#been having a mediocre day today | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hairyjocktf · 4 months

Text

The New Cub

Jaden was a real estate agent in Denver, and quite a good one at that. He prided himself on that fact, having been the top agent at his firm for four years running. He was only 27 too, having gotten his license after high school with ease. Once he got that first commission check he never looked back. This had been a big week for him, closing a deal on a multi-million dollar house that was netting him a nice bonus. It’d taken a lot of work and effort, but as he walked into his apartment just hours after the signing he breathed a sigh of relief. He’d planned to take a few days off as a reward, some time to pamper himself like he deserved. He walked into his room, stripping off the well fitted blazer before undoing the buttons on his shirt. Water gushed from the faucet as he filled his tub with a warm bath and opened the windows, letting in that cool fall air. His belt and pants fell to the floor next as he admired his slim body in the mirror.

Jaden was the ideal twink, with a tall and thin form that he kept supple and hairless with a meticulous daily routine. He slowly rubbed his hands down over his tight stomach, feeling the smooth skin he loved before sliding off his underwear. The warm water bubbled as he stepped in, sliding his body below the surface as water cascaded across his shaved legs. The tension in his shoulders melted away, the water sapping away the stress of the week. Birdsong echoed in through the open windows, and Jaden entered a state of pure relaxation. For all of five minutes, at least. Unable to be alone with his thoughts for too long, his long, near skeletal arm reached from the tub and grasped his phone. This may be his vacation but he sure wasn’t going to spend it at home relaxing.

He quickly opened up grindr. He glanced at the dozens of messages from the last few days but didn’t open a single one, opting instead to scroll and scroll, unsure of what he was actually looking for. Every few seconds he would get a tap or message, he knew his profile worked. It had for years, with his perfectly smooth and slim body appealing to a wide audience. He normally went for the tech guys who were in perfect shape, but that didn’t seem appealing today. Neither did a younger twink. He was about to put the app down when he got a message from what looked to be a guy in his late 30s, but in great shape. Good definition, and fully shaved, he noted.

“Afternoon gorgeous,” the message said, “got any weekend plans? Been looking for a handsome man to spoil a bit.” Jaden paused. Normally he didn’t care for offers like this, but he’d been unsatisfied from anything else so far. Plus, this was his weekend to spoil himself, why not let someone else help out? He typed out a response.

“Hey there :) Would love to be treated nice this weekend, what do you suggest?” He read it and deleted it all in disgust. “Thanks babe, I’d say I deserve a bit of spoiling this weekend, what's your offer?” he typed again, and then sent. A few seconds later a reply had already shown up.

“I’ve got a nice house with a mountain view, and I can promise the best meal of your life and the best sex you’ll ever have. Your choice for the details, of course,” the man said with a winky emoji. Not having to cook dinner was pretty appealing, and if it turned out to be mediocre he could always leave. It was just the first night of his time off after all.

“Sounds lovely,” Jaden sent back, “Where’s this beautiful estate of yours?” A location appeared just seconds later. It was out in the western fringes of the city, a hefty drive. He knew the neighborhood though, and it was a nice one. Couldn’t hurt to give this guy a shot, he thought, rising out of the now lukewarm tub waters.

After a lengthy session of getting ready, Jaden set out for this luxury evening he’d been promised. The sun was already beginning to dip in the sky, promising a lovely sunset over the mountains. He pulled off the highway after about thirty minutes, navigating the twisting residential roads before finally arriving at a slightly secluded house at the top of a ridge. His first reaction was to how beautiful the property was, being a realtor and all. The view the man had offered seemed to be true, now he just had to test the rest of it. He checked himself in the rear view mirror, making sure his hair was tufted just right before stepping out into the cool evening air. He walked up the steps to a heavy oak door and rang the bell, hearing it echo inside. Heavy footsteps shook the ground as they approached, the door unlocked, and Jaden’s eyes went wide.

The man in the doorway was not the man he’d seen on grindr. This guy was a full-fledged daddy bear, older, fatter, and much, much hairier. He answered the door in just his tight underwear, showing off his large body that was completely coated in hair. Numerous tattoos were buried under the fur, barely recognizable. A thick salt and pepper beard adorned his face, which wore a wide grin.

“Well look at you kiddo, glad you showed!” the man said with a deep, smoky voice.

Jaden was taken aback, he’d never been in this situation. It wasn’t like the photos he saw were just a little out of date, this was an entirely different guy! At a loss of what to say, all he managed to get out was, “You… you’re not the guy in the pics!”

The man laughed, “Oh those photos, they were of my last project, don’t worry about them. Name’s Glenn. Why don’t you come in?” He took a step forward and reached out his hand.

Jaden’s brain was on red alert, he’d been catfished, lied to, and he needed to leave immediately. The old man in front of him was not at all what he was into, but that was the least of his concern at this point. What did he mean by ‘last project’? Why would he use pics that weren’t him?

But suddenly, as Glenn stepped forward, a warm air washed over him coming from inside. It was smoky, almost rustic, but also smelled strongly of sweat and musk. His numerous trains of thought came to a screeching halt. He took a deep inhale through his nose, the smell dulling his senses in a way he couldn’t possibly notice. The outstretched hand looked so welcoming suddenly, and hadn’t he been promised dinner? The worries about the man were quickly fading, replaced by feelings of comfort. He took Glenn’s hand and stepped through the doorway without another thought.

The inside of the house was larger than he’d expected, decorated almost in the style of a mountain cabin. It was cozy, with lots of bookshelves and wood paneling that had fallen out of style among his customers, but he strangely liked it here. Glenn led him through multiple rooms until reaching a large patio overlooking the mountains, the sunset still gaining colors in the background. Glenn sat him down on a large sofa.

“Make yourself comfortable, I’ll be right back with some food,” he said before trotting back into the house. Jaden stared out over the vista, wondering briefly why he’d said yes, before that thought too fell out of his mind. His mind was relaxed, yet a little foggy, almost similar to the feeling of poppers. He slouched further into the cushions waiting for Glenn to return with whatever feast he’d prepared. He caught himself even drooling at the thought, which shook him somewhat out of his daze, he couldn’t be acting like that. Just then Glenn walked back out with a huge plate of lamb chops, still sizzling. He set it down on a nearby table and motioned for Jaden to join him.

He sat down at the table and looked over the spread Glenn had prepared. The man hadn’t lied, it was an impressive feast. Jaden usually didn’t eat red meat but something about tonight felt different. As soon as Glenn sat down that same strong scent returned. This time it was more pungent, more reminiscent of the smell of sweat, and it made that foggy feeling return stronger than it’d initially been. But Jaden forgot about it when Glenn looked over with a smile.

“I think you’ll like this, son, it’s a tried and true family recipe after all!” he exclaimed before digging in. The word son rang in Jaden’s ears for a moment before he too dug into the food.

Despite his previous aversion to red meat he scarfed it down; it was absolutely delicious. He barely had time to speak in between bites, but Glenn didn’t seem to mind, watching Jaden devour the meal he’d prepared. Soon enough, his plate was empty, and Glenn admired the bulging stomach he could see pressing against Jaden’s tight shirt.

“Fuck, that was amazing,” Jaden said between burps. What was going on with him? First eating all that food and now burping like some degenerate caveman? But he was far past caring, already entering a sort of food coma. Glenn got up and went back to the couch, gesturing for Jaden to follow. He did so eagerly and tucked himself under Glenn’s open arm. Jaden would have never previously hooked up with a bear, but he was surprised to enjoy the feeling of a large furry body embracing him. Even more surprising was how obviously his dick sprang to life in his pants when Glenn’s hand dipped under the fabric. Glenn pulled Jaden closer to him, smiling at him as he stealthily attached a testosterone patch on Jaden’s back. It was time to see how far he could take this one.

The combination of Glenn’s powerful musk and enormous meal had Jaden completely subdued, ready to accept anything. His thick hands glided over Jaden’s smooth skin, sending shivers through his body. No other guy had been this effective with just his hands. Glenn ramped it up from there, kissing up and down Jaden’s body, feeling him shudder with pleasure. He rubbed his own hairy body against Jaden’s hairless one, subliminally inflicting him with desires yet to be realized. He couldn’t wait to see what Jaden would become. The next few hours were a blur as the sun fell below the mountains and the stars lit their passionate embrace. Glenn edged Jaden for hours, keeping him on the brink of ecstasy. He could feel the prickle of hairs as they began resurfacing in Jaden’s shaved groin. Finally after hours he let Jaden finish, spraying cum all over his slim body. Glenn massaged it into his skin as they cuddled, and Jaden passed out shortly after. That was just the beginning, Glenn thought to himself as he applied another patch to the sleeping Jaden’s body.

Jaden arose the next morning to the smell of breakfast in the making; Glenn was preparing another feast for him. His body was still sore from the night before, causing him to groan as he got out of the bed. Glenn poked his head into the room.

“Morning, handsome,” he said with a chipper voice, “food’s almost ready!”

“I appreciate it but I should probably head out,” Jaden replied, looking for his clothes on the floor.

“Naw, what’re you sayin’ that for? We’ve got plenty more time,” Glenn assured him, stepping further into the room. That same familiar musk washed over Jaden again, and just like that he was more agreeable.

“You’re right, and I’m starving,” he said with renewed energy. Glenn came back moments later with a platter stuffed with waffles, bacon, what must have been a dozen eggs, and more. The urge to stuff himself again took hold of Jaden, who tore his way through the breakfast. Glenn watched with a grin, seeing Jaden’s belly puff out just a little more than the night before. They spent the rest of the day cuddling, making out, having more sex. Jaden was in heaven, not noticing when Glenn applied new patches to his back after the first ones had fallen off. His thoughts about getting back to his apartment faded while Glenn’s thick scent fogged up his head. It all felt so good, why would he want to leave?

That evening they showered together, Glenn’s sweat covering Jaden along with his own cum. He sensually washed Jaden’s body with his custom soap, scented like pine and infused some ingredients to encourage hair growth. He felt up and down Jaden’s body, noticing some areas that weren’t quite so smooth anymore. Hairs had begun to surface not only in his groin, but across his thighs, and even on his chest. Just small pinpricks for now. As they were drying off afterward Glenn placed another patch under Jaden’s shoulder blade. He also noticed how Jaden’s previously boney frame had softened just a tad.

The days continued to pass in a similar manner, Glenn and Jaden spending every moment intertwined as Glenn slowly but surely molded Jaden. He was changing day by day from the definition of a twink to something else. Brown stubble sprouted sparsely across his chin and lip, his chest had begun to push out into soft pecs adorned with their own fuzz. His previously shaved armpits had stubble pushing out, with new hairs joining each day. His similarly shaved pubes were returning with a vengeance, growing in quicker and spreading further than they ever had before. Fat was clinging to his thin frame, he was filling out.

As Jaden’s body hair started coming in, Glenn would spend more and more time rubbing his hands through it. It was an electric feeling for Jaden, he’d never known it could feel that being hairy. And he was slowly craving it more and more. Glenn continued putting testosterone patches on him as well as a number of other products he’d tried with other guys before. He wanted this cub to be perfect. Jaden’s vacation had long passed but he was oblivious, forgetting more and more each day about his previous life as he dedicated his new one to Glenn. Every day he rubbed against Glenn’s weathered, hairy body and desired it all for himself. He loved the attention, being spoiled and cared for. He didn’t even notice that every meal was huge to ensure he packed on the pounds quickly.

Days turned to weeks, as Jadens body continued to mold to Glenn’s form. Glenn decided it was time for more progress, and introduced Jaden to his home gym. He slowly introduced a routine before pushing Jaden harder than he’d ever exercised in his life. Glenn took pride in having some strength under his gut, and he wanted his cub to have some solid muscle too. That’s when the testosterone patches turned to injections. Stronger and more effective, Glenn was pushing his cubs transformation into full gear.

The thin wisps of hair that dotted his chest thickened and multiplied, with larger pecs pushing out as well. The chest hair spread out from his nipples and up towards his neck, and even out towards his shoulders, connecting with the pit hair that had really started to sprout. What had once been a smooth shaven pit was now erupting into a forest. The hairs darkened, grew coarse and wiry, and really began to hold his sweat in. Between that and the workouts Jaden was starting to produce his own sweaty musk at a rapid rate. His beard also grew denser and darker, peach fuzz flooded with testosterone until it became real fur, pushing out of his face. Every day the hairs grew longer, darker, and Glenn was there to feel it all, stroking his cub’s growing beard as it came in.

Each day for Jaden began to follow a pattern; he ate plenty, worked out for hours, and was intimate with Glenn for the rest of it. He would do daily testosterone injections and used Glenn’s hair growth wash. He had grown to love what was happening to him, with continuous positive reinforcement from Glenn, who would comment on his progress. He would point out during sex how much larger his cock and balls had gotten, immediately giving Jaden an erection. It was true though, what had once been a thin six inch cock was now pushing past eight and as thick as a beer can, with balls the size of lemons dangling below.

His pubes had hit the same growth spurt. What had once been a small shaven patch had erupted into a verdant jungle of hair. Over the weeks they had pushed out slowly, growing darker and curlier, tangling together as more and more hairs pushed through the skin and sprouted out. The bush spread out from the base of his cock, coating his entire groin and reaching up to his stomach and out onto his thighs. His massive balls received their own dense fur coat; the wiry hairs so thick you could barely see through the forest. Hairs had even started climbing up his shaft, giving it an almost animalistic look. Glenn loved this, edging Jaden for hours every day playing with his thick pubes and enormous balls. The hairs blended seamlessly up to the rug on his chest, coating his continually growing belly in more and more hair.

Jaden had put on so much size that his clothes no longer fit. Glenn of course supplied him with everything he could want, though he rarely wore more than just underwear. He loved the way a tank top looked while working out, his gut pressed tight against the fabric while still showing off his hairy chest and shoulders. His forearms grew thick with muscle as fur coated them as well. His thick thighs met the same fate, with hair sprouting all the way down to his feet. His beard thickened further and spread higher up his cheeks, leaving him with a dense covering that tangled with Glenn’s own when they kissed. His body had doubled in size, with those workouts giving him a solid muscular frame. Glenn made sure that was still softened by plenty of chub though, stuffing his cub at every meal.

Fall changed to winter, and Jaden was nearing perfection as Glenn’s cub. They were inseparable, spending every day together as Glenn pushed the cub to be the best he could be, perfected for his own enjoyment. Jaden was enamored with his daddy bear, aware of the changes he’d undergone but not worried about his past self. As snow began to fall outside, his new mass and fur coat kept him warm even when outside, since he rarely cared to put on a coat. It was even better for snuggling by the fire with a full fledged bear, one who promised to only make Jaden more and more like himself. Jaden was now a true cub, in love with his daddy bear and looking forward to a life of growing.

#male tf #hairy tf #hairy #beard #hairy chest #hairy pits #hair growth #cub tf #my writing #bear tf

513 notes · View notes

chaeyoei · 2 months

Note

Helooo, I’m back with more Jing yuan food. Imagine a Jing yuan that turned into a cat because some assassin accidentally mixed up the poisons with a transformation potion. So you have to take care of him since well…ur his partner. If I was taking care of cat yuan, I’d tie a red ribbon on him just like his human form. Cat yuan food fur u. Bai <33

Lmao you're keeping my mediocre writing spirit up oh well. Grammatical mistakes obv.

"Honey.. where are you?" You searched through your house. Getting slightly concerned as Jing Yuan was nowhere to be found. He could be in his office due to an emergency but he took a day off today.

"Meow."

That startled you. Did he bring home a cat?

You opened the bedroom door to be greeted by a white cat standing ontop of an unconscious body.

"Jing Yuan!" You rushed forward thinking that the person was Jing Yuan but upon getting closer and closer, your brows furrowed and your steps hatled.

It was a man dressed in black, not to mention he had a weapon. You crouched near it, trying to see the face underneath. There's a chance it could be him.

"Meow!" The cat jumped on you. Occupying your plam by jumping on it. It was so befuddling.

Something told you that this feline was your husband. The suspicion rose when you realise that cats don't have an eye covered by their hair. "Jing Yuan?" You hoped that this cat could understand you and he actually nodded with a meow.

Well whatever that was, you called the Knights and the man caught was an assassin. It took a day but you connected the dots and confirmed that the white feline was indeed your husband.

Cat Jing Yuan.. oh boy. Im going to keep it short because I have to sleep.

After coming to the realisation you had no choice but take care of your now cat husband. But for Jing Yuan..

This was a vacation he never knew he needed.

Getting to lay in your wife's lap all day, getting hugs, kisses and pats and having to not worry about work. Sign him up.

"Meow." The cat purred feeling your fingers glide through his fur.

"You're really enjoying this, huh? The assassin that mixed the chemical is being held in the shackling prison."

Honestly, he loves that stupid assassin now for giving him a free vacation. Maybe, he can ask the dude for one more....

Fu Xuan and Yanqing.

"Lady Y/N, do you know where General Jing Yuan is?" The blonde child asked, in search of his master.

"..."

"He needs to get back to work. Everyone's asking where he is." The Master Diviner grumbled, distressed by the intense questioning she has to answer.

"He... umm." You glanced at the cat who shook his head no. "So, Jing Yuan was poisoned by an assassin in his sleep, he's in no state of working."

"What?!" Both of them shouted in unison.

"General is bed ridden?" Yanqing was concerned.

"..That's not good." Fu Xuan sighed. Her frustration having turned into somewhat sympathy. "I need to keep my omnisa activated every now and then."

"I'll tell the other generals about that situation." She added.

Watching this in your arms, Jing Yuan felt a little guilty. This was becoming his guilty pleasure at this rate.

"Oh Lady Y/N, did you get a new cat?" Yanqing changed the topic.

"Yes."

"..Strange. It almost looks like him." The Lady Diviner was catching on.

Now to the thing you were talking about.

"..Jing Yuan, would you mind a red collar?" You asked the fluffy feline occupying your lap. You had to ask because it would look cute on him but did he want it as well?

"Meow." He agreed after a minute.

You giddily put the collar and ofcourse had to take a picture. Maybe you can collage the photo of human him and cat him and use it as phone wallpaper.

Lingsha. Idk why but I had to do it.

"Hmm.." The lady giggled. "Almost amusing to see the Loufu general be reduced to a mere cat."

"How long do you think the postion lasts, Lady Lingsha?"

"It's been 2 days, you say. The potion's effect lasts for a week so 5 more days remain until the Loufu General becomes himself." The Cauldron Master answered with an amused look.

Fu Xuan.. Again.

"So it was you, General." Fu Xual glared at the cat. Jing Yuan hid behind your figure.

"I apologise for lying, Lady Fu."

She sighed. "I suppose there's nothing to be done. How more until he turns back?"

"4 more days."

The pink haired woman shook her head in defeat.

I know it makes no sense.

People were beggining to question you as well. It was a bit overwhelming at times. But luckily, your cat husband was there to be your plushie.

Things he doesn't like as a cat.

Now being pampered is fine and all but it started to get boring when he had nothing to do but laze around. He also couldn't embrace you or keep you in his arms and lap anymore (obviously). It was.. irritating to say the least.

Yep I'm not happy with this. I'll update this if I can.

#hsr jing yuan #jing yuan #jing yuan x reader #hsr x you #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader

368 notes · View notes

stylespresleyhearted · 4 months

Text

THE MAJOR’S WIFE

warnings: mentions of miscarriage, adultery, nsfw, marital problems, oral (m! receiving), spanking, being turned on even when your brain isn’t in it, bucky in 1x04, bucky married pre-war, slight age gap bc reader can come off slightly immature (i think?) angst, historical inaccuracies, new mediocre writer be nice

summary: John Egan gets to know his wife again

word count: 9.7k

notes: i’m not sure where this came from i wrote it all today and got no part of my research paper done. there’s really no point to it and also irl john egan was actually really close to his mother so i emphasized that here. he wrote to her so much. no disrespect to any of the real people, this is based on the show/show timeline as well.

Lila gets the call on the 2nd of October and her dreams come true.

Not entirely, no. The real dream would be having him home safe and the tragic war being over but she knows how fortunate she is to have the next best thing happen. Her husband’s been granted a few days leave and Colonel Harding believed it would do Major Egan some good to have his sweet, young wife join him during those days overseas. For the good of John’s mental health the Colonel or the President - or whoever was in charge, Lila really had no idea - had agreed to pay for her ticket and their hotel. There was only one thing they asked for in return and although it wasn’t explicitly said, Lila caught their drift: sort your husband out.

Lila knows it would do her no good to sit and wonder how horribly John must be doing in order for them to declare an all expenses paid trip for his spouse. All she does is worry for him anyhow so she forces herself to focus on the one good thing of the entire ordeal - she’s going to see her man.

There’d been letters, although not as many as she liked and she tried not to let it show how it hurt as every other wife received more than one letter at a time. Her John wasn’t the sort, she knew that when she married him. He was the kind of person who needed endless skies and land to maintain his sense of stability. Having him cooped up would do him no good and she partly wondered how much of what he was struggling with was the trauma he witnessed in the air and how much of it was feeling caged on base. At least his plane, good ol’ Mugwump (he wrote about her quite often) offered him the opportunity to head anywhere he wanted.

The only person he wrote consistently and readily to was his mother. It was rare if a week went by and she received no letter. During these instances it was more times than not an issue with the postal service.

Be that as it may, Lila knew who she married and it made her love him no less so she tried not to let it get to her. His mother was a saint. Firm and strong and loving all the same. Lila would have never survived sending John off if his mother wasn’t who and how she was. She held Lila at night when her cries woke her and she let Lila sleep in his old childhood bed. She kept food on their table and ensured everyone got their work done through the worry.

When John first left and Lila was sick to her stomach and vomiting multiple times of the day it was his mother who consoled her through the night when her sheets turned a crimson red and any ideals of having their baby through the war was lost.

Frances Egan was the glue holding them together. All of them, even her son who was an entire ocean way - so no. Lila would not be angry that she was John’s preferred pen-pal.

“You fix him right up,” Mama Egan had said in lieu of goodbye when leaving her at the airport, “you give him the loving he needs as his wife and the smacks he needs from me to get on the straight and narrow before sending him off to continue saving the world. You do it for him, not for any of them war bastards. You hear me?”

All Lila could do was nod. Dropping her bags on the floor and clutching her pseudo mother tightly. She was excited as she was frightened.

They had only gotten two months together before he had been pulled away. She didn’t want to complain, loads of women had gotten less time at all while others had only ever been left with the promise.

But her two months as Mrs. Egan? They’d been a dream. Her man was a romancer. He hadn’t hesitated in introducing her as the newly (and younger) Mrs. Egan, always resulting in an arm slap from his mother, he held open doors and he never stopped courting her; however she thinks the best times were when he was teaching her how to act married.

In their bed, at a home he had spent a year building for them. Using any extra pennies he had to pay off younger boys to help him hurry it along. Giving her the wrap-around porch she had always envisioned.

He showed her how to kiss. How to undress him. He had laid her underneath him, using his large frame to cover her completely, protecting her from the cold as he threw the sheets off them and making her feel tiny compared to him. She had never felt safer.

It had hurt the first time but he had held her through it. Never allowing any inches of space between their bodies; as if telling her they were in it together. She’d always known he was large, everything about him was large in general, but she never thought how much it would hurt to have all of him fit inside her. Lila hadn't wanted to disappoint him so she tried to muffle her tears and whimpers but he had swallowed her cries and gone slow, soft.

“If this is it, it’ll be enough,” he had promised, only about half way inside her and wiping away her tears with his thumbs. As a thank you she had taken that calloused thumb into her mouth and sucked. He allowed her; hiding his face in her neck and pressing wet kisses along there.

And for the first few times that had been it. She couldn’t take all of him and his thrusts couldn’t get too deep so he would only slip inside until her tight hole resisted and pulsed and he’d hump against that spot until reaching his pleasure.

“Do other girls take all of it?” She had asked a couple days later, trying to wrap her head around it.

She was no idiot. John Egan was no virgin.

“Yes.” Lila could always count on him to be honest. At least there was that. Meanwhile she couldn’t even fully pleasure him. She was failing as a wife. “Hey,” he lay facing her and she lay on her back. He tapped her cheek until she turned her face. “You’re my wife. That’s what makes this feel better.”

And she had beamed at his reassurance even though she didn’t feel much better. She knew John would never push her, and he couldn’t stand to see her cry, so if she ever wanted to learn to be a good wife she would have to take it upon herself.

So that’s what she did.

He was always on top and she was always on her back. That’s the first thing she had to change. From her understanding of it, from her talks with friends that always ended in giggles and blushing cheeks and from what she learned from John, it could be done in many different ways.

“I prefer to be in charge,” her school friend, Linda, had admitted to her. “Not like that -” she clarified, cheeks pink, “Just - if I’m gonna take it, I’d rather do it at my pace. Be on top. Some husbands are good like that. They’ll allow it.”

And knowing her husband wasn’t just good, he was great, she knew he would hold no qualms about it. The next time they lay in bed kissing it was easy to turn him over and straddle him. Move her wetness against his belly to let him know there was still more she just needed him to accept it.

Except he thought she was asking him to do it so he flipped her on her back again. And without breaking their kiss, she turned him over again.

It was more like they were wrestling.

Lila pulls away from his mouth, reluctantly, noticing his lips were wet and red and swollen and wondering if hers were much the same. They had been kissing for so long her mouth felt raw.

She loved it.

Straddling him, she reached behind her, feeling him standing straight and hard against her backside in between her cheeks. Sticky.

He gasped, bucking into her fist with a loud, guttural groan. It was so manly she rocked against his stomach again in need.

“Fuck, baby,” he grunted, “what’re you doing?”

“I want to try it like this,” she breathed, leaning over to whisper in his mouth, her tiny hand still wrapped around him and lining her up to her hole. “I want it all.” Lila clarified.

And John allowed it, like she knew he would. Let her take control and go at her pace. Let her swivel her hips on the way down to help with the tightness of being stretched so wide and thick.

Nothing but curses and promises of love leaving his lips. Gasping mine, mine, mine and my perfect fucking wife and I’m gonna fuck you forever.

He felt large inside of her, like if she was being split in two but it felt so good as the tip of him repeatedly hit a spongy part inside that had her coming with no contact to her clit for the first time.

She was beautiful, red splotches appearing on her body from the heat of their love-making, her hair tangled in his fists, her mouth falling open as she threw her head back - all of it was too much. He was flipping her over and pounding into her trying to chase his peak and a second one from her, their headboard banging against the wall in rhythm with his thrusts.

Things changed from then on. Sexually, that is. Becoming aware of how badly she needed to feel like she was pleasing him, John was not above using it against her. Like letting him lick at her.

“Good wives allow their husbands everything,” he would say, lips wide in a smile and eyes bright at the prospect of getting his way but Lila always knew the choice was really hers. He would respect what she wanted.

He was just too damn addicting. She couldn’t stand to tell him no.

His favorite times were when she allowed him to sit her over his face and let him feast. It drowned the outside world for him and he kept at it even after she had reached multiple orgasms and was pulling on his hair and the only thing keeping her up was his forearms locking around her thighs.

Her favorite was when he allowed her to taste him at the same time he was licking her. It was a tie between those times and when he held her down until all of him was in her mouth and she was spluttering, choking, gagging. Knowing she made a filthy vision and he adored it did something to her.

Now she was in London, closer to him than she had been in years, and all their intimacies were within reach. She could almost taste him, feel him petting back her hair and settling a hand at the low of her back. She still remembers the smell of his after shave and sweat, how he’d come into the kitchen asking for some of her homemade lemonade to help with the heat.

Jack Kidd was tasked with picking up Mrs. Egan from the airport and having her arrive at base with him. She remembers meeting him a couple of times before John shipped out early. Originally she was meant to wait for John at their hotel but there had been an issue when planning her flight and she arrived sooner than intended.

“Ma’am,” he greeted, placing a friendly kiss on her cheeks and taking her bags from her. “Bucky’s gonna be happy as hell to see your face.”

The tone in his voice - relief? alleviation? - had some of her happy wife's facade crumbling. How badly was her Johnny hurting that everyone was looking at her at his only chance to remain sane or alive?

Stop it. Maybe everyone’s just aware Johnny misses you. You’re his wife.

“Not as happy as me, I wager,” she returned with a smile. “I’m glad to see you’re doing okay, Jack. Glad to see you still kicking.”

His shrug didn’t soothe her worry but she saw him try to mask it with a smile.

“All we boys can do is pray.”

She placed a hand on his shoulder, gathering his attention. “You boys have got the prayers of our entire country protecting you.”

Jack simply nodded in response.

For the most part the ride to base was quiet. Her bags would be kept in the trunk until her and John were ready to drive out to London in a couple of hours and until then, she’d be his surprise at the officer’s club. Silver Wings, Jack called it. Where all the boys gathered and had drinks and celebrated accomplishments. And where some chose to mourn, too.

Her stomach was turning as she neared the hut, following Jack’s footsteps. There was so much that could go wrong and although this was meant to be a surprise, the U.S Army showing their gratitude towards a brave Major, she suddenly wished she would have called John and told him. She wished he knew so that she wouldn’t have to walk in feeling alone and unwanted.

Not that Lila thought John would turn her away, she simply wanted to have him hold her hand as she walked through the threshold.

“Stick close by,” Jack murmured, being respectful of where he touched her before deciding to lead her by her shoulder. “It gets crowded but I’ll take ya to him.”

As she walked through different groups, she felt the offending eyes of men and women alike. Wondering who she was. With a pang in her heart she realized she had met John’s squadrons before but all these crews were new. The boys she met, most of them at least from what she could tell, hadn’t made it. John never wrote about who passed away (except to inform her of Curt) ; most of their letters were him expressing his love and how he missed her so and asking what she got up to.

Having walked around the roundabout bar in the center of the room, her stomach in knots and fingers tangled in front of her - she caught sight of her husband smack middle in the dance floor. Pressed against a beautiful brunette.

Lila caught sight of him before even Jack did. That’s how connected she was to her husband. Jack whistled from beside her to gain Gale’s attention who was resting against the bar holding his signature ginger ale, also watching John Egan chat up the woman he was swaying with with something like disapproval in his eyes.

His large hands were occupying most of the space of her waist, keeping her body tethered to his as she laughed.

“Lila,” he gasped, eyes wide. He was smart enough to not turn and look at his buddy. To act as if nothing was amiss and she expected nothing less from Gale Cleven, “damn it all to hell. You’re a sight for sore eyes, Mrs. Egan.”

Because he was close to John, he didn’t hesitate in wrapping her up in a tight hug and pressing a kiss to her tinted cheeks. He knew John wouldn’t mind.

When he pulled back she patted his chubby cheek in return, “You still shame the rest of us with your good looks, Gale,” she laughed. “I’ll let Marge know when I see her next.”

Lila also knew she would share with Marge that while Gale was being loyal, standing off to the side her husband was exchanging oxygen with a woman on the dance floor.

His cheeks tinted at the mention of his girl. Buck and Bucky were both aware Lila and Marge wrote to one another and visited each other whenever time made it possible.

“Colonel Harding said Major Egan was in need of something from home,” she said, studying his reaction to see what she could read but Gale had always been aloof, cold. He wasn’t close to her like he was with Marge and John.

Gale thought back to a few moments earlier when John had disrespected their Colonel and all his actions before that too - disrespecting superiors, drinking more consistently, becoming angry - hopelessness in his eyes.

“He’s in need of you Lila,” Gale clarified and it wasn’t lost on either one of them that he they were referring to was currently on the floor wooing another woman.

“Holy shit! It’s Mrs. Egan!” Hambone animatedly announced and suddenly it felt like the eyes of everyone in there were on her. Her cheeks tinted pink, never having been one for the spotlight like her husband.

She was greeted with welcoming cheers and hugs.

John, for his part, disentangled from the woman he was holding at the mention of his missus. He was sober enough to appear sheepish and guilty, but in the next second it was gone as he stalked towards her. Determined. Quick. His smile growing the more he neared like he was becoming more aware she was really there and it wasn’t a fucked up scenario in his head.

“God, Lila,” she managed to hear him say before she was elevated in the air, his arms tight around her waist and lifting her high so they were at face level and he could kiss her. Channeling his love and exuberance and aggression into kissing his wife. “It’s you, it’s you, it’s really you,” he was saying in between smooches, “I missed you. So fucking much, doll.”

Basking in his love she didn’t feel the need to mention the woman that was so kindly keeping him preoccupied before she entered.

She couldn’t help the first tear from falling or the rest from following. It was like the tightness in her chest unlocked as she finally got to hold him and feel his heat surround her. He still smelled of after shave and the same hair gel that was kept in their bathroom at home but he tasted strongly of whiskey and cigarettes and strawberry lipstick.

John tucked his face into her neck, setting her down and bending to her level. Sniffling in there as he continued to hold her.

“None of that,” she did her best to stop her voice from wobbling or breaking, “we’re together. That’s all that matters.” She drew his face out from where he had hidden to pepper him with a few more kisses.

None of it was enough.

The rest of the guys were kind enough to return to the dance floor and act like they couldn’t see them.

“Who? What - why? How?” He was obviously having trouble forming coherent thoughts in between the kisses he continued stealing from her.

She was crying and laughing and trying to return all his touches. It was a terribly difficult ordeal but she had never been happier.

“Colonel Harding called and said you had a weekend leave. He said he talked to some of the higher ups but they couldn’t allow you a leave home so this was the next best thing,” she explained, cupping his cheek as she rubbed her thumb over his cheekbone. He had minor scars that weren’t there before.

She wanted to kiss every single one of them.

He was still bent towards her height, taking her in as she was taking him in.

She forgot how blue his eyes were.

He was whole. Complete. Hers.

“You’re here for the entire weekend?” He asked to confirm and she nodded, laughing when he lifted her again with a loud whoop to celebrate. That got a few of the guys to join in although they had no idea what their Major was celebrating.

“I need you,” his voice suddenly dropped, setting her down as he turned to the door. “Let’s go.” He was buckling up her coat to make sure she was protected from the freezing London air. She was lucky he was too far gone to scold her for arriving with it unbuckled in the first place - she could get sick.

“John, John - relax, my sweet man,” she laughed, cupping his cheek to get his attention. “We can stay for a while. We don’t have to go yet.”

It’s why she was at the officer’s club in the first place. She had arrived early.

John turned stiff in her hold, straightening to his full height as he suddenly loomed over her. “I’ve got you in my arms for the first time and you want to stay here?” His voice was tight. His face stern.

“Yes - no, I -” she was unsure of where she went wrong or how to fix it. She clasped his hands in hers but he didn’t allow her to thread their fingers together so it was just her holding on. “I just meant we’ve got time, John.”

The way he was looking at her made her want to cry. She felt her lower lip quivering.

She felt ashamed, whispering, trying to get him to keep his cool.

“Time? Time?” He laughed loudly. She was mildly aware of Gale breaking away from a group of guys to near them, worried but she was mostly focused on John. The tense lines on his face even as he laughed and the quirked eyebrow even though she found no amusement in their situation. “You think I’ve got time? You have no idea what it’s like up there.”

She shook her head but didn’t try to verbally explain herself. She wasn’t sure she could manage a few words before breaking into tears.

“Come on, Bucky,” that was Gale stepping in to save the day. Perhaps the only person who could get John to listen. “When have you ever left before dancing with your girl? You gotta show these rookies how it’s properly done right?”

With Gale slapping a hand to John’s shoulders, he seemed to snap out of it. Releasing a deep breath and seemingly all the tightness in body with it.

He leaned down again, pressing his forehead against hers. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, clasping a hand around her neck so she wouldn’t pull her head back. As their eyes locked she felt a tear fall again and this one wasn’t happy. “I’m so fucking sorry, baby. It’s this place. It’s fucking with my head.”

And she chose to believe him, nodding her head in understanding and trying not to think about how she wasn’t his preferred person to write letters to or the one who could clear his head.

Maybe the Colonel should have allowed a weekend pass for Gale and John.

Lila swallowed the thought, allowing John to pull her to the dance floor as he lost all anger and aggression and became charming and loving all over again.

“Everyone, this is my wife!” He bellowed and everyone cheered in response. “She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and -” he hiccuped and she realized he was drunker than she thought, “and I bet we can out dance any couples here tonight!”

So for the next hour she found herself being twirled around the dance floor by her husband. She almost forgot their prior negative interaction; his love and energy was so infectious. For the slow songs he would hold her close and she would rest her head against his chest, letting it lull her to a relaxing state. He was alive and she was with him. That had to be enough. For the more upbeat songs, he was challenging any couple beside them. Asking those sitting who were better dancers? Who could perform certain dance moves better?

And all throughout, he was like he used to be back home. Loud and happy and the center of attention, keeping everyone entertained. He kept announcing to his boys that his beautiful wife was there and then he’d place a wet kiss on her mouth that had their cheeks (and hers) turning red but all he would do is smile and continue on.

She was finally able to disentangle herself from him when Crosby pulled him in for a conversation. Lila wonders if her state of disheveled hair and panting breaths made him want to aid her in allowing her to sit and grab a refresher.

Once she accepts Crosby’s hug and cheek kiss, she excuses herself to go grab a drink. John only pulls her back once to steal a kiss before she gets too far.

Her lips might be bruised by the time they leave if he kept it up.

She orders a cup of ice water from the man tending the bar, looking back out at her husband as she waits. He’d always been tall and strong, but she notices the change in his posture. The bulges in his arms as he twirled her around and lifted her in the air. His eyes were only bright when he forced it. They had lost their shine and she wishes she brought the picture from back home. Where he looks young and full of life and joyful. Even when he smiles he seems hollow; hopeless.

She’s there but he doesn’t really care because in his head he’s already thinking of when she leaves again.

She wasn’t used to that. Her John only lived in the moment.

“He keepin’ you busy?”

Gale settles up behind her and pushes the glass water towards her. She didn’t even notice when it was put down.

“Dizzy, more like,” she jokes and gets him to crack a smile. She thinks to when she walked in and seen Gale, how he’d been watching the scene unfold but with a disapproving look in his eyes. How he didn’t try to hide the scene from her or excuse it. He let it be. And she knows John has never shied away from attention. He’s always been handsome and charming and girls always swarmed but Lila wasn’t aware she had to be around to keep him loyal. She thought he just was. And she knows it’s not too long before they leave now so she decides to be direct with him. “So, does that happen often?”

She sees Gale’s expression split for a second, like he debates playing dumb before deciding against it and she respects him even more for it.

“I think you should talk to John about it.” He decides on.

“Is it something that needs to be mentioned?” She doesn’t like playing this game with him but she knows at the first words of cheating and adultery Gale is going to excuse himself and her chance will be lost.

She can’t be simple and ask: Does my husband cheat on me?

“Another ginger ale, Marty,” Gale raises two fingers to grab the man’s attention and mutters a thanks as his drink is immediately refilled. He turns his attention back to Lila. “He still loves you, Lila. It’s just - hard. Being out here.”

“You seem to be coping fine.”

She feels bitter. Crazy. There’s a sob she has to choke back.

Lila’s too embarrassed to meet Gale’s gaze. Ashamed that everyone knows what’s been going on and she was the ditzy woman being twirled on the dance floor.

“I think I was used to loneliness. He isn’t.”

And he says nothing else as he leaves her behind heading back to his boys. It’s just Lila and her shattering heart and her husband calling to beckon her back to the dance floor.

Luckily they didn’t stay much longer. She walked over to Bucky but he wasn’t able to pull her back out for a dance - it’s my song, Lila! - because Jack Kidd was approaching, letting them know it was time to leave them at the train station.

Lila waited in the car while Bucky ran into his quarters to pack his bag. He didn’t have many things to take, he would be stuck wearing his uniform anyway. Gale walks him back out to the car and despite the earlier conversation Lila exits the safety of the interior to say her goodbyes.

“Take care of yourself, Major,” she squeezes him, “I need you to stick around after this weekend to look after my man.”

“It’s a hard job but I try,” he replies, both of them ignoring Bucky’s protests.

Besides that, Bucky’s quiet on the ride to the train station. He carries her bag on board but he’s quiet for the duration of the train ride. Lila doesn’t disturb him; he might be tired or hungover or both.

And if she’s honest she’s scared of him snapping at her like the night before.

Instead she takes the time to take him in. He’s handsome in his suit. Tall and big and strong, his sharp jaw and powerful mouth, his eyes blue like a sunny day and his curls coming undone from the gel after all the dancing he did.

Lila doesn’t allow her mind to wander down this path too often but suddenly she can’t help it. Would their baby have looked like him or like her? She wishes more than anything they would have had his ears. She wishes they would have had his heart and his strength - but her loyalty. Her faith in them.

It’s crazy when she stops to think she was nineteen when she married him and now she’s twenty-one. She’s loved him for more than she’s been allowed to have him. She has changed without him like he has without her and it’s frightening to think neither of them could be accepting of those changes. Whatever they may be.

Lila shuts those thoughts out, closing the distance between them to sit on his lap. Passerby’s and his horrible mood and what scares her could be damned to hell - all she wants is her man.

John doesn’t deny her; she admits she was a little scared he would.

“I love you,” she tells him, catching his eyes.

“I know.”

He doesn’t return the words as they continue staring at one another but she refuses to let it get her down. This is her husband. She has the rest of her life to get to know him; new or old habits, she doesn’t care.

So instead, Lila plasters a smile onto her face. “What’re you gonna show me first in London, Major?”

“Well I really wanna show you our hotel room,” he plays along, allowing her to trace the edges of his mustache. She lets out a knowing chortle. “And I really want to show you -” he cuts himself off to look around, making sure no one was near them as he leans in to whisper, “- my cock, Mrs. Egan.”

She turns a bright red, trying to sputter out a proper response for that but all she can do is indignantly scold him. “John Clarence! If your mom were here -” and they both break out in loud laughter at the many possibilities of what his mother would exactly do to him if she heard his wicked mouth.

“Wanna grab some grub first?” He asks instead, knowing she hadn’t eaten at the officers club and before then she had been stuck on a plane. “I know a few places.”

Lila nods happily, pressing a kiss to his mouth. His lips are warm and as plump as she remembers them. His mustache tickles her.

“Let me feed you first, woman!” He groans, trying to be a gentleman. “When’s the last time you ate?”

She puckers her lips to think about it and that’s the only answer he needs: food is definitely first.

When they arrive at the hotel John enters to check them in but he slips a few bills into the bell boy’s hand with strict instructions to leave the bags in their room before pulling her back out to the London streets.

Lila felt underdressed surrounded by women in diamonds and fancy hats, and it didn’t help that John was beside her in his uniform looking dapper and catching the eye of many. They were stopped multiple times on the way to the diner; men wanting to shake his hand and show their gratitude while the women introduced themselves, uncaring of Lila under his right arm.

As long as he wasn’t ignoring or dismissing her she realized she didn’t really care. It wasn’t much different back home; everyone knew and loved John Egan.

The diner he chose was small and cozy and his legs were too long to fit under their table so his boot and his knee kept bumping into her own and she adored it. She wanted to feel close to him and since sitting on his lap currently wasn’t an option she figured this would have to do.

He tells her many stories but none of them are sad or tragic. He only shares the happy ones. He talks about how he convinced the Colonel to allow Buck, Curt, and himself a London weekend pass one time and they had shoved Gale into a haberdashery where he tried on a multitude of top hats worth more money any of them would ever see combined. But because they were soldiers and majors at that, the owner allowed it. There’s a museum nearby he talks about wanting to take her too, it showcases art from as early as the 1400s and he says he’s gotten lost in there plenty of times and it was lovely.

All the while, she listens without hearing him. Choosing to take him in and letting her mind wander to how it would be if things were different. It pains her to think how much older he looks since she last saw him. Looking more like it was ten years instead of the measly two. John’s always been one to smile freely but the wrinkles by his mouth, eyes, and forehead aren’t from smiling or laughing too much.

Lila knows they’re from worrying and stressing and being scared and she hates that she can’t understand him or be there for him. No matter how hard he tries.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes when a sob breaks free. She curls in over the table and John’s reaching over to rub her shoulders. She grabs a hold of her hand in his. “I just missed you so much.” She presses a kiss to his knuckles. “I don’t think I know how to not miss you.”

John doesn’t say anything but he motions a server over to settle the bill and once that’s done, he’s taking her hand and pulling her out the chair.

“You got enough food in you?”

All she can do is nod.

Her body feels electric on the short walk back to the hotel. He doesn’t do more than hold her hand and she thinks that is what has her nerves jittery, his palm in her hand sets her alight. She can feel his rough skin and the calluses on his fingers and the fingertips he runs over her skin and she bites back a moan.

Moaning in the middle of a bustling London street? She’d be thrown into an asylum she’s sure.

Beside her he’s quiet but his steps are quick. She has to lightly jog to keep up with long strides. He pulls on her hand to help her keep pace. It makes her think he’s as impatient for it as she is so she was surprised when upon closing the hotel room behind him he stays by the door. Not nearing or touching or kissing.

Just - nothing.

Her throat becomes tight again as she remembers the girl from the night before and her conversation with Gale. Is that the reason why?

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he says before she can spiral any further. Approaching her and bringing their lips together in a searing kiss, wasting no time in sliding his tongue alongside hers.

“I love you,” she responds and once again he doesn’t say it back. She figured he wouldn’t but she wanted to try. He takes her mouth in his again.

She gets irrationally angry, suddenly feeling the need to claim him so she bites at his bottom lip. He pulls back to press a finger to his lip, wiping the blood there.

Lila pulls on his belt, dropping to her knees right there in the middle of the room.

Mine. He’s mine.

“Make me your wife again,” she’s not sure but it sounds like she’s begging as she manages to unbuckle his belt and pull them around his strong thighs.

“God,” he breathed, “fuck. Look at you.”

Swollen lips parted for him to put to use. John wrapped his fist around her long hair to maintain a good grip, allowing the tip of his cock to hit the back of her throat. There was no resistance, no gag, her body remembering how it was taught to take all of him even though time had passed. John loved that fucking mouth and he found himself angry as thoughts entered his mind - if anyone had fucked her mouth while he’d been away - and he jerks his hips more forcefully. Rough.

This time Lila does gag. Her hand goes to push against his hip but he doesn’t allow her to pull away.

“Did anyone else do this?”

She splutters, eyes on him and confused with a mouthful of cock, unable to talk.

“Did you suck someone else’s cock? This is mine, Lila. Mine.”

He holds her down for a couple of more seconds before allowing her reprieve. She sputters and coughs, looking at him the entire time.

His dick is still hard and long, standing to attention, and he’s not sure whether he should apologize before she’s taking his bobbing dick back into her mouth. To the back of her throat and gulping and fondling his balls. Her nose kissing the coarse hairs on his belly trail and although it feels fucking amazing - he can feel the anger too. Her anger.

How dare he accuse her.

When she pulls off there’s a strand of saliva connecting his prick to her tongue. She has half a mind to go back for more but he’s pulling her back by her hair.

“I’m so lucky to have a wife who’s cock hungry,” he groans, pulling her to her feet by her hair and connecting their mouths in a rough kiss. Their teeths crash and tongues wrestly and he feels fucking crazy that she tastes like him. Simultaneously ripping each other’s clothes off.

Lila didn’t have any warning. One second she was kissing him and ripping open his shirt and the next she was bent over the bed with her ass in the air. John ran a finger over the wet patch on her underwear. The bite on her cheek was also unexpected and she clawed at the sheets, sure she could come from the feeling alone.

“This is mine, Lila,” he leaned in close, burying his face in her underwear. “Mine.”

All she could do was whimper and agree.

John smacked her ass so hard it jiggled. Lila yelled and after the pain ceded, time seemed to stop. Nothing but their rough breathing filling the room. John had never done that before.

She wasn’t sobbing but there were tears escaping. She was sure he didn’t know. He was waiting for a reaction.

Lila wasn’t sure where this side of her husband came from. Had he held back those two months? Did he learn it in Europe? Was that why there was another woman - because she couldn’t satisfy him?

She can’t lose him.

“Please,” she begs, hiding tears in the duvet, “do it again.”

Lies. It was all lies but John believes her and he strikes again. She yelps, fisiting the sheets. He believes it’s in pleasure.

Ten slaps. That’s how many she endures before he begins shushing and petting her again. He runs his fingers through her folds and although she didn’t enjoy the punishment mentally - she did nothing wrong, he was the liar - her body certainly did. She’s sopping wet, she’s gonna have to throw out her underwear because they’re destroyed.

“Did you enjoy that?” He grabs a fistful of her hair to sit her up, her back against his sweaty, matter chest. “You like being spanked, baby?”

“Yes.” It’s only half of a lie.

“Now - now, I’m going to fuck you. Nice and hard, just how you like it,” she wants to scream at him. She wants to hit him. When did she ever like it hard? When was hard ever nice? Who was he thinking about because it wasn’t her.

But at the same time she rocks back against him to feel his cock hard between her cheeks. She can’t say she doesn’t want it. Him. This.

He pushes her back down at her teasing, using his now free hands to spread her cheeks and show her tight asshole. Untouched and pure. He presses the tip of his cock against it but he doesn’t push. He doesn’t move.

She jerks at the pressure. Drools on the mattress as she tries to bite down to temper her screams.

Do it.

No, don’t.

“One day,” he promises, pressing deeper so her hole opens but not deep enough to push. “But today, today I want this.” And without any prepping like she’s used to, without any more warning, he’s sliding down and pushing into her. Hard. Deep.

She screams, can’t help it, claws at the mattress in an attempt to crawl away.

It hurt but it felt so good.

Who was she?

“You think you can go be with other men? Let them use the holes I trained? The ones that belong to me?” He pumps into her deep. Once, twice. She’s so wet the noises filling the room are pornographic, her yelling and his panting and her sopping wet vagina smacking against his thighs and taking his cock so well. “You like it like this, Lila? Like when I fucking own you?”

“Yes, yes,” she swears and this time she isn’t lying. It’s all she can manage; she thinks she’s gone cock dumb. There are no words, no feelings, just the feeling of him filling her.

She clenches tight when he slides out. She wants him inside her forever.

He releases his hold of her hair, stepping away. He’s tired of muffling her moans and words. He’s tired of not being able to see her beautiful face.

John’s favorite face in the entire world.

“Turn around,” he commands.

Lila kneels on wobbly legs as she turns over, having little to no energy and bouncing as her body lands with no grace on the mattress. John grabs one of her jiggling breasts in his large hand, squeezing tightly.

“I fucking missed these.” He takes one in his mouth, biting down on her nipple hard. She shrieks but holds his head to pull him closer.

Her thighs are forced open by his hand and then he’s taking hold of himself and thrusting in deep again. Releasing her breasts from his mouth in order to look at her mouth. Lila’s face when he’s fucking her is as close to heaven as he thinks he’ll ever get. She’s incoherent but she’s begging for more - that much he can make out. She manages to gather the strength to grab hold of him and pull him down, clawing at his back.

He hisses at the pain and bites on her collarbone to reciprocate it.

When she grabs the nape of his neck, the cool touch of her wedding ring against his skin, it gives him pause. This was his wife. His wife.

John has been gone so long he thinks he forgot he was married.

“I love you,” he finally says it, pressing his forehead against hers as he slows down. He sniffles then, leaning down to press a wet open-mouthed kiss against hers and swallow her moans. John can’t believe he forgot he had this; can’t believe he forgot for a minute how lucky he was. She’s gorgeous (and not just externally) and he’s quite sure he somehow managed to dream her up. “I love you,” he swears again.

This time she’s the one who doesn’t say it.

She clutches at neck and pulls him down to take a boob in his mouth. Looking him in the eye hurts too damn much. Why did he have to do this now? She was lost in the pain; she had been taking her punishment.

Lila squeezed her eyes shut, moaning loudly as she thrashed around the bed. Her orgasm taking over her body. She wrapped both legs tighter around John, squeezing and pulsing around him and dragging him to the edge with her.

“Fuck, fuck,” he roared, “so damn tight. Yes, Lila. My perfect wife.”

For a couple of seconds, they lay in the aftermath. Lila could feel the heat of John’s breath against her neck. She counted how many breaths they shared in between one another as they recuperated.

Forty-seven that’s how many breaths they shared as they stayed connected.

Forty-eight that’s when John managed to lift his head and place a peck against her mouth. One she didn’t return.

Forty-nine that’s when John pulled back in concern. Lila was so still.

Fifty. That’s the breath she used to say, “you cheated on me,” looking him right in the eyes as she broke out in uncontrollable sobs.

She cried and cried underneath him. Unable to move because her legs felt like jello and they held no power. Unable to push him off because she didn’t want to let him go. Unable to speak because she was suffocating in her heartbreak.

John watched her until he couldn’t, until he was afraid she was going to choke on her own tears and then he was sitting her up, trying to ignore the way she fought against his touch.

I’m sorry, I’m here, he kept saying.

I hate you, she thought but didn’t say.

Until finally, “don’t touch me!” She yelled when he got too close and made to wrap her up in a hug. “Get away from me, John. Stay away.” She crawled to the edge of the bed and curled herself into a tiny ball. Aware she was fully naked and he was still leaking out of her but she couldn’t find it in herself to do anything except cry.

She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t open her lungs and get any air in. She slapped at the headboard, aware that she was having a panic attack as suddenly everything hit her all at once. It was entirely consuming and she couldn’t do anything to fight against it except cry. All the feelings rushed her at once.

This was going to be it. The weekend of two lovers reunited was the weekend from hell and this was going to be it. She was going to return home in a day and he would stay in Europe and continue to fight the war and seek out other girls and when he returned she wouldn’t be his wife anymore.

Lila would be scornful and full of resentment and miserable and he would leave her. This last time was going to be all she had and she hated him for ruining it.

Why couldn’t he hide his affairs better?

Why did she have to surprise him?

She was perfectly happy not knowing. She was worried and stressed to hell and crying every night missing him but, oh God, all that was better than this.

Lila isn’t sure how long it’s been since she last took a breath but she feels herself fading. She’s shivering and naked in their bed and she can only slightly take in that John’s wrapping her up in the duvet and curling himself around her to warm her up. She’s trying to tell him she can’t breathe, she’s suffocating, at the same time he’s blowing air in her face.

She’s fading when she feels it. A sting on the left side of her face. Hard and sharp and enough to have her gasping for a deep breath.

“Baby, please, wake up,” he’s crying over her, his head on her chest, “wake up. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Her chest aches. She coughs.

He whips his head up so fast she almost laughs. Almost.

“Lila,” he holds her against his chest, rocking them back and forth on the bed as she takes in her surroundings. She isn’t sure how long she was out or how long she was panicking for. Had the sun been setting while she lost her shit? It was dark outside now. “Don’t leave me, you can’t leave me. Please.”

She taps at his arms to get him to release. She doesn’t think she can talk.

John allows her the space but he doesn’t remove himself from the bed. He stays kneeling, watching her. His hands keep twitching like he wants to reach out and touch her but he’s trying to respect her wishes of not being touched.

She doesn’t lay back down, she stays resting against the headboard. Breathing hurts. She’s scared of suffocating once more. Her left cheek begins burning and she wishes she had the strength to go look in the mirror. Did he mark her? She hopes he did.

Lila’s glad he made it hurt.

“You need to go,” she finally manages to say, ignoring the way he’s already shaking his head in defiance. “Leave me here, John. I want you to go. Get another room.” Find another woman. “I leave in a day.” She wishes she never came to stupid London. She wishes she could forget this entire trip.

“Lila it’s the war,” he starts, shaking in his own tears. “It’s all the shit I see, baby. None of it was because of you okay? None. You don’t fucking know what it’s like up there for us but I stay alive in hopes of coming home to you.” He promises.

She shakes her head, fighting back any more tears. How the hell could she still have any tears left?

“But Gale didn’t cheat,” it bursts out of her before she can stop it and she knows it’s the wrong thing to say entirely.

John stops his apologies, clearing his throat as he gets up and begins dressing into his suit. She doesn’t stop him. She doesn’t take back any of what she said. She gets tired of sitting so she lays on her side, staring out the window and noticing London doesn’t have many stars. Is that why it’s so horrible here? Because there were no stars to wish upon.

She could hear his boots stomping on the ground as he reached the door. “Maybe you should have married Gale fucking Cleven then.” And the door slams shut behind him.

She wonders if he’s angry enough to find a girl and sleep with her. Her eyes blur. The time on the clock is six p.m and London’s already dark. She realizes she hasn’t slept since her plane ride. About 19 hours awake - her and John.

Lila allows her eyes to close, hoping when she wakes everything will be better.

Shadows over her eyelids wake her up. Lila finds she hasn’t moved. She’s in the same position facing the window. Facing London, only now bombs are dropping over it. The prettiest colors burst forward in the window but she knows it's truly only tragedy and loss. Murder.

She recognizes John sitting in the arm chair and she wonders when he got back. He isn’t facing her, he’s watching bomb after bomb drop and land no more than mere miles away from them. He’s holding a whiskey on ice, twirling the ice so it hits against the glass.

Lila wonders then if it was the shadows or the noise that woke her up.

“I must have punched in my card a long time ago,” his voice is strong in the dead of the night, seemingly even louder than when he’s singing in the pub. “It must be the reason for all of this. Karma.” He scoffs.

I deserve this, is what he’s trying to say.

Lila feels her stomach twist and spin and there’s bile sitting in her throat. She closes her eyes to stop herself from imagining John in a plane, dropping a bomb that lands on children. She closes her eyes so she doesn’t have to see the hurt sitting on his shoulders.

She remembers how angry she was when he first signed up. Before they were married. They had been dating for over a month, barely, and she already scribbled ‘Mrs. Egan’ over her notebooks. She’d heard it from his younger sister, Eileen, and she felt her world stop. She hadn’t hesitated to run to the stables he worked at and confront him in front of all the men.

“You’re leaving me,” she had accused him. “You’re gonna leave! I’ll never forgive you, John Egan.”

And in front of everyone he’d knelt down and produced a ring, the one his father had given his mother and said, “Marry me.” He didn’t ask because they both knew it wasn’t a question.

She was already his.

And he was hers.

Lila had forgiven him and promised to love, honor, and obey for the rest of her life.

She doesn’t have the strength to stand so even though her throat burns she speaks. “Lay with me,” she croaks. Her voice is raspy and broken and even clearing it aches.

John shakes his head. “You don’t want me to.”

“Lay with me,” she repeats, firm. “I just want to fall asleep with you.”

He looks at her like he's scared to believe. Trying to figure out whether she’s simply being cruel and going to kick him out in her next breath. Or more likely, he’s scared she’ll lose her shit being near him again.

John, hopeful and never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, sets his drink down and nears the bed. Lila keeps her eyes locked on his and he does the same. Their moves and tension resemble a game of chicken, one of them afraid any sudden change can have the other running off.

“Take off your uniform,” she says when he pushes back the covers while still fully dressed. He jerks his head in confusion and she bites her lip to contain a laugh at his dirty mind. Sex is the last thing on her mind. “I want to feel you, that’s all.”

John does as she asks, setting his cap down and shredding every layer before he’s naked and gorgeous and sliding in beside her. She doesn’t allow herself to think about what it means when she immediately slides closer.

Lila’s the one to wrap her arms around him.

Lila’s the one to intertwine their legs.

John follows her lead, lifting an arm so she can raise her head and use it as a pillow. She scoots her face closer and she nuzzles into her armpit, smelling his deodorant and feeling his hairs poke at her nose. She moves further along, escaping the cocoon of his armpit to press her cheek against his chest. She clutches his dog tags in her palm, tight, so he can’t get up in the middle of the night.

“Can we fall asleep together?” She asks, but when she looks up John’s already there.

The next time Lila wakes up her palm aches. She releases what she’s gripping, remembering how she clung to John’s dog tags when he slid into bed beside her. She lifts her head and finds John already looking at her.

He’s got the saddest eyes she’s ever seen and she hates that she’s partly why.

“We should talk,” her voice is low and cracks from not being used. John nods his head but makes no move to begin.

Lila lays her head back on his chest, lightly picking at his matted, curly chest hair. She presses her lips to a freckle near his nipple and his intake of breath lets her know he felt it,

“I’m not the one you write the most letters too,” she starts, finding it easier to not have to look him in the eye. “You write the most to your mom. And I’m not the one who can calm you down when your anger gets the best of you,” she’s so tired of crying, “that’s Gale. “And I can’t even be here for you at the end of a mission to console you or kiss you or help you forget,” she chokes on a sob. “That’s whoever else.”

I couldn’t even keep our baby healthy, she leaves out.

“What’s your point with all this, Lila?”

Lila lifts her head from his chest, “My point is I’m a horrible wife. I - I don’t know if it was too soon or just not thought out but this - I- ” she can’t get the rest of the words out.

“Don’t say that,” John sits up against the headboard, forcing her up as well. He grabs both her wrists in one of his hands to pull her closer and grab her attention. “Don’t fucking tell me that, Lila.”

“I don’t make you happy,” she shakes her head.

“You do. Everything I do, everything I’m doing - it’s for you Lila.”

“I don’t want to marry Gale. Or someone like him. I love you. Only you. But I’m scared that I don’t make you happy. You deserve better.”

“Oh you dumbass,” John coos, suddenly finding the entire situation amusing. He pulls her in for a hug. “You’re my entire fucking heart, Lila Egan. You don’t think you make me happy? You’re the only thing in my life, in my head, that makes me happy.”

She pulls away to hold his face. “If you’re gonna leave me John you need to tell me now. I don’t care about the girls if all they are is to pass the time. And I don’t care that you write to your mom more than me and I don’t care that Gale is the one you listen to but I just need to be the one you love the most. I need to know I’m making you happy.”

His heart aches at the fact that he made her feel she was ever anything less than the most important person in his life. “Lila,” he presses a kiss to her lips, “Rose,” another kiss, “Egan,” another. “Are my only reason for staying alive.”

#mota fic #mota fanfic #john egan x oc #john egan x reader #bucky x oc #bucky egan x reader #bucky egan fanfiction #bucky egan fanfic #john egan fanfic #john egan fanfiction #*made by me

517 notes · View notes

user211201 · 4 months

Text

Chronivac Coworkers

--- Originally posted on 2022-09-19 by davidrodge ---

You sit down at your desk and rub your eyes. Another day of paper pushing and number crunching to get through. It wasn’t like you had done anything particularly interesting the previous night. You had stayed up a little later playing some mediocre matches of online gaming - but when I guess when you get to be around 40, your body constantly feels like it’s been dragged behind a car down the high way. Not that you didn’t take care of yourself, in fact you’d say you looked pretty good for your age…

You stretch in your seat, and reach for your coffee as your computer powers on. The few windows illuminating the office show the first few morning beams of scorching July sunlight. Behind you, the door opens and your Coworker David strides in.

“Morning Adam!” He says in a strangely cheerful voice. You put your coffee down from your lips and give him a stare. Normally David was about 20 minutes later than he already was, and usually he walked into the office with the same enthusiasm you’d see in a man walking towards a guillotine.

“Morning Davo,” you say, typing in your far too long corporate password. “You seem less Zombie-like today, what are you so excited about?”

David Smiled as he sat down in his chair opposite from yours. You were techniqually Davids senior Manager, but the two of you had developed a decent friendship between Friday drinking and the occasional tennis match.

“Oh Nothing Adam, I just got to the top of the waitlist for this super cool Software, and I was finally able to download it!”

You nodded, half listening as you began logging into all your engineering system.

“Very Interesting, what’s the program called? Is it like a Gaming platform?” David opened up his laptop and started to type furiously.

“No it’s not a game at all, It’s an app called the Chronivac. It’s supposed to be a reality altering software. I had a friend in the UK that sent me the information for it, He said that it completely changed his life.”

You paused from your coffee long enough to lean over and roll your eyes at him.

“I hope you didn’t have to pay any money for it.” You moaned, “This Job doesn’t pay you enough for you to be wasting your time on Overseas Scams.”

David was absolutely transfixed on his laptop. A wide, slightly crazed looking grin spreading over his face.

“It actually ended up costing me thousands of dollars,” he said, now in a far quieter voice, “but it was completely worth it.”

“THousands Of DoLLARS!” You exploded, immediately turning the heads of the fellow desk jockeys nearby,

“SHut UP man,” David hissed, half closing his laptop defensively. You simmered as the both of you waited for the rest of your colleagues to return back to their work. David narrowed his Eyes at you, smile creeping back onto his face.

“It wasn’t a waste of money and I can prove it too you. Just let me find your profile really quick.”

“Wait, this thing has a profile for me on it?” You said, now even more concerned then before. “David, This seems like some really dangerous software And I definitely thing that you shou-“

Davids Computer cut you off with a cheerful beep, and immediately you felt a strange sensation course through your body.

“What the hell!” You shout as you start the world around you starts to grow. You feel a strange tightening sensation in your body, as you glance downward. Your clothing seemed to liquify, shifting from a smart suit and dress shirt into a casual tee. In shock you glance at the bay window and catch a reflection of yourself. There you were…. Or rather, there you were 20 years ago! You lift your hands up too your face and feel your skin. Wrinkle free, young, and real!

“ there’s no way this is real,” you say in a whisper. This has to be a dream you think, as you continue to explore your now unfamiliar body.

David leaned over the edge of his desk beaming,

“ See I told you man! This program is incredible!” He looked you over, seeming to be proud of his work. “Dang it’s crazy what taking 20 years off a man can do!”

You take a brief pause from reveling at your new found youth.

“ this is incredible David! How is this even possible?!”

“It’s the chronivac man! Like I said it’s freaking amazing and can change anything!” The wild grin still fresh on his face.

You stand up, coursing with a newfound energy.

“WE HAVE TO TELL EVERYONE ABOUT THIS!” You say ecstatically. The grin drops from David’s face.

“What?”

You begin to jog away from the desks, heading straight for the break room where you knew, most of your coworkers would still be gathered.

“We can change anything with this! This is going to be the coolest thing any of these morons have ever heard about!”

“Wait! No stop! Aww shit-“ you hear David shout as you continued running. You barely processed his voice or cared. You felt so alive! The excitement in your chest was all you could feel or even think of right now. You slid around the corner, breaking into a sprint down the hallway. You could hardly wait to introduce your new younger self to your coworkers and tell them about this amazing new device.

“GUYS, YOU WOULDNT BELIEVE WHAT JUST HAPPENED TO-“

Suddenly your voice catches In your throat, as your mouth dries out In an instant. You keep running, starting to trip over yourself on the concrete floor.

“ what the” you gasp through a dry mouth. Your tongue feels like a pillow in your mouth as you tumble to the floor. You are vaguely aware of the sight of your hands, which appear to be changing color and texture. Your vision fades with the sight of your fingers turning bright blue and seeming to collapse in on themselves.

You can’t seem to find your voice, or be able to move as you feel yourself shrinking. You feel an indescribable softening sensation on all sides as you slide to a stop. Suddenly, it’s over as quickly as it started, and there you lay on the floor. Your brain slows down, filled only with the most basic thoughts now.

“ what….. happened…” you think to yourself with great effort. Your aware of footsteps coming towards you from your position on the floor.

“ Sorry about that man, I just couldn’t have you sharing my new toy with the rest of the world. It’s kind of like a private club, ya know?

….David? You think through fuzzy thoughts.

“ I’m still learning how to use the program haha, but you did turn out to be a nice pair of underwear Adam.”

You feel your now small form being lifted from the floor, then shoved into a pocket. David’s pocket.

“Don’t worry man, we’ll get you sorted out. I think you’ll make a really good practice for me before I start changing myself.”

You couldn’t respond at all, but felt almost at home In the musky warm pocket you were haphazardly shoved into.

….so … nice… you find yourself thinking. You try to shake the fuzz out of your primitive mind. Trying to remember anything besides the new world you found yourself in. You faintly hear David through his clothing.

“ alright, I think the first thing we should do is get you home so we can have some fun.” You feel yourself being lifted from his pocket and placed back on the ground. You felt a longing to be back in the warm musky dark.

“this time however, I think we’ll turn your awareness off.”

David smiled punching his new specifications into the chronivac program. Adam wouldn’t remember any of what just happened, and also be open to his suggestions. The underwear on the pavement started to expand, shifting and changing until Adam once again stood in front of him with a slightly dazed look on his face.

“is it weird that that kind of turned me on…” David muttered to himself.

“Dave… what the hell is going on? Adam said In a bewildered voice. His voice echoed in the parking garage that they now stood in. David smiled, and typed into the chronivac.

“you were about to give me a ride home, remember big guy?”

Adam, still looking confused, but seemingly unaware of the last 20 minutes of his life shrugged and fished for his car keys.

“Alright man but don’t judge about the mess in my car.” He smiled and clicked his horn. The two of you walked over to the old SUV Adam drove and stepped inside, scooting aside the old take out bags and random junk. Adam sheepishly got In and fastened his seatbelt.

“Thanks for taking me home man, I wasn’t feeling the best.” David said hiding a smile while still typing in his computer. Adam started the car and began to pull out of the parking lot.

“no problem man, it’s been a boring day for me anyway.”

I’m sure it was… David thought pulling up Adams profile again. David pulled up Adams profile. He continued to explore it as they got on the highway - passing the braves stadium. Now it was time to really see what this program could do. He clicked on the occupation section and replaced senior engineer with Uber driver and hit enter. The cars interior suddenly shifted, quickly becoming neater and tidier. An Uber sticker appeared on the windshield. David smiled and Adam glanced over at him.

“Hey you owe me tho David,” he smiled “I could be making money right now instead of driving your ass around.”

“for sure man, I’ll make it up to you.” David grinned. He clicked onto Adams body specifications.

Alright let’s slide that age way down… maybe 22? He looked good like that, but let’s pump up his muscle mass by 80 pounds and increase his attractiveness level. David pulled open Adams identity profile and messed around with a few things. Instead of being a work friend, Adams new relationship to David was a complete stranger. David deleted Adams previous educational experience tab and input college fraternity brother into his profile. He dropped the IQ level down to one of the lower settings. It might be nice for Adam to worry about less right? He input “easygoing” into his profile. He hit shuffle on race, just for some added fun and eagerly hit enter.

the change was immediate. Adam shifted in his seat, losing a few inches of height but gaining a ridiculous amount of mass everywhere. His legs filled in his pants so quickly David thought they might burst. His arms ballooned outwards and his face shifted to a cocky smirk. His pecs jutted out against his shirt, bouncing with the cars motion. The clothes he previously wore liquified and stretched tight against his body - becoming a simple tee shirt and short shorts. His hair styled itself into a skin fade, and a tan crept over his body. A backwards cap materialized on his head, and a stud In his ear as he glanced over at David.

“What? You like what you see man haha?”

The new Adam raised his arm and flexed his now massive bicep.

You both laughed as you felt a mixture of pride and arousal. Adam put a beefy arm on the dash of his car and started typing into the gps, stopping at an intersection .

“Where was it you said you wanted to be dropped off again sir?”

David rattled off his address, trying to hide the growing… excitement that was beginning to show In his crotch. The new Adam glanced down and smirked at David, but continued driving. David smiled, reviewing Adams profile again.

“ So what do you have going on in your life… Adam right?” David asked, trying for conversation with his previous boss.

“We’ll I’m just chilling at the university right now…” Adam said with a dull laugh, “spending a lot of time at the gym and with the boys right now.”

David nodded absentmindedly, sliding Adams sexuality to nearly 100 Percent gay. Just to see what would happen. He slid the Libido curser to high and glanced back up at Adam. A distracted look now plastered on his face, one hand on the wheel, one hand now migrating down to his shorts.

“… and you know… spending time… with the boys.”

David could barely contain his excitement as the two pulled up to his house. Adam threw the vehicle in park and shifted his Adonis frame in his seat to face David.

“Hey man, don’t even worry about the ride today, it was nice meeting you. I’ll void the bill In the app.” He said with a smile. David met his gaze and blushed. Oh my god, was he flexing?

“Oh that’s really too nice of you man, there’s really no need.” David stuttered

Adam smiled and bit his lip, he hopped out of the car to get David’s door.

“No I insist. I Really enjoyed being your driver today.”

David stepped out of the car, amazed by what he had been able to do to his friend. The new Adam held out his hand for a solid high five. He winked and said,

“Message me if you ever need a ride again bro.” With that, he strutted back to his car, then got in and sped down the road - blasting music.

David stood on the edge of the driveway. Clutching his lap top and trying to calm himself. He began to stride into his house, weighing his options. People had warned him, that the chronivacs power could really go to your head if you didn’t have a handle on it. He unlocked the door and paced into his living room. David hadn’t thought much about it, but man had he really surprised himself. In the space of 1 hour he had changed his boss into a horny college himbo without so much as a blink.

He through himself onto the couch and started up at the ceiling. David smiled, thinking of the limitless possibilities that now awaited him. He could literally become whatever he wanted to. Could change the world in whatever way he wanted. The possibilities were so endless p, he had no idea what to do.

After a moment of watching the rotating fan David grinned. He didn’t know all the things he wanted to change, but he did know what he wanted right now. He pulled his laptop back up and fired up the chronivac. Adams profile still displayed on screen. David clicked into Adams relationship status and began clicking around. It took a second to find the option, “willing to sleep with any man.” But David aggressively slammed the enter button and pulled out his phone, finding an Uber text string with the new Adam.

“Thanks again for the free ride today man. Was wondering if you wanted to ride anything else tonight? 😘🍆”

He waited breathlessly for a moment before three dots appeared on his screen, and then a message. Apparently a picture the new Adam had taken at the gym.

“on my way back big guy”

David slammed his laptop closed and ran to change into some more relaxed clothes. That was enough messing with the chronivac for the day. It was amazing what a horny stud he had been able to change his boss into. And ridiculous how quickly David had fallen for him.

David wrestled with his tie and glanced out the bedroom window as a car raced up. The new and improved Adam jumped out and started sauntering towards the door, already removing his shirt. David could only stares as he felt himself begin to go hard. He and Adam were going to have a lot of fun tonight.

#male transformation #reality change #jock tf #male tf #muscle #chronivac #dumbing down #tf story #age regression #inanimate tf #straight to gay

434 notes · View notes

spaceclefairy · 5 months

Text

All Over Again

In which the Ghoul thanks you properly for saving his ass.

Act I | Act III | Act IV | Act V | Ao3 Compilation

The time is almost midnight when you finally close up shop for the day. You don't keep regular hours of business per se - not in your line of work - so you close when you get a break in the number of bounty hunters showing up for payout. Unfortunately, today, it seemed like everyone was getting back late in the day from wherever they were, which left you balancing your contract logbook and counting up the safe late into the night.

You rub your temples and shut the log book. You’re tired of looking at the lines and numbers and yellowed, crumbling pages. The throbbing behind your eyes from the mediocre light tells you it’s time to call it a night.

You take the logbook and small front room safe into the backroom where you hide the larger, sturdier and lock them away for the night. You’ve never had a break-in at your office (it’s well-known that bounty agents are off-limits, lest the agency come down on you full force to reclaim their monies), but you’re not about to test your luck and be responsible for a bunch of payouts being stolen.

As you’re locking the safe, you hear a crash from your office. It’s the cracking, tinkling sound of metal crunching and glass breaking, and it catches you off-guard.

You grab your gun and make your way back into the front office, searching for the source of the noise. You’re sure you’d already locked the door. Of course, tonight would be the night you finally do have someone break in. Whatever’s out there, though, that’s why you keep a gun on you. And you’ve got damn good aim.

The source of the crash isn’t hard to find. There’s a grown man lying on your floor gasping for air - a crumpled lump clad in full, dusty black. “Man” is a kind word, really. You can tell by the ratty duster it’s the Ghoul.

“Cooper?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper. You don’t lower the gun, but you nudge him with the tip of your boot. “Cooper? You ain’t turning, are you?”

The Ghoul gives a hacking cough, wheezing like he’s fighting not to give up the ghost. With whatever breath is left in him, he answers. “Chems…”

You take that as an indication that he’s not turning yet, but you don’t want to press your luck. You do, actually, kind of like the Ghoul, enough that you don’t mind keeping him alive and sane. Besides, you’ve got plenty of vials you can spare if it keeps him from turning feral.

“Shit,” you huff.

You run behind your desk, yanking open every drawer as you go. You’ll have to scrounge around down in the bottom drawers since you’ve already locked up everything valuable in the big safe for the night. Luckily, though, you find a set of chems shoved into the back of one of the drawers.

The Ghoul manages to fish his inhaler out of his shoulder bag while you search for chems. You grab the inhaler from his gloved hand and load it with a vial, roll him over on his back, and press the inhaler to his raw lips.

“Breathe,” you order. You press the plunger and vapor releases into his mouth. You give him a minute to inhale before pressing the plunger a second time. “Again.”

The Ghoul gives another hacking cough, but the wheezing stops. He shuts his eyes, sighing with relief.

“The fuck are you doing, walking around without chems?” you snap. You check his eyes, his vitals, and give him a once over to make sure he’s not been shot full of holes. He appears fine at first glance - particularly when he starts grumbling. “Have you lost your mind?”

He grunts. “Can you gimme a minute?”

You don’t give him a minute. Instead, you haul him up into a sitting position (fuck, he’s heavier than he looks). You manage to pull him up onto his feet and drag him over to your desk chair, depositing him there so he won’t be sprawled out on your floor.

“Stop hovering,” he grumbles, coughing. He leans his head against the back of the chair, closing his eyes. “You’re acting like some old biddy.”

You scoff and roll your eyes. You press the inhaler to his lips again. “And you sound like a dead man walking. Breathe.”

The Ghoul grunts deep in the back of his throat, but he does as you ask and breathes deep when you push the plunger. Another coughing fit, but his breathing finally evens out.

You drop your hand to your side, turning his inhaler over and over in your palm. “You good now?”

“Mhm.”

While he collects himself, you grab his shoulder bag and drop the rest of the chems into one of the pockets. “That’s all I have until morning. Big safe’s on a time lock, so it won’t open for six hours.”

“It’s fine.”

You toss his shoulder bag onto your desk, then sit down on the desk across from him. “How’d you get in here anyway?”

“Broke the lock.”

“Thanks, Coop,” you roll your eyes. That explains the crunching, metallic sounds.

“A lock’s not gonna stop someone from gettin’ to you if they want to,” he replies, opening one eye.

“No, that’s what the gun is for,” you say. “The lock is for clients.”

He chuckles, but he doesn’t reply. He closes his open eye again and relaxes back into the chair. You don’t know him well enough to keep hovering over him, but a part of you wants to, and you can’t explain it. Unfortunately for you, you’ve come to the realization you like the Ghoul - you expect this will become a problem for you sometime in the future.

You stand, wanting to keep monitoring him but knowing, for many reasons, that you shouldn’t. “Alright, I’m not strong enough to haul your ass up a flight of stairs. You can come up when you get it together. Or not - your choice. Just don’t break anything else.”

You leave the Ghoul where he sits and climb the stairs up to your home above your office. It’s not much - barely a kitchenette and a bedroom with a tiny bathroom off to the side, but it’s enough for you.

You undress and climb into bed, pulling your threadbare comforter around you. It gets cold in the wasteland at night, but your room retains a good majority of the heat from the day. You’ll be tossing the sheets on the floor in short order.

You’re half-asleep, just toeing the edge of consciousness, when you hear footsteps shuffling up the stairs. You assume it’s the Ghoul, but you have your gun ready just in case.

It’s hard to tell in the dark, but you can hear him drop his bag onto the chair in the corner of your room, along with his duster, bandolier, hat, and shoes.

“Scoot over.”

The Ghoul climbs into bed next to you, and you promptly drift off to sleep.

+++++

You expect the Ghoul to be long gone when you wake up, but he's not. When you wake up, he's sitting up next to you, reading an old paperback he'd found in your bedside table.

The few times you'd drifted in and out of sleep, you'd convinced yourself you were dreaming. You're not used to someone being in bed with you, and you hadn’t really expected him to come upstairs with you once he’d recovered the night before. You halfway remember waking up at one point to find his arm slung around your waist. Another time, you'd woken up to find you’d shoved your face into the crook of his shoulder, and he'd just… let you do it.

Odd.

“I fixed the lock.”

You blink up at him, bleary-eyed and semi-confused. “Huh?”

“The lock?” he snorts. But, despite his gruff nature, he talks to you a little more gently. “Last night. I fixed it before I came up here.”

Right, he’d broken the lock on your front door when he broke in. You suppose that’s about as close as you’re going to get to thank you for saving my ass from the Ghoul, but it works for you.

You nod and sink back down into your pillow.

The Ghoul holds up the derelict, crumbling paperback he'd been reading. “Louis L'Amour? Where the hell did you even get this?”

“There's a…” you trail off. You're trying to force yourself to become coherent, but you're not used to conversation this early. “A wandering trader. Comes through with old books sometimes. Don't know where he gets them, but he'll trade for whatever's handy.”

The Ghoul is silent for a beat. “I'll trade you for this one if you're finished with it.”

“You can borrow it, Coop. Just bring it back when you're done,” you offer. You stretch out, trying to work out some of the kinks in your shoulders from dragging around a grown man the night before. “Not gonna lie, I'm surprised you're still here.”

There's an unspoken me too hanging in the air on the Ghoul's part. He sets the book gently on your bedside table. You find it strange anytime he’s gentle - it's just not him - but you suppose the capability is there. In fact, you suspect there may even be some tenderness left in him, but you like the Ghoul as he is and take him just the same, viciousness and venom included.

“Well, I figured I'd give you a proper thank you for last night, if you're interested. Morning person that you are.”

You smirk up at him. “Better be a good thank you if you're waking me up.”

He climbs up on his knees and smacks your thigh. “Spread ‘em and find out.”

You gladly oblige and shift so he’s got room to do what you hope he plans on doing. You'd kept your underwear on during the night, but that was it - it just gets way too hot upstairs to sleep in clothes, despite the coolness of the wasteland night.

The Ghoul sees fit to remedy that and strips your underwear off of you, tossing them to the floor. He settles between your legs, still on his knees, and places an ungloved hand on your thigh. Under his gaze, you almost feel a little shy. You don’t know why - you've never been shy a day in your life. He trails his hand down and runs a finger up your slit, slowly, and almost reverently. It would tickle if it didn't give you goosebumps.

He reaches over you and grabs his unused pillow, then stuffs it under your hips to give him some leverage. He doesn't break eye contact as he shuffles down onto his elbows and hooks your legs over his shoulders.

Not for the first time, you’re struck by how pretty his eyes are in stark contrast to the rest of him. Your brain summarily switches off because, as you're remarking to yourself that the Ghoul has pretty eyes (you dork), he chooses that moment to lick you from slit to clit. You jump - you're not sure why, you were clearly expecting it - and that makes him smirk up at you. He does it again, slower this time, spreading you open with his fingers to give himself better access.

You’re not sure where this level of patience is coming from considering how quick he was to slam his dick down your throat last time, but you’re definitely enjoying it. And, of course, just as you’re enjoying how thoroughly slow he’s going, he takes the opportunity to seal his mouth over your clit and suck.

He tightens his grip on your thighs and drags you closer. You can’t stop yourself from grinding up against his mouth, and he doesn’t stop you. No, he slides two fingers into you and chases them with his tongue, spreading you open and licking you deep. You’re so, so close, and just when you’re right there, he stops.

Your head hits your pillow. “Fuck, Coop - don’t stop-”

And then he’s on you.

The Ghoul hovers over you, hands on either side of your head, and smashes his lips down on yours. He hikes your legs up around his waist, grinding down on you. You match his pace, and you know you’re soaking the front of his pants.

“Now, what was that you were tellin’ me to do?” he asks. He slides a hand down your chest, down your stomach, and back down to your cunt before stuffing his fingers back into you. “Hm?”

“Take off your fucking pants, Cooper.”

“Givin’ orders now?” he smirks, but he unzips his pants in a hurry. “Greedy, greedy.”

“Fuck me and I’ll quit giving orders,” you reply.

“Keep runnin’ your mouth and I’ll put it to work,” he threatens, but it’s half-hearted. He’s just as ready as you, and no matter how tough he makes himself out to be, he can’t hide how breathless he is.

You tilt your hips up to give the Ghoul a better angle, and he drives into you just as roughly as he did the first time in your downstairs backroom. You clutch the back of his shirt, scrambling to get a good grip on him, and succeed in yanking it up enough to dig your nails into his skin. That lick of pain makes him thrust into you harder, scooting you an inch up closer to the head of the bed. He clearly likes the bite of pain, and you clearly like giving it to him. He shoves his face into the crook of your neck and scrapes his teeth over your skin.

The Ghoul, for just a moment, has the wherewithal to pull out and flip you over onto your stomach. You’re on your knees now, on all fours in front of him - he flips you so quickly, you almost don’t realize he’s done it until he’s pushing back into you. He grips your hips and all but pulls you onto his cock.

You were already close before he climbed on top of you. You’re so close now - the heat curls up in your belly and at the base of your spine, and it feels so good to just succumb to the heat.

You reach behind your back to grab at one of his hands, but he just takes the opportunity to pin your arm behind your back. He wraps his other arm around your chest and guides you up onto just your knees. The angle is precarious, but his grip on you is iron, and you know he’s not going to let you tip forward.

The Ghoul grabs one of your tits and squeezes. “Come on, babydoll. I can feel how close you are.”

He drops a hand down to your clit, toying with you in short, quick circles. Your whole body tenses, and you come so hard it feels like lightning down your spine. He keeps you pinned flush to his chest until your head drops back onto his shoulder and you can breathe again.

“You got radaway close by?” the Ghoul rasps in your ear. He sounds about as fucked out as you are.

You shake your head. “It’s downstairs in the safe.”

“Fuck,” he hisses. “Where do you want it, then?”

“Back, front, I don’t care,” you say. You clench down around him in response to his thrusts, still wet despite being overstimulated. “Wherever.”

The Ghoul lets you fall forward onto your hands. His grip on your hips tightens as he thrusts into you, and you know you’ll have bruises in a few hours. Finally, he pulls out and paints your lower back with his cum.

You don’t see what he uses to clean you up, but you suspect it’s the edge of his shirt. You collapse down onto the bed and roll over onto your back, watching as he zips himself up and tucks his shirt back in. The fleeting glimpse you get of his skin underneath his shirt tells you his stomach is as raw and red as his face.

The Ghoul looks down at you on the bed, clearly amused watching you stretch and spread out. “Was that enough of a thank you?”

You grin and spread your legs, smirking at him when he glances down. “It’ll do for now.”

He shakes his head. “Next time, I’m gonna make you ride me sundown to sunup.”

“Too tired from doing all the work, Coop?” you tease, laughing when he fixes you with a patent glare. You pat the open spot between your legs on the bed. “You could always stick around another next time.”

The Ghoul pauses for a moment, seems to be almost tempted, but he shakes his head. “Better be heading out.”

You shrug. “Too bad. Bed’s comfortable.”

The Ghoul pulls his duster on, slides his bandolier over his shoulders alongside his shoulder bag, and pulls his shoes on, all while you watch in silence. You can hear him wheezing gently, but you don’t mention it. You’d repacked his inhaler in his shoulder bag the night before along with a case of chems to keep him in check - he’d find them soon enough if he didn’t remember they were there.

Despite the urge to just go back to sleep, you figure you might as well get set up downstairs for the day’s bounties to come in. You grab a shirt and pants and pull them on, all but tumbling out of bed. You’re already sore, and the Ghoul can clearly tell from the way he’s raising his non-existent eyebrows.

You shake your head at him. “Shut up and get out, Cooper.”

#cooper howard x reader #cooper howard #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul #fallout the ghoul #fallout prime #fallout amazon

515 notes · View notes

teamatsumu · 8 months

Note

Hi! I was just wondering if you ever had any plans of making a part four nsfw for the alpha Sukuna series you have? It has me in suspense dkljsaldks

You activated the chip in my brain so i wrote this for you lol. I got so carried away 💀

warnings: swearing, suggestive content, mentions of sex, a/b/o typical vernacular

Imagine Alpha!Sukuna watching another Alpha try to court you.

He is the absolute first to know, because he smells the guy on you the second you step into the room. He is certain no one else can tell, since it’s so subtle, but his nose is sharper than today’s Alphas, and he can tell immediately. He feels himself bristle at the thought. How dare another Alpha, a human one at that, lay a hand on you?

He watches you even more closely than usual after that, especially when you are dolled up. He knows what that means. He’s not an idiot. You’re going on a date with some asshole who thinks he can give you what you need. Well, that dolt couldn’t be more wrong. You don’t need some mediocre Alpha to take care of you, you need him. You just don’t know it yet.

Deep down, Sukuna knows that the Alpha in him is growing restless day after day, watching you get closer to this unknown man you keep seeing. The man you keep allowing to court you. In his head, you already belong to him. You are his omega, even if you only look at him as a curse who takes over your friend’s body from time to time. None of that matters because at the end of the day, the only Alpha who is allowed to stake a claim on you is him.

The day you come back with another scent on your neck is the day Sukuna’s control snaps.

He eyes you from Yuuji’s cheek as you greet everyone and sit down in your seat, ready for class. He can almost see the scent as it lingers on your glands, masking your own sweet one with its heavy Alpha notes. Disgusting. Some other Alpha has tainted your pure omega smell. Someone who isn’t him.

That night, he takes over Yuuji’s body as the boy sleeps, trudging over to your room and pushing the door open. He doesn’t have the courtesy to knock (of course), and he only does so when he finds the door locked. Albeit he smacks an open palm against the door instead of rapping on it with his knuckles.

When you pull open the door just a crack and peek out, you see pink hair and black lines tattooed over your friend’s face, and realize your visitor is not Yuuji.

“Sukuna?” You pull the door further open, revealing more of your figure. Sleep shorts and a tank top. Sukuna almost hums in approval, but instead he feels his nose scrunch. His sensitive nose is still picking up on traces of an alpha scent. He feels his mouth twist in disgust.

“You let him fuck you?”

He sees your eyes widen and mouth drop open in shock. “What?”

“That Alpha you’ve been seeing.” He pushes himself into the room as he speaks, making you back away. He looks around your room. The sheets are ruffled, indicating you were already in bed. The rest of it is very clean.

“I-” You stutter over your words. Sukuna would’ve thought it was endearing if it weren’t for the context at hand. His blood is already boiling, and it is taking everything in him to not find this bastard and skin him alive.

“It’s none of your business.” You settle, avoiding eye contact with him. Sukuna raises an eyebrow.

“Oh?” He steps closer to you, watching you shuffle backward until your back hits a wall. “None of my business?”

He leans forward, hands still buried in his pockets, letting his nose come in contact with your bare scent gland. He feels you stiffen, takes in a deep whiff.

“You smell like Alpha.” He comments. “Been smelling like him all day. It still hasn’t gone away. He fucked you. Right, omega? Why else would you still smell like him?”

“We didn’t!” You sound panicked. “We just…. we did other stuff. He scented me.”

Sukuna lets out a breath against your skin. Feels the way you shiver. He presses closer until his body comes in contact with yours, reveling in the way you feel.

“He scented you?” His voice is low, rumbling, and he feels you fidget. He reaches a hand up, finding home on your hip before pushing up under your shirt to run over your bare waist. You shiver, but you don’t stop him. Your breath stutters. Sukuna grins.

“How did he do it? Like this?” And then he runs his tongue over your skin, licking a fat stripe right over your scent gland. He exhales on it, letting his overwhelming scent erase all traces of any other Alpha.

He hears your lips part as you sigh, arching into him hesitantly. He can almost hear the inner battle raging inside you. He knows the omega in you wants him, but your rational brain is holding you back.

“Or did he do it like this?” And then he bites, teeth sinking into delicate skin. Enough to sting, but not enough to break skin. He teeters dangerously close to mating you, trying to hold back the urge to do it. Not yet. Not like this. When he mates you, he wants his cock buried deep in your pussy. Wants to feel you cum and cry as he sinks his fangs into your enticing glands.

You moan then, the prettiest little sound, and Sukuna wants nothing more than to bend you over and take you right there and then. But a glimmer breaks his trance, pulling away just enough to eye the silver chain around your neck. It has a small pendant on it, heart shaped. Sukuna scoffs and reaches for it.

“This is what he gave you? Courting gift?” He thumbs at it. You nod hesitantly. Your breaths are still coming fast and shallow. Sukuna increases the pressure between his fingers. The chain snaps.

He pulls it off and dangles it in front of your eyes. Then, as you stare at it. He flings it away. He leans forward again, both hands gripping you tight, licking and nipping at your neck again, quicker this time, determined to scent you properly. You sigh at the feeling. The Alpha in him purrs.

“If I smell him on you again,” he grumbles. “I’m going to rip him to shreds. That’s a promise.” His hand runs up your back under your shirt, tracing your heated skin, coaxing you to arch into him more. “Got it?”

Your breath catches. “Yes.”

“Yes what?”

Sukuna can smell your arousal. He holds himself back, enjoying this tightrope you two were walking on. He’s still lapping hungrily over your neck, leaving little nips that will darken into marks by morning.

“Yes Alpha.”

He hums in approval, still licking and breathing on your skin. Today, he had been the only one in the room who caught another Alpha’s scent on you. But he is going to make sure that when you show up tomorrow, even a beta can tell you smell like him and him only.

You’re his omega. No one else’s.

#sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #alpha sukuna #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk sukuna #a/b/o #a/b/o dynamics #omegaverse #a/b/o verse #alpha x omega #omega reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n

901 notes · View notes

wolfchanw · 6 months

Text

Pardon the mediocre photos, these guys are super wiggly. I just wanted to announce that Frogs and Bunny have officially survived week one of life!

Frogs has some serious ulceration on his lower lips, he saw the vet today and was put on two antibiotics and two painkillers as well as fluid support…I had to make myself a chart to keep track of once, twice, and thrice a day medications. It’s a lot for such a bitty little dude but he is so chunky and hungry and happy/purry, he deserves all the support I can give him.

Bunny still feels a bit thin/bony, but her weight is consistently going up and she’s starting to plump up a little. She won’t LATCH on the bottle per se, but if you tuck the nipple under her tongue she makes drinking motions and will swallow a full meal while I squeeze the bottle. I’ve been fostering since 2007 and I’ve never seen such goofy nursing behavior before, but it works so I can’t complain!

#pets #veterinary #fuzzy butt #foster kittens #kittens #kitty cat #baby animals

616 notes · View notes

ferrstappen · 1 year

Text

max, the wag (for the third time) l Max Verstappen x reader

a/n: i was in the middle of writing this when news of Danny coming back to the grid!!! omg I'm so happy of seeing RIC and listening to his radios and everything, it wasn't the same without him <3

also, about requests. Please keep sending them, I've LOVED all the reqs I've gotten but right now im getting ready for my bar exam in a couple of weeks so my time is super super limited, but I promise I'll get to most of them (bc imsorry there are some reqs that I really can't connect with) after the exam, it's one of the things I'm looking forward to <3 but for now this kind of mediocre story telling will have to do...

ANYWAY, HOPE YOU LIKE THIS INSTALLMENT! you can find part 1 and 2 on the master list <3

summary: the continuation of your favorite paddock couple.

Max arrived to the track by himself.

If he was being honest, it wasn’t on his plans to walk alone with the photographers, Red Bull marketing team snatching him for stuff right after he swapped his credential. Even from far away he was able to hear chants of fans and more media than usual.

But you weren’t right there next to him.

He knew it wasn’t your fault, Silverstone not being a track where he was usually welcomed with opened arms and he was aware of you not wanting to be too in the eye of photographers who didn’t make questions to you, but there still were different WAGs and outfits or whatever accounts tracking your every step, especially with the new wave of partners and sudden break ups and polemics.

Still, the selfish part of him wanted you to enter the track with him, even if it was a few steps ahead or behind him, holding your hand and smiling as you complained about the amount of credentials you had to carry: the usual green VIP Paddock, Red Bull something. You’d think after all these years they’d know me, you’d say and he’d laugh.

On the other hand, you finished getting ready and called the front desk to get a taxi to get there, feeling a bit guilty of letting Max go on his own, especially when there were more eyes on the track with Brad Pitt being there and a lot of important people who’d want to talk with him all day.

Texting Max to let him know you were already by the guests entrance waiting when you noticed some intense flashes getting near. You’d been around a time or two to know this wasn’t usual, maybe in Miami but not when you were on the abandoned back entrance, not very glamorous and low key.

But you saw her…

Shakira, are you visiting Lewis?

Who are you cheering today?

Shakira, third Grand Prix of the year!

Did you talk to Lewis before? Is he nervous?

Your eyes followed her, mouth opening when you followed her small frame, exuding class and sympathy, even Alexandra who was also making her entrance stopped to get a closer look of the Colombian bombshell.

Of course, they didn’t ask her to show and get accredited, she just walked by with a radiant smile leaving paparazzi behind as she kept talking with the friend she came with.

But wasn’t that a Haas credential?

It didn’t matter, it wasn’t important, because right then your brain made the connections and started dialing Max while nervously biting your polished nails.

“Baby, everything okay? Are you already inside?” Max answered, but his words were quiet and rushed.

“Yes, but you’re never going to believe…”

“I’m sorry we have a meeting, please don’t go to the paddock, go straight to the driver’s lounge, okay? Love you”

He hung up and you wanted to pull your hair out, knowing he is the one and only person you wanted to share this information with, and you were also certain he was the only person who would truly appreciate the gossip and speculation about his fellow driver’s love life.

Max was able to leave the meeting almost forty minutes later, getting outside for some air until he remembered your call and that you probably were bored to death on the lounge. He was turning around to go there when…

When he saw the one and only Shakira in all of her glory.

He wasn’t starstruck or anything, being immune to celebrities and the imaginary pedestal where most people placed them, but this wasn’t about that, it was about the way she was supposedly hiding under a cap walking towards the Mercedes garage.

He covered his mouth and hastily made his way to you.

You didn’t greet each other with the usual peck on the lips and short hug; his slightly widened blue eyes told you exactly what you needed to know as he opened the door to his small room.

“Please tell me that you saw her!” You said as soon as he closed the door.

“Yes, just now she was walking to Mercedes,” Max was whisper shouting as if someone would hear him and it was the highest of secrets.

“Did you see Lewis?” You asked Max but he said no. “What if you try to ask Brad Pitt if he saw her and like if they’re friends… with Shakira?” This time both you and your boyfriend laughed at the idea.

"I did see Sainz trying to go unnoticed with a tall brunette,do you think she is the new girlfriend?" Max asked and you nodded.

"I'm pretty sure he cheated on Isa with her, and I am almost certain she was in the Paddock Club in Monaco during qualifying," Max whistled at the new information.

Now he kissed you, lips fitting perfectly against each other, but your eyes suddenly opened and separated from him. What? Why? What happened? Max was disconcerted.

“Please don’t laugh at me because this is a serious idea…” You told Max who had your entire attention. “What if we write to Deuxmoi?”

“Deux what?”

“They have all the inside scoops and sightings, even your name’s popped up once or twice,” Max’s eyebrows rose at the information. “We should write that Shakira was seen on the British Grand Prix and I am one hundred percent sure someone will have more information!” You proposed and Max chuckled.

“Schatz, I can just ask Lewis why she’s here,” Max told you before embracing you, his arms circled around your waist.

You rolled your eyes before resting your head on his chest, but suddenly it hit you, swiftly lifting your head and facing Max.

“Then why haven’t you asked him yet?!”

#max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen au #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen #max verstappen blurb #max verstappen x you #max verstappen series #f1 fic #f1 masterlist #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic

2K notes · View notes

cinellieroll · 6 months

Text

☆ random obey me headcanons part 2!

asmodeus, levi and barbatos ♡

part one (lucifer, mammon and simeon)

part three (beelzebub, belphegor, solomon)

part four (satan and diavolo)

cw: some small nsfw on asmo's part :p

small note: thank you so much for the likes and reblogs! i never expected such a large majority of people to enjoy my content so it's very dear to me. once again, thank you!

☆ asmodeus:

- kinda bad at cooking. his way of slicing and dicing vegetables is very mediocre if not clumsy looking. there are days where his cooking is acceptable and days where it's to seasoned or too bland (always convinces himself its good tho and posts it on his devilgram)

- though he's kinda bad at cooking, his baking skills are okay! his favorite pastry to make are cookies because he can design them the most.

- "ofcourse mc! you'll always be the first one to try my desserts! unless you want to taste something else?~ ♡"

- he has a collection of sanrios, hironos and sonny angels in his room. ESPECIALLY sonny angels. crazy thing is he always gets them for free from his fans and its always the limited edition ones

- he really enjoys watching old movies from the human world especially the romcoms. mean girls, notting hill, pitch perfect. he will pester you to rewatch it with him even though you guys have seen it multiple times already.

- he keeps a small jewelry box in his room but instead of jewelry its full of pics of you and him and the gifts you give him. theres some pics in there where the other brothers were cut or crossed out so it'll be just you and him lmfao

- he is a yandere and i stand by this. it's not as obvious but if he's really into you he'll constantly mark you with his scent and the stuff he wears. he'll leave a hickey or a bite mark if you're lucky ;)

- the type of guy to only bring a purse to school. if you ask for a pencil the bitch is gonna open his bag and say "oopsie! i only brought my makeup pouch and mirror today. sorry babe!"

- has his own private concert in showers every goddamn day

- he'll either fangirl with you about celebrities or he'll get extremely jealous because you're simping for someone else.

☆ levi:

- sometimes his ass crack will be on display when he's sitting down on the floor

- wears booty shorts religiously. sometimes he'll casually just walk out his room wearing a hoodie and booty shorts with prints on it

- has a tumblr account where he posts a bunch of hc, drabbles and other shit and until now no one knows its him

- had an amino and discord phase where he always roleplayed with other people. till this day it haunts him at night

- he livestreams twice a week on twitch and has been scolded by lucifer on stream once. there was also a time where mammon barged in his room half naked and suddenly all the views went up 10x

- trolls on roblox like it's a 9 to 5 job

- every once in a while he'll stay in lucifers room while lucifer is doing paperwork. he'll just lay down on his bed, watch and play games and even fall asleep

- makes his own persona in every fandom he gets into and writes very detailed backstories (dw levi, same)

- only reads "x reader" fics for obvious reasons

- went insane because human world games and animes are better than the ones in devildom. dont get me started about aot. (his favorite is levi ackerman obvi)

☆ barbatos:

- wishes he could get piercings but since he's the demon prince's butler he obviously can't

- started tweakin when you said some humans keep rats and bugs as pets. like he stopped polishing some plates and looked at you like you just dog shitted diavolo's name

- really enjoys your spotify playlist filled with metalhead and grunge songs. he really likes slipknot

- likes to order those cute, fancy tea sets when he has the time. when you gifted him tea leaves and a limited edition teapot set his love for you sky rocketed.

- gets annoyed when solomon manspreads

- has a really good voice when he sings. he used to sing diavolo lullabies when his father would get angry at him

- scrolls through levi and mammon's post for educational purposes cuz he wants to learn slangs just incase diavolo asks him what a specific word means

- "barbatos, what does 'runnin from da opps' mean?"

- "my lord, 'runnin from da opps' is a slang made by the new generation. it means fleeing from your haters."

- loves to tailor and iron his bed sheets so he can have a peaceful rest after a long day of non stop errands.

370 notes · View notes

egcdeath · 2 years

Text

the l word

pairing: joel miller x reader

summary: the five times you realized that you loved joel, and the first time one of you says it.

word count: 9.1k

warnings: canon divergent, no apocalypse, 5+1 fic, hurt/comfort, a certain someone gets punched, brief mention of postpartum depression & abandonment, really brief mention of physical abuse in 3, fluff, domestic fluff, angst with a happy ending, found family

author’s note: happy very early valentine’s day! this is part three of the soccer parents au, you can read spectator sport (p1) and clean sheet (p2) here!

this fic would not be possible if it were not for the help of @freakinfairykind, who sent me the idea for scene 3 and listened to my thought vomit whenever i hit a roadblock! you can thank them for the brilliance that is what occurs in that scene :)! enjoy!

part four / series masterlist

Zero

After Nathan, you were sure that you would never fall in love again. Love was supposed to be beautiful and soft—a random bouquet of flowers, having a whole conversation with just your eyes, sweet messages sent to you when you expected it least and needed it most, and foot massages after a long day. For you, love had been nothing of the sort—settling for mediocrity, spitting out venomous words during arguments, and biting back tears on forgotten anniversaries.

Love wasn’t kind or patient, or rainbows and flowers. Love was a storm cloud that followed you around when you were around him, pouring sadness and anger on you and striking you with lightning bolts of resentment.

Maybe some people just simply weren’t meant for love. Maybe you were one of them.

One

After years of trying to hold together a failing marriage and hide the myriad of painful feelings you were going through for the sake of your daughter, bottling up your feelings had become your preferred coping mechanism to everyday stressors.

For the most part, it worked for you. Sure, some days were harder than others, and the smallest confrontation or blip in the day would send you spiraling; but more often than not, you were able to compartmentalize whatever was bothering you and save it for a rainy day.

That was part of what worked so well about the relationship you had with Joel during the soccer season—you had the opportunity to unscrew the lid of the shaken bottle of your feelings just a little bit, taking some of the edge off by yelling about completely inconsequential things. But now, you don't have that outlet. And today was one of those days that you desperately needed it.

Nathan had come by to pick up Chloe just a bit ago, and it was very obvious that she hadn’t exactly wanted to spend her weekend with him. Some of her friends were going to the mall and having a sleepover, and because Nathan wasn’t particularly fond of their parents, he’d very openly told her no. She begged and pleaded to stay with you (mainly so she could go hang out with her friends), which of course broke your heart a little bit, but also led to a pretty dramatic outburst from your daughter to Nathan when he’d picked her up.

“You’re raising a spoiled little brat,” he hissed at you, pointing an accusatory finger once Chloe was in the car.

“At least I’m raising her. You only show up when it’s convenient for you,” you shot back. If Nathan wanted to stoop low, you could fall to his level. “Put your finger down. She’s watching us.”

“A little argument won’t hurt her,” he scoffed. “See? You’re proving my point: you spoil her too much.”

“Because years of watching her parents bicker wasn’t traumatic enough? Get in the fucking car, Nathan.”

He huffed, looking back at the car, then over at you. “Fine. But before I go, I’d appreciate it if you stopped talking poorly about me in front of her. Clearly she’s listening to you and acting out because of it.”

“Have you considered that you’re just a shit father and maybe that’s why she doesn’t like you?” you were already making your way back inside, feeling the avalanche of emotions beginning to stir inside of you, and a little frightened of what might come out next.

“You’re still such a bitch. Every day I praise every deity that’s out there that I left your sorry ass.”

You were viciously fighting the urge to get the last word in, knowing that whatever would come out next wouldn’t be good, and you certainly didn’t want Chloe seeing you like that. You left him with a sarcastic thumbs up, then slammed your front door, taking deep breaths to attempt to calm yourself down.

You crumbled down in front of the door, still maintaining slow and deep breaths. It was no big deal. Nathan just says stuff like that to stir the pot. You just needed to find something to take your mind off of everything. Your mind went to the scarf you’d been working on crocheting, something you could mindlessly do for a little while while you cooled off.

The scarf was going well. You were calmly crocheting the evening away when you checked your phone to find a few apologetic messages from your coworkers. Feeling confused, you went on to check your email, only to find that the promotion you’d spent the last few months of your life slaving away for had been given to someone else—someone who had worked half as hard as you, and even took credit for a few of your projects.

Your hands shook as you set down your phone and attempted to pick back up the crochet hook. You were fine, right? Sometimes these things just happen. Sometimes you sacrifice hours of your free time, hours of time you’ll never get back with your child, or significant other, hours you’ll never get back of sleep, hours of-

You cut your mind off, tossing aside the scarf and taking a deep breath. You were gonna be okay. This just meant you could take your foot off the gas going forward, since your work, effort, and time clearly was not being valued. Maybe you would just sit at your desk and play games, then slap your name on projects and presentations like Naomi. Maybe you’d just-

Your phone began to vibrate on your bed and your immediate reaction was to silence it, but upon checking the contact name, you became slightly more inclined to answer.

“Hey! I almost thought you weren’t gonna pick up,” the man on the other end chuckled.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, although you weren’t sure you’d be able to handle anything else today. With how your day was going, Joel was probably calling you to break up.

“Better than okay. We finished up early, and Sarah’s already at her friend’s. You in the mood for some company?”

No, not particularly. In fact, if Joel came over, you’d probably end up going off on him over something you don’t really mean, successfully putting an end to the best thing you’ve had in a while.

“Uh,” your voice cracked, and a rogue tear slipped down your face. You didn’t even know that you were on the brink of tears. “I’m sorry,” you uttered, digging the heels of your hands into your eyes.

“Sorry for what? You don’t have to feel bad for not wanting me over,” he said genuinely, not picking up on your emotional state over the phone.

“No, I do want you over,” you whimpered. “I just… I don’t want to lose you, too.”

“What? I promise you I’m not going anywhere. Well, I’m going home now, but I can also come to your place if you want me to.”

“Please,” you grit out.

“You okay?” he asked, finally catching on to the fact that something was very off with you.

“I don’t know,” you confessed.

“Do you want me to stay on the phone with you?”

“No.”

“You sure you want me to come over?”

“Yeah,” you sniffled, desperately trying to fend off your tears.

“Okay, sweetheart. I’ll see you soon, alright?”

“Bye,” you hung up, burrowing yourself under layers of blankets and curling up onto your side. Maybe this tidal wave of emotions would pass by the time Joel got to your place. You closed your eyes as you took deep, shaky breaths, wiping away stray tears every now and then as they fell. You could pull yourself together.

You kept telling yourself this as you dragged yourself out of bed to answer the door, but the moment you saw Joel with a box of chocolates and a bouquet of flowers, you completely lost it. He immediately tossed the items down and pulled you into a tight embrace, not exactly knowing what was wrong, but instinctually wanting to comfort you regardless.

You didn’t even really know what it was either. Sure, you were pissed that you’d lost the promotion, and even more upset that Nathan had called your daughter a name while insulting your parenting skills, but it was far more than that. It was every little thing from the past two months that had upset you in some capacity that you had decided to push as far down as possible.

You sobbed until your throat was raw and your eyes grew sore from crying so much. The whole time Joel wordlessly held you, rubbing soothing circles into your back and swaying you back and forth just the slightest bit. You almost felt like your tears would never stop, and the more you willed yourself to pull it together, the harder it was to do so.

Finally, you pulled away, head hanging with humiliation by the emotions abruptly pouring out of you. You truly felt like a live wire. You should’ve just told Joel not to come over.

“Want me to run you a bath?” he asked softly, tilting your chin up so he could look at you, and rubbing a thumb over your cheek. “Or is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”

“A bath is good,” you said quietly, averting your gaze. You almost felt like a toddler in the midst of a tantrum. The shame of being a grown woman who couldn’t even control her emotions was overwhelming, but Joel didn’t seem to mind much at all. He simply led you up to your bathroom and quietly filled the tub for you, checking it every now and then to make sure it wasn’t too hot. Once the tub was filled up, he helped you undress, then held your hand as you stepped into the tub.

“Would you like me to stay?” Joel asked as you settled into the tub.

“Not really,” you admitted.

“Okay. Just yell for me if you need anything. I’ll be downstairs.”

Somehow, the bath was everything you needed. It was just warm enough to relax your rather tense muscles, and just quiet enough to allow you to actually process your thoughts. You sat and soaked in the bath for a while, just inhaling the scent of lavender, and trying your best to let go of the feelings that you’d been holding onto for so long.

Eventually, you felt ready to talk about things, and called out Joel’s name, who after a moment, showed up in your bathroom and sat down on a towel next to the tub.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, reaching for your pruny hand.

“Better,” you answered as you laced your fingers with his.

“Well, I’m here when you feel ready to talk about it. And if you don’t feel ready to talk about it, that’s okay too.”

“Okay,” you said quietly. “I’m sorry,” you apologized, the apology being more of a force of habit.

“You don’t need to be sorry,” Joel assured, “we all feel our feelings sometimes,” he pushed away a bit of hair that had fallen into your face.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like this, I guess,” you continued. It had been a while since you’d shown any negative emotions in front of anyone, let alone a significant other. In fact, the last time you’d been sad in front of a significant other, you’d been laughed at and mocked. You’d been conditioned to see your own vulnerability as weakness, as a character flaw you needed to apologize for.

“Like what? Naked?” he teased, trying to at least make you smile when you’d clearly been feeling so down. “You know I don’t mind that at all. Seriously, though. There’s nothing wrong with being upset, and there’s nothing wrong with being upset in front of the people you care about.”

A tear slipped down your cheek. It had been so long since anyone had made you feel like you weren’t a burden for having a rough day. Joel gently brushed away your tears with his thumb, and kissed your forehead.

“Thank you,” you muttered, feeling all sorts of feelings, particularly one feeling you couldn’t quite describe that had been lying dormant for years of your life.

You eventually got out of the tub once the water had become too cold and you had become

somewhat of a human prune, and you found yourself curled up in bed with Joel, wearing a flannel that he’d left behind the last time he was over.

“Feeling any better?” he asked once again, gently rubbing your back as a trashy reality TV show played quietly in the background.

“Yeah,” you mumbled as you looked up at the ceiling, “it’s been a rough few months.”

“Months?” Joel asked, scooting closer to you. “What’s been happening?”

“Too much to get into,” you sighed. “I guess it just all came out now.”

Joel turned down the volume of the TV, and turned his body so that he could face you properly. “If you want to talk, we have the time. I may or may not have drank a coffee on my way over here, so I’ll be completely alert for the next few hours.”

He gently grabbed your hand and squeezed it, a little reminder that he was here for you.

“Today’s just been… bad. When Nathan picked Chloe up, she was upset so he called her a spoiled brat and said that it was my fault that she was one. Obviously I do a lot for her, and I know that I’m a good mom, but sometimes the way he talks about her scares me a little. I don’t want her to have self-esteem issues because her dad likes to name-call. I mean, she’s probably gonna have enough issues from our shitty relationship and messy divorce. That really upset me, but that definitely wasn’t the last straw or anything.”

Joel silently sat and listened, holding your hand and listening attentively.

“I lost the promotion, Joel. You know, the one I’ve been working absurd hours for? But it’s not just that, it’s just… there are months of emotions I haven’t had a chance to process. I guess it just all came out now after that.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said softly. “Nathan is an asshole. He shouldn’t be saying that kind of thing about his child just to make you feel bad. And your boss is stupid for not giving you that position when you’ve clearly earned it. Everything you’ve felt today is valid, but so is everything else that you’ve been holding in for the past… however long. It’s okay to feel your feelings in the moment instead of waiting for them to boil over.”

“I guess, it’s just… I don’t know. I’ve had to be strong for so long. I don’t know if I know how to not wait for my emotions to boil over.”

“Well, you don’t have to be so strong anymore. You’re not alone,” he assured you. “If you ever need me to watch Chloe because you need to go out to the middle of nowhere and scream, or just need someone to talk your feelings out with, I am more than happy to do so. Okay?”

“Okay,” you agreed, setting your head on Joel’s chest.

You were getting that weird, dormant feeling in you once again. There was an odd warmth in your chest and butterflies in your stomach, that felt strange and familiar, but most of all, exciting. You had no idea what was going on, or what that feeling was, but you did know that you didn’t want it to stop anytime soon.

And honestly, it didn’t seem like it would.

Two

Walking into Joel’s home to the sound of soft guitar chords made you feel a bit like you had woken up in a dream, or died and gone to heaven. It wasn’t often that you’d heard him play guitar. Sing? Sure! He loved to sing along to a song he liked on the radio, or do karaoke with you and the kids. But playing guitar was something that he seemed to like to keep to himself.

Joel had picked Chloe up from school, as you had an important work event that you’d anticipated going quite late, and as you’d predicted, it was nearly midnight by the time you got to Joel’s place. It was rare for you to see those two alone, without yours or Sarah’s presence, but you’d assumed the latter had gone to bed due to how late it was and the fact that they had school in the morning.

So hearing Joel play for your daughter felt… weird. But a good weird. Like he trusted her enough to be doing something that he often kept under wraps, even for you.

“I love this song!” you heard your daughter exclaim from the living room. You rounded a corner, not quite ready to appear yet, but curious enough to eavesdrop on the scene.

Joel chuckled at her reaction, “should we sing it together?”

“Maybe, I’m not very good, though.”

“I doubt that,” Joel said, continuing to play the introduction to the song on a loop.

“I… fine, I’ll sing.”

The two of them began to sing along to the song, and you could’ve sworn that your heart did an actual flip as you listened. There was something very sweet about the whole scene, of Joel playing a song your daughter loved, of him assuring her that she was good enough, and singing something together.

You should’ve felt bad for listening in on the scene, for invading on a moment that was clearly meant to be private, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to feel that way when your heart was so filled with… something that you couldn’t quite place.

The song came to a soft conclusion, and you figured there was no better time to finally step out from behind the wall than then.

“You guys sounded so good!” you stated as you entered the room.

“Oh hi,” Joel greeted a little awkwardly, looking down at his guitar as if he’d been caught red handed.

“Mom!” Chloe exclaimed, coming over to you and hugging you. “I missed you.”

“We were just killing time while we waited for you to get home. How was work?”

“Eh,” you shrugged, sitting down across from Joel as Chloe curled up next to you. “It was work.”

“Mom, did you know that Joel sings and plays guitar? He’s really good!”

“Really? I didn’t know that,” you acted surprised for your child, but looked mischievously at your partner. It wasn’t often that you had the chance to get Joel to play you something, and you refused to let the opportunity slip away from you. “Can you play me something?”

“He can!” Chloe accepted the offer before Joel could begin to protest. God, was this child your mini-you. “Go ahead, Joel.”

He looked to you as if he needed some sort of excuse to not do it, or encouragement to play (more likely than not, he was looking for an out), but you simply shrugged, far too enthused at the idea of him playing guitar for you.

Just as the man sighed and began to put his fingers to the string, Sarah came down the stairs and plopped herself right next to you.

“You guys are loud,” she stated, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

“Sorry for waking you up,” you apologized. “You were just about to miss your dad’s concert!”

“Oh good,” Sarah giggled, getting all comfortable next to you as she pulled a blanket over her lap.

“I feel like this is a premeditated attack,” Joel held onto his guitar.

“It’s definitely not. We just want you to share your gift with the world!”

“Alright, fine. Only because I like you guys so much.”

The three of you cheered from the couch as Joel began to play again, the soft acoustic notes of a love song you’d heard a few times before. As Joel played and sang, he looked straight at you, and you couldn’t help but feel like the lyrics were coming straight from his heart to you.

That warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest that you’d become more and more familiar with over the course of your relationship began to reappear as you sat there, the moment a snapshot of the perfect domestic bliss that had become your home life. As you sat with your two favorite children in the world, and your favorite man, you realized that you’d never felt more content in your life.

Three

When you agreed to come to a bar with Joel, you hadn’t expected it to be a quaint little hole-in-the-wall with great live music.

The atmosphere was lively, the drinks were dangerously sweet, and best of all, it was cute watching Joel in his element. Part of you wondered if he ever saw himself up on the stage, playing for a little audience. Although, he was so bashful and shy playing in front of you and the girls that you wondered if he would like it at all.

You finished off your first drink rather quickly, but you were feeling up for another, and prepared to head back to the bar. “Do you want another drink?” you asked Joel over the loud music.

“I’m alright. Thank you, though,” he kissed your cheek, then looked back up at the stage, directing all of his focus there once more.

You made your way back to the bar, where you ordered another fruity drink for yourself and patiently waited for it to be made, humming along to the cover being sung on stage.

Being able to find out more about what Joel liked to spend his time doing was (unsurprisingly) quite nice. While he was vulnerable with his emotions, he was often a little more closed off when it came to sharing his hobbies and interests. You wondered how many of these live shows and open mics he was familiar with, how many local artists he was friends with. Would he ever feel comfortable enough around you to share those things with you? Well, you certainly hoped so.

You looked around with a small smile on your face at the thought of learning more about your partner’s interests. Had he ever been the one up on stage? Maybe before Sarah was born and he was launched straight into the time consuming world of fatherhood. Although, he surely would’ve shared that with you by now.

You were drawn out of thought when eyes landed on a head of hair that looked a little too familiar for your liking.

No.

There was no way.

This bar was definitely not his scene. In fact, if you’d suggested this bar, he would’ve laughed in your face and called you a hipster, before dragging you out to some stuffy restaurant where he’d complain about the portion size of both his meal and the bill.

Your mind was just playing a mean trick on you. You’d had a somewhat stressful week, and sometimes drinking made you the slightest bit paranoid. Besides, it was just someone’s hair. Literally anyone could have that hair color, or hair cut, and although the world was small, it wasn’t that small.

Just as you began to fall headfirst into your nerves, the bartender handed you your drink, and you walked back to Joel, head still in the clouds.

You couldn’t shake that off feeling, even as Joel danced around with you and stole a sip of your drink, both actions bringing a smile to your face, but not quite quelling the growing discomfort in your stomach.

You just needed to go clear your mind and freshen up. At least, that’s what you told yourself before telling Joel to keep your drink safe and power walking to the bathroom.

You stood at the sink, splashing your face with water as cold as the faucets would go. Nathan was not here. You needed to just relax, and enjoy the fun date that Joel had planned. You couldn’t keep letting this man ruin your experiences, even when he wasn’t present.

“You okay, hun?” a voice asked you while your head was bowed over the sink. When you looked up, your eyes nearly popped out of your head, as if you were some ridiculous cartoon character.

Well. Your brain must’ve really been fucking with you today. Or the Universe just really hated you.

Claire, Nathan’s new girlfriend, was asking you if you were alright in the bathroom of a bar that your new boyfriend had suggested.

You were completely unsure of whether she knew who you were or not, although she seemed tipsy enough not to care.

“Oh, I’m fine,” you smiled awkwardly at her. “But, uh, my mascara’s a little smudged. Any chance you have a makeup wipe?”

“Yeah!” she said, digging into her purse to check for the item.

You’d never met Claire before, but as far as first impressions went, this one wasn’t too bad. She offered you the wipe, then stood next to you as you dabbed at your under eye.

“You meet anyone fun tonight?” she asked, beginning to touch up her own makeup.

“No, I’m actually here with my partner. He really likes the music,” you said casually, dabbing at the same spot so you could at least attempt to maintain your composure in an otherwise dramatically ironic and tense situation.

“Oh no. Was he the one making you cry?”

“Cry? No! I was sweating. We were dancing,” suddenly, a slightly perverse question crossed your mind. “Does your partner make you cry a lot?”

“How do you even know I have one?” she giggled, sounding less accusatory and more confused.

“I don’t I just-“

“No, not really,” she shrugged as she reapplied her lip liner. “He mostly just buys me shit and spoils me. What would I have to cry about? He’s a really good guy.”

Oh, you remembered that phase. Well, phases. The time after he’d slapped you during an argument immediately came to mind. Nathan could probably teach a seminar on love bombing, then making you feel guilty for having any negative feelings because of all the money he’d spent on you.

“That’s good,” you nodded, tossing the used wipe in the trash and making your way to the door. “Thanks for checking in on me and helping me. Have a good night.”

“Hey, do I know you from somewhere?” she asked as your hand hit the door.

“No,” you replied promptly, maybe slamming the door behind you a little too hard.

This was a lot to process, and a lot to take in. Despite having a fun time with Joel, you really just wanted to go home. Finding your way back out to him, you silently accepted back your drink and stood besides him stiffly.

“You okay?” he asked, gently grabbing your arm.

“Fine, just… just.. I have an upset stomach,” you explained. You were never a good liar, the concern in Joel’s eyes told you that you hadn’t suddenly become one.

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” he said, rubbing your forearm gently. “Let’s go home, okay?”

You certainly didn’t protest as he began to lead you out of the bar, and you let out a sigh of relief at being able to leave before running into anyone else you knew.

Although, life was never that simple, was it?

As you approached the door, a familiar voice called out your name, sending a chill up your spine. Joel’s head whipped around from where it was coming from, and scowled when he saw who the voice belonged to. Ignoring him, the two of you continued your departure, a newfound urgency in both of your steps.

Once you were outside, you felt yourself puff out a sigh of relief. You’d managed to get out of the bar with only a brief conversation with Claire, and no direct interaction with Nathan. Now, if you could only get home, curl up with Joel on the couch, and tell him the absurd story of how you’d bumped into your ex’s new girlfriend in the bathroom.

But the universe clearly wasn’t letting you off the hook just yet.

“Hey!” Nathan called as he stepped out of the bar, Claire trailing just a few paces behind him. “You’re such a fuckin’ bitch. Can’t even say hi to the father of your child.”

You were almost alarmed by the speed in which Joel marched over to your ex and reprimanded him. Not even wasting a moment, Joel shoved him back—a warning of sorts, with your knowledge that he was certainly holding himself back.

“Leave her the fuck alone,” he barked. It was like no tone you’d ever heard him use before, not when he was upset with anyone, and not even when he was yelling at a referee for a bad call.

“And who the fuck are you?” your ex shot back.

“Does it really matter?” Joel pressed, not backing down despite the slightly shorter man getting in his face. “You’re not gonna go around trying to degrade women.”

“Oh yeah? You gonna stop me, Mr. Nice guy?” Nathan pushed Joel, but your partner barely budged.

“You fuckin’ cuck,” Nathan muttered. “Why do you even care about this whore?”

Nathan took a second to think about it, glancing between the two of you before a light seemed to go off in his little brain.

“Oh, I know. You’re that guy from the soccer games. You two together now?" His condescension was almost jarring to hear, and part of you worried about what your clearly inebriated ex might say or do next. “I see you’re still the community cumrag,” he directed at you.

You hardly had a moment to process what was just said before Joel was swinging, clearly seeing red as he threw a hefty right hook at your ex, leaving a nasty crunching sound as he fell to the ground.

“Don’t talk about her, or any other fucking woman like that ever again,” he squatted down to his level, and grabbed both of his cheeks. “Leave her the fuck alone, you understand me? Or next time you’re gonna wish it was just your nose.”

Nathan cradled his bloody nose and whimpered and Joel walked back to you, the fury on his face melting into something apologetic as you looked at him with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he began, cautiously approaching you as if he was something to be afraid of. “I shouldn’t have done that. I overstepped-“

“Joel. Don’t apologize. Do you know how much that asshole deserved it? You did everyone a favor tonight, but especially me.”

You had never had someone defend you so literally before. Sure, your friends had argued with Nathan a few times on your behalf, but punching Nathan in the face had truly raised your expectations for anyone who claimed to be doing anything to help you. You don’t think you’d have felt this alive or cherished in years.

“Now let’s get you home and ice those knuckles.”

Four

You were usually a big fan of rainy days. The sound of rain pattering against the window or on the roof of your car, and the smell of petrichor on the pavement were sensations you wished you could experience all the time. But today, you weren’t quite so pleased to see the rain.

You’d taken the day off to spend it with Joel, who had specifically asked for you to take some time off to be with him. You couldn’t blame him, as you’d been slightly neglecting him after things picked up once again at work. You’d had a whole outdoorsy day planned, with a morning hike, a visit to a conservatory, and a picnic at one of your favorite local parks. Unfortunately, none of those activities could be done comfortably in the pouring rain.

Instead, you opted to come back to your place after you dropped your kids off at school, and have a domestic little day-in.

After putting some homemade cinnamon rolls into the oven, the two of you found yourselves on your couch, comfortably sitting together and reading your own books while the smell of warm cinnamon filled your house.

Occasionally, you glanced out your window, the scene of rain granting you a sense of serenity. At one point, you noticed Joel’s gaze out the window as well, and you couldn’t help but comment on it.

“Don’t you just love the rain?” you asked, setting your book down on your coffee table. It was more of an excuse to break the silence than an actual comment, but you said it regardless.

“It’s nice,” he agreed, his tone oddly somber for a comment on the rain.

“You okay, big guy?” you asked before moving closer to Joel.

“I’m alright,” he smiled, but it didn’t quite meet his eyes. There wasn’t any real concrete evidence that something was off, but something inside you told you that something definitely was off.

“You sure?” you asked, squeezing his bicep.

“Yeah, it’s just,” he paused, looking down at his book as if he was about to go right back to reading instead of telling you the issue. After a moment of hesitation, he spoke once more, “it’s the anniversary of Diane leaving.”

Oh. So that’s why he’d asked to be with you today.

You’d never heard Joel say her name before. Sure, you’d seen her name written under a polaroid or two, but you’d never heard Joel reference her ever. Now that you thought about it, you didn’t really know what their deal was. Amicable exes? Divorcees? Was Joel a widower? You felt awful that you’d gone this far into a relationship and still didn’t know anything about his last significant one.

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly, not completely sure how to react. You mainly wanted to get a gauge on Joel’s reaction–just how upset was he? Did he want to talk about it? Or just get the importance of the day out in the open?

“It’s just… Today feels like that day in a lot of ways.”

You nodded slowly, still not exactly sure of how to approach the situation. You thought back to all of the times he’d been there to support you when you were having a rough day, and ended up asking aloud, “is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”

“Maybe just listening, if that’s okay. It helps to talk about it,” he paused. “The rolls smell done. I’ll go get them,” with that, he was off to the kitchen, barely giving you time to react, or even protest his departure.

He clearly wanted to talk, but just wasn’t completely ready to do so at that moment. You could listen. You could be the best damn listener on the planet if that was what Joel needed from you. No matter what he revealed to you today, you were determined to make Joel feel comfortable, and know that whatever he was going through, he wasn’t alone—just as he’d shown you in the past.

By the time he came back to the living room, Joel offered you a plate with an iced cinnamon roll and acted like everything was normal. He sat back down next to you, stole a bite from your plate, then buried his nose right back into his novel.

You respected his right to process his emotions in any way he saw fit. All you could do was be a good partner, and offer whatever he needed from you to feel better, like he’d done for you so many times before.

While you were fine with spending your day cuddled up on the sofa and reading, you were also aware that there were a good amount of house chores that were calling your name. Upon mentioning these tasks, Joel insisted on helping out, which was how you two landed in the laundry room, laughing at something stupid that had happened to you this week.

While you loaded light clothes into your washer, Joel suddenly caught you off guard with a question that was a far cry from the banter you’d just been having only moments before.

“Is it… are you okay with me talking about it?”

By it you could only assume he meant the giant elephant of a woman in the room.

“Of course,” you turned to him, offering sympathetic eyes.

“She left just a few months after Sarah was born,” Joel busied himself by pouring out laundry detergent and fabric softeners. “I just woke up one morning to an empty bed and a note in the kitchen saying she was leaving, she wasn’t coming back, and not to look for her.”

You were taken aback by the cruelty of such an abrupt ending, especially with such a young infant. You couldn’t imagine being put in those circumstances so unexpectedly.

Joel casually poured the respective liquids into their proper places in the machine, then turned it on. “It was a day just like this. The nursery had a nice, big window that we put a rocking chair in front of. Sarah liked looking at the stars when she was younger, it always helped to calm her down. I remember holding her in that chair and bawling my eyes out while she cried too, and with all the rain against the window… it felt like the Earth was crying right along with us.”

You weren’t sure what to say or how to react, but it seemed like Joel was prepared to move right on, quickly changing the subject as he led you out of the laundry room.

Baking cinnamon rolls had left a lot of dishes in the sink, but luckily for you, you had an extra set of hands to help you out. Joel was on rinsing duty, and you were on loading.

You quickly found your rhythm, as you often did with partnered tasks. You worked quietly while loading the dishes, letting the music from your speaker fill up the silence, but it was obvious Joel was lost in thought.

Eventually, he quietly began to speak again, “I kept trying to make sense of her leaving. I knew that postpartum depression hit her really hard, and that she was barely sleeping at night because of how often Sarah was crying. Sarah was a really sensitive, fussy baby. She’d told me how she’d felt a few times, and I always kinda thought things would just pass. Every new parent hits that roadbump where they just can’t see themselves doing this thing forever, right? Then, she just left. I thought maybe she just needed a few days away, and that she’d be back. But days went by, then weeks, then it had been a month, and it was still just Sarah and I.”

“Did she ever come back around?” you asked, setting down the last dish into the sink, then closing the machine.

“Never heard from her again.”

You closed the distance between you and the man, wrapping him in as tight of a hug that you could manage.

“I’m so sorry,” you muttered into his shirt as he melted into your embrace. “I can’t even imagine how painful and stressful that was.”

As a mother, you couldn’t imagine abandoning your child; the tiny human being you spent nine months carrying, and would spend a lifetime loving. But as a human, you understood the stress of being the parent of a newborn. Waking up every few hours because your baby is crying and you’ve tried everything to get her to stop but she just… won’t. Paired with postpartum depression, which you were no stranger to, you could understand the circumstances that led Diane to feeling like she had no other option but to leave. But that didn’t, in any way, make it the right thing to do.

As you held Joel, a sound you hadn’t ever heard from him escaped his lips, wracking his body. A guttural cry that had clearly been trapped deep inside of him for the longest time had suddenly escaped as he recalled an event that had clearly changed his life.

You stood in the kitchen holding him for what felt like forever, when he finally pulled away, wiping his face a little bit.

“Thank you,” was all that he managed to get out.

You laid next to him in bed after a rather emotionally loaded session of lovemaking, trying to catch your breath as the two of you recovered from the underlying emotional and physical aftermath of your fornication. As Joel spooned you, a question lingered on your mind.

“Do you still love her?” you asked, keeping your eyes forward on the wall. You wanted to say you were sure he had moved on, but these types of situations were rather nuanced. There were just some bonds that regardless of time or circumstances, people continued to hold on to.

“No,” he answered clearly. “I don’t hate her, either. I guess I just understand her. But that doesn’t make what she put me or Sarah through any better.”

You slipped your hand down to where his were currently laying on your stomach, and you set one on top of his.

“I’m not jealous, I’m just curious. Do you ever miss her?”

“I used to,” he sighed, the close breath blowing some hairs on your neck. “I don’t anymore.”

Eventually, your laundry was dry, meaning you two needed to get out of bed and get to folding.

“She has a new family, now,” he said out of the blue, as he folded up a pair of your pajama pants. “Husband, kids, dog, the full nine yards. Tommy found her Facebook a few years ago, but I still haven’t looked. I don’t really know why.”

You didn’t really know why either, but you knew exactly the feeling he was experiencing. Seeing your ex who you’d invested so much into and had a child with move on with someone was a particularly gut wrenching feeling. You could only imagine how much worse it was in Joel’s scenario, where Diane had abandoned him and their child, yet had a child and built another family elsewhere.

“Does Sarah know?” you asked, putting a blouse onto a hanger.

“Bits and pieces. She kinda just accepted that her mom’s not in the picture, but doesn’t know why she left or anything about her mom’s new family,” Joel finished up with his basket, then began to help you with yours. “Maybe when she’s older. Old enough to understand that it isn’t her fault and that these things just… happen sometimes.”

“I guess,” you frowned as you grabbed your last article of clothing and hung it up. “It shouldn’t have happened, though. Neither of you deserved to be abandoned.”

“It was gonna happen one way or another,” Joel shrugged, putting your baskets away. “Our relationship had been on the rocks even before Diane became pregnant. If it wasn’t then, it would be later. I’m just glad it happened early enough that Sarah doesn’t remember. You in the mood for a coffee?”

His words gave you a bit of whiplash, but you accepted the offer of a warm drink regardless.

You sat at your table, stirring your drink as Joel sat down across from you.

“Good, right?” he asked. “I think I’ve officially nailed the way you like your coffee.”

“It’s pretty good,” you admitted, taking a sip from a mug that Chloe had decorated in her school’s art class.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Good. It is one,” you hummed.

It was clear that his mood was slightly improving the more that he talked about his experience. You wondered just how much of this information he’d shared with anyone else before you, as he told the story as if he were confessing something for the first time ever.

“I’ve never told anyone this much about it,” he confessed. “I’m glad that of all the people I could’ve told, it ended up being you.”

“Joel, I,” the words popped into your head, but died on your tongue. “I care about you so much. I know this can’t be easy to talk about, so thank you for sharing this with me,” you squeezed his hands across the table.

“Thank you for being so supportive. I also care about you a lot. So much that it scares me. Especially knowing that you could lose everything in a literal night,” he admitted.

“Oh Joel,” you said softly. “I’m also scared. I’m always so scared that I’ll lose you and Sarah and this little blended family we’ve made. But if that’s the price I pay for… caring about you so much, I’m okay with being afraid.”

Joel looked at you like he had something to say, but instead sat there quietly for a moment, processing your words. “Do you want to watch an episode of The Bachelorette?”

“Is that even a question? C’mon,” you stood up.

The two of you cuddled up on the couch once again, this time with a much lighter feeling in the room, partially due to what Joel had confessed to you, and partially due to the absolutely ridiculous content playing on your television.

“I’m sad that I had to go through what I had to go through, but I’m glad that it led me to you,” Joel said out of the blue, resting his forehead against yours.

You were glad that he found you too.

Five

It wasn’t every day that the forces of the universe seemed to be on your side, but for some reason, today was one of those days.

When you’d been called into your boss’ office that morning, a pit formed in your stomach. You’d figured that the day you were going to be laid off was coming, especially following the whole promotion fiasco. As you walked into her office, you fully intended to be walking out without a job.

Except, that wasn’t what happened. You had been promoted, and promoted into a position even higher than the one you’d previously been gunning after.

Once you found out, you had to fight the urge to skip out of your boss’s office, singing and dancing with joy. Instead, you fought that urge by closing the door to your office, and calling Joel.

“Hey honey, what’s up?” he answered casually.

“Joel, they promoted me! And it’s an even better position than what I was trying to get before!” you squealed.

Joel cheered from over the phone, making you somehow smile even harder. “Congratulations! I’m so proud of you. I can’t think of anyone who deserves this more than you.”

“Oh my god, stop it,” you giggled, putting your hands up to your warm cheeks.

“No, I’m serious,” Joel countered. “I know a lot of hard workers, and none of them work as hard as you. You’ve sacrificed so much to get here and it’s finally paid off.”

“Thank you, Joel,” you had more to say, but you decided to keep it to yourself. Mainly, how did you get so lucky to end up with a man like him?

“Are you busy tonight?” he asked.

“I’m just dropping Chloe off at my mom’s, then I should be free for the evening. Why?”

“Why don’t you come over to my place so we can celebrate? You picked the right time to get a promotion. Sarah’s going to her uncle’s for the weekend.”

“Sounds good to me,” you hummed. “I’ll text you when I’m heading over.”

“Alright. Again, congratulations! So proud.”

You hung up and attempted to get back to work, but you were far too excited to focus for too long. You somehow made it to the end of the work day and to Joel’s house without spontaneously combusting from joy.

When you walked in, you were immediately met with the smells of one of your favorite candles, mixed with the mouthwatering scent of fragrant coming from the kitchen.

“Joel, I’m home!” you announced, making your way to the kitchen only to find it very dressed up. The lights were dimmed, a crisp white table cloth rested on the table, and a gorgeous arrangement of flowers sat in a vase in the middle of the table, right next to a rather nice looking bottle of champagne.

Joel was finishing up plating something spectacular as you came in. “Please, have a seat,” he directed. You didn’t need to be told twice.

With the arrangement of the table, you almost felt like you were sitting at a fancy little restaurant, but better, knowing all the effort Joel had put into making the table look this way. He brought over two plates, set one over at his seat and one in front of you, before leaning down and kissing you gently.

“Congratulations. I am so, so, so proud of you,” he said after finally pulling away, reaching for the bottle of champagne on the table.

“If anyone in the world deserves good things,” he turned away from you so that he could safely pop the bottle. “It’s you. I’m glad you’re finally getting the recognition that you deserve.”

With the bottle opened, he poured you out a glass, then poured himself some. You lifted up your glass and Joel mirrored you.

“Cheers,” you said with a grin, tapping your glasses together, then taking a sip. Once you finished drinking, Joel leaned in for one more kiss before he situated himself back into his chair.

“I think you deserve a promotion from best boyfriend in the world to best boyfriend in the universe,” you softly laughed, looking down at your plate.

“Do I? I think anyone would celebrate the person they…” he paused for just a split second, and you probably wouldn’t have noticed it if you weren’t paying such close attention. “The person they’re sharing their life with if they made a big accomplishment like this.”

“Honey, you’d be very surprised. I can think of at least one person who would view this promotion as a bad thing.”

“Well, don’t think about them right now. This is an amazing thing, and we’re celebrating you today. Not an insecure man with a Napoleon complex and a small penis.”

You laughed out loud, nearly choking on a bubbly sip of champagne.

“You’re right,” you picked up your fork and knife, reading to dig into the amazing looking meal in front of you. “Thank you for this, Joel. You always make me feel so appreciated and cherished. You’re truly one of a kind.”

He shook his head bashfully at the compliment, eating right along with you. It was almost cute how he never seemed to accept compliments, but certainly deserved them more than basically any other person that you knew.

“You always show me how much you care about me. It’s only fair that I do the same.”

“You’re so romantic,” you sighed. “How can I guarantee that I can keep you around forever?”

“Just keep being you, I guess. That’s all I’ve really ever wanted.”

How did you get so lucky? How did you manage to hit the jackpot on men with Joel, almost let it slip through your fingers not once, but twice, and still managed to end up with one of your favorite people in the world?

However it ended up happening, you certainly weren’t mad at it, and as you sat together, you hoped for things never to change.

Plus One

Given that you practically lived at each other’s homes now, you often spent your mornings together getting ready to take on the day. It was cute how you both had your own little routines and were able to coexist in a tiny little space.

Today, you stood in Joel’s bathroom, washing your face as the mirror across from you began to become progressively more foggy from the heat of Joel’s shower.

“My hair is gonna be so frizzy,” you muttered to yourself as you rubbed moisturizer into your skin.

“Hey, you’re the one who wanted to come in here with me,” Joel shot back from the shower, turning the water off.

“Whatever,” you grumbled, getting back to work on your face as Joel dried himself off and wrapped a towel around his waist.

“You’re so cute when you’re grumpy in the morning,” he commented as he approached you, standing next to you at the sink.

“I am not grumpy,” you argued, then paused once Joel gave you a very disbelieving expression. “Fine. I can get a little irritable in the morning. Especially when someone’s boiling hot showers make my hair get all frizzy.”

“I wonder who that someone is?” Joel looked around the room in faux confusion.

“Ugh, shut up. You are such a dad,” you fought back laughter, but you couldn’t really help the smile that appeared on your lips.

“Shutting up,” Joel acknowledged, grabbing his razor and some shaving cream to touch up some of his facial hair. You began to brush your teeth, focusing on yourself in the mirror to make sure that you were making your dentist proud.

Your eyes eventually migrated and were meeting Joel’s in the mirror. You flashed him a big, foamy grin, and he immediately broke into hysterics, setting the razor down so he didn’t cut himself while laughing so hard.

“Really?” he asked between laughs. “While I’m shaving?”

“Sorry,” you shrugged with a self-satisfied smirk.

“You are such a dork,” Joel sighed as he calmed himself down, leaning against the counter as he began to work on shaving his face once more. “Ugh, I love you,” the words seemed to come out of his mouth involuntarily, if the horrified look on his face told you anything.

It seemed like the whole house stopped after Joel said it, the dripping from the showerhead ceasing, the faint buzz of the air conditioner nowhere to be found, and the noises of your children downstairs coming to a halt.

You were shocked at the admission, and Joel seemed to be shocked that he’d said anything.

Now that he’d mentioned it, you really did love Joel. You loved how he supported you, and how he treated your daughter like she was his own. You loved that he wasn’t afraid to fight for what he believed in, especially when that included socking your ex in the face. You loved his ability to be vulnerable with you, and the way that he seemed to always know what to say at the right time. You loved knowing that no matter how shitty of a day you’d had, Joel would always be there, ready to order your favorite foods and spoon you while decompressing with the worst, most trashy reality TV you could find.

You’d spent all this time thinking that you’d never experience romantic love again, that romantic love was tumultuous and exhausting, when you’d been in love with Joel the whole time.

You were one of those people who were meant to love and be loved. Joel had proven that much to you.

“I love you too,” you confessed, toothpaste still obstructing your mouth.

Maybe love wasn't so bad after all.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #joel miller imagine #pedro pascal x reader #soccer parents au

3K notes · View notes

sorcerersseestars · 1 year

Text

synopsis: Gojo blames you for the first-years' disaster that the higher-ups caused.

pairing: Gojo Satoru x gn! reader

genre: hurt/comfort, angst to fluff

warnings: mention of death/a corpse, yelling, heavy feelings of self-blame, stuttering (it makes sense here tho I promise), emotionally constipated Gojo, mention of not eating for an extended period of time/being hungry (due to the situation), manga spoilers!! (star plasma vessel arc), indirect confessions

word count: 5.2k

notes: There are some slightly non-canon details. I’m pretty sure that Nanami and Yuji don’t know each other at this point, but let’s pretend they do. Also, I’m insinuating a more seasoned bond between Gojo and Yuji/reader and Yuji - let’s also pretend that they’ve been teaching Yuji for longer at this point, for more angst potential. :) LAST THING - you used to be a very mediocre child/adolescent actor in a few small/bad films. Only relevant for one detail.

Also, Gojo may be a bit ooc here - possibly overdramatic in his wordings - but I really wanted to write a Gojo that loses control of his emotions, since I think it'd be difficult to elicit such a reaction from him. I hope it suits him okay!!

GOJO HAS ALWAYS had a soft spot for you. In high school, he would regularly volunteer himself to take your blame, even though you never asked him to do it and would practically begged him not to. But, he was frustratingly persistent and would do it despite your many protests. If you ever cheated on an assignment, Gojo would claim he copied yours. If you fumbled during a mission, Gojo would lie in the report. If you both snuck out and got caught, Gojo would say he dragged you out with force. Whenever you would have an argument with someone, Gojo would comfort you afterwards, insisting the other person was in the wrong even when they obviously weren’t.

Although he has eventually ramped down this ridiculous treatment over the years, you will never forget this boyish idiosyncrasy from your younger days.

Today, however, it’s like those days never even existed. You don't recognize the person standing in front of you. You can’t blame him for his reaction – it's wholly natural – but it still jars you.

Today, you fucked up. You fucked up so badly that there's a very permanent, unchangeable consequence to your actions – or rather, your lack thereof. The consequence of your stupidity, the result of your thoughtlessness, lies unmoving in this room. The body of Itadori Yuji, separated from reality only by the thin plastic covering of a body bag, rests on a table only feet from where you stand.

His mentor, one sworn to protecting his students, sworn to delaying his impending execution as much as possible, stands before you. His signature blindfold obscures his eyes, and you can only imagine the wild, swirling gaze you would be faced with in its absence.

Yuji’s mentor – your long time close friend, who has never blamed you in any great capacity for anything through the entirety of your friendship – now looks at you scathingly.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” He spits, tone icy.

He's not looking at you as he rigidly hovers over the operating table, but you can feel the intensity of his emotions despite the distance. Words fall out of your brain, and you struggle to string together a cohesive thought.

“I-" You try to swallow the lump in your throat. “The higher-ups told me not to go with them, I don’t know wh–"

He barks out a harsh laugh, cutting off your pathetic excuse. His head is in his hands, fingers roughly carding through his disheveled hair. He pauses in his ministrations to face you: he is suddenly towering over you, broad frame filling even the corners of your vision.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” He growls. “Did you stop to think for even a second? Why would they ever ask a teacher to stay behind?”

Tears begin to slide down you cheeks. You quickly wipe them away and will your building urge to break down to go away.

He sighs, his breath leaving him loudly and aggressively. “I don’t understand how this happened. You know how this works, (Y/N)! You know how the higher-ups are!”

“I’m sorry,” You choke out quietly, voice stretched and thin. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t bring him back, (Y/N)!” Gojo shouts.

Shoko and Ijichi are silent. Shoko is looking at the ground, her stony expression difficult to determine. Shoko, your friend who always sticks up for you no matter what, especially when dealing with Gojo. Shoko, who hasn’t spoken a single word to you since you arrived. For once, she agrees with him.

Your eyes land on the black body bag laying on the operating table, and you can’t hold it back any longer. Your legs weaken underneath you and you begin to shake. The sobs you’ve been suppressing rip out of your throat. Ugly, choking sobs.

Nobody moves to comfort you. If anything, Gojo’s scowl deepens, and Shoko turns away at your display of emotion.

“I know,” You sob. “I know it doesn’t. I know it's my fault.”

You take a few shaky breaths. “I didn’t know- I didn’t mean for it to happen- I- it’s my fault.”

He slides his blindfold down, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. You are about to blurt something else out, but before the words can leave your tongue, you catch his gaze and you’re immediately frozen. His boiling blue irises steal your breath and leave you rooted to the spot. Never in your life have you seen him this angry or even display this much emotion.

“If you keep standing there and crying, I think I’m going to kill something,” He says lowly.

“Gojo,” Shoko interjects in a warning tone.

Gojo bites back, “Why not? We all want the higher-ups gone. It’d be so easy. Shit like this wouldn’t happen anymore.”

Ijichi pales. Shoko roughly says, “Are you crazy?”

He doesn’t answer, and the determined look on his face isn’t necessarily comforting. It seems a storm is brewing – the most powerful sorcerer is being driven to a point.

You’re reaching a point, too – your breaking point. You feel like you can’t breathe. When you inhale, your lungs refuse to inflate past the shallowest of breaths. It’s all hitting you now, clear thoughts rising past the fog of adrenaline that overwhelmed your mind. The reality is that you fucked up, and it’s not fixable.

You fucked up, and there’s no going back in time to change your decision, to go against orders to stay with your students. There’s no way to bring Yuji back.

“Why are you still here?” Gojo says with an exasperated huff, addressing you directly. “Seeing you only adds to my anger.”

You say nothing, your mind occupied only with your regrets. He frowns and tries again.

"Unless you want to dive further into this preventable death," He says coldly. "Leave. There's still a job to be done.”

You barely hear his words. Your brain doesn’t have the energy to collect them, to interpret them, as it hyper-fixates on the horrible hole forming in your heart. Your eyes are wide, pupils enlarged, and you are visibly quivering.

“Didn’t you hear me? You need to leave!” Gojo growls, frustrated at your lack of reaction, believing it to be indifference.

“They must be in shock, Gojo,” Shoko murmurs. “They’re shutting down.”

Shoko’s diagnosis is indeed correct. You don’t hear a single word that comes out of their mouths; your shoulders and heart have grown heavy, leaden, from knowing the fate you led your students to. One deceased, two severely injured. All because of a risk you did not take, an order you did not disobey.

Yuji’s bright smile burns into the back of your eyes, a reminder of what you’ve lost, of the ultimate mistake.

One second, your eyes are on the black body bag, and the next second you can’t see anything, your vision blurred by tears and by speed. You’re running, you realize, legs pumping as fast as they can. Your lungs ache and your legs cramp up, but you can’t will yourself to stop. You can’t think. You can’t catch your breath.

When you inevitably collapse, you don’t know where you are or how much time has passed. It’s just a patch of grass damp with dew, a few maple trees dotting the banks of a small neighboring stream. You’re laying under one of these trees, your arms outstretched so your fingers can comb through the cool, wet blades of grass. You’re vaguely aware the the sun set at some point after you left. Maybe it’s been a hour, or a few more. You have no idea.

You want to scream, you want to cry, but you don’t. You can’t; it won’t come. When his grinning face and determined smile taunt you, reminding you of your sins, you can only screw your eyes shut, willing the torture to end.

Wetness finally runs down your face, and you taste salt. It is oddly comforting. Your hands repeatedly grab the gentle grass, numbing your mind until exhaustion eventually overtakes you.

There’s a buzzing filling your brain. You groan and roll over, reaching out to your bedside table to grab the offending object. You startle at the feeling of sharp gravel under your fingertips – it’s unpleasantly damp, as well, leaving muddy residue on your hands.

The buzzing starts again, and this time you clearly feel the vibrations through your leg. You sit up, scooting back until your back firmly hits the tree trunk behind you, and force your tired eyelids to part. You have to squint, as the sun has already risen and has crossed the sky a fair amount – it must be approaching noon already.

When the buzzing persists, you grumpily rip the phone out of your pocket. It’s not an alarm, as you had expected. In fact, you startle at the caller ID: Gojo Satoru.

You stare at your phone blankly, your brain buffering. You ultimately let it ring out, although your finger hovers over the answer button. Once the screen fades to your usual background, your throat goes dry. Missed calls from Shoko, Nanami, and Gojo fill your screen. You quickly skim the accompanying texts and wince.

Shoko <3: I know we’re all upset, but we shouldn’t have taken it out on you…just let me know you’re alright, okay? (10:43 pm)

‘Nanamin’: I heard what happened. It isn’t your fault, (Y/N), no matter what anyone says. Call me if you need anything. (6:26 am)

Satoru: Where are you? (11:34 pm)

Satoru: Pick up (11:59 pm)

Satoru: please (12:03 am)

Satoru: I fucked up. I need to talk to you, please let me (12:05 am)

Satoru: I understand if you don’t want to talk to me, but let someone, anyone, know you’re alright… (7:12 am)

Satoru: Megumi just told me he tried to visit you but you still weren’t home. (Y/N), please…say anything…I need to know that you’re okay (11:17 am)

It all rushes back to you: your lethal mistake, the deserved reaction you received from your two best friends, how you shamefully ran away. Fuck. There’s no way you can face any of them, especially not Megumi.

You wish this never happened. Hot tears burn your cheeks again; your eyes flood with regret. Shame quickly floods through you, making you feel hot all over. How can you feel sorry for yourself when it was your fault in the first place?

You roughly wipe your face with your sleeve and stick your phone back into your pocket. There’s no way you can respond right now. It’s bound to die soon, anyway, so there’s no point in trying.

You don’t want to move from where you sit. You want to sink into the ground and stay there until the horrible feeling inside you goes away. But…

“What if it doesn’t?” You whisper those words out into the universe, a sinking feeling in your gut telling you the answer.

You want to cry more, allow yourself to shed more tears, but you don’t. You wobbly stand up, and are surprised at how weak you are. When was the last time you ate – yesterday morning, before the disastrous mission?

You have to go home. You can’t stay here, in the middle of nowhere, neglecting yourself. It’s a thought that rings in your head and won’t leave you alone until you decide to listen. Okay. You will go home. You can manage that.

It takes a while, but you find your way back to your apartment. Last night, you had apparently meandered into an expanse of empty land neighboring the school, as you pass by Jujutsu Tech on your way back. It is a bit off the beaten path – you doubt anyone has ever intentionally gone where you ended up last night.

During your journey home, you have to reference your Google Maps app a few times, but you somehow successfully get back home, despite your directional challenges and weakened state.

Until you step into your apartment, you don’t realize how cold you are. Your feet are numb from being cold and wet, your toes icy when you peel the damp socks off. You cringe at how unaware you have been at your body for the past 24 hours: your mental state ignored all physical needs.

Your stumble to your bedroom, aching body screaming for a rest. You relent easily, collapsing on your bed face first. You’re so grimy and covered in remnants of the dirt bed you laid in last night, evidence of your outside stay covering your clothing. Bits of twigs and leaves invite themselves into your sheets – you couldn’t care less right now, though. You don’t even think about it.

On instinct, you plug your dead phone in without even looking. There’s silence for a minute or two before it whirs back to life, the screen flashing at your tired eyes.

There’s another message waiting to be opened.

Megumi: Come back soon, sensei. He’s getting unsufferable

Megumi:…more than usual

A hoarse chuckle leaves your throat, the first laugh that’s left you since the whole incident. You sigh immediately after though, as you begin to wonder how Megumi has been dealing with everything. If you hadn’t run away, then…

Your head is in your hands again. No matter what path your thinking strays down, you keep returning to your immense guilt over what happened.

You wish you were mad at someone. You wish that you felt angry at Gojo, but you aren’t – you can’t be. In your eyes, he wasn’t wrong; how could you be mad at him when you agree?

You’re not mad, but there’s this other unpleasant feeling. It feels like one of Nobara’s nails has been lodged in your chest, and every time you think about his reaction, the nail twists a little deeper into your heart. He’s never yelled at you before. That hurt.

It’s understandable, but it still hurts.

Gojo…You don’t think you can face him yet, but he may come to you if your radio silence continues. Maybe you should just get it over with and call him. You can just tell him you’re alive and hang up. That should suffice.

Without thinking further on it, you grab your phone and dial his number. Within two rings, the line connects.

“Yo, (Y/N)! Long time no hear!” His chirpy voice booms through your speakers. He’s back to his usual self – overly casual and full of mirth. He sounds way too cheerful; it throws you off guard.

A sharp inhale leaves you as you’re about to tell him that you’re fine and to not worry, so that you can hang up and avoid him. But, nothing comes out. Everything you thought of saying flies out of your brain. You’re left wordless, mouth hanging open.

“You there? (Y/N)?”

You shake your head, coming to your senses.

“Yes,” The single word that leaves you is weak and breathy.

“You good? Are you home now?”

“Yeah. Home now. I’m alive, so no need to bother checking in on me,” You say thoughtlessly.

God, that was lame. You can’t help but cringe at what you just said. It’s what you intended to convey, yes, but that’s not how you wanted to say it.

“Just alive? Sounds real peppy over there!” He chuckles. “I was going to come over anyway, but you’ve really pushed it over the edge.”

“Ah,” You say somewhat panicked, searching for a way out of this. “There’s really no need. I just need rest so there’s no need. I’ll see you later, then.”

“You mean soon!” He chirps before you can hang up. You groan into your pillow; this is exactly what you had been trying to avoid. How are you even going to look at him?

You’ve just put your phone back on your nightstand when there’s sudden footsteps approaching your bedroom. Before you can think further, the door is flung upon and a familiar figure appears before you.

“Ultimate best friend Gojo Satoru has arrived! Everyone applaud!”

A series of small claps ensues, while you just stare on in silence and disgruntlement. A wide smile stretches across his face at your displeased expression.

“C’mon angel, not even a single clap? That’s cold.”

You roll your eyes, but only half-heartedly. The gesture is so pathetically slight that Gojo’s smile falls a fraction. You don’t have much emotional energy to expend on humoring him, it seems. Because of him.

It’s then that he fully takes in your appearance. Tear stained cheeks, dirt caking your clothes and body, scraps of organic material matted in your hair and clinging to all parts of you. There’s even smudges of dirt around your eyes where you’ve attempted to wipe away tears.

He questions your appearance, trying to appear lighthearted, “Was the forest calling you? You really didn’t sleep here?”

You immediately feel self-conscious of your appearance and cross your arms. You manage out a quiet, “Something like that.”

“No, seriously…where did you sleep?” He probes, this time lacking the lightheaded tone.

A weak, sheepish smile appears on your lips, “Ah…the ground? You were right, I guess.”

He blinks. You rub the back of your head and avoid eye contact, softly laughing an awkward little chuckle.

“Seriously?” He asks, but it lacks any judgment. He is truly just in disbelief.

You just nod.

“Hey, are you…are you sure you’re okay?”

You weren’t expecting that. You wish he would stay in his childish mindset – these real questions are worse.

You breathe out slowly, “I mean…yeah. I’m fine.”

It’s not a very convincing delivery, but it was the best you could manage. The corners of his lips turn down slightly, almost unnoticeably, but he doesn’t comment on your answer. He knows he should question you further, dig a little deeper, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he excuses himself, “I’ll be right back. Just stay put! I’ll know if you move, so you better not move an inch.”

He raises two fingers to his eyes, then directs them to you, clearly saying ‘I have my eyes on you!’

It’s amusing - he’s always amusing - but when you try to smile, your lips just flatline. You can’t tell if he notices, since he has already turned away and walked into the bathroom, but you hope he couldn’t tell.

When he returns, he’s holding a dampened washcloth.

“Bath time!” He says, shaking the cloth excitedly in front of you. You flinch a little as a few stray drops of water unexpectedly land on you, which he lightly laughs at.

And then he begins swiping away the dirt that has accumulated on your body. He starts with your face. He’s on his knees, one elbow resting on the space neighboring your right thigh, leaning in to have more control with the cloth. You close your eyes when his face comes within inches of yours - too close. Even when you feel as horrible as you do now, your heart won’t stop thumping quickly against your ribs, as if it cannot deny those deeply hidden feelings you harbor.

He hums while he works, gently dabbing all the places where you have visible dirt. It’s comforting, or at least it should be. You heart begins to clench tightly, and you so badly want a hole to appear in the ground to swallow you up.

“Gojo, why are you being so nice now?” You ask, voice small. “I don’t really deserve it. I’d…prefer the alternative. This feels wrong right now.”

He sets down the cloth, wincing at your pitiful words. Is that how you really feel?

He pauses. He’s not good at this sort of thing – acknowledging other people’s vulnerability, lowering his own walls to empathize with others, any of it. He hates it. He hates how emotionally he acted yesterday, he hates how it has affected you.

“No,” He sighs. He speaks slowly as he carefully chooses his words, “I…shouldn’t have acted like that yesterday. It wasn’t fair to you.”

Your bottom lip trembles, but you force yourself not to cry, “It’s okay. I don’t blame you for it. Everyone was thinking it.”

He tries to catch your eye, but your gaze is downcast. He ducks, lowering himself to the ground even more, to enter your field of vision.

“Hey,” He says softly. “Do you trust me?”

Your brow furrows; you don’t understand why he’s asking you that. You feel yourself nodding, though.

“Everything I said yesterday,” He starts, but then shakes his head at himself. “No, everything I yelled at you yesterday – it was misdirected. What happened wasn’t your fault. There was no way of knowing what was about to happen.”

“But now, it’s obvious,” You mumble. “I should have known.”

“Hindsight is twenty-twenty. You were following orders. The ones assigning the orders are at fault, not you.”

You grab your sheets with tight fists. You turn your head to the side, away from his invisible gaze, “Orders that were obviously suspect. It’s still my fault as an experienced sorcerer.”

Gojo’s chest constricts. You sound exactly like he did yesterday; the consequences of his actions echo back to him from your mouth.

“I promise it’s not,” He insists, but it falls on deaf ears. “I’ve made mistakes too. I’ve made mistakes, but you never treated me like I treated you yesterday.”

Gojo clenches his teeth. This is hard. He hates bringing up this side of the past, but he’ll do it for you.

“You never judged me for what happened during the Star Plasma Vessel mission. Even though you wanted to leave that night, and I ignored you, you never blamed me.”

“You were seventeen,” You say quietly, shakily. “We were all kids. That was over a decade ago.”

“But you knew how to make it better,” He says breathlessly. “And you never even once insinuated that it was my fault.”

You smile sadly at him, and your next words are sure and immediate, “Because it wasn’t.”

Gojo’s mouth hangs open for a second, still amazed at the understanding and kindness that so easily shine through you even in the darkest moments.

He reaches out for your hands, unsure, and squeezes them when he finds them. “Can I…can I start over ? From yesterday?”

You blink blankly, not completely understanding, but give a hesitant nod anyway.

He exhales deeply and lowers his head to your hands until his forehead brushes your fingertips. It’s completely unexpected, and you freeze upon contact. His head is bowed to you – embarrassment and confusion flood you.

You are relieved when he raises his head to speak.

“What happened with our students isn’t your fault,” He says quietly but with conviction. “It’s the work of the higher ups - it’s their fault, nobody else’s. I’m…”

He pauses. Words he never says need to come out.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry that this happened while you were here and I was away, I’m sorry that I blamed you for things out of your control. This was never your fault.”

You are silent. You say nothing. You don’t move. Your expression stays blank.

He panics. He takes your silence as a sign of not being forgiven – which is not what he fears, in fact he doesn’t want to be forgiven. But he doesn’t want to lose you, and that’s exactly what he thinks has happened. Did he completely sever the bond spanning more than a decade?

“I understand if you can’t forgive me, but,” He swallows thickly, the anxious feeling rising. “But I hope this doesn’t…”

He tries again, “I hope our friendship…I hope you- I don’t want to lose you after all we-”

“Satoru – it’s not that,” You say quickly. “You haven’t, I promise. I have already forgiven you. I forgave you from the moment it started.”

You close your eyes, clenching them shut. You don’t want to cry again. “It’s just that…even if I’m not directly at fault, Yuji is still dead. Our student is dead. Despite anything that can be said of the situation, that fact will not change.”

He really shouldn’t tell you this. He needs to, but he shouldn’t.

“Do you trust me?” He says again, voice only a whisper. He’s even closer now, only inches away. A hand raises to ease his blindfold down so that it rests loosely around his neck.

Your eyes on his are so clear, and reveal so much – surprised by his bare gaze, confusion clear in your beautiful eyes he finally can see so clearly up close.

“Of course,” You whisper breathlessly. “Always have.”

“Close your eyes, and hold on,” He says. “Don’t want you getting lost again, angel.”

You know what that means. Teleportation. But where could he be taking you that is so important right now? Maybe somewhere he knows you like to calm you down?

You’re taken aback by the rush of air around you even though you’ve traveled like this many times.

The few uncomfortable moments in the strange vortex allow you to question where be could be possibly be taking you. Before you can decide on an answer, however, the roar in your ears subsides, and you are steadied by his grip around your shoulders. He's so close again, wisps of his soft hair tickling your neck. One of his large hands drops down to clutch yours. You’re ashamed about now nice it all feels in such a situation.

Then all that slips away and you're immediately on guard - there's another cursed presence nearby.

“Gojo-sensei, you’re back? That movie was kind of weird and bad, but I swear that one character was (L/N)-sensei. Do they have a twin or something?”

Your eyes pop open. Your hand falls out of Gojo’s as your grip completely goes slack. That voice…Youthful, full of energy and a kind innocence. It could only be...

Gojo responds ecstatically, dramatically, “Ah, but of course not! I have brought an honored guest! An old time Hollywood star whose home was the red carpet! The famed, the budding talent, (Y/N)-”

He’s cut off by a shriek. He blinks twice, and you’re already far from his side, rushing to the secret he has to keep - the secret he couldn’t possibly keep from you.

You crash into Yuji, binding him in a crushing hug. He's open mouthed and spluttering in surprise, but you don't have it in you to be embarrassed right now. You have no idea how, but he is standing before you, living and breathing. As seemingly endless tears pour down your face, you miss now the confusion on his face morphs into a look of grim understanding. He doesn't know what you went through, but he can guess.

And then you're laughing. Crying and laughing. Heaving breaths to accommodate your almost hysterical laughter, standing back to wipe away your tears before hugging Yuji again.

The sight of you hugging your student so tightly, healing with just this action, coaxes a half smile out of Gojo. Only half because he is in danger of faltering himself, bottom lip wavering as a wave of emotion flows over him.

The abandoned blindfold is clenched tightly in his hand as he tries to hold back the emotions welling in his brilliant eyes. He almost wants to put it back on to hide the emotions underneath, but he can’t, not when the whole reason he took it off was to see this with his own eyes.

No words are exchanged for a long while. They don't need to be, and even Gojo can see that.

By the time he is taking you home, your dynamic has shifted back to something more normal. It's raining, but you insist on walking back, citing the fact that his teleportation makes you horribly dizzy. (Or maybe, just maybe, you want a little more time with him. But you'd never admit that to yourself.)

The constant overhead drizzle is a bit annoying, but is bearable despite Gojo's claims of it tainting his very existence. He’s clearly back to his overdramatics - it's comforting.

The streets are dark, with only muted warm yellow lights lining the sidewalks, creating only vague halos of light due to the misty air. Gojo walks close to your side, an arm wrapping protectively around your shoulders. At some point through your chatting, it slips down to your waist. You don't notice it right away, but once you do, all you can do is wonder if he's done that before - if it's normal for friends.

You notice something else strange. His blindfold is still loosely hanging from his body, his baby blues on display. It's hard to look at him like this - you feel too exposed - even though you desperately want to get lost in his eyes. Yes, your deep affection for him still rings true, even if he yelled at you, even if he did expose your horrible, cringey child acting.

“I can’t believe you put on that movie!” You exclaim, miming exasperation.

Gojo chuckles, “Scolding me again, that’s a good sign. Even if it’s for an illogical reason – c’mon, ‘Painters in Paris’ is a classic!”

You can’t hold back your wide, devious smile, “I guess you would think that since you literally look like a fucking paint brush!”

His jaw drops, and he looks at you faux-offended as you practically double over in laughter.

“Angel! No, I really should be calling you devil! You- get over here!”

Although you run from him, he quickly catches up to you and you’re in his grasp. He immediately overwhelms you with vicious tickles.

“Gojo!! Satoru, you– stop that!” You say between bouts of laughter. You’re off balance, and his relentless attack isn’t helping. “Hey, stop, I’m gonna–!”

You stumble and begin to topple to the cold cement, but you’re scooped up before you meet your demise.

A small gasp escapes you at your proximity, and at his eyes so clearly looking deeply into yours, yearning burning through them. He's never looked at you like this - has he?

“Woah! That was close, huh, angel?” He smiles, tone nonchalant and voice steady. He seems unaffected by your closeness, but his eyes tell a different story. You don't know what to trust - him or his eyes. But they say that the eyes are the windows into the soul – what answer does that leave you with?

And what answer do you have? Right now, with his strong arms around you, those beautiful eyes glittering as if they hold a sea of stars, that sweet smile that never fails to give you butterflies, those lips you can’t help but glance at for too long–

You know.

Without thinking, you give in to your instinct to keep leaning in, and your lips meet his. It's not a passionate crash, but more of a gentle whisper to the soul. A soft brush to his lips, all the sweetness he brings to you returned.

Then, you pull away slowly, almost in confusion. Did you just do that?

You’re horrified. What did you just do without a single thought behind your action?

A gentle chuckle brings you out of your momentary horror.

“So what, you’re a paint brush kisser now?” He chuckles softly, his thumb gently brushing against your lower lip.

You take in his expression - flushed cheeks, a soft smile, eyes full of a softness you've never imagined they could have.

"Yes,” You agree, your mouth stretching widely from the excitement and happiness you can’t hold back, “ l proudly am.”

He pulls you closer and kisses you deeply, again and again and again until you're both out of breath. You both stay in that moment, feelings that lay hidden for years finally spilling out, until you're completely engulfed by the rain.

note part 2: I have a tendency to be over-detailed about boring/fluff details, so I tried to do that less here. First one shot in a while !! I hope the flow is still okay…I also couldn't decide how to do the ending, so l hope this works?

Also wow I can’t stop writing hurt/comfort and Gojo being an ass! I have another story drafted that’s also Gojo x reader and hurt/comfort as well…

Here’s a hint about that one: 🌸🩸

If you’re looking for more hurt/comfort, here’s my gojo hurt/comfort series: here (more action-y than this though)

Thanks for reading !! :)

#gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru is a little shit #jjk #ieiri shoko #gojo fanfic #yuji itadori #gojo satoru is emotionally constipated #gojo x reader #gender neutral mc #gojo satoru x you

1K notes · View notes

dr3amlab · 2 years

Text

archetype (so pretty that you kill me softly), dm.

SUMMARY — Draco wasn't listening to you for he was too distracted by your beauty.

PAIRING — Draco Malfoy x reader

GENRE — one shot, established relationship, flufffff lots of fluff.

WORD COUNT — 389 words.

INSPO ⏤ archetype by omar apollo

The words coming out of your mouth were undoubtedly interesting but draco didn't seem to pay attention to any of them. With his cheek resting on the palm of his hand, draco nodded occasionally to make it seem like he was interested in whatever story you were telling.

Don't get draco wrong, it's not that you aren't interesting or that your storytelling skills were mediocre because on any other day, malfoy would have been listening eagerly to you.

However, today was an unusual day because draco looked at you a little differently ; It may have been the way you styled your hair today or how the rays of the late afternoon sun casted on your face making your skin golden but draco found you even prettier than usual.

Draco's eyes trailed from your eyes, to your nose and lips thinking about how gorgeous you were. All of your features matched perfectly and made you looked ethereal. Malfoy sometimes wondered if you were a creature from Venus for there were millions of girls in the world and none of them were close to looking as perfect as you.

The blond boy's eyes perhaps lingered too much on your lips that he didn't realize that your eyebrows frowned, "Are you even listening to me draco?" you said catching your boyfriend's attention. Draco looked at you with guilty eyes, "yes I totally am listening to you!" You quirked an eyebrow, "then what was I talking about?" you questioned while watching him with an amused gaze, "uh⏤ you were talking about your family vacation?" he said with uncertainty laced in his voice while bearing a confused expression of his face as if he didn't even know what his sentence meant.

Seeing how confused he looked, you laughed heartily which made Malfoy's face relax into a smile for the sound of your laugh sounded melodious to him, "draco, you weren't listening, were you?" you asked and he nodded his head with an apologetic expression on his face, "so, a penny for your thought?" you tilted your head, "did I ever tell you how pretty you are?" he said with a soft voice, "you always do dray," you giggled.

Draco put his hand on yours, "good, 'cause you're killing me y/n." the blond boy planted a kiss on your cheek, "I'm so lucky to be your boyfriend," he smiled.

3K notes · View notes

midnightarsenal · 10 months

Text

𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐞

Summary: Some old tweets come out and it puts you between a rock and a hard place.

Warning: Internalized Homophobia

Word Count: 2.6k

Arsenal Training Centre, St. Albans

///

You could sense the tension in the air before you'd even stepped through the doors.

...

The past few days had made you a bit of a nervous wreck. The result of some Sam Kerr fan account on Instagram posting a collection of old tweets you'd made nine years ago, back when you were 13.

Old, profoundly homophobic tweets.

And while some fans, mostly those already partial to you, had taken that substantial amount of time and your youth into account, many others had not. Instead, they hurled abuse alongside calls for the club to drop you at the earliest possible opportunity. You'd even tried disabling comments on your most recent social media posts before quickly realizing that the comments would simply move to older ones. Despite how bad some of them had become, you still found yourself not quite willing to disable the comments on every post you had ever made.

It was your own fault anyway. You had been signed by Arsenal a few months ago, having spent the years before that going from one mediocre team to the next until your international performance in Australia had seemingly caught the attention of several larger clubs, the Gunners included. You'd been positively over the moon when your management agency had called to give you the good news. It should have been your big break, and for a period of time, it was, but a position in such a prestigious club came with a level of increased publicity that you hadn't been fully prepared for.

You knew that you should have purged your Twitter before the contract had even been made public, but you'd long forgotten about those posts, those awful comments, and bigoted 'jokes' that your massively insecure thirteen-year-old self had felt the need to put out into the world to try and convince everyone that you were certifiably straight. To convince yourself in some deluded way that you did not frequently lose sleep over the increasingly intrusive and borderline distressing thoughts that plagued you every time you were around some of your friends at school and the teammates at your youth football academy.

Those thoughts just hadn't been you, of course. Because you were straight.

Or, at least that's what thirteen-year-old you had wanted to think at the time.

In the teenage years that followed those tweets, you had eventually been able to come to terms with your sexuality. It had been a slow, long, and painfully drawn-out process, but while the influence of your conservative family had worked to reinforce the close-minded worldview you had been raised with, being around so many openly gay women in your football career had ultimately proven to be a much stronger force in your life. To see that contrary to what you had been told, these supposedly evil and degenerate people were in fact perfectly ordinary and typically far kinder than the 'just' and 'moral' types you had been surrounded by in your childhood.

But, while you had gradually been deprogrammed from the more outwardly hostile and bigoted elements of how you'd been brought up, you had never quite gotten around to being proud of who you were, to being able to let yourself embrace what you felt and to let yourself be happy. Even today, all these years later, you still struggled to imagine yourself feeling the warmth of another woman, a woman you could love as more than just a friend, and a woman who you could feel comfortable telling the world about.

So, you had simply tried to ignore your feelings. Even as you went from teenager to adult and semi-professional to professional, you resigned yourself to a world in which love was an impossibility, where every teasing question from a friend about your romantic endeavors was expertly deflected with a non-committal answer and a change of topic.

You had learned to be happy for the women in your life who were openly gay and celebrated their relationships sincerely like a good friend would, but you could never deny yourself the reality that every time a close friend announced their new partner, you would feel a twinge of remorse, pain that was sourced from fleeting, quickly suppressed thoughts of a life not lived, an opportunity not taken, and a romance denied its potential. It was a sad way to live, but as sad as it was, the thought of telling the world that you were gay was even worse. It had always been worse.

...

And so now, as the sliding doors of the training centre's lobby parted, you found it a difficult task to keep your nerves from becoming overwhelming.

Management had already spoken to you about the tweets and the response on social media to them. Fortunately, no proper news outlet had put out an article on the 'situation' yet, but the club's PR people had seemed pretty nervous that eventually, one of them would. You'd told them that you hadchanged since you were thirteen and that you'd be more than willing to put out an apology. But, ultimately, their advice had been for you to simply stay quiet and hope it all went away on its own. Something that you had been less than thrilled to hear, as if you were ever confronted by a scenario in which it didn't just go away on its own, and eventually you were told to put out an apology, it would likely be too late by the time that you did.

"Morning, Y/N." you were taken away from your thoughts by the young woman at the front desk, Catherine. She was smiling, but you could tell it was a bit of a sympathetic smile, like the woman was trying to show that she was on your side. You appreciated the sentiment, of course, but being treated differently at all because of this was only making your nerves worse.

"Heya." you tried to greet back casually with a smile of your own, and despite your best efforts, it came across as an 'I know' type of smile, a visual confirmation that you acknowledged what had been happening on the Internet these past few days, and her small attempt to make you feel better.

You had almost passed her, ready to head deeper into the large facility when you abruptly stopped and asked, "Any of the other girls here before me?" To which the shorter woman behind the desk nodded, her demeanour steady in its sympathy towards you, knowing why you would be asking. After all, you were on a team with two gay relationships within it, let alone the number of players who just swung that way in general. And aside from the occasional joke or tease (the latter of which often hurt you to an extent that none of your new friends could possibly know), you were pretty certain that none of them actually thought you were a part of that category.

None of the girls had messaged you in the past twenty-four hours, which, while a little uncommon, wasn't an immediate tell that you had been made a pariah. The last message you'd gotten had been from Steph asking if you were available for a coffee date on Saturday, and that had been just over a day ago. Late enough to have been after that stupid account had posted those screenshots, but early enough to have been before many people knew about it.

Fuck, this was really getting to you.

You continued your way down the corridors of the training centre, each heartbeat feeling a little heavier than the last as you drew closer to the locker room. Knowing that at least a few of the girls would be there this early in the morning, getting changed or having a shower or just socializing as they waited for others to arrive. You wondered if they were talking about you, and if they were, what they were saying. You were wondering if they had already agreed to shun you, or even speak to Jonas about getting rid of you. Fuck, this was fucking getting to you.

You gripped the handle of the bag slung over your shoulder a little tighter as you approached the locker room and took a breath before opening the door, a hundred different scenarios having crossed your mind from the time you'd left the lobby to now.

Stepping into the locker room, the atmosphere was a stark contrast to what you had braced yourself for. It was business as usual—some of the girls were chatting casually, others were prepping their gear. For a fleeting moment, you allowed yourself the hope that perhaps they hadn't seen those tweets or had chosen to ignore them.

But as you made your way to your locker, you could feel eyes on you. Some were quick glances, laced with uncertainty or curiosity, while others held longer, more contemplative stares. No one said anything directly, but the air was thick with unspoken questions and possible conclusions. It was hard to tell.

You kept your head down, focusing on getting ready. The sound of your locker door clanging shut seemed to echo louder than usual, and as you changed into your training gear, you pondered over your next steps. Ignoring the issue didn't feel right, but neither did addressing it without a plan.

"Hey," just then, your attention was taken by the sound of a voice that you quickly recognized as Katie's, her Dublin twang thick as always. The defender's expression was hard to read as she approached, and she sat down next to you, continuing after you replied, "Morning." Your voice was small, and your throat tightened a little, Katie was one of the closer friends you'd made in your somewhat limited time at the club, and her opinion mattered to you.

"Listen, I heard about the tweets," she started, and while you braced yourself for what might come next, you couldn't help but notice her tone being somewhat gentler than you'd expected, but still straightforward. "And, I wanted to say..." she continued, and you felt your heart beat a little bit faster. But, then she stopped, if only for a few seconds, and frowned slightly, though seemingly more to herself than to you. She looked like she was thinking about something, something about you, perhaps.

"Well, I don't know what I wanted to say exactly... but I'm here if you want to talk, or if you need anything, really."

Wait.

What?

You must have had a look on your face because the Irishwoman spoke up again. "Like, if you have anything you wanna get off your chest. I'm here for you, all of the girls are." She remained gentle, but you could tell that heart-to-hearts weren't exactly Katie's style (not that this surprised you) from the way she looked a little awkward, but her sincerity remained all the same.

Breathing just the slightest bit faster, it took you another second or two before you replied, "A lot of the girls?" One of your brows lifting curiously. Was... she implying what you were beginning to think she was implying?

Did Katie know think you were gay?

"Yeah. We care about ya, dummy. And unless you really are some horrible bigot, nothing you say is gonna change that." Katie smiled at that remark and you couldn't help but reflect her, shaking your head lightly in response. "I'm not," you confirmed, your eyes connecting with Katie's. "I was just... different then... I was—" You went to continue, but cut yourself off, your breath almost hitching as you caught yourself at the last moment from finishing that sentence.

I was afraid.

You could virtually see the defender's gaze softening on you in real time and you couldn't bear the sight of it anymore, glancing away and turning your attention to your shoes. The locker room around the pair of you was beginning to fade into the backdrop, although you got the feeling that it hadn't just been Katie's eyes on you. Even as you observed the details of your trainers, you could practically feel the woman next to you's gaze wandering off every few moments to the others in the room, maybe looking for assistance, or trying to convey her unspoken suspicion.

"You were what?" You heard, and this time it wasn't Katie who spoke. It was Beth, who was standing a short distance away by her own cubby. Immediately proving that your heart-to-heart with Arsenal's number 15 hadn't been quite so exclusive, and the locker room's sudden silence ironically brought it right back to the forefront of your attention. Everyone was listening, and many of them staring as well. Was this what they had been talking about before you'd shown up? Had they been in here putting together dots you hadn't known existed? A longing gaze you hadn't suppressed or one too many comments about the eyes or legs of another woman that you'd thought would simply slip under the radar as casual observation? Were those tweets the final confirmation they needed?

Was this the supposed 'gaydar' you had heard about?

"Nothing." you retorted swiftly, shaking your head again as you reached into your locker to resume getting dressed. You hadn't really paid attention to the fact you'd stopped when Katie had come over to talk to you, but the girls didn't seem intent on letting this moment slip away, and you could see Beth approach from your peripheral vision even as you tried to focus on getting changed. You were beginning to almost feel trapped, though you were certain that the culprit behind that particular feeling was more likely to be yourself than your teammates.

"Y/N, we're your friends." Beth said, kneeling down to eye level, while Katie still sat beside you, staring into the side of your head with an expression that was unusually gentle and almost unnervingly so. You still couldn't look at her without feeling your throat close up.

"Trust me... none of us are going to react like how that silly little brain of yours thinks we might." she continued softly and with a warm smile, and now you knew. You knew that they knew.

Your head tilted slightly up to look at Beth, who was now squatted a small distance from you, hands clasped together and blue eyes looking right into your own. You could still sense the looks of the other girls on you too, only now you didn't feel that they were judging, far from it actually. Your leg bounced up and down nervously, and you didn't even have it in you to try to stop it. You felt like you wanted to cry. Why was this so hard? Even now, when it was clear that everyone in the room knew. You just couldn't say it.

Your eyes started to glisten as the first tears threatened to push their way out, and you gave Beth a small, sad smile. Your throat began to hurt in the way that only a sob—or an imminent one—could provoke.

"I think you know already." you finally managed to get out, your voice as small as your presence in that room, and Beth only nodded. You could see some of the other girls nod too, but you were distracted by the feeling of Katie's hand taking your own and clutching it safely. A breath escaped you and it was shaky, uncertain, afraid.

"Yeah, I think we do, pet." the forward replied, closing the gap between you and pulling you in for a hug, her arms finding themselves at home wrapped around your torso. It was as if she'd given you permission to cry, the tears finally beginning to flow, as you buried your head into the other woman's shoulder, quietly sobbing into the fabric of her Arsenal jacket. Katie's hand tightened around your own, and you heard the sound of cleats and shoes closing in around you. You weren't sure how you were going to deal with this new reality moving forward, this world in which people other than yourself knew of your sexuality, but at least you wouldn't be alone.

///

End Notes: Hope you liked this one, guys! I promise not all of my fics will be angsty! I'm also in the process of writing an OC for a self-contained multi-part storyline. But, with how busy I've been with uni, who knows whether I'll actually finish it or not. Thanks for reading!

#woso #awfc #woso community #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics #arsenal women #arsenal wfc #katie mccabe #beth mead #arsenal wfc x reader

508 notes · View notes