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motorsportbarbie13 · 4 months ago

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Zip Me Up?

In which you're getting ready for a night out but you need your boyfriend's help. Or do you?

Warnings: none unless you hate tooth achingly sweet fluff Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

When you heard the front door snick close, your eyes fall straight to your phone. 6:45. Shit. You were going to be late and you weren’t even dressed yet. In your defense, you had spent a few extra hours at the salon that day with Carmen who kept talking you into more and more treatments. ‘It’s a reward for getting through your first F1 season as a WAG!’ she had joked while Lily nodded along in agreement on your other side, which lead to you adding a facial on to the end of your massage Lando had booked for you today.

You were regretting it now because that door closing signaled that your boyfriend was home and you were still sat in front of vanity mirror in the skimpy black lingerie that was supposed to be a surprise for Lando after the FIA awards tonight. You knew he was still salty about losing the championship to Max by 20 points and the bits of lace and silk were supposed to help get his mind off things.

While the season had ended well, with Lando picking up a total of seven wins and McLaren securing their first constructors championship on ages, the sting of losing out to Max in the end was just a bit too much for your boyfriend to handle. You had known him for years, your brother racing the same circuits as Lando as a child, so you knew how competitive he was and how badly it hurt him to come up just short. While your brother had left the sport after he turned 16, he had joined the McLaren racing team as first an engineer before being promoted to strategist.

You had run into Lando at the McLaren Technical Center one afternoon two years back while visiting your brother, a spark that had been present when you both were younger igniting again with one single look. The rest, as they say, was history. It had been a whirlwind really, the timing of it all simply perfect.

“Babe, you almost ready? The car is going to be here in fifteen.” Lando calls from what sounds like the kitchen. He had just popped out to get bottle of whiskey to put in his flask, insisting that being half way drunk was the only way he was going to survive the awards dinner.

In the kitchen, Lando sets the bottle of whiskey down before opening the silver flask you had gotten him for his birthday in November. Engraved on the side was his monogram and a tiny little F1 car under it.

“Almost ready! Be out in five!” You shout back and Lando can’t help but chuckle. Five minutes in your time was actually closer to 15 so he knew he had time for a drink.

Lando busies himself in the kitchen while he waits, knowing he’s going to tease you about taking so long to get ready while not meaning a word of his banter. You scurry about the bedroom, for once glad he hasn’t come looking for you so you can get ready quickly without being distracted. It was Lando’s constant state: Distraction. His curls distracted you. His smile distracted you. The way he said your name distracted you. Everything about your boyfriend caused you to be utterly distracted and while you wouldn’t have it any other way, sometimes a girl just needs 10 minutes alone to focus and get her makeup on.

Minutes pass and the house is quiet, save for the clink of some ice in a glass as Lando enjoys a quick drink before you leave for the night.

“Lan?” You call and God does that do something to him. The nickname you have for him is his favorite word. Not because he likes being called Lan, although he doesn’t mind. No, he loved it because of the way his name fell off your lips like sweet slow drips of honey, sugary coated and thick.

He makes his way down the hall, knowing exactly where to find you: your dressing room. It had been your only demand when you moved in with him 3 months ago. If he got a gaming room, you deserved a dressing room. And Lando, not being one to ever say no to you, had immediately had his workout room converted to the dressing room of your dreams.

He stops once he reaches the doorway, pausing to lean against the frame to take you in. Your hair was done in loose curls, the shiny locks tumbling down over your shoulders made him forget his last name. Your black dress, shimmering under the dim lights you only used after your makeup was finished, was a long column of silk that made Lando’s throat go dry.

When you see him standing there, practically eating you alive with the feral look on his face, a slow grin spreads across your face. “Hi baby.” You coo before gathering your hair up in one hand while spinning around. “Can you zip my dress up for me?”

Truth be told, you could have probably done it yourself but you also wanted to give Lando a sneak at what was under your dress right when he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Teasing him with little glimpses of skin was one of your favorite past times. Lando knew that you could have done it yourself too, but he appreciated being needed and would never pass up the opportunity to run his fingers up your bare skin.

“Of course.” He says, crossing the room in a few strides to come stand behind you. Your perfume, a sweet and spicy dream of a fragrance, settled across his skin where it would linger all night, a constant reminder that you were his now. When you had waltzed into the MTC visiting your brother two years ago, he hadn’t recognized you at first. The moment he heard your voice though? He had known he was a goner.

His fingers deftly maneuver the zipper up towards the top of the gown, the pads of his fingers leaving a smattering of goosebumps in their wake. When his job is done and your dress is secure, Lando dips his head to drop an open mouthed kiss in the crook of your neck, a place you can often find him kissing. When he starts to drag his tongue from his favorite spot up the column of your neck, you can’t help the sigh that falls from your lips on a whisper. Here it was, the distraction.

“You look exquisite tonight.” He murmurs when his mouth reaches your ear, breath dusting along the shell of your ear.

“Thank you.” Your voice is embarrassingly breathy but Lando’s fingers digging into your hips says he’s not embarrassed one bit. He didn’t say a word about the lace that was for him, but you know he saw it. “Sorry I’m running behind. Carmen, Lily, and I took longer at the salon today than I anticipated.”

Lando spins you around, shaking his head when your gaze meets his. “It’s fine, we’re not really all that late. I’m glad you’re getting along with the other girls.”

You nodded, the corner of your mouth ticking up at the thought of your friends, also girlfriends of F1 drivers, who had really taken you under your wing this season. Being in the public eye like the WAGs tended to be was not for the faint of heart and there had been several times this season where only the girls were able to understand your struggle to adjust to life with Lando.

The two of you stand there for a moment, taking in the sight of each other. You were able to travel to most of the races so you didn’t often go too long without seeing Lando, but there was something settling about it now being winter break, all work suspended for the time being while everyone decompressed after a hard season. You had made it through, relationship stronger than ever, and the silent conversation that happens while you two reflect on how everything has changed so quickly has your heart fluttering in your chest.

Lando’s the first to break the spell, forced to drop his attention to his phone that was buzzing quietly. “That’s the car.” He says, sounding almost sad that the two of you will have to leave the comfort of your private cocoon tonight and put on your public faces for the evening.

Moments later, Lando is helping you into your jacket before twining his fingers with your own. More kisses are dropped on your cheeks and neck as you both scuttle towards the door, the hired car likely double parked in front of your building. You knew Lando would have rather stayed home tonight, not wanting to have to share you or your attention with anyone but you also knew tonight would serve as a good closing chapter on your first year together and for that, you were forever grateful.

#lando norris #f1 imagine #lando x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 #fluff #boyfriend lando #lando x you #lando norris imagine #lando norris x fem!reader #no use of y/n #be nice this is my first fic in a while #should i do a part two with a 'whats under my dress' surprise moment???

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chiacanwritesometimes · 1 month ago

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the three times you tried, and the one time it worked. (part 2)

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

ship: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 1.6k

author’s note: this is unedited, so there might be some grammatical errors. this fic dives into themes of pregnancy, miscarriage, and alcohol. please please please do not interact if these themes bother, trigger, or make you uncomfortable. all information regarding my statistics have been sourced from mayo clinic, nhs.uk and cleveland clinic. please let me know if i got anything wrong so i can update this with the most accurate information! if you have gone through something like this or similar, please reach out to support groups or hotlines. i will link some down on the notes as soon as i can!

eek! one part left! i have enjoyed writing this so far, and i might do a “what they’re up to now” when im done with this series. i hope you enjoy reading it :P

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it was hard on him as well. how do you go from being thrown seventy years into the future, from meeting the love of your life, to losing a baby with her?

her screams haunted him, almost as much as…

he tried not to think about it too much. he promised her he was starting a new life with and for her, although she encouraged him to talk about the past to better understand him and to help him work out the trauma.

he spent most of his days in the office, filling out paperwork. he called time off from work, but you got well enough to the point where he could return without fear of you hurting yourself. most nights were spent holding each other, with either one of you or both of you crying.

80 percent of miscarriages happen in the first trimester. it’s not that you weren’t fertile, but what you both didn’t account for was how his super soldier genes would affect everything, having the baby develop faster than it’s little body could handle. it was eight centimeters long, contrast to the common five centimeters. he blamed himself for it, but you assured that through no fault of his, it happened. you didn’t want to grow to resent him, as you knew deep down it truly wasn’t his fault. you buried yourself in statistics to find loops and explanations as to why, why you, why this, just…why. for women under 30, 1 in 10 pregnancies end in miscarriage. around 10-20% of pregnancies end in miscarriage. you became depressed, finding yourself as another statistic to write down, another number in a chart. he caught on to what you were doing, but didn’t know how to handle it. he mostly just held you, and whispered words of comfort into your ear.

“why did it have to be us?” you whispered softly, one night, as he spooned you.

he paused for a moment. “i don’t know.”

“if only i-“. he cut you off. “stop. you know it wasn’t your fault. we’ll try again when you’re ready, okay?”

you went out with your friends one day, a small reward you gave yourself for being so strong. you felt bad for leaving him home, but he assured you that he would be productive.

you really didn’t drink. that’s what you kept telling yourself as you ordered, and kept ordering. you really didn’t, you just didn’t know what came over you. maybe it was the fact that the drinks were cheap, or the company was good. or maybe it was the five month anniversary. you tried not to think about it much, as you didn’t want to depress your friends. your sorrows were washed away, and for the first time in a while, you felt whole. soon, you were drunk. not tipsy, but full on, shit faced drunk. your giddy smile convinced your friends to call him, and it wasn’t long before he was there to pick you up. he scooped you up with ease, and chuckled at your exaggerated affection towards him.

“you’re drunk.” he teased, as he sat you down in the passenger seat.

“and you’re not.” you teased back. he closed the door and walked over to the drivers seat. he sat down and took a deep breath. he didn’t start the car just yet, he was just looking at you.

“well i can’t get drunk, you know that. plus, im driving. wouldn’t be responsible.”

“and you’re known for always following the rules, yes yes.” you said in a mock serious tone, making him snort.

“low blow.” he responded, as he turned the key to the ignition. the hum of the engine proved to be a good melody lulling you to sleep, and your head bobbed as you tried your hardest to stay awake. his hand was on your thigh, and his thumb traced circles. it proved wonders, and you quickly fell asleep. the car ride was fifteen minutes long, and your eyes fluttered open as your body recognized the turns to your home. you stretched your arms, muscles sore from all the dancing you did with your friends. he was humming a song, one you tried to recognize.

the music started, and was i the perplexed one?

he stopped the car, and walked to your side, opening the door.

i held my breath and said, may i have the next one?

his soft voice made your ears turn red. he helped you out of the car, and scooped you bridal style. you giggled. he walked to the front door, and you unlocked it. he gently placed you down as you both entered, and he continued.

in my frightened arms-

you smiled. “polka dots and moon beams.” you said. you recognized the song, and as you took your shoes off, he beamed at you. he nodded and continued.

polka dots and moon beams, sparkled on a pug nosed dream.

he whistled the improvisation of the trombone, and took your hands as he led you down the hall to the dining room. there, a candle lit table with two plates.

“i had this planned, but i didn’t want you to not go out with your friends.” he admitted sheepishly. you gasped and smiled.

“this is so sweet.” you were slowly sobering up. your clothes felt heavy on you, and you suggested putting on pajamas. he agreed, and the both of you walked upstairs as you talked about the events of the night. he listened intently, and sat down on the bathroom counter as you took a quick shower. the warm air made your baby hairs cling to your skin, and the mirror foggy. you finished, and grabbed the nearest towel and covered yourself. you walked out of the shower, shivering slightly from the temperature difference. you walked over to where he sat, and smiled at him.

“hi.” you said softly, soaking in the intimate moment.

“hi.” he replied, equally as gentle. he cupped your jaw, and planted a small kiss on your lips. he leaned his forehead on yours, and closed his eyes.

“you smell good. new shampoo?”

you nodded.

“you’re welcome to try it.” you smiled, running your damp hand through his hair. he grabbed your wrist, and starting placing small kisses on your knuckles, your palm, your fingers.

“you’re so pretty.” he said as he sat up from the counter and towered above you. you grinned.

“you really think so?”

he nodded.

“oh yeah. everyone at work is so jealous of me.” he boasted as you snorted.

“oh, i’m sure.” you chuckled as he took your hand and twirled you and pulled you in, embracing you. he pulled you in a long kiss, holding the back of your neck and your waist. he sat you down on the counter and one thing led to another and…

you kept replaying those moments as you stared at the two lines on the second pregnancy test. you felt dread, but also joy? it was a mix of emotions. you felt scared, what if it happened again? 80 percent of miscarriages happen in the first trimester, you kept telling yourself. you just had to survive the first 12 weeks, and you’ll be fine.

you knocked on the doorway to his office, which was a huge step for you. you hadn’t entered that room since the incident. he looked up from his book.

“what’s up, birdie?” birdie. a nickname he used after catching you singing along to one of your favorite records, and one he used sparingly. that nicknamed grounded you, and gave you the strength to fess up.

you held up the test, and said nothing.

“two lines?” he asked, with a tone you could almost register as nervousness with a twinge of fear.

you nodded. he stood up to embrace you, laughing.

“two lines!” he kept repeating, kissing your neck. this made you ease up, and soon, you were laughing as well.

“okay, okay! we have to be prepared this time.” you stated. “but also, we can’t get our hopes too up, what if-“. you stopped laughing. you cleared your throat.

“no matter what happens, we’ll…be fine, right?”

he nodded. “we’ll be fine. for better or worse, remember?”

“pinky promise?” your request broke his heart. he set you down and extended his own pinky finger, hooking it with yours. he took your hand and kissed it.

“i’m yours, through it all.” he said, smiling.

you two had decided to take a small vacation, to get your mind off things. you refused any food that could possibly hurt the growth of the fetus, and tried your hardest to stay optimistic. you steered clear of baby clothes until after the first twelve weeks were over. how betrayed you would soon feel.

as you were three weeks in, you felt strange. similar to the way it felt the first time, but you thought it was just morning sickness or something.

you both had travelled to maine, to watch the ocean. you decided that fresh air was what you both needed. not only was the salt air fresh, but it was cold, very cold. you had taken a midnight stroll with him on the sand, and went to bed at three in the morning.

you woke up with pain, similar to the pain you would feel with period cramps. you sat up and googled “miscarriage symptoms” with shaky hands. this couldnt happen again. how could this happen again? your stirring caused him to wake up, and he saw what was on your phone. his heart dropped as he made eye contact with you. your face was pale, your eyes filled with grief.

“james?” you said, cautiously. his eyes sank. you only called him by that name when things were extremely serious.

“yes, my love?”

80 percent of miscarriages happen in the first trimester.

…

part 2/3. update tmr!

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perrywinkleeeee · 1 year ago

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chandler bing x reader (whose in the group)

The One with the Cookie Crumbs

Author’s Note ❥ I know I took too long before I finished this, and I apologize. I’ve been busy for the past days from school works and all. But I really hope this is what you wanted and If I didn’t fulfill your request, I apologize, I would be willing to try again.

paring(s) 𖨆♡𖨆 ⁑ chandler bing x fem!reader

Monica Geller x reader (sister)

warning(s) ᕯ none

Word count ⚘ 2.439k

“Ugh! Living with you is like being seventeen and having to share the same damn room all over again!”

Yelling was heard in apartment 20. The Gellers got into the scariest dispute in the entire building when they started arguing.

“What's so hard about eating your cookie without leaving crumbs everywhere?” The other Geller yelled back, which infuriated the other one. “Monica, I've had enough of this crap! And if I had a place to stay, I would move out!”

“Then go ahead, Y/N!” Monica snapped her head at Y/N, as if she were already kicking her out of their apartment. Y/N was taken aback by Monica’s abrupt outburst and felt a a knot in her throat. She never liked arguing with her sister. Y/N lowered her arms from her chest, her eyes wide open. The entire gang was gathered outside their apartment door, listening in on the heated argument that had been going on for 10 minutes. Just as Ross have had enough of all the yelling, when the apartment fell silent, he went barging through the door, knowing his sisters so well that it was best for them to separate for the time being. Whenever they get into a huge fight, it would take days, weeks, or even months for them to come to terms and be able to talk to each other again. “Y/N, it's fine. Go to your room.” Ross accompanied her to her room before turning back to Monica, whose face was now flushed from anger. Y/N strained her eyes and replied, “Fine.” through gritting her teeth, before walking inside her room.

“Again, Mon. Really?” Ross had his hands on his hips before deciding to approach his sister, whom he believed was constantly overreacting to the smallest details and mistakes Y/N causes. “Why can’t you two get along?” The frustrated eldest couldn't stop his sisters from constantly squabbling. “Hello? I handle the majority of the cleaning here.” Monica scoffed, rolling her eyes at Ross.

“Does everything have to be clean for you?” Ross made it obvious that he doesn’t want them to argue all the time, let alone have them broken up because of the tiniest mistakes. “Do you not know me? I want everything to be neat and ordered, yet she screws everything up.”

Monica rolled her eyes and crossed her arms in front of her chest as Ross said, “I think you two should stay away from each other for a while.” She doesn’t want to be separated from her sister, but the continual arguments is killing all of them. “Yeah, right. How are we supposed to do that?” Monica mockedly stuck her tongue out and turned away from Ross.

“I’ll go.” Y/N suddenly popped out of her room, a bag across her shoulder, and another in hand. With a concerned look on her face, Monica turned her body toward her just to see how serious she was. “I’m moving out.”

“What?” Monica, who genuinely doesn't want her sister to move out, kept a worried tone but tries her best not to break character. “You said I should go ahead, then I’m moving out.”

“But where will you go?” Ross intervened in the middle before Y/N began to walk towards the door. “Anywhere but here.” She looked at the two for a minute, but tears started to blur her eyes. “Y/N, I didn’t mean for you to move out. All I'm saying is that you two should know how to get along when it comes to— you could stay with me for a little while, it’s like you’re taking a cool off of each other. But you don’t want to go apartment hunting again, right?” Even if Ross did his best to come up with something that would entice Y/N to stay, it seems like she had enough of Monica acting in her typical manner.

The door swung open as a few footsteps approached, and without hesitation, Chandler Bing, the one and only sarcastic friend offered, “I’ll take her.” Looking inside the apartment like a lost puppy. “What?” Ross and Monica exclaimed in unison. “That settles it then.” Y/N exited the apartment without saying anything, walking past Chandler to open the door to the other apartment in front of theirs. She only ever did that to see how her sister was going to react. And she was pretty sure she saw how upset she was.

Chandler gazed at Ross and Monica before quietly closing the door. “Are you really gonna take her in?” Joey asked in confusion. “Well, if they’re really in bad terms right now… I think it’s best if she stays with us?” Chandler shrugged his shoulders, unsure now whether Joey approved or not. “It’s not okay with you, is it?”

“No, no. I’m entirely fine with it. But we only have two bedrooms in there. Where’s she gonna sleep?” Joey raised his eyebrows and asked. Chandler's thoughts told him he needed to talk to Y/N first before anything else.

Before Joey and Chandler entered apartment 19, there was a loud thump, that alerted them, and when they did, Joey and Chandler hurried in to find Y/N on the floor, bawling her eyes out.

Chandler came over to sit with her on the floor to try and comfort her in any ways he can. “I just can’t stand how she bosses me around. But she’s still my sister. And I don’t want to move out of the apartment.” Her bags were flung on the ground, having to consider what she would do now that she had fled Monica’s apartment. “Maybe I just need time from all of the screaming.”

Chandler enveloped her in his arms and looked at Joey, who was standing in front of them. “That’s okay. You can stay here for as long as you need to.” Chandler reassures her quietly before pointing for Joey to retrieve the box of tissues from the tabletop. “It’s just so stupid to fight over the simplest things!”

“You’re gonna be fine. Chandler chuckled. “I could just sleep in the barcalounger.” Y/N withdrew her grip from him and finally raised her puffy eyes to gaze at him. “What? No, no. I don’t want to kick you out of your own room. You know, I could just stay at Ross’ apartment.”

Ross entered the apartment at that very moment, searching for Y/N. When Ross noticed them lying on the ground, he glanced confusedly at Chandler. “Hey, I talked to Monica. She’s said that you should just come back.” Ross announced which caused Y/N to roll her eyes. “I’m staying here. That’s final.” Ignoring the reactions of the other three men, she gathered her belongings back and entered inside Chandler's room.

“Well, guess she’s staying in my room.”

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° • ☆ .　 .

“Come on, you gotta talk to her.”

Ross had been begging Monica and Y/N for weeks, but it was difficult to get them to communicate. When Y/N eventually gave up and said, "Okay," Ross's eyes lit up. "Next week." Y/N continued to sip her coffee while reclining comfortably on the couch. "C'mon, Y/N. How are you going to make up?"

“I don't know, ask her.”

Chandler sat down next to Y/N as soon as he entered Central Perk. “Besides, Chandler is taking good care of me.” She turned to face Chandler and placed her head on his shoulder. “What will it take for you to forgive her?” Ross was down on one knee, begging Y/N to forgive their sister. “If she was the one asking me right now maybe I would have forgiven her. So stop apologizing for her, Ross. Nothing’s gonna change.”

“What’s not gonna change?” The three of them looked over at Monica, who had just walked into the coffee shop. Y/N grinned as she glanced at Chandler and then at her watch. “Oh, would you look at that! It’s time to go to work.” Y/N gave a mocking smirk before getting up from the couch. “Y/N, you're unemployed.” Ross stated the obvious.

“Working doesn't require having a job.” She grabbed her purse and went out of the coffee shop, knowing Monica was there. Although she didn't want to ignore her sister, but she was too upset to even look at Monica.

“Hey.” Chandler suddenly wrapped an arm around her shoulder, following her outside. “Hey,” she responded as she peered out into the streets of New York. “Do you wanna go back and order pizza? Hang out or something.” Chandler suggested, fiddling with his sleeves. “That’s a great idea right there,” Y/N said, pointing at his head as she dashed away, Chandler by her side.

Back in the apartment, Y/N and Chandler relaxed on the barcalounger with the lights off and the television on while Joey was not around, because of how Joey doesn’t want to share his barcalounger with anyone. They were laughing and eating together, enjoying one other's company. Y/N never looked for Chandler's presence; she was content with being friends and knowing Chandler as her brother's college roommate and best friend. Although now she learned to miss his presence and appreciates how he’ll try to cheer her up the best he could. She thought of when she could just break the partition that was keeping them apart after developing unexpected feelings for him.

Y/N had been staying with Chandler and Joey for about a month because of how her and Monica were still mad at each other. But she thought that maybe she’ll stay in apartment 19 permanently. "Can I ask you a question that will hopefully not make you uncomfortable?" Chandler tossed a chip into his mouth as he turned to face Y/N in the barcalounger. "Yeah, okay." Y/N got the remote, turned down the television so she could hear Chandler. "Are you planning to move out if you and Monica were to make up?” Chandler gazed down at his palm, waiting for her response. "I'm not sure. Well, I do know, and my answer is, no. But if you want me to move out then, so be it.”

"No, no. That's the thing. I don't want you to leave." Y/N, surprised and confused, gave him an uncertain smile. "Really? Why?"

“You know, I love having you here. We've never really had the opportunity to spend time together like this. You’re fun, and we have similar interests." It was as if he could read her mind, assuming that she would be happy to stay. Chandler swallowed a lump in his throat and turned his entire body towards her. “I don’t know, if this is gonna mess up everything we have right now, I only have one shot at this but… I genuinely like you, Y/N. As in, above and above friends. Sometimes I just want to tell you that so bad, maybe not have to put a pillow barrier between us on the bed. I don’t know, I’m sorry. Maybe I should just stop.” Chandler's smile never faded; instead, he avoided eye contact and slumped into the barcalounger. He feared he had made Y/N uncomfortable, who had been unable to speak up until now, she stood up and walked in front of Chandler and smile down at him.

She climbed on top of the barcalounger he was sitting on only to grip his face and close the distance between them. For Chandler, it was a miracle. And this was the moment they had been waiting for. "I would love to stay here with you, Chandler Bing." She took a time to stare at his gorgeous face before closing the gap once again.

“Ahem…”

Chandler choked on his own saliva when he noticed a figure next to them. “What in the world?” Ross exclaimed, causing Y/N to scurry off of Chandler's lap. Monica appeared from behind Ross with a plate of cookies. "Someone's here to talk to you."

“Hi, can we talk?” Monica asked, extending the plate of cookies to Y/N. "Only if Chandler and I can step outside to talk." Ross shot him a death gaze as he led Chandler outside.

Monica set the meal on the table while Y/N settled down. "Okay, so…"

“I understand that you’re upset. And I don’t know if you’re willing to come back to our apartment. But I wanna say I’m sorry. I’m sorry that’s I’m such a pain in the butt whenever you make tiny mistakes and I hated the way I treated you when you make little mistakes. I really didn't like the way I handled it. I'm sorry I screamed at you or even threw you out of the apartment. And I realized that it’s not worth losing a sister because of my obsession with everything being spotless. So, I just want everything to go back as it was. Can you forgive me?” Monica brought Y/N a glass of milk that she magically snatched from thin air.

"Thanks for the freshly baked cookies, Mon." But I don't really need this to forgive you. I forgive you since you have apologized. And I'm sorry, too. I understand that I'm a little—no, really—messy, but I still love you. So I don't want to lose you over cookie crumbs." Y/N put the milkglass down and put her hands together. "You do want to go back, right?” Monica hesitantly asked.

“Yeah, well. If you want me to.”

“I kinda have a visitor.”

“Who?”

“Rachel, Rachel Green?”

“Rachel?!”

“She took over your room.”

Y/N heaved a sigh and smiled. "Well, that's okay. "I'll stay here with Chandler." She stood up from the barcalounger and peered toward the door. "I'll be fine here." The door opened, revealing Ross and Chandler. "Alright, then, I'll see you." Monica and Ross proceeded to the door. "See you, Ross." Y/N waved to him. "Don't!" Ross gestured and shut the door, leaving Y/N and Chandler alone again. "You and Monica made up. But I guess Ross isn't too happy." Chandler wrapped his arms around her and kissed her on the cheek. "He'll get used to it." Y/N moved to face him and kissed his lips. "So, are you going back?"

"No, I'll stay here with you. Without the pillows between." As she clutched onto his neck, the scent of his perfume drew her into his embrace. "Is Monica going to be okay now that the other room is empty?"

"Yeah, someone took over."

"Who?"

"Rachel…"

Chandler looked at her confused before recognizing who she was talking about.

"Rachel Green?!”

#chandler bing x reader #chandler bing #monica geller x reader #monica geller #ross geller #friends #friends x reader #friends to lovers

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munson-blurbs · 2 years ago

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Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Summary: Grandma's funeral brings out a side of Ms. Sweetheart that Eddie hasn't ever seen, leaving the two of them questioning everything they've built up together.

Warnings: funeral service (I tried to keep it as neutral as possible so it could apply to any religion), mentions of cause of Grandma's death, failed attempt at sex, pretty much all angst sorry

WC: 5.1k

Chapter 10/20

Divider credit to @saradika Harris's note credit to @girlwiththerubyslippers

Eddie can’t remember the last time he went to a funeral. It might’ve been for one of Wayne’s friends, or a distant great-aunt twice removed. He doesn’t even own a proper suit for such an occasion; everything he’s wearing actually belongs to Wayne. He smooths down the creases in his black slacks; the material of anything other than worn denim is foreign against his legs. The elbows of his coat jacket are patched, and he slides his palms over them in embarrassment.

He takes a seat in one of the back rows, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible while the other mourners file in. There’s a pit growing in his stomach as his gaze swoops to the coffin resting at the front of the room. The realization that Grandma was inside was almost too much for him to handle, and he’d only met her a month ago. He hadn’t known her when she was…herself, but he saw glimpses of her now and again. The last time he was over for a Wednesday night dinner, she rested her head on his shoulder as though she’d done it a million times. You’d mouthed sorry, but Eddie had simply smiled and let Grandma stay there as long as she wanted. If he was being honest, he felt special, knowing that she was comfortable with him.

Eddie’s eyes are only drawn from the casket when he sees you walk among your family. He immediately takes note of your face, normally soft and vibrant, now stoic and emotionless. It’s a sharp contrast to your relatives, who wear their grief through bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks. The hymn playing in the background fades out as a man speaks up at the podium.

Eddie’s barely listening, keeping his attention on you. He watches your mouth move as you recite the prayers along with the rest of your family, though he’s only half-listening to them. He’s never been one for organized religion, but he echoes the closing statement when everyone else does.

That’s when you stand up, smoothing down your dress at the back of your thighs, and walk towards the front of the room. You’re clutching a piece of paper in your hand, which Eddie notices is slightly trembling. He locks eyes with you, dragging his teeth along his bottom lip and offers the smallest of encouraging smiles. You acknowledge it with a tiny nod in his direction before taking a deep breath and beginning the eulogy.

“Um, h-hi.,” you start, stumbling over your words awkwardly. You clear your throat and try again. “Thank you all for coming to honor and remember Grandma. It’s evident that she meant a lot to so many people.

“When I was writing this eulogy, I kept thinking about who she was as a person.” You don’t let your gaze drift from Eddie’s, and you could swear that he’s the only force keeping you from crumbling to the ground in a heap of grief. “For a lot of us, we wonder what ‘big thing’ will define our lives. The occasion that people will remember us by, you know? But with Grandma, there wasn’t one ‘big thing.’ Her life was a series of little kindnesses that she made sure to sprinkle into her everyday life. Like, when I was a kid, my dad broke his ankle. My mom couldn’t leave me home alone, so Grandma drove him to and from the hospital and stayed with him while he waited. She always took care of us.

“One of my favorite memories is how she would bring me a bouquet of flowers after every dance recital I was in. She’d be waiting for me by the stage door with a big smile on her face, telling me what a great job I did, even if I totally messed up…she was the best. All she wanted was for the people she loved to be happy.

“And that’s what I associate with Grandma—love. How much I loved her, and how much she loved us. Just a few weeks ago, she was sharing Oreos with the kid I tutor, and it reminded me of how she used to be with me.” At that line, Eddie feels his lip quiver, tears dampening his lashes, and he ducks his head to keep you from seeing him break. This time, it’s more for your sake than his, since you’re leaning on him to remain upright. “I encourage all of you to find the little kindnesses in life, and to be the kindness in someone’s day.

“Grandma, you are already so missed. I hope you’re seeing the values you instilled in each of us. Rest easy. We’ll take it from here.” The only sounds in the entire room are the heels of your shoes clacking on the floor and sniffling from nearly everyone else in the congregation. You take your seat quietly, bowing your head as though trying to hide.

The rest of the service is a blur of hymns and prayers; nothing, Eddie notes, nearly as moving as the eulogy you gave. He barely notices when the people around him start moving, keeping a watchful eye on you. You’re trying to blend in amongst your black-clad relatives, but Eddie has no problem finding you. He cranes his neck just in time to see your family make a right through the doors, while you pivot left.

Instinctively, his hands tuck into his pants pocket as he fumbles for his cigarettes and lighter. He has no idea what to say to you, no idea where to even begin. He needs a smoke or three to clear his head before he sees you and stammers out some half-witted acknowledgment of your loss. There’s no time for that; however, because as soon as he steps outside, he sees you sitting on the steps. It’s freezing outside, but your arms are bare, and Eddie can see the prickle of goosebumps lining your skin.

“What are you doing out here by yourself?” he asks, drawing your attention as he takes a seat next to you. He shrugs off his own jacket, placing it over your shoulders without a second thought.

You offer him a sad smile, tugging the coat so it covers more of you. You didn’t realize how cold you were until you felt the contrast of his body heat. “Trying to avoid my family,” you admit, placing your hand over Eddie’s. “Could you take me home? I got a ride here from my uncle, but I really don’t want to go out to eat with everyone.” They’re probably arguing over where to get lunch right now, acting as though their matriarch isn’t about to be lowered into the ground.

“You sure?” Eddie’s eyebrows pinch together in concern. “I mean, I don’t mind, but I don’t want to take you away from them or anything.” He can picture the sneers he’ll receive, a pit forming in his stomach.

You remain unfazed to the conundrum he faces. “Trust me, you’d be doing me a favor. I can’t…” your voice catches, so you restart your sentence. “I can’t sit there while everyone’s smiling and laughing. That’s what happens when an old, sick person dies; people don’t even try to hide their relief. I need…I need to be alone.” You tuck your lips inside your mouth, attempting to bury your feelings.

Eddie nods, reaching over to take his keys out of the jacket you’re now wearing. “Yeah, no, I get it. We can get outta here.” He stands up, takes your hand in his to help you to your feet, and leads you to the car as inconspicuous as possible. The last thing either of you need is to be confronted by one of your relatives.

The two of you sit in the car quietly, without even the radio on. Eddie can’t remember the last time he’s had a silent car ride; he either has music playing, Harris yammering his ear off, or a combination of both. He keeps his hands at ten and two, internally debating whether or not to rest one on your knee. It wouldn’t be a sexual thing, not even close, but he doesn’t want you to get the wrong idea. His grip remains steady, the hum of the engine is the only sound.

You take this time to study him, taking in the crow’s feet that line the edges of his eyes, the tiny patch of stubble that he’d missed while shaving, the slight dimple in his chin. You try and turn before he can catch you, and though your efforts are fruitless, he doesn’t quite call you out on it. “Y’good?”

“Y-Yeah,” you stutter, smoothing a part of your dress that isn’t wrinkled. “Could you come inside for a little while? I thought I wanted to be by myself, but I really want you to stay.”

You really want him to stay. Not just that you need company, but you want him specifically. The notion sets all of Eddie’s nerve endings alight. “‘Course,” he replies, perhaps a bit too casually to cover up his excitement over the realization that he brings you some form of comfort.

When he pulls into the apartment complex’s parking lot and shuts off the ignition, he takes the opportunity to hold your hand again. It’s so much different than when he held it a few days earlier on your date, when there was an atmosphere of joy and hope. Now it’s like he’s pulling you along, like his lead is what has you placing one heel-clad foot in front of the other.

You unlock the door, accidentally leaving the key within its latch, and Eddie quietly removes it and places it on the table. His fingers ghost your biceps to remove your–his–coat from your body, but you just pull it on farther like a safety blanket.

“Y’want coffee? ‘M gonna put on a pot,” you offer quietly, already heading over to the kitchen. You scoop out a serving of coffee grounds for you, inhaling the hazelnut scent before dumping it into the basket, glancing over at him for his response.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” he nods, and you put another scoop in before filling the carafe with tap water. With a flick of the power button, the Black + Decker rumbles and kicks on, and the drip drip drip of coffee fills the room.

You grab two mugs from the cupboard and place them on the counter. “How’d you even find out about the funeral?”

Eddie walks over, though he feels as though he can’t get close enough. He just wants to hold you tight and never let go, but you’ve put up some sort of barrier that he can’t quite interpret. “Oh, um, I asked Byers. I hope you don’t mind–I tried calling you, but it said the line was disconnected.”

Your cheeks burn. “That was Grandma.” Eddie looks confused–rightfully so–and you elaborate. “The morning that she…she got annoyed with the phone ringing, so when I wasn’t looking, she took the scissors and cut the wire.”

Eddie’s jaw drops in disbelief. “You’re joking.”

“I wish I was. I left the house for a few minutes to get a new phone, and when I came back, she’d fallen asleep and…” you swallow thickly, rummaging through the refrigerator for the tiny carton of half-and-half, “…and she never woke up. First call I made with the new phone was to 9-1-1, but it was too late.” Too late. That’s what the EMTs told you: I’m sorry, but it’s too late.

“Oh, Sweetheart. My sweet girl…” Eddie’s heart lurches, and he instinctively reaches out to you. One hand lays between your shoulder blades while the other rubs up and down your spine. He’s careful not to let it drop too low, never going past the small of your back. Though you’re pressed flush to his chest, there’s still a strange disconnect between you.

Despite every urge you have to cling to him, you pull away and shove a teaspoon into the sugar bowl, sliding it towards him on the counter. “S’okay. I mean, it’s not, but…they said she’d had a heart attack. If I didn’t get the phone, I wouldn’t have been able to call for an ambulance anyway.” The dripping of the coffee maker slows as it finishes brewing. “Only thing I could do is go back in time and stop her from cutting the wires, and Melvald’s was all outta time machines,” you joke, but it falls flat.

Eddie frowns, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans against the countertop. “You don’t have to do this, y’know.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Pretend like you’re alright,” he explains, voice hardly louder than a whisper. He tucks a lock of hair behind his ear.

You feel an anger rising within you, though you’re unable to pinpoint its origin. “I am alright,” you insist through gritted teeth.

Eddie shakes his head, peering at you through his impossibly long eyelashes. “It’s okay to be sad–”

“Don’t you get it, Eddie?” You cut him off with a snap, slamming the coffee pot down so harshly that it almost cracks. “I’m not sad. I’m not relieved. I’m not anything. My grandma just died, and I don’t feel a goddamn thing! It’s like I’m some kind of monster.”

“Hey, hey, c’mere.” He hugs you again, holds you even tighter than before as he kisses the top of your head. “You’re not a monster, ‘kay? I promise you.”

You look up at him, not quite believing his words, but you press your lips to his. He kisses you back gently; timidly even, but you deepen it and graze his tongue with your own. Your left hand weaves its way through his messy curls and your right fumbles with his belt buckle, but you’re unable to unhook the clasp before he steps back.

“What’re you–” His eyes widen and he puts his hands up to avoid touching you, clearly confused by your behavior. If you had the capacity to be honest with yourself, you’d admit that you’re not sure why you’re doing this, either.

“Please, Eddie,” you beg, trying to reconnect your lips with his, but he just pulls away again. “Please, I…I need this. I need you.”

“If we sleep together for the first time right now, while you’re like this, you’ll regret it,” he says.

You don’t deny the accusation; instead, you double down on it. “Okay, so I’ll regret it! I’ll feel regret, but at least I’ll feel something!” Your trembling fingers brush against his shirt, trying to grab onto it and bring his body to you, but he turns with a scoff.

“You’d really be okay with that?” There’s unmistakeable anger in his tone, but it’s laced with something more than that; something that sounds more like hurt. “Regretting our first time together?”

“Didn’t we almost fuck on your couch the night we met? You didn’t even know my last name. You barely knew my first name.” Your words are biting, thick with malice. “When did you become so averse to meaningless sex?”

“Meaningless?” Eddie balks, digging his fingernails into his palms until they leave crescent-shaped marks. His lips contort into a perplexed grimace as he formulates a response. “I, um, I gotta go. I’ll call you–”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that line before, and I’m not falling for it again.” You can’t stop the words before they’re tumbling from your mouth, and you can’t take them back. “Shit, Eddie–”

“Just—don’t say anything else, ‘kay? I’m leaving.” He turns around, digging into his back pocket. “This is for you. From me and Harris.” He tosses a piece of notebook paper, folded into fourths, onto the end table and closes the door with a slam.

You stand there, dumbfounded at what just occurred–mostly at your own actions. When you move towards the paper, you realize that you’re still wearing Eddie’s suit jacket, and you yank it off and throw it to the ground, leaving it in a heap. You open the note and read, vision blurred from the tears threatening to spill over.

The innocent kindness of a little boy is all it takes for you to break down and cry, muffling your sobs in your palms though there isn’t anyone around to hear them. Grandma was gone. You’d chased Eddie away with the same vitriol he’d spewed at you that day at the record store. You’re really, truly alone.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you chant to no one in particular. You’re sorry to Grandma, for leaving her home alone. You could’ve asked Jess to run out and get a new phone, but you’d needed a break from Grandma’s anger that was always directed towards you. That morning, after you’d discovered the cut phone line, there had been another argument over taking her medication, and she yelled “I HATE YOU!” at the top of her lungs. Then she sat at the table and ate a bowl of cereal like nothing had happened. Instead of taking a deep breath and brushing it off, you’d grabbed your keys and headed to RadioShack. You could’ve driven there, it would’ve made the trip much faster, but you’d decided to walk. The fresh air would do you good, you told yourself, pushing away the full truth of the matter: you’d desperately needed to be away from Grandma. When you got back, she was laying on the couch, and you would’ve sworn she was only sleeping…

You’re sorry to Eddie. Sorry that he’d wasted his time with someone who resorted to dredging up the past as soon as she felt an ounce of anger and rejection. Someone who insisted that he could trust her and then promptly shattered that rapport once he’d let his guard down.

And for a split second, you allow yourself to feel sorry for you. Sorry that you couldn’t even grieve properly without feeling like you didn’t deserve it, because if you were home, Grandma might still be alive.

You look down at the card one more time, choking out a laugh through your tears at Harris’s offer to share his grandpa. It dawns on you that you’ll either have to stop tutoring him or continue to see Eddie on a weekly basis. Everyone who comes in contact with me gets entangled in my problems, you note miserably. Eddie’s finally getting his life together and I’m fucking it all up. He deserves better than me.

Maybe it’s a good idea to leave Hawkins and go back home, at least for the holidays. You’re not sure what type of celebrations the family will muster up, but it’s better than being alone with your thoughts. And if you never return, that might be best for everybody.

The bell above the drugstore door chimes as Eddie pushes his way in. He smoked out his remaining cigarettes on the drive over, and he’s desperate for another pack. He makes a beeline for the back wall, plucking his usual Camels from the display. “Perfect,” he mutters, though his lungs would certainly disagree.

As he shuffles towards the cashier, he spots a familiar face in one of the aisles. His lurking cowardice screams at him to run away, but he shoves it deep down and talks anyway. “H-Hey, man. How’s it going?”

Jeff turns around, first bewildered at who’s speaking to him, then tensing up when he sees Eddie standing before him. “Can’t complain. Just getting some of these prenatal vitamin things for Viv,” he replies tersely, shaking the bottle to emphasize his statement.

There’s an awkward silence before Eddie speaks again. “Look, um, I’m really sorry about what happened at our last show.” He rubs the back of his neck and winces at the memory. “What I said, what I didn’t say…you’re gonna be a great dad, dude. Like, the best. I was just jealous, but that’s not an excuse to be an asshole.”

“Jealous?” Jeff cocks an eyebrow incredulously, willing Eddie to continue.

“Yeah,” Eddie nods, shamefully averting his gaze. “You’re bringing a kid into a stable household, and I couldn’t do that for Harris. I don’t regret having him, of course, but I’ll always feel guilty about the shitshow he was born into.” He taps the pack of cigarettes on his palm, biting his lower lip to shut himself up. “Anyway, I gotta get home—”

“Eddie Munson?” He turns around to see a young woman standing behind him. Her low-cut top shows off the top of her breasts, cleavage pushed up by a bra, and her jeans hug every curve. She purses her pink-glossed lips together in a flirtatious smile.

“Y-Yeah?”

“I’m Lisa.” She says this like Eddie should already know this, and he’s embarrassed to admit to himself that he can’t place the name or face. “We hooked up last summer at the Hideout? In the men’s room?” Lisa lowers her voice seductively to whisper that detail. “I haven’t seen you there in a while.”

“Oh, yeah.” There have been multiple men’s room hook-ups, but he’s not about to play detective to figure out exactly who she is, so he plays along. “The band’s been on a bit of a…hiatus, I guess.” From his peripheral vision, he can see Jeff ducking his head, and his cheeks burn with the truth.

Lisa juts out her lower lip in an exaggerated pout, though Eddie knows it’s all for show. “That’s too bad.” She lets her hand rest on his chest, leaning into him and twirling a strand of his hair around a polished fingernail. “If you’re not busy tonight, I’d love to have you over for drinks and…dessert? Recreate that night at the bar, minus the urinal?”

Eddie moves her arms from his vicinity, putting a necessary space between them. “Um, n-nah. No thanks,” he clarifies. “I’m, uh, kinda involved with someone, so…”

She remains undaunted, a small chuckle escaping her throat. “I can keep a secret. She doesn’t have to know.” She takes another step forward to close the gap, and he’s so goddamn tempted, but he shakes it off. He doesn’t have a clue what’s going to happen between you and him, but he knows he’s not going to sabotage any potential relationship.

“Well, I’ll know,” he retorts, “and I’ll feel like shit about it.”

Lisa rolls her eyes. “Whatever. Your loss.” She pivots on one heel and mumbles something under her breath that Eddie doesn’t even bother to interpret.

Jeff looks at Eddie with an amused grin as he shifts his weight from one side to the other. “So, you’re involved with someone?” He knows from what Jess has told him that Eddie went on a date with you a few days ago, but he couldn’t gauge the seriousness of the situation.

“I think so. At least, I was, until about fifteen minutes ago.” He relents and fills Jeff in about everything that happened, from your conversation over steaming coffee mugs, to the amazing kiss you’d shared as snowflakes collected on your eyelashes, to the unexpected confrontation after Grandma’s funeral today.

Jeff sighs, but it’s one of sympathy, not exasperation. “You did the right thing,” he says finally.

“I don’t think anyone’s ever said that to me.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jeff laughs, punching him playfully on the arm. “I’m serious. And you did the right thing just now, too, with that groupie.” He clears his throat. “Viv’s baby shower is in a couple weeks. Ladies only, y’know, but I could use some help loading all the gifts into the car. And we could grab some lunch beforehand, if you want.”

Eddie nods. “Yeah, that would be great. Might have to let Harris tag along, if that’s all right.” He doesn’t want to keep asking Wayne to babysit, no matter how much the old man insists that he doesn’t mind.

“Of course. You know that little man is always welcome.” Jeff says, walking towards the register. “I’ll call you with the details.”

Eddie hesitates, letting his friend pass him by a few paces before he calls out. “Jeff?”

“Yeah?”

“What do I do about…” Eddie trails off, unwilling to finish his sentence. He feels absolutely ridiculous having this conversation in the middle of the drugstore, but he’s desperate not to fuck this up further.

Jeff scratches at his stubble with his free hand, contemplating the options as only someone who’s been in a long-term relationship and hasn’t had to navigate the nuances of a fresh relationship in ages can. “Give her some time; a few days, at least. She’s going through a lot. She needs her space, y’know, to figure things out.”

It’s not the answer Eddie was hoping for; patience has never been his forte. He wishes that Jeff would have told him to chase after you, to go get the girl and make sure she knows how much she means to him. But he knows that his friend is right, and he acknowledges his response with a small smile. “Thanks, man.”

“See ya around, Ed.”

Eddie unlocks his apartment door, new pack of cigarettes in one hand and a pint of Ben & Jerry’s tucked under the other arm. He doesn’t usually splurge on ice cream, but every romantic comedy cliche has instructed him that it’s the perfect remedy for heartbreak. If that’s even what this is, he thinks, but he knows it’s true. After doing everything in his power to prevent it, he’d allowed you to break his heart. And as he shoves a spoon into the container of Devil’s Food Chocolate, it dawns on him that he’d do it all again.

He’d come to your rescue and pick the lock of Grandma’s bedroom door. He’d sit around the table and eat pizza with you, Harris, and Grandma every Wednesday night. He’d drive to your house with store-brand cookies and watch cheesy Thanksgiving movies with you just to see the smile on your face. He’d take you out for coffee and kiss you in the snow a thousand times over. And he’d go to Grandma’s funeral and drive you home and turn down your offer for sex and break his own fucking heart again and again if it meant protecting you.

He shimmies out of his starchy dress pants and unbuttons his shirt, leaving himself in just a white undershirt and his boxers as he sinks deeper into the sofa. He reaches over for the remote–now that he works when Harris is in school, he rarely has time to watch something that he actually enjoys–and notices the phone’s red flashing light indicating that he has a new voicemail.

He presses play with a clumsy finger on the button, expecting Wayne’s gruff voice or a reminder for an overdue bill. When he hears that it’s you, he sits up straight, nearly dropping his ice cream.

“Hi, Eddie. It’s me. I’m so sorry for what happened earlier. I’m sure you’re probably mad, but I just want you to know…it wouldn’t have been meaningless. It wasn’t meaningless the night we met when it was supposed to be meaningless.” You take a deep breath. “I’m going back home for the holidays. Um, I’m not sure when…if…I’m coming back, but before I leave, I had to apologize for what I said. You’re a great guy, Eddie. I hope you know that. Have, um, have a nice holiday. Okay, bye.”

Eddie remains still, a loud silence enveloping the room once the machine relays that he’s reached the end of new messages. He’s dissecting every word you’d uttered, replaying them over and over.

It wasn’t meaningless the night we met when it was supposed to be meaningless.

So you’d felt it, too; that spark much stronger than the usual lust that overcomes him during hookups. And while he’d tried to convince himself that he’d only asked you to cuddle, had you stay over out of post-sex, post-show delirium, he can’t deny the truth any longer.

He’d asked because he felt comfortable around you, like he could hold you forever and whisper secrets that scare him to even admit to himself. Maybe it was because you’d seen Harris’s car seat that night and hadn’t run for the hills, or maybe it was the way you’d kissed him like he was worth savoring. And the morning after, when he’d all but chased you out of the apartment…Christ, you didn’t deserve that.

I’m not sure when…if…I’m coming back.

The ‘when’ he could handle, but that ‘if’ was a weight on his chest. He questions his actions for a moment–should he have slept with you? Showed you how wanted and cherished and safe you were with him? Given your mind a chance to wander from the grief choking it? But Jeff said he had done the right thing, and considering the man was engaged with a baby on the way, Eddie figured he had to know something about women.

You’re a great guy, Eddie. I hope you know that.

Is he? He’s certainly a better man than when you’d first met him, but is he actually a great guy? He’d bought you coffee and didn’t fuck you when you were too vulnerable to truly consent–is that what constitutes greatness, or is he just a step above a piece of shit?

And, of course, part of him is angry. Not only because you were so easily willing to use him–although that realization definitely stings–but mostly because you’d thought he’d want to. After everything you two had been through, did you truly believe that he’d be unbothered? That he’d throw away all of that progress just to get his dick wet? Is that how little you think of him? Eddie doesn’t want the answer.

The ice cream is melting, so he forgoes the spoon and just takes a swig from the pint. He licks the chocolatey residue from his lips before standing up to put the carton in the freezer. Tacked onto the refrigerator is Harris’s picture from Halloween where Eddie and Ms. Sweetheart are holding hands.

He plucks it from under the magnet, staring at it intently. The memory of his son and his uncle asking him about you, that pretty like a princess remark, the unfurling realization that he felt things for you that he’d thought he was incapable of feeling. He never should have taken their ribbings, inadvertently getting his hopes up that there was something there worth pursuing.

Without thinking, Eddie crumples the paper in his fist, crushing the family portrait into a ball. “Shit,” he mutters, placing it on the table and smoothing it out as best as he can. His hands glide over the drawing, rubbing over every crease until it looks good as new and Harris will be none the wiser.

But Eddie knows what’s been destroyed. What he doesn’t know is whether or not it can be smoothed out.

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dressed2k1ll · 1 year ago

Text

I’m giving up on men because

1. The fact that they all assume they’re experts in everything

2. The fact that they all assume they’re smarter than me immediately

3. The fact that they allow and use slurs to divide women like Karen, Pick Me, Terf, The Main Character, SWERF, prude, slut bitch

4. The only slur they have is incel which relies on the premise that they’re entitled to sex

5. Moms are expected to be perfect and if she makes a mistake she’s a bad mom. Dads are considered perfect despite their mistakes and even being a poor parent

6. They think sex is a service

7. They cannot have a magic sexual moral barrier that divides children from teens from women. I refuse to believe it. And the media sexualizes kids and infantilizes female sexuality… so what now?

8. That porn is so normalized and teen is a category and yet we can’t check a man’s porn viewing history before allowing them to coach, treat, or be alone with vulnerable people.

9. That some will and can and do have sex with corpses. That deadness is sexualized in fashion photography as arousing

10. That choking has become normalized in porn

11. That we know porn becomes increasingly more extreme through algorithm and capitalism

12. That they hide behind plausible deniability and think we are too stupid to see it - like the devils advocate position

13. That they convince themselves their plausible deniability is a moral standard

14. That even the normal married ones with little girls for kids are shitty

15. That they think their pleasure overrides the civil rights of a person

16. That they believe consent magically changes abuse into kink

17. That they don’t even know what misogyny is

18. That they think misandry is somehow comparable

19. That they think my hurting their feelings or making them feel uncomfortable is a violent act. That pointing out violence makes me the violent one.

20. That they defend Johnny Depp

21. That they’re afraid of false accusations

22. That they defend the reputations of men they haven’t met more than the reality of the women who report them lmao

23. They don’t take care of themselves physically

24. They can choose to be civilized but use animal evo psychology to defend subhuman actions

25. They believe that women’s sexuality is an economy for them

26. They created religion to usurp creative power from women

27. They convinced other men that humans came from a man’s rib, from a patriarchal god, when literally no man has NOT come through and from a woman.

28. They have sexualized every aspect of women’s existence including pain and crying

29. They’ve convinced women that empowerment is a feeling and not a change in power position

30. They blame their antisocial loneliness epidemic on us

31. The tried to use the Love Languages on us

32. They created psychiatry as a way to at least in part control women just as they created medicine to control and destroy midwives

33. They place the locus of responsibility outside themselves which makes them perpetual victims

34. They created purity culture

35. They created porn culture

36. They buy and use and masturbate to trafficked and vulnerable women and it doesn’t matter to them

37. They corner me in the workplace

38. They are always looking at us - I want to not be perceived sexually at all

39. They use women for all of their emotional dumping and we aren’t certified to handle it

40. They resent our happiness (shaming it)

41. We had to create laws to keep them from marrying and having sex with kids. Like, everywhere. We haven’t even succeeded globally

42. They hold women in power to an entirely separate standard than men

43. They’re lazy

44. They can solve complex problems and be incentive and self-improving at work, but are seemingly really incapable of doing this for relationships

45. They won’t see something unless it directly impacts them personally

46. They are emotionally unintelligent

47. They are violent

48. They are wilfully ignorant of the constant threat of sexual violence women face

49. They are making and using technology to get past consent

50. They believe women have a use value

51. They’re lying when they say they can’t show emotions : art, culture, music, etc belie this. And this is aside from the fact that we acknowledge their pride, nationalism, anger, boorishness, sulkishness, entitlement, jealousy, etc. these are emotions too.

52. They use power to get or pressure or coerce sex

53. They don’t mentor women professionally unless they’re sexually attracted to them physically

54. They’re bad and aggressive drivers

55. They’re predatory and some don’t know it ???????

56. They play dumb

57. They owe us reparations and refuse to even consider this - we were left out of Das Kapital

58. They try to turn their wives into their mothers

59. They moderate men and women differently in social media spaces

60. We can’t trust them as soldiers or peace corps

61. We can’t trust them alone with kids period - who do we tell kids to go to if they’re lost?!!

62. That they’ve turned violence into sex “body count” “fuck the shit out of you”

63. We can’t be honest with them - we have to tiptoe around them

64. I’m pissed more men aren’t speaking out about the obvious loss of civil rights of women globally - what the hell! It makes me believe that they kinda want it to happen (plausible deniability of course) because like it’s not gonna hurt them right?

65. At any given time I could pull up incidents where instead of intervening while a woman is being assaulted, the assault is filmed by other men. The reverse simply doesn’t happen.

66. They love borrowed authority

67. I hate them because when they ask “what do you want me to do about it?” And you say the most slacktivist thing, they won’t even do that. They’ll do NOTHING.

68. Because the most unsafe place for a woman in the world is the home

69. Because a woman is killed by an intimate partner globally every 11 minutes

70. Because the number one cause of death for pregnant women in the states is murder

71. Because they believe their morals are their best intentions. It’s like they all think they’re brave but he’s anyone done anything brave ?

72. They use weaponized incompetence to control people and be lazy

73. They believe sexism is benevolence

74. Because someone taught them that it’s the thought that counts and it almost never is the thought that counts

75. That gang rape is a thing

76. Because only a handful of men have most of the global wealth

77. They move goalposts: you can say what your experience is but they’ll discount it as one. You can say it’s others that have experienced the same thing and they’ll discount it as over represented.

78. There’s no acceptable way to be really angry with them, and express that, as a woman

79. They feel comfortable making comments about women’s physical appearance, touching us without our consent and bank on us not rocking the boat.

80. They refuse to believe in the wage gap

81. We could have child care as being mandated but because women are primary childcare givers, we don’t have this.

82. Medicine was only tested on both genders recently because it was too difficult to do apparently

83. Our medical issues aren’t taken seriously

84. Mass shooters are almost exclusively men

85. Because they moan about suicide rates and forget to mention all the women and kids and sometimes strangers that suicidal men take with them

86. They believe they’re entitled to sex - through payment guilt or force

87. They rarely care about what girls think unless they have a daughter

88. Cultures abort girl babies and before they just exposed them to the elements. As a result there’s India and China and the Middle East Hong Kong, South Korea, Taiwan Vietnam etc there are more men than women

89. They don’t stop female genital mutilation. And they could if they wanted to.

90. More than 100 million women are missing - the shortfall of the number of women in the world we would expect in the absence of sex discrimination

91. They desire us to be dependent on them. Independence terrifies them.

92. They let women leave the workforce during the pandemic.

93. They see male history, male writing, male law as standard and they aren’t. They’d freak out if the USA had 9 woman Supreme Court justices

94. They are more sexist than even racist

95. Male over female Domination is the first and most primal form of oppression

96. Prostitution is the first form of trafficking not the worlds oldest profession

97. They can compartmentalize the pain of others - especially if it doesn’t impact them or their family (their own private kingdom)

98. Every man assumes he’s the king and grows up taught that they deserve to own things, people and property

99. They see women as girls all as potential sexual objects. Especially if they’re mad.

100. They treat sex workers as a different class

101. Women don’t keep men as sex slaves

102. They’ve made the law such that women cannot logistically perform murder in self defence

103. They say porn is free speech and that it’s not real when it’s convenient

104. Despite all of this: all of the proof and every experience logged and litigated… that they don’t believe that women still are being oppressed under male supremacy.

105. Because someone has said it’s okay for drag queens to use “bitch serving cunt” as an expression of femininity- and claim it’s not misogynistic

106. Because of the so-called “husband stitch”

#misandry #misogyny #feminism #feminist

#terfblr #andrea dworkin #radical feminist #radical feminist safe #radical feminists please interact #radical feminist theory #andrea+dworkin #feminism #we should all be feminists

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ariasakka · 19 days ago

Text

Flames of Fate

Most of you followed me from my Viktor arcane smut…I have a feeling you won’t be interested in my Enji works so please just pretend you don’t see these ones thank you 😊

Your Fuyumi’s new work best friend you go to her house one night to drink and talk boys that’s when you meet her dad…

Female reader, age gap, daddy kink, size difference, smut with plot, fluff, etc

MDNI

Yeah so for some reason my Enji obsession always gets so bad when I’m ovulating…I had to give in and write Enji again for my own guilty pleasure. Hope you like the fic!

Fuyumi is 25, Enji is 45, you are around the same as as them in this story. (In my head y/n is 23-25 but you can make the reader whatever age you wish)

Song I was thinking of while writing “guys my age” by hey Violet

Fuyumi work’s at a hero day care. It’s nothing too special but it pays really good and it’s secure. Her dad gave her a good recommendation so she knows for sure they’d never dare fire Endeavor’s daughter.

She’s been working there since she was 20. Fuyumi went to college for about a year then dropped out. Enji didn’t mind as long as she was able to find a good job which she did. She hasn’t been able to make friends at day care because most of the women working there are far older and have little to nothing in common other than good cooking skills. That was until you started working there a few months ago.

Fuyumi was so happy to have someone close to her age working there with her! You are a bit shy so it took a few months for you guys to start being close. Finally you both got close enough for her to ask you over for drinks.

Fuyumi wanted to talk boy problems. She didn’t have anyone to vent to about stuff like this. She definitely couldn’t talk to her brothers about this sort of thing. You honestly found it amusing you had always thought Fuyumi was the innocent type you were eager to learn more about her.

Fuyumi had picked you up from your apartment to bring you over to her house.

When she had parked outside a massive house you were confused. You didn’t know she was Endeavors daughter. She doesn’t ever talk about her family aside from her brothers. You had thought she lived alone. You felt a little underdressed now. You were wearing a black fitted long sleeve shirt with a long skirt, still a nice choice but still.

You “Hey um, this is where you live?”

Fuyumi “Yeah! Sorry I forgot to mention. I still live with my brothers and dad! Though my brothers all live in school dorms so mostly just my dad.”

You “No worries. I now feel a bit underdressed for such a nice house haha”

Fuyumi “Don’t worry about it, you always look great y/n! If anything you always make me feel underdressed at work with all your natural beauty. Well here we are! Do you have any drink preferences?”

You “Nothing too strong I can’t handle alcohol that well.”

You both walk into the house. It’s absolutely beautiful and spotless. You wonder if her father hires a cleaner or if Fuyumi does this all herself. She leads you to the living room, it’s almost the size of your apartment. You can imagine she must get lonely being in such a big house all the time with her brothers at school.

Fuyumi comes back with a few bottles of wine and some glasses.

Fuyumi “Stealing some of my dad’s fancy wine tonight. But don’t worry he won’t mind. It’ll be just us for a while dad doesn’t get back till late.”

You smirk while pouring a glass “So…what are these so called boy problems you were so eager to tell me about mm?”

You both spend a few hours chatting about boys. Turns out Fuyumi had been sleeping with two men at the same time. They found out and now she doesn’t know who to choose. She’s considering being polygamous with them. So unexpected but you figure she needs some excitement in her life. After all working at a daycare isn’t really all that exciting even if they do all have quirks.

Endeavor had arrived back home from work earlier than his daughter expected. It’s around 7 she wasn’t expecting him till 10 especially since it’s a Friday. Fuyumi was laughing so loudly talking about the sex she had last night neither one of you heard Endeavor come in. He knew when his daughter was laughing so loudly she had to be drinking again. Enji knew whenever she drank she forgot to eat he wouldn’t let her go to bed on an empty stomach. Trying his best to Ignore the topic she was talking about he walked up to the living room and knocked gently on the already half open sliding door.

Enji teases “Fuyumi are you stealing my wine again?”

Fuyumi “Oh my god dad! I- I thought you’d be home later.”

Enji “Oh, hello, I am Fuyumi’s father. Sorry I didn’t know anyone else was here. I’m Mister Todoroki. Have either of you girls eaten? If not I’ll order something. What do you both want?”

As soon as he walks through the door you lock eyes with him. He’s the largest man you’ve ever seen. He looked so sexy and intimidating at the same time. Then when he opened his mouth, oh my god. You’d never known someone could speak that low. His voice had too big of an effect on you. You had to gently press your legs together hoping no one would notice since the table was in the way. You shouldn’t be thinking this way about your best friend’s father. She’d probably hate you if she found out. It’s even worse that both of you hadn’t broken eye contact since he walked in. You were desperately waiting for Fuyumi to answer. The only thing you wanted to eat right now was her dad.

Fuyumi “No not yet, Chinese takeout is good. Is that okay for you y/n?”

You smile and nod at Enji “Yes thats fine. Thank you sir.” before turning your gaze back to Fuyumi.

You were the first thing Enji noticed when he came in the living room. You were striking. He knew Fuyumi had mentioned making a new friend at work but he never thought she would be this breathtaking. He couldn’t take his eyes off you. You were smaller than most women. A little smaller than Fuyumi who was also already small. He wanted you to look up at him like that forever. Enji was going to call to get a pickup order but instead heads right out to get it himself. He needs time to wash those thoughts out of his head. It didn’t help the whole time he was gone he thought about how beautiful your hair looked. How cute your flushed face was when you weren’t expecting anyone to come home. He figured he just needed to get fucked. Though it hadn’t been that long since he had a one night stand. Something about you was different, more intriguing. It didn’t help that he knew he probably wouldn’t think anything was more beautiful than you. He shouldn’t be thinking about his daughters only friend like this.

As soon as Enji left the awkward tension left and the two of you got back to chatting as if he was never there.

Fuyumi “I’m sorry i should’ve told you who my dad was! I didn’t think he’d be home at all he usually works really late Fridays. I didn’t want you to just be my friend because of my dad a lot of girls in college used to talk to me only because of him.”

Oh, you hadn’t even realized it was Endeavor for a few minutes the only thing you could think about was how attractive that man was. He looked so different out of his Hero costume.

You “I guess it explains the house haha. It’s alright Fuyumi don’t feel bad for not telling me. I get it, I do. When I was younger both of my parents were drunks. They left me to fend for myself. I had to live out of random guys houses until I had enough money for my own rent. I never told anyone that because I knew they wouldn’t want to be my friend. They’d think I was too troubled. Some people found out in highschool and well let’s just say that’s the reason you’re my only friend right now.”

Fuyumi “I would never judge you for that. I’m glad we both know eachother better now. You could probably already tell but you’re my only friend too. I was so happy when you started working at the daycare!”

Fuyumi “So tell me about your boy life now, I’ve basically told you all of mine. It’s only fair y/n”

You “Well about those “guys” I used to live with in highschool. I guess those were sort of relationships if you want to call it that. I didn’t have any money so they asked me to sleep with them to “make up for it” I didn’t really enjoy it. None of them could make me cum but it was fine at least I had a roof over my head. Thank god for this job now. Pays for a decent apartment.”

Fuyumi had no idea why you lived in such a small apartment with your job. It was the size of her bedroom. Granted her bedroom was bigger than average and due to her dad being Endeavor she gets payed more than everyone else but she doesn’t know that.

Fuyumi “Very glad you have an apartment now. Were there better guys after that?”

You “Well I dated two guys after that who were our age. The first one, horrible in bed, and had such a major cheating problem. Fuck that many girls and you still don’t know how to make one finish? Funny because he was the one that left actually. The second guy was so sweet. I tried to like him I really did. I figured if I was with someone nice then I’d actually be treated well and able to finish for once. No luck there. He was so boring he couldn’t even make me laugh once. I felt bad because I knew he was a good person but after two years I just had to end it. I thought the relationship would get better as it aged but I only grew more tired. Recently I started talking to someone new. We aren’t dating yet. Still the talking stages. He can’t seem to remember a single thing about me though. He even called me the wrong name last night. But I’m bored so I guess I’ll date him. It’s not like there’s any other better men out there right now for me. Maybe he can be useful and go down on me. Speaking of, why are so many men so scared to do that nowadays as if they don’t shove themselves down our mouths not caring if we like it? So annoying!”

Fuyumi smirks “Can’t finish? I can give you some toys later to help with that. Maybe plastic can treat you better than a man.”

You “Fuyumi!”

You both laugh so loud after that. Both of you even more drunk now and unaware that Enji had been back to hear that conversation. He shouldn’t have been listening but he couldn’t help it. You seemed so sweet with the way Fuyumi always talks about you. You’re drop dead gorgeous too he couldn’t believe you’ve had such bad luck with men. Before he waits too long that someone awkwardly sees him he makes his way to the living room. He walks a little heavier so you both can hear him.

Enji “Hi girls. Here’s your food. Don’t drink too much you’ll make yourselfs sick.”

You were so embarrassed hoping he didn’t hear any of the conversation. Fuyumi was too drunk to care she started filling her face with the food immediately.

You “Thank you so much Mister Todoroki sir, you didn’t have to. I really appreciate the food.”

Enji “You’re welcome y/n, I hope you like the food.” He points to Fuyumi “Did she drink too much?”

You chuckle “Yeah i think a little.”

Fuck her laugh is cute

Why is he looking at me like that did I do something?

Enji “I’ll leave both of you be, I’ll be in my office if you need something.”

I hope I didn’t stare too long I don’t want her thinking Fuyumi’s dad is a creep.

A little while after eating it’s midnight now. Fuyumi was supposed to drive you home but she’s passed out on the couch now. You loudly stumble your way all to the front door. You’re going to call a late night cab once you’re outside. Enji hears the noise of your heels walking about. Right before you can open the front door you feel a strong heat radiating behind you and feel a hard push on the door. Oh fuck. Endeavor is standing behind me isn’t he. You look up and see his hand pressed against the door. You turn around to look up at his face. “I was going to call a cab sir-“

Enji “It’s far too late and you’re far too drunk to go home. We have spare rooms. I’ll make you a bed. Don’t try to argue I won’t take no for an answer. I know Fuyumi will be happy to talk more with you in the morning. Now let me show you to your room.”

Was he always this hot when he was stern? All you can do is nod and follow him. Just as you thought the house couldn’t get any bigger the upstairs was even more beautiful. There were so many rooms you wondered what they were all for. He couldn’t stop thinking about what you were telling Fuyumi about men. He should be more nervous to say anything but he feels like he has to.

Enji “I know it’s not my place but I overheard a little. A nice respectable young woman like you should not settle for awful men. You should drop that fool who can’t remember simple things about you. Y/n you can find much better.”

You “oh- I um. Thanks I will.”

You had just met did he really think that highly of you?

Enji “Here’s the bathroom. Please brush your teeth while I bring you something to wear to sleep.”

He would’ve got something of Fuyumi’s for you to wear but he wasn’t sure what clothes she was okay having borrowed. He got one of his sons old sweatshirts and instead.

Enji “Here’s a sweatshirt it should be comfortable enough for tonight.”

Without thinking you start to undress infront of him to put the sweatshirt on. He should really look away but you don’t seem to notice. You’re too drunk to care. He can’t bring himself to look away anyways. Your breasts look so soft. He could fit both of them in one hand. You’re even shorter without your heels on. And the sweatshirt, oh god. The sweatshirt goes down long enough that he can’t see anything more as you undo your skirt from under the sweatshirt.

You looked so small in it. It came above your knees. He wants to see what you look like in one of his shirts next. Maybe next time you sleep over he can lend you one of his.

Enji “I’ll wash your clothes tomorrow morning. I brought some of Fuyumi’s makeup remover too-“

You wine in protest “Ew no! I don’t want you to see me without makeup you already are seeing me drunk!”

Enji “Come on, don’t be bad. It’s not good to sleep in your makeup.”

The way he said that so sternly yet so calm is making you feel more wet than you want to admit. You immediately submit and grab the makeup wipes away from him to wipe off the makeup yourself. As you do you are a bit wobbly standing up, you feel so dizzy. Your reflection in the mirror is fuzzy from a mix of wine, makeup in your eyes, and tiredness.

Enji sits down and pats his lap. “Here let me. You’re too drunk. I’ll help you.”

You sit in his lap. He immediately praises you with a “good girl” thinking nothing of it. His touch was so warm. If only he knew what he was doing to you.

You’re soft, so small in his lap. Much smaller than his ex wife ever was. Fuck the thought of splitting your little cunt open on his cock..no wait why is he still thinking that. He can’t think that. Not about his daughter’s friend. Why did Fuyumi have to make friends with someone so tempting?!

Enji helps take off your makeup as you sit in his lap. The way he wipes it off so soft despite being so strong was surprising. It was nice. Maybe he’s helped Fuyumi with her makeup when she’s been drunk before or maybe..a wife? Fuyumi didn’t mention a mom, does she have a mom? Oh no if you’re feeling this way about your best friend’s dad AND a married man that’s awful.

Enji finishes removing your makeup. Fuck, I really didn’t think someone could be more beautiful without makeup he thinks to himself.

“You’re just as beautiful without makeup. Now, don’t drink as much next time please. It’s bad for your health.”

He gently brushes your messy hair with his fingers after setting the makeup wipes aside. You’re too far gone and sleepy to have any more self control over your words. You drunkly say “Why didn’t Fuyumi ever tell me her dad was so hot?”

Before he can even say anything like he would anyways he’s too stunned to speak, you fall asleep in his chest. He gently lifts you up and lays you down on the spare bed. He places some blankets over you so you won’t fall cold. He stays there for a moment watching you sleep. He questions your words. Could she really find me attractive? An old man like me, I’m a pro hero yes but women only ever want me for my wealth not my looks? Maybe if I touch myself tonight thinking of her I’ll get over it. She’s probably just drunk. Yeah that’s it, she’s just drunk. She won’t even remember it tomorrow. It definitely didn’t mean anything.

When he goes to his room he’s already hard. He touches himself to the thought of you. Little did he know it would only make him want you more.

When you wake up you shower before putting on the sweatshirt again. You go downstairs to see if Fuyumi is awake yet. When you go down stairs you instantly lock eyes with Enji in the kitchen. He’s sitting down drinking coffee. Somehow he seems hotter than last night. His hair is slightly damp from a shower you want to run your fingers through it. You don’t remember anything from last night after he started to take your makeup off.

Enji “Good morning. I heard you showering and made you some coffee. Fuyumi just got in the shower she should be out shortly with some spare clothes. Your clothes are outside hanging to dry.”

You take a sip of the coffee. Your head is aching. “Thank you Mister Todoroki and thank you again for letting me stay the night.”

You expected he would have Fuyumi wash your clothes. You think it’s sweet he took the time to do that. You wonder why she never talks about her dad when he’s such a gentlemen.

Fuyumi lended you some clothes to wear shortly after. You’re a different bra size than her so that was the only thing you couldn’t share of hers. Unfortunately for Enji he would be able to see your hard nipples perfectly in that tight sweater. The second he saw them he nearly choked on his coffee. You were too nervous to look at his face much with worry you’d get too obviously flustered so you didn’t notice much his gazes. Anytime you did notice you just assumed he was observing you and Fuyumi talking like any dad would. Fuyumi on the other hand noticed exactly what her father was choking at. She assumed it was just because he was more old fashioned. After all he did always used to make Rei dress proper when they were still together. She didn’t want to embarrass you by explaining to her dad why you were without a bra especially since you didn’t seem to notice he was looking so she decided to change the subject.

Fuyumi “Um dad. Have you eaten yet? I was going to start breakfest what would you like?”

Enji “You can make whatever you wish. I have some work to do so please put it in the refrigerator. Thank you Fuyumi.”

He quickly gets up and rushes off to his office locking the door behind him. He was suppressing himself from getting hard just long enough until he left the kitchen. Why were you having this effect on him? He’s not a teenager anymore. Once again he touches himself to the thought of you. It would be so fun to fuck you on his office table. Or even have you soaking on his cock while he’s working.

While Enji is away Fuyumi takes this opportunity to give you the sex toys she mentioned last night before making breakfast.

Fuyumi giggles “While dad’s gone come up to my room let me give you some things.”

You “Oh god girl why do you have so many?”

Fuyumi “Some guys I slept with before bought me some but since i already had so many I figured you could use the ones I haven’t opened. Can’t let them go to waste. Here I’ll give you a bag to hide it in so dad doesn’t see. Have you really never used them before?”

You “No but I guess it doesn’t hurt to try. Most guys got insecure anytime I even suggested them.”

You knew exactly what you were going to think about next time you used them. Maybe once you came to Mister Todoroki you’d stop thinking about him so foully and could get under someone else.

While the two of you are eating together Fuyumi says “So what did you think of my dad I know he can be a little intimidating.”

You “Well at first i thought he looked a little scary but I think he’s sweet actually. He helped me take my makeup off last night.”

Fuyumi “Oh good! I was worried you’d get scared and never come over again.”

You “Fuyumi definitely not even if he was awful you’re still my only friend and I’d still find a way to hangout with you.”

A bit later Enji walks up to the both of you. “Whenever you’re ready to go home y/n I can drive you.”

Fuyumi “Dad I-“

Enji teases “Don’t let Fuyumi drive you home when she’s hungover she’d end up driving you to a random house or getting my car crashed.”

Fuyumi “Finee dad. Well are you ready to go home then? I can text you a few dates I was thinking we could hang out next.”

You “Okay yeah, that’s great thanks.”

Enji walks away for a moment bringing back a coat. He gently places it over you. “Alright let’s go y/n. I’ll hold your bag.” It’s one of his coats he definitely did that to see how small you’d be in something of his. It did not disappoint.

You were expecting Fuyumi to come with you even though she wasn’t going to be driving. To your surprise she stayed perfectly still enjoying whatever she was looking at on her phone. She hadn’t thought about going with you not after you told her you thought her dad was sweet. You’re just hoping more alone time with her dad can help you find one ick about him. So you can stop thinking about your best friend’s father like this.

Unfortunately the more time you spend alone with him the more charming he gets. First he asked your music preferences for the ride back. Then when he saw how small your apartment was he told you a job at his agency was always welcome. Not just so he could see you more but also so his daughter’s friend could have a good life. He knows how caring she can be about people close to her for better or for worse. Then when he saw nearly all your light bulbs were either flickering or out in your apartment he changed them all without being asked. The second he left you immediately headed straight for the sex toys. How the hell was just thinking of him getting you off more than being with an actual man. You’re definitely cutting off that new guy you’re talking too, thinking about Fuyumi’s dad having his way with you is much better.

Enji comes back from driving you home.

Fuyumi “Heyy dad y/n called you sweet. Thanks for taking care of her last night. She’s my first friend I’ve had in a while. Most of my friends were usually scared of you. I’m glad she isn’t. She’ll definitely be coming over more.”

Oh she thinks I’m sweet? Could she be thinking about me too? No. No, definitely not. She’s just being a kind young lady.

Enji “All your old friends thought I was scary?”

Fuyumi “I- oh um- sorry! It’s just, you can be intimidating but I’m not saying it’s a bad thing it’s just-“

Enji “It’s alright I’d rather them not think I’m too inviting. I don’t want people all over me like they are with Toshinori. I’m glad you have a good friend now. Although I didn’t realize that job pays most of their employees so poorly her apartment is quite small.”

Fuyumi “Is it? I haven’t been yet but she’s told me about it. My pay is good…wait..that’s not because of you is it?”

Enji “I’m sorry I-“

Fuyumi “it’s fine, thank you dad.”

Fuyumi looks over at the clothing rack “Oh are those her clothes? Are they dry yet? I’ll text her to come get them tomorrow. You could’ve asked me to wash them”

Enji “It’s alright I didn’t mind.”

Mainly because he wanted to use your panties last night. Sucking on them while he got himself off. He could wash away any evidence of his own saliva on them himself. No one would know, no one would get hurt.

Tomorrow you come over to get your clothes. You’re expecting Fuyumi but Enji answers the door.

You “Oh hi Mister Todoroki, where’s Fuyumi?”Enji “She’s out getting groceries for this week she won’t be back for a couple more hours.”

You “Oh alright. I brought Fuyumi her clothes back too.”

She just loved leaving the two of you alone didn’t she. It’s so awkward being alone after you practically came to the thought of him last night. Maybe you should’ve told her you were scared of him. His bright blue eyes nearly blind you everytime you look at them. It doesn’t help that looking at the rest of him also makes you flustered as well too.

Enji “Your clothes are laying on the bed in the spare room upstairs. Fuyumi also left out a few clothes she didn’t want anymore on the bed too. I can discard whatever you don’t want.”

You follow him upstairs to the spare room. He stands behind you giving you space to look over the clothes.

You “Thank you again for washing my clothes Mister Todoroki.”

You bend over on the bed to fold your clothes, your skirt rides up a bit. Your thong is showing. Enji was going to do the right thing and look away until he noticed it was wet. You were soaking wet. You weren’t trying to be but the more he talks, the more you’re around him, the wetter you get.

You were wet. Did he do that? He groans quietly “fuck” oh he didn’t mean to say that out loud

You turn your head around “Sorry?”

Against his better judgment he says “Your skirt is awfully short. Paired with those panties as well? I can see how wet you are that’s awfully naughty. Did you do it on purpose?”

You “No! Sir I’m sorry. I just saw Fuyumi’s text this morning and I didn’t have anything else to wear I need to do laundry. It won’t happen again.”

Is he mad at me? He talks way too sexy for being so mad.

He shouldn’t go further but he does.

Enji “Do you want to feel what it’s like to cum?”

You “Mister Todoroki- What about your wife?”

Enji “Divorced. Yes or no.”

You should be saying no but the only thing that can come out of your mouth is “Yes please.”

He pushes your stomach back down on the bed harshly. Leaving you ass up forcing you to arch your back. “Good girl” he says before he rips your thong off completely. It took such little force for him to break the fabric it makes you weak. He uses the broken fabric to tie your hands behind your back. Who knew Endeavor was so kinky?

Enji “Fuyumi would hate me if she found out can you keep that pretty mouth of yours shut?”

You “Yes sir, I won’t tell. Promise!”

He moans so loud it sends shivers down your spine. Oh? Does sir turn him on?

He pushes your back to the bed harder making you arch. He puts two fingers inside you he knows with how tight you feel on him now you wouldn’t be able to comfortably take his cock but this is enough for him today.

You gasp forgetting how to breathe. You’re drooling onto your clothes. Two of this man’s fingers are thicker and longer than any dick you’ve ever had inside you before.

Enji growls “Fuck so tight for me! Let daddy rub your pretty pussy so you can take it better okay?”

Oh fuck, he likes a lot more than just sir. You whimper at his touch. You can tell he’s doing his best to be gentle. If you could take any more you’d be on your knees begging him not to hold back. You feel closer to cumming from his voice than you ever have from anyone or anything else.

Enji “Pretty girl likes when her pussy gets rubbed? I can tell you just opened up for my fingers so nicely. They’re all the way inside now. I can feel you pulsing all over them baby. Does it feel good, does daddy make your pussy feel good?”

All you can manage to get out in response are nods and soft moans. He suddenly increases the pace he’s rubbing your clit.

Enji “Be a good girl use your words.”

You “Yes, d-daddy it feels so good. I think I’m going to- oh my god.”

Enji “That’s it cum for me sweetheart. Let go for me.”

You’ve never came so hard in your life. He doesn’t stop thrusting his fingers despite your body shaking uncontrollably. Nobody will ever be able to satisfy you after this.

Enji “Say thank you daddy”

You “Oh fuck- thank you daddy!”

Enji “Good girl”

He licks his fingers clean. “tastey”

He grabs your ass spreading you apart before kneeling on the ground below you, eating your pussy out from behind. With his deep groans and thick tongue you’re so overstimulated you feel like you could cum again. He’s eating you out like he’s starved. It only took two minutes of Enji working your folds with his tongue for you to cum all over his face. The moans he lets out while lapping up your juices sound like he’s getting high off your taste. Your only hope is that Fuyumi doesn’t come home and walk in on this.

When he’s finished he grabs a warm towel to clean you up. Then unties your hands. He puts the broken thong in his pocket. What is he going to do with it?

Enji “Next time I want you stretched out on my cock. Would you be alright with that?”

You “Yes, Mister Todoroki I would be more than okay with that.”

He grabs your phone to give you his number. he puts his contact in as the letter E. He places his phone in your hand for you to do the same.

Enji “You can call me Enji outside of the bedroom, text me if you want to feel good again.”

I might make another part but I suck at being consistent so don’t take my word for it.

Chapter 2

https://www.tumblr.com/ariasakka/773827348723318784/flames-of-fate-chapter-2-things-with-you

Notes:

Endeavor is such a guilty pleasure I need to sort the daddy issues out but i don’t want to. I hope you guys enjoyed! Sorry I know I’m not the best at grammar or spelling I hope you still like my works regardless. Comment down below any future endeavor fic ideas you’d like to see from me in the future.

Help?

I’ve resorted back to using apple notes to write all my work ahh. I was using google docs but people I know keep getting their accounts closed for writing fan fiction it was scaring me. Do you guys know any free things I could use to write on for my work? I was thinking about maybe trying word. Not sure if it’s good! I’m really bad with computers which is why I still use my phone haha. It’s so much easier to copy and paste my work than try to figure out how to use files or whatever. I need to start writing on the computer eventually though.

#smut #bmha #endeavor #enji todoroki #fanfic #mha #endeavor x reader #enji todoroki x reader #enji x reader #my hero academia #enji todoroki smut #endeavor smut

63 notes · View notes

orchidyoonkook · 10 months ago

Text

To What We Were Before, And All The Things After | JJK | Ch. 6 | M

Title: Eastern Arrivals and Unwanted Doubt

Pairing: Prince!College Student!JK x Fine Arts Major!(F)!Reader

Series Rating//Genre: (M) | College AU, Mild Royalty AU, Smut, Angst, Fluff, S2F2L, Indiffernce to lovers, sloooowwww ass burn

Summary: Nel's here for the week and you couldn't be more excited!! Jungkook's another story though...

Warnings: M, fluff, smut, swearing, drinking, pining, angsstt, slight boundary pushing (not sexual), unwanted/ unneeded overprotectiveness, jealousy, lying, [reader eats bacon and eggs but it's not specified what kind or where it's from, just bacon and eggs, so whether that means veggie, vegan or normal is up to you], intentional pissing off of Nel, a little spat between major characters, sex as a plot device.

Mature warnings under the cut.

Word Count: 6,945

Release Date: April 20, 2:00PM

A/N 1: 6 months later and we have chapter 6! slow updates, but they will be written and they will be posted. I have no plans to abandon this, I just, very unfortunately, have a bit of an outernet life now. So not a lot of free time to be creative which I hate. But it's here!!

Series: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five

Mature Warnings: Consensual sex x 2, both reader with Nel and JK with Ady -> sorry not sorry cuz it's plot sex. We got us some: kissing, protected sex (as we should), missionary, fingering, oral (f. rec), tiny bit of groping (consenual), multiple orgasms, loud sex, like annoyingly, sex as a terrible coping mechanism (imo), fantasizing.

Bouncing lightly from foot to foot, you’re buzzing after finally receiving the text you were waiting on a few minutes ago.

Nelly <3 [10:10pm]: Landed. See you soon 😘

He’s almost here. He’s almost here!

Just a few more seconds until—

The gates slide open. A flood of people in a mixture of sweats and business casual wear with luggage of all sizes and neck pillows walk through. You hold up the sign above your head with both hands, a smile that could outshine the sun plastered on your face, and search.

Where is he? Where is he, where is he, where is he, you think as you scour the bodies filing out of the automatic doors. You can’t see him. He’s none of the nameless faces that pass you by as they find their family, friends or rides.

Is this even the right group of people? What if his luggage got lost and he won’t be out with this group. What if he got taken aside for some reason, and now he’s being held in some dusty room being asked a bunch of stupid questions he doesn’t know how to answer? What if he’s fig—

But then there’s a gap in the crowd, and the boy you’ve spent the last half decade of your life with comes into perfect, crystalline view. His lips pulled taught, teeth beautifully bared as he sets his sights on your sign high in the air, then down to you.

And you're running.

You’re running and dodging and swerving until you’re jumping into Nels arms as he abandons his suitcase in favour of keeping you both up right. He buries his face into your neck, holding you so tightly you think he’ll never let go. And that’s just fine with you as you hold on just as tight, taking in a big breath of him too.

He smells like airplane and coastal breeze and most importantly, home.

Nel smells like home.

A muffled, “Ohhhhhhh, I missed you,” greets your ears, and you melt into him even more if that's even possible.

“I missed you too,” you say, pulling back and kissing him. You don’t really care if there’s an audience or not right now. Not when Nel’s here, and he’s in your arms, and he’s yours for a whole 9 days and life is as it should be once again.

He releases his hold slightly, but your arms don’t leave his shoulders. The sign still clutched, now crushed and crinkled, in one hand.

“Car?” he asks, a kiss to your nose.

“This way,” you lead, releasing your hold.

Luckily, his suitcase is small, so he forgoes rolling it, instead gripping the handle at the top and carrying it in one hand. Your own reaching for his other and not letting go. He’s going to have to peel you off him if he wants space right now.

Nel’s wearing his usual fall attire; a dark green school sweater that has ‘ECAD’ written over the chest in a large, academic looking mustard yellow font, regular old blue jeans, and dark brown lace up boots. His short, dirty blond hair's covered by a hat you’d gotten him as a highschool graduation present, and his ocean blue eyes remain as gorgeous as they were the day you met.

Passing through doors to the outside and back to lot J, you hop in the car as he puts his bag in the trunk.

“How have you been? What’s new? What’s not? Tell me everything,” he asks as he climbs in and sits beside you, hand finding yours again.

Never gone for too long. You relish in the comfort and happiness that alone brings you.

He’s finally here. You finally have him back.

“I’m great. Yuri’s still Yuri, classes are only a little more challenging this year, but I’m still at the top of them,” Nel slips in a ‘not surprised’ and you smile brighter as you continue. “They’re already telling us to start brainstorming ideas for our thesis show next year,” you have no idea what you’re going to do, but you’re working on it. “Campus is the same, dorms are the same, the cafe’s the same. Though, they have the egg tarts I like in more, which is awesome for my taste buds and terrible for my bank account.”

Vivian stayed true to her word, and now they had the tarts in every week.

“I can only imagine,” Nel jokes.

“Uhhmm, what else…” a thought pops up, and you guess you can tell him. It doesn’t reveal anything the whole world doesn’t already know. “The prince is dating Adaline Dupree.”

His eyebrows raise, remembering, “Oh yeah, that’s right, the prince goes to your school now.”

“Yep.”

“Have you met him?”

Is he seriously not completely shocked at the prince dating Adaline? You only bitched about her to him all the time.

“Uhhh… yep, once or twice, I guess.”

You hate it. You hate lying, especially to Nel. You hate it so much, but it’s for the greater good. It’s to keep the peace. But that doesn’t stop the burning feeling in your chest nor the roil in your belly.

“The day he arrived Yuri dragged me down to see him speak. She made us sit front row because Yuri,” Nel nods, knowing exactly what you mean. “He had everyone assemble to hear why he was at school and tell us not to treat him like a prince. He wants to be able to study without his title getting in the way.”

You hit your blinker, making a one handed left turn.

“Makes sense. Is he nice at least?” Nel doesn’t sound at all suspicious, and why should he? You’ve never given him reason to not believe you at your word before. Never lied to him before.

Fuck you hate this so much. It was so much easier when he was 5000 miles away. But now that he's right beside you? This week may end up being more difficult than you thought.

“He was very princely. Tried to kiss my hand like he did like every other girl there, but I made it a handshake instead. Figured if he wants to be treated like everyone else, I would liste—Oh!” you laugh before you can even get the words out.

“What?” he asks, intrigued but confused.

You can barely speak coherently. “You should have seen Yuri’s face when I called him Jungkook and not Prince or Your Highness...her eyes nearly fell out of her head,” tears are starting to form from laughing so hard. “It was great.”

“He didn’t mind?” Nel asks and you shake your head. Yuri’s face that day will forever be seared into your brain for whenever you need a pick-me-up.

“No, he was grateful actually. I was the first person that had addressed him like that, the way he’d asked to be.” Stopping at a red light, you're finally regaining yourself.

“Well,” he squeezes your hand, “you always were good at first impressions,” and looks at you so softly you can’t help but smile into the kiss you give him.

He remembers that school art fair just as fondly as you do.

Nel pulls away first with a thought. “Is Yuri with us this time?”

Yuri hadn’t been able to go home last year, her parents too busy on a work trip, so she stayed back and kicked it with you two, but also gave you your space when needed.

Lots and lots of space.

“Nope! Parents welcomed her with open arms this afternoon, I’m sure. They’re all on some tropical island down south. She’s bringing me an ocean bottle though, so I’m excited for that. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to add a new one.”

Everytime you travelled somewhere with a beach you got a glass bottle and filled it with half sand, half water, added in some shells or rocks and labelled it. Instead of towels, keychains, or magnets, you did ocean bottles. They lined a shelf in your room back home.

You probably have at least fifteen of them by now. Your mum likes to travel and make sure you experience the world around you, not just your little corner of it.

“Oh that’s great babe! I know how much you love those.”

“Yeah, it is.” You lean your head on his shoulder, basking in his presence for as long as the light remains red.

He’s here. He’s yours.

You only have to do this for a couple more years and then you’ll be together all the time. God you can’t wait. But you are nothing if not disciplined.

And it’s going to be so worth it in the end.

The rest of the ride to your dorm goes by quickly.

Some more red lights, some more kisses. You point out the same things you always do on the way back, and Nel acts like it’s the first time he’s seen them, just like he always does.

His hand never leaves yours over the center console.

Soon enough, you find yourselves flopping down on your bed. Bags, jackets and shoes, scattered. Nel pulls you into him, his head on your pillow, yours lying on his chest. True peace settling in for the first time in months.

“I can't wait until we’re done school and I have more than four and a half months with you a year,” he sighs. “It’s not enough. I want more. Need more.”

“Me too. But good things come to those who wait.”

“Yeah…I’m just really sick of waiting.”

“Me too,” you repeat in a yawn.

Nel’s breathing slowly evens out as you lie there, content to be in your arms again. And you look up to see his eyes closed, warm exhales brushing over your face from his nose.

You can’t blame him for being so tired. He’d had an early morning exam before flying out, even brought his suitcase to it so he could leave the second he was done. Then, the flight alone was ten hours, plus travel times to and from the airports was about an hour each way, and the wait time before boarding was another two.

Shit, he’s probably been awake for around eighteen hours straight at this point because he’s also the type that can’t sleep on planes no matter what he tries.

Oh, Nel...Of course he’s exhausted.

Giving him a squeeze before getting up, you take off his socks and jeans carefully, then tuck him into bed as much as you can. You’d try the sweater, but it involved too many working parts and you didn’t want to wake him, so you figure it’s best to have the window open tonight instead.

Grabbing your phone, you tiptoe to the bathroom and do your night time routine. It’s not an overly complicated one, just brushing your teeth, washing your face and a simple 3 step skincare routine of cleanser, toner and moisturizer. Short and sweet, but it does the job.

Halfway through brushing, you do your friend due diligence and send Yuri a ‘back safe’ text, just like she’d sent you her own ‘here safe’ when she’d landed.

You spit and rinse, moving onto washing your face and applying cleanser.

Teeth clean and face moisturized, you sneak into your room again. Nel's still out cold.

You sneak out of habit—your mom wakes at the sound of a pin dropping. But absolutely nothing could wake Nel now outside of his mother’s voice and his morning alarm. It’s a talent of his you’ve always been jealous of.

Removing today's clothes and tossing them in your overflowing hamper—reminder to self: do laundry—you slide on your pjs and climb into bed beside him, plugging in your phone and setting it down.

A thought pops into your head and you pick it back up, shooting a quick text before you can think twice.

You [11:26pm]: home safe

It pings not seconds later.

PJK [11:26pm]: Thanks Picasso PJK [11:27pm]: glad ur home safe

Your heart beats a little louder at the nickname, and you chalk it up to the excitement still in you at having Nel here and being tired.

But you sleep better that night than you have in a long time.

A short, repetitive, rhythmic vibration.

Picasso [11:26pm]: home safe

Jungkook is still standing in the same corner by the wall, Adaline somewhere in the crowd in front of him dancing with her friends. She asked him to join her, but he declined. He doesn’t need to see himself more than half drunk and dancing on the cover of tomorrow’s news cycles. Not to mention his security team would shut the party down the second a camera flashed.

His guards are carefully stationed throughout the house, all dressed down in casual wear, a few with empty cups in their hands. One is watching some sort of beer pong like game in the corner, another is mingling with some guys over in the kitchen. Three he can’t immediately see. And he knows his head guard is outside in a black car ready to get him out at a moment's notice.

Nobody can tell they aren’t here for the party, not unless they’re sober enough to notice watchful eyes continually making their way over the crowd as the night goes on.

Your text woke him from the stillness he’s adapted from standing so long, trying hard not to draw attention to himself.

You were home safe. Home safe from the airport. Home safe from picking up Cornelius.

Your boyfriend.

Cornelius, your boyfriend.

He doesn’t acknowledge his teeth grinding.

You were home from picking up your beau but even then, you’d texted him to let him know you were back on campus safely. To let him know you were okay.

It’s the first thing that makes him smile all night.

So he sends back, a bit to quickly:

Me [11:26pm]: Thanks Picasso Me [11:26pm]: glad ur home safe

Because it means something to him that you deem him close enough to send a ‘home safe’ text too.

That you want him to know you’re back.

Want him to know you’re safe.

Whether you know it or not, your safety means a lot to Jungkook, so that little two word text makes his heart lurch.

He needs to leave.

He needs to get out of this fucking house and back to his dorm. He came, he drank, he observed, he fulfilled his boyfriend duty.

That’s enough for him.

He shoots Adaline a text that says he isn’t feeling well and gets out as fast as he possibly can, dodging bodies left and right and doing his best to hide his face.

Once he’s out, security team in tow, the cooling midnight air does him some good.

“Someone make sure she gets back to her dorm safe,” he says in their general direction, brain too muddled to be polite in this exact moment, but it’s nothing they haven’t seen before.

This is going to be such a long week.

He can’t wait till it’s over. Till he doesn’t have to share anymore.

He was never very good at it anyway.

The smell of bacon wakes you.

And toast, and…

Eggs?

You think, at least. Since when do you have bacon? Or eggs? Toast is a given, it’s part of your life’s blood.

Opening your eyes, you blindly reach for your phone, successfully unplugging it and bringing it to your face.

The screen is too bright but you suffer through it, squinting.

9:27am.

9:27?

You slept for ten hours!?

You can’t remember the last time you slept more than 6 consecutively, aside from recovery nights, and even then it was fitful.

Nel comes in with two plates, his full with a very Eastern breakfast of pancakes, scrambled eggs and bacon. Yours with two pieces of toast, lots of bacon, a bit of eggs and some fruit. Where did he—?

He smiles at your confusion, “You have a cafeteria that sells breakfast food, you know.”

You know that.

“I know that.”

“Do you? Because the look on your face says otherwise.”

You flop back down and pull the pillow over your head, mumbling incoherent nonsense. You rarely used the dorm cafeteria for breakfast. Much preferring the greenhouse cafe or simple toast and juice that you can make in your dorm.

He chuckles. “Two breakfasts for me then, okay, if you insist,” Nel moves to leave but you screech, uncovering your face.

“Noo! I want it. Please, sweet nutrition,” he hands the plate over when you sit up, arms out stretched, and you dig in.

After a piece of bacon, you ask, “How long have you been up?”

Nel’s sitting with his legs crossed at the end of your bed, munching away, “Long enough to get changed, grab my wallet, get food and come back.”

The bacon is really good. You’ve never been so glad he knew you so well as you grab another piece from the dwindling pile.

“You slept well then, too? That’s good, I’m glad. You needed the rest.”

“Having you around always makes it easier to fall asleep,” he nudges your knee with his elbow.

Even after five years he can still make you blush.

“I know the feeling.”

You two fall into step, starting your weeks in advance prepared plans, the rest of your day passing quickly.

Too quickly.

And so does the next day, and the next, and the next.

All of your activities are going great. The zoo, picnics, study dates, restaurant dates, historical, artistic and architectural museum tours. Even a swim at the school’s indoor pool, and there’s plenty more to come.

Things slip back into being easy, just as they always have been with Nel, ever since that first day back in tenth grade.

He knows you like the back of his hand and predicts your moves before you make them, just like you do for him.

You know his favourite foods, and where he prefers to park when driving—always avoiding open curbs—you know his dream travel destinations, and who his favourite musicians are. You know his favourite pencils to design with and his favourite pencils to shade with, that he always put on his right sock first, then right shoe, then left sock and left shoe. You know that his drink order is an iced coffee with two cream and two sugar, that he prefers loose shirts over fitted ones, and that his favourite colour is orange.

It’s a pretty orange too, not just any orange. You wonder if it’s anything like Jungkook's–

Wait.

You search your memory for the information, going through favourite foods, drinks, music—all discussed previously, because you know their answers. But colour?

Nothing.

How have you never asked what Jungkook’s favourite colour is?

Isn’t that usually one of the first things people ask when they’re trying to get to know one another? Funny. Guess you’ll have to inquire the next time you see him.

Anyways, just like you know everything there is to know about Nel, he knows everything about you too, including your routines.

Which is why at twelve noon every day, he starts getting ready to go to the greenhouse for your afternoon study session.

Including today.

Your week’s already half over and you hate it. Time always moves far to fast when all you want it to do is slow the fuck down.

You only have five days left. Five days.

You’re lucky the greenhouse cafe is open during break, some places on campus are required to stay open for the students who can’t make it home, but greenhouse chooses to.

As you and Nel turn the corner you see a familiar figure sitting in his old spot at the back of the patio. The same hat, mask and hoodie, now paired with a leather jacket on top due to the weather starting to cool down.

You can tell Jungkook wasn’t expecting to see you by the way he stiffens before those all too familiar brown eyes of his meet your own. Which is fair, your schedule shifts a bit when you’re on break, he isn’t used to you being here at twelve on Wednesdays.

But as quickly as he sees you, his gaze is back on his laptop, like he never saw you in the first place.

Like you asked him to do.

And a sharp pain stings inside your chest.

When you and Nel get to your table, he sits in the seat opposite to where you always do, leaving where Jungkook usually sits beside you, empty.

A part of you is grateful for that, though you can’t figure out why and table that self discussion for a later date.

Setting down your things, you ask Nel if he wants coffee. He answers yes, like always, and after a quick visit with Viv, you're pulling out your chair and setting down your cups. Your back faces Jungkook. It’s a small mercy you can’t see him. Maybe you can forget he’s here and actually focus on your work.

But it’s also exactly because of your position, that you can’t see as Jungkook subtly watches you over the rim of his laptop while you and Nel talk quietly and study.

Nel can though.

It feels weird to ignore him. To pretend you don’t know one another when for the better part of the last seven weeks all you’ve done is talk, hang out, study or a mixture of the three, every day.

When having him sit behind you and not beside you feels so wrong and so foreign.

But this is your own doing, you caused this. So you need to suck it up and get used to it.

This is exactly what you asked for all those weeks ago. The perfect solution to your problem.

No one can know.

Not Nel.

Not anyone.

But fuck, if it didn’t absolutely suck in practice.

Setting some of your books out around you and on the table Jungkook usually uses, you dig into your business homework. Having a major and a minor are great for job prospects, on paper, and in practice after you’ve completed them.

But getting them? It takes years of hard work and dedication with no distractions.

None.

You spend almost every free moment you have doing homework or practicing, trying to get ahead, trying to stay on top.

…Trying to beat Adaline.

But you just use that as fuel for your drive to be better. To be the best.

Competition is healthy. Especially when you’re winning against the rich brat who’s used to getting what she wants.

Not that you're petty.

Ehh…You are. But only a little bit. At least you can admit it.

Nel gets to work as well, the sunlight from his spot is great for drawing. He’s working on a rough version of his thesis project that’s due at the end of the year. He has to have multiple completed renderings as well as a scale model, and he’s been brainstorming since last year about what he wants to do.

Currently, he’s drawing up an airport, trying to design so that it’s not confusing and complicated for first time users.

However, his occasional swearing and muttering to himself makes you think he’s having a tough time with it.

You try not to laugh, but a small giggle slips out.

“What,” Nel asks, a little distracted.

“Nothing.”

“No really, what’s up? I could use a laugh right now,” he insists, eyes on you at first. But then something behind you steals their attention every few seconds.

Someone.

“You just…you still make funny sounds when you're frustrated with a drawing. It’s endearing.” You reach to place your hand on his knee, trying to gain back his full attention.

Ignore him, Nel. Please ignore him.

“Yeah...” he exhales. “I guess airports are out,” his hand covers yours quickly and you hear a faint chair screech from behind you. Nel doesn’t miss it as he says. “But I do have a much bigger appreciation and understanding for all those who came before me,” pupils now unmoving from their target behind you.

Fine.

You’ll acknowledge it.

“Is everything okay? You keep looking at something? Is there an animal or…” You know what he’s looking at, but go so far as to turn anyway, playing up the ‘confused girlfriend’ role. But Nel squeezes your hand, stopping you.

He leans in, placing a fake mask of serene on and lowers his voice. “That guy keeps looking at us, moreso you. And he looks pissed off.”

Fuck, think of something.

Anything. Anythi—Oh!

You lean in too, so close your noses almost touch. “He’s probably just upset we’re talking. The greenhouse cafe is usually a quiet place to work,” good enough, you think. That’s believable, right?. “It’ll be fine. Let’s just ignore him and get back to work.”

You place a quick kiss on his lips but Nel isn’t letting up on his unnecessary vigilance. But then again, he doesn’t know that Jungkook is the opposite of a threat to you. So you reassure him, in your own way.

“Babe, seriously. If you’re going to be all protective or whatever, don’t. I come here everyday when you're not here and I’m still alive and unharmed. Go get a sandwich or a refill to get your head off of it and say hi to Viv. She’s still here, and I’m betting she remembers you. You’re kinda hard to forget.”

You can tell Nel’s about to reject the idea when you insist. “I’ll be fine, Nel. Promise. Three years and not a scratch on me.”

He sighs through his nose, but relents.

Placing his drawing pad on the table, he gets up, but not before placing another kiss to your forehead and mumbling, “Scream ‘cumquat’ if you’re in danger and I’ll come running, okay?”

You laugh outright at that. “Will do.”

You watch him as he goes, and the second he’s inside, you’re racing for your phone, typing at an astounding speed.

You [1:45pm]: Didn’t your royal upbringing teach you not to stare so blatantly!??? Nel caught you

You hear a quiet ping from behind you followed by a small exhale that sounds more like a disguised chuckle.

PJK [1:45pm]: Yes.

You [1:45pm]: So you intentionally got caught?

PJK [1:45pm]: Maybe

You [1:45pm]: Shithead

PJK [1:46pm]: Rude

You [1:46pm]: You deserve it

PJK [1:46pm]: I know. I’m just making sure he’s treating you right. PJK [1:47pm]: and trying to see if he acts differently when he knows he’s being watched. He’s very protective you know

Jungkook saw the second Nel noticed he was watching you.

His posture changed from easy going to on alert. His hand went so quickly to yours on his knee and his public displays of affection increased significantly.

It was pathetic, really. It went above a normal amount of protection. Nel was claiming his ‘property’, making sure Jungkook knew not to touch.

And the nasty look Nel gave him as he entered the cafe—gratefully still unrecognizable in his disguise—was another silent way to say back off, stay away, and don’t try anything or you’ll regret it.

It was a red flag in Jungkook's mind. A small one, but it’s still there because his efforts are completely unneeded. After five years together, Nel should know that you can handle yourself.

Hell, Jungkook knows that and it’s only been two months.

You [1:47pm]: yes I know he is, and I already told you he treats me well because he always. Does. Not just in public or under watchful eyes You [1:48pm]: and since when does my boyfriend of half a decade need your ~princely~ seal approval?

He ignores the small jab. You only ever brought up his title when you were mocking or upset with him. And he knows that in this case it's the latter.

PJK [1:48pm]: Since now PJK [1:49pm]: And it’s not that I don’t trust you at your word, but I usually like to decide for myself

That has you reeling.

Where does he get the audacity to think he has any say in or about your relationship? Your very solidly built, five years strong, healthy, happy relationship?

Because he’s the Prince? You’re pretty sure you established on day one that you didn’t and still don’t give a fuck about his birthright.

If he thinks he gets an opinion on any of this he’s got another thing coming the second he asks you anything about Adaline again.

You’re in the middle of typing out a paragraph explaining all of this when another text comes in.

PJK [1:49pm]: Because I’ve seen far too many women in love who are blind to certain things PJK [1:50pm]: And far too many hurt in the end because of it.

You pause. Fingers frozen mid swipe.

Blind to what?

How many women did he know that were in love but missing something about their partner? Surely there couldn't be that many. Right?

But this was Jungkook you were talking to, he’s lived numerous lifetimes already. That fancy birthright of his you don’t care about having given him far too many life experiences to have at his age. And they’re only going to increase from here.

So instead of hitting send and cursing him out quite spectacularly, you stop and think for a moment.

What did he see that they didn’t?

That you might… not?

You’re a decent judge of character if your record tracks. And it does.

So your curiosity gets the better of you as you delete your rage paragraph and settle for a simple two word question instead.

You [1:50pm]: Like what?

You can see that he’s typing out a response but the bell on the cafe door rings and you put your phone down. It buzzes with his response a few seconds after.

You’ll check it later.

Nel takes his seat again, and you notice he has his sandwich, but also that he’s moved his chair and starts sketching from the new position giving him a direct eye line with Jungkook.

You internally scoff at that.

Nel has always been protective. But he was raised that way and you don’t mind too much. You don’t expect him to change his core values for you, just like he never expects you to change yours for him, even when a couple of his are just the slightest bit overbearing.

But that’s part of a relationship. Give and take and compromise. No one person is going to be perfect for another. It’s healthy to have differences.

That being said, Nel doesn’t change positions for the rest of the hour. Even as Jungkook packs up and leaves, Nel eyeballs him until he’s out of sight.

That night while Nel is brushing his teeth and you're lying in bed, you check the text from Jungkook.

PJK [1:51pm]: Like if they’re getting treated the way they should be or if they’re settling for the best they think they can get or for the first guy that showed interest. The one who hasn’t grown up even though time has passed. The one who’s holding her back by not setting her free

You stare at your phone. At the text. At his words.

And dismiss it.

You aren’t one of those women.

You know yourself.

You know what you deserve and how you should be treated. You didn’t settle, you just happened to find your love at a young age. That’s something special and rare and should be protected. And Nel has most certainly grown up as time passed.

Jungkook is being ridiculous for absolutely no reason. Surely he’ll have seen that today. Seen how Nel loves you, treats you how you deserve to be treated, holds you up. Supports you.

You’re confident he’ll be eating his words soon enough.

Finished brushing, Nel comes back to the bedroom and snuggles up behind you and you put down your phone.

He cuddles you for a minute before placing a kiss at your neck. Then another. And another before he’s mouthing up your neck, and sliding a hand up your thigh and to your waist. It pauses on your stomach with teasing caresses, before dipping lower and lower, beneath the fabric of your sleep shorts, and under the elastic of your underwear.

A small moan sounds in your throat at the touch. His fingers meeting your folds and the sensitive bundle of nerves at their apex.

You wanted this.

Need it.

He’s grown, you think; as a finger slips in you and you gasp at the stretch, legs opening wider for him. A second finger plunges in and you can feel yourself getting wetter and wetter with every thrust. Just like you can feel a bulge forming behind you.

You know what you deserve; as he uses them to scissor you open, making sure you’re ready. You roll over, now on your back with Nel over you as he pulls your shorts and underwear down to get better access, your own hands removing your shirt.

You’re not settling; as Nel moves down, tongue making a couple swipes at your entrance and you hiss in pleasure before he’s reaching over, grabbing a condom from the nightstand drawer and sliding it on, length hard and dripping at the sight of you bared before him.

Nel wasn’t the first guy who’d shown interest, just the first you’d said yes to; and he slides in. Both of you moaning at the snug fit.

“Fuck...” he says and you nod, agreeing, before pulling him down into a deep kiss.

He eases into a slow, steady rhythm that has you breathy and his abs tensing.

But it’s not enough. You need more. You need to erase these past two months without him, and take enough to last for the next two. It’s never enough, but you try.

“Faster baby,” you beg, “Please…faster.”

Nel isn’t holding you back. Jungkook doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about.

Nel picks up the pace and you start moaning, louder like you know he likes. Likes to hear he’s doing a good job. He’s grabbing your breast and sucking in a nipple, tongue swirling and you're bringing your hips to meet his with every thrust.

It feels good. It always feels good with Nel.

He was your first everything. First kiss, first intimate touch, first love.

Only love.

And he makes you feel good with that love. That touch. His kiss.

He makes you feel safe, inside and out.

Jungkook can go eat grass. He doesn’t know your relationship. Doesn’t know the first thing about it.

“There, right there!” you whine as Nel hits your sweet spot once and you arch. He tries again but misses, continuing faster, his peak coming quickly.

Jungkook can never understand what you two have. What you two have built in these five years. The understanding and security that comes with it.

He’s being an unrightfully opinionated ass on something he knows nothing about and—

Fuck! Why are you thinking about Jungkook? You’re having sex with Nel. You shouldn’t be thinking about anything or anyone other than that.

Than him.

So why can’t you get what Jungkook said out of your fucking head?

“Ahhh… oh fuck. I’m cumming.” Nel’s hips stutter, his face contorting in pleasure as he releases, filling the condom.

You kiss him passionately to rid yourself of your princely plagued thoughts, the ones filling you with unwanted and unnecessary doubt. You want them gone, gone, gone. Nothing but Nel in their place.

And you slip an, “I love you,” in between kisses for good measure.

Jungkook could never understand.

Nel kisses you back just as hard, dramatically slowing his thrusts, drawing out his high for as long as possible.

“I love you too.”

Jungkook doesn’t know anything.

Nel groans into your lips when it becomes too much and pulls out.

Removing and tying off the condom, Nel goes to the washroom to throw it out and starts the shower he knows you’ll be joining him for when you're done.

A routine you’re all too familiar with.

One you created.

He knows you need a few minutes to get yourself off.

You’ve never been able to cum from sex with a partner. No matter how hard you tried. No matter what you did.

Most would think Nel wasn’t a good lover or wasn’t trying enough, but it was through years of constantly trying anything and everything that you learned you just…couldn’t.

No amount of fingering or oral or penetration from your partner could make you orgasm.

So Nel knows to wait for you in the shower as you finish yourself off, your own fingers making quick work of it, because you always could for some reason.

It isn’t your ideal situation, and it isn’t anyone’s fault. But it works. You both get the intimacy you crave and you accepted a long time ago that you were just one of the unlucky few.

Screams fill Jungkook’s ears as a hand finds his hair and nails rake against his scalp.

Adaline isn’t a quiet receiver.

“Ohmygod!” She shouts for the twentieth time. “Yes! There…so goo-oohhhh,” the last syllable turning into a loud moan.

He’s holding her downwith a forearm by her pelvis, mouth full as he brings out her third orgasm of the night, juices flooding his tongue.

He’s working out earlier frustrations and proving a point to himself in this fucked up version of self therapy.

He shouldn’t be.

But he does.

Has to.

Seeing you today with Cornelius spurred feelings within him that he didn’t know he had. Sure, there were bits and pieces of something stirring he refused to name, but today?

They were in a whole different ballpark. Different than anything else he’s ever felt before, brewing inside him, bubbling up to the surface even though he’s been trying his best to pop them and shove them down.

Anger?

Feelings he doesn’t want to have.

Jealousy?

Does have.

Wanting you to look at him the way you look at Nel?

Can’t have.

Not for…

He admits he provoked Nel because he could. Dick move, but it was because Jungkook knew just by looking at him that giving you any form of attention would piss him off. He seemed the type.

Overly possessive, overprotective.

Overbearingly so.

Suffocatingly so.

Because Nel knows how lucky he is. That you chose him. That you still choose him.

He knows he has to keep others away.

Knows he isn’t good enough for you, holds you back. But keeps you anyway.

The selfish prick.

So Jungkook eyed you up and down, leisurely, and for as long as he wanted. Purely out of the need to prove to himself he was right about his little assessment of your boyfriend. At least that’s what he told himself.

Was it childish and unnecessary?

Yes.

But he was right. And that felt good.

He could see in your posture and your hushed words you didn’t want Nel’s protection, didn’t need it, and that Nel ignored that wish of yours. Did what he wanted to instead of respecting your ability to make decisions for yourself. Bulldozed your opinions.

It pissed Jungkook off.

He’d left a little while after sending you that text to read, but you never did. At least not since the last time he checked. And so he’d made plans with Adaline the second he was out of your earshot. Calling her up and setting a time for what’s currently taking up his primary focus.

Because even though it was Adaline underneath him, for the very first time, that’s not who he imagined it was.

Not who he just dragged a fourth orgasm out of with his fingers because he could.

Because he would. He would be so much better. Give so much more. If only…

Fuck.

Jungkook stands and drags his cock over Adaline’s entrance, whacking it against her clit a couple times before running the tip through her folds and pushing in. He hisses at the feeling. At who he was sinking into in his head, splayed out in front of him. Skin glistening with sweat mixed with arousal. Mouth open, slack jawed in pleasure.

Adaline moans loudly and it dissolves his visual.

His tattooed hand moves to hold her hands above her head, the other silences her mouth.

“Quiet now,” he whispers, low and deep. A bead of sweat dripping off his brow, hair sticking to his neck and temple.

He intends it to be sexy for her, but in reality, he’s just sick of hearing her. It’s ruining his mental image. Not that she’ll ever know that though.

To Adaline, this session is all about her and making her feel good.

But constant screams and loud, pornographic moans aren’t appealing to him in the slightest. They're taking him out of the mood. Making him soft.

Once or twice when it’s genuine? Sure. But the constant assault she loves to give his eardrums? Not even a little bit.

He sets a fast, rough pace, and Adaline’s eyes roll back in pleasure, screams finally subsiding in white hot bliss, replaced by bitten lips and smothered whimpers.

He is going to prove this point to himself over and over again. All night if he has to.

And he has to.

To get whatever it is he’s feeling for you out of his system.

To keep his sanity.

To forget.

And while it’s Adaline’s name is on his lips when he cums.

It’s not the name he repeats in his head like a prayer.

Chapter Seven: Hard Goodbyes and Favourite Colours

A/N 2: Thanks for waiting for this chapter. I'll try my best to have 7 out as soon as I can get it. I promise.

A/N 3: As always, Thank you for reading, loves. Xoxo - Yoon <3

<- Back

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causenessus · 9 months ago

Text

new grounds

part 0.6. TOXIC TRAIT . . . 1.5.2024

PLAYING IN THE CAFE . . . atomic vomit by steve lacy

it’s 10 o’clock. not in the afternoon, at night. she’s huddled in a corner next to keiji, the both of them leaning on each other and periodically dozing off and then shaking the other awake.

kageyama is a few feet away from her on her right, playing with his hands as they wait for their manager who is late as per usual.

yachi is a little more energetic, sitting a chair’s distance away on keiji’s side, swinging her feet as she scrolls on her phone. she giggles at something which draws all of their attention.

“akaashi,” she says, turning towards him. “do you want to tell me about this condom thing?”

“oh god,” keiji removed his arm from around y/n’s shoulder to cover his face with his hands.

y/n laughs as she sits upright in her chair, it had only happened a few days before, but it felt like forever ago.

“what more is there to say? keiji’s tweet summed it up pretty good,” she answers and keiji groans at the thought.

kageyama tries his best not to look as he listens. his phone is buzzing with texts from a group chat. his friends are trying to encourage him to talk to her after he told them she was here. but he can’t. instead, he’s on google researching condoms and microphones, something he never thought he’d be doing. ever.

then a bell chimes as the door opens and their manager walks in, a small corduroy bag around her shoulders over a white puffer jacket.

“happy holidays, sorry i’m late,” she slings off her bag as she talks.

everything is pointless here. they’re all pretending to listen to her as if they respect her and she’s pretending like she actually does her job. but maybe that’s all his opinion.

“this last year was pretty good. we lost some people but you’re all new additions and you’ve been handling this great. i help out when i need to, i accommodate when you guys need some days off…” it was slowly transitioning into statements about her, which she realized and quickly cleared her throat, pulling out a folder. “the only things i can say is you all need to do better about getting to work on time and calling out. if you’re all gonna call out one day at least tell me a day ahead or something. it’s not like i can stop you guys from doing it, just don’t make it a habit,” she sighs, running a hand through her hair. “i think that was all, if you guys can hang out here for 20 minutes more, we’ll all get paid extra. everything’s free today for you guys, so if you want anything just let me know and i’ll make it for you.”

y/n settles back down into her chair with a steaming chai latte, curling back up against keiji, whose sipping on a brewed green tea. yachi is happy with a hot chocolate, and kageyama has a mug of warm milk in his hand.

none of them want caffeine right now, it’s too late. they all just want to go home but they aren’t going to miss out on being paid just for sitting around.

but something bothers her about the fact that kageyama’s been on his phone this whole time. he keeps texting someone, she assumes, and for some reason that sits wrong with her. she wants to know what’s going through his head and who he’s talking to. a part of her wishes he would look at her, or ask how she’s doing.

maybe that’s asking for too much, it sounds comedic just thinking about it. he’s never talked to her more than he needed to. he’s never been one to say “how are you?” but maybe after her havoc on twitter, she thought he’d be more interested.

he's unlike anyone she's ever met, and maybe that's what makes her care so much. she's never cared so much about what anyone thought, or in garnering a simple look from them.

but he won't look at her and she can't predict how he's going to act, and she doesn't know how to handle that except by telling herself that she hates him.

“look at him,” y/n can’t help but whisper to the companion she’s leaning against, still facing towards the boy who’s mindlessly scrolling on his phone as he sips on his drink. “look at the state we’re in and he doesn’t even care. he hasn’t looked at us once.”

keiji raises his brows in surprise at her comment. what did it matter what he cared? but then he pieces it together.

“well, he’s seen me like this once at the beginning of the fall during our first show. but yachi’s right,” he gives her a sly smile as she tilts her head back, looking at him confused, “you really do care what he thinks.”

her face turns red at the thought and she immediately sits up, staring down into the swirling foam of her latte. “i do not,” she mumbles.

"i don't care," she whispers again. but she can't even bring herself to say it confidently.

prev. | m.list | next

extras <3

kageyama literally knew y/n would be at the celebration because it was a mandatory and he had overheard her talking about in their psych class once to a classmate but he wasn't actually prepared

he immediately opened up his gc when she walked in and said "she's here" and the gc subsequently blew up

my boy was literally texting about yn the entire night but she thought he was just on his phone </3

the gc was trying so hard to get her to talk to him and he had the nerve to say things like "she looks busy" "she looks tired" "she's laying against akaashi right now"

which is when hinata with all the love in the world but not the brightness of someone intelligent said he should spill a drink on them so that she wouldn't be laying on him anymore (literally not said with any malice he's heard from bokuto how cool he is)

yams screamed no in the groupchat and outloud...because tsukki, hianta and him were all in the same room texting the groupchat in silence

other than that hinata was going off with the advice and giving kageyama all the reasons why he could talk to y/n

y/n keeps looking at akaashi because she wants to open her mouth and express how she really feels about kageyama (which would come up as a jumble of undiscernible words) but doesn't know what he'll say so then she looks away

yachi can't work on sunday because she's going to an art auction!! <3 how coincidental

(also my brain for some reason really wanted to write the written part in the present tense for absolutely no reason which i was trying to fight and then got confused so hopefully it still flows ok </4)

taglist: @ncitygreen @lvrlamp @cherrypieyourface @mimi3lover @lees-chaotic-brain @frootloopscos @0moonii @cr4yolaas @eggyrocks @pinkiscool @httpakkeiji @localgaytrainwreck @lunaviee @kitty-m30w @lixie-phoria @aliruuiz @tartfrappe @corvid007 @iluv-ace @yvjitadori @k8nicole (form to be added to taglist! <3)

#kageyama tobio #tobio kageyama #kageyama x reader #kageyama smau #haiykuu smau #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #hq #hq x reader #ness' planet ⋆⭒˚.⋆

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chaoticace2005 · 1 year ago

Text

You guys asked for it…

Why Lilith might have left Lucifer:

1. She lost interest. Simple at that. 10,000 years of the same routine…

2. She found out where Eve was and ran to her long lost love.

3. A deal was made with Alastor and she had to flee for her nefarious plans.

4a. Lucifer was bad in bed.

4b. He wouldn’t let her take off his hat while having sex.

5. Lucifer was good in bed and she was getting addicted, so for her own sake she left.

6. She had to get milk.

7. She took a look at hell after all her years of working, saw how fucked up humans are and said “nah.”

8. Donald Trump became president so she fled the country but forgot to take her family with her.

9. She could no longer deal with Lucifer’s ~autistic swag~

10. She got a coupon for an expense-paid trip to the Bahamas.

11. Lucifer wasn’t doing the DAMN DISHES.

12. Lucifer kept asking her to “quack” in bed.

13. There weren’t any good marriage counselors in hell. So she read drama books to fix her marriage and thought this was the best solution.

14. Lucifer got a sleep apnea machine and she couldn’t handle it anymore.

15. She bonked her head and completely forgot who she was. That’s why she scowls when Lute says “Lilith” at the end- because she has no idea who “Lilith” is.

16. Seven years ago Alastor killed Lilith. To cover his tracks he put on a wig and visibly left the cast as “her.”

17. SOMEBODY wasn’t putting the damn seat down. Do you think they have to deal with this in Heaven?

18. There was a silent uprising and assassination plot. She dealt with it all while Charlie and Lucifer remained oblivious, but is now being hunted.

19. Faked her death. Lucifer is somehow unaware that his wife even “died.”

20. Niffty blackmailed her into leaving.

21. They ran out of blond dye at the Hellmart and she couldn’t handle being the only one in the family without blond hair.

22. She felt the need to leave her family, build a luxurious pirate ship, hire random pirates, and sail the seas until she had a homoerotic relationship with a competing pirate and retired.

23. She too borrowed 50 grand from loan sharks, stole a car, and crashed it into a loan shark’s girlfriend (but that bitch had it coming!)

24. She went down in an airplane.

25. Fried getting suntanned.

26. Fell in a cement mixer full of quicksand.

27. Her feather allergy kept getting worse and she had to leave for her health.

28. Lucifer kept saying he was “magic in bed” and then would do magic tricks despite being a LITERAL ANGEL.

29. Susan.

30. Committed tax fraud and had to flee the country.

31. She was going to get bottom surgery after Lucifer’s top surgery and is still recovering. (Hell doctors SUCK okay??)

32. Lucifer wouldn’t admit that water is wet.

33. Lucifer was putting ketchup on his pancakes.

34. Lucifer wasn’t vibing with her BFF-girlboss-malewife-bestie Alastor. She couldn’t deal with the ~drama~

35. He wouldn’t stop talking about his Fantasy Sports team.

36. Needed to find some artistic inspiration because the whole “I’m in hell” thing is SO overdone.

37. Not a fan of the circus or clowns.

38. Mental health break. She’ll come back when she’s ready. Sometimes it takes a while.

39. She was KIDNAPPED.

40. Lilith is dead. That’s not Lilith. That’s a shadow version of Lilith made by Alastor who works for her killer (Eve?) That’s why she wears sunglasses. So we can’t see her eyes and the empty void behind them.

#catch the dumb references #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel memes #stupid hazbin hotel lists #hazbin hotel crack #lilith hazbin hotel #lucifer hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #lilith morningstar

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bahrtofane · 11 months ago

Text

bruised knuckles

Jude x gender neutral!reader

While it’s not that surprising that a last minute party invite leads to a fight, Jude carrying you out was a little bit of an overkill

Word count - 1.5K+

Watch it - physical fight, pretentious male character, bruised knuckles mentioned like once. i am so unserious for writing this yall

—————

“That doesn’t make any sense though. “ You scoff idly playing with the rings adorning your fingers. Most gifts from Jude.

Speaking of, He sits next to you on a sleek black couch. The both of you got dragged away to some party by his teammates on what could’ve been a lazy weekend at home. He got a call way too early than what was socially acceptable on a weekend, (it was 10 am), and was begged to come along. You were already getting up groaning at the whining coming from his phone. Blame it on being half asleep or unaware but you both mumbled a promise to be there and went back to bed.

So here you are at a party hosted by god knows who in a now packed hotel, god knows where.

You know Jude doesn't like going to these. He calls them a poor excuse to show off and boost egos. You agree, it's all a ruse to see who can drop the most on champagne or bring the model with the most followers home. All just to have pixelated pictures of yourself blasted on social media

You couldn’t even call it a party to be honest, there’s a crowd jumbling together in an attempt to dance and music blaring from somewhere. It's more of a bad linkedin meetup. Dim lighting flickering poorly and cups strewn carelessly on the floor. It’s lame and you can’t wait to leave. His teammates that dragged the two of you here have long since abandoned the two of you to do.., actually you have no idea what any of them are here for, nor do you care.

You just continue to sip on your water and try to keep yourself entertained. It's not going very well.

The guy you're in conversation with sits on an identical couch across from you rolls his eyes, “Of course you don’t understand. I don’t expect you to understand the complexity of such a topic. “

Judes been pretty silent this whole time, watching the exchange. He understands you prefer to handle things yourself and respects that fully. He won’t take that away just to tell someone off. Though the second you ask he doesn't have a problem getting in anyone's face.

Now his hand moves to your thigh gently squeezing it, a warning to keep things in check for the night. He knows that you can get into more trouble than you care for sometimes. Spurring into action faster than you can actually process what you're doing.

You dont want to give him anymore bad press but holy fuck is this guy youre talking to an ass hole. You don't even know how he spotted you in the almost pitch black room. He smiled and asked for a picture with the two of you, and had gotten agitated when you declined.

“At least give me conversation.” He pleaded.

And so here you are. You regretted the choice about 20 minutes ago.

Your eyes narrow as you clench your teeth. “Listen I don't care for pretty arguments on topics that are in my jurisdiction ”

The man, who’s name you long forgot, just shakes his head and takes a long drink from his red solo cup.

“I seriously doubt that. You dress like that and expect anyone to take you seriously like come on. “ He snickers.

Jude tenses next to you and you try your best to calm the both of you down. Jude isn't one to start fights per say but he's not 6’1 (give or take) for nothing. Reputation be damned.

You breathe deeply trying to resist the urge to beat his ass right then and there. The cheap laser lights only make your head hurt. Jude rubs circles on your thigh, you settle for a quick response instead.

“What I wear doesn’t mean shit. I look good. What the fuck you have going for you? “

“A diploma ?? I don’t think you have one of those do you.”

Your patience is wearing thin, knee bobbing up and down harshly as you try and focus your attention away from him.

Jude stands, gently nudging your shoulder. It's time to leave. And you agree. No worth entertaining this any longer.

Just as you stand, taking Judes outstretched arm with a smile, setting your cup down on the table. You get one last retort that truly sends you reeling.

“Oh yeah walk away,” he begins, using his cup to point at you both. When you dont reply he chooses to get up, following you around the table and back into the dance floor.

“Let the money maker drag you away,” He yells, grabbing into your arm and yanking it back it almost knocks you off your feet“ So worthless compared to him you don't-”

You don’t let the man finish, rushing from your seat to slam him onto the floor. His drink splashes on your chest as you meet the slippery brown hardwood with a loud thud. Your body jerks with heavy force, ears ringing, but you don’t let up. Trapping his legs under your weight, one arm forcing his hands down while the other lands blows into his face. A crowd has gathered, you know that much, the bass that’s been shaking the floor has stopped as people are clamoring around to get a better look.

That all fades in the next few moments, passing in a blur as the man under you tries desperately to get up with no avail. You're clawing at whatever you can reach, tufts of his hair in between your fists while he yells so harshly you think his voice is about to give out.

He manages to land a kick haphazardly to your lower stomach, which makes you groan just enough for your grip to loosen and for him to begin to slip away.

Just as you get a good grip on him again you're lifted on the ground watching him skimper away, heaving deep breaths as he grips a couch arm rest. You thrash trying to slip away from the arms but you're caught all too soon. You're yelling at the man, spitting venom. Though the exact words are less clear at this point.

When you walk out from the blaring lights, you have half the mind to realize you're in a familiar set of arms. Wrapped around to keep you steady, swinging you over their shoulders. Jude.

The adrenaline rushes through you, blurring the party and its noise out of focus. You do realize you're heading down stairs and outside, the cool night air like a hotel AC on summer vacation, a little bit of an overkill. But it does good to bring you back to reality.

“You're going to get quite the reputation if you keep this up. “ He sighs, amusement in his voice.

You have half the mind to respond with a slap to his back. “Yeah well next time bitches need to know not to try me. A reputation wouldn’t even be that bad for me. Might be bad for you“

He pats your back gently and continues down the curb, softly setting you down when you reach your car. You lean against the passenger door, wiping the sweat off your face and checking for any major damage across your body. There are none, just bruising on your knuckles. Dude couldn’t even get one proper hit in. The aftermath of your actions sets in and you groan, rubbing your temples.

Jude gives you a small smile, gently taking your hand in his. You look at him fondly, if it weren’t for him you really don’t know what you would do at this point.

“I'm sorry. This is going to be all over twitter in an hour fuck.” You apologize.

“He deserved it. Doesn't matter what they say they weren't there.”

You shake your head, “i need to do better, this is just gonna come back to you. I guarantee you everyone was recording.”

“They can think and do what they want.”

“Jude…”

“No more talk of that. Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” taking your hands and giving then a once over.

“No baby. Im fine.”

“Thank god.”

“I'm really really sorry, love.” you mutter.

He fixes your outfit, gentle tucking and rearranging the fabric back into place. “I told you baby, it's really fine. He was disrespectful and passed the limit.”

“Do you think he'll press charges?”

“I'm not sure. But for now dont worry okay? I got you. He touches you first anyway”

“Okay,” you breath out.

“Eduardo’s getting your stuff, he’s gonna be here in a sec. “ He tells you softly.

You nod your head and lean onto his shoulder, “The carrying me out was a little bit of an overkill babe.” you play with the buttons on his shirt. Trying to find at least a little light in the situation.

He snorts, “if I didn’t you would’ve mauled the guy.”

You shrug in response. Maybe you should lay off parties for a while if they keep ending like this.

#jude x reader #jude x you #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham fanfic #jude x y/n #jude bellingham #bahr footy #jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham fluff #WE BACK YALL

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under-the-dirt · 1 year ago

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whispers.

HIIIII i just ate dinner #i also showered the other night which was super difficult #doing better but anyways this is a continuation of this and i might turn this into a full series who knows! the whispers series does sound cool asf. anyways, i feel drunk although the last time i drank was new year’s a few years ago (to my knowledge) but wtv

taglist: @mechmoucha @cloudyeventss

pairing: john price x fem!reader (no gendered pronouns, only like names eg. beautiful or lass)

tags: john price is so sexy, fingering, military inaccuracies, cum eating ig? john price smut, forced proximity, i can’t write accents, UNDER 13 DNI RAH

To say the next few weeks were awkward was an understatement. Every time you’d see Price around the base, you’d find yourself blushing and running off to do something else. He must’ve gotten tired of it, because the next time you were on a mission you were paired up with Price.

You guess it was a decent pairing, Gaz and Soap, You and Price. Except for the fact you could barely look at him, let alone have to share a safe house. He stood guard behind you while you worked on getting into the camera system to ensure Gaz and Soap’s safety.

“Soap, how copy?” You ask through the radio, hearing static before Soap’s smooth accent rang through.

“All good down here, same with Gaz. Splitting up now,” He replies, and you smile as you finally get into the camera systems, watching Gaz and Soap split up and go different directions.

“Alright, I’ve got a visual. Gaz, you’re going straight til’ the first right, then to the second door on the left. There will be a couple of hostiles, nothing you can’t handle,” You explain, and the static begins again before Gaz replies quickly.

“Roger that.”

“Good. Soap, you’re going straight until the second left then to the first door on the right. You should only have one man in there. Both of you radio silence unless there’s a problem, let me know when you’re there.”

“Sir yes sir,” Soap chuckles, and you watch both the men traverse the halls.

“What’s next?” Gaz asks, and your eyes widen slightly in surprise before quickly recovering.

“There should be a couple computers in there. Go to the ones in the back, plug in a USB to the 4 on the top row, and let me know once the intel has been fully downloaded. Soap, how copy?”

“Not good,” Is the brief response you get, and on the cameras you can see a group of men swiftly approaching him.

“Broom closet to your right, get in and stay quiet. Gaz, hurry up,” You tried to keep your words steady and calm, but you knew they probably picked up on the little bit of panic in them. When you saw more men marching towards Gaz, you knew you had to get them out of there. “Gaz, about 10 hostiles approaching. Take those USBs and get out of there.”

You shook your leg nervously as you watched Gaz grab the USBs and try and leave, being met with multiple hostiles. You stopped breathing entirely when you heard the gunshots, not daring to look. Price gently placed his hand on your shoulder.

“Soap, get your ass out of there!” Price yells into the radio, and you can hear the sounds of shuffling feet. It wasn’t until Price began rubbing your shoulder to assure you the men were okay did you open your eyes. They were uninjured, sure, but they were being chased by at least 20 hostiles.

You lost sight of them as they hopped onto the helicopter for exfil. There was no chance of you and Price getting on it, despite how close you were. It had already taken off.

“Shit,” You sigh. You tapped out of the cameras and walked to another room to take a breather.

A couple minutes later, price knocked on the doorway. “Good news ‘s we’re not trapped ‘ere. Bad news ‘s the base ‘s clogged up, and they can’t get a heli out ‘ere til’ tomorrow,” He says, and by his tone you can tell there’s more.

”And the worst news?”

“There’s no tea.”

“Not to quote soap, but Fuckin’ brits,” You laugh softly. “What is it?”

“There’s only one bed.”

“Oh,” You sigh, and shake your head. “I can take the floor.”

Price walks out, and you’re left to your own devices until the sun begins to set and you feel exhaustion begin to settle deep in your bones. Taking this as a sign to get ready for bed, you hop up and walk to the bedroom, where price is sitting on the bed in a t-shirt and his green cargo pants. God, that outfit made him look so good.

“‘S rude to stare, lass,” He purrs, chuckling softly.

“Oh, sorry,” You quickly look away and begin stripping your extra gear, all that which you hadn’t previously. You were now in a tank top and black cargos, and you shivered slightly. You definitely underestimated how cold it got at night here. “Is there any extra blankets?”

“Not that I can find,” He shrugs, tossing you an extra pillow. You fake it and toss it onto the floor beside the bed, curling up to preserve warmth as you close your eyes and try to fall asleep. You hear Price flick the lights off and climbs into the creaky bed. You shiver. “Cold?”

“Very.”

“C’mere, lass,” He coos, pulling the covers away from himself and inviting you into his arms. After a little hesitation, you crawl into his arms and press yourself to his chest. He wraps his arms around you, and his body heat warms you up far better than any amount of blankets could. But still, it’s terribly cold, and not even the living furnace that is John Price can warm you up fully. “Still cold?”

You nod. “It’s alright though, I can manage.”

“No.. Let me help you..” He purrs, running his hand down your side, quickly helping you realize how he means to. He sees no discomfort, so he runs his hand down to tour ass and gives the plump flesh a squeeze.

“Captain..” You sigh, melting into him and his touch, and he hums. His hands caress you gently before sleeping beneath the hem of your pants and panties. He runs a finger through your slick folds, chuckling when he feels the wetness gathered on them.

“Ah, what have we got ‘ere,” He laughs, pressing his thumb to your clit, causing you to let out a hushed moan. “Don’t keep quiet, I wanna hear ya.”

He rubs your clit gently, before pressing a single finger into your wet hole. The stretch of his large finger makes you gasp and rock forward gently, closing your eyes to soak in the pleasure. He hums in approval, gentle thrusting his finger, curling it to rub that spot inside of you that had you arching your back and moaning for more. He obliges, thrusting another thick finger into your desperate cunt.

“Ah- Captain.. God-“ You moan breathlessly, rocking your hips to meet his brutal thrusts. He returns to attacking your g-spot, causing that knot in your stomach you barely noticed to snap and send you toppling over the edge, moaning and gripping his shirt tightly. He rubs your clit gently to let you ride out your orgasm before slowly removing his fingers and sucking your juices off.

“Much better, no?” He chuckles, gently pushing away the hair stuck to your forehead with sweat. Your eyes are already closed as you regain your breath, falling asleep quickly.

The next day you pray that your guilty smile didn’t reveal last nights.. actions. But the odd look flicked at you from Mactavish told you that it hid nothing, and it was written in neon lights exactly what happened. That would be hard to explain.

that was sm fun to write and i can’t wait to see how this series progresses. i’m gonna make a masterlist, comment to be tagged in the next one! <;3 @cloudyeventss

#call of duty #cod x reader #cod #cod mw2 #cod smut #captain john price #captain price #john price #call of duty x reader #john price x reader #john price cod #captain john price x reader #call of duty modern warfare #mw2 #mwii

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airaibunny · 2 years ago

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THREESOME SMUT PROMPTS

1. “i see how you look at my girlfriend”

2. “are you just going to watch us?”

3. “do you want to watch me punish her?”

4. “why don’t you lay on her while i go down on you?”

5. “let us take care of you”

6. “you think you could handle us at the same time?”

7. “sit on her face while i play with her”

8. “let’s go take a bath”

9. “open wider, i can’t see how pretty she looks eating you out”

10. “you guys always use me like a toy, it’s my turn”

11. “please touch me, like you touch her”

12. “sorry we made you upset, let us make it up to you”

13. “no, she was bad, now she just gets to watch”

14. “does watching us fuck turn you on?”

15. “could you get off just by watching us?”

16. “i can make her cum quicker than you”

17. “do you want to help us settle a bet?”

18. “we both really like you”

19. “why are you both being such brats right now?”

20. “she let me practice on her, for you”

21. “play with each other, i want to watch”

22. “if nobody is going to confess, i’ll punish you both”

23. “if you won’t do it, i’ll get *name* to”

24. “princess, do you want to help me punish her?”

25. “c’mon, she’s asking you to kiss her so nicely”

26. “what do you think? does she deserve to cum?”

27. “i want us all to get off at the same time”

28. “mommy” - “*both*yes?”

29. “close your eyes and try to guess who’s touching you, we’ll let you cum if you guess correctly”

30. “do you like making us mad?”

31. “we’re not done yet, i’ve barely touched you”

32. “stop until she does what i’m telling her to”

33. “she’s doing so great, right? why don’t you tell her she’s doing a good job?"

34. “aw, started without me?”

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99solaris · 11 days ago

Text

forgotten • droid

pairing: elasticdroid x gn!reader wc: 4k warnings: angst, frustrated arguements, mentions of death scare (no actual injury or death happens), no resolve song pairing: slow dancing in a burning room by john mayer a/n: brick was kissed before i threw it at your head <3

You don't know how long you have been staring at the front door. You could probably point out every flaw of it, the dents, the scratches, anything. By now, it might as well be imprinted onto the inside of your eyelids. Eyes flicking from door to the handle, you feel as if its mocking you, your own brain conjuring up phantom movements paired with imaginary sounds of the clinking of keys. Hoping it will open soon and stop the plague upon your mind - but it never happens.

From the dinner table, you keep your eyes on the door. Your friends at the table have noticed your absence from the conversations flourishing an hour ago but they kept it going, not wanting to make it worse for you, and yet;

Someone from the friend group sighs loudly, hands up in defence and decides to take initiative to speak up: ''If you stare harder, you might burn a hole in the middle of it,'' a comment that earned a small snicker around the table before they spoke up again, ‘’I don’t think he’s coming.’’

All turn their attention to them, the person next to them elbows them in their side muttering a just audible ‘’don’t be rude’’. It's a statement that has been on everyone's mind for while now. It’s quiet around the table, eyes scanning the company, switching back forth to the person opposite them to then you. Looking for any response but you can’t even bear to pry your eyes away from the front door and look them in the eye. Picking at the skin around your fingernails, playing with the table decor with the other hand - anything to keep you from meeting their gaze.

‘’He will be here any minute,’’ you manage to get out, a slight quiver in your voice that, with a weak attempt, try to hide with a quick smile that falters as fast as it was put on. Shoulders slumping as your eyes go warm and tears pricking at the corners. ‘’I know he will.’’

Somewhere, Jaime, to others known as Droid, is at Puffer’s house filming content for the podcast and extra material for Patreon, ultimately deciding to stay longer after Puffer requests they could order out and eat dinner together. He hasn’t been looking at his phone for hours, completely obvious to the messages and calls from you and your friends. When they finally wrap it up it’s 10:51pm. As he grabs his jacket he sighs, knowing he’s getting way later than he had promised. He pulls out his phone that’s been in his back pocket on Do Not Disturb, so as to not ruin filming, he notices the many notifications. Emails, Instagram, 20 calls, 15 messages. All messages following the same pattern: ‘’Dude, where the fuck are you?’’ and ‘’Hey asshole, are you really trying to win the title of worst boyfriend of the year? Cuz you might win it.’’

He’s about to text them back about what they mean by all that, seeing as he didn’t believe he had done anything wrong - maybe it was a prank? A stupid one at that, he points out to himself, since he always prides himself in the role of being someone’s partner. But as he goes to answer, he sees your name pop up under unread messages:

4:34pm - Mi Amor: Hope filming is going good but don’t have too much fun without me (like that is possible!!!) I’ve decorated the place to the best of my abilities, ready for the guests to arrive!! [2 images attached]

5:19pm - Mi Amor: Guests are coming soon.. are you running late? I can probably delay food till you get here. Let me know!

6:54pm - Mi Amor: Honey, are you alright? Can you text me anything so I know you’re alive? You are scaring me..

Reading the texts feels like a punch to the gut. He feels sick to his stomach as he stares at the pictures: A ‘’Happy Birthday!’’ banner, confetti hanging from the ceiling, a table decorated - all the stuff you had dragged through the door in multiple bags, pulling out every item beaming with pride and grinning ear to ear about how excited you were to use the new decor for the occassion. The second picture, you standing in front of the banner, striking a pose between number balloons. His face drops and a chill runs up his though his body feels like it's burning. Fuck. Shit. One hand running through his hair, tugging at the ends, the other clutching his phone. Your birthday. It’s your fucking birthday.

‘’Hey man, you good? You’ve been standing there for like a solid 10 minutes just freaking out, dude,’’ the voice of Grizzy from behind him makes him jump. His eyes leave his phone screen and Grizzy is quick to notice the glazed over eyes. ’’Whoa, hey, what’s wrong dud-’’ ‘’I’m a fucking asshole,’’ he cuts him off quick, ‘’It’s my girl’s birthday.’’ His voice breaks, knowing the judgement he could be facing from his friends and most importantly, you. Grizzy's mouth forms an ‘o’ and eyes widen, ‘’Fuck dude, it’s late!’’ he exclaims, earning the attention of the rest of the crew, poking their heads out in the hallway. Jaime rubs his face, ruffling his hair with a heavy sigh putting his phone in his pocket again. ‘’You better go home now, she’s for sure pissed at you.’’ Jaime doesn’t respond but throws on his jacket, shoving his feet into his shoes and half-assed tying them, putting on his helmet and running out the door.

At home, the guests started leaving the house around 9pm. Despite the situation, you had tried to make the most of it, even though the energy wasn’t really there for you, or anyone even, to try and make it anything other than what it was. You had attempted to join in on the conversations, had the chances of snickering to a few of the jokes cracked and even with a dampened appetite, ate the food you had spent precious hours and valiant effort to make. When it got to saying your goodbyes to the guests, all of them saying their farewells followed by heartfelt yet empty apologies of how sorry they felt by your boyfriend’s actions on your day, you were unbelievably tired. From keeping your hopes up about Jaime coming home or your friend’s endless support, you didn’t know. You couldn’t hate them though. They were only trying their best to help you but it only irked you, every time being reminded of the longing you had for Jaime to be here at that very minute. His arm slung around your shoulders as he fires off the last jokes he had left in him of the evening, the sound of his laughter vibrating in chest and bounces off the walls, the both of you waving goodbye. But he isn’t there. It’s just you, alone at the door, hug after hug, reassuring arm squeezes, soft, small back rubs from your friends.

‘’When he gets here,’’ a friend starts while putting their shoes on, ‘’you tell him to do better than this shit show.’’ You nod meekly watching them get ready and as they finish up, give your cheek a friendly small peck and walk out the door. You watch as they back out of the drive-way and drive off, standing there for a good minute, just in case he decides to turn up at the last second. Still nothing. You close the door reluctantly, lock it and turn around to face the empty, silent house. Walking towards the living room, you see how the confetti is giving up its hold on the ceiling and falls to the floor. You give a half-hearted snort to how absurd it is, somehow seeing yourself reflected in the action. There is food left in respective pots and pans, half filled glasses of different coloured liquids. You look at the two plates of food you had saved for Jaime, something you’ve always done for him, knowing how bad he can be with scheduling his own time.

So, you occupy yourself. You start cleaning up. Washing dishes, glassware, utensils, empty pots. Removing table decor. Pulling at the leftover confetti on the ceiling, deflating the balloons for good, tugging at the banner from the wall, feeling a frustration bubble in your chest. You gather it all and throw it all into a trash can, noticing how your chest is heaving. In the trash can is all the time and effort you had spent on making today special. A collection of the money that has been wasted on not having used its full potential. And it hurts. It hurts so much, you feel your knees buckle beneath you, sinking to the floor. The tears are building up, tears shake in the dam of your eyes, blurring your vision. It all feels too much and the silence in the house feels so loud in your ears. You clutch at the fabric of your clothes as you can feel it all building in your throat. You want to hold it back but you can’t. The sob tumbles out from your mouth and it doesn’t stop. Sobs are racking your body and you feel like your head is going to implode from the sheer volume of it. The tears are falling freely and they feel hot on your cheeks. You feverishly wipe at your face, hand on your chest trying to regulate your breathing but it’s all to no avail. Curled up, on the floor, you sit there and let it all out, grief of the events and the uncertainty of your boyfriend’s fate.

When Jaime finally gets back to the house it’s 11:24pm. He’s nervously chewing on the inside of his cheek, fumbling with the key to unlock the door. Shaky hands try to steady themselves as he unlocks it, cautiously pulling at the handle, his eyes pressed shut awaiting the outburst. But when he walks in and closes the door behind him, it’s eerily quiet. He opens his eyes to a dimly lit house where you wouldn’t have guessed a birthday had been held. He carefully pulls off his jacket and shoes, placing his helmet on the shelf before he moves further into the house. ‘’Amor?’’ he calls out softly as he scans the house for your figure. He notices the saran wrapped plates of food on the kitchen table, a clear sign of you having been waiting out for him. His heart was already heavy but this surely added even more weight that it felt like he could sink into the floor right then and there.

He turns around towards the living room and notices a lump on the couch. You, sleeping on the couch. Somehow having managed to crawl from the floor onto a softer surface and passed out. He maneuvers around the room and around the couch to squat down next to you, taking in your peaceful state of soft snores, always finding it so endearing to watch you. He slowly reaches a hand up to gently place on your cheek, thumb rubbing the soft skin beneath.

‘’Babe?’’ he whispers, noticing the slight change in breathing. He calls again, just a bit louder, which manages to wake you up. Eyes fluttering open but not fully, the dim light of the room enough to make you squint. With furrowed eyebrows you try to make out the figure in front of you, eyes sore from the amount of crying you had done earlier. It’s first when you register the gentle caress on your cheek and the familiar smell of cologne it connects in your head and the knot in your chest returns.

‘’I don’t want to talk to you,’’ you croak out and Jaime notices it instantly, hitting himself over and over in his head because if there is anything he never wanted to happen, it’s you crying over something he had done.

‘’Babe, please,’’ he says as you move to sit up, groaning slightly from the ache in your body of a mixture of laying on the floor, sleeping position and how overworked your chest has been. He carefully places his hands on your knees, nearly hovering over the fabric, ‘’please, I am sorry.’’ He sounds so sincere and it aches but it is replaced by annoyance.

‘’Sorry?’’ you reply through gritted teeth, swatting at his hands that he nearly loses his balance. You stand up from the couch and he follows suit, your faces mere inches away from each other. ‘’You’re sorry?’’ you repeat, pushing at his chest, ‘’a sorry is not going to cut it, Jaime.’’ Your skin feels hot and there’s a prickly feeling in your hands. You shook your head as you turned away from him and moved a small distance away from him. ‘’Recording extended over time and Puffer asked if I wanted to stay for dinner and-’’ he tried explaining himself but was cut off by you. ‘’Stay for dinner? Oh! So, my birthday dinner wasn’t good enough or what?’’ your voice has raised a fair bit, edging on yelling but you don’t want to go there. A promise to yourself that yelling doesn’t solve any issues.

‘’You know that’s not what I meant,’’ he says, hands hanging by his side in defeat, ‘’I just thought I might as well since we were having fun and I was there-’’ ‘’You promised you would be here today, Jaime!’’ you say, voice cracking a bit at the end of the sentence, ‘’It is, or at this point, it was my birthday!’’. You wrap your arms around yourself, grounding yourself as much as you can, finding it hard when the issue of the uncomfort is standing in front of you. ‘’You promised this morning,’’ you say, taking a deep breath before continuing, ‘’I sent you messages hours before just to make sure, even our friends did, no one heard from you! You basically ignored me the whole day,’’ you pick up speed, everything tumbling out as your voice starts to tremble, ‘’And worse is, you could’ve been in a horrible crash or even dead for all I know!’’. His heart skips a beat at the anguish he had put you through, knowing how you’ve made it clear to him, nearly swear on his life, that you want him to text whenever he’s going for a ride and when he’s safe at the location. ‘’And all you can say… is that you’re sorry?’’ you end with another well of tears teetering on spilling, near burning your eyes from soreness.

Jaime knows you’re angry and rightfully so, he gets it completely but it also pisses him off how you’re picking at him and you won’t let him utter a word into the conversation, so without much thinking, he decides to speak: ‘’I forgot, okay?’’.

And right then and there, he knew he fucked up. He sees how your whole figure slump, the arms that once held your frame falling to your sides, how your face twists from annoyance to hurt. He sees the tears welling up in your eyes, how you start picking at the skin around your nails, he knows that your brain is in alarm mode. And that’s when your lips start to quiver and the tears start falling as you raise your hand to cover your mouth. He hears a cry that shatters his heart, escaping your lips and takes a step forward towards you, but you take a step back with the other hand reaching out in front of you to tell him to keep his distance. You feel as if the whole room is spinning and your heartbeat is thumping loud in your ears.

‘’N-no, baby, babe, hey,’’ he sputters, stumbling over his words, ‘’I didn’t mean that, you know I didn’t mean to say that, fuck, sorry, I shouldn’t have said that-’’ ‘’You forgot?’’ you choke out, ‘’do you even care about me?’’. He’s quiet, dumbstruck, thinking of how he can get himself out of this hole he has dug himself into. It feels like ages as you two stand there in the living room, only accompanied by the sound of Oso’s yawning and the low buzz of the lit lamps. You are about to leave, saying that tonight is enough and you just want to sleep but his voice stops you.

‘’I do,’’ he manages to utter, ‘’I do care,’’ a lump forming in his throat as his eyes glaze over for the second time that day. Jaime places his hands on his chest, calming his own breathing and the thumping of his heart. He can not afford to lose you, not now. ‘’Listen, okay, you’re so important to me,’’ he starts, ‘’there’s barely a minute where I don’t think of you-’’ ‘’But you forgot me today,’’ you interrupt and he sighs, looking up at the ceiling before locking eyes with you again. ‘’Yes, I forgot today and I know that it makes me a giant asshole,’’ he continues. ‘’Oh really?’’ you sarcastically mention and he could say something back, but he chooses to leave it there and keeps going: ‘’I was too caught up in recording and I didn’t have my phone on me and I know these are bad excuses but you have to believe I would never mean to hurt you and especially not like this.’’

Your eyes are closed, head turned away from him, the tears drying on your cheeks. You know he’s telling the truth and you want to believe, but how it looks right now, it’s getting harder to trust it. ‘’You are barely here,’’ it comes out as a whisper, faltering at using any power left in your voice as you voice the concern that has been harbouring in your chest, ‘’I mean, you are here, but you aren’t here, with me.’’ You wipe the already dry tears away, brushing the hair out of your face, ‘’If you aren’t recording something at Puffer’s house, then you’re in the office recording or spending hours on streaming,’’ you sniffle, ‘’and I know that it’s your job and you love your job,’’ you explain and it pains you to admit it, ‘’and I knew what I got into when I agreed to be yours and move in but,’’ you sigh, turning your head to face finally face him but not daring to make eye contact, not yet, so you suffice with looking at the wall behind him, ‘’sometimes, I just wish that I was as important to you as your job is.’’

He’s listening intently, nodding along to your words, knowing all that you’re saying is true – he’s just been too blind to see it lately. His hands lift from his chest and his arms open in an open invitation to a hug. It’s an attempt at most, since he’s not even sure it will work and he does notice how you hesitate. You haven’t forgiven him, yet, your body moves as if you are like two magnets. The steps towards him feel so heavy. Stopping just right in front of him, you can feel the body heat radiate off of him and from here, you can see how red his eyes are from the tears that have fallen from his eyes. It’s like looking into your own eyes, who might as well be as puffy and red as yours. ‘’Don’t take this as an apology,’’ you say and he nods. He knows.

You lean in, wrapping your arms around his waist as he engulfs you in his, holding on to you as if you are his only life line. You hide your face in his chest, taking in the comforting smell of him as he rubs his hand up and down your spine. ‘’I really am sorry,’’ he mumbles into your hair, ‘’I am such an idiot.’’ His hold on you tightens slightly, placing a kiss on the top of your head as he completely lets go. His body goes against his own will as his chest starts to rise and fall at a faster speed, hiccups getting caught in his throat. You know he’s holding back. ‘’It’s okay,’’ you murmur against the fabric of his hoodie. Not an acceptance of his actions but a confirmation that he can let go. And he does.

His head falls from the top of your head, burrowing itself into your neck as he weeps, whining half-intelligible apologies mixed with continuous ‘’I love you’s’’. Hands grabbing whatever they can as if to make sure you wouldn’t leave him. When he has calmed himself enough, you slowly move your hands to take a hold of his head, placing two careful hands on either side of his face and you take it all in. The red eyes and nose, the tear stained cheeks, his hair completely disheveled. He’s biting down on his lip, haltering the tremble that’s coursing through his body as he awaits your next action. He looks crushed, absolutely ruined and absolutely beautiful. Your heart softens a bit seeing the man in front of you. You slowly brush away the hair from his forehead, placing a gentle kiss to it and his eyes flutter shut for a moment, a stray tear falling. Despite it all, he is still the man you fell in love with. ‘’I’m sorry,’’ he whispers, lip quivering and it sounds so earnest it’s painful.

‘’I’ll try to be better,’’ he says, reaching his own hands up to cover yours, ‘’I mean it, I’ll do anything, really, like, I can set up a couch close to my set-up so you can be there next to me when streaming or, uh, I can dial it down, ya' know? Less streaming and all that.’’ You shake your head at his efforts, trying to give him the slightest of smiles you could muster. ‘’I can’t tell you what the solution is,’’ you say softly, studying his eyes for any reaction, ‘’not right now, at least, but we will figure something out.’’ His mouth forms a thin line as he nods, not quite satisfied with the response, wanting to fix this issue more than ever. Neither of you say much after that, taking in the silence around you and looking at each other, exchanging minor smiles as he rubs his thumb on your hands, still pressed against his face.

‘’Will you hate me if I say it again,’’ he questions, trying to make a crack at the tension and it works, enough to make you do a small laugh and he smiles from hearing it, having missed the sound. ‘’I am sorry,’’ he repeated, taking a hold of your hands and lacing his fingers with yours. ‘’I know,’’ you respond with a nod. No one says anything but like a silent question hanging in the air you both know the answer to, you both start moving to the bedroom with your hands still linked to each other. At the bed, you both get rid of the worn clothes and climb under the covers. You scoot closer to him, intertwining your legs with his. With cautious movements, he raises his arm to let you lay flush against each other. You get as close as possible, his arm wrapping around your frame and pulling you even closer. Your arm maneuvers its way under covers and the weight of his arm, placing a hand under his shirt on the small of his back. He hums low at the contact, nuzzling his nose against your head and places a kiss along your hairline.

There you lay, chest to chest, limbs intertwined, listening to each other’s breath, feeling the heat radiating off of each other. Something that is so comforting that you could fall asleep in an instant, but before you get the chance, you hear him trying to clear his throat, followed by a hushed but audible: ‘’I love you.’’ You don’t respond immediately, taking the chance to move your head from his chest to look up at him. His eyes are closed but not asleep. You lean up, to the best of your capabilities from your current position, brushing your lips against his. Soft, careful, attentive. He’s wary but responds with the same motion. ‘’I love you too, honey,’’ you murmur against his lips before returning to your previous position, finally feeling a somewhat sense of relief. The exhaustion rolled over both of you quickly, falling asleep in each other's arms.

You'll figure it out. You always do.

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