open slowly, and when he looks at you, there's something vulnerable in his gaze. He swallows thickly, opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but hesitates. Whatever it is, he decides against it, his brow furrowing slightly before he just leans forward and captures your lips in a fierce kiss. It's almost like he's pouring all his unspoken words into it, the intensity of his grip on you saying everything he can't.

You mirror his sudden urgency for a moment, but then your hand comes up to gently cup his face, thumb brushing his cheek to slow him down. "Soap... wait..."

He pauses immediately, pulling back just enough to look up at you, confusion and concern flickering in his eyes. His chest is still heaving, breaths mingling with yours, but he stays still, waiting for you to continue.

"If we keep going, I want to do it slow. Not like the first time." You say gently, making his concern gaze soften quickly.

He leans in again, placing a few delicate kisses along your jaw, making his way to your ear. "Then let me take my time, aye?" He whispers, deep voice sending a shiver down your spine.

You nod weakly, eyes fluttering shut as he dips his head, mouth hovering just over the sensitive skin beneath your ear. His lips brush softly against your pulse, his wet tongue darting out and licking a small strip. "I want to feel every inch of you." He whispers, his voice deep and husky, making you whimper.

He starts to kiss at your pulse point, teeth dragging against the sensitive skin. "Wanna hear every sound you make... every little gasp and moan..." He trails off, his tone almost ragged now, as if he's struggling to keep himself in check. "Want to know exactly what makes you lose your mind, hen."

A breathless whine escapes you at his words, and you moan out his name. Not his callsign, his name.

"John..." You breathe, and his mouth stills, his lips hovering just over your skin. You feel his gaze on you, intense and searing, and when you force your eyes open, you find his face so close.

"S-sorry... just sli-"

"Say it again." He cuts you off.

"What?" You ask slowly, brows furrowed just a little.

"Say my name again." He elaborates, eyes growing heavy as he stares at you.

Hesitantly, you do as he asks. "John." You whisper.

His breath stutters, and for a moment, he just looks at you, something intense and almost awed flickering in his gaze. Then, with a soft groan, he dips his head, capturing your lips again in a slow, languid kiss that's completely different from the ones before. This isn't rushed or frantic; it's deliberate, controlled, as if he's savoring every second, every slide of his mouth against yours.

You sigh into the kiss, your fingers tangling in his hair, holding him close. The kiss deepens, his tongue sliding along the seam of your lips once more, and you part for him instantly, welcoming him in. He explores your mouth with a tenderness that has your heart skipping, each caress of his tongue sending pleasure zipping through you.

Your hips start to find a natural rhythm by themselves, rubbing against the warm hard lump that's been pressing up into you this entire time. Every gentle grind draws a soft but heavy, muffled sound from him, a deep, throaty hum from deep in his chest.

"God, States..." He breathes, pulling back just enough to press his forehead against yours, his chest heaving. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with desire, and the sight sends another wave of heat crashing through you. "I want to take my time, but fuck... you're making it so hard."

"I thought that was the whole point." You joke, a little grin forming on your lips. Soap looks confused for a moment but then a look of understanding crosses his face.

"You know what I'm talking about." He chuckles, shaking his head. His lips return to your neck, placing wet open mouthed kisses along your pulse point.

Your eyes flutter shut and you giggle softly, hands moving down to grip his shoulders. As amazing as his lips felt on your neck, you push him away. Soap looks up at you with heavy eyes, and you slide your hands down to his chest and gently start pushing him back to lay down. He stiffens up a little as you try, unsure of what you were doing.

"Let me, okay? Just... let me." You tell him softly, and you swear you can see his pupils dilate slightly. His muscles starts to relax under your fingertips, and he lets you push him back against the blanket. His eyes are fixated on yours the whole way down, hands sliding down your sides to settle on your hips and thighs.

Your heart is pounding as you stare down at him. He looks so good under you. You never believed in a million years that Soap would ever be nice to you let along let you be on top of him like this. You always imagined the only time he'd ever be under you was if you beat him in sparring. And he wouldn't be looking at you the way he is now.

There's something intoxicating about the way he watches you—like you're the only thing that exists for him right now. You shift your hips a little, adjusting your position just slightly so that you're more centered on his bulge. That movement alone makes his grip on your hips tighten significantly, and once you start grinding, he's a goner. The contact draws a low, rough sound from him, something between a growl and a groan, his head tipping back against the blanket.

"Fuck..." He breathes, eyes squeezing shut for a moment. His grip flexes, a barely restrained tremor running through his fingers. When his eyes open again, they're trained on where your hips meet. "Christ, States. You're killing me here." He growls out, his accent much thicker now.

You giggle softly, relishing in this power you have over him. "You're very impatient."

Soap rolls his eyes, his hands roaming your thighs a little as he continues to watch. "You would be too if a bonnie lass was grindin' on your dick." His hands drift to the hem of your shorts, giving them a gentle tug. "Now, how about we get these off you, hen."

You swallow hard, heart pounding in your chest, but you nod and rise up on your knees, letting him peel them down. His knuckles brushing against you as he goes, the sensation making heat pool between your legs.

He only manages to get them down to your mid thigh before he stops abruptly. "Oh hell's fucking bells..." He groans, his voice is little more than a husky rasp. "You just had to wear those, huh?"

You glance down at yourself, forgetting what you were even wearing. When your eyes settle on the delicate red lace of your underwear, heat rushes to your cheeks. It's the same pair Soap had grabbed when you'd been forced to repack your things. This wasn't something you picked out for him—hadn't even thought for a second you'd be here with him right now.

"I-I didn't plan this." You stutter, embarrassment creeping into your voice. "I just grabbed whatever was clean."

Soap hums softly, almost like he wasn't even fully listening to you. His gaze was on the red lacy pattern, thumbs tracing the hemline. "Doesn't matter." He mumbles. "These are staying on though. Gonna ruin 'em."

You can't help but scoff at him for that. "What's up with you and wanting to ruin my clothes?" You huff, stumbling forward just a little as Soap reaches around you to start undoing his pants. You hear the sound of the button and zipper coming undone and then feel Soap shuffling under you to pull them down.

"Less clothes you have, the better." He replies cheekily, his hands moving to your hips now that his pants are down. You know he's taken his underwear down too because you can feel his member's tip on your butt cheek, painting it with precum. "Hop off a second and get those shorts off. Leave the underwear on."

He gives your hip a little pat, and you do as he asks, swinging your leg off him and working them down your legs. "I like these, so play nice with them." You tell him, meaning to look at his face, but the some movement draws your focus.

You gasp softly, eyes focusing on where his hand is slowly stroking himself. He's completely hard, his shaft glistening from where his hand has smeared the precum. You feel dizzy from the sudden rush of arousal that hits you.

Soap grins as he watches your face, his stokes getting a little quicker and making a lewd wet sound with each stroke. "If I ruin them I'll buy you more." He promises, a smirk in his tone as he releases his member. "Now come here." He motions with his head for you to straddle him once more.

"You better." You grumble half heartedly, feeling dazed still from the image of him stroking himself. It only makes Soap chuckle.

Moving back over to him, you place your hands on his chest to help yourself balance as you swing your leg back over him. Soap takes your hips, guiding you back to hover over his member. You move your underwear aside for him, and he does the rest, his own hand guiding his member to your entrance.

He rubs it against you a little bit, trying to find your opening. Once it catches, he pushes up, and you wince a little as his bulbous tip starts to penetrate you. You hum a little when he suddenly pops inside, and Soap pauses, his thumb rubbing against your hip to try and sooth you.

"You alright?" He asks, his eyes struggling to look up at you instead of where his member is disappearing into you.

"Yeah." You nod. "I'm good. Just gotta go slow."

Soap hums softly, relaxing his hips to let you take over. "Take your time, hen. We've got all the time in the world right now." Even despite his sweet words, his gaze is heavy.

You sit up a little bit more to get a better angle to help him slide in. The new angle works wonders, and as you lift and lower yourself onto him, you take him a little deeper each time.

Every time you sink lower, Soap's breathing starts to pick up. His eyes are focused on where you're connected, his jaw tense and his hands beginning to grip your hips. By the time you're fully seated on him, he looks like he's barely hanging on.

"Fuck..." He groans, his head falling back as you pause to adjust to him. "You're squeezin' me so tight, States. Gonna make me blow before we even get started." He chuckles breathily.

You smile down at him. "Want me to climb off for a moment so you can gather yourself?" You ask, teasing attempting to lift your hips.

You don't make it an inch up before Soap slams you back down. "Do you fucking dare." He all but growls, making you giggle again. "Start moving. Otherwise I'm flipping us." He threatens.

You roll your eyes, but his threat gets you moving. You start grinding your hips, setting a slow and smooth rhythm. It feels nice, and Soap seems to be enjoying it too. His eyes fall shut after the first few rocks, and he a soft groan leaves his lips.

After a little while, you switch up the angle, leaning forward a bit and placing your hands on Soap's chest once more. This angle makes him brush against a whole different spot inside you, pulling a moan from your lips.

Soap's eyes snap open instantly as the sound leaves your lips, and your eyes lock together. You keep rocking gently, his hands pushing and pulling at your hips to help with the motion. His gaze is so intense, and the feeling of his member and rough pubic hairs against your clit are pushing you towards the edge already.

Your body starts to shake and you squeeze your eyes shut as the burning in your clit intensifies. "Fuck... Soap..." You whisper, panting softly as your gentle rocks turn a little more desperate.

"You gonna come for me?" He asks, his voice deep and accent thick. "Almost there States, just keep rocking those pretty hips."

He coaxes you, his hips now moving under yours, thrusting along with each movement you make.

You moan again, arms growing weak, which forces you to lean down onto your elbows, closer to Soap. His lips on your throat the second you're within reach, kissing and nipping at the tender skin, hands still digging into the flesh of your hips.

"Come on, lass. You can do it. Give me one. I'm right behind ya." He groans against your throat, his hips starting to snap up.

That's all it takes. You grip his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as the coil of pleasure tightens almost painfully low in your belly. Your entire body tenses, each thrust from Soap pushing you closer and closer until you can't hold it anymore. Your entire body tenses and then relaxes as a wave of pleasure washes over you.

A choked cry tears from your throat as you shatter around him, your body arching against his as an orgasm rips through you.

"Ahhh! John—! I'm.. I'm-" His name spills from your lips in a broken sob as your whole body pulses with pleasure. At the same time, Soap starts to snap up into you a little hard, drawing even more cries out of your lips.

It's overwhelming, mind-numbing, and all you can do is gasp and writhe atop him, every nerve ending alight as his hips continue to ram up into you.

You can hear Soap panting under you, his breath hitching every time your walls convulse around him. "Fucking hell. That's it States... that's it..." Soap pants, his eyes squeezing shut as your walls clench and flutter around him.

"Fuck! I'm gonna come!" His voice is strangled, almost hoarse. His thrusts turn into stuttering jerks as he nears his own release. "Don't stop, States! Fuck I'm so close..."

You take over, hips grinding almost wildly against him. You're starting to get overstimulated, but you don't care. You want to get him off.

"Come on, Johnny... come for me." You say through gasps, gripping his shoulders tightly as you watch his face twist into pleasure.

Soap groans loudly, his hips jerking up suddenly. He buries himself as deep as he can go, your name leaving your lips in a strangled groan. "Fuck! (Y/n)! I-I gonna.. I-"

His whole body tenses beneath you, a low, guttural groan rumbling in his chest as he spills inside you. You can feel each thick of rope shoot up into you, his length twitching and throbbing as he empties himself.

Then his hips fall back down against the blanket, and you collapse on top of him, burying your face into the side of his neck. He throws an arm around you, and for a moment, neither of you move, both caught in the aftershocks, riding out the last shivers of pleasure together.

"God, States..." He murmurs breathlessly, his fingers lazily tracing soothing patterns on your lower back. His chest heaves beneath yours, both of you still panting, bodies slick with sweat and utterly spent. He presses a lingering kiss to your temple, his lips soft and tender against your flushed skin. "Y'alright, hen?" He asks gently, voice hoarse with exhaustion.

You manage a weak nod, smiling against his neck. "Yeah... I'm good." You whisper, voice still trembling a little. "Really good."

He huffs a small, breathless laugh, the sound vibrating through his chest. "Glad you enjoyed yourself." He sighs, sounding content.

You hum gently in response, a small smile on your lips. The two of you stay like that for a while, legs tangled and wrapped up in each other's arms. His thumb continues its lazy circles along your spine, and you let out a contented sigh, relishing in the warmth and feeling of his heart beat becoming steady under your fingers.

Then he shifts slightly, and you hear him huff a breathy chuckle. "So much for stargazin', huh?" He teases softly, his voice laced with a playful warmth.

You snort. "Yeah, you're just as bad as the last guy who wanted to go stargazing with me." You can't help but grin, remembering your story from earlier. "Guess I'll never to be able to stargaze."

"Eh, we'll just have to make sure you're on the bottom next time." He replies cheekily, a grin spreading across his face.

You roll your eyes at him, but you can't help but pause. "Next time?" You echo, face turning a little more serious.

Soap gazes up at you, a soft chuckle leaving his lips. "Well let's be honest, there's been a lot of sexual tension between us lately. And with the history we have of having tension with each other, I'm sure there will be more."

You huff softly. "Almost sounds like you're hoping there will be more tension."

Soap grins at you. "I wouldn't mind it if it meant a pretty lass like you will bounce on my lap." He teases, reaching down to pinch your butt.

You blush a little at his words and then jolt in surprise as he pinches you, a little squeak leaving your lips. The movement makes both of you moan in discomfort, bodies still very sensitive. Once the overstimulation settles, you look back down at him.

"So... you would want to do this again?" You ask slowly, curiously.

Soap's grin softens, and he shrugs one shoulder. "Aye... I, uh, wouldn't mind it," he mutters, gaze dropping. "This. Us." He swallows, hesitating. "It's... nice. I wouldn't mind spending more time with you."

His voice is quiet, almost tentative, and you find yourself staring at him, caught off guard by the sudden vulnerability in his words. It's rare to see him like this, so unsure and a little shy.

"Yeah... I wouldn't mind that either." You smile down at him, your words seeming to make him relax.

Soap smiles back at up you, his mouth opening to say something, but a shiver from you makes him pause. Now that you've come down from the high of having sex, the cool night air is beginning to bite at your sweat slicked skin. His brows furrow a bit, and he takes in the feeling of the goose pimpled skin of your thighs.

"Getting cold, lass?" He murmurs.

"Yeah... just a little." You admit, your shaky voice betraying you.

He hums thoughtfully and gives your hip a gentle squeeze. "Let's head inside then, yeah? Don't want you freezin' out here." He chuckles, rubbing your legs softly to try and warm you up a little.

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea." You chuckle, only now realizing that it's pitch black out. The fire has died down significantly, leaving only the moonlight.

You place your hands on Soap's chest and sit up, entire body feeling heavy. Your legs especially feel weak as you move them under you to lift yourself off him.

Your slow movements make Soap chuckle softly, his hands moving to your hips to help you up. "Legs feeling a little weak there?" He grins, helping to lift you off his cock.

There's a soft pop as his cock slips out of you, and you wince at the odd sensation. Your entire space between your legs was sticky and sore.

"Maybe." You huff softly, even as you rely on Soap to help move you off him. He just rolls his eyes and hands you your shorts.

Once you're seated beside him, you try to clean yourself up best you can before moving your underwear back into place. Meanwhile, Soap is fixing himself up too. He's tucked himself back into his underwear, pulled his pants back up, and stood up.

He looks down at you, watching as you put your shorts back on. "Head on in, lass." He tells you softly once they're on. "I'll clean up out here, put the fire out. You head inside and clean up."

"I can help." You offer, making him smile as he holds out a hand to help you up. You take it gratefully, letting him pull you to your feet. "I can get the water to put out the fire."

Soap watches you take two wobbly steps and then laughs softly. "No, it's alright, hen." He insists, grabbing your wrist to stop you. "Besides, by the time I'm done here you might have just made it to the steps." He teases, noticing your slowed pace.

He's greatly exaggerating your speed. You're not that slow, but you get the feeling he's not gonna let you help. You're afraid his next move was gonna be carrying you inside, so you cave.

"Alright." You sigh. "I'll head in. See you in a bit." You chuckle, making your way back to the cabin.

Soap watching you leave, a grin on his face as he takes a moment to admire your little post sex waddle. "Be in in a minute!" He calls after you before getting to work.

It doesn't take you nearly as long to get to the cabin as Soap seemed to imply. Once inside, the first thing you do is change out of your soiled red panties and try to freshen up a little better. Then you get a fire going in the wood stove and peak out the window to see how Soap was doing. By the time you look, the fire is out, and he's on his way back.

Moving to your bed, which is still right next to his, you wait for him come in. A second or so later, the door opens and slams shut, and his heavy footfalls come to the bedroom.

He steps into the room and shuts the door, glancing over at you and smiling a bit. The blanket you were laying on earlier is rolled up and under his arm.

"Surprised to see you made it into bed." He jokes, dropping the roll onto your cot before moving back to the door to kick his shoes off.

You huff softly, taking the roll from him as he drops it off. "We're gonna have to go a lot more rounds if the goal is to paralyze me." You mumble, unfolding the blanket and trying to spreading it out over the cots.

Soap hums deeply from the door way, glancing back at you. "Don't tempt me, States. I'll take you again right now."

Your heart jumps in your chest. His words excite you way too much. "I just put on fresh underwear. You can wait till morning." You joke, which makes him laugh.

"First thing it is then." He chuckles, starting to get himself ready for bed. Which really just involved him stripping down to nothing but his underwear. You watch as he pulls his shirt off over his head.

"You waiting on me?" He asks, glancing back over as you once it was off. He noticed that you hadn't laid down yet.

You shrug a little. "Yeah, pretty much. I've gotten used to hearing you snore at night. Can't sleep without it now."

That makes Soap scoff as he tosses his shirt on the floor. "I don't snore." He claims, undoing his pants, stepping out of them, and kicking them aside. "You're the one who snores."

You roll your eyes, watching as he walks over to you. "I'll ask Ghost when we get back. He'll agree with me that you snore." You shoot back, shrinking away just a touch as he hovers over you a bit.

There's an amused grin on his face as he takes your chin gently. "Brat." He mutters, surprising you by placing a quick peck to your lips. You hadn't been expecting that at all.

Feeling flustered, your gaze drops as you try to collect yourself, though you quickly become distracted. You've never noticed it before, but Soap's chest is littered with scars. It makes sense given his profession, but the red firelight from the stove seems to accent them more.

"Wow..." You breathe, absentmindedly reaching out to trace one. "You've got so many." You whisper, making Soap drop his hand from your chin and look down at where your fingertips traced along a long white scar on his ribs.

"Yeah." He mutters. "My job is... pretty dangerous I guess." He shrugs, continuing to watch your fingers roam without stopping them.

"Are they all from your time in the service?" You ask, looking back up at him. You've only collected a few from your time in the army. Your only non-service related scar was one on your knee from falling off your bike as a kid.

Soap shrugs a little. "Most of them. Not all of them though." He answers you, stepping away from your touch to crawl over you and onto his cod. Your bed squeaks its horrid melody as he does, and you wince at the grading sound.

Once he's settled on his cot, and once it's silent, you look back at him. The firelight illuminates just one section of his face, showing off the long jagged scar on his chin. Gently, you reach out and touch it, making Soap quickly meet your gaze.

"How'd you get this one?" You ask softly, thumb tracing the faded silver-white line.

Soap seems to tense the second you touch it, his gaze locked onto your face. When the question leaves your lips, he sighs and takes your hand, moving it away from his face.

"It's a long story, hen." He sighs, his hand holding yours in his lap. He stares down at it instead of looking at you.

"We've got all night." You reason, which makes his lips twitch the slightest bit into a smile.

"It's also a sad one." He adds, his deep voice just above a whisper. It makes you pause, and you quickly notice the slumped posture he has suddenly.

"I'm a very empathetic person." You add softly, which makes him laugh softly. "But we also don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." You add.

Soap is silent for a moment, almost as if he's debating if he wants to talk or not. After a few minute long seconds, he finally sighs. "My... my childhood wasn't the best, States..."

@the-faceless-bride @venavanup @hotthankss @daemondoll @thepowers-kat-be

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4ranghaes · 5 days ago

Note

hi there i hope you’re having a wonderful morning/day/evening! ^^ i was curious… what do we think about sworn qenemy eric an choking/pushing your face into the mattress (and a little degradation never hurt no one).. maybe one day he just snaps or something along those lines… if ur cm uncomfy w this of course don’t answer. anyways have a good day/morning/night regardless ☺️☺️

a/n - heya anon :P sorry it took me so long to get to this i hope you enjoy!!!

eric sohn x reader [smut, fem!reader, brother’s best friend!eric, seems to be set in high school? idk why i’m kind of thinking of LA!eric as i write this]

warnings: hate sex, degradation, choking, kinda dub!con but im implying sexual tension/buildup between the two

18:50 - “eric, what are you doing here?”

he rolled his eyes, watching as you entered the kitchen, “don’t get all annoying with me, you know you love it when i’m around.”

“what do you mean don’t get all annoying?! i think it’s fair enough to ask why you’re in my fucking house, eric,” you hissed, “unless you’ve forgotten, you actually don’t fucking live here. you’re fucking always here, eating our food, watching our tv…”

“sorry your parents like seeing a child who is actually going somewhere with his life,” he smirked cockily, getting a carton of orange juice out the fridge and drinking straight from the bottle. you grimaced.

“yeah, the fucking mcdonalds dishwasher station,” you scoffed, moving closer to your brother’s best friend, grabbing his face with your hand as you pulled him to look at you, “eric, let’s face it. you come round here, swinging your fucking dick around in everyone’s face, tryna give us all of this bullshit about your grades and your future, but actually, none of it matters. you’re only here because your parents don’t fucking want you around! well guess what, sohn, no one here does either.”

“yeah you’d fucking love it if i was swinging my dick around,” he whispered, his face still in your grasp as he raked his eyes over your body.

you made a noise of disgust, rolling your eyes and turning to walk away when eric grabbed your hips, pressing you against the kitchen counter. you felt his stiffening length grinding against your ass.

“god,” he hissed, his touch bruising on your hips, “so annoying but such a great ass.”

“s-stop!” you exclaimed, “eric! m-my brother.”

eric smirked, leaning his body into yours, his lips grazing the shell of your ear as he whispered, “he’s at work. and i know for a fact that your parents are out late tonight. so what’s stopping you, princess?”

you fought out of his grasp, scoffing as you turned to look at him, an unbelieving look on your face. “i would never fuck you, eric. you little stuck up prick.”

eric smirked, “yeah, you would. ‘cause you’re a little slut.”

you tried to look offended, tried to hide how much that turned you on.

“i see you,” he murmured, following after you as you started backing out of the room, “you always are on at me, giving me insults and little speeches about how pathetic i am. you’re the pathetic one here, though, doll; i see you wearing less when i’m round, i see you bending over right in front of me, i see the eyes you give me at dinner when you’ve had a few too many.”

you laughed, rolling your eyes as you opened your mouth to reply. before you could get any words out, you found your back against the wall, eric’s hand moving to sit on your throat heavily. you swallowed.

“i also heard you, you know,” he whispered, his face millimetres from yours, “touching yourself late at night when no one else is awake. such a dirty fucking girl, aren’t you? whimpering under that vibrator.”

you whimpered involuntarily as eric let go of your throat. he walked away, entering your bedroom and looking around. you followed after him, after snapping out of your horny daze. “has to be around here somewhere, right?”

“eric, stop,” you scoffed, laughing nervously. you swallowed, swearing internally at your fucked up decision making before continuing on, “why would you need a vibrator, anyway? this looks like plenty.”

you moved towards him, cupping the bulge that had formed at the front of his jeans. eric shivered at your touch, a dirty smirk covering his face.

“i fucking knew it,” he hissed, grabbing your body and throwing you onto your bed, “you little slut. just waiting for the moment i could get into your pants, huh? how long have you been pining over me, you dirty little girl.”

you were laying on your stomach, feeling eric stood behind where you were laid, edging closer and closer until he was flat against your body, he held the back of your neck with one hand, ripping off your shorts and panties with the other, revealing your dripping cunt to him. he chuckled deeply, swiping a finger through the wetness.

“i’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever hated me,” he teased, his voice right behind your ear as he pressed soft kisses to the back of your head, juxtaposing his hard cock slamming into your body pretty much all at once.

you let out a loud whine, bucking your hips wildly and clenching around his thick length. you tried to move your head, but eric’s hand was ruthless around your neck, your face smushed against the mattress.

“yeah you fucking like that, don’t you?” he hissed, and once you’d stopped clenching he pulled his hips back before fucking into you at speed, “fucking cock slut, taking it all for me. take it! god!”

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moonpedri · 1 year ago

Text

matching.

summary: though it was spontaneous, you decide to tag along to ibiza when your best friend and her boyfriend invite you. the only problem was his little brother, barcelona's number 8, pedri, and his red swim shorts.

pairing: pedri x reader

genre: fluff, smut (suggestive)

warnings: making out, petting, swearing, pedri is a little shit

word count: 3.2k+

a/n: i orginally had this planned as a little imagine. if you've read honey, you may remember a beach scene being mentioned very briefly. and since i recently got a similar request, i fleshed everything a little more out and birthed out this big baby lmao. hope you enjoy!!🤍

PS: while proof-reading i noticed that i completely messed up the timelines, this fic actually happens before honey and not after, but oh well. 😭 this is super annoying but i liked the way this fic turned out so deal with it pls 🥺i may turn this into a little ibiza trip series with multiple parts and other places!!

────────────

It is the middle of summer and the sun was blazing unforgivingly over you that not even your sunshade could help you escape from the heat.

You look at your friends over the rim of your sunglasses, as some of them currently play around in the water. The radio stations all reported well above average numbers for the coming weeks and so naturally your friends would want to go on vacation somewhere near the beach.

Originally you had nothing special planned for the summer, but since your best friend Sofía is dating Fernando González, who just happens to be the older brother of Pedri González, Barcelona's young star-midfielder, you somehow happened to get dragged along to Ibiza.

This wasn't a rare occasion, because ever since Sofía started dating Fernando, you ended up with this whole new lifestyle consisting of football matches, special events, galas and travel.

And with FC Barcelona winning LaLiga and the season ending, all the players want to make the most off their freetime.

"Fer wants to book the tickets, __, you're coming with, right?", Sofía asked you last week. It was super spontaneous and honestly you were a bit annoyed that you got asked so late, giving you no time to prepare or clear your schedule (not that you had much written on it anyways lol)

But you would also lie if the idea of going to Ibiza didn't excite you. You always wanted to go to the infamous "party" island, but it was a costy dream - one you couldn't afford. Well, until now.

So you agreed and found yourself only 5 days later at your dream destination. One of the perks of having a friend like Sofía is that with trips like these, you didn't have to pay a cent. As a close friend, the whole thing basically got financed for you. Only shopping expenses and maybe food you had to cover yourself - of course.

The single downside of it all was the fiancier of it all himself: Pedri.

Ironic, right?

But there was no way you couldn't feel that way towards him. He is simply infuriating. When the two of you were introduced to each other over dinner at their home, Pedri wasted no time trying to subtly smooth his way into your pants.

It was almost unnoticeable to be honest and you know no one paid attention, but you did. You noticed how his arm brushed your shoulder, how his hand grabbed your waist when he wanted to move past you and his hips grazed your ass. It seemed like his eyes were glued to your cleavage and somehow no one took notice.

In his defense though, you weren't a saint either. Where he pulled, you just let yourself get tugged along. When he moved past, you purposely arched your back; just to test the waters and pushed out your chest to maybe rile him up a bit; you don't know really.

There was something entertaining about an attractive guy like Pedri showing his interest for you so blatantly and pursuing you in such a secretive way.

Yet for all it's worth, you never went further than touching and looking, sneaking a kiss here and there. It's clear what type of guy Pedri is, if all the buzz around his rather promiscuous love life, filled with influencers and models, is any indication.

You heard what people said, what the articles reported. Pedri is young, rich and successful, he would be a fool to immediately pursue a serious relationship at that stage in his life. He liked to enjoy life, be wild in his early 20s and keep the monogamy for later.

And it's not like you could blame him, honestly. You're sure that if your roles were switched, you would enjoy his lifestyle too to an extent. You are you though.

And you wanted something serious, someone to treat you with respect and loyalty. Surely, Pedri saw you more as a way of passing time, just having his fun with you. But you had enough self-respect to not give in to his troublsome ways.

Also, you barely had the nerves to put up with all that.

That's what you liked to tell yourself at least.

With a sigh you turn your head to where Sofía suddenly sits up. You're about to close your eyes again, ready to fall under the sun's mercy, when you hear your best friend scoff next to you.

You bring your sunglasses up and follow her sight. "Can you fucking believe that?", she says agitated.

A loud giggle errupts and you watch as two girls talk animatedly with both Fernando and Pedri.

The brunette one subtly scratches over Fernando's arm, as she seems to listen intently to whatever he's saying. Fer doesn't really engage her, keeps his visible distance, though Sofía doesn't seem to care. Her eyes shoot daggers in their direction.

What bothers you though was the blonde one clinging like a koala onto Pedri. She seems so....you can't find the word but it irritates you. And he did absolutely nothing about it, actually rather enjoying it. Not that he shouldn't of course, but he could keep his distance as well. Also, you didn't want to have to deal with two horny people during your vacation (one you didn't pay for but you get the gist), and an angry best friend, if they were to stay.

It also doesn't help that Pedri looks the way he does. Absolutely gorgeous.

You never thought to be admitting to this but he almost looks like sex-on-legs in those red swim shorts of his. The sun burned his skin in the most beautiful way possible, accentuating his natural blush and his slim but toned body. It's been nothing but torture the entire day.

The two of you watch them for another minute, none of the brothers noticing any of your hard stares, when Sofía stands up determined. "If he wants to play, I'll play."

When she notices your indifferent state, she looks at you expectantly.

"What?", you ask.

"Come on, I can't do this alone."

Reluctant you get up as well and shake non-existent sand off your legs. "I don't know Sof...Fer doesn't really seem too into it."

She cocks an eyebrow and the expression on her face says enough for you to not press any further.

"Yeah, yeah alright.", you say. You don't know what plan she has in mind exactly but you follow her anyway. You get increasingly confused when she proceeds to take her bag and go to the changing rooms. She closes the door behind you and rummages in her bag and only when she pulls something out, you realize the absolute stupid plan she has.

No, you don't think even scriptwriters could come up with such silly ideas.

"I cannot believe you."

In her hands are, what you believe to be, the flimsiest bikini pieces you have ever seen.

"I always pack a pair or two for emergencies.", she says and gives you a pair. A red brazilian bikini, the ones with high-cut strings. "And as you can see, this is an emergency."

You hold the garments up. "I thought Fer doesn't like you wearing those, why did you pack them for emergencies?", you ask confused.

Fernando is a sweetheart. You really think there could have been no one more perfect for your best friend than him. He's not controlling, always puts her first and you genuinely believe that he always has her best interests in mind. Fer is not the type to forbid Sofía anything, especially not in regards of clothes. He let's her wear whatever she wants, no matter how short or ridiculous it looks. However, for some reason, he has often voiced his strong dislike towards those brazilian bikini bottoms that recently started trending.

It didn't bother Sofía at all, she didn't really wear them often anyways. But you guess she never got rid of them either.

"Precisely that's why. Also, they tan better.", she says as she takes out a white pair for herself. You don't think she really understood your question and you make a point to ask her later. For now though, you have another problem at hand.

"Ok ok, so you try to rile him up one way or the other. I get it. But why do I have to wear one as well?"

Sofía looks at you like it's so obvious and you're dumb for even asking, "Because there's two of those skanks? We can drive one off, but as long as the other stays, none of them will leave."

Your brows shoot up and you groan frustrated at what this means. "Oh come on, Pedri is not that bad.", Sofía reasons.

If only she knew, you thought. You want to protest but you think back to the blonde girl that threw herself onto Pedri and something bad bubbles up in your stomach.

With new determination you two change and make your way back to the beach. Sofía looks gorgeous in the bikini and for all it's flimsiness you think it suits you pretty good as well. Okay, who are you kidding. It looks fucking sexy on you, hugging you in all the right spots and making your ass look extra perky.

And you know you're not the only one who thinks so, as you feel the eyes of several men and women alike on both of you.

It gets even more apparent when two certain brothers look your way. Comically enough, the two girls shamelessly joined them on your sunbeds. By now your other friends joined as well and Sofía walks in front of you to where the others are; pointedly ignoring Fernando's presence.

You aren't as strong-willed though and can't help but sneak a look at Pedri. He already looks back at you, a smirk playing on his lips as his eyes scan your entire body.

You immediately turn your head back, feeling your cheeks heat up stupidly enough, despite the weather, and sit next to Miguel.

"Ohh, what's the occasion?", Samuel whistles when you two settle down.

Sofía shrugs and you feel uncomfortable with all eyes on you. It becomes worse when the conversations stop as well suddenly and Fer stands up. "Why did you change?"

"Felt like it. Also we can tan better now.", Sofía says indifferent.

He frowns, "But you looked pretty before." Bless his heart you think.

Sofía ignores him, and you think she's going a bit too far but it's not your relationship to intervene. "Samuel can you help put sunscreen on my back, I can't quite reach it."

The flabbergasted look on Fernando's face was both priceless and heartbreaking to see and you slowly begin feeling bad.

"What?"

"Sure."

Both answer at the same time and you grimace at the awkwardness. Fer goes and grabs the bottle out of her hands, the pretty brunette completely forgotten already. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I don't know what you mean."

He turns to the rest of you with an apologetic but upset expression, "Will you excuse us for a moment?"

He proceeds to take Sofía to a more quiet place on the beach. You see them argue in the distance but ultimately decide that for now it's not your business anymore.

Samuel and Loréna already went back into the water, Pedri is occupied with the two girls and only Miguel was with you.

The sun hasn't gotten any less warm and now that you wore this criminal bikini, you could at least put it to good use, right? So you take the sunscreen and hold it out to Miguel. "Can you?", you say pointing to your back.

It takes him a moment to understand what you mean, but when he does, he nods and reaches out but someone else happens to be faster than him. "Let me do it."

You look into Pedri's honey eyes.

Next to you, the blonde girl scoffs and regards you with an angry face. Miguel leaves as well and you want to say something to stop him, begging him not to leave you alone, but Pedri beats you to it. "Turn around and lay down." His voice is firm and it unwillingly sends shivers down your spine.

And for some reason you listen.

Your stomach retracts slightly when your belly touches the cold sunbed. But you forget everything the moment the cool sunscreen touches your skin and Pedri begins spreading it.

It's too sensual for your liking and he's gentler than you thought. Pedri goes all the way up to your neck, massaging the spot thoroughly and when he slowly goes down, his hands reach under your bikini top. Embarrassingly enough, pleasure fills your lower stomach.

Yet, you don't know what overcomes you, but attraction makes you do stupid things, so you simply reach behind your back and open the knot. "It'll be easier.", you explain with a small voice.

You get an answer in the form of his hands, when Pedri touches the exact spot and slowly glides his hands to your sides. His index fingers barely graze the sides of your boobs and goosebumps erupt all over your body.

If Pedri notices, he doesn't say anything.

Instead he just continues spreading the cream all the way to your lower back, his fingers once again invading places he shouldn't, much to your own excitement though.

It's quiet the entire time, you barely register Miguel talking with the two abandoned girls and going away with them. Light chatter and laughs, the splashing of water and the moist sound of Pedri spreading the sunscreen are the only audible things around you.

But you should know by now that it's only a matter of time before Pedri decides to ruin peaceful moments.

"Need me to put some on your ass as well?"

Shameless is the only word good enough to describe the football player. "In your dreams maybe.", you say and turn your head to watch him through your glasses.

His eyes are glued to your backside, "Oh if only you knew, princess."

You bind your bikini top back together and sit up, "You're stupid, González."

"For you, yeah."

You resist the urge to punch him and ignore the fact that it affects you more than what is condemned good. "Will you stop?"

"Why, do I make you nervous?"

You cross your arms over your chest, his eyes immediately zoning in on the movement. You (un)consciously press them together tighter, for no particular reason.

"No."

"Really?", he extends the 'e' sound and leans forward. Not expecting him to, you automatically fall back. He grabs the edge of the sunshade and pulls it down until it completely hides the two of you.

"What are you doing, they'll see us!"

Pedri chuckles and you can't help but peak at his pink lips, only inches away from yours now. "That's what you're worried about?"

"What else?" You think maybe the heat has gotten to your head, but really it's just Pedri's presence on top of you.

You see the way Pedri's mouth opens, ready to continue the banter but with his entire body pressed into yours, his natural scent mixed with the sea, his honey eyes boring into yours and exploring your entire face and his hands itching on your hips, you do the only thing possible in this situation.

You grab his neck and smash your lips against his.

He responds immediately, reciprocating the kiss. You hate how good it feels and despite how confusing it is with him, no moment has ever been clearer than right now.

A whine leaves your mouth when Pedri presses his hips into yours, the pleasure inmessurable. It's an indecent thing to do at a public beach (even though this is a private part of the beach Pedri specifically rented for the vacation) so he pulls back but right now you can't care at all.

All rationality leaves your body when you grab his red shorts by the hem and pull him back. You cling your legs around his back thighs and butt.

"Woah there, sugar, slow down.", he laughs, while caringly pushing a loose strand of hair out of your face.

Honestly, you would be flustered in any other moment but this. You can't think straight, the need to have him currently overweighting any other feeling.

His left hand slides from your waist to your ass, massaging the flesh. His other hand is clasped around your jaw, keeping your lips firm against ist.

You lose yourselves in the moment, Pedri's left hand close to where you need it the most. It's embarrassing how easy his fingers manage to slip under your bikini. And when he touches your clitoris, you're on cloud nine.

Your hands wander down to his beautiful red shorts and waist no time to wrap around his dick.

He groans into the kiss, "Fuck."

You begin moving your hand up and down and that's when all the weight on top of you suddenly disappears. "Shit, I hate to be the one, but we-"

"Yeah, I know.", you immediately cut him off and organize yourself a bit. Your head spins a bit, everything going too fast for you. Your body and mind haven't completely sobered up yet, and it stings a bit to be turned down like this. It's also confusing. But he's right.

Pedri seems to read you well enough by now, when he says, "It's not because I don't want to."

You hold up your hand, not ready for any kind of rejection, "I'm not dumb, Pedri. This is the fucking beach." Yet you wonder if he would have gone further if it was the pretty blonde and not you.

He goes through his hair and laughs, "Not because of that. My brother is coming and I don't think now is the time to explain ourselves, is it?"

You immediately spin around and indeed, Fernando and Sofía are walking in your direction; hand-in-hand, you might add. Luckily they seem too focused on one another and their ice cream to notice you and Pedri.

When you turn back, Pedri winks at you. "I'll choose a more private place next time."

You scoff, "There will be no next time."

He rubs his chin thoughfully and looks at you in an actingly confused way, "The way you were going at it, I could have sworn you were down for another- Ow!"

You hit Pedri angrily, the redness on your face surely visible, "Don't ever mention that again."

"And what if I do?", he smirks cockily.

"Pedri!"

"__!", he imitates in a high voice and this time you can't help but laugh. You roll your eyes playfully and shove him away. It gets increasingly hard to not crush on him. Maybe you already do.

The sunshade moves then and Fer and Sofía hop next to you two.

"Nice to see that you two love birds made up, I was beginning to worry.", you comment and Sofía lovingly puts her head on Fer's shoulder.

You four chat around a bit more, when Fernando suddenly chuckles and points at you and Pedri. Confused, you both look at him.

"You two look more like a couple than we do. Did you notice that you're matching?"

You did, in fact, not notice. And neither it seems, did Pedri.

You make a gaggig noise then and shoot up, "Whatever, I am going to change."

Pedri follows close behind, "Want me to help?"

"Shut up!"

────────────

#pedri x reader #pedri fanfic #pedri imagine #pedri smut #football x reader #football imagine #football fanfic #pedri one shot #pedri fluff

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bqstqnbruin · 3 months ago

Text

Tattoos of You

Look, I know this gif is ancient but I love this one don't judge me.

ANYWAY here I am with my entry for @wyattjohnston's summer 2024 fic exchange! I had the pleasure of writing for @senditcolton so I hope you enjoy this because I have literally been thinking about this fic so much for the last like three months (yes I have been working on this idea for too long)

These following links are some of the tik toks that I used for inspo for this fic: X X X X X

Special shoutout to @nicohischier for reading this the entire time I was writing it, love you (I swear you'll get a happy fic at some point)

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, aNGST (Nicole you asked for it)

WC: 11k

________________________________

an open book with a sunset coming out of it

The sun was shining, children were running around and laughing, people were splashing around in the water.

Colette was under an umbrella, trying to stay in its shade as much as possible, with a hat on her head and her sunglasses on.

“Can you please enjoy yourself?” Becca asks.

“This is as close to enjoying myself as you’re going to get,” Colette mumbles, not looking up from the book that she was reading. It’s not that she hated the beach, it’s that she hated the sun, the sand, the heat, the noise, the crowds of people.

Maybe she did hate the beach.

“Do you want to go back up to the house?” The house was not much better: the AC barely worked when they got in last night, and Colette spent most of the night not sleeping because of how hot the room was. She was also pretty sure that there was a raccoon somewhere in the walls of the house, since the scratching she could swear was coming from behind her head when she was in her bed only happened at night, and magically stopped once the sun came up.

“Do you want to go back to the house?” Colette asks.

“Not at all.”

“Well, I’m not going to walk the two miles back alone, am I?”

Becca rolls her eyes, shielding them from the sun despite the huge sunglasses on her face. She looks out to the water and lets out a long sigh. “Everyone else is in the water having fun, why don’t we join them?”

Colette makes a face as she looks out at the rest of her friend group. They were playing some horrible version of chicken, given the fact that she was sure she and Becca were the only ones sober at this point. “Then when you get out of the water, the sand sticks to you because you’re all wet and it’s impossible to get off.”

“You’re, like, the only person I know who hates the beach this much.”

“I wanted to go to a cabin near the lake we used to go to when we were younger, and you all wanted to ‘try something new,’” Colette points out. “I told you I didn’t like the beach, but you guys said you wouldn’t go away without me.”

Becca rolls her eyes again, “That’s because we like you, Lettie. You’re the responsible one in the group.”

Becca gets up without another word, going to join the rest of their friends in the water. “Great,” Colette mumbles, going back to her book.

She loses track of time, her friends never even coming back to talk to her while she finishes one book and quickly moves on to the next. The people around her come and go, the beach slowly emptying out as people leave for dinner. She wasn’t sure how long her friends would last without food, given the amount of alcohol they had consumed and how little they had come back to their spots in the sand to even grab the snacks they ran around packing that morning.

“Watch out!” she hears coming from her left, a ball hitting the book out of her hands and into the sand a few feet away before she even has the chance to react.

“You bastards,” she shrieks as two guys come running over to get the ball. “That’s a library book.”

“Your book is fine,” one of them says, holding up the book with two fingers as if it had a disease or something else rancid oozing out of it.

“Are you ok?” the other one asks, Colette holding up her hand to shield her eyes so she could at least see the guys she was scowling at with the sun behind them.

Despite her anger at them for nearly probably injuring her, they were, unfortunately for her, attractive. Not that made her less angry, but if Becca were there next to her, she would somehow manage to force Colette to acknowledge it to their faces.

“I’m fine, but my book is not,” she says, ripping the thing out of the darker haired boy. “You ripped one of the pages when you picked it up.”

The one with lighter hair looked behind his friend, scoffed and thrust the ball into his friend's chest to pick up the now missing page. “You’re giving her money to pay for a replacement book,” he says, handing Colette the page.

“Fine, I’ll give her the ten dollars.”

“This book cost twenty five,” she tells him, showing him the price from the back of the book.

“Books are twenty five dollars?” he scoffs. “For what?”

“If you could read above a fourth grade reading level, maybe you would know,” Colette mutters, earning a laugh from the lighter haired boy.

“I’m not paying that much for a book.”

“You’re the one who kicked the ball that ruined her book. You’re the one who’s going to pay for her to replace it so she doesn’t have to. You get, like, a hundred and seventy five thousand dollars a week for your paycheck, you can handle twenty five dollars, you jackass.”

Colette nearly chokes when she hears the number he casually spit out, the two sending themselves into a bickering match over the money. She gets out her phone, wincing as she stands up for the first time in hours to hand it to the dark haired boy. “Send the money here.”

He starts mumbling something under his breath, Colette rolling her eyes as he does as instructed. One of the guys from their group calls for them, him running back to them with the ball.

“Sorry about Mat,” his friend says, standing over Colette as she sits back down.

“He seems like a delight,” she deadpans, trying to hide the combination of disgust and excitement as he sits down with her, laughing at her words.

“He’s an asshole,” he tells her, squinting as he looks out at the water. Colette couldn’t help but study him, the green of his eyes, the sharp angle of his jawline, his somehow perfectly styled hair, all combining to something she didn’t understand her need to look at. “And thankfully, my opposite.”

“People don’t talk like that,” Colette blurts out before thinking.

“Excuse me?”

“‘And thankfully, my opposite,’” she imitates him, lowering her voice and earning another laugh from him. “That’s something people say in rom coms.”

“You’re awfully judgemental for someone who doesn’t have to pay for a damaged book.”

Colette laughs, a smile forming on his face that, for some reason, she didn’t want to stop seeing. “It’s part of my charm. I’m Colette, by the way.”

“Anthony.”

Colette loses track of time again, not because of her now ruined book. Becca eventually comes back, as do the rest of the friends, letting her know that they were running to grab food before coming back to watch the sunset. Anthony’s friends had seemingly all but forgotten about him, at one point leaving without him realizing it, only to come back with Colette’s friends with food for both of them.

“You guys came all the way to Canada when you live in Pittsburgh?” Mat asks.

“We go somewhere every year together, Lettie picked Vancouver for her turn,” Eddy says.

“I did not pick the beach, though,” she says, only loud enough for Anthony to hear.

“Glad you did,” he replies, again, only loud enough for her to hear. He smiles at her, his hand inching towards hers in the sand as the sun sets over the water.

a tent on the ground with a pine tree next to it, the moon and shooting star over both

“Those guys from the beach said they wanted to go camping with us this weekend,” Eddy says during their group facetime.

Becca immediately started making plans of who was driving with who, Addison talking about the tents and sleeping bags she could borrow from her dad and brothers from their scouting days, Devyn talking about the food they would be able to bring, Franco talking about the beer.

“Hold on, guys,” Colette interrupted, doubting that any of her friends was actually listening to the others. “Since when do we camp?”

“Since hot guys ask us to,” Eddy says.

“You liked those guys?” Colette asks, the rest of her friends laughing at her.

“Oh, come on, Lettie,” Addison teases her. “You ignored us for the entire three days we were there because you were talking to Anthony.”

Colette rolls her eyes, thankful that her friends couldn’t see the rapid succession of texts from Anthony appearing on her screen at that moment. She didn’t want to tell them that they were right that she liked talking with him that weekend two months ago, so much so that she had been texting him almost as often as she was texting the group chat. She didn’t want to admit that she thought she was starting to fall for a guy she had only interacted with in person once, because who the hell did that?

But, this was an excuse to see him again, without her friends nagging her about her crush, that may or may not exist, in a way that wouldn’t be a date.

“I’m not driving.”

“Does that mean you’re coming?” Eddy asks, all of her friends faces’ way too close to their cameras for her to do anything other than groan.

“Unfortunately.”

By the time they got to the camping site, the guys already had enough tents set up for a small army. Eddy stops the car, Devyn and Franco getting out and immediately starting to unpack the trunk full of their stuff.

“Damn,” Eddy drools, Colette laughing. “I never knew setting up tents was hot.”

“It’s not.”

Eddy fans himself, taking in a deep breath. “It is once you realize that that active bakery over there is attached to your boyfriend.”

Colette cringes, trying not to let Eddy see her looking at Tito with his back towards them, bent over at his waist, his ass right there. “Not my boyfriend.”

“Not yet, babe,” Eddy corrects her. “That could change tonight.”

“And how, praytell, do you see that happening?”

“You’ll share a tent with him, you’ll share all your secrets, fall madly in love, get married with me as the bridesman of honor, of course, have tons of babies, and die in each others arms like that one couple on the Titanic.”

“You could eat and shit out a bunch of Scrabble tiles and whatever they spelled out would still make more sense than whatever just came out of your mouth,” she says, getting out of the car just as Becca and Addison pull up behind them.

Eddy laughs, locking the car doors. “Just because I don’t make sense to you doesn’t mean I’m not right. I’ve never seen two people who align so well before you and Tito. You are so meant to be.”

Colette laughs. “I’ll remember that next time you’re fawning over Devyn and Franco’s relationship,” she tells him, gesturing over to their two friends who had already claimed a tent to share together.

Eddy had a sly smile forming on his face, one that Colette knew was going to lead to something she hated. “Hey, Anthony,” he calls.

Anthony perks up once he sees who calls his name, Colette telling herself that it was simply because he heard his name and he had ‘golden retriever vibes’ in general, not because he saw her, despite the fact that he was looking at her the entire time he came over. “What’s up, Ed?”

Eddy visibly swoons at the sound of Anthony calling him a nickname, trying to collect his composure before Anthony actually notices or Colette calls him out for it. “Lettie here said that she wanted to share a tent with someone since she’s never been camping before.”

“What?”

“Ok?”

“Well, I snore like a jet ski, so I would never want to subject our girl to that,” Eddy continues, throwing his arm around Colette and pulling her close to him, throwing her off balance, “So we were wondering if you wanted to share with her?”

“Oh!” Anthony says, his face turning red. Colette tries to discreetly pinch Eddy’s side as payback, her heart racing as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean, I was going to ask you that anyway, but I guess you beat me to it.”

Eddy walks away without another word, leaving an angry Colette and an embarrassed Anthony behind in his wake. “He’s lying, I’m fine on my own if you don’t-”

“You don’t-” he cuts her off, looking down at the ground, “You don’t want to share a tent?”

“No, I mean,” she starts, trying to find the right words. How do you tell someone you want to be near them without it sounding weird? “If you want to, I wouldn't say no to sharing.”

“Oh, I want to,” he says quickly, a small laugh escaping his lips that matched Colettes. “I want to.”

Colette could feel her face getting hot as she smiled at him. “Let’s go set up our tent?”

Their friends wander off again, just like the day they met at the beach, as the day wore on, leaving Anthony and Colette to finish setting up where they were going to start their fire for the night.

“Hold on,” Colette says, trying not to laugh so hard that she couldn’t get the words out, “She threw what?”

“A dildo.”

“So that photo you sent me of your black eye from last season?”

Anthony’s face was bright red, biting his lip and nodding, “Yeah. yeah, it wasn’t from practice. It was from Tamsin throwing a dildo at me when she thought I was breaking into our apartment.”

Colette cackled, the ugliest sounding laugh she had ever heard bubbling up from her stomach. “I’m so sorry.”

“Like you’ve never had any embarrassing encounters with an ex.”

“The worst I’ve had is a guy named Mason sprinkled packets of those instant mashed potatoes around the lawn outside my apartment complex after a bad break up when we were in college.”

“How’d you know it was him?”

“He texted me right before it rained asking if I liked mashed potatoes, and then I never heard from him again.”

Anthony laughs, the voice in Colette's head telling her that she wanted to hear that sound as much as she could. They keep talking about nothing as the sun sets, starting the fire before it gets too dark out.

“So,” Anthony says, sitting down on one of the chairs, the shadows from the flames illuminating every Colette had been mesmerized by the first time they met. “We’ve got Dildo Throwing Tamsin and Mashed Potato Mason as our exes.”

“I think they’d like each other,” she laughs, plopping down on a chair next to him. Colette looks up to the sky. The stars streaked the sky like nothing she had ever seen before. She knew there were millions of stars up there, but she never thought she would see them. “God, you never get to see the stars with all the city lights. It’s beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful,” she hears Anthony say, his face red yet again when she turns her attention to him and smiles. Before she can say anything, he starts, “Do you think we can see each other?”

“Do you think I’m imaginary or something?”

“No, I mean,” he starts, the sounds of their friends coming back to start eating making him jump. He pulls his chair so close to Colette’s they practically overlap as he lowers his voice. “Can we go out when we’re back in the city? Just the two of us?”

Colette felt her face getting hot again, charmed by the nerves he showed around her. “Yes.”

a mirror with an outline of a head in it, no face

“What are you doing right now?”

“I’m getting ready for work.”

“Do you want to hang out?”

“Did you not hear me?”

Colette hears Anthony laugh on the other end of the phone. “I heard you, but I still want to hang out. I miss you.”

Colette cringed as she felt her heart skip a beat. She hated that she missed him too, and she wanted to see him, but, “I have to leave in the next two minutes if I want to be on time for my meeting, I can’t. What about tonight?”

“We have a home game at seven tonight. Tomorrow morning?”

“I’m watching my cousin and taking him to his soccer game for my aunt tomorrow.”

“What time?”

“You’re not coming to watch pee wee soccer.”

“What time are you leaving to pick him up?”

“You’re really bad at listening,” Colette says, grabbing the last of her stuff as she heads out the door.

“What time?” he repeats, clearly not going to stop until she gives him an answer as she rushes out the door.

“I don’t remember. Can I let you know after work tonight?”

“Sure. Talk later?” he asks, alarm bells going off in Colette’s head about something she was sure he was scheming.

He hangs up before he can say anything, leaving Colette to stew as to what he was going to do. Anthony wasn’t going to show up at her apartment when she was supposed to leave to get her cousin, was he?

“Why do you look like that?” Addison asks once she sees Colette at work.

Colette snaps out of the trance she didn’t realize she was in, looking away from her computer for the first time in a while. “I don’t know, genetics?” she asks, a slightly offended tone in her voice.

“No, I mean,” she says, sitting down on Colette’s desk. “You look concerned.”

Colette shakes her head. “I was just working,” she says, leaning back in her chair and rubbing her eyes. She lets out a sigh. “Anthony was really adamant about hanging out.”

“Oh, no,” she says, fake concern dripping through her voice as Colette rolls her eyes. “The guy you’re dating wants to see you.”

“He was kind of weird about it, though. He wanted to come over this morning, and I think he wants to hang out tomorrow.”

“Well, that’s not weird.”

“I’m watching Grayson tomorrow.”

“And?”

“And he knows that.”

“So?”

Colette rolls her eyes again out of frustration for herself. Why couldn’t she explain how she felt to her friend? “So we just saw each other, like, two nights ago. Isn’t it too soon to see each other again?”

Addison shakes her head. “Don’t you want to see him?”

“Well, yeah, but what if he’s only asking to see me because he knows I want to see him and he doesn’t actually want to see me? I have to take Grayson to his soccer game. That’s so boring. Why would he want to do that?”

Addison rolls her eyes. “Because he’s obsessed with you?”

Colette groans. “Don’t you have a meeting in a minute?”

The next morning, Colette wakes up to knocking on her door. She gets up, surprised to find Anthony standing on the other side of the door with coffees in hand. “What are you doing here?” she whines.

“You never texted me,” he tells her, pushing past her and heading to her room.

“I, uh,” she hesitates. “Sorry, I forgot.”

Anthony sets the coffees down on her nightstand, pulling up her sheets as if he was going to start making her bed. “No you didn’t.”

“I did,” Colette tells him, her voice sounding more sure of her lie.

“You just didn’t text me.”

“Look, I love taking Grayson to his soccer games when my aunt can’t, but they’re really boring for other people. Last time I took Eddy, he complained the entire time,” she explains, taking the coffee from him. “I didn’t think you’d really want to sit through that.” Colette starts to get ready, sitting in front of the mirror in her room to get her hair together.

She makes eye contact through the glass with Anthony as he sits down on her now made bed. “I don’t do anything I don’t want to do.”

a cartoon cinnamon bun

Anthony had his arms around Colette before they were even through the door, pinning her against the wall outside her apartment, his lips on hers. They had been like this since they were in the bar with the rest of their friends, them being teased that they needed to get a room. Since Anthony’s eyes got darker when he turned to her, his hands on her waist as he asked her who’s place was closer for them to get in a bed as soon as possible.

They barely made it through her door and had it shut when Anthony’s fingers danced along the hem of her shirt, pleading with her to take it off and practically ripping his off at the same time. Anthony and Colette stumbled their way to her bed, nearly losing contact with each other when they collapsed onto her mattress, skin to skin and Colette already deliriously happy.

They woke up the next morning, the sheets a mess, their clothing in a trail leading from her entryway to her bed. Colette’s phone was somehow on her nightstand next to her, buzzing continuously for what seemed like any hour. Anthony let out a groan, a result of the hangover he was probably feeling.

“Don’t get it,” he mumbles into her pillow, his arm wrapped around her pulling her closer. She could feel herself relax as his heartbeat gently thumped against her back. It buzzes again, Anthony starting to kiss his way from the nape of her neck down her spine, a giggle escaping her lips at his attempt to distract her.

“If it’s going off this much, it has to be something bad.”

“One time it was Eddy melting down and calling to tell you he got water on his new shoes.”

Colette scrolls through her phone, multiple missed calls from her friend group as Anthony’s mouth works his way back up to her neck, propping himself up to try to get her cheeks. Another call from Eddy appears on her screen, her heart racing that something bad happened to one of her friends.

“Hello?”

“Oh my god,” Eddy screams, “I thought Anthony murdered you.”

Anthony and Colette laugh, Colette switching over to speaker phone even though Anthony had no problem hearing their conversation without it. “No, we were asleep. What’s wrong?”

“I’ve been praying to God all morning that you were ok.”

“Eddy, it’s like 9 am, and you don’t believe in God.”

“I found God so I could pray that you were ok.”

“I didn’t realize she was lost, but sure. What’s wrong?”

“Your parents are on their way. They said they’d be at your place at 9 am.”

Colette looks at the time at the top of her screen: 8:56 am.

“Fucking shit,” she screams, dropping her phone on her bed and practically falling over the sheets as she launched herself off the mattress to collect the clothes scattered around her floor.

“What, what’s wrong?” Anthony calls after her, picking up what he can and throwing on the shirt that was still sitting by her front door.

“My parents are coming.”

“And?”

“You’re here.”

“Do you not want me here?”

Colette whips around to face him, thrusting his underwearing and pants from last night into his chest while trying to get her own shirt back over her head. “Of course, I do.” She runs past him and back into her room to throw clothes on and panic make her bed. “It’s just, you don’t have enough time to leave before they get here. And, if you’re here, then they’re going to start asking questions about whether or not you’re my boyfriend, and probably a bunch of other things, too.”

“Then we tell them I am,” Colette hears, seeing Anthony appear on the other side of her bed to help her straighten up.

She stops, standing straight up to stare at him. “What?”

“We tell them I’m your boyfriend.” He walks around to the other side of her bed to meet her. “Unless, you don’t want me to be your boyfriend.”

Colette opens her mouth, no words coming out. “Do you want to be my boyfriend?”

Anthony throws his head back in laughter, pulling her in for a hug and kissing the top of her head. “Of course I do.” Colette gives him a kiss, a knock at her door pulling them apart. “You get more clothes on, I’ll go meet your parents.”

Colette scrambles to find something presentable enough for her parents liking, trying her best to fix her hair and the makeup that she never took off from the night before when she hears laughter coming from her kitchen. She finally comes out of her room, her mom’s hand over Anthony’s while her dad is animated talking to him, a pink bag from her favorite bakery near their house on the table filling the room with the scent of the cinnamon buns that made her mouth water.

“Sweetie, we brought you some breakfast, but we didn’t know you had your boyfriend over,” her mom says, no hint of the fakeness Colette expected in her voice.

“Why don’t we all go out for breakfast?” Anthony says, getting up from his seat, “My treat. Colette and I can have the cinnamon buns later.”

Her mother swoons as he takes her hand and leads her to the door, a wink from Anthony sent Colette’s way that made her cheeks burn.

Her dad pulls her in for a hug, his arm around her shoulder as they follow Anthony and her mom down to his car. “Boyfriend, huh? Is he good enough for you?”

Colette hesitates, not sure why she did so before saying, “I think so.”

What if she wasn’t good enough for him?

a phone with an incoming call, no contact on the screen

“Franco, please, you’re giving me a headache,” Addison groans, her hands on her head to massage the headache away.

“No, I don’t care, you guys don’t understand how amazing she was.”

“We do, babe, I promise, but it’s 1 am,” Devyn tells him, giving him a gentle squeeze on his thigh.

“No, you don’t get it. She has only lost the all-around once on the national and international level in the eleven years she’s been qualified for elite,” Franco argues back, launching into a rant about Simone Biles that none of them wanted to hear when they wanted to go to sleep.

Eddy groans the loudest. “I think you talk this much about your fiance,” he points out Devyn taking a minute before she realized he was right and giving Franco a glare.

The rest of the group launches into an argument when Colette’s phone rings, Anthony’s name coming up with a picture of the two of them from one night when they fell asleep on the couch together. Eddy had taken the photo and immediately gotten a bucket of water to pour over them to wake them up because he wanted to go out and get food with someone. Despite the aftermath of the photo, seeing it made her smile every time.

“Hey,” she says, walking out of Devyn and Franco’s living room without her friends noticing. “How was the game?”

“We won,” Anthony tells her. They were on a west coast road trip that was supposed to end tomorrow with a game against Seattle.

“Why do you sound so sad, then?” Colette asks. Before they left, he told her they needed to do well this road trip in order to get into the wild card spot since the playoffs were right around the corner. They needed this win to get the cap between them and the next team even wider.

He lets out a long sigh. “I didn’t really play that well or that much.”

Colette could hear the sadness in his voice. She knew that he had been bouncing around to a few teams in the last couple of years, finally finding what he hoped was a more permanent home in Pittsburgh. “Did anyone score while you were on the ice?”

“No.”

“Did you get an assist or score?”

“Two assists, yeah.”

“Then what happened?”

She knew Anthony was scrunching his face. “I don’t know, I just felt off.”

Colette nodded. “I get that.” Anthony lets out a long breath. “Are you guys leaving after the game tomorrow or the next morning?”

“I actually don’t know. I guess I’ll find out when I’m on the plane,” he jokes, Colette laughing. “I can come over whenever I get in?”

“Yeah,” she says, smiling at the thought of seeing him. “If it’s tomorrow night, just wake me up when you come in.”

“Nah, I’ll let you sleep,” he says.

“No,” she argues, “I want to see you.” Eddy comes up behind her, making kissing noises at her.

“Tell Eddy I can hear him,” he laughs, Colette following suit. Anthony lets out a yawn. “Ok, I’m gonna go.”

“Bye, babe.”

“I love you, bye,” he yawns, hanging up before she could say anything else.

Colette stands there, staring at her phone with her mouth hanging open.

“What did he do? Do I have to kill him? I have enough gas in my car and money in my bank account to drive to San Jose and commit a felony,” Eddy starts, dragging her back into the living room with the rest of their friends.

“Lettie, what’s wrong?” Addison asks.

“Anthony just told me he loves me.”

The entire group’s jaws dropped, Eddy screaming loud enough that Colette was sure Devyn and Franco's neighbors could hear him. “What did you tell him?”

Colette shook her head. “Nothing. He said it and hung up the phone.”

“That rat bastard.”

“Eddy, say something helpful for once, please?”

Her friends start asking her a hundred questions, all coming at once. Why didn’t she call him back? Was she going to tell him she loved him? When was she going to tell him? When was she going to talk to him again in the first place?

Becca asked the question that made her stop. “Do you love him?”

Colette didn’t know what to say, trying to find the words. She knew she liked him, a lot. He was probably the person she could see herself loving for the rest of her life if he would let her.

“We should let her tell Anthony first, not us,” Devyn says, Colette letting out a little bit of an exhale as her friend told everyone it was probably time for them to go to bed.

She spent the night on their couch, Becca and Addison in their guest room, Eddy bringing his own blow up mattress and snoring on the floor near Colette.

She barely slept. Could she tell Anthony that she loved him? She could tell him anything, but if she did, would she mean it? It shouldn’t have surprised her that he would say it first, and it didn’t even surprise her that he said it at all. What shocked her most was that she wasn’t sure what she would say back.

Anthony was the kindest person to her, the one she wanted to call and see and be with all the time. She would do anything for him, but did that mean she loved him?

What if her love wasn’t enough? What if he ended up loving her more than she was capable of loving him?

“Eddy,” she whispers, trying not to scare him into waking up. She throws her pillow over to his mattress, hitting his face.

“The fish escaped,” he says, startled out of whatever his dream was. He rubs his eyes, groaning. “I was just about to save the country from the dinosaur fish.”

“You can go back to that in a minute,” Colette says, turning on the lamp on the end table next to her, despite Eddy’s groans. “When you were with Alex, how did you feel when you said ‘I love you.’”

“I think I was drunk and then blacked out.” Colette groans. “Lettie, if you’re freaking out about telling him you love him, then you don’t have to tell him right now. It’s ok for you to not say it if you aren’t comfortable with it.”

“That was out of character for you.”

“A stopped clock is right once a day.”

“Twice, Eddy.”

“Whatever, I’m going back to sleep. I hope this dream lets me play with kittens instead.”

Colette spent the next day stressing, running on pure anxiety due to her lack of sleep the night before. She hadn’t been able to watch Anthony’s game that night, falling asleep before it even started. She woke up Saturday morning to the sound of someone coming in her front door, hoping that it was Anthony and not an intruder.

“Colette?” Anthony calls, wandering into her bedroom to find her just sitting up, yawning and rubbing her eyes. “It’s nearly two pm, are you just waking up?”

“Don’t judge, I couldn’t sleep the other night. I guess it just caught up with me now.”

“I feel like I freaked you out after the game against San Jose,” Anthony says, sitting down. They had barely talked the day before, Colette purposely avoiding him under the guise of being busy all day with something at work. It wasn’t technically a lie, she just also hid her phone in her desk and forgot about it on purpose.

“No, you di-” she starts.

“I do mean it, though,” he says, pulling her in for a hug. “I do love you.”

Colette felt her heart start to race as she felt his hand on the back of her head. She could say it. She was sure it felt right. “Anthony,” she starts, feeling herself start to sweat as she pulls away to look at him. “I love you, too.”

Anthony smiles, kissing her.

Saying it felt just fine. She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to feel more.

wheel of fortune tarot card

Colette was exhausted.

The entire last week was spent with her and Anthony unpacking all the things they had into their new apartment, trying to figure out what to get rid of and what to keep when they realized that consolidating their things meant they now had two of everything they needed to share with each other; two sets of silverware, two sets of plates and bowls, two bedroom sets, two sets of living room furniture.

Anthony was willing to get rid of anything he needed to, but Colette was having a harder time going through her things. She didn’t mind sharing, but she wanted her own stuff. What if she, for whatever reason, had to move out, or if Anthony got traded and had to take stuff with him and left her with nothing because the stuff he took was technically “his” and not her own?

“Hey, babe,” she calls into the apartment, a little bit of an echo following her through the few rooms they hadn’t finished unpacking yet.

“In here,” Colette hears, following Anthony’s voice into their bedroom. He was standing in front of the bookshelf he had built into the wall (by someone who knew what they were doing, not by him), putting up all the books she had brought from her old place.

“I told you I would organize these,” she told him, coming up behind him and wrapping her arms around his waist, kissing his back. “I have a system.”

Anthony laughs, spinning around and hugging her back, kissing her on the lips. “Your system is ‘I have a bunch of books by this author, so they need to be together.’”

“And?”

“I’m not even touching your books yet,” he points out, turning her attention to all the boxes she left in the corner that were still, in fact, untouched. “These are my books.”

“I didn’t know you read.”

“Not all hockey players are illiterate, Colette,” he jokes, earning a laugh from her.

“No, I mean,” she starts, heading over to one of her boxes to start trying to organize them. “I know you normally don’t have time to do things other than, like, eat, sleep, and play hockey. Reading didn’t seem like something you had time for.”

“Well, you read a lot, so I thought I could do the same,” he tells her, his voice lower than normal. Colette looks up at the shelf he was putting books on; The Familiar by Leigh Bardugo and Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn amongst other books she loved and already had copies of sitting there on their own shelf.

“I already have these, you could have borrowed them at any time,” she points out, feeling Anthony’s arms around her, his chin resting on the top of her head.

“Yeah, but this way I can take them with me on the road and you’d still have your copies. I’d have a piece of you with me.”

What piece of him would she have with her while he was gone? She couldn’t think of anything as he spun her around in his arms to kiss her, feeling his smile against her lips while all she could feel was distress coursing through her.

a laundry basket full of clothes with a piece of clothing crumpled up in front of it

“What the hell?” Colette comes home from work to find that everything Anthony said he was going to get done was not done. He had promised he would get everything cleaned up before his friends came over tomorrow. “Anthony?”

Her boyfriend peers his head into the kitchen where she was standing, a smile on his face immediately fading when he sees the anger on hers. “Oh, shit.”

“Yeah, oh shit,” she says, gesturing around her. “This is the third day in a row that you said you would clean up.”

“I’m sorry, I got caught up.” He tells her, approaching her slowly, as if she were a tiger going to pounce on him with any sudden movement. “I’ll start now.”

Colette scoffs as he reaches out to her. He did this all the time. He would tell her that he would help her clean, especially when more than half of it was his mess to begin with, and then it always fell on her. “That’s not the point, Anthony,” she snaps at him.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“No, you aren’t. You tell me that every time you do this. You said you would help with the laundry, and look at where all the clothes are, not even in the basket still sitting on front of the washer and dryer where you left them two days ago,” she starts, gesturing to the mountain of dirty clothes she could see in their little laundry alcove that she swore she could smell from where she was standing. “The dishes from dinner on Monday are still here because you promised me after I cooked that you would clean them, but you disappeared instead and didn’t come home until after I went to bed. You have your coffee cup sitting on the table with coffee in it that I’m pretty sure is from at least three days ago. What the fuck is going on with you?”

“Nothing,” he says quickly, his face getting red as he turns towards the sink to start the dishes. “And, to be fair, you do this to me all the time. I come home from road trips and find you haven’t taken out the trash the entire time, or the dishwasher hasn’t been started. I’m sorry I forgot the last couple of days, but I’ve been busy.”

Colette bit her lip, knowing he was right. She was picking a fight with him they didn’t need to have, yet here she was anyway. “With what?”

“My job?” he says, shrugging, despite the slightest hint of a wavering going through his voice. It wasn’t just hockey. They were in the middle of a homestand and he had the day off today anyway.

Colette studies him for a second. “You’re lying to me,” she tells him. She could tell he tensed up from behind, the way he does when he’s not telling her the truth about something.

“I’m not.”

“Then what has been going on with you?”

Anthony hesitates, shaking his head and opening his mouth, clearly trying to figure out what to tell her. “Nothing. Like I said, I just got caught up.”

“With what?”

“Mat needed some help with something.”

Colette scoffed again, walking out of the kitchen and to their bedroom. She knew Anthony was following her, but shut the door behind her anyway. “Why would Mat need your help so urgently that he, on Long Island, needed to take you away from cleaning for the entire day here in Pittsburgh?” she asks, sitting on their bed as he opens the door back up.

“I can’t tell you that, it’s Mat’s business.”

Colette nods, knowing he was still lying. She pulls out her phone, pulling up her boyfriend's best friend's contact. “Hey,” she says when he picks up, seeing the wave of panic flash in Anthonys eyes as he pulled out his phone and started typing furiously on his own phone. She knew he was texting Mat. “Have you heard from Anthony today?”

“Uh, no, why?” Mat says, Anthony throwing his head back, sucking on his teeth and muttering ‘fuck’ under his breath.

“He just seemed a little off this morning when I left for work, I thought maybe hearing from you would cheer him up a little,” she lies to him.

“Oh, sure?” Mat tells her clearly confused before they hang up with each other.

“I can explain,” Anthony starts, sitting next to her on the bed and putting his hands in her lap.

Colette waits for a moment. “Then do it.”

“Tomorrow, I promise.”

She lets out a laugh. “No, now.”

“I can’t.”

Colette stares at him for a second, him still not looking directly at her but a pleading look in his eyes. “Are you cheating on me?”

Anthony finally looks at her. “What? Of course not.”

“Then what the hell is going on?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Anthony, you know everything about me. I tell you everything,” she says, looking around at the room they shared that he filled with her favorite things. She still hadn’t figured out what she would do for him. She could feel herself starting to panic, a year since they moved in together and she still barely knew anything about him. Colette shakes her head, looking down at his hands still in her lap. “We can’t do this.”

“Do what?”

“If we want to be in a relationship like this, we have to tell each other what’s going on,” she lies. She couldn’t do this anymore.

“I told you, I can tell you tomorrow.”

“What is so important that you can’t tell me now?” she asks, getting up from the bed and starting to pace. Her mind started spiraling, thinking the absolute worst of what he could be hiding from her. She was self destructing, and blaming it on him was the easier way out. She knew it was. “You’re cheating on me, you’re going to break up with me, you have a child you haven’t told me about, you’re dying or you’re seriously sick.”

“Hey woah,” Anthony says, stopping her and standing in front of her. He puts his hands on her shoulders. “Colette, why don’t you trust me?”

Colette stares at him for a second, trying to find her words. “I don’t know.”

Anthony’s expression drops, his hands sliding down her arms as he shakes his head. “I can’t be with someone who doesn’t trust me like this.”

Colette tries to hide the hurt that came with his statement. “I can’t be with someone who doesn’t tell me the truth when I ask him for it.” The two of them stare at each other for a few moments in silence. “Does that mean we’re done?”

Anthony nods, his eyes not reaching Colette’s again. “I think so.”

a glass looking liquor bottle with a small amount of liquid inside, a solo cup on its side tipped over in front of it

The guy in front of Colette was so cute. At least, he was cute enough to flirt with while she was drunk and still wanting more drinks she didn’t want to pay for. The cup of rum and coke in her drink never seemed to empty for long enough with him standing there with her.

She wasn’t even sure what his name was. She wasn’t sure she cared what his name was.

She was pretending to listen to him while twirling a lock of her hair in her fingers, trying her best to make it look like she was intrigued so that he would get her a refill of her almost empty drink. It wasn’t how she normally flirted, but it was working for him, so why not?

“Lettie, babe, come on,” she hears Anthony behind her, his hands wrapping themselves around her waist and pulling her ever so slightly towards him.

A month ago, she would have done anything to feel his body against hers like this.

Now, she wanted nothing more than to get out of his arms.

“Anthony,” she tries to fight.

“This your bodyguard?” the guy asks her, looking incredibly pissed off.

“Boyfriend,” Anthony corrects him.

The guy scoffs, running his hands through his hair. “Nice.” He walks away despite her protests, not listening to her as she tries to pry herself free of Anthony’s grasp.

He laughs, leading her back to their friends. Colette sits down, a now empty cup in front of her since she didn’t get that last refill that she wanted. None of her friends noticed her not participating in their conversation, her anger toward Anthony increasing along with her sobriety.

“I think I’m going to call it a night,” she stands abruptly, nearly knocking over the table holding all of their drinks.

Anthony gets up with her, Colette not hearing him say, “I’m gonna turn in too, I’ll walk her home,” before she pushes her way out of the bar and into the muggy air outside.

“I don’t know how you could stand there and let him flirt with you when you made it pretty clear that you weren’t even interested in him,” Anthony whines, not noticing how annoyed she was with him. He was acting like a hero when he shouldn’t have been. “I mean, I can’t believe I had to step in and help you.”

“You didn’t,” she snaps at him, catching him off guard. “I was interested in him. He was nice. He was buying me drinks. That’s why he was flirting with me, because I was flirting with him.”

Colette thought that they were actually going to be friends, like they said they would be. They had been out together since they broke up. They had hung out with their friends in the exact same setting and had the exact same scenario happen but without this ending to the night. There was no reason why he should have stepped all over her like that to ‘save her,’ as he put it.

“What? Oh, come on, I know how you act when you’re flirting with a guy.”

“Do you?” she asks him, followed by him giving her a confident, ‘yes.’ “Really? So what do I do?”

“You, you,” he starts, knowing that he dug himself into a hole. “You smile at him, you laugh at everything he says, even if it isn’t funny. You run your hands through your hair because you know that fucking collar bone of yours drives me crazy.” He stops, both of them shocked that he just said that. That isn’t how she flirts with anyone, that’s how she acted around him when they were together. “Fuck.”

“Anthony, you cannot keep doing this. We broke up,” she starts, not adding that it was her fault, even though she still felt like it was. “Stop interfering when I’m with another guy.”

“I’m just trying to protect you,” he tries to defend himself.

“From what? From who? What could you possibly be protecting me from? Other guys? Why, Anthony?”

“Fuck, Colette, you think it’s easy watching you flirt with another guy? Just because we broke up, that doesn’t mean I stopped loving you,” he spits out.

Colette stands there, trying to process what he just told her. She could feel her heart racing, the sound of it beating the only thing she could hear. “I didn’t know you still loved me.”

Anthony scoffs, looking down at the ground, shaking his head. “Of course I did. I do. You haven’t noticed that I haven’t looked at another girl since we broke up? I want you, and only you.”

“I didn’t,” she tells him. “Anthony, you’re just saying this because you’re drunk.”

Anthony raises an eyebrow, shaking his head and biting his lip. “Look, I might be. But I know that drunk or not, I cannot sit around and watch you flirt with every guy in existence, while you, the one who was supposed to be my best friend, didn’t even notice that I was miserable while it was happening.”

“What do you want from me?” she snaps. “What am I supposed to do? We tried. We didn’t work. As much as we both wanted to, we did not work.”

They stared at each other for a moment, neither of them knowing what to say. He had to know it was her fault they broke up. It wasn’t mutual, not really.

“I guess, nothing,” he tells her, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Nothing at all.” He looks down at the ground and lets out a long sigh. “I’ll see you at the wedding,” is the last thing Anthony says to her before turning on his heels, leaving Colette alone on the sidewalk.

a ring, not on the ring finger

“Devyn really picked the worst shade of blue she could find for these dresses, didn’t she?” Devyn’s youngest sister, Blake, complains to the rest of the bridesmaids.

Devyn had just stepped out of the room to do her first look with Franco, leaving the girls alone to finish getting ready.

“She picked sapphire,” Becca said.

“You know,” Colette continues. “Her birthstone?”

“She should have picked a lighter blue. This dark blue totally clashes with my skintone.”

“Blake,” Kendall, her other sister scolds her, “Devyn didn’t give a fuck about your skintone when she picked her favorite color. Either you’re wearing the dress without complaint or I’m telling mom and you’re not in the wedding.”

The sisters keep bickering, Addison, Becca, and Colette slowly moving away from them.

“I always forget that Blake is still in high school,” Addison says, grabbing her bouquet before checking her makeup one last time.

“I don’t know how you could when she’s constantly tagging Devyn in her posts,” Colette points out.

“Especially the ones she’s not even in.”

“To increase her visibility,” Colette starts, reciting word for word what Blake had tried to explain to them during Devyn’s bachelorette party. “So she has more people who know her brand when she becomes famous.”

“Teenagers make no sense,” Devyn appears, a nervous look on her face. “I think we’re almost ready to start.”

“What’s wrong?” Addison asks.

“Colette, we have a problem.”

“What did I do?”

“Sebby thinks Becca is hot and wants to walk down the aisle with her.”

Colette could feel the color draining from her face at the realization of what this switch would mean for her.

“Is he Franco’s older or younger brother?” Becca asks.

“The older one.”

Becca turns to Colette. “I’m not coming back to the hotel room tonight,” she tells her, practically giddy. “Oh, wait.”

“That means Colette has to walk with-” Addison starts.

“Anthony,” the four girls say at the same time.

“I’ll be fine,” Colette says, her voice noticeably higher than it should be. She clears her throat, trying to calm herself considering the last time she talked to Anthony was the night he told her he loved her. “I’m fine.”

Devyn’s wedding planner, Jax, comes over to tell them it’s time to line up to enter with the groomsmen.

“I love you,” Devyn calls after her bridesmaids, all of them calling back to her the same sentiment.

Colette nearly stops breathing when she sees Anthony in his suit, helping Eddy adjust his tie. The suit fit him perfectly, Colette silently cursing the fact that Franco picked dark gray as the color. She hated to admit that she still thought about that one suit of his that he wore on game day, one that looked identical to the one he had on now.

“Hi,” she says, standing next to him, trying to not look at him.

“Hi,” he repeats, staring straight ahead at the back of Eddy’s neck.

The music starts, both of them rigid while everyone else around them is relaxed.

“I thought this would be us one day,” Anthony breaks their silence as the first couple starts to walk arm in arm down the aisle towards where Franco was already standing.

“What?” Colette asks, caught off guard.

Anthony nods, still staring in front of him as they move closer to the entrance of their venue. “I had the proposal all planned out. Had the ring. Had the reservation for dinner. Had a photographer. Everything. And then, the night before I was going to ask you, we broke up. That’s why I couldn’t tell you what was going on. It was supposed to be a surprise.”

Colette looks at him, not noticing that they were next to go down the aisle, Anthony taking Colette’s arm in his as Jax tells them to start walking.

a candle with a long wick, uncut, the lid propped up against the glass

“Are you sure you’re ok to come to this?” Franco asks her.

Colette hesitates for a minute. She hadn’t seen him in months, so she wasn’t sure why she was being invited to his apartment. She hadn’t been to his place since he moved in over a year ago, and honestly, Colette hasn’t intended on going. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you’ve looked like you were going to vomit since we picked you up for this?” Devyn twists her body from the front seat to face her. “We can take you back home if you want.”

Franco pulls up in front of Anthony’s new place, knowing that she couldn’t ask them now to turn around and drive the entire way to and from her place again. “No, I’ll be fine.”

Colette takes in a deep breath as Devyn and Franco get out of the car, leaving her behind in the back seat to stare up at the building they were all supposed to be heading into. There was no need for her to be this nervous. She and Anthony were friends. They talked still, occasionally. Maybe once a week. And the conversations were never more than half an hour long, just to check in, but that’s adult friendships.

Right?

She gets out of the car, jogging to catch up with her friends as they were already to the elevator.

“You’re going to be ok, you know,” Devyn says, putting her arm around Colette.

“Yeah, we’ll kill him if you want us to.”

Devyn smacks her husband's chest with her free hand, scolding him as Colette laughs.

She could do this.

They make their way up to Anthony’s place, getting turned around and somehow ending up two floors above where they were supposed to be, thanks to Franco not being able to read a text message properly and upsetting one of Anthony’s elderly building neighbors. By the time they find his apartment, the place is full, their friends and Anthony’s taking up so much space they could barely move. Franco and Devyn break off from Colette, leaving her alone to scope the place out.

She wanders through his place, people in every single one of his rooms. She stumbles across what she assumes to be a guest room. It was way too neat to be Anthony’s own room, despite him always making her bed when they were together.

Mat appears behind her, laughing at the sight of the room. “I guess it’s easy to figure out which room is Tito’s, huh?”

Colette lets out a small laugh. “I was just thinking that.”

“How have you been?” he asks, sitting down on the bed.

She goes to join him, sighing. “I’m at my ex’s place for the first time since we moved out of the place we got together. Clearly, I’m on top of the world.”

“It could be worse.”

“Maybe,” she shrugs.

“Ok, what animal are you least afraid of?” Colette looks at him, confused by the non sequitur. “I’m trying to distract you.”

“Fine, fine,” she rolls her eyes as he nudges her shoulder. “I guess fish?”

“No, I said an animal.”

“And I said a fish.”

“No, a real animal?”

“Are fish fake?”

“You can’t find a fish at a zoo. Have you heard of fish zoos?”

“Yeah, they’re called aquariums, you fucking walnut,” Colette tells him, laughing so hard she could feel pain in her sides.

“Oh. Oh, yeah,” Mat sits there for a second, looking down at his hands with a smirk on his face while Colette continues to laugh. “I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you laugh that hard since you broke up with him.”

“This is the first time we’ve seen each other since before he and I broke up,” Colette points out once she catches her breath.

Mat sighs. “I don’t think he’s laughed as hard as you just did since you two broke up.”

“Yeah, sure,” she says, not believing him.

“Colette, you make him want to live as long as possible so he can have as much time sharing the planet with you as he can. He has all of your favorite things in his Notes App on his phone that he will not delete. That one picture I took of you guys way back when we all met is still one of his lock screens, again that he won’t delete. I mean, look around his whole place. You are in every corner.”

Colette shakes her head. “Come on.”

“Look at that bookcase,” Mat says, bringing her over to the other side of the room. A picture of Devyn and Franco’s wedding party is framed on one of the shelves, one where he is looking at her so lovingly that someone in passing would assume they were the ones getting married while she was looking at the camera if not for what they were wearing. Her favorite candle scents were still unlit, sitting on the shelf next to all the books she loved by Leigh Bardugo and Gillian Flynn, the same ones from when they first moved in together, their spines now noticeably more worn, the copies loved by someone who had to have read them multiple times. She picked up the copy of Ninth House, seeing his writing in it and comments saying things like ‘remember when you said this to me?’ or ‘this has to be your favorite scene because’ left unfinished.

“He was writing these to me,” she realizes, not noticing Mat leaving the room.

“Of course I was,” Anthony says, her turning around so fast she loses her grasp on the book in her hands to send it falling to the floor. “I can’t really read these books anymore without thinking of you.”

“Why do you still have them all then?”

Anthony looks at the book on the floor. “How could I get rid of them?”

The two of them stand there in silence for what feels like forever. She wasn’t used to having Anthony in front of her and barely being able to find the words to say to him. She hated herself for losing him, but how could she have kept him? Colette takes in a deep breath. “We made a mistake breaking up, didn’t we?”

Anthony nods, shrugging. “Yeah, probably.”

“I don’t think we could ever go back, either.” Anthony sighs, opening his mouth to say something when Colette cuts him off. “I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

“Do what?”

“I think I’m still in love with you, but we can’t be together. We don’t trust each other,” Colette hears herself say, shocked at the words that come out of her.

Anthony closes the distance between them, taking her in his arms and hugging her so fiercely she could barely breathe. “I still love you, too.”

The two of them pull apart, both of them crying. They knew what this was for them.

“God, this sucks,” Anthony laments.

“It’s kind of amazing, though, isn’t it?”

“What?” Anthony asks, shock in his voice.

“How lucky we are that we got to love each other so much, that a simple goodbye could feel as devastating as this.”

two sets of eyes, one opened set, one closed set

“Don’t panic,” Addison says, Eddy rolling his eyes behind her.

“Yeah, because only good things come from people saying that,” Colette says, handing her friends the drinks she bought them. Becca was somewhere with Devyn and Franco, the six of them out together for one of their increasingly rare nights when they could all be together without having to worry about anything outside the building they were in.

“She thinks she saw some of Anthony’s teammates,” Eddy explains, guiding them back to the rest of their friends.

Colette rolls her eyes, looking back to her friend who had already downed more than half her drink. She knew that Addison had a drunken habit of mistaking strangers for people she actually knew, or thought she knew. Just because she thought she saw some of his teammates, that didn’t actually mean anything. “I think we can save the panic for when we know we see him, instead.”

“You’re already panicking about seeing him again?” Becca asks, overhearing only the last part of the conversation as they arrive back at the table.

“We are talking about different people,” Colette says. “I was just with Carter last night.”

“That’s, what, almost every night that’s he’s not away for the last five months that you’ve spent the night together, isn’t it?” Devyn asks, stirring her drink with her straw.

“Yeah,” Colette sighs.

“Oh, no,” Franco groans.

“You guys seem really in to each other.” Becca points out.

“I mean, physically, it’s great. But, he just,” Colette starts, trying to figure out what to say. She knew exactly what bothered her; it was why she broke up with Anthony in the first place. “He doesn’t really know me.”

“Holy shit,” Eddy says, nearly choking on his drink. The group follows his gaze to see that Addison was right; Anthony’s teammates were there at the bar, but so was Anthony.

Not only was he there, but he had his arm around a girl, guiding her through the place to see if they could find an open table, the only one close to them being the one right next to them.

“You make it worse if you freak out,” Devyn scolds him.

“Hi,” Anthony says when he sees her, standing right next to their table.

“Hey, bud,” Eddy greets him, Franco punching him in the arm for the over enthusiasm.

“We’re going to go get more drinks,” Becca says, all of Colette’s friends grabbing their clearly new drinks in front of them and excusing themselves from the table.

Anthony awkwardly chuckles as they all leave, just him and Colette alone for the first time in what felt like forever. “So they haven’t changed.”

Colette felt a pit in her stomach. “You didn’t have to stop talking to them because we don’t talk that much. I mean, you were in Devyn and Franco’s wedding.”

Anthony nods, taking a sip of his drink before setting it down on the table in front of her. He was still standing awkwardly, Colette knowing that he wouldn’t ask to sit down with her. “Talking to them made me think about talking to you.”

The two of them sit in an awkward silence for a moment.

“So who was-”

“I saw you-” they start to say at the same time, both of them letting out a laugh in hopes it would calm them down.

“You first,” Colette tells him.

“I saw you started seeing someone,” he brings up, leaning against the table as he looks down at his drink, a sad smile on his face.

Colette cringes, nodding. She forgot she still had him on her private story. “Yeah, but it won’t last much longer.”

“Oh.”

“I saw you were here with someone?” she asks, gesturing to the girl who was with his teammates.

Anthony looks over, waving at his friends and the girl. “That’s Mat’s little sister. She’s just here to visit.”

“So are you seeing anyone?”

Anthony shakes his head.

“I’m sorry,” Colette hears herself say, gesturing to him to sit down next to her.

He waves her off, taking the seat previously occupied by Franco across from her. “It’s fine. I’ll find someone else eventually.”

“No, I mean,” Colette starts, taking in a deep breath and trying to figure out what to say after all these years of not saying what she wanted to. What she should have said. They both knew they had already found each other and they let it go too soon. “I’m sorry for ending things. I’m sorry for being the reason everything fell apart. I’m sorry I didn’t show you how much I love you the way you showed me.”

Anthony looks up from his drink, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“You knew everything about me. You have my favorite books, you always knew exactly what I wanted to get when we went out to dinner before I had the chance to tell you, you know my mood based on the smallest things I do. You showed me you love me with everything. I didn’t do that for you.”

Anthony gives her a sad smile. “You always showed me you loved me.”

“Not the way you did. I feel like I knew nothing about you the way you knew me.”

Anthony shakes his head. “You know me better than I know myself.” Colette starts to shake her head, about to dispute him when he cuts her off. “If I had a bad game, you always had a cup of tea ready for me when I got home with a note telling me how you knew I’d be fine next game. You never tried to minimize how I felt after a game and listened to everything I told you. If I had to get up early for practice or to leave for a road trip, you had my coffee ready for me before I was even awake sitting on the nightstand waiting for me, even if you hadn’t slept great the night before. I’d open my bag and find the notes you wrote for me hidden in my suit pockets so I’d have them with me in the locker room. You still text me after games to tell me you’re proud of me. You think you didn’t show me you loved me? I’ve never felt more loved by anyone before meeting you.”

“I didn’t think those things meant anything.”

“They meant everything.”

I love you

Colette walks into the studio, paper in hand. She had booked yet another appointment with her favorite artist, Eleni, months ago, going back and forth as to what she wanted. Her left arm was covered in a series of small tattoos as it was, enough space right at the start of her forearm for one last small tattoo.

“Hey, Let,” Eleni greets her.

“Hi, Len,” she smiles back, handing her the piece of paper.

“You want the words, ‘I love you?’” Eleni asks, eyebrow cocked. Colette swallows, knowing that this was the last thing she wanted on her arm. “Whose writing is this? I know it’s not yours.”

“Anthony’s,” Colette admits after what felt like too long of a silence for it to be anyone else's.

“Are you sure you want this?”

Colette forces out a laugh. “Every tattoo on my arm relates to him in some way, you know that. You put them all there. The book with the sun, the solo cup, the wheel of fortune. Might as well finish it off with how we feel about each other.”

Eleni takes in a deep breath, getting Colette ready for her tattoo. “I don’t get why you two aren’t together.”

Colette sighs. “I fucked up. And I don’t think I’ll ever be able to fix it. Not in a way that matters, anyway.” Eleni gives her a sad look, Colette shaking her head and waving it off. “Besides, just because you think you’re ‘meant to be’ with someone, doesn’t mean you’ll actually ‘be.’”

#the summer fic exchange 2k24 #anthony beauvillier #tito beauvillier #anthony beauvillier fic #tito beauvillier fic #pittsburgh penguins #penguins #penguins fic #pittsburgh penguins fic #anthony beauvillier x oc #tito beauvillier x oc #nhl #nhl fic

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spliffymae · 2 years ago

Text

WRITTEN OFF.

synopsis: okay, toji learned his lesson, you can come home now. wait—why does he see you across the room? why are you in that dress he loves so much?…who the fuck is the guy sitting in front of you!?

⚠️black coded, swearing, toji gets jealous, lil bit of sukuna x reader

kio’s notes - yk what, i was never a fuckin’ scout anyways. part 5 after this

pts. 1 , 2 , 3 :)

now playing

⊱ ──────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.}──────── ⊰

you never realized just how much effort it took to get ready. you had been slumming it since starting maternity leave. you had no energy to doll yourself up. not when you had a whole infant to care for. where would the time for you be?

“okay, (y/n). it’s just a little outing with a fine ass man. no big deal.” you mumbled as you looked in the mirror. you had been building up the confidence to go out all day.

you had agreed to grab dinner with sukuna, a guy who’s pets you used to watch. he had told geto how pretty you were and being the best wingman he was, geto set you two up on a date.

but little do you know, geto also planned to be there to see how it was going, and to meet a friend.

and which friend would that be? well none other than your dishonorable ex-husband, toji fushiguro, of course.

you hadn’t even noticed it, thst you two were in the same place. you were too busy focusing on sukuna and his recalling of a mission in budapest.

the date had been going well. he complimented the way you looked when he saw you, giving you a hug and mumbling in your ear that “you look beautiful.” you swore if you could show it, your whole face would be cherry red.

you would catch him looking at your breasts here and there, but it didn’t really bother you. the girls were sitting well, and thanks to breastfeeding they were larger than before. you even caught yourself staring after you finished getting ready.

your body had gone through a lot of changes since carrying rin. you had gained more weight in your stomach and arms, as well as doubling up in stretch marks around your hips and thighs. at first you felt like a totally different person. but as time went on you started to be kinder to yourself. you started to appreciate your new body. hell, it created, grew, and pushed out a whole baby. it was magical!

and if anyone knew how magical your body was, it was toji, who had just walked into the restaurant with his hands shoved in the pockets of his leather jacket.

megumi refused to answer his question about what boyfriend you had, and he ended up just stomping away from his son, mumbling about ‘grabbin’ a drink’ on his way out.

the thought of you moving on was a thought he never came across. why? because he never saw it possible. you two were soulmates, kindred flames that would never be extinguished. so how could you ever move on?

your boyfriend was heavy on toji’s mind. was he as big as toji? was he smaller? did he make you laugh? where did you two meet…the list of questions was a mile long and no end was in sight.

“old friend! why so glum? look like your wife left you.” geto joked as toji joined him at the bar. he was met with a scowl from toji, the side of his lip with the scar lowering in a grimace.

“too soon.” geto mumbled, sending the awkwardness he had created. to make up for it he slid toji a glass of beer. “here, take your mind off it.”

“don’t think i ever will.” toji slumped in the empty bar stool beside geto’s. he took the handle of the glass and brought the rim to his lips to take a big gulp.

“megumi said she got a boyfriend now.” toji scoffed, wiping the foam off his upper lip. “not even legally divorced yet and she went off and found someone else?…fucking bitch.” he shook his head in disbelief.

he didn’t mean it, of course. you were anything but a bitch. but he just hated you right now. hated that you were somewhere giggling at what someone who wasn’t him was saying. toji gulped down the rest of the beer.

“another one.” he spoke to the bartender, pushing the empty glass towards the man, tapping his finger against the glass for another.

geto looked on in amusement, “take it slow, brother. you got kids to go back to.”

toji snorted. “yeah right. i got no one.” the glass of beer was refilled and toji grabbed it. he finished it quick, burping afterward.

geto turned to look behind him, to look at your table. you and sukuna were putting your drink orders in for the waitress.

“it’s saturday night, fushiguro. you’ll find someone.” geto patted his back and turned back around so you didn’t feel eyes on you. toji just rolled his eyes in response.

he would kill to be at the restaurant with you. he hadn’t noticed it until he read the logo on the glass that he was at lovers creek; a family owned restaurant he took you for your first date and proposal.he recognized the place when he pulled up, but the thought of your new relationship weighed too much for him to really process where he’d be stepping back into.

“used to always sit in the booth by the big window with ‘em. megumi would come and sit next to her.” toji traced the logo on the glass. he didn’t realize how bad he’d be hurting being back in this establishment.

“it’s okay to miss her, toji.” geto reassured. he knew toji had a wall around his feelings. an 8ft wall with weapons at the grounds to fight off anyone who tried to come to close. but you had managed to slip through his defenses, and he was infatuated with you for it.

“s’more than just missing her. nothing’s right without her. megumi hates me more than ever and rinny….” toji sucked his teeth, “she won’ even know who i am to her when she’s older.”

geto could see toji’s jaw clench at the thought. he knew how much toji loved his family. how much he cared for you. to lose everything was something he knew toji didn’t want. but he also knew toji wouldn’t fight for you. he knew he was wrong, he knew he hurt you and the kids.

geto sighed, “if you got her back, would shit even change? would you change?”

toji nodded, a burp escaping his lips as he ordered another beer. “would change everything. i’d even try friggin therapy, if it’ll help. i just….i don’t want to lose her. don’t want to lose the little family i have left.”

and geto knew you’d kick his ass for what he was thinking. he knew you would cuss him out and promise to never watch his snakes again, but he couldn’t stand to see toji this way.“ight, if you promise me to change for the better, and to give my goddaughter and nephew the best home and father they could have, i’ll help you get her back.”

toni snorted as he sipped his fourth glass, “and how pray tell are you going to do that?” toji trusted geto about as far as he could throw him. yeah, he was a good friend and great company, but he rarely stood on his words.

geto knew toji had doubts, and he had the smuggest of smiles on his face when he said, “i know where she’s at right now. and i can tell you for a fact she’s with the boyfriend.”

and toji nearly choked on his beer. he sputtered, the liquid hitting his nose and chin, getting him to murmur profanities as he grabbed a napkin to clean himself. “where?”

“do you promise?”

“yes, fuck. okay, i will devote my every last breath to being a better man for my family just tell me where she and that fucker are.” toji didn’t know what he would do when he saw you or your boyfriend. if he were being honest, a part of him wanted to bash the guys skull in—despite not even knowing what he looked like. just the idea that another man thought he could have you, it made him violent.

“table at your six. guy has pink hair.” geto said so casually as he grabbed toji’s glass and finished the rest of his beer. he knew the second toji saw you he would forget about the beverage, so why let a good thing go to waste.

toji turned his body, eyes scanning the tables until he saw his target. and there he was. pink hair gelled up, a tight dress shirt on and tattoos faintly peeking out on his neck, chest and arms. toji looked across at you, and he felt his breath get caught in his throat.

you looked beautiful. your skin practically glowed against the yellow lights of the restaurant, the red dress also aiding in showcasing your flawless complexion. you wore the dress he always told you he loved, the one that you wore the night he proposed.

and as quick as he was in awe at your beauty, he turned angry, jealous. who did you think you were to leave the house like that? for someone who wasn’t him?

he said not a word to geto as he got up and headed to your table.and little did he know, you were desperate for an escape from this date. yes, sukuna was a good looking guy, but there was no depth to him. he seemed to self-absorbed , only speaking when things related to him or he wanted to mention an accolade of his. arrogance, a trait you hated.

you had thought of a plan. you were going to excuse yourself to the bathroom and then come back to say megumi called with an emergency. yeah, that would work. all that had been brought to your table was drinks, so it was too bad to leave.

but as you got ready to get up, you made eye contact with the one person you didn’t want to see tonight. “you have got to be kidding me.” you mumbled in defeat as your exhusband came to your table with narrowed eyes and furrowed brows.

“you think this is funny? coming out to our spot with some guy?” toji was furious. skipping past greetings and getting straight to it.

it had been a horrendous three months for him; guilt, shame, sadness, anger…every emotion possible he felt during the time you were a part.

“whoa, (y/n) who is this?” sukuna was surprised at the sudden interruption. especially considering it was a giant man standing before him, who looked like he wanted to bash the pink haired man’s skull in.

“her fuckin’ husband, the hell are you?” toji gave him a quick glance. he had already sized him up from afar, and if sukuna were to try anything, toji was positive he could take him.

“hey man, she ain’t say nothing about being married.” sukuna raised his hands in defense.

“because i’m not,” you gave toji a warning look, “we’re divorced.”

“separated.” toji corrected.

“and yet here you are.” you sarcastically cheered, earning a glare from toji. sukuna was feeling a bit awkward at the tension.

toji turned around to sukuna, “she tell you she got kids? one sixteen and a baby.”

“ a baby?!” sukuna leaned back in disbelief.

“mhmm, six months old. wants more too. super committed, this one. lucky if she doesn’t trap you.” he dryly chuckled in an attempt to prove the convo was still lighthearted. but anyone with ears could tel it was anything but.

you were gonna say something, but you had no words. you were shocked. you looked to toji with nothing but anger in your eyes. your ex leaned in close to you with a hand on the table. his big frame blocked you from seeing your date and him seeing you.

“get your stuff and let’s go. i’m tired of this, (y/n). you are my wife and we are going to work this out like adults, you understand? now move before i move you.” what was scary about toji’s words wasn’t what he said, but how he spoke. it was calm, concise. he said everything without an intimidating tone but his eyes bore into yours telling you he would stand on his word.

he stood back straight and turned to sukuna, “she has to go now. don’t call her, don’t come to my house, and if i find you anywhere near her i’ll kill you.”

you were pissed! you grabbed your purse and walked right past toji, not even waiting to hear what sukuna’s response would be. you no longer cared. you just wanted to go home and cry in your bed. you pushed open the door to outside and quickly began walking to the parking lot

“(y/n)!” toji followed you, but you ignored him. “damnit woman, can you just wait?!” he called out again, drawing attention to you. something he knew you hated, and knew he would make a scene if you didn’t acknowledge him.

so you stopped and turned to him with a fury burning in your eyes, “what?! what do you want? how the hell did you even know where i was? you stalking me now?”

toji chuckled, “don’t flatter yourself. i got the message loud and clear you wanted me out your life.”

“clearly not enough if you’re still around. what is it, toji? because it’s not about rin. so why the fuck did you do that? y’know how long it’s been since i had a date?!”

toji knew. matter fact, he knew the exact day. “the night after the dinner. i…i took you here to apologize.”

“lie!” you stepped a bit closer to him. he was still a good distance away but you were overcome with rage and wanted him to feel everything. “you took me here to lie, toji! to act like it was saying sorry for being an ass to me but really it wasn’t, huh?”

toji stepped closer, “(y/n)—.”

“—you wanna talk, hm? wanna ‘work this out’? tell me why you did it. tell me what she had that i didn’t.” you folded your arms with hot tears slipping down your cheeks. all you wanted to do was go on a date and get back into the swing of things. toji’s infidelity had did a number on you—on your self esteem, your social life, your mental state. you just wanted a night to reintroduce yourself to the single world.

“she had nothing! how many goddamn times to i have yo apologize, huh? what do you want me to do, (y/n)? you want me to beg? get down on my knees and beg you take me back? i fucked up, i know i did! but for the thousandth time, she meant nothing to me!”

“then why’d you do it?!” you yelled back, your voice shocking s few passerby’s who were walking into or out of the establishment. “i gave you everything! i was the wife you wanted, the mother megumi needed and what were you to me?…missing! you left me to raise a child alone! to carry our baby alone! you. left. me. alone!” and the tears came flowing, your lips quivering and snot slowly peeking out your nose as you stared at him. you hated crying in public—you hated crying in general. but toji couldn’t just leave well enough alone.

he didn’t say anything, he just wrapped his arms around you and pulled you to his chest. you bawled into his shirt, arms still folded and in front of you. “i hate you, toji. so fuckin’ much.” you muffled into his chest.

he didn’t speak, he couldn’t. there was nothing you needed to hear from him right now. he just held you as you cried. it was the first time he held you since the separation, and god knew toji would do everything in his power to hold you as long as he could.

he let a couple minutes go by, at most three, before he spoke up. “did you drive here?” he mumbled into your hair.

you shook your head.

“can i take you home?”

pt.5

#Spotify #🌞🍃spliffymae #jjk⋞〈⏣》⋟#toji x black reader #toji x black y/n #baby daddy toji #ex husband toji #anime x black!reader #toji zenin #toji x reader #jjk #angst #sukuna x black reader #spliffymae

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moonselune · 4 months ago

Note

if this is too far out there i totally understand you turning down the request but o_o could you maybe do the ladies post-game with a bhaal rejecting durge who found a way to spare and now took in orin to help her rehabilitate (so now they and durge live together as a couple and orin is kind of a roommate). Would there be tensions? Do some just outright make an ultimatum?

Okay okay so gonna do this as more headcanony and see where it goes

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Karlach:

She would be so wary

Probably thinks you are just got hit a bit too hard in the head during battle

"How many Mama K's do you see babe?"

You manage to convince her that if you are going to Avernus to kill Zariel, we might as well bring the incest murder baby with us

Orin's just stood there like "please I'm so good at it."

Karlach groans and relents, kicking the dirt and murmuring something about cannon fodder

Orin is elated and swears on her favourite dagger that she will not kill anyone she is not allowed to

I can see your relationship with her getting better through this because she can prove herself doing the one thing she does best

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Minthara:

just no

this would be an ultimatum

at the end of the day you are choosing Minthara and offering up Orin to her as an apology for even thinking it

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Lae'zel:

Also cannot imagine Lae'zel allowing Orin near you

maybe if you join her to lead the coup against Vlaakith, for similar reasons as Karlach

But if she is staying in Baldurs Gate with lil Gith egg baby Xan

absolutely no way

would also ask if you got hit too hard in the head during battle

Lae'zel would not be able to trust Orin and would just have to kill her whether you liked it or not

she could not live knowing Orin is lurking somewhere, good intentions or not.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Shadowheart:

Surprisingly I feel like shadowheart would be the most accommodating

like orin can stay on your farm

maybe in an old barn or something

but she can stay

any animals get hurt though and Orin is out

Unless they are predators to Shadowheart's animals

then Orin is like a guard dog

"Yeah you can get those ones"

Orin would probably rehabilitate the best out here and would have the best chance of fixing herself and your relationship with her

we've made her touch some grass <3

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Jaheira:

She's way too old for this shit

She would be so torn up because she has had so much experience with Bhaalspawns

A part of her thinks she should help, because if she hadn't helped you then you two would never have fallen in love

but I think Orin's eccentricity would put her off and she can't risk losing the people she has fought so dear to protect

and a part of her doesn't want to have to fight anymore

she wants to join being with her family, being with you

not having to look over her shoulder just in case her sister-in law got in a mood and now there's one less place at the dinner table

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

These are a bit short, but I like these requests because it really makes me think how they would react and what they would want not only for yourself but for you

Anyways hope y'all enjoyed it even if this was a bit more rambley - Seluney xox

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swimmingismywholelife · 1 year ago

Text

The Only Reason

Summary: Even though your relationship with Christian has been rocky, neither of you are willing to go down without a fight.

Warnings: 18+, arguments, panic attack, a lot of crying, angst but a fluffy (if you can call it that I guess) ending, SMUT, some dirty talk, soft dom!Chris, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it and make sure you're not allergic to your wrap!), fingering, oral (f receiving), creampie, the smut is sweet tbh

WC: 4.4K

A/N: It's my birthday but this is a present for all of you! Inspired by "The Only Reason" by 5 Seconds of Summer. My first attempt at smut which lowkey I wasn't supposed to add but it fit anyway. This is a step considering I'm openly horny on main now so you might see more in the future 👀. I literally changed it 1274045923845 times but I'm happy with the way it turned out so I hope you guys think it's good-

"Even though my dizzy head is numb

I swear my heart is never giving up.

You're the reason

The only reason."

~~~

The front door slammed shut, indicating Christian was finally home from training. You sighed, praying this would blow over quickly so you could enjoy your dinner.

The past few weeks had been incredibly frustrating for the both of you. Chelsea had been on a losing streak with hardly any goals and Christian hardly got any play time. He was in the middle of trying to negotiate some sort of deal with the club, either to transfer or give him more playing time. Although it wasn't the option he preferred, it was likely he'd be transferred somewhere else soon, and with that contract talks had to be opened. He loved Chelsea, but the club didn't seem to return that love to him. It heavily weighed on Christian's mind, slowly draining him of the love he had for the sport, sending him deeper into a depressive and angry spiral causing him lash out on everyone.

On top of that, your own stresses had started building up. Your workload had tripled due to you being short staffed. Every time you thought you were done with a project, a modification was added or a brand new one was added to your list of things to do. You were working overtime almost every single day and you were close to ripping your hair out.

Between your work and Christian's training, you'd hardly seen each other over the past few months. He'd been extra short with you recently, something that was pretty unusual for Christian. You were typically the one who struggled to keep your anger in check, but these days it seemed your boyfriend could give you a run for your money. Most days you spent sleeping away from each other as opposed to being cuddled in each others arms. During the very brief moments you did end up spending time together, more often than not it resulted in some kind of an argument.

You both agreed earlier that morning that you were in desperate need of some kind of date night to ease your minds and to spend time together. You decided that a simple dinner would be sufficient enough. It was something small, you wouldn't have to go anywhere, and it was always one of your favorite date ideas since you'd gotten together. You were excited to finally spend time with your boyfriend even if it wasn't anything fancy.

But you knew by the way Christian slammed the door that he thought otherwise. He angrily threw his training bag to the side, grumbling to himself.

"Chris, it doesn't do you any good to pace angrily around the house," you sighed. "At least come eat and try to take your mind off things."

It seemed you only made him angrier.

"God, what don't you get?!" he snapped back. "Fucking food isn't gonna help the situation. Our team is shit, this situation is shit, everything is shit!"

You stood up from your place at the table, upset with Christian for yelling at you when you just wanted to help.

"I understand you're frustrated with everything, but don't take it out on me!" you yelled back. "All I'm trying to do is help you. I'm not a fucking emotional punching bag for you to take your shit out on Christian!"

He slammed his hands on the table, the sound echoing throughout the entire house. It startled you. Christian wasn't one to express his anger through violence like this.

"Why do I even keep fucking trying with you?! All you do is nag and nag and nag! You keep 'trying to help' but you're not!" he screamed back. "All you do is get in my face of 'oh Christian do this,' 'oh Christian try and do that.' Get out of my face for once I'm fucking tired of it!"

You were stunned. Your heart with each word Christian spat out at you. You loved him, but you knew you didn't deserve what he'd been giving you for the past few months.

"Fine. I'll 'get out of your face,'" you said calmly.

"Actually you know what? I'll do it myself. Being in here suffocates me," he said venomously, grabbing his keys and storming out the house.

You moved into the bedroom the two of you shared. What once felt like home to you felt like a prison suffocating you the longer you stood in it. And you just fell to your knees and cried.

You couldn't pinpoint the exact moment where it all started going wrong. You and Christian weren't perfect of course, but you just worked. You understood each other like no one else. You'd experienced things together that you'd never had with other people. You hadn't grown up with Christian in the past, but that didn't matter. He was your present and was going to be your future.

But that was then. Somewhere along the way, things changed. Nowadays he barely made time for you. He was gone before you woke up and you were asleep before he came home. Date nights were nonexistent, special occasions stopped being special. You couldn't keep begging for his attention, wondering if this time would be enough to keep it.

You didn't want things to end. That was absolutely the last thing you wanted to do. You loved Christian with everything you had. But you were the only one trying and you both knew that. Somewhere Christian just fell out of love with you while you were desperately trying to grasp onto something. But it was no use. He was gone a long time ago.

Christian was in the middle of figuring out the trajectory of his career, unsure if he was to wait out his contract with Chelsea for the next season or leave for a club that truly appreciated him. And pretty soon, he would be flying back to the States for international break. The last thing you wanted to do was add onto the stress Christian was feeling.

But how long would you have to keep sacrificing your own happiness for the sake of his?

Christian didn't come home that night, nor the night after that, nor the night after that. Not that you really expected him to. He hadn't been home all that much anyway, and even while he was there physically, he wasn't there. So sleeping alone in your bed wasn't that much of a foreign feeling anymore anyway. And the longer he was away, the foggier your mind became. The answer was right there in front of you. This was Christian blatantly telling you how he felt about your relationship. Right?

It wasn't until about a week later that Christian had contacted you, letting you know he'd be coming back that night. You mentally prepared yourself for the worst.

The door opened, causing you to snap out of your thoughts. You could hear the clattering of the keys being placed on the table and footsteps heading up the stairs.

The lights flickered in your bedroom. Your eyes met his, startling him.

"Oh hey, I didn't realize you'd still be up," Christian said surprised, removing his jacket and placing it on a chair.

"We need to talk Christian," you said, trying to prevent your voice from wavering.

"We'll talk in the morning, Y/N. It's kind of late and I don't want another fight right now," he responded.

"I'm serious Christian," you answered, feeling your heart breaking already. "And I don't think this can wait until morning."

"Why do you keep using my full name?" Christian asked uncomfortably. "You only use it like this when something's really wrong."

You didn't answer. Instead you got up from your place on the bed and hugged his waist, completely breaking down. You felt like you couldn't breathe through all the tears and the pain you felt. Your body gave out as you fell to the ground, taking Christian with you.

For a second time that night, Christian was surprised. He immediately wrapped his arms around you, kissing your head.

"Hey, hey, baby what's wrong? What's going on?" he asked.

You couldn't get the words out. You only cried harder as he led you back to your bed. You took in this moment with him, not knowing if this was the last night you would sharing with him. You tried to memorize the scent of his favorite cologne, how perfectly you fit into his arms, the way his kisses felt. You wanted to remember how safe you felt with Christian and how your heart longed for him to come home to you.

"It's okay, baby, it's okay. I'm right here. I won't ever let anything hurt you," he said, trying to soothe you.

Little did he realize he was the reason you were hurting so much.

You held Christian close to you as the weight of your decision started to kick in. You wanted nothing more in this world than to be with Christian. He meant everything to you. You wanted it all with him. You wanted to marry him one day, carry his children, grow old together. You wanted to wear his last name to every game he played, to support him as he reached all his dreams. You could have nothing but Christian and you would be perfectly content.

Your mother had told you growing up that every scenario that came your way had three answers: yes, no, or wait. And you so desperately wanted to believe Christian was your sign that being patient was worth it. That waiting would be worth it. That one day it would bring you the happiness you craved and you deserved.

But how long were you supposed to wait? How long had you waited for him to fulfill his promises? How long had you been patient with him? How long had you stayed loyal every time he'd taken his anger out on you? How long had you been contemplating if you were worth saving? Was this just patience or were you holding onto something that you should've let go of a long time ago?

"I'm sorry for what I said earlier baby," he said, stroking your hair trying to soothe you. "I didn't mean it. I love you so much. I'm sorry. I'm so, so, so sorry."

You couldn't get words out. You needed just one last night to call yourself his before you could make your final decision.

"Just hold me please," you sobbed out, gripping his body as hard as you could.

"I'll do whatever you need baby. I'm right here. I'll always be right here."

Christian was scared. He didn't fully understand what was going on or why you were crying the way you were. But he knew something was off and something was wrong. So he just held you as you let out all the emotions you'd been feeling for weeks.

Christian knew it was more serious than he initially thought when you kept crying for over an hour. He didn't realize how absent he'd been from your life until then. How long had you been feeling such emotional turmoil? What else had he missed? Why were you crying this hard for so long?

Truthfully, he was afraid to find out. As shitty of a boyfriend he'd been over the past few weeks, Christian loved you with every fiber of his being. The last thing he wanted to do was lose you, the relationship you'd built up for years together.

But he knew the likelihood of a break up was probably looming in your mind. Was this it? Was this a sign that something was coming to an end? He didn't want to know. He knew you two needed to talk, especially after the way he walked out. But he was afraid of the outcome.

So he just held you close to him, praying this wouldn't be the last time he got to feel you like this. He took in your scent, trying to memorize the way you felt in his arms. He left kisses on your forehead, shoulders, and cheeks, wiping the tears away as he went.

You eventually calmed down, your grip on Christian never loosening.

"Christian I-" you gasped out.

"It's okay baby, take your time. You don't have to rush anything you don't want to," he whispered gently, kissing your forehead again.

"I'm sorry," you said quietly.

"Baby, you have nothing to be sorry about," he said. "If anything, I should be the one who's sorry. I've been such a horrible boyfriend. I shouldn't have said what I said, I shouldn't have done what I did."

"Christian…" you trailed.

"Shh, it's okay baby. It's okay. We don't have to talk about this right now. We can talk about this in the morning. Just let me hold you right now. Everything is going to be okay," he said softly.

"Chris I'm scared," you whispered.

His heart broke a little knowing you were scared of what morning would entail.

"I'm scared too baby. I'm so fucking scared," he admitted. "But we'll talk about this when it comes okay? Just be here with me now. Nothing else is going to hurt you tonight I promise."

The two of you were laying on your side facing each other. Your head was tucked into his chest, tears flowing every so often. Christian never once let go, not even when his arms started going numb. You were afraid to close your eyes, scared that Christian would be gone the moment you opened them.

Your body stopped shaking and you eventually stopped crying during the early morning hours. You were quiet. And if he didn't know you well, Christian would've believed you were asleep.

But he knew better. He knew that you couldn't sleep because neither could he. Just two souls barely hanging on by a thread not knowing how to fix it.

Did you want to fix things? Or were things so far gone there was nothing you could do anymore? Was this still worth it? Was a future still possible? Would love be enough to save this?

You were set on breaking up with him the night before. You were so sure that's what you wanted. But under the moonlight that peaked through your window, you didn't know what to do anymore. Your head was dizzy with thoughts and you couldn't think clearly anymore.

"Christian?" you called out quietly.

"Yeah?"

"What are we doing?"

His body tensed at the question. He was quiet at first, not wanting to say the wrong thing. He knew this was it. His answer would either make or break your relationship.

"I don't know baby," he answered honestly.

You nestled your head further into his chest.

"I don't want to keep doing this. Guessing if you still want us. You're either in or you're out Chris. I don't want to keep playing your games."

Christian had to stop himself from letting out a sob and took a deep breath. You didn't trust him or his words anymore. And realizing that absolutely broke his heart.

"Can you look at me Y/N?" he asked.

You hesitated for a moment before lifting your head. Christian cupped your cheek with his hand, gently rubbing his thumb back and forth. He rested his forehead on yours.

"You don't have to say anything okay? Just hear me out. I know I've been a shitty boyfriend. I know I haven't been there for you. I haven't treated you well. I've lashed out on you when you've done nothing but love and support me. Through all the shit the world's thrown at me this season, you've been everything I need and more. And I haven't appreciated that. And you deserve so much more than what I've been giving you."

Christian stopped for a moment, taking the opportunity to look at you. How could he have hurt you so bad? How could he let everything slip between his fingers?

"I'm sorry for everything I've put you through. I'm sorry that you've lost trust in my words. You always tell me that my words, my actions, and my intentions need to line up and they haven't been and I'm so sorry for that. I'm sorry I've broken so many promises. And most of all, I'm sorry that you're hurting and I'm the cause of it when I told you I'd never let anyone hurt you. I failed to see what was right in front of me and I've taken you for granted and I'm so sorry."

A tear fell from your eye, quickly caught by Christian's thumb.

"I don't deserve you. I really don't. You know that and I know that better than anyone."

He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead further into yours.

"But please don't give up on us. I know you can't trust my words right now, but I swear to you I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I can't let you go. Not now and not ever. No more games. No more confusion. No more trying to guess where my head and where my heart stand with you. Right here, right now, forever and always I'm with you. My head is with you. My heart is with you. All of me is with you. And I promise I'll prove it every day for as long as I live. So please. Give me one last chance to be with you."

You didn't know what to say. You didn't know what you wanted anymore. How could you trust him? He was saying all the right words, but did he really mean it? Were they more empty words?

Yes, no, or wait. Just like your mother said. But you'd waited so long that it seemed almost futile. Had you been wasting your time? Or was this what you were meant to do?

And though your head was fighting with itself, dizzy and numb from the constant questions running around, you knew where your heart lied. So you did the only thing you felt could portray how you felt enough to give him and answer.

You lifted your chin and kissed him deeply, wrapping your arms around his neck. His grip on your cheek was firm, bringing you as close as you could physically get. The tears wouldn't stop flowing from either of your faces, but none of that mattered. What mattered was here and now.

Yes, no, or wait. And you finally got your answer.

He kissed you like you were the oxygen he needed to breathe. And truthfully, he needed you to breathe.

You pulled back ever so slightly, just enough for you to be able to talk.

"You get one chance at this Chris. Only one," you said breathlessly. "Don't waste it."

His lips were back on yours in response, his teeth tugging on your bottom lip. You let out a soft moan as he pushed you onto your back, settling himself in between your legs. He pulled back keeping his forehead to yours breathing heavily.

"I love you Y/N. I love you so much you don't even know," he said. "I won't waste it. Not ever again."

You grabbed his shirt and pulled him back to your lips, needing to feel him closer. Your hands traveled underneath his shirt, nails scratching his skin lightly as they roamed his chest.

Christian pulled back from you for a moment to rip his shirt off before attaching his lips back to yours, giving you more access to him. You couldn't keep your hands off each other, your legs wrapping around his hips to bring you even closer to him.

"Chris," you whispered. "I need-"

"I know baby," he answered. "I know. Let me take care of you."

You whimpered beneath him as his lips moved to your neck, leaving a trail of marks as he gave you sloppy but gentle kisses. He bit down on the spot just below your ear, causing you to let out a loud moan.

"Does that feel good baby?" he whispered into your ear, sending shivers down your spine that resonated throughout your whole body.

"God yes Chris it feels so good please," you begged beneath him.

His hands grabbed the bottom of your shirt, bringing it over your head and pressing his chest against yours as he kissed your lips gently.

"So fucking beautiful. And all mine," he said to himself.

His lips returned to your neck, this time the trail leading to your breasts. You gasped as you felt his tongue along your nipple, pressing yourself further into his mouth. You only squirmed more as he moved to your other side, your fingers tangled in his hair tugging lightly. He kissed down your torso until he reached the band of your shorts.

"May I?" he asked softly.

You nodded your head frantically.

"Words baby." His fingers hooked into them, toying with the fabric. "You know the drill. I can't give you what you want unless you tell me."

"Yes please," you whined, wiggling your hips in the hopes of getting the clothing off you faster.

"Please what Y/N?"

"Please take them off Chris please. I wanna feel you on my pussy please, please, please."

"Good girl."

He slowly slid your shorts down, taking a little too long for your liking. He kissed down your stomach, loving how you were falling apart beneath him.

His fingers rubbed over the dark spot of your underwear. You gasped, hands grabbing the sheets tightly. He moved his fingers almost in a trance watching as the patch grew darker and larger.

"You're so fucking wet baby. You like it when I touch you like this?" he chuckled.

"Yes I love feeling you play with my pussy!" you moaned, grinding your hips against his fingers.

Christian pulled your underwear to the side. You shivered in anticipation as you felt Christian's breath on your lips.

"Can I taste you?" he asked, running his fingers through your folds.

"God yes! Please let me feel your tongue," you begged, lacing your fingers through his hair to bring him closer.

"As you wish princess."

Your back arched the moment his tongue made contact with you. He licked from the bottom all the way to your clit, lightly sucking on it. You moaned tugging at his curls. The louder you moaned, the faster he went alternating between licking and sucking. Your thighs closed around his head as you pushed him closer to you.

You were so lost in the pleasure that you were surprised when Christian inserted two of his fingers into your folds. You moaned even louder at the intrusion.

"God Christian more please. Please I need more!"

You were begging, but you didn't even know what you were begging for. You just wanted him to keep going.

Christian was enjoying every second of this. He loved watching you fall apart beneath him.

"You need more baby? So greedy. My tongue sucking on your clit and my fingers deep inside your pussy. What else could you want?" he teased, picking up the speed as he fucked you with his fingers.

You couldn't form any proper sentences anymore. Incoherent noises left your mouth as your body started shaking uncontrollably, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

"Damn baby you're shaking. Are you close already? I've barely even done anything," he mused, inserting a third finger and fucking you even faster.

"God I'm so fucking close please let me cum! Please please please I need to cum please Christian please!" you all but screamed.

"Shh, it's okay. You can cum baby. Let it go for me," he said softly.

Your vision went blank as you came, your hands grasping at Christian's curls to anchor you to reality. Your legs shook violently as Christian continued coaxing your climax out of you, only slowing down as your body started spasming with overstimulation.

"Christian I need more," you whined, gasping for air.

"I know baby, I know. I'll take good care of you," he said. "I'm right here okay?"

Christian kissed your lips gently, making your heart flutter. He softly caressed your face admiring how you glowed under the moonlight. You melted under his gaze holding him close to you.

"You okay?" he asked.

You nodded, giving him the go ahead. He moved back just enough to remove his bottoms before taking his place between your legs again. He placed both of his hands gently on your cheeks, resting his forehead against yours. He looked deep into your eyes as his thrusted his hips into yours. You gasped into his mouth as he picked up the speed, grinding slow but deep.

"I love you Christian," you moaned breathlessly.

"I love you Y/N," he responded. "I love you so much. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me and I'm sorry I made you feel otherwise. And I'll spend the rest of my life proving my worth to you."

The room was quiet except for the skin slapping against each other and the soft gasps you let out. You grabbed Christian's neck, bringing him as close as you possibly could. You needed him in every sense of the word, wanting to feel every inch of his skin on yours. He was yours and you were his. Your bodies intertwined in the same way your souls had all those years ago and that was all you really needed.

"Chris I need-" you were cut off with a particularly deep thrust making you moan, tugging at the curls on the nape of Christian's neck.

"I'm close too baby. Cum with me. Become one with me Y/N."

You had one of the strongest orgasms you'd ever had in your life. Your chest pressed into his as his cum filled you up, clenching your pussy around him. You held each other tightly, afraid to lose one another as space came between you.

The both of you laid there for a moment, basking in the afterglow of being so intimate. You gasped into each others mouths as your heartrates began to slow down ever so slightly.

"God you're so beautiful. The most beautiful woman I've ever seen," Christian said in awe of you.

You flushed beneath him becoming shy.

"Babe you just came all over my dick. You really shouldn't be that shy," he said cheekily. You scoffed and hit his chest slightly.

"You're actually ridiculous," you said lovingly, pressing your lips to his for a quick kiss.

He pecked you once more before pulling out of you. He got up, grabbing a towel and gently cleaning your body. He left kisses as he went, worshipping your body. Once he was done, he laid on his back bringing your head onto his chest. He kissed the top of your head as you tucked yourself beneath his arm.

"Are we okay Christian?" you asked meekly.

"Yeah baby. We're okay. We're gonna be okay."

Taglist: @pulisicsgirl @chelseagirl98 @thoseboysinblue @neverinadream @lizzypotter14 @masonsrem @masonspulisic @notsoattractivearenti @lovelynikol16 @bracedes @mortirolo @nyctophilic0vitnir

#christian pulisic #christian pulisic angst #christian pulisic smut #christian pulisic x reader #christian pulisic imagine #christian pulisic fic #swimmingismywholelife

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