#dad just made me coffee without me asking | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

carnalcrows · 9 days ago

Text

BABYSITTER - THE SALESMAN

pairing: the salesman x male reader

synopsis: When a broke college student takes a babysitting gig, he signs up for snack time and bedtime stories—but ends up with bloodstains, cryptic employers, and an unsettling crush on the kid’s disturbingly hot dad.

content warnings: 18+, bottom male reader, blackmailing, blood, anal, breeding, creampie, missionary, mating press, dubcon, mentions of kidnapping, too much plot

word count: 5.2k (good lord)

It was a typical Wednesday afternoon when you found yourself perched in the corner of the campus café, a half-empty cup of cold coffee sweating onto the table beside your laptop. Bills, tuition, and the general weight of adulthood had a way of pressing down on your shoulders, leaving you in a constant state of mild panic. You scrolled through job listings with the desperation of someone clinging to a lifeboat.

Barista? You had already been rejected twice due to your “lack of experience.”

Retail? They wanted you available on weekends, which wasn’t feasible with your study schedule.

Dog walker? Allergic to fur.

The list grew more depressing as the minutes ticked by, until one particular post caught your attention:

"Babysitter needed. Flexible hours. Payment upon services rendered. Serious applicants only."

There was no company name, no attached image of a smiling family, not even a hint about the age of the child you’d be babysitting. The simplicity of it screamed sketchy, but the promise of payment dangled in front of you like a carrot on a stick.

“Desperate times,” you muttered, clicking on the post.

The application form was equally bare-bones, asking only for your name, availability, and a short paragraph about why you wanted the job. You quickly typed something generic about being responsible and good with kids, then hit send without much hope.

To your surprise, you received a reply almost immediately.

"You’re hired. Start tomorrow at 3 PM. Address: [Redacted]."

You stared at the screen, bewildered. No interview? No background check? Either this was the world’s most desperate parent, or you were walking into a scam. A friend texted you moments later, asking if you’d found a job yet, and you decided to leave out the details when you replied,

"Yep, starting tomorrow."

The afternoon sun was scorching as you made your way up the steps of the quaint suburban house. The place had a sort of storybook charm—a neat lawn, pastel shutters, and a small porch swing swaying lazily in the breeze. If it weren’t for the suspiciously vague job listing you’d answered, you might have thought you were walking into a feel-good rom-com instead of a potentially shady situation.

You knocked on the door and waited. Seconds ticked by. You shifted awkwardly, glancing over your shoulder as if expecting hidden cameras. But just as you were about to knock again, the door flew open with surprising force, revealing a little girl standing barely taller than the doorknob.

“Hi!” she exclaimed, her voice so cheerful it nearly gave you whiplash. “Are you the babysitter?”

“Uh… yeah,” you replied, startled by the sheer intensity of her enthusiasm. “That’s me.”

“I’m Su-an,” she said proudly, puffing out her chest. “Come in! I was just having a meeting with my council!”

Before you could even ask what she meant, she grabbed your hand and tugged you inside. The house was warm and cozy, if a little cluttered, with toys scattered across the floor and crayon drawings taped haphazardly on the walls.

---

“This is Mr. Snuggles,” Su-an announced, holding up a ragged teddy bear with one ear chewed off. “He’s the president of my council.”

“Uh-huh,” you said, nodding solemnly. “And what does the council do?”

“Important stuff,” she said, narrowing her eyes like she was letting you in on a state secret. “Like deciding who gets cookies after dinner. Also, they voted to make you the assistant.”

You blinked. “I don’t remember running for office.”

“Well, you didn’t,” she said matter-of-factly. “But Mr. Snuggles said you looked like you’d be good at it.”

Before you could protest, she shoved the bear into your hands and pointed to a tiny table covered in a chaotic mix of crayons, plastic teacups, and a single half-eaten cookie.

“Sit,” she ordered. “The council meeting is starting!”

---

The rest of the afternoon unfolded in a whirlwind of nonsensical games and increasingly bizarre “council decisions.” At one point, you were ordered to wear a paper crown (which barely fit) and were dubbed the “Official Snack Prince.” Your royal duties included distributing Goldfish crackers and ensuring everyone—stuffed animals included—got an equal share.

“You’re actually pretty good at this,” Su-an said, eyeing you critically as you handed Sir Fluffington his crackers. “Better than my last babysitter.”

“Oh?” you asked, curious. “What happened to them?”

“They couldn’t handle the council,” she said gravely.

---

After the meeting adjourned, Su-an decided it was time to “train” you in the art of hide-and-seek. You played along, even though she kept hiding in the same spot: under the dining table, her giggles giving her away every single time.

“Found you again!” you said, crouching down to peer under the table.

She gasped, genuinely shocked. “How are you so good at this?!”

“It’s a gift,” you deadpanned, earning another round of giggles.

---

When hide-and-seek got old, she declared it was “dance party time.” She dragged you to the living room, where she plugged in her favorite playlist on an ancient speaker. The first song was a pop hit you vaguely recognized, and before you could even protest, she was already twirling around like a whirlwind.

“Come on!” she yelled over the music.

“I don’t dance,” you started, but she shot you a look so devastatingly adorable that you had no choice but to join in.

What followed was ten minutes of the most ridiculous dancing of your life. Su-an moved like she was powered by pure chaos, flailing her arms and jumping around, while you attempted something resembling the robot. She laughed so hard she tripped over her own feet, and you had to catch her before she face-planted into the couch.

---

As the day wore on, you found yourself genuinely enjoying her company. She was smart, funny, and had the kind of boundless energy that made you wonder if kids ran on caffeine instead of juice boxes.

By the time bedtime rolled around, you were exhausted. Getting her into pajamas was an ordeal—she insisted she couldn’t sleep without her “lucky socks,” which turned out to be mismatched and buried at the bottom of her toy chest. When you finally tucked her in, she stared up at you with wide, sleepy eyes.

“Will you come back tomorrow?” she asked, clutching Mr. Snuggles to her chest.

“Yeah,” you said, smiling. “I’ll be here.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

---

As you made your way back downstairs, you felt a surprising sense of accomplishment. Babysitting wasn’t what you’d imagined yourself doing, but something about Su-an’s infectious energy and genuine joy made it worth it.

You tidied up the living room, stepping over plastic dinosaurs and rogue crayons, and couldn’t help but laugh to yourself. If every day was going to be like this, maybe this job wouldn’t be so bad after all.

---

And so, your days with Su-an became a routine. Every afternoon, she greeted you at the door like an excited puppy, launching into a new scheme or game. One day, she decided you were a dragon and she was a brave knight. The next, you were her art teacher, helping her draw increasingly absurd animals like “dog-o-sauruses” and “cat-icorns.”

One particularly memorable day, she tried to teach you how to braid her hair. It did not go well.

“Why are there so many strands?!” you groaned, your fingers tangled in her hair.

“It’s easy!” she said, giggling. “You just go over, under, over, under!”

“You sound like a cryptic math teacher,” you muttered, earning another round of giggles.

---

The days passed in a blur of laughter and chaos, and soon, you found yourself looking forward to your afternoons with Su-an. She made you forget about your stress, your bills, and your endless to-do list.

Still, a question lingered in the back of your mind: where was her dad during all of this? But for now, you were content to let the mystery be. After all, it was hard to worry about much when you had a six-year-old demanding you be her “Royal Snack Advisor.”

It was one of those rare evenings when the air felt just right—not too cold, not too warm, with a soft breeze that carried the faint smell of grass and distant barbecues. Su-an had begged to go to the park after dinner, and you’d caved, eager to get some fresh air and give her a chance to burn off her endless energy.

“Push me higher!” Su-an squealed as she swung back and forth, her legs pumping excitedly. You stood behind her, laughing as you gave the swing a gentle push.

“Higher, huh? What are you trying to do, touch the clouds?”

“Maybe!” she shouted, giggling as the swing reached its peak.

The park wasn’t crowded—just a few other families and joggers scattered around. It was peaceful, the kind of evening where you could almost forget the strange tension that sometimes hung around the house, the questions you tried not to ask about her father’s late-night comings and goings.

But the peace didn’t last.

As you helped Su-an off the swing and she dragged you toward the monkey bars, a commotion near the edge of the park caught your attention. At first, you thought it was just a group of people arguing—a not-uncommon sight in the city. But then you saw him.

Your heart stopped.

There, in the dim light of a flickering street lamp, was a man—the man. His tall frame was unmistakable, even in the shadows. He stood over a small group of disheveled, huddled figures, who you quickly realized were homeless people. A plastic bag lay torn at his feet, loaves of bread spilled across the ground.

He wasn’t just standing there. He was stepping on the bread.

Your breath caught as you watched him stomp down with deliberate, almost mechanical force, grinding the food into the dirt. The homeless group stared in silence, some in shock, others looking away as if too defeated to protest.

“Isn’t that Daddy?”

The innocent question cut through the haze of disbelief like a knife. You snapped your head down to look at Su-an, her wide eyes fixed on the scene with a mix of curiosity and confusion.

“No,” you said quickly, your voice sharper than you intended. “It’s not.”

“But—”

Before she could finish, you crouched down and gently placed your hands over her eyes. “Let’s go, Su-an. We’re leaving.”

“Why can’t I look? What’s wrong?” she whined, squirming in your grasp.

“Because it’s not safe,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady as you picked her up and started walking away, her protests muffled against your shoulder.

Your mind raced as you carried her toward the car. What had you just witnessed? That couldn’t have been him—could it? But the silhouette, the way he carried himself—it was all too familiar.

You buckled Su-an into her car seat, doing your best to distract her with promises of ice cream and cartoons when you got home. But even as she babbled happily about her favorite flavors, your hands trembled on the steering wheel.

By the time you got back to the house and put Su-an to bed, your heart was still pounding. You paced the living room, replaying the scene over and over in your head. The way he’d crushed the bread underfoot—there had been no hesitation, no anger, just cold, calculated precision.

Who does that?

And more importantly, why?

The house was silent, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the floorboards as you shifted on the couch. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but between your classes, assignments, and Su-an’s boundless energy, exhaustion had taken its toll.

It was the sound of the front door slamming that jolted you awake. Disoriented, you blinked into the darkness, the faint glow of the kitchen light casting long shadows across the room. Footsteps echoed through the hallway—heavy, deliberate, and nothing like the hurried, near-silent ones you were used to from the man of the house.

You sat up, your heart beginning to race. Something wasn’t right.

When he appeared in the doorway, your stomach twisted into a knot. His usually pristine white shirt was drenched in blood, the vivid crimson staining the fabric and dripping in thick, uneven streaks. His face was ashen, his dark eyes wild and unfocused, like a man teetering on the edge of something you couldn’t name.

“Wh-what happened?” you stammered, instinctively backing away as the metallic tang of blood reached your nose.

“It’s not my blood,” he said curtly, his voice gravelly and sharp.

As if that was supposed to make you feel better.

“That doesn’t answer my question!” you said, your voice trembling despite your attempt to sound firm.

He staggered toward the kitchen, his movements unsteady but purposeful. Against every ounce of self-preservation screaming at you to stay put, you got up and followed him.

“Are you hurt?” you asked, your tone softer this time.

He didn’t respond, instead gripping the edge of the counter as if to steady himself. The dim light overhead cast harsh shadows across his sharp features, making him look even more unapproachable than usual.

“Sit down,” you said, surprised by the steadiness of your own voice.

He turned his head, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your chest tighten. For a moment, you thought he’d ignore you, but then he surprised you by obeying. He sank into one of the kitchen chairs, his movements slow and deliberate, as if every step cost him.

You grabbed a damp cloth from the sink, your hands trembling slightly as you wrung it out. You weren’t sure why you were doing this—why you weren’t running out the door or calling the police. Maybe it was the way he looked, like a man who had seen too much, or maybe it was the faint vulnerability hiding behind his hard exterior.

“This... isn’t normal,” you muttered, more to yourself than him, as you began wiping the blood from his face. The cloth came away dark and sticky, and your stomach churned.

“You shouldn’t concern yourself with things you don’t understand,” he said quietly, his voice carrying a warning edge.

You paused, meeting his gaze. His eyes were darker than you’d ever seen them, filled with something unreadable—a mix of exhaustion, anger, and something else that sent a shiver down your spine.

“I’m here,” you said, almost defiantly, as you moved to clean his hands. “So I’m already concerned.”

He didn’t respond, but the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease ever so slightly.

The silence between you grew even heavier, the only sound now being the soft movement of the cloth against his skin. Your hands were shaking slightly as you worked, wiping the blood from his face, his hands, but his eyes never left you. They were intense—piercing, almost as though he were searching for something in your expression.

You couldn’t look away for long. The tension in the air thickened with every passing second, your heartbeat picking up, each thud echoing loudly in your ears. It was like being drawn into a web you didn’t fully understand but couldn’t escape from, no matter how hard you tried.

When you finally stepped back, giving him space, you thought you’d be able to breathe again. But then, his hand shot out, quick as lightning, wrapping around your wrist. The touch was firm, deliberate, sending an involuntary jolt of electricity through your veins. You tried to pull away, but his grip was unyielding. His fingers were cold against your skin, but the intensity in his eyes made your heart race.

"Why are you helping me?" His voice was low, gravelly, and for a moment, you wondered if he was testing you—seeing if you’d reveal the truth, or maybe if you’d run.

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breath, but your pulse was hammering, and you couldn’t ignore the way your body reacted to his proximity. The heat between you both felt suffocating. His touch was grounding, yet it stirred something dangerous inside you. “Because someone has to,” you replied, your voice steady, though you could feel the words slipping off your tongue more as a defense than truth.

His gaze deepened, darkening in a way that sent a chill down your spine. The air between you was thick, electric, as if there were an unspoken promise between you both—a promise you knew you were too afraid to fully acknowledge. Then, before you could even react, he pulled you in close. His other hand slid to the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair with a force that made your breath catch in your throat.

And then his lips were on yours.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t slow. It was a collision, desperate and overwhelming, like a dam that had been holding back too much for too long and was finally breaking free. His kiss was messy—almost violent—as if he needed to consume you, to claim you in a way that made your knees weak and your thoughts scatter. His lips were demanding, his teeth grazing your bottom lip in a way that made your body tremble.

You should’ve pushed him away, told him to stop, told him that this was wrong. Your mind screamed at you to break free, but your body betrayed you, leaning into him instead, matching the fervor of his kiss. His hand slid to your waist, pulling you even closer, his grip tightening. Your breath was ragged between kisses, and your pulse pounded in your ears as the world outside of the two of you seemed to vanish.

When he pulled away, just far enough to catch his breath, your lips were swollen, your chest heaving. You couldn’t think. All you could feel was the lingering heat of his touch, the undeniable thrum of desire that still buzzed beneath your skin. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, there was something in them—something dark, dangerous, but...hungry.

His lips curved into a smirk, and it sent a jolt of unease running down your spine, mingled with something else, something deeper.

“You’re in over your head, kid,” he said, his voice a low murmur that sent a shiver down your back.

The words should’ve been a warning. They should’ve sent you running. But instead, they only lingered in the air between you, wrapping themselves around you like a noose. You should’ve known then, but you didn’t want to listen.

And for the first time, you realized: you were already tangled up in his web, and maybe—just maybe—you didn’t want to escape.

The obsession grew in subtle ways. You’d arrive to find unexpected gifts waiting for you on the kitchen counter: a sleek leather wallet, a watch so expensive you didn’t dare wear it, a bottle of cologne that smelled like a storm breaking over the ocean.

When you tried to protest—“This is too much” or “I can’t accept this”—his expression would shift. His jaw would tighten, his eyes darkening with something that made your chest tighten.

“Take it,” he’d say, his tone brooking no argument. And you’d always comply, your words catching in your throat as he gave you a look that said refusing wasn’t an option.

Your feelings about him became a tangled mess of contradictions. Every instinct screamed that something about him was wrong. The blood, the cryptic way he spoke, the chilling bread incident in the park—they all painted a picture of a man you should stay far away from.

But then there were the moments that left you reeling. A lingering glance, a brush of his hand against yours, the way he could soften—just slightly—when he saw you with Su-an.

The first time he kissed you, you felt like your world had been turned inside out. It was sudden, overwhelming, and left you breathless. His lips were rough but urgent, like he was staking a claim rather than asking permission. And when it happened again—and again—you didn’t push him away. Instead, you found yourself leaning into him, craving the heat of his touch despite every rational thought telling you to run.

But his obsession wasn’t content to simmer beneath the surface. It began to consume him, bleeding into the delicate balance of your day-to-day life.

He started showing up during your babysitting hours, a presence that was impossible to ignore. At first, he’d just watch from the doorway as you played with Su-an, his dark eyes following your every move with a possessiveness that sent shivers down your spine.

Then, his involvement escalated. He’d dismiss you early—always with some excuse about needing to talk to you. But the moment Su-an was out of earshot, his demeanor would shift. He’d pull you into his room, his hands firm but not rough as he guided you inside.

“You’re spending so much time with her,” he’d say, his voice low and rough, tinged with something you couldn’t quite place. “Don’t forget who’s paying you.”

His lips would crash against yours before you could respond, his kisses urgent and messy, as though he couldn’t stand the thought of you being anywhere else but with him.

The final straw came on a night like any other—or so you thought. Su-an had already gone to bed, and you were tidying up the living room when your gaze drifted toward the slightly ajar door of the man’s study. It was a room he rarely used in your presence, a space he kept locked most of the time.

You hadn’t intended to snoop. But the door was open, and your curiosity, already inflamed by the strange events surrounding him, got the better of you.

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of leather and faintly bitter cologne. The dim lighting cast long shadows over the mahogany desk and the shelves lined with books and files. One particular folder caught your attention—it was open, papers spilling out as if hastily shoved aside.

Your heart sank as you picked up the first page. It was your class schedule, neatly printed and highlighted. Beneath it were receipts from your favorite coffee shop, notes about your usual order scribbled in the margins.

And then there were the photos.

They weren’t candid shots taken on the street or at the park. They were intimate, the kind of photos someone would take if they were watching closely—too closely. You recognized the outfits, the moments. One was of you laughing as you pushed Su-an on the swings. Another showed you sitting on a park bench, earbuds in, entirely unaware of the camera.

The air in the room felt too thick, like it was choking you. Your fingers trembled as you shoved the papers back into the folder, heart hammering in your chest.

“What the hell is this?”

The words left your mouth before you even realized he was standing in the doorway, his tall frame silhouetted against the light from the hall. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes burned with something intense.

The folder in your hands felt heavier than it should have, its contents seared into your memory. Photos of you, notes about your life, details no one should know unless they’d been watching you for far too long. Your heart pounded in your chest as you stared at him, standing so calmly in the doorway as if this was all perfectly normal.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you demanded, your voice shaking.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stepped further into the room, his movements slow, deliberate. The door clicked shut behind him, sealing you in with the man you were starting to realize you knew far less about than you’d thought.

“I warned you,” he said, his voice low, almost soothing. “I told you not to go looking where you shouldn’t.”

“This—this is insane,” you stammered, backing up until the edge of the desk pressed against your hips. “Why do you have these? Why are you—”

“You don’t get it, do you?” he interrupted, his tone softening as he drew closer. His gaze was unrelenting, pinning you in place. “I’ve been watching over you. Protecting you. You’re... important to me.”

“Protecting me?” you shot back, your voice breaking. “This is stalking. This is obsessive. This—this isn’t normal!”

He stopped just a breath away from you, his height and presence overwhelming. His eyes, dark and piercing, searched yours for something, though you couldn’t tell what. Slowly, he reached out, his hand brushing against your cheek.

“I can’t lose you,” he murmured, his voice almost breaking. “Do you have any idea what you mean to me–and to my daughter? You’ve become... everything.”

The warmth of his touch sent an involuntary shiver down your spine. Your body tensed, torn between the instinct to pull away and the undeniable pull of his closeness.

“Stop,” you whispered, though your voice lacked the strength it should have had. “This isn’t—this can’t—”

But he didn’t stop. His other hand moved to your waist, firm but not forceful, as he leaned closer.

“You keep saying it’s wrong,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, his breath warm against your lips. “But you don’t push me away.”

His lips brushed against yours, testing, as though giving you one last chance to stop him. But when you didn’t move, when your breath hitched and your hands gripped the edge of the desk behind you, he took it as permission.

The kiss was slow at first, deliberate and searching, as though he was memorizing every inch of your mouth. But it didn’t stay that way for long. His hand slid up to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss.

You gasped against him, your hands instinctively gripping his shirt. The heat of him, the sheer intensity of his presence, was dizzying. When his teeth grazed your bottom lip, you couldn’t suppress the small sound that escaped you—a sound that seemed to ignite something in him.

His movements grew more desperate, more consuming. He pressed you back against the desk, his body caging you in as his lips moved from your mouth to your jaw, then down to the sensitive skin of your neck. The scrape of his stubble sent sparks of sensation racing down your spine, and you couldn’t help the way your head tilted to give him better access.

“You drive me insane,” he murmured against your skin, his voice rough, almost guttural. “Do you even realize what you do to me?”

You swallowed hard, your mind racing even as your body betrayed you, leaning into him. His hands gripped your waist, his thumbs brushing just under the hem of your shirt, and you shivered at the contact.

“This... this isn’t okay,” you managed, though the words came out weak, shaky.

“No,” he agreed, pulling back just enough to look at you. His gaze was dark, filled with something you didn’t dare name. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t want it.”

The words hung between you, heavy and charged, as he leaned in again, his lips claiming yours with a hunger that left no room for argument. And though your mind screamed at you to stop, to push him away, your body betrayed you, pulling him closer instead.

His hand slowly trailed to the hem of your sweatpants, lightly tugging on the strap, you flinched when his cold hand suddenly went under your boxers.

“We shouldn’t be doing this– Su-an might-” you were interrupted with his other hand covering your mouth.

“Hush now, this room is soundproof,” he merely stated before harshly pulling your pants and boxers down with one tug. He then picked you up and placed you on the desk, pushing aside all the files and paper, which now seemed so insignificant.

“You’re hard. Are you still telling me you don’t want this?” He questions, his warm breath fanning your ear. You shuddered at the feeling, not knowing what to say, or what to do.

Before you could form words, he wraps his hand around your aching cock which was standing erect, partly due to the cool air, and partly due to what was happening.

His movements were minimal, slowly moving his hand along your shaft, while his other hand fetched a packet of lube from his back pocket. Where he managed to get that, you couldn’t tell.

He ripped the packet with his teeth, and spread the substance all over his fingers, before swiftly flipping you over, so that your ass was facing him.

Before you could utter a word of process, he had slipped a lubed finger in you. A wanton moan left your mouth at the sudden intrusion.

“Fuck–don’t stop, please,” the man only smirked at this, slowly sliding in another finger, and then another. Three of his fingers slowly pumped in and out of you, and oh, it felt heavenly. His other hand held you up just a bit, to keep you from falling off the study desk.

Your hands gripped onto the desk, frantically trying to keep yourself upright, but to no avail. You kept slumping off, the pleasure being too overwhelming.

“Stay still for me pet, that’s it–good boy,” the praise went straight to your dick, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Soon, the man determined that you had been prepped enough, and removed his fingers. You whined at the sudden emptiness, wanting to feel full once more.

He stared at your twitching hole, clenching around nothing. The sight did nothing but turn him on even more.

He removed his belt and cast it aside, while tugging down his pants and boxers with a sense of urgency. He easily flipped you over with his strong arms, now getting a clear view of your already fucked-out face.

He merely grinned, and before you could respond, he slid into your awaiting hole. You gasped at the intrusion, the head of his cock bullying its way into your hole. He groaned feeling the way you clenched around his length.

Without waiting for you to adjust, he fucked into you like an animal in heat, holding your legs in such a way that your knees where at your shoulders.

The new angle made his length hit your prostate with every thrust, making your head fall back on the table, a loud moan leaving your lips.

The man was savouring every single reaction, every little noise you made. “Such a sweet little thing,” he cooed. “Can’t even keep a straight head while getting fucked, hm?”

The only thing that left your mouth was a string of garbled noises. Your brain had quite literally turned to mush with how well he was fucking you.

Soon, you felt your orgasm wash over you like a waterfall, but the man didn’t stop. Instead, he fucked into you harder, a bulge forming in your stomach with every thrust.

He lightly pressed on the bulge, which made you squeal– the overstimulation doing too much to your head.

He kept rutting into you until he felt his climax. When it came, his thrusts slowly started to stutter. Without warning he emptied his load in you, painting your gummy walls white.

He kept you on the desk, without pulling out as you whimpered, feeling so, so full.

With your mind in such a disarrayed state, you didn’t notice him slip a small ring onto your finger.

“Now you can’t leave me–or Su-an, ever. Poor thing needs a mother after all.”

2K notes · View notes

darksturnz · 1 month ago

Text

SNOWED IN

CONTENTS:・smut-heavy plot ・shypervy!matt ・pillow riding・unprotected p in v ・oral (m! & afab! receiving)・creampie ・fluff :3 + more WC: 5.1k

The blizzard outside was relentless, the kind that swallowed the streets of Boston in a suffocating white blanket and made the idea of stepping outdoors laughable. The windows of the apartment were fogged over, and every now and then the wind would whistle against the panes like it was testing the limits of the glass. You were curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket that trailed onto the floor, flipping through the channels with little interest.

Behind you, Matt stood in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a mug of coffee in his hands. He had that slightly disheveled look about him, like he’d rolled out of bed without fully shaking off sleep—messy hair, hoodie wrinkled, socks mismatched. You didn’t mind. Matt was always a little like that: casual, a bit quiet, but solid and easy to be around.

“You know, I feel like we should be doing something,” you said, breaking the silence.

“Something like what?” he asked, his voice soft but curious.

“I don’t know. It’s a snow day! Aren’t snow days supposed to be fun?”

He took a sip of his coffee, giving you a small, lopsided smile. “They’re also for staying inside and not freezing to death. I think we’ve got that part down.”

You sighed dramatically, tossing the remote onto the coffee table. “Come on, Matt. Live a little. We’ve been roommates for, what, three years? This is like our… fifth snowstorm together. We’ve gotta mix it up.”

“Mix it up how?”

You sat up, turning to face him with a spark of determination. “We could have a movie marathon. Or play a game. Or—wait, hear me out—we could build a pillow fort.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “A pillow fort? Aren’t we a little old for that?”

“Never.” You grinned at him, sliding off the couch and padding over to where he stood. “Don’t pretend like you don’t want to. You’re just scared you’ll get out-engineered by me.”

Matt scoffed lightly, but his ears turned pink, something you didn’t notice as you rummaged through the hallway closet for extra pillows.

“Okay,” he said finally, setting his mug down and rubbing the back of his neck. “But don’t blame me if this thing collapses.”

“It won’t collapse if you do what I say.” You shot him a playful wink, which only made the flush on his cheeks deepen.

The two of you got to work, pulling cushions off the couch and draping blankets over chairs to form the roof. Matt quietly followed your lead, handing you supplies and occasionally mumbling things like, “That’s not gonna hold,” or “You’re gonna need more support there.”

At one point, you stood on the coffee table to adjust a blanket, and Matt reached out instinctively, his hand hovering near your back like he was afraid you might fall.

“Careful,” he said softly.

“I’m fine, Dad,” you teased, sticking your tongue out at him.

His hand dropped, and he turned away, pretending to busy himself with straightening a pillow, though the faint redness creeping up his neck gave him away.

When the fort was finally done, it was a masterpiece—cozy and lopsided, with string lights you’d fished out of a storage box giving it a warm glow. You crawled inside first, sitting cross-legged on the floor and patting the space next to you.

“Come on, it’s not a real fort until you’re inside and it manages to stay up.”

He hesitated for a second, then ducked under the blanket and sat beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours in the cramped space.

“See? Isn’t this better than nothing?” you said, looking over at him with a smile.

“Yeah,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “It is.”

You handed him a bag of popcorn, your fingers grazing his, and he froze for just a moment before quickly taking it, his eyes fixed firmly on the string lights above.

The two of you spent the evening talking and laughing, the snowstorm forgotten as you swapped stories and debated over which childhood cartoons were the best. Every so often, Matt would glance at you out of the corner of his eye, his heart thudding a little harder when you laughed or smiled at him like he was the only person in the room, which he was but that’s besides the point.

Eventually, though, exhaustion started to creep in. You yawned, stretching your arms overhead.

“I think I’m gonna head to bed,” you said, crawling out of the fort and standing up.

Matt followed you out, watching as you gathered the blanket you’d been using earlier. “Goodnight,” he said, his voice soft.

“Goodnight, Matt,” you replied, giving him a little wave as you disappeared down the hall.

He lingered in the living room for a moment, staring at the now-empty fort before heading towards the bathroom for a shower.

As you settled into bed, wrapping yourself in the familiar weight of your blankets, you heard it: the faint hum of the shower turning on down the hall. The steady rush of water filtered through the quiet apartment, a soothing yet distant sound that seemed to amplify the stillness of your room. You lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, letting the sound wash over you like white noise.

But the second your head hit the pillow, the restlessness crept in.

You sighed softly, rolling onto your side, then your back again, punching the pillow as if fluffing it would trick your body into cooperating. But it was no use. Insomnia—your unwelcome, all-too-familiar companion—was already settling in. This was how it went most nights, the routine so predictable it almost felt like a cruel joke.

The weight of exhaustion was there, heavy in your limbs, but your mind refused to follow. Thoughts you couldn’t quite name flitted just out of reach, intangible but persistent, keeping you from slipping into the oblivion of sleep.

Another sigh escaped your lips, quieter this time, like you were trying not to disturb the silence. You could still hear the water running, muffled now, but constant. Matt was probably rinsing away the day, oblivious to the small storm brewing in your head. You wondered absently how he always seemed so calm, so unbothered by the little things that left you tangled up and wide awake.

You rolled onto your side again, clutching the blankets a little tighter, hoping the rhythmic hum of the shower might somehow lull you to sleep. But it wasn’t working. If anything, it was having the opposite effect. Your mind wandered, unbidden, to the thought of Matt in the shower—steam rising, water trailing down his skin—and suddenly, your cheeks burned with a heat that had nothing to do with the blankets wrapped around you.

It was no secret, at least not to yourself, that Matt was incredibly attractive. Add to that his quiet sweetness, his unshakable respectfulness, and it was a combination that left your head spinning more often than you’d care to admit. It wasn’t just you, either—your mutual friends seemed baffled that the two of you had managed to live together for years without any “accidents” during late nights out. But then again, Matt was Matt. Respectful to a fault, impossibly shy, and so unaware of the effect he had on people—especially you—that it almost made you laugh.

Almost. Because right now, the thought of him was doing anything but making you laugh.

You squeezed your eyes shut, as if that might somehow chase away the thoughts swarming your mind. But it didn’t help. The image of Matt—droplets clinging to his collarbone—lingered stubbornly. You shifted restlessly, the blankets suddenly too warm, your heart beating just a little faster than it should.

This is ridiculous, you told yourself, burying your face into the pillow. He’s your roommate. He probably doesn’t even think about you like that.

And yet, some part of you couldn’t ignore the moments. The tiny, fleeting glances. The way he always seemed a little nervous when he stood too close. The way his ears turned red whenever you teased him, like he wasn’t used to being the center of someone’s attention.

You groaned softly, flipping onto your back and staring at the ceiling as if it held some sort of answer. The truth was, you’d been toeing the line with Matt for so long that even thinking about crossing it felt dangerous. But tonight, with the sound of the shower still running and your mind painting pictures you shouldn’t be entertaining, the line felt thinner than ever.

The water finally shut off, breaking through your thoughts. You held your breath, listening as the faint rustle of movement came from the bathroom—Matt grabbing a towel, maybe shaking out his hair. Your cheeks burned again at how vivid your imagination had become, and you pulled the blanket over your face like it might shield you from your own embarrassment.

Moments later, you heard his footsteps padding softly down the hallway. He paused outside your door, long enough that you wondered if he might knock. But instead, he moved on, his door creaking open before clicking softly shut.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, the apartment quiet once more. But now, sleep felt even further away, your heart racing with the knowledge that Matt was just down the hall, freshly showered and unaware of the effect he had on you.

Get a grip, you scolded yourself, rolling over for what felt like the hundredth time. But as you closed your eyes, his face was still there, vivid and unshakable, lingering in the quiet of the night.

Your body betrayed you completely, heat spreading across your skin as the thoughts grew harder to push away. Your heart thudded loudly in your chest, the rhythm almost deafening in the stillness of your room. It wasn’t just your cheeks burning anymore—your entire body felt warmer, the blankets suddenly suffocating as you kicked them off in frustration.

Your breathing quickened, shallow and uneven, as if even the thought of him—his damp hair, the curve of his jaw, the way he’d probably look utterly at ease in the privacy of the bathroom—was too much to process. You pressed your thighs together instinctively, trying to quell the restless energy pooling in your stomach, but it only seemed to make it worse.

Your hands clenched at the sheets, gripping them tightly as you stared up at the ceiling, willing yourself to think about anything else. But it was impossible. Every time you tried to distract yourself, your mind circled back to him, to the sound of the shower and the way you imagined droplets clinging to his skin, how he’d towel his hair dry in that effortless, boyish way of his.

Another frustrated sigh escaped your lips, and you turned onto your stomach, pressing your face into the pillow. Your body refused to settle, every nerve ending feeling far too aware, far too alive. You hated how easily he got to you, how the mere idea of him could make your body react like this, even when you knew it was pointless to dwell on it.

Still, the thoughts lingered, stubborn and insistent, leaving you flushed and restless in the dark. You lay there for a moment longer, the ache between your legs growing stronger with each passing minute. The image of Matt fresh from the shower was seared into your mind. His scent, cedar wood and vanilla, seemed to linger in the air, taunting you with its closeness.

Unable to bear the torment any longer, you quietly slipped out of bed, careful not to make a sound. Your heart raced as you tiptoed towards your closet, retrieving your old pillow - one you'd secretly come to associate with these forbidden fantasies.

Returning to your bed, you positioned the pillow just so, imagining it was Matt beneath you. Slowly, you straddled it, biting your lip to stifle a moan as you began to grind against the soft surface.

Your breath came in ragged gasps as you rode the pillow with increasing fervor, lost in the fantasy of Matt's strong hands gripping your hips, guiding your movements. In your mind's eye, his piercing blue gaze locked with yours, filled with equal parts desire and restraint.

"Fuck," you whispered, the word escaping through clenched teeth as the pressure built within you. The fabric of your thin cotton panties grew damp, adding to the delicious friction against your most sensitive places.

Meanwhile, just outside your bedroom door, Matt stood frozen, his heart pounding in his chest. He had been about to knock on your door, to check if you needed anything before he seriously drifted off to sleep, your insomnia was always something he tried to find little tips and tricks on google to help you with it. But then he heard it - a soft, needy whimper that sent shivers down his spine.

Curiosity getting the better of him, he leaned closer to the door, straining to hear more. And then he heard it again, unmistakable this time: "Matt." Your voice, breathy and laden with desire, calling out his name.

Unable to resist, he slowly turned the knob, cracking open the door just enough to peer inside. The sight that greeted him nearly brought him to his knees. There you were, riding a pillow with wild abandon, your face contorted in pleasure as you chased your release.

Matt's mouth went dry as he watched you, transfixed by the erotic display before him. His cock twitched in his sweatpants, already half-hard from the tantalizing sounds spilling from your lips. He knew he should look away, give you privacy, but he couldn't tear his gaze from the mesmerizing sight of your hips undulating against the pillow.

Unconsciously, one hand drifted to his crotch, palming himself through the thin fabric. A low groan escaped him as he imagined it was his body you were grinding against, his name you were moaning so sweetly. Lost in the fantasy, he began to stroke himself in earnest, his breathing growing heavier with each pass of his hand.

As you continued to ride the pillow, lost in your own world of pleasure, Matt watched with bated breath. His hand moved faster over his now fully erect cock, the wet sounds of your arousal mingling obscenely with his own harsh pants. Sweat beaded on his brow as he struggled to maintain his silence, desperate not to alert you to his presence.

As your climax approached, your movements became more frantic, more urgent. Your fingers dug into the pillow, anchoring yourself as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over you. "Matt!" you cried out, his name a prayer on your lips as you shattered completely.

At the same moment, Matt felt his own orgasm building, coiling tighter and tighter in his gut. With a final, strangled groan, he spilled into his hand, his vision going white as intense pleasure consumed him. For a long moment, he remained rooted to the spot, chest heaving as he caught his breath.

Then reality came crashing back in. What the hell had he done? Guilt and shame washed over him as he realized the depths of his betrayal. You trusted him, and here he was, spying on you in such an intimate moment, using you for his own twisted gratification.

As the last tremors of your climax faded, you slowly opened your eyes, feeling deliciously spent and satisfied. It was only then that you noticed the faint crack of light seeping in from the slightly ajar bedroom door, illuminating the shadowy figure standing just beyond the threshold.

Your gaze snapped up, locking with Matt's wide, guilty eyes. His lips were parted, his chest rising and falling rapidly as if he had just run a marathon. And there, plain as day, was the unmistakable wet patch darkening the front of his sweatpants, the outline of his still-prominent erection clearly visible.

For a moment, neither of you moved, both stunned into silence by the weight of the revelation. Then, as if in slow motion, Matt's hands emerged from his waistband, his face twisting with a mixture of shame and residual lust. "I..."

"I'm sorry," Matt managed to choke out, his voice rough with emotion. "I didn't mean to... I shouldn't have..." He trailed off, unable to find the words to express the depth of his regret and self-loathing.

He took a step back, ready to flee, to escape the condemning judgment he expected to see in your eyes. But something stopped him - perhaps it was the way you looked at him, not with anger or disgust, but with a hunger that mirrored his own.

"I saw you," he whispered, his gaze dropping to the pillow still clutched between your thighs. "I heard you saying my name, and I... I couldn't stop myself." His hand drifted back to his crotch, cupping himself almost involuntarily. "Do you have any idea what you do to me?"

Your breath caught in your throat at Matt's raw confession, desire warring with trepidation in your chest. This was dangerous territory, crossing lines that could never be uncrossed. Yet the aching need pulsing between your legs urged you forward, drowning out the voice of reason.

Slowly, deliberately, you sat up, letting the pillow fall away as you met Matt's heated gaze. "Show me," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper. "Show me what I do to you."

Matt swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing with the motion. Without breaking eye contact, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his sweatpants, pushing them down just enough to free his straining erection. It sprang forth, thick and hard, the tip glistening with pre-cum.

Your pulse raced as you drank in the sight of Matt's impressive length, your cunt clenching around nothing with renewed desire. Part of you wanted to reach out, to touch, to taste, but you held yourself back, waiting to see how far he would take this forbidden game.

Matt's hand wrapped around his shaft, giving it a slow pump from base to tip. A shudder ran through him at the contact, his head falling back as he let out a low moan. "Fuck, y/n," he panted, his voice strained with need. "The things I want to do to you..."

His hand moved faster, stroking himself with purposeful intent. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with his harsh breaths and bitten-off curses.

Emboldened by Matt's brazen display, you rose from the bed on trembling legs, closing the distance between you with deliberate slowness. His eyes widened as you drew near, his hand faltering in its rhythm as he took in your small frame, your old band t-shirt brushing against your bare thighs and your face flushed and glistening with sweat.

"Touch me," you demanded softly, guiding his free hand under your shirt and to your breast. "I want to feel you."

Matt obliged eagerly, his calloused palm molding to the supple flesh, thumb grazing over the pebbled peak. Electricity zipped through your veins at the contact, stoking the fire burning low in your belly.

Unable to resist any longer, you reached out, wrapping slender fingers around his throbbing cock. Matt groaned gutturally, his hips bucking into your grip as you began to stroke him in tandem with his own movements.

Lost in a haze of lust, Matt surrendered to the exquisite sensations assaulting his senses. Your soft hand on his aching cock, the press of your pert breast against his palm, the intoxicating scent of your arousal filling his nostrils - it was almost too much to bear.

With a growl, he tugged your shirt up and over your head, tossing it aside carelessly. His hungry gaze raked over your naked form, drinking in every dip and curve like a man starved. "So fucking beautiful," he rasped, reverent and awestruck.

Lowering his head, he captured one perky nipple between his lips, suckling greedily as his tongue swirled around the sensitive bud. Your answering moan spurred him on, his free hand sliding down to cup your ass, kneading the firm globe possessively.

Matt's demeanor shifted abruptly, his usual shyness melting away like snow under the summer sun. In its place was a raw, primal dominance that sent shivers racing down your spine.

"On your knees," he commanded, his voice a deep, authoritative rumble. There was no room for argument, no trace of the hesitant boy you knew. This was a man who took what he wanted, and right now, he wanted you.

Obediently, you sank to the floor, your heart pounding in your ears as you gazed up at him through lowered lashes. Matt towered over you, his cock jutting proudly.

"Open your mouth," he growled, fisting a hand in your hair and guiding you closer.

Your lips parted automatically, a thrill of submission coursing through you at Matt's commanding tone. He wasted no time, feeding his thick length past your lips and onto your tongue, groaning at the slick heat enveloping him.

"Fuck, yes," he grunted, setting a punishing pace as he fucked your face with abandon. One hand remained tangled in your hair, holding you steady while the other braced against the wall behind you, his muscles flexing with each powerful thrust.

Saliva dripped down your chin as you struggled to accommodate his girth, your jaw aching with the strain. But the depravity of it all, the sheer wrongness of being used so roughly by your roommate and best friend, only heightened your arousal.

Your muffled moans vibrated around Matt's cock as he continued to use your mouth for his pleasure, his balls slapping against your chin with each brutal snap of his hips. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes from the intensity, but you didn't dare pull away, submitting wholly to his dominance.

"That's it, take it all," Matt snarled, his voice guttural and rough with lust. "Bein’ such a good girl f’me, aren't you?"

His filthy words sent liquid heat straight to your core, your neglected cunt clenching around emptiness for the umpteenth time tonight. You needed more, craved the feel of him stretching you open, claiming you in the most primal way possible.

As if sensing your desperation, Matt suddenly withdrew, leaving you gasping and bereft.

"Need you so fuckin' bad, been waitin' years for this shit, kid," Matt rasped, his voice dripping with pent-up hunger. Before you could even process his words, he had you lifted off your feet, strong hands gripping your thighs as he tossed you onto the bed like a ragdoll.

You bounced slightly on the mattress, the springs creaking under your combined weight. Matt was on you in an instant, pinning you beneath his larger frame as he forced your legs apart, exposing your dripping sex to his ravenous gaze.

"Christ," he panted, his eyes dark with lust. "fuckin’ dripping baby, look at that, already making such a mess on your bed and i’ve yet to touch you."

Matt wasted no time burying his face between your thighs, his tongue delving deep into your soaked folds without preamble. “Matt! oh-“ You cried out sharply at the sudden intrusion, your back arching off the bed as he lapped at your essence like a man possessed.

"Mmmph, so sweet," he mumbled against your flesh, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure radiating outward. His nose nudged your swollen clit, inhaling deeply as if savoring your unique musk. "Could eat this pretty pussy all day long."

Two thick fingers plunged knuckle-deep into your fluttering hole, pumping in and out at a relentless pace. They curled just so, rubbing mercilessly against that sweet spot inside you, coaxing you towards the edge with ruthless efficiency.

"Oh god, Matt!" you keened, your voice high and breathy with need. Your fingers scrabbled desperately at the sheets beneath you, seeking stability as the intense pleasure threatened to consume you whole. "Don't stop, please don't stop!"

Your hips bucked wildly, grinding shamelessly against his talented mouth as he worked you over with single-minded focus. The obscene wet sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of your sopping cunt filled the room, mingling with your wanton moans and his guttural groans of satisfaction.

It was filthy, debauched, everything you'd ever fantasized about late at night when you were alone with nothing but your imagination and your trusty vibrator for company.

Matt's tongue swirled around your throbbing clit, flicking rapidly over the sensitive bundle of nerves until you saw stars. His fingers never ceased their relentless assault, curling and twisting inside you, stroking along your inner walls with practiced precision.

"M’gonna...gonna come!" you sobbed, teetering on the razor's edge of ecstasy. Every muscle in your body pulled taut, quivering with the force of your impending release. "oh my god"

With a triumphant growl, he sealed his lips around your clit and sucked hard, his fingers pistoning furiously. That was all it took to send you hurtling over the precipice, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave of pure bliss.

As the aftershocks of your climax rippled through you, Matt shifted his position, moving to hover over your trembling form. You could feel the blunt head of his cock nudging insistently at your entrance, smearing the copious juices seeping from your tight hole.

A small puddle of your combined fluids had formed beneath you, staining the sheets with irrefutable evidence of your mutual desire. The musky scent of sex hung heavy in the air.

Matt groaned low in his throat as he rubbed the swollen tip of his cock through your slick folds, coating himself liberally in your essence. The drag of his thick shaft against your sensitive flesh drew another desperate whimper from your lips, your hips canting upwards in silent invitation.

"You're so fuckin' wet for me," he rasped, his voice rough with barely restrained lust. "Bet this tight little cunt is just dyin' to be stretched wide on my cock, isn't she?"

"Yes, please," you breathed, your voice hoarse from screaming his name mere moments ago. " need you inside me, been wanting this for so long..."

Your hands roamed restlessly over his broad shoulders and back, mapping the planes of his muscular body. You could feel the tension thrumming through him, the barely leashed control he was exerting over himself.

"Please, Matt," you whimpered again, wrapping your legs around his waist and locking your ankles at the small of his back. "Don't make me beg."

“As much as I’d love to hear that shit,” he huffs out and with a guttural moan, Matt surged forward, bottoming out in one powerful thrust. Your velvety walls clenched greedily around him, drawing him deeper into your welcoming heat.

"Fuck, you feel incredible," he panted, his forehead coming to rest against yours as he fought to maintain some semblance of restraint. "So tight, so perfect. Like you were made just for me."

He began to move then, withdrawing almost completely before plunging back in with bruising force. Each snap of his hips drove you further up the bed, the headboard banging rhythmically against the wall in a lewd counterpoint to the obscene squelch of his cock plundering your sopping wet cunt.

The pressure built steadily within you, coiling tighter and tighter with each punishing thrust. Your nails raked down his back, leaving angry red welts in their wake as you clung to him desperately, urging him deeper still.

"Harder-please," you demanded breathlessly, tilting your hips to meet his increasingly erratic strokes. "wanna feel you for days."

Your plea seemed to shatter the last vestiges of his control. With a feral snarl, Matt flipped you over onto your stomach, hauling your ass up into the air. He kicked your legs apart with his knee, opening you up completely to his hungry gaze.

"Gonna ruin this sweet little cunt," he promised darkly, delivering a sharp smack to your upturned rear. "Fill you up 'til you're leakin' with my cum."

"Yes, yes, fuck!" you chanted deliriously, pushing back against him with wild abandon. Each brutal thrust sent sparks of pleasure-pain racing up your spine, stoking the inferno building in your core.

The wet slap of skin on skin echoed obscenely throughout the room, punctuated by your loud cries and his grunts. Sweat dripped down his brow, plastering stray locks of hair to his forehead as he rutted into you like a madman.

"M’close," he bit out through clenched teeth, his movements growing increasingly erratic. "Come with me, baby. Wanna feel this tight pussy milking me dry."

With a strangled cry, you came undone, your release crashing over you like a tsunami. Your walls clamped down vice-like around his pistoning length, rippling along every inch as you rode out the waves of ecstasy.

The sensation proved too much for Matt. With a guttural roar, he buried himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself deep inside your cunt. Thick ropes of cum painted your insides, marking you irrevocably as his.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, simply basking in the afterglow as you struggled to catch your breath. Finally, Matt rolled to the side, gathering you close and tucking your head beneath his chin.

"That was...fuck," he murmured, pressing a tender kiss to your sweat-damp temple. "Best damn snow day of my life."

The two of you lay tangled together, limbs intertwined as you slowly drifted back to reality. The world outside continued to rage, wind howling and snow piling up, but here in the cocoon of Matt's arms, all was warm and peaceful.

As your breathing evened out, you felt a strange sense of contentment wash over you. This was more than just a casual hookup born of opportunity and circumstance - there was a connection here, something real and profound.

Matt seemed to sense it too. He nuzzled into your hair, inhaling deeply as if trying to memorize your scent. "Let me stay tonight," he whispered, his voice soft and vulnerable but this time in a way you'd never heard before. "wanna hold you 'til morning."

A sleepy smile curved your lips as you nodded against his chest. "Stay," you mumbled, already feeling yourself slipping towards slumber. "Wanna wake up with you."

Matt pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, his strong arms tightening around you possessively. "Sleep, sweetheart. I got you."

As consciousness faded away, you couldn't remember the last time you'd felt so safe, so cherished. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new uncertainties - but for now, wrapped up in the warmth of Matt's embrace, everything was exactly as it should be.

And you could finally sleep.

AUTHORS NOTE: i’ve said it before but thank you guys again so so much for 200+ followers :,) i hope you enjoyed.

TAG LIST: @jetaimevous @sturnsblunt @riasturns @ifwdominicfike @chrissturns-wife @mattsmunch @pip4444chris @ribread03 @ariestrxsh @angelic-sturniolos111 @pvssychicken @mattslolita @stvrnzcherries @dottieboo @lovergirl4gracieabrams

1K notes · View notes

isaadore · 27 days ago

Text

BOUND BY TWO HEARTBEATS LUKE HUGHES

pairing dad!luke hughes x mom!reader

SUMMARY an unexpected pregnancy challenges your relationship with luke, forcing you both to rethink your future together. however, despite the uncertainty, luke stays by your side, and the pregnancy brings you two closer than ever. word count 3.6k

warnings fluff with slight angst, use of y/n, fem!reader, mentions of birth, unplanned pregnancy, mild arguments

note first ever luke fic! hope u guys enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it 🤞 also, i apologize for the cheesy hockey references 😕 i just thought luke would be the type to make those

MAIN MASTERLIST LH43 MASTERLIST

THE PREGNANCY TEST felt heavy in your hand as you sat on the edge of the couch, staring blankly at the coffee table. Two pink lines. The confirmation was there, undeniable, and yet you felt stuck in a haze of disbelief.

Luke would be home soon. The thought made your stomach twist. What would he say? Would he be excited? Scared? You didn’t know how to prepare for a conversation that could go in so many different directions.

The sound of the front door unlocking made your heart jump. Luke stepped inside, his hockey bag slung over one shoulder, hair slightly dishevelled from his post-practice shower. He didn’t notice you right away, too busy slipping off his sneakers.

“Hey,” he greeted casually, dropping his gear by the door. His voice softened when he looked up and saw you sitting there, still as a statue. “Everything okay?”

You swallowed, gripping the test tighter in your hand. “We need to talk.”

Luke frowned, the playful ease on his face fading instantly. He dropped his keys on the counter and made his way over, sitting down next to you. “What’s going on?”

You held out the test without a word, unable to meet his gaze. The silence that followed was unbearable. Finally, you risked a glance at him.

Luke stared at the test, his expression unreadable. His jaw tensed, and he exhaled sharply through his nose. “You’re… pregnant?”

“Yeah.” Your voice cracked on the single word.

He ran a hand through his hair, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “Okay. Okay,” he said, as if trying to convince himself.

“You don’t have to say anything right now,” you blurted, your chest tightening. “I just—I needed to tell you. I know it’s a lot, and I know it wasn’t part of the plan, but—”

“Of course it wasn’t part of the plan,” Luke interrupted, his voice low and firm. He turned to you; his brows knit together. “We’re not ready for this, Y/N. I’m not ready for this.”

The words stung, even though you’d braced yourself for them. You crossed your arms tightly over your chest, trying to hold yourself together. “Do you think I am? I didn’t exactly ask for this either, Luke.”

He sighed, running his hands over his face. “I just—I don’t know what to do. This changes everything.”

“I know it does,” you said quietly. “But it’s happening whether we’re ready or not.”

Luke stood, pacing the length of the living room. His movements were restless like he was trying to escape his own thoughts. “I mean, what are people gonna say? My career’s just getting started, and now—”

“And now what?” you snapped, unable to hold back anymore. “Now you’re stuck with me and a kid? Is that what you’re worried about?”

He stopped in his tracks, his face falling. “That’s not what I meant,” he said softly, guilt clouding his eyes.

“Then what did you mean?” you demanded, your voice trembling. “Because I’m scared too, Luke. I’m terrified. But I can’t do this alone, and I don’t know what you’re thinking right now.”

Luke’s shoulders slumped, and for a long moment, he didn’t say anything. Then he sank back onto the couch, his head in his hands. “I’m scared,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know if I can be the kind of dad a kid deserves. I don’t even know if I’m ready to try.”

Your anger softened at his vulnerability, and you reached out, hesitating before placing a hand on his back. “I don’t have all the answers either,” you said gently. “But I know we’ll figure it out. Together.”

He lifted his head, looking at you, his eyes glassy. “You really think we can do this?”

“I don’t think it’ll be easy,” you admitted. “But I know I want to try. And I know I need you with me.”

Luke reached for your hand, gripping it tightly. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice thick. “I’m sorry I freaked out. I just… I love you, and I don’t want to screw this up.”

“You won’t,” you said, squeezing his hand. “We won’t.”

For the first time that evening, a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Okay,” he said, nodding. “We’ll figure this out.”

THREE WEEKS LATER

It had been weeks since you told Luke you were pregnant, and while things between you had softened, an unspoken tension still lingered. You were both trying, Luke especially. He had been sticking around more, helping out with things he never used to notice, like stocking the pantry with your favourite snacks or making sure the coffee pot was always ready in the morning. But sometimes, you’d catch him staring off into space, lost in thought and his jaw tight.

Tonight was one of those nights.

The two of you sat on the couch, a documentary playing on the TV that neither of you was really watching. Your legs were tucked under a blanket while Luke sat at the other end, absently fiddling with the strings of his hoodie.

“Luke,” you said softly, pulling his attention away from the screen.

He looked over at you, his blue eyes clouded with worry. “Yeah?”

“How are you feeling about… everything?”

He hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line before he sighed. “Honestly? Still kind of overwhelmed,” he admitted. “Every day, it sinks in more, but I don’t know if I’m doing enough. Or if I can even do enough.”

“Luke, you’re here,” you said gently. “That’s more than enough for me right now.”

“Yeah, but just being here doesn’t mean I’ve got it all figured out,” he countered, frustration creeping into his voice. “What happens when the baby actually gets here? What if I mess it all up?”

“You won’t,” you said firmly, shifting closer to him. “And you don’t need to have all the answers right now.”

He rubbed a hand over his face and leaned back against the couch. “I just want to be good at this,” he murmured. “For you. For the baby.”

Your heart ached at his honesty. Reaching out, you placed your hand over his. “You already are,” you said. “The fact that you care this much, that you’re thinking about it every second, it shows how much this means to you. And that’s what matters.”

Luke turned his hand over, intertwining his fingers with yours. He didn’t say anything right away, but his grip tightened as if holding on to you grounded him.

“I looked up some stuff earlier,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Stuff?”

“Yeah… about pregnancy. What you’re going through, what I should be doing to help. I even looked up prenatal vitamins to make sure you’re taking the right ones.” He let out a nervous laugh. “I guess I just needed to feel like I was doing something, you know?”

Your chest tightened, warmth spreading through you at his confession. “Luke,” you said softly, leaning your head on his shoulder. “That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it,” he teased lightly. “I’m still figuring this out.”

“We both are,” you reminded him.

He rested his cheek against the top of your head, the tension in his body easing for the first time that night. “Do you think we’ll be good at this? At being parents?”

“I think we’ll be better than we give ourselves credit for,” you said.

A comfortable silence settled between you. For a moment, the weight of everything seemed lighter.

“You know,” he said, a mix of nerves and excitement in his voice, “I was thinking… maybe we could tell my parents soon if you’re ready. They’d probably want to know.”

Your breath hitched. It was a big step, one that made the pregnancy feel even more real. His expression was hopeful yet hesitant. You nodded.

“Yeah,” you said, your voice steady. “I think I’m ready.”

Luke smiled for the first time in days, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. “We’ve got this,” he whispered.

SEVERAL DAYS LATER

You sat in the passenger seat of Luke’s car, watching the scenery blur as you made your way to his parents’ house. The test, the doctor’s appointment, and the initial shock were behind you, but this, telling Luke’s parents, felt like a challenge on its own.

Luke’s grip on the steering wheel was tight. His jaw was set, and his lips were pressed into a thin line.

“You okay?” you asked softly.

He glanced at you and forced a small smile. “Yeah. Just thinking about how to say it.”

You reached over and placed your hand on his thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. “They’re going to be happy, Luke. It’s Ellen and Jim. They love us.”

“I know,” he sighed. “But it’s still a lot. What if they think we’re too young or that it’ll mess up my career?”

“Your mom will probably cry, your dad will give some practical advice, and then we’ll all hug. It’ll be fine.”

Luke nodded but didn’t seem convinced.

When you arrived at the Hughes’ home, the familiar smells of freshly baked cookies and the sound of hockey commentary from the living room made you feel more at ease. Ellen greeted you both with a warm hug, calming your nerves a little.

“You’re just in time! I made peanut butter cookies,” she said, ushering you into the kitchen.

“It was Luke’s favourite,” Jim teased from the dining table, where he was tasting one of the freshly baked cookies.

“Still is,” Luke said with a weak laugh, earning a curious look from his dad.

The four of you settled into the living room. Ellen and Jim began small talk with the both of you, but the weight of the real reason for your visit sat on your shoulders.

Ellen caught on first. “Is everything okay?” she asked, tilting her head. “You both seem… nervous.”

Luke’s hand found yours, his fingers lacing tightly with yours. He cleared his throat and glanced at you for reassurance.

“Yeah, uh, everything’s fine,” he said. “Actually, it’s more than fine. We just—we have some news.”

Jim folded his arms and leaned forward slightly. “What kind of news?”

Luke looked at you again, and you gave him a small nod. He took a deep breath.

“We’re… we’re having a baby,” he said, the words tumbling out quickly.

For a moment, the room was silent. Ellen’s mouth opened slightly, her eyes darting between the two of you. Jim’s brow furrowed as he processed the news.

“You’re pregnant?” Ellen finally asked, her voice a mix of disbelief and excitement.

You nodded. “Yes.”

And then, as predicted, Ellen burst into tears. “Oh my gosh!” she exclaimed, covering her mouth with her hands. “That’s amazing news!”

Jim leaned back in his chair, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Well, that’s a big step. Congratulations, you two.”

Ellen jumped up, pulling both you and Luke into a tight hug. “I can’t believe it! A baby! I’m going to be a grandma!”

Luke exhaled, his tension visibly easing. “You’re not mad?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

“Mad?” Ellen pulled back, hands on his cheeks. “Luke, this is wonderful. It’ll be a lot of work, but you two are going to be amazing parents. And we’ll help every step of the way.”

“Absolutely,” Jim added, standing to join the group hug. “You’re not alone in this. Family is everything.”

Luke looked at you, his blue eyes shining with relief. “Told you,” you whispered, and he chuckled softly.

The rest of the evening was filled with talks about baby names, parenting advice, and promises of Ellen knitting baby hats. The weight on Luke’s shoulders seemed to lift with his parents’ excitement.

Later that night, as you drove home, Luke reached over and took your hand. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

“For what?”

“For reminding me this is going to be okay,” he said. “And for being the best girlfriend I could ask for.”

You squeezed his hand, a smile tugging at your lips. “We’ve got this,” you said, echoing his words from a few days ago.

He smiled at that.

DURING THE SECOND TRIMESTER

You hadn’t even opened your eyes yet, but you could already feel Luke moving around the room. The faint clatter of plates and the smell of something burning told you exactly what was going on.

With a sleepy laugh, you called out, “Luke, are you trying to set the kitchen on fire?”

There was a beat of silence before his voice responded, a little defensive. “It’s not burning; it’s just… toasty.”

You rolled out of bed and shuffled into the kitchen, finding him standing at the stove in sweatpants and an old Michigan hoodie, waving a spatula at the smoking pan. He glanced at you sheepishly.

“Breakfast in bed,” he said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess: eggs and toast?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, grinning despite himself. “Figured it was safe enough.”

You walked over and slipped your arms around his waist, resting your head against his back. “You didn’t have to do this, you know.”

He turned the stove off and faced you, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I wanted to. You’re growing a whole human; the least I can do is make you breakfast.”

You laughed, lightly swatting him on the chest. “Maybe stick to smoothies next time.”

Luke’s attentiveness did not stop there.

At night, he would lie next to you, his hand on your stomach, waiting for a kick. The first time he felt one, his eyes lit up like he’d just scored in overtime.

“That’s insane,” he whispered, staring at your belly like it held the secrets of the universe. “They’re really in there.”

“Where else would they be?” you teased, but your heart swelled at the wonder in his voice.

Then there were the books.

Stacks of them appeared on the coffee table, everything from practical guides to detailed pregnancy manuals. You often found him flipping through them late at night, squinting at diagrams and detailed instructions.

One evening, you caught him staring at a page about swaddling techniques. His brow furrowed, lips moving slightly as if rehearsing the steps.

“You know,” you said, sitting down beside him, “babies don’t come with instruction manuals.”

“Yeah, but they should,” he muttered, holding up the book. “I mean, look at this! Who knew folding a blanket could be this complicated?”

You laughed, leaning your head on his shoulder. “You’re going to be a great dad, Luke. Blanket folding skills or not.”

And then there was decorating the nursery.

Luke spent most of his free time preparing the nursery. He assembled the crib (after three tries), organized baby clothes by size, and insisted on painting the walls himself.

“You don’t have to do all of this,” you told him one afternoon as he measured for curtains.

“I want to,” he replied without missing a beat. “I want everything to be perfect for them.”

He paused, glancing over his shoulder at you. “And for you.”

But it wasn’t just the big gestures. It was the small ones that meant the most.

It was the way he kept a stash of salt-and-vinegar chips in the pantry because they were your latest craving.

It was the way he always adjusted the pillows behind your back whenever you sat down, muttering about “keeping you comfortable.”

It was the way he sent texts during away games, even if he only had a few minutes between practices and games.

How are you feeling today?

Are you drinking enough water?

One night, as you lay in bed, Luke traced patterns on your stomach, his voice quiet.

“I still don’t know if I’m ready,” he admitted. “But I want to be. And I want to make sure you never feel like you’re doing this alone.”

You reached for his hand, lacing your fingers together. “You already make me feel that way, Luke.”

He exhaled slowly, tension leaving his body. “Good,” he murmured. “Because I’ll keep trying, every day.”

A COUPLE MONTHS LATER

You lay on the couch, scrolling through your phone and trying to ignore the dull, persistent pain in your back. Luke was a few feet away, aimlessly passing a foam puck between his hands, clearly restless. He hadn’t stopped fidgeting for days now, and you couldn’t blame him; your due date had come and gone, and you were both on edge.

“I think this kid’s taking after you already,” you teased, glancing up at him. “Always late to the party.”

Luke smirked, tossing the puck onto the coffee table. “Or they’re just waiting for the perfect time, like a game-winning goal.”

You rolled your eyes, but before you could reply, a sharp, unfamiliar pain ripped through your stomach, stealing your breath. You instinctively pressed a hand to your belly, eyes wide.

“Y/N?” Luke asked, his voice laced with concern as he immediately sat up straighter. “What’s wrong?”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but then you felt it: the unmistakable sensation of your water breaking. “Luke,” you said, your voice shaking slightly, “my water just broke.”

For a second, Luke froze, staring at you like you’d just announced the world was ending. Then he shot to his feet, panic written all over his face. “Wait—what? Like, right now? Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure, unless I suddenly forgot how to hold my bladder,” you said dryly, but the wave of another contraction cut off your sarcasm.

Luke bolted into action, scrambling around the room like a tornado. “Okay, okay, uh, the hospital bag! Where’s the bag? And your shoes! Do you have shoes? Oh my god, should we call an ambulance? No, wait, we can drive—we can drive. Right?”

“Luke,” you said through gritted teeth, gripping the arm of the couch. “The bag is by the door, my shoes are on my feet, and yes, we can drive. Just breathe.”

He stopped mid-spin, exhaling sharply, trying to calm himself down. “Right. Breathe. I can do that. I’m breathing.”

“Good,” you said, trying not to laugh despite the pain. “Now grab the keys, and let’s go before this baby decides to make their debut on the living room floor.”

The car ride to the hospital was a blur of speeding, frequent checks to make sure you were okay, and Luke muttering to himself under his breath. “This is fine. We’ve got this. Totally fine.”

“Luke,” you said through another contraction, your voice tight, “you’re doing great, but maybe slow down just a little. I’d rather not get a speeding ticket.”

“Right, right, sorry,” he said, easing up on the gas pedal but still darting worried glances your way.

By the time you were settled into a delivery room, Luke had transformed into a nervous ball of energy. He was constantly by your side, holding your hand so tightly it almost hurt, peppering you with questions.

“Do you need water? Or ice? Or a back rub? Oh my god, am I supposed to be doing something? Should I call someone?”

You squeezed his hand, managing a small smile between contractions. “You’re doing fine, Luke. Just stay here with me, okay?”

His eyes softened, and he nodded. “Okay. I can do that.”

Hours passed in a haze of pain, encouragement, and Luke’s endless stream of reassurances. “You’re so strong, Y/N. You’re amazing. You’re doing so well. I love you so much.”

And when the time finally came to push, his face was a mix of awe and sheer terror as he stood by your side, holding your hand as if his life depended on it.

“You’ve got this,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re incredible, Y/N. I’m so proud of you.”

“It’s a boy!” one of the nurses announced, and Luke’s hand dropped from yours as he turned to look.

The doctor carefully placed the baby on your chest, and Luke froze, staring down at the tiny, wriggling bundle in awe.

“Is that…” His voice cracked. “That’s our son.”

You nodded, tears streaming down your face as you looked down at your baby boy. “Yeah. That’s him.”

Luke’s hands shook as he reached out, gently brushing a finger against the baby’s cheek. The baby’s cries quieted slightly, and Luke let out a shaky laugh.

“Hi, buddy,” he whispered, his voice filled with wonder. “I’m your dad. And you… you’re perfect.”

Later, in the quiet hospital room, Luke sat beside you, cradling your son in his arms. The baby had fallen asleep, his tiny fist wrapped around Luke’s finger.

“He’s so small,” Luke murmured, his eyes never leaving the baby’s face. “How is he so small?”

You smiled, leaning your head against his shoulder. “They don’t come out NHL-sized, you know.”

He chuckled softly, the sound filled with awe. “I can’t believe we made him. That he’s ours.”

You reached out, gently stroking the baby’s head. “What should we name him?”

Luke hesitated for a moment, then looked at you, his eyes shining. “How about Caden?” he suggested quietly. “You always liked that name.”

“Caden Hughes,” you said, testing it out. “I love it.”

As the three of you lay in the hospital room, Luke sat beside you, cradling the baby in his arms with a look of pure adoration.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his eyes never leaving Caden’s face, “I didn’t think it was possible, but I think I just fell in love with you all over again.”

You smiled, resting your head against his shoulder. “Me too.”

And in that moment, everything felt exactly as it should be.

‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ MAIN MASTERLIST ✷ LH43 MASTERLIST

#luke hughes x reader #luke hughes #nhl x reader #nhl fanfic #nhl imagine #luke hughes x you #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes angst #luke hughes fluff #nhl x you #nhl fic #nhl #hockey #✷ isaadore

712 notes · View notes

phantomrose96 · 9 months ago

Text

Sham Sacrifice

(Hi it's time for my favorite headcanon)

...

Vlad Masters sat firm and proper on the Fenton Family couch, legs crossed, teacup pinched in his fingertips, fighting subtly against the sinkhole that came with the mistake of taking Jack’s usual spot on the couch. He appeared with all the same charm and delightfulness of an ant swarm rearranging your picnic.

Danny stood at the doorway, just-still-in-the-kitchen, just not inviting himself to join the adults in the living room where Jack boomed and rambled and Vlad sat so stiff and polite and nice that his tea in his hands was going cold.

“Oh, Danny you’ll love this story—Danny, you should join us—Danny this was, what, summer of ’84? When was that heatwave, Vladdy? The one where you—”

“There’s no need to bore Daniel with the mad ravings of two old kooks, Jack. Kids would rather be off at the mall or—some store, surely. No need to stick around Daniel on my behalf. I assure you I won’t be offended if you leave.”

“No worries, V-man. I’m good right here. I love hearing Dad’s stories." Danny met Vlad's challenge, speaking with more poisonous courtesy than Vlad had proffered first. "In fact I think he should tell a few more, if he’s got more in mind.”

“In fact I do have more in mind—” Jack answered.

Neither Danny nor Vlad were listening to Jack. They held eye-contact, Danny with a stern unblinkingness of a sheepdog on duty. A lot was said without words. A lot was understood when Vlad decided to visit through the front door. Vlad only used the front door when he wanted something.

And it was never good when Vlad wanted something.

“—the core reactor project, yeah? That summer? That was in the lab with no A/C. Top floor. We were sweating like pigs, all of us. And I dared you to eat the really moldy pizza from our fridge the night before and you ralphed right into—”

“—Surely you remember this more fondly than I do. Daniel, really, you can go.”

Not a chance.

“Actually,” Danny answered, brightening some as his opportunity struck. “I am interested in this. For science class I need to write a report on the invention of an important piece of technology. I was gonna ask Mom and Dad about the Ghost Portal. And now that you’re here, I can get the whole history.”

Jack made a giddy little noise. He leaned forward, words primed, but Vlad was quicker to the draw.

“Sorry to say, your faith in me is unfounded. I wasn’t the portal guy back in college—that was always your mother and father’s passion project. I was their skeptic.”

“Bet that’s got you feeling pretty foolish right now, doesn’t it V-man?” Jack chided, a quick jab to Vlad’s ribs that nearly unseated the teacup from his suspended saucer. “Considering the fully-functioning portal right beneath our toes.”

“I hardly feel foolish, Jack. Your calculation for the portal in college was never going to work.”

“What do you mean? Of course it did.” Jack thumped the ground with his foot. “It’s running the old girl right now.”

At this, Vlad’s eyes narrowed. For the first time he’d been shaken off whatever skeezy machinations had brought him in. His pride was being challenged, and by Jack no less.

“Absolutely not. With that calculation? Absolutely not.”

“Well forget the tea biscuits Vlad, because you’re going to be eating your words in a second. Mads, hold my spot,” Jack said, as if anyone was planning to take his spot. He bounced from the couch, scooted from the living room, and vanished into the dark maw of the lab stairs, leaving only the waning beat of his footsteps behind.

His absence filled only a swallowing few seconds. The footsteps returned, bounding upward, creaking with his heavy cadence, and Jack bounced back into the room in much the manner he left. A pad of yellow lined paper was clutched in his hand. When he dropped it on the coffee table, it revealed row after row of tight scribble, churning math, carrying down the page and occupying two entire pages more that Jack flipped through.

“Same baby I came up with in college. It just needed heavier dampening and higher voltage than what we made back then. The portal downstairs has that in spades. Well, in like two-thirds of a spade.” Jack tapped something on the last line. “The projection was still only hitting 70% of the threshold we calculated to reach dimension penetration. But it’s an art, not just a science. We fired it up anyway, and it took!”

Vlad grabbed the paper pad, agitated. His eyes ran over it. Then again. Until he settled on one line, a firmness overcoming his face. He tossed the pad back onto the coffee table, and Vlad leaned back into the couch, arms crossed.

“The lambda, Jack.”

“The lambda?”

“Check it again.”

Jack did, lips pursed, pad of paper nearly swallowed in his big meaty hand.

“What about--?”

“It squares. The units don’t balance otherwise. It originates from an integration step of λ*∂λ/∂t. It squares.”

Jack’s brow remained furrowed, firm, until delight cracked into his eyes, and he let out a laugh.

“Gods, my handwriting is gonna be the death of us. Mads,” he tapped something unseen on the second page. “That’s the genius of Vladdy. Cracked this puppy wide open with just a glance. I never noticed that in all my checking. That explains the missing 30%, at least. That explains how the portal took. Lucky for you Danny that Vlad was here—”

“Jack,” Maddie said.

“—your report can have the correct formula. It’ll be—”

“—Jack—”

“—A+ worthy—”

“—Jack,” Maddie said, curt. “Lambda is the ambient ecto-energy. It’s a few ten-thousandths of a unit.”

“It—huh.”

Maddie had surfaced a pen from her pocket. She sheared a few blank pages out from the back of the pad and started the formula fresh. She made quick work of copying it over, quicker work of solving it through – lambda-squared intact.

She hit the final line and hatched a pen mark beneath the number. Jack stared, confused.

“That can’t… no.”

He repeated the same. New pages torn loose. Formula copied over, processed, line by line by line—lambda squared—by line by line by line.

Jack settled on his answer. Same as Maddie’s.

Confusion made his face tense.

“So it’s not 70% of the way to the threshold… It’s 0.013% of the way to the threshold.”

He held the pen hard, his whole body holding firm and taut as the gears turned in his head. Jack’s eyes flickered across the formula, again and again and again. He looked to Maddie, like a dog issued a command he did not understand.

“But it worked,” he said, small. “But it worked.”

Jack stood, robotic almost, eyes lost in something far away. He disappeared into the lab almost as quickly as he had a few minutes before, but now he exited with a smoothness and a quietness so very uncharacteristic of him. It bothered Danny, somewhere deep in his gut.

Maddie followed, a possession matching Jack’s.

Danny’s fingers curled and uncurled. He’d succeeded. He’s successfully interrupted Vlad’s… whatever this was. But the disquiet infected him. He didn’t like it.

“So what does that mean?” Danny asked, perhaps to Vlad. “What’s wrong with the calculation?”

Vlad sipped on tea ice cold.

“Who knows?” Vlad lied.

…

The math didn’t work.

Maddie and Jack burned through paper, burned through pencils, burned through hours.

The math didn’t work.

Clothes stuck to skin. Sweat lingered fetid and stale in the cold basement air. Exhaustion beat like a slurry through their veins.

The math didn’t work.

The portal supervised all, placidly green, the light for their table, the light for their work when the lightbulb overhead burnt clean out and neither Jack nor Maddie could be pulled away to replace it. It stood, it watched, a testament of contradiction to everything they could not solve on paper, and yet everything they built directly into the fabric of reality.

And it should never have worked.

They threw every radical what-if they’d ever conceived over 20 years of ghost research.

The ecto-ether layer.

The latent activation stitches in space fabric.

The anti-ectomatter collision proposal.

The positive-feedback crystallization theory.

And still nothing worked.

All together, every crackpot theory in their favor taken for granted, racked them up to an activation energy 200x more potent than the calculation, and still just 2% of what would be needed to rip open, and hold open, a stable fissure between their reality and the ghost zone.

Maybe by pure luck, unfathomable luck, Fentonworks basement was directly situated atop a natural portal.

Maybe that would explain ripping it open. It did nothing to explain the stability. Natural portals were unstable by definition. There and gone in a few seconds. Not hours, days, weeks, months, a year, that the Fenton Portal had been open. Never so much as faltering.

It was late. 3am ticked away to 4am, and 4:30am. The discarded paper stacked higher than Jack and Maddie both. Calluses oozed from their hands at another attempt, and another, and another.

Maddie flipped through a folder’s worth of yellowed papers, aggressively thumbed over and over after two decades left untouched. And she settled on the one she’d passed over a few dozen times already, always seeking something else, something better.

This time she unsheathed it, and she placed it on the lab table.

“…If a mouse died. In the machine. If a mouse ran through the machine and accidentally bridged two live wires, and died of violent electrocution. 500 milliamps. Instantly melted into the circuitry.”

Maddie’s mouth was cotton-dry while she wrote. Ambient ecto-energy was low. Always very, very low.

Unless something very, very bad happened to something with the capacity to become a ghost.

The numbers wove. Maddie started the formula fresh, and it was pure muscle memory. A mouse. A big mouse, even. A 99th percentile beast of a mouse. And a wire that had been wired incorrectly. Something grounded that never actually grounded. An absolutely horrific amount of electricity.

0.37%, by pure numbers. If she included every permissive crackpot idea they had thrown on top, it topped out at 6% of the needed activation threshold.

Not a mouse.

“A cat,” Jack said, words gummy, tongue dry, face tired. “If we’ve got mice down here, maybe… a stray cat wandered in. Chased the mouse.”

Maddie nodded. It didn’t matter if it made sense.

She penned it in. A large cat. A devastating electrical short. Cats carried more ecto-potential than mice did. Ecto-potential did not necessarily go up with size. It went up with complexity. The things with the most ecto-potential were the things that most became ghosts.

1.45%, by pure numbers. 18% at absolute, absolute crackpot best.

“A dog,” Jack proposed with a shaky laugh. He swallowed. “A mouse… chased by a cat… chased by a dog… all electrocuted at once”

Maddie didn’t say the thing they both knew, which was that both of them would have noticed the evidence left behind by the electrically exploded pieces of a dog.

Maddie did it anyway. A mouse and a cat and a medium-sized dog, maybe just small enough to notice no evidence of, all together. All at once. All violently ripped apart, sacrificed to a machine still asleep in its wall.

Mice did not often make ghosts. Cats did not either. Dogs, occasionally. But infrequently. Very infrequently.

37%. At best.

“Jack.”

“Maddie, I know just—maybe something really smart—”

“—Jack—”

“—like an octopus—”

“Jack.”

“I hear, maybe, pigs are smart. If it was—”

Maddie was writing, already. Not for a pig. Not an octopus. Jack watched, and he knew what the numbers meant. The ecto-potential she penned gave her away. An ecto-potential that high.

65kg, an estimate

10,000 milliamps, a catastrophic accident, a death certificate.

A human’s amount of ecto-potential.

Maddie wrote.

And she wrote.

And she did not apply a single crackpot theory, not a single discredited proposal, not an ounce of exaggeration.

138%.

Threshold, and then some.

Comfortable, easily, then some.

For the first time, after all the hundreds of times she and Jack had penned this equation over the course of 2 decades, the number met her and Jack’s threshold.

A breakthrough.

A revelation.

A pure eureka moment.

Jack and Maddie were silent.

Alone in a humming basement. Alone with only the soft swirls of the portal for company, happy, stable, purring its contentment, singing to the cold air.

“It has to be something else,” Maddie said. And she said it weakly. And she said it childishly.

“You’re right. It can’t be this,” Jack echoed. “If someone died down here, we’d know. Dead bodies don’t walk away. We’d have seen it. O-or even if, if the body got stuck in the portal, we’d have heard of someone going missing.”

Maddie sat, quiet. A thought held her mind hostage.

“Unless they didn’t go missing,” Maddie said, and she said it barely audibly. “Unless the portal spit them right back out.”

“Then—that’s what I said—a dead body, on the floor, we’d have seen.”

“Not a dead body.”

“It had to be lethal, Mads—”

“I know Jack. But if they died, here, in the portal Jack, then their ghost did not get ripped away from the body and sent to the Ghost Zone. …They ripped the Ghost Zone here.” Palms slick with sweat smoothed over her notes. She pointed to one specific line and found her pen tip trembled no matter how badly she stabilized it. “The ecto-potential of a creature is how strong of a pull their ghost creates on the Ghost Zone. A strong enough pull means the ghost can reach the Ghost Zone and stabilize, like a fish reeling itself up, yeah? We agree on this Jack, yes?”

“Yes,” Jack answered.

“It’s what makes the math even work, Jack. Someone dying in the portal didn’t reel themselves to the boat. They reeled the boat in. Jack, they brought the Ghost Zone here…” Maddie wasn’t breathing right. She pulled sweat-soaked bangs away from her face. “Their ghost never left their body Jack. They died, Jack. And they walked back out.”

“…No. No,” Jack said. “No, they didn’t.”

“Then what?” Maddie asked.

Jack stared. He looked away. He didn’t like the expression on Maddie’s face.

“It—what about the ecto-ether theory?” Jack said, of the theory they’d tested and retested and tested all over, all night. He grabbed his pencil back up and pointed it aimlessly at Maddie’s piece of paper, pointed end out in self-defense. “If the ecto-ether is maybe… if it’s only 250-times stronger than we calculated. Then it could…”

Jack’s voice died. His pencil hung idle. Maddie’s paper remained unblemished.

“If it… was a pig,” Jack offered. “If it was a pig that died in the portal.”

“How, Jack? How would a pig get in? We lock all the doors at night, Jack. No one else can get in, Jack. It’s just us, Jack.”

Jack and Maddie were not there when the portal turned on.

Maddie’s statement carried two possibilities. Only two. Both felt like claws digging all the flesh right out of Jack’s heart.

“I want… I want to try the ecto-ether theory again,” Jack choked. “I think it’s the ecto-ether. I think it’ll work.”

Jack slid a piece of paper over, already covered in scribbles. In its single untouched corner, he started the equation for the several-thousandth time that night.

Above their head, birds were singing.

Sunrise hailed unseen from the windowless laboratory.

…

At 6am, Vlad answered his cell phone. The reception crackled, struggling through the layers of sheetrock above his head.

“Vlad?” Maddie’s voice crackled. “Sorry, did I wake you up?”

“Not at all my dear.” Vlad leaned his weight against the wall, playing with the singsong melody in his voice. “But you sound exhausted. Is anything the matter?”

“Yes. Well… Yes. Jack and I have—all night—trying to fix the equation.”

“Naturally.”

“We found something that maybe works.”

“Oh?” Vlad asked. He straightened, pacing now, cracklingly attentive. “And what might that—”

“If someone died. Activating the portal. We have an on-switch inside the portal’s interior. The trigger we use to press it is external to the portal, of course. But if someone went inside the portal, and they pressed it directly, and if they died, and pulled the Ghost Zone here—”

Vlad’s red eyes reflected pools of iridescent green. He twirled his free hand in the fringes of his cape, tongue working over the fanged edges of his teeth. He stared, consumed, forward.

“—and just, you, I was thinking, you’re the only other expert I’d trust to… maybe weigh in.”

“What does Jack think?”

“He denies it. He’s still. He’s trying other theories.”

“Well who knows, surely? The answer may lie somewhere you haven’t looked.”

“…I’ve looked everywhere, Vlad. That's the thing. There is no more ‘somewhere else’. I’ve looked.”

“You sound like your mind is made up.”

“I just… if maybe you have some idea.”

“Am I meant to talk you out of this idea?”

“Vlad.”

“Do you think I have some secret information you don’t? Sorry to say, I’m just your skeptic.” Some noise came through muffled from the other side. Vlad flashed a smile. “But…as your skeptic I will offer you this—It all sounds a bit absurd, doesn’t it? To kill someone and have them come back intact and… for you to never notice? Who would they be? How would they be? Surely not human anymore, surely. How would you never notice?”

Vlad paced forward, booted feet clicking along his laboratory floor.

“It would be ridiculous,” he continued, with a building crescendo, “so unfathomably self-centered surely, to not notice something like that befall someone so close to you, who died at the hands of your own invention? …If I’m correctly inferring who, in your household, you suspect of having activated the portal?” Vlad’s tongue lingered along his teeth.

Maddie’s line held, quiet. And the seconds of static drew long.

“Ah, apologies. I’ve overstepped,” Vlad continued. “I meant this as a vote of confidence in you. You and Jack both. Two people as attentive, caring, compassionate as yourselves. You would notice. I promise.”

“You’re… Okay, thank you, Vlad. I appreciate it.”

“Is there anything else, my dear?”

“No. No. Thank you, Vlad. I’ll think about this.”

Maddie’s line clicked dead. A chuckle built to Vlad’s lips and he let his head tip back with mirth. It lasted only a moment. He stowed his phone. And as if the interruption had never happened, Vlad reaffixed his attention on his own portal swirling in front of him. It bathed him, swimming green, purring contentment.

And Vlad vanished into his portal.

(Chapter 2)

#danny phantom #dp #dp fanfiction #GIVES YOU THIS GIVES YOU THIS GIVES YOU THIS #its my favorite headcanon so here you get a fic of it

2K notes · View notes

girlgenius1111 · 2 months ago

Text

learning curve part 2

alexia putellas x reader [& r's nephew] will tries to adjust, and so do r and alexia. a phone call and a nightmare dampen will's spirits, but alexia and r try prove that they are there for him. very soft fluff. angst. kidfic. shorter chapter but wanted to get this out before finals kill me hope you enjoy❤️‍🩹

There were so many good moments in being… well, not a parent. Being whatever you were to Will. Moments that you swore made your heart grow, like when Alexia would give him a piggyback ride around the house and he’d giggle until he was out of breath, or when he’d lift up his plate at dinner to very proudly show you he’d eaten all his vegetables.

The reality was, however, that Will was a traumatized kid, living in a foreign country that spoke an entirely different language to him. Far away from his favorite person in the world, far away from everything he’d ever known. And while Will mostly trusted you, you were still practically a stranger to him, and Alexia was a stranger to him.

Will was an anxious kid, with a lot to adjust to, and some days he didn’t want you. He didn’t want to be in Spain. He wanted to go back home and be with his Dad. That was just the one thing in the world you couldn’t give him.

—

It was only the end of the first week of having Will living with you, and you hadn’t quite perfected your routine. It was Saturday, and he was due to start school on Monday, and though he hadn’t said anything, you could tell he was dreading it. Even with the new backpack and new light up shoes you’d gotten him, his little face grew so solemn whenever the topic of school was brought up.

It had been an oddly calm week, which you were more than grateful for. Pere had taken you both out of the traveling squad for the weekend without either of you even asking. He insisted family was the most important thing, and you guys were facing a team at the bottom of the table anyway. So, with only a few training sessions and several days off, you and Alexia had been trying to get Will settled.

One of the first things you’d done upon arriving back in Spain was finding Will a child psychologist. He hadn’t met with her yet, but she’d listened to the situation and given you a few tips on how to help Will adjust. And though there was a hoard of teammates and friends very eager to meet your nephew, one of the psychologist’s tips had been to take things slow, especially with introducing him to people. Too much, all at once, would just remind Will how much had changed. He didn’t need to be overwhelmed right now.

Taking her advice, Will hadn’t met anyone before yesterday, when you and Alexia brought him over to Alexia’s mami’s house for dinner. He met Eli and Alba, instantly taking to Alexia’s sister. It wasn’t surprising; she was a teacher for young kids, and was already sitting on the floor at the coffee table coloring when the three of you had walked in. He’d spent most of the evening silently playing with her, his wide eyes flickering over to you every few minutes, as if to ensure that you were still there.

It had been a late night, and even the limited conversation that Will had engaged in had seemed to drain him. He’d fallen asleep in the car on the way home, as you’d found he was very prone to doing. Alexia had carried him inside, his face smushed into her shoulder as her arms wrapped around him protectively. He woke, very grumpily, when you had him change into his pajamas and brush his teeth, passing right back out the minute his head hit his pillow.

Will liked his sleep, you’d learned, and it wasn’t a surprise that after such a draining and long day, he’d slept in. It was nearing 10, though, and you didn’t think kids this little were supposed to sleep this late. Alexia and you had had a slow, quiet morning, enjoying the time alone together more than you would have just a week ago. Now, as you lay on the couch snuggled against your girlfriend’s side watching the team play on the TV, the now very familiar anxiety began to invade your every thought.

“Should we wake him up?” You wondered, shifting to look at Alexia’s face. Her eyes remained locked on the TV, and it took a few seconds for the question to process.

“I’m not sure, amor. If he’s tired, should we let him sleep? It’s been a long week.”

“I know, but–”

“Tia?” Will’s voice called from the doorway, small and trembling. Your head whipped around to look at him, hesitating in the doorway as he rubbed at his eyes with his fists. He was crying, or trying not to cry, you couldn’t tell.

“Hey, buddy. What’s wrong?” You asked gently, opening your arms and gesturing for him to come closer. The TV turned off as Alexia tore her attention away from the match and looked to Will with concern.

“I-I want my Dad.” Will mumbled, taking a step further into the room but not taking you up on the unspoken offer for a hug.

“Do you want to call him, sweetheart?” Your heart truly broke at the sad look on his face, and as much as you wished you could just fix it for him, you knew you couldn’t.

Will considered for a moment, taking another half step forward before nodding. “Yes, please.”

Luckily, the prison Leo was incarcerated in allowed inmates to receive phone calls, though it took a while for the call to get connected. You had to call the prison, request to talk to Leo, and if he was available, they’d bring him to the phone area. The process could take anywhere from 10-20 minutes, but Will wasn’t looking especially patient at the moment, his eyes wide and filled with tears as he watched you grab your phone off the table.

“Will, cariño, why don’t we go get you some breakfast while we wait for your Papi to pick up?” Alexia asked, standing and holding her hand out towards the boy.

“‘M not hungry.” Will murmured, fidgeting nervously with the hem of his pajama shirt.

Alexia hummed, moving cautiously towards Will and squatting down so she was eye level with him. “You might be hungry when you get off the phone, and if we start making pancakes now, they will be ready just in time.”

The suggestion seemed to pique Will’s interest, even in his very solemn mood. “Okay. Pancakes.”

He wrapped his hand around two of Alexia’s fingers and she smiled happily, leading him into the kitchen.

They got to work making the pancake batter, Alexia allowing Will to help her measure out the ingredients as you waited to hear the sound of your brother’s voice come over the phone.

Just as Leo came over the line, you heard a faint giggle come from the kitchen, and you smiled despite yourself. Alexia could always seem to get Will to laugh, no matter what mood he was in. You said hi to your brother, before calling for your nephew. His steps padded quickly from the kitchen into the living room, reaching for the phone with a somewhat desperate air to him.

“Hi Dad.” Will greeted, sitting down on the edge of the couch. You couldn’t quite hear what your brother was saying, and you wanted to give Will some privacy, so you headed for the kitchen. Trying to tune out the conversation in the other room, you headed right for Alexia, who was stood at the stove, waiting for the perfect moment to flip the pancakes. You wrapped your arms around her, pressing your front to her back and sighing heavily.

Alexia didn’t say anything in response at first, just placed her free hand over yours and squeezed.

“Does this look like a heart, amor?” She inquired after a moment. You peeked over her shoulder, smiling despite yourself at the vaguely heart shaped pancake in the pan.

“It does.” You lied, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “Although I think Will would prefer a dinosaur.”

Alexia chuckled. “I do not think I am that talented yet. Besides, he only cares about the syrup, not the shape of the pancake. The heart is for you.”

Your cheeks flushed because no matter how much time passed, you were quite sure Alexia would always stun you a little with her sweet gestures.

“I love you.” You murmured, a bit overwhelmed with softness for your girlfriend at that moment. Whether it was the barely heart shaped pancake or the gentleness and kindness she showed Will, you weren’t sure.

“Te amo más.” Alexia replied, and you didn’t have to see her face to hear the small smile in her voice.

As soon as you heard Will’s faint goodbye, you headed back into the living room. Your nephew didn’t look any happier, still perched on the edge of the couch, though now he was fully crying into his hands.

“All done, buddy?” You called, feeling your chest tighten as Will jumped a bit and hastily began to wipe at his face with his hands.

He nodded, handing your phone back to you without looking in your direction or saying a word.

“Are you okay, Will?” You inquired, sitting next to him on the couch.

He shrugged, lip quivering as he tried to hold in his cries. “Sorry.”

“Sweetheart, you don’t need to be sorry about being sad.” You told him, reaching over and lifting him into your lap. He curled into you, his hand twisting into the fabric of your shirt. “You can be sad, and you can cry. This is really hard and you’re being so brave, but it’s okay to cry.”

Will began to cry in earnest now, and you tried not to tear up yourself at the pain he was feeling, pain that was much too big for such a young kid.

“I want my Dad.” Will whispered brokenly, clutching tighter to your shirt.

“I know, I know you do. I’m sorry sweetheart.”

There wasn’t much else you could do but whisper reassurances and try your best to comfort him. It wasn’t enough, you knew. Because you weren’t Leo. And Will just wanted his dad.

—

It had been a long week for everyone. The emotional weight that you were carrying was taking its toll, and you’d never been more desperate for a good night's sleep before in your life. Alexia could see it on your face, the physical and mental exhaustion, and she insisted you get in bed when just after Will had gone to sleep.

Much too exhausted to really put up much of an argument, you showered quickly and threw on some pajamas. Alexia brushed your hair for you, something she knew always made you sleepy, before tucking you into bed and flicking the light off. You frowned at that, grabbing her hand when she tried to rise from the bed.

“Where are you going?”

“The living room is a mess and I was going to finish the laundry–”

“Alexia, you’re tired too. Please just come to bed. I won’t be able to fall asleep without you.”

A small smile flickered across her face, and she realized how utterly powerless she was to say no to you when you asked something of her, especially something this needy. Alexia knew better than anyone how hard it was for you to be vulnerable. She’d promised herself long ago that she’d be here if you needed her, especially when you asked for her.

So, she nodded, kissing you softly on the lips. “Okay, mi amor. If that is what you need.”

Alexia made quick work of locking the front door, running through her nighttime routine and checking to make sure Will was soundly asleep before crawling into bed next to you. Her body molded into the back of yours, arms holding you tight against her.

“You stole my favorite pajama shirt.” She whispered into your ear, hand sliding up the front of the stolen shirt to rest across your abdomen.

You turned in her hold, pressing your face into her neck and adjusting until you were comfortable. “It smells like you.”

Alexia grinned into the top of your head at your sleepy voice, settling back into the pillows. “You can keep it, then.”

She was sure she looked like a lovesick fool, holding you tightly against your chest, smiling hugely in the darkness, but she didn’t care. She really loved that she got to love you.

—

Alexia wasn’t a very heavy sleeper, which normally was a point of annoyance for her. However, when she woke up just a few hours after falling asleep, she wasn’t upset.

It was a quiet whimper coming from down the hall that pulled her awake, and it only took her a minute of confusion before she realized the source.

Will.

You’d been leaving both his bedroom door and your bedroom door open in an attempt to convince him to come wake you if he needed you. Will was independent, insisting on doing everything himself because he was a ‘big boy,’ but you never wanted him to feel deterred from seeking you out if he needed comfort.

Alexia sat up, rubbing at her eyes and listening just to make sure she’d heard correctly. When a small sob reached her ears, she slipped out of bed, making sure not to disturb you.

If Will needed you, she wouldn’t hesitate to get you. But if this was something she could help with without waking you, she’d prefer that. You were so tired. More than that, she didn’t want you to feel like Will was just your responsibility. She’d made it clear she was staying, that she was here for both of you, and she intended to prove that to you through her actions.

So, she padded down the hall towards Will’s room, her heart dropping when she found him sitting up, the covers scrunched up at the bottom of his bed, his face wet with tears. He was hugging one of his dinosaurs close to his chest, and Alexia could tell even from the doorway that he was trembling.

“Hey cariño.” She whispered, stepping into the room. “Are you okay?”

It was a stupid question because it was very clear that Will was not okay, but Alexia asked anyway, frowning sympathetically when the small boy shook his head back and forth rapidly in response.

“Did you have a bad dream?” Alexia wondered, walking over to Will’s bed and sitting on the edge of it. He didn’t reach for her, so she didn’t reach for him, though she left her hand on the bed right in front of him, palm up in case he wanted to grab it.

This time, Will nodded, using the soft fur of his dinosaur to wipe the tears off his cheek.

“A really bad one,” Will mumbled, his voice shaky and thick with tears.

Alexia was quiet for a moment, not quite sure what she should do. Should she get you? Should she try to talk it through with him? She hadn’t realized until this moment how much taking care of a kid came down to the smallest decisions.

“Would you like a hug?” She offered finally, opening her arms. To her surprise, Will quickly slid out from under his covers and scrambled into her lap, wrapping his arms tightly around her neck. She held him carefully, rubbing her hand up and down his back as he sniffled. “Okay. Okay, we’re okay. You are safe, cariño.”

Miraculously, Will seemed to be calming down, and it wasn’t much longer before he loosened his grip on her and rested his head against her chest.

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

“You… you and my Tia went away. Like my Dad. I couldn’t find you guys and I was all alone again.” Will whispered, his voice quiet as if speaking any louder would make the nightmare come true.

“That sounds really scary, Will.” Alexia said carefully, feeling Will nod into her. “You aren’t alone. Me and your Tia are not going anywhere. We’re here to take care of you, and we aren’t going to leave you alone, ever.”

It was the best she could come up with. She marvelled at how you always seemed to know what to say to Will, not having realized how hard that seemingly simple task could be. The midfielder was unsure if her words had helped at all especially when Will was quiet for a few long moments.

“Promise?” He whispered finally, his hand twisting into the fabric of her shirt.

Alexia bit her lip, fighting a wave of tears that threatened to fall. A 5 year old should never have to feel this way, should never have to be this scared that he was going to be left behind.

“I promise.” Alexia replied, leaving a kiss on the top of Will’s brown waves.

“Alexia?” Will asked.

Alexia fought back a smile, this time, because it was the first time Will had addressed her by her name. She hummed in response, nodding for him to ask his question.

“Can I sleep in your bed? With you and my Tia?” His voice was quiet, tentative, and he seemed almost resigned, as if he was sure the answer would be no.

But Alexia couldn’t say no, not when Will was sitting in front of her with tears still wet on his face. So much was changing for him, and he was doing a remarkable job adjusting to it all. Still, if he needed some extra comfort… who was Alexia to deny that? Especially when she knew you’d say yes without a second thought.

“Of course you can. Your Tia is still sleeping and she’s very tired so we have to be quiet.”

Will nodded fervently, tucking his dinosaur under one arm and reaching up for Alexia’s hand with his other. Together, they walked back down the hall, feet padding softly on wood.

Alexia lifted Will into her arms as they walked through the door, in the darkness misjudging the distance she had between her and the foot of the bed. Her toe collided with it painfully, and she yelped quietly, freezing to make sure you didn’t stir.

“Shh.” Will said, brows furrowed as his small hand moved to cover Alexia’s mouth. She fought back a smile, nodding and placing Will onto the bed. He moved slowly over into the middle of the bed, letting Alexia tuck the covers up around him before climbing in herself.

She’d expected Will to snuggle up against you, but her heart melted when she felt him scooch closer to her, resting his head on her arm.

“Goodnight Alexia.” He whispered, so quiet Alexia had to strain to hear him.

“Goodnight cariño.” Alexia whispered back, leaning down to kiss the top of his head.

She was wide awake even as Will’s breaths began to even out, and the boy fell asleep, but she didn’t mind.

She’d stay up for a while. Just in case he needed anything.

—

not the biggest fan of this but the next chapter is already planned and i'm very excited about it

thanks for reading ❤️

#woso one shot #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader

856 notes · View notes

littlelamy · 3 months ago

Note

omggg more trophy wife reader and dad rafe!!!!!

hope you like it! ⭐️As you sipped your morning coffee in the sunlit kitchen, you felt Rafe’s arms slip around your waist. You leaned into his embrace, a warm smile already forming as he pressed a kiss to your temple.

“You know,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth against your ear, “you’ve been working so damn hard at looking this good. I think it’s time I gave my gorgeous wife a little break.”

You tilted your head to look up at him, raising a brow in playful suspicion. “A break?”

He nodded, that familiar spark lighting up his eyes. “Yeah, baby. Just you and me, on a little escape. Thought we could take the jet and get the hell out of here for the weekend. Maybe somewhere with beaches, crystal-clear water… Bora Bora sound good?”

Your heart skipped a beat. A spontaneous trip to Bora Bora with your loving, impossibly charming husband? Rafe had a knack for sweeping you off your feet just when you needed it most.

“What about the kids?” you asked, though the excitement was already building.

“Sarah said she’d take care of them for us,” he replied with a grin. “And, well, John B too. But don’t worry—Sarah’s got it handled.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, knowing Sarah’s responsible nature meant you could leave without a worry in the world, even if John B tagged along.

Within hours, you were on the jet, Rafe sitting close enough to reach for your hand whenever he wanted, his gaze lingering on you like you were the only thing that mattered. The flight was long, but with Rafe, every second felt exciting, like the anticipation was part of the fun. When you finally landed in Bora Bora, the warm, tropical breeze welcomed you, along with Rafe’s arm slung around your waist.

After checking into a luxurious overwater bungalow with panoramic views of turquoise water and Mount Otemanu in the distance, Rafe guided you to the finest boutiques in Vaitape, his arm resting possessively around your waist as he led you through each store, his attention unwavering. He watched you try on outfits, his gaze lingering just a little too long, his words low and flirtatious.

“That dress,” he said, leaning close, his fingers brushing your arm as you showed him the deep, fitted silk gown, “fits you like it was fucking made for you. But then again, everything looks incredible on you.” He tilted his head, a playful smirk forming. “Or off you. Either way, it’s perfect.”

You felt your cheeks warm as you turned back to the mirror, pretending to study the dress while you caught him watching you through the reflection, admiration practically radiating from him.

The afternoon continued with him indulging your every whim. Shoes, dresses, jewelry—Rafe insisted on all of it. As you browsed, he found excuses to pull you close, whispering little compliments, his voice laced with that confident charm that never failed to make you feel like the only woman in the world.

Later, as the day faded into a golden evening, Rafe arranged for a private dinner with a view over the lagoon, where the soft waves lapped beneath you and the sky turned pink and orange above. You sat across from him, candles flickering softly between you, casting warm light across his face.

“I love seeing you like this,” he said, leaning forward, his eyes tracing over your features. “Spoiled, relaxed. You fucking deserve it, you know.”

You smirked, raising a brow. “You’re spoiling me, Rafe. What did I ever do to deserve a husband who takes me halfway across the world just to treat me?”

He chuckled, his hand reaching across the table to catch yours, thumb brushing over your knuckles in a slow, reassuring rhythm. “Just by being you, sweetheart. You’re stunning, charming, and somehow, all mine. I’m the lucky bastard.”

As the night went on, Rafe didn’t let a moment go by without reminding you how much he adored you. His flirting was relentless, with just enough edge to keep you smiling and blushing.

By the time you returned to your bungalow, the soft sound of water below and a starlit sky above, you felt completely cherished and at ease, like there was no place you’d rather be. And as Rafe pulled you close, murmuring one last promise to keep making days like this for you, you knew you’d never doubt just how damn much this man adored you.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @dinakisser @rafecameroninterlude @sstargirln

#rafe obx #rafe cameron #rafe imagine #outerbanks rafe #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe outer banks #rafe fic #rafe #rafe cameron x reader #dad!rafe cameron #dad!rafe au #dad!rafe x trophywife #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron blurb

572 notes · View notes

punkshort · 6 months ago

Text

Home

Pairing: (Hallmark) Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: You finally move in with Joel and Sarah.

Warnings: language, fluff (the cheesy hallmark kind), established relationship, reader has a previously explained nickname, smut (18+ MDNI), oral (f!receiving), unprotected piv sex

WC: 4.8K

Series Masterlist

Dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics

Joel was nervous. He never really got nervous, but that particular day, he was nervous.

Sure, it was a big step in your relationship. Or maybe it was because months ago when he asked your father's permission to marry you, he promised he would wait until you moved in together.

And now, that day had arrived.

Where did the time go? He swore it just flew right on by, time that was filled with memories of dinners, parties, dates and holidays together. He hadn't planned what he would say and he felt woefully unprepared. He hadn't even talked to Sarah about it yet.

Just because today is the day you're moving in doesn't mean today is the day I need to ask, he thought to himself. Still, it was a big step. A big, symbolic gesture on both your ends. One that screamed, I'm in this for the long haul.

"Mornin', babygirl," Joel said sleepily as he entered the kitchen, Sarah already sitting at the table in front of an empty bowl and scrolling quietly on her phone.

"Hey," she responded distractedly. He poured himself a cup of coffee and looked around the room. It would be the last morning in his kitchen that didn't include you, and the thought made warmth bloom in his chest and excitement flicker under his skin.

"Big day," he said, but Sarah only nodded. "Y'know, been meanin' to talk to you 'bout somethin'."

She pulled her gaze up from her phone and cocked her head to the side. "Yeah?"

He nodded and took a deep breath before sitting across the table from her. He told her it was about you and she sat back in her chair.

"Bucky?"

He nodded, the silly nickname coming from his daughter's lips that only previously came from your immediate family making him smile.

"You know I'm cool with her moving in, we talked about it months ago. I think it's great. She's amazing and we have so much fun-"

"It's not that," he said, cutting her off before he lost his nerve. "One day - and I ain't sayin' today - but one day, I wanna ask her to marry me."

Sarah just continued to stare blankly at him, so he continued.

"I love her so much, babygirl. She means so much to me, 'n so does her family. I can't imagine my life, our life, without her."

"Yeah, duh," she replied, giving him an incredulous look. "Obviously if she's moving in I figured that would be the next step."

He frowned. "You did?"

"Dad," she whined, rolling her eyes. "I'm seventeen now. Soon, I'll be in college. I want you to be happy. I don't want to worry about you being sad and alone when I'm gone."

"Gee, thanks," he scoffed over his mug, and she giggled.

"What I'm saying is, I think it's great. Go for it. She'll totally say yes."

He scratched the back of his neck nervously. "Yeah?"

Sarah gave him a deadpan look. "Yes, Dad. She's moving in with you. She's not expecting friendship bracelets."

He smirked and looked down at his coffee. One thing was checked off the list, now he had to think about when and how he would ask you.

It was a long day.

You hadn't even lived in Texas for a full year yet but you managed to accumulate a lot more shit than you thought. Fortunately, between Joel, Tommy, your dad and Josh, your brother in law, all the furniture was quickly unloaded. The time consuming part was working out the angles in hallways and stairs. Since Joel and Sarah already had more than enough furniture, the two of you decided to put your old couch and television in the basement, an idea which Sarah excitedly jumped on board with.

You could hear the men grunting and talking through different ideas on how to get your couch into the basement all the way from Joel's - your - bedroom upstairs with Sarah.

"I am obsessed with this purse," Sarah sighed, tossing a red leather Michael Kors tote over her shoulder. Prior to living in Texas, you lived in New York City and had created quite the collection of designer clothes and accessories thanks mostly to your ex-fiancé. Since moving, you found very little use for most of it and your style evolved to one that was much more relaxed and comfortable. More you.

"Keep it," you told her as you opened up a box of your bathroom things. She gawked at you while you began to drag the box towards the bathroom, already smiling to yourself as you thought about Joel seeing all the girly face masks and perfumes cluttering his once rather masculine space.

"Are you serious?"

You glanced up at her and shrugged. "Sure. I haven't used it in a year and I have plenty more. It's all yours."

"Oh, my god," she murmured, holding the bag close to her chest. "Thank you!"

You grinned and pulled out bottles of shampoo and conditioner. "Don't mention it."

There was a loud thud that came from the basement and you both froze, waiting to hear panicked calls for help, but after a moment laughter erupted amongst the men and you both exchanged looks of relief.

"I bet Dad that Uncle Tommy would be the one to hurt himself," she told you, crouching to help unpack more of your toiletries.

You laughed and shook your head. "You're probably right."

Glancing at the time, you stood up and weaved your way through the boxes littering the floor to grab your wallet laying on the bed.

"Would you mind calling in a couple pizzas for delivery?" you asked Sarah, handing her your credit card. She nodded and patted down her pants.

"Shoot. I think I left my phone in my room," she said as she headed towards the door. "Ronny's Pizza, right?"

"Yeah, that's good," you called after her before stubbing your toe on a half empty cardboard box. "Shit," you muttered angrily, then squat down to scoop up what was left in the box and get it out of your way.

Wrestling with an armful of socks and bras, you carefully made your way to the dresser and yanked open a drawer. You mistakenly had opened Joel's underwear drawer instead of the one he had emptied for you, but right as you were about to close it, something caught your eye. Was that...? Slowly, you reached forward and nudged a pair of boxers out of the way so you could get a better look.

Your eyes went wide and your heart jumped into your throat when you saw the small, black velvet box nestled between his things. The fingers holding up the pair of underwear began to shake and you nervously swallowed the lump in your throat.

Maybe it was a class ring.

Maybe it was a piece of his mom's jewelry he saved for Sarah.

Or maybe it was a fucking engagement ring.

You heard creaking on the stairs and you quickly dropped the boxers back over the box and slammed the drawer shut. By the time Joel entered the room, you had successfully found your drawer and were halfway done putting your clothes away.

"Hey, darlin'," he murmured, sidling up behind you. He buried his nose in your shoulder and slowly circled his arms around your waist.

"Hey, yourself," you replied, hoping your voice sounded normal and he couldn't feel your heart slamming in your chest. Already got the ring he had said to you drunkenly the night before your sister gave birth. "How are things going down there?" you asked, trying to refocus and get your mind off what you just saw.

Joel breathed in deep and began to sway you both back and forth. "Good. Everythin's all set. Got a nice man cave set up now."

You giggled and closed your drawer before turning around in his arms. "Man cave, huh?"

"That's right," he said softly with a grin. "Gonna be great in 'nother month when football season starts."

"I don't know, I think Sarah was already making plans to have her girlfriends over down there. Might cramp your man cave style," you told him, arms draping loosely around his neck.

"'S'alright, I just give her a hundred bucks and let her borrow the car and then it's all mine," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss against your throat. "Be nice to have some privacy down there, too," he added, tilting his head in the other direction so he could give the other side of your neck the same attention.

"Yeah? Privacy for what?" you teased, chin lifting up to give him better access. You felt him chuckle against your skin.

"For anythin' we want," he replied, tearing his mouth away from your shoulder so he could brush his lips gently over yours.

"Mmm, like board games?" you asked, giggling when his lips froze and his face pulled away, giving you a look of disbelief.

"Is that what we're callin' it?"

You nodded and stretched onto your tiptoes so you could kiss him again.

"Okay, the pizza'll be here - oh. Gross," Sarah said when she appeared in the doorway. You pulled away and grinned while Joel looked over his shoulder with a frown.

"Gross?" he repeated, voice laced with disgust. "Seein' me happy is gross?"

Sarah rolled her eyes as she navigated the minefield of boxes in the room to hand you back your credit card. "Is this what it's gonna be like now? You guys sucking face in every room?"

"Hate to tell you, kiddo, but it's always been that way," you told her as you dropped your arms from around Joel's neck to take your card back.

"Pizza?" he questioned excitedly as if he just processed what Sarah said, and you nodded.

"Figured you guys would be hungry."

Joel groaned in delight and wrapped his arms around you once again, making you laugh.

"Alright, gimme a second to leave at least," Sarah said, turning towards the door as quickly as possible, but not before you caught the smile on her face.

"Hey, can I give you a hand?" Tommy asked as he entered your kitchen. You could hear Josh, your father, Sarah and Joel laughing in the living room with the television on in the background.

"Oh, Tommy, that's so sweet but I got it. You've done so much already today, thank you for your help," you said with a smile as you continued to clean up the pizza. Tommy leaned against the counter and watched you move around his brother's kitchen like you had been there your whole life, and he couldn't help but smile.

"You look right at home already," he told you, making your cheeks warm. You pulled out some foil and shrugged.

"I've stayed over a couple times, what can I say?"

He chuckled and continued to watch you work quietly for a moment.

"Say, what'dya think 'bout you and Joel goin' on a double date with me and Maria?"

"Oh, I would love that!" you exclaimed, meeting his gaze briefly as you moved towards the fridge. "Must be getting serious if you're ready to introduce her to family, huh?"

"Yeah, I think so," Tommy said, shyly looking down at the tile floor. "She's so pretty. Smart, too. And funny. We have such a great time together. I'll tell you, I ain't ever remember feelin' this way 'bout a girl before."

Your jaw hung open in shock after you turned away from the closed fridge. "Tommy! This is... amazing!"

He scratched the back of his neck and grinned. "Yeah, it is," he agreed warmly.

"He botherin' you, baby?" Joel asked as he strolled into the kitchen with a beer in his hand. He shot you a wink right after Tommy gave him the finger.

"I was just telling Tommy we should go on a double date with him and Maria," you said, leaning into the hug he gave you. Tommy gave you a thumbs up behind Joel's back and you smiled over his shoulder, knowing intuitively that his brother would tease him mercilessly if he knew Tommy was the one with the idea instead of you.

"Oh, yeah?" Joel asked, pulling back to look at Tommy. He nodded.

"Yeah, sounds like fun. Maybe grab some drinks down at Mike's. Play some pool."

"Alright. Set it up, can't wait to meet her," Joel told him before squeezing past you to get another beer from the refrigerator.

The men spent another hour or so relaxing in the living room while you and Sarah did the best you could to clear up the remaining boxes in your bedroom. You did rather well, too. By the time everyone was ready to say good night, you only had two boxes left, both of which you stacked and shoved into a corner to deal with the next day.

You were looking forward to collapsing into bed after a long, eventful day when Sarah asked if she could go to the movies with a few of her friends.

"Please, Dad? School starts up in a couple weeks," she begged, and Joel didn't have the heart to tell her she didn't need to bother to beg. He handed her some money from his wallet and she rushed up to her bedroom to get ready, announcing her friend Katy would pick her up in twenty minutes.

"Strange how Katy knew to pick her up before I said it was alright," Joel told you with a fake look of confusion. You laughed and plopped next to him on the couch, resting your head on his shoulder while he flipped through the channels on the television.

You wrapped your hand around his bicep and snuggled in closer as he wavered back and forth between two different action movies. When you really thought about it, it was funny. Your life was so different just a year ago. You were engaged to someone else, living in New York City, wearing expensive clothes and dining at restaurants you didn't really care for but your fiancé did, so you pretended to like them, too. Now you were living a completely different life. One of comfort and love and joy and you had never felt happier.

As if he could read your mind, Joel lifted his arm and tugged you closer by the shoulders, then planted a kiss on the top of your head, further emphasizing how perfect your life seemed now.

"I'm coming downstairs now! Stop making out!" Sarah warned as she stomped down the steps. You stifled your laughter and Joel shot her a scowl.

"We're just watchin' TV."

"And I'm just covering my bases," she said with a grin, holding her hands up in surrender. A faint beep came from the road and she grabbed the purse you had given her earlier that day and said, "don't wait up!" over her shoulder before the door clicked shut.

"Don't wait up?" Joel repeated with a snort. "She's seventeen goin' on thirty."

You giggled and gazed up at him from your place against his side. "You wanna play some board games?"

He looked confused for a moment before the realization dawned on him.

"Hell, yes."

The basement looked nicer than you expected. It wasn't completely finished but there was an area Joel had built a wall around and painted years ago. He had installed a drop ceiling and some laminate flooring but he never got around to actually doing much else with it until you moved in and had extra furniture. An area rug from your old apartment was in the center of the room, your old couch resting on top and your television was placed on your entertainment center across from the sofa. You had some floor lamps and end tables you could arrange in the space later on but for now, it was nice.

But all that didn't really matter that particular day. Not when your shorts dangled around one ankle, which was slung over the back of the couch, your legs spread wide as Joel kneeled on the area rug, his fingers gripping your hips as his tongue feverishly lapped at your pussy.

"Fuck, Joel... I'm close," you whined, hand clawing at his hair, your hips grinding shamelessly against his face. He just groaned, eyes fluttering closed as he drank you in, your scent engulfing him, absolutely loving the way you fell apart under his tongue.

"Joel," you gasped, mouth hung open as your gaze fixed on the top of his head. "Joel, d-do t-that thing-" you moaned loudly, cutting yourself off when he repeatedly grazed his teeth over your clit while working two fingers into your cunt, curling them so they pressed against that one spot he knew drove you crazy each time he dragged them in and out.

A moment later, your body went rigid and tears sprung to your eyes as you came, ragged groans melting into quiet little whimpers until he finally pulled away from the center of your thighs. His eyes were dark and wild as he panted for air, watching you with a cocky smirk as you struggled to come to your senses.

"Gonna let me fuck you now, baby?" he murmured, his pants already pushed halfway down his legs. You nodded in a daze, thighs trembling still when he stepped out of his jeans and kneeled onto the couch. He hovered over you, pressing his thick length against your pussy while he bent forward to bite and suck at your throat.

You gasped sharply and grabbed his shoulders when he first entered you. The initial stretch always took your breath away, regardless if he made you come first or not. You came to crave that feeling, those first few seconds of intrusion that made your mind go blank and your heart stutter before your body made room for him and relaxed. And because you knew he loved to hear it, your mouth found his ear and you whimpered, "so big," and you smiled when you heard his responding growl.

A few days before you moved in with Joel, you laid awake at night in your apartment, thinking back to your relationship before him. When you moved in with Will, it seemed like something shifted almost immediately, and not in a good way. The spark fizzled out as you adjusted to living with one another, putting up with each other's quirks and bad habits. Logically, you knew that spark was dying before you moved in together but at the time, you didn't want to admit it. But anxiety still crept up and you wondered if the same thing would happen with Joel.

What a stupid thing to worry about.

What you had with Joel was so different, it was hard to describe. But it was a feeling, something deep inside that couldn't be denied. This was special. This was unlike anything you ever experienced before and it was foolish to try to compare it to anything else.

As if you needed further proof, Joel sensed your mind had drifted elsewhere and he nipped at your lower lip to draw your attention back to him.

"What's wrong?" he whispered when you met his gaze. His hips had slowed down, worried you were uncomfortable and didn't want to say it. You slowly smiled and draped your arms around his neck, looking up at him with such love and adoration that he couldn't stop himself from smiling in return.

"Nothing's wrong. Everything's perfect," you told him. You tugged him down so you could give him a kiss, then mumbled, "you're perfect," against his mouth.

Joel flushed and shook his head gently, resuming his steady pace. Sometimes he had a hard time believing you were real. He spent a good chunk of his adult life thinking he would never find true love and after a few years of loneliness, he grew to accept that. He threw himself into his work and focused on raising Sarah but when he met you, it was like everything changed. He couldn't stop thinking about you to the point where he would have been content with just getting to know you better, but the moment he first felt your lips against his, he knew he didn't stand a chance. But when he first made love to you, it was all over. He knew within seconds he could never let you go, and he never did.

"You're the one who's perfect. God, so fuckin' tight," he groaned, flexing his hips with a little more force. You rewarded him with a sweet little moan and tipped your head back into the couch. "That feel good, baby?" he breathed, watching with pride as you writhed underneath him.

"Yeah," you whispered before sinking your teeth into your lower lip, skin already red and sensitive from where his own teeth had laid claim. "Again. Harder, Joel," you pleaded, and his eyelids fluttered as he tried to slow down his own orgasm that was already growing all too quickly.

He gave you what you wanted, hips snapping into yours roughly. Your whole body rocked beneath him, breasts bouncing free under your thin T-shirt, jaw slack and back arched so beautifully he had to look away before he came too soon.

"Oh, fuck, Joel," you whined, face pinching as he forced another orgasm to the surface with each powerful thrust.

"You like that?" he murmured, his dark eyes raking over your body greedily. "Tell me, baby. C'mon, wanna hear it."

"Yes," you whimpered, eyes still screwed shut, "feel so fucking good, Joel, fuck... so... so deep, I want more." You took in a deep breath, your release so close you could taste it. "More... don't stop, please... I-I need..." you were rambling now, unable to form a full sentence, barely aware you were saying anything at all and fuck, did he love being the one to make you do that. Make you lose control and give in, putting all your faith and trust in him to give you what you want. To make you feel good.

"I know what you need," he said through gritted teeth, then grabbed ahold of your hip and ground himself roughly against your cunt. Your eyes flew open and he smiled when you cried out, clenching around him after only two or three passes over your clit.

You were whispering his name mixed with something else incoherent as you came down and he couldn't hold himself back any longer. He slammed into you over and over, eyes fixed on the way your pussy strained around his girth, his cock all shiny and slick with your arousal and he came with a loud groan, thrusting into you deep and slow until he was spent.

His arms began to tremble so he slowly lowered himself down to rest the side of his head against your chest and instantly, your hands came up to card through his hair. He sighed and closed his eyes, soaking in your gentle touch as his heart began to slow.

"Do you think it will always be like this?" you asked softly, fingers still threading through his curls.

"Yeah, I do," Joel replied, eyes still shut as he nuzzled into your chest.

"Good. Me, too."

Maria was fun.

You knew immediately you would get along. Her sense of humor and her carefree attitude completely contradicted her profession as a newly appointed Assistant District Attorney, and you absolutely loved how full of surprises she was, especially how good she was at pool.

"Y'know, we just let you girls win," Joel teased when he put his pool cue down.

"Oh, yeah? Is that why I heard you and Tommy talking strategy on my way back from the bathroom?" you shot back. He grinned and tugged you into his chest, kissing the crown of your head before releasing you.

"C'mon, Tommy. Losers buy the next round," he said, giving his younger brother a playful shove. Tommy squeezed Maria's hand and gave her a warm smile before following Joel to the bar, leaving just you two to find an empty table. Maria spotted one right when a group of four were standing up to leave and she grabbed your arm, practically dragging you across the crowded floor to snag it before someone else did.

"Good eye!" you told her when you slid into the booth, the green, plastic cushion underneath you essentially useless after years of being flattened and never replaced. The table was sticky from spilled beer and droplets of hot sauce, so you each got to work yanking handfuls of napkins out of the dispenser at the end of the table and squirting hand sanitizer over the tabletop to clean the area as best you could.

"I don't think Tommy told me how long you two've been together," Maria said, her eyes lifting to search the bar for your dates.

"Uh, eight months or so," you told her, "we met right before Christmas."

She raised her eyebrows and smiled. "I would have guessed much longer. It feels like you know each other so well."

You could feel your cheeks warm from the compliment. It was clear to you what you had with Joel was special but it was always nice to hear others could see it, too.

"What about you and Tommy? He's been keeping you a secret but I want to guess... two months?"

"Three, actually," she corrected you. "We both agreed to take things slow. I had just gotten this job and I knew I would be putting in long hours, I wasn't really sure if I had the time to devote to a relationship but he stuck it out. I really thought he was going to bail when I kept having to call it early so many nights and cancel dates last minute but he's a trooper."

You leaned across the table and wiggled your eyebrows at her. "That's 'cause he really likes you."

She giggled and waved you off but you could see the delight in her eyes.

"I'm serious! I've only known him for as long as I've known Joel but from what I was told, Tommy didn't bring girls around often. Especially lately. You must be special," you teased, making her smile widen.

Unbeknownst to you, across the bar, Tommy and Joel were having a similar conversation.

Now that Tommy had a few beers in him, he was more open to telling his brother about Maria and how happy he was with her.

"I'm tellin' you, Joel, I think she's the one," he was saying, slamming down an empty shot glass next to Joel's on the messy bar top.

"I like her, she keeps you in line," Joel quipped, taking a sip from his beer to chase the shot of whiskey. "Girls are gettin' along real good, too."

Tommy nodded and looked across the bar. "And how's things goin' with you two? She wanna move out yet?"

Joel laughed and shook his head. "Nah, it's only been two weeks. It'll probably take at least a month 'fore she realizes she made a mistake," he joked.

Tommy chuckled but caught the fond look in Joel's eye when he thought about you.

"So, you think this is it for us?" he asked, and Joel glanced up from his beer. "We finally found the ones?"

The corner of his mouth pulled up into a smirk and he nodded.

"Hope so." Then maybe he was feeling a little braver, or maybe it was the alcohol, but he added, "got the ring already, be a little tough tryin' to take it back."

Tommy's eyes bugged out of his head. "You - what?"

Joel sucked in a deep breath and nodded. "Yep. Had it for a while now. Asked Paul 'n everythin'."

Tommy's mouth opened and closed like a fish, completely stunned.

"And Sarah?"

He nodded and took a nervous sip from his bottle. "Talked to her, too. She's thrilled."

Tommy broke out into a huge grin and tugged Joel into a quick hug before pulling away and giving him a playful shoulder shove. "So when are you gonna do it?"

Joel sighed and looked around. "I don't know. When it feels right, I suppose."

"Shit," Tommy replied, rubbing his chin. "Gonna be a hell of a year."

Joel nodded and looked down at your drinks sitting on the bar. "We oughta go find the girls."

"Yeah," Tommy agreed, shaking his head like he was snapping out of a trance. He reached for Maria's drink while Joel grabbed yours but before they began to weave their way through the bar, Tommy stopped him.

"Congrats, brother. I'm happy for you."

"She didn't say yes yet," Joel reminded him with a raised eyebrow, but Tommy just shrugged.

"She will."

Please follow @punkshort-notifs and turn on notifications for fic updates ❤️

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel the last of us #hallmark couple #hallmark #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #pedro pascal character fanfic #joel miller fanfic #joel x reader smut #joel miller au #joel miller fluff

1K notes · View notes

h1ghoffu · 1 year ago

Text

WHEN YOU KNOW, YOU KNOW — Toji Fushiguro

dad!toji x mom!reader

summary : celebrating baby megumi's first birthday as toji remembers the day he fell in love with you.

content warning: fluff, fluff, fluff! toji being a big softy for reader, megumi being a cute baby, mentions of foster care, reader knowing her worth.

word count: 2.3k

notes: I saw this video of a mom celebrating her daughter's first birthday like this and it made my heart absolutely melt. also, my obsession with toji is growing, especially soft dad toji like UGH GIVE HIM TO ME. i also think about the fact that he did change and the reason being a woman who showed what life could be like. my true roman empire fr. but to add a little more to the context of this fic, i chose the title because firstly the song, 'margaret' by lana del rey is about finding your person and the feeling of finding them. so i sggest listening to the sone while reading! anyways, enjoy!!!

It was currently 6 a.m. and both your husband and baby were fast asleep still. You on the other hand were wide awake putting together a special surprise for your baby, Megumi, who was turning one.

You felt yourself get emotional as you get flashbacks of when he was just a tiny little thing. He still is your tiny little baby but he’s growing so fast it makes you wanna cry.

As you’re tying the ballon’s up to his crib, you hear him stir in his sleep. Your heart jumps for a second but then see his little eyes flutter open. Your gaze softens even more and a smile spreads across your face, “Good morning, baby,” You coo at him sweetly, and he smiles immediately recognizing his momma. His hands reach up wanting you to hold him and of course you could not say no to him.

You lift him up in your arms and hold him close to your chest. You press a kiss against his cheek, closing your eyes and swaying back and forth with him in your arms.

Toji groans as he feels himself wake up from his deep slumber. He rolls around in bed and reaches for something that isn’t there. His eyes quickly shoot open and he sees that you’re not in bed. *Did the baby start crying?* No because he would’ve heard it.

He then gets up leaving his room and making his way towards the babies room. He noticed the door is already open and when he peaks inside he sees you holding your baby swaying back and forth with him in your arms. His eyes then scan the room and notices the balloons above the crib along with the birthday decorations.

It was Megumi’s first birthday, of course. His eyes go back to you and Megumi and his heart accelerates. The sight was beautiful, he wanted to cherish it and keep it locked up in his head forever. God, you were so beautiful and you absolutely glowed with Megumi in your arms. He never knew how love could feel so amazing and how easily it stared him in the face when it came to you.

It was never easy for Toji to love especially since he’d never felt real true love for anyone. Not his mom and certainly not his dad, he was alone for as long as he could remember.

Of course he didn’t care, he could have any woman he wanted in a matter of seconds. No women could change him and he was fully convinced of that.

But boy was he wrong when he met you, everything changed. When you met you didn’t immediately flirt with him. You just saw him as a regular guy walking into your diner because that’s what he was. You treated him normally, not throwing yourself on him like other women. It was refreshing to say the least.

But he knew why, he could tell by the way you carried yourself that you knew you deserved something special. So when he first asked you out, you immediately turned him down without explanation. At first he was a bit offended but he brushed it off telling himself he liked a challenge.

He continued to ask you out after and still was met with the same answer. He did this for 4 months until he finally sat down at the diner and asked you, “Why won’t you go out with me?” You stare at him wide-eyed as you place a cup of coffee in front of him, “Well, you’ve never actually tried having a conversation with me, nor have you tried getting to know me, you like me because I’m pretty not for who I am,” She says cleaning up the area around him then leaving him there to think about what she said.

As she comes around to serve some costumer their food he stops her, “But I want to get to know you, that’s all I’ve been wanting these past couple of months,” Your face is blank, a bit irritated that he’d step in front of you like that, “Then prove it, actions speak louder than words,” You step around him continuing to do your job.

He let your words marinate for a second before he paid for his coffee and left.

It was now the end of your shift and all you wanted to do was go to bed. You sigh as you open the back door to leave, “Hey,” You jump at the sudden noise, feeling your soul leave your body. You look over at the noise, feeling a wave of relief that it wasn’t some freak, “Toji, you scared me!”

He was leaned up against the diner’s wall. He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, “My bad,” You shake your head before taking a deep breath, “What are you doing here anyway? The diners closed,” He shrugged leaving the wall and beginning to walk over to you, “I wanted to talk,” You raise your eyebrow in confusion, “To who?”

“To you,” He has a light smile on his face which causes you to smile, “About?” He laughs as he puts his hands in the pockets on his jeans, “I want to get to know you,” You narrowed your eyes at him, “How long have you been waiting out here for me?” Your question makes him tongue tied and red with embarrassment, “I-…since I left the diner,” He mumbles, but you heard it clear.

“That was 6 hours ago…you’ve been waiting here this whole time?” He nods looking away from you, already feeling so much embarrassment, “I didn’t know when you got off, so…I waited,” You didn’t understand why but you felt your heart flutter a bit, but you quickly shook it off. He noticed you think for a bit but quickly spoke up again, “Can I walk you home?”

Your snapped out of you thought, staring up at him blankly, “Sure, why not,” you didn’t feel threatened by him at all, you felt more safe around him then anything. One thing about Toji is that the many times he’s asked you out he’s never made you uncomfortable. He’s never made weird comments about you, he was cocky when you first met him which was off putting.

But after you shot him down the way you did he wasn’t so cocky after, “Would you like me to carry your bag?” He asks, noticing how tired you look, wanting to lift a weight of your shoulder, literally, “Oh, sure,” You handed him your bag then stretched your arms over your head and yawned, “I’m tired,” You say as you begin to walk, Toji hums before he asks, “How long have you been working there?”

“Mmm since I graduated high school,” Toji’s eyes widen a bit, you’d been working there for years and he’d never seen you, “Seriously? How come I only met you 4 months ago?” Toji had been going to that diner for a while now, ever since he graduated high school, “Well I recently graduated university, like 6 months ago but it’s been hard to look for a job so I asked to start working full time.”

Toji did take you for an educated woman, as whenever you were disrespected at the diner you never took it, always standing up for yourself, “Wow, what did you study in university?”

“Social work, I want to be a social worker for foster kids,” Toji felt his heart jump out of his chest, Toji was a foster kid. After he’d left the Zenin clan, he got into trouble shop lifting which let him to get put into the system. Which he was salty and angry about at first, it was as if he was just going back to where he was in the first place.

But to his surprise he was assigned a nice family and a great social worker who looked out for him, “Really? You know I was a foster kid,” his words make your ears quirk up turning your head towards him, “seriously? Was the system good to you?” The hope in your eyes is telling, he could see that you wanted to change things that went on it the system that were awful, “Fortunately yes, it was,” I smile spread across your face that made him melt instantly, “That’s great, I’m glad.”

The rest of the walk he learned more things about you, your favorite things, what you enjoyed doing on your free time, everything he could. You were right, getting to know somebody is so much more important than whatever they’d look like. Of course you were beautiful, no doubt about it but it was just a bonus to the beautiful personality you carried within you.

You soon arrived to your apartment complex. Toji scanned the area, it wasn’t the safest part of town but he knew it was affordable, so he couldn’t judge. “So, where do you see yourself in the future? You said you’re 22 right?” You nod as you both stop in front of the complex and sit on a nearby bench, “Well, I’ve always wanted a family, small or big. An amazing husband with a baby in a small house in the suburbs or by the beach, just living happily and peacefully.”

He noticed the way your eyes sparkled when you spoke. When you continued to describe what you wanted he couldn’t help but picture it. You, him, and a baby. His heart pounded in his chest at the image, when you stopped talking you looked into his eyes as he did you. That’s when he knew, he wanted to be everything you needed. He wanted to be the man for you.

So watching the sight of you and Megumi swaying back and forth, happily as ever is a sight for sore eyes. He felt emotional, never thinking he’d get to this point in life, this happy. Even though he was partially raised well he still had his flaws but you saw those flaws and mere things willing to stay and work on them with him.

You were his angel, his peace, and his everything. He finally decided to fully enter the room, placing a hand on the small of your back making you jump slightly, “Oh my gosh, Toji! You scared me!” He lightly chuckled before placing a kiss on your lips, “You weren’t in bed so I came up to see what was up,” You hum rubbing circles on Megumi’s back.

“I was going to wake you but you seemed exhausted last night,” He looks at Megumi, placing a hand on his head and giving him a kiss on his forehead, “Thank you, honey but I’m okay. Besides, it’s our little guys birthday, I could never miss that,” boy did this man have you wrapped around his finger, you fell in love with him over and over again every single day.

“Well since you’re here, can you grab the cake and candles that are in the kitchen so we can sing him happy birthday,” He nods giving you another kiss, “Anything for you,” You giggle as you watch him walk out of the room, you look at Megumi staring up at you, “happy birthday, my sweet boy,” you bring him up pressing your cheek against his.

Toji comes back with a cake and a single candle in his hand. Little Megumi coos at his dad causing Toji to laugh, “patience little guy,” he sits down placing the cake down as well, you follow first placing Megumi down then sitting yourself next to Toji.

Toji places the candle on the cake then lights it. Little Megumi’s eyes widen as he sees the small flame but then giggles and claps. You lay your head on Toji’s shoulder watching the sight that made your heart melt.

You began to sing happy birthday to him and he’d never smiled more, swaying back and forth to the sound of his parents voice. Megumi’s was only one but he felt the love that radiated off of his parents and how much they loved him, “Happy birthday to you, okay baby, now blow out your candles.”

Megumi’s face tilted in confusion, causing you and Toji to chuckle, “Like this,” you said as you blew softly, he copied your movement but no air came out of his lips. Toji laughed, “Okay try again,” he whispered but instead this time Toji blew slightly causing the candle to go out, little Megumi clapped thinking he had done it. You smiled at your happy baby, then at your husband, you lifted your head off of his shoulder giving him a kiss.

“Thank you,” You whispered lovingly, “For what?” He asked confused, “For this, for it all, for giving me the life I’d always dreamed of,” His heart swells at your words causing him to shake his head, “No, thank you, you accepted me knowing I had so many flaws…and you changed me…you’re the reason I am this way. You are my reason, Y/n.”

You look over at Megumi for a second, who moved himself to crawl, “Oh Toji,” You coo, cupping his face and giving him a passionate kiss, “I love you, I love you so much,” He whispered wrapping his arms around your waist and bringing you closer, “I love you, Toji,” You nuzzle your face into his chest holding him close, but in the corner of your eye you see something.

“Toji, look,” you tap his chest and point over to Megumi, who stood up. He always did that but what you didn’t expect was for him to take a couple steps forward. You both gasped, quickly sitting up as you watch your baby make his way to you. You feel your eyes well up with tears and you begin to clap excitedly, “he’s walking!” you cheer excitedly. Little Megumi makes it all the way to his parents. Toji is quickly to scoop him up and kiss him excitedly.

You both celebrate your babies big step in growing up. Which makes you so proud but so emotional, Toji is quick to wipe your tears. He kisses you once more and smiles, down at you then at his son, “My blessings,” He whispers.

h1ghoffu - i do not allow my work to be reposted. please do not plagiarize my work or theme. reblogging and comments are welcome! much love! thank you for reading!

2K notes · View notes

vroomingrussell · 2 months ago

Text

Yeah she’s pretty, she’s my wife…

Lance Stroll x Reader

Note: During the Canadian GP 2024

Y/N stepped out of the car; her phone tucked between her shoulder and ear as she tried to open the umbrella. The rain still had not let up.

“I promise, I don’t need you to come out to get me, I can find the garage” She tried to calm the worrying of her husband.

Husband, the word still felt strange seeing as they had only been married for a week, it was a small intimate wedding just your two families and a few friends in the backyard of your childhood home. It had not been planned out the way you wanted. Lance was home from Monaco, you were finally done with your studies. He’s proposed the year before, and you had promised once you earned your degree you’d take time off to plan the wedding; however, what you truly wanted was to be married, no lavish party, nothing but being surrounded by the people you love with the man you love before he was jetting off to race around the world again. Your relationship with Lance was not a secret but you two did your best not to bring any media attention to you; it was the one thing you had asked of him when you started dating.

“Okay” he says “but come find me or dad as soon as you get to Aston”

“Promise, love you” you smile and hung up before swiping your pass to get into the paddock.

You quickly made your way in; happy that no one paid no mind to you, probably thinking you were another fan. However, the happiness quickly disappeared as a heavy gust of wind blew the umbrella from your hand; plus your lack of knowledge as to where the Aston Martin hospitality; you hadn’t realized how hard it would be to make your way around; usually you were with Lawrence or Chloe or friends when you came to races, this time you were on your own and now soaking wet.

“Damn it” you mumbled as you took shelter into the closet building; McLaren.

“Hello there” A British voice called out to you, one you recognize from the radio messages and interviews, Lando Norris.

“Hi” you swiped the damp hair from your eyes and looked up at him “sorry I’m just waiting out the rain” you offered a smile.

“Come in then, I’ll get you something warm to wear and some coffee” you’ve heard a lot about Lando, many rumors of how flirtatious and a player he was, but online chatter didn’t matter to you, Lance had said that Lando is nice, they weren’t friends but friendly enough; he was a good guy that people love to give a shitty reputation to. So following your gut and your husbands approval of Lando, you wondered further into the building.

“Nando fan?” He made small talk as he handed you a towel he’d gotta from a bench near by, with the down pour it made sense for the hospitality buildings to have towels ready for those soaked to the bones.

“Lance” you answered, clearly Lando was not one of the few drivers on the grid that knew you, Este, Mick and Fernando being the only 3 that were at your wedding.

“Stroll has really pretty fans, I’ll have to ask him how” Lando joked as you tried to dry your hair.

You chuckled, not wanting to say much more “thanks for this”

“Coffee?”

“I would love some but don’t you have a race to get ready for? I don’t want to keep you”

“It’s all good we have some time plus the rain is holding up the start”

“Coffee then” Y/N answered after taking a peak outside where the rain still hasn’t let up.

“You should let me get you a change of hoodie too, I think papaya if more you color”

“I’m sure Lance would not be happy if I showed up in uh papaya; he did invite me today after all” Y/N smiled, kindly declining Landos offer and hoping he’d take the hint without her having to confirm anything.

But he stayed clueless “I’m sure he’d be fine, plus you could stay and be my good luck charm for the race” oh boy.

Quickly you sent a text to Lawrence not wanting to bother Lance to send someone to pick you up from McLaren.

Y/N continued to talk to Lando, steering the conversation to a safer topic, racing in the wet conditions. She listened as he went on, politely asking questions at the right time, nodding along. Thankfully it didn’t take long for her recuse to arrive.

“Y/N, kid there you are” Lawrence Stroll himself called out.

“Mr Stroll” Lando stood to shake the older man’s hand “how are you”

“Good good, just here to safely deliver my daughter to Lance, he’s being to stress the entire garage out” Lawrence had always fondly referred to Y/N as his second daughter.

“Thanks for the towel and coffee Lando, good luck with you race today” Y/N bid farewell to the driver, leaving him with one mission in mind, talk to Lance, get her number.

The drivers parade was, well wet and cold; Lance was dreading it: hoping that it could end as quickly as possible. He didn’t get to spend as much time with you as he’d like before he was being ushered away from pre race briefings, meeting with their celebrity guests and the usual.

Standing on the back of the open air van he huddled to one corner waving to fans in the grandstands as they drove by.

“Hey man” Lance looked up skeptically as Lando Norris approached him. Usually it was Esteban or Fernando that took the space by his side so seeing Lando left him a little confused.

“So your sister is she single?” Lando did not beat around the bush, he kept a smile on his face as he waved to fans as well.

“You know Chloe is married?”

“No not Chloe, your other sister, Y/N she’s really gorgeous and we had a nice chat today, but I I couldn’t tell if she was interested”

“Y/N?” Lance questioned again, looking at Este who was listening in for some help. Este shrugged.

“Yeah, I know it’s probably weird and all if you don’t want to give me her number but she’s really pretty dude and I would love to get to know her”

“Yeah dude I agree, Y/N is really pretty” Lance smirked, oh this would be fun.

“…yeah”

“But she’s not my sister, she’s my wife” Lance grinned.

“Whoa Lance what was that” Will Buxton stopped his interview with Fernando to cut in “Mr stroll care to elaborate?”

Normally, Lance would have shut it down, not wanting to put you on blast, but he couldn’t help himself. “Oh I was just telling Lando here about my gorgeous new bride, married one week today, she’s in the garage right now, and I’m just happy to have her here for our home race” Lance smiled to the camera.

Once the cameras had panned away, lando looked at Lance apologetically. “I had no idea”

“It’s okay, she is very pretty and probably super pissed at me”

Back at the garage Y/N couldn’t help but smile. She loved her husband so much her heart could burst from her chest, she could not be happier.

#Lance stroll x reader #formula one x reader #f1 x reader

692 notes · View notes

ikkyfics · 1 month ago

Note

Hello author, can i request a part two dor divination? Maybe the vision finally came true and its all just fluffy? Thank youu

Realization

James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: “Remember the Divination classes?” James asked suddenly, his voice light, almost as if talking to himself. “Yeah,” you murmured, feeling the memory bring an unexpected warmth to your chest. “She really got that one right.”

Warnings: just fluffy - after Hogwarts(married with children), a very cute little Harry

A/N: hey honey, I hope you like it

Divination - Masterlist

The night in Godric’s Hollow was calm, the silence only broken by the soft crackling of the fireplace and the slow ticking of the clock on the wall. The golden light from the flames cast delicate shadows on the walls and filled the living room with a warm, cozy glow. It was one of those rare and perfect moments where time seemed to slow down, as if the world outside didn’t even exist.

Harry was on the floor, on the plush rug that covered most of the room, surrounded by colorful magical blocks he was trying to stack. He furrowed his brow, his little face serious as his tongue slightly poked out the side of his mouth. The newly built tower collapsed once more, and he let out an annoyed grunt before suddenly getting up.

James was sprawled on the couch, his feet resting on the coffee table, watching his son with eyes full of amusement. You were sitting on the floor with Dahlia standing between your hands, propping her tiny arms on yours to keep her balance. She let out squeals of joy every time she managed to take a wobbly step or two before safely falling back onto the rug. Each of her attempts was met with laughter, claps, and kisses on the top of her little head.

“Again, little one, come on,” you encouraged softly, lifting her under her armpits and raising her into the air. Dahlia giggled in her tiny voice, her round cheeks flushed from the effort, her eyes sparkling with pure joy. She looked like a miniature version of you, the features so alike that even James had commented more than once how it threw him off a little.

At that moment, Harry, who was facing away from you, found James’s glasses abandoned on the coffee table. He picked them up carefully, turning them in his little hands as if they were a treasure. Without a second thought, he put them on, the large lenses slipping down his nose.

“Dad!” he called, stumbling over his words as he turned around with a big smile. “Look, now I’m you!”

James’s laughter echoed through the room, that loud and carefree laugh that brightened any place. He threw his head back, his hands covering his face for a moment before he stretched out his arms to Harry.

“Merlin, you look just like me!” James said, his voice full of affection. He scooped his son into his arms, messing up his already wild hair even more. “You just need to try flying on a broomstick and get into trouble, and I’ll have to retire because my legacy will be secured.”

Harry laughed, adjusting the glasses that kept slipping. “I’m going to fly better than you, dad,” he declared with all the confidence in the world, which only made James laugh more.

“Of course you will, Prongslet. That’s the spirit.”

On the other side of the room, you watched the scene with a smile so wide your cheeks ached. Dahlia, now in your lap, stretched her little hands toward her dad and brother, babbling something that sounded like a demand for attention. James looked at her and froze for a second, his smile softening as he watched the little one in your arms.

He stayed silent for too long, his gaze almost absorbed as he studied Dahlia’s face, so identical to his. You noticed the moment and furrowed your brow slightly, your voice soft as you asked,

“What’s wrong? Why the silly look?”

James turned his gaze to you, that silly grin still shining on his lips, and then looked back at his daughter, as if he were trying to memorize every detail of her.

“It’s you,” he murmured, his voice so low that it barely reached your ears. “Smaller, cuter, but… it’s you.”

Your heart warmed, melting like butter under the sun. The look of adoration he gave his daughter was the same he reserved for you, and that always affected you in an inexplicable way.

“Careful, James,” you teased, your voice sweet. “She might end up wanting to fly better than you too.”

James chuckled softly, letting Harry slide off his lap as he stood up and walked over to you. He crouched down beside you, his arms extending around both of you.

For a moment, you stayed like that: Dahlia in your lap, Harry playing again with the blocks, and James too close, his presence as comforting as a warm blanket.

“Remember the Divination classes?” he asked suddenly, his voice light, almost as if talking to himself.

You raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Those classes? James, that was years ago.”

He laughed, resting his head on your shoulder while still looking at their daughter, now yawning and rubbing her eyes. “I know. But… I remember her talking about a boy with glasses. Just like his dad.”

His gaze softened as you also looked at Harry, who was now grumbling softly because another block tower had fallen. A boy with his father’s messy hair and huge glasses. It was truly remarkable.

“Yeah,” you murmured, feeling the memory bring an unexpected warmth to your chest. “She really got that one right.”

James turned his face to look at you, his expression so tenderly affectionate that it felt like your heart might leap out of your chest.

“And I also remember saying that I would prefer… a girl,” he continued, his eyes shining softly. “Someone who looked like you.”

The mention caught you off guard, an unexpected wave of emotion rising within you. Your smile was automatic, even though a stubborn tear threatened to fall.

“And here we are,” James murmured, kissing the top of Dahlia’s head as she finally fell asleep in his arms. “Who would’ve thought, huh? It seems like the future really was written. We just took our time seeing it.”

You smiled, one of those smiles that starts slow, spreading across your whole face, as you watched Dahlia’s little closed eyes. His words brought a warm feeling to your chest, mixed with old memories that seemed to come from another life.

“We really did,” you replied, resting your head on James’ shoulder, feeling his familiar warmth. “If it depended on you, we’d have been together since first year.”

James chuckled softly, looking at you with that mischievous glint in his blue eyes.

“I wasn’t wrong, let’s be honest,” he said, with a voice as if declaring a universal truth. “I spent six years trying to prove I was irresistible, but no… you preferred to ignore me. Ignore me, can you believe that?”

You raised an eyebrow at him, amused. “I’d call it common sense.”

James put on a mock expression of outrage, placing his free hand on his chest as though he’d been struck with an arrow. “Common sense? And when did you decide to lose that?”

“Sometime around sixth year,” you replied, trying not to laugh. “When you became less… unbearable.”

“Unbearable?” He blinked a few times, indignant. “Come on, love, you make it sound like I was the worst of the Marauders. Everyone knows Sirius was the problem.”

“Oh, of course,” you agreed, the tone ironic but playful. “Because Sirius, who by the way is the godfather who spoils the godson the most, didn’t learn from you how to be impossible.”

James laughed, shaking his head. “Sirius didn’t learn anything from me. He was born that way.”

You laughed louder but quickly put your hand over your mouth when Dahlia stirred in your lap. James looked down at her lovingly and kissed her forehead again, murmuring a “shhh, it’s all right.”

At that moment, Harry appeared in the room, rubbing his eyes with the cuff of his sweater. His hair was even more tousled than usual, and his oversized glasses— which he had taken earlier— were almost falling off his nose.

“Are you talking about Uncle Sirius again?” he asked, his voice heavy with sleep.

James let out a contained laugh and reached out his free arm to pull Harry in. The boy easily settled onto his lap, snuggling between you and James.

“Of course. We always talk about Uncle Sirius, especially when he’s not around to defend himself,” James replied, smiling at Harry. “It’s the price he pays for being the most impossible of uncles.”

Harry chuckled, his eyes almost closing again with sleep. You ran your fingers softly through his hair, feeling how warm and comfortable he was.

“But he brought chocolate yesterday,” Harry mumbled, his voice muffled against James’ chest.

“And ruined your dinner,” you said, rolling your eyes with a light smile. “Not even Remus can control Sirius when he decides to spoil you two.”

James nodded, amused. “That’s because Remus is a saint. I never understood how he puts up with Sirius even now.”

Harry lifted his head again, his little face scrunched up in curiosity. “But Uncle Remus likes Uncle Sirius.”

“He likes him a lot,” James confirmed, kissing Harry’s forehead, enveloping him in a warm embrace with both arms. “Uncle Remus and Uncle Sirius were made for each other, just like your mother and I.”

Harry smiled at you, his little eyes almost closing. “So you’re the same?”

You exchanged a quick glance with James, feeling the warmth spread across your face. He gave you a sweet smile, though full of playful provocation.

“Yes, Harry. But don’t forget to tell your mum I’m more charming than Uncle Sirius, okay?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to hold back a laugh. “More charming? James, what else do you want him to say? That you’re irresistible?”

James smiled openly, turning his gaze back to you. “I’d love to hear that again.”

Harry let out a little laugh, though he was already almost asleep again. You shook your head, amused, before looking at James more softly.

“All right,” you murmured, surprising him. “You’re irresistible, James Potter.”

James’ eyes widened as if he couldn’t believe it, before breaking into a slow, passionate smile. “Did you hear that, Harry? Irresistible. Next time Uncle Sirius says something, you defend me, okay?”

“Okay, Dad,” Harry whispered, with a sleepy smile before finally closing his eyes.

The silence returned to the room, warmed by the sound of the fire crackling in the hearth and the slow breaths of Harry and Dahlia. You rested your head again on James’ shoulder, breathing in his familiar scent and the peace of the moment.

James, for his part, turned his face softly and placed a lingering kiss on the top of your head. “Thank you,” he murmured softly, almost like a secret.

You furrowed your brow slightly, your heart beating faster. “For what?”

He smiled against your hair, as though savoring the answer. “For everything. For this. For choosing us. For being… you.”

You closed your eyes, squeezing his hand tightly. “I’d choose you a thousand times.”

James smiled, that special sparkle in his eyes.

“I am irresistible, after all,” he whispered, teasing.

You laughed softly to avoid waking the children. “And unbearable,” you added, looking at him fondly.

James pulled you both closer, smiling ear to ear. “I’ll take both. As long as it comes from you.”

And there, in the warmth of the fire and in each other’s arms, you stayed. A perfect picture of everything you’d ever imagined— a life full of love, laughter, and little miracles that even the best of seers couldn’t have predicted.

799 notes · View notes

angel5ofp0rn · 9 months ago

Text

♡ part one ♡

ExHusband!Price x f!reader

been thinking ab this post 4ever and need to get it out tbh.

**I’ve never done something like this b4 and I haven’t proofread so pls be nice 2 me ._. **

You have been divorced from your ex husband John Price for two years. Still, he comes over and shovels your driveway for you every time it snows.

He’s come inside and warmed up in the mudroom nearly every 15-20 minutes, puffing hot breath into his hands and rubbing them together for warmth before stepping back out and shoveling again.

You meet him in the mudroom for his fourth warm-up break and hand him a mug of hot coffee. Dash of cream, one sugar.

“Still how you take your coffee, right?” You offer a small smile, hugging your arms around yourself as John takes a sip from the mug.

“Still the same.” He nods before he takes another sip, the small smile that had appeared at the corner of his mouth quickly fading.

He leans up against the doorframe, the shovel leaning against the wall next to him. He peers out of the door's window, checking over his work.

“I'll get goin' soon enough. It ain't snowing right now, the drive's nearly clear.”

You thank him again, even though you never asked him to do this in the first place. You can’t help but look up at him, meeting his blue eyes for just a moment.

Before he could reply, your two children came running around the corner cheering and squealing when they saw their dad.

John's smile brightens at their presence, his body language immediately softening as he squatted down to their level.

“Hey, my little monkeys. Come give yer ol’ dad a hug.” He opens his arms out wide, inviting both of them to come to him. It doesn't take long before they both go crashing into him, squealing, smiling. Their giggles filled the small room.

You just smile. Even if you and John aren’t always on the best of terms, you can’t deny that he’s a great father.

“Daddy’s cold.” Your youngest shivers a bit from hugging their dad, who still had snow on his clothes and frost on his beard from shoveling.

John tries to shrug it off, but you ask him to stay and warm up for a while.

For the kids, of course.

Plus dinner is nearly ready, and you definitely made too much for just you and the kids, anyway.

More cheering, more squealing, more giggling as John finally agrees and kicks his boots off, hanging his coat on the hook.

John’s blue eyes scan the new decor and different paintings on the wall, but he doesn’t comment on how much the place has changed since he moved out.

After dinner, the two of you stand in the doorway as you watch the kids play together in their playroom, that used to be John’s “man cave”.

“They're gonna make you tuck them in.” You mention, sipping your glass of wine.

John smiles, a casual shrug of his shoulders.

“Maybe you can convince them to go up and brush their teeth?” You lower your wineglass and offer a fake, pleading pout.

He looks down for a moment, pretending not to see the gesture. Instead, he looks back to the children.

“Right then, you two little monkeys. It’s gettin’ late. Go on up and brush your teeth. I’ll come tuck you in.”

Both children protest for a while, but eventually give in without too much of a fight. That’s a new one.

John lets out a chuckle as the children roll their eyes and go up the stairs. He watches them disappear from view before turning and meeting your eyes again, still smiling for this small victory.

As if he had just realized he was staring, John’s eyes darted down into his now empty mug.

"Let me take that." You reach for his mug but he shakes his head.

"I haven’t forgotten where the kitchen is," He smiles a bit. "'ll clean up and then tuck the kids in."

John makes his way over to the kitchen, placing it in the sink and starting water. You follow, and notice that he was also washing the dishes from dinner as well.

“John, you don’t have to-“

“I know.”

And that’s that.

You chew your bottom lip. This looked too familiar. It felt too familiar.

"I'm... gonna go check on them and get them in their pj's." You gesture to the stairs in the hall.

He looks up at you briefly and nods; "Be up in a bit, love.”

Once the water is emptied from the sink, he starts loading the dishes into the dishwasher. Once completed, he starts to wipe down the counters and stovetop, wanting to make sure he left no mess behind. Then he trekked back up the stairs to tuck in the kids.

You’re downstairs again, on the living room sofa. You wanted to let John have a moment alone with the kiddos before he left again.

He makes his way down the stairs and sees you sitting there in the dim lighting. He clears his throat a bit as he walks through the living room and back into the mudroom.

“They're tucked in. Not a whisper from ‘em.” He mentions casually as he gets his snow boots back on.

You thank him, turning to watch him leave, but notice him looking out of the door window and pause. So you make your way over to the door to see what he’s seeing.

It's started snowing and the driveway is completely covered again. It looks like he hasn't even shoveled.

John lets out a grunt of disbelief and sighs, pulling on his beanie and reaching for the shovel once again.

“Don't-“ You shake your head, placing your hand on the shovel. “It's snowing hard, there's no point in shoveling it all up just for it to be covered again. Why don't you... stay on the couch or something tonight.”

He stares down at the shovel for a moment, debating it. After a beat, he sighs a bit, nodding.

“I... could do that.”

You go upstairs to the bedroom and bring John some extra pillows and blankets to make a bed on the couch with.

You set everything on the coffee table and the two of you sit on the couch for a moment, just catching up and chatting about the kids.

“The kids both want to do soccer in the spring.” You mention, your cheeks a bit rosy from the wine you had with dinner.

“Football.” He corrects with a small smirk. You roll your eyes.

“Let me pay for the lessons.” He says; not asking.

Of course you refuse.

Of course he insists.

You settle on splitting it.

Then it happens again. Your eyes meet his. Neither one of you speaks. Suddenly you’re transported back to the first night you met; you were newly 21 and already tipsy when your eyes met those of an older man in his fatigues as he sat at the bar. You remember drunkly telling the older man that he had the prettiest blue eyes, and that you wanted a hundred of his babies that looked just. like. him.

You have two, at least.

“Oh!” You sit up a bit straighter, snapping out of your daydream. “I was going to ask you to look at something on my laptop. It's doing that thing again. It's upstairs.” You get up and head to your home office, John right behind you.

You open your laptop and hand it to John. He knew how to fix it last time, so it should take him no time.

He sits in your office chair and you step away into your bedroom across the hall to get into a pair of pajama shorts and a hoodie, since it's getting late.

The laptop whirred softly before he got it running again. Only took a minute. He sets it on the desk, leaning back in your chair with his hands behind his head as he looks up through the open door where you can be found, changing in the bedroom.

You were his wife at one point, anyway. Isn’t something he hasn’t seen before…

After you’ve changed, you lay on your bed, scrolling through your phone as you wait for John to fix the issue with your laptop, unaware that he was watching. Unaware that the laptop has been fixed for a while now, and he was just wasting time.

Eventually, his voice wafts through the doorway.

“Think I got it, love-“ He pauses for a moment. “Er, Y/N.”

“Ugh, thank you.” You sigh and sit up, taking the laptop from him and setting it on your nightstand. “Stupid thing always acting up.”

John sits on the edge of your bed as you take the laptop back from him.

“Not a problem. It was a quick fix.” He offers a small smile, rubbing the back of his head.

He takes a glance at you, noticing the pajamas you had put on.

"...Is that my sweatshirt?"

You blush a bit sheepishly, looking down at the oversized, grey 2XL Special Air Service hoodie you’re wearing. "Um..."

Another small chuckle escapes his lips. He shakes his head a bit, trying to contain his amusement.

“S’what I thought. You look... comfy." He reaches his hand out towards your leg, running his hand lightly over your bare legs, exposed by the shorts you were wearing.

Without realizing what he's doing, he has his hand on your thigh, and he gives it a light squeeze.

Eventually his hand travels higher to rest on your sex over your pajama shorts.

Usually, you'd tell him off. Monologue about how this isn't how things work because it complicated things and you both need to set boundaries.

But tonight you don't.

Maybe it's because you had two heavy-handed pours of your favorite wine with dinner. Maybe it was seeing him with your kids again. Maybe it had just been too long since you'd felt anything other than a cheap bullet vibrator.

So you let him slip his hand down your panties.

But it's a bit jarring to feel his wedding band still on his finger.

You look down at his hand for a beat when you feel it.

You look back up and place your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him in and crashing your lips together.

John wastes no time in laying you back on your bed and tugging your shorts and panties off, tossing them somewhere behind him.

His lips are on your neck, his hands spreading your soft thighs apart. You can smell the musky scent of himself on him, mixed with that familiar cologne of his, and you breathe a sigh.

“Take this off f’r me.” He mumbles against your skin, sliding your his hoodie up your body.

Your body aches for this to continue, and John doesn't plan to disappoint, but he takes a moment to admire what's sprawled out in front of him. He lets out a satisfied smirk as he pulls you closer by your thighs. He's undone his belt and shrugged out of his jeans in no time.

You pull his shirt off over his head before you close your eyes and tilt your head to give him easier access to kiss your neck.

His scruffy beard tickles your neck, his calloused hands gripping your thigh and rubbing your slick, dripping pussy.

“So needy.” John observed as your back arched and your body squirmed at his touch. "Poor thing... No one's been keepin’ you satisfied, hm?”

You shake your head a bit. You hate that he’s right. You hate that he can tell. That he knows you too well.

But he’s right; no random Tinder hookup and no blind date that your friends have set you up with could ever compare to your ex husband.

“Should’a told me...” He murmurs as he leans lower, positioning his head in between your thighs, pressing desperate kisses to your aching clit.

He’s got you figured out completely. He’s always been good at that.

A smile forms as his hands move to grip your thighs. He lets out a quiet groan as your legs instinctively clamp around his head. The look of his veiny hands gripping your plushy thighs with that damn wedding band still around his finger is doing things to you.

His tongue slowly plays in circular motions, teasing you, loving the game. He takes his time, enjoying himself, as you continue to squeeze your thighs against his head. Hell, he’d let you suffocate him if it meant he could eat your pussy this one last time.

You try not to, but you let out a desperate moan of pleasure. He knew exactly what you like, exactly where to lick, exactly where to kiss, exactly where to nibble.

Damn him.

“You sound s’pretty, lovey. S’pretty f’r me.” He pants, his praise ending with a whimper.

Your eyes roll back. Fuck, he has you. He knows he has you. Your moans and whimpers are uncontrollable as he picks up the pace, all but slamming his thick cock into your pretty little hole.

You’re his, and he knows it, and in the moment, it’s true. Just him. Just you. The rest doesn’t matter right now.

John pulls out for just a moment while he swiftly flips you over, roughly gripping your hips and pulling your backside into him. He’s got the angle just right now, and your breath catches in your throat, followed by a needy whimper.

“Mine… All mine… Isn’t that right?” He whispers, more of a command than a question.

Your face is pressed against the mattress as John’s grip on your hips tighten. This angle, this position, John is so familiar with it. He knows what it does to you. He knows the way it makes you respond.

John lets out a loud groan as your whimpers and moans get more needy, desperate. He knows that you’re about to come.

He finishes right then and there, along with you.

You gasp a bit, surprised by the synchronization. Should you really be surprised, though? Only he would know your body like that. You’re his. He’s yours.

John slowly pulls his softening cock out of you, lying on the bed and pulling you into his chest. His hand grabs your thigh, draping your leg around his waist in an attempt to hold you closer.

He lets out a few deep breaths, letting the adrenaline and endorphins just fade away. Neither of you wants to move right now, both just content being in each other’s arms. Both content feeling the heat of each other’s bodies, just listening to each other breathing.

“Better than I remembered it.” John murmurs, his voice laced with a smirk.

You catch John’s left hand after he reached up to push your sweaty hair from your forehead. You hold it in yours, playing a bit with the wedding band.

next >>

1K notes · View notes